Quiet Confessions
Title: Quiet Confessions
Co-Authored by: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Summary: What began as a drinking binge, ends in a startling confession by his best friend.
Rating: PG-13, for language
Characters: Cid/Vincent
Disclaimer: We don’t own ‘em or make money off ‘em, we’re just glad Squeenix shares XD
Warnings: Huh, Cid…just when ya think ya know ‘im…*shakes head, grinning*, oh, and of course the ever-present angst
A/N: This is our first collaboration and reads like the RP that was such fun to write. Silence snuggled Cid (and blew both Vin and I away) and once again I got sucked into Vincent’s head *shrugs*…it was inevitable.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Vincent strode into Seventh Heaven at closing time in a fouler mood than his usual gloominess. He really didn't want to see anyone, but realized his folly too late when he saw Cid Highwind slouched at the bar, nursing something that looked more appropriate for lubricating an engine block than a gastrointestinal tract. With a sigh he sat down next to his friend and ordered red wine...of all things. It was a really bad day. "Chief." He acknowledged; after all, he didn't want be rude.
Cid barely managed a half-grin at Vincent's greeting. He was much more interested in the cheap beer serving as his best friend for the night. He considered just ignoring him, but Vincent was usually a good listener, so he took a drag of his fifth cigarette of the night, chased it down with the rest of the bottle, and turned to the gunslinger, only to find that he also looked like he wanted to drown in his drink. Cid snorted at his choice of beverage. Only the finest for this guy, huh? "S'up, Vince? Day went down the crapper?"
Vincent snorted and delicately sniffed his wine before taking a sip, "Crude, Highwind, but appropriate." He looked askance at his surly-looking friend, "Judging by the quantity of alcohol you appear to have already consumed, is it safe to assume that you had a...less that adequate day yourself?" Okay, he was grumpy. Vincent took another drink then shrunk behind his mantle a little more, glaring straight ahead.
Just watching Vincent growing uncomfortable was enough to make Cid feel better. "Aw, shut up. You don't know how much I had." He flagged Tifa down again, sticking his tongue out when she shook her head sternly at him. "But yep, day sucked." He pushed the barstool back a bit and propped his feet on the bar. All the other patrons had gone, after all, so there was no one to care. "Shera ran me out." He said this with some degree of pride, despite the fact that it left him utterly alone.
"Hm, sorry to hear that, Chief." Vincent looked down at his wine briefly before pushing it away, "Did you forget to bathe again?"
"Hey, hey, I don't forget. Doesn't do fer a man t'smell too clean. Take you for example," Cid said, waving his arms unintentionally. "Smell like...well, shit, I dunno what, but it smells nice. Like a woman. Me, I smell like a man." He huffed as well as he could in his condition. "What, an' now you ain't even drinkin'?" he asked as he watched Vincent push away his drink. "Chicken," he commented, and grabbed the glass, attempting to force Vincent to drink it.
Vincent grabbed Cid's arms and pinned them to his sides before the inebriated pilot could get too far. He raised an elegant brow, "I smell like a woman? I happen to have no need to bathe, Highwind, and I have encountered barnyards that have a more pleasing odor than you tend to possess on an alarmingly regular basis." He said, beginning to get annoyed.
Cid tried not to laugh. He really did. Well, maybe not too hard, but he did make an effort. Still, the only reason he wasn't on the floor was because Vincent was holding him in a rather odd position. Between that and the alcohol, it was hopeless. He let out a bark of laughter at Vincent's clear irritation, followed by a few out-of-control chuckles at his choice of words. "Aw, come on. Lighten up already, would ya? An' let go o' me. My legs're fallin' asleep, yeah?"
Vincent shrugged his broad shoulders and let his grip go, watching impassively as - what could arguably be - his best friend, collapsed onto the floor in a rather undignified heap. He snorted again and resumed his perch at the bar, picking up his wine and taking a sip, "if you insist, Chief."
Cid was still snickering a bit as he stood, hoping that Vincent would be less irritated now that he'd more or less vented a bit. He sat at the bar again and pleaded with Tifa for just one more beer. When he received it, he broke into it immediately, reminded that he had nowhere to go until -and if- Shera forgave him. Still, Vincent normally hid his aggression much better, so he must have been in bad condition. "Feel any better, Vin?" he asked sincerely, smiling to show that he held no hard feelings.
Vincent sighed, ducking into his collar, "As well as can be expected, Cid." He fiddled with his wine glass a moment before glancing at his friend, "do you have a place to stay? I am assuming Shera will not let you back into the house until you made the appropriate sacrificial offerings?" He winced; okay Valentine, that was lame. He looked away, hoping Cid wouldn't see his lightly flushed cheeks.
As much as he wanted to smile at the color in Vincent's cheeks and his interest in making sure Cid didn't end up passed out in the street -not to mention his awkward phrasing of the making-up process- he was more worried about his friend. He frowned, deciding that the beers must be to blame for his sudden selflessness. "Aw, I'll find somewhere. Don't worry 'bout me. But hey, as well as can be expected after what?"
Vincent laughed humorlessly, "Do you have any idea what day it is, Highwind?”
“Well, let's see. Can't see as I'd know why any day'd bother ya. Never told us when your birthday is, never told us when ya got shot -shit, they ain't on the same day, are they? Nah, too damn morbid t'even think about." True to the statement, Cid gave a brief shiver at the though. "The day you proposed...nope, don't know that date, either. Guess none o' that'd help, anyway, seein' as I don't know what day it is." He frowned and began counting on his fingers, looking up a few moments later and grinning proudly. "Tuesday," he announced simply, leaving off the date as he really wasn't sure what it was.
Vincent smiled gently, he couldn't help it, Cid was actually cute when he tried to think. "Cid," He shook his head, "it's February 14th."
"Oh, that’s V- oh. Oh! An' that's why...oh. Well, shit. Glad that's cleared up. Always forget the damned holiday. Such a stupid idea t'begin with, damn women gotta get all crazy over it an' all. But why're you- oh. Hey, I'm sorry, Vin." Though he normally refrained from touching Vincent because he knew how uncomfortable it made him, he thought this occasion called for a hearty clap on the shoulder. "Hey, look, havin' somebody ain't everythin'." Cid winced, realizing he probably wasn't helping. He had a different problem, though- a loveless relationship. He stayed because he owed Shera, and that wasn't fair to either of them. He wondered which was better- unrequited love like Vincent's, or frozen fake love like his.
"It's all right, Chief." He took another drink, "I'm being melodramatic." He didn't want to go into the real reason he felt like shit. Cid didn't need his pathetic problems on top his own, "You're welcome to stay with me if you like. Perhaps it is better that I not be alone." He drained his drink and stood up. His chest hurt and he rubbed at it absently, looking at Cid. "But of course, it is your choice." He managed a weak, half-hearted smile.
"Hey, it ain't just somethin' ya pass off as 'all right.' Talk t'me. S'what friends do, ain't it?" He almost choked when Vincent mentioned that he should not be alone. It sounded to Cid like he didn't want to be alone, and it was the first time he could remember hearing anything like that from the man in front of him. "Hey, I won't leave you alone, either, if you don't wanna be. Let's go, then, an' we'll talk. A' right?"
Vincent nodded and offered his arm to Cid, "It's really none of your concern, Chief. Unimportant. I would..." He hesitated, uncomfortable, "I would like a distraction, from...from my thoughts." He looked away again.
Cid lifted an eyebrow. He stepped under Vincent's arm rather than taking it, causing it to fall around his shoulders. In turn, he put an arm around Vincent's waist. It was as much about keeping himself steady as it was about comforting his companion. "Well," he said, sighing, "if y'don't wanna talk about your problems, I'd be glad t'talk about mine. If nothin' else, you'll get a good night's sleep." He winked and turned to wave goodbye to a rather perplexed Tifa before stepping into the night air with Vincent.
Vincent had jumped when Cid snuggled himself up under his shoulder and slid an arm around his waist. What? "All...right." He said slowly, guiding his slightly wobbly friend out the door and steering them toward his rented apartment. "If you wish to tell me your difficulties..." He was confused, and more than a little uncomfortable, but it was better than being alone with...he shook his head against the unwanted feelings and tightened his arm around Cid.
Cid grinned as he stumbled a few times, relying on Vincent to keep him -both of them, really- from falling face first onto the ground. He found himself appreciating the grace with which the other man moved, and the way he seemed to only want to hold Cid closer rather than push him away as he normally did. The only thing wrong here, Cid observed, was how skinny Vincent was. He frowned about it for a moment before getting distracted. "What, don't wanna hear about it? No, I guess not. S'borin', I guess. Forgot to get 'er a present an' she tossed me out." Cid shrugged, knowing it was more complicated than that and guessing that Vincent saw through him.
Vincent bit back a curse as he tripped over Cid's foot, knowing that it wasn't really his friend's fault. Cid was wrong as he usually was, but he didn't have the heart to correct him. Besides, Cid usually figured it out in his own time. Tonight however he gently nudged the proud pilot with the truth, "It is not 'boring', Chief. I do not like to see you...upset. And we both know that it is more than just a "forgotten present", Shera isn't like that."
"Yeah?" Cid countered, finding it rather hard to be defiant in his current state. "Well, you're upset, too. Ya think I like seein' that? An' just 'cause I harass ya sometimes don't mean I like it when you're miserable, b'fore ya start goin' on about that." He tried to cross his arms, forgetting that one was busy clinging to Vincent. He ended up giving the poor guy an odd half-hug before realizing what he'd done. He shrugged it off. "An' yeah, it's more'n that, but you know all about it already." He was glad to see Vincent's apartment come into view, as he was rather tired of being on his feet.
He gave an odd, involuntary "irk" when Cid's arm squeezed his waist and he briefly wondered if Cid realized his own strength, before his cheeks blazed hotly. Damned, insufferably big-hearted idiot, he thought before he cleared his throat nervously, "You have a most...unique way of showing your concern, Highwind." When they reached the door to Vincent's apartment building, he stopped and propped Cid up against the wall, looking deep into his friend's blue eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he cupped Cid's jaw gently in his gloved, right hand and said, "Then why do you continue to make the both of you suffer? What is it that you want, Chief?"
Cid figured Vincent was leaving the wall to support him so he could open the door, but when the dark-haired man looked at him that way, he knew he was probably in for another lecture. That thought also was expelled when a hand tentatively touched his face. Something was there in Vincent's eyes; not something he'd noticed before. He considered the question. "What do I want?" He laughed cynically. "Can't have what I want. You know that. Me an' you, we're in the same boat on that one. Can't change the past." He let his own right hand cover Vincent's, curious as to what it was doing there and why he wasn't alarmed by it. "Well? Gonna let me in or are we just gonna stand out here an' mope like two hopeless old men?"
"Hmph," Vincent grunted quietly, mildly amused, "you presume to know what I want." He left it at that, but at that moment, truthfully, he didn't know what he wanted. Going into Seventh Heaven, he knew where his thoughts lay, where his heart lay, but somewhere between the bar and his apartment, the lines grew fuzzy, and he suddenly didn't know anymore. Abruptly he jerked his hand out from under Cid's as though he were burned, as a queer twisting in his chest startled him. "I...um...yes, yes of course, we'll...go up." He shook his head as he punched the code for the front door, then wrapped his arm around Cid's waist and all but dragged his friend up the stairs to his apartment.
Cid felt a bit like a rag doll. Vincent certainly seemed to think he was one, he mused, the way he was all affectionate one minute, flustered the next, and suddenly turned slightly aggressive like the way he'd been earlier. He frowned, pondering Vincent's words. Why wouldn't Cid know what Vincent wanted? He was still convinced that everything in the world was his fault. It seemed reasonable that he would want to change part of his past. "Well, look when y're good an' done tossin' me around, you better get talkin', buddy. Worryin' me sick over here, plus I'm gonna pass out in a couple hours, prob'ly. So anyhow...you gotta have a point. Get to it, so I can help an' go t'sleep."
They arrived at his door in short order. Vincent opened it - he didn't need to lock it since the only things he owned were Cerberus and the clothes on this back - and unceremoniously dropped Cid onto the couch. He stalked into the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and brought it back to his friend with the curt order of, "Drink it,” before he finished his moody flight at the window overlooking the skyline of Edge. He was breathing heavily, unbeknownst to him, and he muttered, "I don't understand."
Cid had let out a small "oof" when his back had connected with the hard couch. He’d then struggled to sit up, and had reluctantly accepted the water Vincent offered him, pursing his lips in distaste as he swallowed the supposedly tasteless liquid. He'd always hated drinking water. He sat a bit straighter at Vincent's words, then shook his head and debated his next move. Did he stay silent? Ask from the couch? Move to stand beside him? He reasoned that there was clearly a reason for Vincent depositing him on the couch, so he stayed there. He tossed the empty glass back and forth for a while, staring at the back of Vincent's head. He missed the next catch, and the glass shattered on the floor. "Shit! Sorry."
Vincent jumped when he heard the glass shatter. Kjata! When had he become so jumpy? "No problem, Chief. Glasses are replaceable." He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to gaze out over the slowly darkening city.
Cid glared at himself, which was totally ineffective as he could not see it. He'd missed his chance to figure out what was troubling Vincent. He smirked. He'd get it out of him sooner or later. "I'm gonna clean it up, all right? You...I dunno, don't think too hard 'til I can pay attention." With that, Cid went to the kitchen to retrieve the broom and dustpan, and promptly got to work cleaning the mess.
Vincent listened to Cid for a while as the pilot grumbled under his breath as he swept up the glass shards. Finally he blurted in a near whisper, "She's gone, Cid.”
Cid had learned over the years to listen for even the slightest breath when it came to Vincent. Often missing something meant missing everything, and he was glad for that skill now. He abandoned the glass, which was mostly cleaned up anyway, and walked toward Vincent thinking about the three words. He sighed and placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Know what that means, dontcha?"
"No, Cid." He stared at his friend expressionlessly and said, perhaps a little colder than he had intended, "What does it mean?"
He'd been prepared for sharp words. They only confirmed that he had correctly identified the person responsible for making Vincent miserable tonight. Tonight, every night, every minute. It ran together sometimes, really, and he'd never been able to do anything about it. "Means you don't need 'er. An' don't argue with me. You don't. You don't even remember how strong you are, do ya?" He felt a moment of sympathy, remembering a picture of Vincent he'd seen once. He had been about twenty-three, and his head had been held high. He often wished he could have known that man. "An' just 'cause she's gone don't mean everyone is."
Vincent shook his head sadly and looked back out the window, "I wish it were that easy, Cid. You don't know how desperately I wish for it to be that easy." He cleared his throat automatically when a lump rose in it and his eyes burned for the first time in nearly thirty years. He took a deep breath and let it out. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say. "I don't know...when exactly I stopped loving her like that, only that..." He shook his head, "...only that I did. I don't know why. But she's..." He looked at his friend, "Cid, she's my only chance for forgiveness. If she's gone, then...then I..." He swallowed convulsively as a spike of fear shot through him. I don’t know what I’m going to do. He finished in his mind.
"Then what?" Cid asked softly. "Then you move on? You maybe fall in love, real love, an' finally figure out we ain't been lyin' to ya? Look," he paused to run a hand through his hair, removing his goggles as he did. "Tell me one person who hasn't forgiven you. Who actually matters, that is. No, better yet, just tell me who's important to ya, an' let me guarantee none of 'em hold anything against ya. Don't you get it? It's never been your fault." His hand tightened on Vincent's shoulder, watching in mild horror as tears began to form in those red eyes.
Vincent turned away from Cid, not able to meet that blue gaze. He doesn't understand, he thought, how do I make him understand? Is he even able to? "Cid, you and Cloud and the others...you've all tried, and I'm grateful- truly, but I...I did nothing. How many people died when they didn't have to? I wasn't strong enough to stop a madman...when I should have stopped a madman." He strode away from Cid into the middle of the room where he whirled around abruptly, "And love? Cid, who on Gaia would love a weak creature like me? I'm not human, I don't age...I can't die!" There was suddenly a pit where his heart was, "I turn into fucking monsters!" Suddenly, as though slapped, he fell silent, staring at Cid, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that. It's not your burden, no...I am alone. Cid, I will always be alone," he finished in a quiet, dead voice.
Cid's face remained placid throughout Vincent's breakdown. When it seemed to be done for the moment, he slowly stepped forward, stopping only about a foot away from Vincent. "We tried, huh? Still have you, don't we? I'd say we didn't fail. If we had, you woulda left us. You think I haven't seen people die when I coulda stopped 'em? Cloud? Tifa, even? We've all been helpless, but that don't last." He took a deep breath, preparing himself to work through this. "You tried. You died tryin', an' don't ever let anybody tell you you coulda done more. Standin' here with me, feelin' all this- that makes you human. An' so what if you turn inta monsters? Just means you let us see your demons, don't it?" Cid breathed again, ticking them off on his fingers. "The Galian Beast- the part of every man that's nothin' but an animal. Hellmasker- the way you hide your shame. Death Gigas- rage, an' you have a right to feel that. Chaos," he stopped, laughing darkly. "Chaos is the way you see yourself. You've never even looked at the man standin' in front o' me, have you? Sure, you've seen his scars, maybe called him ugly an' weak, but you don't know who he is, 'cause you're scared of 'im. Let me tell ya, that man sure as hell ain't weak, an' I love him. The rest of us do, too, an' you know that. An' hey, we're all alone, every one of us. As for burdens, if you share it, it ain't so heavy, y'know?"
Vincent gaped. He couldn't help it. Who would have thought that Cid Highwind could be so perceptive? But that emptiness was still there, that unending sadness. He wrapped his arms around himself and managed a weak smile that failed to reach his eyes, "Thank you, Cid." He laughed breathily, "No, I suppose I haven't looked in the mirror. But I don't think I'd recognize him anyway if I did." He turned away and walked into the bedroom, grabbed one of the flat pillows and came back, dropping it onto the sofa before returning to the window and resumed staring, "You can have the bed, Cid. I'll take the couch. I just...want to watch the city for a while..." He rubbed his chest again and hoped that Cid got the message.
Cid would normally have allowed himself some smugness at surprising Vincent Valentine, but the situation didn't quite call for it. He watched Vincent get himself a pillow, and noticed that he seemed to be tired, and not just physically. He wasn't going to argue; after all, this was not his home. However, he did approach Vincent and hug him briefly from behind, whispering, "You need anything, you know where I am." He let him go, knowing that contact was not one of Vincent's favorite things. "You sure you don't want me to sit with ya? You know I will."
Vincent clenched his teeth when Cid hugged him, not because he didn't want the contact, rather because he craved it, desperately! When Cid let him go, a part of him broke and pleaded, don't leave me, but that part wasn't strong enough to be heard. He didn't understand his feelings for the obtuse pilot, but he understood fear, and it was fear that he felt now, a deep, penetrating fear. "I'm scared, Cid." He admitted in a whisper. He began to tremble, "I can't do it anymore. All these years I've told myself that I could. My need for forgiveness kept me going. As long as I had Lucrecia, I had hope...and now it seems that I don't even have that anymore."
Cid resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes dealing with Vincent was like dealing with a very stubborn child. When he admitted flat out that he was afraid, though, Cid's heart broke for him. He stood beside Vincent and bumped him with his shoulder before leaning against him lightly. When he felt the shivering, he was almost overcome with the urge to throw his arms around the poor man and never let him go. Almost. He knew he'd never be forgiven if he did that, and the thought almost made him snort- forgiveness again. "You still don't get it, do ya? She was the one holdin' you back. The whole time she was still with ya, didja feel forgiven? I don't think so. An' if you don't have what you had, look for somethin' better." He let his head rest on Vincent's shoulder, hoping he was welcome to do so. After all, he was tired, but he wasn't leaving while Vincent was like this.
A deep feeling of stillness settled over Vincent when he felt Cid rest his head on his shoulder, and he returned the gesture. Absently he noticed how soft the man's hair was and how it smelled of a not unappealing mixture of shampoo and cigarette smoke. He rubbed his cheek against of the top of Cid's head and sighed, "How do you do it, Chief?"
Cid was...surprised, to say the least, when an equally heavy head rested on his. He smiled, confused but not too worried about it. He'd calmed him down; that was his objective. Hearing him sigh, though- that was different. It wasn't exasperation or hopelessness, but something like contentment. He'd never heard Vincent sound content before, but he liked it. "Do what?" he asked sleepily, hoping the answer was brainless. He'd fall asleep just like this any minute, he was sure, especially if Vincent stayed exactly as he was.
Vincent chuckled, deep and low, a genuine chuckle, "You're tired, Highwind, you should go to bed." Then he grew hesitant, timid one might call it, "Could I...would you allow me..." Kjata! What is your problem, Valentine!? Finally, he blurted, "Cid, it's not my place and I have no right to ask this but...would you allow me to lie next to you? Give me the illusion that I have someone. I-I need..." Vincent was deeply embarrassed, but he couldn't be alone. Even if it was just for one night, it was something. And if he were lucky, Cid would forget about it in the morning.
"Your house, ain't it?" Cid grinned at him, resisting the urge to tell him how stupid he was for thinking he'd refuse. "Come on," he coaxed, grabbing a thin arm and dragging Vincent to the bedroom. He stopped to take the pillow from the couch and whacked Vincent in the chest with it. "Call me an illusion again an' see what happens," he growled playfully. They reached the doorway, and Cid released him so he could stand with his hands on his hips, looking expectantly at Vincent.
Vincent was, well, stunned. He truly hadn't expected Cid to go for the idea and he stood there stupidly, blinking at the pilot. Slowly, almost mechanically he began removing his mantle, draping it carelessly over the back of the chair that was in the room followed by his armored boots and gauntlet. Finally, after loosening the collar of his shirt he gestured to the bed, looking at Cid, "Mm...pick your side."
Cid wondered if it was too late to bail. He hadn't showered, had no clothes to change into, and was having serious trouble deciding which side he wanted. He smiled again and turned to Vincent. "Sure you wanna share a bed with a guy who smells worse'n a barnyard?"
Vincent could sense Cid's unease. "Look, Highwind, if you're uncomfortable with this, I'm fine on the couch." He said quietly. "I was out of line, and I shouldn't have suggested it, forgive me." He turned to leave but hesitated, "You don't smell like a barnyard, Chief. I was joking." He gave a teasing little half smile and began to leave the room.
Cid shook his head, regretting his teasing. He covered ground quickly, grabbing Vincent's arm again and dragging him back. "Now you listen t'me. Since when d'you get to joke but I don't? Dumbass." He pulled back the covers, sat on edge of the right side, and patted the left. "Get in bed b'fore I drag you here by yer ear."
Startled, Vincent complied. He watched Cid curiously, and shook his head, "There, you're doing it again." He gave a small grin and lay down as far to the left as he could. Cid was humoring him, and he didn't want to overstep himself...again. He curled up as best as he could, facing the wall, stiffening when he felt his friend lay down beside him and get settled, "Thank you, Cid. I appreciate this." He murmured and closed his eyes, willing his body to relax and failing miserably.
"Doin' what?" he whined as he watched Vincent curl into an impossibly cramped position on the opposite edge. He shook his head again as he settled behind him, and scooted closer. He wondered whether it would be okay to put an arm around him, and decided that it didn't really matter. "What, you scared o' me?" he asked, and pulled the smaller body closer to the center of the mattress.
Vincent gave a barely audible, most uncharacteristic "eep" as he felt himself being dragged towards the middle of the bed, and up against a very firm, very warm body. That oddly-appealing shampoo and cigarette smoke bouquet enveloped him again, and he found himself snuggling back into the embrace as his muscles slowly uncoiled, and he sank into the mattress. "I'm not scared of you, Chief. I'm scared of what I feel for you." He sighed, without thinking.
Cid would have laughed, but he knew that would only serve to humiliate Vincent. He curled himself around the thin body in front of him and put an arm over the man who finally seemed to be learning how to relax. "Shit, Vin, you think I don't know?" Cid winced. Now it would seem like he knew but didn't return it. "I've just been waitin' for you to decide you wanted me to know. Now quit bein' scared o' yerself an' go to sleep. My head hurts."
Vincent laughed, quietly and said, his voice husky, "Just don't stop doing that thing, Chief. It would kill me if you did." A smile found its way slowly to his lips. "...And please don't hate me if I love you." He breathed.
Cid smiled upon hearing Vincent laugh, as uncertain as that laugh sounded. "Well, if y'd tell me what it is, I'd make sure I never stop." He shifted his hold a bit, putting his palm flat against Vincent's chest to feel his heart beating. "An' didn't I just get done tellin' you I love ya? Now quit bein' ridiculous. Shera'll finally quit bein' mad at me, at least," he muttered, still smiling.
The smile remained as Vincent said, "When I'd thought I lost it, Chief, I seem to have found it again in you. In the teasing, the arguing, the arrogance, idiocy and brilliance. What it is you do? It's hope, Cid. You give me hope." And with that, Vincent Valentine, nestled in the protective, warm arms of one Cid Highwind, relinquished himself to sleep.
Co-Authored by: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Summary: What began as a drinking binge, ends in a startling confession by his best friend.
Rating: PG-13, for language
Characters: Cid/Vincent
Disclaimer: We don’t own ‘em or make money off ‘em, we’re just glad Squeenix shares XD
Warnings: Huh, Cid…just when ya think ya know ‘im…*shakes head, grinning*, oh, and of course the ever-present angst
A/N: This is our first collaboration and reads like the RP that was such fun to write. Silence snuggled Cid (and blew both Vin and I away) and once again I got sucked into Vincent’s head *shrugs*…it was inevitable.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Vincent strode into Seventh Heaven at closing time in a fouler mood than his usual gloominess. He really didn't want to see anyone, but realized his folly too late when he saw Cid Highwind slouched at the bar, nursing something that looked more appropriate for lubricating an engine block than a gastrointestinal tract. With a sigh he sat down next to his friend and ordered red wine...of all things. It was a really bad day. "Chief." He acknowledged; after all, he didn't want be rude.
Cid barely managed a half-grin at Vincent's greeting. He was much more interested in the cheap beer serving as his best friend for the night. He considered just ignoring him, but Vincent was usually a good listener, so he took a drag of his fifth cigarette of the night, chased it down with the rest of the bottle, and turned to the gunslinger, only to find that he also looked like he wanted to drown in his drink. Cid snorted at his choice of beverage. Only the finest for this guy, huh? "S'up, Vince? Day went down the crapper?"
Vincent snorted and delicately sniffed his wine before taking a sip, "Crude, Highwind, but appropriate." He looked askance at his surly-looking friend, "Judging by the quantity of alcohol you appear to have already consumed, is it safe to assume that you had a...less that adequate day yourself?" Okay, he was grumpy. Vincent took another drink then shrunk behind his mantle a little more, glaring straight ahead.
Just watching Vincent growing uncomfortable was enough to make Cid feel better. "Aw, shut up. You don't know how much I had." He flagged Tifa down again, sticking his tongue out when she shook her head sternly at him. "But yep, day sucked." He pushed the barstool back a bit and propped his feet on the bar. All the other patrons had gone, after all, so there was no one to care. "Shera ran me out." He said this with some degree of pride, despite the fact that it left him utterly alone.
"Hm, sorry to hear that, Chief." Vincent looked down at his wine briefly before pushing it away, "Did you forget to bathe again?"
"Hey, hey, I don't forget. Doesn't do fer a man t'smell too clean. Take you for example," Cid said, waving his arms unintentionally. "Smell like...well, shit, I dunno what, but it smells nice. Like a woman. Me, I smell like a man." He huffed as well as he could in his condition. "What, an' now you ain't even drinkin'?" he asked as he watched Vincent push away his drink. "Chicken," he commented, and grabbed the glass, attempting to force Vincent to drink it.
Vincent grabbed Cid's arms and pinned them to his sides before the inebriated pilot could get too far. He raised an elegant brow, "I smell like a woman? I happen to have no need to bathe, Highwind, and I have encountered barnyards that have a more pleasing odor than you tend to possess on an alarmingly regular basis." He said, beginning to get annoyed.
Cid tried not to laugh. He really did. Well, maybe not too hard, but he did make an effort. Still, the only reason he wasn't on the floor was because Vincent was holding him in a rather odd position. Between that and the alcohol, it was hopeless. He let out a bark of laughter at Vincent's clear irritation, followed by a few out-of-control chuckles at his choice of words. "Aw, come on. Lighten up already, would ya? An' let go o' me. My legs're fallin' asleep, yeah?"
Vincent shrugged his broad shoulders and let his grip go, watching impassively as - what could arguably be - his best friend, collapsed onto the floor in a rather undignified heap. He snorted again and resumed his perch at the bar, picking up his wine and taking a sip, "if you insist, Chief."
Cid was still snickering a bit as he stood, hoping that Vincent would be less irritated now that he'd more or less vented a bit. He sat at the bar again and pleaded with Tifa for just one more beer. When he received it, he broke into it immediately, reminded that he had nowhere to go until -and if- Shera forgave him. Still, Vincent normally hid his aggression much better, so he must have been in bad condition. "Feel any better, Vin?" he asked sincerely, smiling to show that he held no hard feelings.
Vincent sighed, ducking into his collar, "As well as can be expected, Cid." He fiddled with his wine glass a moment before glancing at his friend, "do you have a place to stay? I am assuming Shera will not let you back into the house until you made the appropriate sacrificial offerings?" He winced; okay Valentine, that was lame. He looked away, hoping Cid wouldn't see his lightly flushed cheeks.
As much as he wanted to smile at the color in Vincent's cheeks and his interest in making sure Cid didn't end up passed out in the street -not to mention his awkward phrasing of the making-up process- he was more worried about his friend. He frowned, deciding that the beers must be to blame for his sudden selflessness. "Aw, I'll find somewhere. Don't worry 'bout me. But hey, as well as can be expected after what?"
Vincent laughed humorlessly, "Do you have any idea what day it is, Highwind?”
“Well, let's see. Can't see as I'd know why any day'd bother ya. Never told us when your birthday is, never told us when ya got shot -shit, they ain't on the same day, are they? Nah, too damn morbid t'even think about." True to the statement, Cid gave a brief shiver at the though. "The day you proposed...nope, don't know that date, either. Guess none o' that'd help, anyway, seein' as I don't know what day it is." He frowned and began counting on his fingers, looking up a few moments later and grinning proudly. "Tuesday," he announced simply, leaving off the date as he really wasn't sure what it was.
Vincent smiled gently, he couldn't help it, Cid was actually cute when he tried to think. "Cid," He shook his head, "it's February 14th."
"Oh, that’s V- oh. Oh! An' that's why...oh. Well, shit. Glad that's cleared up. Always forget the damned holiday. Such a stupid idea t'begin with, damn women gotta get all crazy over it an' all. But why're you- oh. Hey, I'm sorry, Vin." Though he normally refrained from touching Vincent because he knew how uncomfortable it made him, he thought this occasion called for a hearty clap on the shoulder. "Hey, look, havin' somebody ain't everythin'." Cid winced, realizing he probably wasn't helping. He had a different problem, though- a loveless relationship. He stayed because he owed Shera, and that wasn't fair to either of them. He wondered which was better- unrequited love like Vincent's, or frozen fake love like his.
"It's all right, Chief." He took another drink, "I'm being melodramatic." He didn't want to go into the real reason he felt like shit. Cid didn't need his pathetic problems on top his own, "You're welcome to stay with me if you like. Perhaps it is better that I not be alone." He drained his drink and stood up. His chest hurt and he rubbed at it absently, looking at Cid. "But of course, it is your choice." He managed a weak, half-hearted smile.
"Hey, it ain't just somethin' ya pass off as 'all right.' Talk t'me. S'what friends do, ain't it?" He almost choked when Vincent mentioned that he should not be alone. It sounded to Cid like he didn't want to be alone, and it was the first time he could remember hearing anything like that from the man in front of him. "Hey, I won't leave you alone, either, if you don't wanna be. Let's go, then, an' we'll talk. A' right?"
Vincent nodded and offered his arm to Cid, "It's really none of your concern, Chief. Unimportant. I would..." He hesitated, uncomfortable, "I would like a distraction, from...from my thoughts." He looked away again.
Cid lifted an eyebrow. He stepped under Vincent's arm rather than taking it, causing it to fall around his shoulders. In turn, he put an arm around Vincent's waist. It was as much about keeping himself steady as it was about comforting his companion. "Well," he said, sighing, "if y'don't wanna talk about your problems, I'd be glad t'talk about mine. If nothin' else, you'll get a good night's sleep." He winked and turned to wave goodbye to a rather perplexed Tifa before stepping into the night air with Vincent.
Vincent had jumped when Cid snuggled himself up under his shoulder and slid an arm around his waist. What? "All...right." He said slowly, guiding his slightly wobbly friend out the door and steering them toward his rented apartment. "If you wish to tell me your difficulties..." He was confused, and more than a little uncomfortable, but it was better than being alone with...he shook his head against the unwanted feelings and tightened his arm around Cid.
Cid grinned as he stumbled a few times, relying on Vincent to keep him -both of them, really- from falling face first onto the ground. He found himself appreciating the grace with which the other man moved, and the way he seemed to only want to hold Cid closer rather than push him away as he normally did. The only thing wrong here, Cid observed, was how skinny Vincent was. He frowned about it for a moment before getting distracted. "What, don't wanna hear about it? No, I guess not. S'borin', I guess. Forgot to get 'er a present an' she tossed me out." Cid shrugged, knowing it was more complicated than that and guessing that Vincent saw through him.
Vincent bit back a curse as he tripped over Cid's foot, knowing that it wasn't really his friend's fault. Cid was wrong as he usually was, but he didn't have the heart to correct him. Besides, Cid usually figured it out in his own time. Tonight however he gently nudged the proud pilot with the truth, "It is not 'boring', Chief. I do not like to see you...upset. And we both know that it is more than just a "forgotten present", Shera isn't like that."
"Yeah?" Cid countered, finding it rather hard to be defiant in his current state. "Well, you're upset, too. Ya think I like seein' that? An' just 'cause I harass ya sometimes don't mean I like it when you're miserable, b'fore ya start goin' on about that." He tried to cross his arms, forgetting that one was busy clinging to Vincent. He ended up giving the poor guy an odd half-hug before realizing what he'd done. He shrugged it off. "An' yeah, it's more'n that, but you know all about it already." He was glad to see Vincent's apartment come into view, as he was rather tired of being on his feet.
He gave an odd, involuntary "irk" when Cid's arm squeezed his waist and he briefly wondered if Cid realized his own strength, before his cheeks blazed hotly. Damned, insufferably big-hearted idiot, he thought before he cleared his throat nervously, "You have a most...unique way of showing your concern, Highwind." When they reached the door to Vincent's apartment building, he stopped and propped Cid up against the wall, looking deep into his friend's blue eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he cupped Cid's jaw gently in his gloved, right hand and said, "Then why do you continue to make the both of you suffer? What is it that you want, Chief?"
Cid figured Vincent was leaving the wall to support him so he could open the door, but when the dark-haired man looked at him that way, he knew he was probably in for another lecture. That thought also was expelled when a hand tentatively touched his face. Something was there in Vincent's eyes; not something he'd noticed before. He considered the question. "What do I want?" He laughed cynically. "Can't have what I want. You know that. Me an' you, we're in the same boat on that one. Can't change the past." He let his own right hand cover Vincent's, curious as to what it was doing there and why he wasn't alarmed by it. "Well? Gonna let me in or are we just gonna stand out here an' mope like two hopeless old men?"
"Hmph," Vincent grunted quietly, mildly amused, "you presume to know what I want." He left it at that, but at that moment, truthfully, he didn't know what he wanted. Going into Seventh Heaven, he knew where his thoughts lay, where his heart lay, but somewhere between the bar and his apartment, the lines grew fuzzy, and he suddenly didn't know anymore. Abruptly he jerked his hand out from under Cid's as though he were burned, as a queer twisting in his chest startled him. "I...um...yes, yes of course, we'll...go up." He shook his head as he punched the code for the front door, then wrapped his arm around Cid's waist and all but dragged his friend up the stairs to his apartment.
Cid felt a bit like a rag doll. Vincent certainly seemed to think he was one, he mused, the way he was all affectionate one minute, flustered the next, and suddenly turned slightly aggressive like the way he'd been earlier. He frowned, pondering Vincent's words. Why wouldn't Cid know what Vincent wanted? He was still convinced that everything in the world was his fault. It seemed reasonable that he would want to change part of his past. "Well, look when y're good an' done tossin' me around, you better get talkin', buddy. Worryin' me sick over here, plus I'm gonna pass out in a couple hours, prob'ly. So anyhow...you gotta have a point. Get to it, so I can help an' go t'sleep."
They arrived at his door in short order. Vincent opened it - he didn't need to lock it since the only things he owned were Cerberus and the clothes on this back - and unceremoniously dropped Cid onto the couch. He stalked into the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and brought it back to his friend with the curt order of, "Drink it,” before he finished his moody flight at the window overlooking the skyline of Edge. He was breathing heavily, unbeknownst to him, and he muttered, "I don't understand."
Cid had let out a small "oof" when his back had connected with the hard couch. He’d then struggled to sit up, and had reluctantly accepted the water Vincent offered him, pursing his lips in distaste as he swallowed the supposedly tasteless liquid. He'd always hated drinking water. He sat a bit straighter at Vincent's words, then shook his head and debated his next move. Did he stay silent? Ask from the couch? Move to stand beside him? He reasoned that there was clearly a reason for Vincent depositing him on the couch, so he stayed there. He tossed the empty glass back and forth for a while, staring at the back of Vincent's head. He missed the next catch, and the glass shattered on the floor. "Shit! Sorry."
Vincent jumped when he heard the glass shatter. Kjata! When had he become so jumpy? "No problem, Chief. Glasses are replaceable." He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to gaze out over the slowly darkening city.
Cid glared at himself, which was totally ineffective as he could not see it. He'd missed his chance to figure out what was troubling Vincent. He smirked. He'd get it out of him sooner or later. "I'm gonna clean it up, all right? You...I dunno, don't think too hard 'til I can pay attention." With that, Cid went to the kitchen to retrieve the broom and dustpan, and promptly got to work cleaning the mess.
Vincent listened to Cid for a while as the pilot grumbled under his breath as he swept up the glass shards. Finally he blurted in a near whisper, "She's gone, Cid.”
Cid had learned over the years to listen for even the slightest breath when it came to Vincent. Often missing something meant missing everything, and he was glad for that skill now. He abandoned the glass, which was mostly cleaned up anyway, and walked toward Vincent thinking about the three words. He sighed and placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Know what that means, dontcha?"
"No, Cid." He stared at his friend expressionlessly and said, perhaps a little colder than he had intended, "What does it mean?"
He'd been prepared for sharp words. They only confirmed that he had correctly identified the person responsible for making Vincent miserable tonight. Tonight, every night, every minute. It ran together sometimes, really, and he'd never been able to do anything about it. "Means you don't need 'er. An' don't argue with me. You don't. You don't even remember how strong you are, do ya?" He felt a moment of sympathy, remembering a picture of Vincent he'd seen once. He had been about twenty-three, and his head had been held high. He often wished he could have known that man. "An' just 'cause she's gone don't mean everyone is."
Vincent shook his head sadly and looked back out the window, "I wish it were that easy, Cid. You don't know how desperately I wish for it to be that easy." He cleared his throat automatically when a lump rose in it and his eyes burned for the first time in nearly thirty years. He took a deep breath and let it out. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say. "I don't know...when exactly I stopped loving her like that, only that..." He shook his head, "...only that I did. I don't know why. But she's..." He looked at his friend, "Cid, she's my only chance for forgiveness. If she's gone, then...then I..." He swallowed convulsively as a spike of fear shot through him. I don’t know what I’m going to do. He finished in his mind.
"Then what?" Cid asked softly. "Then you move on? You maybe fall in love, real love, an' finally figure out we ain't been lyin' to ya? Look," he paused to run a hand through his hair, removing his goggles as he did. "Tell me one person who hasn't forgiven you. Who actually matters, that is. No, better yet, just tell me who's important to ya, an' let me guarantee none of 'em hold anything against ya. Don't you get it? It's never been your fault." His hand tightened on Vincent's shoulder, watching in mild horror as tears began to form in those red eyes.
Vincent turned away from Cid, not able to meet that blue gaze. He doesn't understand, he thought, how do I make him understand? Is he even able to? "Cid, you and Cloud and the others...you've all tried, and I'm grateful- truly, but I...I did nothing. How many people died when they didn't have to? I wasn't strong enough to stop a madman...when I should have stopped a madman." He strode away from Cid into the middle of the room where he whirled around abruptly, "And love? Cid, who on Gaia would love a weak creature like me? I'm not human, I don't age...I can't die!" There was suddenly a pit where his heart was, "I turn into fucking monsters!" Suddenly, as though slapped, he fell silent, staring at Cid, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that. It's not your burden, no...I am alone. Cid, I will always be alone," he finished in a quiet, dead voice.
Cid's face remained placid throughout Vincent's breakdown. When it seemed to be done for the moment, he slowly stepped forward, stopping only about a foot away from Vincent. "We tried, huh? Still have you, don't we? I'd say we didn't fail. If we had, you woulda left us. You think I haven't seen people die when I coulda stopped 'em? Cloud? Tifa, even? We've all been helpless, but that don't last." He took a deep breath, preparing himself to work through this. "You tried. You died tryin', an' don't ever let anybody tell you you coulda done more. Standin' here with me, feelin' all this- that makes you human. An' so what if you turn inta monsters? Just means you let us see your demons, don't it?" Cid breathed again, ticking them off on his fingers. "The Galian Beast- the part of every man that's nothin' but an animal. Hellmasker- the way you hide your shame. Death Gigas- rage, an' you have a right to feel that. Chaos," he stopped, laughing darkly. "Chaos is the way you see yourself. You've never even looked at the man standin' in front o' me, have you? Sure, you've seen his scars, maybe called him ugly an' weak, but you don't know who he is, 'cause you're scared of 'im. Let me tell ya, that man sure as hell ain't weak, an' I love him. The rest of us do, too, an' you know that. An' hey, we're all alone, every one of us. As for burdens, if you share it, it ain't so heavy, y'know?"
Vincent gaped. He couldn't help it. Who would have thought that Cid Highwind could be so perceptive? But that emptiness was still there, that unending sadness. He wrapped his arms around himself and managed a weak smile that failed to reach his eyes, "Thank you, Cid." He laughed breathily, "No, I suppose I haven't looked in the mirror. But I don't think I'd recognize him anyway if I did." He turned away and walked into the bedroom, grabbed one of the flat pillows and came back, dropping it onto the sofa before returning to the window and resumed staring, "You can have the bed, Cid. I'll take the couch. I just...want to watch the city for a while..." He rubbed his chest again and hoped that Cid got the message.
Cid would normally have allowed himself some smugness at surprising Vincent Valentine, but the situation didn't quite call for it. He watched Vincent get himself a pillow, and noticed that he seemed to be tired, and not just physically. He wasn't going to argue; after all, this was not his home. However, he did approach Vincent and hug him briefly from behind, whispering, "You need anything, you know where I am." He let him go, knowing that contact was not one of Vincent's favorite things. "You sure you don't want me to sit with ya? You know I will."
Vincent clenched his teeth when Cid hugged him, not because he didn't want the contact, rather because he craved it, desperately! When Cid let him go, a part of him broke and pleaded, don't leave me, but that part wasn't strong enough to be heard. He didn't understand his feelings for the obtuse pilot, but he understood fear, and it was fear that he felt now, a deep, penetrating fear. "I'm scared, Cid." He admitted in a whisper. He began to tremble, "I can't do it anymore. All these years I've told myself that I could. My need for forgiveness kept me going. As long as I had Lucrecia, I had hope...and now it seems that I don't even have that anymore."
Cid resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes dealing with Vincent was like dealing with a very stubborn child. When he admitted flat out that he was afraid, though, Cid's heart broke for him. He stood beside Vincent and bumped him with his shoulder before leaning against him lightly. When he felt the shivering, he was almost overcome with the urge to throw his arms around the poor man and never let him go. Almost. He knew he'd never be forgiven if he did that, and the thought almost made him snort- forgiveness again. "You still don't get it, do ya? She was the one holdin' you back. The whole time she was still with ya, didja feel forgiven? I don't think so. An' if you don't have what you had, look for somethin' better." He let his head rest on Vincent's shoulder, hoping he was welcome to do so. After all, he was tired, but he wasn't leaving while Vincent was like this.
A deep feeling of stillness settled over Vincent when he felt Cid rest his head on his shoulder, and he returned the gesture. Absently he noticed how soft the man's hair was and how it smelled of a not unappealing mixture of shampoo and cigarette smoke. He rubbed his cheek against of the top of Cid's head and sighed, "How do you do it, Chief?"
Cid was...surprised, to say the least, when an equally heavy head rested on his. He smiled, confused but not too worried about it. He'd calmed him down; that was his objective. Hearing him sigh, though- that was different. It wasn't exasperation or hopelessness, but something like contentment. He'd never heard Vincent sound content before, but he liked it. "Do what?" he asked sleepily, hoping the answer was brainless. He'd fall asleep just like this any minute, he was sure, especially if Vincent stayed exactly as he was.
Vincent chuckled, deep and low, a genuine chuckle, "You're tired, Highwind, you should go to bed." Then he grew hesitant, timid one might call it, "Could I...would you allow me..." Kjata! What is your problem, Valentine!? Finally, he blurted, "Cid, it's not my place and I have no right to ask this but...would you allow me to lie next to you? Give me the illusion that I have someone. I-I need..." Vincent was deeply embarrassed, but he couldn't be alone. Even if it was just for one night, it was something. And if he were lucky, Cid would forget about it in the morning.
"Your house, ain't it?" Cid grinned at him, resisting the urge to tell him how stupid he was for thinking he'd refuse. "Come on," he coaxed, grabbing a thin arm and dragging Vincent to the bedroom. He stopped to take the pillow from the couch and whacked Vincent in the chest with it. "Call me an illusion again an' see what happens," he growled playfully. They reached the doorway, and Cid released him so he could stand with his hands on his hips, looking expectantly at Vincent.
Vincent was, well, stunned. He truly hadn't expected Cid to go for the idea and he stood there stupidly, blinking at the pilot. Slowly, almost mechanically he began removing his mantle, draping it carelessly over the back of the chair that was in the room followed by his armored boots and gauntlet. Finally, after loosening the collar of his shirt he gestured to the bed, looking at Cid, "Mm...pick your side."
Cid wondered if it was too late to bail. He hadn't showered, had no clothes to change into, and was having serious trouble deciding which side he wanted. He smiled again and turned to Vincent. "Sure you wanna share a bed with a guy who smells worse'n a barnyard?"
Vincent could sense Cid's unease. "Look, Highwind, if you're uncomfortable with this, I'm fine on the couch." He said quietly. "I was out of line, and I shouldn't have suggested it, forgive me." He turned to leave but hesitated, "You don't smell like a barnyard, Chief. I was joking." He gave a teasing little half smile and began to leave the room.
Cid shook his head, regretting his teasing. He covered ground quickly, grabbing Vincent's arm again and dragging him back. "Now you listen t'me. Since when d'you get to joke but I don't? Dumbass." He pulled back the covers, sat on edge of the right side, and patted the left. "Get in bed b'fore I drag you here by yer ear."
Startled, Vincent complied. He watched Cid curiously, and shook his head, "There, you're doing it again." He gave a small grin and lay down as far to the left as he could. Cid was humoring him, and he didn't want to overstep himself...again. He curled up as best as he could, facing the wall, stiffening when he felt his friend lay down beside him and get settled, "Thank you, Cid. I appreciate this." He murmured and closed his eyes, willing his body to relax and failing miserably.
"Doin' what?" he whined as he watched Vincent curl into an impossibly cramped position on the opposite edge. He shook his head again as he settled behind him, and scooted closer. He wondered whether it would be okay to put an arm around him, and decided that it didn't really matter. "What, you scared o' me?" he asked, and pulled the smaller body closer to the center of the mattress.
Vincent gave a barely audible, most uncharacteristic "eep" as he felt himself being dragged towards the middle of the bed, and up against a very firm, very warm body. That oddly-appealing shampoo and cigarette smoke bouquet enveloped him again, and he found himself snuggling back into the embrace as his muscles slowly uncoiled, and he sank into the mattress. "I'm not scared of you, Chief. I'm scared of what I feel for you." He sighed, without thinking.
Cid would have laughed, but he knew that would only serve to humiliate Vincent. He curled himself around the thin body in front of him and put an arm over the man who finally seemed to be learning how to relax. "Shit, Vin, you think I don't know?" Cid winced. Now it would seem like he knew but didn't return it. "I've just been waitin' for you to decide you wanted me to know. Now quit bein' scared o' yerself an' go to sleep. My head hurts."
Vincent laughed, quietly and said, his voice husky, "Just don't stop doing that thing, Chief. It would kill me if you did." A smile found its way slowly to his lips. "...And please don't hate me if I love you." He breathed.
Cid smiled upon hearing Vincent laugh, as uncertain as that laugh sounded. "Well, if y'd tell me what it is, I'd make sure I never stop." He shifted his hold a bit, putting his palm flat against Vincent's chest to feel his heart beating. "An' didn't I just get done tellin' you I love ya? Now quit bein' ridiculous. Shera'll finally quit bein' mad at me, at least," he muttered, still smiling.
The smile remained as Vincent said, "When I'd thought I lost it, Chief, I seem to have found it again in you. In the teasing, the arguing, the arrogance, idiocy and brilliance. What it is you do? It's hope, Cid. You give me hope." And with that, Vincent Valentine, nestled in the protective, warm arms of one Cid Highwind, relinquished himself to sleep.