Midgar Burning Chapter 52
Title: Midgar Burning
Authors: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Pairing: Cid x Vincent
Rating: NC-17 (eventually), most certainly R
Disclaimer: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be SquareEnix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*, and where they are not then they belong to their respective writers, producers, directors, or other individuals/companies listed under that sneaky little thing called a "copyright".
Warnings: Adult themes, blood, some violence, language, kidnapping, torture, mentions of abuse, murder, and above all else...yaoi, the 'inappropriate to minors' kind, the 'makes us sit up past our bedtimes reading' kind, 'cause lets face it folks, it just wouldn't be the same without it! >:3
Summary: Even as Cid fights to show Vincent it’s okay to love again, Vincent’s enemies are moving in. Can Cid secure a place in Vincent’s heart before their world falls apart?
A/N: Two things folks: 1) This is an RP and 2) This fic is AU. The usual players here: silence = Cid, and all in Cid's world, and yours truly = Vincent, and all in Vin's world. Easiest way to say it. ^^ This fic is a 'novel'-form piece (ie multi-chapter) that is darker than what we normally write, and out of our comfort zone in the fact that we normally prefer to stick to canon-type stuff. But I got the idea from ani_mama 's artwork (more specifically this picture), persuaded silence to "go along with it", and it's been going 'full steam ahead' since then, and quite grown on us. We hope you all like it! Icon art provided by silk_weaver .
Chapter 52
Friday dawned early and quiet for once. No nurses had come in to pester him, all was silent in the hall outside his room, and even the hospital smell was subdued for some reason. They had fallen asleep together in that tiny bed, Vincent front to back with Cid, and he woke up still in the same position. His arms were pulled in against his chest, fists under his chin as he was pressed up against Cid’s broad, strong back. He felt warm and safe, and suddenly he was dragged back the five days that had elapsed to the last time he had been lying in this same position with Cid. Only then, he had been whole. There had been no pain, no bullet fragment slowly shredding his lungs and playing Russian roulette with his heart. He pressed his lips and nose against the skin at the back of Cid’s neck and inhaled slowly. He shut his eyes, determined to preserve this feeling for as long as he could before Tseng once again arrived to herald his life to ruin. “I love you,” he breathed softly into Cid’s sleeping back, and snuggled in even harder.
Cid woke with a small sound of confusion, a delayed reaction to Vincent’s mouth against his neck, and was tempted to roll over and hold him, but chose to keep still. Sleep came again quickly, and when he woke for good, it was to find Vincent pressed so tightly against him that Cid could feel where Vincent’s -Cid’s- shirt had ridden up, and how the skin was bare beyond that. Even as Cid relished in this, Vincent squirmed closer, causing Cid to groan and attempt to scoot away, only to realize that he was on the edge of the small bed already. He sat up instead, swinging his legs over and rubbing at his eyes.
Cid getting up caused Vincent to stir and follow suit, propping himself up on one hand while rubbing one eye with a fist. “Cid? Are you all right?”
Cid shot Vincent a lopsided grin. “Yeah. On’y I think maybe I slep’ too much. Happens sometimes.” He stretched and turned his body to look more easily at Vincent. One of his hands ran lovingly up Vincent’s leg, coming to rest just above his hip, where the shirt halted its progress. After stealing a kiss, he pulled the shirt down carefully. “Don’t be showin’ all that off t’ever’body, now, huh? I’ll be beatin’ people off’n ya with a stick.”
Vincent blushed hotly, embarrassed by such -to him- undeserved attention. Taking the hint, he lay back down and pulled the blankets up over his shoulder and up under his chin. He watched Cid stand up and stretch. “Tseng will be here soon; do you not wish to lay with me anymore?” he asked softly. He didn’t want to dwell on the revulsion he would see on Cid’s face when he learned about his past and just who he really was.
Cid’s eyes lit up. “Y’want me to?” It was unexpected; he had figured that sharing such close space would surely be irritating Vincent by now. “Lemme just take a leak ‘n’ I’ll be right back.” He was almost true to his word; he also stayed in the small adjoining bathroom long enough to brush his teeth. Upon his return, though, he promptly slid back under the covers beside Vincent. “Say, Vincent, y’think you c’d bear t’wake up t’this face th’rest o’ yer life?”
Eyebrow rising, Vincent cocked his head. “Cid, are you… proposing, to me?” he asked, confused and not quite sure what to make of the situation.
Cid had to direct nearly all of his available conscious energy into not chuckling, because he knew it would offend Vincent. “Nothin’ s’grand as all that,” he said once the urge to grin maniacally had passed. “But maybe thinkin’ about it. Maybe one day.” Giving a small sigh as he snuggled in closer, Cid explained further, “I just…I wondered, y’know, ‘cause…well, I know y’d like another chance at a fam’ly. An’ I guess right now ain’t no time t’be plannin’ shit like that, but…y’ve been tellin’ me fer weeks how dangerous yer job is, an’ I know that’s true, an’ now it’s only worse. An’ now I’m associated with y’all, I reckon it’s a little dangerous fer me too. An’ it’s just…t’morra ain’t always guaranteed. An’ if y’still aren’t sure y’c’n handle me long-term, that’s one thing. But if y’are sure, as sure as I am…it’s just somethin’ t’think about.” Surely there were better places to talk about such things than in a cramped hospital bed, and surely there was a better time than now, when only Tseng stood between the current moment and the moment when Cid would apparently be subjected to whatever was so awful in Vincent’s past. But now had felt right somehow; time alone for them was not a certain thing for quite some time in the near future, and these things needed time to be thought about. Or somethin’ like that, Cid thought as he tried to justify his reasoning to himself.
Vincent thought about it a moment and opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance as Tseng knocked politely once on the closed door and let himself in. He snorted upon seeing the two squeezed into the bed together. “Really,” he said wryly, “is that all you two do when you’re together?” He turned around and shut the door securely.
When he turned back around his face was grave. “It’s time, Vincent. I’ve brought your suit, hat, cane and glasses, and also took the liberty of procuring a similar outfit for Mr. Highwind.” He held up the clothing bags.
“You got a what?” Cid deadpanned at Tseng’s mention of getting an outfit for him as well, but he went ignored.
“Thank you, Tseng.” Vincent sighed and sat up. “Did you by chance bring the mako?”
“I did, sir,” Tseng replied, holding up a draw-string velvet bag.
Vincent nodded. “Would you mind guarding the door while we change?”
“Certainly, sir.” Tseng bent at the waist and reached for the doorknob, but hesitated. He turned back, his face lined and tired. “I’m sorry, Vincent, but someone leaked your condition to the press. The entrances are all being watched. The verdict came out from the probate courts awarding you sole custody of all of ShinRa’s assets, and it’s created quite a stir. You need to be prepared.”
Vincent groaned softly, lowering his head into his hand and wincing at the brief sting of answering pain in his chest. There would be meetings and press conferences, interviews and even more meetings, both of the legal variety and the illegal variety. His life was going to be hell for quite a while, until this either died down or something else happened to take the attention off of him. “How are ShinRa’s stocks?” he asked.
“They’ve dropped, which is to be expected. A lot of shareholders panicked when Rufus was killed, but the losses haven’t been too severe. We’re expecting a quick recovery,” Tseng said, nodding.
“Good,” Vincent said, easing his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll attend to my personal business only, today, and begin filling out paperwork this weekend. I’m sure there is quite a bit,” he said wryly. “But I’ll need to you set up a shareholder’s meeting for Wednesday, give them a couple of days warning to adjust their schedules and I’ll meet with the board on Monday, the department heads Tuesday…”
“Vincent,” Tseng said sternly. “You are not in a position to take on such work until you’ve had your last surgery. You’ll exhaust yourself, or worse.”
“I have no choice, Tseng,” Vincent growled, glaring at his second. “If they smell any weakness from me, I’m dead in the water.”
Tseng flattened his lips in a thin line. Vincent had a point, but there was a compromise. “All right, but schedule the meetings for every other day. That is not too long, and the paperwork can be stretched even further.”
“I’ll see what I can do…” Vincent started then sighed in exasperation. “Okay, fine! Every other day. Now shoo…” He made an upside down waving gesture to indicate Tseng should step outside. Glaring irritably, Tseng did so and Vincent stood up and hobbled over the garment bags. After unzipping one, he held out the other to Cid.
“Oh, hell no. I ain’t wearin’ one o’ them suits.” He looked plaintively at Vincent, but knew there was nothing he could do but accept the gift and wear it. He gave a histrionic sigh as he held up the pieces of it and lay them on his bed. And, to put off getting dressed as long as possible: “Vincent, you gonna need some help with that?”
“No, I- I think I can get it,” Vincent said softly, looking down at his suit. “I’m sorry, Cid. But the suit is for your protection as much as anything else. People will be less likely to recognize you. If- if you could be so kind as to turn your back please, I’ll be presentable in a moment.” He finished with a light blush coloring his cheeks rose.
“Kay. But can y’blame me?” he asked, turning his back as he pulled his own shirt over his head. “Y’saw what happened last time yer Tseng went shoppin’ for me.” He scowled at the dark blue fabric as he finished stripping and began to dress. “An’ I sure as hell ain’t wearin’ a tie,” he grouched, tossing the offending article into the pile with his discarded clothes. “The fuck is this?” At the bottom of the bag was a rather delicate looking necklace, braided chains woven around each other, one yellow gold and one white gold. “Must be fer Aerith. Whaddaya think, Vince?” Cid inquired, turning around to show Vincent, his shirt and jacket still unbuttoned.
Vincent tried hard not to cringe at Cid’s tone. The man had every right to feel that way. So he attempted to ignore the grumbling as he unzipped his own garment bag. He first took out his boxers and sat down on the bed. It took him three tries to get the damn things on, finally having to drop them on the ground and step into them. He then sat back down and awkwardly bent his legs until he could get his hands on them and by the time he stood up and pulled them up and over his hips he was sweating and breathing hard. He had never thought something as simple as dressing oneself could be so difficult! He wanted to weep at the thought of putting on the rest of the suit, but he would be damned if clothing would beat him. And he had to be able to make it on his own once he got back to the ShinRa Tower, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to make Tseng move in with him just to help him dress. Gritting his teeth, he decided to go with his fine black linen shirt next. But that meant getting out of Cid’s shirt, which would be difficult since he couldn’t raise his arms over shoulder height without pain. Taking as deep a breath as he could he slowly pulled his arms into the shirt and began shimmying it over his head. He had only made it halfway with a muttered, “Fuck,” before he realized that Cid had asked him a question. Pausing in his struggles he panted, voice muffled by the shirt, “Give me a moment Cid, I can’t see.”
Amused despite himself, Cid concurred softly, “I’d say y’can’t.” He crossed to the other bed and lifted the shirt the rest of the way off Vincent. “An’ if you wanna go anywhere t’day y’re gonna let me help ya with this. I’ll even tell yer Tseng y’did it yerself with no trouble.” Concerned, Cid waited for Vincent to agree to his terms.
“For the love of Odin, I can dress myself, Cid, I’m not a child!” Vincent said, eyes burning and averted while his body shook with frustration and cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I don’t need you making excuses for me.”
“I know you can. Look at me. I know ya can. But I want you walkin’ outta here on yer own feet, like you wanna be, with that cane there fer just in case, not because you wouldn’t be able t’walk without it. I want ya t’be able t’go the rest o’ the day without hurtin’ yerself.” He looked again at the chain he was grasping in his left hand. Gold and pale; Cid and Vincent. It was for him after all. “You put this on me,” he said, extending the hand with the chain, “an’ I’ll put this on you.” Cid gestured to the red suit jacket. “An’ then you c’n button me up ‘cause I’ll be damned if c’n figger out how they line up, an’ if’n y’need help with th’pants, I’ll do that too. Because I love you, an’ I want ya t’feel better. Not because I don’t think you can.”
Vincent’s chin quivered and he refused to look at Cid as he rasped brokenly, “Damn you, Cid Highwind.” Now his voice shook. “Damn you for your patience and your heart.” He took the delicate chain in his hand, studying it a moment before he raised his hands and slipped it around Cid’s neck, and fastened the delicate clasp. It looked so good against Cid’s tawny skin, so right. He rested his pale hand over Cid’s heart, over the unmarred, smooth, flesh, his eyes infinitely sad. Even his bones felt too heavy. Here he was sitting beaten and broken, crisscrossed with scars, barely able to breathe and dressed only in his boxers… pathetic. At that moment all he wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep and hope he never woke up. But that wouldn’t happen, would it? And it wouldn’t get things done. Vincent reached over, hands steadier this time, and pulled out his black shirt. It was easier to get on since he didn’t have to bring it over his head, and he buttoned it up, followed by the red tie. Wordlessly, he handed Cid his slacks.
Cid lay the slacks across his lap, no doubt wrinkling them somewhat. He placed a hand on Vincent’s face and then leaned forward to distract Vincent from his apparent misery with a gentle but passionate kiss that was meant to say firmly that he loved Vincent. Keeping his eyes on Vincent’s face, Cid moved in front of him and began working the pants onto Vincent’s long, pale legs. “I always wanted legs like yours, y’know? Long an’ sexy like that. Me, I w’s always th’short an’ stocky kind.” A grin formed as he continued, “But if y’find me attractive, then I guess I’m damned glad I look just th’way I do.”
Cid’s kiss had left Vincent a little dizzy, and even more breathless than he already was, so his voice was a little thin and a bit higher pitched than his usual deep rumble. “You cannot possibly think these skinny, pasty, shapeless chocobo legs are attractive,” he said disbelievingly. “Look at you Cid; you glow with health, perfectly proportioned and beautiful.” He shook his head. “I have never understood what people found so desirable in how I look.”
“That’s ‘cause you look at yerself expectin’ t’see somethin’ y’don’t like.” To add emphasis, he kissed the inside of a skinny, pasty chocobo knee before sliding the slacks the rest of the way up until Vincent would have to stand or lift himself a bit. “Pers’nally, I don’t know what y’don’t see. Y’re the tall, dark, an’ handsome, with that deep voice an’ those pretty eyes t’boot. Not t’mention it’s damn hot when y’talk in Wutainese.” Cid stood, knees cracking as he straightened. “Y’really are gonna hafta teach me sometime. ‘Specially th’swear words.”
Vincent blushed furiously, mildly horrified at himself for reacting that way. He had never considered himself that. Sure he knew others had considered him attractive… beautiful, even if some of the men who had used him over years had said, but he had never seen it. It meant something altogether different when someone you loved said those things. One might almost come to believe it. He stood and pulled his slacks up the rest of the way, meticulously tucking in his shirt, and then in turn buttoned Cid’s shirt. He handed Cid his jacket with a mumbled, “You are too kind.” Cid’s request to learn Wutainese, however, startled him somewhat, but it warmed him that the man wished to learn his native tongue. “We shall see about the Wutainese, Cid. It is a difficult language to learn,” he said softly, a smile gracing his lips that was reflected in his eyes.
“Nah. I’m just obsessed, yeah?” he teased. Frowning, Cid unbuttoned the top two buttons. He felt he would surely choke if he left them done. “An’ I don’t doubt it’ll be too much fer me t’learn. But just think-” and here he leaned forward again to whisper into Vincent’s ear, “-think how when I get it right, y’c’n tell me what a good boy I am, maybe gimme a little reward, huh? An’ when I get it wrong, an’ y’know I’m screwin’ up on purpose…?”
Vincent shuddered, his eyelids fluttering as an unexpected surge of arousal shot down his spine to settle in between his legs. Unbidden his hands came up to thread fingers through Cid’s hair and fist, holding Cid’s head immobile, leaning in to whisper back into Cid’s ear. “You want me to punish you? Is that it Cid? Do you want me to make you beg? Beg until you learn to do it right?” His body had unconsciously moved closer into Cid’s until they almost touched.
Cid groaned and slanted his lips so he could mouth at Vincent’s earlobe. “Yes,” he whispered. “Fuck, Vincent, that an’ so much more.” He gave a shudder of his own and reached for Vincent’s free hand with his. He wanted to push Vincent down so that he lay flat across the bed, plenty of room for Cid to crawl atop him. He wanted to rumple the suit properly, make it clear to everyone just what Vincent had been doing and with whom he had been doing it. He wanted to show everyone-“I’m sorry, Vincent, but someone leaked your condition to the press. The entrances are all being watched.” Another groan, and Cid dragged his lips back from Vincent’s ear and gently tried to pull free of the grip in his hair. “Later,” he rasped, and licked his dry lips. “Ain’t havin’ no mercy on ya once y’ve had that other surgery. Hope y’don’t mind.”
The only answer Vincent gave Cid was a fierce, hungry kiss and a very firm, impossible to misinterpret fondle of the man’s crotch accompanied by a heavy-lidded, toothy grin. “Will you help me with my shoes please, and I’ll consider giving you a freebie when I’m fully restored to health.”
Cid huffed out a breath that turned into yet another groan, then swallowed. “Thought y’wanted me t’stay away from yer shoes?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but squatted to slip on Vincent’s socks and shoes anyway, the position acutely uncomfortable now. “Y’re not gonna know what hit ya, Valentine,” he growled playfully.
“I’m sure I won’t.” Vincent whispered, liking the way Cid looked on his knees. Thoughts and images ran though his mind, and he fought not to feel dirty and horrified at having them. But it was different with someone you loved, right? It confused him, but he would dwell upon it later. When Cid stood back up, Vincent retrieved the matching dark blue fedora and placed it on Cid’s head at a rakish angle. He cocked his head and nodded slightly. “It suits you,” he said before donning his own. He handed Cid his dark glasses, and putting on his own, picked up his cane and was about to leave the room when he stopped, feeling a small spurt of panic. He turned back and picked up the stuffed bandersnatch and murmured, “Almost forgot you, mustn’t do that.” He also picked up their few belongings and when he stepped out into the hallway handed them to Tseng but retained the bandersnatch. He would hand it over at the door.
Cid smiled fondly as he saw Vincent go back for Domino. He had to admit he was quite fond of the thing as well. He straightened his suit, smoothed his slacks, and tried to feel as proper as he was sure he was supposed to look. No matter what Vincent said, this wasn’t him. Hats weren’t him. But he figured that if Vincent asked him to dress as a pink moogle, he would probably do it.
On their way down the hall, Vincent leaning heavily on his cane and walking painfully slowly, they ran into Dr. Bugenhagen. Vincent nodded. “Doctor.”
“Remember your appointment, Mr. Valentine, and I’m going to reiterate my severe reluctance and displeasure at releasing you,” Dr. Bugenhagen said flatly.
“Duly noted, doctor, and I shan’t forget my appointment,” Vincent said diplomatically.
“I’ve sent oxygen back with Mr. Tseng, here. Use it. And I’ll see you in two weeks. Please do try and take it easy,” Dr. Bugenhagen huffed.
Vincent nodded, and with Tseng and Cid in tow finished his agonizing travel to the lobby of the hospital where Tseng had informed him the cars were waiting for them. Them had thrown Vincent a moment until he realized that all of the others were waiting for them. Verdot, Rude and Reno were dressed similarly to Tseng and they all looked tense an anxious. “Relax, gentlemen,” Vincent said, approaching them. He gave them all a wan smile. “Let’s just get to the vehicles, shall we?”
The three nodded and Reno and Rude took positions in front of him, Tseng was to Vincent’s left and Cid to his right with Verdot bringing up the rear. Taking a deep breath, Vincent handed Tseng the bandersnatch, which the Wutaian discreetly tucked into the bag as the entourage exited the hospital. Vincent didn’t want to display any weakness, so he forced himself to stand up straight and proud, his shoulders back and his chin up. Pain sliced through his chest immediately, and he had to stop a moment for fear of passing out, but he got himself under control quickly. As the hospital doors swished open, they were met by a barrage of flashes, television cameras and questions.
“Mr. Valentine, is it true you were shot by Rufus ShinRa…?”
“Mr. Valentine, are we correct in hearing that you inherited the entire ShinRa fortune…?”
“Mr. Valentine, do you know who murdered Rufus ShinRa…?”
“Mr. Valentine, is it true you killed Rufus ShinRa…?”
“Mr. Valentine, who is your new man…?”
“Mr. Valentine...”
“Please, Mr. Valentine, just a moment of your time…!”
As Rude and Reno gently pushed their way through the crowd, Vincent stopped and raised his hand and immediately all chatter ceased, but the flashbulbs continued to snap and flash. “Please, everyone,” Vincent said, and he had no idea how he managed to make his voice sound so strong when every syllable felt like it shredded his throat. “I’ll be glad to answer each and every one of your questions, but now is not the time to do so. I have personal business to attend to, but I have every intention of holding a brief press conference when I have had a chance to see to the wellbeing of ShinRa Pharmaceuticals. I will let you all know the date and time, that is all. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Like clockwork, the questions began again, but Vincent was completely focused upon making it the waiting car, hand gripping his cane so hard his fingers hurt. With the help of the others bulldozing a path, he made it. Once he was safely in the vehicle and behind deeply tinted windows with Cid next to him, Verdot and Tseng driving and in the front passenger seat, respectively, he collapsed back into the seat and struggled to breathe. He felt the coppery tang of blood, and he fought a brief moment of panic. His breaths came in short wheezing pants until he could get it under control, and he felt light headed. Blindly, he sought out Cid’s hand and held on.
The crowd seemed to stretch on forever. Cid didn't think he'd ever seen so many people in one place except at parties or concerts he'd had to patrol. Cameras and microphones jutted out from every direction, and he could almost feel Vincent being smothered bit by bit. Somehow they made it to the car, and the way Vincent was breathing had Cid immediately seeking out the oxygen. He squeezed back when Vincent squeezed his hand, and as they drove away -and the crowd was very reluctant to part for the moving vehicle- Cid decided that anyone who envied Vincent was a fool.
Authors: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Pairing: Cid x Vincent
Rating: NC-17 (eventually), most certainly R
Disclaimer: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be SquareEnix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*, and where they are not then they belong to their respective writers, producers, directors, or other individuals/companies listed under that sneaky little thing called a "copyright".
Warnings: Adult themes, blood, some violence, language, kidnapping, torture, mentions of abuse, murder, and above all else...yaoi, the 'inappropriate to minors' kind, the 'makes us sit up past our bedtimes reading' kind, 'cause lets face it folks, it just wouldn't be the same without it! >:3
Summary: Even as Cid fights to show Vincent it’s okay to love again, Vincent’s enemies are moving in. Can Cid secure a place in Vincent’s heart before their world falls apart?
A/N: Two things folks: 1) This is an RP and 2) This fic is AU. The usual players here: silence = Cid, and all in Cid's world, and yours truly = Vincent, and all in Vin's world. Easiest way to say it. ^^ This fic is a 'novel'-form piece (ie multi-chapter) that is darker than what we normally write, and out of our comfort zone in the fact that we normally prefer to stick to canon-type stuff. But I got the idea from ani_mama 's artwork (more specifically this picture), persuaded silence to "go along with it", and it's been going 'full steam ahead' since then, and quite grown on us. We hope you all like it! Icon art provided by silk_weaver .
Chapter 52
Friday dawned early and quiet for once. No nurses had come in to pester him, all was silent in the hall outside his room, and even the hospital smell was subdued for some reason. They had fallen asleep together in that tiny bed, Vincent front to back with Cid, and he woke up still in the same position. His arms were pulled in against his chest, fists under his chin as he was pressed up against Cid’s broad, strong back. He felt warm and safe, and suddenly he was dragged back the five days that had elapsed to the last time he had been lying in this same position with Cid. Only then, he had been whole. There had been no pain, no bullet fragment slowly shredding his lungs and playing Russian roulette with his heart. He pressed his lips and nose against the skin at the back of Cid’s neck and inhaled slowly. He shut his eyes, determined to preserve this feeling for as long as he could before Tseng once again arrived to herald his life to ruin. “I love you,” he breathed softly into Cid’s sleeping back, and snuggled in even harder.
Cid woke with a small sound of confusion, a delayed reaction to Vincent’s mouth against his neck, and was tempted to roll over and hold him, but chose to keep still. Sleep came again quickly, and when he woke for good, it was to find Vincent pressed so tightly against him that Cid could feel where Vincent’s -Cid’s- shirt had ridden up, and how the skin was bare beyond that. Even as Cid relished in this, Vincent squirmed closer, causing Cid to groan and attempt to scoot away, only to realize that he was on the edge of the small bed already. He sat up instead, swinging his legs over and rubbing at his eyes.
Cid getting up caused Vincent to stir and follow suit, propping himself up on one hand while rubbing one eye with a fist. “Cid? Are you all right?”
Cid shot Vincent a lopsided grin. “Yeah. On’y I think maybe I slep’ too much. Happens sometimes.” He stretched and turned his body to look more easily at Vincent. One of his hands ran lovingly up Vincent’s leg, coming to rest just above his hip, where the shirt halted its progress. After stealing a kiss, he pulled the shirt down carefully. “Don’t be showin’ all that off t’ever’body, now, huh? I’ll be beatin’ people off’n ya with a stick.”
Vincent blushed hotly, embarrassed by such -to him- undeserved attention. Taking the hint, he lay back down and pulled the blankets up over his shoulder and up under his chin. He watched Cid stand up and stretch. “Tseng will be here soon; do you not wish to lay with me anymore?” he asked softly. He didn’t want to dwell on the revulsion he would see on Cid’s face when he learned about his past and just who he really was.
Cid’s eyes lit up. “Y’want me to?” It was unexpected; he had figured that sharing such close space would surely be irritating Vincent by now. “Lemme just take a leak ‘n’ I’ll be right back.” He was almost true to his word; he also stayed in the small adjoining bathroom long enough to brush his teeth. Upon his return, though, he promptly slid back under the covers beside Vincent. “Say, Vincent, y’think you c’d bear t’wake up t’this face th’rest o’ yer life?”
Eyebrow rising, Vincent cocked his head. “Cid, are you… proposing, to me?” he asked, confused and not quite sure what to make of the situation.
Cid had to direct nearly all of his available conscious energy into not chuckling, because he knew it would offend Vincent. “Nothin’ s’grand as all that,” he said once the urge to grin maniacally had passed. “But maybe thinkin’ about it. Maybe one day.” Giving a small sigh as he snuggled in closer, Cid explained further, “I just…I wondered, y’know, ‘cause…well, I know y’d like another chance at a fam’ly. An’ I guess right now ain’t no time t’be plannin’ shit like that, but…y’ve been tellin’ me fer weeks how dangerous yer job is, an’ I know that’s true, an’ now it’s only worse. An’ now I’m associated with y’all, I reckon it’s a little dangerous fer me too. An’ it’s just…t’morra ain’t always guaranteed. An’ if y’still aren’t sure y’c’n handle me long-term, that’s one thing. But if y’are sure, as sure as I am…it’s just somethin’ t’think about.” Surely there were better places to talk about such things than in a cramped hospital bed, and surely there was a better time than now, when only Tseng stood between the current moment and the moment when Cid would apparently be subjected to whatever was so awful in Vincent’s past. But now had felt right somehow; time alone for them was not a certain thing for quite some time in the near future, and these things needed time to be thought about. Or somethin’ like that, Cid thought as he tried to justify his reasoning to himself.
Vincent thought about it a moment and opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance as Tseng knocked politely once on the closed door and let himself in. He snorted upon seeing the two squeezed into the bed together. “Really,” he said wryly, “is that all you two do when you’re together?” He turned around and shut the door securely.
When he turned back around his face was grave. “It’s time, Vincent. I’ve brought your suit, hat, cane and glasses, and also took the liberty of procuring a similar outfit for Mr. Highwind.” He held up the clothing bags.
“You got a what?” Cid deadpanned at Tseng’s mention of getting an outfit for him as well, but he went ignored.
“Thank you, Tseng.” Vincent sighed and sat up. “Did you by chance bring the mako?”
“I did, sir,” Tseng replied, holding up a draw-string velvet bag.
Vincent nodded. “Would you mind guarding the door while we change?”
“Certainly, sir.” Tseng bent at the waist and reached for the doorknob, but hesitated. He turned back, his face lined and tired. “I’m sorry, Vincent, but someone leaked your condition to the press. The entrances are all being watched. The verdict came out from the probate courts awarding you sole custody of all of ShinRa’s assets, and it’s created quite a stir. You need to be prepared.”
Vincent groaned softly, lowering his head into his hand and wincing at the brief sting of answering pain in his chest. There would be meetings and press conferences, interviews and even more meetings, both of the legal variety and the illegal variety. His life was going to be hell for quite a while, until this either died down or something else happened to take the attention off of him. “How are ShinRa’s stocks?” he asked.
“They’ve dropped, which is to be expected. A lot of shareholders panicked when Rufus was killed, but the losses haven’t been too severe. We’re expecting a quick recovery,” Tseng said, nodding.
“Good,” Vincent said, easing his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll attend to my personal business only, today, and begin filling out paperwork this weekend. I’m sure there is quite a bit,” he said wryly. “But I’ll need to you set up a shareholder’s meeting for Wednesday, give them a couple of days warning to adjust their schedules and I’ll meet with the board on Monday, the department heads Tuesday…”
“Vincent,” Tseng said sternly. “You are not in a position to take on such work until you’ve had your last surgery. You’ll exhaust yourself, or worse.”
“I have no choice, Tseng,” Vincent growled, glaring at his second. “If they smell any weakness from me, I’m dead in the water.”
Tseng flattened his lips in a thin line. Vincent had a point, but there was a compromise. “All right, but schedule the meetings for every other day. That is not too long, and the paperwork can be stretched even further.”
“I’ll see what I can do…” Vincent started then sighed in exasperation. “Okay, fine! Every other day. Now shoo…” He made an upside down waving gesture to indicate Tseng should step outside. Glaring irritably, Tseng did so and Vincent stood up and hobbled over the garment bags. After unzipping one, he held out the other to Cid.
“Oh, hell no. I ain’t wearin’ one o’ them suits.” He looked plaintively at Vincent, but knew there was nothing he could do but accept the gift and wear it. He gave a histrionic sigh as he held up the pieces of it and lay them on his bed. And, to put off getting dressed as long as possible: “Vincent, you gonna need some help with that?”
“No, I- I think I can get it,” Vincent said softly, looking down at his suit. “I’m sorry, Cid. But the suit is for your protection as much as anything else. People will be less likely to recognize you. If- if you could be so kind as to turn your back please, I’ll be presentable in a moment.” He finished with a light blush coloring his cheeks rose.
“Kay. But can y’blame me?” he asked, turning his back as he pulled his own shirt over his head. “Y’saw what happened last time yer Tseng went shoppin’ for me.” He scowled at the dark blue fabric as he finished stripping and began to dress. “An’ I sure as hell ain’t wearin’ a tie,” he grouched, tossing the offending article into the pile with his discarded clothes. “The fuck is this?” At the bottom of the bag was a rather delicate looking necklace, braided chains woven around each other, one yellow gold and one white gold. “Must be fer Aerith. Whaddaya think, Vince?” Cid inquired, turning around to show Vincent, his shirt and jacket still unbuttoned.
Vincent tried hard not to cringe at Cid’s tone. The man had every right to feel that way. So he attempted to ignore the grumbling as he unzipped his own garment bag. He first took out his boxers and sat down on the bed. It took him three tries to get the damn things on, finally having to drop them on the ground and step into them. He then sat back down and awkwardly bent his legs until he could get his hands on them and by the time he stood up and pulled them up and over his hips he was sweating and breathing hard. He had never thought something as simple as dressing oneself could be so difficult! He wanted to weep at the thought of putting on the rest of the suit, but he would be damned if clothing would beat him. And he had to be able to make it on his own once he got back to the ShinRa Tower, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to make Tseng move in with him just to help him dress. Gritting his teeth, he decided to go with his fine black linen shirt next. But that meant getting out of Cid’s shirt, which would be difficult since he couldn’t raise his arms over shoulder height without pain. Taking as deep a breath as he could he slowly pulled his arms into the shirt and began shimmying it over his head. He had only made it halfway with a muttered, “Fuck,” before he realized that Cid had asked him a question. Pausing in his struggles he panted, voice muffled by the shirt, “Give me a moment Cid, I can’t see.”
Amused despite himself, Cid concurred softly, “I’d say y’can’t.” He crossed to the other bed and lifted the shirt the rest of the way off Vincent. “An’ if you wanna go anywhere t’day y’re gonna let me help ya with this. I’ll even tell yer Tseng y’did it yerself with no trouble.” Concerned, Cid waited for Vincent to agree to his terms.
“For the love of Odin, I can dress myself, Cid, I’m not a child!” Vincent said, eyes burning and averted while his body shook with frustration and cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I don’t need you making excuses for me.”
“I know you can. Look at me. I know ya can. But I want you walkin’ outta here on yer own feet, like you wanna be, with that cane there fer just in case, not because you wouldn’t be able t’walk without it. I want ya t’be able t’go the rest o’ the day without hurtin’ yerself.” He looked again at the chain he was grasping in his left hand. Gold and pale; Cid and Vincent. It was for him after all. “You put this on me,” he said, extending the hand with the chain, “an’ I’ll put this on you.” Cid gestured to the red suit jacket. “An’ then you c’n button me up ‘cause I’ll be damned if c’n figger out how they line up, an’ if’n y’need help with th’pants, I’ll do that too. Because I love you, an’ I want ya t’feel better. Not because I don’t think you can.”
Vincent’s chin quivered and he refused to look at Cid as he rasped brokenly, “Damn you, Cid Highwind.” Now his voice shook. “Damn you for your patience and your heart.” He took the delicate chain in his hand, studying it a moment before he raised his hands and slipped it around Cid’s neck, and fastened the delicate clasp. It looked so good against Cid’s tawny skin, so right. He rested his pale hand over Cid’s heart, over the unmarred, smooth, flesh, his eyes infinitely sad. Even his bones felt too heavy. Here he was sitting beaten and broken, crisscrossed with scars, barely able to breathe and dressed only in his boxers… pathetic. At that moment all he wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep and hope he never woke up. But that wouldn’t happen, would it? And it wouldn’t get things done. Vincent reached over, hands steadier this time, and pulled out his black shirt. It was easier to get on since he didn’t have to bring it over his head, and he buttoned it up, followed by the red tie. Wordlessly, he handed Cid his slacks.
Cid lay the slacks across his lap, no doubt wrinkling them somewhat. He placed a hand on Vincent’s face and then leaned forward to distract Vincent from his apparent misery with a gentle but passionate kiss that was meant to say firmly that he loved Vincent. Keeping his eyes on Vincent’s face, Cid moved in front of him and began working the pants onto Vincent’s long, pale legs. “I always wanted legs like yours, y’know? Long an’ sexy like that. Me, I w’s always th’short an’ stocky kind.” A grin formed as he continued, “But if y’find me attractive, then I guess I’m damned glad I look just th’way I do.”
Cid’s kiss had left Vincent a little dizzy, and even more breathless than he already was, so his voice was a little thin and a bit higher pitched than his usual deep rumble. “You cannot possibly think these skinny, pasty, shapeless chocobo legs are attractive,” he said disbelievingly. “Look at you Cid; you glow with health, perfectly proportioned and beautiful.” He shook his head. “I have never understood what people found so desirable in how I look.”
“That’s ‘cause you look at yerself expectin’ t’see somethin’ y’don’t like.” To add emphasis, he kissed the inside of a skinny, pasty chocobo knee before sliding the slacks the rest of the way up until Vincent would have to stand or lift himself a bit. “Pers’nally, I don’t know what y’don’t see. Y’re the tall, dark, an’ handsome, with that deep voice an’ those pretty eyes t’boot. Not t’mention it’s damn hot when y’talk in Wutainese.” Cid stood, knees cracking as he straightened. “Y’really are gonna hafta teach me sometime. ‘Specially th’swear words.”
Vincent blushed furiously, mildly horrified at himself for reacting that way. He had never considered himself that. Sure he knew others had considered him attractive… beautiful, even if some of the men who had used him over years had said, but he had never seen it. It meant something altogether different when someone you loved said those things. One might almost come to believe it. He stood and pulled his slacks up the rest of the way, meticulously tucking in his shirt, and then in turn buttoned Cid’s shirt. He handed Cid his jacket with a mumbled, “You are too kind.” Cid’s request to learn Wutainese, however, startled him somewhat, but it warmed him that the man wished to learn his native tongue. “We shall see about the Wutainese, Cid. It is a difficult language to learn,” he said softly, a smile gracing his lips that was reflected in his eyes.
“Nah. I’m just obsessed, yeah?” he teased. Frowning, Cid unbuttoned the top two buttons. He felt he would surely choke if he left them done. “An’ I don’t doubt it’ll be too much fer me t’learn. But just think-” and here he leaned forward again to whisper into Vincent’s ear, “-think how when I get it right, y’c’n tell me what a good boy I am, maybe gimme a little reward, huh? An’ when I get it wrong, an’ y’know I’m screwin’ up on purpose…?”
Vincent shuddered, his eyelids fluttering as an unexpected surge of arousal shot down his spine to settle in between his legs. Unbidden his hands came up to thread fingers through Cid’s hair and fist, holding Cid’s head immobile, leaning in to whisper back into Cid’s ear. “You want me to punish you? Is that it Cid? Do you want me to make you beg? Beg until you learn to do it right?” His body had unconsciously moved closer into Cid’s until they almost touched.
Cid groaned and slanted his lips so he could mouth at Vincent’s earlobe. “Yes,” he whispered. “Fuck, Vincent, that an’ so much more.” He gave a shudder of his own and reached for Vincent’s free hand with his. He wanted to push Vincent down so that he lay flat across the bed, plenty of room for Cid to crawl atop him. He wanted to rumple the suit properly, make it clear to everyone just what Vincent had been doing and with whom he had been doing it. He wanted to show everyone-“I’m sorry, Vincent, but someone leaked your condition to the press. The entrances are all being watched.” Another groan, and Cid dragged his lips back from Vincent’s ear and gently tried to pull free of the grip in his hair. “Later,” he rasped, and licked his dry lips. “Ain’t havin’ no mercy on ya once y’ve had that other surgery. Hope y’don’t mind.”
The only answer Vincent gave Cid was a fierce, hungry kiss and a very firm, impossible to misinterpret fondle of the man’s crotch accompanied by a heavy-lidded, toothy grin. “Will you help me with my shoes please, and I’ll consider giving you a freebie when I’m fully restored to health.”
Cid huffed out a breath that turned into yet another groan, then swallowed. “Thought y’wanted me t’stay away from yer shoes?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but squatted to slip on Vincent’s socks and shoes anyway, the position acutely uncomfortable now. “Y’re not gonna know what hit ya, Valentine,” he growled playfully.
“I’m sure I won’t.” Vincent whispered, liking the way Cid looked on his knees. Thoughts and images ran though his mind, and he fought not to feel dirty and horrified at having them. But it was different with someone you loved, right? It confused him, but he would dwell upon it later. When Cid stood back up, Vincent retrieved the matching dark blue fedora and placed it on Cid’s head at a rakish angle. He cocked his head and nodded slightly. “It suits you,” he said before donning his own. He handed Cid his dark glasses, and putting on his own, picked up his cane and was about to leave the room when he stopped, feeling a small spurt of panic. He turned back and picked up the stuffed bandersnatch and murmured, “Almost forgot you, mustn’t do that.” He also picked up their few belongings and when he stepped out into the hallway handed them to Tseng but retained the bandersnatch. He would hand it over at the door.
Cid smiled fondly as he saw Vincent go back for Domino. He had to admit he was quite fond of the thing as well. He straightened his suit, smoothed his slacks, and tried to feel as proper as he was sure he was supposed to look. No matter what Vincent said, this wasn’t him. Hats weren’t him. But he figured that if Vincent asked him to dress as a pink moogle, he would probably do it.
On their way down the hall, Vincent leaning heavily on his cane and walking painfully slowly, they ran into Dr. Bugenhagen. Vincent nodded. “Doctor.”
“Remember your appointment, Mr. Valentine, and I’m going to reiterate my severe reluctance and displeasure at releasing you,” Dr. Bugenhagen said flatly.
“Duly noted, doctor, and I shan’t forget my appointment,” Vincent said diplomatically.
“I’ve sent oxygen back with Mr. Tseng, here. Use it. And I’ll see you in two weeks. Please do try and take it easy,” Dr. Bugenhagen huffed.
Vincent nodded, and with Tseng and Cid in tow finished his agonizing travel to the lobby of the hospital where Tseng had informed him the cars were waiting for them. Them had thrown Vincent a moment until he realized that all of the others were waiting for them. Verdot, Rude and Reno were dressed similarly to Tseng and they all looked tense an anxious. “Relax, gentlemen,” Vincent said, approaching them. He gave them all a wan smile. “Let’s just get to the vehicles, shall we?”
The three nodded and Reno and Rude took positions in front of him, Tseng was to Vincent’s left and Cid to his right with Verdot bringing up the rear. Taking a deep breath, Vincent handed Tseng the bandersnatch, which the Wutaian discreetly tucked into the bag as the entourage exited the hospital. Vincent didn’t want to display any weakness, so he forced himself to stand up straight and proud, his shoulders back and his chin up. Pain sliced through his chest immediately, and he had to stop a moment for fear of passing out, but he got himself under control quickly. As the hospital doors swished open, they were met by a barrage of flashes, television cameras and questions.
“Mr. Valentine, is it true you were shot by Rufus ShinRa…?”
“Mr. Valentine, are we correct in hearing that you inherited the entire ShinRa fortune…?”
“Mr. Valentine, do you know who murdered Rufus ShinRa…?”
“Mr. Valentine, is it true you killed Rufus ShinRa…?”
“Mr. Valentine, who is your new man…?”
“Mr. Valentine...”
“Please, Mr. Valentine, just a moment of your time…!”
As Rude and Reno gently pushed their way through the crowd, Vincent stopped and raised his hand and immediately all chatter ceased, but the flashbulbs continued to snap and flash. “Please, everyone,” Vincent said, and he had no idea how he managed to make his voice sound so strong when every syllable felt like it shredded his throat. “I’ll be glad to answer each and every one of your questions, but now is not the time to do so. I have personal business to attend to, but I have every intention of holding a brief press conference when I have had a chance to see to the wellbeing of ShinRa Pharmaceuticals. I will let you all know the date and time, that is all. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Like clockwork, the questions began again, but Vincent was completely focused upon making it the waiting car, hand gripping his cane so hard his fingers hurt. With the help of the others bulldozing a path, he made it. Once he was safely in the vehicle and behind deeply tinted windows with Cid next to him, Verdot and Tseng driving and in the front passenger seat, respectively, he collapsed back into the seat and struggled to breathe. He felt the coppery tang of blood, and he fought a brief moment of panic. His breaths came in short wheezing pants until he could get it under control, and he felt light headed. Blindly, he sought out Cid’s hand and held on.
The crowd seemed to stretch on forever. Cid didn't think he'd ever seen so many people in one place except at parties or concerts he'd had to patrol. Cameras and microphones jutted out from every direction, and he could almost feel Vincent being smothered bit by bit. Somehow they made it to the car, and the way Vincent was breathing had Cid immediately seeking out the oxygen. He squeezed back when Vincent squeezed his hand, and as they drove away -and the crowd was very reluctant to part for the moving vehicle- Cid decided that anyone who envied Vincent was a fool.