Midgar Burning Chapter 58
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 .
Note as of 12/03/2017 - We're still here, editing chapters as we find time to do them, and we fully understand that there might not be anyone left to read them. Our decision still stands to finish this thing, so... once more unto the breach! ^.^
Chapter 58
Grateful as he listened to Tseng’s monologue of agreement, Cid looked at Vincent and watched his reaction sadly. A man like Vincent couldn’t live like this, and shouldn’t have to. He’d finally gotten out from under all those who would have him call them “master,” only to be handed over to his own body, which was only more restricting and more punishing. Not an existence Cid envied, and surely not one he would ever wish on Vincent. Nodding, Cid waited until Tseng had gone to turn to Vincent. He held out both his hands and said, “Back in bed with ya. An’ I know y’don’t like it, s’don’t look at me like that. S’my job t’take care of ya, just like it’s yours t’take care o’ me when I need it.”
Still upset by having all control wrested from him, Vincent accepted Cid’s hand up silently. Gripping his cane with white knuckles in one hand and the thick manila folder clutched under his other arm, he did as he was told. At least he still had his work. The probate papers needed to be gone over and signed. There were so many legal documents that needed to be reviewed, signed and dated, he really had more than enough to keep himself busy this weekend. Obediently, he sat back down in bed, stuffed his pillows up against the headboard, placed the mask over his face after switching the regulator on, and leaned back against his makeshift backrest. Propping the folder up against his bent knees, he got to work.
Cid followed and curled up beside him on the bed, certain that Vincent didn’t even notice Cid’s head resting on his shoulder. A pen had fallen, unnoticed, from the folder, and Cid stared at it a few moments before realizing that those signature lines on the paper he couldn’t even pretend to read properly would need to be signed. He reached over and grabbed it, lifting it a few inches above Vincent’s knees. “Missin’ somethin’?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
Without removing his eyes from the current packet of papers he was studying he reached up and snatched the pen from Cid’s hand. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind the oxygen mask.
Cid nodded and replaced his head on Vincent’s shoulder, tugging the blanket closer around them. “Thank you,” he answered, “fer not fightin’ any more’n that. Just fer that, th’next time I have s’much as a cough, you c’n make me stay in bed all day an’ drink chicken soup, a’ right?”
“I’ll remember you said that,” Vincent grumbled. He gritted his teeth. What a good boy he was! In a burst of frustrated rage, he snapped the folder shut and flung it across the room. It hit the wall and burst open in an explosion of paper. His eyes stung and his chest tried to heave as felt himself catapulted back to his years of entrapment by Rufus.
“Wh- Vincent,” Cid said, surprised, as he lifted his head and looked at the other man. His heart began to sink. He’d said something wrong again, like he always did. Of course he had. “What’s th’matter, sugar?” he asked softly, needing to know so he wouldn’t do it again.
Vincent shook as he balled his hands into fists. “I once ruled this city in an iron fist. I was feared as people whispered Sephiroth’s name. I commanded respect and was obeyed without question. But I always did as I was told. What Rufus wanted I got for him, did for him,” he said through clenched teeth. “I thought I was going to get out from under that and here I am right back where I started.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Only it’s worse… it’s coming from those I care about. And it’s only going to get worse.”
That hurt. “So I’m no better than him? Is that what y’re sayin’?” He stood, picked up the folder, and tossed it back onto the bed within reach. “I really never expected t’hear that from you again, Vincent. Not after ever’thin’.” Standing in the doorway, he ran a hand over his face. “I think I’m gonna go take a walk. You c’n do whatever th’hell ya want, since y’don’t want me t’care.” Dimly, he knew Vincent hadn’t meant to imply anything of the sort, but just the same… maybe he’d go find the gym. He could use a way to work off the aggression that had just surged forward. Without a single thought to the fact that he was walking outside in his boxers, or that he didn’t have a key to get back in, Cid stepped into the hallway and closed the door to Vincent’s rooms behind him.
“Yeah, well, you don’t understand, Cid,” Vincent half growled, half sobbed to his empty room. “You never will.” He ripped off the mask and threw it too, followed by a sweeping shove at his nightstand sending its contents onto the floor. His picture frame hit the wall and the glass in it splintered, and there was a shrill alarm from the regulator as its wiring was ripped loose. Struggling to his feet, Vincent staggered to his kitchenette. Vision blurring, he rummaged in his cabinet until he found a tumbler and then dug around in his bar until he found the bottle of vodka that was there. He tried to pour the alcohol, but his hands were shaking too much. With a snarl, he threw the tumbler against the wall, causing it to shatter. This caused him to begin coughing, which in turn ruptured some capillaries in his lungs. Wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve, he then took the bottle by its neck and retreated onto his balcony where he slid down the glass and metal wall to sit heavily. He twisted off the cap and took several large gulps, wincing as the liquor burned its way to his stomach. He didn’t care. He was ashamed, embarrassed, frustrated, hurt… he wiped another small trickle of blood away and took another drink.
As soon as he got halfway down the hall, Cid paused and turned around, conflicted. Running from Vincent, or from talking to Vincent, wasn’t helping either of them. But…was he helping by being there? He certainly didn’t feel like he was, but something else said yes. Tseng said that Vincent had said he loved Cid, but Vincent had said… Cid closed his eyes against that. Vincent was probably just upset; he couldn’t have meant…
He walked back to the door, determined to fix this somehow. Or maybe not fix it, but set it on the way to being fixed. He hadn’t locked it behind him, so maybe… He tried the door, and much to his relief, it opened. “Vincent?” he called softly, and there was no answer, just as he’d expected. He checked the bedroom and found the monitor still beeping in alarm- it looked as if they’d have to go after a new one. The bathroom was open; no Vincent there. The living room, the kitchen…both empty, but there was some mess near the bar. Shattered glass, in fact, some clear liquid, and a bit of blood. For all the amazing things Vincent could do, he could also be so destructive in such a short period of time…this, then, was what he’d tried to warn Cid about.
It didn’t change anything, and Cid knew that it never would. He’d made note of the balcony earlier, and that was the only place left to look. If he didn’t find Vincent there, then he’d surely find him several floors below it, and the very thought of that made him want to vomit.
He stepped out onto the balcony and saw Vincent, and his face fell but he didn’t make a sound. Slowly, Cid walked toward him and sat down a few inches away, still close enough to give comfort if it was wanted. “Help me understand,” he said simply, blue eyes taking in the form of the unbreakable broken man beside him.
Vincent sat, listlessly looking out over the dirty city that he called his kingdom and remained silent. What do you care? As long as you get what you want, who cares if it’s broken. Just keep patching it back together and wait for it to break again. Use it until it’s all gone…He took another drink from the Vodka bottle, and a thin trickle of the stuff ran over his chin. He left it. Without looking at Cid he held out the bottle to him. “What’s the greatest thing you’ve ever wanted?”
With only a little hesitance, Cid took the bottle and gasped as the large gulp he’d taken made its way down. He handed it back, thinking. He had no idea where the question was going, or what the answer was. “I dunno,” he said, frowning slightly. “I really don’t.”
“A wise answer, if a simple one. I envy you,” Vincent said softly, taking the bottle back and still looking out over the city. He took several more long swallows of the vodka, no longer feeling the burn, now that his throat was numb. “I once thought that my greatest wish was to achieve a high ranking position, to bring honor and wealth to my family, so I did as my father desired and became educated. I went to the academy and received high marks. Then, when I met her, my greatest wish was to make her happy. There was nothing more beautiful than her smile, so that was what I strove to do. Now?” He sighed and looked down at the bottle in his hand, then over to Cid and his eyes were infinitely sad. “Now, my greatest wish is to simply be in control of my own life. To live it as I wish. But to be in such control means to be completely alone, and that goes against a human’s very nature. Who wishes to be completely alone? Who can survive such crushing silence?” He sighed again and leaned his head back against the cold building behind him. “And so I must relinquish my freedom once again. I wonder, Cid. Can you find happiness without freedom?”
Cid frowned again, heart wrenching at those eyes that held so much more sadness than they ever should have seen. “Bein’ with someone don’t make ya any less free.” If it did, at least, he hadn’t noticed. “Ya get a whole new kinda freedom, really, when y’re with someone who loves ya. B’cause, nobody except somebody who loves ya’ll except ya no matter what. So y’re free t’be yerself without bein’ by yerself.” He shrugged. “Least that’s th’way I see it. If you’d rather say that it’s losin’ freedom, then yes, it’s possible t’find happiness that way.”
“But is it worth the price?” Vincent whispered. “If you give your whole heart to someone, live for them, hope and dream for them, and then they leave you…” He made a fist with the hand not holding the vodka bottle. “Is it worth that kind of pain?” He stared at his lap, his thin, too-pale legs, and the fine black hairs on them. “Or is it better having hollow, empty relationships; living only for the momentary, fleeting pleasure of mere minutes? To give up your heart is to give over control to that other person. It’s truly frightening being that out of control. To know that with a gesture, a word, even spoken in a fit of temper with no weight behind it can so hurt the other so much.” He flushed and his fist shook while he continued to look down at his lap. “The reflection of disappointment from the eyes of the one who controls you hurts so much more than the spoken words, ‘I hate you’. How can one be free to be themselves with the fear of that judgement always there?” He ended with the whispered, “How can you be free when you live to give the other everything they want? And be everything they expect?”
Confused, Cid looked at him. “Well, that answers itself, don’t it? If everything you want is to give them what they want, then y’ve got it made. Like, me, I…all I want anymore is fer you t’have what you want, an’ t’be safe when that’s possible. I don’t feel trapped. I feel...I feel so grateful that I have somethin’ t’live for.” It was true, though, that the smallest word or gesture of disappointment or anger from Vincent could send Cid into a state of hurt and regret the way nothing else could. “An’ when we hurt each other so easy like that, I try real hard t’be glad that I’m allowed t’feel so much fer someone. It’s better than feelin’ it fer nothin’.”
Vincent nodded and downed a third of the remaining vodka in one go. Cid still did not understand, and he didn’t know why he kept trying to make him. But it was such an innocently forgivable fault, and besides would he really want Cid to understand? How selfish of him to wish that kind of pain on such a pure heart; selfish and cruel. He could pretend to be untroubled, plaster a smile on his face when appropriate, and tell the necessary white lies to keep Cid happy. After all, hadn’t he been doing it for the last three years now? But that was just it. He didn’t want to. Cid deserved so much better than that. And he was trapped. He coughed softly and took another drink, wiping the liquid that trickled from the corner of his mouth, completely unaware that it was blood and not vodka. “You should go inside, it’s cold out here. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Shit,” Cid said, eyes wandering back to Vincent after a moment of staring into the distance. Muttering, “’Don’t want ya t’get sick,’ says th’guy with blood runnin’ outta ‘is mouth,” Cid stood and went inside just as Vincent had said. He didn’t have any more fight left in him today.
“Still glad I didn’t ask you to let me go?” Vincent muttered to the closed door. He drained the vodka bottle and tossed it carelessly over the railing. But he regretted everything he’d said, everything he had done and the way he had behaved. It was truly shameful and it made the despair he felt now hurt even more. He wanted something else to drink, wanted it so badly that he twitched, but he just didn’t have the strength to get up. And he didn’t want to go back inside and face Cid and the hurt and accusation, the disappointment he knew he would see in those beautiful blue eyes, and that made him want to weep. Shrugging out of his robe and shivering in the sudden dirty updraft from the street below, Vincent lay down, facing the wall with his robe as a pillow. It was funny how it took him back to his days of being an experiment and living in that tiny, windowless room. The only difference now was that he had a view, but no vent and no one to hear his voice.
Cid was back to square one. He still didn’t know how to help. Vincent wasn’t going to come back inside, and Cid wasn’t going to try to tell him to do so. But it was cold out there, and Vincent’s lungs were already a mess. He’d develop a cough if he kept breathing all that dry air…and not even getting all of it. Cid wandered back into the bedroom to check on the machine, but he doubted it would be of any use. His eyes lit on the blanket he’d walked out wearing earlier. That was warm… He grabbed it and headed out to the balcony once more, stopping to grab a towel for Vincent and a bottle of water for each of them. If Vincent allowed him to stay, they’d probably be out there for a long time.
He was not amused to see Vincent lying there in nothing but his boxers. On a warm day, that would be acceptable and welcome, but today…Sighing, Cid stepped through the door and set down the bottles. He handed the towel to Vincent, then sat down next to him. He sighed again, mentally groaning. The blanket wouldn’t cover them both this way, and Cid had no desire to sit out in the cold and watch Vincent be warm. Eventually, he sucked it up and stretched out next to Vincent, shuddering at the cold surface against his back. He draped the blanket over both of them carefully and snuggled against Vincent’s body, since it at least offered some warmth. He didn’t say anything, just placed his head against Vincent’s shoulder once more and waited.
Vincent’s eyes popped open when he felt Cid lie down behind him. His eyes burned when he felt Cid’s cheek against his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he rasped, disbelief and wild, desperate hope filling his voice.
Cid raised an eyebrow. He could only find one way to answer that. “Layin’ on th’ground. What are you doin’?” he asked.
Vincent snorted, but grinned. “What a coincidence. That’s what I’m doing as well, but I’d be willing to bet that you are not wallowing in childish self-pity.” He said softly, pressing back into Cid’s warmth. He couldn’t believe that Cid still wished to be around him after what he had said, and his miserable display of weakness. He was tense as he waited for Cid to get up and leave.
Draping an arm over Vincent’s waist and snuggling closer, Cid chuckled and shook his head. “Maybe not, but prob’ly if I stay here y’re gonna get it all over me.” He squeezed gently. “Nothin’ a good hot shower won’t fix.” He didn’t care, really; Vincent deserved to do a bit of wallowing. The only thing wrong with it was that Cid couldn’t fix it.
Vincent grabbed the hand of the arm that was around his waist and squeezed. “I’m sorry I was weak,” he whispered. It was so very hard to say that, but once it was out it relieved some of the tension that had held him so rigid, and Cid’s warm tone dispelled the rest of it. Swallowing, he rolled over to face Cid and wrapped his own arm around the blond. He buried his face in Cid’s neck and he shook a little as the rest of his apology came out. “And I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Cid made a small sound of surprise when Vincent rolled over, and held him closer when the other man pressed against him. “Don’t worry about apologizin’ t’me,” he whispered, “an’ I’ll always f’rgive ya, so don’t worry ‘bout that neither.” He took a deep breath that shook on the exhale. “’Sides, I hurt you just as bad, ‘n’ I’m sorry fer that, an’ fer not bein’ strong enough not t’walk out earlier. All in all, I’d say we’re even, yeah?”
Not even close, Cid. There’s so much more for me to atone for… so much. “Agreed,” Vincent murmured. He laid in Cid’s arms for a while in silence, just listening to the man breathe. Finally he said mournfully, “I don’t want to go back in there, I made such a dreadful mess.”
“Well.” Cid wasn’t going to deny that quite a bit of cleaning up would need to be done, but he didn’t want Vincent to worry over it. “You need t’be restin’ anyway, so don’t worry ‘bout that. ‘Sides, we don’t hafta go back in ‘til y’want to. Or ‘til y’can’t breathe. I think y’re gonna hafta put in fer a new machine, by th’way.”
Vincent winced. “Figures,” he muttered and snuggled in closer to Cid. “Did I ever mention I have a bit of a violent temper?”
Cid chuckled and held more tightly. “Oh, I’m sure y’did. Just one o’ those things I chose not t’listen to then an’ am choosin’ not t’care much about now.” He smiled and sighed happily. “I mean it, Vincent, when things like this happen b’tween us…once I cool down, I remember t’be glad, ‘cause it means y’trust me enough t’let me see that side of ya. I mean, if y’wanted t’keep me at a distance, y’d put up that cold, emotionless mask y’always wear.” He knew he had probably said too much, but he’d felt that he needed to say it all anyway.
“That means a lot to me, Cid.” Vincent murmured, tucking his face into Cid’s neck and inhaling deeply, well, as deeply as he could anyway. He loved the way Cid smelled. It comforted him like little else managed to do these days. “That mask is very heavy and gets harder and harder to take off.” He rolled onto his back, pulling Cid over on top of him. The metal of the balcony was cold on the bare skin of his back, but it paled in comparison to the heat coming off of Cid. He then pulled Cid’s mouth down onto his. He took his time; kissing Cid and probing lazily with his tongue into the warm cavern of Cid’s mouth, sliding it in a velvety rasp over the cop’s… his lover’s. Lover. Such a funny word when he thought of two men together in passion, but it was a word he could no longer deny. He could feel the soft bulge of Cid’s sex pressing against his thigh and he shivered, reaching one hand around to grip a firm buttock. “Thank you for not leaving me,” he said when they broke apart. “It’s so cold out here.” He wasn’t talking about the balcony, but he had a feeling Cid would know what he was talking about anyway.
Cid had been confused at first when Vincent had tugged them closer, but he had nothing to complain about as Vincent kissed him. Never mind that the mood had suddenly changed from melancholy to…this, whatever it was; Vincent was kissing him, and Cid could feel the hunger even though the movements were slow. “I wouldn’t leave ya,” he whispered, nuzzling Vincent’s neck. “An’ I know it’s cold. That’s why m’here, t’warm ya up.” A bit of a whine worked itself into his voice in the last few words. Vincent’s hand was still on him, keeping his body close, and it felt good even after so much contact with the other man over the past several days. Cid kissed him again, just as slowly and knowing that the deliberation of the gesture made it all the more convincing and worthwhile.
And so the two men remained that way, kissing and losing track of time. They only existed for each other in those moments, taking solace and comfort in the presence of the other. Hands explored and roamed over familiar flesh and various words of endearment were murmured. When they finally came to a stop it was well towards the noon-hour. Vincent’s expression was a dreamy one as he lay half over Cid, having switched positions with the other several times during their balcony activities. The corners of his mouth curved up in a small smile. “You must be getting hungry,” he said softly, tracing a finger over and around one of Cid’s nipples. The hair on Cid’s chest tickled his cheek and caused his grin to widen. He rubbed his cheek against Cid’s chest, sighing contentedly.
His face was still flushed, and his skin still tingled with every movement of Vincent’s fingers. “I’m all right,” he answered quietly. “Rather be out here anyway.” That much was true; he knew that once they went inside, the perfect peace between them would break, and Vincent would likely go back to worrying over the damage he’d caused. No; better by far to stay here and keep loving each other every way they could. “Y’kiss me again?” he asked hopefully, strong hand still rubbing over Vincent’s back.
Vincent smiled and lifted himself up onto his arms to do as Cid had asked. He took his time again, savoring the feel of a long, drawn-out kiss before he sat up. He needed to, he was getting stiff. He sat touching Cid’s side with a thigh as he crossed his legs, and petted the hair on Cid’s chest, running his fingers through it alternating with smoothing the dark gold patch. Absurdly, he thought of Cid’s pubic hair and he shook his head a little to clear it, grinning lopsidedly. He had such a sick mind. He let his eyes wander over Cid’s chest and shoulders. Such golden skin. Even with the imperfections it was perfect. “Did you know I had tried to escape once?” Being out here on the balcony had reminded him of that. “Their method of punishment was a bit… ineffective.”
Wary, Cid shook his head. “No, I don’t think y’mentioned that.” He didn’t want to talk about sad things now, not when they were just enjoying each other’s presence, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance to have Vincent speak about his past. The more talking he did, the less wondering and worrying Cid had to do. He was tempted to sit up as well, but enjoyed Vincent’s hands on his chest too much to move away from the touch.
Vincent chuckled. “It’s nothing much.” His hand then moved up to trace fingers over Cid’s face. It was a face that had come to mean so much to him. “It failed, obviously, and as punishment they took away my bed and forced me to sleep on the floor. They would have beaten me, but by that point I was Hojo’s little pet project and he wouldn’t allow me to be hurt,” he ended wryly. “They had forgotten that I had spent the better part of a month sleeping in concrete gutters, so the loss of an already uncomfortable bed was nothing to me.” He picked up Cid’s hand and brought it into his lap. He then looked up at Cid shyly through his hair. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, but it’s surprisingly easy to talk to you. And it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought I would. Thank you for that.”
Cid shook his head. “Nah, s’all right. I don’t mind, y’know that. S’just that I don’t like thinkin’ that y’had t’go through any o’ that.” He rubbed Vincent’s thigh for a moment, then shifted so that his head was in Vincent’s lap. His arms wrapped around Vincent’s hips. “Think I am gonna head on inside. F’you cook ‘r call somethin’ in, I’ll clean up th’mess.”
Vincent had shrugged at the mention of having to endure what he had. “It’s in the past now, nothing I can do about it. Besides,” he grinned, “whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, right?” His grin faded, though, at the mention of the mess he had made. “I’ll be happy to fix you something, but you don’t need to clean up my mess. I’ll take care of that… somehow.” He pet Cid’s hair as his brain tried to figure out just how he was going to accomplish that particular feat. Suddenly he thought of something; something more manageable for his current state. “What would you like to eat?”
No matter that it was in the past; it still hurt, at least for Cid. He wouldn’t dwell on it, though, especially not while Vincent was eager to talk of other things. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the hand stroking his hair. “No, it’s my mess. I c’n take care o’ that.” His stomach rumbled a bit, and Cid sighed and relased Vincent, sitting up slowly. “Don’t really know what I wanna eat. Whatever y’scrounge up is good enough fer me.”
Vincent blinked down at Cid in surprised confusion. “How in Gaia’s name is it your mess? I was the one who threw a temper-tantrum. No, you’ll leave it. Sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”
“Well, it wouldn’t’a happened if I hadn’t walked out,” he asserted, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “An’ it won’t take me but a few minutes, an’ then I’ll come sit with ya.” He stood and held out both hands to Vincent.
Vincent studied Cid’s face, the firm set to the man’s jaw and the look in the blue eyes that told him that any argument he gave would be lost, and nodded. He then reached up as best he could, took Cid’s hands and braced his arms to keep from pulling on his chest, and let he man heft him to his feet. Cid bent over and picked up his wadded up robe, shook it out and put it over Vincent’s shoulders, helping him into it then motioned for Vincent to re-enter the apartment first. With a small, not unpleasant sigh, Vincent headed for the kitchen and began rummaging in his refrigerator for… something, to fix for Cid.
Meanwhile, Cid walked to where the shattered glass and spilled liquid were still waiting to be cleared. He wandered into the kitchen briefly to find a mop and bucket. He found both in the small closet off to the right and headed back to the mess. He picked up the largest of the chunks of glass first, then took the mop to the spill. Everything went well for a while, and then one of the smaller pieces of glass lodged itself in his foot. Cursing quietly, Cid backed off a bit to finish cleaning the rest. He’d gathered the rest of the glass shards through use of the mop, and they were no problem now to add to the pile of the larger ones. He would come back in a few minutes with a damp cloth to make sure the sticky quality left the floor, and then he would tend to his foot. After depositing the remains of the tumbler in the trash, going back with the cloth, and washing his hands, Cid took a seat at the kitchen table. He squinted at the bottom of his foot, looking for the glass, but didn’t see anything. Shrugging, he sat back and watched Vincent work.
What could he fix? He had several different kinds of vegetables, some chicken. Vincent snapped his fingers. That’s it! With more energy, he began pulling out the vegetables, and the chicken. Next he turned on his stove and pulled out a large skillet. He ran some water into the bottom of it and placed it on the stove to heat, and then went for a marinade. He returned to the sink and began washing the vegetables. That completed, he pulled out a knife and cutting board and began slicing the peppers and onions. He stopped after the vegetables were prepared and tossed into the skillet to rub his chest. It was beginning to hurt with all of the movement he was doing, but he was determined to fix Cid a decent meal. Particularly after all of the grief he had caused the poor man. Next came the chicken. After carefully washing the breasts, he began cutting them into thin slices and added them to the vegetables that were beginning to simmer. He then moved to the stove after locating a spatula, and added the marinade. That done, he leaned heavily against the stove and rubbed his chest again, wheezing a little. It wouldn’t take long for the food to cook. Now all he had to do was make sure the chicken was cooked all the way through without losing any of its moisture. He filled a glass with water so he could keep the food wet as it cooked.
Cid frowned at the way Vincent kept stopping to rub his chest. He would have offered to take over, but he knew exactly how that would end. It would end in them ordering pizza, and even Cid was tired of that. Something had to be done, though, about that pain. The surgery was a full two weeks away, and that had to come first. Midgar’s air wasn’t helping. Cid knew that. He agreed with Tseng that the surgery needed to be bumped up. Vincent’s body would have recovered already from the first one, so the space between was doing nothing but harming him.
That, though, was a conversation for another day. After finally locating the offending bit of glass and plucking it out with a sound of triumph, Cid stood and washed his hands again and then stood behind Vincent and put his arms about the robe-clad waist. Vincent’s recently developed slouch made it easier for Cid to rest his head on the other’s shoulder, and he did that now, nuzzling at the pale neck. “We need t’get outta here,” he stated bluntly, figuring that determination would earn him more points than vague suggestion. “I know y’have things t’do here an’ y’can’t be gone long, but once y’get the papers an’ all signed, you c’n do whatever y’want so long as business goes on. An’ yer boys c’n handle that for a little while- we’ve seen ‘em do it already. But this is killin’ ya, Vincent. Restin’ here ain’t no kind o’ rest, ‘cause y’re still surrounded by things y’gotta do an all that.”
Taking a deep breath, Cid continued. “Y’wanted t’take me t’see the ocean, right? Why don’t we do that? After yer surgery, we’ll take a couple days, maybe a week. Hell, Vincent, I gotta get outta here. It felt so good t’drive outta Midgar the other day…” He trailed off and shook his head. “An’ I won’t wanna come back this time either, but I will, ‘cause I know I hafta. So call Dr. B, move up yer surgery t’sometime durin’ th’week. An’ then on that Friday, we’ll go see yer Cloud an’ then we’ll hit th’coast, just me an’ you. Leave all this b’hind fer a little while an’ just…be with each other. No rules fer us over there. I think we need that. Just…a couple days, maybe a week?” Grinning, he added in a whisper, “Think about how dark m’skin’ll get in th’sun. I know y’like that.”
Vincent let loose a soft moan of longing as he leaned back into Cid. Unbidden his body stirred as he felt Cid press up behind him. The hand not holding the metal spatula found its way to one of Cid’s arms and he turned his head to rest his lips against the man’s temple. It sounded so wonderful. A place where they could go and no one would recognize him. No more secret meetings, no more hiding from the authorities, complete and total anonymity. He and Cid could walk down the street holding hands; eat together at restaurants, and other more intimate activities. But he couldn’t, could he? He had too much that he had to see to here. ShinRa’s power and responsibilities had to be transferred onto his shoulders. There were meetings with other crime bosses, his alliance with the Kisaragis and the Syndicate to juggle, the authorities to keep an eye on, his debt to Sephiroth to pay off, and finally Genesis Rhapsodos. He couldn’t just up and leave with so much to do. But… hadn’t Tseng proven that he and the others could handle things for that long? And it would only be a week. He’d be back to keep giving Cloud his mako injections, and couldn’t he find someone to take over running the administrative duties of ShinRa Pharmeseuticals? All he would have to do was make his presence known to those parties of interest, draw the lines and let his men enforce the new law. And besides, no one had to know that he was taking a vacation. He could just have Tseng say that he was travelling on business and investigating new investment possibilities. His heart sped up as excitement and anxiety raced through the blood in the veins at the prospect of leaving Midgar. It wouldn’t be forever, but he could pretend. Drop the collar and shackles of his life and feel freedom, even if it was only a temporary freedom. His hand tightened on Cid’s arm and he whispered in a shaky voice, “Take me away. Take me away, Cid. I’ll let you set it up while I take care of business here. We’ll go see the ocean together.”
“I’ll take you,” he whispered. “I’ll take ya there, an’ I’ll make sure we get ever’thin’ out of it we can.” He wouldn’t want to come back. He already didn’t want to come back, and they hadn’t even made plans yet. “We’ll spend a week. I’ll set it up. Get ourselves a cabin there on an empty stretch o’ beach, just relax.” His hands roved over Vincent’s chest, moving under the robe. “Make love to ya there, while nobody’s watchin’ an’ nobody cares. Just me an’ you.” He sighed and kissed Vincent’s neck. The idea sounded far too appealing to put off any longer. “I’ll call t’day, dammit.”
“Careful, Cid,” Vincent gasped, longing to stretch up straighter so that he could arch into Cid’s touch, but restricted from doing so by the nagging pain in his chest. “You’re going to sound desperate in a moment.” Well, it was something they could work on for the remainder of the weekend: he could wade through the legal documents signing ShinRa over to him and Cid could plan a vacation. In his opinion, Cid got the clean end of the stick. His hand shaking a little, he returned to stirring and flipping Cid’s lunch. “Would you like rice with this?” he asked, voice mirroring his trembling hand.
“Maybe I am desperate,” he whispered, arms tightening around Vincent before relaxing and moving away from the slender body entirely. He had no idea how to plan a vacation. He figured he would just call a travel agency and have them set it up. Or Tseng. Tseng did stuff. “Nah, I prob’ly won’t eat rice,” he answered, finally sparing a moment to pay attention to what was being cooked. “Looks good, though.”
“Thank you,” Vincent murmured, flipping the contents of the skillet with practiced ease. “Please go sit and I’ll bring you a plate, it’s almost ready.” He coughed softly, keeping his mouth closed. “What would you like to drink? I have water, or I could make you some tea. Everything else is alcoholic except for the coffee.”
Reluctantly, Cid returned to the table and sat. “Water’s fine,” he answered, not wanting to put Vincent through more trouble. “C’d at least let me take care o’ drinks an’ set th’table, y’know. I ain’t s’much a guest as a permanent fixture.”
While he continued to face the stove, Vincent grinned. He then reached up and over to turn the stove off, saying, “Oh really. If you’re a permanent fixture, do you come with a warranty?” He looked over his shoulder and winked lazily before retrieving a plate, placing it next to the stove and waiting the last several minutes for the meat to finish cooking all the way through. He turned around and leaned forward onto his arms on the small island, sighing in temporary relief. “I don’t mind serving you, permanent fixture or not, it’s my pleasure.” He looked at Cid for a while longer, just letting his eyes roam openly over the toned chest and lower. His eyebrow arched and he teased. “You may need to go and visit the gym, Highwind. You’ve been sleeping too much, and it’s starting to show a little.” His tone was light but warm, and a grin tugged his lips upward.
“Warranty ran out already, sorry. I think y’re stuck with what y’got.” He grinned back at Vincent and watched him as he was being watched. The hint of appreciation in the other’s eyes was warming, and it took Cid a moment to respond to the words in the face of that gaze. He raised an eyebrow. “Gettin’ furry again, too,” he added, pointing to the hair on his face that could no longer safely be called stubble. “Ain’t my fault, though. M’your permanent fixture, so’m your responsibility. Proper upkeep an’ whatnot.” Just the same, he would be visiting the gym. Part of him missed doing that, but he figured that he missed the motivation to do it even more. “Maybe you should come watch. You ain’t seen very much in th’way o’ excitin’ things lately if y’think I’m worth starin’ at when I’m fat.”
Vincent laughed at that. He couldn’t help it. Something about that struck him as funny and he was still chuckling as he turned around and removed the food from the stove. Carefully he placed a good portion of it on Cid’s plate, grabbed a fork, knife, and napkin and made his slow way to the table to put the food in front of Cid. “Fat, thin, weak or strong, you’ll always be perfect to me, Cid.” He murmured and placed a chaste kiss to the top of the man’s head. “Now eat up, but don’t burn your mouth.” He cautioned with another wink and hobbled over to fill a glass with filtered water from his fridge. He placed it down in front of Cid as well before taking a seat across the small table from the blond, his chin propped in his hand.
Cid grinned as Vincent laughed, enjoying the sound. The grin turned to a small, serious smile when the words reached him. After nodding at the caution about hot food and taking a drink of the cool water, he met Vincent’s eyes. He had something to say, and he didn’t want the chance to be gone before he managed it. “Do y’remember th’first night when y’came t’my apartment? I said I was lonely all the time, ‘r somethin’ like that? I just…I don’t think I ever told ya that I ain’t been lonely in a long time, since you. Thought y’oughta know,” he finished in nearly a whisper, holding the other’s gaze for a little longer before taking his first bite of the meal.
Vincent remained silent, moved. What did one say to that? What words could ever be appropriate? “I am glad,” he whispered, reaching across the table for Cid’s hand, a gentle smile on his face.
“M’glad y’re glad,” he responded, proper grin back in place as he squeezed Vincent’s hand. He hoped that someday he could make Vincent feel the same way, but for now Cid was content with what they had. He continued holding the other man’s hand as he began to shovel food regularly into his mouth. “It is good,” he said once between bites. “Y’ain’t gonna have any?”
Vincent’s smile broadened and he shook his head slightly. “No, I’m not hungry.” He squeezed Cid’s hand. It felt good to have his cooking enjoyed. Strange how he had never noticed it before; then again, he had never cooked for anyone before and he found himself blushing. “So,” he cleared his throat softly. “Have you any specific place in mind for our rather… hastily-planned vacation?”
A blushing Vincent was almost as good as a laughing Vincent, and Cid committed the sight to memory. “Well...no, not really. I mean, I wanna see someplace completely diff’rent from here, an’ we wanna see the ocean. I w’s thinkin’ prob’ly leavin’ Midgar entirely, th’continent, I mean, ‘cause from what I hear most of it’s the same ‘til ya get across. We c’n take a boat, so y’c’n show me what it is that appeals to ya so much about ‘em.” He shrugged and placed his fork gently on his mostly empty plate. “Costa del Sol’s the main tourist destination, so prob’ly too crowded fer our tastes. But maybe someplace like it? It looks nice, from what I’ve seen."
Vincent cocked his head, thoughtful for a moment before he nodded hesitantly. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Leaving the continent would be good. I don’t have many contacts across the Junon Strait, so the chance of me being recognized would be slim to none. It would be a welcome change.” He pulled his hand back from Cid’s grip and straightened in his seat. “But there is much to be done before I go anywhere.” He sighed.
“Well, there’s nothin’ t’be done about that,” Cid conceded, nodding. “’Cept to get it done quick as ya can an’ keep remindin’ yerself what’s gonna come of it, I guess.” Cid had an entirely different problem. He had no idea what he was doing in terms of planning, nor was his sense of geography very keen. Then there was the problem of packing and finding some way to occupy his time while Vincent was working. “I’ll just keep outta yer way. Hang out in th’gym so I got somethin’ worth showin’ off when we hit th’beach.” He grinned and reached for Vincent’s hand again. “You go get t’work, an’ I’ll call some places. I’ll letcha know when I think I found somethin’.”
“Good,” Vincent said softly, twining his fingers with Cid’s across the table briefly. The mention of “hitting the beach” had set off a tiny warning bell. He wasn’t exactly beach material, what with his eternally pale complexion and scars, but he would rather enjoy watching Cid show off that great golden body of his. Now that he thought about it, he really didn’t understand why Cid had remained single for so long. He was an extremely attractive man. Sure, he wasn’t exactly beautiful, certainly not in the conventional sense, but there was far more to true beauty than a pretty face, and he hadn’t been lying when he had said that Cid was perfect. His heart, his soul was gorgeous, and if he had to broach the subject of physical beauty, Cid held a certain ruggedness that never once called into question his masculinity. The hard planes of the man’s body, the rough angles of his face, even the tiny blemishes all added to his appeal. And he was loathe to admit it, but he was jealous of Cid a little. He had always been painfully aware of his “pretty face” and everything that had happened because of it, and he had always longed to be able hold the kind of muscle mass that Cid possessed.
Blinking suddenly, Vincent shook his head as he broke his somewhat dreamy stare. With a final squeeze of fingers, he withdrew his hand and struggled to his feet. “So chastened, I shall go and pick up my mess in the bedroom and begin working. Please, feel free to help yourself to the rest of the food and anything else you wish from the refrigerator.” He quirked his lips in a lopsided grin and began making his way to his bedroom, wondering vaguely where he had put his cane. He had to stop for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, breathing somewhat heavily to try and catch his breath and rubbing his chest again.
He then pushed himself off of it and took several steps into the bedroom, wincing at the littered flurry of papers. There was a crunch as he stepped on something, and he looked down. “Oh no,” he moaned softly. His picture frame. Using the bed, he somehow managed to lower himself to the floor and reached over to snag the broken frame. Drawing his knees up towards his chest, he leaned back against the bed and placed the broken frame against his legs, looking sadly at the one of him and Aiden. How different things would be now, if his son had lived. He would still be in Wutai, probably working for the emperor, or at the very least teaching. His son would have been old enough to begin being interested in girls right about now. With a sad smile, he traced the picture carefully with his fingertips. How happy he had been then! Look at my face. Even in my sorrow, such a smile, he thought. Would he ever be able to smile like that again, he wondered?
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 .
Note as of 12/03/2017 - We're still here, editing chapters as we find time to do them, and we fully understand that there might not be anyone left to read them. Our decision still stands to finish this thing, so... once more unto the breach! ^.^
Chapter 58
Grateful as he listened to Tseng’s monologue of agreement, Cid looked at Vincent and watched his reaction sadly. A man like Vincent couldn’t live like this, and shouldn’t have to. He’d finally gotten out from under all those who would have him call them “master,” only to be handed over to his own body, which was only more restricting and more punishing. Not an existence Cid envied, and surely not one he would ever wish on Vincent. Nodding, Cid waited until Tseng had gone to turn to Vincent. He held out both his hands and said, “Back in bed with ya. An’ I know y’don’t like it, s’don’t look at me like that. S’my job t’take care of ya, just like it’s yours t’take care o’ me when I need it.”
Still upset by having all control wrested from him, Vincent accepted Cid’s hand up silently. Gripping his cane with white knuckles in one hand and the thick manila folder clutched under his other arm, he did as he was told. At least he still had his work. The probate papers needed to be gone over and signed. There were so many legal documents that needed to be reviewed, signed and dated, he really had more than enough to keep himself busy this weekend. Obediently, he sat back down in bed, stuffed his pillows up against the headboard, placed the mask over his face after switching the regulator on, and leaned back against his makeshift backrest. Propping the folder up against his bent knees, he got to work.
Cid followed and curled up beside him on the bed, certain that Vincent didn’t even notice Cid’s head resting on his shoulder. A pen had fallen, unnoticed, from the folder, and Cid stared at it a few moments before realizing that those signature lines on the paper he couldn’t even pretend to read properly would need to be signed. He reached over and grabbed it, lifting it a few inches above Vincent’s knees. “Missin’ somethin’?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
Without removing his eyes from the current packet of papers he was studying he reached up and snatched the pen from Cid’s hand. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind the oxygen mask.
Cid nodded and replaced his head on Vincent’s shoulder, tugging the blanket closer around them. “Thank you,” he answered, “fer not fightin’ any more’n that. Just fer that, th’next time I have s’much as a cough, you c’n make me stay in bed all day an’ drink chicken soup, a’ right?”
“I’ll remember you said that,” Vincent grumbled. He gritted his teeth. What a good boy he was! In a burst of frustrated rage, he snapped the folder shut and flung it across the room. It hit the wall and burst open in an explosion of paper. His eyes stung and his chest tried to heave as felt himself catapulted back to his years of entrapment by Rufus.
“Wh- Vincent,” Cid said, surprised, as he lifted his head and looked at the other man. His heart began to sink. He’d said something wrong again, like he always did. Of course he had. “What’s th’matter, sugar?” he asked softly, needing to know so he wouldn’t do it again.
Vincent shook as he balled his hands into fists. “I once ruled this city in an iron fist. I was feared as people whispered Sephiroth’s name. I commanded respect and was obeyed without question. But I always did as I was told. What Rufus wanted I got for him, did for him,” he said through clenched teeth. “I thought I was going to get out from under that and here I am right back where I started.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Only it’s worse… it’s coming from those I care about. And it’s only going to get worse.”
That hurt. “So I’m no better than him? Is that what y’re sayin’?” He stood, picked up the folder, and tossed it back onto the bed within reach. “I really never expected t’hear that from you again, Vincent. Not after ever’thin’.” Standing in the doorway, he ran a hand over his face. “I think I’m gonna go take a walk. You c’n do whatever th’hell ya want, since y’don’t want me t’care.” Dimly, he knew Vincent hadn’t meant to imply anything of the sort, but just the same… maybe he’d go find the gym. He could use a way to work off the aggression that had just surged forward. Without a single thought to the fact that he was walking outside in his boxers, or that he didn’t have a key to get back in, Cid stepped into the hallway and closed the door to Vincent’s rooms behind him.
“Yeah, well, you don’t understand, Cid,” Vincent half growled, half sobbed to his empty room. “You never will.” He ripped off the mask and threw it too, followed by a sweeping shove at his nightstand sending its contents onto the floor. His picture frame hit the wall and the glass in it splintered, and there was a shrill alarm from the regulator as its wiring was ripped loose. Struggling to his feet, Vincent staggered to his kitchenette. Vision blurring, he rummaged in his cabinet until he found a tumbler and then dug around in his bar until he found the bottle of vodka that was there. He tried to pour the alcohol, but his hands were shaking too much. With a snarl, he threw the tumbler against the wall, causing it to shatter. This caused him to begin coughing, which in turn ruptured some capillaries in his lungs. Wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve, he then took the bottle by its neck and retreated onto his balcony where he slid down the glass and metal wall to sit heavily. He twisted off the cap and took several large gulps, wincing as the liquor burned its way to his stomach. He didn’t care. He was ashamed, embarrassed, frustrated, hurt… he wiped another small trickle of blood away and took another drink.
As soon as he got halfway down the hall, Cid paused and turned around, conflicted. Running from Vincent, or from talking to Vincent, wasn’t helping either of them. But…was he helping by being there? He certainly didn’t feel like he was, but something else said yes. Tseng said that Vincent had said he loved Cid, but Vincent had said… Cid closed his eyes against that. Vincent was probably just upset; he couldn’t have meant…
He walked back to the door, determined to fix this somehow. Or maybe not fix it, but set it on the way to being fixed. He hadn’t locked it behind him, so maybe… He tried the door, and much to his relief, it opened. “Vincent?” he called softly, and there was no answer, just as he’d expected. He checked the bedroom and found the monitor still beeping in alarm- it looked as if they’d have to go after a new one. The bathroom was open; no Vincent there. The living room, the kitchen…both empty, but there was some mess near the bar. Shattered glass, in fact, some clear liquid, and a bit of blood. For all the amazing things Vincent could do, he could also be so destructive in such a short period of time…this, then, was what he’d tried to warn Cid about.
It didn’t change anything, and Cid knew that it never would. He’d made note of the balcony earlier, and that was the only place left to look. If he didn’t find Vincent there, then he’d surely find him several floors below it, and the very thought of that made him want to vomit.
He stepped out onto the balcony and saw Vincent, and his face fell but he didn’t make a sound. Slowly, Cid walked toward him and sat down a few inches away, still close enough to give comfort if it was wanted. “Help me understand,” he said simply, blue eyes taking in the form of the unbreakable broken man beside him.
Vincent sat, listlessly looking out over the dirty city that he called his kingdom and remained silent. What do you care? As long as you get what you want, who cares if it’s broken. Just keep patching it back together and wait for it to break again. Use it until it’s all gone…He took another drink from the Vodka bottle, and a thin trickle of the stuff ran over his chin. He left it. Without looking at Cid he held out the bottle to him. “What’s the greatest thing you’ve ever wanted?”
With only a little hesitance, Cid took the bottle and gasped as the large gulp he’d taken made its way down. He handed it back, thinking. He had no idea where the question was going, or what the answer was. “I dunno,” he said, frowning slightly. “I really don’t.”
“A wise answer, if a simple one. I envy you,” Vincent said softly, taking the bottle back and still looking out over the city. He took several more long swallows of the vodka, no longer feeling the burn, now that his throat was numb. “I once thought that my greatest wish was to achieve a high ranking position, to bring honor and wealth to my family, so I did as my father desired and became educated. I went to the academy and received high marks. Then, when I met her, my greatest wish was to make her happy. There was nothing more beautiful than her smile, so that was what I strove to do. Now?” He sighed and looked down at the bottle in his hand, then over to Cid and his eyes were infinitely sad. “Now, my greatest wish is to simply be in control of my own life. To live it as I wish. But to be in such control means to be completely alone, and that goes against a human’s very nature. Who wishes to be completely alone? Who can survive such crushing silence?” He sighed again and leaned his head back against the cold building behind him. “And so I must relinquish my freedom once again. I wonder, Cid. Can you find happiness without freedom?”
Cid frowned again, heart wrenching at those eyes that held so much more sadness than they ever should have seen. “Bein’ with someone don’t make ya any less free.” If it did, at least, he hadn’t noticed. “Ya get a whole new kinda freedom, really, when y’re with someone who loves ya. B’cause, nobody except somebody who loves ya’ll except ya no matter what. So y’re free t’be yerself without bein’ by yerself.” He shrugged. “Least that’s th’way I see it. If you’d rather say that it’s losin’ freedom, then yes, it’s possible t’find happiness that way.”
“But is it worth the price?” Vincent whispered. “If you give your whole heart to someone, live for them, hope and dream for them, and then they leave you…” He made a fist with the hand not holding the vodka bottle. “Is it worth that kind of pain?” He stared at his lap, his thin, too-pale legs, and the fine black hairs on them. “Or is it better having hollow, empty relationships; living only for the momentary, fleeting pleasure of mere minutes? To give up your heart is to give over control to that other person. It’s truly frightening being that out of control. To know that with a gesture, a word, even spoken in a fit of temper with no weight behind it can so hurt the other so much.” He flushed and his fist shook while he continued to look down at his lap. “The reflection of disappointment from the eyes of the one who controls you hurts so much more than the spoken words, ‘I hate you’. How can one be free to be themselves with the fear of that judgement always there?” He ended with the whispered, “How can you be free when you live to give the other everything they want? And be everything they expect?”
Confused, Cid looked at him. “Well, that answers itself, don’t it? If everything you want is to give them what they want, then y’ve got it made. Like, me, I…all I want anymore is fer you t’have what you want, an’ t’be safe when that’s possible. I don’t feel trapped. I feel...I feel so grateful that I have somethin’ t’live for.” It was true, though, that the smallest word or gesture of disappointment or anger from Vincent could send Cid into a state of hurt and regret the way nothing else could. “An’ when we hurt each other so easy like that, I try real hard t’be glad that I’m allowed t’feel so much fer someone. It’s better than feelin’ it fer nothin’.”
Vincent nodded and downed a third of the remaining vodka in one go. Cid still did not understand, and he didn’t know why he kept trying to make him. But it was such an innocently forgivable fault, and besides would he really want Cid to understand? How selfish of him to wish that kind of pain on such a pure heart; selfish and cruel. He could pretend to be untroubled, plaster a smile on his face when appropriate, and tell the necessary white lies to keep Cid happy. After all, hadn’t he been doing it for the last three years now? But that was just it. He didn’t want to. Cid deserved so much better than that. And he was trapped. He coughed softly and took another drink, wiping the liquid that trickled from the corner of his mouth, completely unaware that it was blood and not vodka. “You should go inside, it’s cold out here. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Shit,” Cid said, eyes wandering back to Vincent after a moment of staring into the distance. Muttering, “’Don’t want ya t’get sick,’ says th’guy with blood runnin’ outta ‘is mouth,” Cid stood and went inside just as Vincent had said. He didn’t have any more fight left in him today.
“Still glad I didn’t ask you to let me go?” Vincent muttered to the closed door. He drained the vodka bottle and tossed it carelessly over the railing. But he regretted everything he’d said, everything he had done and the way he had behaved. It was truly shameful and it made the despair he felt now hurt even more. He wanted something else to drink, wanted it so badly that he twitched, but he just didn’t have the strength to get up. And he didn’t want to go back inside and face Cid and the hurt and accusation, the disappointment he knew he would see in those beautiful blue eyes, and that made him want to weep. Shrugging out of his robe and shivering in the sudden dirty updraft from the street below, Vincent lay down, facing the wall with his robe as a pillow. It was funny how it took him back to his days of being an experiment and living in that tiny, windowless room. The only difference now was that he had a view, but no vent and no one to hear his voice.
Cid was back to square one. He still didn’t know how to help. Vincent wasn’t going to come back inside, and Cid wasn’t going to try to tell him to do so. But it was cold out there, and Vincent’s lungs were already a mess. He’d develop a cough if he kept breathing all that dry air…and not even getting all of it. Cid wandered back into the bedroom to check on the machine, but he doubted it would be of any use. His eyes lit on the blanket he’d walked out wearing earlier. That was warm… He grabbed it and headed out to the balcony once more, stopping to grab a towel for Vincent and a bottle of water for each of them. If Vincent allowed him to stay, they’d probably be out there for a long time.
He was not amused to see Vincent lying there in nothing but his boxers. On a warm day, that would be acceptable and welcome, but today…Sighing, Cid stepped through the door and set down the bottles. He handed the towel to Vincent, then sat down next to him. He sighed again, mentally groaning. The blanket wouldn’t cover them both this way, and Cid had no desire to sit out in the cold and watch Vincent be warm. Eventually, he sucked it up and stretched out next to Vincent, shuddering at the cold surface against his back. He draped the blanket over both of them carefully and snuggled against Vincent’s body, since it at least offered some warmth. He didn’t say anything, just placed his head against Vincent’s shoulder once more and waited.
Vincent’s eyes popped open when he felt Cid lie down behind him. His eyes burned when he felt Cid’s cheek against his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he rasped, disbelief and wild, desperate hope filling his voice.
Cid raised an eyebrow. He could only find one way to answer that. “Layin’ on th’ground. What are you doin’?” he asked.
Vincent snorted, but grinned. “What a coincidence. That’s what I’m doing as well, but I’d be willing to bet that you are not wallowing in childish self-pity.” He said softly, pressing back into Cid’s warmth. He couldn’t believe that Cid still wished to be around him after what he had said, and his miserable display of weakness. He was tense as he waited for Cid to get up and leave.
Draping an arm over Vincent’s waist and snuggling closer, Cid chuckled and shook his head. “Maybe not, but prob’ly if I stay here y’re gonna get it all over me.” He squeezed gently. “Nothin’ a good hot shower won’t fix.” He didn’t care, really; Vincent deserved to do a bit of wallowing. The only thing wrong with it was that Cid couldn’t fix it.
Vincent grabbed the hand of the arm that was around his waist and squeezed. “I’m sorry I was weak,” he whispered. It was so very hard to say that, but once it was out it relieved some of the tension that had held him so rigid, and Cid’s warm tone dispelled the rest of it. Swallowing, he rolled over to face Cid and wrapped his own arm around the blond. He buried his face in Cid’s neck and he shook a little as the rest of his apology came out. “And I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Cid made a small sound of surprise when Vincent rolled over, and held him closer when the other man pressed against him. “Don’t worry about apologizin’ t’me,” he whispered, “an’ I’ll always f’rgive ya, so don’t worry ‘bout that neither.” He took a deep breath that shook on the exhale. “’Sides, I hurt you just as bad, ‘n’ I’m sorry fer that, an’ fer not bein’ strong enough not t’walk out earlier. All in all, I’d say we’re even, yeah?”
Not even close, Cid. There’s so much more for me to atone for… so much. “Agreed,” Vincent murmured. He laid in Cid’s arms for a while in silence, just listening to the man breathe. Finally he said mournfully, “I don’t want to go back in there, I made such a dreadful mess.”
“Well.” Cid wasn’t going to deny that quite a bit of cleaning up would need to be done, but he didn’t want Vincent to worry over it. “You need t’be restin’ anyway, so don’t worry ‘bout that. ‘Sides, we don’t hafta go back in ‘til y’want to. Or ‘til y’can’t breathe. I think y’re gonna hafta put in fer a new machine, by th’way.”
Vincent winced. “Figures,” he muttered and snuggled in closer to Cid. “Did I ever mention I have a bit of a violent temper?”
Cid chuckled and held more tightly. “Oh, I’m sure y’did. Just one o’ those things I chose not t’listen to then an’ am choosin’ not t’care much about now.” He smiled and sighed happily. “I mean it, Vincent, when things like this happen b’tween us…once I cool down, I remember t’be glad, ‘cause it means y’trust me enough t’let me see that side of ya. I mean, if y’wanted t’keep me at a distance, y’d put up that cold, emotionless mask y’always wear.” He knew he had probably said too much, but he’d felt that he needed to say it all anyway.
“That means a lot to me, Cid.” Vincent murmured, tucking his face into Cid’s neck and inhaling deeply, well, as deeply as he could anyway. He loved the way Cid smelled. It comforted him like little else managed to do these days. “That mask is very heavy and gets harder and harder to take off.” He rolled onto his back, pulling Cid over on top of him. The metal of the balcony was cold on the bare skin of his back, but it paled in comparison to the heat coming off of Cid. He then pulled Cid’s mouth down onto his. He took his time; kissing Cid and probing lazily with his tongue into the warm cavern of Cid’s mouth, sliding it in a velvety rasp over the cop’s… his lover’s. Lover. Such a funny word when he thought of two men together in passion, but it was a word he could no longer deny. He could feel the soft bulge of Cid’s sex pressing against his thigh and he shivered, reaching one hand around to grip a firm buttock. “Thank you for not leaving me,” he said when they broke apart. “It’s so cold out here.” He wasn’t talking about the balcony, but he had a feeling Cid would know what he was talking about anyway.
Cid had been confused at first when Vincent had tugged them closer, but he had nothing to complain about as Vincent kissed him. Never mind that the mood had suddenly changed from melancholy to…this, whatever it was; Vincent was kissing him, and Cid could feel the hunger even though the movements were slow. “I wouldn’t leave ya,” he whispered, nuzzling Vincent’s neck. “An’ I know it’s cold. That’s why m’here, t’warm ya up.” A bit of a whine worked itself into his voice in the last few words. Vincent’s hand was still on him, keeping his body close, and it felt good even after so much contact with the other man over the past several days. Cid kissed him again, just as slowly and knowing that the deliberation of the gesture made it all the more convincing and worthwhile.
And so the two men remained that way, kissing and losing track of time. They only existed for each other in those moments, taking solace and comfort in the presence of the other. Hands explored and roamed over familiar flesh and various words of endearment were murmured. When they finally came to a stop it was well towards the noon-hour. Vincent’s expression was a dreamy one as he lay half over Cid, having switched positions with the other several times during their balcony activities. The corners of his mouth curved up in a small smile. “You must be getting hungry,” he said softly, tracing a finger over and around one of Cid’s nipples. The hair on Cid’s chest tickled his cheek and caused his grin to widen. He rubbed his cheek against Cid’s chest, sighing contentedly.
His face was still flushed, and his skin still tingled with every movement of Vincent’s fingers. “I’m all right,” he answered quietly. “Rather be out here anyway.” That much was true; he knew that once they went inside, the perfect peace between them would break, and Vincent would likely go back to worrying over the damage he’d caused. No; better by far to stay here and keep loving each other every way they could. “Y’kiss me again?” he asked hopefully, strong hand still rubbing over Vincent’s back.
Vincent smiled and lifted himself up onto his arms to do as Cid had asked. He took his time again, savoring the feel of a long, drawn-out kiss before he sat up. He needed to, he was getting stiff. He sat touching Cid’s side with a thigh as he crossed his legs, and petted the hair on Cid’s chest, running his fingers through it alternating with smoothing the dark gold patch. Absurdly, he thought of Cid’s pubic hair and he shook his head a little to clear it, grinning lopsidedly. He had such a sick mind. He let his eyes wander over Cid’s chest and shoulders. Such golden skin. Even with the imperfections it was perfect. “Did you know I had tried to escape once?” Being out here on the balcony had reminded him of that. “Their method of punishment was a bit… ineffective.”
Wary, Cid shook his head. “No, I don’t think y’mentioned that.” He didn’t want to talk about sad things now, not when they were just enjoying each other’s presence, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance to have Vincent speak about his past. The more talking he did, the less wondering and worrying Cid had to do. He was tempted to sit up as well, but enjoyed Vincent’s hands on his chest too much to move away from the touch.
Vincent chuckled. “It’s nothing much.” His hand then moved up to trace fingers over Cid’s face. It was a face that had come to mean so much to him. “It failed, obviously, and as punishment they took away my bed and forced me to sleep on the floor. They would have beaten me, but by that point I was Hojo’s little pet project and he wouldn’t allow me to be hurt,” he ended wryly. “They had forgotten that I had spent the better part of a month sleeping in concrete gutters, so the loss of an already uncomfortable bed was nothing to me.” He picked up Cid’s hand and brought it into his lap. He then looked up at Cid shyly through his hair. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, but it’s surprisingly easy to talk to you. And it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought I would. Thank you for that.”
Cid shook his head. “Nah, s’all right. I don’t mind, y’know that. S’just that I don’t like thinkin’ that y’had t’go through any o’ that.” He rubbed Vincent’s thigh for a moment, then shifted so that his head was in Vincent’s lap. His arms wrapped around Vincent’s hips. “Think I am gonna head on inside. F’you cook ‘r call somethin’ in, I’ll clean up th’mess.”
Vincent had shrugged at the mention of having to endure what he had. “It’s in the past now, nothing I can do about it. Besides,” he grinned, “whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, right?” His grin faded, though, at the mention of the mess he had made. “I’ll be happy to fix you something, but you don’t need to clean up my mess. I’ll take care of that… somehow.” He pet Cid’s hair as his brain tried to figure out just how he was going to accomplish that particular feat. Suddenly he thought of something; something more manageable for his current state. “What would you like to eat?”
No matter that it was in the past; it still hurt, at least for Cid. He wouldn’t dwell on it, though, especially not while Vincent was eager to talk of other things. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the hand stroking his hair. “No, it’s my mess. I c’n take care o’ that.” His stomach rumbled a bit, and Cid sighed and relased Vincent, sitting up slowly. “Don’t really know what I wanna eat. Whatever y’scrounge up is good enough fer me.”
Vincent blinked down at Cid in surprised confusion. “How in Gaia’s name is it your mess? I was the one who threw a temper-tantrum. No, you’ll leave it. Sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”
“Well, it wouldn’t’a happened if I hadn’t walked out,” he asserted, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “An’ it won’t take me but a few minutes, an’ then I’ll come sit with ya.” He stood and held out both hands to Vincent.
Vincent studied Cid’s face, the firm set to the man’s jaw and the look in the blue eyes that told him that any argument he gave would be lost, and nodded. He then reached up as best he could, took Cid’s hands and braced his arms to keep from pulling on his chest, and let he man heft him to his feet. Cid bent over and picked up his wadded up robe, shook it out and put it over Vincent’s shoulders, helping him into it then motioned for Vincent to re-enter the apartment first. With a small, not unpleasant sigh, Vincent headed for the kitchen and began rummaging in his refrigerator for… something, to fix for Cid.
Meanwhile, Cid walked to where the shattered glass and spilled liquid were still waiting to be cleared. He wandered into the kitchen briefly to find a mop and bucket. He found both in the small closet off to the right and headed back to the mess. He picked up the largest of the chunks of glass first, then took the mop to the spill. Everything went well for a while, and then one of the smaller pieces of glass lodged itself in his foot. Cursing quietly, Cid backed off a bit to finish cleaning the rest. He’d gathered the rest of the glass shards through use of the mop, and they were no problem now to add to the pile of the larger ones. He would come back in a few minutes with a damp cloth to make sure the sticky quality left the floor, and then he would tend to his foot. After depositing the remains of the tumbler in the trash, going back with the cloth, and washing his hands, Cid took a seat at the kitchen table. He squinted at the bottom of his foot, looking for the glass, but didn’t see anything. Shrugging, he sat back and watched Vincent work.
What could he fix? He had several different kinds of vegetables, some chicken. Vincent snapped his fingers. That’s it! With more energy, he began pulling out the vegetables, and the chicken. Next he turned on his stove and pulled out a large skillet. He ran some water into the bottom of it and placed it on the stove to heat, and then went for a marinade. He returned to the sink and began washing the vegetables. That completed, he pulled out a knife and cutting board and began slicing the peppers and onions. He stopped after the vegetables were prepared and tossed into the skillet to rub his chest. It was beginning to hurt with all of the movement he was doing, but he was determined to fix Cid a decent meal. Particularly after all of the grief he had caused the poor man. Next came the chicken. After carefully washing the breasts, he began cutting them into thin slices and added them to the vegetables that were beginning to simmer. He then moved to the stove after locating a spatula, and added the marinade. That done, he leaned heavily against the stove and rubbed his chest again, wheezing a little. It wouldn’t take long for the food to cook. Now all he had to do was make sure the chicken was cooked all the way through without losing any of its moisture. He filled a glass with water so he could keep the food wet as it cooked.
Cid frowned at the way Vincent kept stopping to rub his chest. He would have offered to take over, but he knew exactly how that would end. It would end in them ordering pizza, and even Cid was tired of that. Something had to be done, though, about that pain. The surgery was a full two weeks away, and that had to come first. Midgar’s air wasn’t helping. Cid knew that. He agreed with Tseng that the surgery needed to be bumped up. Vincent’s body would have recovered already from the first one, so the space between was doing nothing but harming him.
That, though, was a conversation for another day. After finally locating the offending bit of glass and plucking it out with a sound of triumph, Cid stood and washed his hands again and then stood behind Vincent and put his arms about the robe-clad waist. Vincent’s recently developed slouch made it easier for Cid to rest his head on the other’s shoulder, and he did that now, nuzzling at the pale neck. “We need t’get outta here,” he stated bluntly, figuring that determination would earn him more points than vague suggestion. “I know y’have things t’do here an’ y’can’t be gone long, but once y’get the papers an’ all signed, you c’n do whatever y’want so long as business goes on. An’ yer boys c’n handle that for a little while- we’ve seen ‘em do it already. But this is killin’ ya, Vincent. Restin’ here ain’t no kind o’ rest, ‘cause y’re still surrounded by things y’gotta do an all that.”
Taking a deep breath, Cid continued. “Y’wanted t’take me t’see the ocean, right? Why don’t we do that? After yer surgery, we’ll take a couple days, maybe a week. Hell, Vincent, I gotta get outta here. It felt so good t’drive outta Midgar the other day…” He trailed off and shook his head. “An’ I won’t wanna come back this time either, but I will, ‘cause I know I hafta. So call Dr. B, move up yer surgery t’sometime durin’ th’week. An’ then on that Friday, we’ll go see yer Cloud an’ then we’ll hit th’coast, just me an’ you. Leave all this b’hind fer a little while an’ just…be with each other. No rules fer us over there. I think we need that. Just…a couple days, maybe a week?” Grinning, he added in a whisper, “Think about how dark m’skin’ll get in th’sun. I know y’like that.”
Vincent let loose a soft moan of longing as he leaned back into Cid. Unbidden his body stirred as he felt Cid press up behind him. The hand not holding the metal spatula found its way to one of Cid’s arms and he turned his head to rest his lips against the man’s temple. It sounded so wonderful. A place where they could go and no one would recognize him. No more secret meetings, no more hiding from the authorities, complete and total anonymity. He and Cid could walk down the street holding hands; eat together at restaurants, and other more intimate activities. But he couldn’t, could he? He had too much that he had to see to here. ShinRa’s power and responsibilities had to be transferred onto his shoulders. There were meetings with other crime bosses, his alliance with the Kisaragis and the Syndicate to juggle, the authorities to keep an eye on, his debt to Sephiroth to pay off, and finally Genesis Rhapsodos. He couldn’t just up and leave with so much to do. But… hadn’t Tseng proven that he and the others could handle things for that long? And it would only be a week. He’d be back to keep giving Cloud his mako injections, and couldn’t he find someone to take over running the administrative duties of ShinRa Pharmeseuticals? All he would have to do was make his presence known to those parties of interest, draw the lines and let his men enforce the new law. And besides, no one had to know that he was taking a vacation. He could just have Tseng say that he was travelling on business and investigating new investment possibilities. His heart sped up as excitement and anxiety raced through the blood in the veins at the prospect of leaving Midgar. It wouldn’t be forever, but he could pretend. Drop the collar and shackles of his life and feel freedom, even if it was only a temporary freedom. His hand tightened on Cid’s arm and he whispered in a shaky voice, “Take me away. Take me away, Cid. I’ll let you set it up while I take care of business here. We’ll go see the ocean together.”
“I’ll take you,” he whispered. “I’ll take ya there, an’ I’ll make sure we get ever’thin’ out of it we can.” He wouldn’t want to come back. He already didn’t want to come back, and they hadn’t even made plans yet. “We’ll spend a week. I’ll set it up. Get ourselves a cabin there on an empty stretch o’ beach, just relax.” His hands roved over Vincent’s chest, moving under the robe. “Make love to ya there, while nobody’s watchin’ an’ nobody cares. Just me an’ you.” He sighed and kissed Vincent’s neck. The idea sounded far too appealing to put off any longer. “I’ll call t’day, dammit.”
“Careful, Cid,” Vincent gasped, longing to stretch up straighter so that he could arch into Cid’s touch, but restricted from doing so by the nagging pain in his chest. “You’re going to sound desperate in a moment.” Well, it was something they could work on for the remainder of the weekend: he could wade through the legal documents signing ShinRa over to him and Cid could plan a vacation. In his opinion, Cid got the clean end of the stick. His hand shaking a little, he returned to stirring and flipping Cid’s lunch. “Would you like rice with this?” he asked, voice mirroring his trembling hand.
“Maybe I am desperate,” he whispered, arms tightening around Vincent before relaxing and moving away from the slender body entirely. He had no idea how to plan a vacation. He figured he would just call a travel agency and have them set it up. Or Tseng. Tseng did stuff. “Nah, I prob’ly won’t eat rice,” he answered, finally sparing a moment to pay attention to what was being cooked. “Looks good, though.”
“Thank you,” Vincent murmured, flipping the contents of the skillet with practiced ease. “Please go sit and I’ll bring you a plate, it’s almost ready.” He coughed softly, keeping his mouth closed. “What would you like to drink? I have water, or I could make you some tea. Everything else is alcoholic except for the coffee.”
Reluctantly, Cid returned to the table and sat. “Water’s fine,” he answered, not wanting to put Vincent through more trouble. “C’d at least let me take care o’ drinks an’ set th’table, y’know. I ain’t s’much a guest as a permanent fixture.”
While he continued to face the stove, Vincent grinned. He then reached up and over to turn the stove off, saying, “Oh really. If you’re a permanent fixture, do you come with a warranty?” He looked over his shoulder and winked lazily before retrieving a plate, placing it next to the stove and waiting the last several minutes for the meat to finish cooking all the way through. He turned around and leaned forward onto his arms on the small island, sighing in temporary relief. “I don’t mind serving you, permanent fixture or not, it’s my pleasure.” He looked at Cid for a while longer, just letting his eyes roam openly over the toned chest and lower. His eyebrow arched and he teased. “You may need to go and visit the gym, Highwind. You’ve been sleeping too much, and it’s starting to show a little.” His tone was light but warm, and a grin tugged his lips upward.
“Warranty ran out already, sorry. I think y’re stuck with what y’got.” He grinned back at Vincent and watched him as he was being watched. The hint of appreciation in the other’s eyes was warming, and it took Cid a moment to respond to the words in the face of that gaze. He raised an eyebrow. “Gettin’ furry again, too,” he added, pointing to the hair on his face that could no longer safely be called stubble. “Ain’t my fault, though. M’your permanent fixture, so’m your responsibility. Proper upkeep an’ whatnot.” Just the same, he would be visiting the gym. Part of him missed doing that, but he figured that he missed the motivation to do it even more. “Maybe you should come watch. You ain’t seen very much in th’way o’ excitin’ things lately if y’think I’m worth starin’ at when I’m fat.”
Vincent laughed at that. He couldn’t help it. Something about that struck him as funny and he was still chuckling as he turned around and removed the food from the stove. Carefully he placed a good portion of it on Cid’s plate, grabbed a fork, knife, and napkin and made his slow way to the table to put the food in front of Cid. “Fat, thin, weak or strong, you’ll always be perfect to me, Cid.” He murmured and placed a chaste kiss to the top of the man’s head. “Now eat up, but don’t burn your mouth.” He cautioned with another wink and hobbled over to fill a glass with filtered water from his fridge. He placed it down in front of Cid as well before taking a seat across the small table from the blond, his chin propped in his hand.
Cid grinned as Vincent laughed, enjoying the sound. The grin turned to a small, serious smile when the words reached him. After nodding at the caution about hot food and taking a drink of the cool water, he met Vincent’s eyes. He had something to say, and he didn’t want the chance to be gone before he managed it. “Do y’remember th’first night when y’came t’my apartment? I said I was lonely all the time, ‘r somethin’ like that? I just…I don’t think I ever told ya that I ain’t been lonely in a long time, since you. Thought y’oughta know,” he finished in nearly a whisper, holding the other’s gaze for a little longer before taking his first bite of the meal.
Vincent remained silent, moved. What did one say to that? What words could ever be appropriate? “I am glad,” he whispered, reaching across the table for Cid’s hand, a gentle smile on his face.
“M’glad y’re glad,” he responded, proper grin back in place as he squeezed Vincent’s hand. He hoped that someday he could make Vincent feel the same way, but for now Cid was content with what they had. He continued holding the other man’s hand as he began to shovel food regularly into his mouth. “It is good,” he said once between bites. “Y’ain’t gonna have any?”
Vincent’s smile broadened and he shook his head slightly. “No, I’m not hungry.” He squeezed Cid’s hand. It felt good to have his cooking enjoyed. Strange how he had never noticed it before; then again, he had never cooked for anyone before and he found himself blushing. “So,” he cleared his throat softly. “Have you any specific place in mind for our rather… hastily-planned vacation?”
A blushing Vincent was almost as good as a laughing Vincent, and Cid committed the sight to memory. “Well...no, not really. I mean, I wanna see someplace completely diff’rent from here, an’ we wanna see the ocean. I w’s thinkin’ prob’ly leavin’ Midgar entirely, th’continent, I mean, ‘cause from what I hear most of it’s the same ‘til ya get across. We c’n take a boat, so y’c’n show me what it is that appeals to ya so much about ‘em.” He shrugged and placed his fork gently on his mostly empty plate. “Costa del Sol’s the main tourist destination, so prob’ly too crowded fer our tastes. But maybe someplace like it? It looks nice, from what I’ve seen."
Vincent cocked his head, thoughtful for a moment before he nodded hesitantly. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Leaving the continent would be good. I don’t have many contacts across the Junon Strait, so the chance of me being recognized would be slim to none. It would be a welcome change.” He pulled his hand back from Cid’s grip and straightened in his seat. “But there is much to be done before I go anywhere.” He sighed.
“Well, there’s nothin’ t’be done about that,” Cid conceded, nodding. “’Cept to get it done quick as ya can an’ keep remindin’ yerself what’s gonna come of it, I guess.” Cid had an entirely different problem. He had no idea what he was doing in terms of planning, nor was his sense of geography very keen. Then there was the problem of packing and finding some way to occupy his time while Vincent was working. “I’ll just keep outta yer way. Hang out in th’gym so I got somethin’ worth showin’ off when we hit th’beach.” He grinned and reached for Vincent’s hand again. “You go get t’work, an’ I’ll call some places. I’ll letcha know when I think I found somethin’.”
“Good,” Vincent said softly, twining his fingers with Cid’s across the table briefly. The mention of “hitting the beach” had set off a tiny warning bell. He wasn’t exactly beach material, what with his eternally pale complexion and scars, but he would rather enjoy watching Cid show off that great golden body of his. Now that he thought about it, he really didn’t understand why Cid had remained single for so long. He was an extremely attractive man. Sure, he wasn’t exactly beautiful, certainly not in the conventional sense, but there was far more to true beauty than a pretty face, and he hadn’t been lying when he had said that Cid was perfect. His heart, his soul was gorgeous, and if he had to broach the subject of physical beauty, Cid held a certain ruggedness that never once called into question his masculinity. The hard planes of the man’s body, the rough angles of his face, even the tiny blemishes all added to his appeal. And he was loathe to admit it, but he was jealous of Cid a little. He had always been painfully aware of his “pretty face” and everything that had happened because of it, and he had always longed to be able hold the kind of muscle mass that Cid possessed.
Blinking suddenly, Vincent shook his head as he broke his somewhat dreamy stare. With a final squeeze of fingers, he withdrew his hand and struggled to his feet. “So chastened, I shall go and pick up my mess in the bedroom and begin working. Please, feel free to help yourself to the rest of the food and anything else you wish from the refrigerator.” He quirked his lips in a lopsided grin and began making his way to his bedroom, wondering vaguely where he had put his cane. He had to stop for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, breathing somewhat heavily to try and catch his breath and rubbing his chest again.
He then pushed himself off of it and took several steps into the bedroom, wincing at the littered flurry of papers. There was a crunch as he stepped on something, and he looked down. “Oh no,” he moaned softly. His picture frame. Using the bed, he somehow managed to lower himself to the floor and reached over to snag the broken frame. Drawing his knees up towards his chest, he leaned back against the bed and placed the broken frame against his legs, looking sadly at the one of him and Aiden. How different things would be now, if his son had lived. He would still be in Wutai, probably working for the emperor, or at the very least teaching. His son would have been old enough to begin being interested in girls right about now. With a sad smile, he traced the picture carefully with his fingertips. How happy he had been then! Look at my face. Even in my sorrow, such a smile, he thought. Would he ever be able to smile like that again, he wondered?