-1Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII. In fact, I don't even own my own copy of the game; my friend loaned it to me a few years ago and I haven't managed to get it back to her yet.

Anyway, I wrote this whole little ficlet just to write the ending scene. I can just see Cid's face.

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Vincent narrowed his eyes, but Cid's stance made it obvious that the other male considered the conversation closed. Well he so happened to disagree.

"We are not through talking about this."

"Fuck, Vin!" the blonde burst out, "we might as well have not talked at all for all yer listening to me!"

"That's because you are being stupid," he replied bluntly. Obviously. "You have the Highwind and Miss Shera. You have people who rely on you. No one, yourself included, will miss me when I leave."

"I told you that you ain't fucking going!" Cid snarled. This argument had gone 'round and 'round in circles for at least twenty minutes already, but the two of them were obviously going to beat it to death. "What are ya gonna do, crawl into a little hole and die?! That ain't gonna happen!"

He walked around in front of Vincent and put both of his hands on the other's, looking him right in his glowing red eyes. "Yer my friend, Vin. So if you ain't got anywhere else to go, then yer staying here with me." He grinned suddenly. "I can just see ya, covered in engine grease and arguin' with me about adjustin' the engine."

"Then you are simply delusional." He shrugged off Cid's big hands and turned to the side so that the eye contact between them was broken. "I am not a people person. I prefer my solitude."

"I don't believe ya for one goddamn second! No one - no one! - chooses to be alone." Cid leaned against the wall, one hand digging around in his pockets. "I know ya aren't gonna believe me, Vin, but we're friends. Or as close as I'm sure either of us has in this world. That means we gotta look out for each other. Stay. At least until you figure out where yer gonna go from here."

"I have no intentions of free-loading off of my… 'friends'." His lip quirked in amusement. Only Cid could actually say that without cracking up or diminishing his masculinity.

"It ain't free-loadin' if I ask ya to stay. It's called bein' a guest. If ya feel too guilty about it, I can always put ya to work; I'm sure we'll find somethin' you can do." He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and gave the bottom a firm whack, a single cig popping up. He grabbed it between two fingers and put the packet away, digging for a lighter.

"I believe, Cid," Vincent started, amused at his friend's insistence, "that forcing me to stay here is involuntary confinement."

"Then throw my ass in jail! You ain't got no choice in the matter."

"You are going to regret offering me a place," he said, his resolve starting to lessen. It felt nice, having someone care. It had been a long time.

"We'll see, Vin; we'll see." He put the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a lighter, clicking it open and touching it to the end.

In an instant, Vincent reached out with his gauntlet-covered hand and snatched the cigarette away, bringing it to his own lips and taking a deep drag. He and Cid glared at each other for a long second before Vincent turned and blew the smoke into the air. Then he dropped the cigarette to the floor and stepped on it with his boot, twisting just enough to crush it out.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Those things are poison. You are going to kill yourself, and if you are taking responsibility for me, I refuse to let that happen."

He lifted up on his toes and pressed his lips to Cid's for only half a second before pulling back and walking away. "Idiot."