Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII. Bradley's mine, and so is Fabio, the one and only exclusive mailman…that only appears in this one chapter. XD

A/N: And here's my next tryout. I've already finished this story, but it's divided into parts. I'll update within time, but I'm mostly concerned with what you, the readers, think. It's my first REAL Final Fantasy VII story, and Cid's one of my favorite characters. This takes place shortly after Sephiroth's defeat, and is a little AU to some of the information in Dirge of Cerberus. Let me know what you think.

By the way, this story is mostly Cid-centric, which means that it's more than curse-friendly, thanks to my counterpart in this story. If cursing offends any virgin ears, then turn back. Turn back I say!

Chapter One

Spewed Tea and Rude Awakenings

\/\/\/

"Cid, pay attention to what I'm saying!"

The pilot avoided eye contact with the gunman as he brushed past him, carrying a rather large and heavy box of odds and ends.

"I heard what ya said the first time, Vincent. I ain't bloody deaf."

Cid could hear the man shuffle behind him. "Then repeat what I just said."

"I don't gotta repeat nuthin' ya said," the foulmouthed man replied, setting the box down in the corner of the shed. He straightened his back and wiped the sweat from his brow. With his other hand, he adjusted the cigarette hanging out from between his lips.

He grew startled when Vincent's hand reached forward and snatched the burning stick from out of Cid's mouth. He began to shake it furiously at the pilot.

"I didn't come all the way here to be ignored. You asked me to help you sort things out in the shed today and that's what I'm here for."

"Sure coulda fooled me…" Cid muttered, his voice barely above audibility.

"What was that?"

"Uh…nuthin' important."

He could feel Vincent's eyes burning into the back of his head and it suddenly made him even more uncomfortable. Damn, why the hell does it suddenly seem like the temperature has gone up twenty freaking degrees? And the space is closin' in on me, too. Shit.

"Cid, I'm just concerned. I think what bothers me the most is because I see you making the same mistakes that I already have. There was a time when I let the wrong choices happen because of my reluctance. That is why I am cursed now."

"So yer sayin' that because you made some shitty choices in the past I'm gonna wind up the same as you?" Cid Highwind wanted to laugh. He reached for his stolen cigarette, but Vincent let it drop to the ground and stomped it out with his foot.

The pilot frowned. Bastard…

"All I'm saying is that those choices have cost me true happiness. It's been two days since our return and I'm still uncertain of where I can go. Everyone seems to have a place but me."

"Then why the hell ya pickin' on me? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Vincent shook his head. "But I'm afraid that you might."

Cid forced a sigh. Deep down, he knew that the EX-Turk was being honest, a trait that others rarely caught. He admired the man, despite his monotonous sin crap that was always ongoing, and he knew that any advice offered by Vincent Valentine was something worth taking.

But Gods! This was too much! The guy had come early that morning, as promised, to help clean out the shed, but spent most of his time in circuitous lectures revolving around Cid's personal life—like he was some kind of expert! "Tell her before it's too late," were his first words and had gone in one ear and out the other until the pilot realized what the other man was hinting at.

Like hell that he'd have any clue as to what he's talkin' about. And he dun know a damn thing 'bout me an' Shera.

"Have you given any thought as to what would happen if she moved out on you?"

A laugh echoed inside of the shed and Cid turned to the man with a smile on his face. "And where would she go? Costa Del Sol?"

"Don't tempt the female mind, Cid," Vincent warned. "What if she met another man?"

The laughter was gone, and, mentally, the pilot's spine became slightly crooked. "Uh…are you asking if I would care?"

"I know you'd care."

"Psh!" Cid replied, almost immediately whirling his attention back to the large pile of junk in the corner of the shed. There was a large mound and the pilot hadn't quite had the time to sort through it. "You've been sleepin' too long in a box, Vincent. Times have changed an' ya don't know the first thing 'bout me. In fact, I've been thinking about leaving this hellhole for quite some time. And ya know what?" Looking back at the other man, he said, "I think I might just do it."

"Can I ask you a question, then?"

"Isn't that what you've already been doin' for the past damn hour?"

"Can I ask where you went on the day Cloud gave us off to find out what we were fighting for?"

A moment of unexpected silence passed between them.

"Whaddya mean 'where did I go,' Vincent!? I was here acourse."

"Here in Rocket Town?"

"No, here in the damn shed. Yes, here in Rocket Town!"

"And what happened?"

Cid was still hunched over. Next time I'll ask Cloud to come by. Or I'll just do the work by myself. It ain't worth all the hassle. "I went ta bed. What? Is this twenty questions now? You the Neo-Turks or something? The hell you wanna know!?"

Cid instantly regretted his choice of words, but did not apologize. He silently blamed it on the loss of his temper. Stupid Vincent should remember that I don't have that much patience for idiotic crap like that.

"To bed? You…You didn't say anything to her?"

"Shit Vincent! The hell ya want from me!? I went to bed, all right!"

The former Turk crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Cid skeptically.

"What? I didn't just hang out at the bar if that's what yer thinkin'!"

It got silent again after that. Cid went back to pretending to sort through the junk while Vincent stared down at a vacant corner—the only one in the shed, as a matter of fact. Cid could hear him exhale from behind.

"All right, Cid. I believe you. I just wanted to help you—"

"Don't need no help."

The pilot recognized the sound of the shed door opening. "I'll show myself out. Sorry for wasting your time."

Cid only snorted.

\/\/\/

"…Well, it's only been two days now, but I'm still trying to be careful." Shera twirled the phone cord around her tiny finger. "I don't want him to get suspicious." She looked over her shoulder at the door that led to the backyard, as though anticipating something. She turned back to the phone. "It's getting too risky to talk on the phone. How about you send another letter?"

Again she diverted her attention back to the door. The knob was jiggling. A small gasp escaped between her lips and she held the receiver close to her mouth, whispering, "I can't talk anymore. Have to go…" The phone was quickly placed onto the hook as Cid walked into the house, sweaty and tired. He saw her standing by the telephone.

"Who was that?" he asked after a moment of gazing from it to her.

"Uh…oh that?" She clasped her fingers behind her back, spun on one foot, and briskly moved to the kitchen. "Wrong number."

"Wrong number?" he quirked an eyebrow. "Sure seemed to be quick ta get off the phone soon as I came in."

"No, no, it was a wrong number." She adjusted the glasses on her little nose, nervously. "Can I make you some tea, Captain?"

"Whatever." He turned around and walked into the bathroom. She could hear the sound of running water and figured that he was washing the grime from his hands. "Did Vincent walk outta here?" Cid called out.

"Yes, I saw him leave. Why?"

"No reason," he muttered, almost too low for Shera to hear. "He was jus' being a jerk."

"Captain, that's not a very nice thing to say," she remarked.

The water instantly turned off. "Yeah? Well, who asked you!?"

She shrunk back against the stove, even though he wasn't there in the room with her. Just his very words were powerful and harsh enough to make her shrivel down to the size of a bug. I wonder why he's so upset…

He came out a moment later, drying his hands with one of their good towels. He tossed it at her. "Never mind. Forget the tea. I'm gonna go out fer a while." Cid grabbed his jacket and almost stormed out of the house. Shera gazed from the door, to the kettle on the stove, and then to the phone on the wall. She bolted around the table and grabbed the phone from off of the receiver, quickly punching in a number.

\/\/\/

Vincent was pissed. No. He was BEYOND pissed. He felt the sudden urge to overturn chairs in the bar and smash drinks with his artificial, yet very cool looking, arm. Instead he remained there, shoulders squared, and staring eye to eye with the bartender.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Valentino?"

"It's Valentine," Vincent inattentively corrected. It was strange, really. His mind was set on everything else but his name. "Can you repeat what you just said?"

"I said that…a-yup," the fatter man nodded, "I saw him here that day. Came in here with five-hundred gil and nearly drank himself into oblivion. It got to the point where he was so plastered that I began swapping his drinks with plain old cream soda."

Vincent was still again. He lied to me. I should've known…

"After about two in the morning, he spent the whole night in the bathroom, praying to the Porcelain King."

There was suddenly an unpleasant sound as Vincent ran his sharp claws across the burnish of the counter like nails on a chalkboard. Four lighter streaks of brown were left behind once he finished scratching up the counter. The bartender stared from the damage done to the countertop back up to Vincent.

"You gonna pay for that?"

\/\/\/

"Hey Cid! Come get your mail!"

The mailman removed his cupped hands from around his mouth and looked to Cid's bedroom window. He mumbled something about "arson" and "stolen planes" before glancing at his watch and realizing that he still had to finish the morning run. He knew that he shouldn't have to be standing outside the Highwind residence, but for the last three days since Cid had been home from whatever he had been doing (fishing or lamenting his losses at Gold Saucer), there had been a violent streak of mail theft. Now, Fabio the mailman wasn't quite sure what it was that Cid had that was so important that his mail would get stolen (hell, it was strange altogether that it was only Cid's mail that had been stolen), but Cid had called him everyday, uttering new strings of curse words that Fabio had never heard before. Even the sputtered phrases in Wutain was enough to make him think about taking it up as a second language.

But that wasn't the point. The phone calls had to stop. So, when Cid's mail was delivered, Fabio decided to stand outside the window, hands cupped around his mouth, and call out to the foulmouthed pilot before he got his butt shot off by other impatient receivers on the route.

The window finally slid open and Cid groggily stuck his head outside (Fabio could hear him muttering more of his magical vocabulary as he came into contact with the cold), rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Who the hell is callin' me!?" Cid nearly roared. "I ain't in the damn military anymore!"

"Come get your mail before it gets stolen again, Cid!" Fabio replied, not bothering to answer the blonde pilot.

"Son of a bitch…" Cid seemed astounded to see the mailman outside his window, a gold Chocobo warking behind him with a sash tossed over its back like a saddle that had the "Go Go-a-Lo!" postal emblem imprinted on it. He immediately flipped Fabio the "no-no" finger. "You asshole! It was my day off today, and ya had to wake me up fer that!?"

"Dear Lord," Fabio shook his head. "There's just no pleasing some people! Fine! As of today, you can come down to the station to get your mail, Cid! I can't take this anymore!" the mailman, in fit and rage, hopped onto his Chocobo, lightly tapped it on its side, and trotted off down to the next house.

"Quitter!" Cid called after him.

\/\/\/

Cid stomped outside, an unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, and wrapped the blue robe around himself. He stared off into the distance where the mailman had gone and kept a mental note to complain about the postal service's lousy mailmen. He violently yanked the lid open and threw his hand inside, eyes still on the trail where Fabio had cowardly retreated to. "Little piece of sh—" Wait a minute…what's this?

Curious, Cid withdrew several envelopes, but the one on top seemed…different. He turned to look at it, grabbing the other end with his free hand. The envelope was light blue with amazing handwriting in black calligraphy. The one thing that had caught his attention in the first place, however, was the weightiness of it.

Cigarette still pursed in between his lips, Cid read the recipient's name aloud, "Shera…432 Post Aven—Rocket Town…From…Bradley Richton…Who the…Hell's Bells!"

If anyone had been watching, they would've seen Cid trip on his porch steps in the process of dashing back inside of his house. Once he had successfully picked himself back up (and made sure no one was watching for a good laugh), he tore the door open and stormed back inside.

"SHERA!" he screamed. The woman scuttled down the stairs, clad in her own light pink robe, like there was a fire on the first floor.

When she saw him standing there, out of breath and rubbing his sore knee from which he had fallen on, she blinked, her face unreadable.

"Yes, Captain? Something wrong?"

"Dammit, woman! When the mailman comes, ya gotta get outside before those bratty mail thieves highjack the mail again! Make me do all the work around here…DAMN!" He limped past her and tossed the letter on top in her direction. He looked at the rest of the letters in his hand and frowned. Bills…Bills…Gods, not jury duty again!

At the sound of not quite stifled laughter, he turned his head, his bottom lip sticking out with a frown. He glanced at Shera over his shoulder. She had already plucked the paper out from the envelope and he could smell something like…lavender…or some other kind of nasty crap like that.

"The hell you laughin' at?"

She didn't answer him at first, and it irritated him even more. Instead, she continued to read the letter like Cid wasn't even there. His frown deepened. Shera finally began to giggle like a lovestricken schoolgirl and the pilot's curiosity grew. What on earth was she reading?

"Shera?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, what?" It seemed like a struggle for her to pull her eyes away from the letter and face him.

He pointed to the letter in her hand, "Who's that from?"

"Oh, a friend," she replied, like it was no big deal at all.

Oh, a "friend." Yeah…Whatever. He realized that, sometime between the receiving of the letter and the falling on the steps, he had lost his cigarette. Aw, crap! "Friend?"

"Yes. We've known each other for quite some time." She held the letter gingerly to her chest, a sort of dreamy look overtaking her normally timid and delicate face. "It's been a while since we've heard from each other. We just got back into contact!"

"I'm happy to hear that," he said flatly. "So what? She comin' to visit or somethin'?"

"He," Shera corrected with emphasis. "And yes, he is."

"Where's he staying?" From the look on her face, he could grasp the concept of where this was heading and he quickly shook his head. "Forget it. He ain't stayin' here."

"But Captain—"

"No," he told her. "They have a real nice…cheap…hotel down at the other end of town. I'm sure the innkeeper would love takin' his money from 'im."

"Why not?" she pouted, her tiny cheeks puffed out and her eyebrows arched like she was going to release the waterworks or something. "We have plenty of room."

"One, this is my house, n' case ya forgot. Two, this house is a pigsty, Shera! We ain't gonna let guests stay over and admire yer handiwork!"

"I just dusted everything yesterday, Captain. And it wouldn't be any…"

He quickly turned and tipped a chair over. Then he stood over it and pointed, "See, Shera? Stuff falling down all by itself? Can't have any of that—"

"You knocked that over!"

"—can we? Now, for the last time, the answer is and always is gonna be 'no.'"

"Captain!"

He pointed a stern finger at her. "Dammit, woman, don't backtalk me! I said he can't stay here and that's that!"

It was only after she turned, ran back up the stairs, slammed the door to her room, and the pictures from sightseeing trips to Mideel fell from the walls did Cid's finger crumble in midair and his arm slowly return to his side.

"Stupid woman," he muttered, though his eyes strayed up the stairs. "What? She think that I run some hotel? Invitin' her frat buddies ta come and stay 'ere…They can both just kiss my ass." Giving a sharp turn, he stormed into the bathroom and violently threw the door closed, resulting in several more pictures to fall from the wall.

"SHIT!" he yelled from inside.

\/\/\/

Cloud was staring at his friend with a blank look on his face as Cid deliberately stomped on another tulip along the side of the road.

"Damn things choke the life out of the scenery."

Cloud knew that this was usually not the way the pilot would react to something as trivial as a flower. There was something wrong and…by the way that Cid had just hurled that rock at that passerby, Cloud didn't doubt that it was something serious.

"Stupid kid, hoggin' the damn street. What? He think he's fuckin' KING of the road or somethin'!?"

"Cid," the blonde ex-mercenary began, his lips running slightly dry. "Maybe you shouldn't come with me to run deliveries anymore."

"What, Spike? You think I'm not good 'nuff to help do yer damn business? You turnin' into Vincent or something?"

"Huh?"

"Dat's right," the pilot almost snorted. "He comes to my house yesterday ta help me with some stuff in the shed and he spends his whole damn time nagging at me 'bout how I gotta tell Shera something 'fore it's too late."

Cloud was lost now. He felt as though he had completely lost touch with Cid back when the man chased little Jimmy from across the street down the road because he had accidentally thrown his ball into the pilot's yard. Cid had been mumbling and grumbling since then, lighting cigarette after cigarette, and destroying everything that came within a two mile radius of him. The younger blonde tried to sidestep away from Cid slightly without drawing any attention to himself.

He was surprised when the man said nothing but looked to the sky instead, as though there were a lot weighing heavily on his mind. "Hey, Cloud?" the man began after a bout of silence. His voice was slightly calmer, which took Cloud aback for a second time.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Whaddya you think of predictions?"

"Huh?" It seemed like such an inane question, but Cloud was afraid to refuse to answer it because of the consequences. He's just now settled down. No sense in having him throw rocks at me. "Uh…I…believe…in them, I guess…" Cloud shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"Geez, they're the stupidest things in the world!" Cid's voice was loud again. "I mean shit! Vincent and his voodoo crap!"

The mercenary-gone-delivery-boy cleared his throat, straightening his collar. "What did he say?"

The pilot's head suddenly whirled around to meet Cloud's blue eyes. "He asked me if I was all right if Shera moved out and I said 'course it was and he asked if I cared if she found another man and I said fine and he said that I would lose 'er if I didn't shape up and…"

"Woah, woah, Cid! You're talking way too fast for me to understand you!" Cloud made a "timeout" sign with his hands. "Where is this all leading?"

"I'm tryin' to tell ya if you'd quit interrupting!" The younger man's mouth snapped shut. "Some letter came in the mail today with this nasty flowery scent and it was addressed to Shera from this guy named 'Bradley Richton' or what the hell ever…"

It made perfect sense now. Cid was jealous.

"Some guy? Like…a friend or something?" Cloud asked.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Like a boyfriend?"

"Shit! The hell if I know, Spike!"

"Well," Cloud rubbed his chin, still continuing side by side with his friend down the road. "Can I ask you a couple of questions?"

Cid's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure if I want ya to."

"Well…do you mind if she moves out?"

"Hell no! What? Do I hafta repeat myself?"

Cloud frowned. He's lying. "Okay, and if she found another guy?"

"Good riddance!" Cid threw his arm up like he was tossing something over his shoulder. "Maybe I can get things done sooner then!"

Faker. But for the sake of it, Cloud decided to play along. "All right then, Cid, I don't think you have anything to worry about. If you get lucky, then it will wind up being her boyfriend." Cloud tried to ignore the glare emitting from Cid's direction. Instead, he picked up his pace and said, "Let's finish up."

\/\/\/

Things went from bad to worse when Cid got home and found the place as dead as a doornail…minus the cliché. Shera was nowhere to be found, tea wasn't made, and everything was dark and dreary.

This was displeasing to Cid.

He flipped on the switch, glanced at his watch, mumbling a string of obscenities, and realized the time.

"Quarter past ten." His eyes shot up, the feeling finally settling in that he was alone. "Damn that woman. Where the hell did she get to?" Seating himself in his favorite recliner, Cid crossed one leg sloppily over the other, slouching back so that his arms were dangling off the side of the rests. He stared bitterly at the door, knowing that she had gone out.

"But with who?" were his words. She would never be out this late by herself. She got way too paranoid very easily, and she hated being out at night alone.

He only sat there for a moment before jumping out of his chair and rushing to the window and opening it. Too hot 'n here! Or is it jus' me? Then he began to pace back and forth, staring at the empty tea kettle from time to time. Damn woman! Keeping me waiting after a long day's work!

It wasn't like Cid was worried about Shera, because he wasn't, but it was her duty to do as she was told. He was the one who had to go to work everyday, make all the money, and all else that daily life required. The least she could do was be at home to make a cup of tea for him. She ain't yer wife, Highwind. Aren't ya expecting a little too mu—

"She lives in this house!" Cid justified it. "She can pull her weight and make me a cup of tea, too! I ain't gonna be the only one who does work 'round 'ere!"

Huffing, Cid reached for a cigarette, realized he was out, and cursed loudly. He stormed into his den, tore the drawer from the desk, and found a lone packet inside with two cigarettes left. All right! He smiled inwardly, relieved that he still had one bit of happiness left.

Walking back into the front room, he lit up, tossing the match into the sink as he passed, and looked back to the door. "Still not home. When she gets back, I'll—"

He was cut off as he heard the sound of voices coming from outside. Cid crept to the window and eavesdropped, realizing that the voice belonged to Shera.

"…not sure. I think he's caught onto me taking the mail. It's been a few days now, but I didn't know that he would go so far as to involve the mailman."

Cid frowned so deep that he thought his lips were going to be pulled off from all the weight. What!? So she's the one who's been stealin' the mail! Why I outta…! Straightening his back, he charged towards the door, hands balled into large fists, and swung it open just as Shera's hand was in midair, reaching for the handle.

Her eyes were wide, startled, and her glasses fell to the tiny tip of her nose. The female engineer's mouth was agape and Shera's arm slowly returned to her side. Cid's attention turned from her to her companion. He was a tall man (looked young, but age was often deceitful) with slick ebony hair and wore a three-piece suit. One arm was around Shera's shoulders while the other was stuffed into his pocket. He was a very handsome man whose remarkable aura made Cid feel out of place standing there in the doorframe.

He suddenly realized that his cheeks were burning with anger. If there was one thing that Cid hated besides not having his tea on time and being out of cigarettes, it was feeling out of place.

"Uh…uh…Captain," Shera began, her eyes vacillating back and forth between him and her companion. "This is Bradley," she introduced, using her hand to gesture to the clean cut man. Her voice evened when she looked at Bradley and announced, "Bradley, this is the Captain."

Bradley extended his free hand. "Hi, I've heard so much about you," the man said with such a bright smile that it just made Cid want to knock all of his teeth out. He would've had a great time laughing at the black holes lining the guy's stupid grin rather than those damn white teeth.

But he took Bradley's hand instead, mumbling a slurred, "Hey."

The younger man turned to Shera, pulling his hand back, but still kept his other arm around her shoulders. Cid watched Bradley cautiously, his eyes narrowing to thin slits. He took a second's notice to see that Shera was dressed up in a short black dress with high heels. She's even wearing makeup.

"We sure had ourselves a marvelous time," Bradley remarked. Even his voice was accented with some kind of upper class slang. "Marvelous." He sounds so stupid. "Didn't we, Shera?"

She nodded with a sort of enthusiasm that Cid had never seen before. He found himself stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Shera," Cid began, clearing his throat. "What about the tea?"

"Oh, that's right!" Shera clapped her tiny hands together, wrists jingling with several metal bracelets, and turned to her companion. "Bradley, would you like some tea?"

"I meant for me," Cid quickly intervened, leaning forward. "I have had a long day."

There was an uncomfortable silence exchanged between the three. Bradley seemed to swallow his smile, Shera's eyes were illuminated with puzzlement, and Cid simply stayed as indifferent as he could. It was his house and his rules. The younger man slowly (and wisely on his part, Cid thought) removed his arm from Shera's shoulders and replaced the body warmth on his hand with the sweat from the back of his neck. He tried again to smile, but his crooked grin showed much uncertainty. Bradley looked back and forth between the woman beside him and the pilot.

"Uh…No thanks, Shera. I appreciate your gracious offer, but I feel I must retire for the night."

"But Bradley…" she protested.

"You heard the man," Cid interrupted. "He needs ta get back to his cheap twenty gil room."

"Actually," Bradley straightened the tie around his neck, "the innkeeper gave me the best suite in the hotel. At a mere eight thousand gil, I'd say that he's undercharging me."

Cid's mouth dropped. E-Eight thousand FUCKIN' gil!? Who is this guy!? I didn't even know that that inn had a suite!

The younger man touched Shera's arm. "You'll have to come see it."

"Oh, I would love to! How about after—"

"Shera!" Cid intervened, his tone rising as well as his eyebrows and blood pressure. "Inside! Tea! Now!"

Her form was suddenly diminished to that of a microscopic bug, waiting to be crushed under Cid's foot. Her back slouched, almost like an old woman's, and she meekly replied, "Y-Yes, Captain…"

She quickly brushed past Cid and moved into the house, leaving him to stare at a very surprised Bradley.

"I…uh…guess I should go now…" the ebony haired man said, his voice undulating with fear, yet he kept his composure very well, Cid found. Bradley waved and gave a bow. "Nice to have met you, Captain."

Cid snorted and moved back inside of his house, nearly slamming the door. Yeah, get you and your stinky bow outta here, ya scaly toad.

"Shera!" the pilot began, his eyes still glued to the door, as was his hand. "The hell ya think you were doin' out so late!?" He finally found the strength to face her…or her back, at least.

"Bradley took me out to the club," she answered honestly. Of course it would be honestly. She doesn't have a lyin' bone in 'er body. "I…I guess I didn't see the time."

"Damn straight!" he spat back and then stomped over to his recliner, quickly sitting in it. "Made me wait 'n all…"

"I-I'm sorry, Captain…" she whispered, setting the kettle onto the stove. "Would you like dinner, too?"

"No," he snapped, "but I would like to know why the hell you've been stealing all my mail, woman! Made me waste my time by calling up the post office only to find out that you were the one taking my letters!" He folded his arms over his chest and glowered at her. She turned on the stove and seemed reluctant to look at him, but did so anyway.

"I always take the mail, Captain."

"You said you didn't have the mail for the past three days!"

She was fidgeting. "I…I was expecting something…"

"What?" he asked, leaning back in his recliner. "Yer letters from that…guy?"

"Bradley, yes," she replied. "I was going to tell you about him, Cid. I wanted to tell you that he was my—"

"Yeah, yeah, I already know who he is."

Friend…boyfriend…lover…betrothed…husband…

Her eyes lit up. "You…You knew?"

"'Course, Shera. I ain't bloody blind…'Least not yet."

She smiled again, her eyes glowing. He noticed her black dress again, how it fit so nicely around her figure, and how easily and smoothly it swayed when she moved. Even her hair was down, curled at the ends, and a little had been tossed over her shoulder, caressing one side of her face. Her makeup brought out her eyes and lips, he found, and he wondered how he had never known that she could do her own makeup.

Shera turned to grab a cup and saucer from the cabinet above, standing on her tip toes. She placed a teabag inside the cup and waited a few minutes longer for the kettle to whistle. Cid wasn't comfortable with the silence, especially when his mind kept reeling back to the man with ebony hair and a three-piece suit. Shera finally broke the silence, responding to his previous remark, though the time that had elapsed made the matter seem moot.

"Captain, that makes me happy. I thought for sure you would've thought something—"

"That don't mean he can stay here," Cid interrupted for the umpteenth time that night. She handed him his tea and he immediately seized the opportunity to sip from it. Man, that's hot.

"Oh, that's all right," she waved her hands. "He's leaving tomorrow."

Good riddance. "That was fast." He took another small drink.

"Well…I'm going with him."

PPPFFFFFHHHHSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!

"Captain!" Shera looked upon Cid's shirt and pants in horror, which were now stained a light brown. He coughed a couple of times, the tea he had spewed from his mouth dripping down his chin.

He ignored his new apparel and how hot the tea still was while he wore it on his skin.

"You're what!?"

Shera stopped in her tracks, blinking. "I…I'm going with him tomorrow."

He quickly rose from his chair, mouth and clothes decorated with tea. The cup was still in his right hand. His chest was burning. Probably from the tea, he thought.

"Where!?"

"He made reservations to go to Costa Del Sol," she hastily said. "Captain, you're soaked with tea. You shouldn't have tried to drink it when it's so hot!"

That's not why I spit it out, woman! "Never mind that, Shera, I want to know why the hell he plans on takin' you! No, wait, forget that! It's ridiculous! You ain't goin'!"

She placed her tiny hands upon her hips, slightly angry. "Captain, he already made the reservations. If he backs out now, he'll have to pay a fee for canceling. I won't ask him to do that!" Then she swallowed, as though the next part was hard for her to say, "…Not even for you."

"Gah!" Cid wanted to rip his hair out. He wanted to chuck the teacup at the wall and watch the remainder of the tea drip down the walls. Then he wanted to kick the table. How selfish could this woman be!? What about his wants!? His needs!? "Dammit, woman! What's supposed ta happen to me!?"

"I bought you some TV dinners for the next few days," Shera responded calmly. "You'll be fine, Captain."

"I said NO, Shera!"

"I've already packed," she argued, but without the fierce tone to match his. Damn! Why does she always have to be so freakin' subtle!? "I leave in the morning." She walked up to him, "Now, do you want me to take care of this mess or not?"

"I can dress myself, Shera!" he shouted, recoiling from her touch, and turned to storm up the stairs, an almost visible cloud of anger trailing afterwards.

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Please R&R. Flames will be used light roofs on fire. So please be nice.