Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the property of Square Enix. I do not own any of the characters except OCs.

Author's Note: Okay, this one-shot fits into the Cold Shoulder Series a few weeks after There Will Come a Day. However, it doesn't actually contribute much to the overall series. I wrote it mainly because I like messing with Vinnie, but for those of you who don't like seeing Vincent act WAY out of character, you may want to just back away slowly. This story is rated M for Cid's mouth and copious amounts of alcohol.

It sometimes seemed as if the entire world was conspiring to keep Vincent Valentine from a little peace and quiet. Whether he was finding and disarming bombs left around old battle sites, hunting down anti-W.R.O. extremists, putting up with Reno's shenanigans, or even just dealing the occasional rampaging Behemoth in need of a bullet between the eyes, there was always something or someone demanding the gunman's attention. He sighed as he entered his apartment and kicked off his shoes, tired from a long day of Turk duty and ready for the weekend. Was it really too much to ask for a Friday night with no monsters and no catastrophes - just him and the hyperactive ninja he had fallen head over heels for?

Apparently, yes. Judging by the newest text message he had just received on that gods-forsaken phone of his, it seemed he was once again going to be dragged off to places unknown, most likely even if he tried to refuse. Cid and Shera had just arrived in Edge to pick up an engine part for one of the pilot's latest projects, and Yuffie had called and invited them over to stay the night. Cid, being Cid, then decided it would be a great idea to try to get Vincent to go out drinking with him and let Yuffie and Shera have a little "girl time." The gunslinger was the only one of all their friends Cid had never managed to get to a bar, and since Vincent now lived just down the street from several of them it was the perfect opportunity. Sighing, Vincent typed a polite refusal and sent it to him. It took about five seconds to get a response.

~Aww, c'mon, Vince! D'ya really wanna sit there all night listenin' to those two hens cluck? Don't get me wrong, I love 'em to death, but when's the last time you just went out and shot the breeze?~

Vincent smirked, finding it interesting that Cid texted exactly like he talked.

~If I had to estimate, I would say it's been at least thirty years.~

~$*&#%*#$&?!~

~Cid, what does '$*&#%*#$&' mean?~ the gunman responded, wondering if this was some kind of abbreviation he hadn't learned yet. He really didn't know any "text speak" besides ROFL, and he was never going to use that one.

~It means I'm draggin' your skinny ass to a bar tonight whether ya like it or not. So you'd better just decide to like it.~

Vincent rolled his eyes, but decided it was better to just go along with whatever Cid wanted than insult him by continuing to refuse.

~Fine. But I don't really drink, so don't expect much from me.~

~Yeah, yeah, we'll see about that. Shera and I'll be there in a bit.~

"Hmm…" Vincent muttered to himself as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

An hour later, Vincent found himself being all but dragged down the street by Cid, who was really looking forward to getting to have his first trip to a bar in months. He had hoped that Yuffie would talk Cid out of it somehow, but to his surprise she had actually encouraged the two of them to go, saying they needed some "male bonding time" or some term like that which he was pretty sure she had just made up on the spot.

"Oh, well," the gunman thought to himself as he trailed behind the pilot. "Maybe this won't be so bad."

"That's the spirit!" said Chaos, suddenly deciding he wanted to make his presence known. "You should try to cut loose and live a little tonight, Valentine. It would probably do you some good."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping I'll do something to embarrass myself and you'll get to laugh."

"Nooo, I would never… And I'm insulted that you would even think that!"

"I don't believe you."

"Aww! You're awfully rude tonight."

"Just… shut up, please. I'm scary enough as it is without people thinking I'm talking to myself. And even though Cid is my friend, I don't exactly trust him to help me look any more normal."

"Uh, Vince?" Cid suddenly asked, stopping in front of the door to the bar he had selected. Vincent wasn't paying attention and almost ran into the pilot before he realized he was talking to him.

"Oh, er… Yes?"

"Ya might wanna cut out that whole 'talking to Chaos' thing once we get inside. The bartender might not wanna give ya anything to drink if he thinks yer already crazy." Vincent did his best to mentally cross his arms and glare at Chaos.

"You see? I told you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be quiet. Just go have some fun already, you little red raincloud."

The gunman sighed and followed after Cid, who had already gone through the door and seated himself at the bar. Vincent sat down beside him, choosing a seat with less light and fewer people around him. The music was loud and obnoxious and the whole place reeked of smoke, and even though it was only nine o'clock he could already see several people who had clearly had more than enough to drink. Cid didn't seem fazed by any of this, though, and ordered himself a beer while he searched around in his jacket for his cigarettes. Vincent just ordered a glass of wine, one of the only kinds of alcohol he had any liking for. Cid gave him a strange look when the bartender handed him the wine but said nothing, just opening his beer and taking a long swig of it before sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting up.

"So what's yer beef with bars, huh Vince?" he asked, blowing a smoke ring at his friend and grinning when Vincent batted it away irritably.

"I've just never really cared for them," he answered almost boredly.

"Whaddya mean? You hang around Seventh Heaven often enough."

"That's because Yuffie works there. I don't ever order anything but the occasional glass of wine."

"Nothin' but red wine? Boooriiing. And that doesn't really help the whole 'vampire' image either, y'know." Vincent narrowed his eyes, setting his glass of wine back onto the surface of the bar.

"Did you bring me here just to insult me?"

"O' course not! Jeez, cut out the PMS, man! I'm just sayin' it wouldn't kill ya ta try some o' the stronger stuff. Have a little fun once in a while!" Vincent sighed, realizing he wasn't going to be able to avoid insulting Cid if he kept resisting his attempts to be friendly. Reluctantly, he ordered a beer too, trying not to think about the taste as he sipped it almost delicately. Cid snorted beside him, and Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, taking another miniscule sip of beer. Cid just began giggling harder.

"Oh, nothin'. Nothin' at all, Vince." The black-haired man tilted his head in confusion but let the subject drop once he realized Cid wasn't going to tell him anything further. The two of them sat there in a companionable silence for the next hour, drinking their way through three beers each while they made small talk and watched the Chocobo races being played on an old TV hanging on the wall. Cid noticed that Vincent was looking less and less uncomfortable with the whole situation, and even chuckled aloud when one of the other patrons tripped over a chair and wound up sprawled across the floor. A little emboldened by the slight buzz he was beginning to get, Cid decided now would be a good time for a drinking contest. After all, so far he had managed to outdrink everyone else on the team, and he was pretty damn sure he could beat Vincent too. But how in the world was he going to get Mr. Sunshine to agree to that?

"Hey, Vince," he started, watching for any sign of suspicion in the gunman's face.

"Hmm?"

"Whatcha wanna bet I could drink you under the table?" Vincent raised an eyebrow, his red eyes widening a fraction of an inch; clearly he hadn't been expecting that question.

"I have no idea, but why would you want to do that?"

"'Cause it's fun! Why the hell else?"

"I don't think so, Cid."

"Aww, why not?" Chaos whined at exactly the same moment as Cid.

"I just do not want to." Vincent took a sip of wine, ignoring Chaos's frustrated mutterings while Cid glared at him. Suddenly a mischievous grin crossed the pilot's face.

"Yeah, guess yer right, Vin," he said slowly with a dramatic sigh. "After all, ya probably are a little too delicate fer the hard stuff." Vincent stiffened, lowering his glass to the table with a little more force than necessary.

"…Excuse me?"

"Well, ya kinda drink like a girl, ta be honest. Makes sense you'd be able to handle liquor like one, too." Cid grinned inwardly when the gunman took the bait, glaring at his friend with his gauntlet clenched at his side.

"So you think you stand a chance of out-drinking a Turk, Cid?"

"I know I do."

"Oh, really? Would you care to place a wager on that?"

"You bet yer ass I do. How's five-hundred gil sound?"

"You're on. And I'm picking the drinks." Cid snorted and rolled his eyes but didn't protest, thinking he'd probably pick some weak little fruity drink. This was gonna be a piece of cake.

"Barkeep," Vincent growled as he signaled the bartender with a wave of his brass gauntlet. "Give me a tray of Midgar Zoloms." Chaos whooped in Vincent's mind; Cid's jaw dropped a little. A "Midgar Zolom," named after the infamous monstrosity of a snake, was a double-shot of ninety-proof tequila mixed with a few drops of rum for color and complete with an agave worm at the bottom. They were definitely strong enough to knock a man flat on his ass if he did enough of them.

The bartender set the tray of twelve shots between the two men, and Vincent immediately picked one up in his flesh hand and tossed it back, coughing slightly as it burned its way down his throat. Cid did the same, grinning triumphantly when he managed not to cough at all.

"Ya sure yer up to this, Vince? It's not too late to back out." Vincent snorted and tossed back another shot.

"In your dreams."

By the time they both reached the end of the first tray of Midgar Zoloms and got halfway through a second one, both men had forgotten about the fact that they were supposed to be out-drinking each other. Vincent was holding his ninth shot and staring at the worm at the bottom as if he had never seen anything more fascinating in his life, and Cid was busy telling a story about Tifa that he could only barely understand.

"An' then when I *hic* asked 'er 'f they were real, she fuckin' punched me! Can ya *hic* believe it?"

"But y'know you're not s'posed to ask girls quest - *hic* - questions like tha'," Vincent slurred from his seat, waving his index finger at Cid in an attempt to look serious and ending up following it with his eyes instead. "'Specially when you're married."

"Yeaaah, but what man don' wonder 'bout whether they're *hic* real? Was jus' curious…" Suddenly Cid looked down at his shirt, tilting his head and appearing to be deep in thought.

"I wonder if I'd *hic* look good with boobs…"

Vincent was so taken by surprise by that statement that he shot tequila out of his nose, coughing and holding a napkin up to his face while he began to giggle to himself. Instead of hiding it as he usually would, though, he eventually ended up throwing his head back and roaring with laughter, his voice going higher than Cid had ever imagined it could as he cackled like a hyena. Cid just stared, his mouth hanging open, as the man he had rarely ever heard a chuckle from continued to laugh so hard he was turning red in the face.

"Hoo, boy…" the pilot thought as he watched the gunman continue to laugh hysterically. "I think I broke him…"

"Ahahaha… Ahaha… Aha… ha… ha… Eheheh… Oh, *hic* gods, Cid," Vincent said, wiping tears from his eyes when he finally got himself under control. "I dunno why tha' was so funnnnny, but i' was…"

"Yeh said it, man. Jes' hang on a sec, though. I gotta hit the – uh… what's the word…"

"Lavatory?" Vincent suggested, somehow still remembering bigger words than Cid even though he was much drunker than the pilot.

"No, not th' laboratory, they don' have those in bars. The uh… Bathroom! Tha's it!" The pilot hurriedly got off the stool and staggered toward the bathroom, barely managing to avoid falling onto a table that stood in the way. Vincent suddenly noticed two small objects sitting on the counter at Cid's seat: his cigarettes and lighter.

"Hmm… I wonder why he likes these s' much…" He opened the package of cigarettes, pulling out the only one left and sniffing it curiously. Well, it smelled okay… He didn't notice Cid coming back from the bathroom while slipped it between his lips, flicking the lighter open and touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette. Just before Cid could ask what he was doing, he took a deep drag from it, immediately choking on the smoke and hacking into his fist afterward. The blond just shook his head and laughed, patting Vincent on the back while he gasped and wheezed. When he had finally managed to get his breath back, Cid smacked the back of his head lightly.

"The hell're ya doin' with my cigs?" he asked, taking the now-empty pack and lighter back from Vincent and sliding them into his shirt pocket.

"Jus' - *cough* - jus' wanted to see what was s' good 'bout 'em," Vincent croaked quietly.

"Well yer not s'posed ta try inhalin' the whole thing at once, dumbass," Cid said, still chuckling as Vincent reached for another Midgar Zolom. "Uhh, Vince? Dontcha *hic* think yeh mighta had 'nough o' them things?" Vincent glared icily at him, his red eyes having trouble focusing on the pilot's face.

"Don't you drinking tell me when I've goin' had the… uh… What was I saying?" Cid sighed and slapped his forehead with his palm. He knew he had been hitting the stuff a little hard himself, but if he was drunk Vincent was plastered.

"Shit, maybe I shouldna challenged 'im like that," he thought a little too late. He looked back up at the gunman, who was now attempting to get himself off of the barstool and only managing to sway uselessly back and forth. "Vincent, are ya sure yer good to walk home right now? I think yer pretty damn hammered." He reached over to try to help his friend off of the barstool, since he seemed unable to get his feet under him properly, but Vincent shrugged him off with a quick snort of impatience.

"Cid, 'm fi - *hic* fine. I kin get *hic* up m'self." Vincent hastily got off of the barstool, giving a high-pitched and undignified squeak as he immediately fell backwards and knocked over someone's tray of vodka shots in a spray of alcohol that glittered beautifully in the dim light; needless to say, he was now liberally soaked with the stuff. The bartender glared at Cid until he reached into his wallet and paid for everything Vincent had just spilled; the blond sighed when the gunman just laid there and blinked dazedly up at him before beginning to giggle in a very Yuffie-like way. "Heeheeheehee… The *hic* room moved too fast…" he muttered, still giggling to himself as Cid reached down and helped him up. He tried to stand on his own but failed miserably and ended up having to lean on Cid with one arm held across the pilot's shoulders for support.

"Whatever you say, Vin. C'mon, let's get ya home."

"But… But 'm not ready t' go home…"

"Val - *hic* Valentine… I think you should lis'n to him… You're so dunk – uh, drink – uh…"

"Drunk?"

"That, yeah. You're so drunk that even I'm drunk."

"How's *hic* that pos'ble?"

"I dunno, but you're even hiccupping in your head. I think you've *hic* had 'nough."

"Guess so…"

"Hellooo? Vince?" Cid asked, waving his hand in front of Vincent's face. Vincent blinked dazedly before he broke out into a disturbingly cheerful grin.

"Wha'?" Cid asked, confused by the look on the gunman's face.

"I jus' remembered how to get home quicker." Before Cid could ask what he meant, Vincent had brought out Chaos's wings behind his back and tensed in preparation to lift off the ground. With a clumsy flap of the enormous wings, he attempted to pick Cid up and fly out of the bar. Instead, he missed the pilot completely and slammed face-first into the glass door, crumpling to the floor with a groan as he held his now bleeding nose. The way he slid down the wall reminded Cid remarkably of one of those sticky jelly hands kids bought in capsule machines. Several people in the bar burst into peals of laughter, and even the bartender couldn't help but giggle at the inebriated gunslinger. Cid sighed and knelt unsteadily beside his friend, helping him pick himself up as he grabbed a napkin and stuffed it into one nostril. Now in pain and thoroughly humiliated, he finally stopped resisting Cid and allowed the pilot to guide him out of the bar, leaning heavily on the shorter man who was barely steadier than him.

The two of them hadn't gotten far from the bar when Vincent began to sway a dangerously back and forth, his long legs wobbling like gelatin as he fought to stay on his feet. Cid pulled one of Vincent's arms across his shoulders, keeping the gunman from wandering into the street and just praying he could remember where Vincent's apartment was. It was only a short time later when Vincent slowed significantly, groaning softly as his face turned pale beneath the drunken blush.

"What's wrong? Are ya – whoa!" Cid swung around in front of Vincent and caught him as he tripped over his own shoes, somehow keeping the other man from face-planting into the sidewalk. "Ya okay?"

"No…" Vincent moaned, swallowing hard. "I think I'm gonna – uullgk!"

"Aww, fuckin' hell!" Cid shouted, his clothes and shoes now splattered with tequila-scented vomit. He sighed and turned the still retching gunman toward the edge of the sidewalk, holding him upright and keeping his long hair back while he finished purging the alcohol from his system into a storm drain. After a minute or two, he stopped gagging, still holding his stomach and groaning as he pulled himself together.

"Didn't anyone tell ya never ta drink on an empty stomach, Vincent?" Cid asked as the gunman straightened up, panting and wiping his mouth dazedly. Vincent shrugged, and Cid sighed. "Are ya done turnin' inside out fer now, at least?" He pitied his friend, but he was not the least bit pleased about being puked on.

"Yeah, I think so… Still dun feel well though…" Vincent muttered, his words slightly less slurred but his face still a tiny bit green. Cid just sighed again and looped the gunman's arm back over his shoulders, walking them both back toward Vincent's apartment. Where were his damn smokes when he needed them? Oh, right – Vincent had taken the last one.

"I know, man. Let's just get home so you can sober up and I can shower."

"Soun's good…"

"An' if ya hurl on me again I'm gonna kill ya."

"I don' think you have t' worry 'bout that…" Immediately after he finished speaking, Vincent's eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped onto his back on the sidewalk. Cid was almost worried until the gunman began snoring – loudly.

"You have gotta be kidding me."

By the time Cid reached Vincent and Yuffie's apartment, it was after midnight and he wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep for the rest of his life. He kicked the door a few times, unable to knock since he was still trying to keep a barely-conscious Vincent from falling over again. After a few seconds, the door creaked open and Yuffie peered out, followed by Shera, who had just put Rozalynne back in her crib when she heard the knocking.

"Oh, yuck!" Yuffie said, holding her hand over her nose as she caught a whiff of the two men. "How much did you guys drink? You smell like the inside of a tequila bottle!"

"Tha's prob'ly 'cause Vince here decided to puke all over me on the way home," Cid said irritably, handing Vincent over to Yuffie while he hurriedly stripped out of his shirt and held it far away from him. "Uh, and if ya don' mind… I think I'm gonna… go ta sleep now…" With that, Cid collapsed onto his stomach on the floor, snoring in his normal imitation of a chainsaw. Shera sighed and began helping Yuffie carry Vincent back to their bedroom. Cid would be less trouble if they just left him where he was…

When Vincent woke up the next morning, it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He could tell that he was in his bed, but how had he gotten there? He barely noticed Yuffie beside him; he was too distracted by the sudden feeling that his head was being squeezed in a vise. He could hear Chaos whimpering in his mind, apparently suffering from some type of demon hangover himself. The gunman groaned miserably, holding his head in his hands and closing his eyes against the unbearably bright light sneaking in between the slats of the blinds. Yuffie woke immediately, placing a hand on his chest and kissing his cheek.

"You okay, Vinnie?" she asked softly, not surprised when he groaned again and covered his ears.

"It's too loud… and bright…" he whispered, burying his face in the pillow. She sighed and got up in search of some aspirin, finally remembering that it was in the bathroom and going to fetch him a glass of water to take it with. As soon as she stepped out of the room, Cid burst in, letting the door slam loudly back against the wall and causing Vincent to moan piteously at the sound. Completely oblivious to his friend's pain, Cid strode over to the bed, carrying a plate piled with eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits and gravy.

"'Mornin' Vince! Want some breakfast?" he asked cheerfully. Vincent stared at the food for a moment before running out of the room and retching into the bathroom sink. Yuffie, who had just come back into the room, sighed and followed after him, holding his hair and rubbing his back until he had gotten his stomach under control again.

"Bit hung over, are we?" Cid asked cheerfully, grinning at Vincent while the gunman rinsed out his mouth and glared at the blond with bloodshot eyes.

"Cid, this is all your fault," Yuffie scolded, glaring at the pilot as she guided a thoroughly miserable Vincent back to the bed and began rubbing his shoulders once he had buried his face in the pillow again. "And could you please get that stuff out of here before you make him sick again?" Cid complied, returning in a minute with nothing but a glass of water, which Vincent ignored in favor of keeping his face away from any sources of light. Finally, though, Vincent's curiosity got the best of him and he rolled over slightly until he was just able to see Cid on the other side of the room.

"Cid… How is it you feel alright even though you drank as much as I did?"

"Lots and lots of practice, Vince."

"I hate you." Cid grinned.

"Well hate me or not, you still owe me five-hundred gil. I totally held my liquor better than you."

"Fine. My wallet's over there," Vincent said, gesturing weakly with his gauntlet as Yuffie cuddled up against him on the bed. "And Cid?"

"Yeah?" the pilot asked, gleefully extracting the money from Vincent's wallet.

"The next time you feel like some 'male bonding,' we're going to the shooting range."