Crimson clashed with crimson as Vincent Valentine scowled and glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, in his room on the Highwind. His left eye was watering—not because he was crying, though. There was something in his eye. He could feel it. Leaning in for a closer look, he glared at himself a little more, then spotted the culprit.

An eyelash.

An eyelash was making his eye water so badly. He gave a look of disgust and reached a hand up to rub his eye, only to stop quickly when he realized the rough action made it worse. Sighing, he stared at his reflection for a few more minutes before turning and striding out of the bathroom, then the room. He briskly headed for the helm, and the only person he would trust near his eyes—Cid Highwind.

Why even have eyelashes if they caused so much irritation?

He slammed the metal doors leading to the helm open, storming across the wooden floor, and stopping behind the blond. A few curious looks were thrown at him, and he glared back in return, narrowing his blood red eyes in warning. Brushing a strand of raven hair over his shoulder, he tapped on the pilot's shoulder. Cid jumped a good foot or so, whirling around quickly, fist raised. His cigarette toppled to the floor when his baby blue eyes landed on Vincent's watery crimson gaze.

"The fuck ya cryin' for?"

"I am not crying. There is an eyelash in my eye." Vincent snapped. He pointed to his watery eye, then gestured vaguely at the blond. "Please remove it."

Cid gaped for a minute, then burst out laughing.

"What, may I ask, is so funny, Highwind?"

The blond held up his hand to keep the man silent as his laughter died down. "Fuck, Vin. I've seen ya morph and get shot an' everythin', and ya ain't never cried."

"I am not crying." Vincent gritted out, irritation slipping into his voice.

"Alight, alight, ya ain't cryin'. Lemme see."

Vincent leaned forward ever so slightly, and Cid—with a roll of his eyes—grabbed the man's cloak and pulled him closer, examining the watering red eye. The sudden tug caused Vincent to stumble forward, knocking both he and Cid to the floor. After the initial shock of falling—Vincent Valentine never fell—he noticed the rather unfortunate position they had landed in. One knee was between Cid's legs, and the other was next to his right leg. He was, for lack of a better term, straddling the pilot's leg. A few quick steps told him that the crew that had been inhabiting the helm had rushed out, likely to avoid the explosion of expletives Cid would release.

Only it didn't come. Cid sat up quickly and tugged on Vincent's cloak once more, keeping a gentle grip as he examined his eye. Vincent swallowed quietly at the close proximity, hoping the blush slowly creeping across his face wasn't noticeable. He watched Cid's brow furrow in concentration, his blue eyes slightly narrowed. After a moment, he gently rubbed his thumb over Vincent's eye, pushing the lash towards his nose. He repeated the action a few more times, then withdrew, holding out his thumb to the gunner.

"Better?"

Slowly, quietly, Vincent released the breath he didn't know he had been holding and glared down at the eyelash. He nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"Now ya gotta make a wish, Vin."

Vincent paused in the process of untangling himself to climb to his feet, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

"Ya know, an eyelash wish?" The eyebrows raised further, and raven hair moved swiftly as he cocked his head in confusion. "Fuck, ain't ya ever made an eyelash wish?" A confused shake of the head. "Make a wish, and blow it away. Somethin' like that, I think." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head with his other hand.

"Does it come true?"

"Hell if I know."

Vincent was silent, crimson eyes narrowed on the eyelash that had been causing him pain all morning. After what seemed like hours of silence, Cid turned his hand to drop the lash to the ground—only to be stopped by the taller man, who reached out a hand and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He watched, eyes wide, as Vincent leaned forward and closed his eyes, blowing the lash from his finger. If that hadn't been shocking enough—really, he couldn't remember the last time Vincent had ever been that gentle with anything—the gunner then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Cid's with so little force that the pilot didn't even realize it until Vincent was climbing back to his feet and on his way across the helm.

"H-hey, Vin!" he called out suddenly.

The gunner turned, eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"What'd ya wish for?"

Cid's breath froze in his throat as he watched a smile graced the pale lips. "You."

And with that, Vincent strode back out of the helm, back to his room. Cid sat frozen on the floor for a few minutes longer until his crew trickled back in. Then he climbed to his feet, shouting orders and swears. Internally, though, he was smiling like a madman.