Of all the ways to wake up, hung over, Cid decided that instant that this was the very worst, simply because of how utterly cruel it was to wrench him from dream land into hangover hell. He had been having a great dream too, about a handsome and horny man wearing exclusively his very large cape and a very tiny red G-string as he did a pole dance around Cid's spear, the Venus Gospel. He'd rolled over to give more room to the erection that the dream had been causing, only to feel something decidedly uncomfortable prodding under his tail-bone. Raising his hips and reaching underneath, he hadn't found anything on the bed that would cause the discomfiture, so he'd relaxed again, only to relax down onto whatever it was that had bothered him before.

The hip motion had also caused friction, pleasant, but unexpected as he usually slept nude. Deciding that the only way he'd figure out what was going on, Cid reluctantly prepared to face the hang-over he knew awaited him with the first touch of light and opened his usually blue eyes.

"You're feeling all that alcohol from last night now, aren't you Chief?" came a voice from just beyond Cid's immediate visual range. "I've been waiting for you to wake up. Here, I brought you tea."

Vincent appeared between the light and Cid's red-rimmed eyes, haloed and angelic looking thanks to the fluorescent globe and the gentle steam still wafting up from the very welcome cup he was holding.

Gratefully accepting the warm mug, Cid inhaled before taking a sip. Half the cup down his throat, and he felt human enough again to attempt speech.

"Thanks Vin. I got no idea what happened last night."

"Party here, at our house in Rocket Town, celebrating Yuffie and Reno's anniversary, since Godo still isn't on speaking terms with his only child due to his own childishness," Vincent prompted, smirking down at his own long-time lover and de-facto.

Cid's face dropped. "That much, I remember. Yuffie brought some of her damn hooch, didn't she? An' I'll bet her flaming red-head spiked the punch with it too," Cid growled, still feeling terrible, but less bad as he drained his tea.

Vincent nodded. "Correct on both counts. A couple of guests were out for the count after just three cups of the spiked punch. You, Cid, managed five," Vincent's tone was somehow both proud and slightly reprimanding at the same time.

Actually, Elena downed one before realising it for what it was, and grabbed Tseng as he was halfway through his third, dragging him to the guest room Vincent had given them. Cloud had nipped one and promptly stopped all liquid intake. Tifa and Rude had – eventually – passed out together on the couch. Rufus had only drunk water, as had Vincent. Yuffie and Reno had sipped at the same single cup each until they decided to retire to the other guest room, and at that moment Barret was passed out in the back yard for reasons completely unrelated to alcohol consumption, though he had drunk a lot.

"I did somethin' embarrasin' before I passed out, didn't I? Who suggested I do it and how much had I had by then?"

"Barret, you were halfway through your fourth, and the only reason I was unable to stop you was because Tifa was slurringly grilling me on Turk mentalities and wouldn't let me go until Rude slipped his hand around her waist and it was too late," Vincent answered, helping his lover up out of the bed and into the bathroom, where a shower would be the next part of the cure for the hangover, if seeing his own reflection didn't scare him sober first.

"A PLAYBOY BUNNY COSTUME?!" Cid yelled, catching sight of himself in the mirror. Well, at least now he knew what had been uncomfortable. That soft fluffy tail had something solid in the middle of it, that was for sure. A soft chorus of groans floated down the halls from the other slow-to-rise inhabitants of the house.

"You danced, sang, and half-way through your fifth cup you came and gave me a lap dance in that thing," Vincent said. "All of which you did extremely well by the way, but as sexy as the heels made your stocking-clad legs look, Cid, if you want this kind of kinky in our relationship, I'd rather if you left that role to me. You're just not feminine enough to pull off the bunny costume."

Cid was twice struck dumb and his jaw became progressively more slack as Vincent went on. His legs had been deemed sexy when combined with heels and stockings – he noticed he was still wearing the latter, and that they were black fishnets. It looked like his legs had been waxed while he was inebriated as well. Vincent had agreed to further explorations in cross-dressing kinds of kinky provided that he, rather than Cid was the woman . . .

Distantly, Cid was aware of Vincent laughing, and long hands peeling the bunny suit off him, lingering over his now very hard length.

"I mean it Chief, every word. Now let's see about getting you cleaned up and inside me," Vincent whispered, one hand still massaging Cid's pole while the other trailed a tingling line up to his chest, where it tweaked with a nipple.

An hour later, when they had finished love-making, washing, drying and were just snuggled up together on the couch in the living room, Cid found a stray question floating around in his mind.

"Hey Vin? Where'd the costume come from in the first place?"

"You will have noticed that it was actually a little tight on you Cid. I was saving it to wear for your next birthday. Of course, if you decided you didn't like it, I would have been just as alright with you ripping it off me."

All of Cid's blood went very suddenly in two directions. Some to his face, the rest to his member. The mental image of Vincent in the bunny suit, with the bright red cups and black torso, the fluffy white tail and cuffs, and the fishnet stockings ...

"I would never want to destroy something as hot as that, Vin," Cid said, his voice husky as he turned where he sat and started nibbling along the bite marks he had left on Vincent's neck earlier in the shower.

"I want another lap dance for my next birthday, by the way," Vincent said just before he gave himself over to his lover once more.

THE END