A new piece^^ Enjoy.

It had been a trying two weeks for Vincent. Beginning his rough ride through misery was Death Gigas deciding it was time to "break loose." He had woken up, naked and confused in the middle of the cemetery, next to a headstone bearing an overused Loveless quote. That actually had been what had clued him in on what had happened. The headlines the next day had been fun to read: "Monster Spotted in Local Cemetery: frightened tourists vow never to return". What exactly tourists were doing wandering the cemetery at midnight, he had yet to figure out. The plus side: Gigas would be content to slumber for a good long while. The downside, besides the minor stutter in the town's economy, Cid had teased him about it…ruthlessly.

The next little adventure – involving Hellmasker this time – had come in the form of a panic attack when Vincent had come back to himself, again sans apparel, in the basement of an abandoned, run-down mansion. Not normally a cause for panic, only minor upset for the completely ordinary fact that he was streaking around a decrepit old house in his birthday suit. No, rather what had put his ticker in a hiccup was the fact that he had been covered in blood…that was not his own. He had obsessed over the paper the following days and finally made the connection between a nearby chicken farmer's "mysterious poultry massacre" and a "ghoulishly haunted mansion." He had been relieved but for the little matter of Cid having dubbed him, "The Mighty Chicken Killer."

So when he had woken up, nude and curled up on the steps by the back door with a debilitating bellyache, he knew that Galian had gone hunting. Vincent looked down at the taught bulge and winced. While his body stretched to accommodate the Galian Beast's form, whatever Galian had eaten – which was usually rather large – never returned the favor. This left him in quite understandably a great deal of discomfort. In the past he had purged his stomach, seeking relief, but always Galian had reclaimed his body and gone hunting again, if not just re-eaten what he had thrown up. So he had learned that after a couple of days, his body could break down the massive amount of what could arguably be called food (most of the time he didn't even want to know what he had eaten) and be right as rain in two more. He was just grateful that Galian's feedings were very few and even further between. As Vincent lay there, curled around his belly, groaning, he couldn't help but wonder what Cid would say to tease him about this latest escapade. Especially when what he had eaten had been a bird, he discovered, picking the feather out from between his teeth. And taking into account the sheer size of Galian, it had to have been a ruddy chocobo. Vincent fought the urge to vomit. He was sick of the teasing, and he wracked his brain on how he might give Cid a dose of his own medicine. The epiphany came suddenly has he sat leaning against the door, slowly rubbing his distended belly. Gradually, an evil little grin spread over his lips. If he could pull this off, it could go down in the Turk history books for subterfuge and acting. He used the door and its frame to help himself up, wincing at the tightness in his stomach. He really hated this part of Galian. Quietly opening the door, he stuck his head inside and listened for Cid. Upon hearing the pilot grumbling at his drafting table, Vincent quietly slipped inside, nearly bashing his stomach on the doorframe. He dodged the frame, hissing at the close call, then made his way into their bedroom. Locating a soft pair of drawstring pants, he managed to get them on and around his stomach. He next pulled down a lightweight shirt and put it on followed by his thick bathrobe. Finally attired as comfortably as he could get, seeing as a chocobo currently resided in his digestive tract, he made his way out to Cid's drafting table. Snaking his arms around Cid's neck, he leaned in kissed the pilot's temple, "Hey there Papa Bear, what are you working on?"

Papa Bear? Eh…whatever. "Nothin' I can't put aside an' come back to later," he said turning to wrap his arms around Vincent. "Just early plans fer the renovation o' th'other house. Whatcha think? I thought we'd expand th'porch t'wrap around an'…what?" Vincent was looking at him with a vaguely dreamy expression on his face. He rested his head against Vincent's shoulder, leaving one arm around his waist and using the other to point at various points on the blueprints and explaining them. When he ran out of interesting points, he just nuzzled into the pale neck and returned his pointing arm to join the other. "Didja have something better for me t'work on in mind, uh…Honey Bear…?"

"Um, maybe," Vincent giggled (that was the first difficult thing of many he had a feeling he would have to do before the day was out, and in his head he sighed sadly for the sacrifice of his dignity, and hoped to hell it was worth it). "Look, Cid, I have something to tell you." He turned to face the blonde, biting his lower lip and smiling shyly, his face positively glowing (gods after this he was going to make a point to angst for a week just to purge his system of this fluffy garbage), "I can't hide it anymore. I did for a while, because I could, but I just can't now."

"Aw, fuck, who'd y'kill? Rufus? Cloud, maybe?" Judging by the way Vincent was looking at him, he had guessed incorrectly. "Well, uh…if that ain't it, what's gotch'in such a good mood?" S'fuckin' creepy. Maybe he's stoned'r somethin'. Yup, that must be it. "Say, Vince, that shit's bad for ya. Don't be takin' nothin' 'less y'got a prescription for it, hear me? An' I know y'ain't been t'no doctor, so you just quit whatever it…what, that ain't it either? Well…hell, just tell me, huh?" Cid stepped back and looked worriedly at Vincent, who held an undertone of that same glow even through the irritation. "C'mon, honey. I ain't havin' s'much luck with guessin'."

He had affected bored irritation, but was having a difficult time holding it. When he giggled again, it was almost genuine. "No, silly…" he said and took Cid's hand. "I didn't know how you would have reacted before, but there's no turning back now. Cid, " he put the pilot's hand on his bulging belly, "I'm pregnant!"

"Uh…, no, I don't think you are, honey. That, uh, that can't happen, y'know? Sorry t'disappoint ya an' all, seein' as y'were so excited. Heh, that would be kinda nice, wouldn't it? But we don't need that, we got each other. Y'don't hafta pretend…why y'look so upset, Vince? You are just kiddin', right? Ha, 'course y'are, y'gotta be. …Right?" Cid was starting to panic a little. Surely there was no way…a devious smile worked its way onto his lips. Vincent was trying to get his attention. Well, it had been a while. He dropped his voice and returned to Vincent's ear. "Show me," he whispered in a low tone, tugging Vincent toward the bedroom. He would find out soon enough what Vincent had stuffed under that robe.

Oh, this was too perfect. Vincent gasped and pulled his hand back, "Cid, no! We can't. Not until the baby's born. Oh, I so hope it's a girl!" He gave a little twirl. Careful, Valentine, not too thick now, he thought. But he was beginning to have a little fun, and was sort of getting into it. He moved into Cid's embrace and was a bit pleased to see the man lift his arms up, "Can't you just picture it, Cid? A little blond-haired, blue-eyed princess running around…what, you still don't believe me?" He let his lower lip tremble, "Well, here, look!" and he lifted his shirt and tugged down his pants to reveal the "baby bump."

"Hey, whaddaya mean we can't!?" Cid started to complain, but was distracted by the…twirling Vincent? He shook his head, and soon became distracted again when clothes started rearranging, revealing what most definitely was not something shoved under a robe. Cid's eyes widened quite comically and he stared at Vincent for a moment before snapping out of his stupor to place a hand lightly on the swollen belly. "Vince?"

Vincent covered Cid's hand with his own and nodded, smiling brilliantly. However on the inside, he saw the warning flag go up as Cid's eyes got that odd excited glimmer to them. Okay…phase two. "Oh! I nearly forgot. Sweetie-pie, we'll have to have a baby shower now. There are so many people to invite! I don't know where to begin! And you'll have so much food to cook!" He went over to Cid's drafting table and rummaged around until he found a pad of paper and a chewed-on pencil. He went over to the sofa and sat down a little too hard for his poor overstuffed stomach. He winced and groaned. Oh, crap that hurt! he thought. He set the pencil and paper down and rubbed his stomach until it stopped feeling like his guts were rearranging. Picking the pencil and paper back up he began writing, "Okay, let's see…of course the girls will have to come; Tifa and Yuffie will be aunts! And Shera! She'll be soooo happy for you…for us! Oh how exciting, they'll love coming over to baby-sit. Of course we will have to invite Uncle Cloud and Uncle Reeve and let's not forget Uncle Barret and dear Nanaki will have to play "chocobo" when she's old enough." (He snickered inwardly at the irony of this) "What you think of making Reeve the godfather, Cid? Cid?"

"I think…well, shit, we got time, don't we? Don't gotta do it all at once, right. B'sides…y'don't even know f'it's a girl yet." An' I sure as hell ain't plannin' no shower an' cookin' fer all them assholes an'…the hell're we gonna do with a kid? "Vince…you sure about this? I mean, y'sure y'ain't just…y'know, puttin' on a little weight?" He winced as soon as he said it, knowing how rude it sounded. "Uh, not that y'look fat or nothin'…well, I mean there's th'obvious…oh, hell. I give up. But even if y'really are…we are gonna make some sorry-ass parents."

Oh, I got this, I got this, Vincent thought gleefully as he forced tears to his eyes. He was the bane to his mother's existence with this particular skill growing up, "You-you think I'm…fat?" He put the pencil and paper down and covered his face with his hands and willed the tears to fall, "I thought you would be happy, Cid!" He let loose a delicate little sob, "I thought I'd be a-a good mother." He looked up out of shimmering eyes, "And I couldn't think of a better father for our baby." Ooo, careful now, Valentine…gotta work it…He eased himself onto his feet, which was a trick seeing as that damned bird wanted to lay sideways and poke into his spleen. When he finally got up onto his feet he half-turned away from Cid and spoke softly, "I-I thought you would want a baby shower, that you'd be proud of what we created together. But I guess I was wrong." He sniffed and waited to see what Cid would do.

…how long's this emotional shit gonna last? I want m'Vin back! "Now didn't y'hear me say I don't think y're fat? An' I don't mean y're gonna be a bad mo…daddy, just…we don't know what the hell we're doin' with ourselves half the time. An' y'gotta admit this is…well, it's a pretty damned big shock. Shit, Vincent, if y'really are tellin' th'truth…I'd be so happy t'have that with ya." Cid wrapped his arms around the apparently sobbing man from behind, resting his chin on the shaking shoulder. "You can't even know how happy it'd make me if we could. But I came t'terms a long time ago with th'fact that I won't ever have that typical fam'ly. M'havin' a hard time now thinkin' of it any other way." We sound like one o' Shera's fuckin' soap operas… "Honey, don't be upset. I'll come aroun', right? Always do, don't I? I even almost like the damned cat now," he pointed out.

Wow, that was close, Vincent thought has he got his barely repressed laughter under control as Cid set his chin on his shoulder. He turned in Cid's arms and wrapped his own around the man, careful not to scrunch his stomach in between them. That…would hurt. "Oh, I know you would, Ciddums. And I know this is a shock. How do you think I felt when I finally figured it out?" He gazed deeply into Cid's eyes and smiled, "It certainly explains why I've been feeling sick every morning. And before you say anything, I haven't told you because I know how you worry," he said with pursed lips and tweaked Cid's nose gently. "Now!" he said, making Cid jump a little, "I'm hungry. You know what sounds really good right now? Pickles and peanut butter, do we have any?" He pulled away from Cid and headed for the kitchen. He would have loved to seen Cid's blinking, blank face, but he had a pretty good idea of what it looked like.

Cid's eye twitched. The goofy nicknames were going to drive him up the wall very quickly. The cravings, he could handle. He would cook anything Vincent wanted at any hour of the day anyway just to make him happy. That happened already on a semi-regular basis. But the peanut butter was not where it had been when Vincent had last left it. Cid reached into the drawer of the table beside the couch, removed it, and brought it into the kitchen, where he saw Vincent jump at the sight of him and open the pickle jar. "Here's the peanut butter," he said, grinning. If Vincent actually ate this, Cid had a feeling he might throw up a little in sympathy.

Oh. Shit. Vincent thought with a threatening-to-rebel stomach at just the smell of the pickles alone. He had seriously thought that they were out of peanut butter. He actually felt like crying right now. But he was a Turk! And Turks…don't…quit. Whoever coined that phrase and made us live by it, needs to have their kneecaps broken, he thought with a growl. He flashed a beatific smile at Cid saying, "Thank you my Ciddy-kins," then through slightly clenched teeth but still with a smile, "I thought we were out of this! Boy am I glad I'm wrong!" He took the peanut butter and pickles and went to the table where he sat like a man condemned. Please Gaia, don't let me vomit, he begged silently. But when he saw Cid's smug face settle across from him, his smile returned and he "kissed" at Cid, dug out a pickle spear, scooped up a glob of peanut butter and without hesitation shoved the whole wad into his mouth. He bit down and froze at the utterly vile taste combination that coated the inside of his mouth. His chewing mechanism was having a hard time getting started as his gag reflex was dying to have some air time, but he managed to get it chewed and swallowed while actually looking like he enjoyed himself. He added a completely unnecessary and vacuous flare by bouncing a little in his seat and saying around a full mouth, "Yummy. Would you like to try some?"

"Uh…no, I don't think I do. Thanks anyway. Look, great as ever'thin is an' all, I prob'ly oughta get back t'work." He had seen enough. Vincent was lying, he was certain…Cid just had to catch him at it now. Besides, he didn't think he could go on watching him consume such horrible things. "So…when d'we wanna start spreadin' th'news?"

Uh-oh, he's onto me, dammit! Vincent thought. This was going to have get serious now. He was so concerned about his little ruse that he completely forgot about the pickles he was eating. Munching thoughtfully, he dipped a spear into the peanut butter and pointed it at Cid. There was a twinge in his stomach and he shifted painfully. "You know, I really would have figured you'd be a little happier about this baby. I get all excited and you just stand there like some big idiot. Look, whatever, you go do your thing and I'll take care of the 'spreading of the news' since clearly this is not as big a deal to you as it is to me." He screwed the lid back on the pickles and peanut butter and looked at them startled, "You know, that's not half bad? It was nasty at first, I'll admit it…but damned if that's not actually appealing right now?" Okay, that freaked him out a little. "Leave these out will you? I may have to have some more later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and put my feet up. I'm not exactly feeling very well right now." Isn't that the gods' honest truth! he thought wryly, as with one hand on his belly he walked into the sitting room and lay down on the couch with a small groan. It felt a little better. With a squeak, Hodge jumped onto him and with a hiss he roughly pushed the cat off, "NO! Hodge!" He said, rubbing his stomach, "Ow." He put his arm over his eyes and said to Cid, "You're not working…or do you think I'm lying?"

"Vincent…you can't be pregnant. Know what? We'll go see a doctor t'morra, an' then I'll b'lieve ya." At least, Cid thought, he's startin'a act a little more like Vince an' not some chick. "Well, Mr. Mighty Chicken Killer, I reckon you c'n handle yerself all right s'long's I leave out the pickles an' all that. Gonna run down t'the hardware place an' put that paint on order. That's another thing. We ain't gonna be able t'live in it while we're workin' on it like we planned. Can't have all them fumes gettin' t'the…" Aw, hell, I almost admitted there is one, didn't I? With that, he checked his wallet and strode out the door, holding it open for Hodge. Keeping him as an inside cat had just not worked, so he was allowed his freedom. "Be back in an hour or so."

"Cid!" Vincent yelled, a little more shrilly that he usually did and Cid's head poked back in the door, a concerned look on his face, "bring Dr. Haverston when you come back. I don't feel right." Vincent winced, holding his stomach. All jokes aside, he didn't feel right, "Tell him I'm calling in that favor, so he had better get himself here, okay?" Cid nodded and his head disappeared again. Once Cid had been gone for a while, Vincent shifted around on the couch and wrapped his arms over his belly. After about twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling and trying to convince himself that he wasn't dying, he fell asleep.

Cid contacted Dr. Haverston's office first to let him know that Vincent was feeling ill, and that Cid would stop by to pick up the doctor on his way home. He chatted for a while at the counter of the shop, explaining to Ralph that Vincent was trying to pull some sort of crazy trick. The whole store, Cid included, burst into laughter when Cid elaborated on what the gag entailed. "An' then 'e starts fussin' at me fer not believin' 'im, an'…aw, hell, he's a trip sometimes. I dunno what th'hell's got into 'im. Well, fellas," he said, wiping tears from his cheeks, "I better get on home, make sure 'e ain't gone inta labor." This sparked a fresh round of laughter from the "fellas," and Cid made his exit then, taking his supplies and slapping an extra five-gil note on the counter just because he was in a good mood. When he passed the doctor's office, the small, balding man he had come to respect was waiting outside.

"Your Vincent sick, is he?"

Cid snorted. "Somethin' like that. You'll see, c'mon. It's a good story. Just wait 'til y'hear 'im tell it."

His stomach had cramped the whole time they were gone and Vincent was thinking that the whole pregnancy spiel wasn't really worth this. He'd managed to find a comfortable position, which had him curled awkwardly with his face to the cushions when Cid and Dr. Haverston walked in the door.

The elderly doctor's fluffy eyebrows rose nearly off of his forehead when he saw Vincent, clearly in pain, curled very nearly into the fetal position. The reclusive ex-Turk had opened up to him as they had gotten to know one another over the years and Dr. Haverston had come to both sympathize and admire the unfortunate man. So he knew that Vincent never got sick in the traditional sense that everyone else did. He walked over and sat on the ottoman by the couch and touched dark-haired man's shoulder, "Vincent?" he said softly. "It's Dr. Haverston. Do you think you could roll over onto your back for me?"

Wordlessly, Vincent did as he was asked, wincing as the load in his stomach shifted back onto his kidneys. He smiled wryly when the good doctor's mouth dropped open and he breathed, "Oh my," upon seeing his distended belly.

"Trust me doctor, you have no idea."

Movement to his right captured Dr. Haverston's attention and he looked over and caught Cid smirking a little smugly, and the man frowned. He knew these two, and he knew how Cid could get and that Vincent was the last man who deserved to catch was Cid was pitching. Turning back to Vincent he reached out toward the shirt covering Vincent's stomach. "May I?"

Vincent nodded and prepared himself to be touched, which wasn't easy, "Yes, just-just be careful. It hurts." He pulled his shirt up and the Doc was careful to abide by his wishes. At first the elderly doctor just ran his hands over the skin of Vincent's stomach, then very carefully began to palpate lower toward his groin and back toward where his kidneys should have been. Vincent saw the man frown, which caused his own brows to furrow. He watched Dr. Haverston reach over to his black bag and take out a stethoscope, place the buds in his ears and begin to listen to Vincent's stomach.

Finally, after some more gentle prodding and listening from different areas on the stretched expanse of skin, Dr. Haverston removed his stethoscope and sat back only to look at his knees a moment before saying to them both, "Well, this is…most unique. I don't know how, and without a full battery of tests that can only be run at my clinic to be absolutely sure, I have to say that you two are going to be having a baby."

Blinking and feeling all of the blood rushing out of his face, Vincent lifted his head with a jerk, and together with a startled squawk from Cid they both said, "What!?!"

Cid sank onto the couch where Vincent's feet had been, head in his hands. He peeked through his fingers at the baffled doctor. "When c'n we come in? T'morra? Not t'day, 'cause me an' him needa talk a little more, I think." So Vincent had just been playing this whole time, judging by the surprise in his voice. Dr. Haverston left, and Cid turned to Vincent, letting his hands fall away from his eyes. "Shit, Vince…c'mere." He moved closer and tried to take Vincent into his arms, hoping they weren't still supposed to be mad at each other.

He let Cid wrap his arms around him, completely numb…his shock, complete. Very few things ever frightened Vincent Valentine, but this one probably ranked at the top of the list. He started to shake as he whispered, "That's impossible. I cannot get pregnant…it is biologically impossible for me to bear children…" he was having a hard time breathing. It was impossible, wasn't' it? He was a man; the plumbing was all wrong. But then again, he was experimented on, altered, and when he had reviewed Hojo's files on him there had be conspicuous gaps…maybe he could get pregnant. He moaned and dropped his face into his hands and said miserably, "What are we going to do with a child? We know nothing about children…hell, even half the time we don't know what we're doing with us!" He was utterly unaware that he was spewing Cid's own words back at the man, but as of right now, Cid was the last thing on his mind. Then the fierce ex-Turk did the one thing to make his humiliation complete…he cried. He sniffled, snuffled, boo-hooed and hiccupped as he turned into the one thing he had vowed he would never become…melodramatically emotional. "My life is over!" he wailed quietly.

"Shhh, we'll be all right. You'll be all right." Well ain't this a pretty case o' be careful what y'wish for. "Think about it! What'd y'say earlier? A pretty little girl runnin' aroun', ribbons in 'er hair an' all. Wouldn't that just light up this place?" He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself for Vincent's sake. "Look," he said, rubbing his palms up and down shivering shoulders, "we c'n get through anything, me an' you…an' if I c'd take the pain for ya, y'know I would." He kissed Vincent's neck, holding his lips against the smooth skin for a few moments. "You know I ain't goin' anywhere. You're gonna be just fine. It's all gonna work out." That bastard Hojo.

"Light up this place?" Vincent pushed Cid back and stared at him in disbelief. "That is what we have light bulbs for. Look, it was cute when it was fake…but I think you're missing the big picture here Ciddums. I'm pregnant. Preg-nant." He emphasized the "t", "As in knocked up, anticipating, expectant, gestating, gravid, in the family way, preggers, with child…" He paused in his nearly delirious rant to stare intently at Cid, eyes fairly blazing and narrowing dangerously. He pointed a long finger right into Cid's face, "YOU…." he hissed. "This is your fault! You did this to me!"

He wriggled back from Cid and managed to heave himself to his feet, all good sense (and intelligence) completely gone. The levelheaded Turk had fled the scene of the emotional train wreck. Vincent paced for a few seconds in front of Cid, muttering and giggling to himself before turning back to the pilot and saying, "You just had to stick me with that thing, didn't you?" He pointed to Cid's crotch. "Over and over and over and over…" he turned away still mumbling, grabbed the peanut butter and the pickles on his way out the front door to sit munching moodily on the porch swing.

Takes two t'tango, honey. Asked for it, didn't ya, over an' over' an' over an'…well, that ain't gettin' nowhere. Cid stood and cautiously headed for the front porch. Sighing, he took the pickles away from Vincent and placed them out of his reach. "Vince," he said as he sat between his lover and the jar of pickles, "we'll figure it all out. There's lots o' things y'gotta stumble yer way around, right? An' y'can't pretend everything's always come easy fer you. An' it really ain't fair, y're right, that you hafta deal with it…but y'got my permission t'make it as miserable for me as y'want, okay?"

When Cid had removed the pickles from his lap, Vincent had made a little disappointed sound, as he watched them go away. But he still had the peanut butter, so he began fingering out globs and sticking them into his mouth while he glared at Cid as the man talked. Finally when Cid was finished, Vincent said around the peanut butter, and pointing at his belly for emphasis, "Yeah, well you don't have to have to try and walk around with this and keep it from hitting things because it hurts!" Then he huffed, pouting, "I want my pickles…"

Cid huffed back at him and relinquished the jar, knowing that refusing to do so would be as good as going back on the promise he'd just made. He did a quick calculation in his head as he handed over the pickles. "Shit, Vince, y're at least two an' a half months along! How th'hell've we not noticed?" He snagged a pickle from the jar, guiltily ignoring the shocked glare it earned him. "What? I c'n stress eat too. Sympathy pains," he explained around a mouthful.

Vincent sighed as he shoved a pickle into his mouth and looked down at his gravid midsection, "I don't know, Cid." Then he said quietly, "I don't think I can do this…dear gods, it's going to kill me." He moaned, "What happens when I go into labor!" He felt panic threatening to rise again, and leaned over painfully to lay his head on Cid's shoulder.

"I tell ya, it'll be fine. Modern medicine an' all that. They'll make it work. An' we got a good doctor, after all." He sat there with Vincent a few moments more before bringing one hand down to tap his knee. "C'mon, put 'em up here." Cid slid down the swing and took Vincent's feet onto his lap when he swung them up high enough. He started slowly, gently, then began pressing harder with his thumbs and covering more space with each stroke. He worked from the heels to the toes and back again, alternating feet every so often. "How's that feel?" he asked, but Vincent seemed to have dozed a little.

Vincent cracked an eye and smiled, "That feels wonderful, Chief." He shifted to get more comfortable. The rubbing had succeeded in moving his obsession away from the immense discomfort in his gut, "Just don't stop." They stayed that way for a little while in silence, Cid rubbing his feet, and him watching his lover. Finally he said softly, "Cid?" When Cid paused and looked up at him, Vincent gently placed his hand on his belly, "what do you hope it is?"

Cid resumed his motions, softer again, and considered for a moment before replying, "I'll love it no matter what. Comes from you an' me, an' that's what matters, ain't it?" He lifted Vincent's legs a little and bent himself awkwardly to kiss the feet he still held. "An' anything we made t'gether's bound t'be beautiful." Cid stood, grabbed one of the wicker chairs on the porch, and set the chair next to the swing, facing it. He sat and brought his hands to Vincent's shoulders, squeezing and massaging there too. "An' we're gonna make it a real happy kid, Vin, me an' you. Sure, we ain't got no experience, but that ain't gonna stop us from bein' good parents."

Vincent hummed in pleasure, leaning into the rubbing, "I wasn't kidding when I said I couldn't think of a better father for a child to have. I have no doubt that there is enough love in your heart for this. I have to warn you though; red eyes run in my family through the male line. My father had them too." He swayed under Cid's touch, letting his eyes fall shut. Suddenly a thought came to him and he couldn't resist an impish grin, "And speaking of warnings, when the baby comes you'll have to quit smoking…and drinking. That's not a very good role model for the young, not to mention the swearing. That will have to go too. I want the child raised properly, with good manners and etiquette."

"But Vince…a boy's gonna grow up doin' all that shit anyway. An' b'sides, y're contradictin' yerself. Y'say y'can't think o' nobody better, an' then y'say I can't do all the sh- stuff I been doin' since y've known me. How's that work, hm?" he teased, leaning forward to catch Vincent's lips in a kiss. "I can't promise too much, but I'll try. S'at good enough?"

He delved into Cid's kiss, eagerly accepting the advance before pulling back and sniffing, "I suppose it shall have to do. I'll be around to enforce the rules. And no, all boys do not grow up doing that. I didn't. Does that make me any less of a man…well," he looked down wryly at his stomach, "besides the obvious, that is?"

Cid chuckled softly. "No, I guess it don't. But any boy o' mine's bound t'grow up fightin' an' breakin' rules. If red eyes run in your fam'ly, that's what runs in mine…'cept it don't seem t'be too particular 'bout the gender," he reflected, and suddenly had a brief vision of a dark-haired girl with blue eyes laughing up at them, new white party dress covered in grass stains and mud while Vincent groaned and mourned the loss of the rather expensive garment. He grinned. "Y'know, I think I really would like a girl. Cantcha just see that, Vin? Oh, he- uh…heck, s'what I meant…that'd be somethin'. But I won't hold it against y'if that ain't the way it turns out." He kissed Vincent again, more forcefully this time. "Y'sure we really can't 'til it's born?" he whined. "'Cause Vin…that's more'n half a year. Ain't right t'make a man go that long without, y'know, somethin'." He sighed. "Oh well. I'll manage, I guess. Hm…what's fer dinner, honey? An', uh, see if y'c'n pick somethin' I'll eat too."

Vincent groaned as he felt his cock twitch appreciatively at Cid's more aggressive kiss, "You will not be the only one suffering in that regard, Cid, I assure you. But…" he leaned into the pilot, reaching down between the man's legs to cup and squeeze certain parts of a very aware anatomy, "…there are ways around that." He leaned in to nip Cid's earlobe. "I've been told that I have a pretty talented mouth." He murmured into Cid's ear and grinned when the blonde shivered appreciatively. But first…dinner." He sat back and tapped his chin thoughtfully, "How about a nice tuna dish, with lots of ketchup…and bacon on the side. Doesn't that sound good, Cid?"

"Mm, yeah, sounds real good…only I think I'll have mine without th'tuna…an' the ketchup…but if that's what y'want, it's done." He helped Vincent to his feet and led him inside before joking, "Now who exactly's been sayin' what about that mouth?"

The night had not been a pleasant one. For either of them. Cid had insisted that he sleep in the bed, and of course he couldn't get comfortable and tossed and turned, flipped, flopped and huffed until Cid had said it was enough and that he was going to sleep on the couch. Even Hodge was seriously debating the decision of sleeping with him, hunkering down on the corner of the bed and periodically eyeing the door. With about two hours left in the night he had finally found a position that gave him some relief: sitting up. He had crammed both his and Cid's pillows behind his back and he was leaning against them with his chin on his chest when he managed to doze off.

Cid's night, as mentioned previously, was no better. They hadn't even fooled around the way they had discussed, because somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, either he or Vincent –his sleep had been so broken and restless that he could not remember which of them it was- stumbled upon the idea that a developing baby absorbs whatever its mother consumes, and that thought was too freakish for Cid to think about continuing. He had sighed and put his arms around Vincent instead, trying to get him to sleep. The elbow to the gut he received not five minutes later preceded the first of several apologies. He counted until thirteen, and then grunted and announced his retreat. Hodge soon followed him and somewhat reluctantly curled up on his chest, snoring. Cid reflected that he was probably purring, not snoring, but it was loud either way. He tossed and turned enough to rival Vincent, and ended up falling asleep face down in the cushions before waking up ten minutes later to claws digging into his back. After reaching four A.M. and never succeeding in staying asleep for more than half an hour at a time, he simply gave up and sat on the porch with a cigarette. A few puffs into it, he looked down at the burning end, remembered the baby and the promise and the withdrawals he was certain to have, took a final drag, and crushed it into the ashtray, sighing heavily. "Kid better appreciate this," he grumbled, and the bedroom light clicked on a few minutes later.

Now his back hurt as well as his stomach, which put him into a sour mood. Vincent stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself and stood there unable to do so, instead looking down into the white porcelain bowl and fighting an incredible urge to throw up. After he managed to produce something that resulted in relief for his bladder, he washed his hands and dragged himself out onto the porch to sit down rather heavily next to Cid, "Morning." He grunted, electing to leave off the "good," as it was anything but.

"Mornin'. I'd offer ya coffee or tea or somethin', but those ain't good for ya. Th'caffeine, y'know? Guess we'll just hafta start wakin' up the normal way." Cid groaned inwardly. He had just volunteered himself to give up tea. Maybe 'e won't notice.

"Good idea," Vincent yawned, scratching his stomach. "I want a beer." He muttered under his breath.

Cid chuckled and laid his head on Vincent's shoulder. "I'll bet y'do. But none o' that. 'Sides, that wouldn't wake y'up anyway. When y'wanna try t'go see the doc? I know he won't see us 'til after nine. I think we oughta go soon's we can, dontcha think?"

Vincent pulled his shirt up over his belly and slumped, glaring at it. "Yes, we should go…" he broke off and let his head fall back and whined, "…but I don't want to walk that far." Normally he loved walking everywhere and had pushed that they not buy a vehicle, which Cid had reluctantly agreed to. Now they were both so used to walking that the issue of transport never came up. He cursed that decision now.

"Well, I'll carry ya, then. You just don't worry yer pretty little head about it." Cid placed a hand tentatively on Vincent's belly. It didn't seem quite as swollen as it had the day before, but he wasn't going to say anything that might worry Vincent further. "Carry, uh, both of ya, I guess."

Vincent rolled his head over to look at Cid and smiled, "I appreciate that Chief, but I hope to come out of this with some dignity. I'll make it. Just," he heaved himself to his feet, "let me go and get some clothes on."

Cid grabbed his wrist. "Now hang on a minute, it ain't hardly six. An' it ain't like it takes more'n half an hour t'…well, I s'pose we c'n haunt th'front o' the buildin' while we wait. An' go out fer breakfast, if y'want."

"Oh," Vincent said distractedly, then thought about going out to eat and he paled. He did not want anyone seeing him like this. Cid tugged on his wrist and Vincent let him pull him onto his lap. "Well, with the way I'm not exactly wanting to move, it might take us three hours to get there. And I-I'm not really thrilled about the idea of being seen in public like this." He hated anything "public" anyway; this just made it worse.

"Eh, y're right." Snuggling Vincent like this often proved to be difficult, as Vincent was already taller. But in this slumped, defeated state, he fit perfectly. Cid sighed happily into his hair. "Guess I'll just hafta make ya somethin', won't I? What'll it be? Baked potatoes w'chocolate chips or some crazy shit like that? Or maybe just some good ol' fashioned chocolate chip pancakes? We even have the milk y'like this time, 'cause I remembered."

Vincent grinned, and nestled more into Cid's arms. He liked this, and would have to make more of an effort to do it more often. He wrapped his arms around Cid's waist, "I was thinking chocolate chip waffles with strawberries over the lot of it…" He nuzzled Cid's neck. "…You remembered. That's my Papa Bear."

Cid winced. Did they have strawberries? He hoped so. He sat up taller and pulled Vincent into him a bit more. "Y're not hungry right now, are ya? This's just gettin' good." Suddenly Cid remembered with something like glee that they did have strawberries; lots of them, because he was planning to experiment with dessert sometime soon. And, for once, Vincent's good suggestion didn't sound so bad. "You just let me know when y're ready, an' I'll get right on it. You c'n pick out the best berries for ya while I'm cookin' the waffles."

"Hn," Vincent murmured softly, eyes drooping a bit, "perhaps in a little while. I'm enjoying this. When's the last time we just sat together?" He began running his hand over Cid's chest, finding a nipple and teasing it erect. "We've been so busy doing other things that we don't just don't spend time together anymore. Do you remember when we found that little spring and waterfall at the back of the property?" He thought of all the projects that Cid had going and the shipping runs the pilot had been going on every week or so, not to mention his own plans that he had…

"Heh, 'course I remember. We spent what, five days or so out there, huh? Got ever'one all worried 'cause we left everything here an' just took off. Wish we c'd do that again. Maybe once this little one's old enough t'be dropped off w'Shera, we will." Cid closed his eyes as Vincent's hand played over his chest. So familiar, but no less excitin', he observed, and tipped his head back and away from where Vincent's head was still resting. "Has been a while, huh? That's it; t'morra, we're lockin' ourselves in our room all day an' we ain't goin' nowhere. That sound all right?"

"Yes," Vincent breathed. He was becoming aroused, and he didn't need that right now. He really didn't need that right now, so in a effort to keep himself from throwing Cid onto the ground and screwing them both blind, he sat up and kissed Cid's cheek, "I think I'm ready for those waffles now."

"Mmph…" Cid let out a small sad noise when Vincent left him, but he cheered up at the thought of waffles. He followed Vincent into the kitchen, handed him two baskets of strawberries to pick through, and poured some of the waffle batter into the iron. He had learned to always have some mixed, the way Vincent enjoyed them. He added in the chocolate chips just in time for them to mix in without melting entirely, just the way they both liked it. "How many y'think y're gonna want?"

Thinking for a second, Vincent said around a mouthful of strawberries, "Two I should think. I was ill when I woke up, but now I could eat a…" he was going to say chocobo, but wisely (and frantically) pushed that thought far-far-away. "Hn, well, I'm hungry."

Cid shook his head at the red juice dribbling down Vincent's chin. "Y'might wanna take care o' that 'fore I do it m'self," he chided, and returned to the waffles. He brought the first one to Vincent and immediately started on another one, bringing it also to Vincent when it was finished. He made two for himself and sat down across from Vincent, snagging a few of the strawberries Vincent had snubbed. "I think m'gonna go check on Boko an' the girls on th'way in. That all right w'you?"

Vincent made a face, "How about on the way back? Being around that smell so soon after eating, I would hate to lose these waffles. They'll keep until then."

"A' right. But I'll bring you back first. Y're prob'ly gonna be wore out by th'time we get home." They finished the rest of the meal, and Cid washed the dishes while Vincent dressed. By the time both were ready to leave, it was nearing seven-thirty. "Well, guess we're as ready as we're gonna get."

Their walk into town was slow and steady with only a minimal amount of complaining on Vincent's part, he was rather proud of himself actually. He had worn his cloak so that he could pull the ends around his stomach when they walked through town, but since hardly anyone was out at that time he hadn't needed to. His stomach was still upset, but not paining him like it had yesterday. When they got to Haverston's clinic, the doctor was already in and seated at his desk, just as Vincent had known he would be. There was a large plastic bottle sitting on the corner of the man's desk. He had to fight to keep his strides even and not hurry. Relief was almost upon him. He let Cid enter first and when the elderly doctor saw who had entered, he picked up the plastic bottle, which rattled loudly, and chucked it at Vincent, who caught in mid-flight. Sighing happily he walked over to lean against the wall, opened the bottle and popped three of the chalky tabs into his mouth, mourning the loss of the chocolate/waffle/strawberry flavor with a wince. "Thanks, Doc," he said with an evil, little impish grin.

"Thanks what?" Cid asked, then saw the twin smiles on the two other men's faces. He felt his own fall into a scowl. "All a big joke, huh? Well, that's real nice, ain't it? Real good way t'treat me, both of ya. An' t'think I put up with all yer whinin' an' complainin' past two days. Fuck this. You c'n walk back yerself." Cid turned on his heel and exited the building, walking briskly to the stables. He greeted all his girls in turn: Sandy, Cindy, Mindy, and Hazelnut; then walked the rest of the distance to Boko's stable. When he found it empty, his heart sank. Could he have gotten out? No; the gate was latched and there was no room to jump over it. He had raised the black chocobo from an egg and had had him nearly two years now. He wouldn't have run, except to the house to meet Cid. He dragged his feet on the way home, feeling that he had discovered the source of Vincent's "baby bump." When he reached the house, he sat on the steps of the front porch, holding a beer, smoking, sighing, and feeling quite sorry for himself.

After reassuring Dr. Haverston that all would be well, Vincent took his time going home. He knew what Cid would find when he went to check on his chocobos and he winced in shame. He saw the pilot sitting on the front steps drinking and smoking and he walked up and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry." He said softly, not looking at Cid who studiously returned the "favor", but continued to scowl and send up puffs of smoke, "I didn't know Galian had eaten Boko until it was too late." He wanted to touch Cid, comfort him because he knew how much that rotten bird meant to the pilot, but he knew that Cid would just shrug him off. "But I'm not sorry for the rest of it. I did it for a reason." He looked off down the road, taking a deep breath then letting it out slowly, "You haven't asked for it, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Cid, I can take a joke as well as the next man, hell, I've put up with you for this long haven't I? And I know how you get. The Chicken Killer nickname…I could deal with it. I didn't like it, but I dealt with it. But when I draw the line is when I walk into town to buy supplies, and am laughed out of the store with that rotten nickname and imitations of Gigas. No one knows about my demons, Cid. I have taken great pains to keep people from knowing. And…" he broke off and looked down at his clasped hands in his lap, "…and after the Hellmasker incident…when I was just trying to get out of town, I ran into that chicken farmer, and he spit into my face. That really hurt, Cid. So before you accuse me of betraying your trust, you examine that accusation carefully and then decide if you want to fling it."

Cid placed a finger over Vincent's lips. "You know you mean more t'me than that damned bird. Didn't we talk about this, Vince? Y'gotta speak up. How'm I sposed'a know f'it's botherin' ya if'n y'don't say nothin' 'bout it?" He scooted closer, placing his hands now on Vincent's upper arms. "I wasn't ever gonna accuse you o' betrayin' me. Y'know I c'n take a joke as good as anybody…well, mostly. I was just…I dunno, I was pissed 'cause I believed ya, I guess. Upset with m'self fer fallin' for it more'n I was upset wi'you." He couldn't help but think that Vincent should already have known these things. "An' fer what it's worth, Vin, I didn't start off talkin' 'bout any of it. An' I sure as hell didn't mean for it t'get so outta hand. They'd all heard about it anyway, th'papers an' all. Just one day one o' the guys mentioned it to me an'…well, m'ashamed t'admit I started laughin' with 'em stead o' tellin' 'em t'back off. I ain't tryin'a excuse m'self. I was wrong fer that, an' I'll admit it. By th'way, I heard about the farmer an' gave 'im a piece o' my mind an' took a few o' his teeth." Smiling softly, Cid shrunk away to where he had been before. "M'sorry. Here I am, tellin' ya t'speak up an' then talkin' through ya when y'try. You weren't done, were ya? Go 'head."

Vincent smiled sadly, "Cid, I did talk to you about it. You said that it was just harmless fun, that I 'know how you get around your friends' and that I was 'overreacting'." He sighed. "Anyway, it's done now. And while I appreciate your defending my honor in regards to the farmer, I think perhaps assaulting him was a bit much." They continued to sit quietly, the tension between them noticeably lighter. Vincent removed his cape and tossed it up and over the railing that ran around the porch. He unscrewed the plastic bottle of antacids and popped two more into his mouth with a shudder, "Gods these are truly awful! Well, if it helps, Galian has learned his lesson. You need not fear for any more of your chocobos, Cid. When I walked by the pens coming back I had the overwhelming urge to run away." He chuckled then snapped his fingers, "which reminds me…" he got to his feet and held out his hand to Cid, "…come with me."

Way t'make me out t'be an ass. I don't even remember this. Damn, we really do need t'get away, don't we? Slowly, he took Vincent's hand and allowed himself to be "helped" up. He didn't know where they were going, but it had to be better than the puddle of self-loathing in which he was currently wallowing. "Vince? Screw lockin' ourselves in th'room t'morra. We're takin' this weekend t'hit the hot springs up Icicle way. Been a long time since we been up t'that cabin we had built."

"Yes, it has been a while." Vincent said as he led Cid out to the chocobo pens and barn. At Cid's curious look, he smiled and walked into the barn, turning left down a narrow hall to the end and through the door found there. The room was dark and he flicked a switch, turning on a small overhead light to reveal a bulky-looking machine against the far wall. "It's an incubator," he murmured at Cid's query, "Boko was young and this was his first breeding year. I managed to salvage these four eggs. I candled them, and they are fertile. None of the hens were setting, so I sort-of built this. It's not very nice, nor efficient, but it works. The chicks inside are thriving. I thought perhaps one of them might be a bull." Vincent looked down and away awkwardly, "I did this when I began eyeing the birds. I should have recognized the signs, so I could have somewhat stopped Galian…." He trailed off, blushing, "…I should have said something, warned you, but…" damn but this is uncomfortable, he thought irritably. He hated babbling.

"You didn't hafta do this," Cid mumbled, his eyes sweeping over the machine. Specially since I had one on order, but I ain't gonna say nothin' 'bout that...or about th'fact that a chocobo hen'll sit on anything y'give 'er anytime so long as she thinks it might hatch eventually… He smiled and walked toward it, peering at the eggs inside. One of them was a little larger than the others, and Cid knew that to mean it would indeed be male. "Come see, Vin. This one here…that's him. Shell's thinner, an th'egg's a little bigger. Can't tell th'color yet, but I c'n always start over wi'that. Thank you," he said sincerely, wrapping an arm around Vincent's waist as they stood together looking at the soon-to-be chocobos. "Guess we'll hafta sell th'other three, though. Don't have room for more'n one more, an' that spot's reserved fer th'new guy." Better cancel that order right away…

They stood there for a while, Cid holding Vincent, watching the mind-numbing inactivity of eggs just sitting there before Vincent said softly, "I meant everything I said, you know." More silence. "You would be a good father, because you are a good lover and a good friend. When you're not being an ass, you make me feel so very special and not like the freak that I am. I cherish every kind thing that you do for me. I want you to know that, Cid."

Cid smiled and tilted his head up to kiss the corner of Vincent's mouth. "I'm glad, Vince. An' I remember everything y'do fer me, too." He released Vincent's waist and took his hand instead, pulling him in the direction of out. "C'mon, let's get outta here. Gonna have nightmares 'bout giant eggs attackin' me or somethin' if we keep standin' here." They made their way back to the house, and Cid collected his empty and not-empty bottles and tossed them into the trash bin. "No use drinkin' if I don't wanna drown somethin'," he explained to Vincent, whose eyebrows raised at the sight of Cid throwing away alcohol. "Okay, plus it prob'ly wasn't so good anymore. Sat out open an' all that." He led them into the house, where he dropped Vincent's hand and looked at him. "M'sorry, Vince. I really am."

A corner of Vincent's mouth quirked up, "I'm impressed, Highwind. I thought I'd never see you actually throw away alcohol." Then he grew more serious. "All is forgiven. Though I would ask that perhaps you think a little more before you speak next time." He walked over to the couch and sat down heavily, wincing as the last of Boko put a 'period' at the end of their apologies. "I see what you mean about black chocobos…they don't like anyone else alive or dead. I paid for my little 'joke', in full." He settled more comfortably with a grunt and rubbed his stomach. "You know, if I ever act like I did again? I want you to take Cerberus, aim carefully, and shoot me where it won't grow back. I have no pride left whatsoever."

"Now, we both know I can't shoot worth shit. I'd just end up takin' off yer pretty face, an' that'd be a damn shame." Cid took his seat on the couch and stretched. "You oughta feel better soon, I reckon. Ain't much c'n keep ya down long." Smiling, he asked, "Want me t'rub yer feet again? I know it musta been awful hard, walkin' all that way." He snickered, then became thoughtful. "Know what this made me realize? I'm ashamed of it, but I guess I ain't treated ya like somethin' special in a while. 'Cause all that shit I did for ya when I thought y'were…well, y'know…I oughta be offerin' t'do it fer no reason every now an' then, an' I just ain't. But I really do think…well, y'really are special to me, that's all." Cid huffed and looked away. They had dealt with too much sentimental stuff for his liking today.

"When you thought I was what?" Vincent asked, raising an eyebrow even as he thumped his boots down onto Cid's lap, causing the pilot to "oof." He laughed softly, "And since I'm technically still 'pregnant'," he looked at his stomach, "I'm excused for being emotional when I say that you make me feel special every time you look at me, how's that? Now how about those feet…"