Inn rooms were always the same. Oh, sure, they came in a wide variety of sizes, and sometimes they were nearly bare and other times cluttered up with every ridiculous knick-knack the proprietor could find, and sometimes they had a fireplace, or a fantastic view out the picture window, or a lingering odour that couldn't quite be identified. But inn rooms always felt the same. They just...did.
Cid Highwind considered this, sitting on the edge of a blue-covered bed and squinting thoughtfully at the walls. They were off-white, faded from whatever brilliant ivory they had been by nothing more than time. Thin grey streamers of his cigarette smoke curled lazily upward, vanishing into the darker corners along with the fine cracks in the plaster. In between the two neat little beds was a nightstand made of some cheap-looking type of wood, and it bore a lamp that he would likely need to turn on soon. There was nothing hanging on the off-white, finely cracked walls; there wasn't enough space. Cid had seen closets bigger than this particular inn room, but the price was right, and at least his roommate was tolerable.
Ahh, yes, Vincent. Of all the AVALANCHE members he could have gotten stuck with, the aviator was glad to share his rooms with Vincent. Kind of a spooky guy, but he was quiet and intelligent, and he listened (or at least pretended to) when Cid had something to talk about, and he didn't complain about the tobacco smoke and he didn't snore. All fine qualities to have in a roommate. There was something about the ex-Turk's presence that Cid found comforting, like he knew his back was covered. That was probably from the countless times Vincent had saved him in battle with a devastatingly accurate gunshot. Damned if he didn't envy that...
Door hinges squeaked protest, and black and red entered the corner of Cid's vision.
"Hey, Vince." he said casually, "You get sick of the kids runnin' their mouths, too?" The pilot glanced about and scooted over the bed to the nightstand, tapping cigarette ashes into the plain slate ashtray there.
The door closed with a series of gentle clicks, but Vincent's golden claw stayed resting against it, delicately so as not to damage the wood.
"Cid, we need to talk."
"Yeah? 'Bout what?" Cid asked his teammate's back, taking a last drag and then extinguishing the spent cigarette.
"Don't act like you don't know what I mean."
It sounded like something a woman would say, and that scared him. But before he could even gain the presence of mind to swear colourfully, Vincent turned to face him, sincerity welling as he continued.
"Can't you feel what's been going on between us? This bond, this connection...? The way you silence my demons and make me whole again...?"
In what seemed like one smooth motion, the other man had crossed the space between them, opened the heavy buckles of his collar and settled into Cid's lap, all soft touch and close contact. The pilot finally managed a coherent thought.
"What the f-"
Fingertips against his lips silenced him, and then slid teasingly along the blond-stubbled line of his jaw.
"Shh... I know what's in both of our hearts." A flush had spread over Vincent's snowy-pale skin, and his voice had fallen to a trembling whisper. "And that's why I'm asking you to make me yours tonight, Cid." He really did have pretty eyes, that exotic crimson colour, so big and glittery...
...Wait. Big, glittery eyes? A sudden and highly emotional seduction attempt? Faint memory came back to Cid, some story he had heard about a very special variety of curse. One where strong-spirited, attractive men journeyed into the mountains and then were never the same, suddenly becoming weepy and clingy and gayer than a pride parade. Of course, he had dismissed it as hogwash at the time, but Cloud had led them over enough desolate peaks, into enough battles with strange creatures and spells... A cold chill ran through Cid, and he realized it; he was staring into the sparkling, tear-filled eyes of the FemUke status condition.
He knew what he had to do. His spear lay on the floor across the bed, and one of its Materia slots held the healing power of Esuna. It was just a matter of reaching it... Cid shifted back, finding it difficult under the other man's weight. The hand on his jaw slipped around to the nape of his neck, toying maddeningly with the fine hair there.
"Please...?" Vincent murmured.
"Uhh, yeah, Vince, I'll...always...uhh... Oh hell, just c'mere."
Grasping the gunman around his slim waist, Cid made a lunge across the bed, reaching for his Venus Gospel. Vincent whimpered in surprise and drew closer, obsidian hair spilling over the pilot's chest.
"Ohh, Cid..."
If only he weren't being so damned distracting...! Warm and close and begging to be touched... Groping for the floor that he couldn't quite reach, Cid gave a pained grin.
"I'm not goin' anywhere, just gimme a second here..."
"We've got all the time in the world, love." purred Vincent, leaning in.
Cid's fingertip came in contact with the shaft of his spear, and that was enough. He tapped the Materia it held, sending cool teal waves of Esuna magic through Vincent, watching the glitter and tears fade from blood-coloured eyes and slowly be replaced by awareness.
"...Highwind?" They were still nose to nose, intimately close, and Vincent's blush only grew worse. "Did I... I'm so sorry...! I-I shouldn't have..."
It was so rare to see this much emotion coming from the quiet man, first the enchantment-driven need and now the downright adorable state of embarrassed confusion...
"Ah, it's okay."
There was a moment where they just stared at one another, Vincent frozen like a spooked animal and Cid not minding the closeness so much anymore. And then the gunman scrambled up and bolted for the door.
"Hey, Vince."
He stopped as though time magic bound him, hand on the doorknob.
"If ya ever actually wanna roll in the hay... Let me know."
The room was terribly quiet. And then, so softly that Cid could barely hear it, Vincent replied, "I'll keep that in mind," and vanished from the room.
He stayed there a moment, then the aviator shook his head and sat up, fishing a fresh cigarette from the box held in his flight goggles. Vincent would be back. To share the room for sleep, at least. Hopefully Yuffie wouldn't harass him too much about his blush first. Cid looked back to the inn room wall, grin reemerging. He needed a little more time to contemplate life.