Title: Knock on Wood (( Part Two ))
Author: TynDawn (( Aka Pon ))
Rating: M for this chapter, I'm not sure if it's right, but I want to be safe
Warnings(If any): Spilt paint and oodles innuendos o.o and a shocked and startled Vinni
Genre: Total Crack nn and A one shot type thingy (( Okay, I lied, it's more than a one-shot now ; ))
Pairing(s): Implied SephirothxCloud
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Square-enix and do not own any of the mentioned characters, places, etc... and am merely borrowing them for entertainment purposes, and will put them right back on the shelf once I am done.
Summary: Sephiroth, Cloud, and Vincent…painting a shed, things go a little awry…in a disturbing but amusing sort of way.

Author's notes: Honestly, this was meant to be a quick one-shot, but I decided to make it a little bit longer than that. I hope you all enjoy. And remember, reviews earn stories.

Even the not-so distant resonance of majestically tweeting and harmoniously peeping birds could suppress the unsettling sounds that began to rise and bubble up from within seemingly endless cavern that was the shed, and the poor, unfortunate Vincent just didn't seem to know what to do, nor did he fancy guessing what was going on inside there. Then again, in the backside of his mind, he in truth didn't need even one lone guess…or so he presumed.

Vincent could have sworn a thousand times over and again that he heard heavy breathing from inside the shed before him. Wait…it was Cloud. The dark-haired man's eyes twitched slightly, there was no question about the sexuality of the two men within the shed, but still…he had no idea. And all he could do was raise his eyes upwards and away from the shining wet paint. Perhaps he wasn't listening close enough, was there a chance that his mind had wandered and he wasn't hearing what he thought he was hearing? Surely he couldn't have been hearing what his ears indeed told him that he was…right?

Perhaps…just maybe, with the slimmest bit of hope Vincent prayed that Cloud had tumbled from a small stepstool, slipped a few discs, shattered his spinal column, couldn't get up and was being mocked by Sephiroth. Which could have been the reason for the unfathomably shallow and coarse breathing that was coming just beyond the fence-like barricade that was the rotting shack?

Vincent's head shook hastily from side to side in fierce denial as his upper chest began to tighten from those thoughts, trying gallantly to shake the vast depths of his brain of any unchaste thoughts of what those two just might be doing in the safety of that death-trap crafted of once fine oak, now lack luster. They were painting and tidying up in there, weren't they?

Then again, who was sent into a bit of almost raspy breathing and…wait, what was that? Undersized grunting.

Grunts and stifled grinding breaths that very well could have been the result of two lovers being wedged within the smoldering throes of unbridled and unreasonably feral passion. Or at the very least, this is the conclusion that Vincent's mind came to after the rather brief but all so intense bit of thinking that he did on the matter at hand. Whether or not it was completely or even slightly true. Still, he couldn't find any other truth in this.

Vincent's eye jerked unconscientiously, he just heard Cloud…give a light grunt followed by a paper-thin whimpering sound. Oh dear. Vincent swallowed roughly, he could feel warmth mounting in his cheeks; whether it was from mortification or merely the images that were now leisurely and yet all too quickly looping and curling their way into his head, he honestly didn't know, nor could he rightfully say.

Cloud's fingers stretched onward in a struggle to attain a unnamed something in the crook of a far-too-high shelf. The blond was pushed up onto the very toes of his boots; one arm towering above his head while his fingers fumbled and groped blindly for the object as his other hand was used to steady himself on a lower ledge just cutting at the line of his waist. Gnawing at his own lip, he gave a small grunt of annoyance and squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to elongate himself further to recover said article from the remote regions that Cloud was so close to reaching and overcoming by just the width of a solitary fingernail, or perhaps two for all he knew.

Ah, but Cloud was far too unwavering in his dauntless undertaking to renounce his doings, that or you could probably call him 'Bull-headed' and be able to get away with it flawlessly and without consequence. Still, he didn't lower himself from the shelves or move to pull away. Pressing himself against the shelves, lines of dirty powder stamped themselves onto the material of his clothing and gave birth to supple rustling sounds that must have alarmed Vincent all the more. One of Cloud's cheeks was found hard-pressed against the rim of a shelf, the blond chewing at his own lip once more just before his tongue peeked out at the juncture of his mouth, his lips finally parting with a small, "Ah!" as he felt just the bare tip of a fingernail scrape against the desired object, though he simply succeeded in nudging it beyond his own grasp even more so than it had previously been. "Almost there," He mumbled out in an edgy fragment of irritation to himself.

Unfortunately enough, Cloud didn't grasp just how dreadfully mistaken that expression could be, or the fact that an undoubtedly ill at ease Vincent was right outside and assuming that things within that modest tool shed were not as innocent and untainted as they were.

The taller male in the shed was kept busy at the other side of the tiny hut, using a rumpled cloth to brush away wretched particles and remnants of grunge, filth and sawdust along with other nameless and all so vexing micro-organisms. Upon hearing Cloud's noble and ongoing efforts go on for no less than three solid and all so concrete minutes, the older of the two twisted around in an amused manner, a finely tuned smirk set upon his placid features. The sleeves upon his shirt were drawn up, a delicate layer of filth covered him and even his cheekbones were dusted by a thin sheen of dingy air that couldn't do anything but bring more justice to his unsullied features.

"You know…you sound like you're on the verge of an orgasm. You wouldn't need any help, would you?"

Was Sephiroth's voice, intended for none other than the mulish flaxen-haired youth who whipped around on the spot and lowered himself to his heels, as he glared at the other tenaciously. Just like a mule, as always.

"I almost had it that time,"

The blond defended himself stubbornly with a glower that was, of course, not at all menacing or threatening in any manner to the man known as Sephiroth who stood before him.

"That's just like you, to never even bother asking for help with something that you know you can't do on your own,"

Sephiroth replied evenly before stepping ahead and to Cloud's side, reaching up with great poise, one arm quickly retrieved the renegade paintbrush that Cloud had been after. Cloud took the brush and stared up at Sephiroth with a look that showed he wasn't at all impressed with Sephiroth's advantage of being taller. It wasn't Cloud's fault he didn't have Sephiroth's stature. Though, Sephiroth would have completely laid the blame on him, and he knew this completely. It was his second nature to expect this.

Back in the realm of the outside world, Vincent did nothing but pause, the brush just a bare inch away from the surface of the half-painted wood, completely stunned. Eyes wide in a question he dare not speak, mouth slightly agape with nothing to say, nose giving a small half-disturbed and half confused twitch, as he stood there seemingly stuck like a small fly on a tab of sticky paper while the brush in his hand dripped in a calculated way to the grass below.

It went without saying that Vincent's mind was instantly flooded by dozens of images; some good, some bad, and some were more than disturbing. And he was thankful, so very thankful, for his strong constitution.