Warming Up

Sitting in his room on the Highwind—or rather, barricaded in his room—Vincent was staring at the clock, watching it tick away the hours to his doom. He'd escaped from Cid's clutches a second time, once again with Cloud's help, but Vincent found it difficult to be happy about it. He was still only prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later there wouldn't be a spiky-haired blond to create an escape route for him and Vincent would finally have to give Cid an explanation, be it the truth or a plausible lie…It was a shame that Vincent was coming up short in the 'plausible lie' department.

Briefly he'd thought of asking Cloud for his opinion, but not only had the blond helped him out enough already, he had also made the gunman slightly nervous to be alone in his presence. Cloud was more observant than he'd thought, and far more 'helpful' than he would have liked him to be. As a result, Vincent wasn't sure if he liked having Cloud on the ship with him. Yes, it was nice having someone close by who was able to speak in more than grunts and curses, but since the 'near kiss' back on land, Vincent wasn't sure if he trusted himself around the ex-SOLDIER. And not only that, if Cid got desperate enough, he might be able to pry some information from his fellow blond and Vincent certainly couldn't have that.

The bottom line was, Vincent was screwed, and all he could do now was await his demise, whilst praying for a miracle. Vincent didn't want to wish any misfortune on anyone, but in the back of his mind, he kind of hoped that Cid would somehow smack his head hard enough to give himself amnesia…or a concussion. But the gunman also knew that the thought was pointless, Cid's head was probably too hard to sustain any real damage.

Damn the pilot for being so hard-headed…and hard-bodied…and cocky…and…

Vincent flushed up, dipping his face further behind his mantle, hiding, even if there was no one around to see his blush. He hadn't just had naughty thoughts about the loud-mouthed pilot, had he? No. He had merely been thinking about the man as a fighter. Cid was a fine warrior. That was it. There had been nothing lustful about Vincent's thoughts. The blush and the flutter in his stomach meant nothing.

Nothing. It was just nerves.

Vincent jumped as there was a knock at his cabin door. He took a moment to swallow before answering. "Yes?" he called out; sounding slightly edgy since he feared it would be Cid at the door. He relaxed only slightly when it was Cloud who answered.

"Supper's ready," he heard the blond say, "And Cid says you have to come out to eat or else he's gonna drag you down to the galley and force feed you."

It was a threat, Vincent knew, but he couldn't face Cid so early. Already a tight knot had formed in the pit of his stomach at the mention of the pilot, and there was no possible way that he could eat. What little appetite he had had was long gone. He would just have to risk the pilot's wrath.

"I…can't join you for dinner, Cloud," Vincent replied quietly, hoping the blond would hear him, "Please apologize to Cid for me."

"Vincent…" Cloud said, almost anxiously, "I think Cid was being serious about dragging you to supper."

The gunman sighed softly and finally got up to answer the door, opening it only a crack in case it was all a ploy and the pilot was standing beside Cloud, ready to bust his way in. He relaxed minutely when he saw that his former teammate was alone.

"I'm not feeling well, Cloud," he said softly. "I cannot eat."

The blonde's brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need to go to the infirmary? You look pale."

Vincent shook his head. "I am always pale, Cloud. I just need some rest and some time alone. Please tell Cid that I will see him tomorrow."

Cloud looked unsure, but he nodded and slowly took his leave. Vincent closed and locked the door behind him, going back to sit on his bed. He knew he wouldn't be able to get the rest that he had told Cloud he needed, but at least he would get the alone time.

Or so he had thought until a few minutes later when heard a beast barreling down the hallway towards his cabin. He shot to his feet as his door shook violently thanks to angry pounding and his eyes widened as the roaring began.

"Vin! Open the hell up, or I swear to fuck I'll break the door down!"

No time to wonder when it was that Cid had completely lost his mind, Vincent hurriedly opened the door and jumped back as Cid launched himself into the room.

"Cid—" he half squeaked in shock.

"Don't ya fuckin' Cid me," the pilot growled. "Ya were told it was supper. Now march yer scrawny ass to the galley. Yer too damned skinny to skip meals."

Vincent retreated back a few steps, feeling the knot in his stomach cinch tighter. "I can't…"

"Can't what? Can't look at my face? Can't pretend ya don't hate me, Vin?" Cid stomped forward to make up the distance that Vincent had put between them. "Fuck what Cloud said. You hate me. I get it, but you can at least fuckin' try to sociable when yer on MY goddamn ship, Valentine. And I know for a fact that you haven't eaten anything but that fucking cup of coffee back at Tif's so yer comin' down for dinner. You got that?"

Vincent stared at him with growing panic, unable to respond. He couldn't explain why his nerves were suddenly going wild, but the calm, dignified Vincent Valentine didn't exist anymore, not that it had for an entire day now.

Shaking his head for no real reason, Vincent backed himself into a corner and shrank down to his knees, staring anywhere but at Cid. He barely registered the pilot grunting and walking over to him, but he flinched when he caught sight of the blond in his peripheral vision. The pilot was now kneeling beside him, looking completely surprised and lost.

"Vin?" he asked in confusion. "The hell's goin'…" he trailed off and put a hand on Vincent's shoulder, causing the gunman to gasp, "Fuck. You okay? Shit…Look, I didn't mean…what the fuck is goin' on with you?" He still didn't sound angry, but Vincent, even in his panicked state could distinguish the frustration and concern in his voice.

"Vin," Cid said his name again, sounding almost as gentle as Tifa. "I'm sorry. You don't gotta eat if ya don't want to. Geez. I wasn't tryin'a scare the shit out of you, but I'm fuckin' at the end of my rope here."

Vincent took a shuddering breath as his nerves began to wind down, only slightly, but he was no longer on the verge of hyperventilating. Somehow the change in Cid's tone had soothed him a little, though he still wouldn't risk looking at the pilot. He had to take baby steps or he'd end up running again.

The gunman figured Cid was relaxing as well since he took his hand off his shoulder and plopped himself on the floor beside Vincent. "You okay now, Vin?"

Vincent swallowed loudly and nodded his head jerkily. "Better," he whispered.

"Good," Cid nodded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it instantly out of habit. He took a drag and then cursed, remembering how Vincent felt about smoke. He began to apologize, but Vincent cut him off.

"It's fine, Highwind," the gunman said, his voice sounding almost as steady as usual. "It's your ship."

Cid grunted. "Yeah, but I know how ya feel about this shit." He made to stub out his cigarette on the floor, but Vincent took it from him and, pulling his mantle down, took a small puff, coughing immediately afterwards. He held the nicotine stick back out to Cid and the pilot took it from him, deciding on another few drags for himself.

"What do ya think yer doin,' Vin?" he asked, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.

Vincent took a few deep breaths before answering rather hoarsely, "I was curious."

"Yeah well. Don't be. It's a bad fuckin' habit to start."

The gunman nodded and stared down at the floor, falling silent as he unconsciously licked his lips, happy for the cover of his cloak. His mouth tasted like smoke, but it was Cid…and he realized that it didn't taste so bad.

"I'm fuckin' starving, so I'm gonna go eat," Cid said as he got up. "Galley's open if ya decide yer hungry. 'K, Vin?" Vincent didn't lift his gaze since he realized that he was blushing, but he nodded once.

"Alright." Cid grunted, heading for the door, but paused when he got to. "Vin? Can I ask ya a question?"

Vincent tensed slightly, but answered in the affirmative. "Yes…?"

"Do ya hate me?"

If Vincent hadn't known any better, he would have said that the pilot actually sounded worried, but he would set his mind at ease.

"No," he answered truthfully, "I don't hate you, Cid." And he really didn't.

"Good to hear," the pilot said with an obvious, and sudden grin. "Maybe we can talk after you've stopped PMSin' then?"

"Maybe," Vincent agreed and listened for Cid's quick goodbye before the door to his cabin closed and he promptly passed out, the stress finally getting the better of him.