Notes: Between the new job and the wedding planning, I've been so stressed that writing coherently is a thing I haven't been able to do. However, because of the very nice review in my inbox on the day I had set aside as a writing day, I decided to work on this first.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate it~.
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Because he was such a kind and caring person, Cid made certain that everyone on board had a cup of tea before they started discussing what to do next. From the airsick ninja and the brooding vampire to Tits Mcgee and the talking dog-lion thing, he pushed a cup into every hand. He even snarled to Reeve's stupid goddamn robot that its operator had better have sat down and drank some goddamn tea before they held a meeting or they were turning this ship around so Cid could put his boot up his goddamn ass.
Not even a minute later and his phs dinged with a message from Reeve. It was a photo of an empty mug and an emoticon. Upon opening it, Cid snorted and immediately deleted it, stomping off to punch a robot in the nose.
One of them was going to regret being a fucking smartass, and it might as well be the fucker within reach.
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Cid had elected to stay on the Highwind while Tifa searched Mideel for Cloud, citing that he had to stay and make sure everything was in working order for Cloud's return. Which was only partly true, his crew had followed his routine perfectly despite him not being there, barking out orders and looming over them like an angry chimney -smoke included-, there was something more important to be fixed before they reunited.
It's an upgrade he's been desiring for a goddamn long time.
With a fond pat, he tucked away the battered tin pot and the assorted cups they've been using -Aerith's is set in a place of honor- and pulled out the nice ceramic set Shera bought right before everything went to hell. The set was a plain serviceable white, no trim, no decoration, eight cups and saucers and a single tea pot. Cid laid it out on the table, eyeing the cups speculatively.
As he finished, he dusted his hands off, realizing what was missing. He rummaged through his pockets for a moment and brought out a marker. With careful broad strokes he wrote out the names of each team member and set them down in their 'assigned' spot.
Cloud went at the head of the table, Tifa on his left, Cid to his right. Vincent took up the spot on Cid's free side even though he would likely take up residence in a nearby corner. Barret sat across from him. Yuffie near the end of the table, closest to the door. It took him a moment to decide what to do with Red, in the spirit of camaraderie, he sat his cup next to Barret's spot. It's the thought that counts after all.
When he reached the eighth cup he paused, wondering for a moment which name to put on it. For half a second he considered writing Aerith's, but dismissed it just as quickly. Honoring her wouldn't work with something that she had never touched. No matter how he tried to convince himself, he just couldn't bring himself to write the name of a robot on a tea cup.
Then it came to him, and he quickly scribbled it across, hand writing a bit sloppier than on the other seven and took a picture of it with his phs and sent it off. Finally satisfied, he took a step back and studied his work.
There would be time to introduce them to proper tea later, with ice and secret family recipes. Hot tea would have to do for now. He nodded once to himself and went off to find what his idiots had done with the hot plate. There was a better use for it now.
After that he was taking a nap and nothing they could say was going to change that.
Miles away, Reeve's phs chimed with a message. He opened it to find a cup with his name written on it and an accusation. He chuckled a bit and closed the phone. He had more on his plate than a disgruntled pilot.
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The tea he was forced to serve before the meeting was a pale imitation of what they would have in Rocket Town. The cheap, mass-produced kind that you could get anywhere in Midgar, it almost tasted right but there was something off about it that Cid couldn't quite describe. It was still worlds better than instant, so instead of complaining, he drained his cup.
And then he immediately nodded off. Let the others handle the hard stuff, he'd handle the flying, the fighting, the explosions and of course, the goddamn tea.
Of course, they didn't think of it that way and when Cid woke up he found himself in charge of this band of maniacs.
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In Corel, dust is everywhere. In the tents they pass off as houses, in their water, even in their goddamn tea. Never let it be said that Cid is not a patient man, his lip only curled slightly when he sipped at their offering -strong, but bland, no sugar added at all-, but he allowed no harsh words to escape. At least, not any more than he normally did.
Ultima materia in one hand, Huge Materia in the other. He returned to the Highwind.
It took him three full cups to get the taste of dirt out of his mouth. He saved them and they were grateful. It should have been enough.
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Fort Condor has nothing but instant tea, so Cid did them a favor and brought enough to last them a week -if they drank like he did, a month of 'normal' use-. After the fight is over, the egg has hatched and everyone is free, he settled down with the head honcho and talked shop while he waited for Cait Sith to finish repairing himself after taking a heavy blow from the Grand Horn.
The tea they served was his own, of course, but with something extra added. Strong and sweet with a bit of a kick. Cid heartily approved, but before he could ask what they added, he was distracted by an explosion from where he had left his comrades. He exchanged a look with the boss, shaking his head as he stood up to see what Cait had done to himself now.
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There are bruises on his bruises, but the smile on Cid's face hasn't faded. He has a cigarette in his mouth, a cup of Mideel's local brew -sweetened with a stalk of sugar cane- in his hand and Cloud at the head of the table, a mildly bemused look on his face. Cid took a sip of his drink -almost too sweet, it had a fruity aftertaste, but he could overlook it because it was as close to perfect as it could be without being from home-, lips quirking up in a smirk.
"Life's too fucking short to sweat the small stuff," he said, smoke billowing out of his mouth. "Stop fucking worrying about it and tell us what we're going to fucking do to solve the fucking problem."
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TBC
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I almost felt guilty for breaking Disc 2 into three parts, but then I remembered that Cid was only in the later parts of Disc 1.
I also got distracted imagining Cid and Reeve sniping at each other and griping over shared antics. 'Look what these fuckers did.' 'You think that is bad? Look what my subordinates tried to do.' 'Your Robot tripped over a stick and exploded.' 'Are you certain you didn't help it along?' That might be something I will work on the future, so keep an eye out.
Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please kindly consider leaving a review on your way out.