Author's note - Sorry it took me so horribly long to get this part out! I had some serious writer's block with this part, and it's a bit shorter than the previous two. Still, I hope you guys like it, and I'm relieved to finally have it finished!
Cid fumbled with the house key, pushing the front door open. Since his visit to Yuffie, he had stopped at the store for groceries and several mechanical supplies. The crisp, cool sky was pink with the setting of the sun. He shrugged his tattered coat off, anxious to see Vincent again. Air slightly warmer than outside greeted him as he set down his bags and closed the door. He put the groceries up hurriedly. 'I'm pretty damn sure that I just put a wrench in the 'fridge, too,' he thought absently. He left his mechanical supplies on the dining table, too intent on seeing his beloved to bother with them.
"Vin?" he called out. The sound of the television in his room alerted him to Vincent's whereabouts. The bedroom door was cracked. Cid peeked inside, grinning at the image of the normally stoic man frowning at the screen and muttering.
"Of course she doesn't want to marry you now, you slept with her sister. Marriage is a bond of trust… How could Felicia do that to her, anyway? Her sister's fiancé!"
Apparently he was watching an evening soap opera and getting rather involved in the storyline at that. The door creaking slightly alerted Vincent to Cid's presence and he had the grace to blush at his uncharacteristic behavior.
"I was…um…"
The blonde man laughed, entering the room and closing the door gently.
"Ya don't need ta explain it to me, babe. I lived with Shera long enough ta get used to it. Ya won't believe how loud that woman can yell, though. Ya'd think it was her own fuckin' life on the tube."
Vincent smiled slightly, stretching his arms a bit. The pilot sat down on the bed next to him, watching him for a moment.
"Yuffie's doin' good, Vinny. She's as much of a smartass as always, so she must be recovering well."
The ebony-haired man nodded in relief. He had been concerned for her long-term well-being. Still, the thought of hospitals made him shudder.
"Cid, do you… Do you think that…"
Baby blue eyes blinked in curiosity. "Go on."
Vincent paused. "Do you think Chaos is a threat? I mean, I know he's been relatively dormant as of late, but…that in itself worries me."
"He's nothin' we can't handle together, Vin. Don'tcha worry 'bout that bastard. You're stronger than him. You always have been."
"Thank you, Cid."
The blonde pilot grinned. "Anyway, how 'bout we finished watchin' this dinky soap opera together, huh."
Vincent had been eyeing Cid for over thirty minutes. He would pretend to watch the TV. for a minute, then sneak a glance at the man next to him.
'My heart is pounding…and I can't stop thinking of what he did to me last night… Oh gods, my body is burning. This is so embarrassing…'
Indeed, it is quite embarrassing. Seeing you fawn over him like some lost puppy makes me truly ill.
But even Chaos' belittling could not sway his attention from Cid.
"…Highwind?"
"Hm?"
"…Nothing."
Vincent's calling him 'Highwind' didn't escape the pilot's notice, nor did the rather bright blush on his creamy cheeks. But Cid didn't say anything.
'He doesn't realize that I know he's been watchin' me for a while now. Heh…he's so cute when he acts like that.'
"Heya, Vin, why don't you lie down an' we can continue from where we left off yesterday."
Vincent blinked, his face burning with embarrassment. He suddenly felt self-conscious again, like he had felt when Cid had first started propositioning him.
"Cid…"
The blonde man noted his partner's uneasiness and shrugged.
"Well, it ain't that important, anyway. I'm kinda beat, myself. How 'bout we just go ta sleep, eh?"
"…If you wish, Cid." Vincent cringed at the passiveness in his own voice.
Weak. As always, you are nothing but weak. A puppet. Everyone's puppet. Cid's puppet.
Vincent stirred, ebony hair resting on his face. He grimaced, pushing the thick strands out of the way so he could see. His sleep-blurred vision cleared after a minute and he realized that Cid was not beside him.
Scare him off already, Valentine? See, all he wants from you is sex. You refuse, he leaves.
"Shut up, Chaos," the man growled softly. It was too early for such taunting. Nonetheless, the former Turk couldn't help but feel a rush of anxiety at the thought. He stood quickly, hurrying to the kitchen. He sighed in relief at seeing Cid standing in front of the oven, cigarette between his lips.
"Mornin' Vin!," the pilot greeted, scratching his blonde stubble absently.
He stirred something in a pot on the range, frowning at it.
"Eh, it's s'posed ta be oatmeal, but it's kinda…dead. There's some eggs on the table that're getting' cold by now, though. And I've got some bacon in the oven…though I probably shoulda cooked it in a pan, but I'm usin' all two of 'em, so…"
Vincent nearly laughed aloud at the domesticity of his comrade. Smiling, he took a seat, surprised to find the eggs already on a plate and ready to eat.
"Thank you, Cid."
The blonde man glanced over, grinning. "Not a prob., babe. Anything for you," he winked.
The pale man blushed, picking up his fork and gingerly tasting the eggs. They were tough and bland, but he smiled and ate them anyway. Pleased with his companion's response, Cid went back to the bacon, humming to himself.
Vincent continued to eat the eggs, pausing when a small plate of semi-burnt bacon was set before him. He looked up at the other man, who only shrugged embarrassedly. After a moment, Cid sat down next to Vincent, resting his chin on his palm and watching his companion eat.
"Am I truly that interesting to watch?"
"Yeah, well…more interestin' than workin' on a carburetor."
Vincent's arched eyebrow rose.
"How flattering."
Again, Cid shrugged. He pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it, inhaling the nicotine. He turned his head away from Vincent to let out the smoke.
"'Sides," Cid continued, "a carburetor is big an' lumpy, it's all oily and shit, it's just a hunk of inanimate metal. Nothin' real interestin' there, if ya ask me. But you," he said, pointing his cigarette at Vincent, "you are big an' warm, ya smell nice an' have clean hair, and you're warm and nice ta cuddle with. It'd be pretty fuckin' hard to snuggle up next to a carburetor, don't ya think?"
"…I, too, am made of metal."
Cid growled, slapping his forehead in exasperation.
"Stop makin' yerself sound like the fuckin' Tin Man, Vin! You're a helluva lot more fuckin' human than anything else, dammit! Fuck, a good breakfast ruined…"
He stood and went to lean on the counter, his back to the other man. Vincent blinked, wincing inwardly as a wave of guilt coursed through him.
"…I'm sorry, Cid…" he whispered.
The blonde man turned to look at his apologetic companion.
"Eh. S'kay. Ya…ya just gotta stop all this self-loathin' shit. I mean, what do I got to do to make ya feel special?"
"I do feel special, Cid. Whenever I'm with you, I feel so…important. But I don't believe that I deserve such treatment. You are far too good to someone like me…"
The pilot sighed, tired of hearing the same old argument. He snuffed out the cigarette, tossing it into an over-flowing trash can.
"Vin, have ya looked at me lately? I mean, I'm thirty-two, I ain't exactly no playboy, I cuss worse than a sailor, an' I'm a fuckin' bachelor. You think you're not worthy of me? Don't flatter me, babe. Compared to me, you're a prince."
Vincent remained silent, realizing that he had yet again upset Cid.
Nothing unusual there. You have quite a talent for that, don't you.
He cringed, gritting his teeth. Surely, he should apologize. It would be wrong for him not to. Cid had only wanted to do something nice for him, and he had ruined it yet again. It was always his fault. Not once had the other man done anything that should have logically upset Vincent.
It took you long enough to realize that.
Vincent just shook his head silently, eyes fixed on the scarred table.
The scrape of a match and a sulfuric smell were Cid Highwind's only companions. He closed his pale blue eyes and leaned back against the headboard of his bed, his mind swirling in endless circles.
'He's like one of those old-fashioned uptight guys…' he thought. 'All prim an' proper an' traditional…' Suddenly, he jumped up, the cigarette nearly falling from his half-parted lips.
"That's it!" he murmured as he stood, fumbling for clean paper in the nightstand drawer. "Can't believe I never realized this before…"
He's probably writing you a farewell letter. A rather rude one, I anticipate.
Vincent closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to banish Chaos' voice from his mind. He had been watching Cid write something for two days. The gruff man would chew on his pencil, scribble something down quickly, then erase it with a growl. He had nearly worn a hole in the paper the day before.
"What are you writing?" he had asked the blonde man.
"Nuthin'."
Vincent blinked at Cid's uncharacteristic secrecy. After a moment, the other man set down the paper and sighed.
"It's nuthin' Vin, really. Just somethin' I've been musin' over lately."
The dark-haired man nodded slowly, his face not revealing his thoughts.
Perhaps it's a letter to that abominable woman. Shera, was it? Asking her to return to him since you've turned out to be so disappointing…
'…I'm not concerning myself with your lies.'
Then why bother responding?
'…'
I thought so.
Vincent stood, startling his companion.
"…I think I will retire now…"
Cid stared at him for a moment, unsure what to say.
"Heh. Sure. Um, have a good night, Vin."
The pilot watched as Vincent left the room, then sighed, setting the paper down and cradling his head in his hand.
"Fuck," he mumbled. "Fuck fuck fuck…"
Vincent awoke the next morning to the delightful smell of bacon, muffins, and hash browns. For a moment, he thought that he was in the wrong house. However, the same dull painted walls and musty cigarette smell reassured him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with a pale hand. He ambled into the bathroom for a minute, coming out slightly refreshed and very hungry. He followed his nose into the kitchen. Cid was standing next to the table in a fairly new sweater and jeans, his face clean shaven. The table was set simply, and Vincent noted that the food must have come from elsewhere, for Cid certainly hadn't cooked it. The said man smiled nervously, indicating for Vincent to sit down.
"I, uh, thought this up a few days ago. Not the food thing, just…well, have a seat and I'll show ya."
He fumbled with his pocket, pulling out the worn piece of paper. He unfolded it, clearing his throat. Vincent watched him curiously.
"I've been writin' this…You're so, er, old-fashioned and shit that, uh…Well…fuck."
Giving up on the explanation, Cid just began to read:
When I met you, my life was dull, incomplete
Then I saw your eyes, so lonely and so sweet.
I tried hard not to love you, not to feel like I do
But each time I saw you, my heart kindled anew.
It's true I'm not the smartest man, and I've made my mistakes
Yet every day I know you, I try harder for your sake.
Vin, you are so beautiful, you're all I'll ever know
Please say you'll stay with me, so our love can only grow.
He didn't look up when he finished, instead simply standing there awkwardly.
Vincent stared at him in shock, unable to even speak. The words of the poem kept racing through his mind.
"…You…you wrote that…for me?"
Cid nodded, scratching his head nervously.
Vincent couldn't stop staring, his heart pounding. 'If he means all those things… Oh Cid…' He didn't know what to say. Never a verbose person, Vincent felt especially out of place as his mind grappled for the right words.
You're pathetic' would work quite nicely.
Chaos' words broke his concentration, and he finally had to say something.
"Give me a minute…"
Cid nodded, sitting slowly across from him. He picked up his fork, stabbing absently at a green as he watched the other man's struggle.
"It's a beautiful poem..." Vincent murmured.
Cid smiled weakly.
"You think? I'm not much of a poet, ya know, so..."
The dark-haired man shook his head.
"No, it was very good. I just can't believe...that you would write that for...me..."
Cid shrugged, at a loss for what to say.
"You're worth it, Vin. And...I meant every word of it."
Vincent stared at his companion in awe. 'Of course you mean it...you spent two days writing eight lines of poetry. All for me...'
"Thank you, Cid," was all he could manage in response.
The pilot sighed, a defeated look entering his eyes.
"Heh...yeah, no problem... Uh, I'm gonna go work on the Highwind, alright?" He stood and left, not waiting for an answer.
Vincent stared at Cid's untouched plate. 'I have to repay him somehow... He's done so much for me, cared so much. Surely there is something I can do in return?'
Decapitation sounds fitting.
He frowned, an idea coming into his mind that he wasn't entirely sure he liked.
Cid growled, throwing the wrench to the ground with a clank. His face burned with his perceived humiliation.
"Write him a fuckin' poem...all I get is 'thank you, Cid'...the fuck's up with that? Two fuckin' days workin' on that shit..."
He sighed, resting his arms on his knees.
"What a nightmare..."
He was beginning to doubt that he would ever be able to get through to Vincent. After all, he had been trying for so long already. And though he loved the stoic man deeply, he realized that you simply can't change a person if they refuse to let you.
"Naw, but if I give up now, Vin'll think I don't really love him. Shit. I'm fucked no matter what I do..."
He stared at the Highwind blankly, unable to concentrate on his task.
Vincent bit his lip, trying to concentrate on his project. He found that the more he thought about what he was doing, the more difficult it became. 'How am I supposed to put these thoughts on paper? I assumed it would be easier than speaking them aloud, but...' He tapped the pencil absently, beginning to think it was a bad idea from the start.
Then leave, if you can't even write a simple letter. Do you really think you're worthy of him if you can't manage this one task for his sake?
Vincent growled, not happy to hear his demon's voice undermining him yet again.
"I will finish this," he said with determination.
Of course you will. A suicide note would be lovely... I'm sure he's quite curious to know if you're capable of dying.
"Funny," the pale man muttered, trying to concentrate. He wrote several words, only to erase them immediately. 'For all my supposed eloquence, this is very difficult...' He finally set the pencil down, leaning back. Thoughts came unbidden to his mind. He reminisced of his love for Lucretcia, and the pain of that loss.
Ah, now there was a nice piece of -
'Shut up...'
Perhaps if you had thought more along those lines, she would not have cast you aside like the worthless bag of flesh you are.
'...Cid doesn't think so. He loves me for what I am.'
He also smokes like a chimney and curses worse than a drunken sailor. Do you truly trust his judgment that much?
'Despite his flaws, Chaos, he has never lied to me. And he has not allowed any harm to come to me, even when he had to risk himself to prevent it.'
He sighed, pressing the lead to the paper. 'I will get this written,' he thought with determination.
"I cannot do it," Vincent stated dryly as Cid entered the kitchen the next morning. The pale man sat at the table tensely. The pilot stared at him from the doorway, his heart speeding up. A heavy feeling of dread filled him, and he sighed.
"Can't do what?" he murmured, taking a seat opposite the man. He lit a cigarette, drawing the nicotine into his mouth gratefully. Vincent leaned his elbows on the table, resting his forehead against his palms.
"I tried to...to write a letter to you. But I couldn't..."
Cid smiled slightly, a wave of relief washing through him.
"Ah, is that all? Fuck, you had me worried there, Vin. Honestly, don't scare me like that!"
"I thought that if I wrote you a letter, it would be easier to tell you how I feel..." he said, lowering his head. Once again, he felt inadequate. 'He does so much for me,' the dark-haired man thought, 'and what do I give him in return?'
Headaches, I imagine. And heartache... It really would be in everyone's best interest for you to leave.
'No...I'm not listening to you. Not this time,' he thought firmly. Lowering his arms to the tabletop, he looked at his companion. Could he do this? What would it mean if he did?
"Cid...I...do you love me?" he asked softly.
The blonde looked at him in surprise, smiling slightly.
"'Course I do, babe. You know I love ya."
Vincent sighed, his hands shaking slightly.
"Well...I want you to know...that I..."
The pilot reached across the table, resting his hand over his companion's.
"Ya don't gotta tell me nuthin', Vin. It's okay."
He shook his head, looking worriedly at the suddenly fascinating tabletop.
"No, please...I need to say this. Cid, I...I love you," he whispered.
The blonde's mouth gaped open, his cigarette dropping to the table.
"Y-yeah? Shit... Look, it ain't gonna be easy, ya know? I mean, I know how hard this is for ya, and...uh...fuck."
"It will be okay, Cid. I promise," Vincent reassured quietly.
The pilot scratched his head, laughing nervously.
"So...yer not gonna leave me, then?"
The pale man stood, coming to stand next to his companion's chair. Cid stood as well, reaching out to wrap his arms around the taller man.
"I meant what I said," the ex-Turk whispered.
Cid's arms tightened around the slim figure, and he sniffed slightly.
"I know, babe."
Vincent smiled to himself.
"Cid...are you crying?"
"Shut up."