A Sticky Situation – An FFVII Fanfiction

Disclaimer: The FF7 characters do not belong to me. But Tai-Chung and the hybrid monsters are mine. Steal and DDIIIIEEE. X.x

"How far is it?" Vincent asked monotonously, following Cid as they left the clearing to hunt down the thieving bird.

"The hell do I know?"

"Shouldn't we bring some provisions?"

"...Uh. Good idea."

Vincent crept back through the bushes to pick up some of the cooked eggs from earlier, before returning to Cid's side. "Are you sure the bird headed in this direction?"

"Hn." Cid broke a tree branch obstructing their path, and continued on. Vincent took some time to observe the blond. He was wearing his red cloak, as the two men had decided that the sight of Cid running around half-naked would probably traumatize some virgin Formulas.

...Not.

"Come on, the sun's going to set some time soon." Vincent hastened his pace, his eyes focused on the strip of cloth tied around Cid's head. The pilot had decided to use the remains of his torn shirt as some kind of head gear, and Vincent thought it made the pilot look a tad bit... younger. Unbeknown to him, Cid had actually planned to take on the 'kamikaze militia' look.

"That fucking bird stole my frickin' keys... this is WAR."

Vincent supposed the blond's enthusiastic fighting spirit would come in handy later, so he didn't bother putting out his dear friend's fire.

The hybrid bird squawked as it followed the two men with small bouncy steps, stopping here and there to peck at a flower or two. It had once tried to tug some of Vincent's shiny hair off his scalp, but when the gunman threatened to blow its head off with a (very shiny and explosive) bullet, it had avoided the ex-Turk's hair completely.

"Cid, we should give the animal a name."

Cid stopped in his occupation, cutting through some thick nettle bushes. "Say what?"

"What?"

"No, I mean, why the hell would we give it a name?"

"Exactly. We shouldn't call it... it. It should have a name." And also because the author doesn't want some mad chocobo rights activist chucking stink bombs through her letterbox.

"Well, we can call it 'him', from now on. Good enough for you?"

Vincent shook his head, stroking the bird's long neck. "No. What if it's a girl?"

"Then we'll call it 'her'!"

"But what if it suffers from gender confusion? What if it's a hermaphrodite? What then?"

"You talk shit sometimes, Vince. We can always just call it by saying, 'Hey you!' I think it should understand that!"

"But it's a bird. It doesn't speak English." (Or whatever language the Final Fantasy characters seem to speak.)

"No?" Vincent shook his head. "Well, it should. Stupid bird." The animal screeched loudly.

Cid screeched back.

Vincent didn't know why they were screeching, so he just sat down and proceeded to play whack-a-mole with a group of baby Formulas (all of which he later killed).

"Dammit! It can SO understand our language! Look at this! Hey birdie, your armpit stinks!"

The bird stayed nonchalant.

"What the? It didn't react?"

"Well, maybe it's because it doesn't evenhave an armpit, Cid."

"Oh, right. Anyway, let's just drop this topic, okay? We need to find that stupid thieving bird ay-es-ay-pee (1) so that we can get our ass back onto Highwind and fly the hell outta here."

"But we should give it a name first..."

Cid paused and stared at his traveling companion. Vincent equaled the stare with his own piercing gaze. "...You know, Vince, you're a bit too talkative lately." Cid scratched the back of his head, a bothered expression dominating his features. "You've talked with me more on this island that you ever did while we're out and about with the gang."

Vincent took this in with revelation. He has been talking a little bit too much in the past few days... struggling to re-claim his calm demeanor, the gunman walked sulkily on ahead through the brambles. "Oh, shit. You've clammed up again."

"...I thought that's what you wanted."

"No, that's not it!" Cid cried out in frustration. "I like it when you talk to me!"

Vincent halted in his effort to wrestle a tree branch out of his way. He turned slightly to give Cid a curious glance. The blond adopted a 'deer-caught-redhanded-with-its-mitts-down-the-car-driver's-pants' look.

The pilot scratched his head again. "Uh... it's just... it doesn't seem real. You're expressing yourself more than you ever did, or dared, and it took me by surprise." He crept slowly closer to the gunman. "But I'm happy that you're talking to me, Vince. I feel... closer to you, somehow."

Vincent fought off the blush that threatened to mar his pale cheeks. Cid was a hand's breadth away from him now, and he could clearly see the blond's stomach muscles flexing under his slightly tanned skin. "Closer... in more ways than one."

Vincent allowed the blush to surface, yet he did not know why he did. Turning away from Cid, he brutally snapped off the tree branch and proceeded to set as large a distance between him and the pilot as he could possibly manage, without completely leaving the other in the dust. Cid, like I mentioned earlier, is apparently physically fitter than the gunman, so he caught up pretty fast. Grasping Vincent's wrist, the pilot guided the black-haired man to rest against his chest, knowing that the latter hadn't ran as much as he had for the last ten minutes in the last few months.

Panting, Vincent opted not to fight off the gesture, comparing the warmth of Cid's torso with his own heat, that came from the result of exercising too vigorously under exceedingly warm conditions. His throat felt dry, but he wasn't sure whether it was because he deliberately made himself incapable of speech, or that he was actually quite thirsty. "You're too hot." The ambiguity of this sentence made Vincent shiver. "Go sit down on that rock. I'll cast Blizzard. Have you got the little ball thingamajigs?" The gunman felt a certain sense of foreboding when he handed Cid the appropriate materia for a Blizzard spell, but was too hot and bothered to pursue the sensation.

Sitting quite comfortably on the rock Cid had indicated to him, he felt the atmosphere gradually cooling around his being as Cid conjured some snowflakes to fall out of the empty air. The hybrid, intrigued, took up the silly little task of snapping its beak at the magical snowflakes, apparently bewildered that they could stay frozen for such a long length of time, considering the fact that they were quite near to a rumbling volcano filled with boiling hot lava.

Vincent himself caught a particularly large snowflake in his hand and bit into it, relishing the cold melted liquid in his mouth and the comfort it gave to his sweltering body. Cid, done with summoning the beautiful shower of ice, quietly sat on the ground at his companion's feet, catching a snowflake gently in between his clasped palms and crushing it. He used the liquid from the flake to wet his face a little. "Are you feelin' better?"

Vincent stayed quiet, determined not to talk to the other unless necessary. The gunman kept his eyes fixed on his golden claws as he nibbled on a stray snowflake he snatched from the air. Something inside his mind told him he was doing something normal people would affectionately look upon as a 'tantrum', but he decided that 'giving Cid the silent treatment' was the best phrase to use in describing his current behaviour.

"...I meant what I said, Vince." Cid announced in the silence, grasping Vincent's flesh hand tightly. The black-haired man winced and pulled his arm away. Cid tried to grab the cold hand again, but the gunman was playing hard to get. "Damn tease. Just lemme hold your hand already."

"...Why?" Vincent allowed himself to ask, looking at Cid with what he hoped was a cool, aloof stare.

"'Cause it's more romantic that way." Cid smirked at the gunman's shocked expression. Damn, he must be the first person to see Vincent Valentine's jaw hanging by its hinges. "Come on, gimme your hand."

Overwhelmed by shock from Cid's last remark, Vincent allowed his companion to take a hold of his hand, and they stayed that way for about ten minutes. He didn't even move in Cid's hold, yet he could feel the callous lines etched along the pilot's tanned skin. These passive touches occupied his thoughts for a while, evoking foreign emotions.

"Your fingers."

"..." What about my fingers?

"They're so fucking long."

Ah. Leave it to Cid to be so offensive.

"..." So?

"Like a girl's."

Vincent growled quietly. "..." Fuck you.

When the pilot started to stroke his hand, the gunman had enough. He pulled his hand away roughly and sulked some more, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

The falling snow covered more of the ground, stretching out farther and farther into the forest. If Vincent had not sulked so avidly he would have had time to notice a few of the trees cringing, their trunks slowly turning a very pale shade of white, if that was ever possible. Their leaves curled, shriveled and wilted, drifting down from their dead branches like dirty shreds of rag cloth. The hybrid chocobo seemed to sense the changing atmosphere though, and it suddenly appeared restless.

"Hey, about your earlier question."

"..." What question?

"Let's name it Toff."

"..." What are you on, suddenly?

"His feathers are brown, like toffee. Right?"

"..." Not really.

"Oh, hey. You think Toff's connected to the puddle of toffee we found?"

Vincent rubbed his arms. When did the air turn so bitterly cold? "Don't talk nonsense, Highwind."

"Oh, you talking to me now? ...Why are you flapping your arms like that? Are you sick?"

Vincent stopped trying to generate some warmth.

"Ahh, you cold?"

"..." Oh no, I'm very warm. This place feels so tropical. Oh look, the sky's throwing paper snowflakes down at us.

Cid joined Vincent on the rock and took the gunman by surprise when he embraced him. Vincent could not deny the warmth emitting from the other; so mesmerized was he that his own body leaned in closer to share more of that calming heat. For a minute he booted his pride out of the equation and landed himself with a winning formula. Cid's arms plus Cid's heat plus Cid's embrace equals putty Vincent.

"What's freaking the freak out?" Cid pointed out casually, nodding towards the overgrown bird.

Vincent cursed himself for basking too much in Cid's presence, but made no move to jerk away. Although he admitted that the hybrid was acting strangely. Toff dithered about in a spot, staring at Cid, then the sky, and finally the dark forest waiting behind him. He paced in random directions, plopped down to rest in some places, pulled himself up again, and marched back to his original spot. Toff stared at the dark forest again.

"It's like he's planning to..."

Toff spontaneously bolted in the opposite direction.

"...Escape."

"...!"Fuck!

Realizing that the whole objective of their mission was to bring back the hybrid and not cuddling amidst falling snow, Vincent fumbled out of Cid's hold and posed himself to chase after the bird. Unfortunately, Cid hadn't fully disentangled himself from his partner yet (why do I feel so naughty when I typed up that sentence?) and Vincent only succeeded in pulling the lancer down into snow with him when he tripped.

Even with his face buried in the snow, the serious ex-Turk managed to scream a feeble "The hybrid, it's getting away...!", but as he brought his head up he realized that something was squashing him.

Someone.

Cid was lying heavily on the black-haired man, chuckling into his shirt. The pilot wasn't intending to move anytime soon, and he made this clear as he slowly inched his way higher along the arch of Vincent's back. The gunman struggled in the thin layer of snow as Cid pressed his shoulders down firmly. "Well, well."

"W-What are you doing?! The hybrid's getting away!"

"Let's just worry about that later..."

He could feel Cid's abs practically massaging his back, so hard they were. At that moment, Vincent realized instantly what "later" meant, and his body shuddered with what he found was anticipation. Damn hormones! He was never this quick to be aroused! "Cid, get off of me, or...!"

"Hmmm..." Cid didn't hesitate to caress his partner's hair, flicking it aside to reveal Vincent's pale neck. Kissing the unbelievably soft, warm skin, he could hear the gunman sigh ruggedly, and that really turned him on, for some reason. Damn hormones! He was never this quick to be aroused! "...Or what?"

Vincent gasped. It couldn't be.

The heat on his behind...

Cid's...

...Oh buggerisms. If anyone from the entity known as Square-Enix knew anything about this, they'd ban Dirge of Cerberus from the market... not that he wasn't ashamed by such a crap game made in his name (or rather, that of his gun) anyway...

Gun...

Gun... and... gun...? (2)

"Ka-click."

Cid gulped.

"Gee-tee-eff-oh (3) now or I'll blow your balls."

Cid rolled over obligingly, thus putting some distance between him and the gun which had been so nicely poked against his nether regions.

Freedom successfully attained (and without having to kill anyone, an exclusive first), Vincent quickly got up, ignoring the fact that the whole front of his body was wet and half-frozen from lying in the snow too long.

Now where could the hybrid be...?

I feel that I have to remind you that this fic is actually very, very, very random. Ha! You thought there was plot advancement in this chapter? I ask you now, babes... WHAT IS A PLOT? Ha. Haha! HAHAHA! -dragged away by the MiB-

(1) ASAP. I didn't write THAT in because I didn't want to seem illiterate. -smile-
(2) Urge to type "Big Magnum" rising...
(3) GTFO. I didn't write THAT in because I didn't want to seem illiterate (also to keep this fic rated as a humble, unoffensive T. -ignores all the 'F' words she's been giving Vincent in the script-).

Vince: WT(beep)?

AND OMG, I KNOW.

I haven't updated in a goddamn-long time. (A fucking long time...)

I KNOW. (Like, a YEAR in fact...)

So don't hate me for it, babes. -love- (But hate me anyway. Go on. You know you want to... ;-;)

((Seriously though, I'm sorry. ;v;))

((Note: the authoress hasn't even completed DoC because of her stupidity and general lameness of character, so don't ask her about this game... AT ALL! -smacks a huge NO-GO ZONE stamp on your face-))