You know the drill.

And I don't own Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas. If I were Hunter S. Thompson, I probably wouldn't be bothering myself with fan fiction. Also, I might be dead. I can't remember what state Mr. Thompson is in at the moment.

I hereby admittedly state that I knew hardly anything about the technicalities of jail time, the foster care system, or most mental/emotional/attachment disabilities/issues, and that I have made up details about these things for drama and easier writing.

Characters belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.

I think that's about it. I certainly hope this all covers my ass. Cos dammit, I don't want any complaints about anything that I've made sure to mention above.

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(Vincent)

Cid's busy, Reno's grounded for the rest of the week, I'm not allowed to visit Lucy, and nobody's home, so it's me and myself after school today. I always do enjoy my alone time though. It's always a big source of relief for me. Nobody can expect anything of me if I'm all by myself.

After having a snack, a quick jerk off, and the realization that there's nothing good on tv, I grab Reno's skateboard and decide to give it a go. Forgetful Reno rode it over here and ended up walking home later on without a second thought.

It takes some time to get accustomed to the skate, but I eventually get my balance and can manage going up and down the driveway just fine. Obviously, I'm far from ready for the backside ollies, handrail grindings, and nosegrabs like Reno works on, but I'm kinda getting the hang of things.

Well, I thought I was. But that was before I was skidding face first into the street. And now I'm laying here, hoping a mack truck will speed down the street to end this stinging misery. I groan as I roll over on my back. It hurts now, and it's gonna be a whole different kind of sore hurt in the morning.

Finally, I drag myself to my feet, locate the skateboard, and make the long, laborious trek back into the house. Once inside, I limp as far as I can, but give up at the bottom of the stairs. I sit against the wall and brush some of the dirt and gravel off my arm and the side of my face. My pants are torn at the knee, and I'm bleeding in a few places, but it all stings too much to actually want to get off over it.

Dammit, somebody's coming home. I can hear the front door opening and the rustle of plastic grocery bags. "Hello?" Reeve's mum calls out. "Anybody home?"

I keep quiet and ready myself to make an escape up the stairs, but Mrs. Tuesti catches sight of me. "Oh no!" she gasps and hurries over. "You didn't get in a fight, did you?"

I don't answer her, but glance over to the skateboard. I don't want her attention. But, of course, she's going to give it to me anyway. "Took a bit of a tumble, huh?"

I nod once.

"I'll go get the first aid kit," she turns to leave.

"No," I can take care of myself.

"I think you use your favourite word too much, Vincent," she tells me. "Frankly, I'm a little tired of hearing it. Now I'm getting the first aid kit."

"No," I growl again.

"Alright then, Vincent. I won't help you. I'll go hide all the bandaids and medicine, but when your dirty cuts get infected and start to hurt even more, don't come whining to me. I'm going to put the groceries away now. I'll be in the kitchen if you decide you want to be nice," she turns and walks off to the kitchen.

Good. I never said I needed any help anyway. But after a few minutes, I realize I'm pretty hungry, and the dirt isn't going to clean itself off of my scraped up knee, and all I'm doing is sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Unwillingly, I stumbled lamely into the kitchen.

"Did you change your mind, Vincent?"

I shrug in response.

"You'll have to ask nicely. I can't be expected to know what you want by reading your mind."

I withhold the frustrated groan that wants to come out. "Help me clean up," I mutter. She looks at me expectantly. I know what it is she wants. "...Please," I add reluctantly, digging my nails into the palms of my hands.

"Hm. Well, that's a little better," she says as she goes to retrieve the first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom. I take a seat at the kitchen table while I wait.

"How was school today?" Mrs. Tuesti asks as she returns to the kitchen. I shrug again, and she says, "Oh, you don't say? That sounds so interesting!"

Ha, hilarious. She puts some peroxide on a cotton ball and proceeds to clean off my cheek. I instinctively jerk back from her touch and have to remind myself that she's not harming; she's helping.

"I'm sorry if it stings a little," she says nicely. "You got yourself some pretty nasty scrapes there. Were you trying out some tricks from Rudey's little brother?" she laughs lightly and gets some more peroxide to clean my arm. "Honestly, Vincent, I just don't think I can take your incessant chatter anymore," she says when I don't respond. "All you do is talk, talk, talk... I think you're about to make my ears fall off!"

I sigh quietly, turning my arm so she can have access to the scratches. She rolls her eyes sarcastically. "Oh, come on now, Vincent! I'm only trying to get you to lighten up," she smiles. "You can't be miserable all the time forever, you know."

I can be however I damn well want.

Mrs. Tuesti applies a bandaid or two to a couple particularly nasty scrapes and asks me to roll the leg of my pants up over my knee. But jeans aren't the easiest or most flexible of materials to work with, so I have to take them off. "If you want to keep these, I can try to wash the blood off of them," Mrs. Tuesti says. "They might look kind of neat with the rip in them like that." She folds them and sets them on the table. "Ooh, that looks pretty icky. Let's see what we can do about this."

I feel a bit awkward sitting here like this in my boxers, but she doesn't seem to mind. We both wince as she tries to brush away the dirt and gravel that slightly indented into the wound as gently as she possibly can. "Hmm... Come to the sink."

She helps me across the kitchen and tells me to hop up on the counter and try to get my leg over the sink. The faucet is one of the detachable kinds, so it makes this whole process quite a bit easier. The water's a bit chilly, and feels good for a minute, until shit starts to sting again. We make it back to the table and she readies another cotton ball of peroxide.

"This is probably going to hurt some, but I'm not doing it on purpose, alright?" she asks. I nod in response. Again, it does hurt. It makes my fists clench and my body tense up, and she apologizes for the stinging again. "Alright, let's let that dry for a few minutes before we do anything else. Are you hungry?"

I nod again and she goes to look through the cabinets and fixes up a plate of things. She brings the plate over a few minutes later and sets it in front of me. There are crackers, some with peanut butter and some with cheese, a bunch of grapes, and a chocolate chip cookie. Something pulls a side of my mouth up into a lopsided smirk as I look at the food she'd fixed for me.

"What?" she puts her hands on her hips in mock annoyance. "I gave you options because I figured you'd refuse to tell me what you like."

Nah, it's good. I'll eat it all; I'm pretty hungry. I don't know exactly what I've found funny. Maybe the fact that I probably wouldn't have told her what I like. I give a small laugh as I pick up one of the crackers and nod. Mrs. Tuesti smiles again and sighs, "You are one piece of work, boy..." She sits down next to me and lifts my leg up onto her lap and proceeds to bandage my injured knee. "There you go, Vincent! Just make sure to keep it clean."

She doesn't leave me yet, but continues to sit there, holding my leg like that. "Is something the matter, Vincent?"

I think for a moment, but I decide to ask. "Well, I was just wondering... why do you do that?"

"Do what, honey?"

"Help me." Tolerate me. Deal with me. Stand me. Live with me.

"Well, because I want to, and because I want to care about you, and I want you to care about me too, and because I want to show you that there are people in this world who honestly want to give you love."

She stands up, but before she walks away, I bring up the courage to say something that I know needs to be said, no matter how difficult it is to get out. "...Thanks."

"You're very welcome," she kisses the top of my head and goes to finish putting the groceries away.

----

"Yo. Vince. You're not lookin' too good. You alright?" Reno asks as we meet in the hallway at school.

"You take back your Goddamn implement of hell, Reno Fagan," I hold his skateboard out towards him so he can take it.

"This did that to you?" he laughs as he gets hold of it.

"It wants me dead, I swear it." I reach out tentatively with one finger to spin one of its wheels and smirk. "But it learned the hard way that it could never take me alive."

"You actually in a good mood, yo?" Reno tilts his head, the almost charming way he often does when he asks a question.

"Maybe a little," I say inexactly and scowl at him. "What of it?"

"Nothin', yo," he laughs. "Nothin' at all."

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(Cid)

The good mood Vincent was in earlier this morning seems to have vanished. Since lunch, he's gone back to the sulky old Vincent we all know and love. His misery has worn him out so much, he's fallen asleep at his desk - still my ex-desk. That's great, cos now I get to receive notes from Yuffie.

I yawn and unfold the piece of paper she's handed me. "Isn't he cute sleeping like that? Don't u just wanna hug him & squeeze him? Do u think maybe he wants a girlfriend??!!"

As usual, I groan inwardly as I pick up my pen to write a response. "Yes. Sure. No." I hand the note back to Yuffie and watch her roll her eyes as she reads it. She quickly writes something and gives it back to me.

"U r NO fun, Cid!!!! Do u know that??"

I write her one last response before the bell rings. "Yep...?.!!?::()"

"Time to go home. Wake up, Vinnycent," I say to the sleeping mope in my ex-desk.

"Huh-uh," he mumbles defiantly as he furrows his brow and turns his head.

"Uh-huh," I correct him. "You can come over and go right back to sleep on my nice, comfy bed. Pillows an' everything," I pick up my bag and his, and nudge his shoulder. "Come on now. I'll carry you out of here if I have to, but it's gonna look damn silly," I warn, but it doesn't seem to do much good. "Look, Vince, I hate to have to tell ya this, but I figure I oughtta give ya a heads up... Yuffie's out to get ya. She wants to be your girlfriend."

Vincent's head snaps up pretty quick. "What? Ew. I mean, uh..."

"Cid!" Yuffie glares at me. She punches me in the shoulder, and I can no longer hold back from laughing as she runs out of the classroom.

Vincent has managed to stand up and is trying to take my own backpack from me, instead of his. Although, if he's not awake enough to realize which bag belongs to him, I don't think he cares which one he carries.

"What's up, Vince?" I ask as we walk to my house. "You were so happy this morning."

"Mrrmh," he shrugs a shoulder.

"I see."

Once inside, Vincent trudges up the stairs to my room, and I head to the kitchen for a quick snack before following him.

He's laying on my bed, probably asleep already. "Vince, get up," I sigh. He does so, lazily, and I help him take off my backpack and his jacket. As I get the covers pulled back for him, he wanders over to the bookshelf and picks something up. He hands the book to me and slides into bed, eyes already closed before his head hits the pillow.

"What, you want me to read?" I ask. He nods.

"Read to you?" I press further. He nods again.

"Well, alright then." I can't help but smile a little at such an odd request.

As soon as I climb into bed, Vincent shifts closer until he's curled up against me. I jump as a chilled hand slips under my shirt and rests on my stomach. Strangely, it's not the hand's placement that bothers me, but only the temperature of it. "Hey. You're cold."

"You're not," he mumbles sleepily. Touche. He sighs contentedly as I open the book and begin to read.

"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like 'I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming; 'Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?'"

I can feel Vincent smile against my arm. I love to make him happy. So I read until sleep is nagging at me as well and making my eyelids heavy. I let the book drop to the carpet and give in.

----

I get a weird feeling. I can't really explain it, but maybe I know that someone's staring at me. I stir myself awake. "Mm, hey Vince." He's sitting up next to me, his hand still on my stomach, and just watching me.

"Yuffie... wants to... be my girlfriend?" he asks, brows drawn together with concern.

"I think so. Look at this," I laugh as I dig the note out of my pocket and show it to him. "Do you like her?"

He frowns as he takes the paper from me. "Well, of course I like her. But I really don't like her like that." As he reads over the words, a small smile comes to his face. "You really think I'm cute, Cid?"

"I, uh, well, you know..."

His features and his actions seem so childlike sometimes. Like the way he observes things, stares in wonder like it's all so overwhelming to him, and he just wants to take it all in.

It's like Reno's little sister, Elena. She didn't have the opportunity to live out a normal childhood, so when they took her in, she was a few years behind in maturity. I wonder if Vincent is the same way.

And with the way he's become so gentle with me. It's always a little surprising when the anger seems to just fade away and all that's left is a little boy who wants love and who wants to be normal. I've never seen him do that in front of anyone else though. Only when it's just the two of us.

He raises my shirt just enough so he can lean over and kiss just above my navel, then let his cheek rest against my stomach. This starts to trigger certain feelings in a certain part of my body.

"Vincent, come up here," I manage to find the words. "Can I give you a hug?"

He comes face to face to me. "You can do anything you want with me right now." His pretty red eyes, which are actually focused on mine and not shifting around nervously, seem more bright and animated than usual. They flitter shut as he lowers his head, and I raise mine, and our lips press lightly in a kiss.

In rare moments like these, I find it difficult to imagine Vincent as the violent creature he describes. Even with what I've seen and been told, it barely seems possible. For a minute, all I believe is that he's capable of only love and affection, and a better first kiss, I could never ask for.

"Something... I'm supposed to ask you..." he quietly wonders out loud. "Oh yes," he remembers slowly. "Would I like to ask my friend Cid to stay the night after school tomorrow, was what Reeve's mum asked me this morning."

"Would you like to ask?" I ask.

"Yes, Cid. And she said to make sure pizza will be okay for dinner."

"Of course," I smile, trying not to act overexcited.

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Awwwwwwww...

TBC, yo!