Look! We're on schedule! Be proud of us.

...And for the chapter, bear with us. ^^;

"Anything specific?" Cid called back from the kitchen, head stuck into the refrigerator. He had no more pancake batter, but he did have bread, a toaster, cheese, eggs, and some sliced ham that didn't appear to be too old; someone had been shopping for him while he'd been unable to do it himself.

"Not really," Vincent called back as he began to search for the remote. "As long it won't kill me or make me ill, I'm pretty easy." He said distractedly as he dug in between the couch cushions. Finally finding it with a satisfied "Ah-ha!" he plopped himself back down onto the couch and began flipping through channels before remembering with chagrin that what he was doing was indeed quite rude. Setting the remote down on the coffee table – where he could find it again – he got up and wandered into the kitchen. "May I help with anything?"

Cid grinned sheepishly again. "Might wanna help, yeah, if y'want somethin' that won't make ya sick." He tried to keep his eyes from wandering over Vincent's body; those pants really rode much too low. "Prob'ly just gonna make sandwiches, though, with this stuff," he said, gesturing at the ingredients he'd laid on the table. "Build yer own." He smiled, shrugging. He couldn't help himself, though, when Vincent turned to the table. Cid stepped up behind him and put his arms around him, feeling the warmth of Vincent's flesh against his own. "While you do that, I'mma go put somethin' on. Don't reckon visitors'd be too pleased with me, if we get any."

Vincent snorted. "Probably not, no." He actually didn't mind Cid being behind him, nor of the man's arms around him. But it would make him more comfortable if Cid put something on. So while Highwind did that Vincent set about putting together a simple a simple sandwich but decided on something a little more elaborate. "Cid?" He called, "May I use your skillet, if you have one?"

"F'you c'n find it," Cid called back from the hallway. He felt good now; he had showered and was wearing clean clothes, and hardly anything was better than that feeling. It made him want to do something with his day, to go somewhere…maybe get back into his workout routine. He'd been neglecting that for some time. Still…the urge to just stay in with Vincent was even stronger, and it was that he gave in to. "Should be in that cabinet there," he said as he reentered the kitchen and found Vincent still searching. "One o' them little ol' bitty ones y're s'posed'a take campin' an' shit. There we go." Cid pulled out the skillet, which was still in its box, though the box was not in very good shape. "Tell th'truth, I dunno if it works 'r not. He pulled it out of the box and poked at it experimentally, deciding that it was probably safe to plug in.

Vincent blinked, momentarily confused as Cid brought out a portable griddle, and then reached forward to still the man's movements. "Cid, darling, that is a griddle," he chuckled, looking up into the cabinet and catching sight of what he was after. Reaching up he snagged it and held up the frying pan. "This," he flicked the bottom of it with his fingers and making a hollow, metallic 'tonk' sound. "Is a skillet. I thought I might make a fried ham and cheese sandwich with egg, would you like me to make you one as well?"

"Uh." Cid was blushing, and he knew it. He frequently made a fool of himself, but he hated for that to happen in front of Vincent. Hated it a lot. "Guess," he said, shrugging, then realized he was only making it worse by being grumpy. "Show-off," he teased, nudging Vincent with an elbow. A corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "But I bet ya can't make as much of a mess as I can."

"I'm sure that I can't." Vincent chuckled. "At any rate, you will forgive me if I do not attempt it." Making quick work of turning on the stove, heating the pan and frying up the eggs, he then put on the bread, ham and melted cheese over the lot of it. When the whole mess was done, he dumped the bottom halves of the sandwiches out onto plates, slapped the egg on top, and then toasted the top slice of bread in the toaster. Mission completed, he help up Cid's plate, grinning, "Voila."

Cid blinked. It took him that amount of time to get dressed some mornings. "Well," he said, and that was all he said, but a very large grin had taken up residence on his face. "Have a seat, then," he said as he took his plate and placed it on the table. "Somethin' t'drink?"

"Water shall be sufficient, thank you." Vincent said quietly as he hesitantly sat down at the table. "I hope you thoroughly cleaned this, Cid."

Cid grinned and took his seat after handing Vincent a bottle of cool water. "An' what if I didn't?" he asked quietly."I ain't been home since then, not really. 'Sides, there wouldn't be nothin' on it but us, an' there ain't no harm in that." He would have kept up the charade, but Vincent seemed on the verge of moving back to the couch. "I scrubbed it, an' Shera did too when she guessed. Damn perceptive women."

"She knew?" Vincent whispered, horrified. Putting his sandwich down, he groaned and placed his face in his hands. It was bad enough that he had to remember being spread out on his back like some main course, moaning and sucking Cid's fingers while he jerked off and been…but to have someone else know about it? Someone who wouldn't understand? Shame burned his face bright red.

Cid chuckled. "Don't you worry yer pretty little head over her. She won't ever say nothin'. Not t'you, an' not t'anyone else. Only reason I know she knew is 'cause she blushed 'bout th'color you are now." His eyes softened on Vincent, who still seemed to be struggling with this for some reason. "Don't be ashamed of anything we do t'gether, Vincent. C'n ya try t'do that for me? I ain't ashamed. I know I'm damned lucky that y'trust me enough t'come back here after that, an' I'm glad for it."

"I'm not, that is what bothers me," Vincent said looking down at his plate and poking at his sandwich. "Not really…okay, perhaps a little…some." He mumbled, slumping in his seat. He pushed his plate away from him. "But why does it bother me, Cid? I'm not gay, I don't…I haven't…oh gods," he broke off, horrified, as he realized what it was that had been 'off' since the beginning. "I'm gay?" He looked up at Cid pleadingly, desperately hoping Cid would tell him was just imagining things, but knowing deep down that he would not get that reassurance. "I'm gay," he said flatly, staring at the table as though condemned.

"No you ain't. Yer openminded. An' damn anybody who tries tellin' ya anything about it. 'Sides, nobody needs t'know what happens 'tween us 'cept us." Cid set down his sandwich and moved to stand behind Vincent. "Close yer eyes." He waited until Vincent had complied, then set both hands on the other man's shoulders. "Now don't think about who I am, who you are, what diff'rences there might be b'tween us…or similarities. Just feel." He began massaging Vincent's shoulders earnestly, albeit a bit clumsily. After a few moments, when Vincent's breathing was even and the muscles under Cid's hands had relaxed a bit, Cid leaned forward and kissed him behind the ear, down his neck and back up. "Whaddaya feel now?"

"Shivery," Vincent whispered, and did indeed shiver. "My body tingles. I feel lips, heat, pressure. I want to touch. I feel...aching, my stomach is churning…desire…" He waited; his skin alive with anticipation for what might come next.

Cid shivered in response before continuing, "An' if a woman had done it? One ya really liked? Would ya feel th'same way, y'reckon?" More kisses then; he couldn't waste this moment on speaking alone.

Vincent's mind whirled back to the first time Lucrecia had instigated foreplay by kissing his bare back, and feathering her fingers down his spine and up his sides, her long, soft hair falling around them in a sweet-smelling curtain. He had felt the same, and yet it had been vastly different. He tipped his head back, exposing his throat, and gripped the edge of his chair, hard, feeling the muscles of his forearms bunch tightly. It was a simple question with such a complicated answer! "Yes," breathed out before he knew what had happened.

Cid smiled almost sadly; he knew Vincent must be thinking of Lucrecia. Keeping his hands on Vincent's shoulders, he moved to stand beside the chair and gently lifted one of Vincent's arms, prepared to pry it from the chair but finding that it came free quite easily. He brought the hand of that arm to his waist, his back. "Touch. Don't look yet, but touch."

With a shuddering breath, Vincent did as he was told, slowly sliding his hands over skin that was rougher than a woman's, and yet no less soft in its unique texture. Where a woman's skin was smooth, he now encountered tiny imperfections, and fine hairs. The body under his hands was hard, flat, lacking the rich and yielding curves possessed by a woman. The presence was strong, dominant; it drew him, yet made him afraid. There was power under his hands, he could feel the need for control in the very way that body stood beside him. But under it all, he felt the tiny, light fluttering of muscle as his fingers traced hard planes. He heard the fine hitching of a breath that came in short pants. His brows furrowed and he shook his head, confused, "I.."

"Shh. An' when y'touched her?" Oh, he hated to reference her directly, but one could only dance around a topic so much.

"Cherry blossoms," Vincent whispered shakily. "She smelled of cherry blossoms in the summer sun." But that wasn't what Cid was asking, was it? "Shivering, panting, so very soft." Unconsciously, Vincent began to pet Cid's abdomen. He leaned forward and ran his lips back and forth over the skin he found there. "Breath hitching, a sigh, a caress, a whispered word, peace…"

"Ohh…" It was so very hard to keep his focus now. "Vincent," he whispered, caught between flinching away and begging for more. His hands, which had been gripping the back of the chair since Vincent had started touching him, now moved to glide over Vincent's sides. "Y'see?" he panted. "You c'n appreciate her body; c'n do th'same with mine. C'n bring pleasure t'either of us, an' either of us c'd bring it t'you. You c'n want her, c'n want me- hell, you c'd love both of us if y'ever got yer mind around to it. 'Gay' is a label, Vincent. A title. Somethin' people get slapped on 'em fer silly reasons, or somethin' they slap on themselves fer even sillier ones. It doesn't mean anything on its own, nothin' but 'happy,' right? Y're too strong, Vincent, t'let th'fear of a title keep ya from what y'want." Cid was trembling now, all over; he couldn't quite figure out just how Vincent kept doing this to him. He kept caressing, kissed a hand that wandered up far enough for him to reach with his mouth, and said quietly, "Who d'ya see right now, Vincent? Not her, an' it's not me, is it? It's just someone, someone who loves ya, someone who wants t'make ya feel good, an' that's what matters."

But he did. Vincent did see her, with her long brown hair, unbound and blowing about her pixie-like face as she laughed, and her enormous brown eyes filled with the dancing light of love for only him. She was dressed in a white summer dress, the one he had bought her for her birthday the year before they married. She held a yellow lily to her nose and her other hand was outstretched to him. Nearly fourteen years now she had been gone, and Cid had summoned her forth as easily as though he had command over the dead. He turned in his chair, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Cid's waist, and rested his cheek against the man in front of him. Sleep now, sweetheart, he thought as she slowly faded from his minds-eye, the simple fresh-water pearl at her throat flashing with the white light of a single snowflake in the sun. You do not want to come back to me now. And as she faded away with a whispered I love you, he realized that Lucrecia was the one who must let him go; or rather he must let her go. The creature he was now did not deserve that heaven any longer, not that he ever had. He tightened his arms around Cid's waist and shut his eyes. "Someone…" He murmured in Wutainese. "Will you be that someone now, Cid? Will you be my light in the long dark of damnation?" Deep down, he realized that male or female, it didn't really matter when you felt as you did towards another. He could learn, he could…all he needed was time. He looked up at Cid, his mind made up. "I would like to try," he said in the language of Midgar…the consequences and Sephiroth be damned.

Cid's chest ached as Vincent clung to him. He must have loved her so much…what wouldn't Cid give to be loved so much? He could think of nothing, save his own love for Vincent, that he would refuse to trade to Fate for a love like that. But then, bought love was insincere by definition, and that was a burden he would not wish on himself or the other party. But to be loved that way, the way he loved Vincent, the way Vincent loved Lucrecia…! Having seen it in action, the prospect of a life without it left Cid feeling as if he had been stabbed through the heart. Still, he decided it would be enough to bestow that love upon another and hope that one day it would be returned.

He rested a hand on Vincent's head and the other around his shoulders as they remained that way, silence unbroken until Vincent spoke. This time, the Wutainese babbling was a little disconcerting; it sounded so much sadder now. Still, the foreign words falling from Vincent's lips, especially while they still lay against his skin, sent a shudder of desire through Cid. The next words, this time fully understandable, shot a potent dose of hope and joy through his veins. He wanted to thank Vincent, to shout to the heavens how grateful he was for just the chance, but he settled for bending to kiss Vincent's forehead, which was about all he could reach with Vincent's arms still around him. His hands shook as he cupped Vincent's face. He was sure his elation showed in his eyes as they looked at each other. "I love you," he murmured, needing to say something just to prove to himself that he was really here. "Can we- Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Vincent breathed.

Cid sighed in relief and closed his eyes briefly before leaning over awkwardly, which loosened Vincent's grip on him, and pressing his lips to the other man's gently. Their mouths remained closed for a long time as, with infinite care, Cid kissed Vincent's face and lips, trying to learn to use his actions instead of his words to show what he wanted to say. Vincent seemed to respond better to that, and he wouldn't want to try to make Vincent change. Soon his lips were back on Vincent's, and his tongue was teasing along Vincent's bottom lip for just a moment before the mouth under his opened to him easily, almost eagerly.

Cid kissed passionately, firmly, but still tenderly, trying not to be carried away by fleeting stabs of lust that threatened to knock him off his feet if they came any closer. He distantly heard himself moan into the kiss as he attempted to forcibly divert his mind. Their tongues moved together in almost perfect rhythm, as if they had spent years learning to kiss each other and had perfected the art. His hands had moved, and one rested on the back of Vincent's neck while the other rested low on his back. The curve Cid was making with his body would probably have been uncomfortable had the reward not been so pleasant. He pressed further forward and felt a stumble coming on; he'd manage to make his position even less stable. He attempted to rock back on his heels, but that did no good.

The hand on Vincent's back flew up to grip the back of the chair instead, and Cid broke the kiss briefly to sigh in relief. If he'd sent both of them toppling over- well, it probably would have been funny after they'd examined the damage done, but it would also have quite thoroughly ruined the mood…whatever this mood was. He gently tugged Vincent up to stand with him, then set to kissing him again, holding him close and very firmly not caring that he had managed to break the chair a little.

Vincent's head swam. He was dizzy, aroused, confused…consumed, by Cid. He was distantly aware of Cid standing him up, but became a bit more lucid, but no less aroused when the cop reached around behind him and pushed his plate and uneaten sandwich back on the table. He moaned when Cid forced him to sit on the table and maneuvered in between his thighs, spreading them wide apart to press their bodies together. When Cid began tugging at his waistband, Vincent's mind cleared and he broke the kiss. "C-Cid, no, not the…table again, please…" Only to lose the rest of his protestation in another devouring kiss. Cid was moving so fast…too fast!

"Just wanna touch ya, I just want…" Cid lost himself in kissing Vincent, registering after a few more hungry moments that he had heard the word "no," something he had promised to respond to. He slowed, stopped, and pulled back. "Stop?" he asked morosely, pangs of guilt plaguing him for feeling as put out as he did.

Vincent was trembling, and had to wrap his arms around Cid to keep from all out shaking. "It's just too fast, Cid, I'm sorry." He gasped between panted breaths. He could feel Cid's erection pressing hard against his own groin, and he knew that it had to be terribly uncomfortable. He brought his lips back to Cid's in a slow, deep kiss that he used to hide his nerves upon his next question. Pulling back far enough to speak, he reached down in between Cid's legs and rubbed the concealed, hard length he felt there. "Would you like me to pleasure you?"

Cid made a sound then that could have been called a groan had it not been so ridiculously drawn out and tortured. Vincent's hand felt so good, and he just barely touching…Cid had to calm down. "I know. Always go too fast, m'sorry. Y'just get me so goddamn worked up." He rested his head against Vincent's, panting. He hadn't yet answered Vincent's question, but he figured the way he was barely keeping himself from rutting against Vincent's hand was probably answer enough. He spoke again anyway. "I…yeah. I'd like that. I'd like it a lot. But not unless I get t'do th'same fer you." Trying to chase the light contact of Vincent's touch and trying to cool down were not compatible, so he stopped moving. "What would…what would y'like t'do?" he asked, hoping Vincent had some suggestion. Cid, at this point, would be up for just about anything that involved himself and Vincent.

Vincent didn't know what Cid meant by that, but he spared it no further thought as he swallowed and steeled himself for the task at hand. If there was one thing that he was good at, it was giving a man oral pleasure. He gently pushed Cid back, and eased off of the table. Nausea twisted his gut almost painfully, but he choked it back. "Just-" he broke off as his voice caught in his throat. He cleared it quietly and turned so that he could guide Highwind down onto the chair that he had just vacated, cheeks hot. "Just sit, that is all you have to do." With his heart thundering in his chest and echoing in his ears, he dropped down onto his knees and tugged at Cid's boxers until they were over the man's hips and down around his ankles, then off. He took a moment to look at the thick, erect cock in front of him. I can do this, he thought as he attempted to regulate his breathing. He shut his eyes and found that still, cold place in his mind that let him focus. Then with a sort of detached determination he set to work.

"Oh." Cid's mouth fell open to form an 'o' as he emitted that soft exclamation at the feeling of Vincent's tongue running over him. He remained entranced for only a few seconds before realizing what he was allowing. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Not like this." He gently lifted Vincent's head away from him and continued, "Not on yer knees like that. Not fer me. Not ever fer me." He also slid to his knees and kissed Vincent much the same way he had earlier. "Y're better'n that, an' y'don't hafta act like you ain't." They needed to be out of the kitchen, maybe even off the floor. He was saddened by the knowledge that Vincent still seemed to think he had an obligation to please Cid for nothing in return…or even to please him at all. Even so, he was a little concerned that a flat-out refusal to accept what he was willing to give would offend Vincent somehow. They would compromise. "If y'wanna give that t'me, I'll gladly take it, but only if y'let me do it too." He stood shakily and extended a hand to Vincent. "Be more comf'table back in bed, I reckon."

Vincent only heard the buzzing in his ears, as a cold chill shot down his spine. He had cringed when Cid had touched him, stiffened when the cop had kissed him. "Yes, sir." He whispered, taking Cid's hand and standing obediently, keeping is eyes downcast. He was frightened, nervous and on the verge of panic. By default, Vincent had slipped into survival mode, and was running on sheer reflex that would best please his partner and keep him from getting hurt. "May we please stay here, sir?" He asked, his eyes wide and flicking around the room. At least here, he could see what was coming at him; bedrooms meant blood, bathrooms meant water… "Please?" He was shaking so hard now that his teeth were chattering.

Cid went very quickly from alarmed to angry at Shinra to downright terrified. "I- of course we can. Course we can." He was afraid to touch Vincent anymore, and afraid not to. All thoughts of pleasure had fled him, and he knew his erection was deflating, but he did not care. 'Sir,' Vincent had called him…Cid never wanted to hear the word from Vincent's mouth again. He wanted to chastise, but knew that would only send things downhill more quickly, wanted to rage at Shinra but could not bear to make Vincent flinch away from him. "Vincent, what…what can I do t'make it better? Please tell me," he said, barely restraining a dry sob. "I didn't mean t'make you afraid o' me. That's th'last thing I want." He grabbed hold of both of Vincent's hands and held them gently, stroking the backs with his thumbs. He tried to capture Vincent's eyes with his own, but the red ones were still flitting around the room, looking for an escape their owner would not dare to make. "Do- do you want me…not to touch ya? I don't…Vincent, I don't know," he whispered. And here he had thought the only way Vincent could break his heart was to walk out the door.

Why wasn't he doing anything? Why weren't they going anywhere? Vincent's breathing came faster and faster, and he broke out into a sweat. He wanted to pull his hands out of the grip that held then, but he didn't dare because then those hands would hit him, or choke him. So he stood frozen, legs locked in place as his panic rose to an unbearable level. Finally his body could take no more and his eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted dead away, hitting the floor with a dull thud.