Eheh...I'm aware that this hasn't been updated in a while, but my life life seems to have caught up with me. Updates will be a lot less structured from now on, what with my hazardous schedule, so...yeah. I'll update it when I can.
Warnings: Is this yaoi, you ask? Of course it is! I write nothing BUT yaoi! For those who are still hopelessly green, yaoi is boys with boys (or in this case, men with men, rawr). The pairing is, or eventually will be, Cid/Vincent. If you don't like that then you either stumbled across this by accident, or you're in some serious denial; whatever the reason, just hit the back button.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, but sadly the characters are not - they belong to Square Enix/Squaresoft, and that Japanese guy whose name I can never remember. I can't prevent it, but please don't steal the fic idea; you can come up with your own.
Chapter three, otherwise named: 'Vincent just isn't into the laydeez'.
Southern hospitality was a wondrous thing, Vincent soon found out. Truthfully, he hadn't expected Cid and Shera to say yes, and so eagerly at that. He'd only intended to stay for a few days, but it soon became a week, then two weeks, and so on. Eventually he had to insist on helping around the house, just so he wouldn't feel as though he were using the place as a free hotel.
Cid and Shera's life in Rocket Town seemed peaceful - save Cid's temper, of course, but that rarely went further than heated words and the pilot storming out to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in five minutes. Really, it was wonder the man hadn't already contracted lung cancer.
One thing Vincent noticed about Cid, though...he always seemed so restless. Of course, Cid was hardly the laid-back type, but now it was more prominent than ever - every minute of every day was filled with activity, taking things apart and putting them back together again. Even that which didn't need fixing, like tuning up the Tiny Bronco when it was already in perfect shape.
"Miss Shera," Vincent asked the woman as he helped her wash the dishes one day, "Is Cid always this busy, or is it just since I arrived...?"
"Hm? No, he's always like that," Shera told him cheerfully, "The Captain likes to keep a full schedule, I suppose. He used to spend most of his free time in the Rocket, but since it was launched...well, I guess he doesn't have much to do."
"I see," Vincent nodded, and said no more.
"You could always open a mechanics shop."
"Eh?" Cid looked up from the engine of the Tiny Bronco, face smudged with oil, "You say somethin', Vin?"
"I said you could open a mechanics shop," Vincent repeated, "You spend all your spare time fixing things, mighty as well do it for a living."
"What for? I don't need any money."
"It'd be something to do, though, to keep you from getting bored."
"I guess. Pass me that wrench across, would ya?" Vincent did so, and managed to get his hand covered in oil when he brushed against Cid's fingers. He wiped it absentmindedly on his trousers as he watched Cid lean forwards into the engine.
"It'd be a wasted effort out here, though. Wouldn't get any customers," Cid continued, emerging even more blackened by oil, "I'd have to go to Midgar an' I #!£&in' hate it there. Can't even see the sky past all the pollution."
"What about your airship? Delivery or transportation, something like that."
"My crew's already using my airship for that. I could join 'em, but then I'd be leavin' Shera behind, an' she couldn't come with 'cause she hates travellin'," The pilot answered, and grabbed a nearby rag to wipe his hands with, "Price of marriage, y'see. Can't go flyin' no more."
"Huh..." Vincent leaned back against the wall of the house, arms folded, "And yet you love the sky...I never thought you'd give it up for marriage."
Cid shrugged; "Can't stay a bachelor forever."
Vincent observed as Cid finished wiping his hands, closing the Tiny Bronco's engine and inspecting the flawless surface of the metal. Apparently it wasn't flawless enough, however, since he grabbed another cloth and began to polish the already-shiny bodywork. Vincent fell on Cid's hand in particular, and the golden band secured around his ring finger. Married...even now, after all this time, it still felt as though it wasn't real, like the wedding had all been a dream. Perhaps it was just a matter of getting used to it.
"What about you, Vin?" Cid's voice cut through Vincent's thoughts, causing him to look up into sky-blue eyes, "Would you ever do it? Settle down with a good woman?"
"I doubt it," The thought required almost no contemplation, "Not after Lucrecia..."
"Still hung up on her, huh?" Cid laughed softly. Anyone else would have earned a death-glare from Vincent for that, but he knew that Cid meant no offense. The man could be tactless at the best of times, but Vincent didn't mind that so much.
"Is she your first and last, then?" Cid asked again, "You'd never get together with anyone ever again?"
"I suppose it's possible," Vincent answered thoughtfully, "If it was the right person...why?"
"No reason," A grin came to the other man's face, "Although maybe I'm curious as to who you'd end up with. What's your type?"
"Cid, if you try and set me up on a date, I'll-"
"Shoot me in the foot, I know," Cid waved a hand carelessly, "I wouldn't anyway. I can imagine Tifa tryin' to, though...she's into that sort of thing."
"I'll shoot her in the foot too."
"I think that's why she hasn't tried yet," Cid took a seat on his workbench, eyes squinted in concentration, "Who would be your type, though...? Maybe someone who's quiet and private, like you?"
"That isn't necessarily true," Vincent pointed out, "For all you know, I might want my polar opposite."
"Loud, hyperactive and annoying?" Cid quirked an eyebrow, "You'd better not be thinkin' of datin' that brat, Vin."
"Yuffie?" Vincent would have paled, but he was already pale, and so no distress was apparent, "...She's not my type."
"I suppose there's already Tifa. Or that Turk girl, Elena. Or Scarlet, if evil laughs are your thing."
"...Maybe I'll just stay single."