I keep forgetting to update this thing...here's chapter six!
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. You're welcome to use Rocket Fields, but since it doesn't technically exist in-game, you may want to explain that it's where the Rocket used to be.
Chapter six, otherwise named: 'We've got romance, we've got angst...we've got romangst!'
To anyone else, it would seem as though everything was back to normal. Cid worked, Vincent helped, and the days passed by at the same leisurely pace as a summer breeze. The ex-Turk though, being as acutely observational as he was, could detect the slightest of changes in Cid's behaviour. The man had gone back to being endlessly busy with fixing things, and even Vincent was having a hard time dragging him out to Rocket Fields to relax. He also seemed to talk less; of course, Cid rarely talked as he worked due to his concentration on what he was doing, but that had always been an easy, comfortable silence. Now it just felt awkward and heavy with words unsaid.
Something was eating at Cid. Vincent was positive that it was to do with their discussion in Rocket Fields, but he still wasn't sure just what it was. He'd been finding any excuse to help Cid so he could shadow the pilot and figure it out, but so far he'd learned nothing.
"Wrench," Cid grunted as he worked on the Tiny Bronco's engine once again, holding a hand out in expectation. Vincent passed it over, somewhat saddened that Cid did not so much as glance at him, and watched as the man fixed up the plane like a master artisan. There was something hypnotic about watching Cid work - almost like a machine himself, from the nimbleness of his fingers to the movements of his elbow, and the way the muscles shifted beneath skin and cloth.
"Screwdriver, second from the right," He was snapped out of his reverie by Cid's words, but wasted no time in handing the tool across. Their fingers brushed on the handle, and Cid glanced up at him then, but his eyes quickly flicked back to the engine.
Vincent pulled his hand back, fingertips still tingling, and wondered if Cid's touch had meant so much to him before.
He went back to watching Cid, watching the pilot's fingers skillfully turn the screwdriver. Had Cid felt that touch too? He'd glanced up, but not for long...maybe it was only Vincent...
His chest constricted painfully, and he abruptly looked away from Cid and towards Rocket Fields. Part of him wanted to move closer to Cid, but he wasn't sure why - maybe to seize the man and tell him to start giving more attention to other people than to his machines. But Cid had always prized his Tiny Bronco and his airship above all else...which is why he still couldn't understand why Cid would give that up to marry Shera. The woman was kind enough, but she wasn't the sky, and Cid worshipped the sky.
Cid shouldn't have married Shera.
Vincent recalled the detached numbness he'd felt on Cid's wedding day, and realised that maybe he'd known that all along.
Maybe Cid had realised it too, and that was why he was being so quiet...or maybe he was just angry that his friend hadn't been happy for him on his wedding day. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, raking his fingers through his long, inky-black hair. So much confusion...
When he opened his eyes again, he found Cid had stopped working to stare at him. He had that same look of awe and hunger in his eyes, just as he'd had on the day they'd made brownies for Shera.
He blinked, and tilted his head sideways in confusion: "Cid?"
"That's it," Cid's voice was hoarse, and there was a certain finality with which he placed the screwdriver on the workbench, "I can't take it anymore."
"Take what Chie-"
And Cid was kissing him.
Cid was kissing him.
His first instinct was to bring his hands up to push Cid away; but then Cid leaned in further, and he found his fingers curling around the man's shoulders instead. Cid's hands had been braced against the wall of the house, effectively trapping Vincent - but when he realised the gunner wasn't going to run away he relaxed, one hand reaching up to Vincent's face so that his knuckles just brushed the white jawline.
They had to break apart for air, and Vincent found himself breathless for the first time in - well, ever. He clung to the pilot as he uttered the only word he could think of: "Cid..."
"Cid! Vincent! Time for dinner!"
Both men froze at the sound of Shera's voice, and Cid tore himself away as though he had been burned. The two stared at each other, both unsure what to do.
"We should - we should probably go inside," Cid declared at last, his voice still shaky. Vincent couldn't do much more than nod, before he practically fled into the house without glancing back.
Dinner was a silent and awkward affair, with neither Cid nor Vincent able to look each other in the eye. Shera seemed to pick up on this, switching her gaze between the two with a look of puzzlement.
"You're both very quiet," She said at last, "Have you two had an argument?"
The pair glanced at each other then; Cid froze mid-mouthful, but didn't say anything. Realising that it was up to him, Vincent cleared his throat softly.
"No Miss Shera, we have not," He assured her, "It's simply been a long day, that's all. We're both quite tired."
"Alright then. You can head off to bed early if you want, I'll tidy the dishes away."
"My thanks," Vincent murmured, and excused himself from the table. Cid quickly followed, and caught up to the ex-Turk at the top of the stairs.
"Vin, wait up."
"You shouldn't have done that."
The blond pilot blinked; "Eh?"
"You shouldn't have done that," Vincent repeated firmly, "You can't just go around kissing, especially when Shera is so close at hand."
"I tried! I was tryin' not to kiss you the entire time I was fixin' the plane!" Vincent's eyes widened at that; was that why Cid had refused to look at him...? "You were just there, an' you looked so - so - look, I just couldn't help myself, alright?"
"That's no excuse, Cid," The gunner pointed out, eyes narrowed, "You can't do this, you're a married man-"
"You think I don't know?!" Cid's tone was fierce, but he kept his voice down to an angry whisper, careful not to alert Shera, "It's just...#!£&, Vin, every time I see you, I just..."
"Is that the effect I have on you?" Vincent asked softly, and Cid nodded, "Then maybe I should leave."
"What?! No!" Blues eyes widened in momentary panic, "I only just got you back after two #!£&in' years, you can't leave again!"
"Then what else am I supposed to do?" Vincent asked lowly, "You are married, Cid, to the woman downstairs. This can't happen again."
"It won't," Cid promised him, "I won't do it again, I swear. Just - just - don't leave again, okay? I don't think I could take another two years of not seein' you."
"...Fine," A part of him didn't actually want to leave, but another part was telling him that staying was not the best of ideas. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your view - the latter part lost the argument, "This never happened, and it never will happen, understood?"
"Right," Cid said quietly, although his expression was forlorn, "Well then...g'night, Vince."
He watched the other man slink away somewhat dejectedly, that same tightened feeling in his chest as earlier. It hurt, to see Cid so downcast, even if it was for the best.
I want it as much as you do, Cid, Vincent thought as the door to Cid and Shera's bedroom closed, and the corridor was left silent, But a relationship like that...it'll only end in tears.