A/N: Been having a lot of trouble writing lately, tbh. Didn't want to post this at first, but figured I finished it so I might as well.

'Come to Seventh Heaven tonight.' the text from Tifa reads. Then, immediately after: 'It's important.'

It isn't so much an invitation as it is a demand, and Cid sighs. Today had been particularly long: hours of almost nonstop flight ferrying supplies for the WRO's rebuilding project after the Deepground disaster. Reeve had been running him in circles the past few months and to be honest, Cid was just ready for a long smoke and maybe a few drinks before retiring to his cabin for the night. Today also just so happened to be his birthday, which made him all the more wanting to sit down on his ass and just relax, especially after such a dragging day. It didn't escape him though that Tifa might've needed help with something, and Cid wasn't that selfish no matter the occasion. A friend is a friend, birthday be damned.

Fortunately, they'd just finished their rounds for the evening, and so Cid, ultimately having nothing better to do, shoots Tifa a response that he'll be there and tiredly orders the pilot at the helm to set a course for Edge.

"Yes, Captain. Setting a course for Edge, ETA one hour," the pilot calls out, saluting and adjusting the steering wheel appropriately.

And then they're off.

Edge is a bit like Midgar if Midgar were in perpetual grayscale. It's a clunky, steel and concrete monster of a city, not nearly as bright or spirited as Midgar and lacking its own identifiable character, but is just as bustling. Like its predecessor, the air here is often smoggy, and greenery is nonexistent. Every time he visits, Cid has to remind himself that people live here not out of desire, but necessity, as reinforced by the Meteor monument in the central plaza.

Perhaps the most impressive feature of the city is its airport, which is sizable, but still leaves much to be desired. As the Shera lands and docks on the strip, Cid retrieves a cigarette from the pack of Malboros tucked in his goggles and lights up, taking in a sweet inhale of nicotine and that familiar, musty Edge air.

After dismissing his crew for the night, he finds his way to the bar easily, dodging mostly foot traffic and strewn about debris. The street where the bar is located is less busy, the modest business sign aloft the building a welcoming sight.

Cid finishes his cigarette by the time he steps into the bar, completely unsuspecting, and almost as soon as he does, he's greeted by a chorus of "SURPRISE!"

His gaze shoots up and he spots, aside from a few patrons, almost all of AVALANCHE. Tifa smiles at him warmly from behind the bar, her red eyes shining. Cloud and Barret throw him a nod from their stools. Yuffie and Reeve, in the flesh, wave at him from their table. Nanaki, sitting near them, gives him a muzzled smile, his red fur and fire-tipped tail standing out against the dull colors of their environment. Everyone except Vincent is present, the pilot notices, and he tries not to let the disappointment settling in his stomach swallow him whole.

Now Vincent's normally off doing his own thing, which is no surprise, but Cid figures that if everyone else got together, then they must have planned it and Vincent was included. It didn't help that he and Vincent were… close, even closer than the rest of the team. Or at least, it seemed that way to Cid these past few years: a handful of nights drinking under the stars, talking about everything and nothing in particular (even if it was Cid doing most of the talking, Vincent at least had the decency to listen). Vincent had become a real companion to him, in spite of the man's strange and aloof nature. There was just this unspoken understanding between the two men whenever they met, an odd sort of camaraderie blossomed from what felt like a lifetime on the road and in the skies together as a team, countless nights in shared inn rooms, spears and hails of bullets coming in between death and each other.

Cid had come to see Vincent as a damn good friend. Perhaps even more than that, he's reluctantly come to realize, what with the way his heart picks up every time he lays eyes on the man. The way Vincent's absence stings like bees in Cid's chest, like he's expecting something that'll never come. Though Cid isn't surprised, he still couldn't help but hurt quite a bit.

Regardless, a grin wrestles its way onto his face. "What the hell's everybody doin' here?"

"We heard it was someone's special day," Yuffie beams back, bouncing in her seat.

"Ya heard right," Cid confirms, and then, because of course he can't help but ask, "Say, where's Vincent?"

Yuffie's smile slides off her face as she scoffs. "Who knows? He's already aware of what we'd been planning since I told him last week." She takes a bite of her wings, continuing to speak around a mouthful of chicken. "I've been blowin' up his phone all night!"

"Yeah, well, he's probably thrown it off a cliff now, thanks to you," Barret says, rolling his eyes. "Now can't nobody reach him."

Yuffie sticks out her tongue at him, and for a brief moment Cid toys with the idea of contacting Vincent himself. Neither of the two men were texters, so that was mostly out of the question. Vincent answered the phone, usually, whenever Cid called, and if he didn't he at least had the courtesy to call Cid back at his earliest convenience. However, it didn't escape Cid the possibility that Vincent was busy or simply didn't want to come, for whatever reason. And, well, if that were the case, that would be an awkward conversation, to say the least.

"Want a drink, Cid?" Tifa calls from behind the bar, shaking him from his thoughts.

"Sure, Tifa," Cid says, deciding to take a seat at Yuffie, Reeve, and Nanaki's table. "Gimme somethin' strong."

He'll need it to get his mind off of Vincent. Curb the gnawing at his chest.

"Coming right up! Don't forget to eat, by the way. You don't want this on an empty stomach, trust me," Tifa advises, giving him a wink.

Cid casts his eyes around the table. It's all typical bar food: burgers, wings, chips, and sandwiches, but it all looks good to Cid, who's yet to eat dinner and was quite frankly starving. Yuffie pushes a burger at him, gesturing for him to eat.

"No one's touched it," she says. "Promise."

"Cid," Reeve calls from across the table. "Long time, no see."

"Tch, I've been seein' too much of yer ass," Cid says, wondering just how Reeve managed to find the time to attend. Man was busier than all of them. Had to be, spearheading the WRO. Cid couldn't help but notice he was still in his business suit, probably on call as they were speaking. "I see you'd been plottin' behind my back too."

Reeve chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "All in good faith. You've been deserving of a little treat, if you ask me."

"I haven't seen any of you guys in a while!" Yuffie pipes up.

"Neither have I," floats a voice from behind the table, belonging to none other than Nanaki. His intelligent eyes land on Cid. "It's good to see you, Cid."

"Likewise, Nanaki." Cid nods at him. He's always liked his fluffy friend; he's young but thoughtful, and mostly quiet, simply choosing not to waste words. "Ya been doin' alright?"

"Cosmo Canyon's as peaceful as ever. You ought to visit some time."

"Been meanin' to, actually. Just a busy man."

"It seems that we all have our own lives to lead. Although it's valuable to take some time off every once in a while and get together like this," Nanaki says wisely, and Cid can't help but agree with him.

It does feel good to be surrounded by friends, unsurprisingly. Back in the day he'd have just gotten drunk alone at his favorite bar in Rocket Town, memories of when he was aimless, bitter, washed-up, his dream crumbled and gone up in rocket fuel and smoke. A concerned Shera would drag him home later in the night where she'd left him his favorite dinner on the stove and a sad-looking cake on the kitchen table.

It was a miserable existence that he doesn't know how he survived — a lonely, forgotten Shinra fuck-up. But now, things are different. His dream is realized (after having given Shinra the middle finger, to boot), and now he's got more people who care about him, care enough to stick by him through thick and thin, make him feel like a real person again. Life… truly wasn't so bad anymore, Cid thinks as the night passes on and he watches the others with a deep fondness in his chest. Yuffie and Barret bicker and play-fight like teenagers, Tifa warms up Cloud with drinks and soft smiles, Reeve and Nanaki chat amicably like old friends. Despite not seeing everybody often, being among them all felt strangely like home, only there was someone missing.

And Cid felt that absence hard. He couldn't drink away the thoughts of Vincent, try as he might. Visions of deep, expressive red eyes haunt him like ghosts, taunt him like a wayward puzzle piece to his heart that should be there but wasn't. It'd been months since they'd last seen each other, long months of busywork upon busywork and not enough time to properly yearn for his brooding companion. It hits Cid like a train tonight though, given the occasion, now tinged with a sort of hollowness and meaninglessness that Cid can't help but feel a little guilty for. The thought that the ghost of Vincent could lord over his emotions in such a manner wasn't exactly pleasant, and Cid wonders with another downing of liquor just how he let himself get so pathetic.

He's shaken from his dreary reverie when Barret suddenly gets up from his seat, approaching and clapping a hand on Cid's shoulder. "My man," he grins, seemingly oblivious to Cid's silent angsting. "Gotcha somethin' I think you'll like."

"Better not be another pack of Malboros," Cid sniffs. "Got me enough of them."

Barret shakes his head, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a small, wooden box. He hands it to Cid. "Go 'head and open it up."

When Cid does just that, he also does a double take.

"Motherfucker," he curses, more in awe than anything else, as his eyes roam across the contents of the box. "Do ya know how much these cost?"

Barret laughs and claps him on the shoulder again. "Don't worry, I got the hookup. This is the real premium stuff."

Cid gingerly pinches one of the cigars between his fingers and holds it up to inspect it. Sure enough, there was a fancy, golden seal adorning the roll with the words "Costa del Sol" on it. Not a cheap or thoughtless gift at all.

"Ya want me dead or somethin'?" Cid says, a genuine smile on his face.

Barret laughs again. "Gotta enjoy life while it lasts! Figured you'd appreciate a change of pace for once."

Cid carefully places the cigar back in the humidor and closes the box with an appreciative whistle. He'll have to save these for slower days, when he can really relax and smoke. And speaking of tobacco, his craving was starting to itch again, especially after such a long day.

"Welp, that's my cue." Cid stands up from his seat, stretching his arms above his head. "Headin' out for a smoke. Gonna save these for special occasions."

"Tonight's one ain't it?" Barret points out.

"I'll be outside all night with those. Just need a quick fix; been a long day. Keep an eye on 'em for me, will ya?"

"Sure, sure."

Cid pats Barret on the arm in thanks before making his way out the front door. As fresh air hits his lungs again he can't help but glance around for any sign of an approaching Vincent. Sighs when he sees nobody but drunkards and random passersby, the dreary colors of the city working to further dampen his mood. It'll be a long night, Cid thinks, deciding to instead turn his gaze to the clouds and faint stars beginning to twinkle into view. But they only remind him of Vincent, distant and drifting. Impossible. Lonely.

Cid's beginning to feel a bit lonely himself, in spite of the circumstances. It isn't that he doesn't appreciate his friends, but rather that Vincent took up a space in his chest that he didn't even know was there. He can imagine Vincent here now, standing in a corner with his arms crossed, partaking in the celebration in his own distant, introverted way. Maybe a drink in hand after some needling from Cid.

The thought comforts Cid in a strange way, and he can't help but wonder if Vincent feels lonely, as far away from them all as he is, wherever he is. Eyes still on the darkening sky, Cid finally takes out a cigarette, goes to light it when—

"Had enough already?"

"Shit—" Cid startles so badly that he practically throws his lighter. It clatters to the ground ungracefully, and Cid identifies the encroacher immediately from the voice alone. "How the hell did ya even sneak up like that?"

He then looks around, eyes landing on the missing man in question, who has seemingly materialized out of thin air. Vincent stands a few feet in front of him, all vampiric elegance and beauty, blood red cape cloaked around his slim, black figure. Gun at his hip. Spiked bangs hang over his face, draped around familiar red eyes.

God, the mere sight of him makes Cid's heart dance.

It's almost surreal, seeing the other man in the flesh after months of absence and a night of hankering. Cid drinks in his appearance like a man driven to thirst, eyes not leaving him as he stoops down to retrieve his lighter from the ground.

"I'm gettin' old, Vince," he grunts. "One of these days you'll give me a fuckin' heart attack."

He straightens back up, catching Vincent's crimson gaze. He has the nerve to look only slightly apologetic. "Took yer ass long enough, by the way."

"Sorry," Vincent says, tipping his head behind his cloak collar and obscuring the lower half of his face. "There were a few things that required my attention."

Cid knows Vincent is a busy man as well, doing… whatever it is he does these days. Probably help around with the other side of WRO, but if even Reeve was here, then Cid only had more questions. He doesn't ask, though, sheer excitement bubbling in his chest at the fact that Vincent was finally here. He tries to play it cool.

"Surprised ya even came at all."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Chief." That sentence does a funny number on Cid's insides that he doesn't bother trying to ignore at this point.

"Whatever," he snorts, taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and stuffing it in his jacket pocket. To think that Vincent's mere presence could shove aside his need to smoke. "I know I ain't that special."

Something indiscernible flashes in Vincent's crimson eyes, and for a moment he looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't. Cid pretends not to notice, continuing on. "You hungry? There's food, and I know yer skinny ass hasn't eaten much, if anything, all day."

The corners of Vincent's mouth quirk upwards. "Can't say I was expecting to be mother henned on your birthday."

"I'll 'mother hen' ya all I want. C'mon." Cid pats him on the arm, then turns on his heel to lead him inside. Vincent follows dutifully, and when he catches the eyes of their friends, they erupt into cheers.

"Vincent!" Yuffie exclaims. "You finally came!"

"It's about damn time!" Barret hollers.

"Sorry I'm late," Vincent says, looking slightly sheepish.

"'s fine, it's fine," Cid assures him, patting Vincent on the shoulder and waving to get Tifa's attention. "Hey, Tif, could use another drink. An' get Vincent somethin' too, please."

"Sure thing!" Tifa beams and practically dances behind the bar, happy to see all the gang together finally.

Cid turns back to Vincent, gesturing before leading him to a table. "Yer seriously gonna wanna eat somethin'. C'mon."

They rejoin Yuffie, Reeve, and Nanaki, Vincent seating himself in front of a club sandwich and Cid grabbing a handful of chips for himself, having already scarfed down a cheeseburger earlier.

"So," Cid says, turning to Vincent again and unable to keep a smile off his face. He's so oddly giddy now, in a way that's almost embarrassing to admit. "Long time, no see, huh?"

"Nobody ever sees Vincent," Yuffie butts in, pouting. "I don't think he likes us."

Cid shakes his head in disapproval. "Hey, he likes us enough to be here, don't he?"

"Moreso that he likes you." She jabs an accusing finger at him. "He wouldn't come to my birthday party, and I invited him."

"Hey, I didn't go neither."

"Yeah, well, you both suck!"

"Yuffie," Tifa chides with a smile, all motherlike as she brings their drinks and sets them on the table. "You shouldn't be rude to Cid on his birthday. Vincent, how've you been?"

"Fine," Vincent says mildly, immediately going for the drink. Cid stifles a chuckle, wondering if he's also had a long day. "It's nice to see you, Tifa."

"Aww," Tifa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling. "Well, I'm really glad you made it. Poor Cid here was just beside himself until you came."

Cid nearly chokes on his drink in a way that he can't really hide. He pounds on his chest with his fist as he coughs. Had his disappointment really been that obvious?

"Oh, he was miserable," Reeve teases from his end of the table, mirth in his eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen him look so disappointed, Vincent. Like a kid who opened up the wrong birthday present."

"S-shut up!" Cid sputters, feeling his face heat up. Tifa and Barret laugh heartily.

"If I had known that, I might have come sooner," Vincent says, catching Cid's eye and looking amused. Yuffie awws at the comment and Cid can feel his ears turn pink.

"Dunno what y'all're talkin' about," he feigns, still coughing.

"Oh, come on, we all know Vincent's your best friend." Yuffie croons.

"So what?" Cid challenges, crossing his arms. "Guy can't have a best friend?"

Truthfully, he wonders if he's Vincent's best friend. After all, they were both fairly close, seeming to gravitate towards each other's company more often than not. And that meant something considering Vincent's normally the type of guy to keep his distance, fuck off in some corner somewhere until you needed him for something. But Cid's gotten used to it, Vincent's mostly silent presence. There are times he'll be working on the airship's engines while Vincent watches quietly from his dark perch somewhere above head, both men left to their own devices while soaking up the comfort of each other's company.

And that's really all you need in a best friend, isn't it?

"Just admit you like Vincent more than us," Yuffie smirks knowingly.

"'Course I do," Cid says matter-of-factly. "Least he doesn't tease me."

"Why's your face all red?"

"'Cause I've been drinkin'!"

"Mhm."

No one buys it, and though they continue to tease him Cid can't really complain. Happiness bubbles in his chest, that previously missing puzzle piece slotting back into his heart now that Vincent's here and, to his delight, not off brooding in some corner. In fact Vincent doesn't leave his side the whole night, which doesn't help the teasing, but Cid couldn't care less. He feels… light. In a way that he hadn't felt in months, the weight of his responsibilities smothering and grounding him down to harsh reality. The fact that though he'd helped save the world, there was still much more work to be done, always.

And Vincent seemed lighter, too, somehow, in his own way. He smiles (with his eyes, at least) at Cid's shitty jokes, he banters back with his witty sarcasm (and he has a tongue for sarcasm like Cid has never seen). It's honestly more endearing than anything, and as the night parties on Cid finds himself falling deeper and deeper into those red, red eyes, spiraling into a pit of liquid warmth pooling in his stomach, swimming in his veins, pushing him to be braver than he'd normally be. He notices he's getting a bit more touchy, practically leaning into Vincent, bumping shoulders. Seeking contact wherever he can get it. Notices his gaze lingering on the beautiful man next to him, his mind wandering places he wouldn't dare go otherwise.

Damn, he could use another drink.

Cid winds up dragging Vincent to the bar with him, or Vincent simply follows—he isn't sure at this point, already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.

"Cid." A quiet voice floats from a barstool to his right almost as soon as they sit down. When Cid turns his head to catch who the voice belongs to, he breaks out into a grin.

"Heyyy, what's up, Spikey? Tifa 'n the kids treatin' ya alright?"

"Yeah, can't really complain." Cloud shrugs, his face impassive as always. He's always playing it cool, but Cid can easily tell he's the happiest he's ever seen the young man. He sits upright and relaxed, not stiff and slouched like he used to, as though an invisible weight's been lifted off his shoulders. "You?"

Cid gives an exaggerated sigh. Starts listing off. "Been a busy, busy man. Buildin' and fixin' up aircraft. Flyin' around the world for the WRO. Killin' fiends. Yellin' at my subordinates over stupid shit. Y'know, I think I've smoked more in these past three years than I ever have in my life."

To be honest, being head of WRO's air force had been running Cid into the ground, proud as he was to be there. There might not have been any major battles to fight as of late, but that didn't mean there was any less work that had to be done. Though he couldn't complain too much, it filled his days and his pockets, kept him active and healthy and on his toes.

"Here," Cloud says, producing something from his pocket and handing it to Cid.

"No way," Cid says in disbelief after holding the object up to inspect. It's a brass flip lighter with an intricately engraved number '7' on it, and a rare find, at that. "I ain't seen one of these in years. These're limited edition, too—only made about a hundred of 'em. Where'd ya even find this?"

Cloud tips his head and shrugs. "Figured it'd suit you more than me."

Cid flips the lighter open and closed, turns it around in his palm. "Do yourself a favor, kid, and never pick up the habit," he advises. He takes another swig of whiskey, feeling it pool in his belly and his veins. "And don't pick up heavy drinkin' neither."

"Wasn't planning on it."

On Cid's other side, Vincent sips his drink quietly, and Cid can't help but draw comparisons between the two men. Both taciturn and tenebrific, but caring of their friends, enough to have wanted to show up at this silly little get-together in Cid's honor. Cid chuckles to himself, shaking his head. Just how'd the hell he manage to make friends like these?

The gesture catches Vincent's eye. Cid turns to him, clearing his throat and stretching. "Speakin' of, almost forgot I was goin' out for a smoke when I was so rudely interrupted."

Vincent doesn't look the slightest bit apologetic. "Sorry."

Cid just gives him a fond smile, hopes it isn't as telling as it feels. "I'll forgive ya if ya keep me company."

Vincent regards him for a moment, red eyes unreadable, then promptly downs the rest of his drink and stands to follow.

Cid leads them to the back alley behind the bar, this time. It's chilly outside, the early night sky streaked with muted gray blues and cosmic purples as the moon slots into place. Cid has always enjoyed watching the sky, letting his mind wander the infinite cosmos, marvel at its grandness and his own insignificance. It's comforting in its own way, knowing that such a thing can continue to exist, no longer sullied by the existence of Meteor or some other extraterrestrial threat.

Cid takes the cigarette out of his jacket pocket, setting it alight with his new lighter. He takes a drag and exhales, watching the smoke twist off his lips and into the air. Though he keeps his eyes on the sky, he notes that Vincent stands somewhere close-by to his left. There's only a few feet between them.

"I'm actually really glad ya came," Cid admits, subsequently blaming the alcohol for his open honesty. "Was wonderin' when I'd see ya again."

Vincent's eyes remain on the sky. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," Cid sighs, placing his hands on his hips. "Look, I know we're both busy men but we oughta set some time apart and grab some drinks together on occasion again. Or somethin', y'know? I mean, only if ya want to."

Vincent finally turns to look at him, catching Cid's eye. "I wouldn't mind that at all. And I might not be as busy as you might think."

"Yeah?" Cid raises an eyebrow. "Well, I am, unfortunately. But I'd be sure to make some time for you."

He feels his cheeks heat up a little at the admission. Continues on. "And y'know yer always welcome aboard my ship, any time."

Vincent then regards him with a strange sort of intensity, red eyes searching. It causes Cid to shift on his feet. "That's awfully kind of you, Chief," Vincent says quietly, eyes not leaving him. "I'll keep that in mind."

Cid returns his gaze, and for a moment they kind of just… stare at each other in companionable silence. Not that Cid minds, but he can feel himself getting a little restless. A little self-conscious.

"And I uh," Cid starts, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing up at the stars again. "Appreciate you comin' out for my birthday. Ya didn't have to."

Vincent's eyes stay on him. "Told you I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Toldja I ain't that special."

"There are people who would disagree with you."

Cid chews on his cigarette, eyes sliding back over to look at his companion somewhat suspiciously. "You one of 'em?"

"Perhaps."

"Ya callin' me special, Vince?"

"You're a one of a kind, Chief."

Cid smirks, ducking his head and feeling his ears go pink again. "Damn flatterer."

He wonders if Vincent knows just what he does to him. Wonders if he says such things deliberately, trying to get a reaction out of him. Though he knows that couldn't be the case. Ultimately chalks it up to Vincent's cool and honest nature.

Damn him.

"Y'know, I wasn't expectin' any of this," Cid says, pinching the cigarette between his fingers and removing it from his mouth for a moment to exhale. "When Tifa asked me to come to the bar on important business, I first thought there might be trouble."

"Did you forget the date?"

Cid shrugs. "'s just a day like any other. Though if Shera were here she might've dragged me into doin' somethin' special like she always does."

Vincent hums thoughtfully. "Shera's… a nice woman."

Cid shoots him a look. "What? You tellin' me to marry her?"

"I didn't say that," Vincent defends, looking away. "Just making an observation."

"You implied it."

"Apologies."

"Stop apologizin'."

Cid places the cigarette back into his mouth, takes another long drag, thoughtful.

"She's not what I want right now," he says simply. "Besides…"

He trails off, lets his thoughts marinate. It wasn't that he didn't like Shera. As a matter of fact, he liked her just fine. She's a nice woman indeed—too nice, in a way that Cid never came to really appreciate until it was too late. He still beats himself up over it from time to time, wondering just how the hell anybody could stand the kind of treatment he gave her over the course of many years. He doubts he'll ever be able to fully forgive himself for it, not that he deserves forgiveness. From himself or from anyone.

"Besides?" Vincent prods gently, watching him.

Cid sighs, running a gloved hand through his hair. "She's too good for me."

Disapproval flashes in Vincent's eyes as he frowns. "You shouldn't speak so lowly of yourself, Cid."

"Yer broody ass is one to talk." Cid can't help but smirk. "'s not that, it's just…"

He sighs again, mentally preparing to spill his guts. "I've been a real pain in the ass and I know it. But even then, she's stuck by me over the years. Used to have to drag my ass outta the bar on my birthdays and bring me home to celebrate. She always did bake up a sorry cake but at least it meant somethin'. And I never could repay her that kindness, but she never brought it up or complained. Not once. Not ever."

Cid pauses for a brief moment, continuing on when Vincent remains silent. "'Course she didn't have to, but she called me today, sayin' she had some cake waitin' on the table, but I told her I couldn't make it since y'all folks decided to throw me a damn party. Even you came."

Cid kicks the dirt, feeling guilty. To think that there were people who still wanted to honor him, in spite of the asshole he's been for god knows how long. He might be a mostly changed man now, after all that's happened, but it doesn't erase the head and heartache he might have caused in the past. And though it pains him now, he doesn't want pity. Never has, and Vincent doesn't give him any, just watches him with arms crossed, wordless and attentive.

Cid doesn't deserve him either.

But as he looks up at the forgiving moon, Vincent patient and steadfast by his side, he realizes that it's ultimately useless to beat himself up tonight. Reminds himself of the fact that he has a birthday party at all. Reminds himself to feel gratitude rather than to stew in self-loathing, to try and see what the others might see in him now.

"Don't know what I did to deserve any of it, but… I dunno…" he says carefully. "Maybe it's time to admit this grumpy bastard ain't all that bad."

He casually throws an arm around Vincent's shoulder as he says it, leaning on him with his weight. If Vincent has ever minded the physical contact he's never shown or voiced it, which Cid takes as a promising sign.

"I have never thought so little of you, Cid." Vincent's voice is entirely sincere, unhesitant, like he's got nothing to hide. It touches Cid in a way he didn't know was possible. Causes his heart rate to pick up slightly.

"No?" Cid raises an eyebrow, his lips curling up in a smile. "Well it's real hard to tell what you're thinkin' sometimes. How you're feelin'. You're always so damn quiet and mysterious all the time."

"Hm. I suppose that's just the way I am." Vincent says coolly. "It seems my capacity for expression has dwindled under the decades I had been asleep."

"You tellin' me ya were a different man before the coffin?"

"No man who wakes up dead is ever the same as he was alive."

"S'pose that's fair…" Cid concedes, eyes roaming over his companion. "Ya seem different now too, though."

Vincent turns to look at him again. "How so?"

"I dunno, just…" Cid shrugs, rubbing the back of his head. "Ya seem less… Like you've made your peace with something. Like you've settled."

Vincent regards him for a moment before speaking again. "I suppose one could say that."

"Are ya happy?"

"Overjoyed," Vincent says, in the dryest possible manner, and Cid can't help but laugh in response, his hand inadvertently slipping from Vincent's shoulder to glide down his spine, stopping to rest on the small of his back. Vincent watches him, keenly aware of the movement, his lips twisted in a slight smile. It's lovely on him, Cid thinks, rare and beautiful as a blood moon. He clears his throat.

"You should smile more," Cid says, before he can stop himself. "Looks nice on ya."

Vincent tips his head, obscuring his mouth behind the collar of his cloak, to Cid's disappointment. "It seems you're the flatterer."

"Ain't flattery if it's the truth."

His hand is still on Vincent's back as they look each other in the eyes, amusement and fondness dancing in Vincent's crimson gaze. He's gorgeous, Cid realizes for perhaps the seventh time that night, the smile slipping from his face as he finds himself staring at the gunman, completely entranced. He lets his cigarette, already down to the filter, fall from his lips. Vincent's eyes dart down to his mouth and linger there.

"Cid?"

They're both standing unbelievably close. Cid almost wants to tell him how glad he is that Vincent came, but he's said that already. His gaze falls to Vincent's lips and he wonders if they're as soft as they look. He shifts on his feet, wrestles with himself in his mind for a moment before gathering his liquid courage, the alcohol in his veins pushing him forward and—

He kisses Vincent. It's sloppy and rushed, and probably not at all romantic, but it feels good. It feels right. Especially when Vincent's slowly kissing him back, hands going to Cid's waist and holding him there. Vincent tastes like touching stars. Like rum and leather. Like unspoken promises and long-hidden desires.

It takes a second before Cid realizes what he's done, and he pulls away just as suddenly as he pushed in.

"Fuck," he slurs. "'m sorry, Vincent, I—"

He stumbles, backing away, but Vincent's gloved hand shoots out to grab him gently by the forearm, anchoring him in place. "Cid…"

"Sorry, I…" Cid starts, having to catch his breath. "I've been wantin' to do that for a long time."

"What kept you?" Vincent's deep voice is soft, genuine, his eyes full of such concern.

"Didn't think ya'd ever felt the same way," Cid says, eyes roaming across Vincent's face. He had never thought it possible for another man to be so beautiful, and yet…

Vincent tilts his head. "And now?"

"Now I'm tipsy, and yer gorgeous."

Something warm then flickers in Vincent's eyes, the tops of his cheekbones dusted light red, whether from the chill or the compliment, Cid isn't sure. Vincent hums, leaning in to meet Cid's lips again. He kisses Cid tentatively, gently, gloved fingers disappearing into the back of Cid's head and holding him in place. Cid responds in kind, one hand going to cradle Vincent's face and the other tangling in his wild black hair. Before he knows it, Vincent's prodding him open with his tongue, and Cid allows him the contact as Vincent explores his mouth, kissing him fully, deeply, like a long-time lover. Like he's been wanting this for just as long, if not more. The whole time Cid can feel his head spinning, his heart singing. It's everything he's desired and more. Everything he never knew he could have or deserve.

They trade kisses for a good while before they pull apart. Cid licks his lips, savoring the taste of Vincent.

"Best fuckin' birthday gift ever," he says cornily, with a winning smile.

Vincent smirks with his eyes, peering at Cid through heavy eyelashes, his deep voice a bit breathy. One arm is still around Cid's waist. "You're rather easy to please."

"Nah, I've never been kissed better." It's nothing less than the truth, and Cid wonders to himself as he runs a hand down Vincent's spine just how he became so fortunate in life. They continue to hold each other, simply staring into each other's eyes and enjoying each other's presence in a new way. Moonlight bounces off of Vincent's soft, jet black hair, shimmers in his enchanting red-gold eyes, and Cid makes a silent wish that he could have this forever.

Suddenly, the door behind them swings open, startling the two men apart, and none other than Yuffie pokes her head out. "Hey, you lovebirds done flirtin' out here? It's time for some cake."

"So cut the damn cake already," Cid dismisses with a wave of his hand, silently cursing the teen for interrupting his much-cherished time with his new lover. "An' mind yer own business!"

Yuffie rolls her eyes, ignoring the latter comment. "We have to sing happy birthday to you first, old man. Duh."

Cid twists around to glare at her. "I'm only thirty-six!"

"Yeah, old."

"You little shit!"

Cid starts after her, but like the ninja she is, she swiftly whirls back inside out of reach and out of view. Cid lets her get away, stopping to glance back at Vincent and gesturing for him to come inside. Vincent's eyes dance in amusement again before he starts to follow, but not before stealing another kiss from Cid.

"Happy birthday, Cid."