A Clean and Cool Cotton

He had a plan. It was a simple plan, simple to execute and, if all went right, would end up with little to no blood shed...

He'd hate to stain the shirt.

Vincent silently cursed himself, for the first time in a long time, for not having what everyone considered 'normal clothing'. Normal of course meant something that wasn't leather. He only had one outfit, so that idea was out. He'd tried going through, at a last resort, Cid's duffel bag only to realize everything the man owned was too big for him, making it so that it would fall off of him the moment he moved. The only thing he hoped he could use was a classic black tank top and what looked like an old, beat up baseball hat. He didn't question why Cid carried the hat around, but Cid did a lot of things that made no sense. At least, not to the gunman. Still, he had to work with what he had, and beggars couldn't be choosers.

He stashed the cloak, deep under his bed where he was sure NO ONE would find it. The mtal gaurds from his boots came off easily, and it and the leather shirt he wore came off too. Despite the fact his ourfit LOOKED solid, it wasn't, thank God. Those too, went under the bed.

Vincent sighed as he pulled the oversized tank top on, and shoved all of his hair under the baseball cap. A pair of sunglasses he ALSO found in the duffel bag (why didn't Highwind wear them?) were placed over his eyes, and he turned to look at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall. There was stil something off about the way he looked....alright, he admitted, there was EVERYTHING off about the way he looked, but something in familiar stuck out more than the rest.

His gauntlet. Fuck.

Vincent sighed as he looked down at the thing. It was, as nobody else but himself knew, removable. No one else knew because they never saw it off of his arm, and even the pilot who he was forced to room with always fell asleep after and woke up after Vincent did. Still...he turned the ring at the top around, releasing the springs that kept it in place. The familiar weight from the metal was gone as it slid off of his arm, the cold air in the room making goosebumps stand up on it.

Under the bed it went, and he turned once again to look at himself in the mirror. He blinked for a moment, and sighed again. "I look like a stalker..."

That wasn't, he thought as he slipped out of the hotel room, too far from the truth...
* * * *

The sun had gone down slightly as he walked through the town, but that didn't make the heat much more bearable. Sunlight bounced off of everything and Cid wished he's grabbed his sunglasses from his bag too. Oh well. In another minute he'd be waist high in water.

Cid walked down towards the shore and started down the stairs as he took a look around the beach. It was, as always, crowded, the occassional surfer taking advantage of the waves coming in and the sunbathers gathering up the sun. Bikinied woman stood around or layed around the shoreline, and Cid couldn't help but discretly eye everyone as he walked. Yup, good of Spikey to stay here for a while.

He stopped at a spot not too crowded and sat, pulled off his sandles and tossed them onto an empty beach chair. The swim trunks he'd bought at one of the stores in town were already on him, the pants he was carrying joining the sandles on the chair. He pulled off the white shirt last, and looked at it before it joined it's clothing pals. There wasn't anything special about it...just a plain white "dress" shirt he guessed he could call it. Wasn't anything fancy, wasn't a name brand item for sure and didn't stand out from any other white shirt in the world. So, Cid wondered, what the hell could have made Vincent want to bury his face in it? He gave it a sniff- yep, freshener. Nothing special. Oh well, Cid decided as he tossed it on the chair- just another weird quirk you'd have to accept about Vincent Valentine.

He was about to get in until he heard someone calling his name, and he looked up as Tifa, Yuffie and Barrett ambled his way. Barett was pretty much dressed the way he was, Yuffie was wearing what looked like a kid's one peice and Tifa...Cid smiled to himself. God bless whoever endowed that girl the right way. "I was wondering if I was gonna be the only one out here."

"You think I'm gonna stay inside all day, you got another thing comin, Cid." Barett snorted and crossed his arms as he stood beside the shorter man. "Lemme guess- Vampy's holin' himself up inside his room, ain't he?"

"Yup, you know he wouldn't be caught dead outside..comon old man, let's swim." Cid ignored Barett's sputtering protest at being called 'old', and stepped into the water. The sun felt great on his skin, the tide was up and Tifa was running around the beach, trheatening with every step to fall out. Too bad Vincent was missing out, he thought, while he was doing...whatever.
* * * *

Target was in sight, but the threat had been heightened. Vincent narrowed his eyes, growling to himself as he watched Barett, Yuffie and Tifa (she might as well be wearing NOTHING) joined Cid, making the chance to sneak up and grab the shirt even more difficult than if Cid were alone. GETTING to the shore line was bad enough, what with all the stares he'd gotten and questions of 'are you that guy in that band?'...whatever the hell that meant. Now he just had to contend with GETTING the shirt, which lay all of ten feet away. He'd considered sneaking into get it, but he'd be spotted easily. The only choice he was left with was a run-by-snatch, which would probably attract just as much, if not MORE, attention that sneaking.

His eyes narrowed more behind the sunglasses, and he squeezed the dock post he was standing beside. It was just a shirt...nothing special...even if it did smell REALLY good. REALLy, REALLY, REDICULOUSLY good...so good that yes, he had to have it. He crouched down a bit, making sure his long legs were bunched up enough to give him a good head-start. He was about to launch himself out, but had to stop himself half way out, almost making him fall to his ass on the slippery sand.

Cid (DAMMIT!) had gotten out of the water, waving his hand to Barett as he pointed a thumb back with the other behind him. He was still wet from the WAY too short of a swim, and Vincent's frown deepened when Cid picked up the target and slipped it back on. He was shouting something to the others, and Vincent caught the tail end of it as Cid turned to leave, pants in hand. A small panic button inside of him was pushed as he caught the words 'invite', 'hotel room', and 'Vincent'.

Vincent turned and, with a man in slight panic, hauled ass towards the hotel to change, stuff Cid's clothes back into his duffel bag, and compose himself all before Cid completed the five minute stroll it took him to get back to the room.

FUCK.
* * * *

"Hey, I'm going to go the hotel room and invite Vincent."

"Why? He ain't gonna come out." Barett lifted an eyebrow as he watched Cid walk back up to the shore and collect his clothing.

"Aren't ANY of yall curious to know what the man does when no one's lookin'?" Cid frowned a bit as no one answered, and with the roll of his eyes shrugged his white shirt back on. "Be right back." Cid's frown deepend as he climb the stairs leading from the shore into town. "An' mor'n likely alone."

The walk to the hotel room wasn't far, maybe a minute or two if he hurried, and when Cid Highwind was annoyed (like he was now), he hurried. He walked down the hallway to his room, and without even knocking he opened up the door and stepped inside.

He EXPECTED Vincent to be sitting where he'd left him, calm and composed and sulking as always. He did NOT expect a half naked, cloakless, clawless, and flushed Vincent to turn around from looking under the bed and stare at him from wide eyes.

"WHOA."
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AN- strange, boring chapter, i know. a strange, boring author too. stay tuned.