What Friends are For

Chapter 3 of the 'What Friends are For'

Remember: Reviews make authors happy!

----------

'What Friends are For' Chapter 3: Interruptions
The two men have a talk, and one thing leads to another. [WAFF, Yaoi]

----------

"What the hell did you mean by 'they already know,' Vince?" I demanded, once we were safely in my room with the door shut. I reclaimed my spot on the bed, and Vince - as usual - sat in the chair.

He shrugged, and folded his arms over his chest. "They were hovering above us for several minutes before I alerted you to their presence," he replied. I could swear he was smiling, though that damn cape of his hid everything but his eyes.

"And ya didn't tell me?" I had to sigh, though I wanted to scream. Instead, I pulled out a cigarette; the filter was damp, and tasted like Vince's lips. Great. "What if I lose my crew because they don't like what happens between us?"

"Cid," he said with his own sigh, "They already knew. They had suspected for some time, and those that would be bothered have already left."

That made me pause. I went through the list in my head as I glared at the Vincent-flavored smoke. "But the only one that's left was Tseth," I said slowly, "an' that was 'cause he had a kid. I know his brother has a husband, an' they get along fine."

Vince nodded, and leveled his gaze on me. It wasn't quite The Glare, at least. "Exactly," he replied, as if that explained everything.

And I realized it did. I sat back and considered what that meant; it almost felt like having my family's blessing, for some reason, odd as that sounds. 'None of them care...' But then I wondered, "Why'd you say they already suspected?"

The question made Vince chuckle. "I went to ask a favor from your junior pilot that involved where the Highwind was when we left. I told him he would see a signal, after which he was to pick us up five hours later on the plain near Rocket Town."

He paused long enough to make me nervous, and I shifted restlessly. It made me realize I was still holding the cigarette, so I tucked it behind my ear. Might as well take care of it later. "What'd he say?"

Vince waited a moment before answering. "He looked at me and asked, 'Are you gonna sweep the Cap'n off his feet?' What could I do but say yes?"

I groaned at that, and rubbed my forehead. "Great, not only did I get 'swept off' by my best friend, but my whole damn crew knew it was gonna happen."

"They may have been a bit impatient for it, actually. His exact response was, 'Well, it's about damn time.' " He paused, and the smile grew enough for it to me to see it around his eyes. "I am sure you are aware that I agree with their statement. Though I do not think they expected the signal would be my throwing you from the airship, and then jumping after you."

I closed my eyes and shivered. I don't care what anyone thinks, to me flying is as good as - sometimes even better - than sex. Not as messy, either. 'If flying is like sex, then wouldn't that make Vince the ultimate lover?'

That brought all sorts of images to my mind that I really didn't need right then, and I wondered if it was possible to beat an imagination with a blunt weapon. I did my best to shove them away before trying to speak again, though I didn't look at Vince.

"I would too, but..." I paused, trying to figure out what I wanted to say. "I guess it bothers me that everyone knew what was goin' on, and I didn't."

"Mm," Vince replied. "To borrow your own wedding analogy, you could consider it the equivalent of telling friends you are about to propose, but not letting the intended know until it happens."

He just had to remind me of that, didn't he? And there went my imagination again. Damn. I snorted, and shook my head. "So, what, is flyin' some sort'a traditional Valentine engagement thing?" I grinned, shaking my head. "If it is, yer werarin' the dress."

Vince watched me a moment, silently, but with one eyebrow arched. He stood, and unbuckled the cape, then held it up before him. His right arm pinned it to his chest, and the other held the edge to the side, as he glanced down at himself. "It would have to be red or black. Nothing else would suit."

That made me laugh. 'Only Vince.' I stood and walked over to him, glancing at where the red fabric draped over his front. "Gotta be red," I replied with a grin. "I gotta wear a tux, and it wouldn't do if we're both in black, ya know? Might get a bunch'a old timers comin' in, thinkin' we're havin' a funeral."

That made him groan and shudder. "Please, do not say that around Yuffie. It is bad enough she teases you for your age. If she ever ignored my appearance and realized when I was born, I would never hear the end of it."

The comment surprised me, and I couldn't help but stare. Vince smiling was different. Vince joking was different. Vince making jokes about his age was unheard of - I don't think he's ever mentioned it, not since the time he told me some of what was done to him. I think that's what made me finally realize how much he's changed since we pulled him out of that coffin. It hit me then - he was alone with me, in my room. He'd taken his cape off on his own to act a little silly. And above the fabric he held in his arms, that same secretive half-smile quirked his lips. His crimson eyes watching me with this almost playful expression, as if daring me to...

To what?

I didn't know, but I knew what I wanted to do, though I didn't think about it. My hands moved on their own, one guiding his arm away to let the cloak drop, while the other slipped around his waist, pulling him close to me. It felt good having him there - it felt right. I don't often notice how tall he is, there's only a three-inch difference between us. But when he slipped his arms around me, I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes - and then his lips.

I didn't think it was possible for a kiss to be better than that first one, but he proved me wrong. We hardly moved, barely breathed, just held each other as tight as we could. I remembered how I had thought he could be addictive, and damn if I wasn't right. I did my best to taste every corner of his mouth, even as he did the same to me. There was no hesitation, no nervousness, just teasing and promises.

Then he fell back, pulling me with him, and I realized we had somehow made it to my bed. Both of us landed with a grunt, since we hadn't let go of each other, and I was on top of him, between his legs, and I could feel that he wanted this as much as I did. I couldn't help grinding against him, and I couldn't tell which of us was moaning, and who was growling; I just know I was getting dizzy from lack of air, but there was no way I wanted to let go of his lips. His hands were clutching at my back, the clawtips and leather making me shiver when they moved over my skin. My own hands worked without thought, trying to undo Vince's top, but it wasn't easy. 'Why does one man need so many damn buckles and buttons and clasps?'

When I was about to sit up to actually see what I was doing, I heard the last thing I wanted to hear right at that moment: Junior's voice.

"Uh, Cap'n? Sorry to interrupt, but Miss Lockheart called. She needs an emergency delivery to that Icicle place up north. Says we're the only ones that can get there. Something about a blizzard." The intercom clicked off, leaving Vince and me to lay there panting, staring at each other.

I think I used up a year's worth of swearing right then, and several threats of violence that I would have performed upon my crew if Vince hadn't kissed me again. At first I wanted to pull away - I'd been on a roll - but his lips were very, very persuasive. It wasn't as intense as it was moments before, but it was enough to calm me down. They could bottle Essence of Vince and sell it as a drug, I think.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, and moved to the intercom with a sigh. "Call Tifa back and let her know we'll be there soon, and that she owes us one. I'll be up in a minute."

"Aye, Cap'n," was the only reply. I could already hear Highwind's engines quickening as my assistant set course for Edge.

I moved back to the bed and slumped onto the mattress next to Vince, sighing heavily. When I looked at him, I could see my reaction echoed in his eyes; he was as frustrated as I was by the interruption. But seeing him lay there - cheeks flushed in arousal, lips swollen by the kiss, chest moving deeply as he still worked to even out his breathing - I wanted him more right then than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I was half a second away from another bout of profanity when he cut me off.

"You might want to change your shirt," he said in a low voice. "I was a little less... gentle than I thought."

'What the hell?' I pulled my shirt off, and turned it around. The back of it had been practically ripped to shreds by his claws, and I realized could feel the slight sting of welts the metal tip had left on my skin. "Well, damn. This was my favorite shirt."

He just laughed as I stood. It took a minute to find my goggles and jacket, and I tossed Vince that damn cloak he liked so much. He slipped it over his shoulder and redid the buckles, then adjusted the ones I had undone on his top. I didn't like to see him hide away again, but knowing I was the one who got to see him without it eased the disappointment.

"Cid," he spoke softly. He had turned away and closed his eyes; for a moment I wondered if something was wrong. "I am afraid if you do not put on another shirt, we most certainly will not be meeting Tifa 'soon' - if today at all."

Aw hell. Hello again, imagination. Just the thought that this man wanted me that much was enough to make me shudder. It took a bit of effort to not moan outright. "I should just leave it off," I growled, digging through a drawer to drag out a new top. "It's yer fault it's torn anyway." I slipped on the shirt, and then my jacket and goggles, before moving to the door. "Now c'mon, lazy, let's go see what 'Miss Lockheart' has for us."

I heard him laugh softly as he rose to follow me, and together we headed up to the bridge.

----------

It wasn't hard to see why Tifa said they were the only ones who could deliver the crates of food, fuel, and warm clothing to the little tourist town. It had been hit by multiple snowstorms in a row, leaving snow piled so deep, nothing animal or machine could get through. So, they had to go over, and be delivered from above.

Bundled as warmly as they could be to ward off the chill and tethered to safety rails by long ropes to hold them against the gusting winds, the airship's crew did their best to lower the heavy crates to people below. It was difficult work; even Vincent lent a hand to be sure every one of the boxes had been lowered safely. His strength avoided more than one disaster when hands - chilled to the bone despite multiple layers of gloves - gave out, and he was there to grip the line and make sure the crate made it the rest of the way without incident. Cid remained on the bridge; though his assistant was decently skilled at handling the Highwind, only the captain himself could keep her steady in this storm.

"Is that all of it?" the gunman heard one of the crew members shout; though only a few feet away, it was difficult to hear in the vicious wind that raged just outside the cargo doors.

Vincent peered around the cargo bay before nodding to the man. "It looks like it," he shouted in response. Gripping tight with his flesh hand, he lifted the gauntlet high, signaling to the man stationed by the control to close the door.

Once the portal was shut, they all breathed a sigh of relief into the almost deafening silence. They could still hear the wind whistling past joints in the door, but it was nothing near as bad as the gale outside. The crewman tossed the keys to the gunslinger now that the override was no longer needed, and he heard another using the intercom to let Cid know they were done with the unloading.

The gunslinger stretched muscles worn sore by the chill and the heavy work; it was a much different ache from the fighting he and the others used to do. Already he could feel the change in the Highwind's engines as Cid led her away from the storm. Some of the crewmen were working to sweep up the snow, ice, and debris blown through the cargo bay while the doors were open; after landing, it would all be pushed outside. The rest of them were heading out of the bay, to change into cooler gear; Vincent decided that was a very good idea.

He'd made it barely half way up the stairs before a painful twinge shot through his left arm; it'd been so long since he felt anything on that side, it took him a moment to realize what had happened.

He had made an unpleasant mistake.

His left hand had gone uncovered and unprotected for more than two hours in freezing temperatures. His hand was coated in nothing but metal, which amplified the cold and kept it pressed to his skin. He'd been in cold before, when they were traveling through the glacier area and up the cliffs to the crater, but he hadn't needed his arm then; it had been kept wrapped up. This time, he hadn't.

He hissed sharply as another shock rippled through his arm, and he gripped the shoulder of the closest crew member with his good hand. "Go to the captain," he said through clenched teeth. "Tell him to meet me in his quarters as soon as humanly possible. It's an emergency."

The other man was tempted to tease their captain's companion; after all, it was no secret what the two meant to each other. But then he caught the look in the blood-colored eyes, the wince and tightening of the metal-clad hand. Something was wrong. The man simply nodded and saluted, then ran as quickly as he could toward the bridge, not even bothering to stop and shed the stifling clothing.

----------

I hated having to wait until I had steered us far enough away from the worst of the storm so Junior could take over. I wanted to leave right away, as soon as Markos burst into the bridge and told me something was wrong with Vince, but I knew I couldn't.

As soon as we were safe, I handed over the controls and sprinted for my cabin. I think I was in a panic by the time I got there, and threw open the door. "Vince? Markos said you were hurt! Are ya--"

I broke off when I saw him sitting in the chair. He'd left his cloak in his own room since it would have been in the way during the unloading, and his usual over-buckled leather outfit was crusted with snow and ice. He'd taken off the metal gauntlet and was cradling his left arm, and I could see his shuddering and the look of pain on his face.

"What happened?" I asked, moving over to pull him from the chair. I began working to undo all the buckles and straps to get the clothes off him; it was easier, now that I could see what I was doing, and was trying my best to stay calm.

"Cold," he replied hoarsely. "I did not think, until we were done, what the cold was doing to my arm. I am not used to having it there, and the metal--" He stopped, hissing sharply as his entire left arm spasmed. "The whole thing hurts."

"But it didn't do that when we were on the glacier, did it?" I asked, pulling off his boots and helping him step out of the pants I'd managed to loosen enough to push down. "I mean, it was pretty damn cold there.

"Kept it wrapped," he said simply as I began work on his top. "Even if I did not have my arm, the cold could have leeched through the metal and into the rest of my body." He stopped to let another painful shudder pass, then continued. "I did not need my left hand then; my gun arm was enough. But I could not do that today - I needed both to help unload."

I'd finally gotten enough of the straps undone to leave his top hanging loose, but there was a problem. "Vince... I've gotta get this thing off yer arm. I'll hafta either pull it off, or--"

"Cut it off," he growled. I knew he wouldn't be able to handle the leather scraping over his skin, and it definitely wouldn't be a good idea to put the gauntlet back on.

I fished out my knife and flicked it open, then worked as quickly and carefully as I could to split the tough material. Afterward, I guided him over to the bed and helped him ease under the blankets while he kept his left arm lifted. My own clothes were quickly shed, before I slipped in lay facing him and pressed close to share my body heat with his chilled form.

I moved a hand to gently grip his upper arm, wincing at the way he shuddered at the contact. "It'll hurt, Vince," I whispered, "but if we put it between us, it'll get warm faster." I knew that's what he needed right now. He'd always been a fast healer, thanks to all those damn experiments, so I knew he wouldn't have to worry about frostbite. He hesitated, then nodded. I lifted the blankets high, and helped guide his arm between our bodies, but I paused when I felt resistance against my pull.

"Wait," Vince whispered, and I did. After a moment he turned on his side to face me, and I could feel him tense up, bracing himself. It was his turn to move his arm, laying it between our chests with a wince. We lay still then; I could feel the bone-deep chill in his arm against my skin, though already his shivering had lessened, and his face seemed to relax a bit.

I moved as carefully as I could to kiss his forehead. "Well, at least I finally got you into bed. Though I suppose the honeymoon will have to wait till later."

The shaking I felt then wasn't from pain, but from a silent laugh. "Insufferable man," I heard him murmur quietly, and I could hear the affection in his voice. I knew then that, despite the occasional shivering and tensing he was going to be just fine.