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Restful Death	By : ElfNight Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 603 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Restful Death
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 5
- 6
"*Why* do you want a screwdriver?" Cid asked cautiously, trying very hard not to just pounce on the tall man in front of
him.
He and Cloud had pulled up to the shack barely two minutes ago; when Vincent hadn't answered their calls, they'd gone
inside.
To find a rather disoriented, walking-wet-dream Vincent Valentine. Half undressed, with his hair loose from the headbands
and falling in his eyes...
...demanding to know if they had a - screwdriver.
If Vincent's eyes hadn't been so frantic, Cid would have offered him one, only without the word 'driver', just to see what
he'd do.
"I need one to get these bolts off," Vincent replied, some of his normal calmness returning to his voice. He gestured toward
the golden claw that nearly replaced his left arm.
Cid leaned closer, staring at it. There *were* bolts... actually, they were small, covered screws - set into the bronze surface.
Weird, he'd always thought that thing was permanently attached. "Okay, Val, but why do you want to take it off?"
"Don't call me that. I want to see what's under it. I never realized... that it *could* come off."
Cid wasn't entirely certain that was the best idea - but Cloud stared into Vincent's red eyes for a long moment, nodded, and
went out to his motorcycle. He was back in less than half a minute, a toolbox in his hand. Vincent grabbed for it, but both
Cid and Cloud blocked him. They opened the box and went over the tools inside, their eyes quick and professional.
"This one," they said together, reaching for the perfect bit of metal, then Cid pushed Vincent down on the bed, pulled the
rickety table close, and gently stretched Vincent's metallic arm out on it.
"What are you doing?" Vincent demanded. His eyes had lost some of the desperation they'd had when Cid and Cloud
arrived; the ruby depths were filled with puzzlement, now.
"We're going to do this for you," Cloud said quietly, moving oh-so-carefully to ease the bronze cover off the first screw.
"Yeah - ain't like you can do it, yourself," Cid added, watching the younger man like a hawk. "Takes two hands."
"Oh," was Vincent's deep, meaningful reply.
Cid snickered a little, and shifted them both until Vincent was actually sitting between his legs. He didn't press close - yet -
so he knew the other man hadn't noticed.
Cloud noticed. He flicked a glance at their position and started fighting a smile - then his eyes flickered over Vincent again
and his hands began a very faint, fine trembling.
Hm? Cid leaned over Vincent's shoulder to see what was causing that, and very nearly pitched forward onto his face.
Stretching Vincent's arm out like that had caused his shirt to slip off of one shoulder, revealing a broad expanse of sleek,
ivory skin, stretched tight over lean firm muscles, a delicately etched collarbone, and a pale, pretty nipple.
Yum.
He felt his own hands start shaking, and realized it was because he was fighting the desire to touch.
It was a fight he didn't want to win - but first, they needed to take care of Vincent. And that meant getting that arm off, so
he could see whatever it was he wanted to see.
Cid hoped it wasn't going to be something bad, that would send their beautiful prey off into another spiral of black
depression.
He had too many plans for that to happen.
And he cared too much about Vincent to *let* that happen.
So whatever was under that shiny bronze claw, they'd just have to deal with it fast.

*

Why in the world was the boy being so careful?
Vincent just wanted him to rip the screws out and yank the monstrosity off his arm, not move like he was dealing with fine
bone china.
Come to think of it, *both* of the blonds were acting strange. He hadn't even noticed that Cid was sitting behind him, that
the pilot's strong thighs were keeping him blocked in or that a thick, warm arm had wrapped itself around his waist.
He forgot to wonder about their odder actions when Cloud eased out the last small screw and laid it aside. He and Cid both
took a gentle hold on the claw, and began to ease it down. Vincent just watched, ruby eyes wide, as it inched down his arm.
All right, there were tiny metal casings set into his skin, places for the screws to tighten and hold the glove on. Probably
permanent, but he could deal with those.
It was the skin that was being revealed that fascinated him. It was even paler than the rest of him, so ghostly white it was
almost translucent - but it was *there*. The claw was moving more easily as they slid it down, revealing more and more of
an arm that he had thought lost forever. There was his wrist, the veins so blue they looked like they'd been drawn on with a
child's marker, the frail, fragile-looking bones sharply defined.
Then his hand - with delicate traces of circuitry laying just under his skin, so shallow that it was easily visible. His fingers
were twitching, jumping and flexing all on their own, and he couldn't control them. No matter how hard he concentrated, he
couldn't control them.
Cid reached out and touched a sparking conduit on the back of his hand and he jumped. His nerve endings lit on fire from
the single touch. "Don't!"
"Sensitive?"
Vincent nodded, unable to speak further. Cid had lifted his fingers, but that touch still seemed to be burning through his
hand.
"Move your hand," Cloud urged, leaning over it with his blue eyes alight with curiosity.
Vincent tried to obey - tried to just curl his fingers a little - but they instantly tightened into a fist, his knuckles turning
white.
"Not so hard," Cid said sharply, moving to rub Vincent's elbow, just above where the claw had been attached.
"I didn't mean to," Vincent said faintly, even as his fingers relaxed. "I barely moved them - or I thought I barely moved
them..."
"It's the circuits, I think," Cloud said after a moment's thought. "I think they're enhancing all your movements, so that you're
strong enough to move the claw. I think - I think that you would have barely moved the claws, instead of making a fist.
Does it hurt?"
"Not exactly," Vincent replied, still staring at his hand. "It's just - I can feel everything. It's too much." He could, too - every
bump and sliver of the wooden table under his palm, every bit of breathe when Cloud was talking. He could almost swear
he felt the weight of their eyes looking at his flesh. It was making his heart race, and it was *almost* painful.
"Let's put it back on, then," Cid said, tightening the arm around Vincent's waist and setting his chin on the man's shoulder.
"You can take it off a little longer every day, until you get used to sensation again."
"...all right," Vincent agreed slowly. He really didn't want to put that thing back on - his mind was still trying to wrap itself
around the knowledge that he still had his hand - but he knew he couldn't take much more of the intense sensations in those
newly rediscovered fingers. His brain might explode.
Or his hand might burst into flame.
Cloud gently replaced the claw, and Cid held it in place while the younger man put the screws back in and replaced the
covers.
Then shoved the table out of the way, and sat down beside Cid.
Very, very close to Cid, and to him.
Vincent stared.
Cid chuckled. "We have some other things to talk about now, Val."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"I told ya, I like it." Something brushed gently against his neck - was that Cid's *lips*?! He jerked around to stare and found
it was, indeed, Cid's lips.
The same lips that crushed against his, kissing him thoroughly.
And there were softer lips pressing against his ear on the other side, a hand tangling in his hair. Out of the corner of his eye
he saw Cloud's other hand move to rest lightly on Cid's broad shoulder.
His mind stuttered to a complete stop.

*

"There's the cycle."
"What are they doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"I don't know, but we're going to find out."
Two shadowy figures moved closer to the little, tumble-down shack.
"What could they possibly be doing in there?"
"If you'll give me a hand, I'll peek through the window. Then we'll know."
"All right."
There was a grunt of effort, then a soft, feminine yelp as the first figure wavered.
"Shh!"
"Sorry, I almost fell!"
"Just look in the window, will you? You're heavy!"
"Shh!" The first figure obeyed, peeking through the wavy glass into the dim room.
Then staring.
"Well?"
"Oh... oh... my..."
"What?!"
"We have a *serious* problem..."
- 5
- 6
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Restful Death