What Friends are For

'What Friends are For' Chapter 9: Discoveries
Cid comes to a realization, and later learns another of Vincent's secret. [WAFF, Yaoi, HJ, and more WAFF]

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It was almost nostalgic, sitting on the deck of the Highwind as Junior piloted us toward Wutai. Vince was his usual calm, collected self, of course. And me? I was worrying again. About something different, this time at least.

Not since our first morning together had Vince let me touch him. He'd given the three best sexual experiences of my life, but he wouldn't let me return the favor, and I was feeling pretty damn guilty about it. Especially since the last one had made me pass out - if he had been anyone else, I knew I wouldn't live it down. It didn't last long, just a couple minutes, but I knew the whole encounter was over when he kissed me and said we needed to pack.

I wanted to ask him why. I wanted to ask if there was something wrong. But something held me back. He seemed so content to have given me what he could, and it bothered me. Part of me wondered if that sick bastard had killed Vince's sex drive, and he'd only let me make him orgasm because he thought I wanted it. It made a twisted sort of sense, but the thought made me feel selfish, like... Like I was using him.

I sighed and fished out a cigarette, and held it in my lips as I dug for my lighter. But it wasn't in the pocket where I always kept it. 'What the hell? I thought as I searched my other pockets, but it wasn't there.

It wasn't until then that I realized something was wrong with the cigarette - it didn't taste right. I inhaled through the filter, and gagged. The damn thing was stale, so I dug out another, but it was the same. As was the next, and the next, and every damn cigarette in the pack. I stared at them in confusion as they lay in my hand.

"Is something wrong?" Vince asked, glancing over at me.

I tightened my fist, crushing the white sticks I held, then stuffed them back into the pack. "Yeah. My smokes are all stale. If I could remember where I bought 'em, I'd hunt down the bastard that sold 'em to me."

Vince's quiet laugh surprised me, and I looked at him with a frown. "I was wondering when you would notice," he said softly.

"Notice what?" I growled, and stuffed the mauled pack into a pocket. I felt like just throwing them as hard as I could over the rail, but as much as they pissed me off, I couldn't bring myself to let them litter the ground below.

"Cid," he sighed, "when was the last time you actually smoked?"

I started to reply; it was yesterday, wasn't it? No.. Maybe the day before. Or the day before that. Or... Maybe the week before? My mouth snapped shut when I realized I couldn't remember when I last lit one of my cigarettes. Sure, I often had one in my lips, chewing on the filter, but I haven't smoked in...

"Three months," Vince offered.

I stared at him blankly. There's no way it could've been that long. "Yer kiddin'."

"No, I am not," he replied. "It has been three months since you last lit a cigarette."

That wasn't right, was it? I was sure I'd had one since then. But if I had, I couldn't remember, and the ones I had just mangled certainly tasted foul enough to be three months old. I tried to think of when I'd last had a smoke, but all that came to me were images of the legendary Valentine Glare, and--

Well, shit.

"Dammit, Vince, you made me quit smoking!" I sighed, laying my head back against the metal behind me.

"Is it a bad thing?" he asked, as he slipped a hand over to take mine. "I think you taste better without the smell of smoke clinging to you. Besides, I did not make you quit, I merely encouraged you to."

I'd been smoking for half my life. Sure, I'd tried to quit a few times, but it's not easy to quit an addiction. Yet Vince managed to get me to stop... simply because I didn't want to disappoint him. The last few times I'd even taken one from the pack was more for the familiarity and comfort than to get rid of a nicotine craving.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who was changing.

"...Thanks, Vince," I said after a moment, and he just smiled.

I heard the door to the lift open behind us, and one of my boys peeked his head around the corner. "Junior sez to tell you we'll be landing soon, Captain."

"Go tell 'im I said thanks, an' we'll be ready by the time we land," I replied. He saluted, and I heard the door shut again as he went back to the bridge.

I stood and helped Vince up, and we headed to my room to get our bags.

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Wutai had grown since Sephiroth's defeat, the destruction of Meteor, and the disbanding of ShinRa. They weren't as distrustful of strangers, and they somehow managed to keep the exotic city from becoming another tourist trap like Costa del Sol. Not many people could afford to visit; it was a long journey that involved going over water as well as land, and I had the only reliable air transportation in the world. So it was a nice vacation spot for the wealthy and well-known, a place they could go and get away from it all.

This meant that the manager of the hotel we went to was perfectly understanding when Vince informed him that we were to not be disturbed by anyone under any circumstances - except Junior, and only in an emergency. He made sure to add that we definitely did not want Miss Kisaragi to know we were there. In fact, he was quite emphatic about it. Not that I could blame him.

I'd somewhat expected the clerk to be at least partly affected by having two men ask for the honeymoon suite, but he didn't so much as bat an eye; he checked us in, took our gil, and had a bellhop lead us to our room. Except, it wasn't a room - it was a house.

No, I don't mean it was a suite as big as a house, I mean it was a small guest house in its own plot of land surrounded by elegantly decorated fences that stood ten feet high if they were an inch. The little building had enough room for a bedroom, a sitting area, a kitchenette and dining area, and a bathroom the biggest damn tub I've seen. In the back was an artificial hot spring, a smaller copy of the ones Wutai was known for.

We tipped our escort and headed to the bedroom to unpack. Vince and I had decided on a three-day stay; the arrangements for the ceremony had been made before we came to the hotel. We were getting married in the morning, and--

My train of thought stopped there as if it had hit a roadblock. Married. Something I'd sworn I'd never do, that I'd never need. Before Vince, I'd never so much as looked at another guy beyond friends, drinking-and-poker buddies, someone to shoot the breeze with. I'd had the sky, and my right hand, and that was good enough for me.

Yet here I was, in a romantic resort cottage with a man I'd met not even a year and a half ago, who I'd given my heart to almost immediately after. I'd asked him to marry me, and he'd said yes.

I think it all hit me just then - everything that had happened in the past few days. I needed to sit down, but had forgotten I was standing in front of the dresser, where I was putting away our clothes. There wasn't anything but the floor to catch me; I yelped when I went down farther than I'd expected and my ass hit the floor with a painful thump.

Vince hurried in from the bathroom to find me laying on my back on the floor, staring dazedly at the ceiling, the shirt I'd been about to put away still in my hand. He looked down at me in confusion. He'd changed into one of the silken robes the place had provided - black and red, of course. His hair was loose, draping over his shoulders and a bit in his face. His left hand was bare - the gauntlet had come off almost as soon as we were behind closed doors.

Damn, did he look good.

"Hiya, Vince," I said with a grin. "Did'ja know we're getting married tomorrow?"

With a laugh and a shake of his head, he offered a hand to help me up, which I accepted. "Of course I did. I said yes, did I not?"

I nodded, and tossed the shirt over to the dresser, freeing my hands so I could slip my arms around his waist. I could feel the firmness of his muscles through the soft fabric; the silky material caught on my calloused fingers. "That ya did. It just all came to me, ya know? A week ago, I was still moonin' after ya like a lovesick kid too damn shy to say anythin', and look at us now."

His right hand cupped under my chin, fingers splayed over my cheek as his thumb brushed my lips. "Having second thoughts?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head in response, and sighed, pursing my lips to kiss the tip of his thumb. "No, not second thoughts, just..." I trailed off, unsure of what I wanted to say.

He knew there was something, though. Wordlessly he guided me over to the bed and nudged me to sit, then moved to straddle my thighs. Almost reflexively my hands moved to his waist; his own arms looped around my shoulders. "Talk to me, Cid," he said softly.

"Vince--" I stopped before I could say anything, and laid my forehead against his chest. "I don't want to ask ya this, but I have a feeling if I don't, I'll regret it later." I took a deep breath. 'It's now or never.' How true were those words at that moment? "Why don't ya let me touch ya. Vince?" I asked in a low voice. "You do the most amazin' things for me, but ya won't let me do more than kiss ya."

His hand moved over my shoulder and cupped the back of my neck; his touch was feather-soft, enough to send shivers down my spine. "Do you not enjoy what I do for you?" he asked, almost sounding confused.

"Of course I do!" I replied quickly, then paused. "It's just... I want to do the same for you, ya know. This kinda thing is supposed ta be about sharing." I fell silent, not sure what else to say. I'd never been good at the whole emotional thing - hell, look how long it took me just to tell the guy I loved him.

Vince sighed into my hair, and curved his arms around me. He didn't reply for a long moment, but I didn't push him. I knew how he was - always thoughtful, careful to consider his words when he had something important to say. So I just waited, leaning against him as my arms tucked around his waist, loving the way he felt against me.

"...I am sorry, Cid," he said finally, breaking the lingering silence. "I did not think..." He trailed off, and he laid his cheek on my shoulder. I could feel his lips brush against the side of my neck as he spoke. "As I said, I have little experience. I know... too little of having a lover. I was too content to give you pleasure to think of my own. It makes me happy to know you enjoy what I do to you, and for you."

It was my turn to think; I made a soft noise, moving a hand to brush it over the small of his back. "Ya might not have much experience," I murmured, "but ya sure seem ta know what yer doing."

He tensed in my arms, and I wondered if I'd said something wrong. Before I could say anything, he spoke. "I had been hoping you would not ask about that. It is, as you said, not an easy thing to hear, but..." He took a deep breath, and leaned back enough to catch my eyes with his own. I could see his reluctance, and his worry. "You deserve to know, before we go to far."

It was my turn to catch his chin, holding him still as I kissed his lips lightly. "Vince, as corny as it sounds, it was too late the minute I helped ya out of that damn coffin," I replied. "I won't say it was love at first sight, that kinda stuff only happens in stories, but it was somethin'. An' it's had more than a year ta get better."

"You may change your mind once you know how I came by my knowledge." I started to reply, but he silenced me with the touch of his fingertips. "Please. Allow me to finish?" He waited for my accepting nod before continuing. "You have seen Chaos. You know he resides in me, and I allow him his freedom at times. But you do not know the depths of our bond."

I felt a cold chill, and I shivered; and suddenly, I wondered if I really wanted to know.

"We are inseparable, he and I. Mind, body, and soul. We have been together for a long, long time, and most of that was spent with only each other for company. I would not say we are friends, but we have an intimate knowledge of one another." He paused again; I wanted to tell him I changed my mind, I didn't want to know after all, but I was frozen in place, watching him watch me as the next words fell from his lips.

"I said I had little experience, and that is true," he said softly. "But a demon had thirty years alone with me to teach me what he knew. He... delighted in it. Corrupting my mind after Hojo tainted my body. I tried to counter it by showing him what it means to be human, but what did I know? Killing and pain as a Turk, torture and suffering as an experiment." He stopped, and took a deep shuddering breath. It was his turn to duck his head down, leaning against me for support, and I held him even tighter. "It is a miracle I managed to keep what little bit of myself I did... That I still remained human."

I hated the way that last word twisted itself from his mouth. I hated Chaos, for nearly ruining Vince. But most of all, I hated that sick bastard that did this to him, even more than I already had. 'Damn you, Hojo, I hope Chaos' brothers got their filthy claws on you...' It tore my heart out to see Vince like that. Just like the demon's feeding, he thought it would drive me away, that I'd loathe him for something that wasn't his fault. I wanted to reassure him, to let him know it was okay, but words wouldn't work, wouldn't be enough. I decided I needed to do something.

As carefully I could, I managed to stand and ease Vince to the bed, giving him a tender kiss and asking him to wait. He was still worried, still afraid... and still willing to trust.

I loved him so much in that moment that it hurt.

I slipped off to the bathroom and turned on the bathtub faucet, letting the water flow just a little hotter than I could stand. There was a row of bottles on a cabinet close by, and I peered at them in turn; bubble bath solutions, oils, things to make the water more pleasant. I picked one that was a brilliant red color, simply because it reminded me of Vince's eyes. The smell of cinnamon greeted me when I unscrewed the top, and I smiled, adding some to the gradually filling tub. The scent swirled through the tiled room with the steam; that would do nicely. I pulled closed the first layer of curtains; it was just enough to dim the waning afternoon light as it passed into evening.

I passed back into the room and held my hands out to Vince, shaking my head when he began to speak. He took the offered grip, and I pulled him to his feet. I undid the sash holding his robe closed and slid it from his shoulders, then squatted down to gently tug off the shorts he wore beneath; he held my shoulder with his right hand as he stepped from the material. When I stood, my arms slipped behind his knees and under his arms to lift him up. His eyes widened slightly, and I smiled, giving him a brief kiss before carrying him into the bathroom.

The air was already filled with the scent of cinnamon and the weight of the steam; the tub was half full. Moving to the edge, I lowered him to one of the seats on the inside, pausing when he hissed softly from the heat, though he didn't protest. I shut the door to keep the warmth from escaping, then quickly slipped from my own clothing and climbed in next to him. I could see why he'd hissed, it was on the verge of being too hot, but it felt nice to ease into the water.

I leaned against the side of the tub, legs extended to prop my feet on the other side. It was a stretch, but it'd do. Silently I held my hands out, motioning for Vince to come to me. He did, and I helped him ease into my lap, letting his back rest against my chest as my arms folded over his belly.

"I love you, Vincent Valentine," I murmured into his ear. He shivered against me, then relaxed, closing his eyes with his head laid back on my shoulder and a slight smile on his lips. Everything was going to be fine.

We laid like that, unmoving and silent, the rush of water echoing through the room. When it was a few inches from the top, I moved just enough to turn off the tap, then leaned back again with Vince nested against me. My hands moved slowly, cupping the cinnamon-scented water and letting it flow over his shoulders and upper chest, brushing his throat with heated fingertips. He felt wonderful under my touch; the oil I'd added was just enough to make things a bit slick, and my skin moved easily against his. I didn't care about erotic, I didn't care about sex, I just knew that Vince's skin was the most amazing thing in existence at that moment.

I wanted to feel every inch, and I did. Fingers drifted over him, once again tracing the lines of his scars, but paying attention to the spaces between; he shivered against me with the caress of my fingertips over his unmarked surfaces. Words weren't needed, just soft touches that drifted over his chest and down his sides, across his abdomen. I moved to his thighs, and without my coaxing, he lifted each leg in turn so I could reach, letting my fingers explore from hip to sole and back again. I marveled at the firmness of his muscles that were hidden beneath his slender frame; my hands worshiped every curve and plane, every dip and swell. My eyes were closed; they had been for a while, I realized. But it didn't matter. My hands were my eyes, my touch was my sight, and I did my best to memorize every bit of the man that was to be my husband.

I guided him to lean forward, and I moved to his back. The scars there were worse - broader and longer, and it made me cringe inside for the pain he went through. There were two running parallel to his spine, from shoulder blades to hips, where I knew his wings would emerge; they still seemed reddened, not quite healed. He shifted when I touched those but didn't move away, and I let my touch soothe them more than the rest of the marks.

I slid my palms up his back slowly, and smiled when he arched into the movement. I gathered his hair in my hands, the dry strands clinging to my damp, calloused skin, and I twisted it gently to hold it aside. My lips joined in, unable to wait any longer; I trailed kisses over his shoulders from one side to the other, then back again. Then up to the back of his neck to give soft, nibbling kisses, letting my teeth graze his skin before soothing it with soft flicks from my tongue, savoring the taste of Vince seasoned with cinnamon.

"Cid," he whispered softly, pleadingly, and I smiled. My arms slid around him again, pulling him back against my chest once more as I leaned into the contours behind me. This time, when my hands slid down, they had a more definite purpose. I curled my fingers around that length of hardened flesh too precious for a crude word like 'cock', too tempting to be called 'penis'; at that moment, it was the center of my attention, the center of my whole damn universe.

I gave that extension of him as much attention as I had the entirety of his body, letting my oil-slicked grip move gently, exploring thoroughly, tracing every ridge and vein and the few soft creases. I teased over the tip, the smoothest part of his maleness, and let the pad of my index finger rub in circles around the slit; even with the heated, slick water, I could still feel a bit of his pre where it had bubbled from him without being swept away with the currents caused by my movements.

He was laying perfectly still against me, eyes closed and breathing heavy from the effort it took to stay calm.I could feel him trembling, muscles twitching, and every now and then a faint whimper escaped, or a soft moan. He was trying to keep control, I knew, but it was slipping, though I couldn't tell if he wanted it to or not. I just wanted him to feel good, to feel human, to know that I loved him no matter what was done to him.

I tightened my grip gently, no longer teasing, but stroking firmly now. My other arm was under his, crossing his chest to splay my hand there, pinning him to me with a firm pressure. He let his legs fall to either side of mine, and his hands gripped at the arm at his chest. It reminded me of when he did the same to me on our second flight. I wanted to give him the same pleasure, make him feel like I had; if his tenseness was any indication, he was close.

I caught the lobe of his ear between my teeth and flicked the edge with the tip of my tongue; he rewarded me with a shiver and a soft moan. I released it to whisper softly to him.

"It's okay, Vince. Let go."

With a muffled, drawn-out cry, he did, arching into me as his body shuddered its way through his orgasm. He flowed into the water, my hand milking him steadily, doing my best to draw out his climax as long as I can, until his hand covered my own to get me to stop. He relaxed again, forcing his breaths to even out though he twitched a bit still. I eased myself down in the water until it rose up to our chins; he slid from me a bit to wet all of his hair before returning to my chest. It was long enough still to drift from him, and I spent a moment watching it, my hand swaying below the surface of the water to make the strands drift about.

He tilted his head to look up at me, and I smiled, stealing a kiss from him - though I don't think he minded. Without pulling his lips from mine, he twisted sinuously about, until he was straddling my legs facing me. His arms slid around my shoulders and he leaned forward, pinning me with his chest against mine. That suited me just fine; I held him with my own arms, letting one hand splay over his back. The other drifted downward to ease tentatively over one of his cheeks and give a gentle squeeze; he made a soft, surprised sound in response.

Vince pulled away a bit, giving me a questioning look. I shook my head in silent response, mouthing a single word: "Tomorrow." He smiled, and nodded, understanding.

I took his hand in mine, moving it to my own erection, and his fingers curled around it firmly. Our kiss was slow, languid as he stroked me, his fist moving at a quicker pace than mine had. We both knew it was more to take the edge off my arousal than any real pressing need; I didn't fight it as he quickly coaxed me to completion, my seed clouding the water slightly along with his own.

We relaxed like that, him leaning against my chest and my arms around him, letting the heat from the water seep into our muscles. It wasn't until the light faded outside and the bath began to cool that we carefully climbed out. There was a separate shower where we rinsed the slickness from our skin, taking turns to brush the lathered sponge over each other, each helping to wash the other's hair. And despite the washing, the cinnamon scent was still there, a comfortable reminder of our bath.

We crawled into bed nude with me on my right side and him curled up behind me, his left arm over my waist. Just like the night at Tifa's, my hands found his, holding him as we fell asleep.