What t$#%?$#%?

BY : larch
Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 532
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.



"Alright, Mr. Highwind, someone paid your bail, youíre free to go. Donít go anywhere too soon, though, we still want to question you tomorrow," The officer said, opening the door of the cell.


"Tomorrow? Sweet, holyóthis is a murder case, not a fucking bank loan!" Cid yelled, running to keep up as the officer walked away.


"Yeah, whatever," the officer said, sitting down at his desk. "Look, itís almost midnight and theyíre probably asleep." From the looks of him, he was about to do just the same.


"Sounds like itíd be cheaper to stay in the cell than spend money on the hotel," Cid commented.


"Tough. Your bailís been paid, get out."


"Thanks for the hospitality."


"This isnít a grocery store. We donít want people coming back here and spending their money."


"But you want ME to come back."


"Doesnít mean I care," the officer said. "Now Iím going to count to three."


"And if I still here?" Cid asked, lighting a cigarette.


"Iím going to fall asleep anyways. Go away."


Cid grumbled and stormed away. "íBout fuckiní time Sheraó" Cid stopped, it was almost audible the way he skidded to a halt and the rest of his body almost had trouble keeping up with his feet as they firmly stuck to the floor.


Now, when some people see the one person theyíve always loved, especially if they had an incorrigible urge to jump that person every second they saw them, they say everything stops for them. Cid had never believed it and thought the concept of time and motion stopping would be a real mood-killer. Yet here he was, his feet stuck to the floor, his breath caught in his throat, and if he didnít know better, all the clocks had stopped.


"Vincent?" Cid asked.


Cid and Vincent had what most people called a history; Cid called it a Soap Opera. Between a maniac out to end the world, Cloudís amnesia and love triangle, and his past with Vincent, Cid was surprised no oneís long lost twin had shown up.


Vincent just stared at him, which, for Vincent, was a reply. Vincent watched everything as he made the shadows blend in with him. No matter what he ever wore, he just vanished into the background until he wanted to be noticed, unless someone was either looking really closely, or happened to walk into him. Just like a cat. He watched people like a cat, too. Cid used to think it was cute in a subtle, manly sort of way, but now Cid didnít like the fact that Vincent kept looking at him as if he had threatened to get him fixed.


"You paid my bail?" Cid asked, completely baffled. Cid thought the prospects of Vincent coming back to him were as good as the prospects of seeing Rufus paying for someoneís dinner and saying ĎGod Bless us, everyone!í


"You still have a problem with authority, I see," Vincent said.


"I do fucking not!" Cid yelled so loud there was a slight echo.


Vincent pointing to the NO SMOKING sign.


"Whatever. How the fuck did you know I was here? I only got one phone call and that was to Shera."


"I read the papers," Vincent said, turning, and started walking.


"Vincent, thatís the crappiest goddamn lie youíve ever come up with!" Admittedly, it was the only lie Vincent had ever told him. Usually Vincent just didnít answer. Usually they were talking in bed and Vincent would roll over and hog the covers and pout while Cid slapped his forehead and grumbled about them not talking enough. Usually theyíd wind up lying close together, bodies pressing against each other, trying to take in as much as the other personís warmth as possible, Cidís hands trying to tell them both what they should do next. Usually Cidís hands had less tact than the rest of him. Somehow Ďusuallyí began applying to over three years ago. "This village isnít big enough for a paper. Hell, itís not big enough for a PTA meeting. How the hell did you know I was in jail?"


"Iím contemplating telling you about that," Vincent answered. Suddenly everything was much colder, which Cid took as a bad omen until he walked right into a lamppost. They were outside.


Cid looked around. He couldnít get in his plane and leave, the authorities still wanted to talk to him. For that matter he couldnít get in his plane without looking like he intended to escape. Not that he didnít want to just jump in a warm plane, away from screaming kids with runny noses and little coordination thanks to the bulky clothes they wore. He also wanted to escape from a village with no bar, with only bargain brand cigarettes in the stores and food usually served only in school cafeterias. What he really wanted to escape was the argument that was heavier than his rocket had been, thicker than Cloudís skull, and was making him more uneasy than the time Shera had asked him to get her some pads on his way to the store.


"VinceÖ" he said, turning around.


There was nothing there but falling snow.


"I thought only guys in spandex could do that."

* * * * *

"Youíre full? How can you be full?" Cid asked the hotel manager. Actually, it was the hotel managerís young daughter, but she seemed to have it together better than the manger did on his better days.


"We only have three rooms."


"I take it this ainít much of a tourist attraction."


"Nope. We donít get many terrorists around here."


"I said Ďtourist.í Look, can I just sleep in a chair?"


"Nope."


Cid sighed. He had three options of finding a sleeping place tonight. He could sleep in the snow and get more frostbite than rest. He could do something stupid and get himself arrested again just to be able to sleep in the jail, but that depended solely on the police force, which consisted of two people and a dogófour if you counted a sorry looking plant at the stationóto get up just to arrest someone looking for a bed. The last option was to sleep in the abandoned building Dr. Gast had hidden out in. As much as documentaries put him to sleep, it was cancelled out by the fact that he was sleeping in the same room with a snuff film. His options seemed almost as bleak as Nanakiís chances with a dating service.


"You sure there isnít a Vincent Valentine, or anyone with a name like that using one of the rooms?"


"Yup," the girl said as the phone rang. She ignored him as she doodled a scribble that was either a fish or a moose as she listened. "Youíre Cid Highwind?"


"Either that or Iíve been checking the wrong mailbox for the last few years."


"Nevermind. Heís in the third room."


"Huh?" Cid asked. "Did I just miss something?"


"He paid me five gil not to tell anyone he was here, but he changed his mind."


Cid contemplated asking her what she was talking about, but decided he was too tired for the answer. Unfortunately, he was too tired to contemplate it very fast and the kid directed himótwiceóto the stairs.


Once he got to the door he stood there, wobbling from exhaustion, and wondered why nothing was happening. Then he remembered to knock. He was beginning to think that if he had bothered to try and sleep on a bed in jail, heíd never be awake enough to actually commit any sort of crime.


"Come in," he heard.


Cid half-stepped; half fell into the room. He closed the door and steadied himself on it.


Vincent was sitting on the bed cleaning his gun. As tempting a scene as it was, it was ruined when Vincent glanced up at Cid. Vincent could take the mood out of anything, phallic symbol or not.


"SoÖ" Cid started, scratching his head and yawning. "Thanks for payiní the bail. I can pay you back ifó"


"No."


"Why are you so damn mad at me? Whatíd I do?"


"You kicked me out, as I recall."


"I didnít kick you out. It was killing us both and you know it."


"And thatís why you told me to leave?"


"I told you if you needed help, Iíd come and help you. You could have called, or written a letter, or dropped byó"


"Or taken my boxers off in bed," Vincent said.


Cid didnít like the way Vincent spoke, then again he didnít like the way Vincent was inspecting his gun.


"You were arrested for the murder of a construction worker down by the springs, werenít you?"


"Howíd you know?" Cid asked.


"Because I was the one who called the cops. I was also the one who explained to them that no one was stupid enough to knock themselves unconscious at the scene of the crime."


"You also paid my bail. Either you REALLY wanted to ignore me, or youíre interested in all this."


"I always did enjoy the fact that conversations with you were faster than with Cloud," Vincent said, setting the gun aside to Cidís relief.


"Iím going to take that as a compliment," Cid said.


"Donít get your hopes up."


"Thatís not the only thing getting up when youíre around and you know it."


"You never did know how to take ĎNoí for an answer did you?"


"Is it me, or does this have nothing to do with the murder?"


"It has to do with us. I thought you said that was more important than the rest of the world."


"Look, Vince, Iíll sit through youíre abuse and Iíll take. But Iíve been up for thirty-six hours straight. Please donít take offense if I pass out."


"Youíve been away from home for thirty-six hours?"


"Nah, I had this schedule and the authorities fucked it all up. I wouldnít be getting home for another week, and that would be to pick up cargo. Not enough time to talk to Shera. Whole thingís gonna last a fortnight."


"How long have you been gone?"


"So far? Five days. Why?" Cid asked, sitting down on the floor. He needed what was left of his brainconcconcentrate on what Vincent was talking about. However, that meant he couldnít concentrate on anything else, such balancing.


"You donít read the news do you?"


"Not really. Itís fulla politics and I donít have the time much. I told Shera to tell me if anything happened."


"Reeveís dead."


"Oh, right. Wait, what?"


"Murdered. Gunshots. No one knows who did it."


"Hold on. I just got arrested for a murder I didnít commit. You show up, then you tell me Reeveís dead. You sure Iím not asleep yet?"


"Youíre not in youíre underwear, Cid. This isnít a dream."


"Youíre here, and Iím not in my underwear? If this is a dream, itís a crappy one. Pretty crappy reality too."


"Cid, can we get back to the topic on hand? What the hellís going to prove you arenít dreaming?"


"You could kiss me."


Vincent kicked Cid in the jaw with his booted foot.


"Close enough," Cid said, rubbing his jaw. "I guess I should be happy youíre even talking to me."


"Yes, you should be. The only suspects were the TURKS. They all lost their jobs when Shinra fell and Reeve was too much of a pacifist for them to return to the good old days of burning and pillaging. Reno was raising hell in Gongaga and Rudeís dead. His apartment was destroyed and there hasnít been a trace of him since."


"Vince, heís a TURK, how do you know heís not just somewhere else and some fucker broke in?"


"Because all his weapons were left behind. He didnít take any with him. Plus the damage looks like it was caused by a small bomb."


"What about Elena?"


"She was arresting Reno."


"What about AVALANCHE?"


"Youíre accusing your fds?&ds?"


"No, Iím saying someone else might."


"Barrett and Elmyra were at home all night. Cloud was babysitting Marlene and Tifa was babysitting Cloud. I was here; you were on your plane. Nanaki canít use a gun and Yuffie was in Wutai. Everyone had witnesses."


"Why are you getting so worked up about this, Vince? I mean, this all seems pretty creepy, butÖ why you?"


"You think I donít care about people?"


"Well, you did use to be a TURK. Last I checked, that involved more killing and a bigger show of force in a month than most TV networks show in a year. I just didnít think you were too big on morals."


"Iíve changed Cid. I thought that was what you wanted."


"Itís a pretty big change for you to start playing Caped Crusader. Not that you donít have the outfit for it."


Vincent said nothing.


Cid said nothing back.


If there was one thing Vincent had learned form his time in the TURKS; it was how to scare people just by looking at people. He kept staring at Cid, the way a praying mantis stares a something too big too eat and wonders if itís having a bad enough day to bite its head off anyway. Between his eyes and his left arm, Vincent gave off the impression that either you should make sure he ignored you or that you should become his friend before he decided he was hungry.


The overall effect of the glare was lost on Cid, who yawned and tried to blink away his drowsiness. The problem with being intimidating is making sure your victim has the mental capacity to be scared of you in the first place. That must have been why Cloud was never scared of him; that and probably the bed-head from sleeping in the coffin.


"Well, thanks for telliní me. You gonna kick me out as revenge or you wanna kiss and makeup?"


"Cid, you couldnít kiss and makeup if your life were on the line. Hell, you couldnít kiss and makeup if you plane were on the line."


"Hey, Iím a pretty good kisser."


"The last time you said you loved me you were handing me a suitcase and told me we had to break up and I had to get out of the house."


"Vincent, you donít understand."


"No, Cid. I understand. I understand way too much, thatís my problem. I always understand way too much, way too late. Itís always been my problem. Now, are you going to start humping the bed or listen to the rest of what I have to say?"


"Iíll listen. If I donít fall asleep first."


"Iím asking you for a favor, Cid. No one was trying to frame you, they just didnít want a witness."


"How do you know?&qu/P> /P>

"Because his name was Andy Seaberg. I knew him. Just for two days, but I knew him. He wasnít the real target, Cid. I was. Andy got too close. Someoneís after me, but they know I can take care of myself. Now Reeveís gone, and Rudeís dead. I donít know whatís going on, but I donít like it. Especially since I never told anyone about my past."


"Well, donít lookit me."


"Are you going to help me or not?"


"When Iím awake, sure."


"What about the plane?"


"Iíll call the boys in the morning. Tell Ďem to go get back on schedule."


Cid looked at Vincent, hoping to some sort of thanks, but Vincent started taking off his shoes, acting as if the conversation never happened.


"You can sleep on the floor," Vincent said, one of his boots hitting the floor.


"Thanks," Cid said. He knew he should be grateful Vincent was letting him sleep anywhere near him, but he wondered if Vincent was going to try and strangle him in the night, though.


Vincent dropped his other boot on the floor. He unbuckled his cape and tossed it in a corner. He stared at the floor as if he expected it to answer a question he hadnít asked it. He sighed; floors werenít great conversationalists, and he knew he had to ask the question to someone else.


"CidÖ why are you doing this?"í


Cidís response wasnít the one Vincent wanted, but it was to be expected. He snored. Vincent looked over at Cid, slumbering away on the cold hard floor.


Part of him wanted to slap Cid very hard across the face with his left hand. Part of him wanted to punch Cid in the jaw. Part of him even wished Cid would get bitten in the crotch by a poisonous snake. Somehow, though, the part of him that on out was the tiny little voice in his head, making him put a blanket over Cid and toss a pillow at him.





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