By: Caz [theinfamouscaz@aol.com]

Rating/Summary: PG-13 (could end up R)/Nothing more than a random what-if.

Notes: Second chapter. Might be more. I keep myself guessing. Slight yaoi in this bit. Thanks to my loverly beta, much love <3.

A few nondescribed hours later, Cid sat in a reclined chair in his bedroom. He lazily munched on an apple, stared at the ceiling. For the first time that night, he was alone with his thoughts. And that means he finally had a chance to straighten some of them out… which basically meant that he was regretting what they were. Regretting what he'd said? Normally, that didn't happen; if he said it and it came out on its own, it was what he felt. But he thought he'd been too quick to anger in Vincent's case.

Perhaps it was because he felt so damn sorry for the man. (For anyone that had nothing better to do than beat himself up over things that had happened years ago.)

People like that just… got to him. He grunted.

As far as he knew, Vince still hadn't come inside from the deck. It was around midnight now… would be getting pretty cool out. A suspicion in the back of his head told him that Vincent wouldn't care about that. He sighed, shook his head. Vince was fuckin' haunted. That's all he had to say. He folded his arms behind his head and took a deep breath.

One minute.

Two.

Stupid depressed thing getting him all worked up over nothing… he muttered, stood, and stamped from the room. He grabbed his jacket from the coat hook outside the door and tromped down the stairs. As he passed the door to the bridge, Cloud stuck his head out and gave him a questioning look.

"Checking on Valentine," he said. Cloud nodded.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about him!" the swordsman said with a smile and a wink. Cid paused, faced Cloud with a dramatic eyeroll.

"Y'know what, Blondie? Fuck you."

He continued down the hallway.

The deck was a lot colder than he'd felt before, but the view was still beautiful. As he stepped through the door, Vincent glanced up from his hunched position along the guardrail. His eyes were dark; his face was pale.

"What do you want?" he said, voice subdued. Cid cleared his throat.

"I--uh… I wanted to apologize." He paused. "For yellin' at you an' all. Just overreacted… hehe."

From beneath the wrappings of his overcoat (which he'd replaced when the temperature had dropped), Vincent showed a reluctant smile. It disapeared as quickly as it had been, however. He turned to face Cid with a shake of his head.

"It's fine," the statement was accompanied by a vague, dismissive wave. He stood for a moment, then lowered his hand. "You were just trying to help."

Cid sighed. "You're too fuckin' submissive, know that?"

The remark drew no reply from Vincent. He reminded himself that Cid had tried to help him… and that thought was enough to convince him to hold his tongue. Cid approached him, stopped.

"Sorry for that, too," he grumbled. That was more apologizing than he'd done in practically his entire life.

Vincent nodded. He dew his cloak over his bad hand, leaning back against the railing. Almost the same position Cid had found him in earlier. He stared at the floor. Part of him wished the nosy pilot would just get up and leave; his presence was helping no one. But some other part of him was glad that Cid had taken the decency to apologize. Most people didn't.

Drained of whatever energy he had, he slumped down and sat on the wooden deck with his back against one of the slim posts that protruded from the underside of the vessel. His cloak billowed out around him; he drew his knees to his chest. Sensing movement above him, he glanced up to see Cid crouching in front of him. They were nearly at eye level, but he still needed to tilt his chin upward to meet the concerned gaze directed down at him.

"What?" he asked.

Cid shook his head. "Nothin'. Just wondering what makes a person like you tick. So much darkness; makes me wonder if there's any light in there."

Lowering his eyes, Vincent sighed.

"I doubt it."

He felt the warm presence of Cid's palm against his chin, lifting it up so that their eyes were forced to meet. Cid raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"I don't think so. You can't tell me a face that pretty can't,"

Vincent placed his good hand against Cid's wrist, attempting to pull it away.

"I don't know if you're drunk or just suddenly care. It's my business, not yours."

Sporting a smile barely visible, Cid reached down and clamped his other hand over Vincent's claw, entwining their fingers.

"Yeah? I'm makin' it my business."

He then leaned down, closing his eyes and catching Vincent's lips on his own.

The kiss, if it could truly be called that due to the lack of planning and complete randomness of the act, lasted all of three or four seconds. But they remained millimeters apart for minutes afterward. Vincent was somewhere between shock and a complete lack of feeling. What had just happened was bizarre and wrong on so many levels--what more, it was Cid. He never showed affection for anyone! He was selfish, obnoxious, self-serving…

"What are you doing?" he tried to ask, but he was still somewhat numb. Cid got the idea.

"Just provin' you wrong." Was all he said. He ruffled the stunned Vincent's hair and grinned.

"Yep… think I just did."

He leaned in, deposited another quick kiss to Vincent's cheek, and stood. Smirking, winking, he walked from the deck as though nothing had occurred.

Left alone.

Vincent found himself unable to move for several minutes. He stared at the stars, unobscured by the pollution above the sea.

Something inside him felt different.