Archive of Our Own

Vincent spun a clean cigarette in his talons, careful to keep the thin paper from splitting on the razored edges. Keeping at least a pack on him was habit now, though he never smoked them.

A searing flash of familiar blue eyes had him closing his own.

He wondered if this was how Icarus had felt, gazing into the sun and drowning in the depths after flying so high for so long.

The howl of the wind outside of the Inn was nothing compared to the tension in the main room as everyone was asked to pair up.

Vincent quietly resigned himself to sleeping on a cot in the main room when the Captain of the airship volunteered, "Guess Ah'm roomin' with our resident vampire, huh?"

Apparently the rest of their party was just as surprised as Vincent himself and not as well-practiced in hiding it. "I... was going to volunteer for watch... in the main room."

Blue eyes swept up and down his frame and then crinkled at the corners like he'd made a joke. "Ah thought you might be th' self-sacrificing type. C'mon, you deserve a bed just as much as the rest of us. We got th' room at the end of the corridor."

He followed the pilot and then braced himself when the man turned on him, hands on his hips. "Now Ah can feel you putting a title on my name and Ah don't much care for it. Name's Highwind, Cid Highwind and Ah'll thank ya to keep my first name on your tongue if you say it at all. Ah got that bed over there by the window-"

"... Thank you," He uttered, placing Cerberus on the nightstand of the bed closest to the window. "but I will be taking that one."

Highwind—no, Cid—blinked for a moment before he guffawed, a hand slapping his thigh as he settled on the inner bed. "Well, well, what do you know, vampire has some bite to him after all. What's your name?"

"... Vincent Valentine."

"You got a preference there or can Ah give you a nickname?" Cid prodded, pulling a white cigarette out of the battered red pack. "Want one?"

Vincent pulled out his gun cleaning kit, flicked up a Fira to warm the room for the oil to stay liquid. "Never picked up the habit."

"Kinda why Ah wanted the window." Cid admitted with a shrug.

"... You may use it as you please but be warned that the wind is particularly nasty." He mentioned, "If I were... so inclined, I would smoke on the leeward side of the building or in the main room."

"Suppose I could go without for the night, especially considering its colder than Shiva's left tit." 

Vincent chuckled faintly, knowing that the temperature was enough to freeze spit solid at less than a foot. "Colder than Shiva's anything, at the moment. Why do you think I warmed the room to clean my gun?"

"Oh. So that's a no on the nickname then?"

"... I prefer to get to know someone slightly better."

Cid sat back on the bed at that, tucked the cigarette away and then grinned. "Y'know, you just issued me a challenge, Valentine."

"I accept your notion that I'm a challenge," Vincent paused mid-way with a cotton swab in the barrel of Cerberus, "we shall see if you are equally as interesting."

Cid Highwind was not only a challenge but an enigma wrapped in cigarette smoke, grease and an ever-present spear. He sought Vincent out, though there was neither rhyme nor reason to his approach.

"Want one?" Cid offered, the pristine white a picture of contrasts in the greased and  calloused hands.

"No, Cid," Vincent murmured, the dance a similar if slightly new one to him. "Need a light?"

"Your Mama raised you right, huh?" came the teasing rejoinder.

"My Kaa-San was many things," He mentioned quietly. "however, this habit is from my former partner."

"'Partner' partner or...?" Cid inquired, the sympathy in his tone surprising.

"... He was a work partner and a close friend. I've no idea what happened to him." Vincent found himself confessing in the face of earnest interest.

Cid mulled it over, the soft glow of the cigarette tip giving him enough light to see by, "Maybe, when this is all over, we can go see?"

"... See what?"

"If he's still alive." The absolute sincerity cracked something in the walls Vincent had built out of desperation.

"I see there are depths I have yet to sound in you, Cid Highwind." He replied, ignoring the way a slight fondness crept into his tone.

Watching the end of the world, the roar of Meteor and the soul-echoing reply from Holy and the LifeStream shook all of them to the core. It roused his demons, especially the one that was the most articulate.

Host, are you alright?! Chaos pressed, golden concern roiling through his mental landscape.

I'm safely aboard an airship. The Captain is someone I trust. he soothed, the demons rumbling even as the battle between Planet and Meteor continued.

I have lived long, Host, but I would never have dreamt to see Holy in action. Chaos related, watching as the waves of LifeStream broke over the craters of Meteor. My, my but our faith in the Captain is sturdy.

The unasked question that lingered had Vincent pausing at the implications. What do you mean?

You consider him closer than the rest aside from your leader.

... He saved my life. Cid's more than earned my respect but does not demand it. He's a man of his, albeit, foul-mouthed word. People gravitate to him, as though he were the sun to our Planetary orbit. He replied thoughtfully. I almost wish he'd been a Turk.

Almost? Chaos prodded as the light of the LifeStream faded.

Vincent shook his head. I would wish this fate of mine on no one else.

Ah. We are your burden, then, and as you claim us, so too do we claim you, Host.

Vincent huffed at that, Cid coming up on his right side. "What's funny about the end of the world?"

"... Nothing. Merely my past sins rising to greet me with open arms." He offered.

"Ah... can't tell if you're bein' serious or not, Valentine."

"The death of the world will bring out everything a person has to offer, for good or ill." He relayed carefully, "Perhaps we should aid Cloud."

"Well, everyone's got demons. Yours are jus' fuckin' literal." The Captain hummed at that, smoke billowing over his shoulders like a cloak as he exhaled. "Yeah, Ah'm guessin' we should; can't let him face that bastard alone."

Vincent lingered in the corner of the bar before Cid marched over and sat next to him.

"Do you drink, Valentine?"

"... Wine, on occasion. A well-made whiskey or mead if it isn't available." He answered.

"Huh. Hey, Tifa, you got any wine back there?"

"Is it for Vincent?"

"Yeah," Cid gave him a wink, which made Vincent chuckle faintly.

"Nothing quality back here, just some old Kalm vintage." Tifa grunted, apparently digging through the bar's cellar.

"Is it red?" Vincent inquired.

"Don't know but I'll bring it out!" She hummed. "There is a nice whiskey though, so I'm bringing that too."

She wiped down both bottles out of sheer habit, presenting them with the labels facing towards Vincent.

The Kalm vintage was only a decade, the label peeling off. He glanced at the other bottle and rose a brow. It had been bottled the year he'd been shot and was almost as rare as a good Nibel mead.

"Hnn. I'll take the whiskey."

Tifa grinned as Vincent pushed the wine down the bar away from him with his gauntlet. "Guess that one's for the bar, huh?"

"... I suppose."

Cid poured them both a finger of whiskey and looked closer at the label. "By Bahamut's breath, that's a ShinRa wine. No wonder you want nothin' to do with it."

Tifa ripped the label off and slapped a new one on that said only: '7th Heaven House Wine' on it. "Thanks you two, now I've got a house wine! Enjoy the whiskey~"

Vincent picked it up with his right hand, tilted it in the weak sunlight and then startled when Cid brushed the back of his hand against Vincent's gauntlet.

"Oh shit, sorry Valentine-"

The warmth of skin against metal was a shock, however, whether the touch was unwanted was something else entirely.

"I hadn't realized I could still feel things with it." He spoke before thinking, the sensation of it loosening his tongue.

"What d'you mean by that?" Cid asked, setting the glass in his hand down with a quiet -thump!- against the wood of the bar.

"... I've been using it in battle but never felt anything from it. I considered it mostly paralyzed but this may mean that my left arm still has feeling." Vincent admitted carefully.

Cid let his hand hover over the gauntlet, the tension in the room nearly palatable. "C'n Ah...?"

"You may, Captain." He replied steadily.

Cid would never hurt him, not intentionally, and had yet to harm him.

The warmth seared up his arm and left him with a shuddering exhale. Cid slowly stroked up and down the metal and paused at the clawed hand. Vincent slowly opened his fingers, the deadly flower of razored edges tamed by the simple move.

No one made comment when Cid spent the rest of the afternoon trailing his fingers against Vincent's golden palm nor when a rusty purr began to sound from the enveloping red cloak.

The white strip just under Cid's goggle strap fascinated Vincent. Was it covering  something Cid was ashamed of? Did it have a medical purpose?

"Are you gonna ask or am Ah gonna have to live with you eyeballin' my goggles from here to eternity, Valentine?" Cid prodded dryly.

"... My apologies, Captain. It is one of the few items upon your person that you take pains to keep clean." He replied.

"Ah told you, it's Cid," came the amused statement, "and Ah might as well show it to ya. Ah gotta change the strip anyways."

Vincent followed Cid down the airship's bridge to the bathroom in the captain's cabin. He removed his goggles, peeled off the strip and turned around.

The scar ran from the opposite side of his hairline, cut across his forehead and ended right where the strip covered it. It was shallow on both ends but thicker in the middle, right underneath the darkened panes of the goggles.

"That spaceship? Yeah, had a panel come crashing down right on my face years ago. Should've known then that Shera was right but... The folly of youthful spirit." Cid grinned but it was strained. "Say somethin', will ya? Ah don't go showin' this to everyone, you know."

"... May I?"

Vincent lifted his hand and Cid froze before he laughed. "What the hell, why not?"

He kept his touch light but felt the scar tissue under his thumb, the thickness of it testifying to a hastily cast Cura. "Have you had anyone heal it since it happened?"

"Didn't want to let Shera know she didn't fix it all th' way and Ah wasn't exactly nice to her after they shut us down. You don't have the monopoly on sins, ya know." Cid muttered, leaning into his touch the same way Vincent had leaned into Cid's a few months prior.

"Cura," he traced over it again, feeling the thicker tissue subside but not vanish entirely. The scar was too old to fix all the way but at least the goggles would sit more evenly in the future.

Cid's eyes had closed under his ministrations but now they looked up at him with an unreadable emotion. "Y'know, Ah think my first impression of you was right."

"... Oh?" Vincent could only pray that his tone hadn't given away his intense desire to hear Cid's opinion.

"Ah thought to myself, 'Ah bet under all that bristle an' snap, there's a handsome gentleman.' Guess Ah got a surprise that you have some bite to ya!" Cid teased and Vincent chuckled.

"Indeed."

"Your turn, you know, Ah ain't out here spillin' secrets for no reciprocation."

"... Such a big word for you, Captain, I might think you have a degree or two." He teased in return. "Hnn. My first impression of you..."

"Shit! What d'ya mean there's a live person in a coffin?! Of course we're taking him with us, what kinda man needs to stay in this godsawful gothic aesthetic! Like that's even a fuckin' question; that is, if he wants t' come along an' save our Planet."

"Well?" Cid rose a blond brow, the scar wrinkling above it.

"... Kindness offered when it was least expected and a man with a familiar if somewhat unhealthy habit."

"Well, Mr. Healthy—"

"I said it was unhealthy, not that you should quit." Vincent countered.

Cid snapped his goggles back on and squinted up at Vincent with suspicion in his gaze. "You fixin' things other than my scar?"

"It was a general, rather than directed, Cura. What you make of that is yours to keep." He offered.

"Uh-huh. General Cura, my ass." Cid's fingers closed on empty air as the red pack was crushed in Cid's hand. "Ah'm gonna shake Shera down for my cigs-"

"No need," Vincent offered one from the black pack he carried with him. "They belonged to my old partner but they haven't left my inventory in well over thirty years."

Grease-stained fingertips hesitated at the pack's opening. "... You sure?"

"He wouldn't have wanted them to go to waste." He held it out again, Cid's deft touch flipping the black clove cigarette to be lit by Vincent's offered Fira.

Cid's first drag had him blinking. "Your friend had damn good taste; can't find anything like that these days, Vince."

"... I like it."

"Huh?"

"Did you intend to shorten my name?"

"Ah didn't but," Cid paused, glanced at the burning tip of his cigarette.

"somehow it suits." Vincent finished, the ember that settled in his ribcage bringing slow warmth to his soul.

AVALANCHE noticed; the team rarely missed a change within the group.

Barett nudged Cid when Vincent entered a room. Cloud's gaze flicked between Vincent and Cid as they sat at the bar, Cid working through his airship engine problems with wide gestures that fell just short of Vincent's personal space.

He listened, offered his thoughts and Cid grinned as he found the solution. "Thanks for bein' my sounding board, Vince. You're almost as good as my Chocobo buddy."

"... Almost?" He inquirely wryly.

"Hey, she's been with me since my college days! You gotta have more time before you're a professional like her." Cid protested.

"I see."

"Y'know, only way to get more time in is t' help me out."

"Tired of using your jack so my strength will do as well, you mean."

"If the pointy shoe fits, Vince."

Vincent chuckled softly, the mental spike of laughter from the demons a surprise. "It's a sabaton."

"Fancy footwear has a name?! Bullshit."

"... Look it up on Moogle.net if you don't believe me."

Most of AVALANCHE's jaws dropped as Cloud offered, "We've been catching up on the world together."

"It is a Turk's duty to know the ways of the world as they currently stand—"

"You're a what now?!" Cid barked, teeth cutting into the red filter that was pressed between them.

"... Did I not inform you that my former career was a ShinRa bodyguard?" He questioned, watching as most of AVALANCHE shook thier heads no.

"That's..." Cid blew out a smokey breath, carded his hands through his hair and then huffed. "Bahamut's balls, Vince, you're still hoardin' surprises when Ah thought Ah got 'em all."

"... You did say I was a challenge." Vincent murmured.

"Ah did, didn't Ah? Well, you c'n tell me all about it while you're lifting my engine block."

"You would... accept that I was once your enemy?"

"Vince," Cid snorted, "Ah was a part of ShinRa, Cloud was a part of ShinRa— Hels, even Reeve was part of ShinRa once. Ain't nothing doing about being part of the enemy. C'mon engine isn't gonna lift itself, now is it?"

Certain Sectors of Edge still ran hard into ShinRa's iron grip on the criminal underworld. Sometimes, when they'd exhausted their resources in an area, they'd ask AVALANCHE to either rout or support a boss they'd installed.

Cid fit the bill this time but they'd refused to partner him. Vincent followed from above, his silence his saving grace.

The gang shoved at Cid and Galian, dozing until now, growled low. Hellmasker's rumble chased the growl, the sound subsonic but still threatening.

Vincent bared his teeth behind the collar, the longer canines a sign of the demons coming to the fore.

Just this once, he didn't care; he agreed.

No one touched his friends like that.

Cid shoved back, adjusted his goggles and strode into the room like he owned it, the building and everyone around him. Vincent's fangs subsided but the curiosity nearly killed him.

Where had Cid learned to command a room like that?

He listened carefully as Cid tore them apart verbally, pinning the leader of the goons with a gimlet eye as he reached for his cigarettes.

Guns were drawn as Cid pulled out a clove cigarette and lazily held it out.

Not a single soul moved to light it.

"Y'know, Ah get why you're the boss," Cid drawled, "but Ah have something much better. Hey Vince, gimme a light?"

Vincent dropped from the rafters, cast the security trio of Shield, Libra and Barrier Max and offered a Fira while the gang opened fire on the magic.

"... Did you know I was there the whole time?"

"Nah, but Ah had a feelin' you wouldn't let me do ShinRa shit without some backup. Could've sworn I'd heard Galian right after they laid hands on me."

"The demons are fond of blood and battle. You were enough of an excuse," Vincent deflected, watching as the remaining members of the gang stopped firing. "Hnn. Shall we get back to the business of ShinRa's  handoff work?"

"You're no fun, Vince, no fun at all." The way the filter clung to Cid's lip made the ember in his chest ignite.

He ruthlessly smothered it, his expression never changing as he lower the security trio. "It's in the job description, Captain."

"What job?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out." He teased softly, keeping an eye on the room.

"Die!"

Vincent whirled, Cerberus planted under the gangster's chin and lifted off the ground with the barrels buried in the soft artery. "Come again?"

"Ghk! Gurk!"

"Vince, put him down."

"... Did ShinRa say that we had to keep everyone?" He inquired, his tone dipped in silk and steel for all the give it had.

"You're not a Turk anymore," Cid huffed, crossing his arms and raising a brow to the goggle line.

Vincent's lips pressed thin but he slowly lowered the goon, his statement to the man a promise. "Come near the Captain again and I'll make sure your soul is mine to keep."

"D-Demon!" The man breathed out, fingers forming the ward of Ifrit.

"Demons, actually, and they're th' literal sort." Cid corrected absently. "Ah'm being mighty kind when Ah suggest you clear out of the Sector."

They fled, dragging injured companions behind them.

The empty room echoed as Cid blew out a cloud of smoke.

"I-"

"Ah-"

Vincent pulled back and Cid huffed. "Ah'm glad you decided to back me up. You mean that though? Th' fella in question looked like he needed his soul."

"... Rare is the person who would dare to call my demons and I friend. I mean my words, Cid." He replied after a moment as gunsmoke and blood lingered in the carpet.

"Huh." Cid's brow furrowed, he gave the thought a thorough once-over and shrugged. "Don't know about you but ShinRa bullshit makes me hungry. You ever been to the stall they have in Sector 4?"

"The one with the-"

"Midgar Zolom meat?" Cid finished with a grin.

"... I might know the owner."

"Well shit, if you know where it is, you lead the way."

They bickered the entire way there, debating the merits of plains monster meat versus city monster meat and what to do with it.

Vincent found himself disappointed when the stall came into view, signaling that his time with Cid had come to an end.

His phone, bought after the battle with Bahamut SIN, was a highly guarded treasure and its number given to select members of AVALANCHE.

Most of his call log consisted of Cid, carefully labeled Captain Highwind, followed by Cloud and Tifa.

He stared at the blinking cursor as he slowly backspaced and then wrote out Cid instead. Galian whined, and without his permission, the beast typed in—

Hellmasker took over and typed, beloved.

Death Gigas wrote something filthy that Vincent immediately deleted.

Chaos shared with him, carefully typing out,

*.

The phrase his Kaa-San had sung him to sleep with years ago but suited Cid perfectly without-

Oh.

I was wondering when you'd notice, Host. Chaos murmured sympathetically as Vincent's hand crushed the leather over his heart.

"No." He shuddered as the feelings overwhelmed him, a tear sliding down his face as he stood on the balcony of the Shera airship.

Yes! Chaos countered sharply, Your heart is consumed by the man, the breadth of such a bright soul the antithesis to your perception. Your outlook has changed because of him, slow as it might have been, your actions given to affection.

"I cannot-" Vincent pleaded, his words caught in his chest like butterflies forbidden to take flight, trembling with the desperate desire to flee.

You must, Host.

The universe had a wretched sense of humor, Vincent decided as he helped Cid with the Shera's engines.

Cid had taken to humming when Vincent was around but this particular song... This was the last straw, really.

"Vince, what's with th' face?" Cid asked as he tucked the clove cigarette behind his ear. He'd been about to light it, had even cupped his hands to keep the wind low.

"I find myself reminded that coincidences do not exist."

"Shit. Is it my humming? Or the song?"

"... The song; my Kaa-San used to sing it before bed when I was a child. It reminds me of a... sin I've yet to commit."

"Vince, you aren't making much sense here."

"Love, Captain."

Cid's shoulders pulled back at that. "Love's no sin."

"This one is, Cid."

Blue eyes searched his expression and he prodded, "Ah know 'em?" Vincent paused at that. "Vince, now ain't the time for your three layers of bullshit. C'mon now."

"You know him well enough, I suppose," he admitted with a soft sigh. "Blond hair, blue eyes," Vincent chuckled as Cid's brows furrowed.

"Fucking Cloud?!" Vincent wondered if  he'd mistaken indignation for hurt.

"If you'll allow me to continue, Captain?" Cid's rude gesture made him offer the next words wryly, "He knows his way around tools, could swear a blue streak longer than the given hours of a day, has this scar on his forehead that he didn't get checked for well over a decade-"

"Me?" Cid's wrench fell out of his hand. Vincent rescued the tool before it hit Cid's boots, setting the wrench down on the work bench.

He flexed his hands, his heart half-lodged in his throat.

Chaos took advantage to his hesitance and murmured, "... Would you like to fly?"

"Vincent, this ain't-Oh. Chaos?"

"Hnn. The inquiry has a time-limit."

"Now hold on a godsdamned minute, you gotta let me think!" Cid growled as he poked a finger at Chaos's shared chest. "Demandin' demon when you wanna be, aren't you, ya little-"

"Primordial force."

"Huh?"

"We're technically a demi-WEAPON and a primordial force of corrupted LifeStream." Chaos offered after Vincent agreed to have the information released to Cid and Cid alone.

"Gimme. A. Minute." Cid stated slowly. "C'n you do that?"

Chaos stepped back only for Cid's fingers to grasp his wrist. He waited, gently moving Cid's fingers from his wrist to carefully lace them with his claws. Thier patience was rewarded after the shadows on the engine touched the corrugated metal of Cid's home in Rocket Town.

"You love me like Vince does?" Cid inquired even as his calloused thumb ran over the back of Chaos' golden gauntlet.

"It is our privilege to pledge our heart to you." he whispered as the sensation lulled the more feral demons into a restful state.

"Not what Ah asked and you know it."

Chaos knelt at Cid's feet, fingers still laced. "Then let me answer; of all the humans I have met in my lifetime, you are the only one that has ignited my soul. I will grieve until world's end if you truly pass into the Lifestream."

Their pilot looked stunned and then he choked out a single "Oh," in understanding.

Vincent took over his body again and stood, hand still wrapped around Cid's. "Did but Icarus seek the sun and fall for it, his death a grace granted to no other?"

"Sun should've caught him then, even if it burned. Always better than drowning, Ah figured." Cid murmured in reply before— "...was Chaos serious about that flight?"

"You may take him at his word."

Vincent spun the black cigarette that marked  a combination of his old life and his new, smiling faintly behind his collar as it was plucked from his grip by familiar gloved hands.

"So, now what, Icarus? What are you gonna do now that th' sun's gone and caught ya?" Cid drawled out as his lip held onto the paper of the cigarette out of sheer stubborn will, much like Cid's own personality.

"... Fly, I suppose, with singed feathers graced by a God. Care to join us?" Vincent inquired as he held out his gauntlet at the edge of the balcony.

"Err, Vince, you're kinda close to the edge, Ah don't think—Vince!" Cid lunged as Vincent fell, feral joy clear on Cid's face as he fell without a line to keep himself attached to the Shera above them.

Vincent reached for his beloved Sun, swinging Cid after thier arms clasped so that his beloved was beneath him. He swept Cid up mid-air as he shifted to Chaos, privately delighting in the whoop Cid let loose into the endless sky.

Here was the Sun in his arms, ephemeral yet whole, a contradiction of a man who blazed as bright as the star he claimed so well.

"What's up in that noggin, Icarus?" Cid prodded.

"Merely that the sun is a concept and that you outshine it." He murmured absently, wings making minute adjustments to the currents in the air.

"Y'know, you keep sweet talking me like that and Ah'm gonna do something that might make both of us fall." came the reply.

"Oh?" Vincent purred, "Shall I set us down or do you want to attempt it here?" Cid's blush covered most of his face and then Vincent chuckled. "I wonder how far down that goes-"

"Vince!" Cid spluttered, adjusted his goggles and then huffed, "Am Ah lucky that you didn't seduce her like that?"

"Seduction, my Sun? No, no, this is merely the first step of many in my pursuit of you."

"Wanna clarify that for me?"

"Yes, we've agreed to date and yes, that we love one another but I intend to woo you every day we are together until the day we are not." He answered, his heart in his throat.

"What'd Ah tell you about sweet talkin' me?" Cid growled, tugged Vincent's face down for a kiss.

It was as though Vincent had been parched for love and was now drowning in it.

He clutched Cid closer, cradled the back of his head and buried his fingers into the thick, soft hair as he pressed back with the love he'd been holding close for so long.

Cid gasped as he parted from Vincent with swollen lips and a scorching look of promise that made Vincent quiver in anticipation. "Fuck me, you didn't tell me you could kiss like that! Ah'm registerin' a complaint, godsdammit..."

Vincent's breath hitched as Cid's calloused fingertips caressed his face, his thumb tracing under Vincent's lower lip.

"Would you like to file it now or later?" He breathed out.

"Now-"

Vincent kissed his beloved until his wings ached from the strain of holding them both up.

He staggered as he landed, his wings unable and unwilling to fold.

"C'mere, let me help." Cid gently rubbed them and coaxed them gently back into place along his spine. "Want me ice them or d'you want hot?"

"Hot."

"Let's get you settled then," Cid murmured as he fussed over Vincent, the trail of smoke the only indication that they'd retreated to the captain's cabin for the night.

Cid looked down at the vision in his lap, silken black strands and crimson cloak a study in contradiction against the blue covers of his bed.

He brushed some of the stray strands out of Vincent's face and took in the peace that radiated from his gunslinger in sleep.

Vincent was so rarely unguarded, trusting Cid to protect him while he rested from the unintentional exertion of flying.

The Icarus to his sun, only he'd caught the falling flyer and had been blessed beyond what could be bestowed by a thousand other gods.

The tug of his lips pulling up tilted the unlit cigarette into his vision; Cid pulled it off of his lip with a thoughtful look.

He'd never smoked a clove cigarette before he'd been given Vincent's accidental stash of them but now he couldn't imagine smoking anything else.

He'd never been one to believe in coincidences or fate but a symbol was a symbol nonetheless.

Sleek black combined with a thin line of gold and the filter, funnily enough, was red.

Cid didn't think Vincent realized it, that he'd been giving pieces of himself—his past—to Cid long before they'd gotten around to confessing thier love.

Soft muzzy crimson slowly fluttered open and then Cid was lost in the burning gaze.

Icarus he may have called himself but Cid swore up and down that he was the loving sun, burning silent, burning for so long that when it finally was noticed, the explosion was incandescent in its glory.

"Hey Vince?" He asked, "you ever think it's the other way 'round? That Ah'm Icarus and you're the God?"

The warm gaze crinkled at the corners, "We cannot be both, my Sun."

"Oh? Says who, Icarus?"

"The legends," came the reply, "... everyone else."

"Fuck everyone else." Cid announced. "Ain't nobody but us in this relationship anyways."

"Hnn." Vincent shuffled until he propped himself up onto his elbows. "My Icarus then, just between the two of us."

"Think Ah prefer th' Sun." he laughed.

"You are my sunshine, my only-"

"Oh don't you start-"

Muffled laughter floated up from the bed as Vincent continued to hum the song, his thumbs gently swiping over Cid's cheekbones.

He relished in the touch, smiling as they crushed the cigarette by accident and the scent of cloves, tobacco and gun oil lingered in the air.

Here was home, marked in the colors of something he'd almost missed out on.

What a difference a cigarette made, marked by the wings of Icarus and burned by the sun.