Title: Rude
Author: Enide Dear
Pairing: Valenwind
Rating: Cid’s mouth and then some
Summary: Has, despite the title, nothing to do with Turks



”Anyway, I think we ought ta…”

Cid trailed off and Avalanche turned as one to stare as Vincent Valentine rather pointedly turned his chair aside, facing away from the talking pilot. The gunman was clicking his claws against the table in a quick staccato and humming under his breath, obviously paying no attention to Cid’s opinion.

“Don’t mind me,” the ex-Turk mumbled behind his high collar.

The rest of Avalanche held its breath as their newest, and rather volatile, addition stared at gunman, but breathed out at Cid tore his angry look away from being so rudely ignored.

“Right,” Cid swallowed his anger with some difficulties, “as I was sayin’, I think we should jest bypass the entire fuckin’ village and head straight fer the Northern Crater…”

The tapping and humming increased in intensity.


The next discussion got even worse. After hearing everyone out and adding a few, spares comments himself, Vincent abruptly rose and walked stiffly out of the Highwind’s main room when Cid started to speak. Flushed with anger Cid rose to follow but Tifa grabbed his arm, holding him back.

“Leave him be, Cid. He’s…difficult.”

“He hates my guts, ya mean?!” Cid growled, shaking himself free. “The man can’t stand ta be alone in a room with me fer five minutes, he can’t fuckin’ listen ta what I have ta say – it’s like I ain’t worth shit ta him!”

“I admit that Vincent has been treating you kind of bad,” Tifa tried to sooth him, “but you are just so different. Maybe you should just leave him be…”

“Look, sweetheart, I ain’t changing my ways fer anyone! If he thinks I’m such a lowlife jest cause I’m not all sophisticated and shit like he is, jest because I ain’tshowering five times a day and have nude calenders on the wall then he can bloody walk the rest of the way, ‘cause this is *my* ship!”

“Yes, about those calenders…” Cloud cleared his throat.

“What about them? Except that they make Mr. Tactful out there blush like a school boy?”

“…there’s nude men on them.” Cloud actually blushed. Cid stared.

“Oh really?” He said with the extra care you use when talking to someone seriously demented. “So that’s why there were no boobs on ‘em. I’ve been wonderin’.”

“You are gay?!” Cloud spluttered.

Cid shook his head and whispered to Tifa.

“The kid ain’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?”

“With a body like that, he doesn’t have to be.” She sighed wistfully, slightly disturbed when Cid nodded thoughtfully.


Trying his best to leave Vincent alone wasn’t as easy as Cid had hoped; even though the Highwind was a big ship there were not many spaces on it not occupied by cargo, weapons or machines. The living quarters where small and cramped and it was inevitable that they bump into one another.  And each time Vincent hid his face in the collar, mumbled something half-polite, and hurried away. Each rude encounter gnawed more and more on the pilot’s temper, even though he tried to rein himself in.

It was late at night when the final straw came. Sleepy-eyed and rather grumpy, Cid made his way towards the little kitchenette; he had the wheel in less than an hour and if he was going to steer the Highwind safely through the night, then he needed a Gods-damned cup of tea. And lots of sugar.

It was impossible to say who got most surprised; Vincent who was busy hungrily eating a sandwich or Cid, who almost stumbled over him in the dark.

“What the Hell?” Fumbling for the lightswitch, Cid blocked the way out from the kitchenette and in the sudden light Vincent looked like a cornered rabbit, his eyes huge, the sandwich slipping through his hands to land at the floor.

“Excuse me, I have to…” he tried to rush past Cid, but was stopped by a strong tanned arm blocking the way.

“No.” Cid’s patience ran out. “What the hell is goin’ on here? Ya sneak out at night ta eat instead of eatin’ with the rest of us at supper?”

“Captain, please…”Vincent’s face was getting redder as he tried to dodge pass Cid, to no avail.

“Ya disdain me that bad? That ya can’t even sit down ta have dinner with such a slob? Well, let me tell ya, yer manners leave somethin’ ta be wished fer as well!”

“No, please, you don’t understand…” But Cid wasn’t listening. All the anger came rushing out, entwined with loss.

“Is it because I’m gay? Well, I can’t help that, but if ya think I’m jest gonna rape yer pretty ass then yer the one with issues, ya know.” He shook his head. “It’s not that I would mind a tumble with ya, but seein’ as how ya detest me…”

“Shut! Up!” Vincent slapped his hands over his ears, his face blushing red and he was standing kind of funny, hunched over as if he was hiding something. The look in his eyes was one of horrible embarrassment. “Just please, be quiet!”

“What the Hell is wrong with ya?” Cid frowned, closing in on the retreating gunman. “Ya can’t even hear me out?”

“No!” Vincent was trapped now, between the kitchen counter and the pilot who somehow managed to loom over him despite being shorter.

“And why the Hell not?”

Vincent’s face looked like it would explode from blushing.

“I’m afraid you’ve got me all wrong, captain. All…wrong. Could we…could we *please* talk about this in the morning?”

“We can blood well talk about it now! What is yer problem with me?” Cid frowned. Something here was off. “Ya owe me an explanation.”

“I, um,” Vincent couldn’t meet his eyes. “I, ah, have a fetish.”

“’Scuse me?”

“That’s the problem!” Vincent wailed distraught. “I have a fetish for dialects! And, and…dirty talking. And every time you speak…”

Cid dropped his jaw, but a faint, wicked giggling started to build up inside him. Along with a warm fuzzy feeling.

“Ya mean…those times ya ran out of the debates…ya made a bee line fer the bathroom ta take care of business?”

Vincent’s blush was answer enough. He was still not meeting Cid’s eyes but as the pilot looked down he saw evidence enough that he was getting to the gunman. Grabbing his wrists, he held Vincent’s arm over his head. The ex-Turk yelped with surprise but was too caught up in his fetish to make any resistance. When Cid used his free hand to lean his chin up, his red eyes were simmering with lust.

“And when ya met me in the corridors…ya had ta restrain yerself ta keep from jumpin’ my bones?” Cid mumbled, his face now very close to Vincent’s, the stubble jaw rasping against the guman’s cheek, his breath hot in his ear.

“So what if I say I’d wanna smear honey on yer skinny body and lick it all off?” A boneless whimpering was all the answer Cid got but that was encouragement enough as he kissed his way down Vincent’s jaw.

“And if I say I wanna make ya howl like a cat in Mars?”

“Please…” Vincent moaned, thrashing in the grip, his face hot, his body hotter.

“….and fuck ya sensless on the kitchen table?”

Vincent buckled one last time, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He hung breathlessly in Cid’s grip for a few minutes, trying to get his mind to keep from blacking out. Cid let him go as he managed to get his weight back on his feet. His pants were already getting cold and sticky and he felt more embarrassed than he’d done in his life.

“There’s a shower down the hall,” Cid said kindly. “Ya might wanna use that.”

“Thank you,” Vincent mumbled, not knowing where to look and hurrying away.

“Hey Vince,” Cid shouted after him. Vincent stopped and turned around. “I have a fetish to, ya know.”

When Vincent didn’t ask, Cid grinned.

“Tall, elusive gunmen. Same time and place tamorrow night?”