Wedding Goals

Title: Wedding Goals

Author: Enide Dear

Pairing: Valenwind

Rating: lots of creepy crawlers and quite a few Turks



Summary: Cid needs a best man for his wedding to Shera.





”I don’t care. You need a best man for our wedding. So fix one!” With  slam of the door, Shera left Cid behind to scratch his head. Well, she had fixed pretty much everything else for this wedding while he had been dragging his feet, so maybe he just needed to get his ass in gear and fix himself a best man. Sighing he sipped his tea and thought of his options. He had a few crew members, but they weren’t exactly friends, as such. You couldn’t be friends with your crew if you were a captain, that was just begging for trouble. And there were a few drinking buddies over in Rocket Town, but they were more acquaintances. So that left the band of misfits called Avalanche, which were, truth to be told, his best friends. Hell, they probably knew him better than Shera did!



He started off easy and called Reeve. The man had to be in possession of a tux, at least.



“I’m sorry Cid. I would love to and I am truly honored but I’m terrible at weddings.” Reeve said apologizing from somewhere in the WRO building. “I break down and cry in minutes. I could use Cait if you want.”



“Nah thanks, buddy. This whole wedding thing is ridiculous enough without there being dolls involved. Ya got the invitation though, right?”  Cid frowned.



“Yes, of course. I’ll be there.” He could almost hear Reeve’s voice getting moist. “With a huge box of tissues.”



Gods damned sop, Cid thought to himself as he said goodbye, how the hell did he manage to run the WRO anyway? All Rufus had to do was show up in a wedding dress to a corporate meeting and Reeve would probably start bawling and give him the whole world as a wedding gift. Then again, seeing Rufus ShinRa in a dress (and you could just bet it would be white) could probably make anyone burst into tears.



So the next call was for Cloud.



“Your best man, Cid?” even over the cracked static connection to whatever waste land Cloud was currently in, Cid could hear the World Hero’s voice rising an octave for every word. “Standing alone in front of everyone?! All those eyes watching me?”



Cid quickly hung up before the kid started hyperventilating, after a muttered assurance that he’s find someone else. The kid would face Sephiroth without batting an eye but come to a public situation and he’d rather be in a coffin.



Coffin….but no, he wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.



Cid called up Barret. The man had been last on his list due to being almost as reluctant to wearing a tux as Cid was, but hell, if Cid wasn’t getting away from it then neither was Barret.



“I can’t, Highwind.” Barret  grumbled in the other end of the line. “Someone has to look after Marlene and Denzel. They’ve taken to running away from everything they think is boring, and no offence, but once she’s seen the bride’s dress Marlene ain’t gonna find the whole thing too amusing.”



“Yeah sure. I get it.” Cid swore under his breath. After Barret he had only two options and one of them was a dog. He had no doubt that Nanaki would find the whole thing very interesting, as fascinated as he was with human culture. And he had absolutely no doubt that Shera would not appreciate having a lion-dog-thing waiting by the altar.



So that left….cursing himself for a coward, Cid stared at the phone. Sure Vincent probably would wear a tux without protesting – hell, the man probably owed one himself, even if he had to shake the cobwebs and spiders out of it first. And he didn’t cry, or faint over attention, or had kids needing to look after. And he looked human enough. And yet the man bothered Cid. Sure he’d invited him to the wedding, of course, and been surprised as the undead man was the first to accept. Probably he didn’t get much mail over at that creepy mansion of his. But he wasn’t exactly the life of the party. He was a tall, sombre man who just *bothered* Cid. A lot. And he wasn’t even sure why.



He took a deep breath and called the damn vampire, having quite a lot of confidence that the call would go unanswered.



Instead Vincent picked up after just two signals.



“Niebelheim mansion, this is Vincent Valentine speaking.” Came the dark and old fashioned answer.



“Vincent, hi.” Feeling extremely awkward, Cid tried to continue. “Um, this is Cid. Cid Highwind, yeah? Ya remember me, right?” Gods, he sounded like a tweenie calling his crush, what the Hell was this?!



A small pause in the other end of the phone was followed by a solemn answer.



“Yes. I remember you, chief.”



“Good. Good. That’s great. Um, ya know I’m getting married, right? I mean ya answered ta say ya could come.”



A new pause and a new solemn answer.



“Yes. I remember the occasion and I will be participating in the event. I have already chased the bats out of my tux.”



Cid snorted a laughter but continued.



“Good. Look, I really get it if ya don’t wanna do it, but I need someone ta be my best man.” There was a profound silence in the other end of the line and Cid couldn’t help but babble on. “And, well….I know ya don’t like people much but….”



“I will do it.” The quick answer interrupted his ramblings and Cid felt a strange kind of dizzy spell come over him.



“Eeeeh, ya will?”



“Yes. I am flattered that you thought of me chief. Thank you. I will now go and assure that no centipedes has taken  refuge in my tux pocket.” And he hung up.







The wedding was huge and tastefully decorated; Shera had been in charge of all of that and Cid had been in charge of showing up, sober, and with no grease stains on his clothes or person. He had been partially successful at least, he thought to himself as he waved a hand at everyone as they took their seats in church – there were even some Turks -  and then yelped as a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned around so swiftly his cig almost lit Vincent’s ancient tux on fire.



“Are you alright, chief?” Vincent asked with a tiny frown. “You look…skittish.”



“Yeah, well,” Cid tried to light a cig, just to remember he already had a lit one in his mouth. “The groom is supposed ta be nervous before a wedding, right?”



“Nervous, yes. Not frightened. You looked braver facing off against Sephiroth last year.” Red eyes blinked slowly.



“At least old Sephy didn’t want a lifelong commitment, ya know. Not ta me at least.” He tried to quip, but must have said something wrong because the damn ex-Turk nodded slowly as if everything in Cid’s life was now completely sorted out – which wasn’t fair, because as far as the pilot was concerned it just seemed more confused than ever. “Good thing I’m just about drenched in this damn aftershave and deo and crap ‘cause otherwise I’d be sweating like a pig.” Cid muttered just to change the subject. He realized that Vincent still had his hand on his shoulder and wondered if he really seemed that nervous. Vincent wasn’t known to be this…comforting.



“Yes,” Vincent mumbled and leaned forward, towering over the smaller captain. “I can smell that. It smells…nice, chief.” And the gods-damned weirdo *smelled* him!



Before Cid had time to stutter a protest or at least a reaction, Vincent whirled away and stepped out on his designated place next to the altar.





Cid couldn’t help himself. The wedding bells were tolling and all, and everyone was waiting for the bride to show up, and he was standing next to the altar – next to *Vincent* - and he couldn’t stop casting glances at the man. Vincent stood very still, his eyes darting everywhere and his hands held loosely in front of him. He looked like a bloody bodyguard – a Turk! – and no matter how deeply inappropriate that was, it still made Cid feel very safe. Although he wasn’t sure from what. He vaguely wondered if this was how Rufus Shinra felt all the time and almost grinned to himself. In his white captains uniform and with his blonde hair and all, he might just be an older version of that bastard.



Gods, he wished he had a cigarette right about now.



Flower petals started to rain down as Shera walked up the isle, looking very beautiful in her white dress, very beautiful and very *wrong* Cid thought to himself as he shifted uncomfortably. He loved her, of course he did. She was bright and intelligent and cute and brave and could make one hell of a cup of tea. She was his best friend, no doubt about that. And yet. And yet.



She smiled as she walked up to him, looking almost as nervous as he felt, and took his hand. The turned to the priest and Cid’s mind was too busy buzzing around frantically to hear what the man was saying until the ‘…let him speak now or forever hold his peace.’



“I object.” A dark voice said.



Cid felt his belly drop and something akin to a fainting spell rush over him as the church filled with a murmur of surprised voices and all eyes went from the bride and groom to the rather mangy best man standing next to them. A hitherto overlooked spider took this chance to escape from Vincent’s breastpocket and slide down the front of his suit.



Gods fucking damn it! Cid had known, he’d just fucking *known* that the damn vampire would make a scene somehow! Vincent was too damn socially lost to know what was appropriate or not and when! So it fell to Cid to do the appropriate thing which right now seemed to be roaring out a confused:



“Vince, what the fucking Hell are ya doin’?!” In the middle of a packed church, making a few old ladies and almost Reeve faint. At the very last pews, Reno woke up with a startled snort and started looking around as if he expected an Angeal clone to have come crushing through the stained glass windows.



“This man cannot in good conscience marry this woman.” Vincent pointed a golden, razor sharp claw at Cid. The spider hanging from a thread at the tip only took some of the gravity off the situation.



“Why the hell not?!” Shera shouted, equally confused, and made a few more ladies faint and Reeve dab his forehead with a handkerchief. The Turks at the end of the church seemed to think this was a bloody good show. Rude was handing around a bucket of popcorns.



“For two reasons.” Vincent solemnly held up his claws, commanding the attention of the whole riveted church. “One, he is gay. And two, he is helplessly in love with me.”



Absolute silence fell, a silence during which Cid felt the temperature of his face rise to approximately that of Ifirt. His jaw fell open but no words came out as a huge voide inside of him seemed to open up and his only thought was ‘please, please Sephiroth crash that Meteor now!’



He turned to Shera – to dispute Vincent’s words, to comfort her, he didn’t even know – and she took one look at his eyes and then punched him in the face, still holding the wedding bouquet, so he went down in a shower of rose petals. From somewhere far away, Cid could hear the sound of Elena’s cellphone filming the whole damn spectacle. He didn’t doubt the damn thing would go viral by tomorrow.



Shera stormed out, followed by friends and relatives to comfort her and Cid was left lying on the dais, half buried in roses and with a growing throb in this nose where the punch had hit. His whole world was turned upside down, both figurate and literally.



A spider came into view. It lowered itself onto his chest and then a golden claw appeared. Cid grabbed it and was pulled up, shedding roses and a very  distraught spider.



“Are you alright, chief?” Vincent asked as he got Cid back on his wobbly feet.



“I…”Cid didn’t know what to say, or do. “Ya ruined my wedding.” Was all he managed to get out.



“I ruined *a* wedding,” Vincent said with infinite patience. “There is still time for another. After all, everyone is here, we’re dressed up and I think the last critters have finally evicted my clothes.”



Cid started laughing. It seemed the only appropriate response to all this madness and also the terribly light feeling in his soul, a feeling that was dangerously close to ….happiness.



“Are ya proposing ta me, Vincent Valentine?” His voice was quavering all over the place.



Vincent smiled. With old-fashioned curtesy he went down on one knee and took Cid’s hand.



“Will you marry me, Cid Highwind?”



This wasn’t a day for thinking, obviously. Cid fiddled with the ring in his palm, the one he’d kept there for Shera. It barely fitted Vincent’s claw more than an inch in, but there it was, shining white gold on his brass.



“Sure I will.” He said hoarsely.



In the following cheer, ceremony and wedding kiss that followed, no one, not even the Turks, had the heart to tell Vincent about the parade of two centipedes, an earwig and three moths that escaped his suit pockets.