excerpt from soulflare, the second cid/vincent fic i’m writing for nanowrimo 2013.
Vincent slipped inside so quietly that Cid barely even heard the door open and shut. It was ridiculous how a guy wearing so much metal could be so silent. Red eyes studied him over the cowl, but they were anything but impassive. He swore he could feel concern leaking off Vincent’s aura from clear across the room. Eventually Vincent’s gaze settled on Cid’s still-packed bag. “Productive.”
"Yep." Cid wasn’t really in the mood to play word games. At least Vincent hadn’t asked if he was all right. Course, Vincent was usually smarter than to ask goddamn stupid questions like that.
Vincent hummed under his breath and poked his claw into the bag. Cid wasn’t sure what the hell he was fishing for, or why he was rummaging around in his bag to begin with, but he didn’t do anything but watch quizzically until his talons emerged with a lighter between them.
Cid frowned and patted his pocket. Then his other pocket. Then his other pocket. Vincent tossed the lighter and Cid caught it out of the air. “How’d you fuckin’ know?” Cid demanded.
"You don’t keep a lighter in that jacket."
Cid huffed and reached out to pull a cigarette out of the ever-present pack in his goggles. “You’re fuckin’ scary, Valentine, anyone ever tell you that?”
Vincent shrugged. “It’s come up.”
The gunman took up a familiar position against the opposite wall as Cid lit up. The familiar act of pulling out a cigarette, tucking it between his lips, flicking the lighter, all of it made him feel better immediately. Fucking Vincent. He’d spent way too much time with him.
Vincent didn’t say anything. Not that Cid expected him to. Or wanted him to, for that matter. Course, Cid wasn’t sure what he wanted right now, aside from the familiar burn of nicotine in his lungs. Planet, did that feel good right now. He took another drag.