So here's the first piece I was able to salvage from my old computer, and there ought to be more on the way. Sorry it's taken so long, folks!
The next time Vincent woke, Sephiroth was settled in the worn-out old armchair Vincent kept in the corner, flipping through one of Vincent's books on gun care. He looked oddly at home, which Vincent didn't find as bothersome as he felt he ought to.
Vincent groggily assessed his condition. He was back to feeling cold, and he could feel sweat dried on his skin. He'd be nauseous if there was anything his stomach could complain about, his throat hurt, and his head ached horribly.
Sephiroth looked up from the book, saw that Vincent was watching him, and got up.
"Feeling any better?" he asked softly, coming over to feel Vincent's forehead.
"Define 'better'," Vincent grunted.
"At least functional."
"All systems are running," he sighed. "Aside from that, no, I don't feel better."
"You aren't vomiting."
"I don't have anything to bring up, and I'm just lucky I don't have dry heaves like I did last night."
Sephiroth winced.
"Do you need anything?"
Vincent considered this. He could, of course, use the question as a way to get Sephiroth to leave, but that felt rude after the way Sephiroth had been treating him since the night before.
"A cuddle buddy. And a detailed recount of what happened when you went downstairs to talk to Tifa."
Sephiroth snorted but left the chair, putting the book down in the seat, and climbed onto the end of the bed. He looked Vincent over for a moment, then crawled slowly up to him. In almost any other situation Vincent would have pounced on him and done things that you don't mention in polite company to him, but he was too miserable to do more than absently appreciate the view. Sephiroth settled on his side beside Vincent.
"Very little happened," he murmured.
"I doubt that." Vincent lay back down and pressed against Sephiroth's chest. He was warm and comfortingly solid, even more so when he put an arm over Vincent's waist and pulled him closer.
"Why would you doubt that?"
"Nothing is ever little with you."
"She invited me to have a cup of tea with her. I had no choice but to accept. Then she quizzed me on everything I ought to know about you and everything I could possibly tell her about our relationship- I had to get creative with that. Then she just started chattering, and I used the excuse that I wanted to keep an eye on you to get away."
"What did you tell her about…us?"
Sephiroth shrugged, something Vincent felt rather than saw. "I told her that we're into some of the darker scenes, which she had the sense not to ask about, but she did as if we had a safeword. I said yes."
Vincent groaned.
"She's going to think I'm into…bondage or something," he complained bitterly. "My reputation is going to take a serious hit for that."
"But you are into it."
"Since when?"
"You seemed to like it when I used your belt to restrain you at the church."
"I did not!"
"I think you did."
Vincent jerked his elbow back into Sephiroth's belly and was rewarded with a soft grunt of surprise in his ear.
"That isn't fair. I can't do anything to you."
"That's the idea."
Sephiroth heaved a frustrated sigh and pressed his face into the curve of Vincent's neck.
"When you've recovered, we're going out."
"Yes, you mentioned that."
"As soon as you're better."
"Mmmhm."
"I mean it."
"I know."
Vincent was just starting to drift off when Tifa knocked on the door. He jumped, and Sephiroth's hold on him tightened just a little.
"Come in," Vincent called.
Tifa was carrying a small tray when she entered, one of the ones she used to ferry drinks around the bar on busy nights. She gave Sephiroth a pleased look as she set it on the nightstand.
"I thought you could use something to eat."
Vincent groaned. Just the thought made his stomach hurt.
"I'm sure you don't want to, but you haven't eaten since dinner last night, and you hardly ate anything then. You need to keep something down."
"I see two bowls of soup," Sephiroth murmured, sitting up to examine the tray.
"One of them is for you."
"That's very kind, but-"
"You've been here all morning. You've got to be getting hungry."
"Yes, but-"
"No buts. I take care of the people in my house."
"Thank you, but-"
"And I brought up something for your fever, Vincent, and some crackers. Marlene sent this-" Tifa held up a stuffed moogle in an eye-smarting shade of purple. "-and says that it will help. This should help settle your stomach, if it starts acting up again, and there's ginger ale here too. Flat for you, normal for Seth."
"You're too kind," Sephiroth muttered.
Tifa kissed Sephiroth's cheek- missing his little shudder by pure luck- and leaned over him to give Vincent a quick little peck on the forehead.
"You should take the fever reducer," she commented, straightening.
"I know," Vincent admitted. "But I don't want to."
"Do it."
She was gone as quickly as she had arrived.
"How do you stand living with her?" Sephiroth hissed, picking up the nearest bowl. "Look at this. It's got garlic in it." He sniffled. "A lot of garlic. How do you propose I get rid of it without her finding out, hmm? Or would you rather that I eat it and wind up sick again?"
"I don't care what you do with it," Vincent grumbled. "Just don't whine about it."
"I'm not whining. I'm complaining. Children whine."
"You are a child," Vincent grouched. He sat up slowly and looked at the tray. "Hand me the stomach stuff and the moogle.
"You want the moogle?"
"You may not have noticed, but you're a mass of bone and fairly hard muscle. You don't make a good pillow, and I can't drag a full-sized pillow over and still be comfortable with you holding me. Just give them to me."
Sephiroth obediently handed over the toy and the bottle, then leaned back on his elbows and watched Vincent toss back a capful of the medicine. Vincent choked on it, but swallowed hard a couple of times and pulled a face.
"It tasted bad before I was killed and reanimated with enhanced senses. Ugh."
"You can remember that?"
"Of course I can."
"I'd thought much of what you had known would have been lost to brain damage after your death."
"It should have been. I don't understand much of what was done to me, but I think I was at that point in death where there is still electricity in the brain, thus preserving my memories and abilities until I was resuscitated and the experimentation began."
Sephiroth shuddered.
"I'm…I'm sorry."
Vincent gave him a surprised look.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I know what it was like to suffer under his scalpel. I had…I had thought that I endured more horrible things than anyone else, at least where he was concerned. Knowing you has taught me that I didn't have to survive anything close to the worst he had to offer."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Vincent said gently. "The things he did to me have, over time, brought me good fortune. What he did to you ended in your untimely death."
"Good fortune?"
Vincent nodded, capping the medicine and handing it to Sephiroth to be put back on the nightstand. He toyed with the moogle in his lap.
"I have come to terms with your mother's death. I have gained a friend and ally in Chaos, greater friends than I ever knew before in Cloud and the others…I will live for as long as Chaos and I remain as one, allowing me to be guardian and protector to those I hold dear, and their children. I can go where I want, when I want, and I can see the places I never saw before. Wouldn't you call that good fortune?"
"But-"
"Have you ever heard the saying 'every cloud has a silver lining'?"
"The only Cloud I've ever seen the lining of just bled red. No silver lining," Sephiroth said, only being half serious.
"You know what I mean," Vincent grumbled. "Hand me the soup. I have to try it."
"Why?"
"Because Tifa went to the trouble of making it and bringing it up here for me, and that deserves at least an attempt."
Sephiroth sighed gustily and handed a bowl to Vincent. He put his own bowl in his lap and glared at it. Vicnent ignored him and focused on his own soup.
The day passed in Sephiroth's arms. The soup didn't stay down for long, but another try late that afternoon did. Vincent's fever faded slowly. By nightfall, it had gone completely.
Sephiroth was gone when Vincent woke up, but there was a note on the nightstand.
Two days from now, I expect you to fulfill your promise and spend the day with me. I'll come pick you up in the morning, as Seth. Be ready by nine.
Vincent sighed and folded the note, tucking it under his pillow to be disposed of later.
Two days later, Vincent spent far too much time primping in front of the mirror after his shower. He caught himself halfway through his third inspection of his hair and stopped, staring at his reflection, hands planted on his hips.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he asked himself.
I'd say you're getting ready for a hot date.
Vincent jumped. Chaos had been quiet for the past two days, and his sudden comment was unexpected.
"It's not a date, Chaos, and you know it. It's just…a necessary part of keeping Sephiroth from doing anything stupid."
Since when does keeping him from doing stupid things require parting your hair twice, changing the style, braiding it, taking the braid out, putting it up in a tail, and ultimately leaving it down in the same style you had twenty minutes ago?
"I'm keeping him happy. It's very clear that he's trying to take me out on a date, so if I act appropriately and put a little thought into how I look, then he'll think that he did well and that's one more hissy fit I won't have to deal with."
I think you just want to make sure you're looking your best.
"Am I not allowed to look good?"
There's good, and then there's 'look at me, I made myself pretty so you would fuck me again', and that's what you're doing.
"I don't need your opinion, thank you."
"Vincent!" Tifa called from somewhere downstairs. "Seth is here for you!"
I don't liiiiiike this.
"You don't have to." He checked his reflection one last time, then turned away from the mirror and hurried downstairs.