Author's Note: I don't even know. Although I do love Chaos; he makes me go to my happy place.

Disclaimer: Do not own. Never have, never will.

Cid had a mind of metal and gears, of statistics and numbers. Vincent had a mind of darkness and pain, of stitches and suffering. Cid loved to fly; Vincent would love to tear out his wings. Cid had given up his dream; Vincent had lived a nightmare.

They were a never-ending paradox; a shifting, changing, constant swirl of opposition and confrontation. They butted heads over everything and they never ceased to annoy the other. Cid would curse; Vincent would glare. Threats were occasionally issued, though never carried out – someone always stepped in, but there were times when they would have, icould have/i killed each other. Only a clear conscience, and the occasional step-in from one of the others, kept them from giving in to the primal urge to rip and tear into the other.

When something finally snapped, however, it didn't go as expected.

--

"Dammit Vincent, your fuckin' boots left huge – hic – slashes all over the fuckin' place! I oughtta shove a fuckin' scorpion in those things! I oughtta – hic – oughtta have pushed you into the fuckin' Northern Crater. But no, you and the little – hic – brat had to go to fuckin' Midgar. Bet you two had fun." Swaying drunkenly, Cid held on tight to his beer can as he attempted to stalk down one of the corridors of the Highwind. Stumbling slightly, the blond man came to the conclusion that he was incredibly drunk. The Highwind sat perfectly still, and yet here he was, falling over himself like Yuffie did every time they were in the air. Perfect. However, no matter how much he'd like to go drop off in his room (or, as the more likely scenario, go get another drink and celebrate Sephiroth's defeat just a bit more), this had to be taken care of. No one scratched his airship like that.

Tossing the empty can aside, Cid began to go through his mental list of preparations. Cloud and Barrett were still drinking – or passed out – in the kitchen. Tifa and Yuffie had ran off giggling and spouting some girly nonsense about French braids and manicures. Red XIII and Cait Sith, neither being inclined to drink, were already discussing the future of Shinra, the planet, and even Red XIII's species. Vincent had slipped away soon after the girls had, but he'd left Cid a trail of deep gashes in the floor. They seemed to be leading to the man's room, which presented another problem. Cid knew Vincent had his Death Penalty on him, but the man had a vast collection of fire-arms – with luck, they would be stored in the safe. Cid, however, knew his weakness – Vincent was honorable. If Cid didn't bring his Venus Gospel, Vincent wouldn't use his guns – and so Cid came with nothing more than his fists and a drunken brain that had somehow convinced him that this was a good idea.

It wasn't as though Cid hadn't thought about it. After some of their worse fights, usually the ones that became physical, Cid had calmed himself down by imagining the other man in a variety of painful situations. Never enough to kill him – just to frighten him. Cid wasn't a murderer, though deep down he knew that he had only saved Shera just in time. It wasn't the act of saving her that he remembered; it was the hesitation before he did so. Drunk out of his mind, however, and with the deep gashes on his floor… well, it was unclear just how far this would go.

As he had suspected, the marks turned and then stopped at Vincent's door. It was cracked open slightly, the lights inside dim, but Cid couldn't see the ex-Turk. 'Must be farther back, then.' With a roll of his neck, Cid entered the room.

--

Vincent Valentine had undergone more scientific experiments and surgeries than anyone on the planet. He had four demons living in his head, a dead ex-girlfriend who was encased in crystal, and fashion sense that many people found strange. It was no wonder, really, that when presented with alcohol, he drank it. Unfortunately, relaxing his mind while intoxicating not only himself, but also his demons, was not a good idea. That was why he had left for his room, eyes flashing from red to gold and back to red in quick spurts. The gashes on the floor were from literally dragging himself to his room at some points as he mentally wrestled with Chaos, the only one of his demons who felt like manifesting just because it could.

Vincent blamed Cid, as the pilot was the one who had mixed the strong concoction of drinks that the gunslinger had downed repeatedly. Chaos chuckled his agreement, fighting for control as Vincent stumbled into his bathroom, smirking as Vincent's claw sank slightly into his forehead. He knew, even if Vincent didn't, that they would be followed – and he intended to make the most of it. Although Vincent generally regarded him as a bloodthirsty killing machine, Chaos was iintelligent/i. There was a reason he was the most dangerous of Vincent's inner demons, and it wasn't just the fact that he had more physical power and a horrible temper. When it came to scheming, plotting, planning, and making his hosts life miserable in an emotional or psychological way, Chaos was the demon of choice. Getting Vincent drunk out of his mind just helped speed the process along.

"Hellmasker. Galien Beast. Death Gigas. We have work to do."

There was a snarl, and from the strange mental-world that Vincent's inner demons dwelled in, three pairs of eyes opened. None of the three spoke; Chaos was clearly planning something, and while they didn't fear the demon, they certainly respected him.

"Valentine is drunk, as are the others. When coming here, and made him make a few scratches on Highwind's precious airship. He won't stand for it, and then…" Chaos smirked, lips curling to reveal pointed teeth and ill intent. "Then the fun will begin. As fun as killing the foul man would be, it would be much more fun to make Valentine do something that he won't be able to get over. Something to 'angst' about, as the irritating ninja-child says."

"Why Highwind, though? Surely someone he doesn't –"

"No. Destroying any chance he has, or making Highwind hate him… imagine the possibilities, Hellmasker. We could go back. We could go back to the darkness."

Several smirks split through the darkness, and a set of claws twitched in eager anticipation.

--

Cid's steps were careful now, his drunken stumble almost gone, and for a moment he wondered if he was still drunk. The next minute he decided it didn't matter, because he could see him – just barely, but it was enough, crouched there against the bathroom wall, golden claw splayed around his forehead and crimson cape slung onto the floor. For a moment, something feral possessed Cid Highwind, and later he wondered if that was how Vincent feels when Chaos takes control. He didn't think, however, he simply moved closer, hands twitching and then –

"Cid."

Vincent is standing, swaying, and flecks of gold let Cid know that he isn't in his right mind. Even his voice is different; a deep, rumbling growl, something husky, but Chaos has his voice thrown in, and it turns from something predatory to something downright deadly, but Cid is the predator here and so, instead of feeling afraid, he growls back.

"Vincent."

Black leather clings to pale muscle and the gunman is pushing him backwards, out of the bathroom and into the dark expanse of Vincent's bedroom. It isn't physical, but Cid obliges anyway – there was no way he was turning his back on the ex-Turk. Blue eyes meet red-gold again, and Cid cracks his jaw.

"You left a bunch of fuckin' gashes all over my bloody airship. You're gonna pay for that one, Valentine."

Vincent smirks, and without his cape there Cid can see it, and he can see the pointed fangs that Chaos wears with such pride, and he can see that Vincent/Chaos is just as game as he is. Or, at least, he thinks he can. Cid doesn't know Chaos; iVincent/i doesn't even know Chaos. But Chaos knows Chaos, and Chaos knows Vincent, and Chaos knows Cid, so when Cid lets a punch go with remarkable aim for someone so drunk, Chaos lets it hit Vincent's shoulder before grabbing the blonde by the throat and forcing him against the wall. He can smell a bit of fear, and he wants more of it – wants to get as drunk as his host – but he won't, because he wants Vincent's already fragile mind to break even more, and so he lets Vincent take a little more control.

For a minute, Vincent isn't sure what's happening. Then he realizes that there is stubbled flesh under his fingers, and a leg that – in trying to dislodge him – is putting him into a compromising position. He hissed, and suddenly Chaos is there again, and Cid's knee is between his legs, and he surges forward to tear at the pilot's neck with fangs that are and aren't his.

Cid gasps, bucks, and throws his head back – he thought Vincent hated him, thought he hated everything really, but when they were fighting he had always taken a moment to look up and down that long, lean body, and when punches were thrown and he was cleaning himself off, he would imagine what it would have been like to throw the other man down into the dirt…

There are pale lips pressing against his now, and a tongue is being forced into his mouth. Cid's hands dig into the leather on Vincent's back, and the grip on his throat loosens, than tightens because Cid moans in loss, and a claw is tearing at his clothing in frantic motions. For a moment, Cid wonders how much Vincent had to drink for him to be doing this, and then cold metal touches his back and thin red lines start to appear.

From within Vincent's mind, Chaos is outraged – the pilot is enjoying it, and for a moment Chaos feels an overwhelming sense of loss, because maybe he doesn't know Cid as well as he thinks he does. However, then Cid is tearing at the leather, actually ripping some of it, and the demon decides to enjoy this, because there's always the off chance that it will get too rough. After all, they're both drunk and angry, and sometimes that's all it takes.

--

Vincent knows the moment Chaos decides to stop playing, and takes advantage of it. He pulls Cid around, this time actually pushing him onto the bed, but his dark red eyes don't go to Cid's – he's practically raping him, but he wants it, and when he thinks about stopping Chaos forces his hand around Cid's throat while his claw caresses the man through his pants, and so Vincent keeps going. The pilot's clothes are torn, but Vincent doesn't think about that, doesn't think about how the morning after could result in him being killed – so what if it does? he reasons, I may as well go out now – and doesn't think about how he could be ruining everything. Cid, meanwhile, has somehow managed to get the buckles undone, though the leather is still clinging to Vincent, and is moaning and shifting and doesn't care if Vincent is possessed or about the gashes in his floor, because it feels so goddamn good…

Cid moans, and pure lust is there, and it undoes Vincent even more. He pulls the leather off, pulls whatever's remaining of Cid's clothing off, and climbs on top of the man. He stops choking him, and his hand takes over what his claw started. The golden claw, meanwhile, goes to Cid's hair and jerks his head forward for another biting kiss, which Cid groans into.

"Vin… oh Gods… Vin…"

Vincent pulls his hand away, and nips down on Cid's collarbone, his hand grasping for something on the bedside table. Cid, meanwhile, decides to return the favor, and Vincent is distracted by calloused hands as he fumbles with the bottle of lotion he's managed to grab. He manages to get some on his fingers, though, and soon Cid is having problems returning the favor because there are fingers inside of him, pressing up against him, and then there is more; bigger, hotter, better than anything he's ever felt, and nails are scratching and teeth are biting and neither of them last very long.

There will be bruises in the morning, bite-marks and scratches decorating them like war-heroes (which really, they are, but it was a war against a company and then only one man, but it was still a war). For now, Vincent pulls out of the man who was ready to kill him only a little while before, but Cid grabs his arm. Vincent tenses as Cid opens his mouth to speak, refusing to look at the shorter man.

"That was… I…"

'Here we go… the denial, the anger, the swearing… he'll probably kill me for doing this to him, and I deserve it.'

"How'd ya know?"

Vincent looks up, red eyes (there's no gold anymore; Chaos is sitting back, watching with intent interest) darting up to rest on Cid's face, careful – hopeful.

"I'd thought about it like that for… awhile. Every fight was jus' a little more sexual frustration than anythin' else, an excuse to touch ya… to see ya unravel…"

Vincent chokes slightly, eyes wide in wonder, and then a slight smile graces his lips. "I… am not as harsh, normally. But it had been a long time, Cid, and well… we're all going our separate ways now, and if I was going to be killed…"

"Shut up." Cid growls, and Vincent notices the harsh red lines on his chest. "I admit that you can annoy the hell outta me, but… well… I don't just fuck and run, y'know?"

Vincent nods, and later, when sleep has overtaken them both, Chaos growls. He wanted darkness, and he found light. Bat-wings stretch, but then Galien Beast comes to him, and Chaos smirks again. If nothing else, life will be more interesting from now on, and as the demonic mastermind slides a claw down the other demon's side, he decides that maybe he can live with that.