Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the creation of Square-Enix (or whatever they call themselves now). I'm just 'borrowing' the characters for a bit.

Tangles – Vincent, a hairbrush, a window, and Cid. Unabashed CidxVincent fluff.

This story has no reason for existence except an extreme need for fluff. Also, I've developed a habit of pinning my hair up in a semi-bun, partly because I like the hair clip and partly because I like the feeling of the sun on my back. This story came out of that guilty pleasure, and just to write a short little ficcu - which is, sadly, my first FFVII fic.

Many thanks to Zoo-sama who had to deal with all the unnecessary fluff of this fanfic and beta-ed it for me:) It is muchly appreciated, truly.

Rated PG-13 (or T?) for shounen-ai and language, courtesy of Cid (as usual).

Vincent winced for the fifty-sixth time as he felt a couple hundred more strands of hair being yanked out of his scalp, followed shortly by a series of creative curses. If this continued on the way it did, the gunman was pretty sure he was going to be sporting an embarrassing bald spot, but he couldn't think of a polite way of getting the hairbrush away from the pilot without hurting the man's feeling. Cid had, after all, volunteered to comb his hair, and he wasn't sure if doing a horrendous job was a good enough reason to throw his boyfriend out the window.

It probably wasn't, he admitted dryly, but it was a tempting thought nevertheless.

"Shit, Vincent. How the hell did you manage to fuck up your hair so bad?" The brush was finally moved away from his hair, a source of instant relief for the gunner as Cid eyed his hair with the air of one fully expecting a bat to come flying out of one of the bigger knots. "I doubt Tifa ever got tangles this bad, and her hair's a lot longer than yours."

"She also brushes her hair everyday," he replied blandly, knowing before the words even came out that Cid wouldn't understand.

"Huh? What the fuck does that have anything to do with it!"

He sighed, "Never mind." For a moment, he was content to let it lie at that but on second thought, he was certain that he wanted Cid to stay away as far as humanly possible from his hair. But when he turned around to take the brush back, Cid shook his head grimly and clung to the torture device as if it was a genuine lump of gold.

"Hey, I told you I was going to comb your hair, and Cid Highwind doesn't renege on his promises," the blond growled stubbornly.

Vincent had no recollection of any such promise being made. In fact, the only memory he did have was of a certain pilot barging into the room, yelling at the top of his lungs to "sit the hell down and hold still!" because he apparently took too long to brush the tangles out of his hair. Which he could admit was true, although it wasn't really his fault. The knots were already difficult enough to get out in the first place, and his mechanical arm was ill-suited for this delicate process, especially since it couldn't even make a complete fist. Not that Cid cared. He'd barely had time to protest – if he was even going to – before he found himself being rudely shoved into the chair as the foul-mouthed man began to work at his hair with all the care of a lumberjack wielding an ax in his teeth.

But there was no reasoning with Cid at a time like this. The only thing he could do was twist his mouth into something that looked like a cross between a scowl and a bemused smile, although it was as understated as everything was about him.

"Just make sure you put out that cigarette then."

"Huh? Why?"

Vincent shrugged slightly, although he was careful not to move his head too much to prevent any more unnecessary pain, "I just washed my hair and I don't want ash getting into it." Again, he added silently.

"Well, if you're going to be so damn uptight about it," Cid grumbled even as he withdrew the brush, placing it on the bed and stomping over to the window to put the cigarette out on the sill, creating yet another mark that would have to be painted over. The gunner didn't know why he continued trying to cover those up, but he had a feeling that Cid was doing this on purpose as a way of getting back at him. Not to imply that the pilot was bitter and petty. Of course not. "I still don't see how your hair gets so fucked up in the first place. Did it always do that?"

"Since Cloud and the others woke me up. My hair was short before then." Strange how he could say these things so matter-of-factly, as if all those events earlier in his life had happened to someone else.

Cid must have sensed that he had broached a difficult topic, despite the nonchalance attitude Vincent had adopted towards the whole thing, and he grunted softly. "Must have been hell to untangle it then, huh?"

It wasn't really the right thing to say, but then Vincent wasn't sure what would have been. The statement brought a slight smile to his face as he remembered that first painful night outside of his coffin. While everyone was asleep – except Yuffie, who had been deathly afraid that he was a vampire who would suck out her blood the moment she fell asleep – he had sat next to the campfire trying to undo those tangles that had developed in thirty years of long sleep. He remembered the way she had sat on the log across from him, one hand protectively holding onto her Razor Ring as if afraid he might attack her if she didn't. Eventually she did doze off though, probably wrongly convinced that any real vampire would first of all have been melted by the fire, and by the fact that Vincent seemed too obsessed with his hair to give any thought towards 'feeding'.

At least, that was what he had garnered from the way she had yelled at the others next day, telling them that "Vincey spent the entire night playing with his hair". He had been developing a definite eye twitch by that point, although it was nearly impossible to see under the red hair ribbon and all the before-mentioned hair….

But now, he wasn't sure what he could say in response to Cid's question. So he just kept silent, watching as the pilot stood in front of the window, resting his elbows on the sill and leaning back to the point that if he leaned any further, he would fall out.

Vincent should know. He'd seen the blond do it before, much to everyone's amusement.

"Maybe I should just cut it." He wasn't sure where that came from, but he had been contemplating it for a while. Never very seriously, but it was always there. It didn't mean very much, although he supposed it could be construed as such. In a way, he was still mildly surprised that he hadn't just taken Cloud's Force Stealer to cut the mass of it all; however, it wasn't something he chose to concern himself with.

Apparently though, judging from the way Cid nearly fell out of the window again, it was something that the blond thought was quite important. He sounded positively injured as he asked, "Now why the hell would you want to do something like that?"

"It would be a lot less trouble that way," the gunner replied shortly as he stood, figuring that they were most likely done with this experiment in pain. The tangle was still there, but thanks to Cid's… careful work, it wasn't quite as bad as it had been before. It shouldn't take him very long to get it smoothed out, and if he cut his hair, then he wouldn't have to worry about it at all.

Cid made a sound, almost like he was choking. And Vincent supposed that he really shouldn't be amused, but it was definitely interesting to watch the pilot turn red from the lack of oxygen to his lungs, although that might have been caused by the cancer sticks the man continued to smoke.

"Is there a problem?" he asked dryly, finally taking pity and giving Cid the opportunity to start yelling at him in order to clear those nicotine-blocked passages.

The pilot turned an interesting shade of pink, "Well, shit Vincent. You don't need to cut it all off just because of a couple of fucking tangles." A hand was waved at his hair, as Cid continued, "I mean, that's a damn bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Not really." He wasn't sure if he was teasing his lover now, but it was somewhat fun to see the blond so unsettled by something as simple as hair. And to think it had started with a tangle…. "Besides, sometimes it just gets in the way."

"Of what?" Cid sounded positively exasperated, as if just entertaining the thought of cutting off that hair because it 'got in the way' was a travesty. He always did suspect that the pilot had a long hair fetish, although he had chosen not to say anything about it.

He shrugged as he turned to pick up the brush from the bed, something he knew would probably make the pilot's mood make a downturn for the worse. The growling was a pretty good indication that he had been correct in that assessment – Cid had never been the patient type, and he certainly had never been the kind who appreciated getting no answer to his questions.

With his back to the window, he could feel the sunlight shining through the window. He had abandoned the heavy cloak shortly after he had stopped wandering and moved in with Cid, even before their 'relationship' had been officially started, but the soft rays couldn't penetrate the long sheen of his hair. Another reason to cut his hair, he thought dryly, although he doubted the blond would understand this particular sentiment.

He heard a sudden curse and the creak of the floorboards as Cid walked over, grumbling loudly. "Whatever. (1) You better hurry up with your stupid hair – we're meeting the others and I don't want to be late because of that."

For a spiteful moment he considered pointing out that his lover was the one who almost died from the simple comment he had made, but in an act of kindness he decided against it. Which, as it turned out, worked to his benefit because suddenly and quite randomly, he felt those dark tresses being pulled back by coarse hands so that Cid could kiss his neck without getting a mouthful of hair in the process.

Cid… he wasn't really the romantic type, but he could definitely be impulsive, as Vincent had discovered over and over again. But there was nothing wrong with that, he thought to himself as a slight shiver ran up his spine when the kiss was finished, the sun shining on the back of his neck for a brief moment before the hair – tangle and all – was released and allowed to fall back into place.

He didn't even turn around to acknowledge the statement, "That is because you have an unhealthy obsession with long hair."

"What's wrong with long hair?"

With a sigh at being disrupted from his work – although the sigh was more obligatory than felt - he turned to look at her, "It's too much trouble to deal with."

"With beauty comes great sacrifices," she smiled slightly, as if enjoying her own private joke. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

"No."

"Well, I just did." Lucretia had a beautiful smile, which was always a benefit to those who enjoyed a natural propensity towards smiling. "Although it does come with its cons."

The Turk raised an eyebrow, "Like the fact that it's too much trouble to deal with."

She waved that off dismissively, "Oh, nothing like that. It's just that I like to feel the sun on the back of my neck."

He had no idea how to respond to such an inane statement. She seemed to sense his uncertainty, and quickly she made a little twirl so that for a short moment, he could see her hair that had been pinned up into a loose bun. "But I figured out a way to solve that, see?"

"I see."

If he sounded slightly dismayed at how silly she was being, Lucretia ignored it all with a usual dazzling smile. "Do you like the feeling of the sun on the back of your neck, Valentine-san?"

"It has never been a major factor in my life."

She laughed and suddenly, before he could argue, she danced lightly behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and using it as leverage to lift herself up high enough to lay a soft kiss the back of his neck. And when he stiffened, his entire face slowly flushing pink, she just let out a childish giggle as she let go, not acting all too concerned by the fact that he refused to face her.

"Maybe it will be now," the woman smiled before flouncing out of the room, leaving him alone with a blush and the sun on the back of his neck as her parting gift.

Commentary:

(1) Ohmygod, he's become Leon in Kingdom Hearts:dramatic gasp:

A/N: That has got to be the most pointless thing I've ever written in about five years worth of writing. Well, besides that essay on perfection in "Gulliver's Travels"….

PM

Finished: April 14, 2005

Beta-ed and Edited: April 15, 2005