Twelve Hours of Silence

Rating: Mild PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Cid & Vincent as well as the usual pairings.
Warnings: Mpreg. And you may want to use a cavity-resistant toothpaste before you read this…
Summary: Vincent has a hissy-fit.
Notes: A very special fluffy thank-you fic for Animama. I know it’s a bit early for Christmas fics, but it was such a cute bunny I couldn’t resist.

Every Christmas Shane would make Divinity Fudge. It was white and delicate and melted in your mouth and was pure heaven. The year she died I tried to make it. I ended up with a substance unknown to man. It was clearish and would sort of slowly spread if you left it alone, but if you tried to cut a piece it would shatter and I actually cut my hand on a chunk. Bits ended up on the wall and try as I might I could NOT get that stuff cleaned off. I finally had to ask my friends to come over and help me with it. We gave it to the colony of wee sugar-ants that lived in a crack in the hearth of my fireplace. The ants gave it back. To this day I cannot make it, but to me nothing symbolizes Christmas like a silver dish of beautiful snow-white Divinity Fudge.

Illustrations by Animama.

Vincent knew his friends were used to him. They knew he was a flake. They expected him to lurk in the background and be shy and nervous and about as conversational as a graveyard monument. They expected him to avoid every gathering and party he could, they expected him to pass out after a can and a half of beer, and they expected him to be as lively and playful as dead bank manager. There was, however, one little quirk they were not aware of.

He hated being predictable.

Christmas was probably Vincent’s least favourite holiday. He loathed it. All that family unity and cheer and gathering of friends and family… he’d rather rip his own nipples off with a shard of broken glass. Cid adored Christmas. He was into the whole thing, the carolling, the cutting of trees, the parties, everything. Cid was Father Christmas. He even sang in the local choir. It made Vincent, his mother and Teddy insane. Not that Cid couldn’t sing; he could, and beautifully. He was often asked to perform solo. It was his habit of rehearsing in the shower of the main bathroom on the second floor of the stone house now dubbed Valentine Manor that was the problem. And the days when the rest of the choir showed up to make use of the bathroom’s resonance were pure hell. Vincent endured it because he loved Cid, and Cid was a social animal. He needed to be a part of things. And there was no holiday more social than Christmas. It was Cid’s favourite time of the year.

Oh there had been a time when Vincent loved it as well. There had been a time when his little heart would beat with excitement, and his eyes would shine with the lights of the tree, and the glitter of tinsel in the firelight, and his very soul seemed to lift to the heavens at the sight of a Christmas snow. He wasn’t entirely certain what had soured him on the holiday. It wasn’t any one thing; more likely it was a collection of things that had happened, combined with the concept that this was the time of year when miracles were supposed to happen, and wrongs were set right, and evil hearts softened. Bull-shit. Vincent had been in that coffin thirty years, and Santa never showed up once. Then again, he never hung a stocking on the end of his casket, either. Maybe it was his fault. After all, everything else in his life was. Lucrecia, his altered body, the price of tea in Mideel, the occasional outbreaks of turkey-lice in Kalm, yeah it was all his fault, what the fuck, revel in the depression, Valentine, you’re good at it.

But Vincent hated being predictable. It was just a quirk; a small fuzzy one that rarely had a chance to rear its kitten head. So when he heard Aeris laughingly refer to him as Ebenezer Valentine, his quirk raised its wee hackles and rose onto tiny pink toes and hissed. He paused outside the kitchen, listening to Cid and Aeris talk.

“Ah he’s not that bad,” said Cid, his voice warm with affection.

“Cid, I have seen the man spend five hours in a closet to avoid a party.”

“He was just homesick for the casket.”

Aeris giggled. “Well I love Vincent too, but he’s not exactly Hattie Homemaker, is he?”

“Hey my Vincent can do anything he wants to. So dinner parties aren’t his thing. He could do it if he wanted.”

Dear sweet Cid. Vincent could always count on him to take his part. Then Aeris opened her mouth and said something that made his tiny fuzzy quirk bear up onto its back feet and spread its tiny forepaws.

“Cid, he’s a love. But he is as predictable as rain in April. He hates parties, he doesn’t do parties, and I think we should have our Christmas party over at Cloud and Reno’s this year.”

“Oh yay, dead pigeons and Absinth.”

“They don’t drink Absinth anymore now that they have a baby. And that was not pigeon they served, it was squab.”

“Pigeon. Cid Highwind doesn’t eat things that hang out on statues.”

“Oh balderdash, you had three!”

“I was trying to keep it out of enemy hands.”

“Cid you are terrible, I have no idea why Vincent puts up with you. And speaking of poor Vincent, he does not need the stress of trying to organize a Christmas party when he is nine months pregnant, and we all know how he feels about parties anyway, so let’s spare him the predictable meltdown and have it at Cloud and Reno’s.”

“Okay, but I better not see anything on my plate that was mooching popcorn off old ladies in the park earlier that day.”

Predictable. Yup. That was it, that was the shot that got Vincent’s rarely-raised hackles up. Predictable. Poor little Vincent with his bad nerves and shy demeanour and utter lack of home-making skills. Didn’t know a pie fork from a dinner fork from an escargot fork. My, my, what would Martha Stewart say? He narrowed his eyes.

“I do not think taking him to Cloud and Reno’s house is good idea,” said Serafina. “He’s pregnant. Is too stressful in his condition. He needs to be home, where his mama can look after him. He’s already overdue.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Cid.

“Mama is always right. Be a good gorilla and pass me the sugar.”

“Well then let’s you and I do the party,” said Aeris to Serafina. “Right here. And we’ll spare Cid and Vincent the trauma of trying to figure out which end of the bird to stuff. You know what men are like with that sort of thing. Besides, Vincent would probably want to decorate the place with bats.”

Okay that was IT, the bitch was going down in flames for that. If Aeris wanted to play girls-versus-boys in HIS house, then it was ON. First she calls him predictable and then she insults his ability to decorate in keeping with the season?! The tiny kitten-sized part of Vincent that was his ego raised a teeny fluffy paw and spat. He was going to do the party this year, and he was going to put a few people solidly in their place while he was at it. He didn’t say anything right away, of course. He waited until he and Cid were snuggling into bed for the night. Then he sprung it on him.

“I want to handle the Christmas party for this year,” said Vincent.

Cid sat up and looked down at him, a look of profound bewilderment on his face.

“Hah?”

“I want to handle the Christmas party for this year.”

Cid shook his head, certain he was hearing his husband incorrectly. “What?!”

“I said…”

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“I’m not allowed to throw a party?”

“Sure you’re allowed,” said Cid. “It’s just that you hate parties.”

“Yes, but you love them, and you should not have to plan your entire life around my issues.”

Cid lay down and drew Vincent close, snuggling him. “If I didn’t want to live my life around your issues, I wouldn’t have married you. Besides, are you up to this?” Cid ran his hand over Vincent’s belly. “You’re four days overdue with my daughter.”

“I’m fine. She doesn’t weight anywhere near what Benji and Aiden did. But if I am to do this, I have one request.”

“And what would that be?” asked Cid, nibbling his neck.

“Twelve hours of silence.”

Cid paused, once more trying to comprehend what he just heard. “Hah?”

“I want twelve solid hours of peace and solitude before the party.”

“Twelve…?”

“If I am going to do this, I am going to have to be as stress-free as possible.”

“Well yeah I understand but… I don’t think I like the idea of leaving you alone, as pregnant as you are.”

Vincent nipped him. “If anything starts to happen, I will call you. Trust me, all right?”

Cid looked worried, but caved in to Vincent’s request. “Okay. Aeris wanted to take Ifalna up to the game farm to see the reindeer. I can take Benji and Aiden, and Serafina if she wants to go. And Teddy already said he has plans with David and won’t be back until about nine pm Christmas Eve. So I guess if we are out of the house by nine in the morning and back about nine at night, then the whole clan can meet here and we can just go from there.”

Vincent smiled. “I always knew I loved you for more than that nice solid butt. In fact I believe the first thing I thought upon meeting you was ‘my gawd what an ass!’”

“And you hadn’t even seen my butt, had you?” Cid kissed him. “Well if you want twelve hours of peace and quiet, then that’s what I’ll give you. What else would you like for Christmas?”

“To not be pregnant anymore for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, with my superior DNA I can’t make any promises.”

Vincent grinned as Cid snuggled and nibbled him. “Fine, we’ll have another one when you’re sixty, just so you can prove your male superiority to your friends.”

“Perfect. I mean they already know but by then they could use a reminder.”

Vincent sighed. “I’m amazed there is room in this bed for the four of us.”

“Four?”

“You, me, the baby, and your ego.”

***---***

Christmas eve, Vincent awoke in his own bed and opened one eye, listening.

Nothing. Nada. Not a sound. No radio, no baby-wars, no Skippy thundering up and down the halls, no Teddy performing his Buddhist prayers in his room, no Serafina and Aeris nattering in the kitchen, no Cid hammering and swearing in the hangar, no Ifalna playing skip-rope in her room, nothing. It was almost too good to be true.

Vincent slowly sat up, placing a hand on his stomach and wincing slightly. He was now six days overdue, but he felt fine. He rose from the bed, wearing shorts and a t-shirt that used to belong to Barret until Reno pointed out that the cute little rainbow insignia on the shoulder was the symbol for gay pride. Frankly with some of the things Vincent had seen Barret in, he was surprised he cared. If that ugly mesh thing he loved wasn’t a clear indicator of latent homosexual tendencies, he didn’t know what was.

Vincent went into the bathroom and had a long shower, without Cid popping in to see if he was okay, without Benji and Aiden climbing in, without Skippy shoving his head in to indulge in his weird fetish for soapy bathwater. It was pure bliss. He loved his family dearly, but oooooohhh this was soooo gooooooood…

He stepped out of the shower and dressed in the comfortable and decidedly stylish outfit Aeris had made for him. He had been hinting to her she should look into making maternity wear for men; with all the experimenting Shinra had done there had to be a few more guys than just the ones in their own tiny clan who were in the family way, though they had not heard of any. Still it was tough enough to be a pregnant male without having to face nine months of pink frilly things.

Vincent went downstairs and made himself a cup of tea and had scones with jam. He ate slowly, relishing the peace without his mother trying to cram more food into him on the grounds that he was too skinny to be pregnant. He finished his breakfast, then glanced at the clock and smiled. Ten am. Time to get cooking.

Vincent strongly suspected no one knew he could cook. He could, and very well. Mostly he liked to flambé things. He suspected that had a little to do with Chaos; she really liked to see shooting flames. Cid and Aeris tended to stay out of the kitchen when Vincent cooked. It made them nervous watching him perform what looked more like alchemy than cookery.

By eleven-thirty, he had the turkey stuffed and in the oven, the pies made, three batches of cookies done, and was carefully working on a batch of very temperamental Divinity Fudge when there was a knock at the door. Leaving the fudge, he went to the door and opened it to be met by a veritable squadron of formidable and highly organized little old ladies.

“You have your orders?” Vincent asked.

“Nothing cute,” said the elderly woman in charge. “No singing Santas, no singing reindeer, no glowing snowmen, and no Cupids urinating punch.”

“Exactly.”

"Scrooge.”

“I wish I was. I’d be spending Christmas alone in a cold dark draughty house with a bunch of ghosts.”

***---***

At nine pm, Cid opened the door to his home and peered inside. The entire house was silent, and dark. He blinked, feeling puzzled. Behind him, Tifa rubbed her hands to warm them.

“Why is it dark and quiet?” she asked. “The party was for tonight, wasn’t it?”

“You don’t suppose he suddenly went into labour, do you?” asked Barret.

“No way,” said Cid. “I told him to call me. I don’t like this at all. C’mon, something’s not right here.”

Cid, Barret and Cloud walked into the kitchen, pausing, listening. Behind them, Reno stepped inside, his tiny daughter in a basket.

“I smell turkey,” he said.

Yuffie breathed deep “Oh and gingerbread and pumpkin pie! But why are all the lights out?”

Cid reached out and flipped the switch for the kitchen light. Nothing happened. The group held their ground, wary. Then a tall figure nudged his way through the crowd.

“Baby be careful!” hissed Zack.

“If I am assaulted by a bowl of cranberry sauce I shall be certain to call for backup.”

“Let me know if you are attacked by some white meat covered in sausage gravy!” said Tifa.

Sephiroth walked into the darkened house, reaching the living room and flicking a switch on the wall. He flinched as the entire house suddenly came alive with lights, colour, and music, the low tones of a beautiful male tenor singing Christmas carols filling the room. Something sparked within the fireplace, and in moments there was a fragrant fire blazing. A tree that had not been there when Cid left lit up, decorated in silver and gold, shimmering with brilliant lights. The whole living room was trimmed in lights and garlands of holly leaves and berries. On the table, three chafing dishes quietly whooshed into life, as did the eight gold candles arranged between the covered silver dishes, illuminating the white plates laid out beside the crystal wine glasses. Spread across the table were decorations of fruit and nuts, and delicate silver dishes stacked with a type of snow-white confection. Slowly the group filed into the living room, looking around in quiet wonder.

“Holy cats,” muttered Cid. “Did my Vincent do all this? Who…? How did he make the fire and the candles…?” He looked around, mouth hanging open. “Am I in the right freaking house?!”

Skippy bounced over to his spot before the fire, delighted to find a new red pillow just for him, and a large piece of rawhide wrapped in a bow. A live dove fluttered down and landed on Tifa’s shoulder, cooing softly. The group stood in silent astonishment, unable to take in what they were seeing.

“You know, I heard about this group of guys that break into people’s houses and redecorate…” said Yuffie.

Cid turned to head up the stairs in search of Vincent, and nearly walked into a figure clad in a long scarlet cloak, trimmed with white fur, decorated with fine golden lines that formed trailing vines and leaves. Beneath the cloak was a matching robe of white, decorated with the same golden vines and leaves, the vest and hem trimmed in crimson. His long hair, for one of the few times in his life, was combed, and hung long and silky past his shoulders. Vincent’s hands were gloved in black leather, and clutched the handle of a white wicker basket. He and Cid just stared at each other, Cid rendered speechless with astonishment. Vincent smiled shyly.

“I didn’t have time to go shopping,” Vincent said quietly, “so I made you something instead. Hope you don’t mind.”

He handed Cid the basket, who took it almost absent-mindedly, his eyes still fixed on Vincent. Cid stepped closer, holding the basket in one hand, reaching up with the other to touch his face.

“How did you manage all this?”

“Well I had a little help with the decorating, but the food I did myself, and your friend Jimmy brought in the tree for me.” Vincent smiled. “Aren’t you going to look at your present? I worked very hard on it.”

Cid would much rather have stared at Vincent, but he cast a glance down at the basket, the handle tied with a green velvet ribbon, sporting a label that read;

To Cid, love Vincent

It took him a moment to understand what he was staring at, and once he realized the ensuing shock almost brought him to his knees.

“Fucking HELL, Valentine, that’s a baby!”

“I know.”

“That’s our baby!”

“I know that, too.”

“You trying to give me a damned heart attack?!”

Vincent shrugged, then smiled. “Well I hope you like it, they’re non-returnable.”

“You’re insane, you know that.” Cid reached into the basket and gently drew down the little blankets as his friends gathered, finding a tiny face with a poofy mop of fluffy white hair.

“Another victim of the infamous Valentine hair,” said Sephiroth. “Boy? Girl?”

“Girl,” said Vincent. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you all to meet Rhiannon Valentino Highwind.”

“Valentino?” inquired Yuffie.

“I like it, I’m the one who had to give birth between pings of the oven timer, I can name her what I like.”

“Wait,” said Tifa, “you were in labour and still making dinner?!”

“Well Divinity Fudge is touchy stuff, you can’t leave it.”

Tifa just stared, unable to speak. Aeris shook her head, and repeated Tifa’s statement.

“You were in LABOUR, and you were STILL making dinner?!”

Vincent blinked at her. “As I said, Divinity Fudge is touchy stuff. You don’t want to see what happens to it when it fails.”

“Holy cow!” said Yuffie, eyes large. “Vincent’s the undead Martha Stewart!”

“Not quite,” said Vincent. He glanced towards Aeris, narrowing his red eyes. “You know what men are like with that sort of thing.”

She blushed. “I didn’t realize you had heard that.”

“I have very good hearing.”

Cid set the basket down on a chair so he could take his tiny new daughter out of it, showing her to his friends and family. Sephiroth promptly stole her.

“You don’t need another one of those!” Tifa warned laughingly, as Barret raised the lid from a vat of hot mulled wine. “You’ve got four already!”

Sephiroth tried and failed to look innocent. “I was just looking.”

Zack took the infant from Sephiroth and gave her back to her father. “Don’t make me get the newspaper,” groused Zack. He sighed as a second dove landed on his head and began picking inquisitively at the drops of melted snow in his hair. “Brilliant, I’m a bird-feeder.”

A tall figure clad in white peeked into the room. “I do hope I’m interrupting.”

“Hey Rufus!” called Cid. “Come have a seat!”

“Thank you, but I cannot. I have fourteen children at home expecting Reeve and I to put in an appearance, I only came by to wish my brother a merry Christmas and tell him there are better-looking and taller men in the world than the angsty little runt he has.”

“Taller, yo,” said Reno. “None better-looking.”

Barret handed him a glass of mulled wine. Rufus looked at it, then turned his head to face Reeve. “I think we are staying for one drink.”

“ONE,” said Reeve. “You can get plastered at home.”

Rufus kissed him, then walked over to Reno and kissed him as well. He then happened to notice what Cid was holding in his arms.

“Good grief, that wasn’t there yesterday!”

“Wasn’t here when I left this morning, either!” said Cid. He looked at Vincent. “When did you have her?”

Vincent accepted a glass of wine from Yuffie, thinking. “Five-forty. Just after the second batch of fudge was ready.”

Cid just shook his head. He carefully handed his daughter to Rufus and moved quickly over to Vincent, throwing his arms around him and kissing him.

“I told you to call me, ya goofy shit!”

“I couldn’t call you, I was busy.”

“I oughta spank your ass! Marry me. We’ll do it without the moose this time.”

Elena accepted a glass of wine from Yuffie, then stood beside her, an arm about her waist. “Vincent, never again shall anyone question your ability to play homemaker.”

“Even after having seen where you used to live,” said Yuffie.

“And I owe you an apology,” said Aeris. “If there is one thing I should know by now it is to never assume. But I must admit, this… I mean… in labour and making fudge, and timing it so you would not ruin the fudge… THAT will stick with me forever. I cannot get over that. Unbelievable.”

“It’s your own fault,” said Vincent. “I may not have much of an ego, but you called me predictable, and brought into question my ability to accomplish something.”

Serafina was already on her second glass. “There is not a Valentine alive who will not rise to that bait!”

Aeris looked puzzled. “So you did this just to get me back?”

“Only partly. I did it for Cid, mostly, who has to put up with my many and varied neuroses on a daily basis. But I will not say putting you in your place did not hold a certain amount of appeal, especially after the remark about how I would likely deck the halls with boughs of bats instead of holly.”

She shook her head and smiled. “Vincent I shall never again question your ability to do anything!”

Rufus meanwhile looked at the tiny baby girl in his arms, bundled in a blanket, dressed in a miniature green dress. He studied the white hair, the ivory complexion, and glanced at Reeve, confusion in his blue eyes. Reeve leaned close.

“I thought you lied about Vincent being Sephiroth’s father!” he whispered.

“I did!”

“Then why…?”

Rufus shook his head. The pair gazed at each other, seeing the same confusion reflected in each other’s eyes. Then Sephiroth prowled by to steal the infant once more, a perfect match to the tiny baby girl. They watched him walk away with her, holding her close, ignoring the dove that fluttered down to perch on him. Reeve glanced at Rufus.

“I don’t know about you, but I have a sudden urge to check the roof of this house for deer prints and sleigh tracks.”

“So do I, my love. So do I.”