Konitsu (konitsu) wrote in roads_diverged, @ 2007-10-01 23:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | final fantasy vii, konitsu:cid/vincent, theme 34: con men |
Honey to Gravel
Title: Honey to Gravel
Author: Konitsu
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: CidxVincent
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cid talking as Cid does
Theme: Conmen - knowledge for this prompt cribbed mainly from movies and silly novels. Take that as you will.
Cid’s always the one doing the talking, because once he’s clamped down on the temper and the foul language, he’s about a million times less threatening than Vincent. Despite the breadth of his shoulders, he’s not tall enough to intimidate most housewives, and his honeyed southern drawl gets him the rest of the way. What respectable, blond haired, blue eyed, suit wearing southern gentleman would do anything untoward?
It is a lucky thing that Vincent’s got a remarkable poker face, because part of him wants to laugh hysterically every time Cid puts on the act. Once you’ve seen a man covered in engine grease, chain smoking and swearing a blue streak, it’s a bit hard to take the tie and innocent eyes seriously. Vincent just sits back while Cid spins the introduction – free vacation, low interest loans, glorious prizes, whatever they’ve come up with this week – looking calm and in control. Only at the very end does he swoop in. If the target’s looking suspicious, Vincent makes his apologies for taking up their time and smoothes their exit. But if Cid has sparked interest in their eyes, and they’re leaning forward with earnest enthusiasm, Vincent gives the ‘spiel’; legal contracts, sign your name here, I am a professional looking man in a professional looking suit and everything I say makes quite a bit of sense, really.
That was how today ended, easy money in the bank, and Cid’s looking pleased with himself even as he swears under his breath and strips out of the tie and jacket. Pulling a battered pack of cigarettes out of the glove box of their old, but well loved and well kept, car, he settles into the passenger seat with his legs out the door and his feet on the tarmac.
“I thought she was never gonna shut up,” he says, and away from prying eyes honey-southern turns into gravel-southern and Vincent knows which he prefers.
Vincent takes off his own jacket, but folds it neatly and places it in the back seat. “The trials we must face.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.”
Cid pulls his feet into the car and crawls over the stick shift into the driver’s seat. Vincent takes a moment to enjoy the view of Cid’s ass in those slacks, and then slips into the car and shuts the passenger’s side door behind him. He only gets to drive if Cid is drunk or asleep, which is perfectly fine by him. The long car rides from place to place, hotel to hotel, scam to scam, give him time to read, and driving makes Cid happy. Or, at least, driving makes Cid happy as Cid’s ever going to get.
Neither of them are cheerful men; a combination of natural inclination and the pain of life. They certainly don’t find any uplifting joy from the moral nature of their earthly deeds – they tumbled into this mostly through accident and desperation, and stuck with it because of each other. And they’re damn accomplished at it. Cid’s too smart for his own good in a lot of ways and Vincent knows the ins and outs of the law better than he knows himself, and neither of them really care much about the wellbeing of strangers.
“What do we need?” Vincent asks.
It’s a familiar conversation, and he can practically see Cid making the mental catalogue before he answers, “well, this piece of shit –“ Cid actually loves the car more than, perhaps, Vincent and his own life, “could do with a new set of tires. And I want a night in a hotel that doesn’t have a fucking number in the name.”
“The Super 8 will be jealous.”
Cid turns his head to glare at Vincent, but Vincent just quirks an eyebrow. They both turn away at the same time, Cid to keep his eyes on the road and Vincent to pick up a book off the floor and flip to his turned-down page.
In two days, one woman will be crying over the phone to her bank and the police, her credit and her hopes for a free trip the Bahamas ruined. Vincent will be in the shower at the Carlton, washing off the sweat of a gratifying night of sex and smirking at the sound of Cid verbally abusing the room service staff.