Cid's Defeat

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Cid/Vin, Zack/Seph, Reno/Cloud
Warnings: Kids.Specifically pre-teen girls.
Summary: Cid finally meets his match… and it’s pink.
Notes:

“Are you sure you’ll be all right alone?” Vincent asked, suitcase in one hand, Rhiannon on his hip.

“I’ll be fine,” said Cid. “I’m Cid Fucking Highwind! You think I can’t manage a group of little girls?”

Vincent just blinked at him in that slightly wide-eyed way that told Cid the answer was “yes”, but Vincent wasn’t going to say so.

“I can handle a bunch of little girls,” Cid assured him.

Vincent looked uncertain. Cid stepped forward and gave him a gentle kiss. “Go have fun. I’ll be okay here. If the kids get out of hand I’ll just duct tape them to the wall and make them watch the news for five solid hours.”

Vincent hesitated once more. He seemed reluctant to leave Cid to the mercy of a herd of shrieking pre-teens, but not so reluctant that he was offering to stay. Vincent Valentine had no urge to be in a house of sugar-hyped kids armed with makeup and Justin Bieber albums. No, this mess was all Cid’s, and while Vincent felt terrible leaving him to his fate, there was no way he was staying.

The occasion was Miki’s tenth birthday, as well as Ifalna’s twelfth, and the party had been in the planning for weeks. Then the unthinkable happened and Sephiroth and Zack both came down with something that could only be called the flu-bug from hell. It was not easy for genetically-engineered warriors to get sick in the first place, but this had managed to reduce two of the most powerful warriors ever produced by Shinra to sweating, foaming, barfing, train wrecks. Miki was devastated, until Cid offered to let her have the party at his place.

That was when Cid found out that his husband was actually capable of having a fit.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? DO YOU HAVE THE FIRST IDEA WHAT A DOZEN LITTLE GIRLS GATHERED TOGETHER AND OVERDOSED ON SUGAR ARE LIKE??”

“How bad can it be?” Cid asked.

“I’m renting a motel room,” said Vincent flatly, and that was the end of the discussion. Miki Fair and Ifalna Gainsborough’s combined birthday party and sleepover was now in the hands of Cid Highwind.

Now it was the evening of the party, and Vincent was leaving the house for the night, just as scores of little girls between the ages of ten and thirteen began arriving. Cid stepped closer and gave Vincent a gentle kiss.

“I can handle this,” he said.

“I’ll put that on your tombstone,” said Vincent. He looked down to Benji, who was watching kids arrive with wide eyes. He then looked to his mother, who could not wait to flee the impending riot.

“Can I stay Mommy?” Without waiting for an answer, he looked to Miki. “Miki can I come to your party?”

“Sure!” said Miki. “Come on!”

Benji tore off into the fray. Vincent looked to Aiden.

“Do you want to stay?”

Aiden was succinct. “Fuck no!”

Vincent’s red eyes shifted to Cid, who just offered him a worried and rather plastic grin.

“Well ya can’t blame the kid for being truthful.”

“I don’t blame the kid for being truthful, I blame his father for his colourful vocabulary. Just once I would like a note from school that does not include an itemized list of four-lettered words uttered during play time.”

Cid picked up Vincent’s suitcase. “C’mon, “I’ll walk you to the car. Don’t fall in love with someone else while you’re gone.”

Vincent kissed him. “I’ll try to contain myself.”

So Vincent, Rhiannon, and Aiden left for the night, and Cid stayed at home with Benji and fourteen little girls of varying ages. The main party with presents and cake and games had been held at Aeris’ house, and now the sleepover was taking place in Vaelwind Manor.

“Shouldn’t that be spelled ‘V-A-L-E’?” asked Miki, staring at the sign above the door.

“Take it up with Aiden,” said Cid.

The girls… and Benji… were camped out in a very large ground-level room that Cid had originally built with the idea that it would be a gathering hall. The hall was completed but unfurnished, so it made the perfect place for little girls to pitch small free-standing tents and make their own little indoor village. Cid assumed they would confine their insanity to the hall and leave him alone.

He was, of course, dead wrong.

He watched from over the top of his newspaper as a herd of tiny forms in pink ran by, heading to the fridge to raid it of the treats put in there for their enjoyment. Following the girls was Benji, wearing what could only be called a toga made out of his grandmother’s best tablecloth and some fairy wings.

Cid went back to reading his paper. The herd of tiny raiders returned to the hall. Then Benji came back out.

“Daddy we need da TV. We wanna watch Sparkle-Time Pony.”

It would have been easier to let the little girls come into the living room to watch their show, but no way in hell was Cid enduring anything called Sparkle-Time Pony. So Cid hauled the large-screen TV into the room, connected it, and fled the Teeny Tiny Girlie Viking Village of the Damned. Too bad he couldn’t flee the sugar coated pony-songs wafting from the hall. After the pony show came Generic Teen Angst Drama, and then something that elicited a lot of squealing. The squealing became shrieking, and then something that sounded like a riot broke out. There were a lot of ‘whaps’ and ‘whacks’ and thuds, and he could only assume it was a pillow fight. That or they were sacrificing something to the Gods of Sugar and Hairspray.

Cid sank deeper in his chair and hid further behind his newspaper, trying to ignore the clouds of candy-scented perfume and sparkles wafting out of his hall. Another raid was conducted on the fridge, and he decided to order in pizza before Vincent came home to find nothing left of his husband but some pink glitter and gnawed bones.

Eight large pizzas and a few two litre bottles of soda later, Cid was hoping the party would be slowing down, but no, the girls were just getting started. More squealing, more screeching, and music and songs sung by what sounded like pre-pubescent hermaphrodites. Then somebody shrieked “MAKEOVER!” and the chaos reached a fever pitch.

Cid was beginning to understand why Vincent had fled.

Then… the noise stopped. Cid Highwind, who had survived the Jenova Wars, had faced down Sephiroth at his maddest, done battle with monsters few people on Gaia even knew existed, froze, sensing danger. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he slowly lowered his newspaper to see what evil awaited him. Gathered about his chair was the Beauty Salon of the Damned. Fourteen little girls… and Benji… stood before him. Their hair was teased and sprayed into a riot of tendrils, their faces covered in more makeup than an eighties’ metal band, dressed in frilly, sparkly outfits that a drag queen wouldn’t touch on a dare, gazed at him with demonic grins. They were armed with hairspray, makeup, wigs, extensions, false eyelashes, jewellery that must have come directly from that stupid pony, and one of Serafina’s nighties. They smiled at him in that creepy horror-movie way only little girls can manage. Somewhere in the distance, a child sang a simple, mindless tune.

“La, la! La, la! La, la la la la la, la…”

Cid stared at the girls. The girls stared at Cid. Slowly, Cid closed his newspaper, folded it neatly, and set it aside. He cautiously rose to his feet, pausing briefly as he stared at the Demon Munchkins. Then he ran like hell, a screaming pack of kids after him.

From across the runway, Reno watched Cid Highwind go tearing out of his house through a pair of binoculars, a collection of pink fluff and hair running after him.

“Think it’s too late to trade Kin in on a boy?” he asked.

Cloud stood beside him, watching the uprising through his own glasses. “Rufus would notice.”

Reno watched as Cid doubled back into the house and slammed the door. Led by Benji, the rampaging pack of little girls charged straight around the house to the hangar and into the house through the office door. Moments later they heard Cid screaming.

“Maybe Rufus wouldn’t notice,” said Cloud.

“Think we should go save him?” asked Reno.

Cloud grinned. “Nah. This is much more fun.”

“You’re sexy when you’re evil.”

***---***

The front door opened, and Vincent stepped inside, carrying Rhiannon, Aiden trailing after him. It was early afternoon, and Vaelwind Manor was in perfect order. The little tents from the sleepover were taken down, the bedding rolled up and put away, the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, and fourteen little girls… and Benji… were eating lunch in the kitchen. Everything was clean and put away and dusted and vacuumed; a sure sign that the evening before had been something approaching the aftermath of a losing soccer game.

“Mommy!” Benji hopped down from his chair and ran to Vincent, hugging him. “I missed you! Did you have fun?”

“I did,” said Vincent. “I had a nice quiet night.” He looked around the room. “Where’s your Daddy?”

“Aw he won’t come out of the bedroom.”

Uh-oh.

Setting Rhiannon down, Vincent walked silently out of the kitchen and into the hall, going up the set of red-carpeted stone steps to the second floor and to the bedroom door. Taking the old glass knob in his hand, he turned it and peered into the darkened room.

“Cid?”

“Vincent?”

The voice was coming from their antique four-poster bed with the velvet drapes around it. Vincent stepped into the room and closed the door.

“It’s me.”

“You were right,” groaned Cid. “I should never have let them come here…”

Vincent walked over to the bed, then, reaching up with his right hand, he carefully drew the drapes back. And stared.

Cid was seated on the bed, wearing an old pair of cut-off flannel pyjama pants. For the most part he looked perfectly typical… except for his hair. His shortish sandy mop was a shade of pink that was normally only seen on cotton candy. Long random long tufts of pink and blue and silver and gold and glittering red poked out in all directions, dotted with bows, butterfly clips, and ribbons. His ears were pierced and sporting rhinestone ponies, and on one cheek were the remains of a sparkly butterfly stick-on tattoo. Vincent honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or call a cop. He reached out and tugged at one extension.

“They don’t come out,” said Cid. “I tried.”

“What did they put them in with?”

“Aviation glue.”

“And the earrings?”

“I can’t get a grip on the backs, my fingers are too big.”

Vincent seated himself on the edge of the bed, and reached out to carefully remove the earrings, setting them aside on the nightstand. Then he kissed Cid.

“There. Gone. Though I think a nice gold pirate ring would suit you.”

Cid was not amused. He simply stared at Vincent with mournful blue eyes. “What about the hair extensions?”

“I think the only thing we could go about them is get a pair of scissors.”

“NO! You can’t cut them out! I’ll have bald spots! I’ll have to shave the rest or look like I have a disease! I can’t go around bald! Can’t we bleach them or something?”

“The hair is synthetic, Cid. It won’t bleach, it’ll melt.”

Cid sagged. “And the tattoo?”

“It’ll wear off.”

“I have a ton of work to do today! I promised the new customer I’d have her plane ready to go by this afternoon!”

“Then you should not have let a pack of little girls tackle you and give you a makeover.”

Cid’s eyes darkened, and he seemed to stare into space as he recalled the horror. “There were so many of them, and they were so fast…”

Vincent kissed him. “Well I have a suggestion, if you’re willing to hear me out…”

***---***

Later that day, Cid Highwind was in his usual place in the hangar, his new and more uniform mane of long, randomly-coloured hair tied back into a brilliant rainbow ponytail as he bent over the engine of a small plane. His crew were casting occasional glances at him, but given how volatile Cid could be, none of them mentioned the new ‘do’. Then the customer walked in; a dignified elderly woman, leaning on the arm of her equally dignified son. She was clearly appalled by the flowing day-glo tresses.

“Mr. Highwind!” she said.

Cid looked up. “Hello, Mrs. Barb. Plane’s finished, I’m just cleaning up this one bit here…”

“Whatever happened to your hair?” she demanded.

“This? Oh. Showing support for the local college’s art programme. They’re raising awareness of the importance of the arts in school and gathering donations to help fund them.”

“Oh!” She was clearly delighted by the idea. “What a wonderful concept! I was looking for a new project; I think a fundraiser to support the arts in school is just the thing! Thank you, Mr. Highwind.”

“No problem.” He closed the cowling over the engine. “And your plane is done. C’mon into the office and we’ll settle your bill.”

Cid climbed down from the plane and began walking to his office, Mrs. Barb and her son beside him, a slight and wicked grin on his face. He doubted very much he would be invited to Mrs. Barb’s fundraiser, but maybe he could ask Rufus to get him in. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to see more than a ballroom full of wealthy sophisticates walking around with pony-sparkle-pink hair. Especially when that room included Rufus Shinra.

‘Note to self,’ thought Cid, blue eyes glinting. ‘bring the cell phone with the camera…’