Chapter Text
The return of Joshua is an event monumental enough to shift the general attention away from Cid being the man of the hour. Despite Clive’s certainty that Joshua would join them soon, it seemed like people thought he may be deluding himself up until the moment the other Rosfield actually set his foot in the Hideaway again.
Clive is, understandably, fussing over his little brother but the man itself is quick to get back to business. After merely a day of medical checks, reunions (as well as an introduction to Cid), and even a moment of rest, the boy wants to discuss the consequences, next steps, and future plans.
The first few days in the Hideaway were lenient for Cid. He had time to reacquaint himself with the idea of being alive, indulge in spending time with his daughter, and sometimes get caught by Clive before the man was swept away by responsibilities.
Following the Phoenix’s arrival, bigger things are put into motion. Over the next week, Clive drags Cid to all the meetings of the Hideaway’s decisive team – but the old leader rarely has anything to add. He’s still catching up on all the years he’s missed so for him these gatherings function more educationally than anything else. He has barely started to feel comfortable with knowing his way around the new Hideaway but there’s so much that has happened politically in the outside world that he doesn’t have the faintest idea about. So he listens: to the prince’s reports about the sorry state of the Holy Empire, Joshua’s insights on how Ultima’s presence permanently changed the landscape, Jill’s reminders that Rosaria may have a chance to be restored now, and Clive’s insistence that, whatever they do next, the survival of the now magic-deprived Bearers must be the priority.
Cid learns a lot but also keeps getting equally aggravated: not by the others but by his own uselessness. He hides it, of course, he’d rather face Bahamut again than admit that in front of the young Dominants. Nevertheless, it feels like he’s just waiting to be kicked out once the rest realizes he’s offering more quips than substantial contributions.
✧✧✧
“You hoping for some scraps, too?” Charon muses with an unimpressed expression as she looks down on Cid. It’s good to know some things never change.
Cid grunts where he’s sitting on the floor behind Charon’s counter, petting Torgal’s thick fur. He’s grateful he has something to do with his hands, he’s been restless since Tarja has put him on a smoking ban.
“I’m not foolish enough to compete against the beast for a treat,” he quips back but then he nods at the thick book in his lap as if its presence was an explanation in itself. “I’m busy.”
It’s a chronicle he got from Tomes that he hopes is going to fasten the process of his catching up. He is learning a lot but the log is also detailed and massive. He felt discouraged sitting all alone with it in his temporary quarters but also didn’t feel like getting cornered at Mid’s again and accused of hiding. So here he is.
“Busy with what exactly?” she frowns at the chronicle. “You don’t need to know which prince farted a year ago. You were always about instincts.”
“I need to reconvene somehow, I don’t really have a place here anymore, the machine learned to keep going without this rusty cog,” Cid says without really meaning to. He didn’t come here to complain, he really just wanted out of his tiny room. It feels like a coffin. But the grievance is out now and Charon snorts at him.
“Of course you have a place, you idiot, it’s by his side,” Charon announces like it’s the most universal truth of this world, nodding at someone nearby. Cid doesn’t really need to look to know who she means by “his side” but he hasn’t seen Clive at all today and he’s a greedy bastard. He swallows a whine about his old bones as he gets up from the floor and leans on the shop’s counter to look in the direction Charon indicated.
And there he is, Clive talking with Dorys, there’s a soft expression across his features and a patient smile upon his lips. Founder, he has no right to be this gorgeous and kind.
Cid lets out a longing sigh before he can stop himself and Charon murmurs something exasperated under her breath. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know the exact words.
✧✧✧
Yet another leadership meeting leads into a heated discussion between the younger Rosfield and the Dragoon. More than once Cid has to bite his own tongue before chiming in to simply tell the two men to get a room. These discussions are never really vicious arguments, more like an intellectual sparring that’s borderline flirting. And they keep happening.
But Cid never comments – it feels too much like a pot-kettle situation with how Mid keeps implying he should share Clive’s quarters whenever he complains about his current sleeping arrangements. At least for the two young heirs it’s obviously mutual, unlike his own state of affairs, but Cid still restrains himself from uttering any insinuations about Joshua and Dion.
Actively trying to distract himself from the rising tension, Cid’s eyes start to roam around the room. Usually, once his mind wanders in Clive’s study, that distracted journey stops at the crystal pierced by two blades, a keepsake that apparently survived all the years and its troubles. A reminder they’re here for a reason…
Clive seems to seek comfort in it too, fidgeting with it when discussions spiral too much. The motion seems entirely thoughtless, something he must have done hundreds of times, a habit of running his fingers along the dagger’s handle. He’s doing it right now, too.
It’s always Cid’s dagger he reaches for.
✧✧✧
He knows he’s a hypocrite. He’s been avoiding Clive outside of their pre-arranged meetings for days, giving the man an easy out of babysitting the old Outlaw – and now he finds himself deprived of the other man’s presence and attention, seeking him out armed only with a weak excuse.
With complete awareness of the fact and no shame left, Cid knocks on Clive’s door.
“Come in!” the answer comes swiftly but also sounds angry. Maybe this was a bad idea after all… But then, enraged Clive is still a gorgeous Clive, with fire in his eyes and passion leading his every move, so there’s a chance that Cid will get his fix despite the circumstances. If he gets yelled at, well, that’s probably what he deserves.
Cid enters but immediately starts saying: “If this is a bad time, feel free to kick me out, lad. It’s nothing urgent.”
He expected to see the other Dominant at his desk, frowning over some papers, but instead he finds the man on the sofa with his sword in his lap. Clive’s face immediately relaxes into something soft and welcoming once their eyes meet.
“Cid, please, stay,” he offers as a greeting. “What do you need?”
“Nothing urgent, as I mentioned,” Cid repeats, putting the chronicle he brought as an excuse on the nearest surface and turns his whole attention to Clive. “You sounded vexed just now, did something happen?”
Clive exhales deeply and lifts his right hand to show the rag he’s holding and then nods at something laying on the sofa next to him: a bottle of a special mixture from Charon’s store that helps to clean monster blood from metal. Then, Cid notices how the other Dominant is using his necrosed forearm to keep the sword in place – and clearly fails at it.
“Seems like taking care of my own blade is going to be more difficult than running the whole Hideaway nowadays,” he admits, his tone bordering on embarrassment.
Cid’s chest tightens in empathy.
“Well, you’re not running this whole establishment on your own, aren't you?” Cid asks rhetorically and then takes a seat next to Clive. “You don’t need to tackle this alone either,” he continues as he grabs the sword to keep it stable for the other man. “Founder knows it’s the first useful thing I’ll do in weeks.”
Clive simply stares at Cid for a moment, examining and fighting some kind of inner battle. In the end, he just nods and pours some more of the mixture onto the rag. They remain in silence for some time, Clive struggling with a particularly stubborn stain and Cid watching him at work, adjusting his grip if required.
After examining the rest of the blade and humming with satisfaction, Clive puts it to the side.
“Joshua and Dion will probably be setting off to meet with my uncle soon, together they can enact real change out there,” he says, clearly bothered by something still. “But I don’t feel like my own calling changed much, I still want to help our kind directly. Even with aether gone and my brother and others implementing the new ways, there are Bearers who need a place to hide or recover, they won’t be safe overnight. The Hideaway needs to continue for them and I want to focus on that, Otto can’t be left all alone with it.”
Cid observes Clive’s side profile as the man gets lost in his own thoughts, unfocused eyes looking somewhere into the distance. With Joshua staying by the prince’s side for the foreseeable future – and from what Cid observed, it’s not only for political reasons – and Clive busy with being the Outlaw, the beautiful Rosaria is rotting away… Cid’s not sure if it’s reasonable to breach this specific topic but he does feel like a mentor to Clive still, even if the man objectively surpassed him. Old dog with old tricks.
“What of your homeland?” he prompts.
A pained expression crosses Clive’s face. Cid knows there are still things he doesn’t know about Rosaria’s fate in these past years so he’s not sure which memories exactly now haunt the man next to him – but he does know the duchy needs a Rosfield to rule it.
“I may be the firstborn but when Phoenix didn’t claim me, I knew I wouldn't sit on Rosaria’s throne. I’ve known I was not born to rule before I could truly understand what that entailed,” Clive’s tone is forcibly neutral, a defense against the bitter memories of being prematurely deprived of his childhood naivety. “Joshua was being prepared for the ducal life, I was supposed to be his Shield, to protect while in his shadow,” the man sighs deeply. “I’m not sure what the official procedure would be now that there are no Eikons. Does being firstborn take precedence or the Phoenix's choice is still what matters in our generation? Does the existence of another fire Eikon change anything, am I no longer a runt if I was chosen after all? Or does only Phoenix matter since that’s our symbol?”
“What do you want, lad?” Cid diverts. “Disregarding all of the procedures, would you like the throne?”
“I love Rosaria,” Clive preambles. “But I do feel more comfortable protecting from the shadows. I don’t want to abandon my homeland but right now I know my place is here…” he hesitates. “Is that selfish of me? Should I just suck it up and take the throne because that is what’s expected?”
Cid laughs. “Selfish? You?” he shakes his head. “This world has been taking from you for so long, even when you had nothing to give away. And then you still protected it from a heartless god knowing you won’t get any thanks.”
As expected, Clive ducks his head, looking away, uneasy in facing the truth of his nature and any appreciation that comes with it.
“It’s high time you did something selfish,” Cid preaches, then he slightly jabs the other man’s side with his elbow to break the tension. “Please do something just because you want it.”
Clive turns slightly to move his gaze onto the older Dominant and Cid feels a shiver run down his spine under the attention.
“Back there on the boat when we first arrived, you mentioned leaving,” Clive reminisces abruptly and Cid startles at a return to that particular conversation. “If you wanted to leave… I don’t want you to feel compelled to stay here now that you’re back and the world has changed so much. No one would hold it against you if––” he stops when Cid puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, which is exactly what the older Dominant wanted to achieve.
“I don’t want to leave, Clive,” he ensures before the topic goes any further. “You achieved more than I could ever hope for for my foolish dream but we always knew that toppling the status quo would bring upon consequences that would have to be dealt with, if we were still here to suffer them. Somehow, we are still here. I’m staying to continue the work.”
I mentioned leaving because I was afraid it would be held against me that I wasn’t here for so long, is what Cid doesn’t say. I’m staying because you and Mid are here and you keep me going, is what Cid keeps hidden away in his chest alongside his tired heart.
“As long as you’ll have me, I’m by your side, lad,” Cid seals the deal. “I just hope I can be of use to you.”
Clive shakes his head while an incredulous laugh escapes his mouth.
“I don’t need you to be useful, I just… want you to stay.”
Suddenly, Cid realizes how snuggly they’re sitting. Sometime along their conversation, they’ve both leaned towards each other, like flowers tilting towards the sun. Clive’s eyes are very blue and fixed on him and so very close.
For a moment, Cid stops breathing, as if that could stop time too, prolong it – whatever this is. Because he is overwhelmed with the desire to close the distance altogether, lock his lips with Clives’s. But this can’t be what’s happening for the other man too.
Then, Clive’s gaze drops to Cid’s mouth, and right back up, meeting his stare again.
Founder help him, Cid is about to do something very idiotic that may end up with him being kicked out after all––
Then, the chamber door clatter loudly as Gav runs inside and both Dominants jump away from each other. The scout is so preoccupied by his current objective that he doesn’t seem to notice that anything unusual was afoot.
“There’s been a messenger from Eastpool, Wade says they really need you and Joshua there,” Gav’s voice betrays a gravity that Cid is sure was present in the original message. “They can’t say what it is but it’s very urgent.”
A shadow of reluctance crosses the blue eyes but then Clive nods. “Alright,” he says. “Could you inform my brother of the same and tell him to meet me by the lift?”
“Sure thing, Cid,” he says. It takes a full second before a struck expression appears on his face and he looks to his old leader. “I’m bloody sorry, it’s just—“
Cid waves him off. “It’s fine, Gav, go off and stop being dramatic.”
Clive snorts once their beloved scout dashes out of the room.
“I should––” Clive gets up but lingers by the sofa.
“I’ll be here when you return,” Cid reminds. Promises.
✧✧✧
With both Clive and Gav gone, Cid discovers that people flock to him with questions and Hideaway’s issues. It’s natural to fall back into the role… He finds himself questioning it only once he’s in the oppressive silence of his coffin-like quarters and doubt about his post-death competency creeps back in while he tries to fall asleep. But then, dawn breaks and he is swept away by the work. There are still matters that need to be transferred to Otto or Mid because Cid simply doesn't have a clue about the current procedure. But most of the time – when the concerns are local to the Hideaway and not Empire-level political struggles – Cid ascertains that he’s still got it. And even back in his Hideaway, he was delegating too, that's just how good leadership works.
So, maybe he was a bit dramatic about his uselessness after his return. But he’s old and actually died once already so maybe he deserves to be dramatic, just a little bit.
Being busy again feels great.
The complication starts whenever he’s not piled with tasks. When he actually gets a breather and gets to sit down in the Fat Chocobo with some ale and realization hits him that it’s been days since the Rosfields left and he misses Clive like a limb. It’s a bittersweet feeling to be so pathetically miserable while rediscovering one’s calling.
Like right now, when he’s currently waiting for Mid to meet him for dinner – the little genius probably got lost in another project, he’ll give her another half an hour before invading the workshop. But tonight Cid doesn’t get to wallow in solitude for too long because unexpectedly the prince of Sanbreque himself joins him. He doesn’t announce himself, his Dragoon training making his movements silent and stealthy, and simply sits down at Cid’s table as if it was normal for them to hang out.
“Any news on Phoenix and Ifrit?” he asks without preamble. He acts nonchalant but Cid can imagine the prince is feeling the same restlessness as he does; Dion can no longer pretend he doesn’t miss Joshua since he has just stooped low enough to ask first about the brothers’ status.
“None of the scouts have returned from Eastpool yet,” Cid grumbles, only partially successful in hiding his own displeasure about the fact. Dion nods solemnly.
They sit in silence for some more time, staring into the distance.
Cid’s military training is the only thing that stops him from falling off his chair when suddenly someone slaps his shoulder. He turns around to see his daughter with a smile that foreshadows mischief.
“Is it required to be pining over a Rosfield or can I just sit down at the table without joining the club?”
“Midadol Telamon!” Cid gasps. Before he can continue his scolding, the prince abruptly stands up.
“Apologies, I forgot I had prior arrangements,” he nods at Mid in a parting gesture then turns his gaze towards Cid. “Keep me posted, Outlaw.”
But before the man can flee, another person joins their little party.
“Oh, good, you’ve both here,” freshly arrived Gav smiles upon seeing Cid and Dion together. “That saves me a trip.”
“What news?” the prince queries, demanding in a casual way of a commanding officer.
In response, the scout takes a gander around Fat Chocobo and nods meaningfully towards Clive’s study.
Mid sighs in understanding as she plops onto the nearest chair and promises Cid to order something disgusting for his dinner while she waits for him to return. Cid simply salutes her and then the three men pretend to not be in a rush as they walk to a more private location.
“Come on, spill it, lad,” Cid prods the moment the doors to Clive’s quarters shut behind them.
Gav swallows, suddenly nervous.
“I don’t know how to…” he stumbles around the words as he scratches his neck. “Ah, blast it! Elwin Rosfield is alive.”
It’s one of the last things Cid has expected to be updated on.
“The Elwin Rosfield. Clive’s father,” Cid double-checks.
“Yeah, it’s him as I live and breathe, I’ve seen him with my own eyes! Well, eye,” Gav confirms. “I guess you’re not the only one who returned from the dead.”
Cid would really love a cigar right about now.
What does it all mean?
✧✧✧
The brothers arrive back at the Hideaway three days later.
After checking on most urgent matters, Clive drags Cid into his room for a meeting, just the two of them. Cid allows himself to simply enjoy the man’s presence and undivided attention without overthinking it – it makes sense the other Dominant wants to be properly updated by his impromptu substitute.
However, Clive doesn’t brief him on the Cursebreakers’ new training or the status of the mission to Dhalemekia. Instead of going over the papers piling on the desk, Clive invites him back to the sofa and simply opens up about seeing his father. Cid is taken aback just for an instant but then it’s easier than breathing to just be there for Clive. Not as the other Outlaw, but a friend.
He feels positively intoxicated by Clive’s grin, the mirth glistening in the blue eyes.
Back then, before Drake’s Head, Clive was bound by revenge, seeking to end his destructive quest one way or the other. Cid could see the caring man buried underneath the trauma and that warmth was just starting to be unearthed when Clive decided to truly join the cause. Now, years later, his smiles are genuine and more radiant than Cid could've anticipated. He is still broken; men like them can never truly mend the cracks but they can be put back together to shine once more, in a new form, damaged but whole. And Clive is radiant in moments like this, ablaze even without his Eikon’s fire.
Cid soaks in the warmth greedily. Before his death, he was all too aware how affected he was by Clive. How he wanted to drag the furious lord into his bed and make him forget his pain for a little while. How he sought out reasons for shared missions, his neediness cloaked by japes and quips. How he simply wanted to see the lad rise above his circumstances…
He was old enough to know when he’s being foolish.
Back then, he fully dedicated the remains of his life to leaving the world a little better than the mess he helped create in his years as Waloed’s Lord Commander. Clive dared to make him wish for more, to want to see for himself how the other Dominant changed and grew, and how their bond could change and grow in parallel. But he never got to. Now, Cid returned to a man already transformed – and his own feelings only turned meaner in their intensity.
At least, he’s got this. After all, tonight, out of the whole Hideaway, Clive still wanted to share his warmth with his old mentor.
“It still feels unreal,” Clive shakes his head in disbelief.
“It must have been quite a fright for him, too, to see his boys all grown-up,” Cid muses as he reminisces on his reunion with Midadol and he needs to clear his throat under the sudden onslaught of emotions. “Not so scrawny anymore,” he teases to keep the mood on the positive side “And an outlaw on top of that. The Outlaw.”
With an embarrassed smile across his lips, Clive rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “That was indeed an interesting conversation,” he admits. “But he understood our mission.”
“I remember Archduke Elwin always treated Bearers fairly.”
“And he wants to continue that,” Clive fills in. “The Hideaway is at its capacity but soon we will be able to send the Bearers who are eager to build their new future right there to Rosaria. We’ll still be the haven for those who want to stay away from the rest of the world. But for those open to change and more independence, there’s space out there.”
Cid nods, taking it in.
“So I guess the conundrum of the ducal throne is resolved,” he realizes out loud.
Clive nods. “My father will return as the Archduke… Rosaria won’t be abandoned and, at least for some time, Joshua and I are free to pursue our own goals.”
“I really am glad for you,” Cid says as he lifts his hand to offer a quick squeeze of support to the other Dominant’s shoulder.
A comfortable silence falls between them for a moment as they ponder the unthinkable current state of things. But Cid’s gaze never wanders far from Clive if they’re in the same room and inevitably he steals a glance at the other man. He seems to be readying himself to breach another topic and Cid gives him the space to do so.
“With my father back… I think I finally know what happened,” Clive says but he’s visibly nervous. Cid feels a tang of stress rising in him in tandem. After everything, what is there for Clive to be nervous about? “I think I know how you came back.”
That announcement Cid did not expect. He startles but composes himself quickly.
“I’m all ears cause I still have no bloody clue.”
“After I defeated Ultima and absorbed their power,” Clive’s eyes instinctively dart to his left hand. “When I was kneeling over Joshua’s dead body, I… I was focusing so much on how I can’t lose my brother again, I was flooded with memories of our time together, I kept thinking of all the most important people in my life that I’ve lost. How I can’t bear to lose him again. I kept thinking of Joshua, of my father, and… And of you, Cid.”
It’s not often that Cid finds himself at a loss for words but he is now. He knew he wasn’t insignificant to Clive, he was there when the other man was going through the discovery of his Eikon, Cid burdened him with continuing his legacy of the Outlaw. He definitely left a mark on Clive Rosfield’s life. But to be put up there with people Clive loves most?
“I saw my brother’s wounds healing with my own eyes, I felt him take a breath once more, and I knew with Ultima’s power in my hands I did the impossible and brought him back. What I didn’t realise was that my power at that moment was more vast than I could comprehend. Somehow, I brought the other two people I thought of back, without being aware of it.”
“Your father––”
“And you,” Clive finishes for him.
It feels monumental. Yet so simple. Clive cares so much, of course with the power of gods in his hands he would––
Cid’s heart is pounding in his ears as he stares at the man in front of him in pure wonder.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated to me in any way, for anything you could think of,” Clive adds as if he was aware that Cid has a list of things he knows he could never repay the other Dominant for. “I don’t expect anything from you, I want you to live a life your way. It’s what we’ve been fighting for all along,”
Still speechless, Cid simply nods.
Then Clive takes a deep breath as if he was bracing for something and Cid can’t imagine what other revelation could make him uneasy after this epiphany.
“But I can’t ignore the fact that I was given a second chance here so I have to take it and at least try.”
Cid can’t help but just listen, still struck by astonishment, as Clive continues.
“All this time you were gone, I could never move on from losing you,” Clive confesses. “As a mentor but also as a person that I never managed to say––” Clive looks into his eyes and holds the gaze. “I want to be with you in every sense of the word. As your protégé, a partner in crime, a friend, a confidante… A lover if you will allow it.”
“Clive––“ Cid’s breathless for a moment, wondering how to even come close to expressing everything he’s feeling about the impossible man in front of him. He can’t stand the empty silence as the words are yet to come so he shrinks the distance between them, lifts his hand to stroke his fingers alongside Clive’s jaw, then dares to brush the inviting lower lip with his thumb. “If I’m really what you want to settle for,” he finally speaks when he realises he’ll probably never be able to properly express himself anyway.
“You’re the one who told me to be selfish,” Clive retorts, his humour careful. “This is what I want. For myself.”
“I do give excellent advice,” Cid smirks but the lad just keeps looking at him, waiting.
Ah, yes. Cid still didn’t give a proper reply. He shakes his head with amusement – as if there could be any other answer than a desperate “yes” – and his hand falls to Clive’s chest where it stays, spread flat against the man’s heart.
“I’ve been failing miserably at stopping myself from falling for you anyway, even death didn’t help.”
Clive’s eyes widen in shock at first but then he chuckles with a resigned tone to it. “For all your affinity for shortcuts, you can never speak straight to the point, do you?”
“It’s part of my charm,” he shrugs. “And it seems to be working on you.”
“Oh, shut it.”
“You’re free to make me,” Cid retorts and within the next heartbeat there are lips on his.
The kiss starts off restrained, as if Clive was still doubting he’s not going to get punched for it. But once Cid responds, unable to stop himself from pouring all the pent up want into it, the other man lets out a sound akin to a wounded animal's growl. Cid swallows it eagerly and doesn’t hesitate to lick into Clive’s mouth, deepening the kiss all too quick. But Clive doesn’t seem to mind, matching the passion by moving to climb into Cid’s lap.
Cid welcomes the change of position with a low, satisfied groan. He grabs the other man’s sinful waist, rubbing along his sides and hips. Clive’s necrosed arm rests upon Cid’s chest while his right hand slides to the back of the older Dominant’s neck, brushing through the short hair in a repeating motion.
“Even without Ramuh, you still smell like air after the storm,” Clive murmurs as he nuzzles Cid’s throat. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”
“I’m here, darling,” Cid’s hold tightens at the words. “All yours.”
Clive whimpers breathily and Cid feels teeth scraping against the skin of his neck but before he can comment on that, his lips are once more occupied with things much more pleasurable than talking.
Again, their kiss swiftly turns into a vehement affair, hungry and messy, the hand previously stroking Cid’s hair now grabbing at the back of his neck, scratching as if Clive couldn’t get close enough. He starts writhing in Cid’s lap and it’s not long before the motion leads to him rolling his hips boldly enough to rub their clothed cocks together, eliciting a groan out of both of them.
But before all their cognitive functions get overflooded with lust, Cid has one more thing he needs to clear up. He gives one last nib to Clive’s lower lip and then creates enough space between them so they can look into each other’s eyes.
“Cid?” the other Dominant pants, his eyes are dark with desire and Cid is stunned by the man’s beauty anew.
“Before we start losing garments, I need to say something. Without shortcuts,” Cid explains and only once Clive nods in understanding and their gazes are fixed on each other, he continues. “I love you, Clive Rosfield,” Cid says reverently and Clive’s whole body shudders as the words reverberate in the space between their pounding hearts.
Clive closes his eyes and takes a deep breath but remains tense under Cid’s hands. After a lingering moment and a careful exhale, his eyes flutter open and he finally relaxes.
”It’s not an illusion, you’re really here,” he utters with relief.
”I am, darling. And I love you.”
The hand that’s been clawing at Cid’s neck moves to gently cup his jaw. Clive’s mouth curves into a shaky smile and his eyes are fixed on his own thumb caressing along the older Dominant’s beard, as if he was avoiding locking eyes with Cid as he processes the confession.
“When I asked,” Clive says carefully. “I thought you’d maybe agree to sex, at least I hoped so after we almost kissed before my departure. But I didn’t expect you––”
“Clive,” Cid calls softly but it’s enough to interrupt and bring the man’s gaze up so the blue meets green again. “You’ve brought me back to life with divine power, you continued my work when I was gone… But I need you to know you’ve claimed a place in my heart back when you were still a vengeful deserter. I’d take every version of you.”
In response, Clive’s breath hitches and he abruptly leans in to leave a brief but forceful kiss against Cid’s lips. Then he lets their foreheads touch in an intimate gesture, his hand still brushing the older Dominant’s jaw.
“I love you too,” Clive professes. Everything else Clive has said about his feelings until this moment has already been carved into Cid’s ribcage but hearing these four words, direct and undeniable, still sends a shock through him, as if there was levin back in his veins. The hands he’s still resting over Clive’s hips tighten possessively.
Suddenly, Clive lets out a giggle with a delirious echo to it. “Last time I’ve said it I was yelling at your grave.”
“Darling––” Cid jumps in, ready to comfort the other man, but he doesn’t get to.
“No,” Clive shakes his head, disrupting the position of their joint foreheads. “Let’s not talk about that right now. I don’t want to.” He dives in for a kiss instead, hungry once more. “I want to enjoy this. You.”
It’s easy to slide right back into the passion, their lips fitting against each other perfectly. Desire blooms between them anew but it all tastes even better now that they both know it’s much more than that.
“Take me to bed,” Clive demands, thrusting his hips again and Cid grinds his teeth to stop himself from whining. It’s been a while and the other Dominant may have deprived them of aether, but in these matters, he is magically making this old man feel like a horny teenager again.
”Mine or yours?” Cid can’t help but quip instead of getting to action, just to see Clive scrunch up his nose in that cute way of his. “Mine may be a bit small for these broad shoulders, though,” he continues the teasing as he moves his hands to appreciatively wrap them around the other man’s biceps.
Clive leans in, brushing his lips against Cid’s ear, and weaponises that raspy voice to make the older Dominant shudder when he says: “Our bed, Cid. Right here.”
”Yes, my lordship.”
“You’re unreformable, good thing you’re handsome.”
“I just wish to inspire you to consider all the ways to shut me up.”
✧✧✧
The discovery that there’s yet another Rosfield alive threw their planned timeline way off so it’s already the next day when Joshua and Dion announce they’ve been delayed enough. They’re finally taking off, invigorated by the new reality and eager to make it even better.
A small crowd gathers by the lift to see them off. They’re not leaving towards a life-threatening fight or for a journey that may lead to no return, but still there’s a common feeling that this is an important moment. That this day will go down in history as the beginning of another shift in the world – and people want to be witness to that.
Cid observes from the side as the brothers ready themselves for parting, affection stirring in his chest. It’s hard to stop himself from comparing this Clive, loved and accomplished, with the angry Branded he first met… It truly fills him with hope for their future.
A sudden presence settles next to him and, even without their Eikons, it still feels like there’s a little bit of a cold draft whenever Jill is close. She regards the Rosfields fondly for a moment as well but then, without changing her stance and her eyes still fixed ahead, she speaks to Cid.
“I’m glad you two finally stopped being foolish,” she says matter-of-factly and before Cid can make a deflective joke out of it, she continues sternly. “I may be without Shiva anymore but I will still make you regret it if you break his heart.”
“If I do, please don’t hesitate to follow through on that,” Cid agrees.
He sees her small smirk from the corner of his eye.
“I’m glad we concur.”
With that, she steps away from him and joins the brothers, bidding her own goodbye to Joshua.
It’s good to know that with the Phoenix's departure, Clive still has a sister looking out for him in the Hideaway.
✧✧✧
Cid stands before a choice: offering immense amusement to his daughter or saving a bit of his own dignity. He ponders the dilemma for a full second before deciding on the former.
When he walks into Mid’s workshop, he finds the girl completely engrossed by the new project for the botanists, which is exactly what he expected. She wasn’t there to see Joshua and Dion off but no one really expected her to, Mid’s focus is well-known. It doesn’t help that she inherited Cid’s workaholism even without sharing his blood.
She doesn’t notice him at first and Cid takes a moment to simply watch her in her element, lets the pride swell in his chest. Only once she blindly reaches for a wrench and misses grabbing it three times in a row, he grabs the tool for her and hands it over.
“What––” she murmurs at first, confused by the equipment jumping into her grasp, and then finally turns around.
“Dad!” she grins. “Didn’t see you there.”
“One day we’ll get here and move the whole workshop around you, rotate it by ninety degrees while you’re working in the centre, and then we’ll take bets on how long it’ll take for you to notice,” he teases, spinning out the scenario with a smirk. Mid smacks his arm lightly with the wrench he handed her.
“Oi!” is all she says to rebuke the idea. “What brings you here?”
Informing his daughter about his new relationship status could be a profound moment, he could sit her down and speak of the great, freshly discovered love between Clive and him. But he already decided to go for the amusing option, one that will align perfectly with Mid’s previous pestering. So he simply smiles and asks:
“Want to help me move my things to Clive’s quarters?”
Mid squeals in joy, lifting the wrench into the air like a trophy.
“Finally!” she exclaims but then suddenly sobers, squints his eyes at Cid. “But you are sharing his bed? It’s not just him taking pity on you because of that tiny room and lending you his couch?”
Cid laughs. Touché.
“Yes, you can start calling Clive ‘father’ if you want to piss him off.”
Mid laughs and he sees that glint in her eyes that promises future shenanigans. But when she puts down the wrench and takes off her leather apron to join Cid by his side, her stare is something softer, fond.
“I really am happy for you,” she gives Cid a brief hug. “Now let’s go move your three whole possessions to your new room!”
✧✧✧
Cid stares at Clive’s wall of trophies and sentimental gifts, his eyes travelling from one item to the next, taking in the details. Some don’t hold any meaning to him but some wouldn’t be out of place in his old solar. It’s not that difficult to start thinking of this space as his.
The doors open and Clive walks in, his lips curving into a warm smile immediately after spotting the other man. He looks around and notices Cid’s swords resting by the foot of the bed and nods in approval.
“All moved in?”
“Didn’t have much,” Cid shrugs. Mostly his weapons, a couple of pieces of clothing Charon provided him with, a few trinkets that old friends gave him after his return, and that damned chronicle borrowed from Tomes. “I won’t take away much of your space.”
“Our space,” Clive corrects him again.
“You won’t be saying that when you get tired of me in a week.”
Cid aimed for a joke but instead of going with it, Clive comes close and wraps his arms around the other man. With Cid’s back flushed against his chest, he sighs contentedly and rests his chin on his partner’s shoulder.
“I won’t get tired of you,” he says solemnly but then his voice turns more playful after all. “At least not in a week. You’ve got six years of annoying me to catch up on first.”
With a chuckle, Cid puts his hands over Clive’s, ensuring the embrace continues.
“And if you do vex me, there are ways to make it up to me before I think to kick you out,” Clive declares and he leaves a meaningful kiss on his partner’s neck.
“Ay, that’s true,” Cid agrees. Their tumble in the sheets yesterday was marvelous but left him very much hungry for more. More Clive, more ways to show him how much Cid wants him, more ways to daze his partner with enough pleasure he’d forget about all his responsibilities.
But it’s not just sex. Everything to do with this impossible man, Cid wants more of.
Inconceivably, they do have a chance for just that.
With Clive’s arms wrapped around him, Cid feels grounded in a way he didn’t think achievable for himself anymore. Exactly where he needs and wants to be.
“It’s good to be back,” Cid murmurs. “Good to be home.”