. . . Under Pressure . . .
Quick Note: This is set in my "Myth and Legend" arc, so that means 1. Vincent doesn't turn into monsters at this point 2. Has a prosthetic hand as opposed to a claw 3. And Tifa runs a Children's Home. So these kids aren't theirs exactly. But kinda are.
This is where the reality set in.
One rather loud four year old sat in front of him, and two even louder preteens argued behind him. He didn't want to think about what was going on in the kitchen. He felt trapped enough, claustrophobic nearly, and it still wasn't even close to bedtime.
"Gwen... please, it is alright..." he felt helpless, trying to calm a screaming child. At this exact moment, if Tifa had asked him to go find a WEAPON and kill it, he would happily packed up his rifle and skip all the way there.
Well, that was a wrong image.
He clenched his human hand into a fist. She just wouldn't stop screaming. And the banter from the older children wasn't helping much. His temple throbbed, and he was glad that he no longer had to deal with transforming, thank Tiveph, or the kids would really have something to scream about.
This was absurd. Imagining rampages?
But you promised you would stay... did you? Forgot what came with that contract...
"Oh, Gwenny, what is it?" a calm soft voice spoke from just behind him. The little girl lifted up her arms, ceasing her screaming and simply sniffed a little. He couldn't help but want to do the same thing, for he could recognize that voice anywhere. It was magic, that voice was.
He suppressed the momentary jealousy that rose up in him when she picked up the girl.
"Oh, Vin? Can you listen for the timer on the oven? I'll take over here." She smiled, a tired one, but genuine. They grated on her just the same, even though she loved them, all of them. None of these children were a genetic connection to her... or him for that matter. But that wasn't an issue for her.
Nothing ever seemed an issue for her.
He rose from his crouched position to go sit on the couch... a good place to listen for the timer and collect himself. He always had a paperback stuffed in between the cushions, just in case, and it was handy for the moment. He pulled it out and opened it up... he still had fairly abnormal senses, so any sort of disturbance or soft dinging of a timer would be noticed by him. And he could still react. He relaxed into the couch.
Not two seconds later, he heard a high pitched scream.
He ran over to where he figured it originated, and was more than puzzled at what he saw. Nothing. Just Rinna, sitting down on the floor smiling up at him in that devious Materia theif way that she always did, and the destructive twosome of Jeremy and Kale sitting in a way that formed a triangle.
Something was up.
"Which of you made that noise?" he asked, launching right into the heart of the matter. He could feel Tifa watching from across the room, so he had to do this right. If there was a right. More and more he was beginning to realize that this wasn't the case.
"Noise?" Rinna said, and then something seemed to dawn on her, "Oh... that... well, it was just acting." He blinked. He left the couch for this?
"We're gonna make a movie," Jeremy burst out. He could always be counted on to blurt out the usually devious plans made by his counterpart; the charismatic Kale.
Vincent felt a headache coming on.
"Well, alright... just do not make so much noise." He didn't really know what else to say. Rinna was supposed to be responsible too, she was the oldest at 16. Not an old age, but old enough. At least he thought so.
The three exchanged looks amongst themselves, and then nodded at him. He was wary, but he did want to get back to his book... and that couch was just so comfortable...
You are such a hedonist.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Tifa wasn't watching... and the situation was under control. He gave the trio a warning glance before sliding back over to the couch. He had just opened the book again when another noise assaulted him.
Well, two noises. The jangle of a timer, and rather loud knock on the front door.
He jumped up from the couch and stood for a moment in indecision. Door or oven? What was he supposed to do. He glanced back and forth from the kitchen to the door again, debating in his head, which was beginning to feel a little tight. The headache was coming quicker than he'd thought it would.
A flash of pale and brown and blue made up his mind for him. She was always so quick, so on top of things... so spread thin. Keeping this sort of pace up in life would kill her one of these days...
He didn't want to think about that. Instead, he pulled the bake out of the oven. He wasn't too hungry, he never was, but the kids would like it. The very smell of it would lure most of them.
Once it was safely set on the table, and the oven turned off, he peered past the doorway of the kitchen so he could see who was at the door. He frowned. More stress.
Barret stood there, gesturing wildly, while Marlene bounced around the living room, looking for the couple of kids that she'd made friends with. Who were also for the most part outside. Except Audrey, who she nearly pounced.
He probably wants Tifa to watch Marlene for a few days. I can smell a business trip.
"Listen, Tif, I'm jus' askin fo' a few days... nuthin' else," his deep baritone echoed, "They jus' need me ta do some heavy liftin'... an' I don't want her around tha'." Tifa put her hand on one hip, the other arm being occupied with a babbling four year old. Her hair, shorter now, was frizzed at the ends where it came out of her ponytail. He noticed this, and he knew that Barret was a good man... but why didn't he see that Tifa had plenty to worry about?
"Alright, but only because Marlene's such a good kid," she smiled wanely at him, "But don't miss out on her growing up, ok?" She shook her finger at him in mock warning. He smiled back.
Vincent cleared his throat.
"Hey Vincent, jus' on ma way out," Barret said nervously. He always acted nervous around him. Vincent guessed it was just protectiveness for Tifa; the two had known each other for far longer than he had.
"Take care, Barret," Tifa answered for him, and cast him a look after Barret lumbered out. Great, now she was frustrated at him. Or something.
"Can you set the table while you're in there?" she said rather business-like, "I'll go and round up the ones outside." Four year old still attached to her hip, she made her way to the back of the house. He sighed.
It was not his day.
-----
He couldn't sleep. Tifa had turned in hours ago, but he was still awake, and staring at the ceiling. Of course she could sleep. She certainly wore herself out enough.
So why was he awake?
He sat, up, knowing that lying down wasn't the problem. In fact, he was the problem. He didn't think that everything would be perfect... but he felt just so... inadequate. He could handle the quiet children; they pretty much took care of themselves. But the devious ones? The loud ones? The crybabies? He had violent thoughts sometimes in regards to those.
It did not bode well.
Maybe he should take a walk. Maybe he just had to wear himself out. Maybe... no, he musn't entertain any thoughts of leaving. He promised. And despite everything that surrounded her... he did love her.
That was the solution and the problem.
He found the softer soled shoes in the corner, so he could tiptoe silently. He really didn't want to wake her. And he almost made it to the door before he heard a groggy voice.
"Vin? Where are you going at this time of night?"
Something must have been bothering her too, for she was only a light sleeper when something was on her mind. More complication.
"Just for a walk. Go back to sleep," he whispered, not wanting to alert anyone else who might be sleeping light... anyone else that might be loud and small especially.
She frowned at him. She was feeling stubborn, apparently. He couldn't help but exhale loudly with that.
"Then I'm going with you," she stated, in that tone he found to be both demanding and endearing... there was a fine line with her sometimes. He nodded in assent, not really finding any compelling arguments to the contrary.
She lithely hopped off the bed, putting on some slippers while he waited just outside the door. He led, walking out of the house with an old stealthfulness. It was oddly calming and familiar to be sneaking around. If only he had his shotgun, or even his pistol... he might feel a little better.
Domesticity was wearing him thin.
It was a very dark night; a new moon. Just a little cloudy, with a few stars peeking out. They walked in silence, until they reached a hillside where they could see the far off lights of the city, of New Midgar.
"Are you happy here?" Tifa asked bluntly. He should have felt priveleged to be on the receiving end of her slowly forming boldness... but it just made him wish she were still asleep. Wish that he was just thought of as the quiet creepy man... it was a odd comfort blanket that was denied him now.
He nodded. She gave him a skeptical look and sat down, plopping down tiredly in the grass. She patted the spot next to her and he lowered himself next to her, a foot of space between them.
"I should have expected this..." she said quietly, "...The kids... they're not your thing, are they?" Understandment of the century. He wanted to laugh.
"It is hard for a man to admit when they cannot handle something," he said dryly, fiddling with a blade of grass. She grinned slyly at him, for no reason that he could think of.
"So the great Vincent Valentine has a problem with children..." she murmured, looking up at the sky, "I guess even superheroes have their weaknesses. I'll be sure not to leak this to the press." His first instinct was to be even more frustrated... she was making light of his difficulties. But then, it dawned on him.
It was absurd.
It was then that he relaxed and fell bonelessly into her lap. Sure, it startled her, but that was half the fun. He smirked up at her and settled into a comfortable position.
"And I will make sure they do not hear about your addiction to bad romance novels," he retorted, watching as her eyes grew wide.
"I... I do not read those!" she defended, weakly, "I don't... I don't know where you got that idea." He grinned.
"You cannot hide much from a 'bookworm' as you are fond of saying." She opened and shut her mouth and stared at him, like she was debating yelling at him or tickling him or something far worse.
She settled on changing the subject.
"Well... the kids are a handful, but they all adore you, you know. Especially the boys." She fiddled with his hair, an action that was entirely unconcious. It was relaxing.
"They want to be just like you... especially considering some of them are old enough to figure out the stories." He couldn't help but smile at that. Tifa had always told them stories, usually thinly veiled adaptations of their own experiences. Rarely embellished.
He could think of a better role model, however.
"I miss you." He didn't know why he said that, but the truth of it struck him. He did miss her. Just having... her. Not that he ever did, but sometimes, he just wanted that. It was selfish, but they'd long established that as being core to their natures.
"I know." Simple, clear. It was out in the open, and she wasn't berating him for it. He always admired her patience.
And was she ever comfortable... if only they were on the couch. He could fall asleep like this.
"Do you need to go back to sleep?" he asked, knowing that the nighttime hours would be gone quickly enough. She shook her head.
"I miss you too, you know," she said, a laugh bubbling up from the back of her throat, "Even if you're grouchy most of the time." He raised an eyebrow and sat up slowly. Once he was again taller than her, he mockingly glared down at her.
"I am not." A challenge. She bit her lip and slid a hand at his side.
"Yes, you are quite grouchy sometimes." She wiggled her fingers. He twitched. This was illegal and unfair... he couldn't help that little weakness...
He smirked. He would just have to exploit hers. She was quick and clever... but he was certainly quicker.
And once she was pinned under him, utterly helpless.
"Do you concede?" he asked, a hint of an old arrogance in his voice. She shook her head. He lowered his head until their noses where touching.
"How about now?" He could feel her grin in the small space of air before she kissed him. So she had learned his ploy... clever girl.
It was certainly one of those times that he was glad they lived in the country. Sure, there would be screaming children in the morning. Sure, there would be breakfast cereal that would end up in his hair.
But somehow, this was worth it.
AN: Inspired cause I'm in happy giddy almost married mode, and because I listened to David Bowie music for like four hours straight last night. Thus the title of the story. I promise I'll go back to writing suspenseful stuff soon enough.