Don't own FFVII. Or any Final Fantasy, for that matter.

So it occurred to me the other day that almost everything I've written lately has been kinda introspective, so I tried to write something with a bit more life this time. It's not great, and I'm not completely happy with it, but I'm happier than I've been with anything else I've posted lately. So here it is. May edit later.

SSS

"Yuffie-" he's known for some time that her curiosity would one day get the better of her, and he tries to stop her, but his body, still readjusting to its human shape after one of Galian's rampages, is slow, and by the time the fingertips of his leather glove touches her skin, she's already nimbly undone the fastenings of his gauntlet and is sliding it down his arm. His other hand drops back to his side and he leans against the wall, watching her warily as she slowly guides the metal casing down. At last, she pulls the gauntlet away and drops it carelessly to the ground at her side. He thinks he should probably be irritated by this, but he is far more worried about her reaction to what was hidden beneath the layer of golden metal to be too worried about her treatment of the armor itself.

She traces two fingers along the myriad of scars that lace his arm from elbow to fingertips, her touch gentle, almost caressing. Her eyes betray no horror, no disgust, and he allows himself to relax a fraction, tilting his head back against the wall and watching her face through half-closed eyes. She cups both hands around his scarred one, gently coaxing him to close his fingers into a fist, and he tries to oblige her, but the last two knuckles in each finger refuse, as always, to bend more than a fraction. Her thumb moves gently over his abused knuckles, feeling the uneven alignment of the bones, and her eyes flick up to meet his.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." he shakes his head a fraction, glancing down at the scars. "Not in years." It hurt like hell when he first awoke, when the wounds were still red and raw. He almost broke his fingers again back then, trying to get them to bend. Sometimes he wonders if it wouldn't have been better if he had.

She turns his hand over to trace the scars across his palm.

"How did it happen?"

"Hojo." At least, he assumes it was. It could have been either of them, Hojo when he was experimenting on him or Lucrecia in her attempts to put him back together; he likes to think it wasn't her, but as he was dead for most of what they did to him, he'll never know.

Yuffie's lip curls back, fingers twining around his ruined palm.

"I'm glad you killed him."

The corner of his mouth quirks slightly, and he lifts their entwined hands to run the tips of his unyielding fingers along her jaw. For a moment, she leans into his touch, and then her face clears, and with a glowing smile she pulls away, tugging at his arm with his gauntlet suddenly dangling from her free hand, though he doesn't recall her picking it up. He pushes away from the wall and holds out his gloved hand for the armor. She hesitates, and he thinks she might refuse to give it up, but then she holds it out, releasing it to his grip a moment before spinning away from him like the child most still think her to be. He watches her dance in the moonlit alley as he slides the golden metal back up his arm, settling it back into place, then steps forward, catching her by the shoulders mid-spin. She smiles up at him, slightly dizzy, and bobs up on her toes to brush a fleeting kiss against his mouth.

SSS

Yeah. Will edit later. Review. No flames. Thanx. ~Seeker