author's note: So, I was trying to write another thing for my 12 days of Yuffentine (because I'm behind on that, and I'm behind on my Sterek one, too) but this came out instead. It may be a bit confusing, but, eh, here ya go.
"Vinnie, how many years have we known each other?" The sing-song voice called out to him, pulling him from his momentary reverie and shoving him roughly into the here and now, which consisted of Yuffie sitting on the counter top of the bar, swinging her legs in time with the faint Christmas music playing from the radio.
A shrug was her only answer, crimson eyes returning to the ceiling as he continued counting the tiles - counting the years he knew her, the years in the coffin, and the years before he was a monster. If she knew of his thoughts, he was entirely sure that she would go off on a rant about how he wasn't a monster and he needed to stop thinking that and he needed to let go; that was harder than she knew, though, and so he learned to stop mentioning his personal opinion of himself.
Jutting her lower lip out in a stubborn pout - a childish action that only she could make seem even remotely attractive, he silently mused - the ninja hopped off her perch on the counter and was suddenly right in front of him, slamming her palms on the table he was at. Eyes widened only slightly as they settled on her, interested in what reaction he had procurred from her now.
"It's been a while, Vince, but you're still all mopey. My amazing ninja-ness should have rubbed off on you by now! What's holding you back?!" Her tone was one of exasperation, but when he sighed softly - forlornly, that's how it sounded to her - Yuffie gritted her teeth, taking it as a silent admittance of what she always assumed. "I thought you were over her, Vince! It's been years since Deepground, since you repented more than is possible for most people! And don't," shoving an angry finger in his face, her stormy eyes had narrowed into a glare that could rival his, "go and say that that's cause you had more to repent for."
With how close she was, Vincent took the moment to take in her expression, from her furrowed brow to her slightly scrunched nose and turned down lips. The anger was expressed so very clearly, but the gunslinger couldn't help but realize that in the years they had known eachother, she had indeed grown from a girl into a young woman, and the young woman was now turning all her wrath upon him. She spoke of a woman that he had once upon a time fallen in love with, of a love that had amounted to sin and regrets, a time that he had pushed behind him; in fact, the reason he had done so was, mostly, due to the encouraging and insisting pushes from the very ninja in front of him.
"Yuffie, I believe you've misread-" He tried to explain himself, lessen the burning gaze that was directed upon him. If he hadn't known better, he may have believed she was mentally skinning him alive, watching him writhe and scream and call out for the one that she mistakenly thought still had his heart; knowing her, she was probably imagining stealing his materia and torturing him with that, instead.
"No, Vincent. I know that look in your eyes, that stupid sigh you think no one can hear but with my great ninja senses," these words, ones that were normally filled with a childlike glee, were filled with spite, "I can hear them. And I'm so sick of you mourning over your long lost love when you need to move on and look at what's been right beside you for years that you haven't even bothered to remember! I thought you were finally, finally getting over that brooding stage. Guess I was wrong."
With those last words, he saw her start to walk away, running a hand through short ebony hair. He didn't move from his seat, for though he wanted to, he couldn't seem to get his muscles to move in the way he wanted them to, nor make his vocal cords work. So he sat, listening to her fading footsteps; except, soon they were returning, and suddenly a gift was tossed down the stairs, wrapped clumsily and with a bow placed on it.
"Christmas Eve, you get to open one gift." And then she was gone as quickly as she had returned, and he was left staring at the present, wondering what it could possibly be. His mind slowly connected to his body once more, allowing the man to move from his seat to the thrown present, bending down to pick it up gingerly between gloved fingers.
With a few delicate cuts with his golden claw, the wrapping paper was on the floor and the box was opened, revealing a mastered Cure materia and a drawing. Gently holding the first, he peered down at the drawing, eyes widening the second time that night as he realized what it was: a picture of him (the stick figure in a red cloak, at least, that he assumed was him) and Yuffie (the stick figure with a large four point shuriken) standing together, and she was giving him something that ridiculously resembled a real heart - of course she wouldn't use the childish, simplified form of the heart, even while the rest of her drawing was childlike in nature.
The words written on it, however, were what gave him the greatest pause. 'Heya Vinnie! I figured I'd actually give ya a real present this year after so long of just pulling Christmas pranks on ya. The Cure is ta remind ya that I'll always be around ta help, whether it be physical or one of your many emotional problems! And, y'know, you can have my heart, too, cause I think you finally got yours back from that stupid scientist woman and two is better than one, right? Cause I wouldn't be foolish enough to ever hope that you'd give yours to me or whatever and- heh, rambling even on paper! Most of this drawing is just my writing, now! I guess I should really stop writing, so Merry Christmas, Vinsters!' It was written so much like her own words (nearing an attempt at nonchalance near the end), and his gaze was stuck on it for some time before finally directing to the stairs.
The words she had spewed at him so viciously moments before clicked into his head, but all he could do was manage a deep chuckle. Foolish. She had been so upset with his quiet longing that she hadn't thought to put together what it was that he wanted: her. His sigh had been not due to the fact that he wasn't over the woman from all those years back, but because he had fallen for another that he (and it seemed the word foolish fit for both of them, at this moment) had assumed would only ever see him as a friend and a man to play pranks on.
Folding the drawing - though really, it was more a letter with a small doodle upon it - and putting that and the materia in his pocket, he headed to bed, mind busily working at what he should do to smooth the situation over.
The next morning, he approached the ninja and kissed her softly for only a second before pulling away, a slight, almost unnoticable smirk on his lips for that moment. "Two may be better than one, but in the case of hearts, mine is not in my possession," the gunslinger informed her, observing her expression as it went from shocked and confused to angry; stopping her as she was about to say something, he continued, "It is in yours."
The force at which she jumped at him was almost enough to knock them to the ground as she kissed him, exclaiming that this was the best Christmas present he had ever given her.