AN: Well, hello there FFVII fandom of 0: It's my first time posting a Yuffentine here, but I hope you like it. If you do, always know that I'm more likely to post my works at my website rather than here. ;D Just in case you, y'know, really liked it and wanted to see more. XD This is also actually the sequel of a story, one I haven't bothered to put up on here. You can find it and the original of this at my website. A big thank you to foxygirlchan for betaing this. -hugs- Love ya foxy! ;P

Disclaimer: If I had owned FFVII, Vincent would have stopped being angsty already. He would also be with Yuffie. Yeah. XD

Now, enjoy and read the story!

My Poor, Poor Clothes

Vincent groaned upon entering his temporary room in Midgar. It was the fifth time this week. How could it keep happening? He locked his room all the time, so the one to do must have been some kind of well-trained thief.

A certain ninja came to mind, but he always dismissed the thought. Why would she be ruining his clothing?

For the past week or so, whenever the ex-Turk entered his room, he would always find some article of clothing slightly vandalized. Today, it was one of his trademark red cloaks.

Well, Vincent couldn't be wearing the exact same articles of clothing everyday, could he? That would be highly unsanitary, so he had multiple copies of the exact same cloak. Sometimes, he understood why Yuffie liked to tease him about his choice of clothing. She herself changed from time to time.

Picking up his cape, he inspected it with a keen eye. What had happened this time? His blood-red eyes trailed upon the left of the cloak, sighting various paint spots, before sliding to the right, then to the bottom where he found the most paint. Apparently, the perpetrator had taken it upon themselves to throw some neon purple paint onto his cloak. From what he could tell, the paint had bled through the fabric, making him fairly sure that it was permanent. He to a slight whiff of the paint, and cringed at the smell. Alcohol. His cloak was definitely ruined.

With a sigh, Vincent threw the cloak back onto a chair currently situated at the top right of the room, where a pile of vandalized clothing was steadily growing. Poking through the newly added cloak was a pair of his black pants, shrunken to the size of toddler diapers from being carelessly thrown into the washing machine which had hot water, something the pants label had said to not do. Along with that, there were a few shirts, all with various holes through them from being burnt with the use of a Fire 3 materia. He nearly felt sorry for the shirts; if they had voices, he was sure that they would have been screaming in pain from the agony of being burnt alive.

Smooth, flowing steps led him to his bedside. He sat down, arms leaning on his lap as he closed his eyes, trying to think of anyone who would want to do this. Minutes passed, but no one could be thought of. He was fairly certain that there were no other enemies that would target him, and the only other person who could have broken through his door locks would have to be Yuffie, but why would she? It didn't make sense. Still, his mind recollected through their encounters, trying to find anything that showed some sort of dislike towards him or his clothing. There were times where he would catch her looking at him, but when he turned to look back at her, she would turn away. Perhaps she was plotting something? No, Yuffie didn't seem like the type to…plot. She seemed more of an "act without thinking" kind of person.

Vincent let out another sigh, unable to find his answer. He stood up and headed outside once again for a mission from Reeve. As he closed the door, he set up another three locks, creating a grand total of seven locks on the outside of his door alone, with another four on the inside. It was annoying him that his clothes were getting repeatedly destroyed and that he was wasting money on "full-proof" locks that always failed. With the final click, he set off to Reeve's office.

He vaguely wondered if the room cameras were on and if not, he would have to ask Reeve about that.

000

As the door gave a final click, Yuffie dropped gently from the room's air vents, landing with a silent drop. She looked around, grinning wickedly as she sighted the tarnished cloak joining the other vandalized pieces and another new article of his clothing. It was a spare gun belt of Vincent's, one of finely made leather, the only damage being that it was slightly tarnished with age, but still in good shape. She snorted. It seemed that their little vampire man liked to keep his clothes clean.

How ironic, considering he spent some thirty years trapped in a coffin.

The young ninja girl walked over to Vincent's bed and landed with a soft plop. Her finger went to her chin where it started tapping, trying to think of what she could do to his clothing this time around. Burning was out of the question, as she had done it to three of his shirts, and so was washing and painting, her latest methods of destruction. Suddenly, an idea hit her, and she struck her fist in her palm, delighted at the new thought. She could use her Conformer and tear his belt up a little! For all Vinnie would know, the "thief" could have pulled out a pocket knife. It was brilliant!

With the skill of a master, Yuffie pulled on a pair of gloves before picking up the leather gun belt. She didn't want to take any chances of getting caught. Then, with her Conformer in hand, the Wutainese girl began making small rips and tears throughout the belt. After five minutes of careful cutting, she inspected her work. As always, it looked damaged beyond repair.

With the task done, she threw the belt onto the bed and headed for the door. She loved to mess with the locks since she knew that it frustrated her dear Vinnie, especially since she didn't even use the door. A few flicks of her wrist, a twirl of her fingers, and she was done with all of the locks. Another wicked little smile spread across her face as she placed the oversized shuriken on her back and jumped back into the air vent, carefully placing the screen right back where it was, thankful for what seemed like the one-hundredth time that year that the room had a rather large vent, almost big enough to fit Barret inside.

As she crawled back through the vents to her own room, Yuffie let out a maniacal cackle. Oh, how she was enjoying her revenge. The bastard deserved it for casting some sort of spell on her anyways, one which she still had not found an antidote for. Besides, with all of the vandalism she was committing, it stretched out her thinking power a bit with exactly how she would ruin the ex-Turk's day.

Ah, how she waited for the next day when Vincent would look mildly aggravated as he came in to check on missions with Reeve. It was payback to a whole new level.