Disclaimer: Pfft. As if I could own the franchise. I just leech off the creators' brainchild.
A/N: You have stumbled upon my Yuffentine. I have no idea where it came from, but it just popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone, so you get this. It is odd, it is funny, and it is fluffy. Or at least I tried to make it that way. Decide for yourselves if I've done my job and not butchered the FFVII fandom, yes?
And many thanks to La Editor (who is Yuffentine personified and a much better writer than I will ever be) for being graceful enough to beta-read my crap. Her insight made me confident that I totally nailed Yuffie's character. So awesome beta she is.
Mister Emo
See, the thing about Vincent is, he's like emo on a stick.
It's something I've noticed after palling around with him and being dragged up and down the Planet for so long. He's got this whole 'I'm-so-badass-I-don't-have-to-acknowledge-it-because-you-will' thing going on. Seriously. Sometimes I can't help but think he'd be the perfect main character in a gunslinger film. He's got the super aloof aura, the twisted past, and those dark mysterious eyes.
And nothing screams sexy like eyes burning with the horrors of a twisted past. Rrrawr.
Not that I find Vincent sexy, because I totally don't. He's all pale, and broody, and frowny, and... no. A match Yuffie Kisaragi and Vincent Valentine do not make. I'm the brightest ray of sunshine the Planet has ever seen, and he's just Mister Emo. I even told him so, too.
"Hey, Vinnie," I said, as we lurked on top of one of Kalm's inns (because that was all he ever did and because I was definitely not staying in Wutai with that crazy old man). I saw him give me a furtive look out of the corner of his eye.
"...Yes, Yuffie?" And there was, like, no emotion behind it. Not that it put a damper on me, because I'm impervious to his fits of lameness.
"I've been thinking," I told him, and I pulled me knees a bit more tightly against my chest, "you need a new name. Vincent Valentine doesn't cut it anymore."
"...Yuffie..."
"No, no, listen, it's important!" I saw his shoulders slump a little before he shrugged. Yes: Yuffie is denied nothing. "See, I've noticed that you've got this 'mystery man' thing working for you. Like, your eyes are red, and you have a gold claw. Not to mention your cape does does this flitty thing that makes it look all scratchy and stuff, even though I bet it feels like plush." He blinked slowly as I gathered my breath. "You need a new label to capture your awesome, so I was thinking Mister Emo."
"...Mister Emo?"
"Yeah, for all the dark, scary gloom-and-doom stuffs." The fact that Vincent paused long enough to think it over was either a sign of my greatest accomplishment or ultimate failure.
"...Yuffie, I'd rather not be named anything else other than Vincent Valentine."
"Really?" I pushed.
"Yes."
"For sure?"
"Fairly."
"Absolutely-positively?"
"Yuffie..."
"Okay, okay, Mister Emo. Don't get your cape in a bunch."
"Thank you."
So I told him I'd lay off giving him new titles, but I totally wasn't, because the title of Mister Emo just belonged to him.
"C'mon, Vinnie!"
"Yuffie, no."
"Oh gawd, you're so lame sometimes!" I couldn't help but pout. And besides, it was true.
We were digging around the Great Glacier, because President Looney-Bin, the man possessing a twelfth level intellect, the benevolent tyrant Reeve Tuesti himself, had ordered us, as WRO operatives, to go poking around caves.
Kidding, kidding. Mostly.
Apparently, King Cautious-Paranoia wanted to make sure Shinra had kept its grubby little hands away from anything the Planet had little stock of, so voila: Vincent and Yuffie get screwed with reconnaissance in the dead of the night. Oh joy.
Being the clever ninja I am, I decided it was the perfect time to corner Vincent and launch my second assault. Of course, Vincent was being all...Vincent-y.
"What do you have against it, Vinnie? Just admit you are, just once, and I'll never bring it up again!" My breath came out like little puffs of cotton that floated softly on the air before breaking up and whooshing away like autumn leaves.
"We should stop here. It'll get cold soon." Aaaaand he totally blew me off. I wanted to grab him by his cloak and kick him, but he graciously dismissed himself from my intimidating presence. ("I'll go look for some wood for the fire.") Then he walked off in his awkward penguin boots.
I, on the other hand, made finding a suitable cave my top priority, because I was not spending the night in a cave filled with gross poop. It didn't take long, because my scouting abilities were unparalleled. Vincent came along with the firewood, and one Fire materia later, we had a crackling fire.
The last time we were here, we were busy wandering around like lost monkeys and totally passed out in the snow, all sniffles and sneezes and thumping headaches. If we had found a cave... well, we—they—were stupider then, so there was no point in looking back.
I looked around the cave and took in the harsh, rocky wall, all jagged edges and sharp points. I sucked in a breath at the frozen icicles hanging from the ceiling, because they were beautiful and glittered like a rainbow and shone like the sun when I squinted. My eyes bounced from grey rock to white ice, from crackling fire to red cowl–
The weird thing is, I've never actually got to touch Vincent's cloak. I mean, it's brushed against me a few times, but I've never had the chance to sit down and really feel it.
"Hey, Vinnie?" I saw the scarlet eyes flicker up at me from across the fire. "Can I feel your cape?"
If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He just kind of gazed off into the fire for a minute. I was thinking about poking him because of how still he was, but then he nodded.
I scooted over from my side of the fire and plopped down next to him. I didn't know what the big deal was, because it was just a cape, but that fact that Vincent Valentine was allowing me to touch his red, unwashed, legendary mantle seemed like a magnanimous act from Leviathan itself.
I picked up the tail and ran my fingers over the fabric, against the rough worn fibers, and smiled. I wanted to wrap it around me, maybe flash my imaginary fangs and yell, "I vant to suck your blood!" just because I could. But Vincent wouldn't get it. He'd just sit there staring at me and blinking slowly, because he's just weird like that.
"So this is the cape that makes the emo."
"Yuffi—"
"I know, I know."
And I really did.
It was kind of weird just sitting there in silence, listening to the fire crackle and groping on a dead guy's cape, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it. It was... nice. I looked up at Vincent, and I saw the dark eyes peering back at me, illuminated like big, golden, red-rimmed marbles by the fire. I don't really know why I asked him what I did, but I did.
"Do you ever wish it never happened?" I didn't mean for it to end up so loud, but I just kind of blurted it out. Vincent cocked an eyebrow.
"Wish what never happened?"
"You know, this." I looked him up and down to emphasize the point. Something like understanding flitted in his eyes.
At first, I thought he'd tell me he didn't want to talk about it, that it was none of my business, or that I should just shut my big, fat (not to mention very attractive) Wutainese mouth and never bring it back up. But that wouldn't be like Vincent at all.
"...Sometimes, yes. Sometimes I wish I could go back and atone for my sins, right my wrongs, and undo the past." (Ugh; I couldn't help but sigh inwardly, because I knew this Vincent. This was rant-Vincent, who could prattle on for hours about how emo he was.) "...And sometimes, I'm glad I slept in that coffin for thirty years."
"...Wait, whut? Why?" Maybe it was a dumb question to him, but it made sense to me because the stuff he said made no sense. (See: unbeatable logic.)
"Because I would have never met all the people I know now. I would've never known Cloud or Tifa, Barret or Cid, or even Nanaki. I would have never been able to... help people, to make a difference." His eyes kind of went a little shifty when he caught me looking at him, like a nervous sweaty kid with stage fright who was trying to ignore the crowd. "I would have never met you, either, Yuffie."
I gaped at that, because it seemed like Vincent was spilling his innermost thoughts and secret feelings to me... which was pretty cool. "Is that a confession of your undying love for me, Vinnie?" He looked down from the stalactites—which must've been pretty interesting—and stared at me.
"You're cold."
"Your powers of deduction are out of this world." Personally, I thought the chattering teeth, shivering body and frostbite-blue lips were a dead giveaway. Really, it wasn't my fault that I was prancing around in the snow in a lacy yellow top and pink shorts (white polka dots; therefore, awesome). People who are practically kidnapped from their warm beds have a tendency to be unprepared for wherever they're going.
I waited, shivering and chattering like a monkey, but he didn't respond to the sarcasm. Instead, he did the single most memorable thing in Vincent history, ever:
He threw his cape around me.
There was an explosion of warm. It was like the cold was fleeing out of me and running on its scared little legs back to the gale outside that was raging like a grumpy Sephiroth on his period. That's how badass his cape was. Tremble in fear.
I looked back up into the pale face, and saw that he was still staring at me, mouth dipped in the wrinkled folds of heavy red, waiting. And I didn't know what for. An outburst? A scream? An objection? Because he wasn't going to get any of those out of me.
Hold on, lemme switch the thought track for a second, m'kay?
I lied before, about not liking Vincent. I lied really, really badly, but I still lied. Of course I liked Vincent. It was the reason I bugged him so much, because I liked it when he talked to me. I liked it when I could make him smile—even a little—and believe that the world wasn't going to come crashing down on his head. And I learned from him, too.
I learned that, sometimes, it was maybe better to keep quiet and be serious. I learned that, sometimes, you had to think things through before jumping into the frozen lake like an idiot. We taught each other things, and gained from each other's comforting presence, which had to be the most ultimate love ever, even if I didn't think he felt that way at the time. Vincent... completed me.
Okay, so that was totally lame, but it was true, too. I needed Vincent just as badly as he needed me.
When he noticed my eyes boring into the side of his face, he looked away. "Yuffie, this is a mistake," he rasped, and then he tried to gently unwrap his cloak from around me; I grabbed it fiercely and snuggled more securely into his side. "You need to listen to me. I—I'm too old—"
"You make up for that by having the emotional maturity of a ten year-old," I snorted. He blinked at me, as if seriously debating whether or not to urge on the ensuing battle of insults, and wisely decided he didn't want to lose.
"And I'm too dangerous," he continued, as if I hadn't said a word. "I'm not even safe for you, for anyone. What if Galian, or one of the others, breaks out and tries to hurt you?"
"Vincent, I'm a freaking ninja. I kill stuff, it's what I do. I can handle myself just fine, evident of the ass I kick every day. Besides, Galian is just an overgrown puppy with really big teeth and bad breath." I waved my hand dismissively.
"You're not listening, Yuffie, and I wish you would. I'm not just dangerous—I'm not healthy for you, not right. You don't need someone broken and damaged, someone who isn't whole, darkening your world."
"You know, you're awfully stubborn for someone who just made the first move," I sighed. When he didn't laugh, I narrowed my eyes in frustration. "Right, you listen to me, pasty man. It's been thirty years. You need to stop angsting and brooding over whatever the hell it is that's driving you up your padded white walls and come to grips with your past.
"And whether or not I want someone broken and unwhole is entirely my business, and not yours. Your say is irrelevant, you have no opinion." I realized that it was sorta weird for me to be scolding anyone—let alone Vincent—but I chugged on anyway, and added a bit more fiercely, "I'm not Lucrecia."
He flinched. "I know that."
"Do you? I wonder sometimes if you still see your 'sins and failures'"—I air-quoted the words—"in the rest of the world. You're always pushing someone away."
"I push people away because I'm a monster," he snapped. (That surprised me; I rarely ever saw Vincent get angry.) "I push people away so I don't destroy them."
"No. You are going to shut up. You are going to stop moping. And, dammit, you are going to realize that feeling a little human and allowing yourself to care about someone again doesn't make you a monster, and it doesn't mean you're going to destroy anyone."
"You don't know that. You haven't seen my soul, you don't understand—"
I crushed my lips against his.
It worked, anyway; his moody mumbo-jumbo was cut off as I pushed my face against his, as one hand clutched at his red cloak and the other tangled itself in his black hair. My eyes were open when I stared into his, and they were burning, searing into me, the red edges of his irises like flickering flames.
I saw it all: the fear, the rage, the grief and regret, and all of his demons, eager to get out and get a taste of Wutai's Ninja of Model Proportions. But... I wasn't afraid. Some part of me just knew that he wasn't going to let them hurt me, that nothing was going to happen. The flames in his eyes shrank and crawled away.
When I pulled back, he was panting. He didn't break the stare, didn't say a word, but just kept staring at me; waiting, I guess, for the moment I'd scream, for the moment I'd get up and run as fast as my chubby little legs could carry me. I smile and he cringed.
"Hey," I whispered. "See how I'm still here and totally not dead?"
Vincent didn't respond. He kept looking at me with those wary, guarded eyes, so I smiled again and didn't recoil from him like he probably expected me to. I just curled up in his side and buried my face in his arms. It probably wasn't very attractive that my hair was all wet and tangled, or that my breath was fogging up his claw, but I don't think he cared. He just sighed, a relieved sigh that told me he'd been afraid, and that he was still afraid. But I wasn't Lucrecia, he wasn't going to screw me over, and he wasn't going to spend another thirty years in that musty coffin, dammit.
"Love you, too, Vinnie," I murmured. And I did, too.
Morning rolled around. The first thing I noticed was the warmth, the glowing, comforting warmth, that was still wrapped around me. And I remembered. I opened my eyes, just a crack, to make sure it hadn't been one of the steamy romantic dreams I'd been having a lot of lately, and was glad to see that it hadn't.
The fire had burned itself out and left the air full of the wood's sweet smell, and the banshee storm outside had stopped pounding and fuming like a pregnant lady. The icicles were dripping cool, clear dew, and I was still pressed up against Vincent's side. He was sitting, cross-legged and eyes closed, chest heaving softly, and I knew he was asleep.
"Hey, Vinnie?" I said, and my voice was soft and quiet like a mouse or something equally tiny—like Tifa's boobs. (Har-har for sarcasm, right?) He cracked an eyelid open and peered at me, and I swore I saw his face soften a little.
"Yuffie," he said quietly, as though the night before hadn't been life-changing for the both of us.
Woah. That sounded really pervy.
But anyway, I pulled away from his side and leaned on him instead, still wrapped in his warmth. And then I kissed him on the cheek, and he did sort of a facial backflip, because I don't think he knew what else to do. That was my morning entertainment.
I watched as his hand (y'know, the normal one) rose and touched the spot that was still rosy from my lips.
"Morning present," I yawned, and then I flung off the warm cloak and instantly regretted it when the cold hit me like a yeti. But I got up anyway and stretched to prepare for the long, cold trek back to Icicle Inn, where our airship was so sweetly and patiently awaiting.
"We'd better get going!" I called through my clasped hands from the mouth of the cave, and I saw him stir to his feet. "We've got to get back and tell Reeve he's a paranoid psycho before he sends an army to come looking for us."
And he followed me out into the sun, which was totally glowing more than usual in fervent joy to celebrate our sexy union. My hand slipped into his, and he flinched for a moment, like he wanted to pull away.
"Yuffie—"
"Listen here, Vinnie: I am now your girlfriend and I demand we hold hands, or Sephiroth will come back again and kill us all."
He didn't try to pull away again. I think it had something to do with the smile he hid under the collar of his cloak. And yeah, it was going to be weird teaching Vincent how to not be antisocial and glum, but I was up for the challenge.
Besides, I loved Vincent—even if he was emo on a stick.
End
A/N: And that's it. Hope you guyses enjoyed the fic and all that. And who knew writing Yuffie was so much damn fun? I'll probably do more of her in the future, but not anytime soon. Anywho, don't forget to review.