She wanted a fever pitch. She wanted tangling legs, hot invasive kisses, for him to pick her up and throw her down, if not on the bed then somewhere, just somewhere, she wasn't picky. If he were to pick her up and launch her clear across his living room just for the hell of it, at least it would've been a start, right? Right. But on a regular grey day of the week, she'd gone over to see him, picked his locks with a hairpin she bought partly for the sake of it being pretty, partly because knocking was a boring thing to do. He was passing the door as she entered, lifting his hair up into a ponytail of some sort, and he didn't even say hello, just flicked his eyes over and continued on. She made a sandwich and everything and sat herself at his table, waited for him to come back into his own living room.

When he didn't she went to him. Valentine, he did things like that…so subtly and she knew it, knew he just wanted her to go to him, that his walking past the door when she walked in was no mistake really, just an old Turk with old Turk habits. He'd probably been in there, listening to her struggle with the lock for like….an hour. Bastard.

"I think you should take me now. Right there right on your desk." She said, leaning against the doorway to his study/bedroom/artillery. There were guns, all over the place. "Odin, I'm not even gonna ask why you have so many, just…why are they all out in the open like that, it's kind of like…what's company supposed to think?"

"That I don't want company." He said, shifting papers on his desk. Yuffie rolled her eyes, she knew better too, his main one was hidden somewhere.

"Except me, right?" He didn't look at her.

"You could have knocked. That is the proper thing for company to do."

"Proper? Come on, Valentine." She said and he nodded.

"That's right, I forgot that you are above propriety."

"Not above, but something different. Less boring. I straddle it, yeah. I straddle it, like I want to straddle you." He stood up.

"You don't want that."

"Wha…yes I do! We've been dating for like…three months. I'm getting old, even if you're…." she left off, but they both knew where she was going. Not. Even if you're not. She shifted awkwardly in the doorway. He went over and took her face in his hands.

"Ah, so this is a very time sensitive matter."

"Unhuh." She said, feeling hot all over. He kissed her lips, and she was dismayed to find no tongue. She clasped his jaw with the tips of her fingers. He regarded her through pieces of dark hair that had already slipped from the hair band. She swept it back, but then decided she liked it in his face and made it fall back. She looked at him, at her handiwork.

"Are you finished?"

"I don't know." She said quietly, stomach lurching at the thought that he let her put her hands into his hair again, that he let her get away with a lot of things really. She knew for all her speed and wiles, he could handle her like she was some kind of kid. She rationalized to herself that of course he could, being five hundred years old and all. She'd never admit it to herself without rationalization, she'd never ever admit it to him. It bothered her a little, but knew she couldn't be with some punk ass who couldn't even attempt to temper her. She smiled.

"You're so cool lookin', it makes me crazy." She whispered.

"I'll have to stop then." He said, hands finding her hips, his hips finding hers.

"The messed up part is I don't think you could." She said, inwardly freaked at the warm pressure of his hips over hers, his slow breathing shadow cast fully over her. "I…guess, I think I'm ready for the ravaging now." She said and he snorted.

"There will be no ravaging until we've done this properly first." He said, and she blinked, feeling a little panicked though she couldn't figure why.

"What is it with you and doing things properly?"

"I haven't the slightest, there must be something wrong with me." He said, brushing his hand against her cheek. She flinched and tried to cover it, but they both saw it.

"Just…right on the kitchen floor, okay?" He took both his hands away, stepped back against his desk.

"There's something bothering you."

"I…Come on, just because I wanna be thrown around a little bit, you know show your kitchen table who's boss…" He was bemused.

"It already knows, I assure you. I eat my meals there every day, just to cement this."

"Hey, smart ass, I'm the smart ass here. And I just want to ride you like you've never been ridden before."

"The bus stop is downstairs." He said. "The first time I touch you will not be on the floor, on this desk, or anywhere in this house meant for eating, walking or hanging pictures on. The first time I touch you, I will not be rushed, and you will not rush me."

They looked at eachother. Yuffie's phone rang.

"Well, I gotta go anyway."

And that was that, though not really because she kept thinking about it all day. The closeness between them had taken forever to get to, but now as they were really starting to become closer, she felt like…short of breath, that thick, panicked hitching that she sometimes used to get before she went into full on hyperventilation.

She kind of wanted to run away from it, from whatever was happening between them. Old ninja habits maybe.

Some nights later she went over to his place again, and he was cleaning his weapons as a pot of something boiled on the stove. There was some wine on the counter.

"If you are hungry, there will be extra." He said, and forty five minutes later when he made the table for the both of them, all pretty and particular with forks and knives and everything, it occurred to her that there wasn't just 'extra', there was some made especially for her. When he set the wine down between them, it occurred to her that she was being romanced. What the hell? The meal was not a comfortable kind of quiet-for her, he was always comfortable with silence-and halfway through it she buttered her bread viciously with her knife, and said:

"What the hell Valentine?" He only sighed, put his glass of wine up to his nose. She did the same, or tried to…mostly she ended up dipping her nose in it. He glanced at her, and set his wine down on the table.

"Yes?" He asked, sitting back in his chair. Handsome bastard, she thought, hating him for the food being as good as it was.

"You're totally wooing me right now."

"I am?"

"Yeah, you are. You don't think I've been wooed before, I'm the princess of Wutai." That was kind of a lie, but she wanted to stick it to him a little bit. She took a swig of wine and screwed up her nose.

"If you go slowly, it will taste better."

"Oh Leviathon. You aren't wooing me, you're trying to-" she huffed. "Is there a hidden moral behind the spaghetti too?"

"No." he said, getting some on his fork.

"Then why did you make it, huh?" His fingers twitched, and she looked back up at him. She knew that one. That was genuine annoyance. He looked up at her, set his fork down.

"I made it for you." He said, getting up from the table. She tried to stop him, but he was already headed to the kitchen with his plate. She felt like a jerk, a huge, jerk. She got up, went to the kitchen. Vincent was there, tossing his food out.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she said, and he went to the sink, turned on the faucet. "Talk to me, please Vincent." He turned around, and she rushed into his arms, fingers still caked with tomato sauce. He smelled like sweet, acrid fermentation. "Why do you have to romance me, you bastard?" she said into his chest. He sighed and she heard it deep at its starting point. He turned her around and set her on the counter. Like nothing.

"That is something I've been asking myself." He said, drying his hand on his pants. She watched him as he leaned forward to turn the faucet off, their noses touched. He just breathed there, and she put her hands through his hair as he moved down, kissed her neck. She leaned her head back, even though she still wanted to say it was too tender, ask him to forgo the kisses for teeth. His leisurely way made her panicked still, and the slow path his fingers made from her waist to her bare thigh made her wondered what it would be like to fall in love with him.

She became nauseous. But his touch so good, and when he carried her to his bed, he put her down softly, moved over her and kissed her chin, then her throat. She had to distract herself, and when he took her shirt off, he exhaled hotly to find she had nothing on underneath. He seemed to reign himself in though, closing his eyes for a few still seconds where she watched the long shadows his long girly eyelashes cast down his cheeks. For longer than necessary he was still with his eyes closed, like he was having a conversation with himself. Must've been an awesome conversation, for him to be doing that while she was lying there underneath him bare breasted an all. Must've been awesome.

Annoyed, she grabbed his crotch, and his eyes shot open. He snatched her hand away, but it wasn't that reaction that had her suddenly sitting up, almost knocking heads with him.

"Are you…just not in the mood?" she asked, feeling mortified. Because from what she could feel, he definitely wasn't. She wondered if it was her, was he not attracted to her? She closed her arms over herself. Couldn't think of any jokes about it that were even mildly funny. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

"I can't do this." He said, resting his arm on his knees, hair falling like a dark curtain over his face.

"What?" she said, different kind of panic coming to her.

"When I was young—" There was something like humor in his eye, "I didn't bother with things like this. Even now, this kind of leisure is driving me mad."

"What are you saying?" she said, and he turning took her cheek in one long fingered hand.

"I'm saying that perhaps I've overcompensated. That I have tried to create this for myself, even if I knew it was only a creation."

"Vincent..?" she said voice trembling.

"I'm not young anymore, Yuffie. I am old, and I have old longings and obsessions, with no space for new ones."

"What?" She knew what she was saying and she didn't, she tore her face away from his hands. "What?"

"I should have been honest with myself, with you." He said. "I don't love you any more than you love me. And no amount of time, no pretense is going to change that. I shouldn't waste your time mimicking the tenderness and leisure of lovers. I don't really want it, I didn't even when I was young." He looked to the far wall. It was wrong of me to pretend otherwise."

"Love?" Yuffie breathed. "Love? Fuck Love!"

"Yuffie—"

"No! You're such a jerk, I can't believe I apologized to you!" she said, grabbing her shirt and pulling it on.

"I still want to stay close to you." He said, and she rounded back in on him.

"Yeah, okay. You've made me wait this long, you made me…I didn't say any-fucking-thing about love, you were the one who was all let's take it slow, let me make goddamned love to you, and I didn't even want…" she huffed, inhaled sharply, "Why couldn't you just fuck me on your dining table, huh? I wanted to keep it simple and dirty."

"You never knew what you wanted, that much was apparent."

"Well, I know what I didn't want! You confused things with all your tenderness. I'm the girl! I'm supposed to do that!"

"Then my words should make you happy." He said. "You don't have to worry about falling in love, at least not with me. That capability has gone along with the years."

"Do I look happy Vincent?" She asked, and he had the fucking nerve to smile. He immediately righted himself, when he saw her expression.

"I still want to be close to you," He said. "but it would be unfair to ask that of you. You're only nineteen, you still have all of your heart to give." He bowed his head. "I've become too used to your company."

"Well…" she was thrown. Drained. "I don't care. I don't care." She didn't look at him. "I'm leaving, fuck your guns."'

The next time she saw him he was in Seventh Heaven, sitting at the bar talking to Cloud.

"Wow, the both of you are talking at once? How is the world not imploding right now?" Cloud cast an annoyed look at her, and simply turned his back and went elsewhere. Vincent turned to face her and lifted an eyebrow. Yuffie watched the spot where Cloud had been, and it made her think how normal people generally reacted to her. Valentine had nerves of steel, and she always noticed this in contrast. She'd taken such advantage of his tolerance.

"I'm sorry for that thing I said about your guns." She said, looking into his eyes. He smirked.

"I only took it as an interesting suggestion."

"God, how do you put up with me?"

"I'm not sure. But even a full, old heart allows for a soft spot now and then." He said and Yuffie swallowed.

"That's the corniest….but sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." He snorted.

"It can't be helped, I suppose."

"Generation gap. Right I know, but," she left off, and knew she was being watched. "Even though my heart is nineteen years old, even though you said I have it all to give…I think I only want to give it to you." Yuffie said and Vincent looked alarmed.

"Yuffie-"

"Isn't it totally fucked up? We're doomed to be unrequited. I think I could love you, like for real." Now that there's no danger of you loving me back.

"Yuffie-"

"Shut up Valentine. Unrequited love is sexy."

Cloud was coming down the stairs as they were going up, and when they stumbled into the bathroom, Vincent laid her softly down on the bathroom floor. Smiling up at him, she figured that they'd finally found a compromise. She pulled him down in the circle of her legs, and he bit her neck, shoulders flexing above her.

"Still want it that way?" he asked, voice rough like she'd never heard it.

"Bite me some more." she said, and he didn't so much smile, than show his teeth as he took her shirt over her head, bit her everywhere she wanted him to, and slyly mixed in more tender kisses. She didn't mind, but felt him hard between them and for a moment considered not being on top.

"Holy shit Valentine, I bet you we're a popular guy, back then." She pushed her hips up against it, and he groaned.

"Not really." He said, dragging her skirt down, swatting her hand away when she went to put it in his pants. Rolling them over she sat on top of him, and undid his shirt. He was terribly scarred, and so pale, but underneath it, built as well as she hoped. Maybe even better. He sat up and kissed the valley between her small breasts. She got his zip open, and in the moment she took to pause, open mouthed, he turned them over and she didn't complain when he pushed inside, growling low in her ear as she whimpered his name, last name and the last name again.

"I'm….oh…supposed," she stopped eyes fluttering when he circled his hips, lifted hers off the floor. "to…ride you." She said, and he groaned. The back of her shoulders dug into the floor and he lifted her legs and hips higher, fingers deep in her thighs. She looked into his eyes and he didn't seem all there. But at that moment there was a glimmer of something raw and he looked down on her, through his hair and passed her knees, which he now held solidly in his hands.

"You're beautiful. I don't deserve-"

"Vincent." He came back down over her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He started rolling his hips, deeper, slower. "Oh…oh…God." She knew these motions had been pieces of what he'd wanted, the languid ginger that sure wasn't fucking, but some very close relative of making love. He kissed her lips, she grabbed at his shoulders and hair, couldn't tell him not to be so tender, because it felt better than anything ever, and she suddenly knew her and her heart were in serious trouble.

"Odin, Yuffie. You're so…" he trailed off into a groan and she dragged her nails down his back.

"Don't stop." She whimpered. "Don't stop." The muscles in his arms trembled, and he moved a finger down to touch her.

"Nothing could stop me." He breathed, angled his slow thrusts and watched her arch off the floor, make sweet crying sounds that made him shake with it. "Not even the failings of my own heart." He said, and she lost it then, to those words that could've potentially spoiled the moment, but it rang to true in the deep timbre of his voice.

She came so hard she didn't know where she was, but knew that it was good and that that bastard had somehow ended up making something like love to her anyway. He followed almost immediately, collapsing down on top of her. Quickly though, he was getting up on shaking legs, offering his hand to her. She took it, braced herself against the sink.

He gathered his shirt up from the floor and she looked down into the drain, wondered if she could really handle not being loved back, if she could hold off herself for much longer. She glanced him moving in the mirror before her, felt her heartbeat in her mouth. The answer was no, she couldn't hold it off.

The thing about a nineteen year old heart was that for all the potential it had to love, it was still a wild thing. It could not be controlled or held off, but it could love mercilessly, even in the absence of reciprocation.

Author's Note: So holy, I literally haven't eaten anything all day, just because I was caught up writing this. XD. This is when FFVII obsession gets unhealthy, I think. I hope you enjoyed.