In case you people haven't figured this out yet: I DO NOT OWN FINAL FANTASY VII! If I did, I would be very, very happy, and very, very rich. Anyway, I wrote this A) because I was bored and B) because I had the urge to write some Yuffintine. Don't ask why, I just did. I repeat, I OWN NADA.

Vincent woke up with a gasp, springing out of his coffin like a jack-in-the-box with a coil wound to tight.

He sat there for a moment, catching his breath. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind, the terror and guilt still very much alive inside him. He could see the faces even now: a woman with blonde hair and glasses, the young man in a surgeon's mask, the old man with the tired eyes, the small girl with curly brown hair and a cherubic, plump face.

All of them had met Vincent once when he was younger; the blonde woman when he was twenty-two, the youthful surgeon when he was twenty-four, the old man when he was twenty-three, and the little girl when he was twenty-five.

None of them were living anymore. The blonde had been stabbed walking home from the office where she worked, the surgeon had been strangled with a pair of scrubs, the old man had been poisoned (arsenic in his afternoon tea), and the girl had been shot in the head by a gun with three barrels and a name that evoked the guardian dog of hell:

Cerberus.

Vincent had killed them all, and now they had come back to haunt him.

He buried his face in his hands, trying to dismiss the lingering images.

Suddenly, his head sprang up. He sniffed the air.

"What is that smell?" he muttered to himself. "It's like…burning plastic…and blueberries?"

HE jumped out his coffin, and ran down the stairs, dressed only in his bright red pajama bottoms.

He reached the doorway of the kitchen, and skidded to a stop. Yuffie was standing by the stove, holding a pan at arms length. The pan was on fire, and she was digging around in her pockets with her free hand, presumably trying to find some materia. She caught sight of Vincent.

"Vinnie, HELP! Shoot it or something!" she yelled frantically.

Calmly, Vincent grabbed the fire extinguisher and shot a jet of foam at the blazing pan, quenching the licking toungues of flame almost instantly.

Yuffie set the pan down on the countertop, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Vin-Vin. That was pretty damn close!"

"Yuffie, what the hell are you doing?"

She held up a cardboard box. "Attempting to make pancakes of the blueberry variety."

Vincent glanced warily into the pan.

"I thought you were frying a chocobo."

"I KNOW!" she wailed. "Cloud's gonna wake up in two hours! I only have till EIGHT to make him pancakes!!!" Her lower lip quivered.

Sensing an imminent meltdown, Vincent held up his hands.

"Yuffie, slow down. Why are you making Cloud pancakes at six in the morning?"

She stared at him like he was an idiot.

"It's his birthday, Vinnie. Duh."

"Oh." He'd forgotten. Oops.

Yuffie gaped. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Erm…"

She waved a hand dismissivly. "So did I. That's why I have to make him pancakes." Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. "I have an idea! We can make the pancakes together! Then we can say it's from both of us! You'll have a present, and I won't have to serve Cloud a breakfast that looks like burnt puke!"

Vincent shrugged. It was six A.M. He didn't have anything better to do.

"Sure, Yuffie. Great idea."