Theft

The Incursion


She gave him a stern look, one he would have taken seriously if she had been sixty years older and his mother. As it was, he merely turned and went back to resupplying his cabinets with dishware. Yuffie hauled herself onto the countertop, sticking her bottom right next to the stack of plates he'd been handling. It did the trick. He stopped putting away his dishes.

"I don't have a right to call it?" she snapped at him, flabbergasted. She seemed unusually worked up about something he deemed so insignificant. "That's crazy! You let Cloud and Barret call you!"

"Yuffie, how did you find my place?"

"I followed you, what other way is there? " She blew steam out of her small nose. "Don't try to change the subject!" On the contrary, Vincent felt it was a very pertinent subject. He had been minding his own business when she slipped in through his kitchen window, dusting herself off as if she had lived here.

"Why are you here, Yuffie?"

She puffed up with imaginary importance. "Why else? I'm telling you, Vincent Valentine, I'm calling you!" He lifted a brow. His full name? She was serious. "You better damn well answer it!" He did not respond. She seemed to take it as acquiescence.

Satisfied, she slid off his counter and meandered idly to his tiny table, picking up the slice of toast that sat neatly on the plate. Vincent had recently resumed consuming food, but only when he desired the taste. She took a bite, then had the audacity to point at him with the corner of the slice. "This is good." She ambled out of the kitchen, dripping bread crumbs as she went.

Perplexed, Vincent replaced his plates before heading after her. He found her shoes dropped like pieces of pigeon poop at the entrance of his bedroom. He lifted his gaze, and sure enough, Yuffie Kisaragi was sitting on his bed, munching on his slice of toast. She wiggled her toes in her socks and blinked at him. "I'm crashing here tonight."

This wasn't processing. Yuffie was sitting in his bed, acting as if she'd lived here for years, and proclaiming that she was accommodating herself here tonight?

"Why?"

She slumped back into the bedspread, rolling her head into the plush pillow. He couldn't help but feel somewhat violated by the careless way she treating his bed. Sure, it had only been several weeks old, and was in no way comparable to his cozy, old coffin, but it was still his bed. She grinned at him suddenly. "If you give me a reason for saying I couldn't call you, then I'll give you a reason for crashing here."

"I didn't think it was a point of debate."

She shrugged, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, and settled back into the thin comforter. "Hey, Vince. Mind giving me some privacy? I tend to sleep in my panties." She began undoing the button of her shorts.

"Stop." The word came out with a sense of immediate urgency. He did not want a naked minor in his bed. In his bed. Why was this happening?

She shot him a scandalous smile. "Or you can stay and watch me. Whatever floats your boat." She waggled her eyebrows. How did she have the gall?

"I don't feel comfortable speaking on the phone."

She blinked.

Vincent continued speaking, anything to keep her from unzipping her shorts. "Cloud is the same way. Barret doesn't call unless it's necessary. My phone isn't for conversation, Yuffie."

Much to Vincent's relief, she stopped trying to shed her clothes on his bed. She did not, however, re-button. "You should have said so sooner, Vince. Tifa said I could stay over at Seventh Heaven, but I have a feeling they'll be doing the nasty tonight, so I needed to find myself a place completely devoid of libido to crash." She smiled perkily at him. "There."

Yuffie had implanted, during their short conversation, more unwanted implications in his brain than he ever cared to consider. She pulled the comforter about her and curled into it, back pressed against the wall. "Don't worry. I don't smell or anything. I'll be out of your hair," she snorted, genuinely impressed by her own funny, "by dawn." She shut her eyes, and gave a soft hum of approval for the comfort. "By the way, Vince, I like talking to you on the phone, so let me call you, okay?" She opened her eyes blearily, a languid smile indicating she was nearly gone. She patted the space next to her, a rather large empty space, since her petite form did not take up much. "There's room, if you want."

He hadn't a chance to reply before she was adrift.

Vincent woke the next morning, sitting with his back propped against one of the bed's legs. The comforter was draped across him. Yuffie was nowhere to be seen.

He was missing three slices of bread.


A/N: I'm evening the playing field. Have I been unfairly torturing Yuffie these past few pieces? It's Vincent's turn.

Thank you all for the positive reviews! I get shamefully bubbly when I read them. You are all lovely. Also, a thank-you to Deplora and serenbach for answering my prior question!

Thank you for reading. As always, comments/critique welcomed. Have a scandalous day. ;)