Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to SquareEnix. Woot.
Mystic: Okay, so I wanted one last chapter to develop Reeve/Yuffie before the big day in general. A rushed fic is never fun, right? On the flip side, no one likes a fic that drags either, so things will pick up again after this chapter. Anyway, a big thanks to Nariosaw over at VLR. You're wonderful, m'dear.
Ice-cream, with it's sugar, heavy cream and all-natural ingredients, usually made the entire world seem like a much happier place to live in. It was smooth and cold, with just the right amount of sweetness to freeze away whatever stress ate at one's soul. Vanilla was the familiar basic and could be served in a variety of ways; over cake, over brownies, or even dunked in a cup of hot coffee in place of whipped cream. Oh, that sounded good right now. A hefty spoonful of vanilla ice-cream, swirled into a steaming mug of hazelnut coffee. Mm, that made Reeve smile just thinking about it. Too bad it was well past midnight and strong coffee would most likely keep him up even later.
Instead of caving to his usual nighttime snack, Reeve decided to make do with a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough. It was no surprise that this particular flavor already found a place in his freezer. Chocolate chip cookie dough was Yuffie's absolute favorite type and even hid a stash in the WRO company breakroom, complete with a note attached that read, "Keep away unless the wrath of Bahamut ZERO be upon your ass." That didn't stop Reeve from occasionally taking a nibble of the treat, however, and blaming it on Reno if anything was asked.
He sat on the kitchen countertop, completely in the dark so not to disturb his female companion. The only light was from the few stars that poked through the dark clouds. Every so often, a light drizzle of rain would fall again, but for the most part, the sky was quiet. Reeve almost felt like a spectre, one that sneaks into refrigerators to steal ice-cream and torment the very soul of the dairy treat. No snack could dare defeat the wrath that was a stressed commissioner.
For the past two months, he and Yuffie lived as celibate roommates. How they managed to not jump into bed with each other baffled him to the point of disbelief, but at least he could stand proudly because he did maintain a sense of self-control. It wasn't exactly easy and that accounted to his new addiction with cold showers, but the freezing water on his hot skin was a worthy price for Yuffie's new quirk.
She liked to kiss.
He scowled. No, take that back; she loved to kiss. Be it a chaste peck in the mornings over breakfast, or a more intimate moment in his office, kissing became a regular part of his life and it excited him too much for him to protest. On calm evenings, her usual question of "can we make out?" sparked a smile on his face and a tug to his groin. Not once did he refuse her, but never again did he allow it to get as intense as their first encounter on his couch. He freely let his hands roam over soft curves, but he made sure those curves were above the waist. Just imagining the erotic piercing was enough to make his blood bubble down to a place it didn't need to be.
The sound of bare feet entered the kitchen and Reeve looked up just in time to see a shadowy figure flip on the bright overhead lights. He blinked in surprise, but forced a smile when the form turned out to be his future bride. "Good evening, Yuffie," he said with a sleepy glance.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly. "Cute pajamas, Reevey," she complimented. "Didn't know you were into superman."
"These were a gift, actually," he said with a quiet laugh. "Marlene and Tifa picked them out for my birthday last year."
"Marlene is going to make the cutest little flower girl." Yuffie hopped onto the countertop next to him and swiped the container of ice cream. "Got an extra spoon lying around?"
"Here."
"Ah, yummy. Thanks." She took a spoonful and moaned as the sweet comfort hit her palate. "You know, you're going to spoil Marlene if you're not careful. I'm pretty sure she's forgiven you for taking her and Elmeyra hostage years ago."
He laughed and ate another bite. "She was fun ward, Yuffie, even if she did beat me in Candyland."
Snerk. "How come you never told me that?!"
"You'd make fun of me." He playfully nudged her with his elbow.
"Damn right, I would!" she exclaimed, nudging him back. "Is there any board game where she hasn't pawned your ass?"
He thought a moment and said, "Crazy eights. She's yet to best me at that."
"That's not a board game."
"I know."
"Ha!"
Reeve ruffled her hair. "What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged.
"Why not?"
"I dunno. Why are you up?"
"Worried about tomorrow."
Yuffie looked at him funny. "It's a bachelor party. What's the big deal?"
"That's not the problem," he answered with a sigh.
"Then what is it?" she asked, picking Wasabi off the microwave and setting her on the floor. The cat didn't like that and hopped back on top of the counter anyway. "Is it my bachelorette party that's got you all weird? I promise you that nothing skanky or whore-y is going to happen."
He laughed. "No, that doesn't worry me."
"Then, what is it?"
He laughed again, a sure sign that the sugary treat was working it's effect. "I'm wondering how I'm going to stay toe-to-toe with all the men, Yuffie. I haven't drank heavily in years."
Another strange look crossed her face. "You're worried about that?"
"Cid wants a drinking contest."
"Gawd, you are so weird!" Yuffie yanked away the carton in his hand. "You sir, do not deserve this ice-cream. Here I thought you were all worried about me running off with the stripper, or having hot drunken girl sex with Tifa -- " Reeve's eyebrows shot up at the words 'girl sex'. " -- but noooo. You're just worried if you can hold your damn alcohol!"
"Yuffie, go back to the hot girl sex."
"No way, mister!
"Yuffie, I'm an old man. You just can't spit out words like that without humoring me a little." He reached for the ice cream, but she held it out of his way. "That would be like me mentioning a tattoo I acheived my senior year in college, but not letting you see where it is."
She scooped some more ice cream, not taking the immediate hint. "I've seen you shirtless, Reeve. You don't have a tat anywhere."
"No, you've seen me with my shirt undone," he corrected, taking the treat out of her outstretched hands. "You've never seen my completely bare upper body."
Reeve should have known better than to mention his muscled flesh to a curious and horny teenage ninja. Small hands went to the bottom of his pajama shirt -- complete with Superman's 'S' -- and with speed that near frightened him, began to lift up the fabric with smooth deftness. Two spoons clattered to the floor and Wasabi jumped down to the ground with a loud screech.
"Yuffie!" He poorly batted her hands away.
She tried again, jumping off the counter and standing between his legs. "Lose the shirt, Reevey."
"I think not!" Their hands wrestled briefly before Reeve managed to slid off the counter, his shirt disheveled, but still not revealing any particular ink. "May I continue my midnight snack unmolested please?" he asked with a huff. He tried to be angry, but his small smirk only fueled Yuffie's busy hands.
"It's not molestation unless my hands are down your pants."
"Sexual harassment, then."
"It's only sexual harassment if you don't like it."
He raised an eyebrow. "I could very well report to your father that his daughter isn't as pure as he thinks."
"Pops didn't think I was one to start with," she shrugged. "Besides, I'll just tell him that my older and experienced fiancee seduced me into his bed with nothing more than a wink and a smile."
"And I here I thought it was my goatee that drove the girls wild."
"And the couches," she added, waggling her eyebrows.
They stood in his kitchen, unaware of the melting ice cream and ticking clock. He readjusted his shirt so it hung straight on his shoulders and finally asked, "You're not jealous of that couch, are you?"
Yuffie cocked her hips and tilted her head. "Very." At his surprised glance, she clarified, "Couches can be complete freaks, but no one judges them for it. You can do all sorts of stuff and they just lay back and take it like Honeybee Girls. I mean, you throw a couch onto the street and it'll just stay there waiting to be picked up by someone else. Couches are complete sluts and I don't know how they get away with it!"
Reeve blinked, wondering what the hellfire was in that ice cream to make Yuffie's slut-couch logic make surprising sense. He chalked it up to worrying about the bachelor party and decided it was time to go back to bed -- which was on the damn couchsonofabitchveryunfairrightnow.
"I mean, sure, a couch can get worn out just like loose co-ed, but it takes a lot longer for them to. A bunch of people can be on a couch at one time and the cushions still remain all bouncy and strong. And don't even get me started on couch covers. What's up with those things?"
Her rant was finally stopped by warm hands on her waist, but a cool sweet-tasting mouth on her lips. The new transfer of sugar was highly unexpected, but after two months of cohabitation, Reeve knew what could and couldn't make Yuffie shut up. A kiss made far better use of her mouth, in his sleepy opinion. "Your father called me earlier this evening," he whispered between kisses. "Godo wants us back in Wutai this week."
She trailed her hands up his chest, resting them around his shoulders, and kissed him back. "Okay," she breathed.
One of his hands reached up to play with the strap of her tank top. "We can leave after our celebrations."
"Sounds good."
His other hand skimmed along the bottom, smoothing her top a few inches higher than appropriate. "He wants you to choose a wedding song."
She pulled her face away, but kept her hands clenched in the fabric that smelled faintly of cookie dough. "I have to what?" Her eyes, once wide with amusement, were now wide with shock.
"Pick out a song for us to dance to at the reception." He spoke without hesitation, his tongue nearly as busy as his wandering hands. Though, only through talk and not through other means.
He felt her small hands pull him back down for another kiss, brief, but still intense. "I can't dance, Reeve," she said.
"You lie, Yuffie." He captured her mouth again and moaned when her hands scratched down his back. "Slow-dancing is like a kiss, only you use your whole body."
She chuckled against him. "You make it sound like sex."
"It very well can be," he murmered against her cheek, "with the physical closeness, the natural rhythm, and overall tendency to lose yourself in the moment." His analogy couldn't be farther from the truth. It was only a few generations ago that certain religious sects outlawed any form of vertical dance because of the resemblance to the forbidden horizontal one. Shiva's followers weren't bothered by it all, naturally, and often used both for ceremonies and events. It took Reeve years to figure out why his mother's favorite festival was Beltaine and even longer to determine why his father looked so much more relaxed after the long night was over.
That was one part of his parents' lives he didn't care to know about.
"Now you make it sound like fighting." It was her turn whisper against his cheek; she may have been a novice when it came to the art of seduction, but like most things, Yuffie picked it up quickly, using Reeve as the fortunate and willing victim.
"The intensity and risk of getting hurt?" His voice had dropped to a husky baritone, proving himself to be a master of the trade. He could feel the raised goosebumps on her arms, the slight shiver of her spine, and the erotic sound of her quickened breath. She couldn't see the smirk on his face, nor could she feel the reaction that he was fighting to reign in. Alas, no matter how many old, spinster nuns (complete with lethal rulerstick) did he imagine, they just weren't enough to push aside the image of a virginal kunoichi leading him into his bedroom by his tie.
Why was he jealous of his tie now?
"Let's bail on our bachelor parties!" Yuffie said suddenly. She pulled back and gripped his shirt. "Mine's going to be uber-boring anyway. No stripper or anything."
"I thought Shera hired an old boyfriend."
"Eh, he's married and has like five kids or something now," Yuffie shrugged. "His wife thought it'd be too weird."
"Yuffie, they put a lot of planning into this," Reeve protested. "We can't shirk our responsibilites to them."
"Do you really want to see some sleazy Honeybee girl jump out of a cake or drink so much your liver explodes?"
She did have a point. His liver suffered enough when he was a sortamaybekinda wild frat boy. Though he received a clean bill of health from his latest physical, there was an underlying fear that his liver and kidneys were hatching a plan to jump out of his body and leave him to die in a tub of ice.
"Where would we go and how would we explain ourselves?"
She bit her bottom lip for a moment, one of her many thinking faces. "We can go to Pleasures!" Her eyes twinkled with excitement.
"Pleasures?" he asked, his face one of curiosity. "That romance shop off route nine?"
"That's the one!"
He sighed. "What makes you think I would agree to that?"
"Sleazy Honeybee girl, Reeve."
"If anyone asks," he said, "I got stuck in a meeting."
"Yaaaaaaay!"