Yuffie Kisaragi was fucked.

Now, the definition of the word "fuck" is oftentimes heavily debated. It is used as an adjective ("you fucking idiot"), as a noun ("Cid is a sick fuck"), and in this case, as a verb.

As in, "Yuffie Kisaragi was fucked."

No, no. Scratch that.

Yuffie Kisaragi wasn't just fucked, she was FUCKED.

There are many lighter, less crude terms to describe the situation of our young ninja, but none would quite come as close to hitting the mark of horror as the "f word." Terms such as screwed over (and variations of it such as: screwed sideways, screwed horizontally, screwed vertically, screwed diagonally, screwed upside down, screwed inside out, screwed royally, screwed royally diagonally, etc.), messed up, in trouble, in need of assistance, bungled, buggered, totaled, sunk, fouled up, glitched, bobbled, spoiled, and flubbed. None of these, however, quite came up to par.

This idea, that Yuffie was fucked, eventually comes to this point:

Why was Yuffie so darn fucked?

There is more than one way to answer this question, as Yuffie was definitely fucked in more than a single way.

But, the answer that basically sums the whole situation up is:

Because Cid is a fucker.

Quite simple really.

Let us explore the details as to Yuffie's fucked up situation.

Cid had spiked the punch.

This was not an unusual occurrence for Cid and anyone who knew him, as he was always trying to get someone drunk. Especially if he was already drunk himself. Which he was. This was why anyone with half a brain and an aversion to Sunday-morning hangovers avoided the punch bowl at parties that Cid hosted or was present at.

Unfortunately, Vincent Valentine was not the full-time owner of his own brain. He owned even less than half. He rented out space to four other entities in his mind. Which meant he certainly didn't own his mind, much less half of it.

Maybe that was why he had even chosen to come to this party at all.

It was the third anniversary of Sephiroth's downfall and Meteor's expulsion from the sky. This was why all the members were gathered on Cid's new ship, the Shera, as was tradition for the group. So that Yuffie didn't yak all over the place, they just had the party while the ship was grounded. They celebrated every year. It was mostly just an excuse to catch up on news, as they rarely ever got to see each other on a normal basis anymore.

Vincent hovered in the corner, observing all of his chatting, happy companions as he stood there, alone. He wasn't interested in socializing.

Against his own better judgment, he had given into emotion and come to the party (as he did every year), pulled by a strange longing to just see everyone again, even if he didn't necessarily speak and even if no one necessarily approached him. Cloud always inquired as to his health and made sure he hadn't gone back to the coffin in Nibelheim before leaving him to his own devices. No one else really ever talked to him except for a greeting. He didn't mind.

Vincent blew out some air from his nose and pushed off of where he was leaning on the wall, deciding to get a drink.

Now, if Vincent had ever been a victim of Cid's alcoholic antics, he would have known not to touch the punch. If it were a normal situation, Vincent would have smelled the alcohol in the juice before drinking it and put it down in a hurry. However, he was distracted.

The distraction was none other than the Master of All Things Distractive—Yuffie Kisaragi, self-proclaimed ninja and materia thief.

She scampered up and latched on to Vincent's gold arm, grinning up at him in a sickeningly cheerful way. "Hiya, Vinnie! I didn't get to say hi to you yet and you looked a little gloomy—well, you always look gloomy—so I decided to come say hi and here you are and you still look gloomy and wow this arm is cold!" she rambled, tugging on the metal appendage. Vincent stared down his nose at her coldly, absentmindedly pouring himself a large glass of punch with his human arm.

Yuffie chattered on, unaware of his irritation, as always. "I haven't seen ya in forever, Vinnie! What have you been doing? Where were you? Who did you see? Did you find any good materia? Battle any good monsters? Get a new cloak?" She looked at his tattered red cloak and shrugged, continuing. "Guess not. Hey, Vinnie, did you go back to the coffin? I was wondering, is it comfy in there, 'coz I mean there's gotta be a lotta bugs in that basement and it's probably really moldy and I'm kinda surprised that you didn't have mold start growing on you while you were asleep all that time and I'm surprised bugs didn't lay eggs in your ears…" She paused. "Ewwwwwwwww! I hate bugs!"

As she animatedly had a conversation with herself, Vincent downed the whole glass of punch in one go, noticing something was a little off about the taste, but not really paying any attention.

Now, it must be understood that Vincent did not normally drink, and drinking for non-drinkers was a dangerous thing. It can be assumed that the alcohol in the punch was diluted enough that Vincent's unusual metabolism would be able to handle the intoxication levels, but this was not taking into account that Cid had gone all-out on this bowl of punch, as he had not had the chance to spread the Drunken Joy as of late, there being no parties for him to attend.

Yuffie continued to chatter, as a bored Vincent poured himself two more glasses of punch and downed those too, guzzling them like a man dying of thirst. By his fourth glass, Yuffie stopped her infinite monologue long enough to comment.

"Heya, Vinnie, you must really be thirsty. You're draining those things like a…draining…thing." Oh, yes, Yuffie…Master of Words.

Vincent, by the time she had spouted off this eloquent analogy, had finished his fourth glass and was swaying slightly, a tad bit inebriated.

Okay. So…more than a tad bit. More like…a lot.

A whole fucking lot.

"Uh, Vinnie, are you sure you're okay…?" Yuffie asked uncertainly, eyes flashing with something like concern. She stepped away from him as he gripped the table suddenly, shaking his head and squeezing his red eyes shut tightly.

"Yeeeeaaahh…" he slurred drunkenly, for he was, in fact, drunk. "W-why, wouldn't I be, Yuffsters?"

SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH. That is the sound Yuffie's brain would have made, had her brain been a vehicle, and had her brain been putting on brakes at very high speeds.

"Uh, Vinnie," she said slowly, eyes wide. "Do you have a fever?" She reached up on tip-toes to feel his forehead, biting her lip nervously. He didn't seem feverish. She took him gently by the elbow. "Maybe you should sit down now, Vinnie…" She attempted to lead him to a chair, but he pried himself from her grasp and stepped away, looking around and squinting at the lights.

"Hmm…duzzit seem hot in here ta you?" he asked. Yuffie eyed him nervously. He nodded, answering his own question. "Yeah…defininite…denifitely…detifi—...really hot in here. We should p-play a game to cool off…yeeeeaaaah…"

What game? Yuffie had never heard of any game that would cool you off…

Vincent punctuated his statement by reaching up and removing his bandana and throwing it to the side dramatically. Yuffie's eyes popped to the size of saucers and she took a hasty step backward. Vincent was moving to the front of the room, doing what was supposed to be, she thought, a sexy swagger, but ended up more as a sloppy stagger. The attraction of all the other AVALANCHE members was finally caught.

"Valentine, what the !&!& are you doin'?" Cid called out in an alarmed tone.

Vincent laughed slightly oafishly. Yuffie had never heard Vincent laugh before. It was…shocking. "Playin' a gaaaame…" he drawled.

Cid apparently did not like the tone in which Vincent had answered. Yuffie knew this because she hadn't liked the sound of it either. "What the !&!& are you talkin' about, Valentine?"

"You'll see," Vincent replied slyly, sidling up to where everyone could see him. This time, he started to…

Okay, well, Yuffie wasn't really sure what he started to do. She just knew that it looked like the spirit of an inebriated pole-dancer had possessed his body and decided that it was Show Time. Well, minus the pole-dancer part, it was probably true. But then, as he started kicking off his odd bronze boots, she thought maybe that description was not too far off.

Vincent sauntered around the room. Yes…sauntered. That was quite possibly the only word for it. As he sauntered, he removed articles of clothing, doing that strange drunken pole-dancer imitation. Every single member of AVALANCHE was now riveted. It was like a car crash. You just couldn't look away, no matter how gruesome the results.

This particular car crash was gory and the victims screamed in terror and pain as their vehicle collapsed in on them slowly. And oddly enough, even though there was no water source, the car was filling up with water as the vehicle closed in on them slowly, crushing and drowning them. Add to that fact that the car was also on fire and there is a mad, rabid, starved pit bull in the backseat. Oh, and the pit bull can swim.

However, it wasn't so much Vincent's body was displeasing (not displeasing at all, in fact, quite the opposite, as Yuffie was taking note of), so much that it was Vincent. He had already taken his cloak off and thrown it to Tifa, who blushed fetchingly, which meant he was down to removing his shirt. Removing it slowly. He was quite a good stripper for being drunk as a skunk.

Maybe he's done this before, Yuffie thought. Wait, no! Bad Yuffie! Bad thoughts! IMAGES!

Vincent had taken his shirt off and thrown it to Barret who had gone as pale as his dark skin would allow and dodged out of the way. He was now right near Yuffie and he shot her a look that made her sizzling brain start to liquefy and her knees go weak. What was he doing to her? She suddenly realized that she thought Vincent was…sexy.

Sexy?

Vincent? Sexy?

VINCENT SEXY?

He looked at her through half-lidded eyes.

Vincent, sexy?

Oh, yes.

She did not have much time to mull this over, as he was undoing his belts. Her brain, this time, went into complete and total meltdown. She went numb all over and she could swear her vision tunneled momentarily.

Vincent slid his pants down his hips…slowly…ever…so…slowly…

She closed her eyes, torn between watching and hoping to all the gods she knew that he didn't go commando as she sometimes thought.

He hadn't.

Black boxers.

She sighed in relief, but that relief evaporated and turned into alarm and shock and her cheeks went red as warm fabric was suddenly draped over her face. Vincent had thrown the pants at Yuffie and she realized that she…had…head…pants…face…

Eek.

She had Vincent's pants on her head.

She squawked and scrabbled at her face, trying to drag the fabric off. There was something inherently disturbing about having Vincent's pants on her head.

Once she was free of the offending garment, she looked up to see that Vincent had thankfully stopped stripping and now everyone was still standing in shock. Cloud suddenly turned to Cid with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"You spiked the punch, didn't you?"

Cid went into defense mode. "I do every !&!& year and this never happened! Not my fault Valentine can't hold his !&!& liquor!"

"No way, man," Barret suddenly said. "I spiked it too!" He grinned, apparently proud of himself.

"Oh, shit," Cloud said, shaking his head in despair.

"Look, Strife," Cid said. "Just 'coz you got no !&!& sense of humor, doesn't mean you gotta spoil our f—"

"I spiked it too."

"Ah, fuck."

"Wait, wait, hold on one shittin' minute," Yuffie broke in. "You mean, you guys spiked the punch before I did?"

They stared at each other. "So…" Cid said. "I used Vodka."

"Straight whiskey."

"Jack Daniels'."

"Southern Comfort."

"Shit."

The result of all this tampering with the punch had apparently created a stomach-melting concoction that only the demons of Hell could drink without dying from. That explained why there wasn't a steaming puddle on the floor that looked suspiciously like Vincent. He did rent brain space out to about four demons of Hell.

Vincent suddenly broke all their horror as his voice sounded around the room.

"Where's my CAPE?" he wailed. Tifa still had it in her hands and was about to offer it up, when Vincent dashed off, screaming something about finding his cloak. They all looked at each other blankly, too shocked to make a move. It seemed that Cloud was about to go after him, when Tall, Dark, and Drunk crashed back through the door with a large box in his hands.

Yuffie burst out laughing when she saw what he was wearing.

Vincent's boxer ensemble was completed by the addition of a most lovely accessory. He was wearing a faded red towel that was tied around his neck and fell to his waist. She saw that it had the monogrammed initials "C.H." at the bottom.

"C.H.? Who the hell?" Yuffie voiced.

Cid was shuffling his feet awkwardly. He mumbled something.

"It's yours?"

He mumbled something again.

"What was that, Ciddie? I couldn't quite hear you. Ya might wanna speak up," Cait Sith prompted, holding up a microphone.

"I said, 'they're a $!&$in' gift from Shera,' all right?" Cid snarled. Yuffie cackled evilly.

They were interrupted again by a large bang as Vincent dropped the box at his feet, grinning hazily, and rummaged around in it. He pulled out a vid-screen (1), some wires, a funny-looking cube (2), and a square pad with numbers on it. Yuffie was puzzled. He hooked the cube up to the vid-screen and the square pad up to the cube and then pressed a button.

The whole set-up came to life and Vincent's strange grin grew even larger. A thumping beat came from the speakers of the vid-screen and some selections appeared on the screen itself. Vincent selected a few with a couple of button touches and then the beat changed. He took a place on the square pad and started…

…what the HELL.

It looked like he was tying to river-dance.

Yuffie heard the speculative voice of Cait Sith suddenly. "Dance Dance Revolution…"

"Dance Dance what?" Yuffie asked.

Reeve took over and his voice came from Cait Sith, crackling with static. "It's a game we techies used to play together in our dorms."

"You actually played that?" Yuffie asked incredulously.

Reeve's voice was indignant. "Hey! It was quite an entertaining way to pass the time, thank you very much."

Yuffie snickered something out that sounded suspiciously like "nerd."

They turned at the sound of Vincent's intoxicated slur. "Heeeey, guys. Come p-play with meeee…"

"Uh, Vincent, couldn't we just play something else?" Tifa attempted to reason. However, one does not reason with a drunk unless one desires confusion.

"NO!"

"But…why not?"

"Because!"

"But, Vincent, surely there's plenty of other games to—"

"NO!"
"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because why?"

"BECAUSE!"

"BECAUSE WH—" Tifa was cut off by Cloud's consoling hand on her arm and his murmur in her ear. ("You can't reason with a drunk, Teef.")

"COME PLAY WITH ME!"

"Sumbody betta do somethin' 'fo' Valentine shits himself," Barret stated eloquently.

"Thank you, Barret, master of etiquette," mumbled Tifa.

"BAAAAAAAAAAARREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!" wailed Vincent.

"Aw, Hell naw."

"COME DANCE WITH ME!"

"Uuuuh…Tifa…you go do it."

Tifa, looking hesitant, stepped forward reluctantly. "Er…Vincent, I'll dance with you."

"NO! I want BARRET!"

"Aw, fuck naw."

Cait Sith grinned wickedly at Barret, his eyes narrowed in malicious glee, the sadist. "You heard him, Barret. He doesn't want anyone but you." Here, Cait Sith punctuated the statement by fluttering his stubby eyelashes girlishly and tittering.

Barret looked slightly green as Cloud gave him a good shove forward and he walked slowly, as if lead weights had been placed on his feet, toward the little dancing pad and the pouting vampire. Vincent beckoned him over eagerly, grinning like a sap.

"What the hell you want me to do, Valentine?"

"I want you to dance!"

"Uh…" At this point, Cait Sith burst out into studio chorused laughter.

Vincent stepped off of the dancing pad and shoved Barret onto it, pressing a button on the cube and making the beat change drastically. "Shit man, what the fuck am I s'posed to be doin' here?"

"You just waaaaaaaatch the lil arrows and move your feetses the way they saaay to."

"The arrows're gonna tell me stuff?" Barret looked slightly confused.

"Yep!"

The beat shifted and Barret looked at the screen blankly, not moving. Vincent's face darkened and he gave Barret a rough push. "DANCE!" Barret knew he was no match for Vincent, much less an angry Vincent, so he complied, embarrassment clearly written on his face.

His large, dark feet fumbled slightly and he started to dance sluggishly, looking like a bear with his feet caught in a large tub of half-melted marshmallows. He was doing fine for a short while until the beat suddenly sped up and he stumbled, one foot catching on the shin of the other leg and it happened almost as if in slow-motion, deep-voices and everything. He fell, coming into contact with the floor in a mighty crash. Barret groaned.

Vincent hopped up from where he had been watching delightedly and shoved/rolled Barret out of the way of the dance pad. "MY TURN!" he proclaimed.

He got up on the dance pad and switched the tune by pressing the button on the cube once again and started dancing. This time however, something else happened that interfered with his inebriated river-dancing. One of his bare feet got tangled in one of the numerous cords that were connecting the cube, the dance pad, and the vid-screen. With a cry, Vincent twined into the cord and fell on the whole configuration, twisting into yet more cords and even more cords, until he was hopelessly entangled.

He giggled. "Who else wants a go?"

Cid snorted. "Ain't gonna be no more !&!& goin' on one of those with what you just did to it, Valentine."

Vincent looked down at the horrible mess he had made of the equipment. It sparked and fizzled, sending little electric jolts through him. "Heehee…that tickles." He took another look at the Dance Dance Disaster and his lower lips started to quiver. "B-but…I want my GAAAAAAAMES!"

"We could always play something different, Vincent," Red, whom had been silent up until this point, offered.

"NO! I WANNA DANCE!"

"We could still dance."

"Nuh uh! I want DDR!"

"But, Vincent, you've broken it," Red replied, calm as always.
"I WANT MY DDR!" And with this, he leapt up, cords and all, dragging the whole wrecked configuration behind him with skittering sounds, and dashed out dramatically.

"Aw, Vinnie, wait!" Yuffie called after him, following behind him.

She followed the little bits and pieces of the broken electronic devices down the hallway corners. Finally they stopped at a door.

She banged on the door. "Aw, Vinnie, c'mon out! I mean, hopefully, you won't remember any of this by tomorrow, 'cause then we're all gonna be dead by Chaos, but you can at least lemme in for now, until I have to nurse you when you've got a shit-faced hangover!"

The door suddenly opened and Yuffie stumbled in, catching her balance again as the door sealed again behind her. Vincent was sitting on a bucket in the corner, head in his hands. Had she been paying more attention, she would've seen the sign on the door marked "Janitor's Closet."

She heard footsteps outside in the hallway, and she saw the silhouette of Cid in the blurred glass. "Hey, guys, I found Vinnie! He's in—"

Click.

What the Hell?

Yuffie whirled around, grabbed the doorknob and rattled it frantically. It didn't budge. The silhouette disappeared from the view, muffled laughter trailing away. "What the fuck, Cid? Did you just lock me in? I'll kill you, you sunuvabitch!"

Turning around and slumping against the rough surface of the janitor closet door, she surveyed the space. It was small, with a lotta cleaning supplies and a hideous pink couch in the corner. What the fuck a janitor would want with a couch, she didn't know. There was a lamp in the corner casting a dingy light around the very small area.

She looked up as Vincent shifted, a strange gleam lighting his already odd eyes.

"Uh, Vinnie?" He advanced on her. "Hey, Vinnie…you okay? Helloooooooooooo…Vinnie. Vinnie Valetine-oooo…ya in there?" He kept advancing on her with that weird look on his face.

She started to back up, but was cornered against the wooden door with nowhere to go, so he kept coming toward the ninja until he was right there, with only inches away, looking down at her. She laughed nervously, looking back up at him.

He suddenly spoke in that curious slur. "Y-Yuffie…" he slur-drawled. It was a husky tone of voice, different from the high-pitched squeal he had been creating in the party-room.

"Uh…y-yeah, Vinnie?"

"Haaaaave I ever told you thaaaaat I find you…sexy?"

What. The. Fuck. HorseshitbuggerfuckholyHellinawinebottleSatanonapony.

"Uh, Vinnie, I think all that alcohol's gone to your head…wait, what the Hell am I sayin'? Of course it's gone to your head. You're drunk! But, my point is, maaaybe you should sit down now and get a little bit of r—"

Now, the reason that Yuffie's speech was abruptly cut short was that her lips had been stopped from movement. This was not from phantom Janitor-Snake venom, as she believed at first because then she remembered that there is no such thing as a Janitor-Snake and she figured that it could possibly be the fact that, well, you know…

Vincent was sorta kinda…maybe just a little bit…

Kissing her.

Ack! Vincent Valentine kissing Yuffie Kisaragi? She didn't have time to ponder this as she realized that, wow, it sure as Hell felt good.

His lips were warm and soft and pliable, and they moved against hers coaxingly, encouraging her to respond, until she gave in and then her hands were suddenly all over his already half-naked body and tangled in his wild black hair and his hands were all over her fully clothed body and they collapsed onto the horrible pink couch and just when it seemed to be getting a little heated...

It stopped.

Why did it stop, you ask?

Simply because Vincent had passed out cold.

Sighing, Yuffie looked down at her almost-one-night-stand-drunken-love-bunny and pushed an adrenaline-shaking hand through her mussed hair, making it stand on end further. Oh, well. She figured if it had gone much further, then he would have killed her and brought her back to life to kill her again (probably a slow, agonizing, rip you to shreds with a golden claw type death), rather than the Quick Death by Shotgun that she figured would have happened when he remembered that she spiked the punch. At least she would have company in the form of Barret, Cid, and Cloud.

Figuring she might as well get comfortable until someone unlocked and opened the door, Yuffie shifted Vincent enough that she could lie half on him and not have them both fall off the barf couch. Soon enough, she drifted to sleep with the warm skin of Vincent's chest lifting her cheek up and down to the rhythm of his breathing.

And this is why Yuffie was so darn fucked.

Yuffie's eyes fluttered open and the haze cleared enough for her to look up into the face of Vincent Valentine. He was staring down at her, apparently fully awake at this point. But that was it. He hadn't killed her yet. He was just...staring.

"Uh," Yuffie said, laughing nervously. "How do ya feel, Vinnie?"

"I have a splitting headache and my mouth is very dry." That was the most she had heard out of Vincent ever. Well, sober, that is.

Yuffie grinned wryly. "That's not uncommon. Look, Vinnie," she said, changing tones. "You probably don't remember what all happened last night, but—"

"I remember everything."

Ah, shit. She was hoping he hadn't. Apparently, the gods hated her. Well, there was that time when she had taken that goldfish, with that baseball bat and…nevermind. It wasn't much surprise that the gods hated her, to say the least.

"Oh, well, then I guess…you won't be seeing much of me…"

"And why is that?"

"You know, 'cause you're gonna kill me an' all…"

"Why would I kill you?"

"Well, the punch spiking and then there was that little making out dealio, and I just figured you were too drunk to realize what you were doing but then I decided 'hey, what the heck, let's go with the flow and'—"

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Yuffie was interrupted by Vincent's lips.

This second kiss from the vampire was sweet and slow and intense. He broke it off to stare at her with half-lidded, smoky eyes. Yuffie's eyes just looked glazed.

"W-what was that for?"

"I just wanted to see if it tasted the same as I remembered," Vincent told her in a scratchy growl.

She blushed furiously. "And…what did…was it…er…"

"Delicious."

If possible, Yuffie's eyes got wider. "I…uh…um…well, I…" Vincent just placed one long finger over her lips and she quieted, staring at him, quite shocked. This hovering moment was interrupted by the sound of the lock clicking and doorknob turning, so, using her lightning reflexes, scrambled off of Vincent's chest and took a spot in the corner of the room before the door opened fully. Cloud poked his spiky blonde head in.

"Man, we've been looking all over for you guys. Cid finally 'fessed up to locking you in this closet. Thought it'd be funny I guess. C'mon, we're serving breakfast. Uh, Vincent, we have your clothes, and some aspirin for that headache, from what I remember about hangovers." He grinned, oblivious to the tension in the room, so they got up and followed him out.

- - - - - - - - - -

Yuffie was in her designated cabin on the Shera, lying on her cot. She stared at the ceiling dazedly until there was a knock.

"Come in," she called.

A tall figure slipped in and shut the door behind itself quietly. She looked up to see that Vincent was standing there, watching her, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it), fully clothed, cape and all. Her eyes flashed resolutely.

"Vincent Valentine, don't you come in here and toy with me! I don't know what your little game is, but I better not have to get you drunk a second time to make you kiss me like that again!" Well, that certainly hadn't come out right. She had meant to tell him to quit screwing with her head and to go fuck himself.

"Alcohol won't be needed this time."

"Vincent, what are you talking ab—"

Normally, Yuffie hated being interrupted so many times in one day, but in this case, she figured she could make a tiny exception.

- - - - - - - - - -

(1)—Vid-screen—I made this up entirely as a piece of technology like a television. Television just didn't sound…FF7-ish enough.

(2)—funny-looking cube—this is, essentially, a Game Cube, since you can play DDR with a Game Cube.

A/N: Ah, the fluff and the sexy scenes and the drunkenness.

I do not own Dance Dance Revolution, that's for sure.

I apologize for the horrible OOCness, but I think everyone was pretty good, except Drunk!Vincent. And when he was sober, I think he was put into pretty good perspective. The "delicious" line might have not been very Vincent-y, but I think that Vincent has the potential to be playful when he works up to it. Besides, that drunken haze hadn't completely worn off yet.

The Shera is from Advent Children, and I just decided to throw that in there.

I gotta give credit to Katie (DemonSurfer) for the "not owning his full brain" thing and how numerous people spiked the punch because it was originally just Cid.

Credit is given to Patrick, as he was the one who started the whole conversation about how Vincent's a party-animal inside that hard shell and how we're sure that he would play DDR every chance he got in secret.