82. +
Vincent opens the door to their shared flat, hangs his WRO pack in the closet, removes and stashes his gauntlet, and slips out of his boots. There is a small, persistent noise at the edge of his hearing, and his gunslinger's senses are tingling. Where's Yuffie?
He makes his way to the kitchen, and there is his wife of six months, crouched over something on the coffee table and babbling quietly. As he moves closer, Vincent is able to make out the garbled words, "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" over and over again.
"Yuffie?"
She jumps and turns, hiding something behind her back with one hand, scratching the back of her neck with the other. "Hey, Vinnie!"
Her tone is forced, so bright it almost blinds him, and desperation is pulsing under the words like a heartbeat.
This alone is enough to set Vincent on high alert. What has she done now? What is she hiding from him, and why does she look like she's been crying?
But of course, as her husband, he knows not to take the direct route. "Are you alright, Yuffie?"
"Oh, I'm fine, totally fine, I'm just dandy, never been better!"
"Only you seem a little...tense."
She is edging away from him now, keeping one hand firmly behind her back. "I just missed you, is all."
"I see." The look he sends her is pointed. "I missed you as well, Yuffie."
She giggles madly, and makes a break for the bathroom door. In an instant Vincent has circled her waist with his arm and seized the item in her left hand.
She squeals, but the sound isn't teasing, it's scared. "Vince, no—!"
He stares at the thing in his hand. "Yuffie," he begins, voice hushed. "Yuffie, is this...?"
She nods miserably, and he looks between it and her with a expression is disbelief.
After a while, he asks, "Why are you so upset?"
Yuffie snorts. "I don't know how to be a mom, Vinnie."
He stares at the small white stick in his hand. One tiny blue plus. Their whole future changes.