Not Friends

Final Fantasy VII © SQUARE ENIX

Not Friends © fhclause

It had been a month and a half since Yuffie had been randomly dropping by to his house.

Usually seen raiding his fridge in the middle of the night.

The first time he heard the clanging and banging in the kitchen, he thought it was a thief. And true to his thoughts, it was a thief, but one that he did not expect to see.

"Yuffie." He frowned at the casual way she was sitting on the island and dangling her foot as if she owned the place.

"Heya, Vinnie," the thief greeted, munching some food with a dramatic effort. "Long time no see."

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he closed the fridge's door she left opened. A quick glance inside, and he realized that the food on her lap was his leftover. And his carton of orange juice was gone too.

"Eafin'," she muffled with her mouth full, knowing full well it would annoy him. Disregarding her attempt, he took in the mussed hair, her scraped knee and her flushed cheeks—perhaps caused by the cold night outside—to judge it himself the reason she was here. After a beat, he decided he did not want to know.

"Make sure you lock the door when you leave," he muttered before leaving.

"Yeah, thanks for not offering a place to stay, Vince. You're a great friend!"

"We are not friends," came the quick answer and Yuffie stuck her tongue out at that.

The next morning, she was long gone, but the doors were at least locked.

And he wasn't all that surprised when a few nights later, she came back, eating his leftovers and draining all his orange juice again.

He doubted telling her to stop would make any difference.

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It had been two weeks since Yuffie became his housemate.

And the worst part was, he had no say in it.

It was raining heavily when the knock came. A thoroughly soaked Yuffie grinned at him and pushed herself in when he stood, unmoved, at the doorframe.

Then, he noticed something that was never there before. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, "No."

"Wha—? I haven't said anything!"

There really wasn't a need to. The medium sized suitcase beside her feet and her coming here despite the terrible weather told him everything. "No, Yuffie."

"Just one night! Pleeaaase."

After an exchange between a burning glare and long, nonsensical excuse, Vincent finally relented. It was only for a night after all.

Then, it turned to two.

Then, three.

Then, four.

On the fifth day, he called Cloud for advice—Yuffie was unavailable because when he wanted to confront her about it, she always managed to disappear to god-knows-where.

Then, he regretted making the call because now, he knew the reason why she was here. Still, he hardened his heart. Regardless of the reason, Yuffie doesn't need to stay here of all places. And speaking of the devil…

"Vince! There you are. I was looking all over for you!"

Vincent raised an eyebrow at that irony and was about to tell her off when she suddenly shoved a thick envelope into his chest. He frowned. "…What is this?"

"Payment for staying this month," Yuffie said with a shrug.

Dread filled his chest. "This…month?"

"Yeah! I mean, I know I'm a superb, awesome, pretty ninja thief and all, but I'm an honourable superb, awesome, pretty ninja thief. Thought I shouldn't mooch a friend, of all people." She hit his arm good-naturedly. "And you're my friend!"

"But we are not—"

"Welp! Got some other things to do. See ya!"

Like the wind, she was gone. The envelope in his hand felt more like a burden than a relief to him.

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It had been fifteen minutes since Vincent stared at the kettle, irritated.

There was a reason why Vincent stayed in Nibelheim. For one, it was full of dangerous but valuable monsters. The other, it wasn't the nicest of places. No one really liked it here, which was a plus for his solitary persona. When it was sunny, Nibelheim managed to stay dark and gloomy and when it rained, a drop on your skin felt like someone threw a stone at you. So, it surprised him that Yuffie managed to stay bright and healthy every time she came back home, soaked and dirty.

And of course, being Yuffie, her luck had to dry out at just the opportune moment, Vincent thought sullenly.

He turned the kettle off when it whistled incessantly. Pouring the boiling water into a cup of instant chicken porridge, he let it steamed for a couple of minutes before putting it on a tray, together with a tall glass of water and a bottle of medicine. He walked towards the guest room—no, he would never call it 'her' or 'Yuffie's' room despite all the Materia, shuriken and moogle plushies flooding the room. He still did not accept her as his housemate and he would kick her out of his house.

One day.

One day when she was not sick.

"Vincent?"

"I did not mean to wake you," he said as he put the tray on her bedside table. He saw her shook her head, causing the damp cloth on her forehead to slip beside her temple. He hesitated before pinching the hem with his clawed hand as if it would burn him any moment and dumping it not so gently on Yuffie's face. His lips twitched when she grumbled at him.

"Wazzat?" she asked, indicating the tray.

"Medicine. And food." A quiet curiosity. "Instant porridge."

Yuffie wheezed in what might sound like a chuckle. "You really do want me dead, huh, Vince? First, with your cooking and now, instant food?" Vincent discreetly rolled his eyes at that and turned to leave when Yuffie stopped him. "I'm sorry."

If he wasn't lithe with his feet, Vincent might have stumbled on the floor. Yuffie? Apologizing? What in the Terra—? "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry," she repeated, seemingly oblivious to the look of disbelief on his face. "It's the Dragon's mating season, isn't it? You were looking forward to it." She sniffed loudly. "Great bounty and all."

Vincent's eyes narrowed. Even though they were not friends, he knew her well enough that Yuffie never apologizes. If she wasn't so sick, he would have suspected that she was up to something. He opted with a more logical reason. "I think your fever is getting worse. The cloth should be changed," he said, taking the cloth on her forehead and submerging it into the small basin of chilled water on the bedside table. He squeezed the excess water and put it back—gently this time—on her forehead. He froze when thin fingers grabbed his wrist.

"Vincent." A ghost of a smile. "Thank you."

Vincent couldn't get out of the room fast enough. And because he still felt something crawling on his skin every time he thought about the picture of her—smiling—he took a long, hot shower just in case he caught Yuffie's germs.

It didn't help.

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It had been two hours since Cloud was mulling over whether the world need saving again. He thought that after saving the world for three times, he would have gotten used to seeing the signs of the end of the world.

Like hearing an orchestral chant of Sephiroth's name at the back of his head again and again.

Or like being harassed by three rude teenagers who had a mother complex.

Or like being jumped by an insane woman in a red cape with a thick Romanian accent.

But nothing prepared him for this.

Cloud sighed. After all the things that could happen during his day off… "Are you sure, Vincent?"

A pause. "Yes."

Pained blue eyes stared straight at the red ones. "You didn't eat anything weird?"

"No."

"Hexes? Curses? Magic?"

"No."

"Hypnosis?"

"Next you are going to ask if I am dreaming."

Cloud perked hopefully. "Are you?"

The frown on Vincent's brow deepened. "Of course not. If I were, that would suggest you are too. And two people could not possibly dream the same thing at the same time, could they?"

A sigh. "That would've solved the problem, though."

A deeper sigh followed. "Indeed."

Cloud rolled his eyes upwards as if praying to Gaia. Was he really having this conversation? With Vincent? When Gaia didn't seem to answer his prayers, Cloud shook his head again. He stared at Vincent helplessly. "Really, Vincent? Her? Of all people?"

"You think I did not wonder that myself? We are not even friends," Vincent sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to dispel the incoming migraine.

Cloud raised his eyebrow at that and was about to argue when the door of Seventh Heaven opened. "I'm home! Oh! Hey, Vincent. I didn't know you were here."

Cloud quickly snapped on to his feet. "Tifa! Uhh…" He glanced at Vincent who raised up as well. A silent communication between them and Vincent imperceptibly nodded. "Vincent was about to leave."

Tifa blinked. "So soon?"

"Yes," Vincent interjected. "There is something I must tend to."

When he was almost out of the door, Cloud immediately chased after him. "Vincent!" He patted reassuringly on Vincent's shoulder. "I know it feels like the end of the world for you, but it might not be so bad," Cloud whispered, glancing back at the curious looking Tifa with an unmistakingly tender expression. "I understand it is an unconventional choice, especially for you, but it might worth a try."

It wasn't the answer Vincent wanted to hear but he nodded nevertheless. "I will consider it."

When the door was closed and Cloud tried very hard to avoid eye contact, Tifa crossed her arms and asked, "So? What's going on? You two are acting dodgy."

"Ah…" Cloud scratched his cheek. "Vincent might be…sick."

"Sick? Oh no! Is it serious!?"

"No, no, no. Not that kind of sick. It's, uhh… the sick, sick."

Tifa blinked, uncomprehending until suddenly, it clicked. "Oh." She covered her mouth. "Oh!" A beat of silent disbelief. "Oh my god, are you…sure?"

Cloud chuckled. It's funny how even Tifa had a hard time believing it. He only hopped the silent gunman had better luck.

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It had been a few tense minutes since Yuffie snuck around the house.

Not that she needed to, since she practically lived here now. It was just, she didn't want to risk waking Vincent up. Having Vincent awake—especially a cranky, therefore murderous Vincent—would hinder her mission to ravage the fridge and snatch his leftovers and that very popular, very tasty, very expensive tub of ice-cream he bought for special occasion.

Yuffie froze when she heard a loud shout. It came from Vincent's room and that should alarmed Yuffie enough to run back into her own room. But she was rooted to the spot; not because she was afraid he would come out of his room and scolded her for being mischievous again, but because the sound she heard was excruciating, as if the maker of the sound was in extreme pain.

Without thought, Yuffie dashed into Vincent's room.

"Vincent?" she whispered, peeking warily into the room. It was dark, but Yuffie could see the vague shape of everything in the room. The sound she heard had become short grunts and heavy breath. Worried that he still hadn't responded, Yuffie stepped into the room. "Vincent?"

A groan quickly followed, but it wasn't an answering one. Yuffie tiptoed towards the bed when the bundle on it started to trash around. When she looked over, she realized Vincent was still sleeping. There was a frown deeper than usual marring his forehead and his fringe was already wet from the sweat on it.

Yuffie knew better than to reach out to wake the ex-Turk/assassin with sharp, clawed hand without warning, but when her voice didn't work, Yuffie took her chances and stretched out a cautious hand. It landed safely on his damp forehead and the groaning ceased. Yuffie took it as a good sign and slowly sit on the edge of the bed.

"Shh, it's okay. It's just a bad dream, Vinnie," she cooed when he was still breathing hard. She tried to smooth out the lines on his forehead by gently caressing it. Any other day, Yuffie would probably laughed out loud at the idea of her comforting someone who had a nightmare—especially someone named Vincent Valentine—so she chucked the thought away and pretended that she was merely comforting her cat back in Wutai who was mad at her for not feeding him her last burger.

"You big lug, why do you have to have a nightmare when I was so close on getting that ice-cream?" Yuffie chided softly as she softly petted his hair. Instead of frowning like usual, the sleeping man turned his head as if leaning into her touch. A smile was unconsciously pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, well. You're just gonna owe me two tubs of ice-cream."

The next morning, Yuffie found herself tucked comfortably in his bed. Vincent was nowhere to be seen until late at night, only to give her an unfriendly glare and a curt good night. When she continued her ice-cream mission and opened the freezer, she found not one, not two, but three of that very popular, very tasty, very expensive tubs of ice-cream.

Ah, no wonder he glared at her. He was saying 'thank you'.

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It had been a while since…well, since everything happened.

Neither of them knew who really started it.

Reeve gave them a simple mission that could have been done within two hours but the sudden downpour, Yuffie's clumsiness and Vincent's obligatory gallantry towards her made them both reported a half-successful mission and came back home, wet and grumpy.

A curt commentary here and a snappy response there and suddenly there were hands gripping inappropriately, lips clashing, tongues battling, clothes ripping, moaning, grunting, pleasure sharing…

You got the idea.

Vincent covered their exposed flesh with his cape while Yuffie snuggled closer. The sofa wasn't that comfortable, after all. "I'm surprised you didn't run right after. Regretting, sulking, whatever…" she murmured at the crook of his neck.

Vincent raised a challenging eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't run either, claiming to be a free spirit."

"Good point." A beat of silence. "So…since this isn't gonna be a one-night stand thingy, are we like… friends with benefit or something?"

"We're not friends," came the blunt answer.

Yuffie raised her head and looked at him. Then, she rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Vince? You're gonna be a tsundere on me now?"

Vincent shifted so she was under him. He brought his face closer, a small smile on his face. "We're not friends."

"Fine." She looped her arms around his neck, ready to capture the lips descending towards hers. "We're definitely not friends."

Finally, a Yuffentine fic after so long. Some of you might recognize a part of this fic-the part with Cloud and the ending of the world thing. There was once a full drabble on that that was posted here, but I quickly took it down because the ending didn't click with me. But I also felt it was a waste of muse and writing if I just left it in my computer, and so I fitted it in here, after some editing.

Thank you for reading, and please, kindly leave a review and/or your thoughts.

Dictionary:

tsundere: a Japanese character development process that describes a person who is initially cold and even hostile towards another person before gradually showing their warm side over time. (Wikipedia)