Inspired by Lord Makura's desire to see Vincent come down with Tseng's stomach flu. Yes, this is a sequel to A Little Bug. I reasoned that, since Vincent had mentioned that what makes him sick would kill Tseng, there would be no oppourtunity for cuteness if Vincent came down with a virus of some kind. Therefore, I delved into the world of other things that can make you sick to your stomach. Poison? No fun. Seasickness? That come into another story that will be up soon. Food allergies? Bingo! I now present to you my latest reason to pay no attenttion in Biology or German II!

Enojy. If you like it, review and/or go to my profile and read some of the other oneshots I've got. If you haven't read A Little Bug, you can still read this, but I reccomend reading it so you understand the story in it's entireity. As always, go check out the poll on myprofile page! Thanks!

Given the sheer amount of traveling Cloud and Cid did between them, it was a normal thing to see unusual items at meals in 7th

Thursday night, Tifa was standing at the bottom of the steps in an apron, a wooden spoon in one hand, the other hand on her hip.

"Vincent! Kids! Cloud! Dinner!"

Three pairs of feet thundered for the stairs. Satisfied that she'd gotten the message out, Tifa went back to the kitchen to finish setting things out. Cloud, Denzel, and Marlene came in right after her.

"What are we having?" Denzel wanted to know.

"A version of paella. Where's Vincent?"

"Still upstairs," Cloud murmured, dropping into his chair at the table. "He's been busy all day; do you know what's up?"

"He has a date or something," Tifa said, entirely uninterested. "I've never seen him so flustered."

Cloud choked on the sip of milk he'd just taken.

"A date?" he spluttered. "Vincent?"

"Seems so. Vincent! Get down here! I said dinner's ready!"

No response from upstairs.

Tifa sighed and went back to the stairs.

"Vincent!"

Silence.

Tifa marched up the stairs and knocked on the door to Vincent's room.

"Yes?"

"Dinner's ready. Didn't you hear me?"

"I'm rather busy, Tifa."

"You won't impress anyone if you get dizzy from lack of food. Downstairs. Now."

Only two people could safely take such a tone of voice with Vincent. Tifa was one of them. The door opened and Vincent shuffled past Tifa, looking mildly embarrassed.

"Thank you," she said, and followed him.

In the dining room, Cloud and the kids are waiting more-or-less patiently. This means that Cloud was carefully talking Marlene out of flinging a bit of carrot at Denzel, because that could start a culinary war that would get the kids sent to bed and Cloud banished to the garage.

Tifa herded Vincent to his seat, then took her own place and began handing dishes around. Tonight's main dish was a seafood and rice combination, a dish popular in Costa del Sol and surrounding areas.

"I hear you've got a date," Cloud commented.

"Where did you hear that?" Vincent asked.

Tifa kicked Cloud in the shin under the table.

"Nowhere. What time?"

"What time is what?" Vincent murmured, not looking up.

"What time is whatever you've been fussing about all day? I know there's something."

"Eight."

"Awww, we won't be here!" Denzel complained. "I wanted to meet your girlfriend!"

Vincent choked. While he coughed, Cloud directed a quizzical look at Tifa.

"I promised a movie if report cards were good, and they were."

"And I'm not invited?"

"You don't like animated movies, remember?"

"Are we gonna be able to meet her, Tifa? Any chance at all?"

"No, I'm afraid not. The movie starts at eight, so we have to be there. Cloud can meet her and tell us when we get home, if you two are still interested."

"There will be no-"

"You're family," Tifa said firmly. "We're allowed to get excited when you've got a date."

"It's not a date!"

"Suuuure," Cloud chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that."

Vincent did a bad job of hiding his sulking for the rest of the meal. Denzel was put on dishwashing duty, Cloud dried, and Vincent retreated upstairs before anyone could say or ask anything else.

By quarter after seven, Tifa had herded the kids out of the house. Downstairs, Cloud stretched out on the couch and flipped idly through a motorcycle magazine. Vincent paced in his room, battling a severe case of stomach butterflies and wondering if it was safer to climb out the window or go out the front door and deal with whatever Cloud might have to say as he did so.

At half-past, Cloud was engrossed in an article on modified bikes. Upstairs, Vincent straddled his desk chair, nervously kneading his stomach and wondering if it was really just butterflies.

Cloud checked the clock at ten 'til. Vincent had said eight, so unless his date was close to home, he must be getting picked up at eight.

A door banged open upstairs. Initially, Cloud thought Vincent had just realized the time and was on his way down, but the sound wasn't followed by feet on the stairs. There was a brief series of hurried footfalls, a thud, and silence. Cloud looked up at the ceiling. What was Vincent up to?

The doorbell rang at two minutes after eight.

"I'm coming!" Cloud yelled. He took the stairs two at a time, skidded on the rug in the hallway, and grabbed at the door handle for support. When he regained his balance and opened the door, he found Reno standing on the stoop.

"We're closed tonight," Cloud told him shortly. "Tifa's out."

"I'm not here to drink. I offered to play chauffer for Vinnie, since he doesn't have a car. Where is he?"

"Upstairs," Cloud said grimly. "Call whoever he's meeting and let her know he won't be coming tonight."

"Why not? What's wrong with him?"

"Some kind of stomach bug. He's in no shape to be going anywhere."

Reno let fly with a string of very creative, multilingual curses.

"Thanks for telling me," he said when he'd finished. "I'll get deliver the news…here's hoping Vin's date won't shoot the messenger."

Vincent's date didn't.

By nine that evening, Vincent had convinced Cloud that he could take care of himself, thank you, and didn't Cloud have to work in the morning? Rather than argue, Cloud told him to yell if he needed anything and went to bed.

Twenty minutes later, the window in Vincent's room slid open and someone scrambled in through it. The bed was empty, so the visitor crept out the door and down the hall. There was a light on in the bathroom, and the door was partially ajar. Inside, Vincent was slumped against the side of the bathtub. He looked up when the door creaked, and sighed.

"How on earth did you get in here?"

"I came in through the window. How are you feeling?"

"Don't ask."

Tseng chuckled and crouched beside Vincent, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of his face.

"You could have called if you weren't feeling well," Tseng reminded him.

"If I'd had warning, I would have," Vincent grumbled. He shifted, drawing his legs under him, and reached out, one hand on Tseng's shoulder, to steady himself. "Help me up."

Tseng laughed.

"I mean it."

"Who's the weaker one?" Tseng teased, putting an arm under Vincent's and pulling him up.

"Still you," Vincent sniffed.

"Oh? If memory serves me correctly, I walked out of the office under my own steam."

"You also have a temper and an ego," Vincent retorted, pulling away from Tseng so he could rinse his mouth out. "I have better control over both. That means less to keep me going. And you had time to collect yourself."

"Whatever you say," Tseng murmured. "Come on. If you can stand, you can get to bed."

Once Vincent had gotten in the bedroom door, he turned around and shooed Tseng back into the hallway.

"Getting rid of me already?"

Vincent gestured at his clothes, slacks and a button-up more suited to a night out than an attempt at sleeping.

"You don't have anything I haven't seen," Tseng said.

"Care to bet on that?"

"I'd rather not."

Satisfied, Vincent shut to the door. Tseng leaned against the wall to wait.

Tifa and the kids returned just after ten. The noise Denzel and Marlene made on their way in roused Cloud, and he stumbled out of bed and downstairs to greet them.

"Cloud!" Marlene squealed, jumping at him. "Did she come? Was she pretty? As pretty as Tifa?"

"Nobody's as pretty as Tifa," Denzel corrected. "Did he come back yet? Did he say what they did?"

"Denzel's right, Marlene," Cloud said, bending down to pick her up. "But no, she didn't come. And Vincent never left."

"He didn't? What happened?"

"He got sick. Reno dropped by to pick him up, so I had him let Vincent's date know he wasn't going to make it."

"Oh, the poor guy," Tifa murmured sympathetically. "Cloud, can you put the kids to bed? I want to check on Vincent."

"Yeah, sure. Come on, you two. Bed."

While Cloud herded the two giggling kids into their rooms, Tifa knocked gently on Vincent's door.

"What?"

"It's Tifa. Can I come in?"

"Go ahead."

The lights were off inside. Tifa fumbled on the wall for the switch. On the bed, Vincent was little more than a lump under the blankets. Tifa could just see the top of his head from where she stood; he had really cocooned himself.

"Hey," she said softly, crossing the room and putting a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Cloud said you weren't feeling well. I'm sorry about your date."

"I've already told you. It wasn't a date."

Tifa grinned. Honestly, did Vincent expect her to believe that?

"Want me to call Reno and ask him?"

Vincent groaned and rolled onto his side, fixing Tifa with an irritated look from underneath his blankets.

"Why are you so persistent?" he complained.

Tifa shook her head.

"You signed up for this when you agreed to come with us in Nibelheim, Vincent. It comes with the package. Friends, family, and everyone keeping tabs on your love-life."

"And this is what I get for not reading the fine print."

"Exactly. How are you feeling? Cloud didn't say what you had, just that you couldn't go out."

"Just an upset stomach. I'll be fine. How was your evening?"

"Fine. The kids enjoyed it. I'll leave you alone, alright? Good night."

Vincent mumbled a response as Tifa shut the door behind her.

"I'll be fine?" Tseng repeated, pulling himself back in through the window. "This from the man who can't keep water down for more than a few minutes?"

"She'll fuss," Vincent sniffed. "And you're lucky she didn't see you."

"I doubt she would have noticed my hands on the window sill when she had you to worry about."

"Tifa takes care of two small children. She is very observant."

"You wouldn't have to worry if you'd just give in and tell them," Tseng commented, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed.

"You know I can't do that."

"Oh? Why not?"

Vincent sat up quickly, irritated by Tseng's continual insistence on bringing up the subject.

"You know perfectly-" He stopped mid-sentence. Tseng sighed and leaned across the corner of the bed to pick up the trashcan and hand it to him.

"You ought to know better than to move that fast when you're sick," he murmured, scooting up to sit beside Vincent and rub his back, waiting patiently.

"Why do you insist on pestering me about that?" Vincent croaked.

"Because it's important to me. I told Reno."

Vincent sighed heavily, accepting the water Tseng handed him.

"He's different. You're practically his father."

"What was it that Tifa said about family? You have ties to them as tight as the ones I have with Reno. Fine print, remember? Lie back down; it'll help."

Vincent did as he was told, shifting position enough to settle on Tseng's legs and force him to stay put.

"What am I supposed to say, Tseng? They're more set in their ways than Reno is…and not all of them are entirely sure about Turks yet. We've fought you enough that it's understandable, but…"

"It's just going to get harder, Vincent. Nothing can stay a secret forever."

Tseng finger-combed Vincent's hair, which was pulled back into a hasty ponytail. They stayed there for a few minutes, saying nothing.

"When Reno was late, I thought you might have given up on me," Tseng murmured softly. Vincent, who had been about to try and sleep, looked up sharply.

"What?"

Tseng shrugged.

"This was going to be the first time I managed to get you to agree to being seen in public with me, and I know it bothered you."

"You know I'd never-"

"Call it a serious case of nerves, if you like. I worry about those I'm close to. When Reno showed up, I was almost relieved when I heard that you were sick because I knew that I'd been wrong."

"Sometimes I wonder how you managed to get where you are," Vincent muttered, reaching up to grab Tseng's hand and pull it away from his hair.

"I climbed in through your bedroom window," Tseng chuckled.

"As a Turk, Tseng. I need no reminding how you wound up on my bed."

"I take care of my Turks," Tseng said simply, twisting his wrist out of Vincent's hold and lacing their fingers together. "And that helped me up."

Vincent sighed and closed his eyes.

"I'll think about it. Will that do for now?"

"For now."

Tifa pottered around downstairs for a while after Cloud had put the kids to bed and gone back to sleep himself. After she had run out of things she could do in advance for tomorrow, she padded softly back upstairs. As she passed Vincent's room, she thought she heard voices. When she paused to listen more closely, there was no noise except for the faint creak of the bed as Vincent shifted. She must have been imagining things. Shaking her head, she continued down the hall and went to bed.

Whatever was wrong with Vincent was nothing like the flu Tseng had had the previous October. Instead of constant misery, it came and went, sometimes gone long enough for him to nearly fall asleep before coming back with a vengeance. Tseng, patient as ever, stayed all night, finally dozing off around 3am, right after Vincent had finally done the same.

Tifa was up at five, showered, and started coffee before anyone else was awake. Once the machine had begun to hum softly, she headed back up stairs, intending to check on Vincent. He hadn't seemed too badly off the night before, but this was Vincent, and there was never any telling with him.

The lump on the bed was too big to be Vincent. For a split second, Tifa suspected one of Vincent's monsters before she realized that there were two bodies on the bed. Curious, she crept in and peered over Vincent's shoulder to get a look at his bedmate. Tseng was stretched out beside Vincent, one arm flung almost casually over the gunman's hip. She'd never seen either of them so relaxed before. Smiling, she tiptoed out again. There were lunches to be made and breakfast to be prepared; she didn't have the time to linger.

Tseng stirred when sunlight came in through the window. He yawned tiredly and sat up, looking down at Vincent, who was apparently still asleep.

"If you even suggest that I get up, I'll shoot you," Vincent grunted, rolling onto his stomach to hide from the light.

So he was good at faking sleep. That, or Tseng wasn't paying very much attention.

"The thought never crossed my mind," he promised, sliding off the edge of the bed and stretching. "You go back to sleep; I'll close the curtains on my way out."

"Leaving already?"

"I have to work."

Vincent sighed heavily.

"Alright," he said finally. "Thank Reno for me."

"Will do."

Tseng never saw the trip wire someone had stretched across the entry to the alley he'd used to access Vincent's window. He hit it and went sprawling right at Tifa's feet.

"Good morning," she said cheerily, as if it was normal to have the Boss Turk lying on the ground outside her home.

"Good morning," Tseng said warily, picking himself and dusting himself off.

"A little early to be out, isn't it?"

"Not for me."

"A little early to be here, maybe?"

"I-"

"You know, I'd like to thank Reno for what he did last night- you know what he was up to, right?"

"Only that it involved a company car," Tseng muttered. "Please tell me it was legal."

"It was. He was going to be chauffer for Vincent, and then he had to play messenger instead, because Vincent got sick."

"Since when does he get sick?"

"Since last night, apparently. Would you mind letting him off to come over here for lunch, so I can say thank you? You can come too, if you like. Twelve-thirty."

"It would be a pleasure."

Thankfully, Tseng's phone alarm beeped, giving him reason to excuse himself and beat a hasty retreat. Behind him, Tifa grinned. Men. Too easy.

By the time lunch rolled around, Vincent was up and moving, helping Tifa with laundry as this week's chore roster dictated. When asked how he was feeling, he replied with a curt "fine". Tifa translated that as functioning but cranky and probably tired, and left it at that. If he was feeling well enough to be helping out and picking at an orange in the kitchen, then there was no need to pester.

Reno was on time, thanks mostly to Tseng, who was driving. Both of them were surprised to see Vincent leaning against the kitchen counter with a book when they arrived.

"Feelin' better?" Reno asked.

"Mmm?" Vincent murmured, not looking up.

"I asked if you were feeling better. From what Cloud said, you were real sick last night."

"Just a minor bug," he said shortly, turning the page.

Reno gave up trying to talk to him and switched his attention to Cloud, who was doing local deliveries today and was therefore required to eat lunch with the family - it was parent-teacher conferences at school and the kids had the day off.

"It's ready!" Tifa announced, carrying a steaming dish to the table. Cloud, Marlene, and Denzel recognized the spicy smell that accompanied it; it was the paella from the night before. Tifa had a habit of miscalculating when she was making rice dishes, and it was not at all uncommon to see them at lunch the following day. Since this one had been a success, there were no comments or complaints.

Vincent made a point of seating himself between Denzel and Reno at one corner of the table, catty-corner from where Tseng had wound up. He refused to make eye contact.

Near the end of the meal, Tseng, who had been discretely trying to get Vincent's attention since he'd sat down, noticed that Vincent was starting to look uncomfortable. Denzel noticed as well.

"Mr. Valentine?"

"Yes?"

"Are you- ack!"

Vincent got up fast and without checking to see how close he was to Denzel's chair. He bolted, leaving Denzel sprawled on the floor, more surprised than hurt.

"I'll handle this," Tseng said quickly, and followed Vincent.

Cloud looked at the empty doorway Vincent had vanished through, then at his plate.

"He's allergic to something in the paella," he said finally. "Tifa, what's in this?"

"Rice, spices, mussels-

"I'll bet that's it. The mussels."

"You think he's allergic to shellfish?"

"Seems likely."

"Shouldn't we go check on Mr. Valentine?" Marlene asked.

"Yeah," Denzel added, picking himself up. "I think he's still sick."

"I'll go," Cloud said. "You two stay put."

Upstairs, Cloud found Tseng kneeling beside Vincent, who was in the middle of being violently sick. Tseng looked up when Cloud knocked on the doorframe.

"He'll be fine," he said quietly.

"Yeah, probably. Tifa and I think it's a food allergy."

Tseng raised an eyebrow at that.

"Really? To what?"

"Shellfish."

Tseng considered this, then nodded slowly.

"In the paella?"

"Mmhm."

"Makes sense."

Vincent groaned and made a shooing gesture in Cloud's general direction. Tseng gave Cloud a helpless shrug. Cloud nodded.

"I'm going," he said.

"Thank you."

Cloud slipped back into the kitchen. Marlene and Denzel had been shooed out to play in the backyard. Tifa had enlisted Reno's help with the dishes.

"How is he?" Tifa asked, not looking up.

"Worse than Yuffie when Cid deliberately hits every patch of turbulence he can find. He didn't want me in there. Tseng looks like he can handle it, though I have no idea when he and Vincent got to the point wher they can tolerate physical contact with each other under any circumstances."

"Since last October," Reno said. "Y'know, when I gave Tseng that stomach flu your kids brought home?"

"Oh, right. Vincent kept an eye on him."

"Yep."

"I can walk on my own," Vincent groused, making a half-hearted attempt at shrugging Tseng's arm away. "I'm not even truly sick."

"But you're close enough. Don't fuss."

Tseng settled Vincent back in bed, then went to fetch the trashcan and a glass of water, just as he had the night before.

"Are you getting a feeling of déjà vu?" he asked, dropping onto the bed.

"Don't get smart," Vincent muttered. "Come here."

Tseng stayed where he was, at the end of the bed, well out of reach from Vincent's current position.

"Tseng."

"Mmm?"

Vincent patted the pillow beside his. Tseng ignored the gesture and began to lazily finger-comb his hair.

"I don't recall being this much of a nuisance when you were sick," he muttered.

"But you aren't sick, remember?"

"I'll get up and come to you if I have to," he threatened.

Tseng rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, then pulled himself up onto his knees and crawled up to join Vincent. As soon as he stopped moving, Vincent leaned into him. He smiled and put an arm around the gun-man's shoulders, bringing his hand around to stroke the line of his jaw.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to bring up the subject of coming out to your companions," he commented. Vincent groaned.

"Not again," he complained. "It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours since the last time, Tseng."

"I think Tifa suspects us, and Cloud just saw you hanging off me in the bathroom. If he isn't beginning to wonder, then he's an idiot."

"Tifa?"

"Well, someone set up a trip wire across the alley I used to get to your window, and Tifa was outside when I hit it. Coincidence?"

"Probably not."

"Precisely. Personally, I think we ought to tell her while she's still feeling guilty about the paella."

"Which wasn't her fault. I had no idea that-"

"She's still guilty. You didn't see her after you left. This is twice she's gotten you. Tell her now, and quit worrying. Oh, and I brought something for you."

"If this is some kind of joke, I want no part of it."

Smothering a grin, Tseng leaned over the bed and grabbed the object he'd placed there the night before and forgotten to bring out.

"Here," he said, pushing it into Vincent's hands.

Vincent stared. It was a bright green chocobo plushie.

"If I could reach my gun, I would shoot you," he said finally.

"And then Tifa would see the mess and you'd lose your sympathy points," Tseng laughed. Vincent threw the toy at him but he just handed it back. "It helps, once you get over the childishness of it."

"Have you named it?"

"I call it Vincent."

Vincent stared at Tseng, who managed to keep an entirely straight face for about a minute before giving up and laughing fit to burst.

"No, I haven't. I don't spend enough time with it for that."

"You spend time with it at all?"

"I can think of three occasions when you weren't here and I needed company."

"What? When was-" Vincent grabbed his trashcan Tseng rolled his eyes at the timing and dutifully comforted Vincent.

"You were saying?" he asked dryly when Vincent was once against slumped against his chest.

"When was I not here and what happened that you, of all people, needed company?"

"First time was in January," Tseng said, ticking it off on his finger. "Even I am susceptible to post-holiday depression."

"I was gone for two days."

"Second, in mid March. Reno was so kind as to spread his cold all over the office and you were in Wutai."

"It was Yuffie's birthday. I'd like to see you get out of what amounts to an order from Wutai's next ruler."

"Leviathan save us," Tseng muttered. "Finally, last month. I get shot with some drug cocktail and shoved down three flights of stairs, and you aren't even on this continent when I finally got home. I think I'm allowed to sulk when all I have to comfort me is a stuffed chocobo."

"Alright, you win," Vincent said weakly. "We'll tell them."

"Don't waste the effort. We could hear you at the head of the stairs."

Tseng and Vincent both jumped, which would have been funny if it hadn't been immediately followed by Vincent throwing up again. Cloud and Tifa were standing in the doorway, and Reno was behind them.

"You guys are so busted," Reno laughed. "I'll go keep an eye on the kids, Teef." He gave a sloppy two-fingered salute and left.

"Vincent and I are…seeing each other," Tseng said slowly, arranging the chocobo next to Vincent in an effort not to make eye contact. "We have been for some time."

"How long?" Cloud asked.

"Ten months," Vincent rasped. "Since last November."

"You've done a good job of hiding it," Tifa commented. "I wouldn't have guessed if it hadn't been for this morning."

"This morning?" Tseng repeated, looking to Vincent in the hopes that he had some idea as to what Tifa was talking about.

"You fell asleep together. I came in to check on Vincent and there you were."

"It is considered rude, in most societies, to put a tripwire where your guests are likely to hit it," Tseng said acidly.

"And it's also rude to enter a house through the second-floor window without telling anyone."

"Touché," Tseng muttered, turning red.

"How did you get up there, anyway? There isn't even a drain-pipe to climb."

"In the words of Yuffie," Tseng said, trying to sound as dignified as possible.

"He has ninja skills," Vincent snickered, finishing the line that he had heard on multiple occasions, whenever Tseng didn't want to explain himself.

Cloud had heard the excuse more than a few times himself, and laughed. Tifa shook her head.

"It might have been easier to tell us earlier," she pointed out.

"That would be his fault."

"I got that from the argument you two were having before we got up here. Vincent, this is another part of that fine print you mentioned yesterday; like it or not, we will find about your love life sooner or later, and it's up to you to decide whether it turns into a soap-opera worthy drama like this or not. Okay?"

Thoroughly cowed, Vincent nodded.

"Great. Come on, Cloud, we have dishes to wash."

It was quiet in Vincent's room until the footsteps had faded from the stairs. Then Tseng smiled and kissed Vincent's forehead.

"You're lucky to have them."

"I know."

The author wished to announce that she is still taking requests and suggestoins, and that this story is proof that she does pay attntion to what people say or ask. If you do belive her, go to the reviews for A Little Bug and see for yourself.