This is Not a Yuffentine

by Firefly99

By the time the airship finally touched down, I was feeling unwell, dizzy, upset, and downright sick. Of course, I didn't actually throw up on this journey, but I did feel rough. In fact, I was so pleased that the whole goddamn endurance test was over, I went leaping straight over the rail on the top deck.

Or rather, I would have if Inflate-a-Chest hadn't grabbed the back of my top just as I was beginning to jump.

"Wha!?" I responded, shoving her hand away.

She just responded with an annoyingly maternal smile. "It's 11 PM, Yuffie."

"Yeah. The Human Chimney oughta fly faster. The trip ran overdue."

"Yeah," Inflate-a-Chest laughed, "and so it's time for bed. We'll be climbing the mountain tomorrow. Get some rest."

"But Spikes said –" I began, but then remembered that Inflate-a-Chest didn't know about the Anti-Brat lessons and I wanted it to stay that way. "Ahh, forget it."

"What? What did he say?" asked Inflate-a-Chest, leaning over curiously.

"It's nothing. Really."

"Come on. It doesn't matter. You're among friends here," she said, smiling cheerfully.

"Um...Look, it really doesn't matter, OK!?" I had slipped up big time, and I knew it. And now Inflate-a-Chest was going to interview me to purloin every single bit of info on Spikes I had.

"Oh. So...It can't be that embarrassing, can it?" she grinned.

"Who are you, the Shinra Interrogation Unit? Go away!"

"Ah. So, basically, yeah. Um." Inflate-a-Chest swallowed. "Time for bed."

"But –"

"Come ON!" she yelled, grabbed me in a headlock ("HEY!! Watch it!! You psychopath!! ARRGH!!" was my very very appropriate response) and dragged me into the operations room.

Inflate-a-Chest had obviously been busy arranging the sleeping bags and mattresses around the room. Hoping that Inflate-a-Chest wouldn't notice, I began to, as surreptitiously as possible, drag Spikes's bag (royal blue, standard SOLDIER surplus) next to mine (mid green, light blue flower print, way too girly for my liking, but beggars can't be choosers, and at least it wasn't pink). With any luck, it would mean Spikes and I could sneak out.

"What are you doing?" said Inflate-a-Chest, who'd obviously noticed what I was doing despite my incredible ninja stealth skills. I hate her.

"Um..." I tried to think of a plausible excuse quickly, and failed. "Feng Shui."

"Riiight," Inflate-a-Chest sighed. "Ah, well. We've got a big day tomorrow, y'know. We're climbing the mountain, going to North Corel, and heading across the Ropeway. Cid's team should come and deliver the Highwind outside Corel whilst we do that. Did that make sense?"

"Maybe," I replied.

"OK. I'll get the others. It's time to sleep."

-------

The lights were off. The room was quiet, save for the occasional breathing or yawning noise. Vincent, God of Sex, however, was lying on top of his sleeping bag (black, red lining, surprisingly cheapo for its appearance) and lying down, arms crossed over his chest, legs clamped together, eyes closed. He looked like a horror movie vampire in his coffin.

Well, a sexy one.

OK, OK. Truth is, along with moving Spikes's bag, I moved Vincent's next to mine as well. (Cloud to the left of me, Vinnie to the right – here I am, stuck in the Highwind with you...)

I stared blankly at the ceiling in the darkness. The little smoke detector indicator light blinked on-off-on-off until I thought I was gonna scream from the repetition of it all. Still, I didn't. I sat quiet as a shadow, like all those famous ninjas from antiquity, and I listened. I listened like a safecracker, trying to hear the slightest trace of anyone else snoring...

Finally, after waaaay too long a wait, I saw two tiny pinpricks of eerie green light in the darkness on the left. Spikes's eyes - Cloudy!!

"The coast is clear, Yuff," he whispered. His voice is real real soft anyway, so he could quite easily have spoken in his usual voice and no-one would have woken up. But hey, he whispered. Probably a good thing too. Tifa didn't seem like she was particularly zonked, from what I could hear.

"You sure?" I mouthed. Even my whisper was loud enough to wake the dead, so I just hoped that Spikey's night vision actually worked.

"Positive."

"Even Teefie?" I hissed. At her nickname, she stirred in her sleep, and muttered something like, '...not the orange socks, Vincent doesn't like the taste...'

"I think so. Come on!"

Amazing how tired you get after lying still for half an hour, isn't it? I practically had to crawl out of the bag, then force my exhausted bones into a standing position. All this absolutely silently – not that this was too hard with my ninja skills, but still it's a lot to think about all at once. Too late, I realised that by lying Vinnie next to me, I had caused myself an inconvenient obstruction-

"Eyaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!!" I screeched, going flying over Vincent's sleeping body/corpse. I had to wonder about Vincent's current level of vitality, because, for some reason, Vinnie didn't wake up. Sadly, Tifa, Cid and Barret did.

The light went on.

"For God's sake, Yuffie," Tifa moaned, "it's 1 AM…"

"Aaa?" groaned Barret. "Li'l brat…shuddup!! I need sleep 'ere!!"

The Human Chimney rapidly fired off five or six profane adjectives and buried himself in the sleeping bag.

OK. I'll have to use the old I'm-going-to-the-toilet standby.

"Wait…Cloud?" Inflate-a-Chest asked, rubbing her eyes furiously.

Uh oh. Spikes was standing up too!! Right, we're dead. Because I couldn't exactly say I was going to the toilet WITH CLOUD.

The Spikester has much more talent at coming up with acceptable excuses than I, so I gave him a very slight hand gesture, commonly known as the middle-finger salute, so as to get him to talk. Instead he shot me a Look of Painful Death. And believe me, with his blue laser eyes, that's scary.

"Well…" I began, "I was just going to get a glass of water…"

"And I wasn't asleep, saw her get up, and decided to check if anything was wrong," Cloudsy concluded.

The others seemed to be buying it.

"Jus' don't do it again," moaned Barret, and curled into a foetal position. Ever seen someone Barret's size in a foetal position? Nope? You haven't lived.

The Amazing One Hundred and Forty-Five Percent Woman (oh? That's Tifa.) nestled down into her sleeping bag. Parental Advisory Explicit Content (Cid…) muttered another couple of sleepy swearwords, and lay back down.

Sighing, I flopped back down onto my bag. More sucky sucky waiting…

It was then I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of someone muttering a short incantation in the words of the Ancients -

My heart skipped several beats. Someone was going to try to kill us!! There'd be fire and ice and lightning and stuff-

So I was quite relieved when Barret instantly began to snore.

I glanced around. "Spikes?" I mouthed.

"You didn't think of this," he breathed, and I saw him holding a pair of materia in one hand.

Sleep, I guessed. And an All.

"They'll be out for the count for at least another five or six hours," he whispered. "As long as no-one wakes them up."

I nodded. "Not bad. But I coulda come up with it if you'd given ME the Seal-"

"Shh!" Spikes hissed.

Barret snored again. I haven't given Barret a nickname, because he's…Barret. He really doesn't need one.

Spikes handed me the materia. "Let's go," he said, picking his way over towards the door. I was about to leave, but then I paused, and turned around… Barret was still snoring, and Tifa was rolling around in her sleep each time he did so.

I gave one glance behind me to check Spikes wasn't watching, focused a tiny bit of my energy into the soul of the materia, and cast the Silence spell on Barret.

Then, after my little altruistic act, I turned and followed Spikes outside.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Let me tell you this.

I bet you've read one of those slushy romantic novels or watched a slushy romantic movie, or at least a gory action movie with some romance in it at some time in your life.

Now, you know that bit where the ghastly heroine turns to the unfanciable hero at night (usually they're on a balcony gazing out at the stars or something) and simpers, 'Oh, wow! It's so beautiful!!" at the hero?

Well, the movie directors forget one thing.

Sure, the stars are pretty, the moon is gorgeous – even Meteor is pretty, but the night is also FRIGGIN' COLD.

Not to mention even with the goddamned moon in the sky it's still damn near pitch black. Which was almost exactly what I screamed after I went flying over the fifth pipe that the Human Chimney's ship sprouted to trip me. (I've never seen those stupid pipes before in daylight. It figures, doesn't it? The ship is sentient. It is on a mission to destroy humanity. Or at least the part of humanity that insults the Human Chimney, the Ship of Evil's beloved daddy.)

"Come on, Yuff," said Spikes as he ran forward.

"S'alright for you, Mako-man," I snarled at him, using the nickname I use for him when I'm really jealous/pissed off. "God knows you're immune to heat and cold an' all that jazz. I could lock you in a - a cryogenics tube, dammit - and you'd come out feelin' like a million gil. Jenova must be the cheap substitute to ever having to wear a coat. Either that, or your hair acts as an insulator or something. Like those dinosaurs with the plates on their back-"

I finally stopped my chain of insults and comparisons when I noticed that Spikes wasn't listening. He hates being called 'Mako Man'. He really doesn't like to be reminded of the fact that he isn't human – at least, not in the traditional sense – but...I think there's another reason as well.

I don't know a lot about SOLDIER stuff, but I do know that Mako therapy is long, painful and very expensive, so I'm guessing that the Shinra don't just give it to the regular grunts. (They're misers in Shinra, the lot of 'em.) He told us that he was a Sephiroth clone, and another time that he tried to get into SOLDIER and failed, but that can't be right – he's different to those cape-wearing psychos – and anyway, he could remember the Nibelheim Massacre pretty accurately, according to Tifa. Could all his memories of Tifa and Nibelheim have been planted in his head?

And if you take his second theory, then – 'jeeeep-ers crepers, how did he get those eyes?' OK, OK, I won't sing again. Fine then. Killjoy.

I'm no detective, but I'm willing to bet that there's something funny going on.

Spikes is hiding something from us, and that's final.

My little chain of thought was broken by the Death Ship of Evil extending yet another of its Pipes of Doom and tripping me up. For the sixth time so far.

"ARGH!!" I yelled at him. I was met with the most aggressive silence I've ever not-heard - a kind of silence that Vincent would shudder at. I physically winced. "Hey, Spikes? Affectionate much?"

"I think we're far enough away from the ship," he eventually sighed. Turning to face me, his eyes fell on my shorts.

Needless to say, I took this the wrong way. "Can we go one day without you staring at my-"

"What's that in your pocket?"

"Huh?" I looked down at my pocket. Yup. A round bulge, as if I'd stuck a materia down there. But I knew it wasn't one. And I knew that Spikes was - again - being neurotic and paranoid around my…little kleptomaniac tendencies, which we all know I have but refuse to mention.

"It'd better not be one of mine," Spikes growled.

"No!" I squealed. "Why'd you always have to be so uptight? See?" Grinning (It's incredibly hard to get one over on the Spikester) I drew the offending item from my pocket and showed it to him.

It was a little lime-green rubber ball. I'd brought it for fifty gil from a toy vending machine in Costa del Sol. I wanted to use it as a stressball in case I needed something to take my mind of the - urgh - airsickness, but it was far too solid.

Spikes reached out and took it from me, feeling it as if he was checking that I hadn't magically disguised his beloved materia as a harmless little toy, or something. Stupid paranoid spiky-headed -

"…Sorry," he apologised, handing it back. I stuffed it back in my pocket.

"Well, that little interlude is over, so let's get going," I hissed.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"You have to stand up straight." Spikes told me for the third time in a smug tone.

Bloody stand up straight?! Who did Spikes think I was, Jelly Girl?

"I am, you idiot!" I shouted into the cold, uncaring night. It would be nice if the night happened to send back a lightning bolt, or something equally destructive, to maim Spike or something. Maybe fuse his mouth shut?

"Like this, okay?" Suddenly, Spikes stood up real straight. And I don't mean the "No slouching!" kind you get from your dad when he's trying to tell you to be a 'Proud Wutaian Lady' or whatever. I mean he started looking...cute. Not to mention menacing, and with his oh-so-calm, killer eyes...he was almost as gorgeous as Vincent! My mind placed Spikes into a Vincent-like cloak thing, and I nearly fainted. Astonishingly astonishingly hot, he was...mmm, Cloudy...

If you're confused at this point – His Spikiness had started off on posture and gait. (This is because, quoth Cloud, 'After having all those irritating SOLDIER academy drill sessions, I'm an authority on that. But I'm not an authority in making girls look cute.')

And, you know what?

There's only so much walking-around-like-a-pole's-been-shoved-up-your-bra that a person can do without making their back feel like it's been on a rack.

But still, back to what was going on, hey?

"You alright?" Spikes asked, tilting his head to the side ever-so-slightly.

"What? Yeah? Oh, yep, I'm fine." Well, so it wasn't the world's most articulate answer, but it suited my purpose adequately. "Why?"

"You just glazed over for a sec there. It's nothing."

"Well, OK. Right. Am I doing it right now?" I asked, feeling my hips make a noise like a popcorn machine as I tried to reassemble myself into Spikes's posture.

"Nope. You look like someone's just stuck several thousand volts up your –"

" – Hey? How about now?"

"Better, but not really…" Spikes said, eyes flicking over my body. Then he pointed at me. "You know, if you were in SOLDIER academy, Sephiroth would have given you a haircut by now."

I slackened back into my usual position, out of surprise. "What? Haircut?"

"Yeah. He'd take out the Masamune, tell you to keep still, and slice off as much hair as he could."

"Sounds nice," I said, sarcastically. "Did he do it to you?"

"Yes, once…" His eyes glazed over as he recalled old and fuzzy memories. "Yeah. There were these …boys…who used to like beating me up. One day I got mad and hit back. That was when Sephiroth saw me. Of course…the other guys were, y'know, commended by SOLDIER, so I was instantly seen as the aggressor…" He tugged idly at the short hair at the nape of his neck, where it joined his head. "Used to have a ponytail…I was trying to grow my hair out, so it would look like Sephiroth's. That went. After realising what an inconvenience it'd been, I didn't bother trying to grow it back."

"Right. Weird. Nice sob story, or whatever the hell that little thing was, but can we get back to my posture now?" I yelled, partly impressed by the story, but mostly irritated that he was ignoring me.

"Fine, fine," he sighed. "Seriously, it's not that hard. Just do what I do."

I watched, half-interested, as he did it again. Until he was doing it, that is. Because, in the SOLDIER stance, Cloud looked so incredibly sexily menacing. (Don't mix it up with menacingly sexy. The meaning changes a tad – uh, a tad? I've been hanging around His Spikiness too much.)

"But...I CAN'T!" I burbled, and threw my hands up in frustration. "I don't think I bend the right way! Or something like that..."

Spikes threw up his hands in frustration. "Try and imagine there's a string going from the top of your head – oh, whatever."

"What?" I said, but he'd vanished. I tried to spin around, but then I felt a pair of hands grab my waist.

"AAARGH!!" I wailed. But Spikes just pressed his hand into the small of my back, and I heard something there go click. Then he let go.

I took a step forward, wincing. "Spikey, mate, never become a chiropractor."

Spikes just stared back with a decidedly smug expression on his face. And that was when I realised...

I was doing it! The SOLDIER stance!

"I rule!" I yelled, punching the air. "I can do it! I'm the best! Everybody else SUCKS!" Then Spikes caught my eye, and I continued. "Well, except that guy Cloud. He's pretty cool. And that guy-slash-demon Vinnie, who's pretty hot. By the way what exactly did you do?"

"Just a simple spinal stretch. You can do it to yourself, if you want. I could show you," Spikes said, with a slight smile.

"...I think I'll pass on that," I sighed. "But hey, it worked. Or something."

"You're going to have to walk and stand like that whenever possible, Yuff-Yuff."

"Well, that might be a bit hard to remember but – aaahp, what did you just call me??"

"Yuff-yuff," he repeated. Again, I could swear that he was grinning, but he couldn't be. "Don't you like it?"

Well, to be honest, I hated it with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, but I couldn't tell Cloud that.

Because, despite the way I'd usually just yell it through a megaphone or whatever the hell, I felt really strange. I didn't mind that he'd called me that...somehow. I wondered why for a sec, and then told him;

"I hate it with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, but for some reason I didn't mind so much as I should have done."

Well, honesty is the best policy.

But it probably wasn't appropriate for this particular situation.

"Fine. I won't call you Yuff-yuff," Cloud said, looking slightly confused.

"No, go ahead, whatever the hell," I said, shrugging. My back went click again.

"Well, as I was saying, the only way you're gonna learn is by remembering to stand and walk like that at every possible opportunity. I don't want to nag you, but I will get on your case if you don't," Cloud said, in that slow, clear, listen-and-obey-for-I-am-your-leader-on-high type voice.

"Argh. So I have a lot to look forward to, then," I whimpered. "Come on. We've got a few hours of sleep we can get –"

But Spikes wasn't listening. He'd gone off, in another direction –

– towards the mountain.

"Spiky-headed dolt!" I shouted after him. He took no heed. So, I did the thing that a normal sweet caring person would do.

I ran up behind him and kicked him in the backside.

He turned.

"Posture," he said, and continued with his brisk striding towards the foot of the mountain.

Sighing, I drew myself up straight. "What the hell? Are you friggin' nuts?" I said, jogging behind him.

Spikes just gave a brief chuckle, and gazed upwards at the top of the mountain. The fading moon silhouetted the rough, flattish peak. It was miles up. Many many miles up. But I felt like I could just reach out and carve 'YK WOZ 'ERE' on the moon…

"We're not gonna climb it now, are we?" I hissed.

"Posture."

"Quit that!" I growled, not having realised that my shoulders had slackened. I straightened up into the SOLDIER posture. Again.

"No, we aren't going to climb it now. But…" The hint of a smile appeared at his lips, "…isn't it…"

"Big?"

"No…more…amazing."

Spikes stepped back. His heavy SOLDIER standard issue boots went crunch on the natural gravel around the area at the mountain's foot.

"It's funny. It doesn't quite fit into your imagination, does it?" he said, softer than usual, but his eyes were falling on –

Meteor?

"What?"

"You think, 'It's going to destroy the Planet' and you don't feel a pang of pain. Think of this mountain being flattened by it…even that's hard, but imagine the Nibelheim town well splintering under the impact and you can barely stop the tears…"

Since when had Spikes cared about anything except Sephy, his oversized meat cleaver and his own past? I swallowed. A lump had stopped up my throat for some reason. I wasn't used to seeing him like this.

"I…I must be tired," he sighed, as if that justified everything. But then he fixed me with a total mention-this-to-anyone-else-and-paint-my-blade look.

"…Cloud…" I said, quietly to myself. I was speechless, OK? Lost for words! It happens to us all, y'know?

"You…you really like Vincent, right?" Cloud said in a desperate bid to change the subject, scratching his head.

I replied without pause. "Duh? What kind of a question is that?"

"Right. You sure he isn't going to be moping about Lucrecia too much to notice?"

That, to be honest, was my number one fear at the moment. Cloud gave a nervous chuckle.

I took the ball out of my pocket, giving it a thoughtful squeeze. How did this go? How would I explain?

I threw the ball, and it bounced off a rock at the mountain's foot. Then I caught it and showed it to Spikes.

"See this ball?"

"Yes…"

I threw it again. Bounce, catch, show Cloud.

"See? When I bounce it against that rock, it wears away a tiny tiny tiny bit of rock, right? Too small to see – or even matter."

"I suppose…"

"So," I said, lobbing it again, "if I keep bouncing my ball again and again, bounce bounce bounce, I'll eventually wear down the entire rock. Then this entire mountainside. Then the mountain. And when this whole mountain is a completely flat plain because I've bounced my ball on it so many times –"

"–yes? –"

"That, Cloudy, is when I will have gotten over Vincent."

<><><><><><><><>

The quality of these things seems to be deteriorating. Honest. First chapter ruled, next chapter was passable, this chapter was poor – but long. Perhaps I can fool the gullible masses into believing this is good – ah? Did I say that out loud? Ooops.

Well, review, even if it's just, 'i liek XD XD XD ' – a boring, badly spelt review is better than no review at all. Please. I'm having a roughish time at the moment, and reviews always make my day.

Everyone seems to be cycling on who's the most OOC, right? I mean, in Chapter 1, Vinnie was out; in Chapter 2, Yuffie; in this one; Cloud.

Oh yeah, and I have to apoligise to Timmy Turner of Fairly Odd Parents for stealing his 'white-hot intensity of a thousand suns' line, and Bender Bending Rodriguez of Futurama for his 'I'm the best! Everybody else SUCKS!' line. (What a cool name, by the way.)