A/N: Inspired by chores, written while eating three pieces of chocolate cake. Not meant to be in anyway a romantic fic.

Laundry

Yuffie waited desperately as she heard a crash and the sound of pounding steps racing up the stairs. She tore her eyes away from the horrifying sight before her long enough to see the door fly open so hard it smashed into the wall, taking out a chunk of plaster, and Tifa sprint into the room, battle ready.

Yuffie just stared at her, unable to find the words to break the news to her friend who was like a sister to her. Tifa, for her part, having scanned the room and seeing no threat, had a growing scowl on her face, which she directed at Yuffie.

“Yuffie, why did you scream like that? I thought you were being attacked! And, oh shit look at my wall!” she exclaimed unhappily, staring at the white patch of crumpled drywall peering out warily from the normally green wall.

“Look what you made me do!” Tifa turned back to her, her finger raised and mouth open, both ready to double-team Yuffie in a lecture, before she paused, and narrowed her eyes in concern, the accusing pointing hand dropping back down to her side.

“Yuffs, what’s the matter? You’re really pale...”

Yuffie swallowed, vainly attempting to speak past the horror blocking her throat. Gulping several times, she finely managed to stutter out at least a mildly coherent sentence.

“Teef, he’s g-gonna kill me, Teef,” she choked out.

Tifa looked at her with eyes widened in alarm. “Yuffie, who’s going to kill you, what are you talking about?”

Shaking, Yuffie held up her hands, bringing Tifa’s attention to the object she held.

Tifa’s hands flew to her mouth in a gasp. She took a step back, shaking her head in mute horror.

Yuffie just let her hands fall once more.

Tifa looked back up at Yuffie, her hand also lowering from her face.

Then she began to snicker.

Yuffie felt a flash of annoyance through her terror. “What? It’s not funny! He’s gonna kill me!”

Tifa nodded. “Yes, yes he is, my God, Yuffie, I can’t believe – “ she broke off in another snort of laughter, biting down on her lip to stop a full out chuckle from emerging.

Yuffie glared at her. “Okay, some friend you are, having fun when I’m on my goddamn deathbed.”

Tifa just gave another rather unladylike snort of laughter, before finally letting loose the laughter she’d been trying to withhold.

“I am so videotaping this,” she said between laughs. She turned to stagger weakly from the room, ignoring Yuffie’s beseeching look from behind her.

“Wait, Tifa, no, I need your help, what should I do-“

“Tifa?”

Yuffie froze. Tifa froze as well, before shaking herself and looking back at Yuffie, staring at her.

Yuffie shook herself, feeling her heart-rate speed up as she began to panic.

“What do I do?” she hissed at Tifa. Tifa just shrugged, and opened her mouth to say something, but the voice drifted from down the hallway again.

“Tifa? Is everything alright? I heard a bang.”

The voice was closer this time. Yuffie swore, looking around for an escape route.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit I am so –

BORED.

Yuffie groaned, rolling over onto her stomach, cheek pressed flat against the cool wood of the table. She was tired of watching the ceiling fan spin round and round.

“Tifa!” she yelled, voice muffled as she partially drooled on the table. “I’m bored! Give me something to do!”

“You could try doing something actually useful,” Tifa’s voice drifted out from the kitchen. The brunette appeared a moment later, wiping a glass dry. Yuffie squinted at her blearily, seeing her frown.

“And stop drooling on my table.”

Yuffie made a face at her, but slowly lifted her head. “Something useful? Like what?” she asked, eager for anything that would break the monotony of the last three days.

Stupid Leviathan, piss off and stop raining already, please-kay-thanks.

“There’s dishes that need doing,” Tifa suggested, putting the glass back in its proper place behind the bar.

“Ew. Wrinkly prune fingers aren’t really my style, Teef,” Yuffie said, idly studying her hands.

“Oh please, like you haven’t had worse things than ‘wrinkly prune fingers’ before,” she heard Tifa say derisively behind her.

“Still open to suggestions here,” Yuffie said, rolling over once more so she was on her back before slowly sitting up, legs swinging over the edge of the table.

“You could go put the laundry in.”

Yuffie frowned, but nodded, springing from the table. “Kay, I guess I could be super awesome and generous and do that for you. Is it already in the hamper, or is do I need to run around collecting it?”

“Most of it should be in the hamper already. If you want you can check the rooms. Just pick up anything on the floor. Try to not be too loud though, Vincent’s sleeping. You know how to work the machine, right?”

Yuffie was already heading up the stairs. She waved a hand in confirmation, not even turning around. “Yeah, I can handle it. Unless Sephiroth’s lurking in the dryer, then I might need to call for some backup.”

She heard Tifa laugh, and she grinned, peering into the various bedrooms along the 2nd floor of the bar. She had already put in most of her laundry; she gathered up one lonely tank, crumpled on the floor, before moving on to Tifa’s room. Finding it spotless, she checked Cloud’s, picking up a pair of dirt-caked pants and a rather tattered shirt. She moved on to the laundry room, dropping the darks into the machine. Pouring in the soap, she dropped the lid shut with a clang. Going to turn it on, she frowned, hesitating. What about Vincent’s stuff? He might have some laundry.

Making up her mind, she spun away from the machine, heading past the laundry room to where Vincent’s door stood slightly ajar. Using all her ninja stealth, she slowly opened the door just wide enough to poke her head in.

Waiting for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom of the room, she peered about. Vincent lay on the bed, his back to her, his soft breathing barely audible. Yuffie watched him for a moment, smiling, before returning her thoughts to the task at hand and her eyes to the floor. After a brief scan, she found nothing, and made to draw her head back into the hallway.

She stopped though, something catching her eye. Looking down, she saw Vincent’s trademark red cloak hanging from the doorhandle. Despite the poor light, Yuffie could see numerous dirt and grass stains dotting the cloth. She debated for a moment, then gave a shrug and snaked one hand around the door to soundlessly lift the garment and pull it back into the hallway before pulling back and heading for the laundry room. She threw the cloak in, and turned the machine on, whistling to herself as she turned and left.

An hour later, she strolled back into the room. Opening up the dryer, she moved and yanked the washing machine lid open, pulling out the damp clothes and throwing them carelessly into the dryer in huge handfuls. Scooping out the last orphaned sock and throwing it in, she closed the dryer and turned it on, before returning to the machine to throw in the lights load.

She had come upstairs to remove the darks from the dryer and replace them with the lights that had just finished going through.

Now she stood clutching a certain red cloak that was dry, clean, and smelt of Bounty.

It was also several sizes smaller that what it had been originally.

And so...

Oh shit oh shit oh shit I am so dead.

“Tifa? Are you alright?”

Vincent came into view, outlined by the doorframe. Yuffie hurriedly hid the cloak behind her back, clutching it nervously. Vincent, noticing the sudden movement, looked over.

“I’m fine, Vincent. Yuffie was just doing the laundry, weren’t you, Yuffie?”

Yuffie glared at Tifa for a moment before painting a maniacal grin on her face and turning her attention to the gunslinger watching her from the doorway.

“Yes, yes, I was, um, hi Vinnie! Good nap?”

Vincent, somehow, managed to keep his face perfectly expressionless while still saying very clearly through his body language ‘what-the-hell-is-up-with-you’.

“Yes, Yuffie. Are you okay?”

Tifa, who had slipped out of the room and was now standing behind Vincent, was doubled over, biting down on her hand to stop from laughing. Yuffie found this was not helping her at all concentrate on somehow distracting Vincent.

“Dandy, perfect, fantastic, thanks for asking,” she replied very quickly, feeling a blush spread across her face as she attempted to keep the grin off her face.

Vincent was now eyeing her with a definite look of concern.

Behind Vincent, Yuffie saw Tifa straighten up, grinning – there was no other way to describe it - very, very evilly.

“Yuffie, don’t you have some clean laundry for Vincent?”

Yuffie stared at her in disbelief. Tifa just kept grinning, obviously taking a sadistic enjoyment from the situation.

Oh no she didn’t, she did not just-

“Yuffie?”

Her eyes flickered back to Vincent, who had definitely picked up on the fact that something odd was going on. She swallowed, trying to think of something that was either incredibly intelligent to say or something so mind-boggling to say that Vincent’s IQ would plummet into the negatives.

Instinct suddenly kicked in.

“LOOK, PAMELA ANDERSON!” she yelled, whipping out one hand to point dramatically at Tifa.

Vincent froze, mouth opening slightly. Tifa froze as well, staring at Yuffie. Yuffie looked between the two of them, wondering what was wrong.

Then she looked at her outstretched hand.

She was still holding the cloak.

She giggled weakly. Vincent’s jaw dropped in horror. Tifa burst into laughter so suddenly it unsettled her balance and she fell over with a loud thud.

Vincent stared at the cloak, then looked back to her, then back at the cloak once more. His mouth opened and closed as he attempted to comprehend what he was seeing.

“...My cloak,” he said, sounding more shocked than if Sephiroth had been hiding in the dryer and chosen that moment to pop out.

“All nice and clean for ya, Vinnie,” Yuffie grinned weakly, trying to keep one eye on Vincent’s face and one eye on his hip, where Cerberus was holstered, glinting menacingly at her. “Even smells good!”

Vincent’s garnet gaze was torn from the garment as he turned it on Yuffie instead.

Yuffie wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor. Vincent’s stare held her in place, however.

She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to start begging for her life.

“Vince, I’ll buy you a new one, I promise, just please don’t shoot me, please-“

His stare took on a decidedly cold edge.

“You can’t buy me a new one,” he snarled, proper speech returning to him as his initial surprise wore off. Striding forward to snatch the fluttering cloak from Yuffie’s hand, he spat, “It was a specialty item, and hasn’t been made in decades. The man who designed it is dead. There is no new one.”

Yuffie blinked owlishly in the wake of the outburst. From Vincent’s hand, the cloak hung limply. Yuffie almost got the impression it had shrunk on purpose for its own entertainment.

“Erm...are you gonna shoot me?” she asked, hunching into herself to try and escape the laser glare of doom Vincent was shooting at her.

Giving one last inarticulate snarl, Vincent turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Yuffie remained as she was, a few seconds later wincing as the door to Vincent’s room slammed shut.

She slowly straightened up, feeling very surprised that she had escaped with all her limbs attached. A weak snort of laughter caught her attention, and, clenching her fists, she strode into the hallway, looking down.

Tifa lay on the floor, clutching her stomach, tear tracks on her cheeks from laughing so hard.

Yuffie shook with rage. “You are so gonna die for that, Lockhart.”

This just caused another snort to erupt from the barmaid.

Yuffie stomped her foot, crossing her arms, face twisted into a scowl.

“NOT funny! How would you like if I stuck you in the dryer and your boobs shrank, huh?”

Tifa, whom, judging by her continuing laughter, had ignored the threat, managed to pull herself into a sitting position so she was leaning against the wall. Small hiccups of laughter continued to erupt sporadically from her.

Yuffie, fuming, stormed back downstairs.

As she stomped down to the bar, she heard Tifa give a particularly loud snort behind her.

“Specialty item, Vincent, designer fashion, hah!”