This is a neat little bit that I came up with out of the blue some time ago. We get to see a snapshot of Yazmin's life after the football fiasco, and how Vincent (and Chaos) handle it. Brace yourselves, dear readers. You are in for a bumpy ride.

Maybe we should stay out a little bit longer

Maybe we should stay out a little bit longer.

No. I told Yuffie I'd help her with dinner. The football team is staying tonight, remember?

Listen to me for a change. I've got a bad feeling about this.

About what? Going home?


Then we should go and see what the problem is.

Valentine, I'm talking about our safety, not the safety of our family.

Firmly ignoring Chaos' warnings, Vincent broke into a jog, heading straight for home. Just as he was shuffling the bags in his arms to reach for the door (he'd been on grocery duty), the door opened and a flood of girls poured out, nearly knocking him over.

"Oh, hi, Mr. Valentine!"

"Hi, Yazzy's Dad!"


"Er…good evening."

Bad idea. Badbadbadbadbad.

The girls paused, silent, for a moment, then gave a collective squeal at an octave Vincent hadn't thought possible for human vocal cords.

"Okay, you guys, let my Dad in the door. We're feeding the boys tonight, remember? Dad's got groceries."

Vincent resisted the urge to thank his daughter for her timely arrival. Chaos had no trouble with it.

Thank you, Yazzy, from the bottom of my somewhat non-existent heart. You have saved us from the horror of smitten teenage girls.

Knock it off.

She did.

The girls swarmed around Vincent on their way out. Car horns honked on the road, and the girls broke into a run, calling shotgun as they went. Yazmin smiled, waved, and took two bags from her father, then sidestepped in time to avoid Yuffie, who came charging out onto the stoop, waving madly at the cars pulling away.

"Bye, girls!" she called, hopping up and down. "Come back soooooon!"

"Mom," Yazmin groaned. "Quit it. That's embarrassing."

Yuffie didn't quit it until the cars were out of sight. Then she grinned at Yazmin and stood on tiptoe to kiss Vincent.

"Welcome home."

"Who were they?" Vincent asked, kissing back and pushing a bag into Yuffie's arms.

"My new friends!"

"You never change."

"That was the cheerleading squad, Dad. They came over with the team," Yazmin explained.

"Yazmin! Where'd ya go? I'm getting slaughtered in here!" Aidan yelled from inside.

"I'm coooooming!" Yazmin called back. She shrugged at Vincent's raised eyebrow. "I'm on his team for Outburst. I'll leave these in the kitchen."

Inside, after Vincent had put the groceries down, he wandered into the living room. It was one big dog pile of bodies. He winced. Yazmin was somewhere in there- he could hear her voice. The question was, which of those jerseys was hers? They all looked the same, and most of the numbers were half covered.

She's the one lying on her back over there by the base of the couch. Aidan is sitting on the couch above her. She's got his feet trapped under her, looks like, and that's Matthias over in the loveseat, with the card-reader-thingy in his hand. Numbers 58, 95, and 64, respectively. How can you not tell? She's the only one with breasts.

I wasn't looking for breasts, Chaos. How did she get back in there so fast? It's like trying to cross a minefield.

I'll bet she can step on them without getting into much trouble.

And how would you know?

In theory, it's like trying to wade through a kennel of puppies. Avoid stepping on or kicking the ones with sharp teeth and worry about the other ones later.

Your perception of the world is astounding.

"Vinny, you promised to help me with dinner!" Yuffie caroled from the kitchen. Vincent winced. The living room enjoyed exactly 3.276 seconds of pure silence before the football team attempted a mass smothering of snickers and chuckling. Forcing a blush down, Vincent turned and stalked back into the kitchen with his best 'nothing happened' expression.

"Your Mom calls him Vinny?" Matthias asked. Yazmin nodded.

"Sometimes. She's got a lot of names for him."

"But Vinny?"



"That's my Mom for you."

Dinner was eaten wherever a seat was available. Afterwards, a playful game of football started in the backyard. Somehow, Vincent was dragged into it, forced to play opposite Yazmin. Out of the way on the porch, Yuffie yelled encouragements and showed off the cheers the cheerleading squad had taught her. Quite frankly, Vincent never thought he'd see his wife turning cartwheels, doing the splits, and yelling cheers while waving a pair of dishtowels around as makeshift pompoms.

He was too busy worrying about his wife's mental state to notice when the ball headed his way.

Pay attention! Chaos yelled.



Rather suddenly, Vincent found himself flat on his back in the grass with what looked like a third of the team on his chest and the ball in his hands.

"Daaaaaaad," Yazmin complained. "You're supposed to run with the ball."

"Sorry, Mr. Valentine," someone said quietly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"When you all get off of me, yes, I'll be fine."

Vincent played referee for the rest of the game. When it got too dark to play, the team trooped inside and began collecting their things, preparing to leave. As her mother had done with the cheerleaders, Yazmni stood on the front steps and waved as they left. Vincent watched from a safe distance.

Do you know if she's…interested in any of them?


She's old enough to have a boyfriend, and she certainly spends enough time with those jocks.

The bottom quietly dropped out of Vincent's stomach.

You didn't even think of that, did you?


I'd say now is a good time to start.

I hate your timing.

Impeccable, isn't it?