"This wasn't a date," he said, responding before he could question the fact that she was wearing a dress. "Was it?"
She was the most troubling female he had ever met. He had dealt with a number of them in his time, and he had once thought he had been quite adept at reading women's thoughts, but that had all changed when he met Yuffie.
It was her smile he had the most trouble with. It was simple and straight forward but held so many secrets.
Its biggest secret was the way she could get him to do anything whenever she flashed him a grin, her eyes wrinkling a bit at the sides, dimples denting her cheeks. He'd move mountains for that smile—he'd do many things a man as broken and discouraged as Vincent Valentine would have sworn they were no longer capable of.
"Come dance with me."
She was laughing, and he didn't even hesitate to take her hand and lead her to a secluded corner of Tifa's bar. The hot-cold metal of Vincent's gauntlet was harsh compared to the gentle curving slope of her hip, but she was happy, and he could feel the heat from her body warming the digits.
Drinks were had. As long as one kept paying, Tifa would keep pouring, and Yuffie had a wad of cash saved up from her latest materia sales. Vincent wasn't worried. She paid for several concoctions but wandered around the room, talking with her hands, gesturing broadly, laughing and sitting with strangers; with friends. He'd tag along protectively behind her as she flirted with the young men and listened to the stories told by the old men. She ended up leaving her drinks on tables, handing them off to an empty set of hands when her favorite songs started to play, or let them slosh over the rim when her laughter got the better of her.
She'd make her rounds, spill her drinks, talk to the locals, but in the end she always returned to him with a smile on her face.
And they would dance, again and again, because Yuffie loved to dance, and Vincent loved her smile, and even though it was entirely out of his character to dance with anyone, (much less in a bar to some cheesy song with a country twang) he couldn't say no to her.
"You are such a crummy dancer, Vinnie," she said, arms looped loosely around his neck, her head tilted back so she could look him in the eye. The song was fast, and he still held her close to him, wrapped in a slow dance's embrace.
"That's okay. I'm bored anyway. Wanna get some fresh air?" She asked, and she was beaming.
Naturally, he was hard-pressed to argue.
The night air was crisp, and her little cocktail dress did little to keep her warm. He went to remove his cloak, to be chivalrous and drape it over her narrow shoulders, because he was old-fashioned and because she was a princess, but she beat him to it, curling herself into him and wrapping a tattered edge of the cape around her to shield herself from the chilly breeze.
"Keep me warm, kay?"
Hesitantly, his arms settled around her.
"Wow, what a night," she commented. "Did you see how many people were in there?"
He wondered how anyone couldn't have. He had been constantly surrounded by loud people, in an atmosphere he despised; all because she had shown up at his apartment with this brazen idea that he needed a night out.
"You know, at the end of a date, there's usually a kiss."
"This wasn't a date," he said, responding before he could question the fact that she was wearing a dress, and the only other time he had seen her wear a dress was at Cid and Shera's wedding, and that was only because Cid had threatened her with a number of violent measures. "Was it?"
Of course, if she had used the word date when she had asked him to come out he might have been significantly less susceptible to the idea, but if she'd looked up at him the way she was looking at him now with the smallest most hopeful of smiles, he knew he wouldn't say no.
"I guess that depends if it ends with a kiss, don't it?" she replied, winking.
He glanced away, clearing his throat. They had danced, they had talked, and they were standing incredibly too close to be just friends: this was most certainly a date, but damn it, it wasn't his fault. If it wasn't for her grinning and giggling and being so lovely and sweet while she did so, he wouldn't have left the safe sanctity of his apartment in the first place. "Why did you ask me to come here with you?" he asked, although his better sense argued against it. She would say it was because she wanted him to go on a date with her, and she would smile that infuriating smile, and he would kiss her, because he always gave her everything she wanted when she looked at him like that.
She paused for a moment and tilted her head to one side, as if the answer was terribly obvious and he was fool for even asking. "Because you make me smile, dork."
His eyes shifted back to her face. "What?"
She stuck her fingers in her dimples and squinted, exaggerating her already wide grin.
The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and he thought that maybe it wasn't just her smiles that kept him coming back for more. It was the way her smiles brought out his.
He gently grasped her wrists and drew her hands away from her face, and when her eyes reopened, she saw the smile on his face. "You make me smile, too, Yuffie."
"I know," she replied, quite self-satisfied.
He could feel her grin against his lips when he kissed her—he could feel her whole body smiling as she pressed herself against him, her toes curling, her fingers gently gripping his arms, her shoulders relaxing.
"Date," Yuffie breathed as they parted.
"Date," he repeated.
A/N: Reviews would be lovely. :3