A/N: This was a drabble prompt from my roommate, while we were sitting on the couch, eating cheesecake. Hope you like it.


He languidly places the fork in his mouth and pulls it out clean; another bite of cheesecake gone and Yuffie has yet to taste it.

He's teasing her; of this she is well aware. How can she not be? He's sitting there, directly before her, eating up a dessert that he knows is her favorite thing in the world, with a terribly smug smirk on his face.

He eats another bite, and she squirms in her seat.

"Just a taste," she pleads, resting her chin on the heels of her palms.

The cheesecake is dwindling on the plate; one more bite and he'll have it finished. Oh he was unkind. How cruel. How heartless. She sums up all of these thoughts in a simple glare; eyes narrowed in his direction while he lifts the last bit up on his fork.

"C'mooonnn," she whines, and she clenches and unclenches her fists, crosses and uncrosses her legs, licking her lips like a wild cat eyeing its prey.

He doesn't even like cheesecake. She's sure of it, because when he sticks his fork in his mouth for the final time, the look on his face isn't elation at the delicious dessert, it is of a great sense of superiority and success derived from watching her suffer.

"That's it!" she cries, throwing her hands in the air and pushing away from the table, her chair screeching loudly on the floor. "Vincent Valentine, you had your chance. I have asked nicely, and I have asked desperately." She rolls up the sleeves she isn't wearing, and promptly climbs on top of the table that sits between them.

"Yuff—" In his shock he doesn't think to swallow and the rich cake is heavy and cumbersome on his tongue. His eyebrow rises in question as she approaches him on all fours, the table wobbling under her weight. "Wha--"

"Hold still," she demands, her hands grabbing his hair and her lips puckering. His eyes grow wide and he jerks his head away, only to have it yanked back, his lips colliding with hers.

He struggles against her for a moment, but his fighting spirit dies quite quickly when her mouth coaxes his to open and her sweet-tooth finally has access to what it wants.

Having caught the taste of it, she backs away and sits on her heels, a satisfied smile on her face.

He gives her a dry look. "Are you happy now?"

She winks. "Are you?"

He doesn't move a muscle, he doesn't even blink, but she knows that on the inside he's feeling just as smug as he had been before. She wasn't the only one who knew he never liked cheesecake very much in the first place.


A/N: Thoughts?