[d]ay: june 12; kissing number
[p]airing: Denzel, with major Vincent/Yuffie in the background
[s]ummary: Four eleven year old boys. A telephone with a full speed dial list. Denzel is really going to get it.
[n]otes: I'm going to hell.
"You promise you'll call if anything happens?" Tifa demanded, bending down to cup his cheeks in both hands.
It was difficult and embarrassing, and made him look like a fish, but he managed to nod.
"I promise," he said, his teeth forcibly clenched, thanks to her grip.
She flushed and let go, dropping her hands to his shoulders. "Oh. Sorry about that."
Tifa tended to forget that she could destroy church pews with her bare hands.
"No problem. Uhm. Are you really okay with this?"
"Yuffie and Reeve are both in town, and Yuffie says she has her Evil Aunt sense on. If you do anything crazy, she'll come over here and kick your ass six ways to Mideel. And then she'll call me."
Denzel blinked. That hadn't been part of the original deal. The original deal had been that Cloud would be coming home the next day while Tifa and Shera spent the weekened looking for a good place to have the wedding.
"Well. Alright then. I guess I'll just get going." Tifa checked to see that she had the key to the licquor cabinets. She had it.
Denzel didn't really care. He had no plans on raiding the licquor cabinets. He wasn't into drinking or any of that. Sure, Cloud and Tifa had set him down and given him all that crap about peer pressure. But he just... wasn't interested. And none of his friends were, either.
*FOUR HOURS LATER*
This had 'bad idea' written all over it. Zid's ideas usually did.
Denzel stared at the cordless phone. Tifa's phone. He had two options, so far as he could see. Either he could refuse, and all his friends would laugh at him right now and for the foreseeable future, or he could do it, and have Tifa majorly pissed at him later that month.
Zid smirked. It was that annoying I-know-you-don't-have-the-balls smirk, the one that Denzel hated hated hated.
Denzel glared and snatched the phone out of his friend's hand.
"Just dial every number on the speed dial and--"
"Put the phone to the TV speaker. I know."
Denzel grumbled and muttered. He knew the game. What he didn't know was why he had to do it.
The first number on the speed dial was emergency services. He skipped it, pretending it was blank. According to the mental lay-out of the speed dial in his head, speed dial numbers 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, and 0 were the "big name" numbers. In other words, Cloud, Reeve, Cid, Yuffie, Vincent, and Barrett-- in that order.
He whimpered at the thought of reaching any of the Avalanche numbers. Tifa had programmed them down the centre, or at least near it.
Speed dial number two was Cloud. He nearly groaned.
Fortunately, the television was turned to Dimealodiean, a children's channel. It was currently playing a popular children's cartoon, so Cloud would likely think it was an accident.
He pressed the buttons and swallowed, pressing the phone to the TV as soon as Cloud answered.
He hung up, hands shaking. Wow, he somehow wsan't dead from Cloud glaring at him through the phone.
Tidus changed the channel. This time, it was one of those movie channels. It was playing an old black and white movie. On the screen, a man in a jazz-era cap spoke with an obvious mobster.
Next on the speed dial was a restaurant. The Silent Sun.
As soon as he heard the words "Hello, Silent Sun Take-Away," he pressed the telephone against the television.
"I'm just in this for a pair of hips you can tell time by," Humphrey Bogart told the sweetiest and yet scariest Wutaian lady ever.
When he fumbled with the phone to reset the connection and dial speed 4, he heard clanging and yelling. In Wutaian.
If Yuffie ever heard about that, he was going to be so much toast.
Tidus changed the channel again. This time, it was one of the last channels before the scrambled porn channels.
"You will never believe how well this amazing carrot chopper works! It uses thermonuclear imaging and aerodynamics to cut, chop, or dice! Runs on air. Just nine easy payments of 48.67 gil!" An informercial announcer told Mrs. Downum, his maths teacher.
He heard his maths teacher grumble as he reset the connection.
The stairs were rickety and smelled ancient, despite the fact that Edge was only two years old. How, exactly, Vincent knew what seventy-year-old-stairs smelled like, he didn't know. How year-and-a-half-old stairs could smell like they were seventy was an even bigger mystery to him.
He followed Yuffie up them, wishing idly that the building air-conditioned its halls and stairways.
Then again, Yuffie had warned him of the place's cheap budget. She'd fixed the apartment up herself, and was campaigning for the manager and landlord to do the same to other apartments. Where exactly they would find the money to do this, Vincent wasn't sure, but that was Yuffie for you. She steamrolled right over logic.
The floors were hardwood, he noticed, but of an impressively shabby type. The floorboards creaked and rattled, and he wondered, distantly, if they would give way.
She was in 4d, he realized. Second floor from the top, strategically the best. Enemies from below had to go up three flights of stairs, while enemies from above would have to deal with a row of balconies, while she could just-- well, flee.
They key turned in the lock. She pushed against the door, but it didn't move.
Vincent blinked, feeling sweat pool in his headband while she fought with her apartment door.
At last, she gave it a fireman's kick and the door bounced open.
"Welcome to my humble abode. Wasn't expecting company so it's pretty dirty."
Things were obviously out of place. Odd as Yuffie was, he was fairly certain she didn't leave large, pointy weapons on the dining table, the first table visible. He also doubted she usually left her underthings on the floor in front of her kitchen.
Smoke bombs and flashbangs in vases, not even arranged like flowers... Kunai embedded in a foam chair.
The place was a madhouse. But, as such, it wasn't filthy. Just crazy and disorganized.
She had a magnet on her refrigerator saying, "No to cookies, yes to the beating hearts of your enemies". Another, with a picture of a koi opening its mouth, read, "I'm the mouthy one here!"
Ah, Yuffie's sense of humour.
She headed toward the living room. Brand new bay windows looked out at Edge, and he wondered what she'd done for the landlord to be allowed to install them. He was betting on "half her paycheque, her firstborn child, a lapdance, and a blowjob", either simultaneously or immediately consecutive.
"...stunning view," he said. It was as much an indication that he had entered the living room as a sentiment worth voicing.
She startled, then turned her head to stare at him.
He blinked, then realized that he was standing nearly directly behind her.
That may have been strategically inadviseable, he found himself thinking.
"I meant the windows," he added, seeing the incredulity on her face.
She blinked. "At night, it is. The file's in the kitchen, if you want to grab it."
He paused, eying her. "Are you certain you do not want to do this alone?"
Or at least somewhere else, he wanted to add, noting that she hadn't yet moved to turn on the air conditioner, and concluding that it was broken. Yuffie was not one to endure physical discomfort unless she had to.
However, stating that he found fault with her home would be an extremly quick way to Yuffie wanting to pummel him, if she didn't already.
"Is there a reason you haven't turned your air conditioner on?"
She shrugged. "Shit's broke."
He whistled. "All that remodeling, and the air conditioner is broken?"
The phone rang. It was from Tifa's line, he noted. He picked up the receiver. "Reeve here."
After a moment, he heard two people-- urgh. What the hell?
And then the connection cut out.
Oh no. Ohhhhh no. Not. Happening. Not in a million years.
He immediately called Tifa's house back. "....Did you just call here?"
He heard a young male stuttering. Denzel, by the sound of it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "Denzel, might I remind you that in three years, you're going to work for me?"
He heard something that sounded like a smothered "Oh shit", and then Denzel said, "....What are you gonna do to me?"
"Cait's weather prediction systems just told me he saw WRO bathrooms, barracks, and a toothbrush in your area's five-day forecast."
"Yeah. If you're going to prank call, don't do it to your future boss. And NEVER with porn. Which I will tell Tifa about if you don't come up with a suitable bribe."
He wouldn't, really. Well, he might. But not until Denzel pissed him off truly horribly.
"Bit of advice? Whatever you do, don't prank Yuffie or Vincent right now."
He'd spent so much time getting them together for this... If Denzel ruined it, he'd have to kill him. Or something.
"Are you really going to tell Tifa?"
"Do you believe Cait?"
"Do it again and I'll let Yuffie make you lick her boots or whatever."
"Dude, Yuffie'd make me--"
"Cait says it is a DEFINITE possibility if you prank call her. Actually," and here he snickered, "When she's done with you, you'll LOOOOVE licking her boots!"
He could hear Denzel swallowing on the other line.
The line clicked closed.
- - -
Yuffie's apartment was completely dark. She'd closed the blinds, opened every window, turned on every fan. No matter she did, Edge's heat remained oppressive.
Ice cubes sat melting on her knees. One had lodged itself between two of her toes. Another, in her belly button.
He had thrown the cloak across the room. Thanks to the heat-- and other reasons, but those had arisen because of the heat-- he had stripped off his shirt.
Only some thin white strips of cloth kept Yuffie decent. The part of him that would always belong to Galian insisted that the cloth was hiding her from him, and needed to be removed.
He bit back a groan. She would kill him for this, he really shouldn't, but he slid a thumb along her stomach. She gasped, making the urge to tackle her even more difficult to ignore.
Her pleased mumbles and shivers didn't make it any easier.
She squirmed and wriggled and rocked until her body had pressed up against him.
"Weren't we here to work on--"
"--too hot to work. Let's play instead."
He would have argued, but her tongue slid out to lap at his throat. He groaned, flushing at the strength of his reaction.
With the claw, he cut away her wrappings. His gaze roved over every inch of the the newly exposed flesh.
The feel of her skin in his hands had him groanning. Her lips met his, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Just as he pressed his tongue into her mouth, her phone rang.
She mewled and broke the kiss. Rather than answer it, she pressed her lips against his chest.
He stopped groping skin and started groping for the phone.
His voice, when he managed to answer it, came out ragged. Dry. Just a bit deeper than usual. "Hello?"
Tifa's other orphan's-- Denzel's-- voice came through. "Uh, do I have the wrong number?"
"Are you looking for Yuffie?"
"Yeah. Who is this?"
"Vincent. Yuffie is-- ah!" He gapsed as her tongue slid to his sternum, then along his nipple. With that gasping, he flipped the phone shut and tossed it across the room.
He tackled her to the floor, growling. Just as he managed to shrug out of his pants and briefs, her cell rang again. It began to vibrate, bouncing along the hardwood floor until it hit a baseboard.
And then it bounced back, toward them. Vincent could only watch the determined little machine wend its way, faintly amused.
"What?" He demanded of Denzel.
Yuffie's hand moved past his hips. The drifting of her fingers wrenched a groan from his throat. He growled, somewhere between angry and pleased.
When her nails scraped his skin, he groaned more. Louder.
He shook his head and handed her the phone. She pouted. "What?"
Her expression darkened. The look on her face as she ripped out the phone's battery frightened him.
She shifted her position, and he forgot all about the cell phone.
(Delicious), said Galian, and Vincent, for once, agreed.
- - -
"You do speed nine," Denzel said.
He hid his evil grin behind his hand, biting his lip. This was going to be his revenge.
Zid glared at him, figured he'd chickened out on eight, and pressed "speed" and "9".
Denzel watched as Zid's face went pale.