If Squall buried his face in her hair, he could pretend. And her lips were never pouty, but they could be. So he'd hold her and ohgodRinoaohdeargodwhy let his heart do the seeing. Push her up against the wall with a violence, because no matter how much he convinced himself, she wasn't Rinoa and it made him angry. But Tifa didn't much mind the bruises on her spine, or his teeth tugging at her lips, because this way they could avoid being sensual. It was almost like dousing themselves in gasoline and being careless with matches, until all they were was deadly inferno and neither of them could stop because there was something so poetic in being on fire.

If she ever called him Cloud, she wondered if he'd follow up with a Rinoa? It certainly wouldn't hurt her feelings.

She would, could, did chase Cloud to the end and back, but all he ever seemed to do was run away from her. Aerith could have him for all she cared (oh the sweet power of sickly lies--or was it the other way around?) and Tifa wasn't one for the game of pretending. Squall wasn't Cloud, but he was someone, someone she could keep up with, someone who wouldn't run from her, someone she could drop the pretense for because, oh, I love Cloud and you loved Rinoa, so let's do each other to make it all better, mmkay?

Sometimes she wondered if it was all enough to drive her to madness, like when she cased Cloud through Wonderland and that cat just grinned at her like they were one and the same and, oh god, this place, their lives, were freakin upside down.

She tastes fresh blood in their mouths, and this time it doesn't gag her.

Squall was merciless with her, and she wondered if he was ever like this with Rinoa. Probably not. Losing her had changed him, bitter lonely angster, just as finding her had, but all Tifa had ever chased were things she couldn't change. Her raven hair fell against his bare shoulders--

"I love you Squall," Rinoa breathed, her eyes meeting his, the color of dripping cocoa, and were glazed over with the magical aftermath of something bigger than the two of them. He simply repeated her name, and let her skin, her tresses, bathe him, rinse away all that she could until there was nothing left of him but them--

and it made him want to slap her. Were Cloud to walk in with Aerith, or were Yuffie to come bursting in the door, they weren't sure what they'd tell them. Sure, it wasn't a fairytale, but sometimes all you could do was something to forget.

Tifa had lost Cloud to Aerith, but she couldn't hate either of them.

Leon had lost Rinoa--a fallen angel with the wings to prove it--to the darkness, and had no one to hate but Squall.

Like most of their best ideas, this one started in a bar. Squall fumbled when he was drunk, fumbled with her clothes, fumbled with her lips, fumbled with who she was. Tifa slurred, until all of her words, all of her sounds, sounded like his name. And neither of them let out a tear this time.

Rinoa used to dance, and Cloud used to dream. Rinoa looked perfect in a white gown, a child-like grin on her face and a teasing glint in her eyes, and Cloud wore his uniform like no other. Rinoa opened him up, and they vowed to find one another always, and when Cloud let her in he dropped all of his walls and they'd make a promise.

She needed him to save her, but he was too far gone for it now.

And he couldn't find her and wondered if she waited amongst a backdrop of sunny wildflowers that he couldn't find either.

Squall buried his face in raven hair (he didn't want to see this anymore, this world full of dead and ruin, full of chasing and searching and losing, where feathers fell from the sky just to torture him) and pretended as Tifa bit back Cloud's name.

0-FIN-0

Written for a friend, who promised to write me Kaiku fluff (an impossibility) if I wrote her a Leon/Tifa one night stand. Naturally, I'm finished first, even though it hurts to move. We went to the beach and I, able to do nothing but sit, simply baked. My sunburn is burnt. This was written while waiting for my phone to charge, listening to The Airborne Toxic Event's Directv concert (they are my addiction and Gasoline is my drug), in a pink pen. Yes, that was pertinent.

I swear, every time I write a new pairing I fall instantly in love with it, no matter how improbable. Yes, there is more mention of FFVIII cannon than FFVII here, but that's simply because I love VIII x100 more. Yes, I know some call this blasphemy. I call it good taste.

Reviews? Anyone? Or have I completely destroyed all of KH cannon, lol?