A/N: I do not own the characters or content in this fic. Only the story line, in which I am their puppet master.
Pre-pairing Aerith x Tifa, set during FFVII post Midgar.
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Nimble hands pulled her legs to rest over Tifa's crossed ones. The younger woman tugged the clasps and pulled her gauntlets off, setting them down to their side. Aerith observed them closer, seeing blotches of red and purple bleeding from the capillaries into the surrounding flesh of Tifa's knuckles. She has to be in pain herself, she mulled. The fighter shows no inclination to discomfort though, as she discards Aerith's boots and begins to assess the injury to the flower girl's ankle. She always seems impervious to pain, and in the heat of a battle; her chocolate wine coloured eyes shine as if she enjoys it. Tifa Lockhart is a curious beast.
"You must think of me as a real fool," Aerith winced, as Tifa pressed and probed her musculature. "-Ouch!"
The flickering light of the fire did nothing to help determine the extent of the damage Aerith had inflicted by vaulting like a gymnast to parry an attack aimed at her friend's flank. She was successful, however she landed poorly. The embers of their fire cast a warm light over Tifa's delicate facial features, though. Aerith noted her heart shaped face, the arch of her manicured brow and the slightest slant to her eyes sheathed by lustrous dark lashes which bore no mascara. Her elegant tear drop earrings caught the light, sparkling against Tifa's cascade of hair. Tifa yields an earthly beauty about her, but is as modest as they come.
"You're not a fool. You could have just let me take my punishment, though. I clocked him with a fair upper cut." She raised her gaze to meet Aerith's eyes, her smile antagonizing. "For all that I can't see under this lighting, I don't think you have anything more serious than a sprained ankle."
Aerith instinctively grabbed for her staff, eyes searching for cure materia. Tifa threw her hand between her and the green orb.
"Don't waste your energy…you need your rest. Let me bind your foot and that should ease your discomfort."
Aerith exhaled a sigh, pouting. "You're babying me." She appreciated the gesture, but pondered her weaknesses. She would never break free from her damsel image with the way that Tifa and Cloud coddled her like a defenseless child. She had grown up in the slums after all - and had managed to evade the Turks on numerous occasions.
"I am not! I just care about you." Their eyes met briefly, as Tifa unwound a measure of tape. A deft hand pressed into the soul of her foot, Aerith recoiled. "I am so sorry! I didn't hurt you did I?"
"No, no… I am going to sound so silly but I have ticklish feet," she giggled at the confession. The curve of a smile slanted at Tifa's mouth and her cheek bones raised to allow a grin to envelop her face.
"I'm glad. That's not a major pressure point and I was worried you had hurt yourself worse than I thought…" Tifa wound the tape from the ball of the Cetra's foot, pulling the tape taut and binding her ankle. She was firm and assertive. Her handiwork complete, she patted Aerith's calf as if to tell her she was good to lift her legs from Tifa's crossed ones.
Aerith didn't move, though. Engaging in introspection, she folded her arms over her knees and her chin came to rest on them. "You ought to teach me basic principles of physical combat."
The brawler's brow arched, her tone amused. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Self defense obviously, silly. Worried that I might take over your roll?"
"Har har. You're a quick learner but you have a long way to go…" Tifa's hands palmed Aerith's calves, though she retreated slightly as if she felt she was overstepping a boundary.
"Hey you, I didn't tell you to stop!" She wasn't crossing any boundaries as far as Aerith was concerned.
"Nuh uh. You didn't tell me to anything." The smile plastered on Tifa's face was nothing short of cute, Aerith determined.
She enjoyed watching Tifa's shy personality peak out from her shell, and she tried to nurture that whenever she had a chance. But Tifa was right where fighting was being considered; hand to hand combat was her domain. Aerith was confidant that if it weren't for mako enhancements, she would rival SOLDIER.
She was just as agile as Cloud was, she harnessed raw power in her feminine frame. Not just for having a pretty face, Tifa's prowess commanded the respect of their male counterparts whereas Aerith was barely coming into her own as an adept materia user. In other circumstances, Tifa's inner lioness had surfaced to disbar the asinine bickering between Cloud and Barret and left the two men scratching their heads like naughty school boys.
She wasn't jealous of Tifa by any measure, rather in awe of her friend. She supposed she considered herself blessed to have found friendship in her, in spite of their stand-off-ish introduction in the sector six sex dungeon.
Aerith spoke out again as Tifa leaned backward on her palms, "I never try to compete with you, you know that right?"
Tifa's gaze drifted into the fire, Aerith supposed she was brooding over their assumed competition over Cloud.
It wasn't entirely ridiculous, she guessed. But she really wasn't trying to throw herself between the SOLDIER and his childhood friend. Who cares if they had been sweethearts? Aerith respected them both more than to stir the pot.
Besides, something about Cloud bothers her enough to prefer the company of the awkward brawler. He showed glimpses of a tender nature, but his laser like focus on tasks often blighted those moments causing him to appear calculating and cold. And then there's his history which just doesn't quite make sense. Tifa knows it too.
There's also something about Tifa that intrigues her. It's impossible be that shy and be in the business of pseudo bar tending come terrorism. There's more to her than her compassion for her friends, strength and her quirky bashful nature. If she really wanted Cloud, there's no doubt her appearance alone could seduce him and her sweet temperament would keep him if she would just use them. But she doesn't.
In the midst of this haphazard expedition to beat Sephiroth and ShinRa, Aerith can't stop her own wiles from teasing the blonde with a chocobo haircut or the woman next to her; it's like they're cut from the same cloth. Aerith clicked her tongue, pondering how their arguments must pan out or if they sit in awkward silence glaring death at one another when they have a spat.
"I know," quipped said barmaid from her nebulous haze, "Let's see..."
Tifa moved from beneath the Cetra's legs, shuffling to sit next to her.
Again, her wit wouldn't heel and she couldn't help a playful shove against her friend's exposed shoulder. She couldn't trounce her lips from smiling when goose flesh rippled over Tifa's arms.
"You- you're not quite in a state for me to demonstrate in practice how to apply a lot of techniques," Tifa stammered slightly.
The thought of Tifa pressed against her, manipulating her limbs had crossed her mind before, albeit a completely different set of circumstances which had altered how Aerith had viewed Tifa. She also would find her nervous stutter endearing too had her mouth not become uncomfortably dry and a cage of butterflies set free in her chest.
"So... do we need to revisit this another day?" she cocked her head to the side, peering beneath oynx lashes.
"…No. Just work with me," Tifa paused thoughtfully, before continuing, "The goal of learning pressure points is helpful in your case... knowing the best places to impair an opponent rather than flat-out killing them...knowing you probably would rather not do that-"
She twisted in place, running her hand over the skin at the back of her knee, "-for example, knocking someone in the knee joint can cause their legs to crumple, or hitting the wrist at the right angle can force their hand muscles to drop their weapon." Tifa inhaled sharply, pulling Aerith's hand into hers. She traced circles now at the base of Aerith's palm, where her wrist connected her forearm and hand. A rush of excitement emanated from the placement of Tifa's fingers, and trickled down her spine.
Aerith looked Tifa in the eye, feeling herself tense slightly and urged her to go on, "What else?" Part of her wondered where this confidence was coming from. Tifa never initiated physical contact outside of necessity.
Tifa's long fingers encircled her wrist, "If someone grabs your wrist, you can use your other arm to block any attempt to strike you...before chopping your hand into their elbow and lock the joints of their arm. It throws off their balance so you can take them to the ground."
"And what about wrist locks with... submission in mind?" Aerith lingered on Tifa's lips for a second, watching her react at her choice of words.
Her grip tightened around her, claret eyes cast downward looking at their hands, "They allow you a massive amount of leverage against your assailant."
Pulling and rotating Aerith's wrist, she gently rolled it's range of movement against what the ligaments in her arms permit. She felt them tug uncomfortably, muscles grimacing under pressure. She didn't pull away though...perhaps offering herself a little too readily to Tifa even by her own standards.
"By grabbing their wrist and forcing it into an unnatural position, it buys you a moment as they're distracted by the pain. You can either continue exerting pressure in order to damage their limbs as your endgame...or choose to capitalize on following through with another attack." Tifa paused, "I usually like to swing a kick into their jaws while grappling with their wrists. But an elbow to the solar plexus or groin sends a message too." She winked.
Aerith's mouth fell agape, caught slightly off guard. "You're a bad girl."
"Didn't claim I was an angel. No one ever called me one either." She pursed her lips victoriously.
Well, that was pleasantly unexpected yet welcome nonetheless. The jab didn't blow over Aerith's head, both Zack and Cloud's voices echoing in her mind. She grabbed at Tifa's wrist this time, unyielding when she jerked away. "Hello, Tifa Lockhart-" She said, darkly, "I knew you were hiding in there somewhere!" The love child between a cackle and a giggle bellowed from her lungs.
Tifa graced her with another weirdly shy smirk in her direction.
They're were sitting close; she could feel Tifa's warm breath on her face. Aerith still held her wrist in her hand, and she wasn't pulling it away. She can see specks of orange, and brown within her red eyes which flit downward for a second, Aerith can only assume Tifa was glancing at her lips. Everything about the moment felt impassioned.
Tifa broke Aerith's grip on her wrist. She heaved herself upward, reaching for her gauntlets and walked toward their tent. Before disappearing, she cast a glance back at Aerith. "When your foot heals, I'll teach you to grapple."
Hands playing with the choker around her neck, Aerith chuckled impishly; calling to the fighter, "I'll look forward to it!"
She would have sworn that Tifa's face offered a quietly salacious smile before she disappeared into the tent.
Confident Tifa wasn't going to return, Aerith pulled her staff from the pile of camping equipment. She closed her eyes, muttering the incantation for cure. Green tendrils of light wrapped around her ankle and the dull pain within her aching bones vanquished.
Aerith didn't intend on telling Tifa she healed herself. Tifa would no doubt bark annoyance at her if she found Aerith ignored her concern, but the woman probably won't bite. Besides, the shrill of excitement welling in her stomach makes her want another opportunity to feel Tifa against her, to "help her walk". And then there's the prospect of tumbling to the ground with her friend, feigning a grapple technique. She chastised herself for wildly pursuing her thoughts, Down Girl. Down.