Disclaimer:I do not own Final Fantasy VII, or its franchise, in any way possible. All characters and mentioned names belong to Square Enix.
Ch. 01: Problem
Well… Tifa was pissed.
She stood there on the wet floor, staring at the contraption that possibly just ate all her clothes. She wasn't the mechanic-type; she needed Cloud for this. But Cloud being Cloud was away, doing deliveries, and even if she did call him up and told him about it he wouldn't answer the phone. He hadn't changed, ever since that night she scolded him with that ever-famous line even the kids memorized: "You don't answer your phone, but I don't see you throwing it away either."
Doe eyes fixated on the machine and hands on her hips, she tilted her head with a scowl and pondered. If she kicked it, would it work up again? But then again a normal kick from her seemed like a firework explosion. And she couldn't bother to buy a new machine. She sighed deeply and shook her head.
"Fine. Eat up our clothes." Tifa growled quietly. She pointed at it like it was animate. "I won't be blamed for torn-up clothes anyway! I won't be the one buying new clothes."
… And then she remembered her favorite pair of jeans was in there. In horror, she clutched at her hair in clumps and squealed in annoyance to herself.
"…What are you doing?"
"AH!" Tifa turned, completely flustered. "…Uhh… um…"
Cloud stepped into the room, and looked at the washing machine. He glanced at Tifa once and then back at the droning, white contraption. "…I thought you were talking to someone in here," he said.
"Well?…" Tifa frowned, but then folded her arms and snorted. "Pfft, yes, I was talking to this." She sighed. "Okay, fine, it broke. It jammed, and soap's been getting out." The fighter picked the mop from the corner – which she had kept near her for the past hour – and started mopping the wetness that pooled on the floor from the machine. "I don't know what happened. It just started eating up clothes!"
Cloud, knowing what Tifa was like when something was broken, bothered to ask, "Did you kick it?"
"No," Tifa said, "… but I wanted to."
Cloud sighed. "You want to kick everything that doesn't work right… but thanks for not kicking this one, we wouldn't be able to afford to buy a new one if you did." He shook his head. "Could you hand me the toolbox?"
"Where is it?"
"Downstairs, in the cabinet right behind the bar. Lowest shelf."
"Right." Tifa stopped mopping up for a moment and exited the room. Another dismayed sigh escaped her as she shuffled to get it, opening cabinet doors here and there. When she came back up she found Cloud squatting by the side of the washing machine. He had just unplugged it. "…Oh. Man, I forgot, I'm so sorry," Tifa noted.
"It's alright," Cloud said as he peered behind his shoulder. Tifa walked over to him and handed the toolbox. "… You should get the vacuum downstairs."
"… What for?"
"Have to drain the water," Cloud said, shrugging. "Let's just give it a shot."
"But wouldn't the water jam the vacuum too?"
"We don't have a pump, or a hose to get the water out, so…" Cloud nodded. "Next best thing. Unless you prefer a cup and basin, then that's fine with me."
"Okay then, whatever you say, Mr. Muscle." Tifa scuffled downstairs again and dragged the vacuum out of its usual hiding place - right behind the stairs - and carried it up. She had to tap the door open with her foot so she could get in, and when she set it down, she and Cloud got to work.
When the water was drained, Cloud opened up the washing machine. Tifa wanted to get a rag for him but apparently, the sellsword opted to plug in the vacuum cleaner, and let it suck out all the water from inside. Luckily, it didn't jam. Then he turned it off, removed his upper garments and just used it to wipe the inside off of the remaining soapy water. And Tifa couldn't help but look, watch his fair-skinned, taut muscles contract and relax as he started to clean and try to fix the machine.
"U-Um…"
Cloud didn't seem to care. Just proceeded to work as he sighed.
"I'm really glad you didn't kick this thing."
"Yeah, well… I wonder if you'd get mad at me if I did."
Cloud shrugged. "I could never get mad at you."
Tifa blinked. Did he really say that?
"… Really?"
"Mmhm." Cloud smiled slightly, dismantling the washing machine. "… Could never."
Tifa folded her arms. "… Yeah? Why not?"
"Well, for one…" Cloud grunted as he tried to get into those hard-to-reach places and wipe it clean, "The kids would kill me if I got mad at you. You know how they don't like it when we're fighting."
"Excuse me - arguing." Tifa grinned. "If you fought with me it'd involve fists or weapons." She laughed a bit, and pondered. "…I could never get mad at you either."
"Yeah?"
"Chyeah!" Tifa smirked. She leaned back against the nearby table where heaps of laundry were found. "Could never."
"Why not?" Cloud asked, focusing on the washing machine. He started piecing it back together again, and he plugged it in again and turned it on. It was working fine.
… And possibly for the first time in her life, she became quiet.
Why did Tifa like Cloud?…
She really liked Cloud, admired his tenacity and integrity, but oftentimes wondered if being quiet almost half the time helped him hone his social skills with others. Cloud, being Cloud, was naturally a man of few words, and if anyhing, even Tifa couldn't get the truth out from him unless he felt like saying so. But she liked it when he softened around the kids, when he gave them smiles and encouraged them in the silence of an afternoon spent in Edge that they should do their homeworks well or make sure no one bullied them in school. Tifa wondered when he would ever soften like that around her, and clearly she reveled in it just for a moment's passing, but truthful to herself and in her full honesty she never really came to terms with why she really admired the guy. Neither did she ever bother to ask herself why she liked a bright blonde-haired ex-SOLDIER turned delivery boy, or why she was drawn to him. It was clearly beyond the fact that they were childhood friends, that they knew each other for years on end, and while Cloud was crouched there, starting to sweat, and working on the washing machine, she realized she was rather getting… warm, in certain places.
… Ah, the bliss one can find with just the mere sight of inches of skin…
She didn't realize that the warmth grew slicker, and that she stared dead-on, until Cloud stood and handed her the wrench and screwdriver. "Tifa?"
Tifa looked up with a snap, meeting his stark blue eyes. "Hunh?"
Cloud blinked. "… You okay?"
"Uh… yeah!" The fighter took the tools from him quickly. "Yeah, I'm alright." Without hesitation she went over to the toolbox, and slipped the tools in. "Just uh… thinking about some things." With her back turned to Cloud, she shut her eyes tight, hoping he'd never read what she was really thinking. "… I'm taking the kids out for a walk today," she noted.
"Oh…" Cloud frowned, unbeknownst to her. "…Both?"
"Yeah," Tifa said. "I haven't really had the time to spend with them recently, so…"
"Mm." Cloud only nodded. He had been keeping some words he wanted to say to her, though, and had been trying to hold it in for days. How was he going to tell her?
He stepped up to her back facing him, so close to her shoulders. "… I never really got my answer."
"To what?"
"Why can't you stay mad at me?"
Tifa cleared her throat. "A number of reasons."
"Like?"
"…Well…" Tifa looked up at the ceiling as she pondered, "The kids would get angry." She laughed just a bit. "And it's difficult if we did. We're under the same roof and we're angry at each other?…" Tifa shook her head and sighed. "And you and I have been friends for a really long time, and through good and bad we've been there for each other. So…"
"Through good and bad…" Cloud slightly nodded. He wanted to say so much to her that he never really took the time to say before; deep in Tifa's heart, she felt the same too.