Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters.
Warnings: Implied masturbation
Author's Note: Just a short little piece I wrote. As for Denzel's age, he's somewhere between thirteen and sixteen. Not that it matters, so if you want to imagine him as forty and living with Tifa... Don't even go there.
Noises
While the garage door shut behind him, creaking all the while, he turned off his precious motorcycle, Fenrir. He removed his goggles (in their prime, they deflected bullets from a gun!) and put them in his pocket, along with his black leather gloves. His face was covered in dirt; the brown substance had even managed to reach his hands. Frowning, he rubbed them off on his dirty pants and walked to the door, pausing before he entered his home to remove his heavy, muddy boots.
Putting them neatly beside his sneakers (which, interestingly enough, he never wore), he climbed the three concrete stairs and found himself inside the living room. His muscles were tense, ready to be attacked by two children by the names of Marlene and Denzel, but the ambush never came. After standing silently for a few minutes, awaiting his fate, he decided that enough was enough and went to the kitchen.
Yet another surprise came his way. For one thing, Tifa was actually in the kitchen, managing to not cut any of her fingers. Even he had to admit, she was quite clumsy when it came to using almost any knife (the exception: a butter knife). She'd finish the meal, adding a sprinkle of muttered curses as she went. Cloud found it quite comical, to be honest. Although, he did his best to make sure Tifa wouldn't find out about that!
"Welcome home." She was cutting the red bell pepper into little chunks; the knife made a thud against the cutting board with each slice. "It's fajita-slash-enchilada night," she explained.
"Want me to do the onion?" Cloud offered. Mentally, he grinned at the memory of Tifa crying due to the stench.
"No, no. It's in the fridge. It won't be much longer until dinner's ready, so can you go upstairs and get Denzel? He should be done with his homework by now..."
"Alright," Cloud agreed. He lingered for a minute longer before jogging up the dreaded staircase. Almost immediately, he found himself at the door of Denzel's bedroom. The door was cracked open just a bit, but more than enough for Cloud to catch a glimpse of something unpleasant. Almost as soon as he risked a glance, he turned his head away.
Skin glistening with sweat, light thudding, shirtless, panting.
Cloud swallowed before knocking on the doorframe. He certainly didn't have any desire to see whatever it was Denzel was doing. The answer came back, voice somewhat heavy and tired, "Come on in."
Truth be told, it reminded Cloud of his own voice.
Cloud put on a brave face and tried not to mentally cry and scream as he entered the youth's sanctuary. His gaze wandered and accidentally discovered the shirtless teenager laying on the floor, breathing rapidly. And all the boy could say was, "Hi, Cloud. Sorry it took me a moment to answer, I was doing crunches and didn't think I could finish them if I stopped."
Cloud blinked once. Twice. Then he stared at Denzel, embarrassed.
"What did you think I was doing?"
Cloud turned away and began to walk towards the hallway. "...Time for dinner."
Author's Note: Personally, I thought the ending was a bit abrupt and a bit weak, but I went through about four or five different endings before I just said, "Screw it," and cut them out entirely. Though, if you enjoyed, feel free to leave a review!