Disclaimer: Winningly not mine.
A/N: Written as part of the Final Fantasy Kissing Battle on Dreamwidth, which can be found at ff (dash) exchange (dot) dreamwidth (dot) org (slash) 17789 (dot) html. Serpentine asked for Tifa/Aerith and the prompt 'mutual interests'.
Baking
© Scribbler, February 2012.
"Here, let me…" The sentence trailed off as Aerith took the mixing bowl and spoon from Tifa's limp hands. "Like this," she said, half-apologetic, as if she expected to be chastised for offering help.
Tifa watched with interest. "I was worried about breaking the thing," she admitted. One ounce too much pressure and the ceramic bowl would have cracked. Sometimes it was difficult for her to judge her strength in actions she hadn't performed before. Give her a sparring match and she knew exactly how far to push and how far to pull back to keep from killing an opponent. Give her a cake recipe and ... well, she looked like an inept idiot.
"Oh." Aerith said nothing for a long moment. "You could, um … fetch me the whisk? This spoon isn't … quite right."
"You don't need to walk on eggshells, y'know." Regardless, Tifa fetched the damn whisk. Aerith accepted it without comment and set about making light froth from what Tifa had thought was sweet-smelling concrete.
"Why did you want to bake?" Aerith asked after one of their typical long, awkward silences. It didn't used to be like that. At first, they had gotten on fine. It was only after Cloud filtered through their thoughts like rainwater soaking through gravel that the awkwardness sprang up.
Tifa felt colour rising into her cheeks. "It's stupid."
"Tell me anyway."
"I used to bake a lot. With my mom. When I was a little kid." Tifa blew out a reckless sigh. "Things have been so crazy lately, I guess I just … I wanted to bring back some simpler times. Or something. I don't know. Maybe I just really wanted some cake."
Aerith said nothing, but pensiveness filled the air until Tifa felt like she was breathing it in chunks. "My mom and I bake all the time," Aerith admitted eventually. "It's fun."
"Yeah." Tifa watched her unfolding hands on the countertop: sinew, knuckle, fingertips. Tools for breaking things these days. No wonder she couldn't bake a stinking cupcake without help. Bitterness fizzed inside her like overripe fruit in the bright light of Aerith's competence.
"Here." Aerith plunked the bowl down in front of her. "I'll fetch you the paper cases."
"Can't you do it?"
She just looked at Tifa. "Why would I do that? They're yours."
"Because you're better at it than I am."
"No I'm not. I'm just more used to it. Here, I'll show you –"
"I don't need a demonstration," Tifa snapped, instantly regretting it. "Sorry, I didn't mean … look, I'm just a little on edge, okay? We all are. This was a stupid idea." Impulsively, she made to scrape the mix into the trash.
"Don't!" Aerith grabbed it off her. "Never throw something away just because it's difficult."
"Is that a life lesson?"
"If you like."
The bitterness swelled. Tifa turned away, thoughts she couldn't deal with right now suffusing her mind. "I need to go."
"Tifa?"
"What?" She turned in time to realise her distraction had allowed Aerith to get way too close. The kiss was more a light brush than an actual lip-lock. Probably a good thing: as on edge as she was, she might have broken Aerith in two.
"Never throw something away just because it's difficult," Aerith said again. "People too." She hurried away without glancing back over her shoulder.
Tifa was left touching her own lips, the bitterness inside fizzing and popping like dying embers until only a faint glow remained.
Fin.
.