Authors Note: So, in keeping with my love of CloudxReno fanfictions, I decided to write a little one shot. I know I should be updating Dark Blue Eyes but, whatever haha. This was too good to pass up. This is also something new for me- the first time I am writing in Reno's POV; so excuse any kind of OOC when it comes to this lol. I tried to stay in character as best I could. ENJOY!

It's Just Hair

Long, red hair cascaded to the floor, like abandoned raindrops during a storm. I slowly touched the back of my hair, expecting to feel my ponytail; instead only feeling short strands that had not been sacrificed. My green eyes locked on to my image in the gold rimmed mirror. I didn't look the same without my mess of red hair. Don't get me wrong, though, it was still a mess; falling to right before my eyes, almost covering those intolerable crescent moon scars that adorned my face. But it lacked the length I had grown quite fond of. Now it was short, thick, and wispy. I always felt my hair gave me some kind of originality- I stood out from the crowd with my long pony tail swaying behind me. Now…well now I looked like any other schmoo out there.

A loud chuckle caught my attention and I danced my forest green eyes to the form of one very amused blonde boy leaning against the threshold. He only seemed to smile when it was at my expense and today he was sporting a goofy grin that stretched ear to ear. I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy his rare smiles; however I would also be lying if I said I enjoyed being his run on joke. His blue eyes stared at me, amused at my current predicament.

"It's just hair," he laughed, "it'd grow back if you want it back so badly."

"Whatever, Strife," I rolled my eyes back to the mirror. I picked apart my appearance with certain malice; I looked like a pretty boy instead of the rugged Turk I spent so long trying to be. Hell, in the right light, with the right eye and hair color, I could look like Strife. That's the last person I wanted to look like- not that he wasn't handsome…just didn't want look like some god damn model. I was a fighter.

"You're just pissed I won the bet," he walked behind me; I growled inwardly at the fact he was two inches taller than me.

"I didn't know a lightweight like you had such a resistance to alcohol," I spat, crossing my arms over my chest- trying to act aggressive even though I didn't feel aggressive.

"Oh I get it," he laughed again, running his elegant fingers through my short hair, "you're mad that I beat you at your own game."

I scoffed- he was getting on my nerves- and pushed him away from me. With another huff, I exited the bathroom, flopping on the bed like a child. Yes, I'll admit I was acting immature- but it's his own fault for attacking my ego…it's the only fucking thing I have left now that my hair was gone. I heard the cracks in the old wood follow me to be bed; the blonde sat on the edge, a long, audible, sigh escaping his lips. I flipped on to my back, my eyes choosing to only focus on his slouched form. For the first time since I met the boy, he was dressed casually; wearing nothing more but black pants and a plain white shirt. I think he was slowly allowing himself to let go of the past, by finally releasing himself from the heavy garments he would wear religiously. I swear those were a bitch to get off with all the fucking zippers and belts- I always complained that he should just free himself from the chains of his clothing; his metaphorical prison. I guess he was finally taking my advice.

However his deep blue eyes still possessed the same lost stare. Looking at him, sitting on the bed with a distant gaze, reminded me of the first thing he said to me after his battle with Sephiroth: "I'm ready."

I thought he wasn't talking to me- well no…I figured he wasn't. I wasn't exactly his best friend, or friend for that matter, so it was doubtful he would say more than two words in my general direction (and those two words were usually a nice "fuck off.). But if he wasn't talking to me, he was talking to air, because I was the only one with the balls to join him in the darkest corner of Tifa's run down bar. Everyone was so determined to leave him alone- saying he had to heal after his battle. But he, from the way his eyes glistened against the darkness, wanted to be anything but alone.

"Are you mad?" The abandonment in his normally calm voice broke me from my thoughts. I realized at that point I had stopped looking at him, and instead focused on the picture sitting so perfectly on the night table- the picture of us that night, drunk out of our minds, smiling look two complete assholes. I still find it hard to believe that was a year ago.

"Now why the fuck would I be mad at you?" I countered with a sigh, "I could never be mad at you."

He moved his body to lay next to mine- as close as he could. He draped on of his muscular arms around my thin waist; and I cursed the gods for making me so frail and thin like a fucking girl. I leaned my forehead against his, looking deeply in his still contorted orbs- wondering why was plaguing him now. I would have asked him, like I asked him a thousand times before, but I already new the answer: "nothing." It was always nothing. But it was always something, so I always worried…

And Reno Sinclair hates to worry.

So I decided a different approach- I finally wanted to shed his armor and show me every little thing that was hurting it and allow me to make his pain my own. I wanted to carry the bulk for once; I wanted to be his hero for once. I tried to figure out why I wanted these things; these once stupid ideas. It was probably love, but as if I was going to admit that.

"Let's play a game," I whispered against his chapped lips.

"The last time you said that, you had to cut your hair," he laughed, once again at my expense.

"Oh well, I still have to get you back for that one." I pressed my lips against his- knowing full well that just that simple action would break his tough guy streak. I know, my lips are fucking powerful, I don't know what's up with that. One time I wanted a week off from work- all I had to do was make out with Rufus for five minutes and I got the whole month off. Though I really deserved it after that; garlic breath and lack of experience…that's all I'll say.

A sigh escaped Cloud's lips, "Fine babe, what's today's game?"

I could hardly contain the smile that threatened to spread across my face, "Staring contest"
He didn't seem phased by my strange request. He just shrugged one shoulder and continued in a cold voice, "What's the terms."

"Well if I win, you have to cut your hair," the sinister smile grew as I watched his eyes widen, "and if I loose, god forbid-"

"You have to tell me if you love me or not."

I winkled at my nose at his request- I didn't see why he needed to hear me said it. I didn't even know if I felt it- and I wasn't going to like to him. I knew if I had said I didn't love him, he would leave me without a second thought; he had a million other guys would trip over themselves to tell him those three little words. I couldn't, not in the whole year we were "dating." Or "fucking." Whatever people call it these days. Plus, I always had this gut feeling he was still in love with the little flower girl that haunted his thoughts; that's what kept me at bay. I was not getting into a competition with a fucking dead chick.

"Deal," I said, feeling a slight ping of emptiness in my stomach- though that could have been from hunger…I don't know.

We sat on the bed, facing each other, out hands fiddling with the fabric of one another's pants- nervous tick he and I shared. We closed our eyes to give them a rest before starting…

"Three…two…" and for some reason I kept trying to remember what the first thing I said to him that night was… "one!"

Our eyes shot open…and remained still. Both skilled fighters, both knowing the importance of always keeping our eyes open for attack, both with trained eyes for this kind of game. However, while he was clearly focusing on keeping his eyes opened, I was focused on his opened eyes. I examined every bit of his blue orbs from the color to the little red veins, trying to find the passage way into his soul. Though a whole fifteen minutes into the journey I had only found how beautiful his eyes were. The blue was so rich and inviting, even with the glowing mako that swarmed throughout the eye like a light show for me.

My focus was suddenly dragged to the dark part of the iris. And there I discovered how I wrong I had been about him, my Cloud Strife. All this time I thought he was still head over heals in love with that Aeris; keeping himself purposely locked up to savor the last bit of her. Yes all this time I had been foolish. Too dumb to see past his depression and his own cursed past. Too stubborn to look past mine.

She wasn't anywhere in his eyes. She wasn't swarming in his thoughts. She wasn't even in his memory save for how she saved the world. All I could see…

All I could remember was the conversation that night; what I had said…

'You're ready? For what? To get shit face dunk, cause I'm way ahead of you buddy.'

I was expecting those two words again: a nice "fuck off." But no, not that; he was in the business of surprising me that night. His lips curled into a shy smile which looked so alien on his normally cold face.

'No,' he said, 'I'm ready to let go. To move on. To do something I never thought I could.'

'Oh yeah? What's that?'

'Tell someone how I feel,' he had sighed, 'You know, something stupid like that.'

'That's not stupid. That's a pretty good idea'- I was convinced it was Tifa…or Vincent…but considering Vincent and Cid had mysteriously disappeared, I was going to go with Tifa. 'So tell them right now…'

And what did he say that completely changed the way I saw him. No…it didn't change anything, it just woke up something that was laying hidden in my heart because of stupid rules and stupid jobs and the stupid way we had met.

What did he say…

Suddenly his eyes snapped shut, in turn, taking me out of his world. He looked down, defeated, slowly opening his dry eyes to stare mournfully at the bed. He had lost the bet; he was not only going to loose his hair, but he had already made up his mind concerning me. And I just couldn't have that. I couldn't let him go.

My lips twitched with the need, my heart begged me to do it- to say it. The only thing holding me back was the possibility that I couldn't be who he wanted me to be. Ha, but that was stupid to think about- because I could…all he was asking was for three simple words to come out of words, and for me to mean them.

"I love you," I said suddenly, not even realizing they had left my mouth until I saw his head snap up.

"Do you mean that?" he asked; his eyes trembling with a mix of all different emotions.

I decided that words were useless at this point. I think he saw it in my eyes; he knew I meant it, there was no reason this time for me to say it. Instead our lips crashed together, filled with passion and desire. He pushed me back on the bed, roughly, pinning my body down with his. Our hands ripping and tearing at the annoying clothes that hid our wanting bodies as our tongues attacked each other relentlessly…

It was powerful, it was beautiful, and at some points it was confusing. It was love in it's physical form.

-

Blonde, wispy, locks cascading to the floor, and I laughed gently at the falling strands of my boyfriend's spiky hair. He growled at my amusement, gripping my pants frustrated.

"Oh calm down," I said, "I'm almost done."

"It better not be to short," he argued.

"No, Cloud, you are fucking bald. Just shut up and let me finish."

He groaned again, and I couldn't help but smile at his expense. I finished the final two snips and admired my handy work. His hair was not as short as he expected; he was still a head full of hair, thick, and shiny. However it was shorter, falling when wet to about my length. I grabbed a bottle the bottle of gel, squirting a bit into my hand and running it through his blonde locks. His hair stood up, not like spikes as before, but as a million little flips and flaps and kind of represented his personality.

"Done!" I hopped off the sink so he could look at his knew hair style in the mirror.

"Ugh, it's so short," he mumbled.

"Oh, it's just fucking hair, it will grow back!"

He shot me a death glare that was less menacing with the pleasant little smile that danced along his face. He was smiling, not at my expensed…not at even at his…but because he was free.

What did he say to me that night…

'You, Reno, you make me happy.'

And that makes me happy…as sappy as that sounds.