Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Seven is Square Enix's. (Sad face.)

Timeframe: Most likely after AC. If you can see it some other time though, by all means go for it.
Author natterings: Because I noticed that Tifa has always worn the same earrings. And because I thought that Cloud might be one to get her to change them. (I'm a sap. No defense against it.) Comments and criticisms? Go for it.

Just Right

One day, behind the pretense of a delivery, Cloud left the Seventh Heaven.

When he returned, it was late afternoon of the same day. The sun had sunk behind the lingering dust clouds - a result of the destruction many months ago. It was gradually getting colder, and the muck did nothing to aid the sun in warming up the city of Edge. Cloud dismounted and pushed open the glass door of his home.

The atmosphere of the bar was a welcome respite. It was warm and well-lit. The floors were polished wood. The walls - the ones further in - were adorned with loving pictures. And, of course, Marlene, Denzel and Tifa were all here. He clutched a slim box in a gloved hand.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, bait in his voice. He had moved to the doorframe seperating the two sides of Seventh Heaven.

After nothing, he took slow steps in. "Denzel?" Another step. "Marlene?"

In the corner of his vision, he saw a telltale mess of copper. He pivoted slowly on his heel, in its direction. Behind Tifa's piano.

"Denzel..." Cloud came around the small upright. He had a feeling Marlene was there too. "Got you both," Cloud laughed.

"I told you we shouldn't have hid in the same place!" Denzel whipped his head in Marlene's direction, cute, serious and cross.

She giggled. "It's funner this way."

Cloud stood in front of the two, the faintest smile on his face.

"It's just for Cloud anyway," Marlene barely rebuked, still smiling. She smiled at Cloud. "Cloud needs to have more fun."

Some blonde fell in his vision. "Thanks, Marlene."

"No problem!" she told him honestly, and even Denzel's scowl faded.

"What's that?" the scruffy redhead asked, staring openly at the box in Cloud's hand.

"A present."

"For who?" Marlene and Denzel asked in near unison, Denzel's tone more subdued and tame under Marlene's bubbling curiosity.

He knew they were just kids, but Cloud felt the tiniest bit like an interrogation suspect. "That's secret." Even his smile was secretive.

They both exchanged a look that Cloud missed since he was turning the rectangular object over in his hands. Marlene grinned, her six-year-old face registering an expression akin to mischevious delight. Just because she felt like informing Cloud - "Tifa's getting ready."

"Right," Cloud responded absently.

Marlene directed her smile at Denzel, who squinted back at her. "He's in la la land."

"Cloud doesn't do that," Denzel responded in a harsh whisper, defending his hero.

Marlene just smiled.

"Oh-- hi," Cloud's soft greeting perked the ears of the two children.

"Hello," Tifa responded, her voice distinct. Denzel had always thought it sounded like a bird song would, were the bird flying over the vast, yawning earth. Something about this made him like her more.

"Are Denzel and Marlene ready?" she asked, peeking around the piano. How she knew they were there was a testament to all her time spent with them.

Cloud just watched her, his eyes fixed on the space between her shoulder blades.

"Yup! Denzel wouldn't put on his tie though."

"It wasn't a tie, it was just paper you cut to make it look like a tie."

"Still."

Tifa screwed her mouth up so her lips pursed, and the light lipgloss she had on accented this. She was holding back a laugh. Cloud didn't even realize he noticed.

"Are you ready?" She had turned back to him, her right arm swinging and hitting her thigh.

His lips parted... "Wait."

Her head tilted to the right. Her hair, let out of its red tie tonight, found the small wind currents in the room and quivered. "What is it?"

He came up to her and placed the box in her hands. "They were my mother's. I want you to have them."

A sharp intake of breath, then some chewing of her lips. Anyone could tell she wasn't used to wearing lipgloss. "You didn't have to."

His eyes were the purest blue then, all hope and beautiful naïveté. "I know. I wanted to," he told her honestly.

------

One night, as they lay awake in beds side by side, he asked a simple question.

"Where did you get your earrings?"

A brief pause, too brief to detect anything. "My mother." She turned her head slightly on her pillow to look at him. "Why?"

His hands were tucked away behind his pillow. If they weren't, he might have stared at them. His consolation was the ceiling. "You don't change them."