A/N: Just a little random story about Cloud and Tifa. It's not really got any head or tail to it, I just kind of wrote it out of the blue. Enjoy...
The sky is black, darkened with yellow starlight blinking for an eternity across the wide sky. Brown eyes stared up at the sky with a hint of wonder and amazement spilling over her expressionless face. She gave a sigh as the stars began to fade and the clouds grow into view. She takes the cup between her hands and she sips the warm milk down her throat. It warms her up only for a few minutes, but still it's comforting.
She shivers as the cold winter night's air blows through the window. It's like ice as it touches her skin. She blinks her eyes several times to shake away the cold feeling in her eyes. She takes another sip of her milk and sighs again. It's getting colder as she sips it, and she can't help but shake the feeling of nausea interrupting her silent thoughts. She rests her hand on her swollen stomach, and she leans back as if thankful for the backrest.
Her stomach looks bludging as she stares down at it; the cup on her stomach, and her hand lazily draped over. She smiles a little as she feels the little one turning in her stomach. She knows it's sleeping, because it seems to be fairly mild. Usually in the day when everyone is awake, it would be kicking her organs like it were fighting. She smiled a little as she realized that it would probably grow up to be quite the fighter.
She could just imagine it now, tuffs of blonde hair, and that of brown fighting in the midst of an alleyway. The man with blonde hair and penetrating blue eyes trying to teach his son or daughter how to fight with his overlarge sword.
She looks to the sky and she makes a wish. It's a simple sort of wish that barely escapes her lips in a near whisper. She begins to stand at the booth she sat in, and just as she does, she hears the door open only barely. It twinkles like a little bell, and she sighs one more time before she goes to the kitchen. She places her cup in the sink, and doesn't turn when she hears him shuffling into the kitchen. He's a silent sort of man with silent words and silent expressions.
But she knows what he's thinking; what he's wondering, what he's wishing. She knows, she always has even if she weren't looking at him.
As she turns to look at him, she smiles a little, happy that he kept his promise and came home. His gaze is expressionless as he leans his sword against the table. It's rather large, and almost touches the roof. She flicks her hair a little as it began to irritate her eyes. She wipes the sleep away from her eyes and leans back against the counter. Her eyes still studying him.
He gives her a disagreeing look, and she feels his gaze being rather discomforting. She turns her face away and begins to wash the cup that she placed in the sink. The cup is suddenly interesting as she grabs it in her hand and runs the cold water through its hollowness. It spills out like a waterfall and she lifts it to put it on the drying rack. She looks at the big smiley face plastered on the side of it, and she smiles when she remembers it was Denzel and Marlene who gave it to her.
She thinks that her silence is probably eating him up, so she begins to turn.
But just before she turns, his hand comes to her side, touching her elbow as if asking her a question without words. She turns to him , her eyes dipped and her hand moving away from his touch. He holds on to her a little tighter, but gentler and mumbles something barely audible. She looks to his hand against her elbow, and she looks to him as if asking. His hand moves to her stomach, and he holds it so gently that she could barely feel it.
He slid his hand up over her stomach till he reached her other hand. He held it gently in his grasp, lacing their fingers even though his were covered by his gloves. He made a mumbling sound and removed his gloves quickly before he grasped her hands again.
He looks to her, studying her expression as he laces their fingers again.
"I came home," he says, hoping it would lighten the mood.
It's simple enough for her; easy enough to understand at any rate. But it still isn't enough. It isn't enough to help her forget the past. It isn't easy when she wakes up in the middle of the night and finds the bed empty. She doesn't like it when he's away from home; when he's delivering packages late into the night.
It makes her worry; makes her think she's back in the past again. He doesn't really deserve to be out there at the insane hours of the morning. He deserves to be with his family, with his children, and her. He deserves to enjoy a life he never had. And she has to admit, in their silent connecting gaze that she can't forget the past, even if he doesn't run away anymore. She can't forget the pain she went through; the worrying, the thinking.
She looks to his eyes again, and leans up to touch his face gently. He smiles a little much to her surprise as she smiled in return. It seems to make her feel better to see him smiling. His face seems to register an understanding gaze as if he were listening to her thoughts. In that instant, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close, tightening the hug as if he hadn't seen her for over a week when he had only seen her a couple of hours ago.
She leaned into the hug, pressing her nose into the side of his neck as she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. She smiles a little now, as she held onto him tighter.
"I-" she begins in a whisper. "I can't forget the past."
"I'll come home to you everyday," he says. "I promise."
"But-"
"Come," he says simply and untangles their arms as he takes her hand and leads her upstairs.
She follows obediently as he guides them up the stairs and to their room. His sword sits against the table, and he slides it quietly into one of the booths before he takes her hand again and leads them to the steps. The steps creak as they walk upstairs, she winces slightly as if not wanting to wake Denzel and Marlene, but he places his hand at her lower back and reassures her that they'll be fine.
She gives him an appreciating nod and leans into his warm hold. He holds her tighter and guides her to the last door at the hallway. When he enters the room he switched the lights on, and settled the door to an open. The blankets on the table are tossed aside, and the side light is still on. She sighs a little when he sits her down on the bed. He's got his arms on either side of her legs and he's looking up to her with a worried sort of gaze.
"I'm sorry," she begins in a soft whisper.
He shakes his head and stretches a hand out to tuck away a strand of hair behind her ears. He gives her a small smile as he turns to lay his gloves on his side table. He settles his hands on either side of her legs again and looks up to her. He's kneeling at her legs, staring up at her. He leans up a little and presses a kiss at her awaiting lips.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says to her.
"I know," she says finally. "It's hard, when I wake up and you're not here."
"I know," he says and nods. "But I'll be here in the morning."
"It's a little silly of me, I suppose," she admits.
He shakes his head and smiles to her. "Not silly."
He leans her back against the bed, and covers her with the blankets. He tucks her in and steps back a little to take his shirt off. He slips into his pyjamas and lies on the empty spot beside her. As she snuggles into his chest he kisses her forehead.
She looks to him seriously this time as she says, "I just don't want to lose you."
"You won't," he says simply.
She nods and gives him a kiss at the side of his lips. "I know, I'm just glad you're home."
He chuckles and begins to close his eyes. "Me too, Tifa, me too."
"I love you, Cloud."
"I love you too, Tifa."