A/N:

Hi guys! So I'm going back to my roots a little bit. I know I haven't updated my other story in a LONG time, which means I'm uninspired and blocky and a whole combination of things which boil down to mean I can't write (plus Morgana really started to piss me off in the series....)

So this is something completely different (sort of...). If you don't like Final Fantasy, it's fine, and if you never heard of it...you may enjoy the story as it is. And if you have heard of it, well...yay! I hope you like it :D

Disclaimer: I really wish I owned FF7. But I don't.


It was decided. He looked like an idiot. He only needed a red cape to be mistaken for Cait Sith without a second look. His hand pulled disrespectfully at the bow tie, tossing the foreign article onto the floor without the slightest bit of penance.

He breathed a little easier in front of the mirror now. The suit jacket was still bothering him, but he figured that could be removed easily enough with the proper excuse. The dark circles highlighting the top of his cheekbones were gone, only replaced with the soft shine of light that permeated from is blue eyes.

Shoes were next. No, scratch that. Socks were next. Then shoes. Then his hair, which was entirely hopeless. He picked up the comb Yuffie jokingly got him last year for his birthday. It only flattened the frizz, the main spikes as pointy as ever.

He gave a sideward glance to the mirror and then opened the door, stopping dead as he saw the familiar back. "Tifa?"

The woman didn't turn, all too consumed with muttering something completely inaudible to herself. He didn't have to think twice before tapping her lightly on the shoulder. He'd take any excuse to touch her. "Tifa, is something wrong?"

Tifa turned, a little too swiftly for his sanity. Her short purple towel swirled a little north, but swiftly made its way back down when she stopped to face him. Though the movement did nothing to raise the neckline.

This was out of one his dreams.

Tifa Lockhart was waiting outside of his bedroom, in nothing but a towel. Well, she could have been wearing something under that, but his mind decided not to press the issue.

This wasn't a dream. Clearly. If this were one of his dreams, she'd already be kissing him. The door would already be closed, and he'd really know if there was anything else under that towel.

He mentally slapped himself. Focus, please.

"I think I'm going to be late." She pointed casually to her less than ready attire, "You'll have to leave without me." Her brown eyes looked him up and down, "…Cloud…you look…"

"I know." He turned around and walked back into his bedroom, "But the invitation said black tie, right? So here I am."

Tifa touched his shoulder, causing that particular muscle to tighten. "I was going to say nice." She walked into his room, still in the towel, and bent down near the tossed piece of clothing. "Speaking of black tie…"

It was already around his neck before he could protest. Her adept hands wove the silky fabric around his neck carefully. He watched her silently, knowing that even if he wanted to, there was no possible way he could make any coherent noise with her so close to him. She patted the ends of the bow with her fingertips, smoothing out any wrinkles, and sometimes, much to his dismay, lingering passed the silky material and on to his lapel. "There." Her hands rested easily on his chest, "It's not so bad, is it?"

Cloud still didn't make a sound, worrying it might break the moment. He glanced down to her pale hands softly grazing his chest through his white button down, eyes catching a bit of silver on her right hand. It was a ring, his ring. That sight only made his mind more buzzed. He was stuck. Stuck staring at her hands, stuck speechless, motionless. And frankly, he didn't care.

But she moved on her own. Tifa stepped away from him, her hands retreating back to her sides. "Barret taught me how…if you were curious. He said we'd have to dress up like this one day when they finally thank us for saving the world." She laughed a little to herself, "And I couldn't help but think, the day they'll be thanking AVALANCHE instead of hunting will be a day I'll never see." They were both staring at the mirror now, Cloud shuffling uncomfortably and Tifa cocking her head to the side, "You really do look good, Cloud."

She patted him once again on the shoulder and then retreated from the room, Cloud still inaudible.

--

Fenrir roared to a stop in front of the WRO headquarters. He didn't like the thought of entering without Tifa. It would mean he'd have to handle all the questions, all the greetings, all of the…fans. He didn't care what Tifa said; he rather face Sephiroth for the fourth time than deal with another screaming teenage girl. You'd think it'd die down after awhile.

The people were crowded in the wide circular lobby of the WRO. There were shrouds of girls with signs and t-shirts and even little cameras which made Cloud sigh. It had never been this bad before. A flash of red hair caught his attention through the crowd, roughly miring against the wave of people that, strangely, hadn't noticed the spiked blond hero yet.

"Yo!"

His blue eyes flashed up at the familiar voice, "Reno…what is all of this?" Cloud eyed the crowd warily.

"They're not for you." Reno smirked, "Surprising, isn't it?"

His past experience with fans had to agree with the Turk. "Maybe they finally realized that I'm really not a big deal." Cloud smiled a bit, "But…who are they here…"

The shrill screams of the horde behind him shattered his Mako sensitive ears. Cloud quickly turned to the door to see what the hell could invoke such a noise. Vincent?

Vincent Valentine looked like death. The deep circles under his eyes greatly contrasted with his white skin. His red eyes flashed up at the rush of people facing him, but the dark man barely moved. A whirl of crimson flew in the air and through the door, leaving the mob in its wake.

Wish it was that easy for me.

"Looks like Valentine's getting all the girls now, yo." Reno patted Cloud's back forcefully. "He is the latest hero after all."

It was the reason for this party. Deepground, an organization Cloud had no idea existed, was attempting to take over the world, but Vincent had stopped them. And this is his reward… Cloud inwardly laughed. He wouldn't be surprised if Vincent was back in his coffin by the morning. "I'm gonna go inside. You coming?"

Reno shook his head, "Nah…I'm gonna wait."

The blond didn't think to question it. He moved passed the crowd and towards the doors to the inner hall, where the party was taking place.

"Is that Cloud Strife?"

There were only a few murmurs before more screaming commenced. But Cloud was already through the doors, breathing slightly easier.

For a newly established organization, the WRO really knew how to throw a fancy party. Must be Reeve's experience with Shinra. There was soft music, waitresses with cocktails, fancy tablecloths with centerpieces 5 feet high, and more decorations than he thought the non-profit organization could afford. His blue eyes blinked at the foreign surroundings. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a party that didn't compose of just him and his mother.

"Spiky!" The boisterous voice of Barret Wallace called for his attention. He only smiled, giving Barret one of those men hugs as he came closer. "Where's my girl?"

"Marlene? I thought she was having a sleepover with Denzel at your…"

"No, no! I meant Tifa."

"Oh…she should be here soon. She told me to leave without her."

Barret nodded, knowingly, "Going for the surprise entrance then."

"What?"

"Never mind…you saw that crowd outside for Valentine?"

Cloud smirked, "He certainly seemed to enjoy it."

"Headed straight for the open bar. Don't think he can handle it, poor man." He took a large intake of breath, "Well, guess that's his problem. I'm gonna go hit the bathroom before the food gets here. Have fun mingling, Spiky!"

Cloud waved goodbye and quickly moved to the edge of the room, wallflower instincts taking over. He consciously made his way over to the bar. Vincent and him seemed to be kindred spirits at these times. "You okay?"

The cape man sneered at the comment, "I rather fight Hojo than hear another girl say 'Be My Valentine, Mr. Valentine.'"

Cloud couldn't help but laugh, the statement being all too similar to what he thought earlier, "Hey that's actually kind of clever. Better than 'I'll be your sun if you'll be over me'."

"…Are you joking?" Vincent's red eyes met the younger man's.

"I wish."

Vincent took another sip from his red wine, golden claw making small marks in the dark wood of the bar counter. "I have heard there is a fan club."

The blond probably misheard. He was too busy ordering a beer from an unattractive man who certainly wasn't Tifa. "Huh?"

"Cid told me." Vincent vaguely pointed to the smoking pilot in the corner, "Apparently I have a fan club."

Cloud stared at him blankly, "It could be worse. People could hate you."

"But then they would leave me alone." Vincent sighed at Cloud's sudden interest towards the entrance.

Why isn't she here yet? She usually doesn't take so…

"…I guess."

The door was opening now, but it was only Yuffie, smiling gleefully for some unknown reason. But that was nothing unusual.

"The ninja frightens me sometimes. How can anyone be so consistently manic?"

Cloud nodded, only half hearing. There was another figure coming through the door now. This one taller, with longer hair, longer legs. He took another swig of beer when Tifa Lockhart came into full view. She wore black, of course; she was never really one for bright colors. The solid black dress cinched right under her bust line, black lace composing the bottom skirt. He watched her walk in slowly, eyes glancing around the room until they faced him. His own blue ones glanced downwards, only focusing on her black heels making solid taps across the floor. Her silver teardrop earrings swayed with her lightly curled hair as she approached him. "It's crazy out there."

Vincent took another sip of wine, "They did not leave?"

"I'm afraid not, Vincent. But don't worry. I'm sure they'll all be gone by the end of the night." She gave him a reassuring smile, "You still have the jacket on, Cloud?"

How he imagined her saying that in a more private setting. "…For now."

Tifa's smile heightened, "Of course." She denied the offer for a drink from the bartender and instead gave Cloud a little card. "To a Mr. Cloud Strife and plus 1."

Plus one? He eyed the place card with a little anger. A part of him hated that there could be any assumption that his plus 1 wouldn't be Tifa someday. "Table seven."

"Yeah, meet me there? I want to put my purse down." She held up her black sequined clutch before walking towards the group of round tables.

Cloud let his gaze linger at the retreating girl before speaking, "Your table?"

"Also seven." Vincent left his finished wine glass on the counter. "Though my place card failed to include a plus one."

"Probably a misprint." His blue eyes threatened to burn holes through the tiny card.

Vincent smirked, "Or a hint. I will be in the bathroom."

"Restraining yourself from going out there and firing Cerberus?"

The dark man looked deadpan, "Possibly."


A/N:

I have the next part already finished, and my posting time will depend on my motivation coughreviewscough. Thanks for reading!