"Your reaction

To my action

Is what I want to see."

Come On Closer, Jem

sk

Reno is sulking.

Brooding. He prefers to call it brooding.

Whatever.

"Absence makes the heart go stronger." He clicks his fingers, stopping his continuous stance of staring out the window. Now he's no longer in turmoil and despair of how he's going to win his True Love's Heart. He looks over the moon, eyes gleaming with this revelation. "Absence makes the heart grow stronger!"

"Yes. What of it?" Now, Rude can see where this is going. And he doesn't particularly mind. But what is Reno going to do in the meantime?

"Wait. Is it absence?" Reno's forehead creases in confusion. "Or absinth?"

"Definitely absence, unless you want to muck another relationship up?" He can't help but raise an eyebrow. Besides, the taste of absinth isn't particularly nice.

"Ah, you're right." Reno grins, practically flouncing on candy. "I shall leave… for an undisclosed amount of time… and within that gap, Tifa Lockheart shall realize that she misses me not because we are good friends and on good terms with each other, but because in fact… I am something more to her…"

Yep.

An annoyance.

"… I am the love of her life!" After a long pause, Reno continues, pleased by his logic. Looks smug too.

"So where are you going?" Elena leans forward, curious about the future of Reno.

"Oh, here and there." Reno dismisses the question with a hand wave. "No doubt you'll hear of my brave endeavours."

"Mm." Elena nods, finishing serving breakfast. "Well, go on then. Eat what I just cooked and then walk out the door."

"What?" Reno's taken aback. For some reason.

"Well, you've just said. You're going. Ergo, not staying here. Since you're missing, we won't know where you'll be. But we know that you're fine. But Tifa won't. She'll worry. And come to us. And worry more. At some point," Elena drinks her coffee, mumbling some unknown words though Rude can hear snatched away, real love, realize, stupid idiot—"I believe, you will show up, comfort her, and then you can find your happy ending. But just to make it more realistic—you can't be here."

And her gaze lingers at Rude. And Rude completely understands.

He's going to place some ingenious traps in Reno's room.

"Oh. I… see. Right." The redhead Turk looks crestfallen. "But I'll miss your delicious pancakes."

"Well then." Elena attempts to continue, though her cheeks have unfurled into faint rose. "Upon your return, I shall make a magnificent feast. Of pancakes. Your favourite kind."

"I love you, Elena." Reno's embrace knocks the poor Turk off her feet, actually lifted off the ground.

Still. She's back to being the Happy Little Cheerleader again.

Beaming like sunshine.

sk

The door slams behind Reno, flouncing and whistling upon his merry way.

And immediately, Elena turns back to Rude, still tapping away by the table.

"So." Her eyes twinkle, playful for a matchmaker who knows what she's doing but doesn't really. Not when Elena is completely oblivious to her own love life. And Elena is nosy, so regardless, she wants to know. "What's your next move?"

Rude pauses, hesitant. Then he takes a breath, and begins to talk.

"… I was thinking…"

sk

Rude meets her in a supermarket, unexpectedly bumping into her, dropping whatever item that was in his hands. It shouldn't happen of course. The bumping, that is.

He's a grounded, balanced man. That knows martial arts.

He shouldn't 'bump' into anything at all. Or anyone.

For he has poise. And grace. And composure.

And he's very good at making bombs.

But still, he bumps into her.

The beautiful Tifa Lockheart.

"Sorry. Didn't see you there…" His voice trails off into a mumble, as he senses heat rise into his cheeks. Pretty soon his ears are going to boil steam.

"No, it's okay. I wasn't looking where I was going either…" Her lips widen into a soft smile, small, but easily visible. "Since I was searching for the famed Make Your Own Moogle Cakes."

"Ah, you too?" Rude knows exactly what she's talking about, sighing wistfully.

Except it might not have come out correctly… as there's an awkward pause between them, plus her head tilts in some sort of teasing disbelief.

"… Elena… likes to cook. Asked me specifically for this batch." There are many bonuses to wearing shades indoors. Hiding shifty eyes is one of them.

(The pause was far too long. Rude's only excuse is that his brain shut down. And rebooted. He got distracted by the pretty.)

"Marlene too." Tifa nods, face aglow. It makes sense, since Marlene is practically her own daughter. Or niece, that Tifa shamelessly loves to spoil. "But between you and me, real men are those who can cook for themselves. And seeing you in oven mitts wouldn't be a bad thing."

That's almost suggestive.

"We should cook together one day." Nonchalantly, the bald Turk agrees.

(Distracted by the pretty. Repeat the mantra once more. The cause of his slip ups is because he's distracted by the pretty.)

And Tifa just winks.

"I'll look forward to it."

… he just hopes his smile looks amazing.

sk

They take it slowly, moving across the aisles and scanning the shelves with a practised eye for bargains.

At times they catch each others eye, and grin. Other times, they get excited with the latest offer, or discussions about television programs and favourite characters: the obsessive girl who sings like an angel, slowly learning to believe in friendship; and the skinny boy who breaks their heart because he is destined for someone else, not the nice jock who he truly loves.

Because that television has everything, songs and romance and camaraderie and insanity, but most importantly, it has heart.

And Rude and Tifa's footsteps slow, because after they pass the till, that's the moment their paths diverge and they walk off into their separate ways.

Yet he clings to the moment, never saying a word.

sk

Until he does.

"Do you want to fight?"

Dark locks shimmer as Tifa turns back to face him, smile quirked on her lips. One eyebrow arches in amusement, as if to say are you serious?

"As in… exercise?" She steps closer towards him, almost quietly playful. "Test our reflexes, and see who the better martial arts fighter is, after all?"

"… yes, exactly that. We never did have a proper match, you know." A smirk begins to grow. "We were always… handicapped."

"That's an interesting way to put it, Rude." The former AVALANCHE member grins. "But I agree. We never were one-on-one. And that makes all the difference."

"On what?" Feigning ignorance always did feel good, if Rude knew where the conversation was heading.

"On our date, of course." And both are blushing, but that's alright. "The battle with our fists, the second most intimate thing about you and me."

"Winner takes all."

It's a friendly competition of course. And they should use this to their advantage. Maintain shape and all.

"Tomorrow?" He extends his hand.

"Tomorrow." She grasps it, and so they shake, ready for the next day.

Can't resist one final smile before they part.

sk

The sun falls, and rises once more.

Reno spends it by sending fireworks into the air.

And stealing laundry.

It's the latest fashion on how to be a Cool Superhero.

According to Elena.

sk

They meet in the park, stretching gloves and limbs, warming up and going through the motions.

Pushing his shades up to his nose, he asks, voice almost a growl. "You ready?"

"Always."

And they charge at each other, lithely sending a punch that brushes past each others' skin, millimetres away from forming a bruise or breaking teeth. Legs lash out, the result is a nasty kick, and Rude dodges, bending low before he rebounds with new momentum and energy, hand twisting the ground, as he spins back into his feet, centimetres away from her gut.

She catches his wrist, and they freeze for a split second, before her lips twist, and he is sent flying into a tree.

That sad tree breaks in two, splintered into the ground.

"You've learned some tricks." Rude praises her, before charging into a run.

"Ain't nothing to it, foo'." Tifa laughs, taunting him on.

sk

The Cool Superhero sees a defenceless woman and… his bald cohort!

Fight! Inflicting incredible damage to the scenery!

Well. That's too bad.

If the Bald Menace has defected… then he has no choice but to--

Save! The! Day!

With more melodrama than ever before.

sk

The battle changes her; or rather, Tifa is different in battle.

Rude can see it so clearly. All her beauty remains, but the softness is gone. She is hard and determined, and yet that does nothing to deter her. It's almost a dance, how she maintains her balance and fight against him, sometimes gaining the upper hand—

"Whoa!"

—and sometimes losing it.

It's an even match.

But both of them are smiling, blood rushing into their faces, muscles pumped, shades discarded, and the adrenaline courses through their system.

And he wonders, idly, which version he likes more. Then smirks.

It doesn't matter, after all, because both versions are sexy.

"You're cheating!"

"Am not." Lazily, he says, as he uses his body weight to push her to the ground, both clothes ripped and grass-stained; and Tifa Lockheart giggles, warm wine-red eyes filled with glee; chests pressing against each other.

"So, what are you going to do now?" And her voice is only a little bit husky.

He pauses, drawing the moment out. Eyebrow arched, the answer was there from the start. He only likes a little bit of teasing, if it makes her face redder after all.

Simply, he says:

"This."

sk

Can't help but smile as Rude moves forward and kisses her.

She kisses back, and pulls him closer.

Tifa knew, because it's all in the tempo of the battle, fighting almost intense as other romantic activities. She only had to close her eyes and go with the flow…

… and why stop now, if she wants it too?

sk

Oh yeah. Rude thinks as his shades are removed. (Luckily, he has another pair in his pocket.) All according to plan.

sk

Defection is apparently synonymous with Betrayal, Backstabbing Bastard.

The Cool Superhero stops in his tracks, listening the world crash into tiny… something tiny.

Maybe the world shrinks.

It certainly is deprived of oxygen. This in turn, makes The Cool Superhero fume.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

This is not good.

And subsequently turns into another direction, ready to steal some kid's candy.

He's a Turk. It comes with the territory.

sk

Reno's home. Elena knows this by the weight of his feet, and the kind of dainty rhythm that he has; so she looks up and beams at him.

Sadly, and, unexpectedly, the redhead only scowls.

… it doesn't explain his tarnished cape.