Review Responses:
DynastyWARRIORS: Glad to have you back! I really missed your reviews! Yeah, Cloud got to lose it there. Poor Tifa… Sephy IS waiting on the wings, lurking…*evil laughter* dark aura12: Thanks! I try, I try. Stay tuned, please! Toriga-Okami: I'm glad you like my story so much! Makes me happy…I suppose last chapter was a bit filler-y, but it was necessary and very emotional for both of them, so it really had to happen. More plot in this one, I promise. NamioftheSea: Yeah, he has…the only problem is he LOOKS saner now…Glad you liked the update! TenkaCat: I know, poor Cloudy…we must hug him. I hope you like this chapter! vLuna: I know, he's so dumb. Still, it seemed very 'Cloud' to muck things up while trying to fix them…it's all up to Tifa now. *wink* LadyTeefStrife: Again you capture the very essence of my chapter and make me squee with joy! Pain, pain, pain…what painful people. Tifa is getting a bit of memory, but it's still fuzzy. And as for fluff…read on… Kurogane7: Sorry, I don't have a clue who that character is. Never heard of it…Also, if you subscribe, you get a bit of my soul. It's the running deal. PLEASE… AnimePrincess411: Thanks; it is an obscene amount of fun. I like asylums, too, but I also try to keep everybody in character…I'm glad you think I do well! *blush* Darkhorse666: Thank you, darling. Also, "it's so god?" Thanks. My story is now omniscient. Truth-Unspoken: Thanks—I LOVE parallels, they're just fun to throw in. I'm glad you like my descriptions, I love writing them. Thanks for tuning in and keep reading! **: Yeah, Cloud could use some forgiving at this point…they both deserve hugs and shakes. I'm honored you said you liked my story so much. And that you reviewed for me—reviews are what keep me going when I've lost inspiration. You, darlings, are my muses… kerapal bubbles: I'm so glad! I spent a really long time making sure chapter 9 drooled emotion from every word, and I hope this one will, too!
WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER
Chapter 10: Paradise Blue
(I'm afraid I DO own FFVII, actually, and yes, this means I own Cloud. I keep him locked in the basement with the rest of the harem.)
Yuffie, although a tad over exuberant at times, listened when she was told to do something. (When it was something she wanted to do, that is.)
So when Tifa told her to go keep Vincent company while Tifa had her little chat with Cloud, the small young woman happily bounded over into the tall man's arms.
He didn't respond when she pried his legs away from his body so she could settle into the curve of him, didn't speak when she threw her arms around his torso and snuggled into his chest.
But when she looked up and sang, "Vinnie, I'm cold," he reached for the blanket he wore fastened around his shoulders and threw it over the both of them, and his legs tightened slightly, bringing her a little bit closer to his body, and his warmth.
Yuffie giggled, pleased, and snuggled into him.
For a few minutes they sat like that, letting their communal body heat warm the small space beneath the blanket, but Yuffie wasn't good with sitting for very long, and before much time had passed she was fiddling—with her fingers, her toes, the ends of Vincent's hair.
When she tugged very lightly on his overlong bangs, he finally tilted his head to look at her. Amber eyes flowed with liquid warmth, and Yuffie blushed, giggling again, under his stare. Her bruised-plum eyes were warm and wet, staring up at him, and Vincent swallowed despite himself.
Her voice pitched high and singsong, Yuffie trilled, "Vinnie's really pretty, you know, right?" Her fingers combed through his hair happily, sorting out the disordered black strands, and his lower lip twitched.
The motion caught Yuffie's eyes, and, without quite getting how, she found herself staring at his mouth. His lips were pretty pale, somewhere between peach and lilac, and they weren't full but they weren't thin either, and they looked soft.
So Yuffie stretched up and kissed him flat on the lips.
They were soft!
Chuckling happily, she pulled away, her eyes finding his again. Vincent took two hard breaths before growling quietly, "Please, don't do that again."
Yuffie's lower lip pouted out petulantly, and abruptly Vincent was staring at her, reliving the feel of that lip pressed to his own, soft and round and full, and almost painfully sweet…
She shifted carefully so that she was straddling his lap rather than curled in it, and made sure the blanket was still flung over them, hiding them in their own private, warm world.
Body heat and pulsing heartbeats raised the temperature inside their enclosure, and a bead of sweat dripped off Vincent's temple. Enthralled and delighted by this, Yuffie leaned in and licked the perspiration from his cheek, her tongue lightly brushing his cheek.
Vincent caught her head between long-fingered hands and snarled, amber eyes going angry, but still warm. "Yuffie, I told you to stop that."
She pouted again for a brief moment before she broke into a wide grin. Leaning carefully forward, she eased herself up Vincent's lap, delighting in the way he swallowed as her hips worked over his. Her face drew close to his, her diminutive stature given a boost by her position in his lap.
When she was scant inches away from him, she opened her mouth carefully wide and breathed her next words over his skin: "But I don't want to stop, Vincent…"
Then she kissed him again. Lovely and insistent.
His lips were really, really soft.
Her lips truly were as soft and sweet as they looked…
Several hours later, when Yuffie had crawled out from under his blanket to amuse herself elsewhere, Vincent Valentine would lie there, contemplating to himself, and realize that had been the first time she'd ever called his full name.
He would realize her rather liked the sound of it falling from her lips.
He would realize he liked the feel of those lips against his own even better.
…XxX…
Do you trust Tifa enough to put a fragile heart in her hands and ask her not to break it?
He did.
He really did trust her. More than anyone or anything in the world—including himself. He would trust her with his mind, his body, his heart—his whole life was hers if she wanted it. All she had to do was ask, and he'd lay everything he had at her feet…
Everything that he was, was hers.
He really did trust her.
That's why he was here, fingernails carving gouges out of her door as he tried to force himself to turn the handle.
He did trust her with himself. He knew she wouldn't break him intentionally. But he didn't know if she could forgive him, and a false smile was even worse than hatred.
He'd been trying to fix everything and had shattered it all instead. And now he had to leave it to her to pick up the pieces, or leave them on the floor, where they would cut and cut until they were ground into dust.
But he really did trust her.
So he turned the handle.
Inside, she was curled up at the head of her bed, leaning against the backboard, legs drawn to her chest, arms folded around her knees. Raspberry-chocolate eyes stared blankly ahead, not refocusing as he stepped into the room and closed the door. Her face was creased with confusion and contemplation, her lips thinned as she pressed them together in frustration.
And she was so beautiful…
Her name rose in his chest and throat, bubbling up, and poured out over his lips like boiling water, all heat and steam and crystal clear.
"Tifa…"
She didn't respond.
Very slowly, he walked over to the bed, making sure his every step was clear and emphasized, so she could stop him if she wanted to. But Tifa made no move or sound to halt him, and he climbed carefully up onto the bed, kneeling in front of her.
Blood and wine, unfocused, continued to stare through him, as if he weren't there at all.
His brows knotted and his eyes narrowed. Pale fingers, trembling, came up to lightly trace her jaw.
"…Tifa…?"
Her breath rushed out against his fingertips, and her eyes blinked several times as she struggled to focus. At length her eyes settled on his face, then widened in slight shock at his proximity. "Cloud?"
He exhaled in a rush.
"Where'd you go, Tifa? Don't go away like that…" With his fingertips, he smoothed the creases from her brow, then traced down her temples to her cheeks, drawing a path over her cheekbones. She sighed and turned her face into his palm.
"Warm," she breathed, rubbing her head back and forth against the curve of his hand.
He grunted quietly. "That's you," he corrected quietly. His right hand continued down the side of her neck, coming to rest lightly on her left shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head to look at the damage there.
Her tank top exposed her whole shoulder—scar tissue, and scabs and small bruises from his own hands. He still had blood under his fingernails…
Groaning, he let his head fall onto her shoulder, his left hand slipping down to cup her neck. Tifa stiffened slightly from surprise, and Cloud rubbed his forehead against her scar, breath hot against her bare skin.
"Every time," he murmured, only barely loud enough to still be directed at her. "Every time I try to make things better, I only hurt you again…I tried to protect you then, and I killed you…I try to explain myself now, and I've gone and bruised you and made you cry again…"
His left hand slipped around her neck to clench in the hair at her nape, and he lifted his head to stare her dead in the eyes.
Blood wines and sin…
Paradise blue…
"You are beautiful when you cry, Tifa. You're always beautiful." His voice and eyes betrayed bottomless sorrow as he spoke. "But I would never want you to cry. Ever. I just—I—" Midway through the sentence, his voice failed, breaking off into silence, and he turned his face away.
Gentle fingertips found his jaw and turned his face back up to hers, and eyes like chocolate were melted and warm and slipping over him like heat turned to liquid, the most beautiful drowning sensation, drowning in warm.
Warm he'd desired for so long without the hope to ask for…
"I'm sorry."
Words he'd been waiting to say for seven years. His arms tightened compulsively, clutching her to him, her legs trapped between them, but he didn't care, he just held her as tight as he possibly could and buried his face into her hair because she smelled like soft and sweet and warm.
"I'm so sorry. Gods, Tifa…" And then, so quietly he himself could barely hear it: "My Tifa…"
His voice rose again when he continued. "I couldn't help it. I couldn't control it. I was just a kid, Tifa, and you jumped in front of me trying to protect me, and the sword was too heavy, and…I'm so sorry. I wanted to sit there and hold you while you died, I wanted to kill him as revenge for you, I just wanted your beautiful eyes to open again, even if it was only one more time…"
"Stop it."
The words were almost silent, murmured against his throat, and he felt the vibrations against his skin more than he heard the sound coming out of her mouth.
Tifa shoved him away, and his arms slipped from her shoulders, falling to his sides because he didn't have the strength to hold them up anymore.
He didn't want to be turned away…
He really did trust her.
Uncurling from her fetal position, she straightened onto her knees before grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up, too. When he complied and knelt in front of her, she placed a hand on either side of his jaw, fingers working into his hair, and looked him dead in the eyes.
Chocolate and roses and darkness…
Paradise blue.
"Stop saying that, Cloud," she ordered, and her tone allowed no argument.
His hands came up to settle on her hips, and he mumbled, "Saying what?"
Her fingers yanked gently on the hair at his nape, a tender reprimand. She looked up at him and whispered. "Stop saying that you killed me."
One of her hands moved to take his right from her hip. She pulled it upwards and laid his palm over the center of her chest.
He could feel her heartbeat pounding under his fingers…
Tifa gently placed her hand over his own, cupping his face with the other. "Feel that?" she whispered, voice soft and soothing and completely sure. "I'm alive, Cloud. I'm alive, and I'm right here. A scar is just a scar. A memory is just a memory. This is me. This is Tifa Lockhart. I'm here, and I'm alive, and I'm never going to leave you again."
With that, she fell into his arms.
Cloud crushed her to him, and their body heat poured together. She sighed and felt her every muscle ease in the heat of him, like the first swim in the clear ocean water on a much-needed vacation. The strong, gentle warmth seeped into her, filling her all the way to her bones, and the smell of him was in her nose and the solid strength of him in her arms, and Cloud, Cloud, Cloud.
His voice was throaty and heated when he whispered, choked, into her hair. "Tifa…Tifa, Tifa…"
She had better hearing than he gave her credit for. "Your Tifa," she whispered into his shoulder.
For a moment he stiffened from surprise before chuckling quietly and gathering her tighter. Nose buried in the soft, dark hair at the top of her head, he whispered the vow over and over again into her hair and her smell and her eyes.
"My Tifa…"
…XxX…
A/N
Oh, dear, has it been five days already? Slow me…
I hope this chapter oozes fluff the way I intended it to. I love Cloud and Tifa being cute…*snuggles*
This is another one of those chapters that went through three drafts before it even was TYPED. Then it had another two. Gods, sometimes these dang characters just DO NOT COOPERATE.
Also, remember last time when I said chapter 9 was writing purgatory? I lied. Essay writing is the creative author's purgatory. THEY KILL MY CREATIVE SOUL.
Official VincentXYuffie kiss! I have no idea where that came from, but then, I never seem to know a thing when it comes to those two…
And one thing I forgot to mention last chapter—me being ignorant of Genesis at the time this fic was begun, he's not included here. Having learned about him since, I've decided Sephiroth is going to inherit his awesome trait of poetry-spouting. Why? Because it is kickass, obviously.
Read and review and 3-5 days before next chapter!