Author's Note: Please see the notation in the first chapter.
Disclaimer: We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the Final Fantasy VII or Advent Children works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.
Chapter Fourteen:
Vincent:
He slept only a few minutes more, until the feeling of being watched finally pulled him from sleep. Red eyes cracked just enough to see shining dark eyes staring back, set in soft, lovely features framed by even darker hair. A smile ghosted his lips as he cleared his throat quietly and blinked sleep away, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his right hand. He could hear cicadas beginning their evening song, and guessed they'd slept at least three hours, maybe closer to five. He noted her knee still between his, and her leg over his hip. That, combined with the memory of a few hours ago and the strange whirlwind of words and emotions that had lead them there caused his cheeks to darken, but only a little this time.
He turned his head to yawn, then asked, "Did you sleep well? I'm guessing it's close to dinner by now..." His voice was even lower in tone than normal, and roughened from sleep. He brushed her bangs from her face as she answered, deciding she looked just as beautiful in her disheveled state as she always did.
Tifa:
Her natural smile graced her lips. "I did," Tifa answered quietly. "And so did you, apparently," she teased, one finger lightly tapping his nose. She closed her eyes as he brushed her hair then fixed them on him again. In response to his comment, her stomach growled right on cue and she giggled. "I'd say so."
Unwilling to move just yet, she asked softly, "What would you like for dinner? The restaurant just down the beach has great Italian food. Their shrimp is just delicious. Or," she added, "there's a sushi place around the corner. I haven't tried it yet, but it smelled really good, if that's possible. I think they bake it; it's not just raw fish and rice. Anyway," she chirped, gently wiggling away in effort to get up, she deposited a swift kiss to his cheek and rose from the couch, "decide while I change clothes, okay?"
Tifa disappeared into the bedroom to change from her t-shirt and shorts into a light blue sundress, the fabric swirly and light, perfect for evenings on the beach. Adjusting the slender straps over her shoulders, she brushed out her hair and decided to leave it loose for once. She quickly applied a touch of makeup and stepped into her sandals, done with ablutions.
Vincent:
While Tifa changed clothes, Vincent sat on the couch, willing himself to stand. He hadn't slept so well in a very, very long time. He supposed most of the reason was the weight lifted from his mind by knowing that Tifa was somewhere on the road to emotional recovery, and the brief bit of passion between them had eased some sort of unseen tension he hadn't realized was there. He still worried about taking things too fast, but at least he'd been firmly reminded that he was indeed still alive, inside and out. Perhaps not as much as some, but enough that he didn't feel like a bitter husk of a person anymore. Whether or not it had passed entirely and forever with his realizations during the debate with Tifa, he couldn't tell. But it felt better now, being free of a lot of that guilt. Not all, for there were things for which he'd be eternally guilty, but enough.
He stood despite the protest in slothful limbs and combed his fingers through his hair to fix some of its messiness, then pulled it back and tied it with a thin black cord from inside his bag. Already dressed somewhat appropriately, he didn't bother to change clothes. Black jeans and a matching button-up over a white T-shirt would do fine, monochromatic as always.
He'd decided on Italian by the time Tifa emerged, though it took him a moment to say it. He realized he'd never seen her in anything like the dress she wore, and the look suited her well. "You... you look nice," he finally stammered. Vincent then cleared his throat again and informed her, "I think I'm in the mood for Italian, unless you would really like to try the sushi place."
Tifa:
Always unused to compliments on her looks, Tifa's cheeks flushed and she smiled shyly. "Thanks," she replied quietly, then grinned. "Not so bad yourself, Vincent." Although imagining him with a royal blue or deep scarlet shirt quite crossed her eyes. Those noble colors against that pale ivory skin and midnight colored hair…
Tifa mentally shook herself and wallowed from her fantasizing, coming back to the present. "Italian sounds great." Her nose wrinkled. "I'm not big on sushi, to tell you the truth. I have issues eating seaweed," she said as they left the cottage. The evening breeze was pleasant, exotic and tinged with salt. Tifa strolled amiably beside Vincent, not-quite-by-accident slipping her left hand into his right as they walked along. She hummed under her breath, feeling worlds better than she had earlier in the day.
After arriving at the specified place and being seated at their table, an out of the way nook on the patio, Tifa gazed around and sighed with satisfaction. "Why didn't we come here the first time?" she speculated, taking in the scenery. Her musings were halted by their server, who inquired as to their pleasure. Tifa maneuvered Vincent into ordering for them both, a teasing glint in her eye but she giggled and kept quiet.
However, the complimentary bottle of red House wine was a welcome surprise, the dark red liquid shimmering in the crystal glasses. Although a bit hesitant, even though she ran a bar, she seldom indulged in alcohol, but Tifa felt she was entitled after the events of today, she lifted her glass and took a small sip, rolling it on her tongue. Swallowing, she said, "Mmm, 's good."
Vincent:
He took a sip from his own glass, giving a thoughtful pause before agreeing with her, "It is. The flavor is much smoother than a lot of reds I've tasted." Some were way too strong or bitter, others were so bland that all one could taste was the eight to fifteen percent alcohol they contained and what might have well been grape juice from concentrate. This wine balanced sweet with tart, but went down smooth enough that Vincent made a mental note of it for future references.
While they waited for their food and indulged in the fresh-baked bread with herb-infused olive oil, he picked up on her earlier musing. "Maybe we never came here because between a certain ninja girl and two rather gruff, loud men, not to mention a giant moving stuffed animal, it might have ruined the atmosphere. It would have been entertaining, though." He grinned a little at the thought, then sighed softly. It would never happen now, and he briefly regretted that.
Pushing those morbid thoughts away, he concentrated on her, steering the conversation toward business. "The blueprints look rather good, by the way. I'm not sure if it's exactly what you want, since I had to fill in some minor details, but I think it may be close. If anything requires changing, I'm sure it won't be a problem."
The waiter arrived with their appetizers, first serving Tifa her salad then setting before Vincent a small bowl of shrimp bisque. The man inquired if they needed anything further, and upon dismissal was off to greet another table's guests. Vincent continued between bites, "I've also brought bids from contractors as well as photo samples of their previous five job sites, or written references in some cases. It'll be a while before you need to decide on anything, since it'll take a while for the foundation to be laid, but I've got some samples of tile, wood-stains and paint to consider."
He paused in his thought to look thoughtfully at his bowl of bisque, "This is really good."
Tifa:
Tifa giggled at the hilarity of their mutual musings. "Yeah, I can't see Cid actually enduring this sort of place. Barret might have suffered it, but Cid…no. And Yuffie would have stolen the silverware from every table or locked the bathroom stalls from the inside out." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly but glanced up with delight as food arrived.
Returning to business conversation, Tifa nodded. "I trust your judgment, Vincent," she told him after a bite of crisp salad. "We've hammered out so many different details I think you know what I want even more than I do." She twinkled at him. "Chalk it up to your training," she teased fondly.
Clearing her throat, she went on. "I've been speculating, actually. I'm torn between expanding totally and living upstairs, which would be a hassle regardless, or just adding on living quarters next door and utilizing the old place on both floors." She frowned a bit in thought, then shook her head. "No, trooping upstairs with drinks just wouldn't get it. It'd be hell on wheels, more than likely."
Tifa stirred her salad in the bowl. "What I'd really like is to have the second floor completely partisaned off, separate kitchen, laundry room and the like. Especially if we're expanding to restaurant proportions." A slim shoulder shrugged and she smiled. "Well, we can do homework tomorrow, I suppose. Amid lounging on the beach and being generally lazy."
Vincent:
He smiled without telling her he'd had the plans drawn for optimal use with everything upstairs for living, just letting her talk it out as she often had to do with ideas, sometimes making up her mind a little easier after hearing how something sounded out loud.
At the mention of the word "beach", Vincent frowned a little in thought. The last time they'd visited with the group, he'd avoided the beach like a plague. It wasn't the matter of sunburn as much as the bit about wearing a bathing suit and putting up with other tourists who obviously had no idea what either decency or good taste was. Not to mention that if his ivory skin wasn't enough to make him stick out like a sore thumb, his left arm was. Lastly came the matter of sunburn, from which he knew he would heal quickly and peel back just as white as he'd ever been.
Perhaps Tifa could lie out on the beach and he could sit under one of those large umbrellas and read a book. In normal clothes. That would be fine, he surmised. Either way, he wouldn't comment on his discomfort with the idea, instead asking, "Have you gone swimming yet? I recall Yuffie getting stung by a jellyfish the last time."
Tifa:
Tifa nodded, finishing the last of her salad and chasing it with a healthy swallow of wine. "Mmhm," she affirmed, setting the glass back down. "Yesterday. Got sand everywhere," she grimaced good-naturedly. Then she beamed. "But I got you some stuff, though. Sunshades, heavy sun-block and the latest collection of Poe's poetry. With footnotes, even." She grinned. "Yeah, Yuffie was trying to filch the blasted thing and it bit her. I don't blame it. They are not for sale on del Sol's 'black market', good grief."
Her head tilted as a thought occurred to her. "Why don't we go when we get back from dinner? The moon will be out and bright enough to at least see by. And no sun and no obnoxious people, either."
Vincent:
Gaia bless the woman, she knew him well enough to know what he would prefer. He smiled at her and finished his bisque, chuckling at her comment on Yuffie. That girl would indeed try to sell anything to anyone, except materia, which was the cause of her greed.
The waiter came shortly and set their main courses before them, then cleared the empty bowls, again making his inquiries of whether they needed anything, then parting with a smile and, "Enjoy your meal." Vincent had ordered Chicken Parmesan over a bed of angel hair pasta in Marsala sauce. He'd requested that sauce because Alfredo was usually a little weak for his taste, and the richer flavor of the Portobello mushrooms was better complimented like this.
He began cutting the chicken into small, even bites, pausing at the suggestion to look at her with a slight blush and a bit of a lost look. He blinked at her invitation and the way out suddenly came to him, "I don't have anything to swim in." Aside from that, he was quite unsure about swimming with her, at night, in a romantic setting when things between them lately had been so... compulsive.
Tifa:
Vincent had good taste, Tifa had to give him that. The food smelled heavenly. Swallowing her first blissful bite, she opened her eyes and gave him a look, one eyebrow arched slightly. Not so fast, Valentine. "I took care of that, too," she assured him with an airy grin. "So you have no excuse." Ha. "You are getting in the water, Vincent," she informed him a bit imperiously. "If only once."
Her tone softened and she gave him a smile. "Then it'll be over and you can lounge the rest of the vacation. I won't ask afterwards so don't fret." She took another bite of chicken. "Stop being such a worrywart. Nothing'll bite you, goodness."
Vincent:
His fork stopped just shy of placing a bite of food into his open mouth when she knocked his excuse right out from under him, leaving him with two choices; comply and play along, or be rude and decline, possibly hurting her feelings. Damn. He sighed and eyed her, "Just once?" At her nod he reluctantly agreed, thankful at least that it was going to be at night. "Fine. Just once then."
He dearly hoped that whatever she'd picked out for him covered at least a quarter of his frame. If it were one of those small stretchy things... He shoved the thought as far back into his mind as he could stuff it and continued eating, intent on enjoying his meal. If it made her happy - and no one else was around to see - he guessed it couldn't be too bad.
Tifa:
Tifa gleamed, having won. "Yes," she reiterated, "just once." From the look on his face, she knew he was despairing about the whole prospect, but by damn, the man needed to learn to live a little! All right, again was more accurate, but…oh, Shiva, screw it.
Content with her victory, Tifa subsided and settled down to enjoy their excellent meal, broken only by small nonsensical snippets of conversation. Gaia, but she felt worlds better than she had the previous day and she subliminally knew why, but would attribute it to having company again. Tifa didn't really like being alone. A ghostly memory of she and Cloud sitting on this same beach and talking well into the night wafted through her mind, but she firmly closed and locked the door against the past and turned her thoughts back to the present.
After dinner, Tifa pulled Vincent along the beach-walk, wanting to get home and change into swim clothes. She'd missed her swim today, having had to deal with emotional drama most of the afternoon. Thankfully that was come and gone. It truly was a lovely night; the moon had risen by now and the balmy early summer heat had subsided, leaving the air pleasant. Tifa pulled off her sandals and walked barefoot in the sand, feeling truly lighthearted.
Back at the house, she disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a shopping bag, which she presented to her roommate with a grin. "Here," she said, plunking it in his lap and returning to change. All the mentioned items were there, as well as a decent pair of black swim trunks. Tifa knew better than to indulge in what he was no doubt fearing.
In the bedroom, she wiggled into her own swimsuit, all one piece and black as well. She would never be able to wear anything else, thanks to the long scar that decorated her torso. She wasn't quite as self-conscious about it, but it wasn't something she wanted to show the world. She could understand Vincent's trepidation on that score. Besides, she wasn't entirely comfortable with flashing her body to every pair of eyes watching and had a bit more taste than to do so. Slinging a towel over her shoulder, she emerged into the living room and plunked down on the couch to wait.
Vincent:
Vincent peered into the bag and pulled out the swim trunks, the only thing he would need for a night swim. He exhaled in relief as they were not only decent, but his preferred color. Red wouldn't have been bad either, but black was best, save that he'd look something like a panda in his black hair, stark white skin, and black trunks. He went into the bathroom, changed clothes and took the cord from his hair, letting it fall freely in a sort of controlled chaos.
With a towel slung over his left shoulder, he exited the bathroom to find Tifa already sitting on the couch, looking quite nice in her own swimsuit. He noted that her legs were still well defined, if not as much as they were when she actively fought every day. His eyes wandered but a second more before he stopped himself from taking careful notice of other details and asked, "Are you ready?"
Tifa:
With elbows propped on her knees, Tifa looked up as Vincent emerged into the room and gave him a grin. "Yup," she nodded emphatically, gaze roaming over his lean corded frame, noting the scars decorating his skin but refusing to linger overly long. They were simply a part of who he was. She hopped to her feet, retrieved her towel and traipsed outside, not bothering with her sandals. No point, anyway.
The moon hung thick and full over the sand, illuminating everything in a soft silver glow, making shadows on the ground. Tifa inhaled deeply and pulled a still-reluctant Vincent towards the water, dropping her towel well out of wave-range. She giggled and let go as her feet hit the salt water and she nearly toppled over from the pull. But she recovered balance and waded further, splashing water playfully as she went.
All of a sudden, she yelped and disappeared beneath the dark surface. A heartbeat passed before she clawed her way to the top, gasping for breath amid laughing and giggling. Clawing hair from her face, she flashed Vincent a grin and kept going, splashing merrily as she headed out beyond the breakwater. "Come on, Vincent!" she called. "It doesn't count unless you get completely wet, you know!"
Vincent:
Following Tifa - or rather, being dragged by her - out the door, across the sandy beach and to the water's edge, Vincent wore a look of plain worry, looking around to make sure the area was indeed deserted. He dropped his towel where she deposited hers and was relieved she let him go when she hit the water. He watched her wade out on purposefully unstable legs that allowed her body to be tugged and tossed by the water, and once again thought of Yuffie's jellyfish experience.
It would be just his fortune that a swarm of them would migrate towards shore from some deep, dark part of the ocean the moment he stepped into the water. The sea was beautiful, but Vincent had had a mild phobia of it as a child. Perhaps it could have been attributed to one-too-many scary books or old movies about sea creatures, or the idea of being helpless if caught in a strong current in such a vast amount of water. Now, he guessed his reluctance was more from not swimming in years and being uncomfortable with so much of his skin bare, even in mere moonlight.
At her laughing invitation, Valentine took one step into the water, frowned at the sand squishing between his toes, and then waded to where she stood, considerably more stable. He made no move to completely submerge just yet, though. "I haven't been swimming since I was a teenager," he admitted as the lapping waves caught the tendrils of his hair and swished them to and fro.
Tifa:
Tifa relished the look of complete disgruntlement on Vincent's face and giggled, accidentally snorting water up her nose. Shaking her head, she coughed and spluttered, unable to contain her mirth. She grinned impishly at him as he approached and splashed him after his admission, shrieking and skittering away lest he retaliate.
Glancing over her shoulder, she paused as he only regarded her with a frown, another wave slapping at him playfully, drenching him more. Tifa edged back a bit and, with a grin, splashed both hands towards him, succeeding in getting his head wet. Knowing he wouldn't stand for that, she screeched again and dove beneath the water, swimming for all she was worth to avoid any chastisement. Gaia, but it was fun to play.
Vincent:
The water hit his face, got in his eyes and he frowned at her, though she was obviously having a fun time of it. The second time she splashed him, however, spurred him to movement, though a second too late. Tifa slipped under the water and Vincent grasped only the incoming wave between his fingers. He sighed and swam half-heartedly in the direction she gone, head still above water. It felt rather awkward after so many years, trying to maintain some form of grace while all but doggy-paddling as waves pushed and pulled him at will.
This was a bad idea. But since Tifa seemed so thoroughly thrilled with it, he supposed it was good that he'd agreed to it. Vincent did mean to get out of the water soon, though... after he'd paid her back for splashing him. He waited until she resurfaced some distance away and swam towards her with a scowl, hair plastered to his face.
"That wasn't very nice, you know." Something brushed his foot and thoughts of evil jellyfish sprang to mind, only to fall away a second later when he identified the slithery, inanimate thing as seaweed drifting with the motion of the water. "I've half a mind to drag you up to the beach and plant you in the sand." He was only half-joking. It was an amusing thought.
Tifa:
Tifa surfaced, spied him slogging through the water like a drunken porpoise and sniggered most unbecomingly. "You have to catch me first, slow-poke!" she chortled, darting away easily. She taunted and teased unmercifully, obviously more at home in the water than he. "Goodness, you're really horrible at this, aren't you, Vincent?" she snerked, splashing him again.
While he was recovering, wiping water from his eyes and frowning ferociously, Tifa swam around behind him and, with the next cresting wave, whooped in delight and jumped onto his back, arms and legs latching around his body and pulling them both off balance and crashing into the dark water. The current caught and towed them a bit, but Tifa finally finagled out from beneath Vincent's wildly flailing arms and her head popped above water just as Vincent's did, laughing as hard as she could.
Regaining her feet, she grabbed his shoulders and straightened him back up, holding onto him so he wouldn't topple over again. Shoving dark hair from both their eyes, she giggled. "Now you're all wet," she said, stating the obvious. "And I gotcha, so you won't fall. I promise not to drop you," she said mischievously, nevermind she'd caused the previous one.
Vincent:
Damn all this water. She literally swam laps around him as he flailed this way and that trying to catch her, only to catch the water she splashed at him right in the face. He grew more peeved by the moment and found it even more annoying how she laughed at him and informed him of the obvious. "I told you, I'm out of practice."
When she jumped on his back and took him under, he sputtered and gurgled until his head broke the surface again, all but his chin hidden in a wet curtain of black and he spit and coughed the vile-tasting water out with a grimace. He parted his bangs and shoved them back to glower at her, only to have the thick mass fall back into his face.
As she steadied him and made her little promise, he looked down at her and his frown faded some. She was enjoying herself, truly laughing and having fun. That much made him feel confident that his decision to go along with her little whim. His eyes softened and he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "Thank you, Tifa."
Then, his grip tightened and he shoved her under the water, yanked her back up, shoved her under again and repeated the process a few times more, quickly and not unlike how one might mix a martini. He stopped when he noticed her almost choking and pulled her up, keeping her there, but not about to let go. "You saved me the trouble of catching you." His frown turned into his own version of a smile of satisfaction.
Tifa:
Tifa smiled up at him but her eyes widened as his grip firmed and she opened her mouth to yell as he shoved her under, but inhaled a lungful of water instead. Not smart. She spluttered and blustered in mimic of his earlier indignation and her arms flailed as she tried to regain her feet.
Finally, he stopped and she coughed and clung to him, one arm flung around his neck, the other hand shoving drenched hair from her face. "Thanks, Vincent," she choked, still wracked with coughs, "just add some salt now, huh?"
Vincent:
One corner of his lips turned up in a small smirk. He kept his right arm tightly around her even as she clung to him, lest she get any more bright ideas, and used his left to help balance them against the push of the waves. "I think there's plenty of that in the water." And seaweed, he noticed as he picked a piece out of her hair.
"Now do you still think this was a good idea?" he asked, eying her. He was actually lucky that she'd gotten close enough to catch on her own. With his abysmal swimming skills - which he firmly told himself was only from so many years without practice - he might never have caught her.
Tifa:
"Yes," she replied stubbornly, shooting him a tiny glare. "And you can't change my mind, so shush." Tifa childishly stuck out her tongue at him, ending with a tiny pout, which faded quickly as she giggled in spite of herself. "You always say you're good at everything you do, Vincent, but I'd call your wallowing anything but graceful," she teased, endeavoring to pull him back into the water to swim. "How can you be good at something if you don't practice? C'mon," she entreated, "swim with me."
Vincent:
He frowned as she pulled him toward deeper water again, "I thought you said I only had to get wet..." Then he took offense to her former statement, "And I do not wallow, I simply do not look as... graceful as you. It keeps me afloat and that's as well as I need to swim." It didn't stop her, and his protests were once again reduced to frowning.
They went further until the water was up to his mouth and he had to keep his head tilted back to speak and breathe. He sputtered now and then as a wave lapped over his face and he once again began his underwater paddling in order to gain a few inches above the water so that he could show her his displeasure properly.
Tifa:
Tifa only grinned wider to his discomfort; let him suffer, she thought wickedly. Was for his own good anyway, she reasoned morally. "For Shiva's sake, Vincent," she finally said, coming to a halt and standing on her feet again, taking pity on the man, "you're trying too hard, dear. Just let the water hold you up, for once. Don't fight it," she said, floating back to him. She gazed at him with a grin. "You'd be amazed at the good things that can happen to you when you don't fight them."
Vincent:
Those words made him flush a little, as he was sure they applied to more than just swimming. The frown stayed, but he ceased his struggle and leaned back a bit, as she did. The moment it felt like he was sinking, he jerked forward enough to almost cover his face in water and began his furious paddling to overcompensate. His brow furrowed low at her.
"It's not working," he stated. "You swim your way and I'll swim my way. As I told you, I'm out of practice. It'll come back..." He tried not to feel completely stupid on the last bit. He never recalled being this clumsy, but was never all that good either. It was irritating, especially since she seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.
Tifa:
Brown eyes rolled. "Vincent," she said in exasperation, "stop worrying about it so much! Just relax, for Gaia's sake!" On impulse, she grabbed him and put his arms around her waist. "Here, you big baby," she told him with a half-grin, "hang on to me and you won't drown." Tifa wound her arms around Vincent's neck and just let go, letting the water support them both as they rose and fell with the waves' motion. "See?" she smirked. "No more Vinny-drowning. Or flailing. Or wallowing." One hand smoothed wet hair from his forehead. "Just calm down and relax. I've got you," she said, placing a kiss to his cheek.
Vincent:
He felt even more flustered at her treatment, but found himself unable to argue with her arms around him and his around her. "I'm not a child," he complained, but slowly began to relax and found himself being carried by the water, rather than overcome by it. He remained almost frozen for a minute, then began to look around at the slowly rolling swells of water that crested into smaller, pointed peaks as it closed in on the sandy shore.
He let out the breath he'd been holding slowly, was glad he didn't sink when he did, then inhaled again and looked up into the night sky. He still didn't quite trust the water, but at least now he wasn't "wallowing" as she'd put it. He looked at her reluctantly, admiring her face in the moonlight, a look in his eyes implying that he was still unsure. "How did you become so good at this?" he asked.
Tifa:
A shoulder shrugged. "Practice," she grinned. "I love the water," she confessed. "All of us kids would swim in Nibel Lake every summer, usually to avoid chore-bearing parents and all. We'd fish, catch tadpoles and polliwogs until we got big enough to swim out in the deep water. It was fun, growing up there." Fingers idly played in the hair plastered to pale shoulders. "And it's like bicycle riding. Once you learn how, you never really forget. See, it's coming back to you, huh?"
Vincent:
"A little," he admitted, neglecting to tell her he'd never really been that good to begin with. He was fairly certain she could tell already. He enjoyed hearing about the times she remembered as a child, and tried to picture her running around with a small net, dipping out tadpoles only to have them flop their slippery little bodies right out of her hands. As amusing as it was, that hadn't really been what he'd meant.
He should have clarified, but the real question was known only to him and came into his mind not for the first time, though now he did have more understanding of it. He chuckled with a distant look in his eyes, then focused on her again, "I'm sure those are fond memories. But what I really meant was, how did you become so good at getting me to do things I'm not used to?" He gave her a small smirk with the question, not really expecting - or needing - an answer.
Tifa:
Tifa blinked at his question, then flushed, grateful for the darkness that hid it. "Oh," was all she said for a minute, then glanced at him through her lashes. The water still tossed them a bit, but it was soothing, not menacing. "…I don't know, Vincent," she admitted honestly. "Maybe because that's what friends do? And maybe you trust me, as weird as that seems…?"
Vincent:
The smallest smile, followed by, "Either way, you're very good at it." The water pushed them toward shore only to pull them back out in a slow ebb and flow, and while they drifted on the surface Vincent likewise allowed his mind to drift on thoughts of the changes between them, and how it may affect them. He didn't dare think too far ahead, for every day brought with it the possibility of change. Yet they could adapt, he hoped, in any scenario.
After a few moments, he inquired quietly, "Well, is my lesson over? Or shall I prune and flail a bit more for you?" There was only the barest hint of amusement in the words as he looked at her, one brow cocked.
Tifa:
The question jerked her back from her against-her-will dreamy scrutiny of the moonlight playing over the dark strands of thick black hair and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. "Huh? Oh," she flushed, "I guess so."
With a strange reluctance, Tifa released Vincent and headed for shore, sparing him glances to make sure he didn't sink again. Once her feet touched sand, she scrambled out of the water and shook sand from her towel, drying off a bit. Although it really wasn't helpful in the long run. Oh, well.
She handed Vincent his and they started for the house in companionable silence. Sand coated Tifa's feet and legs by the time they reached the porch and she sighed, brushing at it half-heartedly. "I need a hot shower," she grumped. "And a soft bed where I can sleep for a week."
Vincent:
He did marginally better on the way back to shore. He used the towel she handed him to dry some of the wetness from his hair, then lay it over his shoulders as they walked back. The moon illuminated the beach well, and the porch on which they stood for a few minutes to drip-dry and dust the sand from themselves. "I could do for the same," he mused, though he didn't think he could stay in bed that long. Thirty years of being cooped up in a coffin had made him somewhat restless when it came to lazing around for long periods.
The thought flashed through his mind of them sharing a shower, then the bed. That notion was banished quickly to a far corner of his mind, right about where he'd stashed the thoughts of evil jellyfish and other sea creatures and drowning only a few minutes ago. Some other rather interesting ideas were stored there as well, locked up tight to avoid further thoughts on any of them. Oddly enough, a good many of them involved the woman beside him. "Did you enjoy the swim?" He now felt a little guilty for pulling her away from it, but was more relieved to be back on dry land.
Tifa:
Tifa nodded emphatically. "I did," she said brightly, kicking more sand from her feet and opening the door. "Thanks for joining me," she said with a grin, indulging herself with another quick peck to his cheek. "I know it was miserable for you." Preceding him inside, she flicked on the lamp and, flitting through the place, deposited their wet towels in the laundry hamper and emerged from the bedroom with dry nightclothes.
"Mind if I get a quick shower?" she asked, clutching the dry clothes to her chest, all too aware of the cool air prickling her skin. Gooseflesh rippled across her arms. "I won't be long," she promised, not waiting for an answer and she disappeared into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, Tifa deposited her clothes on the counter with a thankful sigh.
Damn it, she thought with a frown as she wiggled out of the wet suit, the man wasn't supposed to look like some mythical god standing there all wet and slippery, with all that pale skin and dark hair and…and… Tifa's train of thought wrecked as she bumped her head against the showerhead, grimacing at the sharp pain in her skull. Serves me right, she thought ruefully.
For the duration of her ten-minute shower, she firmly rejected all images of Vincent Valentine standing on the beach, dripping wet and, even though he felt miserable, looking completely delectable and devourable. It just wasn't dignified, that's what it was. She knew better than this. But oddly enough, was rapidly losing the ability to care…
Vincent:
He opened his mouth to reply, but she had just closed the door to the bathroom. Vincent dropped his towel and stood on it to avoid dripping all over the floor, crossed his arms and waited. Those thoughts he'd so adamantly chased away wiggled back into the forefront of his mind again, and with an annoyed sigh he pushed them back again. And again.
So, the kiss and all that it implied had changed his view of her, or maybe just brought it to light. Whatever the case, he was glad when the door opened and Tifa walked out, dressed for bed and toweling her hair. His clothes were still in the duffel bag, which was already in the bathroom. Without a word he made his way past Tifa and into the bathroom, shutting the door and stripping out of the wet swim-trunks. They hit the tile floor with a wet plop and he stepped into the shower, indulging in the hot water despite the grit of the sand in the bottom of the shower. He washed the smell of saltwater from his hair and grumbled mentally that lavender was little better than plumeria for a man.
The grumbling did little to distract him from thoughts of Tifa, which the shower and the scent seemed to amplify. A few minutes later he stepped out from the shower and toweled his body and hair, then pulled on a pair of loose, navy blue cotton pants. He preferred to sleep without the confines of clothing, but since there was only one bedroom... Then it struck him, and he sighed. The couch would have to be his bed for two weeks. And he was a foot taller than it was long. He adjusted the drawstring waist of the pants and exited the bathroom a moment later, spare linens in his arms from the bathroom closet.
Tifa:
Tifa had her hair brushed and coffee made by the time the bathroom door opened again. She'd stocked the small kitchenette with snacks and the like to quell any incipient munchies they might have. Padding to the couch, barefoot and in comfy pajamas, consisting of loose cotton bottoms and a thin pink tank-top, she curled a leg beneath her and sipped at her coffee, laden with sugar and milk, just as she liked.
She blinked uncomprehendingly as Vincent appeared with an armful of sheets, then it dawned on her. Oh, duh. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again and was about to voice her thought, but her teeth closed around the words. Surely she couldn't… Her brow furrowed and she frowned. Blessed Planet, will you shut up, she scolded her prudish mind.
It ceased its protestations and she finally untied her tongue long enough to say hesitantly, "…um, you can sleep in the bed, Vincent, if you want to. It's large and big enough for both of us." Color flamed her cheeks but she rushed on. "And I can't imagine the couch being anything near comfortable, as tall as you are." Flustered, she set down her cup before she ended up wearing the contents. "I mean, you know…um, yeah. So."
Vincent:
He blinked at her suggestion. Once, then again, and a third time before his mouth opened to stammer, cheeks pink, "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean... I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." He added the second half to make it seem as if he wasn't thinking that something might actually happen in the way they'd almost allowed on the couch. Sure, they'd napped there. But the bed seemed so much more... intimate somehow.
Perhaps it was simply his upbringing that told him such. More likely it was the couch and the swim and the shower and all those little thoughts that came along with. Not to mention, Vincent had a way of either kicking the covers completely off or rolling up in them. He guessed he wouldn't make for a good bed-bug to share blankets with. A little part of his mind couldn't help reminding him how stupid his reluctance was.
Tifa:
Why did her mouth get her in trouble? Wait, she blinked. Trouble? All she'd done was offer to share the other side of the bed. Gaia, it wasn't like she was planning on…get a grip, Tifa! her brain screamed. This is stupid, she chastised herself. Grow up, girl. So she shook her head with a smile. "It's all right, Vincent. I don't mind. Believe me," she chuckled, "king size for Shin-Ra's standards is huge. I think our whole group could fit, with room to spare." Her nose wrinkled. "Not that it's an appealing thought, but you get the gist."
She nodded towards the kitchen, picking up her cup. "There's coffee, if you want some. I think I'm going to finish this one and then crawl in bed with my book. Getting a little sleepy."
Vincent:
Another look at the couch combined with her assurance convinced him that the bed was preferable. He nodded, "All right. Thank you." He returned the linens to the closet in the bathroom and went to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee, then sat on the couch with her in companionable silence. He finished his cup just as she put hers in the sink. He did the same as she walked into the bedroom, and he followed a moment later, having nothing else to do and equally tired. He watched her sit propped against the generous supply of pillows, reading with the aid of the lamplight.
On the opposite side of the bed, Vincent pulled back the covers and slipped beneath them, turning out the lamp on the nightstand next to him. He lay on his back, but sleep would not come so quickly, so he simply watched her from the corner of his eye.
Tifa:
After locking down the cottage like a proper chatelaine, Tifa deposited her coffee cup in the sink and padded into the bedroom, turning on the lamp. She fluffed her pillows and sank into bed with a contented sigh, then sat up against them and retrieved her book. She glanced at Vincent as he silently slipped into the other side and resumed the prone position. Tifa read for a few minutes, then the book plopped into her lap as she flopped it. She looked over at her housemate. "Vincent," she inquired quietly, "you're brooding again. What's the matter?"
Vincent:
"Nothing," he replied automatically. Obviously that was the wrong answer, because Tifa gave him a scolding look. He sighed and tried the round-a-bout way to a partial truth, drumming fingers on his chest on top of the blanket. His voice was low and thoughtful, as if admitting the core of the problem earnestly, "Well, I just wanted to warn you that I toss and turn a bit in my sleep. So if I wind up rolled up in all the blankets, just pull them back or wake me up and tell me." There, that would satisfy her curiosity and let her get back to that book. Or so he hoped.
Tifa:
"Vincent," she said, "there's three feet of room in the middle of the bed. I'm not that worried, dear. If you flop around, it's doubtful I'll know it; when there's nothing to do, I can sleep like a brick." But she couldn't help a grin. "You're a cover hog? That surprises me. I figured you'd be one to sleep only under a sheet and nothing else. You know, all hot and stuff."
As soon as she said it, she could have bitten her tongue. What is with these double innuendos, she wondered fervently. "I like to sleep deep under cover too," she hastened on. "So you might have a fight on your hands, Valentine."
Vincent:
He was thankful she didn't press on, and did not take too much notice of her wording on how he slept. "Well, if worse comes to worst, we can always drag out the spare blankets. I'd hate to ruin a good friendship over the rights to bed-covers." That hint of a smirk returned before he buried under the blanket to his neck and sighed softly, trying to relax.
No matter what she said, he doubted he could get used to sharing a bed with her that easily, simply for the knowledge that she slept only a couple of feet away, and that their feelings for each other had reached beyond the platonic levels. "Goodnight, Tifa," Vincent said, content to leave it at that as he rolled on his side, facing her with his eyes closed.
Tifa:
"Good night, Vincent," Tifa softly echoed, her gaze on him warm as he settled down beneath the covers. Finished reading, as she doubted she could concentrate anyway, she set her book aside and turned off the lamp, following his example and burrowing beneath the covers as cool darkness settled over the bedroom. Despite everything, Tifa drifted off into sleep rather quickly.
About four hours later, however, her eyes popped open and she yawned, desperately thirsty. Crawling from bed grumbling, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water and returned with it after a few large gulps, placing the glass on the bed table. Plopping back down on the mattress, she heard a faint grumble and suddenly remembered she wasn't alone in the huge bed. She looked at the deeply covered lump and had to grin. Just like he'd said, Vincent was buried under several inches of coverlets. Good grief, was he that cold natured?
Idly, she wondered why she wasn't more disturbed to be sharing a bed with Vincent Valentine and discovered it didn't really matter. She'd shared other things with far worse. Her traveling companions weren't exactly the most…refined bunch, she thought with a grin. But she'd chalk up the urge to brush away thick dark hair from his forehead to maternal instinct, although the rules just wouldn't bend that way to her letting fingertips gently drift down his cheek and trace the stern line of his jaw. Bad habits, those.
Vincent:
It was almost two hours before Vincent could drift into dreams. It was the idea more than the reality of sharing a bed with her that kept him awake, the idea of the supposed wrongness of it. That and the fact that for a while he watched her sleep. His sleep was filled with dreams of nonsense that had little or nothing to do with anything relatively important as one random thought after another flitted in images and sound through his unconscious mind.
Yet being a light sleeper, the touch on his cheek and along his jaw pulled him from those dreams into wakeful realization that a gentle hand was touching his face. Red eyes opened and fixated on her without alarm, only taking a slow blink to recall where he was and why she was there. He said nothing, but watched her, wondering why she'd woken and what she might be thinking.
Tifa:
Tifa withdrew her hand as Vincent stirred beneath it. She felt a stab of guilt for waking him; truly the man needed some decent rest. She offered a half-smile in apology. "Sorry," she muttered sheepishly. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Was thirsty and needed water."
She slid between the sheets again and sighed comfort. "Were you sleeping good?" she asked quietly, settling her head more comfortably on the pillows. "Better than the couch, isn't it?"
Vincent:
Vincent blinked some of the sleep from his eyes and nodded to both questions. "I was sleeping well, and it's all right. I think I can go back to sleep without any problems." Though not at the moment, he knew as he watched her. "It is better than the couch," he admitted, voice still rough from sleep. He closed his eyes and mused with a small smile, "Did you know you talk in your sleep?" he asked. He hadn't been able to decipher a lot, but she had been mumbling animatedly before he'd gone to sleep.
Tifa:
Unsurprisingly, Tifa flushed. "Yeah," she answered, braiding her fingers together. "Always have. What was I saying?" she asked with morbid fascination. "I used to wake myself up doing it, but could never remember just who or what I was talking to. Or what I was fussing about." She yawned again, then giggled. "Used to annoy the hell out of Yuffie, when we shared a bunk aboard the Highwind. She'd throw pillows at me to wake me up."
Vincent:
Well, here was quite an opportunity. He could tell her anything. So he said the first thing that came to mind, "You were talking to me I believe, but I'm not sure. Something about a washing machine and its uses besides doing laundry." He couldn't help his tiny smirk as he said the words. It was mean, it was a lie, but he thought she deserved to squirm a little for his amusement, especially since he had looked a complete fool earlier for hers.
Tifa:
Tifa opened her mouth to retort, but it froze, her jaw hanging as his words permeated her brain. He didn't…she didn't! Oh, blessed Planet! Surely she hadn't…Mortification flooded her face as blood rushed to her cheeks and she felt she might just sink deep into the mattress at the visual reminder. Tifa couldn't even squeak as the delicious horror of that obscenely dirty joke slashed across her vision and she snapped her mouth shut, wishing she could just vanish.
It was about then she noticed the small, nearly imperceptible grin hovering around Vincent's mouth and her eyes involuntarily narrowed. …he was lying. He was teasing her! About…that! Her teeth ground and she stammered flustered indignance, snatching a pillow and effectively smacking him with it.
"You're lying!" she yelled, getting to her knees wielding the pillow like a bat. "I did not, you mean old man! Ooh, Vincent, I hate you!" But giggles broke through her tirade and she smacked him again, just for good measure!
Vincent:
His laugh was low but still surprised him amidst her flailing at him with the pillow. Her mortification had been a sight to behold, and he regretted that he hadn't been able to completely hide his fib. He let her bop him a few times, took in her words and smirked outright, catching and holding the pillow in one hand.
"Are you sure I'm lying? Maybe I'm just thoroughly amused. You seemed so taken with the whole concept..." He was pushing well past all moral boundaries but did not care, jerking her own pillow away from her and hitting her with it just once, as if to emphasize his words, or maybe the nature behind them.
"You stopped mumbling just before answering an important question, though. Do you prefer the wash cycle, or the spin cycle?" The question almost sounded genuine. Almost. A part of him could hardly believe his own words as he began to color appropriately. The rest of him accepted it as the results of both becoming more relaxed and being around Cid and Barret too much.
Tifa:
Tifa didn't give up her fluffy weapon easily, hanging on as he snatched it away and falling backwards as it escaped her fingers. She scrambled back to her knees, about to retrieve another one and raked tousled hair from her eyes as they widened at his words. Her lips formed a perfect "O" of indignation and shock. Sweet Gaia above, this was intolerable! She blinked and yelped as he smacked her with her own damned pillow and ducked any return baps.
She missed the flush on his cheeks in deference to the flaming of her own face and nearly passed out from his latter question. Cycles, good gods, what? Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted. "You're getting nasty, Vincent," she accused. But then she paused and tilted her head, as if in serious consideration. "Well, I'd have to think the spin cycle would be better." One eyebrow cocked. "Did you have ideas to try it out or what?"
Vincent:
It was his turn to open his mouth without having any words to say, though the corners still barely tilted upward. Both brows rose as his mind screeched to a momentary halt, but he quickly reined it in to play the filthy verbal game.
"Perhaps, but I'd rather have one of Cid's shirts handy for that." His color deepened as he dared to take it a step farther. "I had thought about the shower, though." He regretted it the instant it came out, for it was the actual truth. He guessed his tone and this little match might shake her off the trail of that little fact.
Tifa:
"It's not big enough," she retorted automatically, recalling the cottage's step-in shower. "Unless…" and shut up as wicked visions of how it might work filled her head. Teeth caught her lower lip as she paused, deep in thought, but came from it quickly and blinked several times to clear the visions. She snorted. "Good grief, Vincent, why not just go for it here and now?"
And could have fallen off the bed in flaming embarrassment. Her mouth opened again, to no doubt utter some other complete fatality, but she managed a, "…I…I'm just going to shut up now…" She sank onto the mattress and hugged her knees, feeling about as stupid as she'd ever felt.
To be continued…