I've got just a couple more days before I head up to Dragoncon so just about everything is on hold. But before I went I had to do this. It's a feel better fic for Sekihara Tae who was busy typing mine while she was going through some rough stuff herself. She wanted the next installment of the 'Seduction' and 'Fighter' chapters. Well, here it is even if it didn't turn out the way I'd planned. Cloud's been particularly determined of late. Thanks to demonegg for the idea on his... attire. Set shortly after ACC.

That Man

by TamLin

The man was cheating.

Tifa stood in the kitchen in front of the hamper of laundry she had been in the process of carrying into the small side garage to wash and glared accusingly at one of his shirts. He was cheating. Cloud Strife was cheating!

It was bad enough that he'd been around lately. Not 'around' but – around! Cloud's job took him out and about a great deal. Tifa was used to it. Cloud seemed to need to roam just as strongly as he needed to come back home. After the geostigma though he had been making it a point, whenever he could, to be home by dinnertime. It let him eat with the children, it let them have time to spend with him before they had to go to bed, it let him sit at the bar afterward and unwind, going over the messages she'd taken for him and the routes he'd plotted out with the children earlier in the night. It let them spend time together after she'd shut down the bar at one in the morning. He'd help her clean up and then they'd relax together with a movie or talk or more often, simply not talk, snuggled up on the couch. She liked that Cloud was making it a point to come home to them… to her now.

Realizing she was starting to smile at the shirt, she narrowed her eyes and focused on the immediate.

For the past month, Cloud Strife had been seducing her. Not in a way anyone else would recognize but to her it was as obvious as the sword he carried on his back. Yuffie, for instance, was absolutely convinced they were both obtuse about each other – which probably wasn't helped by the fact that whenever she showed up both Cloud and Tifa intentionally acted as dense as two brick walls. It had been particularly hard to keep a straight face the last time though. Yuffie had brought in a magazine with a 'How Do You Know If He's the One' quiz and insisted that Tifa take it with her. Cloud, plotting new routes and sitting at a nearby table in the closed bar, had been behind the tiny ninja's back and out of sight – and, of course, made the briefest, 'Cloud Strife' grimaces with his face over each of the questions. Which had been, to Tifa, as loud and easy to understand as if he'd actually been making the snarky comments out loud. She'd had a hard time pretending she was serious while she answered the quiz with the most clueless answers she could think of. Clueless answers, she was proud to say, that had made Cloud choke on his drink at least once. Yuffie had left disgusted with both of them when, at the end of the quiz, Tifa had managed to give her a friendly, vacuous look at her prompting and Cloud had acted as if he hadn't even been aware of the quiz taking place at all. Later that night, curled up together, he'd kept making her laugh as he quoted ridiculously extravagant quiz questions in monotone and then prodding her with his impression of Yuffie's "like… you know… a certain sooooomeone…"

So the man was seducing her and… and doing it really well, she had to admit. She realized she was holding his crumpled up shirt over her heart and snapped back to what she was supposed to be doing. Which was the laundry.

And plotting revenge. Or at least some kind of viable defense.

Of course, she wasn't entirely faultless. She had decided two could play at the seduction game and she'd done her fair share of teasing in retaliation. She was particularly proud of the way she'd shifted from the bathroom to sitting on the bed when she smoothed the lotion on her legs just before going to bed each night. He seemed to always make it a point to be present for that.

The problem was he was cheating.

She gave his shirt a little shake. It was hard to tell if she was imagining it was a mini-Cloud or if it was the kind of gesture you'd do with a dishrag at a misbehaving dog.

It was bad enough his hands were staring to drag when he touched her. He was still using the innocent touches that pretended they didn't mean anything but now when his hand would 'accidentally' brush her stomach on the way by or 'helpfully' push the hair back off her neck or 'incidentally' rest on her hip when they were standing near each other, it would… drag when it moved off of her. The touching was bad – wonderful – bad enough, she told herself with a shake of her head as she forcefully shoved his shirt back into the laundry basket with the other clothes. It did all the bone melting, stomach gasping, heart knotting feelings to her but when his fingers and palm dragged, slow and warm and solid, against her as his hand slipped away…

There were rules, gosh darn it! And she couldn't play by them if he was busy making her want to either bite him or tackle him to the floor.

That man was cheating!

It wasn't just the… dragging either. He'd taken to nuzzling. Cloud Strife was a nuzzler! It was… horribly devastating because half of the time it wasn't even meant as anything other than sweet and innocent. The other half of the time of course, standing behind her while she tried to talk on the phone, or cook dinner, or get something out of the storage closet – well, the other half of the time it was the exhale of his breath like liquid fire against her skin and weak knees and roller coaster stomach. But the times he did it innocently… oh, he melted her heart and soul in the unconscious moments when he rubbed his cheek or his chin against her, usually when he was half asleep and not aware, seeking or sharing or giving comfort and reassurance. There was something amazingly defenseless and intimate about his unconscious nuzzles.

She smoothed a hand over his shirt with a soft smile, eyes distant.

The tinny sound of dropped metal, small enough to indicate a tool of some kind, came through the door to the garage and brought her back to reality. Cloud was taking a day off to work on Fenrir. He insisted the machine needed a tune-up even though she suspected it was just an excuse to play with his favorite toy. One of his favorite toys, she amended with a smirk and shifted the hamper to her hip.

The garage was going to be hot. Despite the weather outside, the small, windowless room held heat from the boiler and now it would hold the heat from the dryer too. Cloud had the same resistance to heat that he did to cold though. Maybe she'd sit in there with him though since the kids were gone with Barret for the afternoon. It was normal for them to keep each other company even if it was without a single word of conversation and doing entirely different things. It was just… better when they could be in the same room.

She pushed the door between the rooms open with her free hip and let herself in. Usually when he was in the garage the family respected his private space and left Cloud alone. He'd wander out when he wanted their company. But today was laundry day. Today was always laundry day and Cloud knew it. In fact, he'd asked earlier before declaring he was going to be working in there on Fenrir so she didn't feel bad about intruding.

With a soft noise, she dropped the hamper on the floor in front of the washer and then turned, hands on her hips and relaxed, to make a comment.

Whatever she'd meant to say flew right out her ear as her mind went blank.

Cloud Strife, flat on his back, had pushed himself out from under Fenrir and now proceed to lever himself up on his elbows. Tifa's eyes blinked but that was the extent of her reaction.

Cloud Strife, live in 'he's the one' and partner in crime as well as child raising, was looking at her with a raised pale brow and…

"Where's your shirt?" She was proud of how calm and steady her voice came out. One of his shoulders shifted and his lips relaxed. She noted the smear of grease across his side where he'd absently rubbed a hand… and the way the muscles in his side there overlapped and melted so smoothly into his flat stomach.

"It's hot," was his perfectly logical, perfectly mild answer.

"yeah…" she agreed weakly. The edge of his mouth hooked upward into one of those smirks she remembered so well and it snapped her back to herself. In one smooth move she stooped down, scooped up his shirt and threw it at him in a ball.

"Cloud Stife, you're doing that on purpose," she accused watched the other edge of his lips twitch upward as well. He caught the shirt on reflex and used it to wipe his face. A single bead of sweat escaped the collection and slid down the long column of his throat.

"What?" he asked calmly. "Trying not to overheat?"

"Yes! No – you – "

The pale brow jerked again and the blue eyes were laughing. Part of the game they were playing though was that you weren't allowed to call the other person on it when they were flirting with you. You were supposed to act unaware. She shot him a narrow look and he just innocently tilted his head to the side.

She thought he had the nicest throat and it melted down into the smoothest, strongest set of shoulders…

With a stifled noise in her throat she spun around and started to load the washing machine.

"You're a terrible man," she told him and he hummed his agreement, sounding pleased and amused. She concentrated on the clothes, separating lights and darks and checking both the children's and Cloud's pants pockets before committing them to the wash. She was not going to drool. She was not. He was cheating again and she was not going to give in first.

That… that – man!

That… very handsome, stunning, well built, shirtless and sweaty man who was only a few feet away from her…

An muscled arm reached past her and she jumped, swallowing down a hiccuping noise. So intent on ignoring him that he'd come up right behind her and she'd missed it. His throaty chuckle near her shoulder was devastating.

"What are you doing?" she didn't dare turn around, she was already far too aware of exactly what – and who – and in what state – was standing directly behind her.

"Returning my shirt," he answered helpfully as he set it in the pile of whites she'd had on the top of the dryer as part of her sorting. She could smell him, that pleasant smell of sweat and Fenrir and lightening wind and male.

"That's dark…" she managed and he made a humming noise as if he was actually interested. She swallowed against a dry throat. He was so close she could feel the heat of him but somehow, maddeningly, he wasn't actually touching her. She cleared her throat and tried again. "The shirt. It goes in the dark pile."

He made another humming noise to show he was listening and taking her words to heart and she thought she felt the puffed exhale of his breath against her throat, tickling through the hair she'd pulled back in a ponytail for work. His other hand found the dryer on the other side of her and braced there, strong, long fingered hands sporting nicks and oil stains.

"We should probably put it there," he offered, voice dark honey, shifting as if he was moving his face – his nose, she knew he was inhaling the scent of her hair because he did it when he thought she wasn't paying attention sometimes.

"Mm," she agreed helplessly, her own hands shifting to brace against the dryer as well but it was for support. Oh, Gaia… the man was being feral…

"Teef," his gravel voice was amused. "It's in the white pile. My hands are covered in grease."

She made a little sound in her throat that had been intended to indicate understanding and instead came out a little like a squeak. In response to the noise, his arms on either side of her shifted inward and she felt the press of his body against hers. Nice, good smelling, hot, hard, male Cloud body –

His hands found their way to the skin of her stomach where the shirt she was wearing left it exposed and dragged as they wrapped around her. She felt him bury his face in her hair and realized, in shock, that his breathing wasn't steady.

"Cloud…" his name came out soft and wrapping in the things he did to her and she heard him exhale a pleased sound against her. His fingers, slick with oil, rubbed gentle circles over her bare skin and then tightened, indicating need and restraint. His voice was quiet as he said:

"Not until you ask."

The only reason she was still standing, and not a puddle of jelly on the floor, was the fact that he had her pinned between himself and the washing machine. She forgot why she was supposed to be ignoring him.

"Cloud?"

Again the amusement sounded in his throat even if it didn't make it past his lips. Lips that he lowered to rub against her bare shoulder.

"Tifa…" the way he said her name held absolute adoration and a surprising tinge of gentle frustration. His arms went around her completely and pulled her entirely back into the curve of his body. "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that I'm waiting – for you?"

"Me?" it came out weakly, repeating from habit the last word said whenever her mind needed time to catch up to what was going on. His chin found her shoulder and he rested the side of his face against hers, closing his eyes. For some reason it was just as devastating as his hands earlier had been on her skin except this time…

this time it was her aching heart that was threatened.

"You," he agreed easily. "Since I was about six."

She tilted her chin, just a little, and looked at him from the sides of her eyes.

"For?" she prompted softly and his lips smiled, just a little. He opened his eyes.

"For you to notice me. And then for you to love me." His lips twitched. "Then for you to realize you loved me." He exhaled. "And then for you to realize I loved you."

They weren't talkers, either of them. They were much better at showing each other what they felt than explaining it. But his brows were a little down and his eyes were dark. He'd apparently given this a great deal of thought. Reaching up she rested her arms over his, hugging him to her. She turned her face to nudge him gently with her nose, burying his revelations deep in her heart where she knew she would listen to them over and over and over again. He'd said though…

"What are we waiting for now?" she asked him softly. He made a low sound in his throat in answer and his hands shifted to find hers, fingers intertwining.

"For you to realize I've always loved you and it never changed." His blue eyes lifted and found hers and they were the color of the mountain sky on a clear morning. One edge of his mouth lifted. "And for you to ask me to kiss you."

Her heart stumbled over the first but what popped out of her mouth was the second.

"I have to ask?"

"Mm," his brows were down as he nodded seriously, even if his eyes were amused. His fingers moved against her skin, making hers do so as well since they were twined so tightly with his. Throaty voice an exhale against her cheek, he thoughtfully added: "Soon would be good too."

"Cloud – " she protested it. It was one thing entirely to play and flirt and tease… and even, in a safe way, seduce. It was another entirely to just come out and state what she wanted. She wasn't – she'd never been able to do that. And somehow, she realized he knew that too. Wrapped safe in the warmth of his arms it was easier to face… but actually doing so was entirely different.

"Not until you ask," he murmured against her shoulder as he lowered his head. The bare skin there got a soft kiss despite his words but then he straightened and let go of her, keeping one of her hands in his.

"Come on," he tugged her hand, "help me with Fenrir."

He was giving her space without leaving her. Letting her adjust and absorb without crowding her for an answer. He was being sweet and patient with her.

He was being gentle.

She refused to move and it pulled him to a stop since she refused to let go of his hand too. He paused and looked back at her with his breathtaking body and the soul hiding inside it that was even more breathtaking to her. Both parts of him were scarred. But it was okay. She was scarred too. His eyes were accepting but not expectant.

"Could you – " it caught in her throat and she looked down. Struggling. Soft, his voice found her.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes!" her eyes jumped to his, hurt he would even ask. And yet… there was something about the question…

"Then ask me."

Did she trust him? Really trust him? With more than the simple things, with the complicated things too? With… her? After all these years, after all they'd been through, after all they'd both done to each other… did she trust him?

"Kiss me?"

It came out weak and helpless and lost, but her eyes found his and there was hope there too. Something in his own eyes seemed to relax as well and it was something that never had before. He stepped back to her.

"Yes," he exhaled against her lips. She had a second to shiver at the way that felt… and at what she'd just stepped forward into, and then his mouth was slipping over hers.

It was soft and sweet and lingering. Something inside her sighed out and she swayed forward into him with a quiet sound. A low hum answered in his throat and his arms came around her, tucking her protectively in against his chest, in the shelter of his arms. As if they had all the time in the world, his lips nuzzled against hers, slowly luring her deeper. She was surrounded by the scent of him, the heat of him, the solid strength of him. She was surprised to find that, as the hot oil started to settle into her bones and joints, a strange sense of peace settled into her heart at the same time that felt the same way. His lips shifted and she followed, feeling him smile without breaking the kiss as the move sealed them closer together. When he finally drew back, just enough so that their noses bushed each others, she was warm and liquid and wonderful and she didn't open her eyes.

"Again?" she asked in a whisper and heard his chuckle before his lips found hers again.