Disclaimer: FFVII isn't mine. Everyone knows that.
Sakura-Angel: LAME TITLE ALERT. Okay, so it's not my best. Extremely short (what's new?) and I wrote it at night, in bed, as usual. A couple lines just popped into my head and the story wrote itself after that really. It's how it works with me. So, I figured I'd do a different sort of Reno x Tifa this time around...
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she veered dangerously around the coffee table, only to be followed by an equally angry redhead.
"God! Why do you have to make things so hard?"
She spun around to face him, standing across the table from the hard glint in his eyes and his furrowed brow.
"I am not! You are the one who's making things hard!" she stabbed the air in front of him with an accusing finger.
"Teef! I just want an explaination!"
"Reno, I told you already!"
"That you think we're not going anywhere? That you think we don't work together? God, Tifa, that is such bullshit!"
Her eyes flashed and jaw dropped, the expression on her face nearing disgust. "Reno, if you can't take that as an explaination, I don't know what else to say to you. Just leave, please."
His mouth was set in a firm line and he crossed his arms, refusing to comply with her request. "What do you want then?"
She looked away briefly and breathed out heavily, swallowed and settled her gaze on him again. "What do I want?" she said in a voice that made it seem like she was thinking it over, and said again, more forcefully, "What do I want?" She took two unconscious steps forward and whipped her head around, hair cutting the air. "I want someone who hasn't tried to kill me repeatedly!" She made her way around the table slowly, menacingly, with the intent of a cat ready to pounce. "I want someone who hasn't slept with every single woman on the planet!"
His jade eyes suddenly became hollow. 'Does she really think that?'
"I want someone who can't fire a gun straight!" She was in front of him now, him and his hollow eyes. And at the sight of hm standing there sad and disappointed, everything about her suddenly went soft. Her eyes, the contours of her face, her voice.
"I want someone who'll be there in the morning."
Neither said anything for a long time. And when the silence got to be too much, she looked up at him with watery eyes, hoping that they wouldn't spill.
In response, he bent down a little and brushed his lips against her forehead. He walked past her briskly, grabbing his coat along the way to the exit. And when his hand was on the doorknob and her last chance had appeared, along with wet streaks on her cheeks, he said "I'm sorry," and that was that - his last goodbye.