To Know You
Chapter Four: Tequila and Tango
By Darknightdestiny
It mattered not why he had decided to attend the reunion dressed in full formal attire. The question that really mattered was why he had bothered to go in the first place, not why he was wearing what he wore. After all, this was Vincent Valentine, and Vincent Valentine always made sure to do the proper thing.
Vincent sat at the bar, watching the dull red liquid in his glass sit stagnant, catching the wandering lights of the dance floor. Every once in a while, a glaring beacon would shine through to the spot where they were settled, and his eyes would catch the flecks of dust floating in the air about the brilliantly varnished countertop.
Why had he gone in the first place? It made no sense. He was sure that no one wished to see him, and that it was improper for him to show himself when he'd denied contact with the rest of the group ever since the end of their mission. It was as if he'd shrugged them off like they'd never mattered at all, like he was only using them to get to Hojo. But he did stay with them until the very end. Something had kept him there, but to them, it might have been his own need for closure. Maybe it was. When all was said and done, and Sephiroth had been defeated, he'd simply left them and disappeared, thinking that everything would go back to the way it was before.
And it did. He still felt empty deep down inside.
"Vincent," Tifa's soft but determined and hopeful voice came to him. "Why did you come here if you didn't want to see us?"
Vincent lifted his head a little and faced forward, looking past all of the poisons set before the patrons. Behind them was a mirror, but he was not looking at his own reflection; he'd learned a long time ago that if he stared at himself for too long in the mirror, that he would become rapidly unstable. Instead, he watched the scene behind him from his view in the mirror, watched as the guests intertwined in dance, lacing intricate patterns on the floor. The music played softly but steadily in the background, and he let it all just fade into the back of his mind.
As Vincent stared into the abyss of oblivion, his wish to push everything away was halted by the distraction of that one, simple question. Why?
"Vincent, why?" Tifa asked again, taking the seat next to him. Her eyes were full of concern, and her brow creased with worry as she tried to dissect all the possible thoughts that could be running through his mind. Did he actually miss them? Was it possible that in some way, he had grown attached to them, that the cold and quiet, lone wolf of the pack had wanted some company?
Vincent sighed quietly and set his glass down on the bar counter with a soft clinking sound. He shifted around in his seat until he was facing Tifa eye to eye. She shifted a bit under his gaze, but she calmed down soon after, her heart returning to its normal pace. She never had gotten used to the way his eyes glinted in the shadows, but somewhere down the line it had grown on her, and it had become more comforting than awkward.
Vincent took a breath, then hesitated, seemingly in deep concentration. "...Tifa...how have you been?"
It was a simple question, but it didn't afford her any answers. "I've been fine, Vincent. I've just been a little worried. But that still doesn't answer my question, you know," she replied, in a tone which suggested that she already knew he wasn't going to give her a straight answer.
How wrong she was.
Vincent began again, albeit a bit more slowly. "It should." Soft and unwavering, not worried in the least about her reaction. Or so it came across to her.
Tifa's face turned to one of puzzlement. She shook her head slowly and answered, "I'm not sure I understand."
Vincent closed his eyes and a smile, though a very small one, graced his face. When he opened his eyes, he was staring straight into Tifa's. "...It has been a long time since I have had a person enter my life that I would consider to be a friend. I suppose I would have had to come sooner or later. I...wanted to see how you were."
"Vincent!" Tifa exploded in a hushed voice, lest everyone in the room overhear. "You could have done that anytime! You said yourself you knew where I was..."
"I did not want you to think I had abandoned you."
"By not coming to see me?" she replied, in another tone which this time suggested that it was the obvious answer. Vincent was effectively silenced. "See? I've got you there." Tifa held her finger up, leveled with Vincent's face. "You should have come to see me. What if I'd been in trouble?" she teased.
Vincent's face fell. Tifa was shocked at his reaction, and hadn't even stopped to think how her joking remark might have seriously affected him. Vincent had been known to take the blame of any tragedy on himself, if there was any possible way he could have prevented it.
"...Vincent, I didn't mean it like that," Tifa whispered, and she reached out and lightly touched his arm.
"Perhaps not," he replied, "But you are correct. I often wondered if you were all right."
"Then why didn't you come to see me?"
Vincent was silent for a while, choosing his words carefully. "...I dislike seeing disappointment in your face."
"Vincent, you never disappoint me."
"...And now?"
Tifa smiled at him, her eyes twinkling like those of a child who has just received the best present in the world. All she said was, "You came back."
Vincent blinked at her, at a loss for words. His face took on an expression of shock, however, when she lunged at him and wrapped her arms around him for the second time that night. The look quickly faded, but his face retained a sense of awkward discomfort.
"I missed you so much," she said, holding on to him tightly as her eyes followed the feet of the dancers on the floor. "I can finally relax, knowing that you're okay."
Vincent raised an eyebrow and looked down at the young woman that had instantly made herself so comfortable in his arms. "...You were truly worried?" She nodded, and he let out another sigh. "There is no need to worry about me."
Tifa's head snapped up. "What, now you're not good enough for my worries?" Vincent suddenly looked like he knew he'd made a mistake by voicing that aloud. "Vincent, don't even think about insinuating that I don't know what I'm doing by caring about what happens to you."
Vincent gave up and let her stay where she was for a while, but the silence eventually became odd to the both of them, and so he pulled away ever so slightly. She followed suit, and she was sitting straight up in her chair once again in no time. Vincent turned back to the bar, and picked up his glass, swirling the deep red wine around in it, Tifa watching anxiously.
"...Will you come back with me?"
Vincent contemplated answering Tifa's question for a bit. Should he go? Would the others be as interested in seeing him as she had been? He'd been more inclined to trust Tifa to be accepting of him than he had the others, simply because she'd been so accepting in the past. He hadn't felt that he deserved any of it, but she'd been so warm and inviting to him, he had given up after he realized her hopes wouldn't be put out.
Before he'd had a chance to make up his mind, a certain young girl made an appearance at the bar.
"Tifa, oh my gawsh, you have got to come and see this guy!!" the ninja squealed, bouncing around in front of her. Tifa quickly glanced over at Vincent, who was still staring at his glass, his face obscured in the shadows of the room. Needless to say, Yuffie hadn't noticed him. Tifa pretended like nothing had happened and turned back to Yuffie.
"Why do I want to see him?"
"Because," Yuffie whined, "you've got to dance with him!"
Tifa stared back at Yuffie, not wanting to comply at all. "I really don't think-"
"Tifa, you're not going to make me look like an ass, are you?" Yuffie reprimanded. Unbeknownst to the two girls, Vincent was smirking.
"Yuffie...I don't want to dance with a stranger..."
"But he's gorgeous!" Yuffie interrupted. "And..." her voice dropped, "they're gonna play a tango." Yuffie threw a draw into that last word and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Tifa blinked back at Yuffie, before replying, "Now I really don't want to dance with him."
"Tifa, you're going to look like a snob if you stand there and don't dance with him when the music starts!" Yuffie waved her hands in the air.
Tifa shrugged. "What is there to say? I can't do that...it'd be creepy."
Yuffie's mouth dropped open. Vincent smiled inside at hearing Tifa use the word "creepy" to describe another person, since she was always so kind to everyone she met. Yuffie stared her down in shock, disbelieving that Tifa would leave her hanging like that. "I can't believe you're just going to let me look like an idiot! I told him you would!"
Tifa eyed her with a smug look, as if she knew she was teaching her a lesson. "You didn't ask me first, Yuffie."
The ninja threw up her arms. "I give up!" she huffed, and stormed off.
Now, Tifa Lockheart had never been the kind of person who would leave a friend hanging. Tifa never thought herself a snob, and she was always open to trying new things, so when Yuffie stormed off in a hurry, something was shaken up a bit, deep down inside of her. She turned back to Vincent.
Vincent remained intent on watching his glass and not getting caught up in Yuffie's immediate tribulation of the day. Tifa watched him for a minute, and then cleared her throat. He raised his head up a bit, and looked at her with the most blank expression he could muster, regardless of all the things he had just heard.
"So..." she started, "way to slink back into the shadows when Yuffie showed up."
Vincent, still trying not to show a smile, replied with a most composed exterior, "Do you think it wise to let her be the first I talk to?"
Tifa mocked an expression of deep thought, knowing she was beaten. "So maybe you're right."
He nodded once.
"So..."
Vincent was silent.
"What do you think I should do?" she finally asked.
Vincent's lack of expression turned to one of slightly visible amusement. "Do you feel badly for him?"
"No!" she replied, all too quickly. "Well...maybe. But it's just...weird." She looked across the room and saw Yuffie standing with two men, the ninja girl waving back at her. Both of the men winked at her slyly. Tifa turned around quickly, not wanting to be tempted to wave back out of mere politeness. "...I really don't want to do this," she breathed out in a panic.
"You do not have to do anything you do not wish to," Vincent mused aloud, as calmly and as quietly as ever. Tifa was convinced that there was no way he could possibly understand the sudden stressfulness of her situation.
"It looks like I do," she sighed, half moaning.
"...May I ask why?"
"Well what am I supposed to do? Make up an excuse? Lie? Just come out and tell him I think it's creepy? Vincent, I haven't had quite enough liquor to just go and make a fool out of myself with a stranger."
Vincent decided it was as good a time as any to voice a sudden question that popped into his head. "...How much have you had?" he asked idly.
"None," she replied, "and anyways, what else is there to do? Find someone and ask him to pretend he's my boyfriend? I don't think that's-"
"You have put much thought into this already, I can see." Tifa eyed Vincent out of the corner of her eye as he stopped her in the middle of her rambling, and she could see a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
She glared in his direction, mocking anger and frustration. "You think this is funny." Perhaps the frustration wasn't a total mockery, but it wasn't directed towards him.
"I find it trivial. That is all."
Tifa stood in silence, watching him as his red eyes bore into hers. He wasn't making fun of her, she realized. He clearly did find it a trivial matter, and he didn't view it to be a life-threatening situation if Tifa decided to let one stranger have one dance. But he didn't realize how things were with Tifa! She had always been a kind person to everyone she met, and if the man asked her for contact information, that could lead to weeks of dating, all because she felt guilted into it. To Tifa, hurting someone's feelings was the worst thing she could do.
To Vincent, if Tifa decided to let this man have just one dance, she'd be doing him a favor. Of course, Vincent wasn't thinking of this at the moment. If someone had asked him, however, he couldn't deny that. He knew what a wonderful person she was, and that she also wasn't just a spectacle to be passed around, even though he did think she was beautiful. But many people thought she was beautiful, and so he didn't think much of it at the time. However, something about her stood out to him. She wasn't like most women that could be found in large supply at dances and bars; she was real with her friends, she had a genuine personality, and she didn't fake her way through a conversation. Yes, even when she was only trying to spare someone's feelings, she would find a loophole somewhere in the conversation, because another thing that Tifa refused to do was lie. How he admired that.
And yet somehow, she always seemed to get herself into situations like the one she was in.
Tifa grasped for words, but she couldn't find anything to counter his blunt statement. Did this mean he thought she made a big deal out of nothing? In this case, he thought she was, but he wasn't thinking of all the implications it held for her, since she was already thinking ahead, being wary of all the trouble it could make for her at the end of the night. Just then, another worry entered Tifa's mind, and that was the worry that one of her friends might not think as much of her as she thought he did.
Sometimes Tifa needed someone to listen, not someone to cut her off with a simple answer. But that was how Vincent always was. He either acted, or he offered a course of action. He never sat down and talked about everything in depth, unless it was something that seemed important to him.
She wished that she could just shrug the inevitable off and stay at the bar, talking to Vincent about something that did matter to him. She still had so many questions, and she didn't know how long he would be staying in the city, or if he would want to open up to her like he did those few times back then. If that night was all she had, she wanted to make the most of it. If he was just going to leave again, she wanted to ask everything that had been eating at her, and she wanted to get to know him as best she could in the small time frame she did have.
But he'd stayed after he found out she was living there, hadn't he? Would he have any reason to leave again? What made him decide on Junon anyway? What were his reasons for staying? There was a part of Tifa that just wouldn't let go of the fear that she would lose her friend forever. She'd been so grieved before, and she didn't ever want to go through that again.
She sighed and let her eyes fall onto the shining glass that he'd laid his hand next to. "I guess you're right." Vincent's eyes followed hers, and he detected a hint of rejection and apology in her voice. He wondered if perhaps she thought he viewed her as silly. She sounded so disappointed at the reply he'd given her, but he didn't think her silly at all. She was still young, and she was still on her way to developing into the person she was going to be for the rest of her life. In all the time he'd known her, Vincent viewed Tifa as a caring individual who usually let herself be taken advantage of, because she was so confused in her feelings, and she always went by whatever they were telling her at the moment when she made decisions.
It was no wonder she was so hesitant to do something so simple, that didn't even have to mean anything. It was actually kind of endearing, seeing her so meaningful but helpless in the situation.
Tifa watched the happenings at the bar for a few moments. The bar hostess, an adorable short woman who stood up on a stool behind the counter and leaned over the surface on her elbows in order to be heard over the commotion, was happily pouring tequila shots for her customers. "I think..." Tifa started, "that we'd better move somewhere else before these guys get a little too rowdy. What do you think?"
Vincent opened his mouth to give a reply, but just as he did, an undeniably bold chord was struck from somewhere on the other side of the room. There was a distant sound of laughter as the chord was repeated, and then the musicians launched into a quick tune-up. Tifa knew what was coming next.
"Oh no...I'm not ready to do this..." she pleaded aloud.
Her frantic bits and pieces of audible panic were interrupted by a soft voice beside her. "...Do you know how?"
Tifa nodded, watching the floor nervously as people began to gather. "I know how, it's just...that dance is very...how should I put this...close?"
"Intimate?"
She nodded again. "I don't want to do that with someone I don't know."
"...It is only a dance, and nothing more."
"But I don't want him to think it could be!" she replied, her facial expression stressing the things she was feeling inside.
"Perhaps," he voiced a sudden thought, "you should find someone to dance with, whom you do not mind telling this to?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dance with someone who knows that it is only a dance. Then you will just be doing each other a favor."
Tifa didn't know what to say. It was true that with her excellent figure and beautiful face, she shouldn't have any trouble finding someone who would just dance with her, knowing full well that it didn't mean anything. But a far as she knew, even if this man knew that it didn't mean anything, and she still wouldn't want to dance with him. It just seemed all too weird to Tifa, doing the tango with a complete stranger.
That familiar chord struck again, and Tifa could only wish that someone would come to save her. She would have gladly taken a return of Meteor, just so she could have an excuse to leave and busy herself with something else. She glanced over at Vincent, who was standing up next to his chair, laying his coat over the back of it. She made a side note that she had been right; he was wearing formal attire. She would remember to pester him about it when she wasn't preoccupied with dodging spur of the moment commitments.
"Vincent, you're not leaving me now, are you?" she half whispered, begging him not to go.
Vincent merely nodded towards the dance floor, Tifa questioning the meaning behind the gesture. Was he telling her to go out there and dance with that stranger? Did he really think it was a good idea? Had he gone insane? Tifa was about to protest, about to whine, about to break down in front of him in a pitiful display of early adult angst.
And then he offered her his hand.
A/N: I apologize if it's all too soon, all too fast. I was listening to Interrupted by Fireworks when I wrote this, so...yeah. A bit sappy.
Anyhow, while you're waiting for the next chapter of Flirting with Death, if you've got extra time on your hands, go read my one-shot, Pretty in Red, if you haven't already. It's uh...different. [smirks]
Now to go and work on my other new one-shot. I'll get it up as soon as I have a title.