Monday
My Shirts Look Good on You
Tifa opened the box, eager to see the letters displayed across the cotton fabric. She removed a shirt, unfolded it, and held it in front of her eyes, smiling at the results of a 200 Gil investment: Angel of Seventh Heaven. Her staff would wear the shirts on Regenesis Day. Her bar was along the parade route, so she would have her girls standing on the porch handing out free coasters and water bottles. They'll look so adorable in the tops. Tifa ordered them specially cropped with ties on the left, just short enough to show a hint of belly.
Yuffie shuffled by with a mop and bucket filled to the brim. "Ugh, Tifa! This thing is so heavy!" the ninja complained, arching her back with a grimace.
"Get one of the guys to help you, Yuffie," Tifa replied as she returned to folding the week's laundry scattered across the table next to her box of shirts.
"They're too busy, they said!" Yuffie whined, pulling the bucket through the kitchen. Water slushed over the wooden floor, making more mess to clean up. "They're staring at Cloud's new bike like star-crossed lovers!"
Tifa exhaled irritably. "Well, try and toss the water out the side door. You can dump it down the steps if you can't lift it."
"Oh, just watch me," Yuffie said, opening the side door and bracing it with a foot. She huffed before hoisting the pail into her arms with tremendous effort. Without looking, she tossed the liquid out the door with a loud "Yeeahh." A satisfied grin spread across her face as the grimy suds soared through the air and into the alley.
Yuffie clapped her hands together and released the door. It stopped mid-swing, caught by a golden gauntlet—one that dripped with sudsy water and glinted in the sunlight shimmering over one Vincent Valentine.
Tifa covered her mouth with her hands in shock. "Vincent!"
He stood in the doorway, sopping wet and glaring at Yuffie's back in feral rage. Yuffie stared at Tifa, eyes as wide as her muscles could stretch them. She dropped the bucket abruptly, not daring to look behind her at the demon summoner she'd just drenched with dirty water and industrial-grade cleaning solution.
"Hi, Vincent—bye Vincent—I'm so sorry—I'll be upstairs writing my last will—please don't kill me—you're my favorite uncle!" she screamed, tearing through the kitchen and up the stairs in a flash.
Vincent cautiously stepped inside as Tifa threw towels onto the floor. "Oh, Vincent. I'm so sorry," she apologized sincerely, handing him a dishtowel to dry himself.
"It's fine, Tifa," he replied, wiping his face before he removed his cape and gauntlet. Tifa took the items from his hand and placed the gauntlet on the table as he began to remove his leather jerkin.
"I'll just get these washed for you," she said, gathering his wet clothes in her hands. "You can use one of those shirts on the table until these are dry."
Tifa walked to the garage with Vincent's soggy clothes tucked into her arms. She shook her head at the sight of Cloud and Barret still mooning over the new bike, just as Yuffie said they were doing. They ignored her as she poured soap over the former Turk's laundry and set the washer.
When she walked back into the kitchen, she again brought her hands up to her face, only this time to smother the giggle that accompanied her shock. Vincent glanced at her with arms spread wide; confusion was written across his usually passive face. He peered into the box, then stared down at his chest emblazoned with the words "Angel of Seventh Heaven."
"Oh, Vincent," Tifa could barely stifle her chuckle. "I meant the other shirts on the table, but um—my shirts look good on you." With her last word, she couldn't contain herself anymore and let out a rib aching laugh at the sight of Vincent's midriff bared beneath the tiny crop top.
Vincent pursed his lips at her mirth, not quite amused at his predicament. "Had I known Yuffie would be here," he began, face returned to an apathetic mask. "I would've camped in the sewers."