A/N: Hope you enjoy this next chapter!
VI.
The next Friday morning, Tifa receives an email from Cloud.
Ms. Lockhart,
Would you be able to change our meeting from 2:00 pm to 4:00 pm? I have an impromptu afternoon meeting with Mr. Tuesti and Mr. Valentine, and I would like to dedicate ample time to go over your progress.
Regards,
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa tries not to perseverate over the words dedicate ample time. She glances at the time on her desktop. 8:03 am. She bites her lip and wonders if he's been thinking about her as much as she's been thinking about him for the past twenty-four hours. She flexes her fingers over her keyboard.
Mr. Strife,
4:00 pm works for me. Will this meeting go past 5:00 pm?
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
I'll do my best to be aware of the time. Do you have any previous engagements this evening?
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa begins to smile.
Mr. Strife,
I have nothing pressing to attend to this evening. As I said before, I will be sure all of our projects are finished by the deadline. I will stay after hours if need be.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
As always, I admire your dedication to your work. I promise I will not take up any more of your time than is absolutely necessary. With that being said, I look forward to meeting with you later today.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa reads over his email, feeling a warmth beginning to spread in her stomach.
Mr. Strife,
Likewise.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
As soon as she sends it, she almost laughs.
By the time noon rolls around, Tifa receives another email. It surprises her that it's from Cloud, again, and she's simultaneously annoyed and excited at the flip in her heart when she sees his name in her inbox.
Ms. Lockhart,
From one workaholic to another, I felt compelled to send this email to remind you that you cannot work at your best without eating. Take five minutes for lunch.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa blinks at his email. She's not sure if she should respond, but the gesture of it shocks her and plucks at her, strumming her heartstrings like a guitar. Who is he? She thinks for the thousandth time. She never thought he'd send a message so…thoughtful and egregiously out of his way. She glances down at her work and realizes she wasn't going to stop for lunch at all.
Mr. Strife,
Thank you for the reminder. It is easy to forget the essentials when wrapped up in work, and I believe you understand that as well as I do. I hope you do the same. Eat something. As the CEO, I believe you might need it more than I do.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
If there is one thing I've learned from being CEO, it is that there is never enough time in a day. The clock conspires against us. Can you teach me how to make the days longer?
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
His rhetorical question makes her chuckle. She grabs her lunch from the break room and types out her answer.
Mr. Strife,
If I knew how to do that, I probably wouldn't be working here. I'd be a millionaire elsewhere.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
Lucky for us then.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa blushes at the email. She scoffs at the words and attempts not to stare at them. After a few minutes, she wants to reply but has no idea how to continue the thread. Eventually, she types the first thing that comes to mind.
Mr. Strife,
You'll be pleased to know I finished my lunch today. I appreciate your reminder and your concern. I was surprised by your email, but I'm happy you sent it.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
Certainly. I can send them more often, if you'd like.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa swallows at the words. They sound oddly…suggestive. But perhaps it's only where her mind lingers. She sighs at herself, thinking of his kiss. Thinking of his cologne.
Mr. Strife,
I wouldn't mind that. It might even be beneficial to me, knowing you care enough to send them.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
Noted. It will be a job I take very seriously.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa has a mind to hear his email in his mildly sarcastic tone. He's probably joking a little, but she can't be sure. Regardless, she blushes either way.
Mr. Strife,
Not too seriously, I hope. You have enough on your plate without needing to worry about me.
Sincerely,
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
I always have room on my plate for you. But you're wrong. I don't worry because I don't think you'd allow it.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa bites her lip at his words. It's strange how a few mere emails can increase the burning up her throat and the swirl of emotions in her stomach, swimming around wildly like kids paddling in the deep end of a pool.
Mr. Strife,
You're right. I don't allow it. But the thought—and the gesture—is very kind.
Thank you.
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
I have a few things to finish before my meetings this afternoon, so I'll discontinue bothering you with these emails. I look forward to our meeting later on today. Bring everything you'd like to discuss.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
She debates replying to him. She types out They don't bother me. Then she decides against it.
Mr. Strife,
I look forward to it, as well. I'll bring each project. I think you'll like how we've begun incorporating the R and S to Mr. Shinra's specifications.
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Ms. Lockhart,
I'm sure I will.
Cloud Strife
Chief Executive Officer
SOLDIER CORP
When Tifa arrives at Cloud's office, she's better prepared for Scarlet's easy onslaught. Her hair is in it's usual severe twist, her bangs softening the edges of her face. "Is it Friday, already?" she asks as she eyes Tifa.
"It is," Tifa answers. "Any big plans for the evening?"
"Not as big as yours, I expect," Scarlet says, her smile as sharp as a scythe. She picks up her phone. "A Miss Lockhart to see you, Mr. Strife."
Tifa nearly blushes at Scarlet's emphasis on the word big. Tifa's hands clench on her tablet, but she doesn't have a comeback ready before Scarlet nods toward the door. "He's ready for you."
Tifa hums her acknowledgement and passes her desk to the office doors. This time she doesn't give an unnecessary knock, opening the doors and walking through.
"Mr. Strife?" she says, making her way to his desk and chairs.
"Tifa," Cloud answers, seated behind his desk. He gestures to the chair she usually takes. "Come in."
Tifa isn't sure what she expected when she arrived. She wasn't sure if it would be a passionate greeting, or more subdued, overshadowed by the required business and discussion their meeting was supposed to address. He watches her make her entrance, and she glances over him as she sits. He's in a grey suit and a dark green button down underneath. He isn't wearing a tie, and the top button is undone. It shows the briefest glimpse of his collarbone. Like before when his tie was absent, he seems incomplete—like he's missing a piece of his armor. The undone button looks like an absurd miscalculation, as if he tugged at his collar all day and finally opened his shirt to breathe. Tifa's eyes hook on it, because even the one button is uncharacteristic.
It's not as if you actually know him, she argues with herself. It is difficult to remember she's only met with him five times.
"How was your meeting?" she asks him, glancing up to make eye contact. He's giving her a small smirk, and she has a mind to think he knows exactly what she's thinking.
"Informative," he says. "We went over the quarterly finances and the predicted trends for the next quarter after the merger."
"Sounds…right up your alley," Tifa states lightly.
"I like to think so," he says, still smirking. He turns towards his computer. "I've pulled up your attachments if you'd like to go over them."
"Of course," she says, opening the files on her tablet. "Which do you want to go over first?"
"Let's start with the main rebranding."
Tifa nods, pulling up the file. "I talked with Reeve—I mean, Mr. Tuesti about this yesterday. He seemed to like the idea of the placement of the R and S being in different areas for each department. We've been making it more subtle and less…"
"Obnoxious?" Cloud finishes. Tifa glances up to see him smiling, though it's directed at his monitor.
"Yes…obnoxious. Do you think it's too…vague?" she asks. "We started using the negative space for the shadow of the R and S, but you have to stare at it for a moment to see it."
Cloud tilts his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I like subtle. I'll send it to Rufus and see what he thinks, but this might be an important exercise in compromising for him."
Tifa begins smiling as Cloud glances over to her. Her smile inspires one of his own. "What?"
"Nothing," she says, shaking her head. "You just…really don't like him, do you?"
Cloud gives a small shrug. "He's fine. I'll never get along with him, but I don't get along with most, anyway."
Tina twirls her electronic pen between her fingers. "Why not?"
He opens his mouth, but he hesitates. "Never have, that's all. Uh, so the main rebranding," he starts, redirecting the conversation. "Keep it and finish what you wanted. Once you do, I'll send it to Rufus. I'll keep you in the loop with his response."
"Great. Thank you," she answers. "Maybe he won't be so disagreeable."
"Maybe," he hedges, sounding very skeptical.
"You never know," Tifa says, beginning to smile again. "He might surprise you. People tend to do that."
Cloud watches her for a moment. She almost starts to blush, attempting to will it away under his stare. "Sometimes."
They look at one another for a quiet minute. It is free and unrestrained, and it makes Tifa sit up straighter in her chair. She's emboldened to glance down at his unbuttoned collar again, glimpsing at the golden divot of skin against the forest green of his shirt.
Tifa takes in a breath and glances down at her tablet. "So, the next thing…"
Cloud clears his throat. "Right. The next thing."
They go over five other logos and signs, Tifa explaining the idea behind each one, how the team members were faring, and the projected timeline, along with the positioning of the essential R and S around each design.
This time, Cloud critiques the engineering department's design, suggesting harsher lines and sharper edges. Tifa writes it into her annotations, along with darker colors and brighter accents.
"I believe I promised earlier I wouldn't keep you any longer than necessary, this time," Cloud says once they finish the last project. "It's 5:00."
Tifa bites the inner meat of her lip. "I told you I'd stay as long as necessary to cover everything we required."
"And I…appreciate that," Cloud says softly, watching her again. Tifa takes a deep breath. Cloud clicks something on his computer and goes to stand. Tifa does the same.
"If you'd like to stay a little longer," he says, walking around to the front of his desk. "I'd, uh, like to go over a few more things."
Tifa almost smiles, but the flutter of sudden nerves and heat grips her stomach. "What few things are those, Mr. Strife?"
He wavers before he settles against the edge of his desk. "It's…after hours, Tifa. Call me Cloud."
Cloud. The only time she's called him by his first name was in her dream of him. Her cheeks flare immediately at the thought of it.
"Okay…Cloud."
It feels like insubordination, somehow. Tifa calls everyone else by their first names, so this shouldn't be any different. But who can say they call their boss, their boss's boss, by their first name? It feels like a sin as soon as it passes her lips. It feels like she's breaking a penultimate rule. Her heart beats with a ponderous rhythm, and his eyes are on her mouth like fish trapped in a net. She sees the strong column of his throat bob in a swallow before he jerks his eyes away.
"If you give me a moment," he says gruffly, pushing off his desk and striding to the door. He turns the lock. Tifa breathes out a laugh, but it sounds like a strangled gasp to her ears. When he makes his way back to her, he shakes his head. "Don't want that to happen, again. I barely survived yesterday."
The growl of his admittance makes her toes curl in her heels. He stops right in front of where she stands, and his cologne drills into her nostrils.
"Me, too," she whispers. She slowly reaches up and lets her palms rest on his shoulders. At the contact, she realizes how taut he is, strung up like a bow. He allows his hands to rest on her hips.
"You haven't changed your mind?" he asks her.
She stares up into his face, shocked at how gentle he is, the only sharp thing about him the line of his jaw and the grumble of his voice. There is a surprise every time she sees him, unraveling each hidden box, shredding the paper that shelters him.
"No," she answers, voice shuddering. One of her hands slips down from his shoulder to his chest. Her finger taps the button underneath his collar, and she feels the expansion of his breath.
"Good," he says, gripping her hips tighter. He pulls her closer into a kiss, meshing their lips together easily. She brings her hands behind his neck, tugging at the soft, wild locks of his hair. She moans as her breasts push against the robust expanse of his front. His hand squeezes her hip and then falls to her ass, cupping her with generous palmfuls, and Tifa moans at the sensation. When he pushes her closer, she can already feel him, hard and lengthy and willing. It is a pleasure. She's never felt him before like this, and her heart is sprinting, pounding between her legs like a hammer. This is insane, she thinks. Insane and wonderful.
Their kiss turns into a tangle, messy and slick, and Tifa hears herself pant. Cloud's groan is guttural as he turns her toward the desk. Her nails dig into the nape of his neck for dear life, and he bites her lip softly, contradicting the harshness of his growl and the deep press of his fingertips into her bottom.
When the backs of her legs hit the desk, his lips trail down to her neck. His teeth run along the line of her skin, and she's nearly embarrassed by the moan that comes out of her, because it's so loud and free, unthinking and unexpected. Her head lolls to the side, and his tongue roves over the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She feels the wet heat of his mouth, and she wants it all over her body—on her breasts, on her stomach, on her hip, right along the seam of her thighs.
"Cloud," she inhales sharply, his name coming out in a gasp. His grip on her tightens, and he pushes her further back onto the desk. His hands bunch up the bottom of her pencil skirt.
"Do you know how much I want you?" he asks her, and he kisses her again, his fingers finding the fine net of her stockings, tugging them down. Tifa can feel him pulling at the threads and wonders if they're ruined. I have so many others, she thinks, uncaring. The thought of them ripping gives her a jolt of immense satisfaction.
She opens her eyes to watch him, his lips inches from her own. She runs her fingers through his hair, clawing at his scalp, and his eyes become half-lidded.
"How much?"
He pushes his hands up her thighs, letting them roam over her bared skin, past the skirt and to the thin line of her underwear. She realizes how desperately she's aching when his fingers press into her hips, when his thumbs hook under the band.
"Let me show you," he says under his breath. The words ricochet into her mind. They stab into her skin.
They are the words from her dream. Let me show you. Had her dream been a premonition? She thinks wildly. She can't fathom it. She can't believe he uttered those words. Her tender flesh zings, and as he pulls down her underwear, he's watching her with dark blue eyes. Her heart is in her throat while she stares back. He slides them down to where her stockings hang on her legs and then off her legs completely—and she sees her stockings are ruined. A handful of threads dangle around her calves. He takes no time when he rubs a thumb along her wet skin, pushing into the middle of her folds. She leans all the way back at the sensation, moaning and moaning. "Oh. Oh."
He begins a continuous pace against her, his thumb an unyielding pressure, and her back arches. One hand clenches at his hair and the other tries to find purchase on his desk. The computer is on the far right side of the desk, but she doesn't notice anything else. Her eyes close. She hits something that falls to the floor with a thunk. Her face pinches, and she hears herself say, "Oh, I'm sorry," while her left leg bends up and her heeled foot finds the ledge of the table. Any other time, she'd be embarrassed. She might be ashamed by how she's allowing herself to be so sprawled in front of him, at his mercy. But his passion incites her. It inspires her. She feels too good to care, and he's hitting her so well, as if he already knows her body, as if he's already figured everything out.
"You'll need to reimburse me for that," he states, his voice raspy, edged, and different. She opens her eyes to look at him, and he's staring at her with his lips shining from their kisses, his eyes peeling her apart like a piece of fruit. A flush is creeping up his neck, and he is just as crazed as she is. It jolts her again, and she feels herself clench against his thumb. It unrelentingly caresses her, and the air in her feels thick and heavy. It's better than the sensation of unzipping her, she thinks. It feels like he's ripping her like the stocking, and she whispers, "Cloud, please."
"Please, what?" he says, and she sees how his eyes gleam with power. It's a knife to her stomach, and she can't come, now. She can't, not yet, not when it just started.
Not yet.
None of this was supposed to happen, and because of that, it is so much more.
She reaches a hand for his pant belt. She misses, and he slides a finger into her when she does. "Oh," she moans, again, spots floating in her vision. "Come here. I…you…"
"You're so wet," he says, and he leans over to kiss her throat. "So tight." He pushes his finger up and forward inside of her, and the spots he's hitting are disastrous. She seizes deeply.
"Gaia," she whimpers. "Cloud."
She pushes off his suit jacket with clumsy force, and it falls off one arm. Her hands shake as she tries to unbutton the elusive buttons on his shirt. She groans in both frustration and pleasure, and she sees him smile at her, and it makes her clench again. Giving up on the buttons for a moment, she pulls him forward into a kiss, then kissing his jaw and his neck, anywhere she can reach.
He strokes her longer and harder before he takes his fingers away, and she almost whines in protest. He quickly unzips the side of her skirt and lifts her bottom up, so much more precise than the previous day. He peels the piece off her and throws it to the side in a manic rush. The stockings stay bunched at her calves. Tifa would have smiled had she not been feeling the same sense of urgency. She attempts to unbuckle his belt, and he watches her as she does, his chest expanding with labored breaths while he peels off the rest of his jacket. It takes her two tries to unbutton his pants, and one quick pull to undo his zipper. She tugs at his shirt. "Take it off," she says, voice high in delicate anguish. He does as he's told, all but pulling his shirt apart, forgoing individually undoing each button. Tifa presses her palm into his skin as soon as it's visible, gasping as she drags her fingers over him. When she does, he leans forward to undo her own buttons, and Tifa's mind goes red. There are too many buttons, she thinks. As soon as enough of them are done, she pulls the rest of the shirt over her head and throws it to find her skirt. He stares at her, eyes falling to her breasts, eyes dark and full of nothing but glazed over desire—it is so potent, Tifa nearly gasps at the intensity, as sharp as icicles but as molten as melting glass.
"I have condoms in my desk," he states, suddenly, and Tifa almost moans again at the responsibility. Can he be anymore…anymore…attractive?
"Don't need it," she breathes, leaning forward to kiss him, roaming her hands along his torso and reaching toward his waistline. "Birth control."
He huffs when she finds him, gripping his length in her hand. He reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. Her skin is so heated, she doesn't feel the chill of the desk as he goes to stand between her legs, pushing her down until she's lying back across the wood. She hears him shove his slacks down, and she props herself on her elbows to try to see him in all of his aroused glory, but he hovers over her and shrouds her vision.
"Wait, Cloud—" she protests, but he reaches down between them, and he pushes his head against her clit. He rubs so gently and deliberately, Tifa is unable to keep her weight in her elbows, fully laying all the way back and grasping at the wood of the desk above her head. Cloud hisses, teasing their skin together for another arduous minute, and Tifa sees stars. It is just like a kiss—the smallest contact of skin creating the most powerful bliss.
He slides down and readies himself before her, wrapping his arms around her thighs like handholds. When he pushes into her, the pressure is splendid and welcome. It is such an easy thing, and he keeps pushing and pushing until he's touching her in that divine portion of her body. He's big, she thinks nonsensically. This is amazing.
"Fuck," he grunts, the word quiet. It sounds like a confession ripping through the air. Tifa moans in response, welcoming him with deep clenching. He grunts lowly and briefly at the sensation, and she watches how his jaw tightens, the muscle bunching. He starts slow with his thrusts, his fingers digging into the sides of her thighs. Again and again and again, the slowness a desperate incline, a building ache. One of her hands reaches up to her head, tangling into her hair and imagining it in his own, because he's too far away from her to grip. His eyes are glazing over, watching her expression as she watches his. She bites her lip so hard at the severity of his stare, and his pace begins quickening. Her nails press into the finish of the desk, her other hand falling to her breasts. She's burning up. This is the slowest implosion she's ever experienced.
"Oh—I'm—oh," she mutters unintelligibly. She can't stop watching him. The afternoon light glances off his blond spikes like a golden halo. She sees the sheen of sweat glowing on his brow while it's pinched in concentration. His chest flexes with his thrusts. He's handsome.
He shifts his grip, moving her calves to rest on his shoulders, his hands gripping her hips. He leverages her up, and at the incline—how can he get any deeper? She cries out. He presses into her, harder and harder, and her moans become freer. Her pants are louder. She wants to scream, but she claws at the desk, needing all of him, wanting to run her hands over his rippling chest and his biceps, all of him bare and taut, creasing from the pleasure created between them.
"Cloud," she whimpers.
"Goddamn," he says, hoarse, his voice breaking. Her closeness rises exponentially at the sound of it. "Shit—Tifa."
His vulgarity is unrestrained and vulnerable. It hits a switch inside her that increases her blood pressure, and she's going to unravel.
"I''m—I—" she tries, and she must shut her eyes because it's becoming too much.
"What do you need?" he asks roughly.
"This," she answers. "This is it."
She feels one of his hands leave her hip, and she opens her eye to see him lick a finger. He keeps up the pace, and then he pushes that finger along her clit, the bundle of nerves in shock at the tension. She presses her legs harder into his shoulders, and she keens. "Yes," she breathes. "That. Oh, Cloud."
It only takes a few more thrusts until she's thrown over. It hits her suddenly, like a windshield cracking under a change in pressure. The crack turns into a shatter, and her heels dig into his shoulders, her back arching uncontrollably. Her hands grip along anything she can reach, and she finds the neck of the computer monitor and the blunt edges of the desk.
She rides out her orgasm with the last few thrusts he gives her. She feels his hips tremble against her, and her calves begin to lose the tension and the force against his shoulders.
They remain there, in the afterglow of heavy breathing and relief, for a long, dazed few minutes. She feels Cloud leave her, and she lowers her legs from his shoulders. He continues to stand between her legs, and he leans over her and kisses her. It is slow and long and unassuming, and Tifa begins to feel the relief of their orgasm becoming restless, again, like the rustling of wind in a forest. When they break away, he looks down on her with the soft gaze of release. She reaches up to outline his jaw with her fingers.
"Let's do this more often," he says, voice a crackly rumble.
"Okay," she says back, body limp and mind fuzzy. He stands and helps her up from the desk, and they're standing beside one another, almost completely naked. A flush rushes up to Tifa's face, but she doesn't care, instead allowing her eyes to rove over him. She has a mind to think he blushes underneath her unabashed observation, but it might be from their previous exertions.
"I have a bathroom…if you'd like to…" he starts.
"Yes," she says, aware of the stickiness growing between her legs. "I'll use it. Thank you."
"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he mumbles, walking around to help gather her clothes. "Um, I'm sorry about…" he gestures to the stockings, still torn up around her ankles. She laughs lightly.
"Don't worry. I have plenty."
His strange bashfulness suddenly evaporates, and he gives her a smirk. "Be careful. I might rip all of them."
She gives him a playful smile. "Why? Do you not like them?"
"No, I like them," he says, and Tifa raises her brows at how quickly he says it. Sheepishly, he turns his head. "I mean, how you wear them…they look good."
"Oh," she says softly. "Then I guess I'll keep wearing them during our meetings."
His cheeks redden furiously, though he smiles at her. "I hope you do."
She presses her skirt and shirt against her chest, but she lets her eyes linger on his naked form. She breathes out a sigh and turns toward the bathroom.
"You'll have to wait and see."
She goes to the bathroom and shuts the door, cleaning herself up and redressing. She thinks for a moment about going back out naked, kissing him ravenously, and performing another round. She decides against it when she realizes the time.
When she emerges from the bathroom, Cloud is mostly dressed, in the middle of buttoning up his shirt. He's frowning at a few of the holes, and Tifa notices that he's missing a few buttons.
"I'm good at sewing," she says, walking toward his desk. "I can fix that for you if…you need."
He glances up to her, and he smirks. "I might take you up on that."
Tifa looks at the desk again and blushes. They've left evidence of their sex—not limited to a dent in the corner from Tifa's heel and the items that she pushed off the desk. His keyboard and mouse are on the floor, a few of the keys broken off and scattered on the tile.
"I guess I do have to reimburse you," she says, her voice quiet with her embarrassment.
Cloud leans over and picks them up, placing them on the desk. "No, you don't. I was joking. I'll grab another one this weekend."
She bites her lip, but he comes up to her. "It's okay, Tifa, don't worry about it."
She puts a hand up to the side of her face and sighs. "Sorry, I've never broken anything before during…"
Cloud smiles at her. "I'll take that as a good sign."
She utters a surprised laugh. He shocks her again by coming up to kiss her.
Cloud walks her out to the elevator. It almost feels like a date, in reverse, though neither broach the topic of what it is between them. For now, Tifa doesn't mind it, because she's still not sure what she can call it besides an affair with her boss. And the word affair is both electrifying and…unpleasant. But the way he eyes her is anything but unpleasant, and Tifa wants to ride this out between them for as long as she can.
"Any weekend plans?" she asks him as they arrive to the doors.
"Just the normal," he says. "What about you?"
"Same as you," she answers, smiling.
The elevators ding, and the metal doors shutter open.
"Well," she says, facing him for a brief moment. "Have a great weekend. I'll see you."
He opens his mouth and hesitates, but all he says is a farewell. "Yeah. You too. I'll see you."
The doors close between them, and Tifa leans against the walls of the elevator, trying to retain the strength in her legs. She already knows she'll dream about him, tonight, his voice cracking, uttering fuck and goddamn and imagining the glazed look in his gleaming blue eyes as he dropped all the pieces of his armor, as he came inside of her, and as he confessed her name like a dagger piercing her skin.