A/N: One more little one-shot, then back to the grind on the Poker Series. I've even published a new chapter on the Denzel Chronicles. Yeah, me! So let's take another look at the pitfalls in the life and times of Cloud Strife. And remember that under it all, he is just a man...

Summary: Cloud Strife is capable of plotting routes all over the world for his messenger service. But when it comes to something as simple as Denzel's birthday party, he is a fish out of water. Enter Tifa to save the day - in her own fashion. *Chuckle* Set sometime/when/where after Advent Children and Dirge of Cerberus.

Jealousy, Take 3

By Ivy Tanté

ab

CRASH! The sound reverberated through the 7th Heaven Bar located in the city of Edge. Conversation lagged as the patrons of the bar looked questioningly at Tifa Lockhart. But since she didn't seem worried or even surprised, they went right back to their drinks. If the owner didn't respond to the quake, why should they?

Smiling reassuringly, Tifa motioned for her part-time bartender to take over. Bypassing the kitchen that served the bar, she headed upstairs. Stopping by a door with a hand-written sign announcing 'Strife Delivery Service' in legible but childish script, she gave it a light knock then stepped inside. One look at the resulting chaos within forced her to clamp a hand to her mouth least the laugh escape.

Sitting forlornly in the middle of the disaster was Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER and savior of the planet - several times over. He did not much resemble a hero at the moment, though. Whatever he was attempting to construct lay scattered in pieces around him; one washer was still rotating slightly before him and he stared at it as though personally affronted by its presence. There were tiny scraps of paper in his disorderly shock of blonde spikes and dirt was smudged across one cheek. When he looked up, the fire in his vividly blue eyes with their green Mako taint all but singed her.

"One word, Tifa. Just one," he snarled out.

Sensibly, Tifa didn't say anything. But she did cross the room and drop to sit cross-legged beside him. Pulling the dish towel out of her waistband, she gently rubbed at the dirt on his face. Sighing, he closed his eyes and let her run her hands through his hair to remove the bits clinging to him like confetti.

"I'm hopeless," he finally murmured. But he smiled when she turned his head to kiss him.

"Tell me what you're trying to do. Maybe I can help," Tifa offered, kissing him again just to take the sting out of the offer.

Jabbing a bit viciously at a wooden bracket, he answered, "It's a game. Putt-putt. It has these frames you put together and lay out in a pattern on the floor so the kids can knock a golf ball around. Obstacles you have to knock the ball through. I thought we could set it up after the bar closes for Denzel's birthday party."

That he would try to do something like this for Denzel tugged at her heart strings. Forgiving him for snarling at her, Tifa leaned over him to glance at the instructions, "I'm familiar with the game, Cloud. Are all the pieces here?" At his blank look, she resolutely stomped on her urge to laugh and asked, "Did you check the inventory against the list?"

Cloud muttered something under his breath and ducked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak that language," Tifa informed him and got another fiery glare in return. The situation would have been hilarious - if not for the effect those looks had on her libido. Cloud was difficult enough to resist in the best of times; toss in one of those hot-as-Ifrit stares of his and she was so much putty in his hands. And she had learned first hand just what he liked to do with her when she was putty.

Closing his eyes, Cloud called up what patience he could. "No, I didn't check. But," and he drawled out the word as he snatched up and brandished the papers, "I have been reading the instructions."

Knowing what it cost to admit he'd resorted to the manual, Tifa didn't crack a smile. There were consequences; she was sure her ribcage would never be quite the same. But somehow she told him sweetly, "Then I'll help. We should be able to tackle this together." When he would have protested she waved him off, "I've got Ben downstairs on the stick. He'll be fine for the moment." Then she let that wicked smile show as she poked him in the side, "But it's going to come with a hefty price tag, Cloud Strife."

Instantly wary, Cloud leaned back a bit and gave her a suspicious look. "And what do you mean by that?"

Confident in her power, Tifa snuggled up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Teasing his lips with soft brushes of her own, she whispered, "You have to let me pick out your outfit for the party."

Cloud mulled that over for a minute then agreed. Tifa wasn't about to force him to wear something foolish; he was aware she liked to show him off when she could. "Outfit, Tifa. Not costume," he clarified.

Smiling, because she knew she had him now, Tifa nodded. "No costumes or funny outfits. I want all the other women in there drooling over the manly picture you make, Cloud." Running her hands up his wonderfully defined chest, she then continued with her stipulations, "You have to stay for the whole party. No ducking out about halfway through like normal."

A growl sounded low in his throat over that one. "You know I don't like crowds, Tifa. And this one is going to have a horde of over-stimulated, sugar-high kids making enough noise we'll probably break a few city ordinances." He scowled at her smirk, "What in the world could induce me to accept your help when I have to go through Hades because of it?"

And... here comes the whammy, Tifa thought with satisfaction. Rising, she wandered over to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Pulling out a small flat package from under a stack of black jeans, she tossed it in his lap and waited to see his response.

Frowning, Cloud picked it up and studied it. "What?" he gasped out, then looked up at her in astonishment. "How long has this been in there?"

Laughing, Tifa settled herself in his lap and rested her forearms on his shoulders. "About three months, if I remember correctly. Want to see it on me?" She leaned forward and teased his lips again with a few soft kisses that he returned almost absently, such was his intense concentration on the package in his hands.

Then his attention returned to her, and the sheer heat of his gaze darn near scorched her on the spot. Dropping the negligee, he snatched her even closer and whispered in her ear, "What I'm looking forward to is peeling you out of it." Grinning at the shudder that ran through her, he added, "And I'm going to kiss every inch as I remove it."

Fanning herself a little, Tifa swallowed hard and said in a voice just a bit squeaky, "Then we had better get started on the frames now, or we'll never get done."

Cloud knew the sooner they finished, the quicker he could get his hands on Tifa as a prelude to the night's performance. "I'll get the spare tool kit," he promised, rising and setting her lovingly back on her feet. Then he all but bolted from the room.

Tifa stood there in the middle of chaos looking down at the package still on the floor. She couldn't decide if she should feel guilty or not, but as thoughtful as the gift Cloud planned for Denzel was, she couldn't help but think she was the one making out like a bandit on her adopted son's birthday.

"Score one for Teef," she muttered to herself with a smile...