A/N: Another look at the diverse family Cloud Strife has accumulated. What is it about them that makes it so easy to write about?

Summary: Denzel is surprised when Cloud picks him up at school. What happens next makes him one of the happiest kids in the world. Set sometime/when/where after Advent Children and Dirge of Cerberus.

Jealousy, Take 4

By Ivy Tanté

Resolutely attacking the next arithmetic problem scribbled on the blackboard, Denzel wondered if this was to be the sum total of his life. For some reason the days were falling into a rut; home, school, home, school. There was little variety in his routine and Denzel felt dull and boring. Quite a step down from Geostigma, he reminded himself as he fumbled his way to the solution for number four. Sighing inwardly, he copied number five onto his worksheet and sat staring at it.

The knock on the door had Ms. Vimbrose looking up in surprise. "Come in," she called, setting down her day planner.

The door opened and Cloud Strife walked into the classroom. And every female present -including Ms. Vimbrose- instantly fell into a giggling fit. It was all Denzel could do not to roll his eyes toward the ceiling. He didn't yet understand the effect his father had on women, but he couldn't deny it existed. The proof of this power was right there in front of him, evidenced in the blush Ms. Vimbrose sported as Cloud walked to her desk to hand her a sign-out slip.

"I'm picking Denzel up a little early today. Sorry for interrupting class, Ms. Vimbrose," Cloud apologized. Even without the Fusion sword, he looked very exotic standing there by her desk in his layered black clothes and pauldron, the leather gloves and dust skirt.

It was a little strange to see his normally serious teacher stutter out, "Oh, its fine, Mr. Strife. Denzel, copy the rest of the problems on the board and I'll check your answers tomorrow. Homework is worksheet number six on page 14."

As Denzel copied from the blackboard, he actually did roll his eyes at Ms. Vimbrose's squeaky voice when his father insisted in that quietly intense way of his that she call him Cloud. Finished, he started cramming everything into his backpack in such a manner Cloud laughed.

"The road isn't going anywhere, Denzel. There's no need to hurry so much," Cloud told him, amusement showing in the vividly blue eyes.

Denzel looked up to find his father leaning casually against Ms. Vimbrose's desk, arms crossed over his chest as he smiled at his son. He wasn't paying any attention to his son's teacher, who was having a knicker attack over the fact Cloud Strife was practically sitting on her desk. He could nearly see the squiggly red hearts floating around her head.

Glancing around, he saw that every one of his classmates was trying very hard not to stare at Cloud, and failing. Awe shone on their faces. And for the first time, Denzel actually looked at his father through their eyes. He found that although Cloud wasn't tall, he was lean and strongly built, and surprisingly leggy for his height. The pale blonde spiky hair framed a face that had an angelic cast, but the brilliant blue eyes were far older than they should have been. There was a barely-leashed power to him that was quite a contrast to his quiet manner. He was Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER and savior of the planet.

And that was all his friends knew. They weren't privileged to see just how bad his hair usually looked when he stumbled downstairs in the morning, desperately seeking a cup of coffee, eyes vague and unfocused. They didn't know how amusing it was for Cloud to hang his head and shuffle his feet when Tifa caught him leaving oily bootprints on her kitchen floor after tuning up Fenrir in the garage. They couldn't see the way he'd poke at one of the strange vegetables on his plate then give Tifa a pleading look that she always ignored until he at least tried it. They had no clue how inept he was with the sorting and washing of laundry, or his ignorance over how to properly load the dishwasher. Even the microwave laughed at his efforts occasionally.

They also didn't know how good it felt to snuggle up to him, to be wrapped in his arms as he rocked back and forth and rubbed his hands down your back. They weren't aware he always smelled so good – like the wind just before a storm, filled with thunder and lightning. They had never heard that goofy laugh he made when he'd forgotten to pick up an item at the market and had to go back. And they didn't know about all the tickle wrestling matches, pillow fights, water gun wars, secret ice creams runs.

But they also didn't know of the nightmares. Of the times he would walk the floor, almost afraid to try and sleep because of the haunting images. They didn't know of the guilt that lived inside him for the lives he hadn't saved, for the control others had had over him. They had never seen Cloud all but crippled by indecision, or watched him fight his self-doubts and insecurities. Sure, he wielded the Fusion sword without seeming effort, but the cost of that expertise was a lot heavier than anyone could imagine.

They didn't know the real Cloud Strife.

The thought inspired him. Leaving his cluttered desk, he walked up and motioned for Cloud to lean down. Keeping his voice low so their conversation was private, Cloud asked him, "What is it, Denzel?"

"Will you tell the class a story, the way you tell them to me and Marlene?" he whispered, fidgeting nervously.

Cloud blinked in surprise, then inquired, "You would rather I talk to the class than take you for a ride?"

Fidgeting a bit more, Denzel finally answered, "They don't know how it really happened. It wasn't just battles and bad guys, Cloud."

Straightening, Cloud seemed to consider his words before turning to Ms. Vimbrose. They spoke quietly for a minute, and then Ms. Vimbrose motioned for the other kids in the class to come forward. "Cloud," and dreamy way she said the name had Denzel snickering behind his hand, "has agreed to tell us something of his travels if you'd like to hear of them." There was a moment of shocked silence, followed by the mad scramble to get out of their seats and up to the front of the room as fast as possible. With Cloud sitting on the floor completely surrounded by children, Denzel snuggled at his side, he started to talk.

Cloud wasn't an eloquent speaker and didn't try to impress them; his words were simple but descriptive. The picture he painted wasn't of victories and glory, but rather of the common-place in a world going mad. Tales of bathing in rain barrels in little out-of-the-way rural inns. Of the troubles of camping when there weren't any public restrooms. How horrible the noodles were in those packages of travel food. The blisters formed by walking day after day to reach your destination. What was needed to catch a Chocobo in the wild. Of scrounging in the forest for something edible to the point you felt rather like a squirrel. The difficultly of fighting a monster with one hand during a 'bathroom break', while the other was holding up unfastened pants.

That story got lots of snickers and hoots of laughter since Cloud described everything so well you could all but see the charging Head Hunter and the bouncing roll of toilet paper.

The afternoon passed by so quickly they were all shocked when the bell sounded at the end of the day. But since Cloud was still talking, no one got up to gather their things. Eventually their parents came looking for them, confused as to why their children weren't running out of school -screaming in joy at the freedom- like normal. Denzel sat there grinning as several of the parents, obviously fascinated by the novelty of the subject, plopped right down beside their kids to listen as well.

They might never know the real Cloud Strife, but they could at least learn something about him that didn't have anything to do with fighting Sephiroth…