Author's Note: According to a certain anonymous reader, I write horribly and I rant about my problems that he/she does not want to hear about. Well, you know what? You try living with a psychotic alcoholic of a mother that makes the Osbournes look Amish. So there you go, Miss/Mister. Plus, I'm stating a reason why I can't post as much. And if you don't think I write well and I should stop, why the hell did you read all those chapters up to that one?

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all things related to it belong to Tetsuya Nomura.

The coolness of the silk sheets began to get warm from Reno's body temperature, and he shifted from his usual fetal position to find a cool spot on the queen-sized mattress. The inviting raw temperature felt good for only a moment, but then it would be replaced by an uncomfortable hot sensation. His hair was also untied and kept his neck irritably toasty.

Even though it was quite late in the night, Reno was wide awake, despite the fact that he was used as a punching bag a few hours before. Perhaps like the sweet Hyacinth-like scent on Tifa's pillowcases was acted like caffeine to him. The room was lit by the glow of the streetlamp outside, and it shone from a window high up on a wall.

He sat up in bed, dark sheets covering his body from the navel and below, and turned on the rather squarish lamp on her bedside table. Then he screamed.

Rather girlishly.

We ask for many things in the world. We might unknowingly ask for a second helping of cheesecake that had unknowingly curdled. We might want the Hotel to supply you with vanilla-scented bubble bath, and not lavender. We might ask for a hot pack when you have cramps. We might ask for mittens for when your hands get cold. We might ask for all the soldiers in the world to lay down their weapons and join us in a rousing chorus of "Cry Me a River", if that happens to be your favorite song. We might even ask for peppermint gun for when you have halitosis in a romantic situation.

We may ask for them, but will our requests be answered? Not always.

"Tseng, what's the problem? You're not in the mood again?"
"It's not that, Elena…"
"Then what is it?"
"It's… nothing."
"Are you sleeping with someone else?"
"No, I'm—OW! DON'T BITE ME DOWN THERE, DAMNIT."
Tifa wiped the sleep from her eyes with her fingertips and walked to the bathroom in her pink slippers. The air was nippy, since the heating wasn't turned on in the mornings.

When she was done washing up, she went to the kitchen, still in her pajamas and slippers, to make some breakfast for Reno. Reno. She didn't hear anything during the night… was he dead? Was he suffering from something… like a hemorrhage… or even…

Tifa quickly buttered a piece of bread and rammed it in the toaster. She poured a cup of orange juice in a cup and pulled out the unfinished toast and threw it on a plate, and ran up the stairs as quickly as she could without spilling anything.

When she kicked the door open, she saw Reno, with bags under his eyes, curled nakedly around a bedpost, looking wary and afraid something on the bed he was staring blankly at.

"That thing…" he shakily pointed his finger at the corner of her bed, "attacked me!"

The brunette followed his finger and saw that it pointed to her Siamese cat, a little kitten that went by the name of "Iris".

She giggled. Snorted, almost. Setting the food down on her computer table, she gingerly picked up Iris, who was glaring at Reno with bright blue eyes that rivaled his, and walked to the doorway. "Glad to see that you're doing well." Tifa said sarcastically, as Iris batted at Tifa's earring.

Reno stuck his tongue out at her as she left, and crawled out of her bed and plopped down on her chair, in all his bare glory, and began eating the slice of toast.

"Rude."
"Hi, this is Tifa."
"Tifa?"
"Yeah. Can you do me a favor?"
"…"
"Reno had an accident. Can you come by my place and drop off some clothes for him?"
"…"
"Preferably including his boxers."
"…"
"Hello?"
"Did he use a condom? Are you on the pill?"
"..."