A/N: I like this chapter a lot. There's so much that happens in it, but it ignites a newfound relationship between the two. A bit of humor, a lot of surprises, and maybe a few cut-offs that will be explained or finished in further chapters. For now, try to enjoy this one.
Christmas carols were stuck in her head, the kitchen still smelled of burned meat, and the heater was broken, as was a window in the back of the condo.
Tifa was utterly pissed.
Merry Christmas Tifa, she thought bitterly as she used a knife to scrape the remaining meat crisps off the pan. Snow covered the bar, the roads, the whole damn planet, it seemed. Phone lines were down; she couldn't wish her beloveds a merry Christmas. The pipes were frozen, so showers or even face washing was out of the question.
A loud crack made her mind stop and her hands freeze. What the hell was that?
She heard it again. And again. They started coming faster and louder, and Tifa dropped the pan she was holding, spinning around in time to see bark and leaves coming her way. She yelled out in panic and leapt to her right towards the doorway.
Along with her body crashing to the floor, she felt something fall on her leg. She cried out in pain, balling her hands into fists. She looked over her shoulder the best she could and saw that her kitchen was demolished. A tree – not too big, but none to small, either – laid in the kitchen and outside as well. Tifa scowled darkly at it; the one tree that had grown so much as a mile from the city had to grow right next to – and fall into – the bar. Dammit.
She struggled to get her leg free of the heavy branch that trapped it; the bark was digging into her skin and puncturing it. To top it off, since half the wall was gone, Tifa discovered it was still snowing outside.
Tifa continued to squirm and lift and pull and push, but with no avail. Exhausted, she finally slumped to the floor, breathing heavily. Blood now trickled down the sides of her leg; moving had only made matters worse as far as the branches went. Snow was beginning to pile up around the body of the tree. Tifa lay with her cheek touching the cold hardwood floor. Her hair was sprawled around her, and she was too tired to brush it from her face.
A knock on the door alerted her senses that someone was here, but her lack of strength was too overwhelming at the moment. It came again, and she snapped to.
"Come in!" Her spirit was lit with hope and thanks; she would finally be free.
"The door is locked."
Fuck.
"Well, then, just…" Wait a minute… she knew that voice. Her mind was barely on track, but it was too familiar to ignore. Her insides were warm with optimism again. "Just come inside the wall!"
"Excuse me?"
"The kitchen wall… walk to it!"
Silence. She waited.
"…The one with the tree through it?" His voice was much closer now, clearer, and it dripped with playful sarcasm. Her eyes rolled, accessorized with just as playful a smile.
"No, the other one!"
She heard his footsteps now, and heard him climbing over the tree. He had to be able to see her now. She was right.
In less than two seconds, she felt the tree being lifted from her body, but her body being lifted as well. She blinked in amazement; how was he doing that? She blinked again, and she found herself being held in Vincent Valentine's arms. Of course, he knew not to touch her leg, for which she was very grateful, but he gave her a stern look.
"Of all days for you to be stuck under a tree…"
"Don't start with me."
He offered a crooked smile, and Tifa sighed, but smiled back.
"Thanks."
He nodded, then looked around. Tifa saw that he wasn't wearing his cloak, and narrowed her eyes. "Why aren't you covered up today? Are you insane?"
His head was turned, but his eyes met hers. "I believe you're referring to my cloak?"
Tifa nodded, and Vincent smirked. Blinking again, Tifa tilted her head. Vincent said nothing, and she shuddered from the cold, wrapping her cover around her tighter.
Wait, what? Tifa looked at her own body. She was wrapped in Vincent's red, velvet cloak. Her lips parted in bafflement; when the hell had he put this on her?
She looked up at him again, realizing that he had started walking towards the broken wall. She was confused, so she observed as he quickened his pace at the last second, then leapt up onto the tree, ducked under where the top of the gaping hole was, and jumped not down from the tree, but up onto the next building.
Tifa was too distracted by the amount of pain in her leg and the numbness on the rest of her body to comment on Vincent's defiance of gravity. She shuddered again, gritting her teeth.
Even as he moved, Vincent looked down at her, his expression concerned and uneasy. Never stopping, he managed to pull the cloak around her tighter, covered most of her face and, more importantly, her legs.
Tifa breathed a sigh as she felt a sudden, delightful wave of warmth fill her veins. It was gone too quickly, and she frowned at the bitter cold surrounding her again. She curled tightly into Vincent's chest, her head just barely touching Vincent's chin. He only smiled.
Even more suddenly than before, warmth found its way around and into her body again. Her eyes shot open and she looked around. She was still in Vincent's arms, but she was indoors now. She sniffed the air and grimaced; it smelled like rubber gloves and medicine. One explanation; he had taken her to the hospital.
She scowled and squirmed in Vincent's arms, pushing against his chest. Of course, the only thing she was pushing was Vincent's patience. He looked at her and lifted an eyebrow.
"It's either this or your bar."
Tifa rolled her eyes. "I can take my chances with a little injury like this. I've had much worse." He damn well knew it, too.
Vincent shook his head, but didn't get a chance to say anything. The woman behind the front desk lifted her head.
"What can we do for you?"
Tifa turned her head to look; the woman looked to be in her mid-forties. There was a youthful man sitting next to her, busily working on his computer. Vincent stepped forward, his attention not drifting from the woman in his arms.
"She has an injury on her leg. The blizzard's winds weakened a tree outside and it consequently fell through her wall." He paused. "She was lucky to have dodged it the way she did."
Tifa glowered. Pfft… "lucky" he says…
The woman nodded, tapping her bottom lip with her pen. The man stopped typing and found Tifa's gaze out of the corner of his eye. Her expression let him know that his computer monitor was probably a smarter choice to look at. He obliged.
"Well, we'll have her sent to a room immediately then." She picked up the phone on the desk, pressing a button. She waited, then smiled. "Yes, we have a young woman with a punctured leg. Yes sir. No, it's just the wound, though a tree caused it, so there may be some bark in it. Yes sir, someone brought her." She stopped, covering the speaking end of the phone with her hand. "Relatives or spouses?"
Tifa winced, but reached for her leg to indicate it was the throbbing pain in her leg. She could've sworn she saw Vincent smirk, but he smiled politely at the woman.
"Relatives."
The woman nodded and smiled, then continued to speak into the phone. When she finished, they had to wait no more than ten seconds until someone came through the glass doors to the left. Vincent gracefully placed Tifa on the gurney that was brought out, then turned back the desk. Out of instinct, Tifa lifted her arm and brushed her hand against his. He looked over his shoulder to see her pleading face. He blinked calmly.
"I'll be right here."
Tifa let herself be carried away, and she watched Vincent begin to fill out the paperwork on the desk.
"Is she asleep?"
"Yes. We gave her some of our good old-fashioned knock-out medicine," Tifa heard an unfamiliar voice speak with a chuckle. "We've removed all alien items from her leg, and we were able to stop the bleeding soon after. There's no infection, but we'll need you to make sure she takes these painkillers. I'm almost positive she'll feel something as soon as she wakes up." Distant footsteps told Tifa there was now only one other person in the room. She dared to open her eyes.
Vincent was leaning against the closed door, one hand holding the small bottle of her new medication, the other covering his eyes. She tilted her head, then lifted herself onto her elbows. The bed underneath her squeaked, and Vincent's head jerked up. Tifa caught his expression quickly; his eyes were filled with worry and distress. But in the next second, he was standing up straight, chuckling at her.
"Well, you came-to quicker than I thought you would."
"I'm stronger than you give me credit for," Tifa muttered. She saw his grip on the bottle tighten, and he frowned.
"You couldn't have taken care of that by yourself, Tifa. You needed professional medical help."
"So do you."
Vincent sighed, but he wasn't defeated. "You frightened me."
Tifa blinked. Well that was a surprise. "What?"
"You weren't moving when I saw you in the kitchen. There was more blood than there should be from the wound of the strongest woman I know."
Tifa only stared at Vincent. He wasn't looking at her, but there was something in his expression that made her unable to look away. She felt a pang of guilt hit her stomach.
"I'm sorry. I'm not used to being taken care of. You… you were just trying to help, and I was being a bitch about it."
The corners of Vincent's lips twitched, but he didn't move. "I wouldn't say that."
"Well I did. And I'm sorry it has to be true." She smiled. "You're something else, Vincent."
"Thank you for your help." Vincent spoke while shaking the doctor's hand. He smiled.
"Anytime, though I sincerely hope we won't have a repeat of this incident, Tifa." He winked at her, and Tifa couldn't help but smile.
"No promises."
Vincent took Tifa's medication from the counter and helped her out the door, walking along side her at her crutch-infected pace. Tifa had turned down the suggestion of taking them, but under Vincent's hard glare, how could she refuse?
As they came out the first glass door, Tifa looked outside; it had stopped snowing, but there was about twice as much as there had been before. Then something hit her.
"How are you getting me home?"
Vincent motioned outside, and she looked again; she saw his truck this time. She blinked, distinctly remembered being flown here instead. She looked at Vincent in disbelief.
"You left?"
Vincent pushed open the front door for her. "How else was I supposed to get you anywhere?"
Tifa pressed her lips together. They made their way to the truck, and he opened the door for her again, not only placing the crutches in the back of the truck for her, but also lifting her easily into the seat. Tifa blushed; she wasn't used to this kind of care and attention, much less from Vincent. He was such the gentleman.
He was soon in the driver's seat, and they were out of the parking lot in no time. Tifa sighed; thank Bahamut. She hated hospitals.
The truck was dead silent. Tifa felt relaxed; the freedom from the hospital, half the amount of pain in her leg, the warmth of the old truck, and the smell of Vincent Valentine surrounding her. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, but smiled anyway.
As he drove, Vincent never once took his eyes off the road, but he kept one hand on the wheel with his other on the back of Tifa's seat. Whenever she coughed roughly or shivered slightly, his hand would slide down from the seat, stroke the hair on the back of her head a few times, then find its way onto the seat again. Tifa didn't comment on this, but she found herself wanting to choke to death just to have him do it again every time.
They passed the entrance to the road that led to the bar. Tifa didn't notice at first, but she started realizing where they were exactly.
"Uh, Vincent?"
"Just trust me."
Tifa had no choice. She closed her eyes and leaned against the window, breathing in that beautiful, mind-boggling scent.
Tifa awoke from pleasant dreams and to satisfying warmth, along with two unmistakably amazing smells. One of them was coming from the soft, thick bed sheets around and above her; they smelled of him.
The other was coming from downstairs. Tifa breathed in and smiled, but never opened her eyes or moved from the bed.
Bed… yes, she was in her bed. She curled up on her side, still smiling into her pillow. Her dreams had been wonderful. They consisted of plights and a brave, handsome knight to banish her troubles away. It seemed silly – the dream had merely started in the local grocery store.
"Tifa? Are you awake?"
Tifa's eyes shot open. No dreams. No plights. But the handsome knight stood outside her door? She threw the covers off her body, leaping from the bed and rushing to the nearest source of clothes. She froze to discover that they weren't her clothes. She looked down to see that she was wearing the clothes from her dream. Or was it the day before today?
Holding her forehead with one hand, Tifa walked to the door and opened it. Her knight stood before her, and he looked up from the floor to meet the damsel in distress face to face. He quirked an eyebrow.
"Food, if you're hungry."
"You really don't have to do all this, Vince. It's not necessary." Tifa shifted uncomfortably on the chair, pulling her hair behind her ear and seeing a plate of steaming food being set in front of her. Vincent walked around to the other side of the table, sitting down as well.
Tifa eyed the food, then looked up at Vincent. He motioned for her to eat, and she slowly picked up her fork to do so. As the first bit of food entered her mouth, she closed her eyes for a moment and smiled; it had been so long since she'd eaten something so well prepared. Normally her meals consisted of frozen dinners and whatnot.
Vincent watched her carefully. She seemed to be in her own world now, and he found it hard to believe it had anything to do with his cooking.
"Did you sleep well?" He spoke quietly, never taking his eyes off her. While chewing, she nodded, her eyes meeting his. Once she swallowed, she smiled.
"I did, thanks." A thought suddenly popped into her head, and she immediately became uneasy. "That… that wasn't your bed I slept in, was it?"
Vincent tilted his head. "Whose else would it be?"
Tifa sighed and closed her eyes. "Vincent…"
"I don't want to hear it. You needed rest and a spot better than a sofa."
Tifa's eyes widened. "You slept on your couch because of me?"
Vincent shook his head. "Because of me. You were practically unconscious… I could have put you on the sofa if I wanted to," he said half jokingly. Tifa sat back with her hand covering her eyes.
"What a sight that must have been."
Vincent leaned over the table a little.
"You were no trouble to me yesterday, last night, or this morning. Tifa, I consider you to be a friend of mine, and no friend of mine sleeps on a couch while recovering from an injury at half an hour until midnight." He lifted his chin. "Understood?"
Tifa frowned; well when he put it like that…
She crossed her arms and closed her eyes again. "Merry Christmas, Tifa," she muttered. Vincent blinked, then smirked.
"That reminds me…"
Tifa's eyes shot open, but Vincent was already gone. No. He… he didn't…
She saw him return with something in his right hand, and she groaned to realize it was a box, neatly wrapped and small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. He placed it on the table in front of her, grabbing the plate and looking at her. She nodded for him to take it and stared at the box.
"You… got me something?"
"Yesterday was Christmas, was it not?"
"It was…"
"And as I just told you, you are a friend of mine, are you not?"
"I am…"
"So open it."
Tifa bit the side of her bottom lip, uncertainly reaching for the box. Flashing thoughts of Vincent shopping – something he'd only told her days ago that he disliked doing – late at night or early in the morning with only her in mind came running through her head, and it almost made her abstain from taking that little box. She figured it was smarter to oppose that hesitance.
She almost didn't want to unwrap it; it was so beautiful. The paper was light blue with glittered snowflakes, and there was a silver ribbon tied around it. Tifa was beginning to wonder how much effort he had actually put into wrapping this – if any at all; she was aware that most stores would wrap gifts for indolent shoppers. Or untalented ones.
For some reason, she was careful as she untied the ribbon, unaware that Vincent was now watching her. He leaned casually against the counter, patiently waiting for her to unwrap his gift.
She let the ribbon fall on the table, and she paused for a second before she began to work on the paper. To her relief, it came off quickly and easily – she caught a glance from Vincent, and she felt the need to speed things up a little.
The box itself was black, with some type of brand name written in gold across the top. Tifa hesitated once again, then lifted the top of the box. She dropped the lid of the box on the table, using that hand to cover her mouth.
She hadn't known what to expect; the fact that Vincent Valentine had gotten her anything was startling enough, but… this…
A necklace. A beautiful, silver, perfect necklace. The silver was real, she could see that much. There were three hearts in the front, the two on the sides slightly smaller than that in the middle. In the actual chain part, every other space in the chain held a small, lovely and very real diamond.
Tifa was speechless, to say in the least.
"And don't you dare ask how much I spent," Vincent said. Tifa couldn't move. She only stared at the necklace. He watched her for a moment, then walked to her side, kneeling so that he was at her eye-level.
"Would you like me to put it on for you?"
Tifa blinked once, twice. She held the box in one hand, her mouth still covered with the other. She slowly nodded, then handed the box to Vincent, who was much more swift in his movements. He was able to put the necklace on her without her even moving her hair. She lifted her hand to her chest, placing her fingers gently over the hearts. Vincent came around to see his masterpiece, and nodded in approval.
"It suits you."
Tifa blushed and lowered her head, her hair falling over her shoulders, and her head now hiding the necklace. Vincent scowled and reached forward. He caught her chin and gently – but with irrefutable force – lifted her head up again. Their gazes met. Vincent waited to make sure he had her attention, then leaned in toward her again.
"Don't hide it," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. Her expression was confused, and he continued. "You're a beautiful woman, Tifa. You act as if you're ashamed of that."
Tifa's lips parted. "N-no, I was just…"
Vincent shook his head. "I could picture you in this necklace the moment I saw it." He moved in again, his head advancing past hers. His lips found her ear, and he smiled as he whispered into it.
"It's perfect on you."
Tifa's heart skipped a beat. Before it had time to recover, Vincent was standing again in front of her. She kept her eyes on the floor, trying to remember how to breathe. Just as she thought she was sane again, her eyes widened.
"My… my bar! It's probably filled with snow! And that hole… rodents and bugs, and termites! I… I have to get there!"
"I've already made a call. Your bar is fine."
"B-but…"
"Tifa."
She looked up; that voice of his was too much for her to handle. She couldn't not obey it. His expression was stern, firm, and very secure.
"Do you trust me?"
Tifa sighed; she should have seen that coming, but she was also disappointed. He already knew the answer to that question, but he was making her say it anyway. She wanted to roll her eyes, but held it back and nodded instead.
"You know I do."
Vincent was still, then he smiled gently. "Well then, now that we have that taken care of, why don't you accompany me in going out for the evening?"
Tifa blinked. "Evening?"
Vincent tilted his head. "Yes… it's around five. What time did you think it was?"
Tifa wanted to faint. She'd never slept in that long. There was never an issue or enough time, and she felt incredibly guilty for having done it. He must have checked on her at least three times last night. Well, morning, anyway.
Vincent held out his hand to her. "I insist."
She smiled, her fingers playing with her new jewelry accessory. It was the least she could do.
"Oh come on, Vincent. Challenge me a little." Tifa smirked. "Grasshopper."
Vincent chuckled. "Quite the expert, aren't you?"
"Who's the bartender here?"
"Right, well, that was the third, so it's my turn, I believe."
"Yes."
Tifa removed her blindfold and passed it to Vincent, who began tying it as Tifa quietly ordered three more drinks. The bartender seemed to be amused at their game – or perhaps he was thrilled at the amount of money he was making in his shift.
Vincent faced her in the stool, waiting for the first to be placed in his hand. Tifa chose one and gave it to him. He took a small sip, licking his lips after the glass left them.
"Red Snapper? You must be joking, Tifa."
She laughed. "All right, no making fun. And stop that! You won't be able to taste the others."
The blindfold hid Vincent's guilty look. He put down the now empty glass on the counter and awaited his second drink, which was soon handed to him. He sipped this one as well, and thought for a second.
"Cinnamon Sangria, correct?"
"Yeah, yeah. That one was too easy. Try this," Tifa mocked. Vincent felt the challenge in Tifa's voice and smirked something that said, 'bring it.'
When he tasted this one, he was relaxed immediately – this drink always seemed to do that trick for him – but he was surprised as well, taken aback by the fact that Tifa would dare him to name the drink. Still, this was a game, and if she wanted him to come out and play, he'd oblige, but with mind tricks of his own.
He set the glass down and pretended to ponder. He even went so far as rubbing his chin. Tifa stared in disbelief. She had only been kidding when she gave the idea it would be a hard drink, but honestly, she was astonished that Vincent couldn't name it. Still, maybe the ever-modest (or somewhat shy) Vincent Valentine had never tasted this drink. Maybe he wasn't naming it because he couldn't. Tifa waited impatiently, her smirk growing by the second.
He was certainly taking his sweet time, and Tifa had found the more comfortable position of leaning to her right a little, her arm resting on the counter. Finally, she saw him take the blindfold off, but he never looked at the drink. Instead, he looked at her, and she was amazed to see no ounce of perplexity in his expression. He was mocking her, too, and she narrowed her eyes, growling playfully.
"You…"
She didn't finish. Her lips came apart, her eyes widened, and her breath was taken away. Her heart fluttered and picked up on double time. Heat rose to her cheeks. She tried to take all this in, along with the fact that Vincent's lips were resting on hers.
He didn't move. Didn't budge. It hardly seemed he was breathing. She couldn't feel or think or move, so she finally relaxed and realized she liked it that way better anyway. She kissed him back, closing her eyes to think, and closing her lips over his to feel.
When they pulled apart, they looked at each other for the millionth time that day. Tifa, as always, couldn't find words or thoughts, so she sat there like an idiot, even though she wanted to say something. Scream something. Hell, anything instead of gaping at him.
On the other hand, she wasn't sure what to do. Out of all the surprises she'd gotten from him in only the past three days, this was the biggest.
He stared at her seriously, his eyes burning with sincerity. Tifa stared back, not sure whether she should feel flattered or uneasy. She took a small breath before asking a very serious question.
"You… you're not drunk, are you?"
Vincent blinked. Obviously, he hadn't been thinking of that. Of course he wasn't drunk; the Vincent Valentine didn't get drunk. But of course, Tifa's days in a bar had let her see what most men were like when alcohol took over their systems. Still, Vincent was amused. So amused in fact, that he smiled. Then grinned. He chuckled, and opened his mouth to laugh. He laughed… he laughed brightly and genuinely, and he had to cover his mouth to stop.
Tifa couldn't help but smile; it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard, and she wanted to hear it over and over again. He sighed, a smile remaining on his face.
"No. No, I'm not." He gave a satirical look in her direction. "Advantages of many experiments… you know plenty about that. Yes, I drink as much as I want and could probably drive immediately afterwards."
Tifa smiled and rolled her eyes. "Right." She paused, then lowered her eyes. "So… what was that all about, then?"
Vincent looked at the ceiling. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"
Tifa's heart did a flip. "Say what?"
He smirked, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was looking at her. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her closer. He moved toward her again.
"Sex on the Beach."
Tifa was still in a daze from the earlier event in the evening, and the day was far from over. After Vincent's consistent mocking, they'd both decided to drop the subject. Of course, it hadn't been easy for Tifa; naturally she wanted to know exactly why he'd kissed her in the first place.
"Would you like to come in?"
"What, you haven't tired of me yet?"
Tifa raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Yeah, kind of. But you're my only customer in days, so just get in here."
Vincent chuckled and brushed the fresh snow off his shoulders before stepping inside. Tifa followed suit and went around the counter. She grabbed the bowl of cherries from the fridge – nothing like an evening snack like that – and froze.
It was… warm in the kitchen.
She spun around to see that her wall was perfect. There was no tree in her kitchen. The countertop had no dents in it, no nature on it. The window was replaced and the floor was clean. Tifa nearly dropped the bowl in surprise.
"Are you all right, Tifa? Do you need help?"
"N-no… Vincent? Who exactly did you call?"
"Beg pardon?"
"My kitchen, dammit!"
"…Is it not to your liking?"
"No, no! It's perfect!" She exited the kitchen and placed the bowl on the counter in front of Vincent. He took a cherry and chewed on it, the stem hanging out of his mouth. He looked innocently at Tifa, who placed her hands on her hips and tried to be stern in order to get an answer out of him.
She ended up laughing instead. It was probably safe to say Vincent didn't let many people seem him the way he was now. He seemed so young…
Tifa wiped her eyes and smiled at Vincent. "So, who did you call?"
Vincent pulled the stem from his lips and placed it in the small glass container in front of him. He sighed and closed his eyes, linking his fingers together.
"Just… don't yell."
Tifa narrowed her eyes. "Why would I yell?"
"Tifa..."
She crossed her arms. "No promises, but go ahead."
Vincent cleared his throat.
"I called Reno."
Tifa blinked. Neither of them moved… both of them waiting for what would happen. Tifa brought her hands to her sides, closing her eyes and balling her hands into fists.
"Reno… was in my kitchen?"
"For a short period of time, yes. Did you not see what he did?"
She nearly started yelling. She would have, honestly, if Vincent hadn't been there. Then again, if he hadn't been there, she wouldn't have found out. If he hadn't been there, Reno never would have came.
She probably never would have made it to the hospital, either.
Tifa relaxed. "Fine. In that case, thank you." She smiled, opening her eyes. "I really do appreciate it. But… try to keep him out of my bar, okay? I don't want a repeat of last year's incident…"
Vincent quickly became interested. "Incident?"
"Yes," she sighed. She sat behind the counter, taking a cherry, but rolling it over all the others. "He's an idiotic, reckless, perverted, lying son-of-a-bitch."
Vincent's eyebrows shot up. She had more than sparked his interest now. "Idiot, check. Reckless, check. What brought on perverted and lying?"
Tifa rolled her eyes. "He's an obnoxious drunk, for one thing. I turn my back for one minute and he finds his way behind the counter. Apparently he's overly affectionate when he's drunk. He's lucky he wasn't the only one in the bar, or I would have knocked his teeth out right then and there."
Vincent watched Tifa's expression; he saw a flash of something big, something that wasn't supposed to be seen, but it was gone before he could study it. She continued.
"And he… kind of owes me money."
Raising an eyebrow, Vincent placed another cherry in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. He had to give it to Tifa; she had patience.
"For what does he owe you money?"
Vincent expected her to say a couple of beers, or even a night upstairs. The way she looked at him just now, however, told him something different completely. He saw it again; it was shame, guilt, and disgust. He dropped the cherry he was holding.
"Tell me I'm wrong."
Tifa bit her lip.
"Tell me I'm wrong."
"Probably not."
Vincent sighed and leaned back in his chair. Tifa couldn't take it.
"Don't give me that look! Do you even understand why I had to?"
"You didn't."
"Yes, I did! And that just proves that you don't understand! I told Cloud about it, and he didn't understand either!" She stopped, letting her shoulders drop. "And he's practically the cause of it."
Vincent cleared his throat. "Loneliness?"
Tifa hesitated, then nodded. Vincent shook his head.
"You realize that wasn't the solution."
"I know… I just… I couldn't help it. He was the only one around that I'd seen in a very long time."
"So was I, was I not?"
"Yes, but Reno's an idiot." She rubbed her eyes. "And so am I."
"No, you're not. You're a victim of seclusion, and I'm ashamed to say I'm a part of that outcome. AVALANCHE has failed to do much of anything as a whole lately, so I can understand how that part couldn't work out. As for Cloud and the children leaving, I can only imagine what a blow to the head that must have been. They're your life, and they were suddenly gone, all at once." He leaned forward and took one of her hands. "But what you did was not the answer, Tifa. It was the opposite. You took what you were craving for so long, but you lost it again, and it doubled your isolation. None of that could have been easy, but I will tell you this, Tifa Lockhart…"
Tifa looked up at Vincent, who smiled wickedly.
"You will get your money."
They were in the truck again. Tifa curled into a comfortable ball in the passenger's seat. Vincent held his phone to his ear, hardly worrying about the road in front of him.
Tifa had no doubt in her mind that she would be paid. Back at the bar, she had insisted that Vincent forget the subject was ever brought up and they both move on without Reno in their lives. But Vincent would have none of it.
"Besides," he had teased, "you probably deserve it, right?"
He'd left her standing behind the bar, humiliated and mortified.
But now she was forgetting it all. Everything around her was being pulled into a vortex of unimportance; all she cared about now was listening to his melodic voice and inhaling that enchanting scent – again, Vincent's cloak was used as her blanket.
"Ah, Reno, sorry to bother you so late." Tifa sneered; he didn't sound sorry at all. Vincent continued, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing another favor." He paused, his lips slightly apart. Tifa watched his blue-tinted face. His expression turned to disgust. "I wonder how you speak to your boss, Reno."
Tifa blinked in surprise. Vincent's voice had turned harsh, almost spiteful. His expression became calm again. "Meet me in Rufus's spare building." Another pause. "Yes, that one." He closed the phone and pocketed it. Tifa wrapped her cover around her arms tightly, closing her eyes. She felt like a child, but she found she was comfortable in her weaker state around Vincent. He was going to make her feel inferior regardless, so relaxing completely was best for her anyway.
"He's drunk."
Tifa sighed into the velvet fabric. "He's willing to spend more money without my discount just to get himself wasted."
"It would seem so."
Tifa nodded lightly and leaned her head against the window. Her breathing was relaxed and sound. Vincent glanced at her quickly before watching the road again.
He was still wondering what would happen after the day's excitement would finally end. The kiss he'd stolen from Tifa had probably shocked him more than it had her. He certainly had not been drunk at all, and he was very much in his right mind.
Well, maybe not so much. Before he had done it, all he could think was that it was the perfect time, the perfect woman. But when it happened, he couldn't think at all. When he felt those incredibly soft lips, his insides ached with so much emotion he could hardly stand it.
He didn't know what he was going to do now. It was the first time in many years he'd spent so much time with a woman at once, and it made him uncomfortable that he was suddenly being so intimate and forward with her.
He'd never done that with…
He reached the lodge, pulling into the driveway next to it. Once the keys were out of the ignition, he sighed, leaning back in the seat. Tifa was asleep now, and he looked from her to the front door.
He'd make it quick.
"Tifa, wake up."
Tifa's eyes fluttered open to the world's most beautiful face. She gave a startled moan, sitting up in the car's seat.
"Where are we?"
"You're in your driveway. You've been sleeping for about half an hour. I assume you'd like to go to bed?"
Tifa's head jerked in his direction. "I thought we were going to –"
"We did."
Silence. Tifa scratched behind her ear.
"Oh…"
"Indeed." He smiled sardonically. "Out of my truck then?"
Tifa obliged. He held her crutches for her, and when she was ready, he placed them under her arms. He walked along side her all the way to the front door, and held it open for her. She went inside, and he leaned in the doorway, the back of his shoulder keeping the door slightly open.
"So, you're fine on your own, then?"
Tifa turned as quickly as she could with her crutches. "You're… leaving?"
"I'm going home." He tilted his head. "Unless you covet my company…?"
Tifa blushed. She wished he hadn't put it like that, but the truth was she really did. She'd been with him for four days now, and she was used to his presence. Still, he had a life, and she was hardly the person to keep him from it. As discomforting as it was, she gave a sad smile and shook her head.
"No, don't wait on me. I'll be fine, really. I promise."
Vincent was nowhere near convinced, but he could tell she was decisive on making the day less awkward. His absence would probably be a little painful – especially after his idiotic decision in the other bar – but it wasn't like they lived together.
Even though he had a feeling she was getting there. She wanted to be with him now, and he could tell. She wasn't hopeless whatsoever on crutches around the bar and house, but he was afraid something similar to what happened with Reno would happen again.
Loneliness. His appearance. Loneliness again.
It couldn't be good. He'd definitely have to check up on her again. He'd wait a day or so, then return. It couldn't hurt too badly.
Tifa was waiting for his reply, so he nodded gravely. "Very well. Call me if you need anything."
He turned gracefully and began walking through the thin snow to his truck. Tifa's eyes followed him, and her vision became blurry.
What the hell! Tifa growled at herself and shook her head. Her tears flew in several directions. He lives close by! You'll see him again, now that he knows you're here!
But as Tifa watched him near his truck, she realized her abrupt despair had nothing to do with the fact that he was leaving. Before, when she'd spent a night with the insufferable redhead, there was action, yes. There was lust.
Earlier today… there was something else. It wasn't love. Not quite, anyway. But she was tenderly curious about him, or maybe it was further than that yet. In a way, she admired him. It was something she'd been longing for, that moment in the bar, and now she was sure it was leaving her forever, even though it lived right down the road.
"V-Vincent! Wait!"
She couldn't give more than a damn about her leg; it was perfectly fine, as long as she could still run on it. The wrap was just loose enough for her to run without her leg feeling too rapt.
He was at his door now, opening it. Her feet in the snow made hardly any noise, at the speed she was running.
But he knew she was there. He turned, and at the perfect second too, for he was able to catch a jumping Tifa in his arms, catching her lips with his. He held her close to him, his arms wrapped possessively around her body. She latched to his neck with her own arms.
All doubt that had somehow found its way into their minds was washed away in seconds. The moment was so cliché and, moreover, it was unexpected, but yes… this was what was right. It was right for both of them.
A/N: Aw. The romance. =)
Hopefully the title of the story is coming into view by now.
Don't be too surprised at the events in the next chapter. Something exciting has to happen, right?