Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

A/N: I hope everybody liked the last chapter! I recently got into a manga that reminds me a lot of this story called Stepping On Roses – surprisingly, I didn't get any of my ideas from it haha but it's soooo similar! Check it out :) Anyway, I hope you guys like this next chapter! And please review!

Can't Buy Me Love

Chapter Three

Tifa and Yuffie stopped by the bar to change out of their nice clothes into outfits more suitable for their night's mission: to get belligerently drunk. Tifa slipped into a little black dress and heels, while Yuffie chose a backless red blouse and a short black shirt and black boots.

It was always tough to close down Seventh Heaven even for just one night – the clientele never appreciated being denied – but Tifa simply bolted the doors shut, turn off the neon "OPEN" sign, and had Barrett stay the night at the place with Marlene. The promise of princess movies and endless beer intrigued the both of them respectively.

The club was a new commodity to Edge. The name was Cutting Edge, but no one cared much about the lack of creativity – they took what they got, and this was all they had. The lack of creativity leaked all the way through the entire establishment: it had been fashioned from an old corporate building, with flashing technicolor lights and a bar next to a pulsing dance floor, unisex bathrooms, and the stairs that Tifa had never ventured up. She could guess what went on upstairs; she didn't need to see it for herself.

Sketchy was a word to sum up Cutting Edge. The floor was, thankfully, hardwood, but the walls were still uncovered concrete. The bathrooms were cleaned maybe once every two nights, and often the bouncers' sunglasses were "too dark" to see the IDs clearly.

Compared to the other partygoers, Tifa and Yuffie were dressed conservatively. Upon entering the throbbing club, Tifa saw a woman wearing booty shorts and tassels – no shirt, of course – and the man behind her wore a fishnet tank top and a banana hammock.

Tifa turned around so she didn't have to see anymore, eyes wide in shock.

"Huh?" Yuffie patted Tifa's shoulder. "Hey, what's up? You okay?"

Blinking, Tifa blew out a breath and faced the crowd. "Yeah, it's just been a while since I've been here." Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

"Heeyyy…" Yuffie furrowed her brow, putting her hands on her hips. "Tifa, you're not having second thoughts now?" At Tifa's silence, she sighed. "Hey, think about it like this: do you really think Rufus Shinra is gonna let you have a bachelorette party?"

"Probably not…" He wouldn't approve of that kind of wild behavior. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't approve of this kind of wild behavior. Just knowing that made her think twice about leaving. If he found out, he'd be furious. She couldn't help but smile.

"Exactly! So think of this like your last hurrah!"

"Hey! Get a move on!" one of the bouncers yelled at the pair. "You're holding up the line!"

"Sorry!" Yuffie shouted back, grabbing Tifa's arm and pulling her into the crowd.

The smell of sweat and cologne assaulted Tifa's nostrils immediately, and she gagged. "Yuffie! How about we get some drinks first?" Maybe that would numb her senses.

"Good call!"

Getting out of the crowd was much more difficult than getting into it. The battle was fierce, but the pair emerged, however covered in other people's sweat. Tifa was wearing a tiara – she wasn't sure where it came from.

"Wha –?" she began to say, reaching up to the bedazzled thing.

"Heeeyy~!" a voice called over the thumping bass. "We got a birthday girl!"

Yuffie looked around, for the source of the voice or the birthday girl Tifa wasn't sure. Suddenly, she felt a pressure on her arm, and before she knew it someone was tugging her forward, and Yuffie disappeared behind a wall of dancers.

"Hey! Yuffie!" Tifa called, but her voice didn't carry over the speakers. Knowing Yuffie was lost – or maybe she was the lost one – she turned her attention to the arm that was still pulling her, and the person attached to the arm. She didn't recognize the blue mohawk and green vest, and she didn't wait to get to know them. "Hey! Let go!" She tried to wrestled out of their grip and stumbled back, only to have someone catch her from behind.

"Whatcha doin', birthday girl? Get over to the bar!"

The person shoved her forward, and the crowd around her cheered and lifted their drinks, all taking their turns pushing her. Tifa hardly had to walk on her own.

With one last, hard push, Tifa staggered forward and knocked her gut against the bar table, her breath leaving her in one exhale.

"There you are! Here, one Punch, on the house! Happy birthday!"

For half a second, she expected someone to punch her, but a drink was shoved into her hand and she understood. She was jostled, a little shaken, and completely out of her element. But these people around her were cheering and whistling, and it was her plan in the first place to get drunk…

"What the hell," she said to herself, put the drink to her lips, and tilted it back.

"Happy birthday~!" the crowd around her yelled, sang, and drunkenly exclaimed. Someone batted Tifa on the back so hard she nearly spewed out her punch – she almost did anyway, with how much it burned her throat going down. What was it? Pure alcohol with food coloring? But she drank it anyway, egged on by their horribly off-key version of "Happy Birthday To You".

"Another drink, for the birthday girl!"

"Hey, sweets, how 'bout I buy you a drink?"

"Fill 'er up!"

Tifa opened her eyes, it seemed for the first time that night, and she was on the dance floor. Where had her crowd of people gone? Where was Yuffie? Did it really matter? Whatever.

There was a guy behind her; at least she assumed it was a guy with the way he was grinding his hips against her butt. She started to move away, but her head felt so hazy…

"There ya go, birthday girl…"

What? Tifa blinked, but her eyelids felt heavy. Her body felt heavy. Her knees gave under her and the man caught her, his arms under hers, and her head lolled back on his chest. She got a foggy glimpse of blue – the guy with the mohawk?

But thinking was too hard, too heavy… She closed her eyes, and everything faded to the beat of the track.

Reno didn't know how long he'd been waiting. His jaw still throbbed, and he resisted the urge to touch it. If he didn't find that girl soon…

But he didn't have time to worry about that now. A man with a blue mohawk was opening the back door of Cutting Edge, lugging an unmistakable Tifa Lockhart in his arms. "A little help here?" the man grunted out.

Reno rolled his eyes. "Please, she's not that heavy." Nevertheless, he shifted Tifa and looped an arm around her waist, carrying her outside and shutting the back door with his foot. The two men shuffled to the black unmarked car Reno had driven in and laid the unconscious girl in the backseat.

The man let out a huff as Reno shut the door. "So where's the cash, man?"

Reno smirked. "You mean spending a night with a girl like that isn't payment enough?"

The man didn't find it funny. "Maybe if she put out a bit more. Look, buddy, if this was some sort of hustle –"

"Chill out," Reno assured him. "Jeez, you slum junks and your dirty money… There." He dug out a wad of bills from his pocket and dropped it in the man's hand. "That should cover the drinks, and anything else you need."

The man smiled as he counted the money. "Send my regards to the President."

"He's not interested," Reno shot back. "You should feel lucky that the Turks even thought of you."

"Whatever, man." The man shoved the money into his pants pocket. "I've got girls to get back to." With a broad smile, he swaggered back inside the club.

Reno blew out an exasperated breath. "I'm sure you do, killer." He walked around the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat, glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping woman in his backseat. Yup, she wasn't waking up anytime soon.

He didn't like this. Where was the "better Shinra" that Mr. Prez was always talking about here? This felt just like the old days… and he didn't like the old days so much anymore. How did the Prez expect to win over the public when he was still pulling dirty tricks like this?

But it wasn't his job to question. His job was to follow orders, whatever they may be. So he revved up the engine, shoved his guilty conscience to the side, and drove.

Cloud rubbed his eyes, jumping to his feet. Who would be knocking on his door at this time of night? And who even knew where he lived?

His first thought was Tifa. Besides possibly Barrett, she was the only one who knew where his apartment was. She'd visit occasionally, sad that he'd moved out. But wouldn't she be busy with the bar this late?

Blinking the last bits of sleep from his eyes, he opened the door. "Reno?" he asked, confused, until he took in the whole picture in front of him.

Reno held an unconscious and scantily-clad Tifa in his arms. "Yo," he said.

Cloud didn't form a coherent thought – he didn't think he wanted to. All he knew was that Tifa wasn't safe and it was because of Reno. He reached to his sword by the door, but Reno was quick – he dropped Tifa's legs, holding her only under her arms, and grabbed his electric rod, pointing it at Cloud.

"Hear me out before you fight me, eh?" Reno suggested.

"What did you do to her?" Cloud demanded.

Reno sighed. "I didn't do anything. I was out tonight, and I guess we went to the same place. She was passed out drunk when I found like this."

"I don't believe you."

"Listen, if I did this, why would I be coming to you and giving her to you?" Cloud didn't have an answer. "I don't want to deal with some drunk girl tonight – she's your problem." He stepped inside and shoved Tifa against Cloud's chest; Cloud dropped his sword and caught her quickly so she wouldn't fall. "I've got better things to do." Reno was walking away before Cloud could say anything else.

Reluctantly, Cloud shut the door, getting a better hold on Tifa and bringing her into his living room. He laid her on his couch and, almost as an afterthought, draped a blanket over her still, unconscious form.

It wasn't like her to do this. To get so drunk that she passed out? Not like her at all. But what Reno had said was right: why would he help her if he had done this to her? Something must've been bothering her…

Was it the engagement? Did she really want to marry Rufus? Cloud more than suspected she didn't, but he couldn't get any concrete answers until she woke up. And who knew when that would be?

Cloud sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Nothing to do now. 'Cept wait. He glanced around, then picked a spot on the wall and sat down, closing his eyes and letting himself fall back asleep. It didn't take long.

Tifa felt pain before she realized she was awake. There was a light in front of her closed eyes and she squinted, shutting them tight, trying to block it out. Her head hurt so much… Why?

The night came rushing back to her with a flood of fresh pain. She groaned and covered her eyes with her arm, curling up, trying to block out the world. That's right – she went to the club with Yuffie. Then she lost her, and they called her a birthday girl because of the tiara. Then she drank, and then… She couldn't remember. She ended up dancing with some guy – the blue mohawk guy. And then…

She passed out. She didn't remember anything after that. And now…

Where was she? She was reluctant to open her eyes – the light hurt so bad, and her head was already throbbing with her heartbeat.

"Tifa?"

She knew that voice. Without thinking, she flung her arm away and opened her eyes, then covered them again when she was attacked by the light. "Cloud?" she asked groggily, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ow," she replied simply.

Cloud let out a small chuckle at that. "You drank so much you passed out."

"Yeah, I…" Tifa slowly removed her hands, squinting and blinking, shading her eyes. Cloud stood by the light switch and dimmed the overheads. She smiled to him in gratitude. "Last night was…"

Cloud's expression faltered. "Tifa… Last night –"

"Wait… How did I get here?"

"Well –"

"Cloud, you… You brought me here? You found me?"

"I didn't –"

Tifa furrowed her brow, piecing everything together. "Me and Yuffie went to Cutting Edge… Yuffie!" she gasped, her hands coming to her mouth. She stood up hastily, throwing the blanket off of her, and fixed her dress. "Where's Yuffie? Did she make it back okay?"

"I don't know."

"She doesn't know where I am! She must be worried!" Tifa slipped on her shoes, which she found by the couch. She tripped her way to Cloud and held him in a sloppy embrace. "Cloud, thank you so much, but I have to go." She made her way to the door, quickly. "Thank you!"

"Tifa, wait –"

Tifa threw open the door, the sunlight blinding her. But that wasn't the only thing that hurt her eyes.

Camera flashes. Hundreds of them, right in front of her face.

"Miss Lockhart! Over here!"

"Miss Lockhart, who's house is this?"

"What are you doing here, Miss Lockhart?"

"Does President Shinra know about this?"

"What?" Tifa tried her best to cover her face, but it was no use – they'd already gotten at least a hundred pictures. "Go away! What are you doing here?" A paparazzi? Already? she thought.

"Tifa!" Cloud came outside behind her, and the paparazzi seemed to let out an all-inclusive scream.

"Miss Lockhart, coming out Cloud Strife's apartment!"

"It looks like she slept over!"

"How scandalous!"

Cloud put his arm around Tifa's waist, leading her away from the crowd, but when she saw their reaction to this she pushed his arm away. He didn't seem to care. "I'll get you home," he said, and she nodded, thankful.

"President Shinra, sir."

Rufus set down his pen and folded his arms on his desk, taking care not to crinkle any papers. "What is it?"

"The paper, sir. You asked for it."

"Ah, right. Bring it here." Rufus held out his hand until the man gave him the rolled newspaper. "Leave." The man bowed, and left the room.

Rufus took his time unrolling the paper and setting it on his desk, a smile on his face. He already knew what he would see.

And there it was, staring straight back at him. The tiny seed of doubt that the public needed, enough to get them wondering.

Tifa Lockhart – messy hair, rumpled clothes and all – coming out of Cloud Strife's apartment with his arm around her waist. 'What can the President think of this?' the paper asked.