Disclaimer: Final Fantasy does not belong to me...however much I may like it to. I own no characters, places etc. etc. so please don't sue me! I'm a nice person :)
Author's Note: Chapter Eight...PLEASE review as I really enjoy reading your views and they inspire me to get better! It would make me very very happy! Anyway stop reading this and get on with reading the fic! Hope you enjoy! :)
Chapter Eight: Day Dreams and Unseen Distractions
The air whipped at the outer hem of the young woman's skirt, making it billow gently against the bare skin of her smooth, toned legs, and the brunette locks that fell loosely about her face, brushed lightly upon her uncovered shoulders, causing her senses to tingle with a sort of ticklish delight.
A strong, suited arm snaked its way around her slender waist and pulled her soft, curvaceous body forwards, towards its owner tentatively, but also with a hint of demanding desire and when the two forms collided, there was a definitive sigh of contentment from both their lips.
A cloak of starry twilight had seemingly wrapped itself around the pair, whom began to almost dance around the balcony on which they stood, their bodies floating with a graceful ease, as though neither had weight or density, yet each could feel the gentle pressure applied from one another's touch.
When the two twirling forms finally stopped, all be it through need rather than want, the young man held the brunette up against the marble white wall, her back pressing up upon the cold surface, whilst her warming breath escaped past her lips and brushed softly against the icy, pale skin of her partner.
A few strands of his white blonde hair strayed down in front of his almost sky blue eyes, which gazed into her own crimson tinted orbs with an intensely passionate, and powerful hunger, increased immensely by the authoritative confidence, that seeped from every inch of his beautifully perfect face.
The close proximity of his body to her own, was teasingly unbearable and soon his soft smirk was a mere breath away from her own gentle smile, and as his lips reached out, brushing ever so lightly upon her own, he whispered her name over and over in a delicately seductive, velvet soft tone, ''Tifa...Tifa...Tifa...''
''TIFA!'' The high pitched squeak that was forcefully sounded from the young ninja'slips, resonated around the bartender's ear drums, snapping her out of her mindless day dream and into the reality of the present.
Yuffie glared at her noticeably dazed friend with an overall look of annoyance, yet with a hint of unimpressed disdain, ''Have you been listening to me at all!...''
Tifa ran a set of five, nervously fidgeting fingers through her darkened locks and rather unconvincingly sighed, ''Yeah...''
A solitary eyebrow raised upon the young ninja's face, ''Oh yeah? So you won't mind telling me what we were talking about then...''
''...Maaatteria?'' Her face was clenched slightly, her hopeful uncertainty showing through in her tentatively lingering slur.
Yuffie shook her head in an exaggerated form of unimpressed disappointment, and proceeded to wail dramatically at the brunette, ''I was talking about my incredibly cool new ninja skills!...You twonk!''
Tifa curled her upper lip in a tired sort of half smile, ''Sorry Yuffie...I'm just...feeling a little out of it lately...'' Her gaze lowered as she reached down to pick up one of the leaflets which littered the bar top, ''It's probably got something to do with all this.''
Displayed clearly upon the front of the shiny, glossy publicity creator was the printed phrase ''Seventh Heaven's Grand Re-Opening after New Refurbishment'' And underneath that, in much smaller, italics letters were the words, ''Funded exclusively by President Shinra''.
The whole thing had been rather unexpected, and when she had received the box of leaflets she'd felt both a mix of confusion, anger, frustration and excitement. It wasn't that she didn't like the new look bar, after all, it had been created for her, without the brunette having to lift a single finger in effort, but then that had consequently meant that it had somewhat been stripped of the personality and atmosphere, which she had lovingly injected into the first, original design.
It was nice though, and in actual fact, it reminded her slightly of the young President's office; clean cut, modern, simple colours, with lots of symmetrical lines and, of course, very much organised.
The floor was a darkened, polished wood, almost black in shade, which matched the bar top, shelves, alcohol holders and the door perfectly, yet the rest of the furniture was a pale, soft cream, and seemingly balanced out the hard tone of the wood rather skilfully.
The room was also decorated with simple, yet clearly expensive items, including chrome spot lights and four delicately sculptured, glass flowers, fixed to each corner of the bar, the petals deep purple in shade, with both yellow and black, prong like shapes in their centres.
The young ninja rubbed the rounded, bottom edge of her chin, seemingly musing over some newly arisen thought, ''You sure he isn't doing all this coz he's in love with you or something?''
Tifa almost choked on her own gasp of shock, ''What?''
''Well...he sent you flowers...took you out to dinner...and then paid for your bar to be done up...sounds like he's interested in you more than just another one of his common victims...''
''Poppycock...'' Although she was smirking, the brunette's tone had been more than a little under-confident in its conviction, and this hint was only enforced further by her rather nervously added statement; ''Anyway...I hardly know him...''
The ninja shrugged casually and sighed out a deep, lingering breath, ''So?''
Tifa laid one firm, angered hand upon her hip, ''He's pompous!'' She now raised a finger from her free hand, and began motioning gestures, as if she was delivering an empowering speech, ''...Egotistical!'' Her voice rose in both tempo and volume, ''...Power hungry! Not to mention, incredibly-''
She was cut off by the rather inappropriately excited ninja, whom had jumped up with a deviously cheeky smirk plastered upon her soft, young face, ''Handsome, youthful, successful, and deliciously LOADED!''
Tifa raised an rather unimpressed, dubious eyebrow, ''You don't really understand the concept of morals do you?...''
By eight o'clock that evening, the newly opened bar was bustling with activity, slowly filling to the rim with customers, mostly suited and booted to an impressive standard, and yet almost none, apart from an odd few, actually old regulars.
Although the newer, more unknown customers, were posh and quite obviously rich in the amount of money they spent on both their clothes and their drinks, Tifa couldn't help but hope that the poorer, and as such, friendlier customers that graced her bar just a few weeks previous, would return in time.
The brunette handed a tray, with a group's drinks order balanced upon it, to their supposed leader, who, much to her dislike, seemed to have a rather large stick up his ass, causing him to both insult and flirt outrageously with her, in rhythmic succession.
She couldn't help but let out a sigh of, previously withheld, relief as the young man walked away, and within moments the brunette returned to piling up the dirty glasses behind the bar top.
The bell from above the bar door (the only thing she'd managed to put back up since the redecoration) signalled the entrance of a new customer with a gentle tinkle, and Tifa glanced away from her work and up to the sound's culprit, allowing her curiously to briefly overtake her need to clean.
The sight which her crimson tinted gaze met with, pleasantly surprised the bartender; the familiar, if rather unexpected face of the young woman, filled her with some sense of comfort, knowing, at least from the brief time she spent within her company, that she was nice, and friendly, at least compared to the other customers that is.
Before the newly entered woman could even begin to observe her surroundings, Tifa was waving her over to the bar enthusiastically, ''Jane!''
She seemed surprised that the bartender had remembered her name, but was more than a little mortified that she was calling her over rather loudly, causing the attention of many a customer, and the young woman proceeded as quickly as she could, across the room and to the bar, hoping that when she got there, the curious stares would be averted.
Jane smiled lightly, ''Hello Miss. Lockhart.''
''Oh, please...call me Tifa, kay?''
She nodded her head in agreement, the light brown, almost blonde, locks which were pinned and clipped back by a tortoiseshell clip, becoming ever so slightly loose with the motion.
''What can I get you?''
''Just an orange juice please.''
Tifa soon returned with a glass of the bright yellow substance, and as she handed it to the young woman, she couldn't help the curious, yet also confused arch which formed upon her brow, ''If you don't mind me asking...how come you're here?...It's just...you don't exactly strike me as a bar type of person...''
Jane didn't seem offended by the bartender's question at all and instead shone her a genuinely honest smile, ''Well I saw your leaflet...and seeing as I am the President's secretary...it seemed only natural that I should show my face.''
''Makes sense...'' As the young woman took a tentative sip of her drink, Tifa decided to push something that she'd wanted to inquire about since the moment she'd met the young secretary, ''Jane...can I ask you something?''
She looked ever so slightly intrigued at her request, ''Yes, of course.''
''What's it like to work for Rufus?''
Her reaction was almost comical in its nervousness, ''I...I don't know if I should...I mean...I not sure whether I should be...you know...gossiping...and about my boss-''
Tifa silenced her with singularly playful flash of the eyes, ''Oh come on, just between us girls...''
There was a pause of more than a few seconds as Jane seemingly mulled it over, and much to the bartender's delight, she seemed to cave, ''Well actually...he's quite nice...not always verbally of course...not that he's mean...just... sometime he can be a bit...rude...occasionally...''
Tifa raised a disbelieving eyebrow at this, which caused the young woman to sigh, ''Ok, most of the time...but he thanks me for good work...and he...well was especially...understanding...over my need for time off a few months ago when my mother...well she, she got ill...''
The brunette leaned further upon the bar, drawing her face closer and muttering, trying desperately to mask her growing interest, ''Go on...''
The pair continued to talk for over an hour, their conversation subject almost completely focused on the President, with Jane slowly becoming more open and verbal with every sip of orange juice, which, unknown to her, the young brunette had spiked with the smallest amount of rum, in a genuine desire to attempt to help the young woman loosen up.
It was only when she caught sight of the retro styled clock hanging above the bar, that she ceased with the conversation and began gathering up her bag, ''Oh my...I should really be going!''
Just as Tifa opened her mouth to begin protesting, the bar door swung open to reveal the red headed Turk, whom proceeded to stroll up to the bar top, with his cheeky, trademark smirk formed upon his thin lips, ''Yo darling!...Well isn't this swanky...can't believe Rufus actually paid for all this...must be going bonkers or something...''
When Reno reached the pair, his eyes darted somewhat disbelievingly at the young secretary, ''Woah! Jane, what are you doing here? Well...I must say I'm impressed...I didn't think you even knew the meaning of the word fun!...I always imagined you staying home in the evening, knitting...bobble hats or something!''
Jane glared at the red head for no more than a fraction of a second, before turning to the brunette and mouthing something that looked like, ''I'll come by again another time...'', and then proceeded to swiftly exit the bar.
Tifa shifted her gaze to her new, very much familiar customer and sighed in an almost slightly amused exasperation, ''Reno...''
The young Turk on the other hand just looked at her, mouth agape and eyebrows contorted in complete befuddlement, ''What? What did I say?''
Meanwhile, later that night...
The clacking of the young woman's heels against the hard, cold pavement, echoed down the empty street, which was bathed in a darkened orange glow, radiating softly from the towering lights seemingly hovering in symmetric patterns along the walls of the houses which lined the area.
An array of spindly, thin shadows managed to blacken out the sections of the concrete and brick, and gave the street an eerie, hollow feeling, as if each and every house that resided there was void of all life, and that she, Jane, was completely alone.
Every small rustle made her skin tighten and shiver in nervous paranoia, her mind battling to convince her trembling body and fear induced thoughts that it was just a stray, dried leaf, whose lightened structure was easily put into motion by the presence of a light breeze.
A few, thin strands of light brown locks fell forward, slipping their way out from the tortoiseshell hair clip, and brushing against the skin of her slightly reddened cheeks and as she let out a breath of air to escape their grasp, a whitened billow appeared, like a miniature cloud, caused by the cold, icy air which had formed since the sky had darkened.
Her pale, light jade shaded eyes, darted from door to door, searching for the familiar silver plated number, which would signal to her that she had finally arrived home at last, and would soon be safe, inside within the thick, comforting walls, that would lock out the chill and keep the cimmerian shadows from her.
After only a few more ample steps, the young woman found herself standing in front of her desired destination, and quickly dove her petite, slender hand into the small, black leather handbag hanging from her shoulder and soon drew out a set of golden bronzed keys.
The metal was warm against the chilly, soft skin of her fingertips, almost likeable to the feeling of snow cold feet on a newly made hot water bottle, painful, but also numbing.
Jane's fingers fumbled with the many keys attached to the chain, trying desperately to find the correctly shaped unlocking device, which had been carved specifically for her house, and her house alone.
In a matter of seconds she had slipped the item into the small, black hole and with a definitively satisfying click, the door came away from the frame ever so slightly, as the lock broke it's hold, allowing the young woman to gently enlarge the gap and slip through, before proceeding to use her shoulder to nudge it back into place, sounding another click, though this time to signal to her that it was bolted and locked once again.
As she slide out of her heels, and let her jacket fall away from her form, she sighed tiredly, proceeding to pull her hair free from the restraints of the clip and let it fall about her shoulders, making her face suddenly seem more relaxed, as the sides were no longer being pulled or strained.
The feeling of calming relaxation that Jane had started to experience, unfortunately, only lasted for the brief time which it took her to stroll from the entrance hall to the door, which lead to the living room.
As she curled her gripping fingers around the door knob, a foreboding chill shot up her spine, and her eyes narrowed for slightest of seconds, as if her brain was trying to process how realistic, or likely it was that her fear was coming more from her lone vulnerability at that moment, rather than an actually threat, though the moment the door creaked away from her and out into the room, her mind went blank, and she was unable to stop both the silent gasp that escaped her lips, and the widening of her eyes from behind the glassy surface of her gold rimmed frames.
All coherent thoughts seemed to evaporate in an invisible flash, as though a wall or curtain had been pulled away to reveal something completely unexpected, but also completely unwanted.
The standing man didn't make eye contact with her at all, and instead retained his focus, seemingly unblinking, upon the wall opposite him, his eye line only centimetres from her own, though his did not, even for a moment, shift to hers, like he was hypnotised, or controlled, and only when her eyes began to slowly scan the room, did she seem to begin to understand his formal, guarding nature.
His right hand was firmly placed upon his knee, balanced on top of his crossed position, his body leaning against the back of the sofa, with the elbow of his left arm, lazily resting across the back of the piece of furniture, with his skin almost gently brushing against the smooth surface of the neighbouring wall, by which it was pressed to.
The mere presence of him within her own home seemed threatening, and in fact, in her mind, there was no doubt that it was meant to be so.
She couldn't bring herself to speak, and instead stayed rooted to the spot, unmoving; not that her nerve ridden body would have allowed her to move an inch, even if she'd tried.
When the young man spoke, there were no hints of warmth, and even his all to familiar smirk of authoritative arrogance was non-existent, and instead in its place there was a icy, penetrating glare, as if he was trying, with much difficultly to suppress a surge of anger, ''Ms. Taylor...I'm afraid we have a problem. ''
The next morning in Tifa Lockhart's flat...
Reno yelped like seagull, as his limp, dazed body collided, rather painfully, with the hard, uncomfortable surface of the living room's hardwood flooring.
''Ergh...'' His muffled sigh slash groan was due to both the soon to be bruised skin from the side of impact, and the heavy pang resonating around his skull, almost as if his head was a giant bell and something had just caused it to chime erratically.
As his eyes flickered open to allow him to fully view his surroundings, a pair of bare, clearly feminine feet appeared within his line of vision.
I knowing, teasingly playful smirk formed upon his thin, slightly dried lips, I know those toes... Immediately the young Turk's memory cleared, the previous nights alcohol consumption, not enough to cloud his mind completely, and in an instant he knew exactly where he was.
Reno smiled gratefully without raising his aquamarine gaze, and from his very fuzzy feeling throat, managed to croak out; ''Thanks Tif.''
He heard the distinctive rustle of magazine pages, and without looking, he almost felt her warm, friendly, if a little disapproving gaze upon him, and the sound she made in response, seemingly enforced this assumption, ''Hm.''
The red head hauled himself from his flat, lying position and sat himself down, so he was leant against the back of the sofa, with his legs being held by the top of the coffee table, much to the young woman's annoyance, ''So then...how much did I drink this time before I passed out?''
Again without actually looking at her, Reno could feel her face contort and a single eyebrow raise in a sort of befuddlement, ''You didn't pass out Re...you were knocked out...''
It was then that the young Turk caught sight of his reflection in the blackened surface of the Television screen, which was directly opposite him, but half camouflaged by the coffee table which was placed in front of it, ''Huh.'' Ok...maybe my memory isn't that unaffected
His face was particular red on the upper left side, the delicate skin that surrounded his eye was rather swollen, and parts had begun to turn a purple tinted black, with the outer edges taking on a greenish hue. Reno suddenly couldn't help but feel a little bit glad that he couldn't actually remember the incident; the embarrassment of him, a trained, supposedly lethal Turk, being knocked out by a mere, everyday customer was a particular memory he didn't want in his brain's personal storage cupboard.
Tifa lowered her magazine, and grimaced slightly as she observed his wounded face, not to mention his wounded pride, and attempted to offer some sort of consolation ''He was...quite big...and you were...quite drunk.''
When all she received in response was a rather disbelieving huff, she decided to try some reasoning, ''You have a habit of getting on people's nerves...'' Though again when all she got was a effortless huff, she raised a solitary eyebrow for the second time that morning and before she took a bite from the previously untouched bacon sandwich that had laid upon the plate, balanced in her lap, she muttered, rather sarcastically, under her breath, ''Though I can't imagine why...''
Unfortunately for her, Reno's hearing was better than she'd given him credit for, and within seconds a teasingly cheeky smirk had appeared upon his bruised face, as a plan formed in his mind.
Before the brunette could think or react in any way, Reno had bolted, like the truly spry Turk he was, from his position on the floor, and had, in the swiftest of motions, grabbed the warm, meat filled sandwich from her own loosened grasp.
Tifa's face turned almost as red as the young Turk's hair, and she let out a fury induced bellow, ''This isn't helping your case Reno!'' But her comment was futile, as by this point, he was already half way down the stairs, heading for the bar, and the door proceeding it.
She quickly dashed from the room and attempting to chase after him, if not really for her sandwich, then for her self-respect; she wasn't the type to let a man get the better of her.
When she arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she almost crashed through the archway, which lead to the bar, at full pelt, though when she entered the space, she stopped immediately, having to somewhat grind her heels to a halt, as if her body was like a propelled wheel suddenly needing to brake.
Reno was stood in the middle of the bar, his body facing her, but his eyes darting around the room's walls and corners as though seeing or detecting something peculiar, particularly noted by his furrowed brow, showing him to be confused, suspicious and yet also deep in thought.
She approached him tentatively, his form unmoving, and his usually alert senses either not recognising her or choosing not to react to her presence in the slightest, his mind seemingly too busy or too distracted with his own musings, ''Are...are you ok?''
After a few moments of silence, the red head answered her, his voice soft and distant, and his aquamarine gaze continuing to survey the room, as if searching for something, ''Yeah...just...'' He paused in a sort of un-surety, his mind undecided on what to say, or rather what he should say.
The brunette's own brow arched, though hers in concern, and curiosity as to why her friend was acting in such an aloof manner, and after observing his actions for a couple more quite moments, she could have sworn he was trying to pick up, or detect something with his ears rather than his eyes.
Within that moment of realisation, her concern for himsuddenly turned into concern for her bar, which shone through both her widened eyes and her insistent tone, ''What is it? What's wrong?''
It was only then that the young Turk met her gaze, though only for a swift second, before he shifted it again, and muttered, almost too quietly for Reno, ''Nothing...'' He proceeded to throw the stolen item back to her, which she of course, with her alert reactions, caught perfectly and then again, he muttered distractedly, all be it slightly louder this time, to his brunette friend, ''I'll see you later.''
And with that, the red head strolled quickly out of the bar, leaving an incredibly curious, not to mention utterly confused Tifa once again alone, with a rather cold, mangled sandwich grasped within her hand.
A/N= I know, not much Rufus in this at all, but again, like I've said before, he isn't gunna be in every chapter...plus the last two have been mainly Tifa/Rufus focused, so I thought a break was needed, plus there was a lot of stuff I needed to get in before continuing with any more Tifa/Rufus stuff...anyway, hope you liked it :) Oh and in the dream sequence at the beginning, it isn't actually suppose to be competlely Rufus, it's just a day dream, though it is meant to imply that subconsciously she is beginning to feel some sort of attraction to him...if that makes any sense at all...probably not...dang
Oh and also I'm sorry I took me so long to get out...I haven't slept like a normal person for months now...