Now Taking Pillow Applications

I knew this would be rough, with Denzel in his cast and everything, but I didn't realize how rough. He's so bored. Sure, he can do some things, but not everything he wants to do. Most of the time he sits on the couch and watches TV with this bored look on his face. At least he's sleeping now.

I sigh, sitting at the end of the bar, my back resting against the wall. It's busy tonight, people in and out, laughing and loud. It's busier than your normal Thursday night, but tomorrow is a holiday, as much as the anniversary of Meteor wants to be considered a holiday. Even though it all stopped, even though everything wasn't destroyed, a lot of lives were still ended on that day; and even more lives were lost before Meteor was even brought into the picture.

Everything that surrounds Meteor was surrounded by Sephiroth, and Jenova.

Zack...and Aerith...the people of Sector Seven, hell, the people of Midgar in general. All those people, Nibelheim, Corel; and...it still didn't stop, not until the entire world was threatened. Not until it became a big enough of a deal for everyone to care, when all of their lives were at risk.

They're celebrating being alive, but we're mourning those we lost. And I think we're all still asking for forgiveness, for all those people that we caused the death of. It's one thing to have Aerith forgive me, but the people I can't ask forgiveness of; the people of the slums; and Wedge, Biggs, and Jessie.

It's been a while since I've thought of them, but I guess with this anniversary brings about the thoughts.

I sigh, slowly sipping the glass of whisky Tifa's laid out for me. I pinch the bridge of my nose hard, trying to shake these thoughts away, trying to get this off of my shoulders.

Alcohol won't help it, but it won't hurt either, at this point...and it's not like I plan on drinking much, anyways. I sigh again into my glass, glancing over at Tifa.

She's really pressed right now, and I keep bugging her to hire someone else, but she won't. I don't see why she won't, since it's obvious she could do with the help.

I guess she's as stubborn as I am.

Twisting in my seat, I bang my head up against the wall.

She'd scold me, because I'm brooding, but I can't help the fact I'm in a sour mood. I take another sip when I realize I was scowling.

I look up again, Tifa's turned away from the counter, washing at some dishes while she's got the spare time. She's been in a rather testy mood lately, too...and I'm figuring it's for the same reasons as me.

I go to take another sip of my drink, but pause as the glass reaches my lips.

What the hell does that guy think he's doing?

He's stretching over the counter, his hands brushing against the drawer to the cash register.

What does he expect to accomplish, anyways? The doors shut-

Oh...it's not.

The man leans a little farther, a little more desperate now that the money's actually in close quarters with his hand.

Oh that little thieving rat! Only Yuffie can do that and get away with it!

...Or at least thinks she's going to get away with it.

Still, I'm going to wait for that man to touch the money before I attack. Wait, that's right, no one's looking; don't worry you're okay...you got it, you got it.

BAM! CHING!

I nearly inhale my drink when I snort.

The look on the man's face is priceless as his eyes go wide, and his face turns red, and he freezes; pain is written all over his face.

Neither one of us noticed Tifa, who was still facing away from the bar, raising her foot up to kick the drawer shut. She kicked it so hard the bell on the register chimed.

And it isn't closed yet, because the man's still got his hand there.

Move it, man...she's...move it!

Bam! CHING! Bam! CHING! Bam! Ching! BAM! CHING!

There might've been a crunch in there, as well.

The last bell gives a long ring, and I watch as with each hit, the man slowly lowers his head, and bites his other fist to keep from screaming.

Oh this is priceless, and I'm still trying to figure out if Tifa knows what she's doing or if she's just that lucky.

The man slowly removes his hand, as Tifa's foot comes up again and gives the drawer one last kick before it finally clangs shut with one last ring. She dries off a glass as she turns, muttering.

"Damn drawer got jammed again."

I barely keep from snorting.

The man turns, walking away from the bar.

"Hey," Tifa barks, "Aren't you going to pay for your drink?"

The man pauses, and turns slowly pulling money out of his pocket with his good hand, and placing it on the counter.

"Keep the change..." he whispers hoarsely, sweating and panting, before heading away.

Tifa frowns, brow furrowed before shrugging and going back to serving.

It's late when the bar finally empties, staying open an hour later than normal. I take responsibilities with the kids; supper, bath, entertainment, and then putting them to bed. I'm tired when they finally fall asleep. Neither of them could go to sleep, from the noise downstairs. They're all hyped up over the people, and I kinda wonder if the realize what the big fuss is about. All they know is that they don't have to go to school tomorrow, and that suits them fine.

And also is included in the argument to let them stay up later.

Which they do.

Sighing, I help Tifa clean up around the bar. We work in silence, me working in front of the bar, her working behind it.

I finish what she wants me to, and I ask if she wants me to do anything else, and she shoos me away...tells me to go to bed.

Which I don't.

I stretch out on the couch, yawning again. It'll be a long day tomorrow. Everyone else has got the day off, but I don't. After all, with the anniversary, people will want things delivered to graves and memorials, or to family members in general.

I should really go to bed, but I'm not ready to sleep yet.

There's a whole heaviness weighing down on me and Tifa, I can feel it, and I can tell she can to. So I don't want to leave her alone.

I finger the velvet box in my pocket, mind wandering, and I yawn again, closing my eyes.

Don't sleep, don't sleep, I tell myself, and keep replaying the image of Tifa slamming that thief's hand in the drawer over and over.

It'll keep me entertained for awhile, and maybe I'll let her know what she did.

I don't even hear her walk in, just feel something press down on my stomach. I crack an eye, looking down where her head is pillowed on the top of my stomach. Her chin is pressing into my belly button, and her eyes are hidden by the curtain of hair that falls from her head.

I start to reach up, to lace my fingers in her hair, but pause. There's...something on my shirt...

Oh, oh no...Tifa...

"Tifa," it barely even escapes my lips.

She doesn't respond, just bows her head farther down, shoving her nose into my gut.

"Tifa," I repeat, and swallow.

It's hard on us all, remembering. I...there for a while, Geostigma, I just thought of my own suffering, my own guilt...and not of my friends; my family.

It's harder though, isn't it? To take on other people's suffering and their guilt.

"Tifa," she still won't look up.

I don't get why she's so scared to show me her tears, and there's no denying that she's crying. Silently, maybe, and softly, but tears are tears.

And she shouldn't have to cry, not when I'm here.

And she's not going to try and say she fell asleep and drooled on my shirt, because I wouldn't put it past her.

So I sit up, her head sliding up, forehead pressed to the hollow of my throat. I feel heat rise on my neck, fine hairs standing, but there are other things that are more important than that.

"Why won't you show me?" the words slip from my mouth.

It's almost insulting that she won't cry in front of me, honestly.

She lifts her head quickly, eyes dry, but tell tale signs of red on her nose, eyes red as well.

"Show you what?" she asks innocently.

I press my lips together to stop me from frowning.

"Tifa,"

"I need to finish cleaning up."

"You aren't done?" I ask, surprised.

She bites her bottom lip, "No."

Liar.

She goes to stand, pushing her hair back, but I reach out and grab her wrist, pulling her back down.

"Cloud..." she won't meet my eyes.

She knows I knows she's lying.

"Tifa...you said not to carry my burdens...carry it by myself...so why do you have to carry yours by yourself?"

Her head tilts slightly at my words, but she still doesn't look up.

The box digs into my hip, a reminder of what I want...the commitment I've been looking at for so long.

For something like that, we have to carry each other, don't we? She can't be the only one to be weighed down, right? She said it herself, that we could help each other. She always tries to help me...

But why won't she let me help her?

Then we're falling back as she flings her arms around my neck, knocking me off balance. My head bangs against the armrest of the couch and I wince, but I lie still as she settles down on top of me.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her breath tattooing my neck.

"Don't be," heat flushes up my face again, and I have to close my eyes.

My fingers slip beneath her shirt, brushing them lightly against her spine.

I'm taking up the job of human pillow tonight...or mattress, which ever is more suiting. I don't mind, really, pillowing her head, brushing her hair from her face. She takes care of me, so I want to pay her back, take care of her for once.

I'm good at comforting, aren't I? Okay, that was a stupid question. I don't necessarily have the words for comfort, but I do have the nice pillowy body, apparently. And it isn't all about words, that's what she taught me. She's taught me a lot, this woman. I owe her a lot, too.

I give a content sigh, and she brushes her lips against the underside of my jaw. I feel heat on my cheeks and neck again, but ignore it. That isn't what she needs right now. She needs a big, human, breathing pillow that she can cry on, even if she won't cry. At least she knows it's okay to. She's too proud to cry, but she needs to know I'm available for the job if she ever needs one.

She nuzzles my neck with her nose, grips my shirt with her fists, and I trace lazy patterns on her back until we both fall asleep.

A/N: I enjoy being cruel to customers...heh...this was a bit of everything, humor, fluff, a bit of brooding...But, it's one thing that I find that isn't ever brough up in fics, or I've just been missing out on it. no one ever talks about Meteor's anniversary. I dunno, seemed like a good idea at the time. And Tifa is too proud to cry in front of Cloud, or at least let him see it. Let's face it, she doesn't want to be seen as weak...The reason for my rather depressing writing, and lack there of? My grandfather passed last Wednesday night, so I've been rather ...distracted. But, writing helps get it out, and keeps me moving, so I'm grateful for you guys...and now you see the inspiration for "to the man that said goodbye"...but! Enough ramblings. Vin! dude, tis okay to live in a reality of your own..very popular now a days, too. Tincent! Good to hear from you again! And don't worry about it, I understand. Just glad you got to read! Calistar: Haruki! Aww, I'm sorry you suffer so, but I'm sure it's not that bad. and yes, Denzel made a temporary absence...ahem, ignore that. lord FF7: Don't fear it! Embrace it! You're probably just scared by Sephy, he's a bit violent at times. hmm, you might not be talking to the best person about writing. Sometimes, I just sit down and force myself to write, even if it's complete BS, and then I read it, and I'm like...that sucks, and get inspiration to right something worthy of reading. Rhyssa! Even I don't know if Tifa saw it! ; Bianka! more contemplating..and the past, tis dangerous for Cloud...but it is a part of him. Taco! Good to hear from you again! Oh, and before you tell me, I know pillowy isn't a word, so back off! Well, hope you all enjoyed this chappie, Later loves!