Chapter 36

Dirty

It was time to butt in and defend her friend. Defend women's rights, a woman's freedom to do what—or who she pleases. Besides, Yuffie never balked at giving her opinion, and she wouldn't start now. "Don'cha think—maybe it's not your business?"

Cloud scowled at her.

"You sure she ain't been home?" Barret asked. "I mean, that don't sound like Tifa."

"The last time I saw her was Friday. You were here!" Cloud snapped. "You saw her leave."

Barret had that look, the fatherly one that promised violence for smartassery, not that Yuffie ever cowered from it, nor would Cloud. She grinned as Cloud pouted harder, if that was even possible. He had three moods: grumpy, grumpier, and angry. And three expressions: glare, stink eye, and murder.

But Barret can't be bullied. "What I saw," he began as he passed out beers he'd swiped from Tifa's fridge. Yuffie whispered a quick 'thank you' when he paused, not wanting to interrupt Barret when there was a possibility they agreed. He continued with the click and fizz of his can, "was her leave Friday night with Vincent. Not some chum off the damn street. It ain't like she's not safe—"

"That's not the problem," Cloud grumbled. "She didn't answer my call. Or my text."

Yuffie rolled her eyes at his whiney dramatics. Is he a man or a twelve-year-old momma's boy?

Small blessing the kids were playing outside instead of witnessing Cloud morph into a mewling coerl over Tifa's courage to finally get some. Perhaps she should enlighten him. Yuffie opened her mouth but stopped herself when the kids' voices filtered inside. "Tifa, look at my new shoes!"

"Those look great, sweetie!"

"Sounds like Vincent didn't break her," Yuffie said. She lifted her hands at Cloud's glare. "What?"

Cloud hissed.

When he presented his back, she continued, undaunted, "Guess we can check her for bite marks." Playing the troll was fun. "Galean beast has really sharp fangs."

Yuffie laughed with a 'heh' as Cloud clenched his fists, shoulders tight with frustration. He stomped down the hall, so Yuffie lunged to head him off. "Let's rein in your friend zone. Ok, ex-boyfriend?" She smirked at his gnashing teeth. "I'll handle this."

Barret tugged Cloud by his shirt. "Sit down, merc."

"Yeah, keep it cool, and don't accuse her of anything." Yuffie turned as Tifa spilled through the door with kids at her heels. "Where've you been all weekend?" Yuffie yelled, eyes narrowed. She felt a nudge at her arm.

"That's keepin it cool?" Barret asked. "But it ain't a wrong question." He turned that fatherly annoyance at Tifa. "Obviously, you all right. Where you been?"

"Don't get so worked up," Tifa huffed. "I was in town."

"You couldn't leave a message or answer my text?"

Yuffie snickered. Cloud had quite the nerve to ask. "Oh, like you know how to answer a message. Pfft! But seriously." She faced Tifa. "Where did you go?"

"Oh—just dancing. Then—around." Tifa grabbed snacks for the kids, pointing to the stairs for them to climb up.

"With Vincent?" Cloud spat his question.

Her answer came softly, with venom. "Molly and Pete were there, too."

Everyone quieted.

"Uh. Hey kids," Barret said, pressing his large hands at their backs. "Y'all go on upstairs and do homework or—play video games."

Their stomps faded, and Yuffie strained to hear Marlene's muffled question just beyond the landing. "Why are they fighting again?"

"How should I know?" The TV blared to life, subduing any eavesdropping. Good. The kids didn't need to hear about Tifa's presumed new demon fetish.

But the kitchen still reeked with tension too thick to slice with her shuriken. Luckily, Yuffie was a trained professional, an expert at deflection. "Dancing? And no one invited me!" She flumped into a chair and crossed her arms, eyes darting for any amused reactions.

Tifa leaned over the table, knuckles holding her weight, unamused. "And I'll be dancing with Vincent as much as we want." She glared at each of them. "Got it?" Only Yuffie nodded. The guys just didn't get it. Tifa could make choices for herself.

Cloud tried to retort, but Tifa held up a finger. "Ah! I don't think so. I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it."

The table lurched. "I'll be working on my bike," Cloud growled.

A deep sigh rumbled from Barret's chest as the younger man sulked out to the garage. "Sometimes, a dance is just a dance," he began, almost as if to himself. "But sometimes, your feet get blisters and sores—before you feel somethin's wrong. You just keep goin, enjoyin the music and rhythm—not even knowin your bleedin—"

"Oh, Barret!" Tifa finally broke. "Enough of your dumb, sage advice. There's nothing you can say we don't already know. Everything will be fine!"

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't. Don't know. I can't see the future." He rounded the table and gripped Tifa by her arms. "No one can. But I know for certain that my future is gonna be me dead and gone. Join my Myrna in the Lifestream—like how things supposed to be. And Yuffie and Reeve—you."

"Don't bring me into this!" Seriously. The guys were on their own with this one. Yuffie was done interfering; the lovebirds knew as much as anyone what fate had in store. Nothing would change that. No one could change that.

Tifa tried to look away, but Barret grabbed her chin. "We'll all be long gone. But old Vince—he'll still be here. All by his lonesome."

Tifa jerked free. "Everything," she said through clenched teeth. "Will be fine!"

Barret backed away with hands spread wide. "Said my piece." He left through the garage door, same as Cloud.

Tifa lifted a dirty plate from the table and tossed it into the sink, where it shattered.

"Well, that always makes me feel better," Yuffie joked. She peered into Tifa's face. "You good? Wanna talk about—things?"

"I just want them to—" Tifa breathed a long sigh. "I don't know what I want from them, Yuffie."

"Some friggin support? They're dumb buffoons, anyway. Who cares what they think?"

Tifa relaxed, and Yuffie pulled her into a hug when a sniffle reached Yuffie's ears. "Oh hey, friend!" Yuffie rubbed her back. "Don't do that. Cause then I'll do that."

Yuffie wiped a tear escaping down Tifa's face. "It'll take some getting used to. Right?" Tifa nodded as Yuffie continued, "This is a new thing for everybody."

A smile answered her. "Thank you, Yuffie. That means a lot."

"Good," Yuffie said, then grabbed two beers from the fridge. She kicked a chair with her foot. "Now, sit. I want details. Copious—dirty—details."

So dirty.

The gauntlet dripped blood and entrails, the beast dead at Vincent's feet.

Laboratories abounded beneath Midgar's rubble. Every time Vincent thought they'd uncovered the last, he discovered a new lair, locked behind steel doors, some large enough and strong enough to cage a behemoth or dragon.

Vincent found proof of recent activity—like one would expect if vagabonds or treasure seekers snooped where they shouldn't. Only bloody evidence remained of the trespass, their regret clawed into the floors by their fingernails.

No evil scientist, though. Nor did Vincent uncover clues to Brukho's whereabouts. It was as though he'd disappeared into the aether. Or perhaps, he'd met an untimely demise by the jaws of any number of horrors still prowling in the bowels of Midgar's shadowed ruins.

Enough searching for one day. Vincent trekked back the way he came, eager to breathe fresh air and to see a gracious bartender.

The kitchen had long cleared of curious ninjas and overprotective brother figures. Tifa never recovered her good mood after a long day spent ruminating over Cloud's anger and Barret's speeches. She wondered if the gossip reached Vincent or if he was spared by distance as he searched Midgar for labs and psychopaths.

The oven timer beeped over the bar music, and Tifa once again felt fortunate that Seventh Heaven profited enough to hire staff so that she could focus on other endeavors. Like making this pie for Molly's get-together the next day, which was no trouble for Tifa. She enjoyed catering and even considered making that her full-time business instead of serving alcohol and fried appetizers.

As she set the steaming dessert onto the counter, a pair of arms, one bound by gold, wrapped around her waist. Tifa melted into his chest. "Careful. I might get used to this."

Vincent placed a kiss below her ear. "That's the plan." She turned in his arms, intent on returning the favor. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Watchful Vincent. Now that she'd become intimate with him, she'd never get an emotion past him.

"Just—a long day. That's all," she lied.

"Want to talk about it?"

She didn't. Cloud and Barret would only grow more distrustful if Vincent was made aware. And she honestly felt a little dirty by their perception, as though she and Vincent didn't understand their own romantic feelings, naively misinterpreting lust for genuine affection.

Time would remove all doubt, she felt certain. So, no point in escalating to Vincent. There would be more to repair if that happened.

"Nothing worth mentioning. What I do want," she said, looping her arms around his shoulders. "Is dinner with nice company."

He smiled down at her and the last of her foul mood dissipated. "I'm in favor."