The streetlights in Edge flickered as Cloud rode deeper into the city. Electricity was still unstable at times, although not nearly as bad as it had been in its early days when blackouts were a weekly occurrence. Not that lighting mattered. Cloud knew these streets better than anyone.

He slowed as he turned onto the alleyway behind Seventh Heaven. Its garage was just big enough to store supplies for the bar and for Cloud to park his motorcycle. It was also the only way to access the private living area without going through the bar. The garage door and the interior door had heavy locks. The interior one was also reinforced with a security bar that could only be opened from inside. Its installation had been the result of an argument, the worst Cloud and Tifa had ever had.

When he called Tifa to let her know he would be home a bit after midnight, she told Cloud she would leave the bar up so he could let himself in. He wished she would not but had bitten his tongue. A few hours of lapsed security between nightfall and his return were not worth starting a potential fight. Perhaps Cloud was learning after all. Besides, all the more reason to get back quickly.

He had been unable to read Tifa's tone when they had spoken briefly over the phone that afternoon. Cloud usually avoided calling during busy times at the bar, but he felt he had delayed too long already. Tifa had been distracted, working through what sounded like an especially hectic lunch rush. Apologizing, she eventually handed the phone off to Marlene and Denzel so she could attend to customers.

That conversation had been equally unproductive. The children, overjoyed at Cloud's imminent return, had simultaneously shouted their excitement into the phone. Eventually they opted to take turns, each only allowing the other thirty seconds or so with the phone before reclaiming it. Cloud's brain, pounding from the ghost of his hangover, struggled to follow the thread of two separate conversations.

Cloud wondered what time the children had fallen asleep. Denzel and Marlene were enthusiastic about the idea of staying up late. They would beg Tifa to let them, and she would pretend to put up a fight. She usually gave in, knowing that they would not last longer than an hour past their typical bedtime. Many times, Cloud had carried an overly ambitious, sleeping child up to bed from various spots around the house and bar.

Tifa had left the back light on for him. Soft lights were also still glowing in the windows above. The street was quiet and sleepy, all other buildings darkened. Cloud paused for a moment in the alleyway. He never could quite pinpoint the feeling he got when he arrived back at Seventh Heaven after being away. It was a sense of calm contentment, a warmth in his chest. It was a feeling that could only be described as coming home.

Cloud unlocked and opened the garage door as quietly as he could and unloaded the supplies from the saddlebags on his bike. Tifa and the kids would help him sort through everything in the morning. For now, it would be fine stacked against the wall. One box he placed carefully on top of the smallest stack, where he was sure the kids would go first. He parked Fenrir inside before closing and locking the door behind him.

The door to the house opened to a laundry room that Tifa often called the muck room. True to its name, a pair of each of the children's pants were soaking in the basin sink. Based on the dark stains on their seats, the children had attempted to slide down something they should not have. Cloud slipped off his boots, leaving them on the rack by the door. The door, he double locked, first with the latch, then with the security bar.

He was home.

Cloud breathed in the smell of laundry soap and the fainter scent of Tifa's cooking wafting through from the bar area. The house was quiet, but there was a soothing, consistent noise that must have been the television running at low volume. Cloud could just barely hear soft footsteps and rustling around, likely Tifa tidying up.

His heart was pounding, Cloud realized. He moved into the house before he could decide whether it was due to excitement or nerves.

The living room was dimly lit by a single lamp. The television was also on, its light dancing on the small, inert bodies of two sleeping children on the sofa. Their heads were on either end, their legs meeting in the middle. Cloud smiled and treaded carefully past.

A small office separated the living room from the bar area. It was here Tifa kept track of inventory and revenue. On occasion, she would sit at the desk to jot down ideas for recipes. Given that it was the passageway between work and home, it also sometimes turned into a dumping ground for various items. Toys that should not have been left in the bar. Glasses that should not have been taken into the house.

Tifa must have spent the evening organizing the space because she was wiping the desk down now, empty for once of misplaced things. The shelves, Cloud noticed, also looked uncharacteristically in order. She turned quickly as Cloud approached, sweeping her hands out before placing them triumphantly on her hips.

"Well?" she asked.

Cloud gave an impressed nod. "I give it a day."

"That's generous," Tifa said. "I figured it might only last the morning."

She moved closer to lean against the opposite side of the wall from Cloud. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, like she often wore it to sleep. She was wearing loose, comfortable clothes. The kind Cloud knew all too well would feel insubstantial, yet buttery soft between his hands and her skin if he touched her.

Cloud's throat felt suddenly dry. He was paralyzed in the doorway. On the road, he had mulled over all the different things he might say to Tifa to broach the complicated topic of their relationship. He had not given any thought to what he would do in this moment, though, when he first saw her again. Which was especially unfortunate because the sight of her had emptied his head of coherent thoughts.

What did he usually do when he came home? He recalled hugs, pecks on the cheek, sometimes a lingering kiss from happier times before. But the more recent memories were less happy. In those days, he had left longer and longer, returning later and more sporadically. Tifa had rarely been awake when he returned, although sometimes she had tried. He would find her asleep on the sofa, even at a booth in the bar, her head resting against the table.

Tifa was studying him now, head tilted. She was smiling, but it was not quite the smile he had longed for when he had been away on the road. It was hesitant, uncertain. For weeks, he had assumed that hesitancy meant she needed space.

But the look in her eyes as she watched him now threw him off. It was a wistful look that seemed to match his own, almost unbearable longing. He had been holding back from her, trying to take it slow, to respect her need for time. Had she been doing the same for him?

With Tifa standing close, with that look in her eyes, it all felt incredibly stupid.

Cloud took a step closer. He reached for her with one hand, a thrill going through him at the thin slip of fabric and the firm warmth of her waist beneath. Tifa's tentative smile slipped, her lips parting. When her eyes fluttered shut, he felt a surge of triumph that for the first time in weeks, he knew exactly what Tifa wanted from him.

He rested his other hand on the wall by her face and leaned close, letting their breath mingle for a moment before brushing his lips lightly against hers. Tifa's hands, now resting against his torso, fisted into his shirt. Sensing her impatience, he pressed closer. He kissed her deeply and she reciprocated, her body pliant and familiar against his.

When Cloud pulled back, they were both breathless. Tifa's cheeks were flushed. Cloud realized he was grinning like a fool but did not particularly care. She was smiling now too, and now it was the same smile he had pined for every night on the road. The one he had drunkenly waxed poetic about to Cid and Shera and would likely be teased mercilessly about for the rest of his life.

Tifa teeth dragged across her bottom lip, and he reconsidered. It was not quite the same smile. No, this one had him itching to reach for the door to the living room and pull it shut. To lift her up against the wall and slip his hands under the bottom of her flimsy shirt.

Distantly, Cloud remembered that they were supposed to have a serious talk. They had bypassed these conversations before by falling into bed together. Or the grass. The sofa. Anywhere, really. It had worked for them, right? For a while, anyways. Talking seemed like such a waste when there were so many other things they could do with their mouths.

Tifa, hands still lingering at his side, gave him a playful jab.

"Looks like someone is feeling better," she said.

The words, while not quite the cold shower he needed, reactivated the corner of Cloud's brain capable of shame. The past twenty-four hours came back to him. He recalled that he had, in fact, been so anxious about the state of things between them that he had gotten too drunk to call home last night. Cloud tried not to cower.

"Did I sound that bad on the phone?"

Tifa touched her fingers lightly to his cheek. "You've sounded worse."

She was right. Tifa had seen him at his absolute lowest. She had seen him break worse than most people ever broke, stood by his side when he was little more than an empty husk. Tifa had seen the deepest corners of his mind and heart. And after everything, he had left her.

And yet, here she stood in the hallway of a home that was somehow theirs. The most beautiful girl in Nibelheim that he had been certain he could never deserve. Looking at him like she would not mind one bit if he gave into his baser instincts from before.

Her hand still hovered at his cheek. He cupped the back of it with his own and turned his face to press a kiss into her palm. When he turned his face back to her, she was watching him curiously, taken aback by his sudden tenderness. I'll make things right between us, Cloud promised silently. I will.

"Um," Tifa said, suddenly shy. "I can heat something up for you. If you're hungry?"

Cloud released her hand slowly.

"Yeah, that'd be great, if you don't mind."

Tifa nodded, smiling again. "No problem, if you don't mind mystery stew."

At this, Cloud laughed. Mystery stew was what Marlene had dubbed Tifa's dinners when supplies ran low at Seventh Heaven. It always tasted delicious, but if you asked what was in it, she demurred. Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Denzel had initially been unamused. It did not help that Marlene, annoyed at being left out of a secret, had pondered aloud why Seventh Heaven never had any rats. Tifa had reassured Denzel quickly that "mystery stew" was mostly whatever dried goods they had left, usually beans and spices.

"Mystery stew it is," Cloud agreed. "Do you want me to carry the kids up to bed?"

"Would you?" Tifa asked. "I was going to, but they always wake up for me. You're much better at it than I am. And besides, they're getting big."

She gave him a quick smile and disappeared into the darkened bar. Cloud moved back into the house, stunned that Tifa thought he was more competent than her at anything that had to do with the children.

Cloud scooped Denzel up first, realizing that what Tifa had said was true. He had grown a lot in the past weeks, since he had been cured. But much to his own dismay, Denzel was still slight for his age. Cloud watched him for a moment after he placed him carefully into bed. His forehead, clear of disease, was relaxed. He slept the dreamless, bone-deep sleep of a kid well-loved and exhausted from a day of mischief.

Marlene was next. Her, Cloud handled like a bomb that might detonate if he brushed the wall the wrong way while ascending the stairs. She felt light as a feather in his arms, deceptively tiny and sweet. When Cloud placed her in bed, she stretched out immediately, spreading her arms and legs like a starfish.

Cloud smiled wryly, thinking about the early days right after Barret had left for Corel. Missing Barret, Marlene had sometimes crept into bed with Tifa and him, burrowing in between. She had been even smaller then, but somehow managed to contort her body into shapes that took up maximal space in the bed while also ensuring that Cloud would wake, not to the sweet smell of Tifa's hair, but a child's foot in his face.

He lingered in the children's darkened room for a moment, listening to them breathe. As Tifa said, they were getting big, and even when little, Marlene could take up an absurd amount of space. However, they never seemed so small and vulnerable to Cloud as when they were fast asleep.

That same soft vulnerability had shaken Cloud so deeply before. In truth, he had gotten used to carrying the children to bed with care because, before, he had been certain that he might break them. And Tifa. The way she looked on quiet evenings at home in her loose-fitting clothes that clung in all the right places. With her hair swept up, the curve of her neck looked impossibly delicate. It had all been so comfortable, and sweet, and intimate.

He had tried to remind himself how Tifa had looked amid battle, armored up and bloodied. Smirking at Cloud and daring him with her own recklessness. He tried to remember that Marlene had grown up in the Sector Seven Slums. That Denzel had been scavenging alone in the streets before Cloud found him.

They were all fighters, survivors. But they were Cloud's family. Seeing them that way had changed him. It had driven him mad with fear. And so, he picked fights with Tifa about break-ins and installing extra locks on the doors. He avoided the children, distracting himself with deliveries and long nights on the road that kept him out past their bedtime.

Cloud left the room and shut the door quietly behind him. He was not running anymore, but the truth was, he was still afraid. He was afraid all the time. Cloud thought about what Shera had told him earlier that morning about her, and Cid, and fear. He thought about all the things he had considered saying to Tifa as he made the trip home.

After a brief stop to wash up a bit and change, Cloud headed back downstairs to Tifa.

Tifa wiped down a counter that was already so clean it sparkled. In fact, the entire bar was spotless. Even the floors were gleaming. Seventh Heaven had been bustling until closing, so much that Tifa had hardly a spare moment to think. When the last customer left, the children had kept her busy, overexcited for Cloud's return. But eventually, even they had calmed, content to lounge on the sofa in front of the television quietly if it meant they could try to stay up late.

As soon as the house had quieted, Tifa's thoughts had gotten loud.

Though she missed him, Cloud leaving for his extended delivery trip had been somewhat of a relief. The two of them had been orbiting one another for over two weeks. Despite the tension between them, they had settled back into a reasonable rhythm of family life with the kids. Denzel and Marlene, who were beyond thrilled to have Cloud home again, had filled the awkward space that opened between Tifa and Cloud with their energy, enthusiasm, and endless questions.

Almost, anyways.

Small moments of discord haunted Tifa. Cloud would shift from his seat, right as Tifa had been just about to join him on the couch. Tifa would feel Cloud's gaze on her, and look up to meet it, just as Cloud averted his eyes. She would be absorbed in some task and he would come up behind her. Rather than relaxing into him as she might once have, she would jump, betrayed by her hypervigilant body.

They still slept together at night. And only slept.

All four of them had been working day in and out to help Edge recover from the attack. Edge had been built ground up by survivors of Meteor, refugees without a home who had little to claim but their own resolve. It was a step up from the slums, but still rough around the edges. Either way, it was theirs. Neighbors took care of one another, lending supplies or food or a helping hand. The current damage was all of their problem and they worked together to rebuild, unphased by the challenge. It was what they did best.

The work was all encompassing, reminding Tifa of their early days when they had built Seventh Heaven from scratch. At night, they only had enough energy to eat, clean up, and fall into bed to sleep. Just as well. It seemed Tifa and Cloud could barely make eye contact with one another properly. Anything more intimate seemed out of the question.

It was Tifa's fault, she knew.

When they had finally been truly alone for the first time, the house theirs for an entire night, Cloud and Tifa had practically collided. They had been unable to keep their hands off one another. It had been so long.

Their reunion had been perfect. There were no awkward fumbles or whispered redirects. They had been together long enough to know exactly how the other wanted to be touched and parted long enough that old tricks sparked new passion. Cloud and Tifa had made love as vehemently as they had their first night together, when they had been desperate to have as much of one another as they could before they died.

After, Tifa's whole body had been shaking – in the best of ways. Having the house to themselves for an entire night was a luxury. She had been ready to lie next Cloud, as their heartrates slowed, and their breathing evened back out. To bask in the gentle caresses and languorous conversation they so rarely got to enjoy after sex. Perhaps they would make love again, really take their time.

Instead, Tifa had ruined everything.

She still could not fully comprehend how or why. One minute she had been curled into Cloud's shoulder, her fingers trailing up his arm. She had thought to say something sweet. I'm so glad you're here. That you're okay. You know I love you, don't you?

That was not what happened. Tifa still could not stand to think about the torrent of tears that burst out of her. Worse than tears. Gasps, sobs. In bed, naked, her nose running, unable to catch her breath. She must have looked frightful.

Cloud had been kind, attentive. Even still, she could not look him in the eyes. It had been the beginning of this new phase of disconnection. Ever since, he had seemed afraid to touch her, and Tifa could hardly blame him. She had effectively, what felt like permanently, killed the mood.

Cloud's weeklong trip had been entirely out of practicality. Supplies and funds were low. Tifa had not charged anyone for food or drink in days, tending to those most affected by the damage and the new stream of pilgrims seeking to be cured of Geostigma. Seventh Heaven had also often been closed for business, so they could help with rebuilding.

But Tifa had also hoped the week would serve as a reset for them. They would spend some time away from one another, and when Cloud returned, they would be better. Tifa had hoped for it so intensely, that in the hours before Cloud's arrival, she had been jittery, unable to stay still. She had deep cleaned the entire bar. Soaked dishes that had accumulated water spots. Wiped down tables and chairs. Swept and mopped the floors.

And then, when it felt like she had run out of things to clean, she moved onto the office between the bar and the house. That was always a mess.

It was there that Cloud had found her. And to Tifa's delight, their words to each other were easy. Light. There had been a moment, just one, of hesitation. But then, that kiss. She had been overwhelmed by him, pressed between his body and the wall, his hand scalding through her shirt. He smelled like he always did after a long ride on Fenrir – like leather and fuel. But under that, his scent was clean and boyish. She could not get enough of him.

Now, waiting for Cloud to come back downstairs, Tifa had wished she had just closed the door to the office and had him, right there on the recently cleared desk. She was restless again, unable to sit still. Cloud's food was ready, warmed up and laid out at his usual spot at the bar. There was nothing else to do but wait. Her thoughts felt loud again.

And so, Tifa cleaned.

"Still fast asleep."

Cloud's voice startled her. Tifa jumped, turning around. She cursed herself at the apologetic, guilty look on his face. Just moments before, he looked at her like he wanted to lift her up against the wall. He looked at her how she ached for him to look at her – with desire, not regret.

To Tifa's relief, though, the sorry look in his eyes passed. He looked around at the bar area, eyebrows raised.

"You really have been busy."

Tifa shrugged. "Cleaning clears my head."

He nodded seriously. Tifa put her dust cloth down and motioned toward the food. Cloud took a seat at the bar, and she stood opposite him, leaning on her elbows on the counter. He had changed into a white t-shirt and drawstring pants. Water droplets still clung to the edges of his hair from washing his face.

Tifa resisted the urge to reach out and wipe them away, still uncertain of where things stood between them. She looked down at her hands, twisted together on top of the bar, while Cloud ate.

"It's good," Cloud said, motioning with his spoon. "Thank you."

"It's nothing special," she replied quickly.

"It is."

He imbued an unusual amount of feeling in those two short words. It made Tifa look up. She realized he had been watching her. The look in his was not as heated as before, but it was just as piercing. He swallowed another mouthful of food, still studying her.

"What were you trying to clear your head of?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"You said you were trying to clear your head," Cloud prompted. "What's on your mind?"

Tifa had understood him the first time. It was just that he had stolen her question. The one that she always wanted to ask him, anyways.

There were a hundred believable lies that Tifa might have told him. The children were an obvious one. Business and upkeep at Seventh Heaven. A sudden influx of migrants to Edge, and nowhere for them to go. The tenuous stability of their newly established government.

But the truth rose to Tifa's lips instead.

"Us," she told him.

His gaze captured hers and Tifa could not look away. Cloud's eyes were almost always intense, but this look was especially so. Then, he surprised her.

"Me too," he admitted. "I've been a mess over it."

He grinned self-consciously.

"As you might have guessed from last night."

Tifa hummed a soft note of agreement. "It wasn't like you."

Cloud nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if steadying himself. Still, he held her gaze.

"Truth is," he said. "I'm terrified."

Tifa tensed. She knew this conversation. They had fought about it before. She already knew it was part of what had driven him away. At her sudden wariness, Cloud shook his head.

"I'm always scared of losing you, losing the kids. That something might happen," he said quickly. "I know you know that. But that's not what I meant."

He flattened his hands on the bar, framing Tifa, where she still leaned with her hands clenched together.

"I'm terrified that I'm doing everything wrong. That I'm going to fuck things up between us."

Tifa blinked at the language. That was unlike him too.

"Sorry," Cloud said, lips twitching into a smile. "I have been hanging out with Cid, you know."

She smiled too, the intensity of their conversation broken, if only for a moment. But then she looked down at her hands. Squeezed them together more tightly.

"I'm afraid of that too," she admitted.

"You are?"

Cloud's question was automatic, surprised. But then he fell silent, waiting. Listening.

"I –" Tifa started.

Her voice failed her. How could she say it?

"Hey."

Gentle fingers, just under her chin. Cloud nudged her face up so that she would look at him again.

"Tell me. Please?"

His face was open, encouraging. He lowered his hand from her chin, resting it on top of Tifa's. His thumb stroked the back of her hand. Tifa took an unsteady breath.

"I wanted so badly for everything to be okay between us," she said, words coming out in a rush. "For me to be okay for you."

Cloud's brow furrowed at that but did not interrupt.

"Having you back home. It's everything."

Tifa shook her head. She was not making any sense. How could she explain it? She had everything she ever wanted. Cloud was home, safe and well with her and the children. They were a family again.

"Everything is perfect," Tifa continued. "Except for me."

Her voice broke on the last word. Cloud's hand squeezed hers. His eyes were round, alarmed. The look might have typically stopped her, but now the words were coming, almost outside of her control.

"I know that you're here to stay now, and that everything is okay. You're okay. Denzel is okay. I know that. It's just that sometimes…" Tifa heard the shakiness in her voice and fought it. "Sometimes I'm not okay. And it scares me because–"

Cloud's mouth was hanging slightly open. The look in his eyes was devastated. Tifa was upsetting him. She gritted her teeth, determined to get it out all the same.

"It scares me because, if things get hard again, or I'm not happy enough, you might be unhappy. Or feel guilty again. You might stay, but you might not want to. You might not want–"

Tifa's chin started to wobble.

"What, Tifa?" Cloud asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"Me," she finished.

She could no longer see his reaction because her eyes were blurring over. Shit. Shit. Tifa was going to cry again. She could feel it building, like a sneeze. She squeezed her eyes shut. Bit her lip, hard.

"Tifa…"

She shook her head. Cloud's hand, which had still been on top of hers, lifted. Tifa pressed her hands to her eyes, as if they could hold the tears in. The barstool scraped against the floor as it was pushed back, and she heard quick, urgent footsteps moving around the bar. Suddenly, Cloud was there. He pulled Tifa into him, cradling her head with one hand. The other was warm against her back, holding her close. Tifa buried her face into his chest and took several unsteady breaths.

"Tifa, hey. It's okay," Cloud said hoarsely, his voice close to her ear. "Just cry, okay? It's alright. I'm right here."

Cloud's heart was pounding against her ear. His voice had a crack in it, as if he too were holding back tears. Tifa let out one, shuddering sob.

"That's it. I've got you."

Tifa cried. It was not the same uncontrolled outpour as weeks prior, but she cried all the same. And this time words came too.

She admitted some of the things she had been holding back before, not wanting to give Cloud anything else to apologize about or feel guilty for. How certain she had been that she would have to watch Denzel die. Her loneliness when he had been gone. Needing to push everything down, to be strong for Denzel and Marlene. And recently, how she would sometimes, unexpectedly, remember how close she had been to losing Cloud forever.

The words left her, like a poison she had not realized she needed to be purged of. Cloud listened without interrupting. His arms around her were solid, grounding. She clung to him.

At some point, Cloud moved them to the floor, leaning up against the back of the bar and holding Tifa on his lap. As her cries quieted, Tifa rested the side of her face on his chest. His shirt was wet from her tears. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, her breaths steadying to match the slow rhythm of Cloud's hand stroking up and down her arm.

After her breathing evened out and she was limp and relaxed in Cloud's arms, he broke the silence.

"Can I say something?"

His voice was soft. Tifa nodded into his shirt. Cloud cupped her face with both hands, tilting it up so he could see it. His thumbs swiped gently at the wet track of tears on her cheeks.

"I always want you," he said.

The words were urgent. Emphatic. Like he really wanted Tifa to understand them.

"And that's why I'm not going anywhere. Even if things get hard."

Tifa's lips were trembling again. Cloud brushed his thumb across them. He continued to trace a path across her face, drawing an arch over her forehead with careful fingertips, then skimming the back of his knuckles over her cheekbones. He stopped at her chin, holding her in place.

"But you have to tell me, okay? Tell me when something is wrong. Please, don't pretend to be alright."

His voice broke, a pleading note in it. Incapable of words, Tifa nodded. Cloud let go of her face and pulled to him again, holding her close.

"I'll tell you too, alright?" he whispered into her hair. "I promise. I won't hide it from you if something's wrong. Not again. We'll face it together."

They sat on the floor of the bar for a while, content in one another's arms. Eventually, though, Cloud shifted uncomfortably, and smiling apologetically, Tifa shifted off his lap. He returned her smile, rubbing his thigh and bending the leg experimentally. It must have fallen asleep.

Tifa moved next to Cloud against the bar. She felt emptied, like she always did after a long cry. But it was a good feeling this time. As if she too had suffered from Geostigma and had been cleansed by a cool, healing water. She thought of Cloud's words from weeks ago. I feel lighter. Tifa did too.

She did have some regrets though. Tifa pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed. She felt Cloud looking at her, concerned again.

"Well," she said dryly. "This was not how I expected the night to go."

"No?" Cloud asked, curious.

"Not quite."

"Huh," he said. "What did you have in mind?"

Tifa shrugged noncommittally.

"Oh, doesn't matter now. I guess, last time, I at least waited until after to ruin everything, instead of shutting things down before."

She smiled to let Cloud know she was mostly kidding. He did not seem to think it was funny.

"Stop that. You didn't ruin anything."

Tifa gave him a look. "I kind of ruined the night last time."

"You did not ruin anything last time," he said firmly. "And you did not shut anything down this time."

"Oh?" Tifa asked, glancing at his lap.

"Tifa!"

Cloud's cheeks turned pink, and Tifa giggled. After a moment, he joined her too. Laughing together felt good. Light. Tifa and Cloud had just promised each other to share in the heaviness of life, but Tifa knew how important this was too. To share this lightness.

Their laughter subsided and Cloud reached a hand to her cheek.

"You did not ruin anything," he repeated.

There was a low thrum to his voice that Tifa felt to the base of her spine. Now she blushed, turning her face away.

"Cloud, I'm a mess."

His face was suddenly nestled where her neck met her shoulder. He pressed a kiss there before working his way up her neck to her jaw. His lips followed the same path his fingers had so gently traced earlier, kissing her forehead, her cheeks.

"You're not a mess," he murmured.

"I thought we had decided not to lie –"

Cloud cut her off with a kiss, his lips finally landing on hers. Tifa wound her arms around his neck, tugging him to her. She nipped at his bottom lip and he groaned into her mouth, frustrated. With Tifa's back against the bar and Cloud hovering over her, the angle was not ideal. They could not get close enough.

Tifa pushed Cloud and he tugged her with him. They switched positions, Cloud with the bar against the back. Tifa moved onto his lap, straddling him. This time they both groaned, the closer contact simultaneously too much and not enough. Cloud's hands landed on Tifa's waist as she leaned forward to kiss him again.

His hands did not stay on her waist. They slipped underneath her shirt, skimming up and down her sides. Brushed the underside of her breasts. Dug into her back. They moved lower, grabbing her from behind. Tifa moved her hips, pressing into him.

"Tifa," he panted, breaking away from her mouth and letting his head fall back against the bar.

"You started it," she teased.

"Maybe," Cloud conceded. "But I don't intend to finish it here on the floor."

"No?"

"You just washed them," he pointed out.

"They can be washed again."

She moved to lean in for another kiss, but he stopped her. Hair had fallen out of the knot atop her head. He tucked it out of the way. His eyes were serious again, no longer playful.

"I want you in bed," he told her.

Tifa gave him one, lingering kiss.

"Okay, then."

She climbed off his lap and grabbed his hand, tugging him to his feet. He let her pull him through the darkened house. Hand in hand they moved across the bar and tiptoed upstairs, past the children's bedroom and into their own.

The door shut behind Tifa and she clicked the lock. She leaned against the closed door and looked at Cloud, standing there, watching her in a shirt stained with her tears. The air felt charged between them, just like it always had. But Tifa felt something more in their connection, something deep and strong and heady.

"Tifa…" Cloud whispered.

His eyes were huge, his face mirroring Tifa's own awe.

"I know," she replied.

She moved toward him and rested her fingers lightly on his shirt, smoothing the rumpled spots where her fingers had twisted into it before. His hands were light at her hips, moving slowly upward. Her shirt gathered on his hands as they traveled, and Tifa lifted her arms so he could pull it over her head. She could feel his eyes on her skin, as heated as his hands.

He shook his head. "Sometimes I can't believe it."

"Mm?"

"How beautiful you are."

Tifa reached for him, hands bunching the hem of his shirt. He pulled it off and gathered her close, pressing their bare skin together. Tifa nuzzled against his neck, kissing it and grazing him lightly with her teeth. His pulse thrummed against her lips.

Cloud's hands were beneath her waistband now and Tifa reached down to help him, shimmying out of everything. Eyes dark, he lifted her against him, carrying her over to the bed. He placed her down carefully, his body over hers.

Of the two of them, Tifa was the more impatient one. And she typically got her way, knowing Cloud was helpless if she begged or touched him just right.

But Cloud lightly grabbed her wrist when she reached for him. He pulled her hand to his face, kissing the tips of her fingers, her palm, the pulse point at her wrist. His kisses were slow and lingering, coaxing her to match his slower pace. They moved up her arm to her collarbone, then down. Tifa arched her back into him, gripping his hair when he buried his face into her stomach.

His hands reached down, bending her legs to either side of him. He lifted up to kiss the inside of her knee.

"Can I?" he asked.

Tifa gasped at his fingers, close, but not quite where she wanted them. "Yes."

Hands gripping her thighs, he tugged her to the end of the bed, kneeling at its foot. Tifa squirmed, impatient again when his teeth nipped at her inner thigh.

"Cloud!"

She felt his smile against her skin, and she nearly sat up to call him a tease when she felt his mouth on her, right where she needed him. He took his time, building her up slowly. His hands held her still, thumbs stroking her hipbones soothingly when she whimpered. One hand released her, then joined his mouth. Tifa gripped the sheets, his name escaping her in a gasp as her body tensed then released, limp on the bed.

Cloud climbed back up next to her. Tifa turned on her side to face him, lifting a hand to his cheek. He reciprocated, brushing loose strands of hair off her face. Tifa was gratified that his breathing was almost as harsh as hers. She smiled at him.

"I missed you," she said.

He held her gaze, eyes serious. "I love you."

They did not say the words often and Tifa savored them now. She lowered her hand from his face to his shoulder, rolling to her back and pulling him on top of her.

"Show me."

He kissed her, settling between her legs. Tifa's nails pricked into his back as he entered her, just as slow and careful as their first time. Unlike their first time, he reached under her, tilting her hips and pulling one knee higher, fitting them together the way they both needed. Cloud burrowed his face into her neck. The muscles of his back were trembling under Tifa's fingers. She reached a hand into his hair, holding him against her.

"Cloud, please."

Cloud moved, and they both were lost.

Tifa, already sensitive and close from before, did not take long to cry out, turning her face to the pillow to muffle the sound. At the feel of her release, Cloud shuddered, pausing. Tifa rotated her hips into his, urging him on. Groaning, he pushed into her, quicker and less controlled. With a muffled shout of his own, he said her name, muscles jumping then collapsing heavy on top on her.

His weight eased up as he began to move aside, but Tifa stopped him, winding her leg over his and wrapping her arms behind his back.

"Stay here," she whispered. "Just a bit longer."

Cloud complied. He pressed a tender kiss to her sternum. Her fingers stroked through his hair.

"You okay?" he asked.

Tifa released him enough that he could lift up his head to look at her. She smiled at him in answer and he responded with one of his own. It was a sleepy, satisfied smile, one that Tifa was certain only she ever got to see.

"Hey Tifa," Cloud said.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have an unopened bottle of that wine? Not the Corel wine. The nice one?"

"I think so, why?" she asked, surprised.

Cloud sighed happily and dropped his head to Tifa's chest.

"Maybe we could send it to Cid and Shera?"