Chapter One
Seen
Early morning sunlight filters through the windows of Seventh Heaven, casting a warm glow on Tifa's steady hands as she pushes eggs back and forth in pans over the stove. Her voice is a gentle hum, carrying lightly over the sound of sizzling bacon. The entire dining room is filled with the savory scents of her cooking.
Tifa's mind drifts quietly through her thoughts as she turns the stove down and turns to make some coffee. It's mid-November and the first real chills of the late autumn season are beginning to grip Edge and the surrounding continent, harkening winter's eventual advent. It's too early to turn the building's heat up, so Tifa relies steadfastly on wool sweaters and warmth from the stoves and hearths. Having grown up in Nibelheim, where the winters were often harsh, she was used to unforgiving weather.
With that in mind, she yawns, wrapping her hoodie tightly around herself. The warmth brings a smile to her face as she lifts the pan and turns the eggs a bit. It's Cloud's sweater that she's wearing; it was often that he would leave his things lying around on the backs of chairs or on the corner of their bed, and Tifa would happily pick them up and either throw them in the laundry or throw them on herself.
This is one such instance. She'd awoken early that morning when the dawn was still yawning, Cloud stretched out in bed beside her with a heavy arm thrown over her waist. He'd left his hoodie at the foot of the bed when he'd climbed in the night before, and Tifa, rising to get the day started, pulled it on as she got up before brushing her teeth and padding her way downstairs.
With Cloud home and both him and Denzel completely healed from Geostima, waking up in the mornings is much easier than it had been. Tifa no longer feels the heavy weight of dread and uncertainty at her family's condition whenever she opens her eyes or places her feet on the wooden floor of their modest but comfortable bedroom every morning. She no longer feels the pangs of guilt or worry or confusion when she glances as Cloud's side of the bed, no longer finding it empty in those first rays of sunlight, but rather finding his sleeping form stretched out beside her, his golden hair shining against the dawn.
She no longer has to suffer the anxiety of possibly waking up alone, of waking up to the memory of silence or exasperated shouts. Cloud is home, their family is healed, and for weeks now, everything has seemingly gone back to the best form of normal that Tifa could ever hope for.
It's been just a couple of months, but Tifa thinks things have settled. She and Cloud are closer than ever, their bond fortified through mutual understanding that she realizes now could only be reached after hitting the bottom. It was worth it, she thinks as she slides toast into the oven, a slight smile perching on her lips again as her thoughts give way to the happy shyness on Cloud's face when he looked her way in the church that afternoon.
Of course, her worries never truly go away. Deep inside, she still wonders if Sephiroth is truly gone, if the mark of superhuman sickness that Jenova left inside of her lover's body would ever truly relinquish its hold on his DNA. She wonders if the traumas and losses of their past would ever truly be behind them, if they would really be able to move on past the hurts of those stolen too soon while they were left to survive and find a way to move on with life.
Tifa pushes those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the progress they've made since that day the Aerith's healing rained down upon them all. Mellow feelings of happiness suddenly explode into a tangible warmth, a feeling that almost becomes indescribable. It is a sudden bloom of affection, and Tifa feels it unfold and burst from behind her, warming her back before it fills her entire chest cavity with light beams of affection. She stops where she stands, backing away from the toaster over with her hand pressed to her chest, shaking her head back and forth at the sudden onslaught.
"Goodness…"
She whispers quietly under her breath as she braces herself beneath the sensation. Her lips have formed a smile, but the intensity of the feelings that wash over her are still alarming in their strength. It is as if she has fallen into a river of admiration, the feeling pulsing against her as if in time with the beat of her heart. It is like a sudden but comforting embrace, grounding and steady. It makes her heart race, and she's momentarily thrown off by the intimacy of it. She feels choked, and it is so strong that it burns the corners of her eyes.
The coffee machine finishes its job with a loud ding. Gasping in surprise, she turns around to wipe her hands off on a dishrag, turning off the heat below the eggs. As she turns, she spots a shock of bright blond hair and muted colors out of one corner of her eye, surprised to find Cloud standing in the kitchen's threshold.
He's leaning against the doorframe with his hands lazily in the pockets of his sweats, his entire countenance betraying the fact that he just woke up. His mop of blond spikes are messier than usual, flyaways shooting in every direction and drooping around the sloped perfection of his pretty face. His bedclothes are wrinkled and cling to the muscled perfection of his form. His blue eyes are hazy from sleep, sparkling subtly under the morning sunlight as he stares dutifully at her.
"Oh," Tifa whispers lightly when she spies him standing there. Cloud usually wakes up not long after she does, but she knows that he was planning to take the day off from his deliveries to help her with the expansions to Seventh Heaven and thought that he might want to sleep in a little. "You're already awake. I thought you'd want to sleep in."
Cloud smiles. It's an easy, effortless smile. Not particularly broad, but then, his smiles never were audacious. They are always quiet and contained, and when they are aimed at her, they are always precious. Tifa absorbs the warmth of his one, feeling it pile onto the strange feelings of appreciation that linger inside of her.
"The smell of bacon and dark roast woke me up," he admits with a soft chuckle. He pushes away from the door, crossing the kitchen in a few short strides to join Tifa by the stove. Tifa watches him as he approaches, ready to fall into his embrace the way she always does in the mornings before they start their days.
Only this time, something strange is happening. As Cloud draws near, the sudden rush of admiration and warmth explodes into a bright, searing sensation. It radiates across her skin like the lick of flames and wraps around her heart with the strength of a vice, squeezing near to the point of bursting until Cloud is standing right in front of her.
She feels it emanating from him and wrapping around her like a warm and heavy blanket, and it is almost suffocating.
"Good morning," he greets.
It is then that he wraps his arms around her the way that he always does. All strength and weight, he pulls her in, his lips finding her forehead as his hands rub long trails up and down her back and shoulders. He crushes her to him and Tifa gasps, not from the force of his hold but from the emotions, powerful and unbidden, that flood around her the closer they are to one another.
"G-good morning," she stutters.
Cloud rocks her back and forth in his arms a bit, then leans in and kisses her lips lightly and tenderly. His mouth is cool and still tastes like the lingering fresh mint of his toothpaste. She indulges in it for a moment, but she is still so disoriented from the sensations that swirl confusingly around her that she almost stumbles when he finally steps back.
"You alright?" he chuckles, rubbing her back and then her upper arm as he gives her some space.
"I-I'm fine," she stuttered, her cheeks heating profusely at her flustered reaction. She tries to brush it off - surely she's imagining things - but the warmth lingers. The vulnerability that is born from the moment is suddenly too much to handle, and she shakes her head and turns away from him, reaching into the cupboard for plates.
"You're up early," she tells him by way of changing the subject. "Breakfast is almost ready."
Cloud smirks, but not before he gives her a flirtatious pat on the bottom. She yelps playfully, pouting at him as he nods and reaches above her head to help her grab the plates she's reaching for.
"Here you go," he whispers, handing them over. Tifa meets eyes with him, and the warm, heady feelings intensify, pulsing into an ache of longing and desperate affection. It's almost too much to handle, and with his sudden proximity, she realizes that the feelings are coming from him.
Locking eyes with her at that moment, it is almost as ifherealizes it too. Tifa sees a sudden recognition bloom in his eyes, their blue discs widening against bright black pupils that coalesce with surprised understanding. She feels a wave of embarrassment that is couched in fluttering shyness, and none of it is coming from within her.
It is all coming from him.
"Uh -" Cloud reacts as if he's been caught, and his cheeks bloom with fresh, bright heat. Tifa accepts the plate from him, watching acutely as he backs away from her.
"Sorry," he mutters sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he offers her another smile. She isn't sure what he is apologizing for, but she offers him a smile in return, hoping that it sets him at ease. The last thing she wants to do is irritate or embarrass him. She knows how fragile his heart is and even though things have been so much better since he's defeated Sephiroth for good, she is careful to always protect him in every way she knows how.
"I'll go get Denzel," Cloud pivots, shaking off the unease by shooting her another easy smile. "He should be down here helping you, anyway."
He kisses her cheek lightly, his lips buttery soft. She nods watching as he turns and leaves the kitchen, running his fingers through the messiness of his wild chocobo hair as he disappears.
Tifa watches him go, her hand on the handle of the coffee pot. The warmth that wrapped around her, the elation and veneration that had stifled the air all seems to follow him as he goes, drifting along behind him until it is gone.
Her heart is pounding.
Cloud trudges up the stairs, his heart pounding louder and louder with every step. He can feel the way that it climbs his throat, rising so high he feels like he might choke.
How did that just happen?
He isn't sure what it is, but he knows he felt something. It was as if a door inside of him had suddenly been opened, as if his innermost thoughts and feelings had suddenly been bared to the world. Except it wasn't the world who had access to them.
It was Tifa.
Cloud stops in front of Denzel's bedroom door, inhaling a deep breath. There had only been one other time in his life when Cloud had felt the sensation of those open and accepting carmine eyes reading his soul, seeing the complete truth of his innermost thoughts and barest feelings unmasked. It had been inside the Lifestream, when Tifa had walked him through the twisted annals of his own mind, when she had seen his failings and insecurities and accepted him for who he was, rather than who he wanted to be. Since then, he'd known that they had always had a special sort of connection, and he knew that there was no person on earth who would ever see him the way that Tifa could.
There was no one on earth he'd everwantto see him the way that Tifa could.
Still, this knowledge hadn't prepared him for the possibility that their connection might avail her to insight even when he wasn't suspecting it. In fact, since that day two years ago when they were in the Lifestream, he can't remember them ever feeling that sort of connection again. A temporary, lingering aftereffect, maybe, but nothing more than a light brush of thoughts and feelings when they shared intimate moments or opened themselves up to one another in moments of touch or vulnerability.
Cloud hovers outside Denzel's door, raising a fist to knock lightly. Not like what he felt just now, he thinks. He can't remember ever feeling so unmasked, as if he were suddenly standing naked in front of her. He thinks of the subtle look of surprise in her eyes and he wonders how much she felt, how much of him she could actually read.
Ever since he'd contracted Geostigma, he'd felt blocked and imprisoned, that critical connection they'd forged over years of tragedies and in the cool blue ethers of the Lifestream seemingly dashed away. Cloud felt stunted by how closed off from Tifa, the only person he'd ever let in, he'd become. Now, though, with past burdens lightened and his heart open again, he was afraid that maybe he'd become more accessible than he'd bargained for.
After three attempts at knocking, Denzel didn't answer, and Cloud sighs, shouldering his door quietly open. The room is dim from the heavy curtains, and Cloud crosses the room, pulling them open and inviting a flood of sunlight in.
Denzel groans and rolls over in bed, pulling the covers over his head. In just a few short months, he's grown a few inches taller, his floppy ash-brown hair in bad need of a haircut. Cloud smiles quietly to himself, watching the body toss and turn under the sheets for a moment before he crosses to stand over the bed and give him a gentle shake.
"Denzel," he nudges him. "Rise and shine. Tifa's waiting for you."
Denzel groans again and Cloud laughs lightly to himself, yanking the covers away from the boy's face. A few weeks after the Geostigma crisis, Marlene opted to move with Barret to Corel, where he was rebuilding the settlement there in concert with the newly established Coalition for Corel's Future, a group working in tandem with the WRO and other local political forces to bring about renewal energy and a reinvigorated economy. Finally feeling settled in his purpose, Barret proposed resuming parenting Marlene full-time again. While Tifa and Cloud and especially Denzel initially mourned having the little girl leave the permanency of their family life here in Edge, things had eventually begun to settle into a normal routine, and Denzel, for his part, seems to very much enjoy the life of an only child with the sole attention of his two parents.
Denzel finally sits up, rubbing at his eyes. He looks at Cloud sleepily.
"Is Tifa making pancakes?" he asks, wrinkling his nose.
Cloud smiles, patting Denzel on the head as he gets to his feet. "Maybe, if you get down there and help her. Otherwise, you might be stuck with cold cereal."
That gets Denzel moving, throwing the covers back as he leaps out of bed and makes his way for the stairs. Cloud laughs, shouting after him.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth!"
A few minutes later, he joins Tifa and Denzel in the kitchen. Thanks to Denzel's cajoling, Tifa has added pancakes to the breakfast spread, and she is supervising Denzel as he carefully pours the mix into a hot open skillet on the stove. She glances his way when he returns to the kitchen, her garnet eyes widening for a moment as they scan over him.
Once again, Cloud feels that open, unsheltered feeling again, as if the borders surrounding the very core of his soul are being stripped away. The sudden connection is so intense that Tifa turns hastily away with a light blush on her cheeks, busying herself with her attention on Denzel.
"Don't pour too much, sweetie," she tells him. "We want it to spread out evenly."
Cloud clears his throat, trying to shake it off by pouring their coffee and orange juice, setting the table while Tifa and Denzel finish at the stove. He wonders if he's paranoid or stupid, or if Tifa truly did sense his feelings when he walked in on her that morning, his endless longing for her that he can't seem to keep a lid on. He berates himself for letting his guard down, feeling vulnerable and exposed, even if he knows his feelings for her are no longer a secret and haven't been for a very, very long time. But it's not just the feeling of being left open that leaves him so shaken. It's the sudden rush of care and concern that swirls around him, coupled with a gentle, trembling anxiety. It surges up at him from outside himself, a warmth that is at once tender and protective while fraught with worry. It catches him unawares, an uncontrollable sensation that is like being comforted from the inside out, like he's suddenly cloaked in a blanket he didn't ask for.
He glances at Tifa, wondering if she's feeling the same thing, but she's busy with Denzel, heaping the pancakes, eggs, and bacon onto their plates. Her face doesn't betray that anything is off, rather, she is smiling, her exuberance hiding any worry or concern that may lay beneath the surface. He watches her curiously for a moment, blinking at her when she stops in front of him and sets his plate down in front of him.
"Everything okay?" she asks gently. Denzel is already diving into his food.
Cloud looks away awkwardly, feeling the surge of confused, emotive worry ripple and course over him when Tifa continues to look his way. "I'm fine," he lies, spearing his eggs with his force. The feelings are most certainly coming from Tifa, practically spilling off of her and filling him like an empty chalice. "Just hungrier than I thought, I guess."
Tifa holds his eyes for a moment as if she's trying to read the truth behind his statement before she nods in acquiescence and turns away. She brings the coffee over and then sits beside him with her own plate in front of her, spreading butter onto her toast. Her eyes are focused but downturned, and he can't help but glance over at her intermittently, trying to read the thoughts behind those ruby-jeweled eyes.
But he can't read anything. All he can do isfeel. And the feelings are overwhelming, making him realize how much Tifa is carrying, how much her mind rests on him.
"Hey, Denzel," Tifa speaks suddenly, and the swell of intense feelings drifts and eases back. "I hope you didn't make plans today. Cloud has the day off."
Cloud watches as gratitude and happiness light up Denzel's face, his blue eyes widening. Since returning home from his bout with illness, Cloud has been mindful to make time each week to spend with his family and to give himself a much-needed break from the road.
"Really?" Denzel chirps, sitting up straight and leveling a happy look at Cloud. "Can we go to the park?"
Cloud smirks, taking a bite of the pancakes that Tifa's served. He has to admit that nothing compares to the soul-satisfying taste of her country home cooking. He chews, swallowing it back before he glances at her and nods.
"Your mom has been talking about visiting Bill's ranch for a while now," Cloud says. "What do you guys think?"
"The ranch!?" Denzel exclaims. "I can't wait, Cloud! I've always wanted to see the chocobos in person myself!"
Cloud laughs, sipping his coffee. But a torpedo of fresh emotions rush over him, replacing the earlier anxious feelings of worry and concern. Instead, they are replaced by hope and pride, a warmth that is so gushy and encompassing he nearly feels choked by it.
Tifa is looking at him, the warmth exuding from the cherries of her eyes. She smiles, reaching under the table to squeeze his thigh.
"Sounds like fun, doesn't it?" she says to Denzel, even though she is looking right at him, so deeply it is like she is looking into his soul.
Or maybe he is looking into hers.
It's a beautiful day on the Eastern Continent and Cloud is happy for the opportunity to be driving through the restless winds for leisure rather than for work. Tifa is latched onto his waist, her head resting on his shoulder, and Denzel rides in the sidecar as he tears Fenrir through the wastelands, his slate-blue eyes wide and drinking in the landscape around them.
Cloud lets his mind wander as he drives, and it helps him clear himself of the strange, sudden sensations he found himself mired in over breakfast. The feeling of being completely unlocked to another's gaze, to being left open like a book, to having another's own feelings wash over you without warning - it is disorienting and he wonders if he's imagining things. He's always been close to Tifa - even when they first reunited back in the Midgar slums two years ago they had an instant sort of connection they both could feel, a wordless understanding between them at any given moment where they could sense one another's feelings and finish one another's sentences. That connection had only deepened over their time together, especially after they had fallen in the lifestream together in Mideel. Even so, it had never felt so unabashed or naked before, and Cloud admits that after he had pulled himself away from Tifa and their family when he'd gotten sick, the lapse in their connection had been marked.
Maybe it was just the reestablishment of it after those two weeks spent apart that he was currently feeling, and so Cloud tries to ignore the bizarre, new sensations he felt around him, letting his mind drift and settle as they make their way along the winding highways into the Grasslands.
Things in this part of the world haven't changed much in the last few years, other than resurgences of fauna and flora in the local area as Midgar's use of mako energy declined. With Shinra no longer exploiting the planet of its most precious resource, the earth flourishes in ways it always intended to.
Cloud pulls Fenrir up outside of the ranch, its tires unfurling dirt in every direction. Denzel is eager to hop out, and watching as Tifa leads him over to Chloe and Billy, who greet her enthusiastically, Cloud can't help but watch his family with a burgeoning sense of pride. Tifa and Denzel are both his - his family, the two people on earth he loves more than any, including himself.
The open fields, fresh air, and chirping chocobos bring a sense of calm and joy that has been rare for them, Cloud realizes as he toes Fenrir's kickstand. With Chloe's encouragement, Denzel runs ahead to pet the chocobos in the nearby pen, his laughter ringing through the air. Tifa is smiling brightly, chatting with Bill as his grandson opens the pen to take one of the chocobos out for Denzel to pet.
"Haven't seen you two in a hot minute," Chocobo Bill greets as Cloud walks up. Tifa is red-faced and giggling, but Cloud can sense her slight discomfort at Bill's over-the-top, borderline-inappropriate teasing. He's always flirted a little too hard with Tifa, and even though he's a harmless old man, Cloud can't help the way it raises his sense of ire, especially knowing that it makes Tifa uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she is gracious about it, smiling and nodding her way through their conversation.
"The bar has been busy since the Star Scar was wiped up, and the delivery business has picked up more than ever, isn't that right, Cloud?" Tifa sings in response.
"We've been doing well," he admits, sidling up beside her. He drops a hand to her hip, watching as Tifa looks around, her wine-colored eyes following Denzel and Billy as they weave in between the flock of chocobos. He studies the profile of her face, watching as her eyes widen ever so slightly, her lips parted in the faintest hint of a wistful smile.
Once again - just like during breakfast - Cloud is suddenly hit with the whispering waves of feelings that are not his own. A surge of joy and longing suddenly emanates from Tifa, only this time, it is not merely the sensations of what she feels, but the sudden conjuring of vivid images, as if he is sharing a dream with her.
He stares out at a field very much like the one they stand in front of, only a white picket fence surrounds them hundreds of feet away in the distance, boarding a robin's egg blue, ranch style house. Cloud sees himself out front, tinkering on his bike, while Denzel and Marlene lead a yellow chocobo together through the pasture.
"Bed and breakfast is just up the road ahead," Cloud hears Tifa's voice echo behind him. "Where my husband is, see him? That's right, the blondie with the scowl. Can't miss him." Cloud turns, but he realizes he can't see Tifa because he's watching the world through her eyes. She turns, her focus landing on a young family who are carting several pieces of luggage behind them.
"Thanks, Mrs. Strife," the young man leading their group says. "We've heard so much about this place. My wife is dying to try your pot roast."
The young woman with him laughs throatily. "Wouldn't mind if I got my hands on the recipe, too," she admits.
Cloud feels the burst of elation inside of Tifa when she laughs, waving at the man and woman as she leads them in the direction of the ranch house. "Maybe I'll let you in on a couple of secrets. Come on, follow me."
"Hey, Strife. You in there, boy?"
Cloud is torn away from the ethereal vision when Chocobo Bill slaps him roughly on the shoulder, the images shattering and dissipating like confetti. He blinks, seeing that Tifa has refocused her attention on him, blinking curiously.
"Cloud?" she queries at his distracted state.
Cloud shakes his head out, turning to her. "H-hey," he stammers slightly. "Sorry, just got a little distracted.
She smiles at him good-naturedly, then turns, leaving his side to join Denzel with the chocobos. He finds himself overwhelmed with emotion as he watches her, glimpses of her dream for a simpler life—away from the chaos of Edge, surrounded by peace and nature - still simmering below the surface of his heart. The intensity of her desire has caught him off guard once again, leaving him momentarily stunned.
"My wife used to leave me just as flabbergasted all the time," Bill is suddenly saying at his side. "I was just like you, I reckon. Well, maybe not as clueless as you are."
"Hey," Cloud protests.
Bill laughs. "She was as beautiful as your Tifa, too, I reckon," he adds. "I made sure I didn't waste any time putting a ring on that finger of hers though. Wish I'd had more time with her."
Cloud shifts where he stands uncomfortably, watching Tifa and Denzel as they fawn over one chocobo in particular that Billy is leading around by the reigns. The boy offers her his hand, helping her politely as she hoists herself up onto the saddle.
"Yeah," Cloud manages in response, watching distractedly as Tifa tries to pull herself up.
"Don't wait until it's too late," Bill continues.
Cloud is about to say something else when he feels a sharp, biting pain assault his inner calf. Stunned, he bends down, grabbing at his leg at the precise moment that Tifa shouts in pain and leaps away from the chocobo.
"Wark! Wark!"
"Tifa!" Cloud hears Billy shout. "You alright?"
Cloud snaps to attention upon hearing that. He looks down at his leg, seeing it completely unscathed. Glancing at the chocobo pen, he sees the way that Tifa has slid down from the bird and is gripping her calf, Billy and Denzel both hovering over her.
Without a thought, Cloud jogs over, entering the pen and running to Tifa's side. She's crouched down, holding her leg as a slow stream of blood trails from a gash in her upper calf. The chocobo rears up and then runs off, leaving them in its dust.
"What happened?" Cloud demands, getting to his knees at Tifa's side. His leg is still smarting in the same place where she holds her own, but he ignores it and focuses on her. "Hold still, I've got Cure equipped."
"The chocobo clawed her," Denzel blurts at her side.
Despite her injury, Tifa is smiling, squeezing her leg in place to staunch the bleeding. "It's no big deal," she assures. "The chocobo was just a little panicked. It's just a scratch, that's all. It barely hurts."
But Cloud knows, from the gnawing, biting pain in his own leg, that that is a lie. He can feel the achy waves radiate beneath his skin, and he can see the way that Tifa fights back her own tears at the waves of discomfort. Feeling the intensity of the pain and the uncertainty of the moment, Cloud tries to tamp down the surge of overprotective anger he feels, instead concentrating on casting Cure on Tifa's leg.
"Hold still, Tifa."
"Goddamned idiot," he can overhear Bill in the background. "Billy, I told you that bird wasn't ready for the public. Still too wild for her own good. Don't think that one will ever be fully domesticated. Might as well turn her back loose."
Billy frowns, and Cloud can see the distress and anxiety written all over his face. He focuses on Tifa, though, and when the materia's magic fully heals her wound, he cleans up the excess blood with a cloth that Billy hands him before helping her to her feet.
"It's fine," she insists before the two namesakes can get into a full-blown argument. "Chocobos can be testy sometimes, it's nothing new to me. We grew up in the country, isn't that right, Cloud?"
Cloud is steadying Tifa on her feet, and he steps back, meeting eyes with her. She's smiling, but he can see right past it, right back to hazy remnants of the vision they'd shared moments ago. He can feel the latent desire that lives deep inside of her when she mentions the country, and the remnants of her dream float around the corners of his mind's eye, bright blue skies and open fields and a home that is all their own, unobstructed by the smog and busyness of city life.
Is that what she wants?
"S-sure did," Cloud finally agrees, pushing the thought aside. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Tifa insists again. Cloud realizes that since casting Cure on Tifa, the pain in his own leg has subsided as well. It is as if they share more than just feelings and intuitions, as if they have become bonded at the cellular level. He isn't sure what to make of it, and he clenches one hand into a fist at his side.
"Let's not let it ruin our fun, hm? Come on, Cloud. We promised Denzel we'd show him how to ride today."
Cloud nods, letting the feeling fade.
But he doesn't forget it.
It's late that evening when Tifa finally clears away the remnants of their dinner and tucks Denzel in for the night. He protests a bit, wanting to stay up and look over maps with Cloud, but she reminds him that the weekend is over and that he has school in the morning. He reluctantly but obediently agrees, and she leaves a kiss on his forehead before sauntering back down the stairs.
Since Marlene has moved in with Barret, their family life is quieter, and in some ways, a little easier. Marlene often fought with Tifa about bedtime, and she was always taking advantage of Cloud's mushy side to stay up later. Denzel had a far better temperament about such things, though he still pressed his luck whenever he saw fit.
Yawning, Tifa slides his door closed and heads back downstairs, meandering her way through the quiet of Seventh Heaven's after hours. She picks up a bottle of whiskey that's hidden under the counter, a special stash for her to share with Cloud alone on quiet evenings like these when it's just the two of them. They hadn't shared many nights like that until recently, but now that he is home and he is healed, these quiet, simple moments that they share are more frequent, but also more cherished.
Speaking of Cloud - she finds him on the front porch, sitting on the steps and looking up at the night sky. He likes to come out here at the end of the long day, she knows, finding the cool evening air and muted starlight helpful in clearing his mind. She slips out the front door with the bottle, seeing him seated on the steps, leaning forward with his arms over his knees.
Almost as soon as she spots him, she can feel the influx of emotions inside of him. Unlike that morning, they aren't a clear and steady stream like the affection she had felt while he watched her in the kitchen that morning. Instead, they are a quiet but tumultuous storm, a range of everything from warmth and contentment to longing and hope. She absorbs the waves of feelings that waft toward her for a moment, before finding a seat at his side on the steps and offering the bottle up to him.
"Heya."
He turns to her, gentle blue-green eyes softening when they meet hers. He gives her a half smile, accepting the bottle and unscrewing the cap with his thumb.
"Hey," His eyes scan her from head to toe as she settles beside him, leaning her arm against his to try and steal some of his warmth. He indulges her, opening his arm to let her in close as he pulls back a swig of the whiskey. "How's your leg?"
"It's much better, thanks to you," she replies, smiling at the concern etched across his face. Cloud is always so protective of her, and no matter the particular circumstance, Tifa can't help but be enamored by his gentle concern. "I still say you were the best healer in our group."
"A well-kept secret," Cloud jokes, glancing at her. His eyes are warm, but there is something hidden there, and Tifa feels the unsteadiness of it as he gazes at her. Wanting to feel closer to him, she loops her arm through his, leaning her head against his well-sculpted shoulder. The night falls quiet, and Tifa follows the gentle hum of Cloud's breathing as he sips, the restful vibrations of his body helping to put her at ease.
Silence falls between them as they quietly drink together, but as Cloud hands the bottle back to her, Tifa can feel the undercurrent of anxiety that bubbles beneath the peacefulness emanating from Cloud. He blows out a sigh, and it is at that exact moment that Tifa is suddenly assaulted with the grey threads of an old memory, sepia tones bleeding into her vision.
She sees herself, young, maybe no more than eight years old. She is standing with the boys - Emilio, Taylor, Lester - in a patch of flowers inside of Nibelheim's old park. She is spinning around, showing off her newest dress while the boys joke and laugh. But through Cloud's eyes, she watches with longing and envy, feeling the intense desire to be part of the group, to be included, to be seen by her in a way that made him more than just a distant figure watching from the outskirts. The memory pulses with the sharp ache of a boyhood crush, raw and vulnerable.
She can feel what he feels - small, out of place, and yet inexplicably tethered to the scene by the sight of her happiness.
Back in the present, Tifa pulls away from him slightly, startled. Her breath catches in her throat, and she blinks away the lingering traces of Cloud's old memory that now mix with her own.
Cloud's grip on the bottle tightens. He looks away, embarrassment coloring his features, as if he knows that she's seen the depths of his heart.
Tifa's heart aches at the vulnerability she feels radiating from Cloud. She had known, in pieces and fragments, how long he'd carried those feelings, how deeply he'd buried his longing and self-doubt. But to feel it so raw and exposed, to experience the sharp edges of loneliness he'd carried from that time—this is different. It tightens her chest with a mix of affection and sadness.
Slowly, she takes the bottle from his hand, setting it aside on the porch step. Her movements are deliberate and gentle. Cloud's eyes flicker to her, hesitant and wary, and she sees the way he's bracing himself for her response, as if he's still that boy waiting to be left on the outskirts. She wants to tell him that he doesn't have to do that anymore.
He doesn't have to fear being unseen or left behind.
Without saying a word, Tifa places her hand over his, her thumb stroking the calloused skin of his knuckles. She can feel his heartbeat beneath her touch, rapid and uncertain. When he doesn't pull away, she entwines their fingers together and gives him a soft, reassuring squeeze.
"Cloud," she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. "Come with me."
He looks at her, and for a moment, she can see the battle raging in his mind—the instinct to close himself off, to retreat behind walls he's spent years constructing. But she also sees the flicker of something else, something fragile but hopeful. Trust. He nods once, almost imperceptibly, and she rises, tugging him to his feet with her.
Their hands remain locked as she leads him inside, their steps quiet against the worn wooden floors of Seventh Heaven. The bar is dark and still, the only sounds the creak of the floorboards and the soft rustle of fabric as they move. Tifa feels a warmth settle over her as they ascend the stairs, a quiet understanding that whatever this connection is—whatever it means—they will face it together.
When they reach the door to their room, Tifa pauses, turning to face him. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across his face, accentuating the intensity in his eyes. She can feel his apprehension, the weight of everything he's afraid to say. But there's also a quiet longing, a need to be understood and held, to be seen without judgment or fear.
Tifa steps closer, her free hand coming up to rest against his chest. "I see you," she says softly, her voice trembling with the depth of her emotion. "I always have."
Cloud's breath hitches, and for a moment, he looks like he might crumble. But instead, he leans into her touch, his forehead resting against hers. "I don't deserve this," he whispers, his voice rough. "I don't deserve you."
"Yes, you do," she replies, the conviction in her voice leaving no room for doubt. "You've always deserved to be loved, Cloud. You've always deserved to be seen."
He closes his eyes, and she feels the slight tremor that runs through him. She knows the weight of his past, the shadows that still haunt him, but she also knows the strength it's taken for him to come this far. She cups his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear he didn't realize had fallen. There's nothing else that needs to be said.
She understands him in ways words could never capture.
With a soft tug, she leads him into their room, closing the door behind them. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet. Tifa guides him to the edge of the bed, and they sit, hands still entwined. She leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then his temple, and finally his lips—slow, tender, sweet.
She can feel the surge of emotions that wells inside of him, the deep devotion and love that flows like an endless river and wraps around her like a heavy blanket. She can feel the intensity of what he feels for her - the depth of his longing and his need, the extent of his reverence.
Cloud's arms come around her, pulling her close as if afraid she might disappear. But she holds him just as tightly, letting him know that she's not going anywhere. They stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's warmth, until Tifa gently guides them back onto the bed, kicking off her shoes as she crawls comfortably into bed. Cloud follows her lead, going so far as to toss off his shirt before he curls up alongside her. She pulls the covers around them, their bodies tangling together as they lie facing one another.
Tifa can sense through this strange, new connection that her touch is a soothing balm to Cloud's restless soul, her presence a beacon of light in the shadows that still ebb at the corners of his mind. As they lie facing each other, their fingers still intertwined, she can sense the storm of emotions swirling within him. His eyes, usually guarded and distant, now hold a vulnerability that speaks volumes. With a tenderness that belies the intensity of their connection, Tifa leans in to kiss him again, her lips conveying all the unspoken truths between them and inviting him to do the same. They move in perfect harmony, a silent symphony of shared longing and understanding. Cloud's hands tremble slightly as he traces the contours of her face, committing every detail to memory as if afraid this moment will slip away like sand through his fingers.
Her heart beginning to pound, she shifts their bodies, sliding carefully out of her shorts and panties so that she can straddle him. Cloud's breath is a warm whisper against Tifa's lips as she leans in for another kiss. She can feel the sudden cascade of his emotions - a longing so profound it reverberates within her own chest, a reverence that wraps around her like a sacred shroud, and a love so intense it threatens to overwhelm her completely.
She also senses his loyalty, the steadfast devotion that has been a constant in the turbulent sea of their lives. But amidst these powerful sentiments, there lingers a shadow - the quiet tremor of fear that he might not be enough. Tifa knows this fear, has tasted its bitter tang on her own tongue, and now, feeling it pulse from Cloud, she yearns to reassure him with every fiber of her being.
Tifa's breath hitches as her hand captures Cloud's and draws it down the valley of her stomach. She lays his palm between her thighs, inviting him to touch her in the ways she loves the most. The warmth and wetness of her desire meets his touch, and she can't help but shiver against the first stroke of his fingers.
Cloud responds with the tender curiosity of a man exploring the sacred ground of her body. His fingers, calloused from wielding his sword, now navigate the softness of her folds with unexpected finesse. As he caresses her clit in slow, deliberate circles, Tifa moans, tossing her head back, her hair brushing across his knees.
The pleasure he brings her is a spark, but it's Cloud's emotions that fan the flames into an inferno. Tifa feels them all, each one more potent due to their soul-deep bond. There's smug pride swirling within him, a sense of accomplishment that he can draw such sounds from her. It's tinged with gratitude, so profound that it nearly takes her breath away. He's grateful not just to be here, in this moment, but to be the one who she allows to see her, to touch her in ways no other can.
And as his fingers dance over her sensitive skin, bringing her closer to the edge, she is stunned by a revelation. The passion coursing through him isn't just about the act itself—it's about the privilege he feels in being her sole lover, the only man who can have her like this. She had never fully grasped how vital it was for Cloud to feel important in this way, to be the one who unravels her with his touch, his presence, his love.
Tifa gasps, her back arching slightly as the intensity of Cloud's emotions amplifies the waves of pleasure rolling through her. Her fingers trace the waistband of Cloud's sweats, her breath hitching at the intensity of emotions rushing through their bond. She feels the echo of his longing, the reverberations of his devotion, and it fuels her desire to connect with him even more. With a deft movement, she tugs the fabric down, exposing his hard length to her hungry gaze.
Cloud's eyes lock onto hers, a silent exchange of trust and raw need passing between them. Tifa wraps her hand around him, feeling the smoothness and the twitch of his muscles beneath her touch. The heat from his skin seeps into her palm as she begins to stroke him, a slow and deliberate motion that draws a low moan from deep within his chest.
Whispers spill from Tifa's lips, a mixture of tenderness and provocation. She can feel Cloud's pride surge, a smug pleasure in being the one touched, seen, known by her in this moment. Tifa revels in the sensation, feeling how her actions stoke the fire within him, sending flickers of passion back to her in a cycle that feeds upon itself.
Tifa strokes him with increasing urgency, her movements both a giving and a taking as she plays in the slickness of his arousal, her own body responding in kind. It becomes an intoxicating rhythm, the push and pull of shared desire that spirals ever upward. Tifa drinks in Cloud's escalating emotions—the fierce protectiveness, the vulnerability masked by his quiet strength—and it amplifies her pleasure tenfold. He is open to her in ways he is to no one else, and the knowledge of it is heady and overwhelming.
The bond between them, forged in shared history and the crucible of trials, now pulses with a fervor that borders on the spiritual. It is a feedback loop of intense passion and raw emotion, addictive and all-consuming. Tifa clings to it, to him, chasing the high that comes from not just their physical union but from an otherworldly connection that is uniquely theirs.
Tifa's body moves with a hunger that has become its own entity, taking over her with a desperate need for Cloud. She slides herself onto him, gasping as he fills her deeply, stretching her in the way that crumbles her every time, no matter how many times they come together like this. The feeling of him inside her is electric, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her every nerve.
Her hands travel to the hem of her shirt, lifting it above her breasts. Cloud's eyes flash with an emotion that ignites her soul—a raw and unabashed love for every inch of her. He reaches for her, his touch gentle yet insistent, taking her nipple into his mouth while her hips twirl slowly. He sucks softly, drawing out a sweet ache that builds at her core. Tifa moans as she rides him, rhythmically rising and falling, each movement fueled by the intense emotions that flow between them. Cloud appreciates her with such fervor, cherishing her body as if it were sacred. Her pleasure mounts, spiraling toward an edge that promises blissful oblivion.
"I love you, Cloud," she hears herself whine, the words spilling from her lips in a cascade of passion and ardor. Her hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring herself as she lifts her hips and then slides back down on him, her walls engulfing every heavy, hard inch of his length. Cloud's arms wrap tight around her waist as he pulls her in close in response, and his emotions wash over her again in waves—adoration, desire, a fierce protectiveness that only heightens her own pleasure.
"I love you, Tifa."
His eyes lock onto hers, a blue so deep and intense it seems to pierce her very soul. And as she continues to profess her love, her voice catches with sobs, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. She pleads for release, for the sweet crescendo they are both chasing.
"Please, Cloud, I'm so close," she begs, her breath hitching as she nears the brink.
Cloud responds without words; his thumb finds her clit, a tender yet confident touch that sends shivers through her body. Tifa anchors herself on him, feeling the swell of his cock within her as she gyrates, drawing out the pleasure that builds at her core. His thumb circles with precision, coaxing her closer to the edge with every skilled movement.
Her climax approaches like a tidal wave. Tears of joy mingle with cries of ecstasy as she clings to Cloud, her body tensing around him. He meets her gaze, sharing in the vulnerability and rawness of the moment.
"Cloud!" she cries out as her orgasm crashes over her, a powerful surge that leaves her trembling and gasping atop him. Her tears spill onto his chest, staining his skin with her desperation. Cloud follows her over the precipice, his own release coming in a rush that fills her deeply.
Exhaustion melds with satisfaction in Tifa's limbs as she collapses onto Cloud, her breath still ragged from the storm of passion that has just passed between them. Cloud's arms envelop her, strong and steady, his hands roaming across her back in soothing patterns.
He presses tender kisses to her forehead, her temple, along her jawline—each one a wordless affirmation of their connection. It's a language of love that speaks directly to her soul, telling her all she needs to know about his feelings for her. As they catch their breath, the room feels cocooned from the rest of the world, a private haven crafted from their intertwined heartbeats.
Cloud reaches for the blanket at the foot of the bed, drawing it over their spent bodies, the fabric whispering across their skin. Tifa snuggles closer to him, the warmth of his chest seeping into her, her senses filled with the familiar scent of leather and sweat that is undeniably him. She purrs contentedly, a sound resonant with deep affection and a felicity that words fail to capture.
She senses Cloud's contentment like a soft glow in the dark, a feeling made tangible through the bond they share. His happiness cascades through her, and she knows she has eased his ever-present fears, his doubts. The knowledge fills her with an indescribable joy. Tifa caresses his hair, tracing the spikes that defy gravity, each strand a testament to the complexity of the man who holds her heart.
Tifa sighs contentedly as Cloud pulls the rumpled sheets up over their cooling bodies. She stretches languidly against him, muscles pleasantly sore and satisfied.
Cloud's hands continue their soothing motions along her back. She can feel his deep sense of peace and fulfillment through their connection.
"Was that good for you?" she asks softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
"It was perfect," he murmurs. "You're amazing, Tifa."
She smiles, warmed by his heartfelt words. "I'm so happy I could make you feel that way."
"You always do," Cloud says seriously. He tilts her chin up to meet her eyes. "I meant what I said earlier. I love you. I'll always love you."
Tifa's heart swells with emotion. "I'll always love you, too," she whispers.
He leans in, kissing her gently until Tifa can feel the exhaustion seeping into her limbs. Her eyes drift close, and she settles comfortably against Cloud's chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers trail slowly through her hair as she succumbs to sleep.
"I love you," she hears him whisper again.
And as Tifa falls asleep, she dreams of the Lifestream.