[ She flushes, even as she meets his gaze brightly. Ever since they were kids, she's always felt like when he looks at her, he's seeing her, not whatever confusing mix of expectation and fantasy everyone else seems to end up putting on her.
And he's never disappointed when she's her. It makes her chest swell, and she wishes she could tell him what that means to her. The feeling is only stronger now, that even like this, especially like this, that's still how it feels.
He really wanted to go on a date with her. Not just the pretty girl from the bar, or the pretty girl their age. She wasn't sure Cloud even thought she was pretty, and honestly, she didn't need to.
Except when he compliments her, she's turning even redder, dipping her head down in an embarrassed laugh. Okay, she did care if he thought she was pretty. Her hand brushes briefly on his thigh, before she wonders if that's too much and withdraws it to accept a menu.
Cloud...orders. She glances at him, her face wavering for a moment. She hasn't seen anything too off since they got here, though she's been with him less. Maybe....maybe being here has been good for him.
This time when he says that, she puts her hand more firmly on his knee, closing the tiny gap between their thighs. Her heart is pounding, but this feels important.
She knows what it is to feel like she's missed her chance, and anything could happen. To either of them. And-- ]
I'm glad we're getting this chance, even if this isn't how we ever could have expected to.
[ I like you. It's...redundant. A childish urge to just label what she feels then cover her face and wait to be accepted or rejected. It doesn't quite make it to her tongue, but it doesn't make it to her face.
She has absolutely no idea what she's doing. But -- if he's here, she can figure it out. ]
[ her hand sets onto his knee, and the realization trickles in slowly, honeyed and slick: this is the closest they've been since that night. heart racketing in his rib cage, lashes fluttering as their gazes intertwine, he feels himself melting into her with all of the warmth of a candle wick burning down to its base.
cloud had always shifted in between shades of disquieting insecurity and cutting temerity; but tonight, he wants... neither of those things. he wants to be unguarded and real and good, above all. to her. for her.
for once, he just wants this to work.
so his hand curls around hers, as if assuring her -- no, encouraging her to keep it there. that she could, that he wanted her to. ]
...I am too.
[ it's spoken firmly, but not so rigid that he thinks he might put her off. the waitress returns with two flutes of champagne, gold shimmering in the watercolor halogen light. never in his life did he think they'd be doing this, drinking alcohol far, far beyond their pay grade in a restaurant valued more than both of their lives combined.
it's... daunting. frightening. exhilarating, exciting. he pinches the stem of the glass between his fingers, a practice he had only learned due to a prior date here. ]
...Tifa.
[ he raises his glass, gesturing it towards her. a toast. ]
[ Her eyes widen, lips parting as she stares first at their hands and then his face. She'd known this was a date, but it wasn't really until that moment that it clicked that...maybe...he wanted her, in a way that was different from how they'd been.
That night flashes in her mind, long since tucked away, and she remembers how much she ached for him to touch her. Somehow his hand on hers is more shocking than anything she'd imagined. And much more grounding.
His words shake her from her surprise, features softening into something too soft as heat creeps onto her cheeks, but she doesn't mind. She squeezes his leg beneath her hand, just...happy.
And impressed when he raises a glass. Is that rude? Should she think more highly of him when she cares so much about him. It doesn't matter right now. She lifts her glass too, tipping it to clink lightly against his. ]
We sure have made it a long way, hmm? To us.
[ She pulls her glass back to sip. It's nice champagne, nicer than she's ever been able to afford except sampling for the bar. Maybe...maybe being here wasn't so bad. For now.
Her heart thuds wildly as she sips, Nami's advice about men and dating echoing in her mind. They're stupid. You have to tell them what you want, or they won't figure it out. Just ask. ]
[ it's not a question he expects -- not one he's ever expected in spite of the fact that he's fantasized about it since childhood, in spite of the fact that he's always wanted this.
his heart stops in his throat. he looks to her, the blues of his eyes roiling, and the world around them slows -- just as it had that first night he saw her, draped in emerald. he blinks, silently, as the bustle of the restaurant fades into obscurity, the people around them an afterthought and nothing more.
and then without hesitation, the entirety of his body leans forward -- and his hand curls around her shoulder, feeling out tendon and muscle beneath the pads of his fingers, before he slots his lips against hers.
they're soft. just as soft as he'd imagined. no, better. cloud melts into her, the wick of a candle flickering in the dark. his grip does not relinquish; he's barely been given anything, and yet he finds himself chasing more, selfishly, greedily, as if this wasn't enough.
but it would do for now. his skin is alight, head trapped in between the throes of ecstasy and the haze of unreality. it's good. it's bad. it's everything he's ever wanted and more. ]
You don't have to ask. [ is all he says by the end. ]
[ The way he freezes, staring at her like she's got six heads, she worries she's some how messed this up again. Her hand tweaks slightly under his, face barely starting to twist.
And then a tiny startled gasp escapes her, swallowed by his mouth on hers. The hand on her shoulder feels huge and warm, and even as she presses back against his mouth, she wishes she knew how to ask for more.
He pulls back, and she doesn't want him to go, but she's still warm all over, smiling dazedly back at him as she squeezes his thigh. This was more than she ever thought-- she shouldn't feel disappointed, or worried.
But how do I know what's okay if I don't ask? It's a problem for another time. She doesn't want to spoil this. ]
You either, okay?
[ She reaches out very gingerly, brushing a little of his hair. It's stiff with whatever he's put in it, and somehow that reminds her it's Cloud, the awkward, sweet, earnest boy she's known forever. Her smile softens, and in another moment she's wrapped her arms around him, nestling into his shoulder even with the awkwardness of the booth and the table. ]
[ boundaries. they were defined by boundaries -- by invisible walls he'd never known how to breach. from their childhood to now, there'd been this liminal space they swam within, this bridge they could never traverse.
but her lips on his, the way her palm skates up his thigh, the remnants of warmth that traverse his body: it was a betrayal of all they'd ever known. and cloud finds himself utterly engrossed by every second of it, wanting desperately to claw for more.
she presses her body against him. they seep into each other, in a manner so unlike that hug they'd shared in midgar. not a thing born from consolation or grief, but earnest affection.
a moment rooted in joy, the one thing they were never allowed to have. cloud's arms inch forward and he embraces her, the movement easy and slow; his cheek settles against her head. ]
...Me too.
[ and then under his breath, a quiet, soft sentiment-- ]
I've...
[ a beat. ]
I've wanted this for awhile, Tifa.
[ fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. ]
Maybe-- maybe it's... it's different here. Us. Our lives. What we're allowed to have.
[ Her heart skips, and when it remembers to work again, it's pounding. She'd imagined something like this. What girl hadn't? Maybe even with him, once or twice, but...not in any real way.
Once, not so long ago, she'd maybe have pulled back from that touch, or tried to convince herself it wasn't that important. But after being here, after everything they've lost, she's not denying herself anything else. She nestles into his hold, closing her eyes against the pressure on her head.
Her heart skips again, at the hand against her hair, at the admission. How long? she wants to ask, but she can't quite muster it. ]
We'll make it different. If we're going to be here, then, we should make the best of it, you know?
[ And...maybe it would be easier here. To find a cure to whatever was wrong with him. But she wasn't bringing that up tonight either. ]
I don't care what we're allowed and not allowed to have. I'm tired of living under other people's rules.
[ the answer is forever, for as long as he can remember. he was always a stupid boy, dreaming up impossibilities -- he considered her one of them.
but things have changed. the past, the future, them.
making the best of it: he'd always been bad at that. but the idea alone -- it sounds wonderful from her mouth. like a real possibility swimming against the current. he holds her in place, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the small of her back.
"i'm tired of living under other people's rules," she says, and his lips seal shut, spark sparking in his eyes. this place had something to her -- brought out the girl, headstrong and unwitting, as he'd always known her.
and he can't say no to that. ]
...Yeah. [ he speaks, docile by contrast. ] From one cage to the next, we might as well make something out of it. We...
We still have each other.
[ that sounds like something she'd say -- but maybe...
maybe he's learning. ]
Tifa. [ his voice is firm, if not inquisitive, before he musters the courage to ask: ] ...What do you want?
[ Tifa has never understood that particular power of hers, to speak things into being because other people believe them when she says them. But she does believe this. She has to. That's how she survives.
At least this one isn't sad. ]
I think maybe that's just life. It's always some kind of cage. You can't let that stop you from living, you know? Or else...what's the point of any of this?
[ She's maybe uncharacteristically melancholy. Or maybe honest. It's easy, to actually say what she thinks with him, not have to be the rock and the smile. She doesn't notice it, but she appreciates it. Like she's setting down a weight she doesn't realize she's carrying.
And she really does smile when he says that. It's one thing to think it herself, but to have him value it too -- things are weird between them. There's still...things she should ask him from home. But he's showed up for her. And that matters.
That question, though, makes her falter. She's glad for her hand on his leg, because this isn't something she's admitted to anyone. ]
I don't...know anymore. And that scares me. I used to think I just...wanted to get Seventh Heaven rebuilt as soon as possible. Help as many people who survived the plate...and I don't not want that I just...I've never had time to think about life outside Sector 7, or Nibelheim before that. I've always been trying to just keep above water. If I really could do anything with my life...I don't know. And I don't like not knowing.
[ She didn't mean to talk that much, and she looks back at him and her eyes widen slightly in embarrassment. ]
[ tifa's never been stupid -- far from it, truly, even in spite of her impulsive streak. but she speaks candidly in a way she so seldom does, and she's so far away from him, eons separating them.
he wonders why. but whys always came with a hurt he could never quantify, a pain that both grounded and muddled his existence. ]
I guess I'm just--
[ he eyes rove up, the slow crawl of the moonrise, and he grows meeker -- more like himself. like the boy she'd known at nibelheim, rather than the man at midgar. ]
Afraid. Of being trapped. I... I don't know why. But then I think about it, I...
[ no. he wouldn't let himself taint this. not as memories, swirling swathes of color sand voices, surface like broken capillaries swelling beneath a bruise. his fingers find hers, latching onto her for purchase as he shakes himself out of it.
and then. in a complete shift, he's at peace again -- as if nothing had happened at all. ]
...It's okay. [ he says, if to reassure both himself and her. wasn't that typically the case? it was -- had to be for both of them. ] ...Don't know either. For as long as I can remember, it's... been about surviving. Nothing less, nothing more.
[ he doesn't respond to her question, not immediately. but then quietly -- he leans into her, eyes transfixed on the soft contours of her face, of the way her eyes burn amber in contrast to his cerulean. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
And he's never disappointed when she's her. It makes her chest swell, and she wishes she could tell him what that means to her. The feeling is only stronger now, that even like this, especially like this, that's still how it feels.
He really wanted to go on a date with her. Not just the pretty girl from the bar, or the pretty girl their age. She wasn't sure Cloud even thought she was pretty, and honestly, she didn't need to.
Except when he compliments her, she's turning even redder, dipping her head down in an embarrassed laugh. Okay, she did care if he thought she was pretty. Her hand brushes briefly on his thigh, before she wonders if that's too much and withdraws it to accept a menu.
Cloud...orders. She glances at him, her face wavering for a moment. She hasn't seen anything too off since they got here, though she's been with him less. Maybe....maybe being here has been good for him.
This time when he says that, she puts her hand more firmly on his knee, closing the tiny gap between their thighs. Her heart is pounding, but this feels important.
She knows what it is to feel like she's missed her chance, and anything could happen. To either of them. And-- ]
I'm glad we're getting this chance, even if this isn't how we ever could have expected to.
[ I like you. It's...redundant. A childish urge to just label what she feels then cover her face and wait to be accepted or rejected. It doesn't quite make it to her tongue, but it doesn't make it to her face.
She has absolutely no idea what she's doing. But -- if he's here, she can figure it out. ]
no subject
cloud had always shifted in between shades of disquieting insecurity and cutting temerity; but tonight, he wants... neither of those things. he wants to be unguarded and real and good, above all. to her. for her.
for once, he just wants this to work.
so his hand curls around hers, as if assuring her -- no, encouraging her to keep it there. that she could, that he wanted her to. ]
...I am too.
[ it's spoken firmly, but not so rigid that he thinks he might put her off. the waitress returns with two flutes of champagne, gold shimmering in the watercolor halogen light. never in his life did he think they'd be doing this, drinking alcohol far, far beyond their pay grade in a restaurant valued more than both of their lives combined.
it's... daunting. frightening. exhilarating, exciting. he pinches the stem of the glass between his fingers, a practice he had only learned due to a prior date here. ]
...Tifa.
[ he raises his glass, gesturing it towards her. a toast. ]
To making it this far. The two of us. Together.
no subject
That night flashes in her mind, long since tucked away, and she remembers how much she ached for him to touch her. Somehow his hand on hers is more shocking than anything she'd imagined. And much more grounding.
His words shake her from her surprise, features softening into something too soft as heat creeps onto her cheeks, but she doesn't mind. She squeezes his leg beneath her hand, just...happy.
And impressed when he raises a glass. Is that rude? Should she think more highly of him when she cares so much about him. It doesn't matter right now. She lifts her glass too, tipping it to clink lightly against his. ]
We sure have made it a long way, hmm? To us.
[ She pulls her glass back to sip. It's nice champagne, nicer than she's ever been able to afford except sampling for the bar. Maybe...maybe being here wasn't so bad. For now.
Her heart thuds wildly as she sips, Nami's advice about men and dating echoing in her mind. They're stupid. You have to tell them what you want, or they won't figure it out. Just ask. ]
Cloud...Would it be okay if I kissed you?
no subject
his heart stops in his throat. he looks to her, the blues of his eyes roiling, and the world around them slows -- just as it had that first night he saw her, draped in emerald. he blinks, silently, as the bustle of the restaurant fades into obscurity, the people around them an afterthought and nothing more.
and then without hesitation, the entirety of his body leans forward -- and his hand curls around her shoulder, feeling out tendon and muscle beneath the pads of his fingers, before he slots his lips against hers.
they're soft. just as soft as he'd imagined. no, better. cloud melts into her, the wick of a candle flickering in the dark. his grip does not relinquish; he's barely been given anything, and yet he finds himself chasing more, selfishly, greedily, as if this wasn't enough.
but it would do for now. his skin is alight, head trapped in between the throes of ecstasy and the haze of unreality. it's good. it's bad. it's everything he's ever wanted and more. ]
You don't have to ask. [ is all he says by the end. ]
no subject
And then a tiny startled gasp escapes her, swallowed by his mouth on hers. The hand on her shoulder feels huge and warm, and even as she presses back against his mouth, she wishes she knew how to ask for more.
He pulls back, and she doesn't want him to go, but she's still warm all over, smiling dazedly back at him as she squeezes his thigh. This was more than she ever thought-- she shouldn't feel disappointed, or worried.
But how do I know what's okay if I don't ask? It's a problem for another time. She doesn't want to spoil this. ]
You either, okay?
[ She reaches out very gingerly, brushing a little of his hair. It's stiff with whatever he's put in it, and somehow that reminds her it's Cloud, the awkward, sweet, earnest boy she's known forever. Her smile softens, and in another moment she's wrapped her arms around him, nestling into his shoulder even with the awkwardness of the booth and the table. ]
I'm so glad you're here.
[ The casino. This date. Her life. ]
no subject
but her lips on his, the way her palm skates up his thigh, the remnants of warmth that traverse his body: it was a betrayal of all they'd ever known. and cloud finds himself utterly engrossed by every second of it, wanting desperately to claw for more.
she presses her body against him. they seep into each other, in a manner so unlike that hug they'd shared in midgar. not a thing born from consolation or grief, but earnest affection.
a moment rooted in joy, the one thing they were never allowed to have. cloud's arms inch forward and he embraces her, the movement easy and slow; his cheek settles against her head. ]
...Me too.
[ and then under his breath, a quiet, soft sentiment-- ]
I've...
[ a beat. ]
I've wanted this for awhile, Tifa.
[ fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. ]
Maybe-- maybe it's... it's different here. Us. Our lives. What we're allowed to have.
no subject
Once, not so long ago, she'd maybe have pulled back from that touch, or tried to convince herself it wasn't that important. But after being here, after everything they've lost, she's not denying herself anything else. She nestles into his hold, closing her eyes against the pressure on her head.
Her heart skips again, at the hand against her hair, at the admission. How long? she wants to ask, but she can't quite muster it. ]
We'll make it different. If we're going to be here, then, we should make the best of it, you know?
[ And...maybe it would be easier here. To find a cure to whatever was wrong with him. But she wasn't bringing that up tonight either. ]
I don't care what we're allowed and not allowed to have. I'm tired of living under other people's rules.
no subject
but things have changed. the past, the future, them.
making the best of it: he'd always been bad at that. but the idea alone -- it sounds wonderful from her mouth. like a real possibility swimming against the current. he holds her in place, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the small of her back.
"i'm tired of living under other people's rules," she says, and his lips seal shut, spark sparking in his eyes. this place had something to her -- brought out the girl, headstrong and unwitting, as he'd always known her.
and he can't say no to that. ]
...Yeah. [ he speaks, docile by contrast. ] From one cage to the next, we might as well make something out of it. We...
We still have each other.
[ that sounds like something she'd say -- but maybe...
maybe he's learning. ]
Tifa. [ his voice is firm, if not inquisitive, before he musters the courage to ask: ] ...What do you want?
no subject
At least this one isn't sad. ]
I think maybe that's just life. It's always some kind of cage. You can't let that stop you from living, you know? Or else...what's the point of any of this?
[ She's maybe uncharacteristically melancholy. Or maybe honest. It's easy, to actually say what she thinks with him, not have to be the rock and the smile. She doesn't notice it, but she appreciates it. Like she's setting down a weight she doesn't realize she's carrying.
And she really does smile when he says that. It's one thing to think it herself, but to have him value it too -- things are weird between them. There's still...things she should ask him from home. But he's showed up for her. And that matters.
That question, though, makes her falter. She's glad for her hand on his leg, because this isn't something she's admitted to anyone. ]
I don't...know anymore. And that scares me. I used to think I just...wanted to get Seventh Heaven rebuilt as soon as possible. Help as many people who survived the plate...and I don't not want that I just...I've never had time to think about life outside Sector 7, or Nibelheim before that. I've always been trying to just keep above water. If I really could do anything with my life...I don't know. And I don't like not knowing.
[ She didn't mean to talk that much, and she looks back at him and her eyes widen slightly in embarrassment. ]
Or -- did you mean with...us?
no subject
he wonders why. but whys always came with a hurt he could never quantify, a pain that both grounded and muddled his existence. ]
I guess I'm just--
[ he eyes rove up, the slow crawl of the moonrise, and he grows meeker -- more like himself. like the boy she'd known at nibelheim, rather than the man at midgar. ]
Afraid. Of being trapped. I... I don't know why. But then I think about it, I...
[ no. he wouldn't let himself taint this. not as memories, swirling swathes of color sand voices, surface like broken capillaries swelling beneath a bruise. his fingers find hers, latching onto her for purchase as he shakes himself out of it.
and then. in a complete shift, he's at peace again -- as if nothing had happened at all. ]
...It's okay. [ he says, if to reassure both himself and her. wasn't that typically the case? it was -- had to be for both of them. ] ...Don't know either. For as long as I can remember, it's... been about surviving. Nothing less, nothing more.
[ he doesn't respond to her question, not immediately. but then quietly -- he leans into her, eyes transfixed on the soft contours of her face, of the way her eyes burn amber in contrast to his cerulean. ]
...Only if you want it to be about us.