FFVII Comp: "Reunion", for sekiharatae
Title: Reunion
For: sekiharatae
Medium: Fic
Request(s): Final Fantasy VII (post-AC preferred). Cloud/Tifa romantic relationship fic. Any rating. What kind of things might have been affected by mako, of which his significant other would be (or should be made) aware? Pheromone production, stamina, insomnia, who knows. Have fun, be original -- be serious, be silly. Just, please... don't shrink the dangly bits, and no glowing fluids.
Fandom(s): Final Fantasy VII (Post DoC)
Characters/Pairings: Cloud/Tifa
Rating/Warnings: PG
Feedback: Sure.
Spoilers: A tiny DoC spoiler, some AC spoiler.
Word Count: 1810
Summary: It was the annual reunion of the surviving Avalanche members. Right before dinner began, however, Tifa found herself outside looking at the snow.
Notes: Apologies for the fic being late. I normally write angsty yaoi so this had definitely been a challenge, although it was fun. I'm not sure this is exactly what you're looking for, but hopefully it's likable.
Fresh snow pelted at Tifa’s face as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Cosmo Canyon wasn’t really known for its winter blizzards, but the years had been strange after the departure of Weiss and the Tsviets. Perhaps the planet had finally begun to balance after the numerous poisonings of the Lifestream. Overall the climate had been milder all over the globe - the Northern Crater was now close to inhabitable after the massive snowmelt a few years ago - so such erratic weather at unlike places seemed to be an evening out of sorts.
Whether this was good or bad, Tifa couldn’t say. She rather enjoyed the dry red dust and the glorious night skies of the Canyon. She and Cloud used to spend a weekend here every other month, usually around the time Barret came home to see Marlene. The girl had grown so much in the past few years, almost catching up to Tifa’s height. It sometimes made Denzel complain.
“Don’t worry, Denzel,” Cloud would tell him. “You’ll be just as tall in no time.”
“But kids at school would always bring it up!” Denzel said.
“Just ignore them.”
Denzel would then grumble under his breath about how that never worked, and twelve-year-old Marlene, ever helpful, would then echo in her five-foot-one frame.
“Don’t worry, Denzel. I’ll help you fight them off.”
Tifa usually had to intervene in the brawl followed as Denzel attempted to save his pride. Laughter and possible tag fest would ensue, and Tifa, exhausted after running around with two teenage kids, would always end up draped across one of the beds, depending on the room. Moments later a figure would fall on top of her and, gently, wrap his arms around her.
“Where’re the kids?”
“Sent them out.”
They’d stay like this until it was time for dinner or for one of them to go on an errand. Sometimes they’d fall asleep like so if the bout was late enough, only waking up in the comforting dark to remove their shoes and crawl under the blankets.
“Yo,” a voice broke Tifa out of her reverie. “What’re you doing out here?”
She shivered a little and turned around. Cid stood by the doorway, lighting a cigarette. He waved the match out, flicked it aside, and took a deep drag, a satisfied smile on his face.
Tifa smiled. “I thought Shera made you quit.”
“Yeah, when I’m dead and buried,” Cid snickered.
“I see you’re at least not smoking around Kiya.”
“Babies are different.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ya haven’t answered my question yet.”
Tifa shrugged, taking one last look at the crystalline snow. The wind had let up somewhat, and all that surrounded her were dancing flakes glittering under the ethereal lights. “Just needed some fresh air. Plus, it’s nice out here.”
Cid jabbed toward the inside. “Just wanna tell ya dinner’s up.”
“Cloud sent you?”
“Nah, bastard’s busy getting drunk with the dead guy. Heh, might help bring a bit o’ color back to their mugs.”
Tifa’s expression darkened. “Vincent’s not dead, Cid. And that wasn’t funny.”
She knew she overreacted, but those words had struck a nerve. From Cid’s reaction he seemed to have also realized the inappropriateness, and, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, offered a “sorry kiddo, you know I don’t mean nothing” as she walked past. As soon as she came through the warm barrier of the room, however, a pang of guilt struck. Cid didn’t mean any harm, and she was a bit edgy tonight.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just that -.”
Cid waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, forget it. It was a bad joke. Wasn’t thinkin’ ya know?”
“Captain, what did you say this time?” a voice cut in from behind her. Shera, now the official Mrs. Highwind, came up to them with their baby daughter in her arms. The direction of her glare was clear as to whom she was addressing.
“Nothing! I’m having a conversation, woman. And I thought I told you to make me a goddamn sandwich.”
“Didn’t you agree not to swear in front of Kiya?“
“I fuc- er, dammit!”
“That’s still a swear.”
“Oh fer crying out loud-“
Tifa turned away from the bickering couple chuckling to herself. As much as Cid seemed to rip on Shera, everyone could see his affection toward her. It reminded her of the days with Cloud and Barret’s constant quarreling. Little did people expect that it was actually Barret who supported Cloud the most when the sickness struck, and without his influence Cloud probably wouldn’t have had the courage to ask her hand in marriage, and having the subsequent wedding at Aeris’s renovated church.
She took the coat off to hang it up by the wall. Sweeping across the room, she caught the familiar shadow of her husband, standing near the bar and talking to none other than Vincent Valentine. Cloud was pouring a glass of what looked like wine into a glass. Tifa frowned - he wouldn’t really be drinking, would he? - she quickly walked toward the companions, hoping Cid’s joke had not turned into a prophesy.
“Hey,” Cloud turned when he heard her footsteps. He could recognize practically every single sound she made by now. “Where’ve you been? We were just talking about you.”
“Outside - the snow’s really nice this year,” she answered, then asked, as casually as she could. “Is that drink supposed to be for me?”
“Actually, that was for me,” Vincent spoke up. “But would you like some?”
“Oh no no,” Tifa answered, her heart lightening. “I was asking because I thought-“
“That I'd go back on my word?” Cloud cut in, his tone humorous. He handed the wine glass to Vincent, who took it in his only hand. Cloud turned toward her, planting a quick kiss on her temple. “You worry too much about me.”
The coldness of his lips cut in to her like a knife. “I can’t help it,” she explained, and moved closer to him. The sickness radiated from his skin, making her itch. But it only made her more determined to lean closer and linking their arms together. The Mako hadn’t kept her away before, and it wasn’t about to now, when they were so close to the end.
It had been more than a year since Cloud - and everyone who had ever came in contact with tainted Mako and Geostigma four years ago (or in Vincent’s case, more than thirty) - had contracted the last and final wave of what would be considered the planet’s cleansing. Along with the erratic weather, formerly infected individuals would experience a sick sensation as the last remnant of their poisoning began to flush out of their body. For most people it was a minor discomfort - an itch on their forehead, as with Denzel. A peel of skin, a sudden bulbous blood clot that went away in a few days, a sudden assault of blindness that alleviated as time marched on. People eventually did recover, but the time it took and the severity was proportional the amount of Mako within their body.
In the case of extensively Mako-enhanced ones the sickness was swift and lingering. Tifa had woken up in bed one morning a year ago to discover that the ever-vibrant hair of her husband had become a dull grey mess. An oily shine covered his skin, turning the healthy color into something akin to a drowned man’s hand. They got into a panic, fearing that the One-Winged Angel had somehow made another debut, and called everyone on the PHS. The frenzy was intensified when Vincent showed up, capeless and limping, bearing a pain that was apparent on his usual pale expression. When queried he only calmly rolled up his left sleeve, and revealed to the horrified crew what was left of his claw. The limb had dried into something like a dead tree bark, and bits of ash flecked off with his every move.
Eventually someone thought of to turn on the news, and the information coming from all over the globe had told the Avalanche that this wasn’t exactly like the past invasions. As the weeks gone by it became apparent that everyone who had the onslaught was recovering and becoming much healthier than before. Patience was what they had to depend on, and patience Tifa bore, along with the rest of their 7th Heaven family. She only forbid Cloud to drink anything other than water until the infestation left in fear of complications. Cloud gladly obliged, and even though his appearance was at first ghastly, he felt no extreme pain or discomfort. It was a small relief on Tifa’s heart.
Vincent Valentine, however, proved to be much less patient than he normally was. With the help of Cloud’s shortest sword and the blond man himself, he severed the already decaying piece of flesh from just above the elbow one Sunday morning. “Quicker is better if it was going to disintegrate anyway,” Vincent had said. He tied his shirtsleeve around his bleeding stump, and left without another word.
“Here, try some,” Cloud handed Tifa a glass of wine. “This is supposedly very good.”
“Trying to loosen me up for something, Chocobo head?” She teased him good-naturedly. Logically Cloud’s hair was the first feature to recover from the onslaught. Its color and texture had come back a few weeks ago, brighter and spikier than ever.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Not that I need to.”
Tifa noticed out of the corner of her eye that Vincent had quietly slipped away to rejoin the rest of the group. She smiled and wrapped her arm around Cloud’s neck, looking into his blue eyes devoid of the Mako mist. As a response to his not-quite-so-innocent line she tightened her grip. Cloud clearly felt the pressure, and, chuckling, put the glass back down on the table. They might get into a sparring session later, and Tifa was beginning to look forward to some exercise in the snow.
“You hungry?” he asked. “Dinner’s starting.”
“A little,” she admitted. “This has turned into quite a feast for our yearly reunion, huh?”
“We did save the planet twice.”
“You think we got it made as heroes?”
“Well, I don't know,” Cloud hesitated, seeming to contemplate something far back in his past. “I think being normal is sometimes the best thing.”
Tifa nodded in agreement. With their hands still linked together, they walked toward the rest of the surviving Avalanche members. Yuffie was already hording all the hot buns, as Red tried to swipe some back with his paws. Tifa smiled at the scene. The hand holding hers still felt cold and clammy, but she knew soon that she would be able to feel the normal warmth from Cloud’s grip again, and that was a day she was definitely looking forward to.
For: sekiharatae
Medium: Fic
Request(s): Final Fantasy VII (post-AC preferred). Cloud/Tifa romantic relationship fic. Any rating. What kind of things might have been affected by mako, of which his significant other would be (or should be made) aware? Pheromone production, stamina, insomnia, who knows. Have fun, be original -- be serious, be silly. Just, please... don't shrink the dangly bits, and no glowing fluids.
Fandom(s): Final Fantasy VII (Post DoC)
Characters/Pairings: Cloud/Tifa
Rating/Warnings: PG
Feedback: Sure.
Spoilers: A tiny DoC spoiler, some AC spoiler.
Word Count: 1810
Summary: It was the annual reunion of the surviving Avalanche members. Right before dinner began, however, Tifa found herself outside looking at the snow.
Notes: Apologies for the fic being late. I normally write angsty yaoi so this had definitely been a challenge, although it was fun. I'm not sure this is exactly what you're looking for, but hopefully it's likable.
Fresh snow pelted at Tifa’s face as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Cosmo Canyon wasn’t really known for its winter blizzards, but the years had been strange after the departure of Weiss and the Tsviets. Perhaps the planet had finally begun to balance after the numerous poisonings of the Lifestream. Overall the climate had been milder all over the globe - the Northern Crater was now close to inhabitable after the massive snowmelt a few years ago - so such erratic weather at unlike places seemed to be an evening out of sorts.
Whether this was good or bad, Tifa couldn’t say. She rather enjoyed the dry red dust and the glorious night skies of the Canyon. She and Cloud used to spend a weekend here every other month, usually around the time Barret came home to see Marlene. The girl had grown so much in the past few years, almost catching up to Tifa’s height. It sometimes made Denzel complain.
“Don’t worry, Denzel,” Cloud would tell him. “You’ll be just as tall in no time.”
“But kids at school would always bring it up!” Denzel said.
“Just ignore them.”
Denzel would then grumble under his breath about how that never worked, and twelve-year-old Marlene, ever helpful, would then echo in her five-foot-one frame.
“Don’t worry, Denzel. I’ll help you fight them off.”
Tifa usually had to intervene in the brawl followed as Denzel attempted to save his pride. Laughter and possible tag fest would ensue, and Tifa, exhausted after running around with two teenage kids, would always end up draped across one of the beds, depending on the room. Moments later a figure would fall on top of her and, gently, wrap his arms around her.
“Where’re the kids?”
“Sent them out.”
They’d stay like this until it was time for dinner or for one of them to go on an errand. Sometimes they’d fall asleep like so if the bout was late enough, only waking up in the comforting dark to remove their shoes and crawl under the blankets.
“Yo,” a voice broke Tifa out of her reverie. “What’re you doing out here?”
She shivered a little and turned around. Cid stood by the doorway, lighting a cigarette. He waved the match out, flicked it aside, and took a deep drag, a satisfied smile on his face.
Tifa smiled. “I thought Shera made you quit.”
“Yeah, when I’m dead and buried,” Cid snickered.
“I see you’re at least not smoking around Kiya.”
“Babies are different.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ya haven’t answered my question yet.”
Tifa shrugged, taking one last look at the crystalline snow. The wind had let up somewhat, and all that surrounded her were dancing flakes glittering under the ethereal lights. “Just needed some fresh air. Plus, it’s nice out here.”
Cid jabbed toward the inside. “Just wanna tell ya dinner’s up.”
“Cloud sent you?”
“Nah, bastard’s busy getting drunk with the dead guy. Heh, might help bring a bit o’ color back to their mugs.”
Tifa’s expression darkened. “Vincent’s not dead, Cid. And that wasn’t funny.”
She knew she overreacted, but those words had struck a nerve. From Cid’s reaction he seemed to have also realized the inappropriateness, and, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, offered a “sorry kiddo, you know I don’t mean nothing” as she walked past. As soon as she came through the warm barrier of the room, however, a pang of guilt struck. Cid didn’t mean any harm, and she was a bit edgy tonight.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just that -.”
Cid waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, forget it. It was a bad joke. Wasn’t thinkin’ ya know?”
“Captain, what did you say this time?” a voice cut in from behind her. Shera, now the official Mrs. Highwind, came up to them with their baby daughter in her arms. The direction of her glare was clear as to whom she was addressing.
“Nothing! I’m having a conversation, woman. And I thought I told you to make me a goddamn sandwich.”
“Didn’t you agree not to swear in front of Kiya?“
“I fuc- er, dammit!”
“That’s still a swear.”
“Oh fer crying out loud-“
Tifa turned away from the bickering couple chuckling to herself. As much as Cid seemed to rip on Shera, everyone could see his affection toward her. It reminded her of the days with Cloud and Barret’s constant quarreling. Little did people expect that it was actually Barret who supported Cloud the most when the sickness struck, and without his influence Cloud probably wouldn’t have had the courage to ask her hand in marriage, and having the subsequent wedding at Aeris’s renovated church.
She took the coat off to hang it up by the wall. Sweeping across the room, she caught the familiar shadow of her husband, standing near the bar and talking to none other than Vincent Valentine. Cloud was pouring a glass of what looked like wine into a glass. Tifa frowned - he wouldn’t really be drinking, would he? - she quickly walked toward the companions, hoping Cid’s joke had not turned into a prophesy.
“Hey,” Cloud turned when he heard her footsteps. He could recognize practically every single sound she made by now. “Where’ve you been? We were just talking about you.”
“Outside - the snow’s really nice this year,” she answered, then asked, as casually as she could. “Is that drink supposed to be for me?”
“Actually, that was for me,” Vincent spoke up. “But would you like some?”
“Oh no no,” Tifa answered, her heart lightening. “I was asking because I thought-“
“That I'd go back on my word?” Cloud cut in, his tone humorous. He handed the wine glass to Vincent, who took it in his only hand. Cloud turned toward her, planting a quick kiss on her temple. “You worry too much about me.”
The coldness of his lips cut in to her like a knife. “I can’t help it,” she explained, and moved closer to him. The sickness radiated from his skin, making her itch. But it only made her more determined to lean closer and linking their arms together. The Mako hadn’t kept her away before, and it wasn’t about to now, when they were so close to the end.
It had been more than a year since Cloud - and everyone who had ever came in contact with tainted Mako and Geostigma four years ago (or in Vincent’s case, more than thirty) - had contracted the last and final wave of what would be considered the planet’s cleansing. Along with the erratic weather, formerly infected individuals would experience a sick sensation as the last remnant of their poisoning began to flush out of their body. For most people it was a minor discomfort - an itch on their forehead, as with Denzel. A peel of skin, a sudden bulbous blood clot that went away in a few days, a sudden assault of blindness that alleviated as time marched on. People eventually did recover, but the time it took and the severity was proportional the amount of Mako within their body.
In the case of extensively Mako-enhanced ones the sickness was swift and lingering. Tifa had woken up in bed one morning a year ago to discover that the ever-vibrant hair of her husband had become a dull grey mess. An oily shine covered his skin, turning the healthy color into something akin to a drowned man’s hand. They got into a panic, fearing that the One-Winged Angel had somehow made another debut, and called everyone on the PHS. The frenzy was intensified when Vincent showed up, capeless and limping, bearing a pain that was apparent on his usual pale expression. When queried he only calmly rolled up his left sleeve, and revealed to the horrified crew what was left of his claw. The limb had dried into something like a dead tree bark, and bits of ash flecked off with his every move.
Eventually someone thought of to turn on the news, and the information coming from all over the globe had told the Avalanche that this wasn’t exactly like the past invasions. As the weeks gone by it became apparent that everyone who had the onslaught was recovering and becoming much healthier than before. Patience was what they had to depend on, and patience Tifa bore, along with the rest of their 7th Heaven family. She only forbid Cloud to drink anything other than water until the infestation left in fear of complications. Cloud gladly obliged, and even though his appearance was at first ghastly, he felt no extreme pain or discomfort. It was a small relief on Tifa’s heart.
Vincent Valentine, however, proved to be much less patient than he normally was. With the help of Cloud’s shortest sword and the blond man himself, he severed the already decaying piece of flesh from just above the elbow one Sunday morning. “Quicker is better if it was going to disintegrate anyway,” Vincent had said. He tied his shirtsleeve around his bleeding stump, and left without another word.
“Here, try some,” Cloud handed Tifa a glass of wine. “This is supposedly very good.”
“Trying to loosen me up for something, Chocobo head?” She teased him good-naturedly. Logically Cloud’s hair was the first feature to recover from the onslaught. Its color and texture had come back a few weeks ago, brighter and spikier than ever.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Not that I need to.”
Tifa noticed out of the corner of her eye that Vincent had quietly slipped away to rejoin the rest of the group. She smiled and wrapped her arm around Cloud’s neck, looking into his blue eyes devoid of the Mako mist. As a response to his not-quite-so-innocent line she tightened her grip. Cloud clearly felt the pressure, and, chuckling, put the glass back down on the table. They might get into a sparring session later, and Tifa was beginning to look forward to some exercise in the snow.
“You hungry?” he asked. “Dinner’s starting.”
“A little,” she admitted. “This has turned into quite a feast for our yearly reunion, huh?”
“We did save the planet twice.”
“You think we got it made as heroes?”
“Well, I don't know,” Cloud hesitated, seeming to contemplate something far back in his past. “I think being normal is sometimes the best thing.”
Tifa nodded in agreement. With their hands still linked together, they walked toward the rest of the surviving Avalanche members. Yuffie was already hording all the hot buns, as Red tried to swipe some back with his paws. Tifa smiled at the scene. The hand holding hers still felt cold and clammy, but she knew soon that she would be able to feel the normal warmth from Cloud’s grip again, and that was a day she was definitely looking forward to.