Fic: Maybe Nothing (Loz/Tifa, Yazoo/Tifa)
Title: Maybe Nothing
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Loz/Tifa, Yazoo/Tifa
Author/artist: Alleya
Recipient: Redulet
Rating: PG
Prompt: “FFVII- Loz/Tifa "Always love your enemies- nothing annoys them so much." Who loves who is up to you, but I would like to see this applied to these two. And a fight scene would be great as well. Alternate pairing: SHM/Tifa. Well, why not go all the way?”
Authors Note: I worked with the prompt the best I could, I tried to be subtle on the feelings/emotions part. I hope it worked. I’m sorry if it’s confusing. Alternate Timeline, SHM live, non-DOC compliant
Summery: It always happened the same, except this time.
It was really hard completely hate someone when they kept hanging around and giving you a sort of kicked-puppy look every time you looked at them. He was really good at this particular expression, especially when he added some tears to the mix. And he always added tears. To everything.
It was a bit frustrating actually. How did you plant your fist into a face full of tears? She struggled with it, but always managed. Even as she felt like a huge monster for doing it. She couldn’t help it though. Just the sight of him made her seethe. He had, after all, kidnapped her foster daughter and tried to kill her friends. Not to mention the ass kicking he had laid on her.
It generally only took a few punches to get him fighting. Physical combat was in his blood and it was second nature to attack when you were being attacked. Without his Dual Hound, or his haste and restore materia, the battleground was much more even. He didn’t just keep getting up, nor did he simply speed around her as though she were barely moving. He struggled right along side her, ducking and pivoting, striking and blocking.
Her fist struck his face with a satisfying thud, but her triumph was short lived when he retaliated with a shot to her abdomen. Not willing to give him the satisfaction of doubling over, she jumped back and away from his swinging limbs.
She was well aware of the pain in her gut, as well as the heaving of her chest as her breath came in pants. He was extra stubborn that day. Normally they only fought long enough for him to get discouraged and retreat. Today, however, it had been almost an hour and he was still showing no signs of giving up.
His eyes were even more kicked-puppy-ish than usual, and he kept turning them on her in an imploring manner. Though he always frowned, today was no different, there was something almost confused about the expression. As if he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let him near her unless it was to strike at her. It had been that way for almost two years, why was he getting confused only now?
Her head hurt like it always did when he showed up. The mental anguish of having to beat up someone who clearly didn’t get it wore on her patience and her sanity. Why does it even bother me? It shouldn’t have. He had tried to kill her… he might have even succeeded had it not been for Marlene. Why was she feeling guilty about returning the favor?
“Why do you always want to play?”
Tifa blinked as she realized he was talking to her. Another oddity - he never talked to her, not after the fight began. “What?” She replied, lowering herself defensively, expecting an attack.
None came. He just blinked at her, his frown deepening. He tilted his head causing an errant strand of hair to fall in his face. “Why do you always want to play?” He repeated, this time with a little impatience.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That wasn’t true. She did know. To him ‘playing’ was synonymous with ‘fighting’. At least terminology wise. But it was easier to deny it than to admit it. If she admitted it then she would have to explain why, and the truth was, she didn’t know any more. She didn’t know why she attacked him on sight, didn’t know why the sight of him made her feel angry and guilty all at the same time. It was just easier not knowing.
“I don’t want to play with you,” he said, looking down, eyebrows furrowing deeper over his eyes. “Not like this.”
What exactly was he saying? That he didn’t really want to fight her was obvious from his constant attempts to avoid fighting her. But his insinuation said more than his actions. He wanted to play with her… just not in the capacity they were already playing in? Frustration and annoyance washed over Tifa as she could only stare incredulously at his frowning figure. She wondered if even he knew what the hell he was talking about.
“Yazoo agrees with me that you are pretty. He said that I should-” He cut off suddenly and stiffened, as if a brilliant idea had just come to him. His eyes met hers in a flash, and for the first time in almost two years, Tifa saw something other than a wounded animal.
There was excitement in his blue-green eyes and they practically glowed with it. It caused her to take a step back, her defensive stance forgotten. What’s going on? What’s he doing?
He was advancing on her, though not in a menacing fashion. He was almost hesitant and he looked almost shy, but the excitement remained. Irritation that he wasn’t leaving mixed with curiosity over what he was doing, freezing her in place. She watched with cautious, suspicious, ruby eyes as red spread over his cheeks in an awkward fashion. “He said I should give you something,” he continued when he was right in front of her.
Tifa jumped when he caught her shoulders and held her with more strength than she thought he had. She struggled against him, inwardly cursing at her own stupidity. She had just let him walk up to her, and now look where she was. Behind in her own game.
She froze as his lips made contact with her cheek. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. What the hell-
“That’s all I have.” He sounded almost apologetic, though this was lost on Tifa who still floundered like a fish. “Maybe next time you won’t want to play?”
And then he was walking away. Just like that he left her standing there, gaping after him, completely and utterly flabbergasted, among other things. She remained there long after he had disappeared, unable to move for all the confusion and disbelief that coursed through her.
Did that just happen?
“You know that saying “Always love your enemy-nothing annoys them so much”?” a dry voice cut through her incredulity. “Loz gives it a whole new meaning.”
Tifa whirled just in time to throw a punch in the general direction of the new ‘arrival’ - one that had obviously been watching her. He caught her fist however, and rather easily twisted it and her into the building a few feet away. Tifa’s back hit the concrete, her wrist pinned efficiently beside her head. When she attempted to strike at him with her free hand, he caught that one too and it joined its partner against the concrete. His body quickly followed, trapping her legs with his and restricting the rest of her movement.
“I’m not Loz,” he said in monotone, his eyes as dead as his voice.
The creepy one. Yazoo. Had he been watching her fight with his ‘brother’?
Out of all three of them he disturbed her the most. Kadaj was crazy, but she could deal with crazy. Loz was… innocent, in a twisted sort of way. But Yazoo… he was dangerous. Silent, blank, but clearly intelligent, he was the one that most reminded her of Sephiroth. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
“What do you want?” She demanded through clenched teeth, struggling against his hold.
“Maybe nothing,” he replied, eyes sliding over her face.
Tifa fought harder. “Let me go!” She had had enough of them for one day. Why did Cloud ever think letting them live was a good idea?
Once more the feeling of cold lips on her cheek stilled her, this time more out of horror than shock. One was a fluke, an unhappy turn of chance. Twice was a game she didn’t want to play.
And then he too was gone. Freed, Tifa slumped against the wall, her eyes searching rapidly to find the longhaired clone. Unlike his brother, however, he simply disappeared. There was no casual walking away, there was just empty air and silence.
Now her head really hurt and she felt vaguely violated. She was going home and taking a bath, preferably a long, hot one, and she was going to wipe the memory from her mind. There were only so many things a woman could take, and being kissed not once, but twice, by your enemy, was not among them.