[fic] 16candles_fics: Playing House
Series: Luminescence [6/16]
Prompt: 3 - Warm Glow
Title: Playing House
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Rufus Shinra, Tifa Lockhart
Rating: PG
Summary: A morning. A meal. A moment.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all of its characters belong to Square-Enix.
Notes: Man, this is long overdue already! But since NaNo was a pain and didn't allow me to at least work on my other fandoms during November, this chapter was pushed to one side wtf.
Chapter 6: Playing House
It was still raining that morning as well, sleepy Edge looking more and more gloomy in the mist. The sun had already risen, the bedside clock telling her that it was already a little bit over six in the morning but the dark rain clouds were obscuring it from sight, an opaque veil of condensed water. Tifa let out a sigh as her fingers released the blinds, a frown line creasing her forehead. She had barely slept. She just wasn’t used to it, a large bed with silk covers and too fluffy pillows. She would never get used to it, no matter how many times, how many hours she would sleep on it. Perhaps she should’ve just argued over the couch. With another sigh, she pulled her hair into a ponytail with the red ribbon usually tied around her arm and decided to start her day’s work-
-Only for her to realize that she was not back in Seventh Heaven. There was no need for her to do her usual chores, no one waiting for her to start.
She paused halfway down the staircase, a hand still fixing her hair. Did she suddenly forget that she was still in Rufus Shinra’s house at the moment? It seemed ridiculous, forgetting such glaring evidence that was the white walls. Was Cloud, by any chance, even looking for her? Probably. He’s most likely tearing the house apart in search for her. Or probably not. Perhaps he had not even realized that she was gone and, like always, he would simply leave without a note or a word. She was not sure. She didn’t want to call home.
Tifa shook her head dismissively after finally landing in the narrow hallway, her free hand on the wall as she tried to find her way under the muted lights of the house. It was quiet, too quiet, that she could probably hear a pin hitting the ground. She felt a set of switches and flicked one of them. Studio lights set on the ceiling of the corridor flickered on before she quickly turned them off, peering out into the void-like space of the living room. There was that eerie feeling again prickling at the back of her neck. The kitchen should be on the other side - she was allowed to use it, Rufus had mentioned - and very quietly, Tifa padded barefoot across the dimly lit expanse of the lounge to the kitchen.
The owner of the unit was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, unaware of his guest currently going on an excursion around his house. He was on his side, facing the coffee table, his arms hanging over the edge of the sofa, his book now forgotten on the floor and his blanket haphazardly thrown over him. He had a rather strange calm expression on his face, removed of any stress or tension, his blond hair tousled.
Tifa fought the urge to laugh loudly, all quandaries from last night forgotten, as she watched him from the corner of her eyes. He didn’t look like the usual Rufus Shinra, stern and impassive. There was no commanding presence in him, no authoritative aura. He looked, well, normal. Maybe, if she had never seen him before, if she had never known what he was like, she would’ve thought that that person was not him at all. He seemed younger, almost her age.
She then paused, a bit hesitant, before she walked over to his figure, glancing at his face. He seemed asleep. He looked and sounded asleep, probably tired from last night. And with her tagging along him, no wonder he was dead to the world. She hesitated again to pick up his fallen book and fix his blanket. Would he suddenly wake up from a sudden movement? Was he a deep sleeper?
Trying to do it as quickly and as quietly as possible, Tifa had bent over to pick up the book, her ponytail falling over her shoulders, her arm barely brushing with his hand, when, much to her astonishment - and near-heart failure moment -, a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, the grip tight but gentle.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was hoarse and still sounded sleepy, still full of dreams.
“I’m uh…” What was she doing? Dark eyes flickered at the book held tightly in her fingers. “I’m just picking up your book. It fell to the floor.”
So much for a deep sleeper, he was like a cat, alive and awake at the slightest sound. She gazed at him from the corner of her eyes, watching him sat up, the blanket falling to the floor, and blinked himself awake while fumbling with one hand for the switch of the lamp, his other hand still around her wrist. After a moment, it flicked on, bathing the living room in a warm glow. He resembled more and more like a child under the soft light of the lamp, reminding her of Denzel, his messy hair falling over his eyes, his pajamas crumpled and creased, stifling a yawn every now and then only to fail, seemingly more tired than ever.
She peered at his face, frowning slightly. He obviously wasn’t used to sleeping on the couch. If that was the case, then he shouldn’t have offered the bed, the arrogant prick.
“You should go upstairs and sleep some more,” she told him with a slight smile. “You look like you’re going to pass out anytime.”
“I’m fine.”
Sure you are, she wanted to retort but bit back her tongue. With another smile, she gently tried to tug her arm and wrist out of his grip, causing him to look up at her direction. She wasn’t sure if he was still half-asleep but she rather felt that the grasp on her wrist almost seemed insistent, not wanting to let go, not wanting her to leave.
“You really should sleep for another hour,” she repeated gently like a mother to her young son. “I’ll wake you up after I cook breakfast.”
Without another word, he released her arm and swung his legs over the side of the sofa and without another glance, she stalked towards the kitchen, the book still in one hand, her other hand moving to her wrist. Upon arriving there, quickly noticing the switch on the wall, Tifa let light flooded the entire room, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, before she had realized that she was still holding Rufus’s book. The Inferno. She frowned at the cover, a devil stepping on the back of a human, setting it on the table. It was strange, that feeling she had earlier. Almost familiar and yet… how should she put it? Unusual?
It was the first time she had seen him react like that. Perhaps he was still half-asleep, still dreaming during that time. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t confirm and he didn’t say anything else aside from “I’m fine”. Still, it really was unusual, seeing that look in his eyes, a confused glint in them. What was he thinking that moment? What was he seeing? She shifted her weight from one leg to another, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Was she thinking too much again?
Tifa stopped in mid-thought, realizing what she was doing, realizing what she was thinking. She should be cooking breakfast, as she had suddenly blurted out to the young President earlier, not pondering on rather pointless and trivial things. Shaking her head dismissively, she started to move around the kitchen effortlessly, pulling several things from the shelves, taking out food from the ref, opening every drawer and cupboard in search of utensils. It was a kitchen and if there was any specific territory inside a house where she commanded authority, it was that.
Soon, the comforting scent of coffee and the sound of egg and bacon sizzling on the pain filled the kitchen, mingling with the sound of the morning rain from outside. It reminded her of home, of Seventh Heaven, of her breakfast moments with Marlene and Denzel, enough for her to almost fail to remember that she was in another house, cooking for another set of people. The sheer whiteness and spotlessness of the kitchen was a wake-up call to her. Even the silky feel of her clothes against her skin, it felt too surreal.
“Did I frighten you earlier?”
Tifa nearly dropped the pan she was holding upon hearing the voice and wordlessly spun around, a look of disbelief and surprise on her face. Rufus stood in the middle of the kitchen, a number of feet away from her, his hair combed and his night clothes straightened and fixed, his expression blank once more. On one hand, he held a newspaper. How he had managed to arrive there without her noticing his presence, she had no idea.
“Why are you wearing such a strange look?” he asked as he strode towards the ref, peering inside.
She followed his movements with her eyes, unspeaking for a few minutes, before she opened her mouth, setting down the pan she had been holding. “I thought you were asleep.”
“It’s already past six. I have work at eight,” he replied calmly, returning to the dining table empty-handed and taking seat.
She stared at him, a frown crease on her forehead, before she turned back to what she was doing. “Is that right? You could’ve said so last night. I would’ve woken you up and-”
“You would’ve kissed and greeted me a good morning?”
Tifa froze at his words and whipped around, a look of disbelief on her features, only to find the male in question seated at the table, hidden behind his newspaper. Irritated by his nonchalance, she stormed over to him and snatched the paper away, which merely crumpled under her tight grip. Rufus looked up at her with mild curiosity, a pale eyebrow raised.
“What the hell does that supposed to mean?”
“’That’ meaning that remark?” He leaned his chin on a palm, frowning at her in exasperation. “It meant what it should mean. I doubt that there are other meanings to it aside from literally.”
How she wanted to roll the newspaper and hit him across the face with it. However, she could obviously see where he was coming at. Standing in the middle of the kitchen like that, the both of them still dressed in pajamas… Much to her displeasure, the image of a housewife was slowly coming into picture. And it did not help much, that Rufus was looking rather content and amused as he peered at her. It really was one of those days. One of those days.
“Fine!” She let go of his newspaper and stalked out of the kitchen and back to the living room, rolling her eyes in disbelief and annoyance.
“You could have at least turned off the stove.”
He really was getting amusement out of all of this. She found that rather apparent from his actions. Perhaps the thing earlier was a part of this as well. He must’ve found it funny to unsuspectingly fool her. A kid who had picked up a stray kitten, that felt like their circumstance at the moment. She plopped down on the sofa with a sigh, her gaze landing briefly on the blanket crumpled at the other end of the seat. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She didn’t know who was more stupid: him, for even taking her under his wing, or her, for even believing him. But it wasn’t as if-
Her train of thoughts was cut short at the chime of the doorbell, a sound that seemed to have rang throughout the empty house. Almost immediately, she had instinctively stood up to answer the door, despite her doubts and inquiries about the existence of the doorbell. It seemed out of place, seeing that Rufus was the type of person who would not want to be disturbed.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Miss… Lockhart?”
She blinked twice at the young man in front of her, taking in his impassive expression, his long dark hair and the blonde female beside him, the both of them looking surprised, apprehensive and bewildered. And the suits they were wearing, there was no mistaking them. She could bet everything she owned that she was the reason for that perplexity.
“Tseng and Elena… right?”
The male Turk gave her a slight, hesitant smile. “Yes. However, may I ask what-”
“Lockhart, you might want to instruct me as to how - Tseng, has the assignment I’ve given you been done already?”
Tifa fought the urge to slap her forehead in exasperation upon hearing that familiar voice floating over her shoulders. She could not even make herself to turn around and look at Rufus. He didn’t seem to be surprised seeing two of his four Turks to be standing at his doorway, gaping at them. Both still dressed in complementing pajamas, one them of at the door, the other at the kitchen. One could only imagine what might have happened if it was not Tseng and Elena who had seen them but Reno. Elena, much to Tifa’s relief, seemed to be thinking the same thing.
The female Turk glanced from Tseng, whose face was quite indecipherable, to Tifa, an awkward smile on her lips.
“I’m certain we could report to the President over a cup of coffee, right?”
Tifa could only wish that the ground could swallow her at that moment.
Full chapter guide
Prompt: 3 - Warm Glow
Title: Playing House
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Rufus Shinra, Tifa Lockhart
Rating: PG
Summary: A morning. A meal. A moment.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all of its characters belong to Square-Enix.
Notes: Man, this is long overdue already! But since NaNo was a pain and didn't allow me to at least work on my other fandoms during November, this chapter was pushed to one side wtf.
Chapter 6: Playing House
It was still raining that morning as well, sleepy Edge looking more and more gloomy in the mist. The sun had already risen, the bedside clock telling her that it was already a little bit over six in the morning but the dark rain clouds were obscuring it from sight, an opaque veil of condensed water. Tifa let out a sigh as her fingers released the blinds, a frown line creasing her forehead. She had barely slept. She just wasn’t used to it, a large bed with silk covers and too fluffy pillows. She would never get used to it, no matter how many times, how many hours she would sleep on it. Perhaps she should’ve just argued over the couch. With another sigh, she pulled her hair into a ponytail with the red ribbon usually tied around her arm and decided to start her day’s work-
-Only for her to realize that she was not back in Seventh Heaven. There was no need for her to do her usual chores, no one waiting for her to start.
She paused halfway down the staircase, a hand still fixing her hair. Did she suddenly forget that she was still in Rufus Shinra’s house at the moment? It seemed ridiculous, forgetting such glaring evidence that was the white walls. Was Cloud, by any chance, even looking for her? Probably. He’s most likely tearing the house apart in search for her. Or probably not. Perhaps he had not even realized that she was gone and, like always, he would simply leave without a note or a word. She was not sure. She didn’t want to call home.
Tifa shook her head dismissively after finally landing in the narrow hallway, her free hand on the wall as she tried to find her way under the muted lights of the house. It was quiet, too quiet, that she could probably hear a pin hitting the ground. She felt a set of switches and flicked one of them. Studio lights set on the ceiling of the corridor flickered on before she quickly turned them off, peering out into the void-like space of the living room. There was that eerie feeling again prickling at the back of her neck. The kitchen should be on the other side - she was allowed to use it, Rufus had mentioned - and very quietly, Tifa padded barefoot across the dimly lit expanse of the lounge to the kitchen.
The owner of the unit was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, unaware of his guest currently going on an excursion around his house. He was on his side, facing the coffee table, his arms hanging over the edge of the sofa, his book now forgotten on the floor and his blanket haphazardly thrown over him. He had a rather strange calm expression on his face, removed of any stress or tension, his blond hair tousled.
Tifa fought the urge to laugh loudly, all quandaries from last night forgotten, as she watched him from the corner of her eyes. He didn’t look like the usual Rufus Shinra, stern and impassive. There was no commanding presence in him, no authoritative aura. He looked, well, normal. Maybe, if she had never seen him before, if she had never known what he was like, she would’ve thought that that person was not him at all. He seemed younger, almost her age.
She then paused, a bit hesitant, before she walked over to his figure, glancing at his face. He seemed asleep. He looked and sounded asleep, probably tired from last night. And with her tagging along him, no wonder he was dead to the world. She hesitated again to pick up his fallen book and fix his blanket. Would he suddenly wake up from a sudden movement? Was he a deep sleeper?
Trying to do it as quickly and as quietly as possible, Tifa had bent over to pick up the book, her ponytail falling over her shoulders, her arm barely brushing with his hand, when, much to her astonishment - and near-heart failure moment -, a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, the grip tight but gentle.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was hoarse and still sounded sleepy, still full of dreams.
“I’m uh…” What was she doing? Dark eyes flickered at the book held tightly in her fingers. “I’m just picking up your book. It fell to the floor.”
So much for a deep sleeper, he was like a cat, alive and awake at the slightest sound. She gazed at him from the corner of her eyes, watching him sat up, the blanket falling to the floor, and blinked himself awake while fumbling with one hand for the switch of the lamp, his other hand still around her wrist. After a moment, it flicked on, bathing the living room in a warm glow. He resembled more and more like a child under the soft light of the lamp, reminding her of Denzel, his messy hair falling over his eyes, his pajamas crumpled and creased, stifling a yawn every now and then only to fail, seemingly more tired than ever.
She peered at his face, frowning slightly. He obviously wasn’t used to sleeping on the couch. If that was the case, then he shouldn’t have offered the bed, the arrogant prick.
“You should go upstairs and sleep some more,” she told him with a slight smile. “You look like you’re going to pass out anytime.”
“I’m fine.”
Sure you are, she wanted to retort but bit back her tongue. With another smile, she gently tried to tug her arm and wrist out of his grip, causing him to look up at her direction. She wasn’t sure if he was still half-asleep but she rather felt that the grasp on her wrist almost seemed insistent, not wanting to let go, not wanting her to leave.
“You really should sleep for another hour,” she repeated gently like a mother to her young son. “I’ll wake you up after I cook breakfast.”
Without another word, he released her arm and swung his legs over the side of the sofa and without another glance, she stalked towards the kitchen, the book still in one hand, her other hand moving to her wrist. Upon arriving there, quickly noticing the switch on the wall, Tifa let light flooded the entire room, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, before she had realized that she was still holding Rufus’s book. The Inferno. She frowned at the cover, a devil stepping on the back of a human, setting it on the table. It was strange, that feeling she had earlier. Almost familiar and yet… how should she put it? Unusual?
It was the first time she had seen him react like that. Perhaps he was still half-asleep, still dreaming during that time. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t confirm and he didn’t say anything else aside from “I’m fine”. Still, it really was unusual, seeing that look in his eyes, a confused glint in them. What was he thinking that moment? What was he seeing? She shifted her weight from one leg to another, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Was she thinking too much again?
Tifa stopped in mid-thought, realizing what she was doing, realizing what she was thinking. She should be cooking breakfast, as she had suddenly blurted out to the young President earlier, not pondering on rather pointless and trivial things. Shaking her head dismissively, she started to move around the kitchen effortlessly, pulling several things from the shelves, taking out food from the ref, opening every drawer and cupboard in search of utensils. It was a kitchen and if there was any specific territory inside a house where she commanded authority, it was that.
Soon, the comforting scent of coffee and the sound of egg and bacon sizzling on the pain filled the kitchen, mingling with the sound of the morning rain from outside. It reminded her of home, of Seventh Heaven, of her breakfast moments with Marlene and Denzel, enough for her to almost fail to remember that she was in another house, cooking for another set of people. The sheer whiteness and spotlessness of the kitchen was a wake-up call to her. Even the silky feel of her clothes against her skin, it felt too surreal.
“Did I frighten you earlier?”
Tifa nearly dropped the pan she was holding upon hearing the voice and wordlessly spun around, a look of disbelief and surprise on her face. Rufus stood in the middle of the kitchen, a number of feet away from her, his hair combed and his night clothes straightened and fixed, his expression blank once more. On one hand, he held a newspaper. How he had managed to arrive there without her noticing his presence, she had no idea.
“Why are you wearing such a strange look?” he asked as he strode towards the ref, peering inside.
She followed his movements with her eyes, unspeaking for a few minutes, before she opened her mouth, setting down the pan she had been holding. “I thought you were asleep.”
“It’s already past six. I have work at eight,” he replied calmly, returning to the dining table empty-handed and taking seat.
She stared at him, a frown crease on her forehead, before she turned back to what she was doing. “Is that right? You could’ve said so last night. I would’ve woken you up and-”
“You would’ve kissed and greeted me a good morning?”
Tifa froze at his words and whipped around, a look of disbelief on her features, only to find the male in question seated at the table, hidden behind his newspaper. Irritated by his nonchalance, she stormed over to him and snatched the paper away, which merely crumpled under her tight grip. Rufus looked up at her with mild curiosity, a pale eyebrow raised.
“What the hell does that supposed to mean?”
“’That’ meaning that remark?” He leaned his chin on a palm, frowning at her in exasperation. “It meant what it should mean. I doubt that there are other meanings to it aside from literally.”
How she wanted to roll the newspaper and hit him across the face with it. However, she could obviously see where he was coming at. Standing in the middle of the kitchen like that, the both of them still dressed in pajamas… Much to her displeasure, the image of a housewife was slowly coming into picture. And it did not help much, that Rufus was looking rather content and amused as he peered at her. It really was one of those days. One of those days.
“Fine!” She let go of his newspaper and stalked out of the kitchen and back to the living room, rolling her eyes in disbelief and annoyance.
“You could have at least turned off the stove.”
He really was getting amusement out of all of this. She found that rather apparent from his actions. Perhaps the thing earlier was a part of this as well. He must’ve found it funny to unsuspectingly fool her. A kid who had picked up a stray kitten, that felt like their circumstance at the moment. She plopped down on the sofa with a sigh, her gaze landing briefly on the blanket crumpled at the other end of the seat. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She didn’t know who was more stupid: him, for even taking her under his wing, or her, for even believing him. But it wasn’t as if-
Her train of thoughts was cut short at the chime of the doorbell, a sound that seemed to have rang throughout the empty house. Almost immediately, she had instinctively stood up to answer the door, despite her doubts and inquiries about the existence of the doorbell. It seemed out of place, seeing that Rufus was the type of person who would not want to be disturbed.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Miss… Lockhart?”
She blinked twice at the young man in front of her, taking in his impassive expression, his long dark hair and the blonde female beside him, the both of them looking surprised, apprehensive and bewildered. And the suits they were wearing, there was no mistaking them. She could bet everything she owned that she was the reason for that perplexity.
“Tseng and Elena… right?”
The male Turk gave her a slight, hesitant smile. “Yes. However, may I ask what-”
“Lockhart, you might want to instruct me as to how - Tseng, has the assignment I’ve given you been done already?”
Tifa fought the urge to slap her forehead in exasperation upon hearing that familiar voice floating over her shoulders. She could not even make herself to turn around and look at Rufus. He didn’t seem to be surprised seeing two of his four Turks to be standing at his doorway, gaping at them. Both still dressed in complementing pajamas, one them of at the door, the other at the kitchen. One could only imagine what might have happened if it was not Tseng and Elena who had seen them but Reno. Elena, much to Tifa’s relief, seemed to be thinking the same thing.
The female Turk glanced from Tseng, whose face was quite indecipherable, to Tifa, an awkward smile on her lips.
“I’m certain we could report to the President over a cup of coffee, right?”
Tifa could only wish that the ground could swallow her at that moment.
Full chapter guide