The soft sound of a door opening prompted Tifa to snuggle deeper into her pillow. Although awake when Cloud went to take his shower, she was still clinging to the drowsy, languorous contentment he'd instilled before getting out of bed himself. Dimly she registered the faint creak and slide of bifold doors, the dull scrape and thud of wood against wood: vague noises that inched her closer toward rousing. Blinking one eye open, she peered around for the noisemaker. He was standing in front of the closet across the room, looking through one of the built-in drawers. A pair of faded denims draped over one shoulder and a towel slung low around his hips were his only concessions toward modesty.

Both eyes suddenly open and focused, Tifa let all thoughts of drifting back to sleep evaporate. Here was a perfect opportunity to give her boyfriend's SOLDIER-sculpted body a slow, thorough inspection, and she wasn't planning to waste it. Lose the towel lose the towel lose the towel, her hormonal side chanted internally, as her gaze busily took in the expanse of broad shoulders, muscled back, narrow hips, and strong calves exposed to her. Even his feet were sexy.

Quietly pushing the drawer closed again, Cloud tugged at the loose knot at his hip, dragging the fabric from around his waist to hang it on the nearby door handle.

Yes!

Lean, tanned muscles flexing and stretching as he moved, he unselfconsciously bent forward to step into a pair of underwear. Biting her lip, she drew in a long, quiet breath as the shift gifted her with an unobstructed view of his gloriously taut butt. Dark blue fabric clinging lovingly to hips and glutes, he repeated the process with the jeans he'd slung over his shoulder.

Although she had every right to enjoy the view—he was, after all, her boyfriend and almost-lover—some girlish compunction prompted her not to get caught. So when he pulled a shirt from its hanger and shut the closet door, she quickly feigned sleep. It was hard to resist the temptation to peek through her lashes, though, when she heard his muffled footsteps approach. After a long moment, curiosity got the better of her—what was he doing?—and she broke.

Denim, washed and worn to a pale blue, filled her view. Standing only a foot or so away from the bed had placed his upper thighs roughly at eye level. Given that his unfastened pants were filled out nicely, it was easy to see Cloud had nothing of which to be ashamed.

Watching her sneak a good look at him through her lashes, Cloud was again taken by Tifa's unique ability to be both adorable and sexy, innocent yet hungry. The weight of her earlier stare had caused a hot rush of arousal, while her current pretense filled him with a more tender form of affection... and not a little amusement. Threading his arms through the sleeves of his t-shirt, he pulled it over his head and then leaned down to murmur softly: "SOLDIERS train to know when someone is watching." Pausing, he waited to see if she'd open her eyes and admit to being awake. His amusement only grew when she didn't, despite the pink tint appearing on her cheek. "Tifa," he coaxed, dragging the syllables out, "it's okay to look." When she still refused to open her eyes, he sighed. "If you're going to keep pretending, I'll just have to assume you like the view from the back more than the front." Tucking the t-shirt into his jeans, he reached for the zipper. "Maybe I'm biased, but I thought the view was better around here."

That had both eyes popping open to meet his. When he cocked an eyebrow at her, prompting her for an answer, she flushed darker, then gamely raised her chin. Propping herself up on her elbows, she gave his front the same slow perusal she'd given his back, biting her lip against a smile when his body responded. "I think," she said, trying to sound cool but unable to hide how affected she was, "that you look good both coming and going."

He responded with a smile that was both pleased and a touch teasing, before briefly brushing her mouth with his. "I'm going to make coffee," he said as he walked across the room and pulled the door open. "Are pancakes still in the offing?"

Rolling onto her back and kicking the covers away, Tifa raised her arms above her head in a stretch, her back arching with the movement. When she sat up, Cloud's gaze was fixed on her chest, and she bit her lip against the urge to smile. "Well," she began, prompting his focus to snap back to her face, "you did give me a kiss." As she spoke, she swung her legs around to stand. "That was the deal when you got up, so... yes. Just let me get dressed."

With a last, lingering look, he nodded and then vanished through the door. Tifa followed him, veering off to the guest room and her suitcase when he entered the kitchen.

What to wear was the question. Presumably, they were going to spend the entire day together as a couple, making it, essentially, their first date. It would be nice to wow him. Especially now that he was letting himself enjoy the view. Unfortunately, this late in her stay she only had a handful of outfits left to choose from, and had worn most of her favorites earlier in the week.

Nibelheim offered little in the way of shopping or fashion. Most people made their own clothes, or traded for them if they couldn't. In rare instances, those who could afford the cost and the wait might special order something from the item store. Tifa had subsequently begun preparing for her trip to Midgar practically the moment she and Zack concocted their plan, just so she could dress for the occasion. She'd poured over catalogs, scavenged pieces from her mother's things in the attic, and even sifted through the quilting circle's fabric stash—an act of desperation if there ever was one—in an effort to look her best.

Luckily, she had Claudia Strife in her corner. Cloud's mom had provided thrifty suggestions, help with fittings, and detailed needle work. Tifa would never have thought to repurpose linens into her wardrobe, for instance, but at Claudia's insistence she spent an afternoon with Widow Darzi, the town's resident seamstress, looking through a veritable treasure trove of fabric remnants and unsold work. Which was how a cutwork table runner and an embroidered tablecloth turned into some of the cutest pieces Tifa owned.

Looking at her options, the red dress was clearly out. It wasn't fancy, but it also wasn't as casual as what Cloud was wearing. Long sleeves on the blue plaid shirt had her discarding that, too; she'd save that for the trip home. Which left strawberries or stripes...

Fifteen minutes later, she was combed and dressed. Collecting a brown paper parcel from the dresser, she walked to the doorway and paused in the frame. "Close your eyes, Cloud."

Gaze still fixed on the phone in his hand, the side of his mouth kicked up in a smile at her order. "Why?"

Hands behind her back, she rocked back and forth on bare feet. "Because I have a surprise and I don't want you to find out what it is before I'm ready."

"A surprise?" Lifting his gaze from the phone, he froze mid-turn when she scolded him.

"Ah-ah-ah! Close your eyes!"

"Alright." Putting the phone down he folded his arms, closed his eyes, and turned toward the door. "They're closed," he said, arching his eyebrows as if to highlight that fact.

"Good boy." Giggling, she walked into the kitchen—dodging the playful way he swiped at her as she passed—and placed the package on the counter, tucking it behind the newly filled canister of flour. She'd bought all the ingredients to cook earlier in the week, but her plans to do so had faltered thanks to Cloud's constant avoidance. "Okay, you can look," she said, facing him across the breakfast bar.

Having followed the sound of her passage, he was looking right at her when he opened his eyes, and what he saw had him swallowing, hard. A white crop top embroidered with strawberries hugged her curves while revealing her toned stomach. Its ruffled neckline outlined the slopes of her breasts before extending into short, off-shoulder sleeves, and wide halter straps framed her neck. Paired with a tiered mini skirt in a matching red, she appeared fresh, cool, and summery—an impression underscored by the way she'd gathered most of her hair on top of her head in a messy array of braids, loops, and strawberry-patterned ribbon. It had his fingers immediately eager to sink into the soft, silken mass and tumble it down again.

The whole of it was artless and sweetly sexy, tugging at his heart and his libido. Which was why the thing that was going to kill him was the ribbon tied around her left thigh, a few inches below the hem of her skirt. It was frivolous and completely eye-catching, somehow emphasizing the otherwise bare length of her slim legs. He wanted to put his mouth right there and work his way up.

"Well? What do you think?"

At the sound of her voice Cloud blinked, refocusing to find her standing with her arms out to the sides and an expectant expression on her face.

I think you look good enough to eat. Clearing his throat, he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. "I think I need to go change into something nicer, so you're not embarrassed to be seen with me." He brushed a hand down his plain t-shirt for emphasis.

"As if that would ever happen." Not only did the silly man look great in what he had on, but Tifa was not so stupid as to turn away Mr. Right because of his fashion sense. Shaking her head at him, she crouched down to open one of the under-counter cabinets. "I have to make up for the days you weren't looking."

Oh, Tifa. You either vastly overestimate my willpower, or seriously underestimate your appeal. Shifting forward in his chair, Cloud folded his arms on the breakfast bar. "Tifa." When her head popped up just enough for her eyes to show above the counter, he huffed a laugh. So. Adorable. "I looked."

"Hmm?" Eyebrows raised in question, she tilted her head.

"This week. I looked." He watched as his meaning took hold and her eyelids lowered shyly, her cheeks taking on a pinkish tint. "I think the pastel knit dress with the little tassels around the hem was my favorite. Before today, at least." Just like the ribbon around her leg, those tassels had drawn his gaze and he'd really had to work not to imagine brushing his fingers along her skin where they lay. "When you wore that mint and lace outfit? With the spaghetti straps? It reminded me of that night on the water tower so much it actually hurt to think you wore if for Zack." Realizing she wore it for him just emphasized how idiotic he'd been. "The black plaid top with the fringe around the bottom? Pure Nibelheim." Especially when paired with a black suede skirt and a belt of gold, oval medallions slung low around her hips. "I noticed you every day." He took care to emphasize the last two words, wanting to be sure she knew he was serious.

Eyes wide, face flushed, Tifa nodded. What could she say? Thank you was entirely inadequate. Dropping her gaze to the open cupboard in front of her, she took a deep breath against the thrilled fluttering in her tummy. Cloud's focused regard was intense. Exciting. Giddy-making. Grin inducing. Doing just that, she grabbed the bowls she needed and stood. "Do you want bacon with your pancakes, or just pancakes?" Placing the bowls on the counter, she opened a drawer in search of measuring cups and spoons.

Watching her, the fact that she was very familiar with where everything was kept was abundantly clear. It indicated she'd been planning to make him breakfast for several days, at least. "Whatever you want is fine," he said, voice soft. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope!" Cheerfully pulling items from the fridge, she half-turned to look at him over her shoulder. "I've got it." Bumping the door closed with her hip, she placed bacon, eggs, butter, and a pint carton of milk on the counter. "You're welcome to keep me company, if you want. But the process is pretty boring."

"As if anything you do could ever bore me," he said, echoing her earlier scoff. "I'll stay." Which was apparently exactly the right thing to say, as her smile grew even brighter in response. Retrieving his discarded phone, Cloud resumed reading through his emails and texts, watching through his peripheral vision as Tifa found the broiler pan and covered the drip tray with aluminum foil.

Several moments passed in companionable silence before Cloud remembered what she'd said when she'd made him close his eyes. "So, what was the surprise? Was it your outfit?" It was the most obvious conclusion, and if so, he definitely approved. Did she know how partial he was to strawberries, or about his tendency to stuff himself on wild ones back in Nibelheim? Wrapped in strawberries and cream, she might have walked straight out of his fantasies.

"What?" Bacon in hand, several strips already laid out on the broiler rack, she paused, looking down at herself and then back at him. "No?"

"No?" For a brief moment, laughing blue eyes glanced away from the screen to take in her bemused expression. "Why is that a question?"

Shrugging, she resumed carefully laying the strips out on the rack. "It hadn't occurred to me." She'd wanted to feel pretty and confident, and to catch and hopefully hold his gaze, but they were still just everyday clothes. "It's not like I'm wearing a ball gown or a negligee."

There was a pregnant pause as he seemed to stare fixedly at the screen. "...do you have a ball gown?"

Washing her hands, Tifa laughed. "Definitely not. But I'll give you points for asking about the gown and not the negligee." Even though the banked heat in his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth crooked in response to her comment confirmed he'd been thinking about it. "And you'll have to wait a little longer for your surprise." When Cloud heaved an exaggerated sigh, she laughed again. "In the meantime, you can tell me if Zack will be joining us. Is he on duty today?" Two SOLDIERS would require a larger batch of batter.

Cloud took a sip from his cooling coffee cup and gestured with the phone. "He spent the night at Aerith's house."

His mild tone vibrated with amusement, and Tifa smiled in reaction, even as she began measuring out dry ingredients. "Oh? What's so funny?"

"Her mom apparently set up quite the obstacle course in the hallway to serve as a deterrent to any nighttime visits he might have planned." His thumb moved, scrolling through texts. "Metal pails, chairs, flower pots. Zack sent me pictures." He gave a low chuckle. "I'm not sure whether he's more amused by it or insulted that she didn't trust him."

"Should she have trusted him?" The quiet shush of dry ingredients gave way to the sound of eggs being cracked, followed by the rapid metallic rattle of a whisk against glass. "How'd he know it was there if he didn't do exactly what she thought he would?" Pouring the liquid mixture into the dry, she scraped the bowl clean with a spatula before taking up the whisk again.

"Because it was still there when he got up this morning. She fell asleep at the kitchen table, waiting." Zack had avoided all of her 'traps' by the simple expedient of vaulting the banister.

"Oh! Poor Elmyra!" Tifa had met Aerith's mother the same day the girls had done each other's nails. She seemed nice enough, if somewhat more reserved than Cloud's mom. "And poor Aerith, too." Tifa knew her friend would really like some snuggle time with Zack, the same as Tifa had been pining for with Cloud.

Cloud shook his head, lips twitching. "Not poor Zack?"

"Not if he didn't even notice the obstacle course until this morning!" When her response made Cloud laugh outright, Tifa half-turned to frown at him. Attempted to, anyway. It was difficult, given how contagious his good humor was. "I'm serious, Cloud. Aerith is probably hurt that he didn't even think to visit her last night." Giving the batter a few more stirs, she tapped the whisk clean on the rim of the bowl, and then discarded the utensil in the sink.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Cloud watched her over the rim with half-lidded eyes. "If I were staying overnight at your house, would you want me to visit your room?"

Tifa shook her head in a pitying fashion, eyeing him like he was being dense. "I would want you to want to visit me. I'd want to know that you at least thought about it. But I'd also want you to respect Daddy if he indicated he wouldn't like it." She winked. "In which case, I could always visit you instead."

"As if he wouldn't blame me for that, too?" Although his tone was still light, it carried a skeptical edge: Memories of a hundred encounters in which Brian Lockhart had held him to account for everything from the weather to stubbing his toe.

"Not if he wants to stay on my good side." Chin lifted, Tifa's tone was firm. "And trust me, he wants to stay on my good side." Not only did he dote on her, but he couldn't cook worth spit. During her trip to Midgar he was subsisting on frozen meals she'd prepared for him ahead of time. "He has to accept that I make my own choices. I won't let him blame anyone else for them." They'd had that discussion once she'd realized how he'd been scapegoating Cloud for years. "You don't have to take the fall for me, Cloud."

He blinked, dropping his gaze to the liquid still in his cup. "I'm not going to stop, you know." The admission was quiet, almost apologetic. He raised the cup to his lips, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "But you don't need to worry. I've gotten quite a bit better at it. Protecting people."

Oh, Cloud. "I love that you want to protect me." Which was an understatement; her whole body had flushed with warmth when he said it. "But, sometimes, I get to protect you, too." Like from her irate, irrational father.

Touched, he nodded, giving her a bashfully pleased smile before standing and walking around the counter to the coffeemaker and refreshing his cup. "Alright, if it makes you happy."

"It does." Opening a drawer, she pulled out a large frying pan and placed it on the burner with a solid thunk to emphasize exactly how serious she was.

Nodding again, he reached for the sugar, adding a truly ridiculous amount to his cup as she watched. When she wrinkled her nose in distaste, he merely leaned back against the counter and grinned at her. "Oh no," she said, making shooing motions. "This kitchen is too small for both of us. Get out of my way you... you... sugar junkie."

If anything, his grin widened. "Aren't you preparing to feed me pancakes?" One eyebrow arched, he didn't budge from his comfortable slouch. "That makes you an enabler, Tifa."

Turning on the burner, she gave her best approximation of a haughty sniff, humor teasing at the corners of her mouth. "This is a special occasion." Picking up the bacon-laden broiler pan, she put it in the oven. "Plus, I'm giving you protein, too."

"Best be careful or you'll end up spoiling me." Although the words were teasing, his tone was one of bemused contentment. Curling an arm around her waist, he pulled her back against him and pressed a kiss on top of her hair, then another to her shoulder. "How can I return the favor?"

She shivered as his breath caressed her skin. "Well..." turning her head, she kissed his cheek before pulling away to return to the slowly heating frying pan, "you could start by pouring me a cup of coffee."

His low, soft chuckle traveled along her spine, giving her more of those thrilling little shivers. By the time she'd poured out two pancakes and covered them with the lid, Cloud had filled a second mug and set it down in front of her. The contents were a rich caramel color, indicating just the right blend of coffee to cream, and it tasted as perfect as it looked: smooth, with just enough sugar to counter the bitterness. Which meant he'd paid attention the one other morning they'd had breakfast together. Her wide-eyed expression prompted another soft chuckle, before he gently clinked his cup against hers and walked back to his seat at the breakfast bar.

Biting her lip against the mix of happiness and affection filling her, she set the coffee aside in order to flip the pancakes, sighing in satisfaction when light golden surfaces were revealed. Putting the lid back on the pan, she took another sip of her perfect coffee. "Was there anything you wanted to do today?"

"I thought I'd spend it with my girlfriend." From his vantage point Tifa was in profile, but he could still see the flash of her smile, and felt his own lips curve in response as if the two of them were caught in a happiness feedback loop. "What would you like to do? Are there any sights you still want to see around town?"

Absently tapping the turner against her palm as she eyed the cooking pancakes, Tifa shook her head. "I just want to spend time with you." For all that Midgar was supposed to be a marvel, her interest in visiting was centered on Cloud. While it might be nice to take in a concert or museum, she'd forgo either if it meant she'd have more time with him. Flipping the first two cakes out of the pan, she poured two more. "What would you do if I weren't here?"

"I'd probably make arrangements to meet up with Zack at some point, especially since I need to apologize for the way I've acted." Now that jealousy's green haze had faded, his idiocy was obvious. Zack knew how important Tifa was to him. While he might have fallen in love with her himself—one couldn't exactly control that sort of thing—his best friend never would have been so callous as to rub it in. "Get him to introduce me to this Aerith, too." The fingers of his free hand drummed a tattoo on the counter as he considered. "Otherwise, I'd most likely spend a few hours in the slums, cleaning out monsters."

"On your day off?" Taking the broiler pan out of the oven, Tifa deftly turned the bacon strips and then returned it so they could finish cooking.

"Somebody has to do it." He offered a shrug, the movement smooth so as to avoid spilling his coffee. "I'm far less likely to be hurt than the average civilian, and if something did go wrong, the Shinra medical center would fix me up." Frowning, brows furrowed, he stared into his cup. "The same isn't true for most people. Besides, it should be our–Shinra's–responsibility."

It wasn't the first time during her visit that Cloud or Zack had indicated they were less than pleased with the company. Neither of them had any respect for the science division, for example, or its tendency to 'lose' specimens. They'd both also expressed distress for the disparity between life above and below plate. This was about more than the abject poverty she'd witnessed firsthand, though. "Monsters? Doesn't public security take care of that?" Surely that's what the troopers stationed throughout the city are for?

"You'd think." Cloud's tone was both bitter and exasperated. "Shinra is only concerned with protecting people insofar as it protects their business interests." Sighing, he looked out the window and over the city. "The company isn't what I expected or we were led to believe..." trailing off, he turned his gaze back to Tifa and shook his head. "But that's a conversation for another time." He flashed her a reassuring smile. "I don't want to waste one of the few mornings we have together complaining about my job."

"Hmmm." Pensive, Tifa nibbled at her bottom lip as she flipped the pancakes. "But telling your girlfriend all your woes is a time-honored tradition."

Gaze fond, he shifted to rest his forearms on the counter, palms framing his cup. "I will definitely tell you all my woes," he assured her. "Just not today." With only two days before she returned home, he was hoarding the hours they spent together.

"Alright." Warmed by the trust implicit in his statement, and the implication that he wanted to end her visit on a high note, Tifa acquiesced. "So what do you do for fun, then?" Before he could open his mouth to respond, she brought the turner up in a sharp movement, and gave him a look over her shoulder. "Other than ping-pong!" She already knew more than she'd ever wanted to about that particular game.

Chuckling, he watched her cook, taking in the slight shifts of weight and the elegant, economical movements of her hands. An awful lot of his time in the last five years had been devoted to getting to this very moment. To perfecting his skills, honing his body, and achieving first class in SOLDIER. All so he could realize the promise he'd made her.

"Cloud?" Pulling the broiler pan from the oven, she paused to look at him, head tilted.

"Sorry." Hands still curled around his cup, he batted the handle back and forth between his thumbs. "I have a couple of side projects I'm working on. Like deciding on a weapon now that I've made First Class."

"I thought SOLDIERS used swords?" Putting the bacon on a plate, she tented aluminum foil over it to keep it warm before pouring another two rounds of batter.

"We do. Shinra provides us with regulation longswords as standard equipment. But individuals are allowed some leeway for personal preference, especially in the higher ranks. Sephiroth has the Masamune, and Genesis his Rapier." Which was really more of a hybrid than the name implied, being a broadsword with a rapier profile. "Zack's mentor Angeal has something called the Buster Sword that looks like it was patterned on ancient anti-cavalry weapons. It's massive. I could probably lie on the thing and let Zack drag me around on it."

Giggling into her coffee cup, Tifa glanced his way just in time to catch Cloud's answering grin, then watched as he lifted his right arm and flexed the fingers as if around an invisible hilt.

"I've never had a chance to try the Buster," and even his nonchalant delivery couldn't disguise exactly how badly he wanted to, "but I've used a few other greatswords." In the Wall Market weapon shop he'd found one called the Hardedge that—although still shorter and slimmer than Angeal's—definitely qualified. "They're excellent against big targets," Scarlet's malfunctioning sweepers came immediately to mind, "or close packed groups. But against more agile opponents they're slow and cumbersome." If you landed a blow it would hit hard; the problem was how easy it was to miss because the target dodged mid-swing. Even SOLDIER muscles had issues trying to alter the direction of an object with that much mass and momentum. "On the other hand, the standard SOLDIER swords are great against small, fast-moving opponents, but your blows feel like you're whittling away at any target of substantial size."

This prompted another fit of giggles from Tifa as she wielded the turner, and Cloud, about to take a drink from his cup, arched a brow at her. "You're imagining that, aren't you?" Glancing over her shoulder, carmine eyes sparkling, she nodded. Cloud sighed, lips twitching. "At least tell me I'm carving something cool, then. A dragon. Or even a Nibel wolf. Not one of those dorky face things."

At that, Tifa turned to face him. "There are only so many monsters I'm familiar with, Cloud! And they all live in the Nibel mountains."

"Ah. Definitely a dragon then. One of the big, nesting females. A standard issue sword would look like a pocket knife against one of those." He jabbed his mug into the air a few times. "Scuff. Scuff." His deadpan delivery while making sound effects was too much for her, and bracing her elbows on the counter, Tifa covered her face with her hands as she laughed. "Hey, no. I am heroically carving away at a dragon here. You should be watching."

Gasping for breath, she flapped a hand at him in a 'stop it' gesture, and he subsided. After a few moments, when she'd managed to get her amusement under control, she raised her head to find him calmly watching her, mouth still crooked in shared humor. "You are so lucky I already flipped the pancakes," she said, trying hard to sound scolding. "It's not good to distract the cook if you don't want to eat overcooked food."

Cloud would happily eat burned pancakes in exchange for the opportunity to watch Tifa collapse in happy laughter, but wasn't quite sappy enough to say so aloud. But it was a near thing. "I wouldn't mind," he said instead, giving another fluid shrug.

"I mind." She waggled the turner at him, much like his mother would have shaken her finger. "But it doesn't matter, because these are perfect!" Depositing them on the plate with a flourish, she traded the utensil for the bowl of batter, pouring the last of it into the frying pan. Rinsing the bowl in the sink, she dried her hands and then leaned one hip against the counter as she drank more of her coffee. "So you're trying to find a middle ground?"

"Hmmm?" Once more caught up in just watching her, Cloud tilted his head. "What?"

Eyelashes lowered shyly, cheeks faintly pink, she hid her smile behind the rim of her cup. "You were talking about swords? And being unhappy with both extremes?"

"Oh. Yeah." Swallowing, he tried to remember what he'd been saying. "It's not that any of the blades I've mentioned are unacceptable. Killing a dragon with a longsword is definitely doable; it'd just take longer. But I have a different style from most of SOLDIER. Different strengths." Slighter, faster, and shorter than the typical operative, he was also the only member partial to dual wielding. He suspected it was at least part of the reason for his promotion to First: it gave Shinra another mold to showcase when recruiting. "I want a weapon that really lets me play to those strengths rather than handicapping them. Which doesn't seem to exist." He'd visited every weapon shop in the city, both above and below the plate, as well as those in Junon, Kalm, and every other town in which he'd found himself, all in a fruitless search. "So I decided to try designing something myself."

With a sharp, practiced movement, Tifa flipped the contents of the frying pan and put it back on the burner. "You're designing a sword?"

"Design might be too strong of a word. I'm trying to draw one?" He grimaced. "I don't know anything about metal forging or creating materia slots. But I know what I want? And if I can draw it, I should have an easier time explaining it to a weaponsmith. And then I can at least find out if it's even possible."

Taking the syrup out of the fridge, Tifa poured some into a cup and put it in the microwave to warm. "You've envisioned a sword unlike anything you've actually seen or heard of? Complete with schematics?" Hands on hips, she shook her head at him. "Design sounds like exactly the right word. That's amazing, Cloud."

He blushed at the blatant sincerity in her face and tone. "Well... I got the original idea from a sword they were working on in the science department. It's not what I'm looking for, but it got me thinking. And you haven't seen the drawings," he countered.

Unwilling to let him downplay his efforts, she jumped at the suggestion. "May I?" Hands braced on the counter, she leaned across it until her toes were barely touching the ground in an effort to impress her enthusiasm upon him.

Unable to resist, Cloud leaned forward to brush his lips over hers, mouth quirking at the corner. "If you really want." It wasn't quite a question, but not entirely a statement either.

"I do." Dropping back down from the counter, she bounced on her toes: once, twice. "After we eat?"

Bemused by her gratifying but unexpected interest, Cloud nodded. "Sure."

"Thank you." Giving him a brilliant smile, she spun back to the stove and turned the burner off with a snap, before flipping the last pancake out of the pan. "And breakfast is ready!" Opening the cabinet where they kept the glasses, she took one out and reached for another. "Milk?"

"Definitely."

In short order there were two glasses filled and slid across the counter, one for each of them. Removing the warm syrup from the microwave and the aluminum from the bacon, Tifa set them on the counter where they would be within easy reach. Lastly, she grabbed two forks and the pancake laden plates, before rounding the breakfast bar to take the seat beside him.

The plate she put in front of Cloud contained a double stack of round, fluffy-looking, golden pancakes. To his eyes, the half-stack she'd served herself seemed lacking in comparison. "Are you sure you have enough?"

"I'm fine. I don't have a SOLDIER's appetite or metabolism." Handing him his fork, she clinked the tines of hers against it in a semblance of a toast. "Eat up!"

Laughing softly, he poured a liberal amount of syrup over his pancakes, and dug in. The texture on the outside was slightly crisp, with a faint sweetness of its own, separate from the syrup. The inside was as fluffy as their appearance had hinted, but with a heft or thickness to it, too. His eyes went wide at the first bite, before closing as he made a soft, wordless sound of enjoyment. "These are my mom's pancakes," he said, voice hoarse, after he'd chewed and swallowed. When he opened them, his eyes were dark and glossy with emotion.

"Surprise." Tifa's voice was soft, her head a comforting weight against his shoulder. "She told me how much you missed them."

"Yeah." They'd been a comfort food for him as far back as he could remember, one he'd sorely missed since leaving home. Blinking a few times, he sniffed before shifting to rest his head against hers. "She gave me the recipe, but I haven't been able to find the wheat middlings."

"I brought you a bag. It's why I made you close your eyes. Just in case you recognized the packaging."

Giving another of those airy laughs, he kissed the top of her head and turned back to his breakfast. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They ate in silence, punctuated by sidelong glances and contented sighs. Tifa was only slightly amazed when Cloud ate all ten of the pancakes she'd given him, plus two thirds of the bacon. Pushing aside his plate, he propped his head on his fist and watched her eat as he finished his coffee. Or, rather, watched her cut up her last pancake into bite-size pieces and push them around in circles.

"I'm full," she confessed, sitting back in her chair to nibble on her last strip of bacon, while the fingers of her right hand fiddled with her fork.

"You're eating bacon," Cloud pointed out.

"There's always room for bacon." She said it as if it were a known fact of the universe.

"There's always room for pancakes."

"Not your mom's version." The wheat middlings made them more filling, and that feeling of being full was longer lasting. Claudia called them 'stick to your ribs' pancakes, just the thing when feeding a growing boy on a tiny budget.

Cobalt eyes glinting with amusement, Cloud leaned toward her and opened his mouth. "Ahhh."

Lips twitching, she gathered up three pieces of pancake on her fork and offered it to him. "How can you still be hungry?"

"I'm not." Sated, his metabolism seemed to be delighting in the influx of carbs and protein, something else the middlings boosted. "But these are special because you made them. For me. Using my mom's recipe." He shrugged. "And the extra won't hurt me." If anything, his already accelerated healing factor would get an additional boost for the next few hours.

"Have at it then," she said, rolling her eyes and pushing her plate in his direction. "But if you get indigestion, you asked for it."

"Never happen." Grinning, Cloud finished clearing her plate in three bites, then—despite her protest—gathered their dirty dishes and carried them into the kitchen. "You cooked," he said, inclining his head in her direction, "it's only fair I do the dishes." Adopting an air of disappointment, he shook his head. "Not that you left much for me to do." She'd been very neat in her cooking, rinsing and stacking things in the sink as she used them. Only the broiler pan required proper attention, so it only took a few minutes for him to load the dishwasher and tidy up. Offering her another cup of coffee and receiving a shake of the head in return, he dumped the dregs and grinds before putting the pot and filter basket in the machine and turning it on.

"Do you still want to see those drawings?" Rounding the breakfast bar, Cloud arched his eyebrows in question.

"Yes!" A full stomach wasn't going to change her mind. Sooner or later he'd have to realize and trust in the fact that she was interested in anything he was interested in, simply because it was him.

"Alright." Beckoning her to follow him, he returned to his bedroom. Opening the top drawer of the desk, he pulled out a sketch pad and flipped through a few pages. "Here's my first attempt."

Taking the pad, Tifa made a soft sound of surprise. From his attitude, she'd expected a crude sort of rendering, but the drawing in front of her was clean and crisp. Straight, sharp lines sketched out two swords which were clearly intended to combine as two halves of a larger whole. "So you can switch from a lighter, faster sword to a slower, heavier one as needed."

Although she'd mumbled the realization to herself, SOLDIER hearing picked it up. "Yeah. I usually carry two broadswords, unless I know ahead of time that I'm up against a larger target." Half-sitting, half-leaning against the desk, he braced his hands behind him. "If necessary, I can strike with both simultaneously for a heavier blow. But this would be better. You can flip the page," he added, when her lifted brows asked permission to do just that.

The next page held a drawing similar to the first, only this time the two swords slotted into position next to a third, their hilts locking into place against its guard. "With two blades, there's a problem of what to do with the extra hilt when the blades combine. Simply laying them side-by-side won't work, because it'll be too big to grip comfortably. But if you pare each down to make the combined hilt comfortable, individually they'll be too small. This was an attempt at figuring out a solution."

And it was an elegant one. "Except now you have to carry an extra blade."

"Right." Reaching over, he flipped the page again. "That's how I ended up here."

The third drawing went back to a two sword configuration, but with the blades staggered in size rather than identical, and with the smaller slotting into the hilt of the larger. "Two swords, one slightly larger to serve as my principal weapon in my dominant hand, which together create a greatsword profile."

"And with the hilt folded out of the way, you don't have to worry about the grip being unwieldy." Eyes bright with a mix of interest and admiration, she handed the pad back to him. "This is really clever, Cloud."

"Maybe." Although his response was easy and noncommittal, the accompanying smile was warm with appreciation. "The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as my mom would say. For that, I need a weaponsmith willing to make it for me."

"Shinra doesn't have one on staff?" The company prided itself on having the best of the best in everything. If not on staff, then at least in the city.

Cloud grimaced as he put the pad on the desk and moved to remake the bed. "The weapons division cranks out swords and such for Shinra operatives, but any artistry is reserved for Scarlet's special projects." From his tone and pinched expression, Scarlet didn't have any artistry to spare, if she had any at all. "But there are plenty of weapons vendors in the city, both above and below the plate. I'll ask around."

Since neither had been a restless sleeper, a few tugs and a smoothing hand were really all that were needed to set the bed to rights again. Satisfied, he turned, only to pause and cock his head at Tifa's soft smile. "What?"

Clasping her hands behind her back, she stepped closer and kissed his cheek. "Just thinking that you are definitely your mother's son." Claudia kept an impeccable home, every item well-cared-for and having its proper place, making his penchant for tidiness both familiar and endearing.

"Hmm?" Glancing over his shoulder at the bed, he caught her meaning, and shrugged. "She trained me well," he agreed, blue eyes glinting with humor. "Not only do I clean, but I'm also one of those rare specimens who knows not to leave the toilet seat up."

Pressing her forehead against the curve of his shoulder, she curled her hands around his arm. "Oh, my. Demand is going to skyrocket when word gets out." Her voice was soft, but gamely teasing. "All those Golden Chocobo fangirls will be even more interested in you." Biting her lip, she glanced up at him through her lashes.

"Then we'll just have to make sure they know I'm already taken." Gaze soft and tone firm, he folded her close, his front to her back, arms and fingers entwined. "You'll protect me, won't you?" he asked, skimming his lips along her bare shoulder. With her hair up, he had easy access to her nape and that sensitive spot behind her ear, and he took full advantage.

"Are you saying you've got a girlfriend and you're not afraid to use her as a shield?" Laughing, she twisted away from his teasing kisses, scrunching her nose at him. In all honesty, there was a possessive part of her that desperately wanted the world—especially his fans—to know he was hers. It was a similar urge to the one that had her berating his fan club for the ubiquitous crotch shots in every newsletter, and all the speculative chatter about his anatomy. He was his first and hers second, and his parts weren't anyone else's business.

He snugged his chin into the curve of her neck and shoulder. "I've seen the things Sephiroth's and Genesis' fans do." Clutching her tighter, he shuddered. "If mine are at all alike, they'll be obsessive, determined, and out to have their way with me." When her shoulders started to shake with repressed giggles, he sighed, pretending to pout. "Surely, as my girlfriend, you're honor bound to protect my virtue?"

"Really?" Tilting her head and looking over her shoulder, she arched her eyebrows, eyes sparkling with mirth. "I think we have very different ideas about what a girlfriend does, Cloud." Especially with a boyfriend as tempting as he.

Lips twitching, he pressed a light kiss square on her mouth. "That's different. You—and only you—can have your way with me whenever you like." He waggled his eyebrows.

Tifa bussed the tip of his nose. "You're adorable when you're being deliberately ridiculous." And he was. Relaxed and teasing and playful, encouraging her to do the same.

Dipping his head, he brushed his lips along her nape. "Whenever you like," he repeated, punctuating each word with another light press of his mouth. "Unless you're thinking now is the time, though, we should probably find something else to do. And somewhere other than my bedroom to do it." Relaxing his hold, he nudged her toward the door, walking them over to it with a rocking sort of shuffle, like a parent with a toddler. Three steps in she pulled away, laughing again, until only their linked hands joined them as they walked into the living room.

Taking a seat on the sofa, Cloud tugged gently against their clasped hands, lifting his other arm and cocking his head in invitation. Tifa willingly snuggled into his side, head on his shoulder.

"You said earlier that you have a couple of projects you're working on," she reminded him. "What's the other one? Is it something we could do together?"

"Oh. Not really. At least not today." Turning slightly, he put one bare foot on the coffee table. "I'm working to customize a Hardy-Daytona. Modify it to SOLDIER tolerances." Strength, reflexes, and even the amount of acceleration he could withstand all greatly exceeded that of someone who hadn't been through the program. When he finished, it would be highly unlikely that anyone but another SOLDIER could safely drive the thing, but it would be perfect for him. "But I'm in between mods at the moment."

Thanks to Shinra's in-house social network and the fact that the bike was a Shinra product, Cloud had a wealth of experts willing to offer insights on how best to achieve the results he was after. A man in Rocket Town had some ideas on getting more speed out of the bike, and someone else thought retuning the ECU, if not outright disabling some electronic features, might be the key to improving handling and response times. Doing either required the right parts or tools, and those were currently on order.

"I doubt I'd be much help anyway," Tifa said, frowning. "Mechanics aren't really my area of expertise."

"You'd be great company." His tone made it as an absolute fact, not a possibility. "And you could always learn, if you wanted. There's just nothing to work on right now." Slouching down a little further, he nuzzled the back of her head, taking in the sugared vanilla scent that he'd come to know as hers. "I did have an idea for what to do this evening, though."

"Oh?" Pulling his arm a little closer, she hugged it to her as she played with his fingers. "What's that?"

"I'm guessing you haven't been to Wall Market yet?" Playfully, he tightened his fingers around hers, trapping them.

"Nope." Lifting their joined hands to her mouth, she kissed his thumb. "What's Wall Market?"

Distracted by the feel of her lips, and the thought of what they'd feel like surrounding rather than merely kissing his thumb, it took him a minute to answer. "It's an area walled off for entertainment outside Shinra's jurisdiction. Mostly." It was a misconception that the man in charge of Wall Market, Don Corneo, didn't answer to Shinra. While the crime boss had a lot of leeway, he still survived on sufferance, and Shinra could stomp him like a bug if he ever crossed the company. "The biggest draws are the coliseum and the nightclub, but some areas are more carnival-like, with games and concessions. Of course, there are various shops and restaurants, too. It's busiest at night."

"Sounds like fun." Eyes closed, Tifa smiled against his hand. It sounded like a perfect date destination.

"I thought we could get dinner at the Wutaian restaurant, and then wander around." Pressing his lips against her temple, he dropped his voice to a whisper as if imparting a secret: "It's highly rated, and one of the specials is soup dumplings."

"Really?" Twisting at the waist, she turned to look at him, expression hopeful. Soup dumplings were a favorite from her childhood, and her mother had died while Tifa was still too young to learn to make them herself. "Are they any good?"

"Yeah. I think so." Not that he was an expert, but he knew delicious when he tasted it. "Want to try them out?"

"Yes!" Emphatic in her agreement, she tugged briefly on the front of his shirt for emphasis.

"Okay." Kissing her nose, he shifted to pull his phone out of his pocket. "I'll see if I can get a reservation. If not, we'll have to head down early and possibly stand in line."

"If they're good, it'll be worth it." As he dialed, she stood and stretched, then disappeared into the guest room when he began talking. She returned as he was confirming the reservation information, brandishing her phone in answer to his raised eyebrows.

"Party of four?" she asked when he hung up.

"The magic of reservations. Although I couldn't get a table for two, I could get a table for four." His expression turned slightly sheepish. "I thought maybe Zack and Aerith could join us?" The invite would serve as both an apology and a chance to meet Zack's girlfriend.

"That's fine with me." Sharing him with Zack and Aerith wasn't a hardship, especially when she'd have him all to herself for most of the day. Holding her phone between her thumb and index fingers, she shook it up and down. "Guess what we haven't done yet?"

"Don't have to guess," he answered, turning his so she could see the screen displayed his address book. "But I'm sure, even if we forgot, that Zack would give me your number. He might make me grovel first, but I'd get it eventually."

Tifa could imagine it. Giving each other a hard time seemed to be a core part of their friendship. "And if I asked?"

"Oh, he wouldn't hesitate to give you my number. He'd just ask you to wait a day or two before putting me out of my misery." His thumb moved across the screen, entering her name, before he looked up. "Will you put me out of my misery, Tifa?"

"Hmmm..." Hand on her chin, she pretended to think. "Maybe just this once." With a wink, she listed the number, watching as he entered it and then lifted the phone to his ear. A second later, a few bars of piano music sounded from the device in her hand. "Hello?" she said, watching him.

"Hello." He raised his free hand to wave.

"I miss you." Both of hers cupped around her phone, she whispered it.

"I miss you, too," he whispered back, then patted the empty space beside him. "Why don't you come over?"

"I'll be right there." Hanging up, she saved his number in her contacts, then crossed the room. Setting her phone on the coffee table as she passed, she slid her hand into his as she came to a stop in front of him.

"Do you still play the piano?" She'd still been taking lessons when he left Nibelheim. "I'm wondering if maybe you'd like the AIR Music Gallery. It should be open today, if you want to go."

"I do... but, even though I still try to play some every day, it's not my focus anymore." Playing had come to be something of a meditative practice, a way to clear her mind and center herself. It was also a good form of exercise for her wrists and fingers. "I've been working as a guide back home, and training with Master Zangan. Do you remember him?" When he nodded, she curled her free hand into a fist and cocked her hip in a confident pose. "He says I have a knack for it. So I thought... If you still wanted to clean out the monsters in the slums, I could come with? Show you some of my moves?"

Gaze focused on their joined hands, the movement of his thumb over her knuckles, Cloud considered. His protective instincts, the core of what made him join SOLDIER, were screaming no. Dragging her through a day-long gauntlet was not the way to keep her safe. Everything from minor nuisances like wererats and hedgehog pies to more serious threats like drakes and venomantes made their homes in the scrap, and they could attack in unexpected numbers and combinations. Against all probability, he'd even seen Scarlet's busted machines working with the monsters.

And yet, another part wanted to say yes just as fervently. This was clearly important to her; though she'd tried for a casual tone, he'd heard both anxiety and hope in her voice. Nibelheim being a bastion of old-fashioned mores, he couldn't imagine the villagers or her father being terribly supportive of her taking up martial arts. And if Zangan, a martial arts master respected around the world, said Tifa had a knack, it was as good as saying she was a prodigy. She deserved to have someone appreciate that. To know someone was proud of her, which Cloud was.

Feeling a light tremor in her hand, he glanced at her face and realized her expression had fallen. It spurred him to make a decision. Pulling her to stand between his legs, he took both her hands in his. "Alright. But I get to set a few conditions." His voice was firm, gaze serious, the mako in his blue eyes still and subdued, leaving them dark. "First: I get to approve your gear—gloves, bangle, materia, all of it—so I can make sure you're prepared for the things we'll be fighting."

His attitude—protective, but not denying her ability—eased the knot that had settled in her stomach at his silence. This first condition, at least, seemed both fair and considerate. "Okay."

"Second: we spend some time in the VR simulator, learning how to work together. How to complement each other. So I can have your back and you mine." Otherwise, they'd hinder more than help each other.

Biting her lip, Tifa closed her eyes against the sudden sting of tears. This was so much more than a willingness to humor her, so much more than she'd dared to hope for. This was an offer of trust, a blatant willingness to see her as a partner. Drawing a shaky breath, she opened her eyes. "Thank you, Cloud."

In reply, he gently squeezed her hands. "Lastly: We'll wait until tomorrow so you can dress for the occasion." Loosening his grip on her hand, he straightened his pinkie and ring fingers to stroke them back and forth along the ribbon around her thigh. "Something you won't mind getting torn or covered in rust and various other substances."

Nowhere on her hastily constructed list of his possible conditions had a change of clothing featured. After first blinking in surprise, a smile slowly blossomed across her face. Looking from him to the pristine white of her blouse, the vibrant red of her skirt, she gave a slight twist of her hips, sending the hem swirling around her thighs. "Like this outfit, do you?"

One corner of his mouth crooking up, he leaned forward, holding her gaze, to place a kiss on her bare midriff. "What do you think?" he asked, lips just barely brushing her skin. When she swallowed, he pressed another kiss beside the first. "You could wear a potato sack, and I'd still think you were beautiful, Tifa." His frank assessment had her shyly dropping her eyes, cheeks turning pink. This," he ran his index finger along her waistband, "is a far cry from a potato sack. This makes me want to take you out and show you off, and then, once every other man in Midgar is sick with envy, I want to bring you home and—cliche as it is—see how good it looks crumpled up on my bedroom floor." He paused, taking in her rather wide eyes, and bit back the urge to say it would look fantastic. Instead, he shrugged and said, tone mild, "Ruining it killing monsters would be a waste."

Slowly tugging her hands free, Tifa braced them on his shoulders as she leaned down to press her mouth to his. "I want to show you off, too," she confessed, whispering the words against his lips. Her hands buried themselves in his hair as his came to rest on her waist, pulling her into his lap. "I want every last one of your fangirls to know you're taken. I want them to know they can't have you, because you already picked me." When he chuckled at that, low and satisfied, her fingers tightened just enough to pull gently at the silky strands. "It's horrible. I'm horrible. You're not arm candy!"

"If you're horrible, I'm a thousand times worse." Hands framing her face, he pulled back far enough to meet her gaze. "I've spent months being jealous of my best friend, remember? But it's not horrible, and neither are you. I am, however, absolutely your arm candy. You can show me off whenever you want, because it lets everyone know that you chose me. In fact, I insist." His kiss then was slow and sweet, urging her to relax into him. After all, she agreed: he could show her off, because then everyone would know they were together.

In the silence, Tifa's phone made a cheeping sound, like the call of a chickadee. A beat later, Cloud's gave out a fanfare.

"That will be Aerith." Head on his shoulder, fingers still threading through his hair, her observation was lazy.

"And Zack."

After a few moments, the alerts sounded again.

"We should see what they have to say." Aerith probably wanted to know how things went, and to offer her shoulder if Tifa needed it.

"Yeah." Leaning forward, hand on her back to keep her steady, Cloud picked up her phone and handed it to her, before pulling his back out of his pocket.

As expected, Aerith wanted to be sure the night had gone well, and offered a pick-me-up in case it hadn't. "Aerith asks me if I'd like to go shopping." Carmine eyes were laughing above her phone. "She says Zack will be our pack chocobo."

The corner of his mouth crooked up, though his eyes remained focused on his phone, his thumb tapping out a reply. "You should tell her that you've got your own pack chocobo." When she giggled, his hand slid around to her waist and gave her a squeeze. "Zack wants to know if I've stopped being an idiot."

"Is that actually what he said?" It seemed somewhat mild considering his attitude the night before.

"Pretty much." He angled the phone so she could read Zack's text and his response.

Zack: R U still being a dumb ass?

Cloud: No. Shut up.

"Good comeback," she teased, giving him a thumb's up.

This garnered a narrow-eyed glance, humor rendering it toothless. "I can still tickle you." When she just bit her lip against a grin, he huffed a laugh. Setting aside his phone, his eased her to her feet. "Let's look at your gear, and then we can go shopping for anything you need." Like a new phone, as hers was at least three years old. Maybe he could get one for his mom while he was at it.

As he stood, Tifa reached out to rest one hand on his chest, the light weight holding him in place. "If we're going to a weapons vendor, you should bring your sketches." As detailed as the drawings were, he hadn't worked on them during her visit. He simply hadn't spent enough time in the apartment. Which meant he'd been putting the project off, for one reason or another. She lifted her chin. "I want to know you've got the best gear possible, too. Unless you can't afford it?" Her gaze fell to where her hand lay, a little furrow appearing between her brows. "In which case you shouldn't be buying things for me. What I have is more than adequate for Nibelheim."

"Tifa." Worrying her bottom lip, she met his gaze as his fingers came up to brush her bangs back from her face. "It's not a problem." It was sweet for her to be concerned, but, his salary aside, they'd most likely make enough clearing the slums to pay for any upgrades to her gloves or bangle. "I'll bring the sketches, and you'll let me spoil you if I want to." When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed his index finger against her lips. "Boyfriend's prerogative." Spoiling her was something he'd wanted to do since he was nine. "Deal?" Bending his knees just slightly, bringing them eye to eye, he offered her his pinky.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she smiled, and his lips curved apace. Sexy and intent one moment, cajoling and sweet the next, he was simply too much for her to resist. Too appealing. Linking her pinky with his, she brought their thumbs together. "Deal."