a/n; BEWARE. The prominent genre is humor. Humor, in writing, is not my forte.
AND. Was meant to be a oneshot - turned into a 9,000 word experiment thing. So, this may actually have a plot. 8D
And I chaptered it to make it seem less obnoxious? And because I'm sometimes easily embarrassed. And because it was easy to chapter this, kind of. I hope it's enjoyable?

mission: not impossible; because this is about Zack Fair, not Tom Cruise.

Zack was on a mission.

It was a safe bet Cloud wasn't going to do it. Actually, on second thought, Cloud would never do anything like this. Very unselfishly, selfishly selfish on his part. He should be grateful Zack went out of his way for him. Really, grateful.

But no, Cloud had been busy brooding in the corner. As usual.

There was that detail of Cloud not knowing what Zack was doing.. But what was that saying about ignorance being blissful? It was basically the same thing. And Zack knew Cloud – so automatically, this was the only way.

He stopped his whistling, glancing at the title above the glassy, towel polished doors. The border around the sign was enough to tell him they flock flock flock, and it only reinforced his confidence in his superb sixth sense.

As he strutted through the emblazoned entrance, a rush of rich, Italian air took a detour up his nostrils, caressing and very much too potent. The smell of working female satisfaction.

Coffee.

And the thing about coffee shops equaled Zack's mental list he prescribed to himself. One: women loved places like these. He thought about what, exactly, was so attractive about them – the muted, wishy-washy paint job, the circular, modernized tables with wire-backed chairs, or the old fashioned, closed in booths with cracked seams and loose fluff. Romantic appeal? Zack didn't think so. But whatever. What worked, worked.

Two: the women that came sipped coffee, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, and it was easy to scout the ones with cappuccino foam wishes mixed with sugar and cream.

And if there was a three…well, it'd be easy arithmetic.

So arithmetic it was, roving glances and sneak peeks around the wooden tables. He had to make sure he picked a good one, since most girls noticed him and his volatile stride, the peaceful atmosphere ripped with the metal clap of the bell.

Since most girls didn't appreciate booth-hopping or his self-proclaimed selfless mission, he had a single chance at finding a girl alone – and that wasn't hard. It was the talk. And Zack never had problems with talk.

He'd been to three coffee shops. But he had the absolute optimism that this was the one. It sold cinnamon rolls and goulashes. If there was a woman who had taste in anything, delicious or…delicious, it would be here, and if it wasn't here it wouldn't be anywhere and all hope was lost.

He grabbed a silver stool and sat up at the bar counter, leaning on the pastry filled glass and avoiding eye contact with melted butter and glazed all over doughnuts. Instead, he casually placed his jaw in his fist, feigning boredom into scrutiny.

He checked out five booths…three occupants. There were two at one booth – guy and girl. Zack was sure he could land the girl, if the guy left long enough. Maybe he could go to the bathroom, and Zack would go up to the girl in a nonchalant, is that a hazelnut espresso? I love hazelnut espressos! And she would fall in love with him – or, the idea of him having blond hair and the name Cloud, and then complete and utter score.

But there was something in the guy's pocket. It was shining and it looked like it was cutting out stitches in the seams.

So Zack would tell anybody that wondered, without a doubt, that he loved Cloud in a brotherly, I-will-push-your-face-in-a-toilet, tell-me-a-secret-and-I-won't-tell-anybody-really, I'm-gonna-push-this-button-here-and-here-and-here, way. He'd put his head out there on the highway for him, sure, no question. He'd make sure Cloud wasn't about to do something too idiotically unchangeable, or just idiotic – like right now for instance.

But to get shanked for flirting? Even Zack knew a hopeless idea when he saw it. And the girl wasn't even that pretty to get shanked for. Cloud deserved better in the most arrogant-less, condescending-less way Zack could make it sound. So…nah.

The other warmed the booth by himself, constructing a bubbled mustache and staring at a crossing street sign out the window. He had a friendly face, soft eyes, soft mouth lines, but last time Zack checked Cloud was very into females. He probably wouldn't appreciate going on a date, clueless enough to trip into his seat and gawk at who might fill the spot in front of him.

Okay, so Zack had to force himself to dislodge the lustful feelings he had for such an idea. To just take a photo of Cloud's face…

Sometimes Zack hated how much a true conscience he really had.

Getting rid of the vestiges of the want, Zack placed his attention on the other estrogen occupying the room. There were a nice number of scattered, small rounded tables, with two crowded high chairs almost awkwardly placed apart. The comfort level must have been low with no cushion, but through his wincing, Zack eyed up the inhabitants. They contained a nice batch – at the least, he already had three vies for the taking.

He sized up the one closest – and he couldn't help but become biased. Her hair was dangerously long and there was something in the way she held her coffee cup that screamed gentle and dainty. Her posture was upright, her spine straight with years of absent slouching. There was a nice vibe from her, and okay, Zack had tried to leave the physicality alone but who was he trying to fool? The girl had boobs. All uplifted and supple and – damn, was her face flawlessly fabulous.

Maybe he'd keep that one for himself. Selfless…right.

Focus Zack Focus.

The next girl seemed to be quite fidgety. In shocking contrast to the first, her hair was boyishly short, not butch length, but not mullet-wise either. Her legs were countries long and her fingers were scraping off the plastic paint on the dent in the table. He was turned on by her headband, and the way the ties twisted in a twirl down her back. He followed it down her stick figure, but there was buoyancy yet.

He was skeptical. She bit her lip and was distracted by floating cloth strings and honking horns out the window. Zack knew waiting when he saw it. Perhaps she wasn't one to bet on.

And then it was the last. She had large, all-seeing eyes, emitting a strange color. They were the first thing he noticed. Her hair seemed newly trimmed, with the ends aligned too perfect and messed with too hazardously. The attire fastened was wrinkled, misplaced crinkles criss-crossing her stomach like a tic-tac-toe game, and her coffee was steaming untouched. Her face was pretty, even with hard stress lines, and he was appreciative of the figure hiding its best away from prying glances. It was born 36-24-36 alright.

He didn't know what to make of her – she seemed to have an unlocking complex. A tough cookie to chew – not stale or too chewy. Just…tough. He wondered if he'd have the time, and if Cloud would, for that matter.

But it was what he saw on the table that made him stop.

She was eating a cinnamon roll.

A giant, over-the-top, ohmygod-is that real, cinnamon roll. The melting butter was spinning down the swirl in different races to the plate, drips of three puddles forming in a decadent triangle, and slowly, in slow motion, she took her fingers and peeled it all, so slowly, into a striped boa constrictor.

And then there it went, into her mouth and on a long, short journey to her stomach.

That was it. It canceled out his hesitant thinking and forced him to saunter up to her table.

"I'm extremely jealous."

She looked up, halted in the action of drinking her coffee. She lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He quirked his eyes in an all-knowing way. "I gave up sweets for lent, and you ate that whole cinnamon roll in two bites." He folded his arms.

Her face washed in a dark cherry red. It was a nice color on her – and if Zack liked it, Cloud would too.

"You were…watching me eat?" she eyed him in a semi-confused, shocked look.

"Of course – " her body language stopped him. "Uh, not really," he transitioned. "I happened to glance your way right when you were eating. And I knew I had to tell you how envious I was." He gave her a crooked smile – and these always greased down the rust. "But it wasn't just the cinnamon roll. I couldn't bring myself to resist coming to talk to such a sweet thing as yourself."

Though her cheeks stayed a nice, flushed pink, her lips jutted in examination. "Oh. Well," she hesitated. "Thanks.." she then purposefully went back to tapping her fingernails on the cardboard cylinder in her palms.

Zack wanted to groan. That is not how she was supposed to react. She was supposed to react with a giggle and a cute up-tilt of her nose.

At her lapse in judgment, he took over. "The pleasure's all mine Miss…"

And as Zack anticipated her next move, he let his grin widen.

"…Tifa," she relented. "Call me Tifa."

"Tifa," he rolled over his tongue in relief. "I'm Zack," he smiled. "Listen – I'm meeting a friend here, but he's tied up in business matters," he said, waving his hand in a nonchalant fashion. "So I was wondering if I could share some of my good-natured company with you until he gets here."

She had not ceased tapping her paper coffee cup, and he could not tell what she was going to say. That annoyed uncertainty wasn't easy to get used to, the readiness of glistening eyes and shiny teeth so abundant in the past, but it had crawled over him all morning.

Please, please, please, come on come on come on, he thought, holding his breath.

"Al…All right," she sipped. "I guess it'd be okay."

Zack held back an unnecessary fist pump. Instead, he helped himself to the chair across from her, getting used the feel of her examining eyes.

"So, Tifa," he started. "What brought you to this coffee shop?"

He had been wondering ever since he came to stand before her, her fingertips noticeably pressing too hard onto the table.

She gave him a look. "What people do when they come to coffee shops. Drink coffee." To punctuate her answer, she sipped her drink.

Zack grinned. "Well, there's got to be something else. You're gorgeous, and all by yourself?" He folded his arms. "I know stress when I see it."

Her eyebrow rose and rose until it hit her forehead line. "Really? Well, I think there's something else with you, too." She seemed to become defensive. "You're nosy…and you're all by yourself. I think that says lonely, Zack."

To say he was impressed would be an understatement.

"Like I said," Zack shrugged. "I'm only here because I'm waiting. Why not enjoy the time?"

She kept up her strange, suspicious front, taking another gulp of coffee. She didn't answer him with words but with a sigh. She didn't seem to be leaning toward him in any way.

Behind his open smile, Zack was panicking. What was it with these coffee shop girls? It'd never been this hard before. They were usually giggling by now. Maybe this pick had been wrong. Maybe this whole coffee shop idea had been wrong.

Maybe it wasn't a stroke of genius, but a stroke of awkward, failing shame instead.

Damn it, Cloud, this is your entire fault.

There might still be some time to change…

But one flutter of her lashes was all it took to glue him down. He stayed where he was.

…Maybe he could be honest.

"Okay…listen." He placed his elbow on the glossy wood. "I have this problem," by the bunching of her face, he amended quickly. "Er – well, it's not my problem, exactly. It's my friend – my best friend. And he just can't seem to get out of the apartment lately."

She tilted her head far to the left, and Zack felt sparks of amusement and disbelief. Her eyes were teaming with curiosity and interest.

"Do you know why he doesn't?"

Zack could barely hold back his joy. He'd have to remember to be honest more often. "It could be because he just ended his service," he said, "But I think the biggest thing was the passing of his mom a few months ago."

Well, he hadn't been expecting to give that information out. But it'd be for the greater good, Zack was sure.

Her eyes grew an eerie, dark red, and she placed her arms on the table in a serious fashion. "Oh my, that's terrible! You don't think it's post traumatic stress, do you?"

So maybe this wasn't for the greater good, exactly. Zack waved his hands. "Whoa, whoa, no, not at all. I know for a fact Cloud can act like an abused pup, and he even adds on some dramatic flair every once in a while, but he's only like this sometimes," he said. "He's actually a pretty cool guy. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be my best friend."

She blinked twice, deliberate, and if Zack was paying more attention to her than his thoughts, he would have seen a flicker. But he didn't, and her eyes had become a softer shade. "It can be one of the hardest things, to tell someone close about emotional problems. Do you think…Cloud...is hiding anything from you?"

Zack drummed the tabletop. Was she onto something here?

"He could hide things…but I don't think he would." Zack frowned. "If it was something serious, I'd think I'd be able to tell."

She made a humming noise while she twirled the stirrer in her cup. "What's he like?"

The subject made Zack pause a while to think. If this could all go over smoothly, and she didn't get up and run away, then…

"Uh…he's like me, except shier and not as loud. Kind of like a turtle."

"A turtle?"

"Yeah," Zack shrugged. "You make him feel uncomfortable and he just slips into his shell." Zack made a motion of a turtle slipping into his shell. "Once he's out, he can be slow in going. But he can surprise you if you give him a chance."

Tifa had grabbed an absent piece of hair, twisting it between her fingers. "So he's a lot like you…" she paused. "Except he's not."

"The exact description!" Zack shouted jubilantly.

She sighed, rubbed her temples. "Has he done anything that would make you question things about him?"

"Oh, he does things all the time that make me question his self in general," Zack said, leaning forward. "Just a week ago, he bought a motorcycle – spontaneously." He spoke in a way that suggested no, spontaneous turtles did not exist. "And he named it. Fenrir. Fenrir. Who comes up with a name like that?"

Tifa smiled a little. "Maybe he's found something to place his passion into."

"But he's…he's…" Zack didn't justify it with an ending. "And he cleans it every day. Sometimes even twice. Then he takes it out at night, to God knows where, and he doesn't come back for a few to several hours."

This made Tifa's lips fall into a grimace. "And this has never brought attention to your concern?"

"Well, no…" Zack rubbed at the back of his head. It hadn't in the slightest bit. "I just thought it was one of his phases. He has phases, you know."

"Hm," Tifa took another sip of her drink, and the cup landed with a hollow click on the table. "Maybe next time you talk to him, you can ask him about where he goes. At night, with his motorcycle I mean."

Maybe he would, Zack thought. I'll ask him where he goes with his motorcycle at night, for several hours at a time…

And then Zack was struck with something very morbid indeed.

"Oh, shit…"

Tifa seemed startled. "What's wrong?"

Zack's eyes widened in revelation, but stared at nothing in particular.

You see, Zack was kind of a master/king/superior in observing, memorizing, and uselessly educating himself in every fetish named in the world (and, also, to a few that weren't. You couldn't call yourself a master/king/superior if you didn't know the imaginary ones as well.)

And Cloud, plus an inanimate object, plus midnight to witching to sexing hours, could really, only mean one thing.

"…Objectophilia…" Zack gasped.

"Object…I'm sorry, what did you say?" Tifa's eyebrows were definitely in an unnatural pretzel.

Zack hurried to try to stifle his solution, his fingers going to scratch his lips in a vain attempt to erase the word he let slip.

"Ah…nothing." At her look, he emphasized, "Nothing."

She didn't relent.

"An…Object to fill…ah," he floundered. "His hobbies? Yeah, hobbies…and stuff."

Her face quirked at him, but she let it slide, albeit very reluctantly. Looking down at her cup, her eyes opened in realization and she changed her view to her silver watch.

"Um," she fiddled with her cup's rim. "Your friend is still coming, isn't he?"

At this, Zack reached for his phone from his back pocket. The time in the lighted background alarmed him. They had been sitting here for a good twenty minutes – fifteen minutes more than he originally planned.

It was strange. He wanted to keep talking. They hadn't even got to her, which was what was his ultimate intention, at first, and instead, it had changed into it being if Cloud was up to being qualified to keep her interest around…in a sense.

When the hell had that change happened?

"Right, yeah," Zack said. "That meeting must have been brutal."

"Must have been," she trailed. "Well, I have to be off to work. It was nice talking to you," she held her hand out in a genuine smile. It made her eyes go into that strange color from before, and he knew this was his moment to intervene.

Zack reached for her hand and took it inside his, lazily shaking. "It was nice," he said. Then he let their hands still, not letting it go. "But, you know what I'd think would be even nicer?"

Her smile faltered, and if Zack hadn't been so concentrated on what he was about to say, how he was going to deliver it, and what kind of smile he'd use, he would have noticed it.

"I think…" he leaned closer. "That it'd be a great idea if…" he paused for effect and leaned closer still. "You and Cloud went on a date!"

She shrank back, jotting her hand away from him. Her eyes were starting to spiral in mini-hurricanes, and her pretty, smiley face had become a shadow.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that idea is a very…nice one."

Freakin' coffee shops. There was something so obviously cursed about else were girls able to change that fast, unless the place they were in had a tattooed design in the backside of the alleyway, showing in copyrighted glee that yes, this place had been succumbed to the evil forces beyond human power?

"But – I honestly think you two would really hit it off," Zack used one of his most persuasive tones. "You two would have that chemistry – that flair – and I think it might just be able to make that frown on your beautiful face go away." He crooked his lips at her.

"I just don't.." her forehead creased. "I think the best that Cloud needs is space, and if I interfere with that, it'll aggravate his feelings more, and…"

Zack cupped her face in a gentle nudge, thumb moving over her chin in expertise. "Now, Tifa. I know him better than anyone. Even you, in your personality reading virtuoso." He winked. "And I think a night out, a real night out, with a person instead of an inanimate object, would be the greatest remedy for whatever is going on with him right now. Just a fun night with company, kinda like this twenty minutes we spent talking."

He bowed his head and lifted it again, staring at her in a plea. "So, what do you say?"

Her face had become a technicolor arrangement of sorts, all her thought processes giving way into one final, earth-shattering, fetish-breaking medley of…of…

Slowly, ever so slowly, resembling how she had eaten her cinnamon roll earlier, she nodded once, in one bob of hesitant climactic agreement.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt either of us to – "

She was cut off by a gut-bending hug, Zack swinging her around in a circle and dropping her back to the floor. Her lungs gave out a single, giant whoosh, mixed with a faint squeak, and she stumbled around in several shaky steps.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down!" he paused. "Or Cloud! You guys will hit it off and get married, have lots of little Tifas and Clouds and…oh, careful there." He padded her equilibrium with his forearms, and she hit his chest with a huff.

"It's going to be one date, Zack," she said, pushing away and onto her own feet again. "One."

"That's all it takes sometimes," he grinned wildly, crossing his arms and glancing down at her. She blinked and glanced away, back to the ticking of her watch again.

"Yeah, and sometimes it takes years," she muttered, then she said, "I really have to go now. Do you know a time and place?"

Through his planning of this whole thing, Zack prided himself in going so far as to already making reservations to the restaurant.

"Yep! 7:30 tomorrow night at Chocobo Andante," Zack resounded with swagger.

Her eyebrow rose at the choice, but she took it in stride. "Alright. See…him then." She produced a smile of farewell and headed on her way through the door, the metal clap noting her departure.

Zack sighed in utter content, watching her tread over the crosswalk. Cloud was going to go be a gentleman to a wonderful lady, and he would be cured of everything.

Zack was sure of it.

a/n; i...didn't read over this. /dies of shame
let me know what you think so far! (: