Kiss, a kingdom hearts fanfic

A/N

I know I should be working on Love Letter . . . but I just couldn't resist. It's longer than my usual standard one-shot. Hope you guys like. I let my friend proof read it ( she liked it mostly, but she said towards the end it was kinda OOC and too mushy for her liking ). I kept it the same anyways so yeah . . . R & R, and I will love you forever. ♥

Warning: Shoujo-ai straight ahead! As in girl x girl love people! I am warning you, if shoujo-ai is not your cup of tea it's called clicking the BACK button. I will not tolerate any ignorant flaming.

Disclaimer: There's no way I own Kingdom Hearts. I do not make any profit from this. I'm simply using them for my own sick and twisted purposes.

Kiss

By: Youkai Hime90

The first time was innocent.

They'd always enjoyed playing pretend, fabricating worlds of make believe with dragons and high towers and silken ball gowns. Long summer days were spent in the outdoors, letting their imagination carry them to the clouds on silver wings. Aerith would always play the princess, a wreath of daisies and lilies forever adorning her maple-brown hair as she lay in deep slumber in the open field of poppy, a whisper of wind causing the tall grass to sway along to a soundless, whimsical melody. She'd looked like something out of a storybook that day, eyelashes fluttering briefly like butterfly wings as attempted to stifle a giggle - - girlish laughter chiming like silver bells. Her eyes fluttered briefly, a deep emerald, before fluttering back closed.

"This is the part where you're supposed to kiss me," the smaller girl breathed airily, eyes still closed. "You're the prince and I'm the princess, right?"

Tifa had nodded, captivated by the girl encased in pink and white lace with flowers in her hair. A light pink tinged her normally pale, porcelain features and she forced herself to grin, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. Little girls aren't supposed to blush when other little girls smile at them. Immediately squashing that thought before it had the chance to grow into something totally irrational and catastrophic, Tifa slipped back into her role as Prince Charming trying to wake the sleeping beauty from the horror of her nightmares. It was her only role, or so she told himself.

Tifa bent forward, giggling (out of anxiety or actual amusement one could only guess) brushing her lips against Aerith's just ever so slightly. She froze then, eyes widening in utmost horror at her mistake and reeled back hastily, shoulders stiffened with all manner of unnaturalness. Solid, angular, and unmoving, as though she was carving herself from wood or stone. A statue of a girl that could not be held responsible for her (its) actions.

She had forgotten to place her hand over Aerith's mouth before going to kiss her and Tifa stammered out a quick apology, guiltily avoiding the older girl's gaze.

"My first kiss," Aerith beamed in all her innocence, raising her fingers to her rose-bud mouth in faint wonder. Tifa had reached up to touch her own lips as well, wondering over this strange new sensation as her face flushed a noticeable shade of prim rose-pink.

Tifa turned her head away, dark hair hiding her face from view as she watched Aerith pick another daisy. Little girls aren't supposed to enjoy kissing other little girls.

The second time was a mistake.

Aerith had been sleeping, more or less peacefully (or at least, so her outward appearance would suggest - what images flashed behind those closed lids, she didn't know), and Tifa bent her lips to hers. She was the charming prince (she reminded herself quickly as if to explain in a rational way to herself her irrational actions). But when Aerith's eyelashes fluttered as she struggled into consciousness, she stilled her with a whispered, "Shh, go back to sleep," and smoothed down her soft, brunet hair, and knew she was far from a prince. She was beginning to suspect she was the villain.

The third time was a thoughtless error.

Their world had been taken by the darkness, and they had been forced to flee to Traverse Town and leave anything and everything remotely home behind. Lovers were pulled apart by the stretch of time. The once valiant fell in battle. People suffered. People died. Life didn't care and the world didn't stop spinning, instead it went on, weary and unaffected by the anguish of the few and far between. The horror of it all finally hit home for Tifa when she took her first step off that air ship leaving Radiant Garden forever and landing in the Third District of Traverse Town.

"So this is our home now," Tifa breathed, puffs of warm air falling away gently as she looked around the dismally and equally dark suburbs somberly. She shivered brightly, rubbing her arms in some vain attempt to gain some warmth. "Looks depressing."

Yuffie sniffed, and Aerith pet the younger girl's head affectionately. "Let's just try to make the best of it," she said, eyes glowing in the near darkness. The white mage spared the martial artist a glance out of the corner of her eye, "after all we still have each other, right?"

After wearily, and perhaps, reluctantly settling into their new home, Tifa helped Aerith to help the others adjust to this new, strange world. Aerith had a firm yet gentle way of speaking that reached her eyes, and Tifa with her big fists and heart was there to help her every step of the way. They all worked together, eventually forming a very strange, yet functional family, but a family nonetheless. Aerith sold flowers, Cid sold whatever he could get his hands on, and Yuffie trained consistently with Leon in the caverns underground the city. Everything seemed to go smoothly until the day the Heartless came again, leaving chaos and utter destruction in their wake.

But, Tifa had been ready.

"If anything happens, and I'm not there . . ."

The sound of a scream pierced the air, and amidst the fighting Tifa's ears perked up, white-hot terror gripping her heart and wrapping around it like a vice.

'Aerith!'

". . . just promise me you'll take care of her until I come back."

She saw the trail of discarded flowers and stuck close to it, batting off low-level Heartless like pesky fruit flies as she went, leading her straight into a dark, back alley where she found them: Aerith and Yuffie. They were huddled in the far corner together, the flower girl standing in front of the ninja-girl protectively with her staff in hand as she cast Firaga and Ice repeatedly. The enemy surrounded them on all sides and began closing in, and Tifa wasted no time in nailing each and every Heartless that strayed across her path. Raven hair flounced in her face as she delivered deadly blows and punches with familiar ease, and out of the corner of her eye Tifa saw it.

A Shadow was creeping up closely behind Aerith, who was otherwise preoccupied as she moved her hands in a frenzy, working to summon any sort of spell to help rend the dark forms asunder. She didn't seem to notice the spindly creature as it stealthily made its way closer and closer, eagerly closing in on its prey. Yellow eyes glowed eerily in the shadows as they met hers briefly across the alley. Tifa watched distantly as Yuffie tossed her shuriken, missed, and utterly, entirely failed.

'Enough of this.'

The Shadow jumped, claw aimed to swipe Aerith's chest, aimed to rip and tear out Aerith's beating heart, and Tifa skidded to a quick halt in front of her without a moment's hesitation. Blood, her blood, a quick punch, another scream, and then it was gone, evaporating in smoky wisps back into the shadows. Tifa paid it no attention.

"Tifa!" she called out, voice overshadowed with fear and worry. Aerith ran to her side hastily, Yuffie trailing behind her in tow. She bent forward on one knee, brushing Tifa's dark hair out of her ruby red eyes, brow creased with concern. "Are you okay?"

In a flurry of ebony, the martial artist had launched herself into the flower girl's arms and refused to let go of her, face buried in the crook of her neck as she breathed in the scent of buttercups and bellflowers. After a few halfhearted attempts at breaking free Aerith finally just gave up, worrying her bottom lip as she held Tifa closer.

Fate had chosen for that moment for her eyes to bear into hers irresistibly, and Tifa leaned in, pressing her lips against the other girl's with the same drive and passion that she did everything else with (wholeheartedly).

Tifa kissed her in blessed relief.

The fourth time was an accident.

They'd spent another agonizing day fighting off the Heartless and everyone was exhausted, Yuffie nearly collapsing into a deep, dreamless sleep in Aerith's lap, Squall even going so far as to doze off on the couch.

Aerith was worn down, that was to say, she was pale and tired, and Tifa felt an ache so deeply for the older girl, who was forced into the role of caretaker so very young, and she wanted only to comfort and show appreciation. Tifa watched Aerith watch her, jade eyes distant and glowing with her ethereal power as she concentrated on healing her, green magic flaring around her red-rimmed wound. She went to kiss Aerith's cheek but, instead was met with the unfortunate timing of Aerith's head turning. Their lips met for only the briefest of seconds before the error was realized, polished jade greeting garnet briefly in blatant perplexity as Tifa pulled away.

And sometimes, a second was all it took.

The fifth time was not an accident.

They were both awake, both aware, and Tifa had stuttered that she loved her, and fumbled to kiss her. The quiet, smooth confidence that came with being a very skilled martial artist had faded, as she was intelligent enough to know that this was very, very wrong. Of course, "wrong" was a difficult word to define. To her surprise, Tifa realized, as Aerith merely sat there perfectly still and silent (not crying out in disgust), Aerith was not shying away. She did not return her awkward ardor, but still she did not retreat from her, either.

Tifa released Aerith, the taste of her chapped lips still on her own, the image of her tired eyes burned forever to the backs of her eyelids.

"Tifa," she said, one word, with a host of questions woven into the tone with which it was said. Confusion, for starters, and worry and worst of all, shame.

Of course, Tifa thought, with a fierce stab of disloyalty; even though in all of his absence, even though he had chosen to leave them (leave her) to pursue his darkness, with Aerith it always came back to him. It always came back to Cloud. Even though she was the one who protected Aerith from danger, even though she was the one that was always by the flower girl's side 24/7, even though he was the cause of her tears in the middle of night when she thought no one was listening (but Tifa always listened) Cloud was the one she wanted. Cloud was the one she loved.

They were destined after all, like the perfect fairytale (tragedy and romance had blurred and frayed along the edges sometime ago), the Soldier and his flower girl, the prince and his princess. The red ribbon of fate tied the two of them together, keeping their hearts forever connected across the vast expanse of time. It was stupid of Tifa to think she even had a chance, stupid of her to think she could come in between something like that. Stupid to dislike it, stupid to be annoyed.

Stupid to be jealous.

"Tifa," said Aerith, "why?"

When she answered, it was with startling honesty. "I don't really know."

Aerith's eyes were dark and glittering with sadness in the near darkness and Tifa looked away, clenching her fists almost painfully as she stared at the wooden planks below her boot-clad feet guiltily.

"You know it's wrong, don't you, Tifa?"

You know I have to wait for him, don't you, Tifa?

Tifa knew the difference between right and wrong, was a fierce humanist yet, could not bring herself to honestly give a damn. She didn't want to turn it off. She loved Aerith, and while it caused her considerable agony, being anywhere near her gave her a sense of safety and comfort and happiness unlike anything else she had experienced since this ordeal had started.

Tifa did not doubt that even if the circumstances were different, she would still be tortured with this. She had known from that first kiss, when she had seen Aerith lying in that field of flowers alone and patiently waiting for her savior to come and sweep her off her feet that she had wanted to be her Prince Charming. Tifa had wanted to make Aerith's dream a reality; a true best friend was hard to come by nowadays, so it was only natural that she be attached to Aerith.

There was a difference between attachment and obsession, however, and a difference between sisterly love and loving your best friend.

The fondness she had developed for the frail, sweet girl had started out innocently enough, but somewhere along the way the lines of sisterly affection and loving your best friend had become horribly, terribly blurred. Somewhere along the way, Tifa had fallen for Aerith; it was perhaps the most wonderful feeling in the world, either bringing her great joy or utter despair.

This time was no exception.

The sixth time was a disaster.

She'd been crying when she'd found her; she went to smooth her hair back, to offer her some reassurance, to be a proper friend. What she'd done was very much improper. She pushed back the silken strands, realizing her face was dirt-smudged from spending so much time in her gardens, and she loved her all the more. She knelt before her, tired and weary herself, and kissed her with an inhuman desperation. She needed something, anything, to erase the exhaustion she felt, to take away the ache in her limbs, to warm her and soothe her and save her. She needed something, and she found Aerith.

The sixth kiss was where Aerith kissed her back.

Aerith did not resist, but leaned away from her, blinking up at her with wet, tired eyes. Tifa smiled then, untying the ribbon in her hair and casting it aside without so much as another thought. She combed her fingers through Aerith's luxurious hair, admiring the way it cascaded down her shoulders like a chest-nut brown waterfall.

"You're beautiful, "Tifa breathed, eyes wide with wonder; wonder, that such a beautiful and pure and angelic creature was allowing her to touch her.

Aerith kissed her then, and the movement was sudden as she pressed her lips against the other girl's, fingers stiff on the skin of her neck, her movements slow but precise.

Tifa lost herself in that moment, her hands in her hair, and knew two things. The first was happiness, no matter how ugly, no matter how fleeting. The second was that Aerith, who was in her arms in a way that a best friend that's practically your brother's girlfriend should never be in the villain's arms, was right.

When they were done kissing, panting, cheeks flushed and eyes shining as they simply sat there with their foreheads pressed together, Aerith giggled.

"You're the prince, and I'm the princess, right?"

But, this wasn't pretend; this was real.

Tifa grinned, and it wasn't phony and it wasn't forced. It was a genuine, face-splitting, real smile. "No. . ." She kissed her again, lost in her, lost in Aerith, "but it's still a fairytale."

( i got the princess Cloudie . . . in your face )

♥