A/N: Why, WAS, it's an AU! Yes, friends, yes it is. This is an AU, which I was commissioned to do by my good friend Trust Knight. I don't think that this is quite what she had in mind when she requested this, but so be it. This is how I interpreted it. It's my first stab at an AU, so your feedback is appreciated :)

Happy Leap Day, all!

Disclaimer: Nope, characters and FFVII aren't mine. Yay Square.

Tiniest Of Moments

He's got five pizzas hefted up onto his right shoulder and he thinks he feels a trickle of grease leaking out from the bottom one and winding its way down his blaringly red vest.

It's not the most graceful or handsome position or outfit to be in, and he knows he should move on before he gets caught staring, but he can't- he's rooted to the ground, mesmerized. She's really pretty, he thinks to himself, watching her laugh and smooth out the wrinkles in her equally alarmingly red vest (though he thought she looked quite cute in it).

She's sitting next to him, and he always swings by the 7th Heaven pizza parlor at 6:37 p.m. every day, right after his college football practice. His well-toned arm is wrapped around her slender shoulders loosely, a casual but firm gesture, a warning to all other males to back off.

She has a lot of friends, he's noted. The jocks, the rebels, the rejects, the dorks. Everyone seems to like her, but he doesn't find that surprising. Her laughter is warm and her eyes sparkling. Her smile-to-frown ratio is exceedingly high, and she has the softest raven locks he thinks he's ever seen. Her eyes are red, red like wine, red like rubies, red, red, red. They're the only eyes he thinks he would be able to describe in epic detail because frankly, he's spent the most time staring at her and her face.

Today her guy (what was his name? Zell? Zack?) has brought along all of his football friends. All the muscular gargantuans are squashed in the tiny plastic booth together, but they don't seem to mind. They all eye her and eye him enviously, but they know she's his territory and they know better than to make a move.

She works here too, and that's why she's wearing the trademark red vest of 7th Heaven. She's a waitress, but oftentimes he'll yank her over onto his lap and force her to take a break from smiling brightly all the time at all the customers, and they'd end up like the way they are now, cuddled together, listening to a story another football goon is telling.

She's pretty and happy and there are a lot of things he wishes he had the guts to tell her. Like his name. But he's always had a pathological fear of rejection, so the words that hang on the tip of his tongue stay there, on the verge of voicing themselves before he bites them back. In the end, he always just passes her by. She flashes him a smile occasionally when she catches him staring- he's always embarrassed, but she just shrugs it off and continues on.

He wonders if Zack knows that she's a psychology major, that she's taken on this job to help pay for college tuition, that she's not just a pretty face, that there's a brain behind the beauty and a vibrant personality behind the clothes.

He doubts it.

Sometimes he wishes she'd be in danger- not because he wants her to get hurt, but because he wants to be the one to save her, to be her hero.

Of course, he doesn't realize that she could probably break both his arms faster than he could form a fist.

He realizes he's been standing there for several minutes now, and shuffles his feet awkwardly before heading for the door. He's got to make another round of deliveries, and it will probably be after nine before he can get home today.

He shivers slightly in the biting winter chill, protected only by his cheerful red-and-white 7th Heaven jacket, with the phone number and logo printed in bold red letters across the back, as well as down the side of his 7th Heaven sweatpants.

He was essentially a walking promotional advertisement.

He hopped behind the wheel of his beyond-ancient station wagon, a gift (or a curse) from his father for his sixteenth birthday, checking to make sure the light-up sign on top indicating that he was a delivery boy driving a delivery car was shining brightly before starting the engine up.

As he peels away from his parking spot he thinks he can see her figure illuminated by the warm glow of the lights inside the parlor. But he doesn't stop to make sure, because he knows if he starts looking at her again, he may never stop.

-x-

He likes to think about what would happen if they did ever introduce themselves. If she would see that he's more than just the introverted pizza delivery boy, that he's studying for a medical degree, that he has a brain too. He wonders if she'll try to get to know him, and if they'll ever be close, if she'll ever know that he secretly loves fencing and cheesecake, and that he has a phobia of cats and is allergic to certain types of raspberries.

He drives down the deserted street, watching the suburbia flash by. His first deliveries are on the west side of town, where the third-class families live. The houses slowly get shorter and shorter, the yards smaller and smaller, the houses more and more cramped. But he doesn't notice, because he enjoys these car rides because it's peace and quiet, his two favorite things, and he likes to do something thinking at times like these.

-x-

Hi, my name is…

Nice to meet you, I'm…

I've seen you around the parlor and I…

Hey, you and I work together so I'd…

Let me introduce myself, I'm… Cloud. Cloud Strife.

-x-

He knocks on someone's door, his engine still running in his station wagon in the driveway, a large pepperoni pizza in hand. There's a scuffed-up welcome mat underneath his unforgiving sneakers, and two lonely begonias gasping for life in the tiny garden out front.

The door opens and a grumpy-looking teenage girl takes the pizza, raiding her pockets for change, and eventually handing over the 5.88 due in quarters and pennies and shoving it ungraciously in Cloud's hands, no tip included.

Before the girl turns and heads back inside, though, she pauses and asks, snickering, what kind of gel he uses to get his hair into those ridiculous gravity-defying spikes.

He tells her he doesn't.

He's driving again, staring out at the passing cars and flicking on his turn signal almost subconsciously as he turns into the next neighborhood, his internal map of the town of Edge directing him to a small one-story house.

This time it's answered by a middle-aged couple who smile kindly but don't look him in the eyes as they fork over the money and a generous tip.

People don't like looking him in the eyes. Maybe he comes off as too intense, or maybe they know they'd embarrass him if they gave him so much attention.

He knows his eyes are unnatural. They are a cerulean, a deep-sea blue, an azul or whatever other stupid poetic phrase his ex-girlfriend had liked to use to describe them.

He doesn't like looking people in the eyes either. Somehow he's always the first to turn away because he doesn't feel like letting people read him using his eyes. He likes to keep himself and his emotions guarded that way.

So most of the eye contact he makes is with the ground as he bids the couple a good night and heads back for his car.

-x-

Since we see each other so often, I thought that…

I'm so glad I finally met you…

I don't know if you know me, but I really wanted to…

Hey, I think you're a nice person, great to finally meet you… it's Tifa, right?...

-x-

He's in her neighborhood now, on the other side of town. A ritzy place, and that's where the last three pizzas go. Someone's have a party, he thinks, but he tries to stop doing so, because if he does while he's in this area his thoughts will inevitably trail to her.

People used to ask him how he had managed to get a girl like that. She's pretty and bubbly and generally optimistic. She's perpetually happy and has a smile for every occasion and her favorite color is pink. She's a cheerleader and on the honor roll, and on Wednesdays visits the local soup kitchen.

What strikes him most about her, however, are not her accomplishments or her color preferences, it's her eyes. They're green, green like emeralds, like a gemstone, or whatever other stupid poetic phrases she had liked to use to describe them. They're striking and bold too, just like his, but perhaps the difference between his eyes and her own are the emotions behind them. Hers are filled with joy and pride, with laughter and sunshine. His… he doesn't know, truly, what is behind them. He doesn't look at himself too often, and looks at his own eyes even less.

He isn't quite sure how he got her, either. He had always been the confused one in their relationship, dragged along while she controlled the hows and means. She told him what to buy her for her birthday or Valentine's Day, and she had insisted that they attend every school dance together, had always been the first to make the move.

He wonders what had made her ask him out. Maybe she had thought she'd seen muscles under his saggy 7th Heaven-wear. Maybe she had thought he'd be a sparkling ray of sunshine. That he'd be a strong fellow to take care of her, the damsel in distress.

She had been looking for a Zack, but all she'd gotten was Cloud.

-x-

He's back at 7th Heaven, now, the last pizzas delivered swiftly before gunning out of that neighborhood. Zack's gone by now, and the booth where he and his friends were is now filled with a happy family plus a gurgling baby.

He spots her carrying a check, a friendly smile on her face as she sets it down in front of a couple, politely asking if they need anything else. Her long hair is pulled by into a ponytail but a few strands have escaped and frame her face nicely, he thinks.

He almost doesn't hear his boss yelling at him to get the new list of deliveries and head back out again. Rufus is insanely intense about business, as he's learned all too well, and he doesn't tolerate for any ogling of particularly lovely waitresses.

At Rufus's angry shouts, she looks up and catches Cloud's eye, smiling sympathetically as if to say, "yeah, he can be an ass sometimes".

Cloud hurries to Rufus, whose eyes bulge unnaturally as he shoves a piece of paper into his hands, barking orders all the while. He turns around, hoping to catch her eye again, but only to see her vanish into the kitchen and reappear a second later, calling a good night to Rufus, who nods in return. Her shift is apparently over, and she pushes the glass door open and exits into the cool evening air, and is swallowed up almost immediately by the night.

Rufus is only docile when speaking with her, and Cloud thinks he knows why (he isn't the only one ogling her, apparently). Sighing, he heads back inside the kitchen, grabs the seven more pizza boxes that had been ordered, and heads for the door.

-x-

It was the same routine- drive smoothly along, let your mind go on auto-pilot… he drives silently, immersed in his thoughts. More deliveries for the west side of town, he thinks, turning into down a side street.

He almost doesn't catch the glaringly red vest trodding slowly down the side of the sidewalk-less road, but even in the darkest of nights it's like a beacon, calling out for all to notice it.

Without thinking (his body isn't taking orders from his mind right now anyways), he pulls over to the side of the street and rolls down the window. She has stopped, eyeing the station wagon with only mild suspicion, considering the equally bright 7th Heaven Delivery sign on top.

He's not quite sure what to say now, though, and feels awkward for just stopping. He half wishes he hadn't pulled over in the spur of the moment, but the other half of him (the one with his heart) is eager for the chance to talk to her at last.

He stares out of the passenger side window for a second, and she stares in back in, and there's a silence that he wishes someone would break, and the longer it stretches the thicker it gets and the more he knows it won't be him.

But then she smiles invitingly and asks him what he's doing, but in a friendly way.

He mumbles something about offering to drive her home. It's never occurred to him that she's not rich like Zack, that she could live in the west side of town and have to walk home instead of drive, that there's ever more layers to her he'll never know all of, but that he'd like to try. He knows she has to work to help pay her college tuition, but he figured that was just from stubborn parents.

She thanks him and fumbles with the door handle for a second, so he leans over across the remaining pizza boxes to open it for her from the inside, and apologizes because it's stuck.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbles, snatching the pizza boxes from the passenger seat and dumping them unceremoniously in the back, secretly praying that the boxes haven't leaked again and that she won't be treated to a puddle of grease when she sits down.

But she laughs merrily and he feels better, because she seems to be in high spirits and it's hard not to catch her mood, it's so infectious.

He slides back into the street and she tells him her address, which he tucks safely away into his memory. He doesn't like to think of himself as stalkerish, but he makes a note to swing past her house every time he's in the vicinity, on the off chance she'll be looking outside too.

He's never been more aware of himself and all of his surroundings than on this car ride. Usually when he drives he's not paying very much attention to the interior of his car or himself, but now his mind is on hyperdrive, making notes of how his windshield has a delicate coating of dead flies and random bug parts, of how his seats make funny squelching noises when you shift, of how his steering wheel creaks when you turn it too quickly, and how he's sitting so upright he may very well have had a metal poker jammed up his ass, and how his movements are stiff and awkward.

She doesn't seem to be having the same problems at all, however. She's settled comfortably in the car seat, already chatting animatedly about how Rufus was being obnoxious again. He tries to relax like her, but he's spent so long dreaming about their first meeting and interaction that it's hard to put it into words.

"Oh!" she cries suddenly, turning in her seat. He glances over, and manages to grunt out, "hmm?"

"I haven't even introduced myself. I mean, I know I've seen you around and you me, but we've never been properly introduced. I'm Tifa Lockhart." She beams, holding her hand out.

"Uh… I'm Cloud." he states blandly, peeling one hand away from the steering wheel long enough to shake hers very quickly. It was enough time to tell that the back of her hand was smooth and delicate, though her palms were calloused and tough.

"Nice to meet you Cloud," she smiles again, and he wonders if she's ever unhappy.

"So… do you not room at the college?" he ventures, trying to keep the conversation going. It's nice to speak and hear a response, and even nicer than she was the one responding.

"Oh, no. I… I can't afford it. I stay at my aunt's." her smile seems to falter a little, but her voice remains strong.

"Right." He nods, feeling bad. But she glances over at him and shakes her head.

"It's not big deal. We've never been that rich and I don't mind earning what I have."

"Mmm… so do your parents live out of town or something?" Now that they're talking, it's hard to stop and he wants so badly to learn about her, find out everything little secret and detail that made her into who she is today, that he's asking and getting personal for having just met her.

"… My parents are dead," she states flatly. There isn't any emotion accompanying her words, but rather it's just her stating the facts. They were what they were.

He stops questioning her, and silently wishes he were better at keeping up good, aimless small talk rather than being so tactless.

He also silently wonders if Zack knows this.

After a suitable amount of time where he simply drives down the streets and she just stares out the window, her pretty face unreadable, he can't help it. He speaks, because he's still desperate not to let this golden opportunity pass by.

"My mom died when I was a kid," he offers, attempting to break the silence in a not-so-awkward way.

She looks at him and smiles a little. "I'm sorry. It must hurt."

"Not more than losing both of them," he replies quietly.

"I got used to it. It is what it is, right?" her smile borders on the bitter side that time, but he appreciates her emotions. He'd only been sixteen when his mother died. Five years ago.

This time the silence stretches on for much longer, but it isn't a taut or tense lapse in their conversation. It is an agreeable silence, and he knows what she is thinking about, and her him.

When she speaks again, her voice was light and cheery and he knows he has said the right things. Or close enough.

It's not them talking like best friends, but more like warm acquaintances. And he can live with that. For now. They talk about simple things, like college and green tea and complaining about Rufus and dessert (she loves cheesecake too). It's amicable, and he catches himself very nearly smiling many times. The car seats don't bother him so much after she cracks up when he squelches particularly loudly, and even though he's embarrassed, the blush in his cheeks is for more than just that.

"So what were you doing, walking on the side of the road like that? Cars could've hit you, you know," he says, half-joking as he turns onto her street. He's not very good at being amusing, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he worries that she won't be able to tell that he's trying to be funny.

"Please, Cloud, nobody's going to miss me with this vest on." She shakes her head slightly, but he can tell she's teasing him.

Maybe he's not so bad at this social thing.

He pulls onto her driveway reluctantly. It's been so long since he's done something like that, talked to such a beautiful girl and communicated with anybody, really, that he's loathe to see it end. The pizzas are cold and uninviting now, and he knows he'll get a sound berating from Rufus if customers complain, but at this point he doesn't care.

She turns to face him and thanks him profusely for driving her home. He waves it away, and she leans over to squeeze his shoulders, insisting that they talk more later. And for a brief moment as she pulls back slowly her dark hair swings in front of his face and her lips and just inches from his and it'd take just the tiniest of moments and the shortest of seconds to do what his heart is aching and calling for him to do. And she lingers, for just the tiniest of moments, and for that moment he lets himself believe that she wants it too, he lets himself forget that there's a ripped guy named Zack who calls her his girlfriend, he lets himself forget that she's the girl of his wildest fantasies, he lets himself forget that he's afraid of rejection.

But then she's back in her seat and his window of opportunity has shrunk so rapidly he almost can't believe he didn't snatch at it.

She's still sitting there, though, and he wonders if she'll do something, if she'll do it and make the move because in the end he's still a coward when it comes to feelings and a beginner when it comes to love.

The moment hangs there, and there's no way she can't hear his heart pounding and his mind racing, there's no way she can't act on it…

But he's waited too long and now it's too late, the moment's gone, and instead of leaning over she just opens the car door and wishes him a good night. He mumbles a response, still in shock at himself and regretting every single move he just did (or did not do), before he realizes she's talking to him again.

"Hey Cloud… what kind of get do you use to get your hair into those ridiculous gravity-defying spikes?"

He stares at her for a moment, bemused, and then tells her it's Rude's E-Z Hassle-Free Pro Hair Gel.