Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Rated: PG
Warnings: Hetero-type romance thingy with a side order of combat.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Challenge: Are You Game?
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, Rude/Tifa: warriors - unlike their comrades, they prefer fists and feet
Spoilers: None really, but set sometime post-AC or DoC.
Pairings: Rude/Tifa
Summary: He had to be careful with most people, but not with her.
Author's Notes: Yep, I'm even writing for my own prompt just to get more Rude/Tifa fanworks out in the world.
Disclaimer: All things Final Fantasy VII belong to Square-Enix. Grassy only lays claim to the plot.
She enjoyed watching him fight, the sheer beauty of his powerful body and the strength of his will. Rude was meant for physical combat, just as Tifa was. While those around them chose their respective weapons to master and wield, Tifa and Rude were their own weapons and trained themselves accordingly.
Sweat glistened on visible skin, exertion and the evening's heat having left their mark on them both. Tifa enjoyed the feel of exhaustion, the tingling of her hands and feet left over from sparring. Working in the bar and tending to the kids often left her exhausted, but it wasn't the same at all.
Rude glanced at her sidelong, pouring the last of the water in his canteen over his head. Those small smiles, barely there and imperceptible to those who didn't know him, were always a joy to see. Rude wasn't one to deny or hide emotions, he was simply in control of them. And years of learning the language of his body made him much easier to read.
Emptying the last of her own canteen with a pleased sigh, Tifa shifted back into stance - she wasn't quite done with him yet, after all. And from the flash of teeth that answered her unspoken challenge, he wasn't finished yet, either.
The End