iii; and could only end with some sweetness.

The Chocobo Monster.

When her eyes fell on the name and she peeked her eyes above the dessert menu, it was the metaphorical twisting of the knife.

On his wallet.

The price was textually sized a point-one-two-five and needed nothing less than a microscope to comprehend where the decimal stopped the numbers preceding it. In bouts of screwing his pupils on the print sideways, backwards, upside down, and at various angles which were not related to the normal left-to-right direction of reading, Zack came up with the single, inevitable way he would ever be inclined to wound his battered wallet.

"You're putting out," he said.

But when the waiter placed the heated pan before them, a giant cookie stabilizing mounds and mounds of ice cream, waterfalls of chocolate syrup made from Madagascan cocoa beans, weaved with a shawl of feathery whipped cream, drizzled with handpicked almonds from Romania, and topped with a single, fiery cherry at the very tip top, standing out before all the world to see, Zack wondered, minutely, if his choice of her in the coffee shop yesterday was perhaps the greatest idea he ever had the chance of having.

"On the first date?" she mumbled, arching her head to see the peak of the chocobo shaped spectacle. "You're on lent, remember?"

"I was lying. The whole time."

When they had devoured enough of it to pop the thread holding their attire together and enough to actually see each other on the opposing ends of the dining table, Zack leaned away in his chair in a fit of utter, happy contentment.

But there was something nagging him in the back of his head, walking around leisurely all night until it came to a rest on the tip of his tongue.

Damn it, Cloud. This is your entire fault.

"So, Tifa…" he prodded, hiding back a blush. Because he did not blush, on principle.

She was twirling her fork in a chocolate river, leaning forward enough to make that thing bluster and blister and bubble distractingly.

"Uh…you know, I've been wondering this for a while…" he hesitated, and at such a hesitation, she glanced up from creating a blockade with the prongs of her utensil. She raised an eyebrow.

He could always blame it on the wine and beer and maybe whiskey, he reasoned.

"Are those…real?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are what real?"

"You know," he gestured. "You can't tell me you've never been asked before."

She became that fiery little cherry, but Zack couldn't tell if it had been popped in anger or chagrin or both.

"Of course I have," she said. "I just wasn't expecting something like that from you."

Zack winced. "I'm at least twenty-five percent alcohol. I got brave…er."

She sighed, grumbled for a second, then answered indignantly, "Yes, they are real."

"I knew it!" Zack whooped. "I knew it. Silicon in his face."

"What?" she stared at him.

"Uh, nothing. I just – knew you wouldn't be the type for implants. That's all."

She ignored him. "Whose face were you talking about?"

Zack bit his tongue. He couldn't honestly say Cloud's, could he? Wasn't that against some mancode, made up some ancient years before?

He rolled his eyes. Aw, hell. Who cared. This was Tifa, and he found her name made him feel too comfortable.

So he pardoned her into the story of Zack's quest to quell the S's of life. Which somehow commenced his defense upon becoming the master/king/superior of fetishes, which then easily encountered the factor of Objectophilia and Cloud's in-denial discrepancies of such a subject, which then led to him asking her about fetishes. Because he knew she had fetishes. He knew.

And she had answered. With laughter.

Zack liked this very much.

Zack waited until she was in the ladies' room to pay the bill. His pride could not let him stand to have her watching his hand shake, holding a pen before the multitude of numbers printed on the receipt. Not to say that his hand did shake. It was only a precaution he found necessary to take in such a fine restaurant, and that's all it was. A precaution.

He didn't even think about him turning puce.

But as it went, there were no instances of upchucking or sloppy signatures, much to Zack's satisfaction. He led her out to the cab he called, and they ended up sitting a respectable, aggravating distance away. Much to his dissatisfaction.

First date, he reminded his hands. First date.

Though.. it felt a few steps ahead in terms of compatibility, a few steps back in terms of her innocent modesty.

"I've got a question," he said, placing his palm near hers on the seat. "Are you always so suspicious when a guy comes up to you?"

She plucked her hand and placed it in her lap. "What do you mean?"

"At the coffee shop," he positioned himself. "You almost closed me off completely."

"I'm the bartender at my business. I guess I'm just used to doing that."

"You can't be like that all the time," he said. "Ever enjoy the attention once in a while?"

She opened her mouth, making eye contact with him. She closed it, and then opened it again with a smile.

"I don't think I'm one for the limelight."

"You could be," he shrugged. "Easy."

She fiddled with her fingers. "I don't know," she said. "I put my heart into my work, but it's not that. I listen to the town's problems. I always lend my ear and advice for whoever needs it, and I watch them smile at me and leave me tips, but I don't know, Zack," she trailed. "Some pay for my company, but they always leave, and some never come back."

She looked at him. "Strange thought, huh?"

Zack really, really wanted to grab her hand, right then.

"Not at all," but he refrained. "You just have a giant heart," he smiled. "Like that cinnamon roll."

She seemed confused for a second. "Oh, that one. Why were you watching me eat that, again?"

"'Cause it was hot."

She punched his shoulder, and it hurt, but he grabbed her wrist before she had a chance to spring it back to her lap. From the force, she slid a little bit closer to him.

"But I honestly think the right person will stay," he said, before she wormed herself away. "What bar is it, by the way?"

"It's Seventh Heaven."

A street lamp glared onto his face through the window, respect drawing a glow. The light made a realization dawn on him. "This whole time? And you never told me?"

"You never asked," she squeaked.

The tires hit a bump, erasing a few inches.

"I go there a – lot. I can't believe I've never seen you!"

"It gets pretty crowded. Maybe you're always in the back."

Usually he was in the back, sometimes flirting, sometimes galvanizing with old pals. But to miss her? To miss the gossip of the vivacious bartender who served drinks and advice to anyone who needed it?

"Small world," he rubbed a hand over his face.

"Very," she agreed, relaxing into the seat, but suddenly hit a solid substance instead of the springy one she was aiming for. Her peripheral vision whispered that he had wrapped his arm around her back. Her hand told her it was not in her feminine lap, but a male one, and if anything else, he had prodded his time to get in this exact position.

She slowly turned to face him.

He awarded her with a dazzling grin.

"What can I say?" he said. "I have a way of warming up to people."

In the midst of her irritation, because it was irritation, the taxi driver chuckled.

But much to Zack's disappointment, the drive ended before he could finish anything that he so happened to think about, especially after he had worked so hard.

"We're here," said Bob, the taxi driver. "Comes out to twenty-two gil, ma'am."

Zack reached into his pocket, but Tifa's touch stopped him.

"Don't," she said. He grimaced, and she beckoned. "Please."

He put his wallet away and watched her pay off the ride with a begrudging taste in his mouth. Though, through the smile she gave him, he understood her reasoning.

Zack told Bob to wait a few minutes while he escorted Tifa to her door, and the man was nice enough not to ask for wait-money. "Take your time, sport."

He scowled, but thanked his good luck, this time around.

But it was what he saw, at that very moment, which made his body crumple into a wrinkled mess on the pavement.

Fenrir was parked by the apartment complex. And it so happened that Cloud walked out of the building, with – with –

A girl.

A real girl.

"Cloud?" Zack shrieked. Tifa was right rigid beside him.

Cloud started, swiveling his head to the pair. "Z…Zack?"

"CLOUD?"

"…Tifa?"

"…Hi."

"Tifa..."

"CLOUD?"

"Zack…"

"Zack?"

Zack nearly fainted. "Cissnei?"

"Zack!"

"Cissnei…?"

"Hey, Cissnei."

"Well hey, Tifa."

"Tifa?"

"Zack, please."

"Cloud? Cissnei?"

"Zack – "

"CLOUD."

"Zack, really – "

"Fenrir."

"Zack, what are you – "

"Cissnei."

"Yes, I'm right here, Zack."

"And Cloud."

"Okay, Zack," Tifa gripped his arm. "I think we're all on the same page now."

Unfortunately, they were not.

Cloud, Cissnei, and Zack were letting their eyes stew on each pair, left to right to left once more. Cloud's eyes were like dinner plates, straying to Tifa, back to Zack. Cissnei was biting her lip, glancing from Cloud to Zack in puzzlement, and then following Cloud's eyes to Tifa, whom she gave a small smile. Zack's facial expression was comically strange, with his mouth partly open and his teeth showing through.

Tifa, it seemed, was quicker on the uptake.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Zack gained his composure after a multitude of seconds, straightening his stance.

Cloud was silent awhile, looking off to the street and back to Zack's prying eyes.

"I was," he said. "You just always…push me, and I wanted to do this on my own."

Zack loosened his hand in a little shake. He did? Did he? Well…of course he pushed Cloud. Nobody else would. The kid had potential to live every once in a blue moon, so why not try for every day instead?

"You could have just said so, you know," Zack smiled, but it was plastic and indigestible, the fake up-tilt seeming more like a grimace.

"No, I didn't." Cloud shrugged. He changed balance from his left foot to his right, abbreviating his obvious discomfort. "But I'll know next time."

Zack looked away from Cloud's stare. He was starting to feel a bubble of hurt. "I – wanted to help you."

Cloud moved his lips in a pressed, crooked frown. "I should have realized sooner, Zack."

"..."

"I'm sorry."

So Zack would have been upset a little, stinging, just a little, feeling that bubble pop and pop, but at Cloud apologizing? Going out of his way to articulate words that Zack found himself trying to persuade out of him ever since meeting him in the barracks back in Wutai?

Zack was justifiably in joyous awe.

He grinned from the apartment bricks to the yellow door of the taxi in record time, downer emotions easily waved away. "Never thought I'd hear that from you."

Cloud rolled his eyes in a glare. "Don't get used to it."

But after that, after the mood shifted into a bond of genial respect of happy, boyish proportions, it changed yet again. Cloud's eyes flicked to the side, and Zack noticed immediately. He felt a twinge of wanting to grasp, to wrap an arm around Tifa, sparkle down his forearm, into his fingers, but he closed his fist in various spurts. If he had learned anything from this whole ordeal, it would have been this: Zack did not have the power of control. Sure, he could put plans into action, attempt to set things in motion, but there were times where placing himself inside others shoes did not always work like the stories said.

Tifa's choice, he knew – the moment he tried to chew her and figure out if there was any baking soda inside her at all – would never rely on anyone but herself.

"Tifa – " Cloud caught. Tifa had been staring at him.

"It's been a long time, Cloud," she said, and Zack was proud. She hadn't given a single stutter.

He nodded, opening his mouth and hesitating. He blinked and he said, "How – how've you been?"

It was the pivotal moment. Zack sucked in an almost audible breath, keeping his eyes open in the wake, as if what would happen next, in the split second, would be a car crash.

But what it felt like, then, in the one moment, in the point-two-fifths of a second of decision making and neuron-snapping, Zack was enveloped into the collision.

It was ooey-gooey-sticky-sweet, running down the inside of his elbow, the veins of his forearm, and to the digits of his slender, blunt fingers.

She melted her hand into his.

"I've been great," and she smiled and it wasn't pretty, but shit, was it beautiful.

Zack felt his cheeks dying in a – a blush.

"And yourself?"

Cloud's perception, believe it or not, was Guinness World Record worthy. It could have been Zack's imagination, but it seemed Cloud glanced quickly to Zack then to Tifa in a slightly guarded stance. And though it faded in a duration of two to three seconds, Zack knew two to three seconds could back up a myriad of thoughts. Whatever those thoughts might have been, Zack figured, he wouldn't readily know anytime soon.

But after that, Cloud looked to his own date, eyes retreating in a small, pronounced smile.

"I've been great, too."

Zack grinned, swelling with something like brotherly affection.

Cissnei nudged him, and Cloud scratched his head, abashed.

"It was nice seeing you guys," Cissnei grinned along, taking the whole scene in in the background. "Especially you, Zack. It's been too long."

"It has," Zack agreed. "I think this calls for a double date, sometime soon."

Cloud opened his mouth with furrowing brows, but Cissnei beat him to the punch. "Definitely. Don't you think so, Cloud?"

Cloud merely nodded, stunned.

At Cloud's acquiescence, Zack laughed and realized Cloud had his experience with Zack's leading, main character nature cut out for him. In the form of Cissnei.

Gotta love it, Zack thought, watching her lead Cloud toward Fenrir. "Sorry to cut this short, you guys, but we'll be late to the movie!"

Beside him, Zack felt Tifa stifling a giggle. "It's no problem. You guys have fun!" she called as they boarded onto the motorcycle, and Cloud, before he revved up the engine, was heard saying, "Zack dated you...too?"

And as they sped off down the street, Zack and Tifa's hands stayed glued.

"So," he said. "A double date…you okay with that?"

She glittered with red, red whiskey eyes. "I think I can manage."

"Now, that's what I like to hear." Zack brushed her bangs from her eyelashes, noting that at this close distance, a tiny, faint freckle appeared on the peak of her nose.

"Do you – do you want my…number?" her eyelids fell toward the half-way mark, creating her dilated pupils into such an appeasing droop.

Zack took in her lips with his eyes. "Nah." He wouldn't need it.

She blinked, coming out of her daze. "Oh. I didn't mean – "

He leaned more, under the spell of her ooey-gooey hand and that adorable little freckle. He pressed a lingering kiss into the turn of her lips and the curving of her cheek. It was just enough to taste the Madagascan cocoa beans from minutes before.

"I think I'd rather come find you, instead," he whispered, ultimately satisfied by the obvious affect he was exuding onto her. "I'll notice you, this time around."

"Oh," she said. She backed away to look up to him. "Oh, that's a nice idea."

"Better than the one I had before?" he joked.

She tapped his nose.

"Almost."

And Zack knew, without a doubt, he was hooked - it turned out, perhaps, there was almost too much baking soda he could handle.

"I agree."

an; thanks for reviewing, guys.
I hope you enjoyed it - as much enjoyment as I had writing it!~
(and...Cloud/Cissnei? LOL; CRACKY MUCH? &&&&heart.)