a/n; silly silly silly. but it took stress away so YAYY!

enchanté.

or, enchanted, delighted, charmed.

Things happen in a bar. Sleazy, suggestive grins, looming glances, ungodly amounts of alcohol consumption – but these things never bothered Tifa. Never had, never would. Never would, never had. She could cringe thinking about some of the patrons' livers, raise her voice to others to sustain semblance of order, and smile back to all the crinkled cheeks from hearty smiles directed toward her. She could enjoy the rambunctious, lively atmosphere, talking, maintain the upkeep of friends in town. Though, there was a reason she kept her gloves donned even as she wiped down the counter and tossed ice cubes in crystal glasses.

But all of this only happened at night.

During the day, however, oh during the day. There was nothing to compare the flushed cheeks of the night from conversation and attention to the day.

Things happen during the day.

Breakfast happened, of course. Kissing the kids on the forehead and wishing them a good day as school happened. Telling, that is - not kissing on the forehead - Cloud goodbye had happened.

..still happens. Tifa rolled her eyes and huffed.

But different things happened too…like Cloud smiling and Cloud acting lighter and cocky and slightly aggressive like in those good old days of pro-planet rebellion. Cloud was acting like Cloud, and yet he wasn't.

Cloud was acting promiscuous. Well, not promiscuous exactly – close enough. Maybe, Tifa thought, the right word was flirty. Flirty or suggestive or – or… sexual.

Perhaps sexual was too flirty was too extreme. Perhaps all of these small perceptions Tifa was noticing were being blown up tenfold from her overactive brain. It wasn't like she fantasized about Cloud all the time. Sure, she'd admit to thinking about him every so often, but she didn't fall over her feet whenever he was around like she felt she used to. She would heartily declare to anyone who asked that she wasn't that heartbroken, unrequited girl from a few years ago who would idly sit by and look longingly toward their leader and hope to receive a glance of recognition. Nope. Saving the world twice over does wonders to maturity levels. And Tifa would be the first to admit that her fists and legs could put more than asses in place.

Tifa would also be the first to admit that even though her low tolerance levels of flirtation - or whatever it was - irritated her, she couldn't deny how he could still make her hot and flustered like a sixteen year old high on hormones when he asked her a simple questions like, are you going to bed soon?

Need help with that?

Want me to push it in harder?

How about if you just rub your hand on it?

You sure you can handle that?

Wanna have se—

How in the world – Tifa stopped her furious mopping of the floors and gave a deflating sigh. She fanned herself.

She blamed the cleaning.

She found the bucket and plunged the mop into the ammonia concoction, drowning the mop dreads then squeezing out the excess, continuing on her rampage of dust busting.

He also had this new swagger. It was different, and it didn't seem new, but it had the resemblance of what must have been a fancy tuxedo suit. It looked good on him, all sharp and slightly arrogant in a refined manner. It was confident – almost overconfident – but it seemed to be a completely unconscious movement, because Cloud had the look of obliviousness throughout all the changes he was undergoing.

Tifa stumbled over an uneven floorboard. He didn't even realize what he was doing. A good thing? Thinking about it, Tifa thought so. He wasn't trying to become himself – it was more like he was growing into it – and that was a vast improvement from all those past experiences of going out to find himself, losing all semblance of himself, then trying to regain said semblance of self.

Though the perks of living in the same quarters with Cloud definitely outweighed the little nags of irritation Tifa had against herself, it was even more incredibly irritating when she detected that she liked these irritations.

Tifa finished the barroom, wiping up the last little crevasses of the top right corner of the room. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, left hand leaning on the stick of the mop. Sighing again, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her hand up against the mop.

"Oh, Cloud…"

And to think, shouldn't she be over being so completely incapacitated by just thinking about him, twelve years after actually knowing him? She couldn't be this hung over on him could she?

"Yeah?"

Tifa jumped, spinning around, clenching her fists in an automatic defense position. She glared at the man in front of her, noticing that he really had definition in his chest, his arms, probably his stomach, but she wouldn't really know that. His hair was a whipped up in more spikes than usual. The glare drained from Tifa's face into a sick mixture of horror and pure excitement.

Oh, but she was hung up on him. Hung up on him just like a towel after showering, clothes on clotheslines, Marlene's drawings on the fridge. And she couldn't get over it.

"Cloud?" she said, voice raising a few octaves. "What are you doing here so early?"

The sun was still above the horizon. Very… high above the horizon.

Damn Fenrir. She knew that engine was much too huge.

"Early from deliveries," he said, faintly smiling, procuring a dimple on his cheek. "Tuesdays aren't usually my busy days."

"O-oh," she squeaked, not liking—in hindsight, loving – the sheen in his eyes. Stuck with the head of the mop in her hand, she could think of absolutely nothing to say. She didn't really understand why. It wasn't like she was caught doing anything out of the usual –

Oh, Holy.

She'd been cleaning, quite vigorously, and she had been mumbling hadn't she?

Damn, damn, damn.

"How long have you been here?" she said, voice already having the hints of accusation.

His lips pulled back slightly over his teeth, forming a deeper smile and, by Gaia, it was close to animalistic. Seeing as he was caught, he merely gave a shrug.

"Long enough."

Oh, of course. That classic line they say every time after they've been asked.

She squinted up at him, feeling her footing become stabilized even after him still smiling like that – ah, Tifa loved the quick rebounds she had. Hung up on him she may be, but she could still think for herself, at least.

"Don't pull that crap with me, Strife."

He shrugged again. "What do you want me to say, Lockhart?" he mocked, taking a step forward.

She grimaced at his teasing, though she'd never, ever admit how overwhelmingly hot it was.

"How long have you been here?" she repeated, slower and more strained.

He quirked an eyebrow at her flushed cheeks, catching her straight in the eye when he said, "Long enough to enjoy what I see."

And there he went again, all smart-ass and cocky and – who the hell was this guy?

Tifa froze for a second, then snarked, "If you enjoy it so much, why not do something about it?"

Cloud gave a pause at her words, and his lion smile twitched down.

Tifa hid a grin at his lack of words, smirking instead. Not being able to help herself, she let loose, "What is it, Strife? Cat got your tongue?" She took a few steps forward, a teasing step, then a dominating one. "Or…" she said, leaning forward. "Do you not have the balls for it?"

Usually, Tifa would never be so crass, but these past few days, (weeks, months…) well, anything was fair game – balls and pride included.

What she didn't expect - well she should have, really - was for Cloud to calmly take the last remaining steps in between them, retaining that same damn sexy swagger, though there was something different now. His shoulders weren't as straight, his eyes clouded with an indiscernible expression. If Tifa were to describe it, it was a stance completely male and completely, almost blatantly, feral.

She swallowed, hands jittery, cradling the tip of the mop stick with fidgety fingers. Cloud's gloved hand reached up and loosened them off the mop, letting it clatter to the ground in an echoing tumult of discord. He didn't seem to hear it, with his attention so focused.

He let go of her hands and reached for her hips, digging his fingers into her and grazing the bone. She refrained from gasping, breathing, or heaven forbid, moaning.

Then he straightforwardly pulled and tugged her hips to align with his. Her back found the wall behind them, adding a hint of angle, giving Cloud the barest of looming inches on her and she felt very, very, very –

Wanna have se –

"I have a lot more," he breathed, "than just balls."

Tifa, who thought she was stubborn and pretty headstrong, fell flat. This tank top was much to thin and these shorts were much too short, and oh dear, they amplified her attention to everything. She inhaled sharply, and it was strangled.

But he had been rubbing off on her, after all. Cloud, having the final word?

Please.

She looked up to him through her lashes, arched a little more, raised a brow..

"Prove it."

But she thought maybe it was a good thing she never got over him because.. Oh, the days.

Nights didn't stand a chance.

a/n; it seems whenever i write these two, it's all about SEX BABY.
hope y'all enjoyed it!