As the author, I must apologize right here and now. I've never written for the FFVII fandom, but...I guess I just had to debut with this.

I'm so, so sorry.

Cloud Does the Laundry

It was the least he could do, he decided. Tifa and the kids had been so good to him upon his return, and now that things had settled down and he was on a small vacation from deliveries, he had the energy and desire to do some chores.

If anything, it would give Tifa a bit of a break. She had her hands full trying to take care of the bar. It was oddly busy today.

So, he cleaned a little, and dusted. And he gathered the laundry into the basket and trudged down to the bottom floor, and into the garage where he kept his Fenrir. He unceremoniously dropped the basketful of clothes onto the ground and opened the washing machine.

It was simple. Turn the knob, push down to let the water rush in, pour in the soap, reach out for the clothes. It all came naturally to him. He rarely did chores, but he remember how to. He wasn't a baby; Tifa didn't have to do everything for him...Oh.

Halfway through the pile, Cloud stared down at the contents of the basket, the rushing water a mere backdrop to the scene as he blinked, almost uncomfortable and unsure.

...Tifa's bra.

He'd handled her underwear before. That, he was both ashamed and proud of. And he was certain that she knew it as well.

But this was Tifa's bra. And her cup size was...g-generous...

I-It wasn't that he was the one who noticed it all the time! It was the other men who were staring at her from across the bar as she spoke, ignoring those beautiful, wine-colored eyes and eyes roving over that ample bosom that bulged out when she crossed her arms and leaned over the counter. And when she turned or fought or jumped into the air in a mighty somersault, they bounced beautiful, slowly, almost breathtakingly, suspended in the air, before dropping down to jiggle with each sway of her hips and...

...Yeah, Cloud wasn't the one who noticed. Really.

He cleared his throat, not even noticing that the washing machine stopped spitting out water and sat still. He hadn't moved. He just...stared at the bra.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen it either. Of course it was an accident! Really! And he hadn't let the memory of stepping into her room at the wrong time as she was hooking the bra onto her body with her back facing him linger for months on end! He didn't recall the way the light from the window bounced off her sexy curves, her bra and panties - oh god, that lace - clinging to her skin just the way he'd dreamed - not that he dreamed it, that's just a figure of speech!

...She hadn't noticed him staring then. He merely stepped away from the door and ran off to his room, heart pounding, eyes twitching, fingers clenching, the image of her fine form and those hips and that waist and that ass and tits...

"...Cloud? You're gonna break Tifa's boob-holders."

And just like that, the fire burning through Cloud's veins ran cold as he jumped, dropping the bra back into the basket, turning a pale face toward Marlene.

She pouted and stared at him accusingly. "Don't break those! Tifa says they're expensive when they're pretty!"

"B-Boo-whatdidyoucallthem?" For the first time in a long time, Cloud was back in touch with the awkward teenager he used to be.

"Yuffie called them boob-holders! Since...they hold Tifa's boobs! Right?"

It didn't take long for the blood to rush to Cloud's face. He dipped down to grip the basket - and oh god, why were his pants so uncomfortable now - and tipped it over the top of the washing machine, letting the clothes splatter into the water. Without another word, he dropped the basket and high-tailed it out of there. He...He needed to be alone.

Marlene sighed and shook her head, stepping toward the washing machine to finish the job. "I have to do everything here, don't I?"