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[Tifa -

Had to make a delivery in Junon. I'll be back in a couple of days.

- Cloud

In actuality, there was no delivery. Any amount of light investigation could have uncovered that truth. He knew it was a flimsy excuse, knew it wouldn't exactly cover all of his tracks. But it was the best he could come up with on the spur of the moment - and the spur of the moment for him, it turned out, had been when he was already outside, double checking that everything was packed and secure and that he had enough fuel to make the trip he actually planned on. Surely even a poorly thought out excuse was better than no explanation at all.

Highly unlikely, of course, considering just who the excuse had been made to. It had been four days since he had left. Four days of not answering his phone, of dodging each and every possible attempt at contact. And he was fully intent on waltzing back in as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't pulled the same disappearing act he had performed so many times in the past.

His mind might have been clearer, his thoughts and feelings finally aligning in the way he wanted them to. But at what cost? Some day, probably soon, she was going to get tired of him leaving. She was going to get so tired of it, in fact, that she wouldn't be waiting for him when he returned.]

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[Multiple times, in fact. And it had always ended in the same way, with him giving some flimsy excuse for a promise that it wouldn't happen anymore, that he would stop running when the weight that rested upon his shoulders finally became to much. That he would allow her to help him carry it, that he would let her in. That they would deal with things together, as a family.]

Between us. [Fingers slipped away, coming to rest gently atop her hips, intent on keeping her close but still allowing a certain amount of comfortable space to remain between them.]

[Oh.

She studies him, her eyes meeting his, desperately trying to read his expression as she ignores the way her heart is fluttering. He knows how she feels about him, doesn't he? She's certain she's made it clear, even if she's never come right out and said it. So maybe...]

What do you want to be different?

[Suddenly, she's nervous. What if she's being too optimistic about this? It could mean something entirely different. Realistically, she has no idea what he's thinking.]

Everything.

[The word fell from his lips so easily, pushing past all of his defenses and releasing into the air around them, hanging there like an anchor.]

[She lets out a breath, struck silent for a moment by the force in his voice. Words always seem to fail her around him, but, if he's saying what she thinks he is...

Hesitantly, she reaches up to brush her fingertips along his jawline. There's a part of her that's afraid that if she tries to answer, she'll say something wrong. This moment feels oddly fragile, like she could ruin it if she isn't careful.]

[Breath catches painfully in his throat, burning a searing path downwards towards his lungs, near the place where his heart beats wildly, chest twisting and releasing and twisting again. Everything within him aches, every inch of his soul screaming at him to push onward, to keep going and to never look back. To stop questioning, to stop thinking about the how's and why's and what's and to simply do.

Everything stilled in the next moment, the racing of his mind halting and the pounding of his heart quieting. Leather clad fingers ghosted over the warmth of her skin, dragging along the line of her jaw and tracing over the lines of her mouth.

And then everything was shattering, breaking apart and reforming as his lips pressed into hers, eyes falling closed and heart falling open.]

[Tifa is very still as his fingertips brush over her lips, her own breathing quickening as she waits, tense with nervousness and anticipation. She's suddenly very aware of their proximity in a way she wasn't before, aware of how close they are. She can't seem to tear her eyes from his, that bright, beautiful blue. Before she can gather her thoughts, before she can even really react, he closes the distance between them and kisses her.

Elation makes her head swim and her heart sing, and it takes no thought at all to kiss him back, leaning into him and letting her fingers slip into the spiky locks of hair at the back of his neck. For once, she's far too caught up in the moment to worry about what it might mean, or how things will change, or how they might not.]

[And then she was leaning against him, into him, worn fingers tangling in the thick strands of hair at the base of his skull. Everything, all of the worry, all of the doubt, all of the hesitation falls away as his affections are reciprocated, confidence and courage rising up to take their places.

Fingers slip backwards, cupping her jaw and caressing the sensitive skin just below her ear, each touch feather light and teasing. Even as he shifts, moving against her, easing them into something deeper and more profound, showing her just how much truth had been behind his words.]

[Those light touches make her breathing catch, and even despite the exhilaration and slight nerves, she finds herself relaxing into him. For as many times as she'd thought about kissing him, and overthought it, and argued with herself for or against it... This feels natural. Comfortable. He's her best friend, and even if she hasn't voiced it, she's been in love with him for years.

Tifa makes a soft, pleased sound as he shifts against her, her hand trailing down his back. Whatever doubts she'd had before about how much he cared about her, or if he really wanted to be with them at all have melted away, replaced with the certainty that they're going to be fine. Everything will be alright.]

[His chest tightened and his heart skipped a beat as she relaxed against him, as her hand trailed down over the expanse of his back. Whatever thoughts or ideas he may have had for this exact moment, nothing ever could have prepared him for the reality. For what it feel like to finally close the distance between them, to connect with her in a way he had never quite dared to before.

Lungs burned with the need for breath, forcing him to break that long await contact, eyes fluttering rapidly behind closed lids. Something told him that this was probably the part where he should say something, give her some sort of explanation, but he had the distinct impression that words weren't actually needed.]

[She's breathless when he pulls away, her heart hammering in her chest. Still longing for that contact, she rests her forehead against his, smiling as their noses bump together lightly.

He doesn't need to say anything. This has explained his feelings far better than words ever could, and she both knows they struggle with saying these things, anyway. She's perfectly content to just stay here, her arms wrapped around him and her eyes closed, and savor this moment for as long as she can. One hand slips up to his hair again, combing through the short locks of hair at the back of his neck softly. This, she thinks, is all she ever really needed.]

[Sharp white teeth sink into the full expanse of his bottom lip as those fingers move through his hair, settling against the nape of his neck, making him wonder which one he wants to lean into most; the touch of her forehead as it rest against his, or the touch of her fingers as they tangle into his hair.

Blond lashes flutter open, revealing ocean blue eyes, their glow far more apparent in the dim lighting and with the sudden close proximity. Had he ever been quite this close to her? Quite this close to everything she was and everything she could offer him if only he would choose to accept it?

She was breathe and air and home and comfort and everything he had ever wanted but had never thought he'd actually have again after everything that had happened, after everything that had taken place. Yet there she was, the only constant that had remained in his life through it all.

And she deserved so much better than him and what he could offer her in return.]

[Her heartbeat has started to steady as she relaxes, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. She opens her eyes, finally, only to notice him biting his lip. This close, it's hard to get a good read on his expression, but she knows him well enough that the simple movement is enough of a tell. He's... Thinking about something, at least. Worrying? Maybe there's something wrong, or something he's unsure of.

Tifa has always tried to be there if he needs her, whether that means listening to him or simply sharing comfortable silence. Admittedly, his track record with opening up to her hasn't been impressive lately, but this is a huge step forward, and she isn't going to push him, or jar him out of his thoughts. It means that whatever doubts or concerns she finds sneaking back in are quickly pushed back down as she stays quiet, simply focusing on continuing to smooth his hair down gently. The motion turns into something more soothing and repetitive as those spikes stubbornly refuse to stay put.]

[Those fingers are like magic, soothing out the rough and tumble edges of his frayed nerves and bringing him back into center, allowing him to sink into the warmth of the moment and leave whatever doubts may have haunted him behind. She was there, with him, against him, so much closer than she had ever been, so much closer than they had ever been. How could he come so far, come to the pinnacle of decision only to send them both tumbling the other way? Would fate ever allow for another chance, another moment in time to finally end the long nights spent wondering within his own mind of what was right and wrong.

He wasn't nearly good enough for her. He never had been and likely never would be. It was a thought that had taken him from her so many times, that had caused him to step back each time she stepped forward, each time she got too close.

He didn't want to see her get hurt, didn't want to see her suffer the way other's before her had. But in return, all he had caused were for those very things he had tried to avoid to take place.

Fingers flex against the swell of her hips, once, twice, before they're sliding upwards, slipping around her and bringing them impossibly closer. There's a sharp intake of breath, lips parting with the inhale as his nose bumps against hers, the movement teasing and playfully in a way the previous contact hadn't been.

If he was going to do it, he was going to do it entirely. No holding back, no second thoughts.]

[The relief is obvious in her features when she notices him relaxing. Their hips bump together as he pulls her closer, but something about the intimacy of it is tempered by the way his nose brushes against hers, and she finds herself laughing softly. This is all she ever wanted, really, to be sure about his feelings for her. He doesn't have to put a name to it, or say it in words; just knowing that he wants to be here and wants to be here with them, with her, is more than enough.

She hesitates just for an instant before closing that tiny gap between them to press her lips against his again, soft and brief, because it's still unbelievable that he might want her to.]

Can you stay for a while?

[Her voice is quiet, the words just for him. She never really knows his schedule, or if he's staying for a few hours or a few days. As much as she doesn't mind his deliveries, having him leave so quickly after this would be disappointing.]

[It takes a long moment for her words to sink in, for them to twist around within his mind and begin to make sense. In truth, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to stay with her, than to attempt to make up for everything that had been lost, had been put off by his own poor decisions. To stay there, contained within that moment when everything seemed so right, so real and good and whole and everything he'd ever wanted but had kept himself from for so long.

There's a soft sound, forced outwards on a breath, a gentle confirmation before his head's tilting forward, before his eyes are slipping closed and his lips are connecting with hers. Before slender fingers are slipping into thick locks, lifting it back and away, pouring each ounce of silent confirmation into the pressure of their connections. All silent serenity and quiet, desperate longing.]

[His confirmation is all it takes to start up that fluttering in her stomach again, and then he kisses her too quickly for her to respond. There's an intensity to it this time, one she's more than happy to match as she presses herself flush against him, her grip on his hair tightening unintentionally. It suddenly seems ridiculous that they would wait this long to be honest with each other. For all the time she's felt silly about dancing around the topic, for just not telling him, it seems especially stupid now. What a waste of time. But they can make up for that now, she hopes. Right?]

[Everything else falls away, every doubt and every hesitation, giving way to something deeper, something more intense and desirable. Those fingers tighten with his hair, drawing a strangled sound from somewhere within his chest, rising painfully into his throat and falling from parted lips, urging him to angle into that touch. To press inwards against the long, lean line of her body, to begin to ease her backwards, each step slow and measured.]

[Her breathing catches at that sound, her heart beginning to race in earnest, and she's more than happy to let him guide her back as he presses into her. She's careful to move slowly, not willing to break such close contact just yet as she trails her free hand down his arm, fingers brushing lightly against his skin.]

[Every second seems to stretch into the span of a minute, each minute taking the shape of an hour until time it's self appears to have stopped, leaving suspended in limbo, trapped within this moment. Tendrils of heat begin to dance along the length of his spine, tiny little electric shocks sparking along his skin originating from her fingers and dancing upwards. Another step forward, another pause to deepen the kiss further, tongue teasing skimming along the seam formed by her lips, silently seeking admittance.]

[Her lips part willingly and she deepens the kiss, following his urging and taking another slow, careful step backwards. At any other time, she might question what they're doing, where this is going, but the press of his body against hers is making it hard to think beyond slipping her hand upward again, fingers tightening on his bicep.]

[It's easy to ignore that voice screaming within the back of his mind, speaking in rapid sentences, stating all of the reasons why they shouldn't, why they should stop. Why this wasn't right, why it was moving far too fast. Why they should slow down and think before something happened that could never unhappen and they both ended up regretting it.

But they had spent so much time thinking and overthinking and wondering and waiting and if they stopped now, when they had finally come so far, it was difficult to know if they would ever come back to this moment. If they took those drastic steps backwards, would they ever regain the ground they had covered?

Another slow, measured step, another brush of his tongue over her own, another heart beat and another breath filled with nothing but this moment. It was only when he finally felt the solid structure of the bar bump against her lower back that he paused, teeth nipping gently into a full bottom lip before releasing, breaking away and taking in much needed air.]

Does that answer your question?

[She starts slightly when she feels the small of her back hit the edge of the counter, and tightens her grip on him to steady herself when his teeth scrape against her lip. He's making it blissfully hard to focus, and when he pulls away, she finds herself fighting disappointment even as struggles to catch her breath.]

Yes.

[There's something exhilarating about the fact that he seems just as breathless as she is, that he still hasn't fully pulled away. She runs her fingers through his hair again as she tries to gather her thoughts.]

Why did you...

[She hesitates, fingertips tracing along his jawline.]

What made you decide?

[There's a soft sort of sound that rises within his throat, struggling to escape even as he attempts to mute it, teeth sinking into the slightly swollen expanse of his lower lip until it falters and fades. Everything within him wants to dive back in to her, wants to press back against her and continue on from where they had broken apart, wants to rapidly move forward down this path they've chosen.

But those words form a question, one that deserves an answer, one that gives him pause and causes him to think. What had finally tipped the scales of his indecision? What had been the final push past his feelings of inadequacy, of the knowledge that he wasn't nearly good enough for her? What had made him decide to leave, to attempt to get those tricky emotions and tangled thoughts unwound and straightened?

He didn't want to lose her. He had lost so much already in this life, far more than any one person should ever have to suffer through. To know that she had slipped away due to his own faults, his own inability to be truthful, to be honest and accept her, all of her and everything she offered would be more than he could bear. To know that he was the sole reason for her departure from his life, that she had finally been pushed too far, past the breaking point and could no longer wait for him to make a choice.

A choice he should have made long ago. He never should have made her wait, should have left her there to wonder.]

I guess I got tired of running. [The words are forced forwards with an outwards breath as he leans forward, forehead coming to rest gently against hers, deep electric blue remaining open and searching.]

[She's spent so long going back and forth on whether or not he has any feelings for her. Lately, her answer to herself more and more has been no, largely because sometimes it didn't seem like he wanted to be here at all. But the idea that he was running... It makes sense, even if she's not completely sure what he was running from.

That can wait though, she thinks. She's too happy right now to worry, and sick of overthinking this, so she lets her hands fall to his hips. Tifa dips her head to press a kiss against his neck, her voice quiet and her lips brushing against his skin as she responds.]

I'm glad. Welcome home.

Edited 2016-04-09 05:00 (UTC)

[If every homecoming was going to be exactly like this one, then he would have all of the incentive he would ever need to continue returning to her. To start switching his thinking, to trying to find ways to come back sooner rather than how to stay way. To begin to realize that he had something good and warm and wonderful waiting for him, something welcoming, something that made him feel as if he finally belonged.

Fingers trail upwards, ghosting over the soft skin of her check before slipping backwards, pushing thick strands of dark hair so it became securely tucked behind her ear.]

Yeah. I am home.

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