WriterZilch (writerzilch) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2007-09-29 17:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: writerzilch, f: final fantasy vii, p: rude/tifa, september 29 |
[fic] "Drinking Alone", FFVII (Rude/Tifa)
Title: Drinking Alone
Author: writerzilch
Rating: PG
Warnings: None! Worksafe.
Summary: She keeps her eye on him, but unlike his explosive partner, Rude's not much for starting trouble.
A/N: This prompt could've been so much naughtier, but for some reason I went for tension instead. :\
Rude is turning into a regular down at the Seventh Heaven, and Tifa's not so sure how she feels about that.
She keeps her eye on him, but unlike his explosive partner, Rude's not much for starting trouble. He drinks alone at a table in the corner and he watches her right back, unabashed.
It's a little bit nerve-wracking, especially when she has to turn her back on him. She can still feel his eyes, like a warm sort of weight on her skin.
On the nights Cloud is around, Rude will down a beer and leave early. But when it's just Tifa he'll stay til midnight or later, taking his time with a glass of good whiskey. He never gets drunk. Tifa is beginning to suspect that he isn't coming for the alcohol.
Tifa finally gets fed up when he comes in, has one shot of tequila, and then nurses a soda for the rest of the night.
"Closing time," she says, reaching up to flick off the "open" sign. The bar is mostly empty; if not for Rude, she'd have closed half an hour ago. She goes to collect his empty glass, feeling oddly nervous, far too aware that they're alone.
The tip on the table is four times what he's spent tonight. Tifa stares at it for a second, feeling unaccountably angry. Finally she turns to him. "Rude. What is it you want?"
He doesn't answer, not with words. But when he slides those dark shades off his nose and just looks at her plainly, Tifa understands, or thinks she does. When he reaches out to caress her arm-- light, barely even touching, leather gloves skin-warm and soft--
Tifa takes a step back. Her heart is pounding. Rude just looks at her, at all of her, gaze sliding from her face to her body in a progression she swears she can feel. The moment feels taut, unreal, and for just a second Tifa wonders what it would be like, imagines his touch and his mouth, the cool metal of his piercings and the warmth of his skin.
"You," she says. She swallows and tries again. "You should go."
Rude nods, slowly. The glasses slide back on, and she can almost see it, the moment where he becomes a Turk again. She hadn't realized there was even a difference between Rude the Turk and just plain Rude.
He pauses at the door, turning around to offer her a smile, small and guarded and completely unexpected. "See you tomorrow night, Tifa."
"Yeah," she murmurs, as the door swings closed. "See you."
It's going to take her at least til then to convince herself to say "no".