Aware (FFVII yaoi, Tseng/Cloud Dark #30 Smile) Title:Aware Fandom: FFVII Pairing: Tseng/Cloud Theme set and #: Dark Theme, #30 Smile. Disclaimer: Don’t own. Rating: PG Summary:Aware - an emotion of tender affection in which there is both passion and sympathy... in such moments the sentiment is instinctively felt, for in them joy mingles with a kind of agreeable melancholy. (Anesaki, 65) Author’s notes: Sequel to Beholder. Word count: 1582
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It’s such a lazy night, at least for you. Tifa’s been out of her wits with work and asked you to help her. When compared to killing monsters, waiting tables is like a walk in the park, especially now that the work is cut to two.
You’re just in the middle of juggling your way to the tables number fourteen, fifteen and sixteen, since it’s about twenty people group that’s taken up a corner and are celebrating a birthday of one cute girl, with very long and very curly hair. She’s barely old enough to drink but is pouring down beer like any veteran; just one of the leftovers from the slums.
Then something happens. It’s not something big and obvious, but a series of barely noticeable things like the circular spreading of a moment of silence originating from the door, the sound of the same groups of muscles being used, the eyes glancing in one specific direction and, of course, the easy slightly drunken atmosphere turning to sharp attention for just a second.
Turks.
Even though they’re not supposed to be the enemy now, some habits die hard; especially for those from the slums and, you know it from experience, that’s most of your guests.
You look towards the entrance and there’s two of them – the typical dark blue suits, black shades and leather gloves. Your heart skips a beat as you realize who one of those emotionless faces belongs to.
He scans the area and, as he spots you, his lips spread into a little smile and he nods, taking the glasses off. You don’t get the chance to respond back as he turns towards his bald partner and says something to which Rude nods. Then they start their way through overcrowded tables, never having any trouble in finding enough empty space before them to slip through.
Even as they reach the counter, two empty stools appear before them. You look towards Tifa on the opposite side of the room and she mimics for you to go see to them, all serious and confused as to why the two of them came.
You walk back to the bar, now having even less of a problem getting through the crowd paying attention to their surroundings this time. You leave the empty glasses in the sink and finally look at them. Tseng is smiling and Rude is as unreadable as ever.
“What can I get you?” you ask, still not sure whether you should wash the glasses or perhaps try and find out why they’re here.
“Beer,” Rude answers, not bothering to speak loudly as his deep voice passes through the murmur no matter what.
“Just tea,” Tseng says with a smile and Rude snorts.
You notice Tifa appear behind you, turns the water on and pushes you away from the sink, towards the two customers.
“I’m sorry, it’s happy hour,” you respond after eyeing Tifa for being that obvious (she and her curiosity will be the death of you, you just know it).
Tseng blinks. “I’m sorry?”
You take a tall glass and pull the keg handle, eyes on the forming foam. “Nothing but alcohol.”
“But you can get tea with rum,” you hear Tifa say, smiling, hands in the foam and running water. Your heart skips a beat.
You put the beer before Rude and force a small smile, still avoiding eye contact with Tseng, hoping you don’t do something stupid.
“I can live with that, sure,” he says and your eyes, obviously not listening to you anymore, travel to connect with his even more smiling face. It’s painful how beautiful he is.
You look down again, hoping he’s not seeing the fact that you’re behaving like a blushing maiden.
“Give the man his tea!” Tifa nudges you, wiping her hands dry. You nod and try to say something but her eyes get lost in the crowd and she takes her notebook and quickly leaves towards the tables.
You start looking around, all of a sudden having no idea where the damned tea is supposed to be, then you spot it on that weird looking wire shelf thing Denzel made for Tifa a few months back.
“Green?” you ask, not looking at him, but he doesn’t hear you so you have to turn around and repeat what you just said, louder.
He raises his eyebrows, smiles and nods and you concentrate on pouring the hot water into a cup. You put the teabag in, cover it with a saucer and place one of those thin tall glasses for strong beverages on it, those you used to think were so pretty when you were a kid and everything seemed so simple.
You put it before him and he accepts it with a smile, brings his hands to pull it towards himself and your fingers accidentally brush. It makes the tips of your ears burn and you quickly pull away, eyes travelling around to find some work, and you can’t seem understand why there’s none in a full bar during happy hour.
“Came to thank you,” Tseng says, gets your attention, though you pretend you don’t hear him. “I say I came to thank you,” he repeats loudly and even Tifa, who is back at the counter with dirty glasses and new orders, hears him.
“It’s nothing…” you start, shake your head. “Nevermind.” You look down, wonder if you’re fast enough to disappear without them seeing where you went.
He places his lips over the thin glass, the gesture surprisingly obscene for your brain, then tilts his head back and lets the rum slide down his throat. With one swift move, he hits the glass to the counter and exhales, alcohol burning his throat.
“Well, I don’t consider my life as ‘nothing’,” he says, voice a tad rusty due to his drink.
Tifa nudges you again, nods towards the rum bottle and you go and pick it up to pour him another.
“If there’s anything I can do to repay you for saving my life…”
“He usually charges it one date,” Tifa interrupts, means it like a joke, but it shocks you enough to spill the glass and brown rum all over his lap.
Good thing Rude laughs enough to spray his beer all over the counter; at least you’re not the only one making a fool of yourself.
He says something on a language you don’t normally understand, but Yuffie has been kind enough to share a few words and ‘shit’ happens to be one of them. Then he jumps off the stool and rushes into the men’s room.
Tifa rolls her eyes, wipes both the beer and the rum off the wooden surface, then throws a bottle of dish detergent at you with “Go help the poor man.”
By now you’re certain this is actually a dream, even though it hurt to pinch yourself for six times in a row.
You enter the men’s room reluctantly, then feel like you’ve died as you see him half naked before the sink, washing the brown stain off his white shirt, the suit jacket and the undershirt left over the sink left of him.
“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, force your eyes away from him and hand him the plastic bottle.
He shakes his head. “No use. I think it’s ruined,” he says and you feel your shoulders droop and try to think of an apology good enough.
“I’m sorry.”
He chuckles and looks up from the ruined shirt, towards you. “Shirt for a life. I think I’ll live with that bargain,” he says and it makes you laugh, the joke he didn’t mean to make.
He looks at you strangely and you shrug. “Life… live… it was funny,” you say, defensively even, but he doesn’t seem to get it.
He turns the water off, squeezes the shirt some more, then pauses and laughs loudly, his reaction startling you. It makes you smile seeing that beautiful face laugh. Seems so natural on him and you wonder why he never does it.
“So…” he starts, pulls you out of your musings about all those ways you’d like to see him laugh. He leaves the wet shirt hanging on the sink and pulls the jacket on, zips it. You feel a tint of disappointment but try not to show it. “One date?” he asks and you, again, just want to disappear.
“That’s…” you start but it’s not like you have a good defence. “You don’t have to…”
You hear him laugh again and you close your eyes, liking to imagine different situations in which he’d make that sound.
“Look,” he says, all serious again. “I know the price of potions nowadays and, I’m sorry, but I don’t have that kind of money to pay you back. I’d at least buy you a drink, but since you live in a bar,” he pauses and smiles again. You really love his smiles. “I can at least buy you dinner sometimes.”
“You really don’t have to,” you start but his headshake stops you.
“But I want to. So, when are you free?”
“Now,” you blurt out and, before even realizing what you just said, he laughs again.
“Deal,” he says and nods. “I know this place that serves food all night long.”
“But what about Rude?”
“Well, he’ll just have to stay all alone in Tifa’s bar, getting drunk without his shirt,” he answers with a chuckle and you can’t stop the smile that appears on your lips.