Learning to Live

Author's Note: You guys are amazing. Thanks for not giving up on this story and for leaving such wonderful reviews. Truly, you folks deserve medals for putting up with our wishywashy'ness. BUT! Without any more gilding the lily, have some more Tifa and Vincent. :)



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Vincent:

Vincent was sure his ears were on fire. Where had that question come from? He downed the toast quickly, clearing his throat before reaching for the bottle of scotch.



Pouring another, he answered truthfully, "I don't believe so, no." Daring a glance to his right, he groaned as his sight line encountered the sweet swell of her breasts. Mother and Planet. It was such a damning thought, her sliding over just enough, then slipping slowly down into his lap, all the better for him to fall so very deeply into her.



Vincent's grip on the bottle tightened and he forced himself to release it before it shattered. Swallowing half of his second, he leaned back in his chair and appraised her thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"



Tifa:

She shrugged. "Thought you might want to. I've got some rum cream in the cabinet," she replied conversationally before sipping her drink, staring into the glass.



Truthfully, the question had been a curiosity that came out of the blue. He'd been to bars before, so wouldn't he have had the chance? Knowing he hadn't, however, gave her a bit of a thrill, so much that it was impossible not to put the invitation out there. She watched him work on his third glass, a small grin tightening over her teeth.



"Well, unless you wanted to get right back to that dishwasher…"



Vincent:

One of Vincent's eyebrows slowly rose. "Rum cream…sounds delightful." Valentine crossed arms over his chest, still leaning back comfortably in his chair. The barest hint of a smile began to curve his mouth.



"The directions are a soggy mess. We'll have to let them dry out before we make another attempt…"



Tifa:

Tifa emptied her glass, but rather than get up, leaned backward, arching as her shoulders cleared the other side of the bar, letting her reach around under the cabinet. She felt around for a minute, giving him a view of her upturned breasts beneath her damp white shirt.



"Mmf, can you get the limes? There are some sliced ones in the fridge, third shelf. Salt is on the counter."



A moment later when he sat back down, she held up the bottle and swung one leg over his head as she scooted over. Still sitting atop the bar, yet now with knees against his sides, she wiggled to lay with her back against the solid wood. Pulling up the hem of her shirt to just under her midriff, she pulled the top off the bottle and paused with a siren's smile.



"Belly button or breasts?"



Vincent:

He fetched the items without comment, but nearly choked as he returned to his seat only to have her slide over in front of him, her knees resting against his ribs. Vincent's mouth went dangerously dry as Tifa leaned back atop the bar, giving him a rather enticing view.



I am not this weak…I am not this weak…I am not this weak… Only by repeating that fervent mantra was he able to stand and gaze down at her with a lifted eyebrow. Reaching for a lime slice, he gently trailed it over her stomach, pausing as it reached her navel.



Tilting his head, he answered, "Oh…right about here, to start."



Tifa:

This was dangerous. The bar was closed, but Cloud could come home earlier than expected. Tifa found she didn't care, drizzling the rum cream into her navel before licking one finger and dipping it in the salt, extending it to him.



"Drink up," she whispered, gaze seductive even with the color tinting her cheeks. Vincent Valentine is about to take a shot off my belly, she thought with a heady rush of excitement.



Vincent:

She only had to invite once. Vincent closed his eyes and stepped right off the cliff of damnation. Leaning over her, he took her hand and guided the salted finger to his mouth, slowly inserting it between his lips. He licked her finger, running his tongue slowly over her skin, tasting the bitterness of the salt. Releasing her hand, he bent his dark head to her stomach, long damp hair trailing over her dusky skin, and carefully licked the alcohol pooled in the small indention. It mixed with the salt on his tongue and he swallowed, the heady taste zeroing straight to his brain. But he wasn't finished.



Parting his lips, he pressed his open mouth to her skin, further lapping and licking the booze clean, making sure to get every single drop sweetened by warm smooth flesh. Yet he just couldn't stop there! Stepping further between her thighs, Vincent nuzzled and licked his way up her stomach, carefully nuzzling the hem of her shirt where it bunched under her breasts.



Lime slice in one hand, he deftly peeled up her wet t-shirt with the other and trailed the sticky fruit along the valley of her cleavage, making sure to squeeze and let the juice drip onto her skin. He tossed the crushed thing away and bent his head again, wet agile tongue sweeping the path he'd just made, groaning deep in his chest at the flavors assaulting his tongue. He cleaned her thoroughly, gently nipping for more when done. Nose still buried between her breasts, Valentine placed a soft kiss against the swell of the right before lifting dark mischievous eyes to twinkle at her.



"Mm, delicious…"



Tifa:

The name of the bar had little to do with the type of heaven Tifa was in as that wonderful tongue lapped its way up her body. She gasped and arched when his lips and tongue followed the sour-sweet trail he'd left with the fruit, right between the generous mounds of her breasts. By the time he finished with a kiss, her breath was shallow and a flush crept up her neck.



"Mmm…" she sighed, one hand tangling fingers in his hair as she rubbed the back of his thigh with the bare calf of one toned, slender leg. Her other hand reached for the bottle. "You want another round? Or is it my turn?" she asked, voice breathy and sultry as she gazed up at him from beneath long black lashes.



Vincent:

A slow sultry chuckle rumbled from somewhere around the vicinity of her chest as Vincent lifted his head and stared down at her, red eyes dark. Lithe fingers skimmed down her leg, curling around her knee to lift it a tad higher against his waist.



"We should play fair, Tifa," he told her with a half-smile. "You may have a turn, if you like." He stepped back as she leaned up and haphazardly straightened her shirt, letting his hands regretfully return to his sides. One black eyebrow arched. "Although I must confess a bit of curiosity as to how you plan to do it…"



Tifa:

She grinned, nearly predatory, and hopped off the bar, bottle still in hand. "Lay on the bar." When he did as commanded, lifting himself with his hands and swinging those long legs onto the top of the bar, propped on his elbows, Tifa deftly unbuttoned his shirt, still using just one hand. She took a lime a held it to his lips until he took it between his teeth.



"You hold onto this for me," she whispered, then leaned down to lick one flat nipple that stood out against his albino-pale skin. Leaving the tiny bud tightening under the mix of cool air and saliva, she sprinkled salt there and quickly licked it up, suckling for a moment and softly sighing at the flavor of his skin somewhere beneath the tang of salt. Dark eyes that had drifted closed opened again as she drizzled the rum between firm pectorals, the drops slowly trailing down his belly between chiseled abs, all the way to his navel. With another spill there to fill it overflowing, Tifa set the bottle down and quickly set to work, catching the drops before they could wander far, the salt still strong in her mouth.



Full lips opened to suck on his skin, tongue sweeping this way and that to leave nothing but slightly-reddened marks behind. Deliberately, she let a drop wander too far down and had to unbutton his jeans to get it all, bent over him as she had been some time ago in his bedroom, doing a much naughtier deed. She stopped herself from going farther down and slowly licked and caressed her way up his tummy, until all the alcohol was gone.



Breasts dragging against his chest, she at last sucked the lime as it was held between his teeth, flicking his lips with her tongue now and then, all the while staring boldly into his eyes. "That was delicious…" she breathed when her mouth could finally be pried away.



Vincent:

Vincent blinked but did as commanded, swinging atop the bar. He felt a tad foolish as Tifa all but shoved the lime wedge between his teeth, but he groaned and bit into the thing as her agile tongue went to work. Valentine hissed a breath at the contrasting coolness of the rum mixed with Tifa's warm sweet tongue, but he did well to lie there and take it, rather than jerk her up and haul her upstairs. Skittish muscles contracted under her ministrations and his fingers clenched spasmodically, but Vincent sternly reprimanded himself to exert a bit more control than that.



Lowering his head to the countertop, Vincent closed his eyes and just zeroed in on feeling her, drowning in the tactile sensations she mapped across his torso. He felt her lapping at the rum that slicked his skin, and clenched his teeth harder when she oh-so-innocently dipped below the button of his jeans. Vincent scowled, knowing she was enjoying his torture, but she slithered up his body to fasten her mouth to his, her delectable tongue playing with the lime clenched between his teeth. He met her naughty gaze firmly, brows slightly lowered over smoldering crimson eyes.



She pulled away with a siren's smile and he turned his head to drop the damnable lime, but just as he turned back to her, both of his arms caught her around the waist and yanked her astride his hips, pinning them together as he glared up at her, only centimeters from her breathlessly parted lips. "What did I tell you, Tifa," he grated, shifting just so beneath her, "about …teasing me so…?"



Tifa:

A small moan escaped her as Tifa felt the rock hard length bulging against his slacks and rubbing against her panties. Dear Planet, if this kept up, she might lose yet another pair. Unable to be bothered, she simply rocked slowly atop him, gaze locked onto vermilion eyes as she "teased" him a little more.



"Hmm… I don't remember," she murmured as she grinded in small circles, biting her bottom lip when that rigid mass pressed and rubbed against her clit through dampening cotton. "Tell me again?"



At the backdoor, a certain blond fumbled with his keys, frowning as an older, louder blond male clapped him on the back.



"C'mon Cloud! I swear I'm telling the truth! I found a pair o' knickers just layin' on 'is floor! Now don't get me wrong, I'm glad Vinny's gettin' laid. I just wish he'd unclench his ass enough to admit to the rest of us that he's still that human. Shera worries about 'im somethin' awful, always wondering if he's taking care of himself an' all. Hell, if anyone needs a woman, it's him…"



Cloud rolled his eyes slightly as he unlocked the door and walked in, letting Cid follow. "Don't get me wrong, Cid. I like Vincent, and I agree, it probably wouldn't hurt for him to be closer to people." Planet knew he'd had enough personal experience to prove that no one needed to be completely alone in the world. "But there are some things I just am better off not knowing. Vincent's sex life is definitely one of them…"



The pair walked down the hall, past the utility room and into the main bar.



Vincent:

Just about to roll a decidedly naughty Tifa Lockhart beneath him and give in to baser desires, Vincent Valentine suddenly stiffened and froze in mid-action, wide eyes going distant. Suddenly, sulfurous curses began to whisper from his lips and he grabbed the minx atop him by her arms and rolled them both off the bar onto the floor in one smooth motion.



One finger on her protesting lips, he quietly whispered, "Cloud. And Cid. Pulling up in the back parking lot, Tifa. Hurry." The mess atop the bar veritably disappeared as Vincent cleaned up, tossing the lime wedges, returning the salt to the other counter and shoving the rum bottle back in the fridge. He glanced at Tifa, still straightening her clothes and struggling to move the damnable dishwasher, then heard the back door lock click and the door itself swing open with the pair's conversation.



With eerie swiftness, Valentine hurriedly buttoned his shirt and adjusted his jeans, knowing there was no way in hell he'd be emerging from behind the counter while the other two were present. Scolding himself for giving in, he just went about wiping the floor with a damp cloth, looking for all the world as if the two of them had been working on installing the dishwasher the entire time.



Tifa:

Tifa could not have muttered more curses in the span of thirty seconds if she tried. By the time they heard the door open and both men ambling inside, she had her hair pulled down over the damnably perky state her nipples had gone into (and dammit, her shirt was still damp…) and her skirt yanked down over soggy panties that she just knew were going to be uncomfortable very quickly.



And poor, poor Vincent… she thought, casting a longing gaze at the erection that looked to be shoving his belt out of the way. Wet manual in hand (and praying that the smell of rum and limes didn't linger too strongly) Tifa pretended to be engrossed as Cloud and Cid walked in. "Oh, hey guys!" she looked up, unable to hide the nervousness in her tone.



Cid instantly quirked a brow and walked over to the bar, plopping down. "Just what the hell have you two been doing?"



The tiniest crease formed between Cloud's eyebrows as he looked from one to the other, obviously wondering the same. Oh my gods, he knows! Tifa thought in a panic.



"I… We were just…"



Cid suddenly broke into uncontrollable chuckles. "Don't tell me… you had Sunshine working on the dishwasher…" The chuckles turned into full-blown, knee-slapping guffaws. "He can't set his own watch, let alone install an appliance like that!"



Though visibly relieved for the barest instant, Tifa made a show of frowning. "Well, he's almost got it! We just had… a bit of a spill."



Cid recovered and pulled his cigarettes from his shirt pocket, lighting one for himself before extending the pack to Vincent, surprisingly. Well, it was obvious by the look of the man that he needed one. "No wonder you two look like hell."



Cloud sighed and rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Sorry Teef, I really should've gotten it sooner…"



With as sweet a smile as she could manage while guilt was beating her about the head and shoulders, Tifa brushed off his need to apologize with, "Oh, it's fine, Cloud. You've got to keep business going."



Vincent:

The gunslinger gave the pilot the scowl he deserved, but stood and put aside the damp cloth, gratefully taking the proffered cancer stick. Using Cid's lighter, Vincent inhaled a deep breath of nicotine poison before exhaling, the movement concealing a regretful sigh.



"I can set my watch just fine, thank you," he informed the smirking Cid with quiet dignity. "Precisely why I wear a digital." Sucking down another deadly breath, he withdrew the cigarette before adding, "However, my genius seems to be lacking when it comes to kitchen appliances. That and the fact that my assistant somehow forgot to turn off the water before letting me begin. Hence," he gestured to the floor, "this mess."



Cid snorted. "Yah, right." Turning back to a still flustered Tifa, Cid said, "Don't worry 'bout it, Teef. I'll put 'er together for ya afore I head out."



Cloud picked up the envelope that had somehow migrated to the table and Vincent took that instant to say, "I need to get my suit out of the dryer, Tifa. Would it be all right?"



He gestured in invitation for her to precede him down the hall. He followed her to the laundry room, but sighed as he heard Cid say, no doubt waiting till they were both well out of presumed earshot, "…yo, Cloud, ya think there's somethin' funny goin' on?"



Vincent could just imagine the blank look on the hero's face as he answered, "About what?"



Cid again. "I dunno, but somethin' don't feel 'zactly right with them two."



Cloud: "C'mon, Cid. Tifa wouldn't do that." A pause, then, "It's Vincent, for Gaia's sake. He's way too old. Not to mention anti-social as they come."



Vincent rolled his eyes exasperatedly, turning his attention back to Tifa opening the dryer door and silently cursing his acute hearing. He took a minute to take her hand, eyes on her fingers, and say, "I'm sorry, Tifa. We shouldn't have. It only causes more questions and suspicions…and problems I'd never wish for you."



Tifa:

She looked at their hands, then at his face and the eyes that were too ashamed to meet hers. Why? Because you're both hiding, and it makes this all seem wrong. But wasn't it, just a little? Sex was supposed to come with love and warmth and shared dinners and hand-holding in the park… right? Or was it really all just baser instincts that made more sense if attachment accompanied it? Tifa sighed. She really, truly didn't know. But one thing was for certain.



"Vincent… I don't mind." Her free hand, holding his freshly dried shirt on the last three fingers, took his chin with thumb and forefinger to make him look into her eyes. A small smile curved her lips as she continued.



"What's wrong with it, anyway? I mean… I know it's still really awkward but…" She glanced down shyly on her next words.



"After, well, everything, it's hard for me not to think of you that way." She brushed aside his bangs and chanced to step closer with a whisper. "And I know you can't think of me like you did before, either."



Vincent:

He met her gaze, graced that she would smile at him but inwardly sighed as she stepped nearer. It was so hard to keep his hands to himself! Especially with her so warm, willing, and completely Tifa…Hell.



Vincent swallowed, cleared his throat, then said, "Tifa…I wasn't looking for a relationship…" Brilliant, gunslinger. You just managed to shatter the poor woman's heart. For your next thrillingly idiotic move, pull out your gun and shoot her in the head. "…but…" Gaia, how to say this? He struggled with it. "Tifa, I don't really know how to say it. It is awkward, that's true. Please understand, this is new and strange to me, too. I have no idea where I'm going," he finally confessed.



"The last time I dared attempt to be close with a woman got me killed. Literally." He tossed his shirt aside and took both of her hands in a firm desperate grip. "And you've always been so far out of my reach, Tifa. A light in the darkness. But it's something I can't risk, because I don't want to change it."



The words tumbled from his lips now; frantic fear constricted his chest, making him voice the uncertainty. "When you kissed me, that first time, it shocked me more than you can ever know. And later…I suppose I felt it all just a dream, a beautiful dream I'd been blessed with. But now…it's real. And I know it can't be, because I'm not meant to have it. This life is all I have, Tifa. All I can ever hope for, with my past and memories. I don't dare disrupt that balance."



He finally fell silent, a bit out of breath and more afraid than he'd ever recalled being, standing there looking down at her.



Tifa:

Her eyes filled slowly with surprise at his hurried words. Then sadness… and understanding, the thing she was probably best at. Compassion, sympathy, all laced with pain and longing as she listened to him.



I know it can't be, because I'm not meant to have it. Had all the passion she'd shared with him shown him nothing of his worth? I don't dare upset that balance. To her mind, it translated clearly to, I'm not ready for this, and I never will be.



But he looked so ready, with those terribly earnest eyes hinting at so much repressed emotion that she wondered if anyone had every truly seen Vincent's heart. Tears threatened on her lashes. For all his strength, he was fragile there, if only against genuine feelings for another person. She'd known from the start that this was no relationship. Known, wondered, then been firmly reminded by him, only to have it come to question again after each knowing, sensual look or fleeting touch. Or passionate, breath-stealing encounter. He wanted her… but he was afraid to have her. And he was probably most terrified of giving the entirety of himself to her, if indeed such a thought had ever crossed his mind.



She pulled her hands gently from his tight grip, placing shaking, gentle fingers on his cheeks. Unwilling to force feelings on him that he didn't want (especially with Cid and Cloud in the other room) Tifa stroked his cheeks and did well to keep her tears.



"Then, you don't have to." She tried to call forth her most caring smile, but it quivered and died on her lips. "You don't have to do anything you don't want, Vincent. I understand. And it's okay."



It took every nerve she had to be strong enough to say her next words. "You should do what you feel is best for you. If that's not… this, then I'm alright with that." Her tone was gentle, kind, even light.



But she turned quickly back to the dryer, tears falling as she pulled his slacks out and folded them neatly. "Just…" She took a deep breath before trying again as she hastily wiped her eyes. "Just tell me that you won't avoid me completely." A strained smile worked its way into her words as she turned to him with the slacks. "I'd miss you."



Vincent:

"Tifa…" Vincent sighed as she pulled away, keen ears easily picking up the change in her breathing, the tears she was so desperately trying to hide from him. He knew she was being strong, strong for him, and that humbled his heart. She loved so much, gave so much of herself, and, despite her assurances and countless negations, he still felt himself unworthy of such devotion.



Tifa didn't love him. Vincent wouldn't, couldn't believe that. If he did, then he might never again leave her side. And that he couldn't afford. Ever. I could never stay away from you, Tifa. Not now. Not knowing what I do.



Unable to bear it, the gunslinger turned away from her, moving slowly to the door of the laundry room. There, he paused and took a deep shuddering breath, turning only his head to ask quietly, "…would you tell Cloud? And Cid? Would you tell them, Tifa? Would you walk in there right now and tell them you and I are lovers?"



A hard question, perhaps, but Vincent hated the hushed queries, the deception. If Tifa truly desired more from him, then she would well understand the implications of such a question.



Tifa:

She had her back to him, hands braced on the dryer as he moved to walk out of the room. Knuckles white as she gripped the cool metal edges, Tifa could only exhale a shaking breath when she heard him speak.



He's calling you out, Tifa. He's trying to make you see that you don't want this either.



The problem was that he was both right and wrong. Not even turning her head, she came back with a quiet, even response. "If I did, I'd be jumping the gun, so to speak. I haven't even convinced you of that. What reason would there be to make anyone else believe it?"



Her cheeks were wet now, but it was fine. He couldn't see her, wouldn't see her anyway. Truthfully, Tifa didn't know if she could do it, if she could tell Cloud and Cid and everyone else what had been happening between her and the enigmatic gunman. Yet she was certain that there was no point in doing so if he still wanted to walk away.



Vincent:

Now he did turn around to face her. "Isn't that what you ask of me? To leap ahead blindly into this…whatever it is?" A wave of his hand indicated their "mess".



"Control is what I am, Tifa, and for good reason. You, better than most, know what lies beneath this skin, what lurks behind my eyes." Black brows drew down the barest fraction.



"I have to be in control. Else it leaps to take over. This…" he shook his head, "…isn't beneficial for either of us, Tifa. Tell me. Tell me just what it is you want from me. I cannot think it only the physical gratification, else you would not be so upset over it. What else is there for you, Tifa?"



Tifa:

Her head turned slowly, followed halfway by her body as dark, glistening eyes met his gaze. Her voice came out as quiet and tremulous as her breath.



"If I told you, would that change anything? Would that change what you aren't willing to do? What does it really matter what I want? It won't change anything, it shouldn't. The truth is that I'm not even certain what to call it." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and biting her lip for the moment it took to regain a tiny measure of composure.



"If I called it a need for someone to be with, you'd feel used. If I called it-" She hitched on the word, barely able to utter it even to herself. "… love, then you wouldn't believe me. Or you'd run away. Whatever it is, does it really matter? If keeping your routine is what makes you happy… then do that."



She turned again, staring out the small window above the dryer. "Obviously there's nothing in this for you."



Vincent:

Stung by her latter statement more than anything else, Vincent recoiled, rocking back on his heels. Two heartbeats later saw him striding darkly down the hall, pausing in the main room only to grab his gunbelt and duffel before leaving the bar. He didn't even bother to slam the door behind him; he was above such a childish display of temper.



Outside, night had fallen, and Valentine was thankful for it, because the ache in his soul was too fragile to bear the sun's light. Standing just in front of the door, he took a deep breath then strode for his car. Starting the engine, he firmly and determinedly drove out of the parking lot, heading home, where he should have gone in the first place.



Nothing in this for you… The words kept playing over and over in his mind. No, nothing at all. Not the warmth of another body next to his, not the caring of another sentient soul. Not the sparkle of brown eyes when they turned his way, not the smile that made him feel worthy, wanted.



But you didn't tell her, gunslinger, the snarled voice whispered in his ears. You just foisted your need off as another brand of fear, terrified to let her get to you. But she has, I know she has. You dream of her, you want her… Chaos drifted off on a sibilant hiss, making Vincent growl and gun the accelerator, barreling past his complex and heading for the highway out of the city, the powerful car screaming along the blacktop as he drove fast and hard, not caring of his direction.



Tifa:

Left alone, Tifa finally doubled over, forehead pressed to the cool touch of the dryer's top. Her lungs burned, refusing to stop their constriction to let her breathe while hot tears leaked through closed eyes. She made barely a sound, but Tifa felt like she was breaking. And why? It was a bad idea to begin with. It started as loneliness and lust on a drunken night. It never should have meant anything. But it had, and it just walked away. Absent his presence, Tifa felt the weight of what they had done crush down upon her, added to heavy words and implications of feelings that were never intended to be.



Outside the door, blue eyes watched her under lowered brows as Cid's fists clenched. He and Cloud had seen Vincent storm out, practically fleeing the building with a look that could only mean something bad. It was a minute change, but anyone who knew him at all could have seen it. The two men left in the bar exchanged worried looks, then Cloud had stood with the intention of checking on Tifa.



"Nah", Cid had said. "I'm sure she just teased 'im or something. Y'know how easy it is to upset him at times."



Obviously, something had been strange between Tifa and Vincent. And obviously, it had gone very wrong. Watching her shoulders shudder as she cried in near-silence, the pilot couldn't bring himself to say anything. What would he tell Cloud? Should he say anything? When he turned to find said man standing behind him with a dark look on his youthful face, he saw that he wouldn't have to.




To be continued…