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Birds of a Feather	By : Ash_Gray_Kitsune Category: Final Fantasy VII > Het - Male/Female > Vincent/Tifa Views: 1095 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor do I make any money off of it.

Chapter List
- 1-Birds of a Feather
- 1
Tifa had to smile a little as her frequent visitor shifted his weight on the bar stool, his contemplation of his whiskey glass interrupted by a gaggle of bachelorettes begging her for martinis and cosmos. This was part of her usual crowd on Monday nights, the last of the work crowd drifting off into Edge's shadowy streets, a remnant of the swell of people from just four hours before. Vincent had drifted in with the first swell, and after hiding in her smallest booth for the majority of the night, he'd slunk to the bar as usual, nursing a few glasses of whiskey along the way. It was his way, and she was quite used to it; in fact, she preferred it, and more often than not, she found herself taking her breaks with him, happy for the quiet aura of his company. He eyed her as she deftly made the drinks, pouring them directly into the salted glasses, earning her a chorus of drunken cheers for the final flourishes. As the girls drifted away, congregating around one of the far corner booths, Vincent finally heaved a sigh of relief. Crimson eyes met her own claret when she chuckled, and a tiny smile quirked those thin lips.
"You are amused?"
"Oh Vincent, I shouldn't laugh, but you're so easy to read." He tipped the glass to her and took a sip, eyes closing to the burn down his throat, and he settled his elbows on the bar, propping his head up on long, slender hands, one encased in a black leather glove to protect both the eyes of strangers, and the fragile skin that covered his arm as he met her eyes again. He was dressed simpler than usual; a dark blue silk shirt (ever the vain bird, he had to have the best, and really, he could afford it) and black jeans, his holster still strapped around one thigh, knee-high boots and a discarded jacket topping the ensemble. He'd cut his hair, too, to what it had been in his Turk days, though it still was about as unruly as it had been long.
"Ah, so I am an open book?" She mimicked him, just a little ways down, crab-shuffling over to lean across from him.
"No, but you are a very interesting puzzle at times. So, are you going to the motel tonight, or will you finally spend the night here? The old place is a little empty without Denzel and Marlene." Vincent raised an eyebrow at her offer, but his expression softened. Tifa was not a woman who did well alone; she was like a songbird, and away from her flock, she didn't know what else to do. He could see how lonely she was...and ever since he'd returned from the hell that had hidden beneath Midgar, he'd made a point of visiting her more and more in the last two years. Five years since Meteor...
"Marlene is back home with Barret, of course...Denzel is with Cloud, yes?"
"Mmhmm. He's been Cloud's assistant for the last year or so anyway, and since Cloud's been working so much with Reeve these days, he's not alone in the warehouse anymore. It does help that Reno and Rude are helping him too..."
"I thought that Yuffie was moving in here a few months ago..." Tifa shrugged, absently noting that the bar was finally emptying out. She ran the bar from just after the dinner hours to around one or so, her second job out at one of the retail stores ending at five, but starting at nine in the morning, leaving her usually with very little time to herself. Vincent, and the others, of course, but mostly the tall gunman, had taught her to begin delegating her duties out so that she could take time off. Usually, it was a little dinner, some drinking, and the occasional movie, but lately...it had only been Vincent coming around. And she had wondered, ever since Cloud had moved out, if perhaps the reason why Vincent had warmed to her so much after the Deepground affairs was because he had a vested interest in her. Now, wouldn't that be a pretty picture? She glanced over at him and fought to hold back a blush at his own gaze. Cid had always said that Vincent was a raven; harsh, imposing, dangerous and solitary...but ravens were quite the gentlemen, weren't they? And they mated for life...Resolutely, she shoved thatidea out of her head.
"She was, but then she had to go back to Wutai. Godo wasn't doing to well, and her honor won't let her neglect her country." Vincent huffed out a laugh and took another swig, his tone musing.
"I never would have imagined that I'd be on a first name basis with the leaders of two continents..." Tifa laughed, and filled his glass again, sipping her own long-stemmed wine glass with ease.
"Me either, but oh, how far we've come. So, I'd like an answer, my dear nightbird; are you staying or are you going?" She replied glibly, sliding off the counter to begin collecting glasses and shut up for the night. He raised another eyebrow at that; 'nightbird', was he? Well, then, that did deserve a truthful answer, and as he watched her sweep up the glasses, he had to admit, part of his reason for returning so often wasn't entirely due to friendship. Any fool could see that Tifa was attractive; he personally found her to be drop-dead gorgeous, and she looked no less beautiful in the dark jeans and swoop-necked blouse than she had in that white tank top and leather miniskirt. In fact, he rather liked what she was wearing tonight...the jeans flared from her knee down in a gentle angle out, curving up over those perfect hips...the blouse was loose and flowing, occasionally dipping down to reveal a perfect, pale shoulder, the soft swell of her breasts hidden, teasing just below that top hem.
Lucrecia had been pretty, but inside, she was as cold as the mako that encased her. Tifa was warmth and life and true beauty, alive in every sense of the word. He had cared for Aerith, but she'd been rather distant, in his opinion; not that he hadn't felt sorrow at her loss, but it was a sorrow for the planet and its people, as well as the girl. Tifa, though...he felt his chest tighten at the mere thought that she could be so easily harmed, and he knew, deep down, that should that ever happen...He rose, the alcohol making his senses just a touch sharper. He made his way carefully over to her, and picked up the first trayful, the larger one as she glanced up.
"Vincent, you're my guest!"
"Perhaps, but I can't in good conscience not help you." She sighed, but her rosy lips curved up in a smile and he felt his own face react in kind.
"...Alright then. It would be nice to rest early tonight, for a change..." The next hour went quick, to his surprise; she had two sinks behind her bar, and with both of them washing the glasses, (Vincent took off his glove to protect the leather) the workload disappeared with ease. He leaned back with a groan and stretched his shoulders, working out the kink that leaning over had caused. She laughed softly, her voice huskier than usual, and after drying her hands smartly on the towel between them, reached up to rub her strong hands along the taut muscles around his spine. Vincent's eyes closed in pleasure, and he let her massage out the knot, his hands clenching, just a little, at the lip of the sink.
"It's been a while since I've been a dishwasher..." His own voice had deepened, and a flash of a grin flitted across his face when her fingers stumbled. Ah, he still had his touch..."You need not do that, Tifa."
"Think of it as a thank you for helping me. I didn't expect to close up at ten tonight." Oh? Vincent licked his lips, and pulled away from her, just a little, curving his body back around to face her, leaning up against the counter's edge, his height diminished as he leaned over her. She was roughly a head shorter than he, and those warm red eyes met his own, pleasantly void of fear or distrust. She knew him, knew his body language, his actions...
"Tifa..." Was it just him, or did she color a little when he said her name?
"Yes, Vincent?" Gods, the way she said his...it was never 'Vin' or 'Vinnie', it was always, always Vincent. Gods, he could love the woman just for that. Fortunately, the feeling seemed to be mutual, and though he felt as though he was about to dive headlong off a cliff...the feeling had never been sweeter.
"Are you...seeing anyone?" Tifa flushed softly, but she shook her head, slowly, her heart in her throat. "Would you...like to?"
"Yes..." It was a whisper of sound that passed her lips, so quiet that even his sharp ears barely heard it, and he closed the distance between them, his human hand coming up to rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw. A thrill ran through his body as she leaned into his touch, her own hands coming up to close about his hand and wrist, and he drew her close, brushing his lips across her forehead. "How long...?"
"Since you and Cloud levered that coffin lid off, and woke me to the world I'd lost. Despite what our blonde friend might think, you were the first I laid eyes on in three decades...and my first thought was that I'd finally died, and my angel was there to take me away." He replied, his voice softer, gentler, as he tucked her head under his chin, snuggling her close. "And in the last five years, I've discovered that what I felt for Lucrecia was a kind of love, but not the sort that lasts. She never would have braved the wilds, fighting monsters, camping rough, for almost a year, and she never would have come to the aid of others. You...You thrive in adversity, like the little flowers that I remember clinging to the cliffs of the Nibel mountains. And you...are just as beautiful as they." She laughed into his chest, and he dipped his head down further, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"A flower, eh? I thought that was Aeris..." He chuckled as well.
"Perhaps the analogy is in need of alteration, then? A songbird, whose beauty is in her voice and her actions, as well as her plumage." She giggled at that, and pulled away, snickering a little at his quirked eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Cid always calls you a raven...so I suppose it really does fit. You know how the old saying goes, after all..." He smiled, and drew her in for another kiss, his lips hovering over hers.
"Oh, that I do...we flock together, don't we?"
- 1
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Birds of a Feather