sekiharatae | Fanfic -- "In Grain Alcohol is Truth"

Title: In Grain Alcohol is Truth
Characters: Cloud/Tifa
Rating: K
Notes: For the

ffvii_het_meme . There were two requests for a drunken Cloud... and this is what came out when I tried to write him that way. He's really more tipsy -- the 'euphoric' stage on the BAC chart -- than out-right drunk.

It went without saying that Cloud could drink any of them under the table, and still be perfectly sober. The night Tifa and Barret got half-drunk on Corel wine, Cloud had been more affected by the company and the atmosphere than by the wine itself. His mako-fueled metabolism burnt alcohol like it was dry grass in a summer drought, and not even Barret’s size and muscle mass were enough to compensate.

What Tifa had never expected was for Yuffie to talk him into actually doing it. Especially not consecutively. While part of her wanted to know how the ninja had done it – being able to talk Cloud into circumventing his good sense and do something he knew was stupid? Definitely a skill worth learning – another was less than pleased to have three of her friends passed out in her bar.

Although... getting to spend time with a most definitely, and adorably, drunk Cloud made up for the noise, and the mess, and even the tremendous amount of alcohol they had consumed.

Apparently even he had a saturation point. ‘Tipsy’ was equal to the number of shots it took to match first Yuffie, then Barret, and then Cid, drink for drink over a span of a few hours, until the other three fell into a happy stupor, one after the other.

Reeve had long since left, taking Cait with him. Vincent and Nanaki had withdrawn into a corner, unwilling to participate in the obvious folly happening at the bar. Yuffie was curled up asleep on the long bench that ran the length of the room, while Barret had found his way upstairs to collapse in Cloud’s bed. Cid was in the corner opposite his sober companions, asleep sitting up.

Which left Tifa and Cloud in relative privacy. He watched her with soft, attentive eyes while she washed the small army of shot glasses he’d emptied, a small but noticeably happy smile on his face.

“You’re very pretty, Tifa,” he told her suddenly, and if his voice was pitched in its usual range, it had still lost most of its hesitance. “You’ve always been pretty,” he continued, when she blushed but continued working without responding, “even when you were eight years old, and wore frilly dresses.” His tone conveyed what his nine year old self had thought of frilly dresses, and it wasn’t positive. There was a pause, and out of the corner of her eye she could see him tilting his head and giving her a speculative glance. “Why don’t you wear frilly dresses anymore, Tifa?”

Was his tone wistful?

“It would be hard to run after Denzel and Marlene,” and you, she silently added, “in a dress, Cloud.”

“Would it?” he sounded utterly astonished. “But... you wore a skirt before,” he pointed out, as if she’d forgotten, “when we fought Sephiroth last time. Remember?” Tifa nodded, but Cloud’s eyes were half-closed and he wasn’t paying much attention to anything outside whatever was going on in his head. “A short skirt. It made your legs look like they went on forever, and I had to be careful not to look whenever–“

“Cloud!”

The swordsman blinked as his chain of thought was interrupted. “What?”

Hands on hips, fighting to keep her lips from twitching into a smile, she gave him a stern look. “Did you look up my skirt?”

Sober, he would probably have blushed, and denied it. Drunk, he gave her a look that simultaneously managed to proclaim that she’d asked a stupid question – because he was male, thank you -- while also conveying his suspicion that it was a trick question. “...yes?”

She couldn’t help it, and burst into giggles. Pleased by her reaction, he smiled a bit wider as well. “I think you should wear a dress again,” he told her earnestly, when her laughter had faded. His considering expression was back, and he nodded to himself, as if he’d come to some important decision. “I’ll take you somewhere special so you can.”

Tifa stilled. Was that... almost... a date? “Really?” she winced internally at the longing that one word betrayed.

Oblivious, Cloud simply nodded. “Sure.”

Shaking her head a bit, she reached out to cup his face in her hands. “Oh, Cloud. What am I going to do with you?” His blue eyes widened, then blinked, and darkened perceptibly as an inkling filtered into his fuzzy mind. “Don’t answer that,” she told him, voice teasing as she turned to fill a glass with water and set it in front of him.

“Ok.” There was a pause while he examined the glass, turning it in circles. “Why not?”

“Drink that,” she instructed firmly, and watched as he obediently drained it down before refilling it and nodding at him to repeat the procedure. “Because you might regret it tomorrow, when you’re not so... happy.”

The third time she filled the glass he grimaced, and pushed it away. She pushed it right back. “I’m not drunk, Tifa. I don’t get drunk.”

“I didn’t say you were. I said you were happy, and you are. But since you mention it, you are also very definitely drunk.” He frowned, clearly disbelieving, and she felt an impish impulse to tease him, just a little. “Alright, I’ll prove it to you. Close your eyes.”

His brows rose and fell in confusion, but he did as she asked.

“Now. I’m going to say a word, and I want you to tell me the first thing that pops into your head.” One eye opened to give her a look, and she stared until he closed it again. “Barret?”

“Loud.”

That was certainly no surprise. “Nanaki?”

“Friend.”

Hmmm. She would’ve said flame, but Cloud – who had been subject to labels all his life – would avoid fixating on others due to their differences. “Vincent?”

“Vampire.”

Or maybe not. She struggled not to giggle. “You wouldn’t have said that if you were sober.”

“Would so.” But the corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile, giving truth to the lie.

“Yuffie?”

“Trouble. Lots of trouble.”

Tifa did allow a small laugh to escape at that. “Bar?”

“Home.”

Oh. OH. “Denzel?”

“Little man.”

And he was, always trying so hard to be brave and helpful. “Marlene?”

“Panda.”

She still didn’t understand that nickname. “Water?”

“No.”

Very definite and emphatic, there. “Fenrir?”

“Freedom.”

She could understand how that would be important to him. “Pretty?”

“Tifa.”

Well... he had said it earlier. “Patient?”

“Tifa.”

That gave her pause. Would it be fishing for compliments...? “Sweet?”

“Tifa.”

He’d smirked that time. So maybe it was fishing. Who cared? She thought for a moment, then smiled to herself. “Kiss?”

“Tifa.”

He hadn’t even hesitated, nor was he blushing. That was all her. Cloud had actually settled back into his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, giving every appearance of being in control and enjoying himself. Swallowing, she decided to go for broke. “Tifa?”

For the first time, there was hesitance, Cloud opening and closing his mouth twice before finally answering.

“Want.”

Just one word, whispered in a voice dark and husky and full of so much untapped emotion that Tifa gasped. At the sound, his eyes opened to focus on her face, their expression more than matching his tone: deep blue and glowing with hunger and passion and longing. “That... that’s not the first thing you thought of.” The words were challenging, but their timbre was soft, curious, and hopeful.

His answering smile was tender yet wry. “No, but even if I am drunk, I’m not far gone enough to tell you what did.” Reaching out, he took her hand and drew her around to his side of the bar. “Any other questions, Miss Curious?” Obviously, now that he’d stopped imbibing, his system was making quick work of filtering the alcohol out of his blood.

Already wrapped in his embrace, she had no need to ask for a hug. “Will you tell me some other time?” she asked instead.

He chuckled. “Next time I’m drunk, feel free to try again.”

A few months later she did, and flushed with pleasure at his response, although by that time she’d long suspected the answer.