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Tifa grimaces, massaging her neck with a hand. She feels… tense. Sore. Days on the road, camping under the stars… Sometimes, she feels like she’s in her 50s, instead of 20 years old. Her muscles protest the constant battles, and her knuckles feel like a bruise, despite their deeply set callouses.
She wants to rest. They deserve a small break, don’t they? A few days off. Let… let the world rescue itself for a day or two. There’s no rush… she thinks. Maybe. Some days, it’s hard to say — but it probably won’t destroy itself if they just take one day off.
She doesn’t ask, though. Does not want to see that lost look on Cloud’s face, does not want to hear Barret’s motivational speech.
But she also really, really misses sleeping in a bed with certain consistency.
She groans, leaning forward onto her knees. They have stopped at a small village for the night, so at least today she will have actual support behind her back when she sleeps, and won’t have to battle bugs or the cold.
She will even get to shower properly. It feels like way too long since she last had access to warm water. Maybe it will even ease some of the lingering soreness of her muscles.
She’s so busy trying not to fall asleep before it’s her turn in the bathroom that she doesn’t even hear the door open, nor realize someone is in the room until soft fingers touch her shoulder.
She startles, hissing through her teeth when the sudden movement pulls something uncomfortable down her back.
“Are you ok?” Aerith’s voice reaches her just after she realizes who touched her.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Tifa gets out, trying to twist her spine into release. “Just a bit sore.”
When she looks up, Aerith is leaning down in front of her, small pout on her mouth as she frowns.
“You should’ve told me!” She complains. “I could have healed you.”
Tifa smiles at her. “It’s fine, Aerith. It’s normal for all the fighting we do. You should see back when I was first learning to fight, this is great, I just need a rest.”
“Nuh-uh,” Aerith shakes her head, straightening up with her hands on her hips. “C’mon, turn around, I’ll help.”
Tifa tries to protest, but if there’s one thing she’s learned, it’s that Aerith is stubborn as a mule.
She sets down with crossed legs, her back towards Aerith, and holds herself still as she waits.
She doesn’t wait long before light, soft fingers start trailing up her shoulders, pressing softly when she flinches a bit.
“It’s just me,” Aerith coos, settling her hands with thumbs resting under her nape. “Just take a deep breath for me, ok?”
Tifa tries, breathing deep and slowly as she wills herself to relax. She trusts Aerith. She likes Aerith. She likes her touch, likes how soft and sweet and gentle she always approaches Tifa. Like Tifa deserves that sweetness, even with all her rough edges and her muscles.
It makes her… warm. Soft inside.
She smiles, ducking her head a bit to offer Aerith better reach.
It starts slowly, a warmth radiating down from Aerith’s fingertips. It’s a bit like a warm shower, but if it has been poured gently down her neck. It radiates quiet and sure, making tense muscles relax as they pass by.
In no time at all, she’s leaning back, pressing further into the hands on her shoulders, trying to get their warmth to set comfortably on her skin.
Aerith giggles, rubbing her thumbs comfortingly before pressing a bit, almost like a tentative massage.
“This ok?” Aerith asks, voice quieter and gentler than usual.
“Yeah,” Tifa breathes out, “it’s great.”
Maybe she’d be more embarrassed if Aerith hadn’t immediately hummed and pressed harder, more confident in her massage.
Tifa doesn’t know how long it takes them, how long they sit there in the soft quiet of unspoken words, just Aerith’s hands in her shoulders and the gentle warmth of healing spell traveling down her spine — but at some point, Tifa’s head knocks against something soft and she realizes she has leaned back far enough to hit Aerith, and Aerith just… doesn’t stop.
“Thank you,” Tifa murmurs, eyes fluttering open to the sight of Aerith’s pretty face and delighted little smile.
“Any time, Tifa,” Aerith answers, kind. “Please tell me, next time. I’d be happy to help again.”
“… Yeah,” she promises quietly.
Maybe she will.
And maybe, next time, Tifa will even speak the other words sitting quietly in her chest, and put a shape to the warm fondness that takes her over whenever they pass any time like this, just the two of them.
Maybe.