Chapter Text
The neon Seventh Heaven sign hummed with a low, familiar buzz, but the bar was quiet for once. The kids were over at Elmyra’s for the night, leaving the tavern to the two of them.
Tifa sat at her usual spot behind the counter, the wood polished to a mirror shine. She twisted the silver band on her finger, watching the light catch the small materia-inspired stone. Two years of marriage, but nearly a lifetime of “them.” The therapy had helped bridge those miles of silence they used to keep between them. Now, the silence just felt like home.
The low, throaty rumble of Fenrir grew louder outside, vibrating through the floorboards before cutting out into a satisfying click. A moment later, the door pushed open.
Cloud stepped in, his hair windblown and his shoulder guard slightly dusty from the road. He didn’t look like the brooding mercenary who had walked into her bar all those years ago; his expression was soft, his eyes instantly finding hers. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips—the kind he saved only for her.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a low, warm rasp.
“Hey,” Tifa replied, her heart doing that familiar little skip.
He walked over, the heavy clink of his boots rhythmic on the wood, and leaned against the counter right across from her. He looked tired, but the good kind of tired—the kind that comes from a day’s honest work and knowing exactly where you belong at the end of it.
“Long haul today?” she asked, reaching out to brush a stray bit of Kalm’s golden dust off his glove.
“A bit,” Cloud admitted, letting out a slow breath. “The road near the marsh is getting soft again, had to take the long way around. But the delivery got there.”
Tifa walks toward him, her hand finding his arm. “There’s something I want from you.”
“What’s that?”
Tifa lays her hand on his chest, her lips getting closer to his. “You know what I want.”
“I do.” The air in the bar seemed to grow warmer, the hum of the neon lights fading into the background as Cloud’s hands settled firmly on her waist. The kiss was slow, tasting of the wind from the road and the home they had built together. When they finally pulled apart, the usual stoic SOLDIER mask was completely gone, replaced by a look of quiet, fierce devotion.
“Happy anniversary,” Cloud murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her hip. “I got you a gift. Something from the hills outside Kalm.”
Tifa smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. “Well, great minds think alike. Because I’ve been hiding this behind the bar all afternoon.”
She reached under the counter and pulled out a rectangular gift box, wrapped in deep navy paper with a silver ribbon that matched the metal of his bike. She slid it across the polished wood toward him.
Cloud looked at the box, then back at her, his expression softening into that rare, boyish curiosity. He wasn’t used to being spoiled, even after two years of marriage, and he always handled her gifts like they were made of fragile crystal.
“Tifa, you didn’t have to,” he said, though his hands were already reaching for the ribbon.
“I wanted to,” she countered, leaning her chin on her hand to watch his reaction. “Open it.”
Cloud’s fingers worked the ribbon, his movements careful as he opened the box Tifa had placed on the counter. Inside, he found a beautifully crafted leather holster for his fusion sword’s components—engraved with a subtle, elegant design that mirrored the floral patterns Tifa often wore. It was practical, sturdy, and undeniably “him.”
“Tifa…” Cloud murmured, tracing the craftsmanship with his thumb. “This is incredible. Thank you.”
He set the gift aside and reached into his own pocket, pulling out a small, velvet-lined box he’d brought back from the markets in Kalm. He slid it across the bar toward her.
“My turn,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as he watched her face.
Tifa unwraps her gift. Inside of it was a silver pendant. Cloud leaned in, his chin resting near her shoulder as she held the pendant up to the light. The photo inside was a candid one—not a stiff, formal portrait, but a shot taken outside Seventh Heaven a few months back. In it, Tifa was laughing at something Marlene had said, and Cloud was looking at Tifa with that quiet, unguarded expression he only wore when the rest of the world was tuned out.
“I saw the locket in a shop in Kalm,” Cloud said softly, his hand finding hers on the counter. “The jeweler said it was old-fashioned, but… I liked the idea of you having a piece of ‘us’ even when I’m out on a run. So you don’t have to just rely on memory.”
Tifa’s thumb brushed over the tiny glass pane protecting the image. It was a far cry from the days when Cloud was a ghost from her past; now, he was her present, etched in silver and gold.
“I love it, Cloud. Truly.” She turned in his arms, the pendant clutched safely in her palm. “Help me put it on?”
Cloud nodded, taking the delicate chain from her. As Tifa lifted her hair and turned her back to him, his fingers—usually so used to the heavy steel of a Buster Sword—became incredibly gentle as he worked the small clasp at the nape of her neck.
Cloud fastened the clasp, his fingers lingering for a second on the back of her neck before he let her hair fall back into place. Tifa turned around, the pendant resting perfectly against her collarbone, catching the light from the bar’s neon signs.
“It looks perfect on you,” he murmured.
Tifa beamed, reaching up to touch the cool metal of the locket. “Thank you, Cloud. Truly.” She took his hand, her fingers interlacing with his calloused ones. “Now, I think we’ve had enough of the bar for one night. I closed up early for a reason.”
Cloud glanced around the empty room, a look of relief crossing his face. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Come on,” she said, leading him toward the back stairs. “I’ve got dinner waiting upstairs. Nothing fancy, just your favorite—and I promise, no delivery calls allowed for the rest of the night.”
Cloud let out a small, huffed laugh, the kind that always made Tifa smile because of how relaxed it sounded. “I think I can manage that.”
They made their way up the narrow wooden staircase, the boards creaking familiarly under their weight. Upstairs, the living quarters were warm and smelled of home—stew simmering on the stove and the faint, clean scent of laundry. It was a far cry from the cold metal of Shinra buildings or the dusty roads of the Wastelands.
As Tifa headed toward the kitchen to plate the food, Cloud stepped out onto the small balcony for a moment, looking out at the lights of Edge, before turning back to watch his wife. Two years later, and it still felt like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.
Tifa leaned against the kitchen counter, stirring a pot of stew that was beginning to bubble, while Cloud leaned back against the table, watching her with a relaxed posture he only ever showed within these walls.
“Ran into Barret at Kalm,” Cloud said, his voice dropping into that conversational hum they’d perfected over the last two years.
Tifa looked up, a bright spark of interest in her eyes. “Oh? I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks. How’s he doing?”
Cloud gave a short, huffed laugh, shaking his head slightly. “He’s holding up. Still same old Barret. He nearly cracked my ribs giving me a ‘proper’ greeting in the middle of the market. I think half of Kalm stopped to stare.”
Tifa chuckled, the sound light and musical. She could perfectly picture the scene—Barret’s booming voice and massive frame causing a scene while Cloud tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. “I bet he was asking a thousand questions about Marlene. Did he mention how the survey for the new oil grove is going?”
“He did,” Cloud nodded, his expression softening. “He’s tired, but he’s proud of the work. He told me to tell you he’s eating his vegetables, though I have my doubts. He mostly wanted to make sure I wasn’t ‘slacking off’ on my husband duties.”
Tifa turned down the heat on the stove and walked over to Cloud, wiping her hands on her apron. She came to a stop right in front of him, a playful smirk on her lips. “And what did you tell him?”
Cloud reached out, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and pulling her just a fraction closer. “I told him I was doing my best. And that I had a very good reason to get back home as fast as Fenrir would carry me.”
Tifa let out a soft, melodic laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked up at him. She reached up, playfully smoothing out the stray spikes of his hair that had been windswept from the ride.
“My, my, Cloud Strife,” she teased, her voice dropping into a playful lilt. “Did therapy turn you into a regular romantic? I remember a time when getting you to say ‘I’m coming home’ was like pulling teeth from a Behemoth.”
Cloud felt the tips of his ears turn a faint shade of pink—a telltale sign that, despite two years of marriage, she could still make him bashful. He looked away for a split second before meeting her gaze again, his grip on her waist tightening just slightly.
“I had a lot of catching up to do,” he countered, a slow, tugging smirk appearing on his lips. “Besides, I think the ‘romantic’ part is just me being honest. Harder to hide things when your wife can read you like an open book.”
Tifa leaned in, her forehead resting against his for a brief, tender moment. “Well, I happen to like the ‘honest’ version of you. It suits you much better than the brooding.”
She gave his chest a playful little pat before turning back to the stove. “Now, sit down, ‘Mr. Romantic.’ The stew is ready, and if I let it simmer any longer, even Barret wouldn’t be able to vouch for my cooking.”
Cloud pulled out a chair for her before sitting down himself, the steam from the bowls rising between them. He took a slow spoonful of the stew, but his mind was clearly on more than just the meal. He looked around their kitchen, then back at Tifa, his blue eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity.
“So, what’s gonna happen next? For us?” Cloud asked. It wasn’t a question born of anxiety anymore, but of genuine curiosity. For so long, “the future” had been a luxury they couldn’t afford to think about.
Tifa rested her chin on her hand, a thoughtful smile playing on her lips. “Well, I had a talk with our work friends. We decided that we are gonna remodel a tiny bit with the bar.”
Cloud paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “What kind of remodel?”
“Amping up the sign a little,” she explained, her eyes brightening as she envisioned it. “A little bit of the interior down here. Maybe some new upholstery for the booths—something that doesn’t hold the dust quite as much. And I was thinking of expanding the kitchen area just a touch so we can offer a full dinner menu, not just bar snacks.”
Cloud nodded slowly, already visualizing the logistics. He’d probably be the one hauling the lumber and the new neon tubing. “The sign could use a tune-up. The flicker in the ‘H’ has been bothering me for a month.”
Tifa laughed. “I knew you noticed that. But beyond the bar… I want us to keep building this. A place where Marlene and Denzel feel safe, and where you don’t feel like you have to leave every time things get too quiet.”
“What could we do for our third anniversary?” he asked.
“Costa del Sol?”
Cloud’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. He leaned back in his chair, the tension of the long ride from Kalm fully melting away now.
“Costa del Sol?” he repeated, his voice trailing off as he imagined it. No delivery quotas, no dusty roads, and definitely no monsters—just the sound of the ocean and the sun. “It’s been a while since we were there for anything other than chasing lead.”
Tifa nodded enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Exactly. No Shinra, no world-ending threats. Just a week of sitting on the beach. Maybe we could even stay in one of those villas with the private balconies.”
“I think I could get used to that,” Cloud admitted. “Though I’m pretty sure I’d still end up looking for something to fix after two days of sitting still.”
Tifa reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “Then I’ll just have to make sure you’re too busy relaxing to notice any leaky faucets. We’ve earned a little bit of ‘normal’ luxury, don’t you think?”
Cloud squeezed back, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. “Yeah. We have.”
The light from the bedside lamp cast a soft, amber glow over the room as the quiet of the night finally settled in. Tifa smoothed out her purple long-sleeve pajama shirt, the soft fabric a welcome change from her leather bar gear, while Cloud finished pulling on his simple gray pajamas.
The bed creaked familiar and welcoming as they both climbed in, the cool sheets quickly warming against them. After two years, there was no more hesitation—just a natural, practiced gravity that drew them toward the center of the mattress.
Cloud leaned back against the headboard for a moment, watching Tifa settle in beside him. The pendant he’d given her caught a glint of the lamp light, resting just above the collar of her shirt.
“Comfortable?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.
“Perfect,” Tifa whispered. She shifted closer, tucking herself against his side and resting her head on his shoulder.
Cloud reached over, clicking off the lamp and plunging the room into a peaceful darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. The “SOLDIER” in him was always alert, but here, with the steady rhythm of Tifa’s breathing against his chest, he finally let his guard drop completely.
The darkness of the room was warm and quiet, the only sound being the distant, muffled hum of Edge settling down for the night. Cloud tightened his hold on her just a fraction, his chin resting gently atop her head. The scent of her shampoo—something light and floral—always seemed to ground him more than anything else in the world.
“Happy anniversary, Tifa,” he murmured, his voice thick with a sincerity that didn’t need the light to be seen.
Tifa smiled against his chest, her hand finding his and lacing their fingers together over her heart. “Happy anniversary, Cloud. Here’s to many more.”
He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. The steady, calm beat of his heart under her palm told her everything the old Cloud would have struggled to put into words. They had survived the end of the world, but building this—this quiet, simple life—was their greatest victory.
As sleep began to pull at them, Cloud placed a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead, and for the first time in a long time, both of them fell into a dreamless, peaceful rest.