The bat was covered in blood and hair, but somehow she had spared her gloved hands and most of her getup any visible stain. And as the blonde, curly haired girl slammed the door closed behind her, dropped the bat and crossed the room towards the now standing brunette, he could only stare in astonishment as she pressed her front against the other’s, squeezing the brunette in a tight hug – and then diving in for a kiss.

         “Oh, Tifa,” she choked, rubbing her face against the other’s cheek, and her voice was a low rasp that managed to bring heat to his crotch despite the situation. “I’m sorry, I took so long, this—” she pulled back slightly, looking around the room again, understanding clear on her face, “I heard he had over a hundred goons, but Aeris said you needed time and…”

         “I bet she was the one who dressed you up,” said the brunette (“Tifa?”), her voice laced with amusement as she played with the golden curls. “She’s always had a good eye for these things.”

         The blonde flushed prettily, glancing away even as she kept her hands on the other’s waist. “She convinced me to get in as a bride,” she muttered.

         “Somehow,” added the brunette, with a smile.

         “But it’s not the point,” she grumbled, her angry voice betrayed only by her shiny eyes – too shiny. A mako-poisoning survivor? “If I had known, I’d’ve never— I knew it wasn’t safe, I—”

         “What’s with the blood, by the way?” asked the brunette. “You’re not the trigger-happy one, that’s usually Barret. Did you run into problems?”

         “My ‘escort’ tried to drag me into a dark alley,” the other said, eyes narrowing. “That’s why I say, it’s just not safe…”

         “Just like you took care of him, I took care of them,” the brunette smiled. “See? Here—”

         And she pulled the blonde into another kiss – a much harder, steamy one, and the blonde, apparently at her wit’s end, simply leaned into her, crushing their hips together as a low, very low and very sexy rumble vibrated through the air. The brunette hooked a leg around the other’s waist, and there was blood-red lipstick being smeared all over her face and down as the blonde suddenly seemed to get intensely bold, licking the brunette’s cheek towards her ear, and then down her neck—

         Their hidden spectator felt his pants growing uncomfortably tight, and a low moan squeezed past his throat – right now, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from them for his life. He still couldn’t help holding his breath – and his sounds – when they finally stopped to look hard into each other’s face; the brunette was flushed and her lips swollen red, and she had a reassuring smile.

         The blonde, however, was panting fast and loud and the mako blue of her eyes was thin like the corona of an eclipse, and so bright he could actually see it perfectly from his spot. He bit his lip to keep from moaning again, though he probably wouldn’t be heard over the pants; she looked so needy, and almost as if to prove his point, her hips pushed against the other woman’s, and she let escape a breathy moan. He could clearly imagine her being the friskier of the two…

         “Calmer now?” asked the brunette, touching her forehead against the blonde’s.

         “No,” the answer was a barely audible whisper; that blue gaze was so intense no one could mistake what she was talking about.

         “It’s been long,” the brunette laid her head against her shoulder, caressing the blonde’s back. “I missed you so much…”

         “I knew you couldn’t afford to show up, between Junon and here,” rasped the other, kissing the back of the brunette’s head, and then laying her own over hers. “Two months,” she continued, as if to herself. “Too long.”

         “I have them,” said the brunette, suddenly.

         The blonde immediately lifted her head, and the two looked at each other, one looking surprised, the other smug.

         “…them?” the blonde asked slowly, as if for confirmation.

         “The disks,” the brunette nodded, and their spectator’s brain had to be put to work with whatever little blood was still being pumped its way – what disks? Thad she was really an infiltrator seemed obvious now, but she hadn’t tried anything against Corneo, even after countless corny pick-up lines. Then her target had been disks and not Corneo – what was in them? Who was she working for, in that case? Who were they working for?

         He looked up and down the brunette’s body, looking for anywhere she could have hidden said disks, but all his lust-addled brain took notice of was how her pocket-less button-up shirt seemed to go tight at her breasts, even when they were buried into her lover’s puffy costume; how, even squeezed against the other’s chest, those breasts seemed to spread and crease the shirt, and how their size forced the woman’s back to curve inward so that she could grind against the other woman’s skirt; and how those tight, stretchy jeans hugged her backside and legs and how a leg was hooked around the blonde’s hip and… her pants had pockets, yes, but they, like the rest of the pants, were stretched against her skin and didn’t seem to have anything inside.

         She was so hot. They were both hot. His brain immediately dismissed the disks and wished they’d do the same, and do each other.

         However, the blonde had seemingly appraised her partner – caressing her back pockets for good measure – and reached similar conclusions. “Where?” and she seemed honestly confused.

         The brunette grinned like a loon and leaned towards the other’s ear, and he was unable to hear what she said – but the blonde’s eyes widened sharply, and seemed to dart around before the other’s hushed voice started again, and she started flushing from her neck up to her forehead—

         Straining desperately, his interest in the disks rekindled for all the wrong reasons, he shifted, biting back a grunt as his erection strained against his zipper, and then as his foot reminded him of its broken state.

         The sharp pain broke through the fog in his head, and, to his own disappointment, he felt himself soften up while the throbbing restarted at an uninteresting part of his anatomy; but then, the hushed words reached him loud and clear.

         “…you thinking what I’m thinking?”

         They were touching foreheads again, and the blonde had a look of utter disbelief— which then melted into an almost evil smile.

         “I’m thinking they must be mighty uncomfortable in there,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

         “They are,” the other whispered.

         “Maybe I should make sure they’re, ah, in a better position, then,” the whisper was turning more and more into a throaty rasp, and then the blonde kissed the brunette, leaning into her— and then, hooking an arm around the other’s waist, the blonde took a step forward, while the brunette leaned back into that arm, letting herself be dipped back as the other unbuttoned her pants—

         His mouth dropped open, even as his throbbing ankle was again forgotten over another kind of throbbing. They couldn’t possibly be in her panties – they’d show through in that case – but then, in there? Unless – maybe if they were really small – he’d heard of inch-wide disks for carrying concealed – but they were usually disguised as earrings—

         The blonde slipped a silk-gloved hand into the unbuttoned pants, instead of pulling them off as the mercenary desperately wished they’d do, and the brunette’s back was curved and her head thrown back as the blonde trailed kisses and smeared more lipstick down her throat, and one of the brunette’s legs was up and as open as possible with her foot on the other’s back and all that kept her from falling flat on her back as she rocked her hips at that hand was the blonde’s arm…

         “Is that good?” asked the blonde.

         “A little more,” whispered the other, her long hair trailing over the mess of guns and swords on the floor. She tightened both her hands on the blonde’s back, not for support but for impulse as she pushed her hip up against that hand, curving back even more.

         “Deeper?” asked the other, with a flushed grin.

         “Yes,” breathed the other—

         A loud beeping sound echoed through the room, and the mercenary desperately jumped up from his hiding place, gun in hand, ignoring any protests from his foot; he pointed the gun straight at the two of them, as, hooked around – or into – each other as they were, there was just no way they could move fast enough to avoid a bullet.

         But the two women just looked vaguely at him, as if he were a bothersome animal that strayed in their room during their alone time, like a pet cat.

         The beeping continued, and, never letting his eyes stray from them, he pulled the PHS from his belt.

         “Derwick here,” he said. The brunette shifted her hips, biting her lips, and he pointed his gun at her.

         “We were invaded!” said the harsh voice of the security boss, with something like a whimpering Corneo on the background. “They say it was a blonde chick with a mace! Where are you?”

         He thought fast. “The dungeon,” he grunted.

         The boss ignored the implications of those words. “Any sign of her!?”

         “Not yet, no,” he said.

         “Aaaargh!” the man screamed. “Whatever! Just shoot her if she shows up!!”

         “Can do,” he grunted again and, turning the phone off, he finally turned his full attention back to the two.

         At that point, he just didn’t care anymore. He waved his gun in an almost spastic manner at them.

         “Don’t stop,” he rasped. “Go on. Go on.”

         The blonde smiled at him with a promise of painful death, even as the stringy muscles under the glove tightened, making the other girl jerk her hips with a loud moan. Following the gentle pressure of the hands on her back, she lowered her head to kiss the brunette, and, after looking into each other’s eyes, she dipped down to the other’s chest.

         His eyes could only follow as the blonde started to unbutton the other’s shirt with her teeth, and he stood mesmerized by the way those heavy breasts would fall to the side with each undone button; still pointing his gun towards them, he dropped the PHS to the floor, fumbling desperately at his belt. To his frustration, she didn’t open the brunette’s shirt all the way; he could barely see the bra clasp, still done, as the blonde kissed and licked a scar on her lover’s chest over and over.

         “Undress her,” he gasped, his voice shaking shamefully as he waved his gun in a weak gesture.

         The blonde simply ignored him, while the brunette looked at him languidly through her eyelashes, her back curving in an almost impossible arch; she had let one of her arms drop, and it swung limply on the stained and cluttered floor below them.

         He finally managed to unbuckle his belt, and quickly yanked his pants’ button open; before he could undo the zipper, though, the brunette’s arm raised with unexpected speed and a gun in her hand; and one, two, three shots were the last he knew.

----------------------

         “I can’t believe we did that,” breathed Cloud, pausing his ministrations to stare at the crumpling body.

         “He deserved it,” growled Tifa, angrily pushing her hips against his hand. He complied with an apologetic smile. “I like the silk,” she continued, her voice turning into a dreamy whisper. “Have to— thanks Aeris. Ah.”

         “Not the killing,” the blond said hurriedly, as if to quickly divert the conversation from possible encouragement of a cross-dressing fetishist. “Just…” he shifted his other arm to better grasp her back. “Teasing him like that. Doing… this stuff in front of him.”

         “What I said,” she stated, still in a dreamy tone. “Um. Ah. Ah. That’s good—”

         “It was embarrassing—”

         “But you’re – ah - grinning,” she pointed out.

         “It was kinda fun,” the young man chuckled. “His reaction and… I dunno. The thrill of it.”

         “The disks—aaahn,” she arched back, sighing, “loose tile… floor under the crate. There—”

         Cloud grinned. “You really hated them, didn’t you?”

         And he yanked her pants down.

-------------------------

         Cloud wasn’t the type to roll his eyes in a battle, but he sure felt like it right now.

         Corneo’s chief of security, or the equivalent to that, seemed to be a halfway competent man, and had blocked all exits; the two had been informed of that fact by a couple of mercenaries Tifa seemed to be friends with, and who had waved them goodbye just a couple of minutes ago. They had also been told that the exits were blocked by a human barrier. Cloud had imagined thirty heavily armed men, at least.

         There were five smirking guys with assorted scrap weapons. Cloud felt cheated.

         Tifa just scratched her head, brows furrowed (whether in thought or annoyance, he couldn’t tell), and stepped up; he felt some uneasy, but recognized it as his own overprotectiveness speaking up, and let it go, turning around to cover her back.

         He found himself face-to-face with ten smirking guys with assorted scrap weapons, standing in a protective ring around an important-looking lackey and none other than a thoroughly terrified Don Corneo, peeking from over the bigger guy’s shoulder.

         “Too much for you to handle, ain’t it?” bellowed the bigger man, and Cloud was momentarily taken a few years back, to when he would stand in attention as Heidegger spoke on and on, gloating their ears off in a mockery of speech. “Running away with your tail between your legs! I’d like to see you strike at the Boss now!”

         Unseen by his meat shield, Corneo shook his head desperately.

         “I could shoot at him, but I don’t have a gun,” Cloud shrugged. “Sorry.”

         “Let’s see if you’ll still be talkin’ that way after we strip you bare and offer you on a plate to the Boss,” sneered the man. Cloud felt his eyelid twitch; they still couldn’t tell he was a guy, and he hadn’t even modulated his voice!

         He heard Tifa snicker at his back, and his anger melted into self-pity.

         “Y-you’re AVALANCHE, right?” Corneo seemed to have gathered enough guts to speak. “Y-you came to kill me!” His voice degenerated into an undignified squeak, and he cowered further behind his guard.

         Cloud just couldn’t hold it in; he saw the droplets of spit flying even before it registered that he was laughing.

         “What?” growled the bigger guy, and Corneo peeked out again.

         “Who said we were after you?” said Tifa, glancing back over Cloud’s shoulder as he tried to control his hilarity. “We don’t need to lift a finger – Shin-ra’s going to do it for us soon enough.”

         “What do you mean!?” Corneo’s squeak was even higher this time, and one could swear he had just jumped out of his pimp-boots.

         “Why should we even tell you?” said Cloud, still wiping tears of mirth.

         “Shouldn’t we get going?” asked Tifa, adjusting her gloves.

         “Yeah, Aeris said she’d bake a carrot cake for you,” agreed Cloud. “…and we have bigger fish to fry,” he added, as an afterthought.

         Tifa smacked her metal knuckles together, and they made an ominous clang as they hit each other. “The fish can wait,” she said, and, faster than any of them could follow, she reached the five-men-wall and put two of them out of commission with a single kick; a punch hit a third, and she felled a fourth after evading a half-assed knife-lunge. A series of headbutts took care of the last, and then she was out.

         Cloud ran backwards until he felt the goons had truly lost the fight in them, and then took off after Tifa in full speed; soon enough, they were climbing the last net fence together.

         “How long do you give the Turks till they get there?” asked Tifa, when they reached the relative safety of the monster-ridden alleyways.

         “Honestly? I’m surprised they weren’t there yet,” Cloud shrugged. “For all we know, there was one disguised as a mercenary there, too, who could be shooting Corneo’s ass right now.”

         “I don’t know if I should pity him or gloat,” said Tifa, slowly. “I don’t know who was searching for our hideout, but they’ll blame him for his lackeys’ incompetence.”

         “Really?” Cloud raised an eyebrow. “I think he deserves to be shot, and Aeris will agree with me, you bet. Dumbass pimp,” he felt his nails dig through the silk glove, and undid his fist, staring at the slightly smeared material; a distant part of his brain forwarded Aeris’ probable reaction to those almost invisible stains on his fingers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not at that moment. “…hope he gets to learn he named the wrong sector before he dies,” he heard himself mutter.

         He glanced at the ruins of Sector 4, visible beyond the collapsed bell tower of Aeris’ church; it was now an immense pile of twisted metal and wires. There hadn’t been anyone they knew in that particular sector, true – but they had all died in vain, and in their place. And it made his blood boil.

         Tifa touched his arm. She hadn’t been there when it happened; all she knew came from the hurried messages they had dared send each other, and the manipulated news. She was angry, she was infuriated, and horrified – it had been Nibelheim again, only without survivors – but the anger she felt couldn’t possibly compare to that of someone who had seen the huge metal plate as it fell…

         Cloud shook himself off, and started making his way towards Aeris’ house, languidly holding Tifa’s wrist. He couldn’t wait to eat some of that carrot cake; Aeris made the best comfort food ever.