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The first sign that Cloud’s life was about to swerve sideways and go completely insane were the flowers.
No, that wasn’t completely correct, was it?
The first sign that something was strange was the way that Tseng had been acting up to the sudden appearance of the flowers. Allowing his eyes to linger on Cloud more than what was strictly necessary for platonic interest, the suggestive comments that could almost be flirting in Tseng’s dry, cultured way, the way that Tseng would actually touch Cloud now, casual and fleeting, when passing him or directing him or handing him something.
Not sure what it was all about, Cloud had honestly started to be convinced that it was some sort of advanced psychological warfare when the flowers came.
There were two bouquets, each equally massive and taking up most of the space on their kitchen table as they were proudly arranged by Tifa in spots of honor.
When Cloud walked through the door, Tifa was fussing at hers slightly while looking at it with shining eyes while she sat at the table.
“This one’s mine.” She said, pointing a hand a little possessively at the yellow and orange flowered bouquet, “That one’s yours.” Pointing to the neighboring bouquet, which was a riot of reds, pinks, whites and purples.
“Who are they from?” Cloud asked, thinking it was pretty odd for someone to send him flowers. Even more so for them to be sending him some at the same time as they got some for Tifa. (Please don’t let it be someone mistaking his and Tifa’s relationship as romantic and asking for a threesome. Again. Living through that situation once had been more than enough for Cloud.)
“They’re from Tseng. Whom I’ve already given permission to, by the way.” Tifa replied with twinkling eyes.
“Permission?” Cloud murmured absently, surveying the flowers as his eyes catalogued them and inwardly translated the meaning of them in his head. Tifa’s bouquet all together meant honest friendship and deep respect. Cloud’s bouquet…
“Tifa.” Cloud began nervously as the potential secret meaning of the flowers clicked together in his mind all at once, “What did you give Tseng permission to do?”
Tifa looked delighted that he’d asked.
“Why, to court you of course!” she answered merrily.
And laughed for a long time at the way he collapsed onto the floor afterwards.
***
Cloud was in Rufus’ office.
Hiding from Tseng.
There was something really very wrong with his life right now.
He should have left after dropping the package on Rufus’ desk. Actually, he really should have just left the package with Tseng, who he’d seen and who was the one to usually accept his packages. But after meeting those eyes, readable for once with their open curiosity, he’d booked it past the man and straight into Rufus’ office, shutting the door behind him. Unable to put up with even that much interaction with the Turk after how flustered the flowers had left him.
Rufus seemed to be having a fun time of it at least, if the amused smirk he was aiming Cloud’s way was any indication.
Wait, had Rufus…
“Rufus,” Cloud began, staring at the man suspiciously, “Did you tell Tseng to-“
The man cut him off with an exasperated roll of his eyes.
“Strife,” Rufus began with an air of patience that made Cloud want to punch him in the face, “As much as you enjoy thinking the worst of me, I assure you that one of my Turks courting you is not in my best interest. Once a Turk has captured their desired mate, they tend to be very, very protective of it. Tseng, I have no doubt, shall exemplify that trait just as he has all the other traits of his job.”
He sounded serious. More importantly, he sounded like he fully expected that Cloud would eventually be captured.
“What if the mate gets away?” Cloud asked.
Rufus burst out laughing while Cloud stared at him a little uncomfortably.
“Oh, Strife, you poor, poor bastard. I would warn you, but I have a feeling that you won’t listen. So listen to this: I have a great deal of faith that Tseng will succeed in this as he has in all of his other endeavors. Excellently.” The man said, still chuckling.
Cloud stiffened nervously, before turning away.
Obviously, Rufus wasn’t going to be helpful, and Cloud was just about done with entertaining him, so he pushed the door open and breezed past Tseng, not even daring to look at the Turk.
He wasn’t running away. Nope. Not a chance of that.
***
It seemed like Tseng was everywhere nowadays.
Five feet away when he was dropping off a delivery, apparently just happening to be in that town at that exact time, catching Cloud’s attention and somehow talking the former mercenary into trying the local cuisine with him. (Cloud had actually checked his bike over for tracking equipment after the second time this had happened, but if there was anything, not even his Soldier senses had been able to find it.) Appearing at the bar, accompanying the rest of his Turks where he hadn’t ever done so before and sitting himself right beside wherever Cloud was, bringing up topics so interesting that Cloud couldn’t help but join him in the conversation. Having a large amount of packages addressed to himself, personally, some of which were actually gifts for Cloud.
Cloud still remembered how the first interaction of those gifts had gone.
“Ah, thank you, Cloud.” Tseng said, eyes heated as they always were nowadays when he was looking at Cloud, appearing as if he desired nothing more than to consume Cloud whole, “But actually, the item in the package is for you.”
“For me?” Cloud asked.
“Mm. You did say that your bike was having a little trouble with its brakes the other day, didn’t you? There are parts to replace them with in there. I believe that I got the correct make, but if I got it wrong you can let me know and I’ll be sure to get replacements.” Tseng replied.
Cloud very seriously doubted that hyper-competent Tseng had gotten the wrong parts, even as he was a little nonplused that Tseng would know such intimate details about Fenrir. It felt personal somehow, as if Tseng had seen right into an intimate part of him and Cloud had never even realized he was looking. Cloud’s bike was custom made by the mercenary himself, after all.
“Tseng, you know I can’t accept these-“ Cloud began.
“Cloud.” Tseng interrupted, “I apologize if I’ve overstepped some boundary, but I promise that it is my absolute pleasure to provide this for you. Please, accept it. For my sake if nothing else.”
And while Cloud had continued to protest, Tseng had firmly and unyieldingly worked to convince him to just accept the gift.
It had been Tseng’s victory, in the end.
As it had been every time after.
A large part of Cloud believed it when Tseng said that it was his pleasure to provide Cloud nice things. The look in his eyes after was always uniquely satisfied, as if he’d fulfilled some inner animal instinct to prove he would be a good mate.
And that- all of that- was what had finally led Cloud here, staring down at the completed holster before him, trying to ignore everything it said that he had made it. He’d wanted to return the favor, repay back some of Tseng’s kindness.
But even he hadn’t realized how far he was going to go.
He knew that the holster for Tseng’s gun had been damaged by a recent monster attack. He knew, too, that it was custom, and that Tseng had mentioned the leatherworker he usually used was currently packed. And to Tseng, Cloud contacting said leatherworker and asking for the design so he could duplicate it would probably be a kind, but ultimately forgettable, favor.
As long as Tseng didn’t know enough about Nibelheim tradition to know what it meant.
The leatherworker had. That’s why he’d been willing to give up the design to a stranger when Cloud told him who it was for and where Cloud was from.
There were a lot of implications to receiving a gift made from leather from a child of Nibelheim, after all.
Every single child born in Nibelheim, before Sephiroth had raged across the town and wrought devastation, had been taught how to tan and work leather. And they’d been taught that for one very specific tradition: if they had romantic interest in someone, they would work and shape and form the leather until it became a useful gift for that person. Something that showed they paid attention to that person’s wants and their needs and were willing to spend time on them. Leather was very sturdy, after all, and it lasted much longer than most other materials. The union’s formed afterward where expected to withstand wear and tear and time, just as the leather did.
And Cloud had just performed that exact same ceremony for Tseng. After Tseng had been openly courting him.
It said more about his feelings for Tseng and the courtship than anything else in the world could have.
After staring at the holster as if it would bite him for several moments longer, Cloud finally picked it up with a sigh and stood from the table.
Tseng had had the courage to give his gifts to Cloud in person.
The least Cloud could do was return the favor.
***
Cloud had made sure to catch Tseng in a moment he was alone to hand over the gift. He had decided to give it in person, but he wasn’t quite willing to do so with onlookers gawking on as he did so.
Even now, when he had Tseng alone, Cloud found himself hesitating. He was avoiding Tseng’s eyes, fidgeting as he looked everywhere but at the Turk, still keenly aware of the way the man was looking at him.
It was with a deep, bracing sigh that Cloud finally held out the wrapped box that he’d placed the holster in.
“Here.” He said, “This is for you. To repay you a little for everything you’ve given me lately.”
Tseng raised a surprised brow.
“You know that I never expected repayment for those things, Cloud.” Tseng murmured as he nonetheless accepted the package, obvious curiosity driving him as he wasted no time in opening it.
When he’d opened the top of the box, he stared for a long, long while.
With a slightly shaking hand, he reached in to almost delicately lift the holster from where it laid within the box.
He knew.
Of course he knew about the tradition. Tseng’s job was to know a great deal about a great deal of things.
Cloud had half turned, ready to bolt as all of his courage abandoned him with a rush, when one of Tseng’s hands shot out to clasp tight around bicep.
When Cloud turned to look at him, Tseng had dropped the box, but the holster was gripped tight in his hand.
“No.” Tseng said with a depth of feeling in his voice, “No, you’re not running from this. Not when you finally… Please, Cloud. Don’t.”
Cloud stopped, feeling both like trapped prey and like he badly wanted to just leap into Tseng’s arms and forget everything else. His mind was all over the place in panic and fear and the sheer strength of the feelings that he hadn’t even realized he was forming for Tseng until it was far too late to stop them.
“Tseng,” he said almost desperately, “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know if this will work.”
“Neither do I, really.” Tseng replied.
He looked nervous, almost as nervous as Cloud felt. But he also looked settled, as if he’d made his decision a long time ago.
“But I’d like to learn how to, if you’re willing to give it a try.” He continued.
And, carefully choreographing his movements, Tseng reached out to gently take Cloud’s hand.
Cloud stared down at it breathlessly for several long moments, before moving his hand to entwine his fingers with Tseng’s.
And when Tseng stepped closer to kiss him, Cloud met him halfway there, too.
If he had to be caught, he guessed that he was glad that it was a trap that he walked willingly into.
It wasn’t so bad, being caught that way.
No. Not bad at all.