[fic] 16candles_fics: Coffee Stains
Series: Luminescence [4/16]
Prompt: 4 - Decaying Conflagration
Title: Coffee Stains
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Rufus Shinra, Tifa Lockhart
Rating: PG13
Summary: A shower. A scent. An understanding.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all of its characters belong to Square-Enix.
Note: When Ai had requested this series, she had specifically told me to shove a shower scene somewhere. There. A shower scene. Minus the NC-17 rating.
Chapter 4: Coffee Stains
“Shower, through that hallway, second door to your right. The towels should be under the sink.”
Just about everywhere she looked inside the large-not to mention, only-master bathroom, it was immaculate white. The marble floor, the decorated tiles, the silk robes, the linen… Even the wicker hamper was white. The exceptions would be the walls, which was in pale ivory color-still a shade of white, her mind stubbornly told her-and the counter, which was black. Everything else that was not white-namely the mirror, the taps and the shower- was chrome.
Even the unit itself, sitting on the 7th floor of a 10-storey building, was painted in neutral colors: white, black or gray. There wasn’t even an artwork or a photograph in sight. And here she was, thinking that rich people always liked art and would buy art, even if the piece looked like a finger-painting handiwork of a three-year-old. If there were any splashes of color, if she had seen splashes of color, they would probably be in subdued tones and solid ones. At least, that was what she could imagine. There wasn’t a hint of blue or green or yellow anywhere. Not even a red and to think that the name Rufus meant red.
It was all constructed to Shinra’s liking and obviously, he didn’t like red. Or bright colors. And to her, it almost seemed like an eerie laboratory or an observation room.
She ran a hand along the smooth marble of the sink and counter, its coolness soothing, her gaze roaming around again. Whether it was out of awe or disbelief, she had no idea. Everything was in order; everything was in place. It was, well, too neat and, in Tifa’s opinion, too dull. No wonder the owner of the place was just as neat and dull.
Still, who was she to complain when said owner of the place had offered her to use his shower as well as some dry clothes albeit without the complacent and welcoming tone?
“You may go ahead and use the bathroom first. I’ll find clothes for you to use.”
He spoke as if he was already expecting a debate on bathroom issues and would rather avoid it by giving way. Besides, where would he find clothes for her anyway? Unless it belonged to the female Turk, which, if ever it was, she would not anymore question as to where he had found it, she highly doubted that Rufus would lend her one of his own.
Again, who was she to complain? “Then again, he could always throw me out anytime.”
The shower was in another corner of the bathroom, separated in a stall surrounded by frosted glass, as was the bathtub which seemed more like a decorative article than anything. And after a few minutes of testing out the water from the shower, Tifa stripped off her soaked clothes, leaving them on the marble floor. She was quite sure that Rufus wouldn’t mind. Not that he’d find out about it anyway as she promised herself to wipe away the water from the floor after her bathroom ritual. She stepped inside the stall under the blast of hot water. Not scalding hot but just right to chase away the chill of the rainwater. The warm shower was a luxury for her that day.
Her eyes then settled on one of the glass ledges along the wall, finding an assortment of toiletries lined up methodically: expensive-looking shampoos and conditioners, liquid soaps, bottles of body wash, perfumed oils and bars of soap. At first, the vanity theory came to play. Until she noticed that most of them, if not all, were still sealed and yet to be opened except for a bottle of shampoo and conditioner and a cream-colored soap.
“Either he didn’t buy these things or they’re emergency provisions,” she murmured to herself, picking up the soap, inhaling its musky scent.
Emergency provisions? Like Rufus Shinra would stock provisions. Who in their right and sane mind would keep soaps and shampoos as emergency provisions anyway?
She now turned her attention to the soap. It definitely belonged to a male. And it definitely belonged to Shinra. It was quite strong and she could feel being intoxicated by the scent. And it smelled almost familiar in a comforting sort of way-
Wait!
She suddenly froze at the sudden thought, her sanguine eyes wide, as she stared at the innocent bar of soap. Why the heck did she even think of that? Why would she even think of that? And the way her brain spoke was so natural like it knew and memorized the scent.
Tifa fought off any other reason except the fact that she might have been sitting too long with him in the car. That was it. There should be nothing more to it.
Several minutes of standing under the warm water, still staring at the soap in her hand and debating hotly with her senses, a loud knock and the sound of the door opening startled her out of her wits. Footsteps announced that someone was there with her and who else could it be other than said owner of the soap and the bathroom? She instinctively stepped back into the shadows created by the wall, grabbing anything that she could use as a weapon, an almost low growl escaping her lips. Had Shinra forgotten that she was still showering, for the love of Holy?
A dry voice reverberated inside the bathroom, startling her again. She swore that her heart was beating so fast and so loud that Shinra might be hearing it also.
“One, I can get you in jail for wasting water, Lockhart. Two, please remember that I would like to use hot water too. And three, the hamper is here for a reason.”
His empty threats and sarcastic reminders barely registered in her fuzzy brain as she stared at the hazy figure from behind the frosted glass door, sauntering around the room without a care in the world. Well, that was, except one. And it hit her quite hard when she saw the figure bending over the floor as if he had dropped something. Realization dawned Tifa and, blushing darkly, she called out to the man who was apparently picking up her fallen articles of clothing.
“H-Hey, I can take care of my clothes,” she told him, trying to sound annoyed. It was her fault, in the first place, for leaving her clothes on the bathroom floor. But still, Rufus Shinra entering the bathroom did not even cross her mind. “You don’t need to-”
“Too late. I have already placed them in the hamper.”
“Shinra, you didn't touch-”
“I dislike mess, Lockhart,” he replied in a matter-of-factly tone, cutting her off without missing a beat. “Oh, and I left the clothes on the counter as I also don’t fancy people walking around in my house clothed in simply a towel.”
And without even waiting for her response, she heard the door opening and closing with a quiet click and footsteps fading as the man walked away. Tifa peered through the space between the jamb and the shower door, pressing her lips together. He was gone. Just like that. And he had the last word once again. She let out a heavy and relieved sigh, leaning sideways on the cool wall, returning the unopened bottle of shampoo back where she had grabbed it.
What, was she thinking that he would attack her all of a sudden? Not that he could, with her reflexes and all, but she should’ve considered first the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, there was just no underlying reason as to why Shinra would take her back to his pad. Well, he didn’t seem to be doing it for any kind of self-gratification using her.
“That idiot. He could’ve knocked, for God’s sake…”
Tifa found him in the kitchen after she was through with her ice-cold shower, in case Shinra decided to bite her head off again for wasting the hot water. He was still dressed in his white suit which had now dried from waiting for her to finish, his back to her, reading what looked like a small packet, oblivious to anything. What it was, she couldn’t really see and she decided to turn her attention to one corner of the kitchen, a passive expression crossing her face.
“If you find the pyjamas a little too big, tell me.”
Tifa looked up at his remark as she watched him take two mugs from the shelf above him, busying himself. She fiddled with the hem of the black silk pyjamas she was wearing, shifting her weight from one leg to another, biting her lower lip. The article of clothing was left on the counter inside the bathroom and if she hadn’t touched it, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it, its color blending with the surface.
“Are they yours?” she asked, looking around the kitchen. Again, everything was white or black or silver.
“Obviously.”
Tifa nodded absently, staring at the marble floor. Obviously. Who else would be staying in the unit anyway, aside from him? Did she expect the Turks would stay in the same house with him? Well, she did at first but now, it seemed like a ridiculous notion.
“Coffee?”
His voice startled her again and she realized that she was gaping at him like an idiot for an entire minute. She should really tell him off about that. Tifa met his smirk as he placed a mug on the breakfast table in front of her then leaned back against the kitchen shelf. He seemed to have abandoned reading whatever it was he was holding earlier.
Tifa glanced down at the mug, her slim digits wrapping around the handle hesitantly. The strong aroma of the beverage was overwhelming.
“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” he spoke again then paused, sipping from his own mug. “The Turks aren’t here to clean up if I kill you.”
She stared at her drink, a million questions running through her mind. But of all the questions she had wanted to ask him, questions that had waited two years before she was given the chance to ask him, she just had to ask the one that she found most ridiculous, not to mention the one that she found most unnecessary.
“You know how to make coffee?”
Shinra gave her a stare that clearly told her that he was not amused. At all. He said nothing for a moment, sipping his coffee broodingly. “Again, I am flattered that you see me in such light, Lockhart. You and Reno and the rest of the Turks.”
“From whom did you learn?”
“Tseng. He makes good coffee.”
She nodded again after a moment’s taste of the dark beverage. It was indeed good, a little bitter on the side but Shinra probably liked his coffee black anyway. Again, she wasn’t one to complain. She was in his home, an unwilling and uninvited guest. Although she still wasn’t sure if Shinra had invited her out of kindness or out of compensation for nearly killing her. Plus the drink, just like the shower, made her feel at home again, calming her senses down.
Tifa lowered her mug on the glass table, the china clinking softy. “Shinra, why are you doing this-”
“I don’t understand why you are asking me ‘why’.” His eyes were closed peacefully, his own mug settled near his mouth. “Are you a prosecutor now, Lockhart?”
“I was just asking-”
His blue eyes flashed open and he gazed at her in a seemingly thoughtful manner over the rim of his cup. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked you a few questions as well?”
Tifa looked away, her right hand rising to grasp her left arm, a sign that she wasn’t ready for any interrogation yet. Especially one from Shinra. There was nothing to talk about. At least, not with him.
“How unfair it is, for me to answer your inquiries when you refused to answer mine,” came his remark to her unspoken reply.
She heard him sigh quietly when she said nothing in response then felt him brush past her, leaving his mug right beside hers on the table.
“I apologize if I have frightened you earlier. I should’ve knocked, I know.”
Tifa looked up and over her shoulder at the quiet comment made by the blond. An apology? From Rufus Shinra, of all people? And not only did Rufus make such a remark but he almost sounded like he had admitted that he was wrong as well. For once. To quote Reno, it was definitely one of those nights. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing didn't make too much difference to her.
“If you’re hungry, you’re free to prepare anything in this kitchen. If you need anything, I’ll be in the shower. And if you wish to re-enact what I had done, I assure you that I will not complain.”
“I’m not hungry. And there's not a force on this planet that would make me enter the bathroom while you're there.”
Rufus waved his hand at her and as she looked over his shoulder to gaze at him, she could almost see a small curve on his lips. “Well, then, feel free to stand there for as long as you want.”
Full chapter guide
Prompt: 4 - Decaying Conflagration
Title: Coffee Stains
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Rufus Shinra, Tifa Lockhart
Rating: PG13
Summary: A shower. A scent. An understanding.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all of its characters belong to Square-Enix.
Note: When Ai had requested this series, she had specifically told me to shove a shower scene somewhere. There. A shower scene. Minus the NC-17 rating.
Chapter 4: Coffee Stains
“Shower, through that hallway, second door to your right. The towels should be under the sink.”
Just about everywhere she looked inside the large-not to mention, only-master bathroom, it was immaculate white. The marble floor, the decorated tiles, the silk robes, the linen… Even the wicker hamper was white. The exceptions would be the walls, which was in pale ivory color-still a shade of white, her mind stubbornly told her-and the counter, which was black. Everything else that was not white-namely the mirror, the taps and the shower- was chrome.
Even the unit itself, sitting on the 7th floor of a 10-storey building, was painted in neutral colors: white, black or gray. There wasn’t even an artwork or a photograph in sight. And here she was, thinking that rich people always liked art and would buy art, even if the piece looked like a finger-painting handiwork of a three-year-old. If there were any splashes of color, if she had seen splashes of color, they would probably be in subdued tones and solid ones. At least, that was what she could imagine. There wasn’t a hint of blue or green or yellow anywhere. Not even a red and to think that the name Rufus meant red.
It was all constructed to Shinra’s liking and obviously, he didn’t like red. Or bright colors. And to her, it almost seemed like an eerie laboratory or an observation room.
She ran a hand along the smooth marble of the sink and counter, its coolness soothing, her gaze roaming around again. Whether it was out of awe or disbelief, she had no idea. Everything was in order; everything was in place. It was, well, too neat and, in Tifa’s opinion, too dull. No wonder the owner of the place was just as neat and dull.
Still, who was she to complain when said owner of the place had offered her to use his shower as well as some dry clothes albeit without the complacent and welcoming tone?
“You may go ahead and use the bathroom first. I’ll find clothes for you to use.”
He spoke as if he was already expecting a debate on bathroom issues and would rather avoid it by giving way. Besides, where would he find clothes for her anyway? Unless it belonged to the female Turk, which, if ever it was, she would not anymore question as to where he had found it, she highly doubted that Rufus would lend her one of his own.
Again, who was she to complain? “Then again, he could always throw me out anytime.”
The shower was in another corner of the bathroom, separated in a stall surrounded by frosted glass, as was the bathtub which seemed more like a decorative article than anything. And after a few minutes of testing out the water from the shower, Tifa stripped off her soaked clothes, leaving them on the marble floor. She was quite sure that Rufus wouldn’t mind. Not that he’d find out about it anyway as she promised herself to wipe away the water from the floor after her bathroom ritual. She stepped inside the stall under the blast of hot water. Not scalding hot but just right to chase away the chill of the rainwater. The warm shower was a luxury for her that day.
Her eyes then settled on one of the glass ledges along the wall, finding an assortment of toiletries lined up methodically: expensive-looking shampoos and conditioners, liquid soaps, bottles of body wash, perfumed oils and bars of soap. At first, the vanity theory came to play. Until she noticed that most of them, if not all, were still sealed and yet to be opened except for a bottle of shampoo and conditioner and a cream-colored soap.
“Either he didn’t buy these things or they’re emergency provisions,” she murmured to herself, picking up the soap, inhaling its musky scent.
Emergency provisions? Like Rufus Shinra would stock provisions. Who in their right and sane mind would keep soaps and shampoos as emergency provisions anyway?
She now turned her attention to the soap. It definitely belonged to a male. And it definitely belonged to Shinra. It was quite strong and she could feel being intoxicated by the scent. And it smelled almost familiar in a comforting sort of way-
Wait!
She suddenly froze at the sudden thought, her sanguine eyes wide, as she stared at the innocent bar of soap. Why the heck did she even think of that? Why would she even think of that? And the way her brain spoke was so natural like it knew and memorized the scent.
Tifa fought off any other reason except the fact that she might have been sitting too long with him in the car. That was it. There should be nothing more to it.
Several minutes of standing under the warm water, still staring at the soap in her hand and debating hotly with her senses, a loud knock and the sound of the door opening startled her out of her wits. Footsteps announced that someone was there with her and who else could it be other than said owner of the soap and the bathroom? She instinctively stepped back into the shadows created by the wall, grabbing anything that she could use as a weapon, an almost low growl escaping her lips. Had Shinra forgotten that she was still showering, for the love of Holy?
A dry voice reverberated inside the bathroom, startling her again. She swore that her heart was beating so fast and so loud that Shinra might be hearing it also.
“One, I can get you in jail for wasting water, Lockhart. Two, please remember that I would like to use hot water too. And three, the hamper is here for a reason.”
His empty threats and sarcastic reminders barely registered in her fuzzy brain as she stared at the hazy figure from behind the frosted glass door, sauntering around the room without a care in the world. Well, that was, except one. And it hit her quite hard when she saw the figure bending over the floor as if he had dropped something. Realization dawned Tifa and, blushing darkly, she called out to the man who was apparently picking up her fallen articles of clothing.
“H-Hey, I can take care of my clothes,” she told him, trying to sound annoyed. It was her fault, in the first place, for leaving her clothes on the bathroom floor. But still, Rufus Shinra entering the bathroom did not even cross her mind. “You don’t need to-”
“Too late. I have already placed them in the hamper.”
“Shinra, you didn't touch-”
“I dislike mess, Lockhart,” he replied in a matter-of-factly tone, cutting her off without missing a beat. “Oh, and I left the clothes on the counter as I also don’t fancy people walking around in my house clothed in simply a towel.”
And without even waiting for her response, she heard the door opening and closing with a quiet click and footsteps fading as the man walked away. Tifa peered through the space between the jamb and the shower door, pressing her lips together. He was gone. Just like that. And he had the last word once again. She let out a heavy and relieved sigh, leaning sideways on the cool wall, returning the unopened bottle of shampoo back where she had grabbed it.
What, was she thinking that he would attack her all of a sudden? Not that he could, with her reflexes and all, but she should’ve considered first the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, there was just no underlying reason as to why Shinra would take her back to his pad. Well, he didn’t seem to be doing it for any kind of self-gratification using her.
“That idiot. He could’ve knocked, for God’s sake…”
Tifa found him in the kitchen after she was through with her ice-cold shower, in case Shinra decided to bite her head off again for wasting the hot water. He was still dressed in his white suit which had now dried from waiting for her to finish, his back to her, reading what looked like a small packet, oblivious to anything. What it was, she couldn’t really see and she decided to turn her attention to one corner of the kitchen, a passive expression crossing her face.
“If you find the pyjamas a little too big, tell me.”
Tifa looked up at his remark as she watched him take two mugs from the shelf above him, busying himself. She fiddled with the hem of the black silk pyjamas she was wearing, shifting her weight from one leg to another, biting her lower lip. The article of clothing was left on the counter inside the bathroom and if she hadn’t touched it, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it, its color blending with the surface.
“Are they yours?” she asked, looking around the kitchen. Again, everything was white or black or silver.
“Obviously.”
Tifa nodded absently, staring at the marble floor. Obviously. Who else would be staying in the unit anyway, aside from him? Did she expect the Turks would stay in the same house with him? Well, she did at first but now, it seemed like a ridiculous notion.
“Coffee?”
His voice startled her again and she realized that she was gaping at him like an idiot for an entire minute. She should really tell him off about that. Tifa met his smirk as he placed a mug on the breakfast table in front of her then leaned back against the kitchen shelf. He seemed to have abandoned reading whatever it was he was holding earlier.
Tifa glanced down at the mug, her slim digits wrapping around the handle hesitantly. The strong aroma of the beverage was overwhelming.
“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” he spoke again then paused, sipping from his own mug. “The Turks aren’t here to clean up if I kill you.”
She stared at her drink, a million questions running through her mind. But of all the questions she had wanted to ask him, questions that had waited two years before she was given the chance to ask him, she just had to ask the one that she found most ridiculous, not to mention the one that she found most unnecessary.
“You know how to make coffee?”
Shinra gave her a stare that clearly told her that he was not amused. At all. He said nothing for a moment, sipping his coffee broodingly. “Again, I am flattered that you see me in such light, Lockhart. You and Reno and the rest of the Turks.”
“From whom did you learn?”
“Tseng. He makes good coffee.”
She nodded again after a moment’s taste of the dark beverage. It was indeed good, a little bitter on the side but Shinra probably liked his coffee black anyway. Again, she wasn’t one to complain. She was in his home, an unwilling and uninvited guest. Although she still wasn’t sure if Shinra had invited her out of kindness or out of compensation for nearly killing her. Plus the drink, just like the shower, made her feel at home again, calming her senses down.
Tifa lowered her mug on the glass table, the china clinking softy. “Shinra, why are you doing this-”
“I don’t understand why you are asking me ‘why’.” His eyes were closed peacefully, his own mug settled near his mouth. “Are you a prosecutor now, Lockhart?”
“I was just asking-”
His blue eyes flashed open and he gazed at her in a seemingly thoughtful manner over the rim of his cup. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked you a few questions as well?”
Tifa looked away, her right hand rising to grasp her left arm, a sign that she wasn’t ready for any interrogation yet. Especially one from Shinra. There was nothing to talk about. At least, not with him.
“How unfair it is, for me to answer your inquiries when you refused to answer mine,” came his remark to her unspoken reply.
She heard him sigh quietly when she said nothing in response then felt him brush past her, leaving his mug right beside hers on the table.
“I apologize if I have frightened you earlier. I should’ve knocked, I know.”
Tifa looked up and over her shoulder at the quiet comment made by the blond. An apology? From Rufus Shinra, of all people? And not only did Rufus make such a remark but he almost sounded like he had admitted that he was wrong as well. For once. To quote Reno, it was definitely one of those nights. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing didn't make too much difference to her.
“If you’re hungry, you’re free to prepare anything in this kitchen. If you need anything, I’ll be in the shower. And if you wish to re-enact what I had done, I assure you that I will not complain.”
“I’m not hungry. And there's not a force on this planet that would make me enter the bathroom while you're there.”
Rufus waved his hand at her and as she looked over his shoulder to gaze at him, she could almost see a small curve on his lips. “Well, then, feel free to stand there for as long as you want.”
Full chapter guide