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His mother had never taken him to the beach.
Nibelheim was situated by the ocean, but the water wasn’t suitable to swim in. Unless you wanted to be speared by jagged rocks and tumbled around by the currents. The mountains themselves blocked out sunlight and cast dull, coldness over the village for majority of the year, so a seaside jaunt was never in the cards.
They had the river, but only a small, shallow section, heavily monitored by adults in the summer months.
Cloud had never tasted the freedom of a place like Costa Del Sol, where the water was warm for wading, and crystal clear. Where drinks overflowed and dangerous riptides were of no concern. Most people spent their days here burning their skin, playing carnival games, and drunkenly navigating on wheelies.
So… when in Costa del Sol, do as the locals do. He was starting to like it here.
Cloud could feel the first cocktail of the day warming and loosening up his limbs. And the sun prickling pink at his cheeks. The others had already rushed down to the beach, without towels or sunscreen or a care in the world. Swimsuit clad, making promises of Cosmo Canyon shots and sandcastles.
They all needed this. A breather before whatever the Temple of the Ancients might bring, a place of daunting mythos and untold dangers.
Cloud could abandon the chase for the day, trade in his sword for a lei, the fighting for a friendly game of beach volleyball.
But that damn sun…
He wasn’t exactly used to baring himself like this, his naked shoulders tingling, ripe for developing freckles later on. But if he could handle gashes and scrapes, he could handle a burn. The others though? Aerith having never stepped foot out of a shadowy Midgar, Tifa with her soft, creamy complexion…
Surely there would be some sunscreen at the Inn’s gift shop. Comped free of charge, if Johnny knew what was good for him.
Cloud turned himself around, scooting back through the beaten path to the newly renovated Seaside Inn, courtesy of Cloud and the other’s begrudging assistance — meaning, free labor. Still, despite his baseline annoyance with the redhead and every one of his clones, props given where props are due: the place cleaned up nice.
At least now no more rotting driftwood floors, or holes in the roof’s thatching. And now, steady water pressure — great news to Tifa who had been itching for a long, warm shower.
Speaking of, and just in time to halt his dirty thoughts, Cloud caught a glimpse of tied up, black hair from the second floor balcony of the inn. Tifa, wearing the outfit forever seared into his memory, shuffling back into her room. Curiosity piqued, he had nearly forgotten his objective of shaking Johnny down for some sunscreen, and instead let himself be pulled up the stairs for a closer look.
Tifa took notice and waved him over, her smile somehow the warmest thing at the moment — forget the sun and sands and his own flushed face.
And the swimsuit, that damn swimsuit. Cloud happily refocused on her eyes and face, lest his gaze wander too noticeably on the ruffles that flounced with every approaching step.
“Looking for this?” She teased, bottle of sunscreen in hand before tossing it his way. He thanked his subconscious reflexes for the catch, his attention and motor skills instead diverted to the beauty before him. Solely focused on the task of forming a complex thought that wasn’t just: Tifa. In a swimsuit.
He loved her outfit on the first visit and loved it even more now, perhaps feeling a bit bolder to now let his gaze linger, especially after recent events.
How effortless she looked with her breezy button down, open to the world, revealing the sheen of her bikini top and straps that were working overtime. How alluring she was in her low rise shorts, button left open and tempting, the strings of her bikini bottoms poking out, teasing…
Things were a bit different this time around at Costa Del Sol. Too much has happened between then and now. Some bad times in Gongaga, much better times at the Gold Saucer. The most notable and dizzying being… a kiss.
Well, more than one. Kissing as an activity. Making out, even?
He’d just summarize it as this: Fireworks.
So things were much different. The way the sunshine felt, the way the cocktail sloshed around in his stomach, even the way Tifa leaned up against her room door, gaze fluttering around him. Everything was much stronger, much more charged.
Would explain why the sun was getting to him in the first place.
“Thought you’d already be in the water by now.” He offered meekly, unsure where to steer the conversation.
“Would love to be, but… safety first.”
Cloud shook the bottle in his hand, nervously. “Couldn’t make Yuffie run back and grab some?”
Tifa laughed. “She’s a little preoccupied with turning Aerith into a sand mermaid.”
“Hm. Important work.”
“Very!”
He smirked. She giggled. The conversation stalling yet tension building, eyes locked on each other for a second too long. One powerful, scandalous, aching second. Just like back in Gongaga, with hooded eyes, noses nearly touching…
“So…” Cloud popped their little bubble, presenting the sunscreen forward. “You still need this?”
“Got everywhere but my back.”
Cloud could’ve let himself short-circuit at the thought of Tifa slathering milky sunscreen all over her body, every curve, fingers spread on each mountain and valley. He could let himself swim in these thoughts, to be fed by them, to envy the lucky bastard whose palms would run up her spine.
Or, he could get out of his head and embrace the unbelievable reality.
Which is that Tifa’s hand, tucked behind her, reached for the door knob. One tiny twist of brass, one demure step back, and now the door was cracked open, Tifa caught at the entrance.
He wouldn’t make her ask out loud, not again at least. The empty room, and her coy, fluttering eyelashes was invitation enough.
Am I getting ahead of myself?
“I could help.”
He braced for her reaction, posture pulled up tight.
“You could help.”
Cloud followed her into the room, closed the door behind him.
“The others…” Tifa hesitated, the breeze rolling in from open windows billowing her open shirt. “I promised I’d bring this back for them.”
“The others can wait.”
The serenity of the moment nearly shook his resolve, the proposition had him dumbstruck. All he could hear were the palms shimmying in the wind, the chatter downstairs in the lobby, his own troublesome heart.
All he could smell was the coconut emanating from the sunscreen bottle, which he has no memory of opening.
And all he could see was Tifa, her shirt sliding off her shoulders and onto the floor. Her fingers at the back of her neck, carefully untying the bow of her bikini straps. Her arms crossed at her chest, reserved, keeping the tiny bit of fabric in place. And those eyes… those damn eyes, pulling him forward.
Really, he was starting to love it here.
Maybe they’d stay a while.
----------------------------------------------------
Yuffie trotted up the stairs of the Seaside Inn, shaking the sand out of her hair with each wobbled step.
She was annoyed and she’d let the whole world hear it, especially Tifa, who should have been back with the sunscreen by now.
Just when it was her turn to become a sand mermaid with the most bodacious bod… she was rudely yanked from the beach by Barret (blegh!) to go retrieve Tifa and the sunscreen.
“Where’s Tifa?” Yuffie mocked the man’s words in a goofy voice, even if she agreed with him. It was strange for the usually responsible woman to take so long for such a simple task. And… her and Aerith were starting to look like lobsters.
Cloud was also MIA, but he was probably off being a loner loser somewhere, so who really cared.
Yuffie giggled at her own insult while banging at Tifa’s door. Well, more like annoyingly drumming on it with both hands.
“Tifaaaaa, the sunscreen. Remember?”
No response.
“Helllloooooo!” Cue more banging, more whining.
“You napping or something? Wake up!” She pressed an ear to the flat wood, picking up the sound of movement: some rustling, feet shuffling, hushed whispers?
Yuffie huffed dramatically, loud enough to be overheard. Tifa was ignoring her! Hiding from her, even!
Then she heard a cough, a suspiciously manly cough, and before she could interrogate this thought, she was whipping open the door with a pounced stance and accusatory pointed finger.
Along with a whole grandiose speech prepared, had it not been for the shocking sight before her. Her knees buckled.
There was Tifa, scandalously half-dressed, her arms shielding The Big Beautiful Girls™…
And then there was Cloud ‘dumbshit’ Strife™ beside her (who was in fact, not off being a loser loner) hands fumbling with a bikini top. Tifa’s bikini top, to be precise, the strings looking tangled and stubborn.
Cloud’s guttural command to “Get out!” and Tifa’s embarrassed cry of her name washed over Yuffie as she squealed, shielded her eyes, peaked through her fingers, and squealed again.
She instinctively hightailed it away, bumbling down the Inn’s wooden stairs, nearly carving holes in the steps with how hard she ran. When she dared turn back, she caught Cloud’s glare from above, his big, doofy sword suddenly in his grip.
She only caught the tail end of his threats and Tifa’s panicked reasoning, as she was booking it downhill and back to the beach, her wild giggling sure to haunt Cloud forever.