Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Two Steps Forward, One Step Back ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter Eleven

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

 

Taking aim, second nature to such a practiced gunman, Irvine pulled the trigger with immeasurable precision in his single finger.

 

Violet eyes widened in shock as the bullet was deflected with an almost violent flash of neon yellow and pinging sound of his ammo hitting a magical barrier.

 

“I'm good,” declared a cheerful voice from nearby.

 

Cocking his head, adjusting the black hat to ride further back, Irvine cast a sidelong glance to the copper haired young woman who'd joined him at the firing range. He was not in the mood. His morning had been shit, starting off with a wonderful display of just how fucking great it would be to have Squall and just how far away such a thing was to ever happening.

 

Selphie sensed something stirring beneath the surface in the gunman. And she didn't need to see the mass of bullet holes in the opposite end of the firing range to clue her in. They were going to have to find some form of magical bullets that could be replenished without burning gil left and right. When Irvine wanted to, he could use up a years supply of ammunition, none of which would be wasted on missed targets, but practicing could only go so far.

 

“I'm shootin' babe,” the auburn haired man drawled, only making an effort to hide his bad mood because he cared for Selphie more than anyone else who might have ambled in.

 

“Yeah, and I totally mastered casting a spell without you seeing. Am I good or what?” she cheered happily.

 

Irvine saw beyond the spell caster's pride and detected her tone of consoling.

 

Heaving a sigh, Selphie stepped closer, pointedly taking structured steps and twirling as though a child mimicking a very crude form of ballet. “Squall came to me. He's looking for you.”

 

Lowering his gun completely, Irvine regarded the short woman with his full attention. “What's he want?” he questioned trying not to sound as alarmed as he felt.

 

“Said he wanted to talk,” she declared incredulously. “Imagine, Squally wanting to talk. He was all nervous at first, like he was trying to keep a juicy and embarrassing secret.”

 

“Oh?” the gunman intoned at the prompting tone of excitement given by the green-eyed bundle of energy.

 

“You sly dog you,” she cheered with a punch to Irvine's shoulder. “You kissed him. He's totally out of his element Irvy, you really shouldn't have done that.” Her tone was amicably reprimanding, even if she was practically screaming inside.

 

“Did he tell you that?”

 

With a grin, she admitted, “Only after I beat it out of him.”

 

“So, what's he want exactly?” he questioned, figuring that if she'd pried information out of the brunet, then she must know what he wanted to talk about.

 

Her grin widened. “He feels bad. Something about over reacting because he was so surprised, blah, blah, blah. He basically wants to try and clear things up, mostly apologize for punching you.” She giggled a bit, “Nice bruise by the way.”

 

Even after applying ointment, the bruise on his left eye was fairly noticeable. It took him a moment to realize that it was Selphie he was talking to. His eyes searched her face, unable to detect any false emotion there. Was this not the wonderful young woman who professed her love only a short while ago? How could she stand there and play the go between, seemingly unaffected by it all?

 

Still watching her keenly for any trace of hurt, he asked, “Did you tell him where I am?”

 

“I couldn't, I just found you myself. I did promise to let him know if I found out, but I wanted to give you a heads up first.”

 

Swallowing his uncertainty, Irvine spoke quietly, “I saw them this morning.”

 

Brows raised almost comically, Selphie shuffled her booted feet. “Saw who?”

 

“Seifer,” he spat the name with loathing distain, “text me from Squall's phone. The bastard wanted me to see. Hyne Selph I don't know what I should be thinking. I mean, it's not just me right? Those two claiming to be in love is pretty fucked up right?”

 

Selphie's eyes widened. “You saw them having sex?” she hissed with jealousy.

 

Irvine frowned momentarily, replaying for the millionth time images of a naked Squall. Granted, he'd only seen the Commander from behind, but Hyne what a sight. Such pale and smooth skin that shifted beautifully over the toned muscles beneath. That slender back moved quite a lot, he recalled the seductive way the Commander's muscles contracted and spine arched while driving that perfectly shaped butt against impaling fingers. It was ruined by the fact that Seifer Almasy was also in the picture, the fucking bastard.

 

“Squall's bottom, isn't he?” Selphie queried with no trace of shame or reserve for the topic.

 

Irvine coughed, managing to choke on air for the outrageous comment.

 

“Oh, I knew it. Did you get any pictures?”

 

“No!” Irvine half shouted, “Why exactly is it okay for you to spy on Squall when it's inappropriate in all other instances? I don't see you following Zell and Greta around with a camera.” He both resented and appreciated the fact that Selphie was so carefree about the matter. On one hand he had a partner in crime, someone who was almost as avidly interested in Squall's sex life as he was. On the other hand, he couldn't manage to feel so guilt free about it and resented her for it.

 

“That's cause Squally is more interesting and the fact that he's getting banged by Seifer is like all the toppings to the sundae. Don't get me wrong Irvy, I know you hate it, but so long as Squall stays all lovey-dovey with Seifer, then I still have a chance with you.”

 

“He's not lovey-dovey,” Irvine hissed vehemently, averting his eyes as he saw a pained expression in the shorter girl's eyes. “I don't care what Squall says, he's not in love. You don't fall in love with someone you spent your whole life hating. I'm telling you, Squall's gay and only needed someone to use that he wouldn't feel guilty about using.”

 

“Irvine, please, I'm begging you. Don't become delusional. You know that's not true.”

 

Briefly, Irvine flashed back on the time when he'd caught sight of the pair in Ragnarok's bathroom after Seifer returned from taking care of Epson. A white knuckled Squall clinging to the ex-knight as though the fate of the world depended on never letting go. Was that also for the sake of sex? Even he had been swayed upon witnessing it.

 

“I'm not delusional,” he affirmed more to himself than to Selphie.

 

Raising his firearm he loosed yet another few rounds in quick succession.

 

Selphie stared at the cowboy's profile with stark green eyes, unflinching at each loud sound that pounded out in each shot. Was nothing in her life ever simple? What about Irvine's life? Was this a result of his change in character? If that were the case, then was it not her fault?

 

Maybe she should talk with Squall, sit down and lay it all out for the oblivious soul. Quistis' advice on the matter was heart felt and sound, but there was no point in trying to make Irvine jealous when he wouldn't even look her way anymore.

 

Selphie cast a quick glance towards the wall beyond the sectioned window Irvine was shooting past. Eyes narrowed, she forced herself to not stare. Three misses. Three bullets, one of which wasn't even close to the center. Irvine never missed, ever.

 

“I'll go get him,” she whispered abruptly and trotted away, her step less bouncy than usual.

 

Irvine remained posed, gun aloft and still aimed, but out of rounds. Breathing heavily, his nostrils flared. His violet eyes didn't even register the wildly off centered marks.

 

“What the hells wrong with me?” he cursed under his breath. Tearing his unseeing eyes away, he stared after Selphie's trail, the vacant doorway nearby. What was he doing his little pilot?

 

Twenty minutes later, Irvine sat crouched against the wall opposite the firing booths, idly staring at the carpeted floor. His hands hung lamely between slightly parted and bent knees while his head fell downcast. Every so often he'd take a swing from a sleek sandalwood flask. He wasn't a big drinker, but had never passed up the opportunity or excuse. A few more sips and he'd be responsible for declaring himself unfit for holding a loaded weapon. It was strong stuff, not meant to be taken in such depressing consistency.

 

Irvine heard the almost non-existent sound of Squall stepping along the floor. In an area meant to muffle noises, it was intentional that the Commander's boots gave a soft thud, announcing his presence to a seemingly absorbed cowboy.

 

Squall didn't speak. Though it looked like the gunman might be smashed, he doubted that was the case.

 

Scattered thoughts flew through the pale brunet's mind. Selphie had spoken with him, though he'd likened it to pleading. He never claimed to be a good friend, at least not in a social sense, but he did care about them. He'd always cared for them, even if he didn't quite remember knowing them since he was little. Caring was what made him feel so bad at the moment. He'd completely overlooked Irvine.

 

He'd been putting off talking with the gunman for his own sake, being morbidly embarrassed and not having a clue what to say. All the while, he'd given no consideration to how Irvine might feel. Selfish and oblivious were two ways to describe how he'd acted for the past few weeks. Too absorbed in the hidden world that existed between himself and Seifer to even notice anything going on outside of it.

 

Squall stood for a while, pointedly not shifting simply to prove his attentiveness to the situation.

 

Irvine stared for a good five minutes at Squall's feet, not cognitively seeing the standard black boots that disappeared beneath baggy blue jeans. Eventually he raised his head, letting his eyes trail up the lean figure. It was a shame that Squall owned jeans, since the leather did so much more to outline his slim hips and tight butt. For that matter, it was shame that Squall wasn't facing the other direction.

 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Squall realized he was at least an hour too early to be having any conversations with Irvine. He needed more time to think, more time to register Selphie's words.

 

Out of his element, Squall was beyond struggling, he was desperate and beginning to feel a nervousness that surpassed what he'd felt upon entering Ultimecia's castle. It was ridiculous, but he'd truly rather face an army of angry rioters or an evil sorceress as opposed to holding any conversation that even remotely dabbled into the world of a friend's sexual attraction to himself.

 

Settling for the simplest starter, he apologized, “I'm sorry,” and just in case Irvine still couldn't feel the nasty bruise on his face, he added, “for your eye.”

 

With a sexy grin that had melted many a woman's heart, Irvine finished his slow raking gaze and stared into solemn gray-blue eyes. The abused bottom lip was testament to how nervous Squall was feeling, but he could care less since the action only turned him on. He wanted to be the one abusing that lip. Hyne, he wanted to be abusing so many more parts of Squall right now.

 

“S'not a problem,” he drawled, perhaps embellishing a little slur just to make it seem like he was drunk. Though he was actually only a tiny bit tipsy, Squall didn't know how much. So if this discussion took a turn for the worse, he could blame it on the booze.

 

Pocketing the flask in an inner breast pocket of his brown leather duster, Irvine unfurled his long legs and languidly stood up to his full height. He towered over Squall, or at least it felt that way. In reality it was only a few inches. He towered over Selphie, but it felt the same with the Commander.

 

With dry sarcasm, the gunman questioned, “Where is your good sir knight?” The words almost echoed from the dream he'd had the other night.

 

It took Squall a moment to answer. “I wouldn't know,” he spoke evenly. Inwardly he felt a little ruffled over the matter, but Irvine didn't know of his argument with Seifer over what the meeting with Raijin and Fujin was about.

 

Irvine went rigid, eyes staring in disbelief. He wanted to pinch himself. It must be a dream. He was almost certain he was awake though.

 

Frowning, Squall watched Irvine's eyes go wide and became confused. Was it so surprising that he was here without Seifer? He opened his mouth to reply that Seifer didn't follow him everywhere, but the gunman swiftly reached a hand out and pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips. Surprised and affronted, Squall took an involuntary step back, but he remained silent.

 

If this were a dream, then Irvine did not want Squall to say anything that hadn't been in the last one. And if it weren't a dream, then he still felt the same way, because then maybe it'd bare the same result. There was no table with half cleaned gun parts on it, but he could make do with the floor so long as it involved a naked brunet.

 

Unintentionally, Squall shot the gunman a harsh glare. It was instinctive, given the circumstances they'd last met under. A single kiss was seemingly petty to make such a big deal over, but according to Selphie, Irvine was seriously hung up over him, which made a kiss a lot more than it really was.

 

Irvine was grounded by the sheer sharpness to suddenly steely eyes. He wasn't dreaming. That cold shiver that came with staring into dangerously cold eyes was an effect that had to be experienced in the real world. A dream Squall could not conjure such fierceness.

 

Squall dropped his eyes quickly, but obviously not soon enough. He hadn't intended to make Irvine any less of a friend. The last thing he wanted was to create a cavernous rift. He had very few friends, and didn't exactly intend on making any new ones. So, the least he could do was not scare away the old.

 

Taking a deep breath, Squall decided that he'd be able to get through this if he constantly reminded himself that it was for the sake of not losing a friend. Biting the bullet, he dove into the unknown world of setting boundaries and explaining his feelings. Perhaps this would be practice for a less detailed overview of his relationship with Seifer to the press.

 

“What's between Seifer and myself is not what you think,” he began.

 

Irvine cleared his throat to acknowledge that he was listening. Though if Squall looked up, the brunet would notice that his eyes were attentive.

 

“I'm not….” Brows furrowed, Squall tried to remember the exact insinuation Irvine had made, “I'm not using Seifer.”

 

“Would you admit it if you really were?” the gunman questioned with patronizing incredulity.

 

Gritting his teeth, Squall lift his gaze and stared evenly into violet eyes. Since when did being with Seifer change who he was? “If I say I'm not using him, that means I'm not using him.” Each word was spoken with meticulous restraint. Under his cold façade, he did not have the patience that everyone seemed to think came along with his introverted nature.

 

“Yes sir,” Irvine conceded with a mock salute.

 

“Just how drunk are you?” Squall questioned with rising anger. It wasn't like he was forcing these words for himself.

 

“Not nearly drunk enough,” Irvine declared. He could already tell where this was heading. Squall was going to once again affirm his love for the bastard knight and leave him high and dry. Trying to seduce the Commander at this point was like resigning himself to castration.

 

“Irvine, just what sort of relationship do you see us having?” Squall asked bluntly, throwing caution and tiptoeing to the wind. Might as well get right to the point.

 

“I see us having a rather fun time together,” the auburn haired man drawled with cocky grin.

 

Squall blanched at the gunman's expression. Being cocky was Seifer's forte, not Irvine's. “Irvine, I'm not your toy truck.”

 

“That was Zell's truck,” he corrected.

 

“Whatever,” the brunet dismissed. “The point is that while Seifer and I threw punches, you two were always running to Matron because one of you had something and the other wanted it. We're adults now, and you have no interest in men.”

 

“But you do,” Irvine affirmed, “Is that why Rinoa left?”

 

“Fuck Irvine!” Squall shouted, losing his temper. “Stop changing the subject. Rinoa has nothing to do with this. I like Seifer, penis or no penis.”

 

Blinking, Irvine replayed the Commander's words in his head before laughing.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Squall blushed slightly while Irvine laughed at him. Rolling his eyes, he waited for the gunman to stop. “I'm glad you find it amusing,” he muttered.

 

Once he was collected again, Irvine strode towards the cubicle area he'd been shooting from. Leaning against the sidewall, he asked, “So what were all those years of constant fighting about? Oh yeah, let's not forget when you tried to kill each other in the war.”

 

“That was,” Squall began, but fell silent when he remembered that even he hadn't figured out the exact answer. Between himself and the handsome blond knight, they'd acquired general assumptions, but it was all clichéd psychological conclusions.

 

“That was your courtship?” the gunman joked.

 

“It was misdirected emotion.” The brunet winced at the stupidity he detected at the sound of it.

 

Irvine gestured to the point between his eyes, making a diagonal trace towards his cheek. “Was that misdirected emotion?” he questioned.

 

Squall lifted a hand to his scar. “Our training together wasn't the same as fighting,” he mumbled defensively.

 

Curiously, Irvine stared at Squall for a moment. Jumping at the opportunity to know something new about Squall, he gestured to the barrier wall across from himself. “Indulge me,” he requested.

 

Squall bit his lip in hesitation. Raking a hand through his hair, he shifted his choppy bangs out of his eyes. He stepped closer, taking his place across from Irvine, not four feet of distance between them.

 

“Whatever Quistis told you isn't entirely true.”

 

With a nod, the gunman conceded the statement. “Well, please correct her. After all, who better to hear the truth from?”

 

Shifting uncomfortably, Squall leaned more heavily against the wall while crossing his arms. It wasn't exactly something he'd ever discussed with an outsider, that is, someone other than Seifer. Even Quistis didn't understand, and she'd been the only person to witness the whole development. Zell was a close second, but he hadn't been the instructor to oversee each of their punishments.

 

“I fought with Seifer because he annoyed the hell out of me. He fought with me for the same reasons.”

 

“Quistis says that you ignored everyone and Sir Almasy needed attention like water. A rather needy dog, isn't he?”

 

Thinking back, Squall rolled his eyes at a younger and more annoying Seifer. “He thought I ignored him on purpose, even though it was obvious I treated him like everyone else.”

 

“But you didn't,” Irvine finished for Squall with jealousy.

 

“No, I could never ignore Seifer. But he thought I did and that pissed him off because of what we were to each other.”

 

The jealousy only built, making Irvine wonder if he shouldn't take this conversation in small parts, only hearing a little of it each day. “What were you, to each other I mean?”

 

“We were….” Lips pressed together, Squall searched for the right phrasing. “I guess we were family. After everyone left, it was just Seifer and myself. He was with me when we first entered Balamb Garden. The only time we've ever been apart was when Ultimecia's showed up.”

 

“So, you're shagging your brother?”

 

Glaring, Squall sent a silent warning to the gunman. He was already bent over backwards, talking about such private matters.

 

“Sorry,” he apologized. He wasn't really sorry, but upon realizing that he had Squall standing before him looking sexy as all hell in a form fitting navy blue t-shirt, he also realized that he needed to keep the conversation going. It was the rarest of gems to have the Commander speaking like this, it was right up there with getting the man to bend over like in his dreams.

 

“We trained with our blades,” he gestured to his face, “Sometimes we went overboard.” He didn't mention that it was actually Seifer who'd gone overboard, not to mention used an underhanded trick. “We fought with words, but it was misdirected. I never hated him, he just annoyed me. And I doubt he hated me if he constantly looked out for me.”

 

Squall might have been bending the truth as he knew it just a little, but Irvine would be none the wiser.

 

Incredulously, Irvine cast an angled gaze at the Commander from beneath the brim of his black hat.

 

“Seifer wasn't the only one who didn't take kindly to my silence.” Squall glanced at Irvine, those uniquely purple eyes darkened by the shadow of that hat. Irvine was fairly close to being just as effeminate as himself, with bowed lips and over all structured features that weren't quite chiseled but more softly angled.

 

“Oh?” Violet eyes scanned the delicate features of the brunet's pale face for any trace of misgivings. Finding none, he questioned, “What happened?”

 

Stormy gray eyes searched the plain brown rug for a moment. “Nothing,” he answered.

 

“Come on darlin', don't stop elaborating on me now.”

 

Squall didn't object to the nickname, knowing full well that it was common in the cowboy's vocabulary. “Nothing happened. I never dealt with it because Seifer took care of it. I'd heard rumors that Seifer had staked a claim on me, that only he could beat me up. Apparently, he'd beaten up a few upperclassmen to prove that point.”

 

Confused for the briefest moment, Irvine studied the pretty boy before him. It was an interesting story, but it did nothing to win his favor for the knight. “He's still an asshole,” he declared.

 

“Seifer is many things,” Squall indirectly agreed. Seeing a fierce hatred in Irvine's eyes, he continued, “He's also surprisingly considerate, gentle, patient, lov-”

 

Irvine quickly held a hand up to cut Squall off. He didn't need to be hearing this. “Somehow I doubt he's any of those.” While he wanted to point out that Seifer was not anywhere near gentle when he'd seen them that morning, he held his tongue.

 

“Rinoa left, and you were falling apart,” Irvine said abruptly, taking over the conversation to spare his ears from hearing Seifer's praises. “Then Seifer returns and you're all over him. Tell me how that isn't a classic rebound.”

 

Only certain of it for the first time right then, Squall replied, “Because I never loved Rinoa.”

 

Irvine's eyes widened. This was news to him. “But you love Seifer?”

 

“Yes” It was almost becoming second nature to affirm such a question. He wasn't sure whether if that was good.

 

“Do you even know what love is?” Irvine spat with contempt. He immediately regretted it, seeing a rather extreme reaction of pain in bright storm colored eyes. He hadn't meant to say it.

 

Squall blinked, his eyes effectively guarded once more. “Am I that cold to you all?” he questioned. Though his voice held no hurt, it was implied by his words.

 

“Squall,” the gunman placated, “I didn't mean it like that.”

 

Scoffing, Squall waved the longhaired cowboy off, “It doesn't matter.”

 

“It does,” Irvine spoke rather forcefully.

 

“Irvine, I'm not completely oblivious. I might not have known that you liked me, but I do know that you guys wish I opened up more.”

 

“No, we like you how you are.”

 

“Right, and the attempts to take me out partying aren't your way of turning me into some social butterfly.”

 

“That was Selph's idea.”

 

“You all collaborated,” the brunet accused, remembering several occasions when they'd all attempted to drag him away from work to go out for a drink.

 

“I didn't mean it,” Irvine stated again, returning to the matter at hand.

 

Squall practically cracked the bullet between his teeth as he prepared to bare all and tell all. There was no possible way he could get used to this shit, it was embarrassing and taxing. “If you hear something enough times, you start to believe it,” he stated seriously. “I've always been the Ice Prince.”

 

“Squall, that's a joke.”

 

“I know, but that doesn't mean it's not born from some truth.” He paused in reflection, drawing upon his feelings from past times to give his current words support, “Love is not something I take lightly. Did you know that I haven't once told Laguna that I love him? I've been trying to for weeks, but I can't say it until I'm absolutely positive it's true.”

 

A wave of heat ran up to Irvine's neck. The atmosphere felt suddenly heavy.

 

With great reluctance, Squall went so far as to admit a darker secret, “I haven't told Ellone I loved her since she left the orphanage. And I don't have a single memory of ever telling Matron I loved her.”

 

Deeply frowning, Irvine thought back with intense focus. It was impossible for such a thing to be true. Surely that wasn't the case. He tried to dredge up a memory of little Squally running into Matron's arms and telling her how much he loved her. He couldn't picture it, because in truth, it hadn't ever transpired.

 

“Rinoa wouldn't let it go, she always needed to hear me say it. I figured it was fine since I was her knight, which meant I must have loved her. But, I never felt it.”

 

“You were sick with worry when she left,” Irvine pointed out.

 

“Because she was important to me, like all of you are.”

 

There was a warm stirring within the gunman at this declaration. His pride swelled at knowing he was automatically included in the scarce few who were important to Commander Leonhart, who the Ice Prince cared about. But, it wasn't enough. He wanted more, he wanted Squall to love him.

 

“I was scared that she was hurt, but more so that if I didn't find her, then there truly would be no one in my life that I loved.”

 

“But you didn't love her.”

 

“I never knew the difference between saying it and feeling it,” Squall explained rather easily.

 

“So, a man tries to destroy the world, and that melts your heart?” Now he was just jabbing Squall, making it difficult. But, why shouldn't it be difficult for the brunet if he was struggling also. He was simultaneously absorbing every word spoken through enticing lips and fighting his more carnal urges. It was near impossible to concentrate while aroused, not to mention nearly bursting with a million other emotions that had been building over the weeks.

 

Squall remained silent, tossing the other man's meaning around. With a whimsical smile that caused violet eyes to widen and the gunman to shift straighter, Squall raised his eyes to meet Irvine's. It was impossible to hide the magnitude of pain he felt at the mere remembrance of the dream Shiva had given him. His eyes bore into Irvine's. He was overwhelmed by the coldness that sank into his heart, the oppressive pain of being alone that crushed his chest and stole the air from his lungs. There was no denying how horrible it felt to imagine losing Seifer. The stupid, arrogant knight had always been there, and without the blond, he was lost.

 

Irvine was rendered thoughtless and motionless. Why was Squall looking at him like that? Was he hurt? What was wrong? Hyne, what was wrong? His heart raced and he feared that the world was about to end any moment, for there was no plausible reasoning for such an anguished expression. It wasn't even an expression, for pale features remained impassive. It was just Squall's eyes. There was an unmistakable sadness in those big blue-gray eyes. All was conveyed in those eyes.

 

“It hurts when he isn't here,” Squall spoke quietly, his voice hushed and level, but full of emotion all the same. Speaking straight from the heart, he conveyed how he felt in that moment when he thought the abrasive man was dying, when he was in denial over the fact that Seifer's body was only warm because he was curled up against it. “It's heavy, like being crushed. My heart wouldn't beat right, like the blood was too thick and it was too much work, like it wanted to stop. I think it did, I think being without him is like telling my body to give up because it's better off dying… than going on alone.”

 

Irvine could practically feel Squall's words, but his mind was too occupied with worry over whether the brunet was describing how it had been during the time after the war. Had Squall been feeling this way that whole time?

 

“You were never alone,” Irvine declared. Swiftly sweeping forward, he grabbed the brunet unawares. Pulling Squall's smaller frame against his own, he hugged the Commander. “You're not alone,” he whispered, burying his face against the shorter boy's dark mop of hair.

 

Squall stiffened and tried to pull back. Not wanting to resort to hitting Irvine again, he didn't struggle further when the grip didn't relent.

 

“I'm right here Squall. Let me be with you.”

 

Squall bristled again. The pained feeling of Shiva's vivid dream had ebbed away upon being shocked from internal focus. “Don't you understand?” he questioned in a muffled voice against the gunman's plum purpled shirt beneath the long trench coat. “I'm alone without Seifer.”

 

“You have us,” Irvine affirmed harshly, squeezing tighter.

 

“But I need him!” Squall cried out, his voice stifled enough to not create a commotion from anyone who might be ambling close enough outside the shooting range's door in the Training Center.

 

“Why?!” Irvine yelled right back, his hands taking clenched fistfuls of Squall's shirt.

 

“Because he's the only one I love, dammit!” Squall shot back. Being blunt wasn't enough. “Because I can't fucking breath right without him!”

 

“But why him?” Irvine half sobbed against Squall's hair. He wasn't crying, but he was hurting all the same.

 

“I don't know,” Squall admitted, lowering his voice because Irvine had.

 

“If you don't know, then what's to say it couldn't be me?”

 

Going lax in Irvine's intrusive and unwanted hold, Squall accused, “Because you want me for a one night stand. You'll play with me for all of two seconds, just like every other woman you've ever seduced, and then you'll be done. The only reason you're suffering is because it's taking longer to get me to spread my legs. I'm a fucking toy truck to you Irvine, but Seifer would never think so little of me.”

 

“That's not true,” Irvine said roughly, gripping Squall all the more fiercely.

 

“It is. You want one last good conquest before finally settling down. That's why it's now, why you never liked me before. You're ready to be with Selphie, but not before one final bang. Suddenly I'm with Seifer, and you see that gender isn't an issue and that I'd be quite the trophy.”

 

“Stop it,” the gunman urged, not wanting to hear anymore.

 

Squall was almost to the point of having the air squeezed out of him, but he stubbornly continued. “Open your eyes for Hyne's sake Kinneas. Stop thinking with your dick and start using your head.”

 

“I'm not so blind Squall,” Irvine said, choosing to attack the brunet in turn. “You've never noticed how people look at you. Do you know how much I want you right now? You're beautiful. Seifer sees that, he's the one who just wants to get in your pants.”

 

“Irvine,” Squall warned, pushing once more against the gunman's chest.

 

“You like it,” he pressed, all danger forgotten in his fogged up judgment. Lowering an arm, he brashly grabbed the Commander's butt. “You like it when he fucks you. That's all it is.”

 

“No!” Squall stated harshly, practically growling the word out. “I came here to set the record straight.”

 

“You came here to tease me. You know how much I like you, and you parade it around.” Now he was the one with misdirected feelings, taking out his pent up anger at Seifer on Squall. He knew it, yet he couldn't stop himself.

 

“Let go of me, I don't want to hurt you.”

 

“Would you punch me again? Would you pull that dagger out that you have hidden somewhere?”

 

With cold anger, Squall tensely shifted his arms, barely able to gain the mere inches he required. His fingers dug harshly beneath the gunman's ribs. The hold was relented and he stepped away. He wouldn't throw any punches, but he felt entirely out of options since there was nothing more he could say that would make Irvine understand.

 

Irvine followed Squall's movement, the brunet backing against the wall. “You love him, but you care about me? Show me that you care, show me what our friendship means to you.”

 

It must have been the guilt Irvine detected from the beginning, knowing Squall felt bad about something as trivial as a black eye. Squall was an odd person, becoming stubborn about the oddest of things. If the Commander had decided not to throw any more punches, then he could probably do a hell of a lot more to the smaller man before he actually pushed the brunet far enough to break that personal oath.

 

With that in mind, Irvine looked down the barrel of a cocked gun and aggressively continued. “Show me!” he ordered while stooping to kiss Squall.

 

Headstrong, Squall refused to physically hurt Irvine. He could break away and simply leave, but he hadn't quite given up on making the cowboy understand and drop the infatuation. Instead, he remained in place, but turned his head away from the unwanted kiss. “Stop it,” he ordered.

 

“Just how far are you willing to go to settle this? If this is just me looking for a final fling, then why not just give it to me and we can all return to our happy lives?”

 

“Stop it,” Squall repeated, unsure how he could elaborate the order to make it clearer.

 

“Show me how much you care for me Squall. I'm your friend, and I need you right now.”

 

Squall grit his teeth, willing some sanity into the obviously upset and apparently drunk gunman.

 

Regardless of Squall's turned head, Irvine pressed forward, laying his body against Squall's. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the bared throat.

 

“Dammit,” the brunet cursed, bringing his hands up to the cowboy's shoulders to shove him off.

 

Irvine didn't even need to see the movement to react in kind, grabbing the bony wrists and pressing them back.

 

“Irvine, I swear, you don't want to push me.”

 

“No,” he agreed, letting go of one of the hands to knock his hat off. “I don't want to push you, I want to fuck you.”

 

Squall cringed at his own ineptitude in dealing with this. It was one thing if Irvine was crossing the line without feelings involved, but this sort of stuff was always tricky.

 

“You gonna bed Quistis after me?” Squall questioned, straining his head further away as Irvine's lips sought out his own.

 

With great reluctance, Squall played his final card. It was his most harmful one, probably not any better than opting for violence. “Maybe you'd like to drug me up and chain me to a bed? I know some good places in Dollet.”

 

The effect was immediate. Irvine practically jumped back, eyes wide with horror. Bowing his head in shame, he pressed his fists against his forehead in an attempt to compensate for his lack of excuses at the moment.

 

Squall turned away also, staring resolutely out at the target wall. “I'll forget it happened,” he offered as an easy out.

 

“Hyne, Squall,” Irvine's voice cracked. Stumbling back, he collided with the wall and sank to the floor. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

 

Trusting that Irvine was far from feeling any lust at the moment, Squall knelt before him. “I care enough to stop you when you're doing something stupid. You're nothing like Epson though, I just didn't know what else to say.”

 

Shaking his head frantically, Irvine disagreed. “No, I'm just like that sick bastard.”

 

Squall scoffed at the idea. “You're not even close.”

 

Violet eyes searched Squall's desperately, pleading for some solution to be found. Instinctively, Irvine reached a hand out, but retracted it in fear that he'd lose himself.

 

Squall recalled a similar action done by his father, when Laguna felt the need to hug him but held back on his account. It was nothing more than a comfort, something even Squall could understand.

 

At a loss for what else he could say or do to help Irvine, or at least make the gunman realize he might as well try courting an iceberg, Squall shifted closer. Reaching out, he drew a surprised gunman against his chest and offered another easy out. After a moment, Irvine returned the hug, assured that it was okay, that Squall wasn't permanently scarred by his touch.

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

 

“You realize that you're so upset because of how much this is hurting Selphie, right? Doesn't that tell you anything about who you love most?”

 

Irvine listened impassively. He must have fallen very far to be receiving advice from Squall on this matter. It was pathetic, but he could live with it so long as no one else found out.

 

Squall sighed, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that he was giving solace to another person by hugging them. It was just weird and didn't fit. All the same, he wasn't about to up and leave Irvine after what just happened.

 

“I won't turn you away. You've always been a lecher, but I stayed your friend. Seifer being here doesn't change that. I care, but this is probably the only time you'll ever hear me admit it.”

 

“Ice Prince,” Irvine mumbled, against Squall's chest. He was selfishly enjoying every second of it, knowing that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to wring the Commander dry of affection. Squall didn't so much as offer a pat on the back, let alone partition from sexual assault, hugs, and words of length or warmth.

 

“I'm not what you want,” the brunet affirmed solidly. “I'd never let you touch me in public, which you seem to have an affinity for, and I'd be just as cold to you in bed as I am any other time.”

 

Irvine found little humor in the attempted joke. He knew for a fact that Squall warmed up quite nicely in bed, but maybe that was another point the brunet was trying to make. Maybe Squall was telling him that if they became involved, he would actually be an Ice Prince even during sex. Such thoughts made him shutter.

 

After several minutes, which included Squall asking if Irvine was quite finished and Irvine responding with an affectionate squeeze to the smaller boy's lithe torso, the two separated. Squall rolled his eyes while straitening his shirt, whereas Irvine beamed. It was a forced smile, but it seemed to have hope for becoming something more.

 

“Who knew the Commander was such a softy? And, he talks so much, I barely got a word in edge wise.”

 

“Shut it Kinneas.”

 

“I won't tell if you don't,” he suggested, trying to hide his actual want for seriously making such a deal.

 

“No one has to know,” Squall said a little too hastily, obviously preferring no one find out.

 

It was blatantly obvious that their little discussion produced no solutions. Irvine was not miraculously cured of his attraction to Squall, and the brunet knew this. But, the air between them was decidedly cleaner.

 

While Irvine was almost certain his dreams would still involve a wanton Commander sneaking into his bedroom, he grudgingly admitted that regardless of what might really be going on between Squall and Seifer, the stormy eyed and practical young man was serious about it. He had a lot to think about, and needed time to digest it.

 

Squall self-consciously ran a hand through his messy strands of hair, not really needing to straighten them. It was awkward. Actually, it had always been awkward, but at other moments he'd been too preoccupied to notice.

 

“I suggest you practice some more, you're losing your touch,” the Commander spoke with goading calmness and gestured towards the missed hits. “After the holidays, I'd planned on sending you on a mission to the D-district prison, but I have no need for a marksmen with bad aim.”

 

“Watch it Commander, or Exeter will give Lionheart a few new aerodynamic holes.”

 

Squall gave a parting smirk. At the doorway, he looked back and bit his lip for a moment. Before he could question whether they were okay, Irvine retrieved his hat and gave a curt nod in answer.

 

Considering that no progress had been made, Irvine felt surprisingly calm again. His emotions weren't running rampant. Perhaps he'd just needed an outlet that didn't involve guns and target practice. Or perhaps his subconscious had already started to believe Squall's words. He still wanted to nail Squall, but it felt like it had at the very beginning of his attraction. It felt no different than if he were staring at a new cadet's butt and drooling.

 

He wondered about a lot of things. Aside from Squall's accusations about his own feelings, he was extremely curious about that moment of unguarded emotion within the Ice Prince. What was Squall so upset over? What had been running through that pretty little mind while talking about needing Seifer?

 

There was also the other matter of exacting revenge on Seifer. He wondered if assaulting Squall counted? Probably not, since the ex-knight would never find out.

 

 

TBC….

 

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