Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Absent Presence ❯ Absent Presence ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: DB2020

Warning: A little kiss and mentioning of sex. Nothing graphic.

Part III

An Odd Couple

Without reason, Squall knelt on the cushion and stared out the window with almost giddy excitement. He felt on edge, like something was going to happen any moment. The trouble was that experience dictated that bad events usually followed the nagging little feelings he had. So, despite feeling more excited than tense, he had his gunblade at his side for caution's sake.

As the train slowed, he debated debarking with his blade unsheathed. However, he began to realize how foolish he was being. It was a simple task to draw his weapon, no need to cause alarm among any other passengers.

When he began to feel like some overactive puppy unable to settle down from the window of its master's car, Squall slid into place properly. Staring fixedly through the glass at the churning ocean, he let the slowing speed tell him how close the train was to the station. His thoughts betrayed him as he continued to think about his past, specifically Seifer.

If he were to be completely honest with himself, he simply missed the blond bastard. It was a fierce sort of emptiness that had grown since the moment Seifer vanished from sight. While abandonment was a prevalent theme in his life, he hardly felt sorry for himself. Seifer leaving had been different though, affecting him more than he cared to admit.

No one except Rinoa knew, but at night when he dreamed, he called out the knight's name. Squall was a bit thankful that when his raven-haired princess had expressed her concerns to Cid, she'd knowingly classified his sleeping habits as nightmares.

If there was anything Squall knew, it was that the subconscious didn't lie. He spent most of his time thinking and knew just how easy it was to classify certain feelings wrongly. Though he'd never admit it to another person, he hardly deluded himself into thinking Seifer had been nothing more than a good sparring partner.

Seifer was a childhood companion, someone who had always been in his life one way or another. His rivalry with the older boy had been a cherished relationship. There was a complex understanding between them that never needed to be addressed or analyzed, and he missed that. He missed the strong connection.

For all his isolation and shunning of contact with his fellow classmate or friend, he'd always had Seifer, whether or not he'd realized as much. Now he felt like he was alone. There was no relationship and therefore his asocial behavior left him without any manner of intimate contact with anyone. While it was entirely a product of his own doing, he wasn't sure he knew any different after so many years.

It was really starting to eat away at him. His mind kept pining over the lost rival that served as his single contact. It was a great loss for him that hurt a little more each day.

As the train rolled in and came to a halt, Squall was jolted from his inner musings. For the briefest of moments, he thought he glimpsed a familiar face. He'd seen the golden blond hair out of the corner of his eye.

Quickly, he dismissed any possibility of finding Seifer at the train station in FH. It was simply a matter of seeing what he obviously wanted to see. Undeniably, he wanted to see Seifer again, thus he'd seen some random blond outside and immediately jumped to the conclusion.

He scoffed at the way his heart raced as he stood up, his body not listening to the logic of his brain. If his steps were slightly hastened, it was only because he was itching to get out of the thunderstorm and back to Esthar where he could forget everything in the heat of battle.

Before he could rush off, he paced his compartment. He refused to run onto the platform and look around like a fool.

Seifer found his eyes scanning the many faces of each passenger as they came off the train. It was difficult considering there were about five long compartments that spanned the entire platform, people exiting from every which way. He wondered if there was room to house them for the night in the small town. Nearly all of them were no doubt intent on transferring and heading out to Esthar.

He didn't know why he searched, but he felt a certain excitement that made the blood rush through his veins, just like the old days during a spar with Squally-boy. It was almost maddening.

He took several steps forward in his growing excitement, scanning the faces as quickly as possible. However, it was more difficult the closer he moved to the train, so he kept backing up after moving in too close. His height proved quite useful as he towered over everyone else, but there was an abnormally large amount of people, which was just his luck.

Just when he thought no one else was left, at least a minute having gone by since the last straggler past by with a curse about the rain, he turned and glanced at the furthest compartment.

He felt frozen in place. He stared transfixed as his mind tried to disprove that the pretty boy commander was coincidentally in Fisherman's Horizon on the same day he decided to travel to Balamb.

Briefly, he thought he was hallucinating again, wondering if it was another look-alike. That was obviously not the case as those steely blue eyes turned his way. Time seemed to slow the moment their eyes met. Seifer's breath hitched as the smaller man walked toward him.

Though he stood straight and appeared calm, he felt ready to burst. He knew he should be thinking of something to say, deciding on whether to bypass the whole fact that they hadn't seen each other in eight months. All he could do was stare.

Seifer saw that the pretty boy's hair had gotten even longer, nearly brushing narrow shoulders in a sort of unmannered and mussed way. It made that delicate face look even more effeminate, assuring anyone who cared to imagine it that Commander Leonhart could pass for a woman just as easily as a beautiful man. Despite unruly strands occasionally hiding bright eyes from view, Seifer could feel the brunet's gaze upon him.

It was a sore chance to miss seeing Rinoa, since the former knight felt the blatant beat of his heart thumping faster with each step Squall took closer. His manhood was in serious question as he eyed bowed lips and wished he could recall the feel of kissing them all those years ago.

Before he knew it, the Commander was standing within arm's reach and those lips were moving. As if the trance were broken, his rush back to reality was smoothly guided by that soft voice he hadn't heard in what felt like forever.

“Almasy,” the brunet spoke again. Squall's shock over seeing the former knight out of the blue was made worse by the fact that he felt like he'd finally gotten what he wanted. It was as pathetic as it was disturbing to think that he actually wanted to see Seifer.

Staring down, Seifer couldn't help but grin. It was beyond nostalgic to have those icy eyes gazing at him with an ever-present defiance. “Leonhart,” he greeted in return, relishing the way the name felt when he said it to the owner.

Hardly willing to be the first to break the gaze, Squall stared despite the moments that continued to pass. He tried to find some sign within those striking green irises, some expression of feeling that would let him know where the blond stood. The trouble with Seifer was that there were too many emotions to decipher and the most important ones were always as well hidden as his own.

Offering his hand, Seifer waited to see if it would be accepted or ignored. While he did not peg Squall as the type to hold grudges, it was impossible to tell what thoughts formed behind that guarded expression.

Never hesitating, Squall took the offered hand and nearly lost himself for it. It was a warm touch with calloused skin. The firm grip felt all encompassing, the larger hand seeming to hold his own and not the other way around. Though his expression remained neutral, a small shiver ran through him.

“Squall,” Seifer spoke slowly, as if his lips needed to be trained to say the boy's first name. It was his subtle offer at friendship. In the moment he grasped the brunet's hand he realized he couldn't settle for not seeing Squall on a regular basis, so it was either back to their rivalry or a change for something more. Having something more than rivalry was quite appealing.

“…” For a long moment Squall just stared. Nearly as stubborn as himself, Seifer didn't seem to mind waiting and leaving him in confusion. The speaking of his name was unnatural and didn't seem to imply anything while at the same time sending his thoughts in countless directions. At length, he finally replied, “Seifer.”

“Why do I get the feeling that's not the first time you've said my name,” Seifer said with tightening grip to the hand he still held.

Squall felt his cheeks heat against his will to remain impassive. All he could think about were his dreams, when he must have called Seifer by name and not by the title he used for his rival.

Seifer almost laughed, finding the blush that came to pale cheeks rather adorable. Instead he released the hand in his hold, having already held on longer than necessary. “Come on,” he said with a nod backwards. “The trains aren't running `til the storm's over.”

As if just realizing for the first time that there was a storm raging, Squall glanced along the tracks, following them to the open area and seeing the torrents of heavy rain. Instinctively he reached for his gunblade, preferring to have it sealed in his case than at his hip.

Seifer watched with peeking interest as Squall made to stow the Revolver blade away. “Where's that neon beauty?”

“Balamb,” the brunet answered shortly.

“Any particular reason why you're using such an old model?”

“It's not old,” Squall defended immediately, betraying the conscious intent of using that specific gunblade.

Leaving it at that, Seifer thought about the possibilities. It was difficult to read Squall, but he had years of practice. The use of this gunblade was purposeful, but he didn't know why.

Case closed, Squall stood up. His eyes caught a familiar looking case propped against nearby bench. Gunblades were hardly common and he'd be a fool not to assume it was Seifer's, along with the duffel bag beside it.

“Going somewhere?” Squall questioned.

“Yeah,” Seifer answered. “I was going to see you.” Without further explanation, he strode over to grab his stuff, no longer needing to make the trip since Squall had come to him.

Squall watched the ex-knight's broad back as the man began to walk away. It was painfully familiar.

Seifer stopped. Turning back, he gave a look of expectation. He was slightly alarmed to find Squally-boy gazing at him with anguish in those stormy eyes. “Come on,” he prompted. “The storm's only getting worse and we'll be soaked by the time we make it to my place anyway.”

Nodding numbly, Squall hefted his load and followed without question. The trains weren't running and he needed a place to stay. Perhaps he could finally settle his restlessness and banish his thoughts that always strayed to the blond knight.

They walked side by side, an odd looking pair as they both seemed to mirror each other. Cases placed in opposite hands it was a wonder they hadn't been trained to reflect each other's mannerisms and gestures. However, their similarities were as numerous as their differences. It was always extreme with them. Hot and cold, fire and ice, ostentatious and shy.

“I know why you use that blade,” Seifer said above the loud splatter of heavy drops hitting the hard ground. A white mist formed where the pellets bounced back up, as if they walked through a foot of wet fog.

With a knowing grin, Seifer stopped in the middle of the courtyard. They were halfway soaked anyway, delaying a minute or two wouldn't make a difference. “It's because that was your weapon when we were together.”

Hair darkened as it plastered itself to his head, Squall stared curiously at the blond. While the assumption was cocky and outrageous, it was also completely true. Still, he was hardly going to admit as much. “I don't need the Lion Heart to be a good fighter. Sweeping the outskirts of Esthar doesn't call for my best blade. It'd be overkill.”

“You're a poor liar Squall,” Seifer commented quickly. “I can always tell when you lie because you string more than a single sentence together.”

Jaw clenching Squall turned away and began walking without the blond.

“You don't know where to go,” Seifer called out.

“I'll go the hotel,” Squall bit out without looking back.

“No, you won't,” Seifer affirmed, jogging to catch up. “I didn't pack my bags and buy a ticket just so you could show up here and stay at a hotel. There's a lot we need to talk about.” Doubling up his luggage in one hand, he reached out to grab Squall's shoulder.

“Like what?” the brunet questioned icily, jerking away from the offending hand that tried to touch his shoulder.

“Like why I can't stop thinking about you,” Seifer stated bluntly, choosing not to think about his words lest he keep them in because of pride. He always spoke what was on his mind, even on the rare occasions that it hurt his ego instead of boosting it.

“How about why you left,” Squall suggested in hot accusation, glaring at the older boy with flickering anguish that seemed to creep past his barriers defiantly.

The darkest of clouds seem to settle right over the small town. A violent streak of lightening flashed across the sky, as if cracking it right down the center. The deafening thunder that followed caused grey-blue eyes to dart upwards as the pale brunet tensed up.

Seifer saw the fear in the young man that so many people believed to be fearless. Everyone had a weakness. The quiet little boy who'd jumped at the loud claps of thunder was now the strong young man who tried valiantly to remain unaffected by all earthly elements, but failed to mask the still present fear.

On impulse, and perhaps insanity, Seifer stooped and captured wet lips. They were cold from the rain had been running down the shorter man's upturned face. Finding that there was a pivotal moment between taking it further or backing off, he struggled with the decision.

With a thud, Seifer dropped his bag and case from his hand and firmly replaced the hand that had been rejected earlier. Gripping Squall's shoulder, hoping he didn't wind up half dead for his actions, he continued to kiss the brunet. He couldn't have been in a right state of mind and he fully intended to find psychiatric help after it. Insistent that he draw out some sort of reaction, his arms encircled the brunet's smaller frame and he tried to kiss more forcefully.

Stunned and confused, Squall wasn't even sure of his own name. Seifer was kissing him. At least he was pretty sure that's what the blond was doing. He couldn't be sure of anything at the moment. By the time his senses began to take hold, he was torn between what to do first.

Seifer pulled back from unresponsive lips, his pride only allowing him to carry on for a certain amount of time before he had to back off. There really weren't any excuses for it, given that he wasn't a child any more.

Seifer searched the wide and skittish eyes of the smaller man he held in his arms. Was he a fool to think the kiss would be returned like all those years ago? What the hell was wrong with him? What in Hyne's name did he think he was doing?

Blinking against the rain, Seifer took a steady breath, a lump forming in his throat and a burning sensation forming in his eyes. Grinning broadly as if it had been some colossal joke, he excused, “Sorry, old habits you know. I felt nostalgic all of sudden.”

Squall simply stared, unable to process so much at once. Seifer was quite the hypocrite to call him the bad liar. “You're crying,” he muttered. His mind didn't seem to process anything beyond the obvious.

Shaking his head, Seifer pulled away, distancing himself from Squall as if burned. “I've fucking lost it,” he said angrily. Turning on Squall as if it were the boy's fault, he accused, “Who the hell are you to make me think about you? I can't have one damn moment of peace without your fucking face inside my head!”

Frowning, Squall took in the angry and defensive tone. The animosity seemed to trigger proper brain function. Finally processing what had just happened, he dropped his luggage and swung at the tanned knight's face.

With a solid hit sending pain through the left side of his face, Seifer straightened from the blow and practically snarled as he countered the attack. Tackling the pretty boy to the hard, cold ground, he let loose eight months worth of heavy hits. Blocking forearms took most of it, but he hardly cared where the hits landed.

Squall waited for the right moment. Somehow it was far easier to fight Seifer than reason with the blond, maybe that was why they'd fought in the first place-- because it had just been easier. Jabbing the knight's kidneys, he reversed their positions and gave a similar stream of angry punches. “Selfish bastard!” he shouted angrily. “You left me!”

Something in Squall's words brought Seifer down from his angry rage. There was more fear in the tone than anger, and it suddenly occurred to him that Squall might have another weakness apart from thunder. Squally-boy was afraid of being left behind.

No longer seeing red, he peered beyond his defending arms and saw tearful eyes. There was anguish, sadness, and the sort of hollowness that he'd seen after Sis left the orphanage.

“Squall,” the blond called hoarsely, attempting to bring an end to their foolish fight. The assault wasn't even well aimed. The hits were erratic, as if an outward expression of the words the brunet couldn't form. However, beyond the pained expression and wild punches, Squall didn't seem to register anything else.

Dangerously letting his guard down, Seifer tried to grab moving hands, eventually managing to grip deceivingly bony wrists. “Squall,” he called a bit louder while raising his head off the cold and wet ground. At length, the sopping form that straddled him grew calm.

Ignoring the sore throb of his face and the bruised feel of his stomach, Seifer managed to sit upright. With Squall's wrists still in his hold, he called the boy's name once more, already used to it. As stormy eyes rose from their blank gaze at his chest, he released his hold and cupped the other's pale face. He was almost sorry at the smear of blood near the corner of pout lips, a swollen cut freshly made.

Squall wondered why he always fell apart around Seifer. Was it fate to have one person that he couldn't keep out? If he were to be honest with himself, he didn't really want to keep everyone out, but at the same time he didn't want to let anyone get too close. Seifer had always been too close, hearing his words and knowing his unspoken thoughts. No one annoyed him more than Seifer. Was it coincidence that no one annoyed him more and no one knew him better?

Giving up for that moment only, Squall quickly latched onto the person who annoyed him, who understood him, and who had left him. He pressed forward and wrapped his arms around the man's neck, not caring how it was perceived.

Letting out a long breath, Seifer swallowed thickly, forcing himself not to fall any further by crying like a child. Nothing made sense anymore and he was slightly fearful that it never would again.

As the ice prince continued to hug him for dear life, he returned it. His arms surrounded the brunet's lithe frame, gripping tightly without care for the air that needed to fill Squall's lungs. As one hand traveled up to find a sopping mess of dark strands, he twined his fingers in it.

Seifer lost count of the minutes. Before long, the air didn't feel as warm. Willing to wait for Squall to release him, he squeezed the form in his lap for the warmth it gave.

“If there is anything I regret, it's leaving you,” he soothed as if speaking to a child.

“Poor liar,” Squall muttered. Strings of wet hair hung in his eyes as he stared blankly at the stones of the ground.

“I have missed you though,” Seifer admitted truthfully. He didn't regret the war and hadn't even considered the fact that Squall might have cared about his departure. Now that he knew, he felt bad, but hardly regretted it.

Roughly rubbing his hand through short blond strands, Seifer shook out some of the water in his hair. Glancing at Squall, he smirked. “I'll have to get you a towel,” he said, subtly picking on the feminine length of Squall's hair. A cold glare was the only response he received.

Once separated from each other and colder for it, the exchange outside the train station seemed all but forgotten. Seifer wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed by it. While addressing what happened would mean explaining why he'd kissed the brunet, ignoring it all together felt like he himself was being ignored.

Leading by example, Seifer pealed his shirt off and let it drop with a plop to the ground. Next came the boots. As he crouched to undo the laces, he cast a glance over to the slow going brunet. He watched slender fingers deftly unbutton the black shirt. It was almost taunting, dangling the sight of something he'd hadn't seen in ages before his eyes.

Growing angry at the forming lewd thoughts, Seifer nearly broke his laces while tugging them loose. Before his eyes strayed again, he quickly rid himself of heavy jeans and stalked into his apartment.

Squall remained in the entryway, silently chastising the blond for just leaving the wet clothes on the floor. He was rather surprised to see the exposed body of his rival. Seifer didn't appear to have become lax in training. With skin tanned by the sun, firm muscles lay beneath every inch.

A towel was abruptly tossed in his face, effectively distracting him from his curiosity about whether the mayor openly allowed Seifer to practice anywhere.

“Pants too Squally-boy. It might not look like much, but I don't need you wetting my bed.” Seifer couldn't help it if he was good at taking shots at the brunet. It was an old habit that certainly didn't seem prone to dying any time soon.

“How long have you lived here?” Squall questioned as the blond's form disappeared once more. Working out of his pants, he let his clothes remain on the floor in a similar state as Seifer's. With the towel placed over his shoulders, he immediately began scrounging through his bag.

Frowning, Squall was surprised he hadn't noticed the change of weight in the bag. There were about three extra pants and maybe four shirts that hadn't been there before. Rinoa could be very sneaky when she wanted to. He should probably check all the pants pockets later for some sort of note or letter.

“You can change in the bathroom if you must,” Seifer said with a small grin as he leaned against the wall. With a dry set of baggy sweat pants on, he crossed his arms before his bare chest, as if flaunting his lack of concern over exposure.

Glaring defiantly at the ex-knight, Squall stood and slid out of his last remaining garment. The clinging pair of boxers fell as if never needed in the first place. With a final scowl, he knelt back down to grab random articles of clothing and begin to dress himself.

Losing interest, since it was obvious Squall couldn't care less about being seen naked, Seifer tore away from his place and walked to his bedroom. If it served no purpose, then he'd prefer to have a shirt on. Despite the warm temperature, he felt chilled. Perhaps it was one too many icy glares in such a short period of time. Those eyes could freeze a lesser man's blood.

“You never answered me,” Squall said as he ventured further in and sought Seifer out. Wearing another pair of jeans, confused why Rinoa had bought several items so similar, he also donned a plain white t-shirt. He felt slightly awkward in such unfamiliar surroundings, a certain air about it being intimate for no apparent reason. It was one scenario to be in Seifer's dorm, a dwelling supplied by Garden, but to be in the blond's own apartment was somehow different.

“About six months, give or take a few days,” Seifer replied simply. It was becoming increasingly annoying that Squall seemed wholly uninterested in the fact that he'd kissed him.

“You said you were coming to see me, why?”

Seifer slammed his dresser drawer shut. “How long are you going to just ignore what happened?” the blond questioned with an edgy tone. Roughly shrugging into a plain white beater, he turned around.

“For as long as I think I couldn't understand it even if you explained,” Squall shot back.

Incredulously, Seifer turned and stared at Squall. “Do you think I know why I did it?”

“You are the one who…” he trailed off, not able to say it aloud.

“Who kissed you,” Seifer supplied easily, stepping closer as if to imply he intended to do it again.

Though Squall could see the taunting glint in green eyes, knowing Seifer had no such intentions of kissing him, he took a step back regardless. He didn't need to become more confused and that's exactly what Seifer was doing to his mind.

“You're not afraid of the big bad wolf now are you Squall?”

“Hardly,” Squall bit out, forcing himself to remain in place at the blond's approach. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything when the ex-knight came right before him and slid an arm around his back.

Seifer almost laughed at his ability to badger reactions out of Squall. A small gasp escaped the brunet's lips as he jerked the smaller man closer, against his body. “Tell me you haven't been madly in love with me all these years,” he whispered daringly.

Brows furrowed, Squall pushed against a broad chest and succeeded in leaning back enough to stare with slight horror and great disbelief.

The blond did laugh this time, finding Squall's expression priceless. “No of course not,” he assured, not wanting the boy to think he was serious. “But you admit that there is something. From the way you clung to me only seconds after finally finding me again, I'd say I'm not the only one who's been doing a lot of thinking.”

Squall frowned at the way Seifer made it sound like he'd been the one to seek the blond out. “Whatever,” he scoffed in dismissal. He'd been too wound up to know what he was doing. It meant nothing.

“You want to put that to the test?” Seifer said, easily understanding the words left unspoken.

Eyes widening, Squall betrayed himself. Scowling at the wide grin the arrogant man gave, he decided he'd rather admit that he was uncomfortable being so close than be subjected to the ex-knight's mind reading.

Once freed, Squall stalked away. The kitchen was easy enough to find considering it was in plain view. As he opened the fridge, he felt the looming presence of the blond.

“You could use a little more meat on those bones,” Seifer commented from behind the skittish young man. It was almost amusing to see how unsure Squall was all of a sudden, unable to tell if he was joking or whether his close proximity meant anything.

Straightening back up, Squall held up a plastic bottle of dark green liquid. Without seeking permission, he stepped away from the form that seemed to corner him and took a sip.

“Give me that,” Seifer chastised as he snatched it from the brash boy's hand. Taking his own sip he let the potion flow through him and heal the bruises given to him by the wary Commander. He grimaced at the bitter taste. “It's better cold,” he assured as he stored it back in the fridge.

Squall rolled his eyes. “That's what you always say.” How else would he have known the potion was in the fridge?

“So, you were heading to Esthar?” Seifer began amicably, not really looking forward to making small talk.

Not appreciating the older boy's attempt at smoothing recent events over, Squall finally asked, “Why'd you kiss me?” He didn't really want an answer, but he didn't feel like talking about what he'd been up to for the past eight months either. A slight curiosity swayed the balance.

“Why do you think?” Seifer returned as he leaned against the counter top and crossed his arms.

“Don't play games. You're the one who wanted to talk about it, I'd be fine writing it off.”

“Okay then, it never happened,” Seifer said with a shrug. Straightening, he stalked into the small living room that held little more than a couch.

Frowning, Squall wasn't sure if he should just leave or stay. The idea of going back out in the rain wasn't appealing, but neither was spending his night being annoyed by Seifer. After a few moments of silent debate, he too left the kitchen area.

For several long minutes, Squall sat next to Seifer in silence. He knew exactly what the blond was doing and he wasn't going to fall prey to something so childish. More stubborn by far, he could sit there all night and not speak a single word.

Seifer stared at the sulking brunet, finding that the moodiness was quite welcome after going so long without it. “I've missed having a good sparring partner,” he said after a while.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seifer saw that he had Squall's attention. He wasn't sure how he felt about Squall anymore, but there were several reasons for his plaguing thoughts that were obvious now. “It'd be nice to have that again,” he said in a suggestive manner. “Hyne knows you're the only other bladist who knows which end to hold, even if you do it with both your hands.”

With a small grin, Seifer took notice of how Squall shifted slightly, turning his way a bit. If he kept it up, he'd likely lure the pretty boy right into his bed. “I've been thinking too much lately. It's not healthy for someone like me.”

Hesitantly, unsure exactly what sort of life Seifer lead, Squall spoke, “I'm staying in Esthar for a while, camping on the outskirts. We're doing a sweep, since the Lunar Cry overwhelmed the city.”

With a gruff sigh, Seifer sat back a bit. “Sounds fun,” he commented with a small smirk of understanding.

Grey-blue eyes studied the blond's regal face. “You mean to come with me then?” he questioned uncertainly.

“Well, since you're obviously so desperate for my expertise, yes.” Craning his head back, he reclined with his arms propped on the back of the couch. “I can't promise my blade won't turn on you if the urge comes,” he warned with a grin.

“My men would kill you for that,” Squall replied with a small smile of his own. Somehow it didn't feel real. Was it so easy for Seifer to simply say he was coming and then do so? What about having a life in FH? Could the blond just up and leave like that? Part of him was jealous of such an ability. Though he was also a bit excited to finally know what it'd be like fighting together for once.

Huffing indignantly, Seifer raised his head. “Careful Leonhart, if you keep smiling I'm gonna think you're in love with me.”

Smile faltering, Squall glared.

“It's a joke,” the blond assured. Before he could completely botch up his previous achievement at getting the cloistered man to open up a bit, he waved Squall over. “Come here.”

Frowning, Squall remained at the other end of the three-seat couch in refusal.

“Please,” Seifer added with a slightly hopeful edge. If any part of him knew what his true feelings were, it was the part that had returned the hug with crushing strength.

With doubt filling his mind, Squall slowly complied.

Squall didn't know it was possible to feel both rested and worn out at the same time. Though he shifted to wake up, his body was far too attached to the comfortable warmth. His movements only succeeded in burrowing further beneath the blankets. Despite his knowledge that he couldn't laze about, he drifted without waking completely. He knew that if his mind and body stirred, then the surrounding warmth would become too hot and he'd be forced to leave it.

“Mmm,” a deep voice hummed with pleasure. Sneaking an arm around the sleeping boy's slim waist, Seifer pulled the form closer.

Eyes snapping open, Squall stared at the pillow his face was turned against. Images of the previous night flooded his mind. “Dear Hyne,” he murmured with overwhelming trepidation.

A little annoyed at such a reaction the morning after, Seifer attempted to remind Squall of why last night was not something to regret. Nuzzling a slender neck he said, “I thought I was your god last night.”

“Almasy,” Squall hissed, slapping the blond's head.

“Okay,” Seifer relented before a swatting slap turned into a well-placed punch. Perhaps it was expecting too much so soon. “Make last night whatever you will,” he sighed. Daring to place a kiss to the boy's temple, he slid away. “But don't forget that it was fucking amazing.” Leaving Squall to get over the initial panic, which he'd already done after feeling the sleeping Commander curl against him, he opted for a quick shower.

Squall remained in the bed, needing to gather his thoughts. He focused on breathing properly first, feeling as if he might start hyperventilating at any moment. He tried to ignore that he was sprawled in the knight's warm bed. The fact that his body found it terribly comfortable seemed to mock his brain, which was working through his feelings of horror.

“I slept with Seifer,” he spoke aloud in disbelief. What had possessed him to have sex with a man he'd spent his life fighting? He hadn't been drunk or drugged, which only left temporary insanity.

For what felt like an eternity, Squall stayed in that bed. It wasn't until sinking mattress and sudden weight on top of him that he was pulled back from his frantic thoughts.

Seifer couldn't help but hope for the best. In his view, making it through that morning without being killed would be a good outcome. His highest hopes were that they could simply move on with a casual air about it, as if it had just been another fight, and let things form from there.

Shifting the blanket, he gave the brunet a sense of security with the barrier. He almost hugged the huddled form that was like a solid lump under the covers. For a testing moment, he kept some of his weight atop Squall, wondering if the Commander would lash out or if his time in the shower had given the brunet enough reprieve to settle down.

“I know how you feel,” the blond assured, feeling none too secure about any of it himself. He would much prefer to write it off, not even caring if he felt ignored for it. Sexual frustration seemed like a great excuse, which might work for Squall but would be a stretch for him. It was more than sexual frustration on his part when he'd spent a good hour coaxing the timid brunet and warming his formal rival up to his touch.

Turning his head slightly, Squall peered up at Seifer, part of his vision blurred by the covers. “I need to leave,” he stated soundly.

“Not without a shower and a swig of the nice green water.”

Squall frowned for a moment before blushing heatedly. “Bastard,” he said accusingly, hating that his cheeks were bright red and detracted from the whole anger aspect.

Grinning broadly, suddenly terribly proud, Seifer returned, “A sore ass is hardly a consequence for everything else I gave you last night.”

“Hyne Seifer,” Squall groaned before burying his face in the pillow. Trying to be optimistic, he concluded that it was at least good he didn't wake up with the blond laughing at him and declaring that it had been some sort of revenge.

Jostling the springs, Seifer practically jumped up and down on Squall's form. “Come on Squally-boy. It was a little weird, maybe awkward at times, but it was fucking amazing.”

“Before I start calling you Irvine, get the hell off me!” Squall yelled in a muffled voice. Scrambling from his place, too much going on for him to miss the warmth, he stumbled out of the bed.

The first step nearly left him on the floor, but he managed to grit his teeth and walk to the doorway. “Fucking Hyne,” he cursed through clenched teeth. Hearing stifled laughter he turned and sent a venomous glare Seifer's way. “Prick,” he called.

Gulping at the dangerous gleam of ice in cold steel blue eyes, Seifer straightened up and wiped the smile off his face. “Sorry,” he apologized automatically, seeing that the brunet was in no mood. Biting his lip, he forced himself to contain his amusement. He couldn't explain why, but seeing the Balamb Lion angrily stalking away with his own dried seed on an inner thigh was highly amusing to him.

Fuming, Squall slammed the fridge shut and straightened up without so much as a sigh of relief. The sight of his pants draped over the arm of the couch did little to calm him. What the hell was running through his head when he'd quietly relished the exploring touches?

With a slam of the bathroom door, Squall paid little attention to what he was doing or his surroundings. It didn't take a whole lot of concentration to start a shower.

It wasn't until he soaped down that he was reminded of the feel of Seifer's hot release filling him. He scrubbed the remaining vestiges of sex off his body, thoroughly cleaning himself for shame of walking around with the blond's semen on him.

He wanted to feel disgusted, just as badly as he'd wanted to feel guilty about being such a bad boyfriend to Rinoa and a bad friend to the only group of people who could put up with him. However, disgust didn't even seem to be flickering beneath the many other emotions he felt churning within.

There was so much wrong with what had happened. Seifer seemed quite pleased about it all and that scared him. What exactly did the blond want from him? After leaving him and then suddenly turning up like this?

Closing his eyes, Squall recalled his moments of ecstasy, clinging to Seifer regardless of how terribly hot it was. It had certainly been fucking amazing, to word it as the crude knight would. Even then, alone in the shower, he could almost feel the blond filling him, splitting him.

Turning the tap off, Squall muttered a stream of curses under his breath. He only ever resorted to swearing when his mind was too wound up to think of anything better to say. The morning after was supposed to bring clarity to everything, not muddle it all up again.

Considering he hadn't worn his clothes for very long the previous night, Squall gathered his strewn garments from around the small apartment and dressed. He was mildly surprised to find the damp clothes picked up from the entry way and the bed neatly made.

There was no ex-knight in sight, which caused rising concern in him. “Seifer,” he called out, just to make certain there wasn't another room to the place he didn't know about. After pacing the place in debate of whether or not to grab his stuff and leave for Esthar, he found a small note taped to the fridge.

In hastily scribbled handwriting, the torn piece of notebook paper read:

Don't even think of leaving. I'll hunt you down and finish this one way or another, so sit your tight ass down and wait for me.

Scowling at the note, it was a moment before Squall realized the paper hardly constituted a good target for his anger. Crumpling the note, he shoved it in his pocket without second thought and took a seat on the couch.

His impatience soon changed to brooding as he silently took the time to analyze everything that had happened.

It wasn't much more than ten minutes before the main door opened and Seifer strode through with an armload.

“Sorry, I was detained by a curious old man,” Seifer excused as he grinned at a rather sour looking brunet. “It wouldn't kill you to look a bit pleased to see me,” he complained. “I come bearing gifts.”

While such a comment would have sent Selphie bouncing off the walls, Squall stared with ill amusement. He was slightly curious at the Styrofoam containers that appeared to be doggy bags for a meal.

“Best damn omelets you'll ever find,” Seifer boasted with a broadening grin. Handing one container off, he stalked into the kitchen for a couple of forks.

Feeling uneasy, Squall eyed his breakfast without attempting to eat it. Seifer seemed rather enthusiastic as he sat down and started right away. While he was quite hungry, not having realized it until just then, it felt wrong to just go about having breakfast in light of everything that had happened.

“Eat up,” Seifer encouraged. “I don't want your pansy ass fainting just when we get started out there.”

Wide eyed, Squall turned his focus to the blond. “You're still coming with me?”

“Of course,” Seifer said before continuing with his meal. When the brunet seemed put off by it, he elaborated, “A few odd happenings wouldn't change the fact that killing monsters is a hell of a lot more appealing than staying in this town.”

“Odd happenings?” Squall bit out incredulously. “Seifer, we had sex. That's a bit more than an odd happening.”

“Alright,” the ex-knight conceded. “It was a few extremely enjoyable odd happenings.”

“Was this all some joke to you?” Squall accused, not understanding how Seifer could be so amused by it all. “I'm not laughing.”

“You never laugh,” Seifer pointed out. The icy glare he received pushed him to sober up a bit. “Look, it happened. Just let it go. Friends fuck all the time, it's normal.”

“So, what? Now we're friends who go around having sex on occasion?”

Seifer shrugged noncommittally. “You make it sound so serious. If you were half as frustrated as I've been the past few weeks, then it'd be obvious why it happened.” A short talk with Frank that involved the old man asking if the lucky lady was in his bedroom had cleared a few things up for him. He wasn't lovesick, but he had needed his favorite rival, enough to constitute screwing the lovely young man upon finally seeing him again.

Not replying, Squall jabbed his fork into the omelet and sampled a bit. It was quite good, but he could hardly enjoy it under the circumstances.

“It was just the once,” Seifer placated. “I mean, I'm a normal guy, and more would be welcome. But, since you're obviously ready to go insane about it, just forget it happened.”

“How the hell can I forget?” Squall hissed. “You don't just forget something like that.”

“I'm going to assume you mean it was too good to forget, not the other way around,” Seifer commented defensively. “After all you've done, I'm surprised a little sex could throw you off like this,” he added in mild scrutiny.

Scowling, Squall resumed his silence, finding Seifer's words cut him down to size. He was acting a bit like a child. Since when did he place so much gravity on the act of sex? Why should it matter?

“That a boy,” Seifer said encouragingly as he ruffled damp locks of dark brown hair. “By the way, Rinoa doesn't need to know.”

Eyes narrowing, Squall realized he had a whole other mess of trouble to deal with. “Yes, she does,” he mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Realizing he'd never stamp that do-gooder streak out of Squall, he simply consoled like any good friend, “Cheer up lover boy, you've the whole day to think of a decent excuse.”

Squall knocked away the offending hand that reached for his hair again. “I'm not sure I want you as my friend,” he declared sulkily.

“Come on, I'm not beyond painting your toe nails. We'll be best friends.” Secretly, he wondered just how often he might coax Squall into having sex with him. It'd be nice if they were going to be staying in the middle of nowhere together. Unless they frequented the city, he felt certain he'd need some release.

“And I'm not beyond killing you if even suggest anything like that again,” Squall said while standing up. “Let's just go, I need to kill something.” The only appreciation he showed for breakfast was when he closed the lid and made to bring it along, silently showing that he intended to eat it later.

Smiling broadly, Seifer stood as well. Whether it was from the morning after receiving a phenomenal fuck or finally having his sparring partner back, he felt light hearted. It was plain to see that Squall was enthused about his company, otherwise the brunet would have refused to let him come that morning.

As Seifer closed the door, Squall asked, “Do you need to take care of anything before we go?”

Considering it for a moment, the blond nodded. “We'll stop by Raijin and Fujin's place real quick,” he announced, realizing his friends had no clue where he was and would probably like to know where he was going.

“Land lord,” Squall muttered in reminder. The apartment was one of several in the building.

“Naw,” Seifer refuted as they walked away. “I own this place.” He waved a gesturing hand to imply the entire building. He smirked at the slight faltering of steps in his shorter counterpart.

Surprised, Squall chose not to ask any further. Though seeming reckless, Seifer had everything under control, which was perhaps a quality no one ever saw in the ex-knight. He felt as though he had a few things to learn about his former rival, which would probably happen in the course of their new friendship. They were already off to a rocky start, but things had never gone smoothly between them.

Fin