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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Trouble
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Irvine/Squall
Warnings: Angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Squall worries more than is good for him. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_chances.
Irvine tries to be quiet as he sneaks in, carefully shutting the door behind him and shedding his clothes, dropping them in a heap with his hat on the top. He can see Squall asleep in their bed, half curled into a ball, his hair falling into his eyes. He turns off the light and bites his lip when he bumps into the end of the bed.
Finally, he slips between the covers and wraps his arm around Squall's waist, finding him awake but tense and annoyed. Pressing a kiss to the back of Squall's neck, he sighs softly. "Sorry, baby. Did you worry?"
"No."
He runs his hand down Squall's side, feeling the tension ease only a little. "I don't believe you. Or... has something gone wrong?"
Squall sighs and relents, rolling over to face Irvine and sneaking his arm around his waist, burying his face against Irvine's chest. Irvine smells of gun oil and gunpowder and cologne and mint, a comforting alive smell. He doesn't say that sometimes he fears Irvine will return to him smelling of blood and death. But, softly; "I was worried that something had."
"Aw, baby, you have so little faith in me," Irvine teases, but then he lets that drop, knowing it won't help. "I'm okay, look. I've never even come back with a scratch."
"I'm glad you're a sharpshooter."
Irvine blinks at that and then gets it. "Yeah. You know there's no reason to worry. I'm normally not even in the action. Hell, sometimes poor Exeter doesn't get a single shot. Come here, baby."
And Irvine pulls Squall close and snuggles against him and kisses him, over and over again, and Squall kisses back, half dazed under the onslaught. And when Irvine tsks at the shirt and boxers he's wearing, he lets Irvine get them off, lets Irvine push him down and roll on top of him.
"You okay?"
He smiles a bit and nods and wraps his arms around Irvine, pulling him down and kissing him, hard and eager and just a touch desperate. And Irvine holds onto him and kisses back and then shows Squall exactly how much he wantslovesneeds him.
And he holds him after, too, holds him tight and safe, and Squall sighs his contentment.
----
"Crap, Squall is going to kill us," Irvine mutters as Quistis finishes bandaging his arm with a torn-off strip of her dress. "We're late and wounded."
"Don't worry about it too much," she suggests, smiling a little to herself. She thinks it's cute, the way Squall worries about the silliest and littlest of things, and the way Irvine does his best not to give him any reasons to worry, though she'd never say that to either of them. "He'll probably be so glad to see you that he just drags you off to bed."
"God, I hope so."
Quistis has to laugh at his hopeful tone, a little breathy like a heartfelt prayer. He's always thinking about sex; sex, Squall and guns, anyway. Not that she blames him. The two of them together -- god. And after being so repressed, she has to wonder how horny Squall must be.
"I don't mean for sex. I mean for rest."
Irvine's smirk is playful as he reaches up to tip his hat a little. "There's a difference?"
----
Squall is sat bolt upright in the bed when Irvine gets back, silent, his hair concealing his eyes. His back is straight as a blade, and he looks about as likely to have sappy welcoming home sex with Irvine as a chocobo looks likely to turn out to be a fire breathing monster.
Fortunately, Irvine is sure that chocobos have been known to breathe fire, so there's some chance of some good sex, even if it's a very small -- okay, miniscule -- one.
Squall casts curaga after a moment when neither of them seem to know what to say, and Irvine smiles and undoes the strip around his arm. "Thanks, baby. Me and Quisty were all out of cure by the time we got out of there. Not that we needed a lot -- but the bastards drew from us. I guess I'll need to go on a restocking trip soon."
"You're late."
"I know, I'm sorry..."
"Why do you always get into trouble on missions?"
Squall looks up, his question genuine, his eyes uncertain and worried and vulnerable, and Irvine doesn't bother undressing, crossing the room quickly and cupping Squall's cheek, kissing him softly.
"Hey, I'm okay, baby, no worries, see? Just a scratch. We're only late because Quisty doesn't have someone as beautiful as you to come home to." Irvine runs a hand down Squall's back coaxingly and then holds him tightly as he gives in. Squall grabs handfuls of Irvine's jacket and holds him there, holds him close, and Irvine lets him cling, lets him have his moment.
"If I find a single scratch or bruise on you now, I'm going to kick the crap out of you," Squall says softly, a little hoarsely, and Irvine laughs.
"Is that an invitation for me to get naked?"
Squall looks up and teases a little, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that always makes Irvine's stomach flip-flop, no matter why Squall is smiling. "I thought you were getting good at Squall-speak?"
Irvine gets his clothes off in record time.
----
Irvine is asleep, but Squall isn't. He sits up in bed, looking down at Irvine, sometimes running his fingers through Irvine's hair, gently freeing it from his hairtie and teasing out the knots. He sighs softly and speaks to his sleeping lover, says things he's not sure he could say with Irvine awake. "You know I... I love you. I couldn't stand it if you died. You mean... so much to me now. Please... stop getting hurt, stop coming back late... making me worry."
Irvine shifts in his sleep and Squall sighs and lies down beside him, wrapping an arm around him and pressing close.
"You know I used to be too scared to love anyone in case they left... please don't leave."
Irvine cuddles close and murmurs something in his sleep that makes Squall smile.
Pairing: Irvine/Squall
Warnings: Angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Squall worries more than is good for him. For
100_chances.Irvine tries to be quiet as he sneaks in, carefully shutting the door behind him and shedding his clothes, dropping them in a heap with his hat on the top. He can see Squall asleep in their bed, half curled into a ball, his hair falling into his eyes. He turns off the light and bites his lip when he bumps into the end of the bed.
Finally, he slips between the covers and wraps his arm around Squall's waist, finding him awake but tense and annoyed. Pressing a kiss to the back of Squall's neck, he sighs softly. "Sorry, baby. Did you worry?"
"No."
He runs his hand down Squall's side, feeling the tension ease only a little. "I don't believe you. Or... has something gone wrong?"
Squall sighs and relents, rolling over to face Irvine and sneaking his arm around his waist, burying his face against Irvine's chest. Irvine smells of gun oil and gunpowder and cologne and mint, a comforting alive smell. He doesn't say that sometimes he fears Irvine will return to him smelling of blood and death. But, softly; "I was worried that something had."
"Aw, baby, you have so little faith in me," Irvine teases, but then he lets that drop, knowing it won't help. "I'm okay, look. I've never even come back with a scratch."
"I'm glad you're a sharpshooter."
Irvine blinks at that and then gets it. "Yeah. You know there's no reason to worry. I'm normally not even in the action. Hell, sometimes poor Exeter doesn't get a single shot. Come here, baby."
And Irvine pulls Squall close and snuggles against him and kisses him, over and over again, and Squall kisses back, half dazed under the onslaught. And when Irvine tsks at the shirt and boxers he's wearing, he lets Irvine get them off, lets Irvine push him down and roll on top of him.
"You okay?"
He smiles a bit and nods and wraps his arms around Irvine, pulling him down and kissing him, hard and eager and just a touch desperate. And Irvine holds onto him and kisses back and then shows Squall exactly how much he wantslovesneeds him.
And he holds him after, too, holds him tight and safe, and Squall sighs his contentment.
"Crap, Squall is going to kill us," Irvine mutters as Quistis finishes bandaging his arm with a torn-off strip of her dress. "We're late and wounded."
"Don't worry about it too much," she suggests, smiling a little to herself. She thinks it's cute, the way Squall worries about the silliest and littlest of things, and the way Irvine does his best not to give him any reasons to worry, though she'd never say that to either of them. "He'll probably be so glad to see you that he just drags you off to bed."
"God, I hope so."
Quistis has to laugh at his hopeful tone, a little breathy like a heartfelt prayer. He's always thinking about sex; sex, Squall and guns, anyway. Not that she blames him. The two of them together -- god. And after being so repressed, she has to wonder how horny Squall must be.
"I don't mean for sex. I mean for rest."
Irvine's smirk is playful as he reaches up to tip his hat a little. "There's a difference?"
Squall is sat bolt upright in the bed when Irvine gets back, silent, his hair concealing his eyes. His back is straight as a blade, and he looks about as likely to have sappy welcoming home sex with Irvine as a chocobo looks likely to turn out to be a fire breathing monster.
Fortunately, Irvine is sure that chocobos have been known to breathe fire, so there's some chance of some good sex, even if it's a very small -- okay, miniscule -- one.
Squall casts curaga after a moment when neither of them seem to know what to say, and Irvine smiles and undoes the strip around his arm. "Thanks, baby. Me and Quisty were all out of cure by the time we got out of there. Not that we needed a lot -- but the bastards drew from us. I guess I'll need to go on a restocking trip soon."
"You're late."
"I know, I'm sorry..."
"Why do you always get into trouble on missions?"
Squall looks up, his question genuine, his eyes uncertain and worried and vulnerable, and Irvine doesn't bother undressing, crossing the room quickly and cupping Squall's cheek, kissing him softly.
"Hey, I'm okay, baby, no worries, see? Just a scratch. We're only late because Quisty doesn't have someone as beautiful as you to come home to." Irvine runs a hand down Squall's back coaxingly and then holds him tightly as he gives in. Squall grabs handfuls of Irvine's jacket and holds him there, holds him close, and Irvine lets him cling, lets him have his moment.
"If I find a single scratch or bruise on you now, I'm going to kick the crap out of you," Squall says softly, a little hoarsely, and Irvine laughs.
"Is that an invitation for me to get naked?"
Squall looks up and teases a little, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that always makes Irvine's stomach flip-flop, no matter why Squall is smiling. "I thought you were getting good at Squall-speak?"
Irvine gets his clothes off in record time.
Irvine is asleep, but Squall isn't. He sits up in bed, looking down at Irvine, sometimes running his fingers through Irvine's hair, gently freeing it from his hairtie and teasing out the knots. He sighs softly and speaks to his sleeping lover, says things he's not sure he could say with Irvine awake. "You know I... I love you. I couldn't stand it if you died. You mean... so much to me now. Please... stop getting hurt, stop coming back late... making me worry."
Irvine shifts in his sleep and Squall sighs and lies down beside him, wrapping an arm around him and pressing close.
"You know I used to be too scared to love anyone in case they left... please don't leave."
Irvine cuddles close and murmurs something in his sleep that makes Squall smile.
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