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FFVIII: Comfortable
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Rinoa and Seifer talk about dreams. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fated_children.
Rinoa leaned against his shoulder comfortably as they looked up at the stars. Seifer didn't much mind. To his mind, being his ex-girlfriend, she had a right to hang all over him occassionally, since she wasn't the type he'd had a messy break up with, or the type that he still had the occassional fling with. After checking that Squall wasn't around, 'cause no doubt Mr Emotionally Constipated would take it wrong, he even put his arm around the girl.
"Still got romantic dreams?"
"Sometimes."
He used to have bright-edged dreams of fame and glory. He used to tell her about them, too, on nights like this but in Timber, not in Balamb, not in Balamb Garden as dancers whirled behind them in celebration of winning a war they were fated to fight. He misses the quiet nights in Timber. He doesn't begrudge them the dancing, really, but there've been enough parties.
"Well?" She nudged him gently, elbow in his ribs. "Aren't you going to tell me about them?"
He ran his hand up her back, just a friendly gesture, a warm caress, a spark of the old familiarity. "No."
She settled her head more comfortably against his shoulder, smiling slightly. "Hopefully they don't involve sorceresses any more."
"Definitely not. Not even cute ones."
"Meanie."
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Rinoa and Seifer talk about dreams. For
fated_children.Rinoa leaned against his shoulder comfortably as they looked up at the stars. Seifer didn't much mind. To his mind, being his ex-girlfriend, she had a right to hang all over him occassionally, since she wasn't the type he'd had a messy break up with, or the type that he still had the occassional fling with. After checking that Squall wasn't around, 'cause no doubt Mr Emotionally Constipated would take it wrong, he even put his arm around the girl.
"Still got romantic dreams?"
"Sometimes."
He used to have bright-edged dreams of fame and glory. He used to tell her about them, too, on nights like this but in Timber, not in Balamb, not in Balamb Garden as dancers whirled behind them in celebration of winning a war they were fated to fight. He misses the quiet nights in Timber. He doesn't begrudge them the dancing, really, but there've been enough parties.
"Well?" She nudged him gently, elbow in his ribs. "Aren't you going to tell me about them?"
He ran his hand up her back, just a friendly gesture, a warm caress, a spark of the old familiarity. "No."
She settled her head more comfortably against his shoulder, smiling slightly. "Hopefully they don't involve sorceresses any more."
"Definitely not. Not even cute ones."
"Meanie."