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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Transfer
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Irvine/Squall/Rinoa
Warnings: Angst, sap
Rating: PG
Summary: Irvine does his best to sort things out, the only way he knows how. Rinoa gets to work and fixes things in her own way. Squall lets himself be fixed. Written for the Irvine fanwork-a-thon.
Irvine looks between the two of them and sighs softly to himself, leaning back in his chair with the kind of easy grace neither of them show right now, though he knows both of them can easily look three billion times more graceful than he, and especially when they dance together. That's why he's here, really. It's a pity to see them glaring at each other, Squall's back ram-rod straight and Rinoa's lips curled downwards in a frown that, while very fetching, makes Irvine want to squirm in his seat even though he's not the target.
"Well," he says, tipping his chair back a little and then promptly righting himself, since that's a bad habit he picked up on from spending too much time with Zell -- a habit inappropriate to this respectable, all-quirks-and-informalities-left-at-the-door kind of place. "This is certainly the weirdest date I've ever been on."
"It's not a date," Squall says, with so much ice frosting the words that Irvine flinches.
Rinoa doesn't say anything.
Irvine doesn't say anything more for a moment, and then he sighs. "Look, guys, if you let me set this up, you obviously want to talk to each other, so why don't you suck it up and start with an apology?"
"I did it to stop you bugging me," Rinoa says, wrinkling her nose just a little. Bingo, though, he thinks, because a smile is tugging at those downturned corners. He smiles at her, because her attempts and the scrunched nose are kind of cute, and he nudges Squall's leg gently under the table.
"So, mister commander sir, what's your excuse?"
It's Squall's turn not to say anything. Irvine sighs softly. Ever since Rinoa left, he's been trying to chip away at the sudden ice that's engulfed Squall to a ridiculous point -- more than ever before. So far, he's pretty much only succeeded for the duration of the time they're in bed together, and that only when they're actually having sex.
"I don't understand why you're doing this," Rinoa says, to fill the suddenly ever more uncomfortable silence. "I know that you and Squall -- "
"Squall loves you," Irvine says, quickly, as if it's easy to say. In point of fact, it hurts. It hurts like a stab of ice in the heart, but so does being in bed with Squall and knowing he's not the one Squall really wants there. The mask might crack for him then, but that's all that does. Squall's heart remains completely untouched. That's pretty much confirmed by the fact that Squall still doesn't say anything.
Rinoa takes a deep breath. Irvine knows full well that the argument that split them apart centered on Squall's difficulty with emotion. He's assumed that Squall never even told Rinoa he loved her, and judging from the look on Rinoa's face, he hit the nail on the head.
"Do you, Squall?"
There's a long pause and then Squall looks up, not answering the question, but posing another: "Do you love me, Rinoa? Really?"
Irvine kind of wants to just hit them both over the head, drag them off and stuff them in a cupboard together -- locked in, of course -- until they finally have to sort out their issues. But in their current state, Rinoa might just end up scratching Squall's eyes out or something. He sighs softly.
"Yes, I did," Rinoa says, firmly.
"Then I loved you."
"Squall, it can't be conditional like that, it -- "
"So why was your love for me conditional on me saying it?"
Irvine pushes his chair back a little. They're talking now, at least, and though he'll stick around as a peacemaker -- essentially to haul Rinoa away from Squall if she starts trying to scratch his eyes out -- he's ready to leave already. He doesn't really want to see them kiss and make up, despite them being a really cute couple, despite that being the whole point of this. He's already planned his transfer back to Galbadia Garden -- back home, he's told himself, though the words don't ring true.
He nearly falls out of his chair when Rinoa raises her voice, exasperated. "Why are you doing this, Squall? I mean... Irvine loves you, why are you letting him do this? I know you must have some feelings for him, otherwise you wouldn't be with him, so why are you putting him through this?!"
"Excuse me," he says, as soon as he can get a word in edgeways. "I don't love -- "
Rinoa gives him a withering look. The kind of look saying that he's stupid, and that he'd better stop talking right now or get her fist in his face. Despite not being much of a fighter and being a girl, Rinoa has a pretty mean right hook. Irvine closes his mouth.
Squall is looking at him as if suddenly seeing him in a new light. "Irvine..."
"It's nothing," he says, feeling as if ye olde icicles are busy stabbing him in the heart again. "It's really okay. I just want you to be happy. Happy's good, right? You and Rinoa made a really good couple. I was never going to mess that up."
Rinoa looks gleeful, like she's found some other ridiculous plan to make real. Squall is looking like he's had an epiphany. And Irvine stares down at the table, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do, only knowing that he needs to hurry up with that transfer to Galbadia or maybe just disappear into the ether, anything to escape Rinoa's knowing and Squall's realisation.
"Squall," Rinoa says, and she actually reaches out across the table and takes Squall's hand in hers. "I love you. I really do. I did and I do, that is. But it isn't really fair on Irvine for you to be here. Not unless..."
The two men wait. Rinoa's smile is more impish now than anything, like Selphie with explosives.
"Irvine," she says, softly, "I never really liked you. Before, that is. Now... Well, maybe this is a date. For all three of us."
Irvine doesn't know what to say. All he knows is that Squall is smiling, for the first time in weeks, and that Rinoa's smile is really kind of cute, even pretty, maybe even beautiful. And that maybe he doesn't quite need that transfer to Galbadia.
Not yet, at least.
Pairing: Irvine/Squall/Rinoa
Warnings: Angst, sap
Rating: PG
Summary: Irvine does his best to sort things out, the only way he knows how. Rinoa gets to work and fixes things in her own way. Squall lets himself be fixed. Written for the Irvine fanwork-a-thon.
Irvine looks between the two of them and sighs softly to himself, leaning back in his chair with the kind of easy grace neither of them show right now, though he knows both of them can easily look three billion times more graceful than he, and especially when they dance together. That's why he's here, really. It's a pity to see them glaring at each other, Squall's back ram-rod straight and Rinoa's lips curled downwards in a frown that, while very fetching, makes Irvine want to squirm in his seat even though he's not the target.
"Well," he says, tipping his chair back a little and then promptly righting himself, since that's a bad habit he picked up on from spending too much time with Zell -- a habit inappropriate to this respectable, all-quirks-and-informalities-left-at-the-door kind of place. "This is certainly the weirdest date I've ever been on."
"It's not a date," Squall says, with so much ice frosting the words that Irvine flinches.
Rinoa doesn't say anything.
Irvine doesn't say anything more for a moment, and then he sighs. "Look, guys, if you let me set this up, you obviously want to talk to each other, so why don't you suck it up and start with an apology?"
"I did it to stop you bugging me," Rinoa says, wrinkling her nose just a little. Bingo, though, he thinks, because a smile is tugging at those downturned corners. He smiles at her, because her attempts and the scrunched nose are kind of cute, and he nudges Squall's leg gently under the table.
"So, mister commander sir, what's your excuse?"
It's Squall's turn not to say anything. Irvine sighs softly. Ever since Rinoa left, he's been trying to chip away at the sudden ice that's engulfed Squall to a ridiculous point -- more than ever before. So far, he's pretty much only succeeded for the duration of the time they're in bed together, and that only when they're actually having sex.
"I don't understand why you're doing this," Rinoa says, to fill the suddenly ever more uncomfortable silence. "I know that you and Squall -- "
"Squall loves you," Irvine says, quickly, as if it's easy to say. In point of fact, it hurts. It hurts like a stab of ice in the heart, but so does being in bed with Squall and knowing he's not the one Squall really wants there. The mask might crack for him then, but that's all that does. Squall's heart remains completely untouched. That's pretty much confirmed by the fact that Squall still doesn't say anything.
Rinoa takes a deep breath. Irvine knows full well that the argument that split them apart centered on Squall's difficulty with emotion. He's assumed that Squall never even told Rinoa he loved her, and judging from the look on Rinoa's face, he hit the nail on the head.
"Do you, Squall?"
There's a long pause and then Squall looks up, not answering the question, but posing another: "Do you love me, Rinoa? Really?"
Irvine kind of wants to just hit them both over the head, drag them off and stuff them in a cupboard together -- locked in, of course -- until they finally have to sort out their issues. But in their current state, Rinoa might just end up scratching Squall's eyes out or something. He sighs softly.
"Yes, I did," Rinoa says, firmly.
"Then I loved you."
"Squall, it can't be conditional like that, it -- "
"So why was your love for me conditional on me saying it?"
Irvine pushes his chair back a little. They're talking now, at least, and though he'll stick around as a peacemaker -- essentially to haul Rinoa away from Squall if she starts trying to scratch his eyes out -- he's ready to leave already. He doesn't really want to see them kiss and make up, despite them being a really cute couple, despite that being the whole point of this. He's already planned his transfer back to Galbadia Garden -- back home, he's told himself, though the words don't ring true.
He nearly falls out of his chair when Rinoa raises her voice, exasperated. "Why are you doing this, Squall? I mean... Irvine loves you, why are you letting him do this? I know you must have some feelings for him, otherwise you wouldn't be with him, so why are you putting him through this?!"
"Excuse me," he says, as soon as he can get a word in edgeways. "I don't love -- "
Rinoa gives him a withering look. The kind of look saying that he's stupid, and that he'd better stop talking right now or get her fist in his face. Despite not being much of a fighter and being a girl, Rinoa has a pretty mean right hook. Irvine closes his mouth.
Squall is looking at him as if suddenly seeing him in a new light. "Irvine..."
"It's nothing," he says, feeling as if ye olde icicles are busy stabbing him in the heart again. "It's really okay. I just want you to be happy. Happy's good, right? You and Rinoa made a really good couple. I was never going to mess that up."
Rinoa looks gleeful, like she's found some other ridiculous plan to make real. Squall is looking like he's had an epiphany. And Irvine stares down at the table, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do, only knowing that he needs to hurry up with that transfer to Galbadia or maybe just disappear into the ether, anything to escape Rinoa's knowing and Squall's realisation.
"Squall," Rinoa says, and she actually reaches out across the table and takes Squall's hand in hers. "I love you. I really do. I did and I do, that is. But it isn't really fair on Irvine for you to be here. Not unless..."
The two men wait. Rinoa's smile is more impish now than anything, like Selphie with explosives.
"Irvine," she says, softly, "I never really liked you. Before, that is. Now... Well, maybe this is a date. For all three of us."
Irvine doesn't know what to say. All he knows is that Squall is smiling, for the first time in weeks, and that Rinoa's smile is really kind of cute, even pretty, maybe even beautiful. And that maybe he doesn't quite need that transfer to Galbadia.
Not yet, at least.