![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
FFVIII: Anniversairy
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Ten years since the day they scarred each other. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fated_children.
"Ten years," Seifer says, from just behind him, making him flinch and then spin around. Seifer raises his hands as if in surrender -- or maybe, Squall thinks, his eyes narrowing just a little bit, Seifer is playing with him, making fun of him for the jumpiness that he thinks will never leave him. That's what puts a snap into his voice, even though they've had a truce these past nine years -- maybe, like Seifer says, ten.
"Since?"
"Since we scarred each other." Seifer glances at the time and smiles a little. "Nine years, three hundred and sixty four days and twenty hours, actually. When we actually got early nights and woke up early to spar at oh-six-hundred."
"I haven't got up at oh-six-hundred in at least five years," Squall says, and he can't help the tiny smile curving his lips in response. He takes a step forward, closer to the window, tipping his head back to look at the moon. For a moment, there's a comfortable silence.
"I thought we could celebrate it with something more friendly," Seifer says, after that moment. He steps up closer to Squall, and their shoulders brush. Squall doesn't step back as he might've done, ten years or as little as ten minutes ago.
"Us? Friendly?"
"Stranger things have happened. For example, a minute ago, you smiled."
"Fuck you, Almasy," Squall murmurs, almost by instinct. An instinct kept sharp through all those ten years. He smiles again at the ridiculousness of it.
"There, see? You're smiling again. Be careful, you might strain something."
"Shut up," he says, looking away so Seifer can't see the continuing smile. Seifer lapses into silence and Squall lets it hang over them for a moment, exploring it. For so long there's been tension in any gaps between, gaps that once Rinoa filled with chatter, and now remain empty. He's stopped missing her, most of the time. The old stab comes back -- and so he speaks to will it away. "Something more friendly?"
"A coffee, I thought. Since we're obviously not going to sleep."
"No sparring, then?"
Seifer laughs softly. "Have you even taken Lionheart out of her case in the last eight years since you became headmaster, Leonhart?"
"Squall," Squall says, frowning slightly. When Seifer looks puzzled, he rolls his eyes. "If we're going to be friendly, you can use my name. And... of course I've taken Lionheart out of her case. I haven't trained as much as I'd like, but..."
"That's something we'll have to fix then... Squall," Seifer says. It sounds like he's testing the sound, tasting it. Squall glances up to catch the tail end of a quick grin. "But not this morning. If we're to be friends, there's no way that's a good idea, on the anniversairy of us scarring each other."
"I never understood why we both had scars... you could cast Fire spells, so you probably had Cure spells as well. What happened after I blacked out?"
"I'll tell you over coffee," Seifer says, already turning on his heel. He raises an eyebrow, an unfamiliar note in his voice. "Your place or mine?"
"Mine," Squall says, wondering if Seifer meant to sound so suggestive. "I have better coffee."
"How can you know that?"
"Is yours imported from Esthar?"
"Is Estharian coffee really that good?"
Squall shrugs slightly. "My father swears by it, and it is good. I'm convinced that's the only reason he never gets more grey hairs. And the only reason why I don't have grey hairs. I understand why Cid was so eager to have me take over as headmaster."
"Much work?"
"Work, and bureaucracy, and politics," Squall shrugs again. He pauses to key in his code, and then lets Seifer into his room, following him and smiling in satisfaction at the surprise on his face. "There are some... benefits."
"I imagined you still sticking to your broom cupboard," Seifer says, looking around at the room -- bigger than the standard room, with bookshelves for books and a television and a radio -- and pretty much everything else Squall could ever want.
"I did for a while," he says, going to make the coffee. He doesn't say anything more as he does so, watching Seifer out of the corner of his eye as he wonders around the room. He reads the spines of books, raising an eyebrow at some of them. He pokes through piles of CDs and DVDs, apparently intrigued. Squall rolls his eyes, pouring the coffee and picking up the mugs, feeling the heat and wishing his hands were still gunblade-calloused and his skin thick and rough, to make carrying hot drinks easier. "Coffee, Seifer."
"Thanks," Seifer says, and he looks oddly subdued. They sit together, Squall half curled up -- oddly relaxed, to Seifer's eyes.
"So..." Squall stretches a little, sipping at his coffee. "What did happen ten years ago?"
Seifer shrugs a little, looking down into his coffee, sure it can't be cool enough to drink. "You passed out. I didn't really think... I'd pushed it too far and all I could think about was getting you to Kadowaki. She tries not to use potions for minor injuries she can just bandage... potions are expensive. I stayed until just before you woke up, so I was in about the same shape since I didn't cast a spell or take a potion. That's all."
"Oh." Squall settles back, taking a few more sips of his coffee.
Seifer doesn't mean to kiss him. But with one thing and another, to do with Squall's calm, half-sleepy expression and his lovely grey-blue eyes, he does, and when he pulls back, he's holding his breath. For a moment Squall just looks at him, and then he carefully sets his coffee down with a little click on the wooden table. Seifer wonders if he's about to get punched in the mouth: not outside the realm of possibility, at least in his opinion.
Instead, Squall kisses him, as if it's something they've done before, natural, easy. And he speaks as if continuing a conversation from earlier, his tone almost light, and Seifer has to wonder whether what he's hearing is Squall being happy for once in his overly miserable life.
"Do you wish things had turned out a different way?" Squall asks, and he can still taste Seifer's kiss on his lips, bitter and sweet and startling, all at once. There are no revelations, and the world hasn't stopped turning. But something has settled inside him, and he tilts his head up to meet another kiss, settles against Seifer's warm body when an arm wraps around him.
"Do you think we'd be here if they had?"
"I don't know."
"Then I think I prefer this way."
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Ten years since the day they scarred each other. For
fated_children."Ten years," Seifer says, from just behind him, making him flinch and then spin around. Seifer raises his hands as if in surrender -- or maybe, Squall thinks, his eyes narrowing just a little bit, Seifer is playing with him, making fun of him for the jumpiness that he thinks will never leave him. That's what puts a snap into his voice, even though they've had a truce these past nine years -- maybe, like Seifer says, ten.
"Since?"
"Since we scarred each other." Seifer glances at the time and smiles a little. "Nine years, three hundred and sixty four days and twenty hours, actually. When we actually got early nights and woke up early to spar at oh-six-hundred."
"I haven't got up at oh-six-hundred in at least five years," Squall says, and he can't help the tiny smile curving his lips in response. He takes a step forward, closer to the window, tipping his head back to look at the moon. For a moment, there's a comfortable silence.
"I thought we could celebrate it with something more friendly," Seifer says, after that moment. He steps up closer to Squall, and their shoulders brush. Squall doesn't step back as he might've done, ten years or as little as ten minutes ago.
"Us? Friendly?"
"Stranger things have happened. For example, a minute ago, you smiled."
"Fuck you, Almasy," Squall murmurs, almost by instinct. An instinct kept sharp through all those ten years. He smiles again at the ridiculousness of it.
"There, see? You're smiling again. Be careful, you might strain something."
"Shut up," he says, looking away so Seifer can't see the continuing smile. Seifer lapses into silence and Squall lets it hang over them for a moment, exploring it. For so long there's been tension in any gaps between, gaps that once Rinoa filled with chatter, and now remain empty. He's stopped missing her, most of the time. The old stab comes back -- and so he speaks to will it away. "Something more friendly?"
"A coffee, I thought. Since we're obviously not going to sleep."
"No sparring, then?"
Seifer laughs softly. "Have you even taken Lionheart out of her case in the last eight years since you became headmaster, Leonhart?"
"Squall," Squall says, frowning slightly. When Seifer looks puzzled, he rolls his eyes. "If we're going to be friendly, you can use my name. And... of course I've taken Lionheart out of her case. I haven't trained as much as I'd like, but..."
"That's something we'll have to fix then... Squall," Seifer says. It sounds like he's testing the sound, tasting it. Squall glances up to catch the tail end of a quick grin. "But not this morning. If we're to be friends, there's no way that's a good idea, on the anniversairy of us scarring each other."
"I never understood why we both had scars... you could cast Fire spells, so you probably had Cure spells as well. What happened after I blacked out?"
"I'll tell you over coffee," Seifer says, already turning on his heel. He raises an eyebrow, an unfamiliar note in his voice. "Your place or mine?"
"Mine," Squall says, wondering if Seifer meant to sound so suggestive. "I have better coffee."
"How can you know that?"
"Is yours imported from Esthar?"
"Is Estharian coffee really that good?"
Squall shrugs slightly. "My father swears by it, and it is good. I'm convinced that's the only reason he never gets more grey hairs. And the only reason why I don't have grey hairs. I understand why Cid was so eager to have me take over as headmaster."
"Much work?"
"Work, and bureaucracy, and politics," Squall shrugs again. He pauses to key in his code, and then lets Seifer into his room, following him and smiling in satisfaction at the surprise on his face. "There are some... benefits."
"I imagined you still sticking to your broom cupboard," Seifer says, looking around at the room -- bigger than the standard room, with bookshelves for books and a television and a radio -- and pretty much everything else Squall could ever want.
"I did for a while," he says, going to make the coffee. He doesn't say anything more as he does so, watching Seifer out of the corner of his eye as he wonders around the room. He reads the spines of books, raising an eyebrow at some of them. He pokes through piles of CDs and DVDs, apparently intrigued. Squall rolls his eyes, pouring the coffee and picking up the mugs, feeling the heat and wishing his hands were still gunblade-calloused and his skin thick and rough, to make carrying hot drinks easier. "Coffee, Seifer."
"Thanks," Seifer says, and he looks oddly subdued. They sit together, Squall half curled up -- oddly relaxed, to Seifer's eyes.
"So..." Squall stretches a little, sipping at his coffee. "What did happen ten years ago?"
Seifer shrugs a little, looking down into his coffee, sure it can't be cool enough to drink. "You passed out. I didn't really think... I'd pushed it too far and all I could think about was getting you to Kadowaki. She tries not to use potions for minor injuries she can just bandage... potions are expensive. I stayed until just before you woke up, so I was in about the same shape since I didn't cast a spell or take a potion. That's all."
"Oh." Squall settles back, taking a few more sips of his coffee.
Seifer doesn't mean to kiss him. But with one thing and another, to do with Squall's calm, half-sleepy expression and his lovely grey-blue eyes, he does, and when he pulls back, he's holding his breath. For a moment Squall just looks at him, and then he carefully sets his coffee down with a little click on the wooden table. Seifer wonders if he's about to get punched in the mouth: not outside the realm of possibility, at least in his opinion.
Instead, Squall kisses him, as if it's something they've done before, natural, easy. And he speaks as if continuing a conversation from earlier, his tone almost light, and Seifer has to wonder whether what he's hearing is Squall being happy for once in his overly miserable life.
"Do you wish things had turned out a different way?" Squall asks, and he can still taste Seifer's kiss on his lips, bitter and sweet and startling, all at once. There are no revelations, and the world hasn't stopped turning. But something has settled inside him, and he tilts his head up to meet another kiss, settles against Seifer's warm body when an arm wraps around him.
"Do you think we'd be here if they had?"
"I don't know."
"Then I think I prefer this way."