And here I am once again assaulted by FFVIII plot bunnies. I seem to have permanently connected Christmas with this fandom, as the last christmas one-shot I wrote was also FFVIII; hmm...

I wonder-if-you-can\challenge-you-to figure out the inspiring song I wrote this to. Good luuuck~

Seifer lifted his head from his pillow with a groan at the damned pale morning light that dared to pour in through the open blinds covering the window. His memory of the night before was foggy at best and not helped by the persistent ringing of the cursed alarm clock blaring around the room he'd rented for well over the month he'd originally intended to now.

More than the things around annoying him, he noticed more the lack of something that should have been there. Sobriety fighting against his inebriation making the pounding in his skull ever worse, the blonde pushed himself up and looked around the room, seeing signs of habitation he always left- and nothing else. No black boots by the door, no fur-collared leather jacket over the back of one of the dining room chairs. His partner was neat, clean- fastidious, even- but not like this.

"Squall?"

Wincing at the pain even his own voice caused at the- well, it wasn't actually early, but dammit, it felt like it. Where had the dour man gotten to? Seifer never failed to wake up shortly after Squall left for whatever, it was as if his body could sense the lack of the other man's presence and objected to it by seeking it out.

In the back of his pounding brain, alarms louder than the fucking clock were blaring at him. He got up properly, a swipe of his hand silencing -permanently- the annoying bit of machination. The place hadn't looked so completely bare since the day he'd gotten there. What the hell did I do last night?

He dug into the side table for the aspirin he kept there for times exactly like this and swallowed them dry, racking his mind for the desired information. He could kinda remember calling Squall to come pick his drunk ass up, a minor scuffle over actually handing over his keys, time missing that he assumed was the drive, then being dragged inside. There'd been another tumble and somehow he'd ended up on top of Squall and- fuck.

With his mind starting to clear up from the fuzziness and aching, he spotted the note on the opposite endtable, stomach tightening with apprehension and his hand shaking as he reached out to pick it up, the damning words glaring back at him from Squall's elegant and small -economic- script. His own words echoed back at him and made him wince.

You've had time to think about it. You're not looking for anything permanent here.

The blonde let out an explosive sigh and ran his hand through his hair, "Dammit, Squall." He had said those very things- and more- when he'd first surprisingly found the brunette out here in the middle of nowhere. It had been strangely easy to fall in together, rivals and friends and always at each other's throats- and at each other's backs. One good bar brawl had cemented things.

And like the idiot he was always called, Seifer had poured out all his vitriol to Squall, stating with the conviction of a drunk man that he'd given up on all things romance and the only thing he'd settle for was a one-night fuck from then on. Squall had asked him -in that implying tone of voice that had completely gone over his head at the time- if he'd stay for something more substantial than that if he found it here, and Seifer, unthinking moron he could now fully admit to being, had said negligently he'd think about it, never imagining he'd find anything worth staying here for.

Six months later, he was still here, because Squall was here- or he had been, until Seifer'd once again fucked everything up. One hand harshly slapping his cheek at what an utter idiot he'd been, the blonde stood up and looked out the window to see exactly what he'd been suspecting, the black motorcycle was long gone, and Squall with it. Seifer's own truck- which had started out as a 'project' vehicle just to keep him from getting bored, was his pride and joy. He'd lost count of the hours he and Squall had spent on that thing, finally realizing he was never getting rid of it, and both of them being young and and wondrously idiots for the day, had dubbed their babies Lion Heart and Hyperion.

Eyes dropping from the window, he saw his keys laying accusingly on the floor where they'd probably fallen or been flung when he'd fallen on Squall. He picked up the keys and was half-way out the door before he realized he'd moved. He paused only for a moment to remember he was still pretty much living out of his truck and wasn't leaving anything too important behind before he closed the door behind him and headed for the front desk.

"Squall Leonhart."

The desk manager looked up at him and blinked, "Turned in his key this morning."

That was all the more he needed to know to confirm everything he feared. Seifer tossed his own room key at the manager and was out the door before the smaller man could comment, Hyperion's door slamming closed with the key already in the ignition and the blonde turning it before the slam resounded. He knew better than most anyone exactly how far and fast Squall could run when he was of a mind to: he didn't have a second to spare as he threw the truck into drive and headed into town.

Seifer didn't bother shutting off the engine when he reached the diner, simply throwing his faithfully abused vehicle in park before heading inside. From behind the counter, Selphie caught sight of him and sniffed disdainfully before purposefully turning away and going to play waitress. Irvine looked up from stocking something behind the counter and gave a confused face at not seeing his wife where she'd been just a moment before. Then he saw Seifer, too, and sighed, adjusting his hat and leaning on the counter, "Wondered how long it'd take ya to get here."

The blonde didn't waste any time, "How long has it been? Do you know which way he went?"

The retired sharpshooter looked around for Selphie before turing back to him, "Couple hours: maybe three- he came in just as we were opening up. Spoke with me an' Selph- upset her to hell of course: she was hoping he'd finally settled down this time, but when he said he had to get away, well... there was no denyin' who he was runnin' from."

"Shit."

"What'd ya do this time?"

"I was an idiot: I'll fix it. Now do you know?"

Another sigh, another check to make sure his wife wouldn't geld him for even speaking to the blonde, and Irvine leaned over the counter, Seifer not hesitating to lean in to hear, "Squall and Selph traded a few words when she asked. Now you did not hear this from me, but Matron's got that little place out near Tear's Point..."

Seifer nodded and was out the door before the russet-haired man could finish speaking. Of course Squall would take time out to go visit Matron when his life was once again falling apart. Within moments, the blonde was back on the road, not looking forward to the long drive ahead of him as he raced to catch up with Squall.

As the miles stretched before and behind him, Seifer cursed himself for the idiot Squall always called him. It wasn't like he'd been blind to how close they'd been getting over the months, in fact he'd been counting on it, but he was reminded sharply of Squall's well-deserved title of ice queen; of course the brunet was never going to be the one to initiate anything. He'd practically handed the blonde an invitation to try it himself, though, and Seifer hadn't even seen it until he'd fucked up his chance.

Then instead of sitting down like an adult and explaining things with Squall, he'd gotten his fool self drunk off his ass and thrown himself at the brunet for what Squall had obviously thought as a dual rejection and one-night stand.

It took a great deal of self restraint to keep from hitting his head against the steering wheel. He really had thought he'd gotten over the bad habit of acting before he thought things through after the war- obviously he still needed to work on that.

They both had things to work on. As soon as he caught up with Squall, he was going to sit the flighty man down and have a long talk about feelings, even if it left Squall with his head tilted like a puppy hearing a high-pitched noise. And they were going to discuss talking about their problems instead of assuming things and taking off cross-country to avoid said problems. Hmm, maybe that's a talk they should have had when Seifer had first run into Squall here; save them both a lot of trouble. How many of the issues throughout their lives would have been better handled if they'd just said something?

Seifer sighed and ran a finger across the scar on his face that mirrored Squall's, his other hand tightening on the steering wheel, "From now on, when we get into a physical fight over an argument, we're going to sit down and still talk about that argument after the fight is over, too."