Pleasantly Frustrated
By Skandranon
Warnings : Irvine/Squall, rated R for graphic content (violence, language, sexual scenes)
Summary : Sequal to Pleasantly Depressed, Irvine and Squall are now a couple, and must now face the horrors of a relationship. Also, they fight a war, save the world, and get many owies.
Chapter One – "Snow at Night"
By the time he got around to addressing his appetite, his breakfast was stone cold, and he was too hungry to care. He gnawed through a rock biscuit absently as he reviewed the figures, quotes, quotas, statements, summaries, and other numbers that made up "the books", paying only enough attention to keep from getting crumbs on the paperwork.
Spending reviews could go death themselves, he groused, and continued filling out the spreadsheets anyway. Because that's what a Commander did, and if he'd known that when he signed up, he would've bolted for the nearest escape hatch.
Irvine had the arrogance to snore away, blissful and loud even from across the room like a woodcarver's buzzsaw. Six months now, and that snore still grated on his nerves. It was oh two thirty in the morning, but that was no excuse. Stupid sniper.
His ankle stung with a sharp bite, and he sighed. "Not now, I'm busy."
"Yrr yrr neao! Na geyouwdr!"
"Should've thought about that before you went to bed. I'll take you out soon as I finish this catalog."
"Hanoo sdaas?"
"Another hour or two."
Grrface flopped about on his foot, kicking its legs stubbornly. "Knya vaydr!"
Squall sighed, rubbed his forehead, forgot he had a pen in his hand and stabbed his cheek. Cursing, he flung it across the room to thunk against the window, then groaned and picked up another from his pen cup.
"Knya VAYDR!"
"I'm busy! Go in the bathroom or something!"
The moomba stilled to contemplate this new concept, then bounced into the bathroom.
The warm presence a few feet away rolled languishly. "Ain't cleaning f'he does," Irvine mumbled through the pillow.
Squall glared at how warm the bed looked, and tucked his cold ankles closer to the heating vent.
It was January, and that meant Festivus parties, consistent snow, and End of Year Review. Most of the SeeDs and students got to enjoy light workloads and snowball fights, and he got to enjoy two metric tons of papers that needed to be filled out, signed, copied, scanned, catalogued, and then came the fun part. Meeting with the budget analysts. Hyne he hated those two simpering little... civilians.
Though the window was frosted over, he was fairly sure it was snowing. He couldn't see any stars. He could barely see the ocean below, and the Estharian coastline off in the distance. Everyone and anybody were sound asleep. There weren't more than six lights on in the building. One of those would be Quistis', the workaholic. Another would be Zell, who never learned the meaning of the words "for Hyne's sake put down that joystick and go to bed you idiot". One might be Cid, since he did get insomnia often, and was prone to pacing in his office.
The sound of a splash echoed from the bathroom.
"You better not've done what I think you just did," Squall groaned.
"Arpa!" Came the cry from the bathroom, and the distinctive noise of a diminuitive feline trying to wiggle its way back out of a toilet. "Skoru! Arpa! Strkk strk!"
"Toldya," Irvine murmered, and started snoring again.
"Told me nothing, stupid rube." Squall whapped him with a pillow on his way past. "Burn the living… what've you gotten yourself into now?"
"Arpa! Gnyoudr!" A soaked Grrface wriggled on the inside of the toilet, and tried leaping to snag the seat, but couldn't get a claw hold, and ended up slipping back into the water. "Yik yik!"
"No kidding. You're lucky I cleaned that just yesterday." Pulling up his sleeve, he scooped up the damp fluffball and deposited him in the sink. "Did you go?"
"Nyedr."
"One or two?"
"Yen yen."
"Go in the sink." Squall turned on the faucet and ran his hands through it for a quick cleaning. Ignoring the spluttering critter stuck under the tap, he stumbled his way back to his desk.
It was only as he reached for another pen that he realized he was dripping on the vehicle inventory list.
"Fisting charred sonova bitchgrat!"
"Grats're asexual," Irvine muttered.
"Shut up you. Go back to sleep."
"Am asleep."
"Prove it."
He got a snore as his response.
He really hated that snore.
Grrface scampered into the room and dove straight for the towel bin in the closet, leaving wet carpet in his wake. Squall snapped his fingers to get the moomba's attention. "Toss me one of those."
The awkward toss landed the towel right in the middle of his receipt pile, scattering them across the desk, the floor, and in the trashcan.
"Sonova fuckfaced Centran saltfarmer."
"Shree shree."
"Sure you are you little demon. Go take a nap."
The orange critter shimmied its way up the edge of the bed and decided to nestle against the cowboy's shoulderblade, yawned cutely, and curled in to snuggle. Seconds later the cowboy was sitting up and had Grrface snagged by the scruff, dangling in midair. He squinted through bleary eyes at his lover. "Why is little bit soaking wet?"
"You don't want to know. Trust me."
"What…" yawn, "...time is it?"
"Two thirty in the morn- three in the morning."
Irvine slid his lean legs across the bed, kicking aside the cover, and shifted nearer to Squall. "You're working at three in the morning… why?"
"Couldn't sleep. Enough with the questions."
Irvine held up his fingers. "Two more, and I think they're related. Why is your shirt wet, and why-"
The Garden "oh shit we're under attack" alarm cut him off, deafening them both and sending the furball wriggling out of the cowboy's grasp to bolt under the covers.
"-IS THE BATHROOM FAUCET ON?" Irvine finished, already leaping towards the closet to grab his weaponry. He was speaking to air, as Squall was barreling down the hall, gunblade in hand.
He passed Selphie and a cluster of other students as he ran, weary and confused, but all armed. "Battle stations!" he hollered, not slowing. Selphie reacted fastest, ducking back into her room to drag a half-awake but also armed Raijin to his post.
The lights had cut on with the alarm, full voltage, but now they cut back out as the building shook with an impact, just as he entered the main hall. He kept going towards the elevator, trusting on the backup generators. He was vindicated a moment later when the lights flickered back on, but noticeably dimmer, and wavering. Smarter SeeDs in the hall had already pulled out flarebulbs and pocket lighters, and he snagged one from a younger cadet as he ducked into the elevator.
Then he realized that, thanks to budget cuts, the elevators didn't work on the backup generator.
"Fisting brightburnt…" he slammed a hand against the black panel, then hopped to grab the ceiling hatch. And remembered it had been fused shut last August after the infamous Prank War, part two. "Freaking fucker frickin'-"
A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him out into the hall, sending his adrenaline reeling. He only kept from swinging his gunblade out of instinct because he recognized Irvine's glove.
"You have got to cut down on the cussing, Commander."
"I get it from you," he snarled.
"C'mon, this way." The gunner turned away and vaulted a bench to land in the central fountain of the atrium, clambered onto one of the fish fountains, and pulled himself up into the decorative framework that surrounded the main elevator shaft. "C'mon!" he called over his shoulder, through the gunstrap held in his teeth.
"It's always something," Squall groused, bounding through the kneedeep water. At least it was chlorinated.
He estimated another minute and a half before he could get to his post, a nicely situated indoor/outdoor terrace near the top of the Garden, from which he'd have a lovely sniping view of most of the grounds. How convenient that Squall's post, the command deck, was along his way. He'd get to drop off his boyfriend. Should've packed him a sack lunch.
Of course, gravity taking a field day could delay him a bit. Was the room actually tilting?
The building rocked with an explosion, and shuddered. The ledge pulled away under him, until the angle was so severe that he lost his footing, clinging to the latticework with his hands.
Once the floor and ceiling of the main hall was became walls and he was dangling from the "bottom" of the horizontal elevator shaft, he decided that yes, the room was tilting. Off to his left, Squall was stuck crouched on the back of a fountain like a grumpy, scraggly gargoyle, peering down into what had inexplicably become a thirty foot drop.
"You alright?"
Squall flashed the "All clear" hand signal, but didn't look too pleased with his predicament.
Irvine noticed with a little bemusement that the fountain was empty, all the water having rushed down the floor and into the library hall below. Poor Ms. Miram was in for a treat.
That made him glance down. Oh dear Hyne long drop. Focus, focus. Most of the SeeD had slid down the floor to the far wall when the gravity had been shifted, but some were clinging to railings, fern pots, benches, and trashcans, all of which were thankfully bolted down. At the very bottom he spotted Xu trying to goad nearby officers into some sort of action.
"I'd say 'battle stations' wouldn't quite work like this," he called down, but she couldn't hear him within the din of sirens and groaning of engines and grating metal. Squall heard him, and flashed the "plan B" signal.
Irvine let go with one hand long enough to flash back the "there is no plan B, idjit" signal, and breathed slowly to rein in his shivvering. This was no time to panic mother of his mother long drop. Focus, focus, breathe. Heights bad. Breathe. If the enemy - whoever they were - entered the Garden, they'd probably have as much trouble with the surreal angle as the SeeDs would. His role was to get somewhere high and snipe, and as locations went, the "top" of the elevator shaft might be considered nicely high right now, at least until he could figure out how to scale the hall to the cafeteria. The sculpting went all the way around the elevator shaft, so he could probably haul himself up to the other side.
Except life decided to give him the fingers, and he felt the iron latticework, sturdy but never meant to hold loads, strain under his weight in a manner that suggested that it wouldn't be putting up with his annoyance too much longer.
"Whoo boy," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut as the stark terror shot through him. Focus, focus. He scanned the sculpting above him. There, just to his left was another section of latticework. If he could shift half his weight to it, he should be fine. Flexing his arm muscles, he twisted his body up and towards the left, delicately careful to keep his movements fluid and measured.
Nope, said life, I already gave you the fingers, so it'd be awkward to let things work out alright, and the lattice twisted downwards with a screech. The movement threw off his balance and he abrubtly found himself holding on to nothing whatsoever, and the floor, er, wall, was coming at him rather fast.
Thirty feet is not much time for a great deal of freaking out, but Irvine got in his fair share.
Float!
The spell wrapped around him in wafty chill ripples, and he touched down next to Xu, throwing her a plaster grin to cover his trembling.
"Showoff," she grumbled.
"Always," he smirked, shuddered, and glanced up at Squall, who was shouting something he couldn't hear, and flashing the international "you fucking idiot" signal. He waved back and got a return scowl.
Shots smashed the windows in the floor nearby. He dropped to all fours, fumbled in his pockets, and lobbed a grenade through the broken plastiglass. Damn, if they could break the triple pane stuff that easily, they must be sporting hand cannons.
Squall landed beside him with a fierce thud, a Protect crackling as it absorbed the impact. He hefted his blade and leapt, following the grenade out the window, fading into the smoke.
The garden tilted back again like a seesaw, and Irvine slid the four feet to the new floor, the real floor. So did the rest of the students next to him, and all the loose furniture. Xu landed on his shoulders with her breasts in his face. She was nicely small; her uniform didn't do them justice.
He pushed her off, and blinked owlishly at Seifer.
Seifer blinked owlishly back at him.
Seifer was wearing a Centran uniform.
Seifer shot him with a tranq gun.
