Title: Fireflies
Author: Traxits
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Irvine Kinneas/Zell Dincht, established relationship.
Rating: K.
Word Count: 352 words.
Request: Fandom: Author's choice, Pairing: Author's choice, Prompt: fireflies
Summary: Zell introduces Irvine to one of Balamb's traditions. Slice of life ficlet.
Author's Note(s): Written for the "Fic Promptly" community on Dreamwidth.

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[[ … One-Shot … ]]

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Zell lay, flat on his back, in the grass. It was warm enough that he'd peeled off, rolled up, and shoved his jacket under his head. His left foot propped itself up on his right knee, bouncing lightly. The sad fact was that he probably didn't even realize he was doing it. Irvine sighed, pushing his hat back just a little.

His own jacket was under Zell, abandoned the moment Zell had announced that he was going to lay down. Irvine didn't want to hear Zell complaining about itchy grass. Or hear him fidget the entire evening.

"So, where are these things?" He pushed a finger under his hat, rubbing a drop of sweat from his scalp before it rolled down to his face. Balamb's heat was almost oppressive in the summer, and they'd been just sitting there for what felt like forever already. He wasn't entirely sure how Zell was able to stand it, laying there with one foot bouncing slightly.

"And you're always telling me to be patient." Zell snorted, but he didn't move from his spot. "Give it a bit, would you?"

"Zell, it's hot. The sun went down like, an hour ago and it's hardly cooled off any. I-" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw a flash of yellow-green light. It was small, blinking and darting around the edge of the nearby tree line. Zell glanced at him, and there was just enough light to tell that he was grinning widely, having spotted what cut Irvine off.

"Wait for it," he murmured, and Irvine sat up a little, his eyes widening as a second light, then a third joined the first. Another few moments, and there were too many lights to count, all blinking in the same pattern, flitting around the field. Zell sat up as well, pulling his legs up so that he could fold his arms over his knees and watch.

"They're beautiful," Irvine whispered, and Zell leaned over, resting his cheek against Irvine's shoulder. "Glowworms?"

"Hah. You're a Galbadian tourist, all right. We call them fireflies."