"Wait, wait, wait. What the hell?"

Seifer had a hole in his sock. Quistis knew this because his feet had been twitching on the coffee table for the duration of their movie marathon. She had been tempted to paint his toenail, but that would have disturbed him, and Hyne knew he needed this escape from reality.

"What?"

It wasn't even really a question, more just a lazy conditioned response. She was curled on the couch, knees bent, head on his thigh. His quadriceps had tightened during the battle scenes, which amused her through the nine-plus hours of their weekend binge.

The hole disappeared, but that was because the credits were rolling and he was suddenly rigid on the couch, his feet planted firmly on the floor.

"They could have made it all the way to that mountain if those birds flew 'em!"

Her head moved only slightly through his indignation. She adjusted her cheek, pulled the flannel blanket tighter on her shoulders, made herself comfortable again.

"They're a very proud people. They aren't a taxi service."

They shouldn't have eaten the fajitas. She had ordered chicken, but the accompanying rice was sending her into some carbohydrate coma.

"It's not like they're leaving the bar after one too many. This is about saving the world, right?"

The credits were acknowledging the grips and crew now. At least, she thought that's what was scrolling on the screen. She was too drowsy to tell.

"Yes?"

Seifer shifted again. He yawned, but he wasn't ready to let go. He had questions, damn it!

"Then why wouldn't those hawks…"

"Eagles."

He would have argued, but his eyes were burning and it didn't seem that important. It had been a long evening, what with the evil warlord and the tiny people and the ale and the fireworks that were, admittedly, badass, and the hot elf queen, so he wasn't in the mood to discuss avian families.

"Whatever. Point is, why wouldn't they fly them to that lava hole so they could melt that damn ring?"

"Because this is a tale of bravery by the smallest among us in the face of adversity?"

Was she asleep? Surely not. This had been her idea, after all, begging him to take a day off to do absolutely nothing except watch television and eat take-out. She wouldn't sleep through all that laziness!

Er, would she?

He shook his leg as he propped both of them back on the coffee table. She nuzzled in closer and he felt something approaching guilt. She had moments when she could be awfully fucking cute.

"Adversity is looking at some giant war bird and telling it to fly you to the mountain of death before the entire planet is swallowed by some dickhead in armor."

"You'd really try to threaten a sentient being with talons like your gunblade when you're a third its size?"

Yep. She was gone. When she started mumbling, it was game over. Still, though! He had questions.
"I shouldn't have to threaten it! They oughtta know!"

He could feel the tendons in her jaw tighten as she yawned.

"Well, sometimes the most powerful don't understand until they feel the effects of…"

No, no, no, no! Not yet!
"Oh no. You are not falling asleep right now. We've got to watch the fourth one!"

"There is no fourth one."

Sure, shoot him in the heart. Destroy everything he held precious. Deny him his dreams. Tell him there was no jolly elf at the holidays.

"WHAT?!"

Ugh. Why was he still awake? The bed was only in the next room. Why didn't he ask her questions there? Where the comforter lived up to its name?

"The story is complete. What else is there to explore?"

Then again, the couch was huge. She had insisted on buying the widest model offered. Sure, it had a wine stain from one of Selphie's more energetic rants during a particularly nasty hockey match, but it was soooo comfortable. She slid back and pulled his leg with her, tossing the corner of the blanket over that hateful hole in his sock as she did so.

"That gray thing everyone kept talking about! And the giant trees!"

He finally slid onto the couch alongside her, tapping his fingers on her head when she moved her cheek to his belly.

"The Grey Havens?"

She was no longer mumbling. This was an entirely new language. If she hadn't been so goddamned warm and so goddamned soft, he would have tried to translate it. Trepelish. Trepenese. Quistlarian. The hell if he knew.

"Yeah! What is that?!"

She rubbed her nose, not at the bridge where her glasses often left red indentations, but with her palm, on the very tip, where he often poked her when they were alone together. It was such an innocent gesture that he half wished he had done it for her himself.

"I'll let you read my….my books…"

"There are books?"

The part of his brain that was still awake knew that he would be pestering her for those books the second they woke in the morning, but for now, he was content to let her drool on his belly.

He smiled, safe in the knowledge that he would be able to drive her crazy for the next few weeks, and because she would welcome all the questions he would throw her way.