Title: Fever
Author: Traxits
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Rating: Teen.
Content Notes: Heavy sexual tension, mild language.
Chapter Word Count: 3784 words.
Story Summary: Irvine is a rock star and Zell is there to watch his six.

[[ … Chapter IV: Broken Open … ]]

The salt air from the docks was a delight, especially after being cooped up in the train for so long. Tomo and Oren had marveled over the underwater tunnel connecting Timber to Balamb, and Zell had cheerfully explained its history on the trip back.

Then they'd arrived, and Zell must have looked longingly toward his house on their way to the hotel, because Irvine leaned over, wrapped an arm over Zell's shoulders, and made excuses for the rest of the day. Oren had taken them without any issues— he had a stage to build, after all— and Tomo had waved them out cheerfully, saying that she had to meet Lane anyway. Zell found himself standing in front of his door before he could even process everything that had happened.

He opened the door, breathed in the smell of fresh bread baking in the oven, and called, "Ma?"

"Zell?" She stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the small towel she had tucked in the front of her apron. Zell smiled— it had been far longer than he liked since he'd been home last— and when she closed the distance between them, she lightly touched his arm. "Oh, honey. It's good to see you." She grinned when she saw Irvine, and she held out her arms with a laugh. "C'mere, Irvine Kinneas."

A soft blush lit Irvine's face, and Zell's smile widened into a grin of his own when Irvine hugged her. The cowboy looked so at ease for that brief moment, even with the blush, that Zell almost couldn't believe it.

Then she was standing back, holding Irvine's upper arms between her hands as she studied him. "Far too skinny," she announced with a soft sigh. "Gotta feed you while you're here."

"Yes, ma'am," Irvine answered, ducking his head. No one argued with Ma Dincht. Ever. He glanced over toward Zell, and then asked softly, "Can I go see those rifles? I won't shoot one, promise."

Zell hesitated, and then he realized that Irvine was trying to give him some privacy without compromising his own safety. He nodded, jerking his head toward the stairs. "You know where they are," he said, and then Irvine headed up the stairs.

Ma looked over at him, a knowing smile on her face, and he felt a blush starting on his own face. "He seems nice," she said, and it took Zell another moment to realize what she was getting at. Quickly, he shook his head.

"It's not like that. He's... it's work, Ma. "

"Mm." She reached up to hide her grin, and Zell sat at the table, rubbing at the side of his face, wondering why the hell he kept blushing so damn hard. "I saw the performance in Timber."

He felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, and he risked a glance up at her. She was back in the kitchen area, pulling the loaf of bread out of the oven. "What?"

"Oh, sure. The TV was your father's, you know. It still picks up channels." She didn't look at him, but Zell found himself wishing that he could sink into the floor. "Some of the kids came over to see the performance, and I watched it with them."

"Just work, Ma. It was... It was the heat of the moment, yeah?" He pointedly stared at the wooden table top, and his fingertips found the indention that they always did when he was in trouble. He'd sat at that table for years, especially when Ma needed to 'talk' to him. The indention was worn so smooth it felt like silk. "Doesn't mean anything."

He listened to her cutting the bread, the crusty outside had a distinctive sound, and he swallowed thickly when she put a plate with two pieces, both smeared with jam, in front of him. "Well," she said softly, wiping her hands again, "Can't fault a mother for hoping. I like him, you know." She sat in the chair beside him, and she lightly covered his hand with hers, gently dislodging his fingers from the indention. "But so long as you're happy. How long will you be with him?"

He squeezed her hand slightly, and then he picked up one of the pieces of bread. He didn't eat it yet, just held it, the heat of it comforting against his fingertips. "Not sure," he finally said. "Long as he needs me, I guess." Then he added, "Well, I mean, to the end of the tour, of course. But I'm not sure how long after that."

"Why don't you take that up there and see if he's hungry? I'll cook something for dinner for you boys. You can invite the rest of the band too."

Zell smiled faintly, looking up at her. There was no arguing with Ma. Ever.

"Sure," he said, and he set the bread back down and took the plate up to his room. Irvine was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, one of the rifles in his lap. He looked up when Zell entered the room, and Zell set the plate down as he sat on the floor beside Irvine. "What are you doing?"

"These need to be cleaned. You don't have a kit?" Irvine opened the gun and then closed it again, looking over at Zell curiously. It was almost strange, seeing him without the stage make-up. Odd, how quickly he'd gotten used to it.

"No. I think it got thrown out. They're not being used, so why do they need to be cleaned? I dust them." Zell frowned, picking up a piece of bread and tearing off a bite.

Irvine snorted at him, but his smile was affectionate, not demeaning. "Just proper maintenance, Zell. What is that?"

"Bread?"

A sigh. "Obviously. The green stuff."

"Oh!" Zell grinned. "You're such a tourist when you're here in Balamb. It's a seaweed jelly. It's good. That one is for you."

Irvine hesitated, and then he offered a very small smile and shook his head. "Nope. I'm fine." He glanced back down at the gun in his lap, sighed, and stood to put it back.

"Don't like seaweed jelly?"

The cowboy glanced back at him, then shook his head. "Never tried it. Not planning on it." He put the rifle on the rack carefully, his fingertips sliding slowly down the others still hanging there.

"Such a kid." Zell grinned and took another bite. He didn't miss the way Irvine's fingers curled over each barrel of the rifles, how it was clear he was aching to hold them all. Not like he had enough hands anyway. "Are you planning on mooning over my guns all day?"

Irvine's eyes cut over to him, and then he crouched down by Zell on the floor. "I can't help it if you have impressive guns, Zell." His voice was low, and when his fingers brushed lightly over one of Zell's arms, Zell felt his face flush. Darkly.

"Stop it," he muttered, glancing back toward the door. It didn't matter that it was closed. Ma Dincht had x-ray vision; Zell was sure of it. "Ma saw the performance," he finally said softly. Irvine stilled, and then he sat back down all the way, looking at Zell curiously.

"Was she upset?"

"What? No." Zell scowled. Irvine was missing the point. "It's not that. I don't... I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, Irvine." He wasn't entirely sure what the wrong idea was, to be perfectly honest, but Zell did know that he didn't want any more confusion than had already happened. "You and I... we're not—"

"A couple?" Irvine leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. The position looked like it had to be uncomfortable, but the cowboy didn't seem bothered. "It's a performance, Zell. It's all show."

Zell swallowed thickly, and then he nodded. "Exactly." The word was like dust in his mouth, but at least Irvine had been the one to state the actual boundaries. "The ... the kiss after—"

"Just adrenaline." Irvine's smile was knowing, and Zell nodded again. They were on the same page and that was just as well, given the nature of their relationship.

"Exactly," he murmured. Adrenaline.


Adrenaline, his foot.

Irvine wasn't entirely certain what upset him more, the fact that he had found himself agreeing with Zell, casually sweeping something important under the rug, or the fact that Zell looked so relieved when they did. Whatever the case, as soon as they left Ma Dincht's house, Irvine headed down to the docks, where Oren already had their stage underway. He considered his options for a minute, and then he headed down to help.

"Irvine?"

"Don't have anything else to do today, Zell. Why don't you go set up a perimeter or something?" Irvine raised an eyebrow, and he was careful to keep his smile steady. "You have that team to set up, after all." When Zell didn't move, Irvine sighed and lifted his shirt just enough that Zell could see the revolver at his hip. "I'm okay."

Zell hesitated a moment more, but he must have agreed, because he finally nodded. "Be safe, yeah?" He headed back up toward the hotel, presumably to collect the rest of the security team.

Irvine blew out a breath before he sought Oren out of the small crew working. "You want an extra set of hands?" He peeled off his vest and, after just a moment, his shirt. Oren glanced up, smiled, and held out a hammer.

"Always welcome. You ditch your SeeD?"

Irvine snorted, and he took over attaching the piece that Oren had been working on. "Needed a little bit without his naivete." When Oren nodded but didn't ask anything else, Irvine glanced up at him. "Really? That's it?"

Oren shrugged. "If it were any of my business, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" He lifted another piece of wood and nodded toward it, so that Irvine would go ahead and start on it.

"Well, yeah. It's just... neither Tomo nor Zell would drop it that easily." Irvine was careful not to hit his fingers with the hammer. The last thing he needed was an ache right before he got up there to play.

"That's why you're here with me instead of up there with them." Oren chuckled as he glanced up toward the only entrance to the docks.

Irvine followed his gaze, and he couldn't stop the smile as he watched Tomo and Lane approach Zell. The crisp salute Zell offered them made Irvine laugh.

"He isn't what I expected," Oren said, even as he tugged on the newly secured board, assuring himself that it wouldn't go anywhere. "I mean, okay, I don't know many SeeDs, but... I just was expecting something else."

Irvine sighed before he looked back at Oren. "Better be careful. He'll get under your skin, and you'll never be rid of him."

A laugh, and then Oren handed Irvine another board. "Do you miss it? Traveling with them?"

There was a lull, where both of them stopped what they were doing. Instead, they simply looked at each other, and Irvine weighed the question, trying to decide how to answer. "I... Of course I miss it. I don't miss the constant danger or the … everything else that went with it, but I miss them."

"I wondered, you know. The first time I mentioned a band, you laughed at me." Oren's smile was small, and it didn't meet his eyes. "Then you came back after the chaos, and you wanted to know if I had any lyrics written that we could use."

"I was a jerk," Irvine murmured.

"When are you not?"

The new voice was familiar enough that Irvine twisted around to see who it belonged to. He straightened slowly, his hand instinctively moving to lightly hover just above the revolver on his hip. "Seifer. I wasn't expecting you here."

"Wasn't expecting to be here." Seifer approached him slowly, and Irvine studied him, wondering briefly what his end game was. He was darker, tanned from so much time outside, and his blond hair was longer than it had been. He was scruffier, as though he spent less time conforming to Garden regulations and more time simply being. He held out his hand, and after just a moment, Irvine took it.

It seemed as though the moment stretched for too long, both of them sizing each other up, trying to figure out exactly where they stood with one another. Finally, Irvine broke the silence with a quiet, "You look good. Better." He let his hand drop slowly, and at Seifer's faint smile, he felt odd. As though he'd said something unnecessarily cruel.

"Yeah," Seifer murmured, and he surveyed the work they were doing. "A stage? It's true then. You're some kind of big rock star?"

"First tour," Irvine replied, glancing back at Oren. "We've arranged storage of the stages at all the cities we're stopping at."

"Huh. Wouldn't it be easier to just transport a stage?"

"Sure." Irvine shrugged, and he moved to hold up a piece for Oren. "But then everyone here would have nothing to do all day."

"We like to put money back into the cities we're visiting," Oren explained, offering Seifer a smile. "Help out where we can."

"Where did you manage to get the money to start this?" Seifer brushed his hair back out of his eyes, and Irvine simply smiled. Seifer's eyes widened. "You're using the Kinneas money for this?"

Irvine went perfectly still. He had forgotten how much time Seifer had spent with the Galbadian army, honestly. He shrugged as casually as he could. "Why not? It wasn't being used for anything else of interest."

Seifer snorted, but a smile touched his lips again. "Not a bad plan," he said, and Irvine felt a little uncertain of whether he wanted Seifer approving of what he did. But they exchanged another look, and Irvine couldn't stop the smile then. No matter what happened, they had always been connected, similar in the strangest of ways. If nothing else, by the simple fact that neither of them were exactly SeeD material.

"I mean, obviously, I left enough for Galbadia Garden. Grandfather Kinneas is still Garden Master, after all."

"Liar." Seifer's eyes narrowed, and Oren froze, lowering the hammer in his hand.

Irvine raised an eyebrow with a small smile. "Am I?"

"Caraway secured your emancipation. You are the sole owner of the Kinneas fortune." Seifer leaned against the part of the stage that had been secured. He didn't smile, just studied Irvine. "I led the Galbadian army, Kinneas. You can't pull this sort of thing over me."

"Pull what sort of thing? Seifer, I'll need you to back up." Zell's voice was harsh as the little blond bounced back to the docks. He puffed out his chest, probably without realizing it, and Irvine ducked his head to hide his grin.

Seifer took a step back. "Dincht? What are you doing here?"

"Someone hired Garden as a bodyguard," Irvine explained with a little shrug. "Not entirely sure who, but I ended up with Zell."

"All the real SeeDs out on missions, Dincht?" Surprisingly, there was no malice behind the jab. It almost seemed like it was reflex.

Clearly, it still stung, because Zell flushed and raised a fist. Quickly, Irvine caught his arm and pulled him back. Zell, taken off balance, frowned at him, then Seifer, before finally settling on, "Yeah, well; at least I am a SeeD."

Irvine locked his jaw, stopping some equally snarky comment from escaping him.

Zell looked between them again before he asked, "What line was Irvine trying to feed you?"

Irvine swallowed. He hadn't explained anything to Zell yet, and the last thing he wanted was some distorted truth coming from Seifer. He opened his mouth—

"Irvine was trying to convince him to come to the concert," Oren supplied easily, going back to work. He cast Seifer a look, and Irvine breathed a sigh of relief as Zell failed to pick up on it.

Seifer simply shrugged, offering Zell a smirk. "Like I said, I don't think that Kinneas here can carry a tune in a bucket in private let alone on stage." He leaned against the stage again, and Irvine wrinkled his nose at Seifer.

"You're just jealous," Irvine decided, picking up the thread of the diversionary conversation easily enough. "I mean, all the girls are interested in is meeting me. Lead singer and all."

Zell scowled as he pushed Irvine. "If you're going to help Oren, why don't you actually help Oren instead of gossiping with Seifer? Seifer, sorry man, but you happen to be a security risk. Can't have you down here unsupervised."

Seifer spread his hands, the epitome of innocence. "I'm on my way out, Dincht. Honest."

Irvine smiled before he returned to work with Oren. This time, they didn't talk, and Zell stayed for a few more minutes before he finally jogged back up to talk to a group of the security team standing at the mouth of the docks.

The moment he was completely out of earshot, Oren asked softly, "You got your emancipation, Irvine? You told me Caraway fell through on it."

Irvine shook his head. "I never got any paperwork on it. It must still be at the manor somewhere. I'll find it after the tour." He licked his bottom lip, sighed again, and did his very best to focus on the work. By the time the stage was built, it was almost dark, and the band managed a light meal, mostly power bars.

Irvine sat for a long time in front of the mirror in his room, trying to get himself in the right head space for the concert. The work of building the stage had been a good idea; had worked off a lot of his anger at Zell and at himself. But the confrontation with Seifer hadn't been the very best of ideas.

He picked up the bottle of liquid eyeliner, held it in his hands for a minute, and set it back down. There was a slight rap on the outer door of the train car before it slid open, and Irvine looked up at Zell.

Zell was already made up and dressed up for the show. He had on an interesting blue eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and was wearing the signature black pants that all of the guys wore in New Generation. His shirt was dark blue, contrasting nicely with his tanned skin.

"You're not ready?" Zell frowned at him, and then leaned against the vanity as he looked at Irvine. "You're almost always ready first."

"I can't find it," Irvine murmured. "I can't find the thread I'm supposed to be on."

For a moment, he wasn't sure that Zell would understand. Then Zell crouched down beside him, smiled, and took the bottle of eyeliner from him. He reached across the vanity surface, found a make-up palette with eyeshadow, and selected a brilliant purple.

Irvine closed his eyes without being prompted. Zell's touch was lighter than Irvine expected, and a smile curved his lips. "I didn't think you knew how to put on make-up."

The brush disappeared for a moment before it returned, and Zell murmured, "Of course I do. We had to take multiple disguise courses. Didn't you have to take those in Galbadia?"

Irvine shrugged. "Not a SeeD, Zell. I have no idea." There was a minute of silence, and the brush finally returned once more.

"Right. Sorry. I forget that you turned Matron and Headmaster Cid down after we saved all existence."

Irvine wrinkled his nose before he blinked his eyes open. "I did what I felt was right. You, of all people, can't fault me for that."

Zell looked at him, and then he shrugged as he picked up the eyeliner pencil, leaving the bottle of liquid liner on the vanity. "I don't understand why you said no, Irvine. I don't get why you disappeared for three damned years before you came back as a freaking singer, of all things. How is this doing what's right?"

The pencil was light, despite the force behind Zell's words, and Irvine was very careful not to move. The last thing he wanted was to have an eye put out by a pencil in the hands of an excitable martial artist. Only when Zell was done did Irvine frown at him.

"I have my reasons. This tour is important."

"Where is the tenth stop, Irvine?" Zell leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "You've announced every stop on the tour except that one. Where is it?"

Irvine swallowed, but he was rescued by the rap of fingers on the door.

"Five minutes, Irvy!"

Irvine raised an eyebrow. "I still have to change, Zell. Gonna stay for that?"

Zell scowled before he slipped out the door, presumably to wait with Tomo. Irvine leaned forward until his forehead touched the vanity top, and he blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Balamb first. Worry about everything else tomorrow, Kinneas," he reminded himself, and he moved to get dressed. Black pants were a given, as was the hat sitting on the very edge of the vanity. He lingered for a few minutes on the tops though, finally settling on a black, long-sleeved top that he paired with the purple vest, something that wouldn't reveal the bulk of the ballistics vest.

He placed the hat on his head firmly, and for a minute, when he glanced in the mirror, it was like seeing someone else. Someone different. He reached out, touched a finger to his reflection, and then he headed out the door.

The stage welcomed him in a way that nothing else ever had, and he found himself slipping into that stage persona easily. He worked the crowd, laughing and cheering and coaxing even the straight-laced SeeDs in the back into singing along with at least two songs. He was careful to spend most of his time on the half of the stage away from Zell.

The last thing he needed was a repeat of the Timber performance, especially with Ma Dincht right there in the crowd, and Seifer standing with Fujin and Raijin near the back. It was a whirlwind of light, color, and music, and by the time he was saying goodnight, it felt as though he'd been singing for Balamb for days.

He didn't remember dinner with Ma Dincht, although he was sure that he laughed and offered jokes and smiled when spoken to. He just knew that he was exhausted, and the worst was yet to come.

They had to get a boat ride to Trabia.