A/N: I'm so sorry x'( I have had some serious writters block and haven't uploaded anything in forever! I am ashamed to say it has taken my months to write anything and I am also quite ashamed to say I have not uploaded for good cop bad cop in nearly a year! Terrible I know! Positively sacriledge...
Well if you want to know what the title says, it's 'Can I dance with you?'. If you don't believe me and want to check it out for yourselves, type it into google translate under Afrikaans. Coincidently, there is a fantastic song under the same name, by straatligkinders. Go check it out, the guitar is amazing...
well enjoy - if that's possible ¬¬
Kan Ek Met Jou Dans?
Quistis sighed, her hands falling to her hips as she frowned in agitation at the boxes on her bed. She thought she'd told him she was busy tonight and couldn't continue with her 'rehab'.
"You're a workaholic." He said, watching her scribbling away on the paper, her eyes narrowing at him momentarily in annoyance before darting to the screen for reference.
"I am not a workaholic," she said calmly, her voice carefully regulated and in her best no-nonsense tone. "I simply understand the need for a decent work ethic, unlike somebody we both know."
He chuckled and dropped himself into the chair on the opposite side of her desk, green eyes watching the movement of her pen across the paper. "What are you working on?"
"Freshers' listings."
"For Squall?"
"..."
"Isn't that administrative work? Why are you doing it?"
"Because he was busy."
Seifer raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "That still doesn't explain why you're doing it."
Quistis sighed and stopped working, sitting up and removing her glasses to fix him with 'that' look. "What's your point?"
"My point is," He said, sitting up and reaching a hand across the table, his index finger coming forward to tap the papers in front of her. "You're doing extra work that wasn't assigned to you. Work-a-hol-ic."
Walking over she picked up the envelope from on top of the box and flipped it open, yanking out the paper inside. It was no shock to see it was from Seifer – he had been the only one showering her with gifts and confetti for the past month and a half (Although admittedly the gifts were more ridiculous than heartfelt) – and she was half inclined toward tossing the whole lot in the bin and ignoring him entirely. But while she might have acted cold and aloof in her work, the attention was not unwanted and she would be lying through her teeth if she said she didn't enjoy it.
"Come on, Instructor," he coaxed as she shook her head and turned to walk away down the corridor, picking bits of confetti out of her hair, "I was only having fun."
"At my expense." She said still walking away from him, although his long stride was doing little to help her escape-attempt. "You've also created a bloody great mess in the hallway."
"The maids will get it I'm sure." He whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Shivering, Quistis spun suddenly crashing into Seifer, who hadn't been able to stop in time.
"I would appreciate it if I didn't have to keep checking over my shoulder all the time to made sure I'm not going to be drowned in bubbles or whisked out a window or covered in confetti for the whole garden to see, thank you."
"Of course M' Lady," Seifer grinned, then offered his hand with a slight bow. "Lunch?"
Raising her eyebrows slightly at the letter, Quistis turned to the boxes underneath it. The first box was a shoe box containing a very nice pair of red suede heels. Raising her eyebrows appreciatively, she kicked off one of her own heels and slipped the new one onto her foot. To her amazement it fitted perfectly, which of course raised the question of how Seifer knew her shoe size?
The second box contained a dress, mid-thigh length, red, thick straps and it had a satin sort of feel to the material that shimmered dimly in the light. It was perfectly in her size, everything down to the bust and she felt herself reddening at the thought of Seifer knowing exactly what bra size she actually was, let alone having to face him with the knowledge of her double-Ds.
Shaking off the thought, she laid the dress out on the bed and went to the bathroom, if she hurried she could get ready in the hour he had left her. 45 minutes later and Quistis was ready, even having fished out some red earrings to go with her dress, the tiny dangles resting nicely in her hair. She'd left it down as per Seifer's instructions and now it was curling at the edges. She hated leaving her hair down for that exact reason and he hadn't left her enough time to straighten it and wetting it down would just make it curl even more. Glancing at the clock on her night stand, Quistis sighed and headed for the exit. Time to meet her prince charming, she supposed, if he even turned up of course.
Outside the restaurant Désir Noir, Seifer was waiting with his hands in his pockets and a carefully constructed look of patience written on his face. Patience was undoubtedly the key to working with Trepe and the carefully constructed looks and barely concealed mirth was what had gotten him into the position to ask her on an 'excursion' with him now.
My dear Instructor,
As your personal workaholic rehabilitation officer,
I recommend an evening's excursion from Garden,
with no thoughts of paperwork or exercise for the
duration of said excursion. I will expect you to
wear the dress and shoes provided, with your hair
down and make-up to suit. If you are not present
at the Restaurant Désir Noir by 7:30 PM tonight, I
will take it upon myself to think up some gruelling
punishment that you will not enjoy in the slightest
- trust me.
I trust I will see you there,
Seifer.
He hadn't missed the fact that it was a little short notice, but if he knew Trepe, the only thing she would have planned for tonight would be marking papers and a date with a T-rexaur. In his opinion, they were no reasons to decline his proposal and certainly nothing to be missed.
Resisting the urge to check his watch for the millionth time, Seifer began thumbing a box in his pocket. It was a lot like the boxes he'd left in Quistis' room earlier, except this one was wrapped and of a little bit more importance than the others. He winced a little at the thought of how much this entire evening would cost him, and he wasn't sure how he would explain the expenses to anyone if asked, but he was determined the evening would not be a waste. That was if Trepe even turned up.
But just as that thought ran through his brain, a black cab pulled up in front of him and Quistis herself clambered from the back seat. She was dressed in the clothing he'd picked out for her and had even arranged her hair and make-up how he wanted, the small flower pinned into her hair greatly complimenting the rouge lipstick she had on. He had to remind himself to breathe and slap on a smirk.
Seifer himself was dressed in a plain suit, minus the tie and Quistis found the change refreshing. Shutting the cab door she clutched her handbag in both hands as she stepped forward to meet him. He had that infuriating smile back and was looking her up and down with a less than innocent look in his eyes. She couldn't decide whether that was a bad thing or not.
"Good evening instructor." He grinned, offering her his arm when she got close enough, "I love the dress."
Rolling her eyes, Quistis strung her arm through his and let him lead her inside.
The ballroom was decked out in all the trimmings she could remember from her own SeeD Graduation Ball, everything from the punch tower in the corner to the balloons floating around at the ceiling, all blues and golds and tied together with white ribbons. She gazed out over her students – the few who had made SeeD and the others who didn't – and felt herself transported back, all those years ago to when she was seeing it all for the first time.
Predictably though, her peace was not to last for long. A hand slipped round her waist, thumb brushing the skin exposed by the backless dress – Selphie's doing, not her's – and a voice murmured somewhere above her, "I love the dress."
The restaurant itself was an interesting affair with table designed specifically for two and a red velvet carpet leading the way to an open floor – for dancing she supposed. There were lit candles on every table and the lights were turned down low, a live orchestra of three played softly in the corner – very romantic, for once.
They were ushered to a table by the dance floor and Seifer even remembered to hold out her chair for her. Once they were seated a waitress handed them menus – giggling horrendously and not even looking at Quistis as she handed her the menu – and it was then that Quistis decided she was going to get to the bottom of this little... Charade.
"So," She began, pretending to peruse the wine list, "this 'excursion'. Why do I need an excursion?"
"Because you need to know how to have fun." Seifer replied, also pretending to select a drink.
"And why do I need to be dressed up like a hooker?"
He let the menu fall and gave her a look of shock before scanning her appearance and shaking his head, "My dear Instructor, you are no hooker! You look positively exquisite this evening and no mere hooker has ever received such a compliment from me."
She rolled her eyes at him, hiding her blush behind her menu and replying, "But no mere instructor had ever dressed in a skirt this short to sit in a darkened room with a man and the intentions of innocent fun, Mr Almasy."
He wiggled his eyebrows and she blushed again, glancing around the room at the other couples as he gestured for the waitress to come back over, "I think we'll have the chardonnay please and Quistis-" He brought her attention back to the table, "Some water?"
She nodded, then waited for the girl to leave again before muttering, "Simpering idiot..."
"What was that?" Seifer asked, one corner of his lips pulling into a smirk. Of course he'd heard her, he just wanted her to say it again.
"I called her a simpering idiot."
"Why?"
"She's not doing her job, she's flirting with the customers instead and hasn't taken her eyes off you since we entered the room. If she'd that desperate a whore I'm sure someone would pick her off the streets no trouble, a skirt that short and a look on her face that says she's already half-way there." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and went back to skimming the menu, "Insufferable nitwit, drooling over strangers. Disgusting."
Seifer, for his part, didn't know whether he should be insulted by that comment or laugh at it. Despite the implications to him being a last measure for desperate women, he chose the latter. "That has got to be one of the most unforgiving speeches I've ever heard you give." He grinned shaking his head and wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. "It's almost worth calling her over for her to hear!"
Quistis glared at him over her menu and kicked him hard in the shin, enjoying his look of immediate discomfort. "If you so wish to hear it again I'm sure I could construct one around your good self."
"That's not the only thing you'd be constructing around my good self." He mumbled, earning him another kick, in the other shin.
"I really wish you would not fight with me, Seifer, you're ruining the mood." She smiled sweetly and he nearly forgot how to breathe.
"The mood where you break my legs and insult the staff?" He asked, his voice just as calm and 'loving' as the waitress set the two bottles down on the table.
"Would Sir care to taste?" The waitress – Kellen, if her badge stated correctly – asked in a sugary voice, tilting the bottle slightly and running a couple of fingers – complete with stick on nails – around the neck of the vessel suggestively.
"Would you do the honours," Seifer asked Quistis, a teasing glint in his eye as he added, "Darling?"
"I'm afraid we can't offer alcohol to under 18s." Kellen said, eyeing Quistis scathingly. Outraged at the girl's impertinence, she was about to reply as such when Seifer's booming laugh stopped her in her tracks.
"M' Lady is more than woman enough for a bottle of wine!" He laughed, positively grinning from ear to ear at the two woman fighting in silence before him. "And if she were under 18, I'd like to think she would be more inclined to do as I say."
"I'd love to taste the wine, Kellen," Quistis said, her freezing cold gaze directed at someone other than the man across from her – something he was really quite glad of – "If you can tear your gaze away from my Fiancé long enough to uncork the bottle."
If Kellen was thinking any differently of Seifer now, she didn't show it, although she did set to work opening the wine. Seifer winked at Quistis across the table, then went back to skimming the menu. The 'soon-to-be-married' trick had worked a few times before, but was generally only put into action when one of them was being harassed by an undesirable personage with reasonably low brain power.
"Quistis Trepe?"
Quistis looked up from her book into the sky blue eyes of a handsome man with short black hair and wearing the Trabian uniform. He was looking down at her with a drink in each hand and a hopeful look in his eyes. It was time to stop trying to read in public places, she picked up far too many Trepies this way and frankly, the Balamb branch alone was enough to pale her complexion.
"Do you mind if I sit?" He asked, looking around at the other armchairs that surrounded her, before lifting one of the drinks and saying with a smile, "I bought you a drink."
"I'm afraid I had a drink earlier." Quistis said, which wasn't exactly a lie, but it had been an orange juice and the thing the man had in his hand looked like a 'sex on the beach' – suggestive to the point of disgusting – and it wasn't her favourite. Not really taking the hint, the man sat down opposite her and put the two drinks on the table, his eyes never leaving her chest. He opened his mouth and was about to say something when a hand landed on her shoulder and a warm shadow leant over her, a 'grasshopper' – her favourite cocktail by far – landing on the table.
"Sorry I'm late darling," Seifer said, bending to place a kiss on her cheek, "Traffic was terrible and it's raining like hell out there."
As if on cue a droplet of water slid from his hair onto her neck and she shivered, "I can imagine." Quistis said, closing her book and turning to give him her full attention, completely ignoring the man across from her who now wore an expression similar to that of a squashed frog. "I've been waiting for you for hours."
Seifer grinned at her, then turned to the other man with a look of surprise, even though there was no realistic way he could have missed him, sitting where he was. "Oh sorry, I didn't realise you knew each other." He stuck out his hand and the other man shook it hesitantly. "You'll have to invite him to the wedding, Quisty."
Resisting the urge to pick him up on the nick-name, Quistis laughed and said, "My mother rang this afternoon, she wanted to hear all about your proposal."
Nodding and grinning at her like a Cheshire cat, Seifer asked, "Did you tell her you were pregnant as well?"
The man left fairly quickly after that, to the sounds of Quistis and Seifer's laughter as they sat in relative comfort, drinking grasshoppers and – in Seifer's case – sex on the beach.
"I'll have the Steak, blue rare with the sautéed potatoes and vegetables," Seifer said, folding his menu as Kellen scribbled down his order, "And Quistis?"
"Duck á la Bartolomeo Scappi?"
Their orders taken, Kellen rushed off to the kitchens and the table was left in relative peace.
"You really don't like her, do you?" Seifer teased, leaning his arms on the table and sipping at his wine. Across the table, Quistis shook her head, picking up her glass and swilling the liquid inside.
"She's ruining the mood with her own silly infatuations."
"Silly?"
"She doesn't even know you, Seifer."
"Maybe you should tell her that then?"
"Like I said – ruining the mood."
He chuckled and slipped a hand into his pocket, setting his wine down. "Then here," he said, producing the box he had been fiddling with before and sliding it along the table towards her. "Let me lighten it."
She blinked at the box in puzzlement. It was wrapped in plain scarlet paper and was around A5 sized. Casting Seifer a frown, she picked up the box and slid her finger under the tape, pulling the paper off to reveal a box like the ones in her room. Frown deepening, she opened this too. And gasped.
"What're you doing?" Seifer asked, watching from the door as Quistis struggled against the window, one hand on the handle and the other pushing against the wall beside it.
"I'm trying to shut the window," She snapped, "What does it look like I'm doing."
"Face-fucking the wall?"
She turned to give him a dirty look, but just then a gust of wind blew into the window and slammed it shut. Quistis yelped as her wrist was jerked sideways by the force and when she drew her arm back, a load of beads fell to the floor, tinkling like raindrops.
"Oh no..." She murmured, crouching down and trying to gather them all back up again, as Seifer just stood back and laughed.
"My bracelet..." Quistis said, picking it delicately from the box and holding it up, inspecting it.
"I had it fixed," Seifer filled her in, his wine glass back in his hand and the ghost of a smile on his lips. "You were devastated when it broke. I thought you would be happy to have it back."
"Oh I am." She said quietly. She had been upset when her necklace broke, that much was certainly true, but it was only something she'd bought herself at an antique store after her graduation. The old pearls were dulled and one of the sapphires was cracked, but it still held symbolism for her and she liked it. The fact it broke bothered her at the beginning, but eventually she pushed the thought aside and got on with things. It was only a few weeks ago, but she was grateful it was back now; she missed its weight.
"I also got you this," Seifer said, sliding over yet another box with a slight blush colouring his cheeks. Or was that just the lighting? "The jeweller said he'd had it for a long time but it really needed a counterpart."
Fastening the bracelet round her wrist, Quistis reached for the other box. Opening it revealed a necklace, much the same as her bracelet, only the pearls were smaller and a sapphire sat one every 7 pearls, instead of every 4.
"B-but why?" She asked, genuinely confused as Seifer got up from his seat and came round her side of the table, taking the necklace from the box and unclipping it. He gently moved her hair out of the way and drew the beads around her neck.
"Happy Birthday Q."
Her heart skipped a beat. Her birthday. With all her work and trying to convince herself that Garden's coffee was not a living being in itself, she'd completely forgotten the date. Maybe Seifer was right... Maybe she was a workaholic.
Seifer sat down again just as their food was brought out to them by the simpering Kellen. This time however, she received no attention from Seifer, who was busily gauging Quistis' reaction to his gifts. She touched the necklace lightly, rolling a bead between her fingers as she tried to think up a suitable way to express her gratitude. Finding none, she turned to her food, which was steaming and emitting wonderful aromas. Seifer frowned at her lack of a reaction, but didn't bring it up in favour of investigating his own meal. The food was rich, there was no doubt about that, and in the first few mouthfuls, Quistis had already decided she would have preferred it to be softer, but it was delicious none the less and all too quickly it was gone.
She was just dabbing at the corners of her mouth when she noticed Seifer chuckling at something. Quickly checking she hadn't slopped anything hideous down her front, Quistis nudged his leg under the table, perhaps – judging by his expression and the wobble of his chair as he jumped – a little further up his leg than she'd originally intended. "What's so funny?"
Wiping the shocked look from his face, he nodded his head in the direction of a couple flouncing around on the dance-floor. They were rather thin, tall and looked like an estranged version of Selphie and Squall. The girl was dressed in a ridiculously thin and 'wafty' blue number and was flinging herself shamelessly around the floor. The man was quite clearly undernourished and had a distinctly foppish air about him. Despite her own better judgement, Quistis found herself laughing at the spectacle, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep the volume down.
"Whaddaya say we show them how it's done?" Seifer asked, halting her laughter in a second. For all her grace and poise, Quistis Trepe did not enjoy dancing. She regarded it as a generally dangerous sport, indulged in by those who enjoyed breaking their ankles and having their toes crushed on a regular basis.
"I would rather not." She shook her head, reaching for her wine. But before she got there, Seifer had taken hold of her outstretched fingers and pulled her from her chair. They were already on the dance floor before her brain engaged and she began to struggle.
"Oh come on, Trepe," Seifer protested, watching her vain attempts to pry his fingers from hers. "I'm not that terrible a dancer."
"No but I am." She whined, pushing futilely at his hand, to no avail as he drew her in closer, trapping her in his arm and giving her an experimental twist.
"Bullshit," He frowned as she struggled to keep her feet, "You're Quistis Trepe, SeeD prodigy and all round whizz-kid. Moving your feet to some music should be simples."
"Well it's not." She huffed, planting herself firmly in one place and attempting to fold her arms – a little difficult since he was still holding one of her hands.
"You're not even going to try?" He coaxed, swaying them as he wiggled his eyebrows – such an odd move as to be uncharacteristic, but then so typically Seifer. "Come on, it'll be fun. Promise."
She raised her eyebrows in a 'now convince me' way, but relaxed anyway reasoning that even if she managed to fall over and break her neck, she had to die some day and if she did die, she wouldn't know and therefore couldn't complain.
Struggling to keep the smile from breaking out, Seifer readjusted their hands and started off with a waltz, moving fluidly around the floor, making sure Quistis was held up and not allowed to fall to the ground – something his lady appeared very grateful for.
They stepped gracefully across the floor, the occasional twist and spin adding to the look, but in general, Seifer kept them on the straight and narrow. At least until the band began playing something else. Unfortunately for Quistis it turned out to be a salsa. She immediately tried to steer Seifer back towards their seats, but he was having none of that and spun her, laughing at her squeak of fright.
"Stop worrying Trepe," He said when he pulled her back in, dipping her slightly before stepping back a few paces, dragging her with him, "Loosen up and have some fun. Dance."
"I love the dress."
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over the low front. Even if he liked it, she certainly didn't, perhaps even for that exact reason. It was too long and too tight and had too much of a sheen on it. Not to mention the halter-neck that covered bugger-all and the backless feature that gained her many a new Trepie. The fact that Seifer 'loved' it was doing little for her opinion on the garment.
"Why don't you wear clothes like this more often? You can be sure I would have paid more attention in class."
Oh great. Well that was some clear incentive now, wasn't it? If she had wanted him to pay attention in class she could have simply poked him in the eye every time he looked out the window. But that was assuming he had ever looked out the window. Which was rare as most days his gaze was fixed either on her chest or her bum.
"Dressing up has never been my forte, Almasy." She replied coolly. This was not entirely untrue, but would have been better classed as a gross understatement. Quistis never dressed up. Testimony to this fact was the small detail of everything she was wearing tonight – baring her underwear and bracelet – belonging to someone else. Her wardrobe was embarrassingly lacking in variety and as such she was very under catered for in the event of a celebration such as the one she now found herself attending.
"Well you look very nice." He said, his hand on her waist swaying her slightly, just enough to make her wonder if he was even aware he was doing it at all, but enough to make her blush and them look like a couple. She was just about to excuse herself and beat a hasty retreat to a more secluded corner of the ballroom – where she would hopefully be left to sigh and 'look pretty' in peace – when Seifer murmured in her ear, his breath moving a carefully arranged ringlet, "Dance."
Despite her protests, he had dragged her onto the dance floor and proceeded to spin and dip her and follow the general dancing trend until she had tripped on her own skirt and sent them both crashing earthwards. She had scrambled off him, apologising profusely and red as tomato, while he had simply lain on the floor and laughed until he resembled a similar fruit.
"Seifer, I really don't think-"
"You know how to Samba don't you?"
"Yes but-"
"Then Samba with me."
"Seifer-"
"Dance with me."
She paused. He tightened his grip. She sighed. He shot her the puppy-dog-eyes. She rolled her eyes and he smirked. The rest was history.
"This has got to be your most ridiculous idea yet." She backed away from him, folding her arms and wrinkling her nose at the box he had in his hands.
"Geez, Trepe!" He exclaimed, resisting the urge to laugh at her distain for his tastes, "It's just a pizza!"
"It's a greasy bit of dough, burnt to a crisp and served in a cardboard box." She corrected, her nose already stuck in the air, "I'm not eating it."
"Why'd 'ya have to be so picky?" He asked, advancing with the pizza box in hand. "Anyone would think caviar is too trashy for your tastes!"
"I asked you for lunch," Quistis berated him, backing way again until her back was pressed against the wall and she had nowhere left to go. "Not caviar and certainly not trailer park chow!"
"Come on, Trepe." He coaxed, brandishing a slice, now barely a meter and a half way and grinning like Christmas had come early. "It's not going to kill you."
"It might." She hissed. Do you know, it was funny. Sometimes she reminded him of a swan, so tall and so regal, gliding through life with a majesty that belied all belief. And at other times she looked so much like a little frightened kitten, all claws, teeth and hissing that he wasn't really sure which one was real. Or which one he liked better. On this occasion, the hissing spitting cat he was faced with was providing excellent entertainment and for that he supposed she was alright.
"Just one little bite..." He whispered, pushing the tip of the slice between her lips and watching as her expression turned from scornful to determined. Almost quicker than he could blink she had opened wide and taken such a bite out of the thing, Seifer found himself snatching his hand back reflexively for fear she might have bitten it off.
He was given no time to celebrate his victory however as the next second saw the remainder of the slice squashed against the tilt of his jaw and Quistis stalking away across the classroom towards the door. Peeling the pizza from his face, he contemplated dropping it or putting it in her desk-drawer, before he finally decided he was going to simply throw it at her.
It hit her square in the back of the head, tomato, mushrooms and cheese sticking in her hair and changing her expression from 'pissed off' to 'what the hell just happened?'. Needless to say Seifer was absolutely wetting himself at the back of the room and therefore didn't mind when the rest of the pizza ending up smeared on his face/chest/arms or anywhere else she could reasonably rub it without gaining questionable glances from the blond man she was currently covering in grease and dough. Besides, he wasn't the one who had to walk through the entire garden to get to the shower with a pizza shaped splat on the back of his head. And it wasn't like he had any reputation to uphold either.
"I will never dance with you again!" Quistis scowled as they stepped outside. It had begun to snow and if the air had been cold before they started dinner, some two hours later it was absolutely freezing. "I should never have agreed to this."
"Oh it wasn't too bad." Seifer chuckled, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to Quistis. In truth, she had done very-well with the Samba, she was even managing to look halfway seductive – tottering about as she was and nearly crushing his fingers for the entire 'dance' – until she slipped and they both crashed to the floor amid rounds of applaud. She'd been the same colour as the wine when he'd helped her to her feet and had remained the same shade of deepest red while he paid and they left. She was blushing so hard he could have sworn the first few snowflakes melted before they even reached her burning cheeks. "I enjoyed it."
One of the few things Seifer found he really liked about himself was his honesty, and in all honesty, he had enjoyed being able to bend her to his will, coax her into dancing with him and holding some sort of civil conversation for most of the evening. Admittedly he had rather more enjoyed the feel of her body swaying with his than he had her actual dancing skills, but when he told her he enjoyed it he hadn't specified which part, so he didn't feel it counted as lying.
Quistis frowned and popped open her clutch bag, digging around for her phone but coming up with nothing but fresh mints and a spare hairclip.
"I forgot my phone..." She mumbled, glancing up at Seifer sheepishly.
He raised an eyebrow, a smirk working its way onto his lips as he teased, "In too much of a rush to see me?" She merely narrowed her eyes at him and made to walk off down the street. Shaking his head in good humour he said, "I'll take you home, don't worry."
She stopped walking and nodded, waiting for him to pull his phone from his jacket pocket before slipping her arms through the thing and pulling it tighter round herself. It was colder tonight than it had been in a long time and a glance at Seifer's shirt becoming rapidly see-through, saw her feeling a little guilty for having 'borrowed' his jacket.
It was little over 10 minutes later that the taxi arrived and they both clambered into the backseat, soaking wet and shivering. Seifer in particular was shaking like a leaf in a high gale. Shuffling closer across the seats, she leant her weight against him, the fingers of her left hand ghosting over the back of his right. His jade green eyes scanned her face, questioning in them but no rejection. She pressed her advantage, swivelling round to wrap her arms round him an awkward hug, leaving no room for complaint or redirection.
"Thank you for my birthday." She whispered in his ear and felt as his arms wrapped round her, returning the embrace.
"Anytime." He whispered back.
It was a 30 minute drive to Garden's docking station and the majority of the ride was spent in silence and stillness. Seifer had stopped shivering as they'd driven past the beach and Quistis was sure the return of his jacket would help his case further.
30 minutes later and Seifer and Quistis were running through the gates of Balamb Garden, snow catching in their hair and on their skin. For her part, Quistis was mostly dry under the jacket, only her legs were freezing and her hair was a wonderfully arranged, sodden mess. Seifer looked like he was about to die of pneumonia at any second. The quicker they got to their dorms the better.
True to his word, Seifer returned her home, right to her front door and they stood there quietly for a moment before Quistis said softly, "Thank you, Seifer. This has been..." She paused, thinking hard whether she was really being truthful or not before she added, "The best birthday I can remember."
He looked a little taken aback, as though he either really didn't believe her or her really didn't expect that sort of a thank you.
"I know I didn't say it at the time," She continued, "But I really do appreciate you fixing my bracelet, and this necklace too." She touched the item delicately, staring at the floor – it was as good a thing to look at as any. "I realise this must have cost you a fortune and I really enjoyed tonight and-"
He cut her off, two fingers under her chin lifting her face to look at him, the index finger of his other hand covering her lips. "You don't have to thank me. You just have to enjoy yourself."
"But you were the only one in the world who remembered my Birthday..." She whispered, an errant tear running down one cheek. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did. The fact that no one cared enough to remember her special day – she had even forgotten herself. It seemed almost ironic that the person most shunned and hated by society as a whole, would be the only one to remember something so trivial as her birthday and do something nice for her to commemorate it. It made her feel... Lonely.
"Then you will have to remind them all tomorrow." He whispered, wiping her tear away with his thumb. "Or at least before I get to them because there will be hell to pay if I do. Promise."
He sealed it with a kiss. And not just your regular, run of the mill, 'peck on the lips then duck for cover' kiss either. It was a full on, lip bruising, teeth clashing, star inducing kiss. The kind that makes your legs go weak and butterflies spawn in your stomach. Wait, butterflies? Quistis jerked back, her lungs burning and her brain screaming for air. For his part, Seifer seemed quite out of breath himself, and had even taken to leaning against her dormitory door for support.
"Sorry," he muttered, eyes shut and an expression of pain on his face. "I, err..."
He didn't get much further, his next words being cut off by Quistis' lips on his, softer this time but no less demanding, and coupled with her fingers twisted in the soaking material of his lapels pulling him as close to herself as she could get, there wasn't really all that much which could be said to have crossed his mind.
He would think later, to himself in the morning that he should have stayed with her last night and relieved the pain in his trousers in a way he would make sure would satisfy them both. But in hindsight it was better this way. If he had stayed with her, there was no way he would be giving her back in the morning anyway. At least this way she could uphold her reputation. Minus the pizza.
A/N: I really apologise for the poor quality of the writing here, I realise it's not all that great and I must admitt I have very little excuses for it, other than I have not been visited by a plot bunny in a long time... *sniff sniff*...
-Okami