By NightsDawne
Chapter 5: Make Love, Not War
Irvine strolled across the room, navigating by the narrow field of the camcorder's viewfinder. He didn't take a straight path, though, as his lens swerved every time another female in a short cadet skirt came into his vision, leading him away from his goal of filming Squall and Rinoa for Selphie's commemorative SeeD website. A particularly tempting set of legs just past the bandstand distracted him enough to drive all thoughts of websites or his friends from his mind, pulling him toward the owner as if by magnetic force.
"Whoo-hee! Dayum, that's a set of gams!" The girl looked up a bit startled at the proclamation, smiling as Irvine lifted the camera to her face. "Trust me, I'm a veritable expert at legs, miss, and yours, I must say, are about the best pair of stalks I ever laid eyes on. They any good for dancing?"
Suddenly a new face broke into the small black-and-white frame. Spiky blond hair, scowling blue eyes, and a prominent stylized tattoo. "I was talking to her first, Irvine, so get your oversexed butt out of here."
Irvine lowered the camera. "You wouldn't get anywhere anyway, Zell. I hate ta be the only one like ta be honest with ya, but you just ain't got what it takes."
"Oh yeah? OH YEAH?" Zell clenched his fists at his sides.
"Mmmhmm. How do I put this delicate and yet in little bitty words that's in your vocabulary? You come up a little short." Irvine held his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart for demonstration. The girl giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Yeah, it was having the desired effect. Zell was turning crimson and the girl would soon lose all interest, leaving her free to be swept to the dancefloor unimpeded.
"Irvine Kinneas, you're such a bastard!"
Irvine looked to the girl, his true audience. "That's why he's got that hot dog obsession an' all. See, he ain't never been able ta get enough weenie."
"Oh my god!" The girl was in stitches.
Zell scowled, trying to come up with a way to put Irvine down that would stick. The cowboy had a way of just shining off everything he said that infuriated him.
Irvine draped an arm around the girl's shoulders. He was on a roll. "You'd much rather be with a real man, darlin'. Someone who isn't a chickenwuss."
"That's IT!" Zell seemed to explode. He'd put up with Irvine's wisecracks for the sake of the team, but the reminder of his hated nickname coming from the lips of the creep who'd waltzed in and taken over as Squall's best friend and the romantic ideal of Balamb Garden was too much for him to take.
Irvine looked at Zell, a bit startled. Maybe he'd gone a bit too far. He threw up a hand to protect himself, but it did little to stop the punch, which caught him square on the chin. The room tipped and dimmed and something slammed hard into the back of his head. He saw the worried face of the girl over his, calling his name, then everything went black.
Irvine spun around in General Caraway's leather upholstered chair, staring at the framed picture in his hands. She was lovely, dark hair and eyes, peaches and cream expression. "I gotta meet her."
Caraway paused in his explanation of the sniper mission and glared at the gunslinger making himself at home behind his private desk. "Are you listening to me, Kinneas?"
Irvine waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. Somethin' about a road and a car. Martine'll brief me on it again anyway. Tell me about this sweet honeypot in the photo. Ain't she kinda young for ya?"
Caraway leaned over the desk and snatched the frame from Irvine's hands. "That, you cretin, is my daughter!"
Irvine smirked. "That mean she's single?"
Caraway replaced the frame in its position. "I don't see why Martine even bothers with sending you if you can't focus on a job."
"Because I never miss, General. Not with the ladies, not with a rifle." He sat forward, propping his chin on his hands. "What's her name?"
"Rinoa. And if I ever hear of you even laying a hand on her I'll kill you myself."
Irvine sighed dreamily. "Rinoa. I like it."
"Get out. You've got your instructions. And if you fail, I needn't remind you that I'll see you're arrested and sent to Galbadia Prison for the rest of your natural life. Where you won't see any ladies, Mr. Kinneas."
Irvine stole a last glance at the photo as he stood and headed for the door. She was a dream. Rinoa. He'd succeed at the mission, of course. He always did. And afterwards, maybe he'd get to meet the general's pretty daughter.
Rinoa occupied his thoughts for the entire train ride home again. He could easily imagine the give of that soft, perfect skin under his fingers, those beautiful dark eyes gazing up into his in complete surrender. By the time he walked in the door of the Garden he was in a state of immediate need. If he couldn't have Rinoa, he had to have someone. His eyes roved the students in the halls as he headed for his room. He stopped short as his gaze fell upon a long-legged brunnette with skin nearly as fair and smooth as that in his fantasies at the moment. Calista was her name. She was on the track team, a head cheerleader, and top bet to be prom queen that year. She'd definately fill the bill.
Irvine slid up next to her and flashed his smile. "Heya Calista. How's track goin?"
Calista started a bit and looked at him. "Oh, it's you, Irvine. It's going alright, I guess. Pulled a muscle last week, so I'm not running this Friday."
Irvine put his arm around her, his eyes holding genuine concern and sympathy. "Oh, darlin', that's awful. You know, what you need is a little bedrest, a little pamperin'." He winked, his slow grin making it obvious what he was suggesting.
Calista reached up to push his hand away. "Irvine, I've got a boyfriend."
"Jake? Calista, you know he ain't good enough for ya. Besides, it ain't like he'll know." He nuzzled her ear, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. Female hair always drove him crazy, smelling of strawberries and sunshine. He dropped his voice to a lucious whisper. "Don't ya wanna know why the girls who come outa my room always got a smile on their face?"
"Irvine, stop." Calista wavered, the touch of Irvine's hand as he slid it along her back weakening her resolve. A small smile twisted her lips. "Jake would kill you."
Irvine seized his opportunity, turning to catch Calista between himself and the row of lockers, leaning forward to put his hands on the metal on either side of her. He fixed his longing gaze on her, holding her eyes fastened on his. "I need ya, Calista. I'm goin' out on a dangerous mission. I might not come back. And the only woman fillin' my thoughts is Calista Gerard. You want me killed because I can't think about my job, dreamin' about holdin' you in my arms? I promise, you can have Jake for the rest of your life, but you can pretend ya care about me for an hour, can't ya? Just one hour?"
Calista stared at him, her lips parted. She was almost his. That was when he felt the hand on his shoulder. Jake whipped Irvine around, slamming him back against the lockers. "You got a death wish or something, Kinneas?"
Irvine smiled genially to the captain of the hockey team, the Slaps. "Heya Jake. Calista and me, we were just talkin' about my next mission."
Jake smirked. "I'll bet. You know, I've just been waiting for you to pull your little pick-up move on my girl. Bad mistake, Kinneas. Bad mistake."
Calista put her hand on Jake's arm. "Nothing happened, Jake. Just let it go, okay?"
Jake shook her off, fixing his powerful grip around Irvine's upper arm. "This piece of shit's gonna learn a lesson, Calista. Come on, Kinneas."
Irvine staggered a bit as he was dragged towards the ice rink. "Hey, Jake, it's like she said, nothin' happened. Jake, leggo, we can work this out peaceably. I admit, it was a mistake! I was an idiot. She loves ya, Jake, she was givin' me the brush off." His protests fell on deaf ears. He was going to die. "You want me ta beg, Jake? I'll beg. Please don't kill me! Or at least let me get my rifle and make it a fair fight!"
Jake only smirked as he dragged Irvine through the rink to the locker room. "This isn't a fight, asshole. This is you getting what's been coming to you for a long, long time."
Irvine swallowed hard as he was pushed through the door. Five other members of the Slaps, any one of them twice Irvine's size, stood, looking at Irvine, then at Jake.
"Hey, fellas." Irvine waved. "Ya know, I won sixty gil on last Sunday's game. You guys were great."
"Shut up." Jake gave Irvine another push. "Guys, I just caught this oversexed bastard hitting on Calista."
"Jake, ya know, six on one. Ain't this goin' a little overboard?"
"I told you to shut up." Jake took off his letterman's jacket, the other five gathering around Irvine in a circle, rubbing fists into palms in anticipation. Irvine turned around, not sure where the first hit would come from. He was definately going to die. One of the players smirked, pulling back his arm, only to have it blocked by Jake. "Calista's my girl. Me first." He shot his elbow back, catching Irvine in the ribs. Irvine bowed, grabbing his side as the wind was knocked out of him. The next blow came from the side, sending him reeling to the floor, and all six jumped him, kicking and punching. Irvine curled into a ball, each hit driving a grunt from him with the force. It lasted only a couple of minutes, but when they stepped back, the only thing telling him he was alive was the pain he was in.
Irvine struggled to crawl away, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He could barely get a breath, each inhalation bringing a fresh reminder of his cracked ribs. He heard the laughter of the players as if it came from a great distance away, muffled behind the ringing in his ears. He collapsed, hoping that unconsciousness would come and spare him more agony. A foot caught him in the side and flipped him over onto his back, making him squint against the harsh flourescent of the overhead lights.
"You know what? I don't think you've learned your lesson yet, Kinneas." Jake smirked down at his victim. Irvine nodded painfully, unable to speak. "Hold him down guys." Irvine coughed against the blood running into the back of his throat, confused for a moment by the hands grabbing him, someone yanking at his pants. The realization hit him like a freezing wave as he saw Jake undo his belt. He prayed he would pass out.
Irvine opened his eyes with a groan. The tiled cieling above didn't look like that of the banquet hall. A single flourescent strip illuminated the small room, white walls, white cabinets of utilitarian design. He turned his head to get a better understanding of his surroundings and saw Cid's worried face to his left. "Where am I?"
Cid smiled slightly. "The infirmary. Take it easy, you have a concussion."
Irvine put his hand up to block the light. "What happened? I was at the party."
"And you got decked by Zell. He didn't hold back, either. You're lucky to have your teeth still." Cid gently pushed Irvine down as he tried to sit up. "Just rest, alright? Zell is in the disciplanary room. He's not a threat right now, and he's been given a strict warning against getting physical with Garden guests."
Irvine rubbed his chin. "Wish I could remember what I said. Musta been good."
Cid sighed. "Irvine, you're incorrigable."
Irvine cracked half a painful grin. "I've heard that before, Headmaster."
Cid looked down, interlacing his fingers on his lap. "Irvine, I'd like for you to consider staying at Balamb Garden. You're seventeen, you could be a student. I'm sure you could pass your exams and be a SeeD within six months."
Irvine turned his head to look at the opposite wall. "Thanks, Headmaster, but I didn't even cut it at Galbadia Garden. Besides, you don't want me around."
"That's not true, Irvine. I want you here. Please, you belong here."
Irvine looked back to Cid, long-buried feelings of resentment bubbling up, hardening his eyes. "I didn't belong here eleven years ago and I don't belong here, now."
Cid lifted his eyes, a tear trickling down his cheek. "Yes, you do, Irvine. You belong here with your father. It's long overdue."
