Ok, so I know I wrote this ages and ages ago... I just haven't had time to put it up! Honest.

Don't hurt me .

Anyways, /paperback-trash is now password protected, but I bet you'll be able to guess what it is ;). Oh and Dad, if your reading this THEN YOU SHOULDN'T BE. GO AWAY!!! *ahem* Blimy, I'm the one who gets the parents who laugh at my fic's....

Luv Kafers

Ragnarok

By Kafers

Muspell: the first world to exist. - Snorri Sturluson's Edda

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Seifer was late home from the office again. Though, 'office' was rather a loose term for the little yellow and black striped tent, equipped with mini heater, rocky wooden table and beer cooler – because the porto fridge had exploded. Seifer ground his teeth as he gunned the engine of his jeep. He was in a fouler mood than usual, which is saying quite a lot for his moods in general, and he had a very clear idea of whose fault that was. That stupid, spoiled, idiot punk kid Dintch had nearly cost them a whole weeks worth of careful excavating, just by trapsing over a very important section of the site - one that Seifer had been over-seeing personally because of the delicate nature of the project – so he could talk to his mate about going down the pub for lunch! Seifer could feel the blood rush to his face at just the thought of what had happened, making his hands clench the steering wheel rather too forcibly. He really needed to start seeing a doctor about stress levels – he was sure it was not normal to experiencing this kind of blinding anger in his line of work.

And Quistis, ah the lovely Quistis. Seifer knew exactly what she'd have to say about all this - she'd say "Why Seifer, it's because you need to have sex, obviously."

Well, it was true Seifer hadn't go laid in… a few years. A few years! God almighty, he was pathetic. Throwing himself into his work like it was some kind of substitute for other things, having fantasy's about gorgeous young men who were probably married with five kids, he seriously felt like he'd hit rock bottom.

The only good side to his life was when someone found something new and exciting for him to investigate. That was when his work really mattered above everything else. It was usually something small, as is the way with archaeology, but that didn't really matter – a piece of fossil that could hold the key to a whole villages staple diet, a lump of metal that turns out to be Viking jewellery, a tattered slip of fabric covered in the most beautiful and fascinating designs, the excitement of sifting through rock in the lab and finding one of these things is what made Seifers life worth living. Although they didn't find anything every working day, when they did it was usually always worth it. They'd be polishing, carbon dating, theorizing and labelling for months afterwards, creating a story of lives and deaths long before they walked the earth, reconstructing a whole time period inside their little white labs. It was exhilarating stuff, and Seifer felt the anger in him drain away as he though about all the things happening on the site at them moment.

Strangely enough, the purpose of the dig had been kept pretty quiet amongst the work force and the papers, but everyone had their own theories. It had actually been a long acclaimed site years before Seifer's group had got there – people finding all kinds of things whilst doing plumbing work and the like – and Seifer's boss had seemed to have taken a particular interest in it of late. They were working on a new project at the moment, trying to find some kind of Viking place of worship, if one did indeed still exist in, or in fact under, the city of York. This site seemed the most likely place, if not the most available place to dig, since the shops that had once been atop it had all shut-down simultaneously. This was a rather unusual occurrence, but people didn't seem to mind them being torn down, since it was only a Marks & Spencers and a bridle shop, both newish buildings, so they had nothing to do with any of the old heritage buildings of York anyway. The funny thing was, a lot of people actually seemed glad that the buildings we're being taken down, since there was quite a lot of paranormal activity reported in the area. Apparently there had been complaints to shop owners for, well, time out of memory about some of the things that went on, a lot of them made by plumbers. One of the favourite stories was of a ghostly black fire that appeared whenever anyone was working in the basement of the bridle shop, a fire that was hot but never burnt anything, followed by the customary rattling of pipe's and handing in of resignation letters. Another story that was really popular at the moment was 'The Dying Soldiers'.

It went that one evening a middle aged woman, working on the night shift, had heard a peculiar noise between the frozen foods and yoghurt section of Marks & Spencers, and had gone to investigate. She had been shock to discover what was described as the most beautiful young man she had ever seen, wrapped in a fur lined coat with a sword around his waist, laying on the floor bleeding to death. Another man, his bowed head obscured, had been clutching his fallen comrades hands, chocking out heart-wrenching sobs, blood weeping steadily from a wound in his side. The woman didn't know much about doctoring, but it didn't take a genius to realize these men where dying. Only half thinking about what she was doing, the woman rushed off to call an ambulance. However, when the paramedic's arrived, both men had completely vanished, taking all traces that they had ever existed with them.

Seifer didn't believe in these kinds of stories himself, and had felt that the person who had told it to him had added far to many grisly details for his liking. Though, he did find it rather fascinating, since it was above the very place that he had been digging today. But being superstitious about digging things up didn't pay the bills. Or, at least, that's how Seifer saw it.

Sighing, Seifer lent back in his chair, guiding the wheel with only one hand (power steering was a wondrous thing). These things seemed to have been mulling around in his head of late, and he wasn't very happy with it, since he hated to chew and worry about things for long periods of time. But there was something – not anything that he could really relate to anyone else – a certain feeling, not unlike an existed flutter in his gut, but also not quite the same, that he got every time he went to the site. It was like he was on the edge of something big, like when he got a pay bonus that he'd been waiting for, but he didn't know what he was waiting for this time. It was unnerving and very unsettling for Seifer, because he had never had such feelings in his entire life, and had always taken for granted that he wasn't very sensitive to certain things. It made him do strange things – like want to stay as long as possible at the site every day, just in case something happened, but then not want to get up and go to work in the morning, just in case something really did happen. He also found himself thinking more and more of a certain mysterious young man, and the more he thought about him, the more he seemed to convince himself that their was something, not special exactly, more like significant about him. Of only he could put his finger on it…

Just as Seifer's mind began to touch on thoughts of the serious young man, someone step out into the road in front of him.

Seifer's heart sped up so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest. Time around him seemed to slow almost to a crawl. Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, so slowly he could have been moving through liquid, Seifer turned it sharply to the left. His jaw clenched tightly as the jeep squealed to a halt.

Dark spots had appeared in front of Seifers eyes, and for a moment he could neither see nor breathe. He sat, gasping like a fish, knuckles white where he clutched the wheel.

The sound of Seifers sharp panting was the only noise that filled the night.

Seconds, minutes, hours could have past, and Seifer sat motionless, a dreadful feeling seeping into him like a disease.

As if in a dream, Seifer fumbled with his seatbelt, then the door handle, almost falling out of the jeep like a useless doll. His legs seemed to have lost their ability to move. Swallowing, taking a deep breath, Seifer's body seemed to take on a life all its own, stepping forward. Then suddenly he was jogging towards a crumpled form on the road.

It was the body of a young man, dressed all in black, face down and curled into a mock foetal position, arms locked around his head for protection. Seifer knelt down next to him, trying to think of something, anything he could do. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt like it was full of honey. When he opened his mouth all that came out was a dry chocking sound.

The body stirred.

And words fell from Seifers mouth.

"Oh my God… are you alright? Did I, oh God, did I hit you? I'm so s-sorry, oh my God. Please, please, please, be alright, please don't be hurt, oh God! Oh God, what have I done?" Seifer was panicked, and he reached out to touch the boy's shoulder, something he normally knew you shouldn't do if you think the person is badly injured, but he couldn't think, could barley breathe.

The boy flinched away from his touch.

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Squall was in shock.

When he'd seen the headlights headed straight for him, his normally calm, level-headed nature had deserted him. His thoughts were totally blank. At that moment, some integral instinct in him seemed to take over.

Quite simply, he ducked.

Squall had never hit the floor so fast in his entire life. The sound of his naked arms hitting the ground replayed over and over in his head. His whole left side had gone numb were he'd landed, and had now started to throb rather painfully as bits of gravel dug into his flesh.

Squall never heard the sound of the tires squealing; neither did he feel the slight wind the Land Rover caused as it missed his limp body by centimetres – his brain seemed to have decided that it had had enough. For a few moments, everything in Squalls world went totally black.

When he came too, there was a man's voice talking gibberish in his ear. Something touched his shoulder, brining his mind solidly down to earth, moving him. He felt sluggish and weak, like a kitten, blinking his eyes rapidly, his long black eyelashes brushing the ground.

The noise of blood rushing in his ears seemed to drown out the man's voice, who was still talking, his words meaningless.

To Squall's addled brain the voice could have been anything. The panicked drone of the voice seemed to change, and for some odd reason, Squall thought it was an angel. The voice was a lot calmer, smoother, washing over Squall like a weird kind of music, creating abstract images of red crosses in his head.

For a moment Squall was confused as to why he wasn't travelling down a tunnel of light.

The cold hand of panic gripped his chest – he couldn't be dead, he didn't want to be dead. He was too young, he hadn't done any of the things he's planned yet. His head filled with memories: Irvine laughing at him as he held his diary for ransom – Selphie's wide, energetic smile – His father's eyes crinkling at the corners whenever Squall showed him something – the smell of his jumper as he slipped it on – the handsome face of a smirking, blond, archaeologist…

No, no no no, he thought, I can't be dead, I will not be dead!

The voice of a stranger pushed gently at his minds protests, and in the end, that's what made Squall want to get up off the floor again.

Slowly at first, as the rushing in his ears receded, and the pounding pain in his side become more pronounced, Squall tried to ease himself slowly onto his knees. A pair of strong, soft hands solidified around his waist and shoulders, giving him the support he needed to get himself upright. He felt very tired for some reason, leaning against something hard and warm for support, his head spinning as he attempted to put both feet solidly on the ground again.

Squall's brain seemed to click back into place again, and suddenly everything made sense again. Sort of.

Club. Road. Car. Pain. Voice. Hands. Body. Man.

Squall had though for a moment that the voice talking to him was some kind of deity inviting him into the afterlife. Now he realized that, in fact, he was still alive, and now in the arms of a total stranger. Feeling the closeness of the other man for the first time, Squall's face flushed.

"Are… are you ok?"

Squall's head snapped around, meeting Seifer square in the face.

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Seifer was drowning – drowning in eyes swirling with beautiful grey storm clouds.

Seifer was trapped – trapped by a face that lighted his very waking hour, and every dream.

His mouth was so dry he couldn't swallow, couldn't speak. The intensity of their gazes as they met sent Seifer spinning - spinning out of control as heat, nausea, anxiety, excitement, lust and the burning closeness of the other man filled him to the very brim.

In his arms. The object of his desire was in his arms. He couldn't quite believe it was real.

If he blinked, the face before him might disappear and become someone else, some stranger that Seifer didn't care for - he couldn't bear that thought. Eyes itching horribly as he tried really hard not to shut them, even for a millisecond, there gazes stayed locked.

"Its you…" Seifer seemed to have finally found his voice. And he had not meant to say that! Oh buggery, he thought, say something else and cover yourself!

"err, I mean, are you hurt? Do you need to go to hospital?" of course, how stupid of Seifer. If he really had been hit, this young man was going to need medical attention!

For the very first time, Seifer heard Squall speak.

"I'm…" he faltered for a moment, his soft low voice sending shocks down Seifer spine. "I'm alright, you-you didn't hit me."

Seifer nearly fell over he was so relieved. This would have been a pretty stupid thing to do, since he was using most of his weight to keep Squall standing.

"I-my side hurts a bit…" For some reason after he spoke those words, Squall started shacking uncontrollably.

Alarmed, Seifer tried to hold the young man closer to him.

"Gracious," he said, "You must be frozen! One second…" Still keeping one arm around his new ward, Seifer shrugged his long tawny trench coat of his shoulders, the fabric falling heavily into his hand. Very carefully, he slid the coat around Squall's own shoulders, tucking the sides around Squalls slim body like a blanket.

Try as he might, Squall couldn't seem to stop the shudders from wracking his whole body, but the coat seemed to help a little, the musty smell of Seifer's body washing over him. Let himself be led away, Squall followed the pressure of Seifer's hands as he was lead out of the road and towards an impressive looking jeep.

Mindlessly, Squall let himself be lifted into the passenger seat, his safety belt done up for him as if he were a child again, and the door shut securely against his side.

Hurrying, Seifer ran back around the other side of the jeep, practically jumping into the driver's seat, buckling himself in and turning to check on his companion.

The shock seemed to have finally settled into Squall, because before he knew what was happening, tears began leaking from his eyes. Sniffling pathetically, Squall couldn't quite believe himself – he hadn't cried like this since he was six! But once he started, he couldn't seem to stop himself, and a whole knew kind of shaking was wracking his body. Humiliated and confused, Squall pressed his hands to his face, trying to get himself under control but failing miserably. Fat salty tears slid down his palms, making his face feel horribly damp and blotchy. What a way to look in front of the person you fancy.

Unexpectedly, a pair of arms came out of nowhere and pulled Squall's face, rather hesitantly at first, into a warm solid chest. Seifers cotton pullover was soft against Squalls face, and he felt himself shake and sob even more uncontrollably.

Seifer was doing the only thing he could think of to do – he rocked the young man in his arms slowly, stroking his soft hair with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. The clutch was digging rather painfully into the side of Seifer's thigh, but he attempted to ignore it as he comforted and petted a distraught young man in his passenger seat.

It was a long and painfully intimate moment passing between two strangers. One of the most uncomfortable moments that Seifer or Squall had ever experienced in their lives.

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Eventually, Squalls sobbing began to subside, and the shock of what had happened began to recede. Reluctantly, Squall began to pull away from Seifer, returning to sit back in his chair. For a moment, Squall was able to pretend that he and Seifer we're not in fact perfect strangers, but that they truly did care for each other, and that Seifer was holding him because he felt something for him, rather than feeling the need to be charitable.

An uncomfortable silence followed as moth men sat back and stared at their laps.

Seifer coughed. "Well," he said, sticking out his hand in a comical sort of way, "my names Seifer Almasy."

Squall began to laugh. He could help it, after his stupid show of weakness, and everything else that had happened today, the laughter and random giggles just burst from his mouth.

Seifer's lips perked up at the edges, and soon he was laughing as well, tears of mirth leaking from the corners of his eyes as he grabbed the young man's hand and shook it vigorously.

"My-" more helpless giggles irrupted from Squalls mouth, "oh! My name is Squall Lionheart" he managed to finish, shaking back just as hard.

Their laughter subsided into wobbly smiles as they looked at each other and sighed. Seifer coughed.

"Look, I-"

Squall cut him off. "I'm sorry for walking out in front of you."

Seifer blinked. "Ah, no. Don't say that, it was all my fault. Not paying enough attention to the roads…" he trailed off.

Squall gave him a small smile. "Sounds like neither of us pay much attention to roads."

Seifer's laugh was a small one, but the smile he gave Squall told him that everything was ok between them. Which was a start.

Breathing in deeply, Seifer sat up straight in the drivers seat. "I think it's about time I gave you a lift home, don't you think?"

"Oh, what? That's really nice of you, erm, but you don't have to, I mean, if its too out of your way…"

"No, no, "Seifer smiled as he shook his head, "it's quite alright. It's the least I can do for you. As long as it's still in York, I really doubt it's that much out of my way."

Squall bit his lip in a way that made sweat brake out on Seifer palms.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, giving Seifer the names of a few streets he should go down. Seifer simply nodded – he knew them all quite well.

"Well, shouldn't be longer than about 10 minutes." Seifer started the engine, "That's actually quite near to where I work, anyways."

Squall stared. "Where you work?" he said dumbly.

"Yeah," Seifer smiled at the road, "the dig site. I'm an archaeologist."

Well, wasn't that stating the obvious, thought Seifer, mentally beating himself over the head. He felt like the presence of Squall (what a fantastic name!) had depleted his vocabulary down to about 10 words.

"I know." Said Squall, surprising Seifer, "I've seen you there."

"Oh," Seifer thought it was about time he shut up. "Do you go there often?" yes, he should defiantly shut up now.

"Mmm," said Squall, in very non-committing way.

"Eh, well, you should," God, Seifer's mouth was really running away with him now, "come more often I mean. I could, er, show you around the site. It's very interesting at the moment, what with all the things going on, at the site…"

Kill me now, thought Seifer.

"I-I'd like that. I'm really interested in things…. Like the site! Yes, I'm, er, very interested in the site." Squall's face flushed. Why did he always sound like such an idiot when he opened his mouth?

"Why don't you come down tomorrow then? If it's not any trouble, we're doing some very interesting tests tomorrow, not the kind of stuff you see every day, I doubt anyone would mind having you around and answering your questions.." Oh, now that was subtle, Seifer mently rolled his eyes, at least he won't think I'm stalking him...

Squall felt his face fall. "Oh, I'd really love to… but I have work tomorrow."

"Oh" Seifer sounded quite disappointed. "Where do you work?"

"The Tyr Café." Squall said without thinking.

"Really?" Seifer's eyebrows shot up. "What a weird coincidence, I was in there just today." He laughed, "We must have just missed each other."

"Lunch brake…" Squall mumbled.

Seifer was smiling again. "Oh well, funny how these things happen. Maybe you wouldn't mind coming down to the site after work, err, if you're not too tired that is…?"

As if, thought Squall. "That would be great". Both men turned and smiled at each other.

Flushing, Squall looked away first. Trying to think of something to say, he noticed where they where.

"My flat's just over there"

Seifer nodded and pulled over silently.

Hopping back out into the cold night air, Squall walked automatically up the road and through the old metal gate leading to Muspell House. He fumbled to pull his keys out of his tight jean pockets, feeling a warm body step closer to him.

Seifer had followed him up the small path, just to make sure everything was alright, or at least, that's how he wanted it to look.

Squall took the key out, but instead of putting it into the lock, he turned and faced Seifer.

"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then," Squall said quietly, not wanting to break the silence of the night.

Smiling fondly, Seifer reached out to stroke a thumb across Squall's cheek. "Try not to step in front of any more cars before then".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Squall ran through the apartment to his bedroom. After slamming the door securely behind him he slumped against it, pulling in a long breath.

The place where Seifer had touched his cheek felt like a line of fire, a brand against his face. He touched the place softly with the tips of his fingers, feeling the heat of his face as all the blood rushed to the surface. He particly shoved his first into his mouth, stifling the moan before it could surface.

Until that moment, he'd completely forgotten that he was still wearing Seifer's coat.

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And that's the end.

Or not. Had you worried for a moment there, didn't I? He he he... Anyways, reviwers!

Radrum: yeah, it would be ironic if Seifer was the one that hit him ;D

Kaycee3: Pretty Squall's all better ^^

Tongari: Your crazy, but I love you anyways :). Can you believe this girl reviewed every chapter?? Give her a round of applause *claps* :). Anyways, I've been meaning to ask, are you the same Tongari that's on the Noire Sensus forums? 'cause if you are, I've answered your post with the drawing in it ^^. If not, have a star *

XxmazleonhartxX: You should visit York, it rox ^_^. I'm hopefully going to Uni there, weee.....

FF9 Zidane: I doubt Squall's view of the outside world will ever improve... but maybe Seifer lovin' will ^_-

Hopemia: Yay! Another mulit reviewer. I adore thee....

TinyTaz: *throws fic for Taz to eat* Food for readers! Eat a cake while your waiting for the next one ;)

Kolinshar jackie-chan Benito: *meep* don't hurt me, I'm just a poor student with no time -_-.... But I will finish this! Mwha!

Darksquall: Lot's of hot yaoi indeed :D

deadxdreamer: *puts on crown* weee, queen of cliff hangers... if you think it's bad now, oh boy....

Well, until next time, don't feed the pretty boys!

Luv Kafers