Squall folded his arms over his chest, hitched a hip against the rough brick wall, and waited. After dinner Zell had told Squall to wait for him at the club, that he'd meet up with him after running an errand. Squall had agreed, but damned if he was going to wait alone inside; the hungry looks from passersby were bad enough without inviting more.
So it was with great relief that Squall saw Irvine, Selphie, and Quistis approaching him. He looked them over as they walked toward him. He'd already seen both women's outfits, but they were worth a second glance. Smiling appreciatively, Squall directed his attention to the tall man between them.
Irvine was clad in slacks and a sports coat the same color as his hair: white with the vaguest hint of yellow swirled into the weave to warm it. Beneath the jacket he wore a banded collar silk shirt of the purest scarlet. His hair was unbound and brushed out, flowing around his shoulders like a cape.
"I think he likes," Selphie commented sardonically. They'd reached Squall's side while he was engrossed.
"I think they both like," Quistis commented. Irvine was wearing the same dumbfounded expression as he stared at Squall.
Running her eyes appraisingly over Squall, Selphie said, "Good job dressing him."
Tilting her head to Irvine, Quistis replied, "Same to you."
"So where's Zell?" Selphie asked. "This was his idea."
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Squall told them, "He'll be here. He said he had something to do, first."
"I hope he hurries up and does it, then," Selphie declared, petulantly. "I want to go in."
"Then what are you waiting for?" Zell's voice came from a shadow.
"You, of course," Quistis answered, smiling, as Zell walked towards them.
"Yeah, I had to get something," he explained.
"What?" Selphie wanted to know.
"Me." A figure in black detached itself from the dark space between two buildings. As it approached it became apparent that the dark shirt under the long, flowing black coat was actually of a green far deeper than the sliced jade of its wearer's eyes.
"Seifer?" Quistis exclaimed as Selphie gasped and Irvine stiffened in alarm.
"In the flesh," Garden's black sheep drawled, a broad smirk plastered on his face.
The three watched in horror as Squall stepped forward, staring at him. Zell grinned.
"Seifer," Squall stated. He extended a hand and, to three wide-eyed stares and one quiet chuckle, Seifer took it. Squall drew the tall man into a one-armed embrace. "Looking good," he remarked.
"Thanks," Seifer said graciously, returning the hug. "Zell threatened to kick my ass if I didn't come out here tonight. He looked so cute trying to be tough, how could I resist?"
Smiling, Squall turned to the gaping onlookers, ignoring Zell's protest. "You all know Seifer," he said by way of introduction, "but I don't think he exactly knows all of you. The pretty one in purple is Selphie Tilmitt, and the pretty one in white is Irvine Kinneas." He was equally good at ignoring Selphie's pleased giggle and Irvine's fond rebuke.
Disregarding the responses, Seifer merely observed, "The gang's all here, then," before turning to Quistis. "My lovely instructor, would you give me the honor of the first dance?"
Speechless, Quistis stared at him. At last, she walked over and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Seifer," she whispered, eyes brimming, "it's good to have you back.
The habitual smirk that served Seifer as emotional armor faltered and fell away as he slowly reciprocated the embrace. It was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable, and completely genuine. It took a few tries before he managed a feeble, "Thank you."
Having decided that everything was going to be okay, Selphie bounced on the balls of her feet. "Come on!" she urged. "I wanna dance!"
"Okay, okay," Irvine said, then offered his arm. "Let's go." After a final curious glance, Irvine led Selphie into the crowd.
Zell clapped a hand on each of Seifer and Quistis' backs. "Let's get in there before it fills up too much."
Nodding her acknowledgement, Quistis took Seifer's hand and pulled him along. They quickly disappeared from view as the mass of people engulfed them.
"Our turn," Zell commented, turning to Squall. He looked closely at his friend, then, "You really hate crowds, don't you?"
Arms crossed protectively in front of him, Squall nodded tersely.
"How did you manage that mission in Deling City?" Zell wondered. "It was at least this crowded."
"That was different."
"How so?"
"It was a mission. My job was to stand in the crowd and wait. Besides, I had my gunblade."
"Well," Zell tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin, "that could be a problem. Going in there with a weapon would be a bad idea." A thought struck him. "Can't you just pretend it's a mission to go in there and have fun?"
"No." The response was automatic.
"Why not?" At the lack of response, Zell asked, "Squall, seriously, have I ever hurt you?"
Rubbing his neck where Zell had bitten, Squall smiled slyly. "Yes."
Zell stuck his tongue out. "I didn't hear you complaining."
"Nor you," Squall riposted.
Zell broke into peals of laughter. When it had quieted somewhat, he assumed a stern manner and ordered, "Commander Leonhart, your mission is to infiltrate a popular dance club and insinuate yourself amongst the clientele. To avert suspicion, you are required to go in without a weapon. Use your training to blend in; take any steps necessary to that end."
Squall laughed; Zell's good humor was contagious. "The reason, sir?" he asked, saluting.
"Like they ever tell us why," was the exasperated response.
"Point taken."
"So are we going in or not?" Zell demanded.
"You'll stay by me?" Squall inquired, a note of pleading creeping in at the edge of his voice.
Smiling affectionately, Zell said, "You won't be alone, I promise."
"Zell?"
"Huh?"
"Why'd you do it?"
He'd been waiting for that one. "For you. You sounded so upset over him; I had to bring him along." Zell sighed. "I may not like him, but Seifer is one of ours. Besides, when I took him out shopping for that outfit I saw one of the scars you mentioned. I swear it looked like somebody had hammered a spike in his side."
Shuddering, knowing about this one—Seifer having confessed after a worried interrogation—Squall muttered, "Close enough." Ultimecia, using Edea, had driven one of her unnaturally elongated, taloned fingers into him, so that she could drink the blood that he coughed up as it filled his punctured lung. Squall's mind shied away from the knowledge of the circumstances under which this had occurred.
Curious, but eager to get inside, Zell simply inclined his head toward the open door of the club. "Well?"
"One more thing: how'd you get him to come?" Squall stared into Zell's sapphire blue eyes, silently demanding complete honesty.
Zell gave it. "I told him that you were worried and wanted him back among friends. Then I said I didn't give a shit if he came back, but if he upset you I'd track him down and feed him his guts in an ice cream cone." Zell smiled. "That made him laugh. The hardest part was getting him to let me buy him new clothes. Stubborn bastard. He's as bad as you." Grinning his toothy grin, Zell winked and asked, "So are we going in now, or what?"
"Okay… enough stalling." Squall took a deep breath and visibly braced himself. "Come on."
Together, they walked through the door of the club. They quickly spotted Selphie waving from a table near the far wall. She was rather hard to miss, as she was standing on the table, flashing lights reflecting from her metallic hair and beaded top in scintillating rainbows. They made their way around the fringes of the dance floor.
"S'up, Selphie?" Zell greeted her. "Besides you, that is." He flashed a grin in her direction.
"Catch!" she called, just before flinging herself off of the table.
Reflexively, Squall caught her before she could hurt herself.
"I was just holding the table for us," she replied to Zell's question, flinging her arms around Squall's neck and delivering a quick thank you kiss before dropping to the floor. "Irvine's off getting us some drinks, and there," she pointed, "are Quisty and Seifer."
Slightly dazed, Squall looked where she had indicated. Seifer and Quistis were dancing to the quick beat of a popular song. Seeing them, how startlingly beautiful they looked together, brought a tight, empty feeling to his chest.
The two moved in perfect time with each other—Quistis' dress floating around her in dizzying swirls of blue, Seifer's black opera coat flaring dramatically behind him—as they spun together, weaving in and out of the other dancers, none half so graceful as they.
"Whoa!" Zell exclaimed, turning to see them. "They look awesome!" Selphie nodded her fervent agreement.
"Wanna dance, Zell?" she asked.
Giving Squall a sidelong glance, Zell saw the flash of panic. "Not right now," he hedged.
"Why not?"
"A little help, please?" Irvine interjected. He'd walked up behind them all. As they turned it became obvious why he'd asked. He was fighting to hold six glasses in two hands, and losing quickly.
Squall, being closest, was the first to his aid, putting his hands out to provide a platform for the glasses to rest on. Once stabilized, Selphie and Zell began plucking drinks from their hands and setting them on the table.
When everything was settled, Irvine flopped into a chair and sucked down half of something pink in one gulp.
"Zell?" Selphie resumed, "why won't you dance with me now?"
"Ah…" he looked helplessly at Squall for an answer. Squall shrugged, inclined his head towards the seated Irvine, and then nodded once at Zell. "No reason," Zell answered her brightly, relieved by the permission. He held out his hand. "Let's go." Selphie eagerly accepted and together they waded out to a free spot on the floor.
Squall silently sat next to Irvine.
"Here." The tall blond pushed a glass at him. "I got this for you."
"What is it?"
"Just soda with a little grenadine. I didn't figure you for the drinking type," Irvine replied with a casual shrug.
"What do you have?"
"Same thing, but with vodka."
Nodding thoughtfully, Squall sipped his drink and looked around. He caught a glimpse of Zell and Selphie ostensibly dancing. It looked more like training, however. They kicked and spun, throwing punches and other strikes that never landed, but always looked like they would. A wide space had formed around them.
"Lookin' good," Irvine commented.
"Yes," Squall answered. "They are."
A punch to the arm brought Squall's focus back to the table. "I meant you," Irvine said.
Seeing the broad, exasperated grin made Squall smile in return. "You, too."
They studied each other for a silent moment before Irvine inclined his head toward the dance floor. "Zell looks incredible in those pants. I don't think he's going home alone tonight. Just look at them drooling."
It was true. A circle had formed around the two, partially in self-defense, but mostly in slack-jawed amazement. Every last watcher looked hungry for one or the other of them.
"That's what I told him," Squall stated before tasting his drink. "Not bad." He took another swallow.
Irvine was studying him. "Plan on being the one he goes home with?" he asked casually.
Glass halfway to his lips, Squall froze. He was spared having to answer, however, by Seifer and Quistis' appearance.
They dropped, laughing, into chairs opposite the two. "Which one's mine?" Quistis asked, hand hovering near the drinks.
Irvine pushed a glass into her waiting grasp. "One screwdriver for the lovely lady," he pushed another glass at Seifer, "and a vodka sour for the gentleman."
Seifer reached gratefully for his drink. Squall noticed that the two men's hands touched just a hair longer than necessary on the glass as it changed hands. Taking a drink to hide his smile, Squall looked back to the dance floor.
The music had switched to something slower, but Selphie and Zell still danced like demented angels: fierce and golden and so beautiful it hurt to look on them. Selphie danced like a flame, contorting unpredictably and throwing off light and heat with every motion. Zell, on the other hand, Zell danced like water. He was liquid and flowing, every gesture, every movement gently gliding into the next with deceptive speed and grace.
He dances like his waterfall, Squall thought in wonder. Fire and water, together on the floor; it was a work of art.
"Incredible, aren't they?" Irvine said in his ear. Squall jumped. He didn't know how long he'd been staring, awestruck, at the pair. "Just incredible," Irvine repeated, a little awestruck, himself.
Nodding, unable to speak for the sudden lump in his throat, Squall agreed. What was he to that kind of beauty? They were living fire, flowing water; he was still, cold, silent. Ice. Ice wouldn't stand a chance.
Would it?
Could he stand against them without being destroyed or carried away?
And did he care?
Would it really be so bad to feel himself melting into another?
And did he really need that mental image after two days full of aborted sexual arousal while wearing very tight, low-cut pants?
Turning his attention back to the table, Squall realized that there was no safe place for him to look. Irvine, Seifer, and Quistis were all staring at him, all beautiful to behold, and all wearing varying degrees of mocking grin.
"Like what you see?" Seifer drawled. "Maybe you'd like a closer look?"
Squall rested his drink back on the table and folded his arms, glaring silently, and desperately trying to think of anything but how those sneering lips had tasted.
"Squall knows he only has to ask if he wants more," Quistis said. She turned to Squall, and there was perhaps an invitation on her face—or perhaps it was just a teasing look. Who could tell?
Putting on a cool front he regarded her, considering her words at face value. Was it that simple? Did he only have to ask? Maybe.
But if so, who?
And how could anybody think straight with all this noise, boxed in and trapped by hordes of people?
"Squall?" Irvine shook him gently. "You okay, man? You zoned out."
"… Fine." Quistis answered, simultaneously with Squall. He groped for his glass and tossed it back without tasting it, trying to sooth the harsh catch in his tight throat.
"Uh…" Irvine tried, then shook his head. Squall had taken the rest of his drink by mistake, but he seemed tense enough to need it. Shrugging it off, Irvine rose to get himself another. "Anybody else for another round?" he asked.
Quistis declined, but Seifer stood up. "I'll go with you," he volunteered.
"Thanks. I had some trouble last time." Irvine's wry smile was tinged with humor, and a little something more. The two tall blonds struck out for the bar.
Quistis watched them go, smiling faintly, before turning back to Squall. "What you did for Seifer, that was very good of you," she said. Then, frowning, she added, "Are you having second thoughts about him?"
Squall shook his head.
"Then what's wrong? Is it the crowd?"
He nodded abruptly.
Quistis shifted to his side of the table. Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, she leaned in and whispered, "You can leave if you need to. We all want you here, but not if it bothers you this much."
Squall seriously considered it. He could leave, just find a quiet hole somewhere to hide in, away from the crush of bodies, the noise that pounded at him until his bones felt ready to shatter from the vibration, the overwhelming sensation of so many lives packed in like sardines in a can, completely unaware of the degradation they were suffering. He thought very hard about leaving this rabble and finding a blank wall to stare at until his mind could calm down.
Then… then he thought about Quistis and how excited she had been over seeing him in the clothes she had chosen. He thought about Selphie sparkling like a jewel in the lights. He thought about Irvine, looking so natural, so suave, simply in his element and all the more stunning because of it. He thought about Seifer, who had suffered horribly and still managed to have a good time. Finally, he thought about Zell, who had wanted him to be here, who had been so happy when he'd agreed, and who cared enough to seek out and bring someone he despised—only to please Squall.
"No," he said at last. "I'll stay."
"Are you sure?" Quistis pressed. "You don't look so good."
"It'll pass." He shrugged. A thought struck him then. "Do you think—"
"Hey, guys!" Zell exclaimed, slapping Squall on the back at his approach. He slid the seat on the other side of Squall from Quistis as Selphie dropped into the opposite place.
"Hey! Tequila!" Selphie cheered, passing Zell his glass, complete with lime wedge. She licked her hand and sprinkled it with salt from the shaker on the table. "Ready?" she challenged.
"You better believe it," Zell shot back, salting his own hand.
Quistis and Squall stared at them as they both licked the salt from their hands and downed the tequila.
Zell's lips twisted in distaste and he sucked on the lime wedge as soon as he could. Selphie, on the other hand, just smiled mischievously.
"Aww… poor little baby can't take his tequila like a man? Maybe he should get a girly wine cooler, instead?" she taunted the short blond.
"Like hell!" Leaping to his feet, Zell stormed to the bar.
Selphie grinned triumphantly. Trying to suppress a smile, Quistis shook her head disapprovingly. Squall, however, frowned at her.
"Why do you have to tease him?" he rebuked. "He hates it."
"Relax, Squall," Selphie said, holding up her hands. "Zell knows I don't mean anything by it. Besides," she added, "you tease him worse than I ever could."
He wanted to ask what she meant but he noticed her eyes; she was looking at his shoulder, where, to his slight surprise, Quistis' hand still rested.
She seemed to notice it at the same time. Withdrawing the intruding extremity, she colored slightly and said, "Excuse me." She rose and walked in the direction of the restrooms just as Zell returned with a bottle in one hand and four stacked glasses in the other, the topmost holding a collection of lime wedges.
"Where's she going?" he asked by way of greeting.
"Where do you think?" Selphie scoffed. "Now bring on the tequila!"
"Some for everybody," Zell said cheerfully, placing his burdens on the table. He poured three shots, pushed one to Selphie, another to Squall, and pulled the third to himself.
"Nuh-uh," Squall declined, pushing the glass away.
"Oh, c'mon, Squall," Selphie whined. "Loosen up!"
"No."
"Y'know," Zell said, leaning close to his stubborn friend, "it might do you some good. You don't have to get drunk, but a drink or two will take the edge off, make the crowd and everything a little more bearable."
"… You think I should?"
"Definitely, baby."
"Well… okay." Squall picked up the glass and regarded it a moment before setting it to his lips.
"Whoa!" Zell interjected. "Not like that! Maybe Selphie of the iron stomach could manage it, but you shouldn't even try. No," he said, shaking his head, "watch me, then do what I do."
Obediently, Squall watched as, once again, Zell and Selphie salted, licked, shot, and, in Zell's case, sucked the lime.
"How do you do that?" Zell asked in awe.
"I like the taste," she stated, shrugging delicately.
"Freak," Zell admired, then, turned to Squall. "Okay, your turn." He held out the saltshaker.
Dubiously eyeing the proffered item, Squall accepted it, not without trepidation. As he'd seen the others do, he licked his hand and sprinkled it with salt. He picked up the highball glass with its oversized shot of tequila.
"Remember," Zell cautioned, "breathe in, lick, swallow, breathe out, suck."
"What's all this for, anyway?"
"It mellows the taste."
"Oh." Taking a deep breath, Squall did as instructed.
When Quistis returned a few minutes later, Zell was still patting Squall's back.
"Are you going to be sick?" Zell was asking.
"What happened?" Quistis demanded, sitting next to Squall and running a protective hand through his mother-of-pearl hair. She angrily noted the tears running down his face.
"Squall just met tequila," Selphie announced solemnly. "They didn't get along."
"It's… vile," Squall choked out, wiping his eyes with the back of his (unsalted) hand. "You actually like this?" he demanded incredulously.
Selphie shrugged innocently. "What can I say? It's an acquired taste."
"You feeling okay, now?" Zell asked solicitously.
"Yeah," Squall answered, then sucked again on his lime wedge. "This'd better work, or I'm going to kick your ass."
"Like you did earlier?" Zell said teasingly.
"No." Squall shook fire opal locks away from his face. "Next time I won't give you the advantage of hand to hand."
Zell merely smirked.
"What do you mean, 'This'd better work'?" Quistis wanted to know.
"Zell said it would help me relax in this crowd. If it doesn't, then I'm leaving, because I can't go through that again."
"… Why tequila?" Quistis looked accusingly at Zell. "Why not… something easier?"
"Tequila's fast. Besides, it was here."
She had to concede, at least to the first point.
"Less talking, more drinking!" Selphie said, pouring two shots. "Quisty?" she offered.
"No." Quistis waved a hand dismissively. "I never touch the stuff. It makes me sick. Besides, I still have a drink." She paused, considering. "Where have Irvine and Seifer gotten to?" she mused. "They can't still be at the bar."
"Ugh. Man, this stuff is harsh." Zell wiped his mouth and set down his lime wedge. "Nah, they're over there." He waved a hand vaguely. The others turned to look where he'd indicated.
Selphie was the first to spot them. "Oh… oh my." She burst into a fit of giggles.
Quistis merely turned up a corner of her mouth and took a swallow of her drink.
Squall stared in amazement.
On the dance floor, looking like photo negatives—one all in black, the other in white—Seifer and Irvine were undulating slowing to the sultry beat of the music. Each had one leg between the others', hands loosely grasping their partner's hips. Their eyes were closed, heads swaying with their movements, each of them wearing a smile born of sheer enjoyment.
They looked like they were having a great time.
Slumping back into his chair, Squall thought about everything. His friends, recent events, how he felt about them… where to start?
Start with what you know. Alright: Rinoa. He knew that all he felt for Rinoa was friendship and a strong obligation, both gratitude for saving him from himself and his promise to defend her. He knew he should be careful, that promise might come back to haunt him later.
Granting that his emotions for Rinoa were firmly in the realm of friendship, how did that compare to the others, with whom he was nowhere near certain?
Fiery Selphie, currently downing her fifth shot of tequila and apparently none the worse for it, what of her? She was lovely, energetic, enthusiastic… and quite honestly, a pain in the ass. Ice was his element, he knew that, like it or not. It always would be. Fire and ice just don't mix.
Okay, Selphie's just a friend. One down, four to go. Elements seemed to be working well for analogies, so he tried to match everyone to what they embodied.
Zell had already been established as water; he was seemingly transparent, yet possessed of surprising depths. He could run quickly, a veritable torrent, or be a still pool, easily rippled but always resettling.
Quistis was the earth. Solid, reliable, not easily roused, but beware of tipping off an earthquake or landslide. You'd be buried and she would keep it all inside. Also, like the earth, she could be mined for valuables; golden nuggets of wisdom and bright gems of personality all lay waiting under her shell, revealed sometimes with patience and effort, and other times by pure chance, but always delighting the lucky recipient.
Irvine was air. He was a warm breeze on a cool morning, or sometimes a tornado, when the situation called for it. He could just float there, hardly noticeable, on the periphery of life until he stormed; he'd be back to just existing soon enough, wondering what all the trouble was about. He was volatile by nature and needed to be regarded with caution and respect.
Oh, but then there was Seifer. Seifer was harder to classify. Too grounded for air, too flexible for earth, too rigid for water, too centered for fire, too deliberate for lightning… strong, righteous, often merciless and yet capable of surprising tenderness: Seifer was holy.
Brings new meaning to the phrase "holy shit," Squall thought, chuckling silently to himself.
"Squall?"
He looked up to find Quistis, Zell, and Selphie staring at him in concern.
"You okay, baby?" Zell went on. "Tequila making you sick?"
After a pause for a mental self-check, Squall shook his head. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
"Stop it, then," Quistis told him. "It looks painful."
His laugh surprised all of them.
"You sure you're feelin' alright?" Zell asked in concern.
"Yeah. You were right about the tequila. You generally are." Squall missed Zell's gratified grin by standing. "I'll be back in a bit."
Leaving behind the dumbstruck trio, Squall waded fearlessly into the throng. In order to figure out his own feelings, he needed to determine the others'; Irvine and Seifer—nicely ambiguous as they were—seemed like a good place to start.
He caught the couple just as the song ended. Tapping Irvine on the shoulder, as he was the closest, he asked, "Can we talk for a minute?"
"Sure," the lanky blond replied. He turned to his dance partner. "I'm gonna talk to Squall real quick. Order me a drink, would you?"
"I'll think about it." Seifer shot a smoldering glare at Squall then turned towards the bar.
Irvine gazed after the departing figure and licked his lips; Squall poked his arm to get his attention.
"Oh. Right," Irvine said, flustered. "What can I do you for, beautiful?"
"I need to ask you something." Squall looked around, then plucked at Irvine's sleeve. "Over here."
Once they were in a relatively private place Squall blurted out, "Earlier, you said that you only flirt when you're not serious. Are you serious?"
The glaze left his eyes and Irvine sighed. "I don't know," he said seriously, focused directly on Squall. "I mean, I haven't flirted all that much, but there's so much history between us… I just don't know."
Stung, Squall muttered, "And you said I needed to make a choice."
"I know, I know. It's just… everything seems so different tonight." Leaning back against the wall and closing amethyst eyes, Irvine sighed again. "We have to live fast… there's no telling when we'll go up against something meaner and nastier than us, you know? We have to live every moment like it's our last. But we still have to be willing to live with the consequences. What am I willing to live with? That's the question.
Can I really face being with a man so focused on destruction? Sure, there are some nice things, too, including an ass that won't quit, but he's so… I don't know."
The hurt Squall had been hiding was quickly replaced by confusion. "What?"
Violet eyes snapped open. "You can't tell me you don't think Seifer's gorgeous?" Irvine was incredulous.
"When did we start talking about Seifer?"
"Uh… when you asked me if I was serious about him," Irvine said slowly. "How much have you had to drink?"
"What are you talking about? I asked if you were serious about me."
A startled laugh leapt from Irvine before he could suppress it. "Sweetheart, you're lovely, you're a great guy, you're a fabulous kisser, and there's no one I would rather trust at my back… but you're just not my type." Pushing himself upright, he lay a soft kiss on Squall's forehead then bent to whisper in his ear, "Besides, I think we both know your heart lies somewhere else." He cast a meaningful glance at the table where Selphie, Zell, and Quistis still sat, laughing and drinking.
"So," Irvine asked, suddenly earnest, "what do you think I should do about Seifer?"
Thinking fast, trying desperately to process this new turn of events, Squall said, "I'll talk to him and find out."
"You… you will?" The marksman sounded pathetically grateful.
"I need to talk to him, anyway."
"Thanks, man!" Irvine caught his smaller friend up in a crushing bear hug. "Just give me a nod if it's okay."
"And if it's not okay?" he asked Irvine's shirt.
"Then don't nod."
"No." Squall shook his head and tried to extricate himself from Irvine's grasp. "I mean he still needs friends. If it's not okay are you just going to abandon him?"
"Nah. I just won't ask him to bed." He finally released the spluttering Squall.
"That's a little sudden, isn't it?"
"Weren't you listening to me earlier? All that stuff about living fast? Ring any bells?"
"Point taken. Well… if it's alright then you can ask, but don't push him. He's been through a lot and none of it pleasant."
Irvine saluted. "Yes, sir!"
Shaking his head, Squall went after Seifer. Two down.
"Warning him off of me?" Seifer inquired dryly as Squall approached. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, another, full glass beside him.
"Not everything is about you, Almasy," Squall retorted, sliding onto the barstool to Seifer's right.
The big blond turned his head lazily. "Are you tryin' to tell me that I never came up in that conversation?" Squall's silence spoke for him. "So what'd you tell him, 'stay away from the big, bad Seifer'?"
More silence. Finally, "How are you, really?" Impassively meeting Seifer's green glare Squall went on. "In regards to everything that's happened, are you alright?"
"Helluva thing to ask a sober man," the ex-knight in tarnished armor muttered, and then took a drink. "Why does it matter? Why are you asking?"
Squall sighed. "Look, you told me a lot today. I know what you went through, and it was more than enough to screw up stronger people than you—not that there are many—" Seifer looked gratified at that, "—and I know that you said something about not reacting well to women now."
"I think I said I didn't think I could sleep with another woman," Seifer interjected sourly, his pleasure at the sidelong compliment waning. "Or something to that effect. Get to the point."
"Fine. The point: are you willing to sleep with a man? Tonight?"
Eyes wide, mouth gaping, Seifer stared at Squall for a long moment. Eventually he blinked; his mouth pulled up into a strange smile. "I guess that depends on which one of us is on top. If it's you, I'll have to say no."
Squall felt his cheeks flush with heat. "Not me!" he exclaimed, ignoring the odd look from the bartender. Seifer only laughed at him. "I'm not—I just—" he stammered. Sure, the occasional stray thought had tended in that direction, after all, who but Seifer—until very recently, that is—had ever aroused his passions?
Seifer was beautiful, his milky green eyes sparkling with glee at Squall's discomfiture. It was terribly easy to imagine that strong body curled against his… but now that he was called on it, he had to admit that while the idea of getting naked and horizontal with Seifer had some appeal, he certainly didn't want anything that would accompany it. A purely physical relationship was not something Squall desired, and there were only two people he could think of that he felt capable of anything more.
"No," he said, trying to shake his thoughts into place, "Irvine's interested, but I told him to wait until I could talk to you. I don't want your life any harder than it is."
"If you didn't want it hard, you shouldn't have asked me for sex," Seifer teased.
The smoke-blue glare only made Seifer laugh delightedly. "Should I tell him to leave you alone?" was the quiet question.
Seifer paused for a moment of serious thought. "No," he mused. Then, stronger, "No. I'm willing to try something new. Life is too short to waste on waiting."
"He said something very much like that," Squall said softly. "Maybe you're on to something with that."
Seeing Squall's pensive expression, so familiar under the soft shimmering hair, almost solid blue from the lighting, Seifer nudged him gently and asked, "Personal problems?"
"You could say that." Deciding to repay Seifer's trust and confidence, he confessed, "I think I'm in love or… or something close enough to it."
"Really?" Seifer grinned. "Who's the lucky lady? Or is it a lady?"
"That's the problem. I don't know." Squall buried his head miserably in his hands. "I feel the same way towards two people… one of each," came his muffled voice. "Zell and Quistis. Quistis or Zell. I don't know who I'd rather be with." He raised his head to look pleadingly at Seifer. "How can I tell? They're both close friends, both gorgeous, and both interested enough to give it a try. How can I choose?" He slumped again.
There was a hesitant moment before Seifer reached over to lay a comforting hand on Squall's back. "Who do you like to spend time with?" he ventured.
"It depends," Squall moaned into his hands. "Zell's good if I need to work off some energy, but Quistis is more comfortable to be quiet around."
"And I know you and your quiet time," Seifer muttered in good-natured irritation. "So, tell me about them," he continued.
Squall raised his head again, suddenly suspicious. "Why? You already know them both."
"Yeah." Seifer laughed loudly. "I know that one's a bossy busy-body and the other's a little chicken. I wouldn't figure you to go for either type. Tell me what you know about them."
"Huh." Squall stared thoughtfully at his hands, absently worrying at a hangnail. "Um… who first?"
Seifer shrugged. "Who cares? The chicken."
A small smile tugged at Squall's lips. "He really hates that, you know. I think you can safely call him short now, though." Laughing softly at the memory of an insult-ridden wrestling match, Squall attempted to describe Zell. "He's… he's so full of life. He wears everything on the surface and his moods can shift so quickly, it's easy to think that he's an idiot, but there's a lot more to him than that. He followed me like a lost puppy for so long—I didn't really notice what I was throwing away with him. I still can't believe that I thought he was annoying."
"You mean the hopping around and swatting at the air didn't tip you off?"
Directing a sidelong look from beneath a raised eyebrow, Squall commented, "No more so than your oh-so-superior smirk. And you both do it for pretty much the same reasons." He waited until the smirk dropped away, to be replaced by a small, though genuine, amused smile. "In a lot of ways, Zell is like a kid. I don't really remember how it felt the first time I saw snow, or… or tasted ice cream, or any of those things that just hit you with the simple joys of life. But he feels it all the time, and when you watch him get so excited over something so ordinary… you start to feel a little of that wonder, yourself."
An indulgent smile had crept over Squall's face as he spoke. Seifer noted it, but refrained from drawing any attention to it. Instead, he offered, "I was surprised to find him pounding on my door today. I thought for sure it'd be you—or the army. I don't know why you sent him to collect me, though. It's pretty out of character for you to think to invite me someplace like this."
"Ah… I didn't. I told Zell you were in town. I would have told Quistis, but…" Squall shook his head dismissively. Distractions were hell. "He did everything after that on his own," he continued. "It's no secret that he doesn't like you, but he still thought to bring you along. It's part of his charm, I guess." The smile became a grin. "He'd go through hell for a friend, and I really admire that in him." Squall looked into suddenly haunted green eyes and said, "In you, too."
Pleased, but unwilling to display it, Seifer said, "So what about Quistis? How does she compare?"
"Quistis is… complicated. Until yesterday, I didn't even see her as. . . well, as anything. She's been a fixture, she's always been there for me, she's always been so reliable, so composed… she's a rock."
"So what happened yesterday?"
"Uh," Squall colored a little, though it was hard to tell between his earlier full blush and the flashing, multicolored lights, "she, uh, she told me that she was tired of me being so ungrateful," he said, guiltily.
"Uh-huh," Seifer said, his voice flat with disbelief. "What aren't you telling me?"
He didn't want to say it, but he'd asked Seifer for help; Seifer deserved all the facts. "She bawled me out for being an insensitive bastard. She was wet and wearing my shirt and she didn't look like our old teacher, she looked like a woman. A wet, miserable, crying, incredibly sexy woman."
Seifer raised his own eyebrow and gestured for Squall to continue.
Squall sighed and did so. "I kissed her. It's what she'd wanted for a long time, which is why I hadn't wanted to give it to her. I hate being chased. Still, the way she looked right then… and today, in the dressing room… that was all my fault."
The other eyebrow lifted. "'Today in the dressing room'?" Seifer asked, not quite certain he wanted to know.
Squall ran a hand self-consciously down his body and sighed. "She picked out my clothes… I couldn't figure out how the hell to get these pants on. She came in and… well, you saw the dress," he said by way of explanation.
Green eyes went wide. "You didn't!"
Currently indigo eyes widened in realization of what he'd implied. "No! No, I—we—didn't. Only because I made her leave, though." Squall sighed once more, with feeling. "That didn't help when I saw Zell a little later, either."
Finely sculpted blond eyebrows were attempting to burrow into carefully groomed blond hair. "Did you…?"
"No. Not with him, either." Squall rubbed at his neck, remembering the feeling of Zell's teeth in his flesh, and vice versa.
Attempting to get back on the original subject, Seifer said, "So… you like Zell because he's fun, and you like Quistis because she's reliable."
"Yes, but Zell is very reliable, and Quistis is fun in her own way, too."
"You're impossible," Seifer observed with a sour look. "Okay then, who's the better kisser?"
"Yes." At Seifer's glare he elaborated, "Quistis is good. She's soft, eager, passionate… and willing to be submissive. Zell is strong, hard, enthusiastic and rough, and he seems to always want to be in control."
"Sounds like an easy choice, then. Go with Quistis."
"But…" Squall's words were almost too quiet to distinguish, "I like it a little rough, sometimes."
Closing his eyes, Seifer shook his head. "You really are impossible." He took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush. "Alright. You've got them balanced on personality and on physical levels. Asking if you'd rather be with a man or a woman obviously wouldn't work, otherwise you wouldn't be having this problem. Besides, there's nothing you can do in bed with one that you can't do with the other, as long as you're a little creative. So…" he fixed Squall with a piercing glare, "imagine this: you've just had the most mind-blowing sex of your life, and you're laying there in the afterglow with your head on your partner's chest. Do you want that chest to be hard and flat—and maybe hairy—or do you want it to have built-in pillows?"
Drawing in a breath to decry that as the most ridiculous question ever uttered Squall paused.
He released the breath.
He thought about it.
He raised first one hand, then another in the air and traced then over an imaginary body in front of him. The first hand moved in a straight line; the second cupped the air and made a weighing motion. The hands alternated movement for some time.
He smiled.
Seifer shook his head in disgust. "You're over thinking this. Have a little dignity." He stood, taking his drink and the partially diluted one he'd bought for Irvine. "Go embarrass Selphie, why doncha?" he said, waving a glass at the approaching woman. "I'm going to see about getting' laid tonight." He sauntered in the last known direction of Irvine.
"Hey, Squall!" Selphie called cheerfully on her way to the bar. "I'm here for another bottle—Zell's determined to drink me under the table, silly boy." She looked carefully at Squall's glazed expression. "Have you been drinking? Oh!"
The last was in response to Squall suddenly grabbing her waist and kissing her. "Selphie, my sweet, we're simply not meant to be."
"Are you drunk?" she demanded, pushing away from him.
"Not that I know of. I just made my decision, is all. I know who I want."
"Took you long enough," was all she said. She looked back at Zell and Quistis at the table, turned her head to Squall, and grinned. "Go on. You've waited long enough."
Obediently, Squall headed for their table. He sat down opposite them, Quistis to his right, Zell to his left. They looked up, saw his face, and then waited, expectantly, for him to speak.
"I've made my choice," he announced. He turned one way, "We'll always be friends," he said, then turned the other, "but I want more."
Pale lashes fluttered in surprise.
Blue eyes glowed with emotion.
A hand brushed back loose, yellow hair.
Full lips smiled happily.
"All you had to do was ask."