Chapter Six: This Lovely View.
Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know-it-all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you
'cause with these birds I'll share this lonely view
Red Hot Chilli Peppers: Scar Tissue
There is NO hope. I'm writing fanfiction smut. Fansmut.
Grrr. Argh.
This chapter is shorter than usual, but it also contains
more naked people. I'm hoping you find that a good
exchange. Nothing explicit: the rating's still a strong
PG-13. If you have a problem with this, please don't
read. I refuse to be blamed for undoing your years of
therapy.
Still here?
Then onto the fic.
Quistis finished her carton of orange and set it neatly
down on the sill. She steepled her hands and checked
her watch.
It wasn't late.
Below them the party had started to get more incoherent,
though it still sounded happy. Voices were singing
drunkenly round the fire, accompanied by more
off-key guitar music. It was a song about string. More
accurately, it was a song about a girl, a sailor, a string
and precious little else, including clothes.
She adjusted her glasses automatically. There was a little
kink in the metal where Seifer had straightened them for
her. Quistis took them off and turned them over and over
in her hands, running her finger over the join.
You could hardly tell it was there. He'd done a good job.
For once.
She'd half expected her glasses to snap in Seifer's hands.
The man had his own special brand of anarchic entropy
that he seemed to carry round like other people wore
deodorant. But no, they were just fine.
He could do one thing well, at least…
Quistis thought for a second, added 'fighting' as a second
item to her mental list and then had to stop herself from
wondering what else Seifer did well.
She sighed in irritation, quashed the thought and readjusted
her glasses on her nose, staring calmly out at the scene below.
Beside her Seifer finished his latest cigarette and flicked
the butt onto the roof. It rolled down the tiles and onto the
ground below, showering glowing sparks as it went like
a miniature version of the sparklers people were handing
out round the bonfire.
Quistis waited for screams, but none came.
Thankfully she stretched her hand out to catch another
soft flake of ash. It reminded her of Rinoa and her
feathers, in some ways.
Seifer shifted, bringing both feet down to slam on the tiles.
Quistis was rather uncomfortably conscious that the
windowsill, like everything in the flat, wasn't over-large.
Except for the ego of its tenant, she thought sourly.
Her hip bumped his, their ankles almost touching on the
roof. He smelled of smoke and sun.
She closed her fist, crushing the tiny ash feather into
her palm.
Seifer followed her hand with his eyes. "It's like Rinoa.
Them bloody feathers."
Quistis considered Rinoa. "I guess." At least she doesn't
moult at will.
"You think it'd have been different if I hadn't met her?"
"Maybe. If Rinoa hadn't come to Garden then she wouldn't
have asked Cid for help. And if she hadn't done that
then Squall wouldn't have gone to Timber. He wouldn't
have met her."
"And…" Seifer said slowly. "..then I wouldn't have held
Deling at gunpoint."
"That wasn't your best idea."
"I wasn't thinking." He kicked at the tiles.
"You could tell." Quistis could feel the muscles in his leg
move, under the jeans. She tried to move, but there wasn't
really anywhere else to go, except inside. The most worrying
thing was that she didn't mind.
This concerned her.
"Dammit. If I hadn't met Rinoa then Squall might still have
won, but at least he'd be single."
"Without Rinoa we might have lost."
"Might have…." Seifer drank more beer, scowling at Quistis,
the beer and the happy people below.
Quistis had a thought. "Hyne, if you'd been better at fighting
you might have killed Squall."
Seifer scowled at her. "Bloody hell. Thanks. You're wasting
your time. Even if I did jump off the roof, I'd only break my legs."
"I'm only trying to make you feel better."
"Why? Listen, don't bother. I was okay before."
Quistis wondered, indeed, why she was bothering. "If you
hadn't been pushing at Squall all the time in Garden, he might
have failed. We might all be speaking Galbadian now and
Edea might still be possessed."
His scowl deepened. "I liked your first idea better. That's never
going to work. 'Oh, thanks for screwing us over, 'cause if you
hadn't it might not have worked out the way it did.'" The
bitterness in his voice could have soured Quistis' juice.
The singing below had changed into a slower, more maudlin tune.
Quistis tapped her fingers along with the rhythm and felt
vaguely awkward.
"…..I spent my whole life out there on the sea
…some government bastard now takes it from me…"
Seifer blinked. "Nice."
She shrugged. "You were fishing. They're not happy?"
"No one's happy."
"Call no man happy, until he is dead." Quistis quoted.
"You were dead. You didn't look all that happy."
She shook her head. "No. It's some old classical author.
It means you can't weigh up someone's life and decide
whatever they really were until they're dead."
"Thanks for the pep talk, but I'm not in the bloody mood."
There was a long silence, and this time it really was quiet. The
singing had stopped down below as the evening at last began to
cool down. It was late, now. The rising night wind coming off
the sea ruffled Quistis' hair and flapped the ragged curtains
around them both.
She spat hair from her mouth and began to think that she really
should be getting back. It was a beautiful night, now that most
of the crowd had left. By the embers of the bonfire someone
was still practicing a guitar.
From the sound, they needed the practice.
Seifer smiled evilly at her, picked up his last empty beer can
and threw it.
He really was a very good shot.
"Ouch!" There was the sound of a young, female voice
swearing from below, followed by the crunching of feet
across the vacant lot and then silence.
Seifer stretched. Quistis gave him a disapproving look
that dissolved reluctantly as he grinned at her.
"Come on. Don't say it didn't piss you off too."
"Maybe."
"You're so damn straight. I just can't figure you out. Half
the time you're normal and you fight like a bitch."
Quistis raised one eyebrow.
"Well. You fight well. Okay? And then you've got this whole
'my work is my life' thing going on."
"My work is not my life." Quistis retorted angrily, and then
shut up, watching Seifer's satisfied smirk and realising that
he'd finally got a rise out of her. She parried.
"As for you, at least I don't have trust issues."
She was guessing, now, but there was something about being
read reliably that just got to Seifer, she knew. He probably
wasn't used to it.
Seifer shivered. "I do not have issues."
"Seifer, you have whole libraries of issues. Volumes.
Compilations. Archives, even."
He looked away. "I'd be offended if I knew what you
meant."
"You're changing the subject. Woods. Trabia. Sorceresses.
Wars. You know damn well what I mean."
"Bullshit."
"Just admit you're Issues Boy, okay." Quistis tried not to
smile and allowed herself to lean into Seifer, slightly.
Guerrilla tactics, in the warfare that was their conversation.
He moved away just for a second and for a miracle, refused
to snipe back.
His voice was angry. "I'm fine. And you should go. It's
getting bloody late." He swung a leg over the sill and
Quistis followed him back into the room.
She hissed. "I worry."
Seifer snapped back "I didn't know you cared." He turned
to move away, a darker shadow in the dusky room, body
language shouting 'go away' so loudly that she didn't
even have to see his face.
It irritated Quistis for no reason. She put a hand on his
shoulder and swung him round without stopping to think
about what she was doing, maybe wanting for once just to
get a reaction out of Seifer that was actually what he was
feeling instead of just 'fuck OFF.'
Later she would think that the night had something to do
with it. The night, and the conversation, and the sun, and
maybe the fact that they'd managed to spend a whole two
days together without slaughtering each other.
The room was slightly lit by a streetlight outside, turning
everything into muted shades of grey. Seifer's faded jeans
stood out best in the dark, followed by his pale hair. His
body was tense.
"I missed you, when I thought you were dead."
She spoke quietly but each word managed to drop like a
bomb in the dingy room.
"You're the only one." Seifer's mouth twisted in an ironic
smile and he grabbed her wrist in one hand, pulling it away
from his shoulder. "You better go."
Quistis scowled.
Don't even try to tell me what to do…
She raised her right hand and captured Seifer's other wrist
neatly as he tried to yank her hand off him. He glared down
at her.
Quistis raised herself on tiptoes so she could look him in the eye.
They stared at each other, faces inches away.
Quistis thought, irrelevantly …and the night started out so well…
Seifer swore. "Let go."
"Make me."
"Don't tempt me." He worked his hand along her arm to
grip her more securely and then tried to wrench his hand
out of her grip. Quistis swayed with the movement but
didn't let go. She wrapped her fingers round Seifer's
wrist, feeling for pressure points.
If I twisted just here…
His skin was warm against her hand. They were standing
so close that she could practically feel his body heat.
Seifer swore, softly and brought his hand in close to his
chest so that her arm almost touched his ragged T shirt.
The tension in the room was changing slowly to something
else more subtle.
Quistis looked at him.
She was suddenly very aware that they were standing only
inches away. The soft sunbleached hair on the back of his
arm tickled her hand.
Seifer took an unsteady breath but didn't say anything. He
was watching her intently, eyes glittering in the dark.
Quistis swallowed.
He let go of her wrist carefully and moved his hand to her
hip. Quistis's free arm moved slowly to his waist. There
was worn denim underneath her fingers and then, as she
moved her hand up a centimetre and under his T shirt, skin.
He lowered his head, carefully, and kissed her hard on the
cheek. Quistis turned her mouth to the kiss, letting her
own hand slide from his arm and travel to his shoulders.
She felt Seifer tense, just once. Quistis swayed and reached
out to the table to steady herself.
They kissed like it was a second duel.
It was something less than the most romantic kiss she'd
ever had, but hell, it beat the last one hands down.
Seifer eventually moved his mouth to her neck, tracing
upwards as Quistis realised she was still on tiptoes and
that her feet were beginning to cramp.
"Miss me?" he said softly into her ear.
Quistis' head rested into the hollow of Seifer's throat, his
chin leaning just on top of her skull, staring at something
she couldn't see. Maybe he had his eyes closed.
She wasn't sure, and couldn't tell, in the dark.
"You wanted me to admit that I care. Fine, I care. Why,
I have no idea, because you're annoying and homicidal
and legally dead…."
"Twice. I have experience at being dead."
"….and I, very clearly, am one sick little biscuit."
"Damn right…" Seifer experimentally moved one hand
down, touching skin where her cotton vest didn't quite join
her shorts. Quistis didn't mind. She snugged her left hand
tightly round his waist, pulling him into her.
Somewhere deep inside her head was the thought that
maybe this wasn't the logical thing to do. It felt right,
despite everything, no doubt about it, but …..
Seifer's train of thought was also running along the same
lines.
Is this going where I think it's going and I really hope it is…
.what if we do, and.. ..what if it's wrong?
And then he'd just have screwed up (literally) any chance of
some kind of meaningful friendship with a person who really
knew what he was and what he'd done, and against the odds,
still liked him.
That was the logical part of his mind, the one on the right side
of the tracks. The wrong half was screaming "Quick! Sex! Sex!
Before she changes her mind!"
Seifer did something he didn't usually do and listened to his
(for want of a better word) conscience.
He said to her "Is this a good idea?" softly, hating himself
and knowing that he was probably going to do himself out
of the first chance of getting laid he'd had in months.
Quistis listened and looked at him almost sadly. "Of course
it's not a good idea."
She ran her fingers over the blond hairs on the back of his
arm, brushing lines of muscle with nails that were just
beginning to grow out. Seifer shivered beneath her fingers.
His hand came to rest on top of hers, not gently, and then
ran up her arm, tracing lightly to her cheekbone.
The silence between them stretched out into one very
long second. Seifer's fingers caught in flyaway strands of
Quistis' hair and she lifted her hand to trace over his fingers,
feeling warmth, roughness, the thin smooth lines of scars
and the slightly crooked bones that came from long healed
fractures. Tentatively she stretched her other hand out to curl
round the back of his neck, pulling him closer until they both
leant forwards at the same time, resulting in an unromantic
clash of noses before her lips found his mouth.
"I can't believe your tongue is down my throat"
"…nor can my tongue… Its luck, I mean….."
It felt good.
Quistis leant back on the table as they gradually became
more horizontal. It creaked ominously, wobbling under
her hands. She didn't blame it-she was feeling somewhat
weak in the knees herself-but really, she had standards.
And then there was the whole issue of splinters.
"Seifer…"
"Mmm?" He made a low sound in his throat, nibbling on her
ear and she arched into his hands with a little needy moan
that surprised them both.
"The table…Hyne…" Her own hands yanked the T-shirt
out of the waistband of his jeans and slid up his back, warm
and tense beneath her fingers, to trace over old forgotten scars.
"Is breaking."
"Bed?" Quietly, into her hair.
"Mattress." Quistis spoke without thinking and then cursed
herself for always having to correct everything. Talk about
killing the mood. But Seifer didn't seem to mind.
Of course, she was pretty sure that at this point he probably
wouldn't care what she said, apart from maybe 'please stop'
, but he had pulled her shirt up and was sliding one hand
down her stomach wearing a kind of absorbed expression
that she'd certainly never seen in any of her lectures.
"Futon." And now the other hand was awkwardly working
its way up the buttons of her shirt, fabric falling away. His
voice was teasing, slightly defensive with something more
complex underneath that she couldn't work out.
"Whatever." She traced the lines of his shoulderblades
under the shirt, feeling muscles tense and relax under her
hands. Seifer made an inarticulate noise into her hair and
pulled back for a second, shrugging his shirt off onto the floor.
By the time he turned back, she'd finished what he had
mostly started, unsnapping and unzipping with mathematical
precision because there was nothing more awkward
than having to watch a guy try to take your bra off. Her
glasses came off last and she placed them carefully on
the table.
Seifer gave her a slightly amused but approving look
and started to say something like, Quistis guessed,
"..couldn't wait?" before she wiped the familiar smirk
off his face with another fierce kiss that moved from
exploratory to passionate in half a second.
His mouth tasted of beer.
Quistis thought irrelevantly that she really should have
brushed her teeth and gasped as his hands definitely went
south for the winter. They stumbled, half walking, half
falling, over to the corner, shedding clothes like they were
going out of fashion.
"Still got your implant?"
"Should…still work.."
The last items of clothing hit the floor about the same
time as they hit the mattress. The logical part of Quistis'
brain seemed to have closed the curtains in disgust. She
didn't mind. Seifer's hands were warm and his body
was heavy against hers, pressing her down into the mattress
as they kissed.
She wrapped her legs around his so he couldn't go anywhere
even if he'd wanted to and lifted her hips to his.
Sooner or later, though it was probably later, Quistis put
her foot through the wall.
It didn't hurt much at the time-to be fair she didn't even
notice it, she had much more pressing things to think about-
but it made one hell of a noise.
Afterwards she heard Seifer swear sleepily as he noticed the
hole. The sheets smelt of sex and sweat and more faintly of
washing powder and cigarettes. They were pale off-white in
the dark and the part nearest to her face had two neat burns in.
She slept and woke, some hours later.
Seifer slept next to her with one arm across his face, refusing
to let his guard down even in his sleep. Despite this, he
somehow managed to look a little younger than he usually
allowed himself.
They were curled into each other on the narrow mattress,
Quistis' hand beneath his head. Pale stubbly hair brushed
her cheek. There wasn't really any other way to sleep that
would allow them both to share the bed.
Quistis lay there in the satisfied early morning way of
someone who had just had good sex and watched her
partner carefully.
The view was attractive, even with the curtains closed.
His skin was two shades of pale gold where the sun had
tanned it, a few shades darker than hers. Morning light
accentuated the contrast, making even the dingy little
room look bright.
If anyone had said, two years ago, that one day she'd be
waking up next to Seifer Almasy she'd have laughed
until she hurt, then kicked the hell out of them.
And yet here she was.
Did that make her stupid now, or had she been wrong then?
Was this going to be some kind of awful mistake?
Either way, she found it hard to regret anything at this
precise moment, lying here and watching the sun come
up through the curtains to make its way up the ceiling
above her head. Despite all, she felt content. Content,
and …safe.
Yeah. Safe as waking up next to a packet of razorblades.
Not that Quistis would ever admit she was feeling insecure.
Not that she couldn't handle pretty much anything by herself.
Her hand chose that precise moment to go to sleep,
unlike the rest of her body.
Quistis wriggled, trying to work her wrist out from beneath
Seifer's head. He needed to shave. Stubble rasped against
her fingers as she inched them down into the pillow.
He shifted, moving slightly. Quistis held her breath. Seifer
sleeping was a rarity. She didn't particularly want to wake him.
They'd have to talk.
He moved again, muttered something inaudibly and
opened his eyes partway. They narrowed again almost
immediately as he hissed something else she couldn't
hear, raised his shoulder off the mattress and caught her
wrist in a hold that stopped just two shades short of painful.
They stared at each other for a second, his face slightly
blurred in Quistis's vision without her spectacles. She
reflexively locked the other hand and wrenched it out
of his grasp.
Seifer tensed, and then relaxed again almost immediately,
eyes sliding shut. He muttered something that might have
been "Sorry", lay back down and pulled her closer.
Quistis ran a curious finger over the tattoo on his shoulders.
A thin scar ran across one wing, the left. She traced
it with her nail, feeling Seifer shiver under her fingers.
"Nnnuh?"
"Why?"
He didn't look at her. "I was a dumb kid. It seemed
like a good thing to do."
"I didn't say I didn't like it." Quistis moved the hand
down under the sheets. Seifer groaned, slid a hand round
her waist and pulled her tight to him, so they were face
to face. Quistis was suddenly aware of how his body fit
against hers. Her brain seemed to be switching off again.
She moved her head to rest in the hollow between his
collarbone and neck, feeling his voice rumble against her
lips as he spoke. It sounded like a purr.
"What do we do now?"
"I think.." She wriggled, trying to place her head in a more
comfortable position. Something was pressing into her shoulder.
"I'm thinking..what the hell is in this pillow?"
Seifer looked puzzled, put one hand under the pillow and
then his expression cleared. He flopped over onto his belly
and pulled out a seven inch hunting knife from beneath the
mattress under Quistis' head. Rolling over, Seifer slid it in
the gap between the wall and his side of the mattress, slightly
up from the hole. Quistis watched him with interest and faint
disbelief.
"You sleep on that?"
"Sure."
Her hair had come down. She automatically smoothed it into
a knot, pulling the two little trails down to frame her face, and
then let it drop. It fell gently around her bare shoulders.
The mental bureaucrat in Quistis' brain chose that very moment
to kick into action and point out sweetly that she was naked
from the waist up.
To be fair, so was Seifer. The sheet covering them both was
too worn and too short and left little to the imagination. More
importantly it lacked the important L shaped configuration well
known to makers of TV commercials and the nicer kind of magazine.
Hyne, it wasn't even cold in the room.
Quistis mentally gagged the bureaucrat, shook away a
slight tinge of embarrassment and placed her hand curiously
on Seifer's stomach, feeling his muscles move beneath
tanned skin. A faint scar ran across his left hip almost
from his shoulder and she traced it down under the sheets.
Seifer moaned and kissed her, hard. Eventually the kisses
moved down and turned into something else that in turn
changed into something seemingly more interesting to
them both.
Some time later Quistis yawned, stretched, used her own
initiative and went to find the shower. She collected her
glasses off the table and her clothes off the floor, wrapping
the sheet around her on the way, to Seifer's protests.
"Heyy….."
Quistis successfully resisted the temptation to apologise
and jump back into bed. "Tough."
"Harsh" He didn't sound angry, or, she realised, particularly
tired.
Despite herself she glanced back, and grinned. "And put some
pants on." exiting though the curtain to a muffled curse.
It wasn't late, though her internal body clock insisted that Quistis
should have been up for an hour and done a six mile run. She
found the tiny shower, set into the wall between the two flats,
noted that there were two connecting doors, carefully locked and
bolted both of them and turned the heat up as high as it would go.
As soon as Quistis' body relaxed her mind switched on and
kicked in with a shrill like a dog whistle.
Hyne.
What are you doing?
She'd just had sex with the kind of guy she'd cheerfully
douse with pepper spray if he approached her in a bar.
And she'd liked it.
If the first thought had rated a high eight on Quistis' scale of
'Seriously, no, I mean really disturbing' facts, the second was a
couple of notches off being a ten.
She rubbed her hands over her eyes and reached blindly for
shampoo or shower gel, or even washing-up liquid. Her questing
palm found one bottle sitting on the shelf above the shower and
she poured it into her hand with a gelatinous squelch, rubbing
the liquid into her scalp. To her surprise it actually smelt nice.
Flowery, even.
Quistis shut down that idea fast, but the smell wouldn't leave her
alone as she sluiced clean water through her hair, hissing as the
shower cycled rapidly through hot, cold and lukewarm before
turning back to scalding.
When the soap had cleared from her eyes she grabbed the
bottle, rinsed the suds from her hands and glanced at the label
in mild bemusement. It was purple, and, yes, flowery. More
specifically, lilac-y.
It took her a couple of minutes to work out that the bathroom,
was, of course, shared with the owner of the car she'd seen
the evening before. Hopefully, the soap was the old woman's.
Hopefully.
Quistis finished showering, turned the water off and stood for
a few seconds in the musty mouldy heat warmth until the
steam cleared enough for her to find a towel.
It was easy enough to locate Seifer's. The bathroom definitely
had a split personality, tiny though it was. She categorised the
details, out of habit.
The bald and off-white towel she was in the process of trying
to wrap round her body was Seifer's, obviously, as was the
razor left on the windowsill. There was also a cake of cracked
white soap in the sink, which seemed to be about it for him.
The left side of the room, on his side of the door, was almost
empty.
Feeling like a voyeur, Quistis took stock of the other items
in
the bathroom as she dressed, trying to avoid soaking her
clothes in the two inches of water left on the floor. Most of
them looked pre-wars, and all of them were flowery. There
was a stub of eyeliner left on the right side of the sink, and
a half-empty packet of Nytol on the right side of the
windowsill. A large and cracked mirror hung over the sink
and divided the two sides.
Quistis stared in it as she tried to smooth her hair back
with her fingers and idly wondered if she could train
Seifer to good behaviour using sex alone.
Maybe not.
She sighed and gave up on her hair, twisting it raggedly
into a bun, cursed, reached for her glasses and re-did the
arrangement. Even wearing her spectacles, her reflection
in the mirror was blurred, and speckled with fly-spots,
the crack dividing her face in two with a jagged silvery
line that reached from her left temple to her chin. Quistis
assessed her appearance. In three words, she would have
said tired, messy and hot.
She squashed happy down inside her head and indignantly
substituted casual for messy.
Right.
Stop wasting time.
Quistis squared her shoulders, picked up the trailing
damp sheet and yanked the door open, stepping out
into Seifer's flat. It seemed larger than before, more
sunlit, and she realised that he'd pulled the curtain
back to hide the hole in the wall.
A dull blush rose in her cheeks as she threw the sheet
onto the mattress. It just as quickly died down. Blushing
was a liability when you were teaching students as
old as you were. She'd spent plenty of time developing
the facial equivalent of Tipp-Ex.
Seifer had his back to her, leaning out of the window
with his elbows resting on the ledge. He was, also,
fully dressed, though barefoot.
Quistis looked down at her own feet, tanned from the
week of sun and trailing damp prints on the horrible
carpet.
He half-turned and flicked what she was sure was a
cigarette onto the tiles. "Finished?"
"Yes."
There was an awkward silence.
Quistis mentally castigated herself for not leaving
sooner. "Sorry about the ..hole."
Seifer pointed to the table. "Don't worry. You can't
make this shithole any worse. Coffee? I'm going to
have a shower."
"Okay." Quistis seated herself at the table and watched
Seifer into the bathroom before she took the first sip
of drink.
It was surprisingly good. Black, strong and bitter, real
heart-attack coffee, the yuppie's version of ordering a
triple rye whisky in a cowboy bar and the engine oil of
Quistis thought processes.
The water switched on.
What was she going to do?
What did she want to do?
Okay. Let's go abut this in a calm and logical manner…
ohHyne-IjusthadsexwithSeiferAlmasyand I'm damned
if I'm going to be just another notch on his bedpost…..
If he had a bedpost.
Which he didn't.
I slept with a guy who doesn't even have a bed.
Quistis downed the dregs of her coffee and rested her
head in her hands.
Ye gods
It wasn't like there hadn't been others, usually older,
always intelligent, with absolute discretion and not
abysmal attractiveness. None of them had been
students of hers and none had lasted long. Most of
them she hadn't missed, and the remainder probably hadn't missed her.
I thought I liked brunettes.
To her knowledge, Seifer, in his tenure at the school,
had slept with just about everything female with two
legs that wasn't a table. Or at least she'd heard rumours.
There were always rumours, in a school.
And Seifer had a permanent attitude problem, the kind
of guy who thought he knew what a woman liked, and
that it was him.
Unfortunately, he was usually right.
If Quistis admitted it to herself she'd never actually
talked to someone who had screwed him, but then
she didn't often associate with those kind of girls.
Instead she listened to the water and made a mental
list for the second time that day.
Cons: Technically a mass-murderer, officially dead
(so possibly necrophilia), amoral, alcoholic, nicotine
addict, possibly mental, always violent. Wanted for
crimes against humanity, unwanted by everyone else
who mattered.
Okay.
Quistis chipped more grains off the fossilised coffee jar
that Seifer had thoughtfully placed on the table within
arms' reach, and made herself another drink.
Pros: Pretty damn cute, if she admitted it to herself.
….but then he knows it, so better make that a con.
Hell, Seifer was a con. As in 'vict.')
A SeeD.
That was definitely a pro.
She thought about that and changed it to ex-SeeD.
The equation didn't really add up.
He was a jerk. He's still a jerk..
The sound of water switching off came from the tiny
bathroom, followed by an angry shout.
"You used the fucking towel."
Quistis rolled her eyes, and shouted back. "Yes. What
was I supposed to use? The flannel? I'm sure the little
old lady's got one you could steal. "
"You must be bloody joking. She keeps them in her flat.
She won't let anything of hers that can't be sterilised near me."
"I wonder why." Quistis said unrepentantly. Her eyes fell
guiltily on the damp sheet, crumpled up on the mattress.
It was messy.
It made her brain itch.
She padded across the room to retrieve it, allowing as
little of her bare feet to touch the carpet as possible.
Smoothing it out, she flung it over the windowsill and
put a couple of the larger books on it to hold it down.
She was sitting at the table finishing off her second cup
of coffee when Seifer came in. He made himself a
mug without saying anything and sat at the table next
to her, commenting dryly "So, what do we do now?"
His voice was slightly defensive.
Quistis glanced over at him, noticing something slightly
different, thought it took her a few seconds to realise
quite what. Her footprints had left dark outlines on the
carpet. Seifer's were dripping.
"Didn't you use a towel?"
Seifer's hands went almost defensively to his hair, which
stuck up, making Quistis smile. He smoothed it down,
ran his hands through it and swore. "It was wet."
There was another awkward silence. Quistis' eyes brushed
past Seifer's chest and fixed onto the carpet.
"I shoul…"
"You…."
They both stopped at the same time. The chair swayed
under Quistis and she shoved a knee against the table to
balance it, touching Seifer's leg with hers. It was damp,
through the jeans. Quistis took a closer look.
He really hadn't bothered to dry off. She'd thought his
clothes looked newer than usual, but it was just that the
water had given the faded colours a new lease of life.
She didn't move her leg away.
Seifer coughed and drank more coffee. When he spoke,
his words were muffled by the mug.
"It's not like I'm asking you to darn my name on your
socks. It doesn't have to be a damn thing."
Quistis gave him a searching look. Seifer Almasy, six
foot two in bare feet, green eyes, blond hair, old scar that
should have healed cleanly and without a trace but that
somehow managed to stick around. Wet.
Very wet.
She took a deep breath and gave up trying to explain
things to herself. Moved her leg closer to his, noting
abstractly the interesting ways wet denim clung.
"Do you want it to be?"
Seifer reached over the table awkwardly and raised his
hands to brush each side of her face cupping her face in
his hands. His eyes were intent on hers. Quistis leaned
across the table towards him and took each of his wrists
in one of her hands, moving the hold to his shoulder and
then to the back of his neck and back to his shoulders
again as he flinched and tried to hide it, badly..
"Hyne, yeah."
This time the kiss tasted like coffee, bittersweet and
addictive as hell.
References.
The 'and then she put her foot through the wall' bit was inspired
by one of Cassandra Claire's short stories, the one with Amsterdam
and Voldemort being killed by a brick.
The bonfire song is 'The Fisherman's Lament' by Great Big Sea,
same for the one about the string ('Yarmouth Town'). The lilac
shampoo came from a fic on ff.net that had scented soap and a high
'that is SO wrong' factor. A good chunk of Seifer inspiration and
the tattoo is from (oh, God) the crossover smutfic 'It Was Late,
And We Were Tired' on Technomancy (mancer.net.) Click on
'nymphomancy' and then on 'stuff you'd show your mother' and
then on 'crossovers'. The site may contain fictional people
having enthusiastic sex: don't say I didn't warn you.
Heh.
Smutty comments.
So yeah. Chapter six is the one with the mad monkey sex which
I know you've all been waiting for (appropriate, huh?). I hope
no one thinks it went too fast, but I thought sixteen chapters of
Government Bloodhounds and five of South Down The Coast
was enough. These things take time. And I really wanted to write
them as a couple for a good chunk of the fic.
Hopefully eyeforks were not needed. Send your two cents to
the usual address and I'll use them to buy something nice.
Reviews:
Amber Tinted(There will be some Squall, but it's mostly Selphie
and Rinoa. Sorry. :D), breaker-one(ta!;D) ghost140( but in rugby,
they wear those little shorts)hells-paradis ( I'm flattered. This one
should be better. I've had more practice), nynaeve77
(well-defined tastes-I'll have to remember that, and try to wear
my anorak with pride), quistis88 (thanks)Renoa (I did, ta. See,
I respond to my reviewers, usually with loud shouts of 'Why, oh
why is the html not working?' and inventive threats which you
don't want to hear. It's a good job computers don't have testicles
is all I can say)
seatbelts (thanks for the birthday wishes, guys.:D). superviolinist
(you took the words right out of my mouth. Tadaaa!) seventhe
(good luck with the job, keep in touch), the finely tuned fiend
( It's okay now. I have no idea why my files keep doing this.
Why only SOME of my files keep doing this. Grrr)
kate (so what the hell, we've already been forever damned….
(Gin Blossoms))