A/N: Almost 10 pages. Yay. I don't care if they're OOC at all, but Amarant – hopefully – is less and Kuja... well, Kuja can never be properly IC so I don't care. BLAAHHH to all of you who do! Besides, if he were IC all the way, he'd never get this far.

((PS, band mentioned in here is a SUPERSECRET band that only a few people might recognize!))

Kuja is too hyper as he disembarks the aircraft, practically exuding energy. Amarant stalks after him, annoyed and a bit worried that he might go trance again and kill everyone.

But no, Kuja is simply looking around the city in recognition, probably remembering things that he had done before he almost died. Really died. He forces back the shivers crawling up his spine.

"And I thought you wouldn't show your face in Treno ever again." Amarant turns and raises an eyebrow behind his hair, looking at Lani in vague annoyance. Kuja comes up to the huge man's side, and she grins, "Who's the girl?"

Amarant snorts, and Kuja makes a strangled noise in his throat. "I'm not a girl!" he exclaims, and pushes his hood back. Lani blinks and then looks at Amarant in confusion.

"I could've sworn you only chased skirts."

Kuja cackles, and if Amarant wasn't so annoyed he would have noticed how familiar the laugh is.

"I'm taking him to Alexandria." Lani knows him better than anyone, and he hopes she understands he wants Kuja gone.

"You're not going like that," the other bounty hunter immediately deadpans, looking at Kuja, who crosses his arms and – oh, yes, Amarant has to turn away before he laughs – pouts.

"I would change if he would let me go somewhere."

"Want me to take him out for a while?" she immediately asks Amarant, who gives her a look that distinctly resembles one of a helpless animal.

"...Whatever."

"Great!" Lani exclaims, suddenly grinning, "I know just who to go to for your hair. Goddamn, Amarant, don't you let people bathe when you're escorting them somewhere?"

"Hn." Amarant turns and stalks off – he needs to relocate the tavern he used to frequent and have a few more drinks. And he's starting to get hungry, anyways. He hears Kuja talking to Lani about something, and then he laughs and they head the opposite direction – most likely going to get money.

Suddenly, he feels his pocket in curiosity, and swears suddenly, turning to look for the two, but they're long gone. "Fucking monkey stole my money," he growls, and turns back to look for the tavern. He has some spare gil in his other pocket, enough for a few drinks and a big meal. He'll get that damned little guy if it's the last thing he does.

Amarant stalks around the circular pathway, taking note that nothing has really changed. Then again, it's only been a few months. The kids are still playing their little card game, Gilgamesh is still wandering around trying to pick a fight with Amarant but being too cowardly... All in all, it's so similar that he's almost surprised to find the tavern under new ownership. He smirks – good, now he won't have to worry about his tab. He enters the bar and immediately feels at home.

He almost forgets Kuja is alive.

Kuja comes into the bar just as Amarant gets his second helping of food. It's been a few hours, but Amarant has always liked taking his time eating.

"Amarant," Kuja says, and the bounty hunter looks up briefly, before choking on his drink.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he asks, because it's a valid question. He's all purples and reds and blacks, with flowing sleeves and lots of netlike material. The boots are loose and black, adorned with red jewels that probably cost a lot of money, and though his legs are bare, one has a strange type of brace made out of black and red leather straps. He still wears a skirt – that was probably a habit he wasn't going to break – that is short in front but drapes down and flows in the back, a deep, rich purple that glows in the light. A really strange silver pendant hangs on a loose belt that serves no purpose but to be gaudy, and his shirt... god, what had possessed him?

He's wearing red straps winding all around his chest, only slightly concealing a netlike, sleeveless shirt. No, no, it has sleeves, but they are connected only loosely with more black straps, and they flow around his arms, a strange mixture of purples that catches in the light. It must all be silk, Amarant realizes in surprise, and it must cost a lot.

His hair is perfect once again – that obnoxious feather like bang sticks out again instead of drooping, and his face is covered in makeup. It's strange – his deep purple eye makeup blended with deep red makes him look more like a man than he did without it.

"Do you like it?" Kuja asks cheerily as Lani comes up beside the ex-homicidal monkey, grinning as easily as she had just spent Amarant's money.

Oh, wait.

"You better not have spent all my money," he growls. Kuja smirks.

"Of course not, sugar daddy. Just most of it." He tosses the considerably smaller purse to Amarant, who makes a very menacing noise as he catches it. Lani hears the noise and excuses herself quickly. As soon as she's gone, Kuja takes out another purse and gives it to Amarant, sitting down across from him. "Why would I spend your money? I just wanted to see if you'd notice. Zidane always has such an easy time stealing... I wanted to try it."

"Don't do it again," Amarant growls, exchanging the purses before settling back in his chair. "Order something, you're already getting weird enough looks," he mutters, before taking up a huge leg of some kind of beast and tearing into it viciously.

Kuja watches him in dull horror, and Amarant makes sure he's extra violent, baring his fangs and ripping the meat off the bone and gnashing his teeth a little more, and he feels a bit of satisfaction in being able to creep Kuja out so easily.

"You're absolutely beastly," the Genome intones flatly, and Amarant grins, licking his lips.

"That's what the girls say just before I bed them," he sneers, taking up the large tankard in one hand – it can wrap easily around it – and drinking deeply. "Have a nice girls night out, by the way?"

"I think you're forgetting exactly who I am," Kuja drawls, signaling a barmaid over and ordering some simple salad or some such.

"I'm talking to a woman, apparently. What's that muck on your face?" Amarant responds easily, before biting into some bread.

"It's called makeup," he answers, "You could do with some."

Amarant chuckles as he chews, and shakes his head, smirking. "That would do wonders for my reputation."

Kuja blinks and then snaps his fingers – dear god, his fingers are manicured and painted red on one hand and purple on the other.

"I nearly forgot. We got something for you," he says, and pulls a tiny little package out of who knows where, waving a hand dismissively when the barmaid puts his salad in front of him. He holds out the package with both hands, and Amarant reluctantly accepts it with one of his own.

He unwraps it under the table, annoyed at the idea of a present – especially from Lani and this crazy man. Obviously it was clothing – it was a soft package – but what would they get him that would be so...?

"...You're fucking kidding, right?"

"What? Of course not!" Kuja exclaims in annoyance, pouting again. "It's very good armor, it's enchanted. You won't be able to burn it or pierce it with a blade, magic is severely weakened against it, and it's actually very beautifully made. You should be glad we thought of you."

He feels the fabric cautiously, not believing that the tiny little shirt could protect him from anything that the man had just said. It was a thin, leather tank top with that same netted material stretched over the front – like a vest with netting.

"You can't honestly expect me to wear this."

Kuja gazes at him, picking at his food idly, and explains, seriously, "It wasn't enchanted when I bought it. I got it for the specific reason that you are traveling with me, and considering my current... state... tends to fluctuate rather drastically, I thought you should have something that would protect you."

Amarant stares at Kuja and realizes that the Genome is actually thinking to protect him. This worries the bounty hunter greatly.

"How much did it cost to get it enchanted?" he asks, because he should probably pay the money back.

"More than you will ever earn," Kuja murmurs, staring at him so that Amarant feels a bit like a mouse caught under a cat's gaze. "For the time you are escorting me to see Zidane, I'd prefer you in one piece. It might not be a shirt you would wear," he adds, a smile coming to his lips, "But it would look very nice on you."

Amarant finishes his food in contemplation. He has been so caught up in the idea of getting rid of Kuja that he forgot that he was the one who first took him on this whole journey. And instead of being fed up with his constantly aggressive behavior, Kuja spends... more than he can earn, just to keep him protected.

He really thought Kuja was still the bad guy.

"We should get some sleep," he finally decides as Kuja finishes his tiny little salad. "We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow." Kuja nods and stands as well, and Amarant gets two keys for two rooms, handing one to Kuja.

"You just wasted a hundred gil," the Genome says, "These rooms have double beds."

"I don't want to sleep in the same room as you." Kuja almost looks hurt and Amarant almost feels guilty. "I don't like sleeping in the same room as other people."

Kuja pretends to understand, and Amarant still feels almost guilty. "I'm not very good with people," the bounty hunter finally mutters, scratching his head and leaning against the door to his room.

"I noticed that," Kuja notes dryly, and he enters his own room, slamming the door easily behind himself.

Amarant shrugs his massive shoulders and ducks into his own room. He prays that the roof will still be there when he awakes.

Amarant wakes up way too late in the morning – so late it's not even the morning anymore – and swears, nearly falling out of bed. The monkey probably decided to sleep in too – probably doesn't really want to see Zidane yet. He doesn't blame him, but what else can he do?

The bounty hunter gets up, rubbing his eyes and heading to the pile of clothes on the floor. He dresses, and stops halfway on putting his old shirt on.

"More than I can earn," he mutters, staring at the thin leather shirt. "Oh, what he hell."

He pulls on the shirt Kuja bought and looks in the mirror as he heads out. He looks huge.

Kuja is sitting downstairs, eating a salad and talking to – oh, shit. He makes a move to head back upstairs but Lani catches him in her eyes.

"Wow," she says as he reluctantly comes forward.

"I told you," Kuja sighs, looking at Amarant with easy eyes, "I know how these things work."

"So I owe you a hundred gil. I'm surprised he put it on of his own free will."

"I'm right here," Amarant grunts, falling easily into one of the small chairs. Lani grins at him, and Kuja flashes a brief smile as well. He feels awkward. "'s too small."

"Of course you'd think that," the Genome laughs, "After wearing those baggy clothes for so long, clothes that fit you must feel tiny."

"He doesn't need tight clothes," Lani grins, "He gets plenty of girls with or without them."

Amarant smirks, and motions to the barmaid. Kuja makes an annoyed noise. "A lot of foolish girls is nothing compared to one smart one." He's picking up a book that's been unnoticed. Amarant orders a lot of meat and bread.

"Point out one smart girl in Treno," Amarant chuckles, and Lani hits him – hard – on the shoulder. "What? You can't take offense to that."

"I'm smarter than you, you great big oaf."

"You're a fool."

Kuja watches the exchange over the top of his book, and the barmaid comes back with the food piled on a large tray. Amarant eats decidedly less viciously – it's too early and he's in a good mood.

Lani and Kuja are talking about something stupid and Amarant is surprised they can get along. Lani is exaggerated and annoying and simple, where Kuja is elegant and slight and too complicated for Amarant to understand. He's like a refined version of Zidane. Zidane gets along with everyone.

Maybe that's why.

"We're going to Alexandria today," Amarant growls when Lani leaves to go talk to a man about a dog. Kuja pouts and Amarant snorts.

"Must we? I don't..." Kuja sighs, and leans in, looking at the bounty hunter with the same serious look as last night. "I don't want to see Zidane in Alexandria."

"Then where do you want to see him?"

"Preferably? In pictures, while I'm on the other side of Gaia." The bounty hunter leans against the wall of the Armory, looking at Kuja in annoyance. "Don't get me wrong – I want to talk to him, want to see him, but I... How long has it been?"

"A few months."

"It feels like years." The Genome bites his lip. Amarant looks away. "I don't want to lose control like-"

"You still havin' trouble?" There's a bad feeling in his stomach.

"It's harder to control it at the moment, or last night. Can't we take more time? He certainly hasn't gotten that letter yet, and I don't want a repeat of my last visit to Alexandria." Despite calm words and cool facial expressions, the bad feeling grows and Amarant can see Kuja's got it too.

"...Whatever. Fine," he clarifies, "We can stay here for a while. You can get back into the swing of..."

"Living?"

"Yeah."

Kuja doesn't look uncomfortable with the fact that he has died. Amarant wonders why – and wonders for the first time how he could have been revived. Hadn't Zidane said something about the dirt being soft enough for...?

Oh.

He makes a note to be a little easier on Kuja for now.

Amarant stalks the streets, hands in his pockets, watching people skirt around him nervously. He regrets nothing – getting up and leaving Lani and Kuja without a word is the best thing he's done all day. The two were getting too annoying. Shopping, plays, social gatherings – it's enough to make his head hurt.

So they won't be going to Alexandria now. Amarant wonders why he's playing babysitter to Kuja, but then remembers that the monkey can blow up the planet and has little control over himself. He sighs, and looks at the sky – it's darker now and he should probably be getting back. He's not tired but he's worried that Lani might get too involved in what's going on, and then he'd never be rid of her.

He reaches the inn in good time, and walks in, expecting to see Kuja and Lani blathering on about stupid things.

Kuja and Lani are not there.

He goes to the bar and leans over, looking for a barman or someone who has knowledge of the patrons here.

"Can I help you?"

The tiny little barmaid from earlier is coming up to him, and Amarant flashes her a feral grin. She giggles in a nervous, particularly cute fashion. "Y'know where those two girls here earlier went?"

"Oh," the girl giggles again, "You mean Mr. Kuja and Miss Lani?"

"Hah, mister, huh?" He crosses his arms, "They let you know where they'd be?"

"No, but I think I overheard..." Meaning she eavesdropped, "That they were going to the warehouses."

Amarant furrows his eyebrows and frowns. "She took Kuja to the warehouses?"

"That's what I thought, at first," the girl says, suddenly getting bolder, "He was so rich looking, I thought it was... But then Miss Lani took him upstairs and when they came back..."

"Didn't look so rich?" The girl nods, and he thanks her gruffly, before heading out. She's cute, but she's so tiny.

Amarant makes his way around the circular town, heading directly for the warehouses. Calling them warehouses is like calling Treno the City of Nobles – it worked on paper and probably applied once upon a time, but now it holds no meaning. They used to house new shipments of potions, ore, and weapons, but since the city was overrun with thieves, they've become more of a meeting spot for lowlifes. And Kuja, anywhere near cutthroats and pickpockets? What was Lani thinking?

He opens the doors and is met with loud, raucous music. He remembers coming here every so often with Lani to scope out the newest bounties and newest bounty hunters, and a few prospective bedmates. He can hardly see with the smoke in the air, and it smells like alcohol and galenas smoke.

The song is jumpy and it's meant only for dancing, and that's what most everyone is doing – spinning and jumping and looking like absolute fools.

He sees Kuja dancing with Lani and stops all movement.

The monkey is wearing a black leather vest and strange white pants tucked into high black boots. His hair is tied back into a braid and the only makeup he's wearing is coal smeared around his eyes – something popular with a lot of the lower class girls nowadays. The guy knows how to dance, even though this is probably the least regal and noble music ever, with two girls blathering on about dancing like some prostitute they know. Kuja spins Lani and they're laughing. He looks more like a guy than ever, and Amarant dares to think that the lower class clothing suits him better. Maybe that's just because he's Zidane's brother.

Gilgamesh bumps into him but he's so high he doesn't even recognize The Flaming Amarant and simply laughs, moving on to talk to some pretty girl he has no chance with – no matter how many arms he has.

The song ends to uproarious laughter and applause, and the girls are laughing and chattering like monkeys. Lani suddenly notices him and waves, pulling Kuja along with her.

"Amarant!" she laughs, "I didn't think you'd show up here."

"Are you stupid?" the bounty hunter growls, "Kuja's too high class for this crap."

"I am not," Kuja complains, crossing his arms and pouting.

"You don't give this guy enough credit." Lani suddenly catches sight of someone over to the left of Amarant and leers. "You can take him out of here if he lets you. I have to go talk to someone."

She walks away, swinging her hips in a way that should be illegal, heading towards a hapless, foppish pick pocket.

"We're going," Amarant grunts, and starts for the door, but Kuja grabs his wrist, grinning.

"No, we're not. This is fun, I like it. Come on, Amarant, let's stay!"

He wishes he wouldn't talk like a girl, and that he wouldn't roll the 'r' in his name so much.

"You're a fool."

"Perhaps, but I'd rather be a merry fool than a miserable genius. Now come on, I want you to buy me the most alcoholic drink here and make sure I drink it all."

Amarant feels stupid in his stupid shirt, but girls are ogling him and Kuja is pleading for just one drink – and hell, has Amarant ever turned down the chance for a drink?

"...Fine," he grumbles, "Just one." Kuja grins and drags him through the crowd of people to the makeshift bar where the alcohol is being 'sold' unless you have really big fists.

Amarant has the largest fists in Treno, so his drinks are free. And one drink for Kuja is two for Amarant, and then Kuja has another, so he has two more, and then there's another one for Kuja so that makes two more for him, what does it make? Oh, about ten for him and too much for Kuja.

The girls on stage have been getting stranger and stranger and now they're starting up a very happy song – probably Cleyran but maybe it's Burmecian... It's about two people who can't dance dancing. Completely pointless, and not at all entertaining.

"Dance with me!" Kuja laughs, and Amarant realizes he's probably pretty drunk right now.

Not saying Amarant himself isn't, but he's had more than ten drinks and come out alive.

"I'm not dancing," Amarant mutters, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Kuja pouts again, more exaggerated now that he's drunk enough to not care.

"Dance with me!" he demands, sounding like a child.

"I don't dance," he growls, looking at the flickering lanterns all over, giving the floor a glow that seems rather ethereal.

"Oh, yes you do. Come on, let's go be merry damned fools!"

"You're off your mind."

Kuja giggles, reaffirming Amarant's suspicions. "I told you I wanted the most alcoholic drink here and you gave it to me! What did you expect? I'm so small!" He's laughing openly now, and he suddenly reaches over and dislodges Amarant's crossed arms, grabbing his hands and pulling towards the floor. "Hurry, the song might end and then we'll have to drink until the next good one plays!"

Amarant feels his feet moving before he can remind them exactly what they're doing to his reputation, but no one is paying him attention. Most of them are drunk or high, and the only one with any sense about her is Lani, and she's flirting viciously with two men at once.

Kuja has successfully dragged Amarant out to the floor and is now swaying a little, positioning his hands. "Oh, come on, can't you dance at all?"

"I don't dance."

Kuja pouts, and then pushes moves onto Amarant, who has to follow if he doesn't want to trip up on Kuja and fall flat on his face. Kuja laughs and suddenly they're dancing – holy hell, Amarant realizes, I'm dancing with Kuja.

The song is winding down, but suddenly the girls pick back up and burst into another song, and Amarant knows the beat, even if the song is in a different language. He suddenly realizes with only mild trepidation that he's the one leading all of a sudden. Kuja is laughing and even he knows the song, but he knows the words in the language and he's mouthing them, trying to keep up with the rest of the crowd.

Kuja spins and Amarant catches, and Kuja's hands are on his hips and his are on Kuja's and they sway to the song, fast and easy, and it keeps going through Amarant's mind in little bits – dancing with Kuja, followed by Kuja was dead, followed by never drinking again. The last thought is a dirty lie but that's okay, he's lied about it before.

He hears something and realizes in slight annoyance that he's laughing at Kuja, who's doing some kind of drunken dance against him. The song slows; Kuja slips, and it's only Amarant's instincts that keep him from falling to the ground right at the last note of the song.

"Perfect timing to fall, wouldn't you say?" Kuja asks, grinning lopsidedly. Amarant flushes, and they're slowly released from the floor and to the outer edges, where people sit in corners sharing pipes. "That was fun," the Genome exclaims, falling against Amarant, "But now I don't think I'm standing."

Amarant chuckles against his will. "You're not."

"I've never had this much to drink before," Kuja confesses, "I like trying to not make an ass of myself."

"Fine job," Amarant agrees, "Ready to go?"

"Should we say goodbye to Lani?"

Amarant looks and sees her dancing with the nicer looking of the two guys from before. "I think she's busy."

Kuja giggles rather stupidly at Lani before grabbing Amarant's hand. "Okay, I'll go now."

"Finally," Amarant mumbles, and he leads Kuja through the crowd to the door, nervously aware of how much smaller Kuja's hand is compared to his own. He's too much of a girl for his own good, Amarant decides, and he's not going to keep acting like he is. Maybe if he doesn't, Lani will stop, and the guy will act a little more like he should.

They're walking around the card arena, and Kuja is looking at everything closer than usual. "You had fun, right?" he asks, suddenly, and Amarant looks over his shoulder at the Genome, who he hasn't let go of.

"...Mn." Kuja grins and must know what that means, when suddenly he frowns and stops. Amarant, consequently, stops as well. "What?"

"I'm not going up those steps," Kuja groans, pointing to the long staircase up to the next ring, where the inn is. "Can't we sit down here for a little bit?"

"You're that drunk?"

"I just danced with you, didn't I?"

"That hurts," Amarant drawls, sitting down on the lawn. Kuja flops down next to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he replies honestly. Amarant chuckles.

"I was being sarcastic."

"I'm drunk, do you think I can tell?"

Amarant can, but then again he's bigger and has a better tolerance for Treno liquor.

They sit in silence for a while, and Amarant stares at the stars. They've probably fucked him over, but he doesn't really care at the moment.

Suddenly, hands are entangled in his hair, and he blinks, looking at Kuja in confusion. The Genome's eyes are narrowed in concentration.

"I don't like knotty hair."

"My hair's supposed t' be knotted."

"Yes, but I like your hair. Do you mind?"

Amarant doesn't. It's not intrusive to him, not when he's already danced with the monkey. He shakes his head and Kuja laughs softly – not like the laugh on Terra but not like the laugh from two nights ago, when he first ran into him... it's definitely better than both.

Kuja tugs on his hair a little he leans to the side, before laying down like Kuja's signaling for him to. Kuja's chest is rising and falling, and he can hear his breath – he's not a zombie, then. That's good. He feels the Genome's hands work through his hair and he makes a small noise before he realizes what he's doing and stops the sound before it can actually become the purr it wants to be.

He's comfortable for the first time in a long while. It's a combination of alcohol and Kuja's hands, and he can feel himself dozing off, hoping that Zidane never gets his letter...

In Soviet Russia, Fanfic Reviews You!