He's surprised to see her standing at the dock when the hydrofoil hatch opens. Zell's chattering about how boring the mission in Dollet was, but Rinoa's only half listening. She only has eyes for the man coming down the ramp in full SeeD dress uniform. It was only some formal dinner in need of security, but he'd been specifically requested and paid extra. But she can tell that it was a long few days without her.
She feels the same.
Rinoa takes his hand first when they meet, and he makes a face as she grabs his duffel bag and hoists it herself. Zell can already tell he's a third wheel, so he stays behind with the hydrofoil, conducting the docking check-offs with the boat's pilot and the other SeeDs.
"Welcome home, Commander," she says, holding Squall around the waist with one hand and his bag with the other. His arm's around her shoulder while he carries Lionheart's case in his free hand. "Dollet treat you well?"
"That's classified."
"Mm, I see," she responds dutifully as they begin their trip up the inclined path from the Balamb docks to the town proper. "It'd be rude to take the car without waiting for Zell."
He says nothing, merely redirecting them off the path and through the double wooden doors of the Balamb Hotel. Squall Leonhart, off plan already? They make it to the counter, and Rinoa's fit to bursting with nervous energy. Sunshine is streaming through the gorgeous, colorful skylight, and a cool breeze wafts in from the piers just downwind of the hotel. Squall takes the duffel bag away from her, retrieving his wallet. Whoever designed the SeeD dress uniform hadn't thought pockets were necessary.
Outwardly, Squall is cool and calm as always as he requests a room for them. The inn keeper doesn't raise an eyebrow, merely running Squall's credit card through and having him sign in. It takes moments, but it's an eternity for Rinoa. The inn keeper slides a key card across the counter, reminding them that there will be a fish fry that evening if they wish to dine. Squall thanks him, handing her the key card.
They make it from the lobby to their door, outwardly composed and ideal hotel guests. But the second after the key card's opened the door and Squall's luggage is haphazardly tossed aside, he's got her pinned against the door. "You were going to be in the car."
"I thought it would be nice if your first sight off the boat was me," she replies, working on the annoying collar and chain of the stiff uniform.
"Good idea," he whispers before claiming her lips. She's desperately trying to strip him from his uniform, fingers fumbling with the belt and strap as he tries to get his boots off. Rinoa can't help laughing at the sight of them, but Squall just wants to touch her. "Let go," he says, nipping her bottom lip with her teeth. "You're going to break the buckle."
Her sun dress is far simpler, and she pulls it up and over her head, dropping it with little fanfare at her feet. Squall's eyes darken, and he lunges for her, depositing her on the bed roughly. They barely manage to get his trousers off, and Rinoa can feel light pouring through the windows, kissing her skin with warmth like a shower of Curaga.
"Who designed these things? They're such a pain," she asks later, poking his uniform jacket. He hadn't taken it off, he'd been in such a hurry. He's on his back, eyes closed, and he sighs. Squall language for "I don't care, stop talking."
She runs her finger along the yellow trim that edges the jacket. "Obviously someone who's never had sex before."
He snorts at that, grasping her fingers and shoving them away from the jacket lest she damage it. Rinoa smiles and returns her hand to him, stroking the bare skin of his stomach instead. There's something about a man in a SeeD uniform, but she much prefers a man without.