Miss Balamb Garden

Chapter Four | Dance Monkey Dance

"Fairy godmother?" Quistis looked thoroughly confused. "Who?"

"You!"

"Me?" Bemused, she sat down to join them, sighing in relief as she did so and stretching her legs out in front of her. "What? What are you even talking about?"

"Seifer needs a female mentor for the pageant," chirruped Selphie by way of explanation. "Squall has Rin, Raijin has Fujin. Seifer needs someone. You're the perfect candidate."

Quistis tilted her head to one side, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "This is a joke, right?"

Selphie, Rinoa and Irvine proceeded to list out the reasons why she was actually an eligible and excellent choice. She continued to stare at them in consternation, shaking her head. Occasionally she would glance at Seifer as if to seek confirmation that they were pulling her leg, but Seifer looked away. He found himself disgruntled all of a sudden.

And the more she shot down their reasons, the moodier he became.

For no bloody reason.

Seifer grimaced and took another chug of his drink.

"He's not even doing it," protested Quistis, looking over at him again uncertainly. "…Is he?"

"He said he is!" Selphie insisted. "Actually, he shouted it. I think the whole corridor heard him."

Quistis' eyes widened at this revelation. "You are?" she asked Seifer incredulously.

He just grunted.

"You gotta help him, Quisty!"

The blonde instructor opened and closed her mouth twice, apparently at a loss as to what to say. Everyone was looking at her eagerly, except for Seifer who was pretending not to listen although he very much was. Even Squall was waiting for her response.

Finally, Quistis said, "This is ridiculous. I can't be Seifer's - fairy godmother." She said the word with unease. "I'm sure there's someone else better for him. How about Enid from the library, Zell?"

"No frickin' way."

Selphie and Rinoa looked rather put out. "But - " began the spunky brunette, eyes pleadingly fixed on Quistis.

"Forget about it," cut in Squall, and this unexpected interjection from him was the unofficial full stop to the conversation. Quistis sent him a grateful look and he just shrugged. If anyone knew the agony of being peer-pressured into doing something, it would be Squall.

The subject was dropped after this, although it didn't seem like Selphie was quite ready to forget the matter just yet. Quistis chanced another glance at Seifer, wondering why he'd been so quiet during all this (surely he didn't want her to be his assistant, either?) and expected a smirk or some sort of smart-alec remark, but he was still staring broodingly over the rim of his glass.

What's the matter with him? Oh… is he still annoyed about the pageant?

That must be it.

Why did he agree to do it then?

There was a bit of an uneasy silence over the group now, thankfully interrupted by the end of the techno music and replaced by the more familiar Waltz For The Moon. Rinoa lit up instantly, pulling a reluctant Squall with her to the dance floor.

They all watched the couples finish their waltz (including Raijin and Fujin, the former who was surprisingly elegant) before another upbeat number started to play, effectively breaking up the partners. There was an outburst of cheering as a group of six male SeeDs, some of them mere graduates, took centre stage. A circle formed around them as they began to pump out an obviously choreographed routine, featuring a mixture of hip hop, funk and breakdance moves.

Quistis watched them along with everyone else, rather impressed against her instructor-rigidity. When do students find so much time to do these things? Maybe that's why they've been flunking tests recently.

…But these are the ones who've just passed the exam.

"Say, I reckon we could give 'em a run for their money," said Irvine sagely, and he inclined his head over to the guys. "Don'tcha reckon?"

Seifer snorted, "Don't get any ideas." Then, after a pause, "But hell yeah."

"Way better," agreed Zell.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Quistis, brow furrowed as she looked at them.

"We learnt a dance," Irvine answered with flourish. "The four of us, including our fearless leader over there." He flicked his head to where Rinoa and Squall were standing by the dance floor, watching the impromptu performance.

Stunned silence greeted the end of his words.

"You did?" Selphie practically gasped out. "You - Seifer - Zelly - Squall? How on earth did you get him to do that?"

"I won a hand of poker. It was my winnings."

"What - what did you learn?" spluttered Selphie.

"We'll show you," said Irvine peaceably, standing to his feet and beckoning to Zell and Seifer who didn't look entirely willing.

"This was meant to stay in the woodwork room," Seifer grumbled, but to everyone's amazement he heaved himself up and followed Irvine and Zell onto the dance floor.

"There's no way Squall is going to dance," murmured Quistis, still stunned as she watched Irvine turn on the charm at the sound desk, obviously requesting a song. "No way… oh my."

Both her and Selphie gaped as Squall, looking as if he very much wanted to become part of the architecture, dragged his feet to join the others. Rinoa came sprinting back to the girls, her face aglow with delight.

"Sel!" she gasped, "Where - is - your - camera?"

"How does Irvine get them to do all this?" wondered Quistis aloud, half-impressed, half-aghast. "He has a strange influence to get Seifer and Squall involved…"

"Probably the same way Zell got them to wear those shirts."

"Let's have a closer look, c'mon!" Selphie grabbed both girls' arms and pulled them with her.

The performance had finished to generous applause from the audience, and as the young SeeDs bowed and disappeared back into the crowd, Irvine led the way onto the dance floor. Quistis noted with amusement that he was holding onto Squall's elbow. Probably to make sure he doesn't bolt.

Squall and Zell stood at the front with the taller two behind them, and a shrill cheer rose from the crowd as they realised they were about to be gifted with another performance. Quistis had to smother a laugh at how different they all looked; Irvine grinning and winking at the crowd; Zell waving enthusiastically; Squall seemingly stoic and indifferent although she could tell he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole; Seifer stood with that careless, casual grace of his as if nothing mattered.

Some girls were almost beside themselves with excitement. Selphie's camera clicked incessantly. Quistis had to admit they made a very impressive quartet on the dance floor, even with their matching Chocobo shirts.

And then a catchy beat blared around the room, and as Squall and Zell broke into the first move, Rinoa's jaw dropped and she began to laugh hysterically. Quistis was having trouble keeping a straight face too. The audience went wild.

The dance was silly and exaggerated, reminding her of those multiple-member girl dance pop groups that used to be popular, but the boys were actually quite good, particularly Irvine and surprisingly Seifer. Squall would probably have been better if he didn't look like he was about to go into imminent cardiac arrest. Then Zell and Seifer randomly interlaced the routine with some power breakdancing moves that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Selphie whooped, "BOOYAKA!" when the boys both leapt out of their windmills and fist bumped each other, and Quistis had to clap along with everyone else while laughing in sheer disbelief. Seifer looked over to her in that moment and once again their eyes met across the hall. His mouth turned up into that familiar cocky grin, and she had to smile back.

When it was over the response was uproarious, though nobody cheered quite as loudly as Selphie and Rinoa. The crowd dissolved as everyone rushed back onto the dance floor. The ball had certainly reached its more unfettered stage; ties were loosened, uniform shirts were unbuttoned and dancing became sloppier as the formalities disintegrated.

Which meant it was time for line dancing. Always a crowd favourite.

Quistis found herself swept away into the circle but she didn't mind this part of the night. She just had to make sure she evaded any partners who were too keen on her. The first two were polite and pleasant enough, and then it was Zell who'd clearly downed a few more drinks in the last fifteen minutes and wasn't as coordinated as usual, and then Fujin because people were getting mixed up and she ended up in the boys' circle.

"FAREWELL," was her affable greeting as she twirled herself on at the end of the sequence.

Quistis smiled and waved, taking a moment to sweep back her bangs (she was starting to get ungracefully sweaty) before her next partner arrived.

"Hello, instructor."

Seifer stood before her, the air of confidence and smugness all around him as usual. She hadn't noticed he'd be next in line - had he come out of nowhere? His brow was also glistening with sweat, but he made it look good. Of course. Then Quistis' eyes fell to the Chocobo shirt and she burst into laughter again.

"I'm sorry," she said, putting a hand over her mouth. "That shirt…"

His smug grin just widened and as the music cued them in, he bowed and she curtsied, and she took his proffered hand. They began to step and kick in time with the country beat.

"It's an excellent ice breaker," he said. "All the girls have asked where it's from."

"Is that why you're wearing it?"

"Nope. I don't need a loud ass shirt to attract attention."

Her mouth twitched, "I believe you." Seifer moved her so that she was standing both beside and slightly in front of him, holding her hands on either side of her in the travelling cha cha move. He didn't miss a beat and Quistis was quite surprised.

"You're not a bad dancer, Seifer," she commented lightly.

"You'll find there's not much I ain't good at, instructor." This declared with that self-assured smirk, and she was glad to see him in better spirits. Irvine really did do wonders with the brooding sides of Seifer and Squall. Who would've thought.

"How long did it take you guys to learn that dance?"

"Four sessions. Half an hour, whenever we were done with whatever we were doin' that day. Are you impressed?"

"Quite. More so that Squall got involved too."

"Hey, it's a matter of code. You don't mess with the poker winner."

They danced for a few more seconds with great skill (because she also had to excel in everything Garden threw at her) until Seifer moved her back into place in front of him, facing each other. Quistis was thoughtful, reflecting back on the conversation earlier that evening.

"You don't have to do it, you know," she said pensively.

"Huh?"

"The pageant," she continued, still in that quiet voice, and his jaw tightened reflexively. "I know you don't want to, and I know everyone expects you to, but you don't have to… do what everyone wants you to."

Seifer's expression was wooden. "I know that," he said stiffly.

Quistis was puzzled. "Then why did you look so annoyed before?"

His piercing green eyes met hers, causing a queer tremor to shoot through her body, making her aware that his large hands were wrapped around hers. "You really not gonna help me out?" he asked her suddenly.

She was even more confused now. "Is that what it is? You actually want me to?"

Seifer paused here, spinning her around in time with the music. It was time to move on (the weedy kid next to him looked all too keen to receive Quistis), but as she released his hand he tightened his hold on her and stepped them both out of the circle.

"Nope, I'm keeping her a bit longer if you don't mind. Move along now," he told the kid, jerking his head to the girl waiting beside them.

"And if I do mind?" the kid appeared to draw up every ounce of his courage to glare up at Seifer.

"Get," Seifer said shortly, giving the kid a careless shove.

"Ack!"

"Yeah, I guess I want you to," Seifer continued with an offhand shrug as if there had been no interruption, ignoring Quistis' rebuking look. "I mean, who else is gonna do it?"

Was it just his imagination, or did her face fall a little? "So I'm the last resort," she said flatly.

Now it was Seifer's turn to frown at her. What's up her ass?

"I'm too busy, Seifer," Quistis said loftily. "I don't have time to be - finding wigs for you and shaving your legs. I'm sure there's plenty of girls here who'll enjoy doing that for you."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. He hadn't considered that part of the procedure.

"I don't just trust anyone with my leg hairs, Trepe."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm very flattered."

He exhaled through his teeth. "So it's a no then."

"It's a no."

"But it's for the orphanage."

Hyne, listen to yourself. You're sounding just like everyone else.

"I will be supporting in several other ways," said Quistis haughtily. There it is. That uptight snobby attitude. "Being your 'fairy godmother' just won't be one of them."

"You're already an instructor," countered Seifer. "You're halfway there."

"I teach things that actually matter," she said tartly.

"You know what," Seifer snapped, suddenly irate, and he dropped his hold on her so that their dance came to an abrupt stop. "I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. It's not like I give a damn. This whole thing's stupid, you can tell pixie girl to find someone else to be a contestant."

Bewilderment crossed Quistis' face at his hostility and she frowned. "Hey - "

"I'm outta here," he spat.

"Seifer, wait - "

The merry line dancing music continued around them as he stalked off the dance floor. His earlier resentment and annoyance had returned with an abrupt vengeance, and he found himself pissed about everything. Seifer reached the side exit of the ballroom and was walking away - for some fresh air, to get away from the music, to cut something in half, whatever.

He heard her footsteps hurrying after him, (and he had a sudden fleeting thought that this was not the first time she was chasing him), and abruptly Seifer turned back around to face her.

"Is the idea of spending time with me that repulsive to you?" he demanded, staring right into her blue eyes.

Quistis froze mid-step, taken-aback. "What?"

He just glared at her, and her gaze softened in understanding.

"Seifer… that's not it."

He shrugged, jaw flexing, obviously not buying it. Hyne. Why do I even care.

"I don't… I don't want to do it because I'm not… because I'm not a girl."

Seifer stared at her.

There was a protracted holycrapshe'sactuallyadude second in which his mind rapidly span through a series of events, pinpointing the exact moments in which Quistis-the-boy began to identify as a female, and all the times he'd ever suspected as much with her fastidious strength and accuracy with that whip, until reason caught up with him.

"What?"

"Girly. I'm not girly," elaborated Quistis. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest as if to defend herself against any humiliation that would be imminently hurled her way.

He was utterly bewildered. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Everything!" she burst out, composure slipping away like the strand of hair that was escaping her bun. "I'm not - not good at dressing up or doing my nails or - or being pretty and soft."

Seifer was actually struck speechless for a second.

"You do know you have a bloody fan club, Trepe," he finally said.

Quistis' arms were still firmly crossed. "What has that got to do with anything?" she echoed him from before.

"Everything. Pretty sure if this Miss Balamb Garden was a real thing and not just an unfortunate concoction of pixie girl's mind, you'd be the OG."

She bit her lip and muttered, "You're flattering me."

Seifer shrugged his shoulders. "Believe what you will. Can't help it if you can't see the forest for the trees."

This time he could've sworn she almost smiled. Quistis unfolded her arms and asked uncertainly, "So you actually want my help?"

Like I said the previous five times. "Mm."

"You think I can… help you? I don't promise I know a lot… I don't even know what they're judging on, I'll probably be just as clueless as you - "

"Hey, as long as you show me how to strap in the lady bubbles, you've got all the wisdom I need, instructor."

"The what?" Quistis was nonplussed.

"You know…" He gestured at his own chest with an impish grin.

"Oh gosh, Seifer. Really? Lady bubbles?" A chuckle escaped her mouth and he was heartened by this.

"So you're in," he said.

"Hmm." She still seemed unsure, but at least she didn't have that stuffy, prissy look anymore. That look drove him nuts.

Seifer held out his hand. "Shake on it."

Quistis eyed him, mouth pressed together, though her cheek was uplifted. "Since when was it decided that I was in?"

"Since you laughed." He nodded his head expectantly down at his outstretched arm. He wasn't leaving until she agreed.

Quistis' eyes sparkled as she finally took his hand and shook it. "As long as you don't refer to them as lady bubbles again."

So Quistis Trepe was used to teaching and instructing. Mentoring and guiding. Encouraging and rebuking.

She was even accustomed to teaching Garden's most difficult student, and finally helping him pass the forsaken test he'd failed numerous times. Helping him claw his way back from the depths of a place she'd been unsure he'd ever return from.

But mentoring Seifer Almasy to win a beauty pageant? As a woman? She wasn't so confident about that.

Freshly showered after her morning workout, with her hair neatly twisted and her make up applied, Quistis entered the cafeteria with her laptop in arm. The tables were near-empty as it was still early, and she was about to make a beeline for the hot water station when she did a double take.

A head of blonde hair was lying on a table near the plants. Quistis approached with caution.

"Seifer? You're already here?" she called out, partly because she couldn't quite believe it was him and partly because approaching him when he wasn't looking was akin to poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

He did not lift his head. "Mmrgh."

She hid a smile as she put down her laptop. "I appreciate you coming early. Let me get you something to drink."

Quistis returned with two cups and set it down on the table where Seifer finally raised his head. He appeared barely awake and took the cup to give it a sniff. He grimaced.

"…Is this tea?" he asked dubiously.

Quistis sat down primly and took a sip from her own cup. "I don't drink coffee," came her demure reply. Seifer groaned and dropped his head back down into his arms.

As Selphie had announced at the ball, tickets for the pageant were already selling quickly, but a week after the SeeD ball, the topic was inescapable. Students were excitedly chatting about it in the hallways between classes, exchanging information that they knew - some true, some rumours - or speculating what they thought the different categories would entail. Seifer even overheard a few senior instructors discuss what they'd seen in their own viewings of Miss Universe and debate how Selphie and her 'board' would re-appropriate things for the male contestants.

There would officially be four contestants vying for the title of Miss Balamb Garden: Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy, Raijin Wallace and Nida Turnell. Nida who? Personally Seifer thought the guy was as interesting as white paint, but he did respect the dude's piloting skills and undeterred nature despite being so… average.

What Seifer found much more interesting and nauseating was that Xu would be Nida's mentor.

On how to be a lady.

Talk about the blind leading the blind.

And as opposed he had been initially to the whole thing, Seifer was starting to feel that old competitive streak in him rear its head, especially the more everyone else around him talked about it. He thought they'd be laughed at, ridiculed, talked about in whispers behind their backs, but to his surprise everyone was supportive and enthusiastic. Almost… as if they admired them. Randoms had even begun smiling at him in the corridors when he walked past.

There were just over two months until the pageant, and preparations had formally begun. It would be a serious ordeal. There was a great deal of secrecy and competition between the contestants, and Seifer barely saw Raijin and Fujin anymore even though they shared the same damn common area. In fact, one of the longest conversations he'd had with them in the last week was when he'd come back to their room half-asleep and unceremoniously tripped over an enormous package outside the door. The resulting crash and swearing made them both appear at the entrance where Raijin rejoiced at the delivery of his new beach cabana. "Perfect for slow fishin' days, ya know," he explained enthusiastically as he did a trial set up right in the middle of their common room. "See? One person set up. Easy as. Shade for everyone!"

Seifer was kind of impressed, actually. But that was it in terms of contact with Raijin in the past week and the same thing could be said for Rinoa and Squall, noticeably more absent at meal times.

Right after their agreement of partnership, Quistis and Seifer tried to find a regular time they could have their pageant sessions. This proved more difficult than he anticipated. He had a carefree, whatever-comes-up-I'll-go-to attitude with no real sense of routine or regularity.

Quistis, on the other hand, operated on an extremely regimented and packed schedule. When she asked him what time he was free to start their sessions, his response was, "I dunno… after I eat dinner. Whenever."

"What time is that?" she asked patiently.

"Whenever I'm done eating."

"But what time?"

"Hell, I don't know. Could be 5PM. 7PM. 9PM. Whenever I feel like I'm done eatin'."

"I can't do 9PM."

"Tonight?"

"All nights."

"Why? You asleep or somethin'?"

"…Yes. I sleep at 8:30."

"You what? Even on weekends? What are you, a grandma?"

"No."

"What time do you wake up?"

"0500 hours."

"What?" Seifer yelped, "What the heck do you do all morning?"

"A lot," replied Quistis curtly. "But back to the topic at hand… hmmm." She looked intently down at a piece of paper with coloured boxes and black lines.

"What is that?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"My weekly schedule."

"You have one of those? Geez. Let me see it." Seifer plucked up the piece of paper and examined it closely. "Holy crap, you even write down when you shower!"

Quistis exhaled. "Yes."

"Can I get a copy of this? I could probably sell these for 500 gil apiece."

"Certainly not."

"What is WHL on Thursday nights?" Seifer was still scrutinising her timetable. It was fun seeing how the mysterious robot Quistis Trepe lived her life, down to the minute.

"…World Hockey League."

He looked up at her, eyes crinkled suspiciously. "You watch ice hockey," he said in a tone that clearly indicated his doubt.

"Mmmhmm."

"I don't believe you. What's your team?"

"Trabian Toramas," she said promptly.

"The Elnoyles are leading the league right now."

"East Galbadian Elnoyles only have one good player - Derek Cressel," she replied loftily. "The rest are just agitators. The Toramas have twelve excellent players with actual skill. I am confident they'll come out on top."

Seifer's eyebrows contracted in surprise and Quistis gave him that snarky little look he'd only seen once before when she'd wished him luck before that stupid SeeD exam. He had to admit he was pretty impressed… and awed that Quistis Trepe followed the ice hockey league. Well I'll be damned.

"I have no idea when we can do this," Seifer finally said with a shrug, waving her little timetable around. "There's not even time to take a leak in here."

She refrained from rolling her eyes, but did have to concede that he had a point.

"Well, there's no doubt you have a freer timetable than I do, unless you're on a mission?"

"I have one coming up in about five weeks."

"Okay, we can work around that. How about we meet twice a week… before breakfast? It's the only time that works. Say 0600 hours?"

"Hard pass. You can't take away my sleep in."

"What time do you sleep in till?"

"Dunno. Nine. Ten. Eleven."

Quistis wrinkled her nose in what he thought was a decidedly cute fashion, until he remembered that she was trying to get him to wake up at some ungodly hour.

"That's very late," she said delicately.

"Or maybe you're just waking very early. Look, if it's the only time we can do, we can try 8AM. We can meet over breakfast," he added, glancing over her timetable again. "Cross dressing and coffee, sounds delightful."

"7:00."

"Fine. Looks like it's only on a Tuesday and Thursday morning with all the other stuff you've got goin' on." Much to her distaste, Seifer picked up a pencil and scribbled his name into the corresponding spots.

"My evening classes will end in a fortnight, and so does the hockey league a little after that, so I'll have some free nights soon," Quistis said bracingly. "The breakfast sessions will only be for a few weeks."

So with that decided, the morning of their first official pageant session had arrived. Quistis was impressed that Seifer had managed to turn up at all, let alone before she had.

Not that she hadn't completed some pre-preparation herself. Quistis had begun her own research and sleuthing to find out exactly what her new role would entail. She may not have had full confidence in her ability just yet, but she was going to give it her best shot.

"Selphie told us yesterday that the pageant will be comprised of four categories but they're not completely decided yet. One of them will definitely feature an interview though and showcase a talent. So we will need to work on each of these and make sure you're in top condition and form."

"Why does this sound harder than the bloody SeeD exam?" he muttered.

Quistis ignored this. "I know it's a lot, so I thought to start things off we should just watch Miss Universe and get an idea of what it's like."

"Sure." Seifer's eyes were barely open.

Quistis pulled open the laptop lid and clicked the keyboard to unlock her account. She began unwinding a pair of headphones and his eye cracked a slither more open.

"You still have headphones with a wire?"

"Yes. What? They still work perfectly fine." She put one bud in her ear and held the other one out to him expectantly, and with a sigh he took it and shoved it in his ear.

And the pair sat there in the quiet cafeteria, the headphone wire dangling between them as they watched the screen. Quistis sat upright with her hands clasped together; Seifer was slumped forward on the table, one side of his head resting on top of his folded arms. Every few minutes he would grunt in an derisive manner or snort at a contestant's appearance, outfit or behaviour.

"What a dress. Where can I get one of those?"

"Rollerblading's not a talent." Then, several seconds later, "Damn. She is good."

"Pfft. That kick's not that impressive. People are just in a twist because she's got big - "

"Seifer."

" - eyes. What? What did you think I was gonna say?"

Quistis had been watching in merciful silence for the past fifteen minutes with no interruptions from Seifer, and she smiled to herself as she listened to the heartfelt answer one of the contestants had given during the interview portion. She turned to Seifer to tell him that this was exactly the kind of reply he ought to give.

And found him asleep.

Sighing, she lifted an elbow and gave him a nudge. Then another. When there was still no response, she took a hold of his ear, prayed silently to Hyne, and yanked it.

"Argh!" Seifer woke with a start, head pulled towards her for a split second before she released him and he immediately jerked away. He looked at her with wild eyes, "What the hell was that for?"

"You need to remain awake for this," said Quistis simply, taking another sip of her tea and looking at him with wide, plaintive blue eyes.

He stared at her in disbelief. How dare she look so innocent. She knows exactly what she's doing.

"Far out, instructor, you're a freakin' robot." Seifer ran a hand down the side of his face, rubbing it in an attempt to wake himself up more, before raising both arms and yawning loudly. He glanced around the cafeteria. "Sure filled up in here."

Quistis looked around too. "You're right. It's getting kind of noisy… Shall we get some food and go to the quad?"

It beat sitting here with the ever-dwindling privacy. People were throwing curious looks at them, deliberately edging by with their breakfast trays to chance a glance at what they were doing. Figures. Perfect Princess Trepe sitting alone with Scumbag Sorceress' Lapdog. We'll make top post of Garden Square.

So several moments later Seifer found himself at his old faithful lunch spot in the quad, except he was now accompanied by one of the least likeliest meal companions. Quistis sat with her legs over the step, somehow looking so much more mature and proper than anyone else he knew their age. Not that she looked old or anything. But everything about how she held herself, how she walked and talked and her eyes scrutinised something just felt so… old.

Maybe the girl was born middle-aged.

She reached into the brown paper bag she'd gotten from the cafeteria and pulled out a muffin. Seifer was still mulling over her geriatric tendencies when Quistis held the muffin out to him, and she mistook his non-responsive stare as suspicion over it.

"I'm assured it's wonderful and fresh," she said plaintively. "Still warm."

"Oh. Right." Seifer took the muffin and took a grand bite, chewing on it for a few seconds before swallowing. "S'not bad. I reckon I could make it better."

Quistis raised her eyebrows as she bit into her own muffin. "You could make a better blueberry muffin?"

"That's what I said."

"So you're saying you know how to bake."

"Why the tone of surprise, instructor? I'm hurt."

"What can you bake?"

"Bread. Muffins. Brownies. I make a good coconut slice too."

"Are you being serious right now, Seifer?" When he nodded soberly as if this was not in any way extraordinary, she asked, trying not to let the disbelief creep into her voice, "When did you learn how to do that? I don't recall you being a baker."

You don't recall much about me at all, do you, Trepe? Shoving away this useless thought, Seifer shrugged off-handedly, "Picked it up during my time with the wicked witch."

"…Did she teach you or something?"

He shot her a funny look, a silent snicker rippling in his chest. Perhaps icicle-Trepe had more of a sense of humour than he gave her credit for. At least better than solemn Squall who probably wouldn't recognise a joke if it danced naked in front of him.

"Wicked witch with pastry skills? Nah." Seifer scrunched up the empty muffin wrapper and tossed it back into the paper bag. "Believe it or not, sometimes there was a fat load of time and jack all to do. And very little resources. Some of the other soldiers and I would dick around with the flour and eggs, and I kinda just experimented from there."

Contrasting to his completely eaten muffin, Quistis had just taken two small bites and was still chewing on it thoughtfully. Like some sort of bird. She also had a tiny crumb on the bottom corner of her mouth that Seifer had a random strange urge to brush away for her.

"Wow," she finally said. "That's, uh, good, I suppose. Baking's a great skill to have."

"Did you broaden your abilities during that time?" Seifer said this in a slightly mocking way, but Quistis considered his question for a few moments.

"Yes," she finally said with a sheepish smile. "I learnt how to play a piece on the piano."

"That's not bad for someone practically tone deaf."

Quistis frowned at him, obviously taking offence at his blunt honesty, and he was mentally counting down to the nag fest (3… 2… 1…) before a strange expression crossed her face. Lowering the muffin, she looked at him intently and asked, "How do you know that?"

Seifer looked away, pulling out another food item from the bag. An apple. Bleh. Might as well eat it. Taking a loud bite, he said nonchalantly, "You're not musical at all, Trepe."

"But how do you know that?" she persisted, still gazing at him.

"Because you used to sing nursery rhymes to crybaby Zell and sulky Squall, and it was like a train going off the rails, really, really fast."

Quistis appeared torn between exasperation and nostalgia, but the latter won out and she said in a voice of hushed awe, "I… did to that. I'd forgotten. You remember that?"

"Wish I didn't," he muttered, but she didn't seem to catch on. "Anyway, you can't carry a tune to save your life. Maybe you were kinder to an instrument."

"It was very difficult," admitted Quistis ruefully. "I think I probably still played some wrong notes in the end, but the others were good enough to disguise my mistakes."

"Wow. Has the equilibrium of the world been upended? You mean the Trepe machine didn't ace something?"

"We only had a few hours to practise!" she said a touch defensively. "And music's not something that ever came up in our SeeD course."

He snickered, "Relax, instructor. You can still dance at least, so you have some sense of rhythm and beat. Just don't dabble in anything with tones or notes. You could start a club with Leonhart and just speak in a monotone."

Seifer expected her to roll her eyes or shut down in her defence mode some more, but on the contrary her face brightened and she leaned forward to him eagerly, muffin completely forgotten.

"That's it, Seifer - you should dance!"

"Dance?"

"Yes."

"Oh… kay. Which would you like, I'm a little teapot or the macarena?"

"No, I mean for your talent portion of the pageant. I was thinking about it before when you were asleep," she shot him a pointed look and he sarcastically saluted, "and just then you mentioned baking so I thought perhaps we could do that, but the logistics of it would be difficult. Could we get an oven on stage? And then would we have to wait hours for it to be ready? But then you reminded me - you can dance!"

"At the pageant?" He still wasn't so sure.

"Yes - you danced so well the other night at the SeeD ball," Quistis insisted. "The judges will love it. It's traditional, it's classic, and you could even add a fun modern element at the end."

"The only difference," Seifer narrowed his eyes, "is that I'll be wearing a dress."

"We should definitely get you one of those swishy ones that will look lovely when you spin and turn," she said wistfully.

He grimaced, feeling faintly sickened although he had fully expected this to happen when he foolishly agreed to this whole ordeal. But Quistis seemed heartened and excited as much as she could be about something, and it was for something that involved him, so… he decided he'd just have to go along with it.

"I can hardly wait," Seifer said stiffly.

"What we need to find for you now," said Quistis thoughtfully, appearing to be on a roll, "is a dance partner."

"Can't I just go solo?"

"Having a dance partner will showcase your ability to work as a team. It will definitely earn you points. Besides, a traditional dance requires you have a partner."

"Can't it be you?"

She cocked her head to the side wonderingly, "Of course not. You're a girl, remember? You'll need a male partner."

Oh Hyne. This just keeps getting better.

"I ain't dancing with some dude," Seifer said bluntly. "That's a sausage fest right there."

"What is a - never mind, I'm sure I don't want to know," Quistis shook her head. "He'd have to be quite tall, I suppose, since you are."

"Are you hearing me, instructor? I'm not doin' it!"

"And it would be nice if they were a good dancer themselves."

"Not happening."

"Oh, I know!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" asked Seifer warily in spite of himself. Then almost instantly, "No. Shut up. Don't say anything."

"We'll ask Irvine!"

"Oh, hell no."

Seifer had foolishly thought (hoped) that Irvine wouldn't do it. Partly because he wouldn't want to (no dude liked a sausage fest) and partly because Selphie wouldn't allow it, because he was one of the judges for crying out loud, and that would be completely unfair and biased and all the rest of that ethical crap.

But apparently Miss Balamb Garden was Selphie's baby that she dreamed up, meaning she was happy to bend the rules any which way to suit what she wanted.

"Yeah, of course that's okay!" she said exuberantly. "We'll just get someone else to stand in for that round to judge for Irvy! Easy peasy. It's nothing too serious - we're all just here to raise money for Sis' orphanage and to have a good time!"

To cap it off, Irvine was totally for the idea and agreed to it immediately. Seifer was beginning to have a pageant-induced aneurysm.

He was a SeeD, for crying out loud. They all were. They should be out there fighting for good causes, defeating nasty monsters, travelling to different continents and discovering mystical Guardian Forces and doing a deep dive into the Deep Sea Research Centre. ("Been there, done all that," said Zell lazily, "Seriously dude, you have no idea how good it is to just be here and have the cafeteria full of hot dogs. No place like home!")

But nope, instead he was training how to be a lady, being forced to hold hands and dance with another dude.

Not at all the kickass life he'd envisioned for himself.

Still better than where I was a year ago, though…

"That's enough!"

Both Seifer and Irvine froze and looked around. Quistis stood up, arms crossed, eyes narrowed and expression fierce. It was night time, post-curfew, and she had taken great pains and efforts to organise this hour for the boys to practise their ballroom dancing. It had to be discreet and quiet and secretive, because they didn't want anyone finding out what Seifer's talent was or that Irvine was his partner.

But so far fifteen precious minutes had elapsed with zero progress because the boys could not touch each other without swearing and leaping away as though electrocuted.

Well, it was mainly Seifer releasing four-letter curse words into the air, ranging from the mild ones to the more explicit kind. Irvine, Quistis suspected, was rather enjoying himself and kept sliding his hand down the other man's shoulder or back whenever they got remotely close to a dance position.

Quistis strode over, pointing a finger at the pair of them sternly. "Stop acting like you're eleven-years-old and hold. Hands. Now!"

Seifer opened his mouth in protest, but Quistis glowered at him, and with one last suspicious look at Irvine he begrudgingly held out his hands to him. Their fingers brushed. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest.

"Good," she sighed, "Now Irvine, hand on Seifer's waist - stop feeling him up - and Seifer, put your left hand on Irvine's shoulder."

"Can't we do this without touching each other?"

"How in the world is that supposed to work? Stop asking silly questions and hold his shoulder."

Breathing through his teeth, Seifer did as he was told, and looked doggedly right into Irvine's face to see that the aggravating cowboy was smiling at him.

"Say, I've never had a dance partner with such pretty eyes," he drawled.

Seifer's other hand was currently clasped into Irvine's, but it twitched as he resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

Quistis tilted her head critically as she surveyed their stiff, awkward stance. There was nothing intimate or partnership-like in this position. Murder appeared imminent. "It would be good if you were a bit taller, Irvine," she commented, choosing to work with what wouldn't spark violence. "Could you wear some shoes to give you some height during the dance?"

Ha, I'm taller, I knew I was, thought Seifer smugly, but that quickly dissipated when Irvine said breezily, "Sure thing. Anythin' for my lady." He winked at Seifer who swore again, wrenching his hand away and taking a step back.

Quistis smiled at Irvine, "Thank you, Irvine," before glaring at the still cussing blonde, grabbing his hand and dragging him back towards his dance partner. "For heaven's sake, stop being so homophobic, Seifer."

"He's doing it on purpose!" Seifer howled, knowing he sounded like a child and not caring.

"Of course he is, just ignore him," she replied impatiently, walking over to turn on the music. "Now dance! Go."

A soft Trabian waltz began playing, and the next ten minutes were filled with more swearing and trodden feet and sheer irritation. Quistis felt her hope and anticipation deflating like a balloon the longer she watched both men. Had she really thought the two of them could wow the judges with their dancing?

Currently Seifer had not-so-accidentally kicked Irvine in the ankle, and Irvine was now dragging him back, side, forward, side while complaining about what a dead weight he was -

"Stop!" Quistis finally exclaimed, at her wits' end. The boys sprang apart again as she strode over and batted Seifer away, taking his spot in front of Irvine. "Here, let me do it."

Irvine looked all too relieved to take her hand, and together they began to glide smoothly with the music. Irvine even twirled her out and received her again seamlessly. Seifer scowled on the sideline.

"See?" sighed Quistis as they kept dancing. "Why can't you do this with Seifer?"

"I'm trying to, but he's like an angry kitty - " Irvine complained.

"What the hell did you call me?"

" - he won't let me lead - "

"That's it!" she said suddenly as it dawned on her. Quistis turned to look at Seifer, one hand still on Irvine's shoulder and the other holding his hand, and Seifer was seized by an unbidden desire to yank her away from him.

"Seifer, you're the lady. You're used to leading the dance, and that's why you're having so much trouble with Irvine right now. You need to be led, not lead."

"Oh, of course," said Seifer sourly, "Just what I always wanted."

"Come on, Seifer, let's try again." Quistis stepped out of Irvine's hold and beckoned him over in that steady, expectant manner that he was only too familiar with. It was her instructor-look and he was the only student to ever challenge her on it.

But he didn't this time. With a heavy sigh Seifer dragged his feet back over in front of Irvine.

"Did it hurt?" Irvine asked him soberly.

"Huh?"

"When you fell from heaven to dance with me." He flashed Seifer a lazy grin.

Irvine's face, Seifer decided in that moment, would look exponentially better with a black eye, but then his stupid conscience had to catch a glimpse of Quistis whose face was pulled in both an exasperated, warning, 'don't-you-frickin'-dare' and pleading way, and with great effort Seifer unclenched his fist.

"Shut up, Kinneas, and let's dance," he muttered, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder.