The Files Are In The Computer (FFVIII)
The Files Are In The Computer
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Seifer, Irvine
Rating: PG-13
for eerian_sadow
Notes: Because my computer made me angry today. I will write more in-depth Seifer/Irvine at a later date.
- - -
“Damn,” Irvine said, under his breath - and then louder: “Damn, damn, damn.” He jammed his finger into the escape key so hard his knuckles whitened. “Damn! Why the fuck can’t you be Selphie?”
“Tits are too big,” Seifer said from his perch beside the window. Irvine heard the whistle of a hasty cast, and the sound of another explosion outside. “Got another one.”
Irvine growled, and started mashing the function keys. “Help or go to hell, Almasy. Your choice.” The screen blinked, blue panic and black death. “I hate technology,” he said, and rolled back from the desk in defeat.
Seifer stood up. “Take the window,” he ordered, violently shoving Irvine out of the desk chair.
Irvine crossed the room and took up watch, raising his arm in a hasty cast as another vigilante tried to cross the town square; Firaga’s explosion was strangely satisfying. “Like you’re going to be able to do anything I can’t,” he muttered, sending Fira as a chaser for good measure.
“Got it.” Seifer sounded satisfied.
Irvine fried the next soldier in a particularly vindictive burst of Thundaga, only to turn around and find Seifer carrying the entire hard drive on his hip like the world’s bulkiest kid. “You’re leading out of here,” Seifer warned, but his usual arrogant smirk played on his lips, a bit.
Irvine’s protests died on his lips. He shrugged. “They did just say to bring ‘em the files,” he said, and turned to head back down the stairwell.
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Seifer, Irvine
Rating: PG-13
for eerian_sadow
Notes: Because my computer made me angry today. I will write more in-depth Seifer/Irvine at a later date.
- - -
“Damn,” Irvine said, under his breath - and then louder: “Damn, damn, damn.” He jammed his finger into the escape key so hard his knuckles whitened. “Damn! Why the fuck can’t you be Selphie?”
“Tits are too big,” Seifer said from his perch beside the window. Irvine heard the whistle of a hasty cast, and the sound of another explosion outside. “Got another one.”
Irvine growled, and started mashing the function keys. “Help or go to hell, Almasy. Your choice.” The screen blinked, blue panic and black death. “I hate technology,” he said, and rolled back from the desk in defeat.
Seifer stood up. “Take the window,” he ordered, violently shoving Irvine out of the desk chair.
Irvine crossed the room and took up watch, raising his arm in a hasty cast as another vigilante tried to cross the town square; Firaga’s explosion was strangely satisfying. “Like you’re going to be able to do anything I can’t,” he muttered, sending Fira as a chaser for good measure.
“Got it.” Seifer sounded satisfied.
Irvine fried the next soldier in a particularly vindictive burst of Thundaga, only to turn around and find Seifer carrying the entire hard drive on his hip like the world’s bulkiest kid. “You’re leading out of here,” Seifer warned, but his usual arrogant smirk played on his lips, a bit.
Irvine’s protests died on his lips. He shrugged. “They did just say to bring ‘em the files,” he said, and turned to head back down the stairwell.