Weekend Mini-Exchange
Well, since the 10-for-10 party got such a great response, I wanted to try another weekend event. So this time, we're doing a Mini-Exchange. The guidelines are under the cut -
( I do something for you, you do something for me... )
( I do something for you, you do something for me... )
“This is pointless.” After rolling his eyes and letting loose a loud sigh, Squall had stalked away from Zidane and the others. He could only handle stupidity in small doses, and the capacity had been breached. Even if they all thought it safer to travel in a herd after attaining their crystals and choosing to go after Chaos, he did not need to be a part of the group dynamic - one that degraded into teenage humor quickly in the hands of Zidane, Bartz, and Tidus - at all times.
With a huff he sat away from the campfire, feeling strangely exhausted due to the company he was forced to keep. He felt like a babysitter. When he heard footsteps approaching he only sighed again, but before he could grind out a “leave me alone” knees knocked gently against his back. Bartz leaned over his shoulder wearing a boyish grin; Squall just frowned.
“You know,” the mime quipped, “you’re way too easy to read.”
Squall leveled a quizzical gaze at him. “What does that have to do with this?”
“You were having fun earlier, right?” Bartz chuckled when Squall’s brow creased, the SeeD’s scar rippling slightly in the process. As awkward as Squall was, he was just as cute. The fact that only Bartz had caught on to his way of bluffing also gave him a rush of confidence. “You don’t have to hide it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Squall scoffed as he turned his head away from the mime.
The soft grate of sediment and dying grass reached his ears as Bartz moved to sit beside him-right beside him-and their legs brushed as Bartz stretched his own out in front of him. “When I was little,” Bartz said, “my dad used to tell me a story about this wooden puppet that came to life. Whenever he lied his nose got longer.”
Squall’s jaw flexed as he bit back his words. The story sounded vaguely familiar - perhaps it was something the Matron had told them at some point - but he wanted to comment about the irony of a wooden puppet coming to life and Exdeath. No matter how much he heard of Bartz’s world it sounded ridiculous, but it also explained a lot if he thought about it.
“So what?” Squall asked when it was clear that Bartz wouldn’t say more until he said something.
“Well, when you lie you get this really grumpy look on your face,” he answered, laughter in his voice.
When Squall looked over at him Bartz was mimicking the look, proving his point. “I do not.” He turned away again, if only to hide the light flush on his cheeks.
“It’s really obvious,” Bartz laughed, though he withheld the fact that he was the only one who had yet to notice.
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“So if I’m like a puppet,” Squall ventured, “who’s pulling my strings?”
Bartz started when Squall spoke, surprised to hear his companion speak up without being spoken to. All as a result of being some kind of soldier, Bartz had gathered, but he was just a roaming adventurer. The world Squall came from seemed far out of his league.
Bowing his head slightly, Bartz let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well,” he began, “me, I guess.”
Squall glanced over at him, catching a flash of his boyish grin. Even if he felt like it was Zidane and the others that pulled his strings in too many directions, sending him into mayhem, there was something about Bartz’s confession he liked. Odds were he was taking it the wrong way, but Bartz never had to know that.
“You would.” The briefest of smiles touched his lips, but just as quickly as it had come it was gone.
Bartz’s hand found his leg as the boy got to his knees, the mime’s lithe frame leaning over Squall’s crossed legs. Too close, Squall thought, but he said nothing to make him move away. There was a flush on his cheeks, one that looking away could not hide, but that did not mean he didn’t try. Bartz was just too friendly, he reminded himself.
“A smile looks good on you,” Bartz commented, his grin still on his lips. “Do it again,” he urged. “Do it again.”
Squall only frowned in response, but he chanced a look back at the other. Glancing up through brown bangs and long lashes he scoffed softly. “Make me,” he challenged.
The hand on his leg clenched for a moment, and something unmistakably dark passed through Bartz’s brown eyes. Even his grin faltered, and when it was replaced it was distinctly ravenous. Briefly Squall wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into, but it was already too late.
“I’ll go get my string.”
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♥ Hopefully it's not too horrible. :)
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/hopes for more 58/85 requests to appear/
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Request: Bartz/Squall, keeping with the Pinocchio theme!
AP chance: If Bartz is dressed as Jiminy Cricket and Squall is dressed as Pinocchio. Bahaha, the thought amuses me so much.
Now I can never see Pinocchio the same way again! And... that's for the best. ♥
No, just my lame ol' journal. :( I may consider it, though, with all the writing I've been doing for the comm, haha. x)
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THAT IS SO--AUGH!! SO CUTE! *_* Thank you!! ♥♥♥♥
I am definitely up for it. I was actually thinking about doing a whole Disney set with various pairings, but who needs other pairings when you have Bartz and Squall?!
omg, yay! Now I have an excuse to write more Squall and Bartz fics! >:)
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Somehow he let Bartz talk him into telling him a story, and somehow he let the mime talk him into mimicking a pillow for the SeeD operative. Well, the latter wasn’t all that bad-Bartz’s lithe thighs were surprisingly comfortable-but his stories were ridiculous. It didn’t help that Bartz narrated his tales in a variety of voices, the most notable one being Exdeath.
“You know,” Bartz sighed. “Little people.”
“Like,” Squall paused as he tried to think of a suitable comparison, “Moombas?”
Bartz raised a questioning brow at the man laying on him. Telling stories was hard when their worlds seemed so different, but he was determined. When he had decided what story to tell Squall that night he had even dressed the part of a dashing prince. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t meant for that, but the blue tunic with its golden trim certainly made him feel like a fairytale prince.
“More like,” he tried to think of something in their world that would work, “Zidane!”
Squall understood the reference, but then he wondered why a princess would want to surround herself with seven little monkeys. It was a headache waiting to happen, especially with the amount of flirting she’d be subjected to. Not even Squall was exempt from Zidane’s advances and grins, but then again, look where he was now.
“So why’d she run away?” Squall asked, trying to get his mind off of where it was beginning to wander.
Leaning over him enough to catch his gaze, Bartz frowned. “Have you been listening at all?” When Squall didn’t answer he only sighed. “The evil queen wanted to kill her because she was prettier.”
The corner of Squall’s mouth twitched with a sarcastic grin, but before he could say anything he made note of Bartz’s glare. For such a free-spirit Bartz was big on his storytelling - it helped him upkeep his skills, he said - and so Squall let the remark go. Still, if he thought about it he could kind of understand; he had grown up in a world where Ultimecia had wreaked her havoc, after all.
“So the dwarves helped her,” Bartz continued, falling back into his narrative. “They each had their own personality, like-well, like the other warriors.”
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Maybe it was because he desired a life as easy-going as that, or maybe it was because he couldn’t afford to look away for a moment, but Squall’s gaze had been following the mime for a while. It was an attraction that was unexpected and magnetic, something that was as unlikely as a Princess who would choose to live among dwarves and as inevitable as a Prince showing up to rescue her.
Squall started when he realized the voice of the Princess that was answering the witch, Ultimecia’s, words was an impersonation of his own. “Wait a minute,” he began as he started to sit up.
Bartz’s hands were on his shoulders before he could get far, pushing him back down with a grin. “What, you thought you’d play any other role?” The mime chuckled.
“So who are you?” He bit back, frowning at Bartz’s nonchalant way of things.
“Who do you think?” Bartz almost seemed offended, but his smile said otherwise. “I’m the Prince, of course.”
Raising a slender brow at the thin man above him, Squall scoffed. “The Prince who doesn’t do anything?”
“I have the most important part,” Bartz argued. “After the Princess eats the apple - that was really stupid of you, by the way - she falls asleep and doesn’t wake up even after the dwarves kill the witch. How do you think she comes to life again?”
Squall was almost afraid to ask, especially with the triumphant grin that was already on Bartz’s lips as he leaned over the SeeD operative. The collar of Bartz’s tunic brushed against his cheeks, his beaded necklace almost hitting Squall’s chin. In the end he did not answer, allowing silence to pass between them as their breath mingled in the cool air.
“Should I demonstrate?” Bartz was still grinning, a sign that he was only teasing.
Before he could draw back to finish his story, Squall’s hand lifted and found the back of the wandering mime’s neck. He only allowed a moment of surprise to flash in Bartz’s dark eyes before he closed the short distance between their lips. Last time he had let Bartz lead him around, and just once he wanted to feel like he had the upper hand.
“You’re a very forward Princess,” Bartz chuckled against Squall’s bruised lips after their protracted meeting. He withheld the fact that, with his lips bruised and the dark hue of his hair at night, he looked even more like Snow White. This was a favorable turn of events.
“I thought it was the Prince’s job to wake me up,” Squall ventured, meeting Bartz’s gaze, searching for a sign to go on.
“You didn’t eat an apple,” Bartz pointed out.
“But I’ve had to put up with a lot of annoying dwarves,” he replied.
Laughing, Bartz knew he couldn’t argue with that. Squall had put up with them all surprisingly well lately, and Bartz had taken all of the credit. He would always be there when the SeeD needed to let off steam, whether it was a story Squall needed or something more.
The dwarves were nowhere to be seen, so he did not mind spoiling his Princess again.
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Sorry this is so late! D: I hope you like it! ♥
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I'm like so happy right now, I have a cheesy grin on my face lmao <33333
/saves all your stories and cherishes them forever
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But thank you! I'm glad that it made your day a little better. ♥
This is a meager offering for you as well! Just to show my love for your art (and Himipoo's, too! :])! Cause you're so amazing! ♥
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