[Fic] Dissidia: Final Fantasy - Errant Egotism [2/?]
Title: Errant Egotism [2/?]
Pairings: Eventual Squall Leonhart x Zidane Tribal
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Zidane suffers an injury that takes him out of action for a few days, tempers flare, friendships are thrown out of balance, and everyone learns things a thing or two about the others.
Warnings: Language
Notes: Part I
The next morning, Bartz was awakened rather rudely by yells of rage.
"Give them back!"
"No. It's not like you're going to be using them for a while."
"That doesn't mean you can just take them!"
Oh boy.
Bartz looked upwards to check the weather. The sky might have been clear, but the tension around the little campsite made it feel foreboding and ominous. And the source of that tension was his two friends, who were, he suspected, attempting to stare each other into submission. Bartz knew that Squall was an expert in glaring, having been on the receiving end of a few of them himself. Zidane seemed to be holding up well, returning it with an equally fierce stare that was somewhat diminished due to the fact that he was much shorter than Squall. Eventually, Zidane relented, stalking off angrily.
"Hold these," Squall said, shoving Zidane's daggers into Bartz's hands. He didn't give Bartz time to protest. "You're the one who carries the least, so you're taking them. We're leaving."
Bartz wanted to ask if Squall was trying to drag him into the feud between him and Zidane, but thought better of it.
~*~
If asked the previous day if he ever believed that traveling with his friends could suck, Bartz would very confidently answer "no." But after two days of trekking through a rainy marsh between two friends who seemed to be dead set on making each other's lives (and his own by extension) difficult, the answer was now a resounding "yes." Bartz had eventually given Zidane his Mage Mashers back to him, much to Squall's annoyance.
"He's just going to go get himself in a fight," Squall had said.
"No, he won't," Bartz replied. "If he does, we'll just have to stop him, won't we?" To him, that was much more preferable than the way Zidane would stare at the daggers in his hand. It made Bartz feel nervous, like he was going to get attacked at any moment.
He never was, because Zidane was too busy quarreling with Squall to. And in Bartz's humble opinion, Squall wasn't acting much better, and at some point, he was starting to wonder if they were actually arguing about anything important or if they were fighting just for the sake of fighting. There was nothing friendly about these disputes, and Bartz was starting to worry that things would come to actual blows soon. He knew both Squall and Zidane well; neither were the type to back down when pride was on the line. The prickly Squall was never the type to actually hit his friends, but Zidane might push him that far.
"The weather was so nice, too..." he sighed, looking up as rain poured down onto them.
"It always rains here," Squall replied, and Zidane mumbled something that sounded like "Burmecia," but neither Bartz nor Squall knew what a "Burmecia" was.
"We're not going to get struck by lightning, are we?"
Squall shrugged. "Maybe." They were standing in water and the land was open all around. If lightning was going to hit anything, it might as well be them. Honestly, he really didn't care. The entire day had been miserable. They were cold, tired, wet, and muddy. Getting sturck by lightning would at least break up the monotony.
The three of them paused momentarily to shudder in fear. Why was the thought of being hit by lightning so damn frightening? It wasn't like all three of them hadn't been on the wrong end of Thunder spells before...
As if sensing what they were feeling, the rain decided to up into a full blown storm. Rain started coming down in sheets and fierce winds started to blow. Too unsafe to travel, the group of three sought shelter, eventually coming across a cave that was, thankfully, on dry land. They were stuck and had no choice but to wait the storm out, but luckily for them, as far as caves went, this was a nice one, lined with translucent crystals that gave off a soft glow of light. It was dry, peaceful, and perhaps most importantly, roomy enough so the three of them could claim his own area away from the others.
"Get down from there," Squall ordered when he spotted Zidane climbing up one of the walls to reach a high ledge. "You're going to fall."
"Am not." And to prove his point, Zidane let go of the wall, leaping down to land gracefully on his feet. "I climb things all the time. You've told me to climb things before. I'm injured, not helpless!"
"That doesn't mean you should be off doing your stupid stunts all the time!"
"I know perfectly well what I can and can't do, so how about you stop being a control freak?"
Too busy exchanging angry words with each other, neither of them noticed someone approaching them until that someone's hands grabbed both of their heads and shoved them forward, causing them to bump foreheads. Painfully.
"All right, I've had enough of this," Bartz growled. "You," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Zidane, "Can't you see Squall's worried sick about you? And you," he whipped around, nearly smacking Squall in the face. "You calm down. You're not helping him by being bossy. I'm tired of you guys fighting for no good reason and dragging me into it. So make up already so we can start being friends again."
Outside, lightning flashed, and both Squall and Zidane would be lying if they said that Bartz didn't look extremely intimidating at that very moment.
"Teenagers," Bartz huffed, then stalked over to the entrance of the cave, sitting down near the mouth and assigning himself guard duty. Silence reigned, and after a few minutes, Squall and Zidane dared to look at each other, giving each other unsure looks. So...they were just supposed to start getting along now? After all the hostility of the past two days? Bartz caught their attention by clearing his throat. He pointed at his eyes and then at them.
Apparently, yes.
Well, too bad, both of them thought. Squall turned around to find a spot as far away from the other two as possible, but stopped when the little terror jumped onto his back, using him as a springboard to get back onto the wall and climb up to the ledge. Angrily, Squall whipped around.
"Fine, be like that! See if I care when you break your neck!"
He was about to stalk off (again) when the bursts of light from a Holy spell struck the ground in front of him. Squall dared to look in the direction they came from and saw Bartz, charging up another spell threateningly. The soft glow from the magic illuminated his face in a way that was, qutie frankly, terrifying. Holy magic was not supposed to work like that.
All right, all right. He got the message.
Making no effort to hide his annoyance, Squall scaled the wall and up to Zidane's ledge. The thief was lounging on his side, resting on his good arm with his eyes closed. Squall couldn't tell at first whether or not he was asleep, and the question was answered for him when Zidane opened an eye to look at him.
"What are you doing here? I'm trying to sleep."
"I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here," Squall grumbled as Zidane sat up. "But Bartz is serious about the whole reconciliation thing."
They both took a moment to fully take in the fact that they were being bossed around by Bartz Klauser of all people.
"Fine, okay," Zidane sighed. "We'll stop going for each other's throats, do a little bonding, and kiss and make up."
"We're not going to kiss."
"I didn't mean that literally."
Squall crossed his arms. "Just wanted to make sure you knew."
Mimicking him, Zidane gave Squall and icy stare and said, "You've turned into a real jerk lately, you know that?"
"Oh, and you've been as bright and radiant as the sun? You've been nothing but a little ball of pissy."
They faced off with a stare, each daring the other to turn away first.
Far away, on the other side of the world, Tidus sneezed.
Zidane was first to break their silent battle.
"Sorry. I know you're fussing over me because you care."
Squall frowned at the last word, but didn't say anything. Knowing he wasn't wrong and that Squall just didn't like being called out on his more sensitive side, Zidane continued, "But really, I'm not helpless. You're real touchy and controlling when you're worried, you know that?"
"I do. And you're really, really melodramatic and whiny when you're upset, you know that?"
Zidane didn't answer at first, looking to one of the crystals that lined the cave's walls. "...yeah, I do." Guess that was something he had in common with Kuja. He felt much better now, and held out his left arm. "Truce?"
Squall shook his hand. "Truce."
~*~
The storm didn't let up until nightfall, and there was no way the three of them were going to trekking through a marsh in the dark. Now that peace reigned supreme, Bartz was back to his normal, cheerful self, joining Zidane and Squall on the ledge as if nothing had ever happened, and he even managed to start a friendly conversation.
"...I've suffered worse before," Zidane said, looking at his injured arm. "When Mikoto found me at the Iifa Tree. I was bedridden for weeks and wasn't allowed to leave until I was completely healed, which took even longer. She said I was the biggest brat about it."
"Wait, who's Mikoto?" Squall asked. Plenty of names had come up in Zidane's stories, but never Mikoto.
"She's my sister."
"You have a sister?" Bartz asked, raising an eyebrow. He was picturing a female Zidane in his mind.
"You wouldn't like her, she's a bit of a killjoy. Not really her fault, she had a terrible upbringing in a depressing place. I'm still trying to fix that," Zidane said, then turned his head to look at Squall. "She's a lot like you, actually. You should meet her. You two would be best friends."
A female Zidane that was like Squall. That made Bartz's head spin.
"Wasn't much for me to do," Zidane continued. "Reading and playing Tetra Master was about it." And before anyone could ask what Tetra Master was, he procured a small wooden box from the item bag. Opening it, Bartz and Squall could see a stack of cards inside, each of them with a beautiful portrait of a monster on it, a mysterious sequence of numbers and letters written on them, and arrows placed seemingly randomly along the edges of each card. "Popular card game where I come from," he explained. He was about to close the lid and put it away when an unexpected question from an unexpected person was asked.
"How do you play?"
Zidane and Bartz stared at Squall, who only repeated the question. Picking up the wooden box, Squall examined the cards more closely. And much to their surprise, he procured a box of his own and opened it. Sure enough, there were cards inside his as well. They were similar to Zidane's cards, with four numbers written in a cross formation in the corner.
"It looks similar to Triple Triad."
"Well, uh," Zidane started. "Okay, I guess I better start with the basics..."
~*~
Bartz sulked alone. He didn't know anything about trading card games, and after a few minutes, it was pretty clear that he was completely lost in the conversation. He had left the other two to their talk about cards and numbers and flipping and other things he didn't quite get. He had to admit it was pretty cool when Zidane put two of his cards together and the two monsters drawn on them magically appeared to battle, but that was it. And Squall! Bartz had no idea he liked that kind of thing.
Ah well, he had repaired their friendship, and that was the important thing.
Pairings: Eventual Squall Leonhart x Zidane Tribal
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Zidane suffers an injury that takes him out of action for a few days, tempers flare, friendships are thrown out of balance, and everyone learns things a thing or two about the others.
Warnings: Language
Notes: Part I
The next morning, Bartz was awakened rather rudely by yells of rage.
"Give them back!"
"No. It's not like you're going to be using them for a while."
"That doesn't mean you can just take them!"
Oh boy.
Bartz looked upwards to check the weather. The sky might have been clear, but the tension around the little campsite made it feel foreboding and ominous. And the source of that tension was his two friends, who were, he suspected, attempting to stare each other into submission. Bartz knew that Squall was an expert in glaring, having been on the receiving end of a few of them himself. Zidane seemed to be holding up well, returning it with an equally fierce stare that was somewhat diminished due to the fact that he was much shorter than Squall. Eventually, Zidane relented, stalking off angrily.
"Hold these," Squall said, shoving Zidane's daggers into Bartz's hands. He didn't give Bartz time to protest. "You're the one who carries the least, so you're taking them. We're leaving."
Bartz wanted to ask if Squall was trying to drag him into the feud between him and Zidane, but thought better of it.
~*~
If asked the previous day if he ever believed that traveling with his friends could suck, Bartz would very confidently answer "no." But after two days of trekking through a rainy marsh between two friends who seemed to be dead set on making each other's lives (and his own by extension) difficult, the answer was now a resounding "yes." Bartz had eventually given Zidane his Mage Mashers back to him, much to Squall's annoyance.
"He's just going to go get himself in a fight," Squall had said.
"No, he won't," Bartz replied. "If he does, we'll just have to stop him, won't we?" To him, that was much more preferable than the way Zidane would stare at the daggers in his hand. It made Bartz feel nervous, like he was going to get attacked at any moment.
He never was, because Zidane was too busy quarreling with Squall to. And in Bartz's humble opinion, Squall wasn't acting much better, and at some point, he was starting to wonder if they were actually arguing about anything important or if they were fighting just for the sake of fighting. There was nothing friendly about these disputes, and Bartz was starting to worry that things would come to actual blows soon. He knew both Squall and Zidane well; neither were the type to back down when pride was on the line. The prickly Squall was never the type to actually hit his friends, but Zidane might push him that far.
"The weather was so nice, too..." he sighed, looking up as rain poured down onto them.
"It always rains here," Squall replied, and Zidane mumbled something that sounded like "Burmecia," but neither Bartz nor Squall knew what a "Burmecia" was.
"We're not going to get struck by lightning, are we?"
Squall shrugged. "Maybe." They were standing in water and the land was open all around. If lightning was going to hit anything, it might as well be them. Honestly, he really didn't care. The entire day had been miserable. They were cold, tired, wet, and muddy. Getting sturck by lightning would at least break up the monotony.
The three of them paused momentarily to shudder in fear. Why was the thought of being hit by lightning so damn frightening? It wasn't like all three of them hadn't been on the wrong end of Thunder spells before...
As if sensing what they were feeling, the rain decided to up into a full blown storm. Rain started coming down in sheets and fierce winds started to blow. Too unsafe to travel, the group of three sought shelter, eventually coming across a cave that was, thankfully, on dry land. They were stuck and had no choice but to wait the storm out, but luckily for them, as far as caves went, this was a nice one, lined with translucent crystals that gave off a soft glow of light. It was dry, peaceful, and perhaps most importantly, roomy enough so the three of them could claim his own area away from the others.
"Get down from there," Squall ordered when he spotted Zidane climbing up one of the walls to reach a high ledge. "You're going to fall."
"Am not." And to prove his point, Zidane let go of the wall, leaping down to land gracefully on his feet. "I climb things all the time. You've told me to climb things before. I'm injured, not helpless!"
"That doesn't mean you should be off doing your stupid stunts all the time!"
"I know perfectly well what I can and can't do, so how about you stop being a control freak?"
Too busy exchanging angry words with each other, neither of them noticed someone approaching them until that someone's hands grabbed both of their heads and shoved them forward, causing them to bump foreheads. Painfully.
"All right, I've had enough of this," Bartz growled. "You," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Zidane, "Can't you see Squall's worried sick about you? And you," he whipped around, nearly smacking Squall in the face. "You calm down. You're not helping him by being bossy. I'm tired of you guys fighting for no good reason and dragging me into it. So make up already so we can start being friends again."
Outside, lightning flashed, and both Squall and Zidane would be lying if they said that Bartz didn't look extremely intimidating at that very moment.
"Teenagers," Bartz huffed, then stalked over to the entrance of the cave, sitting down near the mouth and assigning himself guard duty. Silence reigned, and after a few minutes, Squall and Zidane dared to look at each other, giving each other unsure looks. So...they were just supposed to start getting along now? After all the hostility of the past two days? Bartz caught their attention by clearing his throat. He pointed at his eyes and then at them.
Apparently, yes.
Well, too bad, both of them thought. Squall turned around to find a spot as far away from the other two as possible, but stopped when the little terror jumped onto his back, using him as a springboard to get back onto the wall and climb up to the ledge. Angrily, Squall whipped around.
"Fine, be like that! See if I care when you break your neck!"
He was about to stalk off (again) when the bursts of light from a Holy spell struck the ground in front of him. Squall dared to look in the direction they came from and saw Bartz, charging up another spell threateningly. The soft glow from the magic illuminated his face in a way that was, qutie frankly, terrifying. Holy magic was not supposed to work like that.
All right, all right. He got the message.
Making no effort to hide his annoyance, Squall scaled the wall and up to Zidane's ledge. The thief was lounging on his side, resting on his good arm with his eyes closed. Squall couldn't tell at first whether or not he was asleep, and the question was answered for him when Zidane opened an eye to look at him.
"What are you doing here? I'm trying to sleep."
"I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here," Squall grumbled as Zidane sat up. "But Bartz is serious about the whole reconciliation thing."
They both took a moment to fully take in the fact that they were being bossed around by Bartz Klauser of all people.
"Fine, okay," Zidane sighed. "We'll stop going for each other's throats, do a little bonding, and kiss and make up."
"We're not going to kiss."
"I didn't mean that literally."
Squall crossed his arms. "Just wanted to make sure you knew."
Mimicking him, Zidane gave Squall and icy stare and said, "You've turned into a real jerk lately, you know that?"
"Oh, and you've been as bright and radiant as the sun? You've been nothing but a little ball of pissy."
They faced off with a stare, each daring the other to turn away first.
Far away, on the other side of the world, Tidus sneezed.
Zidane was first to break their silent battle.
"Sorry. I know you're fussing over me because you care."
Squall frowned at the last word, but didn't say anything. Knowing he wasn't wrong and that Squall just didn't like being called out on his more sensitive side, Zidane continued, "But really, I'm not helpless. You're real touchy and controlling when you're worried, you know that?"
"I do. And you're really, really melodramatic and whiny when you're upset, you know that?"
Zidane didn't answer at first, looking to one of the crystals that lined the cave's walls. "...yeah, I do." Guess that was something he had in common with Kuja. He felt much better now, and held out his left arm. "Truce?"
Squall shook his hand. "Truce."
~*~
The storm didn't let up until nightfall, and there was no way the three of them were going to trekking through a marsh in the dark. Now that peace reigned supreme, Bartz was back to his normal, cheerful self, joining Zidane and Squall on the ledge as if nothing had ever happened, and he even managed to start a friendly conversation.
"...I've suffered worse before," Zidane said, looking at his injured arm. "When Mikoto found me at the Iifa Tree. I was bedridden for weeks and wasn't allowed to leave until I was completely healed, which took even longer. She said I was the biggest brat about it."
"Wait, who's Mikoto?" Squall asked. Plenty of names had come up in Zidane's stories, but never Mikoto.
"She's my sister."
"You have a sister?" Bartz asked, raising an eyebrow. He was picturing a female Zidane in his mind.
"You wouldn't like her, she's a bit of a killjoy. Not really her fault, she had a terrible upbringing in a depressing place. I'm still trying to fix that," Zidane said, then turned his head to look at Squall. "She's a lot like you, actually. You should meet her. You two would be best friends."
A female Zidane that was like Squall. That made Bartz's head spin.
"Wasn't much for me to do," Zidane continued. "Reading and playing Tetra Master was about it." And before anyone could ask what Tetra Master was, he procured a small wooden box from the item bag. Opening it, Bartz and Squall could see a stack of cards inside, each of them with a beautiful portrait of a monster on it, a mysterious sequence of numbers and letters written on them, and arrows placed seemingly randomly along the edges of each card. "Popular card game where I come from," he explained. He was about to close the lid and put it away when an unexpected question from an unexpected person was asked.
"How do you play?"
Zidane and Bartz stared at Squall, who only repeated the question. Picking up the wooden box, Squall examined the cards more closely. And much to their surprise, he procured a box of his own and opened it. Sure enough, there were cards inside his as well. They were similar to Zidane's cards, with four numbers written in a cross formation in the corner.
"It looks similar to Triple Triad."
"Well, uh," Zidane started. "Okay, I guess I better start with the basics..."
~*~
Bartz sulked alone. He didn't know anything about trading card games, and after a few minutes, it was pretty clear that he was completely lost in the conversation. He had left the other two to their talk about cards and numbers and flipping and other things he didn't quite get. He had to admit it was pretty cool when Zidane put two of his cards together and the two monsters drawn on them magically appeared to battle, but that was it. And Squall! Bartz had no idea he liked that kind of thing.
Ah well, he had repaired their friendship, and that was the important thing.