"Knight", FFVIII, Seifer/Squall

[jameva]

Title: Knight
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Raiting: PG-13
Request: Heroism is in the eye of the beholder, post game, by
dark_squall.

Seifer couldn’t get his mind off the wall. There it was, standing before him, solid and constant despite how the world tilted under his feet. Seifer reached over and pressed a hand on that wall. It was dirty and would smear filth on his gloves, but it was nice and helped him stay upright, so he decided he’d let his hand stay there.

Walking was trickier, even with the wall. Seifer dragged one foot forward, nearly fell, and scrambled after the wall. He fell on it, hugging it, and knew it would smear all over his clothes now, but hugging the wall was even better than just keeping a hand on it, so he decided to stay like this.

Seifer grumbled a few disjointed insults aimed at no clear target before trying to walk again. He’d be very happy to stay where he was - if he closed his eyes he could convince himself he was lying down- and walking was stupidly hard, but a little voice told him to move. Seifer didn’t know why, but he wanted to listen to that little voice and obey.

He stumbled again, but thanks to his extra support, he managed to drag a foot to the side without kissing the pavement. Kissing the wall instead, he dragged the other foot, pushing on his hands just a little so that his upper body could follow.

It was small progress, but progress nonetheless.

Wind tugged at his coat, tangling it in his legs while he had one foot up. Seifer tripped, lost his grip on the precious wall and flailed in the empty air for support. A pipe took pity of him and moved just so that one of his arms struck it. Hanging on for dear life, Seifer leaned on the merciful object and decided he didn’t want to move anymore. Too dangerous.

He was perfectly content to hang there when that nagging little voice spoke up again. Somehow he understood that he had to move from the rusty pipe, that it would be less risky for him than to stay here. He highly doubted that affirmation, but since it was the little voice that said it, Seifer pushed against the pipe to resume walking.

Going around the pipe and back to the wall was a challenging process. It involved too many turns and he got confused at one point, not knowing where to go next. Seifer thrust a hand to the side, hoping to find the wall, something, and was relieved to feel the solid bricks under his fingers.

He manoeuvred his body back against the wall and thought himself safe, at least until he moved again. His knee hit a deserted crate and he stumbled, but there was no pipe this time. He flailed and crashed to the pavement with a startled yelp.

That had hurt.

Swearing against everyone and the world, Seifer tried untangling his legs from the crate and the few boxes that had joined the conspiracy against his equilibrium. It’s useless to say that it was highly unsuccessful, and Seifer eventually decided that he might as well stay there.

“Seifer..?”

Really, wouldn’t he get any peace? Just when he’d been dozing off…those soggy newspapers weren’t so uncomfortable after all.

“Fuck off,” he managed to groan rather coherently. Still, a small amount of curiosity wanted to know who had bothered him, just so that he could get revenge later.

That intention was made easier when the man walked beside him and bent one knee to the pavement.

Brown hair. Blue eyes piercing the gloom, surprised. A pink scar mostly hidden by unkempt bangs.

“…said fuck off,” he repeated. Slowly, achingly, he brought a hand to his forehead and pressed, the blood throbbing against his skull painfully.

“I’d love to, but I can’t see myself leaving you here,” he insisted.

Seifer looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Don’ wan’ you to see ‘his, ‘eonhar’” he said hoarsely. Squall’s presence was giving him back his senses and his mind, and he hated it. He would have preferred not knowing in how humiliating a situation he was.

“Same here,” Squall whispered, low enough that Seifer didn’t hear it through his alcohol-addled mind. “Help me do this,” he continued, louder, and grabbed Seifer under the arms.

Seifer was as boneless as an eel and knew it, but there wasn’t much he could do to help himself. Squall might have brought him back to some semblance of reality, but he was still very, very drunk.

After some valiant efforts and patience on Squall’s part, Seifer was hoisted up and had an arm around the other’s shoulder to keep him upright. The blond man mentally congratulated himself for managing to keep his legs standing and not sag too much on his support, but Squall had just started manoeuvring him forward that the equivalent of a kick in the stomach made him double up.

“Stop…’m going to be sick,” he growled and just had time to feel Squall shift urgently beneath him before his stomach made him pay for the abuse it had suffered.

His body was still trembling once he’d thrown up everything his body contained and then some, the bile leaving a burning trail in his throat and a horrid taste in his mouth. Unconsciously, he clutched Squall tighter, who had been patiently supporting him while he was repulsively sick.

“Is that all?” he asked, his voice patient and almost gentle. He helped him straighten, making sure to make no abrupt movement so as not to upset his stomach further.

“Yeah…” Seifer answered. He was beyond the point of caring right now. After so much humiliation, he doubted he could make matters any worse.

A few stumbling steps later brought them out of the alley Seifer had been wandering in and back on the main roads. They were the only two up at this hour, save for the occasional straggler or drunkard, like him.

“Where do you live?” Squall asked, as he had no clue where to go now. He couldn’t leave Seifer, nor did he know where he could lead him to safety, except Garden. And there was no way he was dragging his boneless bulk all the way there.

Seifer raised his head, squinting down one side of the road, then the other, and took a long time answering.

“There.” He pointed left vaguely, and Squall decided it was enough indication for now and that he could always ask for precisions later. As he felt the blond man grow heavier against him, he thought it was more important to get him moving.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, or I’ll leave you right here in the middle of the road,” Squall warned and gave a small shake under Seifer’s shoulder in a vain attempt to jolt him back to some measure of awareness.

“I won’…Wan’ a drink?”

“Haven’t you had enough already?”

“You can…stop bein’ so…virtuous,” Seifer slurred in the drunk man’s near incomprehensible voice, the smallest hint of his usual sneer present.

“Someone has to compensate for you,” Squall replied with the same sarcasm in the voice, though his was filled with something else; a softness that had seldom been heard.

“Fuck you…” Obviously, Seifer’s insults weren’t at their best.

“What happened?” Not that Squall really expected to have an answer, but Seifer might be a talkative drunk, so it was worth a try.

He’d seen Seifer drunk before, once or twice, and knew he was no alcoholic, and usually a social drinker. He thought that the only reason that could make him get so wasted alone, without Fujin and Raijin insisting enough to stay, was that something was most probably wrong.

Seifer stopped walking, leaning all of his weight on Squall, who tried to shift the uncomfortable burden to a more manageable position.

“Nothin’. Stupid place…s’driving me crazy. Fucking…pitying bastards,” he muttered and, using Squall as support much like he’d done with the wall, he fished into one of his coat pockets and retrieved a small metallic bottle.

“You shouldn’t drink more, you’ll kill yourself,” Squall admonished without too much conviction. Well, he could understand Seifer’s words. With all the pride he had, he was bound to feel pity worse than anything.

“Like I care…” Seifer tilted his head back, balance teetering dangerously, and drank a good swallow, miraculously not spilling a single drop. “They think…’m some sick…beaten…dog. Can cure me with their…non-violent bullshit. An’ if the dog growls…smack on the nose. Fuck.”

Squall meant to take the bottle from Seifer but thought better of it, not wishing to anger him even more. Besides, seeing the size of it, it would be empty soon enough.

“Come on, keep moving, I am not princess-carrying you,” Squall urged. Seifer obediently stumbled forward, but now that he’d started talking, he didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Think they can…tame the dog. Roll over…good dog. Stay…good dog! Wan’ a biscuit? Gentle now…no, bad dog! Smack. Shit, the dog’ll bite their fingers off…’Cause you can’ tame it. Not…not that one. No collar…no leash. You can’t tame Seifer Almasy!”

That last part was practically yelled out and Squall lost his grip when Seifer suddenly threw his weight backwards. Stumbling to catch him, he only managed to grab his arms once his knees had hit the pavement.

“Don’t worry Seifer. They’ll never tame you,” Squall tried, awkward at reassuring the blond man. Actually, at reassuring, period.

Seifer let out a bark of a laugh that held no humour and let himself be pulled back up. “’Know that. But that doesn’ stop ‘em tryin’.”

“Since when do you care about what other people think?”

“I don’. Smack…bad doggy. Wanna leave? Board Garden? Smack…bad doggy.”

“You know why I couldn’t let you on, Seifer. I have a whole student body to think of,” Squall retorted in defence. He hadn’t made that decision to punish him, but he had so many others under his responsibility, he couldn’t ignore them for the profit of just one.

“Of course. You’re….Commander. An important person…a real hero.”

“We’ll argue about that when you’re sober. Which house?” Squall was tired of this conversation and of carrying Seifer’s dead weight around. He’d learned all he needed to know. And he was late enough, he would probably be unable to sleep before Garden’s early morning departure. That thought nearly made him groan in despair.

He was so tired.

Seifer contemplated the few houses with almost comical concentration before pointing to one. Squall blessed every deity he knew when he saw it had no stairs.

“S’unlocked,” Seifer muttered, waiting to be dragged inside.

“Not afraid of burglars?” Juggling Seifer and the door was harder than he’d expected, but somehow he managed the feat without damage being inflicted to either party.

“Nothin’ worth stealin’.”

Indeed, as Squall steered them both inside, he saw that the house was furnished with stark simplicity. He suspected Seifer of having only the Hyperion as a valuable object.

Looking around, he also noted that there were stairs to the bedroom.

Well, he doubted Seifer would object to the couch in the state he was in.

Seifer sprawled as if he had no bones as soon as he’d been set down. Despite clearly being a minute away from falling very deeply asleep, the blond man managed to raise his head a little to stare at Squall.

“Thanks,” he slurred and had no sooner lowered his head again that his eyes closed shut for good.

The word struck Squall, as he had rarely heard it from his rival, and never as sincerely as right now. He stared at the sleeping form, reeking of alcohol and anything but graceful, and could still see the power and strength it promised. Will and pride had brought him this far, and nothing more.

Seifer had called him a hero, but he didn’t believe he really deserved it. Compared to this, the determination Seifer had to resist despite how he hated -and was pitied by- FH, his own exhaustion was laughable.

---

The following morning, Seifer woke up to a killer hangover and a sick taste in his mouth. The night was foggy and unclear and he thought he remembered seeing Squall, though the chances of that happening so late at night were slim enough that he dismissed it on account of his imagination.

When he turned his head and saw the glass of water and the vial of painkillers neatly set on the coffee table, he knew it hadn’t been his imagination.

When he saw a mass of brown hair through that glass, he almost doubted himself again.

Seifer groped for the pills, seeing them as his sanity’s salvation. He knew he talked too much when he was drunk and a bit desperate. Which was why Fujin and Raijin had been chased off. Having Squall find him in that situation was bad enough, especially since he couldn’t remember what he’d been blabbering about, but he couldn’t figure out why the man would still be here, sleeping against the wall. Must be damned uncomfortable.

Seifer swallowed the painkillers and just enough water to make his body happy before turning on the side and letting his feet slide to the floor. Straightening up was a painful process, his head and stomach reminding him that it would be better to lie down and return to sleep, but he wanted to know why Squall had crashed at his place.

The man was propped on the wall, head resting on a shoulder in a position that would give him the nastiest crick ever. He looked as if he’d fallen asleep without realizing it.

“Hey…Squall,” Seifer whispered, sparing his head, as it already throbbed painfully.

The man didn’t stir, which was no real surprise considering the tone of voice used. Not wanting to make any louder noise, Seifer stood up with a silent groan and staggered around the coffee table to where Squall was sleeping.

“Wake up,” he tried again, accompanying his words with a slight shake of his shoulder.

It still took a long time for Squall to shake himself out of slumber. His brow furrowed and his eyelids fluttered from the darting eyes beneath, seeming to fight a losing battle against sleep, before they cracked open. A sliver of clear blue peeked from the opening, unfocused, and Seifer noticed how the exhaustion circles under his eyes were highlighted by the lighter colour of his eyes. Gods, but he looked so tired, he almost felt guilty for waking him up. The Commander looked like he needed a vacation.

Finally realizing what was happening, the eyes flew open and Squall zeroed in on Seifer immediately. One arm flew forward in a defensive gesture, startling the blond man out of his hangover stupor.

“What are you doing?” he yelled, feeling the decibels as knives in his brain. He winced, scrambling back to squat a safe distance away. Raising one hand to rub his temple, he watched Squall warily.

His momentary panic didn’t seem to have lasted beyond the initial shock, though, and Squall straightened slowly, focusing on Seifer with surprise instead of animosity.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, thankfully keeping his voice to a volume respectful to the hangover.

Seifer snorted and shrugged. “High-strung much? You need to take it easy,” he replied, and he really believed what he was saying. Not only did he look tired, but if he was so nervous as to attack whenever someone woke him up, his nerves must really be close to breaking.

“…maybe.”

Seifer stared. And stared really hard as Squall massaged his neck with a wince. Did he just admit to something?

Noticing his amused stare, Squall scowled and unfolded his legs slowly under the protests of his cramped muscles. “You should speak for yourself as well.”

Grinning, as laughing would be too painful right now, Seifer let himself try and find a comfortable position on the floor.

“I’m not pretending to anything.”

“No, but you had to get wasted before admitting anything,” Squall retorted. He’d slouched against the wall, as if waking up in Seifer’s home wasn’t a bizarre occurrence.

“You can forget whatever you heard. It’s nothing a Commander should worry about,” Seifer threatened. Shit, what had he said? Too much, apparently.

“Nice try, Seifer,” Squall muttered, but let the matter drop. Neither of them was very good at talking about their problems, especially not with each other. “I’m sorry for falling asleep,” he ended.

“I don’t care about that so much as why you even did. I thought you’d be happy to leave,” Seifer replied, raising his eyebrows curiously. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Don’t get any ideas, it was nothing intentional. I called Garden to explain why I was late coming back…” A pointed glare, to which Seifer grinned wider. “…and the call took long enough that I sat down. I must have fallen asleep afterwards.”

Squall’s face was set in a determined frown that challenged him to make any comment about that. Seifer understood why; he’d just admitted for the second time that he was at the end of his rope.

“Good thing you did. You wouldn’t have slept so late otherwise.” Seifer pointed to the clock, which showed that it was already past noon. Squall started and hurriedly stood up, but somewhere in the process he remembered Seifer and stopped, looking down at him with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

“Leave this place, Seifer. I won’t be there next time you lose yourself in an alley,” Squall said. His voice was very serious, lacking any lightness that would have allowed Seifer to brush off the comment.

“Easy for you to say, Squally-boy. You refused to let me board Garden, remember?” Seifer snapped back, his low voice taking another meaning than sparing his painful head.

Squall moved towards the door with a slight shake of the head, but he didn’t dismiss the matter like he’d usually do. “You can’t go on like this.”

Seifer’s grin widened dangerously, taking a feral edge.

“You neither.”

The Commander looked at him with the same look as earlier, the one he couldn’t understand, before leaving.

As the door closed, mercifully without a sound, and Seifer dragged himself back to the couch to sleep through his hangover, he thought that those idiot SeeDs had better be grateful for their ‘hero’. Squall was a freaking saint for exhausting himself so much for their sorry hides.

---

“Why haven’t you left already, Seifer?”

The question was shot out of the blue, spoken naturally as Squall kept his attention on the paperwork spread before him. Seifer looked up from the nap he’d decided to take in his office, of all places, and raised surprised eyebrows, as if the answer should be obvious.

“Because I haven’t found any reason to yet,” he answered with a dismissive shrug, but his eyes were still fixed on Squall. Wary.

“Garden has docked to probably all the towns on the planet and then some. There was bound to be one you could stop at,” the Commander argued, finally raising his eyes to meet Seifer’s.

“Maybe none suits me.”

“One will have to suit you soon.”

Seifer narrowed his eyes and straightened. “Are you kicking me out?” he asked bluntly.

Squall returned the stare with a cool one of his own, eyes guarded except for a touch of anger.

“You said you were only hitching a ride out of FH, and I held you to those words. It’s been four months, Seifer,” he said, avoiding the other’s direct question.

“What’s four month in a lifetime?” Seifer sneered, feeling his own anger build up.

He’d managed to convince Squall to let him in Garden at one point, claiming to leave once he’d found himself a place to live. It had been surprisingly easy, especially when he’d started taking up some of his Garden duties and thus giving him back a few precious hours of sleep and peace.

“You can’t stay here,” Squall insisted. Seifer rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t had anyone trying anything in weeks. I get insults, but that’s nothing new.” And it was true. Somehow, people had gotten used to him during those months, and the fact that he’d made himself useful had only helped that change.

“Seifer, don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Squall said tightly.

At those words, Seifer bolted upwards and slammed his hands against the desk.

“Fuck, Squall, is that it? Make it harder? I’ve been helping you keep a nice little hero image by doing all this shit for you, and that’s all you say? Leave?” Seifer spat, and he surprised even himself for the venom in his voice. But really, could Squall really be this stupid? Hadn’t he seen anything deeper than their ‘bargain’?

Squall’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the looming Seifer, and there was tightly controlled hurt in his stare.

“I do what I have to do. I helped you, you returned the favour,” he replied, voice throbbing with anger.

“You really are thick, Leonhart. Do you sincerely think it’s just about that?”

“I have to think about Garden as well, Seifer.”

“And how does kicking me out help more than keeping me so that I help you take care of it?” Seifer challenged.

“I’ll manage,” he answered.

“Like before? So much good that did you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Seifer,” Squall stated fiercely, and that made the blond man angrier than anything else, enough that he wanted to punch him right there.

“Do you think I’m helping you because I think I owe you? Are you so stupid?” Seifer sneered, voice low and dangerous.

Those words surprised Squall, who straightened and peered into those green eyes with suspicion.

“Why, then, if not to justify your stay?”

Seifer’s gaze was intent as he considered his answer. He looked at the man before him, the one he’d accepted to work for so that he could see those shadows disappear from under his eyes, to see some energy back into his features. He’d been the Sorceress’ Knight. Switching to Hero’s Knight wasn’t so different. And Squall needed the help, needed to be rewarded for the efforts he put into running this place.

He had many words he could say, sentences, sarcasm, but for once he preferred speaking through gestures. Raising one hand from where it was resting on the desk, Seifer grabbed Squall’s collar and dragged him roughly upwards to kiss the living lights out of him.

Squall started back from the unexpected gesture, reflexes acting more than will, but Seifer’s hold held him in place. The blond man was waiting for the hit, the push, anything but the sudden return of passion as Squall opened his mouth and kissed back.

They were both breathless when they broke apart, and both still angry.

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily,” Seifer growled, his face still so close that his lips brushed together as he spoke.

“Why?” was Squall’s only question as his narrowed eyes stared into Seifer’s, as if he meant to pry into his very soul.

“I though that was obvious.” Seifer kissed him again for good measures, bruising, eager. Four months. Four months in which he’d grown a love for his Commander, four months in which he’d decided to become his Knight.

“Be serious,” Squall whispered hoarsely when he pulled back.

“I am, fuck I am,” Seifer replied hotly. “Don’t ever try driving me out again.”

Squall stared at him for a moment, making sure he was as serious as he pretended, that he wasn’t being fooled. He was the one to initiate the kiss this time.

“I won’t.” Not now that he knew that his love was returned. That he was sure that he’d be allowed to show it. Hiding it had driven him crazy, enough that he’d wanted Seifer out before he did something he might regret.

“Good.” Seifer released his collar to let his hand wander to his neck, closing the small distance to steal another, softer kiss. “Every hero needs his knight.”

Squall muttered something in the kiss, something that might have been a denial or an argument, but Seifer didn’t care enough to break the kiss and ask. No matter what Squall said or wanted or how many times he denied it, he was a hero. Defeating the Sorceress was the easy reason, but just being who he was, strong and devoted, was all the excuse Seifer needed.

On his part, as he leaned into the kiss, finding the desk between them very annoying, Squall thought it was rather the contrary. Without Seifer, he’d have had a breakdown -or worse- long ago. As corny as it sounded, he was his own personal hero.

It was those words that Squall muttered as they kissed, and he didn’t care if they weren’t understood. He had all the time in the world.

Fin