Mind Games

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Daylight was only a faint purple glow on the horizon as Zell trudged up the stairs to the train station, a bookbag slung over one shoulder and his duffel thumping up the steps behind him. He had never been one to make a habit of sleeping late - and indeed, lately he hadn’t been making a habit of sleeping much at all - but it was still too damn early to be up and about. Why they had to leave so bloody early in the morning was beyond him. The station was completely empty as he traipsed inside save for the sleepy-looking attendant near the doorway, to whom he handed his ticket, fighting back a yawn. He then plodded over to a nearby bench and slumped down in the seat, dropping his two bags on the floor beside him, and he let out a quiet groan.

It was nearly a half hour still until departure, so there was no need to board the train just yet, and Zell, entertaining a vague sort of hope that by doing so he could somehow deny what was about to take place, was quite happy to put off leaving for as long as he possibly could. He sagged in his seat, feeling weary - he had been up most of the night, and most of the past few nights, as well, tossing and turning with anxiety and unable to stop wondering just what the hell Seifer was really up to... as well as with other thoughts; but those were best not dwelt on in a public place. After a great deal of contemplating, he had decided that the best course of action would be to simply ask Seifer straight out the questions he wanted answered: what were the gunblader’s intentions toward Zell, and what did he hope to gain by making people think that they were sleeping together? Surely nothing good could come of that; if he was out to trash Zell’s reputation, he must have known that he’d be taking himself down as well. But maybe he just didn’t care anymore what consequences came of his actions - or, yet, maybe his aim was to get kicked out of Garden once and for all; that seemed like the sort of thing Seifer would do, instead of resigning peacefully, to go out with a bang and take as many others with him as he could. And since Zell was the only one of their old group that he could reasonably get at, and considering their less-than-peaceful history together, it was no surprise that Seifer would go after him. But if that was the case, if his intention was to go out in style, why do it in a method so disgraceful to his own reputation? Unless simply for the satisfaction of completely ruining Zell, which was something he certainly wouldn’t put past Seifer.

He had given some thought to the conversation between Miri and himself a few days earlier, and the couple of points she’d made on the topic of Seifer’s psychological state which, although he’d been too angry and flustered at the time to give any credibility to them, as he considered more and more, became increasingly plausible. Maybe it was as simple as Seifer was lonely, nostalgic for the days when he was just Garden’s resident jackass, rather than the evil world-conquering demonic ex-sorceress-knight that most of the world still imagined when they thought of him - although Zell had to wonder if four years hadn’t been enough to dim people’s memories on that subject. The people he encountered every day at Garden treated him like dirt, Zell suspected, because Seifer encouraged them to; he was anti-social and provocative, and he made no effort to act like he wanted anyone’s approval. Zell, for his part, was inclined to think that there were plenty of people who would be willing to get along with Seifer if only he would meet them halfway. He wasn’t all bad, Seifer; he just like to appear that way. Zell could even believe there was some good in there somewhere, even if he had never personally witnessed anything to prove its existence.

Did I just defend him to myself? he thought suddenly, heaving a dramatic sigh to complement the mood. Things were getting bad when he couldn’t even keep his own opinions on the matter straight, and this wasn’t the first time he’d caught himself defending his own thoughts. Hell, how was he supposed to get the truth out of Seifer when he couldn’t even get the truth out of himself? He was no longer in denial; the fact that he was attracted to Seifer - however unnatural and irrational such an attraction must be - couldn’t be ignored, although more often than not he couldn’t decide whether he wanted more to kill the gunblader or kiss him. There were times when Seifer’s company was tolerable - when he wasn’t going out of his way to provoke Zell, he could be almost pleasant; and there was no denying that he had a sort of charisma, that he could be irresistibly charming when he had a mind to be. Seifer’s antagonism Zell could deal with easily by simply being antagonistic right back, but when Seifer was being agreeable, it made it very difficult for Zell to retain his hostility, something which he was determined to do; because if he didn’t have hostility toward Seifer, all that he would have is lust, and such a situation could only spell trouble.

No, that wasn’t quite all of it, he had to admit to himself, albeit grudgingly. There were times when he almost enjoyed Seifer’s company - times when he found himself thinking that if only the other man were so amiable all the time, Zell would rather like him. And one thing he was quite determined not to do was like Seifer. That was a sure road to self-destruction.

Not that it matters much at this point, Zell thought morosely to himself, I was pretty much doomed from the moment I started thinking he was sexy.

The clock above the entrance to the station chimed a quarter to six, jarring Zell out of his thoughts for the moment. He stood up and stretched, feeling restless and wondering how he was ever going to stand the six-hour train ride ahead of him locked in a compartment with Seifer, let alone a whole month in Galbadia. And speak of the devil... there was the man himself, lurking on the steps just outside; he was leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, facing the other way, and for a minute, Zell just watched him, his profile silhouetted by the muted, grayish glow of dawn. He really was extraordinarily handsome; and even in the way he carried himself, there was a sort of understated elegance - a dignity that even all the abuse he had taken over the past few years couldn’t dull. He acted arrogant, Zell suspected, simply for the sake of pissing people off, but it wasn’t as thought he didn’t have plenty to be proud of - he was good-looking, clever, strong; he could be quite witty when the mood took him, although he wouldn’t stand to be laughed at himself; and when he needed to be, he was devastatingly charming. Asocial behavior aside, Seifer was quite a catch - or would be for any girl, that is; Zell had to remind himself that he was not trying to catch anyone... he was just thinking, and there was no harm in that, right?

“The hell are you staring at, chicken-wuss?” Seifer growled as he shuffled inside, yanking irritably on his suitcase as a wheel caught on the lip of the stairs, and he thrust his boarding ticket at the attendant, who gave him a rather dirty look but said nothing in the face of this churlishness.

“Gee, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Zell muttered in reply, but Seifer didn’t seem to hear, snatching the ticket stub back with a great deal of acrimony and stuffing it into the pocket of his trenchcoat, dragging himself over to the bench and slumping down on it. He looked tired, as though he too had got too little sleep, which made Zell feel a bit better himself. His hair was tousled, his appearance not as well-kept as he usually prided himself on being, and he looked quite sleepy - rather cute, Zell decided, though he took great pains not to show it on his face. Seifer’s eyes were shut and he looked to be dozing, but Zell wasn’t going to take any chances pissing him off so early in their trip.

“What a fuckin’ shitty hour to have to be up,” Seifer complained quietly, tilting his head back and rubbing tired eyes. Zell snickered, sitting down next to him.

“You’re telling me.”

“How long is this fucking train ride going to be?”

“‘Bout six hours, I’m told,” Zell answered offhandedly. Seifer was quiet for a minute, and Zell stood again and began to pace when the silence started to make him sleepy.

“D’you mind cutting that out?” Seifer said sharply, cracking one eye just slightly to glare at the restless blonde.

“Well,” Zell pretended to think for a moment, continuing to pace. “Yes, I do mind it, actually.”

Both eyes opened, and Seifer stared for a few moments at the other man, as though trying to decide whether he thought Zell was actually being serious. “I apologize, Dincht, if that sounded like a request,” he said calmly, though there was an edge to his voice. “Because what I meant to say was, stop pacing and sit the fuck down before I have to hurt you.”

“I would love to see you try it,” Zell murmured mutinously, striding back and forth quickly in front of the bench, and although he hadn’t intended Seifer to hear that particular comment, the very pointed look he was getting from the gunblader made it clear he had heard well enough. If Seifer wanted a fight, Zell would certainly not hold back in giving him one; but the lack of real venom in Seifer’s threat made Zell think that he wasn’t truly looking for it, but that he was just being surly, which was a bit cute. Clearly Seifer was not a morning person. Zell made a mental note to remember that particular bit of information. Ignoring Seifer’s request, however, he went on pacing, his drowsiness having morphed into a restive anxiety with the ex-knight’s presence - honestly, a bit of action wouldn’t have gone unappreciated just at the moment, if only to work out some of the tension he couldn’t help feeling at such a close proximity to the other man. “Probably we ought to get on the train,” he noted with a shrug, watching disinterestedly as a few more people trickled into the station and boarded; it was just ten to six. In response to this suggestion, Seifer merely sighed, sinking down a little further in his seat.

“You do whatever you want. I’m sitting here a few more minutes,” he grumbled, looking distinctly unhappy. Zell shrugged again.

“Whatever, just don’t miss the train,” he said, gathering up his luggage.

“I won’t miss the bloody train.”

“What is wrong with you this morning?” Zell said with a half-chuckle, quickly fighting back the smirk that threatened to emerge at Seifer’s markedly disgruntled expression.

“It’s the bloody crack of dawn, that’s what,” the other man snapped, and then he seemed to compose himself. “And if you must know, I dislike trains.”

“You what?” Zell snickered, and even the sharp glare he received for showing such open amusement at Seifer’s confession could not quell the laughter that bubbled up; Seifer was just full of surprises this morning, wasn’t he? The other man gave a heavy sigh, clearly regretting having said anything, and he got to his feet.

“You’ll be laughing out the other side of your face if you don’t knock it off,” he threatened quietly, grabbing his suitcase and stalking away. Zell watched him as he boarded the train, smirking just a little - he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about seeing Seifer so bad-tempered early in the morning that made him feel a bit better about himself. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing he wasn’t the only one who was displeased with this situation. Despite whatever Seifer was up to, he couldn’t be happy about having to spend four weeks in Galbadia with Zell either.

He slung his bags over his shoulder and started toward the train, sighing as he resigned himself to the fate he knew lay before him - four long weeks of bad-tempered mornings, snarky comments, and of course the occasional fist fight or two, sexual tension bubbling just underneath the surface all the while. Lovely. He barely got two steps, however, before the sound of someone calling his name made him turn round again; Quistis was running up the steps to the station, looking wildly around, and when she spotted him, she beelined across the floor.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” She panted, clearly out of breath; she paused for a moment to catch it, tucking flyaway strands of golden hair out of her face.

“Quistis,” he said with a slight awkward pause, unsure of what to say. “Er... I’ve never seen you with your hair down, it looks lovely,” he offered clumsily.

“Don’t lie, we both know it looks like shite,” she replied huffily, sweeping the long, messy locks back over her shoulder and attempting to compose herself, standing up straight and smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt. She looked remarkably unkempt; her hair was not only loose but disheveled, her eyes were puffy and sleepy, and her outfit, a simple long-sleeved tee and jeans, was something more of slapdash than the precision look she normally exuded. Must be something in the air this morning, Zell thought blithely to himself, deciding not to comment on his colleague’s remark. Somewhat more coolly, she added, “I was afraid I was going to miss you. Whose clever idea was it to send you off so early?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Zell replied with a small chuckle; her tone had been distinctly piqued. “What’s the urgency, then?”

Quistis gave a quiet, exasperated sigh. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s rather important... Do you have time?”

“Yeah, a few minutes,” he said with a glance up at the clock; it was nearing six, but the trains from Balamb always ran a bit late, late enough, at least, to hear her out. That is, if she would get to the point - Quistis’ speeches could get maddeningly long-winded if she was in a mind to let them, and she certainly didn’t seem eager to get to it, looking around them nervously as though she were afraid of being overheard and hesitating a number of times before speaking at all.

“It’s about Seifer,” she said finally.

“Please tell me you’ve found someone else to send with me,” Zell cried, his heart leaping for a moment as he hoped. “Or better yet, you’re coming yourself!” But Quistis, with a rather bemused expression, shook her head to the negative, giving a lengthy pause before going on.

“I know it’s really none of my business,” she started out quickly, “But I just wanted to make sure you two are going to be... okay working together.” Another pause, and when Zell didn’t immediately answer, she added with emphasis, “You know?”

“We’ve never been okay working together, why should that change now?” Zell answered with a shrug, after spending a thoughtful few moments trying to figure out what she was on about this time. Quistis frowned deeply, pursing her lips as she contemplated this reply.

“Listen...” She started quietly, giving him a very conspiratorial look. “I know about the two of you, alright? I figured it out. I know.”

Zell blinked, a chill running down his spine. Whatever was coming, it smelled like bad news. “Sorry, you know what about us?”

“Don’t play dumb, Zell! I know all about it!” she snapped, startling Zell as well as herself, it seemed. She cleared her throat, and continued rather more evenly, “I know that the two of you are in love. So let’s just get to the point.”

So that was it. Zell gritted his teeth and forced a smile, trying not to think about just what he was going to do to Seifer as soon as he got a hold of the scheming bastard. As calmly as he could manage, he said, “We’re in love?”

Quistis visibly started, and then seemed to be mentally backtracking, stammering, “I mean, that is, you’re in a relationship. I know it,” she added, with the very firm voice of someone trying to convince themselves of something ridiculous. Zell took a deep breath to steady himself before he could reply to this outrageous accusation.

“You don’t know any such thing,” he said softly.

She blanched, looking uneasy - Zell hoped she couldn’t tell just how angry he really was. “I figured it out on my own, so don’t be angry with Seifer,” she said hesitantly.

“Oh, I’m angry with him, but not for the reason you think.”

“It’s not just that your fighting reflects badly on Garden,” Quistis continued, “But it’s dangerous, you know that - you can’t fight a common enemy if you’re always busy fighting each other,” she said matter-of-factly in her most pompous lecturing tone. Then she was pensive for a moment; Zell amused himself during the silence by trying to guess what subject she would touch upon next. “It’s not just that, I mean. Personally, that is... I’d really like to see you two work this out. I’m saying this as a friend,” she went on, as if trying to placate him, “Not as an instructor or as a SeeD. I know it must be hard, living in a place like Garden, but I promise that not a word of this will go past me. I only want to help,” she finally finished in a desperate sort of tone. Zell could only stare, silent.

She was too much, really. What kind of crap had Seifer been feeding her? “Quistis,” He began, but he didn’t even know how to go on.

“I just want you to be happy is all,” she said quickly, biting her lip in embarrassment as she looked him square in the eye.

“Quistis,” he said again with a sigh. “If you’ve got a point, you’d better get to it before my train leaves without me.”

She colored a bit, and her expression hardened. “Alright, then. Seifer is in love with you. What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I...?”

“What are you going to do about it,” she repeated, her tone steely, her face determined. It was less a question than a declaration, as if to say, “yes, I know all about you two; so what?” She cleared her throat delicately, and then went on, “If you’re in love with him, then you need to say so before you drive him off completely, and if you’re not, then... well, it’s not my place to tell you what to do, but you can’t keep going on as you are. Someone’s going to get hurt, if it hasn’t happened already.”

She stopped there, giving Zell a cautious glance to see how he would react to this accusation, and Zell was finding himself hard put to keep from laughing at the sheer absurdity of the idea. Quistis must have been truly starved for romance lately to have come up with something like this - to imagine that he and Seifer could be in love! Or worse, that Seifer was suffering from an unrequited love - the very thought was laughable. He was less angry now with Seifer, after hearing Quistis’ story - it was clear she had let her imagination run rampant; Seifer, even at his most sinister, would never have been able to concoct a story like that with any plausible amount of seriousness. But Zell knew that, though she rarely let it loose, Quistis had a fanciful side to her that was almost mindboggling in its wildness; all Seifer would have had to do is plant the seed in her mind and the rest would come naturally.

“Zell,” She said hesitantly, awaiting his reply.

“Did Seifer tell you all this?” He asked skeptically, smirking a little at her surprise at the question. She shook her head vigorously.

“No, I figured it all out on my own. He’s probably not even aware that I know.”

“We’re not in a relationship, Quistis,” Zell said, giving a significant pause to let her absorb it. She looked even more surprised at this remark.

“You mean you already...” She began gently, looking away from Zell. He sighed in frustration. Was she being deliberately thick?

“No, Quistis, there is no relationship, there never was, there never will be,” He said firmly, feeling exasperated. “Seifer is not in love with me, and we are not together. He was just taking the piss out because he likes to mess with people’s heads. D’you get it?”

She was very quiet for a moment, her eyes cast down as she mulled this bit of information over, and Zell waited, until they were both startled out of their respective reveries by the chiming of the clock to announce six. Zell looked around in a slight panic, but there were still a few people waiting in line to board the train, and even now a couple of late risers rushing into the station afraid to be left behind; he had time yet to get things settled with Quistis - and if he didn’t do it now, who knew what kinds of crazy things she might come up with during his absence?

“He was very convincing,” She said, but a hint of doubt had crept into her tone.

“Yeah, he’s quite an actor,” Zell replied wryly.

“Are you very sure he’s not in love with you?” Quistis prompted, her brow furrowed as she contemplated the issue, less abashed now and more pensive. Zell rolled his eyes, trying to convey what he hoped looked like incredulity.

“I think I would know if Seifer was in love with me!”

She didn’t speak again for a moment or two, and paused tentatively before replying, “Would you?” She seemed to be about to add something, but merely shrugged, and noted, “You just said yourself, he’s quite an actor.”

“Seifer is not in love with me,” Zell said adamantly, his good humor suddenly gone - for a nagging little voice was whispering in the back of his mind, but would you know? He shook it away, and went on decisively, “He’s intent on pissing me off, I don’t know why, I don’t know what I did to him. That’s all this is about.” He looked around, and hefted his bag over his shoulder, adding, “Look, I’ve got to catch my train, alright? But I’ll see you when I get back...”

“Those two nights,” Quistis interrupted sharply, a determined glint in her blue eyes. “The night of the graduation banquet, and the night of Rinoa’s party. He spent the night in your room,” she said, the statement half a question in itself. Zell faltered, lost for an answer. “Am I right?”

“That wasn’t...” He began. “He was drunk, and I let him sleep it off in my room. That’s all that was. When he found me drunk, he just returned the favor is all.”

“Then why lie about it?”

“Erm...” Zell grumbled, irritated; he hardly had time to stand around explaining every little thing to her right now, but she clearly wasn’t going to let it go until she got all the answers she wanted. Rather hurriedly, he said, “Listen, Seifer was afraid he was going to get kicked out if he got in any more trouble, so I covered for him. I felt sorry for him. He thinks you and Squall are out to get him or something.”

“Out to-?” She started huffily, clearly quite offended by the idea that Seifer would think so low of her, but her outrage was interrupted by a loud, sharp whistling; Zell looked round and the station was empty, the train boarded. Hoisting his bags up on his shoulder, he began to move toward the platform, walking backwards to face her as he waved.

“Sorry, Quistis, no time!” He called cheerily, in fact rather glad to have been given an excuse to cut off their conversation where it did; he had no idea how to answer some of the questions he knew she would eventually get around to asking. “Let’s talk about this when I get back, okay?”

“Zell!” She frowned deeply, trotting after him. “Now wait just a...! Are you certain-?” she started to ask, pausing as Zell turned to face her again, stopping in front of the train. Hesitating a moment, she looked him in the eye and finished but seriously, “Are you absolutely certain he’s not in love with you?”

“Absolutely,” He replied without missing a beat, flashing her a confident grin as he stepped up onto the train and the door slid shut behind him. She was watching him through the window, though, even as the train rolled away, not looking very convinced despite his self-assurance. Not until the station was shrinking in the distance out the window did Zell allow his smile to drop away. Why couldn’t she just believe him? Unless she knew something; something she wasn’t telling him. But what could she possibly know?

Well, there was one person Zell could think of that might have an idea; and lucky for him, he had a whole month to spend wheedling out the information he needed.

Seifer glanced up from the newspaper he was reading as Zell entered the compartment, flinging himself wearily onto the cushy seat opposite the other man - there was something to be said about SeeD benefits, at least. Seifer was frowning, and asked, “Where the hell have you been?”

“What do you care?” Zell snapped back. Seifer looked startled for a moment, as if he didn’t even know why he had asked the question himself, and then shrugged, going back to his paper.

“You’re right; I don’t.”

Zell laid back, settling into the cushions for a good long think, while Seifer mercifully continued to ignore him. It wouldn’t last long; as soon as Seifer was properly awake, Zell had no doubt he’d be back to his usual tactics, but he was grateful for the respite, however brief it might turn out to be. He needed the time to come up with a strategy. Confronting Seifer straight out was still the plan, of course, but where exactly to start? And how, if it was humanly possible, to get the upper hand? Maybe it would be better to launch a surprise attack now; catch Seifer off guard while he was still sleepy and unassuming, a phrase Zell would never have thought one could apply to the gunblader if not for the fact that he was clearly not a morning person, had admitted as much himself, and if it was a small advantage, Zell had to take what he could get.

He thought in circles for a while and fell into a doze; only when he jerked awake sometime later, startling himself out of the hazy half-dream he’d been having did he even realize he had fallen asleep. Sitting up quickly, he rubbed his face, trying to wake up, and looked around the compartment. Seifer was snickering behind his newspaper, but Zell didn’t engage him just yet. His mind wasn’t clear, still caught in the vague, confused dream he’d been having; something about sugar or milk in his tea. He stood and stretched, and then moved to the window, looking out at an endless stretch of greenery; if he had to guess, he’d say they were somewhere between Timber and Deling City, but that he would have slept that long was disconcerting, especially since the train must have pit stopped at Timber. Had he really been so tired lately?

“Have we passed through Timber already?” he turned to ask Seifer.

“‘Bout a half hour ago.”

“What,” Zell huffed under his breath, blinking a few times as he shook his head, trying to assemble his thoughts into some kind of coherent order. How was he supposed to verbally attack and outwit Seifer when his head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton balls? “I was sleeping?”

“If you weren’t sleeping, you might need to get that breathing problem checked out,” Seifer said, a smirk evident in his tone, though he didn’t look up from his paper; but the comment, though snarky, didn’t have that distinct bite to it that told Zell he was looking for a fight. Indeed, he seemed to want nothing more than to ignore the fact that Zell was even in the compartment with him, which, for no particular reason, irritated Zell a bit.

“How much longer to Deling City, then?” he asked next, returning to his seat.

Seifer gave an exasperated sort of sigh, sipping from a styrofoam cup and very pointedly not looking up at Zell. “Maybe three hours, I’d guess?” he murmured, twirling a pen in his fingers and then holding the newspaper against his knee to scribble something down. Zell frowned.

“What’s that? Coffee?” he asked. “Where’d you get that?”

“The drinks cart came round a while ago.”

“And you didn’t bother to wake me?” Zell mumbled grouchily.

“Do I look like your fucking nanny?” Seifer barked suddenly, scowling up at Zell over the top of his paper. “Go down the front of the train and get something yourself if you’re that desperate, or else sit down, shut up, and let me do my fucking crossword in peace. For fuck’s sake,” he said quietly to himself, almost as an afterthought. Zell, a bit startled by this sudden sharp command, did just that, and for the next few minutes merely sat hating himself a small bit for having so thoughtlessly yielded to Seifer’s surliness. He stared blankly out the window for a short while, watching the landscape rush by until it melted into a green blur.

“Are you in love with me, Seifer?” Zell asked next.

Seifer, who had been in the middle of writing something down, the paper balanced against his thigh, paused, giving a slight baffled frown, as though he wasn’t quite sure he had heard correctly. He seemed to be thinking about it for just a moment, and then he went back to his puzzle without even sparing Zell a glance. Zell waited for a minute or two, tapping his foot impatiently and trying to decide whether Seifer hadn’t heard him or was just trying to pretend he hadn’t.

“Oi, did you hear me?” he said.

“I heard you, I was just trying to ignore you,” was Seifer’s answer as he chewed contemplatively on the end of his pen, peering over the newspaper with a reflective sort of satisfaction.

“Don’t be an arse, just answer the question!” Zell growled lowly, but with less real venom than just plain irritation; a surprise attack had been his last desperate reach to try and catch Seifer off-guard, but Seifer was clearly not going to be had. The gunblader seemed to be ignoring him again, and Zell found himself growing annoyed. “Damnit, Almasy, don’t ignore me!”

“But it’s been working out so well for me up ‘til now.”

“Can’t you just answer a fucking question?”

“The question is ridiculous, and to be honest I’m a little offended by your asking it,” Seifer replied quite calmly, and then he frowned, and added with just a hint of amusement in his tone, “Where would you ever get the idea that I was in love with you?”

Zell shrugged, feeling suddenly very warm and somewhat antsy; he hopped out of his seat and began to pace agitatedly. “Quistis seemed to think that you were,” he answered. Seifer gave a muted sort of sigh, as if he had figured as much.

“Then she’s off her rocker.”

“Maybe,” Zell said sheepishly, “but you ain’t exactly doing a bang-up job of disproving her, are you?” He waited a moment, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, but Seifer’s only response to that statement was a derisive laugh. A thought occurred to Zell, and he went on casually, “seems to me like you’re avoiding the question, in fact.”

Throwing his paper down onto the seat next to him, Seifer finally looked up at Zell, his expression a cross between amusement and vexation. Finally, something gets to him, Zell thought to himself with a touch of triumph. “Have you completely lost the plot, Dincht?” the gunblader said in a low snarl, and Zell resisted the urge to smile.

“It’s a simple yes or no question,” he said innocently.

“It’s an absurd question,” Seifer said in a very final sort of tone, but Zell only smiled.

“Alright, then,” he said coolly, shrugging as though it didn’t matter. “I mean, that sounds like denial to me, but whatever.”

Seifer laughed quietly, taking up his crossword again with a maddening smirk. “If anyone in this compartment is in denial, Dincht, I’m sure it’s not me,” he said in a soft but deadly tone, and Zell stopped dead where he was pacing. Seifer was looking down at the paper and seemed entirely inclined to go back to ignoring Zell, as if he expected the martial artist to be satisfied with this reply. If he wasn’t acting surly, he was contemptuous; Zell couldn’t decide which he disliked more.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Zell said menacingly. Seifer’s only response to this was another derisive chuckle, and Zell found himself growing increasingly aggravated, although he knew it was probably Seifer’s aim to rile him up, and he was likely playing right into the gunblader’s hand as he went on angrily, “I fucking swear, Almasy, if you don’t let on, I’m gonna slug you-”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of a euphemism?” Seifer said coolly. Zell strode quickly across the small train compartment and stood directly in front of him, swatting the paper out of Seifer’s hand and onto the floor, snarling.

“Are you trying to start a fight?”

“Looks to me like you’re the one doing that,” Seifer replied, rising from his seat and pushing Zell away in one smooth, imperious movement; but Zell caught him by the front of his coat and yanked him in close, gnashing his teeth as a smirk broke out on Seifer’s face - as if he knew exactly what Zell was going to do and had been waiting for it.

“You think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?”

“If you wanted to get close to me, Zell,” Seifer breathed, leaning in further and flashing his teeth in a grin that could only be called seductive that made Zell’s heart skip a beat, “all you had to do was say-” He stopped short, nipping smartly to the side as Zell threw a punch that just barely went dodged, his knuckles skimming the gunblader’s cheekbone; he shifted his weight to turn the punch into a backhand, but Seifer caught him by the wrist and, using his own momentum against him, flipped Zell sideways, sending him careening into the side of the compartment.

He managed to push off the wall and regain his balance in time to spin around before Seifer reached him again, but he realized too late that he was in a corner; and the other SeeD was advancing, smiling as though he hadn’t a care in the world. His stance was deceptively casual, but Zell could see the hard line of tension running through his shoulders and arms - he was ready for action, if it came to that. And Zell was quite hoping that it did - at that moment, he would have loved nothing more in the world than to knock that smug grin off Seifer’s face. “This is getting a little old, Dincht,” Seifer drawled in a bored tone of voice, still smiling as he stepped closer.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Zell replied, darting forward with a quick jab to Seifer’s right side, but the other man was ready for him; he snatched the martial artist’s hand from the air before he could withdraw, stepping forward to back him into the corner.

“Your pretending, I mean,” Seifer elaborated in a tone quiet but dangerous. Zell felt his stomach flip at the sudden horrifying realization that Seifer could see right through him, as he always did; and he’s quite right, too, Zell thought sullenly to himself, I am totally in denial. There was no prevaricating around Seifer; he liked to play around and needle Zell up for amusement, but it was also clear that he knew, and had possibly known all along, what Zell was trying to hide with his gruffness and the constant quarreling, and he had probably just been playing along for fun. Knowing this only made Zell angrier, both at Seifer and at himself for having been duped into believing he could fool anybody with his behavior, but he didn’t yet make a move to escape Seifer’s clutches - not because he thought he couldn’t; even on a bad day he knew he was more than a match for Seifer in terms of skill - but because he had a feeling that the situation would only get worse before it got better if he tried to stop Seifer having his say, which the other man clearly intended to do. Besides, it wasn’t all bad being so close to Seifer - he was, after all, a very good-looking man.

A very good-looking man who’s probably right now thinking up ten different ways to murder me and tip the body out the train window, Zell thought bleakly, and he gave a little struggle, only to be pinned harder against the wall. Something was seriously wrong with him when Seifer was likely about to kill him, and all he could think about was how sexy the line of his collarbone was peeking over the edge of his shirt as he leaned forward. You’re one sick, messed-up kid, Zell Dincht, he thought to himself.

“D’you wanna let me go now?” he growled.

Seifer’s smirk grew, if possible, even more smug. “No, in fact... I don’t,” he answered, and then he gave a quiet laugh. “Besides, we both know that you could fight me off if you wanted.”

Zell hesitated for a moment, gritting his teeth as Seifer’s grip tightened around his wrist, the gunblader’s other hand pressing his shoulder against the wall. “For fuck’s sake, Almasy, you’ve had your fun-”

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” Seifer cut in, on his face an expression of nothing less that pure glee. Zell shot him the nastiest glare he could muster, but in response Seifer merely said, “not so angry anymore, are you?”

“If I didn’t think you’d got something planned, I’d knock your teeth into your brain,” Zell hissed.

“Plan? Me? What do you take me for?” Seifer fairly purred, and he was so close now that Zell could smell the dry, musky scent of his skin. “I don’t understand, Dincht, you weren’t nearly this reluctant last time...”

Zell shivered as a sharp claw of foreboding ran icily down his spine. This was it, whatever Seifer was after, it was coming - but he didn’t say anything for a moment; it was clear Seifer expected him to ask what that “last time” meant, but Zell wasn’t going to play along quite that easily. Instead, he said, as coolly as he could manage, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, you were very drunk,” Seifer replied offhandedly.

“You’re lying,” Zell spat without thinking, realizing belatedly that it was probably the worst answer he could have given as Seifer laughed lowly.

“I think you must be confused again, Dincht,” he said softly. “You see, the one who’s not telling the truth here is you.” He paused, evidently waiting for Zell to speak, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, and the silence stretched out agonizingly until Seifer spoke again, leaning in close over Zell’s shoulder. “I find it interesting that you’re not trying to fight me off,” he murmured into Zell’s ear.

“You’re such a prick,” Zell snarled, and he yanked his hand out of Seifer’s grasp to push the other man away; but before he had gotten more than a step or two away, the gunblader pulled him back, slamming his back against the wall and pinning him there with an arm over his chest, Seifer’s free hand on the back of his head, which Zell understood only too late was there to keep him from pulling away as Seifer moved in and covered Zell’s lips with his own. The kiss was so wholly unexpected that for a long moment, Zell simply froze, the fact that Seifer had kissed him - was still kissing him, and rather vigorously at that - eclipsed by the more pressing and much more baffling realization that it was good... no, it was more than that; it was amazing, so much better than he knew kissing someone he never ought to have been kissing should feel. But of course Seifer would be a magnificent kisser; and somehow Zell felt as if he’d known that all along.

His knees felt weak, and it was a minute or two before he realized that he’d stopped struggling, and that there was a tangible shift in dominance between Seifer and himself when he did - and that’s when Zell understood that the kiss was less a kiss than it was merely an extension of the skirmish they’d been having; it was a way for Seifer to catch him off-guard and, knowing that Zell was attracted to him, to use the younger man’s weakness against him. And boy, was he good at it. He reached up and twisted his fingers in Seifer’s hair, yanking hard enough to make Seifer draw back in surprise.

“The fuck’re you doing?!” Zell barked, but Seifer only grinned.

“Shut up,” he ordered, and pulled Zell in again. Slightly more prepared this time, Zell tried to fight back, but with his other arm pinned to the wall, there was little he could do outside of trying to jerk Seifer’s face away, which wasn’t very effective as long as Seifer still had a grip on the back of his neck and was holding them together. And truthfully, Zell didn’t entirely want to fight it off; the feeling of kissing Seifer was incredible, like nothing he’d ever known, and he had to remind himself that this was a fight, a battle for dominance, just to keep from losing himself in it. If he did, no doubt Seifer would find a million ways to lord it over him for the rest of what would most certainly be a miserable life. He curled his fingers tighter in Seifer’s hair, tugging cruelly to fight back against Seifer in the only meager way he could think to as coherent thought seemed to slip further and further from his grasp.

“Really, Dincht,” Seifer huffed as he pulled away, slipping his tongue from between Zell’s lips - and Zell was immensely relieved that he had just then; he was feeling distinctly week-kneed and he had a feeling that a few moments more and he might do something he would most certainly live to regret. “Hair-pulling? I mean, what the hell?”

Zell was trying to catch his breath in order to reply, when before he could speak the compartment door suddenly slid open, and they both spun round in surprise to see a very small, very old lady shuffling backward through the doorway with a large, cumbersome looking cart. She managed to pull it inside, and then spent a few moments wheeling it back and forth to get it facing the right way before she looked up and announced in a wavery voice, “drinks cart, can I get you anything, da...?”

She trailed off, staring at the two of them; Zell had to wonder if their position looked as suggestive as he thought it did - Seifer still pinning him against the wall, their bodies pressed together, his hand still tangled in Zell’s hair and Zell’s in his. Zell had not yet quite caught his breath, and he had a feeling his face must be flushed; he certainly felt hot enough. Seifer’s cheeks were only tinged with pink, but his lips were abused a deep, alluring red, glistening wet as he smirked still, and Zell had a brief moment of insanity as the desire to taste them again almost made him forget where he was. He wanted desperately to get away from Seifer, as far away as he could get, but he couldn’t quite seem to move yet, and the other man wasn’t budging either.

“Pardon me,” the old lady said in a weak voice, giving a slight sort of bow as she backed her cart out of the compartment. “I’ll just come back later,” she said, smiling nervously as she shut the door again.

Seifer snorted in laughter suddenly; and Zell, as if breaking out of a trance, leaped away from him, his pulse racing as he thought back on what had just happened. After a moment of contemplation, he concluded that no, he had not gone mad; he had really just spent a few minutes - a few glorious minutes - making out with Seifer. A few amazing, heated, abso-fucking-lutely insane minutes, and if he had the chance to do it again, he would in a heartbeat. Shit, I’ve gone off the deep end this time, he thought to himself.

Seifer was staring at him, grinning like the cat that got the cream, straightening his rumpled collar and brushing his hair back from his eyes. “What?” he said innocently.

“Arsehole!” Zell growled, striding forward and mercilessly driving his knee into Seifer’s stomach; the gunblader crumpled, clutching his gut, as Zell stormed away.

“Now was that really necessary?” he asked breathlessly.

Zell paused at the door, shooting Seifer a glare that could have frozen vodka as he snarled, “I’ll tell you what, if you think hair-pulling is a woman’s strop, just wait and see where I kick you the next time you pull this bullshit with me!”

He slammed the door shut and stalked away down the corridor, but not before he had heard Seifer laughing in response.

~

woops, sorry about that double-up! I tend to not get on here to check things as often as I should, so when I goof I usually don't catch it until someone points it out to me (thanks to those who did! :D)