Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Mind Games	By : danihouse Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 942 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or any of the characters represented in the story, and I make no profit from it.

Chapter List
- 1-Mind Games
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19.1
- 20-19.2
- 21-20
- 22-21
- 23-22
- 15
- 16
- 17
sorry for the uhh... three year lack of updates on this fic! I sort of forgot about this site. ooops. so anyway, have eight chapters at once! I'll be uploading them over the next few days.
I also post this fic at seiferzell.livejournal.com, with a lot more regularity. I'd recommend following it there rather than here.
~
“...So then I said, ‘Which do you prefer, chicken or fish?’” Dallia finished with a chirpy little laugh, and the whole group burst out laughing - even the General managed a rather thin smile, which surprised Seifer; he hadn’t thought Caraway’s face capable. But then, it had been a pretty funny joke - not something he could say about most of the conversations he’d been having at Dallia’s parties - he even allowed himself a chuckle, which earned him an arch eyebrow from the lady of the hour. She gave him a look as the group dispersed that he suspected meant he’d be facing an interrogation later, but even the thought of it didn’t bother him.
His good humor lately was more than likely the subject of her curiosity, but he was in too nice a mood to care. It was the sixteenth night of their stay in Deling City - just knowing that this horrid trip was more than half over was heartening enough... though admittedly, the second week had been a great deal more pleasant than the first. He’d made out with Zell no less than three more times this week, which brought the grand total to five since coming to Deling City, and that wasn’t even counting the incident on the train. This mission was, at least, turning out to be a personal success for Seifer, even if it wasn’t a professional one - try as they might, neither he nor Zell had seen the the merest sign of anything suspicious being plotted against Dallia... although Seifer was inclined to think that the complete lack of hostile behavior toward her was suspicious in itself, considering the fact that she was still pitching her Estharian Garden idea.
She was certainly living up to that famous - perhaps, infamous - charm of hers. The consternation caused by her Garden proposal appeared to have been completely and obtrusively forgotten by all parties involved - even the Trabian headmaster, whom Seifer had been afraid was on the verge of apoplexy at that lunch, he’d been so furious. To her own credit, Dallia had been quiet on the subject more than anyone, but Seifer had the feeling she was only regrouping; drawing in her claws and concentrating on her next plan of attack. To the casual eye, she appeared to have let it go, instead thoroughly engaged in her parties and the various entertainments she’d been providing for the top ring of Galbadian society for the past fortnight - just this week, Seifer had been to two luncheons, a tea, a movie premiere, and a day trip on a yacht, and to tell the truth, he was plain worn out; how anyone could sustain this kind of lifestyle day to day was beyond him. But at least they were free for the weekend, after tonight’s party, and Seifer fully planned to take advantage of the two whole days off to spend some quality time with Zell, providing the martial artist was amenable to the idea.
He was just working out the finer points of his game plan when someone approached, and he turned to find one of the last people he expected to see, to his pleasant surprise. “I won’t bother to ask what you’re plotting, since I’m sure you won’t tell me,” Fuujin began, standing calmly beside him as though she’d been there all the while. “But whatever it is, let me tell you, I don’t approve.”
“Why, hello, Fuu. How lovely to see you again. I’ve been very well, thanks for asking,” Seifer replied in a dry tone.
“Don’t be smart with me,” she replied.
“I won’t if you won’t,” he shot back. “Why is it that the first thing out of your mouth whenever you see me is an accusation?”
“Maybe if it wasn’t so ridiculously obvious that you’re up to something,” she said. Seifer scratched his chin, dropping his grin in in favor of a thoughtful frown.
“Oh,” he said. “Is it?”
“I could see your stupid smile from the other side of the room,” Fuujin remarked, but her tone was purely teasing, and she granted him with a tight smile that, to her credit, didn’t look nearly as grudgingly given as Seifer knew it was.
“So what are you doing here?”
“Working,” she replied with a sigh and a shrug, “always working. The official pretext is ‘promoting good relations between states’ or some such bullshit, but I’m pretty sure the real reason Squall sent me out here was to check up on your and your partner...” she trailed off, joining Seifer in watching said partner on the far side of the room, where Zell appeared to be telling a story to a small group of Galbadian SeeDs who were gradually moving ever away from his exuberant hand gestures.
“Hm,” was all Seifer said in response, knowing she was waiting for one. He played at silence for a good few minutes before she got fed up and turned to face him again, one fist raised as if she were about to deck him - possibly a subconscious action, but he took a step back in caution nonetheless.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Well what?”
“How are things... going?” she asked, her expression suggesting she was choosing her words with care. Seifer worded his answer with equal discretion.
“Oh, just as expected.”
“Just as Squall might have expected, or just as you did?”
Seifer chuckled - not that he was trying, but nothing went past her. “Probably some of both,” he answered, which was relatively true, but didn’t seem to assuage Fuujin’s suspicion any, and as well it shouldn’t; he certainly had been up to no good, and with some luck was going to be up to even less in the near future. He wasn’t, however, going to admit that to her. “Speaking of partners...”
She scoffed, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “Please, it’s not as though we’re a matched set. I’m on solo; I don’t know what he’s doing.”
Seifer only nodded, not failing to notice that his inquiry had annoyed her. “Fuujin,” he began again, turning to look properly at her - he didn’t know how he’d missed it before, but she was looking remarkably pretty tonight, and that certainly wasn’t a word he’d use liberally in regard to his friend; the last time someone had called Fuujin “pretty”, she’d nearly broken the offender’s leg with one of her kicks. A dark green velvet cocktail dress complimented her fair skin and fairer hair in just the right way, particularly in contrast with the striking colour of her eye; if it weren’t for the scowl on her face, which promised of violence as though she could read Seifer’s thoughts at the moment, he could almost see what Raijin had found in her to fall in love with.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, trying not to smile. “I was just thinking, you look rather lovely tonight.”
She scoffed again, but didn’t look nearly as offended as he had expected. “What, aren’t I allowed to get dolled up once in a while?” she replied back, even deigning to show an amused half-smile. Seifer was just marveling over that when, clearly not intending to give up the topic, she went on, “so, then... how are things going with Dincht?”
“Personally, or professionally?” Seifer said before he could censor himself; judging by the look she gave him next, which could have burned a hole through sheet metal, his sarcasm had gone unappreciated.
“I wasn’t aware you were making a distinction,” she said coolly.
“It was a joke.”
“The thing is, I can’t always tell these days,” she said, giving him the eye.
“If you really must know, Fuu, things are just about the same as they’ve always been. We don’t get on at all. It’s mostly fighting. Are you happy now?” he finished snippily, hoping his tone would hide the fact that he was blatantly lying - well, they were still fighting, that much was true, but things most certainly weren’t the same as they’d always been, and Seifer didn’t have a particular desire for them to be. Truth be told, he was rather enjoying the admittedly strange direction his relationship with Zell was taking, rocky though the path was - hey, the challenge was what made it fun. But he didn’t expect Fuujin to understand that. “And speaking of partners,” Seifer said again.
“We weren’t speaking of partners. We were speaking of your weird infatuation with Dincht.”
“In any case,” he went on, ignoring her choice of words, which he didn’t particularly like, but couldn’t exactly refute. “Do you know Raijin thinks he’s in love with you?”
“Of course I know. What do you take me for?” she scoffed, offended, evidently, by the indication that she wasn’t absolutely aware of everything that went on around her at all times. “Don’t think that changing the subject is just going to work like that.”
“I wasn’t trying to. I’m genuinely curious,” Seifer replied, a half-truth at least. “What are you going to do about it?”
Her expression crumpled with a displeased expression, and she turned to face him directly, casting a searching look over him. He wasn’t quite sure if she was going to answer him or not, but she merely waited for a few moments, her face pinched severely as she snatched up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. “What do you mean?” she said eventually, sipping her drink over an expression that suggested the glass may have been filled with arsenic. “What am I going to do? Why do I have to do anything?”
“Fuu?”
“Just because the great idiot thinks he’s in love with me, why does that make it my problem? It’s his issue,” she elaborated, her tone cold. “Until he does something about it to make it my problem, I don’t care. Why should I coddle him just because he’s got some ridiculous idea in his head?”
“Huh,” Seifer replied.
“‘Huh’. Is that all you have to say?”
“Well,” he said, “that’s pretty harsh, but I guess it’s just like you.”
“Thank you,” Fuujin said with a slight nod, though he hadn’t intended it as a compliment. “Now. Since we’ve got that out of the way, can we get back to you?”
“If we absolutely must,” he muttered.
She paused as a group of people passed close by, several of them nodding to Seifer, who managed to return the gesture with a neutral expression, despite the annoyance. Being here for three weeks was taking a toll on his social life; people were starting to be familiar with him. Fuujin noted this with a sadistic smile. “You’re making quite an impact on the Galbadian social scene.”
“I’ve got to wonder who thought Dincht and I would be a good undercover unit,” Seifer mused, not for the first time. “We’re both recognizable, aren’t we?”
“He might be okay if he weren’t so loud-mouthed,” his companion noted. “You... you’re just infamous.”
Despite her tone, the remark didn’t sound to Seifer like an insult, and he grinned. Her next comment, however, was entirely at the other end of the spectrum. “Are you in love with Dincht?”
“Am I what?” he sputtered, glad he hadn’t been holding a drink - he might have spit it out all over her. Of course, Fuujin had always been blunt, often to the point of rudeness, but she usually left his love life well alone (assuming she believed he had one, which he hadn’t for rather some time.) He gave her the same courtesy, though in honesty, her love life wasn’t something he could remember ever having given a thought to in all the years they’d known each other. Regardless, to come out and ask like that - she was trying to catch him off guard with her directness, and it had very nearly worked. He managed to retain his smile, and momentarily enjoyed the disquieting effect such a reaction was causing her.
“You heard me.”
“I can’t believe you asked me that.”
“You’re avoiding answering me,” she said.
“Because the question is so ridiculous as to border on insane,” he replied. To this, she responded with another smile, and Seifer felt an unpleasant chill.
“The fact that you’re avoiding is enough of an answer,” she said coolly, looking part amused and part incredulous, but at least not angry. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, and he didn’t speak for a minute, waiting for further response, but it seemed that was all he was to receive. He spent a few moments wondering over the fact that, after all the grief she had been giving him about bullying Zell lately, she apparently cared not at all that he had just as much as admitted he was in love with Zell. If anything, she looked as if she found it funny, which was somewhat bewildering.
She turned away again as a waiter passed by, depositing her empty glass on his tray and plucking two more up, one of which she handed to Seifer as she faced him again. “Not drinking?” she prompted a moment later, sipping her own.
“Aren’t you working?”
“Pssh,” she waved the comment away. “This is practically a holiday. I haven’t been out of Garden in two weeks,” she said in a tone that clearly spoke of the grudge she was still holding against whoever’s fault it was. Then, in a lighter tone, she added, “All I’ve got to do is report to Squall that you two haven’t killed each other yet. So far, so good, I think.”
“You’re becoming one of them,” Seifer remarked, biting back a smirk as she looked at him sharply. “Admit it. You’ve been forced to attend all these stupid parties and social events for so long that you like it. You’re a socialite.”
“I am not,” she replied, her tone sounding deeply offended, but her expression showing somewhat otherwise. If Seifer had to guess, he’d say she was only protesting for pride’s sake, but he wasn’t going to test her temper by running the idea by her. “I mean,” she continued with a huff, “I won’t say I entirely dislike it. There are worse things I could be doing as a SeeD...” she trailed off, casting a sideways glance over Seifer. Her look said it, even if she didn’t: she could be doing what he’d been doing for the past few years, which was essentially nothing at all. She and Raijin had come out of the war relatively well despite their enduring loyalty to him, due probably to their defection at Lunatic Pandora, but still there had been a lot of disapproving muttering when they fairly quickly went back to work at Garden, and to have got to the generally well-respected position she was in now was rather well done, Seifer had always thought. Certainly, the both of them had done a lot better than he had in five years (though, of course, attitude probably factored in there somewhere.)
“That’s true,” he said. “You could be working with Dincht.”
“Well, you seem to be enjoying it,” she shot back, quick as a whip.
Seifer smiled, taking a drink of his champagne. “You’re in an unusually good mood, I think.”
“Why is it unusual?”
“Considering how much shit you’ve been giving me about bullying Dincht-”
“That’s different,” she stated, giving him a rather annoyingly superior look. “If you’re just hassling him to be a jerk, then I certainly don’t approve. But, see, if you’re in love with Dincht-”
“Please, can you not say that out loud?” he interrupted, grimacing. “Ever again?”
“Alright, alright,” she agreed, and for a few moments, was silent. She seemed thoughtful, and then took a step closer to him, her voice low and secretive when she spoke again. “Look,” she said, in a quiet and almost sheepish tone, “I’m going to get sappy for just a moment here. I don’t know where in hell this...” she paused, making strange gestures with her hands, and then, evidently unable to come up with an appropriate word to describe just what “this” was, went on, “...this came from, and to be honest, it weirds me out a little. But you seem to be happy, and in the end, that’s all that really matters about it. You haven’t had enough happiness these past few years, and I certainly won’t begrudge you this small bit of it. Even if it is... strange,” she finished, her mouth pinched in distaste.
She moved back again, trying her best not to look embarrassed, while Seifer marveled over this declaration. Clearly she was trying to be supportive, and while he suspected that he might leave this conversation with bruises if he laughed, he couldn’t help smiling a little at her uncharacteristic chagrin. It was in weird times like this that he was reminded why Fuujin was his best friend. Forgoing the sarcasm that he usually relied on in awkward situations like this, he instead replied simply, with actual sincerity, “Thanks, Fuu. That’s awfully... considerate.”
“Well, now we’ve got that out of the way, let’s never speak of it again,” she said gruffly, drinking her champagne with a scowl. Seifer resisted the urge to give her a squeeze; he wasn’t often sentimental, but if anything brought it out in him, it was Fuujin being likewise. “Anyway, I think you’re wanted,” she added, nodding toward the other direction, from which Zell was approaching, looking slightly harried and a bit uneasy. Seifer straightened, pulling a blank face; he noted Fuujin doing the same. Luckily they had been speaking quietly, and Zell was too far away to have likely heard anything, but his agitated expression as he came up to them wasn’t exactly reassuring, either.
“Fuujin,” he greeted her somewhat curtly. “Wow, you look... very nice.”
“Why, thank you, Dincht.” She flashed him a smile so dazzling that both Seifer and Zell were speechless from momentary shock at the sight of it. Good grief, she’s charming him, Seifer thought, with an unpleasant feeling that such a thing could only end badly. Luckily, she excused herself from the two of them before Zell could recover enough to make a comment that would probably earn him a well-bruised shin.
“She feeling alright?” he asked, watching her walk away.
“What did you want, Dincht?”
“Oh, right,” Zell said, as if just remembering. “Have you seen Dallia?”
“What do you mean, have I seen her?” Seifer asked sharply, looking round the room. A quick scan of the crowd showed the guest of honor nowhere in attendance. “Shit, she was just here a second ago, wasn’t she?”
“I know, I turned my back for like a minute, and I don’t know where she’s gone,” Zell replied, huffing. “I’ve been round the whole room and she’s definitely not here. I thought you mighta known if she slipped out somewhere.”
“No,” Seifer said, now feeling aggravated. He had only, really, been keeping half an eye on Dallia, but trust her to vanish just as he had a lapse. Of course, he didn’t really think she was in danger or anything - more than likely she’d only ran off to the toilet or something, but if her husband noticed her gone and they weren’t on top of it, they’d never hear the end of it. “Where’s Caraway?”
“Occupied at the moment,” Zell said, gesturing toward the far side of the room, where the General was standing in conversation with a few equally grave and humorless-looking men. “But not for long, I’d say.”
“Alright, look,” Seifer sighed, taking a quick mental inventory of the room’s exits - the front door was well blocked by a hefty crowd of people; but in any case, if Dallia wanted to slip out, for whatever reason, she wasn’t going to use the main door; she’d be sneaky about it. He tried to remember the layout of the plaza. “You take the east wing corridor, and I’ll take the west. If Caraway asks you, she’s with me, got it?”
“Okay, sure,” Zell replied, though not without looking a bit peeved at Seifer giving him orders. He gave Seifer a long look, but wandered away after a moment, either not willing or realizing that this was the wrong place to take him up - which was fortunate, as Fuujin was still rather nearby, mingling with some other guests but not without one ear turned toward them; the last thing he needed was for her to overhear Zell lecturing him. The ammunition would last her weeks. She was trying to catch his eye as he subtly worked his way toward the exit, but he managed to evade her; he’d pay for it the next time they met, though, he was certain of that by the sly look she was giving him.
The corridor was empty when he reached it, and the couple of rooms he poked his head into down the way were likewise. He stopped halfway down the hall and gave a frustrated sigh, trying to formulate some kind of a plan. He didn’t have time to go searching every empty room in this stupid hotel. Besides, it was more likely that Dallia would be close; she wouldn’t want to stray too far from her party. Seifer tried to think. If it were him, where would he go to hide?
He stared blankly at the opposite wall, watching the gold brocade curtains fluttering in the breeze that was coming in from somewhere. Damn the woman anyway. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if she had skipped out just to lead him and Zell on a wild goose chase. It would be just like her; she seemed to find great amusement in toying with them, which was evident by this whole sorry scam of a mission they’d been sent on. He wondered bitterly if Squall had known what he was sending them into when he decided on Seifer for the assignment - maybe their fearless leader did have a sense of humor after all.
He went up and down the corridor again, feeling irritated. Dallia was nowhere to be seen, but he still didn’t want to rejoin the party in the ballroom just yet. Maybe Zell had found her - unlikely. He sighed, pacing shortly in front of the wide double windows, the wind pleasantly warm on the back of his neck. It was a nice change from the soul-suckingly hot Timber summer, which he hadn’t been at all disappointed to leave behind. Garden would be on its way back to Balamb by now; in two weeks, when he and Zell went back, it would be just coming on the end of summer - a great time to be in Balamb. Maybe he could wrangle some vacation time; just a week off would be enough, to lay on the beach, maybe do some fishing...
He leaned against the wall, just out of the breeze. There was a familiar smell in the air; something he couldn’t quite place, but made him feel nostalgic. It made him think of being a teenager again: stalking around with Fuujin and Raijin, enjoying the feeling of power as they exercised their authority over those smaller and weaker... or, in Zell’s case, those who merely looked smaller and weaker. Zell had been such an amusing contradiction - such a stickler for rules and regulations, yet so air-headed that he too often acted before he thought, which made him a perfect victim for Seifer’s Disciplinary Committee. Seifer smiled to himself. Perhaps he could get Zell to go on holiday with him...
He was halfway through a rather entertaining fantasy involving a deserted island and a very sand-caked Zell when his mind finally caught up with itself, and a thought occurred. He looked round. The hallway was utterly deserted; the only movement to be seen was that of the curtains as they swayed gently in the breeze that was coming through the slightly ajar patio doors, which were being held open with a small brick that Seifer imagined had come from somewhere outside. The curtains had been drawn so that the open door would be unnoticeable, unless of course there was a nice summer breeze coming through, just as there was. If it were him, where would he go to hide? Out on the balcony to sneak a smoke, of course - he grinned; perhaps Mrs. Caraway was not quite the pretty polished picture she made herself to be.
He went to the door and managed to slide through to the outside without Dallia hearing; her back was to him, which he thought was unwise of her. She was leaning against the balustrade with her chin resting on one hand, a cigarette in the other, staring out over the decorative pond that backed the hotel. “Slipping out of your own party for a fag?” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but still enough to startle her. “Not very good host of you, is it?”
“My goodness,” she said, recovering from her rather ungainly spin-around upon his announcement, and drawing herself up, making no effort to hide the cigarette in her hand. At least she knows when she’s caught out, Seifer thought. She gave him a wry smile, smoothing the front of her dress as she continued, “You’re very good, I must say. I was giving you five more minutes before you even noticed me gone.”
“You don’t put much stock by SeeDs, is that it?” he replied, making sure the brick was in place before letting the door swing away behind him. He moved toward the edge of the patio, leaning casually against the balustrade. She turned to face the pond again.
“Not so. I just happened to notice you were... distracted,” she said teasingly. Seifer didn’t deign to answer to that; they stood in silence for a minute or two, broken only by the quiet sound of Dallia smoking. “Join me?” she said, drawing to the end of her cigarette and pulling a pack out of her jewel-encrusted clutch bag. She lit a fresh one and then offered the pack to Seifer, who accepted, wondering how this moment could get any more surreal.
“Shouldn’t you get back to your party?” he asked, lighting up. She waved the remark right by.
“They won’t miss me. I’ll just have one more,” she declared.
“Your husband?”
“I left him chatting with some old war pals,” she said, showing her teeth in a grin. “By the time I get back to his side, he won’t have even noticed I’m missing.”
Seifer made no reply, but something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression, because Dallia’s smirk grew wider. “You don’t like me much at all, do you?”
“Well, since you’re asking, no, I don’t,” he answered after a moment, but looking away. There was no point in being coy; she wouldn’t have asked the question if she didn’t already know, and since his answer didn’t seem to bother her one way or the other, it wasn’t worth lingering on. She continued to smile, apparently nothing but amused by him.
“I wonder why that is,” she said next, but Seifer didn’t think she sounded particularly curious. Her tone, quiet and secretive, made him uneasy; she always spoke to him as though they were supposed to be sharing some kind of private joke, only he wasn’t playing along. Everyone he had watched her interact with over the past fortnight had been promptly and effortlessly charmed by her, and yet he couldn’t help thinking that she was only playing a game - toying with the lot of them, and allowing him to watch the spectacle from the sidelines.
“Do you?” he said, deciding to challenge her. She turned, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I thought you were sharper than that.”
Her smile thinned, and she settled back against the wall, one hand dangling over the edge of the railing, her cigarette perched between two slight fingers. “We’re too much alike, you and I, I think,” she said eventually, and he must have made a face, because she began to laugh, and for a moment seemed as if she couldn’t stop. “What an expression,” she said when she had calmed down, still grinning as she puffed on her cigarette. “You don’t agree?”
Seifer blew out a slow cloud of smoke, trying to read her expression. It wasn’t that he disagreed, but rather, he simply hated the idea of it; he wasn’t, however, planning to tell her that. As there were any number of things she could be referring to, he decided to play it safe and, feigning ignorance, replied, “not at all. I think we couldn’t be more different.”
“You’re quite wrong,” she said matter-of-factly, as though there could be no two ways about it. She didn’t go on, and Seifer spent the next few moments wondering if she was going to explain herself at all; but at length, finishing off her cigarette and tossing the stub out into the water with a deft flick of the wrist, she turned to address him again, amusement playing at the corners of her lips. “I’ll tell you what I mean,” she announced, opening her bag and rummaging through it. “We’re both confident people. We know exactly what we want, and just how to go about getting it.”
Again, he didn’t answer, drawing on the last of his cigarette, while Dallia pulled a tiny mirror and a tube of lipstick from her bag and began reapplying. Still not entirely sure what she was getting at, he finally replied, “I wouldn’t have put it that way.”
“No?”
“I think you’re just conniving,” he said. Dallia was still for a moment, and then she snapped her lipstick shut briskly, replacing it in her bag as she gave him a dubious look.
“I’m sorry, who’s calling whom conniving? Might I ask what’s going on with you and that partner of yours?” she shot back, flashing him a sparkly pink grin. Seifer blinked, feeling caught by surprise. They held a brief staring contest, which he sheepishly lost. Well, she wasn’t wrong - he’d been scheming against Zell for weeks, and it was purely stupid to have thought she wouldn’t notice, as astute as she was; and being the consummate sneak she was, she’d probably colored him as a peer right from the start. If she just wasn’t so damn annoying, I could rather like her, he thought privately.
“Fair point,” he admitted, refusing to turn away; she was still watching him with glee, her lips glimmering in the dim light.
“Oh, you’re just going to come out and admit it? How boring,” she gave a dramatic sign, shaking her head as if to say it was such a shame. “I was looking forward to having to trick it out of you.”
“And still claim not to be conniving,” he said coolly.
“I never said that. I just think it’s hypocritical of you not to admit you’re the same,” she twittered.
“Shouldn’t you be getting back now?” Seifer said by way of reply.
Dallia chuckled, clearly amused at such a weak attempt to steer the conversation. “But this is so much fun,” she said cheekily, giving him a secretive look. “I told Fury to request the best Garden could send, but I never dreamed I’d get such a pair as the two of you. It’s better than telly, watching you two. I’ll have to thank dear Squally for sending me such wonderful entertainment.”
She peered into her compact, arranging her hair with a contented smile, while Seifer spent a moment deciding just which bit of that he wanted to seize on. She’d just as well as admitted she’d hired SeeDs out as playmates, which was what he’d suspected all along. If Seifer had been almost close to liking her just a moment ago, he was well over it now. “You must be very well acquainted,” he said coolly, watching her fuss with a piece of fringe that refused to lay flat, making a moue of irritation into her mirror.
“What do you mean?”
“You and dear Squally,” he elaborated.
She paused, and then slowly shut her compact, giving him a sly sideways look, in reply to which he grinned. “Oh, don’t you give me that look,” she said peevishly, stuffing the mirror back down into her handbag. “It was simply a slip of the tongue.”
“I daresay.”
“In fact we’ve never met,” she explained, but the flash of annoyance was gone, and she seemed amused once more. A moment later, Seifer understood as she added, “but I have heard all about your amazing commander from Rin.”
“I see,” Seifer murmured, and then smirked. It was a relief to know he wasn’t the only one his ex-girlfriend had saddled with a humiliating nickname, though luckily for him, she hadn’t, at least as far as he knew, ever mentioned “Seify-weify” to anyone. He wasn’t certain which one of them had gotten off better.
“You mustn’t ever repeat that to anyone,” Dallia continued, but her expression was so patently lacking in remorse that he figured she was just saying it for the sake of discretion. “I can’t even believe I said it.”
“I can’t make any promises,” he answered.
“I mean it! Rinoa will murder me if she hears it. She’s a frightening girl,” Dallia added, almost as an afterthought. Seifer didn’t say anything in response to this, but his expression must have said enough, because she chuckled. “Have we a deal, then? You won’t mention my little slip of the tongue, and I’ll try not to have any more little slips, like, say, in front of your partner?”
Seifer gritted his teeth, trying to keep a neutral face. Conniving? She was downright unscrupulous. She had him by the throat now, and it was clear by her expression of glee that quite knew it. The best he could do by cutting his end of the “deal”, in any case, would be to embarrass Squall - which he was fully planning on doing anyway, make no mistake - meanwhile, Dallia potentially held his position at Garden, his very career in her petulant, petite, Basil Street lacquered claws - and worse, his carefully cultivated relationship with Zell, which no amount of seduction technique or sweet-talking would recover should she happen to whisper any little bits of information about Seifer’s scheming in the martial artist’s direction. She wasn’t threatening to rat him out to Zell as revenge for anything he might do to her first - no, she’d do it for no reason at all, for amusement, or just if the fancy took her. Seifer managed a smile as he remembered with full force just why he hated Dallia.
“Getting back?” he asked once more.
“We’d better, hadn’t we?” she agreed, but not without a huffy sigh, as though to say her fun had been spoiled. “I’ll head in first, shall I? Bit suss if we return together, I think.”
She inched the door open and peeked through, checking diligently up and down the hallway before declaring it safe for reentry and slipping back inside with all the ease of someone very accustomed to subterfuge. Seifer listened to the sound of her heels clicking on the marble down the corridor, and then it was quiet again. He resisted the urge to hit something with some effort - the only object nearby was a large stone planter in the rather gaudy shape of a dragon, and he didn’t much feel like returning to the party with bleeding knuckles. Didn’t much feel like returning at all, if it came down to it.
The woman was infuriating. Seifer had known some unpleasant women in his time (to make the understatement of the century,) but Dallia Caraway was rapidly climbing to the top of that list with all the finesse of a lifelong mountaineer. Of course, he hadn’t liked her from the start, but hadn’t then had a reason for such antipathy; after spending two weeks getting to know her, he had plenty of reasons now. He raked a hand through his hair, leaning against the balustrade and working to regain his cool - a task that was becoming increasingly more difficult the more time he spent with Dallia, but that was, at least, facilitated by the lack of her immediate presence. She really brought out the worst in him, that was certain. It wouldn’t be so bad, he reflected, if they could hate each other mutually; but she actually enjoyed knowing that she put him so on edge.
He stayed outside a few minutes more, longer than was probably wise - he knew he should be getting back to the party; Zell would be having fits across the ballroom seeing Dallia return without Seifer’s escort - but he needed to clear his head, which had been, these past weeks, decidedly muddy. It was all, he decided after a couple minutes’ thought on the subject, Zell’s fault. Seifer had spent his whole life, for the most part, being relatively clear-headed, except when it came to Zell. Well, I guess it’s okay, he thought to himself in conclusion, kicking the brick back across the patio and edging through the double doors, shutting them behind him and replacing the curtains so that nothing looked out of place. After all, he thought, grinning, he had a fair few ideas in mind for how Zell could go about making reparations some time...

If looks could kill, Seifer would be cold in his grave hours past; luckily, he managed to stay out of Zell’s way for the remainder of the party, though from the scathing glares he was getting from the other side of the room, he’d be in for a ripping earful when Zell caught up with him later. He wasn’t so fortunate, however, as to make it through the rest of the night avoiding Fuujin, as well; and though she kept to her word to not broach subjects uncomfortable, the look she was giving him was enough to assure him that he’d be thoroughly grilled on all aspects of his trip just as soon as he got back to Garden. “I’ll be in town until Sunday,” she said, pulling him into a corner for a private word as Dallia’s guests were beginning to filter out of the room. “Give me a ring if you’re not busy, and we’ll make a date or something.”
She really must have been feeling bad about being so mean to him up until now, Seifer decided, or she wouldn’t be acting so nice. “What are you doing here until Sunday? Hitting up the Deling City social scene some more, I imagine?”
She gave him a dirty look, but let the remark slide; she didn’t even hit him, which was a sure sign that she was feeling guilty about harping on him so much. “Hopefully not,” she said tersely, but despite this protest, her expression suggested she might not be exactly opposed should she happen to wander into another party during the course of the weekend. Seifer bit his tongue; he’d gotten away clean with one snarky comment, but he didn’t suppose he’d be so lucky as to pass another one by her. “I haven’t got any plans so far,” Fuujin continued. “To be honest, I think I’m only here so long as I am because Squall can’t justify two six hour train rides sending me here and back for just one evening. I’m calling it a short holiday, in any case.”
“Hm,” Seifer said. “Well, I’ll let you know if I’m free...”
He trailed off under the scrutinizing look she was casting over him. “You’re clearly not planning on being free,” she said, but her tone was less accusatory than it was amused.
“Like I said, I’ll let you know,” he repeated with a grin, and Fuujin made a face.
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll plan on seeing you back at Garden,” she announced, shaking her head and giving him a look that said why do I put up with you again? He merely smiled, and she turned to leave without replying, muttering mutinously under her breath, no doubt about him and his strange and unholy fascinations. In spite of this, Seifer had a sneaking suspicion that she was pleased for him, somewhere deep down, though she’d never admit it, and he wasn’t going to test her temper any more than he had already tonight by mentioning it. He watched her fondly as she walked away, hoping even more than he had been that he’d have something satisfactory to report to her upon his return in two weeks - after all, she had put an awful lot of work into being kind to him about the situation.
He waited until the last of the guests were filing out before leaving himself - the host and hostess were thankfully nowhere to be seen - and he caught up with Zell in the corridor outside, where the martial artist started in without delay, “where the hell were you?”
“Just chatting with Fuu.”
“Not that. I mean earlier,” Zell hissed, keeping his voice low, though the hall was all but deserted. “With Dallia. Where’d you find her?”
“Out on the balcony, getting some fresh air. Why are you so worked up?” Seifer replied.
“What were you two up to?”
He gave Zell a probing look. The other man was regarding him with a wary, suspicious look that Seifer couldn’t quite make out. Why was Zell so curious? “We weren’t up to anything,” he answered finally, trying to sound disdainful, and by Zell’s increasingly annoyed expression, succeeding in at least that. “She needed a break from her party. I found her outside, and she made me keep her company for a while. She was babbling on the whole time. Then we came back in.”
Zell didn’t look entirely convinced by this admittedly very simplified version of things. “Why was she givin’ me funny looks then?” he asked next.
“Cause you’re funny?” Seifer offered; this was evidently not the correct answer, as Zell’s expression darkened. “Look, what are you so worked up about?” he repeated. “I think the night as a whole went pretty well. No one got hurt, you didn’t even make a huge ass of yourself like usual-”
“Don’t you think this is all going too well?” Zell cut him off, not appearing to have heard. He paused, thoughtful, for a moment or two, while Seifer waited for an elaboration. At the sound of footsteps, they both turned, and Zell pulled him quickly down a dark side corridor until they were passed. “I mean,” he went on after some time, “after all that fuss about her stupid Garden idea, it’s like everyone’s completely forgotten already-”
“Oh, you noticed that too?” Seifer murmured, scratching his chin. So Zell wasn’t entirely susceptible to Dallia’s flirtatious charm? Or maybe he was just becoming used to her.
“I don’t know what she’s playing at,” Zell sighed, sounding perplexed. Seifer tried not to find it cute.
“‘Playing’ is the operative word,” he said shortly. “This is her idea of fun. She’s fucking us all around because she’s got nothing better to do.”
“You think she’d do that?”
“Pretty much told me so. It’s just a game to her,” Seifer muttered.
“Huh,” Zell said, and then grinned. “So that’s why you don’t like her. She’s beatin’ you at your own game-”
“What?” Seifer interrupted sharply, turning on the other man, who snickered.
“You’re two of a kind, aren’t you? You and your bloody head games. You know, this is fun,” Zell remarked with a smug, satisfied look, showing his teeth in a smirk. “Seein’ you finally get some of yours back-”
“You can shut up now,” Seifer cut in, taking a sudden step forward; Zell instinctively retreated, and his back hit the wall - a flash of alarm crossed his face; he seemed to only just realize that he and Seifer were in a very dark, secluded, and close space, and that Seifer was smoothly closing the small distance between them, with a grin that was in no way meant to hide his intentions. Zell held up a hand, which Seifer effortlessly pushed aside.
“Hey, now,” he began to protest, but trailed off.
“What?”
“Quit it,” he said, raising his hand again, and not showing much resistance when Seifer pushed it away again.
“Make me,” he fairly purred, watching with satisfaction as Zell’s face contorted in frustration, and knowing full well that the other man wouldn’t do anything. His protests were negligible at best, and getting weaker with each of Seifer’s advances. It wouldn’t be long at all before he gave up completely, Seifer figured (and hoped, more than he’d be willing to admit.)
“Anyone could come-”
“There’s no one here but you and me,” Seifer replied, dropping his voice to a whisper. The corridor around them was utterly silent, and he could hear Zell’s breathing quicken as he moved in, but there were no further protests. The martial artist yielded almost readily to Seifer’s kiss, pressing up against the taller man with eagerness; Seifer reciprocated by snaking an arm around him, placing his hand in the small of Zell’s back and pulling him in, eliminating the space between them. Zell made a breathy noise like a groan, which only spurred Seifer on; he took advantage of Zell’s parted lips to get some tongue action, until, a half minute later, as if suddenly coming to his senses, Zell pushed him off, glaring up at him in a way that Seifer assumed was supposed to seem fierce, but the effect of which was somewhat diminished by the flushed colour of his cheeks and the slightly dozy look on his face that Seifer was coming to recognize was satisfaction.
“I won’t tell you again to stop it-” Zell began, but Seifer cut him off mid-sentence.
“You weren’t complaining so much this morning,” he reminded the other man smugly. The light in the corridor was minimal, but he could still see the wash of red that blossomed over Zell’s cheeks at this reminder, the sight of which prompted flashbacks to that morning - Zell pink all over, fresh from the shower, all wet eyelashes and mussed hair and in just his jeans... and then having the nerve to act surprised when Seifer pounced on him, as if he hadn’t known just how damn good he looked.
Zell was scowling, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Almasy-”
“Zell,” Seifer interrupted again, drawing the other man’s name out long and slow and watching Zell swallow hard.
“I could hit you,” he said, raising a fist.
“So hit me,” Seifer challenged, dipping forward again and stealing Zell’s lips in a leisurely kiss, at the end of which the martial artist was beginning to look distinctly ruffled, in a way that Seifer quite liked.
“I will,” he murmured, his fist still raised, but not advancing anywhere toward Seifer’s jaw. His other hand was clutching Seifer’s tie - and wrinkling it beyond hope, Seifer imagined, but decided he didn’t much care - as if to pull him closer, but the space between them was already gone. He advanced again, catching Zell’s lips before he had time to turn his head away, and Zell’s fist dropped to his side uselessly as he arched up toward Seifer, pressing against him and not making any further attempt to fight him off.
When he broke off again, taking a moment to catch his breath - and gather his thoughts, which were becoming cloudy - Seifer had to smirk at the face Zell was making, which was that of total surrender. “Why don’t you just admit you want me?” he said in a low tone.
Zell’s expression shifted, and he cocked his head to look up at Seifer quizzically. “Oh, I see,” he said shortly, his smile growing tight; if Seifer had been thinking with his brain at the moment, he might have recognized this sudden change in temperament as the warning sign that it was, instead of being caught by surprise moments later as he was thrown back by the force of the punch Zell landed squarely in his chest. “That what this is all about, huh?” Zell snarled with a fearsome grin, before his next hit caught Seifer directly in the eye, and he went down hard, seeing stars. The opposite wall cut his downward trajectory short, knocking the breath out of him as he landed on his arse, while Zell watched with a coldly satisfied expression; the state of wanton abandon he’d been in not a minute ago had vanished without a trace.
“I warned you what would happen if you tried to fuck me around again,” he said coolly. Seifer rose gingerly to his feet, keeping a wary distance; he was about to protest, but the dangerous look on Zell’s face stopped him short. If he wasn’t careful, the other man might just make good on the threat he’d made in the train car, and Seifer didn’t much relish the thought of being kicked in the balls, on top of a black eye. Not that he had much idea of what he would even say, given the chance - Zell had entirely misunderstood what Seifer was getting at, but he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that without revealing rather too much of himself at the moment. “Man, you are such a dick,” Zell muttered, as if to himself but his voice was loud and clear enough that it was obvious he wasn’t taking pains to keep Seifer from hearing.
“Zell-” Seifer began, but was cut off.
“Shut up,” Zell snapped, scowling as he turned away. “I’m leaving.” He poked his head out into the main corridor, evidently found it vacant to his satisfaction, and walked away, grumbling bad-humouredly under his breath; Seifer didn’t need to be able to hear what he was saying to know what was the subject of the martial artist’s discontented grousing. He had half a mind to run after Zell anyway, but after a moment’s thought, he dismissed the idea - he wasn’t quite that desperate yet, and anyway, he’d probably only get another fist in the face as a reward. Better to let Zell cool off for a while, and then, perhaps, tackle the issue in the morning with a plan - although that meant another night of sleeping on that blasted couch, which Seifer was not looking forward to. He sighed, rubbing his eye, which was aching already and would probably be ugly by the time he got back to the hotel, and resigned himself to another night of backache and bad sleep - with some luck, and some tactful explanation in the morning, it might just be his last.
He grinned to himself, despite the pain. Yes, he might have lost this battle, but the war would yet be his...
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Mind Games