Figured You Out

BY : tashabot
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 522
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

A sleazy bar. Just like last time.

We really need to quit meeting up like this.

I like your pants around your feet

I like the dirt that's on your knees

I like way way you still say please

When you're lookin' up at me

It's been, what, seven years since the Sorcoress War? We were over even before that. Yet why do I continue?

He's married, for Shiva's sake. I keep telling myself this is wrong, he has kids.

You're like my favorite damn disease

I put a cigarette out on the bar. The bartender doesn't even notice.

I love the places that we go

I love the people that you know

I eye the clock, wondering if this time he's not going to show up. Next time, I tell myself, when he calls I'll tell him it's over.

I love the way you can't say no

Too many long lines in a row

I love the powder on your nose

Next time. Hah. I told myself that last time, and yet, here I am, in another bar in a different part of the world, wondering what the hell I'm doing here waiting for a man I loved years ago.

A married man.

And now I know who you are

It wasn't that hard

I brush a strand of hair out of my face. Blond. Heh. I need a haircut. I've been wearing my hair in my face since then; maybe in tribute to him, possibly just because hair gel is an extra I can do without.

I look up. In another minute, he'll be late. He's never late. He'll be here soon.

Just to figure you out

I look over in tto sto see him walk through the door of the bar. No one looks up. The guy who saved the world should get a few glances occasionally, but not in this bar. That's why we always meet up in places like this.

He sits next to me and orders something. For a moment I forget that we're both old enough to be in here now; I look like I've gotten older, but he still looks like a seventeenr olr old boy. Maybe that's why I continue this. Maybe. Because he still looks like he did back then, back when he was mine.

And now I know who you are

It wasn't that hard

Just to figure you out

"Seifer." He says, not looking at me. The bartender slides his drink in front of him, and irritated at his apparent lack of happiness, I light another cigarette. I know he hates it when I smoke; he always used to bitch at me about it.

"Squall." I take a drag, and exhale through my nose. Sometimes I really hate myself. This was one of those times. He was cringing, leaning away from me as I smoked.

"Could you put that out?"

I like the freckles on your chest

I like the way you like me best

I sigh and crush it out on the bar. We finish our drinks sta stand up, heading towards the stairs. I'd already gotten the room, as usual. I was always there first anyway; it had become routine over the past couple of years.

He's weg hig his normalup tup today; not his old clothes from the War, but regular leather pants and a white Tshirt. I'm walking behind him, and I have to say, it makes him look incredibly sexy. Rinoa's a lucky girl.

Hell, I'm a lucky guy.

I like the way you're not impressed

While you put me to the test

I like the wine stains on your dress

His detached personality changes every time we pass the threshold. Every damn time. I close the door behind us and suddenly he's pressed up against me, kissing me, completely disregarding the fact that I taste like the cigarette I put out notn fin five minutes ago. And I let him.

His hands slide up my shirt, and I gasp around his tongue. His lips turn up into a slightly wicked-looking grin. We part, and he tugs at the fastening to my jeans.

I love the way you pass the check

I love the good times that you wreck

I untuck his shirt and pull it over his , tu, tucking my conscience away for another time. All I need right now is this; this stupid little thing that I gave up so long ago, and yet I still need it, so many years later. A brief thought passes through my mind; I wonder how old his daughter is now. But it leaves and I continue disrobing him, almost feverishly.

I love your lack of self-respect

While you're passed out on dec deck

I love my hands around your neck

He turns and pushes me down on the bed; this doesn't surprise me, it's routine, like I said. He climbs on top of me, pressing hot kisses to my neck as he unbuttons the shirt I'm wearing. I gasp.

Clothes fly everywhere. That's routine too. I think the longest we've gone clothed together may be something akin to two minutes. He always gets down to business.

And now I know who you are

It wasn't that hard

Just to figure you out

His hands are flying now; I'm almost stunned. He's never this feverish, this violent, this hurried. Squall Leonhart is the cool, calm, collected center of his own universe; a universe which just so happens to involve fucking Seifer Almasy about once or twice a month.

And now I know who you are

It wasn't that hard

Just to figure you out

I can sense that this time is different now. I don't say anything. He presses kisses on my neck, my shoulders, my chest, pulling my boxers off of me. I moan slightly as he pulls the tip of my penis into his mouth. Definitely different this time. That never, ever, ever happens. Ever.

There's a flurry of movement and my ankles are on his shoulders. He looks at me for a second, blinking. I look away, and he slides into me.

Sometimes I wonder if this is why I agree to these little meetings. When he throws his head back like that, he looks just like he used to when I was the one doing the fucking; when we were still students at the Garden.

I like your pants around your feet

I like the dirt that's on your knees

Sweat. We smell, I believe, predominantly of sweat. There isn't much you can hear, either. We aren't lovers, Squall and I; lovers whisper to each other, little comments of devotion and love, while they're doing what we do. All you can hear when we meet is groans, moans, and the slapping sound of sex.

I like the way you still pleaplease

While you're looking up at me

You're like my favorite damn disease

I can feel his silver-blue eyes on me as he grinds his hips into my. I . I don't look up, instead closing my eyes and clutching at the blanket below me. My head bangs against the fake headboard; one of those really lame ones that's really stuck on the wall, instead of on the bed. I ignore i

I hate the places that we go

I hate the people that you know

I hate the way you can't say no

"Fuck." He mutters, pushing harder. A word. Definitely different this time. I hear a moan escape from my lips; no matter what I think to myself, there's no denying how good this feels, and how much I love it. My back arches in my final ascent to extacy; I can hear him murmuring something as he comes. I feel a white-hot heat spread through my body, and suddenly it's over; there's warm liquid spilling down my stomach, I'm pag ong on the bed.

Too manng lng lines in a row

I hate the powder on your nose

I lay there for a second. He doesn't move either, leaning with his head resting on my knee. He looks exhausted; mortally tired, even. I frown. He's always maintained that youthful exhuberance. I don't like to think about him getting old. It bothers me, takes me further from our past.

When he looks up, I can tell that this is going to be the last of these meetings. I'm not going to have to tell him; he's going to make the decision for me. I close my eyes. Part of me wants to cry; the other part of me rejoices.

He rolls off of me and lands to my side. I can feel him watching me. I don't open my eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says, looking away. He sounds almost embarassed. "I lost control."

"Nah." I wave him off, eyes still closed, stubbornly, as if I can take the news better if I don't have to see him.

And now I know who you are

It wasn't that hard

Just to figure you out

"Seifer, look at me." Slowly, I open one eye and peer out at him. He's looking at me with a look of complete seriousness on his face. This is it.

"Rinoa and I are getting a separation." I blink. Not what I expected, not at all.

I stare at him with a dumbfounded look on my face. "Can I ask why?"

He smiles. "Turns out we're in love with the same person."

I frown.

He kisses me. This kiss lacks the passion from before; it's sweet, gentle. I haven't been kissed like that since when we were first together.

Blue-grey eyes stare at me as I dress. We go back downstairs, order another drink. I don't light another cigarette. He doesn't like them. I guess I'll have to quit now.

Aow Iow I know who you are

It wasn't that hard

Just to figure you out


Lyrics to "Figured You Out" belong entirely to Nickelback. Final Fantasy Eight? That's all Squaresoft, baby.

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