Are You Game?

Title: The Epic Quest of Forgiveness and Forgetness
Author: Melissa Grey
Prompt: Final Fantasy VIII, Seifer/Zell: reunited - "Funny meeting you here, asshole."
Rating: PG (for now)
Warnings: Lynyrd Skynyrd, Final Fantasy style.  Drunk Selphie.
Word Count (thus far): 1513
A/N: This is the PG version.  There will be a NSFW version in the future.  I wasn't planning on writing it, but now I can't help it.  Damn little plot sex bunnies.


Seifer knew coming here had been a bad idea.  As he stared down at the familiar blonde - honestly, how much gel could one head hold - he knew coming here had a been a gloriously bad idea. 

"Funny meeting you here, asshole," Zell said.  They were both standing in line to use the john at the diviest bar in Balamb.  It was called Cheap Shots for a reason. 

"Right back at you, Chicken Wuss," he countered.  The familiarity of their back and forth was almost comforting. 

"Oh, hi, are we twelve?" Zell shot back. 

"Evidently as some things never change.  How's life at five feet treating you?"  Seifer made a show of waving his hand in the air separating the distance between his head and Zell's.  This was a jab that would never get old. 

"Ha.  Ha.  You know, those jokes got old sometime post-puberty.  Not that you would know what that's like," Zell said, standing his ground though the line inched forward, "What the hell are you even doing here?  This is Selphie's birthday party.  No pets, no outside beverages, no ex-nemesises."

"It's ex-nemeses and Selphie invited me," he said.  The words sounded wrong even to his ears. 

Zell threw back his head and laughed.  It was a good laugh, the kind that started in the belly and worked its way up - the kind that only erupted when you heard something really, uproariously funny.  Seifer guessed the joke was on him.  Coming here had been such a bad idea.  When mocking Zell lost its flavor, he knew he was in trouble. 

"You know what, you're right," he said.  Zell's laughter died down slowly.  He continued, "I don't belong here.  Not at Selphie's party.  Not with these people.  And especialy, not with you.  I don't even know why I bothered.  I'll always be the arch-nemesis, the guy who tried to kill everybody, the fuck-up.  No matter what I do or what I say, it's never going to be good enough, is it?"

He turned to leave, but Zell grabbed his arm.  He could feel the pressure Zell was applying to get him to face him but he refused to turn around and the othey boy wasn't strong enough to force him.  Though he'd never admit it out loud, he knew he couldn't take Zell in a fair hand to hand fight, but in this narrow hallway, he could use his size to his advantage. 

"Is that what you think?"  Zell asked. The laughter had fled his voice.

"Isn't that what you think?" Seifer replied, eyes fixed on the wall. 

Zell dropped his hand, opening the door for Seifer to leave.  He didn't.

"To be honest, no.  I mean, you're kind of annoying with the whole Chicken Wuss thing and the making fun of my stature thing and the being really impossibly tall thing and the rampant superiority which I suspect might be a front for a squishy vulnerability within but no.  No, I don't think," Zell said.  Seifer couldn't help but turn to Zell, who was standing there, blinking as though he couldn't believe what he'd just said.  He supposed that made two of them. 

"A squishy vulnerability?  Zell, there is absolutely nothing about me that's squishy," Seifer said.  Zell shrugged.

"I don't know, man.  After getting my memories back, I'm finding it kind of hard to hate you."

Seifer had had similar pangs of a nostalgia he hadn't want to claim.  He'd mentioned it to Fuujin but it wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd share with Zell or Squall or Selphie or any of them.  Not after every fucked up choice he'd made, every life he tried to ruin, every wound he'd inflicted. 

"Really?"  He couldn't help but ask.

"Really," Zell said.  The rest of the queue had come and gone, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.  Zell looked at the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  Seifer considered a spot on the wall above Zell's blonde spikes with more intensity than it deserved.  He felt like he'd just been on a rollercoaster held together by tired banter and flimsy truths.  In less than ten minutes, he'd gone from familiar territory - asshole, Chicken Wuss - to someplace completely unchartered.  They'd both let loose a rush of words, most likely lubricated by the open bar and now it was like they'd run out of fuel.  He wasn't sure where to go next so he went nowhere.

"What did you mean by that?"  Zell asked.  His eyes were still pointed decidedly downwards.

"Mean by what?" Seifer kept his eyes on the wall.  Apparently, they were capable of agreeing on this one thing.

"You said espeically not with me.  What did you mean by that?"  Seifer could feel Zell's gaze rise.  Seifer supposed Zell was marginally braver than he.  Seifer added this basic truth to the list of things he would never admit out loud. 

"I don't know."  It was all he had and he knew it wasn't enough. 

Through his peripheral vision, he could see Zell cock his head to the side.  He was quiet for a moment longer before reaching out to take Seifer's hand. 

"I think I have an idea," Zell said, pulling Seifer toward the bathroom door.  His other hand reached to open the door, pausing long enough to ask the question with his eyes. 

"Um, okay," Seifer said, following Zell into the impossibly small, impossibly dark room.  Coming here had been a bad idea, but maybe it hadn't been his worst. 

---

"Sweet home Bala-amb . . . where the skies are so blue," Selphie crooned, waving her bottle of Cheap Shots' finest whiskey in salute.

"Selphie, please get off the bar.  Please," Irvine said, grabbing uselessly at her ankles.  The bartender reached up and snagged the whiskey bottle from her hands.  Selphie danced on, vaguely aware of kicking a shot glass off the bar. 

"You shush, Irvine Kinneas.  It's my party and I'll dance on the bar if I want to," Selphie said, wriggling her hips for emphasis.  Irvine quirked an eyebrow. 

Like a wraith, Rinoa appeared at Irvine's elbow, looking up at Selphie. 

"Hey Rinoa.  Hey, everyone, it's Rinoa. Say 'Hi Rinoa,'" Selphie said.  She shuffled her feet in Rinoa's direction.  Unfortunately, her boot landed square in a puddle of tequila for which she might have been responsible.  She slipped.  Irvine grabbed her around the waist, catching her before she fell.  She twisted into his lap and giggled.  Rinoa's smile in return was worn around the edges. 

"Hi Selphie.  Um, did you notice that Seifer's here," Rinoa asked.  She looked over both shoulders as though she were looking for the bogeyman.

"Seifer's here?" Irvine asked. 

"Yeah, I just saw him heading to the bathroom," Rinoa said.  Irvine's eyes wandered.  Selphie didn't like that.  Trouble always followed when Irvine's eyes began to wander.  Trouble usually wore a mini-skirt but she doubted Seifer could find one in his size. 

"Oh, he made it.  Yay.  Everybody say 'Yay,'" Selphie said, looking around for her glass.  She could have sworn she'd ordered a drink earlier. 

"You invited him?" Irvine asked, "But I thought - you know he - but he's - why?" 

Selphie sighed.  Boys. 

"I am a warrior, Irvine.  A warrior on an Epic Quest.  A Quest of Forgiveness.  A Quest of Forgetness.  An Epic Quest of Forgiveness and Forgetness," she said, shaking her head. Despite the whiskey - and tequila and vodka and whatever they had on tap - swishing around in her skull, she knew one thing clearly.  Seifer and The Gang needed to make peace.  They needed it like she needed another drink.  And maybe some nachos. 

"But . . . it's Seifer," Irvine offered, as though that were reason enough. 

"Yeah, it's Seifer, but he's one of us, you know.  He just . . . got lost along the way,"  she said. 

Rinoa and Irvine were silent.  They shared a look Selphie couldn't be bothered to decipher.  She looked around for her glass once more. 

"Who the hell stole my Fuzzy Navel?"

---

Seifer tore his lips away from Zell's before backing into the door.  He stepped away from the smaller blonde before entering the main room of the bar, but Zell reached to grab his hand before he could get too far.  He looked at him, the question in his eyes, but Zell only shrugged in response.  Part of him hoped that everyone else would be too drunk to notice.  Part of him simply didn't give a shit. 

Selphie caught his eyes from across the bar.  She had returned to her post on the bar.  He would have dropped Zell's hand but strangely, he found the smaller hand in his more compelling than his own shame. 

"Hey, everyone, it's Seifer and Zell.  Say 'Hi Seifer and Zell," Selphie said, winking at him.  "And look, they're coming out of the bathroom holding hands.  Sex on the Beach?  More like Sex in the Bathroom, am I right?"  Irvine buried his head in his hands as Selphie cackled maniacally. 

Coming here had been a bad idea, he thought, but as Zell squeezed his hand, pulling him towards the door, he knew it could have been worse.