![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_bells» Title: I.D. [G]
» Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com
» Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
» Status: Complete
» Warnings: Bad, bad characterisation. Probable misuse of medical terms.
» Pairing(s): Irvine/Squall
» Summary: Irvine follows Squall everywhere. Squall's trying not to think about it.
Irvine Kinneas. The face that launched a thousand fan clubs.
Who knew that he would be so persistent? Oh, Selphie warned him, true enough, but she neglected to mention that he was entirely relentless and an untapped sleuth. Sometime over the last year, Irvine had developed the uncanny (and certainly unnverving) ability to appear in Squall's immediate vicinity without detection. Luckily for Squall, the thundering shock to his ventricular system never managed to reach his expression. He could usually ignore the irritating look of pleasure that would cross Irvine's features, as though he somehow knew that he'd successfully surprised him.
You would think that after three months of turning around and finding himself face-to-face with Balamb's prized sniper, that he might have picked up on something. That maybe he would have learned to listen for the slight sound of footsteps on stone, or be alerted at the scent of cool leather and suede? It struck Squall as strange that he couldn't even detect the most self-evident scents of gunpowder or oil... it was almost as though Irvine was too clean. Maybe he hadn't touched his trademark weapons for a while?
In any event, Irvine was sneaky and Squall was daft. It dimly reminded Squall of a long time ago (then again, maybe not that long?) when the Sorceress was still just a topic on the exam, people called him 'cadet', and the only thing he had to worry about was whether or not Seifer was going to bother him for a training session that afternoon. However, Seifer had never been about subtlety.
"It's harmless, unless you feel threatened by him," Quistis had offered, when Squall had made the mistake of muttering aloud to himself. Of course, his nosy secretary and self-appointed elder sister would prod an explanation from him (however short). She simply wouldn't be 'Quisty' otherwise, he could accept this and thus, gave in to her.
If he thought it was in Irvine's character to amiably stalk him by daylight (he thankfully had the good grace to leave him alone when he retired to his quarters), he might have dismissed it easily. But really, three months was drawing this game on too long and Squall still didn't know the motive behind it all. He genuinely didn't feel threatened, but he had to admit to himself, if no-one else, that he was becoming weary... and maybe just a little worried.
He was typically content to ignore Irvine when he did make himself known.
"Afternoon, Squall," he would smile, "how's the day been treating you?"
And it was always in that initial moment when they made eye contact that Squall would pause. In the split-second they would stare, Squall would analyse the charming quirk of lips (that would reputedly send the female cadets squealing), the playful light in his eyes and every time he thought, "he knows". Followed quickly by, "wait, knows what? How can he know anything about me that isn't in a file, if I don't even know it's possible for him to know? I don't know what he knows, but I know he knows something!"
Why else would he give Squall that look at each encounter?
"He might simply be looking out for you, Squall," Quistis had suggested, that same time, a few days ago. He didn't need protection, he had guardian forces and a three point five kilogram gunblade for that. More to the point, the only thing to be warded against was impatient foreign diplomats and their long, long mandatory conferences....
Eventually, after many weeks of failing to brush Irvine away, Squall repeated the same question that had become a daily litany. This time he gave Irvine his full attention and the privacy of his office.
"Irvine, why are you bothering me?" He leaned against his desk, crossing both arms at his waist. Irvine was flipping through a large folder on his desk with obvious disinterest. He had thrown his custom hat on the scattered papers and was making himself comfortable, something he seemed strangely accustomed to in the Commander's office. Squall had been virtually living in it for over a year and he still wasn't comfortable; the posture of his chair was too rigid and there was always too much light in the room.
"I think I'll take you to lunch today," Irvine answered easily. He almost made it sound like a genuine idea, but Squall was not humoured. He was tired.
"I have people bring me lunch," Squall's tone was flat, but he really intended it to be more matter-of-fact. It was unnecessary for him to waste time leaving the office to stride down to the cafeteria - even if the office was the last place he wanted to be.
Irvine glanced sideways at him and grinned mischeviously. He always looked as though he was up to something. "Then why don't I bring you lunch, Commander? Or maybe a pillow? You look beat."
Squall could barely resist the sigh that released from his chest. Rest sounded sinfully good right then.... Which, of course meant 'no'. He shook his head and pressed a hand his brow, almost feeling like he could rest there, and instead ran the gloveless hand through his hair. Opening his eyes, he found Irvine watching him closely. What else was new?
... That expression, for one, he noted.
"No. Thank you."
The smile that curved Irvine's lips was smaller this time, it looked secretive, especially as the cowboy drew closer into what some might have considered personal space. Personal, private space that Irvine was quickly making intimate as he stopped under a foot away. Squall felt himself frown as Irvine studied his face and the secret smile only grew.
"Come on, don't you want me to take care of you?" he teased, head bowing forward slightly. He had Squall's eye, but it didn't feel like the violet blue gaze was boring through him. It felt something akin to being coaxed.
Squall still wasn't amused. "Even if you were my mother, Irvine.... " He began to move away, but realised there was a gentle hand on his arm. It removed itself when set upon by his hard gaze, but he also ceased his motion and looked back to Irvine. Irvine, who looked like he was speculating, who was wearing that expression that never failed to make Squall tense without reason.
What could he possibly know?
"Did you want a promotion?" Squall asked suddenly. Could that be it?
An incredulous look of surprise took Irvine's features. "A promotion? I'm already a weapons expert, what are you talking about?"
"A transfer, then?" Squall offered.
Irvine was now the one looking confused. "No."
Or perhaps... "If you want to complain about the living conditions, there are forms for that."
"... Squall - "
Not that either? "Is your department understocked? Do we need to revise your annual budget?" Or maybe he should have said quarterly, he could be generalising too much.
Irvine laughed, stopping him short. "Squall, everything's fine, who's puttin' you under stress? My job is great, where's this comin' from?"
Squall eyed him suspiciously. "If everything is fine, why do you follow me?"
A smirk graced Irvine's features and he glanced away, chuckling something to himself. He looked back at Squall and shook his head once, before taking the final step in. He put them a mere breath apart, he was close enough that it seemed strange to look at anything apart from his eyes and Irvine's eyes spoke too well to him. "You never asked me to stop," he supplied, tone lilting.
Squall stiffened as Irvine leaned over and brushed lips over his cheekbone. Irvine scarcely touched him, but his senses flared and he held his breath in shock. Light, playful, and confident was Irvine as he drew back and threw a wink over his shoulder. Long strides took him out the door, silver-embossed metal slid shut behind him and Squall glared at them as though they were the back of Irvine's head. He didn't mean to glare, actually, but he didn't know any other way to stare.
Was that really Irvine who had walked out of his office with what little ability for speech Squall had had to begin with?
He blinked a few times and eventually tore his eyes from the door. Was that a kiss? His mind had only formed two words since, "what the.... ?" It reminded him strongly of the friendly kisses that Selphie imparted to him, or the shy precursors to his physical relationship with Rinoa. And yet, it felt entirely strange and discrete coming from Irvine. He hoped Irvine was going to explain, because while the man may be relentless, Squall was equally impatient.
Turning back to his desk, Squall scowled. Irvine had left his hat.
» Author:
_bluebells | k(at)noiresensus(dot)com | http://www.noiresensus.com» Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
» Status: Complete
» Warnings: Bad, bad characterisation. Probable misuse of medical terms.
» Pairing(s): Irvine/Squall
» Summary: Irvine follows Squall everywhere. Squall's trying not to think about it.
Irvine Kinneas. The face that launched a thousand fan clubs.
Who knew that he would be so persistent? Oh, Selphie warned him, true enough, but she neglected to mention that he was entirely relentless and an untapped sleuth. Sometime over the last year, Irvine had developed the uncanny (and certainly unnverving) ability to appear in Squall's immediate vicinity without detection. Luckily for Squall, the thundering shock to his ventricular system never managed to reach his expression. He could usually ignore the irritating look of pleasure that would cross Irvine's features, as though he somehow knew that he'd successfully surprised him.
You would think that after three months of turning around and finding himself face-to-face with Balamb's prized sniper, that he might have picked up on something. That maybe he would have learned to listen for the slight sound of footsteps on stone, or be alerted at the scent of cool leather and suede? It struck Squall as strange that he couldn't even detect the most self-evident scents of gunpowder or oil... it was almost as though Irvine was too clean. Maybe he hadn't touched his trademark weapons for a while?
In any event, Irvine was sneaky and Squall was daft. It dimly reminded Squall of a long time ago (then again, maybe not that long?) when the Sorceress was still just a topic on the exam, people called him 'cadet', and the only thing he had to worry about was whether or not Seifer was going to bother him for a training session that afternoon. However, Seifer had never been about subtlety.
"It's harmless, unless you feel threatened by him," Quistis had offered, when Squall had made the mistake of muttering aloud to himself. Of course, his nosy secretary and self-appointed elder sister would prod an explanation from him (however short). She simply wouldn't be 'Quisty' otherwise, he could accept this and thus, gave in to her.
If he thought it was in Irvine's character to amiably stalk him by daylight (he thankfully had the good grace to leave him alone when he retired to his quarters), he might have dismissed it easily. But really, three months was drawing this game on too long and Squall still didn't know the motive behind it all. He genuinely didn't feel threatened, but he had to admit to himself, if no-one else, that he was becoming weary... and maybe just a little worried.
He was typically content to ignore Irvine when he did make himself known.
"Afternoon, Squall," he would smile, "how's the day been treating you?"
And it was always in that initial moment when they made eye contact that Squall would pause. In the split-second they would stare, Squall would analyse the charming quirk of lips (that would reputedly send the female cadets squealing), the playful light in his eyes and every time he thought, "he knows". Followed quickly by, "wait, knows what? How can he know anything about me that isn't in a file, if I don't even know it's possible for him to know? I don't know what he knows, but I know he knows something!"
Why else would he give Squall that look at each encounter?
"He might simply be looking out for you, Squall," Quistis had suggested, that same time, a few days ago. He didn't need protection, he had guardian forces and a three point five kilogram gunblade for that. More to the point, the only thing to be warded against was impatient foreign diplomats and their long, long mandatory conferences....
Eventually, after many weeks of failing to brush Irvine away, Squall repeated the same question that had become a daily litany. This time he gave Irvine his full attention and the privacy of his office.
"Irvine, why are you bothering me?" He leaned against his desk, crossing both arms at his waist. Irvine was flipping through a large folder on his desk with obvious disinterest. He had thrown his custom hat on the scattered papers and was making himself comfortable, something he seemed strangely accustomed to in the Commander's office. Squall had been virtually living in it for over a year and he still wasn't comfortable; the posture of his chair was too rigid and there was always too much light in the room.
"I think I'll take you to lunch today," Irvine answered easily. He almost made it sound like a genuine idea, but Squall was not humoured. He was tired.
"I have people bring me lunch," Squall's tone was flat, but he really intended it to be more matter-of-fact. It was unnecessary for him to waste time leaving the office to stride down to the cafeteria - even if the office was the last place he wanted to be.
Irvine glanced sideways at him and grinned mischeviously. He always looked as though he was up to something. "Then why don't I bring you lunch, Commander? Or maybe a pillow? You look beat."
Squall could barely resist the sigh that released from his chest. Rest sounded sinfully good right then.... Which, of course meant 'no'. He shook his head and pressed a hand his brow, almost feeling like he could rest there, and instead ran the gloveless hand through his hair. Opening his eyes, he found Irvine watching him closely. What else was new?
... That expression, for one, he noted.
"No. Thank you."
The smile that curved Irvine's lips was smaller this time, it looked secretive, especially as the cowboy drew closer into what some might have considered personal space. Personal, private space that Irvine was quickly making intimate as he stopped under a foot away. Squall felt himself frown as Irvine studied his face and the secret smile only grew.
"Come on, don't you want me to take care of you?" he teased, head bowing forward slightly. He had Squall's eye, but it didn't feel like the violet blue gaze was boring through him. It felt something akin to being coaxed.
Squall still wasn't amused. "Even if you were my mother, Irvine.... " He began to move away, but realised there was a gentle hand on his arm. It removed itself when set upon by his hard gaze, but he also ceased his motion and looked back to Irvine. Irvine, who looked like he was speculating, who was wearing that expression that never failed to make Squall tense without reason.
What could he possibly know?
"Did you want a promotion?" Squall asked suddenly. Could that be it?
An incredulous look of surprise took Irvine's features. "A promotion? I'm already a weapons expert, what are you talking about?"
"A transfer, then?" Squall offered.
Irvine was now the one looking confused. "No."
Or perhaps... "If you want to complain about the living conditions, there are forms for that."
"... Squall - "
Not that either? "Is your department understocked? Do we need to revise your annual budget?" Or maybe he should have said quarterly, he could be generalising too much.
Irvine laughed, stopping him short. "Squall, everything's fine, who's puttin' you under stress? My job is great, where's this comin' from?"
Squall eyed him suspiciously. "If everything is fine, why do you follow me?"
A smirk graced Irvine's features and he glanced away, chuckling something to himself. He looked back at Squall and shook his head once, before taking the final step in. He put them a mere breath apart, he was close enough that it seemed strange to look at anything apart from his eyes and Irvine's eyes spoke too well to him. "You never asked me to stop," he supplied, tone lilting.
Squall stiffened as Irvine leaned over and brushed lips over his cheekbone. Irvine scarcely touched him, but his senses flared and he held his breath in shock. Light, playful, and confident was Irvine as he drew back and threw a wink over his shoulder. Long strides took him out the door, silver-embossed metal slid shut behind him and Squall glared at them as though they were the back of Irvine's head. He didn't mean to glare, actually, but he didn't know any other way to stare.
Was that really Irvine who had walked out of his office with what little ability for speech Squall had had to begin with?
He blinked a few times and eventually tore his eyes from the door. Was that a kiss? His mind had only formed two words since, "what the.... ?" It reminded him strongly of the friendly kisses that Selphie imparted to him, or the shy precursors to his physical relationship with Rinoa. And yet, it felt entirely strange and discrete coming from Irvine. He hoped Irvine was going to explain, because while the man may be relentless, Squall was equally impatient.
Turning back to his desk, Squall scowled. Irvine had left his hat.
