Irvine wakes up in Squall's bed, not remembering how he got there. After the events in the game.
Irvine lay very, very still, while he tried to remember what had happened to night before. There had been drinking; ever since the breakup heard round the world, Squall had been doing a lot of drinking. Irvine and Zell made a point of going with him -- Zell hated booze, and Irvine was usually responsible enough to keep his drinking to a minimum.
Not so last night, apparently.
He couldn't work through the fog that was his memory. Maybe, he thought, he'd gone back to the wrong room with someone who was not Squall, and Squall was sleeping it off somewhere else, and would wake up just as confused as Irvine. And maybe the guy Irvine was spooning just happened to be Squall's height and build and have Squall's hair. And maybe tiny unicorns would fly into the room and wish him a good morning.
He slipped his arm out from under Squall in increments, freezing with every twitch and breath that didn't sound the same as the last. Finally free he sat up, the blanket pooling in his lap. His head thought this was a pretty awful idea and protested by throwing bricks against the inside of his skull. He grunted and rubbed his eyes; a hangover was exactly what he didn't need right now.
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He was going to do something very, very shitty, but as far as he could see it was the only way out of the situation that didn't involve bloodshed.
Silently he collected his clothing; shirt, underwear, pants, socks, boots, jacket, hair-tie, belt. He got dressed near the door, keeping an eye on Squall in case he had to run for it.
He slipped out the door; it was late morning, which meant most students were in class and most SeeDs were out training or teaching or what-have-you. He still half expected to be caught, but he wasn't.
The cafeteria was nearly empty; he got himself a coffee and a muffin he wasn't sure he was going to be able to eat. He took a sip of his coffee, which was too hot, and then leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
Stupid, he told himself. Stupid stupid stupid. Sleeping with a guy was one thing; all in all it wasn't a terrible thing, either. Everyone experimented, right? Right. But sleeping with his very good childhood friend, who also happened to be the Commander of Balamb Garden? Bad. Very, very bad. And stupid. Disappearing before Squall woke up was also a stupid thing, but hopefully Squall wouldn't remember what had happened, either.
He wasn't even sure they'd used a condom.
He leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand. He picked at his muffin, pulling the blueberries off and dropping them onto a napkin. His coffee was still too hot.
He started when something black dropped onto the table in front of him. He blinked his eyes into focus and stared at the thing on the table for a moment before he realized that the thing was his hat.
He looked up to see who had put it there, and saw Squall walking away. He looked back at the hat, then at Squall, then back at the hat.
"Fuck," he said, with feeling, under his breath.