FicWad

When asked by the DI why I'd joined the Galbadian Army, I did not snap the normal smart ass answer I would have on any other occasion. I snapped the smartest salute I could, and said, quite loudly, that I was there to server my country to my fullest ability.

The DI said that was very admirable, and would probably be more admirable if I were actually originally from Galbadia and I was actually paying attention to the drill session instead of staring at the ass of the cadet standing in front of me.

Not like I could help it. The kid was maybe a half year younger than me, with dark skin and long hair. I would've said he was a girl, but girls weren't allowed in the army. He had a pretty face. His dorm was two rooms down from mine, and he in with this big guy who was a year above us both.

His name was Kiros Seagul, and he wasn't Galbadian either. But the DI wasn't pulling him out of the platoon and chewing him a new one. I suppose that part might've been my own fault; I had been kinda obvious about staring at him. What can I say? I get nervous when I like people . . .

Everybody was sniggering at me without really making any noise. Even the Seagul kid. His eyes-they were really dark, but paler around the edges-were all bright and laughing at my misfortune as the DI told me to get back into my spot. I suffered the pain of the cramp in my leg and wandered back to my post with as much dignity as I could muster.

Okay, so it wasn't that much dignity. But I could probably kick anybody else's ass here, and that's all that mattered.

Somehow, I managed to piss the DI off even more, just before the end of the session. As he dismissed the rest of the platoon, he pulled me and two other idiots-and those two were idiots; they'd been taking pot-shots at each other with sniper rifles-and assigned as twenty-five laps around the track.

That Seagul kid was watching us trudge off to the start, me at the tale end. He smiled softly as I walked passed him, nodded towards the dorms, and winked gently. For a while, I just gaped after him as he walked off.

So, instead of doing all twenty-five laps I 'd been assigned by the DI, I did twenty, stealthy snuck away, and found that Seagul kid sitting just outside my dorm, like he'd implied he'd be doing. For a while, I just stared at him again, trying to ignore the slow tensing in my right leg. I invited him as he stood gracefully and dusted himself off.

Not like there was much to do in the dorms. My roommate was out, though, and that was something just short of a godsend. I closed my door as he inspected my walls, and tried to will the cramp out of my leg.

"So, where are you from?"

"Uh . . . Trabia. Lived in Timber most of my life though; it's real nice there. Pretty warm most of the year around. But I wanna travel. That's why I joined the army, really. That and-." I stopped, sucked on my lip, and told myself I was babbling and babbling wasn't sexy and would just make this kid think I was some sort of freak.

Not like he didn't already. He was watching me very carefully, one thin black brow raised towards his hairline. I cleared my throat, and managed to walk all the way to my bed without stumbling or limping. One success down . . .

"What about you?"

"An island near Centra." He shrugged, staring at one of the posters on my wall. It was one of those posters they put up in cities to encourage young impressionable boys to join the military. I'd gotten it in Deling City, when I'd first arrived. There was a good looking Galbadian soldier on it, toting a machine gun and looking off into the distance.

That was why I'd joined the army. Good looking Galbadian soldiers. And this Seagul kid, he didn't look like the kinda person who'd see that and think: "This guys wants to serve his country!". Nah. He looked like the kinda guy who sees something like that and thinks: "This guy wants to see men in uniform. Pervert".

But, from the impression I was getting, that was an okay thing to be with this Seagul kid. He had, after all, winked at me and sat outside my dorm room while I ran laps.

Speaking of which . . . I was all sweaty and gross. I blushed and cringed a little, jumping to my feet.

"Uh . . ." The words weren't coming to my tongue, though they sure as hell were popping up in the back of my head: I've gotta go take a shower. Wanna come with me? Please say yes! I tried very hard not to hit myself in the head.

"I . . . should be going."

Whoa, wait, what? That was it? I start stumbling over myself, and he has to /leave/? My manly charm was apparently turned off for the moment. I stepped towards him-

-and promptly got a killer cramp and stumbled straight into Seagul, bowling him to the floor, where he came face to face with all my 'manly charm', and groin to groin with a rather pressing problem I'd been trying to ignore.

He blinked, a blush just under his dark skin, and cleared his throat as I moved back and off of him while he leaned up onto his elbows.

My roommate chose that exact moment to walk in, stare at the both of us, turn around and leave. He said something through the door of putting a rubberband on the knob if I was going to be having sex, for his own safety, and quickly discovered that I was getting a tic just below my left eyebrow.

Beneath me, Seagul snorted his laughter, and gently pushed me off. He stood, brushed himself off, and stepped over to the door.

Over his shoulder, barely meeting my eyes, he said, "I'll be seeing you at drill, Loire."

And over the next couple of weeks, it was sorta like that: me making an ass outta myself, and him almost getting comfy with me, and then my own stupidity getting the better of both of us. I figured, this was God's way of getting back at me for putting up the picture of the Galbadian soldier in my room.

And having that porn stash under my mattress.

And probably for fantasizing about all the stuff I'd really like to do to that Seagul kid, given more than half a chance. It really wasn't fair.

Two weeks after that first little 'encounter', we were coming in from field training, covered in grat and caterchipiller blood and aching for a solid meal, and I looked over at Seagul, and opened my big fat mouth and said, "We should hit the showers before all the hot water runs out."

For a minute, he just stared at me, and I got the full brunt of my stupidity thrown into my face by a couple of the older cadets laughing at us. I shook my head and shrugged, beginning to wave off my stupidity with something flippant and fitting for the moment-turn on that ol' manly Loire Charm-but Seagul had shrugged and said, "There's a shower near my and Ward's room. Nobody really uses it."

Could it possible be that Kiros Seagul was saying he was willing to be naked and wet with perverted little me? Oh, life was good some days; maybe God didn't hate me as much as I thought.

I tripped over my cramped-up leg and swore violently-one good thing learned and perfected in the military already. He smiled a little and laughed, helping me along to the showers, saying the hot water would do me some good, especially after being out in the cold, damp night for so long.

He had, apparently, completely missed the fact that I only got these cramps when I was around him, or some other equally attractive young Galbadian recruit/cadet/soldier. Whatever. More power to my manly Loire Charm.

When we got to the bathroom, I wasn't that surprised nobody really used it. It had a grand total of two showerheads, one with an 'Out of Order' sign hanging from it, no sink, no lockers, no . . . anything really. It was a shower stall.

A very cozy shower stall.

And damn Kiros Seagul was taking his training fatigues off. That tic beneath my left eye was coming back, as well as the cramp I'd just managed to walk off, but somehow I managed to get my own fatigues off without falling flat on my face. He took my clothes and threw them into the hamper in one corner while I turned on the shower.

The water was blessedly hot, and I was really conscious of the fact that there was this dark skinned young man standing a grand total of two centimeters away from me, radiating nearly as much heat and taking his hair out of his various thin braids.

I decided that his hair must be really soft, because it was fairly thin, and decided to follow my stupid instincts and test that theory by reaching out and running my fingers through his hair very slowly. He flinched a little, blinked at me, and then smiled, shaking his hair out completely.

"How long have you been growing it?"

"Since my sister died." He shrugged. "Three years, I think. It's hard to tell." I nodded, even though I didn't really get his logic, and just kept running my hand through his hair. After a while, he laughed, and grabbed a small tube of shampoo from the rack hanging from the dysfunctional showerhead. "Might as well do some good while you're having fun."

He grabbed the soap, and promptly ignored me after that, as I washed his hair and he washed off all the grime and sweat he'd collected during the three-day-long exercise. Everything was generic with us grunts, but it seemed maybe a little out of place on him, clashing with some dark, natural scent.

I decided he smelled like Centra and the ocean, even though I didn't know what the first one smelled like and didn't really remember the second one, and left it at that. Long after I'd washed the shampoo out of his hair, I kept my hands running through the long black locks, until he turned around, shook his hair out of his eyes, and motioned for me to turn around.

I was going to burn in the fiery pits of hell for the rest of eternity. But damn, his hands felt good in my hair. There came that cramp again; I braced against the wall, and groaned softly.

He flinched back, asking if he'd done something wrong. I smiled shyly, peering over my shoulder and blushing like an idiot.

"I . . . think I should be goin' about now . . ." There was no subtle way to do this, no safe way to get out of the room without him seeing my reaction to him but I didn't really have a choice. He stared at me for a second, before nodding, and walking out from under the spray.

I stood very still for a second, trying to pull together my dignity and composure. He glanced over at me, and smiled ruefully.

"We don't have any clean towels."

"Uh . . . my clothes?"

"The hamper's gone."

I swore, violently, and beat a fist against the wall. Well, there was no beating the band now. I shyly turned around, and looked around the minuscule little room for something I could use to get down the hall without getting thoroughly embarrassed.

It took me a second to realize he was staring at me, and I swore again, waving a hand flippantly.

"We're young, right? Sorry. I'm just gonna try and find something, and then I'll be outta your hair, I promise . . ." He walked over while I was talking, and was standing in front of me when I trailed off, staring up at me-I wasn't used to people doing that-with those damn pretty eyes of his. I swallowed thickly, well aware that I was staring at him, and he was definitely still staring at me, and then he was reaching up just a little, and his lips were almost as soft as I thought that might be; maybe a little coarse from the wind, maybe a little slick from the shower or his tongue.

His tongue/, and nobody should be able to do /that but he was, and that just wasn't fucking fair, if you were to ask me. Not that I was complaining, mind you. I was all too happy to have his tongue do obscene things to my mouth. It was quite nice, thank you very much.

It probably would've been better if the door hadn't opened. I was staring at the wall, trying to get my brain to function at proper levels, but he was staring over my shoulder, talking with that damn hulk of a roommate of his, and saying something about getting towels or clean clothes or checking the newspaper or something, because I sure as hell didn't know what was coming out of his mouth.

And by the time my brain was back up to proper functioning levels, he'd gotten that towel, and was holding it out to me, muttering something under his breath that I didn't really catch.

He returned to the shower spray, resting against the walls and apparently perfectly at ease with his body, because he was watching me with this odd little look and his fingers kinda kept flicking off against his leg. And that was really distracting. I managed, though, and even got a smile onto my lips.

"Sorry to, uh, to be so much trouble and all."

"It's no problem, Loire."

"Laguna," I said without thinking, staring at his hand. He hummed in confusion, and I just shrugged a little, still staring at his hand. "My name's Laguna-you know that, I know, but I figure-I don't know. You can call me that if you like. Seeing as we just . . . and I should be going. But, call me Laguna. Can I call you Kiros, or would that be-?"

"Kiros is fine." I nodded, and tried to rip my gaze away from his hand, but it was really hard. He had nice hands. Thin and pretty. Lady's hands. Not the hands of a soldier, but an artist, and I wondered suddenly why he'd come to Galbadia and joined the army.

He was in front of me again, smiling and turning me around to push me out of the bathroom. I laughed nervously, trying not to stumble over my own stupid feet.

At the door, I turned around. He didn't seem surprised that I stole a sloppy kiss, and shoved me into the hall with a soft laugh.

That Seagul kid. He was gonna be the death of me, if I wasn't the death of him first.