Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 8 > More Braids than Brawns

Chapter Two - The Otherside of First Impressions (prompt: Innocuous)

by sumthinlikhuman 0 reviews

A look at the time and life of one Kiros Seagul. ~A Series of Shorts for Fated_Children on LiveJournal~ (Rating for certain chapters; warnings include sex, alcohol, language)

Category: Final Fantasy 8 - Rating: R - Genres: Drama, Humor, Romance - Characters: Kiros, Laguna - Warnings: [!] [Y] - Published: 2006-07-24 - Updated: 2006-07-25 - 1964 words

The young man standing before our platoon was older than me-everyone was-with dark hair and a cocky air about him. He'd been called out of line because he hadn't been paying attention-because he'd been watching me-and now the Drill Instructor was circling him like a vulture.

"Loire," the DI began, stopping before the dark haired cadet, "why are you in the military?"

"Sir, to serve my country to my fullest ability, sir!" the cadet said in a very speedy way with a sharp salute. I nearly broke face, trying not to laugh; it wasn't even that funny.

The DI circled around to stand behind this cadet, Loire, and said, "That's very admirable, Loire." He stopped just behind Loire's shoulder and continued, "Except you're not Galbadian, are you? And you'd probably be a better soldier if you weren't such a /queer/." He slapped Loire in the back of the head, and ordered him back to his post.

Loire limped back, and I couldn't quite keep the laughter out of my eyes. The rest of drill went just about the same way, and I watched as Loire was pulled aside for laps at the end.

Before I left the parade ground, as I watched Loire walk toward the track start, I caught his eye, and nodded toward the barracks. I wondered if he'd get the hint-though I was being kind of obvious-and hurried off before the DI could catch me and have me run twenty-five laps too.

So I sat outside his room-I had seen him come out so many times that it didn't even occur to me that it was a little strange-and waited. He came back earlier than I had thought (so he was either very fast or the DI had left and he had snuck off), and I stood up quickly, suddenly very nervous.

I had never gotten stared at, back in my village on Centra, except when people traveling through would mistake me for a girl than take a double take. He opened the door and kinda muttered this sort of "c'mon," really quietly, and let me go in first.

Like all cadet dorms, his was a double. One half of the room was completely bare; the other-which must have been Loire's-had a few things thrown about in disarray, and a poster on the wall which I recognized as a Galbadian Army recruitment poster.

We were quiet for a very long time, him looking nervous and unsettled, and I pulled on the only thing I could think of that would bring about a conversation.

"So, where are you from?" He looked confused for a moment, before seeming to remember that it was part of what the DI had called him on during drill.

Still leaning against his door, he shot into a rambling bit that consisted of, "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-." And then he seemed to realize he was rambling, before he blushed a little, and walked toward his bed. He sat down, and just kinda stared up at me.

That hanging tail of his sentence wafted across my mind for a moment, and I cocked a brow at him.

He asked, "What about you?"

"An island near Centra." I looked toward the poster on his wall again, and wondered if maybe the DI had been right; maybe Loire was queer. Not that I minded; I'd grown up knowing I didn't care much for women, so the idea that there was someone else who thought the same was a little elating.

And suddenly very nerve wracking. He had been watching me during drill; he had brought me into his room, alone, and was still watching me.

Suddenly, he shot to his feet, as though he knew my train of thought, kind of stumbling over something to say. I solved that for him, quickly saying, "I . . . should be going."

He looked stunned for a moment, before taking a step toward me. His leg gave out under him, and as he swore we tumbled to the floor together. We lay there for a second, as I became acutely aware of his erection poking me in the leg; I blushed darkly, and he muttered an apology as he kind of crawled off me.

The door opened, and Loire's roommate stepped in, staring at us stupidly for a second. Then, muttering a loathsome, "Put a fucking rubberband on the door!" he stepped back out into the hall and shut the door.

I couldn't help a nervous laugh, and pushed Loire off me a bit further, so I could stand and brush myself off without nailing him in the face with my knees. He stared up at me, watched as I stepped over to the door and said quietly over my shoulder, "I'll be seeing you at drill, Loire."

Of course we did, though it was always a little tense. I tried to ignore him as much as possible, ignore the flutter in my gut every time I saw him in the mornings or at meals or during drill or just before curfew as we returned to our rooms.

Then one day, a couple of weeks after that interesting little encounter, while returning from a field training exercise, Laguna turned to me and murmured an innocuous little statement of, "We should hit the showers before all the hot water runs out."

I just stared at him-too many years in my family had me reading too many layers deep in those words-and a couple of other cadets around us began to laugh on his behest and jeer "fag" and "queer" at us. He looked ready to retract his offer, but I shrugged and quickly said, "There's a shower near my and Ward's room. Nobody really uses it."

When he tripped over himself, clutching his leg in annoyance, I laughed a little and helped him limp away from the still jeering group of other boys, and we made our way through the barracks toward the cadet dorms, and the small shower-room near our dorms. I said, in a ploy to ease his obvious nervousness, "The hot water will help with that, you know. The cold nights must have done a number on you."

He gave me this look-/you're joking me, right?/-and I tried not to smile my knowledge. I knew what all those cramps were about, or could at least figure them out. I opened the door to the bathroom and stepped in, already unzipping my fatigues as he looked around at the small room.

Suddenly, he realized that I was taking my clothing off. He did so as well, obviously nervous, and I took our fatigues over to the laundry chute as he turned on the shower.

There was only the one showerhead, so we huddled close, despite both of our uneasy at being so close-not because I was nervous that we'd touch or something, but because I was a little uneasy because I didn't know if I'd object if we did start touching.

I unbraided my hair, and caught him staring out of the corner of my eye. When he touched my hair though, after all my braids were undone, I flinched a little, surprise written across my face. He just stared at my hair, and quietly asked, "How long have you been growing it?"

"Since my sister died." And I thought for a second, shrugging when I wasn't quite sure how long ago that had been. "Three years, I think. It's hard to tell." Before he could ask about that, I passed him the shampoo and said, "Might as well do some good while you're having fun."

Long after he had washed the shampoo out of my hair and I had washed the soap off, I finally turned, and switched places with him, taking the shampoo and lathering up my hands. His hair was thick-perhaps mostly from the grime of our field exercise, or perhaps just /thick/-and as my fingers ran over his scalp, he leaned forward and let out a throaty moan.

I pulled away, surprised and worried, and asked if I had hurt him. Slowly, he smiled over his shoulder, refusing to turn and face me, and quietly stuttered, ""I . . . think I should be goin' about now . . ." For a minute, I just stared at him, before blushing a little and hurrying off toward the laundry chute.

At that moment, my brain decided to fire back up, and remind me that it was a /chute/. The clothes were gone. I rummage, searching for towels; there were none.

I looked over at him and said, "We don't have any lean towels."

"Uh . . . my clothes?"

"The hampers gone." He swore, and turned, looking around for anything to use so he could leave.

I stared. There wasn't anything else to do, really, except let my eyes unconsciously fall below his waist and take in the . . . whole sight. When he noticed me staring, he swore again, and blushed brilliantly as he tried to explain it away-"We're young, right? Sorry. I'm just gonna try and find something, and then I'll be outta your hair, I promise . . ."

I stepped shyly toward him, until I was back under the shower spray with him, staring up at him as he trailed off. He swallowed-I tried to forget that he was four years older than me, at the least-and slowly I rose onto my toes and kissed him.

He deepened the kiss gently, sloppily, and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I did something that made him moan deeply, and smiled into the kiss. Slowly, he turned me until I was pressed against the wall, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him close and bury my hands in his hair.

We broke apart, just as the door opened. Ward stood there, staring at me over Loire's shoulder, and I asked him to get some towels because we didn't have any clean ones. He rolled his eyes and stepped out again, saying he'd be back in a minute. I disentangled myself, strode to the door, and took the towels when Ward returned.

From the other side of the door, not looking at me, he muttered, "If it had been anybody else-."

"I know." I returned to Loire, and handed him one of the towels, saying, "Because you wanted to go . . ."

I returned to the shower spray, and rested against the wall, trying very hard not to touch myself. He was watching me intently, slowly wrapping his waist in the towel.

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

I shook my head. "It's no problem, Loire."

"Laguna," he said quietly, staring at the hand I had on my thigh. I hummed quietly, raising a brow in question, and he shrugged. "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." he nodded, and tried to rip his gaze away from my hand. He was stalling, and I laughed a little, pushing off from the door and turning him around. I pushed him toward the door as I shook my head a little at his absentmindedness.

At the door, Laguna Loire turned and kissed my hungrily one last time. With a smile, I laughed and pushed him out into the hall.

With my back to the door, I relished in the warm tightness in my chest, and decided that maybe being in love wasn't such a bad idea.
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