Title: Play Ball
Pairing: Squall/Irvine
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: *sigh* not mine.
Notes: Sequel to �Cat�s Cradle�.
Play Ball
This was nice. The library was peaceful and quiet. Irvine found his way to the �Environmental History� section and glanced at the shelves. Every single book was covered in an inch of dust. He ran his finger along the spine of one book, �Grat Breeding For Beginners�, and inspected the fluffy collection of grey dust that had gathered on the tip of his finger before blowing it off. Then he leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor.
No one would see him here, he doubted that anyone had even looked at this isle for months. It was the perfect place to doze in. It would be the last place that Selphie would expect to find him. It wasn�t that he disliked the girl, but her voice had an annoying tendency to ride too high when she got excited, which was often, and it was starting to hurt his eardrums.
One last glance at the shelves that surrounded him, then he pulled his hat over his face and closed his eyes. Selphie wasn�t the real problem though. The real problem was that his mind kept wandering back to the other day on the bridge. He could still clearly see the childish expression on Squall�s face, followed by that not so childish one. He didn�t know which one he was obsessing over more, but he could guess.
// Damn! //
There he went again, thinking about Squall. He�d have watch where he let his mind wander to in a public place like this. And Squall hadn�t spoken to him since. Not that him not speaking was so unusual in itself. It was just, something had happened, hadn�t it? He hadn�t just imagined it?
He sighed and his warm breath blew back against his face from under the cowboy hat. He really needed to spend sometime not thinking about Squall, sleep seemed the best option. Only, every time he tried to get some shuteye, Selphie would find him and drag him off somewhere. He couldn�t even escape from her in his dorm, but he couldn�t just act cold and tell her to leave him alone. Any other time he would have welcomed the attention. Besides, charm isn�t something that you can simply turn on and off. So he just smiled, paid her a compliment and followed her, letting her ramble about whatever took her fancy. Normally he would have made an effort to listen, but he was easily distracted at the moment. The trouble with hanging out in the Garden is that the name of their fantastic leader is on everybody�s lips.
//Leonhart this. Squall that. Like he�s everyone�s best friend. They don�t even know him. //
Irvine tipped his head back against the wall and tried to forget about it. It wasn�t an easy task, but the library was hypnotic in its silence, the only disturbance was the occasional rustle of a page being turned. Slowly, he began to drift off.
Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud
Irvine moaned to himself. He couldn�t see what he was dreaming about, but he could hear it.
Thud-Thud-Thud
It was a regular rhythm. Solid, but slightly high in pitch and dull.
Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud
Opening his eyes to the stifling blackness of the inside of his hat, he realised that he wasn�t dreaming. Cautiously, he removed the obstruction of his view, but he was surprised to see that there was no one there. He moved his head to the side so that he could peak through the rows of books towards the entrance. The lobe of his ear felt cold as it pressed against the painted wall behind him. The source of the noise wasn�t coming from the entranceway, but he could still hear it. The repetitive sound was louder now, although still muffled.
//Shit! It�s coming from the wall! //
Irvine jumped irrationally with the realisation. Several different horror films sprang to mind as he imagined someone, or something, trapped between the walls. He wafted himself with his hat and took a deep breath, mentally calling himself all the names under the sun.
//Jackass. It�s coming from behind the wall. You dumb hick. //
With a little effort, he picked himself up and dusted his jacket down. Well, he was wide-awake now, and his heart was still thumping a little hard in his chest. He put his hat on and took another breath. He might as well investigate.
He left the library with confident leggy strides that made his coat flutter behind him. He could practically hear the girl behind the information desk swooning. He smiled to himself. Hyne, he was good.
At the end of the corridor he turned right onto the walkway that surrounded the lift, then right again, down the corridor that led to the training centre. This was the direction that the noise had come from. He paused when he saw the figure at the end of the passageway, then he began to approach him more slowly and quietly.
Squall moved fluidly, as graceful as any cat. Each action was calculated and followed a precise rhythm, a testament to the years of training he had undergone. However, the almost mechanical actions didn�t detract from the fact that he was playing catch. It could have passed as some grand masculine gesture if he had been playing with a baseball, a tennis ball even, but he wasn�t. Squall Leonhart, saviour of the Garden, gunblade expert, and over all walking, not quite talking, icicle, was playing catch with a small, pink, sparkly ball. Irvine stifled a giggle and waited until he was close enough not to have to raise his voice before he spoke.
�Where the hell did you get that?�
Squall jumped and froze at the same time. The ball hit the wall with a familiar thud, bounced past Squall and skittered across the floor. Obviously Irvine had been a little too quiet in his approach, Squall looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He blushed slightly before spinning around to pick up the dropped ball. He remained crouched down, even after he had retrieved the ball, as if he was trying to recollect himself and gather up some dignity. After a soft sigh that Irvine supposed he wasn�t meant to notice, Squall replied.
�� Selphie found it for me.�
He stood up straight and faced Irvine, but couldn�t seem to decide quite where to look and fidgeted with the ball in his hands. He looked awkward. Irvine wasn�t sure whether it was because he had been caught playing games or because he was feeling uncomfortable around the cowboy. Irvine decided that he should break the silence that was beginning to grow around them.
�So, what are you doing?�
Squall�s head jerked up. He looked confused, like he thought that the answer should be obvious.
�I�m playing catch.�
//Stupid dumbass question. //
�Okay�� Irvine squinted at Squall. �Why?�
�After the other day, on the bridge,� Squall looked around nervously. Then he made eye contact with Irvine, but it wasn�t the same kind of contact that it had been on that day. It was fleeting and soft, which, Irvine noted, was still an improvement on his normal frozen expression, �I�ve been remembering� Not my childhood, not really,� Squall shook his head, more to himself than anyone, �but games. Things I think I used to play.� His eyes went glassy for a moment, as if they were seeing what his mind couldn�t. �I think I used to really like playing catch.�
Irvine grinned. He wasn�t going to miss this opportunity.
�That�s right, you did.� He reached out and snatched the ball from Squall�s hands. �So like�. Wanna play catch?�
Squall�s eyes lit up in a way that was becoming familiar to Irvine. He�d thought about them the past few days, the shimmer of silver that pierced through the greyest of blue, but his memories couldn�t compare to actually being there when it happened. He could have swept Squall into his arms in that moment and held him there, so that he could gaze deeper and closer into those eyes. But with a warm smile, he turned and threw the ball so it bounced off the wall at an angle towards Squall.
Squall caught it. Before he returned it, he glanced over to Irvine. He had that look again, the one that radiated innocence, tainted with a touch of mischievousness, and something else significantly more adult. Irvine didn�t have time to think about it as the ball bounced back towards him.
�I thought that ball games would be against Garden rules,� Irvine stated after a few minutes of comfortable silence, the ball bouncing between them at a steady pace.
�It is,� Squall replied passionlessly. �Strictly against the rules,� the tone of his voice changed, reflecting his ironic smile. �But who�s going to tell me off?�
�Good point,� laughed Irvine as he lazily tossed the ball back.
�You on the other hand�� Squall paused, breaking the rhythm by not throwing the ball back as soon as he had caught it. �You might have to be disciplined.�
He had spoken facing the wall and Irvine couldn�t tell if he was being serious or not. His heart seemed to miss a beat as a not altogether unpleasurable pain shot through his stomach. As he stared at Squall, his mouth slightly open in shock, he completely missed the ball that the gunblader had thrown back. It rebounded off the floor, hit the opposite wall and proceeded to half roll, half bounce down the corridor.
Irvine blinked and stuttered incoherently for a second, before yanking the rim of his hat down to hide what he was sure was stupid expression. Then he turned and ran down the corridor after the escaping ball.
That statement had confused him. He knew that Squall must have been joking, but the way that he�d said it, was he coming on to him? Or was that just too hopeful?
As he began to walk back up he lobbed the ball to Squall. Reflexively, Squall threw it back. The game started up again and the rhythm fell back into place. Irvine preferred this; he was facing Squall now, who was standing several feet away from him. It gave him the chance to enjoy the view. Squall was smiling gently, his face a blend of nostalgia and an enjoyment of the present. His stance wasn�t as stiff and carefully posed as it normally was. His body swayed as he caught and threw the ball, stepping backwards and forwards as was appropriate. Occasionally, Irvine threw the ball a little off target, so that Squall almost skipped to whatever position he needed to be in to catch it.
//His body is definitely made to be in motion. It must be torture to be so rigid all the time. //
Irvine had an idea to make the game even more active.
�Hey, tell you what. Let�s go find Zell, then we can play piggy in the middle.�
The ball was returned a little too high. Irvine had to react fast to catch it before it smacked him in the face. There was so much force behind it, it would have given him a black eye. Irvine dropped his hands down and raised an eyebrow at Squall, who just shrugged.
�Whatever.�
Irvine began to stride purposely towards Squall. He was suddenly angry. Squall had let an unwanted emotion slip past his lowered defences and had instantly reverted back to his old cold self to cover it up. Irvine was not going to let him do that. Not when they�d come so far.
�No! Not �whatever�! What the fuck was that?�
�Nothing,� Squall blinked.
�No. That was something. I mention Zell and almost lose my head. Then you become Mr. Ice Prince. What, are you jealous of Zell or something?� Squall looked down at the ground and Irvine�s eyes widened. �You are jealous! Ah, hell Squall, what you got to be jealous of him for?�
�You two,� Squall informed the floor. �It�s so easy for you.�
Irvine shook his head.
�What is?�
�Flirting.�
�What?!?�
�Whenever you�re near each other, it�s like there�s this chemistry between you.�
�You call that chemistry? I always figured he hated my guts.� Despite his words, Irvine�s ego swelled slightly at the thought that maybe Zell liked him.
�It gets your attention, doesn�t it?� Squall�s eyes flicked up and caught his for long enough for Irvine to feel guilty about letting his mind wander away from the matter at hand, before darting away again. �And it doesn�t stop you from having a crack at getting him into your bed!�
The sudden accusatory tone and the uncharacteristic language that Squall used made Irvine feel uncomfortable. He felt like he was being reproached by an untrusting housewife. There was more to this than Squall was letting on.
�I flirt with everyone, Squall. Doesn�t mean I want to �get them into my bed�. You make me sound like a slut, which I�m not. But what�s it got to do with you anyway?�
Squall studied his hands, clenching and unclenching them at his waist. His hair obscured most of his face, but he looked pensive, scared even. He was losing control of his emotions, and he couldn�t reel himself back in again.
�Do you mean it when you flirt with me? Do you want to get me into your bed?� His voice was so quiet that Irvine had to hold his breath to hear. Then, after he had registered what Squall was saying, he found that he had forgotten how to breathe. �I�ve tried to flirt back, but it�s so hard. It doesn�t come easy to me, and I don�t know if I�m getting anywhere��
�Squall��
Both voices fell silent simultaneously. Squall kept his head bowed, but he looked up at Irvine through his dark fringe. His eyes were dancing with emotion; fear, hope, innocence, longing. Irvine drew in a much-needed deep breath, wondering how Squall could doubt his seriousness.
//How can he look in the mirror and not see how much of a catch he is? Of course I mean it! //
He opened his mouth to tell Squall how he felt. He wanted to explain to him how beautiful he was when his expression softened, how his eyes were anything but simply grey, but he didn�t know where to start. Instead, he let the ball that he had been clutching drop to the ground and reached out to cup Squall�s chin. As Squall�s head was raised, his gaze met Irvine�s. His eyes shimmered nervously. Wordlessly, Irvine closed the gap between them and grazed his lips over Squall�s. A tiny surprised gasp escaped from Squall, but his lips parted at the touch and hands wrapped themselves around Irvine�s neck.
Further down the corridor, Quistis bent down to pick up the ball that had rolled to her feet. She frowned at it and peered down the corridor. As her eyes adjusted to the slightly darker light she could make out the unmistakable figure of Irvine. He had his back to her and, judging by the linked hands behind his head, he wasn�t alone. Quistis sighed heavily to herself, ball games and making out in a public place? She began to advance towards them, intending to give the couple a verbal warning and tell them to get a room.
Then she noticed a flash of white fur. She blinked and looked again to make sure that she wasn�t mistaken. No, it was definitely Squall. She stumbled to a stop, spun around and quickly marched back down the corridor. Training could wait an hour, or two. Maybe she could just skip it completely today. Just to be sure.