For Frar.

[tammaiya]

Title: Possession
Rating: PG-13, probably
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Genre: Romance/Angst
Notes: Yes, Squall is a bit OOC. I've done what I can, but... there you go. This fic has the same title as another Sarah McLachlan song, (possession. obviously) but unlike Silence I didn't actually write the fic to it. It does sort of fit, though. Vaguely. In a weird way. Get the song anyway, it's good. Piano version is the best.
Summary: Squall prepares to fight the last battle against his possessed lover before facing the Sorceresses.

Was it better or worse to fight your lover when he didn’t even seem to be there anymore?
Squall supposed he ought to be grateful that there was no real hint of the Seifer he’d known in those eyes. How much harder would it be if he could see the Seifer he was used to? Then again, it didn’t really seem fair that he would have at least that hint taken away from him.


It’s just a mission, Squall told himself. Just another mission. Yes, it involved sorceresses and their arrogant blond knights, and yes, it was harder than anything he’d had to do before, but it was still a mission.
The others were scared of the upcoming battle, that he knew. They were afraid of failing, of dying, of the world being destroyed. He wasn’t afraid of that, at least. Not to say he was overconfident; he just felt that if they failed, if they died, so be it. They would have done their best and that was really all it came down to.
That wasn’t to say that Squall was unafraid, either. It just meant that he held different fears.
Such fears included wondering if he was really capable of fighting Seifer.
Squall had no doubts over his own abilities. He knew that he was at least equal to Seifer when it came to blade-to-blade combat, and after all the experience he’d gained since they’d last fought each other, he suspected he was now better. No, the thing he doubted was whether he’d be capable of hurting Seifer at all.
Weak. Pathetic. Not like him. But true.
How do you prepare to wound and possibly kill someone you’ve known that long? Easy, Zell would say. How about taking into consideration that he’s a dickhead?
No, Squall wasn’t doing the hyperactive blond justice. There was little love lost between Seifer and Zell, but they had grown up together. Squall was rather sure that they had never had any desire to kill each other. Maim each other, maybe, dent each other’s egos, definitely, but not kill each other.
Maybe the others were taking this as badly as he was?
No, they couldn’t be taking it that badly. They had their qualms, and they were torn over killing a childhood playmate, but in the end Squall was the only one who found fighting Seifer to be a more daunting prospect than fighting Adel or Ultimecia.
Was it better or worse to fight your lover when he didn’t even seem to be there anymore?
Squall supposed he ought to be grateful that there was no real hint of the Seifer he’d known in those eyes. How much harder would it be if he could see the Seifer he was used to? Then again, it didn’t really seem fair that he would have at least that hint taken away from him.
Rivals by day, lovers by night. It had worked, to an extent, although both of them had a tendency to get a little rough in bed when the rivalry had gone a bit to far.

“I’m going to have bruises in the morning, you dickhead.”
“…whatever.” Squall muttered, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.
“Nice to know you care,” Seifer shot back, tone as dry as the desert.
Squall just grunted and rolled over again, burying his face in Seifer’s chest. “Shut up,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
Laughing, Seifer wrapped his arms around Squall’s waist and pulled him closer. Squall didn’t apologise to just anybody, but Seifer was hardly anybody. “Oh, you’ve decided to talk to me, have you? Good, I was afraid I was about to be demoted to the level of the other plebeians.”
Rolling his eyes, Squall pulled Seifer down for a lazy kiss. After he had let Seifer go again, his head fell back onto Seifer’s chest. “I hope you’re assured of your esteemed position,” he said sarcastically. “You know you’re not in any danger of losing it.”
Seifer pouted. “You weren’t talking to me.”
Squall snorted. “Maybe I was tired,” he said. “Hypothetically speaking. Stop complaining, I’m going to have more bruises than you. I probably won’t be able to walk, thanks to you.”
“Yeah, ok,” Seifer yawned. “Point taken. But I’m not the one who raked their nails down someone’s back.”
“And I’m not the one whose idea it was to use magic in a gunblade fight,” Squall pointed out. “Can we just sleep now?”
Seifer winced. “Ouch, okay, low blow. I’ve already said sorry. And I know it was stupid. Can’t we just forgive and forget now, please?”
“’m sleeping,” Squall mumbled.
Seifer chuckled, and ruffled the messy chocolate locks. “Yeah, sure you are.”
It hadn’t been much longer before everything had gone wrong.

“Squall, are you ready?”
Rinoa. Squall winced. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the perky girl; on the contrary, he was growing almost fond of her, much to his own chagrin. The problem was that she had romantic notions of her knight in shining armour floating around in her pretty little head, and that was where Squall couldn’t help her. There was only one person he’d grant that kind of attention to, and that person was the one they were about to fight.
No, he wanted to say. No, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
He didn’t, though. He couldn’t say that, because it would go against everything he stood for. Seifer wouldn’t want him to sacrifice the mission, no matter the cost.

“Idiot!”
Squall turned his head to the side, refusing to meet Seifer’s furious eyes. “…why?”
“You do not compromise the fucking mission, okay? No matter what! You could get chucked out of Garden!”
Squall shrugged. “So?” he asked calmly. “So what?”
“So what?” Seifer yelled. “Have you somehow forgotten, somewhere along the line, that this is what you’ve been obsessing over for years?”
“You were in danger,” Squall said flatly.
“That is not the point, Squall!” Seifer hissed. “The point is that you could have fucked up the mission by going back to save me, you moron!”
Squall shrugged again. “And?”
”And?” Seifer stared at him incredulously. “And what? It’s a mission, Squall. You do not mess with the mission, whatever the reason.”
Squall stopped to contemplate this, then looked at Seifer again. “And what would you do if I was in danger during a mission?”
Seifer hesitated. “That’s different,” he said lamely.
Squall smiled slightly, a small and barely perceptible smile, and reached up to kiss Seifer on the lips. “No it isn’t,” he said firmly. “And you’re too tall.”

As Squall belted on his gunblade, he reflected that it had never felt quite so heavy. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if he sabotaged just one mission? He shouldn’t always have to be perfect. Garden owed him.
Then again, this wasn’t just a mission. This was a matter of saving the world, as cliché as it was, and everyone was depending on him. There was no way he could justify that kind of selfishness, not to himself, not to Seifer, and not to anyone else. Seifer had been that vehement over a mere practise mission; imagine how angry he’d get over something of this magnitude. Besides, what good would it do? Seifer would be alive, but hardly unharmed. As long as the sorceresses were allowed to continue their hostile takeover, Seifer was under possession.
What would Seifer do if Squall kissed him in the middle of the battle? he wondered. Would it break him out of the trance he was under?
Chuckling humourlessly, Squall shrugged into his trademark leather jacket and pulled his black gloves on. He was getting as bad as Rinoa, with all this faerie tale nonsense. Kiss the princess, and she’ll wake up.
Seifer would so totally kill him if he ever heard that Squall had likened him to a princess.
No, the much more likely outcome was that Seifer would strike him down when he left his defences open. No sorceress would be stupid enough to cast a spell of mind control that could be overpowered by… by… what, love?
Stupid stupid stupid! Love was just a way to get yourself hurt. He had been a fool to trust in Seifer. He should never have allowed himself to get that close, had thought he knew better, but his mistake had been in giving in to the relationship in the first place. I don’t do relationships, I don’t even do friendship, that was supposed to be his motto, but he had completely messed that up. There was something about Seifer’s cocky arrogance that he had wanted to trust, stupid as it was, and he had gone against all his better judgement just on that feeling. It made more sense, now that he remembered his past, but that didn’t mean he was any less of a fool.
He had seen what love and trust could do once. By their very nature they encouraged hope, and hope was something Squall preferred to do without. Now look what a mess he’d gotten himself into.
Seifer and Squall were big tough macho soldiers- or at least, Seifer was, and Squall acted like it to make up for the fact Seifer always teased him about looking feminine- and they certainly didn’t go in for mushy talks about their feelings. That didn’t mean that there were none, just that neither of them knew how the other felt. Squall was pretty sure he cared about Seifer, loved him maybe. He should never have let it happen, but it was too late, now.
He could just imagine what the real Seifer would say if he ever found out that Squall had even considered trying to win a fight like this by kissing him, and the thought brought a slight smile to his face. That would almost be worth it, and he could almost see it now:
“You absolute imbecile! Have I taught you nothing? Do you ever even listen to me? Don’t drop your guard in a fight, idiot! You’d just be leaving yourself open to attack!”
Whatever happened, he’d always have the Seifer in his mind. It was highly likely that this made him eligible for the status of insanity, but he was already firmly up there in most people’s estimations, so it could hardly make much of a difference.
The reactions of his friends and teammates would be even more amusing, given that they had no idea of the nature of the relationship between Squall and Seifer. As far as they were concerned, the two hated each other. Squall was hardly given to such displays of either affection or idiocy, either, and most of them suspected something between him and Rinoa.
He didn’t exactly relish the thought of shattering all their pretty delusions, so that more than anything else put the thought firmly out of his mind. Best not to try the same tactics twice, anyway.

Seifer stared at him blankly, gunblade lying forgotten on the ground.
“I… you… I…”
Squall smirked, an expression seen more often on Seifer than him. “I won?”
“You play dirty,” Seifer said finally, scowling. “Those were underhanded tactics.”
Squall shrugged. “Oh, no more than using magic in a weapon fight. No one got hurt, for one thing. Unlike you, I don’t have possessive marking instincts.”
“You’re never going to give that a rest, are you?” Seifer complained. “And as for having no possessive marking instincts, excuse me whilst I laugh. You scarred me too, might I remind you.”
“Revenge,” Squall replied simply.
“Yeah, sure. I’d believe that as much as I’d believe Ifrit dancing ballet in a pink tutu. And kissing someone in battle? That’s pretty possessive, if you ask me.”
“I don’t recall asking you.”
“By kissing me, you got me involved and my opinion is relevant whether you ask for it or not,” Seifer said sanctimoniously. “Kissing someone in battle is totally cheating.”
Squall raised his eyebrows. “And cheating goes against your moral fibre since when?”
Seifer laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe since someone who isn’t me started doing it. I’m trying to protect your ethical high-ground, you should be thankful.”
“Yes, of course,” Squall muttered dryly. “It has nothing to do with the fact you hate losing.”
“Obviously not,” Seifer agreed cheerfully. “What a ridiculous idea. Besides, that’s hardly a tactic you can use in real battle. I’d like to see you kiss a chimera!”
“I didn’t exactly have any intention of using it on monsters,” Squall said sarcastically.
“Always nice to know. I wouldn’t go using it on humans either, though. I mean, if you’re not careful they’d slice you down the middle.”
“For some strange reason, you’re the only one I considered using it on. And as it appears to have worked on you, I can’t see any issue.”
Seifer was left with very little to say to that.

Seifer hated letting other people get the last word, even Squall. Especially Squall. Both of them were very competitive, and outside the bedroom they wanted nothing more than to one-up each other. In one way, it spiced things up a little, but in another it added a strain. In practice fights the two would generally engage in some form of banter, more Seifer than Squall.
Squall let Seifer taunt him and his friends, paying only half his attention. This wasn’t the Seifer he had always tried to beat, and it wasn’t the Seifer he cared about, so he didn’t see much point in rising to the banter with his usual style. He clearly wasn’t the only one who played dirty- possessing someone’s lover and using them as a weapon was seriously underhanded, and he had no doubt that the sorceresses would have been able to pick that fact up from Seifer with very little difficulty.
Unslinging his gunblade as the fight began, Squall was having serious doubts over whether he really could hurt Seifer. The knight’s eyes were blank, emotionless, and they held no trace of Seifer, but in essence he was still himself. Still, Squall couldn’t do it. He’d just have to hold back and hope that Seifer could counter him without the others realising. He didn’t think they would; they should be able to defeat Seifer without any real help from him anyway.
From the smirk on the possessed Seifer’s face, Squall guessed he couldn’t tell either. The Seifer of old would have known without a shadow of doubt that Squall was holding back on him. It would have annoyed him no end.
“Don’t play down your ability, Squall,” Seifer snapped in his mind. “I can tell, and it’s seriously pissing me off over here. I don’t want you to baby me. We’re supposed to be equals, regardless of fighting skill, so bloody well treat me as such!”
Insane, Squall decided giddily, and he was paying the cost for his distraction. Seifer had managed to nail him with a fire spell. How ironic.
Still, though it was slightly painful and the sparks temporarily blinded him, it was nothing he couldn’t deal with. Realising that Zell was summoning Ifrit? Much harder.
He’d known that if he couldn’t bring himself to beat Seifer the others would have to, but knowing something and facing up to it were two entirely different things. Squall decided that he hated reality.
Squall winced as the flaming boulders rained down upon his lover, almost feeling the pain himself and hoping that the others weren’t watching him. Nothing terminal, but that definitely had to hurt.
He found himself unsure as to which would be harder, bringing Seifer down himself or standing by and letting his friends do it. He knew that if Seifer had to take a beating, he’d prefer it to be by Squall’s hands.
“Come on, puberty boy. You owe me that, at least.”
Puberty boy. Possibly one of the most pathetic insults Seifer had ever come up with, in Squall’s opinion. “It’d be suspicious if I didn’t insult you,” he said. “It was the best I could come up with,” he said. Personally Squall just thought that Seifer was feeling jumped up about the exam at the time, a thing which usually caused him to become relatively snappy and unimaginative.
He had to do this himself, and not with Guardian Forces or magic, either. Phantom Seifer was right- he owed it.
The others stared in shock as Squall grimly leapt to action, speeding up his movements until his blade become a blurry flash of silver. Seifer began to fall back, struggling more and more to meet each blow before it hit him.
It was blindingly obvious that Squall had been holding back before, but none of them could understand it. Quistis had suspected that something was amiss earlier; Squall had seemed as though he had been dreading the upcoming battle, even though she could tell he held no fear of the sorceresses, and she had been certain that he should have been able to do more than hold his own against Seifer in a fight. They had both been her pupils, and she was more than able to quickly assess their current capabilities having fought alongside Squall and against Seifer. As it stood, Squall was by far the superior fighter. It seemed he’d finally decided to show it, though.
Seifer and Squall were fighting on a whole different level now, fast and furious. The others had stood back, knowing that they could only hinder Squall by interrupting, and for that he was grateful. The battle could not last much longer- Seifer’s movements were getting ever-so-slightly sluggish, and there was no way he could keep it up indefinitely.
Closing in, Squall was more tempted than ever to try his faerie-tale solution, but restrained himself and threw the final blow, slicing Seifer’s side open. It wasn’t a fatal wound by far, but it should knock him unconscious. With a heal spell, it shouldn’t even leave a scar.
“I’m sorry,” Squall whispered, even though his apologies came few and far between. For that vital second Seifer was himself again, aggravated and amused, and Squall wondered if the kiss would have helped after all. Too late now, as Seifer had sunk bleeding and unconscious to the floor.
This could be the last time they ever saw each other, Squall realised numbly. Either one of them could die, especially him during the fight against Ultimecia. Even taking that factor out, though, there was a possibility that Seifer wouldn’t want to see him again. Wouldn’t forgive him, maybe, for being unable to pull him out of the enchantment sooner, or for some other reason. There were enough potential reasons, that was for sure.
Hope? How could he have been so stupid? Everything had fallen apart like he’d always known deep down it would, and now he was struggling just to pull it all back together.

“And maybe one day, I’ll tell you about my romantic aspirations.”
Do they even involve me at all? Squall wondered. There’s no guarantee I figure in them in any way. Is there really a future for us? Even if he was referring to me, he could be mistaking kinky for romantic.
Squall was a natural pessimist. It saved on the disappointment later on, because it meant that things always met or even exceeded his very low expectations.
Right before he foolishly ran off, Seifer had winked at him.
They had to have a future. That was the one of the few things Squall was prepared to believe in, and if it all fell apart he’d think of a way to pick up the pieces later.

“Squall, we have to go fight the sorceresses.”
Squall turned to face Quistis, expression so carefully blank it screamed turmoil. Quistis sighed.
“Who would have suspected? Our ice-commander, trying to save everyone. You know he won’t die, Squall. It’s okay.”
I don’t want to save everyone, just him, he felt like saying. He didn’t, of course, but for once Quistis could read everything he was thinking in his eyes.
Quistis felt her heart break for him as she saw that, and finally realised something that had been in front of her the whole time. A rivalry that intense will rarely come without a balance, after all.
“Everything is going to turn out all right, Squall.”
“Whatever,” was all he said, but he was seriously thinking about a way that this could work out. It had to, and somehow, that was enough for him to force himself to ignore the part of him that wanted to give in, and take control again. He had to believe in that, had to believe they had a future.
If he didn’t, he had nothing left to fight for.

Comments

[fahye.livejournal.com]

*cheers* Very good! Just what I was looking for.

Saya suka: Bruises in bed *smirks*
Saya tidak suka: Again, repetition of the key ideas a little too much

Gawd, I'm thinking in Indonesian *gawks* Basically - "I like" and "I don't like"

Notice me being constructive. And just to be perverse, I'm going to do it for every single fic. Be afraid.