Author's note: Gift for Khamonai. The prompt was Seifer/Squall and dancing. Woefully little of the latter, really, but I hope you'll like it anyway. ^_^

If Seifer had to pick the place he most wanted to avoid, Esthar would have come second only to Balamb Garden. He’d been involved – indirectly, but who cared about that distinction? – in the Lunar Cry and Adel’s release, and he was well aware of the lingering effects of it. Turning up at the anniversary victory party seemed tasteless. Not to mention suicidal.

After Ultimecia’s defeat, he’d gone to Fisherman’s Horizon with Raijin and Fujin. Seifer hadn’t been too fond of the idea, but Fujin had insisted it was the logical place to wait out any repercussions for their part in the war. Much as Seifer might despise their complete pacifism, it would also provide him with sanctuary against more military nations. And the people had turned out to be pleasant enough. Most were content to ignore the past and accept them as part of the community – a bit eccentric perhaps, but no more than any other immigrant.

When he first got the party invitation, he’d been convinced it was a ploy to get him into Esthar where he could be tried and executed for supporting Ultimecia. Raijin and Fujin had been skeptical, but not quite as paranoid. Fujin had written to Balamb Garden to investigate the possible reasons, and received a reply only a day later. The Commander himself had called to guarantee the safety of the former DC trio, should they choose to accept the invite, and to encourage them to attend. Seifer had almost fallen off the pier when Fujin told him. Out of everyone he’d fought and hurt during the war, he’d expected Squall to be the last person to forgive him.

Now, tugging at the sleeves of his new trench coat, he felt self-conscious. The guards hadn’t so much as blinked at them, merely checked Seifer’s invitation against the guest list and waved them inside the palace, but it took only a moment to see that they didn’t fit in. The ballroom was a sea of robed Estharians in their favored pastel colors, with a smattering of foreign military uniforms, fashionable gowns and the occasional tuxedo. Seifer and Raijin stood out like sore thumbs in their casual wear. Fujin had dressed up, but she was the only woman in slacks.

“Dincht,” Fujin said, nodding at the distinctive crest of hair moving through the crowd.

Zell looked relieved to see them, oddly enough.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, rocking slightly on his heels, too energetic to stand still. “We were starting to wonder if you’d changed your minds, but Squall said Fujin had promised. Anyway, we’re over in the next room, and you have to come meet Laguna.”

“Laguna?” Seifer glanced at Rai and Fu’s impassive faces – a highly suspicious expression for Rai – and couldn’t help but think they knew more than he did. “Why would I want to meet the president?”

Zell had already started to move off and didn’t look back as he retorted, “He wants to meet you, and I’d think you’d have sense enough not to make enemies with him.” The sharp tone smoothed somewhat. “Plus, you’ll probably get a kick out of seeing him with Squall.”

“With – What are you talking about, chicken-wuss?”

Zell glared over his shoulder. “Don’t call me that!” He regained his composure just as he reached the doors and gave them a strained grin. “He’s Squall’s dad.”

Seifer stopped dead. “His dad?!”

“Yup!” Zell’s mirth was more genuine this time; he was obviously pleased with the reaction. He opened the door and they trooped inside, Raijin giving Seifer a helpful shove to get the blond moving.

Despite his curiosity about the SeeDs, Seifer couldn’t help but be drawn to the brightly dressed Estharians first. The trio was eye-catching by the single virtue of being so very unalike. One of average build, one even larger than Raijin, one unusually dark and so slender he looked diminutive in comparison. With a brief shake of the head and an internal chuckle, Seifer dismissed their similarity to the DC as pure coincidence and focused on his former friends. Even before he’d looked at the group of SeeDs scattered around the room, he could tell that Rinoa was missing. As a Knight, he’d become attuned to that particular resonance of power and there was no hint of it here. Odd, considering how much the girl had liked parties (and Squall, but he refused to think about that). Maybe the SeeDs had grown tired of her crusade and left her to do her own plotting in Timber? Discarding the thought – and the girl – as unimportant, his gaze sought Squall and it was suddenly all he could do not to gape in shock. Squall was in full, formal Commander uniform, subtly different from the one worn by regular SeeD. Seifer had expected Quistis and the rest to wear their uniforms just as Zell did, but he’d never thought Squall would do it. During their time as students, the brunet had been almost as stubborn in his refusal to wear the cadet uniform as Seifer himself.

Shiva knows why, Seifer mused. He looks… perfect.

Unlike at the SeeD exams the year before, when Squall’s cool demeanor slipped to reveal his anxiety, he now held himself with a quiet confidence. He looked like a leader; like someone who not only was but should be in charge.

“Found him!” Zell announced unnecessarily, breaking the sudden hush.

Seifer tore his eyes away from Squall, locking gazes with the man approaching him. There was a definite family resemblance, he realized, but it was all in the physical features, not the personality. He wondered what Squall would look like if he ever smiled that warmly.

“Welcome to Esthar!” The man clasped his hand in both of his, shook it enthusiastically. “I’m Laguna Loire, and these” – he gestured at his two mismatched friends – “are my friends Kiros Seagill and Ward Zabach. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“… Likewise,” Seifer managed, very much off-balance. This was not what he would have expected from the president. At all.

Laguna nodded cheerfully, moving past him to greet Rai and Fu.

“And this must be Raijin and Fujin! The kids have told me so much about you!” If Laguna noticed Quistis’ sigh or Selphie’s giggle at the term, he made no sign of it. “I’m so glad I could arrange this little reunion!”

Raijin looked a little sheepish. “We’re real happy to be here, ya know?”

“PLEASURE,” Fujin said as she shook Laguna’s hand.

The man blinked, a little surprised at her volume perhaps, but his smile barely faltered. He patted her hand with his free one, and said, “It was good of you to make sure Seifer came with you. I wasn’t sure if–”

“Laguna.” Squall’s voice was neutral, but it brought his father’s attention to him as quickly as a drill sergeant’s outrage.

“Sorry,” Laguna said, rubbing the back of his head with an embarrassed grin. “Why don’t we all go back to the ballroom, and you can join us when you feel like it?” He herded the group out the door with surprising ease, especially considering his pronounced limp.

That’s funny; I don’t remember him having any trouble walking before.

“Seifer.”

The blond swallowed and met Squall’s eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see – hatred, accusation, pity – but Squall kept his emotions as locked away as ever. Calm, collected gray gave no hint to his thoughts.

It made Seifer both angry and relieved that Squall would face him as if nothing had changed. Made him wonder if it was still up to him to drag the brunet’s feelings into the open. He would have thought that Rinoa… Better not think about it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Squall said.

Seifer raised a brow, arrogant sneer slipping into place as if he’d never lost it. Sarcasm followed, natural as breathing. “After everyone insisted I had to? And such a charming occasion, too. How could I possibly stay at home?”

If he’d thought that would be enough to rile Squall’s temper, he would have been disappointed. As he’d known it took more than that, he was merely surprised by the vague smile.

“I’m glad you did.”

What?

Seifer gaped as Squall headed for the door, apparently done with the conversation. He almost let it go, almost let Squall go, but it was too easy, too much what he’d thought he’d wanted, and he couldn’t.

“Why did you really invite me?”

Squall didn’t pause. “We thought it would make things easier for you if it were public knowledge that you’re not being held accountable.”

“Ever think that maybe I should be?”

Squall spun on his heel, body tense, eyes glacial. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

Seifer almost took a step back. He recognized that fierce look, had seen it too often during the war. “You knew,” he said, voice less than a whisper. “You knew what she did.”

Squall relaxed minutely, gave a one-shouldered shrug. “There were signs of it.” He stepped into the ballroom, waited for Seifer to pass and closed the door behind them. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at Seifer with a sincerity the blond had not expected.

I’m sorry I didn’t help you, he meant, and it was almost painful to hear. Until Ultimecia’s rise, Seifer had been the stronger of them; if there was help needed, it came from him. He’d helped Squall with sparring, taught him to expect trickery from an opponent, forced him to talk, to feel, to live… and now that was all over. He’d seen it in the calm authority Squall held. There was no insecurity there, no internal conflicts left. Squall knew who and what he was, and he’d made peace with it.

Without Seifer.

“Me too,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward in Squall’s company.

Blue eyes flickered to him while they moved through the crowd, ignoring the Estharians respectfully moving aside for them.

“We all acted strangely during that time,” Squall said. “And afterwards.”

His bland tone gave nothing away, but Seifer barely bit back a curse. “That’s why Rinoa isn’t here?” He briefly wondered if Squall had killed her, but surely he would have heard about it even in FH?

Squall shook his head. “Rinoa is a child, more so than we’ve been since we came to Garden. She can’t really understand us, but she means no harm. She merely returned to her life in Timber.” He gave Seifer a meaningful look. “She didn’t try to sway us intentionally. She had neither the training nor the malice, and it still worked now and then. How could we blame you?”

Seifer let the silence linger this time.

Laguna had accepted him without question, Rai and Fu had told him it wasn’t his fault, and the guarantees of safety had pretty much assured him that Balamb Garden would officially stand by him if it ever came to a trial. But that had been politics, the just and fair commander doing the right thing. It had nothing to do with Squall and Seifer personally.

Hearing that Squall believed in him was different. It mattered.

It made him reckless.

With a small bow, he held his hand out to Squall. “Care to dance?”

The brunette startled, blue-gray eyes wide with shock before narrowing in his habitual frown. “You must be joking,” he said, but his tone was hesitant.

“Not a bit,” Seifer retorted, keeping his voice purposely light so the crowd around them would be none the wiser. Squall knew he was serious, but Seifer would back off if this was too much of a push too soon. He wanted to share his joy with Squall, not make him uncomfortable.

Squall just looked at him, indecision clear on his face. “We’d cause a commotion.”

“Of course,” Seifer grinned, feeling like he was back on familiar ground now. “Afraid of what I’ll do to your reputation? Garden’s? … Your daddy’s?” The answering glare made his grin widen. “Come on, I’ll even let you lead.”

Squall opened his mouth to refuse but closed it wordlessly when a squeal cut through the din of conversation. They both turned toward the low podium and the musicians seated there. Selphie hugged the conductor, flashed a victory sign at Irvine and bounced out on the dance floor to join him. The conductor gathered his composure and turned to the orchestra. When the music began again, it was in a deeper register than before, with a stronger beat.

Squall smiled, a gleam to his eyes that sent shivers down Seifer’s spine.

“Alright,” he said huskily as he took Seifer’s hand.

The blond looked around as they moved closer to Selphie and Irvine. There were very few non-Estharians left on the dance floor, but those that remained looked very pleased with the change of music. Especially Zell. Seifer doubted the martial artist had been comfortable with the formal dances, and Fu had never –

Hold on. Fujin and Zell? Dancing?… That’s just wrong.

Seifer gladly focused on Squall again, tried to banish the image of the improbable couple from his mind.

“Did you know this is one of the oldest Estharian dances?” Squall asked as he began to dance; simple, graceful motions Seifer would have no difficulty following. Keeping several inches between them, as if taunting the blond with what he couldn’t touch. “It’s also one of the few that has no steps. The music never changes, but the dance is reinvented by each dancer, in every moment.”

“Really?” Seifer had already noted that no two couples seemed to move alike, but he looked around anyway. Raised his brows at the way Selphie clung to Irvine. If only Squall would… He turned his eyes back to the brunet and smirked. “You do recall I’m better than you at improvisation? You always liked following the rules.”

“People change.” Squall tilted his head back, made a sinuous motion with hips and legs that made Seifer lick his lips. It should have looked stupid in a uniform, but Squall pulled it off. “Didn’t you hear? I make the rules now.” He stepped into Seifer’s personal space, crowding him, forced him to retreat.

“This isn’t Garden,” Seifer countered, letting Squall move him as he pleased. He had promised, after all… And following was surprisingly exciting. It was almost like their spars, only this time the only danger came from the tension between them. Judging by Squall’s darkened eyes, he knew damn well what he was making Seifer feel. Not at all like before the world spun into madness around them. “Let me take you somewhere tomorrow” – in something less restricting than that uniform – “and we’ll see how well you improvise.”

Squall shook his head. “Irvine decided that the whole orphanage gang needs to go out clubbing tomorrow, to make up for the dull party today. None of us is getting out of it without dealing with Selphie, and I’m not pulling rank for that.”

Seifer might have taken the words for a rejection, but there was no rancor in Squall’s voice and… and he drew that bit closer. Close enough to touch. Hands and legs brushing together, barely felt, but turning blood to fire in Seifer’s veins. Squall looked almost hopeful, and when he spoke again it was in a tone Seifer was more than familiar with.

“Since you’re stuck with us, you’ll have time to prove you’re not just boasting.”

Challenging me, are you? As the underlying invitation sunk in, Seifer couldn’t have stopped the smile if he’d wanted to, and his reply came out a purr. “I will.”