Disclaimer: These characters belong to Square Soft. This fanfiction is not for profit.
Thank you so much for the kind and encouraging reviews! There really will be yaoi eventually, I promise.
By Race Ulfson
I decided what I was going to do.
I scooped up the replentished packsand said, "Let's get back to the party."
"Too bad about him ending up at Charity," Rajin said, speaking of Squall. Raj followed me, still talking. "He had a real nice car, though, so I bet somebody's looking for him."
"If for no other reason than to get the next car payment," Fujin said, following him.
On my way to the back of the ambulance, I casually brushed my hand over the shiney white hood. Just the faintest breath of Bolt curled out. I know what I can do to your VCR. The diagnostic computer in the engine hates me.
We got in, we got settled, but before we can get going, Raj had to dick around under the hood.
"Service engine soon light is on again. Can't see anything wrong, though."
"I don't want to be in the back with a full Code Red and have this bastard drop its transmission in the middle of the road."
Rajin started her right up. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it."
I didn't have to. Raj worried about it, with a little help from Fuu and her natural pessimism. By the end of the shift, Raj was whining to the boss and old Number 3 was taken off active duty.
Since I'm such a swell guy, and I live right around the corner from the Mechanic's, I offered to drop Number 3 off on my way home. Save me a bus ride, I told the boss with a shrug.
Ain't I the Boy Scout?
On the way, Number 3 and I made a little side trip back to Galbadia General. There I slouched over the counter looking bored and tired until I could nab a nurse who is also tired and at the end of her shift and anxious to go home.
"Supposed to cart John Doe to Charity?" I asked her.
"They said you had it."
She wasn't a trauma nurse, she didn't know me, but I had the badge, the uniform, the attitude. She grumbled around, couldn't find it, wrote up a halfassed transfer slip and sent me off to fetch John Doe, Room 611.
Squall was pretty out of it, but I hit him with a Sleepe, just in case. Wheeled him out, threw the papers in the dumpster, took him home.
I layed him on my bed and left to drop off the ambulance.
He was awake when I got back.
"Still resistant to status effects, I see," I said cheerfully.
Squall's color was up, chest heaving, eyes flashing. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He sounded out of breath and angry.
Squall actually looked pretty sweet, all vulnerable and exposed in his little hospital gown. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't.
"Get me out of this bed," he said.
Then it hit me. I have an old Captain's style waterbed. High off the ground, high wood sides. Kinda mushy because I'm a big guy and I need a new matress. And here's Squall, a ridgid cast up to the hip on each leg.
There is no way he can get out of that bed without help.
So there I was, Seifer Almasy, evil Scorceress' Knight with my newly kidnapped major rival mostly naked and helpless on my bed.
It was all I could do not to rub my hands together and chortle.
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