What a cocky asshole. 'Then don't trip'. Seifer would laugh if he wasn't busy taking very focused, very measured breaths to keep his head on straight. To keep himself moving constantly, carefully forward to the room he had been making use of since he got to this place.

It takes so much of himself to ignore what Squall was doing. No small part of him wanted to slam Squall against the nearest wall, or down on a table, and get back to their new form of battle. But no, the bed was needed. The darkness and shelter of the room. The space where Squall could not see him so clearly, know him so deeply. Where maybe he can pretend this is just another dream. Or that it wasn't.

Step by careful step he carries Squall into the bedroom with the bed he had replaced the mattress of with leaves and sleeping bags. It worked for him, and it would have to work now as well.

"If you let go, I can put you down," he suggests, his voice still rough with his controlled desire.