FFVIII Drabble for R
By Garden's Gnome
“Care to remind me why I am doing this?” called a voice from behind the curtain.
“Because you have to look the part, Laguna,” Kiros said, leaning against the dressing room frame. “This meeting is important and you need to be taken seriously.”
“But being serious is no fun,” Laguna whined. “Can I have my clothes back now?”
Kiros looked across the room to the chair where Laguna’s usual baggy pants and shirt were laid out. “No.”
“Look, Kiros. The clothes fit and I don’t have to wear them until this weekend.”
“Laguna,” Kiros growled quietly. “Will you just come out of the change room so the seamstress can check the fit?”
“Fine,” Laguna said with a sigh.
As Laguna exited the small change room, Kiros remembered all the reasons why he was glad the aqua-eyed man rarely wore suits. He shifted uncomfortably as his pants tightened.
Although the suit was like any other normal dinner suit, it clung to Laguna’s body in all the right places that his regular clothes hid. It made his shoulders seem that little bit broader as he subconsciously straightened his back; it caressed his waist and hips as he did up the jacket buttons.
“I feel so pretty,” Laguna said sullenly as he spun around like a girl would in a dress, long hair flying.
Kiros rolled his eyes and stepped close as his friend stopped spinning. Straightening the lapels of the jacket, Kiros felt Laguna’s eyes studying his face. “Turn around,” he said.
Laguna turned and faced the large mirror behind them. To one side, the seamstress was leaving the room to look for the bowtie that went with the dinner suit. Laguna watched as Kiros stood behind him, gently gathering his hair to tie it back. Laguna shivered a little as dark fingers caressed the back of his neck and watched Kiros’ dark eyes smoulder with desire as he leaned down a little. He jumped a little at the wet tongue and nibbling teeth that made his blood race.
The sound of footsteps coming closer was the only thing that stopped Laguna from dropping his head forward to allow Kiros more room. However, instead of stepping away, Kiros moulded his body to Laguna’s back, reaching around as if to straighten buttons. Laguna could feel something hard and hot pressing through the layers of fabric and his eyes flew up to meet his friends’ in the mirror.
Kiros calmly held out his hand for the scrap of fabric that the seamstress had, eyes locked with Laguna‘s in the mirror. Deft movements of his hands had the bowtie perfectly in place. He stepped back, thankful for the robes that hid his desire for the other man and watched as the woman went about checking the final fit.
Pleased with her work, the seamstress left.
“Um, I think I should change now,” Laguna said, toying nervously with his jacket.
Kiros walked to the door, locking it before leaning against it.
“Yes, you should change now.”