It’s a struggle to get out of the bed, unwinding his limbs from the nearly octopus-like grip that Seifer has on him. Zell wriggles, which only succeeds in making Seifer tighten his hold, muttering into the back of his neck.
“Where do ya think you’re going?” he asks, teeth nipping at Zell’s nape.
Zell lunges forward, trying to extricate himself, resorting to pinching at Seifer’s arm. “I have a meeting, Seif. Let me go.”
Seifer snorts and peers over his shoulder. “At 8am? Tell Puberty Boy to get a life or let the rest of us enjoy ours.”
With a huge, annoyed sigh Seifer reluctantly lets him go, only to roll over and throw his arm over his face. Zell scrambles from the bed, hopping around on the cold floor to find his clothes, casting a light Cure to rid himself of any wayward scratches, bite marks, or noticeable hickies. Seifer has this thing about his mouth…
“You better come back later,” Seifer grumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s now pulled over his head, anything to block the inevitable morning.
“Not tonight,” Zell says, balancing on one foot and then the other as he pulls on his sneakers. “Got that thing, remember?” More like somewhere else he has to be.
Zell’s already at the door, lifting a hand to key it open. “See you tomorrow, Seif,” he says, and he’s in the hall before Seifer can question him further. Lucky it’s so early that no one sees him emerge; classes don’t start until nine.
Zell breaks into a jog, hustling for the central elevator that’ll take him up to Squall’s office. The meeting doesn’t start until 8:30, technically, but Zell will take any private time with Squall he can manage. Before the meeting is always best.
It’s early enough that Squall’s secretary hasn’t arrived yet, which gives Zell free reign to stride into Squall’s office, where the commander looks about as bright-eyed as he ever gets. He’s probably already on his second cup of coffee.
Zell leans in, presses a kiss to Squall’s cheek. “Good morning, sunshine,” he says, and unceremoniously hops on the desk. Gloved hands settle on Zell’s hip, squeezing gently.
“And where have you been?” Squall asks, for once not annoyed by the wrinkling of his paperwork.
Zell grins, shoving down any niggling guilt. Choose? Impossible. “Oh. Around.”