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kinkfestTitle: Matching Steps
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chibimazoku
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 410 words
Summary: Final Fantasy IX, Kuja/Zidane: dancing - it's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
Notes: With apologies to Shakespeare for attributing his works to Lord Avon.
Zidane knew that this had to be a dream. In reality, he was lying out cold at the bottom of the Iifa tree, probably with an equally unconscious Kuja either next to him or, knowing his luck, right on top of him. In any case, there was absolutely no way any of this was real, not in the least bit because he was pretty sure it was impossible for Kuja to stand right now, much less waltz. Especially with him, since though Zidane never had any trouble with the complicated acrobatics involved in his blocking for a show or the dexterity it took to pick a pocket, dancing had never been his forte.
He said as much.
Kuja gave a little laugh in response, not missing a step. "Categorizing things in terms of 'possible' or 'impossible' is so cliché, don't you think? 'There are more things on heaven and earth' and all that, remember?"
"Don't you quote Avon at me," Zidane grumbled. He realized with a bit of annoyance that since his hand was on Kuja's shoulder and Kuja's hand, complete with the prickle of too-long nails, was on his waist, that meant the older genome was leading. Not that he minded the feel of Kuja's slim hands against him and holding his own, which was another issue altogether, but it was the principle of the thing. In retaliation, he forced them both into a turn that sent Kuja's silken sleeves billowing. "Why dancing, anyway? I think my subconscious has a lot to answer for."
"It's always been dancing with us," Kuja said airily. "I lead and you follow. First to the rhythm of the crystal, and then into our little game of cat and mouse. Everything has been a spectacular masquerade ball so far."
Zidane had a sudden flash of one of Treno's larger parties, all glittering gowns and fantastic masks. He'd attended one once, in the sense that he'd snuck in long enough to flirt with a few ladies and make off with a few more bits of jewelry. There'd been a dance then, too-- one round with a pretty redhead, and another with a strangely familiar lithe figure--
Before that somewhat disturbing train of thought could go any further, the amused tone of Kuja's voice brought Zidane back to the present. "Besides," Kuja murmured, leaning uncomfortably close until his breath ghosted over Zidane's lips, "whoever said this was your subconscious?"
The dance continued.
Author:
chibimazokuRating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 410 words
Summary: Final Fantasy IX, Kuja/Zidane: dancing - it's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
Notes: With apologies to Shakespeare for attributing his works to Lord Avon.
Zidane knew that this had to be a dream. In reality, he was lying out cold at the bottom of the Iifa tree, probably with an equally unconscious Kuja either next to him or, knowing his luck, right on top of him. In any case, there was absolutely no way any of this was real, not in the least bit because he was pretty sure it was impossible for Kuja to stand right now, much less waltz. Especially with him, since though Zidane never had any trouble with the complicated acrobatics involved in his blocking for a show or the dexterity it took to pick a pocket, dancing had never been his forte.
He said as much.
Kuja gave a little laugh in response, not missing a step. "Categorizing things in terms of 'possible' or 'impossible' is so cliché, don't you think? 'There are more things on heaven and earth' and all that, remember?"
"Don't you quote Avon at me," Zidane grumbled. He realized with a bit of annoyance that since his hand was on Kuja's shoulder and Kuja's hand, complete with the prickle of too-long nails, was on his waist, that meant the older genome was leading. Not that he minded the feel of Kuja's slim hands against him and holding his own, which was another issue altogether, but it was the principle of the thing. In retaliation, he forced them both into a turn that sent Kuja's silken sleeves billowing. "Why dancing, anyway? I think my subconscious has a lot to answer for."
"It's always been dancing with us," Kuja said airily. "I lead and you follow. First to the rhythm of the crystal, and then into our little game of cat and mouse. Everything has been a spectacular masquerade ball so far."
Zidane had a sudden flash of one of Treno's larger parties, all glittering gowns and fantastic masks. He'd attended one once, in the sense that he'd snuck in long enough to flirt with a few ladies and make off with a few more bits of jewelry. There'd been a dance then, too-- one round with a pretty redhead, and another with a strangely familiar lithe figure--
Before that somewhat disturbing train of thought could go any further, the amused tone of Kuja's voice brought Zidane back to the present. "Besides," Kuja murmured, leaning uncomfortably close until his breath ghosted over Zidane's lips, "whoever said this was your subconscious?"
The dance continued.
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