*****
Do you feel the same again
A return to the within
Trying hard to make amends
For your failings and your faults
And this life
It makes you wonder
*****

“Rain. Dust for weeks, and now rain. Kupo…This is great, just great.”

Morrison sighed, resting his head against his tiny arms as he floated in front of the windowsill.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, kupo,” Chimomo said. He was smiling as he stared out the window, a stark contrast to the glum expression on the older moogle’s face. “We haven’t had rain like this in years. It’s good for the land.”

“But bad for my indigestion,” Morrison grumbled, only to turn and glare when Chimomo chuckled.

“What the heck does it have to do with your indigestion?” Momatose demanded. He too was frowning slightly as he watched the falling rain outside the window.

“I get indigestion when I get nervous,” Morrison said sourly. “And I get nervous when I see that nut out wandering around in the rain.”

As he said this, he pointed, and the others shifted until they had the same view as he did. True to Morrison’s word, Kuja was out in the rain, slowly pacing back and forth, his eyes on the ground and hands folded behind his back.

“Oh! Kupo! I didn’t see him there,” Chimomo said, and then he broke out laughing. “Boy, he is a total nutter. It must be freezing out there!”

“I see your point,” Momatose said with a soft sigh. “Zidane’s going to go off the deep end when he sees this.”

All of them started almost guiltily when they heard the sound of a familiar voice.

“Kuja?” the voice called, and a moment later Zidane clattered up the stairs with his usual grace. “Kuja?”

All three of the moogles stared at him wordlessly when he appeared in the living room doorway, leaning in to glance around the room.

“Hey, have you guys seen Kuja?” Zidane said, frowning slightly and scratching his head. “It’s raining pretty hard out there…I hope he didn’t get caught out in it.”

“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t get *caught* in it,” Morrison said somewhat sarcastically, “but I can’t promise that he didn’t wander *into* it…”

“What?” Zidane said, quickly striding over to the window. When he caught sight of Kuja he drew in a quick breath, and then burst out a short laugh. “What the hell is he doing?”

“We’ve been standing here trying to figure that out, actually,” Chimomo said, scratching the back of his head in imitation of Zidane’s earlier motion.

“All right. Hold the fort ‘til I get back,” Zidane said, sighing quietly, the expression on his face torn between amusement and exasperation. He grabbed a coat out of the cupboard and pulled it on as he headed for the door. “And get some towels ready, would ya?”

“Sure, Zidane,” Chimomo answered with a smile and a wave. “Good luck, kupo.”

Zidane just nodded back and disappeared out the door.

“What a raving nutcase,” Morrison remarked, shaking his head as he watched Kuja wander back and forth in the rain.

“I’d rather he was walking in the rain than trying to destroy the world,” Momatose said, with the slightest hint of a smile.

Morrison was silent for a moment.

“Good point, kupo,” he said finally, nodding before he turned away. “Come on…let’s get some towels.”

*****

Zidane took his time as he walked to meet Kuja. He could see that the mage was engaged in some sort of private reverie, and he had no intention of interrupting without care, in case Kuja wasn’t aware of his approach.

He stopped a few feet away, stuffing his hands into his pockets and blowing out a breath between gently pursed lips as he glanced up into the rain, wincing when it hit his eyes. When he glanced back down, Kuja had turned and was looking straight at him, deep blue eyes filled with an odd amusement that warmed Zidane’s heart.

“Kuja,” Zidane said, quirking a slight smile, “why are you standing in the rain…with no shirt?”

Kuja glanced down at his bare chest, then glanced back up, smiled slightly, and spread his arms wide, opening his palms towards the sky. Zidane watched, smile widening, as Kuja tilted his head back and closed his eyes, opening his mouth to the touch of the rain.

“I have never stood in the rain before,” Kuja said quietly, and then he dropped his chin to eye Zidane somewhat coyly as he added, “…with no shirt.”

“…Right,” Zidane said, rolling his eyes and rubbing his now-soaked arms. “Well, if you get pneumonia, we’re screwed, ‘cause we don’t really have any…”

Kuja waved a hand, brushing off his concern, and turned away, starting his slow pacing again. Zidane watched in silence for a moment as Kuja walked, eyes closed and head tilted up. He seemed to find pleasure in the feeling of rain against his face, and Zidane found himself smiling fondly again despite his incomprehension. It had been nearly two months since he and Kuja had settled here, and his pleasure at the small idiosyncrasies constantly being revealed to him had never lessened.

“I suppose there are a lot of things you’ve never done,” he said after a moment, in a soft voice that reflected the turn of his thoughts.

“Yes,” Kuja agreed simply, stopping in place and lifting his arms again. Zidane watched the raindrops roll along the planes of Kuja’s chest, and felt a sudden sense of pain at the thought of the past…Kuja’s past, a life of pain and loneliness, a life of never knowing what it would be like to be normal…

He was trying to come up with something else---something better---to say, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Kuja’s voice, quiet and contemplative.

“So many things I have never done…” Kuja mused, opening his eyes and glancing around at the rain-drenched landscape, dust turned to mud at his feet. “I have never bothered to watch a sunset, or build a sand castle, or run in the newly fallen snow. I never really held a meaningful conversation, or knew the touch of a caring hand…until you.”

Zidane hoped the rain hid his slight blush. He rubbed the back of his head and shrugged.

“These things never mattered to me,” Kuja said, turning to meet Zidane’s eyes. Zidane felt his heart clench at the pain in Kuja’s gaze. “Or at least, I told myself they didn’t matter. Many of them wouldn’t have occurred to me. Why does it matter to me now, that my life has been devoid of so many…simplicities?”

“It’s nice for things to be simple, once in a while,” Zidane answered, wondering if the shivers running through his body were just from the cold. “I don’t know…I guess when you’ve lived a life without freedom, those little liberties can come to mean a lot.”

Kuja turned away, eyes focusing on some distant point.

“I don’t know,” Zidane repeated, sighing softly. “But hey, I’m glad you’re taking advantage of the opportunity to play in the rain a little bit…I used to do that too, when I was a kid, even though Baku always kicked my ass for dragging mud into the hideout.”

Kuja was still turned away, so Zidane couldn’t tell whether he received any response, humored or otherwise, to this. After a moment he shrugged and turned away.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he said quietly as he turned.

“Zidane,” Kuja said, in an odd, almost pleading tone that instantly made Zidane spin back to face him. Kuja lifted a hand towards him, hesitating only slightly before he opened his palm up towards the rain.

“Join me?” Kuja suggested, sounding strangely solemn. His eyes were as closed off as usual, the pain of earlier gone, but his voice revealed the feelings his face tried to hide.

Zidane smirked slightly and shook his head.

“Thanks, but certain parts are starting to go blue, and I still need ‘em,” he said, and this time Kuja’s lips did curve upwards slightly in response. “See you inside.”

Kuja nodded and turned back to his slow pacing, and Zidane headed back for the house.

A moment later, Kuja turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and lifted both eyebrows in question when Zidane stopped a few feet from him.

“All right,” Zidane said with a quiet, long-suffering sigh. He rolled his eyes and started to take off his jacket. “But if I get pneumonia, we’re screwed, because we don’t really have any…”

“Zidane,” Kuja said in a tone that leaned towards warm, a slight smile at his lips as he shook his head.

“All right,” Zidane said again with a grin. He tossed his jacket to the ground and then tugged off his shirt, dropping it. “I’m here. Now what?”

Kuja lifted his hands, palms up.

“I don’t really know,” he answered, eyes flashing with brief warmth. “All I know is that it makes me feel free…”

“Yeah. I always kind of felt invincible, walking around in the rain like it didn’t bother me, even though I was cold as hell,” Zidane said with a mild smirk, turning and lifting his arms, as Kuja had done, to let the rain spill over his now-bare chest. For a moment he felt Kuja’s eyes on him, but then Kuja turned away, raising his own arms and closing his eyes again. “One time, I didn’t realize just how cold it was…guess I got kind of numb…and when I got back to the hideout, I just turned beet red as soon as the heat inside hit me…Blank laughed his ass off. ‘Course, even then, he didn’t find that as funny as when I told him that certain important parts weren’t working anymore…he tried to tell me it was permanent. ‘Walk in the rain, and it’s a lifetime of reduced sensation,’ he said…damn, he has a sick mind…as if a guy would find that funny…”

He glanced over to find Kuja smiling only slightly as he stood letting the rain caress his closed eyelids.

“Okay, so I’m rambling,” Zidane said with a quick laugh. “I can’t help it…damn, I’m cold…”

“Come closer, then,” Kuja suggested simply, and when Zidane didn’t move, he turned and fixed Zidane under a penetrating gaze, one eyebrow lifted.

“Yes sir,” Zidane said quickly, chuckling as he hurried over to stand next to Kuja. When Kuja lifted his arm slightly, a silent offering, Zidane didn’t hesitate; he quickly moved up close, sighing with relief as Kuja’s arm settled around his shoulders. His own arm wound around the taller man’s waist, and he turned his face against Kuja’s neck, pressing himself close enough to share some of Kuja’s body heat. It didn’t work very well---Kuja had been standing in the rain long enough that his skin had gone clammy---but Zidane didn’t mind…he was happier here than standing off by himself.

“You okay?” he murmured into Kuja’s neck, and Kuja nodded, his hand idly stroking along Zidane’s arm.

“Yes, thank you,” Kuja said quietly, and Zidane smiled against Kuja’s skin.

“So, if you didn’t stare at sunsets or make sand castles or play in the snow or any of that, what did you do? I mean, when you weren’t…” He trailed off, unsure how to put what he was trying to say.

“When I wasn’t out creating mayhem, stealing souls and plotting to conquer the world?” Kuja offered, a bit caustically, and Zidane sighed, gently stroking Kuja’s back.

“Yeah. When you weren’t doing all that.”

“I read, mainly,” Kuja said, the solemn tone returning to his voice.

“Yeah…I saw all those books, back at your castle,” Zidane said with a slight smile. “What’d you read?”

“Anything I could get my hands on,” Kuja answered simply, and Zidane chuckled. “I found that escaping to the fantastic worlds of fiction eased my own…emptiness was what I called it then, but I suppose it was little more than loneliness.”

“But what did you like to read the most?” Zidane pressed, glancing up to meet Kuja’s gaze. He was surprised by the melancholy tinge to Kuja’s dark eyes.

“I suppose the tragic romances appealed to me more than anything else,” Kuja said, and he smiled a bit at the surprise on Zidane’s face. “You would assume that my preference would have been for blood and violence, wouldn’t you? But no…I liked the sad romances, without happy endings.”

“Ouch,” Zidane said with a grimace.

“I suppose,” Kuja said noncommittally, turning again to stare off at something only he could see. Zidane watched him for a moment, until the lack of expression on Kuja’s face began to get to him, and he turned to nuzzle into Kuja’s neck again.

“I kind of liked the tragedies too,” Zidane said after a moment, quietly. “Did you read novels, or…?”

“Plays, mostly,” Kuja answered, his voice faraway though his focus obviously remained on Zidane, at least to some extent. “I was particularly fond of Lord Avon’s work.”

“No kidding?” Zidane said, grinning as he leaned back to look at Kuja again. “His are my favorites too. I’m an actor, you know…sometimes.”

“I know,” Kuja said, and when he glanced downward his eyes were twinkling with mirth. Zidane’s grin widened to see the wry smile at Kuja’s lips. “I saw your last production.”

“No kidding?” Zidane said again, eyes going wide. The last play he had appeared in had been the production of Lord Avon’s ‘I Want to be Your Canary’, the night he had first met Dagger and embarked on the series of adventures that had led him here, to the odd predicament of being alone with a former enemy in a desolate landscape, cut off from the Mist continent. “I didn’t see you.”

“I was cloaked,” Kuja said, smirking a bit as he lifted a hand to brush the wet hair back from Zidane’s forehead. “I didn’t want to be noticed.”

“You do sort of stick out in a crowd,” Zidane said, waggling his eyebrows slightly, and Kuja smiled. “Hey…you said you like Lord Avon’s work, but he mostly has happy endings…not in that particular play, but mostly.”

“I know,” Kuja said quietly, and Zidane felt Kuja’s fingers tighten slightly over his arm. “But the quality of his work…I couldn’t help but enjoy it. And sometimes, I didn’t mind the happy endings so much…”

“Glad to hear it,” Zidane said with a slight smile, patting Kuja’s back before he gently pulled away. “Come on, will you come inside now? We’re both completely soaked…”

“Very well,” Kuja said, briefly returning the smile. “Yes.”

Zidane grinned and offered his hand, and Kuja took it with only a touch of hesitance, allowing Zidane to lead him back to the house, stopping only to pick up Zidane’s shirt and jacket on the way.

“Hey guys!” Zidane called as they walked through the door. “We’re home!”

“About bloody time, kupo,” Morrison muttered as he fluttered over, holding out a big, fluffy towel. Chimomo appeared behind him with another, and Mocha floated up with one draped over her head. “What the heck were you doing out there?”

“Oh, just catching up…ya know,” Zidane said with a quick glance at Kuja before he grinned brightly at the moogles and accepted the towels, tousling the fur on Mocha’s head as he pulled the towel off of it.

“Sure. Whatever,” Morrison said, staring disdainfully at the wet trail Zidane and Kuja had made from the door to where they stood, dripping onto the carpet.

“Well,” Chimomo said, grinning and clapping his little hands together once to get Morrison’s attention. “We’ll be going, then…”

“We will?” Morrison said with a frown, only to protest with a loud “Kupopo!” when Chimomo and Mocha grabbed his arms and dragged him off into the kitchen, shutting the door behind themselves.

Zidane was chuckling as he turned to Kuja and held up a towel.

“Those guys are too much,” he said mirthfully, and then his smile faltered slightly as he watched Kuja take the towel and immediately fumble not to drop it, his hands trembling too badly to keep his grip.

“Whoa,” Zidane murmured, closing his hands around Kuja’s and glancing up at him with concern. Kuja reluctantly met his eyes. “You really were out there for a while. You’re freezing. Here…”

He reached up, moving the towel around Kuja’s shoulders, and kept a hold on either side, enclosing Kuja between the towel and himself. Kuja shivered against him as he gently rubbed the towel along Kuja’s back and arms.

“Come on, take off your pants,” he murmured quietly, his breath puffing lightly against Kuja’s shoulder.

“I’m not really in the mood,” Kuja said, attempting a light-hearted drawl, and he smiled slightly when Zidane glanced at him, surprised.

“Damn, man, you always startle me when you do that,” Zidane said with a light chuckle, shaking his head before he turned his focus back to his task, gently drying Kuja off as Kuja worked to get out of his pants, wet and clinging to his legs. “I’ll go along thinking I’ve finally figured you out, and then a joke comes out of nowhere, bam. I tell you, I don’t know if my poor little heart can take all the shocks.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Kuja said breathlessly as Zidane moved the towel lower. Zidane smiled when Kuja’s hands touched his shoulders, as though to hold himself upright, as Zidane gently dried off Kuja’s legs and the more sensitive areas in between. The wet fur of Kuja’s tail was rubbing lightly against his arm as he worked, and he grinned at the sensation.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re not in the mood to me,” Zidane said a bit coyly, brushing the back of his hand against Kuja’s burgeoning erection. Kuja caught his breath, leaning forward to brush his lips over Zidane’s forehead.

“Give me a moment,” Kuja said, and Zidane could feel Kuja’s smile against his skin. “Certain parts are still having trouble working…”

“At least we know it’s not permanent,” Zidane teased, laughing when Kuja growled and reached down to grab the towel. His shudders had stopped entirely, replaced by his usual calm.

“That’s enough,” Kuja growled lightly, smiling as he tossed aside the wet towel and bent to retrieve one of the others from where Zidane had dropped them on the floor. Zidane grinned, and Kuja chuckled as Zidane quickly shimmied out of his pants and boxers and lifted his arms, sighing with pleasure when Kuja stepped closer, wrapping the towel around him and then starting his own gentle process of drying Zidane.

“Hold on a second…you’re dripping on me,” Zidane said after a moment, and Kuja pulled back to let Zidane retrieve the last towel. Kuja went back to his previous motions as Zidane lifted the towel and rubbed gently at Kuja’s hair, trying to avoid the sensitive feathers at Kuja’s scalp. He stopped, letting out a sharp breath, when Kuja dropped the towel and stepped forward, his hands curling around Zidane’s buttocks and tugging him upwards. He gasped as he felt the length of Kuja’s erection grind along his own, and clutched onto Kuja’s shoulders as a sizable amount of blood rushed away from his head.

“Hm…” he said breathlessly. “Got those parts working again, eh?”

“Yes,” Kuja whispered, nuzzling his nose against Zidane’s neck and then kissing the hollow at the base of Zidane’s throat. Zidane shuddered, trying to pull Kuja closer. “Mm…Zidane…”

“Uh-huh?” Zidane answered, closing his eyes and leaning up a bit to brush his lips across Kuja’s temple. When Kuja answered by thrusting himself against Zidane again, his hands tightening their hold on Zidane’s butt, Zidane chuckled softly. “Uh-huh. So…uh…the couch?”

Kuja nodded, pulling back slightly, and Zidane grabbed both of his hands, tugging gently and smiling warmly as he moved backwards towards the couch, Kuja following. He stopped when his legs hit, and then he glanced down at it.

“Hey, pass me one of those towels, would you?” he said, and Kuja lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s going to get wet anyway,” he said, and Zidane grinned.

“Water dries,” he said, and he waggled his eyebrows to emphasize his point as he added, “But we might make a mess that won’t…”

“Oh,” Kuja said, lips curving in a mild smile. He turned and went back to retrieve a towel. “I see your point.”

Zidane nodded, grinning helplessly as he accepted the towel and turned to lay it out on the couch. He stiffened when he felt Kuja’s hands close over his hips, and the touch of Kuja’s erection against his backside.

“Jeez, hold on a minute, would you?” he said with a breathless laugh, reaching back to run his hand through Kuja’s hair, gently holding the back of Kuja’s head as Kuja placed a line of kisses along Zidane’s shoulder.

“You’re speaking to possibly the most impatient Genome ever created,” Kuja reminded him, and Zidane snorted with laughter as he turned, wrapping his arms around Kuja’s waist even as Kuja circled his arms around Zidane.

“I almost forgot,” Zidane said coyly, and Kuja growled softly. Then Zidane let out a bark of laughter as Kuja swept him up into his arms, quickly laying him on the couch. He grinned, wriggling into a more comfortable position against the slight scratch of terry cloth, before Kuja settled over him. He cradled Kuja between his legs, smiling warmly as he kissed Kuja’s forehead and brushed the hair away from his face before leaning up for a kiss on the mouth.

Kuja sighed into the kiss, then pulled back and smiled gently as he leaned up, keeping himself upright with one arm. The other hand trailed along Zidane’s chest and stomach, pausing only briefly to tweak Zidane’s nipples. He listened with pleasure to the gasp this caused, and grinned slightly at the way Zidane arched under him when his hand closed warmly around Zidane’s erection.

“Kuja,” Zidane whispered, his voice choking off as Kuja started to stroke him, his warm hand gently caressing Zidane’s full length, from base to tip, before sliding down to begin the process again. “Oh…damn…”

“You’re so beautiful,” Kuja murmured, and Zidane managed to open his eyes, feeling himself blush when he saw the warm flush of pleasure on Kuja’s face. Kuja’s hand increased its pressure, and Zidane gasped, his hands clutching onto Kuja’s arms as he thrust gently into the touch. “So beautiful like this…”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Zidane said breathlessly, and he grinned when Kuja chuckled softly. Kuja smiled as Zidane’s tail stroked along his arm, encouraging him. Then Zidane groaned loudly, closing his eyes, as Kuja released his grip and stroked his fingertips along the underside of Zidane’s erection, a feather-light touch that made him shudder with wild sensation. The lightest touch had the greatest power…he started to buck gently towards Kuja again as Kuja’s fingers traced around the head of his penis, and then Kuja’s palm brushed roughly over the tip before he started to stroke Zidane again, the same rhythmic motions as before. Kuja’s lips were against his neck, and he shivered at the duel sensation of the firm touch of Kuja’s hand and the gentle brush of Kuja’s breath.

“Oh…Kuja, I can’t…” Zidane began almost desperately, his hands clutching against Kuja’s shoulder blades as he felt the pleasure building to a peak, threatening to explode.

“Don’t try,” Kuja advised, smiling against his neck, and Zidane whispered something incoherent, thrusting helplessly against Kuja’s hand. He cried out when Kuja’s fingers abruptly closed tightly around him, jerking once in a swift, firm motion that instantly sent him over the edge. He cried out his lover’s name again as he came, dimly aware of Kuja murmuring soothingly into his ear. When he regained himself, he opened his eyes to find Kuja leaning back, away from him, using the fluid he had caught in his hand to lubricate his own erection. Zidane groaned at the sight, hands reaching desperately towards Kuja, who merely smiled and settled back on top of him, one hand dropping to position himself carefully against Zidane.

“Oh God…” Zidane whispered, staring up into Kuja’s eyes, savoring the look of passion he found there as Kuja found his place and pressed forward experimentally. Zidane groaned and shifted his legs further apart, and Kuja grunted softly as he thrust, this time harder, pushing deep into Zidane. Zidane gasped, wondering briefly at the fact that every time, the penetration felt just as shocking…and amazing…as the first. His tail wound its way around Kuja’s leg, tangling with Kuja’s tail where it rested there, and Kuja groaned quietly at the sensation.

“Oh gods…Zidane…” Kuja whispered, fighting to hold Zidane’s eyes as he gripped the fabric on either side of Zidane tightly for leverage. He rocked back and forth, slowly gaining his rhythm, moving deeper with each thrust. Zidane smiled up at him, again attempting the hopeless task of moving Kuja’s hair out of his eyes and enjoying the drape of the silken strands against his own chest. After that Kuja didn’t speak, his attention entirely focused as he started to thrust harder, pulling out further each time. Zidane gasped, jumping slightly beneath him with each thrust, moaning helplessly every time Kuja hit his prostate.

“Zidane…” Kuja whispered once more before he closed his eyes and threw back his head, letting out a loud, incoherent cry as he spasmed deep within Zidane. Zidane groaned, holding onto Kuja tightly as he thrust roughly into Zidane twice more, then collapsed against him. Zidane gently stroked Kuja’s hair as he fought to catch his breath, his face buried against Zidane’s neck. A moment later, Zidane whispered a soft protest as Kuja lifted himself away, gently withdrawing from Zidane’s body. He opened his eyes, his gaze silently asking Kuja a question, but Kuja just smiled and snaked his hand between Zidane’s legs.

Zidane gasped again as two of Kuja’s long fingers thrust into him without preamble, gently stroking his prostate. Zidane cried out softly at the touch, so firm and so obviously wanting. One of his hands closed around Kuja’s, gently guiding his motions, showing him exactly what he wanted, until he was squirming underneath Kuja’s touch, groaning as he clutched onto Kuja’s arm, reaching towards the end that seemed to just barely elude him.

Then Kuja smiled mischievously and bent over him, and Zidane’s eyes opened wide as he felt the hot touch of Kuja’s mouth over his erection. He bucked upwards, unable to stop himself, and cried out sharply. Kuja smiled against him, accepting everything he was given as Zidane came into his mouth. When Kuja finally pulled back, he was smirking a bit, obviously pleased with himself, as he wiped his mouth and retrieved his hand.

“Oh Jesus…” Zidane panted, groaning loudly when Kuja leaned up and kissed him. He could taste himself on Kuja’s tongue, and his hand tightened again on Kuja’s arm, where it still held a fierce grip. Kuja broke the kiss after a moment, and Zidane contented himself with the feeling of Kuja’s warm breath against his neck, and the warm press of Kuja’s body along his. When his mental faculties started to return, his first thought was automatically how strange it was that the second orgasm should be even more intense than the first.

“Wow,” Zidane said after several moments of just stroking his hands along Kuja’s back. He could feel Kuja’s breath evening out against him, and knew that if he didn’t do something, Kuja was going to fall asleep. “I’m still amazed at how many talents you possess.”

“You’re welcome,” Kuja murmured drowsily, the sound muffled against Zidane’s skin.

“Care to get off me now?” Zidane suggested, and he chuckled lightly when Kuja quickly lifted himself, the sleep fleeing from his face as he glanced at Zidane as though making sure he hadn’t hurt him. “I just meant that I think we should try to get to the bed before we fall asleep…I’m sure the moogles wouldn’t think to go out the back door, and we can’t leave them locked in the kitchen all night.”

Kuja laughed quietly, shaking his head, but got to his feet, a bit shakily. Zidane realized he could sympathize as he almost fell, surprised by the weakness in his legs. He leaned heavily against Kuja, who gently gripped his arm, keeping him upright.

“Damn,” Zidane said, laughing at himself. He scratched the back of his head. “Maybe we should’ve stayed put for a couple minutes…”

“We’re up now,” Kuja said firmly, sounding amused. He leaned around Zidane to retrieve the towel from the couch and scrunched it into a ball, tossing it into a corner to be dealt with later. He stopped to make sure Zidane could stand on his own, and then moved over to pick up the other two towels, tossing one to Zidane before wrapping the other around his waist, a temporary attempt at clothing. Zidane grinned at him as he did the same, then gestured towards the door that led to the kitchen. Kuja motioned for him to go ahead, so he did, walking up to it and knocking gently.

“Hey guys?” he called, before opening the door and peeking around the edge. He stopped, a helpless grin spreading across his face, when he saw the five moogles sitting around the kitchen table, each of them holding a set of five playing cards.

“Hey Zidane,” Moco said casually, not looking up, and Zidane pushed the door all the way open and gestured to Kuja before coming further into the room.

“Hey guys. What are you doing?” Zidane asked, one eyebrow raised as he peered at Moco’s hand of cards, then at Momatose’s.

“We’re playing strip poker,” Morrison said, snorting softly as he kept his gaze on his cards.

“We don’t have any clothes, Morrison,” Mocha said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh. Well, in that case, I win,” Morrison said, glancing up to smirk cheerfully before tossing his cards to the table. “Let’s go!”

“Bugger,” Momatose grumbled. “I had a perfect hand, too…”

“Come on, kupo…” Moco said, chuckling as Momatose reluctantly put down his cards and fluttered up into the air. The five of them floated slowly past Zidane, stopping to nod or wave, and then Kuja, who offered them an almost grave hello, as he usually did. Each of them smiled and nodded to him---he made them nervous, but they had grown used to him---before they all disappeared.

“Bye, Zidane!” Mocha called from the living room.

“See you tomorrow, Zidane!” Chimomo added, and Zidane grinned.

“See you, guys,” he called back.

“See you, Kuja,” Moco called, and Kuja blinked, surprised at being addressed.

“Goodbye,” he said in return, turning to lift an eyebrow at Zidane, who shrugged and smiled.

“They said goodbye to me,” Kuja said quietly, after they had heard the familiar sound of the front door slamming. “They have never said goodbye to me before.”

“You’re just too cute to resist for long,” Zidane said teasingly, and Kuja turned to blink at him before smiling and walking over to take the hand Zidane offered him. “Come on…let’s go to bed.”

Kuja nodded and followed him into the bedroom, and for the rest of the night he didn’t give another thought to the moogles…or anything else, for that matter.

*****
So you want to be my friend
Well heaven help you if you fall
You see catastrophically content
Got a witness he knows all
All my life
It's made me wonder
*****
You feel no shame
To come undone
*****