Fancy a Dance? (Final Fantasy VIII fanfiction)

[deemoyza]

Title: Fancy a Dance? (2,737 words)
Chapters: 1
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Rating/Warnings: General Audiences / No warnings apply
Character(s): Quistis Trepe, Irvine Kinneas
Relationships: Irvine & Quistis
Summary: As part of a bet with Xu, Quistis attends a masquerade ball in Deling City. She's enjoying herself and the anonymity afforded by the concept, until she bumps into one of the last people she'd expect to see there.

The strains of a string orchestra filtered through the doors to the ballroom of the Galbadia Hotel to the corner of the foyer where Quistis stood, skeptically eyeing the mask in her hand.  It was a deep shade of blue, a close match to the long satin gown she wore, and was decorated with golden arabesques and silver gems and a pair of dark, iridescent feathers rising from the left side.  It was no doubt a lovely creation, though surely it wouldn’t obscure her identity.  She felt frivolous enough having bought the gown and made the trip; the last thing she needed was one of her students, current or former, to recognize her. 

Not that there should be any shame in attending a masquerade ball, but having developed a reputation for being serious and austere, Quistis knew that any recognition of her would be met at first with shock, then effusive surprise—Instructor Trepe, I never thought I'd see you someplace like this!—which, while well-intentioned, felt incredibly patronizing.  Fear of this exact situation resided in the back of her mind at all times, and had dissuaded her from pursuing several interests she might have enjoyed, and even now, she struggled to not turn around and head back toward her room, to shed her gown for comfortable pajamas and call it a night.

At eight o'clock.

How old was she, again?

"You've got to lighten up," Xu had told her time and again, "especially in this line of work.  None of us know which assignment could be our last, and you don't want to die without having lived a little, right?"

Quistis had brushed off this advice for years, but after the events of nearly two years ago, she could no longer deny that Xu was right.  Watching reality melt away around her, not knowing if she would return to the proper place, let alone time, forced her to confront her mortality in a manner far more intimate than armed conflict, and left her with a restlessness she could not explain.  She settled back into a routine at Balamb Garden, her instructor's license reinstated, and tried to become the poised, staid SeeD everyone thought they knew again, yet she was hungry for new experiences.  Practically starving for them.

She indulged this hunger in individual pursuits at first: refining her airship piloting technique under Selphie's tutelage, learning how to play the piano (never again would she be embarrassed as she was at Fisherman's Horizon!), and taking up cross-country skiing during an extended visit to Trabia Garden.

"Not a bad start," Xu said, "but what about really pushing yourself out of your comfort zone?"

Quistis grinned.  "I have heard of a practice of skydiving from slow-speed airships."

Xu narrowed her eyes.  "Why do I get the feeling that you'd actually enjoy that?  You'd come back insufferably smug, wearing it like a badge.  Or, you'd be a gory mess on the ground.  But that's not what I mean."

"What, then?"

"When are you going to let yourself be frivolous?  Do something just for the sake of it, and not because it might be useful later on?  I'm well acquainted with Brave Quistis and Smart Quistis.  I wanna see Silly Quistis.  Or, better yet—"  Xu opened her desk drawer and rummaged through it, pulling out an envelope, from which she produced a card— "how about Fancy Quistis?"

Quistis took the card, a simple ivory half-fold with gold trim and an embossed G on the front.  Opening it, she read: You are formally invited to the 67^th Annual Galbadia Harvest Moon Masquerade Ball – Galbadia Hotel Ballroom – Deling City – October 28^th, 7:30 PM.  Quistis set the invitation on Xu's desk and slid it back to her.  "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"I can hardly tolerate the graduation ball we have here.  I don't enjoy formal dances."

"Why?  You dance well, and you're never lacking for willing partners—"

"Who, more often than not, tend to be a little… handsy."

"Smack them across the face and move on to the next one."

Quistis huffed.  "Xu, you don't—how did you get this invitation, anyway?"

Xu pursed her lips and shifted her gaze away from Quistis'.  "A certain someone at G-Garden."

"I didn't know you had somebody over there."

"Not really.  It's more of wishful thinking on his part right now.  Anyway, he can't go, and neither can I.  I don't want this invitation to go to waste, and you're looking for something exciting to do, so this is perfect!"

"No."

"Oh, come on, it'll be good for you to get out there and be among people other than SeeDs and cadets for a change!"

"No."

"What if I make it interesting?"  When Quistis raised an eyebrow, Xu smiled and leaned back in her chair.  "I'll bet you half of my next paycheck that you won't go through with it."

"You can't buy me out."

"Half of my next paycheck and my entire deck of Triple Triad cards."

"Xu…"

"Squall cleaned both of us out a couple years ago, and you know you wanna get your rank back."

Quistis chuckled.  "This is ridiculous."

"That's not a 'no.'"

"At this point, I'd settle for peace and quiet from you."

"All right.  Half of my check, my whole deck of cards, and peace and quiet.  Deal?"

"A month of peace and quiet.  No badgering, just normal conversation."

"You drive a hard bargain, Trepe.  I'm in."

Now, however, running her finger along the mask's elastic band and watching other attendees arrive—couples, all of them—Quistis felt that she had not bargained hard enough.  Money and playing cards were not payment enough for the awkwardness that awaited her inside the ballroom.  But as she eyed the long walk back to the elevators, her pride slowly replaced her fear; she had never backed out of any contract, and she was not going to let a silly bet tarnish that part of her reputation.  She slipped the mask over her head, adjusted it in one of the long oval mirrors hanging on the wall, and headed toward the ballroom door.

She opened the door and was struck by a flood of color and sound.  The chandeliers bathed the room in a warm light and masks and gowns glittered beneath it in every shade imaginable.  Along one wall, uniformed staff stood behind long tables set with trays of champagne flutes and small bites, and at the far end of the room, a string ensemble was halfway through a classical rendition of a popular song.  Just to the side of the doorway, an older gentleman in a tuxedo approached Quistis, inspected her invitation, then escorted her to a table and wished her a pleasant evening. 

This wasn't as bad as she feared.

No, this wasn't bad at all.

Whoever else was to be seated at the table had either not yet arrived or were currently dancing, so Quistis availed herself of the relative privacy to unclench her jaw and let her shoulders relax.  Contrary to the teenagers and young adults that attended SeeD balls, many attendees at this ball were older, ranging from Quistis' age to silver-haired couples whose movements were a touch slower than those of the other dancers.  Quistis watched the dancers sway and step to the music, and she soon felt herself moved by it, as well.  By the time the ensemble launched into another song, her awkwardness melted away, content as she was to simply listen to the music.

She did not remain alone for long, however: several men invited her to dance, and were perfect gentlemen about it, keeping their hands strictly where propriety demanded, and she even shared a dance with another woman, who wished to keep dancing while her husband sat down to rest his arthritic knee.  Conversation flowed easily, if not deeply; an exchange of names, small talk about the music or the food or where the dancers hailed from, and just as quickly, they were gone.   But Quistis enjoyed the lightheartedness, and most importantly, the anonymity of it all.  Due in no small part to the masks, of course, and also to the diversity of the crowd.  Here, she was not Instructor Trepe, SeeD prodigy and teenagers' fascination; she was simply a woman in a blue gown and mask who liked to dance. 

She had not realized how heavily her Garden reputation weighed on her until she was able to slip free from it.  Thus liberated, she felt lighter and more confident, her shoulders straighter, her smile easier, and her courage bolstered.  This heady sensation drove her to initiate conversation where she otherwise might not, and to invite dance partners of her own, including the tall gentleman in a dark green mask who walked in the door at a quarter past nine and took a seat across the table from her.

In retrospect, there were plenty of telltale clues to this man's identity from the moment she was in his arms, from his long auburn hair pulled into a low ponytail to the wide, tilted grin he offered her.  Her logical conclusion, however, seemed so implausible that she refused to believe it and focused on the dance.  The man spoke little but danced very well, keeping Quistis on the dancefloor for three consecutive songs, all of varying tempo and dance style.  It was only when they both sat at the table again that she asked his name.

He bowed his head, swept his arm in a deferential motion, and said, in a drawl that turned Quistis' insides to ice, "No, ladies first, I insist."

Quistis stared at the slate-blue eyes behind the mask, then reached over and lifted it off of his face.  "Irvine Kinneas!"

"Ouch!  Hey, lady, what're you doing?"  Irvine grabbed his mask and placed it back over his eyes.  "Wait, that tone… Quisty?  Is that you?"  His long arm shot across the table and he returned Quistis' favor, pulling several strands of hair along with her mask.

"Stop that!  Yes, it's me.  What are you doing here?"

"I wanna know the same.  And, hey, ladies first."

"I had an invitation."

"No kidding.  They'd have turned you away without one."

"Then how did you get in?"

"I've got one, too."  He reached into his tuxedo jacket and produced his invitation.  "Won it in a raffle at Garden.  I entered for a state-of-the-art T-board—Zell made it look so cool—and I ended up with this."

Quistis adjusted her mask and smoothed her hair.  "Just the one?  Usually they're given in pairs."

"No, I got a pair.  Sefie's out on assignment right now, so I gave it to—wait a minute, you're here solo, too.  Where'd you get your invitation?"

"Xu had it.  She said she got it from someone at…"  Was Irvine Xu's "someone" at G-Garden?  He was one of the current firearms instructors there, but the way she'd talked about him—

"Galbadia Garden," Irvine finished for her.  "Yeah, that was me.  I originally invited Sefie, but when she got deployed, she gave the invitation to Xu thinking that Xu would, I dunno, sell it or raffle it off to a SeeD or something.  I didn't think she'd palm it off on you.  Heck, I didn't even know you liked this kind of stuff."

"I don't."  Quistis crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep the kernel of shame there from growing.  "She said it would be good for me to move out of my comfort zone, to be a little frivolous."

"And she's right, you know."

"I know.  But it's not easy.  I mean, it was, before I bumped into you.  I was enjoying being anonymous, for once."

"Hey, don't blame me!  You can still enjoy yourself, and I won't tell a soul who you are."

A grin tugged at Quistis' lips.  "I'd appreciate that."

"It's not a bad thing, though.  Having fun."

"You're right.  It's not bad, for normal people.  I'm not normal, though.  I have a reputation for being serious and mature, and I feel a responsibility to maintain that, even outside of Garden."

"Responsibility, or fear?"

"What?"

Irvine leaned back and placed his hands behind his head.  "Is Quistis Trepe afraid of people finding out she's human?  That she can have fun and relax and be a little bit frivolous now and then?  I thought we squashed those silly fears a couple years ago."

"I think it only made them worse.  If I'm not who people expect me to be, then who am I?"

"A really good dancer.  C'mon, Quisty, you're getting too deep into your own head again.  Look around you.  No one's laughing at you.  Heck, they're not even looking at you!  So, cut loose a little!  Now's your chance."  He reached over and tapped her mask.  "Whaddaya say, fancy another dance?"

Quistis looked at the crowd.  Like Irvine said, no one was looking in their direction except in casual glances.  Many people were laughing because they were enjoying themselves, not making fun of her.  And so far, the only person who'd recognized her was Irvine, and that's only because she recognized him first.  She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, her shoulders straightening again.  "Absolutely.  Lead the way."

"Uh-uh.  Ladies first."

As they danced to mid-tempo song, Quistis rubbed the lapel of Irvine's jacket between her thumb and forefinger.  It was good quality material.  "Where did you get this?  For some reason, I can't fathom you owning formal clothes."

"Well, a SeeD's always gotta be prepared."  He smiled.  "Nah, you're right.  It's a rental."

"You wear it well."  She was quiet for a moment.  "Is that why you kept the invitation?  Your rental was already paid for?  I'm surprised you didn't try to sell it after Selphie couldn't make it."

"Well, yes and no.  I could've gotten my money back for the tux, but I guess I was just curious to see how the other half of society lives.  And I gotta say, it's not bad.  A guy could get used to this."

"He'd have to buy his own tux first."

"Maybe, or he could be a trendsetter instead.  Give me a few more of these shindigs, and you'll be seeing dusters on the runway and cowboy boots on the ballroom floor in no time." 

"How do you do it?"

"What, set trends?  Well, you see, I've got a natural charm, and—"

"No.  How do you not care what people think?"

Irvine chuckled.  "Oh, I care plenty about what people think.  Especially those I'm close to.  But you can't let it rule your life.  You can't cage yourself in others' expectations.  They'll just have to adjust to you."  He tapped her mask again, right on the silver gem in the center.  "I'm proud of you, Quisty.  This is a big step."

"Thank you."  The song ended, and the ensemble launched into a slow one.  Quistis and Irvine looked at each other, then at the couples pressed close together.  "Perhaps this would be a good time to get something to eat."

"You said it!"  As they left the dance floor for the refreshment tables, he shook his head.  "Wait'll I tell Sefie that you got her invitation!  Man, she'll flip!"

"You said you weren't going to tell anyone."

"No one here.  But come on, I can't not tell anyone about this.  Besides, Sefie'll want a full report."  He shoved a canape into his mouth.

Quistis put her hands on her hips.  "Irvine Kinneas!"

"Kinneas?"  A female voice piped up behind them.  "Professor Kinneas?  Oh my gosh, Professor Kinneas is here!"  A trio of young women approached the refreshments table, heading directly for Irvine.  Irvine grabbed a drink to wash down his canape and ducked, scuttling past Quistis toward the door. 

"Lovely seeing you, Quisty," he said, "but it's high time I get going!"

At his movement, the young women squealed and gave pursuit, leaving a laughing Quistis in their wake.  She no longer cared about her bet with Xu; seeing Irvine running from women was reward enough.

"That Kinneas sure is something with the ladies," a man behind her said.

"He's always aspired to be," Quistis replied.  "Was one of them your dance partner?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"She'll be back soon.  I'm sure Irvine has found a place to hide by now.  In the meantime, though—" She flashed a smile, her nascent social confidence returning, warm and invigorating—"fancy a dance?"