presque vu ("almost seen") - refers to the sensation of being on the brink of remembering or realizing something that you know you know. it's also called tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon.

"You look familiar to me," someone says to Seifer as he goes up to the bar for another drink.

"I get told that a lot," Seifer replies.

"I saw you across the way and I thought maybe I knew you. But I'm almost certain I don't," the stranger tells him. Seifer sets his glass on the counter and turns to look at him.

"Is that a pick-up? You're not a good flirt," he says with a smirk. The other guy, a short blond in a black tee-shirt, leans on the counter and gives Seifer a grin of his own in return.

"I'm not flirting. If I was flirting, I'd tell you you're gorgeous. Which you are," he adds, taking a sip of his drink. "But I wasn't flirting, anyway. My name's Zell."

"Seifer," he introduces himself, and holds out his hand for Zell to shake. Zell does so enthusiastically, and Seifer takes a moment to check him out, really check him out. He's easily the best-looking guy in the place, besides Seifer himself, of course. He might be half a foot shorter than Seifer but he's built, and he's got the bluest eyes Seifer has ever seen; he is thoroughly adorable.

"So are you a local or what?"

"No, I'm not," Seifer answers. The bartender comes their way and he orders another drink, and then he adds to Zell, "neither are you, I take it?"

Zell follows the line of his gaze to the tattoo in Balambese on the inside of his forearm. "Naw, I'm from Balamb," Zell replies, chuckling. "Just on holiday."

"What's it say?" Seifer asks, referring to the tattoo.

"It's a secret."

"Hmm," Seifer says, and he takes a drink after the bartender deposits a new glass in front of him. "I like this one," he remarks a moment later, pointing at the sharp black lines that decorate the left side of Zell's face. He imagines tracing the design with his tongue, and wonders if Zell's got any more.

"Thanks, it's my favorite. Where are you from?"

"Galbadia. Timber," Seifer answers.

"And what do you do there?" Zell prompts. He's sipping his drink, leaning casually against the bar, but Seifer isn't blind; he's being checked out just as much as he's blatantly checking the other man out. Zell isn't interested in his story; he's just working his way toward the part of the conversation where he can slip in a proposition. Seifer doesn't usually bother with the runaround - if he wants someone, he's got no problem saying it; but then, it has been a while since he's had a good flirt, and with a guy of Zell's caliber. So maybe he'll let it drag out a bit.

"I work at Garden. I'm an instructor," Seifer says in response to the question. Zell's smile grows.

"No shit! I'm a SeeD at Balamb," he says, which surprises Seifer a little - only because Zell doesn't have the look of a SeeD, but maybe Balamb SeeDs are different; all the ones he knows at Galbadia Garden are sort of prim and proper, whereas Zell, with his sun-bleached hair and golden tanned skin that Seifer is just dying to taste, looks like he'd be more at home on the beach. "What do you teach?"

"Weapons. I'm a gunblade specialist."

"And here I was thinking you couldn't be any more sexy," Zell says, eyes twinkling.

They both fall silent for a few moments, drinking. Zell appears thoughtful. "You didn't take the exam in Balamb, though?" he says after a bit. "I'd definitely remember you if you did."

"I took it in Galbadia."

"Huh. I'd have pegged you as older than me."

"Don't be so sure," Seifer says. "I was twenty when I took it. It was the first year Galbadia Garden offered the exam."

Zell spends a moment doing the math in his head. "So you are older than me, then," he concludes, smiling a little. "How'd you swing that? They don't cut off the exam at nineteen there?"

"I got an exemption, or something," Seifer replies with a shrug. It was eight years ago and he doesn't remember much about it, and to be honest he'd rather be talking about something else, even if Zell does seem interested. "Probably something to do with the war. Galbadia Garden was desperate for students just after that."

"Ah, yeah," Zell agrees, nodding. He falls silent again. Most people Seifer has ever met who were around during the last war have a sort of unspoken agreement to not talk about it, and Zell is evidently not exempt from this. He's staring at Seifer's face now, and after a pause, he says, "is that your souvenir, then? From the war?"

He points at the scar that runs down Seifer's face, a three-inch gash between his eyes. "No, I had it before," Seifer explains. "Training accident."

"Must be an occupational hazard of swinging around a big fuck-off sword," Zell says playfully, and Seifermight think about being offended if he weren't so goddamn cute. "I know a guy with a scar."

"Got any yourself?"

"I bet you'd like to see," Zell says coolly, throwing down the last of his drink and pushing the empty glass toward the back of the counter. Then he puts both his hands flat on the bar, and gives a little nod that Seifer interprets as an indication to move closer. He takes a step toward the other man, and stops just short of pressing himself up against Zell; the bar isn't that crowded that it could be passed off as an accident.

"You're a martial artist," Seifer says, looking down at Zell's hands, which are riddled with scars; not a one of his fingers isn't crooked, as if they'd all been broken at least once, and his knuckles have the look of having been skinned more times than he probably knows. Seifer allows himself a few seconds to imagine having those hands on him, those fingertips digging into his skin, battle-scarred palm curled around his dick. He definitely wants Zell. He doesn't remember the last time he was so immediately attracted to someone.

"Best in my field," Zell declares proudly.

"Bet you're good with your hands."

Zell gives him a sly smirk. "Best in my field," he repeats, his tone a little deeper.

The bartender passes by, and Zell declines another drink. Seifer still has half of his left but he's done with this scene already; all he wants at the moment is to take Zell somewhere private and fuck him absolutely senseless for the rest of the night. If he's not mistaken - and he rarely is - Zell's expression is saying the same thing. "How long are you in town?" Seifer asks.

"We're leaving tomorrow. What about you?"

"Wednesday," he answers.

"Well, my hotel's just up the road," Zell mentions casually, managing to make the comment seem both innocent and totally devious at the same time. "If you're…" he trails off.

"If I'm what?"

"Interested," Zell adds, grinning. He can obviously tell that Seifer is interested.

"Let's go," is Seifer's reply.

They wind their way through the crowded room and make it to the fresh air outside. It's Saturday night and there are a lot of people out in the street. Zell tells him it's about five blocks, and they start walking. Seifer tries to remember the last time he had a really good fuck - a really good one - and he can't. But he has a feeling, so strong that he'd be willing to bet on it, that Zell is going to be good.

They've only walked about two blocks before Zell stops suddenly, looking around. "Lost?" Seifer asks.

"No," the other man says, sounding distracted. Seifer hopes he's not reconsidering this idea, when Zell grabs his arm and pulls him down a narrow side street between two buildings. He hardly has time to be bewildered before Zell is shoving him up against a wall behind a stack of boxes and kissing him hard. He's strong, and Seifer likes it. He lets Zell hold him against the wall but he doesn't give over control of the kiss, enjoying the fight Zell puts up, his tongue pushing against Seifer's, his teeth sharp against Seifer's lips.

"I just couldn't wait," Zell says breathlessly a few minutes later, when it becomes necessary to stop for air.

"No complaints from me," Seifer replies, feeling light-headed.

"Did I mention you're gorgeous?"

"Might've done, yeah."

"I can't wait to see your dick," Zell breathes, grinding his hips against Seifer's thigh, which is trapped between his own. His hands are fisted in the front of Seifer's shirt and Seifer is a little worried he's going to tear it, but mainly that he's going to do it before they get to the hotel because he couldn't care less about anything but that at the moment. "I can't decide if I want to suck it or just ride you until you cry," Zell remarks.

Seifer has to take a breath before he can form a response. "Well, it's still early," he says, grabbing Zell's ass with both hands and thrusting his hips against the smaller man's. "Probably time for both."

"Are you sure we've not met before?" Zell asks suddenly.

"Positive. I wouldn't forget anyone as adorable as you."

"Ad- wh-" Zell sputters. "I'm not adorable!"

"You're absolutely the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen," Seifer says teasingly, spurred on by Zell's over-the-top offense at the compliment. He might be pushing it, but he somehow doubts that Zell is really offended - he'd never have got through twenty-some-odd years of life if he got up in arms every time someone called him cute - and it feels too easy to tease him for Seifer to resist. "How much further to your hotel?"

"Not far," Zell says, huffing a little, his cheeks red; but he responds enthusiastically when Seifer leans in to nip at his lips again, still holding him close.

"Can we get going then? Not that this isn't lovely," Seifer says, nodding at the dark, somewhat dank alley all round them, "if you're into that sort of thing, personally my standards are a bit higher-"

"You're kind of a smartass," Zell mentions, but his grin says he likes it. He steps back, putting some space between them, and pulls at the front of Seifer's coat to lead him back into the street. Then they make their way the last two and a half blocks to Zell's hotel at a rather quicker pace, where Zell shoves him into a fairly nice king suite and does just what he said he would, and a whole lot more, keeping Seifer well occupied until the early hours of the morning.

Seifer's curiosity is finally sated later when he gets to take an inventory of all of Zell's tattoos, including the tribal patterns on his calves, the one that covers his right shoulder, and the mandala design right between his shoulderblades, which Seifer traces slowly with his tongue as he fucks Zell deeply from behind, pressing him up against the headboard.

He doesn't intend to stay the whole night, but he falls asleep next to Zell, and only when Zell's mobile phone starts chirping from the bedside table late in the morning do either of them stir. Zell swats at it and knocks it to the floor, along with half a dozen condom wrappers, and he leans over the edge of the bed to retrieve it. "Woops," he says groggily, looking adorably half-asleep, the tattooed side of his face covered with pillow lines.

Seifer is already alert, sitting up and looking round the room for his clothes, which form a trail across the room from the door to the bed. He slides out of bed while Zell is occupied with his phone and starts to gather his things; he's not in any terrible rush to leave, and there's none of the usual awkwardness that sometimes comes with waking up next to a total stranger, but he probably shouldn't have stayed the night anyway. Although if Zell had no objection, Seifer wouldn't mind continuing this interlude into the day - but Zell's next words cut that idea off.

"My friends are waiting for me," he mumbles into the pillow, not sounding at all awake. "I was supposed to meet them for brunch, I forgot. Am I a terrible person?"

"So you overslept. Big deal," Seifer says, shrugging. Zell actually looks not the least bit concerned with the fact that he's late; he throws his phone carelessly onto the now-empty side of the bed where Seifer had been, and sits up.

"Oh, I'm not fussed about them at all. If they have to wait for me, it just gives them an excuse to sit at the hotel bar and drink mimosas," he replies, stretching, and giving Seifer a lovely view of the fingerprint-shaped bruises scattered across his upper arms. "Do you want a shower before you go?"

"With you in it, or without?"

Zell grins, and says cheekily, "With, of course."

They manage to take a relatively short shower, despite the fact that the suite's bathroom is practically madefor fooling around in - the shower is huge and luxurious, and the whirlpool bathtub is calling Seifer's name - and as he's drying off, a quarter hour later, Seifer remarks, "it's too bad you're not going to be in town longer."

"You can look me up if you ever make your way to Balamb," Zell says with a smirk, rubbing his hair with a big fluffy hotel towel.

"Maybe I'll take my next vacation there."

"Shall I give you my number?" Zell asks as they're getting dressed, him in a fresh tee-shirt and jeans from out of his suitcase, and Seifer in his clothes from the night before; the front of his shirt is still stretched out where Zell had yanked on it.

"Probably not necessary," Seifer replies; because really, how many short, tattooed SeeDs named Zell could there be in Balamb? He's just about to leave, checking his pockets to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything, when there's a knock on the door, and Zell looks up from the suitcase he's haphazardly cramming things into.

"That's probably my friend."

Seifer opens the door, and on the other side is a gorgeous blonde woman in a red sundress, who looks totally surprised at his appearance. "Oh, sorry," she says, looking confused. "I think maybe I have the wrong room?"

"You looking for Zell?"

"Yes," she says, frowning.

"Then you've got the right room," he tells her, and steps around her into the hallway. She looks slightly bewildered, and doesn't go into the room, but stands there and stares at him for a long moment.

Seifer crosses the hall and presses the button for the elevator. Behind him, he can hear Zell and the woman talking as Zell starts bringing his luggage out into the corridor.

"Sorry, Quisty, I could swear I had my alarm set but then I overslept-"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," she replies. "Who was that?"

"Someone I met," is Zell's answer, and there is a short pause. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing," the woman says. "I just thought… no, it's nothing."

"Don't tell me you started fancying men again?"

The woman sputters something in response, sounding indignant, but Seifer doesn't hear what her reply is; he gets on the elevator and the doors shut, cutting off the rest of their conversation.