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Zell's face is flushed; his fists clenching spasmodically. Seifer remembers what it felt like: a hot, jittery feeling across his skin and a flurry of thoughts so jumbled he could barely get more than one or two words out together. Normally he'd make a crack about how Zell rarely has a coherent thought anyway, but—though he'd never admit it—it's not as much fun when Zell can't respond to him.
Berserk won't do any long-term damage, he knows; but apart from the fact that he has to keep Zell from hurting himself while the redhot energy runs its course, watching Zell pace and twitch restlessly feels unpleasant in some way he doesn't want to think about too deeply. It just figures; he used his last Esuna spell three battles ago. So instead he does what he can and says, "Come on, then," fists raised.
He knows Zell doesn't want to hit him, but his relief is obvious as he takes a swing at Seifer, and they fall into an easy rhythm of strikes and blocks. Seifer doesn't kid himself that he'd really stand a chance in unarmed combat against Zell, but Zell's accuracy is lowered by the spell, and Seifer evades most of his punches without too much difficulty. It hurts, though, when Zell does land one, fireworks exploding out from the spot on his jaw that he's certain will never look the same again, and goddammit, if Zell's disfigured him he's going to have his hide. He tastes blood; what he gets for trying to do the damn kid a favor.
They end up on the ground, grappling for a few minutes until Zell starts to tire, head drooping until eventually his forehead is touching Seifer's shoulder. Zell's heartbeat slowly starts to return to something less than machine-gun rapid. His hands are brushing up and down Seifer's sides, randomly fisting in his coat. Seifer holds himself still and reminds himself not to respond. It isn't sexual, he knows, it's just the urge to touch, the last of the enhanced energy skittering out through the fingertips. His jaw throbs. It's almost not worth a Cure spell, he thinks, but then decides, fuck it, Dincht owes him one, as soon as he's walking and talking again—which, knowing Zell, will be all too soon.
Seifer's just about to warn Zell that he better not start snoring on him, when Zell shifts and mumbles a sleepy, "Thanks," into the lapel of his coat—and Seifer looks down at Dincht's mussed head where it rests against his coat and feels his fingers start to itch like he's the one with the status effect.
He stands up abruptly and enjoys Zell's indignant shout when his head meets the ground. Zell complains that he's a total jerk, and he shouldn't even waste a Cure on him, serves him right, and Seifer calls him Sleeping Beauty just to watch him sputter, and by the time they're back on the main road, things are back to normal.
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