Disclaimer: I don't own FFX-2 or its respective characters.

A/N: This is my meager offering after I've been gone so long. Don't hate. XD This chapter is dedicated to anyone who makes the same error Baralai does in this. Okay, I admit it. I've done it, too, when thinking about Gippal. Oh, and there will be another chapter to this. It'll probably be longer, and it'll probably be rated higher. "Probably" because it's all up in my brain right now. :D Warning: Baralai as seen by infatuated!Gippal.

Thanks to: The RyRy, Karyta, fightingcomet, Samurai Bishie Queen, Yonaka Niji, marla22, Renn, Corrupt Innocence, and TheDonutMistress.

Eyes

Green.

As Gippal came closer, trudging through the sand that he was already quite familiar with, he realized that it was a coat. There was only one person here, as far as he could tell, but this was the place he had been assigned to meet his other squad members. Then they were to immediately launch into a drill.

Steps away from the figure seated on ruins, Gippal stopped. He was apparently unnoticed by this person, whose head was tilted back as he or she (Gippal was going to go with a he, though) observed the sky. The white hair led him to believe that he was going to be teamed up with someone old. Maybe he was senile and that was why he hadn't noticed him yet.

Gippal opened his mouth, about to utter some kind of greeting – a "hey" seemed appropriate here – when the person, probably sensing being watched, turned around.

The words never made it past Gippal's lips.

He was met with deep brown eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes. Far from being old, this was someone who appeared to be around his own age. The color of his hair was apparently just an unusual feature that made his smooth, tan skin stand out all the more. Gippal was so busy studying the elegant curves of his face and that full mouth with its slightly parted lips that he forgot he was outright staring.

And he forgot to be self-conscious. People would sooner shoot an Al Bhed than tell them their name – Hadn't that always been what he'd said?

Then there was the small matter of his eye. When people first met him, their attentions would linger on that portion of his face. The more polite ones would look away, trying to their best to avoid any eye contact. The ruder ones asked how he got it, to which he would shrug and casually brush it off as an "accident."

Secretly, he had always been bothered by this but had never told.

But this… He was so caught off guard that he had no time to apply his veneer of confidence.

It was one moment in which all was still and perfect, and then they averted their gazes at the same time. Gippal found his feet in the same second he found his breath, and he quickly discovered that it took some effort to walk as casually as he could toward this person. A person whose name he didn't even know yet.

The silence that ensued after Gippal sat beside him was unbearable. After all, people would sooner shoot an Al Bhed than tell them their –

"My name's Baralai."

Gippal was struck by his voice and even his name but managed to reply, "I'm Gippal," without sounding like too much of an idiot. He didn't know where his usual suaveness had gone, but he wanted it back.

Partly as an excuse to look him over again, partly because he felt he should keep talking, Gippal asked, "Where're you from?"

"Bevelle."

Gippal was sure if he listened hard enough, he could hear the warm, fuzzy feeling inside of him sputtering and choking as it fought for its last breath of air. As Gippal comprehended this fatal, condemning answer – of all the places, Bevelle? – Baralai cast inquisitive glances in every direction.

"Weren't there supposed to be two others with us?"

Gippal shrugged. "That's what I heard."

"Maybe we're early," Baralai suggested.

"Maybe they're late. I'm never early for anything. Trust me on this."

The corner of Baralai's mouth twitched – just slightly, but Gippal caught it. Though it was a brief reaction, Gippal found himself wanting to elicit it again.

Another moment of silence. Seconds into observing the clear desert sky, Gippal decided to succumb to the burning urge to sneak a glimpse of Baralai from the corner of his eye.

Only to find that Baralai had beat him to it.

Gippal looked away so fast that he almost jerked his head, too, which would have been a very unsubtle thing to do. And he was trying to be subtle. Thankfully, he didn't appear to be the only flustered one. When Gippal allowed his gaze to drift back, he noticed a faint redness (he had never thought it would've shown up on such dark skin) creeping up into Baralai's face. Baralai slipped a hand up over his skin, a palm over his mouth and fingers splaying across flushed cheeks, in what Gippal guessed was an attempt to disguise his embarrassment. To cover it up further, Baralai let out a small cough.

Letting some relieved laughter crawl into his voice, Gippal couldn't help but ask, "What is it?" even though he already knew the answer.

He expected some lie about having a cough or being sick. Not the truth.

"I've…never seen eyes like yours."

Gippal couldn't bring himself to correct him.

- - -

Green.

Gippal clutched a fistful of cool grass, eye fluttering open, taking in where he was. He was sprawled out on his back, midsection underneath a machine he had been working on. The sun beat down on his face, arms, and calves, which were mercifully tan enough to be mostly unaffected. At the arrival of balmy spring weather, Gippal had found it difficult to resist shucking off his boots and rolling up his pant legs.

Thoughts drifting pleasantly back to the dreamed memory, Gippal focused on the sky, different from the desert one he had grown to know as a child. This sky was cloudier. As always, he was hoping for rain.

Gippal was about to push away the remaining residue of his sleepiness and get back to work when he heard someone approaching, footsteps brushing against the grass. Just because he wanted to, Gippal decided to feign sleep, no matter how unfavorable sleeping on the job looked. His eyelid slid open only the slightest bit so that it wouldn't be obvious.

Baralai's boots came into view. And here Gippal had been so frequently reminded of his terrible poker face.

The crunch of grass was loud in his ears as Baralai knelt beside him. Warm breath beat against his face, quickening his pulse, as Baralai pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Softer still, those lips brushed against his ear, close enough that he would be sure to hear a whispered request.

"Open your eyes."