Title: Inferior.
Author: tsumi_amethyst, lagunaz-moombaz.
Pairing/Fandom: Tidus x Firion, Dissidia: Final Fantasy.
Summary: As each of the ten warriors tells the group the story of how they became heroes, Tidus begins to feel inadequate compared to the grandeur of his companion's accomplishments. Concerned, Firion invites the teen to confide in him... Yaoi, shounen-ai.
Author's Notes: This fic contains yaoi. I will not apologise for this, and will not tolerate the immaturity of people who flame me for this. I have warned you. So stay away if this is not your cup of tea. Now, this pairing is easily my favourite Dissidia pairing – They're just so cute! And Tidus does call Firion 'Rosebud.' Gay, or what? Enjoy this light sap. I may write a sequel if there is an interest in this pairing. Reviews are very welcome.

"And that's... Pretty much the end of that." Cloud finished, his eyes lowered. Satisfied that no one would ask him anything more, he stood and moved to sit between Firion and Terra, thankful to be out of the proverbial spotlight of his fellow friends. It had been his turn to tell his tale to the other warriors, and had taken the longest out of everyone so far – three nights – given that his story spanned several years. He exhaled slowly, ridding himself of the realisation that he had been through that much, and turned to initiate a conversation with Firion.

The Warrior of Light poked at the fire Terra had lit earlier, though his heart wasn't really in it – His eyes were focused on everything but the group, looking to the distance, checking for any approaching manikins. Absent-mindedly, he suggested, "How about someone else speaks for a bit... To take our mind off everything?" His eyes left their surroundings for a moment, landing on Squall. "How about you?"

The SeeD didn't respond, choosing simply to stare icily back at the Light Warrior, reluctant to say much in front of the group who had responded with such surprise to Cloud's story. The Lion didn't think that telling a group of strangers that he was a trained mercenary was the best way to have the already nervous group warm to him. He was about to shrug, when Zidane interrupted.

"Well, if he won't say anything, then I'll tell you my story," said the thief, capitalising on Squall's silence. He cleared his throat, standing and holding a hand above his heart, pacing before the group, "It's an epic tale about friendship, love, women, princesses, love, Kuja, women, finding out where you come from, love-"

"I think I was next." Squall interjected abruptly, wanting to spare himself the boredom of listening to the thieving dramatist. He stood and took his seat before everyone, the prospect of being before the group not a problem – He was used to speaking in front of a large number of people. Slightly perturbed, Zidane took his seat next to a smirking Tidus, settling in to listen to the brunet, muttering, "This had better be good!"

Squall paused momentarily – a habit he had developed during his time as Headmaster of Balamb Garden – to ensure that everyone was listening. He cast his mind back, memories somewhat hazy thanks to the Guardian Forces he had once used, and took a deep breath.

"I was trained as a mercenary in a place called Balamb Garden," Squall began, sensing immediately that the atmosphere had gone tense. He allowed himself a small smirk. "What initially seemed to be a regular hire turned into something much more..."

As the group settled to listen to Squall's tale, there was only one person who was not completely thrilled by the story. Tidus shifted uncomfortably, listening to Squall recollecting his experiences, a familiar feeling settling in his stomach - that of inferiority.

When the Warrior of Light told his story, Tidus hadn't felt anything too out of the ordinary, except for the newfound respect and awe he had for the fighter. Yet as each member of the group began to divulge the details of their personal triumphs and heroic deeds, Tidus gradually began to feel uneasy. His accomplishments seemed rather insignificant and weak in comparison to rewriting history to spare the future of an evil force, saving the world from one man's deluded wish for destruction... Surely, in all, Tidus had accomplished more harm than good? Not only had he exiled Yuna and the group during his time with them, succeeding in slowing down their progress considerably, but his presence attracted Sin – Causing the destruction of many peoples' lives. Though he had permanently eradicated the world of this evil, the trouble he had inadvertently caused made his victory seem like a fluke. The blond shook his head, Squall's story only worsening his mood.

'Time compression? I don't even get how that would work.' He thought to himself moodily, hugging his knees to his chest, starting a little when the SeeD revealed that he too disliked his father at the best of times. Glancing across at the Blitzball player, Squall gave him a wry smile. "He meant well. He was just a gullible, happy-go-lucky idiot." Tidus blinked in response, feeling everybody's eyes on him, and he laughed a little, shaking off the awkwardness. It wasn't exactly one of the greatest things one could have in common with the mercenary, but it was a likeness nonetheless which he would be sure to question him about later.

"My old man's just an idiot," He said in response. Squall gave him a brief nod and continued on with his story, leaving Tidus to his brooding. At one point he seriously considered getting up and leaving as Squall explained his final battle against Ultimecia, his feelings of inadequacy rising by the second, but considering how tightly he was jammed between Zidane and Firion, and how that would definitely not go unnoticed, he knew it wasn't worth it. So he sat and continued to listen, trying to close his eyes and nod off to sleep even in his uncomfortable position.

"... And that's pretty much everything," Squall concluded, returning to his seat before he could be pestered. He fingered the scar on his face, a visual warning that told everyone he did not want to be disturbed, though most of the group appeared to be considering going to sleep for the night, given how everyone was yawning and rubbing their eyes. One by one, the members of the group disappeared into their tents, exchanging a few polite words with one another before burying themselves inside their sleeping bags and settling down for the night. Squall sat and stared at the fire for a few minutes longer, enjoying the silence, and perhaps thinking wistfully about his past, before nodding at Tidus as a way of saying 'Goodnight,' and ducking inside the tent he shared with Cloud.

Satisfied that he could sneak away to think without arousing much suspicion, Tidus was nearly free of the camp when the Warrior of Light approached him, clasping a hand to his shoulder, effectively halting the teen's steps. The touch was firm, and steered Tidus to face the Light Warrior.

"Do not forget, you are on watch tonight," The Warrior reminded him abruptly. Tidus shook his head, though in fact he had forgotten. "Good. See you in the morning. Cecil will relieve you in a few hours." With that, Tidus was left alone, the fighter leaving as soon as he had come. The Blitzball star sighed, wandering to the outskirts of the makeshift camp and taking a seat on a log, eyes gazing into the distance. He shivered slightly against the cold, pulling his knees up to his chest once more as he murmured a fire spell, creating another small fire just before him.

Like Squall had moments earlier, Tidus stared into the flames, watching how they licked up the length of the sticks in pretty swirls. He made sure not to make the fire too big, so not to attract any unwanted attention to their area, and sighed heavily.

He really wasn't going to feel comfortable when telling his story to the others. Though he had saved Spira from what was ultimately a cycle of infinite destruction and death, he had been the cause of so much bad that the teen felt as though his successes had not outweighed the sadness he had inadvertently brought. The sound of his father's voice scorning him burnt into his memory, and suddenly Tidus felt his blood beginning to boil, though his skin was chilly. He resisted the urge to yell, knowing that having to explain to nine very sleepy people that they were not under attack would not bode well for him. Instead he sighed heavily, pounding his fist into the ground beside him.

"Fuck!" The teen cursed, nursing his hand, inspecting it for broken bones. He shook it tenderly, trying to rid himself of the pain, hissing when it only hurt more. "Ow..." He groaned, pressing the injured hand to his stomach, trying to suppress the pain through gritted teeth. He growled to himself, feeling rather stupid.

"Are you alright?" The voice behind him made Tidus jump, though he recognised it to be Firion's. He turned, trying to hide his aching hand, hitching a grin onto his face. The warrior raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the teen's hand. "Are you alright?" He repeated, stressing the words as he stared at the limp hand.

It was then that Tidus was incredibly thankful for his ability to think on his feet. He nodded, settling back down to watch, explaining, "Yeah, sure. I'm fine. Just, erm, hurt myself. Yeah, I was doing some push-ups and my hand kinda gave out. Crushed it. Oops." He grinned at the weapon specialist as he took a seat beside the blond. "Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

Firion gave him a slight smile. "Didn't realise punching the ground is the new push-ups. Kids these days, huh?"

Tidus' grin faded into a frown. "If you already knew how I'd done it, why did you ask?" He inquired moodily, pride damaged. He would have resented Firion for asking, but he needed company when in the state of mind he was currently in; being around people tended to lift his spirits.

Firion's smile grew, stretching, gazing up at the moon. "Don't know. I was hoping I could startle you into telling me the truth."

Tidus snorted. "And you expected that old trick to work on me? Pfft. What do you take me for?" Before Firion could answer, Tidus continued. "It was nothin'. I just got a little wound up and decided it was better to do that instead of just sitting here, getting more and more pissed off at myself." He cleared his throat, and continued before Firion could interject, "Anyway, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting some rest? It's your turn tomorrow night, you know."

"I couldn't sleep," Firion replied, pausing. "And I was worried about you," He added, concern evident in his tone. "I noticed you seemed uncomfortable earlier. Was something wrong?"

Tidus started, having not expected the weapon specialist to have been so observant, while cursing himself for being so transparent. He toyed with the idea of conjuring another lie to tell the silver-haired warrior, but thought against it, given how easily Firion could see through him. 'Besides,' the teen thought to himself, regarding the patiently waiting man with a decidedly friendly gaze, 'he's easy enough to talk to. Not too pushy, good listener, that sort of thing. Maybe he can take my mind off things.'

Firion sat, staring back at the blond, and wondering whether pushing the teen to talk was such a good idea. He had not intended to make the boy feel uncomfortable, though judging from the presiding silence, he had. But recently the warrior had noticed that Tidus had been more subdued and reflective, and it was clear that something was wrong. Not wanting this to become an issue for the Blitzball star, Firion had decided to ask Tidus what was wrong, given their closeness on recent missions. About to apologise for his bluntness, Firion was surprised when Tidus began to form a response, though he seemed embarrassed about it.

"Everybody else has this great story," He began slowly, not quite sure how to articulate how he was feeling into words, "And they're all great heroes who've done so much. Cloud has survived so much, and to come out of that the way he is, well... It's amazing. That'd screw me up pretty bad. And everyone else looks the part too, you know? Squall looks like a leader, the Warrior of Light looks like a hero, and you..." Tidus hesitated, knowing just how stupid he was going to sound, "You have a cape."

Even though he knew he shouldn't, Firion started to laugh, clasping a hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't wake the group. Tidus managed to laugh at himself too, though his cheeks burned in shame. 'Nice guy, my ass,' he thought sulkily to himself, feeling thoroughly patronised. The nagging little voice in his head – which sounded painfully like Jecht – told him it was what he deserved, mocking him for expecting any different. Shaking his head at himself, Tidus buried his face between the knees he had brought up to his chest, childishly.

"Tidus," Firion started, suppressing another chuckle as he did, "If it bothers you that much, I would've borrowed you a cape-"

"No, that's not it!" Tidus cut in, slightly irritated. Why could Firion not see what was bothering him? Of course, he wasn't a mind reader, but wasn't it obvious? (Of course, Tidus just wanted the specialist to know so that it would spare him the shame of actually telling him, but his pride would never, ever allow him to admit this.) He rolled his eyes and waited for Firion's laughter to subside, the humiliation reminded him of Jecht again, and he felt his frustration resurface. This time, however, he decided against smashing his fist into the ground.

At Tidus' haughty expression, Firion regained control over himself, a serious look concealing his laughter. Still hurt by Firion's ignorance, Tidus took a deep breath, and carried on, voice somewhat muffled as he kept his face hidden.

"What I mean is... Everyone is this big hero, you know? And I just don't feel as if I am. My story isn't as impressive as yours, or Cloud's, or Squall's. Not anyone's." Tidus rested his head on his knees, avoiding Firion's gaze. "I don't think I belong here. And I'm embarrassed because soon everyone will realise it." 'And they'll lose all respect for me,' he thought to himself.

Immediately, Firion felt guilt spread through his being. He had laughed at the teen for feeling insecure? No wonder Tidus looked so beaten. Not quite sure how he should respond, Firion gently ruffled his hair, the blond spikes surprisingly soft, causing the teen to pull his head from hiding and into the open. He smiled down at Tidus, who looked so childlike in his sadness. About to snap at the warrior for being so patronising, Firion reasoned with him, a slight smile on his face:

"Look, no matter what you say, you are a hero. Cosmos wouldn't have you as one of her warriors if she didn't think you were worthy, would she? Besides, Squall doesn't have a cape, and you still think he's a hero." At this, Tidus laughed, and Firion was relieved at the positive response. He could almost feel the cheeriness returning to the blond as he continued, "So what if you're not a great leader? So what if you made mistakes? So what if you don't look the part? That's the kind of thing that you overcome to become a hero. Look. I want to hear your story. Whatever it was that you did must have been pretty heroic, whether you think so or not, for you to be here with us today. How about it? Give me a sneak preview. I won't tell the others." Firion said with a wink, guilt slowly ebbing away as Tidus' light-heartedness returned. He quickly took his hand from atop Tidus' head, having forgotten that it was there, hoping that it would be enough to convince the teen he wasn't the inferior nobody he saw himself to be. Eventually, the blonds face broke out into a grin, and he nodded.

"Alright then. I'll tell you my story. Just promise not to tell Warrior I've been talking to you instead of watching properly, 'kay?" He added as an afterthought, scanning their surroundings, as if expecting the Light Warrior to be there, watching the pair with a mixture of exasperation and frustration. Firion gave the teen another wink, pulling an imaginary zip across his lips.

With a deep breath, Tidus began his story. He talked on and on into the night, somewhat perturbed by Firion's silence, half-expecting Cecil to come to them at any moment and relieve them as he reached the end of his story. As he recalled his experiences, he realised that he had accomplished more than he had initially realised, and retold his victories with growing confidence, embellishing every detail until he paused, embarrassed that he was exaggerating his successes so much. Firion just gestured for him to continue, the smile ever present as he saw Tidus' confidence near enough radiating from him.

Eventually, Tidus came to the end of his story, throat sore. He laughed nervously, glancing over at the weapon specialist. "... And that's my story." He said, clearing his throat, shrugging off his awkwardness. After speaking for so long, the silence was eerie, and for a moment Tidus was more aware of their surroundings than he had been all night, shifting guiltily as he half-expected a horde of manikins to have surrounded them.

The teen had just enough time to pick up his weapon and dodge to one side as he heard movement behind them, adrenaline sharpening his senses as he prepared to strike the intruder – Only to find that it was Cecil, watching him with a bemused look.

"I'm taking over now. Get some sleep, it looks like you need it," Cecil said with a quiet chuckle at Tidus' surprise. The blond lowered his weapon, glancing in amusement at Firion, who seemed equally shaken as he. Without uttering a word, Tidus did as he suggested and walked towards the tent he and Firion shared, relieved that his lapse in attention had not been the cause of a severe backlash. Keeping watch was a difficult job at the best of times, and he was sure that Cecil wouldn't say a word to the Warrior of Light (though the blond knew that somehow he would find out – he always did) about his momentary lack of awareness. Firion followed the teen, offering an exasperated smile to the grinning Cecil – he'd been keeping watch while Tidus had been telling his story.

Just as they reached their tent, Tidus hesitated, straightening his back and looking to Firion with a smile. "Thanks for listening to me tonight," He began, feigning a yawn to have his comment appear throwaway, insignificant. "Just what the Doctor ordered!"

Firion smiled, eyes involuntarily travelling down the teens' body as he stretched, glimpsing Tidus' toned abdomen before returning his gaze to the blonds face. "No problem. Now let's get to bed. Warrior will want us up and ready in a few hours. We need as much rest as we can get."

Tidus raised a hand to Firion's chest, preventing the expert's passing through the tent flap. A solemn look had captured his features, and the blond suddenly seemed rather close, though he didn't seem to realise it. Firion, however, was aware of their closeness, and felt something stir in his chest, the air growing tense. He felt his cheeks colour slightly, and hoped Tidus wouldn't see it in the dim light.

Whether Tidus was oblivious to this, or he simply chose not to address it, was unknown to Firion. The teen simply carried on, his hand turning into a fist, playfully hitting the older man's armour, the motion distracting him from what he perceived to be embarrassing gratitude. "Thanks. I really mean it." He said softly, in that same solemn way. Being perpetually cheerful gave Tidus the disadvantage of causing uncertainty in his companions, though this was unintentional. Though he knew that Firion realised how serious he was being, he wanted to make doubly sure that the weapon expert knew of his gratitude.

Firion was about to respond, acknowledging the blonds seriousness when bright blue eyes met with his own. At such a short distance, Firion could clearly see the sincerity of his friend, and it moved him. The stirring in his chest grew greater as Tidus realised how close they were, and he took a step back, releasing the breath he had been unknowingly holding. The Blitzball star shuffled his feet, unsure of how he could alleviate the sudden awkwardness accumulating between them, though he was unsure of what was fuelling it now that he had stepped away.

But then his eyes locked again with Firion's, and he felt a surge of – something – in his chest, and whatever it was at that moment, it drove him forward to press a light, chaste kiss to Firion's lips, before pulling back and staring at the fighter, unsure of how he would react. He wanted to rush forward, apologise, and then kiss him again, all in the same moment. But then his courage bolted, and he hurriedly muttered "Goodnight" before ducking inside the tent, burying himself inside his sleeping bag, as if hiding himself would shield him from the consequences of what he had just done. He wrapped the material tightly around him, eyes wide as he contemplated what this would mean for them.

Firion stood outside the tent, fingertips touching his lips, as if trying to recreate the feel of Tidus' lips against his. He gaped at the spot where the blond had been but a moment before, wondering whether he had dreamt it all from what was surely a fleeting infatuation. The ache in his chest slowly ebbed, and Firion ran a hand through his hair, tiredness hitting him as the gravity of the day's events struck him at once. Resolving to settle the matter tomorrow, Firion took a deep breath and ducked inside the tent.