Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lightning. ❯ Chapter, The Twenty-Ninth: In Which Seifer is a Bitch. ( Chapter 29 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Eoko: Hello all! Just me this time. Kitty is, I believe, having a “girly sleep over” which means she is not on AIM and talking to me. This does sadden be greatly, but on the bright side, I worked til 9pm, got gas on the way home, took Dad’s truck for a spin to get used to it, ate dinner, and am now doing this at 11:30pm on Thursday evening. Also amazing it’s being updated on the appointed Thursday. Unfortunately the witty Eoko and Kitty banter must go missed this week. But fear not, we will continue our antics in chapters to come.
Edit: I apologize. FF dot net was being STUPID again on Thursday and wasn’t allowing me to upload the chapter, so unfortunately things must be held off until Friday again. -_-
Chapter, The Twenty-Ninth: In Which Seifer is a Bitch.
“Oh, you cannot go now, Irvine! Party’s just getting warmed up!” Terry cried, words just slightly slurred. But the guy was naturally hyper, so he didn’t need to be really drunk to appear totally hammered.
“Accordin’ to who?” Irvine wondered, knowing Zell was waiting for him at his Ma’s place.
“Um… Um…” Terry looked around, then jabbed with his finger. “Selphie and Anasha!”
Irvine glanced over, following the indication of Terry’s hand to find Anasha straddling Selphie’s lap and the two of them rather busy with one another’s mouths. He arched a brow, then shook his head with a snort.
“Well, I got early class tomorrow,” Irvine lied, tilting his hat forward to a jaunty angle. “So I gotta go.”
“You’re not even smaaashed yet…” Rikan pointed out, looking smashed enough for the both of them.
“Ain’t plannin’ on gettin’ that way, neither. I’m tipsy. ‘S enough. I’m also goin’. Later, guys, congrats!”
Irvine waved and slipped out of SeaDrye before anyone else cold protest his leaving. He only felt marginally bad for walking out on the ‘celebration’ of their passing Zell’s class, when he knew what was waiting for him. He’d promised he’d go out with The Cadets before Zell had suggested a mini-party at his Ma’s place, so they’d decided he’d just leave them early, and go to Ma’s after.
He tugged nervously at the hem of the tight, dark-green shirt that barely kissed the waist-line of his hip-riding faux-velvet pants and hoped Zell would be impressed. The line of dimenties up the sides of the pants had certainly fascinated Rikan, but the man’s attentions only made Irvine chuckle now. He’d dressed knowing he’d be seeing Zell. He’d dressed to impress Zell. He’d dressed to make Zell want him.
The shirt’s sleeveless nature showed off muscles bred to handle Exeter’s powerful kick-back and Lightning’s stubborn head, but it hugged his form, also displaying the gentle curve of his waist into his hips. It left no doubt that he was indeed a man, but softened some of the hard lines in a way he was fairly certain would set Zell panting. He’d gotten pretty good at judging the best ways to set Zell panting. And he liked it. He liked that someone wanted him that much, and that he, in turn, wanted that someone right back.
The hat, of course, was an accessory he simply couldn’t go without. And besides, Zell really liked it.
Irvine grinned to himself and almost fell down the stairs to Ma’s door. Maybe he’d had just a little more to drink than he thought… Oh well. He lifted a hand and rapped on the door.
There was a scuffle inside, a race for the door.
“Ow! Fuck, Ma!”
“Zell! That language is filthy!”
“You tripped me over!”
Ma didn’t answer that, only flung open the door and engulfed Irvine in a huge, soft, warm hug. Irvine grinned and hugged her back, glancing over her head – not so hard when he was so much taller than she – to see Zell just getting up from the floor and glaring at the back of his Ma’s head. The fighter wore a button-up shirt with short sleeves that clung to his biceps. The buttons must have been an optional extra, because the shirt hung open. He wore leather pants Irvine thought he might have seen on ‘Rubedo’, and those damn red sneakers stood neatly by the door, so that Zell was in sock-feet. Hotdog-print sock-feet. That kind of ruined the sexy picture the fighter presented, but Irvine could ignore it, especially since, as Ma waved him in, sapphire eyes devoured him and seemed to strip him naked without needing to remove his clothing.
“I had to greet him, because I knew the moment you two set eyes on each other, you’d forget I’m even here!”
“Oh, as if we could ever forget you, Ma, you delightful woman,” Irvine said gallantly, sweeping his hat off to her.
“Pish!” she retorted, but she blushed faintly and smiled at him. “Go cuddle on the couch while I get supper ready.”
“You heard the woman,” Zell said lowly, snagging Irvine’s hand and dragging him off to the next room.
Irvine’s stomach fluttered at the sound of the fighter’s voice. They’d fooled around a bit, of course, but nothing much more than a bit of touching, and a lot of kissing. The sharpshooter had quickly found kissing Zell deserved a place at the top of his list of favourite things to do.
“Are you nervous about the Field Exam?” Zell wondered as he sat and pulled Irvine down with him, so that the sharpshooter ended up half beside him, half over him. He ran a hand along a velvet-wrapped thigh, positioning Irvine’s leg just so across his lap. Irvine let him do it. He wanted to please the fighter. “These pants are hot…”
The sharpshooter grinned.
“Thought you’d like them. And… a little.”
“A little what?” Zell had completely forgotten his own question as his eyes ran over Irvine’s form.
“A little nervous. About the Field Exam,” Irvine reminded him, then accused with great amusement; “Horndog…”
“Well, look at you…” Zell purred, hand stroking up the underside of Irvine’s thigh and over the curve of his arse. “So damn sexy…”
The blush wasn’t yet entirely under Irvine’s control and it washed faintly up his neck and over his cheeks.
“I hoped you’d, like, think so.”
“Baby, I always think so.”
Irvine smiled at that, pressing against Zell’s side. He wanted more. More than fooling around, more than kissing. He knew Zell loved him – the man had proved it over and again – and he knew he wanted his first male lover to be this gorgeous person. But he also knew Zell was taking it slow, was afraid of frightening him, or hurting him again, and he did like the lazy pace they were taking with their relationship. He liked to just cuddle and be close to the fighter, smell his scent and feel his warmth.
But, Hyne, he found his thoughts plagued with fantasies of going further.
Zell curled a hand over Irvine’s thigh, drawing his attention back to the fighter, and captured his mouth for a kiss the sharpshooter was well used to, but always craving. Irvine surrendered his mouth to Zell, parting lips and teeth and welcoming the exploratory tongue within. His hands slipped under the open flaps of Zell’s shirt and the fighter hissed appreciatively as they stroked across his back. When Irvine’s fingertips dipped in the back of his waistband, he broke from the kiss, eyeing the auburn-haired cowboy.
“Are you drunk…?” the fighter wondered, stroking the inside of Irvine’s thigh.
“No,” Irvine said, then when Zell arched a brow at him; “Tipsy.” And he grinned, wriggling his butt in Zell’s lap and watching delightedly as the fighter’s lips peeled back slightly from his teeth in a faint groan.
“Naughty. What happened to the Irvine Kinneas who isn’t gay?”
“He were taught a new lesson,” Irvine replied, shifting to straddle Zell’s lap. “I wish your Ma weren’t in the next room…” he whispered, perching on the fighter’s knees to look down at him.
“I thought you liked my Ma.” Zell rested his hands lightly at Irvine’s hips.
“I love your Ma,” Irvine agreed, then leaned sideways to grab a brush from a low table. He began to brush the gel out of Zell’s bangs.
“Irvine! What-ow!”
“Sorry.” But he didn’t sound it.
“What the hell’re you doing?!”
“I like how you look with your hair down.”
“So now you’ve decided to start taking it down, even if I’ve put it up?”
“Yup.”
“You are drunk.”
“I ain’t drunk! Hyne, what is this stuff…?”
Zell rolled his eyes, but stopped fighting. It was damn adorable anyway, and he was loathe to deny Irvine anything. Instead, he went back to the previous topic.
“If you love my Ma, then why do you wish she wasn’t in the next room?”
Irvine concentrated on finishing his task, putting the brush aside when he was done. He ran his fingers through the fall of Zell’s hair across his eyes. The fighter let him take his time, knowing whatever it was, the sharpshooter would say it eventually.
“Because I… I were thinkin’… I been thinkin’… what it’ll be like to… when we… you know…”
Zell smiled gently, drawing Irvine’s eyes back to his with a touch of his fingertips.
“You telling me you want to sleep with me, Cowboy?” the fighter murmured in an almost-drawl.
“Yes. I want that.”
“Not tonight,” Zell said, brushing auburn hair back from sky-blue eyes. When Irvine looked confused, he elaborated. “I don’t want your first time to be at my Ma’s place. She’s a frickin’ mental case. Seriously, she’ll stand at the door and listen. Or, even if she didn’t, you’d be worried she might come in, or anything. Besides that, you’re not sober.”
“I ain’t drunk!” Irvine protested.
“I didn’t say you were, but you’re not sober either. Irvine…” Zell cupped his cheek, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. “Irvine, baby, when I make love with you, I want it to be perfect.”
Irvine smiled hesitantly, warmth suffusing his body at the very term ‘make love’. He knew Zell was in love with him, but hearing it still made his breath catch.
“But… Zell… I-”
“Shush,” Zell said, touching Irvine’s lips with two fingers. “It wouldn’t be perfect here, with my Ma downstairs and both of us trying to be quiet. Or… well… you trying to be quiet. I could care less what my Ma hears or doesn’t hear, but I know it makes other men nervous. You’re gonna be nervous enough. No matter how much you want to be with me, it’s still going to scare you. And I’m not saying you’re not brave, either, so don’t get all offended on me. You’ve already told me Selphie’s the only person you’ve ever been with, and I’m certainly the first man you’ve ever been with… which is such a turn-on, by the way.” That devilish smirk flicked across his features and Irvine gave a small chuckle. “It’s going to be beautiful. It’s going to be amazing, I swear it. But it can’t really be any of that here. And, baby, waiting will only make it the sweeter.”
Irvine hugged Zell tight, nuzzling his neck.
“You’re so good to me…” he whispered.
“I love you,” Zell replied softly.
The sharpshooter leant back and opened his mouth. Zell’s stomach flipped over and his skin tingled with the knowledge of what this stunning man was about to say to him.
“Alright, boys! Clothes back on, I’m coming in!”
For the first time in his life, Zell could have strangled his mother. Irvine blushed and buried his face in the fighter’s neck again, losing whatever nerve had urged him to return the sentiment.
His mother breezed in with their supper and beamed at them, and Zell just couldn’t find it in him to stay pissed off at her. The feelings were there, even if Irvine wouldn’t say it yet, and that was enough for him.
- - -
The morning of the Field Exam dawned clear and bright and Seifer cursed it for being so cheerful when he was so damn pissed off with the world in general. He rolled out of bed with a muttered curse and dressed in his trademark outfit, but with the burgundy jacket instead of the grey-white. Shouldering Hyperion, he headed out, plotting the best way to make Irvine’s Field Exam hell without failing either of them.
Zell would kill him if Irvine failed because of him.
As it was, Seifer thought he would probably get a fairly massive argument from the feisty little blonde once this day was done, but he was pissed off enough to just not care. He hadn’t even told the fighter he knew Irvine was going to be his Squad Leader, because then Zell would have told him to ‘be nice’, and he would have been obligated to obey.
Crap! Since when did he, Seifer The-Great-and-Terrible Almasy obey anyone?!
Since you fell in love, his mind supplied before he could tell it to shut up. He hadn’t let himself think that word, but it had been popping into his head more and more often. Dammit. Damn Irvine Kinneas.
On his way to the classroom they’d been called to meet in, he caught sight of the objects of both his affections and his animosity secreted behind a screen of potted plants. Zell had Irvine against the wall, a hand to either side of him, and he whispered something in the damn cowboy’s ear that made him laugh. Said cowboy saw him first, and offered him a hesitant smile which he felt obligated to return when Zell turned to look at him. Not that his smile was much more than a twitch of his lips, but it was something.
“Hey, Seif!” Zell greeted, stepping out of the plants. Irvine followed him and, aside from the occasional brush of their hands, there was nothing to mark them as anything more than friends. Of course, Seifer knew better.
Have they fucked yet? he wondered, then winced when Irvine looked away and Zell’s brows shot into his hairline. He’d said that out loud. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that, ‘kay?” Zell muttered.
“Er… yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Seifer trailed off. Since when did he apologise?!
“Nevermind,” Zell said, grin flashing across his face. “Good luck today, Seif. You better pass, or I swear I’m gonna beat you up so bad you won’t be able to move.”
Seifer smirked his trademark smirk, eyes sliding to Irvine, then back to Zell with malicious glee.
“Oh yeah, baby, you know I like it rough,” he purred.
Ha. Irvine blushed like a prude. Zell just rolled his eyes and gave Seifer a shove, but his eyes sparkled amusedly. It wasn’t like half their banter didn’t revolve around sexual connotations anyway.
“Perv. Irvine. Irvine!”
The sharpshooter snapped out of whatever reverie he’d been in and blushed again. Fuck. What a pansy. But Zell smiled at him and glanced quickly around before pulling him in for a deep kiss that made Seifer hot just thinking about what it would be like if Zell kissed him. Stop it. Give it up, for Hyne’s sake. It’s pathetic, Almasy. Pa-the-tic!
They broke apart as The Cadets-plus-Selphie came around a corner, all converging on Irvine and showering good wishes and luck upon him. He smiled and managed to hug each and every one of them, thanking them wholeheartedly. No one wished Seifer luck. Except Zell. Oh, Zell…
The fighter patted his arm and winked up at him.
“You’ll do fine. Just behave yourself, okay? Is it really that hard? They want to pass you, but you don’t give them the chance. You’ll be an awesome SeeD…” Zell trailed off suddenly, blinking at Seifer. “Shouldn’t you be in your Cadet uniform…?”
“Quick, Chickie, real quick,” Seifer muttered wryly and Zell batted at him.
“C’mon, they’re sexy!” he cried, then lowered his voice. “Irvine looks fucking hot in his.”
“Whatever,” Seifer muttered, wincing at how Squall-like he sounded. “Got sick of wearing the thing. Makes me look like a fruit.”
“You are a fruit,” Zell pointed out.
“But I don’t have to advertise the fact. Everyone knows Irvine’s a fruit anyway. He’s too damn pretty and girly-looking to not be.”
Zell grew serious.
“Seifer… you’re gonna have to get along with him, you know. I love both of you too much to give up either.”
Love. Love, love, love. But you don’t love me like you love him…
“Yeah, I know,” was all Seifer would say, and he was saved from having to say anything else by the arrival of Quistis.
Zell patted Seifer’s arm, repeated the gesture with Irvine, then zipped off. The Cadets, minus Anasha and Illo who were also taking the exam, weren’t far behind him.
When Quistis read out their names and Irvine learned who was to be on his team, the scared-bunny look he cast in Seifer’s direction was a classic. The gunbladist smirked viciously at the sharpshooter and Irvine looked away again, swallowing and nervously adjusting that damned hat.
Maybe this Field Exam wouldn’t be so boring…
- - -
Seifer flicked some random monster’s blood off the end of his gunblade and glanced around at the carnage his Squad had caused. There really couldn’t be a simpler Field Exam, for he and Irvine. It was easy. Cull the monsters, find and kill the Queen. And it really couldn’t be simpler to shake Irvine’s control.
They were about an hour into the trees, their Squad one of three working its way through the monsters. The basic idea was divide-and-conquer, and it was working. It was also carefully timed, and Seifer was switching between moving almost too fast and almost too slow, so that Irvine was generally in a state of almost-panic.
Now, he was taking his time.
Irvine and the rest of the Squad were almost out of sight, but Seifer knew the sharpshooter wouldn’t leave him behind, largely, he was sure, because of his allegiance to Zell. He wanted Seifer to pass, to make the fighter happy. It was sickening. But he wished it was him.
Sure enough, Irvine eventually came waltzing back, Exeter propped over his shoulder, and he looked about ready to use the thing on the gunbladist.
“What the fuck are you doin’, Seifer?!” Irvine cried, voice on the edge of hysteria.
It was funny. Seifer smirked.
“Cleaning my gunblade,” he replied smoothly, indicating the shining, already blood-free blade. “Miss me?”
“No! In fact, a dart from one of those spider-things in your stupid head wouldn’t, like, upset me at all. You’re either draggin’ your arse or runnin’ off ahead. Are you tryin’ to, like, fuck this up?!”
“Not really,” Seifer drawled in an eerily good imitation of the sharpshooter. “But you’re, like, pretty fuckin’ hilarious all riled up.” He paused, casting his eye over Irvine. Zell was right, the uniform did him wonders. “And, like, you’re purdy easy on the eyes, too, darlin’…”
Irvine glared at him, not blushing the way Seifer had thought he would. He had to commend the sharpshooter for that.
“Listen, will you just get movin’?”
“Whatever you say, Priscilla,” Seifer said with a false smile, and headed off to the next checkpoint.
“Fuck you, Seifer,” Irvine hissed, mortified when he heard the tremor in his own voice. The gunbladist was getting to him.
The rest of the Squad was starting to see it too, seeing his flinch every time Seifer called him a name, and how his hands shook when he checked the map. Thankfully, he could shut it off enough to kill the monsters with his usual pin-point accuracy, despite how many times the stupid gunbladist had thrown himself in Exeter’s sight. He was sure Seifer was trying to get shot, just to shake his control that little bit more. But he was too good, and the blond had finally stopped doing that.
They caught up with the Squad and cadets glanced warily between the two of them, knowing there was a lot of tension there. Irvine pulled out the map and spread it out on the ground so his Squad could gather around it – well, all except Seifer who leant against a tree and just expected someone else to tell him where he was supposed to go.
“Let’s go,” Irvine said, standing and dusting himself off, then righting his hat as the rest of his people headed off in formation. “Come on, Seifer!”
“Or you’ll what…?” Seifer wondered airily, sauntering off after the group.
Irvine snarled and stalked past him hands fisted at his sides.
“Shake that arse, baby…”
The sharpshooter ignored him, or pretended to, but the use of Zell’s favourite name for him really did affect him. He glanced at his hands and they were shaking. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand up to Seifer. Oh, he wished Zell were there.
When they came upon the Queen’s nest some two hours later and took up hidden positions to wait for the other two Squads, Irvine was inches from falling apart. All that was keeping him from it was willpower. He would not let Seifer force him to fail. Nor would he let Seifer fail. He had ended up with the gunbladist in his team, and he owed it to Zell to do his damndest to help him pass.
He was crouching in the bushes, trying to gauge the ugly bitch’s weak spots when there was a rustling behind him, and suddenly, warmth against his back, crouching over him. He’s breath caught in his throat and lips closed briefly against the edge of his ear.
“Howdy, Cowboy.”
Seifer. He swallowed, tensing, and his eyes fell shut.
“Seifer, rack off,” Irvine muttered through his teeth.
“But you’re so warm,” Seifer purred in his ear. “I’m comfy.”
“You’re givin’ me the shits.” Irvine’s voice trembled and Seifer smirked devilishly, nipping at his ear.
“I might be giving you something…” Seifer murmured, hand sliding slowly over Irvine’s hip and down between his legs.
“Seifer!” Irvine hissed, breath hitching.
Seifer chuckled, pressing closer.
“Do you moan for Zell…? Or are you a screamer…? Hmm…? Maybe both…?”
But Irvine was only half-listening and he suddenly broke free of Seifer’s arms, his Squad on his heels. Seifer swore, and leapt into the fray after them.
- - -
Zell tackled Irvine to the floor, kissing all over his face.
“You passed! You passed, you passed, you passed! I’m so proud’ve you!”
Irvine could only manage a smile, and when Zell lifted his weight a little to look down at the sharpshooter, those sky-blue eyes slipped away from him to linger on some point over the fighter’s shoulder.
“Irvine…?” he murmured, brushing the sharpshooter’s hair back from his face.
Irvine blinked and looked back at Zell, smiling automatically, but rather hollowly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’. It’s nothin’.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s nothin’ you gotta worry about. I handled it.”
“Handled what…?”
Irvine shook his head, but when Zell looked hard at him, he sighed and rolled his eyes slightly, but gave in.
“Seifer. He… He gave me shit the whole Exam. I were his Squad Leader, but… but he did everythin’ he could to disobey me without actually disobeyin’ me. But we both passed… so it don’t matter.”
“Yes it fucking does matter!” Zell growled, rolling to his feet. “He’s gotta stop… He can’t keep treating you badly. He’s gotta get over it, because – hello! You’re my boyfriend!”
“Zell… please… Calm down. We’ve got to go to the SeeD Ball. Don’t get shitty at him there. Let’s just… just enjoy it, okay?” Irvine smiled shyly. “You will go to the ball with me, won’t you?”
Zell grinned and swooped on Irvine again, kissing him for all he was worth.
“Are you sure…?” the fighter whispered against his mouth.
“Yeah. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“Listen here, you. You’re the sub. You’re mine, not the other way around!” But he was teasing, and they both grinned.
Zell would behave with Seifer tonight, but tomorrow, the gunbladist was going to get the serve of his life. He just had to understand that Irvine wasn’t going anywhere, and it was time to lay off. They could get along, if only Seifer would try. If only.
A/N: Hicky: If you aren’t Australian, or maybe British, or haven’t been in a RP with someone from Australia for 2 years, like me, then you might note some of the Australianisms. Examples include ‘rack off’, ‘you’re giving me the shits’, and ‘get the serve of his life’. Thankfully these all make relative sense. Unlike that one about sitting on a log like some really dumb black bird. Okay, so the birds’ not dumb, per se, but it sure sits there just like the saying goes. I saw one. “Sitting like a shag on a rock” or something.
Edit: I apologize. FF dot net was being STUPID again on Thursday and wasn’t allowing me to upload the chapter, so unfortunately things must be held off until Friday again. -_-
Chapter, The Twenty-Ninth: In Which Seifer is a Bitch.
“Oh, you cannot go now, Irvine! Party’s just getting warmed up!” Terry cried, words just slightly slurred. But the guy was naturally hyper, so he didn’t need to be really drunk to appear totally hammered.
“Accordin’ to who?” Irvine wondered, knowing Zell was waiting for him at his Ma’s place.
“Um… Um…” Terry looked around, then jabbed with his finger. “Selphie and Anasha!”
Irvine glanced over, following the indication of Terry’s hand to find Anasha straddling Selphie’s lap and the two of them rather busy with one another’s mouths. He arched a brow, then shook his head with a snort.
“Well, I got early class tomorrow,” Irvine lied, tilting his hat forward to a jaunty angle. “So I gotta go.”
“You’re not even smaaashed yet…” Rikan pointed out, looking smashed enough for the both of them.
“Ain’t plannin’ on gettin’ that way, neither. I’m tipsy. ‘S enough. I’m also goin’. Later, guys, congrats!”
Irvine waved and slipped out of SeaDrye before anyone else cold protest his leaving. He only felt marginally bad for walking out on the ‘celebration’ of their passing Zell’s class, when he knew what was waiting for him. He’d promised he’d go out with The Cadets before Zell had suggested a mini-party at his Ma’s place, so they’d decided he’d just leave them early, and go to Ma’s after.
He tugged nervously at the hem of the tight, dark-green shirt that barely kissed the waist-line of his hip-riding faux-velvet pants and hoped Zell would be impressed. The line of dimenties up the sides of the pants had certainly fascinated Rikan, but the man’s attentions only made Irvine chuckle now. He’d dressed knowing he’d be seeing Zell. He’d dressed to impress Zell. He’d dressed to make Zell want him.
The shirt’s sleeveless nature showed off muscles bred to handle Exeter’s powerful kick-back and Lightning’s stubborn head, but it hugged his form, also displaying the gentle curve of his waist into his hips. It left no doubt that he was indeed a man, but softened some of the hard lines in a way he was fairly certain would set Zell panting. He’d gotten pretty good at judging the best ways to set Zell panting. And he liked it. He liked that someone wanted him that much, and that he, in turn, wanted that someone right back.
The hat, of course, was an accessory he simply couldn’t go without. And besides, Zell really liked it.
Irvine grinned to himself and almost fell down the stairs to Ma’s door. Maybe he’d had just a little more to drink than he thought… Oh well. He lifted a hand and rapped on the door.
There was a scuffle inside, a race for the door.
“Ow! Fuck, Ma!”
“Zell! That language is filthy!”
“You tripped me over!”
Ma didn’t answer that, only flung open the door and engulfed Irvine in a huge, soft, warm hug. Irvine grinned and hugged her back, glancing over her head – not so hard when he was so much taller than she – to see Zell just getting up from the floor and glaring at the back of his Ma’s head. The fighter wore a button-up shirt with short sleeves that clung to his biceps. The buttons must have been an optional extra, because the shirt hung open. He wore leather pants Irvine thought he might have seen on ‘Rubedo’, and those damn red sneakers stood neatly by the door, so that Zell was in sock-feet. Hotdog-print sock-feet. That kind of ruined the sexy picture the fighter presented, but Irvine could ignore it, especially since, as Ma waved him in, sapphire eyes devoured him and seemed to strip him naked without needing to remove his clothing.
“I had to greet him, because I knew the moment you two set eyes on each other, you’d forget I’m even here!”
“Oh, as if we could ever forget you, Ma, you delightful woman,” Irvine said gallantly, sweeping his hat off to her.
“Pish!” she retorted, but she blushed faintly and smiled at him. “Go cuddle on the couch while I get supper ready.”
“You heard the woman,” Zell said lowly, snagging Irvine’s hand and dragging him off to the next room.
Irvine’s stomach fluttered at the sound of the fighter’s voice. They’d fooled around a bit, of course, but nothing much more than a bit of touching, and a lot of kissing. The sharpshooter had quickly found kissing Zell deserved a place at the top of his list of favourite things to do.
“Are you nervous about the Field Exam?” Zell wondered as he sat and pulled Irvine down with him, so that the sharpshooter ended up half beside him, half over him. He ran a hand along a velvet-wrapped thigh, positioning Irvine’s leg just so across his lap. Irvine let him do it. He wanted to please the fighter. “These pants are hot…”
The sharpshooter grinned.
“Thought you’d like them. And… a little.”
“A little what?” Zell had completely forgotten his own question as his eyes ran over Irvine’s form.
“A little nervous. About the Field Exam,” Irvine reminded him, then accused with great amusement; “Horndog…”
“Well, look at you…” Zell purred, hand stroking up the underside of Irvine’s thigh and over the curve of his arse. “So damn sexy…”
The blush wasn’t yet entirely under Irvine’s control and it washed faintly up his neck and over his cheeks.
“I hoped you’d, like, think so.”
“Baby, I always think so.”
Irvine smiled at that, pressing against Zell’s side. He wanted more. More than fooling around, more than kissing. He knew Zell loved him – the man had proved it over and again – and he knew he wanted his first male lover to be this gorgeous person. But he also knew Zell was taking it slow, was afraid of frightening him, or hurting him again, and he did like the lazy pace they were taking with their relationship. He liked to just cuddle and be close to the fighter, smell his scent and feel his warmth.
But, Hyne, he found his thoughts plagued with fantasies of going further.
Zell curled a hand over Irvine’s thigh, drawing his attention back to the fighter, and captured his mouth for a kiss the sharpshooter was well used to, but always craving. Irvine surrendered his mouth to Zell, parting lips and teeth and welcoming the exploratory tongue within. His hands slipped under the open flaps of Zell’s shirt and the fighter hissed appreciatively as they stroked across his back. When Irvine’s fingertips dipped in the back of his waistband, he broke from the kiss, eyeing the auburn-haired cowboy.
“Are you drunk…?” the fighter wondered, stroking the inside of Irvine’s thigh.
“No,” Irvine said, then when Zell arched a brow at him; “Tipsy.” And he grinned, wriggling his butt in Zell’s lap and watching delightedly as the fighter’s lips peeled back slightly from his teeth in a faint groan.
“Naughty. What happened to the Irvine Kinneas who isn’t gay?”
“He were taught a new lesson,” Irvine replied, shifting to straddle Zell’s lap. “I wish your Ma weren’t in the next room…” he whispered, perching on the fighter’s knees to look down at him.
“I thought you liked my Ma.” Zell rested his hands lightly at Irvine’s hips.
“I love your Ma,” Irvine agreed, then leaned sideways to grab a brush from a low table. He began to brush the gel out of Zell’s bangs.
“Irvine! What-ow!”
“Sorry.” But he didn’t sound it.
“What the hell’re you doing?!”
“I like how you look with your hair down.”
“So now you’ve decided to start taking it down, even if I’ve put it up?”
“Yup.”
“You are drunk.”
“I ain’t drunk! Hyne, what is this stuff…?”
Zell rolled his eyes, but stopped fighting. It was damn adorable anyway, and he was loathe to deny Irvine anything. Instead, he went back to the previous topic.
“If you love my Ma, then why do you wish she wasn’t in the next room?”
Irvine concentrated on finishing his task, putting the brush aside when he was done. He ran his fingers through the fall of Zell’s hair across his eyes. The fighter let him take his time, knowing whatever it was, the sharpshooter would say it eventually.
“Because I… I were thinkin’… I been thinkin’… what it’ll be like to… when we… you know…”
Zell smiled gently, drawing Irvine’s eyes back to his with a touch of his fingertips.
“You telling me you want to sleep with me, Cowboy?” the fighter murmured in an almost-drawl.
“Yes. I want that.”
“Not tonight,” Zell said, brushing auburn hair back from sky-blue eyes. When Irvine looked confused, he elaborated. “I don’t want your first time to be at my Ma’s place. She’s a frickin’ mental case. Seriously, she’ll stand at the door and listen. Or, even if she didn’t, you’d be worried she might come in, or anything. Besides that, you’re not sober.”
“I ain’t drunk!” Irvine protested.
“I didn’t say you were, but you’re not sober either. Irvine…” Zell cupped his cheek, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. “Irvine, baby, when I make love with you, I want it to be perfect.”
Irvine smiled hesitantly, warmth suffusing his body at the very term ‘make love’. He knew Zell was in love with him, but hearing it still made his breath catch.
“But… Zell… I-”
“Shush,” Zell said, touching Irvine’s lips with two fingers. “It wouldn’t be perfect here, with my Ma downstairs and both of us trying to be quiet. Or… well… you trying to be quiet. I could care less what my Ma hears or doesn’t hear, but I know it makes other men nervous. You’re gonna be nervous enough. No matter how much you want to be with me, it’s still going to scare you. And I’m not saying you’re not brave, either, so don’t get all offended on me. You’ve already told me Selphie’s the only person you’ve ever been with, and I’m certainly the first man you’ve ever been with… which is such a turn-on, by the way.” That devilish smirk flicked across his features and Irvine gave a small chuckle. “It’s going to be beautiful. It’s going to be amazing, I swear it. But it can’t really be any of that here. And, baby, waiting will only make it the sweeter.”
Irvine hugged Zell tight, nuzzling his neck.
“You’re so good to me…” he whispered.
“I love you,” Zell replied softly.
The sharpshooter leant back and opened his mouth. Zell’s stomach flipped over and his skin tingled with the knowledge of what this stunning man was about to say to him.
“Alright, boys! Clothes back on, I’m coming in!”
For the first time in his life, Zell could have strangled his mother. Irvine blushed and buried his face in the fighter’s neck again, losing whatever nerve had urged him to return the sentiment.
His mother breezed in with their supper and beamed at them, and Zell just couldn’t find it in him to stay pissed off at her. The feelings were there, even if Irvine wouldn’t say it yet, and that was enough for him.
- - -
The morning of the Field Exam dawned clear and bright and Seifer cursed it for being so cheerful when he was so damn pissed off with the world in general. He rolled out of bed with a muttered curse and dressed in his trademark outfit, but with the burgundy jacket instead of the grey-white. Shouldering Hyperion, he headed out, plotting the best way to make Irvine’s Field Exam hell without failing either of them.
Zell would kill him if Irvine failed because of him.
As it was, Seifer thought he would probably get a fairly massive argument from the feisty little blonde once this day was done, but he was pissed off enough to just not care. He hadn’t even told the fighter he knew Irvine was going to be his Squad Leader, because then Zell would have told him to ‘be nice’, and he would have been obligated to obey.
Crap! Since when did he, Seifer The-Great-and-Terrible Almasy obey anyone?!
Since you fell in love, his mind supplied before he could tell it to shut up. He hadn’t let himself think that word, but it had been popping into his head more and more often. Dammit. Damn Irvine Kinneas.
On his way to the classroom they’d been called to meet in, he caught sight of the objects of both his affections and his animosity secreted behind a screen of potted plants. Zell had Irvine against the wall, a hand to either side of him, and he whispered something in the damn cowboy’s ear that made him laugh. Said cowboy saw him first, and offered him a hesitant smile which he felt obligated to return when Zell turned to look at him. Not that his smile was much more than a twitch of his lips, but it was something.
“Hey, Seif!” Zell greeted, stepping out of the plants. Irvine followed him and, aside from the occasional brush of their hands, there was nothing to mark them as anything more than friends. Of course, Seifer knew better.
Have they fucked yet? he wondered, then winced when Irvine looked away and Zell’s brows shot into his hairline. He’d said that out loud. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that, ‘kay?” Zell muttered.
“Er… yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Seifer trailed off. Since when did he apologise?!
“Nevermind,” Zell said, grin flashing across his face. “Good luck today, Seif. You better pass, or I swear I’m gonna beat you up so bad you won’t be able to move.”
Seifer smirked his trademark smirk, eyes sliding to Irvine, then back to Zell with malicious glee.
“Oh yeah, baby, you know I like it rough,” he purred.
Ha. Irvine blushed like a prude. Zell just rolled his eyes and gave Seifer a shove, but his eyes sparkled amusedly. It wasn’t like half their banter didn’t revolve around sexual connotations anyway.
“Perv. Irvine. Irvine!”
The sharpshooter snapped out of whatever reverie he’d been in and blushed again. Fuck. What a pansy. But Zell smiled at him and glanced quickly around before pulling him in for a deep kiss that made Seifer hot just thinking about what it would be like if Zell kissed him. Stop it. Give it up, for Hyne’s sake. It’s pathetic, Almasy. Pa-the-tic!
They broke apart as The Cadets-plus-Selphie came around a corner, all converging on Irvine and showering good wishes and luck upon him. He smiled and managed to hug each and every one of them, thanking them wholeheartedly. No one wished Seifer luck. Except Zell. Oh, Zell…
The fighter patted his arm and winked up at him.
“You’ll do fine. Just behave yourself, okay? Is it really that hard? They want to pass you, but you don’t give them the chance. You’ll be an awesome SeeD…” Zell trailed off suddenly, blinking at Seifer. “Shouldn’t you be in your Cadet uniform…?”
“Quick, Chickie, real quick,” Seifer muttered wryly and Zell batted at him.
“C’mon, they’re sexy!” he cried, then lowered his voice. “Irvine looks fucking hot in his.”
“Whatever,” Seifer muttered, wincing at how Squall-like he sounded. “Got sick of wearing the thing. Makes me look like a fruit.”
“You are a fruit,” Zell pointed out.
“But I don’t have to advertise the fact. Everyone knows Irvine’s a fruit anyway. He’s too damn pretty and girly-looking to not be.”
Zell grew serious.
“Seifer… you’re gonna have to get along with him, you know. I love both of you too much to give up either.”
Love. Love, love, love. But you don’t love me like you love him…
“Yeah, I know,” was all Seifer would say, and he was saved from having to say anything else by the arrival of Quistis.
Zell patted Seifer’s arm, repeated the gesture with Irvine, then zipped off. The Cadets, minus Anasha and Illo who were also taking the exam, weren’t far behind him.
When Quistis read out their names and Irvine learned who was to be on his team, the scared-bunny look he cast in Seifer’s direction was a classic. The gunbladist smirked viciously at the sharpshooter and Irvine looked away again, swallowing and nervously adjusting that damned hat.
Maybe this Field Exam wouldn’t be so boring…
- - -
Seifer flicked some random monster’s blood off the end of his gunblade and glanced around at the carnage his Squad had caused. There really couldn’t be a simpler Field Exam, for he and Irvine. It was easy. Cull the monsters, find and kill the Queen. And it really couldn’t be simpler to shake Irvine’s control.
They were about an hour into the trees, their Squad one of three working its way through the monsters. The basic idea was divide-and-conquer, and it was working. It was also carefully timed, and Seifer was switching between moving almost too fast and almost too slow, so that Irvine was generally in a state of almost-panic.
Now, he was taking his time.
Irvine and the rest of the Squad were almost out of sight, but Seifer knew the sharpshooter wouldn’t leave him behind, largely, he was sure, because of his allegiance to Zell. He wanted Seifer to pass, to make the fighter happy. It was sickening. But he wished it was him.
Sure enough, Irvine eventually came waltzing back, Exeter propped over his shoulder, and he looked about ready to use the thing on the gunbladist.
“What the fuck are you doin’, Seifer?!” Irvine cried, voice on the edge of hysteria.
It was funny. Seifer smirked.
“Cleaning my gunblade,” he replied smoothly, indicating the shining, already blood-free blade. “Miss me?”
“No! In fact, a dart from one of those spider-things in your stupid head wouldn’t, like, upset me at all. You’re either draggin’ your arse or runnin’ off ahead. Are you tryin’ to, like, fuck this up?!”
“Not really,” Seifer drawled in an eerily good imitation of the sharpshooter. “But you’re, like, pretty fuckin’ hilarious all riled up.” He paused, casting his eye over Irvine. Zell was right, the uniform did him wonders. “And, like, you’re purdy easy on the eyes, too, darlin’…”
Irvine glared at him, not blushing the way Seifer had thought he would. He had to commend the sharpshooter for that.
“Listen, will you just get movin’?”
“Whatever you say, Priscilla,” Seifer said with a false smile, and headed off to the next checkpoint.
“Fuck you, Seifer,” Irvine hissed, mortified when he heard the tremor in his own voice. The gunbladist was getting to him.
The rest of the Squad was starting to see it too, seeing his flinch every time Seifer called him a name, and how his hands shook when he checked the map. Thankfully, he could shut it off enough to kill the monsters with his usual pin-point accuracy, despite how many times the stupid gunbladist had thrown himself in Exeter’s sight. He was sure Seifer was trying to get shot, just to shake his control that little bit more. But he was too good, and the blond had finally stopped doing that.
They caught up with the Squad and cadets glanced warily between the two of them, knowing there was a lot of tension there. Irvine pulled out the map and spread it out on the ground so his Squad could gather around it – well, all except Seifer who leant against a tree and just expected someone else to tell him where he was supposed to go.
“Let’s go,” Irvine said, standing and dusting himself off, then righting his hat as the rest of his people headed off in formation. “Come on, Seifer!”
“Or you’ll what…?” Seifer wondered airily, sauntering off after the group.
Irvine snarled and stalked past him hands fisted at his sides.
“Shake that arse, baby…”
The sharpshooter ignored him, or pretended to, but the use of Zell’s favourite name for him really did affect him. He glanced at his hands and they were shaking. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand up to Seifer. Oh, he wished Zell were there.
When they came upon the Queen’s nest some two hours later and took up hidden positions to wait for the other two Squads, Irvine was inches from falling apart. All that was keeping him from it was willpower. He would not let Seifer force him to fail. Nor would he let Seifer fail. He had ended up with the gunbladist in his team, and he owed it to Zell to do his damndest to help him pass.
He was crouching in the bushes, trying to gauge the ugly bitch’s weak spots when there was a rustling behind him, and suddenly, warmth against his back, crouching over him. He’s breath caught in his throat and lips closed briefly against the edge of his ear.
“Howdy, Cowboy.”
Seifer. He swallowed, tensing, and his eyes fell shut.
“Seifer, rack off,” Irvine muttered through his teeth.
“But you’re so warm,” Seifer purred in his ear. “I’m comfy.”
“You’re givin’ me the shits.” Irvine’s voice trembled and Seifer smirked devilishly, nipping at his ear.
“I might be giving you something…” Seifer murmured, hand sliding slowly over Irvine’s hip and down between his legs.
“Seifer!” Irvine hissed, breath hitching.
Seifer chuckled, pressing closer.
“Do you moan for Zell…? Or are you a screamer…? Hmm…? Maybe both…?”
But Irvine was only half-listening and he suddenly broke free of Seifer’s arms, his Squad on his heels. Seifer swore, and leapt into the fray after them.
- - -
Zell tackled Irvine to the floor, kissing all over his face.
“You passed! You passed, you passed, you passed! I’m so proud’ve you!”
Irvine could only manage a smile, and when Zell lifted his weight a little to look down at the sharpshooter, those sky-blue eyes slipped away from him to linger on some point over the fighter’s shoulder.
“Irvine…?” he murmured, brushing the sharpshooter’s hair back from his face.
Irvine blinked and looked back at Zell, smiling automatically, but rather hollowly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’. It’s nothin’.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s nothin’ you gotta worry about. I handled it.”
“Handled what…?”
Irvine shook his head, but when Zell looked hard at him, he sighed and rolled his eyes slightly, but gave in.
“Seifer. He… He gave me shit the whole Exam. I were his Squad Leader, but… but he did everythin’ he could to disobey me without actually disobeyin’ me. But we both passed… so it don’t matter.”
“Yes it fucking does matter!” Zell growled, rolling to his feet. “He’s gotta stop… He can’t keep treating you badly. He’s gotta get over it, because – hello! You’re my boyfriend!”
“Zell… please… Calm down. We’ve got to go to the SeeD Ball. Don’t get shitty at him there. Let’s just… just enjoy it, okay?” Irvine smiled shyly. “You will go to the ball with me, won’t you?”
Zell grinned and swooped on Irvine again, kissing him for all he was worth.
“Are you sure…?” the fighter whispered against his mouth.
“Yeah. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“Listen here, you. You’re the sub. You’re mine, not the other way around!” But he was teasing, and they both grinned.
Zell would behave with Seifer tonight, but tomorrow, the gunbladist was going to get the serve of his life. He just had to understand that Irvine wasn’t going anywhere, and it was time to lay off. They could get along, if only Seifer would try. If only.
A/N: Hicky: If you aren’t Australian, or maybe British, or haven’t been in a RP with someone from Australia for 2 years, like me, then you might note some of the Australianisms. Examples include ‘rack off’, ‘you’re giving me the shits’, and ‘get the serve of his life’. Thankfully these all make relative sense. Unlike that one about sitting on a log like some really dumb black bird. Okay, so the birds’ not dumb, per se, but it sure sits there just like the saying goes. I saw one. “Sitting like a shag on a rock” or something.