Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lightning. ❯ Chapter, The Thirty-Seventh: In Which There Are Races. ( Chapter 37 )

Kitty: Races! Yay! I wonder what the prize is? Sex on the beach with Zell and Irvine?!

Eoko: How would that be the prize at all?

Kitty: I don't know! But it would be a good prize... I'd do anything for sex with Zell and Irvine on the beach!

Eoko: Too bad they probably wouldn't do you. -giggles-

Kitty: Yeah, more's the pity. That's okay! I still own Irvine! -cackles-

Eoko: Yes you do. You know what makes me sad, Kitty?

Kitty: What makes you sad, Ko-Ko?

Eoko: The serious lacking of reviews. I know, I know. I preach not to ask for them, and tell people to write for themselves, but really! We had lots of people at the start. Where'd they all go? Or, why'd they stop giving us the reviews? I love knowing what people think.

Kitty: Hmm... me too. And we're pretty regular updaters, so they can't have forgotten the fic. Maybe they stopped liking it, though... I hope not! There's still a ways to go.

Eoko: Yea, there is! And the conflict is just heating up, believe it or not! And you're right, even if I'm late, I still get up a chapter a week. Hmm, maybe they'll tell us after reading this one.

Kitty: I hope so! Especially the speculation on what will happen!

Eoko: Yea! We wanna know what you're thinking, peoples!

Kitty: Comments make Irvykins happy!

Eoko: Now read the fic so you have something to review about. XD

Chapter, The Thirty-Seventh: In Which There Are Races.

“Zell, what are we doing here? This is boring as shit…”

“Humour me, alright?” Zell muttered, whacking Seifer with a rolled-up form guide. “I promised I’d spend today with you, but I gotta support Irvine and Lightning too. And I’d like… to spend the rest of the day with both of you. I know it’ll be hard for you, but you’re both… Seifer, I care about you both and… maybe… if you spend enough time together, you’ll get used to one another.”

Seifer grunted.

“I doubt it. He’s still a nancy pretty boy…”

“Seifer!”

“Sorry,R 21; Seifer grumbled, but he really wasn’t.

Zell sighed, running a gloved hand through the golden hair above his ear. The studs at his knuckles flashed, drawing the eye of a little boy with a tan cowboy hat and a plastic gun. He laughed and pointed with the gun, making bang, bang sounds, then he rode off on his hobby-chocobo, (1) yehaw’ing like a trooper. Zell smiled. Seifer did his best not to gag.

“Oh! Oh! This is it!” Zell cried suddenly, pointing insanely.

The worst country accent Seifer had ever heard came over the loud speaker system.

“Llladiiies aaan’ geeen’lemeeen! Hold onter yer hats ‘n’ rein in yer chocobos ‘cause heeere it is! The event y’all’ve been waitin’ fer – the barrel raaacin’ fiiinaaals!”

A whoop went up, along with a couple of cowboy hats, and Zell was near to bursting with excitement, clinging to the edge of the steel bench they sat on and leaning forward. Seifer yawned elaborately, but the fighter wasn’t paying attention.

“Gotta real treat fer yer today, cowboys ‘n’ girls! New-comer Irvine Kinneas – now don’t that name jes’ roll offer yer tongues, ladies?! – Yer, new-comer done out-raced some o’ the tried ‘n’ true champs o’ the continent ter be here today, an’ lemme tell you, he’s fixin’ ter give these men ‘n’ women a run fer their gil!”

“There he is!” Zell yelped, leaping out of his chair and throwing himself at the fence to hang over it as Irvine stood up in the stirrups, waving his hat at the crowd.

“Ain’t he the charmer, cowgirls?” came the voice again and Seifer snorted.

Zell’s voice rang out clear across the dusty arena.

“Yeah, and he’s mine!”

Irvine’s smile only widened and he tipped his hat to Zell, bowing from the waist before he settled it back on his head and sat back in the saddle. Lightning danced beneath him, kicking up his feet and showing off for the crowd. He wore bells in his crest and around his ankles, attached with dark blue velvet ribbons, and he jingled prettily as he walked, courtesy of one Selphie Tilmitt.

Irvine turned his head and directed him out of the way while the four other riders were introduced. His skin tingled with anticipation, a feeling akin to the one that built inside of him the morning after his birthday, when Zell made love to him again, slow, teasing, until he trembled and begged and wept for it. But it was different, too. There was an edge to it, a keen sharpness that made him want to win.

The fact that Zell was, in fact, sitting in the crowd made him want to win even more.

A tiny girl, blonde with huge eyes, kneed her chocobo up close beside him, smiling. She reminded him vaguely of Selphie, especially when she spoke.

“Hi! I’m Lacy! I heard ‘bout you from one of the girls what you beat out. Seems like you’re somethin’, Li’l Darlin’.”

He smiled a little sheepishly, touching his hat politely while she pushed hers back away from her eyes with an upraised finger.

“Ain’t me who’s somethin’, Lacy. It’s Lightnin’.”

“He your bird, or do you ride him for a stable?”

Irvine made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat.

“I ain’t too certain’ ‘bout that, really. I sold him a while back, then Zell bought him back for me and he pays his lodgin’s at the moment.”

“Zell?”

Irvine pointed and the fighter waved madly again making him smile despite himself.

“That’s him.”

“Cute,” she observed. “Do he pay you to ride for him?”

“Naw.” He rides me to ride for him… Irvine thought with a devilish excitement, then blinked at Lacy when she gasped and burst into a fit of giggles. It took him a few moments to realise he must have said that out loud, but when he did realise, he blushed.

“Oh, that’s priceless!” she cried after a moment, slapping him on the back. Yes. Very Selphie.

“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean…”

“To say that out loud, I know. You’re just adorable, Mr. Kinneas. Bet he says that, too, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Al’ight, I’ll shut up,” she giggled, grinning at him. “Just jealous, ‘cause y’already taken.”

Irvine touched his hat and ducked his head, laughing a little. Then Lacy’s chocobo bit Lightning. He warked in shock and danced away, hissing and lowering his head, wings mantled a little and crest twitching.

“Hey now!” Irvine snapped, going from amicable to pissed in no time flat. “Keep your bird in hand.”

“Shite. I’m sorry.” Lacy looked over her shoulder. “They’re callin’ me anyway.” She turned her chocobo and trotted him off and Irvine watched the way he twitched underneath her. Something had upset him. The thought was confirmed when he fought Lacy half the course, then simply balked at the last three barrels and ran straight past them.

Irvine winced. That sucked.

He soothed Lightning, murmuring to him and stroking his feathers until he seemed to calm down – as much as he could with the excitement of the crowd and the other birds around him.

Two more riders followed after Lacy, posting pretty good times. One was just under Irvine’s best times, the other just above.

“Our turn, darlin’,” Irvine said softly, patting Lacy’s neck, and directed him to the starting line.

- - - - - - -

“It’s Irvine’s turn!” Zell whispered nervously, clutching at the fence.

“No fucking duh…” Seifer muttered, slightly pissed off that Zell wasn’t even listening enough to have heard what he said. He was surrounded by cowboys… fucking cowboys… fucking cowboy in particular. He hoped viciously that Lightning would break his leg, then felt guilty, because it wasn’t the bird’s fault. He amended the thought, hoping instead that Irvine would fall off and break his leg.

He had to admit though, he thought grudgingly when the starter’s gun went off and Lightning sprang into action, Irvine looked pretty damn good doing that. He certainly knew his bird better than that chick at the beginning.

One more rider, and Irvine was clear second of the five. The first woman was dropped off, leaving only one, and the three men.

“What happens now?” Zell asked the cowboy beside him.

“Slate’s basically wiped clean, they race again. Slowest time is off. They go on like that ‘til there’s only one left. It’s purdy simple, really.”

Zell nodded.

“Didn’t Irvine tell you that?” Seifer asked, arching a brow.

“Uh…” Zell thought for a minute, then looked sheepish. “Yeah, I think he did. Oops.”

Seifer rolled his eyes and tried to find something interesting to watch while the racers went through the rounds. One of the men went next, then the other girl, then it was down to Irvine and another cowboy.

Zell was just about busting out of his skin with excitement. Seifer was bored stupid. It was the same thing over and over again. Some idiot with a hat on a yellow bird running around barrels. Woo.

- - - - - - -.

Irvine was as jittery as Lightning, but the other guy had beaten his times every round so far, and he didn’t see how he could push Lightning anymore. His chocobo was tired, but still desperate to run.

The other cowboy tipped his hat politely, then moved up to the starting line. Again, he timed faster than Irvine and Lightning had managed.

“But we can still try, can’t we darlin’?” Irvine murmured, glancing to where Zell stood.

They were two seconds too slow and Irvine cursed, but he congratulated his opponent and was glad of the second place money. He settled Lightning back in his float, then went to find Zell… and Seifer. He wished the fighter hadn’t wanted to bring the blonde prick, but he found it difficult to say no to Zell, and at least Seifer didn’t seem so unbearable when Zell was there.

He found them in the stands, and Zell hugged him tightly, planting a kiss on his lips and fussing as though he’d won the World Championship instead of coming second in the local competition.

“Lunch is on me anyways,” Irvine said when he could finally get a word in, showing the gil notes that were his prize money.

“Good. I’m starving,” Seifer said, smirking.

Irvine smiled hesitantly at the gunbladist, reminding himself he had to be civil for Zell’s sake.

They found a little stall that was selling hotdogs, and got Zell’s lunch there, and Seifer chose to have some spaghetti that smelled amazing. Irvine took ages of wandering among the various stalls to finally choose nachos, then they found a tree under which to camp and eat.

It was actually pleasant, and Irvine was surprised. For once, Seifer made civilized conversation, and the sharpshooter even found himself laughing at a couple of things the gunbladist said. It seemed, however, that it was only the occupation of eating that kept Seifer’s mind off being an arsehole, because he was back at it the moment he dropped the plastic bowl and cutlery in a bin.

“So, only second, huh?” he teased lowly when Zell disappeared to go to the toilet.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of,” Irvine said softly, plucking at the grass. “They’re the best and it were my first time.”

Seifer smirked.

“I hear you’re good at first times, Priscilla. Hear you moan and squeal like a thousand-gil whore…”

Irvine went beetroot red, then he lifted his head and glared, hands fisting against his thighs.

“That ain’t none of your business, Seifer, and I know Zell wouldn’t talk like that about me. He might’ve talked about… what happened, ‘cause I know you’re his best friend, but he, like, wouldn’t say it like that.”

“No. He wouldn’t. I said that.” Seifer touched Irvine’s cheek, stroked his thumb against the skin and watched the sharpshooter swallow nervously. “Would you squeal for me, too, hmm? If I touched you in the right places, would you moan…?”

Irvine slapped his hand away, biting his lower lip.

“Just stop it. I love Zell and you… I don’t understand why you’re…” Irvine shook his head, then swore suddenly. “I hate you so much!”

“The feeling is mutual, cowboy. I hate you, too.”

“Then… why do you…” he indicated his cheek, looking helpless.

“Because it’s fun to watch your face, and sometime, you’ll give in, then I can tell Zell what happened.”

“Bastard! I’ll never hurt him like that!”

“We’ll see.”

Seifer smirked, then turned it into a friendly smile as Zell returned, full of energy and wanting to look around some more.

For the rest of the day, Irvine made sure Zell was between himself and the gunbladist.

- - - - - - -

(1) I.E: Hobby-horse. If you don’t know what a hobby-horse is, you’ve had a deprived childhood…