Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Mine. ❯ Touched. ( Chapter 2 )

Warnings: Language, yaoi (duh), strange native behaviour, weird conversations between Hicky and I… Okay, I'm stopping.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Irvine or his FF8 friends, but I do own his “mother”, the chocobos' personalities, the plot (steal it and die), the native's pet's personality, and over sixty dragon statues. However, the dragon statues are mine and I shall not give them up if you sue me. So there. :P I'll sic my Chihuahua on you!

 

Pairings: Not telling. (In some cases, I don't know… ^^'')

 

Author's Notes: Hooray for the second chapter! *does a dance* Sorry it's been a while, but I had a visitor (Hicky! Hooray for us! She came all the way to Australia. CD) and we were doing stuff. I even converted her to AFL. Real football! Ha! Not that strange thing you Americans play in too much padding!

 

Anyway, about the fic. I love this fic. I love the native, most of all. He rules. And that's all I have to say.

 

On Language: Anything marked with backslashes, this /in this manner here/ is native language. Do not ask me to tell you what it sounds like because I have no idea. Just imagine it. I give you artistic license. ;)

 

Now! High, ho, Whipcrack, away!

 

Mine.- KittyMeowMaxwell.

 

Chapter Two - Touched.

 

When they arrived, his Gayla (1) wavered over to see what he had. He touched the velvet stand-on-end fur briefly, then shooed him away, and he went with a hiss of discontent. He chuckled and tethered the cowboy's chocobo, then removed the tack. His own bird had no need to be tethered, but he supposed he ought to tie this one up, at least until he trained it to behave.

 

Irvine shifted where he had been lain on the grass, drawing a glance. With a pat to Whipcrack's nose, he turned and went over to pick up the cowboy again and take him inside the cave he had prepared ready for this. Several soft pelts lay there, Mesmerize, Death Claw, Catoblepas, and even a Snow Lion pelt he had traded for some months ago. Upon these, he lay Irvine, stroking back the waves of hair that fell in front of the cowboy's face.

 

He swallowed, finding himself hard pressed not to just take what he wanted right there, but he would not do that. He wasn't the savage these people often made him out to be. But it was warm in the cave, warm enough to raise a sweat on his own near-naked body, so he wasted no time stripping Irvine bare and draping a light woven blanket over his lower body. Later, he would coax the cowboy into a loincloth like his own, but he didn't want to disturb him until he was ready to wake.

 

The dart went, removed and tossed into the fire upon which he threw a couple more logs. His chocobo ducked her head inside to see what he was doing and he smiled at her, then moved quietly around to fish out dried meat from a cool corner of the cave. This he wrapped carefully in a few green leaves, then set to cook in the hot coals at the base of the fire, away from the flames.

 

It wasn't long before the cowboy's nose was twitching at the aroma. He smiled and crouched by the fire to watch Irvine wake.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Irvine shifted on the pelts, one hand fisting in the soft fur beneath his fingers. He groaned slightly, and his other hand went to his neck, but he could feel no evidence of the dart he vaguely remembered being there. Perhaps he had been dreaming, but then, had he dreamed the entire trip to the O'Learys? Surely not.

 

The scent of cooking meat assailed his nostrils and his stomach gave a low growl, letting him know what it thought was the most important matter at hand. He rolled over onto his front and suddenly came to a realisation. He was naked. Yes, indeed. The furs he lay atop tickled his thighs, his stomach, his chest and when he shifted, he felt their soft brush across his skin. A rough blanket that he had managed to get wrapped around his hips provided a counterpoint, rasping across his backside and a far more tender area.

 

“Fuck…” he cursed lowly. “Where in Hyne's holy name…?”

 

He didn't bother to finish the question, preferring to open his eyes and discover for himself. What he saw made him catch his breath in shock.

 

He was in a cave, a merry fire burning in the center and various bits and pieces of backward hunting paraphernalia around. Something was cooking - it smelled delicious, and soft shifting sounds and low warks told him there were chocobos somewhere outside. But what truly shocked him was the individual crouched by the fire.

 

He had never seen a native up close, but he knew straight away that was what regarded him with a pair of sapphire eyes from beside the fire. He wore nothing but a spotted loincloth made of - as best Irvine could figure - Torama skin. His own skin was darker by several shades than Irvine's, and he shone with a fine sheen of sweat. The loincloth left little to the cowboy's imagination, falling straight down at the back and softly between a pair of powerful thighs that twitched slightly as the native shifted, watching him as intently as he watched the native. He could easily see the way those strong thighs flowed into hips and up to his waist. From toes to thighs to torso to chest to arms, there wasn't a scrap of wasted body mass. He was all muscle. Down the left side of his face was a black tattoo that was all sweeping lines and tapered points. Something similar, but in a band, wrapped around his right thigh and bled down towards the knee a little way. Bound into his golden hair, behind his right ear, were three long, blue-dyed Cockatrice feathers, and Irvine wondered with a vague sort of stunned detachment how in Hyne's name he got his hair to stand up like that at the front.

 

“Who are…” he started, then thought of something better. “Where am I?”

 

One golden brow winged upward and Irvine realised with a jolt that the native probably couldn't understand him. He swallowed, shifting, and looked helplessly around for his clothes while that quiet, sapphire gaze watched him attentively, barely blinking. At that moment, his stomach gave another insistent growl and he could have sworn there was a chuckle from the native's direction.

 

Suddenly, he was there and Irvine twitched, shimmying backward before he even thought about it. He hated that he couldn't even see his gun, but this native seemed capable of taking his life without even needing one. The cowboy would swear black and blue this other man could snap his neck without even breaking a sweat - or at least more of one than he was already showing.

 

A hand patted his arm in silent comfort and a second quick one flashed into the coals and out again, bringing with it a leaf-wrapped bundle that made Irvine's mouth water. A second snatch, and a second bundle appeared. The first one, the native opened and left by Irvine, the other he took and moved away again, as though he were aware he made the cowboy nervous.

 

They ate in silence, each watching the other, then Irvine tried again.

 

“Why did you bring me here?”

 

Silence.

 

“What do you want with me?”

 

There was a slight smile from the native, but Irvine really didn't think it had so much to do with what he said as the fact that he kept trying. It appeared to him like the kind of smile a woman gives her baby when it tried its first sounds that would eventually be speech.

 

He sighed, then decided at least he might try and get some sort of name.

 

“Irvine,” he said, pointing to himself.

 

Both golden brows went upward and Irvine felt like beating the man over the head with a stick.

 

“I'm Irvine,” he repeated, pointing harder to himself. “You?” and he pointed to the native.

 

His new… friend… seemed to consider this for a long moment, then eventually pointed to himself.

 

“Zell.”

 

“Zell? That's you? Zell.”

 

Zell pointed to himself again, smiling, and Irvine found a smile too. At least he had a name to work with.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Oh, he was just too adorable. The cowboy seemed to have no idea that he had been the subject of Zell's intense watch for some months now. He certainly hadn't known Zell already knew his name.

 

The blanket was slipping perilously low and Zell's eyes were drawn there. He'd seen what lay there briefly before he had covered the cowboy, and he wished to see it again, but he knew he couldn't frighten Irvine. Not now. It was going to be hard enough keeping him from leaving without physically pinning him down.

 

…Although… that could be fun.

 

Ah, ah, ah! He had to stop this. He couldn't afford to let his body get the best of him now. It wouldn't take the cowboy long to figure it out if his thoughts strayed, not with only his loincloth to keep his own privacy.

 

But eventually. Eventually, he would have the cowboy, and make it known to whom he belonged. This was only the first step.

 

Suddenly, Irvine was standing, hitching the blanket around his waist, and Zell blinked.

 

“You can't keep me here,” he said, but he wavered on his feet. The sleeping drug was still thick in his blood stream and he lifted a slender hand to his brow, closing those eyes who's colour matched the rain-washed sky. “I… have to g-go… home…”

 

The last word was a whisper and he was falling before he even took a step, but Zell was nothing if not fast and he easily caught the cowboy before he even came close to hitting the floor of the cave.

 

He lay Irvine down with a reproving look and gained a wide-eyed blink in return which made him smile with a possessiveness he doubted the cowboy could read in his semi-drugged state.

 

Lay down, he said with his hands at Irvine's shoulders and his eyes. Stay there.

 

Zell could see the moment when the cowboy became aware that he lay under the crouching native, the soft fur of Zell's loincloth brushing gently against the rough weave of the blanket around his hips. He turned faintly red and his eyes slid away to the dance of the flames. Zell's eyes narrowed predatorily and a smirk flashed small fangs before he lowered his body a little so that something else entirely brushed the blanket.

 

Irvine swallowed and the faint red blazed into something nearly as bright as the flames he was watching. His eyes screwed shut and his hands fisted in the furs beneath him. But there was a tell-tale twitch beneath the blanket that Zell found entirely heartening.

 

- - - - - - -

 

What… What's he doin'…? Oh, Hyne. Hyne, Hyne, Hyne…

 

When Zell stilled where he was and didn't move anymore, Irvine gained the courage to look up into the sapphire gaze and he swallowed again at the intensity he saw there. His mouth worked, but he could think of nothing to say.

 

Suddenly, Zell's head snapped up and he was off Irvine and out of the cave before the cowboy had a chance to blink. He released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and rolled onto his side, shivering from head to toe and back up again.

 

“Oh, dear Hyne…” he whispered, shaking his head slightly. “I… I-I…”

 

He had to go home. But he couldn't stand. His legs were like jelly from a combination of whatever had been in that dart and Zell's behaviour. Where did he go…? Irvine wondered, blinking at the cave mouth.

 

Voices rose, talking hard and fast in a language Irvine couldn't understand, but he could tell they were angry.

 

- - - - - - -

 

“/You can't have him here. They'll find you./”

 

Zell cocked his head at the other native, then shook it, turning his back in an obvious sign of disagreement. Whipcrack lifted his head from his grazing and Zell's own bird danced on the spot while the Gayla wove around his own and his visitor's feet alternately.

 

“/They won't find me./”

 

“/You're too confidant, Zell./”

 

“/You're not confidant enough. At least, not in me./”

 

“/Do you blame me?/”

 

“/This isn't your choice, Kiros. I'm not endangering anyone else - we're three days by chocobo from the Camp. Take them further, if you think I'm a danger. I don't care. I'll have what I want and prove to you I can do it./”

 

“/What if you can't? What if he turns on you?/”

 

“/Then it won't make a difference at all to you. Go. I have to get back to him./”

 

Kiros curled his lip, showing his disdain, and the long Cockatrice tail-pinions he wore in his braided hair clattered softly together when he shook his head.

 

“/Very well, then. On your head be it./” And he was gone, as silent as Zell, if not more so.

 

Zell remained where he was, watching to make certain Kiros had indeed left and that there were no others waiting nearby. He gave a snort, then turned and strutted inside, his Gayla close on his heels.

 

“/Kiros, only,/” he said soothingly, though he knew Irvine couldn't understand. “/He thinks he can still tell me what to do. Ha!/”

 

He moved across the cave, gathering up a log and dropping it carefully into the flames after poking them back to furious life. The Gayla wafted around the edge of the fire then went to investigate Irvine who stared fit to make his eyes pop out of his head. Zell grinned.

 

“Jirrah,” he said, pointing firmly at the Gayla.

 

“Is that its name, or its species…?” Irvine wondered and Zell cocked his head. “This is gonna be mighty difficult…” the cowboy sighed eventually, reaching out to touch the Gayla and making a noise of surprise when he found its hide to be velvet-soft instead of slimy or scaly.

 

Zell watched Jirrah chuff at Irvine's naked skin, scenting chocobos, sweat, oil, leather, gunpowder and any number of things neither his nor the cowboy's nose could hope to scent. But he wouldn't deny entertaining the idea of breathing in what he could smell of Irvine's skin himself.

 

Irvine's eyes soon turned to the cave mouth and he looked quite sad, so Zell moved carefully around the fire and settled on the edge of the furs, not too close, but close enough that he could reach out and touch Irvine's shoulder. The cowboy glanced at him, that same wide-eyed confusion that made Zell want him even more.

 

It's alright, he tried to say with his eyes. I'm here. You don't have to be lonely.

 

“My Ma's gonna worry,” Irvine said softly, propping his elbow on his knee and his cheek in his hand. “When are you gonna let me go?”

 

Zell was silent, but he matched Irvine's sad look which, ironically enough, made Irvine smile slightly.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Zell was really kind of cute. Like a puppy or the liquid gaze of the cows. Irvine hoped he wouldn't leave before he fell asleep. He didn't like the dark very much, at least in strange places. It was silly, he knew, but it was some throw-back from the orphanage that he didn't really understand.

 

Jirrah made an odd sort of wet purring sound from somewhere in what Irvine assumed to be his chest and curled around the cowboy's naked torso. It tickled to the point where Irvine laughed, skin twitching. A series of hair-thin appendages lifted from the Gayla's underside and clung statically to Irvine's skin, holding Jirrah in place and he glanced at Zell, both of who's eyebrows were almost in his hairline.

 

“I think he likes me,” Irvine said as the stalk-eyes flickered shut and drew inward a little. “…I can't move…” And he tried to, demonstrating his difficulty to Zell.

 

Zell grinned, showing a flash of straight, white teeth and… Irvine thought he saw fangs. The native shifted closer, catching his gaze, then directing with sapphire eyes that Irvine should watch him. He laid a hand to the base of Jirrah's tail, working his thumb and fingers against the white velvet in a deep massaging motion. The Gayla made the wet purring sound again and relaxed all over. The static hair-threads clinging to the cowboy's skin retracted again and Jirrah flopped off him into the men's laps.

 

Irvine grinned, then, highly amused and Zell gave Jirrah a shake. With a grumbling growl the stalk-eyes came back out and blinked at the native while he made shooing motions at the Gayla.

 

“Oh, no,” Irvine said suddenly, making Zell look up and blink questioningly at him. “No, leave him. I like him.” He shook his head and patted Jirrah, trying to make Zell understand what he was saying.

 

It didn't take long. He seemed to Irvine to be very intelligent, even if they couldn't understand each other's words. He yawned suddenly, and quickly covered it with his hand, feeling terribly rude. Zell only smiled and patted the furs.

 

“Yeah, that's a good idea,” Irvine agreed, shifting to lay down with Jirrah half beside, half draped over him.

 

Zell touched his hair and he bit his lower lip, uncertain what to think, but the touch smoothed out into a stroking, and Irvine's hair had always been a weak point for him. He relaxed, whether he wanted to or not, and gave a long sigh, eyes flickering shut. The native's hand undid the string holding his hair back so that he could stroke more easily and Irvine sighed again, snuggling into the soft furs beneath him.

 

He was asleep in moments.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Hmm… well that was an interesting point to note, Zell thought as his fingers combed through silken strands. A touch to his hair, and Irvine was anyone's. Anyone, that was, as long as it was himself.

 

He could still smell the girl on the cowboy's skin, sweat and female sex. He would take Irvine for a wash in the morning. The chocobos and Jirrah would like that, splashing around in the water. And so would he. He could show off for Irvine.

 

It was, of course, Zell's choice to make. He would have the cowboy whether the cowboy liked it or not, but he would much prefer it if Irvine wanted him in return. It wasn't necessary, truly, but Zell had heard protesting female cries from closed-up teepees and he didn't wish to hear those cries on Irvine's lips. It was other cries he would like to hear.

 

He shifted, crouching over Irvine's sleeping form again, and brushed the silken hair that fascinated him so much back from the cowboy's neck. He lowered his weight, not far enough to wake him, but enough to press lightly against him, face dipping close to the pale column of his neck so that Zell could breathe deep of his scent.

 

He smelled of chocobos, cows, leather and the oil that was thick on the saddle he used on Whipcrack. He also smelled of flowers, soap Zell assumed. He didn't have any of that.

 

Irvine shifted, nuzzling into the furs and he shivered slightly. Zell cocked his head a hand curving over the cowboy's shoulder, then touching his waist. His skin was cold. It was probably an after-effect of the drug. He knew that the best way to keep Irvine warm was to curl up with him, but if he woke to that, he would be terrified. Instead, Zell moved off him, ushering Jirrah closer, and pulled several of the furs around the cowboy's body. The shivering stopped and Irvine relaxed.

 

He would be alright here for some hours, Zell knew, and Jirrah would defend the cave mercilessly if he heard anything untoward, so he felt no worry leaving them alone there to go and hunt their breakfast before the sun set completely. One last glance to the sleeping pair, and Zell slipped out, quiet as the breeze.

 

- - - - - - -

 

“I don't see your worry, Ma'am… He's only been gone a few hours longer than he should've been. We all know Irvine…” The sheriff trailed off at the blank look on Mrs. Wentworth's face. “You have no idea what I mean, do you…?”

 

“…N-no… not really, Sheriff. I… don't know what you're implying…”

 

The sheriff tipped his tan hat back on his head, eyes sliding away from hers, then back.

 

“There's no polite way to put it, Ma'am. Irvine's no tender milkmaid. I would swear up and down he's spent an hour or three in a haystack with almost every eligible young lass in town and the surrounding ranches.”

 

She stared at him, eyes wide, and toyed with the hankie she held in her strong, weather-beaten hands.

 

“My Irvine…?”

 

“Yessirree, Ma'am. The one and only.”

 

“Sheriff-”

 

“Call me Seifer, Ma'am.”

 

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head or said something utterly unbelievable, then cleared her throat.

 

“Sheriff, I don't know what you think you've heard about my son, but he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't spend an entire night away from home without telling me he was going to first.”

 

“I've heard nothing, I've seen it. He leaves the saloon with a different girl every night he's down here.”

 

There was a stubborn set to her chin that Seifer had learned to be afraid of with ranch women. They were more stubborn than the goats some of them farmed, and he braced himself for a tongue-lashing. But she deflated almost in the next heartbeat.

 

“Listen, Sheriff, I don't know where he is, but I know he wouldn't disappear like that. He'd want to feed Whipcrack right, if nothing else, and he didn't take any feed or greens with him. You've got to go and look for him.”

 

Seifer straightened behind his desk, sticking his thumbs in his waistband and giving a sigh.

 

“I don't have to do anything, Ma'am.”

 

He was new to the town still. They still treated him like an outsider, despite the fact he'd been their sheriff for nearly six moths now. They behaved as though he didn't know anything. At all. Even about how he was supposed to do his job. He'd caught a cattle rustler, and they still didn't trust him.

 

“No…” she said warily, resignedly. “No, I suppose you don't, Sheriff.” The way she said it made it sound like a vile swear word and he winced, then sighed.

 

“Ma'am, I'm not saying something hasn't gone wrong, I'm just saying let's at least give him a few hours to show his nose. If he is…” Fucking. “…busy, he won't want to be disturbed.”

 

She sighed, nodding.

 

“I can see your point, Sheriff.”

 

Thank Hyne.

 

“Thank you, Ma'am. If he still hasn't turned up by sunup tomorrow, c'mon over and tell me. We'll do everything we can to find him.”

 

She nodded, those cornflower-blue eyes turning away from him momentarily. He was struck again by how much her eyes looked like Irvine's, even though they weren't related. After talking for a while, he and Irvine had realised they came from the same place, as did Selphie, and it struck them how uncanny it was that the three of them had ended up here. Seifer surmised that, since Irvine and Selphie had come with their families, it had been to get away from their original towns, where people knew they had adopted their children.

 

He had come here because he was tired of the larger towns and never getting a moment's peace. Here, the crime rate was far lower and there were less drunken brawls for him to break up. The men here seemed to come to the edge of blows, then just back off and return to laughing together.

 

“I'm sorry if I got upset with you, Sheriff,” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his reverie.

 

“I understand, Ma'am. Hopefully, I won't see your pretty face in the morning.”

 

She smiled at him, but he could see the fear in her eyes and she left very reluctantly.

 

Seifer sighed and shook his head, dragging his hat from his golden hair. This whole thing made him uneasy. She was right. It wasn't like Irvine. But by the same token, he wasn't about to go haring out into the wilderness on a hunch. He'd learned to trust his instincts, but only within reason.

 

Eli had already ridden along the path Irvine had taken. Leanne had told him that much. The man had found nothing, except that their son had made it to the O'Learys' and headed off again. Seifer planned to head out there himself when his day was done and he could leave his deputy in charge. He'd rather have a look around on his own then end up with a posse on his heels. One of them would be formed, no doubt, if Irvine really had gone missing, but Seifer preferred to be alone first.

 

“Ah, cowboy, you've gone and got me in trouble without even trying, and I haven't even breathed a word about why I can't keep my eyes off you…”

 

Which was, of course, another reason he had left his last town.

 

- - - - - - -

 

(1) Sure, one of these could be tamed. I don't know! But hey! If the Australian Aborigines can tame dingoes and the American Indians can tame wolves, then why can't this guy tame a Gayla, I say.

 

(1a) Conversation which resulted when I told Hicky about the Gayla:

Hicky: Because it has the word “gay” in it…?

Me: No… because I thought it would be trainable as opposed to something like a Death Claw or a Funguar, and at least it doesn't look like a toadstool on steroids.

Hicky: And the fact that it was GAYla had nothing to do with it.

Me: No. I never noticed. I focused on what it looks like.

Hicky: Wow. The yaoi juices really weren't flowing there.

Me: Hello! Nearly-naked native! I think that's pretty yaoi-juicy.

Hicky: Yeah… but… GAYla…

Me: …I seriously didn't notice…

 

Until she mentioned it anyway. Now every time I say anything about the damn critter, it's all I can think about! *dies*

 

Author's Notes: So, who guessed it? Huh, huh?! Anyone? Did anyone know it was going to be Zell?! I mean… aside from Hicky and I?! Or did I fool you all? *grins*