Mine.
Wet.
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Warnings: Shounen-ai,
classify it, bad language, a Gayla… That’s about it.
Pairing: I think you can guess.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything pertaining to Final Fantasy
8, but I do own Jirrah, Shir’nis,
Whipcrack (their personalities at least) and this
plot. I don’t do this for profit, so don’t sue me, because all I have is a numb
butt (from this uni comp chair) and several used bus
tickets.
Author’s Notes: I hate uni. I hate
wherein I attend uni. It is cold, it is wet, and did
I mention, it is cold? I do not, however, hate this fic.
I love it. I especially love Jirrah. If anyone feels
inclined to make me a Jirrah-plushie go right ahead.
;)
As before, anything marked /thus/ is native-speak.
Mine.
Chapter
Three – Wet.
stirred very slowly the next morning and snuggled deeper inside the soft,
earthy-smelling furs, feeling Jirrah’s little
static-cling hairs all up his stomach and chest. The Gayla
gave off an enormous amount of heat and
thought he could quite happily drift off again, so warm and soft was his new
bed.
But curiosity worried at his mind as well and he soon opened
his eyes to see if Zell was around. He remembered
falling asleep last night with the native’s hand warm and gentle in his hair.
The fire was banked, still glowing, and Zell
was nowhere to be seen, but
found his interest taken by the various things around the cave. There was a row
of new-looking darts along one wall, laid out on the cave floor. They weren’t
feathered yet, so
supposed that must be a job Zell hadn’t done yet. A
bow hung on an exposed root, a quiver of chocobo-feathered
arrows set below it. Several woven, extremely beautiful rugs softened the rough
walls. There was only one fur on the other side of the glowing coals, and
fact that the native had only used the one, while he left an entire pile of
them for him.
Nowhere could he see his clothes or his gun.
A low wark sounded outside, and
it.
“Whipcrack,” he whispered.
He stroked his hand down Jirrah’s
spine, and mimicked the massage Zell had showed him
the evening before. It took him longer to do it just right, but eventually the
static hairs.
chuckled and slipped out of the furs, leaving Jirrah
wrapped up tight. He took just one for himself, a huge, soft Snow Lion pelt.
He’d only seen one before, and he would never forget how it shifted from
blinding white to ice-blue in different lights. He’d seen it in an exceedingly
rich rancher’s entryway when his father had taken him there on business. He
wondered how Zell got this one. It was terribly
snuggled into it. The rough blanket he gladly left behind.
He still shivered in the fresh cold of the morning, mist
swirling around his bare feet and dampening his loosed hair. But… he felt a
freedom that was strange to him. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t even lonely. The
wilderness sang to him and he relished the realisation
that there would be no chores and especially no cows today.
Whipcrack warked
madly when he caught sight of the cowboy and
bird. He held the fur tight around himself with one hand and lifted the other
to rub vigorously between Whipcrack’s eyes, the way
he really liked it. The bird gave a long, soft kweh
from the back of his throat, eyes half-closing, and
“Yeah, darlin’.
I’m still here. You sure look happy enough.”
There came a hard nudge at his back and
several times when his eyes lit on what could only be Zell’s
chocobo. No chocobo
been anything but canary-yellow, but this one was all white and brown patches.
“Well aren’t you the pretty thing?” he said, transferring
his hand to the other bird’s forehead.
Whipcrack didn’t like that and he
protested vocally, nipping at
hair.
“Hey, you. Listen here. You can
just be patient.”
studied the two-coloured chocobo,
judging by the size of its crest and the feathers of its tail that it was a
female. (1) Whipcrack actually pulled, then, and
yelped.
“Whipcrack!
You’re askin
attention! I’d pat both of you, but then I’d be, like, standin’
here naked, ‘cause I’d have no hand to hold the fur
with!”
Zell’s chocobo
made a soft sound suddenly and slipped away from him.
and found the native standing there, watching him. He smiled, a little
hesitant. He still wasn’t sure what Zell was going to
do. Maybe his captor – such as he was – wouldn’t be pleased that
He didn’t seem upset, though. He simply lifted a hand,
indicating the bird who was nipping affectionately at
the feathers in his hair.
“Shir’nis,” he said.
“That’s her name?”
Zell cocked his head and pointed
to
“Whipcrack,” he said, which
surprised
because he knew he hadn’t told the native his chocobo’s
name. Then Zell was pointing to the female again. “
“Yes! Good. That’s her name. She’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen
one like that before.”
Zell smiled, then came over and
touched
fingers where they held the fur closed at the front.
flushed and backed away two steps, only to get a cocked head and blinking
sapphire eyes. Then, Zell turned and started off the
way he had come, pausing to look over his shoulder when
tattoo spread over his left shoulder-blade.
Well. Come on, his
eyes said.
blinked some more, but his curiosity was piqued, so he followed, footsteps
light in the dawn hush. Compared to Zell’s, however,
he sounded like a herd of chocobos charging in for
their feed. The man was as bare-foot as
was, but there was no sound from his
feet.
Zell lead him through trees more
dense than he was used to, the shelter and slightly wetter climate provided by
the lower reaches of these mountains providing the necessary elements for
better growth.
looked around, finding a still beauty in the forest that was like the beauty he
found in the sunset. Then they stepped through the tree-line and into a
clearing.
gasped, and that seemed to amuse Zell. They had come
to a lake of the clearest water the cowboy had ever seen. A slow trickling
waterfall burbled down several levels of cliffside to
make its leisurely way into the lake which steamed in the cool air.
it was also fed from somewhere underground, water heated by nature’s design.
He’d heard of hot-springs before, but never seen one.
Zell wasted no time unlacing his
one scrap of clothing and putting it aside before he stepped fearlessly into
the water, but
was slower. With any other man, he wouldn’t hesitate to hop on in, but this
man, this native, had already behaved strangely and the water would afford no
obscurity whatsoever. It was clear as crystal.
chest-deep.
When he realised
turned.
- - - - - - -
Zell, for his part, couldn’t
fathom why on earth the cowboy was standing there as though he were afraid
he thought, he was. But he wasn’t so rude as to do so now,
and besides, he couldn’t breathe well enough underwater to make any sort of
swallowing possible or enjoyable for either of them.
He saw
studying him – all of him – and that
much was good, but he knew the cowboy would still smell of the girl, and he
couldn’t have that. He would take the pelt and throw
that…?
Zell cocked his head, because the
movement had seemed to work so far, and he lifted a hand out of the steaming
water, beckoning. He saw
swallow and take a step forward, but still he hesitated.
As much as he looked exceedingly delectable standing there
on the bank with fog and steam wafting around him and his hair shifting
slightly in a gentle breeze, Zell was getting
impatient.
wasn’t playing by the rules. Ah! But! Here, he had to be careful.
This was no member of his own people, but a different man who needed to be
educated.
Zell came forward and strode out
of the water, knowing the way it sluiced off his body complimented him
perfectly. He went to
with a no-nonsense gait, an easy grace to his movements that he caught the
cowboy watching. There was a knowledge there. An
understanding in those sky-eyes that there was something he was missing,
something he didn’t know about, but felt.
understood that much.
Zell wanted to kiss him, because
the way he stood with his lips slightly parted and his hair framing his face
silently begged for it. But not yet. Not
could be patient. He would be.
It was easy to make
let go of the fur. All Zell had to do was take hold
of the blue-white and tug it away from the gripping fingers. The cowboy was no
match for his strength. He dropped the pelt pointedly to pool around
sure to flex his muscles, showing off shamelessly. Impressing
cowboy’s hand a tug in the direction of the lake, then strutted off
Yes. Watch me. I am
finally followed, stepping slowly into the water as Zell
surfaced, his hair now hanging in his face. Zell
smiled and the cowboy smiled back, hesitant, but curious. Curiosity,
continue to show new things and new places, the cowboy would want to stay, and
the longer he stayed, the more Zell would be able to
coax understanding from him.
For he must understand, eventually, that he
And if he did leave, then Zell
would bring him back, no matter how long he had to wait for another opportunity
to do so. Again and again, until he understood.
Come,
Again,
hesitated, but Zell supposed that was only natural.
After all, he was imposing and dangerous. But he would never hurt the cowboy.
He smiled reassuringly when
started towards to him, and found that there was a ready smile for
was responding.
“You look different,”
said – he seemed to feel some need to fill any silence or still moment with
speech. It seemed to make him nervous if no one spoke. “With your hair down, I
mean.”
And he reached out and touched it. Zell
let him. He would let
do anything, as long as it wasn’t leaving or going to someone else. After a
moment, Zell returned the favour,
smoothing his fingers through
hair like he had the night before.
eyes flickered half-shut and his hand fell back to his side.
to nothing but reactions with a mere touch of his hand. He wanted more, but he
reminded himself again that he must be patient. Still…
“/I want to make you mine,
everyone to know it, so no one else may touch you, especially females.
Especially the one you’re washing away now./”
frowned, obviously wondering what Zell was saying,
and his eyes opened again. He knew whatever it was, he
was being spoken directly to. Of course he could understand his own name, in
among the other words Zell used.
“/It’s alright. It’s better this
way. I can say whatever I want to without frightening you off./”
He smiled and the cowboy gave him one in return, though it
was a little uncertain.
“/Ah! I want to kiss you. You’re
too beautiful for words./”
Zell lowered his hand and stepped
back, before his body got the better of his iron control. He didn’t even
attempt to hide his slow examination of everything the cowboy had to offer.
When his eyes came back to
there was a mixture there of nervousness and uncertainty, hope and fear.
They both looked over to the bank at the sound of a splash.
It was Shir’nis, tailed closely by
under until there was nothing of her above the water, then
she broke the surface, shaking her head-feathers free of water before she
strode over to them. Jirrah was more graceful. He
slid into the water with barely a ripple and his body waved along under the
clear surface until he could wrap himself around
“/Ai. He likes you
but
wasn’t listening. He had found a way to make the Gayla
laugh. Or at least, something
He was tickling at the junction between fin and neck and the
wet purr Jirrah usually made was broken into a series
of short sounds remarkably like laughter. Zell
watched them, head cocked. Even he had never discovered this quirk. He
wondered, suddenly, if
were ticklish…
- - - - - - -
couldn’t stop laughing at Jirrah, especially when his
tickling resulted in the Gayla letting go and falling
into the water with a plash far less
graceful than his previous entry. Shir’nis came to
see what was so funny and then grew jealous that Jirrah
was getting all the attention. She began to nip at
Zell appeared, then, shooing both
animals, and they went, content to chase each other around in the water. The
sharpshooter couldn’t help but smile at him. There was a
magnetism to him that
had already felt, but became acutely aware of with the native standing there
completely devoid of clothing and with the intent look of study on his face he
often seemed to wear. He was so wild and dangerous. When
his breath catch and his stomach do a strange flip-and-dip that left his libido
stirring gently.
That scared him. No one should react to a man like that
unless they were a woman, and
certainly wasn’t a woman.
He snapped out of his thoughts when Zell’s
hands came to his sides, and before he could open his mouth to ask what was
going on, the native began to tickle him.
“Oh! N-no! Zell! Quit it!” he
cried, kicking and squirming already, laughter on his lips.
Zell only grinned and tickled
more.
“Zell!
Oh, Hyne, no! Quiiit
thrashed in the water, finally getting a foot against Zell’s
thigh and pushing himself away. He turned over in the water and fled across the
crystal warmth, hearing Zell leap into instant
pursuit. He laughed merrily, and heard the native’s laugh join his own, which
only made him want to laugh more – so he did, swimming as fast as he could.
He made it to a rock jutting up out of the steaming water
and started to scramble up it, but Zell’s strong hand
wrapped around his ankle and dragged him back in with an almighty splash, arms
going around his waist and hands tickling at his sides again. He squirmed and
wriggled against the native’s water-slick skin, several times convinced he was
almost free, only to have Zell readjust his grip and
hold him the tighter.
Eventually,
gave up struggling and hung in Zell’s arms, panting
and giggling alternately. He found the random bursts of giggles that escaped
him terribly embarrassing, but found he couldn’t stop them, because
tickling.
“Mercy,” he begged. “Mercy, mercy.
I know you can’t understand me, but
Thankfully, Zell stopped and
relax, forehead against a strong shoulder.
“Evil,” he accused. “You’re evil.”
Zell let him go and patted his
head, grinning, then climbed up on the rock
native gave his shoulder a light push and he fell back again, surfacing with a
splutter and a mock-glare. Zell grinned
mischievously. That turned into another game, where they each attempted to
shove each other off the rock or get onto it. Zell
won more often than not, and that seemed to please him. Certainly, he spent a
lot of time posing atop the rock and showing off his – admittedly quite
impressive – muscles.
Finally, Irvine found himself a hand-hold that couldn’t be
shifted and managed to cling to the rock for long enough that
striking out towards where Irvine’s fur lay. The sharpshooter perched where he
was, watching the way the water flowed over Zell’s
body, and then ran free of it when he strode out. He caught himself licking his
lips and forced his eyes to look elsewhere, flushing.
His heart was beating a little faster and he shivered. That,
he could put down to a gentle breeze teasing at his wet skin, but even he knew
that was a flimsy excuse. But, an excuse for what?
What was going on?
Zell turned towards him as he tied
the loincloth around his hips and seemed surprised to find that he was still
perched on the rock. He beckoned to the cowboy and then stood, hands on hips,
quite obviously expecting to be obeyed. He was an arrogant man if nothing else.
somewhat like a pet or a damned chocobo.
He rides his
him and that stir deep in his belly shifted again. He flushed and dove quickly
into the water to hide it, swimming over to the bank and scrambling out.
body and snuggling into it. The native smiled indulgently, then turned and
headed off through the trees.
found his gaze drawn by the flex of muscle beneath lightly tanned skin. It made
his mouth go dry. He couldn’t keep from smiling, because the prospect of a few
days with Zell was far more appealing than the
prospect of cow-chores.
- - - - - - -
Seifer wasn’t at all surprised
when
mother turned up on the doorstep the next morning. He had nothing to tell her,
though. He had suspicions, but nothing concrete.
He’d gone up to have a look around, and found
bird, and Eli had ridden up there as well. He’d found a few more tracks off the
path, in the foliage, and a few stray brown and white feathers, which made his
eyes narrow. He knew the natives had chocobos that
weren’t golden. But what possible reason could one of them have for taking
were other things with feathers.
There was no sign of shooting or a scuffle and barely any
broken foliage, so what had happened?
Seifer had ridden back to town
with the nagging suspicion that it had been one of the natives, but no way to
prove it and no motive. However, he wasn’t about to tell Leanne this.
“He still hasn’t turned up, Ma’am?” he wondered slowly,
drawing out a chair for her like the gentleman he was. She refused it, and
remained standing.
“No indeed he hasn’t, Sheriff. I’m fair going out of my mind
with worry!” She wrung her hands, stepping nervously from foot to foot and
“I went on up there last night, Ma’am,” he told her. “I
didn’t find anything helpful, but I’m thinking we might have to get a search
party going. Doesn’t sound like
to lose control of his chocobo, but maybe something
spooked Whipcrack real bad. That’s the only thing I
can think of.” Liar.
“They might both be somewhere up the track, hurt.”
She nodded, blue eyes wide.
“I’ll sort a couple of boys and we’ll head out after lunch.
Shouldn’t be too hard to find him, I reckon,” he reassured her, though he
wasn’t so sure himself.
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Please, Ma’am, call me Seifer.
I’m not so much older than your boy.”
She smiled at him, then turned and headed out, but paused at
the door, turning to look over her shoulder.
“If you need anything, lunch packed or drinks or anything,
just call by our place on your way out, Seifer.
He tipped his hat, nodding to her.
“Thank you kindly, Ma’am. Might just take
you up on that.”
She returned his nod, then headed
out and he flopped into his chair, passing a hand across his emerald eyes.
Where in the hell could that damned cowboy be? He had no reason to stray from the path, and Seifer
knew he was pretty much flat-out lying to the woman. There was still that
suspicion in the back of his mind, but it had no grounding, and always it came
back to reason. What reason would any native have for taking
towards them. In fact, Seifer was fairly certain he
had never been near them.
“Seifer…?”
He looked up as his deputy stepped in the door, sweeping a
black hat much like
off dust-caked brunette locks. He ran gloved fingers through the unruly mess,
so much dust falling from it that the poor man coughed.
“I gather the trip to and from the Bennet
place was pretty dry, then…?” Seifer teased, smirking
despite himself.
“Bastard…” the man muttered, then
nodded. “Yeah, dry. And there wasn’t anything out there. I swear that woman
only sends her boy down here to get one of us so she can bat her lashes and
make suggestions about haystacks…”
Seifer snorted, standing and
heading over to a low table to pour his deputy and friend a mug of beer. It was
accepted gratefully and half-drained before attention turned back to
conversation.
“Well,” Seifer remarked. “You
after all, Leonhart.”
The man just looked at him, clearly unimpressed.
He was the fourth of their little orphanage to end up here,
but he had come with Seifer, so the blonde figured
that wasn’t quite so creepy. Still,
the fact that they had run into one another in the first place was creepy
enough. He supposed they must just be drawn together because they’d grown up
together so early. He wondered to himself often if anyone else from that band was going to appear.
“Watch your mouth, Almasy, or
“It’s just you ‘n’ me, Squall. No one’ll
hear.”
“That’s what you said last time,” Squall pointed out softly,
storm-cloud eyes troubled.
“I’ll be more careful,” Seifer
promised, relenting. “Listen, we’ve got to go look for
“He still not back?”
“No, and his Ma’s awful worried.”
“And I’m sure she’s the only
one…”
“Shut up, Squall. I need you to grab Bobby and Dylan for me.
At least those two have sensible heads on their shoulders. We might be gone a
while, so best let that clinging thing you reckon is your girl know.”
Squall shot him a filthy look, but he only shrugged.
“What? She’s fucking annoying and you can do better.”
“Like with you, maybe?”
“No! Hyne, I’ve been down that
path before. Bad idea, wanting a guy with different
preferences. Just find a decent girl.”
“You just don’t like her because she’s sugary and sweet and
you like your ‘girls’ with a bit of fight and muscle.”
“No, I don’t like her because she’s a whiny, annoying, spoilt
little bitch.”
“Seifer!”
“It’s true. Ten to one says she whines when you tell her
you’ll be out late tonight.”
“She doesn’t whine.”
“Oh, you can’t be serious!” Seifer
scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s about as whiny as they come.”
“I’m this close to hitting you, Sheriff.”
Seifer snorted again and shook his
head, then layered his voice with mock-sweetness, clasping his hands and
batting his lashes.
“Do tell
And that I’d be simply delighted to
see her again sometime.”
“Fuck, you’re an arsehole…” Squall
muttered. One thing he did hate about Rinoa was that
pet name. But he found Seifer’s tendency to pick on
than Rinoa herself… Although… she did have a habit
of-
He shook those thoughts out of his head and went to rustle
up Bobby and Dylan – after he’d gone to see
Seifer watched him go with a smirk
and a shake of his head. Surely it could only be a matter of time before the
quiet brunette got sick of Rinoa’s effusive
pretty an arse as the one Squall Leonhart
possessed shouldn’t belong to a woman.
“Ah, Almasy,” he muttered, running
his gloved hand through his hair. “Don’t even think it. You’ve been down that
road before, and you know where it ended. You’re damned lucky the man’s still
your friend.”
Still… it was such
a pretty arse…
So was
for that matter, but Seifer was pretty damn sure
there’d be no luck on that front, either. At least not the way
such a rate anyone would think they were going to vanish off the face of the
planet and the cowboy was storing up experiences for when it happened.
He hated being the way he was…
With a sigh, Seifer headed out,
locking the jail behind him. Hopefully nothing too drastic would occur while
they were busy looking for
but he wasn’t too worried. Half the time, he went whole days without being
called for. Both his and Squall’s birds were already saddled, so all he needed
to do was untie them from the tether-rail outside, vault into his
where he was pretty sure his deputy would gravitate.
What he didn’t expect was the ten other men riding behind
Dylan and Bobby who were riding behind a scowling, stalking Squall
“What the hell…?” Seifer wondered
under his breath as they approached.
Squall swung into the saddle and leaned over, keeping his
voice low.
“I couldn’t get them to understand that we don’t
have lynched me if I tried any longer to tell them no.”
Seifer sighed hard enough to make
the two stubborn locks of hair that always refused to remain under his hat
lift, then nudged his bird, Knightly, past Squall,
Dylan and Bobby to face down the mob of ten men.
“Gentlemen, much as we appreciate your help, w-”
“Ain’t no way we’re
home, Sheriff. If
done taken a fall from his chocobo,
might take more’n four men to bring him on back.”
How could it take more
than four men to bring back one?! Seifer wondered
hotly, but he kept his mouth shut – for the moment. He wasn’t a patient man.
“Really, if we need help, one of us can ride back for it,”
the Sheriff pointed out reasonably.
“Might take too long ‘n’
in the meantime.”
Oh sweet gods… Men are
stupid! Why do they want to come
along?!
“We’re capable of handling this,” Seifer
said, steel lacing his words.
They barely hesitated.
“Are y’just? We still
Seifer’s temper snapped and his
fingers tapped warningly against the grip of his pistol.
“I don’t reckon I care what you are and aren’t sure of,
made them all reign their chocobos a step backward.
“We won’t be requiring your help, and if you do follow us, I won’t hesitate to
throw every one of you in the lock-up for the night. Am I clear?”
They said nothing, but they didn’t try to follow when
Squall pulled up beside him, a slight grin threatening to
break the front he put up of not caring or reacting.
“I think you might’ve made yourself an enemy,
didn’t look too impressed at all.”
“I don’t give a shit, Squall. Whether they like it or not,
not going to let them walk all over me.”
“Good,” Squall agreed and they set off to begin their
search.
- - - - - - -
(1) “Wow!” all the readers said. “Kitty sure can bullshit.
First the Gayla and it’s hair-cling things, now the sex of the
“Yes,” Kitty agreed. “I can bullshit. And it’s my
Author’s Notes: Woo! On with the hotness! I love writing
native-Zell so much. XD He’s so arrogant.