My Room, My Rules
folder
Final Fantasy VIII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
859
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VIII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
859
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Cliffhanger
Square/Enix (Squix?) owns all. Characters used without permission, yada, yada, yada. Plot mine though!
Lang, M/M, Slash
“Mmmmm,” came the moaning complaint.
“Ok, babe,” the Sorcerer said softly as he kissed his Commando’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything.” Leaving their clothes strewn about the deck, he picked up the fighter and carried him below to the feathered pads he had set up in the cargo area earlier. Carefully laying the martial artist down in the soft mats, he kissed his forehead and tucked him under the quilt. Setting the assault boat’s computer to wake them up 45 minutes out from Balamb Harbor, Seifer crawled into the feather bed, drew his lover close, and smiled. Hyne was in his Heaven, and all was right in Seifer’s World.
_______________________________________________________
Chapter 9:
“…beep … beep … Beep … Beep … Beep … BEEP … BEEP … BEEP …BEE-”
“All right! All Right! We’re awake! Shut the Hynedamned alarm off!”
The ship’s computer turned off the alarm before informing its passengers “Wake up alarm cancelled. Good evening, Instructor Zell Dincht. Good evening, Honorary SeeD Seifer Almasy. Arrival time estimated to be 18:41, Balamb Mean Time. Destination: Balamb Harbor.”
The Great Almasy stretched and watched appreciatively as Zell bounded to his feet and began a few warm up katas. Power flexed, sinews corded, and Seifer was once again awed by the gift he had been given by the martial artist. The smaller blonde could easily break him in half, Sorcerer magic notwithstanding, but chose to let the gunbladist top him, trusting in his partner to give him pleasure, instead of taking it for himself. Never had he judged the bigger blonde’s actions during the Neo-Sorceress War. Never had he turned away in disgust of what he had done in the name of Ultimitia. And most importantly, never had he failed to defend Seifer from the numerous barbs and threats that had come his way. His ever-caring, ever-faithful, ever-accepting Chicken Wuss. No, not Wuss. Never again Wuss. His Commando.
“Se-Fe!”
Zell’s sharp tone brought him back to the present. “Sorry, Babe. Just thinkin’.” The fighter snorted in disbelief and closed his eyes. As Seifer had strengthened his Sorcerer Abilities and Magic over the past couple of months, the martial artist had practiced on the Knightly senses that Squall had shown him. The most important was “Scanning”. Unlike the spell of the same name, the Knight Scan was an area effect, not an individual one. While he couldn’t tell exact HP or weakness within an area, he could ascertain location, number, and general health. This had been vital on the Lenown Plains. Coming face to face with a Jell eye first thing in the morning had been a rude wake up call. A quick Knight Scan made sure there were no surprises.
Seifer snapped to instant awareness as his Commando’s unease increased. “What’s wrong, Baby?” he asked, concerned at the level of the smaller man’s concentration and frustration.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Can you be a lit-tle more specific?”
“Someone’s hurt,” said the fighter abruptly.
“Okaaaayy. Who’s hurt?” the gunbladist asked, carefully watching his lover. “Can you tell where they are? How are they hurt?”
“I don’t know! I can’t get a fix! It’s getting weaker …” The Commando opened his eyes and they blazed with bright blue fire. “Se-Fe! I’ve never felt this before!” He was visibly shaken by his inability to zero in on the person in need.
“Sssshhhh, it’s ok.” The gunbladist gathered him close, reassuring the smaller man. “We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you stop the boat, Mr. Techno Wiz? Then we’ll go up on deck and figure this thing out, together.”
“Ok,” replied the fighter resignedly, then crooked a grin. “And maybe get dressed?”
_________________________________________________
On deck (which had been cleared by the wind and waves of lost clothing), the Commando and the Sorcerer began to Scan for the injured person. After a few minutes of futile effort, Zell cautiously suggested trying to pool their Abilities.
“Think it’ll work?” asked the gunbladist.
“Can’t hurt. Can we try, Se-Fe?”
“Sure, Babe. Whatever you want.” Seifer was thrown by the flash of stark longing shown on the fighter’s features, then it was gone, leaving the bigger blonde wondering what he truly saw.
“Chickie?”
The Commando shook his head, turned, and backed up into the embrace of his Sorcerer. The gunbladist curled an arm around the smaller blonde’s waist and under the oversized T shirt, his fingers tracing the platinum trail of hair that disappeared beneath the denim skaters. “Hold me, Se-Fe. If you can just amp my Power …” Zell closed his eyes again and leaned back into the bigger blonde, drawing on the nearly unlimited Power of his Sorcerer and seeking outside himself like Squall had taught him. With Seifer’s help, he could Scan further. “Ummm, I see the beach, the Harbor, the cliffs, the mountains … wait. Go back. The cliffs, they’re at the cliffs!”
“Good job, Chickie!” the gunbladist’s voice rumbled low and supportively in his ear. “Try to focus in. Whereabouts on the cliffs?” As he encouraged his Commando, Seifer lifted the binoculars with his free hand and began to scan the cliffs the old fashioned way.
“Mmmm,” hummed the fighter unconsciously as he reached further with his Power, homing in on the source of distress. “At … at the base of the cliffs … or maybe a little way up … closer to the mountains than to the Harbor … and it’s a guy … he’s hurt really bad, Se-Fe … he’s poisoned.” Zell drooped in the Sorcerer’s arms. Opening his eyes, Seifer was startled by how the bright cyan was tinged with exhaustion. “Maybe he got poisoned and fell over the cliff?” the Commando asked wearily.
“Maybe. We’ll tell Squall when we hit the Harbor.”
“No way, Se-Fe.” The martial artist’s expression turned downright stubborn. “We gotta get’im. He can’t hold out much longer. And if we go through town, you know we won’t get clear for hours!”
“Well, the assault boat can get close to the cliffs, but I don’t know if we can land it,” the Sorcerer said thoughtfully. “It will depend on the tide level. I’ll break out supplies and essentials while you go drive this hog over to the cliffs. I’ll even guide you in.”
“Ooooh, baby!” teased the smaller man. “Doncha you wanna to drive?”
“I’m always drivin’,” smirked the taller blonde. “But not this wallowing tub.”
____________________________________________________
As it turned out, none of Seifer’s directions were necessary. The depth finders and various external cameras were more than adequate to guide the Commando in, though he did get a thrill of acting as if the Sorcerer was actually helping. Tide was half in, so there was still a strip of sand at the base of the cliffs to ground the assault boat on. By the time the gunbladist finished securing the boat, Zell came bouncing up the stairs from the drive room.
“What’s with the excess gear, Se-Fe?” he asked, only picking up one rope bundle, a string of pitons and carabineers, and a rock hammer.
“Maybe to climb the cliff with, Chickie?!” said the Sorcerer sarcastically.
“Just a waste of time,” argued the stocky little blonde, hopping onto the spit of sand. “I’ve been free climbing these cliffs since I left the orphanage.” He walked back and forth, trying to visualize the best way up the cliff. It was then he saw the marks that someone made attempting to scramble up the craggy rocks where they ended at a ledge a little way up.
“But you haven’t reconned the route!” exclaimed the Sorcerer.
His Commando gave him a withering look. “That’s only for really challenging rocks, babe. And I am going all of 12? 15? feet up. I’ll be ok. Besides, Diablos will keep the creepy-crawlies away.”(1)
Seifer visibly held back his reply, muting it to only a “Fine! I’ll just have the Curagas ready.”
Zell gave him a saucy wink, easily scampering up the side of the cliff to disappear onto the narrow ledge holding the victim. “OMIFUCK!!!” came the panicked yell from above.
“What?!?” hollered the gunbladist worriedly, angered by his inability to do anything
from the beach. He could feel the prickles of heat racing over his skin, begging to destroy the threat.
“CURAGA!!!” screamed the fighter, then as he prepared to cast again, he drew his pocket knife. “He’s unconscious, but he tied his hair to the roots of the bush so he wouldn’t fall off the cliff!” Working quickly, he sliced through the hair between the scalp and the knots, in some places, shearing quite close to the victim’s skull.
“Shit!” hissed the Sorcerer as he unpacked the stretcher, pausing only momentarily when he heard the Esuna cast. Pacing the deck, he waited impatiently for his Commando to tell him what was needed, cursing himself for letting the fighter go up alone. He could feel the heat prickles beginning to gather and knew he was dangerously close to losing control.
“Ok!” yelled Zell from above, tying off one end of the rope and throwing the other end back to the Sorcerer. “I’ve cut his hair loose from the roots, but I need the stretcher to move him. His legs are only semi-healed from the Curaga. We’re gonna have to sneak him into Garden after dark.”
Seifer glanced about at the gathering gloom. “No problems there,” he muttered to himself as he worked to fulfill his Commando’s orders.
The Commando positioned the stretcher immediately, pausing only to throw the freed rope back down and yell at Seifer to send up the blankets. When the gunbladist was busy searching the lockers, Zell quickly stripped the unconscious form of the Dover. Slowly, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injuries, he shifted the bruised figure onto the stretcher. Halfway through the process, the bloodied body began to moan, waking to his presence at last. Grabbing the fighter’s T shirt, split lips whispered words too quiet to hear.
“S’okay. We’ll get you back to Garden.”
“Nooo!” the weakened figure croaked louder, pulling at him. “Warn … warn him …”
“Warn who?”
“Danger … at Garden …” came the whisper, struggling to hold on to consciousness. “Tell Squall … spy is …” Exhaustion proved to be too much as the bloodied figure lapsed back into unconsciousness.
“Fuck!” hissed the fighter. Woolen blankets came sailing over the ledge, slapping him in the back of the head. Wrapping the unconscious form in blankets, he strapped it to the stretcher and began to lower him to the waiting Sorcerer. As soon as the gunbladist had untied the ropes and took the still form below, Zell removed the ropes topside and cast Firas at the rope-marked root and hair. After they burned completely, he cast Aeros to spread the ashes, then slid down the hillside on the Dover before casting it into the sea.
Making his way below decks, the fighter found the gunbladist pulling out IV packs and supplies. As Seifer continued his medical ministrations, the Commando dug through his personal gear for razor, scissors, and a large plastic bag. Carefully lifting the sniper’s head, he slid the opened bag down past his shoulders.
“Chickie, what the fuck are you doin’?”
“Savin’ the flirt’s ass! Now shut up and let me finish!”
The Sorcerer examined the still form on the gurney for the first time, taking in the long limbs and cropped off auburn hair. “Holy fuck! That’s Irvine!”
“No shit, asshole,” snapped the Commando. “You just now figurin’ that out?!?”
“Um, babe … why are you shavin’ his head? The Cowboy is kinda funny about his hair. Downright girly about it even. You sure that is a good idea?”
“Only thing I can think of to save the shit’s life. You got any better ideas?”
“Huh?”
“Se-Fe, what did Squall send him to do right before we left the Garden for Matron’s?” asked the fighter distractedly as shaved off the last bits of auburn.
“He shipped him off to Galbadia to … oh fuck …”
“Yeah, oh fuck. He woke up for a few seconds and said there was danger at Garden. Do you really think he will survive in this condition if the spy is still there? Doc can’t guard him ’round the clock.”
“But we got to get him to Squall!” exclaimed the bigger blonde, then sighed defeatedly. “We take him to Garden and he’s a sitting duck. We don’t know who the spy is so we don’t know who to protect him from.”
“Or get Squall to him. But not in any way that’ll tip off the spy.” Zell looked at the Sorcerer speculatively, weighing options. “Baby, get your clubbin’ gear!”
“Huh?!?”
****************************************
Half an hour later, Seifer and Zell were dressed for an evening in Deling City and trying to figure out the best way to dress a semi-conscious Irvine. The gunbladist stood coolly in his black leather pants, the matching vest open, showing off his tanned chest and tight six-pack. The fighter rolled his eyes, comfortable in the snug pair of “old” black denims with “worn” spots that let glimpses of tanned flesh and swirls of black ink play peek-a-boo. He had finally stolen his green meshie back from his lover, and the bigger blonde was glad. The way the mesh would occasionally catch on his hardened nipples was keeping the Sorcerer hungry. Licking his lips, he stood back and watched as his Commando began to wrestle a shirt onto the cowboy.
“Why are we doing this again, Chickie?”
“Se-Fe, where is the best place to hide something?” came the exasperated question.
Seifer got a wicked gleam in those brilliant green eyes. “Plain sight,” he said with relish.
“Yep … Irvine, stop that and put your arm through the sleeve. Yes, I know it’s tight, but you look sexy in it.” Immediately, all struggles stopped and the sharpshooter obediently put on the artistically cut up white T shirt that was two sizes too small. “Anyway, I’m sure nobody in Balamb Harbor is gonna think twice about a few drunken SeeDs plowing through town. However, every time you try to sneak through town, someone notices and talks. Trust me. Can’t be done.” He paused as he struggled to start the jeans up the cowboy’s legs. “And when they see it’s me, they won’t think twice about me stayin’ at Ma’s instead of going back to Garden.”
“… And so Cowboy is safe from Garden and the spy. Maybe. But what about your mother, babe?” the gunbladist asked gently. “Won’t this put her in danger?”
“Hyne, you’re cute, Se-Fe. And I love you, babe, but obviously, you’ve never met my mother.” The fighter smiled at the Sorcerer’s snort. “And by the way … you’re driving into the dock.”
********************************************************
As Seifer went to attempt to wash the blood off the Irvine’s boots, Zell put the finishing touches on the cowboy, chewing on his lower lip all the while. He hoped the now bald man won’t kick his ass when he came to his senses. Better yet, he would be able to remove the makeup and be out of range before the sharpshooter came too. Like Shumi Village. Fuck. He was soooo dead.
Carefully applied dark lip liner and lots of gloss made the sniper’s lips look full and pouty. Base covered his dome, hiding the white skin previously hidden by hat and hair. The fighter worked carefully to blend it to the sunburned cheeks. He felt like he was putting on the eye shadow with a paint brush when he extended the deep amethyst powder past the orbital bone to the temple. Clip-on hoop earrings added to the effect. “Where is a bowl of fruit when you need one?” the blonde muttered.(2)
A white T shirt caressed the muscular chest before being cropped off below the cowboy’s pecs, poking out in an asymmetrical fashion. A bare expanse of tanned toned flesh stretched out before disappearing into blue jeans so tight they resembled shrink wrap.
A mischievous look entered the bright blue eyes, downright devious even. Grabbing the scissors he had used earlier, Zell carefully cut a strategic hole around the left nipple allowing the small golden hoop to wink in the fluorescent lights of the assault craft medical bay.
He stepped back and admired his handiwork, adjusting himself as he did so. A larger hand trapped his hand against his groin. Seifer leaned down and whispered in his ear “I saw that, Chickie.”
“Boots clean?”
“Mmmmm. Are you that hot over the Cowboy?” As the fighter blushed, a note of jealousy crept into the bigger blonde voice. “You prefer him?”
Zell spun out of the gunbladist’s light hold and clear electric blue eyes drilled into crystalline emerald green. Placing one hand on his heart and one on Seifer’s, he spoke simply and honestly, echoing the words from months ago. “I am yours, Seifer, as you are mine. I swear to Hyne above that this is so. And I will stand by you, now and forever, against all comers. I will protect you. I love you, Seifer.”
The gunbladist stared deeply into the clear cyan blue, then placed his hands over Zell’s. “I am yours as you are mine. I will stand by you against all. I love you, Zell.” Leaning down, he sealed the vow with a kiss. Gently, tenderly, he nibbled the fighter’s lips. “Thank you, babe. I don’t deserve you,” he whispered as he drew his Commando deeper into his embrace and plundered his mouth.
“Se-Feeeeeeee,” the little blonde moaned as the Sorcerer traced the cords of his throat with his teeth. “Hyne, yessss, I … I want … you to …” He gasped then held his breath as a strong tanned hand opened the button fly and dipped beneath.
“Seifer? Zell?” a husky, dry voice broke through their euphoria, freezing them in place as the bigger blonde gently kneaded his lover. “What … what happened? Where am I?” The sharpshooter looked around blurrily, taking in the scene before him. He coughed and licked his lips, grimacing at the taste of too much lip gloss. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared, shocked at the trail of crimson across the tan.
“What the …” Violet eyes snapped up, fury sparking in the amethyst depths. “What the fuck have you done to me!?!” Irvine sat up and swung his legs off the gurney, biting his lower lip as the too tight jeans pinched tender flesh. Standing up, he adjusted the fabric and took in his surroundings, focusing on the two blondes for the first time. “Ok … I’m in an AC, and y’all are here … but I’m a little confused as to the dress theme of this li’l party. Zell … bud … there something you wanna tell me?”
“Um, Irvine … Se-Fe and I … we’re …”
The cowboy held up a hand, stopping the faltering confession. “S’okay, dude. Whatever blows your skirts up. I wondered what was going on with you two in Squall’s office. But guys, why am I dressed like this?!?” Irvine’s voice began to rise in pitch and volume as the sharpshooter finally took in his total state of dress. “Where are my chaps?! My Dover?! My HAT?!?” In panic, he began looking around the med bay, only to see his reflection in the polished steel and shrieked, “OMIHYNE, WHAT HAVE YOU HEATHENS DONE TO MY HAIR?!?”
TBC
******************************************************
(1) “I have Diablos with me…” = Diablos’ Encounter None ability
(2) “Where is a bowl of fruit…” = Carmen Miranda, Chiquita Banana woman, very colorful dancers with bare midriffs, big earrings, and a ton of fruit on their heads.
Dover: Oiled canvas overcoat
A/N: Sorry about the delay. Between pain meds, surgery, and pain meds, the story wasn’t even coherent. Hopefully I am over the hump now and will be back up to snuff. Moogles and Chocobos will have to be severely fixed too. Thanks for being patient.
RentaiKitten
Lang, M/M, Slash
“Mmmmm,” came the moaning complaint.
“Ok, babe,” the Sorcerer said softly as he kissed his Commando’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything.” Leaving their clothes strewn about the deck, he picked up the fighter and carried him below to the feathered pads he had set up in the cargo area earlier. Carefully laying the martial artist down in the soft mats, he kissed his forehead and tucked him under the quilt. Setting the assault boat’s computer to wake them up 45 minutes out from Balamb Harbor, Seifer crawled into the feather bed, drew his lover close, and smiled. Hyne was in his Heaven, and all was right in Seifer’s World.
_______________________________________________________
Chapter 9:
“…beep … beep … Beep … Beep … Beep … BEEP … BEEP … BEEP …BEE-”
“All right! All Right! We’re awake! Shut the Hynedamned alarm off!”
The ship’s computer turned off the alarm before informing its passengers “Wake up alarm cancelled. Good evening, Instructor Zell Dincht. Good evening, Honorary SeeD Seifer Almasy. Arrival time estimated to be 18:41, Balamb Mean Time. Destination: Balamb Harbor.”
The Great Almasy stretched and watched appreciatively as Zell bounded to his feet and began a few warm up katas. Power flexed, sinews corded, and Seifer was once again awed by the gift he had been given by the martial artist. The smaller blonde could easily break him in half, Sorcerer magic notwithstanding, but chose to let the gunbladist top him, trusting in his partner to give him pleasure, instead of taking it for himself. Never had he judged the bigger blonde’s actions during the Neo-Sorceress War. Never had he turned away in disgust of what he had done in the name of Ultimitia. And most importantly, never had he failed to defend Seifer from the numerous barbs and threats that had come his way. His ever-caring, ever-faithful, ever-accepting Chicken Wuss. No, not Wuss. Never again Wuss. His Commando.
“Se-Fe!”
Zell’s sharp tone brought him back to the present. “Sorry, Babe. Just thinkin’.” The fighter snorted in disbelief and closed his eyes. As Seifer had strengthened his Sorcerer Abilities and Magic over the past couple of months, the martial artist had practiced on the Knightly senses that Squall had shown him. The most important was “Scanning”. Unlike the spell of the same name, the Knight Scan was an area effect, not an individual one. While he couldn’t tell exact HP or weakness within an area, he could ascertain location, number, and general health. This had been vital on the Lenown Plains. Coming face to face with a Jell eye first thing in the morning had been a rude wake up call. A quick Knight Scan made sure there were no surprises.
Seifer snapped to instant awareness as his Commando’s unease increased. “What’s wrong, Baby?” he asked, concerned at the level of the smaller man’s concentration and frustration.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Can you be a lit-tle more specific?”
“Someone’s hurt,” said the fighter abruptly.
“Okaaaayy. Who’s hurt?” the gunbladist asked, carefully watching his lover. “Can you tell where they are? How are they hurt?”
“I don’t know! I can’t get a fix! It’s getting weaker …” The Commando opened his eyes and they blazed with bright blue fire. “Se-Fe! I’ve never felt this before!” He was visibly shaken by his inability to zero in on the person in need.
“Sssshhhh, it’s ok.” The gunbladist gathered him close, reassuring the smaller man. “We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you stop the boat, Mr. Techno Wiz? Then we’ll go up on deck and figure this thing out, together.”
“Ok,” replied the fighter resignedly, then crooked a grin. “And maybe get dressed?”
_________________________________________________
On deck (which had been cleared by the wind and waves of lost clothing), the Commando and the Sorcerer began to Scan for the injured person. After a few minutes of futile effort, Zell cautiously suggested trying to pool their Abilities.
“Think it’ll work?” asked the gunbladist.
“Can’t hurt. Can we try, Se-Fe?”
“Sure, Babe. Whatever you want.” Seifer was thrown by the flash of stark longing shown on the fighter’s features, then it was gone, leaving the bigger blonde wondering what he truly saw.
“Chickie?”
The Commando shook his head, turned, and backed up into the embrace of his Sorcerer. The gunbladist curled an arm around the smaller blonde’s waist and under the oversized T shirt, his fingers tracing the platinum trail of hair that disappeared beneath the denim skaters. “Hold me, Se-Fe. If you can just amp my Power …” Zell closed his eyes again and leaned back into the bigger blonde, drawing on the nearly unlimited Power of his Sorcerer and seeking outside himself like Squall had taught him. With Seifer’s help, he could Scan further. “Ummm, I see the beach, the Harbor, the cliffs, the mountains … wait. Go back. The cliffs, they’re at the cliffs!”
“Good job, Chickie!” the gunbladist’s voice rumbled low and supportively in his ear. “Try to focus in. Whereabouts on the cliffs?” As he encouraged his Commando, Seifer lifted the binoculars with his free hand and began to scan the cliffs the old fashioned way.
“Mmmm,” hummed the fighter unconsciously as he reached further with his Power, homing in on the source of distress. “At … at the base of the cliffs … or maybe a little way up … closer to the mountains than to the Harbor … and it’s a guy … he’s hurt really bad, Se-Fe … he’s poisoned.” Zell drooped in the Sorcerer’s arms. Opening his eyes, Seifer was startled by how the bright cyan was tinged with exhaustion. “Maybe he got poisoned and fell over the cliff?” the Commando asked wearily.
“Maybe. We’ll tell Squall when we hit the Harbor.”
“No way, Se-Fe.” The martial artist’s expression turned downright stubborn. “We gotta get’im. He can’t hold out much longer. And if we go through town, you know we won’t get clear for hours!”
“Well, the assault boat can get close to the cliffs, but I don’t know if we can land it,” the Sorcerer said thoughtfully. “It will depend on the tide level. I’ll break out supplies and essentials while you go drive this hog over to the cliffs. I’ll even guide you in.”
“Ooooh, baby!” teased the smaller man. “Doncha you wanna to drive?”
“I’m always drivin’,” smirked the taller blonde. “But not this wallowing tub.”
____________________________________________________
As it turned out, none of Seifer’s directions were necessary. The depth finders and various external cameras were more than adequate to guide the Commando in, though he did get a thrill of acting as if the Sorcerer was actually helping. Tide was half in, so there was still a strip of sand at the base of the cliffs to ground the assault boat on. By the time the gunbladist finished securing the boat, Zell came bouncing up the stairs from the drive room.
“What’s with the excess gear, Se-Fe?” he asked, only picking up one rope bundle, a string of pitons and carabineers, and a rock hammer.
“Maybe to climb the cliff with, Chickie?!” said the Sorcerer sarcastically.
“Just a waste of time,” argued the stocky little blonde, hopping onto the spit of sand. “I’ve been free climbing these cliffs since I left the orphanage.” He walked back and forth, trying to visualize the best way up the cliff. It was then he saw the marks that someone made attempting to scramble up the craggy rocks where they ended at a ledge a little way up.
“But you haven’t reconned the route!” exclaimed the Sorcerer.
His Commando gave him a withering look. “That’s only for really challenging rocks, babe. And I am going all of 12? 15? feet up. I’ll be ok. Besides, Diablos will keep the creepy-crawlies away.”(1)
Seifer visibly held back his reply, muting it to only a “Fine! I’ll just have the Curagas ready.”
Zell gave him a saucy wink, easily scampering up the side of the cliff to disappear onto the narrow ledge holding the victim. “OMIFUCK!!!” came the panicked yell from above.
“What?!?” hollered the gunbladist worriedly, angered by his inability to do anything
from the beach. He could feel the prickles of heat racing over his skin, begging to destroy the threat.
“CURAGA!!!” screamed the fighter, then as he prepared to cast again, he drew his pocket knife. “He’s unconscious, but he tied his hair to the roots of the bush so he wouldn’t fall off the cliff!” Working quickly, he sliced through the hair between the scalp and the knots, in some places, shearing quite close to the victim’s skull.
“Shit!” hissed the Sorcerer as he unpacked the stretcher, pausing only momentarily when he heard the Esuna cast. Pacing the deck, he waited impatiently for his Commando to tell him what was needed, cursing himself for letting the fighter go up alone. He could feel the heat prickles beginning to gather and knew he was dangerously close to losing control.
“Ok!” yelled Zell from above, tying off one end of the rope and throwing the other end back to the Sorcerer. “I’ve cut his hair loose from the roots, but I need the stretcher to move him. His legs are only semi-healed from the Curaga. We’re gonna have to sneak him into Garden after dark.”
Seifer glanced about at the gathering gloom. “No problems there,” he muttered to himself as he worked to fulfill his Commando’s orders.
The Commando positioned the stretcher immediately, pausing only to throw the freed rope back down and yell at Seifer to send up the blankets. When the gunbladist was busy searching the lockers, Zell quickly stripped the unconscious form of the Dover. Slowly, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injuries, he shifted the bruised figure onto the stretcher. Halfway through the process, the bloodied body began to moan, waking to his presence at last. Grabbing the fighter’s T shirt, split lips whispered words too quiet to hear.
“S’okay. We’ll get you back to Garden.”
“Nooo!” the weakened figure croaked louder, pulling at him. “Warn … warn him …”
“Warn who?”
“Danger … at Garden …” came the whisper, struggling to hold on to consciousness. “Tell Squall … spy is …” Exhaustion proved to be too much as the bloodied figure lapsed back into unconsciousness.
“Fuck!” hissed the fighter. Woolen blankets came sailing over the ledge, slapping him in the back of the head. Wrapping the unconscious form in blankets, he strapped it to the stretcher and began to lower him to the waiting Sorcerer. As soon as the gunbladist had untied the ropes and took the still form below, Zell removed the ropes topside and cast Firas at the rope-marked root and hair. After they burned completely, he cast Aeros to spread the ashes, then slid down the hillside on the Dover before casting it into the sea.
Making his way below decks, the fighter found the gunbladist pulling out IV packs and supplies. As Seifer continued his medical ministrations, the Commando dug through his personal gear for razor, scissors, and a large plastic bag. Carefully lifting the sniper’s head, he slid the opened bag down past his shoulders.
“Chickie, what the fuck are you doin’?”
“Savin’ the flirt’s ass! Now shut up and let me finish!”
The Sorcerer examined the still form on the gurney for the first time, taking in the long limbs and cropped off auburn hair. “Holy fuck! That’s Irvine!”
“No shit, asshole,” snapped the Commando. “You just now figurin’ that out?!?”
“Um, babe … why are you shavin’ his head? The Cowboy is kinda funny about his hair. Downright girly about it even. You sure that is a good idea?”
“Only thing I can think of to save the shit’s life. You got any better ideas?”
“Huh?”
“Se-Fe, what did Squall send him to do right before we left the Garden for Matron’s?” asked the fighter distractedly as shaved off the last bits of auburn.
“He shipped him off to Galbadia to … oh fuck …”
“Yeah, oh fuck. He woke up for a few seconds and said there was danger at Garden. Do you really think he will survive in this condition if the spy is still there? Doc can’t guard him ’round the clock.”
“But we got to get him to Squall!” exclaimed the bigger blonde, then sighed defeatedly. “We take him to Garden and he’s a sitting duck. We don’t know who the spy is so we don’t know who to protect him from.”
“Or get Squall to him. But not in any way that’ll tip off the spy.” Zell looked at the Sorcerer speculatively, weighing options. “Baby, get your clubbin’ gear!”
“Huh?!?”
****************************************
Half an hour later, Seifer and Zell were dressed for an evening in Deling City and trying to figure out the best way to dress a semi-conscious Irvine. The gunbladist stood coolly in his black leather pants, the matching vest open, showing off his tanned chest and tight six-pack. The fighter rolled his eyes, comfortable in the snug pair of “old” black denims with “worn” spots that let glimpses of tanned flesh and swirls of black ink play peek-a-boo. He had finally stolen his green meshie back from his lover, and the bigger blonde was glad. The way the mesh would occasionally catch on his hardened nipples was keeping the Sorcerer hungry. Licking his lips, he stood back and watched as his Commando began to wrestle a shirt onto the cowboy.
“Why are we doing this again, Chickie?”
“Se-Fe, where is the best place to hide something?” came the exasperated question.
Seifer got a wicked gleam in those brilliant green eyes. “Plain sight,” he said with relish.
“Yep … Irvine, stop that and put your arm through the sleeve. Yes, I know it’s tight, but you look sexy in it.” Immediately, all struggles stopped and the sharpshooter obediently put on the artistically cut up white T shirt that was two sizes too small. “Anyway, I’m sure nobody in Balamb Harbor is gonna think twice about a few drunken SeeDs plowing through town. However, every time you try to sneak through town, someone notices and talks. Trust me. Can’t be done.” He paused as he struggled to start the jeans up the cowboy’s legs. “And when they see it’s me, they won’t think twice about me stayin’ at Ma’s instead of going back to Garden.”
“… And so Cowboy is safe from Garden and the spy. Maybe. But what about your mother, babe?” the gunbladist asked gently. “Won’t this put her in danger?”
“Hyne, you’re cute, Se-Fe. And I love you, babe, but obviously, you’ve never met my mother.” The fighter smiled at the Sorcerer’s snort. “And by the way … you’re driving into the dock.”
********************************************************
As Seifer went to attempt to wash the blood off the Irvine’s boots, Zell put the finishing touches on the cowboy, chewing on his lower lip all the while. He hoped the now bald man won’t kick his ass when he came to his senses. Better yet, he would be able to remove the makeup and be out of range before the sharpshooter came too. Like Shumi Village. Fuck. He was soooo dead.
Carefully applied dark lip liner and lots of gloss made the sniper’s lips look full and pouty. Base covered his dome, hiding the white skin previously hidden by hat and hair. The fighter worked carefully to blend it to the sunburned cheeks. He felt like he was putting on the eye shadow with a paint brush when he extended the deep amethyst powder past the orbital bone to the temple. Clip-on hoop earrings added to the effect. “Where is a bowl of fruit when you need one?” the blonde muttered.(2)
A white T shirt caressed the muscular chest before being cropped off below the cowboy’s pecs, poking out in an asymmetrical fashion. A bare expanse of tanned toned flesh stretched out before disappearing into blue jeans so tight they resembled shrink wrap.
A mischievous look entered the bright blue eyes, downright devious even. Grabbing the scissors he had used earlier, Zell carefully cut a strategic hole around the left nipple allowing the small golden hoop to wink in the fluorescent lights of the assault craft medical bay.
He stepped back and admired his handiwork, adjusting himself as he did so. A larger hand trapped his hand against his groin. Seifer leaned down and whispered in his ear “I saw that, Chickie.”
“Boots clean?”
“Mmmmm. Are you that hot over the Cowboy?” As the fighter blushed, a note of jealousy crept into the bigger blonde voice. “You prefer him?”
Zell spun out of the gunbladist’s light hold and clear electric blue eyes drilled into crystalline emerald green. Placing one hand on his heart and one on Seifer’s, he spoke simply and honestly, echoing the words from months ago. “I am yours, Seifer, as you are mine. I swear to Hyne above that this is so. And I will stand by you, now and forever, against all comers. I will protect you. I love you, Seifer.”
The gunbladist stared deeply into the clear cyan blue, then placed his hands over Zell’s. “I am yours as you are mine. I will stand by you against all. I love you, Zell.” Leaning down, he sealed the vow with a kiss. Gently, tenderly, he nibbled the fighter’s lips. “Thank you, babe. I don’t deserve you,” he whispered as he drew his Commando deeper into his embrace and plundered his mouth.
“Se-Feeeeeeee,” the little blonde moaned as the Sorcerer traced the cords of his throat with his teeth. “Hyne, yessss, I … I want … you to …” He gasped then held his breath as a strong tanned hand opened the button fly and dipped beneath.
“Seifer? Zell?” a husky, dry voice broke through their euphoria, freezing them in place as the bigger blonde gently kneaded his lover. “What … what happened? Where am I?” The sharpshooter looked around blurrily, taking in the scene before him. He coughed and licked his lips, grimacing at the taste of too much lip gloss. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared, shocked at the trail of crimson across the tan.
“What the …” Violet eyes snapped up, fury sparking in the amethyst depths. “What the fuck have you done to me!?!” Irvine sat up and swung his legs off the gurney, biting his lower lip as the too tight jeans pinched tender flesh. Standing up, he adjusted the fabric and took in his surroundings, focusing on the two blondes for the first time. “Ok … I’m in an AC, and y’all are here … but I’m a little confused as to the dress theme of this li’l party. Zell … bud … there something you wanna tell me?”
“Um, Irvine … Se-Fe and I … we’re …”
The cowboy held up a hand, stopping the faltering confession. “S’okay, dude. Whatever blows your skirts up. I wondered what was going on with you two in Squall’s office. But guys, why am I dressed like this?!?” Irvine’s voice began to rise in pitch and volume as the sharpshooter finally took in his total state of dress. “Where are my chaps?! My Dover?! My HAT?!?” In panic, he began looking around the med bay, only to see his reflection in the polished steel and shrieked, “OMIHYNE, WHAT HAVE YOU HEATHENS DONE TO MY HAIR?!?”
TBC
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(1) “I have Diablos with me…” = Diablos’ Encounter None ability
(2) “Where is a bowl of fruit…” = Carmen Miranda, Chiquita Banana woman, very colorful dancers with bare midriffs, big earrings, and a ton of fruit on their heads.
Dover: Oiled canvas overcoat
A/N: Sorry about the delay. Between pain meds, surgery, and pain meds, the story wasn’t even coherent. Hopefully I am over the hump now and will be back up to snuff. Moogles and Chocobos will have to be severely fixed too. Thanks for being patient.
RentaiKitten