Love Stinks | By : Pixxit Category: Final Fantasy VIII > General Views: 719 -:- Recommendations : 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. |
***Final Fantasy VIII is the property of Square-Enix and is none of my own, more’s
the pity. I am making no profit from the
writing/posting of this story.
Love Stinks
It was official. Seifer hated
dirt.
After five hours of digging in the mound of dirt that Squall
insisted on calling a garden, Seifer was tired, hot
and more than a little grimy. On four
separate occasions in the past week – and those were merely the ones that Seifer could remember
– Squall had made vague references to the ‘garden’ and would follow up with
a meaningful stare directed at Seifer.
The previous Saturday, Seifer had
been lounging at the kitchen bar, eating his breakfast and reading a motorcycle
magazine when Squall had mentioned the garden and their wedding in the same
sentence. Seifer
had looked up absently, spoon hanging out of his mouth, visions of himself
astride the Ducati Superbike
749 Dark evaporating as he realized that his lover was, again, hinting around
about the garden.
“Huh?” Seifer swiped at
the milk dribbling down his chin and pointedly ignored Squall’s expression of
vague impatience.
“I was just saying
that if we had a garden, we could use it as a backdrop for the pictures.”
Seifer blinked.
“Pictures?”
Squall frowned, a
faint blush already tinting his cheeks.
Initiating discussion about the wedding still embarrassed him,
especially if he suggested something that Seifer
didn’t get right away – it made him feel like a dumb girl planning a prom. “For the wedding.”
His voice was so low
that Seifer had to strain to hear it and as Squall
wrapped his arms around his own waist in a gesture that was purely
self-protective, Seifer knew he’d better tread
carefully. “Oh, the wedding, yeah,
okay.” He nodded slowly, as though he
had absolutely any idea whatsoever as to what Squall was talking about.
He didn’t.
“Did you say you
wanted to get married at Garden? I
thought that we…” Though it was obvious
that Seifer was confused, Squall couldn’t tell if Seifer simply hadn’t been listening or if he was teasing
him. Either option embarrassed Squall
which, in turn, pissed him off. He
flushed darkly.
“Never
mind.”
And with that, he’d turned his back and was half-way out of
the kitchen before Seifer had realized that he’d just
screwed up. Letting the spoon clatter
into the near-empty bowl, he’d abandoned his Ducati
wet dream and hauled ass after his lover, who was as yet a little sensitive and
uncertain when it came to revealing and discussing his feelings.
He’d managed to catch up with Squall before he’d made it out
of the living room and after a little snuggling and a whole lot of sweet kisses
and whispered promises regarding the extent of his excitement and happiness
over the upcoming festivities, Squall had forgiven him. The shy pleasure on his lover’s face had
proved too much for Seifer and, in the end, he’d
ended up back in bed with Squall before he’d had the chance to really even wake
up.
That was the beginning.
That was how Seifer wound up spending a small
fortune in annuals and exotic plants and then bringing them all home to bury in
the dirt just beyond their kitchen patio.
Six hours later, Seifer had
managed to create something that he hoped Squall would deem worthy enough to
serve as a background for their wedding pictures. There were hydrangeas, gardenias, an assortment of lilies and a few scattered rose bushes of
varying color.
Seifer stood, legs a bit shaky,
and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, surveying his handiwork with
no small amount of pride. Lifting his
arm like that, however, immediately reminded him of the amount of time he’d
spent outside getting sweaty and filthy and he decided he had just enough time
to get inside and shower before Squall made it home.
Before he could close the door behind him, however, a horn
sounded in the driveway and he swore under his breath as he backtracked, the
welcome cool of the house a distant memory once the sun’s unforgiving heat beat
down on his back once again.
The truck parked in his driveway afforded him no small
amount of surprise as he hadn’t been expecting the delivery until the weekend,
at the earliest. He’d intended on
surprising Squall with that addition as well, just to show his lover how focused
he truly was on their upcoming wedding and how much it meant to him – even if
he did get sidetracked and absentminded occasionally.
After he’d settled on a location and angle for the delivery
men to work with, he looked up to see Squall’s Torama
pulling into the driveway.
Dammit.
Body language giving nothing of his surprise away, Squall
made his way across the lawn with that loose-limbed, graceful stride that never
failed to make Seifer’s dick hard. He offered his soon to be husband a little
smile and leaned to kiss his lips when he stood alongside him.
Shading his eyes with his hand, Squall watched the delivery
men working. “What’s that?” He licked his lips, savoring the lingering
taste of salt and Seifer.
Seifer offered him a sheepish grin
and tried his very best to look adorable.
“That’s a gazebo.”
Squall hm’d, nodding. “I see.
What’s it for?”
Seifer brushed his knuckles across
Squall’s cheek. “It’s for us. I thought it might be a nice place to marry
the one I love.”
Squall continued to watch the workers, though Seifer did not miss the rare, sweet smile on his lover’s
lips. Finally, he glanced up at Seifer. “You planted
flowers.”
Seifer shrugged. “Meh. My fiancé mentioned something about a garden
a few days ago. I didn’t have anything
to do today, so I thought I’d surprise him.”
Squall nodded again.
“I’m sure he’ll be very surprised.”
Seifer only smiled at him, the
depth of his feelings for the smaller man so easily displayed in just that
simple look. Squall looked up at him for
a long moment and then, silently, pressed himself against Seifer’s
body, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist and resting his cheek
against his chest.
Seifer stroked his back and kissed
the top of his head. “I love you,
squirt.”
Squall smiled against Seifer’s
chest and rubbed his back. “Seifer?”
Seifer grinned, awaiting the
praise and adoration he was certain was forthcoming. “Yeah, baby?”
Squall’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “You stink.”
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