Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Of All the Unlikely Things to Happen	By : lunael55 Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Seifer/Zell Views: 1030 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: don't own Final Fantasy 8 or make profit out of it.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Zell Dincht was not a superstitious man, but at some point during the limousine ride he started thinking the whole mission was cursed. Considering how things kept getting out of hands all the time, it wasn’t a wholly unreasonable conclusion to come to. Ever since they set foot into the damned host club, they’ve been going from one bad surprise to another. Like this whole Seifer fiasco, for instance. Watching Seifer Almasy do karaoke was one thing, but having to pretend to be his gay lover AND being driven back to his place by his overenthusiastic boss? Even setting the score with his ex-bully wasn’t worth getting dragged into this mess. Neither was the free high-tech limousine ride - Cecily’s chatter rather spoiled it for him anyway. But if wasn’t as if he had much of a choice about it now, was it?
Seifer’s place turned out to be one of those huge, fancy Estharian apartment complexes you see so often in decoration magazines since Esthar reopened its borders to the rest of the world. Zell had heard of these before. Their glassy, bare look was just a pretense of simplicity – more often than not, they were equipped with underground parking lots, indoor swimming pools, gardens, convenience stores and private gyms. Not to mention their state of the art security system, which could rival with your average Galbadian prison’s. The tattooed blonde felt his heart sink at the prospect of all the security cameras and identity control check points ahead of them. Of course, Seifer HAD to be living in a gigantic, 30-floor high-tech glass fortress. Anything less would have been unbecoming of him. Pretentious prick.
To make matters worse, Seifer’s boss wouldn’t hear a word about dropping them off at the entrance door. She insisted to see them home properly, and so they had to keep their act up and put up with her high-pitched chatter all the way to the 15^th floor, where the gunblade user’s apartment was located. The thing was, she didn’t seem inclined to stop talking when they reached Seifer’s door either. In fact, she just kept rambling on, not minding in the least that they were in the middle the hallway and that it was past 4 am. Not that Zell was all that surprised – it had been such a phenomenally shitty day that he had kind of expected it anyway. And judging by the resigned patience in the blonde’s eyes, so had Seifer.
To be honest, Zell couldn’t say what the one-sided discussion was all about; he was too baffled by Seifer’s host act to truly attend to Cecily’s rant. And who could blame him? The Seifer he remembered was an arrogant prick who had no patience whatsoever for stupidity or small talk – hell, he could barely manage to be civil most of the time. Yet the man in front of him was behaving every bit like the refined gentleman Quistis’ books were stuffed with. Agreeable, suave, polite. Courteous, even. Zell simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. He guessed you had no choice but to learn to be nice and patient when you catered spoiled old women for a living, but still...
Anyhow, if the way his brain was trying to melt out of his ears with boredom was any indication, Zell obviously didn’t have any future in the hosting business. Hyne, did that woman ever stop to breathe? This constant yapping was intolerable! His Ma had taught him not to be rude, but even he had his limits. Besides, this had nothing to do with their mission - he shouldn’t even be there. Considering it was Seifer’s fault that he got dragged into this mess, Zell felt entirely justified to leave him deal with his boss on his own. And so, using his alleged exhausting train ride as an excuse to withdraw inside the apartment, he bid the club owner goodnight. Cecily fussed a little over him, bid him good night and then resumed talking with her protégé – obviously, it never occurred to her that he might prefer going to bed with his lover to standing in a hallway listening to her chatter. As he took refuge into Seifer’s flat, Zell almost felt bad to leave the man in her clutches. Almost.
Tuning out the muffled sound of Cecily’s high-pitched voice coming through the door, Zell ventured curiously into the apartment. To his surprise, it was rather plain, as far as Estharian lodging goes. It was awfully small, and furnished very simply. Zell honestly didn’t care much for the curvy and glassy look of Estharian furniture, but he had to admit that the place still looked nice, if you went for that sort of light, mellowed look. In the living room, the blonde’s eyes were drawn by the sight of a bookcase filled with a great number of Galbadian detective stories and, oddly enough, cooking books.
Huh. Funny, he would have never thought Seifer was the reading type. Still, he could picture Seifer reading. Cooking? Not so much. Intrigued, Zell picked one of the cooking books from the shelves and skimmed through it, noticing the handmade side notes in the margins with amazement. And those were fancy recipes too – not that the martial artist knew much about cooking, mind you. Growing up in a military university, you pick up a large set of skills, but cooking was not one of them.
As Zell was putting the cooking book back on the shelf, something suddenly brushed against his leg. Looking down, he found a massive cat rubbing against his designer suit and stared. Seifer owned a cat? Seriously? Reading and cooking, he could understand, but a cat? Not a sly, athletic hellthing mind you, or one of those grumpy, haughty things that acted like they owned the place, but an inoffensive and affectionate fat old tabby?
Understanding that the newcomer had no intent to pat him, the cat decided to ignore him and lazily went back to the couch. At the sight of the old tabby crawling back on a patchwork quilt undoubtedly laid there for him, Zell entertained the idea that the apartment was someone else’s - another front Seifer put up for his boss’ sake, of sorts. The picture frames on the living room walls, however, were saying a different tale. There were about a dozen of them and Zell examined them all in wonder, for they each featured Seifer and his two loyal poses, Fuujin and Raijin, and most seemed to have been taken after the war. There was a picture of Seifer and Fuujin showing off a huge catch at Fisherman’s Horizon; on the next one, Seifer’s two poses were standing proudly in front of a snowy country hostel and on another, they were beaming at the camera in full wedding attire. The martial artist wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: these two getting married, Fuujin in a dress, or Fuujin smiling.
He settled for the picture in which Raijin was holding with a goofy smile a white tuff of hair sticking out of a bundle of pink blankets - Raijin and Fuujin having children beat everything else, hands down.
It suddenly dawned on Zell that these were stolen glimpses of very private moments and he felt a bit like a voyeur – even more so that the tall blonde smiling so openly and warmly in these pictures was a stranger to him. Looking away uneasily, he moved on to the kitchen, which was by far the largest room of the apartment – about the size of his Ma’s kitchen. Except that he was sure his Ma did not own half of these kitchen appliances, and the ones she had didn’t look quite as expensive. Zell frowned at the forgotten coffee mug on the counter and the grocery list scribbled hastily on the fridge, next to more pictures of Raijin and Fuujin’s little girl and a couple of child drawings. What looked suspiciously like a batch of home-made croissants was lying neatly on a china plate on the two-seats kitchen table, and drying in the kitchen sink was a clean metal baking sheet, along with just enough dishes and utensils for one bachelor’s meal.
The whole scene was so homely Zell felt a little baffled. It was definitely not the kind of apartment he had imagined the macho extraordinaire Seifer Almasy living in. Or even Cedrik, the fourth most-in-demand host of the prestigious Mandrake Club, for that matter. He had thought the gunblade user would be living in one of those ugly, pragmatic post-modern apartments, or a lavish princely suite, surrounded by the same expensive décor he had seen in his lodge and that fitted so well his shallow and pretentious persona. Either would have made sense. This, however, made absolutely no sense. It was as if the Seifer living here was a completely different person than the arrogant brat he grew up with and the honeyed host he had met with at the Club.
Seifer must had managed to get rid of his boss at some point, as Cecily’s screech suddenly died down. Zell walked back to the entrance, where he found the gunblade user slumping against the door wearily. He looked positively worn out, and Zell sure did not blame him. Dealing with Cecily Hay would do that to people.
“Nice flat,” he commented casually. “Small, but nice. Did you decorate it yourself?”
Seifer looked up sharply and Zell somehow found some of the mist in his head clearing up at the sight of the murderous glint in the man’s eyes. Yup, that was good ol’ Seifer alright. That Seifer, he knew how to deal with.
“You goddamned dirty little piece of shit!” the blonde shouted. “What the fuck did you think you were doing back there?!”
“Getting your sorry, ungrateful ass out of trouble? No need to thank me, by the way.”
“Oh, really? Tell me then, what part of you feeling me up was supposed to be helpful exactly?!”
Zell shrugged defensively, and was more than a little proud to be able to answer that question without the slightest hint of a blush. “Hey, you said to make it convincing.”
“No, I told you to play along.”
“Close enough.”
Seifer looked like he wanted to throttle him, but held back. Taking a long calming breath, he scowled. “Let it not be said that I’m ungrateful, so I suppose I... thank... you for not blowing my cover,” Seifer said with great effort, as if every word pained him.
“Yeah, you damn well should.”
“And since you’re already here, you’ll stay for the night.”
“Wait, thanking me AND offering hospitality? Learned proper manners afterall, didn’t you.”
“I’m not being polite you moron, I’m being sensible. Cecily’s husband owns the stupid place and it wouldn’t do if she saw you leaving on the security cameras so soon, wouldn’t it?” Seifer snapped as he walked past him. “You will sleep on the couch and leave first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll tell Cecily you were called in for a last minute job and had to take the first train for Trabia. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll go take a shower. You will nicely wait for me in the living room. You will not go through my stuff. You will not harass my cat. You will not raid my fridge. Understood?”
“Who d’you take me for, a pre-schooler?” the martial artist huffed.
“You can make macaroni necklaces to spend time if you want,” Seifer sneered. “I’m sure your mother will be pleased you thought to bring her a souvenir from Esthar.”
“Prick,” Zell mumbled under his breath as the blonde disappeared into the bathroom. He waited until he heard the sound of the shower to go back to living room and take out his cell phone. He wasn’t very comfortable with all these new communication devices, but they did have their uses sometimes. He just wished those damned buttons were bigger – it always took him forever to write anything down with these. He was halfway through texting Selphie not to try to take down the whole complex to find him when he received an incoming call. Frowning at the name of the caller, Zell took the call.
“Squall?”
“Zell. I just got a short debriefing with Selphie,” came the commander’s even voice. Always to the point, Zell mused with a dry smirk. “Report on your situation.”
“Well... we’re in Seifer’s flat. He’s taking a shower right now,” Zell explained a bit lamely. Somehow, saying it out loud made it sound even more surreal.
“Have you secured the perimeter?”
“Uh, unless he plans on jumping off from the fifteenth floor through his bathroom window, it’s not really an issue. He didn’t look like he was going to try to make a run for it either. I know it sounds weird, but he’s rather chill ‘bout it all, considering.”
There was small pause. “... Selphie said the same thing.”
“Sorry Squall, but I really should be warning Selphie about this place – the security here is crazy, ‘could probably put to shame the Presidential Pala-”
“There’s no need. I’ve already given her for instruction to carry on with the original mission.”
“You did?” the blonde said, taken aback. “Hum, okay. What about Seifer, then? I mean, he’s been pretty mellow so far, but he doesn’t look that thrilled to go back to B-Garden. I don’t think he’s going to wait around for us to come back and get him.”
“That’s why I’m reassigning you to close surveillance duty until we pick him up.”
Zell froze on the spot. “Whoa, wait! What? You’re asking me to bodyguard Seifer?!”
“Not protection - surveillance. I just want you to follow him around and keep an eye on him.”
“You gotta be kidding me! What about the mission?”
“This is your new mission, Zell. Selphie and Quistis are more than capable to carry out the other assignment on their own. They will be reassigned to help you out afterward.”
Zell didn’t like the sound of that. He was starting to have a very bad feeling about this. “Afterward? What’s that supposed to mean? How long am I supposed to stay here exactly?”
There was an awkward pause. “Given the international situation, we can’t really afford to have him traveling by train through Trabian and Galbadian jurisdictions. The Ragnarok is currently undergoing maintenance repairs. Xu said she would be ready to fly off by next Monday.”
“Monday?! Squall, that’s, like, six days away!” Zell shouted indignantly. “You can’t ask me to stay here and watch over Seifer for a goddamned week!”
“More like five days, given the time zone difference.”
“I don’t give a shit about the time zone difference! This is about me, and Seifer. Hyne forbid we stay in the same room for more than an hour without killing each other! Ask somebody else.”
“Request denied. The way I understand things, you already have a perfect cover-up story for the mission.”
For a moment, Zell was left speechless. Then, he saw red.
“Are you kidding me?! So, what, I’m to stay here and - and pretend to be some fancy host’s gay lover while Quistis and Selphie are out there on the field? You can’t be serious, Squall!”
“Watch your temper-”
“Temper my ass, this is total bullshit! I’m fed up with those stupid missions you give me all the time! Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have to always be stuck with all the lame, girly missions! I’m a goddamned A-rank, first class martial artist, not an escort! I didn’t enroll to go clothes-shopping with rich old hags in Deling, or babysit spoiled brats, or - or play Seifer’s lover! I’m a Seed for fuck’s sake! ”
“Those are my orders so suck it up. I’ll contact you on Saturday to give you a rendez-vous point. Over.” Squall deadpanned, hanging up the line. Indignant, Zell let out a howl of rage and nearly sent the cell phone flying to the wall.
This was a disaster. He knew Squall was his commanding officer and all, but that just went too far. As if the whole mission hadn’t been shitty enough already, now he was stuck here with Seifer. Worse, he had to pretend to be the gunblader’s lover in front of Cecily and the rest of that goddamned club’s patrons to keep his cover up. For five whole days. Five days! Dear Hyne, how was he supposed to pull that off? Of course he couldn’t pull it off, what was Squall thinking?
Shaking his head, Zell suddenly realized Seifer was staring at him from the doorway. And judging by the grim expression on his face, it didn’t take much of a genius to figure out he had overheard much of the exchange, if he hadn’t witnessed part of it. Zell groaned softly. Great. Just Great. Couldn't get any better.

"I take it you've heard that."

"The part about you being gay or the part about me having to cope with you for the rest of the week?" Seifer dead-panned. “Because I kinda had worked the first part out on my own already.”

"Look, I'm not happy about it either, okay?" Zell shot back crossly.
“So that should make us friends then? We should, what, bond over it? So glad to know. I feel better about it already.”

The martial artist groaned and rubbed his eyes wearily. It was close to 4:30 a.m. and he'd had a spectacularly crappy day. At this point, all he wanted was to get out of these ridiculous clothes, take a long hot shower and collapse on the closest thing to a bed he could find. Picking up a fight with Seifer Almasy was definitely nowhere near the top of that list.

"Listen. This situation already sucks and there's nothing either of us can do 'bout it, so can we, like, agree to be civil to each other until Monday? I'll just sleep on the couch, pretend to be your lover in public and try to not get in the way if you don’t make the next few days a living hell for me. How does that sound?"
Scowling, the gunblade user considered him for a while. Zell stared back at him levelly, waiting for him to make up his mind, whatever this was about – Hyne preserved him from ever finding out what went on in his ex-bully’s head anyway.
“Fine,” Seifer eventually said. “But if you’re going to live here and follow me around, we have to set a few ground rules first.”
“Sounds reasonable,” the martial artist agreed cautiously.
“First, you don’t pull that molesting shit on me. Ever. Again. Got it?”
Zell scoffed. “Didn’t plan to.”
“Secondly, you gotta keep the silent boyfriend act up when we are outside the apartment, at all times – especially in public. Thirdly, you don’t get to follow me when I’m working with clients.”
“Only if I get to monitor you on the floor.”
“From backstage,” Seifer countered.
“No, I’m on the floor or we don’t have a deal.”
“Fine, as long as you don’t tag along to closely.”
“That works for me. Are you done now?”
“One more thing. You don’t go through my stuff behind my back or ask nosy questions about me or about my life. No sneaking around my drawlers, no going through my phone book or computer, no tapping my phone line, no going through my bills. And above all, you stay out of my kitchen. Is that clear?”
“Cristal. Okay then, my turn. If I’m to follow your rules, I get to set a few of my own too.”
Seifer crossed his arms defiantly. “Fair enough.”
“First, you don’t try to give me the slip. Ever.” The gunblade user rolled his eyes.
“If I was planning to make a run for it, I would have done so back at the Club. I thought we’d established that already.”
“Seconds, no stupid nicknames or petnames. No cutie pie, no snookums, no honey buns, no cupcake, no pookie bear, and above all, no chicken-wuss.”
Seifer snorted. “Still upset about whole nickname thing, Dincht?”
“You got to set your rules, I get to set mine,” Zell countered defiantly. “Besides that goes both way: you don’t get to call me ‘binky kinkie’, and I don’t get to call you ‘snuggle bear’ or ‘snoochie boochie’.”
Seifer grimaced. “Point taken. But if we’re going to pass for a gay couple, we need to pick at least one petname, like it or not.”
“Fine,” Zell sighed. “But let’s agree on something that’s not too embarrassing, like ‘darling’ or ‘sugar’. Selphie is never going to let me live it down if she hears me calling you ‘pudding pie’ or some other stupid girly nickname.”
“I’m not calling you sugar; darling it is. Anything else?”
“We play nice. I won’t make things difficult for you if you don’t make things difficult for me. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Great,” Zell breathed with relief. Maybe this whole mission wouldn’t be so bad, afterall. “I’m glad we got to an understanding.”
“Right. Whatever makes you sleep at night. Speaking of which, you’re not sleeping on that couch.”
Zell paused, considering the other man cautiously. “Oooo-kay. Where would you have me sleep, then? I don’t suppose you have a guest room or something?”
Seifer snorted and lead him into a small bedroom. “Dincht, have you seen the price of Estharian lodging lately? The pay at the Club is good, but not that good. I’m afraid we’ll have to share the bed.”
Zell froze on the threshold and gaped unbelievingly at the double bed Seifer was pointing. Surely, he couldn’t be serious – it had to be a joke the blonde was pulling on him, a payback of some sort for his previous groping session. When Seifer ignored him and started fumbling through his dresser, the martial artist began to feel a little panic-stricken.
“You’re kidding, right? I mean,” Zell countered with a small nervous laugh, “you can’t be real about, hum, having us both—you know- in that bed. Together. Right?”
Seifer turned around and raised an amused eyebrow at the slightly distressed note in the martial artist’s voice. “What’s the matter, Dincht? Last I remember, you didn’t seem all that averse to a little body contact.”
Oh, wasn’t that just rich. Count on Seifer to turn something like this to his advantage and find a way to tease him about it. “You’re just being a prick on purpose,” he hissed. “I thought we agreed we’d try to be civil.”
“Sorry to disappoint Dincht, but I’m not ‘being a prick’, I’m being practical. You’re not going to get any sleep on that couch. It’s the cat’s, and he doesn’t do sharing well. And before you start imagining things, I’m *not* offering to share my bed with you out of kindness, I’m just saving myself some trouble. If I have to put up with you tomorrow, I’d rather you not be grouchy and sleep-deprived.”
“I don’t give a shit about it, I’m not sleeping in your goddamn bed!”
Rolling his eyes, Seifer focused his attention back to the dresser. “Will you stop making a fuss already? It’s a double bed: if we’re both a little careful, there’ll plenty of room for the two of us. I promise I’ll be a good boy and keep my hands - and other fleshy bits - to myself, if it can make you feel better about it.”
Huffing, Zell crossed his arms. “Shouldn’t you be the one worried about getting molested here?”
The gunblade user turned around and eyed Zell speculatively. “Should I?”
There was something smooth and carnal and undeniably predatory in the way he said those two words, and martial artist faltered and started sputtering.
Snorting, Seifer gave him a pitying look. “Don’t get your hopes up, Dincht. I’d sooner make a pass at a Shumi. Here,” he added, dumping a pair of boxers, a T-shirt and jogging pants in the baffled martial artist’s arms, “These are the smallest I’ve got. You know where the bathroom is: towels are on the second shelf on your right. Make sure to close the bedroom door behind you.”
Pulling himself together with a start, Zell blushed bright red with embarrassment and glared. “You are such a-a-!”
“A charming, handsome and quick-witted fellow?”
“An arrogant, annoying dickhead!”
“I thought we were supposed to be civil to one another?” The gunblader had the gall to smirk! That bastard was finding it amusing!
“You’re the one who started it, asshole!” Zell bristled. “With your flirting bullshit and stuff!”
“Well if I had known you would react like a scared virgin I wouldn’t have teased you in the first place.”
“WHAT!”
“Stop screeching and just go get your shower or come to bed already,” Seifer said as he settled under the covers.
“There’s no way I’m sleeping with you in that bed!”
“Fine, have it your way,” came the muffled reply, and Zell thought he heard him mumble something that sounded awfully like “pig-headed” and “moron”. The martial artist huffed, but still turned off the light and closed the bedroom door behind him, as instructed. His Ma hadn’t raised him to be a bad guest, even if his host was the biggest jerkface on the face of heart. What a prick.
Now standing alone in the small hallway, Zell eyed the bathroom indecisively. The appeal of a warm shower was very strong, but Seifer had agreed to his terms too quickly to his likings. What if it was a ruse to lure him into a false sense of security? The blonde may just be waiting for the right occasion to slip away. Chances were he wouldn’t notice the gunblade user escaping while he was taking his shower. Or even more so during the night, if he slept on that couch. Perhaps he should spend the first night up, just in case? Or put his pride aside and accept Seifer’s offer to share his bed-
Oh no, he was *not* going down that path. This was only a surveillance gig – he was there to keep an eye on the man, not to stop him from leaving the city at all costs. Besides, the Ragnarok wouldn’t come to pick them up before Monday, and nobody in their right mind could expect a single-man team to watch over a target for five days non-stop. If the gunblade user somehow managed to get away because Squall did not see fit to allocate enough resources to him to complete the mission, he could hardly be blamed now, could he? Anyhow, Seifer had given him his word, so he would have to trust him. He didn’t like it, but he had little other choice anyway.
Sighing, the martial artist decided to let the matter drop and went to the bathroom. He was immediately pleased with it. Though small, it was very functional and brightly-lit, with a surprisingly large ceramic shower. It made for a nice contrast with his own private bathroom, which looked like a wardrobe into which someone tried to cram a sink, a toilet and a shower. At least, he thought to himself, this mission does have some advantages. Locking the door behind him, the martial artist stepped out of his wretched suit at last and stepped under the shower. The water was deliciously warm, and Zell sighed happily as it poured on him.
He was half-way through washing up when it occurred to him that he was using Seifer’s soap and he came to a halt. He didn’t like the thought of smelling like the ex-bully, but he had to admit the soap Seifer used smelled rather nice – like pine tree and cedar wood. Now that he thought about it, he also remembered there had been undertones of pine in the man’s cologne, back when they both had been sitting on that couch in the lounge...
Much to his surprise, he found his groin stirring that the memory and hastily scrubbed the rest of his body to chase the sensation away. Where the hell was that coming from? Was he so desperate to get laid that even Seifer had become appealing to him? He scoffed at the idea, but felt his uneasiness grow nonetheless. He hadn’t felt the least repealed either when he had run his hand along the gunblade user’s tight...
Frowning, he scrubbed harder.
His tiredness finally catching up with him, Zell made short work of washing himself and put on Seifer’s spare clothes, which were predictably a good size too big for him, but were otherwise alright. He took the spare comforter he found in Seifer’s cabinet back with him to the couch, where he eyed the cat blandly. Purring, the tabby gazed at Zell with placid, oily eyes.
“You’re the fattest, ugliest cat I’ve ever seen.”
Zell Dincht was not a superstitious man, but at some point during the limousine ride he started thinking the whole mission was cursed. Considering how things kept getting out of hands all the time, it wasn’t a wholly unreasonable conclusion to come to. Ever since they set foot into the damned host club, they’ve been going from one bad surprise to another. Like this whole Seifer fiasco, for instance. Watching Seifer Almasy do karaoke was one thing, but having to pretend to be his gay lover AND being driven back to his place by his overenthusiastic boss? Even setting the score with his ex-bully wasn’t worth getting dragged into this mess. Neither was the free high-tech limousine ride - Cecily’s chatter rather spoiled it for him anyway. But if wasn’t as if he had much of a choice about it now, was it?
Seifer’s place turned out to be one of those huge, fancy Estharian apartment complexes you see so often in decoration magazines since Esthar reopened its borders to the rest of the world. Zell had heard of these before. Their glassy, bare look was just a pretense of simplicity – more often than not, they were equipped with underground parking lots, indoor swimming pools, gardens, convenience stores and private gyms. Not to mention their state of the art security system, which could rival with your average Galbadian prison’s. The tattooed blonde felt his heart sink at the prospect of all the security cameras and identity control check points ahead of them. Of course, Seifer HAD to be living in a gigantic, 30-floor high-tech glass fortress. Anything less would have been unbecoming of him. Pretentious prick.
To make matters worse, Seifer’s boss wouldn’t hear a word about dropping them off at the entrance door. She insisted to see them home properly, and so they had to keep their act up and put up with her high-pitched chatter all the way to the 15^th floor, where the gunblade user’s apartment was located. The thing was, she didn’t seem inclined to stop talking when they reached Seifer’s door either. In fact, she just kept rambling on, not minding in the least that they were in the middle the hallway and that it was past 4 am. Not that Zell was all that surprised – it had been such a phenomenally shitty day that he had kind of expected it anyway. And judging by the resigned patience in the blonde’s eyes, so had Seifer.
To be honest, Zell couldn’t say what the one-sided discussion was all about; he was too baffled by Seifer’s host act to truly attend to Cecily’s rant. And who could blame him? The Seifer he remembered was an arrogant prick who had no patience whatsoever for stupidity or small talk – hell, he could barely manage to be civil most of the time. Yet the man in front of him was behaving every bit like the refined gentleman Quistis’ books were stuffed with. Agreeable, suave, polite. Courteous, even. Zell simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. He guessed you had no choice but to learn to be nice and patient when you catered spoiled old women for a living, but still...
Anyhow, if the way his brain was trying to melt out of his ears with boredom was any indication, Zell obviously didn’t have any future in the hosting business. Hyne, did that woman ever stop to breathe? This constant yapping was intolerable! His Ma had taught him not to be rude, but even he had his limits. Besides, this had nothing to do with their mission - he shouldn’t even be there. Considering it was Seifer’s fault that he got dragged into this mess, Zell felt entirely justified to leave him deal with his boss on his own. And so, using his alleged exhausting train ride as an excuse to withdraw inside the apartment, he bid the club owner goodnight. Cecily fussed a little over him, bid him good night and then resumed talking with her protégé – obviously, it never occurred to her that he might prefer going to bed with his lover to standing in a hallway listening to her chatter. As he took refuge into Seifer’s flat, Zell almost felt bad to leave the man in her clutches. Almost.
Tuning out the muffled sound of Cecily’s high-pitched voice coming through the door, Zell ventured curiously into the apartment. To his surprise, it was rather plain, as far as Estharian lodging goes. It was awfully small, and furnished very simply. Zell honestly didn’t care much for the curvy and glassy look of Estharian furniture, but he had to admit that the place still looked nice, if you went for that sort of light, mellowed look. In the living room, the blonde’s eyes were drawn by the sight of a bookcase filled with a great number of Galbadian detective stories and, oddly enough, cooking books.
Huh. Funny, he would have never thought Seifer was the reading type. Still, he could picture Seifer reading. Cooking? Not so much. Intrigued, Zell picked one of the cooking books from the shelves and skimmed through it, noticing the handmade side notes in the margins with amazement. And those were fancy recipes too – not that the martial artist knew much about cooking, mind you. Growing up in a military university, you pick up a large set of skills, but cooking was not one of them.
As Zell was putting the cooking book back on the shelf, something suddenly brushed against his leg. Looking down, he found a massive cat rubbing against his designer suit and stared. Seifer owned a cat? Seriously? Reading and cooking, he could understand, but a cat? Not a sly, athletic hellthing mind you, or one of those grumpy, haughty things that acted like they owned the place, but an inoffensive and affectionate fat old tabby?
Understanding that the newcomer had no intent to pat him, the cat decided to ignore him and lazily went back to the couch. At the sight of the old tabby crawling back on a patchwork quilt undoubtedly laid there for him, Zell entertained the idea that the apartment was someone else’s - another front Seifer put up for his boss’ sake, of sorts. The picture frames on the living room walls, however, were saying a different tale. There were about a dozen of them and Zell examined them all in wonder, for they each featured Seifer and his two loyal poses, Fuujin and Raijin, and most seemed to have been taken after the war. There was a picture of Seifer and Fuujin showing off a huge catch at Fisherman’s Horizon; on the next one, Seifer’s two poses were standing proudly in front of a snowy country hostel and on another, they were beaming at the camera in full wedding attire. The martial artist wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: these two getting married, Fuujin in a dress, or Fuujin smiling.
He settled for the picture in which Raijin was holding with a goofy smile a white tuff of hair sticking out of a bundle of pink blankets - Raijin and Fuujin having children beat everything else, hands down.
It suddenly dawned on Zell that these were stolen glimpses of very private moments and he felt a bit like a voyeur – even more so that the tall blonde smiling so openly and warmly in these pictures was a stranger to him. Looking away uneasily, he moved on to the kitchen, which was by far the largest room of the apartment – about the size of his Ma’s kitchen. Except that he was sure his Ma did not own half of these kitchen appliances, and the ones she had didn’t look quite as expensive. Zell frowned at the forgotten coffee mug on the counter and the grocery list scribbled hastily on the fridge, next to more pictures of Raijin and Fuujin’s little girl and a couple of child drawings. What looked suspiciously like a batch of home-made croissants was lying neatly on a china plate on the two-seats kitchen table, and drying in the kitchen sink was a clean metal baking sheet, along with just enough dishes and utensils for one bachelor’s meal.
The whole scene was so homely Zell felt a little baffled. It was definitely not the kind of apartment he had imagined the macho extraordinaire Seifer Almasy living in. Or even Cedrik, the fourth most-in-demand host of the prestigious Mandrake Club, for that matter. He had thought the gunblade user would be living in one of those ugly, pragmatic post-modern apartments, or a lavish princely suite, surrounded by the same expensive décor he had seen in his lodge and that fitted so well his shallow and pretentious persona. Either would have made sense. This, however, made absolutely no sense. It was as if the Seifer living here was a completely different person than the arrogant brat he grew up with and the honeyed host he had met with at the Club.
Seifer must had managed to get rid of his boss at some point, as Cecily’s screech suddenly died down. Zell walked back to the entrance, where he found the gunblade user slumping against the door wearily. He looked positively worn out, and Zell sure did not blame him. Dealing with Cecily Hay would do that to people.
“Nice flat,” he commented casually. “Small, but nice. Did you decorate it yourself?”
Seifer looked up sharply and Zell somehow found some of the mist in his head clearing up at the sight of the murderous glint in the man’s eyes. Yup, that was good ol’ Seifer alright. That Seifer, he knew how to deal with.
“You goddamned dirty little piece of shit!” the blonde shouted. “What the fuck did you think you were doing back there?!”
“Getting your sorry, ungrateful ass out of trouble? No need to thank me, by the way.”
“Oh, really? Tell me then, what part of you feeling me up was supposed to be helpful exactly?!”
Zell shrugged defensively, and was more than a little proud to be able to answer that question without the slightest hint of a blush. “Hey, you said to make it convincing.”
“No, I told you to play along.”
“Close enough.”
Seifer looked like he wanted to throttle him, but held back. Taking a long calming breath, he scowled. “Let it not be said that I’m ungrateful, so I suppose I... thank... you for not blowing my cover,” Seifer said with great effort, as if every word pained him.
“Yeah, you damn well should.”
“And since you’re already here, you’ll stay for the night.”
“Wait, thanking me AND offering hospitality? Learned proper manners afterall, didn’t you.”
“I’m not being polite you moron, I’m being sensible. Cecily’s husband owns the stupid place and it wouldn’t do if she saw you leaving on the security cameras so soon, wouldn’t it?” Seifer snapped as he walked past him. “You will sleep on the couch and leave first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll tell Cecily you were called in for a last minute job and had to take the first train for Trabia. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll go take a shower. You will nicely wait for me in the living room. You will not go through my stuff. You will not harass my cat. You will not raid my fridge. Understood?”
“Who d’you take me for, a pre-schooler?” the martial artist huffed.
“You can make macaroni necklaces to spend time if you want,” Seifer sneered. “I’m sure your mother will be pleased you thought to bring her a souvenir from Esthar.”
“Prick,” Zell mumbled under his breath as the blonde disappeared into the bathroom. He waited until he heard the sound of the shower to go back to living room and take out his cell phone. He wasn’t very comfortable with all these new communication devices, but they did have their uses sometimes. He just wished those damned buttons were bigger – it always took him forever to write anything down with these. He was halfway through texting Selphie not to try to take down the whole complex to find him when he received an incoming call. Frowning at the name of the caller, Zell took the call.
“Squall?”
“Zell. I just got a short debriefing with Selphie,” came the commander’s even voice. Always to the point, Zell mused with a dry smirk. “Report on your situation.”
“Well... we’re in Seifer’s flat. He’s taking a shower right now,” Zell explained a bit lamely. Somehow, saying it out loud made it sound even more surreal.
“Have you secured the perimeter?”
“Uh, unless he plans on jumping off from the fifteenth floor through his bathroom window, it’s not really an issue. He didn’t look like he was going to try to make a run for it either. I know it sounds weird, but he’s rather chill ‘bout it all, considering.”
There was small pause. “... Selphie said the same thing.”
“Sorry Squall, but I really should be warning Selphie about this place – the security here is crazy, ‘could probably put to shame the Presidential Pala-”
“There’s no need. I’ve already given her for instruction to carry on with the original mission.”
“You did?” the blonde said, taken aback. “Hum, okay. What about Seifer, then? I mean, he’s been pretty mellow so far, but he doesn’t look that thrilled to go back to B-Garden. I don’t think he’s going to wait around for us to come back and get him.”
“That’s why I’m reassigning you to close surveillance duty until we pick him up.”
Zell froze on the spot. “Whoa, wait! What? You’re asking me to bodyguard Seifer?!”
“Not protection - surveillance. I just want you to follow him around and keep an eye on him.”
“You gotta be kidding me! What about the mission?”
“This is your new mission, Zell. Selphie and Quistis are more than capable to carry out the other assignment on their own. They will be reassigned to help you out afterward.”
Zell didn’t like the sound of that. He was starting to have a very bad feeling about this. “Afterward? What’s that supposed to mean? How long am I supposed to stay here exactly?”
There was an awkward pause. “Given the international situation, we can’t really afford to have him traveling by train through Trabian and Galbadian jurisdictions. The Ragnarok is currently undergoing maintenance repairs. Xu said she would be ready to fly off by next Monday.”
“Monday?! Squall, that’s, like, six days away!” Zell shouted indignantly. “You can’t ask me to stay here and watch over Seifer for a goddamned week!”
“More like five days, given the time zone difference.”
“I don’t give a shit about the time zone difference! This is about me, and Seifer. Hyne forbid we stay in the same room for more than an hour without killing each other! Ask somebody else.”
“Request denied. The way I understand things, you already have a perfect cover-up story for the mission.”
For a moment, Zell was left speechless. Then, he saw red.
“Are you kidding me?! So, what, I’m to stay here and - and pretend to be some fancy host’s gay lover while Quistis and Selphie are out there on the field? You can’t be serious, Squall!”
“Watch your temper-”
“Temper my ass, this is total bullshit! I’m fed up with those stupid missions you give me all the time! Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have to always be stuck with all the lame, girly missions! I’m a goddamned A-rank, first class martial artist, not an escort! I didn’t enroll to go clothes-shopping with rich old hags in Deling, or babysit spoiled brats, or - or play Seifer’s lover! I’m a Seed for fuck’s sake! ”
“Those are my orders so suck it up. I’ll contact you on Saturday to give you a rendez-vous point. Over.” Squall deadpanned, hanging up the line. Indignant, Zell let out a howl of rage and nearly sent the cell phone flying to the wall.
This was a disaster. He knew Squall was his commanding officer and all, but that just went too far. As if the whole mission hadn’t been shitty enough already, now he was stuck here with Seifer. Worse, he had to pretend to be the gunblader’s lover in front of Cecily and the rest of that goddamned club’s patrons to keep his cover up. For five whole days. Five days! Dear Hyne, how was he supposed to pull that off? Of course he couldn’t pull it off, what was Squall thinking?
Shaking his head, Zell suddenly realized Seifer was staring at him from the doorway. And judging by the grim expression on his face, it didn’t take much of a genius to figure out he had overheard much of the exchange, if he hadn’t witnessed part of it. Zell groaned softly. Great. Just Great. Couldn't get any better.

"I take it you've heard that."

"The part about you being gay or the part about me having to cope with you for the rest of the week?" Seifer dead-panned. “Because I kinda had worked the first part out on my own already.”

"Look, I'm not happy about it either, okay?" Zell shot back crossly.
“So that should make us friends then? We should, what, bond over it? So glad to know. I feel better about it already.”

The martial artist groaned and rubbed his eyes wearily. It was close to 4:30 a.m. and he'd had a spectacularly crappy day. At this point, all he wanted was to get out of these ridiculous clothes, take a long hot shower and collapse on the closest thing to a bed he could find. Picking up a fight with Seifer Almasy was definitely nowhere near the top of that list.

"Listen. This situation already sucks and there's nothing either of us can do 'bout it, so can we, like, agree to be civil to each other until Monday? I'll just sleep on the couch, pretend to be your lover in public and try to not get in the way if you don’t make the next few days a living hell for me. How does that sound?"
Scowling, the gunblade user considered him for a while. Zell stared back at him levelly, waiting for him to make up his mind, whatever this was about – Hyne preserved him from ever finding out what went on in his ex-bully’s head anyway.
“Fine,” Seifer eventually said. “But if you’re going to live here and follow me around, we have to set a few ground rules first.”
“Sounds reasonable,” the martial artist agreed cautiously.
“First, you don’t pull that molesting shit on me. Ever. Again. Got it?”
Zell scoffed. “Didn’t plan to.”
“Secondly, you gotta keep the silent boyfriend act up when we are outside the apartment, at all times – especially in public. Thirdly, you don’t get to follow me when I’m working with clients.”
“Only if I get to monitor you on the floor.”
“From backstage,” Seifer countered.
“No, I’m on the floor or we don’t have a deal.”
“Fine, as long as you don’t tag along to closely.”
“That works for me. Are you done now?”
“One more thing. You don’t go through my stuff behind my back or ask nosy questions about me or about my life. No sneaking around my drawlers, no going through my phone book or computer, no tapping my phone line, no going through my bills. And above all, you stay out of my kitchen. Is that clear?”
“Cristal. Okay then, my turn. If I’m to follow your rules, I get to set a few of my own too.”
Seifer crossed his arms defiantly. “Fair enough.”
“First, you don’t try to give me the slip. Ever.” The gunblade user rolled his eyes.
“If I was planning to make a run for it, I would have done so back at the Club. I thought we’d established that already.”
“Seconds, no stupid nicknames or petnames. No cutie pie, no snookums, no honey buns, no cupcake, no pookie bear, and above all, no chicken-wuss.”
Seifer snorted. “Still upset about whole nickname thing, Dincht?”
“You got to set your rules, I get to set mine,” Zell countered defiantly. “Besides that goes both way: you don’t get to call me ‘binky kinkie’, and I don’t get to call you ‘snuggle bear’ or ‘snoochie boochie’.”
Seifer grimaced. “Point taken. But if we’re going to pass for a gay couple, we need to pick at least one petname, like it or not.”
“Fine,” Zell sighed. “But let’s agree on something that’s not too embarrassing, like ‘darling’ or ‘sugar’. Selphie is never going to let me live it down if she hears me calling you ‘pudding pie’ or some other stupid girly nickname.”
“I’m not calling you sugar; darling it is. Anything else?”
“We play nice. I won’t make things difficult for you if you don’t make things difficult for me. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Great,” Zell breathed with relief. Maybe this whole mission wouldn’t be so bad, afterall. “I’m glad we got to an understanding.”
“Right. Whatever makes you sleep at night. Speaking of which, you’re not sleeping on that couch.”
Zell paused, considering the other man cautiously. “Oooo-kay. Where would you have me sleep, then? I don’t suppose you have a guest room or something?”
Seifer snorted and lead him into a small bedroom. “Dincht, have you seen the price of Estharian lodging lately? The pay at the Club is good, but not that good. I’m afraid we’ll have to share the bed.”
Zell froze on the threshold and gaped unbelievingly at the double bed Seifer was pointing. Surely, he couldn’t be serious – it had to be a joke the blonde was pulling on him, a payback of some sort for his previous groping session. When Seifer ignored him and started fumbling through his dresser, the martial artist began to feel a little panic-stricken.
“You’re kidding, right? I mean,” Zell countered with a small nervous laugh, “you can’t be real about, hum, having us both—you know- in that bed. Together. Right?”
Seifer turned around and raised an amused eyebrow at the slightly distressed note in the martial artist’s voice. “What’s the matter, Dincht? Last I remember, you didn’t seem all that averse to a little body contact.”
Oh, wasn’t that just rich. Count on Seifer to turn something like this to his advantage and find a way to tease him about it. “You’re just being a prick on purpose,” he hissed. “I thought we agreed we’d try to be civil.”
“Sorry to disappoint Dincht, but I’m not ‘being a prick’, I’m being practical. You’re not going to get any sleep on that couch. It’s the cat’s, and he doesn’t do sharing well. And before you start imagining things, I’m *not* offering to share my bed with you out of kindness, I’m just saving myself some trouble. If I have to put up with you tomorrow, I’d rather you not be grouchy and sleep-deprived.”
“I don’t give a shit about it, I’m not sleeping in your goddamn bed!”
Rolling his eyes, Seifer focused his attention back to the dresser. “Will you stop making a fuss already? It’s a double bed: if we’re both a little careful, there’ll plenty of room for the two of us. I promise I’ll be a good boy and keep my hands - and other fleshy bits - to myself, if it can make you feel better about it.”
Huffing, Zell crossed his arms. “Shouldn’t you be the one worried about getting molested here?”
The gunblade user turned around and eyed Zell speculatively. “Should I?”
There was something smooth and carnal and undeniably predatory in the way he said those two words, and martial artist faltered and started sputtering.
Snorting, Seifer gave him a pitying look. “Don’t get your hopes up, Dincht. I’d sooner make a pass at a Shumi. Here,” he added, dumping a pair of boxers, a T-shirt and jogging pants in the baffled martial artist’s arms, “These are the smallest I’ve got. You know where the bathroom is: towels are on the second shelf on your right. Make sure to close the bedroom door behind you.”
Pulling himself together with a start, Zell blushed bright red with embarrassment and glared. “You are such a-a-!”
“A charming, handsome and quick-witted fellow?”
“An arrogant, annoying dickhead!”
“I thought we were supposed to be civil to one another?” The gunblader had the gall to smirk! That bastard was finding it amusing!
“You’re the one who started it, asshole!” Zell bristled. “With your flirting bullshit and stuff!”
“Well if I had known you would react like a scared virgin I wouldn’t have teased you in the first place.”
“WHAT!”
“Stop screeching and just go get your shower or come to bed already,” Seifer said as he settled under the covers.
“There’s no way I’m sleeping with you in that bed!”
“Fine, have it your way,” came the muffled reply, and Zell thought he heard him mumble something that sounded awfully like “pig-headed” and “moron”. The martial artist huffed, but still turned off the light and closed the bedroom door behind him, as instructed. His Ma hadn’t raised him to be a bad guest, even if his host was the biggest jerkface on the face of heart. What a prick.
Now standing alone in the small hallway, Zell eyed the bathroom indecisively. The appeal of a warm shower was very strong, but Seifer had agreed to his terms too quickly to his likings. What if it was a ruse to lure him into a false sense of security? The blonde may just be waiting for the right occasion to slip away. Chances were he wouldn’t notice the gunblade user escaping while he was taking his shower. Or even more so during the night, if he slept on that couch. Perhaps he should spend the first night up, just in case? Or put his pride aside and accept Seifer’s offer to share his bed-
Oh no, he was *not* going down that path. This was only a surveillance gig – he was there to keep an eye on the man, not to stop him from leaving the city at all costs. Besides, the Ragnarok wouldn’t come to pick them up before Monday, and nobody in their right mind could expect a single-man team to watch over a target for five days non-stop. If the gunblade user somehow managed to get away because Squall did not see fit to allocate enough resources to him to complete the mission, he could hardly be blamed now, could he? Anyhow, Seifer had given him his word, so he would have to trust him. He didn’t like it, but he had little other choice anyway.
Sighing, the martial artist decided to let the matter drop and went to the bathroom. He was immediately pleased with it. Though small, it was very functional and brightly-lit, with a surprisingly large ceramic shower. It made for a nice contrast with his own private bathroom, which looked like a wardrobe into which someone tried to cram a sink, a toilet and a shower. At least, he thought to himself, this mission does have some advantages. Locking the door behind him, the martial artist stepped out of his wretched suit at last and stepped under the shower. The water was deliciously warm, and Zell sighed happily as it poured on him.
He was half-way through washing up when it occurred to him that he was using Seifer’s soap and he came to a halt. He didn’t like the thought of smelling like the ex-bully, but he had to admit the soap Seifer used smelled rather nice – like pine tree and cedar wood. Now that he thought about it, he also remembered there had been undertones of pine in the man’s cologne, back when they both had been sitting on that couch in the lounge...
Much to his surprise, he found his groin stirring that the memory and hastily scrubbed the rest of his body to chase the sensation away. Where the hell was that coming from? Was he so desperate to get laid that even Seifer had become appealing to him? He scoffed at the idea, but felt his uneasiness grow nonetheless. He hadn’t felt the least repealed either when he had run his hand along the gunblade user’s tight...
Frowning, he scrubbed harder.
His tiredness finally catching up with him, Zell made short work of washing himself and put on Seifer’s spare clothes, which were predictably a good size too big for him, but were otherwise alright. He took the spare comforter he found in Seifer’s cabinet back with him to the couch, where he eyed the cat blandly. Purring, the tabby gazed at Zell with placid, oily eyes.
“You’re the fattest, ugliest cat I’ve ever seen.”
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Of All the Unlikely Things to Happen