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Of Love, Fear and Control	By : lunael55 Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Seifer/Zell Views: 839 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own FF and don't make a penny from this

Chapter List
- 1-Of Love, Fear and Control
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
This is an alternative ending to my piece “Enduring it”, because I love happy endings, but I still felt that “Enduring it” was sort of a complete piece … So I wrote a multi-chapter alternative ending to the original story. With a little twist is store for you guys ;)
I’m a little nervous about this series, because I’m planning the go down the “graphic” road, if you get my drift… And I’ve never written graphic before. I’ve written a lot of things, but I’ve never actually written anything meant as “hot” before. I’m not really sure yet how to keep balance between too much and not enough. Oh, well. Be gentle with me, it’s my first time *wink*
And again, English is not my native language, and I apologize for any mistakes you may run into. Speaking of which, anyone (serious) interested in beta-reading this series? I feel I could do with some help somehow.
Of Love, Fear and Control
Alternative ending to Enduring it
Chapter 1
Seifer Almasy was sulking. To say he was dissatisfied with his current predicament was an understatement, though God knew he really shouldn’t be. When he would put his hands on that damned cowboy… It was all his fault. It was the discussion in the ballroom that triggered everything, Seifer knew it. If the damned air-head flirt would have just shut up his big, fat mouth, none of this would have happened. None of it.
Seifer let out an irritated snort. He guessed that after Irvine had confronted him about his so-called sexual orientation and crush on a certain common childhood friend, he had gotten more… guarded. Okay, he started to avoid him and those idiotic friends of his. What of it? It was not like they were missing him - he’d never actually been on speaking terms with any of them and had actively tried everything except physical violence to deter them from poking their nose into his business. So what if he wasn’t socializing much? It was common knowledge he spent most of his time either in the training center or locked up in his dorm room and nobody ever complained about that before –except Quistis, but then again Quistis always managed to find something to bitch about Seifer anyway. So what if he was grumpier than usual? So what if he didn’t bother to slip acidic comments at every occasion? So what if he took his meals at weird hours to avoid meeting up the Squall and his cronies? So what if he didn’t answer his phone and return his calls? But somehow, they had to make a huge deal out of it. It was like they had nothing better to do with their spare time than bugging him.
Seifer had a pretty good idea how it happened. Rinoa, being her usual self-appointed pain in the ass, must have noticed he was making himself sparse and whined to Squall about it because she thought he needed to “open up” or some similar sappy crap. Squall in turn must have asked Quistis to check on him to make his ditzy wife shut the fuck up. And Quistis, pissed to have to play babysitter, decided to take it out on Seifer by making an equally big deal out of it. She started to randomly show up at the Training Center and probe him with incessant questions and long speeches, getting harder and harder to brush off. And while he used to get some fun out of riling her up in the past, the blond man got fed up of his ex-instructor’s new-found patience and zeal pretty quickly.
He knew he just had to act like his usual unpleasant self to get her off his back, but he honestly couldn’t care for it. He didn’t want to see or hear about any of these morons and was not going to adopt a different behaviour just because it annoyed one Quistis Trepe. And the discussion he’s had with the cowboy had strictly nothing to do with it, okay? He was simply fed up with Squall and his cronies and needed some time off. Off the girls’ false sweetness, off Squall’s scowl, off Quistis’ bitching... and off that stupid cowboy. Anyway. Seifer had expected Quistis to quit pressing him with questions after being thoroughly ignored for a week or so, but his silence seemed to have the opposite effect on the nosy blonde and only served to fuel her determination, much to his annoyance. She became so insufferable the gunblade user took the habit to conceal himself in the Training area’s abundant vegetation whenever he heard someone walking toward him, in the odd chance he would run into her. He also started going back to his dorm room past her bedtime hour to avoid her, hiding his evenings away in he finest hiding spots he had come to discover back in his days in the Disciplinary Committee. He wasn’t particularly proud of being reduced to hiding from his ex-instructor like some delinquent teenager, but at that point he was ready to do anything to spare himself the blond woman’s false concern and endless lectures. And as far as he was concerned, it was all her damned fault to start with – if she would just get the hint and leave him be, there would be no need for him to lower himself to hiding behind a giant fern everytime he heard someone walking by.
Unfortunately, Seifer’s attempts to avoid Quistis Trepe weren’t always successful, and the damned woman knew very well she could get a hold of him right after his weekly meeting with Kadowaki. Thus she started to hang around the infirmary on Tuesday afternoons. Not that it did her much good, because the ex-knight just let her talk until she dropped the matter and left. She usually got fed up talking within an hour - probably thanks to all the efforts he had made to become insufferable to her in the past years, she didn’t seem to be able to stand him longer than that. But it was still such a pain.
Until it got worse.
Annoyed to have gotten nothing out of him after a couple of weeks, Quistis eventually told on him and had a bitching session with Kadowaki, who of course made an even bigger affair of the whole thing – and from then on, things got out of proportions. The two of them eventually confronted him about his attitude; he was called in for a “special” session and was thoroughly interrogated by the conniving women, who made quite a show of being concerned. They wore long, serious faces and spoke in hushed tones of their “concern for his mental health” and how opening up and talking “would make him feel better” and such for hours on, as if they believed repeating the same crap over and over would eventually make him open up at last. Like that tactic had worked in the past five years. Truly pathetic.
It was around that time too that the others also got on his case. Rinoa was the first to join Quistis in her crusade to Have Seifer Get Help, the young woman apparently not getting the hint that if he had wanted to ‘talk to a friend’, he would have returned the fifty or so messages she’d left on his answering machine in the past weeks. Fortunately, the pregnant ditz was easy enough to avoid, mostly due to the fact that she was into her 8^th month of pregnancy and therefore wasn’t very difficult to outrun. Which unfortunately was not the case of Selphie, who seemed to have gotten into her thick head that he needed cheering up and that this involved having him participate in the elaboration of the next big Garden event. Or showing up at six in the morning in his dorm room with big red helium balloons and cold blueberry pancakes. Or barging into his room late at night in green pajamas with popcorn and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream to force him to listen for 6 hours non-stop to some of the worst action movies they used to watch back at the Orphanage. Or leave creepy Moomba plushies on his bed. You get the general idea.
If he hadn’t known better, Seifer would have by then started to believe this was some sort of conspiracy they were all involved in to make him leave at last.
When he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, Irvine started to hunt him down as well, lurking around his dorm room late at night to get a hold of him when he came out of his hiding spots and returned to his room. The smiling auburn-haired man was looking for an occasion to have ‘a private word’, as he usually would put it. And while he could endure with grinded teeth in the worst of cases any of the girls’ probings, he sure as hell didn’t want to have to confront the cowboy about his homosexuality –ever- again. No need to say that by then, his already pretty shitty life had literally turned into an even shittier permanent game of hide and seek.
To make matters worse, there was that stupid window incident. Thinking back on it, Seifer had to admit it had been a pretty stupid idea. One evening Rinoa decided to show up at 10:40 p.m. and knock on his door. For some reason, she found it odd that he didn’t open up – I mean, why would anyone possibly ignore her at 10:40 pm? – and went to get Quistis, who, obviously pissed to have been waken up by her boss’ ditzy wife just to check on him, started to pound on his door angrily. Seifer didn’t want anything to do with either of them, so he ignored them, hoping they’d think he was still in the training center taking his frustration on the few T-Rex that Squall hadn’t managed to kill yet. When he heard the blonde tap in the code to override the electronic lock on his door, he got so annoyed at the two of them that he flew open his tiny window, broke the security railing and started climbing on the Garden’s outer walls. He heard Quistis and Rinoa yell at him to get back, but he ignored them, figuring out it would serve the two nosy pests right, and made himself as comfortable as possible in an alcove sheltered from the icy sea wind – and, more importantly, somewhere nobody would come to nag him.
In retrospection, those couple of hours of reprieve hadn’t been worth the trouble he got into afterward, for when he finally climbed down to his dorm room, Quistis, Irvine, Selphie, Rinoa, Zell and Commander Leather himself were all waiting for him - and needless to say, they were not pleased. That little stunt cost him one hell of a scolding from a very angry Irvine, who warned him that if he ever did something so reckless again, he’d go straight to Zell and spill everything, word of honor or not. It also cost him a very serious special meeting with Squall, Quistis and Dr Kadowaki that Seifer preferred forgetting altogether. Somehow, the silly women had gotten into their thick heads that his seven-hour break on the Garden roof had been a suicide attempt of some kind. A suicide attempt, would you believe? Well Squall hadn’t either, but he still increased his meetings with Kadowaki to three times a week as a payback of some sort. That ass.
After that stunt, most of the old orphanage gang started walking on eggshells with him and taking turns to watch over – read stalk - him, like there were expecting him to jump off the railing at any moment, and that really annoyed the hell out of the blond man. Every morning, when he would leave his room, there would be one of Squall’s cronies waiting outside his room to escort him to the training area. Someone else would magically show up at the entrance of the Training center whenever he tried to leave his workplace to walk him to his destination, wherever that happened to be, and then back. And as if having him escorted everywhere like a five year old kid wasn’t enough, Quistis and Commander Leather himself took the habit to randomly check up on him during the day. And of course, they always felt chatty – especially the girls - and forced him to listen to their empty chatter all the time. Even Squall awkwardly attempted to pick up discussions with him – which besides being rather creepy was just wrong. Seifer had a lot of experience putting up with unpleasant situations, but this one was seriously grating on his nerves. He only wanted to be left alone for fuck’s sake, how could those dimwits not get it? It wasn’t like it was hard to figure out!
At this point the only thing Seifer really wanted to do was to lock himself up in his room and simply ignore the whole world. Squall could throw him out for neglecting his duties as Training Center gardener for all he cared: being a wanted fugitive on the run was starting to sound much more interesting than being stuck here. But even running away wasn’t an option for him anymore, for Irvine was now very intently on his case, and although he hadn’t lorded it over so far, they both knew the cowboy had him by the balls and the blonde didn’t dare pissing him off again and run the risk of having his crush on Zell Dincht unveiled. So he sucked it up and put up with his new routine the best he could – simply put, he openly refused to acknowledge their presence and spent his days taking out his frustration on the rapidly thinning grat population of the Training Center.
Seifer didn’t know who had come up with the idea - obviously, it could not have been Squall’s. He was pretty sure Puberty boy was quite fine with the idea of a silent, brooding Seifer and wasn’t overly worried about how the grat population would cope with his newfound hobby. Anyway, it eventually occurred to somebody, who had a sudden flash of genius, that he may be feeling crammed up after spending five years locked up inside the Garden and that having some fresh air would lift his spirits better than having four women and one cowboy nagging him constantly. Making him feel like his job was important and appreciated, or some similar crap, was probably also part of the package deal. Or perhaps Squall just wanted to send Seifer off for a while so his wife would shut up about him, who knows. Anyhow, it was decided that the Training Center could do with more species of monsters to train on for cadets than just the stupid ol’ grats, something everybody could agree on. Seifer being in charge of the Training Center and the monsters it contained, he was therefore sent with a team of freshly graduated Seeds to the Timber and Dollet areas to capture a couple of low-level monsters to bring back to the BGU.
Sounds pretty neat, huh? Seifer had to admit that it was a pretty sound idea and that under normal circumstances, he would have been beyond thrilled to be allowed to walk out of the Garden and spend a couple of weeks patrolling wildness to fight and capture monsters, even if he had to do the whole trip with a bunch of rebellious young brats to watch over him. But that was the problem: Squall hadn’t trusted half a dozen inexperienced Seeds to look over him.
So he had sent Zell Dintch along to keep an eye on him and supervise the mission.
Which explained why Seifer Almasy was taking place in the passenger seat of a cargo truck beside the martial artist, inwardly cursing a certain cowboy for having to spend the following weeks in close quarters with his secret crush. Because even if this wasn’t some sort of twisted plan conceived by the delusional auburn-haired man to match him up with Zell Dincht – a possibility he wasn’t ready to discard just yet – it was still Irvine’s fault he ended up in this situation. He was the one who triggered all this shit. And now, to top it off, he was about to spend a little over two weeks with the martial artist. It was hard enough to avoid him as things were in a Garden full of students, how was he supposed to survive living two entire weeks with him? This was going to be hell.
Seifer knew a normal person would be pleased to spend so much time with someone they had a crush on. But the thing was, Seifer didn’t WANT to have a crush on the stupid martial artist, who would sooner turn into a hippopotamus than feel anything close to attraction toward him, nor did he WANT to spend time with him and be reminded at every moment the younger man couldn’t stand the sight of him. And he sure didn’t WANT to be watched over by the blonde man, who may somehow notice his ex-bully had feelings of some sorts for him, which was something Seifer wanted to avoid at all costs.
The truck’s cabin was hot and stuffy under the mid-summer blazing sun, the warm air coming in from the open windows barely refreshing him. Next to him, the driving blonde was humming to the distant sound of the hard rock music coming from the radio, an arm resting on the open window frame. He bore a contented, relaxed expression, his pale blond locks and fair skin bathed by the sunlight. Wearing a casual – and rather nice fitting, Seifer couldn’t help but notice – shirt with rolled up sleeves exposing his muscled forearm, pair of well-worn dark jeans and colourful sneakers, the martial artist looked anything like the grotesquely high-ranked professional mercenary he truly was. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the heavy fighting gloves he was wearing, Seifer guessed he could have passed for a young man going on a vacation trip. But then again, Seifer guessed that for someone as highly skilled as Zell Dincht, catching a couple of low-level monsters and babysitting a brooding ex-villain was some sort of a paid vacation.
“Would it kill you to try to be happy ‘bout it?” Zell’s exasperated voice suddenly interrupted his chain of thoughts. “You’ve been sulking ever since we left the Garden.”
Seifer didn’t answer.
“Look, I know we kinda clash, but let’s just try to be civil for change and enjoy the time off. It’s a nice summer day, the sun’s shining, birds are singing… y’know.”
“Shouldn’t you be saying that we need to concentrate on the mission?” Seifer asked humourlessly and Zell snorted.
“What mission? Seriously, all there is for us to do is to set up a couple of traps around the countryside, do a little camping, collect cages and go back to the Garden. A handful of rookies could have done it and we both know it. I think this spot should do,” the martial artist added as an afterthought, turning on his CB. “Team red to all units. We’re gonna stop and set a trap here. Over.”
“Then why did you end up with the babysitting job?”
Bringing the engine to an alt, Zell answered with a shrug. “I guess it was my turn to take on the shitty mission no one wants. If you didn’t want to have to deal with me, you should have told Squall. I’m sure he would have been happy to have you spend two weeks in the woods with Selphie or Quistis instead.”
Seifer grimaced sourly at the chirpy young man, who was already out of the truck cabin and yelling orders. Once again, the gunblade user was reminded that in spite of his perpetual enthusiasm and boyish looks, Zell Dincht was no longer the prissy teen he used to bully in his cadet days. The war had changed them all, and somehow it seemed to have given the martial artist an assurance and a sense of detachment nobody had thought the boiling and energetic teenager he used to be capable of. Or perhaps it taught him to just don’t give a shit so much about what people thought anymore, who knew.
Though not a nostalgic person by nature, Seifer found himself thinking back of the time when his relationship with the blonde was simpler, back to those glorious days when he had been a naïve teen impatient to prove himself to whom life seemed full of promises. Back then, everything had been simpler. Back then, Seifer had been so sure of his self-worth he would have never felt any kind of anguish over something as trivial as an infatuation. He would have made his move and shrugged off any refusals. Actually, Seifer was sure he would have never felt any kind of attraction for the thin-skinned and touchy teenage Zell to start with. But that was the thing: Zell was no longer a touchy teenager wearing flashy, baggy clothes and bearing a ridiculous haircut.
That stupid haircut. Now that he thought about it, it had been one of the reasons why he had liked to mock and bully the younger blonde so much in his youth. The martial artist still styled his air up, but he’d gotten rid of that air-defying chicken-crest by the time Seifer was accepted back into the Garden. The gunblader remembered it had been a shock to see him without it at first. Without it, his hair actually looked rather soft and –
Now, those were not the kind of thoughts he wanted to be having around the younger man, the ex-knight thought with a scowl.
Seifer followed Zell out of the truck and watched at a safe distance the martial artist order the younger Seeds around and have them set up one of the large steel cage into a trap. He got a couple of dark looks from the Seeds while doing so for letting them do all the hard work by themselves, but he knew he would have received an even colder treatment had he offered his help, so he preferred to stand back and watch. He tried to watch everything but him, but it was a near-impossible thing to do as the shorter blonde seemed to be everywhere at the same time, exulting efficiency as he ordered the Seeds around in that brisk and commandeering officer voice of his. And Seifer, though he knew better, couldn’t help but stare at him – no matter how much he tried to settle his attention anywhere else, his eyes were drawn to him like a moth drawn to light.
Every now and then, the younger man’s head would turn in his direction to check on him, and Seifer made sure his eyes were anywhere but on the energetic blonde every time it did, looking calculatingly vague and slightly annoyed. It was an art he’d gotten very good at in the past years – ogling without getting caught. Not that it was very proud of it, but at least it had its usefulness.
Setting the cage and trap took a good three hours. When they were done, they lunched quickly, got back in the insufferably hot truck and rode for another two hours or so until they reached the edges of the Dollet fields, where Zell decided to call it a day and set their camp for the night before it was too dark to assemble the tents. Though the camps’ ambiance was more than a little cold, the evening went well until martial artist ordered everyone to bed and Seifer discovered they shared a tent together. The gunblader had expected something of the sort, but not what was coming next.
Digging through the Seed mission bag they had brought to their tent, Seifer frowned.
“Dincht.”
“What?”
“There’s only one sleeping bag in there,” Seifer remarked, his frown deepening. Somehow he wouldn’t be surprised they had “accidentally” forgotten to load up his.
“Bravo, you know how to count, Sherlock. Want a badge or something?”
“Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“It’s a double bag.” the younger blonde replied dully, and Seifer froze on the spot, staring at the offending bag with disbelief and dismay.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“That’s what I told Squall, but he said I either shared a sleeping bag with you or I handcuffed myself to you and honestly, I could think of more interesting ways to wear handcuffs.”
For a few seconds, the ex-night stared blankly at the younger man, his brain assaulted by all the possibilities and images such a statement brought to his mind. Some of them were so lewd they could have made him blush if the whole situation had not left him so aghast.
“What the fuck?! Why the hell would we need to be handcuffed for?”
“To make sure you won’t flee during the night. Duh.”
“Where to?” Seifer shouted angrily. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere!”
“Yeah, I guess even Larvas wouldn’t put up with you and your charming personality. You done? Or are you gonna bitch for long? ‘Cause I’ve driven all day, I’m dirty and tired and I’d like to get some sleep at some point.”
Seifer could only stare in utter disbelief as Zell unpacked the sleeping bag and spread it out in the tent. This could not be happening. This had to be some kind of a very bad joke. He was not going to be sharing a double sleeping bag with Zell Dincht. No way. This had to be some sort of joke the blonde was pulling on him. But, a traitorous little voice reminded him, this was just the kind of thing he could see Squall ditch on him, to make sure he was miserable even out there in the Dollet fields. And he didn’t put it beyond the stupid cowboy to have been Puberty boy’s source of inspiration on that one. Shit. Shit, shit shit!
“No way I’m sleeping with you,” Seifer stated loudly, and the younger blonde gave him dark look.
“And what exactly makes you think you’ve got any say about it? ‘Cause you don’t. No more than I do. D’you think I’m happy about this? Think I’m thrilled to be your sleeping buddy for the next couple of days?”
“I don’t give a shit how you feel about it or what Leonhart said - I’m not sleeping with you, period. Get that through that thick head of yours.”
“Okay, now let me get this straight, Almasy. YOU better get this through YOUR head: for the ridiculous salary I’m being paid to take care of you, I’m not going to put up with any of that kind of shit. This situation stinks enough as it is without you having a tantrum over it. So if you keep on making a fuss ‘bout it, I’ll cast stop on you and handcuff you to the nearest tree for the night. Got it?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Why, because I’m too nice?” Zell asked in a mock tone. “Because it’s not fair? Or because Squall would care? Oh, go ahead. Give me just one reason to tie you to a tree and keep the sleeping bag to myself. Just try it.”
Seifer grinded his teeth to hold back a bitter retort. Zell smirked, looking triumphant.
“Well then, now that it’s settled, what side do you want? ‘Cause I myself prefer sleeping on the right side, if it’s okay with you of course.”
“Oh, shut up,” Seifer growled, and the younger blonde’s smirk widened, the Seed obviously amused to have the upper hand against his old schooldays bully.
“My, my. Such a cranky attitude. It’s just a camping trip, Seifer. You’ve gone camping before, haven’t you? It’s no big deal.”
Seifer didn’t comment on the martial artist’s words. Of course, for Zell, this was not going to be a big deal; for the gunblader, it was another story. How could he not be upset? Let’s face it: he was a total closet case who was about to share a sleeping bag with the guy he’s been secretly pinning for for more or less two years. Oh, right. Let me correct that: he was a closet case having serious issues about his homosexuality who was about to share a sleeping bag with the incredibly hot, straight childhood friend he’s been secretly dreaming about like a needy teenager for more or less two years. Could this get any worse?
Oh, but it could, his mind helpfully piped in. It could get SO much worse. What if Zell noticed something? What if he had a wet dream? What if he talked in his sleep? What if his hands got adventurous while he slept? It was not the black eye he was sure to get that scared him much, but the thought of Zell Dincht finding out about that dirty little secret of his. God, he didn’t know if he could live through the sheer humiliation.
Okay, he would survive, his mind supplied. He was already held in the lowest regards by everybody who cared to remember his name, so it was not like he could get much lower. Seifer was probably the only person in the whole universe who seriously gave a shit which way he swung the bat. Besides, given his sleeping pattern of the last five years, he was more likely to have nightmares than erotic dreams if he ever fell asleep with the martial artist. Not that it was much better, since Seifer sure as hell didn’t want anybody finding out about those or about his chronic insomnia – if Zell found out about these, he was sure to report them to Squall, who in turn would notify Kadowaki, and he would never hear the end of it. They could even try to use this against him to finally have him sent to the Estharian psychiatric institute, and the prospect of spending the rest of his life in a high security madhouse didn’t sound particularly appealing to Seifer.
Anxious and irritated, the ex-knight kept his comments to himself and stiffly sat down next to the sleeping bag to remove his boots, his belt and his summer jacket - the only one he owned. He then grumpily set to slide himself in the sleeping bag, hoping that by the time Zell would join him, he’ll be able to pretend to have fallen asleep and ignore him.
The martial artist looked up from the report he had been reviewing with a quizzical expression. “Huh, watcha doing?”
“Going to bed,” Seifer answered shortly. DUH.
“And you’re not changing?”
“No, Dincht, I’m not.”
“Why? Didn’t you bring pjs?”
“I have spare clothing, but I’m keeping it for later,” the taller blond answered with forced patience through gritted teeth.
“Jeez, if you don’t have much spare clothing, what else did you pack in there? Your whole DVD collection?”
“That’s my business, okay?”
“Fine, be like that if you want. But unlike some of us, I came here prepared and brought along spare PJs. I could lend you a pair if you ask reaaaal nicely.”
Seifer felt his pulse quicken at the thought of wearing Zell’s clothes. “No thanks.”
Zell shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m not sleeping with you and your sweaty and muddy clothes in there. Either you change, or you sleep outside with mister Happy Tree. Your choice.”
Seifer was about to send the martial artist a pointed glare when Zell proceeded to unbutton his shirt, and all thoughts of protestation suddenly flew out the window.
He simply couldn’t believe it. The gunblader gaped in bewilderment as Zell Dincht casually started to undress in front of him. Zell Dincht, stripping down in front of him. This could not be happening, Seifer’s mind raced as the blonde was unbuttoning his shirt, it couldn’t be happening for real. Though inwardly feeling increasingly uneasy about this situation, the gunblade user could not help but stare as the younger man removed his shirt, revealing muscled arms and shoulders and a tight-fit white tank top that really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Warmth sparked through Seifer’s whole body as the shorter blonde then took off his tank top, revealing firm abs and a muscled chest, the muscles rippling underneath his smooth, creamy skin making the older man’s mouth go dry.
Nonplussed, Zell then laid down on the sleeping bag, unbelted and unzipped his pants and raised his hips to slip his pants down when Seifer finally snapped out of his trance and looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. Feeling rather flushed and embarrassed, the ex-knight swiftly dished an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants out of his traveling bag. Facing the other side of the tent, Seifer hastily changed into his sleeping attire (which wasn’t that easy considering the limited moving space the tent provided) to try to forget his own embarrassment and the burning memory of his crush stripping in front of him – a memory that was sure to inspire many dreams/daydreams to come.
God, he couldn’t believe he had stared at the man undressing like some impressionable teenage girl. Sure, it had only lasted a couple of seconds, but he still had stared at him stripping. Curse his stupid libido! This was Zell Dincht. He was a guy, for fuck’s sake! Confound his idiotic gay body! This was so not the moment to have these stupid thoughts! Seifer hoped against all hopes the martial artist hadn’t caught him staring. But if he had, Seifer figured he would already be teasing him restlessly about it. Or making disgusted comments. As he had done neither, the gunblader felt it safe to assume his staring had gone unnoticed, which was some relief.
Reluctantly, he turned around to face the sleeping bag again when he was done, and was shocked a second time to find the other man sitting next to the thing, wearing only an old pair of battered and thin-looking flannel pants hanging low on his waist as he was putting his day clothes in his bag.
Feeling the eyes of the other man on him, Zell turned around to face Seifer, looking mildly annoyed.
“What again?”
“I thought you said you had PJs.” Zell raised an eyebrow at him, looking down on the older man as if he was some kind of a dumb kid.
“I do,” he said slowly, pointing his worn-looking pants. “Here they are.”
“You’re not seriously gonna sleep in this?”
“Fully intend to. What of it?”
Seifer could only stare, irked. “What do you mean, what of it?! We’re gonna sleep together, the least you could do would be to put something on for fuck’s sake! You’re practically naked!”
Putting away his bag and unzipping the sleeping bag open, the instructor rolled his eyes. “Oh, puh-lease. You’re seen me naked plenty of times in the shower room back in our cadet days, never seemed to traumatize you before, and we’re no longer kids. Get over it and go to sleep before I change my mind and decide to just tie you to that damned tree.”
Seifer opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and turned around in resignation. Beside him, he heard the martial artist huff and mutter something that sounded like “stuck-up bastard” before he turned down the light.
Silently, the gunblader slipped inside the open sleeping bag, resolutely facing the other side of the tent. Felling tense, he heard the sound of ruffling clothes, and then felt the other man slip into the bag next to him. Zell’s arms and legs brushed against his as he did so, the brief touches sending shivers down his spine. Even when the blonde stopped moving and settled in for the night, the double sleeping bag was so small Seifer could feel the other man’s body lightly pressed against his back. Zell’s body seemed to radiate warmth, which in turn made his own body temperature rise a few good degrees higher than was comfortable, and it all made it worse that the tall blond couldn’t tell if he was sweating madly because he wasn’t used to sleeping next to a source of body heat, because he was extremely embarrassed and uneasy by this forced intimacy or because this dammed situation made him hot as hell. Probably a bit of the three.
…And a lot of the latter.
Mentally cursing his stupid crush for the other man and the way his idiotic body was reacting to him like a fucking horny teenager, Seifer was trying not to think too much about how warm, firm and close the blonde felt against his body and to chase away images of the very hot half-naked man lying next to him. Seifer huddled himself up, feeling annoyed, tense and more than a little turned on.
Somehow, he had a feeling he would not get much sleep during this mission.
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Of Love, Fear and Control