[Final Fantasy VIII] Deft
Pairing: Seifer/Zell
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers, language
Notes: Written for the October 2008 round of IJ areyougame
Summary: He can't stop staring.
Word Count: 1139
Beta: celeloriel
"You're in luck, sir," the excessively peppy girl behind the counter said. Seifer had to wonder if she'd had her face reconstructed to accommodate her enormous smile. "Our very best mechanic is here today. He'll get this taken care of for you in no time at all."
Seifer failed to see how spending half his day waiting in an auto repair shop - not to mention paying for the privilege - made him "in luck," but he managed something like a smile in return. "Thanks," he said.
"I'll call for you once he's had a chance to check out the problem. In the meantime, please have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"
Whiskey, Seifer thought, but didn't say it. He shook his head and sprawled as best he could in one of the horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs. There was a pile of magazines on the table. Seifer nudged it with the toe of his boot. It looked like they were mostly old issues of Timber Maniacs and Combat King, though he did see a battered issue of Occult Fan that looked like it had been used to mop up a soda spill.
It probably made more sense with half the text smeared away.
Seifer waited impatiently, tapping his boot against the floor. The tiny little TV in the corner was broadcasting the morning news. The anchorwoman was, if possible, even more peppy than the girl behind the counter.
She might even be more peppy than Tilmitt, a thought that made Seifer's stomach turn.
He flipped through one of the battle series Timber Maniacs. They must have gotten a new artist. This one ran to excessively oversized breasts and chain-mail bikinis.
It wasn't that Seifer objected to breasts, or chain-mail bikinis. It was more that no one built like that could fight in those damn things without smacking themselves in the face.
"Mr. Almasy?" The perky girl was leaning over the counter. "If you'll come with me?"
Seifer tossed the manga back onto the table and got to his feet. Automatically he checked to be sure Hyperion was in reach before he remembered that he wasn't carrying her. The girl was standing patiently next to the door that led into the machine shop.
The shop was quieter than he'd expected, and cooler. He saw his car at the far end - a hunk of junk, but it got him around. The girl smiled brightly and pointed. "That way," she said helpfully.
Seifer managed not to roll his eyes and sauntered in the direction of his vehicle.
The mechanic was bent under the hood of the car. All Seifer could see was dark blue coveralls, liberally smeared with grease and oil, and scarred black boots.
He stopped about ten feet away. "So what's wrong with it?"
The mechanic straightened up and turned, and Seifer gaped.
"Chicken-wuss?!" he managed after a moment.
Zell scowled.
"If I'd known it was your car, I'd have put sugar in the fuel tank," he muttered. "Seifer, do you maintain this damn thing at all?"
"What the hell are you doing here instead of killing for profit?" Seifer asked.
Zell rolled his eyes. "Not much work for SeeD now that we fixed the mess you made," he said. "Not that many people who can afford SeeD's rates, either, so a bunch of us left Garden. I'm good with machines. So I'm here. And this car is a disgrace, Seifer."
His habitual dancing in place seemed to have faded to an occasional shifting of his weight. Seifer shrugged. "I got it on the cheap and I've had it a month. So what's wrong with it?"
"Your water pump's blown. That means no coolant's going through the engine. That means your engine overheats and will end up a heap of slag - well, more than it is - unless I fix it for you."
"And how much are you going to charge me to screw up my ride?"
"The usual is 400 gil for the parts, and 200 for the labor."
It sounded surprisingly reasonable. "Yeah, all right." There was a nearby column that seemed to support the roof. Seifer leaned back against it and crossed his arms.
"What, you're just going to stand there?" Zell said with disbelief.
"Gotta make sure you don't screw up," Seifer said.
A year ago, Zell would've tried to punch him. Now he just sighed and rummaged in a battered red toolbox that sat on the floor next to Seifer's car, and stuck his head back into the engine compartment.
He hummed tunelessly while he worked, swearing occasionally when something didn't behave as he expected it to. Seifer found himself watching Zell's hands closely. They were covered by black leather gloves, and Zell's movements were quick and deft. His inability to be still expressed itself by tapping his foot against the ground in time to whatever he was humming. In less time than Seifer would have believed possible, what seemed like half his engine was strewn across the concrete floor. Zell paused in his excavation of the car to wipe down each part he'd taken out, examining them thoroughly.
"Hell, Seifer, did you even bother to check the oil?" he asked in disgust as he set an L-shaped pipe back down.
"That's what mechanics are for," Seifer said.
"Did you take the car to a mechanic before you bought it?"
Seifer shrugged.
"Man, you deserve whatever you got, then. And what you got is terrible." Zell sighed. "Well, I'll see what I can do."
He continued to tinker with the pieces he'd pulled out. Seifer didn't see any noticeable difference, but Zell seemed to be satisfied. He started to put the pieces back together.
Seifer tried not to stare at the smear of grease that blended into Zell's tattoo, and told himself he wasn't watching the way Zell moved for any particular reason. He was just surprised that he seemed to know what he was doing.
Zell finished tightening something and slammed the hood, pulling off his gloves and tossing them aside. "There you go. Should run better now."
"Thanks," Seifer said.
"Yeah." Zell looked away. "So that's 600 gil. You can pay Tina."
Seifer nodded. "Hey, Zell?"
"What?"
"Not bad."
"Tch." Zell snorted. "That thing's going to need a lot more work if you want it to run well instead of limping along."
"I'll think about it," Seifer said.
He paid the 600 gil for the repairs while Zell brought the car around. When he put the car in drive and pressed the accelerator, it pulled forward much more smoothly, and without the irritating knocking sound it'd been making.
"Not bad, Zell," he said aloud.
Maybe he'd see about getting the car fixed up when he had some more money.
Seifer turned the car toward the docks and punched the gas.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers, language
Notes: Written for the October 2008 round of IJ areyougame
Summary: He can't stop staring.
Word Count: 1139
Beta: celeloriel
"You're in luck, sir," the excessively peppy girl behind the counter said. Seifer had to wonder if she'd had her face reconstructed to accommodate her enormous smile. "Our very best mechanic is here today. He'll get this taken care of for you in no time at all."
Seifer failed to see how spending half his day waiting in an auto repair shop - not to mention paying for the privilege - made him "in luck," but he managed something like a smile in return. "Thanks," he said.
"I'll call for you once he's had a chance to check out the problem. In the meantime, please have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"
Whiskey, Seifer thought, but didn't say it. He shook his head and sprawled as best he could in one of the horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs. There was a pile of magazines on the table. Seifer nudged it with the toe of his boot. It looked like they were mostly old issues of Timber Maniacs and Combat King, though he did see a battered issue of Occult Fan that looked like it had been used to mop up a soda spill.
It probably made more sense with half the text smeared away.
Seifer waited impatiently, tapping his boot against the floor. The tiny little TV in the corner was broadcasting the morning news. The anchorwoman was, if possible, even more peppy than the girl behind the counter.
She might even be more peppy than Tilmitt, a thought that made Seifer's stomach turn.
He flipped through one of the battle series Timber Maniacs. They must have gotten a new artist. This one ran to excessively oversized breasts and chain-mail bikinis.
It wasn't that Seifer objected to breasts, or chain-mail bikinis. It was more that no one built like that could fight in those damn things without smacking themselves in the face.
"Mr. Almasy?" The perky girl was leaning over the counter. "If you'll come with me?"
Seifer tossed the manga back onto the table and got to his feet. Automatically he checked to be sure Hyperion was in reach before he remembered that he wasn't carrying her. The girl was standing patiently next to the door that led into the machine shop.
The shop was quieter than he'd expected, and cooler. He saw his car at the far end - a hunk of junk, but it got him around. The girl smiled brightly and pointed. "That way," she said helpfully.
Seifer managed not to roll his eyes and sauntered in the direction of his vehicle.
The mechanic was bent under the hood of the car. All Seifer could see was dark blue coveralls, liberally smeared with grease and oil, and scarred black boots.
He stopped about ten feet away. "So what's wrong with it?"
The mechanic straightened up and turned, and Seifer gaped.
"Chicken-wuss?!" he managed after a moment.
Zell scowled.
"If I'd known it was your car, I'd have put sugar in the fuel tank," he muttered. "Seifer, do you maintain this damn thing at all?"
"What the hell are you doing here instead of killing for profit?" Seifer asked.
Zell rolled his eyes. "Not much work for SeeD now that we fixed the mess you made," he said. "Not that many people who can afford SeeD's rates, either, so a bunch of us left Garden. I'm good with machines. So I'm here. And this car is a disgrace, Seifer."
His habitual dancing in place seemed to have faded to an occasional shifting of his weight. Seifer shrugged. "I got it on the cheap and I've had it a month. So what's wrong with it?"
"Your water pump's blown. That means no coolant's going through the engine. That means your engine overheats and will end up a heap of slag - well, more than it is - unless I fix it for you."
"And how much are you going to charge me to screw up my ride?"
"The usual is 400 gil for the parts, and 200 for the labor."
It sounded surprisingly reasonable. "Yeah, all right." There was a nearby column that seemed to support the roof. Seifer leaned back against it and crossed his arms.
"What, you're just going to stand there?" Zell said with disbelief.
"Gotta make sure you don't screw up," Seifer said.
A year ago, Zell would've tried to punch him. Now he just sighed and rummaged in a battered red toolbox that sat on the floor next to Seifer's car, and stuck his head back into the engine compartment.
He hummed tunelessly while he worked, swearing occasionally when something didn't behave as he expected it to. Seifer found himself watching Zell's hands closely. They were covered by black leather gloves, and Zell's movements were quick and deft. His inability to be still expressed itself by tapping his foot against the ground in time to whatever he was humming. In less time than Seifer would have believed possible, what seemed like half his engine was strewn across the concrete floor. Zell paused in his excavation of the car to wipe down each part he'd taken out, examining them thoroughly.
"Hell, Seifer, did you even bother to check the oil?" he asked in disgust as he set an L-shaped pipe back down.
"That's what mechanics are for," Seifer said.
"Did you take the car to a mechanic before you bought it?"
Seifer shrugged.
"Man, you deserve whatever you got, then. And what you got is terrible." Zell sighed. "Well, I'll see what I can do."
He continued to tinker with the pieces he'd pulled out. Seifer didn't see any noticeable difference, but Zell seemed to be satisfied. He started to put the pieces back together.
Seifer tried not to stare at the smear of grease that blended into Zell's tattoo, and told himself he wasn't watching the way Zell moved for any particular reason. He was just surprised that he seemed to know what he was doing.
Zell finished tightening something and slammed the hood, pulling off his gloves and tossing them aside. "There you go. Should run better now."
"Thanks," Seifer said.
"Yeah." Zell looked away. "So that's 600 gil. You can pay Tina."
Seifer nodded. "Hey, Zell?"
"What?"
"Not bad."
"Tch." Zell snorted. "That thing's going to need a lot more work if you want it to run well instead of limping along."
"I'll think about it," Seifer said.
He paid the 600 gil for the repairs while Zell brought the car around. When he put the car in drive and pressed the accelerator, it pulled forward much more smoothly, and without the irritating knocking sound it'd been making.
"Not bad, Zell," he said aloud.
Maybe he'd see about getting the car fixed up when he had some more money.
Seifer turned the car toward the docks and punched the gas.