Manly Request Week: Garage (FFVIII, for Nay)
Title: Echoes in the Garage
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Seifer/Zell
Rating: T (language)
Warnings: Seifer curses! OMG
Summary: Racing Seifer on Garden property wasn’t Zell’s best idea.
For bottle_of_shine. Written for Manly Request Week.
---
“I don’t frigging believe this.”
“Shut up, Zell.” Seifer didn’t even look up from his spot on the floor. “Just shut up.”
“Seriously!” Zell spun around, angrily tossing his sponge at the nearby bucket; it missed, falling with a sloppy splat onto the floor. “This is so not cool.”
“Just shut the fuck up, Zell,” Seifer repeated. “You’re only makin’ it worse with your bitching.”
“Blow me.” Zell stuck his tongue out on the way to his fallen sponge. “You’re only making it worse with your … being here.”
“Good one.”
“Yeah, cause wrecking that motorbike was a good one.”
Now Seifer looked up, his eyes flaring. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s your fault we’re here!” Zell retorted. “You wrecked Garden’s motorbike, you dumbass! I don’t know how I got lumped in here with you -”
“It’s because I had to swerve to not hit your dumb blond T-boarding ass,” Seifer stated, clearly. “Besides, the race was your stupid idea.”
“Ain’t my fault you can’t drive,” Zell taunted.
“Ain’t my fault you can’t fly that fucking piece of shit,” Seifer returned, blandly turning back to the car in front of him. He dipped his own sponge back into the soapy bucket, then slopped an indiscriminate amount of suds onto the wheel of the car and started scrubbing again.
“Do we really have to do all the cars?”
“Do you really have to whine like a fucking girl?”
A thoroughly soaked sponge hit Seifer directly between the shoulder blades. “Not a girl,” Zell called, ducking behind another car after wagglign his rear in Seifer's general area.
“You’re certainly a bitch,” Seifer replied, grabbing his bucket. “And I can see your fucking chicken hair from over here, don’t think you’re hiding.”
“Shit!” Zell leapt up, but it was mostly too late: the soapy water caught his entire right side, shoulder down.
Seifer burst out laughing. Zell was standing there, fuming in anger, half of his t-shirt soaked and sticking attractively to his chest muscles. His hair, partially wet, was now skewed to the side like a crooked peak of whipped cream.
“You’re an asshole,” Zell stated, and Seifer grinned at him.
“That I am.”
There was a companionable moment of silence, during which Seifer leant up against the nearest car and lit up a smoke. Zell came to stand beside him, deliberately leaning his wet side against Seifer, one part teasing and two parts revenge.
“Git off, you’re soaked.” Seifer elbowed him in the ribs.
“Mmmph.” Zell didn’t move.
Seifer gave up, content to smoke his cigarette and not wash Garden’s car collection. “All the fucking cars.”
“Man, Squall sucks.”
“Finally,” Seifer said, chuckling, “something we can agree on.”
“It was a good race,” Zell said, elbowing Seifer in return and watching the other man’s eyes on his wet shirt. “If that dumb girl hadn’t jumped in front of my T-board, I would’ve won.”
“Still woulda lost,” Seifer said, “but at least we wouldn’t be cleaning the fucking cars.”
“And I’ve got detention,” Zell said, sighing dramatically.
“Me too.”
“With Quistis.”
“Yup.” Seifer blew out a long cloud of smoke. “Waste of fuckin’ time.”
“You’re a waste of time.”
“Your mom’s a waste of time.”
Zell grunted. “If I thought you meant that, I’d fight you over it.”
“Just kidding, chickenwuss, your mom’s a great lay.”
Zell rolled his eyes, standing straight again and stretching. “That insult’s so last week.”
Seifer puffed smoke in his face. “That’s funny, cause last week is when I slept with -”
“Ha ha,” Zell said. “Shut up and come on, we’ve got like a billion cars left.”
“There are a dozen cars, Dincht.”
Zell grinned. “Yeah, and we’ve only done two. We’ll be here forever, and I’m starving.”
Seifer stubbed his cigarette out on the hood of the car and walked back to his (now empty) bucket, smacking Zell’s ass on the way. “I need more water. I’ll grab you a fuckin’ hot dog.”
“I knew you loved me,” Zell called as Seifer left.
“I’d love if you would shut the fuck up,” Seifer returned.
Zell stuck his tongue out in return; Seifer sent him a smirk and a raucus wink, and headed up the stairs
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Seifer/Zell
Rating: T (language)
Warnings: Seifer curses! OMG
Summary: Racing Seifer on Garden property wasn’t Zell’s best idea.
For bottle_of_shine. Written for Manly Request Week.
---
“I don’t frigging believe this.”
“Shut up, Zell.” Seifer didn’t even look up from his spot on the floor. “Just shut up.”
“Seriously!” Zell spun around, angrily tossing his sponge at the nearby bucket; it missed, falling with a sloppy splat onto the floor. “This is so not cool.”
“Just shut the fuck up, Zell,” Seifer repeated. “You’re only makin’ it worse with your bitching.”
“Blow me.” Zell stuck his tongue out on the way to his fallen sponge. “You’re only making it worse with your … being here.”
“Good one.”
“Yeah, cause wrecking that motorbike was a good one.”
Now Seifer looked up, his eyes flaring. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s your fault we’re here!” Zell retorted. “You wrecked Garden’s motorbike, you dumbass! I don’t know how I got lumped in here with you -”
“It’s because I had to swerve to not hit your dumb blond T-boarding ass,” Seifer stated, clearly. “Besides, the race was your stupid idea.”
“Ain’t my fault you can’t drive,” Zell taunted.
“Ain’t my fault you can’t fly that fucking piece of shit,” Seifer returned, blandly turning back to the car in front of him. He dipped his own sponge back into the soapy bucket, then slopped an indiscriminate amount of suds onto the wheel of the car and started scrubbing again.
“Do we really have to do all the cars?”
“Do you really have to whine like a fucking girl?”
A thoroughly soaked sponge hit Seifer directly between the shoulder blades. “Not a girl,” Zell called, ducking behind another car after wagglign his rear in Seifer's general area.
“You’re certainly a bitch,” Seifer replied, grabbing his bucket. “And I can see your fucking chicken hair from over here, don’t think you’re hiding.”
“Shit!” Zell leapt up, but it was mostly too late: the soapy water caught his entire right side, shoulder down.
Seifer burst out laughing. Zell was standing there, fuming in anger, half of his t-shirt soaked and sticking attractively to his chest muscles. His hair, partially wet, was now skewed to the side like a crooked peak of whipped cream.
“You’re an asshole,” Zell stated, and Seifer grinned at him.
“That I am.”
There was a companionable moment of silence, during which Seifer leant up against the nearest car and lit up a smoke. Zell came to stand beside him, deliberately leaning his wet side against Seifer, one part teasing and two parts revenge.
“Git off, you’re soaked.” Seifer elbowed him in the ribs.
“Mmmph.” Zell didn’t move.
Seifer gave up, content to smoke his cigarette and not wash Garden’s car collection. “All the fucking cars.”
“Man, Squall sucks.”
“Finally,” Seifer said, chuckling, “something we can agree on.”
“It was a good race,” Zell said, elbowing Seifer in return and watching the other man’s eyes on his wet shirt. “If that dumb girl hadn’t jumped in front of my T-board, I would’ve won.”
“Still woulda lost,” Seifer said, “but at least we wouldn’t be cleaning the fucking cars.”
“And I’ve got detention,” Zell said, sighing dramatically.
“Me too.”
“With Quistis.”
“Yup.” Seifer blew out a long cloud of smoke. “Waste of fuckin’ time.”
“You’re a waste of time.”
“Your mom’s a waste of time.”
Zell grunted. “If I thought you meant that, I’d fight you over it.”
“Just kidding, chickenwuss, your mom’s a great lay.”
Zell rolled his eyes, standing straight again and stretching. “That insult’s so last week.”
Seifer puffed smoke in his face. “That’s funny, cause last week is when I slept with -”
“Ha ha,” Zell said. “Shut up and come on, we’ve got like a billion cars left.”
“There are a dozen cars, Dincht.”
Zell grinned. “Yeah, and we’ve only done two. We’ll be here forever, and I’m starving.”
Seifer stubbed his cigarette out on the hood of the car and walked back to his (now empty) bucket, smacking Zell’s ass on the way. “I need more water. I’ll grab you a fuckin’ hot dog.”
“I knew you loved me,” Zell called as Seifer left.
“I’d love if you would shut the fuck up,” Seifer returned.
Zell stuck his tongue out in return; Seifer sent him a smirk and a raucus wink, and headed up the stairs