**I do not own the characters, Vogue magazine, Vanity Fair magazine, Armani, Caramello Koalas or G.A.Y* magazine (I'm assuming it doesn't exist but one can never be too careful).
This is a completely random one shot that came about from my breif obsession of working at the airport and those really superficial questionnaires you find in magazines. I mean no offense to Russians. The name Seifer is German, but a Russian background seems to suit Seifer's physical traits better. I'm assuming the russian word means hot???????? This is AU-ish. I am so ashamed of this story but anyway...
If you chose C then....
"In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will descend from the ceiling...."
Zell felt like a complete idiot pointing to the plane's exits and adjusting his 'mock' oxygen mask. A blonde man within the vicinity of Zell's little performance was chuckling to himself, seeing the small blonde flap his arms like a chicken. Heck even his hair looked like the comb of a rooster.
Zell tried to ignore the man's flagrant disregard and quickly retreated back behind the curtains to gather himself. It was Zell's first time as a flight steward and there was considerable pressure for him to perform his duties effectively.
"Am I glad that's over. Some guy was making fun of me!", giving a frustrated sigh.
The last thing he needed was passenger shit.
Fortunately for Zell, his bout of depression was short lived, having overdosed on caffeine and a variety of junk food before the flight. He supposed he was edgy, but one needed ungodly amounts of cheerful optimism and vigour to survive flying in a pressurised cabin that could potentially crash in the middle of nowhere erupting in a blaze of flames while being sucked into a turbine and being mercilessly ripped to shreds.
Zell was ready for anything.
"Zell...?"came an exasperated sigh.
"Yeah Quisty?"
"You will refer to me by my proper name, Quistis!" sending a flare that could shrink balls.
Zell supposed she was pretty and sexy if you were straight that is. Yes, she might have been blonde with a bust to boot, but behind that stereotypical facade lay a venomous and cunning snake. One that could drip its words with honey laced with arsenic. She could definitely throw a generous and often saccharine compliment, though it left you pondering its actual intent and whether she was deviously plotting your demise.
Like I care.
She stood on the spot waiting for a response; a sign that her deathly gaze somehow affected the rambunctious blonde. Zell was just staring at the blonde beauty completely dumbfounded, knitting his brow in confusion. She kept on doing something funny with her eyes, tilting her head towards the aisle of passengers like a person with a nervous tic.
Was something stuck in her eye?
Maybe she had a cramp?
After moments of awkward silence.
"Zell I have no idea how you managed to pass the practical exam. Anyway, take off is scheduled in 10 minutes and....??", hoping to remind Zell of his responsibilities.
"Okay well...ummmm.....lets see.......okay I know this...I – I- KNOW THIS....oh I know we check if everyone has fastened their seatbelts properly?", he silently thanked the little seatbelt icon that was alight.
"Be warned Mr Dincht, if I find you can't follow standard procedure then I suggest you get back to delivering papers."
Zell could have sworn he saw a broom peeping under her skirt, though it might have been his LSD laced bubblegum tattoo frying his mind.
He always did like Spiderman.
DAMN! Could these aisles get any smaller.
Zell found himself carting the wheel of refreshments, while Quistis sat comfortably in her chair reading the ever superficial Vogue magazine.
What a total bitch letting me do all the work!
"Hello Madam, may I interest you in some refreshments?" Zell asked, effortlessly switching his usual informal banter to a crisp business like tone.
"Well I am really feeling kind of peckish, Zell" the posh decrepit vat chuckled.
He hated customers that actually paid attention to his name tag. It was so stalker-ish.
Zell pasted a fake smile, patiently awaiting her order.
The 'mature' lady scanned the poorly laminated menu, stopping to mutter and then finally order until she quickly changed her mind and continued searching for that elusive foodstuff. Not that there were many. After all this was a cheap economy domestic flight.
Zell tapped his foot impatiently, swaying from side to side trying to stave off a thrombotic attack.
"We have a selection of premium deli sandwiches, an assortment of beverages and confectionary to choose from" trying to coax the woman along. He flashed an impressive smile that would have landed Zell the leading role on a Colgate commercial.
His jaw was beginning to hurt.
Upon noticing the rather ravishing features of the young man beside her, the senile granny began to replay her life story, a youthful glint in her eyes as she proudly divulged her most juiciest encounters.
"You know when I was young I used to make sandwiches for the milk man. Handsome devil and quite well hung too.....I remember the first time with him....awfully painful though" the old bag wistfully reminisced. Zell didn't have the heart to interrupt her little story. She was much too 'cute' in a geriatric way, blossoming into a whimsical grin as she remembered Horton the horse hung boy and Ahmed the musky scented Arab living in her apartment during the swinging sixties. There were benefits to dementia Zell thought. Sexual freedom perhaps?
In the end, the woman didn't order anything complaining she suffered from a combination of lactose and gluten intolerance. That threw much of the menu down the drain.
Moving on...
"What took you so long? I should report you know!" The man snarled. He began shouting to hopefully alert the supposed 'manager' of the flight to pluck Zell away and spank him shamelessly.
Hmmmmm he sounds Russian...??
That would explain the short blonde hair...
....green eyes...
..chiselled jaw...
...high cheekbones...
...pale skin...
...solid frame...
....and the animal fur...
The man continued berating Zell for his tardiness.
"I'm dreadfully sorry sir, would you like to buy some refreshments?" Zell replied with obvious disdain.
Great, I'm stuck with a straight KGB agent who happens to be like....WOW!
Pity the snarl ruined the blonde's Adonis features. Zell supposed he was the typical heterosexual trash that seemed to have an over inflated ego to make up for his lack lustre attitude and penile length. He could almost imagine the man salivating over some loose bimbo wearing outrageously garish stilettos and a dress that left nothing to the imagination. Then he would go the local pub wearing a crummy t-shirt and a pair of old jeans and congregate with his homophobic chums over a pint of cheap booze talking about the last chick he managed to elicit a string of 'supposed' multiple orgasms. It was common knowledge that only 35% of women achieved an orgasm, so it would be highly likely that blonde bimbo was merely faking it with her subpar moans of ecstasy further stoking the blonde's ego.
Why am I getting so worked up over this? Im friggin writing a thesis on the man's sexual tastes.
Fuck him!
His snarl and smirk sent Zell teetering on the edge of punching the man and then savagely ravaging his succulent lips.
"Aren't you hot in the coat sir?" he needed to get the man's mink or polar bear (whatever it was) coat off. Zell's mind was too busy conjuring images of the Russian bear (minus the hair) naked underneath the coat except for a pair of socks and sock suspenders. The man just screamed retro raunch.
The blonde Adonis just stared with an annoying smirk on his face, feigning 'non comprendo'.
Zell seemed to catch on that Mr. Fabio probably had a limited English vocabulary.
"A-r-e y-o-u h-o-t s-i-r?" Zell began to unbutton his shirt a few buttons down to try and replicate the idea of removing one's garments while rubbing away imaginary sweat off his forehead.
"Oh горячий??" playing along. Who would ever think the British were so....strange?
The Russian emerald eyed beauty played on and unbuttoned his coat slowly, painfully revealing inch after inch of pure unadulterated muscle. Zell knew the Russians were big on fashion, but this was just insane. The tightest jeans and silk shirt he had ever seen. The man was a walking model cum KGB agent who could possibly easily dominate the adult entertainment industry if his body was anything to go by. Then again that annoying snarl proved otherwise.
Zell offered to place the coat in the overhead compartments, for which the Russian agreed.
The devastating Adonis smiled and silently chuckled at the sight of the blonde steward on his tippy toes reaching for dear life to open the latch. Wasn't there a height requirement for this job?
"Okay then. Would you like to order anything?", immersing himself in reorganising the cart. Zell was flustered, hot and undeniably 'ignited'. He had made a complete fool of himself trying to open the damn latch.
I think I pulled a muscle.
If only he listened to his Ma and ate his greens instead of hot dogs and well...more hot dogs. Life was cruel and Zell knew firsthand.
"Coffee?"came the rich baritone voice, vibrating his Adam's apple. It sent a shiver up Zell's spine at the implications.
Zell searched his collection of stainless steel jugs.
"Straight?" almost begging the Russian Tsar to say NO and then cart him off into the lavatory where they would assume a number of positions in the small space.
The blonde model scrunched up his face in disgust, softening his features to that of a naughty child having their mouth washed out with soap.
Zell's pale skin flushed and his eyes attained a glossy sheen, a sure sign that he was playing the demure damsel to perfection.
Could this guy get any cuter?
"Chocolate?", the Russian man raising a thick gold strewn eyebrow.
Why is he staring at me?
Why is he licking his lips?
Zell's mouth was agape at the most disturbingly erotic sight he had ever seen. The man was practically undressing him with his eyes, breathing heavily and....
SCOFFING!?
CHUCKLING!?
"Sorry I don't do chickens," in his characteristic accent.
Chicken?
Hey I'm not a chicken!
It must be my gay curse.
All the cute guys Zell used to pick up were lacking in the personality department. His last boyfriend Squall was as lively as a door knob. It was like having a sex with a corpse. He was even cold which just made the situation worse.
Zell shivered at the thought of his cold dick. The man was fucking hypothermic.
Zell glared daggers at the passenger laughing to himself.
OH YEAH?! well chickens don't have this!
He was so close to pulling down his trousers and proving he definitely was no chicken..but he didn't. He wouldn't dare give Quistis the satisfaction of reporting him.
So he decided to take a different course of action.
"Well....what do you do?" whispering seductively into the Russian's ear.
Zell's scent of vetiver, mint and pine mingled in the air. He was so close to the man's ear, his lobes like luscious globules of fleshy goodness. The devestating blonde slightly turned to look Zell in the eyes and captured a glimpse of Zell's physique.
White shirt half undone provided the man with an interesting view of Zell's washboard abs and perfectly shaped nipples.
-silence-
"Look....I know you obviously hate me for some strange reason, but I'm trying my best here. Now would you like something to eat or drink? Could you please tell me NOW so I can serve the other passengers!" stressing each word with finality.
Zell was pissed.
Dammit...he probably didn't understand anything.
Sighing in defeat Zell gave him a free bar of chocolate, hoping to rid himself of the man.
Moving on....
Seifer was staring at his Caramello Koala with some kind of twisted happiness. It wasn't everyday some person gave you a free chocolate. And it was good chocolate with gooey caramel....not the compounded shit.
So Mr Chicky was hiding an impressive body under that innocent veil AND maybe his choice of cologne was enough to send anyone on the brink of orgasm AND perhaps his straight perfectly shaped teeth and protruding canines expanded endless foreplay possibilities.
No.
He had noticed Zell's eyes sparkle with jovial innocence. They were a stunning light azure reminding Seifer of a hot Barbados sun setting over the clear crystalline reefs.
They were bewitching and Seifer had to see more.
Ughhhh...how he hated obsessions.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
Zell searched the passenger list looking for the man sitting in 21A.
Name: Seifer Almasy
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Medical Conditions: Asthma
Pompous jerk!
Quistis continued reading her collection of magazines. This time conversing with a pasty looking teen over a copy of Vanity Fair.
Zell just rolled his eyes.
Who reads that trash? Give me G.A.Y* anytime.
Great! What does he want now!?
"May I help you sir?"
"I would like some water........................please!"
"Sure ...."
Aghhhhhhh!
"May I help you sir?"
"I would like to get my wallet from my coat...."
Right...and it's so fucking hard to move your perfectly shaped ass and get it?
"Sure..."
Damn him.
Zell reached again for the infamous latch, stretching his petite frame to the limits.
"Shit!" he muttered after pulling a hamstring. The pain was agonising and he was barely able to support his weight.
"Here is your coat sir" gritting his teeth.
Seifer elegantly removed his wallet and then....
"Here you go"
"WHAT?!.....I mean pardon Sir?"
"Put it back.................................................please?"
He smirked, almost egging him to refuse.
Zell attempted several times to hoist the damn heavy coat into the overhead compartment, until he unceremoniously hurled it with the finesse of a jackhammer.
Seifer was not pleased. It took him a whole month to track down the elusive bear.
"Don't throw it like that. I expect care....now go before I report you for manhandling my precious cargo."
Hmmmmm.....I could get away with it. Its thick enough. I could smother him with his coat and pretend he had an asthma attack.....yes it could work.
"It could actually work," sending the Russian a look of pure insanity.
Seifer eyed the blonde wearily.
Zell replied with a maniacal grin.
That shut him up!
I could strangle him with the seatbelt.....or I could scald him with hot coffee.
"May I help you sir?" Zell was sick of saying the same thing over and over again.
"I need my puffer"
"Okay then where is it sir?"
His eyes shifted upwards.
OH SHITTY FUCK.....not the damned overhead locker again. Seifer had the gall to innocently look at the flight attendant. He was asthmatic so if he died from a wheezing episode.....well Zell didn't want it on his conscience.
Zell for the umpteenth time stretched with all his might to reach the demented latch until..
"OH.....Ohhhhh...I...I think..I tore the hamstring" Zell cried in pain falling haphazardly over the Russian blonde.
"I'm sorry" Zell said rather gruffly, annoyed that the Russian seemed to be the root of all evil.
He propped himself up well aware that he would probably feel excruciating pain. Which ofcourse he did.
"Look, you're taller than me" he lunged for Seifer's waist undoing his seatbelt.
"I'm not killing myself over your puffer and your substandard, fake rayon coat. Please leave me alone!"
Zell waddled away in distress. His chances of keeping the job were now next to zero thanks to the 'handsome devil' on board.
"YEAH WADDYA WANT?"
"I would like a Caesar sandwich", clearly not impressed with Zell's wayward tone.
"I'm sorry SIR but lunch has ended. We're only 40 minutes away from Balamb airport where you can stuff you face. "
"No I want one now and you're giving it to me because you have been rude, arrogant and unhelpful." Seifer made sure to say this out loud, causing Zell to flush in embarrasement.
"Allow me to apologise Sir if I have offended your asinine way of living. I will get you that sandwich" after a 40 minute delay ofcourse. Zell limped away a smile gracing face.
SHIT she saw me.
"Zell you are a public liability now and I can't afford to have you navigate your way with that limp through the aisle when you could endanger the lives of passengers. "
"But..." Zell was quickly cut off by the dealthy reprimanding gaze of Quistis.
"No buts, I'll have to report you to the head office for this. It's unlikely that you'll keep the job. The company doesn't like forking out worker's compensation to employees who are incapable of doing the job properly."
She was a bitch and a half.
Zell spent the remainder of the flight strapped to his chair oogling the latest bit of flesh in his G.A.Y* magazine.
Hmmm..a questionnaire.
What's your flavour?
1. If you were stranded at a party with no food and feeling ravenous, would you:
(A) Order a Pizza
(B) Starve yourself because you want to lose some weight
(C) Become a cum whore
That was an easy question for Zell whose mind chose A (it was the obvious and the most logical decision), but strangely his pen in hand circled C.
2. You have been invited to a wedding where you:
(A) Wish the groom and bride congratulations
(B) Dress better than the groom because after all you have a jealous rivalry with the fucking bastard
(C) Prevent the groom from consummating his marriage by impaling yourself on his giant lovewand.
Gee who the hell comes up with these questions? The answer is (A)...(A)...not (C). Dammit.
3. You are surrounded by a group of thugs in a dark alleyway, you:
(A) Run for your life
(B) Run for your life because you can't afford the medical expenses associated with bashings because you spent all the money on BOTOX.
(C) Lustfully gaze at your killers imagining a night filled with bloodsports and non-consensual sex.
Hmmm...I suppose it would be (A).....not (C)...yes definitely (C). FUCK IT!
After much cussing, Zell made it to the last question.
10. You meet a lonely man weeping after a dead loved one in a cemetery, would you:
(A) Sympathise with the man
(B) Weep louder, because you must excel at everything.
(C) Comfort him with a rough passionate fuck on her tombstone because he is sexually frustrated after mourning his beloved homophobic mother.
Who would do that? Okay it's definitely (A)....and knowing me I have probably circled C. Yep how did I know?
Reading on:
If you answered mostly A's you shall lead a boring existence, living with your ageing, over domineering mother who insists she bathe you at the age of 40. Your flavour is vanilla. You are plain and boring. So perhaps you might be innocent and white as snow.....but nobody likes a virgin.
If you answered mostly B's then please get a life because you are not the superior prick you think you are. You're flavour is strawberry. You are saccharine sweet and you ego is like a giant strawberry flavoured bubblegum waiting to pop. Heck you're not even real strawberry but the artificial crap. You are in a nutshell.....FAKE.
If you answered mostly C's please turn to page 56.
Breathing a sigh of relief he turned to the designated page.
OH SHIT.
Congratulations! You are a sexually active man with an undying need to fuck everything in sight. Your flavour is chocolate. Sinfully sweet and bitter at the same time, you stop at nothing to gratify your urges. Men quiver on their knees as they frantically lick you like a melting chocolate scoop of ice cream.
BUT it wasn't that statement that shocked the boyish looking Zell. No, it was the poster sized image of a naked man slathered in chocolate sticking a chocolate bar up his ass. A blonde man sticking chocolate up his ass. An emerald eyed blonde man sticking chocolate up his ass. It was bloody fucking Seifer the emerald eyed blonde man sticking chocolate up his ass.
Well I'll be damned.
While Quistis was flirting with the pilot in the cockpit, Zell thought it was about time that he gave the Russian KGB agent cum sex poser AKA Seifer Almasy his Caesar sandwich.
"Hello Mr. Almasy, sorry for the delay, but I got reprimanded for tearing a hamstring no thanks to you and because of that I am soon going to be out of a job. So here is your fucking Caesar sandwich."
He was going to be fired after all. What's a bit of swearing?
Before Seifer could reach it, Zell expertly flayed the sandwich on the blonde effectively coating his trousers in dollops of mayonnaise and Caesar dressing.
9. Suppose you are a flight attendant who accidentally drops food or beverage on a passenger due to air turbulence. Would you:
(A) Apologise profusely and hand the passenger napkins
(B) Ignore the passenger because you realise they are wearing Armani
(C) Attempt to lick their crotch (site of stain) because you must not let good things go to waste, while attempting to dirty other items of clothing.
One can guess by the characteristic chicken hair bobbing up and down licking the creamy mayonnaise off Seifer' designer jeans that Zell chose option C. Zell continued to lick, rubbing his cheek and chin like a rabid dog against Seifer's pants. Zell could feel Seifer's member trying to uncoil painfully against the confines of the tight jeans.
Seifer was met with more abuse as Zell painfully slapped a caramello koala against his silk shirt, breaking the flimsy chocolate shell, releasing a golden shower of gooey goodness.
"You can't do..." Seifer's pleas were broken off by a bruising kiss. Zell's prominent canines bit painfully into Seifer's luscious lips emitting a strangled cry.
"That's for calling me a chicken" whispering menacingly into Seifer's ear.
That was it.
Zell left feeling accomplished, returned to his seat continuing his perusal of the ever useful G.A.Y* magazine. Seifer was left with a bleeding lip, a sugar glazed silk shirt and saliva stained pants the very definition of a cumming whore.
The plane had safely landed in Balamb and to the disgust of Zell, Qusitis had left him to peruse the plane for any lost property. That only meant one thing, searching each and every overhead locker.
JOY!
Zell made his way to seat 21A giggling to himself at the sight of wilted lettuce, globules of drying mayonnaise, and cold chicken. He painfully reached for the locker to be met with the elusive coat that caused so many problems.
"Hmm his puffer isn't here...." Zell trailed off fumbling through the coat pockets hoping to find a cheque for a million buckeroos. Sadly he found a letter with chicken scratchings:
11. If a passenger left behind lost property would you:
(A) Pass the items onto the airline company for forwarding
(B) Keep the item(s) and sell them on EBAY
(C) Chase down the individual and demand BDSM in exchange for the item(s)
Zell flipped the paper over confused as to why the Russian blonde would pose such a silly question. Curiously he read:
If you chose A you are a Chicken Wuss
If you chose B you are a Chicken Wuss
If you chose C, I can be found at my waterfront estate in Balamb. The breast pocket contains the address and a spare key I entrust to you.
Hmmmmmm.....I wonder what option Zell chose???
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OOOOOOKAY THEN!!!! Well that was very random:D