Miss Balamb Garden
Chapter Nine | Of Cards and Cookies
Time appeared to be speeding up as both the Timber mission and the beauty pageant drew close. If anyone had told Seifer he'd spend several weeknights (and some weekends too) stuffing water balloons into a dress and practising strutting back and forth, dancing and twirling with a wig on while answering questions about Garden industrial action, he would have recommended a good strong dose of pills from the infirmary.
And yet here he was, doing exactly that.
What was more, he was kind of enjoying it.
Balamb Garden was in a beauty pageant state. Posters were plastered upon every surface, a huge glittery banner was stretched over the directory, and head shots of the four contestants were displayed at random places with the words, "WHO WILL BE MISS BALAMB GARDEN?" A flurry of bets was being placed with the tide changing daily based on wild, unfounded rumours about what the contestants were wearing or doing for their talent. (No one was really sure though, of course. Their assistants were very tight-lipped).
Seifer had assumed that with the event so close, he'd see even less of Raijin and the others, but it was as if the beach trip had uncorked everyone's camaraderie. Now, on the contrary, it appeared as though the contestants had done enough of the leg work and were now confident and relaxed to spend more time with each other. Seifer wasn't sure how he felt about that. He himself felt assured in what he and Quistis had accomplished, but maybe he should be taking advantage of everyone's else's relaxed guard to gain a one-up on them.
Whereupon he would chastise himself, wondering why he was taking this damn thing so seriously.
So mealtimes were more populated now in the cafeteria and Seifer found himself even having time to just hang in the quad with the others. Irvine had officially suspended the woodwork gathering for the next few weeks, claiming they had enough on their plate until the pageant was over. And Irvine was very good at talking to any old fussy ladies who might have been upset by the delays this would incur.
One late afternoon Seifer found himself in the quad, sitting by the side between two groups: Zell had introduced a game involving lies, deceit, manipulation and elimination, and currently Raijin, Fujin, Selphie and Irvine were all engrossed in it; the other group was Squall and Xu involved in a very silent and serious match of Triple Triad.
Zell and co had instantly killed off Seifer in the first round, much to his disgruntlement, and was now told he could not speak anymore in the game; and any comment he made to Squall and Xu was swiftly met with a shrill, "Shhh!", so all he was left to do now was sit there glumly unwanted by either group.
He wished Quistis was here. She wouldn't have been so quick to eliminate him. Right? Apparently she had some after-hour class to run. The thought made Seifer feel strangely put out and dour. Wasn't he the only one she did after-hour lessons for?
Geez, that's some serious possessive crap there. Perish the thought.
The PA system chimed on, causing everyone to pause and look up as the headmaster's voice called out.
"Squall, Quistis, Xu. Report to the bridge please. Squall, Quistis, Xu, report to the bridge please."
Xu tutted and Squall grimaced, but both reluctantly got to their feet, their cards still laid out on the board. Xu shot a beady look at Seifer as they made their departure.
"Almasy, watch the game!" she ordered. "Make sure no one touches it. We'll be right back."
Seifer raised his eyebrows at her. They'd spent the last ten minutes telling him to be quiet, and now had the gall to ask him to look after their game? Then inspiration struck him and he replied breezily, "Sure."
As soon as they were out of range, Seifer chortled to himself and grabbed Xu's deck first, rifling through them carelessly. All high level monster cards, pretty impressive, but nothing particularly rare… He stopped at a character card. Xu's character card. An ace and a seven on opposite ends? Seifer snorted and flopped the deck back down, not bothering to line them up neatly, and reached for Squall's pile.
The Great Card King had much more flamboyant cards, though Seifer was surprised Squall kept a mixture of regular monster ones in there too. Ifrit, Sacred, Diablos and Minotaur were also present. Damn, he thought, impressed. He continued to flip through them, but to his disappointment couldn't find his own card. At the very last card Seifer paused again.
It was Quistis. 2, 9, 6, A… not bad.
Then, on a whim, Seifer looked up. Casting a quick cursory glance, he slipped Quistis' card out of the deck and placed it in his pocket. He was putting down the rest of Squall's deck when footsteps sounded right behind him, and he realised too late that this person would have seen him take the card.
Looking up and arranging his face into a not-so-guilty expression, he saw Rinoa approaching. She gave him a loaded look, confirming she had seen his little theft.
"I won't tell Squall if you tell," was her sing-song greeting.
Seifer frowned, baffled. "Why the heck would I tell him?" he asked incredulously. "Is this your way of cultivating honesty in me? A bit late for that."
Rinoa rolled her eyes, sitting down beside him placidly. "I don't mean tell Squall. I mean you tell Quistis." She threw him a significant look. Seifer was completely at sea.
"Tell her what?"
She sighed dramatically, smacking a hand against her forehead. "I'll give you a few weeks to get there, Seifer. But when you do, you have to tell her."
Seifer had no freaking idea what she was on about, so he just shrugged at her.
So that was the story of how he 'won' back Quistis' card. Seifer was rather proud of himself but didn't have the chance to present it to her until a couple of days later at their allotted baking lesson.
Maybe Quistis was feeling generous, or perhaps he really was doing so well with his pageant prep, but she actually agreed to use one of their evening sessions to bake instead. "I said I had to teach you," Seifer said seriously, to which she just nodded and said, "Alright then," with very little fight.
"Wow," the instructor said in awe when Seifer led her into the communal kitchen adjacent to the cafeteria. "I've never been in here."
"I guess there's not really a reason to. And you probably have extra food in that elitist instructor staff room anyway." The cafeteria was open till 9PM and always had sandwiches, fresh fruit and onigiri (if one was quick enough) to grab if students were running it close to curfew. Then, if anyone was desperate for snacks, there were several vending machines to choose from. The kitchen didn't have any ready-made food (apart from some fruit and vegetables) and was really only stocked with basic staples. Some students used it to make smoothies or if they were into meal prepping or following a very specific diet like low-carb and wanted to make their own meals.
Seifer placed a plain box on top of the counter. Quistis was amused and impressed to learn that he kept a caddy of extra baking supplies like chocolate chips ("The good kind, not the homebrand hydrogenated vegetable fat crap") and baking paper ("Because you don't wanna spray oil over
everything").
Seeing the items Seifer was pulling out of the box, as well as the spacious kitchen counter and the large mixing bowl and baking tray, sparked a youthful vibrancy in Quistis. It had been awhile since she was giddy about something, like the excitement that fluttered the night before camp or attending her first SeeD ball.
She grinned across at Seifer, "Alright, let's do this!"
He couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm, tossing an apron at her. "Sure, Trepe."
They measured and mixed while also arguing about the most efficient way to decimate the Grat population. It made for a nice change, Seifer being the one in charge and the know-how. He had the feeling Quistis didn't get many opportunities to just be the carefree learner, allowed to make inconsequential mistakes like measuring with the incorrect spoon and forgetting to cream the butter and sugar before adding the flour.
At last they had the mixture ready and Seifer scooped some out of the bowl. "Here."
Quistis wrinkled her nose. "You just eat it raw?"
"It's the best this way. You have to have a try." Seifer held the spatula out to her expectantly. She didn't look too sure.
"Is it… safe?"
"Yep. Come on, you haven't really made cookies until you've eaten the dough raw."
Quistis hesitated, then with an impulsive smile she took a hold of the spatula and pulled it towards her, licking it. And even though Seifer had been the one to cajole her to do it, he was still taken aback.
All too soon she had released the spatula and was grinning up at him. "It does taste good!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand as she ate.
Seifer swallowed, forcing his voice to be even as he continued to stir the mixture. "Told you so." He scraped the batter out onto the board, gesturing at her.
"Knead the dough a bit. It'll help the gluten strands form."
"You really know the ins and outs of this," Quistis commented as she began pressing the batter with her fingertips. Seifer eyed her tentative actions and made a tutting noise.
"That's not how you do it. Let me show you." Without thinking he stepped behind her, reaching over her to handle the dough with his hands. "You've got to fold it over and mash it a bit. You try it now."
Quistis was frozen, and too late, Seifer realised he was standing right over her, his chest pressed against her back, her bottom nestled against his hips. Suddenly he became hyper aware of his surroundings: the hum of the oven, the faint sweet scent of vanilla and butter, the smooth column of her neck as she tilted her head to look back at him - he was seized by an intense desire to brush away the strands of hair that draped down as she moved -
BEEP!
Seifer jumped backwards as if he'd received an electric shock, and Quistis straightened up with a cough, tucking back the hair he'd been milliseconds from touching. He shot an alarmed look at the oven which had just, of course, reached the desired temperature he'd preset.
"Like this?" asked Quistis timidly, kneading the dough. She wasn't looking at him.
"Uh - yeah," muttered Seifer. He cleared this throat awkwardly, heart racing. What the hell? He couldn't screw his head on straight, and this seemed to be happening too frequently lately. "Don't over knead it though," he cautioned in a stronger voice. "That's how you get hard cookies."
Several minutes later, when his pulse was not fluttering erratically and had been restored back to a steady rhythm, Seifer showed her how to use an ice cream scoop to get an equal amount of mixture for each cookie. He let her take over after the first few scoops, taking care to keep a wide berth between their bodies.
"This is quite nice, baking," Quistis mused, pressing down each cookie onto the baking tray. "I can see why you like it."
He pulled a face, starting the cleaning up process at the sink. "I don't like it, per se. It's just a handy skill to have."
"There's nothing wrong with a guy liking baking," Quistis said earnestly. "Seifer, you are challenging all kinds of gender norms already. You can admit you like making cookies and brownies."
Seifer shrugged a shoulder. "Well, what do you want to do?"
An embarrassed expression caught her face and it was a moment before Quistis said noncommittally, "I… I don't really know."
"Yeah you do. C'mon, spit it out," Seifer ordered. "You already know my deepest darkest baking hobby."
She fiddled with the edge of the tray, not meeting his eyes. "I… I want to make bento boxes," she eventually murmured.
"Like… lunch boxes?"
"Yes." Quistis straightened up and looked at him, sheepish yet determined. "They always look so pretty and thoughtful. I'd like to make one."
"What's stopping you? Don't say you don't have any time. You make time for these things."
"I don't know. Maybe I don't know who to make one for? Seems a bit indulgent to make it for myself."
"Hell, making it for yourself is the best reason to do it," said Seifer emphatically.
A small smile played at the corner of her mouth as she considered this. "Maybe you're right."
With the air of someone detonating a bomb, Quistis placed the tray of cookies into the oven with mitt-covered hands. Then, as they waited for them to bake, she helped dry the bowls and utensils after Seifer had washed them.
The kitchen air was soon thick with the tantalisingly sweet and warm smell of baked cookies. When the timer went off, Seifer removed the tray and placed them on a wire rack while Quistis peered hopefully around his shoulder (he wished she wouldn't; her standing close to him made his stupid pulse splutter again) and rejoiced at how perfect they looked. Her face lit up after her first bite into a warm, chewy, chocolate-filled cookie, and Seifer flashed a charming grin back at her as if to say, "Told you so."
They stayed there for a while, probably eating too many of them, with Quistis sat up on the counter and Seifer leaned up against it.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Quistis exclaimed suddenly, hopping down. Seifer raised an eyebrow at her. She cleared her throat importantly, slipping a hand into her jeans pocket and declaring grandly, "I have something for you."
"What is it?" he asked, not entirely enthused. Knowing her it's probably a fact sheet about all the status changes a Malboro can inflict.
For answer Quistis produced a card with a smile, holding it right in front of him. For a split second, Seifer really did think it was a Malboro fact card, until he looked closer. No-frickin'-way. His heart skipped a beat and his breath hitched as he reached out and took the card.
It was his card. There was his face in all its handsome, brooding glory, the ace and nine in the bottom corner. A majestic sight. One he had not seen for so long.
Seifer looked up at her in disbelief. "You - you won it back for me?" he asked weakly.
Quistis nodded, pleased with his reaction. "Fair and square," she said brightly. "I didn't even have to lose anything too high-level to get it."
"Uh… um…" Seifer swallowed, at a loss for words. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Seifer was feeling rather fragile as if a puff of wind could blow him over, when he remembered what was in his pocket. The fragility immediately hardened like concrete and he broke into a cocky grin.
"Which reminds me, I have something for you too," he told her dramatically. "Are you ready?" Seifer pulled out her card with flourish and revelled in the way her eyes widened in shock.
Quistis gasped, almost reverently. "Seifer! You won it off Squall?"
"Nope," he said robustly. "I stole it the other day when he left his deck of cards out."
Her brows pulled together, her uplifted expression fell as she took in his cavalier words. "You - what?" she gasped again, this time sounding scandalised.
"I stole it. Are you going to say thank you?"
"Oh my goodness - no. Seifer, that's terrible!" Quistis held the card back out to him resolutely. "You have to give it back to him."
"What the - no way in hell," Seifer shook his head vigorously. "I stole that fair and square! I ain't giving it back."
"I can't keep this - it's dishonest. And he'll know," Quistis muttered in a nervous, feverish manner. "Every time we play, I'll think about this in my deck and he'll know I stole it!"
"You didn't steal it," said Seifer glibly. "I stole it. And just don't put it in your deck then. That's your rookie mistake, all of you. Putting your card out to play."
"It's sort of a bragging right," said Quistis haughtily. "You wouldn't get it."
"Ouch."
She continued to hold her card out to him, averting her eyes as if she couldn't even bear to look at it. "I can't hold onto this. I feel bad."
Seifer stuck out his lower lip, rather put out by her reaction. He'd been anticipating a much warmer reception.
"Well… how about this?" he suggested after a couple seconds' rumination. "I'll hold onto your card. You can hold onto mine. Squally boy will never know - he knows you won mine off him so it's not a surprise that you have it, and it's not like I'll ever play your card. And then you don't have to feel bad."
Quistis considered this for a second. "I still know you stole it," she said reproachfully.
"Stole what?" Seifer said flippantly, slipping her card into his front shirt pocket before placing his one into her hand. He winked at her. "Keep it safe, instructor."
Her mouth twitched but she reluctantly put his card back into her jeans pocket.
"Hmm. It won't take Squall long to put two and two together once he realises my card is missing…" she murmured. "He'll suspect you soon if he knows you were around at that time. Perhaps I'll lose Rinoa's card to him on purpose to pacify him…"
"Knew you'd come around to it, instructor."
With their bases well-covered, Quistis suggested they drop back down to two sessions a week instead of the four. She was busy trying to fix up Seifer's dresses anyway. She was no seamstress herself, but could handle a needle and thread and basic sewing having patched up holes and tears in her uniforms over the years. Taking in the bust of the dress was a more complicated project, but one she was willing to take on. Seifer gallantly offered to keep her company (it had been one of those moments the words had left his mouth before his mind could keep up), and Quistis had been surprised but didn't object to it.
So Seifer spent many of his evenings in Quistis' dorm, relaxing on her couch while she sat at the table and worked on his dress. At first she was wary that it would be awkward; what on earth would they talk about? But it turned out there was no shortage of dialogue and debates with Seifer. He was never polite or diplomatic about his opinions, and while this led to some shocked and scandalised reprimands, Quistis appreciated the illuminating conversations and refreshingly honest perspectives. Usually, after he ruthlessly questioned her some more and dug deeper past her culturally-trained niceties and social etiquette, she would concede that he actually had a good point.
Sometimes Seifer leafed through her romance novels, reading certain parts aloud in a revolted tone while Quistis defended the poetic descriptions and cheesy dialogue. At other times he sat there quietly reading and she smiled to herself, knowing he would never admit that he was invested. On Thursday nights the premier league was on, and so Seifer introduced her to the game of football which they would both watch, Quistis with increasing enthusiasm and knowledge of the sport.
"They're going to win the league," declared Quistis confidently. "The Anacondas."
"Says the rookie," he snickered. "There's no way. You might be in the know-how about hockey, but you don't know enough about the EPL. The Blobras have won three consecutive years."
"It's time for them to come down. Especially with a name like that."
"Sure. Wanna bet?"
"...Fine."
And so, strangely enough, Quistis found herself enjoying Seifer's presence in a way she'd never had with someone else before. It was a nice and cosy feeling as they sat there together in her room and she fumbled and fiddled over the stitching and hem of his dresses.
Predictably, after a ten minute stretch of silence, Quistis would usually glance over and find Seifer asleep. During her sessions, this would be her cue to snap at him, but Quistis found she didn't have the heart to wake him these days. Sometimes, she would get up from what she was doing and try tuck a cushion under his neck, marvelling at how peaceful he looked when he was asleep. He must have been really tired to keep nodding off in her room. Quistis suspected Seifer worked himself to the bone so that he didn't have time or energy to think about how he really was. She understood because she did this herself.
On the other side of things, Seifer was relieved to note that his heart and body was behaving itself and not being so damn erratic when in Quistis' company. There was still a random flutter in his gut, sometimes when she smiled at him or he caught her doing something thoroughly un-Quistis-like (like snorting with laughter at an ad on TV), but nothing that was too alarming.
"So you checked the bets?" Zell asked Seifer one night at the cafeteria. It was just the pair of them after a spontaneous wood work session making two step stools for the orphanage. This confirmed to Seifer that he really needed to get a new life, if he had enough time that he was willingly spending it with Chicken-wuss when he didn't even have to.
He nodded and smirked. "Yep. Last I saw, I was the favourite to win."
"Not anymore. Look here." Zell flicked through his phone and held it up across the table. "Squall: 8-to-1. Raijin and Nida, 12-to-1. Seifer, 18-to-1."
Seifer scowled in the face of this news. "Man, where's the loyalty? By the way, you still have your safety glasses, wuss."
Zell reached up at once to touch the offending item, whipping it off. "Ah, dammit! I need to go see Enid in five minutes too…"
"You finally finished your mating dance with her, have you?" chuckled Seifer, taking a swig of his drink.
Zell narrowed his eyes. "I'm just helpin' her out cataloguing the books, you ass."
"Interesting way to woo a girl, but whatever works for you, mate."
"Well, what are you doing?" Zell demanded indignantly.
Seifer arched an eyebrow. "I ain't doin' anythin'."
"Oh yeah?" Zell crossed his arms and leaned back, a smirk fixed upon his face. Seifer didn't like the look of it. He had no business looking so superior. "So you're sayin' you ain't doin' anythin' about this situationship with Quistis - "
"What the heck is a situationship?"
"It's like… when you're not friends, but you're not in a relationship."
"Like you and your library dame?"
"Don't change the subject, Almasy."
"When you're not friends and you're not in a relationship, you're an acquaintance, Dincht. That's what Trepe and I are. Saddled together for this damn pageant until it's over." Seifer said this all carelessly, hoping to remove that smug-ass look off Zell's face.
Zell just continued to look pointedly at him, and to make him stop Seifer averted his eyes and gruffed out, "I'll take the glasses back for you. I wanna go check if I put the safety switch back on the saw, anyway."
"Right… thanks."
Seifer couldn't quite get Zell's words out of his head as he made a quick detour to the woodwork room. Even as he thought about it, he felt a small twinge of loss knowing that this would be all over soon when the pageant was done. Up near the parking lot walkway he spotted a poster of Squall, looking serious and mysterious as usual.
8-1. Favourite to win. Gah.
Quickly checking no one was around, Seifer took out a marker and made some additions to Squall's picture. All improvements of course.
He stood back to admire his handiwork, the more innocent of which included a handlebar moustache. Much better.
Chuckling to himself, Seifer continued on his way, but the soft thump of music and lights on ahead made him pause. Shouldn't the woodwork room be empty and locked up? He'd watched Zell arm the lock panel before they'd both gone to the cafeteria for dinner.
Cautiously, Seifer stuck his head into the open doorway. Straight away he spotted Nida and Xu standing in the middle of the room, and it occurred to him that they must be using the space for their practice. They didn't notice him as Seifer looked on curiously. The bass of the music was thumping away - some sort of energetic, catchy pop song - and Nida was posing his body.
They must be dancing too, he realised. Ah, damn. Should I let Trepe know?
Then, banishing all other thoughts from his mind, Seifer stared in some kind of transfixed horror as Nida moved his body up and down in what could only be described as a sensual manner, before proceeding to place both hands on the back of his head and thrust.
Holy mother of Hyne.
…He's actually not bad.
Geez. What am I thinking.
"No, you need to try it like this." And to Seifer's even greater disturbance, if that was possible, Xu ushered Nida out of the way. In time with the music she began to squat low, low - oh Hyne too low - with her legs scandalously spread wide as she rolled back up, her hands sliding slowly up her thighs.
Seifer turned his head to the side and actually dry heaved. It did the convenient thing of tearing his eyes away from the monstrosity, but it also caught their attention. Xu's transformation from exotic dancer to rod-up-the-ass-militant was instantaneous. It was like watching a storm roll in.
"HEY!" she yelled, marching over towards him. Nida had looked over as well at the sound of Seifer's gag and had the decency to look abashed.
Oh shoot, gotta nope outta here.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Trying not to throw up my dinner."
"Are you spying on us? You can't be here. That's cheating. You better not get any ideas from us!"
"The only thing I'm scared of catching from you is an STI. Oh, crap!" Seifer ducked just out of the way in time as Xu's fist came flying within an inch of his arm. He danced away with a gleeful snicker as she tried to swipe at him, both arms outstretched as if desiring to strangle his neck.
"Screw you, Almasy!"
"Quit trying to touch me, you mutt. Quick, Nida, throw her a bone!"
"ARGH! Get - the - hell - out - of - here," snarled Xu, punctuating each word with more swipes at Seifer. "Don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone or I'll have your ass disqualified!"
"Like I ever want to repeat what I saw in here. Someone's gotta protect the children."
Still chortling at the whole ordeal, Seifer had one last glimpse of Xu's face incandescent with rage and her single shoe flying in his direction before he made haste his escape.
Hyne, I'm gonna need psychotherapy to erase that image.
He half-jogged to Quistis' dorm, occasionally checking over his shoulder to make sure Xu wasn't about to guerilla-warfare him.
His spirits soared to even greater heights when Seifer saw that Quistis had left the door open for him. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him that kind of trust. Not the trust of being a comrade-in-arms. Seifer had experienced plenty of that in the field since becoming a SeeD, and while it wasn't something he took lightly given his past, this feeling of being expected, of being welcome, of being depended on outside of a mission, was different.
Still, she shouldn't leave the door wide open like that. It's just gonna encourage those friggin' Trepies.
"Trepe," Seifer gasped out as soon as he stumbled inside, still shaking with mirth. "Holy moly, you'll never believe what I just saw in the woodwork room - "
He stopped short in his tracks. Quistis was sitting at her round table, his emerald green dress spread out beneath her. Her arms were folded under her head as she slept.
Sobering up immediately, Seifer edged closer to take a look. A sleeping Quistis Trepe was a fascinating subject.
A small part of him, the part closest to the ear she was always yanking when he dozed off in their sessions, was tempted to pull her hair or empty a bucket of water over her head. Something wonderful and glorious he would've done in the orphanage. Actually, he probably had done both things to her as kids. The thought made him smile.
But then Seifer gazed at her again, and some mushy part inside of him softened. Strands of golden hair had escaped the neat little twist it was always pinned up in and there was a bit of spittle at the corner of her mouth. He smirked. Some sleeping beauty. She was obviously exhausted if she'd fallen asleep at the table. While waiting for him.
Workaholic. She does too much. She needs to take it easy.
Yeah, retorted a voice in his head, And she spends what little downtime she does have trying to help you with this pageant. Asshole.
Seifer's smirk faded as he watched Quistis for a moment longer. Then, face set, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to her bedroom. She must have been really tired because she only mumbled and turned when he lay her in the bed and threw a blanket over her.
She needs to sleep. This can wait.
Seifer walked out of her dorm, hitting the panel to close the door. He double checked that it was locked as he left, keeping his eyes peeled as always for any damn Trepies lurking around.
