Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Tiptoe Through the Tulips
A One-shot by Ellipsis the Great
Summary: If there was one thing Hayner hadn’t been expecting for his birthday, it was Seifer. Fluffy Seiner. Commission fic.
DISCLAIMER: Kingdom Hearts and everything affiliated with it belongs to SquareEnix and Disney. All I own is the plot…
Rated: T because my boys like to cuss. A lot.
Dedication: To majesticlunacy for grabbing my free commish, and HakkyouHime for being awesome and unknowingly providing inspiration. And Juukai cause it's her birthday today.
Challenge: A fic where Seifer ISN’T an asshole the entire time. Oh, dear.

If there was one thing Hayner hadn’t been expecting for his birthday, it was Seifer.
He had expected the ‘surprise’ party the day before, the knock to the back of his head (compliments of his best friend, Roxas) that sent him face-first into the huge, Struggle Bat-shaped birthday cake (which he had also expected), and even the ‘Happy Birthday’ text at the ass-crack of dawn from Roxas’ sadistic fuck of a boyfriend, Axel.
But he definitely, certainly, and most assuredly had not expected Seifer to be the one ringing his doorbell, a very, very light blush darkening his cheeks around his customary scowl. And he was dressed nicely…or, well, semi-nicely, with an un-tucked white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and almost tight jeans. And his beanie was, as far as Hayner could tell, gone.
So, naturally, Hayner had blinked (twice…three times) in surprise, and then slammed the door shut in Seifer’s still awkwardly scowling face.
“Not today, Seifer.” He snapped through the door.
“Who was that, sweetie?” His mom asked, from the kitchen, where she was cooking one of Hayner’s favorite dishes (beer battered chicken) for lunch.
“Jehovah’s Witness.” He replied with only slightly forced cheer (not even the self-proclaimed leader of the Disciplinary Committee could bring his mood too far down on his birthday) as he joined her in the kitchen. He sat down on a bar stool, leaning his face on one hand as he watched her cook.
His mother giggled, glancing up at him from the chicken she was battering, then cocked her head to one side. “Well, this one’s awfully persistent—he’s at the window.”
Hayner twisted around on the stool, mouth falling open as he found Seifer glaring at him through the nearly wall-to-wall window that allowed them to look out from their dining room, which was separated from the kitchen only by the little island he was currently seated at. Seifer, now looking distinctly annoyed, pointed a finger demandingly a the ground, mouthing the words ‘get your ass out here right now, lamer.’
“Are you sure he’s a Jehovah’s Witness, sweetie?” His mom asked with a little giggle.
He ignored her in favor of waving Seifer away, mouthing ‘Fuck off, asshole.’
“Oh, look! He has a gift! And a picnic basket!” His mom said as she hurriedly washed her hands, her tone caught halfway between amused and scolding as she continued. “Shame on you, Hayner—obviously he’s one of your little friends come to take you out for a birthday lunch! Jehovah’s Witness!”
Hayner muttered something but didn’t try to stop her (if there was one thing he had learned in all of his seventeen years of living, it was that arguing with his mother was not only a stupid idea, it was also potentially life-threatening) as she opened the door and ushered Seifer in, gushing over the small, book-shaped gift and large picnic basket he held in either hand.
“Thank you, Mrs. Duncan.” Seifer said with a bright, charming smile that looked creepy and out of place. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal your son for the afternoon.”
“Of course not!” She said, already packaging up the nearly-prepared chicken. “I can just leave this for dinner, Hayner, you go have fun with your little friend, okay?”
“Mom, I don’t want to—” Hayner began.
“Be back by eight.” His mom said, a dangerous, don’t-argue-with-me undertone in her otherwise sugary voice. “You’re welcome to join us…I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name, dear?”
“Seifer Almasy, ma’am.” Seifer replied, still smiling. “And only if it isn’t any trouble.”
Hayner gaped at his usually crude rival, one eye twitching just a little. The asshole was playing his mom like a fucking violin!
“No trouble at all, Seifer, dear.” His mom said, practically shoving Hayner off of his stool. “You never mentioned you had such a well-mannered friend, Hayner! And so sweet!”
“Because I don’t.” Hayner grumbled under his breath.
“You two have fun!” His mom said as she shooed them out of the door. “Dinner should be ready at about eight, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll have him back by then.” Seifer promised with a cheerful wave.
“What in the fuck are you trying to pull?” Hayner hissed as soon as his mother had shut the door.
“The fuck does it look like, chickenwuss?” Seifer said, raising the two objects in his hands. “Birthday present. Picnic basket. Surely you aren’t that stupid!”
“Why in the hell are you taking me on a fucking picnic for my birthday?” He asked.
“I lost a bet with Fuu.” Seifer snapped back.
Flushing angrily, Hayner stopped walking, forcefully restraining himself from stomping his foot like a petulant five year old. “Are you fucking serious?” He practically screeched. “Oh, fuck this, I’m going home!”
“If you go home now your mom’ll flip a shit.” Seifer said, somehow managing to grab his hand. “Just come on—no fighting, I promise.”
Hayner glared at him suspiciously.
“I can go a whole day without fighting, y’know, lamer.” Seifer said, his customary smirk finally returning to his face. “I can even be nice.”
“I saw.” Hayner jerked his hand away and stuffed it and his other one into their respective pockets, trying to ignore the way the one Seifer had just been holding was tingling.
“Good. Come on.” Seifer nodded his head toward Sunset Hill. “Up there.”
Frowning—well, pouting—at his unusually sedate foe, Hayner followed him at a leisurely pace up to the beautiful hill that overlooked the entire town.
Seifer grunted at him warningly when he started to sit down on the grass, setting his two burdens down and opening the picnic basket. He pulled a large, red-and-white checkered blanket out of it and spread it across the ground, ignoring Hayner’s amused snort.
“Sit down.” Seifer said tersely, flopping down and glaring up at him as if daring him to do anything else.
Hayner rolled his eyes but sat down, watching with poorly concealed curiosity as Seifer began pulling things out of the basket—sandwiches, chips, sodas, a salad, pretzels, popcorn, and a Tupperware container filled with…something brown.
“What on earth is that?” Hayner asked, pointing at the container.
Seifer glanced at it, and Hayner’s eyebrows rose as the gruff older teen’s cheeks turned a bright red. “’S fudge.”
Hayner’s eyebrows furrowed. “Fudge?”
“Homemade.” Seifer added. “That fat lard you hang out with said you liked chocolate.”
“Don’t call Pence that!” He growled, more out of impulse than anything else—he was really too surprised to actually articulate any other response.
Seifer didn’t answer, shoving a sandwich into Hayner’s hands before grabbing his own, opening it without preamble, and taking a vicious bite out of one corner.
“Homemade?” Hayner finally managed as he followed Seifer’s example. “Like…you made it?”
“That’s what homemade means, ain’t it?” Seifer asked, still impossibly red.
“Okay so…so let me get this straight.” Hayner said. “You lost a bet with Fuu. And so you…you made us lunch, and apparently asked people what I like because this sandwich is fucking perfect, and you made fudge? And you bought me a present?”
“I wouldn’t waste money on you.” Seifer said, fidgeting.
“What, so you made that, too?” Hayner asked. “Or…is it for someone else?” Because Seifer would do something like that, the bastard.
“Of course it isn’t…I wouldn’t do something like that!” Seifer sputtered.
Liar.
Hayner gave him a dry look.
“I wouldn’t.” Seifer insisted, then grew frustrated with the look Hayner persisted in giving him, picking the present up and throwing it gruffly into Hayner’s chest.
Hayner let out a small, surprised sound, mostly because the box wasn’t nearly as heavy as its size indicated.
“There. Just fucking open it if you don’t believe me.” Seifer said.
Hayner hummed distractedly, not needing to be told twice; a present was a present, after all. And then his eyes widened as he finally ripped away the last of the paper and opened the box therein.
“Your old one looks like shit.” Seifer mumbled as Hayner lifted the thick leather bracelet out of its box.
“It’s even got my initials engraved on it.” Hayner said softly, in awe. “You…you made this?”
“I took a leather-working class.” Seifer said.
“Yeah, but…wow.” Hayner said. Then, suddenly suspicious, he frowned at his companion. “I thought all of this was for a bet? How long ago did you fucking lose, dude?”
“That…wasn’t part of the bet.” Seifer admitted hesitantly. “Just…just the picnic.”
“But then…what’s this for?” He asked.
“Your birthday, dumbass.” Seifer said vaguely.
“Seriously.” He said.
“Ah.” Seifer gulped, his face turning an even brighter red. “Well, I might…sort of…like you…a lot…er, more than I theoretically should, I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking everywhere except at Hayner’s astonished face. “And I might have…y’know…made that for you…to, uh, give to you while I confessed.”
“So…” Hayner’s mouth twitched ever so slightly upwards. “This is you confessing?”
“I…uh, I guess so.” Seifer said, his words taking on a slightly questioning tone.
“Right.” Hayner said. “Well, you suck at it.”
Seifer’s head snapped up, expression torn between furious and heartbroken.
“You’re supposed to be, like, nice when you confess to someone.” Hayner continued. “And up until now you’ve been a complete asshole.”
Seifer looked down again, muttering something about bad habits.
“But, y’know, I might not mind that.” Hayner said, unable to keep the grin off of his face any longer. “In fact, I might kind of like it when you’re an asshole. More than I theoretically should, I mean. Because maybe I think it’s kind of cute when you go from being all nasty to awkward in a single sentence.”
Seifer glanced up at him, eyes widening as Hayner lurched forward onto his hands and kissed him chastely before leaning back and pulling his old wristband (which was, in fact, on the verge of death) off and slipping the new one (almost the exact same color brown as the old one, but just a little thinner, with shiny brass snaps and his initials expertly embossed across the front) on.
“Thanks.” Hayner said. “This was…all of it was…really, really…perfect.”
Seifer tried to grunt, but the sound came out as more of a squeak, his eyes still wide. Then he scowled.
“If I’d known you’d thank me like that I wouldn’t have fucking lost that stupid bet!” He said irritably, glaring at nothing in particular.
“What?” Hayner asked. “The bet was…what?”
“Fuu bet me I wouldn’t give you that bracelet—and confess—before your birthday. And she said if I didn’t I had to fucking ‘wine and dine’ you.” He said, obviously outraged. “But every time I tried you fucking pissed me off so damn bad—”
Hayner tried to stop it—really, he did—but he couldn’t quite fight against the laughter bubbling up in his throat, so it burst out with such force that he rocked back a little, arms going around his middle.
“Quit fucking laughing, chickenwuss, it’s not funny!” Seifer said, tackling him.
They rolled around for a while, kicking food all over the place before they finally rolled off of the blanket and onto the grass. And then Hayner was shoved into the fence, back arching away from it instinctively—and this, naturally enough, meant he had arched right into Seifer.
Seifer made a strangled sound, pulling away. This time, both of them were blushing.
“Y’okay?” Seifer asked.
Hayner nodded, rubbing his back and grateful when he didn’t find any splinters. “Yeah. And it was funny. You’re such a retard.”
“Oi.” Seifer said, standing and brushing himself off before thrusting a hand at Hayner. “Shove it, lamer, or I’ll fucking cut you.”
Hayner giggled as he took Seifer’s hand, startled when he was yanked roughly to his feet, the both of them going back to the blanket but not really bothering to clean up beyond just getting everything out of the way enough that they could sit down.
“I’m glad you lost, though.” Hayner said, scooting a little closer to Seifer. “This was…great.” He leaned into Seifer, hoping his blush wasn’t quite as bright as it felt. “Thanks, Seifer.”
“Yeah.” Seifer said, back to being awkward and shy now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “You’re welcome.”
“I was right.” Hayner said as he looked up at Seifer with a rather lascivious grin. “You really are cute when you go from angry to awkward.”
Seifer huffed a little—he was not fucking cute—but just reached up and put his arm around Hayner, reaching around with his other arm until he found the Tupperware bowl. “Here. Eat your damn chocolate.”
Hayner did, proclaiming himself ruined for any other kind of fudge—and wondering why in the fuck he’d never tried befriending/dating Seifer before—and teasing Seifer’s blush again until the larger boy pushed him to the ground again.
This time, though, they were both laughing. And there was no rolling around, just laughter that lasted even after their sides hurt and they could hardly breathe. Finally, though, it trickled down into the occasional chuckle.
“Happy birthday, lamer.” Seifer said, rolling onto his side and throwing an arm and a leg around Hayner.
“The fuck’er you doin’?” Hayner asked, more surprised than upset about the action.
“Shut up. ‘M tired.” Seifer mumbled. “Had t’ get up too damn early to make that stupid fucking fudge, so the least you can do is shut up and lemme sleep for a while.”
Hayner laughed again, bringing a hand up to run through Seifer’s hair. He started saying something, but a soft snore from the head using his chest as a pillow made him stop. Grinning widely, Hayner lifted his free arm—which just so happened to be the one with his birthday present on it—and admired the bangle on his wrist. The one that Seifer had made. He ducked his head a little, grin stretching wider as he let his arm fall back to the ground and dropped a light kiss on the top of Seifer’s head. Seifer grumbled nonsensically in his sleep, hand fisting in the material of Hayner’s vest.
Hayner ruffled Seifer’s hair, surprised at how thick and stiff it was; not at all soft like Hayner’s (when it wasn’t gelled all to hell) or greasy like one would think after all that time spent under a beanie. It tickled his chin a little.
“Thanks, Seifer.” He said. Then, carefully, he pulled out his cell phone and set the alarm on it, tossing it to the other side of the blanket and closing his eyes as the warm kiss of the sun and the gentle breathing of his newfound boyfriend began lulling him to sleep. “Mom’s gonna kill us if we’re late for dinner.”
And even though they woke up before the alarm…
Well, they were late.

The End