Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ You Can Lead a Horse ( Chapter 27 )

Chapter Twenty-Seven

You Can Lead a Horse

 

Irvine and Selphie had been acting strangely, more so than usual. Squall was beginning to feel uncomfortable and slightly suspicious. The entire walk to Dollet consisted of furtive glances at himself.

 

If he didn't have full confidence in the fact that his two choices in party members would disregard all matters in light of a mission, then he would have been inclined to ask what was going on. As it was, he was a bit annoyed by it, but could ignore it as easily as he ignored most other things.

 

Rui, on the other hand, was acting indifferent to both Selphie and Irvine. The boy was more than a little upset at the ride on Ragnarok. The moment they had walked off the ramp, the young thief had knelt on the ground and rejoiced at being on solid footing again.

 

So the five of them walked through the streets in a group. Selphie and Irvine casting glances at Squall and sometimes Seifer, while Rui glared at Irvine and Selphie.

 

Had it not been for the slightly chaotic setting then they would have made headlines no sooner than stepping within Dollet's boundary.

 

As a precaution, when they moved further towards the heart of the city, Squall and Seifer took the lead. Rui trailed behind as far as he could manage without losing sight of either the brunet or blonde. It wasn't that the boy didn't know the way, but being back in Dollet and having disclosed information about Epson had its risks. So, staying within sight of those he could call out to for help was a safety matter. As for the gunman and energetic pilot, they trailed further behind, keeping their eye on Rui.

 

With their group scattered, they blended in with the crowd well enough. Only once did Seifer and Squall have to duck into a random alleyway to escape the prowling eyes of a cameraman.

 

For an apprehensive minute, Squall halted his steps just outside The Harold.

 

With one booted foot on the first of several steps, Seifer turned back and looked to the brunet with a questioning glance.

 

When Squall just frowned and stared at the ground in reverie, Seifer almost laughed. It had taken him a moment to realize why the brunet was stalling. “Daddy dearest can't be that bad,” he consoled.

 

Sardonically, Squall looked at Seifer. Obviously the knight hadn't been around his father enough to understand. Running a hand through his choppy hair, he took a steadying breath. It was ridiculous that he was so reluctant to walk through that door. Even with a pressing time frame, he was procrastinating. That alone was testament to just how awkward his relation with his father was. It was more than a likely that they would never have a normal relationship.

 

Shaking his head at his ridiculous behavior, Squall moved forward. However, another thought struck him just before Seifer opened the door. Grabbing the blonde's arm, Squall looked into green eyes earnestly. “Whatever Laguna does, don't make him feel bad.”

 

“Come on Princess, I've already made a good impression. I have met the guy before.” Seifer replied with a grin.

 

“I remember.” Squall recalled the slightly sarcastic comments Seifer had made during the meal. Thankfully, the blonde had said them too low for Laguna to hear, since they were at the caring man's expense. “He means well enough, so just let him be.” For the life of him, Squall didn't know why he was even bothering. For whatever reason, he didn't want to see those caring eyes of his father look hurt. Everyone understood that Laguna did things in an unconventional manner, but Seifer could be cold when it came to such matters.

 

“I promise to play nice,” Seifer stated flatly, with a tone implying appeasement.

 

“You will, or I won't sleep with you again,” Squall threatened, brushing past Seifer. Wrenching open the door, he stalked in.

 

Shocked, Seifer stood still. `He wouldn't,' his mind affirmed, `would he?' If Squall had been abstinent for eighteen years, there was no telling what the brunet might do. “Squall?” he called out, hurriedly following the brunet.

 

Just inside the small alcove of The Harold's entryway, Squall couldn't help but give a smile at hearing his name called out. It might be fun to have this sort of control over the blonde.

 

Stepping further into the bar, he had only enough time to see that the place was empty before his vision was obscured within the folds of a light blue dress shirt. Adjusting his head, he rested his chin over Laguna's shoulder, not wanting to suffocate. At full height he wasn't much shorter than the longhaired president, however when his head was being pressed down, it was difficult to stand up straight.

 

“I'm fine,” he assured, gray-blue eyes scanning the room. The place was vacant, just as he'd initially thought. Kiros was standing near the bar counter, leaning casually against the polished wood. Mike, the ex-Galbadian soldier, was drying a mug with a white linen rag all the while smirking with pent up laughter.

 

After the first couple minutes, Squall stared lamely forward, his body effectively pinned within the crushing arms of a longhaired, goofball president. When Laguna hadn't relented the hold in the least, and actually went so far as to stroke his hair, he desperately looked to Kiros. Gesturing with his eyes he begged, `Get this lunatic off me.'

 

Dark eyes sparkled with amusement. Kiros shook his head silently. While his heart reached out to the Commander, he found the entire display most amusing. Besides, there was no swaying his stubborn companion. If Laguna wanted to hug his son, then that's exactly what was going to happen. Normally, it wouldn't have been a problem, except for the little fact that Squall Leonhart was the son in the situation.

 

Eventually, Laguna seemed to register that Squall was squirming to break away.

 

Stepping back quickly, as if afraid of having a repeated hug, Squall hissed out, “I told you, I'm fine.”

 

Seifer, who had been clenching his fists through the uncalled for fatherly greeting, took his place at Squall's side. Hovering closely, his presence assured no repeated performances. Although, if letting the President hug Squall meant having sex with the bright-eyed brunet, then he was willing to compromise.

 

Sighing, Squall crossed his arms and leaned to the side slightly. His chosen direction to lean towards just so happened to be nearer to Seifer. Their shoulders brushed, or rather his shoulder brushed Seifer's upper arm. The comforting reassurance that washed over him was surprising. Without even having to confirm it, he knew the blonde would prevent any more physical contact between himself and his father.

 

It might have been cruel, but Squall had never been a very touchy feely person. In fact, he was at the other end of the spectrum on all accounts of social interaction. It was a wonder how Laguna could possibly be his father, when they differed so extremely in most every matter.

 

Still, he had some attachment to the idea of having a parent. How could he not have? He'd grown up wondering and wishing. Although, by the time he was twelve, he'd pretty much given up hope and often times felt anger about it. But now, even if he didn't love Laguna or like the guy very much, he would continue to try and forge some bond.

 

Taxingly, that bond required his patient acceptance of the ex-soldier's friendly manner.

 

Taking another moment to steel himself, Squall sighed, and carried on with the informal meeting. “I'm perfectly fine.”

 

Concerned green-hazel eyes looked at him imploringly. “It might be post traumatic. You should see a doctor…”

 

“I've already been officially discharged,” Squall interjected. Did any of his accomplishments in his eighteen years of life mean anything? Could people think so little of him as to imply he hadn't even seen a doctor? It was frustrating.

 

Perceptively, Kiros watched the pained emotions that escaped the carefully maintained façade of Laguna's son. The boy was a far cry from the man his father was. No less honorable or commendable in any respect, just terribly conflicting to the president's own specific type of personality.

 

Walking from the bar, he patted his friend on the back, consoling an uncertain father. “The boy looks healthy enough. There's nothing to worry about.”

 

“I know that,” Laguna pouted, more in defense than for the actual observation.

 

Kiros seemed immune to all of Laguna's little quirks, and carried on as though nothing had happened. Turning to Squall, he asked, “Why are we meeting here?”

 

Shaking his head, Squall ignored the question. It wasn't relevant where they met, what mattered was why they met. “Laguna,” he couldn't help the fraction of a pause he gave when seeing his father wince at being called by name, “There needs to be a public statement issued from Esthar. With Fenrir dead, this is going to come crashing down on our heads.”

 

It was understood that the `this', which Squall was referring to, was the recently signed Balamb-Esthar Alliance, the missile launched, and Fenrir's death. It was a broad `this'. As Commander of Balamb Garden, he would stand behind the agreement one hundred percent, but he would do everything he could to avoid a colossal misunderstanding that was sure to happen with the events of the past day.

 

Chuckling, Laguna smiled at the young Commander before saying, “You sound just like Kiros.”

 

A small nod from the lanky man beside Laguna told Squall that they were both of the same mindset.

 

Kiros didn't say anything further until it was obvious that Squall was waiting to hear their plan of action. “We've already been in contact with the press. The statement will be released with papers tomorrow, and there is a conference scheduled this evening.”

 

“And what of Fenrir?” Squall asked, not knowing off the top of his head who would be taking over as Governor of Dollet.

 

“The conference will oversee the induction of Thomas Clarmont, a senior counsel member of the Parliament and Chief Magistrate,” Kiros said smoothly.

 

The door opened again, and three arguing bodies filled the alcove.

 

“Where the hell did you get this kid?” Irvine asked, pushing Rui ahead so the boy stumbled a few steps.

 

Sidling up to Squall, Rui clasped a hand to the worn leather sleeve of the brunet's jacket and tried to look as innocent as possible.

 

“Rui,” Squall began, turning steely eyes down on the boys spiky dark hair, “What did you do?”

 

“Nothin' honest,” Rui defended, giving a small tug on the sleeve as if begging to be believed.

 

Huffing, Selphie started in, “Hey, how can you lie to Squall?”

 

Holding a gloved hand up, Squall silenced Selphie. “Lying isn't about the person you tell it to,” he reminded before turning his attention back to Rui. Kneeling lower, he brought himself level to the young boy's height. Looking sternly into dark eyes, he held the gaze briefly before speaking, “Did you at least give it back?”

 

Dark brown eyes widened and the innocent look was dropped along with a slightly gaping mouth. “Can you read my mind?”

 

“Answer the question,” Squall replied. His tone wasn't reprimanding or patronizing, but it held no room for argument.

 

“Well, the lady was so careless she practically deserved to have it taken,” Rui broke down and tried to defend his actions.

 

“Did you return it yet?” The look on Squall's face almost implied boredom, but his voice held a sincerity that conveyed just how much he cared. It was perhaps the most difficult part to disguise. In his experience, people's ears tended to pick up more than the eyes. He could always look uncaring and cold, but he couldn't always sound it.

 

Hands on hips, Rui complained, “Marlboro man over there made me.”

 

Seifer laughed, earning a glare from the kneeling brunet. Rolling his green eyes he gestured for Squall to continue.

 

“Need I remind you that you are now a first year student in my Garden?” Lowering his voice, Squall spoke so only Rui could hear, “You're not just a thief anymore.” Standing straight again, Squall ran a hand through his hair. “If it happens again, it'll be a week of detention with Raijin.”

 

Seifer smirked at the uncertain look on Rui's face. “That would be the friend of mine you met before.”

 

“No,” the boy stated abruptly, turning his eyes to Squall imploringly.

 

“Then we are in agreement,” Squall stated. Considering the matter resolved, he returned attention to the rest of the group.

 

Seifer felt his mood lighten a bit. Back in Mike's bar, where there was always good food, the supposedly disastrous situation with Fenrir wasn't so disastrous after all, and Squall was free for the night. He didn't even seem to hate the thieving brat as much. Although, that might have been because the kid had just gotten in trouble.

 

The day was certainly going better than he'd expected. Now, he just had to stay on Squall's good side. Or, was it on Laguna's good side so that he'd inadvertently be on the brunet's good side? Regardless, he was in a happy mood.

 

Clapping a hand to Squall's back, he urged the slender man to move further in. “Mike,” he called out. The older barman had disappeared through the swinging door just a moment ago. “Is our food almost ready?” he asked, knowing the genius to the barman's methods.

 

Selphie walked forward, trailing after Squall with much confusion on her face. “Squall, what's going on?”

 

Turning his head towards the boundless ball of joy, Squall gave her questioning look.

 

Skipping to follow beside the Commander, Selphie cast a furtive glance at the blonde knight who was currently directing Squall to a table. There were too many questions to be asked and not nearly enough chance that Squall would answer them all. “Rui stole a wallet from some poor old lady and you don't seem surprised. And, that guy who was just behind the bar was the same guy I saw with you when the wave was going to hit.”

 

Scooting into a long curved booth, Squall stared off pensively. After thinking on the matter, he decided that he really didn't have any right to disclose details on Rui's past. And, the idea of telling Selphie that he and Seifer had spent the night in the very bar they were in now wasn't too appealing. “Sometimes it's just not necessary to know everything.”

 

Pouting her bottom lip she gave her best puppy dog look.

 

“I, for one, am rather curious about what you've been up to the passed few days,” a low toned voice drawled. Tilting his hat back, Irvine stared into guarded gray-blue eyes.

 

Happily content to be eating another meal with his son, Laguna scooted around the long curved seating area next to Squall. Expectantly, the older man waited for his dark skinned companion to follow suit.

 

With a sigh, Kiros sat beside Laguna. Getting information out of this group was like pulling teeth. Either they didn't talk or another problem arose to interrupt.

 

Glaring daggers at the Cowboy, Seifer made to take his place on his charge's right side. Before he could close the distance, Rui popped up from underneath the table. With deft ease, the boy slid up and into the seat beside Squall.

 

If they didn't need the boy to get closer to Epson, then Seifer would have killed him. At least the kid wasn't running that loud mouth off. Probably just humble enough to know when to shut up.

 

Seifer didn't want to draw attention to his specific displeasure at not being able to sit beside Squall. It was bad enough that he couldn't rid himself of the desire to have his hands all over the brunet, but he couldn't very well give into it. Not to mention the suspicious glances that the Messenger Girl and Cowboy had been giving him and his new sex kitten. He knew of the sharpshooter's reputation, so there was no doubt that the man had already pieced together what was going on. For the sake of not making it plain as day to Tilmitt, he'd refrain from stealing gropes, which meant letting the thieving brat sit beside the Commander.

 

Groaning in frustration, Selphie dropped the sad look and sulked. Grumpily she reached up and grabbed Irvine's hat, which was no small feat, given her height.

 

“Hey darlin', you know the rules,” Irvine chastised, brushing the tail of his auburn hair from his shoulder.

 

“I'm in a grumpy mood, this makes me happy,” was all the answer she supplied before pushing Irvine into the booth.

 

Reluctantly, Irvine allowed himself to be directed, though he wasn't the least bit happy with sitting next to Seifer.

 

Donning the cowboy hat, which rode low on her head, Selphie sidled up beside Irvine. Being further away from Squall gave her a better view of the brunet. Ever since they'd debarked Ragnarok, she'd been trying to stare at the Commander. Naturally Squall noticed everything and she couldn't do it very inconspicuously.

 

“Hey, Tilmitt,” Seifer said conspiratorially.

 

Both Squall and Selphie regarded the blonde with similar expressions of apprehension.

 

Leaning forward, Seifer gestured towards the closed door of the kitchen behind the bar. Light brown hair bounced, as the girl turned her head swiftly towards the direction he gestured, and then back. The hat she wore nearly spun sideways with the movement.

 

With his green eyes alight with mischief, Seifer whispered, “I think Mike could use a hand in the kitchen.”

 

“Cooking?” Selphie asked immediately, turning again to stare at the closed door.

 

“Yup,” the knight answered.

 

Selphie's eyes sparkled and she turned a pleading gaze to Squall. “Can I? Can I? Can I?” she asked in quick succession.

 

Squall's initial reaction was to tell her she couldn't, but then he recalled the new nickname he'd acquired with thanks to the older ex-soldier. “Just don't set anything on fire.”

 

“Whoo-hoo!” Selphie cried, jumping from the booth and bolting to the counter. In one leap, she levied herself over the polished counter and disappeared through the door.

 

Neither Laguna nor Kiros seemed to know what had just transgressed. It wasn't until the sounds of pots and pans clattering loudly that they began to get some idea.

 

“Almasy you little ingrate,” Mike's deep voice bellowed out before the door to the kitchen even opened. With a harsh slam, the door swung open and the older man's stout form filled the doorway.

 

“I thought you could use some help,” Seifer said with a grin.

 

“Anything she breaks goes on your tab,” the older man countered before turning back.

 

Though amused, Squall didn't show it. He sat impassive, wondering how much trouble one girl could cause.

 

Irvine let out a hearty chuckle. Slouching back, the auburn haired gunman listened to the disturbing sounds of mayhem filtering through into the spacious room they occupied. If he knew Selphie, then the walls would need repainting, the stove and countertops replacing, not to mention the possible psychological damage she might cause.

 

Truthfully, Seifer had expected as much to happen. Regardless of who paid for damages, in the end Mike would still be pissed off, so it was worth it.

 

The group sat patiently, with an awkward lack of conversation. Squall had opted to rest his head back and close his eyes. Whether the brunet was just escaping the people around him or resting after yet another long night with little sleep, no one knew.

 

Irvine did his best to disregard Rui's little discrepancy out on the street and the fact that he had no idea where the kid came from. Overlooking all that, he chose to ask the boy about his intentions at Garden and perhaps learn a little about why the kid was with them.

 

One by one, each dish was brought out by their bouncy waitress, who had donned a dark green apron with The Harold's logo on it and a faux chef's hat made from white napkins with what appeared to be staples holding it together.

 

Smiling, she first returned Irvine's hat and then set a small plate with a couple slices of toast in front of Squall before turning to bound back into the kitchen.

 

Pausing in his next question about where Rui grew up, Irvine watched Selphie retreat. Adjusting his hat to sit right, he said, “At least he knows enough to not give her more than one plate at a time. What's his name?”

 

“Michael Garrant,” Squall answered, still keeping his eyes closed and surprising everyone.

 

“He's a former Galbadian soldier,” Seifer added.

 

“Lieutenant Garrant is the reason I became a soldier,” Kiros stated matter-of-factly, leaning forward.

 

Before Seifer could bite out a sarcastic remark, the all-seeing Commander reached under the table and pinched his leg. The brunet didn't even open his eyes, which made Seifer wonder just how the man knew he was going to speak.

 

Rui stifled a laugh, knowing that the Commander had just reprimanded the brute of a knight. It was satisfying. As it was, he was in a depressed mood. The Commander had just yelled at him. Well, not really yelled, but he thought he'd seen a bit of disappointment in those gray-blue eyes.

 

Sinking back into the cushioned booth seat, Rui folded his arms and subtly leaned closer to the pale Commander that he was becoming fonder of. Initially he'd been desperate to be on the older boy's good side, since Squall Leonhart was the embodiment of strength and power. If anyone could protect him, Commander Leonhart could. But now… now, he was intrigued and drawn to the brunet. He'd never met anyone like the guy. He had tried to figure it all out, but failed. Between the rumors he heard and his own observations, nothing added up.

 

With a sigh, sounding all too much like the serious Commander, Rui brooded. He knew the reason he was brought along on this expedition was for some set up with Epson. He wanted to feel apprehensive and nervous, but he only felt like pouting over Squall's words to him.

 

It wasn't long before Selphie had brought out the rest of the dishes. Laguna beamed over his mountain of an ice cream sundae, which was a bit messy since it was the only item Mike had allowed Selphie to make. Kiros and Mike were in a deep discussion of some mission that they'd been assigned on the same team for some odd number of years back.

 

Selphie ignored her plate full of waffles in order to watch Laguna's reaction. “There's a second cherry underneath the ice cream,” she cheered as the equally cheerful man took his first spoonful.

 

“This is better than Jerry's Deli,” Rui commented, greedily munching on a turkey on rye with the best dressing he'd ever tasted.

 

Seifer observed the plates everyone else had been served and then he looked at Squall's. Just two slices of dry toast, neither of which had been touched. “Two slices of toast?” he questioned incredulously.

 

Hardly missing a stride while talking with his old subordinate, the assured and experienced barman waved the knight off. “I doubt Princess would eat anything more.”

 

“Nonsense,” Seifer thought aloud. Lifting his plate, he scraped some hash browns and eggs right on top of the uneaten toast. “Hey, Marlboro, lend me your fork.”

 

“I need it,” Irvine refused, eyes trained on his slice of pizza. He didn't like the new name given to him by some pick pocketing first year cadet, and he especially disliked it coming from the arrogant mouth of the knight.

 

Rolling his jade eyes, Seifer reached over and grabbed the utensil. “Use your hands, like everyone else.” He plopped the fork down in front of Squall.

 

Raising his head up, Squall opened his eyes and looked blankly up at the blonde.

 

“Eat up Princess,” Seifer said, reaching around the boy between them and ruffling the unruly mop of hair.

 

“You can have some of my sandwich,” Rui offered, wondering if they should all be giving the Commander food. The man did look small for an eighteen year old, though that may have just been the perception of the type of eighteen year old that Commander Leonhart was supposed to be.

 

“He doesn't like turkey,” Seifer commented before he could really think about it.

 

Jaw clenched, Squall crossed his arms and sat back. Refusing to eat, he closed his eyes again and rested his head.

 

“That's why I didn't push it. Same old Almasy, pushy bastard,” Mike said with a chuckle, before resuming his focus to the conversation that now included Laguna.

 

Grumbling under his breath, Seifer mimicked the brunet's posture. Keeping his eyes open, he studied the pale face of the young man he'd known most his life. Hyne, how he wanted to jump his stubborn charge.