Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ Unable To Love ( Chapter 34 )

Chapter Thirty-Four

Unable To Love

 

It was late morning before the pair of sated fighters had managed to stumble from the bedroom and clean themselves up.

 

Emerging from the bathroom, Squall rolled his eyes at the blond following behind him. “I'm wearing the bandage,” the brunet affirmed for the fourth time. With his hair damp and jutting out at odd angles, Squall ran a hand through it to comb it back. Wearing naught but a pair of jeans, he stalked into the larger flat area of his apartment. Adorning his neck, just below his jaw nearer the left side, was a square white bandage.

 

“I don't see the big deal,” Seifer complained, following the smaller man closely. His hair equally wet, though he was more fully dressed. Always the man to know what made him look good, he donned a deep red, French-cuffed shirt and defining dark gray slacks. Not necessarily formal, he didn't bother with any ties, nor did he own any dress shoes.

 

Earlier, when the brunet had slipped from his supposedly sleeping grasp, he'd waited a few minutes before joining in on the morning shower. With an amused grin, he puffed out his chest and watched the slightly hunched way in which Squall was walking. If their fun last night hadn't done it, then their fun in the shower had. Still grinning, he continued, “A Commander is allowed to have a sex life, no one will care.”

 

Without glancing back, Squall replied evenly, “I'll care. I have an expected image to uphold, it's bad enough that every official out there is looking for a reason to get me out of my position. They've already claimed I'm too young, I don't need to walk around looking as though I can't control some teenage sex drive.”

 

“Leonhart,” Seifer admonished, “No one's trying to get rid of you. From what I hear, you're like some sort of hero,” he finished sarcastically.

 

“To the public,” the brunet sighed, more than tired of being in the spot light for so long. “But, Trabia and Galbadia aren't the public, and they don't like Balamb having an eighteen year old Commander. They never have, but they couldn't do anything after we kicked your ass and killed Ultimecia.”

 

“I won't respond to that comment, only because I got to fuck you again this morning,” Seifer stated lamely, while walking towards the kitchen after clapping a hand to the brunet's sore ass. He'd been wondering when the stubborn man would begin poking fun about who came out on top in the war.

 

Squall couldn't suppress a small smirk. It was relieving to know that no matter how their relationship changed or how attached the blond knight had truly become, they could still carry on with a feeling of normalcy. In fact, Squall felt certain that if they stopped arguing over every little detail then something would be seriously wrong.

 

Walking into his room, which took a great deal more effort than he was letting on, Squall let his hair alone to dry. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd actually combed it with an actual comb. There was a good chance that he never had, or at least no evidence of any hair care tools to prove otherwise.

 

As he bent down to open one of his dresser drawers, he seriously considered using a healing spell on himself. However, his stubborn mind resolved to bite the bullet. Unless it was for battle, SeeD shied away from using magic. Besides, he wouldn't be able to cast any spells until he saw Dr. Kadowaki that afternoon.

 

The lethargy to his body was one of the shorter lasting effects, thankfully. By the time the older doctor had discharged him, his synapses were back in working order. The trouble was with the Silence, which was not to be lifted until his body had returned to complete equilibrium. It was an unnecessary method in his opinion, but he had to respect Kadowaki's authority, lest he abuse his own.

 

The ever-comforting presence of Shiva was sorely missed, though Squall had had little time to dwell on his Guardian's silence. Now that it was approaching noon and he'd be off to see Kadowaki. There was a defiant part of him that wanted to reach into his own stores of Echo Screen and rid himself of the lingering Silence effects. Not that magic was his only defense. In fact he had always been a far more melee prone. Still, the feeling of being gimped remained, and it was not something he cared to have.

 

“You've got no food,” Seifer's voice called out to him in complaint, stirring him from his thoughts.

 

Straightening up, Squall gave the wall a sardonic look while donning a long sleeve burgundy shirt. Retrieving a pair of socks from the top drawer, which was at a level he needn't bend for, he carefully sat on his bed. Bare of sheets, he made a mental note to get a fresh set sometime that day.

 

When no further comments came from the knight, Squall figured he'd given up. Feet covered, he stood and made to reach his gunblade case, which thanks to Seifer currently held Lionheart inside it.

 

He holstered his gunblade, something that being without made him feel as though he were more naked than if weren't wearing any clothing.

 

Joining the blond in the kitchen, Squall leaned against the open entryway and watched with amusement as Seifer scowled at any and everything within the kitchen. “What did the fridge ever do to you?” he asked with underlying mirth. The blond had given a rather fierce glare at the aluminum surface of the large appliance.

 

“Nothing,” Seifer practically spat, though there was a certain undertone that let on he wasn't seriously upset. “There's no food.” While he had made this observation for himself the first day he arrived, he had yet to nag Squall about it.

 

Chuckling lightly, Squall walked passed him and opened the fridge. Reaching in, he grabbed a bottle of water. “The cafeteria has food,” he pointed out.

 

“I'll have to remember that,” Seifer commented, deciding the brunet knew what he was trying to imply.

 

Watching the brunet sip the clear liquid, Seifer compulsively licked his lips. Averting his eyes from the small movement the pale throat made, he began to wonder if there was a downside to being so turned on and attracted to Squall. Wanting to touch the young commander every second, but too afraid to lose control. One touch could lead to so much more, and Squall was proving to be a persistent lover, never turning on the yellow light. For a guy such as himself, he wouldn't leave the bed if his partner were still willing for more. And yet, here he was, consciously aware of every signpost, making sure he didn't start anything that the brunet would exert himself to finish.

 

Seifer felt it would be best if they were in a more public place. There was less chance of anything happening with prying eyes nearby. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “Let's go to the cafeteria for an early lunch.” When Squall just took another sip of water, he felt his usual need to clash heads stir within. “You don't eat enough. We're going, and you're eating,” he said firmly.

 

In a moment of indecision, Squall debated refusing the blond. It wasn't so much that he wasn't hungry or that he felt compelled to rebel against being given orders, but that once he saw Kadowaki he'd be given the same exact order. Either he could agree now, with his own free will, or he could have the doctor mandate it.

 

Giving a small nod, Squall agreed.

 

“Good boy,” Seifer patronized mockingly with a pronounced ruffle to damp locks. The brunet's hair looked like a bird's nest once he was done. He chuckled when the annoyed man gave off a groan that sounded rather like a growl.

 

**

 

Reclining comfortably, Seifer sat across from Squall at a small square table in the most remote area of the cafeteria. In a far corner, the brunet sat on the side that was partially hidden by a round pillar.

 

Part of the spacious dining hall included a courtyard, where students could eat or do homework during warmer seasons at picnic tables. However, in the approaching winter months, tall glass doors had been sealed closed to protect the inside from biting winds and cold weather. Their table was situated right beside the glass wall, giving a chiller feel to one side in opposition to the warm currents of air that filled the rest of the large room. There was a constant din of students' lunchtime chatter. For the most part, the sounds were mixed together, no group of cadets venturing to eat close enough to the Commander or Ultimecia's knight.

 

Sitting stiffly, Squall sniffed in slight distain at the steaming mug of hot chocolate. The beverage had been placed before him after being ordered by the blond across from him. Having already been compliant enough with the nearly finished tuna sandwich he'd eaten, he felt inclined to inform the knight that he had no intention of being pushed around like some five year old incapable of taking care of himself. Before he could make a statement however, Seifer spoke.

 

“You're eating for two now, you can't just have whatever you want,” Seifer said, seeing the gleam of defiance in those gray-blue eyes.

 

Furrowing his brows, Squall couldn't help the immediate questioning of, “What?”

 

“Well,” Seifer began to reason, holding back the laughter that wanted to escape at the innocently confused look on the brunet's face, “I'll be tasting whatever you eat or drink. I like hot chocolate, so you should drink it.”

 

Setting the mug down, Squall rolled his eyes. “You're ridiculous,” he stated, folding his arms and contenting himself for a bout of silence in which he'd muse to himself while staring out the window.

 

With a soft chuckle, Seifer reached over to take the drink for himself. When a delicate hand pressed atop his own to stop the movement, a shiver shot through his body. His subconscious seemed to know something pleasant was coming.

 

“I never said I wouldn't drink it,” Squall mumbled, retracting his hand and continuing to stare out the window.

 

It was a forced action to settle back into his seat and not jump across the table at the stoic young man. The public place was proving its worth as he managed to refrain. The drink had been meant as a joke, one that would hopefully serve to rile a few feathers. However, he found himself on the other end of the trivial jest.

 

Needing a moment to collect himself, Seifer gazed out the window in much the same manner as his younger counter part.

 

It was nasty weather outside. Cloudy and cold, it drizzled down chilled drops of rain that were fluctuating between water and the first snow of the season. It was odd to have the weather be so cold at this time of the year. It was only November, and while snow wasn't unheard of, it was uncommon being so near the sea.

 

When staring out the window proved too dull, Seifer turned his attention to the profiled face of the quiet boy. Every so often, dark lashes would blink over bright eyes. He didn't see what was so special outside, but whatever it was kept Squall's attention. Though, Seifer knew the solemn fighter well enough to know that Squall's focus was far more inside than just the room they occupied. There were innumerous times that he'd wondered what went on in that pondering head of the brunet.

 

While he had always wondered, he hadn't ever been in a position to ask. So, now that he was, he took advantage of it. “What are you thinking?” he questioned lightly, showing that he was being serious for a change.

 

It was another moment of lost reverie before Squall turned his eyes to Seifer. Blinking, he thought back and registered the question. Reflexively, his lips parted to reply `nothing', but he stopped himself short. Taking another moment to properly form the scattered thoughts in his head, he admitted, “Laguna,”

 

There was a ridiculous flipping in Seifer's stomach. Not showing his own dismay at the unbecoming giddiness that he felt, he instead relished in the fact that Squall had actually given him a straight answer. Unsure of what words would prompt more of a response, since he would quite enjoy simply listening to the less than talkative man speak all day, Seifer chose to gesture with his eyes.

 

Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, Squall watched green eyes regard him intently while light eyebrows rose in question. He often found himself speaking at great lengths around the blond. In fact, that was generally how it had always been. Even if the words were an exchange of insults and meaningless banter, he usually wound up speaking more to Seifer in one day than he did to even Quistis in a month.

 

The last meeting, between Squall and Laguna, had been weighing heavily on the brunet's mind. The matter had been bothering him, though due to the most recent jumbling of events he hadn't spend a lot of time dwelling on it.

 

It killed Squall to know exactly how enthusiastic and warm hearted his father truly was. Thanks to Ellone, he had quite an insight into the man's past and inner workings. Granted, he had initially spurned the happy and care free manner in which the Galbadian soldier had conducted himself with. But, even before he'd learned of his relation to the man, he'd developed somewhat of a soft spot. It was not so much an attachment as it was a tolerance. He tolerated his father's behavior, even humored it on rare occasions.

 

What hurt Squall was, knowing exactly how his father felt. Those blue-green eyes betrayed every emotion, nothing was ever guarded from showing through. The man's heart was on his sleeve, and it was beating with unconditional affection for him.

 

The first moment that the familial revelation came to light, the longhaired man seemed to automatically develop deep seeded feelings of love. And then there was Squall, who didn't even know if he was capable of such an emotion, much less feel it for a man he barely knew.

 

Squall thought he'd been in love with Rinoa. The simple word had never mattered to him, but at the same time it carried a greater weight for him than for those who carelessly spouted it off. Obviously he hadn't been in love, he'd been sadly mistaken, and some how wound up hurting the raven-haired girl in the process of his confusion.

 

He didn't doubt the truth behind the word when it was spoken by Seifer. It actually stirred something inside of him when he heard it. Much the same, he hadn't doubted the president when last they met, and the older man had expressed the same feeling.

 

Shocked and panicked were the forefront of emotions that had risen in him when Laguna had blurted the words out after pulling him into a hug. The older man didn't seem able to understand him, and had been gradually working up to a worried frenzy that they'd never truly act like a father and son should.

 

It had been painfully obvious that his father had wanted to hear him return those same words, to hear him repeat back, `I love you too, dad.'

 

But, he hadn't. He'd stayed silent, and watched as the man's eyes glistened. That had marked the end of their brief meeting. And with a final hug, in which his father seemed to cling to him, the man had left.

 

Unable to sort his thoughts out properly, Squall had refused to speak about it with anyone, even Seifer.

 

Now, however, after the blond's admission of love, he wondered if perhaps it would be wise to seek help. He didn't want to hurt Laguna, but neither could he say any phrases of affection that held a hollow echo. That, would probably cause the man to burst into tears.

 

“Squall,” Seifer snapped his fingers in front of distant blue eyes. There seemed a hurt look to them, a look he couldn't stand to see without remedying it.

 

Abruptly pulling from his memories, Squall stared at the blond. While he wanted to seek the knight's help, he also remembered that the blond was in a similar position as Laguna. Both men were awaiting his returned affections, all the while he floundered in an attempt to find the ability to love within himself.

 

“I….” Squall found himself unable to voice his thoughts. Indecision was not something he enjoyed, especially when he was the one who couldn't choose.

 

“Hey!” a voice interrupted the stilled moment, relieving the brunet from having to decide.

 

Zell came striding up to their table. With an extra chair in one hand and a plate of food in the other, the spiky haired fighter slid into place. Settled between the two, facing the window, Zell gave the Commander a smile.

 

“Raijin took care of my classes, and I managed to get out to Esthar like you asked,” Zell stated, taking a bite of one of three hotdogs set before him on a plate.

 

Lost for a moment, while trying to recall exactly what it was he'd asked Zell to do, Squall was cut off before he could even begin.

 

“Chicken-wuss, can't you see we were having a private conversation?” Seifer growled out, hating how the timid kitten seemed on the edge of revealing something and then being interrupted.

 

“Down boy,” Zell replied, taking on a tone that suggested he was talking to a dog. A guard dog, to be more specific.

 

Before any fights could occur, Squall quickly asked, “What did you find at the missile base?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Zell chewed on another bite, swallowing just before answering, “Nothing new. It was like they told us. Someone broke in, took out the guards and the crazy doc, then they launched the missile.”

 

“Any sign who did it?” Squall already knew who the culprit had been, or at least who they'd been working for. However, as much as he disliked disclosing information from his friends, he didn't want more people knowing about what happened in Dollet, not the specifics anyway. Though, he was legally bound to inform his father about the situation. Esthar had been dragged into the mess, and with their alliance, he was required to disclose all details. However, he'd worry about that when the time came.

 

“Naw, it was pretty much like a hit and run with no witnesses,” the hyper man replied.

 

“Well, we took care of it all anyway, so there's no need to look into it anymore,” Squall explained, subtly letting Zell know that his assistance wasn't needed any more.

 

“Who was it?” the spiky haired fighter asked automatically.

 

Seifer, catching on to Squall's wishes for secrecy, interjected, “The same guy who was stalking him. The moron was sloppy enough to leave a name with the group he hired to help him.” With a cocky grin, he added, “Naturally, the guy was no match for me, so case closed.”

 

Scratching his tattoo, Zell looked from one face to the next. There was something going on. Shrugging his shoulders in dismissal, he resolved to ask Quistis later. It would be like pulling teeth to get Squall to talk about something he didn't want to. “Okay,” he voiced his understanding that it was over. “Oh,” he perked up, again remembering why he'd trotted over to their table in the first place. “Greta has your cat,” he informed.

 

“Thanks for telling me,” Squall mumbled, sitting back into his chair in a brooding manner.

 

“Greta?” Seifer questioned, not recalling Squall having an acquaintance by that name.

 

“The head cook in the kitchens,” Zell provided as an answer with a hint of pride.

 

Quirking a brow, Seifer stared at the impassive brunet. “Why does the lunch lady have your cat?”

 

“Hey,” Zell warned, “She's more than a lunch lady.”

 

Turning his mischievous green eyes on the hot-tempered young man, Seifer goaded, “Look Dincht, if you have a fetish for cooking skills, then go off and marry the woman, but don't preach to me about it.” He knew of the Dincht's obsession with his mother's cooking and a particular fetish for hotdogs.

 

Standing abruptly, the spiky haired fighter punched the air. “You wanna go Almasy?”

 

“Zell, settled down,” Squall reprimanded, not wanting a spectacle.

 

Listening to the brunet, Zell seated himself again, though he sent a glare towards the knight. The arrogant man would never change, always able to get under his skin. Huffing, he returned to his meal and mumbled, “If all I looked for was how well a person could cook, I would have hooked up with Squall a long time ago.”

 

At this comment, Seifer stiffened and Squall who had unfortunately taken his first sip of the cooled drink choked on the liquid. Coughing as controlled as he could manage, Squall cleared his air passage.

 

Zell, who seemed none the wiser to the odd reactions, began to work on his second hotdog.

 

While Seifer would have loved to make a retorting comment, he'd already pushed the brunet around enough. Instead, he took a moment to find something to fill the soon to be noticed silence between them. “So the head chef has your fur ball?”

 

With a small nod, Squall answered, “He's an out door cat, never stays in the apartment unless I'm going to be there.”

 

“Yeah,” Zell began to explain a bit further, “He's a smart cat, always coming to the kitchens for food.”

 

“And if it gets locked in the apartment?” Seifer questioned logically.

 

“Naw, Quistis visits at least once a day to let it out or in,” Zell said, all traces of anger towards the knight gone.

 

“I see,” Seifer ended. It figured that Squall was in such bad shape when he arrived. The Commander couldn't even care for a cat on his own, much less himself.

 

The three of them carried on in relative silence. Squall was perfectly contented with such an environment, and continued to stare out the window in reverie.

 

“So has Selphie gotten around to assigning you work for the festival?” Zell asked, having finished his lunch, he felt inclined to striking up a conversation.

 

Narrowing his eyes, Seifer looked at the hyperactive fighter. “I refuse to do any work for some festival.”

 

Chuckling, Zell shook his head. A quick glance at Squall showed him the quiet Commander was still staring off, but listening in with a small knowing smirk. “You can't refuse. You can never refuse to help her, trust me.”

 

Brows raised, Seifer regarded the brunet across from him. There was an amused smirk on those pretty lips, telling him Chicken-wuss' words were true. Groaning, he sat back in his chair, resigned to some fate that involved decorations and all around annoying celebrations.