Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ A Picture Lasts Longer ( Chapter 49 )

Chapter Forty-Nine

A Picture Lasts Longer

 

Breaking the surface of the water, Squall growled out a note of annoyance. Moments later the splashing of Laguna surfacing sounded from nearby. Treading water, Squall turned to find the longhaired man thrashing about while trying to stay afloat.

 

The sight was rather amusing. It was as though the President was trying to do too many different actions at once. “I take it swimming isn't your strong suit,” Squall stated a bit coldly.

 

“Not many things are,” the President replied shyly, blushing furiously at what his overzealous actions had resulted in.

 

This whole father son bonding was not working out at all. Things had gone from bad to worse, and after tackling his son off the dock and into the water, Laguna didn't see how it could possibly get better.

 

Struggling to not sink back under, the odd feeling of boots weighing his feet down, Laguna refused to meet his son's eyes until he could think of something appropriate to say. The steadying hand on his upper arm came as a surprise. Shock evident in his expression, his eyes looked up to meet those steely gray ones. It sent a shiver through him, the icy nature of his son's eyes, but that might have been the water.

 

As contradictions went, Laguna saw a cold aloofness in Squall's eyes, but as the brunet helped him move closer to the dock there was an obvious note of warmth to the action.

 

“Sorry,” the longhaired man apologized, regarding the back of the Commander's head.

 

“Don't worry about it,” Squall said. Accidents happened, and considering who he was dealing with, it was a given that something would go wrong every hour or so. Besides, if he hadn't dodged in the first place then he deserved to be knocked down. By all rights, he shouldn't have let his consumed mind get in the way of his instincts.

 

Confused by the Commander's calm reaction, Laguna pressed the matter, “Are you angry?” There were times when people would get so angry that they moved beyond just shouting.

 

“No,” Squall mumbled, pulling Laguna closer as they neared a round post that supported the dock.

 

Treading about four feet below the wooden platform, neither man would be able to get back up without a little help.

 

“I'll give you a leg up,” Squall stated, explaining his reason for pulling the older man closer.

 

“Eh?” Laguna intoned in question.

 

With a sigh, Squall elaborated, “Put your foot in my hands and I'll help you reach the dock.”

 

“But, I'd push you under the water,” the President spoke with obvious reluctance to inconvenience the boy in any way ever again.

 

“It's fine,” the brunet assured. Pushing the older man to go along with his instructions, Squall let go of Laguna's arm and interlocked his fingers. Apparently his father's hesitation was greater than he thought, for instead of grabbing onto him for support, the green swimmer floundered under.

 

Groaning, Squall reached out again and pulled Laguna up by the cuff of a sopping green shirt. “Hold onto me,” he ordered.

 

“I'll give you the leg up,” the man reasoned.

 

“Yeah, and then I'll have to fish your dead body out,” Squall stated with mirth. This guy could be amusing in a naïve sort of way, but far too kind hearted for Squall's tolerance.

 

Hesitantly, Laguna braced himself with hands on the young man's shoulders. It almost seemed like Squall was secretly standing on some hidden platform below, the brunet didn't seem to have any difficulty at all.

 

Entwining his fingers again, Squall straightened his arms down and hunched over to let Laguna place a foot in the makeshift catapult.

 

“Are you sure you'll be fine?” Laguna asked. “Why don't we just swim around?”

 

Grumbling at the man's incessant worry, Squall replied, “Cause it'll take too long, and I'm cold.”

 

 

 

Sopping wet, Squall stood with the heavy weight of his clothes. His boots were soaked and his jeans were barely able to stay up, held in place by a single belt. The white shirt clung to him like an opaque second skin, making the garment completely pointless. The only time his hair wasn't mussed up or falling in jagged cuts was when it was dripping wet and matted down.

 

The first thing the slightly chilled brunet did was retrieve Lionheart. Holding the sheathed gunblade, his fingers almost caressed the dark casing in apology for tossing it away so carelessly.

 

Laguna was in a similar state of dishevelment. The President's long hair had loosened from its elastic band and fell like a dark curtain down the man's back. His shirt hung loosely, a darker green than before, while his pants sloshed with every step.

 

“Guess we're spending the night,” the older man said, scratching the back of his head and giving a goofy smile.

 

Hesitantly, Squall agreed with a nod. It hadn't been his plan to stay over night in FH, but going back to Balamb in wet clothes meant freezing to death. Besides, it was kind of late for traveling anyway.

 

It was bothersome that they'd have to go back into town and find a hotel while walking around in wet clothes.

 

“Squall,” Laguna whispered in an uncommonly serious tone.

 

Stopping mid step, Squall turned around. The sun was a half circle of glowing orange on the horizon. The President's easy to read face was cast in shadow, making it difficult to tell just what was on his father's mind. Taking a guess, Squall assured, “It's fine, Selphie is always doing stuff like that.” It was probably more troublesome that the longhaired man didn't let it go than the action itself.

 

Disregarding the brunet's words, Laguna focused on the single issue that occupied his mind, and had been weighing heavily with him for some time. “You care about me?”

 

Squall had to stop himself from growling out a note of annoyance. Why didn't people listen the first time? “I don't like to repeat myself,” he said.

 

“Please,” Laguna requested solemnly.

 

Frowning, Squall cringed at the request. Just when he thought he could be himself around the man, the situation changed. From having to smile and talk, to repeating himself and saying things he didn't want to say in the first place. Was this worth it? What did he get out of any relationship forged with his father? Who was he doing this for?

 

Although Squall was unable to find any answers, he was able to admit defeat. Whether or not he wanted to, he did carry some semblance of affection for this man who'd sired him.

 

“You're as big an idiot at Seifer,” the Commander cursed. The two morons, Seifer and Laguna, had more than mutual acquaintances in common, they'd undoubtedly managed to make Squall care about them. “I care about you,” he mumbled at length.

 

Laguna's body instinctively jerked forward, but he restrained himself. It must have been some automated reaction to hearing that his son cared. Still, he wanted to hug the boy, his son. “Can I hug you?”

 

Sighing, Squall wondered if all his troubles with Laguna could be solved by killing the man. As the usually goofy President shifted impatiently, he glimpsed earnest green eyes. It was ten times more moving a sight than Selphie's pouting imitation of a puppy dog. Frustrated, Squall gave a nearly imperceptible nod of ascent.

 

This time, Laguna didn't tackle the smaller man, but stepped closer and carefully wrapped his arms around the Commander's shoulders and back. Drawing the wet form closer, he squeezed tightly, unable to hold back any longer. He'd been longing to do this since their first meeting. His son, all grown up and looking so much like Raine. It was painful, but not nearly as bad as not being able to simply hug the boy.

 

Remaining limp in the hold, Squall simply stood with his hands at his side. Enveloped in the longhaired man's arms, he couldn't help but note that it was significantly warmer. It was somehow very similar and yet completely different from Seifer's embrace.

 

When Laguna didn't seem inclined to letting go anytime soon, Squall found himself fighting a battle between shoving the man off and responding to the action in turn. Unable to decide what to do, he did nothing, and simply remained impartial.

 

As time seemed to drag on, Squall's eyes searched for something to settle on aside from the glimpse of darkening sky beyond his father's shoulder. Even so close to another person, it was becoming chilly.

 

Squall gave a small shiver as a breeze swept in from the sea. Shutting his eyes from the surrounding world, he lowered his head against Laguna's shoulder. The result of his small action was to have his body squeezed tighter, making it uncomfortable. But, he didn't protest. With any luck, once it was over, the kindhearted man would never expect such complacency from him ever again.

 

It was distressing when the Commander suddenly felt one of the ex-soldier's arms shift and stroke his hair. To add to the problem, the brunet suspected the small tremors coming from his father were sobs.

 

The idea that Laguna was now crying was the last straw. Squirming slightly, he was about to shout at the man or just hit him with his blade's hilt, but he was stopped short.

 

Going rigid, Squall squint his eyes closed in annoyance. Not too far off, probably at the unfinished warehouse, the unmistakable sound of a camera could be heard. Balling one hand in a fist and gripping Lionheart harshly in the other, Squall hissed out, “Laguna”

 

“No! Don't move!” a familiar voice cried out in a pleading manner.

 

As footsteps sounded, coming closer, Squall forced himself away from Laguna and drew his gunblade. Defensively, he faced the intruder with the neon glow of his blade casting an opposing light to the warm colored rays of the setting sun.

 

Narrowed gray eyes widened once recognition was made. Standing down, Squall watched as an angry Selphie stomped her way across the dock.

 

“I said not to move!” the young woman yelled shaking a fist in the air.

 

Completely confused, Squall looked from the angry girl approaching to unknown cameraman stationed on the steal beam he'd been lounging on earlier.

 

“What is this?” the Commander asked sternly, not appreciating the unexplained situation or the angry attitude he was receiving for no apparent reason.

 

“Well,” the young woman huffed, as she drew nearer, “It's nothing now.” Hands on her hips, shifting the yellow corduroy a bit, she glared up at the taller brunet.

 

Dumbfounded, Squall was at a loss. Selphie's glare could rival his own at times, but he was still far from intimidated. Glaring back, he made to sheath his blade.

 

Selphie's green eyes widened suddenly. Raking her eyes up and down the sopping brunet, she almost giggled at how he resembled a wet cat. “Wait!” she shouted over her shoulder. Nodding in approval she declared, “Take these pictures too. You can see right through his shirt.” Stepping aside, she promptly slouched over and on bent knees and waited.

 

Upon her own request, she'd followed the father and son pair to Fisherman's Horizon. Showing up several hours later, she'd enlisted the aide of the first person she found in town, and set up camp with her equipment. She'd arrived to watch the pair talking at the far end of the peer like dock. And from there, her sight seeing adventure began. But, once she signaled for the shutter lens camera to be used, the Commander heard the noise and ruined it.

 

Still glaring, Squall remained motionless in his increased confusion. Short of shouting out curses, he did his best to remain calm and have patience that all would reveal itself in due time.

 

The soft glow of Lionheart disappeared when Squall finished putting his unneeded weapon away. Frowning, he looked over at a smiling copper haired girl. Her hair was more red than copper at the moment, but he really didn't care about that.

 

Looking to Laguna he found that he wasn't alone in his confusion. As the returned sound and sporadic flashes of a camera went off, Squall frowned deeply. Whatever the bi-polar ball of energy was up to, he most certainly didn't want to have anything to do with it.

 

So, Squall began to walk away. He'd grab his hoodie and destroy whatever pictures had been taken at the same time.

 

“Touch a single camera or the guy takin' the pictures and I'll never forgive you!” Selphie sang out loudly to the retreating Commander's back.

 

Balling his fist, Squall kept walking without hitching his stride. A part of him felt like being petty in whatever game the young woman was playing, but he refrained. He could shout back that it would be another two weeks before Balamb stationed in FH, but he didn't. He'd practiced calm behavior all his life. Brashness was something he was an expert at controlling.

 

It was a true test of his self-control, however, when he neared the shadowed cameraman and the guy kept taking his picture. Silently, he vowed never to make Selphie waffles ever again.

 

Grabbing the garment, he very nearly slid Lionheart along the beam's surface to knock the man down.

 

Hurried footsteps approached. Turning around, Squall watched as a confused longhaired President sprinted towards him.

 

“Want me to break it?” Laguna asked, drawing closer.

 

“Laguna can't interfere either!” Selphie shouted, standing up to quickly follow. Double-teaming wasn't fair. “The same rules apply to the dad as to the son!” she reasoned with fists waving madly above her head.

 

The clicking of pictures stopped as the dark haired cameraman, who looked like a local of FH, froze with fear of assault.

 

“Selphie,” Laguna began to speak, “What are you doing here? And why are you taking pictures?”

 

Squall's sharp eyes looked from the man crouched on high to the still approaching copper haired woman. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but the picture they formed was ludicrous.

 

“Because, bonding moments are the best,” she affirmed happily. Her face contorted to a frown after a moment, “But you ruined it!” she pointed an accusing finger to the Commander. “It was so sweet, and then you had to go and end it.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Squall was forced to accept the completed image as the last piece fit in place perfectly. Selphie had shown up to take pictures of him and Laguna together. No doubt, the young woman couldn't have been there very long, but she might have taken several rolls worth of pictures without his even knowing it. There was a reason she was SeeD. But, there was also a reason he was Commander.

 

Punishment was definitely in order. With a small smirk, Squall mentally stomped out all protests for what he was about to do. Revenge would be worth it. Besides, Laguna was just featherbrained enough for it to work, whilst not giving the friendly man any ideas.

 

Subtly choosing not to cover his exposed body with the sweatshirt, the brunet began to rub his upper arms. “Laguna,” he stated softly, “Can we go now? I'm cold.”

 

Frowning, the older man turned from the young woman, who'd appeared out of nowhere, and looked to his son with concern. “Of course,” the President agreed quickly.

 

“Huh?” Selphie gaped at the Commander's odd demeanor. They were leaving?

 

Squall forced the all traces of his smirk away. As pathetically pleading as he could, he gazed at the older man and stepped closer. Common sense would tell any person that the dry shirt in his hand was what he should be putting on, but he doubted his father was thinking clearly at the moment. Emotions ran high in the kindhearted President, and after the swirling of events just now, the poor guy probably didn't know what hit him. Rubbing his arms again, he gave a voluntary shiver. The fact that he was cold from being wet would only serve to spur sympathy from the man who'd tackled him.

 

“Do you have a place in mind?” Laguna questioned, hating how the smaller man shivered on account of being wet. Unsure what to make of the less defensive Commander, he did what he would have done for Ellone. Stepping closer, he slung his arm around the suddenly frail looking young man.

 

“Selphie,” Squall said, making a show of leaning closer into Laguna's body, “Go back and tell Seifer I'll be away for the night.”

 

On the verge of crying over losing such a prime opportunity of recording Squall showing kinship, Selphie was about to protest. However, a stern glare from the Commander told her that it wasn't a request. “Meanie!” she shouted, fleeing passed the pair and running along the dock. A frazzled young man fumbled while lowering down to the dock and scrambling to follow after, the hastily packed camera bag swinging in toe.

 

Laguna watched the retreating forms and it suddenly clicked into place. An all too complacent Commander willingly remaining close and the upset young woman. “Is she always like that?” he questioned, still confused over Selphie's fixation on taking pictures of the two of them together.

 

Surprised, Squall turned his head to regard Laguna.

 

“You don't have to act anymore,” the longhaired man said, hiding the hurt he felt at being used so easily. Kiros was always warning him about being too nice for his own good.

 

“I guess the discovery that I can be physically intimate must've been a shock for her,” Squall stated. “I think she wants pictures because she doesn't think it'll last.” Selphie might have been brash and out of line at times, but she always had her twisted reasons for it all.

 

Still not understanding entirely, the older man shrugged. He left his arm draped around the brunet out of foolish hope.

 

With satisfaction, Squall noted that he'd taken his revenge already. However, he wasn't oblivious to the hurt expression on Laguna's face. “I'm hungry too,” he stated suggestively.

 

Surprised at Squall's words, Laguna didn't quite pick up on the suggestion at first. However, when he realized that they'd be spending the rest of the day together, he was overjoyed. The Commander might not have been the most fun person to hang out with, but the young man was definitely number one on his list at all times. With the way things were going, he might manage to convince the brunet to start calling him `Dad'.

 

With an unconscious squeeze to the Commander's shoulder, Laguna reasoned in a fatherly manner, “Dry clothes come first.”

 

Upon seeing the uneasy expression melt into a warm smile, Squall ignored what his common sense had told him already. He decided that playing the roll of a child in need of a guiding hand might not kill him, and it had the added benefit of soothing any qualms his father might have at the moment.

 

Straightening up a bit, Squall remained beside ex-soldier and didn't shrug the arm off. At least it would make up for using the man.