Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Unresolved Issues ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter Four

Unresolved Issues

 

Quistis' thoughts strayed to the conversation she'd had with Selphie. Lazily she sat passing time, more than relieved to not be juggling duties of the Headmaster along with filling in for the Commander. It was a pleasant feeling of freedom, that she sorely wished Squall could feel. Her mind was preoccupied though, while she had a small lunch in a café, she churned the pieces over silently while infrequently picking at the Cesar salad in front of her.

 

Although illogical, she could understand where the green-eyed girl's conclusions had come from. Irvine would never be rid of his promiscuous reputation. No doubt, the gunman had scarce few times when he'd actually become serious about anyone and never serious enough that a quick fling with a new face couldn't sooth the lecherous soul. It stood to reason in a twisted way that if the auburn haired ladies man had changed, had become incapable of so freely having sex, then a quick fling was pointless. No quick fling meant he'd become consumed and, as Selphie saw it, eventually fall in love.

 

So, without a random rut with whatever short-skirted female he could manage to woo, that left the option of obtaining the person his violet eyes were pining for. And thus with a kiss, though it'd probably have to be more, he'd put to rest the jealous emotions and desires to make the challenging conquest.

 

Hyne only knew what went on in either the gunman or the pilot's minds, but Quistis understood where the connections were made. With a smirk, the Head Instructor wondered if her understanding on the matter meant she was losing her sanity.

The blonde woman felt a small pang of her own unsettled discomfort about the happenings of the past few weeks. Everyone's lives had just begun to return to normal, with the exception of Squall. But, even he seemed to have settled into the monotonous routine of constant working.

 

Out of nowhere, everything changed.

 

Squall and Seifer were dating each other, which was quite possibly the most bazaar development ever. Zell ran off and eloped without so much as a whisper that he'd found someone in the first place. Irvine finally managed to keep control on his libido, only to start harboring mislead feelings for the Commander. And Selphie was beyond smitten and forlorn all at once.

 

As much as Quistis wanted to use this as an excuse to go out and find herself a handsome boyfriend, she simply couldn't deny her friends their dramatics and hopeful fairytale endings. If everything worked out for Irvine and Selphie, then everyone would settle down once again, but this time with a significant other.

 

It was like a game of musical chairs that she'd lost. One seat short, she was left standing while everyone else sat beside someone they loved.

 

Despite all this, Quistis didn't feel sorry for herself. It wasn't her time yet, that handsome man would have to wait. For now, she'd play the arbitrator, making sure nothing got out of hand.

 

There was a pleasant upturn to the day when the newly wed couple meandered into the very café she was in.

 

Calling them over, she only hoped Zell didn't recognize the reprimanding glint to her eyes. There were more than a few questions she felt like asking him and his shy bride, not to mention a long due lecture for not inviting any of the them to the wedding. Selphie would have killed to be a bride's maid.

 

**

 

It wasn't necessarily a hot day, but it was too warm for bomber jackets with fur collars and long brown-leathered trench coats.

 

“We need to be in town for this?” Squall questioned with obvious disapproval as he and Irvine walked nearer the courtyard outside the train station.

 

“Not really, but it helps,” Irvine drawled.

 

There was a limit to how much Squall would do without being given any information. Stopping in his tracks, the brunet frowned before asking, “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

 

In the middle of taking a step, the black material of Irvine's shirt creased with the movement of his back. Frozen like that for a moment longer than Squall thought necessary, the gunman finally turned around with solemn looking violet eyes.

 

Impassively, Squall waited, though he refrained from impatiently folding his arms and leaning to one foot. Apparently his friends took great offense when he did that to them.

 

Heaving a dramatic sigh, the gunman slumped his shoulders in defeat. “I just need a sympathetic ear,” Irvine conceded. While it wasn't entirely true, he did need to get a few things off his chest.

 

Scowling, Squall stared at him with bright eyes. Crossing his arms regardless, he quirked a brow in a silent statement.

 

Reading the look, Irvine held his hands up and defended, “I know, I know. You're not exactly Mr. Sensitivity. But, you're all I got.”

 

The last statement seemed to be the only part that Squall was willing to accept. If the Commander were a last resort, then it was believable. “I have some time to spare,” Squall spoke grudgingly, only willing to subject himself to listening to another's troubles because Irvine was such a close friend and because delaying longer would surely piss Seifer off.

 

Smiling warmly, Irvine gave a small nod of thanks. In gesture of his gratitude he quickly scoured the area and motioned for Squall to follow.

 

With the assumption that he'd be playing the part of a wall, Squall reclined leisurely on the ground. Perhaps he was weird, but between laying on the planked slope that lead upwards to the tracks and the steel I-beams of that one unfinished warehouse on the other side of town, he found the hard surfaces to be quite comfortable. Nearby was the artisan's house and below them, below the gently sloped ramp that his legs dangled off of, was the courtyard outside the train station. Not two feet away was where he'd been crouched whilst pathetically weak soldiers tormented the hippie of a mayor.

 

Nearly smiling at the memory of the distraught peacemaking, pipe-smoking man, Squall suddenly remembered he was supposed to be listening. This was why people didn't come to him for comfort or consolation. If a person needed something killed, he was their man. If a person needed consolation, he never even registered on the list of possibilities. He wasn't too good as a listener either. He usually found it too boring and wandered amidst his own thoughts, which became obvious when his eyes became distant and he started pulling facial expressions that belied his attentiveness.

 

Still, he'd make an effort. Perhaps he'd succeed in hearing most of what the gunman had to say.

 

Once again, he had to force himself to stop thinking and just listen.

 

“I've found someone else,” Irvine sighed out as though it were the end of the world.

 

Cringing, Squall prayed to Hyne for the patience. Relationship troubles were definitely the last matter he should play consult to. It also didn't help that it was perhaps the last subject he wanted to be listening to.

 

There was a pause in which it almost seemed like Irvine was expecting him to comment. There was only so much the stubborn brunet could be forced to do. In a show that he had no intentions of speaking even once, Squall stretched lazily and settled his arms behind his head.

 

The message was clear enough, `I'll probably fall asleep, but hey, I wasn't gonna be an active participant in this conversation anyway.'

 

Violet eyes peeked to the side, staring fixedly at the exposed rim of flesh where the Commander's white t-shirt rode up, toned muscle beneath pale, smooth skin.

 

Licking his lips, the gunman fought to lock all impure thoughts away.

 

“I think it's getting' a bit serious with this one,” he ventured further into his confessional tale of woe and unwitting attempt at subtle hinting. “Selphie knows, but she's too sweet to turn me away.”

 

Another moment passed with silence. The distant rattle of an approaching train came. The silence lasted until the loud rattling grew and the ground around them shook.

 

When the roar died down and the quiet hum of the near ghost town resumed, Irvine spoke again. “Hyne Squall, everything about… them turns my head around. But it's entirely one sided,” he stated in defeat.

 

Cracking his lids, dark lashed shifted as gray-blue eyes peered upwards. The sun was pretty much overhead which made it difficult to open his eyes completely. There was just something about it that drove him to speak up. Whether he was growing softer or just feeling concerned on Selphie's behalf.

 

“We always want what we can't have,” Squall spoke, breaking both the silence and the unspoken rule that he'd be entirely passive.

 

With none too hidden surprise, the auburn haired man stared. Licking his lips again, he gave a nod of agreement.

 

“Irvine, just let it go.”

 

“I've tried,” he refuted. The concept of just letting it go had been the centerfold of his solutions and thinking from the beginning.

 

Squall didn't reply, but shut his eyes once again. Briefly, he wondering how much time had gone by already. The sun felt nice. If he got any paler, which probably wasn't possible, Seifer was going to start taking jabs at him.

 

Stormy eyes snapped open abruptly, brightly lit as his pupils narrowed in the bright light. `Hyne,' he groaned inwardly. Momentarily forgetting about Irvine, he silently berated himself. All his thoughts kept finding their way back to the stupid blond knight. Was he actually considering being outside for the sake of tanning? Sweet Hyne, he could fall no lower.

 

Scowling, Squall sent silent curses to the arrogant knight.

 

Irvine stared off blankly. He wondered if Squall would put two and two together. But, he doubted that. He couldn't exactly blame Squall, the guy had always been oblivious, not to mention he wasn't the most likely candidate for crushing on the Commander.

 

Hyne, how he wanted to kiss those lips. It was such a tease, but he'd been the one to call the brunet out in the first place. The Commander had no clue, lying back like that, it was just screaming `fuck me!'.

 

It wasn't right. Seifer was such an arrogant asshole all the time. Since they were kids, Squall and the knight had hated each other. So how was it possible for the oblivious lion next to him to now be in love with the cocky jerk off?

 

What if the stormy eyed brunet just needed to be taken in order to find release? What if Squall thought Seifer was the only one to do it? The blond bastard had probably pressured Squall into saying it with the threat that they wouldn't have sex. Irvine had already made the offer to help relieve sexual frustration, but Squall was probably too innocent to ever use a friend, so using the enemy was better.

 

“Squall… do you really love him?” the gunman questioned with worry.

 

Pulled from his internal monologue that had mainly consisted of bashing the man who seemed to never leave his mind, Squall stared up in shock at the gunman's profiled face. There was a moment of debate, between telling Irvine that it was nobody's business and between not answering. But it sounded like the auburn haired man already knew.

 

Sighing, Squall concluded that loving Seifer was no more shocking than sleeping with him. “Yes,” he spoke at length. He wanted to kick himself for sounding so content about it.

 

“Why?” Irvine blurted out angrily, turning to look down on the Commander.

 

With a frown, Squall regarded Irvine with an incredulous gaze. The gunman was insane if he thought he'd recount a list of reasons pertaining to why he loved Seifer.

 

Brows drawn in a slightly anguished fashion, violet eyes pleaded for some rationality to it all and perhaps the admittance that it was all a lie. “Why can't it be me?” he accused.

 

Incredulity quickly changed to sheer confusion.

 

**

 

There was a loud fluttering of papers and folders as the tall stack of files Rui carried spilled to the floor. He managed to keep a hold of some, a few, but the sudden jump he'd given after being scared shitless caused the greater portion to slide and crash in a great big mess of now unorganized paper work.

 

Cringing, Rui silently cursed while his heart settled down.

 

In a moment of stillness, Seifer glanced from the petrified boy to the mess littering the corridor outside the apartment. Blinking his jade eyes, he almost wanted to laugh at the kid's expense. Not even apologizing for snapping at the knocking visitor while opening the door, he moved along to what he was more interested in. “Where's Squall?” he asked, shifting his gaze to look around the empty hallway as though the pretty piece of ass would appear out of thin air.

 

“Yeah, sure, no problem sir. I woulda prolly dropped `em anyway, even if you hadn't just scared me half to death!” the former thief berated with a sort of chastising sarcasm.

 

“Where the hell is Squall?” the blond growled in reiteration.

 

Rolling his dark eyes at the ex-knight's overly protective display of always keeping an eye on the Commander, even within Garden walls, Rui answered, “He's with Marlboro man.”

 

Green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Kinneas?” the tall knight uttered as a spoken thought.

 

Picking up on the odd reaction, Rui added, “He wanted to talk with the Commander.”

 

“Where?” Seifer questioned sharply.

 

Taken aback by the blond man's harsh tone, the dark haired boy stuttered, “I, uh, d-didn't see where they went.”

 

“Dammit!” Seifer cursed. Stepping passed the newbie, the ex-knight practically leapt over the paper-strewn area, a small and insignificant gesture, and began stalking away.

 

Stopping abruptly, Seifer turned back. “Shove that shit inside!” he barked to the thieving brat. When the boy seemed incapable of complying, he took a few steps back and leaned down to grab some of the folders and loose papers. With haphazard aim, he chucked them through the open doorway.

 

Though delayed, Rui followed the knight's lead with confusion.

 

Closing the door on the mess, Seifer once again began stalking away. When he noticed the kid wasn't following he turned back and glared impatiently. “Get movin' you thief. It's faster if we both look for him.”

 

With dawning understanding as to what he was supposed to be doing, Rui jogged to close the distance. “Why not call him?” he reasoned logically. He really didn't see the problem. The gunman was supposedly a close friend of Commander Leonhart, they probably hung out together all the time. Why was the war hero's bodyguard all in a huff?

 

“Because,” Seifer grumbled as they swept down the empty hall, “He never keeps his phone on him.”

 

**

 

It was dark, the final rays of a setting sun lost behind the low horizon. The window in the kitchen no longer faced west, so little light had been making it through long before dusk.

 

Seifer didn't bother turning the lights on, he found that if he moved from his place, he'd likely start searching through Garden again or make his way into town. Though it was almost certain that Squall had gone into town, he didn't want to risk the chance of being gone while the Commander returned.

 

The kid had left a little bit ago, the apartment now lacking his annoyed complaining over the huge mess the knight had caused. It had been Seifer's only distraction from his antsy feelings, casting amused glances behind himself to see the thief slowly sorting everything out and trying to smooth out the more crumpled papers, not to mention the playful cat creating a few gouges whilst playing in the mess that slid around when pounced upon. Now, it was silent and he had nothing to do but wait.

 

Waiting was not his strong suit, but running around furiously while searching for Squall was pathetic on its own. It also might stir up trouble. It wasn't like he was incapable of being away from the brunet, far from. Granted, he much preferred being close, but it was certain to become annoying after a while. Still, after the all too recent episode with Epson and the fact that Kinneas had less than innocent intentions, Seifer was beside himself with anxiousness and simmering anger. It didn't help that when the brunet returned, the younger man would find it irrational and overprotective of him.

 

Why was it that this sort of shit always happened on Sundays? He seriously hated Sundays now. There should be a new rule that he and Squall should spend each second day of the weekend locked away in the bedroom doing nothing but having hot, steamy sex. Everyone could be happy then. He wouldn't lose sight of the Commander, he'd get to use that beautifully constructed body for his own purposes, and cowboys wouldn't be nearby to make any lecherous moves. `Okay,' Seifer conceded, so only he'd benefit from the whole locked away on Sunday's idea. But, Squall owed him, after throwing out that walking around nude in the apartment deal.

 

Still, as the ticking of the clock seemed to echo in the darkened living room, the blond found the idea to become exponentially better with each seconds hand tick. He considered taking it out on the black fur ball sleeping soundly on the cushion beside him. It might prove to be even a miniscule distraction if the sleeping pet were awake, acting energetic like before, but he wasn't quite so desperate as to wake a cat for entertainment.

 

Sulking with his impatience, Seifer craned his head back and rest it against the back of the couch. The only assurance he had was that Squall was perfectly able to handle himself and not kindhearted enough to spare a friend the loss of an overly active dick.

 

A fleeting smile graced his face upon remembering the victory his little lion had claimed the other day, pressing that dagger against his groin while those steely silver eyes burned brightly.

 

At the sound of the main door sliding open, Seifer sat straight. Turning slightly, he sat in place with forced patience. Just when he thought he couldn't wait any longer for the tidy brunet to finish taking his shoes off, Squall's form came into view.

 

Seifer wasn't sure what to expect, but he knew what he thought he should be getting, and that was an apology. However, he did not anticipate an angry brunet accusingly glaring at him.

 

Walking closer, Squall shot daggers at the blond knight. Scarce illumination was hardly a factor when expressing such obvious malcontent.

 

“You knew didn't you?” Squall hissed out.

 

Fazed by the unexpected reaction, thinking that he should be the one pissed off, Seifer stared with confusion. After seeing no reason for the lion to bare its teeth, Seifer recalled that he had every right to be pissed. `A couple hours,' his reminded himself. Squall said he'd be gone a couple hours, give or take a few minutes. Not all afternoon. It was dark outside, and he'd been waiting and searching ever corner of Garden for the passed five hours, which didn't include the time for the oh-so-important meeting.

 

Returning the glare, Seifer considered what he'd known that he might be accused of. “I knew you were out gallivanting with the fucking cowboy. I assume you had a fun time, given that you were gone so long without telling me. Why didn't you bring your little boyfriend in to meet me? Or did he kiss you at the door and call it a night?”

 

Scowling, Squall stood just behind the back of the couch while glaring down. At the moment, the brunet was beyond pissed and the knight's comments were taking him to a whole knew level of anger. “Yeah, I'm sure there was nothing that might have taken up my time,” he retorted accusingly.

 

“You left without telling me!” Seifer yelled suddenly. Standing up, he in turn glared down on the brunet.

 

“If I tell you every time I lift a finger, should I also start getting a check up with Kadowaki after every headache?”

 

“I'm here for you Leonhart,” Seifer bit out in reminder.

 

Crossing his arms and clenching his jaw, Squall fought the urge to knock the blond on his tanned ass. “Yes, I assumed the part where we're together means you're here for me. What I'm shady on is the part where you get to order me around like I'm suddenly going to start listening to you, not to mention never leave your side,” the brunet hissed with seething coldness.

 

“I'm your bodyguard.”

 

“So I've been told,” Squall bit out.

 

Lips pressed thin, Seifer resisted the urge to start yelling. He could have gone into town to retrieve the moody princess, but he hadn't for Squall's sake, knowing he'd get pissy. “I let you go. What I'm pissed about is that you left without a word and didn't bother letting me know-”

 

Cutting the ex-knight off, Squall pointed out, “I sent Rui here with the files. You knew who I was with and apparently where I went. Now that your little power trip is over with, I'd like to ask you why you didn't tell me about Irvine.”

 

“Power trip?” Seifer remarked incredulously. “No, this isn't about you doing what I say, this is about the fact that there are a hundred more guys just like Epson out there.”

 

Squall didn't comment on this, he simply glared.

 

“I know princess!” Seifer shouted, reading the brunet's meaning. “You can take care of yourself, in a fair fight.” He stressed the point that didn't seem to have sunken in yet. Squall had no idea how crazy he'd gone when the younger man had been taken from him, and that had been while he was right there to do something about it.

 

Refusing to be deterred, Squall stayed on track with the issue that had brought him in the apartment so angry in the first place. “Irvine kissed me,” he stated flatly. “You knew he liked me, that's why you guys were fighting at The Harold. Did you think it was something I didn't need to know? If you know something you'd better damn well tell me.”

 

Seifer remained silent, not responding and backing down. His gaze broke to stare near the entryway. “I'll fucking kill him,” he muttered to himself. Shaking his head at the loss the rest of the group would feel, Seifer stepped around the couch.

 

Rolling his eyes, Squall took a few steps to the side to block the man's movement. “You're not hurting Irvine,” the shorter brunet spoke quietly, losing some of that anger for the first time.

 

The next moment, Squall was against the nearby wall. Seifer fisted the thin cotton shirt with one hand, pressing the brunet back whilst glaring furiously. “Tell me, did you enjoy it?”

 

Squall's remained unresponsive for all of two seconds. With a right hook that'd make Zell proud, Squall punched Seifer square in the jaw. “Bastard,” he hissed. “It wouldn't have happened if you'd told me!”

 

Dropping away, Seifer took the punch with all its painful strength. Straightening back up, he retorted, “Cowboy didn't tell me shit, it was obvious. You wanna get pissy about bein' blindsided by lecher boy's confession, then maybe you should have opened your eyes.”

 

“He's my friend,” Squall stated. Wasn't there some rule about friends not liking each other in that way?

 

“And I was number one on your hit list! Hyne Squall, look in the mirror for once. You might not find anything interesting in it, but the rest of the world does.”

 

“You need to start telling me everything, before it blows up on me like that,” Squall spoke evenly, though he seemed to have a rather threatening tone. How was he supposed to have known about Irvine? Blindsided was an understated, he'd been ambushed and rendered helpless from shock.

 

“And you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

 

“You're not hurting Irvine,” Squall affirmed.

 

Raising a hand to his stubble-ridden jaw, Seifer gently soothed it and worked it back and forth in a testing manner. “I think we've established that.”

 

“And I didn't enjoy it,” the brunet affirmed once more, glaring at the over reacting knight for his words.

 

Lowering his hand, Seifer stepped closer. “I know,” he whispered apologetically. Reaching out he clasped his fingers beneath the younger man's chin. “Don't make me tail you. I worry. I don't want a repeat of what happened before. Let me be where I can watch over you.”

 

Scoffing, Squall continued to glare.

 

Seifer grinned. The lack of refusal was the most consent he was going to get, as always. Leaning in, he gently pressed his lips against those soft and pliant ones. Snaking an arm around a slim waist, he pulled back enough to comfortably look into his temperamental kitten's eyes. “Trepe would kill me if anything happened,” he said with a smirk.

 

Determined blue eyes were unamused. “You're an overprotective, overly possessive moron, and I won't apologize for anything.” Standing as tall as he could, Squall darted his tongue out and licked the knight's lips. There was the tang of blood, a small cut from the hit. Deserved as it might have been, he had a greater urge to lick it than cause more damage.

 

Seifer chuckled, positively loving his kitten's actions. “Apology accepted,” he murmured as that tongue continued to lick him. “I'm still angry with you,” he stated when the brunet finished.

 

“I'm not a forgiving person,” Squall interjected quickly as Seifer roughly grabbed him and pressed him against the wall in a slightly less enraged manner as before.

 

“That's part of what I like about you Leonhart, you're cold… until I make you cry out my name.”

 

“You talk too much,” Squall declared, wrapping his hands around the blond's neck and pulling him down.

 

Seifer grinned impishly. “I can either yell at you in the morning or spank you tonight,” he offered with a firm squeeze to the Commander's shapely ass.

 

“Shut up,” the blue-eyed Commander growled in response. It had been a rather mind-boggling day, where the events wouldn't quit their constant run through his head. With hopes of becoming completely consumed by Seifer and being able to find a rather pleasurable way to shut his mind down, he didn't want to waste more time.

 

Seifer came to the conclusion that they'd never resolve any of their many arguments if they couldn't stop….

 

As those pout lips parted, Seifer pressed closer, plunging his tongue deeply and tasting that ever-present sweetness. They battled, as they were prone to doing, the kiss a mesh of their tongues and lips vying to keep up and keep control. These moments, the unresolved issues and arguing that were put on hold for the sake of screwing each other, were becoming as ritualistic as their swordplay. It was amazing. It was wet and hot, and above all else addictive.

 

With deft fingers that were becoming more skillful with the practice, Seifer began to make quick work of the stormy eyed man's belts.

 

As the tall knight walked backwards, Squall took the hint and followed without breaking the kiss. His hands kept busy with unbuttoning the blond's shirt.

 

Their progress through the darkened apartment included feverish kissing and panted breaths, every so often a thud would sound as Seifer released one of Squall's belts.