Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Cold Pizza ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter Eight

Cold Pizza

 

“You're full of it. The Commander would never be caught dead doing something like that,” spoke an assured voice.

 

“I swear, I saw it!” defended another.

 

“What exactly did you see?”

 

“Ultimecia's knight was bent over the chair that Commander Leonhart was sitting in. He said he was helping the Commander with something in his eye, but he totally looked like he'd just been making out.”

 

“Maybe there really was something in his eye,” the first voice suggested.

 

“His lips were wet,” the second defended the speculation she'd turned into fact.

 

“He could have licked them or just drank something.”

 

“I'm telling you, they were kissing.”

 

The first girl, who was slightly more level headed, refuted, “You have no proof.”

 

Groaning in exasperation, the delivery girl named Stacey pointed out, “You saw the way they were fighting the other day, I mean, it was like they were doing the tango or something. And, remember when the prince was pinned? They kissed!”

 

“More like Almasy was teasing Commander Leonhart. Instructor Tilmitt said so herself.”

 

“No way, you could totally see it in his eyes. Hyne, his eyes are so green, don't you love them?”

 

“I thought you were in love with the Commander,” the older girl reminded.

 

“I am,” the bleach blond remarked indignantly. “I'm just saying that Seifer Almasy is pretty hot too.”

 

The first girl mumbled a bit, “I won't argue with you there.”

 

“What if they're having a love affair? Maybe that's why Rinoa Heartilly isn't around anymore…. You know, I hear that before the war they had some special relationship going on.”

 

“They hated each other before the war. You weren't here yet. Trust me, they were always fighting.”

 

“You know what they say,” the younger one sang, “There's a fine line between love and hate.” Giving off an excited squeal, the cadet named Stacey remained undeterred by the presence of her more reasonable friend. “I bet they're involved. How hot would that be?”

 

“Hot?” the older girl questioned incredulously. “They're two guys. Neither of which I can even imagine having a social life. I mean, the Ice Prince isn't exactly the first person you think about doing those sorts of things.”

 

“That's what's so great about it. I bet he's like a whole different person in the bedroom.” The blonde emphasized her point by wriggling her eyebrows.

 

“Hyne, stop that. He's our Commander.”

 

“Yeah, our really, really, really, sexy Commander.”

 

With a sigh the first girl refrained from refuting the truth. “I still don't think you can just jump to conclusions like that when you didn't actually see what they were doing. Maybe it was like a shard of glass or something painful. That could be why he was concerned and so close to the Commander. I mean, that shit hurts, and it makes you really wanna get it out.”

 

“Don't be stupid, there was nothing in his eye.”

 

“You don't know that.”

 

“I'm telling you, they were totally kissing. I bet if I'd walked in five minutes later, they would have been on top of the desk doing a lot more.”

 

 

 

It didn't take long for the rumors to start. And it was indeed more than one rumor, since the wild exaggerations made one entirely different from the next. As the game of telephone continued, the scenario changed drastically. The cadets of Balamb Garden were positively buzzing with excitement over the mere hinting of their Ice Prince involved in a love affair

 

Some rumors were about Ultimecia's knight pinning the Commander down on the couch and kissing. Others were about how they were actually having sex on the desk. For the most part, they stayed within the realm of kissing and groping, the idea of the Commander actually having sex in his office too far fetched to believe. Then again, the fact that the pairing was always Seifer Almasy and Squall Leonhart wasn't exactly believable either.

 

Being juicy news, believability didn't really factor in. After the fight in the Training Center, a handful of star struck cadets who were proud members of Commander Leonhart's fan club, had been drooling over the ending kiss of the match. To hear these new rumors sent them over the edge as they got together and speculated on the most romantic possible stories to go along with stolen kisses and pent up feelings.

 

It was positively delicious to think that something was really going on. Rivals in love, hiding their feelings because they were both men and would be shunned by society. Torn apart by a war only to be reunited and confess years of longing for each other.

 

However, for every giggling supporter with dreamy eyes, there were less than enthused cadets grumbling about such false lies. The Commander would never let someone like Ultimecia's knight touch him.

 

For the most part, the two groups were divided by a predominantly sex oriented line. The boys were either jealous that someone else might have laid claim to the Balamb Lion or they were angry because of the respect they had for the Commander. The girls were either dreamy eyed in support or angry because of the respect they had for the Commander. In general, the only supporters were the female cadets who had absolutely no contingencies with gay relationships and felt that seeing the pretty boy leader with another man was better than with another woman.

 

**

 

“I'm so hungry,” Seifer whined.

 

“So eat something,” Squall absently supplied in answer.

 

The blond knight frowned, only his lips visible while an arm was draped over the rest of his face. Lying down on the comfortable couch in the Headmaster's office, Seifer peeked from the crook of his elbow. Upon seeing a disinterested Squall, he groaned in exaggerated complaint.

 

Signing the appropriate line for his name, Squall officially approved the contract requesting SeeDs as scouts to once again scour the desert prison. It had been sometime since he'd seen any request that wasn't for recovery purposes, most cities in need of any help. But, there seemed to be suspicious activity going on around D-District detention center. General Caraway was once again hiring Balamb's finest over the closer hands of Galbadia.

 

The prospect of trouble was almost welcome in the peaceful after math of the sorceress war. Not that Squall was against peace, but it was terrible for paying the bills of a mercenary facility. If the scouts found something, then Caraway would no doubt also make a contract for them to take care of it.

 

Squall's only contingency on the matter was that Galbadia Garden's Commander might make a ruckus over not being chosen. And considering the news that on the brink of breaking world wide, Squall did not need any more fuel adding to the fires that were going to be blazing.

 

Still, money was money, and he needed to make sure his mercenaries saw more combat than in the Training Center. He had no use for sluggish and inexperienced SeeD.

 

Distantly, he registered that Seifer was impatient and growing annoyed with his continued working. “Just a little longer,” he soothed with little assurance.

 

Growling, Seifer pointed out, “You said that three hours ago!”

 

“Hmm,” Squall intoned, already lost in another report. Frowning, he cross-referenced some information with the files on his laptop, quite successfully ignoring the knight.

 

“Squall,” Seifer whined, having resorted to the most pathetic of antics after trying everything but physically lifting the Commander and making off to the cafeteria.

 

“Order something,” Squall suggested, peeking from behind the screen of his portable computer and gesturing to the intercom on his desk with a pen. Before he could turn his attention back to Operation 43890, his eyes caught sight of the closed laptop resting on Seifer's chest. Brows furrowed, he refrained from questioning about it. He recalled that Seifer had gone and returned several times throughout the day, never away for more than twenty minutes or so.

 

Seifer was beyond stir crazy, hating how Squall made it look so easy. The princess had probably mastered staying still in one place for hours on end, forming an art out of it.

 

“If I order something, it'll ruin my appetite for the dinner that we should have been at fifteen minutes ago.” Seifer nearly failed to keep a straight face while saying that. He'd been waiting for Squall to realize that they were expected President Goofball's place, he'd even thrown in a few hints about being hungry.

 

“Shit,” Squall cursed, abruptly standing up. In his scatter-brained moment of instinctively rushing off to Laguna's he nearly rounded his desk without second thought to all his work. Turning back, he gathered the papers with quick hands and stacked them neatly. Quistis would collect them, the majority being finished. With his laptop shut down, he was ready to leave.

 

Seifer watched with amusement as the Commander tried to make haste. It was cute.

 

Squall was half way across the room when his conscience spoke up. Turning back once again, he sighed at the added delay. “Call Laguna,” Squall requested.

 

Chuckling, Seifer reached in his pocket and drew his phone out. Having taken all information from the brunet's hardly used cell phone, he had dear old daddy-in-law stored somewhere in his phone's contacts list.

 

As the ex-knight called his father, Squall packed his computer in to its carrying bag along with several folders and reports.

 

“Princess, you aren't working on those tonight,” Seifer spoke while holding the phone to his ear. “No not you,” he corrected into the phone as Laguna picked up a little earlier than expected. “It's your favorite son-in-law,” he continued.

 

Gray-blue eyes narrowed.

 

Seifer stifled laughter as he dodged a letter opener, which promptly stuck into the wall behind himself. “Naw, your baby's fine, just running late. We'll be there in a few minutes.”

 

“Seifer,” Squall warned with ill concealed anger.

 

Green eyes shot the Commander a look that said it was payback for being made to sit around all day doing nothing but office work. However, Seifer's expression changed to one of confusion. Frowning, he looked at nothing on the floor. “No, his eyes are fine,” the blond eventually spoke in answer to the question asked by the longhaired man on the other end.

 

“What was that about?” Squall asked as Seifer hung the phone up.

 

“Nothin',” the blond brushed off. “Let's go.”

 

Adjusting the bag's strap to rest across his chest, Squall gave a nod and strode from behind his desk. This time he was ready to leave.

 

With a nod, Seifer simply set his own laptop on the couch and trusted that the Headmaster's office was not often broken into. Besides, between encrypted files and passwords, he doubted it would matter.

 

**

 

Pizza was hardly a homemade meal, but since Laguna had gone all the way into the small port town of Balamb to pick it up, the trouble made it special. By the time Squall arrived it was already cold.

 

“Sorry I'm late,” Squall apologized before even stepping all the way into the guest quarters.

 

“That's fine, we're in the kitchen,” Laguna called out to his son, his voice distant.

 

The room, or rather studio, was reserved for special guests. This included presidents of technologically advanced countries. It was spacious, at least three times the size of Squall's own quarters, and held extra comforts. As a military facility, Balamb Garden was not designed to serve as a ritzy five star hotel such as the ones Dollet was famous for, but it was more than sufficient.

 

The living room was a dropped flat, a step lower than the rest of the open space. Boxed in by smooth wooden flooring, the square shaped area was covered in a soft but durable carpet of slate gray. A black leather couch ran along two sides of the area, seating eight people with elbowroom to spare. The big screen on the wall was what peeked Seifer's jealousy, as he wondered why the Commander wasn't allotted such a sleek entertainment system, fully equipped with surround sound. Bedrooms were hidden down a corridor that led off from a nearby alcove and the kitchen was enclosed on the other side by a swinging door.

 

In a homely manner, the off white walls were adorned with black and white stills from decades ago when Balamb Garden was first created. The pictures of half constructed machinery were art in their own right, and stood as history's reminder that Garden meant so much more than `mercenaries for hire'.

 

Traditional black and white square tiles patterned the kitchen's floor. As in most dorms, windows were scarce, but within the kitchen there was a set of tall French styled windows that served as doors to a balcony. Nearby was a small booth for eating, which was where two white boxes of pizza were placed.

 

“Is there a second floor?” Seifer questioned with none too disguised jealousy as his green eyes spotted a stairway in the kitchen.

 

“There's a small library and office upstairs,” Squall explained. It was common sense for foreign officials to have their own workspace. However, he protested such luxuries for his own use, no matter how much easier it might his life.

 

“I suppose there was some emergency that kept you,” Quistis jibed from her place across from President Loire.

 

“Not really,” Squall replied, “Lost track of time.” He took a moment to ponder the presence of the blonde instructor.

 

When crystal blue eyes keenly examined the Commander's youthful face for any hidden meaning, Seifer rolled his eyes and added, “It's fruitless to tear him away from work, you of all people know that.” Directing his words more towards the longhaired man than Trepe, he continued, “He's never satisfied, but he made quite the exception tonight and nearly ran out of his office without locking up when he saw the clock.”

 

The blond knight's words brought a rather goofy grin to the President's face. Laguna couldn't help but feel all warm and fuzzy at the thought of his serious son suddenly becoming flustered upon realizing he was late.

 

Quistis was quite perceptive on the ex-knight's tactics, but could not chide him for it when Laguna seemed secretly pleased. With a sigh, the Head Instructor conceded that being nearly a half hour late was better than not showing up at all. “The pizza's cold, but I like it better that way.”

 

Laguna suddenly seemed awestruck. “Me too!” he cried triumphantly. Hazel green eyes searched for understanding from the youthful crowd. There was a prolonged moment of near silence, only broken by Quistis' stifled laughing. “Kiros and Ward always rag on me for that,” he mumbled dejectedly, a mild blush creeping up when he realized he was not around Ward or Kiros at the moment.

 

With amusement, Quistis assured the man that he wasn't misunderstood. “Selphie gives me hell for it. We do pizza nights on Saturdays almost every week, and I always eat last.”

 

“Right,” Seifer interjected, jade eyes darting from blonde instructor to raven haired President. “Why're you here exactly Trepe?” he questioned suspiciously.

 

Affronted, Quistis regarded the tanned knight with her glasses atop her head and stray wisps hanging from a simple ponytail. “Because I want to be,” she answered vaguely.

 

Squall rolled his eyes at Seifer's need to create confrontation where there was none. “Cold is just as good,” he stated before pointedly taking a seat beside his father.

 

“So what's on the venue?” Quistis questioned seeing that Laguna hadn't exactly planned beyond the time and place to be with his son. Talking with Squall was a chore at times, more often than not really.

 

The brunet gave his former instructor a confused look. It wasn't usual to talk about work outside of the office. “Caraway wants us at D-District again.”

 

“He always thinks something's going on there,” the blonde woman supplied as prompting before helping herself to the first slice. No plates or napkins necessary, she tried to set a comfortable mood.

 

Arrogant to a fault, Seifer carried on as though he still led the conversation. “I hope you're not babysitting us tonight Trepe. Wouldn't standing out on the balcony with binoculars be less obvious?”

 

“I'm not here to spy,” the bright-eyed woman stated.

 

Laguna scratched his head before tucking stray strands of his long hair behind his ear. “I

called her about you,” he looked at his boy, “and uh….”

 

“And, I asked if I could come over and keep him company since Kiros left this morning for Esthar,” Quistis finished after taking a tentative bite. With a small smile she informed Squall, “This is as good as Ma Dincht's.”

 

Seifer, who had sat down next to his favorite instructor, reached over and forced a slice into the Commander's unmoving hands. “Eat,” he whispered in reprimand. Sitting back he responded to Trepe's comment, “Don't let Chicken-wuss hear you say that.”

 

“Stop calling him that,” Quistis chided.

 

“What?” Seifer defended innocently, “I stopped using it around him.”

 

“Only because Squall won't let you,” she corrected.

 

“You got any hot sauce in this joint?” Seifer asked Laguna.

 

Perking up at the reminder of the tongue burning condiment, the slightly uncomfortable President answered, “It's in the fridge, grab both kinds.”

 

“Any beer?” the tall knight questioned as he stood up.

 

“Just what's been sent up, I don't usually drink the stuff.” It didn't really occur that anyone in the room might have been a little young for drinking, none of them seemed their age. He seemed younger than he was and they seemed older.

 

Squall frowned after taking a tentative nibble. He didn't drink, never had. It was a weakness in respect to a mission, but some people became alcoholics and still had no stamina for it, so there really was no point in trying for the sake of tolerance.

 

“While you're up, I'd like a glass of water,” Quistis requested, though it sounded more like an order.

 

“Yes, mistress of the whips and chains, but only because you asked so nicely,” Seifer retorted scanning the contents of the refrigerator which would only be a temporarily used one.

 

Quistis studied the back of Seifer's forest green sweater, more interested in the tense nature of his back than the actual shirt. Leaning in slightly, she spoke to Squall, “You should lighten up with the office work. You know he's going to follow you. It'll kill him if you keep it up more than a few days.”

 

“I have work,” Squall defended, not seeing where there was any problem.

 

“How did you feel when you first became Headmaster?” Quistis shot slyly.

 

Impassively, Squall tried to regard his all knowing second in command as coolly as possible. She saw through it however and gave him that look that seemed to claim victory of the argument. Rolling his gray-blue eyes, he habitually brushed longish bangs from his face. “It's not like he has to stay in one place, he left a few times.”

 

“Only for ten minutes,” Quistis reminded, “And only to get his own work.”

 

Brows drawn together, Squall seemed to grow interested in the sense that the first traces of emotion were detectable in his eyes, whereas before it seemed more of an appeasement to carry on the conversation. “What?” he asked.

 

Chewing another bite of the room temperature pizza, the blonde instructor began to elaborate, “For the-”

 

With a noisy chink, Seifer set a glass of water before the loud mouthed blonde. “There you are, straight from a bottle and chilled to perfection. Now kindly change the subject.”

 

“Seifer,” Squall spoke in mild warning.

 

With no mind to manners, Seifer blatantly ignored the brunet and cracked the beer cap off on the side of the table. Raising it, he passed it over to the longhaired man who seemed content to simply listen in. “Later princess,” he admonished upon receiving a harsh glare. Just as plush lips parted to speak yet again, Seifer opened his own beer. Raising the bottle as he'd done to pass it, he held it aloft in gesture for cheering.

 

Resigned to civility, and the fact that there were no letter openers or knives within reach, Squall took hold of the bottle of water Seifer had set down for him.

 

In an awkward clashing of beer bottles, a glass, and a plastic water container they paid homage to the meal they'd already begun eating. Curious blue-gray eyes never left jade ones, staring intensely and for such a long time that Laguna and Quistis wound up staring back and forth with no clue as to what exchange was being made.

 

Seifer was stubbornly trying to win the staring contest, so when he spoke he didn't break the gaze. “I hear you're a regular movie star Loire, acting in your own film and everything.”

 

Laguna nearly choked. Wide eyed and with rising heat in his cheeks, he muttered nervously, “It was just a… well, it was more an accident really… or rather like….”

 

“Rather like a pushy director looking for someone who knew how to fight,” Quistis input for the flustered president. “It was one of Ellone's more memorable trips down memory lane,” she explained her knowledge on the matter.

 

“Hyne, she showed you that?” the raven-haired man questioned with mortified devastation.

 

Laughing, Quistis clutched her stomach to try and keep it under control. Already the poor man looked ready to crawl into a hole. Afraid that he might really feel bad, she assured him that her laughter was for other reasons, “It was cute, really.”

 

If possible, Laguna blushed more, finally drawing Seifer and Squall from their own little world.

 

“Cute?” Squall questioned. As he recalled it had been sheer featherbrained stupidity. Mentally sighing, he realized that this was one of his father's most charming and endearing qualities. However, at the time of the little dream sequence he harbored no such attachments and still found that incident to be little else other than embarrassing.

 

“Yeah, cute,” Quistis defended her choice in adjective. “Selphie has it at her place on disk.”

 

This seemed to the nail in the coffin as Laguna slumped forward and covered his eyes with a hand. “Burn it,” he demanded.

 

“Are you kidding?” the instructor remarked incredulously, “Do you know how rare dragons are these days? Not counting the Blue Dragon, there are only four known species left, none of which have been recorded on film, except for this one.”

 

Drawn from his mortified stupor, Laguna regarded the studious woman across from himself. “You know we ended up killing that thing.”

 

With a wave of her hand Quistis dismissed it. “I'm not campaigning to breed them, we would have done the same. Did you scan it? I'd love to know the stats on it. We have the Training Center running on simulators now, so it'd be great if I could show the cadets something like that.”

 

For most of the dinner, which slowing dwindled down to a few slices and abundance of crusts, Seifer and Squall cast silent glances at each other. Laguna and Quistis seemed to have jumped from one point to the next, be it monsters and the best places to gain experience, or the preferred method of dealing with anything diplomatic.

 

Full of awkward moments, it was still quite an improved flow of simply being together. At least, Squall didn't feel so pressured and stressed to be something he wasn't and Laguna didn't seem overly concerned about pushing his son away.

 

TBC….