Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Tough Skin ( Chapter 17 )

Chapter Seventeen

Tough Skin

 

Seifer was halfway across the room with Hyperion drawn in preparation to decapitate Headmaster Martine, when he realized Squall was glaring at him and the chair nearby the older man was upturned. Given the stance of the two, he'd say neither had been sitting and that Martine had most likely knocked the padded wooden seat over. It would certainly account for the noise, had it been done forcefully enough.

 

Martine stood on pins and needles, wide eyed and staring at the deadly blade that suddenly looked far sharper and steely upon making him the intended target.

 

“Seifer, it was the chair,” Squall pointed out the obvious, none too certain the protective knight would consider the difference between a chair and his body until after Martine was dead.

 

Practically snarling as he strode closer, Seifer bared his teeth in a nasty sneer. Green eyes were narrowed, dangerously set on a single marker, causing the brunet behind the desk to blanch and move to him.

 

“Seifer,” Squall warned again, a little louder. If Seifer hurt Martine then a hellfire would rain down upon them and resigning would truly be the only option.

 

Though the intimidating ex-knight showed no sign of hearing the Commander, he strode right past Martine, who had begun trembling very slightly. Turning to stand by a smaller brunet, who breathed a sigh of relief, he sheathed the gunblade and folded his arms.

 

With a glare, Seifer spoke, “I don't care if it's just a chair. If it happens again, Hyne herself won't be able to save you Headmaster.”

 

“Seifer, that's enough,” Squall hissed lowly, stormy eyes reprimanding the knight.

 

Nostrils flaring, Galbadia's Headmaster stalked to the edge of the desk, leering across it towards the impudent young Commander. “This is blackmail Leonhart!” he cried.

 

Seifer had been in the middle of drawing Hyperion again, to place a warning cut along the Headmaster's jugular where an accidental slip of the hand wouldn't be completely erroneous. However, at the mention of blackmail, he stopped and gave an incredulous gaze towards his younger counterpart.

 

When the brunet suddenly seemed to become guilt ridden under Seifer's piercing gaze, the blond brimmed with pride. Reaching out, he ruffled unruly strands of chestnut brown hair.

 

Startled, Squall craned his head up to meet green eyes. Silently, he broke away and returned his attention to an enraged Headmaster. He wasn't comfortable dealing with Martine while Seifer was right there to hear what he'd resorted to.

 

“I'm sorry Headmaster,” Squall spoke evenly, sincerely wishing he hadn't needed to extort his power for such a self-motivated cause.

 

“This won't be the end of it. I'm only one person. Zephlar and Xu will speak up. General Caraway will see you're thrown out of office if he has to-”

 

“Get the fuck out!” Seifer yelled, “I'll see you thrown out of this office if you don't leave now.”

 

Trent sidled closer to the Headmaster, frightened but more battle worn than Martine. She placed a hand on the man's shoulder. “Sir,” she spoke, eyeing the pair behind the desk.

 

In the farthest reaches of the blond's mind, he remembered the image he'd tried to display for Galbadia's Commander. Considering he may have just shattered it, he tried to repair it. Sneaking an arm around the brunet's shoulders, he leaned down and placed a kiss to soft hair that carried the pleasantly light scent of Squall's shampoo. He murmured loud enough for his audience to hear, “No more rioters when I'm not in the room. I swear to Hyne, my heart stopped.”

 

In a rush, unwelcome air trailing at their heels, Trent and Martine left. Seifer was a little surprised to see an almost apologetic look to the older woman's eyes as she cast a final glance back at them before going straight for the stairwell, completely ignoring the elevator.

 

At the sound of a door shutting, Seifer tightened his hold. He hadn't been lying about nearly having a heart attack. He was too young and healthy for cardiac arrest, but dammit all if Squall didn't have the most extreme effects on his body.

 

Reluctantly, Seifer dropped his arm and stepped away. Sensing that Squall was upset, and hiding it, he strode to the fallen chair and set it right. “So, are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to wait until you're good `n horny before starting my interrogation.”

 

With a roll of gray-blue eyes, Squall scoffed. Turning from the blond knight, the brunet stubbornly looked out the large window. The sky was overcast with gray clouds. It wasn't the best weather for their last day in FH. Any cadets looking for a hopeful day of sun and warmth would be disappointed, especially when they were back in Balamb and dealing with the onslaught of the cold autumn rains near the mountain range.

 

Silently, Seifer returned to Squall's side, stepping up behind the shorter boy. Firm hands grasped slender shoulders. An array of remarks came to mind, but he spoke none of them. Pressing closely, he wrapped his arms around Squall's shoulder, engulfing the lithe torso and squeezing protectively. He rested his chin on top of the brunet's head, which might have been mocking of their height difference at any other time.

 

Squall's eyes fluttered shut, falling into the warm embrace that set him at ease and washed every bad thing in his life away as though it never happened. He wasn't upset with Martine exactly, more himself. But, feeling Seifer's strong arms around him, it was more than worth it.

 

Sighing, soft lips parted to speak. “He's been having an affair for the past two years. I used it against him, said that if he spoke out against me, us, I'd give the proof to his wife.”

 

Jolting laughter filled the room and vibrated against Squall's back. “That all?” Seifer questioned lightly. “That's the business kiddo, you know that.”

 

“This is different,” Squall said defensively, taking offense to the idea that he of all people didn't know of the darker side to being SeeD. “This was entirely personal. It had nothing to do with right or wrong, just what I wanted. I'm stopping him from expressing his opinions freely.”

 

“And slandering the good Almasy name,” Seifer added with ironic sarcasm. There was little more that could be done to tarnish his name after being Ultimecia's knight. When Squall still seemed bated by the whole affair, he gave a smacking kiss to a sensitive ear, startling the unsuspecting Commander with the noise and action. “You're not making him do anything.”

 

Squall tilted his head so that Seifer couldn't access his ear, finding that it was somewhat of a vulnerable spot, which the blond often used against him without mercy. “I'm threatening him-”

 

Cutting the brunet off, Seifer admonished, “He still has a choice. He can be a dick and go against us, or he can stay silent and continue cheating on his wife in peace.”

 

“Not much of a choice,” Squall muttered darkly, still disliking what he'd done.

 

“No one blackmailed him into screwing the pool boy, he dug himself that hole.” Thinking back on the older man's words, Seifer added, “He's got balls to use marriage as some cover story, making himself out to be some saint.”

 

With a noncommittal grunt, Squall conceded. What was done, was done, no use fretting over it. Turning as much as he could in the tight hold, he flopped his head against the knight's shoulder. “And it wasn't the pool boy. It was a call girl.”

 

Adjusting his arms, Seifer hugged the brunet about the waist and let his head bow against the nape of a pale neck. “From the way he was checking you out in those tiny briefs, I would've bet my money on a pool boy. But, I suppose you bring out the homoerotic in every man alive, don't you.” He received a light push for that, but nothing more as they remained pressed flush against each other.

 

It became clear that Squall's guilt was born of hurt, hearing for the first time all the negatives about being with another man and a former knight. And for that, Seifer kept his hold tight, wishing it could be easier, but not willing to give it up for anything. He was selfish, and would not let Squall go, even if the Commander was hurt by it.

 

For Seifer, the whole idea of letting a bird fly free if you truly loved it was total crap. He'd clip Squall's wings and keep the strikingly beautiful young man under lock and key, anything to keep his lover near.

 

However, he would still do everything in his power to ease tense shoulders and take as much weight off of an Ice Prince who wasn't quite used to such brutal public attacks. In general, neither of them tended to give any credence to what others said, but there was no doubt that this was entirely different.

 

It would be difficult not to take every remark personal when it would deal with such a personal subject. As it was, Seifer may not have cared about Headmaster Martine's opinion, but he cared about the effect it had on Squall. His concern for Squall would be his weakness against public scrutiny.

 

“What are the odds of getting bombarded in town?” the ex-knight asked randomly, filling any silence that had begun in the empty office.

 

“Slim,” Squall answered, already used to not being able to follow most of Seifer's thoughts.

 

“Let's go fishing or something, we can eat out.” After a moment, he added, “We can find Laguna and drag him along too.” Seifer kind of liked the goofball. The president was Squall's dad anyway, not like he could dislike the guy. Besides, he'd had Squall all to himself yesterday, so he should probably share before the others complained.

 

Squall groaned at the suggestion, recalling the sopping wet end to his last excursion in town with his father.

 

Seifer jostled Squall in his arms. Staggering towards the Commander's comfortable, high backed leather chair, he pulled the brunet with him, nearly lifting the young man off the ground.

 

Not speaking, not even a sound of protest, Squall let Seifer drag him along. It was too comfortable against the blond's broad chest to complain.

 

Landing with an ungraceful plop, Seifer loosened his hold so that Squall could better join him. He guided slim hips so that the sultry kitten's shapely butt fell right in his lap, perhaps tempting the fates by placing any part of Squall's anatomy so near his groin. As he leaned back and propped his legs upon the neat surface of the mahogany desk, Squall conformed in a similar position atop him. He received the distinct impression that his quiet lover was mocking him in the way booted feet, two sizes smaller than his own, thudded as if in point of relaxing better than him.

 

Squall was practically horizontal when he rested his head back, loving the feel of being directed instead of directing. It proved uncomfortable after a moment, so he shifted. Taking great care not to squish a rather sensitive part of Seifer that he'd come to enjoy, he swung his leg to the side after lifting off the blond with the aid of the armrests.

 

Seifer marveled at Squall's inherent grace, slipping into place so smoothly as though it were a practiced skill, as though the brunet had been sitting in daddy's lap all his life. The knight's brows drew together at the thought of Squall in another man's lap.

 

“What is it?” Squall asked as Seifer's hands clamped down on his hips. He settled back down, legs bent and draped over the side.

 

Considering the question for a moment, Seifer decided he wasn't insane with jealousy because Squall had not been with another person before. Rinoa was hardly competition. Any images that he might conjure for his own jealous torture were faceless, and therefore ridiculous to consider as threats. Squall sat in no one's lap but his. Only he, Seifer Almasy, could reach up and cup that delicate face, drawing the brunet in for a lingering kiss as he did right then.

 

“I'll go,” Squall managed to agree against slick lips. It might not be the nicest day, but it would be the warmest one he'd see for a while.

 

Grinning, Seifer teased the pale boy, groping fingers along the ridges of Squall's ribs, tickling the pretty Commander. Just as Squall began to draw back, he held him in place, not letting the kiss end.

 

With a contented sigh, significant of satisfying a thirst for the moment, they broke apart. Squall laid back, his legs to the side, but his upper body twisting slightly so that his back was almost against the knight's muscled chest. A supportive arm wrapped around his shoulders, Seifer's hands laced together and placed against his right thigh.

 

Perhaps it was the result of letting the world know about him and Seifer, but sitting there with the office door open, Squall hardly felt troubled about being seen at such an intimate moment. He wouldn't have liked someone walking in, but unlike a day or two ago, he wouldn't scramble to compose himself in desperation to not be caught lingering in Seifer's lap.

 

**

 

Lunch for the gang included two new additions to the group and piling into a small diner near the docks.

 

Pushing two of the largest tables together, nine bodies became the focus of that diner.

 

The owner didn't seem to mind, having no more than two people enter all day. A small town did small business, but didn't shy away from a crowd if they were decent people. At Fred's Shack, it was just Fred Bell and his wife Freda Bell.

 

Zell and Greta sat at one end, listening to Freda as she talked about how her and her husband wanted to settle down some place remote and open a small café together.

 

Laguna and Selphie were immersed in the details on the festival. The stage was done, just needing a few finishing touches that the copper haired woman hadn't been able to cajole the workers into doing. The men from FH had something against glitter, she just knew they did.

 

Rui struggled in horror to sit down in his own seat, but to no avail. Squall wasn't sure if he should speak up for the boy or not. Selphie was talking to the longhaired President across from her while keeping a vice grip on the kid, who obviously felt uncomfortable and mortified to be sitting right in her lap.

 

It occurred to Squall that Selphie might not have realized that Rui wasn't six years old, but fifteen. Granted, he was a little small for a fifteen year old, but he was still not that much younger than any of them, Laguna aside. There was also to fact that Selphie was the next smallest among them, making her hardly any bigger than Rui, and the least fit to have the boy sitting in her lap.

 

“Stop moving around, you've got a bony butt,” Selphie interrupted her own sentence to bite out.

 

“I can sit on my own,” Rui complained.

 

Irvine watched with sharp eyes. For the boy's sake, that blush had better be from embarrassment. “Darlin' let the kid go.”

 

“But, I love him!” she declared loudly, squeezing him tightly and shaking back and forth. “You should have seen him. He was all, `Don't talk about the Commander that way.'” She dropped her voice to try and imitate Rui, whose voice actually wasn't nearly as low as Selphie managed to pull off, “And they were all, `Oh yeah, you wanna fight punk?'”

 

Everyone stopped for a moment to watch Selphie's antics.

 

“And then, and then,” she continued excitedly, recounting the story for the tenth time with yet another different set of quotes, “Rui was all like, `I'll never let you get away with talking about him like that again, he's like a big brother to me!'”

 

“I did not say that!” Rui cried in embarrassed outrage.

 

“And then,” the energetic pilot plowed on, pulling Rui closer so she could better see every person, “Five seniors who were on steroids came after him.”

 

“There were two,” Rui mumbled in correction, questioning the sanity of the woman speaking.

 

Zell jumped up from his seat, enthralled by Selphie's storytelling. Boxing the air and hopping from foot to foot, he remarked, “They always gotta use numbers against the good ones.”

 

“You mean short ones, Dincht. Valdez will be taller than you in another year.” Seifer corrected, earning a glare from the spiky haired blond.

 

“Rui almost had them,” Selphie continued, debating whether she should stand up and use Zell to reenact the scene.

 

“They beat the shit out of me,” Rui groaned, raising a tentative hand to a swollen black eye and split lip.

 

“You're my hero!” Selphie exclaimed, snuggling the boy so tightly that he gave an exhaling yelp.

 

“Then what happened?” Zell asked. Thus far the story had been retold for the sake of each person Selphie met that day, he was the last one.

 

“Well the fight was hardly fair, so I-”

 

Irvine cut in, “So you used your new found ability to cast magic like you're throwing your voice. Now there are two senior cadets who think Rui was junctioned when he's not allowed, and because of his relationship with Squall, everyone will think the Commander's bending the rules in a game of favorites.”

 

In a pout, Selphie shot the gunman a dejected glare. No one could deflate her balloon like the ranger of the group. “Sorry Squall, I couldn't help it.”

 

Squall didn't reply.

 

With a ruffle of the Commander's hair, Seifer spoke up, “Thanks all the same Tilmitt, but this shit is bound to happen. We'll just have to let Kadowaki know that potions can be used to patch up everyone who supports the Commander.”

 

“Seifer!” Quistis chastised sternly, “We can not afford to break any rules like that.”

 

“Come one Trepe, you know you want to slip Valdez a potion in his drink right now,” the blond knight returned.

 

“Be that as it may,” Quistis conceded with a reassuring smile towards the dark haired boy, “It simply cannot be done.”

 

“It's fine,” Rui declared, “I swiped… nothing from their wallets,” he finished oddly after looking into bright gray-blue eyes and remembering what Squall had told him about pick-pocketing. Suffice to say, lunch was on him that day.

 

Without much notice, Greta stood and received a warm kiss from her husband before following Freda into the kitchens.

 

“You know,” Laguna spoke, directing his attention to the youngest member of the group, “There's something I've always wondered. How is it that pickpockets always know where my wallet is?”

 

Rui cast a quick scan towards the ex-knight, seeming to ask the blond if the longhaired man was serious. “Ever read one of those warning signs they always post around the city?”

 

“Yeah,” Laguna answered, “Though I don't think they put them in the right place. My wallet's always in place when I read one.”

 

Rui tried not to laugh. This guy was as innocent as a newborn. “Next time you read one, don't check to see if you've got your wallet still.”

 

Frowning, Laguna regarded Rui suspiciously. “That's what Kiros always told me when we'd go to Deling City as soldiers. But, then I'm wondering about it.”

 

Seifer forced himself not to laugh at his father-in-law's expense. “Well, it's not like you're roaming the streets without a guard nowadays Loire.”

 

“True,” Laguna agreed.

 

“Can I sit down now?” Rui asked in exasperation.

 

“Only if I can give you a kiss,” Selphie returned.

 

Considering the copper haired girl said it as a suggestion, Rui hadn't expected to receive the succession of pecks on his cheek immediately after. Blushing furiously, he scrambled to the empty chair nearby, wondering why he put up with it. He gulped when he realized violet eyes were burning a hole in his head.

 

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose. The liking Selphie had taken to Rui had not been entirely unexpected when he'd initially called upon her to help Rui get settled in to a new dorm. Still, the brunet wondered if the younger boy might have been better off thieving the streets of Dollet.

 

“Where are Raijin and Fujin?” Quistis questioned with a glance at her watch. If the duo didn't show up soon, they'd eat without them.

 

Clearing his throat, Seifer explained, “They'll show up whenever they can manage to stumble out of bed.” He grinned impishly at his mischief making. Technically Raijin never said he couldn't tell anyone. “`Sides, someone's gotta look after the place while we're all here.”

 

“Dude,” Zell piped up, “I so knew they were together.” Leaning way down the table, he extended a gloved hand towards Irvine, “Pay up baby!”

 

 

TBC…