Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Is It Pointless to Fight? ( Chapter 23 )

Chapter Twenty-Three

Is It Pointless to Fight?

 

Quistis sat quietly, sipping a caramel latte while gazing out the large glass barrier set between the cafeteria and the small courtyard outside. It was snowing again, another day that promised an inch or two. The major storms were known to start around the end of December, but usually didn't hit until late January.

 

It was her sneaking suspicion that Squall returned to the higher elevations of Balamb as quickly as possible for the sake of giving Selphie's festival a real winter setting. The worst they would have gotten in Fisherman's Horizon would be a chilly sea breeze, which didn't do much to stir up the winter festival spirit.

 

It wasn't particularly early to be out and about that morning, but given that classes were out, she was one of very few people up at seven o'clock. Greta was shuffling in and out of the kitchens, making ready for the later scheduled breakfast hour that had thus far been a hit the first two days of the vacation week.

 

Considering that a large number of cadets went home for the break, there was rarely more leftover food than Zell could handle.

 

“How's the drink?” Greta asked in passing, swiping her hands clean of trace amounts of powdered sugar.

 

“Wonderful, thank you,” the Head Instructor replied.

 

Smiling, Greta gave pause in a moment of debate. “Congratulations by the way. Zell told me the good news.”

 

Beaming proudly, Quistis acknowledged once again that she had just been made Headmistress, effective in less than two weeks. “When you're finished setting up, why not join me? I could drink another cup and I'm afraid that if I keep thinking to myself like this then I'll turn into Squall.”

 

“Give me a few minutes then, I'm nearly done.”

 

Just as the redheaded chef disappeared, a lightening bolt of yellow flashed and brought Selphie right to Quistis feet. Huffing dramatically, Selphie gestured with her hands animatedly, signaling something without using words.

 

Quirking a single eyebrow, Quistis regarded Selphie with expectant amusement.

 

Straightening indignantly, Selphie stomped her booted foot. The sound was louder since they were standard SeeD boots and not her usual brown suede ones. Beneath her jumper she had on flaring blue denim pants, since she'd woken up and felt particularly cold that day.

 

“What is it?” the blonde asked when the green eyed girl remained silent.

 

“Quisty,” the copper haired young woman groaned. “When I do this,” she referred to her wild gesturing while demonstrating the movement once again, “it means something big is up.”

 

“Uh-huh,” the blonde woman intoned with indifferent agreement.

 

“When I do this,” she continued to gesture, hands flapping around and arms flailing pointlessly in the air, “it means you get up and start running in the general direction I'm pointing at.”

 

Crystal blue eyes blinked. Quistis used her index finger to push her glassed further up her nose. “You weren't really pointing in any one direction,” the instructor commented.

 

Hands flopping down dejectedly to her side, Selphie sighed. “I give up,” she said, turning and walking away.

 

“Selphie,” Quistis called out. “What'd you come to tell me?”

 

Whirling around, copper hair bouncing with the movement, Selphie stuck her tongue out and grinned. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

 

Trying to hide her amusement, Quistis found herself failing as she started to laugh.

 

“It's not funny,” Selphie chastised. “Squall is meeting with General Caraway right now. Let's go.”

 

Smile falling, the bright-eyed blonde regarded her younger friend seriously. “I didn't know the General was coming.”

 

“Neither did I,” Selphie shot back affronted. “Not until I saw him going up to the elevator. I wonder where Rinoa is?”

 

“Well,” Quistis started, shifting in her seat a bit, “If it's Commander business, we can't just show up. And if it's not, I think there's even more reason not to get involved.”

 

“Involved?” the younger woman questioned. “Who wants to get in the middle of something this juicy? I just meant that I already got Irvine and Zell up at the secretary's desk, so I just came to get you and Greta.”

 

At the look of incredulous confusion, Selphie explained further, “I learned this neat trick from Rui. I wired the intercom so we can hear what's going on. I haven't figured out how to tap it from another area, not the secured lines anyway, so we'll have to risk being outside his office.”

 

“Selphie!” Quistis exclaimed with shock. “The General has put a request for SeeD in, this could very well be a private meeting to discuss the contract. You can't listen in on that.”

 

Silently, Selphie thought that she also wasn't allowed to watch Squall and Seifer having sex, but she'd done it anyway. “Oh please, I heard Caraway's opening line. He said he was disappointed after treating Squall like a son. That doesn't sound like Commander business to me.”

 

Biting her lip, Quistis resisted the infectious urge to learn more. Shaking her head, she straightened in her seat. “I'm not going. I advise you to send everyone else away.”

 

“If you want us to not listen, you'll have to come and clear us out yourself,” she lilted as if dangling some tantalizing piece of food before the starved woman's eyes.

 

“Morning Selphie,” Greta greeted, carrying two mugs in her hands.

 

“Greta!” the copper haired woman cried, startling the woman so that some of Quistis' second latte sloshed over the side of the cup. “You have to come with me.”

 

“Selphie,” Quistis reprimanded, her stern voice holding a finality that only came out when talking to cadets. “Greta and I are busy. When you go up, I expect you to tell everyone else to leave and then to do so yourself. If Zell isn't here to join Greta and myself in ten minutes, I'm calling Seifer's cell phone and letting him deal with you.”

 

“Why not call Squall?” Selphie fired back with a defiant air, as if daring her babysitter to call her parents.

 

“Because, Squall would kill you all and then where would we be without so many instructors?”

 

Pouting, Selphie stuck her tongue out before fleeing. Her intended destination was Laguna's room. She'd grab Laguna, go to the office, tell Zell to vamoose, and then eavesdrop.

 

**

 

Seifer shifted in his seat, casually crossing his long legs and reclining as if watching a good game on TV. Truthfully, he was becoming aroused and didn't want to distract his kitten because of it. Neither his black dress pants nor untucked plum-red dress shirt would disguise any bulges.

 

The way Squall moved, that confident stalk as Commander, was like a lion toying with its prey. The belt jostling sway of those hips set his loins on fire. Squall's hips flared in such a slight manner that screamed at anyone who took notice. Those hips were saying, `Grab me. Hold me in place while you fuck me so hard that I break, and then fuck me some more.'

 

As Squall turned the other way, Seifer was given a view of that supple ass hugged in tight leather. He nearly groaned, but settled for shifting once more in an attempt to lessen any friction that might encourage a noticeable erection. There was nothing subtle about the curves of Squall's ass, especially when encased in those black leather pants. Whatever the hips said, those firm and supple cheeks bellowed even louder.

 

For the first time, Seifer ignored the jealousy within himself. Caraway was certainly a man of self-control to not be reaching down and jerking off to the sight Squall presented. Though, the blond doubted those hazel brown eyes weren't soaking in the sight.

 

What kept Seifer grounded were the subtle glances Squall sent his way. Gray-blue irises flashed with want. Those attention grabbing eyes subtly looked him up and down in a way that sent heated shivers through him, telling him that the younger man appreciated his muscular body as much as he enjoyed the brunet's lithe one.

 

Squall had been right. If he looked for it and paid attention to an area of the Commander higher than the waistline, he saw why the pretty boy never seemed to notice the watchful eyes of so many others. The brunet was too busy looking at him and dealing with matters at hand to care about anything else.

 

Besides that, Seifer felt sound in his conclusion that Caraway was an older man of strictly controlled behavior and far too indignant about his daughter to do more than look.

 

“Cid and Edea will be arriving with the children this Friday, Mr. Caraway. If you are so set on expressing your disappointment on Cid's behalf, perhaps you'd like to have another discussion when he's here to speak for himself.” His choice of title was due to the General's lack of addressing him as Commander.

 

“I gave you your start boy, don't you dare give me lip,” Caraway said sternly, all the while keeping a calm demeanor.

 

The General sat rigidly in place before the Headmaster's desk. The incessant pacing was throwing him off, but managed to ignore it after a while, just as he ignored the nonnegotiable presence of Ultimecia's knight.

 

“And here I was under the impression that I might have earned my position,” Squall snapped sarcastically.

 

Green eyes widened, the blond's attention converting from what he could do to Squall to what was eating away at the Commander. The brunet didn't make remarks like that unless he was the antagonist. Something seemed amiss.

 

“Squall, you're a young boy. Too young for this office if your actions are anything to go by,” the General said smoothly, his resolve for remaining calm and proving himself the better dignitary only hardened by the small outburst.

 

Sighing, Squall rubbed his forehead in frustration. This conversation was getting to him more than it should have been. Perhaps it was because he was seriously considering handing in his resignation. “I'm not a politician,” he said quietly, determined to keep every single movement and syllable in check. It was difficult when he could feel Seifer's eyes boring into him, causing inappropriate thoughts to creep up on him.

 

Moving behind his desk, Squall stood before his chair but didn't sit down. He reached out and picked up the sealed envelope that Caraway had tossed atop all other files. Regardless of having Seifer in the room, something that was never done, he tore the package open.

 

Edging forward a little, the General commented, “Is it common practice to deal with such matters with a civilian in the room?”

 

Seifer leaned his head back and gave off rich laughter. Never cutting it short, he took his sweet time expressing his amusement.

 

“Gregory,” the blond called with rude familiarity. “I promise you I'm hardly a civilian,” His tone was dangerously assuring, his mind recalling images of the last person he'd taken care of as Squall's bodyguard. He only wished he could have tagged a note onto Epson's corpse, as warning to all others who dared to touch what wasn't theirs.

 

The blond didn't push any further. He'd already pushed the bar when Caraway made that comment on Squall being like a son. The over the hill General had once said the same thing to him when he was dating Rinoa, the meaning different but words the same. Naturally, he'd spoken his thoughts on the matter, questioning whether Caraway was against their relationship because they were like brothers.

 

“General Caraway,” Squall spoke evenly, returning the title of office to make amends for Seifer's words. “I'd rather not put off what can be done right now.”

 

Reaching for a pen, the Commander slid the annulling contract from within the envelope onto the desk. Flipping through the pages, his eyes scanned the text even though he knew the words by heart practically. With an elegant flow of the pen, he gave his signature.

 

“You're quite correct,” Caraway bit out tersely. Standing to retrieve the signed document, he added, “You are no politician.”

 

Squall understood exactly what the General meant. Despite recent events and the constant assumption that he could not run a Garden properly, Balamb Garden had the best SeeD for any job. The request for SeeD to scout out unauthorized activity in the D-district prison should have been given to Galbadia on all accounts of location and close relations between the General and Headmaster Martin.

 

Squall knew Caraway was too meticulous and controlling not to use the best at his disposal, which was Balamb Garden. The threat to revoke the request was hardly the threat to Commander Leonhart that the graying General thought it was.

 

“If withdrawing your request was not your intention then allow me to correct my mistake.” Squall held his hand out in a show of his willingness to take back the document and perhaps light it on fire.

 

“You're running this facility into the ground. You're making a mockery of the entire institution. Will it take another sorceress war to convince you of the importance of being a knight?”

 

“I'm sorry, but what exactly would you know about knighthood?” Seifer chimed in with rising anger.

 

“Mr. Almasy,” Caraway bit out through gritted teeth with an emphasis on each syllable. Turning to address the blond, he warned, “If I'm speaking to you, then I will look at you when doing so. Unless you can refrain from interfering, I suggest you take your leave.”

 

Squall's eyes narrowed. The brunet quickly held a hand up to plead for Seifer's restraint, his eyes conveying that he was far from ever being a push over. “General Caraway,” Squall said quietly, drawing the man's attention back to him and almost mocking the man with his impassive features.

 

“If you insist on your boyfriend being present-”

 

“I do,” the brunet interjected firmly, his voice rising a bit to cut Caraway off. “I insist he be here because he this was by all means an informal meeting. As you well know, I do not schedule meetings with clients via their daughters.”

 

“I'm a busy man, boy. I suppose it'd be too hopeful to assume you could possibly understand.”

 

“Fucking prick,” Seifer snapped, shooting up from his seat. He'd throttle the man for daring to undermine the dedication Squall had, the work and effort that it had taken to set post war affairs in order and keep Balamb running smoothly during such times of widespread peace. He'd show the General a whole new meaning of defacement.

 

“Seifer,” Squall hissed.

 

“How expected,” Caraway said, bristling in a condescending air.

 

“You watch your mouth,” Seifer warned, vehemently pointing at the man, wishing he could close the distance and wrap his hands around that ugly neck.

 

“General,” Squall sighed, “I cannot give you anything you want. I cannot help someone who does not see the truth in anything.”

 

“Excuse me?” came the affronted remark, hazel eyes glaring at the audacity being shown. “Is that the truth you orphans think you're raised with? You come here with the presumption that being raised with the consequence of war over your head makes you fit for such a position as Commander. Much as the rest of the world would like to think of you as some hero, the true heroes are the men and women who have dedicated their lives to the betterment of our governments.”

 

“And I suppose it was that philosophy that lead you to elect a president who supported an insane sorceress?” Squall shot back, more than willing to stretch the limits of his daily number of words if it was for a debate with someone who had managed to royally piss him off.

 

The brunet continued, “I suppose it was that philosophy that helped you raise such a politically active daughter, a daughter who ventured outside your household for a single day and realized what a hypocrite her father was. I suppose it was that philosophy of great governing and politics that lead to such a wonderfully free Timber, that is if you ignore the years of oppression those people went through with thanks to the politicians you supported.”

 

As the General seemed at a momentary loss, be it from Squall's sharp tongue and words or from the fact that the brunet was speaking with emotion and at length, the young man kept going.

 

“I do not consider my time spent at the orphanage of any particular relevance to my job as Commander. My basis for qualification lies in my completed training as SeeD and my proven capabilities as Commander during the war.”

 

“It was a temporary post!” Caraway shouted unexpectedly. “To think that a eighteen year old boy could possibly match the level of competence and skill in men and women with ten times the amount of experience is a joke!”

 

“What does this have to do with my banging Squall?” Seifer bellowed incredulously.

 

Squall raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, wanting to walk up to the blond and slap him upside the head.

 

With a look of distain, the older man gladly made the connection. “Your personal perversions are directly interfering with your duty. You are sleeping with the enemy Commander Leonhart, how much further will you drag your name through the mud?”

 

“Who's mixing business with personal affairs exactly Greg?” Seifer questioned, condemning himself to a night without sex by forcing his way into the argument. “You come here to threaten to withdraw your request for SeeD because your daughter got dumped.”

 

Brows furrowed in anger, the General reared on the blond. “You haven't changed a bit since I saw you by your sorceress' side. If you're plotting to take over this Garden, rest assured there are more people like myself who will not let it happen.”

 

“Well fuck Squally-boy, this guy's insane. No wonder he sees everything backwards. Even Martine couldn't deny that Balamb Garden is the most prosperous mercenary facility in existence.”

 

“Seifer, you're not helping.”

 

“No, but I feel a lot better now,” the blond returned with an arrogant smile. Seeing the blotches of redness come to the older man's face, Seifer wondered if Caraway was about to start yelling or have a heart attack. “If you've got anything up your sleeve, I think now's the time to bring it out.”

 

Subtlety was not exactly a word in the ex-knight's vocabulary, which was something Squall knew, but still seemed taken by surprise when these moments came about.

 

“President Niles is currently planning a coup of his own government. His intentions are unclear, erratically inexplicable with rumors of mental instability,” Squall said impassively, throwing his trump card out there for the General to take it at will.

 

“What?” General Caraway asked incredulously, his worst fears spoken by this boy.

 

“I suggest you shift your focus more inward. I believe this is the second president you've nominated that has turned out to be unfit. If you value your own office, then you'll leave here and return to where you belong.”

 

“But how…” Caraway trailed off, the predicament slowly sinking in. He staggered back and took a seat.

 

“General,” Squall began, standing straighter and folding his arms. “I assure you that this information is known only by myself and the single SeeD I sent to gather the information. Mr. Almasy is under strict confidence as per the contract signed as my guard. Should you require assistance with this matter, Balamb Garden is always at your disposal.”

 

In a disbelieving haze, General Caraway tossed the document he had in hand back at Commander Leonhart and stalked from the office.

 

“What just happened?” Seifer asked in confusion, striding up to the smaller man.

 

Shoulders slouching slightly, Squall sighed heavily. In mumbled response, seemingly talked out for the day, he said, “His career is in jeopardy, and that's more important than going against me.”

 

In comforting reassurance, Seifer stepped even closer and stood before the brunet. Arms at his side, he waited to see if Squall needed a hug or punching bag. “You're good at that negotiator shit,” he said. “When you get going like that, it's kind of sexy.”

 

“Should I be thanking you for not hitting anyone or hitting you for interfering?”

 

“You should be kissing me,” Seifer suggested.

 

Scoffing, Squall leaned forward with drooping eyes. His forehead pressed against the blond's shoulder, his tired eyes closing. He wanted more sleep. He wanted greater clarity on why he was fighting so hard to keep his position when he could think of nothing but resigning.

 

Strong arms encircled the brunet's slender frame. “I'm so sick of this. I remember this place being so different.”

 

“A lot has changed,” Squall said in a muffled reply. “I'm the Commander now.”

 

“It's not you, it's all this political bullshit that you have to put up. It's killing you Leonhart, and totally draining our time in bed. Do you know what time we got up?”

 

Groaning, Squall relaxed further into the embrace, the blond holding him up. “I'm tired,” the brunet admitted, a deeper meaning lacing the words.

 

“I know,” Seifer said with a firm squeeze, kissing soft chocolate locks.

 

“Squall!” Selphie cried from the doorway.

 

“Not now Tilmitt,” Seifer spoke firmly.

 

“Laguna totally just kicked General Caraway's ass!” she informed. Though she knew it was bad news, she couldn't hide her glee.

 

TBC…

 

A/N I'm too tired to say much right now… I'm going to sleep now.