Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Defining Love

Chapter Two

 

It was a bright morning, though it was still too early for all the heavy fog to dissipate completely. A gentle breeze flitted through the kitchen window, the two panes cracked open on their hinges, pushed further as the breeze became a bit stronger.

 

The fast clicking of keys was barely audible over the growing hustle of cars on the street outside and the sound of birds that were suspected to have nested in the gutter just outside the window.

 

Intermittent with typing was the silent pause of reading the laptop screen and the sipping of hot bitter liquid. Squall Leonhart sat casually with one leg folded beneath him on a padded chair at the kitchen table. Damp hair fresh from his shower hung in disarray just past his ears.

 

Reaching for his mug once more, he didn't notice it was empty until he attempted to take a sip. Unfurling from his position, he stood up to pour more coffee from the freshly made pot. He'd arrived earlier that morning, but found sleep eluded him and had woken up only a couple hours later despite his haggard state.

 

Having been on assignment for the past week, he was more than content to be home once more. He didn't like being away for so long, but it had been a special case that required his assistance.

 

Wearing an oversized navy blue sweatshirt and a pair of black flannel pants, he seemed more ready to go to bed than start his day. Still, he couldn't resist the minor comfort of dressing down when away from prying eyes and with the prospect of not being on call for the rest of the week.

 

Socked feet silently stepped across the white tiled floor to bring the brunet once more before his morning's work. Not being on call didn't mean he could just forget about writing up all the reports he'd pushed off until the last minute. He couldn't stand office work, but when he headed an operation for any garden, the fun of fieldwork came with a price later on.

 

When the sound of a car horn filtered up, he stood once more to latch the window shut. There was only so much noise he could take, and when the horns started beeping, that meant the business day had begun and it would only get worse.

 

Gazing down six stories at the street below, he shifted his focus to the park just across from the apartment complex. From his position, he could clearly see the main courtyard with the lavish fountain that he considered an utter waste of money. A victorious lion modeled after Griever posed proudly. The fountain's plaque held his name on it, below which was a brief summary about his time as a commander and role in the war. He'd nearly killed Laguna for having the fountain made, forever causing him embarrassment each time he walked by it.

 

“You're back!” cried a child's voice from across the flat of the apartment.

 

Snapping from his reverie, Squall turned abruptly at the greeting. Through the open doorway of the kitchen, he saw big blue-green eyes alight with joy. The depth of excitement that his mere presence invoked was heart warming. Having never experienced any sort of parental bond himself or observed such a relationship, he still marveled at the intense emotion he felt for his son. His love for the boy was almost ludicrous in the sense that it was instantaneous upon first sight and so strong.

 

Quickly rushing across the large apartment, weaving about the obstructing couch and coffee table, Lore Leonhart ran headlong towards his father. Long pajama bottoms threatened to trip up pattering feet. The child's sole concern aside from closing the distance was not a matter of keeping balance, but clutching tightly to a stuffed toy lion.

 

Bending down, Squall intercepted the six-year-old who hadn't thought to slow down until making contact. He almost laughed when he nearly toppled backwards, silently observing that the boy was growing and becoming stronger every day.

 

“Morning,” Squall said as he straightened up and took the clinging boy with him, the ratty stuffed animal squashed between them. Shifting an arm to better support the light weight, he used his free hand to affectionately tousle dark raven hair.

 

Tightening his single armed grip around the lithe fighter's neck, Lore gave his customary hug. “You were gonna wake me up,” he mumbled against the soft fabric of his father's shirt. “Your hair's cold,” he complained further while trying to keep his head resting against a shoulder but also keep away from damp locks.

 

“I tried to wake you, but you just kept snoring so loudly,” Squall returned.

 

Pulling back to gaze into bright grey-blue eyes, eyes that he swore had magic in them, the boy defended, “I don't snore.”

 

With a small smile, Squall questioned, “Then was it Griever?” Angling his head down to peer at the toy between them, he asked, “Do you snore Griever, or was that our cub?”

 

“Griever doesn't snore also.” Leaning back with the confidence that the man holding him wouldn't let him fall, he pulled the toy lion out. “He's still sleeping,” the boy said. Holding the animal up to the brunet's ear, he grinned. “See? He doesn't snore.”

 

“I guess not,” Squall admitted, grateful that Lore had forgotten about not being woken up. He'd checked in on the sleeping boy, but at three in the morning, he didn't dare disturb the youth.

 

“Guess what!” the boy cried in remembrance.

 

“What?” Squall spoke with slight amusement. Usually Lore was already filling him in on what he'd missed, speaking a mile a minute to make certain he was informed of everything.

 

Smiling proudly, Lore informed, “I beat Grandpa in chess! He said I musta been cheating, but I didn't. And then, and then, are you listening?”

 

Smiling, Squall nodded, taking a seat in the chair and placing the boy in his lap.

 

Certain he had his father's undivided attention once more, Lore continued, “And then, Grandpa fell down the stairs again, and Ward catched him before he really fell, but his foot got hurt, but then Grandpa wouldn't let anyone fix it, and then he really fell, and then all the soldiers got scared, but Kiros came and did magic to make it better.”

 

Squall marveled at his son's ability to speak without pause, nearly making the effort in one breath. Still, between the two of them, he enjoyed listening and Lore loved telling stories, so it worked out quite nicely.

 

“Is Grandpa all better?” Squall prompted in a show that he'd caught every word.

 

“Yeah, but I think Kiros got hurt too, `cause he said Grandpa made him have a heart attack.”

 

“I'm sure he did,” Squall commented, understanding first hand just how high Laguna could cause his blood pressure to soar at times. Knowing there were many more stories to listen to after being gone for so long, Squall was content to sit and listen with the familiar weight of his son in his lap. However, when Lore gave a stifled yawn, he realized the boy was still quite tired. “Did you wait up for me?” he questioned with a frown, immediately feeling sorry that he hadn't returned sooner.

 

Nodding with a lazy blink, the initial excitement waning and leaving the boy in a tired state, he admitted, “Grandpa let me work on my puzzle `til eleven, but I stayed up real late in my room.”

 

“What's this I hear?” called a deep voice from just outside the kitchen doorway. Long raven hair in tangles from sleep, Laguna Loire stalked closer to his quiet son and gabbing grandson. “Boys who stay up past their bedtime wind up losing all their teeth.” Yawning, Laguna corrected, “I mean losing all their hair… or one of the two.” Suddenly forgetting what he was referring to, he waved the matter off and made a beeline for the coffee.

 

“Old men lose their teeth,” Lore corrected.

 

“That's right,” Squall supported at the expectant look from his son.

 

The Estharian President grumbled to himself, sleepily searching the cupboards for a mug, unable to get it right on the first try despite having done it countless times before. Upon finally succeeding in his task, he fixed himself a cup of coffee loaded with flavored creamer and sugar.

 

Shuffling towards the table, he managed to place a greeting kiss atop Squall's head without falling over or spilling his hot drink, though to be safe he held the mug out awkwardly.

 

Slumping in defeat, Lore made himself comfortable in his father's lap, falling silent and simply enjoying the contact with a spoiled superiority in knowing that only he could cling to his father like that.

 

“Tired cub?” Squall asked, already knowing the answer.

 

With a nod, Lore wriggled about, seeking to rest comfortably enough to fall back asleep. There was less room on his favorite perch with each passing year, but it was his number one choice in seating regardless.

 

Considering it was six o'clock and Lore was a stubborn boy who had likely made it to one in the morning before crashing, Squall made certain to keep still so that the child was lulled back to sleep.

 

Closing his laptop, Squall regarded Laguna. “Thanks for staying with him,” he said.

 

“You know it's not a bother,” the older man assured with a grin. “Besides, it gives me a legitimate excuse to shirk my presidential duties.”

 

Shaking his head, Squall expressed his opinion on the matter with small frown. For Laguna to play hooky at every given opportunity lead him to wonder if the man were truly his father.

 

“How'd the mission go?” Laguna inquired. Taking a slurping sip of the steaming liquid, he sighed in contentment and slouched in his chair. “Good coffee,” he murmured, relishing having the first cup in a week that tasted right. At times he felt more like Squall's son than father. He sulked whenever he bit into a piece of toast that wasn't made the way Squall made it and complained to no end about how the coffee in the office was never as good as the coffee at his son's place.

 

Raking a hand through slowly drying hair, Squall gave an indifferent shrug, careful not to move too much.

 

Quirking a brow, Laguna dismissed it, not up for dragging words from the stoic man's mouth. “Well you're back anyway,” he commented to fill the silence, learning long ago to just read Squall's mood and carry on as if he weren't the only one talking.

 

As Lore mumbled something of a complaint, Squall settled his free arm around the boy. In what he knew to be the final stage of the child's restless squirming about, his cub made a lethargic move to hug him. It wasn't so much a hug as it was changing to the most wanted position, draped along his chest as if he were a human pillow. Still sitting upright, Squall needed to use both arms to keep the boy in place. It wasn't bothersome since in less than ten minutes Lore would be sound asleep.

 

“There were strange rumors,” Squall said. Being out in the middle of the desert, he didn't read the latest newspapers, but rumors still reached him. “About Seifer.”

 

Hazel green eyes widened. Suddenly sparking to life, the president sat straight. “Hyne, I completely forgot,” he said before shaking his head and silently telling himself to just get to the important stuff. “Irvine picked him up at the Sorceress Memorial last week. He wouldn't let Dr. Odine near him, but Dr. Kadowaki said he's perfectly healthy.”

 

Grey-blue eyes fell to rest at no particular point on the table. Brows drawing together in deep thought, he questioned, “What happened to him?” He'd known of the theories revolving around the whereabouts of his long time rival, but after seven years and five previous conclusions that had resulted in nothing, he hadn't expected anything to change.

 

“I wouldn't know even if someone explained it to me,” the president admitted. “I guess he's aged the same as if he were here, but we don't know where he really was. Anyway, he's out of the hospital now.”

 

“Are you going to give any statements?” Squall queried, wondering at what the ramifications would be for just letting Ultimecia's knight go free.

 

“Like what?” Laguna questioned with innocent obliviousness.

 

Shaking his head, Squall dismissed it, silently planning to speak with Kiros about it later.

 

“Daddy, I wanna play in the fountain today,” came the sleepy request, after which Lore promptly turned his head to rest his other cheek down on his father's shoulder.

 

Frowning as he fell into deeper thought, Squall's mind churned the recent news over. “Is he….” he began to ask, but trailed off. He didn't need Laguna to know he was concerned about anything at the moment.

 

“Irvine says he doesn't know. They didn't want to tell him. They're leaving that up to you,” Laguna informed, only able to know what was on Squall's mind because it had been on his own since first learning of the knight's return.

 

Nodding in understanding, Squall left the matter alone, needing time to think. After seven years, he'd imagined every scenario, yet he was still completely unprepared. In truth, he was a little frightened of making a wrong move and the consequences it might bring.

 

**

 

“Isn't that the shirt he wore to bed?” Squall questioned from the sidelines as he watched Lore sprint ahead to what the child called `Griever's fountain'. There were holes in the stone ground all around the actual fountain, which spurt water up like a geyser for kids to play in. It was just a fancy sprinkler system that Lore never tired of playing in.

 

“He loves that shirt,” Laguna reminded. “Besides, he'll be soaked in a couple minutes anyway.”

 

Shaking his head, Squall conceded to letting his son wear the worn and faded t-shirt with a picture of a lion on the front. Lore had been obsessed with Griever and lions ever since he was born, starting with the shiny pendant Squall wore around his neck. There was no discouraging the fascination when it did no harm. Actually, it was quite amusing to watch the boy crawl around and pretend to be a lion, making odd sounding growls that never failed to put a smile on his face.

 

“Daddy watch!” Lore called out, daring to place a bare foot right over the top of a hole, the opening only a couple inches in diameter.

 

It was only a little bit after twelve, which was when the fountain's system turned on each day. There were small holes and big ones, creating a rather aesthetically pleasing sight when each opening had water shooting from it. The bigger ones weren't actually holes, but rather just the outer rim shot a curtain of water. It was safer considering small feet were constantly running around.

 

In no time at all, water came spurting up and Lore jumped back at the last second, laughing in his own world of excitement at nearly braving to keep his foot in place. His laughter only increased when the water that shot above his head came falling down to soon soak him through, his swimming trunks and shirt hanging limply.

 

“Can I climb up?” the boy requested while pointing wildly at the life size sculpture of a king lion.

 

“No,” Squall shot down. “It's not for climbing.”

 

“Please, I promise I won't get hurt,” Lore pleaded with his father.

 

“We've been over this,” Squall stated with a stern look.

 

Hand falling dejectedly, Lore intoned a disappointed, “Aww.”

 

“You know that as soon as he's old enough to come here on his own, the first thing he'll do is climb on it,” Laguna said, his tone implying that perhaps letting Lore have his fun now would prevent such a future.

 

“And he'll probably be arrested for it,” Squall pointed out, thinking that such an event would only serve to prove what was acceptable and what wasn't.

 

Running over to join the two idling men, Lore bound straight for his father and pressed his sopping form against the man. Laughing hysterically at soaking Squall, who hadn't been wearing a swimsuit, he broke away quickly. “You're it!” he announced before running away.

 

Squall gave a brief glance down at his clothes. Boot cut jeans and the lower half of a plain white t-shirt were now damp. He'd seen the attack coming, but could hardly refuse to play along. Wasting no more time, he sat down to quickly remove his heavy boots.

 

Ignoring Laguna's chuckling, Squall left his place and rushed after Lore. “You can't out run me,” he announced to let the child know he was following.

 

“Yes I can!” Lore cried from his place on the other side of the fountain.

 

Before Squall knew it, he was soaked completely. He dashed around the center fountain. Between the sprays of white gushing water, he could see his son darting on the other side. The water was a bit cold, but the sun was rising and shining down brightly with the promise of a hot day.

 

“You can't get me!” Lore called out, stopping to search for his father on the other side, making sure he wasn't circling around just to run into the clever man.

 

It was only a matter of time before Squall wound up with a hysterically laughing Lore in his arms.

 

Sitting on a nearby bench, just out of reach of the water, Laguna watched the procession with a forlorn smile. He wished he could have had what Squall and Lore had. He wished he could be twenty-seven again and stay with Raine, and have Squall be six years old without a care in the world. Instead, he was fifty-two with a son that seemed incapable of letting anyone into his heart except for Lore.

 

TBC…