Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )

Defining Love

Chapter Five

 

Beyond grateful that it was Friday, Squall stepped off the elevator and walked toward the last stop of the day. Toting a backpack full of schoolwork for a first grader, a laptop case with both files and computer that was threatening to slip from his shoulder, and a sleeping six year old, he carefully keyed in the code for the lock and slid his card through.

 

He sighed in relief when the familiar beep of the door unlocking sounded. While he had enough work to keep him busy even on his day off Saturday, he was actually relieved that Lore didn't have school for the next couple days. He didn't seem able to go more than that before being hounded by the school's assistant principal.

 

Called in for the most ridiculous of reasons, he was seriously considering just hiring a private tutor. He only kept his son going to school for the sake of social interaction, which everyone assured him was vital despite his disposition on it.

 

Only an hour ago, he'd sat there listening to yet another academic evaluation that the school felt was so important. While he was certainly interested in what Lore learned and making sure the boy was doing well, he didn't need to have parent teacher meetings twice a week that ended in a supposedly innocent run in with Mrs. Strous, the assistant principal at Mercy Elementary School. It also seemed completely innocent when the thirty something year old woman flirted with him shamelessly, never mind that she was married to a member of parliament.

 

Younger than most fathers who were able to afford sending their children to the private school, Squall could do without being hit on in the presence of his own son. While he considered complaining, it really just wasn't worth any more of his time than the five minutes it took to hear out her proposal for drinks and give a terse reply about being busy.

 

Closing the door with a gentle click, assured by the slightly longer beep that the door was relocked, he gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness. There were nightlights spaced throughout the apartment, and he'd rather delay a few moments to adjust his sight than wake Lore up by flipping any brighter lights on.

 

It was past Lore's bedtime, but that was often the consequence of not trusting babysitters and bringing the boy with him even when he was just dropping something off in Balamb Garden. Lore loved to ride in ships, so it did work out nicely.

 

Letting the book bag slide from one shoulder to the ground, he repeated the same move with his laptop case, though a bit more careful. He bent to the side awkwardly so it didn't impact too hard.

 

Gently shifting the weight of his son in his arms, he stepped out of the entryway. Intent on putting Lore to bed, he stopped abruptly. Staring for a tense moment at the figure on his couch, it was only a fraction of second later that the cocking click of his M-9 Pistol sounded and the gun was aimed at the intruder.

 

Seifer didn't move. Though alarmed at the extreme reaction, he was more concerned that his rival had acted on a level of instinct that implied the intrusion was both expected and feared. Fear was not something Leonhart ever showed, which was cause for concern. Not his concern, but concern all the same.

 

Eyes narrowed, Squall eased off. Holstering his gun, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He never felt so pathetic as when he felt alarm in the presence of Lore. He could have held the gun steady for hours, but inside he'd have been a mess. It wasn't the same when he was in the field, but with Lore nearby it was so different. He went to great lengths to protect the lives of mercenaries under his care, but he never became frightened when they were in danger. Yet a single mistake of seeing Seifer there and fearing the worst, he practically trembled like a first year cadet facing battle for the first time.

 

Angrily, the brunet glared at the ex-knight, blaming the man for the emotions that coursed through him.

 

“We need to talk,” Seifer stated, remaining in place. Seated leisurely on the couch, he'd been waiting for two hours.

 

Not speaking, Squall continued to walk across the flat. Mentally cursing the brash and arrogant blond, he entered Lore's bedroom. It only took a few minutes to change his son out of the stiff school uniform and into a pair of pajamas. Calming down, he carefully drew the covers over the boy's small form and silently left the dark room.

 

With a tired stride, Squall returned to the living room. Shrugging out of his bomber jacket, the holster for his gun placed high along at the side of his torso, he tossed the worn garment to a nearby chair. Crossing his arms, he stood before the blond knight in silent demand for an explanation.

 

Figuring there could only be one thing that brought Seifer back, Squall was prepared for anything ranging from anger to hysteria. However, given they both had a reason to be upset with one another, he hadn't expected for the blond to tower before him and promptly swing and angry fist.

 

Sadly, Squall did not manage to dodge in time and took the brunt of the hard blow on the left side of his jaw. Lip split, the tang of blood quickly reached his tongue. Ready for the second punch, almost hopeful that it would come so he could return something in equal, he was disappointed when Seifer did nothing but glare down at him.

 

Straightening up, Squall returned the glare, refusing to back down.

 

“Give me one good reason for doing what you did,” Seifer said, his voice taunting in dare.

 

“…” Squall didn't respond, knowing it was a no win situation. If he dared to supply an answer, Seifer would lash out. If he remained silent, Seifer would either lash out all the same or continue to goad him.

 

Jaw clenching, Seifer was suddenly enraged by that cool expression that seemed entirely unaffected by everything. With a left hook that was expectedly blocked, he swung a swift punch with his other fist to the brunet's gut. The hard impact would have sent a lesser man collapsing to the ground, heaving any contents of the stomach up.

 

Grunting as the wind was knocked from him, Squall quickly retaliated. Not surprised that both his punches were blocked, he didn't hold back as he gave a feinting knee to the stomach before ducking and sweeping the larger man off his feet.

 

In no mood to play when the noise they'd already made had likely woken Lore up, Squall drew his gun once more. While Seifer had time to roll over and begin standing, the end of his weapon was already pointed at the man's head. “Don't fuck with me Almasy,” he hissed. “You wanna start something, then do it elsewhere.”

 

“Daddy,” came the quiet call from behind.

 

Mortified at the scene Lore must have stumbled upon, Squall quickly lowered his gun, holstering it without second thought to the blond he'd been keeping at bay. Turning around, he attempted a reassuring smile. Sudden relief filled him as he watched the small boy stumble out from the hall, blearily rubbing at sleepy eyes that hadn't seen a thing.

 

Seifer angrily stalked into the kitchen as his first thoughts of seeing the little runt enter the room was that the lighting wasn't good enough to get a decent look. He wasn't there to visit the child. He was there to have it out with Leonhart for daring to keep something like this from him.

 

Grateful that Seifer wasn't going to start something again, Squall turned his complete attention to his son. Licking his lip, he felt the sting of the cut, but felt confident it wouldn't be very noticeable, especially in the dim glow of the nearby nightlight. “Did we wake you up?” he questioned softly, approaching the boy. From behind, the kitchen light was turned on, illuminating the living room slightly.

 

“I heard a noise, like something fell,” Lore explained, casting a searching gaze around the room.

 

“Our guest got a little tripped up,” Squall answered, finding it was difficult to lie unnecessarily. A distortion of the truth was usually fine, but generally he felt guilty about lying to Lore. “Go back to bed,” he urged gently.

 

As a small frown overtook the boy's features, a protest threatening to be spoken, Lore gazed towards the kitchen with interest. “Can I have a drink?” he requested, obviously intent on joining his father to retrieve the drink.

 

“I'll bring it to you in bed. What would you like?” Squall returned, almost smiling at the valiant attempt made. He was a bit disturbed by Lore's seeming curiosity in Seifer, considering the boy usually shied away from strangers.

 

A thoughtful look of concentration came to Lore's face. After a long moment, he smiled. “I don't know, but I'll know if I look.”

 

Squall did laugh at this, quite amused at the boy's mischievous intellect. “Is that how it works?” he muttered in doubtful question. “If I make you hot chocolate will you go back to bed and stay there?”

 

Bright blue-green eyes were torn. It wasn't often a late night glass of water was traded in for a really chocolaty cup of hot cocoa. Generally only done when he was sick or had done something good, he debated the pros and cons. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” he requested, upping the bargain. Whenever possible, he always made the request for sleeping in the big bed with the comforting scents of his father around.

 

“You're already six, do you really want to keep sleeping in my bed?” Squall questioned. He had every intention of agreeing to the request, not wanting to chance Seifer doing something in front of his son, but Lore would have suspected something if he'd been a complete push over about it. The boy was very perceptive, which wasn't always a good thing.

 

Nodding enthusiastically, Lore's decision was already made.

 

“Okay,” Squall conceded, making a mental note to check with Dr. Kadowaki on whether Lore should have already outgrown the constant want to sleep with him.

 

“Can it have extra chocolate?” came the excited request, eyes wide in a pleading manner.

 

Fearing the boy would never get to sleep with all the sugar, Squall simply said, “I'll see if there's enough left.”

 

“Cool,” Lore exclaimed before rushing off.

 

“No jumping on the bed,” Squall called out at the sound of his son laughing and the unmistakable flopping of a body landing on the mattress. He could only wish to have such endless energy, asleep one moment and jumping on the bed the next.

 

Staring toward the dim hallway, Squall eventually turned around with due a sense of dread. As he made his way to the kitchen, déjà vu set in. Not seated at the table like last time, Seifer leaned against the island counter, arms crossed and green eyes watching him from the moment he came into view. Feeling as though he were walking around naked, Squall tried not to squirm under the intense gaze.

 

Standing in place for a moment, Squall gave Seifer the opportunity to speak first. However, when the blond simply stared at him, he moved forward.

 

“I don't have all night,” Seifer stated impatiently, arm shooting out to block the brunet's progress.

 

Scowling, Squall looked up at the ex-knight. “What do you want me to say?” he questioned evenly.

 

“What you should have the last time I was here,” the blond answered.

 

Sighing, Squall pointed out, “I can talk and boil water at the same time.”

 

Rolling his eyes, having heard every word passed between the dark haired duo, Seifer lowered his arm. “Full sentences Leonhart. I want the facts and at least five good reasons why you didn't say a fucking thing.”

 

“I imagine you already know everything,” Squall shot back. “As for why I didn't say anything, I couldn't count on you not feeling some sense of responsibility, despite your track record.”

 

“Sense of responsibility?” Seifer scoffed in disbelief. “What responsibility?”

 

“To be his father,” Squall answered simply. The idea of Seifer becoming apart of Lore's life felt threatening. It was pathetic and petty to feel that way, but he was actually more afraid of some relationship forming between the former knight and his son than he was of burdening the blond with responsibility.

 

A biting retort fell dead on Seifer's tongue as he suddenly considered Leonhart's words. “I hate kids,” he muttered.

 

“You said that last time too.” Moving from the stove to the sink, Squall filled the kettle with water.

 

“Is that why you were acting weird and asking me shit about my dreams? Some noble decision to let me live my life without feeling guilty that I have a kid?”

 

“…” Though wanting to clarify that it was hardly some attempt at being noble, the rest of it was fairly accurate, so Squall didn't say anything. In the end, his actions were far more self-serving than anyone else would know.

 

Jaw clenching as he watched his rival's emotionless expression, Seifer said, “Look, Boy Wonder, the last person who tried to interfere in my life wound up dead. You don't know shit about me.”

 

“Duly noted,” the brunet muttered darkly under his breath. Kettle placed on the stovetop once more, he had nothing to keep him busy.

 

Silence followed for a long couple of minutes. Finally, Seifer gave into his growing urges and commented, “So, you were knocked up.” A smile kept his face from remaining serious. As choking laughter began to escape, he rushed to add on, “What was it like?”

 

Throwing the immature bastard a cold glare, Squall refused to comment.

 

Laughing until he was sure frostbite would set in, Seifer wiped fake tears from his eyes. “I always said you looked like a girl. So tell me, have you always been disguising yourself as a guy or did Ultimecia really just turn you into a chick?”

 

Speaking through gritted teeth, Squall shot back in shaking fury, “I'm more of a man than you could ever be.”

 

“Says the boy who became pregnant,” Seifer mocked.

 

“What do you want here Seifer?” Squall hissed out in question. He wouldn't let the blond bastard take his son away.

 

“To marry you and complete your little family,” the blond answered sarcastically.

 

“He doesn't know about you,” Squall stated.

 

“Who?”

 

Grudgingly, Squall forced himself to clarify, “Your son.” It hurt to say it, to admit that while he'd raised the boy and been as good a father as he could, Seifer was still just as much the child's father as he was. It wasn't fair.

 

“You say that with such conviction,” the ex-knight replied. “Don't get your panties in a twist. He's not my son and I have no intention of trying to be his dad. Men as sexy as myself don't have kids, it's against the code.”

 

Visible relief overcame Squall's features, his eyes softening and lips lessening their frown. Oddly, he felt rather guilty. Against his better judgment, he said, “If you wanted to meet him or anything, it'd be fine.”

 

Studying Leonhart's solemn expression and grey-blue eyes that held both uncertainty and an odd look of sincerity, Seifer answered seriously, “I'm not looking to become his big brother or start any lasting relationships. But, if the fancy strikes, I might take you up on the offer.”

 

Nodding his understanding, Squall turned away and set about making Lore's drink.

 

“Make me one too,” Seifer said, his tone more demanding than requesting.

 

Brows furrowed in confusion, Squall regarded the knight with disbelief.

 

“I've been waiting for your sorry ass to get back and now I'm thirsty.”

 

Eyes widening in sudden remembrance, Squall bit out, “How did you get in?”

 

Scoffing, Seifer gave a noncommittal shrug. “You might want to consider getting a better security system and replace that guard down there with someone who isn't susceptible to my charms.”

 

Scowling, Squall glared at the tall blond. “If there's a next time, I won't hesitate to shoot,” he stated evenly, the icy gleam in his eyes informing the ex-knight that he was entirely serious.

 

Giving a mock shiver, Seifer commented, “That's cold Leonhart, real cold.”

 

Turning away, scowl still in place, Squall angrily yanked a cupboard open. Not high enough for him to struggle, the shelf with all the mugs required that he raise up on the balls of his feet. With more force than necessary, he set Lore's mug down with a thud. Before he reached up once more, he cast an uncertain look over his shoulder. “Do you seriously want it or is this just some other manner of making fun of me?”

 

“A little of both,” Seifer said with a smirk. Standing straight, he moved further away to the other side of the large kitchen and took a seat at the table.

 

Sighing, Squall tried to release some of his anger. No one pissed him off like Seifer. He felt like chucking the second mug at the ex-knight's head, but he kept his cool and simply settled for making Seifer's cup while the water was still scalding.

 

**

Seated at an inconspicuous table in a low-key café, Seifer glared at the untouched drink placed before him. His hair was immaculately combed back and clothes wrinkle free despite wearing a casual t-shirt and loose fit denim pants. Believing himself to be Hyne's gift to woman, he couldn't let his appearance go just because he felt like brooding.

 

At the sound of the empty seat across from him scraping gently on the floor, he glanced up, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the sight of the cowboy. Kinneas had called him out in the first place, directing him to a place they could speak. However, he'd been waiting for ten minutes. His temper was running on a short fuse to begin with, which meant he was particularly unhappy at the moment.

 

Sitting down, Irvine gave a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I got a little held up.”

 

Seifer's eyes never left their mark, staring narrowly into violet-blue ones. “Speak your peace, Kinneas. I don't have time for games or bullshit.” Daring to touch his drink for the first time, he picked the plain white mug up by the handle and sipped the dark liquid. He set it down with a grimace, his mood suddenly plunging further into darkness.

 

“Did they bring you the wrong order?” Irvine questioned with passive interest. Raising his hand smoothly, he flagged a nearby waitress.

 

“No,” Seifer answered, eyes now fixed on his drink. The chocolate liquid was now lukewarm after his initial refusal to try it.

 

Shaking his head, Irvine concluded that he probably didn't want to know what the former knight was thinking. Ordering lemon tea from a sparkly-eyed young woman, the gunman gave a false smile of appreciation before turning his attention back to the unfriendly ex-knight.

 

“What do you want?” Seifer pressed, hating how the world he'd returned to was full of fools incapable of getting straight to the point.

 

Clearing a scratchy throat, certain he was coming down with something, Irvine explained, “I want to know what happened with Squall.”

 

Staring for a long moment, Seifer eventually mustered the will to play a little bit. “I don't kiss and tell.”

 

“I see,” Irvine muttered in dismay, realizing it wasn't going to be easy. Dragging something out of the loquacious knight was as difficult as it was to drag something out of the tightlipped commander. One man offered all the wrong words, while the other offered nothing.

 

His order arriving faster than expected, Irvine accepted the steaming drink with yet another forced smile. He didn't even have the urge to flirt with the young woman, finding nothing attractive about her C-cup breasts and small waist. Selphie's waist was smaller, and he quite liked his little lady's A-cup, but perky breasts.

 

Seifer rolled his eyes at the sight of the sharp shooting Galbadian eyeing the waitress. “Bring me a coffee, black,” he muttered in request, sliding his unwanted cup of hot chocolate toward the edge of the table.

 

“Right away,” came the reply.

 

Seifer was in a foul mood because he was experiencing some sort of brain malfunction that left him constantly thinking about everything he'd rather forget. When asked what he'd wanted to drink, he'd ordered hot cocoa. It was an utter disgrace to his reputation. The night before had been a one time deal, just him seizing the opportunity to annoy Squally-boy. Men like him drank beer, scotch, gin, whiskey, and every other alcoholic beverage except for martinis. Water was reserved for hangovers and workouts, juice for when he was sick, and milk for whenever the fancy struck. He even drank coffee on occasion, usually when he was in a café. He was supposed to have ordered coffee, but he'd ordered hot chocolate before realizing it.

 

The worst part of it was that he'd ordered it because he'd been thinking about the night before. He'd been analyzing the alarming feeling of calm that had come over him in Leonhart's kitchen the night before. He didn't know why he'd ordered it or why it mattered, but it did matter for some reason.

 

“Did you hit him?” Irvine asked, hoping the question served to capture the blond's attention once more.

 

“A couple times,” Seifer admitted with a grin, finding that being an ass took his mind off of things.

 

A grim determination for civility was all that kept Irvine from leaping across the table and waling on the ex-knight. The slight cut in Squall's bottom lip was hardly noticeable, but given the timing of Seifer's visit, he'd been certain the two were connected.

 

Easily picking up on the gunman's hostility, Seifer goaded, “I have half a mind to hit you too, but I've settled for the man who gave the orders.”

 

“Short of keeping the fact that you have a son secret, don't touch Squall for any reason,” Irvine drawled slowly, the threat conveyed in the sharpness of his eyes. “I don't fight fair,” he reminded.

 

Brow quirking at the threat, Seifer debated giving an insulting retort, but decided against it. There was a good chance that the cowboy had a gun pointed at him beneath the table, and he wasn't much for playing games anyway. “Did you call me out here just to bark at me like a guard dog?”

 

Shaking his head, Irvine picked his cup of tea up and sipped carefully. “I wanted to know what you plan on doing now.”

 

Growing rather solemn, Seifer regarded the gunman with a frown. He would also like to know the answer to that question. There seemed very little reason for him to stay, and yet there was an odd feeling growing inside of him that he couldn't quite place. As it was, he planned to spend another couple days in Esthar. While he would have liked to assure himself it was simply to see the sights, he couldn't deny that it was to give himself a little more time to think about matters.

 

“You obviously don't want to be involved with Squall or Lore, so why are you hesitating?”

 

Defensive about his current indecision, Seifer glared. “What exactly are you so afraid of?” he questioned in return. “You think my presence will interfere with your moonlighting in Leonhart's bed?”

 

Teeth gnashing at the accusation, Irvine fought through his annoyance, knowing the blond wanted to throw his attention elsewhere. “As Squall's best friend, I don't plan on sitting idly by while you put him through hell. It doesn't take a mind reader to know you aren't the type of man looking for a family.”

 

“What an astute observation. I'm impressed, cowboy,” Seifer said, his words drawled in a mocking twang of the gunman's Galbadian accent.

 

“If you're holding some grudge about the war, don't use this as some opportunity to get back at Squall,” Irvine warned.

 

Rolling his eyes, Seifer sat back and crossed him arms. Pulling out the big guns, he stated, “Maybe I'd just like to lay Leonhart one more time. He was a surprisingly good fuck before, I didn't even need Ultimecia to force me.”

 

“Fucking bastard!” Irvine cried, finally letting his anger get the best of him. Unsettling the small square table as he stood, the gunman closed the distance between them. Gripping the front of the ex-knight's forest green t-shirt, fist ready to fly, he stared.

 

Seifer smirked, waiting for the blow to come. When the cowboy backed off, he chuckled. “You've got more control than most,” he commented with mirth.

 

Irvine ran a hand through his unbound hair, taking calming breaths to settle himself down. Seifer had been lying, an obvious lie that he'd nearly believed. “You're not worthy of being Lore's father. You don't even have the right to look at Squall,” he hissed, abruptly stalking away.

 

Seifer watched the gunman's departure with mixed feelings. Angrily brooding over his continued uncertainty about leaving well enough alone, he disregarded Kinneas' words entirely. Could he just return to Fisherman's Horizon and forget about it all?

 

“Sir, your coffee,” the waitress said, setting the drink down with a dull chink.

 

Nodding numbly, Seifer acknowledged that he'd been served his order. At every point in his life, he'd known what he wanted and had gone after it until it was his. He didn't want a kid or to be on civil terms with Leonhart. He wanted to return to Fisherman's Horizon and take a particularly long trip out to sea. Yet, he found himself delaying his stay in Esthar, unable to go after what he wanted.

 

Such circumstances begged the question, `Did he really want to leave anymore?'

TBC…