Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

Defining Love

Chapter Seven

 

“Dad?” Lore called out, excitement evident in his voice despite his best attempt to sound as even toned as possible.

 

Having run out of room on his father's lap long ago, Lore was no longer the rather scrawny child he'd started out as. Not a day over sixteen and he stood five feet and nine inches with the promise of a couple more inches to go. Already taller than his father and slightly broader in frame, he was prone to sulking whenever they sparred and he lost despite his greatest efforts.

 

“He's not back yet,” Laguna answered from within the kitchen.

 

Hurrying to take his shoes off and hang his coat in the closet, Lore rushed to meet his grandfather. “Where is he?” he questioned earnestly, blue-green eyes staring avidly at the older man. It was never weird to consider Esthar's President as his grandpa unless he was around his friends.

 

Straightening up as he closed the oven, Laguna smiled brightly. “He had a lunch date with Cale.”

 

Pushing sixty-two and still the President of Esthar, Laguna was a man who aged primely. Though his hair was shades grayer, he was neither bald nor completely without color. The crows feet around his eyes only served to give his appearance character and his laugh lines only served to make him appear that much more friendly.

 

“Date!?” Lore cried incredulously.

 

“Relax,” Laguna soothed. “It's an expression. He should be back soon. I think Cale has to go back to work after.” Removing his oven mitts, he tucked loose strands of graying black hair behind his ears.

 

“What a shame that he can't join us tonight,” Lore commented in a dead tone of mock enthusiasm. He didn't make any effort to hide his dislike for the smooth talking charmer that had spent the past year warming up to his father. It was annoying whenever his father was out alone with the man, where he couldn't monitor them. Certainly his father could fend off any unwanted advances, but he envisioned terrible scenarios involving drugs or being lured into a trap that even the Balamb lion couldn't escape. Cale Bernhein was a thorn in his side.

 

Laughing, Laguna reminded, “If your dad likes him, give the guy a break. I know I like him.”

 

“That's because he used to be your secretary and didn't make fun of you,” Lore stated deadpan. “He's just not right for Dad. Between Uncle Irvine and Zell, why does he need more friends?”

 

Shaking his head, the older man pointed out, “If it were up to you, Squall would stay single forever.”

 

“Single!?” Lore's tone of incredulity bordered on outrage. “They're not dating!” the young man declared.

 

“Well,” Laguna began with an air of uncertainty, immediately stopping his teasing when his grandson seemed on the verge of running out the door to throttle his former secretary. “I'm teasing. If anyone ever came along, you'd disapprove no matter how amazing they were.”

 

“Damn straight,” the young man affirmed, entirely serious.

 

Sighing, Laguna opted to change the subject, never sure what to make of Lore's unwavering father complex. “How was school? I bet your glad your birthday's on a Friday this year.”

 

“It was boring,” Lore stated in complaint. “I should have played hooky.” Sniffing the air curiously, he questioned, “What are you making?” While he was quite certain it could only be one thing, the fact that it smelled nothing like a cake was suspicious.

 

“Your birthday cake!” Laguna announced. “This one will definitely come out better than last year's.”

 

“You say that every year, and they all end up being thrown away,” the dark haired youth stated evenly.

 

Hands on his hips, the Estharian president frowned. “This year is different,” he affirmed confidently.

 

Loosening the tie on his school uniform, Lore excused, “I'm gonna get changed. Don't set anything on fire, we haven't replaced the extinguisher after last time.” Walking off he grumbled to himself about how his dad shouldn't have gone out on a date and left Grandpa alone in the kitchen.

 

Frowning at the boy's departure, Laguna was brought back from his thoughts about always being picked on for his occasional mishaps when the timer went off. Jumping in surprise, he quickly went about putting the mitts on.

 

In his room, Lore hastily changed into a pair of boot cut jeans and black t-shirt. Out of his stiff blazer and uniform, he felt little relief. After turning down all offers of hanging out to celebrate his birthday in order to rush home, he was slightly perturbed to arrive and find his father absent.

 

Balling his tie up, he chucked it towards his closet, not caring to put it away properly when his mind was so occupied. It was unlike his father to hang out with anyone or even speak to anyone other than himself. Of all the things he might have taken pride in with Squall Leonhart as his parent, he took the greatest pride in being the only person in the world that Shiva's lover talked to. Sometimes he'd bring up the most ridiculous of topics just to bask in how his father would indulge him. There was of course his grandfather and aunts and uncles that registered on his father's radar, but not like he did.

 

Naturally, to have some total stranger cozying up was out of the question. He recalled clearly the day he first realized the threat Cale Bernhein posed. Back when the man had still been his grandfather's secretary, every time he'd visited the office with his father, the man would always greet them with a smile. Of all the nerve, that charming grin was obviously directed at his father each time. On the one occasion that the supposed ice prince actually returned the greeting, he'd made certain to always accompany the unsuspecting man every time after.

 

Not looking a day over twenty, it was a dangerous world for someone like his father. There were countless women who would love to attach themselves for the fame, and any number of perverted men who thought the former commander was more effeminately pretty than handsome. Laguna's constant reminder that his father was very inexperienced when it came to dating and relationships didn't help to ease his mind when he considered that someone was attempting to make subtle advances.

 

Even worse was the recent run in at some local gym. A religious swimmer, his father hadn't even skipped a day when the private pool in their complex was being renovated. Opting for the nearest gym to do laps, it was discovered that the young Mr. Bernhein used to be a professional swimmer and now coached some college team.

 

There was nothing he could do when he was in school almost every day, losing precious hours that were being eaten up by some undeserving white haired weirdo with nothing but perverted intentions.

 

Pacing back and forth along the pale blue rug of his room, Lore eventually settled on actually doing something about it and not walking around with distressing images in his mind.

 

Striding from his room and into the kitchen, the dark haired youth asked, “Are you sure he's coming back soon?”

 

Fanning an overcooked vanilla cake, Laguna cringed in apology at once more botching up his grandson's birthday cake. “He should be. We agreed that we'd all get started once you came home.” Returning his attention to the now crispy desert, he wondered if an extra layer of icing would diminish any burnt taste.

 

“You told him I decided to skip practice today, right?” Lore questioned, recalling that they'd agreed to eat dinner later after his soccer practice. However, he'd changed his plans when he remembered the coach would be gone for the next few days and he wouldn't be grilled for ducking out. It might have been a mistake to trust his grandfather to relay the message.

 

Ceasing his fanning, Laguna regarded Lore with an apologetic smile. “I forgot,” he admitted.

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd picked up from his father, Lore shook his head. “Where'd Dad go?”

 

Rubbing his temple, Laguna attempted to remember. “Ah!” he exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “He wrote it down so I wouldn't forget.” Searching his pockets, he eventually came up with a fold piece of torn paper. “Lexis Café.”

 

Frowning, Lore commented, “That place is expensive.” Extravagant places were not his father's trademark, especially for something as trivial as a platonic meeting for lunch.

 

Shrugging, the President pointed out, “Maybe he's not paying. Not that it'd matter, I mean Squall's got money… at least he won't accept anything from me…”

 

While his grandfather continued to ramble about receiving so many free things as president that Squall should share in, Lore turned and stalked away. First it was called a date and then Cale was supposedly paying. He wouldn't waste any more time.

 

Near the door, Lore sat on the small ledge while tying his bootlaces. Grim determination marred otherwise handsomely boyish features.

 

“You're not going out to get him, are you?” Laguna questioned, standing in the kitchen's entryway.

 

“I am,” Lore announced. Standing up, he wrenched the closet door open and grabbed a jacket at random. Shrugging into the tanned leather garment, he wasted no time for explanations. With a hurried slam of the door, he was striding down the hallway towards the elevator.

 

With a heavy sigh, Laguna shook his head. He was no expert on father-son relationships, but he had an inkling that his own interactions with Squall were far more normal than Lore's. Then again, perhaps it was a twisted result of the father being the mother. If Squall were a woman, then the overprotective nature wasn't all that extreme.

 

**

 

Face nearly pressed against the glass window of Lexis Café, Lore scoured the premise for his father. It wasn't difficult to spot the pair in the small coffee house. Filled with trepidation, blue-green eyes stared at the two forms sitting unnecessarily side by side at a small table not far from the window. His father seemed positively enthralled with whatever book was in front of them, so occupied in fact that Cale' ridiculously close proximity didn't seem to register.

 

Tearing back from the window, intent on storming into the famous coffee shop, it was just his bad luck to crash into perhaps the only person walking by on the sidewalk. Though a usually pretty busy part of the city, the crowd wouldn't gather for another hour or so, when everyone from school had time to go home and change, and when everyone else got off work.

 

“Sorry,” Lore apologized, grateful the person hadn't been some little old lady who would have hit the pavement. Turning to face the person, he was mildly surprised as he redirected his focus higher up and stared into strikingly bright green eyes.

 

Quirking a brow, Seifer Almasy turned his attention to the window. Eyes quickly scanning each face in view, he almost barked with laughter at the sheer irony of it all. “Well fuck kid, if you're gonna run into a person without looking where your going, at least be looking at something better than Leonhart.” Obviously a guess on his part, he couldn't imagine anyone else worth gawking at, even if his words spoke otherwise.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lore bit out angrily, forgetting that the man he spoke to was a complete stranger and that the guy's six-foot-something frame seemed capable of crushing him.

 

Laughing, Seifer crossed his arms and gave the kid a bemused stare. Esthar was full of interesting people. He'd never encountered such a ballsy attitude in anyone since meeting Leonhart. The pipsqueak knocked into him, muttered a poor apology, gawked at him rudely, and then had the audacity to become angry with him. At least when the even smaller pipsqueak named Squall had done so, there was a lethal weapon in hand.

 

“Should I spell it out for you?” the ex-knight questioned with underlying mirth, rather amused at the sudden encounter.

 

Glaring fiercely, Lore reminded himself that if he were to start anything, his father would probably see. Still, he couldn't help but feel boiling anger at the implication that his father wasn't worth his undivided attention. He didn't usually have a short temper, but this stranger seemed to rub him to the wrong way.

 

Seifer searched the boy's eyes with slight curiosity, swearing that cold glare was a bit too familiar for comfort. “Who is he to you?”

 

“Lore,” Squall called, rushing from the entrance to the café. Heart in his throat, the former commander glanced from Seifer to Lore with a mix of confusion and fear.

 

“Dad,” Lore spoke, focus shifting to his father. Approaching the pale man, he became concerned when stormy blue eyes were fixed solely on the tall blond man he'd run into.

 

“Seifer,” Squall spoke lowly. “What are you doing?”

 

Taking a moment to absorb the situation, Seifer eventually grinned brightly in dawning understanding. It was too ironic to be true. Beyond the coincidence of the kid being his son, something he wasn't prepared to actually give much thought to at the moment, Squally-boy looked pale as a sheet. It was quite obvious the kid didn't know him, which meant the world's number one girly-man had some explaining to do. It was quite fun to watch Leonhart squirm, perhaps wondering if he'd already given something away. Secretly, he was squirming inside as well, not at all prepared for this sudden meeting. Somehow, it felt like fate.

 

For a long moment, jade-green eyes soaked in the sight of his former rival. It was somewhat surprising, while at the same time not. Leonhart looked exactly the same as he remembered. Time was good to some people and unforgiving to others. He had nothing to complain about, though he still held quite a sore spot over losing seven years of his life.

 

The door opened once more with a rushed swing as an imposingly tall man with silver white hair stepped out. “Squall,” Cale Bernhein called. Adjusting his own long black trench coat, he offered the worn leather garment draped over the crook of his arm. “Is everything alright?” he questioned, stepping closer as he eyed a man he recognized as the former knight Almasy.

 

“It's fine,” Squall mumbled, absently taking his jacket and simply holding it.

 

There was a long moment of clashing uncertainty, when no one spoke. Squall and Seifer shared in a rather intense gaze, the world seeming to halt just for them.

 

“Happy Birthday Lore,” Cale said with a disarming smile, purposely bringing an end to the stand off.

 

Perceptive from day one, Cale knew quite well why Squall's son didn't warm up to him. While he'd shown no outward sign to prove Lore's obvious suspicions, he also wasn't denying anything that would later be deemed true. Still, warming the Balamb lion's heart was a task that required his full attention. He'd worry about winning Lore over when he managed to find some solid footing with Squall. At the moment, his prospects of becoming something more than a friendly acquaintance seemed bleak.

 

Hard pressed to glare in return to the polite greeting, Lore instead chose to address the stranger that his father apparently knew. “Seifer Almasy?” he questioned, looking back to the blond man. Not a common name, he'd be a fool not connect the dots at that point.

 

“At your service,” Seifer lilted, always happy to oblige a special introduction when he could be certain he wouldn't wind up on the end of a carelessly thrown punch. Easy enough to dodge or block, stirring up trouble in Esthar was not a good idea.

 

“Seifer,” Squall hissed. “What…” the brunet trailed off, failing to grasp the proper words for any of the questions he had running through his head. Biting his lip, he cast a furtive glance to his son. It wasn't fair that Seifer turn up like this. It had been agreed long ago that on Lore's sixteenth birthday all questions would receive answers, including the young man's parentage. While many details had become common sense to Lore as the boy grew and became exposed to the outside world, gleaning nearly everything from casual conversations and friends at school, Seifer was one puzzle piece that wasn't in place. After so many years, with only a matter of hours before he was going to sit down and hash it out in a timely manner the blond bastard to showed up like a damn Forbidden drawn to the living.

 

“What am I doing here?” Seifer supplied smoothly. “I was just walking when your son practically tackled me into the middle of the street.” He wondered how believable it would be to say the kid knew him as the absentee father and attacked him in a fit of rage.

 

“He didn't,” Squall shot back. While he hadn't seen anything prior to glancing up and finding Lore staring with a look of aggression at Seifer, he knew his son better than anyone.

 

On the verge of defending himself, Lore simply gave a smirk of victory at his father's wholehearted belief in him. “I accidentally bumped into him,” the young man answered far more honestly.

 

Scratching the back of his head in thought, Seifer's smirk widened. “That he did. My memory has always been a bit faulty, but you would know that better than most, wouldn't you Squall?” As expected the informal use of Leonhart's name caught the eye of both the son and thus far nameless mystery man.

 

“What is your business in Esthar?” Cale spoke up with a slight hint of anger, the emotion apparently in abundance.

 

Beyond accustomed to voices filled with rage, Seifer was hardly fazed by the defensive stance taken by the unknown man who looked like Fujin's brother. Blatantly studying the stranger, he glanced up and down the man's primly tailored suit, likely designer from the polished black shoes to the tie and vest. He knew the man's heritage before the man's name, someone who originated from the Island Closest to Hell. It was the white hair and crimson eyes, so similar to Fujin's that it was unmistakable. “I'm not here to terrorize the locals if that's what you're concerned about. Who are you, by the way?”

 

“Cale Bernhein,” the tall man beside Squall introduced smoothly, stepping forward and extending his free hand in offering. Though slightly miffed at having his lunch cut short, he'd spent far more time with the striking brunet than he'd originally hoped for.

 

Seifer gave a slight frown as Bernhein stepped closer. The guy was actually taller than him and he couldn't figure out why it irked him as much as it did. “What are you six three?” he asked bluntly.

 

“Six five,” Cale returned, merely smiling at the tall blond, a man of formidable stature but not so much as his own.

 

Grunting in acknowledgment, unable to blame a measly extra inch on the shoes, Seifer let the matter go while his ego was only slightly bruised. He settled for shaking the man's hand with excessive force.

 

“Dad,” Lore spoke quietly, wondering how easy it would be to make a quick and unnoticed exit. “I heard you were on a date with Cale,” he murmured quietly in obvious accusation.

 

Grey-blue eyes blinked in confusion, unable to swing from one extreme to the next so quickly. “Lore, we should go home first,” Squall suggested, hoping the walk back would give him time to think.

 

“Dad,” Lore pressed, sensing the distress in his father and fearing that it had indeed been a moment of interrupted intimacy going on behind his back. Moving closer, he reached out to take the forgotten jacket from the loose grasp of his father's hands. “Here,” he said while holding the garment up so that it could be slipped into.

 

“I can do-” Squall began to say defiantly, but Lore only shook his bomber jacket insistently. Sighing in disapproval, he was unable to refuse.

 

Lingering behind his father, Lore hugged the man after settling the jacket in place. Arms winding around narrow shoulders, he playfully leaned his weight against the older man and rested his chin near the soft fur collar. “You forgot to say something,” he said, eyes darting towards Cale with a tacit message that there was a line not to be crossed.

 

Thinking for a moment, Squall eventually started in his son's hold. Patting the boy's arms, he spoke, “Happy Birthday.”

 

Frowning, Seifer glanced from one face to the other. While he didn't enjoy his lack of understanding, it would be amusing to figure things out.

 

Not releasing his hold until crimson eyes had a good look, Lore eventually stepped back, but stuck close to his father's side.

 

Still smiling under the belief that the best things were worth the effort, even if he was feeling rather disheartened as of late, Cale decided to take his leave. Though he felt concerned over Ultimecia's knight being there, wanting to ask if Squall would be all right, he knew the quiet man hated unnecessary concern. So he said nothing, hopefully expressing a level of understanding that might be noticed. In a gesture that had never been done before, but something he needed to do lest he be written off completely, Cale brashly stooped and gave a fleetingly chaste kiss to Squall's pale cheek. “I have a class at two. I'll call you later,” he said, straightening up and staring down into wide stormy blue eyes.

 

Nodding numbly, honestly at a loss, Squall simply accepted the parting as though commonplace. He wasn't sure what to make of the touched smile that came to Cale's face or the odd sensation he received when crimson eyes seemed to gaze deeper into him than most people could.

 

It was delayed reaction when Squall's cheeks heated and he shot a curious stare at the retreating man's back. For a long moment, he simply watched Cale walk away, the subtle shift of the dark coat covering a broad back.

 

Laughing outright, Seifer managed to gain understanding. “Squally-boy's got a boyfriend,” he teased. “I always knew you were a princess at heart.”

 

“Fuck off!” Lore shouted angrily, directing much of his aggression gained from watching the procession of the stolen kiss and not being able to express it towards the person who'd caused it.

 

“Lore,” Squall said in light reprimand.

 

“Did he learn such naughty language from me?” the blond questioned with amusement.

 

“Seifer, please, just stop,” Squall requested in all seriousness. “This really isn't the time for your games.”

 

“Really?” the former knight remarked with mock curiosity. “Because it seems like you've been playing quite the game all these years. It's not fair that we can't all join in.”

 

“Let's go,” Lore more commanded than suggested.

 

Torn between wanting to go home in order to explain everything properly and confronting Seifer, Squall stood and stared at the ex-knight for several moments.

 

Grumbling to himself about a loss of fun, Seifer conceded that he should let up on the teasing when Leonhart started looking at him with the eyes of a lost puppy. “I'll be in Esthar for a while. Don't get any romantic dreams when I say that I'll call you.”

 

Continuing on the way he'd been headed, Seifer left the mess he'd started. The further away he walked the more he wondered about that kid and whether or not he should be feeling a specific emotion given the gravity of the situation. He wanted to smile at the final realization that that ballsy attitude was quite like himself, but suddenly he couldn't find anything amusing in what had transpired. It was ironic and proof of what a small world they lived in, but his amusement on the matter was gone.

 

Squall couldn't help but watch as Seifer walked away. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he fought the urge to chase after the man and settle things sooner rather than later. However, he had Lore with him and there was another pressing matter he needed to deal with.

 

“That's the guy Aunt Quistis is always talking about, right? The guy you trained with at Garden? He was Ultimecia's knight?” Lore queried for the sake of absolute confirmation.

 

“Yeah, that's him,” Squall replied quietly, feeling anxious with each passing second. “Come on birthday boy, before Laguna burns our apartment down.”

 

“The cake's already ruined,” Lore informed. “The kitchen remains intact to see another year.”

 

With a forced smile, Squall nodded and walked along side his son towards home. Amongst his jumbled thoughts about Seifer and Cale, he couldn't stop glancing at Lore with an odd sense of lost years. The young man was already sixteen, no longer a little boy. It wouldn't be much longer before his job was over. Being a father had scared him at first, but after caring for the child for such a long time, he wasn't sure what he'd do when Lore was gone. As it was, his life was pretty much defined by being Lore's father, so where was he left when that ended?

 

“You're thinking too much again,” Lore chastised, knowingly reading the distant expression on the older man's face.

 

“…” Squall didn't reply, feeling rather foolish for his thoughts when there were more important issues at hand.

 

Brows furrowing in displeasure, Lore studied his father's profile. Picturing in his head the image of Cale kissing the youthful looking man beside him, he couldn't help but wonder if that was merely the public expression of what was really between them. “Are you dating Cale?”

 

Eyes widening, Squall looked at Lore in surprise. “No,” he answered simply. Thinking back on the awkward parting, he wasn't sure what to make of it. While it was a first between them, perhaps he just didn't know Cale well enough to assume the man wasn't the friendly sort. If Laguna had done it, it wouldn't have required second thought. Cale had worked as the president's secretary, so there was some chance they might have worked well together due to similar personalities. Yet, he'd known the man for over a year and kisses on the cheek were not normal.

 

“Do you like him?” Lore questioned, sternly staring at his father for any sign of hesitation.

 

“Yes,” Squall answered once more. He wouldn't be spending his free time with a person he didn't like. They had a lot in common and Cale didn't seem to mind it when he hardly spoke, so there wasn't really anything to dislike. They swam laps together, sometimes racing each other. More frequently they saw each other outside of the swimming pool, but neither of them had very much free time so it was just a casual friendship. With Irvine and Selphie now in Trabia, he didn't really have anyone to call a friend in Esthar.

 

“Like how?” the young man followed up immediately, glancing up at the stoplights while they waited at the corner.

 

Frowning, Squall looked at his son. What was with the twenty questions? “Is something wrong?”

 

“Yes,” Lore stated, not quite in mock of his father's short answers, but almost.

 

“I'm not a mind reader Lore, but I do know that you don't like Cale.” Somehow he felt as though there was a bigger issue that should be taking precedence, but assuming Seifer hadn't said anything then it was reasonable that Lore would hardly give the former knight much thought.

 

Jaw clenching, Lore struggled to hold his tongue on the matter. However, after realizing that he'd eventually be speaking up the next time that guy came around, he decided to tell his father upfront what he thought. “I don't like him because he's a phony, always smiling like that when all he really wants is to sleep with you.”

 

Hand coming to his face, Squall hid his embarrassed blush. He couldn't believe Lore had just said that.

 

“Well it's true,” Lore defended. “You might not see it, but I do. So does Grandpa.”

 

Eyes peeking out, Squall started walking once more when the traffic pattern changed. “You've been talking with your grandfather about this?” he questioned, feeling mortified to be having such a discussion with his son. He'd about killed himself when attempting the coming of age talk with his son, greatly relieved when it became apparent the boy had already learned most everything from friends.

 

“Grandpa's always hinting about it, talking about how you can't stay single forever and that Cale's a really nice guy.” Lore figured he might as well go into a detailed explanation of what his concern was all about. “It's not you I don't trust. It's other people. From the very first day I met him, I knew he only had one thing on his mind.”

 

“Lore,” Squall spoke up, unable to hear anymore. He had no idea where any of this was coming from. “I think you've forgotten I'm the parent here.” As much as he wanted to assure the boy that his relationship with Cale was nothing but platonic, he had a feeling it would only play into the scenario his son had fabricated.

 

“But it's different, you're not a normal parent, so I worry.”

 

“Not normal?” Squall questioned, hoping it didn't have anything to do with the manipulated circumstances of Lore's birth, though he imagined that it did affect the boy more than he'd know.

 

It was Lore's turn to be embarrassed as he admitted, “Most dads don't look the way you do. It's never been weird for me, but it's definitely noticeable.”

 

“Because I don't wear suits and have an office job?” Squall wondered aloud, not sure how his casual wardrobe and continued activities as a mercenary made him abnormal as a parent. Surely there were other fathers who worked construction or as police officers that didn't fit the typical image.

 

“No, Dad,” Lore said with slight exasperation, realizing all over again what traits his grandfather and father shared. On certain topics, his father could be so oblivious. “You look like a college school student. In a year, I'll probably look older than you. And, more than that,” he hesitated, doubting he was capable of saying it when he was loath to even think it.

 

Slightly wary that he'd done something wrong all these years, Squall pressed, “More than that, what?”

 

Swallowing thickly, the young man muttered, “You attract a lot of attention. Attention from… other men.”

 

Thinking for a moment, Squall considered his son's words. He'd never cared about that sort of thing, but if it had been causing problems for Lore without his knowledge he'd feel terrible. “Does that bother you?”

 

“No,” Lore assured quickly, but then corrected, “Yes, kind of. It's just that I worry a lot. I guess what I mean is that it's fine if you like someone, just a certain kind of someone. I think it'd be better if you saw a woman.”

 

With a sigh, Squall shook his head. “Despite what you may think, I have no interest in anyone right now, female or male.” He was hardly about to defend his sexuality to his own son, so he'd leave it at stating that there was no one who currently caught his eye. Perhaps he should have dated someone, a more feminine influence in the household. Then again, the uncaring disposition about sexuality was a part of the Estharian culture, something he'd known when choosing to live there while raising Lore. Even if Lore said a woman was better, there was still the underlying feeling that his dating another man was acceptable as well.

 

Not making his point, Lore continued, “That may be so, but someone else might be interested in you. I'm just saying that it's best to not become involved with someone who could hurt you like Cale.”

 

“Hurt me?” Squall muttered, almost finding the notion amusing. If someone could defeat him in battle, then his getting hurt in the process was only deserved.

 

Running a hand down his face and sighing, Lore rephrased, “Force you to do things.”

 

Steps faltering, Squall felt the back of his neck heat, feeling embarrassed not only by what his son was implying but also for his slowness on the topic. Generally, he prided himself on being sharp and perceptive, it was what he was trained for. “Oh,” he intoned, intent on retrieving an ice pack to cool his cheeks the second they returned. “I know I've always stressed that no one is undefeatable, even myself, but Cale isn't trained as a fighter.”

 

Squall half expected to wake up any moment, finding that it was too surreal to be reassuring his son that he was not a likely candidate for being raped. While he knew Lore was terribly protective of him, it had always been in an adorable sort of way. How had waking up early to make sure he ate a proper breakfast turned into confronting him about dating women because men were likely to assault him?

 

“I know that,” Lore stated, “But there are ways that these things happen. There are drugs and you might not even remember something ever happening.”

 

“Hyne, that's my line,” Squall remarked, wondering how common it was for the children to act as the parents.

 

“I'm serious,” Lore stated, reaching out and hugging his father. “I worry.”

 

Defeated in a matter he couldn't even resolve to understand completely, Squall gently tousled dark brown hair in comfort. “Give me some credit. I don't befriend liars and the only perverted lecher I put up with is your Uncle Irvine.” Cale was currently a social science professor, not at all adept at using that large framed body skillfully outside of the water. He honestly didn't see where his son's vendetta against the man came from.

 

TBC…