Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

Defining Love

Chapter Eleven

 

On a joint mission together, Squall met up with Irvine on the Monday following his rather eventful weekend. With his world shaken from its comfortable niche, he was every bit desperate for even a little counseling.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Irvine drawled lazily, hiding his avid interest in the matter. “Seifer Almasy is in Esthar, Lore knows about the guy, Lore went to see the guy, then you went to see the guy, and yesterday you three got together for a happy little spar?”

 

Nodding, Squall confirmed the reiterated points that had taken him a good ten minutes to get out even when using fewer words. While he hadn't conveyed the finer details involving Lore not exactly getting along with Seifer, he wasn't up for any lengthy storytelling when he had something else to put on the table for discussion.

 

Whistling, Irvine tipped his hat so to ride lower. Reclining in his seat against the hull of the swaying ship, currently en route to Centra, the gunman gave his commanding officer a stern gaze, darkly shadowed by the brim of his hat. Determining that there was more the tightlipped man hadn't mentioned, he questioned, “Is there something else? Selphie said you sounded a little weird when you called Saturday.”

 

While Squall wondered how he might have sounded weird, he procrastinated actually answering Irvine. At length, he found no way around it if he wanted advice. “There was something I wanted to ask your opinion on,” he muttered.

 

“Oh?” Irvine intoned, leaning forward with rapt attention now that Squall seemed committed enough to speak in complete sentences. “There are generally only two things I'm good for. Either you're having women trouble or gun trouble. For the sake of my own assurance on this mission, I'll assume you don't need my help in figuring which end the bullet comes out of.”

 

With a halfhearted glare, Squall expressed his feelings on having anyone determine what he was getting at before managing to get there in his own good time. Having had all weekend to consider how he should approach Irvine about it, Squall had decided vagueness was best. “When someone kisses you on the cheek, what does it imply?”

 

Violet-blue eyes sparkled. Squall having trouble with the ladies was the greatest news he'd heard in years. The former commander couldn't stay single forever, but after sixteen years of flying solo, it seemed as though that might end up being the case.

 

Unable to suppress the need to know every detail, right down to the time and weather on the day it happened, Irvine feigned only mild interest for the sake of not scaring the brunet off. Clearing his throat and taking the extra moment to calm himself, he commented, “It can mean a hundred different things. It all depends on the circumstances.”

 

Frowning, Squall was hardly enthused about divulging details. Reluctantly, he offered, “Say it was a kiss goodbye.”

 

Pretending to mull the fact over, Irvine shook his head. “It could still mean a whole lot of things.”

 

Shifting in his seat across from the gunman, Squall seemed to squirm with discomfort.

 

Feeling as though the brunet were two seconds away from dismissing it all together, Irvine intervened. “I kiss you on the cheek all the time,” he said, casting a quick glance towards the bow of their enclosed ship to make certain the cabin door was closed. It would hardly be appropriate to talk about how he kissed his commanding officer, at least when others could hear.

 

Having considered that, Squall had already rejected the idea that it had been a quick peck from a friend. Cale was his friend, but he doubted friendship was the reasoning behind the action. “It wasn't like that,” he admitted.

 

Assessing that their privacy was ensured, Irvine continued, “Okay, let me ask you this, were there witnesses?” Witnesses often meant it was done for show, usually a marking of territory.

 

Squall nodded.

 

“Who?” Irvine followed up, a little too quickly for his own good.

 

Biting his lip, Squall forced himself to keep going. It was a lot easier to imagine himself having the conversation with Irvine than actually having it. “Lore and Seifer,” he replied quietly.

 

Now Irvine had to know. “Who kissed you?” he asked. To think there was someone brave enough out there to befriend Squall was astonishing, and to have kissed the former commander was nearly unbelievable. Yet, Irvine could do nothing but give the person props for it. Not only did this mystery man have balls, but the guy had also managed to snatch Squall's attention by it.

 

Sighing, Squall stated, “I feel like I'm making this out to be something it's not.”

 

“Well, I've never known you to take anything to heart unless it's significant.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Squall explained, “Lore was upset after it, which got me thinking.”

 

“I see,” Irvine murmured. None too subtly, he reiterated, “Who kissed you?”

 

“Cale,” Squall mumbled, almost too quiet to be heard.

 

Running the name through his mental directory, Irvine eventually landed on a familiar marker. Chuckling, the gunman sat back once more. “Laguna's secretary? Now this is surprising.” If Selphie caught wind of any of this, he had a feeling they'd be moving back to Esthar in a heartbeat.

 

“He's a professor at Orion University now,” Squall corrected.

 

A broad grin threatened to betray Irvine's excitement. “And you would know?” he queried lightly.

 

“We hang out,” Squall explained grudgingly, half wondering if he was being made a fool of at the moment.

 

“Just hang out?” Irvine pressed with an undertone of lewdness.

 

“Yes,” Squall hissed, sending a warning glare to his friend. “We're friends.” When it seemed like the gunman was going to speak again, he added, “Just friends.”

 

“But he kissed you,” Irvine pointed out.

 

“On the cheek,” Squall reminded.

 

“Are you trying to get me to refute what you've already concluded?” Irvine quipped with a smirk. “You're defending that it was done in friendship while at the same time bringing it up because you think it's something else entirely.”

 

Squall scowled, hating how right Irvine was. “Whatever,” he mumbled, sitting back and crossing his arms.

 

“Do you want to know what I think?” Irvine baited, confident the socially stunted brunet was speaking with him as a last resort.

 

It was several moments before the stubborn lion raised grey-blue eyes to signal that the gunman should speak his peace.

 

“I think you haven't been seriously interested in someone since Rinoa. I think sixteen years is long enough to devote to your son. I think that it's only slightly weird that we're talking about another guy as your love interest. And I think this college professor is probably head over heals for you already.”

 

Wide eyed, Squall stared at the auburn haired sharpshooter. He wasn't sure which was more disturbing-- Lore saying that Cale wanted to sleep with him or Irvine saying that Cale was in love with him.

 

Pointing an index finger at the reclusive lion, Irvine directed, “You shouldn't be hung up over whether this guy likes you. What you should be most concerned with is asking yourself if you like him back.”

 

“…” Squall stared, drawing a blank.

 

“Just think about it,” Irvine encouraged. “While I've personally always been partial to the ladies, any well constructed body deserves ogling from time to time. Now don't get me wrong here, but I think it'd be easier to imagine you hanging off the arm of someone like that professor.” In truth, Irvine didn't honestly feel that Squall was better suited for men. He simply wanted to encourage any possible relationship. Heterosexual or homosexual, it would still involve Squall getting laid on a regular basis.

 

Scowling, Squall resented the implication that he fit the role of a woman in any relationship. His mood worsened when he reminded himself just how ridiculous it was to argue such a comment when he was currently the only male in existent to have given birth.

 

“Just think about your true feelings,” Irvine asserted once more. “Is he good looking? Are you attracted to him? Can you stand to be around him for more than an hour at a time?”

 

“I'm not actually going to answer you,” Squall muttered darkly when violet-blue eyes seemed to gaze at him expectantly.

 

Scoffing, the gunman shrugged. “I see, but you'll kiss and tell.”

 

“Irvine,” Squall groaned in exasperation, already having enough to think about without sharing it with someone else.

 

 

---

 

It was Friday evening and Squall was fighting the urge to stand up and pace back and forth. Casually dressed in a pair of jeans and slate grey sweater-shirt, he was alone in his apartment with nothing to distract his brooding mind. He'd spent his entire scouting mission in Centra being teased relentlessly by Irvine. Mentally vowing to never seek the gunman's advice again, he doubted that he'd ever hear the end of it. If the scouting mission hadn't been completed a day ahead of schedule, he'd have gone insane. The constant innuendos had made him afraid to make a single sound the entire time. Irvine could make anything seem dirty.

 

As adept as Squall was at separating his personal life from work, Irvine had been there each night to kindly remind him what he'd have to deal with the second he returned to Esthar.

 

Having returned the day before, he'd spent the entire Thursday doing nothing but brooding in lost thought. He'd addressed every sore issue that he'd ignored over the years.

 

Lore was basically his life and had been since the war ended. He was currently still in denial about what to do when Lore left him, which would likely be in a couple more years. Unlike Irvine and Selphie, he didn't have any other children. In fact, he couldn't imagine having any other children, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he had indeed devoted his life to raising a son he hadn't originally wanted. The circumstances were stacked up in an order that left Squall alone, or at least lonely, without Lore.

 

SeeD had become more of a necessity than way of life for him. He'd spent his childhood revering the mercenaries of every garden and had felt great honor in becoming a cadet. Now, he did it solely for the money. He doubted that he'd ever feel the thrill of battle again, not like when he fought with Seifer. It wasn't likely that he'd be able to immerse himself in work as SeeD, which left him nowhere once again.

 

It was pathetic on many levels, but Squall was determined to do something about it. A male lover was hardly any sane solution to his predicament. He'd only ever been with women and hadn't been very successful even with that. Rinoa was the last person he'd been seriously involved with and he'd never even slept with her. Having known about his pregnancy, he'd felt an obligation to not tie her to himself until she fully understood how screwed up things would become. There had been a handful of women over the years, but each and every one of them had seen him only as Commander Leonhart. It also didn't help that he'd always felt a certain roadblock when it came to the point of introducing anyone to Lore.

 

Picking a long term partner wasn't exactly his forte in any respect. Basically raised to become a fighter, his ideals were slightly different than the average civilian. Strength and skill earned his respect and also attracted him. While he'd never been drawn to anyone so far as lusting after them, seeing a sculpted body was arousing if only faintly. To know the labor behind it, to determine that the person was hardworking and someone who could understand a way of life that was similar to his own, that's what captured his interest.

 

While society revered the beautiful and thin, there was a difference from the sort of beauty he found in others. If he saw a stick figure body, he hardly spared it a single glance. However, if he saw muscle definition or any physical skill, then his interest was caught.

 

Honestly, while his preference was neither here not there regarding gender, he didn't need any more grief about being gay. He'd dealt with enough after stepping down as Balamb Garden's Commander.

 

The advice Squall had received, which had been jumbled between perverted comments about cocked guns, was to seriously consider whether or not he could possibly be attracted to Cale. It was difficult just thinking about it. Cale was more like a friend than anything else.

 

Physically, the man was handsome, though he'd never found himself gazing with want and an open mouth. Younger than himself by two years, the college professor seemed more knowledgeable about worldly affairs than anyone else, which instigated some interesting conversations that he enjoyed listening to. Significantly taller than himself, he was dwarfed by the other man whenever they walked side by side. Tall and broad in frame, there seemed a dormant strength in the man that might have rivaled Seifer's if Cale had ever received the proper training. Though not a fighter, swimming competitively for nearly twenty years had left behind a well-toned figure.

 

Growing increasingly frustrated, Squall decided to take a trip to see Cale in person. He was sick of brooding. With Lore at another soccer match, it was the perfect opportunity to clear matters up. He wouldn't sit around trying to figure out if he should start a relationship with a person if he wasn't even certain they liked him.

 

---

 

After a fifteen-minute drive across the first district of the city, Squall waited patiently on the professor's couch. With an order of coffee on the way, he suddenly felt as though he could understand Zell's incessant need to fidget and squirm.

 

Managing to carry two mugs of steaming coffee in one hand, Cale soon joined the silent brunet. “Here you go,” he said, carefully taking Squall's drink from his odd grip and offering it with his free hand. His appearance was slightly disheveled with a missing tie and first couple buttons on his white dress shirt undone. His shirt was not nearly as neatly tucked into his black dress pants as when he'd arrived home, but grading midterms and reviewing thesis papers often left him in such a state. There was also the small factor of spending an entire week wondering what would become of Squall and him.

 

As one bedroom flat, Cale's apartment was suited for himself and his lifetime supply of reading material. Between grading papers, compiling lectures, and making ends meet with the occasional article for the reputed Timber Maniacs, his living space reflected his habitual engrossment in paperwork and book pages. The walls were not adorned with pictures, but bookshelves. The long desk nearest a set of windows, currently with the blinds drawn shut, was the most cluttered area and obviously where he spent most of his time. There was a small kitchen nook and partially enclosed area where his bedroom was placed. Hardly used to entertaining guests, the couch and coffee table were the only other objects in the sparsely furnished setting.

 

Taking a tentative sip of his coffee, Squall almost blushed when realizing it was black. A quick glance over at the light brown liquid in the professor's cup informed him that Cale knew how he took his coffee. The younger man hadn't even asked, as if knowing were the most natural thing in the world.

 

“I owe you an explanation,” Cale began, knowing exactly what his stoic companion wanted to address. “It would be dishonest to say I didn't mean anything by it. While I cannot deny that I have feelings for you, I had hoped to spend more time with you casually.”

 

“…” Squall was at a loss.

 

Running a hand through short strands of silver-white hair, Cale sighed. He hadn't chosen the right words. “That sounded wrong,” he said. Taking a moment to better prepare himself to make a statement that best expressed his feelings, he tried again, “What I mean is, I never expected anything to happen between us. I knew from the beginning that the most I could hope for was your friendship.”

 

“From the beginning?” Squall questioned, wondering just how long Cale had liked him in such a way.

 

Drink forgotten on the small square table before the couch, Cale braced himself before continuing. Head dropping to rest in his hands, he waved goodbye to his pride and admitted, “I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you. I think I'd been working for the President a whole month before first seeing you, and that was it for me.”

 

Squall felt as though his whole face must have turned red. The urge to dig a hole in the floor arose quickly. Wanting to hide his face at the moment, he instead busied himself with setting his mug down on the nearby coffee table. Conveniently, his unmannered hair fell to cover his eyes. He didn't know much about love at first sight, but that wasn't what really mattered. For Cale to be saying these things to him, he didn't know what to do. Perhaps he should have taken an extra day to consider Irvine's words. Brooding wasn't all that bad once he got used to it, he shouldn't have given up on it so soon.

 

“Squall,” Cale called again, this time successfully managing to draw the brunet from lost reverie. It was hardly his intention to put Squall on the spot like this. He probably should have thought more about his actions on the previous Friday, but there had just been something about the ex-knight's presence and the troublesome situation that had compelled him to do it.

 

Glancing up, Squall brought his attention back to the white haired man seated next to him. He felt a sort of constrictiveness around his chest, as though short of breathe. Rarely presented with such situations, he concluded that no amount of forewarning would have prepared him.

 

“Is it possible to just forget about it?” Cale questioned, successfully managing to mask how adverse he was to such an idea. While he couldn't help but long for something more with Squall, he knew what reality had in store and feared that not forgetting would mean losing everything.

 

Frowning, Squall asked, “Did you ever plan to tell me?”

 

“In my will,” Cale answered. While that was pretty much the truth of it, he'd known from the start that something would eventually slip. The tug of war between wanting to express his love and his fear at what doing so would lose him couldn't have remained stalemated forever.

 

Scowling, Squall informed, “I'm serious.”

 

“I wasn't,” came the solemn reply. “My intentions have never been anything but upfront. I never intended to be anything but friends.”

 

Confused and somewhat annoyed at never seeing it himself, Squall questioned, “And that would make you happy?” It was ridiculous to do something like that. Carrying on with buried emotions could only make a person miserable. While he was hardly an expert in matters of the heart, this was simply common sense. It was living a lie, and he felt confident he could relate to the oppressing feeling of it all.

 

Smiling gently, crimson eyes softening as he stared unwaveringly, Cale confessed, “Seeing you happy makes me happy.” Some times he wondered if his resolve was enough to control his emotions. At the moment, seeing Squall's pale cheeks tinged with embarrassment, he was terribly ashamed to find the reaction cute. He should be feeling guilty at causing the brunet distress, not enticed by it. “It doesn't matter if you don't talk freely with me or if I can never be as good a friend as the ones you grew up with. I'm happy just to keep you company when you have no one else.”

 

Squall felt a pang of guilt at Cale's words. If Irvine were still in Esthar, he'd probably never have given the professor the time of day. In many ways, he was just using the younger man.

 

“I'm sorry if this causes you trouble,” Cale stated.

 

Brows drawing together in a lost expression, Squall stared into the other man's oddly colored eyes for a long moment. What had he been expecting? It might have been easier if Cale weren't being so nice about it. Easier to do what though; let the guy down, cut all ties?

 

With a wry smile and a gaze that betrayed his longing, Cale reached out and simply cupped Squall's cheek. He made no further movements when grey-blue eyes widened slightly in shock and even greater confusion. “Please don't leave me entirely,” he requested quietly.

 

Fighting to determine some course of action, Squall felt it would be best to simply say he needed more time. However, he hated being indecisive and couldn't bring himself to say anything, which was even worse.

 

“You need time to think,” Cale observed.

 

With a bare nod, Squall caved into his desire to procrastinate dealing with any of it. The situation he was presented with seemed to finally set in. His attention was suddenly drawn to the hand still touching his cheek and the short proximity between them. Wondering briefly if Cale were going to kiss him again, his eyes darted to the man's lips. He blushed when returning his focus to crimson eyes and realizing his drift of thought had been noticed.

 

“I don't know what's going through that head of yours,” Cale said. Leaning in closer, his hand moved to gently rest against the nape of a slender neck. “Stop me any time,” he murmured before closing the distance between them.

 

Squall felt the relaxed hold at his neck, useless in its gentleness that wouldn't even have kept a newborn in place. With the sort of impassiveness that he'd presented the entire situation with, he let Cale kiss him.

 

Barely a ghosting touch on his lips, Squall began to wonder if Cale were a thirty-two year old man in love or a fourteen-year-old boy with a crush. As if in answer to his unasked question, the exchanged deepened. In a firmer press, their lips were meshed together, a slow and subtle movement to it. At the feel of another hand seeking to find placement along his jaw line, he froze for a moment, but found himself invariably drawn right back in.

 

At the sudden vibration of his cell phone, Squall reared back, slick lipped and fearful that he'd just made a huge mistake. Hastily answering the call, his hands fumbled to find the whirring device in his jean pocket. Managing to answer it with at least some of his dignity intact, he cleared his throat before speaking, “Leonhart.” At least he'd gotten his name right.

 

“Dad,” Lore greeted on the other end with slight concern.

 

Squall berated himself for not checking the caller ID first. When it was Lore he never answered so formally. “Hey,” he muttered before it became obvious he was entirely frazzled at the moment. As his mind slowly caught up with him, he managed to remember that there had been a soccer game. “Is the game over already?” he questioned.

 

“Yeah. The Toramas remain undefeated.” There was an uncertain pause. “Are you okay?” the young man asked with evident concern in his tone.

 

“Fine,” Squall answered, unable to look at Cale.

 

“I'll be home in a few minutes. Are we ordering pizza tonight or are you in the mood for something else?”

 

Squall fought to keep his composure when the cushion he sat on shifted as Cale stood up. Bowing his head, he covered his eyes with one hand while holding the phone to his ear with the other. His mind was in two different places, jumping back and forth but to no avail for either situation. The sound of the coffee mugs chinking together told him that Cale was expecting his immediate departure.

 

“Dad?” Lore prompted.

 

“Uhh,” Squall intoned, trying to figure a good way to explain that he wasn't currently at home. “I can pick up some takeout from Joney's on my way home,” he answered.

 

“Oh,” Lore replied. “I didn't know you were out.”

 

Swallowing thickly, hating the bitterness that came with not being entirely honest with his son, Squall said, “If you want pizza that's fine, but I'll be going by the place anyway.”

 

“Joney's sounds good. I like anything Galbadian.”

 

“I know,” Squall replied, having made the suggestion for that very reason.

 

“So where are you right now?” Lore inquired with a note of hesitation, as if detecting that his father didn't want to tell him.

 

Squall felt the return of Cale's presence, hovering behind the couch, purposely keeping silent for his sake. Shaking his head to rid himself of the inclination to lie, he admitted, “I'm at Cale's apartment. I was just leaving.”

 

There was a long moment of silence, in which Squall knew his son was probably staring with disbelieving eyes.

 

TBC…