Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Thirteen ( Chapter 13 )

Defining Love

Chapter Thirteen

 

“Well this is a surprise,” Irvine drawled as he managed the last leg of weaving the crowded bleachers, taking a seat next to Squall. Front and center, it was a noisy home game with spectators consisting of students, parents, teachers, and anyone who knew a player or had nothing else to do on a Monday evening.

 

Squall called his argument with Seifer to a halt, turning his focus to the second unexpected guest of the day. “I didn't know you were coming,” he greeted, not exactly ecstatic.

 

“I thought I'd surprise you,” the gunman returned. Casually pecking a pale cheek, perhaps with the ulterior motive to remind Squall about a special someone, Irvine gave his official greeting. Leaning across the youthful looking man's lap, he then extended his hand to the ex-knight. “I didn't expect you to have the balls to show face again, but I hear you're staying in Esthar of all places,” he greeted in a less warming manner than he did the former commander. Violet-blue eyes narrowed without a trace of humor.

 

Seifer shook the cowboy's hand firmly, smirking his arrogant smirk and not giving a damn what Kinneas thought. “Just how many guard dogs does one man need?” he questioned. He should have known considering it was Commander Leonhart, savior of the world. Apparently there was some failsafe plan consisting of an arsenal of bouncers that systematically stepped in to protect Leonhart's virginity. While he wasn't after the virgin boy's goods, he would like more than two seconds alone with the man.

 

“Seifer, you should leave,” Squall said, eyes glued to soccer field as he valiantly tried not to become distracted.

 

“I came here especially for you,” the ex-knight protested, having absolutely no intention of leaving without Leonhart at his side, or at least some compensating arrangement.

 

Relying on Lore's offensive skills to keep the players focused at the opposing team's goal, incidentally farther away from where he was seated, Squall finally tore his eyes from the game and glared at the imposing ex-knight. “I'll meet you later.” Hyne knew he wouldn't be rid of the man otherwise.

 

“You'll come the second the game is over?” Seifer questioned, a certain childish tone of insecurity that almost alluded to his possible want for the commander to pinky swear and make it a promise. It was some twisted fate that there was finally someone in the world that was able to effectively keep Leonhart's attention away from him, and it was his own flesh and blood.

 

“Seifer,” Squall said with an accompanying sigh. Not knowing where the man's incessant need to hound him came from, he could only be patient as always. “It could be as late as eight o'clock when it ends. Lore needs to go home and I don't even know what we're doing for dinner yet.”

 

“Then after that. I don't care how late it is,” the blond man pressed, refusing to take `no' for an answer.

 

“Yes,” Squall relented. “Now leave before you cause trouble.”

 

With a victorious smile, Seifer stood up. “Bring your blade,” he added. “If you're not there by nine, I'm coming to your place to get you.” Eyes alight with mischievous delight, the ex-knight stared for a moment into the gunman's eyes. “Always a pleasure Kinneas, and you should know I've got the balls to do just about anything,” he said in parting.

 

Irvine watched in annoyance as the ex-knight left, that head of blond hair visible from a mile away. “I'll have a decent range on the guy for about another ten meters, want me to put a bullet in him?” Irvine drawled, hands slipping into his coat to retrieve his gun.

 

“No,” Squall answered, eyes turning back to the game. “It's the first half still and Mercy is up by two. Lore just made a penalty kick.”

 

“That's my nephew,” the gunman said proudly, taking a brief moment to actually watch the match that was going on. “So back to the real issue, what the hell was Seifer Almasy doing here and what are you doing with him later? I would have thought you'd have plans to be seeing someone else during after hours.”

 

Scowling, Squall replied, “He's looking for the right place to open up a training center for gunbladists. He wants to test it out first.” Why did he feel the sudden need to defend his interaction with Seifer? Even Lore accepted it grudgingly, though it was only because it was solely sparring.

 

“Oh, I see,” Irvine commented. “May I ask about Cale? Why is it you're free to go around testing training grounds when you should be having candle lit dinners and sex `til you can't stand?”

 

Eyes widening, Squall stared at Irvine as though the man had two heads. “Is that what you came here to say?”

 

“No, I came to make sure you were actually getting laid. I can't say I expected to have to make sure you were getting laid by the right guy though, that part is a bit unexpected.”

 

“Irvine,” Squall spoke impassively, his voice not matching his mood. “Not everything is open for discussion.”

 

“Well it should be,” the gunman returned, settling in for the long haul after realizing the match had only begun.

 

“Well it's not,” the brunet affirmed. He didn't feel particularly open to talking about such matters in the first place, let alone in the middle of crowded bleachers. The noise and cheering didn't entirely deafen their voices, and with his luck he'd say the wrong thing when everything grew extremely quiet. Public image no longer meant anything to him, but being on school grounds seemed to make censorship necessary.

 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Irvine rocked to the side and nudged Squall to remind the man that he was only ever looking out for the inexperienced man's well being. “Are you warm enough in that jacket?” he asked in a change of pace. “I've got three layers on, you can take mine. Or even better, there's room enough for two.”

 

Shrugging deeper into his bomber jacket, the fur collar brushing against his jaw, Squall answered, “I'm fine.”

 

“Which generally means you're not fine, but today I'll take your word for it.”

 

Giving the man a halfhearted glare, Squall muttered a cynical, “Thanks.”

 

“It's not like I want to be the nagging friend or that I'm hoping you'll wake up sometime this week in someone else's bed, but I want to make sure you're not turning your back on the opportunity all together,” the gunman explained. “It would be nice if you woke up in the guy's bed sometime soon,” he added with a grin.

 

“…” Why was everyone suddenly so damn interested in his love life? Lore was worried about someone raping him and Irvine seemed to be worried that someone wasn't raping him. For once, he'd like it if someone would stop to realize that he was a grown man, capable of defending himself and not in need of some serious fucking.

 

“Come on Squall. I know just as well now as I ever did. You wouldn't have come to me about Laguna's secretary if the guy didn't mean enough to you to sort it all out.”

 

“I talked to him,” Squall admitted, hoping to satisfy Irvine with that much, though he knew it wasn't going to cut it. He didn't bother to point out that Cale was a political science professor, knowing the sharpshooter was hoping to goad him into making the correction. Apparently knowing someone's proper profession meant he was in love with them, as he'd been repeatedly picked on for it during their last mission.

 

Chuckling at the sorry attempt, Irvine gently elbowed the tightlipped man in the side. “And?” he prompted expectantly.

 

“And he's in love with me.” Pale cheeks heated at the admission, as though he were the one with a secret love to confess.

 

“Uh-huh, and?” Irvine had already determined that much. He wasn't about to inform Squall that just about anyone with a little more self awareness and experience would have been able to tell that much.

 

“…” Frowning, grey-blue gazed at the gunman with question. Just what did the auburn haired man want him to say.

 

“Are you dating him? Do you like him?” the gunman pressed. As simple as liking a person could be, it was never uncomplicated when Squall was involved.

 

“Lore doesn't like him,” the brunet said, eyes scanning the grassy field for his son.

 

“I see,” Irvine muttered, leaving it at that. Hyne himself couldn't have talked Squall into getting together with someone without Lore's approval. Knowing the order of events he'd need to go through, he settled for pulling teeth and coaxing the sexually repressed man to divulge details on what had already occurred.

 

---

 

“Uncle Irvine,” Lore spoke with forced calmness, his eyes darting to the stick shift every time the gunman used it.

 

“Hmm,” Irvine intoned absently, eyes on the road while he enjoyed the feel of driving a brand new Pandemona Windstorm.

 

“Maybe you could take it easy,” the dark haired youth suggested, a detectable note of nervousness in his voice.

 

Chuckling, Irvine assured, “I'm a good driver, and there's barely any traffic.”

 

Throwing subtle hinting to the wind, Lore responded, “I'm not worried about traffic, I'm worried about my transmission. Who taught you to shift gears?”

 

Frowning, Irvine sent his nephew an insulted glare. “I've been driving since I was twelve years old. You got your license yesterday.”

 

“Dad taught me to drive, and the gears shift without making noise when I do it,” Lore shot back. Smirking, he added, “And I never stall.”

 

“Let a man have his fun. I never get to drive anymore, your aunt sees to that,” the gunman requested. “And for the record, the airships I usually drive can't stall.” With a `top that' look, he returned his focus to the road.

 

Nodding simply to appease his uncle, Lore hid his amused smirk behind his hand. “I'm still driving back,” he muttered.

 

“All things considered, I didn't ask you out for driving tips.” Slowing and shifting to first, he slid smoothly to a stop on the side of the street. Gesturing for the boy to look out the window, he said, “This place is ten times better than that café you and Squall are always at and about fifty times cheaper.”

 

Shaking his head, Lore informed, “I go to Lexis for the company not the coffee.”

 

“Darlin', I've never seen anyone with such a flame for their father,” the gunman stated in mild scrutiny. Habitually pulling the e-break, he cut the engine and kindly handed the keys to their rightful owner.

 

Rolling his eyes, having heard it all before, Lore pocketed the keys. “Don't be jealous Uncle Irvine. I had nothing to do with you not having a dad to have a complex for.”

 

“I know you didn't get that lip from Squall. You've been seeing too much of Seifer,” the auburn haired man drawled, turning to retrieve his hat form the back seat.

 

Finding mutual disapproval in the ex-knight's sudden presence in Esthar, Lore questioned, “Did Dad tell you about how he's been showing up?” Technically, it was only the one time, but he knew there would be more.

 

Scoffing, Irvine assured, “Only after I spotted them together.” Squall never told anyone anything without being caught or being desperate. It wouldn't have been so bad if the former commander didn't suddenly have so many matters that needed his consult.

 

In the middle of opening his door, Lore froze. Brows drawn in thought he looked back at his uncle. “When did you see them together?” Unless the gunman had seen Seifer with his father that afternoon, there really wasn't any other time it could have happened.

 

“Today,” Irvine replied without thinking. Realizing belatedly what his blunder had been, he wished Selphie were there to think up a lie. He was no good at lying, not when he had to make it up on the spot. “I mean, he mentioned something without thinking, so I called him on it.”

 

“Riiight,” Lore commented. “So if I call you on accidentally mentioning that Seifer was around my dad today, will you confess too?”

 

Cringing, Irvine cursed the boy's perceptiveness. “I'll tell you once we go inside and sit down,” he compromised flatly.

 

“Lead the way,” Lore said with a smile, enjoying his win over someone who was by all rights far smarter and more experienced than him.

 

“I'm turning into Zell,” the gunman muttered to himself, placing his hat on his head as he stepped out of the sleek sunset orange car. While it stuck out like a sore thumb, he approved of the boy's tastes and took into account that Laguna had been involved in the purchasing process.

 

Lore matched the slow, casual gait of his uncle as they strode into The Card House. They took an entire booth for themselves, the less than crowded joint able to accommodate the small luxury of extra elbowroom. The gunman shrugged out of his long coat, enjoying the warm air and dull buzz of gamers nearby. The Card House was for playing card games and grabbing a bite to eat.

 

Lore glanced around, checking the place out before deciding he really didn't care where he was. Rubbing his arms to be rid of the chill he'd received from the short walk to the café, he scooted closer to the out of date heating vent on the windowsill their booth was against.

 

Chuckling, Irvine commented on the boy's lack of outdoor attire. “You shouldn't have insisted Squall take your coat, it was more tantrum-like than chivalrous.”

 

Giving his uncle an incredulous look, Lore settled down as though he hadn't been cold. “It's thirty degrees out right now. Do you think I'm going to let Dad walk around in that bomber jacket as though it isn't a record low for the season?”

 

Not usually one to state the obvious, the longhaired cowboy pointed out, “Now Squall has two jackets and you have none.”

 

Shrugging, Lore reasoned, “It usually takes a while for my body to cool down after a match. I was too hot to wear it and he was shivering.”

 

“He was not shivering,” Irvine refuted.

 

“He was,” Lore shot back stubbornly. Reminding himself what his true focus should be, he shifted to what he really wanted to discuss. “So, let's talk about Seifer and my dad.”

 

“For the record,” Irvine drawled, “I actually wanted to talk to you about Cale and your dad, but we can start at point A and end at point B.” If there was any chance in Squall dating someone, then it was through Lore's approval. If he was as smooth a talker as he liked to think, then he could make the boy's father's complex work to his advantage.

 

Lore stared with uncertainty for a long moment, searching for some answer in his uncle's oddly colored violet-blue eyes. Filing away that the man was likely more informed on what had happened at Cale's apartment than he was, he tried not to reveal that he felt like lunging across the table and demanding to be told what had happened.

 

Clearing his throat, seeing youthful impatience in the young man, Irvine adjusted his hat and reclined more comfortably. “Let's order first,” he suggested, spotting an approaching waitress out of the corner of his eye.

 

As a young woman approached their booth, offering a couple menus, Irvine browsed the list curiously.

 

“What can I get you two to drink tonight?” the cheerful blonde questioned with a pen and pad at the ready.

 

Irvine pretended to mull it over for a moment before drawling, “I'd like a cup of green tea.” With a crooked smile, he charmed a reflexive grin from the young woman who seemed incapable of looking away.

 

“Okay, one green tea, and I assume you'd like that hot given the weather we've been having,” the waitress spoke, scribbling the order with her pen.

 

“You read my mind darlin',” Irvine said with a confirming nod.

 

“And what can I get you?” she questioned, her stance shifting a bit.

 

Lore debated the evils of having coffee when it was almost eight o'clock on a Monday night. Worn out from his game, he concluded that he still had a massive amount of homework to address before going to bed and could use the caffeine. Scouring the beverage section of the menu, he requested, “Hazelnut cappuccino.”

 

“I'll be back shortly with your drinks and to take your dinner order,” the young woman promised, leaving them with a bright smile and eyes that seemed to dance with the knowledge of being in the presence of someone possibly famous.

 

“Everything on the menu is great, but anything with eggs or chicken can be made better by Squall,” the gunman informed, perusing the choices and pondering what he was in the mood for.

 

Frowning, Lore commented, “I thought we were just getting a drink.”

 

Shrugging, Irvine informed, “It's my treat, don't worry about it.”

 

Lore shook his head. Money wasn't the problem. “I wanted to eat a late dinner with Dad. I swear that he's been skipping meals every time I'm not eating with him.”

 

Slouching down a bit, almost cowering behind the open menu, Irvine mumbled, “He's out with Seifer and won't be back `til late.” Coughing as though he'd simply mentioned something too trivial to pay any more attention to, he changed the subject, “I think I'm gonna order the seared tuna. It's not the freshest tuna, but they put something in the wasabi that makes the whole thing worth it.”

 

“Uncle Irvine,” Lore placated with edging exasperation, not one to fool around when it came to his father. “I'm sixteen, not six.”

 

Feigning engrossment in the menu, Irvine glanced up and smiled. “So you are,” he agreed, wondering why his tap dancing skills never helped him in dodging proverbial bullets.

 

“Let's backtrack to the part where you saw my dad with Seifer and keep going until the part where they'll be out late together tonight,” the young man suggested, blue-green eyes staring with determination.

 

Setting the menu down, Irvine tipped his hat back. “It's only fair that you know everything. But for the sake of keeping our time sacred, let's make it an after dinner discussion.”

 

Not enthused about prolonging anything, Lore felt uncomfortable in refusing the request.

 

Irvine knew how the boy felt, but he also knew he was bout to walk into a minefield and could use more time to prepare. “I have a feeling we might not be very agreeable, so give me one last dinner with my favorite nephew before we stop talking to each other. I'll give you every gritty detail if you can indulge me here.”

 

Taking a deep breath and sizing his uncle up, Lore nodded in agreement. “Deal,” he said, slightly wary about what could set them on opposing ends.

 

---

 

“This is perfect isn't it,” Seifer said, groaning as he stretched his arms above his head. Lying on a packed dirt ground, he made certain to cradle his head with his hands so that none of his hair touched the dirt.

 

Making a noncommittal noise of agreement, Squall went back to ignoring that anyone else was with him. His body was tired after fighting and it was almost eleven o'clock, which was sadly his usual bedtime.

 

“Some rich fucker wanted to make a storage house out of it for storing all the unnecessary shit his company bought, but he went bankrupt before they even finished laying the ground.” Grinning to himself, Seifer was content with his brilliant new plan for a training center. Between fishing and fighting, he had to be doing one of the two to be successful.

 

Squall yawned, his breathing even and the cold air taking its toll. “Are you taking it?” he questioned, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his son's coat. With both his bomber jacket and the nylon parka, he doubt he'd become too cold even as he lay motionless and open to outer elements.

 

“I'd be an idiot not to. It's a fucking steal,” the ex-knight declared, chuckling at nothing in particular but the hopeful prospect of starting something he'd enjoy. Fuck Fujin and Raijin, he didn't need them.

 

Grey-blue eyes stared up at the night sky through the unfinished roofing of the partially enclosed expanse. The abandoned structure would have to be torn down so that whatever arena or gym Seifer had in mind could be built up. In retrospect, it was rather surprising that there wasn't a better facility to train, though anyone looking for that sort of thing usually just enrolled in a garden.

 

“Which district are we in?” Seifer questioned, unable to keep track of all one hundred districts of the large city nation. He knew his hotel was in the sixth, and that was about it.

 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Squall thought about it. “Fortieth or fiftieth,” he answered in estimation.

 

Frowning, Seifer turned his head to the side to glance at the former commander. “Well which is it?”

 

Shrugging subtly, Squall replied, “It depends how far west we're facing.”

 

“How far west we're facing,” Seifer repeated with a mocking tone. “What the hell does that having to do with anything?” he questioned.

 

Opening his eyes, Squall turned his head to look at the ex-knight. He scowled at the expectancy in jade-green eyes, as though it was his job to give some elaborate explanation. “From the presidential residence outward, the district numbers increase, but they also coordinate with direction.”

 

“Okay,” Seifer said before he learned which direction meant what. “Fortieth or fiftieth, I got it.” If there was any up side to Leonhart's tendency to file away every little fact, it was that the younger man didn't spout it all off like some annoyingly smart prick, only when prompted first.

 

Rolling his eyes, Squall turned his attention back to the sky. It was clear and they were fairly close to the outskirts, which meant less light pollution. There wasn't much point in his staying there any longer, but he found himself reluctant to get up. Maybe he was getting old. Spars never used to leave him tired.

 

Sighing contently, Seifer enjoyed the view. Coming to Esthar was ironically a very good move. Maybe it was the foreign city, the busy life with crowded streets. He'd always enjoyed being out on the ocean in the middle of nowhere, but the idea of doing that forever was not very attractive. The greatest part about it all was being able to pick up his blade and have his swings countered skillfully instead of slicing the air.

 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Seifer just relaxed. He could see his breaths each time he exhaled heavily. At the sound of Leonhart shifting around, he wondered if he weren't the only one with a frozen ass at the moment. “This is uncomfortable,” he grumbled, giving an exaggerated groan as he sat up.

 

“Is your kid going to flip out on me for this?” he queried with underlying mirth. “Seriously Squally-boy, what's up with him and Kinneas? You used to hate shit like that, whenever Matron tried to keep tabs on you every time you stepped out the door.” Then again, Leonhart had had some sort of issue with running away, sometimes having been gone for days at a time after Sis had left.

 

When no reply came, Seifer wasn't surprised. He was slightly surprised, however, to be the one suggesting they head back. “It's fucking cold,” he complained, wiping his hands off and taking care to remove any possible particles of dirt from his hair.

 

Seifer glanced Leonhart's way. Halting his attempt to stand up, he stared for a moment. “Hey,” he called, waiting to see if the brunet were listening.

 

Curled on his side, seemingly asleep, Squall lay on the cold ground as though it were a bed. Impervious to the blond's words and the world around him, a soft sight escaped barely parted lips as he drifted further.

 

Blond eyebrows rose in disbelief. Entirely unguarded, falling asleep out in the open like it was nothing. “No wonder you have so many guard dogs,” Seifer criticized. “You need them.”

 

Reaching out, he nudged a shoulder. His hand sinking down against the various layers Leonhart wore, reminding him that the frame he saw was even smaller underneath.

 

---

 

Glaring sardonically across the table, Lore muttered, “What part of you coercing my dad to go out alone with that ass, isn't supposed to make me annoyed?”

 

“`That ass',” Irvine repeated with shared understanding. “That man has a gift for knowing exactly what annoys a person most.” He'd been on the receiving end more than once during his brief encounters with the ex-knight.

 

Unamused, Lore simply stared. Finished with dinner, he had jumped into the question immediately.

 

“I see that turning sixteen pushed you past the stage where you loved my ability to not take things too seriously,” the gunman commented.

 

Sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose, Lore conceded that he was being a bit too hostile with his uncle. “I'm sorry, it's just been really weird lately and it's hard not to worry all the time.”

 

“I understand,” Irvine assured, folding his hands atop the table diplomatically. “In all honesty, Seifer Almasy is everything he appears to be, but sometimes that's not always bad.”

 

Making a face of annoyance, the young man commented, “You didn't see him when he came over Saturday morning. Not even calling, it was like Dad had nothing better to do but cater to his every need. And he had this look in his eyes, like he was going to stop off at his hotel real quick and invite Dad up before jumping him.”

 

“Overactive imaginations aside, your dad's a very good judge of character,” Irvine replied. When his nephew gave him a dismissing look, he pressed, “I'm serious. You've heard the stories about your father. Being called an ice prince, he didn't waste his time on people he didn't like.”

 

“Oh, that's reassuring,” Lore said sarcastically. “Now my dad's out alone with someone he likes.”

 

“Not like that,” Irvine drawled slowly, giving the dark haired youth a piercing gaze. On some level, he supposed Seifer being Lore's father resonated deeply and might even be part of why the boy was so opposed to the ex-knight's presence. It was difficult to tell with the sort of effect Seifer was known for having on people.

 

Waving a hand to dismiss the notion, Lore redirected, “When did you see them together?” He was holding off on feeling hurt about anything done behind his back, firmly believing his father wouldn't be able to that even on accident, not after reconciling over Cale.

 

“When I showed up at your game, they were together,” Irvine spoke carefully, making sure to continue before a sudden breeze announced his nephew's departure. “Squall was telling him to leave before you saw from the field. I made sure Seifer felt unwelcome on your behalf, and that's pretty much how it went.”

 

“What did he want?” Lore inquired, interested in every little detail, wanting an estimation on how close they were sitting and where the ex-knight's hands were placed.

 

Not savvy of the intricacies of Squall's relationship with Seifer, Irvine bottom-lined it. “He wanted another spar, to test the fighting grounds of a training center he wants to create, or buy. Strictly business between long time rivals.”

 

“I know you played some role in getting him to leave before I finished changing after the game.” Looking to blame someone for that in particular, Lore awaited an explanation.

 

“I did,” Irvine said with an apologetic smile. “I told him I'd stop being his best friend if he didn't go and that I wanted to take you out for dinner.”

 

“Did it seem at all important that I ran to the stands to see him before hurrying to get changed?” Not truly angry with his uncle, the agitation in his voice was only mild. Tersely drinking a refill on his cappuccino, he let his actions speak louder.

 

“It seemed important in the sense that you have a major father complex, but not in the sense that I needed to talk to you about Squall getting laid,” Irvine answered smoothly.

 

Nearly spitting his mouthful out, Lore managed to swallow most of it before coughing. “What?” he managed hoarsely, continuing to cough some more.

 

“I realize this isn't a very appropriate conversation topic, you being underage and Squall being your father. But given your unique relationship, I feel it's necessary.” Removing his hat, Irvine tried to impress that while it might seem bazaar, he was entirely sincere.

 

Face slightly flushed from the coughing, Lore took a few moments to compose himself before responding. “I have friends you know. I realize that my relationship with Dad isn't exactly common. I've met other dads, and most of them are going bald and only manage to squeeze in a little quality time during the holidays, which is usually when most of my friends beg to come over to my house to get away.”

 

Sighing with a fleeting look of longing, Irvine commented, “Some people just don't know how to appreciate what they have.”

 

“Dad is everything to me,” Lore declared with a straight face. “You can take away everything else in the world and it wouldn't matter so long as I had him.”

 

Smiling at the sentiment, Irvine was happy to remember that despite his living in another country, his revered leader was still being loved dearly. “I knew Squall had found something for himself when he had you. You've been number one in his life from the moment he found a name for you.”

 

Lore listened, slightly impassive. He didn't care to hear it all again when it wasn't coming from his father.

 

“Squall is someone who has always watched my back in battle, and even a few times in my love life, making sure I didn't go overboard with the ladies when I had Selphie to think about.”

 

“And you repay him by feeding him to the wolves?” Lore quipped jokingly.

 

“I repay him by trying to ease an approaching transition,” Irvine corrected. “Lore, you'll be graduating from high school in a couple years. You can't live with your dad all your life, he won't let you even if he'd prefer to not let go.”

 

“I might enroll in Balamb Garden. We've talked about both moving back there if I wanted to become a mercenary.”

 

“What about after that?” Irvine interjected with a frown. “Whether you go to a local college and live at home or become a cadet in the garden your dad works at, there will be a future that involves you only calling him on occasion and visiting infrequently.”

 

Aghast at such a suggestion, Lore gave an incredulous look. “Like hell,” he hissed defensively. “If you're tripping over Hanna and Terri, then that's your deal. Dad and I don't fit under the same umbrella as you guys.”

 

“You say that now,” Irvine interjected, hoping to sooth the offended boy with a calming tone of understanding. “But, when you're out on your own, with a job or kids, nightly dinners with your dad aren't an option.”

 

“If I live in the same area it won't ever be a problem. I just wrote a paper on cultural norms, and the whole nuclear family thing is totally overrated. Independence isn't stunted by staying together.”

 

Irvine leaned forward, only spurred to make his point clear. “Realistically speaking, you could live under the same roof for the rest of your life, but I guarantee your dad will still feel a sense of loss.”

 

“Loss, what loss?” Lore questioned, slightly on edge with his emotions being stirred up so much. There was nothing to lose if they saw each other all the time.

 

“The loss of his son that used to climb into his lap like it was the most comfortable chair, even when there was company,” Irvine gave as example. “The loss of his little boy that used to rely on him and need him for everything,” he continued. “The loss of going to all your soccer matches and watching you run up and down the field, not even aware that he smiles every time you score a goal.”

 

“Okay,” Lore muttered, looking away, unable to see the emotion in his uncle's eyes. Obviously going through such a loss at the moment, he didn't think he could stand to imagine that his father's eyes might have the same subtle gleam of sadness.

 

“Your aunt used to never be able to find her cell phone when she needed it. She hates phones in general,” Irvine said, spinning a story to make a bigger picture.

 

“I know. She says it's easier to just fly the ship to see people than stand around talking to a voice,” Lore agreed, patiently waiting for the point to be made, wondering why he was the one receiving a lecture.

 

Loathing that he was the wise older man attempting to give some lecture, Irvine sacrificed his ego for Squall's sake. “Ever since Hanna and Terri moved out, she's mastered the art of text messaging and usually stuffs our house phone in her pocket with her cell phone.”

 

Seeing where his uncle was going, Lore said, “That's because they never call. I won't do that.”

 

Shaking his head, running a hand through long auburn locks, the gunman stated, “It's not a bad thing. The girls are busy with school and adjusting to a new way of life. They're growing and it's perfectly fine that they don't check in every day.”

 

“That's one way things turn out, but it still has nothing to do with me and Dad,” Lore concluded.

 

Sighing, Irvine said, “Maybe not, but I'm trying to give you an idea of how it works.” Holding the attention of blue-green eyes, he set things back on track, “Even with Tyler, Selphie and I miss the girls. Every meal we eat that has two less servings, every day that goes by where we don't see them.”

 

“Empty nest syndrome,” Lore interjected in jest.

 

“Make fun of it all you want,” Irvine said, smiling in turn with his nephew's amusement. “But that's exactly what it is, though I don't think that's the scientific term for it.”

 

Lore glanced at his watch, shocked that it was already after nine o'clock. “Maybe we should go,” he suggested, itching to get back home to be with his father.

 

“Trust me, this isn't a conversation for the road,” Irvine turned down, well aware that it was taking a while to reach the heart of the matter. It would be useless if he couldn't impress the truth behind Squall needing someone else in life.

 

“Fine,” Lore conceded, settling back down.

 

Smiling reassuringly, Irvine expressed his appreciation. It was a Monday, Lore had school the next day, and the boy was probably still worried about Squall seeing Seifer. Nonetheless, he was determined to hash it all out in a timely manner. “While every family is different, one thing is always the same.”

 

“Empty nest syndrome,” Lore supplied in answer.

 

“Yes, and I'm not loving that title,” the gunman spoke with a smirk. “Now I've got your aunt and cousin with me without fail. Things are fine, and my little lady isn't the type of sad that involves tears.” Growing solemn, he stared vacantly at the tabletop for a long moment, effectively drawing Lore's concern. “Squall has one thing going for him right now, and what do you think will happen when it sets in that you're all grown up?”

 

“Do we ever really finish growing up?” Lore countered.

 

“Think about it,” Irvine chastised. “Really consider it for a moment. If you think for two seconds that your dad won't be affected, then you're wrong. He can't have only you in his life. It wouldn't be fair to him.”

 

“What wouldn't be fair?”

 

“Disapproving of a suitor just because you don't want to share, isn't fair,” Irvine clarified

 

Smiling at how his uncle had finally made it to point B, Lore rubbed his chin. “You mean Cale,” he muttered, not thrilled that the gunman seemed to be suggesting his father actually consider Cale as a suitor.

 

“Cale, or any other person your dad shows an interest in,” Irvine affirmed.

 

“What interest? He's the coach of a swim team and Dad swims all the time. It's only coincidence and Cale's constant attempts to hang out that make them friends.”

 

“That's not what your dad told me,” Irvine said, carefully gauging the boy's reaction.

 

Staring in momentary shock, Lore's eyes tried to find some flicker of dishonesty in the gunman's face. “What?” he spoke quietly, brows drawing together.

 

“Squall isn't going to date Cale because you don't approve, and he'll probably end up never seeing the guy again because he can't let someone torture themselves for him,” Irvine explained.

 

“Torture? You mean constantly think about getting into my dad's pants and never being able to?” Lore muttered darkly.

 

“If you change `pants' with `heart', then yeah,” the gunman drawled. “This man, who I will meet myself to judge before letting anything happen, is in love with your father. Squall told me about what happened Friday at Cale's apartment.”

 

“What happened?” Lore questioned hurriedly, having all but dropped the topic for fear of ever having a repeat of the night he'd ignored his father.

 

“A man confessed his love, that's what happened. No one was injured and no one slipped anything into anyone's drink.”

“He didn't do anything to Dad?” Lore questioned doubtfully.

 

Shrugging dismissively, Irvine informed, “They might have kissed a bit, but from the way Squall's cheeks went scarlet, I'd say it was consensual.”

 

Blue-green eyes widened. “Are you being serious? I mean, can you swear that's what happened if you weren't there?”

 

“I can believe what your dad tells me, since he has no reason to lie and wouldn't even if he did.” Irvine studied the dark haired youth carefully. “It's human nature to be with someone, whether you spend your life dating around or settle down and get married. Your dad is human and has some of the same wiring as the rest of us.”

 

Sighing, Lore frowned. “I have no problem with my dad dating. It's Cale that I have the problem with.”

 

Irvine shook his head. “No. You'd have a problem no matter who it is. You're redefining what you really feel and projecting where it doesn't belong.”

 

“Hey, before you get all psychiatric on me, try witnessing the way he looks at Dad first.”

 

Chuckling, Irvine made the obvious guess. “I imagine he looks at Squall's ass every chance he gets and drools all over himself when they swim together.”

 

“You can joke about it, but that's how it is,” Lore said. His hand twitched to grab his cell phone to call his dad and make sure things were okay.

 

“I wasn't joking darlin',” Irvine informed with a sympathetic look. “If Cale were gonna do something so terribly insidious, he'd have done it already. If not that night in the apartment, then some time when they were changing in a locker room.”

 

“Gaining a person's trust takes time,” Lore countered.

 

“A year?” Irvine spoke in disbelief. “It doesn't take a whole year to gain Squall's trust. Your father knew me for about four hours before looking into my eyes with the unwavering belief that I wouldn't miss a target. He trusted me so much that I actually believed it myself.”

 

“Then Cale must be deranged, just playing a game.”

 

“The only game that man is playing is `look but don't touch'. I'm telling you as someone who cares just as much about Squall as you do-”

 

“You can't care as much about him as I do,” Lore cut in heatedly. “I'm his son. I exist because he brought me into this world. It's not the same as growing up together and being friends, it's more than that.”

 

Irvine waited a moment. Frustrated that he'd never be able to justly relate how war affected comrades, he settled for at least trying to. “It wasn't my childhood with Squall that brought us close. He was my leader. Every day, I followed him into battle and carried out his orders with any hesitation. He never let anything bad happen to any of us. Everyone who has ever known him is bound to him, not just his son or close friends.”

 

“That seems a little twisted,” Lore commented, having always disliked the fame that surrounded his father's name. Fame aside, his dad turned heads just by walking down the street.

 

“It's not normal if that's what you mean, but I think you know first hand just how many heads he turns.”

 

Lore scowled, the words he heard taken right from his thoughts. “It's the number of head turning that makes me worry so much. For all we know, Cale became Grandpa's secretary just to meet Dad.

 

Irvine laughed. “Hyne you're paranoid.”

 

“I'm just cautious,” Lore defended, throwing his uncle an insulted glare. “No one ever thinks the screwed up crap can happen to them, and then it does.”

 

“Well I think you've avoided the jinx,” Irvine assured with a smirk. “Let Squall date Cale if that's what he wants.”

 

“No way,” the youth turned down flat.

 

“Share your damn father Lore or I'll start making opportunities for him to be alone with this person.” Irvine hardly wanted to contend with his nephew of all people, but there were certain steps he'd take to at least make sure Squall had the freedom to find someone.

 

“It doesn't matter. Dad won't see him if I ask him not to,” Lore shot back.

 

Giving the sixteen year old a look of disappointment, Irvine didn't reply right away. He let Lore's words set in long enough that the boy would likely repeat them mentally. “You're right, he'd do anything you asked him to, even if he ends up never falling in love with anyone.”

 

Lore frowned, not having meant it like that exactly.

 

“I just thought you wouldn't abuse the hold you have over him for such a selfish reason, but I guess I thought wrong.” Slowly, Irvine reached out to pick his hat up. Methodically placing it on his head, it was like a signal that they had nothing left to discuss.

 

“Uncle Irvine,” Lore said in protest. “It's not like that. If Dad were interested in someone, I'd totally support him.”

 

Irvine leveled the boy with stern gaze. “We both know the order Squall will go in. He won't have any interest in someone without your support first. He's trapped in a Catch-22.”

 

“You're basing that on the assumption that once I graduate, I'll leave the country and never speak to Dad again. I've already told you that I have no intention of doing something in life that would separate us.”

 

Downing the dregs of cold green tea, cringing at the condensed flavor, Irvine set his cup down with a chink. If he didn't have to drink at least three cups of the tea a day, then Selphie harped at him, and she could tell if he had by looking into his eyes. “We can argue more in the car,” he said, reaching into his pants for his wallet.

 

Frowning, Lore instinctively reached for his coat, quickly remembering it was being put to better use. Sighing, he slid out of the booth and waited for his uncle.

 

Hardly willing to part with bitter words, Irvine slung an arm around his nephew's shoulders as they exited the café. “You know I love you, right?”

 

Groaning an unintelligible reply, Lore sulked over the whole matter. Usually agreeable on matters, he would clash heads with anyone if it involved his dad.

 

“I suggest we visit this suitor and ask him directly what his intentions are,” Irvine said before they got in the car.

 

Glancing over the roof of his car, holding the driver's side door open, Lore stared perplexed. The gunman acted as though he'd already agreed to give Cale a chance, which he absolutely had not. “I think men aren't a good fit for Dad and we should discuss the possibility of finding a nice woman for him instead.”

 

Irvine just laughed. Shaking his head and muttering to himself, he removed his hat and got in the car. Still laughing by the time Lore followed suit, he had to explain himself. “I'm sorry,” he apologized. “That was a good one.”

 

“It's not funny,” Lore commented, starting the car.

 

“Darlin',” Irvine placated. “There's just no way you can go around choosing your daddy's callers. Whether he has a gentleman or a lady coming on to him, I highly doubt someone as instinctive as your father is going to be concerned about in door or out door plumbing.”

 

“Huh?” Lore intoned in confusion, not certain he'd understand even if he'd been giving the gunman his undivided attention. Pulling out, he was somewhat distracted with trying to drive, which wasn't quite second nature yet.

 

Laughter tapering off, Irvine explained, “Squall is the definition of bisexual. He associates only with people he can stand to be around. If he has interest in a person, it isn't because they're male or female or beautiful or rich or even interesting. He's an anomaly, and I promise you that you'd spend your entire life trying to set him up with all sorts of women, but none of them would be right.” Having already counseled Squall through the embarrassment of his son bluntly questioning his sexuality, Irvine knew such a topic was not off limits with Lore.

 

“So you're saying that Cale is right for him?” Lore questioned.

 

“He's shown interest in Cale, which could mean it's a good match. Either way, it'd be good experience. Squall hasn't dated anyone since Rinoa, and she was his first girlfriend.”

 

“That's not true,” Lore disagreed. After a moment, he doubted himself. “Is it?”

 

“You know less about him than you think,” Irvine informed. “Now where does this guy live?”

 

Biting his lip in indecision, Lore turned the proper signal on before veering to the left and changing lanes at the last second. “He's about ten minutes from here,” he said. “And I'm not agreeing to anything.”

 

TBC…