Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Twenty-One ( Chapter 21 )

Defining Love

Chapter Twenty-One

 

Irvine hadn't coincidentally wound up on assignment with Squall. Being from Trabia, the occasions that called for him to fulfill a contract for Balamb Garden were few and far between, especially when his expertise as a sharpshooter wasn't needed.

 

Meeting up with the verbally stunted brunet en route to Timber, Irvine felt his body's temperature drop under the icy gaze of grey-blue eyes. “Nice to see you too, darlin',” he drawled informally, entering the former commander's private room on the speeding train.

 

Squall stared for a long moment before turning back to the small group of SeeD seated around him. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up and bringing the briefing to a halt.

 

Behind each serious face was untold curiosity. With rumor of an outside hand in the mission, the sight of the top ranked marksman in the world was almost unnerving.

 

Squall strode out of the private cabin, eyes fixed on the back of the cowboy's hat. He'd known the gunman would show up, but he couldn't fathom why and felt that it was out of line to bring in personal matters. It was entirely inappropriate to play the worried friend on a mission, but he assumed Irvine already knew that much.

 

Turning around with a boyish grin, violet-blue eyes leveled the pale man. “You might be asking yourself why I'm here,” he began, giving the squad leader an assuring look. He knew where to draw the line between business and personal matters, even if he was on the mission for personal reasons.

 

Gazing sardonically, Squall crossed his arms and tilted his chin up to meet the gunman's line of sight. “Quite the mind reader,” he commented sarcastically.

 

Making a point, Irvine reached out, stilling his hand when a surprisingly skittish brunet pulled back. “Easy,” he drawled gently, underlying fears rising.

 

“Don't,” Squall protested, grabbing an invasive hand when the gunman proceeded to pull at the collar of his high-necked shirt.

 

“Darlin',” Irvine said soothingly, staying his ground until the brunet relented to his harmless action. Hooking an index finger inside the collar, he pulled it down. “There's nothing,” he commented, observing pale skin and feeling certain there were no marks anywhere to be found.

 

“I know,” Squall mumbled, lightly knocking the gunman's hand away when the man was finally appeased.

 

Quirking a brow, Irvine inquired, “Then why are you wearing that shirt?”

 

Shrugging, Squall replied impassively, “It's just a shirt.” A potion had easily removed Seifer's marks, along with Cale's. Though his throat wasn't covered in hickeys, his body recalled the touch quite well and he couldn't stop feeling as though the marks were still there.

 

Rolling his eyes, Irvine refuted, “If it were just a shirt, you wouldn't be so skittish.”

 

“I'm not,” Squall muttered, turning away and staring off out the window. Managing to keep his composure for several more moments, he finally gave in to the gunman's relentless gaze of suspicion. Sighing, he hung his head and leaned against the cold windowpane for support.

 

“Is it because of Ultimecia's lapdog?” Irvine questioned with distain.

 

Glancing sidelong, Squall mumbled, “When did you start holding that against him?”

 

Frowning, Irvine returned, “Since he mauled you.”

 

“Nnn,” Squall intoned in quiet agreement. He wondered if his relationship with Irvine was a curse or a blessing, or if it changed depending on the circumstance. Reading his emotions even when he didn't show any felt like a curse, but more often than not he felt relieved after talking with the gunman.

 

“Did that bastard do something else?” the gunman pressed.

 

“Something else,” Squall murmured to himself in thought, recalling what that `something' had been. “I did see him again,” he offered in part confession.

 

“Alone?” Irvine asked calmly, ready to explode if the answer were affirmative.

 

“…” Squall gave a faint not, words lost on the meeting that he kept replaying in his head.

 

Taking his hat off and running a frustrated hand through long auburn hair, Irvine stalked away several steps before turning and pacing back. “This is exactly why I worry about you, walking right into such an unfavorable situation,” he commented quietly for the mission leader's ears only. Bending the brim of his hat, he chastised, “That ass is on par with you combat. He's twice your size and itching to make some twisted conquest. Do you know what happens when a man like that can get a hold of you?”

 

Having a fairly good idea, Squall didn't respond to the gunman's voiced worry. There was no need to divulge what had happened in detail, at least not when it seemed quite clear the lanky shooter was thinking along the same lines of what had happened.

 

“Does Cale know you went to see him again?” Irvine questioned, not liking how easily the brunet's relationship could fall apart under the strain of competition.

 

“No,” Squall said. He knew he should tell Cale, but wondered if it was necessary.

 

“It might not be a good idea to say anything,” Irvine advised cautiously.

 

Having figured that much himself, Squall preferred to discuss something he wasn't so sure about. “I'm confused,” he said, becoming confident that the gunman would be able to give him some clarity or perspective.

 

“Confused about what?” Irvine asked in a tone that implied there was nothing to be confused about.

 

“He seems serious,” Squall stated, referring to Seifer's intentions. “And,” he began hesitantly, not certain he could bring himself to speak the truth to another person.

 

“And what?” the auburn haired man prompted, not liking the direction the brunet was heading. When the former commander failed to speak further, he squeezed the man's shoulder and warned, “If for some insane reason you're harboring feelings for Seifer, just stop now.”

 

Head whipping to stare at the gunman incredulously, Squall bit out, “I'm not.”

 

“Then what are you confused about darlin'?” Irvine queried soothingly. “You've got a boyfriend who's head over heals for you and has Lore's approval.” Not to mention he'd gone through some bit of trouble setting the whole thing up. Whether or not he was overstepping his boundaries, he'd known the reticent leader for too many years to stand idly by while a vibrant life was diminished to nothing but raising a child. He knew the importance of parenthood, but he also knew the importance of not being defined by it. Squall needed someone before Lore left, otherwise his emotionally repressed buddy would be devastated.

 

“That's not it,” Squall said impassively. He knew the trouble that had gone into convincing Lore not to murder Cale. He also knew that it was a slightly cumbersome relationship when he was expected to make it work. He didn't love Cale, which wasn't a secret from anyone. His current dilemma had nothing to do with where his relationship with the college professor was going. “It's different with Seifer.”

 

Frowning, Irvine sidled close, arm brushing up against the shorter man's as he mimicked the cloistered stance against the window. “What's different?”

 

Clearing his throat and ignoring the heat he felt creep to his face, Squall confided, “When he touches me.”

 

Silent for a long while, Irvine eventually gathered enough courage to ask, “Did you sleep with him this time?” The chaste brunet was no inexperienced virgin, but considering the pale man only ever let himself go once in a blue moon, sex meant there was some sort of serious investment.

 

“Not exactly,” Squall replied succinctly, having anticipated the question.

 

“Does this not exactly involve him forcing you again?” Irvine questioned in a near growl.

 

“…” Squall wasn't certain how much to say on the matter. He knew how the gunman would react. It had only been a few days prior that Irvine had become trigger-happy over a small hickey, so he could imagine what happened if his close friend were privy to how far Seifer had taken things.

 

“What did he do to you?” Irvine hissed, ready to ram Exeter down the ex-knight's throat.

 

“It's a shared fault,” Squall informed, Seifer's heated accusations echoing in his head. “I sought him out, I knew the circumstances.”

 

Jaw clenching, Irvine hissed, “That excuses nothing.”

 

With an air of indifference, Squall murmured in disagreement, “It does.” Stormy blue eyes glanced outside at the blurred tree line. “He was right,” he stated, recalling what the ex-knight had said to him. Even if he hadn't intentionally asked for it, the way his body reacted was obviously how he truly felt and he'd gone back knowing that much.

 

Greatly troubled, Irvine took hold of the brunet's shoulders and directed the man to face him. “Squall,” he said firmly, “what you feel is lust.”

 

“Lust?” Squall questioned incredulously. To think that he could possibly feel lust for Seifer Almasy was the most insane notion he'd ever heard. Yet, the insanity began when the ex-knight had confessed and kissed him last week. If he felt lust for the man, then he wasn't the only insane person involved.

 

Nodding, Irvine asserted, “Don't confuse lust with your real feelings. You might lust after someone, but Cale is who you really want.”

 

Numb to the idea of lusting after anyone, Squall wasn't able to process it right away. His childhood rival still annoyed him to no end, but when Seifer touched him it was like fire. What had changed? The blond had touched him many times before, though never in a sexual manner.

 

“Squall, tell me you won't see him again,” Irvine insisted.

 

Frowning, Squall sent the gunman a cool glared. “I'm not a child. I'll see who I want,” he stated. Even if he wanted to, he doubted he could avoid the ex-knight forever.

 

Violet-blue eyes seemed to plead for a different answer. “I've never treated you like a child,” the gunman declared. “I've only ever wanted what was best for you, and right now I'm telling you as someone who knows more about these things than you, this asshole is toying with you.”

 

“…” Squall didn't know why he was so worked up about it. He'd already rejected the ex-knight clearly, so what did he expect to happen by further analyzing matters?

 

At the sound of the cabin door sliding open, Squall and Irvine broke away from the window and each other. It was no secret that they were friends, but in front of subordinates, there was a limit to how chummy they could act.

 

“Captain,” a female SeeD called out, finding their squad leader quicker than expected.

 

“We're coming,” Irvine drawled, smiling until the young woman blushed.

 

--

 

Lore was in high spirits as he left school. It was Friday and midterms were over. Soccer practice resumed the following day and even though it meant getting up early on a weekend, he was restless to get back on the field and forget that textbooks even existed.

 

Loosing his necktie and undoing the first button of his shirt, the dark haired youth trotted down the stairs of the Mercy High School's main entrance. Keys jangling as they dangled from a chain on his pant's belt loop, he was looking forward to returning home and seeing his father for the first time in two days.

 

Weather permitting, he wasn't even wearing his blazer and had left his jacket in the backseat of his car after mistakenly thinking he'd need it. It was finally more like spring, even if the mornings were still quite frigid.

 

Blue-green eyes scanned the student parking lot, mostly swimming with seniors and juniors and the occasional sophomore like himself. Stopping in his tracks abruptly, his eyes sharpened at the sight of golden blond hair.

 

Frowning, Lore wondered what the ex-knight was doing at his school. Better yet, why didn't anyone seem to care that the man was there. It was like there was an invisible bubble around the intimidating blond, preventing any students from coming closer than ten feet. Even if the parking lot were technically public property, it was reserved for students, not for ex-mercenaries who tried to take over the world to loiter in.

 

Seifer leaned against an eye-catching vehicle he knew belonged to Leonhart's kid. After his last encounter with the former commander, he decided he needed a change of tactics. He could have guessed it from the beginning, but hadn't planned on becoming so serious in wooing his reticent quarry. If he wanted to get Leonhart, he needed to get the son first. There was no doubting that Leonhart had a complex for the boy.

 

“What do you want?” Lore bit out in greeting, knowing very well who had injured his father's shoulder. Approaching cautiously, he stood several feet away with his keys in hand and backpack draping down to his elbow.

 

“I want to talk,” Seifer said smoothly, the fact that he'd obviously been waiting made his poor excuse true, if only for the fact that he'd had time come up with something significantly more believable.

 

“So talk,” Lore said, not certain what they could possibly discuss that would interest him.

 

“Let's go somewhere more suitable,” Seifer suggested as amicably as he could manage. Standing tall, he moved away from the driver side door and permitted access without having to be asked.

 

“You're serious?” Lore questioned uncertainly. He received an answer when the ex-knight moved to the other side of the car and waited to be let in. Scoffing, he debated the evils of conceding to the arrogant man's wishes. “Where's your car? I'm not going to run you around the city at your convenience.”

 

Holding back a retort, Seifer simply informed, “I'm capable of getting where I want to go without help. Don't worry about where my car is or how I'll get home.”

 

Glaring unduly, Lore felt inclined to putting the blond's words to the test. Perhaps he'd drive out to the middle of nowhere and strand the man. Knowing such a thing would be near impossible to accomplish, he unlocked the car. Still wary about what the blond wanted, he knew he probably didn't have much of a choice unless he felt like causing a scene in front of everyone. Sighing in defeat, he muttered, “Get in then.”

 

--

 

“I still don't understand why I can't try using a gunblade,” Lore complained as he gave a testing spin to his quarterstaff.

 

Rolling his eyes, Seifer said bluntly, “Because you'd kill yourself.”

 

Giving the ex-knight a heated glare, Lore informed, “I've handled one before.” He wasn't entirely without training. For the sake of enrolling in garden at a late age, he already knew the basics that mercenaries learned when young.

 

Barking with laughter, Seifer returned, “Cleaning your daddy's gunblades doesn't count.” At the feisty glare, he redirected, “Let's see where you're at.”

 

Frowning, Lore tried to remember the last time he'd practiced anything but soccer. “It's been a while,” he warned, suddenly uncertain about showing his skill level in front of someone on par with his father.

 

--

 

As Lore drove home, he found himself entirely confounded by the time he'd spent with Seifer. The disturbing truth was that he'd actually enjoyed practicing with the arrogant bastard. Though he was far from liking the ex-knight, he wasn't going to classify the man as pure evil just yet.

 

Pushing aside the negative, he focused on what he'd been looking forward to all day. His father would be home. For as long as he could remember, such occasions were always a cause for celebration. When he'd been younger, the days that his father had been away on missions had almost been unbearable. The time never went by fast enough, no matter how much his grandfather tried to keep him busy. Back then, he'd have taken a day at Griever's fountain with his dad over just about anything.

 

--

 

“Dad,” Lore exclaimed excitedly, zoning in on his father's location after haphazardly dropping his coat and bag at the entrance.

 

Though Squall had only been gone for a couple days, it was always nice to be greeted so warmly. He felt an odd sense of sadness as his son embraced him, far from the small boy that ran to him with sleep disheveled pajamas. “How were midterms?” he questioned, knowing that had been the youth's most problematic issue for the past two weeks.

 

Groaning, Lore protested, “Let me forget.”

 

Ruffling dark hair, Squall agreed, “Okay.” Pulling away, he gestured across the room where Irvine leaned casually against the countertop. “Your uncle's here,” he informed, knowing the boy had completely overlooked the gunman.

 

“Hey,” Lore greeted, walking over to the man. “Were you on assignment with Dad?”

 

Irvine gave a mock pout at the less enthusiastic welcome. Yanking his nephew in for a hug when the boy came close enough, he declared, “Tyler says he's too old for cuddling with his papa. I'm so lonely.”

 

“Get off,” Lore said, laughing good naturedly when the gunman persisted in fooling around. “Cuddle with your wife,” he suggested, jabbing the man lightly in the gut to escape.

 

“Did you have practice?” Squall questioned, sitting back down at the round table. He'd been absently typing a rough draft of his report on the mission while listening to Irvine berate him for being receptive to Seifer's advances. He'd had his earful for the entirety of the mission in Timber, and he suspected the gunman had followed him home to make certain he didn't see the ex-knight. He had decided to forget all about it, having already rejected the pushy blond clearly.

 

Growing solemn abruptly, Lore cast a cautious gaze toward his father before saying, “Seifer came to see me.”

 

Stormy blue eyes widened. Fingers frozen, posed above the keys, Squall felt his heart beating in his throat. “Came to see you?” he questioned in a quiet voice, apprehensive about what the ex-knight was scheming. He'd kill the arrogant man if Lore were dragged into it as collateral.

 

“Yeah,” Lore began, detecting that it was a sensitive issue. “He just wanted to talk. We ended up at that training center of his.”

 

Squall shared an uncertain gaze with Irvine. Shaking his head subtly, he directed the gunman to leave the matter alone. Despite what his better sense was telling him, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the ex-knight had simply been too stubborn to admit wanting to know his son a bit more. Whatever the blond was after, it seemed too low for the man's standards to use Lore as a tool.

 

“Dad…” Lore began, feeling rather hypocritical after everything he'd said and done since learning the whole truth of his lineage. How he'd felt the night of his birthday was the same. He didn't need another father. He already had the only person he'd ever want in his life. Seifer Almasy meant nothing to him. “Today, it's not that I like him or anything.” Though it was true that the aggravating blond had been mildly less irritating that day, it didn't erase past transgressions.

 

Shaking his head, Squall swallowed his simmering parental pride. The only thing he needed to worry about was the ex-knight's motivations. He would have to make it crystal clear that using his son was a dangerous move in whatever game the man was playing. For some insane reason, he was still smitten with the idea that his former rival was progressively warming up to having a son. Though such a suspicion meandered into the realm of madness, so did the lust his body felt for the man.

 

“You don't need to shun him for any reason,” Squall spoke softly, ignoring the narrowed gaze of violet-blue eyes.

 

“Yeah,” Lore agreed hesitantly. “But…” It just didn't seem right. The first time he'd met Seifer Almasy, he'd despised the man so completely. There hadn't been a moment's rest of boiling rage in the man's presence, which made him feel immature and upset. Even if such emotions had cooled off, he wasn't entirely capable of handling the offhanded insults that the ex-knight slipped into casual conversation.

 

“First impressions aren't always accurate,” Squall reasoned, supplying the boy with an excuse. He could already tell that Lore was confused, which meant his son wasn't as seriously opposed to the ex-knight's presence as before. “If you think you want to know him better, that's fine so long as you don't expect anything in return.”

 

It was all Irvine could do to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. “Maybe he should get to know Cale as well,” he suggested with underlying annoyance.

 

Staring coolly at the gunman, Squall warned the man silently. “Cale's not his father,” he said evenly.

 

Jaw clenching, Irvine shot back, “Neither is that bastard.”

 

“What's going on?” Lore demanded, glancing back and forth between his father and uncle. “Did something happen?”

 

“…” Squall loathed lying to his son and resented the gunman for putting him in a situation that forced him to do so.

 

“No,” Irvine answered before the honest brunet had to lie. “I guess I'm just surprised you were hanging out with Seifer. I worry too.”

 

“It's not like we're friends or anything,” Lore declared defensively. “I don't really know. One second I was angry just looking at him and the next thing I knew, he was showing me how to use a quarterstaff.”

 

With a wry smile, Squall assured, “It's fine.” He knew very well that Seifer was capable of be just as much a good guy as a bad guy. The power hungry blond wasn't a natural born leader because he knew how to piss people off. When the ostentatious man wanted to, he could be very compelling and fetching.

 

Lore studied the youthful features of his father's face. “You don't look like it's fine,” he declared, concluding that something was going on.

 

Silence filled the room. Irvine gazed intently at Squall, not keen on the idea of bringing Lore into matters. “Is Cale coming for dinner?” he asked in a change of subject.

 

Struck by the blatant attempt to keep him out of the loop, Lore stared incredulously at his uncle. “Real smooth Uncle Irvine,” he muttered, stalking away and leaving the kitchen. He'd find out from his father later.

 

Closing his laptop, Squall leaned back in his seat and sighed. There was a line that needed to be drawn somewhere, but he didn't like the idea of shutting Lore out of his affairs.

 

Striding across the room, Irvine pulled a chair out from the table and sat near the brunet. “Now he's using Lore,” he whispered with alarm.

 

Staring resolutely at the tabletop, Squall said as impassively as he could, “Then I suppose I should just sleep with him and get it over with.”

 

Certain he'd heard wrong, Irvine cleared his throat before requesting, “Say that again.”

 

Shrugging, Squall gave a faint teasing smile to lead the gunman on. “It might be nice, just once.”

 

Taken aback, Irvine leaned closer and stared pleadingly into stormy blue eyes. “Hyne Squall, tell me you're joking.”

 

Eyes rolling, Squall replied, “I'm joking.”

 

Exhaling a long breath, Irvine dropped his head to the table. Groaning, he complained, “You're killing me.”

 

“Good,” Squall mumbled, standing up. Patting the man on the back briefly, he elaborated, “Maybe this will teach you that some things are best left alone.”

 

Lolling his head to the side, Irvine watched the lithe form disappear from the kitchen. He was seventy percent certain that Squall's feelings were derived from the force the ex-knight had used. He hadn't taken the discreet man as a sadist, but it wasn't entirely surprising after suppressing the physical need for gratification.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Irvine wondered if his wife was rubbing off on him. He wasn't usually so concerned with the affairs of other people. But, Squall was like a brother to him.

 

Concluding that he'd been harping at the wrong person, Irvine decided to pay the ex-knight a visit.

 

TBC…