Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Defining Love ( Chapter 23 )

Defining Love

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Squall strode alongside Cale, steps mannered to compensate for the professor's long limbed gait. On their way from Lexis café, he was uncertain how to spend the remainder of his day. It was Saturday, so there was no need to return home any time soon. Lore had soccer practice and had alluded to hanging out with friends afterward.

 

“Did you have plans or are you mine this evening?” Cale questioned, arm smoothly wrapping around narrow shoulders.

 

“I'm yours,” Squall answered evenly, considering for a moment that he hadn't planned anything beyond his act of confession. He realized that on an unconscious level, he hadn't expected his day to involve time with the professor. He'd presumed the man would break up with him after learning of his infidelity. Relationships crumbled under less straining circumstances, but perhaps he wasn't giving the infatuated man enough credit.

 

Clearing his throat, Cale composed himself and fought back the desire to pull the brunet close after hearing such easily misconstrued words. Squall spoke with such aloofness that there wasn't an ounce of romance, but it still resonated through him. He wondered if that made him desperate for some sort of confirmation that Squall was falling in love.

 

Suddenly struck by the odd sensation that he was being watched, Squall stirred in the professor's hold. Scanning the sidewalks and street, stormy blue eyes found nothing out of the ordinary among the moderately crowded area of apartment buildings and Soho shops. It wasn't exactly the sort of feeling he could mistake for something else, but whenever he was out in public he could generally expect to be recognized.

 

“What is it?” Cale questioned, searching around in a similar manner.

 

Finding nothing out of place on the familiar street, Squall wondered if he weren't trying to find reasons to concentrate on Seifer at the most inappropriate of moments. He didn't want to make something out of nothing, so he ignored the unsettling sensation. With a sigh and shake of his head, he dismissed it. “Nothing,” he mumbled, stepping closer to the tall man.

 

About to comment that it must have been something, Cale was silenced by the former commander's body pressing sweetly against his own. If Squall's expression weren't so impassive, he'd swear the man was doing it on purpose to placate his growing need for requital. Arm encompassing the brunet's shoulders again, he relished the moment for all its worth.

 

Perceiving that the younger man was moved by something, Squall glanced sidelong at the smiling islander. “What?” he asked with subdued curiosity.

 

Expression softening, Cale murmured, “I like holding you, that's all.”

 

Frowning briefly, Squall quickly dismissed the man's smiling contentment. Some people were happy over the simplest things. Lore and Laguna were like that at times.

 

“Where to?” Cale prompted, not entirely certain what to do to keep the brunet entertained enough to stay with him as long as possible. Esthar was large and busy enough to supply them with countless activities, but his quiet partner was not easily drawn into the normal forms of entertainment. It was Saturday and just about every square inch of the city's central districts would be bustling with crowds in an hour or so.

 

“…” Squall had the day off, which wasn't unusual since he suspected Cid considered him to be in retirement, leaving him free to do whatever he pleased. The sun hadn't set yet, so it was still a bit early for dinner. Laguna was staying the night, so Lore wouldn't be alone. Though, in many ways it was more worrisome to have Laguna in charge.

 

“Do you want to go to my place?”

 

Nodding in acquiescence, Squall cast a final glance over his shoulder. Seifer hated losing, which left him diffident about the determined man's next move. The self-conscious feeling that he was being watched persisted, but he saw no tall ex-knight around.

 

--

 

Seifer welcomed the evening sun as its rays poured in from the west, a good three hours left before it would hit the flat horizon. With the first several buttons of his white dress shirt undone and the cuffs of his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the defined curve of his collar and muscular forearms were the only part of his richly tanned skin exposed to the warm light. He'd have been stripped down to a pair of shorts if he were out at sea, but his change in careers left him with nothing but wishful thinking. Not even his foreman could coerce the nail hammering laborers to follow his instructions if he walked around in a pair of shorts. So he stood onsite in a dress shirt and dark slacks, looking every bit the business man, but not so uptight as to wear a tie.

 

He found himself ensconced in a million different projects all at once. As contractor for the training center, it was his job to oversee just about everything. Despite his increasing desire to focus on his personal life, specifically hunting down an enticingly stubborn brunet, he simply couldn't shirk his responsibilities. Even he understood the poor message it would send if he went off gallivanting while his crew was pulling overtime on a Saturday.

 

Lucky for him, he was given a chance to have a little fun without going anywhere. Trouble came in the form of Leonhart's other guard dog. He assumed Kinneas would be out of commission for a while, licking some rather nasty wounds and recovering from a battered pride. The brat, who he couldn't very well call Leonhart since that was a title reserved for only one person, came to him in a fuming tizzy.

 

Almost gleeful at the prospect of jerking someone's emotions around, Seifer tore his attention away from jargon packed schematics and watched the approach of Leonhart's youngest groupie. Removing the bright yellow hardhat adorning his head, he ran his fingers through short strand of golden blond hair in an attempt to smooth them back.

 

Standing before a paper-strewn table with rocks scattered as makeshift paperweights, he watched the boy's approach. “Careful kid, you're making a pattern of showing up unannounced,” he jibed in greeting.

 

Mildly curious at the busy construction going on a short distance away, Lore reminded himself why he was there. Bringing his angry stalk to a halt before the random table that would have simply been in the middle of a vacant expanse if not for the giant structure looming in the background, he crossed his arms and stood firmly in place. Scoffing, he pointed out, “I suppose you phoned ahead to say you'd be outside my school, but the message just never went through.”

 

“Fair enough,” Seifer said with a mirthless chuckle. “It must be hereditary.”

 

Lore glared. “So, you like my dad,” he muttered with distain, making no effort to segue to the topic. Sizing the ex-knight up and down, he was embittered by the fact that if the man had been anyone other than a cocky bastard who liked his father, he'd think the guy was pretty cool, strictly based on appearances anyway. His ego was painfully aware of how much smaller his stature was in comparison. Growing taller than his father had been a milestone in his life and whether or not he cared to dwell on it, the height he'd been hoping to grow to would likely be a result of the ex-knight's genes.

 

For Seifer, the whole overprotective bodyguard act was growing tiresome. “You're beating a dead horse kid. I don't care how many times you tell me that I'm not wanted anywhere near your daddy. The one who makes those decisions isn't you or Kinneas.” While Leonhart had already made his rejection quite clear, he was still determined to seduce the almighty ice prince. The responsiveness he'd felt that day on his apartment floor had been all too real to be anything but suppressed desire. He couldn't trust the words that came out of the stubborn man's mouth, only how readily that firm body warmed to his touch.

 

Blue-green eyes narrowed in warning. “I figured you wouldn't give up so easily, but I didn't think you'd be in denial. My dad doesn't like you. He's already with someone else.” Lore couldn't believe he was actually using Cale as an excuse. Of all the countless ailments that he'd always believed his father to be immune to, he'd often feared some beautiful woman would steal his father's heart or some perverted man would simply steal his father. Whether or not he was being overprotective didn't matter, and judging from his uncle's clear disposition, he'd say this was one time it was acceptable to act on his own without consulting anyone first.

 

Phone ringing, Seifer glanced down at the small device hooked onto his belt. Taking a brief moment to assess a matter unrelated to the confrontation he was currently faced with, he was compelled to split his attention. “Hold on kid,” he muttered, deciding it was best he answer the call.

 

Lore glared balefully at the back of the ex-knight's head. Steadily losing steam, it was difficult to carry on in his fuming tirade when he stood idly waiting for the man to finish talking about coming in over budget.

 

“Get it done,” Seifer growled out before hanging up with an air of frustration. Standing with his back to the boy, he stood silently for a long moment. “Let's take a fieldtrip,” he muttered at length, not bothering to turn around.

 

Blinking in confusion, Lore wasn't sure if the blond were talking to him or not.

 

Frowning, Seifer glanced around and quirked a brow at the boy's lack of cooperation. Grabbing his discarded helmet, he tossed it to the young man and prompted, “Wear that.” Stalking away, he didn't bother to make sure his instructions were followed.

 

Clutching the hat to his chest, Lore jogged to catch up. Realizing his compliance with the ex-knight's demands, he scowled. Mentally throwing several insults, he strengthened his resolve to say everything he'd come there to say.

 

As Seifer neared the training center, which had finally taken shape, he cast a furtive glance towards the kid, his eyes drawn to dark hair. He should have known better than to assume Rinoa had been the mother. Then again, the actual circumstances were far less conceivable than Princess Heartilly going through the pains of childbirth. His curiosity was baffling. It wasn't difficult to look at the boy walking beside him and understand that it was his son, but there were unsettling feelings that he swore hadn't been there before. He couldn't understand why it wasn't such an easy notion to dismiss anymore.

 

“You're staring,” Lore said tersely, glaring at the man he walked beside.

 

Jaw clenching, Seifer didn't give any retort. “Keep up,” he instructed after an awkward pause. “And put that hat on.” Weaving a maze like path through the far from finished structure, he moved towards the center. Whether or not he was trying to show off his newest venture, there was an odd sensation that he wasn't motivated for the usual reasons.

 

Lore glanced around quickly, trying to memorize the way in. There was a good chance he'd be storming out after saying what he'd come to say and the last thing he needed was to ask for directions back to the parking lot. Feeling like he was the focus of attention, he looked at the blond, only to find the man wasn't staring at him like before. Frowning, he soon realized that scattered construction workers were looking his way. Blushing faintly, he felt uneasy. He was out of his element and wished he had remained outside. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he glanced upwards, glimpsing patches of blue sky that seemed miles away through the top of the skeleton of I-beams. Donning the yellow hat reluctantly, there was an odd comfort it brought.

 

“Unless you guys feel like staying all night, get back to work!” Seifer barked, voice bellowing through the spacious scaffolding that let sound travel unimpeded.

 

Eyes widening, Lore almost stopped in his tracks. Had the ex-knight yelled at them for his sake? Shaking his head, he answered his own question. Of course not, why would the man do something like that?

 

“Damn monkeys,” Seifer muttered to himself, annoyed that he couldn't bring in workers from Fisherman's Horizon because of Esthar's ridiculous employment regulations. There were regulations for everything and it was becoming quite cumbersome when he was used to making under the table deals and compensating employees for making that extra bit of effort that kept him on schedule and in business.

 

When cement flooring gave way to plywood panels, Lore realized they'd reached the center of the building. Shoes thudding as he walked down the ramp, he soon stood on packed dirt in the middle of what looked like the makings of an arena. Feeling out in the open, yet boxed in at the same time, he was gazing around curiously before he could stop himself. Though he doubted the high walls would be housing seats, he couldn't fathom what the finished structure would look like.

 

“I figure one of two things can happen,” Seifer began with an air of camaraderie that suggested he'd forgotten why the boy had come in the first place. “Either a whole bunch of SeeD wannabes will disrupt the status quo or the world gets a few more master gunbladists.”

 

Considering the ex-knight's words, Lore stopped himself abruptly. “The only thing I care about is that you stay away from my dad,” he bit out coldly, making a point of staring at the blond man and nowhere else.

 

Jade eyes narrowing, Seifer returned the boy's glare. “No,” he said evenly.

 

Bristling in anger, Lore opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off before he even began.

 

“Look,” Seifer started in as amicably as he could manage, not stupid enough to make an archenemy of Leonhart's favored son. “You're obviously not here to beat me up, because I could crush you with both hands tied behind my back.”

 

Lips forming a tight line, Lore didn't bother to defend his ability to fight when their skill levels were worlds apart.

 

“I've heard the whole speech about what happens if I hurt your precious daddy. Save it, `cause I don't give a flying fuck.” Leveling with the kid, he gave up on his hopes of winning the son over to get to the father. At this point, it was apparent he was the boy's number one enemy, which wasn't easily rectified. “I'll tell you what I told Kinneas. This isn't any of your business. This is between me and Squally-boy, no one else.”

 

“My dad's business is my business,” Lore corrected.

 

Shaking his head, Seifer strode several paces away and looked around calmly. He was surprised by his sudden lack of interest in teasing the boy. Making his case with little more than common sense, he glanced back at the angry puppy dog. “Everyone's business is their own. I know Leonhart has a soft spot for you, but it's also my understanding that you're his son, not his lover.”

 

Glancing away, Lore focused on keeping his face from turning red. Angry and embarrassed at the mere idea that his love for his father was anything other than that of a son, he needed a moment to collect himself.

 

Rolling his eyes, Seifer pointed out, “I'm not saying your in love with him.”

 

“I know that,” Lore hissed defensively, eyes flashing with malevolence.

 

“So stop acting like an angry lover,” Seifer returned, somewhat aware that he'd chanced upon an extremely sensitive issue with the boy. While he would kick himself later for not using the weakness for his own amusement, he instead found himself tempering his words so as not to set the kid off. “You and Kinneas come here like a pair of possessive lovers, bitching and whining and saying that some other man beat me to it. The only person other than Leonhart himself who has a right to tell me to back off would be the prick you guys made him go out with.”

 

“We didn't make him go out with anyone,” Lore refuted. Though he was now aware that his uncle had preceded him in confronting the ex-knight, he carried on with his own agenda nonetheless. “You just don't know when to give up.”

 

“Why would I give up? I've had positive results so far,” Seifer declared, only hinting at what he was certain the boy didn't know about.

 

“What's that mean?” Lore asked demandingly.

 

Grinning, Seifer said, “I don't kiss and tell kid. What happens between me and Leonhart stays between us, because it's none of your business.”

 

“I'm not acting like his lover, I'm acting like his son,” Lore stated with false confidence. “It's my business because he's my father.”

 

“You're building an argument on shaky ground. If you were tiny pipsqueak with abandonment issues, it would make sense that you reject anyone trying to catch your dad's attention. Unless you're wearing a diaper, I think you're a little too old to be pulling the whole needy brat act. I don't know what Kinneas' deal is, maybe he has feelings of his own, but you're different.”

 

Abashed, Lore felt his response die in his throat. He had nothing to say. Or rather he just couldn't force himself to speak. There was a sharp truth to the ex-knight's words that cut him deeply. He had spent the day brooding over how his father had actually closed up on him the other day. Being left in the dark as a big part of what fueled his anger towards the cocky blond, but he'd been so certain he was acting out of love and concern. Now he wasn't so sure and the tiniest bit of doubt left him speechless.

 

“Well don't get choked up about it,” Seifer muttered.

 

“It's because of you that he has secrets now,” Lore accused angrily, his underlying feelings of hurt welling up and spilling over the pretense he'd come there on.

 

Cringing, Seifer interjected, “Whoa there.” Hands held up, he silently pleaded that he didn't have to deal with teenage angst. Who was he to rain on Leonhart's parental parade?

 

“And it's not like I can ask what you did,” Lore went on to rant. “He doesn't want me to know, but he never keeps anything from me. He barely spoke to me that entire night and it's your fault.”

 

Snapping his fingers to draw the dark haired youth's attention, Seifer waited until mixed blue-green eyes were on him. “Does it look like I care?”

 

Gaze narrowing, Lore stared into striking green eyes for several long moments. “What is it you want from him?”

 

Smirking, Seifer teetered on the verge of admitting it was purely a physical desire to fuck the boy's father, but he held back. “None of your business,” he informed smoothly.

 

“It is my business,” Lore affirmed in a raised voice. “If it has to do with my dad, then I have a right to know.”

 

Sighing in exasperation, Seifer muttered, “Round and round we go.”

 

“I can wait all night,” Lore declared.

 

“Then it's going to be a long night, isn't it?” Seifer returned, crossing his arms and towering over the stubborn kid.

 

--

 

Panting, Squall caught his breath while Cale removed his layered shirts, which had suddenly become unnecessary articles of clothing. Quietly complacent in the exploits of physical pleasure, he gave no sign of drawing any lines that night.

 

Crimson eyes raked over the brunet's exposed torso hungrily. The most iron willed of men could drown in lust if given too much of what Squall had to offer. Cale wasn't as interested in the lithe fighter's body as he was in the man's heart, which helped control his sometimes unruly libido.

 

“Cale,” Squall called, drawing the professor's slightly dazed eyes to attention. “Am I spending the night?” While he didn't need to know a week ahead of time when sex between them would finally happen, he would like to at least know before it was a decision made by how aroused they were.

 

Gulping, Cale regarded the impassive brunet reverently. “The night,” he repeated dumbly. “As in…”

 

Nodding faintly, Squall waited patiently for the younger man to consider his implied offer. There were only so many times he was willing to make out without progressing the whole nine yards, but he wasn't about to reveal his inner impatience. Hardly celibate, it was easy enough to live without sex when no one incited his body's urges, but now that he had Cale, it was more difficult to ignore.

 

Hesitant, Cale felt uncertain of what to do. The idea of making love to Squall was highly appealing, but it was something he had hoped to do when they both felt the same way toward one another. Contemplating, he gazed longingly into stormy blue eyes. Presented with a tantalizing glimpse of what he could have, he felt his shoulders sag at the inevitable decision he reached. “Not yet,” he murmured, soothing his own dejection by reaching out and drawing the former commander close. “I'm sorry,” he apologized before capturing soft lips.

 

Suddenly feeling underdressed for an occasion that wouldn't involve sex, Squall distanced himself after drawing the kiss to an end. “Is something wrong?” he questioned, wondering if there were any particular reason that the islander were being so prudent or if he was the one being unreasonable.

 

Shaking his head, Cale rushed to explain, “It's not that I don't want to, but when we do it, I want you to love me.”

 

Studying the professor's deceptively roguish features, Squall concluded that he should remain patient. It seemed a crime to pressure someone so painstakingly heartfelt. In a platonic way, he was reminded of Laguna. He was hardly some horny teenage boy trying to lose his virginity because he had no control over his hormones. He was simply being realistic about the demands of an adult relationship. Perhaps they weren't truly his demands though. While none of his relationships could be considered normal, sex seemed like one of those constant factors no matter how unusual the pairing.

 

“Will you still stay the night?” Cale requested hopefully.

 

With a bare nod, Squall agreed. Reaching for the inside out garments recently removed, he was surprised when his hand was stayed. Looking into uniquely colored eyes, he questioned the professor's preference for him being half naked when they were not going to fool around.

 

Hardly hypocritical, Cale was simply respecting the seriousness and meaning in that final step of physical acceptance. Oral sex just one way he could think of to compensate for what would be missing until the day Squall came to love him. “Let me make you feel good,” he said, finding no resistance when he pushed the brunet back against the couch

 

--

 

It was almost one when Lore returned home. Somberly, he shirked out of his coat and lazily slipped his sneakers off. He felt drained both emotionally and physically.

 

“Where were you?” Laguna questioned lightly, seated on the couch in the open flat of the apartment.

 

Sighing, Lore rounded the couch and collapsed next to his grandfather. “It's a long story,” he muttered. He was ready to fall asleep.

 

Having spent the day at his son's apartment alone, Laguna wasn't in the best of moods. The reason his liked to visit on weekends was because everyone was home. “I called your dad to let him know you'd be out late. You should call him again to let him know you're back,” the older man informed.

 

Eyes opening, Lore raised his head from the back of the couch. “Dad's not here?”

 

“He's gone for the night,” Laguna said.

 

Confused, Lore questioned, “Where?”

 

Lips turning upward, Laguna answered, “He's staying over at Cale's.”

 

“What?” Lore practically cried. “He can't…” he trailed off, unable to be outraged without being a hypocrite.

 

Frowning, Laguna perceived that something was ailing his grandson. “What's wrong?” he questioned, always willing to help when he could.

 

Scratching at short strands of raven hair, Lore sat forward and hung his head in frustration. “Grandpa, is it wrong that I want to protect Dad?”

 

Hazel green eyes studied youthful features. “No, it's natural,” he replied. “Why? Did something happen to Squall?”

 

Shaking his head, Lore wasn't certain if anything had happened or not, because he hadn't been informed. “I don't know. I think Seifer did something, but now I'm more worried about Dad staying over at Cale's.”

 

“Call him,” Laguna suggested, not certain how Seifer Almasy played into Lore's worries about Squall. “I can't make you worry less, but I can assure you that your dad is tough as nails.” With his grandson home safe and sound, he flipped the television, no longer needing the noise to keep him awake.

 

Nodding absently, Lore attempted to use his cell phone without actually thinking about where he'd put it. He'd last used it to call home, telling his grandfather that he'd be late. He hadn't thought much of his father's absence at the time, knowing he was out with Cale. He had been quite certain he could speak with his father upon returning home, but he was sadly disappointed and felt as though his churning emotions wouldn't rest until he was able to see his dad again.

 

Debating whether or not to call his father, Lore stood up from the couch. He feared that if he heard the quiet man's soft voice, he'd be compelled to drive over to Cale's apartment. He was sixteen and felt as though he couldn't go a night without being tucked into bed. Feeling immature, he brooded with indecision.

 

“Hmm,” Laguna hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you shouldn't call him,” he murmured, hand at his chin.

 

Stirring from his thoughts, Lore glanced at his grandfather with a questioning expression. “Why not?” he inquired.

 

Bristling uncomfortably, Laguna stumbled over explaining what he thought the boy had thought of in the first place. Having mistaken the youth's hesitant pacing, he was now stuck with having to say something embarrassing. “He might be a little busy,” he said as quickly as possible.

 

“He what?” Lore questioned, not catching the older man's rushed words.

 

Taking a deep breath, Laguna cursed his innate modesty for such matters. “If he's with Cale,” he rephrased more slowly, “then he might be busy.”

 

Staring for an uncomprehending moment, Lore's decision was made on its own. “I'm calling him,” he announced, entirely willing to interrupt whatever the enamored professor was doing to his father.

 

--

 

“I love you too,” Squall murmured. Draped over the edge of the bed, he gave a heavy sigh as he flipped his cell phone shut. Tossing the phone onto his crumpled pants where he had fished it out after hearing it vibrate, he rolled back onto the bed.

 

“Lore?” Cale questioned quietly, arms reaching out to draw the brunet back to himself.

 

Stifling a yawn, Squall nodded. “I was expecting him to show up,” he admitted, knowing his sleepover was likely to cause a few ripples in the water. Mildly concerned that it was after one in the morning when his son had returned home, he knew it wasn't an issue that needed to be addressed. With an understood curfew of midnight, it wasn't exactly a clearly stated rule. It was also Saturday and of all the nights for his studious son to break curfew, Saturday was best.

 

“It's kind of late, isn't it?” Cale commented, shifting around to become settled once again. He was ridiculously happy at the moment, but managed to not grin like a fool. Waking up to the rustling of the covers and absence of warmth was a pleasant experience when he quickly realized that he hadn't simply dreamed sleeping with Squall.

 

“Nnh,” Squall mumbled incoherently, half asleep again. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep with someone else in the bed. Perhaps it was from years of training with Lore. There was an awkward difference between holding a comfort seeking child and being the one held, but the rest seemed to follow just the same.

 

While Cale understood that the lithe fighter simply wanted to go back to sleep, he was more content to bide his time. He let his fingers brush through soft strands of dark brown hair. Quietly, he drifted.

 

Ten minutes later, when Cale was nodding off and Squall was already asleep, loud knocking on the apartment door cut through the peaceful silence. Awake instantly, Squall chose to remain still and scowl in response.

 

“Let me guess,” Cale murmured wryly, wanting to laugh it off but finding he was sorely disappointed. He was surprised he'd had the former commander to himself for as long as he did. He supposed it would be pressing his luck to go all night without Lore taking the man away.

 

Frowning deeper after his sleep heavy mind cleared, Squall concluded that his son wouldn't have driven all the way there. While he doubted Lore was thrilled that he was spending the night at Cale's, the youth had giving a reluctant blessing. “I'll answer it,” he muttered, thinking it might have been his son after all.

 

Blindly pulling his pants on, Squall felt around for his shirts. Considering he'd worn two shirts, he was surprised he couldn't at least find one of them.

 

The sharp knocking persisted, the caller demanding to be let in.

 

Frowning again, Squall felt quite certain it wasn't Lore. He'd thought briefly that the odd tone of voice the young man had had over the phone might have meant something was bothering the boy, but he doubted that would have been a reason for such a late night visit. Not bothering to perform the hunt for missing clothes, he quietly walked out of the professor's bedroom and carefully navigated his way to the door. Turning the lights on, he shied from the brightness, but forced his eyes to adjust.

 

Before Squall opened the door, he was overcome with apprehension. What if it were Seifer? Running a hand through mussed hair, he reminded himself that Cale already knew about what had happened.

 

Opening the door with the push of a button, he found himself staring into dark brown eyes.

 

“Who the hell are you?” a young man with a somewhat rounded face questioned with a note of anger.

 

Squall was less surprised by the rude greeting and more surprised that he'd found someone who appeared more feminine than himself. It was a nice feeling, to know he wasn't the only man lacking that extra bit of testosterone. Before answering the rude question, he studied the younger man's face out of habit, memorizing every line in case ten years passed and he needed to pick the person out of a crowd. The man, who couldn't have been older than twenty, had spiky brown hair and thin lips currently pursed in annoyance. With a small frame encased in slim jeans and a t-shirt one size too small, he felt as though he was seeing what his body would have looked like if he hadn't trained most of his life to be a mercenary. Not fat, just thin with little muscle definition.

 

Realizing it was someone Cale must know, Squall decided he'd best let the professor deal with it. “Hold on,” he muttered, turning and spotting the white haired islander shrugging into a t-shirt while exiting the bedroom.

 

“Professor Bernhein!” the young man greeted jovially, rushing in past the half naked man who'd opened the door.

 

Glancing around as though unable to determine which way the sound had come from, Cale quickly spotted his student. He wasn't sure if his confusion was because he was half asleep or because there was no logical reason for Luca to be in his apartment at one in the morning.

 

“Luca,” Cale began dubiously.

 

“I know,” the young man interjected. “It's late, I shouldn't be here, but I had to come.”

 

Squall spotted the rest of his clothes on the couch, recalling the instance he'd first taken his top off. Quietly, he retrieved them, not wanting to intrude. As he finished dressing himself, he was somewhat aware of the eyes boring into his back. Casting an indifferent gaze over his shoulder, he found himself the target of disdainful dark brown eyes.

 

“I see you have company,” the young man commented with underlying contempt.

 

“Luca,” Cale said again in exasperation. “Luca, this is Squall Leonhart.”

 

Eyes widening, Luca stared in shock. Looking the lithe brunet up and down, recognition slowly dawned.

 

“Squall,” Cale continued with the introductions, “this is Luca Miner, a student of mine.”

 

As if forced to make nice, Luca grudgingly muttered, “How do you do.”

 

Hardly the type of person to even pretend to make nice, Squall gave a bare nod of his head in greeting. It was obvious the young man wasn't ecstatic that he was there. He could deal with rudeness easily enough, but he became agitated when people suddenly tried showing a friendlier side upon recognizing his face or name. Hidden faces meant hidden motives, and it was too late for him to be dealing with any of that.

 

“I'm sorry,” Cale apologized, realizing his work had suddenly crossed into his personal life and that Squall was probably bothered by it.

 

“…” Squall didn't care. He was debating whether or not to simply go back to bed.

 

“I didn't know you were involved with anyone,” Luca stated, glancing back and forth between the two older men.

 

Running a hand through silver-white hair, Cale attempted to fix the messy strands. “I make a point of sticking to the topic in class,” he said, politely informing the young man that his personal life was not his students' business.

 

“I'll leave you,” Squall said evenly, walking toward the bedroom.

 

Hand gently grabbing the lithe fighter's shoulder, Cale sought to keep Squall with him the rest of night as planned. “Wait, please stay,” he requested.

 

“I am,” Squall pointed out.

 

“Oh,” Cale sounded in understanding. With a sheepish smile, he assured, “I won't take long.”

 

As Squall left the room, the voices of Cale and Luca followed him. With no actual bedroom door, he couldn't be blamed for overhearing every word. Keeping his clothes on, he slipped back into bed and tried to occupy his mind.

 

“Is it serious?” Luca's unsettled voice questioned, effectively breaking Squall's attempt to tune the conversation out.

 

“You know I can't get into that with you,” Cale placated, all too aware that his student was fixated on his homosexuality. The boy was an economics major who had stumbled into his class for the sake of fulfilling a requirement, and within the first week his class had become a favorite of the boy's for reasons he suspected had very little to do with how it was taught and the material covered.

 

“I came because I was freaking out about my paper,” Luca redirected. “I know it's late and inappropriate, but if I don't average an A, I'll drop below a three for my GPA.”

 

“You seem like an A student,” Cale commented, surprised the dark eyed brunet didn't have As in every class.

 

“Just in your class.”

 

Cale sighed. There was a long bout of silence until Squall heard the rummaging of papers. “I'm not sure I graded your paper yet,” the professor admitted, continuing to search.

 

“It was on the lasting effects of Adel's tyranny in today's society,” Luca offered in reminder.

 

“Hmm, I did get to that,” Cale said. “It was good, but a bit too argumentative.”

 

“I was just being poignant.”

 

“Poignant is fine, but remember to make your point without shifting focus to why another opinion is wrong. It's not a debate.” There was another long pause. “Here,” Cale said, desk drawer closing with a dull thud. “I gave it an even A.”

 

“Thank you.” There was an odd pattern of rushed footsteps. “Thank you so much.”

 

“Luca, please,” Cale said sternly.

 

Rolling his eyes, Squall turned over in bed, able to place each sound with the movement itself. He didn't need to see what was happening to know the young man was a good foot of the ground, dangling from Cale's neck.

 

“It's late, I'll leave.”

 

“That would be best,” Cale affirmed.

 

“I'll see you Monday then.”

 

Squall waited for several more minutes before the lights were turned off and the tall professor joined him again. Not entirely enthused at the disturbance, he figured being overzealous and having a crush was just a bad combination.

 

“Sorry,” Cale whispered, slowly climbing into bed with the alluring brunet.

 

“It's not your fault,” Squall pointed out, accepting the man's lips as they sought his own.

 

“A lot of students get like this towards the end of the semester, especially seniors,” the professor explained, sighing as he settled in once more.

 

Resenting that the islander would think he was oblivious, Squall stated, “I'm not blind Cale.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean you don't need to make excuses for anyone.”

 

Frowning, Cale sat up. “I wasn't making excuses.”

 

“He didn't come here for the paper,” Squall muttered.

 

Silent for a long moment, Cale eventually admitted, “I know, but I didn't want to say anything.”

 

Staring up, Squall could barely manage to make out the crimson color of the islander's eyes in the dark room. “I'm not jealous. Don't spare me anything.”

 

Expression softening, Cale was relieved that his unreadable lover hadn't been put on the spot. “Not even a little?” he said jokingly.

 

“Goodnight,” Squall said, turning over.

 

Cale sank back down. Arm reaching out and wrapping around the brunet's waist, he sidled close to the man's warm back. “I love you,” he whispered, gently tightening his hold to impress his sincerity.

 

Squall didn't reply.

 

TBC…

 

Author's Note: OMG >_< Again, such a late update. I'm hating this semester. I didn't have a thing written until this week, which was spring break for me. Sorry you guys, I know waiting is a pain. Thank you all for the awesome reviews and sticking with me, it means a lot! Okay, regarding this chapter, I know there's a lot of Cale/Squall time going on, but trust me when I say I do my best to only write necessary scenes. I often find myself going on tangents that will end up dragging the story and do little to develop the plot, but despite appearances every little bit counts for something in this chapter. Whether you love Cale or hate him, he's essential. And since the final pairing is set in stone and you all know who Squall ends up with, I know every die hard Seifer fan out there will forgive me in the end. Thank you guys again, I really hope this chapter was worth the wait.