Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Defining Love ( Chapter 46 )

Defining Love

Chapter Forty-Six

 

 

With feelings of shame and injured pride, Squall dreaded the possibilities that lurked somewhere inside his body. The tainted sorceress' spell was like a parasite that had crawled in and hibernated for over a decade. His concern for himself did not match his worry for how the situation would affect those around him.

 

Years ago, he hadn't even been aware of what Ultimecia had done to him until after his escape from the desert prison. Looking back, he had probably felt less violated by the act than his friends had. So much of that time was a blur. He remembered feeling disbelief and anger, but he hadn't had the luxury of holding onto those emotions, not when his attentions had been needed elsewhere. There were only interspersed moments between his grinding efforts as Commander, when he had the time to worry what his life would come to if he had a child.

 

Rinoa and Ellone were arriving later that day. Despite his best efforts to gloss over details, his friends would always assume the worst possible scenario. For that matter, so would his son when he finally told the boy, which he had conveniently neglected to do yesterday. It wasn't an easy thing to explain. He didn't want to frame matters in the wrong words. The extra day of thinking still hadn't given him any ideas on how to tactfully approach the subject.

 

As he prepared to leave Seifer's apartment, Squall felt the heavy weight of his responsibility. He was responsible for Lore, but he was also responsible to Lore. He couldn't protect the boy from the truth, which meant he needed to break the news as gently as possible. He also had to do it as soon as possible, because he was going to see Dr. Odine tomorrow.

 

If there was a silver lining, then it was Seifer. Squall was relieved to have Seifer's support, more than relieved if he cared to analyze the extent of his feelings, but that didn't solve his problem.

 

In the middle of trying to leave, he sighed inwardly as strong hands gripped his waist. Seifer didn't want him to go, not yet. He felt it in the way those hands squeezed his hips.

 

Seifer wore an uncharacteristically somber expression, but his intent was clear as he drew Leonhart closer.

 

The kiss was slow and soft. Squall's thoughts scattered. His motivation for leaving fell to the wayside. Restraint buckling, he was moments away from arching into Seifer's firm body and deepening their kiss.

 

Seifer gently nipped Leonhart's soft lower lip. He coaxed rather than demanded. It was heaven when he slid his tongue inside, tasting wet warmth.

 

For a heady moment, they teetered on the edge. Caught in each other's arms, neither of them quite ready to break away. It had become their morning ritual. Seifer hated mornings, because no matter how long he managed to drag out their parting kiss, it always ended.

 

It was Seifer's competitive nature that broke through his daze. If only to prove that he had more control than his rival, he forced himself away. In a decisive move, he steered Leonhart to the door and gave the man's pert ass a sound slap. At the icy glare from stormy blue eyes, he grinned. “I love it when you give me those nasty looks.”

 

Squall's scowl hardened. He ignored the flutter in his chest and the aching need to have Seifer's lips on him again.

 

Seifer debated for a moment. He had decided to say nothing unless Leonhart confronted him, but in light of what he had just learned about the spell, he felt compelled to lay all the cards on the table. “Did the kid talk to you yet?”

 

Squall inclined a single brow. “About?” He almost corrected Seifer for referring to Lore as “the kid”, but there was a familiarity in the way he said it now. If Squall didn't know better, he would have thought Seifer said “the kid” with fondness.

 

“Training.”

 

Squall shook his head. “Lore mentioned you ran the basics with him.”

 

Running his fingers through sleek blond hair, Seifer said, “Well, he'll have something to say when you see him.” Part of him wanted to break the news just to spite the kid for not broaching the subject already. When he imagined Leonhart's icy wrath, he decided he would rather let the kid be the first one on the receiving end of it. Unwilling to admit that Leonhart could be intimidating, he told himself he was simply trying to be civil and let the kid bide more time.

 

Suspicious, Squall studied Seifer. There was a lot Lore would have to say when he returned home. “I haven't told him about the spell.” The words just came out, and with them Squall's most pressing concern. He was afraid of how Lore would react to the news of the para-magic.

 

“You told me first?” Seifer was able to suppress his disbelief, but not his enthusiasm. Reaching out, he grabbed the brunet and crushed him to his chest. “You had all day to tell the kid, but you told me first.” In his smug euphoria, he managed to forget that Leonhart had never intended to tell him anything in the first place, and that the details had been hard won by patience and persistence.

 

“It's different with you,” Squall mumbled. He could live without a lover. Sex wasn't essential, even when it was as passionate and satisfying as it was with Seifer. He would be fine without Seifer, at least he had thought so until that morning, until the cold dread of losing something vital told him not to screw things up. He had been afraid that the spell would turn Seifer away from him. His son was the one person he couldn't live without, whom he could not bear to hurt and disappoint. However, his fears earlier that morning told him that the ex-knight was more essential in his life than he cared to admit.

 

The desire for physical contact was something Squall considered a weakness. He found strength in isolating himself from others. Now, he sought Seifer's touch unconsciously. He wanted to burrow deeper into the man's arms, which was currently a physical impossibility since he was already pressed so close. He settled for burrowing his head against the crook of Seifer's neck.

 

As Squall inhaled the clean scent of spicy aftershave and something else that was altogether Seifer, he came to a startling realization. Seifer wasn't someone he could dismiss from his life. It hadn't been different telling Seifer about the spell than it would be when he told Lore. He had been so afraid of losing something that he didn't even fully understand.

 

“I like it when you're clingy,” Seifer declared. Immediately, the hands that gripped the back of his shirt let go. Leonhart pushed against him and he loosened his hold. When stormy-blue eyes glared at the offense of being called clingy, he laughed. “Another nasty look. Scathing really.” Reaching out, he nudged a delicate chin higher. Leaning in, he kissed pout lips that were set in a firm, disapproving line. “You're spoiling me,” he said against unyielding lips.

 

Suppressing his mild agitation, Squall let Seifer seduce him into another kiss. A number of remarks came to mind, but he was too interested in the way Seifer's tongue explored his mouth to bother voicing them.

 

---

 

When Squall arrived home, he found Lore and Laguna on the living couch. The TV was on, playing a soccer game, but the volume was muted. They were both hunched forward on the edge of their cushions, poring over work spread out on the coffee table. Lore was studying for a final in math and the president was reviewing a speech he was scheduled to give the following morning.

 

Squall didn't greet the pair right away. The sound of the hydraulic door was audible, but had not broken their stiff concentration. Passing behind the couch, Squall gently ruffled his son's hair. Lore ducked his head in surprise and whipped around to beam his father an excited grin. “You're back,” he said, jumping over the back of the couch.

 

Laguna turned to face Squall. “Good, a distraction.”

 

Squall gave the president a stern scowl that told the man not to use him as an excuse to neglect work.

 

For a shifty eyed moment, Lore debated how to approach his father on the subject of his decision to become SeeD. He had brooded over the matter all morning. He didn't care that his father had just walked in the door. He couldn't spend another minute with his nerves knotted up so tightly.

 

“We need to talk,” Squall said, surprising the other two.

 

Lore flinched. He had hoped Seifer wouldn't spill the beans. Apparently, he had credited the man with too much consideration.

”What's wrong?” Laguna said. Though Squall's tone was untelling, the man never needed to talk unless it was serious. Ignoring that Squall had only referred to Lore, he stood and inserted himself into the discussion.

 

“Did Seifer tell you?” Lore asked, hanging his head.

 

“Tell me what?” With some annoyance, Squall wished he had pressed Seifer more on the topic. He had been too preoccupied with his own news. It seemed they both had confessions to make.

 

Head snapping up, Lore exclaimed, “Shit, he didn't.” At his father's expectant headshake, he said, “It doesn't matter. I'm saying it now anyway.” Pausing to take a deep breath, he shared a quick glance with his grandfather. “I want to enlist.”

 

The statement hung in the air, slowly seeping into Squall's brain. All thoughts of Ultimecia's spell vanished. Images of his son in uniform filled his head.

 

Lore saw his father's eyes dim. He hastened to amend his statement. “Not for a couple years. I'd wait until I graduated. I could train until then, so that I'm ready for it.”

 

Squall was proud to be a fighter. He wasn't just a mercenary for hire. He protected people who couldn't protect themselves, even if they didn't have money. It was honorable. Lore wanted that honor, but the danger involved was simply unacceptable.

 

“No,” Squall heard himself say. Detached from the moment, his mind was busy envisioning his baby boy in horrible situations. They were real situations, ones that he had personally faced. There were too many narrow scrapes to count. Strong fighters died just as easily as weak ones. It didn't matter if Lore had the potential to be a great swordsman. A single stroke of bad luck, like an unexpected encounter with a T-Rex, could end it all.

 

As his mind swam back to the present, Squall read the hurt and disappointment in Lore's eyes. What had happened to college and playing soccer? When had his son's dreams changed?

 

“You need time to think,” Laguna said. Squall and Lore regarded the older man. He had spoken in his firm presidential voice, his words more of an order than a suggestion.

 

Latching on to Laguna's advice, Squall nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. He knew he wasn't thinking straight. He needed time to process. With his pace and focus thrown, he clumsily broke his own bit of news. “I'm seeing Dr. Odine tomorrow.”

 

“Again?” Laguna intoned with worry. “Is that routine?”

 

Grasping at words, Squall's focus diverged as he kept thinking of the dangers his son would face as a fighter. “He found para-magic.”

 

“Where?” Laguna asked. He was confused as to how Dr. Odine finding para magic involved his son. Did the magic indicate the rise of another sorceress? He waited with bated breath, fearing the worst. Was there another sorceress? Would there be war? Would his duty bound son have to put his life on the line again?

 

Making an effort, Squall focused on the trouble at hand. Remembering that this was going to upset Lore, he regarded the boy steadily. “He found it in me.”

 

Moments passed before Lore reacted. His blue-green eyes flickered over his father's face. He stared at the man's lips, as if trying to read what they were saying even though there was no sound to indicate his father was still speaking. “The spell?” he mumbled disjointedly.

 

Squall nodded while watching his son carefully.

 

Lore's eyes fell to his father's lips again and then back up to meet stormy blue eyes. He didn't know where to look for answers. “The same spell as mine? The one from before?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Lore felt something break inside him. Faced with his worst nightmare, he felt the room tilt. He thought he might have fainted. When his sight cleared, he realized that he was still standing upright, though his legs felt brittle, like they might break if he tried to walk. His eyes dropped to his father's stomach. Acid rose to the back of his throat. It was either the hot lump that came with suppressed tears or it was bile. He suspected bile because he felt like he might vomit.

 

Unaware that he was sneering, Lore continued to stare at his father's midriff. His fingers curled with the urge to claw at the scar on his father's abdomen. That's where the spell was. He wanted to gouge pale flesh and tear the spell out. But it would be useless. Magic didn't work like that. He could rip and tear, but would never encounter the invisible force inside tender flesh.

 

An overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over Lore. Sixteen years ago, he had been powerless to stop the spell. As an infant there had been nothing he could have done, but he was older now. He should know what to do, but he didn't. He was sixteen and already bigger than his father, yet somehow just as helpless as a newborn. How could he still be utterly powerless to help? No matter how much he wanted that spell gone, he knew nothing of magic. Only a sorceress could control para-magic.

 

Lore didn't notice that his breathing came in short, panting gasps. He didn't feel the hot tears well in his eyes. All he felt were the arms suddenly around his shoulders and the gentle fingers brushing against the nape of his neck.

 

“I'm fine,” Squall said. He was an idiot for being too blunt. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't,” Lore said. Burying his head against his father's shoulder, he choked back a sob. And he was like a baby again, helpless and crying in his father's arms. The spell was a death sentence.

 

“Don't,” Lore repeated.

 

At first Squall didn't understand what Lore meant, but a horrifying instant later, he realized that Lore was begging him not to die. Ice filled his veins. All the warmth in his body drained away at the sound of his son's voice. It was a child's voice. “Don't go, Daddy,” was what Lore used to say to him before he left on a mission. When Lore was older, the plead had become, “Don't get hurt.”

 

Lore's hold nearly lifted Squall off the floor. “I'm not going anywhere,” Squall said. He winced when Lore clutched him too tight. He rolled a shoulder to indicate the boy should ease up, but the gesture had the opposite effect. Bearing the discomfort, he tried to think of what to say to convince his son of the best possible outcome. He hadn't considered the possibility of Rinoa's failure. She had helped before. She had brought him back.

 

Sighing into his son's hair, Squall said, “I promise it'll be okay.” Looking over to the couch, he found Laguna hunched over with his back turned. Graying raven hair cascaded forward to hide the man's face. He thought Laguna might be crying. “Dad,” he called, the foreign word rolling off his tongue before he could think twice.

 

Slowly, Laguna raised his head. He thought his ears were playing tricks. It wasn't until he turned and met concerned grey-blue eyes that he realized he had heard correctly. His son had called him “Dad.” His heart clinched tight. People became sentimental when they were dying. Laguna knew that Squall would never fall apart into sentimentality, but the moment was still tainted.

 

--

 

Rinoa, Ellone, and Squall sat around a small round table in the center of the sitting room. It was one of many guest quarters in the presidential palace. The room had a cream rug, warm accents of red and gold, long drapes on ceiling high windows, and plush armchairs near a fireplace on the other end of the room. Laguna had convinced Lore to leave Squall's side, but only as far as the adjoining room where the boy continued to study for his upcoming math final.

 

Lore had scoffed at the notion of finals. Now that the boy was clearly distracted from schoolwork, Squall questioned the wisdom of telling Lore about the spell.

 

Rinoa and Ellone were regaling Squall on the latest incident at Centra's orphanage. Squall was only half-listening, which was acceptable to the two women. As he shuffled through a stack of files next to his laptop, he gleaned enough from their story to know that one of the children had replaced another child's shampoo with watered down zombie powder.

 

A servant bustled into the opulent room, pushing a serving cart. Ellone stood and began to help, which only made the servant flustered.

 

Squall didn't bother looking up from his laptop. He had spent enough time in the presidential palace to understand that the servants didn't like to be acknowledged. Their job hinged on moving around silently and making themselves as invisible as possible. Thanking them for every little task meant that their presence had been a disturbance.

 

As Ellone set out the sugar and cream, she remained oblivious to how her actions confused the young servant woman.

 

“Ellone,” Squall murmured, eyes still glued to the computer screen. “Let her do her job.”

 

Taking offense, Ellone turned on Squall and put her hands to her hips. Wearing a satiny cream color blouse and a billowy yellow skirt, she squared her slender frame. Even if her youthful features were gentle, children were on their best behavior when her hands flew to her hips. “Since when have you been so accustomed to being waited on hand and foot? Don't tell me it's finally gone to your head.”

 

Already lost in his work again, Squall didn't hear Ellone's comment. The success of his mission on the island meant that plans for the new garden were moving forward. The deadline for his report was had been pushed forward because of Cid's eagerness. At the moment, he wasn't certain how to explain what had happened with Diablos and the T-Rex. He had Dannis' statement that filled in the blanks for the time he had been unconscious, but he would need the young man's official report on the matter before he could finish his own.

 

“Are you listening?”

 

Blinking, Squall glanced up and found Ellone's scrutinizing face inches from his own.

 

Satisfied she had her brother's attention, Ellone sat down again. “Are you going to explain what's going on?”

 

“…”

 

Seated to Squall's right, Rinoa inhaled the steam from her cup of tea. “Chamomile,” she said on a sigh. “Hyne, I need this.”

 

Ellone nodded her sympathies to Rinoa before returning her focus to Squall. The time for small talk was over. “All you've told us is that the spell was back and you need Rinoa to get rid of it.”

 

Though Squall had stopped typing in order to join the conversation, he wasn't going to restate the obvious.

 

“Tell us more,” Rinoa encouraged. “I'm all nerves right now. What does Dr. Odine say?”

 

“And,” Ellone began with a shared look of reluctance with Rinoa, “what happens if Rinoa can't undo the spell? Is your life in danger?”

 

“I don't know,” Squall said. There were more unknown factors than known ones. He wasn't pregnant, not yet anyway.

 

“How did it happen?” Rinoa ventured.

 

A frown creased the scar between Squall's eyebrows. “I don't know.” It wasn't exactly a lie. He didn't like to speculate, but speculations and half-cocked theories were all he had.

 

Ellone set her cup down with a clatter, exasperated by her brother's reticence. “When is Irvine getting here?”

 

Squall checked his watch. “Soon,” he said. It was three o'clock and Irvine was due to arrive any minute.

 

“You seem okay,” Ellone said, her light brown eyes scanning her brother's pale face.

 

“I am,” Squall said.

 

“No, you're not,” Rinoa refuted. “Not if that spell is still in you. The calmer you act about this, the more I think you're hiding how you really feel.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“Don't give me that,” Rinoa snapped. Wringing her hands in her lap, her doe eyes glistened with tears. “I'm a nervous wreck. The least you can do is acknowledge how serious this is.”

 

Squall's eyes became piercing. “Lore is worried enough,” he said, his voice tight and controlled.

 

Rebuked, Rinoa bowed her head. “Sorry, I didn't think about that.” She wanted to shake Squall and tell him to stop being such a self-sacrificing hero all the time. But he did it for their sake, and they loved him for it. In situations where everyone panicked, Squall calmly formulated a plan. He was the commander who never cracked under pressure.

 

“Has it always been there?” Ellone asked. “Did something change? Was there a reason you had Dr. Odine examine you?”

 

Squall knew he had to tell Ellone and Rinoa about Seifer. Even if the ex-knight weren't the reason for the spell's return, Seifer had every intention of accompanying him to see Odine tomorrow.

 

“Oh Hyne, what is it?” Hand to her chest, Rinoa was ready to fly into full panic mode. “You have that look. It's bad, isn't it? You didn't want to tell us over the phone.”

 

“No,” Squall asserted. Closing his laptop, he shifted in his seat to face Rinoa. Ellone leaned in closer from his other side. “There's something you should know,” he began, watching as Rinoa absorbed each word, “so that you're not confused when he shows up.”

 

“When who shows up?”

 

“Seifer.”

 

Ellone voiced what Rinoa's expression seemed to ask. “Why would Seifer come here?”

 

Sensing that a pincer attack was eminent, Squall slid his chair back from the table and stood. “I'm seeing Seifer,” he said, forcing himself to speak louder than a hushed whisper. His voice was steady and even, sounding almost bored. His passive expression masked the wild summersault his stomach made.

 

Doe eyes blinked and a faint crease formed between delicately sculpted eyebrows. Rinoa already knew this. Bitter rivals had come to civil terms, which was a testament to their maturity. Squall had even attended Seifer's high profile party a few months ago. The two were hardly bosom buddies, but they had clearly set ground rules to keep from killing each other.

 

Thinking along these lines, Rinoa said, “I imagine it would be hard not to. With him in the city, you probably run into each other all the time.” It was an easy city to get lost in, and two people were likely never to meet twice. But two rivals whose lives revolved around gunblades were destined to meet on street corners and frequent the same weapons shops.

 

As the tension fled Squall's body and his shoulders sagged, he envied Seifer's ability to phrase things in a way that only needed stating once. The man didn't mince words, and he needed that right now.

 

Determined to convey his meaning and be done with it, Squall tried again. “We're involved,” he said. One look at Rinoa's uncomprehending eyes, and he knew he needed to spell it out. “We're dating,” he stated. Seifer would have chosen more colorful terminology.

 

At first, Rinoa thought that Squall was trying to tell her that her ex-boyfriends had moved on. They were dating other people. As if to spare her feelings at seeing Seifer with another woman, Squall now hinted that the ex-knight had no intention of ever dating her again. This was ridiculous. She had given no indication that she had feelings for Seifer. It had been nearly two decades since her summer fling with the handsome blond cadet.

 

Under Squall's insistent gaze, Rinoa looked to Ellone for understanding.

 

Nudging her saucer and cup forward to give her hands something to do, Ellone dissected every possible interpretation in her mind. “Are you… do you mean to say…” Her unpainted lips twitched into a nervous smile. Risking that she would sound like a fool, she asked, “Are you saying that you and Seifer are dating?”

 

Arms crossed, Squall stood at attention. He nodded and waited for a reaction.

 

Rinoa understood the implication hanging in the air, but she was certain she had missed something. “You're dating each other?” Her voice caught in her throat, ending with a squeak.

 

With impeccable timing, Irvine strode into the room. “Three of my favorite beauties,” he greeted. The remark earned an expected scowl from Squall, but neither Ellone nor Rinoa seemed have heard him.

 

Mechanically, Rinoa stood from her seat and walked over to Irvine. Hugging the gunman, she stepped back and asked, “Is Squall dating Seifer?”

 

Nudging his hat higher, Irvine glanced at Squall. “You told them already?”

 

“Only just,” Ellone supplied. She continued to nudge her saucer in circles.

 

“I don't understand,” Rinoa said, her eyes trained hopefully on Irvine.

 

Moving to stand behind Ellone, Irvine settled a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I wasn't thrilled either,” he assured.

 

Squall shifted his weight to one leg and watched his friends pretend like he wasn't in the room. He wouldn't have minded if their discussion weren't directly related to him. They looked as though someone had died.

 

“But you knew,” Rinoa said to Irvine.

 

Irvine didn't know if the sorceress was asking a question or making an accusation. “I knew from the beginning,” he admitted, fighting a smug smile. One of the benefits of being best friends with Squall was being the first to learn the sordid details of the man's personal life. Sadly, there hadn't been anything remotely sordid until Seifer had shown up.

 

Now Rinoa made an accusation out of a question. “How long ago was the beginning?” Not returning to her seat, she paced back and forth behind it, eyeing Irvine on the other side of the table. Her eyes traveled over to Squall. “How long?” she demanded.

 

Squall's knit brows relaxed and his focus became distant. Lost in reflection, he realized how much time had passed. He couldn't pinpoint the exact date that he and Seifer had started dating. There had been their first kiss, but he had been involved with Cale when it occurred. Then there was the first time they had had sex, which wasn't a pleasant memory to use as the starting point. Their second attempt at sex had been such a success that they had gone on to a third and forth. Their first official date had ended in disaster. The nearest Squall could mark the beginning of their relationship was Seifer's arrival in Esthar. It wasn't accurate, but he wasn't willing to explain everything that had happened.

 

“Since he moved here,” Squall said, simplifying all the events that had led him into Seifer's arms. If nothing else, Seifer's move to Esthar had been the catalyst.

 

Rinoa's incredulous gaze swiveled back and forth between Squall and Irvine. “Six months!” She set her hand to her forehead. “Hyne, Squall! Six months and you never thought to tell me?!”

 

Squall didn't bother pointing out that he had spent nearly three of those months on assignment. He chose to remain silent and let Rinoa's parade of emotions spill forth.

 

Ellone's expression darkened. Ruminating over the news for a moment, she regarded Squall with a sisterly frown of disapproval. “You know we don't like to pry, but if you've been seeing someone that long, you really should have told us.” Only able to focus on one startling revelation at a time, she latched onto the fact that Squall had kept a six-month relationship secret, never mind that Seifer Almasy was involved.

 

“What are we to you?” Rinoa asked.

 

Ellone gave Rinoa the look of disapproval. “It's just his way,” she reminded.

 

“Yeah, and I've been a good sport. But friends call each other, not just when they need help.”

 

Squall felt a pang of guilt.

 

The full recourse seemed to hit Rinoa then. “Oh Hyne,” she murmured as though stricken. She returned to her seat. “Seifer?”

 

Irvine jumped in, asking, “Would you ladies like something stronger than tea?”

 

“Yes,” Rinoa said immediately. Sweeping unbound raven hair behind her shoulders, she sank back into the chair.

 

“Rinoa,” Ellone hissed.

 

“What?” the sorceress said with challenge. “I'm entitled to a drink. This is the type of news that you're supposed to get drunk after hearing.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ellone reasoned. “It's shocking, more so than I probably even realize right now. But it's no more shocking than when Zell announced his engagement, or when Irvine and Selphie eloped.”

 

For a moment, Rinoa was distracted by the memory of Selphie and Irvine's marriage. The engagement had lasted a week. She and Selphie had just begun planning a big wedding, but Selphie was too impulsive a woman.

 

Trying to comfort herself as much as Rinoa, Ellone said, “We didn't even know Zell had been dating anyone. There was still so much publicity after the war. He said he wanted to keep a low profile.”

 

“Squall isn't engaged,” Irvine said. The muscle in his jaw flexed. “They're just dating. It's casual. It could be over any day now.”

 

Squall fought the urge to roll his eyes. Irvine's grudging acceptance of Seifer had reverted to disapproval. Because of the spell and the possibility that Seifer was the cause of it, the ex-knight had lost all standing with Irvine.

 

Rubbing her temple, Rinoa asked, “Am I allowed to ask questions, or is that right reserved for your real friends?”

 

Reading the hurt in Rinoa's eyes, Squall swallowed his guilt and gave her the allowance to at least ask questions. He brushed unruly bangs out of his eyes and nodded.

 

Rinoa didn't know where to begin. Her first thought on the matter wasn't a question at all. “I thought you hated each other.”

 

“Things changed,” Squall replied.

 

“I understand that circumstances can change and that people can change, but you two really hated each other,” Rinoa said. “How does all that hate and anger you had all your life change into you dating him?”

 

Squall gave his honest answer. “I don't know.”

 

“Can I tell them?” Irvine requested.

 

Giving Irvine the go ahead, Squall moved to the window and sat on the wide sill. Discretely, he turned his head so that his cheek rubbed against the bulky hood of his sweatshirt. He could smell Seifer. He didn't want to think about how he had fought the attraction, how he had rejected Seifer repeatedly. It made him ache to see Seifer. He tuned Irvine's words out. Instead, he reveled in the illusion that Seifer was close to him, the man's clean scent enveloping him.

 

A talented bard in his own right, Irvine spun a rather dramatic tale for Ellone and Rinoa. He knew which details to gloss over, like Squall's betrayal of Cale. He also knew how to make Seifer the bad guy, though Ellone and Rinoa's repeated eye rolls indicated that they didn't believe Seifer was half as liable as Irvine made him out to be.

 

Feeling bitter, Rinoa's spirits plummet. She had lived apart from Squall for many years, but the bond they had formed during the war was something she still treasured. Their friendship was supposed to transcend time and distance. She was dismayed to realize that she was a cursory part of Squall's life. For six months he had been with someone and this was the first she was hearing of it. Even worse than not being apprised was the knowledge that Squall wouldn't have told her if circumstances hadn't brought them together. The longer she listened to Irvine, the darker her mood became.

 

When Irvine had finished, Squall returned his attention to the group. In a gentle voice that held an unspoken apology, he said, “He'll be at the lab tomorrow, that's why I'm telling you now.”

 

“It'll take more than a day for me to get used to the idea,” Rinoa returned. “Don't think you're off the hook. You can say that your love life is none of my business, but…” As her sentence trailed off, her eyes widened. “No,” she gasped. Turning to Ellone, she shook the woman's shoulder, appearing scandalized by a sudden realization. Regarding Squall again, she said, “That night at the party. You took off and Seifer went after you.” She did a quick mental tally. “You were dating then. Afterwards, when I asked about it, you said it was a lover's quarrel.”

 

Rinoa remembered how funny the comment had been. Squall had seemed strangely sober while saying it and the joke had seemed out of place, but the absurdity of lifelong rivals dating had set off a fit of giggles. “Did you want to tell me back then? Was it because I laughed that you didn't?”

 

When Squall's only response was an indifferent shrug, Rinoa realized that her dear friend hadn't mean to keep anything secret. She had laughed in his face. Had he been embarrassed or hurt by it? “I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought you were joking.”

 

Stormy blue eyes softened at the apology. “I didn't expect you to take me seriously.” Rinoa's high and low emotions reminded him of the girl he had met at the SeeD ball years ago. When Rinoa was angry, everyone knew it, but she was never angry for very long. She was exuberant, excitable, and always dramatic.

 

Flashing Squall a wry smile, Rinoa tilted her head in mock thought. “I can't see it,” she said, grabbing a small cookie from the tray in the center of the table.

 

“You don't want to,” Irvine muttered.

 

Nibbling on the cookie, Rinoa tried to imagine her former flames together. “I'm not entirely convinced that Squall isn't playing a joke.” Her tone was playful, letting everyone know that she was simply teasing Squall and trying to make amends. Though she honestly couldn't picture the two men doing anything but trying to kill each other.

 

Ellone rolled her eyes. “When has he ever joked?”

 

Rinoa's lips pursed. “I'd sooner expect him to become a stand up comedian than date Seifer Almasy. They hate each other.” Hated each other, she corrected herself.

 

Both women fell into silence. For a moment, they locked eyes. Ellone's gaze was the first to fall. A similar thought occurred to them, though neither would ever admit it aloud. Centra was a backwater continent with none of the drama and intrigue of bustling city life. Though neither woman wanted for suitors, they were both hopeless romantics at heart. Rinoa had a stash of romance novels that could fill a library, and Ellone had read every single one.

 

If there was one thing that romance novels had taught them, it was that opposites were very much attracted to each other. The self-righteous heroine always fell in love with the disreputable rogue, and the passion between the unlikely couple filled the pages with heat. Hatred between rivals on the battlefield translated into incredibly hot sex in the bedroom.

 

It would have to be rough and animalistic. Two strong fighters, both alpha males, clawing and tearing as they each tried to dominate. One finally submitting and the other loving him for it…

 

Ellone fidgeted, suddenly growing very uncomfortable with where her thoughts dared to wander. She wouldn't have been so interested if she hadn't thought of Squall as a highly self-controlled man content to live a celibate life. Clearing her throat, she set aside her gnawing curiosity. “Do you think you can work with para-magic?” she asked Rinoa, welcoming the sobering distraction.

 

Tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear self-consciously, Rinoa's racing daydreams were doused with cold water. “I don't know,” she admitted. “I hope.”

 

--

 

Squall walked into Seifer's office, stopping just beyond the doorway. The same blonde secretary who had previously caught Lore's eye was bent near Seifer's side. Leaning too close, in Squall's opinion. If it weren't for a single straining button on her blouse, her breasts would spring free. If Seifer were aware of the woman's ample display, he gave no indication.

 

“Reschedule everything,” Seifer said. He gestured with a pen to a line in the document he held. “Clear the entire day.”

 

“I've tried,” the secretary countered.

 

Neither of them had taken notice of Squall yet.

 

“I can push everything back `til noon, but the meeting with Mason Corps has been set for weeks now. They're very insistent on meeting with you.”

 

Seifer set the document on the corner of the desk. “Then insist on rescheduling or they'll be meeting with an empty chair.”

 

“If I could give them a reason, they'd understand,” the busty blonde said.

 

“It's personal,” Seifer said in a clip tone. “Get it done.”

 

When the secretary snatched the document and straightened, she caught sight of Squall. “Sir, visitors must wait outside,” she instructed. Her eyes studied the newcomer with interest. She recognized Squall, or thought she did. She didn't trust her eyes enough to believe that Squall Leonhart was standing right in front of her.

 

Dressed in jeans and Seifer's oversized grey hoodie, Squall looked nothing like the briefcase toting businessmen that filed in and out of Seifer's office. On the flip side, buried in layers that hid his muscle lean form, he looked nothing like the sweat soaked fighters with bulging muscles that paraded around the lower floors of the training center.

 

“He doesn't need an appointment,” Seifer groused. Patience depleted, he gestured for his secretary to leave. She hesitated a moment before walking out the door. Her rushed steps didn't interrupt the jaunty sway of her hips.

 

With a beckoning wave of his fingers, Seifer called Squall closer. The brunet didn't heed him, which was to be expected. Instead, the man crossed his arms and shifted his weight in an adorably defiant manner.

 

Squall knew better than to say anything. The words left his mouth before he could stop himself. “New secretary?” Hearing his own jealousy, he wanted to bury his face in his hands.

 

Squall's embarrassment wasn't complete until Seifer's grin stretched from ear to ear. The ex-knight knew exactly what Leonhart was asking, and he intended to enjoy the hell out of it.

 

Grin turning lecherous, Seifer said, “As a matter of fact, I hand picked her. Dozens of women tried out, but none of them measured up to my standards.”

 

Deciding it would be best to change the subject, and quick, Squall said, “Rinoa and Ellone came in today.”

 

Like a starved dog with a meaty bone, Seifer refused to let the matter go. “She's a little dim, but I require my secretaries to have more than clerical assets. She has other endowments that compensate.”

 

A voice in the back of Squall's head warned him not to play this game with Seifer. The man enjoyed getting a rise out of people. Against his better judgment, he said, “I noticed.”

 

Green eyes flashed dangerously, all humor vanishing. “Did you?” Seifer hissed.

 

Uncrossing his arms, Squall moved forward until he drew even with the side of Seifer's desk. Sharp, predatory eyes followed his progress.

 

Standing, Seifer's long limbs unfolded until he towered above the brunet. “What did you notice?”

 

Calmly, Squall stepped closer. There were less than a couple feet between them. Meeting narrowed green eyes with a guarded stare, he said, “I noticed she was standing too close to you.” Suddenly, it wasn't something to be embarrassed about.

 

Seifer curled his hands into fists, knowing that if he touched Leonhart within the next ten seconds, it would be to tear the man's clothes off. “Meredith will be back next week,” he said.

 

The room felt warmer. Squall cast a quick glance to the door, confirming that it was closed.

 

Seifer observed Leonhart's glance and knew exactly what the man was thinking. Throwing caution to the wind, he swept down on his rival. Arms snaking around the man's waist, he claimed pout lips.

 

In a flurry, Seifer kicked his chair out of the way and pushed his laptop to the edge of the desk. He tugged at Leonhart's sweatshirt. “Take this off,” he said. “I can't feel you.”

 

Squall would have balked at the order and defiantly pointed out that just that morning Seifer had ordered him into the garment. However, he happened to be in complete agreement about not being able to feel enough through the heavy material.

 

With a few jerking movements, Squall cast the hoodie aside. The t-shirt he wore beneath rode up. Seifer's hands pushed the shirt higher until calloused thumbs rubbed over hardened nipples. He gasped against Seifer's mouth. An eager tongue silenced further vocal appreciation.

 

“You're so fucking hot,” Seifer muttered, more to himself than the responsive man in his arms.

 

The edge of the desk became painful as it pressed hard against the small of Squall's back. Hitching higher, using his hold on Seifer's shoulders to brace the move, he levered onto the edge and spread his legs to accommodate Seifer's body.

 

Seifer's hands groped every inch of warm flesh he could find. Up and down the muscular curves of Leonhart's chest and back. He tasted each delicious sound Leonhart made. He lapped deeper into the man's mouth until Leonhart arched with the need for air. Still, he pressed for more.

 

Cradling Leonhart's neck, he lowered the man back against the top of his desk. Finally breaking away, Leonhart panted and gazed up at him through heavy lids and glazed eyes.

 

Chest heaving, Squall licked slick lips and reached out for Seifer. The ex-knight's hand clasped with his, but Seifer didn't move closer. He gave the hand a squeeze and small tug.

 

“Let me look at you,” Seifer said, his voice hoarse. He wanted to sear this image of Leonhart into his mind. The man was sprawled wanton across his desk. Legs dangling over the edge, spread wide and inviting. Torso bared, hair rumpled, lips swollen red.

 

Squall could feel the heat of a blush creeping to his face. He didn't like being the center of such rapt attention. He hooked a leg around Seifer's waist and pulled the ex-knight in closer. Seifer jerked forward, thrown off balance so that he had to brace his hands on either side of Squall to steady himself.

 

Squall quirked a daring eyebrow, silently asking if Seifer needed to look some more or if the man was ready to move on to a more tactile activity.

 

While Seifer's eyes sparkled with amusement, he held back his laugh. At the feel of Leonhart's other leg wrapping around his waist, effectively binding him in place, he reached a hand out and brushed unruly bangs away from a pale forehead. His fingers trailed along the pink scar and over Leonhart's temple.

 

“You're gorgeous,” Seifer said. His thumb swiped over Leonhart's bottom lip. “Beautiful.”

 

Squall's blush was immediate this time. For a suspended moment, he forgot about the pressing need of his arousal. With a flutter in his chest, he recognized the adoring devotion in Seifer's eyes. He wanted to answer in kind, but didn't know where to begin.

 

Head tilting against the press of Seifer's hand, Squall reached his own hand to Seifer's face. He copied the man's gentle caress, moving from scar to temple to cheek and ghosting over handsome lips. He didn't understand the odd flutter inside of him, but he understood that he wanted Seifer. An unbidden smile graced his lips. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the tenderness between them. Instead, he smiled. He smiled with guilt that he couldn't properly return the increasingly frequent gestures of tenderness Seifer showed him. He smiled with a longing to spend his every waking moment with this man. He smiled with sadness because his own failings kept him from relating to people and better understanding this strange relationship.

 

“Sweet Hyne,” Seifer said, sounding breathless. His heart ached at the sight of Leonhart's fragile smile. What had he done to warrant such a look? His hand trembled as he traced the smile. It disappeared beneath his touch. He wanted to shake Leonhart and demand its return.

 

Squall let his hand fall from Seifer's face. His fingers whispered over the starched fabric of a white dress shirt until he found the man's heart. He paused, feeling the rapid beat. He eyed Seifer's chest curiously. Why was it beating so fast?

 

With a lopsided smirk, Seifer set his hand atop Leonhart's, holding it in place. “I don't know why,” he said in answer to the brunet's unasked question. “It just started all of a sudden.”

 

When Seifer's hand pressed against his own chest, Squall was surprised to realize his heart was beating furiously inside. He wasn't short of breath. He felt perfectly calm, serene almost. Yet his heart ran a mile a minute.

 

The two rivals felt each other's hearts, neither quite understanding the strange rhythmic race.

 

And like a dream shattered too soon by an alarm clock, Seifer jerked back. A disquieting thought bled to the forefront of his mind. This could be love. And he wanted none of it. Love wasn't something he believed in, not any more. Ultimecia had shown him the destructive force of his naïve romantic dreams.

 

Stung by the rejection in Seifer's suddenly cold regard, Squall unwrapped his legs and sat upright. “Seifer?” he questioned. He tugged his shirt back down as Seifer paced away and refused to meet his eyes.

 

“It's nothing,” Seifer said. “I just have a lot of shit to get done today. I'm trying to clear my schedule for tomorrow.”

 

Squall fought against his growing unease. Glancing between his discarded hoodie and the ex-knight, he was torn. He wanted to press against Seifer and feel assured by strong arms. But at the moment, he doubted whether Seifer would hold him close. He had the unnerving suspicion that Seifer would push him away.

 

Squall's heart continued to beat fast, but now it hurt. The organ beat against a crushing weight in his chest. Would Seifer push him away if he asked to be held? Like a coward, Squall dropped off the desk and grabbed the sweatshirt. He wasn't going to wait around and find out what Seifer would do.

 

“I should go,” Squall said as he ducked into the garment.

 

Seifer gave a hasty reply. “Yeah, that's best.”

 

Squall hid his contrite expression. Seifer's quick response sounded desperate for him to leave, to get out of the man's sight. Not knowing what he'd done wrong, Squall retreated to the office door. He reached for the handle, but paused. Speaking towards the inanimate black glass of the door, he said, “Rinoa and Ellone want you to come to dinner tonight. Can you make it?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

Squall bowed his head, his mind reeling. He replayed the moments before Seifer had pulled away. What had he done wrong? Was this the inevitable end he had anticipated from the beginning? How had he lost sight of the fact that Seifer was inevitably going to lose interest in him? Had the man finally realized he was more trouble than he was worth, especially now that they couldn't have sex?

 

Gathering the unraveled threads of composure, Squall mustered a relatively calm voice, though it sounded thick and subdued. “Call me either way?” He couldn't face Seifer. The shock of green eyes turning cold and freezing him out was enough to send him running. It had been easier to face Diablos than it was to risk asking Seifer what was wrong.

 

Seifer made a noncommittal sound. He needed to be alone. He couldn't think straight. The sight of Leonhart's narrow shoulders sagging nearly undid him. Before he could call Leonhart back and try to explain, the man slipped out the door.

 

 

TBC…

 

Author's note: Sorry for errors and typos. A lot of ups and downs in the chapter, maybe too many to follow. Towards the end, I felt like the sudden turn for the worse was a bit too much, but I figure the revelation of love is enough to give both of them pause.

 

This chapter had a lot more to it, but since I haven't updated in like a year, it seemed high time to post what I could. I'm sorry for the long wait. Between back-to-back semesters where I overloaded on classes and applying to graduate school, I've been too busy to do anything that required thinking.

 

I've already got a lot written for the next chapter. While job hunting may take up a lot of my time, I'm hoping to post again soon. Sadly, there are only a few chapters left. I'm not sure how I want to end the story yet, but it's definitely coming to a close. I think maybe two more chapters. I have a habit of leaving things open ended, but I'll try to give this piece as much closure as possible.

 

There are a number of outstanding issues that I will address, rest assured. The missing pictures, the reason another pregnancy is out of the question, and Cale will all be dealt with.

 

As always, all the reviews have been amazing. Thank you so much for all the support.