Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Home for the Holidays ❯ Chapter 2

Home for the Holidays

 

Chapter 2

 

For Darksquall. Sorry this took so long.

 

All Characters borrowed without permission from SquareSoft will be returned, only slightly traumatized, upon request. Written for love, not profit.

 

`Hero' Universe. Warnings: Contains Christmas shopping, foul language and general grouching. Hints of Yaoi.

 

*

 

“You still mad about that?”

 

“What, about the parking lot? Of course not.” I was trapped in an over heated mall, surrounded by eye melting, tacky ornaments, surly shoppers, and sickly sweet music. And I had a bruise on my ass the size of Balamb. What was there to complain about?

 

Squall huffed. “You are. You are sulking, Seifer. Like one of those kids.” He gestured towards a faux candy covered cottage where the Yule King was clearly not in evidence. Several morose children wandered about, sure they'd lost their only opportunity to help boost Esthar's toy stockpile.

 

“I never sulk. And even if I did, it would not be because you left me on my ass after I risked severe personal injury to perform my civic duty.”

 

“You threatened her! That's assault. There is a limited number of times I can talk Laguna into bailing you out of jail, you know.”

 

I stopped dead, causing a woman to ram me in the shin with a baby stroller. I cursed colorfully and rubbed my leg, getting a tsk of disapproval from a passersby for my lack of Yuletide glee. “I can't believe you have the shiny brass balls to say that to me. Who had to hold whom back when the little old lady bumped the Torama with her car door?”

 

“She dinged the side!” He frowned and I smirked. “And you did not have to hold me back.”

 

True, all Squall did was flash her the death glare. I did think I was going to have to do CPR on the poor old biddy afterwards, though. On the upside, I now knew what to get Squall for Yule: one of those buffer things. He could spend his time removing invisible flaws from his second love. It's not like I'd be getting any attention.

 

If I were sulking, I'd be sulking about that. The odds were not good I'd be getting laid on this vacation, as Selphie has this disturbing habit of bursting in unannounced and jumping on the bed. There are times in your life when that is fun, but I was pretty much over them by about age 6. Anyway, it makes me nervous, and I can't have sex if I know she's within a three mile radius. And we weren't having sex now, because not even I am kinky enough to get horny in a mall filled with crabby and a bit under washed holiday shoppers.

 

“Let's just get this over with, so we can go home and make out.”

 

 Squall had no objections to that plan, which cheered me up considerably, and I scanned the shops, planning my attack. As with all men, our major goal was to get out of there as quickly as possible. This is why, if directly inside the door, they had a table of Left Handed Nose Flutes, men would buy them. If the sales clerk happened to be a large busted blond, and the Left Handed Nose Flute could also be used as an Eel Stuffer and Corn Remover, men would buy one for everyone on their list. Five minutes, shopping done, where's the bar? Everyone needs a Nose Flute.

 

However, the greedy bastards who run shopping centers and malls want you trapped in there for endless hours, until you are willing to stand in line for 15 minutes just to get a tepid lemonade and a paper boat of deep fried atherosclerosis. And buy anything any cheerful large breasted blond tells you to. Or in my case, a cute little brunet guy.

 

Naturally, our parking space landed us in No Man's Land of the mall. Literally. All the close by shops were women's shoes or maternity, and not even Squall was clueless enough to think we'd live through buying Yule gifts from `Buns in the Oven'. There were shops of dainty little things, but I wasn't about to wade through that crap to find the one breakable item Ellone didn't already have. Even if I knew what it was.

 

Spotting the one thing I knew we'd been spending Squall's hard earned gil on, I beelined for the handy coffee kiosk. I spent the time in line hunting for something on the menu board that wasn't flavored with gingerbread, pumpkin pie, eggnog or peppermint, finally choosing two paper cups of what they laughingly called regular coffee, black. I headed over to where Squall was examining the “you are here” mall poster like it held the secret to the return of Hyne. “I tried the coffee, it's about a 6 on the `what is this crap' scale.”

 

He held out his hand. “As long as there are no sprinkles or weird flavors, I'm good.”

 

“ `Weird' is such a vague term.” I waited until he'd taken a swig to confide, “I think the barista washed her socks in the pot.”

 

Sadly, Squall has years of practice at ignoring me.  “They have a sausage and cheese store.”

 

Ah, the answer to all our shopping needs. Except… “Ok, Zell won't eat it, which I find weird from a guy who used to obsess over hot dogs, but still. Women won't eat it, either, I've noticed. You are allergic and it gives me heartburn. So that only leaves Irvine and your Dad.”

 

Native Galbadians can eat anything.

 

“Two down, then,” Squall said, and he was so happy about that he drank more of the coffee sludge and didn't even make a face. “We could get Quistis and Zell music discs.”

 

“Oh hell no. The last time I let you trick me into going into a music store, we ended up with a sound system that the local symphony calls to borrow.” Squall protested and I held up my hand. “No. I am not going to pry your ass away from the sub woofers or what ever the fuck new shiny electronic gizmo there is. Last resort, only. And that means, after we've tried the bubble bath and bedroom slippers.”

 

“We could get something for you,” he muttered. “A personal player. A modern one, you know, where you can hear out of both ear buds.”

 

“What about candy?” I counter offered, noticing no less than three confectionery shops listed. “It's Yulish, and everyone likes it.”

 

I got The Look. “Zell. Selphie. Sugar. Enclosed space.”

 

“Right, gotcha, you don't have to paint a picture, Hyne.” I tossed the remains of the coffee into a wastebasket, hoping it wouldn't eat through and escape. “What was the rule about gift cards?”

 

 Squall quoted, “They are lazy and show no imagination.”

 

 “A stigma I'm willing to endure.”

 

“I can't really give them money anyway, Elle and Laguna have masses more than we do, and I already sign the other's paychecks.”

 

“Just retire, Squall, you hate that job.” I headed towards the sausage and cheese place, weaving around the mobs.

 

“I love my job. Most of it - just not the artificial paper justification post mortem bits.”

 

That's right, it was me who hated his job, mainly because I was never sure what sort of shape Squall would be in once he finally got home.  Of course, the only part he enjoyed was the dangerous stuff. Good thing I'm going to be one hell of a doctor.  I fumbled around for something boyfriendish and supportive to say, but was saved by the window display at one of those Ladies' Undergarments places. I slowed, ogling.

 

 “Something you need to tell me?” Squall asked.

 

As if. He's the bisexual one, not me. “Lets get that red thing with the fluffy feathers for Quistis and put Zell's name on it.”

 

He tipped his head, thinking it over. “She'll kill him.”

 

“Hey, I have to have some fun on this vacation.”