Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 19 )

Living with Heart

Act XVIII

Hung over with only three hours of sleep added into the mix, Squall mumbled a sleepy groan at the feel of strong arms wrapping around his waist. Taking a deep breath, his body deciding to wake up, he reached a blind hand over his shoulder. Lethargically petting the head nuzzling his neck, it took him a moment to realize that his fingers weren't grasping long silky strands but short tufts that felt stiff with gel.

“What do I get for returning another man's treasure?” Seifer's deep voice rumbled in the younger man's ear.

Squall let his arm flop back down to the bed. “Seifer,” he greeted, disappointment apparent in his tone.

“Expecting Daddy dearest?” the knight mocked.

Rubbing his eyes, the brunet shifted to lie on his back. “What's the verdict?”

Humming contently, the blond eventually spoke, “I think my secret stash has been cleaned out. I knew I should have given you explicit orders not to touch it.”

A small smirk ghosted Squall's lips. “Sorry,” he murmured sleepily. “If it's any consolation, my head is pounding.”

Chuckling, Seifer informed, “I have every intention of making your morning hell.”

“…” Squall didn't doubt the knight would speak loudly, turn on every light, and hide every source of relief he might seek.

“I debated pouring water over you, but then I realized you're in my bed.”

Shaking his head, hair rubbing against the pillow, Squall agreed that it would have been a bad idea.

“First, you're going to make me breakfast, a big ass feast. Then, you're going to sober up and join me in the training center.”

Nodding his understanding, Squall sat up with a painful groan, a hand holding his forehead. He cursed unintelligibly, his annoyance split between his idiocy at drinking too much and the uselessness of potions on hangovers.

“Don't get confused about any of this Leonhart,” Seifer grumbled as he too sat up. “This doesn't mean I like you, it just makes us even.”

“Even?” the brunet questioned.

“Rinoa may be a royal princess, but it's nothing I can't handle. Coming to Esthar, taking her off your hands, none of that shit was any skin off my back. I don't like outstanding debts, and this is my payment.”

“Nnh,” Squall intoned, accepting such terms easily. It was better than admitting that Seifer was really going out there for him and that it would have made them something more akin to close friends than either of them would have liked. Any friendship between them was strictly ignored.

“I'll tell you about my amazing skills when I'm eating.”

Taking that as his cue to get started, Squall slowly crawled out of the bed. “What time is it?” he questioned at the door.

“Too early for me to be up. Call me when it's ready,” Seifer returned, stealing the vacant spot Squall had left and pulling the covers up despite being fully dressed.

Glaring at the knight's form, Squall left the room.

------

Taking the opportunity presented while Selphie left to use the bathroom, Irvine leaned closer towards the instructor seated across from him. “Give me access to Balamb's records and let me see what I can find.”

Not replying right away, Quistis shifted in the armchair, picking non-existent lint off her baggy pajama bottoms. Woken unexpectedly, she hardly cared about keeping up appearances in front of Irvine and Selphie, but she hadn't quite woken completely. “What do you have in mind?” she questioned, not willing to disclose the necessary codes unless it was something she was certain couldn't be done by herself.

“No offense, but this is my department of expertise. Let me check his files and see what I can come up with on my own.”

“Irvine, something like that…” the Head Instructor began, trailing off with indecision. Adjusting her wire rimmed glasses, she rephrased her concerns. “You do realize that there are certain boundaries, don't you?”

“I think we crossed the line when I went in and reported that I was unable to hack Esthar's satellite,” the gunman all but hissed. “There is no pulling a trigger halfway Quistis. The bullet is already on its way, and sticking your finger in the barrel at this point is just going to make a bloody mess.”

Crystal blue eyes stared for a long moment, not exactly grateful for the analogy. “Computer techs better than yourself have designed the system. If my signature is left all over Squall's files, we won't have time to sit down and analyze anything.”

“Then I won't leave a signature,” Irvine drawled smoothly. “There are three things I'm good at doing, three things that I'm better at than anyone else—shooting, hacking, and sex.”

“You're out of toilet paper. Sorry, I used the last bit.” Selphie announced as she returned, giving a weak smile. “So where were we?”

Licking his lips, Irvine spoke over the blonde instructor who seemed about ready to speak, “We were just discussing a new theory.”

Brows furrowed, Quistis cast a questioning glance towards the assertive gunman. When he gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, she frowned.

“What is it?” the copper haired woman queried with interest, flopping down beside the pretty cowboy.

“It's debatable, but what if Cid's been sending Squall on assignments since before passing the SeeD exam?” Picking his worn hat from off the armrest of the couch, he toyed with the rim as he continued. “Squall's a very strong fighter. It seems likely that Cid saw his potential and used him even though it was against protocol.”

Tongue darting out as she thought, Selphie considered Irvine's words. It was likely, if she forgot for one moment that Squall hadn't ever said a thing about it, which kind of hurt to consider. “But why were they fighting?” she murmured, eyes dimming in remembrance. “Why would Cid hit Squall?”

Giving a dry scoff, Irvine commented, “You know how Squall can be. Sometimes I feel like hitting him myself.”

“No, I don't know how Squall can be!” Selphie declared, glaring at the gunman for suggesting such a thing. “He's considerate even if he never shows it. He might not talk a lot, but most people talk too much anyway. I've never wanted to hit him. He's Squally, he's our Commander!”

“Xu's our Commander now,” Quistis reminded.

Tensing for a moment, Selphie stared in shock towards the solemn looking blonde across from her and Irvine. “I know that,” she mumbled dejectedly. “I just meant, I'll always look up to him.”

“And so will we, which is why we're here,” Irvine drawled, his tone calm and soothing.

Taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes, Quistis sighed. “I feel like we're running in circles here. We have nothing to go on and nowhere to go. What exactly are we speculating, and why?”

Jaw clenching, Irvine stared for a harsh moment. “Babe, you wouldn't make us some coffee, would you?”

“Huh?” Selphie intoned, blinking before realizing Irvine had been talking to her. Gazing at the man for a long moment, bright green eyes seeming to question if everything was alright, she gave a small nod and stood up.

Alone once more, Irvine requested, “Give me the codes. If you're tired of going nowhere fast, let me at least set a steady direction.”

Hands folded in her lap and lips set in a grim frown, Quistis slouched in defeat. “Alright,” she spoke softly. “But remember that if you mess up, none of us will be able to find anything out.”

------

Drying his hair as he exited the bathroom, Squall looked around the Seifer's bedroom with a scowl. “Where are my clothes?” he called out, confident the knight was still in the kitchen eating.

“They're dirty. Wear something else,” Seifer's voice returned in an amused tone.

“Bastard,” Squall hissed under his breath, forced to search through the blond's drawers for something suitable or walk through the halls in nothing but a towel to reach his own room which was unfortunately no where near Seifer's.

Torn between a pair of shorts that would ride longer along his legs than Zell's would have and folding the cuffs of a pair of jeans up, Squall eventually settled for the pants. Feeling like a complete idiot with a belt drawn to the last loop just to keep the pants from falling off every two steps, he angrily shrugged into a plain yellow t-shirt that seemed a decent size for him.

Loath to exit in his over sized clothes, Squall was resigned to listen to the blond's snickering as he joined the man in the small kitchenette. Glaring icily, he silently hoped that the amusement found at his expense was worth it in the end. “I could have worn them to my room at least,” he hissed as he wrenched the refrigerator open and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Sorry, the cadet I pay to do my laundry came by and it seemed like the most convenient thing to do. I guess I'm just a nice guy,” Seifer remarked, smirking around another forkful of hash browns.

Scoffing, Squall questioned, “You pay for laundry?”

“It's more like an agreement, but I guess you could say I pay the kid in the form of not beating him up.”

Shaking his head in disapproval, Squall joined the knight at the small square table fastened to the wall. Sipping his chilled drink, he debated inquiring about the location of any medicines for hangovers, any variation would do.

“Is this all you could come up with?” the blond complained, scraping the last bit of hash browns from the platter in the center of the small table.

Stormy blue eyes cast a quick glance at the empty platter. The eggs and sausage were already gone. “That's all you had,” he informed simply.

Rolling his eyes, Seifer gave the brunet a sardonic look that conveyed his displeasure. “Make some coffee,” he ordered, grinning maniacally when the stubborn lion actually stood up to comply. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that he intended to milk to the very end.

“All you have is instant,” Squall stated, not waiting for a comment before preparing it. Honestly, he felt numb to Seifer's bullying, even his anger over the clothes dissipating. He just wanted to return to Esthar. Everything else was merely insignificant, including his inclinations to throw something sharp and heavy at the blond's head.

“Okay,” Seifer exclaimed, rubbing his stomach contentedly. “I hopped a train to Dollet, your favorite town,” he began, smirking at the way narrow shoulders tensed.

Lips pressed together, Squall set the microwave to nuke the cup of water for a minute. “Dollet,” he murmured when the blond didn't continue. He hated Dollet, everything about the place. Prior to his mission during the SeeD exam, his last visit their had been an extended excursion with the former governor of the city, during which time he'd been pushed too far and ended up calling for Seifer's help.

“I was supposed to meet up with Kadowaki, but before that happened your bodyguard made an appearance.”

Eyes widening, Squall snapped around and questioned, “James?”

“Yeah, he's the one,” the knight said, his grin never faltering.

Schooling his expression, Squall lowered his gaze to the floor. He didn't think James would have come after him, but perhaps it had been Laguna's order. It was a few more moments before his eyes widened once more. “Dr. Kadowaki?” he questioned again.

“You catch on quick,” Seifer mocked. “She's been looking out for you whenever she could. I think she's known from the beginning, but your head has always been up your ass, so I doubt you've even realized it.”

“She knows,” Squall mumbled in disbelief. “She never said anything to me.”

“Did you say anything to her?” Seifer shot back. “You're so dense Leonhart.”

At the sound of the timer going off, Squall busied himself with adding the powdered grinds of instant coffee, pausing to read the side panel on the container and then dishing out a second spoonful.

With a chink, the cheaply made coffee was placed before the boisterous blond. Choosing not to sit down, Squall gave his hands something to do and collected the empty plates on the tabletop.

“Kadowaki still showed up, and the three of us had a nice little chat.”

Biting his lip, Squall tried to determine if Seifer was a big enough asshole to string him along this whole time and then inform him that all efforts had failed. “Can you be more direct?” he requested, needing to know if he was going to be spending another week at Garden or another year.

“I've got what you need,” Seifer stated bluntly. “Enough that discredits whatever bullshit Kramer's come up with anyway.”

“How?” Squall questioned, slowly moving closer.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Seifer grew solemn in reflection. “Believe it or not, the answer came to us.”

“To the three of you, in Dollet?” the brunet murmured, making sure he was on the same page, hardly sparing a moment to appreciate the effort put forth by those on his side.

“We were hashing out a few ideas when this guy came up to us. To make a long story short, the guy's a reporter for the Timber Maniacs and he's been a stalker for something like two years now.”

Brows furrowed, Squall questioned, “What's his name?”

“Hadrian Richardson. He's pushing fifty, at least he looks like it. He's been digging up all sorts of dirt since he saw you in Timber with President Deling's advisor.”

“Define dirt,” Squall said with growing trepidation.

Seifer grinned, recognizing Squally-boy's expression as what he'd also felt when realizing some outsider had proof of certain under the table deals. With Cid threatening to expose Leonhart with lies, they didn't need some reporter threatening to expose the war hero with truths.

“It's the not the dirt that matters,” Seifer stated, green eyes dancing with mirth. “What matters is that this chump is madly in love with you and would do anything to help you out.”

Squall stared with a neutral expression, not even blinking when long moments passed.

“Shall I rephrase?” Seifer lilted, polishing his nails on his shirt and blowing on them.

Still processing the information, Squall eventually stirred from his frozen pose. Lips parting, he hesitated to voice his question.

“The guy was following Kadowaki, but he refuses to reveal his sources, so I don't know how he knew about her.” Leaning forward slightly, the blond knight crossed his forearms on top of the table. “It boils down to Richardson having rolls of film that place you with not only a number of paying customers, but a special occasion where Cid delivered you personally.”

Searching his memories, Squall tried to figure who he'd been with after Deling's advisor. He couldn't even remember the advisor's name, let alone who he'd slept with since then. Though, he did recall the one time that Cid had accompanied him to meet with Governor Jordan. It had been a pivotal moment, not long after the previous governor had retired and the botched mess of his last visit. Cid had joined him to discuss matters and basically let the newbie politician know what special services Balamb Garden had to offer.

“Am I fucking genius or what?” the blond exclaimed, reclining dangerously in his seat.

On the verge of pointing out that it was more a case of being in the right place at the right time, Squall held his tongue. He refused to feel any relief, firmly believing that nothing was set in stone until he was actually back in Esthar. Cautiously, he asked, “What does this guy want?”

“Nothing,” Seifer answered scathingly, finding such a selfless act to be suspicious and insulting to his way of life.

Eyes narrowing, Squall questioned, “What do you mean, `nothing'?”

“Nothing means nothing,” Seifer stated. “Richardson wants nothing in return but the knowledge that you're happy. He's a fucking loon if you want to know the half of it, spouting off shit about how he couldn't live with himself if you weren't able to smile.”

The urge to bang his head against the table came along with the many questions about this sudden turn of events. With a heavy sigh, Squall pinched the bridge of his nose and sunk back against the chair he'd been sitting rigidly in. “Just tell me what he wants,” he urged.

“As if I could make this shit up,” the blond commented with annoyance. “He's a psycho stalker that should be making you his sex slave.”

Squall glared at that.

“I tried to tell him that you'd be perfectly willing to bend over and take it good `n hard if he did this for you, but he almost walked out on me for suggesting it.”

“Do you have the film? Did you actually see it?” Squall questioned, trying to find fault in something that seemed so easily discredited as false hope.

“Is that a joke? Stick to swordplay, your humor sucks.”

“Then how do you know, if you didn't see?” Squall spoke reasonably.

Reaching over the table, Seifer watched as stormy blue eyes simply followed the movement, no fear or avoidance. Flicking the younger man's forehead, he barked with laughter at the utter bewilderment that overtook the former Commander's eyes after flinching.

Squall raised a hand to his forehead, touching where Seifer had hit. When the blond seemed highly amused with no sign of settling down any time soon, he sent a withering glare and crossed his arms with an indignant huff. “What was that?”

It was a matter of minutes before Seifer managed to calm down, head bowed in his hands as he couldn't bear to stop laughing if he looked at Squall's face. “Priceless,” he stated, shaking his head.

“…” Unamused, Squall glowered.

“Of course I saw the goods,” Seifer stated defensively. “Who do you think you're dealing with,” he chastised.

Rolling his eyes, Squall attempted to return to the focus of their conversation. “Where are we now?”

“We're in my dorm room,” Seifer answered with a grin.

While Squall had managed to keep his hopes down, his frustration was as painful as his headache. Slamming his fist down on the tabletop, he kindly informed the blond of his feelings on the matter. “I want to go back,” he whispered softly.

Whistling, Seifer commented, “Is it because he's the President of Esthar or did no one ever explain that fathers weren't for fucking?”

Resentful of the implication that his feelings for Laguna were just a screwed up manifestation of a son's feelings for a father, Squall glared venomously.

“Hyne Leonhart, my balls just shrunk it got so cold,” he declared, giving a fake shiver.

“You told me to stay there, that it was a better life,” Squall reminded.

“I know what I told you, I was there,” the knight shot back. “I'm still confused how a man pushing fifty that trips over his own feet bagged you in a matter of days. The math doesn't add up.”

“Bitter or jealous?” Squall murmured, a small smirk playing across his face as he thought of Laguna. He wanted to see the older man, and wasn't ashamed to admit that he was in aching need for a good fuck.

“Neither,” Seifer growled. “I'm just confused.”

Scoffing, Squall clued the blond man in, “You've never seen him naked.”

Cringing, Seifer reeled back. “For Hyne's sake Leonhart, I don't want images.” It was a moment later that he studied the amused expression on Squall's face and questioned, “Is he bigger than me?”

“Much,” Squall informed impassively, laughing on the inside.

“Bullshit,” Seifer remarked, sending an annoyed glare at no particular point on the table.

Shrugging with indifference, Squall asked, “Can I go to Cid today? Does Richardson want to meet with me?”

“I couldn't bring anything back with me, they checked me at the gates. But, Kadowaki's vacation ends tomorrow. She'll be the transporter.”

“What about Richardson?”

“What about him?” Seifer questioned. “He's a fan of truth and justice, fighting the good fight for a young man he fell in love with at first sight. All it takes is a little wiggling of your ass to make him happy, so I don't suggest meeting with him to express your gratitude. You'll just give him ideas that break the no touching policy.”

“He wants nothing?” Squall's disbelief was far from being abated. “No money, no sex, not even a word of thanks?”

“I said he was psycho. Who knows, maybe he'll come knocking on your door in a year and ask for his dues then.”

A sudden thought occurred to Squall. “Did he say anything about Laguna? Does he know about that?”

Frowning, Seifer shook his head. “He mentioned security being too tight around Balamb Garden and how he couldn't live with himself if his stalking screwed with some mission during the war. Assuming everything the guy says is true, he pretty much stalled his obsessive Squall watching after your mission in Timber.”

Rubbing his temple, Squall soothed his headache as best he could. It was difficult to think so much when each additional level of concentration brought a new meaning to the word `migraine'. He'd thought Richardson might have been a friend of Laguna's. If they were around the same age and the man was a reporter for the Timber Maniacs, then it seemed a bit too likely to simply be coincidence. He'd have to wait until he could talk with Laguna.

“Then I'll confront Cid tomorrow,” Squall announced quietly to himself, hope springing up and his mind already jumping ahead to his return to Esthar.

“If that's all settled for you, let's haul ass to the training center.”

Squall glanced down at himself. While reluctant to walk the halls in Seifer's clothes, it inevitable. Scowling at the blond, he silently vowed to win their match despite his hangover.

TBC…