Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Sins of Two Fathers ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2003, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. What have I done?! Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. **WARNING** This chapter contains frank sexual discussion. If you are uncomfortable with homosexuality or kink, just go away, alright?

She knew she'd packed that shirt for something. Why Seifer had chosen to buy it for her in the first place was a mystery. A father wants to protect his daughter, not put her on display. Then again, she was never the normal girl. No boyfriends, not much care in dressing, and no one to impress. It well could have been a gift of wishful thinking.
Pulling the shirt off of the hanger, she turned it around several times. There was a dull, silken shimmer to it; not too demanding of attention, but a fabric that would inspire someone to think it was nice, at least. Not expensive, just nice. There was a difference. It was a burgundy-crimson much darker than that of her eyes, with a form-fitting hug to it and tight sleeves that were slit on the underside three inches above the wrist to rest open. There was a slight collar to it, just to hug the back of her neck and let her hair slide freely, and the front was lace-up with a black ribbon as opposed to buttons or snaps. But the real feature of this shirt was the back; a large diamond of fabric was completely missing nearly from neck to waist, shoulder to shoulder. It actually looked more like a cross than a diamond, the sides of the shape moved subtly inward. That's why she loved it. And possibly shy she'd never worn it before.
While she didn't have a full-length mirror in her room here, she didn't need one. It felt good, therefore it worked well. Comfort was of main concern. The shock value was added benefit. With a slightly sadistic smile, she unbuckled her new belt and slid her hand along it's length; and discovered something. She certainly hadn't seen it before. Upon closer inspection, it was pretty clear why; this was a gunbelt. Each bullet compartment was carefully hidden on the inside of the belt with almost invisible stitching and extra thin leather panels. Ingenious. And really very simple. Why the idea hadn't seemed to occur to her before wasn't something she liked to think about. It made her feel... stupid.
The belt was to stay on through the evening, that much was decided. She couldn't help but wonder if Cloud had known all of its secrets when he'd given it to her. And then, along that line of thought, where had he gotten it in the first place? It wasn't a fashion belt. It was too useful to be just another pretty accessory for someone. The next time she visited her grandfather, she'd make it a point to ask. But politely. Gift horses and so on.
Lastly, the boots. She only had one pair of footwear. There was never a need for anything else. Sure, they were getting old and ragged, but the leather still held. She'd had to glue the soles back together a number of times, but they were still... relatively solid. Comfortable, at least.
One last run of her fingers through her hair, and she was set. This would probably be the first date in history that involved a gunblade every step of the way. But, patting the precious weapon at her side, she doubted her new friend would expect anything less. She kinda liked that Rodger.
After one more satisfactory christening of her very own bathroom, she waited at her desk, staring blankly at a constantly moving screen saver. It wasn't TV, but it was just as good. Better plot than most shows, anyway. The characters, though... About thirty seconds past seven (not that she was counting), there was a knock at her door.
How droll, she thought, getting up to answer it. A knock instead of that annoying buzzer. Another plus point.
On the other side of the door stood her date, looking exactly the same as he had earlier. Well, nearly. The jeans were a little less faded than his others, and the black shirt was actually what one would consider black. But that was him, alright. Before she had the chance to make a teasing comment, he handed her something wrapped in clear plastic.
She took it graciously, laughing. "A muffin."
Rodger grinned shyly. "They don't sell candy in the cafeteria." As he finally had the opportunity to notice her new shirt, he surreptitiously tried to snap his jaw shut. It fit her well. Really, really well. There was a pleasant surprise in that, alright.
"Shall we?" his date invited, trying to get him to back up so she could walk out the door.
"Yes." He agreed instantly. "Yes, let's."
She slipped out of her doorway and used the lock code without turning her back to him. She wanted to keep the surprise until the last possible minute. It'd come as a shock in one way or another, she hoped. She did live to surprise. With a smile and a nod, she indicated that she was ready to go.
He had no intentions of bringing her anywhere but the Garden's cafeteria. And he felt a little foolish for that, especially since it was Kyrie that had made dinner plans. "I, uh... I'm sorry I don't really have the... money at the moment to take you out somewhere..." he started to apologize.
"Don't worry about it." She cut him off. "Me either. Besides, I don't really like fancy places."
That probably shouldn't have surprised him. It didn't, actually. It was the fact she'd said it straight out that was a little surprising. But refreshing. They began to walk.
The hallways were amazingly empty for that time of night in Garden. There were students here and there in the hallways, but only small groups. Very few were playing cards, and fewer still were talking in loud or joyful voices. A hush seemed to have fallen as darkness overwhelmed the outside; it was the first time many of them had been away from home. Perhaps the majority of the new students (and even some of the old) were just spending time adjusting to their environments. Or catching up on sleep. Either way, Kyrie hoped it meant a pleasant, relatively quiet cafeteria atmosphere.
In a vain attempt to be a gentleman, Rodger slithered his arm around her shoulder. It was at that point he discovered the other jaw-dropping feature of this particular shirt. He let the curse forming on his lips slip into an inaudible sigh.
But Kyrie felt his chest heave. "You like it?" she asked under her breath.
Caught now, wasn't he? "Yes." He admitted. "It's... very nice." Several questions and a number of comments came to mind... but, wisely, he decided to keep them there. He was not about to screw up a good thing.
They rode the "cafeteria express" escalator up two floors with almost no one around. There were a few instructors wandering, and a couple of older looking students in the odd corner with books. For the most part, though, it seemed even more abandoned. Private. And that was very nice.
Even the cafeteria, the center of the student world, had an unnatural hush to it. There were some people having dinner or dessert, but the voices were low and located more or less all to one side. Excellent for the anti-socials who chose to sit on the other side of the room. They glanced at one another and nodded before making their way to the most distant table possible.
Finishing her duties for the night, Quistis raised an eyebrow and approached, having caught a glance at what Kyrie was wearing. Lovely though it was, there was quite the obvious exposed back. That wasn't necessarily against any of the rules, but it wasn't presented as particularly okay, either.
Kyrie looked behind her as she heard footsteps, noting the look on her aunt's face. "Quistis, this is the wildest thing I'm ever going to do. Be thankful."
The instructor chuckled, nodding. "I think I might need your assurance on that..."
Growing up with Seifer had its merits, indeed. Kyrie assumed the suave calmness he'd more or less accidentally taught her. "Quisty, I'm an angel. I think all of us know that."
Her aunt's smirk certainly spoke volumes. "Have a good time."
Kyrie grinned comically and held two thumbs up. After Quistis was out of sight, she turned back to Rodger. "You heard the lady."
"I'll do what I can." He returned, indicating the chairs. As his date sat, he grunted with satisfaction and took his own seat. It was a nice place and a nice time to sit and shoot the breeze. "What'd they say?"
She knew instantly what he meant. "I only talked to Squall." She paused, trying to sum up the experience. "He asked what I was doing tonight, and when I was going to visit them."
He cringed. "Ouch."
"Bad blood lasts forever." She murmured, waving down the chick with the tray of cups who seemed to have nothing to do but wander around the tables. But hey, as long as she was paid for it. After she laid two cups with ice in front of the pair and left, Kyrie continued. "What are you hungry for?"
"Pork or pork byproduct. Or maybe another meat that smells like pork." He paused as the water girl came back to fill their cups, then wandered away once more. "You?"
"Fried chicken. Hold the pork." She leaned back and tapped her fingernails against the cold glass a couple of times before completely falling silent.
"Good luck."
"Thank you. And what were you doing in that time?"
A mildly uncomfortable look passed through him, but it was lost within seconds. Something about her just invited him to open up. "Thinking about calling my mother."
Not that she meant to pry, but she assumed that she may as well. She had nothing to lose, and assumed that he probably wouldn't care. At least, she'd soon find out. "Did you?"
"No."
Short, straight, to the point. She felt a kindred spirit, so to speak. "This family guilt shit is complete crap, isn't it?"
"Yes." Rodger leaned in a little closer. "Yes it is."
She shook her head. The next generation sure did suck. She held firm to the belief that it wasn't supposed to suck as much as it did. That maybe somewhere it all went wrong, and some day it'd get better. Where is the fucking happy ending, already?
"Would you mind if I asked what happened to your mother?" he nearly whispered. He wasn't sure how she'd take it, but he suspected she wouldn't mind discussing. They'd asked each other some personal things already, right?
Kyrie grunted quietly. "She killed herself a couple of years ago." Right after Edea disappeared, in fact. They always wondered if the two events were connected, but nothing had been discovered since. It was practically a forgotten history, anymore.
He hadn't heard about that, surprisingly. Maybe his parents figured it would cause a lot more trouble than it was worth to have breached the subject in the first place. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Yeah..." she paused, wondering what kind of reaction he was expecting. It was probably nothing like the one he was going to get. "Well, I didn't know her. And from what I've heard of her, I'm okay with that." And so the story goes that she left her powers with some little girl on the street and slashed her wrists. Probably the most mental Sorceress in history. And that was saying a lot.
It was... really weird, how comfortable he felt with her. Even after that topic. Even after her response. Maybe it was the family history they shared without ever really actively participating. He'd never felt that comfortable with his own family, let alone some stranger indirectly related to his parents' past. And a chick on top of that.
She glanced at his eyes as though skimming through a book. "What do you know about my parents?"
He blinked, the question seeming to have fallen from the sky. Just as he was about to answer, the water girl came back. Only this time she had a pad of paper and a pencil.
"And what will you have?" she asked, almost sickeningly perky.
Kyrie tipped her chair back just a bit, pondering. "What are you serving?"
"Sandwiches." The girl replied as though the answer itself was bright and shiny.
The antisocial pair exchanged glances. "Two, then?" Kyrie asked uncertainly.
"Yep." Rodger responded without enthusiasm.
"Coming up!" the girl scribbled something resembling a wavy line on the pad and dashed away.
"Ick." Kyrie commented under her breath.
Rodger grinned. It shifted into a less interesting expression when he remembered her question, trying to find an answer for it. "Not much." He decided upon. "I don't really know that much."
She continued looking at him, holding him to a better answer. Not that she wanted specifics or anything, but she was curious as to what he'd actually been told, versus what he had overheard.
He swallowed, fully aware the subject was not going to drop so quickly. "I know about their past. But I guess everyone does." He paused to lean in a little once again, not wanting the entire room to be able to hear him (even if they were actively discussing who was cute all the way on the other side). "All I really knew was... well, lots of people felt a little betrayed."
Oh, that spoke volumes, alright. But it did thoroughly answer her question. He didn't know any more than anyone else in the whole goddamn world. That was a little comforting, actually. She nodded. "Yeah, that sums it up."
"I'm not trying to be a jerk." He felt he had to assure her. "I just... that's all I know..."
"Don't worry about it." She legitimately tried to put his fears to rest. "It's touchy no matter who says what."
He felt like an idiot when the next thought came to mind. But he felt that he should say it. Strange or crude as it may sound, he felt the need to express the thought in all it's unrefined glory. "I think it must be... really hard for you. In the middle and all."
"Well, yeah." She admitted, getting completely serious for a moment. "Squall's my dad, in every sense of the word. Seifer is part of my life, too. He's my father. All my life, I've seen him torture himself over his stupid decisions. It's not like he's proud of it. And I'm certainly not embarrassed to be his daughter." She paused reflectively. "He worries, though. He doesn't want me to use his name or wear the bloodcross." Seriously in need of a diversion, she shifted into a little bit of humor again. "Could you imagine if I walked in here with a bloodcross jacket or something?"
He smiled meekly and nodded, just glad she wasn't pissed at him. At least, she didn't seem to be. "I... kind of understand. I mean, it's not the same thing. My father's just a world renowned..." he made sarcastic quote marks with his fingers, "'Ladies man'. But I get it."
The conversation was once again interrupted by the bubbly waitress/water girl. She placed plates identical to the ones at lunch in front of them and made a quick departure back to the tables where people received her warmly.
There was a moment of silence; probably for their appetites. "I may lose a lot of weight here." Kyrie stated. "As if there were much more to lose."
Her date regarded her quietly. He'd almost had a heart attack, or at least a moment of devastation. For the glimmer of a second, she sounded just like every other girl. But then, thank the gods, she had amended her comment. "We might both die of hunger before the end of the week."
"All the more reason to go home for the weekend." She agreed, oblivious to his thought process.
There was a thought. Maybe he ought to take his mother up on that offer and go home, for the sole purpose of eating. He made a mental note to phone her up and "surprise" her tomorrow.
Kyrie felt the need to check under the bread, just in case. Still looked and smelled like turkey. Somehow she was a lot less hungry than she was moments ago, however. Instead of showing the bravery she had at lunch, she began to pick only the chips.
Rodger chuckled to himself, having similar plans. "I don't know. If all we eat are the chips, that solves the weight problem..."
"Yeah." She agreed with a grin. "Then I can work on having something resembling muscle. Of course, they don't give you many chips."
Hm. Relaxed. This was an interesting feeling to have on a date. "I know it's a weird idea..." he suggested quietly, "But... do you want to go to the training center and shoot, maybe?"
Kyrie carefully calculated her reaction. She didn't want to appear too thrilled. But she was glad for the suggestion. "I'd love to, actually."

The way the Garden training center was set up, a new student's card could only get them into the beginner's room. Only after so many months and an experience test by an instructor in battle technique did one get to graduate into the intermediate room. Not that either of them minded that much; they weren't in for tooth and claw battles. Just practice. Maybe a little challenge. Anything but the typical date, perhaps.
Rodger grinned at the protective, delicate treatment Kyrie's gunblade received. She grasped onto it though it were a wild animal, respectful but commanding, lifting it out of it's scabbard. The weapon was obviously of great importance; more obviously so when he saw the engraving on the blade. A gift from her parents, that much was clear. A symbol of all of her pride in her bloodline. Sans Rinoa's part in it, anyway.
There was literally no one else around them in the grounds. Not even a licensed instructor hanging around, telling them what not to do. Certainly not that they minded. It was more blissful than the cafeteria they'd just evacuated from.
"Just us and the monsters." Kyrie joked, kneeling to pull up her pant leg. She hadn't had the time to transfer her bullets to the belt yet, so they remained in their original place; strapped securely to her ankle. Quickly pulling six, she stood and proceeded to delicately spin the barrel out and load, one by one.
Rodger hadn't wanted to stop by his dorm room to get his own rifle, due to having a roommate that he was certain would be very curious as to why he was shooting so late at night, "alone". He didn't feel like explaining. Luckily, he'd had no reason to worry; Kyrie insisted she stop back in her own room to grab a few extra bullets, and his roommate was dead asleep anyway. Things never seemed to work out so nicely for him before... but who was he to question the delicate and often sadistic workings of fate?
Loading his rifle, he noticed his date's stance out of the corner of his eye. Carefully inspecting the straight edge and the sight. A wise decision. "My dad had a crooked sight once..." he murmured.
She grinned, lowering her gunblade, satisfied with the continued accuracy. "So I hear. I don't know the details, but Seifer thought it was fucking hilarious."
He chuckled. "Yeah, well, Pa sure didn't think it was that funny."
She watched the way he smoothly spun the loaded weapon once around before grasping it firmly and cocking it. Very impressive. "Show off." She joked.
Regardless of the light blush, there was a look of amused pride on his face. He hadn't intended to show off. He was just used to spinning the damn thing before he started shooting. It was inborn by now; part of his consciousness. It was his "style". "Well, show me up, then." He challenged.
Kyrie regarded him with a sly smile, resting her gunblade on her shoulder. "Now this is my idea of a nice evening."
They passed nothing more than friendly challenges back and forth. Shoot this, kill that, aim for this and draw. It turned out to be excellent practice to get her bearings on her new weapon, fine tuning the accuracy and range. She grasped her gunblade, dug her heels into the dirt and squeezed that trigger; every time with the same enthusiasm. And once in a while, she'd just outright slash. Or, better yet, the slash-and-fire. Now that little move worked almost every time in the beginner's room.
Rodger enjoyed watching the triumphant look on her face with every successful strike. Regardless of how many monsters went down, there wasn't an overconfidence there. More of an almost cynical waiting for something to go awry, actually. But there was still confidence in her motions and responses.
After what really seemed like scant minutes, the monsters simply stopped coming. Some of them may have wised up. Kyrie waited another number of seconds, noting the complete and utter silence before lowering her weapon to the ground. "Wow. I think we ran out of supply."
Her date nodded, taking another glance around to make sure they weren't being watched by anyone or anything. "Someone is going to be very pissed when they have to completely restock the room in the morning." He announced matter-of-factly.
She smirked, thinking it safe enough to sheathe the gunblade; but she was still on her guard. She knew better, even among the "lower level" creatures. They could do damage. "They ought to be glad they have such fantastic marksmen in the Garden."
He followed her lead, removing the last unfired shot from his rifle and placing it in his pocket. Out of instinct more than really wanting to know, he glanced at the digital clock near the door. "I suppose it's getting late." He sighed, honestly not ready to break off the date. He'd never had a more interesting night with a chick before. It was the most fun he'd ever had with a girl; which, perhaps given his expertise, wasn't saying much. Sure they didn't go anywhere or do a lot, but it was fun.
She looked up at the clock. A little after 2 in the morning. "Wow. I guess so. We've got to rest up for more great assemblies."
Rodger grunted in agreement. This time there was little hesitation. "Can I walk you home again?"
"Sure. You can come in for a cocktail." She joked. She tried very, very hard to suppress the laughter threatening to make her seem like a pervert. She realized that her humor... "took time to appreciate".

One more glance up and down the hall to make sure it was absolutely deserted, she locked the door behind her. "I have two places to sit. So feel free to use one."
Rodger pondered his situation; desk chair, or bed. Was the bed too pretentious? Then, was the desk chair too stand-offish?
Kyrie grinned at the intense look on his face. Solving his problem immediately, she sat on the bed and patted the wide open spot next to her.
Thought more or less completely stopped from the time he'd seen her indication to the time he actually sat down. It couldn't have been any longer than a single second, but it sure as hell seemed like an eternity of space-like emptiness. And not of the worst kind, either. Now... how the hell should he start off? "So... did you have fun?" he prodded gently.
She smiled thinly but genuinely at his effort. "Yes. I can honestly say that's the most fun I've ever had on a date."
He beamed... and then realized something. "Have you... ever been on a date before?"
Damn. Caught. "No." She didn't bother to hide the amusement. "But I can honestly say even if I had, it'd still be true."
That was a good sign... right? "Well... good."
Kyrie caught his attention with a playful smirk. "So... now what happens?"
Alarms went off. Loaded question. But not necessarily in the worst of ways. Regardless of how comfortable he felt around her, he could feel his heartbeat spike. "I... uh... s-stuff."
"If you don't mind me asking..." she got very close, lowering her voice, "What experience do you have on the... 'flavored' side of things?"
Rodger blushed hard at her bluntness. He'd gotten the meaning right away. "My last girlfriend was... pretty freaky."
She laughed. "How so?"
He paused for a long time, wondering just how she'd react to talking so openly about these sorts of things. Then he remembered who her parents were. He supposed in one way or another, she'd probably been prepared for everything. Not to mention the fact she'd brought it up in the first place. "Well, uh..." he blushed harder just thinking about it. "She liked... seeing two guys... go at it... in leather... and stuff...." He cleared his throat and looked away.
Instead of being repulsed, she actually looked interested. "Hm. Never heard of that before."
Something miraculous happened: he didn't feel awkward. Well, not that awkward, anyway. "Yeah... she was a little obsessed."
Kyrie raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "And what else did she teach you about?"
The blush instantly returned. This may not be the most intelligent way to go about things, discussing sex with Squall Leonhart's daughter. And Seifer Almasy's daughter. In the boundaries of a Garden. At which her aunt was an instructor. In her private room. At this time of morning.
"Don't tell me you're inexperienced." She teased delicately.
The blush only got hotter. "I... uh... m-more or less... kind of."
One corner of Kyrie's lip rose to expose a canine. She had a very devious look on her face. "Me too. For obvious reasons, I guess."
A little bit of stealthy courage leapt to Rodger's heart. "Is this trial by fire, too?"
She laughed. "Might as well be." Her entire manner seemed to get a little more sadistically playful. "What turns you on?"
The blush came back once again, with a vengeance. Did she expect him to tell her? Did she really want to know? "I'll tell you... if you tell me first."
"This is trial by fire." She assured. It was only fair, however. She sat way back, using her elbows to support her as she thought. Default answer to test the waters. "I guess I'll never know until I try it."
There was just something about her that gave him the strength to continue this conversation. He drawled slightly, "Oh no. That's the easy way out."
She glanced at him, almost seeming to study him as she thought. "Alright. I'll put it this way... romance only goes so far."
He chuckled, a seductive gleam in the corner of his eyes. He assumed he understood what she meant, but he wasn't sure. And she hadn't completely answered the question yet, on top of that. "Yes?"
"A little S & M and some light bondage, then." She finished simply. "You?"
By now, he knew very well that he shouldn't have been shocked. He was not, in fact. But he was a little taken aback by how absolutely bluntly she'd stated it; he wasn't used to a girl without games. His comfort level was dropping fast, but he held on for the ride. "I, uh... can't say I'm in any disagreement..."
Kyrie smirked playfully. "It's a trust issue most of all, I guess."
His heart was beating out of his chest. But this time he actually wanted to act on that response. "So..." he tried, delicately, "Do you trust me?"
Oh, that look. It resembled shock. Resembled, but was not. Some kindred to it, maybe, but... She sat up, getting just slightly closer to him in the process. "Is there a reason I shouldn't trust you?" she asked in a low tone, a sadistically gleeful look across her face.
Wow. But Rodger's adrenaline (not to mention testosterone) was pumping too fast to pause and consider that remark. He'd liked to have answered her in some verbal way. Really. But there were no words to suit the moment.
As much as there was a purely sexual attraction here, there was something else. Kyrie was not a slut, any more than Rodger appreciated the type. Sex was nice, sex was good, and there was obviously attraction. But there was actually something else, too. A... spark, if you will. Something absolutely shared without having to be spoken. And, frankly, it was kind of scary. But neither one of them really cared at that point. They weren't planning on going all the way. At least, not now. They just wanted to... feel around a bit.
The first kiss wasn't hardly as messy or awkward as Kyrie had always thought it would be. It was just... natural. She and Rodger had just happened to lean their heads in at the same time and... there you have it.
He pulled back for a moment, as if he'd just remembered something. "That was... alright, right?"
How sweet, really. Kyrie grinned and pulled him softly back into another kiss, quite a bit longer this time. She felt a slightly unsure hand press against the small of her back and smiled into his lips. Amazing what a little dirty conversation and a first kiss could do.
Jokingly she thrust her hand down the back of his pants, but his quiet moan caused her to decide to keep it there. He pulled back just to look at her. Just to look into her eyes, to see if there was a way to look past them and deeper. To grant permission to go a little further.
...and then the door buzzer sounded. The sudden influx of noise startled the two of them apart like light scattered roaches, and they looked at one another in surprise. It was three in the morning for crissakes. No one ought to be up at that hour. Not even security.
"It's Quistis." Kyrie whispered.
"How do you know?" Rodger quickly stood and straightened up.
"Because my dad called her to check on me." She murmured.
To his own astonishment, a grin broke across his face. "And how do you know that?"
She glanced over, a smile hidden somewhere in her eyes. "Because I know how his sick little mind works." She threw him a book and waved in the general direction of her desk before straightening her hair. With no more warning, she opened the door and hoped she was fully presentable.
It was Quistis alright. "Just stopping by to check on you, Kyrie." She announced with a little too much authority. "May I come in?"
What was she going to say? No? "Of course, Quisty." She stepped aside.
Quistis looked uninterested enough, but she knew better. Rodger still had a creeping blush on his face. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head, trying very hard to stop herself from smiling. "I bet your parents wouldn't appreciate this, young lady." She cleared her throat, desperately trying to be serious. "I thought I had your assurance."
To her own surprise, Kyrie looked a little astounded herself. Maybe this romance thing had its merits somehow after all. "Powerful stuff, this."
Quistis couldn't help it. She covered her mouth but the laughter still escaped triumphantly.
Kyrie stood at weak attention with her hands behind her back, fighting to retain absolute composure. A smile did crack through, but that didn't really incriminate her. "Forty lashes, is it?"
Quistis straightened up and shook her finger, still fighting back laughter. "Use discretion, young lady."
"I will take your birds and bees speech to heart." Kyrie assured, dropping her head so that her hair covered the deviously growing smile.
"Your father could kick all of our asses." Quistis joked. She knew Kyrie well enough to know she wouldn't let it get "that far". At least, not without proper health and protection precautions. But she still felt she had to be a slightly motherly figure in this instance. Even if she did find it really funny.
"None of you need worry." Kyrie assured, feeling Rodger's intense blush from across the room.
Quistis nodded. "But I must do my duty. So why don't you two say goodnight."
"Thank you, may I have another..." Kyrie murmured as she walked her aunt back outside the door.
Quistis grinned, keeping her voice low. "Is it safe to say you have a boyfriend, then?"
Kyrie chuckled darkly. "Yeah, I think so."
The instructor crossed her arms and nodded. "I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. You better be good."
"Always, Quisty." Kyrie smiled. "Do tell me I can accompany him to his room for a goodnight kiss at least."
"And that's it." Quistis tried to be firm. In truth, she was thrilled. About damn time one of her match makings panned out. And for her niece, of all people... "Good night. Both of you." She grinned and walked down the hall.
Kyrie glanced into her room, seeing Rodger with the remnants of a blush still on his face, getting up to go back to his roommate's snores. Well, that was a fun experience...

The loud, grating sound of snoring erupted from the door as it slid open. Rodger cringed a little, still unused to the sound. At least it would assure the privacy of their conversation. "I'd invite you in, but..." he joked.
Kyrie waited for the last snore to die down before she attempted to respond. "Makes me glad to be spoiled."
He grinned. "Well, I... guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"For lunch, at least." Kyrie agreed.
He leaned in close to her ear, taking a large chunk of his courage to speak. "I'm kind of disappointed she didn't choose the forty lashes."
"Ooohh." She responded as quietly and flatly as she possibly could. Kinky. She kinda liked that. She woke quickly from her mental pictures and allowed herself a rather vicious grin. "Damn, boy."
He used his best dashing smile on her. "Just a thought."
"One that will keep me coming back." She added playfully, but sincerely.
Oh good, he hadn't scared her off. Though he was pretty certain it would have taken quite a bit more to have done that. "One last kiss for the night?"
"No need to ask so nicely." She grinned almost viciously, silencing any response he had with his very request. It was slow, sweet, and orderly. Quite nice, really.
But Rodger decided, just for the time being, to take her words to heart. Certainly there wasn't much they could get away with at this point in time, but there was nothing wrong with a kiss in the hallway, outside his door. Without warning, he gently tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her in again, the kiss this time leaving just a little sting.
...whoah... "Fast learner." She complimented quietly.
He smiled widely. "One more thing, though."
Kyrie raised her eyebrow just slightly, wondering what the hell else this boy was capable of getting away with in a Garden hallway. She sure as hell didn't expect what was coming, not in a million years or sordid guesses; he just hugged her. It was nothing super-nova romantic, but it wasn't a courtesy hug, either. It was just... really nice.
"See you tomorrow." He squeezed gently, then released. He wasn't really sure what had driven him to do that, but he wasn't about to deny the instinct to do so. He'd already let go of a hell of a lot he'd always held back, so why hold back something so small and simple as a hug?
"Definitely." She responded, her hands lingering over his arms for just a moment. More sparks had flown with that hug than with even the kiss; they were different sparks, though. Just as wonderfully intense, but... different. Familiar, desired, and yet... strange. But she didn't want to start thinking all of this right in front of his door. Not when his roommate had begun snoring even louder, threatening to wake up everyone in Garden. "Lunch, at least."
"You bet." Rodger agreed instantly. That strange little electrical bolt had gone through him, as well. But the entire thought process would probably have to wait until after the snoring was over. Whenever that happened.

She laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The thought that kept persisting; That was so strange. But good. But strange. If he'd hoped to accomplish her continuous thought of him, he had succeeded more than his wildest dreams. She'd have to talk to that boy at lunch.