A/N: Yep, don't own it. Not a bit. So sorry. You know I'd share if I did own them.
A/N 2: This is going to run a little differently from my other fics, mainly due to the extensive amounts of wansty character torture that is going to happen. So to keep things easy, the story is rated R, but each chapter will have its own rating.
Rating: PG-13. Why? You'll see….
This was, admittedly, not how he would have chosen to spend his eighteenth birthday. Drinking, partying, and oogling at the new strip club Sin-fully Delicious in the skeazier part of town. But then, he reflects, he had spent his eighteenth birthday on a boat crossing the ocean to confront the ruler of the New World Order – a group of fascist extremists determine to take over the world, led my a man-fiend calling himself Sin. But he had promised his teenage charge that he could celebrate how he wanted, and if the boy wanted to celebrate in a strip club named for the facist that had been responsible for the death of his father, well that was his prerogative.
So here he was, the famed General Auron, hunching over a tankard of cheap beer in a cheap strip joint, pointedly ignoring absolutely everything about his surroundings, while his charge rubs up against all sorts of humanity on the dance floor. He picks up the clouded glass tankard, and stares into the watered down amber depths. He sets it back down silently on the filthy counter top without tasting it. He absolutely detests beer, but this place didn't serve anything weaker, and if he ordered something stronger, he would be compelled to drink it so as to try and tone down the throbbing noise, and all together overly informative smells of too many horny humans in too small a space. But he shrugs it off, it was an important night to his charge. Though Tidus isn't technically his charge anymore, but the boy would still need looking after, and he had promised his father that he would keep an eye on the kid.
Out of the crowd bobsTidus' spikey blond head, and he stops in front of his adopted father, beaming his little boy smile at absolutely everyone, from a combination of a little too much alcohol, and the girls dangling off his arms. "Hey, Auron, me'n' these girls are gonna celebrate. I'll be home later, m'kay?" He disappears back into the crowd before the former General can question exactly what he's doing right now, if not celebrating.
"Is something wrong with your drink, sir?" The barmaid, who probably doubles as a prostitute at this fine establishment inquires, perching on the edge of the counter top. Auron could almost admire her bravery, he wouldn't have sat on such a vile surface if someone had offered him a sack of gil. But the woman doesn't even seem to notice that she's sitting on wood smeared with vomit, spoiled drink spills, and unknown bodily fluids. He places her at a little older than twenty, a fairly pretty twenty, with pale skin, long dark hair, and blood colored eyes. Her long fingers fidget with a string of big purple beads, drawing attention to her ample cleavage, enhanced by a fur trimmed leather bodice and short skirt made of belts.
Auron offers a noncommitical 'nnh'. Instead of going away, the woman leans a little closer, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "That would be your son who was with the ladies?"
He grunts again, which she takes for affirmative. The woman straightens up, pushing a handful of braids behind her shoulder. "Don't let him get emotionally involved with them. They belong to Crowe. And he doesn't share."
"He can look after himself." Auron replies drily. This, of course, is not even remotely true. Tidus couldn't take care of himself at all, but it was none of this nosy busybody's business in the first place.
"I hope your right then." She leaves at the beckoning of another customer wanting a refill on his drink, leaving Auron alone with his thoughts.
It is nearly two in the morning, ridiculously late, or ridiculously early, depending on how literal minded you are, when one of the girls who had been serving as accessories to Tidus pops up out of no where. The barmaid had referred to her as one of Crowe's girls, at least.
"Hiya!" She bounces on the balls of her feet, causing her breasts to jiggle around. Had it been a little less obvious, he would have been quite interested. "Tidus told me to find you. Make sure you're having a grand old time, and all that." She smiles sweetly, while delivering this announcement. "Hiya, Lulu!"
The barmaid raises a fine dark brow at the girl. "You should be working, Rikku."
The girl, Rikku, bounces again, grinning ear to ear. "I am, though!" She protests, thrusting her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I'm still being paid by that blond Tidus guy. Is he your son? Is he really the famous blitzball player?" Lulu doesn't seem fazed by the sudden change of topic, nor the barrage of questions now being pelted at Auron.
"Adopted."
"Ooooh." She plops down in the stool beside him, scooting it closer than is strictly necessary. "Are you having a good time, then? I'm supposed to make sure you do. Anything I can do to goodify your evening? Anything you want to do?" He was surprised. Somehow he had never believed that a hooker could say anything without adding at least a certain measure of innuendo. Her hand squeezes his knee. Oh. So his initial belief had probably been right, to at least some degree. He looks up and finds himself reflected in huge green eyes.
"I'm fine." He pointedly removes her hand from his knee, trying to ignore the protesting of his body. Despite the fact that she couldn't be more than sixteen, his hormones were shouting that he would be having a much better evening if she would come sit in his lap. He shakes his head and finally notices the small swirls in her eyes. The girl was Al Bhed. He didn't think any had survived the holocaust orchestrated by Sin.
"Oh. Aren't you supposed to be working tonight, Lu?"
"Our lovely manager gave me the night off." Both girls laugh at some hidden joke, which evidently is painful, leaving Auron quite thoroughly in the dark.
"Well... I guess I should go back then." She hovers for a moment, before disappearing again.
"Who was that?"
"Rikku." The woman, Lulu, frowns. She has a pretty frown, a pursing of dark plum lips, brow knotting thoughtfully. "But don't get attached, sir. She's a good girl, but she's a prostitute, and one of Crowe's." She swishes off again, before he can pose any questions that she doesn't want to answer.
It is dawn, and then some, when a slender brunette half walks, half carries the blond eighteen year old to the bar counter, where Auron is dozing, both eyes open. She smiles shyly at Lulu, and brushes her lips against Tidus' cheek. "Would you please tell him I wish him a happy birthday?" She asks shyly, twisting the material of her thin white shirt with her hands. Before he can reply, she darts off into the thinning crowd, and he loses sight of her almost instantly, though the floor is mostly empty by now.
Lulu stares at Auron, and the snoozing boy in his arms, before dipping into the front of her shirt, pulling out a bit of paper and a pen. She scribbles something on it, before handing the warmed paper over to Auron. "I'll probably see you or your boy around. Keep your eyes open." She stares down at her fingers, mangling a wash rag. "If something happens to either of my girls because of you, you will regret it." There's nothing threatening about the comment, and Auron refuses to be cowed as he totes the boy to his car, though he can feel the red eyes boring into the back of his head.