Into Esthar

by Chemotaxis

Set two and a half years after the Second Sorceress War. Squall and Seifer have moved on with their lives, but a chance encounter in Esthar confronts them with their past. Yaoi. Seifer/Squall. Written by Wolkje & Chemotaxis. WIP.

37. The Sleeping Lion

~ Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Sleeping Lion ~

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[The Sleeping Lion, Winhill, Wednesday, 29th of October, 8:57 am]

Dark hair was the first thing that came into focus when Seifer opened his eyes. His face was buried in the soft locks and his left arm lay stretched across Squall's stomach. Curling closer around Squall's sleeping form, he let out a low hum of content. Last night had been the most slow and intimate sex he'd ever had. All of the fucking clichés he'd always rolled his eyes at had proven themselves true. It had been a revelation to be with someone like that.

Moving his free hand against Squall's skin by a few careful inches, he relished the feel before propping himself up onto his elbow and indulging in a closer study. In the days they'd shared a bed so far, he hadn't managed to wake up first even once. He'd make the most of it.

Squall's eyes were closed in sleep, the man's unruly hair all adrift and his chest slowly rising and falling. He carefully brushed away the most wayward strands from the scar he'd inflicted so long ago. He wanted to trace his finger along it just like he had the night before, but it would wake Squall and he had something else in mind for that. Sneaking his hand underneath the duvet, careful not to touch Squall, he inched closer to his goal. When positioned just right, he cupped the man's length, causing dark eyelashes to flutter. So fucking irresistible. Stroking gently, he watched avidly as Squall's features twitched while the man's cock swelled and grew hard.

Elusive dream images coalesced into something more urgent and tangible as Squall woke. He opened his eyes to a room he didn't immediately recognize, a hand familiarizing itself with his crotch. Startled, he grasped his offender by the wrist with bruising force. The hand fell idle, but warm lips pressed to his neck instead.

"Seifer," he murmured, releasing his hold as the short-lived rush of adrenaline left him.

He turned his head, feeling oddly self-conscious to find Seifer looking at him with rapt attention and a wide smirk. How long had the man been awake? Blinking the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he didn't feel inclined to move just yet. He was comfortable, warm and apparently, aroused. Lifting his head to instigate a kiss, he was instantly rewarded when Seifer resumed the slow pumping. His eyes drifted shut as the soft press of their lips turned into languid kissing. Unable to stay the motion, he bucked into Seifer's grip, the man responding with faster strokes.

Biting back a moan when Seifer broke their kiss, he remembered just in time to be silent as he thrust into the man's hand. His throat still felt hoarse from the night before, from holding back and constraining his voice. He hadn't known such a thing was possible, but Seifer was still consistently challenging his presumptions about sex. Even now, after another late night, Seifer's erection pressed against his thigh demandingly, the man's eyes darkening with arousal. Shifting onto his side, he gave Seifer's hard cock a firm stroke, the hand on his own length briefly faltering at the touch.

Seifer let out a low grunt, Squall's move effectively derailing his plans. He'd wanted to imprint every single detail of Squall's pleasure into his memory, but there was no way he could focus like this. If Squall was going to ruin his plan, he at least wanted something to show for it. Something he'd only sampled once before. After a few more thrusts into Squall's warm hand, he moved in on top of Squall and raised himself to his knees, his cock jutting out proudly between them.

Stiffening further under Squall's intent gaze, he moved closer and took hold of his cock, angling it down towards Squall's lips. He watched with bated breath as the man shifted to prop his head up with a pillow, approaching his request with a practical mindset and focus that was so Squall and entirely too fucking hot. When Squall's fingers took hold of his cock and guided him between those lush lips, he grit his teeth.

He cursed lowly. He was not going to last like this. Squall was alternating between taking him into his mouth and licking along his shaft and tip. Fuck. When Squall took in as much as he could, Seifer couldn't stop himself from pushing in further. He grunted and fell into a slow rhythm.

Squall grew unbearably hard as Seifer thrust into his mouth, a fevered edge creeping into the man's gaze. He did his best to accommodate the thick length, sucking and stroking with his tongue to bring the man as much pleasure as possible. He had considerably less control than the last time he'd done this, but he liked this vantage point; the sight of Seifer unraveling as the man fucked his mouth. Seifer was struggling to stay quiet, firm muscles and abs contracting with each barely controlled thrust in a way that had Squall's length twitching keenly with how sexy the man looked.

Seifer pushed his cock deep enough for Squall to feel its tip press against the back of his throat, deep enough to make it difficult to breathe. Still he tried to take more. Soft grunts were starting to escape the blond as his pace picked up the slightest bit, the erection in his mouth growing harder still. An uncomfortably sharp thrust was followed with thick fluid spurting down his throat, coating his tongue and robbing him of his breath. His hands shot up to grasp Seifer's ass as the man rode out his orgasm, heedlessly thrusting into his mouth a final few times. He swallowed every hot lashing of come and greedily let his tongue slide along the length of Seifer's spent cock when the man withdrew.

"Fuck, Squall," Seifer uttered under his breath. Squall's lips were still parted, slick with saliva and tinted red from the friction. Those gray-blue eyes were regarding him with expectation and need. Squall's fingers clenched around his buttocks again and there was no way he'd deny the man. He was going to give Squall exactly what he was begging for. "Turn around," he ordered, grabbing the lube from underneath a pillow.

Painfully hard, Squall turned onto his stomach and fumbled toward the floor for the discarded shirt they'd used the night previous. Not as bothered with precautions, Seifer tugged at his hips impatiently. The moment his hand closed around the rather dirtied item, he rose onto his knees and quickly laid out the shirt beneath him. Behind him he heard Seifer uncap the lube, followed by a rough hand settling on his buttocks, the man's other hand working in a slippery finger without warning or regard for the ache last night's activities had caused. His length jerked in anticipation at the forceful handling, the lubed up finger withdrawing after only a perfunctory few swipes. It told him exactly how this would go.

When Squall lowered his chest and rested his head on the pillow in readiness, Seifer took hold of his cock and pushed inside. He groaned lowly, his eyes falling shut in pleasure, then repeated the move, more forcefully this time. Grabbing hold of Squall's hips, he thrust faster—as fast as the bed would allow without creaking. Squall's breathing was already labored and the man's features flushed. Squall wouldn't last long. He wouldn't last long himself either, despite just having come. There was nothing like a rough morning fuck and nothing like being buried deep inside Squall. Mere moments ago the man's pout lips had been spread tight around his cock, and now he was ramming himself into the man's clamping hole.

He sped up, unable to stop himself from settling into a fevered rhythm and chasing every one of Squall's breathless, silent gasps with increasingly rough thrusts. The thundering of his pulse and the slapping of their skin was all he could hear, the squeeze of Squall's ass all he could feel.

Clenching his fingers into the sheets, Squall encouraged Seifer's every move with a backward thrust of his own, seeking to be fucked more thoroughly. Seifer's cock stroked him deeply and roughly, with a speed that was finally giving him exactly what he wanted. No frustratingly gradual buildup. No restraint. Just raw feeling. He was so close, straining for every sensation that rushed him towards orgasm. When he was plunged over the edge, the strength of his release temporarily obliterated all else as Seifer rode him to mindless completion.

When the last twitches of his orgasm receded, he became distantly aware of the creaking complaints of the bed. The sound of his own panting breaths started to seem loud, and he couldn't recall whether he'd stifled his voice or not. Biting his lower lip, he tried to gather his wits, but all of his senses were intent on Seifer's pleasure. The man's thrusts were rocking him and the bed alike, faster and faster, satisfying and alarming him in equal measure. He stifled a gasp when Seifer came inside him with the roughest plunge yet. The creaking of the bed stuttered in tandem with Seifer's last few rutting motions, until there was only the sound of their labored breaths.

All of last night's caution and restraint, undone in just one moment of weakness. Propping himself up unto his elbows, Squall hung his head as he reclaimed his breath while desperately hoping their lapse into debauchery had gone unnoticed.

Breathing hard, Seifer gently guided Squall forward. The sight of his cock slowly sliding out of the man, along with the soft hiss that left Squall, had him yearning to ravage the man all over again. His come started seeping out, leaving a white trail down the man's perineum. He slid in a couple of fingers, entirely fascinated by just how wet and loose Squall was after being fucked so hard.

"Cure?" he asked, his gaze locked on where even more come followed his fingers out.

Squall didn't need to think about his reply as he eased himself down onto the bed and turned to look at Seifer. "No."

Smirking, Seifer bent down for one more kiss before pushing off the bed and heading for the sink. Either Squall loved a well-fucked ass, or the man was being a stubbornly principled fuck who wouldn't waste a Cure on something as frivolous as sex. Either way, Squall would be reminded of him all day; a thoroughly satisfying thought. Turning on the tap, he waited for the water to heat up before grabbing one of the towels Ellone had set out. The sound of the gurgling water reverberated loudly in the small guest room, and when Squall pushed out of the bed, there was a definite creak. Everything seemed loud in the silence that followed their loss of composure.

Had Ellone heard them? He hadn't been able to make out any sounds of her puttering about the house after waking up. Maybe she was out on an errand. Then again, he might just have been too wrapped up in Squall for anything else to register. Would Squall be annoyed if she found out? He looked over at the brunet after finishing his quick clean-up. He wasn't going to apologize for losing control like that, not when Squall had clearly enjoyed every last forceful thrust.

He walked over to his duffel bag and grabbed some clothes. Donning them, he watched as Squall grabbed a towel and headed towards the door, on his way to take a shower. "I'll see you downstairs," he said, their guilty gazes briefly lingering on one another before the man left the room. He smirked when a few moments later he could hear the muted sound of spraying water. Squall had looked just as unrepentant as he felt.

Sighing at the prospect of having to keep his hands to himself for the remainder of the day, he swallowed his morning dosage of meds before grabbing his toiletries. It would be hard to pretend nothing was going on between them, that he didn't want to constantly feel Squall up. And that was if Ellone hadn't already caught on. If she had, then it'd be even harder. He highly doubted Squall would approve of him kissing or feeling the guy up in front of his sister. At least he had his initiation as a bartender to look forward to.

It'd be fun to learn how to keep a bar and entertain the patrons. He'd applied for a few jobs as a bartender back in Esthar after he'd first arrived, but no-one had hired him. Probably didn't help that he'd looked like a bum at the time. Spitting minty toothpaste into the sink, he rinsed his mouth and ran a wet hand through his hair as he inspected himself in the mirror. He definitely didn't look like a bum anymore. The locals wouldn't know what hit them. Opening the bedroom door with a wide smirk, he headed downstairs.

When he reached the floor below, he studied the living room that had been obscured by darkness when Ellone had shown them upstairs the night before. In the light of day everything was plain to see. A fireplace with a cozy couch opposite it made up the focal point of the room. Two armchairs were placed to the sides and an arrangement of fresh flowers sat in a vase atop the coffee table. Several bookshelves lined the walls, completing the cozy feel. It felt welcoming and warm, just like every other part of Ellone's home.

The sounds of Ellone busying herself with breakfast reached him from an open door to his right, along with all sorts of appetizing scents, but the mantlepiece drew his gaze instead. A series of framed photographs were placed on it.

Walking closer, he took his time perusing the photos. A recent one of Laguna was the first one to catch his eyes. Couldn't have been taken more than a couple of years ago. The next photo was of a younger Laguna standing next to Ellone back when she was a kid. Then Squall. All dressed up in uniform and looking off camera. It must have been taken shortly after the war, judging by Squall's shorter hair. Probably a post-war gala of some sort. A different life. Ignoring the painful twinge it caused in his chest, he looked at the next photo; the one that took up the central position on the mantelpiece.

His breath stuck in his lungs. The young woman in it looked so much like Squall. Raine. Her eyes were soft and gentle. She'd been caught with a smile on her lips while arranging some flowers. There was no way the president wouldn't be reminded of her every second he spent with his son. His gaze traveled to the photo beside it. A wedding photo. Laguna wasdressed in a tuxedo, smiling ear to ear and beaming with pride as he held Raine close to his side. She wore a simple white dress, a bouquet of white flowers in her hands. They looked happy.

He wished he could have met her. The woman who'd given birth to the frigid nuisance of his teenage years and the savior of the world. His rival and sparring partner. The only person to make him fall stupidly in love.

Turning away from the photos, he focused on the promising smell of sizzling meat. His stomach gave an insistent growl, urging him towards the kitchen. Inside, the small room was alive with the clattering of utensils and the loud whirring of the range hood. Loud enough for their morning activities to hopefully have gone unnoticed.

"Morning," he said, testing the waters.

Ellone looked over her shoulder, a smile in place. "Good morning."

The cheery greeting that was completely free of reproach or embarrassment told him they'd managed to dodge that particular bullet. Thank Hyne for the range hood. Happy to be spared any awkward explanations, he strode over to the table laid out with a plethora of options for breakfast. It all looked mouth-wateringly good. "Just when did you get up?"

"What, this stuff?" Ellone dismissed humbly. "I've prepared it so many times by now, I could do it in my sleep." She returned her attention to the sausages frying in a royal amount of grease. "But what about you two? I was expecting you to sleep in."

"We did and Hyne, we both needed it," Seifer admitted, eyeing the freshly made pancakes placed right next to his favorite syrup. "Mind if I tuck in?"

"Go right ahead and help yourself."

"Think I'll be starting with these babies," Seifer said, placing three large pancakes on his plate.

Ellone laughed softly. "Don't forget to leave some room for sausages." As if to provide incentive, she flipped them over with a satisfying hiss of juices.

"Don't worry, I will." Seifer squeezed out a good helping of syrup onto his pancakes and cut off a large bite. "I'll leave some room for eggs as well. Not sure I'll be able to move after this though."

"That's the whole point of a traditional Galbadian breakfast," Ellone said, a twinkle to her eyes. "They'll be done any second now." Spatula held idly in her hand, she waited for the other side of the sausages to brown and looked at Seifer. "So if this counts as sleeping in, what time do you usually get up?"

Seifer poured himself some freshly squeezed juice and took a sip. "I usually don't get up until nine. I start work at ten," he explained. "But with Squall staying with me, we try to fit in some training in the morning."

"Oh dear," she said with a soft laugh. "Squall's routines have already taken over yours then?"

"A bit of both," Seifer said, cutting off another large bite of his pancake. "We're both eager to train and I'm a busy man. Only so many hours in a day."

She gave a thoughtful nod. "Uncle Laguna told me you two are sparring partners. He was quite impressed with the show you gave him. He couldn't stop talking about it."

"The old man had to give up about halfway through though. Missed out on the really good stuff." He paused to wash down the pancakes with another gulp of juice. "When you're completely worn out, when you have to fight just to keep the blade steady, that's when the magic happens." Not that they'd reached that point at the palace. He'd been far too distracted. "That's also when you get scarred," he added with a chuckle, remembering the feel of Lion Heart's sharp edge pressing into his throat.

Ellone shook her head at learning that Seifer shared her brother's brazen foolishness. "Good thing Uncle Laguna didn't have to see that then. That man has a protective streak like you wouldn't believe." She smiled before turning around and moving the frying pan off the fire. "He told me the same thing about you."

"Someone's gotta look out for his ass. And I'm sure you're the same," Seifer returned, looking over at her.

Switching off the range hood, Ellone turned to meet Seifer's gaze. "I suppose I am. No matter what he's told you, he is my little brother."

"Laguna said as much." Seifer smiled softly. "Not sure we've got much to worry about though with him being a world famous fighter and all."

"I suppose so," Ellone said with a smile. Catching the eager look sent the sausages' way, she put two on a small plate and set them in front of him.

"Been a while since I had Galbadian sausages," Seifer said, eagerly replacing his now empty plate with the one Ellone had prepared for him. He added a big dollop of ketchup. "These smell great. Galbadians sure know how to prepare their meat."

Ellone looked on in satisfaction as the blond started on the sausages. When the water pipes stopped gurgling in the background, she raised her eyes to the ceiling and stirred into sudden movement. "I almost forgot!" If she'd learned one thing from Squall's previous stay with her, it was that coffee made up half of his breakfast. Retrieving a tin of ground coffee, she tipped a royal amount into the coffee machine. "Do you want some too?"

"Don't think I'd survive without it," Seifer said with a smile, before looking at her more intently. He needed a private word with her and he was running out of time. "So before he comes down, I wanted to ask you… You sure you're okay with this? With what we're planning on doing?"

Pausing for the briefest moment before she switched on the coffee machine, Ellone turned around and leaned back against the counter. "...I'll be honest with you. I am concerned. I've stopped looking into the past a long time ago because it's rarely done me any good. But I understand it's different this time. Maybe this time my powers will actually help make a difference. I'm doing this for you every bit as much as I'm doing it for Squall. I want to help."

Unable to find a single reason why she would be doing something of that magnitude for him of all people, Seifer scrunched up his brow. "Why?"

Ellone frowned slightly, the question catching her off guard. She took a moment to form a reply. "In a way my powers caused the Second Sorceress War, and they would have made the first one a lot worse if Uncle Laguna hadn't found me in time... For as long as I can remember, everybody I ever cared about got involved because of me. I know a thing or two about feeling guilty and powerless. I don't want that for you."

Seifer nodded, not having considered anything along those lines. He would never blame her for any of it.

Upstairs a door opened and closed, footsteps moving away from the bathroom. Ellone smoothed out her frown and returned to her seat across from Seifer. Reaching over the table, she placed a hand on top of Seifer's. "We'll figure it out, you'll see," she said, giving a gentle squeeze. "I trust Squall. You should too."

Seifer huffed softly at the advice, before looking up to meet Ellone's gaze. "I do," he said with a nod. "And you." He withdrew his hand and raised his voice. "You'd better hurry, Princess, or the food'll be long gone by the time you get here. Even tastier than at the Palace."

Ellone's smile returned. "Flatterer." When Squall appeared in the doorway, a single eyebrow raised high at the amount of food stacked onto Seifer's plate, Ellone got up to usher him inside. "Let me get you two some coffee."

Giving her a nod, Squall sat down at the table and tried to look unaffected by the beaming smile Seifer sent his way. Behind him, Ellone rummaged through a cupboard, porcelain mugs clinking in her hands. Neither of them seemed put out or uncomfortable, leading him to hope Ellone hadn't overheard them after all.

"Had a good night's rest?" she asked.

An innocent question, completely devoid of any innuendo. Relieved, Squall considered it and realized he'd slept much better than he had hoped to, though he would never admit to the reason. He actually felt awake and alert for once. "I did."

"Is the guest room the one Laguna used to stay in?" Seifer asked, watching Ellone fill two mugs with steaming coffee. "Before he worked his way into the master bedroom that is," he added with a quirk of his lips.

Squall scowled at the imagery he could do without. He'd already seen more than enough from that particular past. As Ellone walked past him to place their mugs on the table, he could tell the blond's remark had flustered her. Unlike the others from their gang, she hadn't had quite as much exposure to Seifer's cruder ways.

"Well," Ellone started, sitting down at the table, "I'm afraid it wasn't quite like that." She poured herself a glass of orange juice as her gaze grew fond. "Raine let him stay in the guest room while he was recovering. But as soon as he was on his feet, he got kicked to the curb." She smiled wistfully at the memory. "She said she could do without freeloaders taking up her time. So he moved in next door and showed up on her doorstep every morning after. Did whatever chore she set out for him."

Laughing softly, Seifer imagined Laguna's eager expression as the man stood there, day after day. It was much easier to imagine than the man leading a country. "He did sound rather whipped when he spoke about her," he said with a big smile, reminded of how Laguna had talked about running errands in Winhill with an air of experience. "Still wears his wedding ring and all."

Ellone rose an eyebrow, mouthing the word 'whipped' with a headshake. "I'd call it romantic," she admonished. "It took him a day to win her heart, but months to get her to admit it." The way she spoke the words betrayed how she considered it an ideal love story. "Let me guess, you're a cynic when it comes to love?" she asked Seifer, whilst subtly nudging the stack of pancakes her brother's way.

"A realist, perhaps," Seifer said, lifting the plate of pancakes that was slowly making its way towards Squall and holding it out to the brunet. "Had three already. You don't want to miss out."

Starting from his absent-mindedness, Squall frowned at the food being practically shoved under his nose. "Looks like you had more syrup than pancake," he commented dryly, glancing at the sticky mess that was Seifer's first plate before taking two pancakes.

"Try it and then talk," Seifer said as he grabbed the syrup and held it out to Squall as well.

"No thanks," Squall replied disinterestedly, reaching for the scrambled eggs instead. He doubted he'd be able to stomach something so tooth achingly sweet.

"Your loss." Seifer returned his attention to Ellone. "So, you're waiting around for Prince Charming then? Believe in love at first sight and all that?"

Ellone shrugged, taking her serving of pancakes. "I've seen it firsthand, so I think it's possible, but that stuff is for the lucky few. If I'd get a say in it, I'd choose a calm love. Someone to grow old with in peace. I don't think I could handle the heartbreak that comes with a whirlwind romance." She didn't ever want to go through what Uncle Laguna had gone through; what he was still going through. To this day he remained loyal to Raine, choosing his memories and celibacy over someone new. Shaking the sad thought, she summoned a smile. "What are the expectations of a realist like?"

"Well, first of all, isn't the whole point of believing in romance and love at first sight that it will last beyond the first couple of weeks of screwing each other's brains out?" Seifer asked, before pointing his fork in Ellone's direction. "Sounds like you're the cynic."

"Seifer!" Ellone exclaimed, wide-eyed, before muttering, "Looks like sweet talk isn't the only thing you're capable of." She pointed her own fork back at the blond. "For your information, I'd describe myself as careful. First see if the relationship stands a chance and then scre—" she grimaced and quickly started over "—move things along." Huffing softly to hide her embarrassment, she didn't dare look Squall's way.

Eyeing Ellone carefully, Seifer got the feeling he was looking at a bona fide virgin. "You're missing out, then." He put his elbows on the table, leaning in. "And what if you find someone who you get along with and everything seems perfectly fine, but then you get to the bedroom and find out they suck. No passion, no fire, nothing. That's way worse if you ask me."

Ellone opened and closed her mouth, before regaining some of her composure. "I guess I'd rather take a gamble with that than with my heart." She leaned in as well, her gaze devious as she met Seifer's. "Not everyone wants the same things from love. You'd do well to remember that, Mr. Almasy."

"Perhaps not. But if there's fire in the bedroom, then it'll be there outside of it too. Quick way to narrow down your options." He smirked at her. "Means you'll have way more fun on the way too," he added with a wink.

Ellone let out another huff and shook her head. "A convenient bit of reasoning. You almost managed not to sound like a hopeless playboy too," she replied tartly. Seeing Seifer's smirk widen at her statement, the man no doubt thinking her naïve, she glanced at her visibly uncomfortable brother and quickly added, "But enough about that. Since you're up earlier than I expected, can I assume you two are free to help out? Or do you have some of that morning training planned?"

"No plans," Seifer said, knowing full well they couldn't cast high tier spells or start summoning in the vicinity of Winhill without drawing a crowd. "Might as well make ourselves useful while we're here." He swapped his now empty plate for the one still covered in sticky syrup. "Right, Commander?"

Squall nodded, glad enough to get started on the day's workload if it meant he could sit out on any more uncomfortable conversation, but his thoughts betrayed him as they lingered on Seifer's statements. It was hard to tell how much of it had been provocation, but he'd guessed enough by now not to have any illusions about Seifer's recent past. Playboy indeed. For once he agreed with Ellone. He couldn't quite imagine going from casual partner to casual partner on a whim. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he focused on his food.

"Well, since you're so eager to go out of your way for me," Ellone started happily, regarding her distracted brother. "Squall, your list's on the fridge. You'll find everything you need in the tool shed like last time." She looked at Seifer then, sizing up her next volunteer. "Hmm, if you take the bar, I could make quick work of my inventory and put together my orders and bookkeeping for the next month... Ever worked behind the counter?"

Eager to have landed the chore he'd wanted the most, Seifer smiled at Ellone. "Can't say that I have, but I'll pick it up as I go along. Just show me the basics and I'll be fine."

Ellone glanced at the clock and gave a determined nod. "Then that gives me some time to train you. I'll have to teach you how to tap a decent draft beer, and how to pour as well. It's what you'll be doing most of the time."

"Sounds like a plan. Wouldn't want to disappoint the customers," he said with a wink before filling his plate with a third serving of food.

"As long as you're better at bar talk than Squall was, you'll do just fine."

Chuckling, Seifer finished his mouthful of egg before speaking. "Expect a full pub by the end of tonight. I usually draw a crowd," he boasted. "Can't wait to hear the stories the locals have to tell." He was especially interested in the ones pertaining to a certain president and the pub's previous owner.

"Well, you'll be hearing a lot about cattle then. And flowers. How to prune them, crossbreed them, fertilize them, you name it."

"Maybe I'll be the one telling stories then," Seifer replied with a shake of the head.

"You're probably right," Ellone said readily, already looking forward to it herself. "Winhill folk love to mine strangers that come through for gossip and tall tales." She looked at her brother with a smile. "I wonder if they'll remember to leave you alone after last time."

Squall let out a snort when he recalled the never-ending questions and attempts at conversation. "They can look for their entertainment elsewhere."

"They won't have to look far," Seifer said, happy enough to provide said entertainment, but for now he was more interested in finding out what Ellone had in store for Squall. Getting up as he finished the last bite of his pancake, he walked over to the fridge with his coffee mug in hand and tapped his fingers against the note hanging there. His grin grew along with each chore Ellone had put on the list. He turned to face the man. "Looks like you'll be busy," he said, already imagining the intense focus on Squall's face while the man was splitting wood. Now that was a photo op that shouldn't be missed. He leaned back against the kitchen counter. "You know, Quistis told me to catch some snaps of you."

Looking up from his breakfast, Squall frowned at the comment. So she'd bypassed him altogether, bothering Seifer with the unnecessary request instead. "It's you she wants pictures of," he corrected dryly, not hesitating to throw Quistis under the bus when she'd been going behind his back. "First step in herding you back to the flock."

"And I'll be more than delighted to announce my continued existence that way," Seifer said, feeling the same mischievous glee he'd felt the last time he'd pondered the opportunity. "But Quistis was the one to come up with the album title: Squall's first holiday ever." He smirked broadly at the irked expression on Squall's face. "I think it's apt."

Squall rolled his eyes, remembering how she'd said something along those lines to him as well. Quistis never knew when to leave well enough alone, and Seifer's ill-boding grin wasn't reassuring at all. "Take all the pictures you want," he said evenly. "Just leave me out of them."

"And where'd be the fun in that?" When Squall didn't say anything further, Seifer shook his head. "Shit Squall, don't be such a fucking sourpuss. Just let me take some pictures. You won't have to look at them."

"Why?" Squall asked dubiously. The man had never bothered with such sentimentality in the past.

"Because I want to," Seifer stated clearly. Squall could be beyond dense sometimes and the man was still eyeing him like he was the one acting weird. He didn't have a single photo of Squall, nothing from before the war and with all the secrecy surrounding Squall's identity nothing had made it into the press either.

Having looked on from the sidelines throughout their argument, Ellone felt compelled to fill the awkward silence that fell between the two men. "I wouldn't say no to some new pictures myself," she said with a smile, hoping to coax her brother into a more tolerant attitude. "The most recent ones I have of you are from Uncle Laguna's birthday party last year."

Squall frowned as both of them ignored his clear objection. He didn't understand this need to capture a fleeting moment and hold on to it long after it had slid into the distant past. "Whatever," he muttered, getting up from his chair and walking past Seifer to take the list of chores from the fridge.

"Could you start with splitting the wood?" Ellone asked, intervening when it looked like Seifer was about to say something incendiary. "The logs have been laying there for a while and I don't want them to start molding." She stifled a sigh when her brother nodded stiffly and walked towards the door without another word to either of them.

"Hyne, he can be difficult," she blurted out once he was out of sight.

"Ain't that the fucking truth," Seifer agreed with a snort. Why the man wanted to avoid having his picture taken was beyond him. No way Squall was that fucking self-conscious. And it wasn't like he was demanding dick pics. Not yet at least. "Maybe he's afraid I'll catch his bad side," he said with a smirk.

Ellone let out a soft laugh. Regarding Seifer's smirk, she was relieved to see the man's good cheer despite Squall's less than stellar conduct. She supposed he was probably far more used to her brother's surly moods than she was. "He's always been peculiar about this," she said with a resigned shrug. "Selphie even put out a big reward for the first person to catch him smiling on camera. That was over a year ago now, but no luck."

Always ready to rise to a challenge, Seifer had just found his new goal for this trip of theirs. Couldn't be that hard to catch a smiling Squall. "Guess I'll just have to make my first photo upload even more memorable," he said with a sly smile, then downed the rest of his coffee and turned around to fill the kitchen sink with hot water.

"I'll raise Selphie's reward and hand over my best bottle of liquor if you pull that off."

"Surely it's been done before," Seifer said as he began washing the dishes. It'd be too fucking sad if there were no pictures around of Squall smiling. Hell, it'd probably become his favorite photo for jerking off.

"If so, I've never seen the proof," Ellone replied, moving to dry the clean dishes Seifer was setting aside. "And Selphie's definitely tried." In the end, anyone in Squall's orbit just had to accept that all of his emotions were filtered through a thick mask and hard exterior, be they joy or sorrow. At least she hoped that was the reason behind her brother's lack of smiles.

"What's Selphie's prize?"

"A hefty sum of Gil. She always has several bets going and she usually wins. She's been putting her winnings into several 'reward' funds. This challenge has been the longest running one, I think. She added a favor, to redeem at any time, if I recall correctly."

"Consider it done," Seifer said, already having a pretty good idea of when to catch his shot. Or rather, when to get Fujin to capture it. Squall had always found amusement in his suffering and he could take the beating to his ego if it meant succeeding where everyone else had failed. Maybe he'd actually be thankful for that pain in the ass chocobo after all. "I'll collect my winnings when we get back from our trip."

Glancing at Seifer as she put away the clean plates, Ellone smiled and found herself hoping the man would succeed, however unlikely. "Good luck."

"Won't need it," Seifer said, grabbing the frying pan to scrub it down. "Just gotta figure out which favor to claim." He didn't know much about Selphie, apart from what little Squall had told him and what he'd been able to put together from his conversation with Quistis and Squall. Apparently she was the kind of girl who loved explosions and extortion. He smirked at the thought. Could come in handy.

Falling into a companionable silence as they worked, they soon managed to clear the kitchen and store away the leftovers. "So, booze time?" Seifer asked, arching an expectant eyebrow.

Ellone nodded. "Let me give you the tour," she said, walking past Seifer and leading the way downstairs. Seifer's preference for bar duty had been rather obvious, but she was more than happy to show him the ropes and introduce him to her world. "First up is the storage room," she announced as she showed him into the dark, cool room that held her entire stock. "I'll be in here most of the morning taking stock, so if you need any help, I'll be right around the corner. Now here is where I store all my imported beers."

As she went over the basics and pointed out where all the different beers and liquors were stored, Seifer listened to her closely, asking perceptive questions that betrayed his genuine interest in her trade. She was pleased to have such a willing student, far more willing than her brother had ever been. If a task couldn't be approached with a gunblade, then Squall rarely cared. He'd always had that indifferent side to him. Seifer on the other hand had always taken notice of the world around him and the people in it, ever since he'd been a little boy at the orphanage. When he hadn't been off somewhere causing trouble or teasing the other kids, he'd often followed her around to bother her with one burning question after the other. Go find Squall, she'd often told him. Go play with him.

Her heart melted a little as that very same mischievous boy now stood before her a man, strapping and broad around the shoulders, his touch careful as he picked up an especially rare and expensive bottle of whiskey.

"Uncle Laguna sent me a whole crate of the stuff," she said with a shake of the head. "He told me it was part of some diplomatic palm-greasing that he couldn't afford to refuse. But there's no way anyone here will ever order a 2000 Gil bottle of whiskey, so I've been handing them out as birthday presents. That's the last one."

"Hold on to it. When I take the winning shot, that will be the best fucking prize," Seifer said with a nod at the bottle. "I have a weakness for whiskey."

"You have yourself a deal! No one will be able to say you didn't earn it." When Seifer let out a laugh, Ellone smiled as well and moved to the door. "I think that's it for in here. Let's head to the bar and I'll teach you how to use the taps."

"Sure thing, Ma'am," Seifer said, setting the bottle back down where he'd found it. Following her into the pub, he couldn't stop his gaze from traveling to where Squall was busy splitting wood in Ellone's backyard. Definitely a worthwhile photo op. Catching his gaze lingering, he moved to lean back against the counter.

Turning around to face her student, Ellone launched into the next part of her teaching. "The coolers behind the bar have all the bottled beers. I'm up to about twenty kinds by now. But most of my patrons will stick to the taps. I've got four fonts; the three usuals and one that I change up when I get an interesting keg." She pointed out each tap as she named the kegs they were connected to. "First up there's Amberval, that one goes fastest. These are Kilika Lager and Gold Saucer, and the special is an imported Nibelheim ale."

She turned to Seifer and fixed him with a mock stern look. "Now I know that in Esthar and Balamb people like their beers boring and foamless, but here in Galbadia, the rule of thumb is a two finger head for the taps. Each bottled beer comes with its own glass, and the hoppy ones have even thicker heads. If the head doesn't reach the rim, you're doing it wrong. My regulars will complain."

Picking up a glass from the shelves, she demonstrated the proper way. "Open the font nice and easy, glass at an angle, tilt midway for a smooth foam… and close the tap. This foam scraper is for when the head overflows. Probably better not to need it though, if you don't want to be teased." She held out the perfectly poured beer for Seifer's inspection, before unceremoniously dunking its contents into the sink. "Now you."

Seifer looked on with wide eyes as the last of the amber liquid disappeared. "Fucking Hyne, that's gotta be a sin."

"Students don't drink. Not until they master the craft," Ellone said with a knowing smirk. In her experience raising the stakes like that had always been an effective motivator.

Grabbing the glass, Seifer held it below the tap. "Sure. Traumatize your student by throwing away perfectly fine alcohol." Keeping his focus, he tried to imitate her moves, but ended up with far too much foam, loads of it spilling over and landing on the metal drip tray below. Bringing up the glass to his lips on reflex, catching the rest of the overflowing liquid, he downed a big gulp.

A firm smack of the metal foam scraper against his knuckles stopped him in place. Lowering the glass, he looked up with a guilty smile to find Ellone pointing at the sink. Letting out a groan, he dutifully poured the perfectly chilled and exceptionally tasty beer down the drain.

"You were too rushed and you overdid it on the angle. Ease into it," Ellone said, unable to hide her amusement. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

"Let's," Seifer agreed, stealing one more quick look of the enticing view outside before taking the glass from her hand.

His second attempt wasn't much of an improvement. Nor his third. But at least he'd managed to stay his urge to sample the goods. Another few tries and he was getting impatient, despite Ellone's helpful comments and encouraging words. It didn't make things any easier that Squall had taken off his jacket, a sheen of perspiration glinting against firm muscles as the brunet brought down the large maul and drove it deep into a log of wood. Forcing his gaze back to the tap, he tried his best to focus.

Watching approvingly as Seifer smoothly poured the dark ale and created a perfect two finger foam collar, Ellone was about to compliment the man when he tilted the glass a nudge too far and the foam started to spill over the edge. Jolting forward, she righted the glass. "Ah! You almost had it down too," she said with a sigh, before noticing just what had been distracting the blond.

"Crap." Seifer quickly stopped the tap and looked over at Ellone with a raised eyebrow. "Retry?"

"Retry it is," Ellone agreed, hiding the smile that threatened to break free at finding the blond sneaking glances at her brother again. She emptied the glass in the nearby sink, gave it a quick rinse and handed it back to Seifer. "You've got the knack for it now. Just focus."

Seifer nodded and placed all his attention on the task before him, doing everything the way she'd shown him; the tilt, the drop, the timing. Ending the pour just at the right moment, he smiled at the result. A perfectly smooth foam of just the right thickness, worthy of even the pickiest of patrons. Before Ellone could say anything, he held out his hand to silence her and lifted the glass to his lips. Taking a large sip, he let out a throaty hum. "Hyne, that's good."

Ellone shook her head at his antics. "Let's say you earned that one and not point out how early it is to be drinking already," she said fondly. Leaning against the counter, she watched Seifer enjoy his creation and smiled. "I'll make a bartender out of you yet. Took you only a little longer than Squall to tap a good draft."

"You saying the Commander is more of a natural than me? Can't be."

Ellone's gaze pointedly traveled to the brunet outside and back to Seifer again. "Maybe he was just less distracted," she commented with a twinkle to her eyes. "Afraid he'll chop off a hand if you don't keep an eye out?"

Prolonging his second swig of the ale, Seifer didn't look away from the brunet. "Just never seen him chop wood before. Didn't know he had it in him to do menial chores," he said, a grin spreading on his lips. "I've been cooking, cleaning, and waiting on his ass. Even been doing his laundry."

Ellone let out a soft laugh as she imagined Seifer's plight. Squall had never been much of a domestic type. "He's spoiled that way," she admitted fondly. She looked out the window, to where her brother was pulling his maul free from a persistent log of wood. "I haven't had a chance to thank you yet. For looking after him, I mean."

"It's the least I can do," Seifer said truthfully. "And I like having him around."

Wistful smile in place, Ellone didn't immediately reply. "Wish I could have him around more often too. That man's like quicksilver, impossible to tie down." She quirked her head to study the blond. "I'm impressed you've managed to keep him around this long."

"What, a whole week?" Seifer asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Mhm. And you're going hunting for another week. That's got to be a record," Ellone replied, smiling at such obliviousness. "It's not just me or this place, you know. His friends, his father, even Rinoa... He sticks around for a day or two, until he gets stir-crazy and moves on to the next mission."

"Maybe it's my unfailing charm," Seifer said, sending her a wink.

"It definitely isn't because of your modesty," Ellone huffed, her gaze trailing back out the window. "I guess he just feels best when he's out in the field."

Seifer hummed in agreement as his gaze dropped to his beer. Ellone was right. It was where Squall belonged. Squall had shown that during the war and every moment since. "At the rate he's going, he'll be back out there in no time," he said, unable to back the smile he put on with any real enthusiasm.

Taking another sip of his ale, he tried to ignore the almost palpable feeling of loss brought on by the thought of not having Squall around to pester every minute of the day. For all he knew, today could be the last day they'd spend together. But there was no point in worrying about it when he had no control over it. It was the same with the missions. He'd never be able to deny Squall those. He wouldn't even want to. Squall needed to do what he loved.

Watching as Seifer's smile faded too quickly, Ellone softly nudged her shoulder against his. "Hey, don't make that face. I can tell he cares about you." She stifled a smile when she spotted her brother quickly refocusing his attention on the chopping block in front of him. "And he's sneaking just as many peeks as you are."

Seifer scrunched his brow at the words. What the hell was she implying? His eyes drifted to Squall again and he immediately cursed the move.

"That fucking obvious?"

Humming a soft negative, Ellone tried to read the blond's reaction. "You might've fooled me, if I hadn't known to look for the signs."

Seifer raised his eyebrows. "You overheard us?"

"I didn't hear anything—" Ellone began, before catching on and flushing a deep red. "This morning I just wanted to check in on you guys and see whether I should start on breakfast early or not," she admitted, wincing in embarrassment. "I didn't knock because I didn't want to wake you in case you were still asleep. I didn't know I'd be intruding like that… Sorry."

Letting out a delayed chuckle, Seifer took great pleasure in imagining her expression upon opening that door. Any later and she would've walked in on something a lot more incriminating than them sleeping. "You missed out on the real show then."

Cheeks heating even further, Ellone looked away, only for her traitorous gaze to fall on her brother. So they had been naked underneath the duvet. Shaking the inappropriate thought, she instead recalled how endearing they'd looked, curled closely together in sleep on the narrow single person bed.

"...You and Squall," she said with a smile. Once the shock had worn off, she found she liked the idea of them together. There'd been more affection in that one sleepy embrace than in all of the rather one sided interactions she'd observed between Squall and Rinoa. "Am I the first to know?"

Seifer moved to lean back against the counter. "Almost."

"Uncle Laguna?" Ellone guessed. Even though the president hadn't hinted at anything of the sort after the two had stayed at the palace, she knew he could be observant.

A chuckle was Seifer's immediate reply. "Fuck no, Squall would have my balls if Laguna found out." His eyes danced in mirth as he remembered just how much they'd lost their composure, how he'd fucked Squall against the ballroom wall. "You think I'm going to have to flee Esthar if the President finds out?"

Ellone shook her head in reassurance, certain Uncle Laguna would only be accepting of Seifer. "He might have some back-pedaling to do though. He's concluded the two of you must be best friends, reunited at long last. The way he's got Kiros and Ward." She let out a soft laugh at the sudden image that popped into her head. "He'll probably get a leg cramp, so do wait until he sits down if you decide to break the news."

"A leg cramp?" Seifer asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yup. His right leg cramps up when he gets very nervous or overwhelmed," Ellone said, smiling broadly. She'd seen it many times firsthand, especially when Uncle Laguna had been courting Raine. "He's gotten a good handle on it since he became president, but Squall's managed to bring it out more than once."

Laughing at the very personal intel on the president, Seifer almost felt tempted to out Squall to his dad just to witness it himself. "Bet the Commander's glad it isn't genetic."

"Hyne forbid," Ellone said with an amused huff. "Sometimes it's a wonder they're related at all. Nature versus nurture, I suppose." She met Seifer's gaze with a wistful edge. "He can remind me so much of Raine though."

"Yeah?" Seifer asked, the comment immediately stirring his curiosity. "In what way?"

It was impossible to put into words some of the slight mannerisms that overwhelmed Ellone whenever she witnessed them. It went beyond the obvious physical traits Squall shared with his mother. A certain set to Squall's mouth when he felt cornered. The stubborn shine to his eyes. The way he could stare off into the distance.

"He wouldn't like to hear me say this, but he's just as impatient and stubborn as Raine was," she started with a smile, leaning back against the bar counter. "Uncompromising as well. Raine had her beliefs and she lived by them, no matter the cost. And she always preferred actions over pretty words." She laughed and met Seifer's gaze teasingly. "Uncle Laguna chose the right approach to turn up every day and show her he meant business. Might just be a good tip for you."

"Don't worry, I can be stubborn too," Seifer said with an easy smile, then quirked an eyebrow as he realized he'd been played. "You knew," he said, looking at her in playful accusation. "When we talked about love earlier you fucking knew about us. Even had me saying those things in front of him too, you sly minx."

Ellone shrugged with slight embarrassment, not feeling much guilt over the matter. "What kind of sister would I be if I didn't grill you?" she said, smiling again. "And whatever you said, you said all on your own. I actually tried to stop you from digging yourself in deeper."

"And what a great help you were too," Seifer said with a roll of his eyes. "I've got a reputation to maintain, you know."

Ellone shook her head at such counterproductive antics. "Well, you weren't impressing anyone." She jostled his elbow and gave him a pointed look. "And I doubt Squall shares the same philosophy."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He's sure as hell enjoying my philosophy for now," Seifer said with a mad grin.

Blushing a scarlet red, Ellone wondered how on earth she'd be able to put on a straight face when her brother came back inside. "You're a menace, Seifer Almasy," she chided. "You can try to shock me all you want, but you can't fool me. I know besotted when I see it."

Seifer held up his hands in mock capitulation. "I'm not denying anything."

"That's more like it," Ellone said, smiling broadly. "I have to say, I'm curious. How did you end up together?" To the best of her knowledge, Rinoa hadn't been out of the picture that long.

"Pure coincidence," Seifer said, trying not to think back on the exact circumstances too much. "We stumbled into each other in Esthar and one thing led to another. Wasn't exactly all sunshine and roses, but we pulled through," he said, looking at the man in question, unsure why he was telling Squall's sister any of this when things were still so precarious.

"Coincidence, huh?" Following Seifer's gaze out the window, Ellone studied her brother. The man was more impulsive than she had expected of him, getting involved with someone so quickly after the end of his last relationship. "So it's all still new?"

Seifer huffed, realizing just how ridiculous it all was. How smitten he was for how little time they'd spent together. And they weren't even together, hadn't discussed anything like that. They just had mad sex at every opportunity. "Four days," he admitted, not about to count their mishap with Avalanche and the days of confusion that had followed.

"Less than a week?" Ellone exclaimed, her eyes growing wide. "You guys sure move fast, don't you?"

"No point in wasting time," he supplied with a grin.

"Well, I suppose you've known each other for a long time," Ellone conceded with a shake of her head. Four days ago. That was around the time Squall had called her to ask for her help. It all made more sense now; his willingness to come to Winhill, his agitated words over the phone. The first time he'd visited her here had also been because of Seifer. Had he been in love with Seifer even then?

When Ellone didn't say anything further, Seifer eyed her closely. "Neither of us really knows what the hell is going on yet, so it's probably for the best if you keep this between us for now. Not sure how he'd react to anyone knowing."

"I'm no gossip," Ellone reassured, well aware that Squall wasn't the easiest of people. "I can pretend ignorance a while longer."

Seifer nodded, but couldn't suppress his growing frown. He didn't like keeping Squall in the dark and knew it would most likely come back to bite him in the ass, but there was no point in getting it out in the open when it might all be over in a matter of hours. "I'll be honest with you. If he sees anything from the war... I'll leave."

The serious statement brought a frown to Ellone's brow. "Do you mean you'll leave Winhill?" she asked, hesitating before adding, "... or him?"

"Both." His expression faltered, all of his earlier joviality gone.

Startled by the brevity of the reply, Ellone didn't immediately speak. She'd been nervous about using her powers for the first time in ages, but now the stakes were much higher than she'd previously assumed. Did the past pose such an insurmountable rift between them?

"I don't know everything about what happened," she started slowly, "but I do know what sorceresses are capable of and I know what I felt when Squall first asked me to find you." The hair on her arms raised at the memory of the eerie void she'd encountered and the wrongness that had emanated from it. "We'll get you the proof you need. Nobody will have to leave."

Hoping she was right, Seifer met her gaze. "You absolutely sure you're okay with this?"

"I am," Ellone said, sending him a reassuring smile. "I want to do whatever I can to help."

Seifer nodded slowly. He didn't look forward to it one bit, and talking about it or dreading it wouldn't make it any easier. "So what else do I need to know before your patrons arrive?" he asked instead, wanting to put the whole ordeal out of his mind.

"Next up would be the bottled beers, though I can't have you practicing with those," Ellone said, letting the man move on from the tense topic. "It's mostly the same technique as the taps." Resuming her explanation, she followed Seifer's return to a more lighthearted mood, but this time both of their gazes sporadically landed on the brunet laboring outside.

She vowed that this would not be the end of anything, not if there was any way she could prevent it.

~ o ~

[The Sleeping Lion, Winhill, Wednesday, 29th of October, 1:17pm]

Stacking the last piece of split wood in its proper arrangement underneath the lean-to behind the pub, correctly exposed to the sun and winds to dry, Squall wiped the sweat of his brow and shook out the stiffness in his arms. Looking at the fruits of his labor, he didn't feel much satisfaction. Used as he was to wielding a heavy gunblade, the repetitive motions of lifting and dropping the large maul had given him little challenge and little to distract his mind. One of Ellone's early patrons had even pointed out it was quite late to be chopping and seasoning wood, a task usually reserved for spring.

Apparently Ellone knew as well, a large stack of dry wood sitting neatly next to the freshly chopped one, covered with a tarp and ready for winter. Retrieving the crumpled note with instructions from his pocket, he eyed Ellone's list with a frown. Busywork, designed to keep him from running up the walls.

Letting out a sigh at the prospect of hours of tedious labor, he figured it was better than the work Seifer had been drafted into. Though from the looks he'd cast through the windows, the blond didn't seem to mind in the slightest. While he'd toiled away, splitting wood and ignoring errant greetings from the steady trickle of Ellone's arriving customers, Seifer had turned a slow weekday morning into the event of the year. Somehow word was spreading that Ellone had a 'handsome young man' tending the bar, or so an older woman had exclaimed animatedly as she and a friend had passed him by, into the pub.

The ease with which Seifer could carve out a place for himself in any setting was astounding. An excitable din of conversation and raucous laughter had reached him through the pub's front door all morning, and every glance through the windows showed Seifer smiling that charming smile of his as he entertained the curious locals and manned the taps with the confident swagger of someone who'd been running a pub for years. And his audience was eating it up. When presented with far more entertaining fare, most of Ellone's customers had gladly ignored him in favor of the new bartender. Seifer was the perfect lightning rod, allowing him to retreat into the background unchallenged.

Walking back to the chopping block to retrieve the maul and other tools, he considered what task to do next. Might as well dig out the dead tree root, and get it over and done with. Storing the tools he no longer needed in the shed, he was about to take the digging fork in hand when he heard the door to the shed open behind him.

"Lunchtime, Princess," Seifer said, letting his eyes roam the sight he'd been ogling all morning. "Ellone's made us beef skewers."

Squall suppressed a sigh as he turned to regard Seifer's broad smile. In order to avoid Ellone's patrons he'd hoped to sneak upstairs during a lull in the action at the pub and grab a quick bite in the kitchen, but no such moment had presented itself.

When Squall predictably didn't say anything, Seifer walked closer, quelling the strong urge to lean in and kiss the brunet. "Miss me?" he asked with an teasing glint in his eyes.

Squall held Seifer's gaze evenly at the far too assuming question. Every step Seifer took closer made it more difficult to maintain an unaffected front. "Hardly."

"Well, I've been waiting for this all morning," Seifer said with a mischievous smile as he grabbed hold of Squall's waist and pulled him closer—close enough for a deep kiss.

Allowing the forceful move, Squall met Seifer's lips eagerly. The man tasted of beer, a faint scent of smoke and tobacco clinging to his skin and hair, but Squall quickly became incapable of paying attention to such things as Seifer's tongue stroked against his demandingly. Groping hands grew overly daring in their path down to his ass, escalating matters further. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Seifer's shoulders and indulged in a heavy make-out session.

When Seifer began to shuffle them backwards toward an old tool bench however, the blond's hands traveling lower to hook underneath his thighs, Squall had just enough presence of mind to break the kiss and halt the man in his progress.

"Lunch," he reminded.

"Spoilsport," Seifer said as he looked Squall up and down. "Guess you can't walk in there with a limp, looking well fucked."

When Squall rolled his eyes and pushed past him, Seifer didn't follow. There was something else he wanted to discuss first, while they were still alone. "I don't have any photos of you."

Frowning at the return of an issue he thought they'd put to rest, Squall let his hand fall away from the door handle and turned back around to face Seifer with a dissuading stare.

"Just what's the harm in a photo or two?" Seifer said, feeling increasingly exasperated.

"It never stops at one or two," Squall said evenly, not in the mood to explain. All pictures were doomed to become relics of the past, and in his case, those reminders were more often painful than not. And whenever he was confronted with more recent pictures that included him, it always made him feel like the odd one out. The awkward addition to a group of smiling people. "Why does it matter?"

Grimacing at the question that betrayed just how little Squall understood what this meant to him, Seifer looked at him earnestly. "I want to remember this. I want more than just the scar."

Even if it ends badly? The question lingered on Squall's tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to utter it. Not when Seifer's honest words resonated with him more than he wanted to admit to. The gentle touch Seifer had trailed along his scar the evening before gained more significance, and he almost raised a hand to the marred skin between his eyes.

Seifer took a step closer, encouraged by the lack of immediate dissuasion. "I won't bother you with them."

Feeling self-conscious in the face of Seifer's adamancy, Squall didn't know what to think of the man holding on to pictures of him like that. Like the pictures Loire kept of his long dead wife, or the pictures taken at the orphanage, cherished by all his friends. He hated the thought of ending up as nothing more than a still image when all other connection was lost.

He also hated the thought of them disappearing from each other's lives, no trace left of what they'd shared.

Unable to reconcile the contradicting feelings, Squall let out a sigh and decided to follow Seifer's lead, as he had ever since they started this thing. "Do what you want. You always do."

A grin grew on Seifer's lips. "And you rarely complain about it."

Before Squall could say anything further, Seifer closed the remaining distance between them and snuck in another kiss. It was a rush every single time Squall gave into him, be it photos, kisses or mad sex, but just as he felt his length stir, Squall stepped out of reach. The man had clearly caught on. If they stayed a moment longer, then he'd have Squall on that tool bench regardless of how incriminating it'd look.

Letting out a disappointed groan, he followed Squall out of the shed and towards the pub, where he could see Ellone waving them in impatiently through the window. Her gaze was followed by the villagers he'd just been talking to, all of them perking up at their approach.

"No rest for the wicked," he said with a grin, jostling Squall's shoulder as he opened the door to the pub.

~ o ~

[Winhill, Wednesday, 29th of October, 2:26 pm]

Cobblestones gave way to unpaved dirt roads as Squall crossed the small wooden bridge that led out of town. The gaze of curious onlookers prodded his back, adding speed to his trek across the small plaza and out onto the road. Beneath the bridge the shallow river murmured quietly, swaying the few boats moored to the stone quay. He ignored the lone fisherman seated in one of them, waving him over, as he had ignored all other people trying to strike up a conversation with Ellone's visitors. It was a small saving grace that Seifer had attracted most attention so far. Most of Ellone's regulars still remembered him from last time, but Seifer was a true novelty. New faces were a rarity in Winhill, and the locals seemed perpetually hungry for a change of pace.

It grated at his nerves like nothing else. He was just one well-meaning encounter away from snapping at some hapless flower breeder or farm hand like he had last time. On top of that, Winhill was peaceful and wholly unremarkable, which meant the town had nothing to offer in the way of distractions. If not for Seifer or the many chores Ellone had set him up with, he'd have been bored out of his mind. Even the Bite Bug populations had dwindled down to nearly nonexistent thanks to monthly SeeD sweeps of the surrounding countryside.

But what the town lacked in local fauna, it surely made up for in annoying townsfolk. News had traveled even faster this time and it seemed like the whole town had shown up, feeling entitled to a piece of their time and attention. Whatever hope he'd had for a quiet lunch had quickly been crushed the moment they'd stepped inside the pub. While they'd sat down at a table off to the side, Seifer's new friends hadn't caught the hint and had insisted on continuing their earlier conversation with the blond, even if they had to loudly convey it from where they were seated at the bar. At least Seifer had been there as a buffer.

He hadn't missed how the man had deftly steered the focus of conversations away from him whenever he'd neared the limits of his patience. The locals had warmed to Seifer almost instantly and somehow the man's likeability had rubbed off on him by mere association. So far he'd been met with decidedly less disapproving looks than during his last visit, his aloof nature forgiven more readily. All of it made their stay slightly more tolerable than when he'd been here by himself.

Jaw locked tight, he dug his hands into his pockets, a strong autumn wind pulling at his jacket and throwing his hair into disarray. Seifer wasn't the only one running interference either. The moment he'd finished his food, Ellone had hustled him out of the pub with a reminder of where to find Raine's favorite flowers. That had taken him off guard. He'd grown used to Ellone tiptoeing around the whole family farce, but it seemed that Seifer's presence and the promise Loire had wheedled out of him had made her bolder. Pulling his fur collar closer around his face, he quickened his step. Better to get it over with, rather than withstand the sad looks and mountains of reminiscing stories his refusal would inspire.

Stepping into the small flower shop just out of town proper, he managed to silence an animated conversation between the elderly shopkeeper and another local. Both women stared at him unabashedly as he walked up to them, much as everyone else had up to now. The shopkeeper blinked when he pointed out the white flowers on display by the window.

"A bouquet of those."

The old woman spent another moment staring at him, studying his face a bit too closely for comfort, before she smiled wistfully and started an elaborate process of fussing and picking through flowers that all looked identical to him. All the while he could feel her friend's gaze on him. By the end of the unnecessarily long ritual, the shopkeeper's eyes had moistened as she presented him with a delicately wrapped bundle of flowers.

"Those are on the house."

Frowning, he reached for his wallet. "I'll pay—"

"Nonsense," she said, pushing the flowers in his hands with a firm shake of her grey head. A pinched quality crept into her expression as she met his gaze. "You remind me of someone. She used to drop by to get these every week," she murmured, a faraway look entering the shopkeeper's eyes. For a moment he feared the woman had realized who he was and would cause a stir, but she simply smiled again. "What's your name again?"

"...Vargha."

She huffed at that, pursing her lips before she herded him towards the door. "She's out on the hills past Wimbelreed farm," she whispered, just out of earshot of the townswoman that was looking on with avid interest. "Down the road, second right, past the flower fields."

Squall faltered, staring at the shopkeeper. "I don't—"

The woman clucked her tongue in impatience and pushed him out the door. "Go on!"

Forcibly relaxing the taut set to his shoulders, he set down the road the shopkeeper had pointed out. So far no one in town had thought to connect Ellone's reluctant visitor with the previous owner of the pub, even though he'd been told several times he looked a lot like her. A fake name and an introduction as Ellone's friend had been enough for Winhill's locals to take his presence in stride. It seemed that though Raine was fondly remembered, her lost son had vanished from collective memory. Or perhaps it was one of those well guarded small town scandals, discussed only behind closed doors. Maybe there was more to all the gazes following him than mere curiosity.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Soon enough they'd be gone anyway, and the villagers would forget all about them. Turning down an even narrower road, both sides encroached by shrubs and weeds, he took in the snowy peaks of the distant mountains, and closer by, the flower fields and hills. Now that the town lay behind him, a few farms the only pockets of human presence, he felt some of his restlessness leave him. He could appreciate the serenity of his surroundings, even if he preferred the desolate wilderness of the Behema Sands or the dramatic cliffs near the orphanage.

Too soon he came upon the area where his mother's grave was located. Climbing several hills and meandering between others, he finally found the unassuming marker nestled at the crest of the highest hill. The small slab of stone was partly obscured by tall grass and hard to spot from a distance, but it was so devoid of any dirt or moss that he was sure people came up here regularly to clean it. Probably Ellone. He stared at the memorial stone that only bared her name and the dates of her birth and death. No epitaph to comment on her life or any loved ones she had left behind, no last statement or goodbye.

The absence of her seemed much louder here than it did anywhere else in Winhill. There was nothing here, only bones beneath earth. This place wouldn't tell him about who she had been—her hopes, her aspirations, her fears—if he cared to find out. It became all the more clear to him that this place was for the sake of others, for people who had known her and mourned her. He felt like an imposter, acutely aware of his lack of emotion.

Staying at Ellone's pub was much more unsettling than this, the place containing numerous reminders and memorabilia of the woman that had been his mother for only a short few days. It was like staying at a haunted house, every room steeped in memories, some of which he'd lived through himself, and colored by the stories Ellone and Loire had told about them.

The room where Raine and Ellone used to build pillow forts. The room where she and Loire had first kissed. The room where she'd given birth to him. The room where she'd stubbornly tried to nurse him despite her waning health. The room where she'd died, weakened beyond recovery.

At her gravesite however, he failed to feel anything at all. He supposed the landscape of gently rolling hills helped others process their grief with the fantasy that she was resting in a better place now. He held no such fanciful beliefs. Dead was dead, his mother never to be reclaimed no matter how often he showed up at her grave. Remembering the flowers, he placed the bouquet on the simple stone slab. An empty gesture intended to appease others.

He knew how others dealt with grief. He'd been to enough funerals to know all the small rituals, the dramatic railings against fate, the quiet tears. He'd spoken at all the internal Garden memorial services for SeeD operatives lost during missions following his installation as commander. The large gathering right after the conclusion of the Second Sorceress War had been the most grueling, introducing him to the special brand of torture that came with losing operatives under his command. Powerlessness, a sense of failure, and finally numb resignation. But by some unfathomable coincidence he hadn't yet lost someone he actually cared about deeply. He couldn't imagine how he'd deal with it once that day came.

Would he feel compelled to speak to the deceased as so many people did? Ellone had told him once how she liked to come up here on sunny days with a picnic basket, chatting about her daily goings-on as she ate. Something about still feeling connected to the dead. It was a concept that disturbed him enough to have put down cremation on his official file back at Garden. Without any remains to visit, his ashes scattered to the wind, his death would not culminate in a final guilt trip from the grave.

But he hadn't always felt that way. He huffed at the memory of storming out of a waiting room in Galbadia Garden upon hearing of Seifer's supposed execution. In retrospect he wondered how much of that had truly been existential panic concerning his own mortality and how much of it had been grief. He'd run through the hallways, aimless, breathless, until his mind had gone numb.

Feeling awkward standing around in front of the memorial stone, he decided to sit down in the tall grass. If picnicking was fine, then taking a rest had to be acceptable as well. If not for the cutting wind, it would have been a perfectly mild autumn day. Lying back, he looked up at the thin wisps of clouds that hastened across the windswept sky.

He definitely hadn't always been this comfortable around death, but the war and years of being an active SeeD had put a quick and necessary end to his youthful naivety, right along with any romantic notions of an afterlife. People had died under his command in the field, right before his very eyes. People had died faraway and out of sight, because of decisions he'd made. People had died by his gunblade. It made death seem like a very inevitable part of life, and trying to avoid or escape it seemed foolish. He'd made his peace with the knowledge that he probably wouldn't grow old. His friends' deaths he refused to think about. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Loire had once stated that when it was his time to pass away, he'd like to be buried alongside his late wife. Squall wondered if he'd feel more compelled to come here then. His father had become a real person rather than a childhood fantasy. That was part of the reason why he couldn't truly think of Loire as his 'father'. The term was an abstraction, a hopeful remnant from his days at the orphanage that didn't seem to fit the man that had barged into his life. The president's last name was something safe to call him by, creating some much needed distance. But he couldn't very well refer to his mother as 'Leonhart'. Besides, she'd forever be a stranger to him, so even after he'd found out her identity, in his mind he'd kept calling her 'mother'—the abstraction, the childhood fantasy he'd outgrown.

Stretching back his arms to cradle his head, he tried to imagine growing up in this place; a game of what ifs that had bothered him the last time he'd come to Winhill as well. It was so far removed from his actual experiences that he couldn't picture it. Sitting at the dinner table with parents and a sister. Growing up in a place where the most exciting thing was the annual livestock fair. Going to a normal school, taking normal classes. He couldn't imagine what kind of person he would've become, or if he would've even liked that person.

Coming to Winhill was like peering into a bizarre alternate reality. A confrontation with the kind of person he should have been, the kind of person his self-proclaimed family wanted him to be. For all the times he'd been told he looked just like his mother, sounded just like her, even scowled just like her, at the same time he was never enough like her. She'd been kinder, not a violent bone in her, a pillar of the community. It strangely made him feel less like himself, like he wasn't living up to some unseen but keenly felt standard.

As always, a stab of guilt twisted his gut as he examined the relief he felt at all the turns of fate that had brought him to Garden. Somehow it felt like finding his purpose in life had been bought with the death of his mother. Being a SeeD was such an integral part of him that losing his status as a fighter would strip away his whole identity. The mere thought of possibly having become a farmer, flower breeder or barkeep made him scowl.

He'd never voiced any of this to Loire. The man was already heartbroken enough without knowing that his reluctant son was secretly happy he'd grown up without a family or parental supervision. Sure, his childhood and cadet years had been tough, but never would his life be as meaningless as it would've been living in the backend of nowhere. Ever since he'd started to move from mission to mission, seeing the world and honing his skills along the way, he knew it was exactly what he wanted, even if he hadn't initially chosen this life for himself.

Loire had trouble accepting the violent nature of his life, even though the man himself had joined the army and had become a soldier in order to see the world and find his limits. He had trouble imagining Loire living out his days in domestic rural bliss for that matter, the president too full of energy and ambition. That was probably why Loire had stuck around Esthar to fight someone else's war in the first place. From stories he'd surmised that his mother had been unhappy with Loire's profession and restlessness, so however blissful a picture Ellone and Loire tried to paint, he knew it hadn't been perfect. He doubted his mother would've condoned his own lifestyle much either.

Like father, like son indeed. He huffed at the thought. The idea that he had anything in common with Loire at all was alien to him. But somehow the man had weaseled his way into his life, because here he was, at the president's behest.

Shaking his head, he pushed up from the grass that had dampened the back of his clothes. He patted down his clothes to dislodge any dirt or grass and cast a final glance at his mother's gravestone, the flowers he'd placed there already looking worse for wear after the harsh play of the wind. Still nothing more tangible stirred in him than a vague sense of guilt and regret.

Sorry for causing your death. Sorry for not caring more.

No richer in closure or insight than before he'd come up here, he walked down the hill towards the road. He would've rushed back to the pub to try and get Seifer to distract him, if it wasn't for all the unwanted attention he'd receive the moment he stepped inside. Other than that, his only prospects for the day were more chores and their plan to go into each other's memories. Letting out a resigned sigh, he shrugged himself deeper into his jacket and started the short trek back to town.

~ o ~

[The Sleeping Lion, Winhill, Wednesday, 29th of October, 10:17 pm]

"Come on, you heard the lady. It's closing time."

Supporting the drunkest customer, Seifer herded the old farmer to the door along with the other stragglers.

"For… for as long 's I remember," the gray-haired man lilted drunkenly, wagging a lecturing finger. "For as long as I 'member, The Sleepin' Lion don't kick out folk when they still wanna be drinkin'."

"Now, you know that isn't true, Tedwin," Ellone corrected with a smile from behind the counter. "I remember Raine throwing you out plenty of times."

The old man's eyes misted over as he became slightly more tractable in Seifer's supporting grip. "That she did…That she sure did."

Shaking his head in amusement as the man's drunken muttering trailed off into the humming of a song, Seifer gestured at the most steady and sure footed customer. "Rainar. Make sure he gets home alright."

"I already had that thought myself," the cheerful man said, before calling out a final goodbye to Ellone. "This one's a keeper, Ellone. See ya tomorrow!"

Stifling a laugh, Ellone nodded. "See you tomorrow, Rainar."

Standing in the open door of the pub, Seifer couldn't help a smile as he watched the last of the day's patrons stagger their way home. It had been fun manning the bar for the day, just like he'd expected. Winhill had welcomed him with open arms. Locking up the door, he turned and walked over to grab the glasses that still remained on the tables. "Seemed like a good night."

Ellone smiled at the modest statement. "It was. I can't remember the last time the pub was this packed."

"It was fun. I can see why you like it here."

Humming softly, Ellone dragged a wet cloth along the counter top. "You fit right in too. You sure you've lived in Esthar all this time?"

"I travel often. And I like the country life."

"Well then, you're welcome to stay here any time," Ellone replied fondly. "The place is lively with you around."

"You better watch your words. I might just take you up on that," Seifer said, wishing their evening could be as carefree as the rest of their day had been.

"It's a deal then. Next time you come over, you definitely have to stay longer. I haven't even shown you around yet!"

Seifer smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I would've liked to have seen more of the town today," he admitted, but he was having trouble filtering out the reality of their situation. There was no saying this wouldn't be the last time he'd ever set foot here, that he wouldn't be leaving her and Squall behind for good in just a matter of hours.

Looking up from the sink she'd been filling with hot water, Ellone regarded the blond as he continued to collect empty bottles in silence. The pensive tone to what he'd just said took her off guard after all the cheerful banter. It sounded far too much as if he didn't expect he'd get the chance.

"You'll definitely have plenty of volunteers to take you on a tour," she said, trying to cheer him up. "You even made Seumas laugh, and he's a surly old man."

"They're a lively bunch," Seifer said, walking past Ellone to place the beer bottles in an empty crate in the storage room. Back inside the pub, he came to a lean against the counter next to Ellone and watched as she rinsed the remaining glasses.

"Where do you think he's at?" he asked, wanting to catch a moment with Squall in private before they got started.

"In the attic by the sound of it," Ellone said, setting aside the glass she'd just cleaned and grabbing a dirty one.

Seifer looked over at the stairs. He hadn't seen Squall at all since the brunet had pilfered a quick dinner from the pub earlier. "Think he could use a hand?"

Looking up from the dishes, Ellone met Seifer's gaze. He was clearly impatient to see her brother, and not in the same way as when he'd gone to fetch the man for lunch. Perhaps some time alone together would do them good. "I did ask him to move down some heavy things. Go on, I'll finish up in here."

"Alright," Seifer said, setting off into a brisk pace, up several sets of stairs.

Entering the attic, he stopped in place just beyond the door. Squall was holding a large lamp in his hands not far off, intent on the task at hand. Several cobwebs lined his clothes and hair, the paltry attic light casting the man in diffuse light and soft shadows, the air awhirl with dust. Spellbound, he didn't move an inch as he watched Squall work, for once not compelled to accost the man. Somehow it felt as if the slightest touch would ruin the illusion.

"...Hey."

Taking his gaze from the attic's disorganized chaos, Squall turned to regard the blond. Frowning slightly, he brushed away his hair from his eyes, his nose itching with dust. "Closing time?"

Seifer nodded. "Ellone's almost done downstairs. You close to finishing as well?"

Squall inclined his head at the remaining items that still needed to be moved down. "That's the last of it."

Taking in the pile of mismatched furniture, Seifer grabbed an old side table. "Where's it going?"

"The backyard."

When Seifer moved towards the stairs with the piece of furniture, Squall was momentarily blindsided by a pang of disappointment. No kiss, no expectant grin, no quips. Smoothing over the frown on his brow, he took a firm hold of two lamps and followed after the man.

As they went up and down from the attic multiple times, moving the last of the items Ellone had marked for a yard sale, Squall tried to convince himself that the silence between them was a companionable one. Any other time and Seifer would've been making conversation or demanding his attention. At the very least he'd expected the man to brag about his success as Winhill's newest bartender. Seifer had been in his element that day, animated and thriving in the limelight. The blond had been more at home in The Sleeping Lion than he could ever be.

He hadn't done so well himself. He'd stayed up on the roof after he'd cleaned out the rain gutters, for longer than he could justify. It had come as a reflex to avoid all people while he got his thoughts sorted. So he'd sat there, watching the setting sun from his solitary vantage point, dreading each second that was slipping away from him while laughter drifted up to him from the pub below.

By the time they closed the attic door behind them and started to carry down the last heavy piece of furniture together, Seifer still hadn't spoken a word. Glancing at Seifer's face as they negotiated the unwieldy couch around the stairs' turn, Squall wished he had the courage to speak first, but even if he had, he wouldn't know what to say.

Holding on tightly as they carried the couch through the crammed storage room, Seifer couldn't let go of the feeling of inevitability that seemed to permeate his every thought. He'd never been a pessimist and didn't want to start now, but how the hell could this end well? He hadn't even managed to sneak a photo of Squall all afternoon, too busy with everything else. And now it was too late. If things ended badly, he'd have nothing of the man standing mere feet away, looking awkward as hell as they placed the couch next to the rest of Ellone's old furniture.

The night had grown dark around them, the evening air cold. Their last chore was completed.

A few more seconds ticked by as they looked at each other. Squall clearly expected him to say something, but no words came to him. Instead he catalogued every inch of the man before him. The messy dark locks, the stoic pose, the scar. Those intense eyes.

When Squall squared his shoulders and turned away to head back inside, he knew it was now or never. Jerking from his stupor, he took quick strides until he reached the man. In between stacked crates of beer and empty bottles, he grabbed hold of Squall's wrist, forcing him to turn around. Squall's eyes met his own questioningly and he answered with a kiss.

Just one more.

He moved his lips slowly against Squall's, taking in the scent, taste and feel. He avoided the inevitable for as long as possible, but knew the moment had to end. Pulling back, he watched a small frown wrinkle Squall's brow. "We should go," he said, yet didn't move an inch.

Hating the awkwardness between them, Squall knew they shouldn't stall but he needed more than a chaste kiss to fortify himself against what they were about to do. He needed to feel that things would be okay, even if Seifer didn't seem to believe it. Taking the single step forward that brought him right back into Seifer's reach, he pulled the man's face down to his and kissed him roughly, his tongue seeking access. He poured every second of pent-up desire and every stab of concern that had afflicted him all day into the exchange.

His heart squeezed tightly when Seifer gathered him close and returned his kiss in kind. Their hands groped and tugged, their breaths coming in hard and fast. It wasn't even close to being enough, but it was better than leaving the unease in Seifer's expression unchallenged. He turned every press of his lips into a promise; a confession he could never express in words.

When they finally managed to break apart after a few lingering kisses that threatened to gravitate them right back to each other, Squall looked up at Seifer with renewed determination. He'd be strong enough for both of them.

"Let's go," he spoke against Seifer's lips, before stepping back and leading the way upstairs.

~ o ~