Pleasantly Depressed Ch 16 – "Of Buffets and Bickering"
by Skandranon
"Hyne Damn Somebody Help He's Trying To KILL ME!"
Finally, some excitement!
The Ambassador from Whatchamacallit jumped in surprise at the outburst, and spilled his wine all over Lady Somethingorother's dress. She screamed and fainted, and knocked over one of the waiters, who toppled his tray of thingies-and-paste into the face of Baron Lookitmymedals, who by this time was drunk enough to be outraged, and took a swing, but missed and hit Duke Blablapolitics straight in the nose. Duchess Politics just stared on arrogantly, while Waiter #2 tried to help by fashioning an ice pack from the punch bowl ice and a napkin, but Duke B. B. Politics was flailing about in a tizzy (which is one of the funnier words in existence), and Waiter #2 missed the nose completely and poked him in the eye.
But who cares about them?
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ballroom, that Kinneas fellow – a nice young fellow, polite, though you couldn't tell at the moment - jumped over a buffet table to put some distance between him and what seemed to be a very pissed off Hexadragon disguised as Squall Leonhart.
Kiros was already rushing forward – good man – to do damage control. Laguna stepped into pace, using the opportunity to communicate important tactical details, which just happened to be "Toldja you should've let me bring my gun!"
"Get yer ass out here and die like the Deling dog you are, Kinneas!"
Uh-oh. Lovers spat.
Kinneas did nothing of the sort, instead opting to fling a tray of yummy-cheese-rolls at Squall to distract him. Squall batted them out of the way and they fell to the floor, quickly trampled by the guests, who were doing the two things all normal, intelligent people do when put in a large group and subjected to danger : panic, and stampede. The cheese rolls had been very yummy – he'd had twelve more than Kiros thought he'd had – and he was very sorry to see them go.
Kiros kept the traffic away from the feuding SeeDs, and Laguna tried to get between them. Kinneas was more than happy to let him, but Squall was more than happy to slam his elbow into Laguna's solar plexus, and could he just say, ow? But Laguna had more years of combat training – and about 5 inches – on Squall. He wedged himself firmly between his son and Kinneas, and twisted the brunet's wrists into a lock hold.
Squall was very, very annoyed by this.
"YEOWCH! Sweet Mother, Squall, no biting! What by the dusklight's going on here!"
"He's trying to kill me! Don't let him!"
"Ya think? Squall, put down the – put down the fork and – Squall I am your Father, listen to – ow that hurt. I'm bleeding. Are you happy? I'm bleeding! No don't pick up the – don't make me hit – yeowch Kiros HELP!"
It wasn't Kiros that came to the rescue – he had his hands full with the guests – but Kinneas. He circled around while Squall was otherwise occupied, and tackled him into a headlock. Gunner and gunblader went down in a tangle of thrashing limbs, leather, and suede. Laguna had no clue as to what was going on, but clearly Squall was extremely upset over something that Kinneas had done, and standing in the way of Squall's goals was like handcuffing yourself to the rail just as the 7:30 to Dollet was headed your way and had just reached its coasting speed of 120 mph.
So Laguna yelled "Free for all!" and jumped into the fray.
A few bruises and dislocations later, Ward grappled Squall into a bear hug that he couldn't break no matter how he struggled. Ward patiently suffered the ensuing bites, kicks, and cussing with his natural stoic patience, and Laguna and Kinneas were granted a momentary breather.
"That's my boy," Laguna chuckled, sprawled out on the marble tiles with inlaid semi-precious stones carved by a famous long-dead gem carving guy.
"Fucking KILL you Irvine!" Squall screamed, and bit Ward again. "Fucking Irvine and your fucking PHONE!"
Irvine, who was crouched against the upturned buffet table and clutching the serving spoon from the punch bowl like a lifeline, coughed spastically. "I forgot I had it, okay? I'm sorry!"
"Walked all the way to Esthar and we could've just CALLED-"
"I thought the batteries were dead! Selphie must've charged them!"
"-had to climb the wall and fell into the bushes-"
"Not like you gave me a chance to think of a different way to get in-"
"-took me half an hour to get the twigs out of my hair-"
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Kiros speared them with his best 'You will not fuck with me' look. "Your little argument has just ruined the most important party for the most important holiday of the country of Esthar. Every noble, general, and CEO will be voicing their complaints about this, and guess who will have to apologize? Me. Bribes will have to be offered to regain favor. Butts will have to be kissed. You two are representatives of Balamb Garden, and you have just sullied its good name with your childish behavior. You may have jeopardized the alliance between this country and your precious mercenary group and planted the seeds for Estharian hostility towards the Gardens. If you do not shut up this very minute and behave yourselves I will knock you unconscious, arrest you, and deport you both. And don't you start snickering, Loire, or I will take you over my knee until your ass is bomb red, see if I don't!"
Father, son, and cowboy obediently fell silent, aside from a muttered "He started it."
"Now what exactly is the problem here?"
Squall twisted in Ward's grip, but without any real effort. "He had a phone."
"And?"
"He could've… called… instead…"
"Instead of trespassing by scaling the garden wall?"
"…Yeah."
Kiros clicked his heel against the tiles sharply. Laguna knew this was an angry sound. "And why exactly is this worth an international incident?"
Squall didn't really have an answer for that, so he just resumed his weak resistance against the hold. The furious rage had slipped from his eyes, and now he mostly looked confused. Resentful, but not actually angry.
Kinneas cleared his throat, and the attention of the half dozen people still in the room riveted on him. "At this point in time I'd like to say, with all due respect, that I think Squall is fucking nuts."
"Up yours farmboy."
"Shut. Up." Kiros clicked his heel again. Laguna winced. "Unless your statement has an explanation behind it, Kinneas, I suggest you refrain from badgering your commanding officer."
"It wasn't an insult," Kinneas said hastily. "I think… he's been off for a while now. Acting really weird, emotions all over the place. And he attacked me! I dunno. Maybe he has PTSD."
"I don't have PTSD."
"I said you might, not that you do. You gotta admit Squall, you're acting kinda crazy."
"Get a little closer and I'll show you crazy."
"That's it. I'm deporting you. I'm calling Garden, and I'm shipping you two back to them in a prison barge." Kiros turned on a gil and stalked off, thumbing the buttons of his cell. "Hello, Kramer? It's Seagill. I've got something of yours."
The solid steel box was ten by five feet wide, six feet tall, with steel benches on either side and links on the floor to attach chains to, though no chains were being used at the moment. The only light filtered in from tiny slit windows near the roof, and there wasn't much light to filter, considering it was 3 AM. Irvine sat on one end and Squall sat on the other, and the box rocked occasionally when the prison barge hit a particularly high wave. The silence was broken only by the hum of the engine, the splashing of water, and the bickering of the two men.
"Ass."
"Dick."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is when it's all you think with."
"Better than repressing and becoming prone to random acts of bitchiness."
"I'm not the expert on being a bitch here, cowboy."
"Wonder what Kadowaki would have to say about your recent behavior."
"Wonder what Selphie would have to say about your ogling my ass all the time."
"Trust me, your ass isn't worth my attention."
"I know a perky brunette who thinks otherwise."
"Can we leave my fiancée out of this?"
"I think her exact words were, 'You should've taken up the gunblade, Irvine, if it gives you this kind of muscles'."
"Ah, yes. Things that Selphie has said are 'cute'. Your ass, Laguna's ass, chicobos, the color yellow, the number 12, calculators, the 73 year old Vice President of Deling, hash browns, picket fences, and Pandemona."
"If you're using it as an insult, let's not forget the twenty times a day she calls you cute."
"That's different. I actually am cute."
"As cute as an ochu in heat."
"Well, let's see here. I'm about five inches taller than you, yes? And from what Rinoa's said while inebriated, I'm guessing I've got a few inches on you in other places. Before Selphie, I kept myself quite happily entertained with whatever girl I wanted. And before Rinoa? Was she your first, Squall?"
"…"
It was exhausting to argue with the brunet, and Irvine quite happily took a rest break while his enemy tried to think up a retort. He could admit to himself that it was the stress talking, and missing his girl, and having to watch Squall all the time, and just life in general. He didn't know why he took it out on the gunblader. Maybe because he started it, the ass.
"Irvine?"
That wasn't an arguing tone, so he glanced across the box to where Squall was suddenly a lot closer than he'd been a second ago. "Um, yeah?"
"I'm… sorry. Things are just… confusing."
"Yeah, I know."
They shared a moment of quiet.
In the limited starlight, Squall's eyes flashed as they shifted from one emotion to another. Bitterness. Frustration. Resignation. Regret. Hints of something left unsaid in the corners, a wary, cautious glance at Irvine, words just behind the lips, wanting to get out, afraid of what may happen.
Squall just sat there stared into space. Just staring. Trying to figure out what he was thinking, what he meant to say. Head flicked to the side in an instinctive gesture, shoving away an unwanted thought. Eyes closed in a rebuke towards his inner conscious. Hands gripping his belts as he always did when tense, fingernails fretting at the metal bits. Boots pushing against the floor in a refusal to shuffle or fidget. Coat and heavy collar shielding him like armor, arms pressing the leather against him to hide the vulnerable chest with the white shirt that was still short enough to expose a bit of skin despite it all.
He was the most beautiful thing Irvine had ever seen.
It was Trent all over again. It was a disaster waiting to happen. It was the glint of the white of his eyes, his shirt, his collar, his teeth when his lips parted, a diamond on Selphie's finger, a wedding dress, and this was Bad. And Wrong. And he was going to kiss him anyway.
Squall reacted surprisingly well. No fist or gunblade swung at him. A "mmph!" and he fell back in shock, and they landed on the floor, lips breaking contact for mere seconds before Irvine reconnected them. Squall's lips were cool, and his chest was hot, and Irvine had never wanted to touch something so much in his life.
Still, it scared him out of his wits when Squall kissed back.
Sloppy, needy kissing and clutching, and Squall wrestled him back to a mutual sitting position, and they leaned against the bench and tried to climb into each others' skin. And then Squall was nibbling, and gnawing, and Irvine always believed in returning as good as he got, and then there were hickies and bite marks, and fingernails clawing at his jacket, and Squall's shirt became a mortal offense to him, but that was okay because it was thin and tore easy, and his chest was very, very fascinating.
His conscience was banging his head with cookware saying this was a Bad Idea, and wasn't banging a wonderful word? And Squall certainly wasn't complaining, and – and Squall…
…at the party, and in the garden, and at the compound, and in his bathroom, and on the balcony…
He pulled away. "No."
Squall blinked at him. Face flushed and lips swollen. A red welt on his neck. Confusion in his eyes.
"You haven't been yourself lately. I don't know what's wrong, but something is. You need to see Kadowaki when we get back to Garden. I think you're sick, Squall."
And the punch Irvine had been expecting at his first move finally landed. Better late than never.
Author's Notes – Well gee, only took me 16 chapters to get to the yaoi part. Lookit that. I love writing from Laguna's perspective, by the by. He's fun.