Of Parents and Pi
By: Miroir du Symphonie
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Pairings: LeonxCloud
A/N: Oh God, I am SO SORRY for how long this took to get up. Truly, I am. I just got swamped with some much stuff last and this month that I barely had time to do anything else but schoolwork. I'm going to try to be better about updates from now on, especially considering how supportive people have been for this story.
To be honest, I am shocked at the level of encouragement and input that I've been getting from my reviewers. Shocked and overwhelmed. It's a really humbling thing for a writer to have received so much support, and I am very thankful. Truly I am. I simply hope that you will stay with me on our journey together, because your support helps me more than you could possibly fathom. My heartfelt gratitude goes out to everyone who has reviewed and favorited this story and all my other stories.
I have a few things to say about this chapter - there are a few loose ends that aren't going to get tied until the next chapter, something that I did on purpose. This chapter is mostly fluffy humor, but for those of you who have been hoping for something of a naughtier nature, I am pleased to announce that you'll be getting a taste of that in chapter 5. The twins will play a rather significant role there as well, for those of you who are fond of them and their antics. There's some implications about those two in this chapter that I think you'll enjoy. :3
Some clerical reminders - the contest for this fic is still up and running. Every 25th reviewer receives a 1000-word LeonxCloud fic, with the option of having the plot of their choise. The first's winner's fic went up on November 4th - The Situation Room, written for XxTypoMasterxX. All the more encouragement to review - you could be my next lucky winner.
Also, my LJ is still up and running, updated very frequently with news on how I and my writing are doing. You might want to check it out. :3
Now, onto the story. Enjoy, and don't forget to drop me a review when you're done. :3
Glasses and Braces IV
Of Parents and Pi
The soft sounds of Arabesque filled the brightly lit kitchen, claiming dance partner in the steam that swirled about the room in graceful arcs. The cheerful duo landed misty kisses to the curved clarity of his glasses, obscuring his vision and the solitary window in the room. It was a gray day outside, he knew from what he'd seen upon waking, the sky debating charity to the viridian beggars planted on busy streets. Leon hoped for its continued selfishness as he leaned against the counter, water pooling and spilling over his palms as he washed dirty pans.
The maid had just been in, asking him to let her clean up, but he'd gently dismissed her from the task. Around the kitchen was the evidence of clumsy success: small dustings of flour on the table and the floor and his cheeks. Broken egg shells, their viscous content hanging from their jagged edges. Puddles of vanilla, a usually steady hand quivering in uncertainty and pouring more libation to the counter than the mixing bowl. Scattered crystals of salt and sugar, so cleverly entwined that one could not distinguish saline from sweet.
And peculiarly shaped cutters, forged in metalshop out of scraps and a purpose.
He'd wanted absolutely no help with this task, turning away an overly excited Laguna who'd bounded downstairs the second he'd noticed ingredients spread out for use. Baking, to Leon, was a long-faded shard of childhood, shadows of the bright color it used to be dulled by a heavy coating of dirt. It had hurt to recall that memory, sequenced in a time where their kitchen had been a female's domain and a pink apron had hung next to Leon's tiny blue and Laguna's large, sunshine yellow.
He'd tried and failed to think of what he was doing objectively, more like the fulfillment of a chemical formula and less like a gently guiding voice asking if he wanted to lick the spoon. Eventually he'd settled on the occasion he was working for, thoughts of Cloud brightening the somber mood that had threatened him at this simple activity. He'd gotten through it well enough, considering, though unable to avoid the mess that he was now cleaning up. It was the oven's work now, its clear screen like the television Leon never watched, showing him the products of his bill of time.
A musical dinging echoed through the room just as he placed the last bowl in the drying rack. Anxiously, he dried his hands with a towel and plucked too-small oven mitts from their small kitchen drawer, suited for daintier hands than his own. Fingers squeezed uncomfortably, he reached into the sweltering box and withdrew his finished products, vision going fogged once more as two metal trays hit the cooling racks with careful strides.
He switched the oven off, surveying the first batch with a critical eye. Some of the cookies hadn't been cut as well as others and their shape was not as obvious, but nothing looked burnt. Relieved, he turned his attention to the second, smaller group, heart thumping. No burns, cut scarily well, and the raisins he'd added looked fairly normal.
Suddenly exhausted, he slumped against the wall.
Never again.
The shrill ring of the phone cut through his restful silence, and with a groan he forced himself off the wall to go answer it. Putting it to his ear with a mumbled greeting, a familiar, somewhat breathy voice filtered through the line. Leon smiled.
"Good afternoon, Cloud."
"I am not providing a disturbance to any of your activities, am I?" The blonde sounded worried and a little nervous.
"It is alright. I was not busy." Anymore, he mentally added, pulling out a chair and plopping into it with a relieved hiss. His body felt heavy and slow, the laborious turning of long-stagnant gears leaving him tired.
Cloud sounded more relaxed at his reply, and continued. "I was simply desirous of providing you with a reminder as to my address and the scheduled hour, Leon."
Reaching for the notepad that was kept next to the phone, he listened to his boyfriend talk, nervous excitement bubbling within him as he wrote. "Thank you, Cloud. Your reminder is most appreciated."
"You are very welcome," the blonde replied, and he could hear the smile in the teen's voice. "I cannot speak for much longer—there are some tasks that must reach completion before your arrival."
"I will allow you your freedom, then."
"My thanks. Travel with prudence."
Saying their goodbyes, they hung up, and he relaxed into the chair with a weary sigh. Soon, he would have to get up and get ready, but he'd worked hard.
He deserved a few minutes.
Ensconced in his comfortably messy study, Laguna worked away at his article, mouth fixed in a petulant pout as he reviewed his hastily taken notes. Writing about his interviews was something he usually loved, casting his mind back to those moments of conversation and elaborating every turn of phrase in excruciating detail. But today, the activity seemed tedious and boring, charred with the fires of burning curiosity. Towards his son.
He wanted to know what Leon was baking. And, more importantly, why he couldn't help.
Laguna loved baking. Loved the work as much as the crunchy, chewy, or fluffy results, loved how so many different things came together to make something else. His favorite memories of Squall's childhood had been Saturday afternoons, the family picking out a recipe and tying each other's monogrammed aprons, the letters hand-stitched and raised to the touch.
LL. SL. RL. Always in the same order. He'd do his own first, deft fingers tying the knot behind his back before crouching to do the tiny indigo strings that trailed behind tiny feet. And then two pairs of fingers, one large and one small, would work together to fasten rose-colored ties behind a petite, softly curving figure.
After a time, there had been no more baking. Squall had become older, morphed into this Leon-person who lacked the round face and shining eyes and the important task of putting flowered oven mitts back into a designated drawer.
So what had prompted this recession into painfully delicious territory? Laguna wanted to know, and it was burning him up inside that he didn't. He'd given a fleeting thought towards patching that empty weekend space together, compensating for the missing apron and lacking smile. But as usual, he'd been turned away.
Mood dampening, he forcefully pulled his attention back to his article.
The phone provided a welcome distraction and he snatched it up, hoping that the caller would be someone to snap him out of his funk. Before he could speak, however, his son's smooth voice came through the line. Leon had obviously picked up the call downstairs. Hopes dashed somewhat, he was about to hang up when the sound of youthful, elevated diction carried through to him.
And not Leon's.
Could this be....that friend?
His ear gave a pained throb as he pressed the phone harshly against it, but he ignored the sensation in his scramble for a clean piece of paper.
Laguna had dressed his son a few weeks ago for an outing, heart bursting with pride and hope for what he'd thought was a lost cause. Sure, he knew that Leon's friend was male, but perhaps his son could look past that? Sure, the only lovers his son had been interested in thus far were books and his computer. But he'd made enough effort to make himself a friend, right? Surely that showed some interest in the world outside his room?
It did, he thought with renewed glee, because the younger brunette would be going over to that boy's house this evening. For interactive purposes.
That wasn't too far a jump from romantic interest, was it?
How clueless his dear boy was, the man thought with affection, confused over what he so obviously wanted. What father would he be if he didn't show his son the light? This was his duty. His fate. His destiny. There was no other reason why he'd been handed the means to the other boy on a silver platter.
Fondly, he gazed down at the messily written address, paying the droning dial tone no attention.
His evening had just gotten a lot more interesting.
Azure eyes followed the two moving forms that had invaded his room, once more going through his clothing and calling out suggestions. He felt drained, eyelids fluttering and barely staying open despite the fact that he'd spent the day in bed—too nervous to get up and do anything except think.
A host of unpleasant scenarios had marched a black parade through his mind, starting in the wee hours of dawn and getting worse as the hours passed. The echo of a feminine voice was the sole constant in every unfortunate image, growing louder and shriller in intensity and condemnation.
Sighing, he rested his cheek upon his palm. The only reason he was going through with this was because he'd never hear the end of it if he refused. To be honest, he would have been perfectly content if his mother and boyfriend never met. He understood her reasons, but that didn't comfort him any.
"Cloud?"
He looked up, seeing identical gazes of concern fixed upon his figure. Offering no response, he tilted his head to show he was listening.
"Something wrong?" His youngest brother's voice was soft and cautious, as if dealing with a skittish animal.
Disliking the expression on the usually happy face, he replied in the negative, not wanting his brother to worry. "There are no flaws in my current state of being, Sora."
"Well...okay," the brunette conceded. "You were just kinda quiet over there, we were wondering." A bright smile lit up his face. "We done here, Roxas?"
"Yeah. Clothes are ready, dude," Roxas drawled from his comfortable slouch in Cloud's desk chair. "Strip and come get 'em. What's he like?"
Blinking at the sudden change in topic, the eldest sibling wiggled his way out of his still-donned pajamas and slid his foot into a pant leg. "We are...similar," he said softly, mood lightening somewhat at the thought of the scarred brunette. "I am not of the opinion that you will find him objectionable."
His bed creaked as Sora perched on it, eyes bright with questions. "Does he have any family?"
"His father," the blonde replied absentmindedly, mind lingering on the question as he pulled his shirt on. Leon hadn't mentioned any other siblings, and there was a big gaping hole of information about his other parent. "I am not sure about the existence of another familial party."
"What's his house like?"
"I am unaware. I have not yet been requested to sojourn to his residence."
"You guys had sex yet?" Roxas asked lazily from across the room.
Cloud had never thought it possible to choke on one's air, but the second he registered the question he went down gasping.
"ROXAS!" Sora yelled, rushing over with a hastily filled glass of water. Throat now sore and eyes watering, Cloud drank it, cheeks on fire. "Why the hell would you ask him something like that?"
The younger blonde shrugged. "It's a valid question. Don't know what his problem is."
"Problem?" The brunette hissed, rubbing comforting circles on his brother's back. "Have you ever heard of tact?"
Roxas shrugged, completely unrepentant, as the harmonious sound of the doorbell chimed through the house. Sora forced him to sit on the bed and the familiar cool and wet spread over his lips—a welcome chill from the heat that flushed his face. "You okay, Cloud?"
He nodded jerkily, embarrassment creeping through him. He was eighteen, damn it. Such a question shouldn't have sent him spiraling.
"Hey, dude." A concerned light was shining in the younger blonde's eyes as he moved to sit next to his brother, putting a gentle hand on his burning cheek. "Tonight's going to go okay, okay?"
"You look great," Sora added with a small smile, brushing a blonde spike behind Cloud's ear. They'd chosen a simple pair of faded jeans and a sky-blue hooded shirt run through with navy stripes. "Blue's really your color."
Blushing in pleasure at the praise, he allowed them to pull him up and push him gently to the door. "I think Leon would like it better if you answered the door instead of Mom."
Nodding his assent, Cloud stole downstairs.
Barely a second after his departure, there was a loud knock at the window, a pair of emerald eyes peering through the glass. Grinning, Sora pushed it open and a silver-haired teen poked his head through.
"There's a Mercedes in the driveway and I know none of you owns it. This the big night?"
"Yeah," Roxas replied as Riku clambered his way in. "Mom couldn't handle the mystery anymore. Cloud's been silently freaking out all day."
"Going to give him hell?" the silvette asked, sliding off his jacket. In a black wifebeater, his toned arms were on display and neither twin had any shame in admiring the view.
"Probably not," Sora said, blue eyes roving hungrily over the older boy's figure. "He's also the nerdy type, so not much need. It'd kill Cloud if we did, anyway."
"And whatever we don't do, Mom will do for us," Roxas added, eyes fixed firmly on a spot below the teen's checkered belt.
"Think she'll mind an extra visitor? I want to see this."
"If she does, she'll get over it," Sora replied huskily, pleased at the mirrored fire in his brother's eyes.
Riku smirked.
All coherent speech in that room ended for the next few minutes.
Leon rang the doorbell and stepped back, adjusting his hold on the container of cookies and running a hand through his hair. The car ride had been agonizingly slow, his body overheated and his mind muddled as he tried to maneuver traffic. The selfish drizzle that the sky had allotted felt good on his face as he got out, cool and gentle and calming his nerves.
The heavy hinges on the wooden front door creaked as they opened, his heart speeding as a single blue eye peered at him from inside. With a shy smile, Cloud let him in, and he gave the place a once-over as he toed off each shoe. The room he'd entered had an earthy tone to it, the walls a pleasant green and the carpet a soft-looking tan. Pictures covered the walls, several sets of blue eyes staring out of their frames, but Leon's attention was drawn to the largest of them all.
It was a family portrait, professionally done, the three males and sole female of the Strife family featured against a neutral background. The brunette sported a blinding smile, eyes shining, while the younger blonde boy's expression was more subtle but just as happy. Leon smiled at the sight of Cloud in a tuxedo, eyes bright and hand resting lightly upon the last person's shapely shoulder.
It was this fourth figure that sent shivers up his spine.
Mrs. Strife was beautiful, there was no denying that. Soft-looking tendrils framed a pretty face, the same vibrant color as her son's. She held an air of refinement that was palpable in the picture, her classy black dress flattering her small frame and most of her hair swept in an elegant bun.
But her deep blue gaze—the same shade he'd fallen in love with—held little of the warmth that he could see in her children. If Cloud's eyes were clear, still pools, then hers were rushing torrents, seeking to drag victims to a watery grave.
Even as he looked away from the photo, he could feel her frozen stare, boring into his back.
Pointedly turning his attention to Cloud, he studied the teen's face, noting the nervousness in intense azure eyes. Slowly, almost shyly, he brushed his knuckles across one pale cheek, finding it hot to the touch. The blonde's name escaped him in a rush of warm breath, spoken softly on diffident lips, the gravity of the situation dropping over them like heavy tapestry.
"I am pleased that you completed the sojourn to my residence without incident, Leon," Cloud said softly, offering a small smile. "May I inquire as to the nature of your burden?"
He'd almost forgotten what he was carrying, and sheepishly he bent to answer the blonde's query. The gift bag crinkled merrily as he removed the large container from it. "I....felt it appropriate to procure a token of gratitude for your family," he said as he straightened. His heart thumped wildly as steady arms relieved him of his burden.
A surge of relief consumed him when Cloud cracked the lid open, the mild curiosity on the blonde's face turning to pleasure. "You contrived the entirety of this for us?" Blonde eyelashes flickered and swept to cover wide eyes as the teen leaned forward, taking a luxurious whiff.
"I did." Leon couldn't suppress the proud note in his voice as he replied.
"Their shape is even akin to that of...." The blonde laughed softly, leaving the sentence unfinished as he closed the lid and set the large bowl on the nearby coffee table. "This was not necessary, I insist."
"I desired to do it." Feeling brave, Leon reached into the bottom of the bag and removed another object, its contents carefully wrapped and tied off with curly ribbon. "I was aware of your predilection for raisins. I would request that you refrain from the distribution of these," he said as he pressed the gift into Cloud's hands. The blonde didn't speak as he undid the ribbon, the clear wrapping crackling as he parted it and stared down at the contents.
When he looked up again the brunette felt himself falling.
Leon loved Cloud's eyes. He'd always had: loved seeing the expressions that flitted though them, loved watching them brighten, loved their soothing calm and their gem-like brilliance. From chanced glances in a noisy room to the music of the spheres as breath met breath—the gentle blue was his sole addiction—a vice that would be happily confessed to all that chose to hear it.
And yet he'd never considered how Cloud felt towards him.
In the back of his mind, logical thought was stirring a coup d'état from its gradual fall, regaling him with grim possibilities of the blonde becoming bored or tired of him. With every bit of progress they made Leon's resolve strengthened—but that didn't stop the dark seed of doubt from blossoming black flowers.
Yet....at the look in his boyfriend's eyes....he was falling into those clear pools, happily pulled under by his own desire. Leon did not claim to be an expert on emotion, but the message in Cloud's eyes was evident and begging to be read, to be understood, to be accepted.
Stay. This might not go well, but please....stay. I need....
Without another thought, Leon bent down and answered that need.
Neither noticed the muted thump noise of the open bag falling, it having slipped from Cloud's quivering grasp for a fortunate landing on the coffee table. Warm and eager hands made their way to his chest and over his shoulders, one stroking the skin at Leon's nape and the other losing itself in coffee tendrils. The warm press of soft lips on his own was consuming him, raging fire setting the deadly sable blooms of his mind ablaze, the perfumed smoke of their pyre hazing any rational thought. Tentatively, his tongue touched at Cloud's parted lips, asking for entrance—an act they'd never done, and something that the brunette knew he should have requested verbal permission for.
Kiss faltering somewhat with sudden nervousness, he made to break away—and was pleasantly stunned at the repress of lips and the blonde's warm wetness touching his own. Slowly, almost shyly, his fingers trailed down Cloud's sides, linking together at the small of the younger boy's back. Leon heard the teen sigh into the kiss, pressing flush against him, another strange fire rising in his brain and blood from the still-glowing embers of flower death—
"If you are quite finished mauling my son, Mr. Leonhart."
Leon almost bit down on Cloud's tongue in his haste to push away, cheeks burning with embarrassment and residual heat from the prolonged embrace. Cloud looked mortified, hands clasping and unclasping in front of him and eyes darting to anywhere in the room but the brunette or his mother.
Slowly, dread creeping through him, Leon raised his eyes to meet the gaze of Athena Strife.
She was classily dressed—almost overly so—a wine-red party dress with transparent sleeves encasing her small form. Her hair was now free and floating over her shoulders, framing those turbulent eyes and pursed red lips. The toes of one dainty foot tapped at a leisurely pace, as if she was figuring out a rhythm to a waltz instead of staring down the filthy teenager who'd been unabashedly feeling up her pure, virgin son.
Or at least, that was what the situation seemed like when fixed with her piercing stare. Almost of their own accord, his eyes drifted from her stern face to the one inconsistency in the beautiful, disdainful picture.
A stained kitchen knife was clutched tightly between perfectly manicured fingers.
Flinching slightly, he met her gaze once more, hoping that she hadn't taken his downward foray as anything indecent. It was obvious that she'd caught the small movement when her freshly painted lips curled into a smirk.
"Dinner is served."
Water streamed over his cupped palms as he flicked them under the running tap, smoothing damp fingers over his disorganized coif in an attempt to neaten the silver. A satisfied thrum pulsed through his body, afterglow pleasantly slow to fade despite the press of time and the ebbing of passion.
Three sharp raps on the door sounded before Sora stuck his head in. His hair was messier than usual—not that anyone would question it—and there was a sated quality to his expression that elevated the goofy grin to something less chaste. "Hey, stop primping. Time to go."
With a slow nod, he checked himself in the mirror one last time before leaving the bathroom. The blonde woman's back was to them as they entered the kitchen, fiddling with something on the stove before she turned around. Giving Sora an approving nod for his punctuality, her face contorted into a scowl as she set her sights on Riku.
"I do not recall extending an invitation to this gathering to you, Riku. Nor do I remember you ringing the doorbell."
Her expression was less than pleased, but after years of it he was far from cowed. "Come on, Aunt Athie," he said easily, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe and using a nickname he knew she hated. The siblings' mother was just like Roxas—fire in an igloo—and exactly his type. With the subtraction of twenty-five years and most of his childhood, he wouldn't mind a romp with Mrs. Strife. "You wouldn't let me starve, would you?"
She stared at him with narrowed eyes for a minute. "You will help with the washing," was the final, dismissive reply as she turned back to the stove. Wincing, he moved past her into the dining room, Sora trailing behind him as he entered.
Roxas was already there, twirling a straw between his fingers and looking bored. Across from him sat Cloud, Riku's childhood babysitter and one-time love interest.
Like the rest of his family members, Cloud was attractive—but his bangability was somewhat muted by the blinding braceface and the genius reputation. Riku didn't consider himself stupid, but it was more than a little intimidating to date someone who did physics for fun. It didn't help that the teen was a total recluse.
Riku's sexual considerations toward the eldest sibling didn't matter much anymore, however, seeing as though Cloud had found a fuck mate all by himself.
He resisted the urge to applaud.
The sound of plates clinking filled the room as Athena brought out salad and bread. Refraining from rolling his eyes, he took the pans from her and she moved to take her seat. Mrs. Strife was about the only person on earth who still bothered to serve all food in courses—a tradition that exasperated the perpetually hungry Sora to no end.
Finishing the task with an inward snort, Riku took his seat and sighed in relief at the woman's nod of approval.
If he kept this up, there was a chance he'd get out of dishes.
"What is this container, Mr. Leonhart?" Athena inquired of the brunette quietly seated by Cloud's side. Said Mr. Leonhart jumped at the sudden sound, and Riku smirked as he mentally drew up a tally. Inattentiveness. Minus three points.
"It is filled with cookies, ma'am," the brunette replied in a respectful tone. Manners, Riku mentally wrote. Plus five points.
"Is it now?" A fine blonde eyebrow arched. "And would you care to explain why this container, filled with cookies that I have not accounted for, is sitting at my dining table?"
"To my knowledge, it is proper for a guest to bring a token of appreciation when taking dinner at another's home. I baked them this morning." Riku's own eyebrows rose, inwardly impressed at both the stranger and Cloud. Initiative. Plus five points.
"Did you, now?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Coral lips suddenly smirked, and he inwardly felt a stab of pity for the older boy at the familiar expression on Athena's face. In some form or fashion, the brunette was about to be skewered. "And if your knowledge of propriety is so great, then why were these cookies not presented to the hostess upon arrival? Surely that would be preferable to molesting her son."
Sora and Roxas snickered, turning their gazes to the salad when sharp blue eyes fixed on them. The brunette had frozen in his seat, and Riku had half a mind to call the ambulance for a busted vessel in Cloud's face. Face-sucking. Minus seven points.
Athena let the weight of her words sink in, lifting the lid of the container and cautiously removing a cookie.
The room went quiet. The brunette flushed.
It took a moment for Athena to speak the disbelieving thought on Riku's mind. "It is shaped like pi," she said finally, gazing at the baked good with an expression that was half bemused, half impressed. Biting into the irrational sweet, she chewed for a moment before her eyes grew brighter.
Riku's mental pencil was growing dull. Conjuring up a sharpener, he gave it a few turns before continuing to scribble. Culinary skill. Plus four points.
Finishing the cookie, she dabbed daintily at her lips with a napkin before firing off a plethora of questions. "What is your name?"
"Leon, ma'am."
"What is your grade point average?"
"Four-point-zero, ma'am."
"What are your aspirations for the future?"
The newly-dubbed Leon paused over this question, getting his thoughts in order. "I plan to attend college, followed by an attempt to obtain a position in a laboratory and—"
"Yes, yes, all well and good," Athena said with a wave of her hand. Riku blinked as she clicked her fingers at him. "Riku, fetch the lasagna."
Shooting Sora a muted glare as the boy giggled, he walked into the kitchen, spotting the large foil pan on the stove and carefully lifting it. Carrying it into the room, he gently set it on the table before resuming his seat.
"It is already cut, please help yourselves," Mrs. Strife said before her gaze fixed once more on Leon. Poor kid, Riku thought sympathetically as Sora seized the serving spoon. Probably wishes he never left Starcraft for this.
"Do you have any family?"
"Only my father, ma'am."
"Does he know about your....relationship with my son?"
Leon flinched again, for a reason no one understood. "He is aware that I have made a friend, but he does not know that we are....involved."
"And why—" Athena never got to finish her sentence as the doorbell rang, sending a melodic chime through the house. The woman tsked before clicking at Riku.
"You. Get the door."
He shot her a look of disbelief before standing once more and heading for the door. Night had fallen outside the open windows, navy blue attaining dominance over retreating purple and pink. Shivering a little in the wifebeater, he glanced through the peephole before opening the door.
"Hi! Are you Leon's new friend?"
And the evening went to hell.
Leon was surprised. Leon was shocked. Leon was astonished, gobsmacked, flabbergasted and horrified. He didn't know how and he didn't know why. All he could register was the surreal fact that his father was sitting at Cloud's table.
In Cloud's house.
With Cloud's mother.
"My son has won a number of prestigious awards," Mrs. Strife said in dulcet tones. Her ramrod-straight back had arched forward at some point and her flawless hair had gotten disorganized—requiring her to push it behind her ear with a lingering hand every few seconds.
Leon stared down at his lasagna, having absolutely no appetite. Beside him, Cloud looked worried, studying the pair of adults with brows furrowed. If I disregard him, he will disappear....
"Leon's a pretty smart cookie himself, you know," Laguna said cheerily, sipping the wine that Cloud's mother had offered before leaning forward with a wink. "He used to sneak into the medicine cabinet to mix together pills. Said he was trying to cure cancer."
A spill of blonde cascaded down Mrs. Strife's back as she tossed her hair over one shoulder and laughed at the joke. Laguna laughed along, leaning closer and casting a surreptitious glance down at the assets that were inadvertently put on display.
"Christ on a fucking cracker," he heard the silvette whisper to Sora. "Not surprised the dad doesn't know. If I was with someone I wouldn't tell him shit."
The brunette sounded choked. "He's macking on my mom!"
"I can't fucking take this." The youngest blonde—Roxas, he remembered—threw down his napkin. "I'm going outside." He met Leon's gaze. "You come too. Want to talk to you."
More than happy to escape—Mrs. Strife's coy giggles were addling his brain—he pushed back his chair and stood. Cloud moved to follow, but a call from his father stopped the blonde in his tracks.
"Cloud, darling, Laguna wishes to speak with you."
They exchanged a panicked look, the brunette hesitating. He couldn't subject Cloud to that—
"Not you, Leon. Run along and play," Laguna said brightly, waving him off. At a loss for a solution, he cast his boyfriend an apologetic look and followed the motley crowd outside, trying to ignore the terrified look in those deep blue eyes.
"Where's Cloud?" Roxas asked when Leon shut the front door behind him. The three were perched on the steps outside the house, staring at the sky.
"My father....waylaid him."
A sympathetic wince went through the group. "Your father's a fucking trip," the silvette murmured, taking a piece of candy out of his pocket. Contemplating it for a minute, he unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.
"That's not nice, Riku," Sora chided, reminding Leon of the green-eyed boy's name. Riku shrugged.
"Dude." Roxas was looking at Leon with a thoughtful expression. "You like Cloud, right."
The question sounded more like a statement than anything else, and he nodded, not trusting his mouth.
"Take care of him, okay?" Sora said softly. All three of them were looking at him, and despite the creeping discomfort he knew this was important. "We were really worried about him for a while, there."
"He reads too fucking much," was Riku's sage input. "Keep him busy."
"And don't hurt him." Sora said, finally saying what they'd been dancing around. "He's been really happy these past few weeks. I don't want to see him sad again."
"None of us do." The hard candy in the silvette's mouth made a sickening crack through the nighttime air. "We'll fucking have your nuts if you fuck him up, by the way."
"We want a promise, dude," Roxas finished, crossing his arms. All three of them were eyeing him with expectant stares, and he couldn't help feeling a little ganged up on. Nonetheless, their concern and love for Cloud was obvious, and despite the rough delivery Leon's heart softened toward them all.
"I promise."
Sora hugged him then, tight arms squeezing his middle. Roxas and Riku were content with approving nods. The creak of the hinges sounded behind them, the door opening to reveal a distinctively green-looking Cloud.
"And that's our cue," Riku asserted, standing. Roxas waved, Sora gave a final squeeze, and then it was just him and his blonde under the nighttime sky.
"....did they say anything offensive to you?" came the quiet inquiry as Cloud sat on the step next to him. The blonde steps were somewhat shaky, and the brunette felt a rush of irritation at Laguna.
"They did not," Leon finally answered, deciding not to mention Riku's threat. "They simply wanted to inquire on a few points."
Eyeing the viridian tint on porcelain cheeks, he added, "Of what nature was the inquiry that my father made of you?"
Cloud turned even greener, a feat the brunette hadn't thought was possible. "I do not wish to discuss that matter at this present time."
Concern welled up inside him, but he assented with a nod. Comfortable silence reigned between them for several moments before cerulean depths turned on him.
"I apologize for what took place tonight, Leon." The blonde hugged himself around the middle, looking away. "My mother....she's very old-fashioned. And polite to the point of rudeness, at times."
"It's fine." Tentatively, he slipped an arm around Cloud's shoulders. "I apologize for my father, as well. I am still unaware as to how he got this address."
The blonde gave a quiet, slightly depraved chuckle. "Would you be displeased with me for finding your father somewhat disturbing?"
"I have that particular thought on a very regular basis."
Cloud smiled at him. "Abnormal familial parties aside....I am content that you are here."
"And I am pleased to be in your company," he replied quietly, moving closer.
From his closer vantage point, he could see the blonde's pallor switching from sickly green to the pink of slight embarrassment. "I had a subject that I wished to breach with you, upon reflection." he began, face flushed. "Concerning...our intimate preoccupations. Earlier."
Leon coughed, feeling a prickling heat spread to the bridge of his nose. "I apologize for my attempts at a new activity without your consent—"
"No, Leon, that is....that is not my area of concern." The pink deepened to a cherry red, but Cloud resolutely held his gaze. "You felt...different, in some form or fashion. I am simply curious as to the nature of this change, if it does indeed exist and is not a figment of my imagination."
"I simply had an epiphany, is all." He pressed a small kiss to Cloud's temple. The blonde smiled, reaching for something beside him.
"Cookie?" he offered, holding a raisin cookie by one leg from the previously unnoticed bag. Smiling, Leon grabbed hold of the treat's other leg and they broke it, the symbol of irrationality snapping neatly in half. After that, there was nothing else but the calm of the night, the sensation of warmth, and the taste of raisin on each other.
Fin