A/N: Hello my dears, thank you again for the reviews, they mean a lot! xoxoxox
Rinoa froze, her eyes large and wide at the surprisingly shrill noise of her phone. "Sorry, my phone," she said unnecessarily, shoving Squall's hand away from her waist. She scrambled away from the kitchen and reached for her purse, quickly tore through the pockets to seize the contraption that was demanding her full attention. She saw the number that blared across the screen and swore. "Hello?" she said into the mouthpiece.
"Rinoa, he needs you," was all the voice on the other end said.
She released a breath and gingerly pinched the creased skin between her eyes. Now? Really? "Is the damage bad?" she asked.
"Just come get him."
The person on the line hung up briskly, leaving Rinoa to make a rumbling noise of defeat within her throat. "Fuck," she muttered, lowering her phone back into her purse. Then dread washed over her. She didn't have her car. Slowly she turned around.
Squall was still in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter he'd had her pinned against. His arms were bent, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he silently watched her. The fire that had been in his eyes only moments before had simmered into calm and patient confusion. Without a word or a change in expression, he was asking her what happened.
"I uh…I gotta go," she said with a wince. "I'm sorry."
He simply blinked and glanced over to where he had his keys atop of the coffee table. "You want me to take you to your car?"
"Actually…." She made a grimace of sheer embarrassment clutched her phone to her breast. "Fuck, I really hate to ask you this…but could you drive me to the Deling Hotel off of Sunset?"
That was when his expression changed to concerned. "What?"
"It's closer than my car, I can get a taxi later. There's just…" She groaned and her lips scowled as she tried to form her words. "I have to pick up someone." When he didn't answer right away Rinoa waved her hands, flustered and ashamed at having to even ask this large favor. "Sorry! I really shouldn't have asked…I can get a taxi here, actually, so never mind!"
Squall moved away from the kitchen and wrapped a hand around her flailing wrist. "No, it's fine," he assured her. "I can take you there…I'm just a little taken aback about the turn of events."
"You're telling me!" She tried to laugh but instead the noise that came out of her resembled a gurgling hiccup. "So…you'll take me to the hotel?" He wasn't asking too many questions, to which she felt exceedingly grateful, but she caught the twinge in his eyes that spoke of concern and apprehension.
"Yeah…let me just put some pants on." He released her wrist and headed back towards the bathroom.
Rinoa nodded and pressed two fingers to her temples as she listened to his steady footsteps. Damn, damn, damn, she cursed herself. Her mind raced to the kiss he had just placed upon her—merely minutes before—and she shut her eyes at the scorching memory. The hell am I doing?
At the sound of Squall picking up his keys, Rinoa scooped up her purse and followed him out the door.
The car ride was silent and painstakingly awkward. It was the longest fifteen minutes of Rinoa's life. She couldn't even bring herself to look at Squall. The only words he spoke to her were asking where exactly the Deling Hotel resided.
"Right here," she said when they arrived.
He was about to turn into the hotel's parking structure when she pointed toward the small building extension beside the hotel.
"I'm actually going in there," Rinoa said.
Squall pulled into a vacant spot and switched off his headlights.
"So, um, you can just leave me here," she told him, her hand firmly grasping the door handle. "I don't know how long I'm going to be here and I don't want to make you wait..."
Squall just frowned and turned off the engine. He wasn't entirely sure what they were doing here, all he gathered from the exterior was that it was a bar, and all he knew was that someone she knew was there and that she had to get him. "It's fine," he said, stepping out of the car. "I don't work tomorrow." Even though she gave him a smile that said relief he could see the hesitation and wariness in her eyes. It made him wonder even further exactly who this person was that they were picking up.
Rinoa walked up to the entrance and Squall followed suit. She easily maneuvered her way through the halls and he got the idea that she had been there a many number of times. One of the bartenders took one look at Rinoa and sent her a nod of acknowledgement, which Rinoa returned with a shoddy salute.
A large and bulky man came out of the shadows and approached her. Their movements towards each other spoke of familiarity and Squall simply stood beside her and waited for the story to come forth.
"He's back there," said the man, jerking a thumb towards a dark corner.
Rinoa sighed, her shoulders drooping and for the first time since he had met her, Squall saw that she looked tired. This last week that he had known her and the few days he had spent with her, she had been peppy, energetic and full of laughter. Now she appeared drained, exhausted, and completely done as if all the upbeat vigor had been sucked from her. She sent him a quick and unreadable glance before making her way towards the corner.
In the corner was a lone man, slumped over with his face on top of the table. His arm was outstretched, an empty whiskey glass possessively within his clutch. He reeked of booze and a small puddle of spit pooled around his open mouth.
Rinoa leaned in, gently placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a soft shake. "Come on, it's time to go home."
The man shifted, a small snort coming from him as he shuddered awake. "Wha…what's goin' on?" he mumbled. The corner was dark, but Squall could see that the man was much older than he or Rinoa, perhaps in his late fifties or even early sixties. The deep creases around the man's eyes spoke more about exhaustion rather than age. The man twisted his body too much and tumbled out of the booth, the glass coming with him and shattering along the floor.
The sudden noise caught the attention of some of the bar's patrons, and Rinoa's skin flushed even though the chance of people actually seeing her were very slim. "Come on," she urged again, her voice catching a slightly higher note in desperation. "Get up, it's time to go."
Squall reached down to help her pull the man up but she quickly shook her head at him. "No, no, I got it," she insisted. "Can you just ask Roy if Caraway paid his tab?" With her elbow she pointed towards the bar.
Caraway? The name sounded familiar… "Sure." Squall approached the bar, taking notice of the two bartenders. One was a tall and burly man with a neatly trimmed beard while the other was an older woman with streaks of gray woven into her brown hair. "Are you Roy?" Squall asked the male.
"I'm Roy," said the woman, sliding a shot glass to the patron to her left. She wiped her hands with a dish rag and made her way to Squall. "Rosaline," she said. "When Rinoa was younger she had trouble pronouncing my name, used to call me Roy-say-lean. After a while 'Roy' just stuck." She glanced over to the corner where Rinoa struggled.
"You know Rinoa very well?" Squall guessed.
Roy gave a slight nod and clicked her tongue as she watched Rinoa yank on Caraway's collar. "I know her father very well, along with his demons," she quickly added. "The General's been coming here for years. Unfortunately, so has Rinoa…to come pick him up." She slung the dish rag over her shoulder and looked back to Squall. "His tab's already taken care of, if that's what she sent you over to do."
Her father? Squall thanked the bartender and turned back to where Rinoa struggled with straightening up the older man. Not the General Caraway? He looped an arm around Caraway's torso while taking Caraway's right arm for balance. Squall stood up straight and jerked his head at Rinoa. "Let's go."
Caraway stumbled at first, his feet sloppily trying to keep in time with Squall's strides. "Hey…what's going…what's this?" He adjusted his arm that was strapped around Squall's shoulders. Caraway blinked as he tried to focus on the younger man's face. "Who're you?"
"Just keep walking," Rinoa ordered sternly, walking behind the two men with her hands ready to shoot out in case Caraway decided to take a tumble.
Squall practically hurled the older man into the passenger seat. He watched as Rinoa dotingly strapped her father into his seat belt, brushed the long strands of graying black hair from his face, before pulling away and climbing into the back. With a quiet sigh Squall pulled the lever to bring his seat back to its upright position and slid in. "Where to?" he asked Rinoa. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror and he could see the quiet apprehension in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm really not trying to treat you like a taxi…"
"It's fine," he said. Again. "Where to?"
Rinoa let out a breath and glanced out the window. "Caraway lives in the Leviathan Estates community."
"Got it." He started the Jeep and reversed his way out of the parking structure.
The gated community that Caraway lived in—that Rinoa had lived in until she left for college—was quiet, reserved, and well sought after. Many first-time homeowners coveted owning property that resided behind those intricate wrought iron gates. It was private, closed off from the busy streets and nightlife that was characteristic of Deling.
Squall pulled up to the security gate. He was about to get out so Rinoa could squeeze through the window and the front seat to put in the code, but she just placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The code is 0528," she told him.
Dutifully he entered the code and the gate opened up for them. "Where to now?"
"Just go straight for a while and take the third right," Rinoa answered. "It's the house at the end of the cul de sac…with the red door."
A few minutes later Squall pulled up to the house and parked. As he exited and rounded the back of his Jeep he noticed that the house was more like a mansion—much too large for only two people, if indeed only two people lived there. His brows rose momentarily and he pulled open the passenger door.
Caraway's eyes were struggling to stay open, his eyes glassy and unable to focus. He looked at Squall and accepted the younger man's arm to pull him out. "Where's my daughter?" he mumbled.
Rinoa pulled her keys from her purse and hurried towards the door. "Come on," she said, tugging on the General's collar. "Get inside." She flipped on the lights and led Squall down a hallway. "We're just going to put him in the guest room," she told him. "I don't want to risk taking him upstairs."
Squall followed Rinoa to a room at the end of the hall. Its walls were built-ins filled with multitudes of books and maps. In one corner was a leather lounge chair trained towards a fancy entertainment center. The bed was a simple daybed covered with dark blue satin sheets and white lacey pillows. He half-walked half-carried the General to the bed and laid him down.
"I'm gonna get him a blanket…and maybe a bucket," Rinoa said, disappearing through the door.
"I'll be outside."
Rinoa paused at the shortness of his words, her lips pressing together as she tried to figure out what happened next. The answer was that she didn't know what was happening, not a clue. She sighed and hurried towards the linen closet beside the bathroom. She grabbed a towel, a blanket, and her trusty puke bucket. Behind her she could hear Squall's footsteps along the marble tile heading towards the front door.
When she returned to the guest room she found that Squall had taken off Caraway's shoes and jacket, even neatly folded the article of clothing before nestling it onto the lounge chair. She lay down the towel beside the bed and put down the bucket.
"You are so much trouble," she whispered to her father, lightly stroking the creases along his forehead. Had they always been that deep? She saw him only a few days before, had she not noticed?
Caraway grunted, his eyelids fluttering. His eyes opened for a brief moment, the frown that seemed to be permanently etched into his face softening. "Julia?"
Rinoa felt a sharp tug within her chest. For years she had been told by many that she was becoming the spitting image of her mother. She couldn't even imagine what her father felt when he looked at her. When he picked her up from the airport she caught the hitch in his breath, the slight drop of his jaw when he saw her. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, and instead he focused fatherly criticism on her tattooed shoulders.
"No, Caraway, it's Rinoa."
"Oh." Caraway closed his eyes and his lips thinned in almost a heartbroken disappointment. "That's right."
Rinoa lightly draped the blanket over her father. With a sigh she straightened out the puke bucket beside the bed and stepped outside. She chewed her bottom lip when she found Squall sitting on the porch. He turned to her, the cigarette dangling from his lips. With a sympathetic look he held out his pack to her. It had been several months since she'd had a cigarette, and that was because the project she had been working on was incredibly stressful. However, sometimes she had been guilty of sharing a smoke while drinking. She nodded, taking the cigarette between two fingers and leaning in close so Squall could light it for her. "Thanks," she murmured through the smoke.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds were the burning of the cigarette paper and the night time crickets. Squall exhaled the smoke through his teeth. "So…" he said. "Your father is an alcoholic."
He said it so simply, so casually, as if he had just stated the fact that her father was male or human or had black hair. The nonchalant manner of his tone made her giggle almost hysterically. "Yeah," she said with a crooked grin. "Yeah, he is." She released a deep breath and leaned against the post. "He was doing so well. He went to the meetings and stayed away from the bar…but, I don't know, over the last few months it started up again." She blinked and sucked on her cigarette.
Squall stared out into the front yard, his eyes scanning over the perfectly trimmed lawn and the pristine stepping stones that made up the driveway. Normally he had heard of alcoholics losing all interest in the upkeep of their homes to the point where it looked like they lived in shambles. However, Rinoa's father managed to keep up appearances when it came to home aesthetic.
"Is it why you moved back?" he asked.
Rinoa paused, her teeth bared as smoke slipped through her lips. Oh how she hated him at the moment. He was too good at reading people—at reading her—too good at delving deep into motives and behavior. Fucking SEED, she thought. Long ago Caraway had mentioned to her that SEED were trained to tactically analyze a person, but she had never had someone work the tactic on her. "Partially," she muttered through her teeth.
She thought back to a few weeks ago, when she got the call from Roy. "He's been making a few appearances," she had said. It was then that Rinoa knew that she would have to return to Deling. When Caraway had offered to take her to brunch the other morning, she hesitated. Each and every establishment he suggested had some sort of bar. It wasn't until he settled on the Phoenix Diner—a family pancake house—that she figured it'd be safe. He would be forced to only be able to drink coffee or orange juice.
She knew what was coming. May 29th, the twenty year anniversary of her mother's death. Caraway had taken Julia out for her birthday, he had pulled out all the stops: dinner, dancing, followed by taking her to see one of her favorite plays at Galbadia's most prestigious theatres. The night was perfect, romantic—Caraway had taken a picture of her beaming and elated face and kept a copy in his wallet—even the sudden rainstorm that washed over Galbadia couldn't wipe the smile off Julia's face.
She looked at Squall who was watching her with those steely blue eyes. "My mom was killed in a car accident when I was five," she said. "The anniversary's coming up in a few weeks." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked towards the sky. She had been avoiding coming back to Deling for years, but that last phone call from Roy made her realize that Caraway's descending spiral back into alcoholism was closer than she realized. "I can find work anywhere," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't a huge hassle to move back."
Squall simply nodded and flicked his cigarette over the wall.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Rinoa apologized. "When Caraway drinks he…" She trailed off and rather than finishing she let out a long and tired sigh before sucking on her cigarette. Her hand fell limp and useless onto her thigh. Some night, she thought.
Watching her movements, her constant aversion to maintain eye-contact with him, the jitteriness of her fingers, the way she nervously trailed off and couldn't finish her sentence…it struck a chord with him. "Hey," he said, his voice low. "Rinoa, has your dad ever hit you?"
That caused her to look at him directly. Her eyes were wide, the warm and rich chocolate brown completely surrounded by white. Her plush lips were dropped open in aghast. "What? Oh god—no," she said with earnest. "No. Caraway is a lot of things but an abusive prick he is not."
Squall held up a hand to stay back any more defensive words about her father. "I believe you," he said. "I was just…with alcoholics you never know. Some go into a violent rage when they're black-out drunk and some just fall over themselves. I just wanted to make sure that if you decided to stay here tonight that I wouldn't be leaving you in danger."
"Oh," Rinoa breathed. Then she smiled and gently placed a hand over his. "Thank you. No, my father has never so much as raised a finger at me—his voice, sure—but never has he ever been abusive."
He nodded and gave her fingers a squeeze before pulling his hand away. "That's good, I'm glad to hear it."
Things between them grew quiet for a while. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rinoa suck on her bottom lip and he felt his throat tighten at the fleeting memory of the taste of her tongue. He listened to her sigh. He wanted to keep the conversation going, wanted to tell her that his mother was dead too and that his foster parents were abusive alcoholics. He didn't want the night to end just yet…but nothing was coming up. What was he supposed to say? The girl had enough on her mind already, she was probably well spent. It was probably best that he left.
He stood to his feet and held out a hand for her to take. When he had her standing he shoved his hands into his back pockets and placed one foot on the porch steps.
"I'm…" She licked her lips as she tried to get the words out. "I'm sorry. You know, for all this. It wasn't how I planned tonight to go." She shrugged and absently rubbed her neck. She hadn't really had anything planned for tonight. Everything seemed to just be played by ear.
He was looking at her with his eyes still hot and flared like they were before she got the phone call. Even though the heat within them had simmered because of the circumstance, it was still very much there.
"It's ok," he said.
"You're not mad?"
Squall frowned and turned his head fully towards her. "What?" What could he possibly be angry at her for? "Over what?"
Rinoa shrugged, fumbling with her hands again as she tried to stammer out an explanation. "Well…I mean, I made you drive around Deling…made you feed me…"
"And your point is?"
Suddenly Rinoa realized how foolish she was sounding. "I…uh…just feel like I'm asking a lot of favors for someone you just met. I mean, I'm a stranger and I'm asking you to make me a burger and help me pick up my drunk dad?" When he just sent her a wry grin she nervously giggled. "Well, I guess that as a SEED it's second nature for you to help someone out."
He exhaled a short laugh. "It's not just about being SEED," he said. "It's also called being human." He gently tapped her arm. "I had no issue helping you tonight. We may have just met a week ago but I don't consider you a stranger, Rinoa. Besides, you helped me out too, remember? And you hardly knew anything about me other than my name and you let me sleep on your couch."
She smiled at that, she'd had a very similar thought about that situation when she mentioned it to Selphie. "True, very true." She tucked a strand behind her ear and let out a long breath. "I'm gonna stay here," Rinoa told him, her lips twisting into a nearly defeated scowl. "Watch over him, you know? He'll get me a cab in the morning."
Squall gave her a nod and reached for his keys. He shuffled them within his palm for a moment, his tongue running over his teeth as he thought for a moment. "Rinoa," he said quietly. "Do you have my number?"
"Hm?" Her eyes rolled to the side as she mentally dialed through her phone. "Uh…no. I know I have Irvine's because Selphie gave it to me to ask him for the password to Absolute Lore's social media page. But uh…no, no I don't have yours."
He held out his hand. "Give me your phone." When she placed it into his palm he dialed his own number. He ignored the ringing that came from his own pocket and handed the phone back to Rinoa. "Call me," he told her. "For any reason."
Rinoa smiled softly and tucked her phone back into her pocket. "Thank you," she whispered. "I really…really appreciate your help tonight."
"Anytime. I'm glad I was available to help you."
Rinoa's smile grew wider and she leaned against the porch post. "Me too," she told him. "I had a good time tonight though, despite the incident."
Squall lifted his shoulders in indifference. "Shit happens." He gave a slight grin and his eyes sparked with that heat that had had Rinoa frozen against the kitchen counter. "I'd do it all over again."
Before she was fully able to register exactly what he meant by 'it,' he was starting to head down the walkway.
"Oh yeah," he remembered, turning around to face her as he walked slowly backwards. "Our band manager Cid and his wife are coming over to the studio tomorrow, they want to meet you. They are obsessed with the photos you put up the other day from the day we met." He blinked and then snapped his fingers. "Oh, and pay you."
Rinoa chuckled at the last sentence. "Ok, what time?"
"One."
She nodded. "Alright, I'll be there."
Squall clicked his tongue and turned back towards his car. "See you tomorrow," he called.
Rinoa waved him off before turning around and heading back inside. She turned the locks, slid the deadbolt home, and leaned her back against the solid mahogany door. She let out a sigh and held her head in her hands. "What a night," she whispered. Her fingers traveled down the curves of her face and rested over her lips. Rinoa softly smiled as she thought back to how Squall had leaned in, how he cradled the back of her neck so gently before clutching the roots of her hair with subdued primal lust.
He was so polite, so tender…but beneath that sensitivity she had a small taste of the passionate and raw and carnal lover that waited beneath. She gently rubbed her bottom lip that he had nibbled on. She nearly broke into a giggle as she suddenly found herself giddily embarrassed. "What am I? A little teenager again?" she wondered aloud, thinking back to her first kiss at fourteen and how she ran up to her bedroom and squeezed her pillow as she squealed with laughter.
With an elated sigh she walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom to check on her father. When she saw that he was peacefully snoring she turned around and headed up the stairs. She made her way into her old bedroom and crossed her arms as she looked along its bare and empty walls. Since Caraway had given her the old furniture from the room, it was very bare, filled with only an old computer desk and television set.
Often she wondered what he planned on doing with the house. It was much too large for only one man who made no inclination of dating again. Rinoa thought he would dip his toe back into the dating pool a few times but she wasn't sure if it even went past the first date.
She went back downstairs to the living room. She grabbed the throw that was resting along the edge of the couch and wrapped it around her. Rinoa pulled out her phone and set her alarm before placing her phone atop the side table. As she waited for sleep to come to her, her mind wandered back to Squall. She wondered what he was thinking at that moment, wondered where the night might have gone if Roy hadn't called her to pick up Caraway.
Her lips turned to a shameless grin. Oh, who am I kidding? she thought. I know exactly where the night would have gone. She licked her lips and pulled the blanket over her head.
