Warning/Explanation: Take heed! In FF8 Laguna is, we're 99.9% sure, Squall's father. So this is, in fact, an incest fic and if you can't cope in any way, shape, or form then you might want to hit the back button now. BUT... Squall and Laguna didn't even meet until Squall was 17, as which point the boy was already a graduate of the equivalent of military academy and a ranked officer. So except for a little accident of biology, Laguna's less Squall's father then, say, Qui-Gon is Obi-Wan's, because at least Qui raised Obi in his early teen years! Laguna just sort of waltzed in a bit late. So it's not your standard squicky "oh yes father" (shudder) incest fic. A May-December relationship, yeah, but not chan and the incest factor is kept minimal (doesn't even really need to be there at all. Not for this fic, at least).
Also: this fic is basically tongue in cheek. Not trying for serious angst here. I'll write that some other time. This is just... what it says. A PWP that assumes they're already in a relationship, spawned from a fan drawing I saw on a Japanese page of Laguna in the most adorable little... well. Just go read. ~_^
Revised: I like to be acurate in my fics, so this one's been revised a bit. When I originally wrote it I hadn't gotten to the Esthar part of the game yet, so I was basing the setting on what I'd seen of Galbadia. Nobody told me Esthar was so different! O.o So I revised this just a bit, to add a little ambience in the setting. Nothing major and I'm probably the only git who'd notice. On the other hand, for everybody screaming about OOCness, I'm maintaining my stance that Laguna can be in just as bad a mood as anyone else! -_-
Eye of the Beholder
Squall paused at the office door, leaning against the frame for a moment on the pretext of reaching down to dislodge a pebble from the heel of one boot. His cheek rested briefly against the heavy wood of the door and he held his breath, listening.
Nothing. No swearing. No crashes. No sound of anything breaking.
Straightening, he glared at the door, as though it were to blame. He didn't, he thought grimly, put it past Kiros to be having a jest at his expense. The older man didn't entirely approve of his occasional visits, and had few bones about saying so. Still, Kiros had seemed genuine enough when Squall had met him on the landing of the main stairs as he came up. Kiros had been stomping down them, expression set in an irritated line.
"Going to see him?" Kiros had asked, jerking his head up towards the office. When Squall had nodded, a little hesitant, Kiros had made a disgusted noise and waved him on. "Better you then me," the older man had snapped. "He's in a mood. If he asks, I'm not here." Before Squall could ask what he meant Kiros had been gone, stalking down the stairs, and Squall had heard the hum of the platform lift as he left.
Squall sighed, raking a hand through the loose strands of his hair as he stared at the door. Nothing. Silence. No other clues, at all, as to what to expect from the interior of the office.
Reaching out, he thumbed the intercom. "Laguna?"
The response was immediate and answered his question. "What?" a voice barked angrily. Shaking his head, Squall opened the door, slipping inside.
The President of Esthar, in Squall's experience, was the least authoritative looking politician he had ever seen. Long dark hair caught back in a thong, tanned from the summer weather with his shirt sleeves rolled up and collar undone, a pair of sunglasses shoved up on the top of his head - behind the large glass desk that was mostly drowned in paper and computer printouts, he looked like what he'd always claimed to be; a retired journalist, instead of the leader of a country.
He also, if Squall was any judge, looked like a man who was sulking.
Laguna looked up from the papers he was signing as Squall came in, scowling. "Oh, it's you. Where's Kiros? And shut that damned door."
It wasn't "Hello, Squall, it's great to see you, how have you been" but neither of them were particularly good at such things. Squall stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind him. Crossing to the large desk, he moved a closed laptop aside to clear enough space to rest one hip on. Laguna was growling to himself, handwriting mostly illegible as he quickly scrawled out another signature and tossed the documents to one side before grabbing up another from a much larger stack.
"Kiros left," Squall told him. "Did you two have a fight? Or did he just leave you with all the work?"
Laguna snarled something Squall didn't quite catch. "Fine," he snapped then. "If you're here, be useful. Go turn on the light. It's too dark in here to read."
"You ought to open the blinds," Squall countered. "It's a nice day outside." But Laguna just glared at him and with a shrug Squall went to switch on the wall lamps around the room, the warm tint of their lights giving the large office a softer glow.
Laguna swivled his chair around to be closer to one of them, glaring at the document he was reading. Squall settled himself back on the corner of the desk, watching as the older man flipped through the papers and finally, with a snort, scrawled another signature on the last page and pitched it towards the 'done' pile before reaching for a new stack. That one he tilted further towards the light, swearing. "Damn it... they can't expect anyone to look at these things if they don't make them readable!"
"Here." Squall leaned back across the desk, reaching to tug the paper from Laguna's hand. "Let me see."
The older man surrendered the document grudgingly, watching through narrowed eyes as Squall scanned over the papers. Shrugging, Squall handed them back. "It looks fine to me."
The look on Laguna's face told him that wasn't at all the answer the older man had been looking for. The president snatched them back and this time, when he held them to the light to read, he held them at arm's length, glare thunderous. A craned neck and squinted eyes didn't seem to accomplish what he was looking for and finally, swearing loudly, Laguna slipped the glasses he had shoved up into his hair back down over his eyes.
Squall blinked. They weren't, as he'd first thought, sunglasses. They were a pair of small, gold rimmed reading glasses.
"Those are new," he commented mildly. Laguna shot him a look that might have been deadly under other circumstances and thumped the papers back down on the desk, scribbling a note on them so hard that his pen tip tore a hole in the page. Squall wisely said nothing after that and the older man went through several more documents, furiously glaring at them all, lips pressed angrily tight.
Finally Laguna flung his pen down, turning the glare back on Squall. "Well?" he demanded. "Don't just sit there. Go ahead and fucking say it."
"Say what?" Squall asked.
"What you're thinking," Laguna snarled. He slipped the glasses off, looking as though he'd like to throw them across the room. "You might as well. Kiros already did. 'You look serious,'" he mimiced viciously, then swore. "Like I have to look like someone's damn grandfather to look serious!"
"You think they make you look old?" Squall asked, surprised. Laguna, however, was having none of it.
"There, you see?" he demanded, as though the word on Squall's lips was all the proof he needed. He slammed the glasses down on a stack of printouts. "God *damn* it. I don't fucking need these. I was down at the shooting range just the other day - my eyes are *fine*!"
"You're far sighted," Squall countered. "You only need them to read, right? Besides, I wasn't going to say they made you look..."
"Old," Laguna repeated furiously. "They make me look..."
"Dignified," Squall suggested, searching for a word that might make the man feel better about it. He honestly wasn't quite sure either what the fuss was, or what he himself thought they did to Laguna's appearance. It wasn't bad, he decided. Just...
"Blind," Laguna spat. Kicking his chair back, he got to his feet and headed for the door. "Fuck it. I'm not doing any more of this today."
He had left the glasses where they lay. Squall picked them up curiously, examining them. The design was subdued, the gold frames thin and almost delicate. When he held them up a glance through the lenses showed that they were, in fact, nothing but polished glass - only small half circles set in the lower part of the lens were ground to a prescription, blurring the colors of the room as he looked through them.
Laguna was almost to the door when Squall's voice stopped him. "Cute."
The older man half turned back, his expression incredulous. "What?"
Squall rested his weight on the edge of the desk, using both hands to cautiously slip the glasses on. They felt strange, a little too big for his face, and he left them perched on the end of his nose where he could look up through the clear portion without the stomach churning distortion of the bifocals. "They make you look..." he hesitated, considering the word carefully, then nodded slightly, "cute."
"Cute?" Laguna repeated in disbelief.
"Different," Squall decided, "but in a good way. Distinguished." Leaning back on his arms, he shrugged slightly, the motion sending one side of his leather jacket slipping down his shoulder. He made certain he had Laguna's full attention before uttering the next word in a lower voice, the barest ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Desireable."
That won him the response he wanted. Laguna turned around fully, facing him. He was still frowning, but he was having to work to maintain the expression, his usual grin struggling to resurface with a pleased look to it. "Say that again," he ordered.
Squall smiled indulgently, the unusual gesture brightening his face. "Desireable," he repeated firmly, watching the older man's eyes light up. "Sexy," he added deliberatly, pronouncing the word with slow relish, giving each syllable its own exhale with a tiny pause between.
Laguna could move quickly when he wanted to. Squall only had time to draw a small breath before the older man was on him, hands sweeping the papers to either side out of the way as Laguna leaned down, trapping him against the desk. Squall tipped his head back, looking past the rim of the glasses to meet the bright green of Laguna's eyes with a challenging stare.
The heat in the bare space between their bodies held a promise all its own, one echoed in the warm brush of Laguna's playfully breathed words against his cheek and lips. "Is this what you wanted? Because if you say that again, I won't be held responsible."
Squall didn't answer immediately. Reaching up, he slipped the glasses off. Turning them around, he carefully slid them onto Laguna, ignoring the way the other man tensed. Tilting his head, he contemplated the result.
"Well?" Laguna drawled, the frown threatening once more.
Leaning forward, Squall reached around the other man's shoulders to pull the band loose from his hair, setting the long strands free to fall around his face. The dark color was touched with grey and he could see strands of silver winding through it, but Laguna had weathered the years remarkably well. In the occasional times he was willing to admit he bore more than a passing resembalance to the other man, even Squall was inclined to say they looked more like older and younger brother than anything else.
His fingers trailed down across the open collar of Laguna's shirt, toying with the first fastened button. "Sexy," he confirmed.
He caught a flash of a wolfish grin before Laguna pounced, the hard press of lips across his own stealing his breath away. Squall fisted his hands in the older man's shirt, dragging him bodily closer until they were pressed together, the polished edge of the desk biting into his thighs as Laguna ground slowly against him.
A small moan burst free as the kiss broke. Squall arched up, letting go long enough to let Laguna push his jacket off onto the desk, paper stacks tipping over to flutter in clouds to the floor. Then he reached out again, fingers attacking the buttons of Laguna's shirt. "You're wearing too much," he complained.
Laguna hesitated, his hands sliding beneath Squall's shirt to slip warm across his ribs. "Squall..." He tried, halfheartedly, to pull away slightly. "Wait. I didn't lock the door. Kiros..."
"Already knows what your ass looks like," Squall growled bluntly, tugging on the shirt to free it from Laguna's belt. "Besides, he left. I told you that."
"He's not the only one here," Laguna protested, but his hands had dropped to Squall's belts, unfastening the wide strips of leather to let them drop with a heavy clatter to the floor.
"He's the only one who'd walk in without warning," Squall pointed out. He triumphantly wrestled the shirt off of Laguna, tossing it behind the desk before reaching to pull the older man back down again. His tongue trailed a line across the man's tanned throat, drawing a low hum of pleasure in its wake. Hands slipped back beneath his shirt to tease across his stomach and chest before they slowly pushed him backwards.
Papers crinkled beneath his shoulders, the sharp line of a pen digging in just above one hip, but Squall didn't care. He arched his back, breath catching slightly as he watched Laguna lean down, the loose strands of the man's hair brushing spider soft trails across the younger man's stomach. Strong hands slid up the inside of his thighs, pushing his legs farther apart, the teasing touch making him moan softly.
The warm, wet tip of a tongue slid up his ribs, his shirt pushed up and away. Squall caught at handfulls of silken hair, the moan becoming full voiced as Laguna's lips closed across a nipple, teeth grazing lightly, the warm flush of it sweeping through him. "Yes..."
The older man's soft chuckle vibrated through his chest. Fingers slipped between them, finding the buttons of Squall's pants and tugging them free. The younger man caught his breath, hissing, his hands tightening on the other's hair. "Laguna -"
The other man pulled free and moved up to kiss him again, silencing him. His weight slid between Squall's thighs, bearing down in a slow, grinding thrust that made them both gasp. Squall's fingertips found the older man's belt; hooking them into it, he tugged, breaking the kiss with a low growl. "Get these *off*."
"Demanding," Laguna complained breathlessly, but he leaned back, his hands making short work of the task. Squall shivered, reaching up, the air of the room cool against his flushed skin.
Laguna caught his wrists, pushing them down against the desk. Pinned, Squall could only gasp, arching, as the older man leaned down, their erections sliding slowly against each other. Deliberate thrusts, teasing, the desk too high and too wide for him to find any leverage against it. His breath broke in a frustrated sob as he twisted, trying to urge the other man on. "Fuck... Laguna... ah!" The cry was hoarse and low, breathless, as Laguna's lips fastened against his neck, drawing hard against the tender skin. "Ah... please..."
His wrists were released, Laguna's hands going to his hips to lift and hold, sliding roughly across his thighs. Squall threw back his head, breath coming in harsh gasps as they moved together, the rhythm faster and harder, driving his shoulders into the surface of the desk. "Yes... Yessss...."
It swept through him in a slow building wave, cresting hot and tight through his groin as the orgasm burst. Squall shuddered, lip caught between his teeth, breath a muffled whimper as he tried not to cry out. Laguna was less restrained, his groan harsh and loud as he climaxed, his grip against Squall's hip bruisingly tight.
For long moments the only sound was their labored breaths. Squall caught at Laguna's hair where it trailed across his chest, tugging the other man's head up to kiss him, teeth catching gently at his lips.
Laguna half opened his eyes, his smile lopsided. Cheeks flushed, his hair disheveled and falling across his face; Squall grinned suddenly, laughing. Laguna cocked his head slightly, his look turning puzzled. "What?"
Squall slid the tip of one finger up the bridge of the other man's nose, pushing up the frame of the small glasses. The edges of the lenses, where they rested against Laguna's heated skin, were fogged over. "Definately sexy," he decided.
Laguna smiled, leaning down to press home another kiss, his tongue sliding slowly across Squall's lips until the younger man shivered. "Guess I'll have to keep them, then," he breathed, his lips trailing a path of tiny kisses across the line of jaw and throat. "Old men like me need all the help they can get..."
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