It was chillier out on the balcony, just a few steps away from the warm, boisterous party. Laguna let the wind whip his hair about, clinging to a frosty glass of alcoholic fire. The gatherings were morale boosters for the SeeDs now embroiled in the messy task of rebuilding. It was no trouble for the President of Esthar to secure an invitation to these functions. Rather more difficult to enjoy himself at them.

For the thousandth time he cursed himself for not listening to Ellone. She'd been four at the time, true, but he was increasingly convinced she had more sense than the whole lot of them put together. He could still hear her pleading voice, so high and soft, begging him to stay, please stay, Uncle Laguna...

And now Squall was a stranger. Laguna could have handled curiosity, or even disgust, but Squall looked at him like a non-entity, not even fit to be noticed. He showed more interest in the wild monster population. Hell, he was more interested in his hair than in Laguna, and Squall had the most miraculously attractive bed-heads ever. At first Laguna had written it off as the SeeD commando's usual demeanor. Then he'd observed Squall with his friends. The boy was no less quiet and authoritative, but there was a warm glimmer in his storm cloud eyes, and sometimes even a hint of smirk.

So much warmth in a cold exterior. Warm. Cold. It burned just the same, didn't it?

Laguna gulped his drink. It's time to give up, Loire. Besides, there would be so much more to deal with if you did reconcile with him. There's *that* thing... He shivered, trying not to think about it. You don't have the first clue of how to be a father.

The sound of booted feet startled him out of his reverie. Laguna made himself turn around slowly, an essential trick for a soldier-turned-politician who didn't like being sneaked up on. That, and he recognized the stride.

Squall wasn't looking at him, as usual. What surprised Laguna was that he was latching the bulletproof glass doors behind him. Laguna raised the glass to his lips, found it empty, and set it aside on the railing. But there was no declaration, no opening line to latch on to, so he let the boy gather steam to talk and contented himself with staring. Given the list in his step, it was likely Squall was drunk and wouldn't notice. Must be more smashed than I am. Or maybe not. I've been coming to Balamb nearly every month to talk to him, and now he's here and I've got nothing to say. Old fool.

Squall's loose bangs shuttered his eyes, the light catching on his cheekbones and making shadows everywhere else. It wasn't enough to trace Raine's features there. Laguna's night vision kicked in and he could make out the gleam in Squall's soul-deep eyes, the pouting curve of his lip, the solid muscle of his ass ... Laguna grabbed his glass before recalling that it was empty. Not this. Of all things, of all times ... ! The boy was his flesh and blood, for crying out loud.

Laguna bowed his head, walking the familiar path in his mind. The boy was also SeeD, a leader of SeeDs. He could have easily been Laguna's superior officer. And soldiers who served in the same war forged bonds stronger than blood. When the days and nights away from Raine (and Ellone and Squall) had stretched into long campaigns against loneliness, Laguna had learned much about those bonds. It was a deep old ache for Laguna, and because Squall was the commanding officer, the Lion of Balamb, it seemed no one had eased those aches in him.

Not that it made it any less wrong.

Laguna was distracted with those thoughts when Squall walked over and lifted him by the collar of his shirt. The thick smell of bourbon -- Kinneas' doing, no doubt -- hit him before the shock.

"I remember now," Squall said. Laguna's heart fluttered with excitement until some icy droplet of anger worked its way into his hearing. "Sis said you left us and Mother died. Is that true?"

The words jackhammered into Laguna. He struggled for his footing, reminded of the great height behind him. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I came back and you were all gone. I didn't know about you!"

Squall shook him. Frantically Laguna held on to his arms so he wouldn't fall. That's right, you idiot, that way you'll pull him down with you.

And Squall held him close, closer than they had ever been, his eyes cold and blazing. "Why did you leave us?!"

Laguna writhed in their dangerous embrace. "I'm sorry..."

"That's not good enough!"

And suddenly Laguna was off his feet, sprawled on darkest corner of the balcony, Squall's hand working between his legs. Squall had speed and surprise and more recent training on his side while the booze and, admittedly, his age slowed Laguna down. The lascivious fire growing in the pit of his stomach didn't help either.

"If you'd just stayed..."

The air was cold on his exposed skin.

"... maybe she wouldn't have died ... "

Marble colored friction matting dug into his palms.

"... I wouldn't have lost Sis ... "

A fiery whisper against his ear.

"... I wouldn't have been made into a SeeD ... "

Rough movements as Squall shed his own clothes.

"... I wouldn't have had to fight them ... "

He was pulled upright, finally aware of his erection when Squall closed his fist around it, shivering at the hot length pressed against the small of his back. Desperately he tried to twist away. He didn't know why it was happening. As much as he'd longed for a reaction, this would only make things worse. He had to stop before Squall did something he'd regret. Before his own body gave itself to the half-remembered wet dreams and didn't want to stop.

Squall sank his teeth into his shoulder, gagged his cry with his other hand, and Laguna felt the moment slide away from him. He wasn't sure if Squall realized he wasn't having trouble lifting his hips over his erection. Or if he heard the moan against his hand, or felt Laguna spread his thighs and relax his muscles. Maybe he thought Laguna's hands clutching at his legs were trying to push away.

Vaguely Laguna heard the orchestra through an open window and nearly thrust himself down in excitement. What if someone walked in and saw them? The President of Esthar being fucked by his own son, a SeeD commander. Nothing to obscure Squall's hand pumping his cock, his neck arching against Squall's shoulder, their hair tangling in the wind. Laguna damned his younger self for developing such a powerful kink for semi-public sex.

The pain brought him back.

"I wouldn't have had to fight," Squall repeated.

Oh it hurt. Laguna hadn't been taken in a long time, and what moisture there was hardly helped. But not being able to answer hurt more. The small mercy of Squall's hand on his mouth would have prevented it even if he'd had the words. He'd composed a thousand speeches, to inspire his men, to hearten his people, but locked together as they were, all his eloquence deserted him. Laguna's head fell back against Squall's cheek, wet with frustrated tears.

"Watch them be destroyed by my hand, not knowing. Lie awake wondering which of my friends are expendable. Wondering which of them will fold first." It was the same cold, familiar ache, this time chanted in his son's warm breath. Laguna clung to every word, afraid the wind would rip it away. He pushed away the desire and took it, listening to Squall's fevered babble, deprived of every response except the tightening of his muscles around Squall's thrusts.

"Wondering if any of them would care if I die."

I would weep a river. All your friends would. The girls, Zell, even Irvine. My god, boy, don't you even fucking consider it...!

Laguna's body betrayed him at last, spilling white heat over Squall's hand. Squall came a second later with a grunt of surprise. It was as though he hadn't expected Laguna to orgasm. Some part of Laguna thought they must look beautiful twined together like that, before the hot waves crashed white over his eyes.

They sat there joined for another half-minute before Laguna hoisted himself up, gritting his teeth at the pain. Squall was listless as a broken puppet. Laguna was panicked. Through tear-blurred eyes, he tried to find their clothes. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner they could talk and straighten things out. There had to be something he could do to make it right. Not getting caught would be a plus, too...

He turned to see Squall standing. The SeeD was a hunched shadow against the glaring lights. When he looked up Laguna saw just how much more sober he'd become.

"Oh my god."

"Squall, I--" Laguna fumbled with his zipper.

His voice sounded too even. "So I am that cold." Squall's eyes darted to the locked glass door, then up, as though he'd actually scale the walls to get out, his teeth cutting into his bottom lip.

Laguna spoke up before Squall considered taking the short way down. "Squall, we're both drunk off our asses, it's cold as hell out here, and we need to talk about this." Laguna wondered if Squall had figured out that he had experience. If not, that would account for a good deal of the guilt trip.

It hit Laguna just before the boy spoke. Squall had done this before. And as antisocial as he was, there was only one person Laguna knew of who could have gotten that close and taught him that well.

"He was right!" Squall's voice rose to a hysterical note. "Seifer was right, I'll always be--"

Laguna crossed the space between them in an instant. Formerly scattered senses resolved and focused, and Laguna cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. The palpable dread in Squall's eyes slammed down like a final metal girder in some twisted puzzle.

"Whatever Seifer told you, it's not true."

Squall's eyes widened. Laguna ached to see him so vulnerable. No... too late. Wounded. Deeply.

Squall slapped his hand away and took a halting step back. "But I... I just..." He gestured at Laguna's disheveled state.

Laguna glanced down at himself ruefully. He wanted nothing better than a shower, a med kit, and a year-long nap. But his instincts told him any hesitation would lose him weeks, maybe even months. So before Squall could run, Laguna lunged forward and pressed their lips together.

Squall shrank away. "No," he said. Laguna took it for a sound of disbelief and kissed him again.

As he backed Squall into the wall, tasting blood and bourbon, part of him recoiled. Manipulative son of a bitch. Isn't this exactly what you wanted, Loire? You're just feeding the perversion. You're just as bad as that Almasy bastard.

Laguna caught his breath. The younger man's eyes fluttered open and there was a flash of terror at an unseen phantom which wrung Laguna's heart.

I'm not like him! Squall needs my help. He is my son.

And in that moment of fierce, protective pride, Laguna understood what it meant to be a father. He'd gotten everything else wrong. He could not fail Squall now.

"I don't understand," Squall whispered.

Laguna slipped his arms around him. "You're not dirty. You're not worthless. You hear me?"

"But this is wrong..." Squall struggled a little, which only succeeded in giving Laguna a better hold on him. Squall didn't seem to mind. He leaned in till their hot breaths mingled.

"Then we'll be wrong together," Laguna said. With that, he dived in for another kiss.

To his thrill, Squall responded, tongue tip dancing out for permission. Laguna let him, bothered that Squall had learned to pleasure for forgiveness, but glad for any scrap, any opening. There was also no disguising the needy growl in Squall's throat. So Laguna wasn't the only crazy one after all.

They sank down to the same dark corner, Squall curling up small and tired. Laguna managed to find an official presidential handkerchief and wiped them both up.

"Laguna." He froze. Had he ever heard his name on Squall's lips? Either way it sounded like the first time. "I'm sorry."

This time the words came. "Listen, Squall. Way before you got it in your head to do this, I wanted it. I wanted you. Not because you're my... my son. Because you're Squall Leonhart, and you're just damned good at that. Don't you ever doubt it."

"But I hurt you."

Laguna shifted, still unnerved that Squall's voice was calm but his eyes were frightened. "You hurt me, but you hurt yourself more." He smoothed his hair from Squall's brow, and kissed it. Away from the scar, Seifer's mark. "You were right to be angry. I shouldn't have gone. Maybe the world would have ended, but we'd have been happy. I'll never forgive myself for doing that to you, and Ellone. To Raine, who'll probably turn over in her grave twice and give us both the finger."

Squall chuckled. It sounded like ice cleaving in the first thaw. Laguna continued.

"But then you wouldn't have met your friends. You probably wouldn't be a part of Balamb Garden. I totally missed all of that, Squall." Laguna sighed. "It'd probably be better if we didn't do this. Cooler heads, and all that. But we're stuck here, with this past, and that future, and maybe we should make the most of it."

Squall didn't say anything for a long while. It was a pensive silence, not charged like before.

Only then did Laguna glance up and notice the fitting coda to the rollercoaster evening: someone had drawn the curtains over the glass doors. How much had they seen? Laguna shook his head. He'd deal with that as it came. For now, he had more important things to worry about, like how to rearrange his schedule to include even more trips to Balamb Garden.

Laguna thought he was falling asleep when Squall finally spoke. "You... still want to? Even after this?"

"You're my son. You can't hurt me." Laguna huddled closer, whispering something he had never before admitted to himself. "And I think you're beautiful."

Squall hugged him tighter.

They clung together till the party died out and the ballroom closed, a tiny shell of heat in the blistering wind.

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