Someone wrote in [community profile] fuckyeahfinalfantasy 2010-09-29 11:12 pm (UTC)

Almost Normal (FFVIII, Laguna/Squall/Ellone, PG-13)

What really scared Laguna were the days when it felt almost normal.

Those were usually the days when Squall was on leave from being the commander, or whatever he was now, and had shown up on his doorstep, staring him down from the other side of the cloaking screen, waiting with a well-concealed smile for Laguna to open the door. Elle would leave her meditations for him - and it galled Laguna a little, how she would always leave them for Squall but would sometimes leave Laguna hanging when he asked her to spend time with him. Not that he didn't understand, mind - Squall wasn't always there, and Laguna was - but still, it hurt his old heart just a little.

Or maybe he just needed to watch what he ate. But he didn't joke about that when Squall and Elle were around. They never thought it was as hilarious as he thought it was; they didn't like being reminded of his mortality and his age, probably because it reminded them of other things about this whole situation.

They were happy, though, after a fashion. They would have dinner together, and the room would ring with laughter. Sure, some of it was at him, but he didn't mind that. He'd never minded playing the fool. Ever since Kiros and Ward had died on that damned diplomatic mission... well, there hadn't been much laughter even when they'd still been with him. There definitely wasn't enough now that they were gone.

Squall seemed to understand that, too - probably better than Ellone did, and maybe better that Laguna himself. Did Squall still blame himself for the war? Did he think that he could have stopped Rinoa from trying to defend Timber, and dying in the last attack? Laguna didn't think that he should blame himself. Sorceresses weren't immortal, and Knights weren't invulnerable. But he couldn't blame Squall, either.

They would spend long, lazy evenings in the mansion, away from prying eyes, or so Laguna hoped. Without Kiros and Ward around, he didn't know what he was going to do if there was a scandal. He could see the headlines now: President Loire Caught In Compromising Position With Own Children, they'd read, complete with photographic evidence. This was a horrible idea, and when they weren't both with him, he knew it.

When they were both with him... well, he knew it then too, but it didn't matter as much anymore. They were both so much happier when they were all together. Even Squall would smile, once in a while, when he was wrapped up in Elle's arms, when Laguna come up behind them and stroke his hair whisper things in their ears that would make a tabloid publisher blush. He might not be the biggest, baddest guy in the world, but he'd been a soldier; he'd heard plenty of dirty talk, and maybe he was getting a bit wilder in his old age.

He could not remember the exact moment when their relationship had gone from a normal (if a bit needier and more complicated than usual) love between a father and his lost children to, well, this strange thing that left all three of them curled up on the den floor, mostly rid of their clothes, gasping for air. It must have been near the end of the war, when the three of them had been huddled together and aching with loss... he didn't know for sure, but he thought that it must have been it. And, well... it was wrong, wasn't it? They all knew it, and it must have been in the back of all of their minds. Laguna knew that it was always in the back of his, hovering at the back of his tongue, making him sick. He knew that their dead friends and loved ones would probably hate them for what they were doing. He knew that this would have to be kept under wraps, always; he didn't even go out into his own city with Squall and Ellone anymore, because he didn't trust himself not to do something that would maybe betray what they'd become and attract the attention of some reporter desperate for a buck.

But it didn't matter, how wrong it was. He needed it. They all did. And despite the way that it kept him awake at night, wondering if Raine was watching him in horror and thinking about haunting him or something, he wasn't going to tell them to leave. He couldn't turn them away, couldn't leave them. Not again. Never again.

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