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Descendants of the Mundane	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Het - Male/Female Views: 699 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Descendants of the Mundane and the general overall concept of Descendants
of the Mundane is entirely copyright Orin Drake 2003, as are the characters
Kyrie (Almasy Leonhart Kinneas), Rodger Kinneas, and John Sparda.
Obviously everyone else has been taken from various Final Fantasy games
and Devil May Cry, and other people own those. But you ought to know
that by now, right?

        Background: It was
a stupid idea I came up with while playing Devil May Cry. I mean,
come on. Daughter of Squall meets son of Dante. It sounded
so rediculously funny that I just had to. So I did. In the
beginning, this wasn't meant to be serious, or even to actually exist in
Kyrie's universe at all. It was just too weird not to play with,
y'know? But it grew on me. Damn you, Ky. I guess it's
set more or less a couple of years after the end of Retribution Nor
Redemption. Enjoy, I hope. Do not read, however,
if you've got a really narrow view of relationships or sexuality (keep
the other two stories in mind, in other words--Kyrie and Rodger have been
together for a long time and they're very secure in one another).
You might get warped. Heh heh.

        Also Note: In the interest
of... well, myself, really, this is written under the theory that "demon"
is a term that incorporates all hellspawn--"devil" is used specifically
for a humanoid, intelligent, "higher demon". So all devils are demons,
but demons are not devils. Just in case there's any confusion.

Descendants of the Mundane

Chapter 3

by Orin Drake
        What an interesting thing
it was to wake up between two very warm bodies, nestled comfortably in
satin sheets. There was sleepy puzzlement at first--then a very satisfied
realization. Oh yes... yes indeed... She'd be thinking
of that for a long, long time. Anyone speaking to her would be lucky
to get through that glorious stream of memory and find any coherent thought
underneath at all.

        She grinned to herself,
wondering exactly what time it was. Clearly she couldn't turn around
to look at the clock on the night stand. She didn't want to interrupt
anyone else's sleep, let alone end this glorious situation before it had
to stop. Staring at the crack of sunlight gleaming none too subtly
on the wall, it was probably just about time for the alarm to go off, anyway.
She was pretty good at waking up just before it did, in fact. It
was actually kind of annoying.

        Not really this morning,
though. It was quite enjoyable, considering the circumstances.

        Ah--there was that
infernal fucking alarm. At least the song on the radio was a good
one. She couldn't quite recall what it was at that point in her waking
day, but it had that driving backbeat and screaming guitar that made it
worth waking up; more or less. An instant later, she felt the body
behind her stiffen in surprise of the sudden sound, turning--

        The combination of being
ripped quickly (and loudly) from deep sleep, being so close to the edge
of the bed, and slippery satin sheets deposited John onto the floor with
a clear thud.

        Kyrie did her best not to
laugh. It was considerably hard, but she may have pulled it off--with
a few coughs. The amused expression on her face was impossible to
remove, however. Slowly, she took her arm from around her slowly
waking husband and turned over lazily to gaze down at the very bright,
very wide blue eyes below. "Y'okay?"

        There was a pause before
he was genuinely able to respond. As he opened his mouth, however,
there was another matter at hand. Firstly, he sat up and hit the
all-purpose snooze button to shut the noise off. Then he answered
the inquiry. "Yeah."

        "Glad to hear it."
She responded, immediately covering her mouth as a yawn overcame her.
At last awake enough to sit, she clumsily turned the alarm all the way
off.

        "I shower first."
Rodger mumbled, still laying completely still. Such was their rule,
like calling shotgun. Of course, he still wasn't making any effort
to move.

        "You can do it." Kyrie
teased before offering a hand to the still fallen boy.

        John gladly accepted, being
careful not to pull her down on top of him... wait a minute. She'd
laughed at him. A devious expression came over his face, just a split
second before he pulled a little too hard.

        She hadn't had the time
to counter in her morning state of mind. She tumbled with a squeak,
landing in quite the unladylike pile of spread limbs in his lap.
She glared up at him as he chuckled darkly, daring even to point at her
as he was doing so.

        Upon hearing the second
thud, Rodger sat up to peek over at the happenings, catching sight of the
interaction. The boy had balls, alright. He watched intently,
amused by her glare melting into an appreciative grin as she batted the
pointing finger away. At least they still got along in the morning,
that was important. He... he just needed a shower. Showers
to him were what extra large cups of coffee were to Kyrie. Without
the whole having to urinate right afterward thing. "Now, now, children."
He chided, finally lifting from the mattress.

        It was at this point the
last flitters of sleepiness seemed to disappear from John's consciousness.
He caught sight of Rodger standing, yawning, lazily running fingers through
his sleep-mussed hair. Yeah, the guy was kind of skinny, but he was
tone, too. Very tone. Not unlike himself. And he'd no
doubt been around Kyrie for a long time... meaning perhaps he, too, had
a number of weapons skills... He ought to be a little more careful,
maybe. Admittedly, all in all, he still felt comfortable, but...
Should he be behaving like this? Sure there was last night, but...
that was last night. Was he pushing things here? Being rude?
Digging himself quite the interesting grave?

        But then, Rodger hadn't
so much as given him a dirty look; only a little wave as he walked out
and across the hall to the bathroom. Add to that the girl that had
more or less relaxed in his lap and arms... was this okay? Was it
okay to be this... okay? Was he a fucking moron for asking in the
first place? Oh, what the hell. He copped a feel.

        That time his hand
stung intensely from her smacking it out of the way. He was a touch
alarmed at first--but she looked less than angry, clearly. "Fresh
bastard." She grinned, using his initial surprise as an opportunity
to get out of his grasp. Not that she really wanted to...
but
she did have to make it to work. She couldn't very well just
abandon Vincent to do the job he should be doing in the first place.
Sigh.

        He sat there for a moment
more, just glad she hadn't really been pissed. A number of bad things
could have happened then... Of course, he still needed to watch himself.
Stupidity and ballsiness in small increments.

        Calmly, she sat on the side
of the bed, looking almost as if she had something of extreme importance
to say. It was quite a departure from the playfulness a moment before.
"You are beautiful, John." She stated softly in a matter-of-fact
sort of way. "But that's not the only reason last night happened."

        He was clearly taken aback
by the whole situation. Firstly, "beautiful"--it wasn't a term he
thought applied to him. Not that men couldn't be things of beauty,
and not that he didn't think his father certainly could have been one of
those men, but... him? Beautiful?

        And then there was that
almost terrifying sentiment. A guarded heart on her sleeve, but held
out to him just the same. It was so... new. And different.
And weird. Very, very weird.

        He swallowed, seeing the
crimson eyes behind dark lashes as she pretended not to be waiting for
some
response. "Thank you." He started quietly, uncertain of himself.
He just wasn't sure how to continue. A million questions but none
of them translatable to spoken language.

        She pushed yet further with
those halfway hidden eyes--being utterly honest, but brutally to the point.
This was his trial by fire. It would undoubtedly drive him out or
lace them together. Now or never, build or not waste time and resources
at all. Scare him or reassure him; she had no idea which was more
likely to happen. "It feels right."

        Those three words could
have been taken a number of ways, meaning just about anything--but he knew
instantly what she was saying. He sure as hell didn't believe in
fate, nor destiny, but... he got her meaning. And it sat almost alright
with him, which in itself was a little concerning. They didn't even
know each other, not that well, not well enough to be... well, they'd already
been in the same bed. But that was admittedly different.

        The wide blue eyes maintained
unmoving contact with hers for several seconds before he finally managed
a verbal response. How it seemed her very presence kept him from
his often counter-productive over-classification of thought... "Kinda
creepy, isn't it?"

        Her only response was an
honest chuckle.

        John was actually very content
with their morning routine--they moved like he did. Up, each very
quickly showered, dressed (borrowing a shirt and pants from Rodger until
his own clothes were dry cleaned), and out the door; only then to think
about the rest of the necessities of the day. Kyrie picked up a large
burst of black caffeine at the train station before settling into their
comfortable private car on the Jet. Lunch would act as their breakfast
once they got to the estate. Not to mention it giving them a chance
to wake up before any work needed to be done.

        In one sense, it was as
if nothing had happened. John sat on one side, facing the couple
that sat close to one another across from him. Their conversation
was easy, flowing and all-inclusive.

        But in another sense, what
happened didn't exactly need to be acknowledged. There were tiny
looks given, gestures passed back and forth in a flirting, teasing manner
between all of them--absolutely natural. It was a completely comfortable
friendship, as if the three of them had grown up together. John wasn't
even feeling like the third wheel he'd been momentarily concerned about
sometime between laying awake and falling into a wonderfully deep sleep
the night before. For three people that had never really had friends
for most of their lives, they sure were doing well with one another.
Teasing like old relations, comfortable in their own glorious weirdness.
It was a great feeling.

        Vincent raised an eyebrow
upon approaching the small group in the usual corner of the cafeteria.
Indeed he was used to coming upon Kyrie and Rodger, doing something gross
or somehow inappropriate with food to amuse themselves until he'd arrived.
But there was a third there, this time. That boy she'd been with
the day before. Not just that, but... he seemed there by choice.
And even then... he seemed to be rather pleasantly comfortable there.
The words came out in a deep sigh. "Now there are three of
you."

        The man still rather freaked
John out. But he'd more or less gotten that this demonic looking
guy was quite an important part in the lives of the other two, so he did
his best not to stare blatantly at the claw or look frightened on any level.
Hell, he even smiled a little warmly and waited until the man had walked
closer...

        Admittedly, both Kyrie and
Rodger were floored. They knew without a doubt that John had spells
of exceptional bravery when it came to other things, but... They
watched in an awed silence as the boy actually rose from his chair and
presented his hand, stating in a friendly sort of way, "Hello. Name's
John Sparta."

        The really amusing
part to the watching couple was the look that passed quickly (but not enough)
across Vincent's face. It was something close to shock, perhaps.
Or maybe it was that look someone gets before their fight or flight adrenaline
response kicks in. Either way, it proved too funny even to laugh
at.

        Vincent considered the hand
for a moment. He had hoped that he would have been able to shake
with the claw, if only to have seen the reaction it got--but, alas, the
boy had either planned for that or simply chosen the other hand on a whim.
The kid clearly had guts of some kind to have still been hanging around
the other two. Not only that, but he sensed... well, he could get
details later, perhaps. Surprising even himself, he gave the boy
a casual, business-like handshake and introduced himself right back, as
he would to any visiting dignitary. "Vincent Valentine."

        The two still seated looked
at one another with the same jaw weakening thought--too surreal.
This was... so odd. And funny. And yet too odd and funny and
absolutely surreal to laugh about.

        John used his most powerful
asset--that almost friendly, absolutely cocky grin. Nodding, he released
hold and sat right back down. He barely caught Kyrie's thumbs-up
gesture.

        Vincent paused for a moment
more, knowing there was a fourth chair at their usual table but feeling
hesitant about it. Two, he could tease and mind-fuck and battle in
various ways with ease. Sure they gave him a hard time now and then,
as was expected, but... there was a third. A third of stupidity or
bravery--or a pretty good combination of both. Three were more stable
than two. Three against one. Somehow that thought bright the
slightest of smirks across his lips. A challenge, even for him.
At last he sat, looking as comfortable as ever. Addressing John is
his usual authoritarian manner, he finally began a conversation with the
boy. "How did it go?"

        Feeling the need to deflect
the blow that John no doubt had not expected, Kyrie commented offhand,
"He could teach you a thing or two, Vinnie."

        Rodger chuckled, almost
with surprise. Vincent looked somewhat amused, though indifferent.
But John rather suddenly blushed, trying harder than he felt he should
have to clear his throat or look for something on the ceiling.

        The deflection was a success,
however. Indeed the three of them would be dangerous--but not in
the worst of ways, so it seemed. Another conversation began, a little
more gentle in tone this time around. After all, if the kid were
"in", there was little reason to act around him any different than acting
around Rodger and Kyrie. "And where are you from, Mr. Sparda?"

        He felt indescribably weird
being called Mr., let alone by his last name in a place like this.
The only ones that usually referred to him with that were demons and devils...
but nevermind. He answered quick and clean, more or less knowing
the reply wouldn't cause any of the reactions he used to expect of people.
"Another dimension."

        Hm. Vincent
nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Slight discomfort, but not a lie.
Subject change--catch him off guard.. "Do you name your weapons,
too?"

        A slight heat broke out
over his entire body. He knew his pistols weren't that obvious,
how had he-- But the man only responded to his look of concerned
curiosity with a knowing grin so slight that from any further away, John
would have missed it entirely. Yeah, he could see this guy was in
charge. Not to be underestimated, clearly. But as for the question
itself... he looked at his "roommates" curiously.

        Kyrie grinned. "He
thinks its weird that we name ours." She looked at Vincent, teasing
subtly with her eyes. "But I'm willing to bet he's just not telling
us what his are named."

        An almost uncharacteristically
good-natured smirk crossed the man's face--but he dare not answer.
No matter what he said, she could find a way to fight back. Best
not to give her the chance to one-up him in the first place.

        Interesting. John
found himself feeling glad about not being the only freak to name his weapons.
His father did it, sure, and his grandfather, but... there were a lot of
little "family quirks" that he didn't seem to share with the rest of the
universe in general. "So... your gunblade has a name?"

        "Eleison." She responded,
her voice low as if speaking the true name of a god. Her hand automatically
went down to the sacred object being spoken of, caressing it with her fingertips.

        Oooohh. Somehow
it was just as powerful as a religious name, alright. It... suited
her.

        She turned to her husband,
teasing, "Go ahead and tell him what your favorite rifle is called."

        Rodger only beamed with
pride, impervious to his wife's undertone. "Lucile."

        If they didn't know any
better, they'd have thought Vincent actually snickered for a moment
there. John didn't feel so silly about thinking of his guns as actual,
named entities anymore. Looking around carefully, making certain
he was faced away from anyone who might see and object (hey, he didn't
know what the rules were here), he pulled them from his sides one at a
time and laid them on the table in front of him, introducing them like
members of the family. "Ebony, and Ivory."

        Even Vincent took in a breath--those
were incredible pistols. Distinctly and lovingly hand-crafted from
the tiny, subtle etches that glittered in the natural light of the cafeteria's
windows. He had to admit (only to himself, of course), they were
certainly impressive enough to be granted names.

        "Fan-cy." Kyrie winked,
already having seen them in action. That didn't make the moment any
less spectacular, though. They were some gorgeous weapons.
Effective, as well. The moment was put on hold, however, for a very
important reason--an old friend had just wandered by. "Nida!" she
greeted excitedly. If he was in the station, then maybe...

        "Why hello, Kyrie."
He responded with a wide smile, wandering over leisurely. "Rodger.
Vincent. And..?"

        "John." He introduced
himself. Hey, what the hell. Now everyone and their fucking
dog knew. "Hi."

        Kyrie poured on the charm
like an expert. "Oh, Nida..." she began, noting how he already looked
more than a little suspicious, "You wouldn't just happen to have control
of the Ragnarok for a little while, would you?"

        He knew exactly where the
conversation was headed before he'd even approached them. "I might...
Any particular reason you'd ask?"

        Vincent rolled his eyes,
making Rodger grin. They knew their girl was good at this.
But they didn't know how eager the pilot was to play along.

        She continued, ignoring
Vincent's silent rudeness. "I thought perhaps you'd be willing to
take us out for a spin. In the interest of our scientific minds.
And we'll buy you lunch, of course."

        "Of course." Nida
played along with only the hint of a smile playing on his features.
"Will you be joining us this time, Mr. Valentine?"

        At actually being singled
out and asked, the man stared back dully at the whole rest of the group,
their eyes on him. "I'm afraid I have work to do."

        Kyrie made a "yeah, right"
noise, and the other pair of crimson eyes rested on her alone with a mild
sneer. It was a quiet challenge, but a serious one. She knew
damn well he was incredibly nervous in a ship that could do three full
barrel rolls in 1.5 seconds. Not even they had known that one until
Nida had tried it--with little convincing. The pilot was just one
of the kids when he passed by from time to time.

        And Vincent stared back
stoically, clearly claiming that he was not "one of the kids". Oh
sure, he really was, in the end; but he did whatever he could to make everyone
else think otherwise. Her challenge was met with something akin to
a rude suggestion fit into a glare.

        John watched, almost in
awe. Those two were down and out vicious with one another.
But it was clear that there was a close friendship there of some sort.
Hell, if he didn't know any better, he'd have assumed they were related
if not raised together from birth; and not liking one another.

        "It will have to be a short
flight." Nida chimed in, pretending to be blissfully ignorant.
"But there's been a little engine upgrade I've been meaning to test..."
As if on the cue of some horrific, evil demigod, his cell phone began to
ring. He excused himself with a polite nod, walking a little ways
to the window to better pick up the signal.

        The word "damn" was almost
audible on Kyrie's face. Too good to be true. It seemed John's
initiation into the wonderful world of launching through the air inside
a mechanical dragon ship would merely have to wait.

        Nida approached them again,
bowing with apology. "I'm afraid it will have to be another time.
I'm needed, apparently."

        John consciously kept himself
from letting out a monstrous sigh of relief. Adrenaline junkie, sure.
Complete idiot... debatable.

        "You do what you've got
to do." Rodger joked.

        "Good to see you, though."
Kyrie added.

        "Indeed." Vincent
murmured, getting a barely audible kick in the shin for his sarcastic effort.

        The innocent maiden appeared
just as golden as ever, throwing all of her attention back to Nida.
"You'll come back and get us sometime, though, right?"

        "Of course." He promised
with a large smile. "Until then." He waved, bowed once more,
and walked away.

        When he was absolutely clear
of hearing range, Kyrie's attention turned back to the raven haired man.
She had just taken a breath, not even having worked out entirely how to
tease him, when he interrupted on another thought altogether.

        "As I said," he added a
trite little nod as if to finalize matters, "I do have work to do."

        I bet you do.
She successfully kept herself from saying. He was no doubt off to
plot how to bring John down as well. It also felt like he was leaving
to... give them space, in a way. How odd. "I'm sure I do, too.
After lunch."

        Vincent grinned thinly,
rising from his chair. "I'll make sure of that this evening, before
you leave."

        "You do that." She
threw back delicately, giving him a wave.

        John was looking at Rodger,
almost wishing he could put a voice to these sudden... concerns.
Talk about a love-hate relationship.

        Before the man was even
out of hearing range, Rodger jokingly dropped a comment toward their new
friend, "One big happy family. As you can see."

        "Yeah." He responded.
"I see."

        "Well then." Kyrie
changed gears. "Since Vincent won't be eating with us... should we
stop by and see if we can get Cloud in trouble?"

        "Oh, what the hell."
Her husband grinned.

        John didn't quite know how
to feel about that. Another one of their relations... well, he felt
frightened, to a point.

        "Not to be... too difficult..."
John began quietly, "But... are you sure this is the way to the mall?"
They'd been walking for an awfully long time through this labyrinth of
a building. Not only that, but they seemed to have left all humanity
behind several minutes back--not a bad thing, but scary, considering.
And dammit, he was getting hungry. Actually and really hungry.
That pizza must have reawoken his stomach.

        "We're almost there, believe
it or not." Rodger promised. "This is actually the easiest
way there considering the vast numbers of interns this time of year."

        Upon turning one of the
last corners in the labyrinth before the correct lift was obtained, they
actually found life. Not just one life form, but two.

        "Hey Laguna." Kyrie
greeted her grandfather warmly. "Kiros."

        It took John a few seconds
to realize who the first man must have been; besides the president.
He could see the family resemblance somewhere under the laugh lines and
the graying hair. The guy just reeked of being through a damn lot--but
he still had those deep laugh lines. No doubt a good sense of humor
was in the Leonhart blood. Or at least one sick enough to keep one
entertained.

        While Kiros nodded, Laguna
threw out his arms and rushed toward his granddaughter as if it'd been
years since he'd seen her; an unfortunate habit, never quite broken.
She'd gotten used to it, though. Or, enough. She even returned
the affection without a second thought.

        The Hugging Predator then
zeroed in on Rodger; unfortunately, this situation was about fifty-fifty.
Sometimes the kid got away, and sometimes he just plain didn't. It
was the challenge, really--Lauguna pounced, prey side-stepped widely, and
there went another battle.

        Kiros and Kyrie made momentary
eye contact, the man shaking his head slightly. Herself, she rather
enjoyed these odd little things. They added to otherwise boring days
at the office.

        All of a sudden there was
a seriousness across Laguna's face as he carefully regarded the new boy;
the new boy who had been standing stone still like a deer caught in headlights.
The man's eyes still sparkled in good humor, but that look... "Care
to introduce us?" he asked no one in particular.

        Kyrie took the initiative.
"Laguna, this is John Sparda. And John, this is my grandfather, President
Laguna Loire of Esthar."

        "Mr. Sparda" swallowed,
holding out a hand in hopes that he wouldn't be regarded as a threat.
In any way. At all. "Uh... hello."

        "Pleased to meet you, John."
He shook the offered hand with power and authority.

        "And you, Sir." He
tried his luck at being respectful.

        The girl in the middle of
it all had an unmistakable understanding as she watched their exchange;
Laguna was sizing the guy up. For a split second in time, she thought
she'd fall over laughing--Vincent probably told her grandfather what he
knew about this whole thing. She just couldn't picture how that conversation
had gone; an awkward series of possibilities began to flash through her
mind, one of which involving a diagram. She had to take a breath
so deep it caused sharp pains just to keep it in.

        There was a moment when
the silence seemed tangible, the serious look across her grandfather's
face almost natural in place. Thankfully that moment melted a half
beat later as he let go of the boy's hand and smiled once again.
"Don't let them get you into trouble."

        What an... interesting suggestion.
"I'll do what I can, Sir." He couldn't help the slightest hint of
a grin.

        Laguna nodded, indicating
that they ought to get to wherever they were going. "I'm already
late, but I'm sure I'll see you three later today."

        "At least before we leave,
if no one shows up again." Kyrie promised with a wave. She
took her leave and her delicate creatures with her.

        The president stood there
for a moment more, watching them take off down the hall and past another
corner. A new friend for Kyrie was a big deal.

        They landed right on target--practically
right across from Cloud's Shop in a little alcove where the lift's door
was hidden from public view. Sure enough, even from that distance,
the spiky blonde hair could be seen through the front window.

        She leaned in to John slightly,
lowering her voice. "He's the one that gave me the Buster Sword."

        His eyes widened remarkably.
"Him?" He looked so... small. Short. And, granted he
was a muscular guy, but... kinda thin. And that hair, man. He
could lift that sword, let alone use it?

        Rodger was quite amused
by the boy's response. He completely understood it.

        Kyrie lead the way as she
always did when it came to matters of getting people into trouble.
Not that this would literally get anyone into an unwanted situation, but
shop owners weren't supposed to take off on lunch breaks whenever
they felt like it. But she was well aware that, should the desire
ever come up, no one would challenge her. How wicked, really.

        Ah, Cloud Strife.
He was the one you could count on for constant naiveté--almost always.
But the instant he saw the three of them walk in together, he raised
an eyebrow. Subtle, but... certainly there upon second thought.

        "Care to bow out for a quick
lunch?" Little Madam Innocent requested.

        He wasn't about to turn
her down. Especially not considering... the situation. This
could prove even more interesting than their usual meals together.
"I think I can handle that. Just let me ask my supervisor."
He turned around, stood that way for several seconds, then turned back.
"Okay."

        John... wasn't sure what
to think. He was kind of freaked. And he was increasingly sure
it showed--though, looking over at the other two, they didn't seem phased
at all. The things a human being could get used to...

        The entire process of closing
shop was over with in less than a minute. Lights off, metal curtains
down, keys arranged and locking everything into place, and a pre-made "Back
After Lunch" sign hung in the front window. Apparently this was normal
procedure.

        Instead of going all the
way back through the lift and crowded hallways to the Estate cafeteria,
they made their way to the food court on the far side. That was the
charm of where Cloud's Shop was located; it was out of the way, on the
other end from where most of the foot traffic visited on a regular basis.
Therefore, there was less of a choice of food, but a hell of a lot more
privacy. And Cloud couldn't say he minded. After all, if customers
were really interested in his particular wares, they'd certainly find him.

        "Burger or pizza?" Kyrie
inquired of their newest member.

        He paused for a moment before
responding. "You really do live off pizza, don't you?"

        The blonde grinned to himself
at the question. Truth be told, if they didn't all have so much combat
training and Materia exercise, they'd be disgustingly massive in stature.

        "It's the perfect food."
She responded half seriously. "But the burgers are great here, too."

        "And you might want to hold
out for tonight's pizza dinner." Rodger added.

        Cloud almost heard a chime
in his head. This was getting funny.

        Up at the Uber Burger counter,
four Special Ubers were ordered (amidst the giggles that never failed to
accompany actually having to speak such a title); two medium and two as
rare as legally possible. It seemed John had the same taste in meat
that Kyrie did.

        And that thought made Rodger
laugh so hard he had to remove himself from the counter before the employees
got really snippy. He was not able to express his sick sense
of humor at that moment in anything but uncontrollable laughter, face in
his arms at a table.

        Kyrie stared at her husband
with a look of amused horror. She'd gotten the general impression
of his thoughts as he'd begun to giggle; and, admittedly, she wasn't sure
how she wasn't breaking down, too. Oh they were so not mature.
But fuck maturity. It wasn't this much fun. Considering they
all had better find a table and wait for their orders anyway, she walked
up to the hyena at their pre-selected place and accused, quietly, "Sick."

        Of course, that only got
another wave of laughter from the poor boy. He could not stop
the runaway train, and she was not helping. She was far too
sadistic at times.

        Now Cloud was very, very
interested. He gave an entirely subtle look toward the new boy, getting
a sudden shiver as he realized just how perfectly similar that hair color
was to... Well, nevermind that. He was clearly a different
entity altogether. Most assuredly because he was blushing.

        John did his best to follow
the other two without calling attention to himself. Not that anyone
would be staring at him, but... well, he felt like maybe they ought
to be or something. He'd gotten... a good enough idea of what Rodger
was laughing about. How, he couldn't begin to know--but it had become
more clear by the second.

        As all four of them were
seated (Rodger still giggling away with his head down), things began to
get a little more comfortable. Cloud was surprisingly quiet (well,
for him) and polite. Besides, he knew he could talk to Vincent about
this later, getting any and all details. He didn't even bother to
ask where the new kid was from; even though that and a million other questions
were starting to eat away at him. No, he kept to the normal conversations
of the constant rise and fall of his video game skill and the bets that
still hadn't been paid off.

        Luckily the food came quickly,
as it always did. And if John thought the pizza was something to
gorge himself on, he had severely underestimated the appeal of a good hamburger
and a mountain of fries. Food was swiftly becoming an obsession.
But what a pleasant one. Especially considering it kept conversation
to a minimum.

        Rodger still had very mild
giggle-coughs whenever he looked over at John, though. He just couldn't
help it. It'd been one of those stupid little things that just struck
him as amazingly funny in the moment. And Kyrie's silent insistence
upon being the straight man (for once) was really wearing on his control.

        And yet still somehow Cloud
remained the perfect gentleman. He was kind of scaring himself, in
fact. He could wait, though. Kind of. Sort of.
He was still relatively quick to eat and quick to pay--a strange
surprise for everyone.

        All perfectly calm, precisely
in control of outbursts, they accompanied the "adult" among them back to
his shop at his insistence. It was around that particular point in
time that John actually got an idea of what the place was.
Oh sure, on the outside it looked like a usual fashion boutique, really.
And then he started walking a little further in, past most of the front
racks to peer at the back wall--in silence. What... unique articles
of... "clothing".

        Kyrie's grin at his clear
reaction was far too hard to suppress, so she barely tried. Turning
to Cloud, she only nodded gratefully. "I suppose you should get back
to work now. And I should pretend to."

        He nodded back quite naturally,
being as nonchalant as possible. Though, he had reached under the
counter as she had been talking, pulling out something from a particular
cabinet used to store display extras...

        As soon as she noticed what
he was doing, an instant nervous curiosity overcame her expression.
She heard the crackle of a paper bag as something was placed in it; clearly
she wasn't supposed to see what was going on. All too quickly, though,
the blonde stood up and presented her with a standard Cloud's Shop, neon
pink text on black, gift bag. She... didn't make a move to receive
it.

        "Just take it, alright?"
he was grinning quite suddenly like an insane man. Well, more insane
than usual.

        At this point, Kyrie was
starting to catch the sickness. She was quite curious to know
what this thing was... "Alright, fine. But this better not
turn out like the last time you gave me something from your shop."

        "It won't be." He
assured her with a none too subtle wink. "I'll see you around."

        "Don't know about that one."
She joked, giving him a wave before stepping out.

        Rodger was fighting to maintain
himself, again. He had to fight even harder when he discovered that
John was still staring at that back wall in horrified interest. Breathe,
breathe... he reminded himself, ever so carefully clasping his hands
on the boy's shoulders to steer him out.

        Surprisingly, all conversation,
not to mention reaction, was halted until the lift door closed behind them.
And then the curiosity exploded from all sides, Kyrie holding the bag carefully
as though it could very well be a bomb.

        "So?" Rodger was the first
to prod at the subject.

        "I don't know." She
admitted, just staring at the closed bag for a moment. It had seemed
rude to look inside while in the shop. It was a gift, after all--she
wasn't the type to count money given to her, either. But now that
they were well out of range and her own curiosity was biting at her heels,
she pulled the bag open... and grinned quite appreciatively.

        Even John was getting exceptionally
curious--especially with that reaction. Nervous, yes. But too
morbidly curious to care. Now that the three of them were alone again,
he was feeling much more at ease. "Well?"

        She shook her head, still
grinning. Reaching into the bag, she drew the gift out on hooked
finger--a thin, red, leather collar. It had enough eyelets to fit
just about any sized neck, a simple pewter buckle, and a dark silver D-ring
in front.

        Oh, this was just... Rodger
let out a low chuckle, trying to keep in mind that his guts still hurt
from the last burst of laughter he'd suffered. He was just about
to ask if a leash came with that, when she lifted a red leather lead out
as well. It was a set. A nice set. As a gift. And
he started laughing harder, grasping at his sore stomach.

        John looked... concerned.
Did the world know already? No, he wasn't mortified or anything (especially
considering he didn't even belong to this dimension), but... He felt
like he ought to be concerned about this one. "I mean... isn't this
kind of... y'know..?"

        "Frankly, my whole damn
family is like this." She answered honestly, placing the gifts back
in the bag... and already coming up with lovely ideas. It was clear
in the devious sparkle in her eyes. "I mean, not in public, obviously,
but... yeah."

        "And yours?" he asked Rodger,
not sure he really wanted to know.

        The brunette smiled back,
recovering. "I really don't know. They're kind of... conservative,
in a way. But they like Ky, so something must be 'off'. In
a good way."

        She answered with an appreciative
chuckle. "So far so good."

        John found himself grinning.
Grinning.
And still standing there, among these people! Just...
holy shit. He was either very stupid or very comfortable. Or
the most fantastic combination of both. "Interesting place."

        She nodded, voicing a strange
thought that had just crossed her mind. "I'd go so far as to say
my parents would like you. Eventually."

        The new boy blinked.
"Eventually?"

        She continued frankly.
"Well, Seifer would hate you at first. But Squall would remind him
that he'd hate you because you reminded him too much of himself at your
age."

        A pause--not on purpose.
"You think so?" What did that say about him, really? Obviously
he'd never known much about her parents, but... was this a good thing?
Should he be screaming, beating on the lift door with both fists for some
sane help?

        "Relax." She felt
she had to remind him before his heart raced out of his chest. "It's
a compliment, really."

        "And that?" he indicated
the gift bag.

        "And this," she held
up the bag, "Is a blessing." She grinned, making Rodger start to
laugh all over again.
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Descendants of the Mundane