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Photoshoot	By : anyasy Category: Final Fantasy Games > Final Fantasy XII Views: 660 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
November 22. softness, compliance, forgiveness, grace

[A/N: I�ll get back to plot eventually. ;o not making much
progress in game atm due to study constraints, so it�s abit hard to write any
more canon.]

Photoshoot Arc: AU: Basch x Balthier

#1 Photoshoot
#2 Four slices of another man�s dream
#3 Picket Fences

Four slices of another life

1 Softness

It would surprise some people (especially Balthier�s
terrorized crew) to know that the photographer actually had a vulnerable
side.� Sometimes Basch woke to the
weight of a warm gaze, over his shoulders, or a cheek on his arm; lips against
his back, a body snuggled close; long distance calls from God-knew what time
over there; or coffee, and the scent of breakfast, hot water, soap.�

This morning it was the phonecall (he disliked those most; a
technological reminder of the difficulty of a relationship conducted with one
party in a dangerous job with variable hours, and the other in a job that
occasionally involved traveling).�
�Awake?�

�Mm.� Basch mumbled, squinted at the clock, and rolled
over.� �It�s five in the morning.�

A laugh, amusement, then, �Ah.� Daylight savings, I forgot.�
Australia is bloody hot at the moment, it bakes the brain.� Go back to sleep, then.�

�No, I�ll get coffee.� Basch balanced the phone on his
shoulder, and groped for the bedside lamp, and the robe folded on the
chair.� �Hang on.�

�You�re cute when half-awake,� Balthier purred, in the
middle of wherever (faint static in the background).� �Can�t keep my hands off you, when you�re like that.� Do you know you moan when petted in your
sleep?�

Basch blinked, as his mind processed that, then his body,
then his mind told his body very firmly to quit, thank you very much.� Dryly, he replied, as he went towards the
kitchen, �I don�t do phone sex,� and heard the answering chuckle.�

He could hear the smirk in the next line, even if he
couldn�t see it.� �I love how your beard
feels between my legs.�

�Balthier.�

Another laugh.�
�You�re at your place?�

�Noah gets lonely,� Basch quipped (though actually it was
the other way around; Noah preferred it when his brother wasn�t around so
much.� It saved embarrassing situations
where the girls he brought home got any ideas about bedding identical twins).� �How�s the shoot?�

�Great, once we figure out how to get the wild jumping rats
out of the way in a legal, non-lethal way.�

�Wild jumping rats�� Basch fumbled with five-a.m. fingers at
the coffee machine.� �You don�t mean
kangaroos?�

�They look like rats to me.� A pause, as the coffee gurgled
its way into the jug.� �How�s work?�

�Didn�t hear about it on the news?� Basch took the mug to
�his� armchair and curled up in it, drinking.�

�Basch, I�m in the middle of a desert full of jumping rats
and depressed climbing bears.�

�Sniper,� Basch yawned, then felt, a little belatedly, the
uneasiness on the other side of the line.�
�I�m fine.� Some bastard just
shot a few random people outside the Phon mall.� Still at large.�

�Jesus.�

Another gulp of coffee made him realize his mistake.� �Sorry.�
Didn�t want to make you worry.�

�Who�s worrying?� Balthier drawled, though there was just
the faintest hint of tension; by common consent, they changed the topic to
strange Australian native animals, local politics and the various intricacies
of the fashion industry, up until Noah stumbled out of his room, rubbing his
eyes and lobbing a strewn cushion at his brother�s head.

�I couldn�t stand the lovey-dovey anymore,� he grumbled, as
his brother laughed; on the other side of the world, Balthier snickered.� �M�going to use the shower.� We�re supposed to be in early today.�

--

2 Compliance

The worst part of the case wasn�t the difficulty inherent in
finding a random killer; after all, that was the Ronsenburg brothers�
unofficial specialty, in the Homicide division; or how they were shorthanded at
the moment because Drace had caught a bad cold and Vossler was away on pressing
family business.� It was the three
gray-faced kids sitting in a row, on a bench outside the interrogation room, a
world-weary social worker beside them (a wrinkled, dumpy bag in faded pink that
didn�t even smile when Noah greeted her, too busy glowering her displeasure at
random officers. Mrs Rose was a bad sign, in the precinct: it meant Underage
Collateral Damage With No Family).� One
girl, wheat-blonde hair tied in two plaits, reddened eyes; one boy, ash-blonde,
blank eyes; another girl, mouse-brown, woodenly calm.� They couldn�t have been more than seven, and didn�t look related.�

�Hey.� Have you guys
eaten breakfast?� Basch knelt down, so he would be on the same level (automatic
to him; he had always been good with kids).�
The children stared at him, and then the mouse-brown one shook her head,
slowly.� �There�s a great caf�
nearby.� Let�s go.�

�But we�re supposed to answer questions,� the wheat-blond
said, with a slow blink of eyes that should never have been able to hold so
much grief in one so young.�

Basch inwardly cursed whomever it was who thought it would
have been a good idea to bring in three recently bereaved kids simply to catch
a ghost of a criminal.� �Sure, and you
can answer one for me right now, listen carefully.� When the kids nodded,
carefully, he said, with a quick grin, �How does hot chocolate, raisin toast
and four types of jam sound?�

�Good,� the mouse-brown one decided, after a moment, then
glanced at the social worker, who shrugged.�

�I�ll get the forms and stall for time if they ask,� she
said.

�Noah?� Basch asked, as he picked up the smallest girl.�

�A second cup of coffee sounds good, if you�re going where I
think you are,� Noah said, picking up the brown haired one and grinning at the
boy.� �Boys walk, I�m afraid.�

�Okay,� the boy said, too automatic, no spirit to argue,
painful to watch.

Some color returned at the scent of thick toast, at least (hash
browns and cottage fries ordered as sides).�
They sat at one of the tables with the cushioned benches; Noah on one
side, with the boy, Basch on the other with the girls.� �So, what are your names?� Basch asked,
after they polished off a sufficient amount of toast.�

�I�m Ashe,� the mouse-brown said, primly applying a flat,
even spread of butter, before applying a flat, even spread of strawberry
jam.�

�Vaan,� the boy said, his mouth full (all types of jam, and
even some honey).�

�Penelo,� the plait-girl offered, with a shy smile,
delicately trying to peel a hard-boiled egg without actually touching the
shell, with a couple of spoons.�

�I�m Basch,� Basch introduced himself, just as his brother
said, �Noah.� Identical grins, which made Penelo and Vaan giggle.�

�What�s it like being twins?� Vaan asked, taking another far
too big bite of liberally garnished toast.

�Fun,� Noah grinned, just as Basch said, wryly, �It can be a
pain.� This time, even Ashe giggled.�

�It�s cool,� Penelo declared, round-eyed.� �Can you hear each other�s thoughts? I heard
that identical twins could do that.�

�I�m� not sure I want to know what�s in his mind,� Basch
said, dryly.�

�He�s just scared he�ll find out that I�m actually way
smarter than he is,� Noah confided, in a state whisper.� Vaan choked on his toast.� Basch snorted.�

--

After breakfast, the children looked at each other, then
Ashe smiled, a little tentatively.� �Um�
are we going back there now? To the police station?�

Their dread was obvious.�
The precinct, bustling and far too official, would be far too painful a
reminder of their loss, and the interrogation rooms had been built to be
impersonal, intimidating.� Basch arched
an eyebrow at Noah, who nodded and patted his pocket.� �How about ice cream?� he asked, then.

�I�m stuffed,� Vaan admitted.� The other kids nodded.�

�Park�s ten minutes from here,� Noah suggested.

--

Later, Basch was the to walk back to fetch the social worker
and deliver the taped interview with the kids (next to a duck pond, with
purchased breadcrumbs), having lost at paper-scissors.� The social worker was a stern, unmoving
block of womanhood before a harassed Chief (though the tape assuaged the
instant reproach).� �They didn�t see
anything.�

�Thought so,� the Chief sighed.� �Slim hope.� Damned
press.� The FBI is here, you know.� They�re the one who wanted to talk to the
kids first in the morning.� Since the
two of you disappeared with them, they�ve gone off to the scene of the crime
instead.�

Damned feebees.� On
the way out, Basch asked, �No relatives?�

�Vaan�s parents were recent migrants, Penelo�s from a
single, disowned mother and Ashe�s parents were orphans themselves.� Mrs Rose
said, with a heavy sigh.� �I don�t think
it�ll be a problem for them to be adopted, since, you know, with the media all
over this case, but��

�Yeah.� People who adopted kids made famous because of a
televised bereavement� had to be screened very carefully.� �They�ll be in an orphanage for a while,
then?�

Rose nodded.� Basch
grimaced.�

At the park, within sight, he could see Noah being wrestled
to the ground by three laughing kids (Vaan a limpet on a leg, Penelo sitting on
his waist, Ashe hugging an arm), and the growing, mad impulse solidified (it
seemed right, somehow).� �What
are my chances of adopting?�

�Which?� Mrs Rose blinked.

�All of them.�

�Ah.� Well.� There�ll be all those forms, and the fact
that you�re not� well.� Married.� May be a problem.� And you�re gay;
there�s a bias, right there.� �But
I�ve known you for years, so there won�t need to be screening there, for
character.� A faint smile (a rare occasion).�
�And they certainly like you.�
You and your brother are one of those few people in the world meant to
have kids.�

�Tell that to Noah.�
He hates commitment.� Basch paused.�
�I�ll have to call my partner, then I�ll get back to you.�

�You have my card,� Mrs Rose nodded.

--

Basch walked out of the precinct to an alley, once he
calculated that it was around when Balthier should be getting up, and
dialed.� The call was picked up after
the sixth ring, and there was a husky growl, �Is this revenge?�

�Isn�t it seven in the morning over there? I counted.�

�We did a night shoot an hour after I called you.� I slept four hours ago.� A pause.� �You�re calling from your cell.� Something wrong?�

�I need your opinion on a random, crazy and life-changing
decision.�

�Don�t tell me you feel you�re really a woman,� Balthier
said, in mock horror, then sobered, when Basch didn�t laugh.� �What is it?�

Basch told him about the kids, then added, when there was a
long pause at the end of it, �I know it�s a little unfair to talk to you over
the phone about it, especially since you haven�t had enough sleep, and you
haven�t had the chance to meet them, and the last time you talked about
adopting you might have been joking��

�You�re babbling,� Balthier said, gently, then chuckled
(startled).� �Next time try to make
random, crazy and life-changing decisions when I�m actually physically there.�

�Sorry.�

�I can probably cut my stay.� Two days.� Maybe three.�

�Sure? I don�t want you to do that just because of��

�Yeah, I�m bored out of my mind and I feel it�s a shame to
have a reputation for caprice when I don�t indulge it now and then.� A
pause.� �I�ll get Samantha to contact
you.� Balthier�s attorney: a power-dressing, slick-smart celebrity lawyer whom
Basch felt uncomfortable talking to (he always got the feeling that she was
automatically counting the minutes).�

--

Having absolutely no experience with adoption law and the
selection regime didn�t deter Samantha; she attacked the �little puzzle� (as
she called it) with same fierce prowling-shark approach as she would any legal
tangles her famous clients could hand her.�
Still, Basch was surprised when he was presented with final forms, to
sign, all in two days.� Samantha and
smiled (slick-sassy), mentioned some choice legal terms (he managed to catch
�for the best interests of the child�), mentioned a time and place,
promised to meet him there, and bustled out of the precinct.� He supposed dropping Balthier�s name had
helped the process immensely (at least under Samantha, who had likely said
something along the lines of �in a steady relationship, and a seven
digit income�).

Basch showed Noah the forms � his brother whistled, then
punched him in the shoulder for not saying anything earlier.� �And I�m going with you, of course.�

�You�re not the one adopting,� Basch said, dryly.

�Ah, but if they�re going to be family�� Noah grinned.� �Besides, I�ve always wanted to be an
uncle.�

�Really.�

�All the fun of parenting without the hassle.� It�s like vocational parenting.� I get to treat them to all manner of
unhealthy stuff, and I don�t have to do any scolding or think about school
expenditure and such.�

�Parenting without the responsibility.�

�Isn�t it perfect?� A pause.� �Where�s� you know.�

�Landing tomorrow.�
I�m thinking we take the kids shopping, then to his place.� Ours is a little��

�You mean my half of our place,� Noah said, dryly.

�Some of those empty boxes are probably growing new life
forms.�

--

3 Forgiveness

The children had been predictably fascinated by the gorgeous
penthouse apartment with the city-view windows; exploring the glass bar, the
large, flat telly (and the consoles), the soft red leather sofas, the thick
rugs.� With only minor hesitation, Basch
decided that all three of them would take the master bed, his brother the guest
room, and himself the couch.�

At supper (blueberry pancakes) around the designer table,
Ashe asked, a little quietly, �Do we have to call you Dad now?�

He smiled.� �No.� I don�t think I�ve earned it yet.�

�Um.� But.� Well.�
Thanks.� Penelo said, with Vaan nodding.� �We didn�t like the orphanage much.�

�Who�s the um, other one, your� what�s he like?� Ashe asked,
blushing a little in embarrassment.

�You can all find out tomorrow,� Basch said, just as Noah,
around a mouthful of pancakes and maple syrup, said, �Total opposite of Basch.�

�I wouldn�t put it that way,� Basch protested, but Noah
continued, waving a fork to accentuate his points.

�You see my brother, he�s too nice, polite, easy to bully��

�Hey!�

�And too concerned over whatever he sees as �his duty��

�We�re cops, Noah.�

�But mostly well-adjusted, thanks to yours truly.� One of those boys that girls take home to
their mums.�

�Right��

�Balthier, on the other hand, he�s one of those cats that
would claw anyone who tries to pet him� isn�t a nice boy, can be quite nasty,
and is really quite flighty,� Noah smirked, when Basch rolled his eyes.� �Not one of those sorts that girls take
home, but one of those that girls love to date.� The bad boy.�

�Funny coming from you,� Basch muttered.

Vaan blinked.� �Then
how come you�re with him?�

�Vaan!� Penelo warned, blushing.� �Sorry.�

Basch grinned.� �I
get asked that quite a lot.� I�m not so
sure, myself.� But he�s probably the
most amazing people I�ve ever met.�

�This sort of thing gets cloying after a while,� Noah
confided, in his stage whisper, as his brother looked around for something
expendable to throw.

--

4 Grace

Basch came home the night they made an arrest on the sniper
(a suspicious van with a sawed off hole for the muzzle; the sniper had been
careless, and had used the same van in all three incidents) to see the kids on
the thick rug before the thousand dollar stereo, listening to Frank Sinatra and
looking at a sprawl of glossy paper.�
�What�s that?�

Real estate advertisements.�
Basch blinked, picking up one brochure.�
Ashe looked up from where she had been perusing a folder of a house that
he would never have been able to afford in his lifetime by himself.� �Dad said to pick a house, because
the apartment�s too small.�

It was lucky he wasn�t really the jealous sort � not all the
kids had gotten around to calling him �Dad� yet, save Penelo, but all of them
were already referring to Balthier as �Dad�, and it had only been a
couple of months (he�d been so relieved that Balthier took to the kids
instantly).� Roguish charm, it seemed,
worked just as well on kids, even though it must have been obvious to them that
the photographer would be the �strict� parent (vegetables, bed-times,
studies).� �Oh.� Any decisions?�

�I like that one,� Penelo pointed at a seafront bungalow
with a stretch of white beach behind it.�
Basch knew he likely didn�t have to look at the price to know it would
likely cost more than the one Ashe was looking at.�

�There has to be a common vote,� Basch said, absently,
patted Vaan�s hair, and set off in search of Balthier.� The chopped onions scent brought him to the
kitchen, where Balthier managed to look hot and dashing even in a prim white
apron (or because of it.� It had taken
Basch months to stop potentially embarrassing himself whenever in Balthier�s
company).� Pulled into a kiss, the photographer
smirked, stroking fingers against facial hair.

�Like any houses?�

�You know how I feel about not being able to pay for at
least half of something we�re supposed to share,� Basch murmured, nibbling an
ear.� The blue Jag had been a point of
contention since its purchase, though he had grudgingly agreed to use it (more
�his� than sharing, that one, since the photographer preferred the Porsche, but
Balthier very obviously knew he wouldn�t accept a gift of such extravagance).

�You can pay me back in other ways,� Balthier suggested,
starting on carrots, Basch resting his chin on a shoulder, pressed behind
him.�

�Like?� Amused.

�More house work and chores.� Balthier rolled his hips.� And that.� Basch bit his lip, and took a deep breath.� There were kids outside.

�Doesn�t seem��

�Since I have money from a few good investments, why not?� A
sidelong glance.� �Besides, I refuse to
stay in any of those cramped inner city dreadfuls.�

�The penthouse?�

�Rental would be easy.�
I�ve friends with an eye on this place for a while.� What about you?�

�I suppose I�ll leave it to Noah whether to rent my half of
the place.� He realized that he had acquiesced, all without sufficient
argument.� �But don�t think I�m
swallowing this with good grace.�

�You can swallow something else later to make up for it,�
Balthier said, with a little smirk and a wriggle, and pulled away to fetch
something from the fridge, hips in an unconscious sway.� �Now, out.�

�Don�t need help?�

�Don�t want to vet their choices?� Leeks, then a
consideration of balsamic vinegar.�
�Besides, you�re a distraction, and even if the kids weren�t around, I
don�t want to have to disinfect the kitchen again.� Such a nuisance the last time.�

Blushing, Basch let himself out.

--

Getting the kids transferred to a school near the chosen
house (where Balthier knew the headmaster, the owner and nearly all of the
valued �donors�: a discreet private school for the kids of the rich, Basch
thought) was a little easier than wondering what to take with him.� Noah sat on the kitchen table, watching the
packing with amusement but without helping.�
�So long as you don�t take the beer,� he said.� �Or the telly.� Oh wait, I
want the lava lamp, too.� And the xbox.�

�Will you be okay by yourself?� Basch was busy stacking
books into a box.

�Good grief, how old do you think I am? Besides, I see you every
bloody day at work.� I�m surprised you
guys didn�t go the whole hog and move into Archades.�

�Paparazzi problems,� Basch said; they�d chosen a townhouse,
after all, close to Balthier�s studio, in the residential area of Sochen, for
the unobtrusively rich, compared to celebrity Archades.� �It�s a nice place.� Lots of extra rooms, for when they grow up a
bit more to want their own.� The kids were too close now, through shared
trauma, to want that.�

�So,� Noah asked, after the books were done with and Basch
started on the CDs, �Is there going to be a housewarming, and are there hot
girls?�

�There�s going to be a housewarming, and there�ll be Fran,�
Basch suggested.

�It could be pride, but I don�t go for taller girls.�

--

As with any of Balthier�s rare, discreet parties, those
invited were� esoterically varied in background. There was Fran, of course,
already the center of attention despite quietly sitting on one of the moved red
couches and talking to Penelo and another boy (the only other kid in the room,
it seemed); any number of musicians (Rolling Stones magazine, after
all), a few models of different sexes (was that Vossler chatting up a girl who
looked five years younger and several pounds toward skeletal?), the crew, and
some people he didn�t recognize and couldn�t remember even when introduced
to.� And then there were people from the
precinct, some of whom looked a little uncomfortably out of place (not Ondore,
but he supposed seeing dead people every day of your life made it easier to
handle those who were still living).�

Somewhere at the side a jet black man with a brilliant smile
had seated himself at the miniature grand and was giving Ashe an impromptu
piano lesson: that looked safe.� He sat
on the leather bench and watched tiny fingers attempt to bridge scales.� Then his brother poked him in the shoulder,
looking uncharacteristically harassed.�

They went upstairs, to the study, then Basch arched an
eyebrow.� �What?�

�One of the guys keeps��

Basch smirked.� �Ah?�

�It�s your fault,� Noah grumbled.� �They see that you�re gay, so they assume I am, too.� Especially the women.� Friendly, but the wrong kind of friendly.�

�Which one? It�s not like it�s a first time for you.� And whenever we�re in any of your parties,
the opposite happens to me, so��

�Vayne.� Noah paused.�
�Solidor.�

The pharmaceutical baron, whose empire encompassed several
hospitals.� �Oh.� Well.�
At least there�ll be health care.�

�It�s not funny,� Noah said, sharply.

--

Later Basch told Balthier about it, seated on the bed in the
master bedroom with his fingers curled into soft sheets and trying his best not
to come just from being licked.� Despite
very firm instructions from Balthier, recurring nightmares meant that at least
one kid wanted to sleep in the master bedroom at any one time, which meant, at
best, clandestine moments stolen in the other shower.� But the party had exhausted all three kids (or so he hoped).�

Balthier didn�t answer immediately; taking his time to rub
that pink tongue up a vein and stroke the tip around folds of foreskin, then
the sticky, flushed head; when he did speak, Basch shivered (warm air).� �Tell Noah he doesn�t have to worry.� Vayne�s a playboy, and he was probably only
trying to have some fun off a straight cop.�

�Aah� if you�re sure�� He racked his brain for something
else to distract himself with, but whimpered instead, at the gentle suck over
the tip and a swirling tongue.� �God.� Balthier.�
Don�t tease.�

A smirk, a nod, then finally, blessed wet heat.

--

The next day, balancing scrambled eggs, toasted baguettes,
brie, coffee and salad, Ashe looked up from the crossword she was attempting at
the dining table and asked, �Need help, dad?� and he knew he was really more
absurdly lucky than he had any right to be.

-fin-
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