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The Sins of Two Fathers	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 687 -:- 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
- 3
- 4
- 5
"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall
concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake
1999-2005, as are the characters Kyrie and Rodger and some more random
people that don't matter as much. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall
Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The
Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are
the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of
other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you
know. Enough said. Oh yeah, and there are plenty of spoilers
everywhere for everything. That about covers it.

        Background:
To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious
story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan
fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually...
endearing. What have I done?! Ah well. Lesse, there's
a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything
in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like
my nasty language, so look out. Angst, I love putting angst everywhere.
That's about it for now. I will warn you, though, that FF characters
actually don't make up a lot of this story, especially not in the beginning.
I will make it up to you all some day. Enjoy. **WARNING** This
chapter contains frank sexual discussion. If you are uncomfortable
with homosexuality or kink, just go away, alright?

The Sins of Two Fathers

Chapter 4

by Orin Drake
        She knew she'd packed that
shirt for something. Why Seifer had chosen to buy it for her in the
first place was a mystery. A father wants to protect his daughter,
not put her on display. Then again, she was never the normal girl.
No boyfriends, not much care in dressing, and no one to impress.
It well could have been a gift of wishful thinking.

        Pulling the shirt off of
the hanger, she turned it around several times. There was a dull,
silken shimmer to it; not too demanding of attention, but a fabric that
would inspire someone to think it was nice, at least. Not expensive,
just nice. There was a difference. It was a burgundy-crimson
much darker than that of her eyes, with a form-fitting hug to it and tight
sleeves that were slit on the underside three inches above the wrist to
rest open. There was a slight collar to it, just to hug the back
of her neck and let her hair slide freely, and the front was lace-up with
a black ribbon as opposed to buttons or snaps. But the real feature
of this shirt was the back; a large diamond of fabric was completely missing
nearly from neck to waist, shoulder to shoulder. It actually looked
more like a cross than a diamond, the sides of the shape moved subtly inward.
That's why she loved it. And possibly shy she'd never worn it before.

        While she didn't have a
full-length mirror in her room here, she didn't need one. It felt
good, therefore it worked well. Comfort was of main concern.
The shock value was added benefit. With a slightly sadistic smile,
she unbuckled her new belt and slid her hand along it's length; and discovered
something. She certainly hadn't seen it before. Upon closer
inspection, it was pretty clear why; this was a gunbelt. Each bullet
compartment was carefully hidden on the inside of the belt with almost
invisible stitching and extra thin leather panels. Ingenious.
And really very simple. Why the idea hadn't seemed to occur to her
before wasn't something she liked to think about. It made her feel...
stupid.

        The belt was to stay on
through the evening, that much was decided. She couldn't help but
wonder if Cloud had known all of its secrets when he'd given it to her.
And then, along that line of thought, where had he gotten it in the first
place? It wasn't a fashion belt. It was too useful to be just
another pretty accessory for someone. The next time she visited her
grandfather, she'd make it a point to ask. But politely. Gift
horses and so on.

        Lastly, the boots.
She only had one pair of footwear. There was never a need for anything
else. Sure, they were getting old and ragged, but the leather still
held. She'd had to glue the soles back together a number of times,
but they were still... relatively solid. Comfortable, at least.

        One last run of her fingers
through her hair, and she was set. This would probably be the first
date in history that involved a gunblade every step of the way. But,
patting the precious weapon at her side, she doubted her new friend would
expect anything less. She kinda liked that Rodger.

        After one more satisfactory
christening of her very own bathroom, she waited at her desk, staring blankly
at a constantly moving screen saver. It wasn't TV, but it was just
as good. Better plot than most shows, anyway. The characters,
though... About thirty seconds past seven (not that she was counting),
there was a knock at her door.

        How droll, she thought,
getting up to answer it. A knock instead of that annoying buzzer.
Another plus point.

        On the other side of the
door stood her date, looking exactly the same as he had earlier.
Well, nearly. The jeans were a little less faded than his others,
and the black shirt was actually what one would consider black. But
that was him, alright. Before she had the chance to make a teasing
comment, he handed her something wrapped in clear plastic.

        She took it graciously,
laughing. "A muffin."

        Rodger grinned shyly.
"They don't sell candy in the cafeteria." As he finally had the opportunity
to notice her new shirt, he surreptitiously tried to snap his jaw shut.
It fit her well. Really, really well. There was a pleasant
surprise in that, alright.

        "Shall we?" his date invited,
trying to get him to back up so she could walk out the door.

        "Yes." He agreed instantly.
"Yes, let's."

        She slipped out of her doorway
and used the lock code without turning her back to him. She wanted
to keep the surprise until the last possible minute. It'd come as
a shock in one way or another, she hoped. She did live to surprise.
With a smile and a nod, she indicated that she was ready to go.

        He had no intentions of
bringing her anywhere but the Garden's cafeteria. And he felt a little
foolish for that, especially since it was Kyrie that had made dinner plans.
"I, uh... I'm sorry I don't really have the... money at the moment to take
you out somewhere..." he started to apologize.

        "Don't worry about it."
She cut him off. "Me either. Besides, I don't really like fancy
places."

        That probably shouldn't
have surprised him. It didn't, actually. It was the fact she'd
said it straight out that was a little surprising. But refreshing.
They began to walk.

        The hallways were amazingly
empty for that time of night in Garden. There were students here
and there in the hallways, but only small groups. Very few were playing
cards, and fewer still were talking in loud or joyful voices. A hush
seemed to have fallen as darkness overwhelmed the outside; it was the first
time many of them had been away from home. Perhaps the majority of
the new students (and even some of the old) were just spending time adjusting
to their environments. Or catching up on sleep. Either way,
Kyrie hoped it meant a pleasant, relatively quiet cafeteria atmosphere.

        In a vain attempt to be
a gentleman, Rodger slithered his arm around her shoulder. It was
at that point he discovered the other jaw-dropping feature of this particular
shirt. He let the curse forming on his lips slip into an inaudible
sigh.

        But Kyrie felt his chest
heave. "You like it?" she asked under her breath.

        Caught now, wasn't he?
"Yes." He admitted. "It's... very nice." Several questions
and a number of comments came to mind... but, wisely, he decided to keep
them there. He was not about to screw up a good thing.

        They rode the "cafeteria
express" escalator up two floors with almost no one around. There
were a few instructors wandering, and a couple of older looking students
in the odd corner with books. For the most part, though, it seemed
even more abandoned. Private. And that was very nice.

        Even the cafeteria, the
center of the student world, had an unnatural hush to it. There were
some people having dinner or dessert, but the voices were low and located
more or less all to one side. Excellent for the anti-socials who
chose to sit on the other side of the room. They glanced at one another
and nodded before making their way to the most distant table possible.

        Finishing her duties for
the night, Quistis raised an eyebrow and approached, having caught a glance
at what Kyrie was wearing. Lovely though it was, there was quite
the obvious exposed back. That wasn't necessarily against any of
the rules, but it wasn't presented as particularly okay, either.

        Kyrie looked behind her
as she heard footsteps, noting the look on her aunt's face. "Quistis,
this is the wildest thing I'm ever going to do. Be thankful."

        The instructor chuckled,
nodding. "I think I might need your assurance on that..."

        Growing up with Seifer had
its merits, indeed. Kyrie assumed the suave calmness he'd more or
less accidentally taught her. "Quisty, I'm an angel. I think
all of us know that."

        Her aunt's smirk certainly
spoke volumes. "Have a good time."

        Kyrie grinned comically
and held two thumbs up. After Quistis was out of sight, she turned
back to Rodger. "You heard the lady."

        "I'll do what I can."
He returned, indicating the chairs. As his date sat, he grunted with
satisfaction and took his own seat. It was a nice place and a nice
time to sit and shoot the breeze. "What'd they say?"

        She knew instantly what
he meant. "I only talked to Squall." She paused, trying to
sum up the experience. "He asked what I was doing tonight, and when
I was going to visit them."

        He cringed. "Ouch."

        "Bad blood lasts forever."
She murmured, waving down the chick with the tray of cups who seemed to
have nothing to do but wander around the tables. But hey, as long
as she was paid for it. After she laid two cups with ice in front
of the pair and left, Kyrie continued. "What are you hungry for?"

        "Pork or pork byproduct.
Or maybe another meat that smells like pork." He paused as the water
girl came back to fill their cups, then wandered away once more.
"You?"

        "Fried chicken. Hold
the pork." She leaned back and tapped her fingernails against the
cold glass a couple of times before completely falling silent.

        "Good luck."

        "Thank you. And what
were you doing in that time?"

        A mildly uncomfortable look
passed through him, but it was lost within seconds. Something about
her just invited him to open up. "Thinking about calling my mother."

        Not that she meant to pry,
but she assumed that she may as well. She had nothing to lose, and
assumed that he probably wouldn't care. At least, she'd soon find
out. "Did you?"

        "No."

        Short, straight, to the
point. She felt a kindred spirit, so to speak. "This family
guilt shit is complete crap, isn't it?"

        "Yes." Rodger leaned
in a little closer. "Yes it is."

        She shook her head.
The next generation sure did suck. She held firm to the belief that
it wasn't supposed to suck as much as it did. That maybe somewhere
it all went wrong, and some day it'd get better. Where is the
fucking happy ending, already?

        "Would you mind if I asked
what happened to your mother?" he nearly whispered. He wasn't sure
how she'd take it, but he suspected she wouldn't mind discussing.
They'd asked each other some personal things already, right?

        Kyrie grunted quietly.
"She killed herself a couple of years ago." Right after Edea disappeared,
in fact. They always wondered if the two events were connected, but
nothing had been discovered since. It was practically a forgotten
history, anymore.

        He hadn't heard about that,
surprisingly. Maybe his parents figured it would cause a lot more
trouble than it was worth to have breached the subject in the first place.
"Oh. I'm sorry."

        "Yeah..." she paused, wondering
what kind of reaction he was expecting. It was probably nothing like
the one he was going to get. "Well, I didn't know her. And
from what I've heard of her, I'm okay with that." And so the story
goes that she left her powers with some little girl on the street and slashed
her wrists. Probably the most mental Sorceress in history.
And that was saying a lot.

        It was... really weird,
how comfortable he felt with her. Even after that topic. Even
after her response. Maybe it was the family history they shared without
ever really actively participating. He'd never felt that comfortable
with his own family, let alone some stranger indirectly related to his
parents' past. And a chick on top of that.

        She glanced at his eyes
as though skimming through a book. "What do you know about my parents?"

        He blinked, the question
seeming to have fallen from the sky. Just as he was about to answer,
the water girl came back. Only this time she had a pad of paper and
a pencil.

        "And what will you have?"
she asked, almost sickeningly perky.

        Kyrie tipped her chair back
just a bit, pondering. "What are you serving?"

        "Sandwiches." The
girl replied as though the answer itself was bright and shiny.

        The antisocial pair exchanged
glances. "Two, then?" Kyrie asked uncertainly.

        "Yep." Rodger responded
without enthusiasm.

        "Coming up!" the girl scribbled
something resembling a wavy line on the pad and dashed away.

        "Ick." Kyrie commented
under her breath.

        Rodger grinned. It
shifted into a less interesting expression when he remembered her question,
trying to find an answer for it. "Not much." He decided upon.
"I don't really know that much."

        She continued looking at
him, holding him to a better answer. Not that she wanted specifics
or anything, but she was curious as to what he'd actually been told, versus
what he had overheard.

        He swallowed, fully aware
the subject was not going to drop so quickly. "I know about their
past. But I guess everyone does." He paused to lean in a little
once again, not wanting the entire room to be able to hear him (even if
they were actively discussing who was cute all the way on the other side).
"All I really knew was... well, lots of people felt a little betrayed."

        Oh, that spoke volumes,
alright. But it did thoroughly answer her question. He didn't
know any more than anyone else in the whole goddamn world. That was
a little comforting, actually. She nodded. "Yeah, that sums
it up."

        "I'm not trying to be a
jerk." He felt he had to assure her. "I just... that's all
I know..."

        "Don't worry about it."
She legitimately tried to put his fears to rest. "It's touchy no
matter who says what."

        He felt like an idiot when
the next thought came to mind. But he felt that he should say it.
Strange or crude as it may sound, he felt the need to express the thought
in all it's unrefined glory. "I think it must be... really hard for
you. In the middle and all."

        "Well, yeah." She
admitted, getting completely serious for a moment. "Squall's my dad,
in every sense of the word. Seifer is part of my life, too.
He's my father. All my life, I've seen him torture himself over his
stupid decisions. It's not like he's proud of it. And I'm certainly
not embarrassed to be his daughter." She paused reflectively.
"He worries, though. He doesn't want me to use his name or wear the
bloodcross." Seriously in need of a diversion, she shifted into a
little bit of humor again. "Could you imagine if I walked in here
with a bloodcross jacket or something?"

        He smiled meekly and nodded,
just glad she wasn't pissed at him. At least, she didn't seem to
be. "I... kind of understand. I mean, it's not the same thing.
My father's just a world renowned..." he made sarcastic quote marks with
his fingers, "'Ladies man'. But I get it."

        The conversation was once
again interrupted by the bubbly waitress/water girl. She placed plates
identical to the ones at lunch in front of them and made a quick departure
back to the tables where people received her warmly.

        There was a moment of silence;
probably for their appetites. "I may lose a lot of weight here."
Kyrie stated. "As if there were much more to lose."

        Her date regarded her quietly.
He'd almost had a heart attack, or at least a moment of devastation.
For the glimmer of a second, she sounded just like every other girl.
But then, thank the gods, she had amended her comment. "We might
both die of hunger before the end of the week."

        "All the more reason to
go home for the weekend." She agreed, oblivious to his thought process.

        There was a thought.
Maybe he ought to take his mother up on that offer and go home, for the
sole purpose of eating. He made a mental note to phone her up and
"surprise" her tomorrow.

        Kyrie felt the need to check
under the bread, just in case. Still looked and smelled like turkey.
Somehow she was a lot less hungry than she was moments ago, however.
Instead of showing the bravery she had at lunch, she began to pick only
the chips.

        Rodger chuckled to himself,
having similar plans. "I don't know. If all we eat are the
chips, that solves the weight problem..."

        "Yeah." She agreed
with a grin. "Then I can work on having something resembling muscle.
Of course, they don't give you many chips."

        Hm. Relaxed.
This was an interesting feeling to have on a date. "I know it's a
weird idea..." he suggested quietly, "But... do you want to go to the training
center and shoot, maybe?"

        Kyrie carefully calculated
her reaction. She didn't want to appear too thrilled. But she
was glad for the suggestion. "I'd love to, actually."

        The way the Garden training
center was set up, a new student's card could only get them into the beginner's
room. Only after so many months and an experience test by an instructor
in battle technique did one get to graduate into the intermediate room.
Not that either of them minded that much; they weren't in for tooth and
claw battles. Just practice. Maybe a little challenge.
Anything but the typical date, perhaps.

        Rodger grinned at the protective,
delicate treatment Kyrie's gunblade received. She grasped onto it
though it were a wild animal, respectful but commanding, lifting it out
of it's scabbard. The weapon was obviously of great importance; more
obviously so when he saw the engraving on the blade. A gift from
her parents, that much was clear. A symbol of all of her pride in
her bloodline. Sans Rinoa's part in it, anyway.

        There was literally no one
else around them in the grounds. Not even a licensed instructor hanging
around, telling them what not to do. Certainly not that they minded.
It was more blissful than the cafeteria they'd just evacuated from.

        "Just us and the monsters."
Kyrie joked, kneeling to pull up her pant leg. She hadn't had the
time
to transfer her bullets to the belt yet, so they remained in their original
place; strapped securely to her ankle. Quickly pulling six, she stood
and proceeded to delicately spin the barrel out and load, one by one.

        Rodger hadn't wanted to
stop by his dorm room to get his own rifle, due to having a roommate that
he was certain would be very curious as to why he was shooting so late
at night, "alone". He didn't feel like explaining. Luckily,
he'd had no reason to worry; Kyrie insisted she stop back in her own room
to grab a few extra bullets, and his roommate was dead asleep anyway.
Things never seemed to work out so nicely for him before... but who was
he to question the delicate and often sadistic workings of fate?

        Loading his rifle, he noticed
his date's stance out of the corner of his eye. Carefully inspecting
the straight edge and the sight. A wise decision. "My dad had
a crooked sight once..." he murmured.

        She grinned, lowering her
gunblade, satisfied with the continued accuracy. "So I hear.
I don't know the details, but Seifer thought it was fucking hilarious."

        He chuckled. "Yeah,
well, Pa sure didn't think it was that funny."

        She watched the way he smoothly
spun the loaded weapon once around before grasping it firmly and cocking
it. Very impressive. "Show off." She joked.

        Regardless of the light
blush, there was a look of amused pride on his face. He hadn't intended
to show off. He was just used to spinning the damn thing before he
started shooting. It was inborn by now; part of his consciousness.
It was his "style". "Well, show me up, then." He challenged.

        Kyrie regarded him with
a sly smile, resting her gunblade on her shoulder. "Now this is my
idea of a nice evening."

        They passed nothing more
than friendly challenges back and forth. Shoot this, kill that, aim
for this and draw. It turned out to be excellent practice to get
her bearings on her new weapon, fine tuning the accuracy and range.
She grasped her gunblade, dug her heels into the dirt and squeezed that
trigger; every time with the same enthusiasm. And once in a while,
she'd just outright slash. Or, better yet, the slash-and-fire.
Now that little move worked almost every time in the beginner's room.

        Rodger enjoyed watching
the triumphant look on her face with every successful strike. Regardless
of how many monsters went down, there wasn't an overconfidence there.
More of an almost cynical waiting for something to go awry, actually.
But there was still confidence in her motions and responses.

        After what really seemed
like scant minutes, the monsters simply stopped coming. Some of them
may have wised up. Kyrie waited another number of seconds, noting
the complete and utter silence before lowering her weapon to the ground.
"Wow. I think we ran out of supply."

        Her date nodded, taking
another glance around to make sure they weren't being watched by anyone
or anything. "Someone is going to be very pissed when they have to
completely restock the room in the morning." He announced matter-of-factly.

        She smirked, thinking it
safe enough to sheathe the gunblade; but she was still on her guard.
She knew better, even among the "lower level" creatures. They could
do damage. "They ought to be glad they have such fantastic marksmen
in the Garden."

        He followed her lead, removing
the last unfired shot from his rifle and placing it in his pocket.
Out of instinct more than really wanting to know, he glanced at the digital
clock near the door. "I suppose it's getting late." He sighed,
honestly not ready to break off the date. He'd never had a more interesting
night with a chick before. It was the most fun he'd ever had with
a girl; which, perhaps given his expertise, wasn't saying much. Sure
they didn't go anywhere or do a lot, but it was fun.

        She looked up at the clock.
A little after 2 in the morning. "Wow. I guess so. We've
got to rest up for more great assemblies."

        Rodger grunted in agreement.
This time there was little hesitation. "Can I walk you home again?"

        "Sure. You can come
in for a cocktail." She joked. She tried very, very hard to
suppress the laughter threatening to make her seem like a pervert.
She realized that her humor... "took time to appreciate".

        One more glance up and down
the hall to make sure it was absolutely deserted, she locked the door behind
her. "I have two places to sit. So feel free to use one."

        Rodger pondered his situation;
desk chair, or bed. Was the bed too pretentious? Then, was
the desk chair too stand-offish?

        Kyrie grinned at the intense
look on his face. Solving his problem immediately, she sat on the
bed and patted the wide open spot next to her.

        Thought more or less completely
stopped from the time he'd seen her indication to the time he actually
sat down. It couldn't have been any longer than a single second,
but it sure as hell seemed like an eternity of space-like emptiness.
And not of the worst kind, either. Now... how the hell should he
start off? "So... did you have fun?" he prodded gently.

        She smiled thinly but genuinely
at his effort. "Yes. I can honestly say that's the most fun
I've ever had on a date."

        He beamed... and then realized
something. "Have you... ever been on a date before?"

        Damn. Caught.
"No." She didn't bother to hide the amusement. "But I can honestly
say even if I had, it'd still be true."

        That was a good sign...
right? "Well... good."

        Kyrie caught his attention
with a playful smirk. "So... now what happens?"

        Alarms went off. Loaded
question. But not necessarily in the worst of ways. Regardless
of how comfortable he felt around her, he could feel his heartbeat spike.
"I... uh... s-stuff."

        "If you don't mind me asking..."
she got very close, lowering her voice, "What experience do you have on
the... 'flavored' side of things?"

        Rodger blushed hard at her
bluntness. He'd gotten the meaning right away. "My last girlfriend
was... pretty freaky."

        She laughed. "How
so?"

        He paused for a long time,
wondering just how she'd react to talking so openly about these sorts of
things. Then he remembered who her parents were. He supposed
in one way or another, she'd probably been prepared for everything.
Not to mention the fact she'd brought it up in the first place.
"Well, uh..." he blushed harder just thinking about it. "She liked...
seeing two guys... go at it... in leather... and stuff...." He cleared
his throat and looked away.

        Instead of being repulsed,
she actually looked interested. "Hm. Never heard of that before."

        Something miraculous happened:
he didn't feel awkward. Well, not that awkward, anyway.
"Yeah... she was a little obsessed."

        Kyrie raised an eyebrow
ever so slightly. "And what else did she teach you about?"

        The blush instantly returned.
This may not be the most intelligent way to go about things, discussing
sex with Squall Leonhart's daughter. And Seifer Almasy's daughter.
In the boundaries of a Garden. At which her aunt was an instructor.
In her private room. At this time of morning.

        "Don't tell me you're inexperienced."
She teased delicately.

        The blush only got hotter.
"I... uh... m-more or less... kind of."

        One corner of Kyrie's lip
rose to expose a canine. She had a very devious look on her face.
"Me too. For obvious reasons, I guess."

        A little bit of stealthy
courage leapt to Rodger's heart. "Is this trial by fire, too?"

        She laughed. "Might
as well be." Her entire manner seemed to get a little more sadistically
playful. "What turns you on?"

        The blush came back once
again, with a vengeance. Did she expect him to tell her? Did
she really
want to know? "I'll tell you... if you tell me
first."

        "This is trial by
fire." She assured. It was only fair, however. She sat
way back, using her elbows to support her as she thought. Default
answer to test the waters. "I guess I'll never know until I try it."

        There was just something
about her that gave him the strength to continue this conversation.
He drawled slightly, "Oh no. That's the easy way out."

        She glanced at him, almost
seeming to study him as she thought. "Alright. I'll put it
this way... romance only goes so far."

        He chuckled, a seductive
gleam in the corner of his eyes. He assumed he understood what she
meant, but he wasn't sure. And she hadn't completely answered the
question yet, on top of that. "Yes?"

        "A little S & M and
some light bondage, then." She finished simply. "You?"

        By now, he knew very well
that he shouldn't have been shocked. He was not, in fact. But
he was a little taken aback by how absolutely bluntly she'd stated it;
he wasn't used to a girl without games. His comfort level was dropping
fast, but he held on for the ride. "I, uh... can't say I'm in any
disagreement..."

        Kyrie smirked playfully.
"It's a trust issue most of all, I guess."

        His heart was beating out
of his chest. But this time he actually wanted to act on that response.
"So..." he tried, delicately, "Do you trust me?"

        Oh, that look. It
resembled shock. Resembled, but was not. Some kindred
to it, maybe, but... She sat up, getting just slightly closer to
him in the process. "Is there a reason I shouldn't trust you?"
she asked in a low tone, a sadistically gleeful look across her face.

        Wow. But Rodger's
adrenaline (not to mention testosterone) was pumping too fast to pause
and consider that remark. He'd liked to have answered her in some
verbal way. Really. But there were no words to suit the moment.

        As much as there was a purely
sexual attraction here, there was something else. Kyrie was not a
slut, any more than Rodger appreciated the type. Sex was nice, sex
was good, and there was obviously attraction. But there was actually
something else, too. A... spark, if you will. Something absolutely
shared without having to be spoken. And, frankly, it was kind of
scary. But neither one of them really cared at that point. They weren't
planning on going all the way. At least, not now. They just
wanted to... feel around a bit.

        The first kiss wasn't hardly
as messy or awkward as Kyrie had always thought it would be. It was
just... natural. She and Rodger had just happened to lean their heads
in at the same time and... there you have it.

        He pulled back for a moment,
as if he'd just remembered something. "That was... alright, right?"

        How sweet, really.
Kyrie grinned and pulled him softly back into another kiss, quite a bit
longer this time. She felt a slightly unsure hand press against the
small of her back and smiled into his lips. Amazing what a little
dirty conversation and a first kiss could do.

        Jokingly she thrust her
hand down the back of his pants, but his quiet moan caused her to decide
to keep it there. He pulled back just to look at her. Just
to look into her eyes, to see if there was a way to look past them and
deeper. To grant permission to go a little further.

        ...and then the door buzzer
sounded. The sudden influx of noise startled the two of them apart
like light scattered roaches, and they looked at one another in surprise.
It was three in the morning for crissakes. No one ought to be up
at that hour. Not even security.

        "It's Quistis." Kyrie
whispered.

        "How do you know?" Rodger
quickly stood and straightened up.

        "Because my dad called her
to check on me." She murmured.

        To his own astonishment,
a grin broke across his face. "And how do you know that?"

        She glanced over, a smile
hidden somewhere in her eyes. "Because I know how his sick little
mind works." She threw him a book and waved in the general direction
of her desk before straightening her hair. With no more warning,
she opened the door and hoped she was fully presentable.

        It was Quistis alright.
"Just stopping by to check on you, Kyrie." She announced with a little
too much authority. "May I come in?"

        What was she going to say?
No? "Of course, Quisty." She stepped aside.

        Quistis looked uninterested
enough, but she knew better. Rodger still had a creeping blush on
his face. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head, trying
very hard to stop herself from smiling. "I bet your parents wouldn't
appreciate this, young lady." She cleared her throat, desperately
trying to be serious. "I thought I had your assurance."

        To her own surprise, Kyrie
looked a little astounded herself. Maybe this romance thing had its
merits somehow after all. "Powerful stuff, this."

        Quistis couldn't help it.
She covered her mouth but the laughter still escaped triumphantly.

        Kyrie stood at weak attention
with her hands behind her back, fighting to retain absolute composure.
A smile did crack through, but that didn't really incriminate her.
"Forty lashes, is it?"

        Quistis straightened up
and shook her finger, still fighting back laughter. "Use discretion,
young lady."

        "I will take your birds
and bees speech to heart." Kyrie assured, dropping her head so that
her hair covered the deviously growing smile.

        "Your father could kick
all of our asses." Quistis joked. She knew Kyrie well enough
to know she wouldn't let it get "that far". At least, not without
proper health and protection precautions. But she still felt she
had to be a slightly motherly figure in this instance. Even if she
did find it really funny.

        "None of you need worry."
Kyrie assured, feeling Rodger's intense blush from across the room.

        Quistis nodded. "But
I must do my duty. So why don't you two say goodnight."

        "Thank you, may I have another..."
Kyrie murmured as she walked her aunt back outside the door.

        Quistis grinned, keeping
her voice low. "Is it safe to say you have a boyfriend, then?"

        Kyrie chuckled darkly.
"Yeah, I think so."

        The instructor crossed her
arms and nodded. "I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. You
better be good."

        "Always, Quisty."
Kyrie smiled. "Do tell me I can accompany him to his room for a goodnight
kiss at least."

        "And that's it."
Quistis tried to be firm. In truth, she was thrilled. About
damn time one of her match makings panned out. And for her niece,
of all people... "Good night. Both of you." She grinned and
walked down the hall.

        Kyrie glanced into her room,
seeing Rodger with the remnants of a blush still on his face, getting up
to go back to his roommate's snores. Well, that was a fun experience...

        The loud, grating sound of
snoring erupted from the door as it slid open. Rodger cringed a little,
still unused to the sound. At least it would assure the privacy of
their conversation. "I'd invite you in, but..." he joked.

        Kyrie waited for the last
snore to die down before she attempted to respond. "Makes me glad
to be spoiled."

        He grinned. "Well,
I... guess I'll see you tomorrow."

        "For lunch, at least."
Kyrie agreed.

        He leaned in close to her
ear, taking a large chunk of his courage to speak. "I'm kind of disappointed
she didn't choose the forty lashes."

        "Ooohh." She responded
as quietly and flatly as she possibly could. Kinky. She kinda
liked that. She woke quickly from her mental pictures and allowed
herself a rather vicious grin. "Damn, boy."

        He used his best dashing
smile on her. "Just a thought."

        "One that will keep me coming
back." She added playfully, but sincerely.

        Oh good, he hadn't scared
her off. Though he was pretty certain it would have taken quite a
bit more to have done that. "One last kiss for the night?"

        "No need to ask so nicely."
She grinned almost viciously, silencing any response he had with his very
request. It was slow, sweet, and orderly. Quite nice, really.

        But Rodger decided, just
for the time being, to take her words to heart. Certainly there wasn't
much they could get away with at this point in time, but there was nothing
wrong with a kiss in the hallway, outside his door. Without warning,
he gently tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her in again, the kiss
this time leaving just a little sting.

        ...whoah...
"Fast learner." She complimented quietly.

        He smiled widely.
"One more thing, though."

        Kyrie raised her eyebrow
just slightly, wondering what the hell else this boy was capable of getting
away with in a Garden hallway. She sure as hell didn't expect what
was coming, not in a million years or sordid guesses; he just hugged her.
It was nothing super-nova romantic, but it wasn't a courtesy hug, either.
It was just... really nice.

        "See you tomorrow."
He squeezed gently, then released. He wasn't really sure what
had driven him to do that, but he wasn't about to deny the instinct to
do so. He'd already let go of a hell of a lot he'd always held back,
so why hold back something so small and simple as a hug?

        "Definitely." She
responded, her hands lingering over his arms for just a moment. More
sparks had flown with that hug than with even the kiss; they were different
sparks, though. Just as wonderfully intense, but... different.
Familiar, desired, and yet... strange. But she didn't want to start
thinking all of this right in front of his door. Not when his roommate
had begun snoring even louder, threatening to wake up everyone in Garden.
"Lunch, at least."

        "You bet." Rodger
agreed instantly. That strange little electrical bolt had gone through
him, as well. But the entire thought process would probably have
to wait until after the snoring was over. Whenever that happened.

        She laid in bed, staring
up at the ceiling. The thought that kept persisting; That was
so strange. But good. But strange. If he'd hoped
to accomplish her continuous thought of him, he had succeeded more than
his wildest dreams. She'd have to talk to that boy at lunch.
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The Sins of Two Fathers