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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Reincarnation
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Warnings: Incest, angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Of all the things in the world Laguna could be. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30.
Innocent. Innocent eyes watching him across the table when his eyes flick up to meet them and that pen, innocent as can be when only a moment ago Laguna was sucking on the end of it, worrying at it gently with his teeth. Squall thinks, for one disorientated moment, that if he dies on his next mission he would like to be reincarnated as Laguna's pen. Or possibly a pencil.
"Squall?"
Squall lowers his eyes again, lets his hair tumble into his face. "Sorry. I'm tired. I was up until oh-three-hundred reading through reports and sorting out the dispatch teams for next week."
"Is that all going ahead alright?" Laguna asks, honestly interested. It's why he's here, though it's not why Squall agreed to meet him here. That was purely so he could sit opposite Laguna with a coffee and listen to the sound of his voice, rising and falling in his usual patterns of speech and babble. He agreed because he wanted to see Laguna, to refresh his memory, to deny to himself as he listened to Laguna's babbling that they could possibly be related.
"It's fine," he says, a trifle distracted, teeth worrying at his lip as Laguna sucks lightly on his pen again.
"Is something wrong?"
Yes, he wants to say. Yes, goddamn, yes, something's wrong and it's that you're of all things in the world, all people in the world, my fucking father and that means that you won't throw me down and fuck me on my desk or yours, won't kiss me, won't let me fuck you.
He wants to say that, but he doesn't. Instead, his eyes are on his coffee. "It's too bitter," he says, surprising himself, because he meant to say too sweet, but the cool swirl of milk and the gentle sweetness of sugar seem somehow, suddenly, attractive.
Laguna pushes the little sachets towards him and he takes them, rips them open and pours them in.
"Nothing else?" Laguna asks, waiting.
"Nothing else."
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Warnings: Incest, angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Of all the things in the world Laguna could be. For
psych_30.Innocent. Innocent eyes watching him across the table when his eyes flick up to meet them and that pen, innocent as can be when only a moment ago Laguna was sucking on the end of it, worrying at it gently with his teeth. Squall thinks, for one disorientated moment, that if he dies on his next mission he would like to be reincarnated as Laguna's pen. Or possibly a pencil.
"Squall?"
Squall lowers his eyes again, lets his hair tumble into his face. "Sorry. I'm tired. I was up until oh-three-hundred reading through reports and sorting out the dispatch teams for next week."
"Is that all going ahead alright?" Laguna asks, honestly interested. It's why he's here, though it's not why Squall agreed to meet him here. That was purely so he could sit opposite Laguna with a coffee and listen to the sound of his voice, rising and falling in his usual patterns of speech and babble. He agreed because he wanted to see Laguna, to refresh his memory, to deny to himself as he listened to Laguna's babbling that they could possibly be related.
"It's fine," he says, a trifle distracted, teeth worrying at his lip as Laguna sucks lightly on his pen again.
"Is something wrong?"
Yes, he wants to say. Yes, goddamn, yes, something's wrong and it's that you're of all things in the world, all people in the world, my fucking father and that means that you won't throw me down and fuck me on my desk or yours, won't kiss me, won't let me fuck you.
He wants to say that, but he doesn't. Instead, his eyes are on his coffee. "It's too bitter," he says, surprising himself, because he meant to say too sweet, but the cool swirl of milk and the gentle sweetness of sugar seem somehow, suddenly, attractive.
Laguna pushes the little sachets towards him and he takes them, rips them open and pours them in.
"Nothing else?" Laguna asks, waiting.
"Nothing else."
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I like the awkwardness of this and the edge of frustration that you convey.
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