My Dad, Your Dad - Part 2
^-^ I'm not quite sure how I feel about this. Never realize just how hard humor is for me to write. ^^' Maybe I should just stick to the tragedy/romance/angst stuff. -sigh- Jecht has bad language by the way.... very curse filled language.
Part 1
Squall stars at the burly man in front of him with a raw fear clawing at the walls of his stomach. This type of fear has never grabbed at the brunet before and he has no idea what to do save for stand as straight as he can in the presence of the star player of the immensely popular blitzball games. The words seem to act like warm peanut butter in his mouth; everything stuck together and coming out in muted sounds. His words are cut off as Jecht lets his two suitcases thud to the ground and Squall realizes that Tidus wasn’t kidding; both parents for a whole weekend.
“Damn you’re a scrawny boy! Don’t you ever eat?”
Nothing comes out of the brunet’s mouth as he stands routed to the spot, unsure of how to approach such a direct and blunt....His mind kicks into gear and he realizes that Tidus is just like his father. If he can handle the blonde, he can handle his obnoxiously arrogant father. Squall extends his hand out toward Jecht, “Squall Leonhart, Sir...”
Jecht gives a hearty laugh as his much larger hand quite frankly strangles Squall’s. “Sir? Ha, that’s for geezers! Now let me ask you a question kiddo.” Squall raises an eyebrow, wanting nothing more to withdraw his hand from Jecht’s but the elder remains latched onto it as Jecht leans a little closer. “Which one of you tops? ‘Cuz I seriously doubt that little crybaby-”
“Hey old man!”
Squall couldn’t be happier as he’s released from not only Jecht’s grip, but from the conversation. Jecht immediately glares childishly at his son, the blonde bounding down the rest of the stairs in a rush. His flaxen hair sends a small spray of droplets as he hits the first floor wearing only a yellow and orange jacket, unzipped of course, with a pair of blue cargo shorts reaching just below his knees. Tidus strides confidently up to his father with a large grin spread across his face until Jecht leans forward suddenly, crashing his forehead against the blonde’s.
Taken aback, Squall lunges over to the staircase to help his boyfriend only for Jecht to wrap an arm around his shoulders as Tidus struggles to lift himself back to his feet. Jecht’s laugh rings in Squall’s ears, a headache building up quickly as the brute of a man refuses to release him, “Don’t cry now, he’s a big boy that can handle his daddy.”
The disgruntled brunet almost visibly sighs in relief as the doorbell chimes through the house once again. With skilled agility he slips out from Jecht’s arm and over to the door, suddenly realizing that the relief is leaving as his own father walks in. Compared to Jecht, this man is nothing close to famous. Tan slacks reach down to drape over feet sheathed in brown sandals while a baby-blue, button-up shirt is left untucked. Ebony tresses fall to the right side of his face while the rest is pulled back into a low ponytail. Grey eyes flash at Squall along with a smile before Squall is yanked into a hug, his hands trying to push himself away from his own father. Even for a man that had served in the Balamb military, his heart couldn’t possibly get any bigger.
Squall finally succeeds in getting away from his father’s death grip, grabbing the man’s bags and leading him into the house. The second the door shuts, Tidus and Jecht are drawn out of their mumbling feud and their eyes lock onto Squall. He rolls his eyes and nods toward the dark haired man next to him, “This is my da-”
The man immediately steps forward and Jecht meets him as well, their banter falling suit. “Laguna and you’re that star I see on TV all the time.”
Clearly flattered, more than used to it and getting quite the ego from it, Jecht laughs heartily. “Glad to meet another fan! That beanpole over there is my son Tidus, claims to take after me, but he missed a few chips off the block!”
Squall clenches his fingers around Laguna’s bags and begins up the stairs, desperately wanting to get away from the ‘love-fest’ between fathers. Tidus immediately takes notice and grabs at his own father’s bags, “We’ll take your bags to your rooms! Don’t move now!” he ensures as he bounds up the stairs after the clearly brooding Squall, a personal raincloud over the brunet’s head.
At the end of the left end of the hallway Tidus spots Squall chucking Laguna’s bag into the spare bedroom, muttering the word ‘moron’ repeatedly. Tidus sprints to the room next to that one, opening the door in a rush and setting Jecht’s bags inside before hurrying into the one Laguna will apparently be using. Squall stands just inside the door with his hands on his hips, the fury in his eyes enough evidence that if Tidus doesn’t think of something, there will be future bloodshed.
Always able to think on his toes, Tidus tugs Squall further into the room and to the dresser parallel to the door. He effectively pins himself between the slightly taller brunet and the empty woodened dresser. Before Squall can ask what he’s up to Tidus winds his arms around Squall’s shoulders, pressing their lips together in a flurry of sloppy and rushed kisses. The fact that their fathers are just downstairs seems to slip from Squall’s mind as he sets himself between Tidus’ legs, one of those tanned legs winding around one of his own. Squall’s hands stay steady on Tidus’ hips while the latter tangles his fingers through short chocolate locks.
“Goddammit!”
“Ha, ha! I won for once! Pay up big shot, my son tops!”
“Damn crybaby, you made me lose twenty bucks! You owe me kid!”
Squall turns his head toward the now clearly open door, the two men standing there with conflicting emotions with their eyes trained on each other. Jecht shoves his hand in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, shoveling the bill into Laguna’s open palm with stinginess only he can show. After pocketing the money Laguna slaps Jecht’s shoulder while grinning ear to ear, proud with the scene before him for some odd reason. As the words leave his lips Squall can feel his eyelid begin to twitch while Tidus merely buries his face in the brunet’s neck, hiding his flushed face.
Part 1
Squall stars at the burly man in front of him with a raw fear clawing at the walls of his stomach. This type of fear has never grabbed at the brunet before and he has no idea what to do save for stand as straight as he can in the presence of the star player of the immensely popular blitzball games. The words seem to act like warm peanut butter in his mouth; everything stuck together and coming out in muted sounds. His words are cut off as Jecht lets his two suitcases thud to the ground and Squall realizes that Tidus wasn’t kidding; both parents for a whole weekend.
“Damn you’re a scrawny boy! Don’t you ever eat?”
Nothing comes out of the brunet’s mouth as he stands routed to the spot, unsure of how to approach such a direct and blunt....His mind kicks into gear and he realizes that Tidus is just like his father. If he can handle the blonde, he can handle his obnoxiously arrogant father. Squall extends his hand out toward Jecht, “Squall Leonhart, Sir...”
Jecht gives a hearty laugh as his much larger hand quite frankly strangles Squall’s. “Sir? Ha, that’s for geezers! Now let me ask you a question kiddo.” Squall raises an eyebrow, wanting nothing more to withdraw his hand from Jecht’s but the elder remains latched onto it as Jecht leans a little closer. “Which one of you tops? ‘Cuz I seriously doubt that little crybaby-”
“Hey old man!”
Squall couldn’t be happier as he’s released from not only Jecht’s grip, but from the conversation. Jecht immediately glares childishly at his son, the blonde bounding down the rest of the stairs in a rush. His flaxen hair sends a small spray of droplets as he hits the first floor wearing only a yellow and orange jacket, unzipped of course, with a pair of blue cargo shorts reaching just below his knees. Tidus strides confidently up to his father with a large grin spread across his face until Jecht leans forward suddenly, crashing his forehead against the blonde’s.
Taken aback, Squall lunges over to the staircase to help his boyfriend only for Jecht to wrap an arm around his shoulders as Tidus struggles to lift himself back to his feet. Jecht’s laugh rings in Squall’s ears, a headache building up quickly as the brute of a man refuses to release him, “Don’t cry now, he’s a big boy that can handle his daddy.”
The disgruntled brunet almost visibly sighs in relief as the doorbell chimes through the house once again. With skilled agility he slips out from Jecht’s arm and over to the door, suddenly realizing that the relief is leaving as his own father walks in. Compared to Jecht, this man is nothing close to famous. Tan slacks reach down to drape over feet sheathed in brown sandals while a baby-blue, button-up shirt is left untucked. Ebony tresses fall to the right side of his face while the rest is pulled back into a low ponytail. Grey eyes flash at Squall along with a smile before Squall is yanked into a hug, his hands trying to push himself away from his own father. Even for a man that had served in the Balamb military, his heart couldn’t possibly get any bigger.
Squall finally succeeds in getting away from his father’s death grip, grabbing the man’s bags and leading him into the house. The second the door shuts, Tidus and Jecht are drawn out of their mumbling feud and their eyes lock onto Squall. He rolls his eyes and nods toward the dark haired man next to him, “This is my da-”
The man immediately steps forward and Jecht meets him as well, their banter falling suit. “Laguna and you’re that star I see on TV all the time.”
Clearly flattered, more than used to it and getting quite the ego from it, Jecht laughs heartily. “Glad to meet another fan! That beanpole over there is my son Tidus, claims to take after me, but he missed a few chips off the block!”
Squall clenches his fingers around Laguna’s bags and begins up the stairs, desperately wanting to get away from the ‘love-fest’ between fathers. Tidus immediately takes notice and grabs at his own father’s bags, “We’ll take your bags to your rooms! Don’t move now!” he ensures as he bounds up the stairs after the clearly brooding Squall, a personal raincloud over the brunet’s head.
At the end of the left end of the hallway Tidus spots Squall chucking Laguna’s bag into the spare bedroom, muttering the word ‘moron’ repeatedly. Tidus sprints to the room next to that one, opening the door in a rush and setting Jecht’s bags inside before hurrying into the one Laguna will apparently be using. Squall stands just inside the door with his hands on his hips, the fury in his eyes enough evidence that if Tidus doesn’t think of something, there will be future bloodshed.
Always able to think on his toes, Tidus tugs Squall further into the room and to the dresser parallel to the door. He effectively pins himself between the slightly taller brunet and the empty woodened dresser. Before Squall can ask what he’s up to Tidus winds his arms around Squall’s shoulders, pressing their lips together in a flurry of sloppy and rushed kisses. The fact that their fathers are just downstairs seems to slip from Squall’s mind as he sets himself between Tidus’ legs, one of those tanned legs winding around one of his own. Squall’s hands stay steady on Tidus’ hips while the latter tangles his fingers through short chocolate locks.
“Goddammit!”
“Ha, ha! I won for once! Pay up big shot, my son tops!”
“Damn crybaby, you made me lose twenty bucks! You owe me kid!”
Squall turns his head toward the now clearly open door, the two men standing there with conflicting emotions with their eyes trained on each other. Jecht shoves his hand in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, shoveling the bill into Laguna’s open palm with stinginess only he can show. After pocketing the money Laguna slaps Jecht’s shoulder while grinning ear to ear, proud with the scene before him for some odd reason. As the words leave his lips Squall can feel his eyelid begin to twitch while Tidus merely buries his face in the brunet’s neck, hiding his flushed face.