Work Text:
She has just closed the book she’s been studying for three hours straight, massaging her temples as she thinks if she’d rather have a cup of tea or something more fitting for a cold, rainy night, like hot chocolate, when someone knocks on her door. From her bed, Angelo grumbles in annoyance, and she rolls her eyes at her dog, uncrossing her legs and getting up to see who it is.
Squall’s silhouette, barely illuminated by the Garden’s lights, is as dark and moody as he can be, on his most difficult days. He is leaning against her threshold, his arms crossed on his chest, his unruly hair falling on his face, hiding his expression from her. He always looks so unfairly gorgeous she feels her breath caught in her chest. She’d scold him a little for coming to her when she asked for a couple of days for herself, to fully prepare for her finals, but then he raises his eyes, and the almost lost look in them gives her heart a painful squeeze.
He seems to realize he shouldn’t be here and quickly straightens. “I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have come. You have your finals and – I should go. I’m sorry-”
“I still have tomorrow to study,” she replies, reaching out to grab his wrist before he has a chance to go back to his room. “And I could use a break. I was going to prepare myself some hot chocolate. Join me?”
She lets his wrist go, fully aware of how being touched still unnerves him, sometimes. He follows her inside the room, closing the door gently, his eyes darting to Angelo, still sleeping curled on Rinoa’s bed. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, without moving. “I can’t even give you a couple of days when you ask,” he continues, with a self-deprecating grimace. “I really shouldn’t have come-”
“Squall, stop. Please.” She puts down the mugs she has prepared for their hot chocolate, and comes closer to stand in front of him, without touching him. She knows him, by now; she knows his moods, his imposter syndrome, the way he often blames himself for things he has no power on, the way he always feels much more responsible than he should. She knows if he came to her, then something happened, and she just wants to help. Her books will still be there tomorrow. “I know you would have given me that couple of days. I don’t doubt you. I’m not mad. And as I said, I could use a break.”
Squall is silent. He massages his temple as she has done just a few minutes before, and she’s careful to not let him catch her subtle smirk at the idea they are starting to use the same mannerism. Her smirk dies, though, when he heaves a deep sigh and runs his hand through his hair.
“Something happened, am I right?” she asks, and he gives a defeated noise. “Wanna talk about it?”
He is silent for a long time, staring at the light-blue carpet with a wave motif she bought in Balamb when autumn started. They listen together to the sound of rain pattering against her window and Angelo’s soft snoring, and then suddenly Squall looks at her with the same lost, and equally heart-wrenching expression he had at her door. “Can I… would you mind giving me a hug?”
She says nothing. She feels like this moment is so precious, so fragile, and she doesn’t want to ruin it with barely fitting words. She steps forward and puts one arm around his waist, pulling him closer, and the other over his shoulder, to let her finger sink into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. She feels his arms closing almost hesitantly around her waist, and she gives him a gentle squeeze, to let him know he can hold her as tight as he wants, as close as he needs, for as long as he chooses, until he feels safe again. He leans his forehead against her shoulder, and his breath feels hot and rapid against her exposed skin. She wonders, she’d like to prod, but she has enough love, enough respect for him to wait. He has learned to tell her what he’s thinking, and she knows he just needs time to sort through his feelings and give them their name.
After what feels like hours, he gently disentangles himself from their embrace, and he steps back, nodding once. “Thank you,” he heaves, and she smiles, daring to move a lock of his hair from his face.
“Let’s have that chocolate now, shall we?” she whispers, and she’s already retracting her hand when he grabs it, turning it to press his lips against her wrist. She has no time to say something, no time even for a surprised gasp; his arms snake around her waist, pulling her closer, pressed against him so tight she almost can’t breathe. His hand follows the line of her spine, higher and higher until he threads his fingers in her hair, gently pulling her head back so he can bend down to kiss her. It’s just a second – a ghost of a contact against her lips, a flick of his tongue against her breath. “Squall…?” she whispers, and in the slightly illuminated room, his eyes almost sparkle.
“I’m sorry. I should have done it in space. I… I guess I understand, now, what you meant when you said you wanted to feel alive.”
“Were you in danger?” she breathes, almost scared of saying the words out loud.
“No, not me,” he says, his head hanging low again to conceal his expression. “A cadet.”
She gulps. “Come,” she says, pulling him to her bed, tipping slightly against his shoulders so he sits down. The added weight on the mattress makes Angelo grumble again, but then Squall puts a hand on her head, scratching behind her ears, and the dog turns to lean her muzzle against his thigh with a satisfied sigh. “I’m gonna prepare that chocolate now. We both need it. You can tell me more. I just want to help you, Squall.” Once again, she moves his hair from his amazingly expressive eyes, and surrenders to the desire to caress his cheek.
He sighs, and she busies herself in the kitchenette, waiting for him to be ready. She gives him his mug, which he accepts in silence, and she leans against her desk, sipping on her chocolate while he simply uses his to warm his hands.
“It was my fault,” he starts. “I made an error of judgment. I thought they were ready for the monsters in the Fire Cave… turns out, they weren’t.” He shakes his head, and his leg twitches, earning another sound of annoyance from his girlfriend’s spoilt dog. “I should have known they weren’t ready, the way they used the weapon was so off-balance. Yet I thought it could be a lesson on how you can’t underestimate the danger… ironic, I was the one who should have learned that lesson.”
He falls silent, and Rinoa looks at him as if searching for the truth on his face. “What happened?”
“They were attacked by a couple of Bombs. They managed to kill one, but the other one exploded on them. Two cadets managed to escape, but the third one was too scared, I guess. He didn’t move out of the way. I managed to get to him and sustain the brunt of the explosion, but he got hurt anyway. He is in the Infirmary, now. Dr. K says he just has just a few burns. Still…”
“So you saved him?” says Rinoa, and he looks at her as if it’s the first time he even entertained the idea of having saved the cadet, instead of putting him in the line of danger.
“I guess so,” he says, shrugging. “Point is, he wouldn’t have needed to be saved if I didn’t put him in danger in the first place.”
Rinoa shakes her head, putting her empty mug on her desk and sitting close to him, on the bed. He is still toying with his mug, and she puts two fingers underneath it, gently pushing it up to his lips, forcing him to drink. “Listen to me, now,” she starts, as he gulps down a couple of sips. “I know I said once you’re not a great leader, and I deeply regret doing it because I think it sank in a little too much.”
“You were right, though,” he whispers, and she moves closer, slightly brushing her leg against his.
“Maybe I was, at the time, but that is simply not true, now. I didn’t know you back then. I didn’t… understand you. But now I know what’s inside of you. And I know you care so much about everything that it must be so exhausting for you, and you still bear the responsibility of leadership and the guilt that comes with it.”
He hums, emptying his cup of hot chocolate, mulling over her words.
“You are right,” she continues, threading her finger with his. “Maybe they learned a lesson today, and maybe you learned it too. But I guess you weren’t the only one who thought those cadets were ready for the Fire Cave, am I right?”
“Yeah,” he concedes, giving her the empty mug. She takes it and turns to put it on her nightstand, as he scoots back on the bed until he leans his head against the wall. The movement annoys Angelo once more, and the dog decides to get down the bed and find a nice spot under the desk, where no human can disturb her sleep.
“Still, I am the one who was with them on the field. I should have known.” He closes his eyes, feeling her movements on the bed too. Shoulder to shoulder, they stay silent for a few minutes, until he adds, “I guess I never thought one could die like that. It just… it was different from the war, you know?”
“Yeah, I think I understand,” she says.
He snorts a laugh. “So much for being a proud and strong lion, eh?”
“You are a proud and strong lion,” she says softly, taking his hand and bringing it to her lips. “You are stronger because you know your weakness, and deal with it in a healthier way, now. I am truly happy and honored you know you can come to me and vent, Squall. Being a kind of safe space for you is so-”
“You're not a kind of safe space,” he interrupts her, turning to look at her. “You are my safe space.”
She’d like to add something, but she feels a little giddy with happiness, a little moved to tears to say anything. This is so precious, so fragile she doesn’t want to ruin it, and knowing she is the safe space Squall needs to unveil his shell makes her so proud, so humbled, so in love with him. With his strength, and his weakness.
Especially with his weakness.
They’re still looking at each other in silence, a small smile on her lips, when the Garden bell starts ringing.
“I should go back now,” he whispers, so low that the rain and Angelo’s snore almost drown his words.
“Do you want to?” she asks, in a similarly low tone.
He snorts another laugh, half amused, half sheepish. “Not really, no.”
“What do you want, then?” she presses on.
He gulps, looking at her with another lost expression. She adores this one because he is so unguarded when he looks at her like this, and because it’s a look that’s almost home, almost love. His shell, unveiled for her eyes only.
“I’d like to spend the night,” he admits finally. “But then everyone will get the wrong idea in the morning, and…” He trails off, unsure of why it bothers him so.
She laughs, feeling a little silly. “Everyone has got a pretty right idea of what we’ve been up to when we stay in each other’s rooms,” she says, blushing despite her open teasing. “But I understand what you mean. They’re just kids,” she shrugs, skipping on the fact that they’re barely adults themselves. “They will gossip a little when they see you leave in the morning, and then something will happen in class and their attention will be on that. Nobody cares about what their Commander does behind closed doors.”
“I just… don’t want them to think I was so eager to be with my girlfriend when a cadet almost died under my supervision,” he blurts finally.
“Or maybe they’ll think you’re a normal human being who needs comfort after something so jarring, and went to seek it from the girl who loves you.” She scoots closer still, hugging his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Does it matter, though? Maybe someone will think you were here to get some, maybe someone else will think you needed support. Either way, it doesn’t matter. They respect you. They look up to you. Worst case scenario, they’ll call me the Liontamer once more,” she jokes, hoping to ease the tension.
“Liontamer, eh?” He looks at her with a tiny, barely concealed smile, and she squeezes his arm, purring in delight.
“Yep. I love it when they do!”
“I bet you do,” he deadpans, and she giggles.
“You worry too much about what people think about you, Squall,” she says, turning serious once again. “Just do what you need right now, ok?”
“You heard it? Back then, on the bridge?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at her. There have been enough subtle mentions of his confession on Horizon’s Bridge to make him think she heard, she remembers, and she’s been guarding their secret very carefully.
“Yeah,” she admits. “It was a secret, though. Something you told me when you thought I couldn’t hear.” She sighs, moving away from him, hoping he’s not mad, or embarrassed, or annoyed by the fact that she heard, and most importantly, the fact that she remembers. “You said yourself it was a secret between you and me. I wanted to respect that. I am sorry I didn’t-”
She is silenced by the ghost of a kiss against her lips, once again. “Don’t. You respected it. You always respect me. You are my safe space, and I love you.”
There’s no space for thoughts when he kisses her fully, and she feels his hand cradle her head almost tenderly, as he lowers her onto the mattress, and as his hands get slow and eager at the same time, she muffles a small laugh against his shoulder.
Everyone will get the right idea in the morning, and everyone will call her the Liontamer once more, and that’s ok because it means she somehow deserves to be Squall’s safe space.
And to see his shell, unveiled.