Author: Mistigri Bleu
E-mail: [email protected]
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Rating: PG
Summary: Inspired by the recent spate of barbeque sauce that�s been flying around. Pure fluff J
Warnings: Incest.
Disclaimer: They don�t belong to me. Or at least I haven�t seen any cute bishy tucked under my bed�.
*********
"Oh how the mighty have fallen!"
Seifer smirked and leant against the counter clearly enjoying the embarrassment the other man was currently squirming in. The ex-sorceress� knight had a knack for turning up when he was least wanted and of all the McMoogles on the planet he had to walk into this one. Squall glared at him.
"Can I take your order?"
The simple phrase was enough to push Seifer into a fit of sneering laughter, thumping the counter, but then he had been holding it in since the first second he laid eyes on the uniform. The designer could not have been colour-blind as it would have been impossible to create such a selection of unflattering colours by chance alone; the designer must have had been evil, with express purpose of inflicting optical damage on the beholder. To top it off, he had then had the uniforms made up in a fabric which was resistant to grease, fire, water, heat and acid to such a degree that ex-employees attempting to burn them in celebration of their freedom didn't stand a chance. Add to this the hat...well, the less said about the hat, the better.
Squall rolled his eyes and waited for Seifer to recover. "Can I take your order?"
Seifer continued to snigger but gradually regained his composure. "Well, Hello-my-name-is-ZELL, I dunno, what's the special today?"
Squall tapped the laminated cardboard display which was sellotaped to the front of his till. It advertised *NEW* McMoogle Chunky Chocobo McStrips at a *Special Introductory Price!!!* Seifer studied it, rubbing his chin as though he really couldn't make up his mind.
"So where's the chickenwuss?" Seifer asked conversationally. "Or maybe that should be McChickenwuss?!" Another fit of laughter. Squall scowled.
"Zell's sick. He asked me to pop in and say he wouldn't be working today. He didn't warn me that they're terminally short staffed and that the boss is the evil lovechild of Quistis and Fujin with a persuasive streak to put Selphie to shame and a selective deafness to the words 'no', 'definitely' and 'not'."
Seifer grinned though, to tell the truth, his face was starting to hurt. Luckily he wasn't Squall, otherwise it would've fallen off by now. "Why the Hell is he working at a fast food joint anyway? Did his SeeD rank drop or something?"
Squall shook his head. "He's doing it for the 'experience'. He's decided to become a writer and some moron told him the best way to research would be to get a job dealing with people so he could observe various characters and interaction. Are you going to order something or what?"
Seifer shrugged "C'mon, it's not like you're busy! Oh all right, I'll have the McMoomba dippers. If there's any justice in this world, it'll be one of the pesky little vermin from the prison. Ah the good ol'days..."
Squall pouted. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not a good idea to piss off fast food employees?"
"No. Why?"
"Whatever," Squall dropped a box of dippers on the counter. "What sauce do you want?"
"Barbeque," said Seifer. "Would said moron who convinced the chickenwuss to be a writer be the same moron I just saw ordering a double cream puff in the cake shop two doors down?"
Squall's fist tightened around the sauce sachet causing it to split and splatter. "Laguna's /here/?"
Without waiting for an answer, he jumped over the counter and headed for the door, muttering something along the lines of approaching sudden death. Seifer opened his mouth as though to tell him something, but the other gunblader had already left. He shrugged.
"Free lunch. Cool."
* * * * * *
Laguna contemplated the cream cake laying wantonly before him with a predatory glint in his eyes. He turned the plate with a single finger and leaned in close.
"At last we are alone..."
It was true; the shop was empty except for the president and a bored looking serving girl who was cleaning one of the machines. She didn't even seem to notice the weirdo murmuring sweet nothings to his sweet something.
Laguna ran his finger along the edge of the cake, catching a little cream on his fingertip. He raised it to his lips and with a flick of his tongue, licked it away. This was too pleasant a job to rush.
"Where shall we start, my sweet? Shall I lick away your cream before I take your cherry?"
He rubbed his hands in anticipation, then, flexing his fingers, reached forward to claim his delight.
"You're talking to a cake...?"
Laguna froze. Busted. He raised his eyes and smiled sheepishly at the young man who had just walked in.
"Uh, hi, Squall! How's it going?"
The gunblader scowled in reply and sat down. Laguna noticed there was something different about him. Other than the fact he was wearing Zell's uniform...
"As of today, I am formally ordering Zell along with the rest of my easily influenced colleagues to not, under any circumstances, listen to your advice."
"Uh, Squall," Laguna made a vague gesture toward his cheek. "You have, uh, some-"
"Because Hyne alone knows what you might talk Selphie into!" Squall cut him off. For someone who didn't talk much, once he got going he wasn't about to stop. "Zell is working himself to a greasy death in that place because of you!"
Laguna winced. "I'm sorry," he said meekly. "I'll try not to encourage people in the future. But you have a bit of-"
"You have to be responsible for what you say. You're the president of Esthar and for some inexplicable reason, people look up to you. You have to be aware of the consequences of your actions, I mean-"
Laguna couldn't stand it anymore. He leaned forward and neatly licked the splatter of barbeque sauce from Squall's cheek, stopping the commander mid-sentence.
"You...didn't just do that!"
Laguna pulled a face. "Hmm, cream and barbeque doesn't really go."
"You..." Squall gingerly touched his face as though he expected it to burn. "You just..."
Laguna shrugged. "C'mon, there's no one around. And you would have been more embarrassed if I'd let you walk out with sauce on your face."
"But in public! And broad daylight!"
"No one cares. In fact, I could do this...and no one would bat an eyelid."
Squall did bat an eyelid. Mostly because he couldn't believe he now had a sizeable blob of cream on his nose. His mouth opened to protest, but Laguna licked the cream away, leaving him speechless.
"See, the world didn't end," smiled Laguna. "The cream's yummy. You wanna try some?"
Squall's eyes flashed. He picked the glace cherry from the cake and stuck it firmly on the tip of Laguna's nose. "There. How do you like it?"
Laguna just smiled. "Does it suit me?"
"Yes. Makes you look like the moron that you are. I have to get back to work." he turned to leave, but then he noticed Laguna was slipping the remainder of his cake into a little paper bag. "What are you doing?"
"I'm in the mood for something with barbeque sauce now," Laguna grinned. "Figure I'll come over and get some chocobo wings!"
Squall stared at him. "You still have a cherry on your nose."
"You said it suited me," Laguna teased. "So I'm not gonna take it off."
Squall sighed and reached up to remove the cherry, but Laguna caught his wrist. Squall countered with the other, but it was grabbed too and pulled down by his sides. He found himself so close to Laguna he could easily...no way! He was not doing that! But Laguna didn't look like he was about to let go. Squall glanced over at the shop assistant and, seeing that she was busy, with her back to her customers, he quickly flicked the cherry off with his tongue. Laguna grinned then kissed him.
Squall tried to pull away, but Laguna had manoeuvred him so there was a table behind him. If he made a scene, the girl would turn around. He managed to push Laguna back.
"What was that?" Squall hissed.
"Just getting my cherry back," Laguna displayed his prize between his teeth as he grinned. Squall scowled. He stepped away from the table, then just as Laguna was least expecting it, grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulled him down and stole the cherry.
"My cherry now."
Laguna stared dumbfounded as Squall walked off toward the door. But he always had a quick recovery rate. He caught the younger man, span him around and went after his cherry. But it was too late.
"You swallowed it??"
Squall had the decency to look a little guilty. "You surprised me."
"Um..." a voice came from behind the counter. "I might have a spare cherry if you're interested..."
Squall looked at her closely for the first time. She wore the standard cookie shop uniform and had her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. "Selphie???"
"Um, no!" the girl hid her face behind a serving tray. "Oh, look is that the time? I'm afraid we're closing now!"
Squall narrowed his eyes, but let himself be herded out by Laguna. The shop assistant who was absolutely not Selphie shut the door firmly behind them, but didn't put up the closed sign. Highly suspicious. Squall pouted.
"Laguna..."
The older man threw up his hands in a gesture of powerlessness, still holding the white paper bag with the cake in. "I didn't say anything to her! Maybe Garden's healthcare and pension plans are lacking something. Or maybe it's the perks of working in a cake shop - free cakes! Yummy! Uh, Squall, where are you going?"
"Back to work," Squall answered, still pouting. "Just how many of my staff have you corrupted, Laguna?"
The president winced. He dreaded to think what Squall would say when he found out where Irvine was working part-time. The cowboy was even making a decent living out of it, mostly in tips...
"Ummm...Well you should probably keep out of the Blue Oyster Bar for a while..."
"I would never set foot in there anyway," said Squall. Realisation dawned and he covered his face with his hand. He sighed. "Who? Irvine or Quistis?"
Laguna guiltily chewed a thumbnail. "Well Quistis only works Saturdays...so that doesn't really count, does it...? And Irvine only does four nights a week..."
Squall's hand moved up to massage his temples. "Do you have any idea what sort of a place that is?"
"Well, Irvine said-"
"Irvine thinks a place is high class if they give you a free beer cos the one you're drinking has a cockroach in! Please tell me he's only serving behind the bar..."
"He's only serving behind the bar," said Laguna firmly. Then he coughed. "On Thursdays. But I didn't say anything to him about getting a job there! It was entirely his idea."
Squall shook his head. "I'm going back to work. I'm going to have a serious talk with the others tonight. Especially Irvine." He started off back towards McMoogles.
"Wait," Laguna caught his arm. "C'mon, it's not like they're doing anything wrong. Let them explore other walks of life a little. It's not like there're any wars or anything. And they have SeeD drilled into them enough already."
"And Irvine's making doubly sure, right?" Squall raised an eyebrow. Laguna scratched the back of his head.
"Well it's his natural inclination; he may as well get paid for it..."
Squall pulled his arm free. "Whatever."
Laguna wasn't about to let him escape. He caught the younger man's shoulders and kissed him roughly. In broad daylight. In a mildly crowded shopping mall. Squall pulled sharply away from the kiss, but didn't struggle free.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Laguna smiled and shrugged with one shoulder. "You need to loosen up, live a little, do something spontaneous. Like in the cafe just now. Didn't that feel good?" He peered hopefully at Squall.
"Sounds wonderful, but I'm meant to be working now."
"Fuck it!" said Laguna cheerfully. "What are they gonna do? Fire you? It's not even your job!"
"But it's my responsibility-"
"So if you're not there a few people may have to wait a bit longer for their McMoogle Bun. Who cares? It won't kill them for one day!"
Squall hesitated. Laguna leaned in so his lips were by the boy's ear. "I have my limo parked outside. I'm sure we can think of something to do that's more fun than forcing yourself to be nice to people who don't even know you're alive...what d'ya say? You won't need to wear that awful uniform either..."
Squall looked towards the restaurant. Where was the competition, really? He scowled to show he was doing this entirely against his will. "All right. Where are you parked?"
Laguna grinned. He handed the paper bag to Squall. "Lot R. Take this and make yourself comfy. I'll be with you in a minute."
"Where are you going?" Squall called after him.
Laguna smirked as he opened the McMoogles door. "I got a real craving for barbeque sauce..."