To Trust A Cop

Beta: working on it
Notes: Merry Christmas everyone!! Sorry for taking my time but with holyday and all… Anyway.
Thank you for your support so far, I hope I will continue to keep up the good work, but as it looks now that won’t be a problem :)

But, this time I have to answer a review, but it won’t take too long ;)

Sharon

Thank you for your reviews, some of what you have said has affected me in both ways. I don’t usually answer to reviews like this, if there’s not a right out question in it that needs answering. But I feel that I need to say something because you are truly putting effort in saying what you think and I appreciate that really much, and maybe there are more readers that feel and think like you do.

The issue with Squall’s last name is a shear fumbling with my fingers. I can think one thing, but write another. It’s quite scary when I read what I’ve written and see full meanings I hadn’t even thought.

You’re obsessing about Squall’s school life and are assuming a terribly lot without looking at the whole picture. You are assuming Squall got bad grades and that is why he doesn’t have a full elementary grade. And what is it with you and your presumptions about school grades and intelligence? You are awfully presumptuous if you think brilliance and how far in school you got always has a connection.

You are also applying US rules to their world. Dollars? GED? Hello? They’re living in GALBADIA!! They have gil, not dollars. Their education system is different. Sure, this is a highly AU story, but not that much!

If you look closely I have yet to reveal details about Squall’s childhood and history. That also applies to all characters in the story so far. None have had their whole story revealed. You haven’t even seen this whole thing from Quistis point of view yet. And who said anything about high school or college?

I admit this story may seem fickle and superficial; I’m trying to use a very fine method of telling this story. I admit it is the first time I use this technique when not writing in my native language and I know I may fail this attempt. Still I think I’m making good.

You need to read behind the lines in this story. Don’t let the characters personalities fool you too much. Even the steamy hot lemon scenes have their own hidden meanings; maybe you just can’t see them? I admit, there are a lot of subtle things here, and that’s just the way I want it. Other readers have picked it up and I’m sure you too can if you give it enough effort.

Or maybe you just jump too far in this story and are too impatient for things to happen. Maybe you just need to be a little more patient and things will clear out for you?

There’s a lot in their world that could use some explanation, I guess. Like their education system, age limits to different things and so on and so on. The reason for me to not have made a “world biography” is I always hate reading facts chapters and am afraid something like it will spoil the story.

But I guess if enough of you readers wish me to dedicate some space to explain their world a little more, I could do that. But then I need you to tell me what you want to know. I don’t really know what I should/can/need to explain. Most things will come as they’re needed anyway.


15

The room was lit only by the light on the drawing table. It was all the light he needed. The window was a dark mirror and Squall probably ought to make something to eat. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t hungry, he was painting. The only sound was the sound from pencil on ark or brush against ark. He was almost done with the sketches. It hadn’t even been a week. Granted, he’d been alone and able to work with the drawings.

Squall stopped and eyed the picture. Good. Maybe he even would be satisfied with it. Maybe. Rising and walking away a few steps, he eyed it again. He needed to shift some proportions and change places of some mountains and other things in the background. Then it would be better. It would give another depth, he hoped.

Alost back at the table, the silence was split by a recognisable melody on the doorbell. The brunet frowned and glared at the door. He didn’t have the time, but by now he knew the cop wouldn’t leave so easily. Especially not as he used the doorbell like some punching bag. He didn’t feel like fucking around. He needed to finish the paintings. Feeling stressed and frustrated, Squall growled something before unlocking the door and yanking it open.

Squall only took in the lanky stance of the man and the racking, dark, green eyes. Then he braced himself and narrowed his eyes, hoping to fend of the cop.

“I don’t have time.” Squall bit out before Almasy had the chance to open his mouth.

One blond eyebrow arched.

“Don’t have or won’t take?” Seifer leered as he pressed inside.

Squall placed himself bodily in the way, but it was as successfully as stopping a train. A large hand fisted his hair and bent his head. The brunet twisted uselessly against the harsh kiss. The blond tasted alcohol and his breath was heavy of it.

It made Squall wary. He had never seen the blond either drunk or smelled alcohol on his breath before. It made uncomfortable memories surface and he squirmed even more in the grip. Seifer just circled his arm around Squall and backed him into the apartment, ignorant of the open door.

“Stop it!” Squall hissed as his mouth was released so the mouth could attack his throat instead.

He hit a fist against the broad chest and it felt unnaturally hard. Squall hit again and blinked. Did the cop have a bullet-proof west on? His knees hit the bed and Squall squirmed desperately but was still toppled at the bed and crushed under the heavy man.

The hand not fisting his hair was making a wild race along his body. Hard things poked his abdomen. Frustrated he hissed and twisted to get loose. Trying to push the heavy man off was as successful as pushing a bulldozer. Squall hissed and twisted uselessly.

“Stop! I don’t have the time for this bastard!” The brunet growled.

He bucked as a rough hand sneaked under his shirt and stroked his side. He caught the hand but couldn’t hold it still. Any other time this would have aroused him. Right now something disturbed him above the wide open door. Squall yelped and arched as a nipple was bitten through the t-shirt.

“I said stop it, the door’s open.” Squall hissed and twisted violently.

“Whatever, no one’s going to come by.” The cop growled and attacked the other nipple while stroking the ball of his hand harshly along Squall’s erection.

The brunet stifled a moan and jerked under the insistent touch. He cursed the man for his brutal assault. He’d had some foolish belief that he could handle the man, but then the bastard had to go and show how wrong he’d been.

Squall closed lips and teeth against another kiss. The alcohol smell and taste was enough to make him as tense as a violin string. Either the cop didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Seifer, stop.”

If it was because of the calm tone or the use of his first name, Squall didn’t know, but the blond paused.

“What? Just don’t mind the door.” He muttered.

The brunet narrowed his eyes.

“I was busy, at least let me finish.” Squall persisted and stuck out his chin.

They stared at each other for awhile. The green eyes were unusually… strange. He couldn’t place it. Dark as of lust, yes, but still strange. There was something heavy in the gaze. Seifer sighed heavily and rolled off. Squall suspiciously eyed the man as he walked over to the door and closed it before hanging off jacket and taking of shoes. Like he lived there, Seifer then went into the kitchen.

Squall sat up and ruffled his hair. Damn. There was something here he couldn’t put his finger on. Or was it just his naïve mind making things up? Had he tricked himself that they had come to some agreement and that he’d gotten some little power over the blond? Like respect? Why else did it feel like he’d just been run over by a horny train?

Slowly Squall got to his feet and corrected his simple clothes. He couldn’t shake the feeing of something being wrong or the unease at the man’s drunken state. Not that he noticed it on anything else than the smell and taste. Maybe it wasn’t more than just a couple glasses. He sure didn’t seem very drunk.

The youth slowly made his way to the kitchen and leaned at the doorframe. The cop was pouring a big glass of water. He popped some pill into his mouth before drowning the whole glass.

Taking his time, he noticed that the man was civilian clothed yet had some details clearly marking him as an officer. Like the heavy belt with two different guns, handcuffs and other things Squall didn’t have a name for. Through the thin shirt he could easily make out the hard edges of the west.

“You’re drunk.” He stated and got a dark eye.

“So? Got a problem with it?” The cop muttered before putting away the glass.

“Yes.” Squall simply answered and was eyed because of it.

“Then why are you living here? There must be hundreds of staggering drunks walking past every fucking day.” Almasy growled.

Squall straightened as the blond came closer.

“Done with whatever you were doing?” He asked and leaned in to capture a kiss.

Squall twisted away.

“No, and I don’t plan on doing anything else. Least with you.” He said sharply and green eyes glimmered dangerously enough to make Squall shudder inside.

If the cop was one of those mean drunks, this could turn ugly.

“Come on pretty, you know I’ll have you moaning like a whore in minutes.” Seifer sneered and Squall raised his hackles.

“I don’t fuck around with drunks. Come back when you’re sober.” The brunet hissed and tightened his stance and tried fend the man off with sheer willpower.

“I’m sure you’ve slept around with worse.” The man snorted and Squall blinked rapidly at the comment.

It… hurt. Some little tingling knot in his chest that he quickly smashed to bits and pieces.

“If you’re done throwing insults around, you can go now.” He said icily.

Seifer cursed and rubbed his face before racking the same hand through his hair.

“I didn’t mean that. I’ve had a shitty day.” He muttered and didn’t look Squall in the eye.

The brunet wasn’t ready to lower his shields anytime soon.

“Sure, whatever. Go home, sleep it off.” He said dryly and backed away to give the man room to the door.

“Listen. I didn’t mean that.” The cop persisted and caught his eyes.

They stared at each other for a long time. Squall guessed he was supposed to say something, but he didn’t know what. He opted for silence. It always worked. The cop sighed and closed his eyes for a while. When studying, Squall could make out tense lines in the face and the tenseness of muscles. Against better judgment he softened. Everyone could have a bad day he guessed.

“So what were you doing?” Seifer asked softly without looking up.

“Painting.” He answered lowly and the cop nodded.

“What about… I make something for us to eat and… just keep my distance?” Almasy proposed carefully before looking up.

Squall was heavily debating with himself. He knew it would lead to something else. Yet the prospect of food served was pleasant enough to sway him and add the expression of the blond and he was sold.

“Alright.”

*****

Not a word was exchanged from then. Squall returned to his drawings and Seifer delved into the kitchen. For just a moment Squall felt a sucking sickening feeling in his stomach. He didn’t want anyone to go through his apartment, not even to make something to eat. Then he knocked it away.

He was supposed to work away that foolish, childishness. There was nothing in his kitchen that could hurt him. So what if he only had four plates, glasses and cutlery? Or that there could be way more saucepans, frying pans and overall kitchen wear? And food. He knew he was very bad on that part.

But no complaints were heard and slowly he could go back to his drawings.

It felt strange hearing someone in the apartment while he was just sitting there painting. It felt strange just letting someone rummaging around among his things without him even supervising it all. After a while, it didn’t feel so strange. Rather… comfy.

And then the smells. He didn’t know such smells could be made from his meagre kitchen. It was enough to distract him from his work. His stomach rumbled and hurt and for once he looked forward to dinner. It ended with him sitting with his back to the board and looking at the entrance to the kitchen.

What could the man possible be doing? Somehow, Squall had just assumed the man was as lousy at cooking as Squall was. Then again, it made sense. If you lived on your own cooking was a must. The brunet guessed he too would develop some kind of cooking skill if he put some effort into learning.

When the sounds calmed down and the youth guessed it was ready, he slowly made his way through the small apartment. It was hot closer to the kitchen. It smelled enough to make Squall’s stomach complain loudly. Tentatively he looked around the corner.

Afraid maybe. For what he didn’t know.

But it was all clean and good. Dishes in the sink and table clean and set with steaming food on the plates. Seifer looked up from where he was spooning up stew on a plate. A wry smile quirked his lips.

“We need to talk about your eating habits.” He said softly.

Squall pouted before he caught himself and walked inside. It was pasta with a stew, he guessed. Looked like the blond had found the last meatballs and sausage. And… mushroom? Had he had mushroom? And onion? He had a vague memory of some long lost onion on the bottom of the fridge.

The cop was already seated and had started eating. As if proving to the brunet that it were eatable.

“Potatoes instead of noodles and pasta. And real meat instead of the excuse for it. Some fresh and frozen vegetables wouldn’t be completely wrong either. And spices. The salt you had home was hardly enough, so you’ll have to excuse the lack of taste.” The cop bereted him in good humour.

“I like noodles.” Squall said measly.

Squall frowned at his food. Taking a tentatively taste of the… stew, was enough for him to partly agree with the cop. More vegetables and spices, but still it tasted heavenly. Warm and thick and it felt really good in his stomach. One didn’t realise how hungry one was until eating.

They ate in silence. When studying the blond, Squall noticed that he for once was far from home. The eyes were distant in a way that they only were when you were thinking on something. Not that he thought the whole thinking progress was overestimating the blond but… this brooding, dark thing just wasn’t Almasy. Obviously something had happened. Squall didn’t really care, he just observed.

“Why aren’t you asking?” Almasy asked as if reading his mind.

“About what?”

“About me being an ass when you don’t deserve it.”

Squall arched an eyebrow silently asking if he ever deserved it.

“None of my business.” He muttered and looked away from the grin he was earned.

“Ah… Not your business… That’s some kind of slogan of yours?”

Squall didn’t answer and instead took deep gulps from the juice. Seifer shook his head and smirked at some private joke. But seriously, it wasn’t Squall’s business. If people wanted to tell him things all they had to do was open their mouth.

His eyes feel at the black bullet-proof west in the corner of the kitchen floor. He hadn’t seen it before but of course the cop would take it off. It must be both warm and heavy.

“A mission went wrong today. There was some gun firing.” Seifer said very monotonous.

Squall looked up at that and just absently swept his gaze over the other. He didn’t seem wounded.

“We lost a comrade.” The cop continued very humble.

There was pain there, obviously. Squall knew that pain.

“He raised me when I was a kid.”

That made Squall blink.

“Your… dad?” He asked stupidly and got a look that told him what an idiot he was.

“Of course not. When I was a newbie. He took care of us all, though he gave me a couple of kicks when I deserved it. Don’t think I’d continued on if he hadn’t knocked some sense in me.”

The full admission surprised Squall. It was spoken so lightly about. Personally he’d be in tears if such a father’s figure had died that day. Or was he reading too much into it?

He waited for the cop to continue. Somewhere along the way the man seemed to lose appetite and pushed away the half finished plate.

“It was so stupid. Not even a green horn would make such mundane mistakes.” Almasy muttered, eyes far off in the distance.

“What happened?” Squall had to ask.

He didn’t know much about police operations or how they were done.

“It would have been simple. There was a big drug exchange between two gangs. I was on the inside. It was a simple attack and seize. We had all the men there with the big guns and all that. But obviously one gang wanted to screw the other and so they had heavy back up. The police got n the cross fire.” Seifer explained, ruffling his hair.

Squall didn’t see any simple mistake in that. How could anyone have known what were to happen?

“We should have waited. Should have made the move when the gangs had split up and was walking separate ways to their cars. At least then we wouldn’t have gotten stuck in the middle.” The blond went on.

He had obviously been mulling over this for quite sometime.

“You could… stay the night.” Squall lowly offered.

He got a long gaze for the comment. It made him feel young and small. Like he was a little kid sitting beside a grown up. Like an older brother or father. Then again, there was quite the age difference between them. He didn’t know how much but he knew it was there.

“I didn’t know you held such offence for alcohol.” The cop said softly.

“I don’t… really. Not much.” The youth said quickly, which weren’t entirely true.

He’d never liked the substance and it tended to twist other people.

“You work at a night club, seems a little hypocritical.”

“I’m a worker there.” He said as only explanation.

It wasn’t the same. It was a club. There were a lot of people and security and he were working. It was different.

“What’re you painting?” Almasy asked instead.

Squall shrugged,”Just painting.”

Of course he had to show it. The man had been curious of them since he learnt Squall was drawing. The sketches weren’t much for the world anyway.

“You got anything finished?”

Squall made a gesture.

“Maybe. Nothing worth showing.”

“Shy, are you?” The man smirked.

“No, I just know what’s good and what’s bad.”

“Like you have any say in it.” Seifer said and inched closer to the boxes filed with stuff.

Squall got in the way.

“I seriously want to finish what I started.” He persisted and the cop shrugged.

“Sure, I’ll wait right here.” He smirked and made himself comfortable on the bed.

Squall frowned but then remembered he had offered the blond to stay. Stupid mouth speaking out of line.

It was difficult to find peace and that open mindedness he had when drawing. What with intense green eyes watching him. He endured it for more than half an hour before turning to bark at the man to stare at something else. But the cop wasn’t watching at all. He was fast asleep.

It made the youth quirk his lips. Strange. It was all so strange and… scary. Why did the blond come to him when obviously wounded? Because he had hoped Squall wouldn’t reject him? Or was the prospect of returning to an empty home just too much?

Whatever.

He returned to the sketch. Maybe… he could say he had a new friend?


Author’s Note:
And we’re inching a little, little closer to the core of this arc.

I guess some of you appreciated the “gift”? I’ll keep the link for a while, but it’ll go down soon as it’s a Christmas gift and not a all around year gift ;)

http://www.4shared.com/file/7861078/747a0ff4/from_shehanitan.html