Title: Cold Shower, A Relationships for Dummies Interlude
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Shower + Smut + Incest = This Fic. Laguna and Squall on vacation. Hell. Yeah.
Warnings: PWP. OOC. Not beta-read. Re-post. Just for laughs.
Author's Note: This is a re-post. But what I've done, because I'm a bad person, is this: I've taken a story I wrote YEARS ago, and decided that it fits into this newer, unconnected series. Go me. What does it have to do with the rest of the storyline? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Go me times two.

Cold Shower

It was a quaint little cottage nestled amongst other quaint little cottages. The perfect place for two men to get away from the rigors of running a country and commanding an army, respectively. Cute little houses, really; on the Eastern coast of the Estharian continent and just made for vacations that fit the bill. All stone and brick with inviting, hidden paths off charming, lavender-filled gardens. Most of the cottages had big canopied beds, lush carpeting and feather-soft pillows for curling up beside cheerily popping fires. Everything here seemed just right for a week of relaxation. Perhaps the plumbing was a bit old and unreliable, but nothing's perfect, after all...

But on this occasion, things were indeed off to a rocky start in paradise...

People passing by the cottage hurried by quickly, hands over their ears in futile attempts to protect their hearing. Woodland creatures and birds fled as fast as their little legs and wings could carry them. But no distance seemed far enough to save them from what threatened like a drunken cacutar, ready to strike. Something fearful was on the air and it only worsened, sending man and beast alike into a frenzied retreat.

"I'M TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT, TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT! SO SEXY IT HURTS!!!"

Laguna was singing in the shower...again...and the neighborhood might never recover.

Squall had been prepared for the worst. He had known it was coming from the moment Laguna had padded to the dresser to retrieve a clean towel. Had steeled himself for the onslaught when he saw "the look" in Laguna's eyes. The look that said "I'm going to sing the minute the water hits me and you have to live through it." Seeing that look, Squall had reacted the way any well-trained SeeD would under the circumstances: he had readied his defense and prepared for battle.

Earplugs?

Check.

Blaring loud music to drown out the racket?

Check.

Mind-numbing paperwork to distract?

Check!

Satisfied, he had locked himself in the room farthest from the Bathroom of Doom and had waited to see the results of his preparations.

"...THE WAY I'M DISCO DANCING! I'M A PRESIDENT, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN? AND I DO MY LITTLE TURN ON THE CATWALK..."

It wasn't quite like the sound of a drowning chocobo, but it came close. It seemed to Squall that Laguna intentionally hit the wrong notes just to spite him. As loudly as possible. And the most horrifying part of it all: he was changing the words and the new ones didn't fit. Oh Hyne...Could it get any worse?

"YEAH ON THE CATWALK, YEAH, I SHAKE MY LITTLE TUSH ON THE CATWALK!!! GO 'GUNA, IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY! GO 'GUNA!!!!"

Apparently it could...

Squall took a deep, calming breath, trying to remember that he had dealt with much worse than this. What was one singing moron compared to a vicious sorceress or a hotdog shortage at Garden? Hell, this should have been as easy as letting Gilgamesh win a fight for him in comparison. He nodded to himself and tried to focus on anything other than what sounded like a chorus of tone-deaf Blobras in the bathroom. Yes, calming thoughts, that's what he needed. Besides, Laguna might take a blissfully short shower and, after all, every song had an ending...

"AHHH! PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC, WHITE BOY!!! PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC RIIIIIGHHHT!!!!"

Of course, that only meant that a new song would start. Perhaps this was revenge for something he had done wrong in a past life. If it weren't so painful to listen to, the SIGHT of Laguna in the shower would have been beautiful. Squall's mind wandered just long enough to imagine the man's muscled chest, sculpted and shining from soap and water, his long-fingered hands moving over his skin roughly to scrub it clean. The only sounds in his fantasy were the sounds of water drumming a tempo against skin and the slosh of sweetly-scented soap over gloriously revealed flesh. The details of the little scene toyed with his body, made desire take up residence in a very obvious location even as the images sharpened to become steadily more distracting.

Laguna's too-long hair clung to his face even when it was damp. Dripping wet, it plastered itself to his cheeks until Laguna pushed it back, slicking it there and smiling in an unconsciously boyish way that was unique to him. If he let himself sink further into the fantasy, Squall could see Laguna beckoning him with a little nod, holding the soap out to him in a tempting gesture. And taking that soap meant he could touch the man, let his fingers spread the lather over his back, down his sides, around to the firm, low hills of his stomach and lower...

"LAY DOWN THE BOOGIE AND PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC TILL YOU DIE!!!"

So much for his nice quiet fantasy...

Squall sighed and mourned the loss of the erotic mental picture. He knew Laguna would start a new song soon since he only knew half the words to "Play that Funky Music White Boy" and filled in all the blank spots with "Something, something, boogie, hum, hum, till you die, hum, hum..."

"COMING TO YA, ON A DUSTY ROAD, GOOD LOVIN' I GOT A TRUCKLOAD! AND WHEN YOU GET IT, YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHIN', SO DON'T WORRY, 'CAUSE I'M COMIN'! I'M A SOUL MAN!"

Sweet Hyne. Soul Man? Squall listened and waited for Laguna to fill in with his best horn impersonation...

"BA-DA-DUM! BA-DA-DA-DUM!"

Right on schedule. And that about settled it for Squall. The calming routine and the not-so-distracting-after-all paperwork went out the window and he immediately switched into a more active, soldierly frame of mind. He suddenly became a man on a mission. First, the earplugs came out with two firm tugs since they were about as effective as squirting Ifrit with a water gun.

"I'M A SOUL MAN!!! BA-DAA-DA-DUM!"

Actually, he corrected himself; the water gun was probably more effective.

Secondly, he stormed out of the room like an army of monsters was chasing after him. He rounded the corner and marched down the hallway, barefoot, to where the singing was at a concussive volume. It was a determined stride that brought him to the bathroom door and he only cringed once at the sounds that bombarded his ears, more painful than being struck by Meteor over and over and over...

He flung the door open and stood firm, suddenly bathed in steam at the threshold; a heroic figure out to save the neighborhood from caterwauling no matter what the price. The only thing that could have made him feel more righteous was the Lion Heart in his hand and snazzy music playing from some world-wide loudspeaker.

"I WAS EDUCATED FROM GOOD STOCK, WHEN I START LOVIN' I JUST CAN'T STOP!"

Squall stopped just inside to peer at the sight through the frosted glass of the spacious shower. It was just like his fantasy, only better. Even blurred and somewhat distorted, Squall could see

Laguna's head tilted back as if worshipping the spray, his pretty, pretty mouth moving nonstop. A perfect wet-dream if not for the loud warble coming from it. The desire that had taken up residence in his pants earlier was now building a condominium. Squall shook himself out of the reverie and remembered his duty to save the neighborhood and all the poor, suffering wildlife.

Laguna's singing was so loud, Squall doubted he would hear Balamb Garden crashing into the front yard, more or less the sounds of his son stalking steadily towards his goal...In the corner, a porcelain shape gleamed with otherworldly light, and a choir of angels seemed to sing just as he reached his hand towards it...

"WELL GRAB THE ROPE, AND I'LL PULL YOU IN! GIVE YOU HOPE, AND BE YOUR ONLY BOYFRIEND! Yeah, YEAH, Yeah, YEAAARGHHHH! EEEEeeeeekkkkkkk!"

Who'd have thought a man could make his voice reach that octave?

The smile that crept across Squall's face was concentrated triumph. He had to admit, killing Ultimecia hadn't even felt THIS good. To think that merely flushing a toilet could bring such glorious results...

From the curses and racket coming from the shower and the blurred, flailing shape, it was clear that Laguna was hopping around in something that greatly resembled pain and shock.

"Ow, ow, ow! Cold, cold, cooooold!!!"

And Squall's smile only lengthened until it happily dominated his face. He focused his gaze at the glass door and waited. "Three, two, one..."

"SQUALLLLL!" Laguna bellowed just as he escaped the icy torture chamber, green eyes wide in a cold-induced horror.

The site of Laguna hopping out of the shower, naked as the day he was born and turning a fetching shade of blue made life worth living somehow. Squall crossed his arms over his chest and enjoyed the show.

The older man, relieved to be in warmer climates, hunched over, breathing heavily and every few seconds a shudder rippled through him.

"I'm....going....to...k-kill...you..." he managed, teeth clattering together between words.

Squall clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head in exaggerated sadness. "I'd say that was child abuse, language like that."

"Do you have...ANY idea...how...c-cold that water is? Hmmmmm?"

Tilting his head from side to side, Squall appraised Laguna's skin color. Closer to Jellyeye purple, maybe....

"Oh, I can guess..."

The joking tone in Squall's voice was enough, it seemed, to bring Laguna to his full height. He leveled a cold, calculating look at his son, and his eyes flashed with an expression Squall was afraid to identify. Perhaps he had overplayed his hand...But it was worth it. Laguna even looked good cold and shivering. The whole "naked" thing just worked for him.

"You can guess?" Laguna repeated, and his tone was an accusation, the kind of voice he would use if he suspected someone of hitting a Moomba. "Well...guessin' just ain't good enough!"

Squall never saw it coming. The bathroom tilted in his vision and he only barely registered the feel of hands on his collar, so intent was he on the feeling of being pulled and pushed until he was...

"Ice-cold, soaking wet! Ha! Ha! How's it feel, boy? Huh?"

If he weren't so angry, he would have had some sympathy for Laguna. The water felt like someone cast Blizzaga on it a million times over and then let Shiva take a dip in it.

"C-cold!"

"I know!" Laguna proclaimed, holding Squall under the numbing spray by his collar. He got a total of five more seconds of gloating before he lost his advantage with a humiliating lack of grace.

"Ughhh!!!!" was all Laguna could manage when he found himself sandwiched between one cold, angry SeeD Commander and a very chilled, tiled wall. With Squall's arms menacingly placed on either side of his head and his sword-grey eyes boring into his with all the intensity of the Lunar Cry, Laguna managed a simpering, apologetic smile and an equally pathetic little laugh.

"Umm...sorry?"

Squall, his breathing heavy and his face only inches away from Laguna's, didn't reply but his eyes narrowed. Laguna wondered if it was genuine anger or something else that caused that expression. His question was concisely answered when Squall's chilled lips ground into his. "Oh," Laguna's mind exclaimed and he had to agree. "Oh" was a very good response.

Then it was hands and lips and teeth eating at earlobes, tongues licking at collarbones. Deep throated moans and roaming fingers that heated what the water had cooled. And still the icy water beat down on them, sending little shockwaves through Laguna wherever they hit, making him more responsive to hands here, fingers cupping there, stroking everywhere.

But Squall did have an annoying habit of wearing too much clothing at the wrong time. The shirt peeled off him easily enough since it didn't take too much finesse for Laguna to slide his hands under and just pull, but his fingers were numb from the cold and simply couldn't work the buckles on his belts. He cursed under his breath softly his head lowered, focused entirely on the task.

He only looked up when sure hands swatted his away and deftly removed the belts in record time.

"How do you...d-do t-that?" Laguna shivered, desire and cold keeping his body out of his control. He jerked with every touch, whimpered at the feel of Squall's hot breath over his toughened nipples.

"Practice," was all the answer Laguna got before Squall took his hand and guided it towards his arousal. Laguna wrapped his fingers around the length as best as he could and found himself wondering about

Squall's pants. What were they made of, anyway? Leather? Would they shrink?

"Oh...oh!"

Squall's hands had mimed Laguna's and were now tracing lines over sensitive areas, massaging and caressing, making the arousal all the more painful, all the sweeter. Suffice it to say, all thoughts of the material of Squall's pants left his mind rather quickly.

His own hands were making a bold attempt, but his fingers simply wouldn't work. He was shivering from wanting and probable pneumonia and Hyne if he wasn't going to have the most intense orgasm of his life before he caught his death.

Later, he promised Squall silently. I'll make it up to you later. But at that moment, he let his hands fall away to clutch helplessly at slick tile walls, to rake through his hair and finally to settle on Squall's shoulders. He wasn't in control of his hips. They forced him into the tunnel of Squall's hands recklessly, arching far off the wall and then back again with force enough to make the glass door shake. He didn't know what caused it, but there was warmth in Squall's hands; heat that circled him and made everything more intense, more primal, like letting go and just feeling. In fact, everywhere Squall touched was suddenly infused with a heat that faded when his hands moved on. The whole process made the shock of the cold water a hard, concentrated kick to his libido each time.

All the sensation barely gave his mind enough time to wonder exactly how Squall seemed fine in the cold spray when he was probably going to suffer from hypothermia any moment now. But first, he was going to try to get Squall to go a bit faster and a whole lot harder...

"Nnn...m-more," was the best he could do and he wondered when he became so damn desperate. He sounded like a teenage hotshot all over again! All Squall's fault...

"Hmmm?" was Squall's hum of a reply against his neck and it tickled even when most of the sensation was far below there...

"M-m-more!" he shivered out, torn between fury and lust.

Squall ignored the request and kept the motion steady, prolonging the sensations for Laguna as long as possible, refusing to speed up or tighten his grip. He smiled against the other man's neck, enjoying the idea that Laguna was probably louder now than he had been singing in the shower.

Laguna was one hell of a screamer and no denying that he was very, very good at it. The sounds alone almost finished Squall right then.

Instead of such a quick end, he decided on a change in strategy. His hand dropped away which quickly caused the sweet sounds of Laguna begging. As delicious as those were, he preferred the gasp Laguna made when he dropped to his knees and let his mouth finish what his hands had started.

Laguna was suddenly very happy about the change and even happier that Squall had such a clever, clever mouth.

Squall felt it shortly after Laguna, who gasped at the sudden change. The water slipped back into heat just as Laguna's hips began jerking fiercely. Squall had to force him back against the wall and hold him there. Laguna's skin was warming under the new, welcomed heat and his usual cream-colored skin returned, flushed and lickable. A glance up revealed Laguna's shuttered eyes, slack mouth and head moving from side to side, compensating for hips that would surely be bruised from the force it took to hold them still. The feel of Laguna's fingers working against his scalp urged him on to more daring plays with his tongue, his teeth. And who would have thought he'd enjoy hearing his name screamed like that?

With a final violent arch off the wall, Laguna was suddenly shivering from both cold and passion-spent weakness. There was no sound of Squall swallowing, just the patter of water, the deep uneven breathing.

Squall stood and caught Laguna, held his now rag-doll limp body close to him. His arms were the only things keeping Laguna from sprawling onto the shower floor. With their bodies this close and the now steamy spray bathing them, Squall could feel Laguna's shivers subsiding, his breathing returning to normal. A moment later and Laguna stood on his own.

He immediately took to laughing.

"Damn...gonna have to shower all over again," he murmured, kissing Squall almost absentmindedly, sharing the taste that went deep down the back of his throat. Squall returned the kiss, stoically ignoring Laguna's thigh pressing into his own unattended problem.

Luckily, Laguna's fingers had feeling again and he seemed to have noticed how they could be of use just in time. Squall was forced against a wall and held there by a playful looking Laguna.

"How the hell," Laguna asked, hands stroking with each syllable, "were you able to do ANYTHING in that cold?"

Eyes heavy lidded and mouth stifling a honey-coated moan, Squall tried his best to answer.

"Laguna...with Shiva junctioned, how long did you think the cold would bother me?"

Understanding dawned on Laguna's still youthful face. "Damn SeeDs," he cursed against Squall's lips and let his hands say the rest for him. Squall, however, seemed to have quite a lot to contribute—in choked, breathy expletives.

"Nnn...nn....Damn! Now! Please....unnnn......PLEASE!"

"Serves you right for the stunt you pulled!"

The inhabitants of the neighboring cottage were never really sure which sounds were worse: the horrible singing or the names screamed with passion off and on at all hours of the day for the next few days. Though they had to admit, their gardens had never been this free of woodland pests before.

The End, For Now