This is, without a doubt, THE longest one-shot I have ever written. I think I've been working on it for two or three weeks now, and I just finished it. Whew. It's crazy-long, guys. Seriously.

Edit: I just want to let everyone know how freakin' amazing you guys are. This has been up for, like, five days, and it's tied with Leaving for reviews. Is it the pleading at the bottom? Do you want more stories like this? Because it's almost like, the more fucked up the story is, the more you guys enjoy it. Like, yeah, I got a couple reviews (okay, more than that) saying "This is unlikely," or, "Leon's a bad psychiatrist" or something, but... somehow most of you still like it? I don't know. Just tell me what you're thinking, because this might be the kind of thing I could write in the future, IF anyone is interested (because I usually write fluff and angst, not... whatever the hell this is). So I'm going to cross my fingers and hope you reread this story, and see the greatly lengthened A/N. :)

Allergy Information: This was an excuse to write teh pr0n. Uh. Kinda some gore, some morbidity, uh... lots of language. Crazy people. And, of course, the obligatory lemon.

"Hey, Doctor." I didn't look up from where I had buried my head in my arms. I sat in the corner of Doctor Leonhart's office at the Bayncroft asylum, my knees against my chest and my arms on my uncomfortably bony knees. "What did I do wrong?"

He was used to this conversation. It happened at least once a week: I would ask him why my suicide attempt had ended at "attempt." Sometimes he would humour me and suggest that the rope had been too long; sometimes he would completely ignore me.

No response. Today meant he was in a good mood; he would only go along with me if he was feeling sadistic enough to let me know that I was fucked up or that he didn't really care what happened to me.

"Maybe," I actually looked up when I heard his carefully voiced response. "Maybe you just weren't supposed to die."

I scoffed and put my head back down. "Strike one. Surely a higher power would have taken pity on me and struck me dead."

"I'm not saying there's a higher power, Cloud. Don't you ever feel like there's something you're meant to do?"

I lifted my head again, looking at him cynically. Was he fucking serious? I was in a mental hospital, for chrissakes! I took more pills and sedatives into my body than I did food and water! What did he mean? My life was fucking meaningless! (Strike two, I noted mentally.)

"Right." He sighed. "Stupid question."

"Hey, Doc." He looked back at me. "What's your purpose?"

He smirked mysteriously. "My purpose is to figure out what you think is wrong with you."

"Other than the whole being out of my mind thing?"

"I meant other than your… suicidal tendencies." The doctor rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "If you really wanted to die, I've given you plenty of chances, you know."

I raised my eyebrow at him.

"You were a Biology major, Cloud. Surely you could find a major artery to puncture with one of the pens I keep on my desk."

"…you'd stop me," I said weakly.

"You know you're quicker than I am. Smaller than I am, at least." That's because the food here is shit, you dick.

Oh, yes. I used to be normal. Well, outwardly. People thought I was normal; for a while, that was good enough. I wasn't a bodybuilder, but I was strong and muscular enough from frequent workouts. I wasn't altogether unfortunate looking (bright blue-green eyes, naturally soft blond hair, unruly as it was). I looked happy on the outside. The inside was another story. Sometimes, if it was loud enough, I'd hear things-- things I was pretty sure I shouldn't have heard. I never understood specific words or phrases, but I would hear a deep murmur, a vibrating echo through my body.

Then came the dreams. For a year and a half, every night, I would wake up, sweaty and panting and absolutely terrified. I didn't know what to do. I was too old for nightmares. But even that wasn't enough to drive me crazy. No, it was when I started to remember them one day. I… I was a horrible person in my dreams.

The most vivid still frightens me. It was the day I woke from that one that I'd begun to plan killing myself. I'd… I had a knife. She was bound and gagged, naked and squirming and trembling, and I'd ripped her apart. I'd torn her chest to gut, I'd seen her insides, I had been fucking bathed in her blood. The worst part was that tiny bit of satisfaction I'd felt-- even if only in the dream-- at her sobs and my power, and the horrible feeling of intimacy; no one else had ever seen that side of her. I was disgusted with myself. I'd never felt more monstrous. I was so fucking afraid that I'd do that someday, someday when I was awake and aware. I wasn't a human being. I was a beast, a monster, and if no one else would hunt me then I'd do them the favour myself.

Maybe I hadn't wanted to die. I'd wanted the world to be safe. Or maybe I was selfish, and I had wanted to be safe; I didn't have to look away from the mirror anymore because I had no mirror. I didn't have to worry about the constant nagging of guilt because, hey, who am I going to kill when I'm always doped up and everyone I'm allowed to be near is at least twice my weight? Besides, from the dreams, they weren't my "type." I only ever dreamt about torturing women my age and occasionally small, most likely socially awkward teenage boys-- people I could overpower easily. On second thought, those were people I could seduce. Here, though, I had nothing to worry about; I had no chance of either overpowering or seducing Doctor Leonhart or the ward nurses.

I still couldn't help but yearn to be outside, in the real world. I wanted to be a part of society, not just some basketcase stuck in the local nuthouse.

"Cloud?" I looked up. "Why are you here?"

"I tried to kill myself, Doctor. I thought you'd have memorized my file by now."

He sighed. "Why are you really here? What do you think is wrong with you?"

I looked away. Something about him made me want to tell him. What would it hurt? Oh, that's right. He could hate me. Not that I'd care, but… I enjoyed having this little bit of interaction. It kept me from being like my old roommate-- he'd never left his corner, and whenever someone said something to him, he'd mumble something about King Henry VIII. I'd been transferred to a private room when I'd come out of a trance and I was trying to suffocate him with my pillow.

"I think," I said slowly, "That I'm here because my family sees fit to put me here."

Doctor took off his reading glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He did that when I was particularly frustrating.

"If you don't want to tell me what's wrong with you, then this session's over." He stood and turned his back to me, but I heard him mutter something about difficult blond patients.

I stood and made my way over to his desk, sitting on the edge. "You have to promise that you won't diminish these visits. You still have to see me three times a week for an hour." My voice sounded a lot weaker than I would have hoped.

He turned to look at me. "Deal."

"I…" I looked away. This was a bad idea, but I told him I'd tell him. "I used to hear things."

"What kinds of things? Voices, or…?"

"I don't know. Well, voices, I guess, but… I never actually understood anything."

"Hearing it was frightening enough, surely. Is that why…?"

I shook my head. "No. That I could have dealt with. It was… I had these… these vivid dreams."

"About what?"

Wow, look at that floor. That's an interesting carpet right there. Yeeep. Such a lovely shade of beige. I loved the colour beige. I didn't see why people thought it bland and boring. Then again, I was the one in the crazy house.

"About what?" he said more firmly. I flinched and drew back a little; he'd gotten rather close.

"People. People dying," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "People I was brutally murdering." Again, I found myself staring at the beige carpet.

I saw Doctor Leonhart's real smile for the first time ever that day. "That's it? That's your secret?"

"What the hell?" I pushed him away. "What do you mean that's my secret?" I screamed back. "That isn't a good enough reason for you? I fucking killed people, and I fucking enjoyed it!"

The doctor stepped closer, but I backed up. "That's a plenty good enough reason when you're already scared and hearing voices. But did you ever think that maybe there was something more behind it than just killing someone?"

I blinked up at him blankly. I'd used up my daily energy quota already, so I settled for slumping against the wall and falling down on my ass.

"Did you know that murdering someone in your dreams can mean different things? It could mean you're ending a habit or an addiction. It could mean you're stressed or angry. It could also mean there's something about your victims that you just don't like, maybe a personal quality-- that's the one I'm betting on." Doctor Leonhart crouched down in front of me. "Tell me about the people you killed in your dreams."

I swallowed, fear setting in. I was about to tell him everything. "I… I killed mostly women, at first. They were about my age. Pretty. Probably popular, social. Completely perfect and normal." My hands were shaking. The doctor cautiously reached up and grabbed one of my trembling hands in a soothing gesture. I was too tired and afraid to resist. "And-- and I tore them apart, I--"

"Shh, Cloud, don't. You don't have to remember just now."

"But you asked," I said, looking up at his captivating grey eyes.

"I can't have you breaking down in my office," he said with a bemused smirk. "They'll think I torture you guys."

"I… I don't want you taken away," I confessed. "But I really want to tell you now."

"Okay. I'm going to steer this conversation, though." I looked at him questioningly. "Do you mind?" I shook my head. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, okay?"

"Alright," I said nervously.

"When did you say these dreams started?"

"Um." My brow furrowed as I thought back. "Three years ago."

"Now, according to your parents, this was just before you came out, right?"

I looked away, ashamed. So he knew about that, too…

"Cloud, that's nothing to be ashamed of." He tilted my head up. "The fact that you actually told someone instead of settling for a girl is very brave. Now, am I right about the timing?"

I thought. It was around the same time… I nodded.

"So I'm on the right track. Earlier, you said that in your dreams, you killed mostly women at first. What about after that?"

"I… uh… these younger boys…"

"Tell me about them."

"They looked like teenagers… Very small. Shy-looking, timid. They always looked so scared…" I was going to cry. Holy fuck.

"…would you freak out if I held you right now?" Doctor Leonhart asked cautiously. I shook my head, still holding back sobs, and he drew me into a warm, comforting embrace. It'd been so long since I'd felt human touch other than when I was given sedative injections. It felt foreign and overwhelming, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

We sat like that for a while, with him holding me and me trying so desperately not to cry. After a while, though, he broke the silence.

"Cloud," he said, "I don't think those dreams were anything abnormal." I drew away, looking at him like he was the one who deserved a room here. "They were a little morbid, maybe, but since when is morbidity equivalent to insanity? Look, you never actually came out-- you never told everyone, did you?"

What was he talking about? Nevertheless, I shook my head slowly.

"That's why they never stopped." I stared at him. I could have stopped them? I could have been normal? "You hated being gay, being 'feminine,' right?" I nodded slowly. "That's where your subconscious choice of victims came from. You were so stressed that someone would find out and you were so angry with yourself that you had those dreams."

I slipped into a state of denial. Did that mean…? I was normal? No, there was a mistake. Doctor Leonhart was making a mistake. I'd been here for a year, and not once had anyone suggested I was sane.

"But… what about Neil?" I asked helplessly; he was the roommate I'd tried to asphyxiate. "And the voices!"

"Even I would've wanted to kill Neil sometimes. You're so sick of being crazy and so doped up on medicine when there is nothing wrong with you that you're just gone enough to try it. As for the voices…" The doctor drew me in a little. "Maybe that's just enough reason for me to keep seeing you. But I'm strongly suggesting that they quit giving you your medicine and possibly transfer you back into a double room with a slightly less annoying roommate."

That was one level closer to the real world. (Single rooms were on the second floor; double rooms were on the ground floor.) I couldn't decide whether I was happy or afraid. On one hand… I could be normal. On the other hand… I was safe here. I didn't have to worry about dealing with people, or being gay, or even pretending to be fine. And… if I returned to the outside, to the real world, then… I wouldn't ever see Doctor Leonhart again.

"I think I'm starting to like you," I suddenly announced. I hadn't meant to say it, but that medicine fucks with your brain. Sometimes it's a truth serum, and sometimes it's a fantastic lie concocter.

I saw Doctor Leonhart smile for the second time that day. "Do you really mean that, or is it just the medicine talking?"

"It's the medicine." He looked disappointed. "That came out wrong." I shook my head. "The medicine made me say it, but I meant it."

"Then… how high a chance do I have of you throwing a fit if I try to kiss you?"

"I'd say it's about forty percent."

"…it's worth the risk," he whispered as he dipped in to capture my lips.

Okay, I lied. I knew for a fact I wasn't going to pitch a fit if he kissed me. Maybe pitch a tent… okay, that was a lie, too, because I pretty much knew that would happen if it was much more than a simple, chaste kiss. And it fucking was. He could kiss, dammit. I fell forward into him as his tongue slipped into my mouth, battling me into submission. I couldn't stop the groan that escaped my throat as he pulled me closer, onto his lap.

I'd never felt more normal. It was an infinitely comfortable feeling. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so sane-- even though his touch drove me mad.

His hands slipped up my crappy "uniform" gown, but even the thought that I was wearing a fucking dress didn't stop my shiver. His warm hands trailed up my cold, trembling legs, past my hips and to my chest. He traced every dip and hollow, only allowing me away for seconds at a time to gasp for air before he would crush our lips back together, and then his hands moved to my back. When he was satisfied that he knew all of my torso, his hands slipped back down to the very base of my spine, as if debating whether it was safe to go any lower.

I pulled myself from his addicting lips briefly. "Further," I whispered. "I want more."

Doctor Leonhart grinned and obliged, pulling me forward for another kiss. Wait. I tried to keep my thought process from derailing as his strong, large hands moved to grip my ass firmly. Crap. I wanted to ask him something… I pushed him away when I finally remembered what it was. "Your name," I gasped. "I don't even know your first name."

"It's Squall." Squall… I liked that. No one else had ever called him that in front of me; the least informal nurses simply shortened his last name to Leon.

"Squall," I tested the name on my lips. Although I knew its meaning, I couldn't remember ever actually saying the word. I liked the feel of it.

"Cloud," he replied easily. I wrapped my arms around his neck. This felt so easy. I took the initiative to kiss him this time, unsurprised when he again took control. I was perfectly content to metaphorically lie back and see where he took this. Something told me I wouldn't be doing a lot of seeing with my eyes closed all the time, but something about him made me pretty damn submissive.

Do-- Squall pulled away again. I kept my eyes shut for a brief moment, waiting for another kiss that never came. When I finally did look at him, he was observing my face intently.

"What are you doing?" I asked, embarrassed.

"Memorizing," he said softly. His eyes looked sad. Did I cause that?

"Why do you look so sad?"

Squall offered an unconvincing smile. "I'm not sad. See? I'm happy."

"Don't lie to me. Just because I've been deemed insane doesn't make me retarded."

"I just decided you weren't insane, remember?"

"Don't change the subject."

He sighed and looked away. "This is going to be a one-time thing, isn't it?"

I couldn't suppress the giggle that spilled from my lips. "Really?"

He frowned.

"Squall Leonhart, you couldn't keep me away from you with a meat cleaver."

When his face lit back up, I knew I'd said the right thing. "You know, your speech will need some work, though. That sounded pretty weird just now."

"I meant it, though. You could beat me with a meat cleaver and I wouldn't stay away."

He laughed his beautiful laugh. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'm more of a rolling pin kind of guy."

"Well, I don't think that would work, either."

Squall pressed his lips to mine again, this time only shortly. "Good," he murmured before he returned to capture my lips fiercely. I moaned, my arms instinctively tightening to keep him close. I wanted him really badly. But… I'd never been taken before, and Squall didn't seem like he planned on letting me dominate. I was no virgin-- a few anonymous flings in the bathrooms at nightclubs saw to that-- but that didn't mean I bent over at the drop of a hat-- or ever, really. I'd never had anything large inside me at all.

I was pretty sure I was willing to risk it, though. After all, this was fucking Doctor Leonhart. Wouldn't any possible emotional attachment after this be plenty worth it, no matter where it went?

When his tongue pressed against mine insistently, I made my decision. If he wanted, I did, too. Actually, I'd be pretty disappointed if this didn't lead to sex. I was over here having startling revelations!

I wasn't disappointed. Nope. Not ten minutes later and I was helping Squall out of his clothes.

"Shit," I said suddenly.

"What is it?"

"It's been an hour, hasn't it?"

He laughed. "Just about." Squall leaned in for another kiss, but I stopped him.

"What about your other patients?"

"I'm on lunch break after you."

Yes! I practically pounced him, pressing our lips together happily. Squall didn't stop me; he encouraged me, actually, by holding me against him tightly.

His body was so much warmer than mine, and I could feel the heat better without his annoying clothing blocking me. Other than his underwear, he was naked, and I pressed closer to the warmth without thinking.

Squall pulled away and I frowned. "Are you cold?" No, you idiot, I'm shivering and my skin feels like ice because I'm having a heat stroke. "Do you want to go somewhere warmer?"

I seriously thought about it for a total of two seconds. "Is it going to take longer than five minutes to get there?"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, leading me to the other side of his office. With the click of an opening door and a very slight squeak, he pulled me into a small, almost quaint bedroom. Already I felt warmer, but he helped even more by turning on the portable furnace next to his dresser.

I moved to wrap my arms back around his neck for a kiss, but he held up a finger.

"You're still clothed," he said. "See, I have this thing about people wearing clothes in my bedroom," he continued with a smirk, "So I'll have to kick you out if you don't want to part with that gown."

I grinned. "That's absolutely no problem." I carefully pulled the gown over my head, freezing when I heard a gasp. Not my best idea, because I couldn't see. "What is it?" I asked, finally managing to throw the gown off of me.

"You're so thin!" Well, no duh. Like I said-- well, thought!-- earlier: YOUR FOOD SUCKS. He began tracing my ribs with his fingers. Seriously. He should've noticed my lack of fat when he was molesting me on the floor earlier. I shivered as his hands hit a sensitive spot at the exact middle of my torso. If I wasn't sure I wanted him earlier, I was now.

"Squall, if you don't hurry this up--"

"Sorry. It's just…"

"Just what?"

He looked kind of embarrassed when he responded, "Well, even emaciated as you are, you're beautiful."

I smiled and kissed him squarely on the mouth. He looked at me curiously.

"Didn't I just tell you to hurry up?"

He rolled his eyes and pushed me onto his bed. It creaked in protest when he climbed on, too, but I was distracted when he leaned down and kissed me softly.

"If you don't want this--"

"If you stop, so help me God…"

He kissed me more roughly, and I moaned into his mouth again. Even the very slight contact from him leaning over me was driving me crazy. What would it feel like when…? I gasped as his thumbs slipped into the waistband of my boxers. I wasn't expecting it quite so suddenly, but I couldn't say I was complaining-- well, unless you consider kissing him harder and moving my hands to help him complaining.

Even though he was the first to lose the rest of his clothes, I was the first to be fully naked. I sank into the bed as he scrutinized my body, running his hands over me occasionally and checking my hips for bruises from injections. I felt too exposed. Someone actually looking at me and seeing more than a lunatic was still strange and unfamiliar, so I pulled him to me for a kiss to distract him.

Squall wasted absolutely no time before thrusting his tongue back into my mouth-- not that I minded. His hand wound its way down my stomach, and I shuddered from the light, sensuous touch; he reached my lower abdomen not too long after, and paused for a moment, probably weighing his options like the fucking supposedly logical person he was supposed to be, before his hand slipped lower. I could've died when he took hold of my erection, and my life would've been complete. Okay, maybe not entirely yet. (In about twenty minutes, though, I'll get back to you on that.)

Squall gave me a squeeze, and I whimpered. I watched with wonder as he slid down my body until his face was at my hips. I had to look away from pure embarrassment when he kissed the tip and I moaned, but that didn't stop him at all. Actually, that probably made him want to even more. He's weird that way. I was pulled from my musing again when he licked the slit. If he kept doing that, my voice was going to be gone by the evening. I never used it normally, but he kept making me make noises that I was sure would be extremely embarrassing if I wasn't incredibly turned on.

"Fuck, Cloud." I sat up a little. Last I checked, I was the one who had a sexy man licking my penis, so I was a little confused at the sudden outburst. "I can't stall anymore." He kissed my hip lightly. "Can I take you?"

I stared. Laughing would be extremely inappropriate, I reminded myself. I didn't trust my mouth to open without something at least vaguely resembling laughter leaving it, so I settled for a nod.

"Oh, thank God." My eyes met with a very sexy stomach as he leaned over me, rummaging through his drawers. I needed physical restraints to resist the erection suddenly in front of me, and seeing as I didn't have any, it wasn't my fault that I just had to lean up and lick it. And with that reasoning, I really wasn't responsible for the groan that left his lips. So I had to do it again. "Cloud," he moaned.

"Hmm," I responded, beginning to kiss along his shaft. It wasn't particularly long, but it was thick. I wasn't so sure it was going to fit.

Squall pushed my head away to return to his apparently comfortable position on top of me; this time, though, he pushed on my knees until I moved my legs. He didn't say anything, instead choosing to occupy his lips by drawing me in for a long kiss.

"Ah!" I jumped at the feeling of slick fingers circling my entrance.

Squall pulled away and kissed my jaw. "Sorry. Should've warned you."

"It's fine," I breathed. "Do something." I kissed him shortly.

Two fingers pushed past the reluctant ring of muscle, and I bit my lip. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't the most pleasant sensation in the world, either. The fingers pressed deeper into me, searching, and I cried out when they found what they'd been looking for. Squall didn't stop massaging me there, either, and I gripped his shoulders tightly.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, gods, if you stop, I swear…"

He chuckled and momentarily retracted his fingers to add more lube so that he could put in another finger. I bit my lip and exhaled shakily as three fingers pushed into me. It stung quite a bit, but it felt so good, too… I moaned and rocked back into the penetrating digits, wanting something more.

"S-Squall--! Please, more!"

I shook as he scissored his fingers deep inside me. My body was on fire, I felt like I was going to explode, and I wanted more. I wanted him pounding into me. I didn't want to settle for a replacement (namely, his fingers) because he liked watching me writhe in pleasure.

"Squall, p-please, just take me already!"

Squall pulled out his fingers and kissed me deeply. Desperately, I kissed back, arching against him with enough fervour to make a porn star jealous. His thick erection brushed against my ass; I moaned with anticipation. When he pulled his mouth out of kissing range, I nearly whimpered.

"Cloud, there's no turning back now. If you don't want this…"

I brought a hand up to his face. "Do I look like I don't want this?"

He smiled. "No."

"Good." I pulled him back down to kiss him passionately. His warm fingers inadvertently grazed my backside, sending a pleasant shiver through my body, and the head of his cock pressed against my entrance. "Squall…" I moaned as he pressed a little more insistently. "Squall, please… now… I need it…"

Squall leaned down and kissed me shortly. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"No, but I don't care." I tangled my fingers into his hair. "Please."

I was drawn into a very passionate and demanding kiss. I moaned, meeting the doctor's tongue with my own intimately. However, I tore away not too long after at sudden pain. I whimpered, but he didn't stop until his hips met mine.

"Are you okay, Cloud?"

What do you think? I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Give me a minute," I managed.

Squall stroked my cheek with a gentle hand. "Of course." He rested his forehead on mine. "Gods, you feel so fucking good."

I took a deep breath and rocked back into him; my eyes fluttered shut from the burn.

"Move," I whispered. It would feel better soon enough, I knew. Until then, just lying there wasn't helping anything.

Squall obliged with a slow, gentle rocking motion, causing me to moan. He was so deep inside me and it felt so amazing, even through the pain.

"Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, blushing a little. No one had asked me that for a long time. To draw his attention away from my flushed face, I pulled him down for a passionate kiss. His strong body moved against mine intimately, and I moaned at the sensation. I loved the way he moved against me. I loved the way it felt so distinctly intimate, like this was something I was made to do.

Squall pulled away to look into my eyes as his thrusts gained power. I bit my lip to hold back a moan, but I found I couldn't contain the pleasure that was coursing through my every vein, intensifying with every thrust.

"S-Squall… more, harder!" I clawed at his back, wherever I could reach. I could feel my release nearing with every breath, so I pulled him to me for a fierce kiss. He groaned lowly into my mouth, causing me to shudder, and I felt my entire body begin to tense. "Squall, I-- I'm going to--!"

"Me, too," he whispered huskily. His voice alone made my cock twitch, but with him thrusting into me so deeply… I came long and hard, clenching down on him. My body clung to him desperately as I experienced the most intense orgasm of my entire life. His muscular arms held me close, and before long he emptied his seed into me. I shuddered; the sensation was so strange and unusual, but so… wonderful is the only way I can put it. I felt so full.

Squall pulled out and collapsed next to me.

"Are you alright?" he asked tiredly.

"Gods, yes." I reached out to touch his jaw. "That was amazing."

He cuddled up next to me. "You were serious when you said it wouldn't be a one-time thing, right?"

"Definitely." I curled into his warm, toned body. My fingers rose to stroke his still-sensitive skin gently. "I really have feelings for you."

Strong fingers curled under my jaw, forcing me to look up at their owner. "Good," he said, "Because I've liked you since our first session."

I smiled. "Really?"

"Really." He kissed me deeply. "I don't want you to leave, Cloud."

"I don't want to go, either," I admitted, pressing my forehead against his chest.

--twomonthslater--

I peeked my head into Dr. Leonhart's office. "Hey, Leon, Marluxia's parents are visiting, and they wanted to know if they could have a word with you."

He sighed. "Yeah, send them in."

"Alright." I started to step back out, but I paused. I ran over to where he sat and kissed him quickly.

"Mm, what was that for?"

I winked. "To cheer you up."

"You know what'd really cheery me up? If you actually wore the uniform I proposed."

"I don't think your one assistant needs a uniform, Squall."

"Yeah, well, a guy can dream."

"You're pretty perverted for a psychologist."

"It's part of my charm," he said with a grin.

I just rolled my eyes and kissed him.

After a month, he announced that I was fit for society. I didn't want to leave, and he had trouble getting his work done, so he kept me as his assistant. What I didn't know before accepting the job was that "assistant" meant exhausting myself daily, because I was either filing papers, taking care of patients, or "helping" him out (if you catch my drift). Still… Squall was the closest thing I had to normal, and I loved it. I loved him. And even if it meant staying in an asylum for the rest of my life, that was okay. The real world wasn't worth it if he wasn't with me.

Uh, yeah. I haven't written anything like this basically ever, so, um. It was fun, I guess.

I'm still kinda on a temporary hiatus 'til my inspiration for this pairing returns, but... like I said, excuse to write porn, really. xD

Pleeeease review? I mean, you just spent AAAGEEEES reading that thing. A couple more minutes to write a decent review won't hurt, right? ;)