Author's Note: for my darling Areku, who suggested the prompt. That, and it's Star Wars weekend. Sheer crack.
Disclaimer: FF8 and Star Wars don't belong to me, which is a shame, really…
Squall stared at his desk with enough intensity to potentially make it burst into flames with his mind power alone. The commander sighed; he had never wanted a day off. His thoughts were wired specifically for combat and military regime and thus, he had no idea what he was supposed to do with his free time.
His eyes wandered across his desk and landed on one of the few items on the impeccably clean surface. The picture frame was simple and made of a dark, smooth wood, but it was still awkwardly obtrusive beside the lonely computer monitor and the solitary phone. From behind the glass pane of the frame was a picture of the orphanage gang plus one Sorceress in blue.
Squall's jaw clenched as he viewed Rinoa's smiling visage within the wooden border. She had been the one to convince Cid that he needed a break, and the commander found himself slightly more agitated as he remembered the way she convinced the older man. "He's still a young man, Cid," Rinoa had said in her sweetest—and most devious—voice. "He needs time to smell the flowers! Don't you remember doing that with Edea when you were our age?"
The stormy-eyed man had tensed the second he realized what his mischievous girlfriend was up to. He had tried giving the headmaster subtle signs to turn away, but Rinoa's charm and sweet smile were far more than a match for his stoic, expressionless face. Squall had almost chucked his stapler across the office.
With nothing better to do with his unwanted day off, the gunblade-wielder decided to productive with his time and head to the training center. He stalked toward his weapon of choice and balked upon swinging the case open.
Instead of his shiny, bullet-firing blade lay a plastic, bright green lightsaber.
And suddenly, something snapped inside the young man. He could tolerate being forced into taking a day off. He could pretend to put up with her sweet-talking his boss. But Lionheart was special! Lionheart was a symbol of his masculinity, his ability to chop things into little itty-bitty pieces and blow them up at the same time, and more importantly, his angst!
Rinoa had simply gone too far this time. And now, she was going down.
Squall snatched the plastic toy out of his weapon case and threw his door open, only to find Rinoa already standing before him, clad in white jeans and a ripped white shirt. A gun was strapped to her waist, and judging from the appearance, it was probably Estharian-made.
(Behind her, Angelo, toting a belt of bullets across her abdomen, chased a flailing Selphie, who wore a wrinkled green cap on her head and pointed green ears. Somewhere in the distance, a Palpatine-esque Seifer cackled madly as Raijin and Fujin—dressed as royal guards—shot young cadets that ran by in hysterics.)
Rinoa's brown eyes sparkled enthusiastically. "Squall, everyone's all ready to start—oh, good, you've already gotten your lightsaber!" she squealed, her face sporting a wide grin. Her face suddenly turned mock serious as she shook dark bangs out of her eyes dramatically. "Anakin, Darth Sidious is attacking the Jedi Temple!"
Before even processing the ridiculous statement, Squall's eyes followed Rinoa's outstretched and saw Laguna standing atop a planter with a dark cape across his shoulders and a red lightsaber in tow.
Squall's hand subconsciously raised his hand to his forehead and cursed under his breath. The elder man somehow misunderstood the action and grinned triumphantly.
"Squall—er, Anakin, I am your father!"
Beside the face-palming commander, Rinoa's face scrunched into that of irritation. "Laguna, that's the wrong line!"
Twitching, Squall immediately stepped back inside his dorm room and shut the door closed, despite Rinoa's loud cries of protest. He leaned against the door and let out an agitated sigh. How the seemingly innocent girl could convince the entire Garden to partake in a massive Star Wars cosplay day was beyond him.
Tomorrow, he would fill out an application to transfer to Trabia Garden. For now, he thought as he held the doorknob in one hand and the plastic lightsaber in another, he could at least whap the daylights out of his father with an inanimate object.