"Are you serious?" Tidus incredulously asked, raking his fingers through his hair. "How long is this going to last?"


Cecil watched on, before he commented: "For a while."

And forth.

"Man, I can't sleep!"


"Likewise. Cloud and Lightning are persistent."

And forth.

"I can't believe this."


"It is all too apparent."

And forth.


Over and over and over and over and over: Tug of war was obviously repetitive, anyway.

"Is it done, now?"

But too bad Squall was in the middle.


"Time for your lesson, schoolboy."

Turning towards her companion's direction, Lightning drew her gunblade and quickly took on an offensive stance, acutely regarding the other in intense cautiousness. She could see Squall deftly spinning Lionheart in a perfect arc before he narrowed his gaze, and the surge of magic within licked eagerly at her fingertips for release, making the thrum of the impending challenge sharpen her perception. The first move was near: She could feel it, for she was the one to—

"Is it just me, or did that sound reallyinappropriate?"

Lightning grit her teeth while Squall sighed.

There were too many blond moments that day.



Cloud looked down at the box and froze.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Lightning curtly replied, crossing her arms against her chest as she scoffed. "Terra even confirmed it."

For a while, nothing was said, the silence proving to be the loudest thing between them, the weight of the item in his hands duplicated; his brow furrowed deeper as he locked his gaze onto the package, and he nearly rubbed his temple like a certain someone did.

If he was human.

Because there, scratching at the walls in lucid irritation, sat Squall Leonhart: ears, tail, paws, brown coat, and all; because there, his confusion radiating, was a small kitten that meowed frustratingly; because there included a pink Build-a-Bear Workshop kit, along with a live, diminutive animal.

And they didn't know a damn about it.

"It's …" A pause. "It's …"

"Cute!" Bartz laughed, suddenly looking over Cloud's shoulder. "I didn't know that you two liked little cats! Wow, I bet Squall will really dig this!"

As much as he liked catnip, Lightning found.


"I don't like chocolate."


"I don't eat it."

Pass again.

" … Are you attempting to make me fat?"


Fitting into those leather pants is a sin.


"Move over."

Frowning, Lightning narrowed her eyes at the stubborn man, fisting the blankets before she forcefully tugged them more towards her side of the bed. The silence that rang in the room, aside from Squall's sigh, was apparent, and the tolerance she was slowly accumulating seemed to dissipate at how she was being ignored for the umpteenth time that night. She didn't want to share the covers with this idiot of a blond who hogged the mattress: If the gunblader wasn't already sleeping between the both of them, she would've had no qualms for taking this outside—where the arm resting Squall's head wasn't used as an advantage, where she didn't have to worry about having a particularly cranky adolescent maintain absolute silence towards her.

"Move over," she acutely whispered, mindful of Squall unconsciously moving closer to her. "Now."

The arch in Cloud's brow proved more than capable of displaying his adamant nature. "Or what?"


Or what, indeed.

That is, if they ever knew that Squall chose to sleep in the Warrior of Light's room from then on.

And possibly suffocate him.