one • lions and logs

Isn't that the crazy girl who keeps stealing my underwear? «hypothetical squall leonheart»

× go ..

A yawn sounded throughout our small room. I sat up slowly, squinting against the sun. I could stretch, moan, move, and cause nuclear holocausts as much as I wanted. I could guarantee you, the man on the left side of the bed wouldn't notice. He never did. Now, now, before I get miles ahead of myself, I'll have you know that we weren't "together" or anything of the like. That's just...you know...a bit...ew. Beyond all reason and laws of physics. …And you know, ew. Squall smells like old pumpkins.

I cast an annoyed look at the brunette lying beside me. My the-world-is-against-me-no-one-understands-o-m-g-angst! radar was blaring in my ear. Of course I was stuck with him. There simply weren't enough beds. Aerith (our other friend or companion or healer angel lady...dude... girl-man... hah.) had insisted on having her own room for reasons unknown to us at the time (I still think that she wears Pull Ups) and we couldn't afford another hotel room even if there was one available.

We had originally switched off sleeping on the king sized bed, every other night. But whoever had to sleep on the floor often had stiff muscles in the morning, and that was no condition for a town guard against the Heartless. This caused many arguments and eventually toppled our fragile tower of cooperation. (Not that there was one in the first place. See, in order for a tower to exist, a couple of people have to build it. Implying friendship, or at least being civil. Meaning, in a word: No.)

I ended up sharing a bed with a big, angry, stoic, angst-ridden log.

…I truly am amazing, you know.

I sighed and lifted the sea foam comforter from my thin legs. The similarities between the two (him and the log) were uncanny. They talked the same amount: 0 words per minute. The probably felt about the same—no—cough, cough—I believe I nearly told a lie— scratch that. The log had more feelings than him. I snorted and folded one of those legs beneath me. My finger slowly made its way to that log of a man and poked him hard. If anything, the roar that was his snoring only got louder.

Like I said before; he slept like a log. Of course, it was a little difficult to imagine a log sprawled out on our unkempt green bed making enough noise to set off any near-by car alarms or mad old ladies with rolling pins. The wet pink tongue hanging out of his mouth and small puddle of drool forming under it didn't exactly help.

No, I decided firmly, he didn't sleep like a log. He slept... like a lion; a lion with a sleep disorder. (His lion sleeping reminded me mildly of being utterly against the laws of nature.) By day a chunk of wood, by night a feline with breathing problems. My face drooped into a blank expression. Watch out Superman.

And so, to make a long ranting short, that, my friends, is how I, Yuffie Kisargi, was stuck rooming with a temperamental; sleep apnatic lion-log named Leon...

And you haven't heard the half of it.

I pushed back the thick white headband to reveal a pair of chocolate colored eyes staring back at me through the mirror. I had always liked my eyes. They were big, and innocent looking; it made for great lying skills. There was a little bit of almost black fringe surrounding them and towards the middle they were amber. Of course, that was the only part of my appearance I did like… I mean, you try living your whole life with Aerith and at Hollow Bastion, Tifa and Rinoa… It gives a big ol' blow to the self-esteem, it does.

Yep. So compared to the freakishly beautiful people I was surrounded with, I was an ugly duckling. I lived with Aerith, and everyone's beauty pales in comparison to hers. Heck, Squall was prettier than me. And believe me, he was pur-tay. One of those girly-men. He should put some mascara on those insanely long eyelashes of his... Hah. Anyway, I heard somewhere that woman are more attracted to men with feminine features… If so, I am, as of late, very surprised that Squall didn't have a rabid fan-club following him everywhere he went.

I let my hand brush against the cool glass that contained my unruly reflection. It was hanging haphazardly on the wall next to the bed I had just gotten off of. I was still in my P.J.s and my hair, which I hadn't washed in a while, was jutting out in a thousand different directions at once. I pulled on my clothes and then set to work on my little orange gloves.

A strange noise, somewhere between a snort, a moan, and a gurgle announced the waking of Leon. A….. smurgle…? I rolled my eyes and let the glove upholstered hand fall limp at my side. "'Mornin', Squall."

A muffled, "It's Leon!" came from his blanket covered head; hiding from the light. I 'tsk'ed and shook my head, whirling to face him.

"What? Did the Heartless brainwash ya, or something?" I taunted, hands on knees, face in face. "The light is good, remember?"

He groaned.

"You suck."

Curse that Aerith and her big watery green eyes. Making me wake him up in the morning. So, naturally, being the obscenely great ninja that I am, I grabbed the first thing that came into my vision, which happened to be a pickle.

I'm going to answer your question before you ask it. No, I'm not physic. I've just been asked a million times. It's kind of a funny story—well, not really—but...yeah...I am awesome.

See, I've always liked pickles...

Funny story, huh?

Anyways, I pulled back his covers and, after surveying his bird's/squirrel's/ew-don't-wanna-know-what-that-is's nest of a head, I whacked him with the pickle, smelling the crisp, sour fumes. I hit him again, "Ah… I love the smell of dill in the morning…"

THWACK

"Yuffie?"

THWACK

"Yuffie!"

THWACK

There was suddenly a hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear about something concerning "Pickled cucumbers" and "all burnt."

Well, that just maybe got my attention. I turned slowly still holding the green produce, ready for assault. My eyes met the aforementioned, big—though not watery at the time—green ones. In fact, they looked really... terrifying.

I gave a few nervous "heh"s and scratched the back of my neck. "H-hey there, Aerith! Good... morning?" She flipped her long dirt-colored braid over her shoulder. Did she ever take that thing out? For as long as I could remember, I had never seen the flower girl with her hair down. That's… strange. I'll bet she has a big fat bald spot right in the middle of her head.

"What are you doing?" she tapped her booted foot on the floor, emitting a muffled thud.

I looked around, formulating a plan, "Um… me speaky no English?" It was a long shot…. A very long shot. Like, to Hollow Bastion and back, long. But a girl could try, couldn't she?

"Yuffie, that may be the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life." And the lesson, children, is that you should never try too hard.

I folded my arms across my stomach defensively, "Hey! You try waking up that...that..." Searching for a horrible insult, I hesitated. "Man!" Not what I had in mind, but... not... bad...

Aerith pursed her lips and gently tapped Squall's shoulder, which was once again hidden by that aqua comforter.

"Leon——"

"OH MAH GAWD!" a deliriously shrieking voice cut the flower girl off. There was a salvo of simultaneous flashes that nearly blinded me, and—after blinking away all the colorful spots and things that looked suspiciously similar to Smurfs away—a bright red face came into view. Frizzy brown hair surrounded the red face, and hazel eyes shone (starry) in the middle of it. I winced. So, Squall did have his own fan club after all. Great.

It was... the sushi lady of certain death and destruction!

Also known as, "Isn't that the crazy girl who keeps stealing all my underwear? She's always asking for money." "Leon, you really should learn the name of the manager." "Omigawd! Where are my bunny slippers? She's so gettin' a shuriken in the back of the head when I'm not too lazy to go after her!"

...Or, in fact, Shyree, manager of the Hotel. And in love with Squall to boot.

Obsessed, really. It was kind of creepy.

'Kind of' being a relative term.

"He has no shirt on! OH MY GAWD!" she ran over to the sleeping form of my roommate with her sweatshirt hood flapping along behind. One hand on the bare chest that I had the immense pleasure of poking every so often and she was out.

As in... passed out.

"Shyree?" asked Aerith worriedly, rushing over to her and bending over.

I too bent over the small girl. "Is she... like... dead?"

She looked to simply be in shock, her eyes were tightly shut and she was clutching her camera like it was her life force. Which, then again, it may have been. "She's fine," replied Aerith with a puzzled sound to her voice, observing Shyree's delirious grin with a cluck of her tongue. "She'll wake up soon!" she said brightly, clasping her hands and picking up where she left off. With another tap on Squall's shoulder, she asked, "Will you wake up please, Leon?"

The big lump shifted and fell still. I smirked haughtily. (If I couldn't do it, no one could!) But then a callused hand emerged from the opening in the top that I, I noticed with a silent laugh, made; followed by an arm, and then a shoulder, head and chest. The whole complex, that was most likely Leon, sat up. "Morning Aerith… What time is it?" My smirk disappeared.

Of course. Of course, he wakes up for her. I shook my head. If I ever did that, he would roll over and then give me weird looks all day—claiming that I was "on drugs" and asking if I "was still practicing abstinence". Yah, whatever. (That is if he ever woke up.) Aerith just had that effect. She could make any man do anything for her. (This is not to taken lightly, considering that Squall was such a girly-man. Or is the correct term, metrosexual? Girly is better.) And all she had to do was ask nicely.

Jealous...? Me?

..Shut up.

All I got was some muscles; a happy smile and the ability to dress up like a boy and actually look like one. She was the flower; not just a flower girl. So delicate and pretty… but if you're allergic and you get too close: deadly. Allergic or Sephiroth. Aerith, if given the opportunity, would totally kick Sephiroth's girly silver ass.

Have I mentioned that many of the men I know are girly?

Aerith gave me one of those overrated honey smiles and pranced back into her room. Her look, before she disappeared through the dividing door, clearly said, 'That's how it's done.'

"It's eight-thirty," I answered Leon's question sourly as he settled back into the bed and prepared to pull the covers over his head. I looked down at the girl at my feet, poking her with my toe, and noticing that there was a hole in my sock. Shyree twitched and I sighed.

I quickly put on a sly grin, "And you'd better get ready, or I'll shave your legs while you sleep." I watched with some kind of sick satisfaction as, in flash of godly, shirtless light, grumbled past me and, trying to get his clothes out from under Shyree, fell over, where I stepped happily over them and out into bright summer sunlight of Traverse Town.

Now, that's how it's done.

× intermission ..

There were two moons in Traverse Town. One came out at night, and looked like most moons on most worlds. It had a bluish glow that reflected off of ponds and showed much longer than the actual night should have lasted, trying to hold on to its visibility so it wouldn't fade away altogether. It seemed sad and it sulked constantly. Iridescent tears falling and becoming the stars that people wish on. It hid from the sun and became so jealous that it grew thin and sharp, tearing the sky.

And then, there was the other. It came out during the day, and was never too far from the bright yellow sun. It had the color of fire, trying to be the second sun and luring the night moon into the day sky. Sometimes that sad moon came out—a dim silver in the daylight—and sometimes it stayed in the darkness with its tears. And the great orange moon never seemed come into the night to get it. I always assumed it was afraid of the dark.

× on with the show ..

Squall soon followed me with an 'I-may-kill-you-if-you-ever-move-ever-again-..ever' look on his face. I was slightly afraid of this look. Mostly though, I was terrified that his little girlfriend would follow us. And kill me for being female.

Aah... so many death threats, so little time.

I didn't wish to die, my friend. I had already made up my mind to die by piano to the head. I would be in newspapers and the rest is future..istory, I suppose.

Squall growled, taking a violent hold of my upper arm and forcing me to go faster. "She's following us, you know." He may have had no idea that his hand was like some kind of mutant vampire vice-grip come back from the dead to haunt all those who offended its master by leaving said master in hotel rooms with scary obsessed little girls who are in love with people twice their age.

Wow. He needed to get a clue.

That is one long title.

Coming out of my daydream, I realized that Squall was still angrily muttering into my ear, tightening his grip with every word. I rolled my eyes and caught the wrong part of the rant. "...is a sick freak! She was about to forcibly rape my hair—"

I cut him off there by ripping my arm out of his hands and saying, "Don't touch me! I'll call child services on you; you evil, scary man!" I really, really didn't want to hear about Squall's hair's... endeavors. You don't even know the meaning of shudder until you think long and hard about that one.

Grossness.

He looked slightly shocked when I pulled away, sticking out my tongue happily. Though, I doubt that he was shocked because of anything I did. More shocked that he had not avoided physical contact as if it might give him boils and set his balls on fire... forever. He was always mad at himself for one thing or another, right? "Whatever... let's just go get some breakfast..." Translation: I'm so famished I think I might die from the horridness of it!

"Yeah, yeah... You're paying today." Translation: Omigawd Squall! I want to have your sexy babiessss!

And, I thought later, taking a bite out of my pancakes and watching in amusement as Shyree chased Squall around the Café with a pair of scissors, I think today might be interesting

× pause ..

• & the slug said: - Welcome to The Truth About Traverse Town! I hope you enjoy the crazy-ness and random-ness and overall Squffie-ness! It's quite fun to write!

Don't hate me! It had to be done. Er... gah... I'm just deleting the other version... and it makes me cringe to do so, but I have to. HAVE TO. I'm sorry if you have a problem with it, but I think... that I'm going to miss all my reviews. —sob—

Review and I'll make Yuffie shave Squall's legs for all to see.

Don't kill me, Tally-chan! O.O

J.BLUE
(m)

—DiSCLAiMER/CLAiMER— all material that is recognizable as a character, place, or concept from Kingdom Hearts or any other Final Fantasy game is © to Squaresoft. However, all characters, places and concepts that are not identifiable are © to JanuaryBlue, and I would prefer you didn't use said material in your own stories without my consent. Once you've got the consent, you can mock my disclaimer shamelessly and laugh at me until the dawn is dead. Good luck with that. Tootles.