Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Never have, never will. Author's note: Just a short little fic for my best friend; you know who you are. Seems I'm better at writing these little ficlets than big long ones. Grrr. Oh well. Poor Squall...

Table Manners

By Phoenix DeFuego

Squall Leonhart breathed out in a heavy sigh. It was bad enough that he had to even come to this stupid banquet, but on top of that he had to wear his SeeD uniform. Squall resisted the urge to tug at his collar and instead chose to glare at his friends. Why did his friends have to be so weird?

Selphie, Irvine, Zell, and Rinoa sat around the fancy table giggling like five-year-olds with spoons hanging off their noses. That's right. Spoons. Even Quistis had a spoon on her nose! Didn't they realize that this was an International Peace Treaty Banquet?

"Come on Squall! Don't be such a spoilsport!" Irvine laughed. Squall folded his arms, narrowed his eyes and glared even harder, if that was possible. Rinoa, who just happened to be sitting to his right, took her spoon off of her nose and raised her index finger to her lips. She tried to make a shushing noise but it sounded more like a snake with hiccups because she was trying not to giggle. At least Rinoa has some sense in her.

Rinoa turned to Squall with a mischievous glint in her doe eyes and Squall suddenly decided that Rinoa didn't have any sense after all. He glared at her through the corner of his eye as she titled his chin upwards and took his spoon, puffing hot air onto it a couple of times. Very carefully Rinoa balanced the silver spoon onto the tip of Squall's nose. Everyone doubled over giggling like sugar-high three-year-olds, their spoons clattering onto the table.

Soon Squall's friends started out right laughing when they saw their commander with his arms crossed and glaring at them with a spoon on the end of his nose. He wasn't really mad at them; in fact he was having a hard time keeping the scowl on his face.

"Ahem! Squall." Squall's head snapped forward and his back was straight as a post as his spoon clattered to the surface of the table. Everyone else sat up straight, utterly failing to hide their snickering by biting their lips. Squall slowly, very slowly, looked up at the man towering over him to his left.

"Headmaster," Squall said as evenly as possible.

"Squall, I'd like to introduce you to the new president of Galbadia, President Jack Brogan," Headmaster Cid said, indicating the man standing to his right. Squall looked over at the new president and wanted to die. The not so quiet snickering from the peanut gallery wasn't helping either. President Brogan had a square jaw and heavy brow, his blue eyes full of seriousness and his graying hair cut in a militaristic fashion.

"So, this is the Commander of Balamb Garden?" Brogan said in a condescending tone. Yes, death would be wonderful right about now.