Yet another question I never thought I'd ask myself: "Should implied running-around-in-public-naked be rated K+ or T?"

The unnamed character and "Gav" belong to mame-inu and pyjamaTerra - respectively - from deviantArt, taken from a scene from proximity-nine's account (details follow in dA uploaded version).

"He's not my problem!"

"Well, guess what? From now on, he is. Go forth."

The door to the office slammed against the wall with loud proclamation, and Officer "Leon" Leonhart stormed right out in the foulest of foul moods. Greeting him from the interior of the detention cell was his weekly nightmare in all his blond spiky wonder.

"Hello, Wilbur." The greeting was soft, but with a hint of provocative amusement. Another nerve threatened to pop at the brunet's temple and he ground his teeth in annoyance.

"Mr. Strife," he returned said greeting with his own icy one.

"That's my name, officer," the blond detainee purred.

"You've done it again."

"That I have."

"Why do I always get stuck with you?"

"I wouldn't know."

At last, Leon gave up and sat down by the desk. He had done this week after week, and today would be no exception; someone would show up to bail the sod out, and he'd be free to deal with other much smaller headaches for the rest of the week and three days more.

All he had to do until then was stare at him, get stared back at, perhaps engage in a little conversation, and that was that. It sounded good in theory.

It was impossible in reality. Leon did not need the previous times as evidence - already, the infamous Cloud Strife was testing his patience all over again. Sure enough, there was a rustle of thick cotton pooling upon a hard surface, and the blond man came up to the bars.

"Mr. Strife-"

"Cloud's fine, you know."

"Put the towel back on."

In response, Cloud made a face as he stated solemnly, "It chafes."

"You should have thought of that before you decided to go streaking again."

"What happened to the one I used last week? That one was comfy."

"You were using a shawl you stole from the Commissioner's daughter."

A hum of acknowledgment. "That was your sister, wasn't it?"

"Unfortunately for you," Leon ground out, before continuing in a more civil tone, "Ellone says hello, by the way."

"Give her my regards."

For a moment, there was silence - Leon was making an effort to ignore the one he was supposed to keep an eye on, with little success. The immodestly uncovered Cloud was too liberal with the manner he was draping himself over the horizontal upper bar, and they both knew it.

The Weekly Streaker was bored, and the Unfortunate Officer on Duty was going to pay for it.

"So... Squall."

"That's Officer Leonhart to you, Mr. Strife. Sit down."

"Why is my bail higher than usual today?" At the innocent question, Leon relented enough to answer honestly.

"You picked the wrong party to crash, and the wrong people to piss off."

"I'm an active inspiration," Cloud spoke up in his own defense. "I provoke the masses to assert themselves."

"Do you." It wasn't a question, but it was still rhetoric. Yet humanity hardly ever respected the rhetorical, and now was no exception.

"I do. Oh, and I found out today that I have an active fan now." This comment sparked Leon's momentary interest, which he chose to express.

"Really."

With an affirmative hum, Cloud leered openly as he added, "an active fan boy."

He had walked right into that one, and the brunet could only flinch as he realized it too late. "...please tell me he's too tactful to start running the streets naked as well."

"You'd be surprised what else can be done in the name of self-expression..."

"Hey Gav, do you have dreams about flying?"

"No, and why are you wearing a dress?"

"I suffer for my heroic deeds, and like Zorro I am remembered as noble."

"That does not excuse mooning the mayor, the Queen, and the ambassador of the next continent all in the same minute."

Cloud failed to look apologetic in any way as he jested his protest: "Hey, my lace came undone; I had to bend over."

At once, Leon looked the other man dead in the eye, and slowly his left brow quirked but once as he reinforced the claim with facts.

"Your lace came undone..." there was a pause, and his finger jabbed pointedly downward at an angle. "...on your lace-less tennis shoes?"

"They're invisible, and only smart people can see them."

In the face of the smug grin sent his way, Leon could only slap his palm into his forehead with a tired groan. "... Why do I bother?"

"Why do you bother, indeed." Still did the blond man hang off the bars as he smirked suavely as he continued, "every time we do this, I'm always chased by you, apprehended by you, and watched by you."

"Glad you noticed," Leon muttered in bitter sarcasm.

"Do you enjoy staring at my ass that much?"

"No."

"Don't deny it - you love chasing me through the streets and watching my rear end bounce with the momentum."

"It's my job." The pitiful protest only fueled the heckling further; Cloud's own brows were dancing like a pair of cheerleaders as he seized that opening.

"You get paid to do it, too? That must be nice."

"Shut up, sit down, and put the towel back on."

There it was: the fallback line; just like that, Leon had once again lost the argument. With a dry chortle, Cloud at last removed himself from the bars, found the piece of chalk that had been left in a corner, and swiftly added another stroke to the series of markings on the old wall.

"That's twenty for me, and five for you," he informed casually. "You're really bad at this, officer."

"You're depraved."

"What else is new?"

"Tifa wants your head," said officer informed suddenly, at last finding some form of leverage to his situation. "And she intends to put it on a stick and march with it down the town square."

To his credit, Cloud winced at the thought of the furious lady's wrath. "Is she that upset about Marlene?"

"More about Denzel, actually."

"Him too?" There was a pause, punctuated by a single low whistle. "Man, I'm good..."

"Do you know you're incorrigible?" Leon growled irritably, once again to little effect as the retort pranced right back in his face.

"It's your fault as much as mine, you know."

The officer sputtered. "What do you mean, it's my fault?! You flashed them!"

"And you were supposed to catch me before I could traumatize the little ones and the poor old dear who teaches them arithmetic."

That was low. Very low. Right below the belt, and he could only be angry now because it was true. With the brunet defeated once more, Cloud latched onto the bars again, stuck his arm out and waggled a finger as a soft tsking echoed in the air.

"Shame on you, officer," he heckled. "The children of the world count on you to keep them safe, and you can't even protect their innocence."

"You're the one who decided to run pass the elementary school in the first place!" Leon snapped back. His composure was lost and sundered to pieces, as per unofficial routine; also following that routine, the blond detainee feigned indigence as he protested again.

"Hey, don't shove it all on me - I didn't tell little Vivi to turn his ass around and shut his gee-oh-dee-amned eyes."

"Of course you didn't."

"Of course not," was the reply. "That was the crossing guard."

"Cid's old; he forgets. Besides, children are better with what they see, not hear."

"And there goes the justice." His statement uttered in self-suffering, Cloud dramatically sighed as he leaned against the dirty wall, his forehead pressed to his knuckles - a cliched theatrical accompaniment to his following words: "In defiance against this corrupt society shalt I run alone...!"

"And naked," Leon morosely pointed out.

"And naked," he agreed in mock melancholy. There was a pause, and he added in a hush, "...want to join me some time?"

There was a loud bang as a hand hit the desk sharply, and Leon was baring his teeth in an bestial snarl for a fleeting moment. Then came the words:

"How many times do I have to tell you: NO!"

"Come on - you see me naked once a week," the caged blond incited, his expression outright taunting. "When do I get to see your wonderfully toned physique?"

"Let's try never."

"Your cruel rejection stabs me so, and it hurts."

The conversation fell flat and died at a sudden rapping on the door. Caught off guard, the policeman needed a moment to collect himself before he sent a pointed glare right at the detainee...who only laughed once before backing away to recover some level of decency.

The towel found its way back around his waist just as that door swung open to admit two men - one was a corporal that had been watching the entrance, and the other was a familiar civilian, grinning from ear to ear. With a salute, the corporal hastened to leave, and the remaining civilian homed in on Cloud's feet at once.

"...didn't I just buy those last Wednesday?" he quipped, and Cloud looked down as well with a grin on his face.

"Broke them in for you."

"How do they take the corners?"

"To a T."

"I knew I picked a good brand...!"

Leon cleared his throat loudly, commandeering the visitor's attention at once as he rose from his seat. The latter had his usual winning smile as he tapped his fingers to his temple in mock salute.

"Evening, Officer Leonhart."

"Demyx," the greeting was replied with a reflexive curt one, and Leon gestured back at Cloud as he spoke. "Are you here to bail him out?"

"Well, that was the plan," the man replied carefully, his grin a little less relaxed as he scratched the back of his neck. "I take it's a little more expensive this time?"

"Did you watch the news?"

"Yep."

"Then you know it's a lot more expensive this time."

"You have to admit, though," the man with the faux Mohawk amused aloud. "The Queen was rather amused."

"More like, rolling the lawn and helpless with laughter," came the offhand remark from behind them, earning a poisonous glare from the unimpressed officer. Still, Demyx coughed nervously, and held out a hand in an appeasing move.

"Look, you know I'm no good with this money thing-"

"I've already cut you slack on all your previous fees," Leon interrupted tersely. "Each time, I warned you about letting him do this, as well, and look where we are."

The other hand came up, and both were held in a pacifying gesture of surrender. "Yes, yes, I know...but just one more time? ...please?"

Now seated in the detainment cell, Cloud was reclining against the wall as he whistled to a tune that sounded like it had been butchered out of "Twenty Drunken Men On a Shaky Beam", and "It Wasn't Me, Mother". Leon paused to watch him for a moment, and their eyes met. Blue with a tint of green on one end, and blue with a tint of gray at the other.

Then Cloud raised a clenched fist, picked a choice finger and waggled it at him in open invitation.

With a weary sigh, Leon turned back to the clueless visitor and spoke again. "Alright, but this is the last time. And I'll be expecting a lot of collateral by Tuesday, or the matter goes straight to Zack and Aerith's jurisdiction."

There was a hesitant rush of air, and Demyx looked away momentarily. "You're a hard guy to please, you know..."

"And we're not supposed to be doing this in the first place."

"How about if I just collect the full amount, and leave him here a little longer-"

"Demyx," Leon uttered in a dangerous tone. "You remove this nutcase from my sight right now, before I go clinically psychotic and murder all thirteen members of your family - including you - with Marluxia's pumps attached to Xemnas' four iron."

"Yes, sir."

It was only then that Leon approached the metal bars and released the one they held. Cloud had come forward again as well, and lowered his head to watch the brunet unlock the cell door. With a final click, the keys left the hole.

"So..." the blond man began as the barred door swung upon noisily, "...same time next week?"

"Go the hell away," was the disgruntled reply, and Cloud chuckled as he caught sight of the middle finger that was blatantly sent at him.

"It's a date, then."

In a moment, the door opened and closed a second time, leaving Officer Leonhart alone in the room with but the empty cell for company. As he moved to have the door locked again, he found himself staring at the discarded towel on the bench.

As a loud shriek of alarm echoed from somewhere on the premises, two fingers found the bridge of his nose and pinched firmly as he felt his weekly migraine take effect.

"... I need to retire," he decided quietly.

The abandoned towel gave no further comment.