Wow, so it took me like, 2 hours to finish typing up my reference document for this story. If any of you are looking to write a story in the future, resort to every possible plot bunny you can before taking the last-ditch, omnipresent "High School AU" bunny, because to write a successful story you have to plan out the schedules, and let me tell you...that is HELL.

Maybe this is your classic HS AU story, unoriginal as it may be, but at least I'm not doing that whole, "Squall is a recluse" type thing...well, not completely. Rinoa will actually be totally awesome in this story until many chapters later, when---ok, I'll shut up now.

Disclaimer: I do not claim the pwnage of any of these charats right here, but I do tell you that this plot bunny here, (holds up the bunny) is mine, and mine alone! His name is Miguelito! Say hello to the nice readers! And remember their faces, because if you're ever stolen by any of them, I want you to bite them real hard:D I never said my plot bunny isn't rabid!

The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.

-Robert Heinlein

Dancing in Drag

Chapter 1 : So He Can Dance

Quistis had heard about people like him. The rare type of person whose legs carried him so naturally that he seemed more fluid than water, more graceful than a swan, and more mysterious than the faint glow on the full moon. Like water in a glass, he swayed from one side to another, dipping down and twirling up, but so aware of himself that he never seemed to come splashing to the ground. It was...

"Beautiful," the blonde woman breathed quietly. It wasn't in her duty or personality to hand out praise as if anyone deserved it, but he certainly did. He didn't stop then, he hadn't heard her. He continued on as if in a trance, and Quistis certainly couldn't object.

Delicate, silken strands of deep brown hair rose and fell rhythmically on his head, fluttering and bobbing like feathers. Black pants stretched to accommodate his movements, shadows from bright studio lights dancing whimsically along every line and fold. His wrists bent and turned, legs carrying him like the elegant movement of royalty. And on the rare moment that he would lift his eyelids from their resting place on the height of his cheek, lashes reflected on the light, small, pouting lips would part to draw a breath and bring him back from ethereality for a split-second and his eyes could be seen for that small increment of time.

Quistis was caught by those eyes and drawn in. The dim blue color shone with a happiness and intensity she was sure had not been there minutes before, and dancing in his irises were specks of silver, sparkling like fairy dust.

Before she could realize what happened, the slow, peaceful music had ended and the boy halted, coming back to reality with such an abrupt difference that it looked to her like an angel fallen from his heavenly dance in the clouds. He suddenly seemed distracted, and his emotions were more complicated than right before. Yes, she had heard about people like him. People who turned into something else when dancing, as if they were merged with a god. It was absolutely fascinating.

"Um."

Quistis blinked out of her thoughts and was forced to stare into those silver-speckled eyes again. It was then she noticed an imperfection, a large, line scar down his forehead and in between his eyes. She wondered briefly how he got it, and then thanked whatever higher forces that were out there that whatever inflicted such a long wound on him hadn't hit his eyes and blinded him. Quistis already was captured by those eyes.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" She asked. He looked away and scratched the base of his neck, at his collarbone.

"Did I get in?" He asked quietly. She blinked and then an amused smiled touched her lips.

"Goodness," she laughed quickly, "I completely forgot about that."

He only looked uncomfortable. Did that mean he didn't get in? He quickly ran over his performance in his mind, anxiously combing for anything he might have done incorrectly. But in all honesty, he didn't remember much of it. He never remembered much after he danced; it was always sort of subconscious and in-the-moment.

"No need to feel nervous," she told him with a whimsical smile, "I think you definitely deserve a place in the advanced class."

His eyes rose up and locked against hers in surprise, hers a purer blue than his own. That was it? He was in?

"I..." His delicate eyebrows fell down from their high place on his forehead and he smiled meekly, tiny enough to be missed if one wasn't looking hard. "Thank you."

Quistis only nodded. "I'll let the registry office know about your schedule, then," she told him. "And..." She hesitated.

He blinked at her.

'He's not one of many words,' she mused.

"Don't get yourself in any sticky situations, but if you do, I'm always here. If any of the girls give you a hard time about your clothes, you don't need to make up any stories. I can talk to them."

A faint blush tinted the angel-eyed brunette's cheeks and he looked to the side, frowning slightly.

"Okay."

She smiled.

"I'll be pleased to see you here in class tomorrow." She gave him a dismissing glance, and he nodded back and turned away, picking up his car keys and pulling a dark blue hooded sweater over his white t-shirt. He pulled his feet into short black boots as he got off the dance floor, and turned the doorknob on the studio's exit.

"Oh!"

He turned and glanced at her. She ran over to him, tucking a blond tuft of well-kept hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, I never got your name," She explained.

He pushed the door further open and sunlight splashed into the room. He turned to give her one last look, before tossing his head back to face the outdoors.

"...Squall."

And before she could inquire as to his full name, he was gone, the door closed almost in her face. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. He certainly was going to be hard to get to warm up, or at least get to be more gregarious. He didn't seem selfish, just...hardened.

But he should have at least considered giving her his full name! How was she going to ask registry to move him to advanced dance without knowing his last name? She sighed again and turned back to lock up the studio.

Squall.

"Well," she told herself, "at least it's a pretty unique name. I just hope registry doesn't tell me there are two 'Squall's in this school..."

-o-0-o-0-o-

"Done! Come in and check it out, Squally!"

Sunday evening, an evening to beat all evenings, had arrived, and Squall was getting nervous and antsy already. This was his fourth school in the past three years, having transferred from Deling to Timber, from Timber to Trabia, from Trabia to Esthar, and finally, from Esthar to his new school, Balamb. He had been transferred out for the same reason: bullying. Mean, vicious, snarling pug-faced bullies, and giggling girls alike, He was teased him for his passion, his one place to find peace: dancing. That and his delicate build and feminine appearance, one that screamed "GAY" even though he wasn't. Transfers, of course, he had gotten used to, and the same for being the new kid, but this transfer to Balamb was certainly something much bigger than any of the last ones. Hopefully, if this new plan worked, he wouldn't be teased anymore, and he wouldn't be the core of all his family's problems again. He gave a wistful look to his step-sister, Rinoa, who had stayed by his side through all the transfers and agreed to try and make new friends every time just so he could get another chance at safety. He nodded, taking a deep breath and stepping into his room, expecting the worst.

"..."

"Well, Squally? Not bad, huh? Squall...?" Rinoa blinked curiously up at her brother, and saw that he speechless. Even more so than usual. She gave him a concerned stare.

"Hey, you alive in there? Tell me what you think."

"Rinoa..." he blinked and gave her a look that openly expressed his awkward feelings to her. She sighed.

"I know it's going to be hard for you," she explained, "but you're going to have to bite the bullet and just get used to it. Sure, it's going to suck at first, but once you get used to it, you'll be so happy. I swear! Never another bully again."

He gave her an incredulous stare. She stiffened her lips and wore a look that said, "get on with it." The brunette sighed and glanced away. He had had enough of being the weak one in the family. If he couldn't fight back, then this was his only choice. He was going to do it for his mom, and for Rinoa.

Walking slowly up to his closet, Squall frowned hard, and just stared at the piles of unfamiliar clothes, feeling his heart get heavy as he realized none of his old clothes were here, probably for just in case he changed his mind about this whole idea.

'No turning back now,' he told himself. Reluctantly, he slid a hand into a compartment of his closet and felt a soft, gel-like material. He pulled it out.

"..."

Rinoa bit her lip to keep from breaking down in fits of laughter. Her smile stretched across her face and she turned her gaze downward so her brother wouldn't see and get mad. The dark-haired girl stepped closer to him and took it from him, stealing a glance at the hilarious expression on his face.

"This," she said, "is your new best friend: the padded bra. Don't worry, the sales clerk told me it's really comfy." She couldn't suppress the giggle that followed, and received the most feral glare she had ever seen in her life.

"Are you nuts!" He barked, immediately regretting it as his throat constricted painfully from not raising his voice for a long time. All summer long he had been going to voice training sessions, and though they deemed it impossible to raise his voice's pitch by very much, they had at least succeeded in making it a soft and mellow, albeit slightly low sound. Besides, it wasn't as if his voice was very deep to begin with.

"Oh no, bro," she said seriously, "I'm not nuts. Nor am I joking. This is what you have to do."

Squall gritted his teeth and forced himself not to let his turbulent emotions explode in his chest. He was going to go through with this.

For Mom and Rinoa...For Mom and Rinoa...For Mom and Rinoa...

"...Fine." He growled, looking away from his grinning step-sister.

He reluctantly tugged his white t-shirt off and dropped his arms, letting her pull on the dreadful item. He wriggled his shoulders uncomfortably. Rinoa stepped back and admired her work, nodding in approval.

"Looks like I got the perfect size for you! Here, it's padded, but you're going to need a little more support if you don't want to look really messed up."

She pounced forward and proceeded to stuff the garment with something strange and unrecognizable. Squall squirmed away from her, turning his back.

"Rinoa," he breathed as he crouched down, his back to the dark-haired girl and a deep frown on his reddened face, "this is humiliating."

"Pffeh! Come on, Squall, be a man!"

"It's kind of hard to do that when I'm wearing a bra!" He growled, and Rinoa pouted.

"No more fussing! We've got a lot more than a bra to deal with right now, and you're not going to complain!" She crouched over him and pulled him to his feet.

He frowned and gave her a look that said, "I'll let you humiliate me but that doesn't mean I have to like it." She smirked smugly, ignoring the look and reaching to pull off his black drawstring pants. He flailed.

"Rinoa!"

"What?" She looked up at him with a light frown.

"G-Girls aren't supposed to see their brothers half naked!" He growled, holding his pants up.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" she smiled coyly. "It's just us girls here."

Holy shit.

This was definitely, indisputably, the worst mistake Squall had ever made in his life.

-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-

Onwards! The next chapter should already be up.