Title: Camping Trip
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII/Kingdom Hearts
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit gained. This is a fanwork.
Characters/Pairings: Squall, Xaldin
Summary: Squall, Xaldin, and their SeeD trainees go camping.
Notes: AU, From the Pick-a-Number Meme.
Squall glanced around at the nervous trainee-SeeDs, wondering if they really had spent too much of their lives safe within Garden's walls. They weren't even that far from Balamb, after all, and the woods were neither deep nor dark.
The sky, on the other hand, was a perilous shade of grey.
At least, Squall though, his tent was up. The tents weren't even difficult - his had been up in less than five minutes and that was without the help of the other male instructor who was leading the entire expedition.
"Fifteen minutes," Xaldin commented, nearly on cue. "Or you all get wet."
The trainees looked even more nervous. A few of them tried a little harder to get the poles through the flaps on the tents.
"I'm sure the girls have their tents up," Squall added. They did. He knew that. He'd already checked on Quistis and Xu, to double-check they had enough firewood for the night. Instead of sitting slack-jawed as Xaldin made everything they needed for the evening (save tents and food) with a few small flicks of a very big knife, they'd actually done a bit of work.
"No," Xaldin replied, looking away from the tarps he'd been securing over their firewood. "We need to help them. Unless you want ten boys in our tent."
Squall frowned. Somehow he hadn't quite done the math on just how many tents there were versus how many SeeD candidates were along with them. "That's the last thing I want."
"You also need to check the weather before survival training weekends," Xaldin noted. Squall rolled his eyes - the entire thing had been planned three months beforehand. There wasn't any way he could have known.
Besides, it wasn't cold and he was fairly sure the storm would be quick.
"Let's just get these tents up," Squall said as he headed over to help a pair of boys get theirs right-side out.
They all dove into their tents the second the rain started. While Squall sat listening to petty squabbles in the next tent over space, Xaldin started sharpening one of his plentiful knives.
"Must you?" Squall asked after three minutes of listening to the already-perfect blade running along the sharpening stone.
"Storm won't last more than a few more minutes," Xaldin noted. "Wind is right to blow it along."
"Cards?" Squall suggested. He had his Triple Triad deck with him.
"One hand," Xaldin agreed with a smirk. "My rules."
"Everyone has their own rules," Squall said as he fished in his pocket for his cards. "No problem."
"Loser has to give a handjob to the winner," Xaldin explained as he produced his own well-worn deck.
Squall swallowed and gave his cards a quick shuffle. Interesting rules, but appropriate for the situation. Certainly that'd kill time.
He just didn't know whether he wanted to win or lose.
Drink Lemonade! Tip Your Waitress!