Omake 1 – "Fitting Room" This happens sometime during the events of Chapter 3: Flitting Around

Although it didn't have much, the Garden Clothier was the only place Squall could bring Zidane for replacement clothing. The blond carried the ripped remains of his vest and shirt, wearing one of Squall's own t-shirts in the meantime and looking incredibly adorable, according to passing women of course. It was far too big for him, the collar nearly falling off his shoulders; Squall didn't understand why he couldn't help but look.

The Garden seamstress had been called prior to their visit with details of what they wanted and not to freak out over the fact Zidane had a tail. She still couldn't resist touching it, and Zidane was thankful it wasn't a grab and yank. Squall briskly told her to get on with her job (Was that a hint of jealousy? Zidane was probably hearing things but…) and she quickly measured Zidane's neck, waist, arm and leg length. With that she went off to the back of the store, leaving the two to meander around.

Since they came to buy him clothes, Zidane went to the nearest rack and began to browse. Although the section he started in was far too big, he safely assumed she could tailor it to his size, but nothing really caught his eyes. Everything was drab, boring, nothing like his usual carefree attire.

"This is all this place has?" Zidane asked after shoving aside the twentieth dark blue shirt. He found a little section of vests similar in shape to his, but were either too thick or made of scratchy material. And all the same crappy colors.

"Most students bring their own clothes from home," Squall replied, also flipping through the items in boredom. "Most the seamstress really does is tailor SeeD and cadet Garden uniforms. This crap is just for those who forgot to do laundry."

Zidane found himself in the bottoms section, looking through pairs of pants and shorts. All were made of the same slightly thick, dark blue material similar to his own pants, although there was something foreign to them. His were made of cured leather, but what the heck was this stuff?

"Jeans," Squall supplied, noticing Zidane's confused look as he fingered a pants leg. "Made of denim."

"That a type of special cloth?" Zidane asked.

"Basically. You want a pair or two?"

Probably couldn't hurt—he had seen others wearing them. Zidane began to search for some that were a little closer to his size, but the farther he got from the bigger pairs, the slimmer the legs of the pants got. He didn't need them slim; he just needed them shorter and a bit…

"That's the girl's section, Zidane."

"What?" Zidane looked up from his search, noticing a pink tag on the rail holding the pants. "There's a difference?"

"Yeah…" Squall seemed a little lost at this point.

"Like what?"

The question made Squall frown, but he couldn't get mad at an innocent inquiry. "The legs are slimmer so the waist and thighs are more… pronounced."

Zidane had noticed some girls wearing these things—jeans, as Squall called them—had rather attractive waist areas. Were these things magical to enhance? Or was it just a way to get pervs like Zidane to look? Then again, it didn't take much to get pervs to look, so…

"Well, the others were too big." Since he didn't have the womanly assets, Zidane saw no reason he couldn't wear these. He pulled a couple off the rail that looked about the right size, and when he looked to Squall, the mercenary had an odd expression on his face. "What?"

"… nothing." He turned to another shirt section. "Let's get you some shirts."

Perplexed by Squall's tone, Zidane nonetheless followed him. Squall plucked a few at random, including a vest Zidane had missed that was made of that denim stuff. Piling it all in Zidane's arms, Squall then led the blond to a room.

"Go try them on," Squall instructed. "Make sure they fit before we buy."

Zidane would have never imagined that door was a fitting room, and when he walked in and shut the door he found very little room to work with. He set the items on the bench, looking them over. Well, the jeans were the same, so he'd only need to try one pair. Probably for the shirts and vest, too…

The shirt was plain and stark white, sort of reminding Zidane of the infirmary walls, and it was a bit oversized but that was alright, it was comfortable and light. Over that he put on the vest, but it was too thick and felt far too heavy, so he discarded the vest and tried on the jeans.

Except they were far too tight with his tail stuck in them. "Squall," Zidane called.

"What?"

"These… jean things, I can't put them on. My tail…"

"Well, do they fit otherwise?"

Hell if he knew. Zidane figured he'd suffer for a few moments and, pushing the jeans down for a moment, wrapped his tail was tightly around his leg as possible before pulling the pants back up. The closing contraption was a little strange, but easy enough to figure out. Once they were on, Zidane frowned—far too tight in the waist area, and there was absolutely no room for his… well, manly bits.

Zidane opened the door to directly speak to Squall. "Yeah, these aren't gonna work."

Squall looked at him, and suddenly his eyes dropped down. Zidane blinked when Squall's cheeks took a slight, barely noticeably redness and he took a step forward to inquire what was wrong. Once he moved, Squall's eyes snapped back up to his face.

"Go… change." Squall muttered, turning away and busying himself with looking somewhere other than Zidane.

Zidane blinked in confusion, but then he glanced down. Now in better light, he realized what may have flustered Squall. The blond smirked, a bit on the proud side, tossing Squall a look before sauntering back into the dressing room.

Zidane swore he felt Squall's eyes on his butt too, and it only made him smirk more. Maybe with a bit of adjusting he could still get the jeans.