Chapter eight, section three, paragraphs seven through fourteen of the Balamb Garden student handbook, known to most dorm residents as "the part that only kiss-asses adhere to," explained that fraternization among students of a romantic variety was not to be tolerated. No hand holding, groping, kissing, or sexual activities would be allowed on school grounds. Balamb Garden was a military academy, not a social club.

And so as a student Quistis Trepe had moved to the next aisle, tsking in annoyance when she found a couple making out in the library stacks. As an instructor she knew what the "secret area" was, who regularly visited, and what sorts of activities went on there. She was being mature, she always told herself. She was following the rules. You couldn't go to the battlefield if you were preoccupied with some boy who'd broken your heart or kissed your best friend.

She let admirers come and go, instead charging at monsters and her work as an instructor with zeal and with chapter eight, section three, paragraphs seven through fourteen as fresh in her mind as the day she'd accessed it on the computer in her dorm room.

So when she finally fell and fell hard, she pulled up the student handbook that defined her teenage years. The guidebook that protected her from hickeys and broken hearts and getting caught after hours. She read it thoroughly, every word in every paragraph, trying to steel herself against a needless entanglement.

But the handbook fell short. It applied only to fraternization between students of Balamb Garden. Useless in this instance.

Quistis instead turned to the SeeD handbook, an even more exhaustive tome of do's and mostly don'ts. It was there, right there, she thought gleefully. "SeeD members in the field may not enter a personal, physical relationship of any kind with a client." Her new rule, laid out and ready for her to follow to the letter.

But then there was her own commander, who most certainly had entered a personal, physical relationship with a client. But that was Squall and that was Rinoa, Quistis argued with herself. That was different. She read the handbook again and again, "may not enter," it said, "may not enter."

Quistis Trepe had been mature her whole life. She'd followed the rules her whole life. She couldn't be a SeeD if she was preoccupied with a man who'd stolen her heart.

Or could she?

--

The dinner had been remarkably subdued, a catered-in affair in his office. The lights were dimmed inside, affording a spectacular view of Esthar all around them. There'd been wine, conversation, half a dozen bizarre tangents (on his part, of course) about this or that diplomatic summit meeting coming down the pike.

"I've been trying to get you to eat dinner with me for a whole year!" Laguna said as they stood at the window, admiring the city lights. "What finally changed your mind?"

Quistis said nothing, only offering up an enigmatic smile.

Laguna Loire whined to his advisors whenever he left a meeting that didn't go his way. He regularly made Quistis, his personal bodyguard, escort him out late at night so he could scarf down Esthar's best attempt at some greasy pizza. He preferred to take notes on paper, if only so he could doodle smily faces on them, something the handhelds didn't much allow for.

He was a grown man, twice her age, and one of the most immature people she'd ever encountered. And yet Esthar loved him. Work that might have been gridlocked in any other government was pushed through with Laguna's smile and determination. So what if he liked to propose installing a water slide in the palace when he was tipsy? So what if he still pulled pranks on Kiros and Ward?

Laguna didn't live by any sort of rule book. And he seemed to be doing just fine. He was impulsive and kind and when he stood there, hands in his pockets looking out at his capital, she saw devotion in his eyes. Duty.

She stepped closer, deciding to finally bridge the distance. He could teach her, show her more than a SeeD or Garden handbook ever could. He grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they looked out at the city together. She could feel his leg trembling a bit, maybe about to cramp up in nervousness but he held her firmly.

"Can we have dinner again?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can we go for a drive together? Where I don't have to sit in the back like the president but in front with you?"

She smiled. "Yes."

He hesitated before finally blurting out "Can I kiss you?"

"That would be in violation of the SeeD code of conduct," she reminded him.

"That wasn't a yes or a no," he pointed out. He turned so he was facing her, pushing a stray lock of hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "So which is it, really?"

Damn the rules and damn "maturity," she decided before taking his face in her hands and bringing their lips together.