Secret Santa
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Yzak was too much of a soldier to sit back and let his bodyguards take care of him. Everything in the council building had been calm, quiet but busy, the workers unaware of the chaos brewing to start.
The silence was shattered with a gunshot, with the all too familiar declaration of "for a blue and pure world". There were more gunshots which quickly turned into a scuffle, every guard and armed man in the vicinity rushing down to stop it. It was a group of seven against all of them, and despite the obviousness of being taken down once enough came to counter, the ones who lived and were pulled off to police cars looked happy enough that they caused at least one casualty.
There were about five casualties altogether, on their end. One dead and the other four injured, though Councilman Yzak Jule would have argued that he shouldn't be considered a casualty.
So stubborn. Dearka shook his head as he sat on the edge of the bed that Yzak was reluctantly forced onto. While he himself obtained a not-so-glorious black eye and a cut to the arm from the ordeal, Yzak was left with a shot to the leg, and an odd number of cuts and bruises.
"You'd think the actual
guards would have made it to the group first, rather than you," Dearka said.
"Shut up. I knew what I was doing, I wasn't going to sit back or run away screaming like those other stuffy, cowardice council members did." Yzak crossed his arms.
"All the same, running in like that isn't something ordinary for somebody in your position to do." Dearka was aware his arguing was pointless, and he was fighting a losing battle with retaliation. But this was something he was quite used to around Yzak.
"I don't care," Yzak snapped again, turning his nose up. A signal, usually to Dearka, that no more words would get through to him.
Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. He smiled.
"Right. Just stay there and rest then, so I don't have to slave over your ass for longer than I have to." Dearka stood, and Yzak silently watched him leave the room.
While Yzak sometimes acted like a spoiled child, he was for the most part, fairly mature. This was one of those times where his maturity seemed to mysteriously fly out the window.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dearka stood in the doorway, staring across the room toward Yzak's bed. The silver-haired boy was standing a few paces away from it, keeping his weight on his good leg.
"I was going to get changed."
"You could have asked me to help you then."
"
I'm not letting you dress me, Dearka."
"I didn't say I wanted to!" a slight blush at the thought, "But I can get your things for y-"
"I'm perfectly capable."
"You are not."
There was a moment of opposing glares, and almost in unison, the two moved. Yzak to try and race it across the room, Dearka to shove him back onto the bed. This ended in Yzak losing his balance and almost knocking Dearka over in the process. The blond kept his footing and caught Yzak by the shoulders.
"Bed."
A silent glare, albeit an obviously defeated one.
Unable to repress a smirk, Dearka helped the other back to his bed, letting him sit down before moving across the room to gather his things for him. Sneaking a glance to Yzak, Dearka noted his shoulders slump; he looked more worn than he was letting on. And knew fairly well that he would never admit to it.
"Here," he said, tossing the set of clothes onto the bed next to Yzak. There was a moment of silence, Yzak looking up to Dearka before the blond smiled despite himself. "are you sure you don't want me to dre-"
"
GET OUT." Red in the face, Yzak grit his teeth and pointed a finger toward the door. Dearka snickered to himself as he obeyed the order, leaving Yzak in the much wanted silence of the room.
Tracing a finger over his face to ghost the mark that used to be there, Yzak thought that this situation was somewhat like when he first obtained that injury from Strike. Hurt and vulnerable, hiding it through anger and preferring to be alone. Though much like last time, he didn't actually enjoy being alone. He preferred Dearka being nearby, and though he thought he did a good job in making it seem as if he didn't, he was unable to realize he could be read like a book.
After getting changed, Yzak turned over in his bed with some difficulty from his leg.
"Here," a voice spoke gently, stirring Yzak from his half-sleep. He turned over to see Dearka sitting on the edge of his bed again, a tray on his lap.
"... you cooked?"
"I made
soup."
"..."
"It's all I know how to make, so deal." Yzak sat up, and Dearka moved the tray over in his direction, adding, "it's good for you anyway."
"How thoughtful," Yzak said blandly.
"How sarcastic," came Dearka's reply as he rolled his eyes. He stayed sitting in silence as Yzak drank down the soup, fingers idly drumming on the side of the bed. "Feeling any better?"
"I'm just fine."
"You look tired." He saw Yzak's mouth open to protest this, and quickly put a hand on his arm, causing him to shut it. "Look, I know you don't want to be waited on since you're a stubborn little brat-"
"I am
not-"
"
But, I'm worried about you. You didn't want to rest way back when you were injured by Strike, either. And that wasn't good for you."
Yzak said nothing, and Dearka reached a hand over to rest it on the side of his face. "So rest, yeah?"
With a small 'hmph', Yzak fell back onto the bed, but at least he was listening. Smirking, Dearka leaned over him, eyes dancing with sarcasm. "Thaaaank you."
"Oh, shut up." Despite the snap, he reached his arms up to coil around Dearka's neck, as the blond leaned down to lightly kiss his lips.
For somebody who was hurt, Dearka noted, Yzak was surely strong enough to pull him down next to him. Turning onto his side, Dearka propped himself up on an arm, free hand first touching silver hair before moving around Yzak's shoulders to pull him in closer.
He was given no words or actions of resistance, and the silence never broke, save for the steady breathing that seemed so much closer once Yzak had fallen asleep.
For a peaceful moment, Dearka basked in the fact that his partner had cooled down and finally took his advice to rest. And as if a stray kick in his sleep from Yzak posed as irony once the thought had passed, Dearka remembered that it had only been two days.
