Secret Santa
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"Dearka, be serious!"
Dearka snickered as he let his roommate and best friend adjust his uniform, trying his best not to smirk outright. "Yes, mother," he remarked, earning a glare.
"If we didn't have graduation today, I'd kick your ass, you know," Yzak growled, his hands tugging seams into place a bit harder than was necessary. Dearka rolled his eyes. Yzak didn't seem like the kind who would care about details, but Dearka's room had never been cleaner than it had been in the year or so he'd lived with the other boy.
"But we do have graduation, which we'll be late to if you don't stop primping."
That earned him a scowled and nearly a jab in the ribs, which was prevented only by Dearka's foresight. The smirked finally appearing on his face, he tugged the edge of his uniform from Yzak's fingers, smiling at the red fabric that Yzak wore as well. They had been among the best in their class. Yzak had always been better than him, but Dearka didn't really mind being worse than someone else, as long as they were an ally. It was too bad that Yzak didn't feel the same way. The silver-haired boy hated a certain Athrun Zala with a passion. Dearka was amused by his roommate's excessive pride, but at the same time he couldn't help feeling a bit...dare he say jealous, of Athrun? Even though he didn't envy the tongue lashings that Yzak gave Athrun, he did wish that he was the object of so much of the hot tempered boy's attention. But in what sense, he wasn't quite sure. Therein lay the problem.
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Yzak scowled, storming down the halls in his usual manner, an amused Dearka trailing behind him. How dare the blonde accuse him of mothering? He was nothing like his mother! After all, if it had truly been Ezaria Jule, she would've felt the need to do his friend's hair as well as make sure his uniform was straight, since his mother had always hated the other boy's hair. Personally, Yzak didn't mind it, but his mother was a totally different story.
"Yzak, if you don't calm down, you'll look like a storm cloud in all of the pictures."
The silver-haired boy scowled even deeper, shooting Dearka an annoyed glare. Yzak almost always scowled, no matter what the occasion was. Why would it matter for a few lousy pictures? But Dearka met his eyes, the blonde keeping his own gaze steady, until Yzak relented. "Fine," he muttered sullenly, not quite sure why he'd given in. But he ignored that as the buzz of voices reached his ears. Louder was the racket caused by their fellow trainees, and in the background was the low hum from the hundreds of people who wanted to see what their class had to offer to the war. His scowl reappeared instantly as his eyes fell upon a blue-haired recruit whom Yzak hated. Athrun Zala. He was the best pilot in their year, better even than Yzak, which never ceased to anger him. It was a sore spot for the silver-haired boy, seeing how the only thing he really did better than Athrun was lose his temper. Which was just about the last thing Yzak wanted to beat his rival in?
Dearka noticed Athrun immediately, and quickly placed a hand on Yzak's arm, trying to drag him in the opposite direction. But Yzak wasn't going to stand for that. He yanked his arm free, leaving his friend in the dust as he stalked up to the boy in question. "Zala," he stated coldly, trying to keep his temper under control for once.
Athrun nodded respectfully. "Yzak."
It bugged Yzak that the other boy could just stand there without seeming to be bothered by Yzak's attitude. He opened his mouth, his anger growing, but was cut off by Dearka, who, using surprise to his advantage, managed to pull Yzak away from his adversary.
"You'll have plenty of time to antagonize him later," Dearka drawled when they were out of earshot. "We'll all be on the same team, so can you save your bickering until then?"
Yzak scowled again. What sort of stupid question was that? Of course he couldn't give it a rest! Athrun never ceased to kick his ass, so he wasn't about to stop harassing him.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, since Dearka shook his head with a sigh. "I don't know why you can't just focus all of your energy on hating those damn Naturals instead of one of your teammates," he remarked. "But, if only for today, please try not to be an asshole." The blond slung an arm around Yzak who, to his mortification, blushed slightly. It was only a friendly hug, nothing to be embarrassed about. Well, there was that one dirty thought about lips running through his mind, but that was beside the point. There was no reason for him to be embarrassed. None at all. He covered the lapse with yet another scowl, pulling free of the loose embrace.
"Don't touch me!"
Dearka sighed, shrugging. "Fine. You're so touchy."
"I am not touchy!"
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Dearka yawned as he shuffled down the hall. It should have been a sad walk, since he was going back to his dorm room for the last time, but he really couldn't have cared less. He was ready to kick some Natural butt, and if that meant leaving his dorm, then all the better. Besides, the only reason he really liked his dorm at all was because Yzak was in it, and that part of his life was coming with him to active duty. All was good. If he'd been about to lose the other boy, his best friend, he wasn't sure what he would've done. Yzak was important to him, and that was that. He yawned again as he pushed open their door, flicking on the lights.
"Shut those off!" an angry voice commanded roughly.
Dearka blinked. He had known that Yzak had left the post-graduation party early, but he hadn't realized that he had gone to bed. What a party pooper.
A thought crossed the blonde's mind, a smirk coming suddenly to his face. Maybe it was just the alcohol--someone had spiked the drinks, it seemed--but he was feeling a bit reckless. And the mess of silver hair on the other bed was a bit tempting. Not that he'd never thought of his friend in that light before. He had, in fact, but hadn't wanted to ruin their friendship. But it was their last night in the academy. And who would know how long it would be before one of them got killed, or they were separated? Dearka strode over to Yzak's bed, sitting down on it and pushing away his weariness. A hand reached to ruffle the other boy's hair.
It only took a moment for Yzak to flip over, giving Dearka a glare that promised a slow, painful death. "Go. Away."
"I don't know if I want to."
That made Yzak blink as he turned red, opening his mouth to retort. It was too bad that circumstances had cut him off, Dearka mused later. He would've loved to know what the boy's futile protest would have been. Not that those protests had lasted long. He'd made sure of that.
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Happy Holidays. ^__^
~Sara
