Hello everyone! Of course I do not own any of the characters or settings below. I'd really appreciate if you'd review after the read. I have an insane passion for writing, and would love your thoughts on my style / what I can improve. Also let me know if you think I should continue my story.

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"Come on Angeal…"

Brilliant eyes narrowed accusingly at the dull device between his fingers, daring it not to ring in the next three seconds. A sniff of frustration escaped the young man as he grudgingly pocketed the cell phone. His mentor was never late to their private sparring lessons. Tardy…something Zack thought he'd never associate with his new life. Five minutes early was the expectation, and the all too eager puppy didn't need to be told twice.

Nearly flinching as a chill ran up his spine, Zack spun around as though he'd been stung. "S-shit!" Taking in olive skin, beautiful brown eyes, and dark hair had the soldier doing a double-take. "Tseng?" Except it wasn't, really. There was no suit and tie – no perfectly pulled back hair that was the trademark of the Turk Commander. Instead he observed the exotic man in only a thin white shirt and black sweatpants. Zack immediately told himself the unnatural situation demanded he stare just a little.

A knowing smile formed on the Commander's lips, but his nod was businesslike. "Angeal has been held up on a mission. I will be in charge of your training for the next few days."

The younger man suppressed his disappointment with genuine curiosity at the prospect. Soldier and Turk…their training regiments were completely different. Actually, he'd had no idea exactly what the Turks did for training. Strong fingers gripped the hilt of his practice sword as he thought about just what he might have to do to keep up with Tseng.

"You won't be using that," Before he could even blink, Tseng ripped the blade from his hands and sent it clattering across the hard floor.

"Are you kidding?"

Zack was all too easy to read, trying his best to glare at Tseng as he tried to figure out the situation. The amusement was apparent as Tseng shook his head.

"I'm not trying to make a fool out of you. Angeal said you'd benefit from some hand-to-hand."

The hairs on the back of Zack's neck seemed to stand on end as he cursed Angeal. They'd never done anything like this! Angeal was constantly harping on his unfocused swordsmanship as it was…there was never time for any of this.

He frowned, realizing Tseng was already in battle-mode. "Don't you want to…show me some pointers?" Sure, he'd brawled before but it wouldn't be anything that helped him deal with someone so skilled.

"Angeal says you have good instincts. A sword is an extension of your arm. Just concentrate."

'Good instincts…' A surge of pride rushed through him. Angeal was…always expecting the best from him. He imagined Angeal and Tseng speaking privately about him like he was someone of importance. He wanted to be, for sure. A small part of him whispered that he merely wanted to be important to Angeal, but he bit it back before it could blossom.

Lost in his thoughts, Zack barely registered the sharp pain in his chest as he was sent sprawling backwards.

"Focus." Tseng ignored Zack's outrage as the kid picked himself off of the floor.

Practically growling in embarrassment, the 2nd Class launched himself at his partner, practically awed the figure before him ducked his blow and kicked him to the side. The flood felt even more solid the second time his back hit it.

"We're not wrestling, Fair. We're sparring." Again, Zack had to shrug off the strangely condescending air that rolled off the man in waves.

Now taking the moment to compose himself, Zack studied Tseng's movements. He'd never noticed before, but Tseng was so slender, but the lean muscle packed into his arms was not just for show. Each time Zack shifted, Tseng would respond in turn. It was the subtlest movement that he was sure could only be seen by someone with enhanced sight.

The next time he moved, Tseng's eyes visibly narrowed. Managing to evade an obvious blow to the side, the Turk narrowly slide under a kick. Grabbing Zack's arm on the next punch, the Commander sent him sprawling again.

Bouncing to his feet, Zack's grin of triumph was almost infectious. The Wutaian was no longer regarding him with barely contained contempt. Brown eyes burned dangerously under dark brows. This time, Tseng lunged first and Zack was ready.

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Tseng's eyes widened as Zack's fist connected solidly with his shoulder, sending him skidding backwards a few steps.

For the first time in what felt like hours, both men stood completely still – each experiencing some level of shock. Brushing off his itching shoulder, Tseng regarded the young man with barely concealed wonder. At least, that's what it felt like. Zack merely saw the impassive stare of a man who may or may not have been planning his demise.

As Zack stood desperately trying to catch his breath, Tseng fought for something to say.

'You're supposed to say something about the lesson. Encourage him.' Millions of miles away, and Angeal was whispering in his ear, lecturing him.

"Angeal was right about you," That wasn't enough. As the boy brought his arms down he could see the curiosity creeping into those pretty blue eyes. Pretty? "Not many have managed to touch me, especially not on their first lesson. I'm almost tempted to steal you away from your instructor."

Following his words a slow flush dusted across the pupil's cheeks. "I mean it. You would make a fine Turk if you were mine." Tseng's voice darkened in color as he rested a hand on Zack's shoulder, keenly aware of how the boy flinched as their warm skin connected.

As Zack fumbled for words, Tseng chuckled to himself. 'Do you really think he's innocent, Angeal?'

The Turk Commander certainly couldn't be considered innocent, and very rarely confused. Taking in Zack's sweat soaked armor and still-forming muscles, the Wutaian understood that he was treading on eggshells. The boy's raw power and natural talent would have been enough to draw Tseng in, but as his baby blue eyes searched his for a dismissal, the urge to put him on the floor again was…dizzying.

Their spar alone had Tseng's blood boiling. He could still feel soft skin under his fingertips each time he'd forced Zack into a different style of attack. He could picture the way Zack had pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrated. Anything to keep him focused. It was all he could do not to imagine the look on the teen's face as he bit that sucked on that lip to keep from moaning as the Turk's rough hands worked his bare skin.

"Sir?"

Tseng's heart jumped ever so slightly. Moments of inner turmoil had him locking his gaze on Zack, pinning him under a heated stare. Brown eyes were searching his features – anything that might give the Turk an explanation as to what spurred these images.

'Zack has a way of getting past people's barriers.' He'd heard that before…

Reviewing the past hours in a way only a Turk could, Tseng recalled the kid's actions. He dug past the fierce feeling of combat and looked into the country boy. Smiling after ever failed tactic, laughing after being overtaken, getting up again and again. He didn't even complain. When he shook his head it would have been undetectable. 'That doesn't make sense…'

"Tseng?" Zack was fidgeting noticeably now.

"Get out." Tseng's voice was heavy and unfamiliar and it was all Zack could do to remember to retrieve his practice blade before scurrying into the empty hall.

Zack's raven hair bounced with the force of his rushed footsteps, chewing over the end of the encounter. He worked side by side with Angeal nearly every day he'd spent out of basic training. Angeal was like a father. His hands guided his movements with every confidence in the world. He felt safe there.

Heat rose to his face as he realized he absolutely did not feel safe with Tseng. He contemplated their closeness…replacing a warm and caring mentor with someone unreadable and unpredictable in every way. It was even more terrifying to admit that he liked it. It definitely felt like a betrayal.

It was all he could do to walk to his room and not imagine how Tseng's eyes had been so dark they were almost black. Very hard to imagine he hadn't seen the man's pants tent before his very eyes. Excruciating… because as soon as his door closed behind him, sore fingers trailed down to ease the growing discomfort in his underneath his uniform.

Meanwhile Tseng glared stubbornly at the vibrating device in his hands.

"Angeal." Almost sighing into his phone, he quickly gathered his things.

'How did it go? I trust you left the Puppy in one piece?'

Puppy. Tseng couldn't tell whether he hated the nickname or not. "Of course. He…learned a lot today. I will be happy to step in while you are gone."

Angeal's expressed thanks almost made him nauseous. Hanging up, the Turk regretfully backtracked. Oftentimes he would find himself excited by battle and bloodshed. Sweating and panting. It was his own style of dance that he'd come to accept.

But this was personal.

This was Zack. His movements, his body, his eyes…he was so damned expressive. Closing his eyes he could see the Puppy's triumphant grin as he had finally managed to land a blow. His groin twitched.

The dull thud of his fist connecting with the wall wasn't enough to satisfy him. Gritting his teeth, Tseng was glad no one dared come in these rooms unscheduled. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefingers, the normally composed man was capable of only one clear thought.

How had this happened?