Well, the sad part is that I actually came up with the idea and wrote the first chapter in early June. It came about because I was staying in Japan and my host sister was part of the tennis club. Because I don't play tennis and I couldn't interrupt them as they were training too much (they were nice and let me learn a little), I learned instead how to juggle tennis balls. When even that lost it's appeal, I began writing out story ideas in the sand on the court. Thus this story was born... although the locker room here in the story is entirely of my imagination. Please enjoy!

Chapter One: Tennis and Towels

"You know I haven't played tennis since junior high, Elsman." It was a statement, but from the pale youth, it sounded more like an accusation.

"Well, lucky I played last week then," the tanned blond said, smiling, "Perhaps we'll be even then. I'll make it worth your time, Mr. Tennis Champion."

Despite how it was logically a compliment in Yzak's favor, Dearka had used his special way of voicing it to sound like the opposite. Yzak blew out a puff of angry air. Dearka was definitely the same teasing grinning idiot, even though the two had not seen each other for two months.

Dearka took his racket from its protective bag and stepped on to one of the gym's tennis courts. Yzak did the same, grabbing two tennis balls. He shoved one into his shorts pocket.

"You are such a loser," Yzak grumbled before raising his voice to be heard on the other end of the court, "I'm aiming for your face!" His eyes narrowed suddenly, his concentration absolute. He gripped his racket firmly in his right hand, his left twisting the ball until the brand name was readable, then gave it a quick toss. At the apex of the green ball's arc, Yzak took a jumping step forward as he simultaneously swung his racket overhead. He served.

And hit the net.

"Well, looks like you need some work on you aim, sharp shooter," Dearka called out, chuckling.

"Shut up!"

His outburst attracted the attention of the next court, four girls playing doubles. They cast quick glances to the good-looking male duo, made 'mmm-hmmmm' noises to each other and went back to their game, although with less concentration. The two soldiers, however, for all their training in being constantly alert and perceptive, failed to notice. They were busy arguing over the serve.

"I should get the serve, Yzak, you screwed up."

"Everyone is allowed a retry for their first serve!! And I haven't played for six years!!" Yzak was fuming, but he since he had the, well, balls at the start of the game that left Dearka at Yzak's mostly non-existent mercy.

"Just gently toss the ball here so I can—"

Yzak whipped the little green ball from his pocket and tossed it high into the air where it collided resoundingly with his racket. The force of Yzak's blow sent it speeding centimeters over the net, bouncing once, and straight into Dearka's unsuspecting left kneecap. Yzak smirked in triumph as his best friends cried out, clutching the sore joint in shock and more than a little pain.

"I said gently, Yzak!!"

The pale boy just continued to smile as Dearka limped awkwardly over to where the ball had ricocheted from his now-bruising knee back into the net. He stooped to pick up the object of his agony, and straightened to look Yzak directly in the eyes. The silver haired youth blinked, his lips losing their upward lilt in the deadly glare from his best friend.

"That's it, this is war," the blond said seriously. Yzak's cocky smirk widened as Dearka tossed ball back to him.

"It's your serve, Joule."

"I guess once you learn something, you don't forget it," Dearka said, gesturing back with his racket to the now empty court. Yzak finished his date with his water bottle, carefully screwing the cap back on tightly before answering.

"As you should remember I'm always better than you," Yzak condescended, before adding his afterthought, "At everything."

"Not everything," Dearka intoned, using a voice the spoke of an old and virtually endless argument.

"I could care less about flirting, Elsman," came the sharp retort. Yzak dropped his water bottle into his gym bag and set out for the locker room. Dearka laughed.

"Well, I do." Yzak did not bother holding the door open out of disgust for his womanizing friend's remark. Dearka caught the door with one hand just before it closed and made his way in regardless.

Yzak already had his shoes, socks, and shirt off, his slender torso slick with sweat from their tennis exertion. Dearka smiled inwardly, realizing how much Yzak must have had to work to beat him. Yzak may have been the junior high tennis champion of Martius City, but Dearka was not too shabby at the game either. He set his gym bag down on a bench and then himself next to it. Wrinkling his nose, he carefully took off his tennis shoes and socks, then grabbed his towel, making sure to snap Yzak's exposed side with the end first.

THWACK!

"What the fuck?!" the pale boy began in irate tones, turning to see Dearka too-innocently wiping his neck and face with the offending material.

"Hmmmmm?" Dearka asked, trying his best not to smile. Or burst into fits of hysterical laughter as Yzak turned scarlet with rage. Dearka quickly began taking off his shirt, the better to hide the grin creeping onto his face.

THWACK!

Dearka tore the rest of his shirt off just in time to see Yzak grinning sadistically and readying his towel for another go. The blond swiped up his own towel and dashed out of immediate range.

Yzak followed doggedly, the hunter in pursuit, his weapon cocked and ready. Dearka ran, shirtless, but not towel-less, and was glad that they had been the last men in the gym and the only ones in the locker room now. If anyone came in now... they would find his former commander chasing him like a Blue Cosmos member on steroids but with a black and white checkered towel instead of a stolen GUNDAM. Dearka suddenly skidded to a halt in front of the showers. Yzak followed suit, a towel length away. The silver-haired youth fired first, and Dearka barely managed to dodge in time, the checkered towel skimming his tanned side. He took the opportunity to move in closer and attack while his opponent was reloading.

THWICK!

Not getting a clean blow, Dearka retreated backwards, but found his back suddenly against a wall with a faucet handle poking into his spine uncomfortably. Yzak smiled, triumphant, and closed in, towel at the ready, his body sweaty again, his respiration coming in short, but even breaths. Dearka let one side of his towel drop from his hand as if in defeat. Yzak took his chance decisively and rushed in with a victorious cry.

THWACK!

His towel hit Dearka firmly in his tanned abdomen, just as his de-toweled hand turned the shower knob on, drenching them both in water that quickly heated up. Apparently, the handle had been for only the hot water. Yzak froze, his eyes boring straight into Dearka's brain as the water slicked his fine hair to his head and face.

"Damn you!" he cursed and took a step back to escape the water's onslaught and the destruction it could do to his hair, but Dearka quickly whipped his towel around Yzak's back and caught the other end, trapping the smaller boy and pulling him in closer.

"Now try getting a—" he began snarkily, but was interrupted as Yzak's feet lost their purchase on the wet tiles, and he fell unbalanced, knocking them both to the ground. Luckily for Dearka, Yzak, now spread-eagle on the floor, had cushioned his fall... mostly. The blonde's muscled arms were pinned underneath the weight of both of them and caught slightly in his wet towel. He was sure his elbows would show bruises for at least a day because of the throbbing they were both going through.

For some reason, Dearka also felt himself caught by two very icy blue eyes. With that realization came the sudden awareness of his position of highly intimate contact with the lighter male. The water from the shower pattered on his exposed back, running in rivulets down his sides to where it met Yzak's slick skin. The only things between them were their gym shorts and enough warm water to create a very slippery situation. Then Yzak took a breath, heaving with the weight of his larger friend above him.

Both sets of eyes went wide a s the small movement caused a dramatic shift of their two bodies. Dearka gasped instinctively at the pleasurable sensation of sliding over the smaller boy's skin. Yzak's eyes held a dazed look, different from anything his friend had seen before in all the years they had known each other. Longing? Or just confusion... but then Yzak took another breath, and Dearka's caught in his throat where it quickly plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

He slipped again, his body pressed to the smaller boy's, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan before he could stop himself. He suddenly felt two hands on his back, gripping tightly and for a moment feared he would be thrown off and shoved viciously away, but the fingers only tightened their grip and pulled Dearka closer. Obviously, Yzak did not want to end such a satisfying experience either, and squirmed slightly under the blonde to get more contact, eliciting another moan.

He suddenly felt a hot wetness encompass the hollow above his shoulder bone. Dearka sucked on the spot lazily, using his tongue in small circles and finding his partner deliciously salty. The male below let out a groan that bordered on a whimper. The hands tightened even further, fingers digging into Dearka's wet back.

The blond, encouraged further and entirely lost on what he was actually doing, bent his head and trailed splotches of wet fire across Yzak's chest with his lips and tongue. The rest of his body created the slippery friction.

Yzak let out an aching moan and dragged his fingers up until they were tangled in wet blonde hair. He let his fingers caress Dearka's scalp in erratic muscle contractions, spurring Dearka on to tantalizing heat from his mouth.

Unable to take too much more at present and not used to being the subordinate, Yzak seized a better grip in the blond mass and forced him into a deep, penetrating kiss. It was rough and forceful on impact, but became gentler as their tongues darted in, exploring each other's tastes. Both males found themselves groaning into the other's mouth, wanting more.

"Hey, is there anybody still in here? The gym's closing now! Hurry up and pack your stuff, I'm gonna need to clean the place before I lock up!"

The gruff voice of an older man, undoubtedly the janitor, echoed through the blank minds of the two men sprawled on the floor. It seemed to kickstart their brains and they jumped apart, suddenly finding themselves not so trapped by each other, and got to their feet. Neither looked the other in the eyes.

For a few awkward moments, nothing changed except for the color of Yzak's face. Then Dearka swiftly reached out a hand, and Yzak flinched back, but Dearka only switched off the shower. He then turned and marched briskly to the gym towel rack and seized two. He thrust one back at Yzak wordlessly, who still looked a little confused by Dearka's sudden and purposeful actions. He opened and closed his moth several times, but the pale wet youth could not quite figure out exactly what to say until he had followed the blond to their bags. Yzak planted his feet firmly and forced eye contact.

"That did not happen," he stated, giving Dearka his commanding commander stare. His sharp features held an expression of calm suddenly as if he had just figured out all he had to do to make one equal two was to begin with two. A simple solution.

Dearka just stared.

"What?"

"I said, that did not happen."

"Uh,... well, Yzak, it... uh..." Dearka began, feeling a little like lying is wrong, but not actually wanting to admit what had just happened. He looked down at his feet and busied himself with drying off. Somehow, giving voice to it would make it very real. And then he understood Yzak completely. He looked back up, purple eyes meeting blue.

"Right," he agreed conversationally, "I mean,... what happened?"

"Exactly, Elsman."

There was a short awkward pause.

"Let's get out of here," Yzak muttered hastily. He crammed the wet towel into his bag and pulled on a clean shirt. Dearka was forced to follow suit or be left behind as Yzak strode out the door. Dearka took a deep breath.

"Right. Nothing happened."

Alright, thanks for reading. Now, this first chapter is entered in a contest between myself and two other friends (unless I write something I think fits better into this category and change my mind), so please after reading (and reviewing??) go check out whether they have posted their contest fics. See Tobi Tortue and The Angelic Demoness for more good Yzak/Dearka-ness. And hopefully, I'll be faster at updating things soon.