A/N at the end.
Alek is staring at the slammed door, that Dylan- nay, Deryn, had just stormed out of. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, the conversations topics taking a mental toll on him. So many lies, so much deceit. . . How could he trust anything he- she did? How did he know anything she'd done in the past had had sincere motives?
And his mind is still reeling form the relevation that had come mere moments earlier; that there was a high possibility that Deryn Sharp housed certain affections for him. That a commoner mid-shipmen. . . Well, mid-shipgirl, really, was in love with a prince. He leans back into his ornate chair behind his desk, and wonders at the information. All this time, what he had though to be his friend, his ally. . . Not only had she been lying, not only was she a girl, but she loved him?
His thoughts wander down tiny pathways of ideas and memories. How long has she been. . . well, affectionate for him? He thinks back on all the things he's been through with her, all the looks and jokes and laughter and tough times. All of the things he'd learned from her, all of the things he'd taught her. Now that he knew what to look for, he realized that recently Deryn had been a little. . . flustered, perhaps? It didn't happen often, but every now and then he'd caught her staring at him, seen what looked almost like a blush on her cheeks.
He'd always just dismissed it as either heat from the engines, or a chill from the cold wind. Dummkopf, indeed, he snorted mentally, thinking back on all of the times she'd called him that. But really, he mused, was Deryn's affections for him such a bad thing? If he really though about it, there wasn't necessarily anyone who loved him these days. Sure, there was Count Volger, but he wasn't so much concerned about his well-being so much as the throne and the "future Emperor". None of the crew really cared for him, even now they still warily regarded him, as though he would turn on them at any given time.
But Deryn. . . Deryn was quick-witted, and skilled and smart. And sometimes, usually when he was in the midst of doing some brave, yet undoubtedly foolhardy act, Deryn had seemed. . . what word had Deryn used once? "Dashing?"
Every now and then, during those moments, Deryn had seemed dashing.
He'd dismissed it before, as the sort of admiration you give decorated war heroes, or accomplished athletes, but now. . . He blushed slightly, glad there was no one in his cabin to see, now knowing that he'd thought of a girl as "dashing".
And the lamps flickered a little lower, his mind still rolling over the thought of Dylan actually being Deryn, and said Deryn having feelings for him, and all the other problems and plans and complications and deceits. And somehow, his mind turns to Lillit. How jealously Deryn had looked at her, how he had, as always, dismissed it (Alek was beginning to realize that he really was rather daft sometimes). How similar and how different the two girls were.
They were both intelligent, skilled in a variety of helpful topics, brave and, on the occasions, incredibly foolish. And both of them, he realized, had rather appealing features, in quite different ways. Lillit was mature and curvaceous, all high cheekbones and soft eyes and secretive smiles formed by pretty, plump lips. And Deryn. . .
Alek blew out a long sigh and slumped a little lower in his chair. As wrong as it felt, he couldn't help but compare the two. . . girls. He shuddered at the word, still refusing to believe the truth, even with so much irrefutable evidence in front of him. But Deryn was rather. . . we refused to use the word "pretty", as he was sure that if ever used the word aloud, he'd be pummeled into a pulp by said girl, and even though she was a girl, it felt like a completely alien way to describe her, like describing something soft as "crunchy".
Maybe beautiful? He blushed at the mere though of the word, but he couldn't deny that in a weird way, the word sort of fit her. She had a wide brow, shark cheekbones and jaw, and thin, yet still soft, peachy-colored lips. He doesn't notice when his thoughts turn to center around her lips, around the way they move when she talks, when she swears, the way they curl when she smiles, and the wrinkles around the corners when she frowns. How her lips wrap around her fork when she's eating, how she had gingerly bitten the bottom one and how lifeless and watery her eyes had looked just now, when she'd been slumped in the chair still strewn across from his desk, denying his accusations and looking so unlike the Dylan he'd thought he'd once knew.
And as he ponders what had once been his friend's lips, something appears in a flash behind his closed eyelids, a flicker of a memory. Slender fingers snatching abnormally equally slender wrists, bodies pressed together and plump lips meeting slim ones.
His eyelids flew open and he all but stopped breathing at the sudden realization.
Lillit had kissed Dylan, who was really Deryn, who was really a girl.
Lillit had kissed a girl.
A girl had kissed Deryn, who was a girl.
He briefly recalled a wickedly enjoyable conversation in a vacant hotel room with a flustered Dyl-Deryn, telling her of Lillit's affections for her. (Good Lord, he really was a dummkopf, wasn't he?) And he recalls Deryn's shocked expression when Lillit's lips had pressed against her own unsuspecting ones, her tiny smirk and her remark "-She's not a bad kisser."
He paled suddenly. Although she hadn't initiated the kiss, she hadn't seemed to regret it. And now she appeared to have affections for him.
. . .What did that mean?
He feels a little nauseous at the thought, and he quickly tucks away the thought into a locked cabinet, refusing to contemplate what that might mean. So he throws his throws his nightclothes on, splashes some cold water from the bathroom sink onto his face and all but launches himself onto the mattress.
His last thought before oblivion takes hold of his reeling mind is of that kiss, of those few, tiny seconds where Deryn's lips had been pressed up against another pair.
And, as his eyes grew heavy, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe being kissed like that by Deryn would be so bad.
And those weeks later, cowering in the freezing rain atop of the Leviathan, even with his head aching and his vision blurry, he can't help but wildly think of how it's a million times better then what even he had, in those few moments, fantasized.
And later still, standing on the great airship with the lights of the city glimmering softly below them, When his arms are curled around her slim waist and her fingers are tugging so lightly on the hairs on the back of his neck, sending tiny, pleasurable shivers down his spine, he marvels at how this one is even better then their first.
And, years and years from now, he'll still be marveling at her kisses, swearing that each one is better then the last, always refusing to believe that it's possible, until she kisses him again and completely destroys what he's sure of, like she always tends to do.
A/N: Oh my~ I was NOT expecting this to become so long. It was supposed to be a tiny fic-squick on Alek realizing Deryn kissed a girl xD
But I'm actually pretty satisfied with it, to be honest.
I know I should be working on my NaNoWriMo, or even my other fan-fictions, but I read Goliath today and I just NEEDED to write a oneshot. Sorry, to the fans of my other fics.
Ira: You're a terrible author, y'know that?
Ah, I was wondering when you'd make your appearance. And yea, I knew that already TTuTT
So! Opinions?