Anything Else?
A/N: The rating comes from suggestiveness, which we all know and love.
Anyway, this fic was, essentially, a birthday present to myself (considering that today, July 8, happens to be my birthday), though since that sounds horribly pathetic, we'll call this a fic for Yzak's birthday. Just a month early.
Maroon 5's song 'The Sun' kind of gave me this fic idea, which I first used with two OC's of mine (to crash-test the idea). The idea of Voltaire's kitchen can be credited to Draconicality (go read her fics too, people), who got me thinking about aforementioned kitchen thanks to a roleplay. This fic's also dedicated to Draconicality, and Hazel, who both constantly nagged me into writing again. This was done in exchange for a chibi artage of Auel and Heine (again, thanks to Drac), and because after cosplaying Badsuit!Yzak, I figured I owed Everyone's Favorite Neglected Character an apology.
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The Voltaire was a large ship, large enough to accommodate Commander Joule's squadron and a full crew, along with the corresponding mobile suits and equipment. Now, instead of having just a small room aboard the Vesalius shared with Dearka, Yzak found himself in control of owning just as much space as he desired. And that was a change readily welcomed.
Yzak had requested a shared living space, one with all the necessities for two people to live separately in, yet still have access to all of the main rooms. No one had questioned it--after all, Yzak had shared a room with Dearka ever since the two of them had met. What would change that now?
Included in Yzak's requests was for a private kitchen, to make whatever they wished whenever they wished, away from the rest of the members of the ship. Most of its use came from Dearka, who was frequently issued food requests from the silver-haired male, and who was expected to obey such requests, whether or not his cooking abilities complied.
At breakfast time, this was especially the case. Despite Yzak knowing well how to make himself breakfast, Dearka had fallen into, customarily, doing it for him. Yzak had never argued against it.
Pancakes, orange juice, scrambled eggs, and toast sitting on the plate before him, Yzak Joule appeared to approve, once again, of Dearka's cooking. This, of course, was obvious because he wasn't complaining loudly, or pulling a face every time the fork autonomously brought whatever it carried to his mouth. Dearka, watched, smirking, as Yzak ate.
The fork slowly lowered as blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, studying the other male. "What is it?"
Dearka's smirk faded slowly, as he raised an eyebrow. "Oh, just wondering if I could get you anything else, Yzak."
"Coffee." Yzak said, still eyeing Dearka.
"And how would you like your coffee?" Dearka questioned. "With some sugar? Cream? Sex on the side?"
"You know how I like my co--excuse me?" The Commander twitched visibly, slamming the fork into the table and leering at Dearka. "I'll get my own coffee, thank you." Pushing back his chair, he stood free from the table, taking heavy, irritated steps toward the coffee maker. It never ceased to amaze him at how one-tracked the blonde's mind was.
Reaching the appliance, he grabbed the filters. Inserting one, he then looked for the coffee itself. "Dearka! Where did you put the coffee?" he snapped, growling afterward. The blonde was simply impossible.
Arms slid across Yzak's slender waist, hands following the belt to the Commander's uniform. "Right behind you." Dearka's voice was right next to his ear, deep and seductive, breath fanning his skin and causing the hair on the back of the shorter male's neck to prick up.
"Not now!" Yzak hissed, feeling the color rise to his cheeks as Dearka's hands slid under the belt, teasingly threatening to undo it.
Dearka smirked, nipping gently at the other male's earlobe. "Why? You know you want to, Yzak."
Pink flushed across pale cheeks, as Yzak tried to continue looking annoyed. Brow furrowed, he glared at Dearka over his shoulder. "We don't have time! Are you forgetting the briefing this morning that we have to give to the entire crew? If we're late--!"
"We just overslept and lost track of time, and both are terribly sorry for the inconvenience," the blonde suggested softly. "Speaking of briefs..."
"You overslept and lost track of time and I had to wait for you." Yzak interrupted, tight jawed, fingers digging into the surface of the counter.
Dearka grinned lightly, meeting violet eyes with ice blue. "Do I get my reward for making you breakfast?"
"You call that breakfast?" Yzak asked, bitterly (though, Dearka knew it wasn't the honest truth--Yzak quite enjoyed his cooking).
The blonde decided not to respond, feeling Yzak relax back against him.
Yzak's expression faultered, a 'Hrmph!' noise emitting from his mouth in defeat. The belt to a white ZAFT uniform dropped to the kitchen floor. Yzak turned slowly, wrapping his arms around Dearka's neck, eyeing him still.
"My breakfast is getting cold." the silver-haired pilot said. "If I have to eat a cold breakfast and be late, you better make this worth it."
"Is that an order, Commander Joule?"
"Shut up and do me."
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The briefing on the current state of things, both on the frontlines and within the ship itself, had went flawlessly. It was a somewhat routine thing by now, with how easily and effortlessly Yzak adjusted to the role of delivering speeches. Dearka knew just how much the Commander enjoyed standing at a podium, addressing the members of his squadron. He assumed it had something to do with Yzak's obsession over seniority--or possibly with the fact that Athrun Zala lacked a podium of his own.
And anything Yzak had that Athrun didn't was something to be cherished.
"Any questions?" Yzak asked to the room full of pilots and mechanics, gaze scanning the crowd. Usually, this was met by silence. Most knew better than to ask questions after Yzak delivered a speech of any sort. You were expected to pay attention and know everything, because Yzak Joule Never Left Anything Out.
This time, however, after a small group muttered to each other, a hand rose. "Sir!"
Eyebrow lifting, Yzak shot a glance toward Dearka. The blonde looked smug, though shrugged. Turning back to the raised hand, Yzak sighed. "What?"
"Sir, something seems different about you today."
And that started it.
"Yeah, you do seem different, sir!"
"Did something happen?"
Yzak's eyes widened slightly, as he shot a quick glance Dearka's way that said Get me out of this right now. The blonde, once more, smirked, and shrugged. Scowling darkly, he turned back to his men. "You're all imagining things."
"That means he got laid." One of the guys stated, loudly.
And like small children who had just discovered something worthy of tattle-tailing, a joint 'Oooooooh' went across the crowd, with chortles mixed in.
"Commander got lucky, did he?"
"C'mon, we want details!"
Dearka was grinning now, watching Yzak. "Yeah, Commander, we want details."
"This briefing is officially over." Yzak snapped, glaring at Dearka. Walking to the blonde, Yzak seized him by his jacket collar. "I'll give you details." He growled under his breath, quiet enough that no one else could hear. It wasn't the playful sort of statement either. It was Yzak's 'I'm Going To Kill You So Say Your Prayers' tone of voice.
Turning to the soldiers and clearing his throat, Yzak spoke. "If you'll excuse us, I need to discuss matters further with Elsman." And with that, he pulled Dearka out of the conference room, leaving behind the rest of the members of the ship.
One of the mechanics grinned, holding up his wallet.
"Bets, anyone?"
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"You're dead. Dead dead dead! You planned this, Dearka! All of this. This is all your goddamn fault." Yzak accused, still keeping a firm grip on the other male's uniform, blue eyes narrowed into slits, voice a deep growl, trying desperately to keep his anger in check. "I hate you, I hate your breakfasts, and you know what I need right now?"
"More sex?" Dearka questioned, somewhat timidly. Yzak was about to explode. If he was anyone other than Dearka Elsman, he would be fearing for his life at the moment.
"I need coffee. Because of you, I did not get coffee." Yzak's right eye had developed a strange twitch. Dearka could hear him ticking. "I do not need more sex right now and I never want to have sex again. You're getting castrated."
"I'm getting casterated? No more sex?" the blonde repeated, eyebrows raising slowly, deciding to try his luck. "Want me to change your mind?"
"No. No. NO." Yzak was rabid. He was foaming at the mouth, steaming out of the ears, his eyes were popping out of his head, and, he was still ticking. His face had turned an ugly shade of infuriated red, clashing awfully with his hair and uniform. "I've been publicly humiliated because of you and your mind!"
Dearka smirked, still managing to look smug. "I don't think my mind was the problem, here, Yzak."
"Shut up! Shut up!"
"You're repeating yourself." Dearka stated coolly.
"I said shut up!"
"But do you mean it?"
"Dammit, yes I do!"
"Are you sure you mean it?"
Yzak growled and snapped. Pinning Dearka roughly against the wall in the hallway, he connected his lips forcefully with the tanned male's. Mentally, Dearka claimed another victory.
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The crew slowly began filing out of the conference room, chattering amongst themselves about everything but the briefing. Turning as she exited, Shiho Hahnenfuss' gaze traveled down the direction of the hallway. Both eyebrows raised, and slowly, the rest of the crew turned to see just what was so interesting.
A few jaws dropped, and the mechanic who had collected bets moments before laughed heartily. "Well now that solves it!"
Yzak quickly broke out of the lip lock, head turning quickly to the other end of the hall, where an audience stood watching. And then, the audience broke out in scattered applause.
Growling as he slowly turned back to face Dearka, he gripped the male's collar even tighter. "Dearka!"
"I know, I'm dead," the blonde grinned, eyebrow raising slowly. "Anything else, Yzak?"
"I'm making those your last words."
And, by the way Yzak said it, Dearka found it hard to not believe it.