FE9 Ike/Soren! Well, it's Soren one-sidedly pining after Ike, I suppose. I ship these two so hard. It's a lot of fun to imagine how their relationship might progress over the course of the game, behind the scenes. Takes place between Chapters 12 & 13.

Tap tap tap.

Ike looked up from his table of maps and records.

"Soren, is that you? Come in."

The mage's slight and shadowy figure slipped through the doorway, balancing an armful of scrolls as he closed the door to Ike's cramped cabin room.

"Ike, sorry I'm late...The combat report is ready."

It had been difficult to accurately quantify the results of the last battle, seeing as it had been their first encounter with Raven laguz, and there had been so many of them... But he'd finally finished.

"No problem," Ike said, "we've got quite a ways until we hit shore, there's no rush."

"Just the same, I wanted to get it to you as soon as..."

What little color remained in Soren's face completely drained when he finally looked up at his commander. He'd taken off everything save his pants, boots, and a loose white undershirt. It was this shirt that bothered Soren the most. The neck was low and wide, the collar unlaced, exposing his throat to the top of his chest. It made Ike far more attractive to Soren at that moment than he wanted to admit.

"...As soon as possible," Soren finished, hoping he hadn't left too much of a pause. He handed him the report.

Ike took it and scanned it over. "Thank you." He seemed not to notice Soren's sudden flush.

Then his commander made a face. "That's our funds, huh? Already so low?"

"Yes," Soren admitted, grudgingly. "All the cargo, and new equipment... and that thief." He couldn't leave Volke out of the equation. "It adds up quickly."

"Yeah..."

"Not to worry," he added quickly, "we'll still have more than enough to sustain us once we reach land." What? Was he looking on the bright side? Why was he trying to comfort him?

Ike scratched his head, then realized he hadn't taken off his bandana yet. Soren watched almost in pain as he loosened the knot at the back of his head and tossed the long green strip on the table, oblivious to the way his blue hair spilled over his forehead.

In battle, Soren often didn't have time to admire his commander. But now there were no such distractions, no cloaks or armor to hide the hard contours of his body. It wasn't often that Soren had a chance to see him this... unclothed. He definitely had his work cut out for him tonight.

Soren cleared his throat. "As for the combat itself... No one sustained any serious injuries, and there were no broken weapons or casualties. We fought well..."

"Tell me about it, those birds were a pain."

Soren was having difficulty concentrating. He hoped he wasn't giving that away somehow. If Ike would just keep his the rest of his clothes on...

But it seemed Ike didn't really have his head in the game either. He kept playing with his feather quill, flipping it around and around in his fingers, tapping it on the table, like he couldn't listen; something was eating at him.

"You seem irritable," Soren noted, perching himself in the empty chair next to his commander.

Ike rubbed his neck. "You know, I think it's that damned lady with the caravan. Aimee, the one who sells us the vulneraries?" Soren nodded. Ike seemed a little embarrassed. "She's got some kind of thing for me. Every time I go down there, she has to make it awkward somehow. At first she would just wink at me when I handed her money, but now..." Ike trailed off, not wanting to relive the memories any longer. "Geez, she just won't let up."

Soren frowned, jealous that this woman could so brazenly display her desire for him without a twinge of guilt. He was glad Ike hated her.

"You could send someone else down to trade with her," Soren suggested. Maybe me, so I could give her a piece of my mind...

"I know, I should..."

Completely switching moods, Ike leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "Man. With a million far more pressing thing to worry about, you'd think it wouldn't bother me, but it does!" He paused, then added, "Or maybe it's because of all those other things... It's the straw that breaks the wyvern's back."

A short silence settled between them as the two mused on Ike's strange circumstances. They felt the boat heave, listened to its wooden creaking. Fate tossed their lives around just as easily as the waves tossed around a ship at sea. Who would have imagined the Greil Mercenaries would end up on a ship to Begnion, when just weeks ago they had been snugly shuttered away in Crimea... robbed of their old commander, no less...

"Maybe," Soren began, staring into the candle flame, "maybe because it's something so small, you feel that you should be able to manage it better... Whereas in the face of massive conflicts, your only strategy is simply to keep moving forward, despite the risks... You don't have the luxury of second-guessing anything."

Ike swallowed. "I think you're right." He then turned his head to his tactician. He found himself suddenly transfixed by his pale portrait, the way the candlelight threw soft shadows over his face; his dark hair, the color of the deep woods, appeared black in the dim room. His serious eyes, the color of wine, now stared back at him-uneasily, he noted. And that strange red mark on his forehead... Though it was difficult to see, Ike had it memorized. He could draw it on paper if he wanted.

"What is it?" Soren asked, finally.

"Nothing," he said softly. "I'm just... always grateful for your insight."

Soren dropped his eyes down to the table. "It's the least I can do for you, commander."

When the discomfort became too great for Soren, he stood up and made his way for the door.

"If you'll excuse me..."

"Hey, Soren?"

Hand on the doorknob, he turned around; had he been too hasty to leave?

"Good night." Ike smiled at him. "Get some rest."

"Good night, commander." Soren tried to return the smile, then left.

Soren closed the door behind him, then leaned against it with a sigh.

Goodness, I'm a mess.

The moment he had escaped from that room he realized how quickly his heart was pounding, and yes, what parts of his body were responding; he hoped Ike hadn't noticed. It was impossible for him to deny anything now.