Author Note: This chapter is a collection of 100-word vignettes, or drabbles. None are related or pertain to each other, and I doubt I'll ever expand on any of the vignettes. Also, I've noticed a lack of angst in these oneshots, so there's a bit of that in here. Enjoy.
The commander was sulking again today. Shiho entered his office to a mess of paperwork and furniture.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing!" he bellowed.
"You're not still mad about being passed over for that promotion, are you?"
"No," he spoke through clenched teeth. "I couldn't care less about the promotion."
"Then you're mad Athrun got it?"
Yzak was silent. Shiho sat on his desk and leaned toward him. "You shouldn't feel inferior to him. Besides, there's something you've got that he'll never be able to have."
"Damn right. I'll kill Zala if he ever touched you."
And he kissed her.
Yanking open the door, Yzak scowled at the source of incessant banging that woke him that morning.
"Deakka! What the hell do you want?"
"Can it, Yzak. I'm not here for you." Looking over Yzak's shoulder, Deakka shouted into the apartment, "Shiho!"
After a moment, she appeared timidly, clothed in an oversized dress shirt. "How'd you know I was here?" she asked, sheepish.
"You two are not nearly as discrete as you believe," he answered. "They need you at the testing base for consultation, Shiho."
"Sorry, Yzak," she said, pecking him on the cheek. "I'll see you later."
Yzak growled.
They moved together with such fluidity it was amazing. She pressed her back against his and they spun about, pistols spitting out a string of bullets. They jumped and dodged their assailants with synchronized grace, years of camaraderie making each in so tune with the other as they danced around the room.
And that night, when the dust settled and the threat dispersed, she crept into his arms nervously for the first time, and he wasn't surprised when her body molded against his perfectly like a second skin, her curves pressed to his hard edges, blurring the lines between them.
"You sure you don't want one?" Shiho asked, popping another piece of strawberry-flavored candy into her mouth.
"No. I hate sweets."
"Seriously?"
"Yes," Yzak sighed, typing a report at his desk.
"Huh. Suit yourself. This is the last one anyway."
Yzak turned to her, sucking casually on the confectionary. A sudden desire came over him, and he stood abruptly, making his way toward her. She watched as he leaned down and gave her a deep kiss.
Licking his lips, Yzak scrunched his face. "Not bad," he said, walking away.
"Hey!" she yelled when she realized he had stolen her candy.
"You know," he purred into her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "I'm glad you lost that bet against Deakka."
He pressed up even closer to her, Shiho's breath hitching as Yzak nibbled on her earlobe. She could practically imagine the grin on his face when she twitched as his hand slid its way down her waist, grasping her thigh and bringing it over his hips.
"Easier access," he breathed sultrily, trailing his hand back up her leg and underneath the pink skirt she had been forced to wear that day, relishing in her gasps as he caressed her bottom.
He pressed the gun harder into the space between her breasts and watched as her eyes grew wider and her mouth gaped open to gasp. She was pinned underneath him, a tear slowly trickling down her face.
"Are you really…"
"Yes," he seethed, "only death awaits a traitor."
Her eyes pinched shut, releasing more tears. "How can you follow such an evil chairman—"
"Shut up!" he screeched, and pulled the trigger, because he needed to believe in someone, something, in this stupid war.
Why didn't you believe in me? the words unspoken on her tongue as her eyes closed.
Yzak's first thought when he woke was that he was unnaturally warm. He threw the blanket off and, to his horror, realized he was naked. Someone shifted beside him—wait, someone else in his bed…?
He flushed horribly when he noticed the long strands of dark brown hair fanned over the pillow. His bedmate shifted again, this time opening her eyes, and blearily registered the man she was staring at. Recognition flared across her face and she sat straight up, unknowingly exposing herself, and scrambled to cover herself.
Yzak merely grinned, and reached to tug the blanket away from her.
"Shiho."
She doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to answer. But she does anyway.
"Yzak."
His hair—perfect, silver—is disheveled, his uniform—glaringly white—is crumpled, his eyes—beautiful, clear blue—are pained, his soul—impenetrable, resolute—is broken.
"Please don't go." His voice is raucous, raw.
The handle of her suitcase bites into her hand, her grip becoming even stronger at the sight of his state of distress.
"I have to."
"Why?"
"Because I love you more than I should and it scares me."
He tries to understand, but she is already gone.
"Never knew you were one to pout," Yzak spoke, strolling up to her on the bridge.
Shiho turned away from him to hide her scowl, opting to view the murky waters below.
"What do you want?" she hissed.
He stood next to her, casting his sight over to the horizon. "Just wanted to see how you were."
Shiho clenched her fist suddenly. "Tell me why you denied my request for transfer! How am I supposed to find my place if you won't let me move on?"
"Because," he said as he walked away, "you're already where you're supposed to be."
"Mommy?" the six-year-old asked.
"Yes?" Shiho answered, holding his hand tighter.
"What's going on?"
They were situated in a group of holiday shoppers, gazing at the large TV screen in the middle of the shopping plaza.
"The chairman is giving a speech."
The boy looked in awe at the man on the screen. His features were impeccable, not a silver hair out of place, blue eyes steady as he spoke.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Emmerson says I look like the chairman."
Shiho turned to her son, gazing into his deep, startling azure eyes, and, with a smile, said, "Yes, you do."