Damn, I wish I was your lover

By RaVen0us

----

Part four: Emotions

On Monday morning, the imperial colonel stood on tiptoe, his back to the door, as he struggled to reach a small kit on a high shelf. The organoid 'Esmeralda' must have pushed it to the back. He heard someone come in the warehouse, but he could feel the edge of the kit and didn't want to let go.

"I'll be with you in a second." He said, breathless from stretching, "Just soon---as I get this darn---"

"I'll get it for you."

Karl jumped at the sound of Irvine's voice right next to him. Whirling to face him, he withdrew his arm as though the kit has bitten him, and banged his elbow on the edge of the shelf. Irvine winced at the cracking sound, but his eyes never left Karl as he easily grasped the offending kit and handed it to him. The colonel felt nailed to the floor by those eyes.

"D-Denke." ('Thank you' in German(-author) Karl stuttered. He knew that he is damn blushing again, and he could feel it all the way back to his ears. His arm throbbed like blue murder, and he clamped his hand over it protectively. He felt so awkward. After the kiss, the dream, every sensation he experienced in his presence seems magnified. His grand plans to behave with aloof nonchalance evaporated in the heat of his nearness. Irvine, on the other hand seemed not to be bothered at all.

"I'll bet that hurt," he said, nodding at his arm. Irvine pulled Karl's hand away and massaged his elbow with strong gentle strokes. Even through the fabric his touch was warm and vital on his skin. Suddenly, the pain began to fade.

The curve of his full mouth had a sculpted look. His face was broad across the cheekbones and firm jawed. Whether or not he wanted to, Karl couldn't deny that Irvine was an attractive man. The colonel managed to break their eye contact, only to let his errant gaze drift downward to see that he was wearing his new slacks. They did indeed fit him well, as though they'd been molded to his shape. For a moment he felt a trembling desire to----

GOD, WHAT WAS HE THINKING?!

Karl eased his arm out of his grip. "What---" he cleared his throat and began again. "What do you want, Irvine?"

Irvine dropped his hands to his sides and glanced around the stock room. Now HE seemed uncertain. "I came here to get some----bolts." He looked at the colonel again. "Yeah, bolts and screws, I am fixing up something in my lightning saix so I might need some of that."

Karl eyed him skeptically. Irvine's real mission was probably to see Thomas. His younger brother was at the imperial headquarters this morning, and a tart remark hovered on the tip of his tongue, but then he thought better of it.

He nodded and looked for an assistant, but unfortunately there was none. WHY do they disappear when he needs them? With a small disappointed sigh, he went to the smaller stock of crates and opened one of them. "How much? A pound?"

"Yeah, that'll be fine, I guess." He walked around to the other side of the stock room and leaned against another crate, watching while Karl grabbed a small satchel and scooped the bolts and screws into it. He'd probably done it a couple of times but he fumbled around like it's his first day. Hoping it would help, Karl turned away from him, so he couldn't see him. But he felt as if his gray eyes were burning holes in his back.

"This place was in pretty bad shape the last time I saw it. Looks like your men got it back together again," Irvine said. "What about those glass shields?"

He peeked over his shoulder at him, his tension easing just a little. As long as anything that involves his job and career as an officer (even if recently its starting to get boring), it was Karl's pride and joy. "I ordered a piece of glass, but of course it'll probably take weeks to get here."

"I hope it gets to this place in one piece," Irvine said, glancing around the stock room. "By the way, I'm sorry to hear about the news."

Karl looked up, turning around to face the much darker man, his green eyes partially wide in question. "About what?"

"It must have been hard for you to finally take a leave, after all that have happened, I mean."

Irvine was recalling the final battle for the safety of Zi, when both the republic and imperial forces joined to defeat Hiltz. Karl plays an important role by controlling the gravity cannon.

No, it wasn't really like that." Karl said stiffly, "I have done my role, and I never regretted my service with the imperial force. Besides, I'm pretty young when I started out. It was my father's idea to enlist me in the army---he said its better that I am able to stand in my own in case I never---" Karl turned back to the crate, leaving the sentence unfinished. He is so embarrassed. He was starting to bare personal details of his life to this man he hardly knew. He almost blurted out the fact his father hadn't expect him to get married. He was never been the marrying type. Everyone has high expectations in him, being the eldest son in the family. He was brought up so he can be an imperial officer, and other matters were ignored----like if he would ever marry. Now, he'd been twenty-nine years old when his father died, and still unmarried.

An awkward silence fell between them.

"How come I didn't see you out on the dance floor last Saturday night?" Irvine asked, softly.

"I'm one of those in charge, I just can't go out there and dance." He replied, suddenly feeling defensive.

"So? There are a lot of chaperones who could take your place. You can always instruct one; you're a superior officer anyway, right?" Irvine's eyes were fixed on him, expecting an answer.

The colonel put the bag on one side of the scale and added more contents and weighed the small satchel one more time. "I just can't leave my duty, Irvine. As one of the participators and superiors in the event, it would be hardly appropriate for me to dance with anyone else." Karl didn't add that no one would even dare to ask him.

"That's because you worry what others would say when you dance with Leon, huh?" Irvine leveled a serious look on the colonel. The statement made the hair behind Karl's neck prickle and he nearly ripped the satchel as he tied the top into a close knot.

"People won't have much to say since my military career would be shortly over," Karl said bitingly, slamming the satchel in front of Irvine, making the darker youth inch away in surprise. "I'm more afraid what other people would say with the sickening plot you have turned my brother into, Irvine. And I'm warning you."

Irvine gave him a reproachful look, "Are you worried because he is turning to be like you, Karl? It was your brother who returned my affections. I didn't force him. Same goes to you and Leon."

He hates it when people forget their formalities in front of a superior officer; he opened his mouth to reprimand him, but thought better of it and shut it once more. They have been talking informally for nearly 10 minutes, what is there to reprimand now?

"Did he give you that spiffy brooch you are wearing?"

The colonel's hand went automatically to the amulet. Why he still wore it, he couldn't explain even to himself. "No, he didn't." The former rouge's questions made him uncomfortable, but not so much that he was tempted to mind his own business. But he didn't like the direction this conversation had taken. He shoved the tied up satchel to Irvine.

"Was there anything else you wanted, Irvine?"

Irvine gave him a half-smile, as though realizing that he'd been dismissed. He grabbed his satchel from the counter and turned to leave. Then over his shoulder, he replied,

"Just one more thing, I guess."

"And what would that be?"

"Can I call you just plain Karl?" He didn't wait for his answer, but continued out of the door.

It wasn't until he heard the metal doors slam together that Karl was able to breathe.

"Irvine--" he whispered.

----

For the next hour, the imperial colonel leaned at the paper works at his office desk in his headquarters and tried to work on the account book, a task that usually took only thirty minutes at most. With a sigh, he pushed back from the desk and stretched his gloved hands once more before dipping his pen in the ink bottle again. As he stared down at the names and amounts at the ruled page, he realized this was the third time he started over. Every time he touched the pen to paper, the lines and ink strokes all ran together and he'd begin daydreaming.

He rested his chin in one hand, and cast a slow, side-long glance at the wall to his right. 'He' was on the other side of that wall---few feet away from his quarters. What was he doing? Was he working with his stuff right now? Tinkering with the itsy bitsy parts he'll customize for his lightning saix that he absolutely loved to pieces? He could picture him at the hangar right now, adjusting his eye patch like a precision specialist, his dark head bent as his well-toned muscled body leaned over to fix something.

Willfully disregarding any sense of guilt, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to the dream he had the night of the dance. Feverish and sweet, it still seemed as real as the lock of his hair he twisted on his gloved finger. He imagined his lips on his, the barest touch of his tongue to his lips. He smelled so good, so familiar. He placed his hand on the back of his neck and felt his thick, soft hair beneath his fingers.

"I guess you might want to have some, bro." his younger brother called as he scurried in, carrying a covered basket.

Thomas' voice jolted Karl out of his shameful reverie, and dropped his pen, splashing ink all over the ledger. "Verdammt!" (Goddamn it! In German(-- author) He felt as guilty as if had been caught stealing money from the military's treasury account. He turned away from his brother, certain that every lustful thought was clearly written on his impassive face.

"Well, my, you're jumpy these days." Thomas clucked, observing him. He walked to the desk and looked over his big brother's shoulder. The scent of molasses and vanilla followed the lieutenant. The younger blonde gestured at the basket he'd left by the other table. "Leave those boring figures alone and take a break."

"You know, lieutenant, THESE boring figures are going to be your responsibility pretty soon. I wish you'd spend more time getting familiar with them," Karl said, not quite able to keep the irritable edge out of his voice.

"Oh, I know, but not today bro---I mean, colonel sir." Thomas said, quickly making his salute. There is a small smile playing on his lips. He reached back to the smaller table and lifted the white napkin on the basket to reveal molasses cookies. "Moonbay said these are your favorites."

It didn't take much to distract the exhausted colonel. "All right. I'm not getting very far with this anyway." He put his pen aside and took a cookie. They were moist and fragrant with spices. Moonbay was a superb cook. He never believed it himself; until she forced him to take a bite when she whipped out a batch during the celebration few years ago after the final battle with Hiltz. The molasses cookies are his favorites. A wide jade eye peeked out of the cap, "I hope you don't expect me to eat them all." He said, before taking his third cookie.

Thomas shook his head between munches. "No, I thought you'd like to take the rest to Leon later. It would do you good to get away from here for awhile."

Karl smiled, gratefully latching onto the idea. Solid, unruffled Leon. He didn't make his insides jumpy, or drag his thoughts off to private corners where they didn't belong. He might just need to get his mind off---off what he shouldn't think of.

He glanced at the brooch near his right shoulder. "Lieutenant, do you believe in magic?" If there was a likely believer, it would Thomas.

His younger brother regarded him with those familiar green eyes and shrugged. "You mean like spells and potions and such?"

Karl nodded.

Thomas smiled faintly, his pallor for a moment looked beatific. "Wouldn't it be just wonderful just to make wishes and get what you want? If I could, I'd wish for a wonderful journey to see new places and meet new people. Nothing ever happens to this boring place anyway." He said, "But those things don't work, and the people who say they do, well, it's probably just because they WANT to believe."

"You mean the power of suggestion?" Karl asked, popping the last bite of the cookie before dusting the crumbs off his finger gloves.

Thomas had to think for a moment, and then he nodded. "But you're always so practical and level headed, why are you asking about magic?"

Karl took another cookie and picked up his pen. "I was just wondering about Doctor Dee's strange hobby and how a man of science himself managed to believe in things like that." Karl hoped he sounded casual.

His brother laughed. "Even I DIDN'T believe that nonsense." He pushed the cookie basket toward Karl. "You should deliver these to Leon while they're still warm. Moonbay said they're tasty while fresh."

Slowly, Karl gripped his pen tightly and stared at the wall again. Heaven help him. He knew Thomas was right: Doctor Dee and this brooch were just so nonsense