A/N: This chapter talks a lot about baseball, so if it doesn't interest you, I'm sorry! Please enjoy despite that!

Chapter Four: The Calm Before the Storm

All day I try to focus on thoughts of the Red Sox and Boston rather than Kira, and I end up failing miserably. My French notebook is full "je t'aime Kira,"(1) my math book goes from calculus problems to a page of Athrun + Kira, and in history I have a time line of our friendship, leading up to today. You get the idea, right? I'm obsessing.

I smile to myself as I make my way through the halls to leave that afternoon, avoiding any teachers I spot; I'm cutting practice so we can go to the game.

"Hey Zala!" a voice yells from behind me. I turn to see Mr. La Flaga striding towards me, his usual lop-sided smile on his face, causing any girls he walks by to pass out.

"Uh, h-hi coach, I was just–"

"I heard that you and Kira are going to see the Sox tonight, right? Have fun,"he says.

"Wait, then what about practice?" I ask, puzzled.

"I have, uh, plans," he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"A date, coach?" I inquire carefully.

"Yeah, but don't tell anyone I'm going out with Murrue," he whispers.

"My English teacher!" I exclaim, then clamp my mouth shut when I realize what I said.

"Yes, her, the hot one. I won't bust on you and Kira for being an item if you do the same for me," he says in a hushed voice.

"WHAT! H-how'd you–" I sputter.

"Heh, call it instinct," he says with a wink as he disappears into the crowds of students.

HOW THE HELL DOES HE KNOW! Feh. Things are getting weirder around here by the day. I sigh, shaking my head as I shuffle the rest of the way down the hall then hop down the steps as Kira pulls up in his convertible. We both changed out of our uniforms into our Red Sox attire, jerseys and hats, and the tickets are in my wallet.

"What's wrong? You get caught?" he asks as I slump down in the passenger seat.

"No, practice is cancelled. Coach La Flaga is dating Ms. Ramius," I reply.

"Really? No way! How do you know?" he exclaims as he pulls out of the parking lot.

"He told me so," I say.

"As long as we're not in trouble," he sighs.

"No, I'm sure the two of them will be in good moods tomorrow, so we won't be punished for anything."

"You don't think . . .?" he looks over at me with a questioning gaze.

"Oh, I'm sure of it. La Flaga seems like the type that's not patient with those kinds of things. And neither are you," I whisper the last sentence with a smirk on my lips.

"Oh yeah! Then why am I a virgin and you're not, huh?" he retorts, swerving into the next lane.

"You never really loved Lacus," I state.

There's a long pause and he shakes his head, "no, I didn't. It was always you," he smiles angelically as we come to a stop, the traffic jammed because of an accident a few miles ahead of us.

I glance forward to make sure the cars aren't moving before leaning over and quickly kissing him on the cheek. I laugh when I see the reaction of the girl in the car next to us, her eyes the size of oranges. I flip my middle finger at her as we speed off down the highway, leaving the homophobic bitch in a cloud of dust.

Since we have a couple hours to spare before th game starts, instead of going into the park, we go to the merch shop on the other side of Yawkey Way.

"You buying anything for your family?" I ask as we wander around the large store. I cringe when I see the list he pulls out of his pocket; four of the items have the letter "C" next to them.

"What does she want? I snap, hoping that whatever she's looking for is sold out in every size and color.

"A necklace with matching earrings, a 'Yankees Suck; T-shirt, and, ick, panties," he gives a repulsed expression and I wonder what kind of sicko she really is, sending her little brother to buy panties for her. And in a highly populated area, no less.

I can only come up with one logical definition, and that's revenge on him for making me break up with her. The whole snog-grope-sex cycle was old hat to me anyway. Now I wonder why I stayed with her so long when I could've been dating the boy standing by my side. I take his hand and drag him to the back of the store, secretly scheming against Cagalli.

"Y'know, Kira, Massachusetts is the only state in the nation that allows same-sex marriage," I say seductively as he browses among the jackets and sweatshirts, even though we have matching ones of the latter already. Glaring at me, he drifts over to the next rack, which is right near the women's clothing.

"Athrun, you should buy this!" he exclaims, brandishing a tiny spaghetti strap tank top at me.

"This would look good on you, Kira," I say, holding up a tank top with a notch in the low V-neck.

Laughing at our own bad jokes, we return to the front of the store. We end up with a camo shirt for me, that tank top (yes, I convinced him into buying is. Hehehehehe), the items his parents requested, a pink Yankee Hater hat (2) for Lacus and a real Yankees hat for Cagalli. Serves the vengeful bitch right for attempting to, and almost succeeding in, destroying my precious laptop.

Still beaming at how brilliantly evil I am, I follow him out of the store and into the bustling street.

"We have an hour and a half 'til the first pitch," he says, looking up from his watch as we loiter by one of the entrances to the park.

"Autographs!" I yell, snatching the mesh bag of baseballs from him. I give him the shopping bag in return, then hurry inside with the black Sharpie in my back pocket.

"C'mon, Kira!" I shout, waving to him over the crowds from where I stand on the ramp that leads up into the park.

"I am, jeez!" he calls, pushing people aside.

That's when I recognize the person standing nearby, looking up at the TV that hangs from the ceiling.

"Holy crap!" I mutter, frantically taking one of the baseballs out of the bag.

"Excuse me, Mr. Epstein, would you sign this for me?" I ask, running down to stand before him.

"Sure," he says, taking the two objects from me.

"Keep up the good work you're doing for the team," I say. (3)

"Thanks, I will," he smiles and hands me my souvenir, then I dart over to Kira.

"Look, look, look!" I yell, waving the ball in his face.

"Stop moving! I can't read it!" He grabs my wrist and pushes me back a little so the writing comes into focus for him.

"Wow! That's awesome!" he says excitedly.

"I know, I'm so good when it comes to getting autographs," I say smugly. We go up the ramp and into the park, the warm evening breeze blowing across the filed from behind us.

"Right out to center," I comment, half to myself, as we weave through the rows of seats down to the dugout.

While I'm sprawled across the top of it, pushing small children out of the way so I can have more room, he watches me from a row or two back, so he won't hurt his ankle again.

"You're not gonna lay there until the game starts, right?" he asks.

"Maybe, it depends," I call over my shoulder.

"They'll kick you out and let some kid have your spot, he says, quickly coming to stand beside me when the preppy girl leaves.

"She was getting a bit too close for comfort," he mutters, glaring at the blonde as she disappears.

"Too close for your comfort, right?" I ask, glancing at him. He grins, rubbing his shoulder against mine as he leans over next to me.

"You're so posses - Ortiz, over here!" I yell, flailing my arm around.

Everyone around me is doing a similar action, voices trying to drown out all the others. Kira starts yelling with me, waving the Sharpie dangerously and almost taking out the eye of the seven-year-old to his left. The big, good-natured DH for the Red Sox, David Ortiz, heads towards the dugout and, to my utter disbelief, takes the baseball and marker from us. We both blink in awe, looking stupid, as he scrawls his autograph on the white leather, then hands it back to me with a smile.

We beam at each other, then start laughing loudly for no reason other than our strange but amazing good luck today. I just happened to be the only one he gave an autograph to. The rest of the kids and teens are scowling at us, the younger ones crying, but I just grin and flash them the "V" sign. Since I'm feeling kind, I give up my spot, deciding two kick-ass autographs are enough for one game.

"The bet," he says quite randomly as we return to the interior of the park.

"Not today. I'll let you off easy 'cause you're injured," I say.

"Actually, it'd probably be easier for me to get on TV if I limp. They'll have sympathy for me," he says thoughtfully.

"That's why I'm calling it off for this game," I say with a shrug.

"You cheater! That's not fair! You should only have two because you flirted with that camera girl until she let you on!" he yells as we enter the concourse.

"No, 'cause I'm naturally hot. You're not naturally injured," I respond simply. I stand in line behind a chick in a cowboy hat, waiting to buy my overpriced food.

"You hungry?" I ask.

"Only if you're buying," he says, ducking under the rope that makes the line to stand with me.

"You're lucky, but I'm not paying for you on Friday!" I say.

"Oh, c'mon, you know you will anyway," he says, clinging to my arm and smiling up at me.

"If you keep acting so damn adorable, then yes," I whisper.

"Ahem," comes an annoyed voice from behind us. The guy shoves us forward, obviously grossed out by our display of affection for each other.

"Fuck you," I snap while Kira gets the food. He hates it when I fight with pedestrians, so I have to distract him.

"I'm sure you'd like to, you fag," the guy replies venomously.

"I don't like bitter, ugly guys like you," I retort.

"Athrun, stop it! I told you what I think of you doing that!" Kira grabs me by the arm and yanks me over to one of the picnic tables.

"But Kira, he called me a fag," I whine, "all I want is one punch, c'mon!" He rolls his eyes at my violent intentions, munching on some French fries.

"Feh, be that way then," I say, sulking as I take a sip of my Coke.

"Is there anyone on the Angels that we need to worry about?" he asks, trying to distract me from my anger.

"Vladimir Guerrero," I answer, still glaring at the bastard I was fighting with.

"Oh, right. Athrun, please don't be this pissed off. It's not a big deal," he says, his eyes begging me.

"You're just passive about insults," I'm feeling particularly stubborn, so I decide not to give in to his deep purple eyes and their helpless shine.

"Please! I won't go on a date with you!"

"You didn't have to go that far, jeez, I'm sorry," I snatch a chicken wing from him and grin, "but if I see that guy again, I'm hitting him."

"I give up, you're hopeless," he sighs.

"Thank you, I know."

The game ends just after ten, both of us smiling with satisfaction as we run across the dark parking lot, darting out of the way of cars trying to leave. I hum the bass line of "Dirty Water" and Kira sings the lyrics: "down by the river, down by the banks of the river Charles! That's where you'll find me, down with the lovers, fuckers and thieves. I love that dirty water, oh, Boston, you're my home!"

This scene is incredibly funny to anyone walking by because he can't sing for his life and I'm off by a few beats. But so what? We ended August by winning our seventh straight, twenty-one of our last twenty-eight, so why shouldn't we be happy? We stop at the side of the road, breathing had from singing and running at the same time, and wait to cross.

"Good game, huh?" he asks between breaths.

"Yeah, any game we win is a good one," I laugh. I take his hand and we go over to the other sidewalk, his head resting on my shoulder as we go towards the stairs that lead down to the street where we parked.

"Tired?" I ask softly. He nods and nuzzles against my arm, yawning.

"Don't fall asleep leaning on me like this! Wait until we get to the car!" I exclaim, shaking him awake. He takes the keys out of his pocket, his eyes still closed, and pushes them into my hand.

"You only get to drive this once," he says.

"Alright, and I promise not to wreck your car," I whisper. The branches of the trees above us sway in the cool wind, a few vibrant green leaves fluttering down from them. He lifts his head, rubbing one eye sleepily, "it's not that late," I comment.

"Yeah, but I was up 'til two this morning," he says.

"Doing what?" I ask, curious.

"Thinking about you," he smiles shyly and looks into my eyes, a slight flush on his face. I tilt his chin upwards and gently kiss him, a little gasp escaping his mouth. He presses his hands against my chest, my arms around his waist, "I love you," I whisper as I lay light kisses down his neck.

"Athrun, we're in public . . ." he sighs.

"I'm just doing what I wanted to earlier," I breathe against his warm skin, evoking a shudder from him.

"But I'll save the rest of the fun for later," I say as I pull him the rest of the way down the sidewalk to the car.

By the time I'm done putting the top up, he's already fallen asleep in the passenger seat, his lips parted as he takes quiet sleeping-breaths. I smile, turning the key in the ignition and put on the post-game wrap up show for the drive home. The lights of the city dance across his face as I drive through the busy streets, thinking about how happy I am for once. Now that I can be with the one I'm really in love with, everything else seems to be getting better as well. I know peace like this won't last, because there's still the issue of Cagalli.

"Oh gods . . ." my mouth hangs open in shock when as I take in the sight before me. I've just parked Kira's car in my drive way, since my parents refused to come pick me up from his house, I had to borrow his Corvette.

I stare at my Z3, which was safely parked in the garage, so how do I explain the words scratched into the sparkling silver paint? "You suck, bastard!" "Stupid fag!" "Asshole!" are inscribed on the sides and the trunk. On the hood, in fancy script red spray paint letters, it says "Love, Cagalli" with a dripping heart, making it look bloody.

"YOU BITCH!" I scream, slamming my fist down onto the roof of my now destroyed sports car. How am I supposed to keep my parents from seeing this? Namely my dad, really. My mom knows about me and Kira, but my dad will have a conniption. One, because I let my car get vandalized, and two, because I'm in love with a boy.

"I'm gonna beat the fucking shit outta you, Cagalli!" I yell into the night.

She's as good as dead. First my laptop, now my car, what next? What other items do I value? My eyes widen and I close the garage door, kicking off my sneakers and running up to my room. I push the door open hesitantly, almost afraid to see the interior. And for good reason: the glass of the door to the balcony is smashed, my comforter ripped open and the feather strewn all over the floor. The curtains have been torn off the rods and tied into knots, my bookshelf and CD rack tipped over.

Trying to contain my rage, I walk over to the desk and pick up the red piece of paper I find sitting among my shredded homework.

Dear Athrun-chan,

I hope you like what I've done to your car and your room. I think they both deserved my wonderful remodeling jobs. Have fun at the game with my brother? Good, 'cause it'll be the last one you go to.

Love,

Cagalli

I tear the note in half and throw it into the trash, falling to my knees and crawling over to look under my bed. The box I keep my Red Sox tickets in is overturned and totally empty. Not a single one still lies on the velvet covering on the bottom of the box.

"FUCK!" I scream, falling onto my back on the carpet. My gods, I'm gonna strangle her. My tickets. My tickets!

"My tickets!" I shout, wrenching at my hair as I choke on the sobs that threaten to escape my throat.

I don't even wanna look at my other rooms. They're probably in even worse shape. But I do anyway. I force myself to get up off the floor, no matter how much I want to lie there and scream, I go down the hall into my work room. The lock has been picked and the door swings open, revealing another scene of horrible destruction. All my spare robot parts have been thrown on the floor, all mixed together, and my blueprints have been scribbled on with various colors of Sharpie. Scratched into the surface of the desk with a screwdriver is a heart that says "A+C 4 EVER" inside of it.

I clench my fists so hard they turn white as I leave for the bathroom, preparing myself for lots of shattered substances. Both of the mirrors are smashed, the porcelain sinks cracked with what looks like hammer blows, the tile of the shower receiving the same treatment. The bathtub is full of a mixture of all of my shampoos, the empty bottles lying on the floor. I can't stand to see anymore. (4)

"MOM! DAD! GET UP HERE!" I scream, leaning over the railing and scowling down into the entryway. They both come running up the stairs and I point to my rooms one at a time.

"Cagalli," I say through gritted teeth.

My mom follows my dad into my bedroom and upon seeing the demolished objects, he says, "Lenore, call the Yamato household." She scurries down the stairs to get the phone from the kitchen while my dad surveys the damage, under my direction to the most important points.

"She took my tickets, dad," I say.

"Why weren't they locked up!" he yells.

"They were," I hold up the box and the mangled lock for proof.

The rest of that hellish night consists of a yelling match between Mr. Yamato and my dad while I pretend to sleep in the guest bedroom. I want Cagalli to be punished for what she did, but I don't want the Yamato family to have to pay for it. I don't think they can afford to replace everything that their demon spawn of a daughter destroyed.

I roll over and grab my cell phone off the night stand, on which sits a few of the other items I salvaged from the wreckage of my bedroom. I press the Kira cell phone speed dial button and pray for him to pick up.

"Athrun, I'm so sorry for what she did to your stuff! I promise I'll make her repay you for every single thing!" he cries.

"Kira, it's not your fault, don't get involved. Did she hurt you?" I ask quietly.

"No, I'm okay, she was locked in her room when I came home," he replies, his voice lowered a notch or two.

"No wonder. Wanted to look innocent," I grip the sheets in my fists, glaring up at the ceiling. I can hear Cagalli and her mother yelling in the background and I curl up into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest.

"As long as she didn't hurt you, Kira. Everything else is replaceable," I say.

"But it'll cost thousands!" he says, his voice getting louder again.

"If we're lucky, she'll have to pay every penny. I'm sure our parents will agree on something that'll amount to that."

I smirk at the idea of Cagalli having a job, doing something other than stomping around all day. I consider mentioning this to him, but just then, I hear my dad's calmed voice say, "I'm glad we could come to this solution," before he hangs up.

"I'm gonna go find out what happened," I whisper.

"Same here. Good night, Athrun-chan," he says.

"Sweet dreams, koibito." I slink down the hall to my parent's room and poke my head in, squinting in the bright light.

"So?" I ask eagerly.

"We're going to buy everything, but Cagalli has to get a job and pay us back for it," my mother replies with a smile.

"Yeah! Fuck yeah!" I yell, thrusting my fist into the air with triumph.

"Watch your mouth, young man," my dad snaps, but I can see the satisfaction in his face at the outcome of this ordeal.

"G'night," I say, shuffling back down the hall. I nestle into the blankets, smiling evilly at the thought of how pissed Mr. and Mrs. Yamato must be at Cagalli. But what the parents have agreed on doesn't fully suit me. I want revenge now, too.

"What happened? Please tell me!" Lacus yelps.

"Shhh, keep it down," Kira whispers. They're only trying to be quiet because I'm having my first confrontation with Cagalli since the incident.

"I'm sorry, okay? Take you goddamn tickets and leave me alone," she snaps, shoving an envelope at me. I take it from her and she folds her arms, glaring at the Yankees hat I gave her.

"You promise you won't take your anger out on your brother?" I ask.

"No, I won't touch your stupid boyfriend, happy?" she replies. Her amber eyes glint dangerously, but I can see the sorrow in them as well.

"Yes, thank you," I say.

The three of us watch as she vanishes into the crowds that flock the quad that day at lunch time. Lacus, for some reason, has decided to hang around us. Don't ask why she wants to be unpopular, but she is today. Her long pink hair is back in a simple ponytail which is pulled through the hole in the back of her Yankee Hater hat.

"Tell me the whole thing, Athrun," she demands.

"Can we go up on the roof? I don't want anyone else to overhear," I say. I take Kira's hand and Lacus follow us up the stairway to the roof.

"Wow! I never knew the view was so wonderful up here!" she exclaims, running over to the side to look out through the chainlink.

"See, if you weren't so busy being cool, you'd know," Kira laughs.

"Would you mind if I hung out with the two of you from now on?" she asks somewhat nervously.

We look at each other, surprised, and I nod, "sure, new companions are always welcome, right?" I say.

"Yay! Now tell me!" she sits down on the cement of the roof, her pleated skirt tucked under her knees, and we sit beside her, setting our backpacks aside.

"Athrun!" the door flies open and Dearka, Yzak, and Nicol run over to us.

"We heard about what that bitch did to your house!" Yzak yells.

"Oh, okay . . ."

"We want the whole story!" Dearka says.

"I'm sorry about this, Athrun, they made me come with them," Nicol says apologetically.

"It's fine, really, I was just going to explain to Lacus as well. Come sit," I gesture for them to join us and they throw their bags on top of ours, Dearka grumbling as he sits on the hard ground.

I'm just about to start when Kira says, "hey, I wonder how things went with Mr. La Flaga and Ms. Ramius?"

"You weren't supposed to mention that,"I hiss, smacking his forehead.

"No way! How did La Flaga get with Murrue?" Yzak says.

"One thing at a time," I sigh. Yzak and Dearka stop fighting and quiet down long enough for me to speak.

"Woah, whatta psychotic bitch," Dearka says ten minutes later, after I've told them of my destroyed property.

"How could you possibly be related to her, Kira?" Lacus asks.

"I've wondered the same thing," he says, looking quite ashamed of even sharing a house with her.

"And this was all because you dumped her?" Nicol asks, his eyes wide. I nod, then I realize I haven't told them who I dumped her for.

"You guys, I broke up with her so I can . . .Go out with . . ." the heat rises to my face and Kira looks away, his cheeks bright pink.

"Oh, we knew you two would get together eventually,"Yzak says, waving a hand dismissively.

"Yeah, Athrun, we could see you flirting with him when you probably didn't even know you were," Dearka snickers.

"What they mean to say is that they're happy for you," Nicol says, "and so am I."

"Thanks. So, from now on, Lacus is gonna be part of our group instead," Kira says, quickly changing the subject so we'll both stop blushing.

"Yes, I am," she nods.

"That means you have to stop being so polite, and act less girly," Dearka says, leaning close to her.

"But . . .That's how I am," she replies, pushing him away.

"Dearka, leave her alone. She can be however she wants. Don't you have your own girlfriend to bother?" I ask, grinning.

"Oh crap! I was supposed to meet Mir fifteen minutes ago! Bye you guys!" he yells, disappearing into the stairwell.

"Miriallia?" Kira asks.

"Yeah, the one on the field hockey team," Nicol answers.

"Feh, she's cute, if I liked girls," I shrug and leans back against the wall, my hands behind my head.

"Y'know who else should be in the Bitch Club with your sister, Kira? Flay (5)Allster,"Yzak shudders at the mention of her. I don't really know the girl, but I've heard rumors about her sleeping with 40 percentof the male student body, none of us included.

"Is it true that she's a hooker?" Lacus asks. I'm a bit surprised by her abrupt and rude question, but then again, she is related to me.

"I dunno. Some of the other guys on the baseball team said they've seen her wandering around the bad part of downtown in some pretty racy outfits," Nicol says quietly.

"And what were they doing in the bad part of downtown, hm?" Kira asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you suggesting that some of our teammates are class-A pervs? No way, never," I say sarcastically.

"Yeah, how dare you, Kira," Yzak says scoldingly. Lacus bursts out laughing, her hands over her mouth in attempt to make herself stop.

"I never talk about things like this with my other friends," she says between snickers.

"Well, this is all we talk about, 'cause we're guys. Get used to it," Kira says.

"Yeah, we talk about sex, sports, and we make rude jokes," I say. Yzak, Nicol, and Kira nod in agreement.

"All girls talk about is clothes, but you discuss things that are interesting," Lacus says, finally calm.

"Interesting? That's a polite way to put it," Dearka throws the door open and comes over to us, followed by a girl, her short light brown hair tied back into a ponytail.

"Hi, everyone," she says with a small wave.

"Miriallia, meet Athrun, Kira, Yzak, Nicol, and Lacus," he says, pointing to each of us.

"Now Mir, if Dearka does anything super-pervy, just tell me, okay? I'll beat the crap out of him for you," Yzak says, smirking.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself, but thanks anyway," she says.

"Welcome to the club. I think we all could," I say.

"SHUT UP ATHRUN!" Dearka shouts, flinging a rock at my head. I easily dodge it, but then he hits me with a random baseball.

"Ow, thanks for the concussion," I say, rubbing the lump on my head.

I can't help but smile though. This is how it always should've been: me and Kira together, with our little group of friends who have nothing in common besides being friends with us. Cagalli has been tamed by her parents, (took long enough), the Red Sox are on a winning streak, and, well, life is basically good . . .Or so I thought.

(1) -"I love Kira" in French

(2) - If you're wondering what they look like, just Google it.

(3) - Theo Epstein is the owner of the Red Sox and this scene comes from personal experience

(4) - I'm sorry, Athrun! It killed me to write this part. I feel so awful! Gomen x 1000, my bishie!

(5) - Anyone ever look up her name in the dictionary? It means to 1. whip or beat harshly 2. to strip the skin off of, such as a body or carcass.