"All right! I got it!" Nicol's excited voice rang out over the loud curses from Dearka. "I hit it in. That means we win again, Athrun." He shot the older Coordinator an adorable smile.

The azure-eyed youth grinned back. That was three times in one night they had beaten the other two ZAFT pilots. Dearka tugged at his hair in agony, staring at the place where the eight ball had been until moments before.

"Damn," he muttered, "I just don't understand how you two pussy willows always beat us at pool!"

Nicol laughed, a sweet, tinkling sound. "Maybe if you and Yzak had worked as more of a team…"

"Dearka's fault," Yzak insisted with a grumble, fuming in the corner and twirling his cue stick with a menacing air.

The blonde shrugged. "Don't blame your terrible shots on me," he said smugly. "I had nothing to do with that striped ball that went flying into the air, or all those god-awful scratches."

Yzak seethed. "Arrgh! Shut up, you bastard." Then he whirled, stretching for the triangular rack and slamming it onto the table. "Fine! Let's play again," his cool blue gaze settled on Athrun, who hadn't yet said a word. "I'll beat you this time, and then you'll see who's really better at pool."

"Feel free to hang around and take practice shots all night, Joule," the tanned pilot of the Buster yawned, "But it's late. I'm wiped."

"I'm tired too," Nicol agreed, "And tomorrow the Commander has assigned us another training session." He headed wearily for the rec room's door before turning back. "You coming, Athrun?"

"Sure. Just a second."

Dearka and Nicol were already out of the room. Athrun remained, clearing out the pockets of the worn pool table before hanging his cue stick back up on the wall. He moved with complete grace, lithe body gliding through the dimly lit room with ease and practice. Yzak leaned coolly against the wall, arms folded over his chest, watching the blue-haired boy with contempt through narrowed eyes.

"I wish you'd quit looking so smug," the silver-haired youth spat after a time, staring the other boy down with a twisted sneer. "It was only a pool game, so don't be too proud of yourself."

Athrun blinked. "I know that. I wasn't aware that I looked so smug." Then, "Sorry. I wasn't trying to make you angry."

Yzak's eyes widened as the remark reached him. He hadn't expected any sort of apology from the azure-eyed boy. He took a sudden step forward.

"I wasn't asking for an apology," he growled, "I was just telling you to stop being so arrogant!"

Athrun massaged the back of his neck with a sigh. "Look, Yzak… Do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Difficult?" the pale Coordinator echoed. "Difficult, Zala? I think you're just frustrated that I can see right through you."

The look that registered on the face of the Aegis pilot was dangerous. "You couldn't possibly begin to know me if you tried, Yzak. Stay out of it."

A triumphant sneer etched itself onto the other boy's face. "Touched a sore spot, did I?" Athrun didn't answer. "Serves you right for thinking you can best me at everything. I want a rematch. Right now."

The blue-headed boy strode wordlessly to one side of the pool table in irritation. "Why can't you ever be satisfied?" His enthralling eyes locked the silver-haired Duel pilot to his place as he lifted them and gazed across from under thick lashes.

"I'll be satisfied if you play me one more time."

Athrun shook his head. "I'll tell you what, Yzak. We'll do it my way, and if I beat you then you have to stand down."

The pale youth regarded his adversary with suspicion. "And if I win?"

The other boy shrugged. "Then it'll be whatever you want. Gloat about it to Dearka and the others, I don't care." A mischievous glint reflected in his stunning eyes. "But I wouldn't bother thinking about that possibility now if I were you. Wait until you actually beat me."

"Oh, I'll clobber you, Zala, you can be sure of that." The words were out of his mouth before he had allowed himself to ponder the proposition.

"Then we agree?" Athrun watched him closely.

"Yeah. Let's go." He picked up the rack that the azure-eyed boy had hung up just moments ago.

Athrun held out a hand to stop him. "We won't be needing that," he informed with a hint of a smirk. "Put it away and get the eight ball out."

"What?" Yzak exclaimed. "We're just going to try to hit the eight ball? What kind of game is that?"

"You really shouldn't be complaining," Athrun replied, amused. "I'm letting you go first. All you need is one good shot and you'll have beaten me."

"You're making this too easy for me, Zala." He positioned the innocent eight ball in the center of the green felt surface, eyeing it skeptically.

Athrun chuckled. "Don't be too sure of victory just yet." He motioned to one of the cue sticks at the wall. "Let's see you take your first shot, and then we'll talk."

"Have it your way." Yzak scooped up the black cue stick, positioning it with precision at one end of the pool table. Leaning over precariously, he squinted one eye and lined up his shot, aiming for the left corner pocket.

"You'll never get it in if you hold it that way," came the sudden piece of advice from beside his ear, as Athrun bent down to whisper to him in a low voice. Yzak's hand slipped as he flinched in alarm, and he watched in utter horror as the eight ball trundled along in a straight line, ricocheting off the table's edge and coming to a stop in the center where it had first begun.

"What the hell was that?" Yzak exploded in a rage, whirling around to find Athrun mere inches away from him. He backed up hastily, only to find he was caught between his opponent and the table. "What did you do that for, you bastard?"

"I was just trying to give you a piece of advice," came the smooth reply. "You want to win, don't you? It isn't my fault that you're so on edge."

Yzak grated his teeth together. "I am not on edge. It's just your imagination." Despite his words, the silver-haired boy had indeed felt his heart leap the moment Athrun's breath had tickled the nape of his neck.

"Give me that," the blue-haired boy demanded coolly, and Yzak handed over the cue stick without a word. Much to his surprise, Athrun did not proceed to line up a shot of his own. Instead he extended his arm and spoke.

"Now give me your hand," he commanded casually.

Yzak grimaced. "What? No chance. What are you going to do?"

"Just trust me," came the easy response, low and smooth like melted butter. "Come here. I'll show you how to do it the right way."

It was as if the shocked pilot of the Duel possessed feet that had minds of their own. Before he could think, he found himself at Athrun's side, his hand resting lightly in that of the opposite boy, his heart beating with pulses too quick to count.

"Like this," Athrun drawled, turning him around and slipping his other arm about the silver-haired boy's waist in order to reach the cue stick. He placed Yzak's hands over the end of the contraption, deftly moving his own slender fingers until he was sure the paler youth's hands were positioned correctly. "Fingers straight, wrists slightly bent. That's how it's done. Now take the shot."

"It's your turn," Yzak reminded him, trying hard to ignore the way the other boy's hair had brushed against his cheek.

"Just take the shot, Yzak," Athrun insisted, moving away and retreating to the far side of the room.

The silver-haired youth hesitated. He had no reason to trust Zala's instincts, much less submit to the older boy's instructions by doing as he was told. Nevertheless, he struck the ball hard and watched passively as it rolled near the left corner pocket, missing by mere centimeters. He cursed.

Athrun chuckled lightly, the light from the single dim bulb above the pool table catching his midnight hair and making it glimmer. "Did you think you'd get it on the first try? Still, it was nicely executed. My turn." Although he had been standing beside the rack of cue sticks, he stepped up to lift the black one from Yzak's limp fingers.

"Hey," the young Coordinator protested. "Get your own."

"No thanks. I think I like this one."

Yzak balled his fists. "You bastard." He watched as Athrun took his shot. The blue-haired boy looked genuinely surprised when he missed, but Yzak raised an eyebrow with a disbelieving air. "Please don't tell me you were actually trying just then, Zala. I know you better than that."

"You're right," Athrun surrendered, "I wasn't. But I'd rather keep the game going for a while then watch you crash and burn right from the get-go."

Yzak simmered. "Oh, that's it. You're really asking for it, Zala. I don't need any sympathy from you. And no more helping me. I'm going to beat you on my own." Athrun burst into a bout of laughter, something Yzak had rarely seen the serious boy do. "And just what is so amusing?"

"Nothing," Athrun managed to choke out between fits, "Nothing, really. I'm sorry, please continue."

Yzak's face darkened. "You're despicable."

Athrun ceased mid-chuckle. "What?"

"I really can't stand you," Yzak murmured, running a hand through his silken locks with unease. "You drive me crazy, the way you're always like this. Taking the upper hand no matter how hard I try to bring you down. Always the superior one, aren't you? I ought to hate you for it." His voice was bitter.

"Don't you?" The question held a tone of surprise.

Yzak turned his back and focused on the green felt tabletop. "I don't know." He heard Athrun shift, and he stiffened. "Stay where you are, just give me that stupid stick. And play like you mean it, damn you."

Without a word, Athrun obeyed. Yzak gripped the smooth wood tightly, aiming this time for one of the side pockets. Even if he missed, with luck, it would ricochet at the right angle and land him a win. He pulled back the stick and took the shot. It missed.

Athrun fetched a second cue stick from the wall and moved with speed and accuracy. The eight ball slowly rolled into the far right pocket with a bump, and the blue-haired boy straightened.

"There."

"So what," Yzak spat, "So you beat me again. What did you expect? I'm sure you're very pleased with yourself."

"You could have beaten me if you hadn't gotten so worked up."

"Who's worked up?" Yzak gritted in a huff. "You're kidding yourself if you think I'd get worked up over a match with someone like you." His heart fluttered wildly.

Athrun made his way over to the boiling youth with perfect composure. "You speak one thing, but your body feels something completely different, doesn't it?"

Yzak started. "Wh-what? I…"

His mouth was suddenly seized in a controlling lock, claimed by the succulent lips of the azure-eyed youth before him. The feeling of warmth was enough to set him reeling with ecstasy, and the feeling of his adversary's muscled body pressed tightly to his own drove him close to mad with heat as he was backed into the rec room wall. Athrun's tongue eased out and his lips parted, making the pale youth weak with desire. The blue-headed boy boxed him in, exciting him further as he let his talented fingers slip through Yzak's shimmering hair. The hot-tempered youth moaned with pleasure.

Athrun released him, a triumphant light in his brilliant eyes. "I knew it. You couldn't take it."

"D-damn you," Yzak panted, resting his head against the surface behind him for support as the steaming kiss was ended. "Why'd you stop?" His body was positively aching.

"Then you liked it."

"Too damn much," he answered before he could stop himself.

The two remained silent for a moment, and Yzak desperately tried to regain his composure, along with whatever dignity he had left. He gulped shakily, noticing with displeasure the heavy blush that had risen to his cheeks upon the moment of contact.

"You fucking bastard," he shot, finally reclaiming his sense of balance and moving away from the wall. "How dare you!"

"I'm sorry," Athrun grinned mildly. "Did I catch you off guard?"

"You're disgusting," Yzak managed to respond. "Think of what Dearka and Nicol would say if they knew their team leader was playing games with his subordinates."

"You're in no position to make empty threats," Athrun reminded him, smirking in conquest as Yzak remembered the game's outcome and cursed. "You lost to me. And you're losing to me now, too."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Zala."

The blue-haired youth closed the gap between them in one confident stride, reaching over to tilt his quarry's chin upward. He met Yzak's icy blue eyes, penetrating deep into the other Coordinator's soul with his own azure orbs.

"Admit it." A command.

"Admit what?" Yzak demanded, weakening as the seductive touch of his enemy made him shiver with longing.

"Admit that I'm winning right now, too," Athrun persisted in a low voice, "Because I have you completely caught. You're losing your control, Yzak. It's not hard to see."

"Stop flattering yourself, Zala," he forced himself to look nonchalant. "I never said I wanted you."

Athrun ran his fingers teasingly down the side of his opponent's neck. "But you do. It's written all over your face. And you're letting me win," he whispered, "Because you haven't done anything to convince me that I'm wrong." He watched as Yzak squinted his eyes shut in agony. "You couldn't resist me if you tried." The blue-haired boy finished the speech by delivering a hot kiss to the tender skin just above his adversary's collarbone, pausing to suck lightly at the spot. Then he stopped as he felt Yzak's hands close painfully on his shoulders, and he drew back in surprise.

"Maybe I can't resist you the way you said," the pale youth gritted, "But I can sure as hell still beat you. I can make you want me just as badly." He could tell that the azure-eyed boy hadn't expected the sudden retaliation, and he sneered upon realizing that Athrun couldn't speak. "Touché, Athrun Zala," he spoke sinisterly, before shoving the slender boy down on top of the pool table with relish.

In a flash Yzak had straddled him, leaning down to claim the silent boy's lips with a rough force that left Athrun gasping for air when he was finally freed.

"What do you have to say now, Zala?" His smirk was victorious.

Athrun reached up and linked his arms around the silver-haired boy's neck, pulling him down for easier access. "I'd say," he murmured into the paler boy's ear, "That this competition is just getting started." He silenced any potential response that may have stemmed from his adversary's mouth with a searing kiss that rocked the other boy to his core.

Yzak let his lips part as Athrun's tongue slid deliciously into his mouth, working its way deeper, all the while drawing pleasurable gasps from inside him as the sensation grew more potent. He fought back valiantly, returning the growing feeling of lust with a seductive bite to Athrun's lower lip. He shifted his hips ever so slightly and let his own tongue penetrate the cavern of his opponent's mouth, filling him with passion until Athrun let out a tempting moan of pleasure that set his spine to tingling with wanton desire. The allure of the slender body beneath him was nearly too much to handle, but to his astonishment, the blue-haired Coordinator yielded first.

"I want you. Right now," Athrun breathed as the allure of the pale boy above him worked its magic.

"That was fast, Zala," Yzak snickered. "Will you give up the win so easily?" He drank in the sight of the flushed boy beneath him, his sleek lines, matted hair, eyes glazed and laden with heavy passion. "I thought you'd fight harder than that."

The azure-eyed youth turned his head to one side, exposing his enticing neck as he spoke in a husky voice. "So did I," he mumbled, "But you're better at this than I though you'd be."

The look on Yzak's face could have lifted him to the clouds, had they not been confined inside the rec room of the Vesalius. "Hah," he burst out. "That'll show you to underestimate me. I win. And to think I beat you at this. Just look at you! You can't even take it."

"Please, Yzak, just shut up for once and kiss me again."

The silver-haired Coordinator smirked in conquest. "I don't think so, Zala."

Athrun groaned. "Why not?"

"Because then you'd be the one in the lead again, by getting what you want, and I'm not giving up the lead so easily." Yzak watched passively as the blue-haired youth ran a disappointed hand through his tousled locks in vain. "You'll have to fight me for it some other time if you want it back," he stated.

The other Coordinator sighed. "You can be so cruel sometimes." He sat up and leaned forward, kissing Yzak gently on the lips, but lingering only for an instant. "Fine. You've officially won this round."

"It…it was your stupid eight ball idea," Yzak said at once, "So it's your own fault if you're disappointed." He removed himself from the table and made his way to the rec room door, stopping just long enough to look back.

"Let's play again sometime, Athrun Zala."