A/N: A peace offering, my friends. I wrote this so fast, but I had to do it while I had the time. This is basically a bribe to make you all forgive me for not writing any Dearka/Yzak fics for such a long time, and for not updating my longer one (Status Pending). Apologies, and hopefully this tidbit is the start of a beautifully mended relationship with my wonderful readers. (Don't kill me please.)
Maybe it was the surrounding atmosphere. Maybe it was because Dearka had just confessed his feelings, there in the corner of their half-empty room. Whatever it was, the blonde was moving toward him with a sort of desperate hunger in his violet eyes, and Yzak shuddered in lustful anticipation.
"I've been transferred," the Buster pilot had said to him earlier that day.
The silver-haired Coordinator had recently stormed their shared quarters, fuming after a brutal row with Zala only to find that half his room was nearly vacant. When he'd demanded to know what was going on, Dearka had coolly informed him that he was leaving. In silence, the tanned youth had packed the rest of his meager belongings and shifted them into the hallway. A soldier at war didn't own much, and the duty had been carried out within minutes.
"But why?" Yzak remembered asking, his brow knotted in disapproval. "Why do you have to leave?" He recalled clearly the stiffness in his friend's muscled shoulders as Dearka gave his response.
The blonde had avoided eye contact and said, "I'm supposed to follow orders. That's why I'm going."
To Yzak, it hadn't seemed like much of an answer at all.
But now the taller male was making up for it. Somehow, Yzak had known it was coming. Maybe it was his astounding power of intuition. Or maybe it was just that he shared the same feelings. Dearka caught his gaze with those stunning violet eyes, and Yzak was rooted to his spot against the wall.
He remembered the Buster pilot's face the moment Dearka had come barreling back into the room after already taking his leave, shouting his name. His blonde hair had been disheveled, mussed as if he'd been running his fingers aimlessly through it.
"Yzak, wait," he'd ordered.
Yzak clearly remembered sneering. "Why are you telling me to wait? I'm not the one who's walking out." He'd wished he hadn't said it when the pained frown shot across his roommate's face.
"I want to tell you something before I leave."
Yzak folded his hands. Waited. "Well?"
Dearka had let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing his neck in an attempt to stall. "Er… It's not that easy, you see."
Yzak had lost it. The rage and misery he felt was opening a gaping hole inside him, and he wished the mouthy blonde would disappear quickly rather than dragging out the agony with his stupid antics.
"Elsman, if you're leaving, then leave, damn it, or else I'm going to throttle you and you'll be stuck here permanently." He hadn't thought it was funny how Dearka had gone so serious at the suggestion, muttering something about the threat not being "such a bad idea." And then he had spoken the words that had left the pale youth tingling.
"I care about you more than you could possibly know, Yzak," he'd stated. "I just wanted to be sure to tell you that before I… left." The blonde had only averted his gaze in the following lull, while Yzak's icy eyes had flown wide.
Maybe that sort of confession was what Yzak had always wanted from the cheeky Coordinator, and maybe that was why he'd given in so easily to the chain of events that had taken hold of his thread of fate in those next heated moments.
The blonde had suddenly seemed to swell with a burst of uncontrolled emotion, and he strode forward, catching the side of Yzak's face with a gentle hand and bringing his own face close. Their lips hovered inches apart, and the silver-haired male had wondered if this was the time to respond. Yet he hadn't – he had been frozen with shock, and so Dearka had hesitated.
"Christ, at least say something, Yzak."
The pale boy had realized that his fellow Coordinator was trembling. He could feel a jolt of excitement rocket through his chest, and it didn't take him long to muster a response.
"Are you going to follow through or not, idiot?" The resulting remark had left his tanned aggressor dumbstruck.
And now they stood facing one another, with Yzak backed against the wall and Dearka's hand still resting lightly at his cheek. He didn't know why he'd given his grudging approval, but maybe it had something to do with the pleasure he felt threaten to bubble forth at the look in his friend's violet eyes. In fact, Yzak figured that Dearka was feeling rather seduced - amusing considering he had been the one on the verge of doing the seducing just seconds before.
Yzak waited for the blonde to come to his senses. He did, and at once he was assaulted by the tanned male's firm lips and hurled into an abyss of pleasure at the warm sensation. Skillful fingers slipped through his hair, caressing him, savoring him, memorizing him. He realized why Dearka was doing it, and at once he pulled away from the chaste kiss.
"You really are leaving, aren't you?" he breathed. Then he heard the slam of the taller male's fist as it met the wall above his head.
"I wish I'd done something sooner," Dearka said, harshly, bitterly, and then he cursed. "Now I know you wouldn't have ripped my living lungs out for doing that."
"How were you supposed to know if you didn't ask me about it?"
The blonde looked as if he'd been struck. For a moment, he couldn't speak. "You clearly don't realize how damned intimidating you can be," he decided finally.
Yzak watched him through narrowed lids, and suddenly, it was very clear to him what he wanted. Maybe it was because of the way the dim light made the other boy's skin look golden and unearthly beautiful. Or maybe he loved Dearka back.
The silver-haired youth seized the collar of his adversary's scarlet uniform and hauled him forward until their bodies were pressed together. He wrapped an arm possessively around the tanned male's neck and melded their lips in one simple, fluid motion.
Dearka responded faster than he'd expected. It wasn't long before Yzak found himself held tightly at the waist as his kiss was returned, deeper than the first time. Pleasant shivers paraded through each of his arteries, and the blonde soldier sucked teasingly at his lower lip before calling a halt to the delicious activity.
Yzak leaned his head against the wall, focusing his blurred vision on the ceiling as he struggled to stem the flow of heat that had spread throughout his body. The kiss had stopped, but Dearka hadn't moved from his tempting position so close to him.
"I have to go," the tanned youth managed to announce, the calm of a soldier back in place once more.
A frown. "I'm going to kill you, Elsman," the pale boy exclaimed, ignoring the look of confusion that flashed across the other's handsome features. "Next time you have something like that to confess to me, do it in a more timely fashion."
A characteristic smirk curled the Buster pilot's enticing lips. "I'll try to remember that." He pivoted and made for the door a second time. "I'll be back, Yzak," he spoke in low murmur, "I promise you that."
Maybe it was the way his heart ached as the other boy disappeared, but Yzak was very sure he believed him.
A/N: This was written in a slightly weird style from how I usually write, but it's Dearka/Yzak nonetheless, right? Do I win? Am I forgiven? Oh gods please say yes…