Title: Play of the Fates (12 of ?)
Author: Paola
Disclaimer: Play of the Fates is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.
Historical figure/s used is/are for literary purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.
The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S
This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.
Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.
Play of the Fates
Chapter Twelve
The other night, she had dreamt that she was being chased by the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland for the strangest reason that she refused to grow up and leave Neverland. Last night, she dreamt that she and Athrun were making the best use of her too soft bed. And tonight, she was praying to all the gods she knew to make it so that she was only dreaming about being in the same lift as Athrun, who was just now pocketing his mobile phone and realizing that he knew one of the people in the elevator car.
"Why are you here?" she hurriedly let out before he could begin speaking. The disbelief in her voice was so obvious that the other guy in the elevator stepped away from her. "I'm sorry," she indifferently directed at him, her disposition completely different from when she greeted him a while ago.
"Uh…no…it's all right," the guy, who was illegally keeping a pet in his apartment — pets weren't allowed in their apartment complex — replied, choosing to leave the elevator as soon as it reached the next floor even though the button he pressed earlier was for a different one.
Athrun laughed when the steel doors closed, leaving Cagalli and him the only ones in the lift.
"You think that's funny? Guess what, it's not! Why are you here anyway? This is my apartment complex! It's my freaking sanctuary! You're everywhere I go, do you know that?" Cagalli's mouth was running a thousand miles per second, and the volume with which she was expressing herself was rising at about the same speed. "I mean, c'mon! Stop stalking me, for heaven's sake!"
All this while, the amusement on Athrun's face continued to grow, and he didn't even bother to hide the grin that was threatening to split his face in half.
Cagalli was never known for her patience. Her own father had warned her that her temper would someday get her in trouble — and it already had a couple of times before — but with Athrun smiling like he knew something she didn't, coupled with her tremendous effort to banish the dream from her mind, her fuse had gotten shorter than a candle's wick. "What?!"
"As fun as 'stalking' you is, I've decided to take a break."
Cagalli looked puzzled as she couldn't get her mind to wrap around his sarcasm quick enough. "What?" she asked, now honestly confused.
"I know somewhere in all those papers regarding the deed of ownership of the car lies your address, but I never once looked you up. Believe it or not, I'm just as surprised to see you here."
Cagalli regarded him skeptically. "No, you're not."
"Just because I don't go ballistic like you do doesn't mean I'm not surprised." He had the gall to smile.
When he shook his head, Cagalli noticed the champagne bottle he was holding, with the red and gold ribbon tied around the bottle's neck making her wonder why she hadn't noticed something so festively bright earlier. Oh.
Athrun noticed where Cagalli was looking, and as if to emphasize that he wasn't stalking her, he raised the bottle and uttered simply, "Party."
As expected, an embarrassed blush crept up Cagalli's cheeks. Prying her eyes away from the bottle, she almost winced at the words that next came out of her mouth, "Ah…sorry…" And trying to neutralize her embarrassment, she tried her hand at small talk, "House party?" Then she noticed that she sounded like she was fishing for an invitation, so she hurriedly added, "Not that I'm trying to be invited." She almost hit herself when she realized that, now, she sounded all the more like she was trying to get herself invited because, really, that was the last thing on her mind, especially since it was Athrun she'd be going with. "Forget what I said."
"It's Dearka's housewarming. I take it you didn't know here's his new pad."
Cagalli thought she could detect his overly careful insouciance over mentioning the blonde golf player, but then again, that might just be her imagination. She shrugged it off. "Oh…cool. Tell him I said — er — welcome…?" Dearka hadn't mentioned anything to her the last time they saw each other, but that was probably because they hadn't had time to properly talk.
"Why don't you tell him yourself?"
"No!" She seemed almost as surprised as Athrun at her violent reaction. "I mean," she retracted, "I mean, I'm not invited…and I have somewhere to be." When Athrun smirked like he'd won a contest she didn't know they were participating in, she felt a slight prickle of alarm.
"So you really were fishing for an invitation, weren't you?" Then he glanced sideways at the button she had pressed earlier. "Rendezvous at the rooftop?"
"N—" Cagalli started to say, but stopped to reconsider. "Yes, actually." He didn't need to know that she would just be out for fresh air, and if she made known that she was meeting someone, then he'd leave her alone. She just hoped he didn't notice her slip.
"Oh? Who?"
Cagalli almost choked. The way he delivered that proved he didn't believe her fib, not a single letter of it. To admit that she was lying would be admitting defeat; to answer his question, even when it was obvious that he wasn't buying it, would be falling for a trap; and to tell him off for supposedly butting in her business would be fueling his amusement. There was just no way to win in this kind of situation. The smartass…
She almost sagged in relief when Athrun's mobile began ringing because it saved her from answering.
"I'm already in the lift," Cagalli heard him say. She adjusted her coat and pretended she wasn't listening in on his conversation, which was a bit hard to do since it was only the two of them inside the elevator car.
She wasn't a self-conscious girl, never was, and it never failed to astonish her how Athrun could make her feel just that. Just a glance her way and she felt all prickly and conscious, like she should have dressed better, combed her hair more nicely, and a whole slew of other things. It was maddening, and she'd decided long ago that Athrun wasn't healthy company — he's just too sexy for his own good. Yes, even if she hated his guts, she wouldn't deny that he was easy on the eyes. She bet he'd had a thousand girlfriends whose little hearts he'd broken with just a casual wave of his hand and a delicate kiss on the cheek. The bastard.
"Hey, Dearka, I'm bringing someone."
Cagalli, upon hearing that, whipped her head around so fast, she felt dizzy at the movement. There wasn't anyone else in the elevator car, and she was painfully sure that he was pertaining to her. And by the sly smile he sent her way, she knew she was far from being mistaken.
Athrun, ending the call, returned her stare, quite comfortable to just be eyeing her and not saying anything, and when the lift dinged to announce his floor, he smiled a slow smile that sent a chill up Cagalli's spine.
He stepped out of the lift and raised a hand to keep the steel doors open. "Dearka's party was originally planned to be held at the rooftop, not quite a housewarming get-together, but very Dearka. Unfortunately, there's construction work up there. It's closed." He licked his lower lip and cocked his head to the side, almost a mocking gesture that made her blush from the tips of her blonde hair to the toes of her feet. "Did you know?"
The tiny bells that was tinkling a while ago in her head as a warning to stay away from baiting Athrun were now ringing so loudly as a reminder how everything went wrong in the span of a short time. Cagalli almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of her situation, but she would never let Athrun know that, and with no other ammunition to bombard him with, she narrowed her eyes at him and hoped that he knew how much she hated his guts right now.
She knew she had lost, devastatingly so that he didn't even call on her fib the moment it flew out of her mouth and he recognized it as a lie, and her skin prickled at the thought of him doing that. If she'd stayed rooted to her spot and ignored him, that would be all the more admitting that she lost; on the other hand, if she came with him, it would be some sort of challenge on her part; the problem was, she was just telling herself that to console her pride.
Marching out of the lift, she sniffed as haughtily as she'd read in a novel once.
"I take it you're coming with me?"
She could hear the laughter in his voice.
"Fuck you."
Athrun didn't hold back his laughter any longer.
o-o
The party was going strong, the music was blaring, the alcohol was pouring, and testosterone was high in the room, telling him that by the end of the evening, no single female who came to his party would be leaving without a man trying to rip her clothes off. This was the kind of parties he liked, these loud, obnoxious shindigs that loosened up everyone's inhibitions. If he hadn't the good sense to have his new pad soundproofed once he'd settled, there would have been policemen banging on his door right about now for disrupting the quiet. It helped, too, that he owned the entire floor.
Dearka smiled flirtatiously at a girl who dropped by the drinks table, and he felt a stupid rush of male pride when she blushed, more so when he remembered that this particular girl was attached. He'd known it before, that he was a bad drunk — he flirted with just about anybody when his tolerance for alcohol was reached — but that didn't stop him from drinking until he was seeing double, especially on occasions when he was really allowed to, like tonight, since it was his own party and he could make a mess of it if he wanted to.
By the large French windows that gave him a perfect view of the city, he could spy Lacus and Kira, offensively sober when they weren't supposed to be since it was he who was hosting. But of all the females he knew, there was something in Lacus that was absent in everyone else that he couldn't quite corrupt, so, naturally, he kept his bad habits to himself when around her, even staying a decent distance from her whenever he was a little too tipsy. He supposed he could get a special pass to heaven when he died for being respectful to a saint.
"Saint Lacus? Just…exactly how much have you drunk?" Yzak appeared beside him, refilling his champagne flute and looking every inch the stuffed shirt Dearka dubbed him as.
"Did I say that out loud?" Dearka laughed. "But don't you agree?" One of the things he prided himself in was that his drunkenness did not preclude a certain lucidity to his person. He'd talk Plato anytime with anybody, notwithstanding his level of inebriation, and he bet he could even out-argue Athrun's outstanding faculty for understanding the ramblings of ancient philosophers.
Yzak chose to ignore his question, which sounded rhetorical anyway. Returning his attention to his champagne, he looked at the various bottles of liquor and fruit juices available on the table, grimacing at the mess of choices in front of him. This was the main reason people got heavily drunk in Dearka's parties — there were too many available mixes and no professional bartender that people got off on their own mixes, creating concoctions that were sure to get them wasted three ways from Sunday.
When he spotted the bottle of port, he uncorked it and proceeded to pour a shot in his glass, satisfied to be able to find a decent cocktail mix. Bringing the flute to his lips, he played with the flavor of Nelson's Blood in his mouth before he returned his attention to Dearka, who was jumping from one topic to another. That was the other thing about Dearka when he was intoxicated: not only did he flirt with everybody, but he also talked more, which was bad since he was already talkative when he was sober.
Yzak was a tad surprised when Dearka swiped the flute from his hand, finishing his Nelson's Blood in one gulp and even having the gall to grin cheekily at him. "You know, with the right lighting, you almost look like a woman. You're very pretty, Yzak."
A vein throbbed in Yzak's forehead. Dearka must really be drunk off his rocker that he was even trying to hit on his own best friend, who was a guy and should not be talked to like how the blonde was talking to him right now. He clenched his fists but kept them glued to his sides. It wouldn't do to knock the living daylights out of Dearka during his housewarming party, even though the blonde deserved it. But now that he thought about it, drunk or not, Dearka always found it amusing to take a jab at his sexual orientation, no matter how many times he drilled in the blonde's head that he was straight, no curving paths at all.
Dearka smiled suggestively at him, and it behooved Yzak to take a deep breath and count to ten before speaking, "I'd stop drinking right now, Dearka, if I were you."
The tone with which he delivered that was so sinister that it managed to penetrate Dearka's fuzzy head. The last time he ignored that kind of tone, he found himself nursing a broken nose and looking up at an incredibly irate Yzak towering over his fallen person. As if sudden clarity diffused the alcohol in his system, he backed away from Yzak. "I'll go get me fixed up."
Yzak watched the linksman swagger towards the kitchen, noting the barely noticeable stumble that told of Dearka's insobriety. He gave a sigh of relief. That asshole was a horrible drunk, but at least he knew now how to lift the spell alcohol had woven in his system, unlike in college when Dearka's cure for drunkenness was to drink more so he'd pass out.
Yzak grabbed the bottle of port again, only to realize that it was already empty. Seeing no other similar liquor on the table, he cursed. No more Nelson's Blood for him tonight. Fucking Dearka.
o-o
Cagalli opened Dearka's fridge in search of something sweet to snack on, easily finding a small bag of M&Ms. When she thought of how much she had needed some kind of distraction to fend off the effects of her dream last night, she didn't think she'd be in Dearka's apartment, which hosted a too loud party that she couldn't hear herself think. She supposed it was a fine distraction, but the bad part was that it boasted of free-flowing drinks, too. That was why she was in the kitchen — she wasn't just in search of food; she was also hiding from everybody else who might have it in their heads to strike up a sottish conversation when she hadn't wanted to attend a party in the first place.
As soon as they'd reached the steel doors, tarnished by design and slid easily along hidden rollers on the floor, she'd considered turning away, giving up on Athrun's unvoiced challenge because she was finally realizing she might not have enough energy tonight to deal with Athrun, but Dearka had slid the door open at the exact moment she made to leave, and in a blink of an eye, she was surrounded by a pair of tanned arms and pulled across the threshold. She'd known then that, as she was exuberantly welcomed by a too happy Dearka, she wouldn't be going anywhere else tonight.
Popping a few colored chocolate tablets in her mouth, she almost instantly felt better. She closed the fridge door and leant against it. Dearka had a very nice apartment, too big for just one person, but just enough to house the golfer's luxuriant lifestyle and big ego. She didn't get to see the entire flat yet as there were already many people when she and Athrun arrived, but by what little she did see before the onslaught of energized bodies dancing to party music, she could tell it was the bachelor pad that every man like Dearka would kill to have. Cagalli looked around the modestly spacious kitchen. That was why this room surprised her; she didn't think that that man had a homey side to his personality.
It was a very cozy enclosure. In the middle of the room, a long polished dark wood that didn't brag of any carving, nor gilt, nor glass, served as the main dining table, its legs made of varnished tree stumps. The two long benches that flanked the length of the table were made of the same wood and polished the same way, both without backrests. The cupboards and cabinets bore the same dark color with some sort of abstraction carved on each panel. She'd run her fingers over them a while ago, and the grooves were smooth and easy on the touch.
The room was painted a soft mustard yellow, interrupted by a selection of multicolored matted square and diamond tiles that started a foot from the burnt umber granite countertop to about a meter in height. The dominant color continued after the tiles, reaching the terracotta-colored moldings that connected the yellow walls to the cream-painted ceiling. A Christopher Poehlmann New Growth chandelier hung from the ceiling, its muted yellow lighting taming the fluorescent scones on the wall. All the appliances, even the two-door fridge she was currently leaning against, were all grayish silver in matte finish. Everything described a person who wasn't Dearka, but she supposed that underneath that playboy persona was a simple laidback guy who wouldn't mind living in a farm house. She shuddered at the idea — that was so unlike the Dearka she knew.
The kitchen was empty of souls except for her, almost as though the homey atmosphere warded off the rowdy people, which was just perfect for her. She'd lost Athrun to a sea of friends who'd wanted to talk with him earlier, and she'd been doing a good job of evading him since then. Although, now that she thought about it, it didn't seem like he was actively seeking her anyway for if he were, he'd have found her already. And Dearka, she'd lost his company the moment he'd gone off to greet new visitors. She'd been talking to his friends, but had to excuse herself when they offered her drinks, knowing full well that going down that alley was a dangerous thing to do, especially when Athrun was in the same room. So here she was, munching on M&Ms in Dearka's warmly designed kitchen.
The wooden sliding door — Cagalli detachedly wondered if all the doors were the same — that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house swished open, breaking the relative silence and making her wince as the noise from the outside seeped in. Looking up, she saw Dearka stumble slightly before catching himself. "Close the door, will you? I'm not much for noise tonight."
He looked up, slightly surprised at seeing her cooped up in his kitchen. "Hey, love, what'ya doin' here alone?"
Cagalli watched as Dearka moved towards her, his gate steadier, although the glassy look in his half-lidded eyes declared that he'd had one too many shots of alcohol. "Avoiding drunk people like you," she lightly replied, popping another M&M into her mouth.
"You should be partying like rockstar!"
Cagalli rolled her eyes. "That's a song."
"Hm?" He hummed the song playing outside as he made his way towards her.
Cagalli neglected to clarify. "Why are you here?"
Dearka chuckled, "Aside from the fact that this is my kitchen and I can come here anytime I please? Water."
"You're weird, you know. People eat to ease their drunkenness; you drink water," she smiled, raising her head to meet Dearka's gaze as he leant an arm on the side of the refrigerator she was leaning on, trapping her between himself and the fridge.
"To each his own, sweet cheeks." His free hand reached for the other door, opening it for a fraction before closing it again when Cagalli laughed, carelessly unguarded around an intoxicated man who could overpower her any second. "You're awfully relaxed, love."
Cagalli heard the sticky clamp of the fridge door closing by her ear before what Dearka said registered in her head. She laughed again. "Whatever you're thinking, yeah right, Dearka." If there were one person she would never be afraid of, it would be this golf player who was breathing down her neck, no matter how drunk he got. They'd been friends since college even though they went to different universities and lived in two very different cities.
Having met at a frat party Dearka's fraternity was holding, they had instantly clicked, and if it weren't for a certain event that had Dearka cursing the Fates three ways from Sunday then and had her laughing every time she remembered it now, they might have stuck with each other. But it turned out that they were better off as friends. She herself didn't think she'd be close with a guy like him who was a natural playboy in his spare time and an amazing golfer with a big ego in his working hours.
Dearka pressed a kiss on the soft spot below her ear. "Are you not afraid that I'd do something to you?" He moved to place another butterfly kiss on her cheek, then her jaw.
Cagalli rolled her eyes, not the least bit bothered by Dearka's overly familiar actions. She wound her free hand around his neck, tugging at his hair to put a little distance between their faces so she could look him in the eye and laugh at his behavior. "Elsman, if every time you do this and I get afraid of you, you'd be facing a restraining order. If you were sober right now, you'd remember that we've had this kind of conversation before. Five times, if I remember correctly, with you reeking of alcohol." She playfully scrunched her nose. "Besides, you know I'll take away your chance of ever having children if you pulled something funny."
Dearka grinned a Cheshire cat grin, shaking loose of Cagalli's easy grip by dipping his head and bringing his mouth closer to hers. "Will you really?"
"You bet," Cagalli smirked, challenging and telling Dearka with just a small curve of her mouth that she'd pegged his behavior and knew him well enough, but when Dearka kissed the side of her mouth, the stubborn glint in her eyes dulled and the hand that was loosely embracing the golfer and playing with his hair stilled.
"Let's not assume, shall we?" And he took her by surprise when he kissed her smirking mouth, the hand that balanced him against the fridge now cupping the back of her neck to get a better angle.
Cagalli's eyes widened, suddenly alarmed, a muffled gasp leaving her lips. Dearka seemed to think of that as a good opportunity and snuck his tongue in, tangling it with Cagalli's and forcing an involuntary moan from the both of them. She effectively forgot to live out her earlier threat.
She knew he was a good kisser, but being kissed by him this way was something she didn't think she'd experience again. It was drunken, it was a little sloppy, and it was inexplicably hot, casting a heavy force on her eyelids and making her close her eyes. She could taste the alcohol in his mouth, and she dropped the bag of chocolates in her surprise, faintly hearing the clicks of the hardened M&M shells against the floor. There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind telling her to step away because this was Dearka and they didn't do this kind of thing. Not anymore. But her legs just wouldn't cooperate; however, when the sound of a sliding door, mixed with the brittle sound of chocolate shells making a mess on the floor reached her ears, she gained her bearings, and she pushed Dearka off her, her eyes automatically landing on the trespasser. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and her mind was still reeling that she was unable to speak.
Dearka, looking as though he had just realized what he did, blinked at the sudden shove. Then he immediately regretted his actions, the haze of insobriety hanging around him abruptly dissipating.
Noticing her diverted attention, he followed her gaze, his eyes landing on a certain friend who was looking too calm for someone who had walked in on something intimate. He shook his head to clear his mind, then nodded towards the trespasser.
"Athrun, man, here to get water as well?"
xxxxx
To those who read Today is the Tomorrow We Promised Yesterday, we have to get you AthrunCagalli fluff. And fast! (And thanks for reviewing and/or reading)
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