Takes place between Life Goes On stories Sora and the Forty Thieves and Law of the Jungle.
"This is, hands down without a doubt, the best time we've ever spent together, Az," Sora says with a wide grin, leaning back in his chair. One hand rests on his stomach, the other dangling loosely by his side.
"Not to mention the best part of wedding planning," the knight agrees, idly scraping her fork across the small plate that just a few seconds ago had housed a lovely cake sample. Chocolate something or other with some fancy kind of frosting. Fancy and delicious.
They sit at a counter in one of Disney Castle's smaller kitchens, all alone except for each other. The pastry chef, a rotund and very flamboyant flamingo with some nigh-unpronounceable name, had excused himself from the room to check on some of his other projects. Empty plates are scattered around the rest of the island, only crumbs remaining to mark their past existence.
"You sure we can't get that Chef Whatever guy to give us some more samples?" Sora asks, sitting up a little straighter. "Because I think Cake Number Four was the best one, but there was some serious heavy competition from that last one. Possibly a second opinion is in order."
Azlyn shakes her head. "Naw, I feel pretty good about what I got. And just so you know, it's Cake Number Two all the way."
The Keybearer makes a face. "Well, I guess that figures," he says after a moment. "You go right ahead and jump all over my least favorite. What's with that weird lemon intrusion thing or whatever? Makes it all too sweet."
"Too sweet?" he knight shoots back with a slightly raised eyebrow. "You, of all people, should not be allowed to go around calling things 'too sweet'."
Sora rolls his eyes. This is familiar territory for the two of them, Azlyn busting his chops over being "such a sap". It's never a fight he can really win, considering how much of a point she's got there. Still, he does have his manhood to defend.
"You're the one who, I remember, was all 'oh Sora, my best friend, be my maid of honor'," he mocks her, intentionally pitching his voice in a girly register that sounds more like Queen Minnie than his friend.
"Figures," she grumbles, shaking her head. "I do one nice thing for you, and you just decide to use it as ammo. Sometimes, I really question our friendship."
Sora's playful expression immediately drops, and he can see that it makes Azlyn feel bad. The boy can't help it though. Even though she's clearly kidding, just the thought of the knight doubting their bond…
"You're not exactly fighting off that 'too sweet' charge, man," she says, scooting a little closer and switching her playful tone to a more serious one. After a second of wondering what to do, she puts a hand on his upper arm. "Gee, I was just messing around. I would never question our friendship, okay? C'mon, what other guy would say yes to being maid of honor?"
"You're too easy," Sora says, a smile breaking through his pout. He can tell she doesn't quite buy that he was kidding, but that's hardly worth stressing over. "And I still think we haven't tried hard enough to come up with a different title than 'maid of honor'!"
"Oh, you tried plenty hard," Azlyn says, taking her hand away and leaning back. "Even had some good suggestions. But what can I say, I'm just an old-fashioned traditionalist."
That earns her another eye roll. "Yeah, that's the very first thing I think of when you come up. Old-fashioned. Immediately followed by 'don't piss her off'."
"So, what do we do next?" she asks, switching the subject to something a little less emotional. Looking at the clock on the wall, she chuckles. "We still have another twenty minutes before the redheads come in here and demand to know which cake we like."
Sora pats his belly, which he's clearly situated to bulge out comically. "Well, I don't know about you, but all this cake is threatening my sick bod. Whaddya say we jump down to the gym, go a round or two?"
"Not bad," she says, pushing her chair out. Sora is just getting ready to do he same when he feels a hard yank on his seat. He yelps in surprise, arms flailing to maintain his balance.
"Oh, real funny Az," he says, jumping off the chair and giving her an exaggerated glare. "You're paying for that on the mat."
"Big talk," Azlyn replies, backing up towards the door. "Let's see if you can back it up." A thoughtful look crosses her face for a moment, then it lights up with a smile. "Race ya there?"
Sora takes a step and stops, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful. Azlyn just watches him. "Well," he says after a second, slow and deliberate. "I guess…"
That's all the Keybearer gets out before springing to action, sprinting for the door and pushing past his friend. As he steps into the hallway, he can hear the knight's indignant cry. A few seconds later, the door swings open again, her footsteps clomping unsubtly. After a quick glance over his shoulder, Sora kicks in the afterburner, feeling the air rushing around him as he sprints.
"You are so gonna get it!" Azlyn yells after him, huffing and puffing as she springs into a strong dash of her own.
It's probably not very dignified, two seventeen year olds fresh from a wedding planning session having a race down the hallowed halls of a castle. But honestly, when has a little thing like dignity ever stopped the dynamic duo that is Sora and Azlyn?