Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed and Gundam Seed Destiny.

A/N: Mmm... The Gundam Seed section isn't what it used to be so thank you very much anon, hira-nera, Xx Meisha xX, and Fllay Fan for taking the time to review my story. :D

" " for speech
Italic for flashbacks, thoughts, and opinions.

I apologize for bad grammar. LA LA LA Enjoy.

**Note: As to all my fanfics, calling an older woman/man— Auntie or Uncle is merely a sign of respect. This does not necessarily mean their blood-related in any way.

Cucumber & Cantaloupe: Chapter 2

Spinning... Twirling... Twirling...

Having woken-up by the irritating crack then click of the door for the nth time that lousy morning, Dearka Elsman remained listlessly sprawled on the itchy carpeted floor for about a full ten minutes, staring— steadying his vision to the abnormal dancing chandeliers above until he sat up with a slouch, finally getting sick of the motion.

"God, what hit me?" He felt like crap.

Oh yeah, the beer. Or at least, he blurrily recalled it was the beer as he massaged his aching head with one hand while the other travelled along his collar... or the lack thereof because it just occurred to him that his shirt was ripped wide open and was now missing more than half of its red buttons leaving behind his semi-exposed, semi-bruised, but still very sexy chest.

Dearka stared down at the damage for a while, his brain slowly processing to it.

Realization…

Reaction…

Almost there….

Dearka gasped, and then he shifted to his left and then right panicked as if lost, confusingly, inside his own condo unit. "What attacked me? Where am I?"

"Oh good, you're up."

Saving Dearka from any further mental stress, Miguel Aiman appeared before him at the counter that separated his kitchen from his living room. ... Err... This was— his kitchen and living room, right? Because Dearka wasn't really sure right now with the massive headache, the trash scattered all over, the disarrayed furniture, Kira knocked out on the sofa, Rusty snoozing on the floor, and whoever that person was painfully sprawled on top of the dinning table—all jumbled into one.

"You want some water?" Miguel offered.

Dearka nodded his head assert and weaved his way to the kitchen. Once he was there, Miguel handed him a mug. He drained it instantly, and then briefly gave the supposed extravagant looking room another brief scan.

The place reeks like pigsty and it turned out— there were several more others knocked out inelegantly all over his pad. And Dearka wondered through the mist of alcohol clouding his brain—actually, it was more like a dense fog—if he had invited them all. It was deuced forward of them to have come if he had not.

He turned to Miguel. "What happened here?"

The blond threw him this look as if he was some poor sad-sad boy. "You don't remember?"

Dearka creased his forehead. To be strictly accurate in the matter, all he could remember was— yesterday had been the end of his wistful bachelor life.

"You threw one heck of a party last night."

"I did?"

"You did." Miguel shrugged. "It was crazy, I tell you. Dance off, strip poker, hilarious secrets. There had been so much alcohol that we didn't even know what to do with them." Miguel snickered. " You should have seen it though. Hiene, he ev—"

Dearka eyed the other blond with a frown of concentration. It was now twenty minutes past eight in the morning. Now that he came to think about it, he does somewhat recall throwing a house party after first getting all drunk himself. In fact, he could blurrily recall Yzak had been there with him, putting up with his rants.

Wonderful. Now, he remembered. It was right after his mom had stabbed him with news that she had signed him up for one of those modern matchmaker things.

Why his mother would even bother baffled him to no end. Why should a fine young man such as himself be forced to go through the rest of his existence attending pre-dates with matrimony in mind? It was not logical. ... Okay maybe one day. Not yet— he was only twenty-three! And it's not like he was socially aloof that he's unable to find dates on his own; on the contrary, he's practically the greatest piece of action that ever happened to this stuck-up neighbourhood slash University. In fact, he already has more women than he knows what to do with.

Oh, and not to add for the sake of bragging but... Women would kill just to go out with him. Yep. That's the life of being Dearka Elsman.

Probably someone like Yzak might need the social help, but definitely not him.

"... In fairness the guys been trying to get Yzak drunk the whole night, but sadly he's got Flay fending them off like they were some married couple or something..." Miguel went on.

This made Dearka frown. Strange. And since when was his pal, Yzak, hand in glove with Flay Allster? But the alcohol in his system decided better to leave it at that.

"Still can't remember?" Miguel frowned down at him then sighed. "Here, maybe this would refresh your memory." He said, sliding out and showing him a photo print from one of those Polaroid cameras then Holy Voltaire! Dearka stared at it, impulsively snatched it off Miguel, and stared at it some more as if he wasn't sure the photo was real.

It was a picture of him and Miriallia Haw making-out!

It was a picture of him and Milly making-out!

It was a sobering thought—literally. Dearka felt as he climbed into bed as if he had progressed straight from deep drunkenness to the nauseated, head-pounding aftermath.

"But how? When!" Dearka stressed.

Miguel poured himself another glass of water, taking his time, it wasn't a big deal to him. "She jumped on you last night. You two were all over each other that we had to pull you guys apart to keep everything rated PG."

"What!" Dearka's eye bulged wide. He couldn't believe it. "So you're telling me— I just had the fantasy of my life and I don't even remember it!" One of these days he was going to renounce drinking!

Miguel spared him the sucks-to-be-you shrug.

Then before long, that irritating door cracked and clicked again.

Miguel dangled his half-empty glass over the counter. He gestured to the door. "And there goes your fantasy."

00000

Down the emergency stairwell. Out the front door.

"Milly, wait!" Dearka sprinted after the girl whom was toting a large bag down the sidewalk on her way home. The girl didn't stop though; instead she began to quicken her pace, ignoring him on purpose.

"Milly!" Dearka continued to follow her. "Milly, please stop!" He tried again. And considering how Dearka Elsman hadn't bothered to change and still looked like he was mugged and molested that morning, people around were starting to leer.

A few more steps, he called Miriallia by her nickname again and again. That's when Miriallia Haw apparently had reached her limits.

The short haired brunette turned around, looking affronted. "Gad! Would you stop calling me Milly!" Only her close friends were allowed to call her that! And since their at it already... "What Dearka, what do you want?" Miriallia spat, rolling her eyes.

Finally falling into step with her, "This." Dearka dangled out the photo of the two of them in front of her. "Explain this to me." He said with a hint of hopefulness in between panting breath.

Miriallia took a quick glance at the photo then she frowned. Unlike him, she had better luck remembering what had happened last night. "Oh that, what about it?" She calmly asked right back at him.

Dearka flipped the photo over so that it was now facing him. He frowned as well. "You were all over me last night." If Milly had any romantic feelings for him... well... she had never given that hint of encouragement.

"So?"

"So? You know I'm crazy about you, right? Why not go out with me?"

Miriallia shook her head. "Dearka, I was drunk. It was only a make-out. Don't put so much context into it. I can't be held liable for my actions when I'm drunk."

The girl hailed for a cab, successfully. But Dearka had prevented her from going anywhere by securing her arm.

"No, that can't be right." Dearka shook his head, refusing to believe her. "If it hadn't mean anything then you could have pulled just about anyone else, but it was with me whom you made out with. Me."

Duh. "Coincidence maybe?" Miriallia raised a brow at him; then she glanced down once then back up again. "By the way, your zipper's open."

Instantly, Dearka dropped all attention to his fly. It wasn't. But when he had realized this, Miriallia had hopped into the taxi and it hurled away.

00000

Two nights later.

Dearka leaned on his elbows and tapped his free fingers on the armrest, bored.

He ought to have not come. Or even better, he ought to have rebelled against his mom from the beginning— except that she had threatened to cut his allowance which wasn't really fair.

Short honey-brown haired girl, wearing a bright blue dress, huh. Dearka glanced around again after forty minutes of waiting. So far, no one in Hôtel de Le Creuset fit his mother's description of his date.

Maybe the girl chickened out. Wallflower girls were like that. Dearka snickered to himself. He'll wait for the miss for another twenty minutes and if she's doesn't show up then, he's out of here— free and off to the bars to pick up some real hot babe. And it wouldn't be his fault.

Then again, he spoke too soon because, shortly afterwards, a girl with short honey-brown hair in a bright blue cocktail dress entered his vision. A notable beauty. And she was going the wrong way fast!

Dearka quickly got off his chair and intercepted her before she could dash out the double doors.

"Milly, are you her?" He asked enthusiastically, after having skillfully cornered his prey to the wall.

Miriallia Haw, the girl in blue, looked up at him with the back of her hand hovering under her eyes. She took one calming breath before— "what are you talking about? I'm here on a date." And she really did look surprised to see him, but Dearka disregarded this matter.

"What a coincidence. So am I." Dearka grinned and made a mental note to thank his mom after this.

"I'm serious, Dearka, get off. I'm seeing someone right now. You'd be surprise because he's tall, dark, handsome—"

"And blond?" Dearka's lips curved into a playboy smirk.

"No. Bald!" Miriallia corrected, looking up at him all serious and what's this, hurt?

Dearka's expression fell instantly, turning into concern. "Are you crying?"

Still cornered, Miriallia turned away and rubbed her obviously red eyes with her wrist. "Of course not."

He gently brushed her hand away from her face. "You are!" He confirmed. "I swear- who ever did this to you, I'm going to beat the crap—"

"Ahem. Dearka Elsman?"

Dearka felt the taps on his shoulder so he turned around. A petite girl with honey-brown hair in a blue dress stood behind him, looking at him, them, all pissed and angry. Uh-oh. And so forth, the next thing Dearka knew— the small girl had threw a hard slap on his face before running out the building in tears.

Both Dearka and Miriallia stood there stunned at what just happened, and so did the rest of the people in the vicinity who saw.

"Who was that?" Miriallia gaped.

"Apparently, my date..." Dearka replied, lifting a slow hand to massage his sore cheek. Mental note to self: don't thank mom.

"Hey, aren't you going to go after her?" Miriallia asked, lifting a cynical eyebrow.

This made Dearka turn his attention to Miriallia again, his hand not leaving the mark that was now starting to red. He looked confused. "You mean me? Why would I do that?"

Miriallia rolled her eyes at the obvious. "Forget that I asked. It's so like you after all." She scoffed, pushing her way pass him.

He let her through, but Dearka was now more confused than ever. "Like me? What did I do?... Milly. Oi, Milly!"

Miriallia strode out of the building, she meant to go, as to her original intention. And similar to the other day, Dearka followed her right out with no ifs ands or buts.

"Okay, forget me." Dearka grabbed hold of Miriallia by her arm. "Where's your date? Where's this tall, dark, handsome, and bald?"

Miriallia looked like she was about to cry again. "He's gone, okay?"

"Gone? What do you mean- gone?"

"Gone as in— gone, disappeared, vanished, MIA." Miriallia glared but her eyes were more hurt than angry. "It was a blind date. We had so much in common and we were having so much fun— or at least I thought we were until he excused himself to go to the washroom and never came back!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." Miriallia huffed. "It's not like you care anyway."

Dearka compressed the hand on her arm. "But I do. And I care about you a lot! What makes you think that I don't?"

"All your women." She answered.

And Dearka felt his entire being just got slapped with realization.

"Is- Is this why you never gave me a chance?"

Miriallia eyed away, guilty. "Maybe."

"I see... then I promise I won't do it again!" Dearka eagerly took both Miriallia's hand into his, and gave them a pleading squeeze. "Would it be possible to start over? Please say- yes and have dinner with me tonight?" Dearka smiled, just slightly, at her. "You can shout at me, call me an idiot, then dump me, if I ever cheat on you?"

At this, Miriallia shook her head, but she was smiling.

00000

Snooping outside the hotel with binoculars in one hand and a mobile phone on the other, and with Yzak Joule as escort, the long-haired lady that was Dearka's mother smiled approvingly while listening to Flay, who's currently situated at another place, giggle through the phone. "How do you like my work so far, Mrs. Elsman? Julia and Arnold were pretty convincing, weren't they?"

"Wonderful, darling. Just wonderful." Mrs. Elsman giggled as well. "For a moment, Tad and I was starting to worry that our Dearka was going to end up alone and seeing all his friends get married and be happy when he's still that single friend 'til he hit forty so thank you, Flay, for the service. ... Of course, feel free to let me know if you need any favors."

The line disconnected.

Beep. Beep.

This time, it was Yzak who reached for his phone.

From Flay, 'I'm right again ;p. I'm counting on you to handle the talent fees, okay? Thanks!'

He snapped it back shut.

Lowering down the binoculars, "You know..." Mrs. Elsman began, thinking while curiously looking up at air. Then eventually, she lifted two fingers to her chin in the exact same mannerism and poise— Yzak swore— Dearka unconsciously does when his up to no good or attracting his women.

Yzak's face paled slightly at the uncanny resemblance. "Auntie?"

The lady smiled. "Take the advice of a dear friend of your mother, darling, and ask Flay to find you a nice girlfriend as well."

**.