Fandom: Gundam SEED
Rating: PG 13
Notes: For the deayza community's 20 themes. I forget which one this is. I also have not watched DESTINY, therefore... please presume that this is sometime in the (far, hopefully-to-happen) future... Kind of idealistic, methinks...
Blue eyes scanned the scattered bedclothes, and the shivering body rolled over to one side of the large bed. Slowly, his vision slid to focus, and he could see the details on the tanned face of his best friend.
A distinct flush found its way over the tanned skin, and a layer of perspiration made Dearka's skin shine in the dim light of the room. His hair was tousled- blonde strands escaped the holds of any form whatsoever, the gel usually applied absent. Yzak would've laughed at Dearka, if he hadn't been too worried, if Dearka wasn't suffering silently there, if circumstances were different.
"You're so stupid," Yzak mumbles, as he reaches over and takes away the gel pack that had already heated up, and replaced it with a new one, carefully perching it on Dearka's forehead, making sure it wouldn't fall off.
There was no slick, semi-sarcastic reply, the kind that was reserved for keeping him calm and yet teasing him at the same time. Instead, Dearka frowned in his fevered sleep, and turned towards Yzak's hand, following it till he was too far, and the tanned soldier was sleeping on his side, waiting for either the hand to come back, or just-- waiting.
Yzak sighed and turned away, looking at the clock next to the sparsely-decorated table.
Looking around the room, Yzak simply... stared, and tok in everything. He had been in Dearka's quarters more than once, but usually, it was only in the living room, or sometimes, in the bathroom, or kitchen. But he had never been to the bedroom, really.
The living room and the ktichen were both the same, sparsely decorated, held all neccessities, but neat and well-designed, at least colour-wise. He supposed, it was smart to not have too much decor, but Yzak's house itself was quite... luxurious, for lack of better word.
The bathroom had been more comfotable, with a nice rug, and a large tub, with numerous bottles and other paraphernalia- he didn't really stick around long enough to check anything.
But Dearka's room- it wasn't much different from the kitchen and the living room, simple, but comfortable- cosy, in all the colours of burnt siena and orange and brown, small and organised, something he hadn't really expected from his old... friend.
He supposed it was from the frequent absence that the house was so sparsely decorated, and so damn practical, but it just made him wonder... How much had really changed in all the years.
"Do you suppose we'll all come out of this war alive?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" He snapped back, not-really surprising his friend. "Of course we'll come back!"
"But... all of-"
That had been the one and only kiss that had started everything, this twisted relationship, the intimacy that was overshadowed by desire to cling onto friendship, and hesitation to lose anything... and the proffessionalism that pushed anything out of the scene, including ,them.
Looking at his friend, whose hazy eyes stared, but did not see, Yzak cursed under his breath for his helplessness, and at his friend for being so damn reckless. Covering Dearka's eyes with the wet, cool cloth, Yzak took a mouthful of water and bent down to give Dearka his medication.
"You're so stupid."
Staring disdainfully at the sleeping man, Yzak rolled his eyes and continued his tirade, for once having nobody to stop him, or calm him down.
"What d'you have to go and spend three days straight out in the rain for? You're not in training anymore, asshole. You're the fucking Captain, dammit-- there's nothing for you to fucking prove to any-fucking-one!
And now I have to sit here and wait for you to wake up. I don't know why I'm even staying here. We all know nothing's gonna happen to you. Dammit, I'm gonna have a motherfucking large load of paperwork to do after this--"
"Can you keep it down?"
Yzak was cut off abruptly, as a soft, moaned sentence ended his
"Please. Shut. Up." Dearka added, his voice a hoarse moan, as he lifted a hand to massage his nosebridge, scrunching up his face at the obviously horrendous headache he was having.
Yzak frowned, pursing his lips and glaring at the tanned soldier, fighting to keep his tongue in check. But seeing Dearka's look of utter pathetic-ness, he sighed and bent over, a small crease between his brows as he changed the gel pack over Dearka's forehead, running his hand over flushed cheeks.
"Hmph." He smoothed the bedclothes, and checked the cool gel pack one more time before speaking again. "Just this once, I'll listen to you-- but just this once, 'cause you look pathetic--"
Yzak retreated from the kiss, his cheeks scarlet as he recovered from the shock of the (literally) fevered liplock.
Dearka's brows knitted together as he recovered from the sharp pain caused by Yzak's loud (even if slightly muffled) shout of surprise.
"If that's how you're gonna be, I'd really rather not kiss you, then." Dearka moaned, turning over to his side.
Yzak harrumphed, and glared at the back of the blonde head, before giving a sigh, and half-rolling his eyes (partially out of sarcastic habit, really- he wasn't that childish enough to retort to someone who couldn't hear/ see it.) and removing his shoes, sitting on the bed, and lying down next to Dearka, slinging an arm around a covered waist.
Voice low, and barely over a whisper, Yzak leant close to Dearka's neck. "Fine. But don't think this is over."
Closing his eyes, he burrowed closer, and finally let the tiredness of the past days spent worrying (though of course, he wouldn't admit it) overcome him, as he slipped into slumber.
Author's Notes: I am a dork. Thank you. This is my first (real) GSEED fic, and I would like to apologise for any errors. Thank you. Rotten vegetables would be... anticipated. *sigh* >.<
Um... be kind enough to tell me if I should even bother trying to write non-angst? >< C&C Appreciated muchly.