manik_semiramis (manik_semiramis) wrote in endless_future,

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After a Loo~oong Lag...

Title:  O Sweet Reminiscence
Claim:  Athrun
Theme: Set #1, Theme #12 Father
Genres:  General
Pairings: None
Word Count:  281
Rating:  PG

When Athrun found the time to muse, it almost always turned to his father. It didn't always start that way, but some errant thought would lead the way and he would follow, knowing. Dreading. And even with that constancy, he couldn't stop.

Because the Patrick Zala he remembered wasn't the monster set on destroying the Earth. He wasn't the Chairman, always in control and sure and certain on every decision - even the wrong ones. Not the fanatic with a skewed perspective on Coordinator superiority.

He could still smell the well-marinated steak cooking on the grill. It was a frequent occurrence in the Zala household back then, his mother laughing in the background as she poured homemade lemonade, ice clinking from the pitcher into the glasses. Lacus was an old friend even then, and he often played with her and whatever new toy either one had obtained. His father set down the tongs in his hand, and turned away from the grill to pick up his son and swoop him through the air in the way only a loving father can.

He could still see his smile, kind and warm and caring.

Because wasn't that the Patrick Zala that should be remembered?

He hated how he had so many memories like this, precious moments that grew rarer after Bloody Valentine, and even more when he left for the Academy and his father became first a member of the Plants Council, then a Chairman. Yet they were there, chains that bound him in guilt, each link precious, strong and unyielding.

Wasn't that the Patrick Zala he had hoped to see again?

And he had killed him.

Gods, he had killed his father.

Title:  Coffee, Anyone?
Claim:  Athrun
Theme: Set #1, Theme #1 Meeting
Genres:  General
Pairings: eventual  Athrun x Yzak
Word Count:  322
Rating:  PG-13

What would you do if the first time you met the great Athrun Zala, you spilled hot coffee on his pants?


Did you apologize?

"Zala!  Don't get in my way," Yzak snarled, flushed with embarrassment at his own clumsiness.

Apparently not.

It wasn't a surprise that he knew who the blunette was.  He despised him from a distance, always ranking just above him, always better at everything.  Disbelief through pain greeted him the when wet green eyes of his unwitting victim looked up to meet his those of his unintentional offender.

God, this was almost the perfect way to start the day - once one got over the embarrassment.  He got to meet his rival (although the other boy was certainly unaware of this dubious honor) and he got to spill hot coffee on his pants.

Whether red from the heat of from fury at Yzak's audacity, he didn't know, but he had never seen Athrun that color before.  Pink, maybe, but never that hotly flushed color. 

Actually, he had never seen Athrun look anything except sickeningly kind and gentle.  Firm on maybe one or two occasions, but such cases never required this much emotion.


And Yzak found that he liked this.  "You heard me, Zala.  Or are you too busy fluttering those pretty eyes at your fanclub?"

"Damn it!  Who the hell do you think you are?" Athrun stood, nevermind the pain radiating from his lower half.  He fisted a hand into Yzak's uniform, and the silver-haired teen inwardly crowed in delight to see that even Athrun hadn't yet mastered control over the influx of adrenaline and the unpredictable tides of testosterone.

He liked this a lot.

He leaned forward, smirking instead of snarling, until their noses touched and his vision was filled only with green fire.

"Yzak Jule.  It's good to finally meet you, Athrun."  Behind him he could hear Dearka sigh in exasperation.

Now, it was perfect.


Athrun's channeling Yzak in this one, but he can't be perfect-model-soldier all the time, right?
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