Threads of Fate: Cute

Because Vashyron had a job, Zephyr took over training Leanne for a day. Nothing extraordinary happened at the practice range until near the end of the session. He demonstrated a running attack, ending it with a twisting somersault meant to both throw off the enemy and allow his weapon an extra fraction of a second to charge. When he skidded to a halt in front of Leanne she applauded, beaming like a child at the circus. Zephyr was, of course, too cool to simply accept her appreciation. Instead he cast his gaze down as he muttered one of his usual trash-talk phrases. "I've gotta get out of this rut."

Vashyron hadn't explained the concept of trash talk and its place in battle to Leanne yet. She took the comment literally, face falling as she apologized for wasting his time with her meager skills. Appalled, Zephyr hastened to assure her that he didn't mean she was the cause of his rut.

It was an even bigger mistake. Leanne, Zephyr discovered, was someone who, when faced with a problem, tackled it immediately. If one of her roommates felt like he was in a rut, she was going to make sure said rut didn't last the day.

When Vashyron walked into their flat after finishing his mission, he took one look at the fuming Zephyr and snickered.

Then he chuckled.

Then he out-and-out guffawed.

Zephyr growled, "Don't. Even. Start."

"Aw, but you look so cute!"

"I. Do not. Look cute."

Placing a hand against his hip, Vashyron canted his head to the side and studied the younger male, appearing to give the matter serious thought. His quirked lips belayed his solemn expression. "Well, maybe 'cute' is the wrong word. You look something, that's for sure."

Scowling, Zephyr tilted his head forward, meaning to use his usual trick of hiding his expression behind his long bangs. Red filled his vision, reminding him of why he was in such a bad mood.

"Y'know, you're going to have to learn to say 'no,'" Vashyron told him. Zephyr shot a sardonic look from under his not-cute red bangs at Vashyron's teal-blue jacket, so different from the black he routinely donned before they had a fashion-conscious female in the house. Smirking, Vashyron raised his hands as if forestalling criticism. "Clothes are one thing, but she's treating you like a dress-up doll. Remember the sunglasses?"

They match your jacket was all she needed to say for Zephyr to don the eyewear. He had actually liked the way the sunglasses looked on him. Unfortunately Basel's irregular day/night cycle made them impractical. The only thing worse than having darkness abruptly fall in the middle of a firefight was wearing dark lenses that compounded the effect. Zephyr flung the glasses off to better see the enemy. When the battle was over, all he could salvage was part of an earpiece.

When he explained what happened to her gift, Leanne insisted she understood. Zephyr still felt bad about it.

Perhaps that was why he gave in so easily today. When she dragged the red-and-black shirt from the rack and asked him to try it on, he did. And when she exclaimed over the new red spray-in hair dye and how it was the same deep burgundy as the shirt, he submitted to that as well.

Which was why he was now contemplating hiding in his room for the next two weeks. The dye was spray-in, but it wasn't wash out. According to the instructions, two weeks was the minimum amount of time it would take for the vivid red to wear off.

"What's it going to be next?" asked Vashyron, although the question had the ring of rhetorical about it. "New eye color every day? Holsters that match your pants?"

"Don't be ridiculous," grumbled Zephyr.

"I don't have to be, when you're playing the part so well."

Zephyr considered the merits of extreme violence against the older man for all of five seconds. "I upset her," he finally admitted. Since he refused to make eye contact, it appeared as if he was talking to the floor. "Over something stupid."

One corner of Vasyron's mouth ticked up. "Ah," he said, as if he understood perfectly. "That's a valuable life lesson learned. Upsetting a woman is serious business."

Exhaling strongly enough to blow strands of his (red) bangs around, Zephyr could only agree.