A/N: Another anon-prompted drabble, delayed but delivered with several layers of angst and fluff!

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own any of Tales of Vesperia's characters for they belong to Namco Bandai.

"I was starting to think you'd gone back home."

There was slight relief in Flynn's voice, and Yuri didn't have to turn around to know he was smiling. "Believe it or not, I almost did."

Flynn stepped closer, watching the dancing crowd with mild interest and a roll of his eyes. "How kind of you to stay, then. Lady Estellise would have been upset to know you'd left without warning."

"Like she'd even notice." Yuri chuckled. "I'm pretty sure anything besides Rita has completely left her mind by now."

Indeed, occasionally a pink bun stood out from the sea of sparkling guests and swung along the music without rest. Rita, flustered, seemed to enjoy every second of her dance with the princess.

"What's so great about balls, anyway?" Yuri muttered under his breath, elbowing Flynn in the sides when he glanced at him with a sly smile. "You know what I mean."

Flynn snickered. "Well, it's entertainment. No match for our festivities back in the Lower Quarter, but at least they're less boring than official banquets." He paused, hesitant."Want to try?"

Yuri turned to look at him with a frown. "What?"

"You heard me. We might as well have some fun before you actually do run off."

"Let me rephrase: what?"

"Don't play dumb."

"I'm not dancing here." Yuri scowled.

"Backing down from a challenge? Doesn't sound like you."

"That ain't gonna work on me, Flynn, so drop it."

Flynn was far from giving up, however, and suddenly reached for Yuri's hand. Blowing a gentle kiss on its back, he smiled playfully and whispered: "Won't you join me for a dance?"

Yuri glared daggers at him – that was playing dirty. Several guests were already staring and while he usually didn't pay attention to them, he'd already been coerced into wearing this stupid, tight, knightly attire for too long to feel like a showcase trapped between golden walls and judgmental nobility much longer.

"Fine, you ass! That's last time you see me attending a ball ever again, though."

"Sure." Flynn grinned, not at all convinced. "I took a few lessons so just follow my lead and you'll be fine."

Reluctantly, Yuri took Flynn's hand and let himself be led into the crowd. Part of him expected everyone to stop in their tracks and scowl at him for stepping on the dance floor, but no one even spared him a glance as they made their way through the dancing guests. As if on cue the orchestra started playing a different tune, and step by step Yuri tried to follow Flynn's movements in slow, steady motions. Needless to say, it went all but smoothly.

"Yuri, you need to stop stepping on my feet on purpose!"

"I'm not. Your lead just sucks."

"And I suppose yours is better?"

Yuri grinned. "Exactly."

"Of course." Flynn snorted.

"Let me and I'll show you."

"What? Yuri, I'm not letting you lead, you barely even manage to follow the steps."

"Not my fault they're so complicated."

"It's a waltz, Yuri. There's literally no easier dance."

"Gee, Flynn, who cares?"

"Well, evidently you wouldn't. Just- focus on the music and follow my movements."

"I'd like to see you try. That collar itches and your lead's so stiff it's like dancing with a broom."

"Would you stop complaining already?"

"Hey, you bribed me into this."

"And I'm starting to regret this decision."

Engrossed in their bickering, both failed to notice the side glances cast their way by whomever happened to dance close enough to catch a hint of their conversation. The melody picked up again and so did their pace as they twirled among sparkling jewelry, marble walls and tapestries.

Eventually they found a suitable rhythm, their clumsy beginning fading into the semblance of a proper dance. One, two, three, one, two, three - and turn, and slide, and from the top. Swinging with more ease to the beat of music, Yuri followed Flynn's steps with swift grace once he became used to the pattern (he'd be caught dead before he admitted enjoying himself, though).

As the music changed to a slower tune, Yuri suddenly became very much aware of his hand in Flynn's, his grip so gentle and warm, their bodies so close he could feel Flynn's breath against his cheek. It triggered something warm and unknown in his chest, and it scared him. Muddling over such close contact went against all logic, he knew, since they'd always been like this. Privacy meant little when one became prey to poverty and cold, after all. He knew that, and yet...and yet he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter, a gentle warmth spreading at the thought of belonging right there, with Flynn.

It wasn't so much the realization as the ensuing stream of emotions flooding his mind that unsettled him. If it weren't for his hands locked with Flynn's as the dance just wouldn't come to an end, Yuri would've walked away and sought out the next best distraction. He recognized in his heart what had been hiding for many years and had finally fallen into place, but reason wouldn't agree just yet.

After all, what were the chances of them being returned, those feelings he had never asked for? He may have made peace with the idea of having finally caught up with Flynn, of acknowledging his own strength and worth, but was he still truly what his friend deserved? Someone like him? In all honesty, Yuri didn't feel like risking what they'd built over the years for the faint chance of furthering their relationship.

"Yuri? What's wrong?"

Flynn's concerned whisper startled Yuri out of his distraught thoughts. He must have absentmindedly followed Flynn's lead for he did not remember the steps that had led them to the back of the ballroom. Feeling a knot in his throat, he remained quiet for long enough that they almost came to a halt, but Yuri wasn't ready for Flynn's questions yet – he'd barely even found the answers to his own. Swiftly, he took advantage of Flynn's confusion to whirl them the other way around and back into the dancing crowd.

They ended the dance in tense silence, neither quite knowing what to make of the sudden heavy atmosphere. Yuri had leaned in closer to hide his face against Flynn's cheek, bringing their chests close enough for both to feel each other's heart beating fast. What had happened? Yuri himself hardly knew anymore. As far as he was concerned, Flynn had little reason to feel so nervous. Confused, worried, mad – yes, but were his hands supposed to be clutching Yuri's with such strength despite their slight shaking? Were his cheeks supposed to feel so warm, his breath to hitch or his heart to race?

Was he supposed to be so quiet?

The melody ended and all waltzing pairs slowly came to a halt, dancers bowing to their partner as they began to clear the way for the next dance. Flynn didn't move or let go of his hands, however, and Yuri finally looked up.

He'd expected everything from angry glares to questioning looks, but never the storm of conflicting emotions that reflected in Flynn's eyes. They were so bright, so incredibly blue in the golden glow of the chandeliers that it took Yuri's breath away. He might have been imagining the watery shine, but what struck him was the frustration creasing his brows that betrayed just as much inner turmoil as Yuri felt in this very moment.

Overwhelmed, he tightened his grip on Flynn's hand and without a thought for their fancy surroundings, hurried to the empty balcony.

Cold autumn chill seeped through their clothing, a harsh contrast with the confined heat inside. Too many thoughts sizzled through Yuri's mind the second he realized the implications of their escape, of his behavior and most of all, of Flynn's odd silence. As if burned by the thought, he let go of Flynn's hand.

"Sorry. No idea what got into me." he murmured, turning his back to his best friend. A quiet, sinister voice in the back of his mind wondered if he'd just destroyed that.

Flynn didn't answer for long, painful minutes. Yuri remained still, unable to turn around and scared – scared he'd made the wrong move again, scared he'd screwed it up and let another misunderstanding drive them apart. He felt strangely cold in the darkness, the ghost of Flynn's fingers over his lingering still.

Yuri had already steeled himself for the worst when he felt warmth wrap around his hand again, firmly, and Flynn turned him around so quickly he barely had any time to protest. There was fire in his eyes as he leaned in closer and Yuri's back hit a wall.

"Don't apologize. Anything but that."

If he didn't know better, Yuri would have sworn Flynn sounded desperate – small, as if on the verge of shattering to pieces. A single thought, so slight and unlikely, fought its way back to his brain. It lit a sparkle of hope deep within him that try as he might Yuri couldn't smother anymore, not with his heart aching for answers more painfully than ever before. Could it be that Flynn, too...?

Perhaps it was the two glasses of expensive champagne that drove Yuri to draw a short breath and bring their foreheads together, staring into Flynn's eyes like nothing else had ever mattered. Perhaps it was the reason why he read the very same question in them, a question they both seemed to know the answer to. It was all a matter of time, of seconds, before they made a critical move.

Tension built up as Flynn carefully moved forward and they inched closer, looking for the slightest opening. Yuri sneaked a hand to Flynn's hip, freezing time when it slid up and behind his back to pull him even closer, slowly, gently, a touch so light yet clear in its meaning. An invitation.

Flynn understood, lifting a hand to the back of Yuri's neck and drawing shivers on bare skin. Yuri followed, and with a small turn of his head their lips were but a simple breath away. A haze of passion and fear of the unknown hung in the air, hovering for a split second before they met halfway – finally, finally – and desire took hold of their minds.

Yuri's eyelids fluttered close as he let himself be overwhelmed by Flynn's lips, his scent, his touch, his everything. He was the world and the world was him, there and then and forever a part of himself. The spark of hope in his heart burst in a flare of fireworks, bliss swelling up and threatening to consume him whole as he couldn't focus on anything else.

When they broke apart, dizzy and breathless and happy, Flynn smiled. Small at first, it quickly bloomed wide, a bright grin so full of joy it hurt his cheeks, one that Yuri couldn't help but mirror. No words could ever hope to convey their feelings properly, yet both knew merely by holding each other close.

"Guess my lead wasn't so bad, huh?" Yuri laughed, feeling light as a feather.

Flynn nudged his shoulder but chuckled all the same. "Keep telling yourself that." Suddenly he seemed to realize there was a world outside of theirs and shivered as he stepped back a little, immediately missing Yuri's warmth. "We should head back before Lady Estellise starts to think we've both deserted her."

Yuri shook his head. "Believe me, that's the least of her worries right now. Besides..." his lips curled into a smirk, "Dressed up like that, I'd love to help you out of that tight armor."

While most flirting usually went over Flynn's head, this time there was no mistaking the shade of red adorning his cheeks. "Y-Yuri, this is proper imperial regalia! It takes time and care to take off and I can't just ditch-"

He was cut off by Yuri's lips sealing his shut, melting away any further protest. Their second kiss was a different kind of passionate, sweet and soft, the gentle longing for more than a wildfire. Yuri found Flynn's hand again and twined their fingers together, grinning against his lips.

"Geez, shut up."