Author's note: Hello, blinkie here again! I thought of this fic while driving to school. This version is a simple comedy. The alternate ending, which is under "Chapter2" of this fic, is a bit cuter, fluffier, and well, you decide. I hope you like this! This is for all Yzak/Dearka fans out there!

♥How to Bake an Yzak Jule Cake♥

It was a beautiful May morning, the kind where the sun sparkled off the dew that clung in perfect globes on the grass and leaves; the kind where the scent of spring flowers lingered everywhere, on the cool breeze; the kind where fishing would score you a perfect ten-oh; the kind where…

….I'd rather embarrass myself and jump out of the window screaming bloody murder than sit in a stuffy classroom listening to a stuffy professor expound on the merits of Morgenthau's theory of the state as the cornerstone of modern international relations – which, unfortunately, is my exact state of existence right now, lucky me, Dearka Elsman sulked as he wistfully gazed out the window to the open fields of the ZAFT Military Academy beyond.

"All right then, I'd like you to turn to page 137. You'll see some exercises that would better enlighten you on our point of discussion," the professor's voice broke through his glum thoughts. "We've been on this module for two days already, so I expect you'll find these exercises easy. I'll give you an hour to answer them. This is graded by the way, so everyone do well!"

The class groaned in unison and several loud protests were heard. Sighing loudly, Dearka tuned out the din, lazily flipped his book to the said page, and immediately goggled in dismay at the rows and rows of blank lines AND broken lines AND bold lines that jumped out at him. "What the hell?! This looks more like a scavenger hunt for the history of Mankind from the dinosaurs up!" he muttered to himself. He thumped his book in irritation and looked around the room. Despite the earlier complaints of his fellow cadets, they had all settled into the seatwork. Up at the front near the door, Nicol Amarfi was scribbling hastily, a small smile playing on his lips. Dearka rolled his eyes. Can't believe he's excited about this. Two rows behind him Arthrun Zala was scrawling in his book with the unruffled, bored-cool expression he usually wore everywhere. Heh, no big deal for him, he can finish this is fifteen minutes. Finally, down his row, Yzak Jule – Dearka's best friend and currently secret crush - was scowling darkly as he wrote, with rigid firm strokes that Dearka was sure would show through the next pages. Hoo boy, will he have a hissy fit when he sees that! Dearka smiled in spite of himself. He can imagine it now, Yzak throwing a hissy fit. The furrowed brow, flashing ice-blue eyes, and the tight downward set of his mouth as he paced around a room ranting a stream of rated-R oaths - boy he's high-strung! Dearka honestly found these senseless tantrums endearing because Yzak was really so much like a little kid – well, a potty-mouth kid, that is.

As he stared at Yzak a ridiculous idea suddenly flashed into his mind. He hurriedly tore out a piece of paper from his notebook. Screw the seatwork! This was too precious to leave for later!

An hour later

"All right, pens up!" The professor clapped his hands. Everyone complied except for Dearka, who was scribbling madly away at the final blank on the page.

"Elsman! Pen up!"

"Oh-KAY!" The blond dotted the answer with a flourish and raised his pen, beaming.

"Just in time," the professor shook his head. "It was a relatively easy seatwork. Did you have trouble with it?"

"No sir, I just wanted to make sure everything was tip-top, up to par with your esteemed standards," Dearka replied, tongue-in-cheek.

The class sniggered.

"Which is exactly what you should be aiming for," the professor countered good-naturedly. "Anything less, and you'd better consider moving to a technical school instead."

The class erupted into laughter, and Yzak said loud enough for the class to hear, "In your face, Dearka!" The blond blushed with embarrassment and quieted down.

"Well, let's see if you make the cut Elsman," the professor approached his seat and, before Dearka could react, took his module and headed back to the front. "Let's see, page 137 was it…" He began flipping through the pages.

"Oh shit!" The blond panicked, jumping out of seat and racing after his module, but it was too late, the professor had found the page. A white sheet of paper drifted lazily to the floor.

"Hm, what's this?" the professor bent to pick the loose sheet up and Dearka stared in horror as he skimmed it, his brow creasing deeply. An amused smiled curved his lips and he looked up. "Well, it seems Elsman had his mind on something far more interesting than Morgenthau." Dearka let out a small "eep" and frantically gestured, as discreetly as he could, at his professor, who conveniently ignored him. Clearing his throat, he spoke, clearly enunciating each word, "How to Make an Yzak Jule Cake." The class fell instantly fell silent and everyone turned to stare at Dearka, who was frozen halfway between his seat and the teacher's table. "You know," the professor continued with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I thought you had made an error in grammar and meant how to bake Yzak Jule a cake, but it IS clear," he perused the sheet once more, "that you mean to bake an Yzak Jule-kind of cake." He tried to keep a straight face. "Though judging from your, ahem, ingredients, I doubt it'll be very palatable." Someone guffawed. Dearka cringed when he heard fists slam onto a table, followed by Yzak's indignant cry of "Nani?!"

"Okay, here we go." The professor paused. "Everyone, I'm sure this is a welcome deviation from the fascinating Morgenthau, so please listen and perhaps learn the fine art of baking from Mr. Dearka Elsman?" He winked at Dearka.

Dearka prayed the ground would open up and swallow him as the professor read:

"1 ½ cups of flour

1 cup non-fat milk

2 egg yolks

½ cup bitter chocolate

¼ cup vegetable oil

1 cup bile

3 tablespoons chili sauce

Assorted citrus fruit slices to top.

Step one, preheat oven to 700 degrees. Then furiously mix the first seven ingredients till smooth and creamy and splatters appear on your arm and apron. Dump mix in cake pan and throw into oven. Bake for 5 minutes only as cake has a tendency to explode in prolonged extreme temperatures. Phone Nicol Amarfi over to cool it down. May take ten hours. Top with fruits slices to pretty it up – it needs it!

Important! Remember to keep Arthrun Zala away from the kitchen at all times!"

By now, the class was rolling with laughter. The professor finished reading and held the paper out to Dearka. "Here, I think this belongs to you." With leaden feet Dearka approached and took the paper, only to be smacked on the head from behind by a furious Yzak. "YOU IDIOT!!!" He screamed. "What the hell was that!"

"BUT I can explain!"

"Explain, my foot! How dare you humiliate me in front of the class!" Yzak was positively boiling and smacked him on the head again. "Everyone, shut up!" He glared fiercely at the cadets and they quieted down

"Ouch, damnit, that hurt!" Dearka rubbed his head.

"There's more where that came from!" Yzak swore, and that's when Dearka decided the wisest course of action was to escape! He turned and dashed towards the exit. As he made it past the door with Yzak hot at his heels he heard Yzak pause and yell, "Laugh one more time Zala, and I'm gonna pound YOU into a cake!"

Well, look on the bright side, Dearka thought as he ran past the main Academy doors, I get to spend this beautiful morning outdoors after all!

How was it? I hope you enjoyed! R & R appreciated! ;)