10 Apr 2001
Pairings: Treize, Zechs and Wufei puddle!
Warnings: lemon, lemon and lemon -- and angst, o' course. ^__^ Not owned by us. ^_^
The 'party' was strangely... reminiscent of a cocktail party that lawyers had often held -- in celebration of whatever. It ususally didn't take much of an excuse for business men of this type to leap at an opportunity to drink.
All in all, there were about thirty people there, in the estate's main 'hall', and Treize was circulating among them with champagne before Zechs arrived.
A tall, slender woman with sharp features and a not-quite-pretty face waved her napkin in his direction. "More champagne, sweetheart!" she called and then brought her glass over and set it, rather deliberately, on his tray. "So, did the blond brat hire you especially for this occasion, or are you his usual... servant." The last word came a little belatedly, after she run her eyes over him and bitten, rather viciously, into one of Duo's long, airy cheese straws.
"I work here," he murmured, unflustered as he held a fresh glass out to her. "Are you enjoying this, Madam?"
"Are you *new*?" she asked him petulantly. "One doesn't come to these little gatherings to *enjoy* oneself. One *comes* because one should keep an eye on other players in the game, Mr.... Mr... well, whatever your name is."
"Actually, Madam, I *am* new. However, I stay rather alert of things," he smiled politely. "How *is* the canning business, Mrs. Swender?"
There was a pause and she stared at him openly. Taking a slow sip of her champagne, she kept her gaze locked on him and then tapped a long, manicured fingernail on the rim of the glass. "Competitive as usual," she said warily. "But I'm sure you know *nothing* of business..." Her coy tone and batted lashes practically screamed "challenge."
"Enough to know that your company's stock took a plunge last year and hasn't recovered since," Treize murmured qith a cordial smile as a man flagged him over for a drink. "Ah -- excuse me. Duty calls."
Her eyes were daggers in his back all the way across the room.
The man who had called him was talking animatedly with another, taller man and for a moment didn't seem to remember that he had wanted a drink. His conversational partner, however, noticed Treize and stopped mid-sentence. "You did say you wanted a drink, didn't you Claude?"
"Ah - oui oui!" the man said, turning to Treize and his tray. He stopped however, before his hand could grasp one of the glass stems and stared flat out at the man serving him. "Mon-Monsieur Khushrenada...? Is it... really you?"
It certainly *looked* like the man -- his hair was a little longer, there was a few scars, very faint, on the side of his neck, and he moved with even more animal fluidity than he'd moved before...
Treize froze at seeing the face of Claude de Gaul, a man who had been a client of his -- business-related law only, of course -- many times... /What do I do? Lie...? Tell the truth...?/ Drop to his knees, crawl out of the room and latch onto Zechs the moment he found him?
"Good evening, Monsieur de Gaul," he murmured in a voice that shook just slightly. "You... wanted champagne?"
"Yes..." de Gaul murmured, not taking his eyes from Treize's face. "Ah, Monsieur Khushrenada... do you not know... they are looking for you on the Continent - that is... they *were*, after you... you disappeared sir... it was in the papers... everyone now thinks you are dead! And you have been... been *here*? All the time?"
One hand gracefully held out a glass of the chanpagne for his ex-client. "It's a very good year, sir," he murmured blandly. "And you did not see me here, Monsieur de Gaul."
For a long moment the Frenchman let the glass remain in Treize's hand. Then he seemed to make a decision and reached for it. There was a quickly murmured, "No, of course not, Monsieur," and he turned back to his companion, who looked thoroughly confused.
On the other side of the room, Zechs had just walked in a slim-fitting suit of dark blue, long hair tucked neatly behind his ears. He greeted his guests in a confident but easy-going manner, shaking men's hands and kissing women's cheeks. There was a large crowd around him within two minutes of his entrance, and he seemed completely at home in the middle of them, his eyes sparking, smile brilliant, a master of business at formal ease.
Several people seemed to be talking to him at once when he looked around the room, saw Treize, and gave him soft smile and a very discrete wink.
Pale cheeks tinged with colour for a moment, and he gave a very slight bow to the Frenchman. "Could you tell Marimeia that I am alright? I would be greatly obliged if you did -- but do not tell where I am... thank you, Monsieur de Gaul," he finished quickly as someone near to Zechs hailed him for a drink. "Have a... good evening."
Monsieur de Gaul gave a small nod and turned away.
The people calling him turned out to be a man and woman in their mid-to-late twenties at the most, perhaps just a few years older than Zechs. She had very short, dark hair and blood-red fingernails and he wore an expensive suit and an even more expensive haircut. It was the woman who spoke first.
"Thanks *ever* for the champagne, dear. Now, Bram and I were having a chat about you -"
"A *very* interesting chat it was, too," Bram interrupted, leaning forward and smiling somewhat slyly at Treize.
"*I* told him that you were probably a model from some Eastern European country -"
"And *I*," interrupted Bram again, "said you were probably filthy rich and from the south of France - doing Zechs's dirty work for the fun of it."
"What cheek!" the woman screeched at him. "You said you thought he'd lost a bet with Goldilocks and this was the way he had to pay."
"Well, what*ever*," her partner replied, turning to Treize. "So *do* tell us, ducks, what *is* the story behind your being here...?
Two impeccably groomed faces waited eagerly for an answer.
They seemed... friendly, if eccentric. But it was the sort of eccentric he could deal *well* with!
"Neither," he smiled. "I'm a rich german ex-lawyer who very much enjoys doing what I'm doing now." Then, to make his confidence seem all the higher, he picked up a flute of champagne from the tray and took a sip. "It's all in all very nice here. Zechs is *wonderful*, you know?"
"*German!*" the woman squealed, "Oh, neither *one* of us thought of German!" She took the opportunity to give Bram a light slug in the arm, almost spilling his champagne in the process. "As for *Zechs*," she said in a low, conspiriatorial voice, "he's *divine... isn't he Bram?" She nudged her friend with an elbow and winked at him.
Bram flushed a bit and then burst into something that was almost a giggle. "Daphne's only saying that," he told Treize, "because she knows I have a *huge* crush on him." He looked back at her and smiled wryly. "Well after all, love, a boy can *dream*, can't he?" He made a face at her and then turned back to Treize. "So, what do *you* make of all this," he asked, waving his now-empty champagne glass at the room in general. "Think we're all a bunch of boring loons?"
"Oh, loons *certainly*," he smiled truthfully, "but never *boring*. This is better than some of the functions of this sort that I've attended." To himself, he was trying to figure the two before him out -- where they married? Bisexual...? "It's certainly kept my interest tonight."
"Oh, Zechs's little bashes are always a *scream*," Daphne gushed. "He's an absolute *genius* at putting people together. You see that rather peacockish-looking man in the corner, talking to the Greta Garbo lookalike?" She put an arm around Treize's shoulder and pointed discretely to a corner of the room where a man in his twenties, resplendant in a reddish-pink Italian suit, silk cravat, and boots, was engaged in a tete-a-tete with a bored blond woman in her mid-thirties. She wore a dark, sparkly gown that fell to mid-thigh and was cut so low in the back that the barest hint of cleft was visible and his hand, stroking her back, was teasing faintly at it.
/Yes, but it's still better than people fucking on the table-tops,/ he mused as he set his own empty champagne glass on his tray, before one hand raised to rub discreetly at where his collar should be. Strange to not be wearing it.
"Well," Daphne continued, "*he* used to be married to that little nothing talking to the member of Parliament, near the windows. He dumped her to go chasing after his own hormones and the next year her entire portfolio went platinum and now she's richer than God and he's practically a gigolo, flattering older women to barely make a living."
"There's bitter irony in that," Treize smiled. "Isn't that the member of Parliment that was being scandalized for sleeping around -- with men and women? And now he's an activist."
"Ooh - you're *good*," Bram purred, looking at Treize with new appreciation.
Just then a deep voice behind them murmured, "He's better than good, Bram - so be respectful, please..." Bram turned to find Zechs directly behind them and promptly went beet red. "Ahh! Good evening, Zechs old man. We were just giving your 'employee' a run down on some of your more interesting guests."
Zechs's eyes followed Bram's and he smiled softly. "Ah, Mr. Berko. Always intriguing - if only just to watch. How are things going, Treize?"
"Quite well, sir," he smiled, offering champagne to his owner. "Though I would like to talk briefly with you, if I could... But right now I'm going to get more champagne and get rid of the empty glasses. So, if you'll excuse me..."
Zechs nodded at him and watched as he walked towards the small bar at the end of the room.
"He's *gorgeous*, Zechs -" Daphne drooled. "Where'd you find *him*?"
"He was a referral," Zechs said, smiling mysteriously. "I'm quite pleased with him..."
"Said he was German -- *where* did you manage to find such a pretty German man, Zechs?" Bram cooed. "We'd thought he was some model -- or French! He was talking with droll de Gual for a short eternity!"
"Was he?" Zechs murmured, shifting his gaze the the animated Frenchman, now uncharacteristically silent. "Well, he's one of those aristocratic types - not sure where all his line comes from. Besides, I've recently developed a very keen interest in Germans..."
He took that opportunity to smile suggestively at Bram, who promptly lost his ability to speak.
And kept that way until Treize returned, carrying the fresh tray of champagne. "Sorry that I took so long, M... Sir," he uttered to Zechs, barely stopping himself from saying 'Master'. "I was set upon by a group of Russians who agree with *me* that vodka is the best drink."
"And if I served vodka to Russians in my house," Zechs replied, smiling almost mischevously at Treize and raising one, golden eyebrow, "my cleaning bills would eat away all my venture capital. No, no - champagne is much safer..."
Daphne was looking back and forth between the the two men - employer and employee - and a tiny smile began to form on her face. "Oh, come *on*, you two - admit it! Your *lovers,* aren't you? Enough of this employee business. We want the full scoop!"
Bram scowled over at her. "*Daphs*! Don't be so catty! If the man says he's working for Zechs, then he's working for Zechs. Silly woman!"
Someone on the other side of the room shouted for champagne, and Treize smiled to all three of them. "Ah, duty calls -- have a nice evening!" And as he walked smoothly away, he patted Zechs' bottom with his free-hand.
It was the least he could do to calm his nerves, well aware of the looks he was getting from de Gaul.
Zechs nearly spilled his champagne at the unexpected touch of that hand and stared after his pet, a look of disbelief crossing his features briefly, along with a very attractive blush.
"He's a model employee, Daphne" he managed to murmur, turning back towards the pair. "Truly, I've used his services quite a bit lately. Never been less than satisfied." He gave a brilliant smile to both of them and then excused himself and headed for a small group of Japanese businessmen and their accompanying English call girls.
"I'm sure he's used his *services* a lot!" Bram could be heard giggling as Zechs departed them.
The next people who'd called him down looked... *normal*. A married couple that he was sure were co-owners of a software company.
"Thanks," the man said, grinning rather sheepishly at Treize. "It's just that my wife and I have just flown in from California and we're afraid to drink anything alcoholic."
"We don't want to end up snoozing in the bushes outside the house," explained the woman. "Would you be able to get us some water?"
"Yes, of course," he smiled. "Though I can assure you they're very nice bushes. Be back in a moment, though!"
It meant another trip to the kitchen, where Duo was half-working, half lounging. The champagne tray was set down with a firm clatter on the main island. "Duo, I need something non-alcholic for a couple that just flew in."
Duo looked up from where he was putting fresh, shredded basil on a tray of bruschetta and grinned at the older man. "How is it going, old bean? You look like you're getting a workout!"
He headed for the refrigerator, pulling out two large stainless steel pitchers of chilled water and putting them on Treize's tray. "And didn't you get a uniform or something?"
"This *is* it," Treize murmured, gesturing to his formal-wear. "He wanted me to look like a hired servant, not a memeber of the household." the pitchers were poured into a total of four new glasses, and then he left the pitchers there. "I'll come back if it's needed -- most of them are intent on getting drunk."
Picking the tray up again, he smiled at Duo before heading back out into the main hall and back to that couple. "Here you are."
"You're a saint!" the woman said, taking a glass and drinking down most of it in one gulp. "I hate airplanes - they make me feel like I've just spent twelve hours in the desert. Lovely reception, by the way. We've always found the English to be the best hosts."
"I'll pass that on to my Ma... Employer," he smiled. "I take it your flight was harrowing, but how has your trip itself been?"
The man looked over at his wife and they exchanged a wry smile. "We~ll," he said, "we got stopped for twenty minutes at both the San Jose airport *and* Heathrow because the security folks thought our computers were deadly explosive devices, and our R&D team -"
"Which consists of us and two of the most serious geeks in SIlicon Valley -" interrupted his wife.
"All right, the *other two members* of our R&D team have yet to make it out of their beds in the apartment back in London."
"It's terrible," added the wife again, the irony dripping off her words. "We've tried *everything* - pizza, Skittles, Jolt Cola... even a full box of Cap'n Crunch cereal *each* and *still* there's no movement!"
"Coffee," Treize murmured sagely. "And tea. Steep about four cups of tea, and run it through the coffee machine with fresh grounds about four times. Personal experience tells me that it could wake the dead, if you can get it to pour," he smiled at then. "Are you in England for business, or pleasure?"
The wife's face was all disgust, but her husband smiled thoughtfully at Treize. "You know," he said beginning to nod, "I think they just might deserve that for hiding the sushi in our least-used file cabinet drawer."
Smacking her hand against her forehead, the wife chimed in again. "Ugh, that was *horrible.* We actually had to get people in to put special air fresheners on the ducting system. The office was uninhabitable for a *week!*" She grinned, not unlike Duo was apt to. "And it's a little of both - business and pleasure."
"Zechs provided our venture capital, three years ago," the husband offered, "and now we've gotten too successful and this bigger company is smiling at us with it's fangs bared, talking about 'an arrangement.'"
The wife jumped in again. "So we're going to meet with your boss this week and get some advice on how to handle the whole mess without making fools of ourselves."
"Or going broke," added her husband, matter-of-factly.
"Right," she agreed, "and then we're going to poke around Europe for a week before we head back."
"Ah, Europe," Treize smiled. "The continent, yes? It's a wonderful place to make a trip to, beleive me! You'll enjoy it immensly."
"It's our first time," the wife said happily. "Do you know it well?"
"Very well indeed," he smiled. "I've lived on continent for all of my life, until recently."
The pair looked at each other, smiling, then back at him. "That's great," the husband said. "We haven't picked where to go yet - do you have any suggestions for a place that's absolutely gorgeous and the people wouldn't laugh too hard when two Americans make fools of themselves trying to speak the language?"
Across the room, Monsiuer de Gaul had approached Zechs and was speaking to him, quietly and urgently.
Obviously concerned by *that* bit of conversation, Treize looked warily there, then back to the couple.
"Switzerland. It's a wonderful place, and they're completely friendly --I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of the evening..." He replaced their glasses of water with fresh ones, then was off again, appraoching Zechs and Monsiuer de Gaul. "Champange, sirs?"
The Frenchman put his glass down on the tray, and grabbed another. He cast a significant glance over at Zechs and one at Treize and then left. Zechs watched him for a moment and then smiled over at Treize. "He was discussing the financial benefits of either telling the German press that you've become a 'prostitute' or having me arrested for kidnapping. He can't decide which at the moment."
"Oh?" Treize feigned being calm, but only barely. /Ruin me, my family, my reputation, or ruin my master, and myself in the process. Such friends I have.../ "Wonderful. Well, I've penned in a nervous break-down for myself as soon as this party is over, so hopefully he'll have decided by then."
"Sorry to make you miss an appointment," Zechs said smoothly, taking a step closer to him, "but there won't *be* any nervous breakdown. Just watch that door for a moment." He gestured to the main entrance to the room.
Sapphire gaze moved to tiredly look at that door. "I'm watching."
A few moments went by and the sound of heavy and hurried footsteps could be heard in the hallway outside. A serious-looking man came around the corner, trailed by a younger but brawnier one. They immediately made for where Treize and Zechs were standing.
"Zechs," said the older man, "is he still here?"
"Yes," the blond replied calmly, "over by the h'ors d'oeuvres, the one in the dark grey suit."
"Lindley," the man said to his partner, "go and invite Monsieur de Gaul to join us."
Lindley did as he was told and in a moment, de Gaul was there, looking decidedly unhappy.
"Monsieur de Gaul?" the older man spoke again, "I'm Alan Mallory, CID of Scotland Yard, I understand that you've been harassing these two men."
de Gaul only kept glaring.
"It's a pity Mr. Marquise had to call us, Monsieur. There seem to be no less than three warrants out for someone who fits your description to a tee. Money laundering and embezzlement, I believe. Would you please step this way? We've a car waiting outside."
The Frenchman's face went white and his knees seemed to sag a bit as Lindley led him away. Alan smiled over at Zechs and nodded his head at the two of them. "Goodnight, gentlemen - enjoy the rest of your party."
Zechs reached up and smoothed a lock of hair back from Treize's eyes. "I don't like people threatening me, but threatening you is simply unacceptable. Besides, I'm far too fond of you to let you have a nervous breakdown."
Letting himself make the gesture of leaning into that touch, Treize let out a shakey breath that was mimicked by a slight tremble in the tray he carried. "Ah, Gott. I was afraid, for a moment, Zechs..." /That I'd have to go back to my ruined life back home.../
"I understand," Zechs said softly. "But there's nothing to fear now. I don't want you to ever be afraid again."
"Zechs..." He let out another soft breath, pulling himself raggedly together. "I should go back to my rounds..."
"Yes, they should be going soon. I want to... that is..." Zechs hesitated for a moment and then looked over at Treize. "Will you join me for a walk in the garden when this is over?"
"Gladly," Treize replied, instantly remembering the last time in the garden. A tender look was cast at his owner, and then he was gone, in amongst the people who were left, and cordially offering them another drink.
The last people to leave were the Americans, who had pumped Treize for every bit of information he could provide on Switzerland. Zechs had walked them back to their taxi and taken his time coming back up to the house. He stood looking up at it for several minutes, wondering at the strange currents and eddys of emotion that had been his constant companions of late. /This is *mine* - as is my business, and my holdings, and... and my *pets.* They are mine the way everything else here is mine... even Treize... especially Treize... and that, Zechs old man, is the end of it./
He straigthened his shoulders for confidence, took a deep breath, and headed back into the house.
Treize was sitting in a chair in that main room, a mostly empty glass of champagne in one hand, eyes closed -- resting, but not sleeping. /I'm always so drained after one of these 'events'... My feet hurt, but my arm hurts more from holding that damned tray for four hours.../
Zechs stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, studying the older man as he would a fine painting or statue. Everything about Treize, the noble face, the richly-colored hair, glowing blue eyes, and lean body, sang to him in that moment. He moved quietly towards the man's chair and knelt down, removing his shoes and smiling up at him as he began to massage his feet.
"You, dear Treize, are to be highly commended."
Treize had startled a little, cracking open his eyes as those hands, warm and strong, began to rub there. "Mmmm... I'm just glad that you took care of de Gaul. He was a client of mine once... Everyone else here were very nice, all in all."
"'Nice' is a good word to use," Zechs said laughing softly. "So tell me honestly, are you too tired for that walk I mentioned?"
"Not really," he mused, "I just needed to relax for a moment. It was... draining."
He gave a last gentle squeeze to Treize's feet. "Well, I'll go change -and meet you back down here in 20 minutes."
"Should I change, too, master?" Treize asked as he drew his feet back, slipping them into his shoes again.
Zechs turned, but kept walking, backwards, as he smiled. "If you like..." And then he was gone.
In nearly a bolt, as soon as Zechs was gone, Treize was down the hall, taking all the turns needed to get back to his and Wufei's room.
Once in his room, Zechs changed into loose, dark blue cotton pants and a similar-fitting shirt, dark-red and bordering on gauzy. The he sat on his bed and stared into the mirror, beginning, slowly, to brush out his hair.
By the time twenty minutes had passed, Treize was back in that main hall, dressed in his loose blue pants, collar and barefoot. Awaiting only his master.
"Let's go out this way," a soft baritone voice came from the far end of the room. Zechs stood at the entrance to a hallway that had been hidden behind the heavy drapes. It was short, and had a door to the garden at the other end. As Treize approached, Zechs reached out for his hand and led him outside.
Glad to grasp and keep holding that hand as they stepped out into what felt like a lush, cool jungle, Treize smiled. "Did *you* enjoy *yourself* tonight, Zechs?"
"Mmm - for the most part. They were all people who have been clients at one point. I like making my clients happy, seeing them enjoy themselves..."
/Calling the cops on them.../ "You benefit from it, of course," Treize assumed, and rightly so. It didn't matter, of course -- the end result was the same. "Tell me... what did de Gual say?"
Zechs looked up at the other man, not wanting to believe what he'd heard. /That's how he sees me - using other people only because I gain from it... is that the only reason I gave the party? I really did think it was partly because I.../ "de Gaul? Oh, just what I told you. And that he knew where you were from and what everybody thought had happened to you... He was just looking for some financial benefit from it all." Zechs let go of Treize's hand and walked over to the edge of a pond that lay to one side of the path. "I suppose he and I are rather alike that way."
Following with slow steps, Treize raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't say that at all, Zechs. he was... obviously conniving, with no one in mind other than himself," Treize murmured, thinking back... /Damn./ He'd done it again, hadn't he? Said something that was terribly wrong. "I didn't mean it like that -- I meant that you benefit as a side -- an add-on to the party itself.
"It's quite all right," Zechs said in an off-hand way. "No need for flattery. I know very well what sort of person I am and I don't need to pretend otherwise." /But I suppose I had been pretending otherwise. A good dose of reality always does the trick, though./
Turning away from the pond, he headed back the way they'd come, to the path. "It's late. I shouldn't have dragged you all the way out here. I think we'll head back in."
"Dammit, stop running," Treize protested, staying right where he was --standing up to Zechs and not backing down in the least. "You're a very *good* person, Zechs, and you'd see just how good if you'd stop running away everytime you felt... Gott, I don't know. Vulnerable? I promised you I'd stop wearing masks, and I *have*. I've given you every bit of myself, and happily. At least..." He stopped, long enough to draw air again. "At least stop running. I worry about you, Zechs -- you seem unhappy so much of the time, because you deny yourself one thing, or another..." Zechs had stopped when Treize began talking, but now he turned suddenly, an unreadable look on his face. "You must be talking about someone else, Treize. I don't deny myself anything. I don't care at all about what other people feel. The only reason I do anything is because it benefits me, financially or sexually." He was fighting back tears now, so far successfully. "I don't know who this other man is you're talking of, but it couldn't possibly be *me*!"
He *did* want to run. He wanted to run so fast and so far that the pain of what Treize had said about him would be left far behind. /Why should it matter? He was only speaking the truth. Am I that afraid of the truth? Am I that afraid of the image in the mirror he just held up? And damn it all to hell - why is it hurting *this* much!/
He turned away again, unable to look at the older man. "Why should I be unhappy? I have everything I want materially. I have power and status in the communities I inhabit. I have beautiful men to spread their legs for me whenever I want a fuck. And best of all, I don't have one of those troubling consciences that other men have. So I can be as selfish as I want and never feel a pang of regret." He paused for a moment, breathing hard. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "It's just that now and then, especially lately, I get this idea into my head that I've done something for someone else, not just for myself. But it doesn't usually live very long. Soon enough I abandon it and realize it for the mistake it was..."
Strong arms slid around him from behind, as a warm body pressed against his back. "Zechs... There's more to you than the superficial part that you think is everything," Treize murmured, breath warm against Zechs' ear. "You are *very* caring of your pets, and your friends. You just need to stop trying to beat down that part of you that wants to attach to other people." Warm breath tickled at the base of his neck, and Treize nuzzled there, through the curtain of blonde hair. "Ich liebe Du, Zechs. I truly mean that, and... I still will, even if you're not ready for it, yet."
"Obviously I'm not." Zechs's voice was quiet and bitter. "I was feeling, stupidly it seems, that things were beginning to change..." /God... why else would I kneel at your feet, in hopes of making you feel better... why else would I *ask* you to come with me out here, instead of ordering you to do so... And all the time, you were looking at me for the selfish bastard I really am - how utterly idiotic I was to think differently.../
"But I was mistaken. I'm not the sort of creature to change. I am, at heart, a shallow, selfish man who takes what he wants and cares nothing for anyone else." /Why should it matter differently, Treize, if even you see me that way.../
"I don't believe that," Treize murmured, voice muffled as he kept nuzzling at Zechs' neck. "You're very caring -- not shallow and selfish. My other masters were shallow an selfish."
Zechs continued to stare out into the shadowy garden. "No, they were just stupid. After all, that's why one takes care of one's things. So they give more pleasure... or more money. To do otherwise would just squander one's investment."
"You don't mean that," Treize murmured quietly, sounding slightly broken-hearted. "because if that's all we were to you, you wouldn't tell us that. You wouldn't bother taking me out here. Wouldn't bother doing so many things that you do."
"I don't do anything unless it benefits me..." the deep voice was close to breaking. "You just provided an excellent example with the party tonight. As I said, sometimes I let little fantasies of goodness carry me away, but it's best to get someone else's point of view in those situations. Good to be reminded of how other people perceive me. Especially you..."
"Ach, gott," Treize murmured, hugging Zechs tighter. "I didn't *mean* it like that, Zechs!"
"It was helpful, really," Zechs said. "I mean, after all - you're the person I'd been fantasizing the most for. I've broken so many rules with you... done things I told myself years ago that I would never do, and I'd almost convinced myself that there was something more to me... But *you* see right through that, to the greedy, selfish bastard I really am. So I can stop the fantasy now. Because if you of all people see through it, then anyone can and there's really no use for it."
The face pressed against the back of his neck was starting to dampen. "Shut up, dammit," Treize hissed softly. "Just shut up. Don't cheapen everything like that, Zechs. You're *not* a greedy selfish bastard! You're an annoyingly self-effacing bastard, but you're not greedy, or selfish!"
For the first time in his life, Zechs obeyed an order from a pet. He stayed silent, tears running down his cheeks, fists clenched at his sides. /Either way, sweet Treize, I'm a bastard. And you deserve so much more.../
"And I'm not any better than you are," Treize whispered softly as he slid around, arms still tight around Zechs' waist. One hand rose, to lift Zechs' chin, studying those tears. "See? Tears. I've hurt you again, Zechs," came the whispered words, "and no matter what things you say about yourself, words couldn't hurt so much if you had no heart."
"You're much better than I am," Zechs murmured, "and you didn't hurt me. You just made me look at things realistically, instead of trying to fool myself... fool you." He finally looked at Treize. "You're a useful man to have around, that way. Because I can't fool you. Can't pretend I'm someone I'm not because you'll see through me every time.... every time..."
"Oh, god no," Treize whispered, lifting a hand to touch a damp cheek, stroking gently. "Zechs... I didn't *mean* it like that when I said it! I meant it like... I know you were enjoying talking with old clients -- but it obviously helps you keep on top of things. Everyone does it at parties like that -- I used to do it when I held parties like that, Zechs. It's nothing about you, it's business sense." Leaning in and up just slightly, Treize pressed his lips against Zechs, a kiss that started out tender and began to turn into something much deeper. Zechs did everything he could to fight the feelings Treize was pulling out of him. The best he could do, though, was to break away and press his lips against the other man's cheek.
"That doesn't change the fact that it was the first thing you thought about. After all, don't I always have some selfish or sordid reason for doing what I do? Why would you possibly think differently?" His arms wraped tightly around Treize, burying his face in the silk of the older man's hair. "Even you, who's caused me to do things I've never done before..."
"My sweet Master," Treize rumbled softly. One hand stroked firmly up and down the other man's back. "You are your own worst critic. You shouldn't use yourself as a doormat, Zechs."
There was a pause. "Are you really telling your *master* to stop being a doormat, Treize? Isn't that a bit like... telling a wolf to stop eating all those vegetables?"
"Yes, I am," Treize murmured with a tiny smile. "*You* walk all over *yourself*, Zechs. And you shouldn't, not at all. You're a very nice man, and I can see that it runs bone deep. If you weren't, don't you think I'd've jumped at a chance to get another master?"
"Bless you for that," came the whispered reply and the arms around Treize tigthened.
Expression still a little sad, Treize kept hugging onto his owner. "Just feel, Zechs -- it's so much better when you don't fight it."
"You want something from me, Treize... something I've never given to anyone... I don't even know if I'm capable of it. I can't promise you anything, when it comes to that..." Zechs nuzzled against the other man's cheek, trailing slowly to his lips and brushing them with his own. "Can't promise..." he whispered. "You make me want to, though..." The rest of his words were covered by the kiss he pressed to Treize's mouth, soft, warm, needy.
Returning it, Treize pressed closer to Zechs, feeling washed over with all of the tenderness that he felt in it. /My Master... Zechs.../ When it broke, he whispered, "Don't promise, Zechs -- just *try*." Then he moved to take another kiss.
End of Chapter 22
(:./kumiko/velvet22)
