CH 8
53 years post Z.R. – March
"We are not going out." Kallen stood with her feet planted shoulder-width apart, arms crossed belligerently over her chest.
Lelouch sighed, one arm through his coat, frozen mid-motion of putting it on. "Why not? No one's going to recognize me anymore. And it's your birthday."
Kallen was not swayed. "Because I'm old, Lelouch. And you are not. Or at least you don't look it. And I don't want people to think I'm out celebrating with my grandson."
Lelouch's gaze softened and he dropped his coat to step into her and wrap one arm firmly around her waist. The other lifted to allow his fingers to catch her chin and turn her face to his. He brushed a soft kiss against her lips, causing her to exhale unsteadily. "You are not old."
"I'm seventy today, Lelouch!"
"Which means you've got a good two decades before anyone would consider you old. That's an entire generation, Kallen."
She leveled him a narrow-eyed stare.
He tried another tack. "No one's going to know you're seventy unless you tell them. You're beautiful." She was. Still lithe and lean and toned. She dyed her hair, mostly because she was still a prominent figure in politics and image was everything in that arena. She was still as lively and energetic as a much younger woman. Only the wrinkles on her face and hands gave her away, and even those were only deep enough to add character, in his opinion.
He meant it, she knew he did, saw it every time he looked at her. But . . . "I don't look seventeen." And he did. He really, really did. Completely untouched by time, he was as young and breathtakingly beautiful as ever. It didn't matter how good she looked for her age, she couldn't compare to him.
"Kallen," he cajoled, wrapping her against his chest, "let's celebrate properly." Despite what he'd said, he was ever aware that their time together was getting shorter every year. Who knew how many birthdays they would have left together? He wanted to make the most of every moment.
"We can celebrate here," she maintained, stubborn as ever.
Lelouch fought the urge to growl, because he didn't want to argue with her – not today. Actually, he didn't ever want to argue with her, and rarely did, but especially today he wanted everything to be joy and laughter. It was her birthday wasn't it?
Maybe he should give in and let her have her way.
"Alright," he conceded. "I'll order in."
"Thank you." She pushed up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek, high, near his ear, and then detoured to whisper, "it's more fun to celebrate in private anyway."
The look she gave him as she slipped away proved his point entirely. Kallen Kozuki was in no way old. A truth he was going to enjoy proving later tonight.
"Does that French place deliver?" she asked from the kitchen.
"For Zero's first attaché?" he asked, amused. "Probably. For anyone else? I doubt it."
Kallen frowned: she hated using her position, but she really, really wanted Chez Levou, and after the fuss she'd just made she couldn't recant on eating in now.
Lelouch chuckled and moved to cage her between his body and the kitchen counter, hand reaching for the phone. "What do you want?" he asked, voice a silken whisper against her cheek.
She swallowed hard, suddenly hungry for something very different than dinner. But there would be time for that – they weren't children anymore, they could wait until they'd had a proper meal. "Ah. The usual? And mousse for dessert?"
This close to one another, his chuckle vibrated pleasantly from his chest to hers and tingles spread down from where his lips hovered almost touching her ear. They might not be hormonal teenagers anymore, but she was pretty sure she'd be dead before her body stopped responding to him.
"Was that a question?" he teased.
"Lelouch! Just order."
He did. In French. Body still pressed to hers, lips dangerously near her ear. It was, frankly, sexy as hell, and she didn't know how she was going to keep from jumping him while they waited for their dinner to arrive. Somehow she lost track of the conversation, though she knew it was longer than a typical take out call. He'd probably threatened them, or promised them something, or made a fuss about who the order was for. She didn't know. Her French had never been very good to begin with and right now every cell in her body was focused on Lelouch.
The phone beeped in her ear as he ended the call. He shifted into her, one leg moving to part her knees, his lips angling back to brush against her ear when he spoke.
"They said forty-five minutes," he breathed huskily. His hand glided up the bare flesh of her arm. "What do you want to do while we wait?"
He was teasing her again and she didn't care. Her body was humming as though she'd come in contact with a live wire, short circuiting all thoughts but the need for him. She turned her head sharply, catching his lips with hers in something more like an attack than a proper kiss. His lips curled against hers and his hands moved to frame her face, slowing and gentling the contact she'd initiated.
"Je t'aime," he murmured when she let him up for air.
She hummed in response, one arm moving to wrap around his neck, her other hand gripped his shirt over his heart. His lips found hers again, gentle but insistent. She didn't argue, though he had to work to keep the leisurely pace he was endeavoring to set. Much as he wanted to lose himself in her, dinner was on its way. He wasn't aiming for anything more than a prolonged make-out session here – something to take the edge off and also to build anticipation for later. Extended, interrupted, foreplay, so to speak. Experience had taught him that the wait was almost always worth it. Besides, it was her birthday, he wanted to worship her for hours in a proper bed, not indulge in a quickie against the kitchen counter. Both the romantic and the pragmatist in him agreed on that point. Kallen might be spry for a seventy-year-old, but she was a woman past menopause, and a former soldier, he didn't want to end this night in the emergency room setting a broken bone or icing strained back muscles.
Not that he would ever, ever tell her that.
When the doorbell rang, much later, Kallen had almost forgotten they were expecting anyone. She tensed automatically and Lelouch eased away from her with a lopsided smile of amusement.
"Dinner," he reminded her. "You'd better get it or they'll think I lied to them."
Kallen rolled her eyes at his antics, but obediently slid down off the counter –when had he lifted her there?– and began brushing her clothing and hair back into place. Lelouch's hands joined hers, a strange mix of clinical efficiency and lingering caresses. The bell rang again and Kallen brushed his hands away, squaring them against one another.
"How do I look?"
"Like you've been thoroughly kissed," he said, eyes twinkling.
Kallen batted his shoulder. "Am I all straightened out?" There was nothing she could do about her swollen lips, but that didn't mean she couldn't face the deliveryman with some dignity.
His gaze roved her form critically. "Nearly pristine."
She almost stuck her tongue out at him, but refrained. She walked at a brisk clip to the door and pulled it open. A young man in bus boy uniform stood there, which made sense since high-end French restaurants did not offer delivery service and therefore did not hire delivery staff. He looked startled.
"Oh. It's really you."
She fought down a smirk. Up on the times, or had restaurant management actually schooled him to check? Would they have taken the food back if she hadn't been who she claimed?
She reached for the bags on his arm, face assuming the polite mask of her position. "Thank you for making time to do this. I'm afraid I wasn't up to going out tonight, but I needed Chez Levou."
He smiled politely back at her and offered a small bow. "It was my pleasure ma'am. We are honored you think so highly of our establishment. Your assistant was most complimentary and solicitous in his request."
She couldn't help but turn to look over her shoulder at Lelouch, brow raised. Assistant? Was that what he'd told them? Lelouch smiled pleasantly back at her.
"I'm sure he was," she said quietly. "Give me a moment, I've left my wallet in the kitchen."
"I've got it." Lelouch's smooth tones interrupted at the same moment the heat of his body registered beside her and he extended an elegant hand toward the bus boy. When had he moved? He'd been by the counter only a moment ago.
The teen's gaze drifted down, his eyes widening briefly before he schooled his expression back to neutral, and Kallen realized Lelouch had slid one arm firmly around her waist. It was clearly the possessive hold of a lover. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, but resolutely maintained her poise.
"Thank you," Lelouch said and then he closed the door firmly. "Shall we?" he asked his lover, nimble fingers already loosing her hold on the bag containing their evening meal.
Kallen blinked at the closed door and then, ever so slowly, turned her head to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink and he fought back a grin, certain it would not be appreciated.
He was right.
"What. Was. That?" she asked, hand coming up to shield her eyes and hide her flushed cheeks. "Oh God, he thinks I'm a cradle robber."
At that he couldn't help but chuckle. "And it matters why?"
She peeked at him from between her fingers. "He knows who I am."
"He isn't going to say anything."
Her hands left her face as she gestured in exasperation. "But what if he does?"
Lelouch set their dinner on the table and turned to give her his full attention. "Are you worried about me or your reputation?"
She looked away from him. "Either. Both."
His hand slid along her cheek to frame her face and turn it gently to his. He hadn't expected her to be so bothered by this. "Kallen, he'll have forgotten all about it by morning."
"But what if he doesn't?"
"He will." Lelouch kissed her. She was stiff for only a moment before melting against him. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he pulled away. "I didn't think it would upset you. It's not often I get to stake my claim on you publicly. I got carried away." He'd only wanted to show he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her.
Kallen leaned into his chest. "No, you're right. It's not a big deal. Working at Chez Levou I'm sure he's aware of the need to be discreet."
"Forgiven then?" he asked, sweetly sincere.
Kallen smiled, hand reaching to caress the back of his neck. "Of course. Now where's my birthday dinner?"
Lelouch chuckled and turned her back to the table. "Right this way, Madam."
