Another collection of short stories, CluClu this time (my fav ship! 33)
They should cover the evolution of their relationship from R1 to R2 (and maybe the last movie too, I don't know yet since it's not the main canon)

The works are mine, but I'm translating them from my language, so feel free to point out any mistakes, if you like. I need to improve!

Julius Caesar

C.C. sat cross-legged on the bed, supporting her head with one arm propped at her knee. She would have liked to take a nap, but the brat wouldn't stop pacing back and forth in the confined space of the room as he ruminated aloud.

On the desk there was a topographic map and upon that the chess pieces were arranged in the set-up of a game he was playing alone against the White — and which obviously was already turning in his favor. On paper, Black always won.

From time to time, when he was pleased by one of his extraordinary insights, he would go to his desk and move a piece. Then he'd make his happy clapping sneer as he admired The Great Plan (according to him, The Imminent Disaster, according to her) and puff out his chest giving himself the airs of a Julius Caesar.

Considering she'd already had to save his life twice, the only reason she was listening to him was to know when she had to step in to prevent that he fell by pushing too hard on the swing. C.C. could only blame herself. She should have pondered better her contractor and choose someone with a greater spirit of self-preservation.

"The dynamite should serve the purpose," Lelouch ruled decisively, emerging from two minutes of intense spiritual retreat with his palms joined together and the tips of his fingers that touched his chin.

"Detonation–What–A–Passion," she said flatly. Then she raised a clenched fist and spread her fingers wide, smacking her lips, "Boom!"

Lelouch stopped in the center of the room to give her a frustrated look. That wasn't the enthusiastic reaction he had expected. "What do you mean?"

"You always blow something up," sighed C.C. lifting her head from her palm. "As you said, hitting those two pillars should be enough to do the job. The Burai 'should serve the purpose'," she said, using the same pompous tone of voice, while she mimicked the quotes with her fingers around his own words.

Since Lelouch had closed himself in an angry silence, C.C. took note of what she already knew and shrugged her shoulders. "So I'm right. It's just for the scenic effect." She offered him a sarcastic smile with her eyes, while her lips remained colorless. "The Black Knights would be delighted to know that their leader is a seventeen-years-old virgin boy who still plays with the toy soldiers."

Lelouch attempted a protest that he cut off himself by biting his tongue: "I'm not–"

"What?" C.C. teased him with a look that pretended to be honestly curious. "Aren't you a seventeen-year-old boy? Aren't you playing with the toy soldiers?"

C.C. was staring eloquently at the clenched fist in which Lelouch was tightening a chess piece — the Knight, it seemed. So she gave him the opportunity to deny the last remaining alternative. She gave him a lot oftime, because she felt generous... which meant so bored that her only diversion was to prolong his agony.

"The heart of a free man cannot be captured" Lelouch finally said solemnly.

"Who was talking about the heart?" sighed C.C., falling with her back on the bed. Then she snorted. "If you really want to leave a mark on history, try to make yourself memorable with some hot gossip or one day the students will be bored like me now," she advised.

"I'm sorry, a coup d'état is not memorable?" he replied in disbelief.

C.C. dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand, the equivalent of a yawn. "It has stopped to be a novelty before I was born, and that's saying a lot."

Looking at him through her lazily lowered lids, C.C. wondered what his Rubicon was. Maybe the stream that ran through the school campus?

Lelouch looked like he was about to turn around, decreeing that he had honored her enough with his august attention, but she spoke again. "Try doing the forelock swish move when talking to a girl. You don't have a laurel crown on your head, but you do have hair at least... Maybe it makes you attractive."

"What does my hair have to do with it now?" Lelouch asked with an exasperated groan, touching a wisp of his black rebel hair — exactly the move, that of when he brushed it out of his eyes.

C.C. shook her head, discouraged. "Never mind. It doesn't work."