December Rose

Christmas Sorrows

Author: Madisonne

Part: 1/2

Warnings: Yaoi, angst, Christmas-time fic, but couldn't wait to post it!

Disclaimer: For some reason, the people at Bandai keep on forgetting to return my calls... So, no, I don't own them yet. Operative word: YET! MWA HA HA HA HA!!! Ahem... Don't steal, or else I'll sic my demon-chibis on you. Stop laughing! They can strip a cow of its meat in one minute! Or is that piranhas? Hmmm...

Notes: This is sad. Very sad. :-(... Tell me if you like it because it has a happy ending I'll only post if I get at least a couple of reviews! Blackmail, I know...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

" I hate them!" He snarled, slamming the car door angrily behind himself.

Treize sighed heavily; while he agreed with the sentiments of his passenger, the vehemence and sheer volume the man commanded was saddening. "Now, Miri..."

He turned furiously cold blue eyes on the other. "Don't you dare 'Now Miri' me! They're bastards!"

"Miri, dear..."

"Don't you dare patronise me!" He snarled angrily.

Closing the door to the silver Spyder convertible, he slung an arm loosely around the waist of the ex-pilot. "I'm not trying to patronise you; I'm trying to spare the neighbours from our personal worries." He quietly soothed, pulling him towards their two-week-old house.

Clobbering Treize with his arm, Milliardo easily slipped out of the embrace.

Treize, being the wise man he was, had anticipated the move and had hooked his fingers in Milliardo's belt-loop.

Milliardo, being the pissed-off young man he was, used leverage on Treize's arm to break his grip. "Damn you, bastard..." He growled.

The former general shook his head at the man, who stormed ahead into the house. Treize clicked the auto-lock on the car behind him and slowly made his way into the house. He had no arguments with the fact that what had happened to them sucked, but, unlike his more temperamental counter-part, he had already made his peace with the world.

Walking into the empty foyer, he carefully removed and put away his leather jacket and gloves. Hearing the cold 'clank' of metal on metal, he sighed. 'Punching bag time.' A loud 'clang' proved his theory right. 'I need to fix that loop on the chain...'

Proceeding into the kitchen, he picked up the mail the housemaid had set out for them. Flipping through it and finding little of interest, he set Milliardo's mail back down on the table.

Another round of loud clanging made Treize jump violently. Calming his nerves, he sighed heavily. 'Poor Miri...' Both of them took the news poorly, but Milliardo was always the one to show his anger outwardly.

Treize turned on the tap and filled the water-heater with fresh water. While the water started to boil, he opened the china cabinet and pulled out the tea set. Locating a tea bag, he placed it into the pot.

Pouring the now-boiling water into the china pot, he set it to steep and snapped open the cookie jar. He pulled out a handful of pizzelles and arranged them carefully on one of the dishes.

The preparations complete, he picked up the tray and headed off to the solarium, their winter tearoom.

* * * * * * *

Milliardo fell against the punching bag, gasping, entirely out of breath and exhausted. Pushing back the errant strands of hair, which had slipped from his hastily arranged ponytail, he coughed slightly.

Calming himself slowly, he roughly brushed away his tears and made his way out of the room.

The stairs at the end of the hall were his point of focus; he couldn't bring himself to look at the room in which he and Treize had put so much effort. 'Damn them to all hells...'

Thumping down the stairs, he headed straight for the solarium, where he found Treize with a pot of tea ready. He smiled slightly and sat down on the couch next to the other man.

Wordlessly, Treize handed his friend a cup of freshly poured tea.

He accepted it with a nod and another half-smile. Wrapping his hands around the china, he drew on the heat of the liquid to soothe the ache spreading through his palms. Milliardo shifted his weight so his back was resting against Treize's side. "It isn't fair."

"I know, love, I know." He pulled the younger man against him and set down his teacup.

"We worked so hard..." He sniffed.

Treize ran his fingers through the silky hair of the other. "I know."

He looked around at the Christmas decorations they had already put up. Somehow, the tree seemed less attractive, the ornaments sans sparkle. Sensing that the tea was cool enough to sip, he drank a bit, trying to forget the trials the day had brought.

"Your sister will tell us that it's all for the best, I suppose." He observed.

"Do you still want to go tomorrow?"

Treize pondered not going for a second. After all, some people might not be fooled by the simply guise he adopted after the war; allowing his hair to fall into the 'rumpled schoolboy' look didn't necessarily constitute a foolproof disguise.

Transferring bank accounts, the two war veterans had established a very private, quiet life. Perhaps too quiet for his friend's taste, but it allowed them to remain in anominity - just where they wished to be together. "Of course, if you do."

"Well, I don't really have a strong urge to go visit my sister, but I suppose I ought to put in an appearance." He smiled lightly. "Besides, I have a date at my beck and call."

Treize's chuckling reverberated through them both. "Don't be such a beetle."

"I'm not a beetle!" He mock whined, holding his teacup above and behind his head so his pillow could have a sip of the hot liquid.

"Yes, you are." He replied, matter-of-factly, then drinking some of the offered tea.

"Humph..." Pouting always worked.

"Oh, fine. You're a very cute beetle, is that better?"

"Quite." He smiled at his victory.

* * * EARLIER * * *

"Mr. Peacecraft? I can see you now." A spunky girl with a nametag reading 'Rose' called into the reception room.

Going through the same door his companion had passed through nearly ten minutes ago, the young man smiled. "I really appreciate all your help these past few months, Rose."

She smiled kindly at him and led him to her desk, one of five in a row. "Do you have the final papers?"

Milliardo pulled out a manila folder and slid it across the desk, eager to get the paper work straightened out.

"Mm-kay." She slid a finger under the seal and opened the packet. Scrutinising each page, she took out a purple pen and signed off on each sheet.

"Purple?" He questioned.

She shrugged carelessly. "It's a happy colour."

He smiled.

"Now," she set her pen down on the desk. "We have to deal with the superficial stuff. Are you still undecided as to your new child's background?"

"Just a minute." He turned down to where Treize was talking to another attendant. "Do we still not want to specify, love?"

"Not if you don't." He replied.

"Wait," the woman helping Treize stood up. "You two are... Involved?"

"Well, yes, we were wondering, frankly, why you all kept on separating us for interviews and such." Milliardo admitted.

"We have strict rules on that sort of... Abnormality."

"Now Becca, don't be unkindly..."

"Shut it, Rose. This is a serious matter."

Milliardo and Treize both stood up. "Does this mean..."

"You two will never be able to adopt a child. What kind of organization would we be if we let an innocent child into your perverted hands?!!"

Milliardo paled and clenched his fists angrily.

In response, Treize put a calming arm over his shoulders and glared at the woman. "Then perhaps we will take our secure home to another agency."

They all knew there was no other.

"Good day." Treize pulled Milliardo towards the exit.

* * * * * * *

"Ugh..." Treize moaned. "I always forget why I hate your sister. Then we go visit and I'm reminded of exactly why I hate her."

Milliardo laughed. "I did give you a choice this time."

"Humph, last time you told me we were going to see my parents. Last time I trust you."

"How could you not trust me? I'm such an honest person!" He turned puppy eyes on Treize.

"You're Satan, I tell you, Satan... Or at least related."

"Harsh." He threw over his shoulder at the lounging man.

Shrugging, he flopped over onto his stomach. "I only speak the truth."

"Like shit, Treize, like shit."

"Well, at least we won't have a child to teach the legacy of lies of which you speak." Treize commented, almost bitterly.

"It's better to have a liar for a child than to have none at all." Milliardo was only half-joking.

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault." He smiled wearily. "Maybe we should get a dog instead."

"No, Miri. No."

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Notes: This is sad. Very sad. :-(... Tell me if you like it because it has a happy ending I'll only post if I get at least a couple of reviews! Blackmail, I know...