Karina, many thanks again for reviewing! I think these two allow room for complex interpretation, and they come across as an absolute powerhouse. Well, here goes another instalment.
Lightning Arc 5 - Winter
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: M for references to an intimate Zechs/Treize relationship.
Pairing: Zechs and Treize
Warnings: m/m love and some references to m/m sex, some swearing - and still nothing explicit (although they do remember a few of their closer encounters).
Spoilers: everywhere, in all my stories
Summary: see Chapter 1.
xxx
Chapter 6 - Cornered
Treize slipped out when dawn broke, to chop some wood by the shed behind the house, light the fire and make tea. Shaking a sleepy Zechs awake and handing him a glass of the steaming drink, he laughed at the bleary-eyed glare he received. "You are getting complacent, my friend," he said softly, his tone anything but admonishing, while Zechs scrambled back to awareness.
Treize stripped and crawled back under the covers; Zechs tried to flinch away because he was cold, but Treize laughed and pressed close, tracing chill fingers over the younger man's stomach. A trail of goosebumps followed his touch, and the teaglass in Zechs' hand shook a little. "Tea stains are a bitch to wash out," he groaned, squirming, his eyes glinting beneath dense white lashes.
"Oh? Then I suggest," Treize let his index finger wander, circling his navel and tracing the dusting of hair that ran from there further down, "you exercise a measure of self-control appropriate to the situation, soldier." And let his hand settle between Zechs' legs.
Zechs' eyes flew open, his muscles tensed, and a tremor ran through him. He managed to lean out of the bed to set the glass on the floorboards, and in the same instant, Treize spooned around him, one arm around his waist, the other combing through messy blond. "You look so innocent when you sleep."
With an effort, Zechs turned in his hard embrace and clamped one long leg over his thighs. "When all I have are rather... inappropriate dreams about my commanding officer."
"Did you dream?"
A small pause, pale eyes sinking into intensely blue ones, then a soft, "No. Since... I don't know how long, I slept without dreams."
Without nightmares, Treize thought as he touched Zechs' temple, smoothing back some tangled silver strands, let his fingers wander down his friend's neck to his shoulder and began to knead deftly. "Headaches?"
Zechs went limp under the massage and let his head sink against Treize's shoulder. "No, doctor," he muttered.
Treize smiled into the blond mess. "Are we being insolent now?"
"Hmph." Another brief break, then, "Don't patronise me."
"Would I ever?"
"You do it all the time." Slightly sharper then.
"Oh?" All feigned hurt.
"Yesss," an annoyed hiss.
"But-" The cellphone buzzed. Treize swore under his breath and fished for the phone under his pillow, but Zechs was quicker and swept it out of his reach, holding it up and narrowing his eyes as he read the display.
"Give it to me," Treize demanded quietly, all lightness gone from his voice, and Zechs obeyed.
Treize switched the call off without looking twice, and dropped the phone on the floor.
"Five missed calls," Zechs said darkly, "and all from Une." He turned onto his back and angled one arm over his eyes. Treize never missed calls, especially not from his adjutant, and Une would not disturb him unless she had no choice. And he rarely set the phone to buzzing instead of ringing, usually not even during his most strenuous meetings with Foundation officials.
A long silence settled between them, before Treize touched his arm. "Let us have our tea before it freezes over."
"You know what she wants?"
"It's tepid already; perhaps I should top it up with some hot water."
"Tre!"
Abruptly, Treize got up and padded into the lounge, without caring to pick up his clothes. Zechs lay still for a moment, before turning onto his stomach and hugging the pillow against his chest. He dug his face into the feathery softness and finally yielded to the latent burning inside him. It flooded him like a riptide, in one deep, violent, searing wave; it took him under and stole his breath, and for the first time since he had decided to follow his conscience alone, he was afraid.
Wracked by doubt. Conscience such a trifling thing. The magnitude of what he had planned hitting home without mercy. And he felt as cold as space without the familiar warmth, the touch that had guided his entire life, the safety of trust and affection.
The mattress dipped, lips touched his shoulderblade, a whisper by his ear, "Drink while it's warm. Please."
He was afraid to let go of the pillow against his face. He was afraid to look up, scared of what he would see, what he would have to confront.
"It's scalding my fingers." Another kiss, then a sigh, barely audible. He could feel Treize sit back against the headboard and gently plump up the cover as he pulled it over Zechs' bare upper back.
When the younger man dared to turn, it was only enough to catch a glimpse of Treize who sat still, legs drawn up against his chest, the cover a white mountain from which only his head protruded, and his hands that curled around the tea.
Zechs could not help but meet his eyes over the rim of the glass.
He had known Treize's eyes sharp, keen, harsh, and cruel. He had seen them blank, or passionate, occasionally washed out with exhaustion. Often sparkling with mischief, laughing, in all shades of amusement, and sometimes watery with physical pain. For him, they had also softened with affection and tenderness, or filled with longing. But there had always been a small reserve. A screen that skilfully hid Treize's most private thoughts, the inner sanctum that no one, not even Zechs, was able to breach, not even in their most intimate moments.
Now he was allowed to see those eyes bare and unguarded, sore and tired.
And he was shocked to see his pain mirrored there, in all its tearing intensity.
For a moment, Treize looked old.
Outside, snow drifted against the window. The horses milled around in their pen and wickered nervously. A draft pressed through the moss-filled gaps in the walls, and in the chimney whined the wind. It smelled of woodsmoke and ashes, of raw timber, stale tea, and a bit of dank clothes. The day was gloomy, unwilling to rise, and unlikely to brighten. Soon, the wind would pick up strength and drive the snow in swirling swathes. If they stayed put, the masses of frosty whiteness might bury them before nightfall.
It seemed a good idea.
Treize broke away first, wiping his eyes, shaking his head a little, before finishing his tea. He set the glass down on the tray and scooted back under the cover, letting himself sink deep into the downy softness. He drew Zechs close and wound his arms around his waist. For a while, they lay still, heartbeat to heartbeat, breath mingling, soaking up one another's warmth and scent.
They both jumped when the phone buzzed again.
Treize took oddly long to pick up the call. He fumbled to free his hand from the folds of the cover, then to grab the phone, and his fingers trembled a little when he pressed the receive button. "Da?" His voice sounded rough, and he half-turned away from Zechs as he spoke. "Da. Spasibo, Colonel. Da, ya charasho. Konezhno, sluzhayu."(1) A long pause before he covered his eyes with one hand. He was listening to Une without interrupting her, until he finally said, "We are on our way."
He ended the call and let his hand with the phone sink into the cover. "I had Lieutenant Noin's movements monitored, along with all of her communication. It appears she found what you were seeking." He hesitated before adding, "I have been summoned back to attend a hearing about some personal issues."
"Summoned?" No more than a weary croak.
The cover rustled softly as Treize turned back to kiss Zechs on the tip of his nose. "An order I cannot evade."
The words hung in the chill air, a tiny whisp of white, a frosty mist that slowly dispersed. To Zechs, they could have been an ice block, crushing him, and he was suddenly loath of the cold. So he said the first thing that sprang to his mind when he thought of summer, warmth, and the dreams they were about to bury. "Do you remember that ball at Dorothy's?"
Treize's arms safely around him. "Yes. Her house warming party."
"I'd have called that a lump of steel and glass a hangar, not a house."
"You did."
"I could not help it."
"Diplomacy never was your forte. You were annoyed because the invitation was addressed to 'His Excellency General Khushrenada, and Colonel Marquise'." The hint of a smile in his tone. "She set out to scratch your pride a little, and I think she knew rather well how to achieve just that."
A soft snort. "Last time I checked, I was not your wife."
"I would not allow you to wear heels."
"Don't." A plea, laced with sudden pain.
A kiss, barely touching his lips. "I'm sorry." Another kiss, softer still. "Forgive me."
Zechs slipped his arms around his companion's shoulders. "Yes... You had invited Lucy."
"To surprise you. I thought you would be pleased to see her."
"I was."
"You looked... content together."
"You watched us dancing. From that door to the balcony. You were half-hiding in the folds of that curtain, and you were drinking too much and smoking. I can count on one hand the times I caught you smoking."
"A whim. Unhealthy."
"Like-
Another kiss, stopping the words before they could slip and cut. "You were annoyed that I insisted on sitting next to you during that dreadful chamber concert."
"You created a stir by asking that girl to clear off so you could take her seat. And then you fell asleep."
"It was terribly boring."
"You were snoring."
"No."
"Yes. With all due decorum, I admit, and very softly; no-one would have guessed just from looking at you, but... how do you do it?"
"What?"
"Sleeping with your eyes open."
"Practice," Treize suggested, a smile painting tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "I guess my mother subjected me to too many bouts of this kind of music at a tender age."
"Trying to rein in your temper, no doubt."
"Or calm herself. It was a bit rude of you to wake me."
"You were groping me."
"Hmph." A warm hand sliding from Zechs' waist to his hip, down to his thigh, and back up on the inside, but the touch was tender, oddly reluctant, and stilled before reaching the junction of thigh and groin. "You were wearing too much."
"We were in public." Zechs reached down between them to seize Treize's wrist, and shoved his hand firmly where he wanted it.
He was soft, and Treize gently kneaded his flesh. "Those trousers..."
"I hate dress uniform."
"It does not hide much." A small pause, then the hand that cupped his crotch slipped back up over his belly to rest over his heart. "You stood Lucy up."
Zechs wrapped his arms around his friend again. "No. She told me she'd be around when I needed her, and went to join Une."
Another long silence, before Treize said, "She is good for you."
"You trying to match me up?"
"Who better than me?" Treize countered quietly.
Zechs' embrace of him tightened harshly. "What are you saying? Tre, what are you planning? This war will end, like all wars do; sooner or later we'll strike arms, and then... we'll have a life. We'll have done our job; we'll be able to leave this shit behind and live."
"Yes." Without the slightest hesitation.
"You said you'd be with me."
"Forever."
"Forever." Nails pressing into firm flesh, leaving bloodshot half-moon patterns just below Treize's shoulder blades. "You promised. I trust you. I always trusted you, but you don't trust me."
"Sometimes, trust is such a burden." Fingers lacing gently into silver strands.
"Then share it."
"There is no need to weigh you down with my troubles."
"Because I can't handle it? 'Cos I'm failing you? Or am I not worth it?"
"This does not deserve an answer."
"You told me about informed choices. Won't you afford me one now? I have a right to decide for myself."
"So do I." Unyielding, brittle, frosty.
A choked gasp, then silence for a long time. Snow gathered on the small ledge outside the window and half-obscured the ice-painted glass panes. A world of grey and white, all signs of life muffled and stifled under layer upon layer of tiny ice crystals. Inside, the little house began to thaw from the fire that hummed in the stove, and around the window frame, melting water seeped into the wood, darkening it from bleached grey to sullen black.
"I recall that we got a bit drunk," Treize picked up their talk, his tone softened and almost easy again. "And you looked stunning, a little flushed and sweaty, with your hair stuck to your temples and trailing about your cheeks. The girls were fairly swarming around you, and you seemed to enjoy the attention they lavished on you."
No answer.
He caressed Zechs' hair. "I do admit I felt somewhat... left out."
Still no reply.
"You were laughing about their jokes and accepting drinks from them even though I thought you had had enough already. You got wobbly and were leaning on two of the pretty damsels, while I was wondering whether I should save you from distress, and whether that would make me your knight. When all I really wanted was lay you right there on the dance floor."
A deep, painful sigh. Zechs voice was hoarse as he said, "You aren't known for your charitable intentions. You grabbed me for the next dance and swung me around a few times, pretending to merely get me out onto the terrace."
Treize laughed. "You were mortified."
Zechs huffed. "You created a minor scandal."
"They were all hoping for one. I think they enjoyed it."
"You were jealous."
A kiss on his cheek, a heated whisper, "Blindingly so."
Zechs sagged into him a bit more. "Sometimes, you don't make sense."
"No."
"You asked me to go for a walk in the park with you, to show me the roses."
"They were at their best, in full bloom, and the scent... it grows stronger in the evening. Besides, it had grown too hot inside, and muggy with all this sweaty perfume and tobacco, alcohol and burning candles."
"It was warm outside, too. And dark."
"But not as pongy. That park... so many old trees, it reminded me of here. And the moon was almost full. You know what your hair looks like when the moonlight shines on it?"
"Are you going all soppy on me now?"
"Am I?"
"Yes."
Discreetly, Treize cleared his throat. "My people... we like being a little sentimental now and then."
"I noticed."
"Oh..." Treize pondered. "Well, we never reached those roses, did we?"
"You pretended to have lost your way."
"You did not argue."
"With your hands down my pants – how could I?"
"I could not resist. You were drunk, and yielding, and-" He paused, then, suddenly anxious, "I hope it was what you wanted?"
"To be dragged unceremoniously into the shrubs and be done with the aid of a spit and a prayer?"
Deep, edgy silence, before Treize let go of a long breath and tugged at a fistful of blond. "I admit this IS a bit late to ask. Even though," a tactful little cough, tone guilty and a tad hopeful, "I'd say you were a rather... enthusiastic participant in our activities."
With a tense chuckle, Zechs let his eyes drift shut. "I guess it doesn't count that I complained about scratches from the damn shrubs..."
"Afterwards. You complained afterwards." Treize settled his hand on his partner's hip and gently pushed at him until he rolled bonelessly onto his back, one leg pulled up slightly, the other one caught beneath Treize's thigh. "And I dare say I did not just use a prayer. You took ages to sort out your hair when we got back, not to mention that you were extremely cranky with me for the rest of the night."
"Don't be smug now. I had to steal into my room, those tangles were a bitch to get out, and there was no conditioner in the bathroom."
Treize laughed lightheartedly. "I did offer help." Sliding his hand over a muscular arm that twitched nervously.
"I had had about enough of that. Stop tickling me"
"Are you still angry at me? You soaked my pillow because you skipped drying up."
"I was knackered. And it was my pillow."
The hand tangled in swathes of silverblond. "Hm. I never figured out how you can fit all that hair under your pilot's cap."
"I wind it... oh, damn you – stop teasing me already!"
"Yes, of course. How would you want me to-"
"Man, Treize!" A violent twist, thwarted by the swift, hard clasp of Treize's arms.
"Ah, I see. Not in the mood. You were still flushed at breakfast the next morning."
A token struggle, along with a deep, sullen groan. "No, I was flushed again because not only did you spent the night in my room, but you just had to order room service, and managed to receive the girl with nothing but a towel pressed to your crotch."
"You loved it."
Zechs blushed a furious crimson. "I did not!"
Treize's smile took on a decidedly wicked edge. "So you thought it safer to hide in the hangar and check over the jet?"
"I was NOT hiding!"
Treize shrugged. "Everyone was asking for you."
"Jesus, Treize!"
"So I decided to call you."
Zechs squirmed. "The military communication systems are NOT meant for private, err... messages."
"You were getting off on it."
"Phone sex via the intercom – bloody hell, if your soldiers knew..."
"Some do."
"What?"
Treize pressed one hand on his shoulder to hold him still, and let his other hand ghost over the younger man's chest, only grazing his nipples. "Well. One does."
Zechs sucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down hard to swallow another groan. He did grunt when he was pinched gently. "Ngh... military... ah... stop this... communi... good grief, Treize – communication gets monitoried."
"I used my secure channel." A kiss to his temple, then a tentative lick. "And I trust you were bright enough to turn off the monitor in the jet. You taste salty. Like in the bushes."
"I'm no lollipop."
"I would argue the case. The ladies thought you were eyecandy. I had to try, and I know better. That morning, I was looking out into the park while I was talking to you, with Une and Lucy sitting at the table behind me."
Zechs flung one arm over his face even as he tried hard not to press into the touch of this skilled hand. "Oh, to Hell with you..."
"I don't think they could quite hear what I said." Another stroke, a bit firmer, warm skin on shivering skin.
"I... really... hah... hope so."
"I would not do this to you. But it was nice to listen to you-"
Zechs gasped and could not swallow a deep, throaty sigh as firm fingers roamed over his flank, down to his raised thigh, and pushed softly but insistently at his knee. "Yes," Treize murmured, "you sounded like this. And I imagined you slumped into the pilot's seat, with your hands down HERE." He demonstrated, and Zechs twisted and bit into his shoulder. "I hope you had the earpiece on?" Treize whispered harshly into his ear.
"Hell, ye... ah," came the muffled reply, tone veering on the brink of losing it, "Just managed to switch over from... mmmh... the speakers 'cos the mechanics... oh God... were getting suspicious."
"You could have cut me off."
"That...", strained between clenched jaws, "would have merited... shit... disciplinary action... according to section... five..." Zech's breath gave out and he clawed at Treize's upper arm as he threw back his head and dug it into the pillow with abandon.
"Specials Code of Conduct, regulations for the use communication equipment, article one, paragraph a... You permitted ME to breach the regs."
"Not for – me – to – judge..."
"You could have complained about harassment."
A sharp, breathless laugh, somewhere between desperation and need. "And show... my stained trousers for proof?"
Treize chuckled and let go of him down there to cup his chin and pull him into a deep kiss. "A difficult situation indeed."
"Sticky, I'd say," Zechs managed tightly.
"The parameters were certainly off."
"Yours too? You hit bulls eye anyway. Did you... I mean, with the girls... sitting right behind you..."
"I had to go to the bathroom. You can talk dirty, you know that?" Treize shifted his knee up a little and dropped his voice to a husky murmur. "Let me?"
"Hurry up," a raw hiss through gritted teeth. "I'm dying here."
xxx
Resting in the afterglow, they drifted in the timeless grey light that trickled through the almost-snowed shut windows. The edges of those wads of snow shimmering white at the edges, darkening to a dull grey where they rested densely against the small window panes. The fire had burned down to cooling embers, covered in ashes, and another layer of ice blooms was growing on the glass. The black patches of dampness around the frame and the bottom half of the wooden walls were glittering with frost that slowly crept higher as the little house chilled.
"You always had the knack of doing this," Zechs said into the thick silence, watching his and Treize's breath forming dense white clouds above their faces.
"Hm?"
"To shut me up by sleeping with me." His tone was factual, free of accusation.
"I didn't mean to, Miliusha."
"I'm not complaining."
Treize turned and met his eyes, his face calm, his eyes still as they sought and held the pale blue gaze of his friend. "Do you regret?"
Pale as ice, cool and serene. "No."
"Nothing?"
"No.
"Neither do I. Not what I have done, or what I will be doing."
"What will you be doing, Tre?"
"I will end this war for good."
"What if-"
"And I will be waiting for you."
Zechs closed his eyes. "Say something in Russian," he begged quietly.
And Treize leaned into him so that his lips touched a frost-pale ear, and murmured, "Ah, Miliusha moy..." A whisper of a kiss, barely there, and then, with great tenderness, "Ya tebya lyublyu."(2)
xxx
Next chapter: Wild Goose Chase
Notes:
(1) Da... – Yes. Thank you, Colonel. Yes, I'm fine. Of course, I'm listening.
(2) Miliusha moy... Ya tebya lyublyu. – Miliusha mine... I love you.
