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Chapter Text

A little while later, Zechs watched Treize raptly as the younger man moved about the rose garden, wondering if it would be appropriate to tell the younger man that the sight was something of a dream come true for the blond.

 

Zechs had personally designed the garden during the early years of the restoration, choosing plants and digging beds by hand, refusing to let any of the army of gardeners that had been hired touch any of it until he was sure it was as complete as he could make it. Many was the early morning that Noin had come out to find him pottering about in it, and she had, more often than not, simply gone to her knees at his side, helping him with whatever he was doing until he indicated he was done. It was one of the things he’d loved about her most – that she could understand so well what demons drove him from their bed and that she never resented the solace he found from them in creating a memorial to the lover she’d replaced.

 

The rose garden was closed to the public and always had been, and though it had started as a monument to a dead general, Zechs knew that over the years it had come to mean many things to many people. For Dorothy and Wufei, it had come to mean everyone they had lost during the wars, Treize amongst them; for Duo and Trowa, it was a place to recall their broken childhoods by its very contrast to what they had grown up with; for Heero and Quatre, it was the representation of the peace they had fought so very hard for, and what they had suffered to achieve it.

 

For Relena, the garden was where she came to contemplate her relationship with Heero – her first love as much as Treize had been Zechs’s. Heero had vanished into thin air for almost two years after Noin’s death, and by the time he returned, he’d been gone long enough that Relena had set aside the last of her childhood, fallen in love with, and married Quatre. As far as Zechs knew, his sister was perfectly happy in her marriage, but that didn’t stop her occasionally coming to the rose garden and thinking about what might have been.

 

As they grew older, the garden had come to mean something for the children, too. It was the place where they’d come to learn of the amazing, frightening history that bound their parents together, hearing stories of mobile suits and battles, grand hopes and sweeping destruction – the revolution and war they were too young to have known. Slowly, as time passed, hearing such first-hand and personal accounts of events that their schoolmates and friends only knew about from textbooks and lessons began to leave its impression, and the garden became more than a collection of flowers for them as well.

 

What Felix and his sister, Helen, saw in it, Zechs had never asked, but Katerina, Relena’s daughter, used it to commemorate the grandparents she had never known – all of them – and Wufei had made it the place where his son came to practice the traditional techniques he was learning.

 

Aleks, Zechs knew, came to garden to mourn his mother, and to remember what a wonderful woman she had been. The King had never thought of keeping the truth of the garden from his son and Aleks, even as a young child, had realised what it said about his mother that she had put so much work into it. More than once, the older man had found his son grieving for his mother amongst the flowers she had helped to plant. Sometimes he’d chosen to join the boy and share his pain; others, he’d slipped away quietly, knowing some things couldn’t be shared and shouldn’t be witnessed.

 

Perhaps only for Une and Mariemeia did the garden mean the same thing as it did for Zechs and they, like him, had spent their time here over the years, and then begun avoiding it altogether.

 

Watching from a corner as Treize moved from bush to bush, his fingers brushing the petals of those in bloom delicately, his head tilting as he inhaled the heavy aroma, Zechs wondered if the younger man recognised the theme of the plants. Every one of them meant something, every one commemorated some particular place or occasion or sentiment that had been important to the two of them.

 

Zechs had poured his soul into the plants the younger man was pottering through at the moment, sinking everything he’d felt for his captain and soul mate into the soil as he worked it – all the love and passion and longing from a lifetime’s intimacy, all the anger and confusion and resentment the events of the War had left him with.

 

It was here that he’d worked through the worst of his grief, too. More than one of the plants had seen his tears as their first watering and more than one was a replacement for an earlier specimen destroyed when he couldn’t bear for another second the knowledge that the man he was creating the garden for would never see it.

 

The place really was a shrine – one that Zechs thought he might finally be able to enjoy as much as other members of his family did. The look on Treize’s face when he’d seen the garden had made all the hours and hours of often heart-breaking work that had gone into it over the years seem worth it.

 

As the King watched Treize make his way to the middle of the garden, following the meandering paths until he reached the focal point, he wondered idly what it would come to mean to the man it had been made for.

 

In the very centre of the garden, alone in a clear space and flanked by two stone benches, a single rose bush had been allowed to grow unchecked. It was wild and straggly, unkempt next to the pruned perfection of the other bushes, but its blooms were perfect – deep red and velvety soft – and it possessed a beauty all its own. Tucked just at the base of the bush was a small stone plinth

 

Zechs knew by the way the man stiffened the moment Treize read the small brass plaque fixed to that stone, and he made his way to one of the benches on silent feet, sitting down as Treize read the words again, saying them silently. Zechs didn’t need to see the plaque to say them with him.

 

For the soldiers of the future – may there be no need for them

For the soldiers of the past – may they never be forgotten

 

“It seemed appropriate,” the older man said softly, when his companion looked at him with eyes that were perhaps too bright. “I thought… you wouldn’t mind the amendment,” he added.

 

Treize shook his head. “Of course I don’t,” he replied, his voice hoarse. He turned slowly, looking over the whole garden. “This is…”

 

“For you,” Zechs answered quietly, wondering if it had been a mistake to bring his friend here so soon. He seemed so close to his limits suddenly that Zechs was a little afraid for him.

 

There was a heartbeat when the blond thought Treize was going to yield, but the younger man simply closed his eyes for a moment, his expression eloquent to his feelings in a way he couldn’t have expressed by any other means. It was probably as open as Zechs had ever seen him be.

 

He opened them again after a time and smiled, his gaze melancholy and joyful both. “That bush needs pruning,” he commented and Zechs smiled back at him gently.

 

“By no one’s hand but yours, my friend,” he answered warmly.

 

 

______________________________________

 

Treize knocked on the door to Zechs’s office an hour or so later, waiting until he heard the other man call for him to come in before he opened the door and stuck his head through it.

 

The older man was sitting behind a wide, ornate mahogany desk with a pen in one hand, a coffee cup in the other and papers strewn all over the polished surface. “I was beginning to wonder whether I’d have to come and drag you out of the rose garden by force,” he quipped. “Was it boredom or curiosity that made you come and find me?”

 

Treize had the grace to flush a little as he stepped into the room, not sure whether to stare at the sheer volume of books, files and papers first, or at the discreet gold-framed glasses Zechs had perched on the bridge of his nose. “A bit of both, I think,” he confessed. “I made myself come to the conclusion that the roses will still be there tomorrow and came inside. Are you busy?”

 

The King smiled. “No more than I normally am. It’s mostly routine – running a kingdom generates a lot of paper.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least. Oz was bad enough, and the Khushrenada estates were worse, though my solicitors usually did most of that for me.” Treize put his head on one side. “I was wondering if that offer to go shopping was still open?”

 

“Of course it is,” Zechs replied. “Like I said, none of this is really urgent and most of it is nothing Relena or Aleks can’t do if I ask them nicely enough. Should I feed you first or would you like to wait until we’re in the city and find somewhere?”

 

“Whichever you’d prefer,” Treize answered. “I’m still not especially hungry, if I’m honest. I think I’ve had one too many shocks this morning for my body to even think about something so normal.”

 

The blond nodded sympathetically. “We’ll eat in the city, then. I know a restaurant with a chef that could tempt a saint. I’ve never known anyone refuse the man’s cooking and you could stand a few decent meals from the way you look. When did you lose weight?”

 

Treize raised a surprised eyebrow. “Is it that obvious?” he wondered.

 

The older man shrugged. “Oh, I’ll grant that it could be my memory playing tricks,” he admitted, “but I don’t think so. I got a fair look at you when I was helping Sally strip you out of your uniform, after all.”

 

That comment had the second eyebrow joining the first. “You have me at a disadvantage, then, I think.” Treize shrugged. “I dropped about half a stone when I was under house arrest in Luxembourg and the same again in the last month or so of the war. It was the same cause both times – stress and too much work. Worrying about you is not good for me.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Zechs retorted, then shook his head. “Sally isn’t going to be pleased. I’d brace yourself for the lecture of a lifetime when she finds out. She has a thing about people making themselves ill for no good reason.”

 

“I take it this ‘Sally’ is a doctor?” Treize asked, his expression rather wary.

 

Zechs smiled at him reassuringly, standing up and stepping out from behind his desk. “She is. Sally Po is the Chief Medical Officer for the Preventers,” he explained as he walked a few steps and came to a stop to lean back against his desk and look at the other man. “She also happens to be a friend and an ex-Alliance Intelligence Officer. She handles most of the family’s medical care already and she seemed like the best choice for you, as well. She’ll be able to keep your identity a secret and she’s familiar with many of the special needs you’re likely to have as a patient.”

 

The younger man nodded a little, frowning. “Medical care was one of things I wanted to ask you about this afternoon, actually,” he said. “Would it be too much to hope that my personal physician is still practicing?”

 

“After twenty-five years?” Zechs reminded, watching as Treize winced at the words. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

 

Treize gave him a careless-looking shrug as a reply. “There are a few matters I should probably discuss with a doctor sometime soon, that’s all, and I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be a complete stranger.” He caught the worried look that touched the blonde’s face and shook his head. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. Just a few odd issues. I have one or two prescriptions that need refilling, and there’s a few things I’d like some advice on but it’s all fairly routine.”

 

Zechs didn’t look convinced. “I see,” he said. “Unfortunately, even if your old doctor is still seeing patients, you can’t go near him. How would you explain who you are?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted, but Sally is very good at what she does and you only have to stick with her until we have an identity in place for you. If you don’t like her, you’ll be free to choose another doctor for yourself as soon as that happens.”

 

The redhead seemed to consider for a moment, his eyes focussed on the bookshelves behind the desk, and then he smiled ruefully. “I’m certain your Sally is perfectly capable, Zechs – I wasn’t questioning that – but some of what I wanted to talk about is a little personal and the idea of doing so with a woman I’ve never met isn’t an entirely comfortable one.”

 

Instant curiosity flared in Zechs’s pale eyes, tempered with a deep concern and layered with a type of amusement Treize didn’t think he’d ever seen in his friend before. There was a moment or two of silence as Zechs looked at the younger man steadily, and then the blond shook his head in a gesture that looked like nothing so much as fond exasperation. “Treize, you have my word that Sally is completely professional,” he started quietly, “and that nothing you say will surprise her, but if her gender is a problem for you with this, then I’m sure she has male colleagues she’d be happy to recommend.” He paused, then continued, “If you’d rather talk to another man, you only need to say so.”

 

Treize blinked at him for a moment, then flushed deeply and looked away, fixing his eyes on the floor. “Ah, that’s not… quite what I meant,” he managed, sounding horribly uncomfortable. “Forgive me, I should have said ‘person I’ve never met’ not ‘woman’. It’s not that kind of personal.”

 

Zechs raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh?”

 

“Not entirely, at any rate,” Treize admitted.

 

That won him a rather knowing smile. “Right. Dare I ask?” Zechs wondered aloud, his eyes sparkling mischievously for a moment.

 

“If you must,” Treize sighed. “It’s not something I’d prefer to tell you but I’m not entirely sure what information you need to have now.”

 

Zechs sobered instantly, straightening away from his desk as he pinned the younger man with a steady gaze. “I need to know if there’s something wrong that could be dangerous to yourself or to anyone else, or if it’s possibly in breach of the law in some way. If none of that is the case, then….” He shrugged.

 

Treize shook his head. “It won’t affect anyone else. It won’t affect me as long as I attend to the matter. As for the law… How much has it changed?” He looked away again, his expression suddenly tired and a little lost.

 

Zechs winced, seeing it, and immediately reached out to put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, squeezing supportively. “Indulge me for a moment,” he said softly. “It’s 194. We’re in your office in Luxembourg. I’m still one of your pilots and you’re still my general. Occasionally we go to bed with each other as we have done since we were both far too young for such things. Are you with me?”

 

Treize nodded, his eyes having drifted closed. “Yes,” he agreed quietly.

 

“Right. Are you going to tell me why you need to speak with a doctor?” Zechs asked

 

“No,” Treize answered immediately. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend. “Absolutely not,” he emphasized.

 

Zechs nodded, squeezing with his hands again. “So, don’t tell me now, either,” he said. He let Treize go slowly and reached behind him to his desk, picking up a slim, folding phone. “You’re currently scheduled to see Sally on Friday morning and it’s Tuesday today. Do I need to move the appointment up?” he asked. “The original idea was to give you a few days to get your bearings before subjecting you to both the Preventers and to full medicals, but that was always open to change if necessary. It won’t be a problem,” he reassured.

 

The younger man took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “It might be a good idea,” he replied. “Another four days on top of the three I was unconscious might be a bit… more than is wise.”

 

“Right.” Zechs flipped the phone open and pressed a button, putting it to his ear. There were a few moments when nothing happened and then the phone lit up and Treize could hear the tinny whisper of someone speaking on the other end.

 

“Anne?” Zechs asked. “Sorry to bother you at work. I need to speak to Sally and I wasn’t for dealing with your switchboard.” There was another pause. “Yes, my dear, I realise that you aren’t a receptionist.” He smiled. “No, we’re all fine. It’s simply that the appointment for our newest addition needs moving up. Sorry?” Zechs asked, then took the phone away from his ear for a moment and rolled his eyes at the younger man. “No,” he said. “No, he’s fine.”

 

Treize watched in not inconsiderable surprise as the blond smiled affectionately, leaning over his desk to pick up a pen and notepad. “I don’t know. No. No, I… What do you mean, why? Because I didn’t ask! It’s not my business.” He winced suddenly. “Anne, love… Anne! Down, girl!”

 

Treize blinked and struggled to keep himself from choking. Was Zechs really talking to whom Treize thought he was? The general would have been willing to bet it would have taken more than a quarter of a century to get those two on civil terms.

 

“I don’t know,” Zechs continued after another pause. “Well, because he told me he could do to speak with a doctor sooner rather than later, that’s why, and I’m assuming he’s still mentally intact enough to know his own medical needs.” Zechs shook his head. “No, I haven’t asked him about that, either, and I’m not going to. Let the poor boy have one day’s peace, will you?”

 

Treize caught and held Zechs’s eyes at that, raising one eyebrow. ‘Poor boy?’ he mouthed, letting his expression convey what he thought of being referred to in such a fashion.

 

Zechs just shrugged, smiling. “For the love of God, woman!” he sighed. “Just let me speak to Sally, will you? I’m using the switchboard next time – which was probably your intention all along!” He paused again, then bit his lip. “All right, just hang on…” He took the phone away from his ear, and covered the pick-up with one hand. “Treize?” he asked, looking at the younger man. “Une,” he said, gesturing with the phone. “Do you want to speak with her?”

 

Treize went still, looking at the phone, then slowly shook his head. “No…no, I’d rather not. There are some things that I… No.”

 

Zechs raised a curious eyebrow. “All right.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that, Anne, Relena wanted to speak to me. Treize isn’t here right now for you to speak to, I’m afraid. He’s out in the gardens but I’ll tell him you asked for him. You’ll see him whenever he comes to see Sally anyway. What? No, I am not feeding you a line. No!” He laughed down the phone. “All right. Yes, I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow. Thanks, Anne.”

 

Zechs put the phone face down on his shoulder whilst he chuckled and shook his head. “Honestly, that woman is a dreadful mother-hen sometimes. I’m sure she thinks you’re lying somewhere bleeding to death now, but never mind.” He lifted the phone again as someone began talking on the other end of it. “Sally. Hello.”

 

For a few seconds, Zechs just listened silently, then he nodded. “I’ll tell him. He’s why I’m calling, actually. Can we reschedule that appointment?” There was another pause, then Zechs looked over at Treize again. “Will tomorrow morning do? She says she can swing past here this evening if it’s something that won’t keep, but you’ll end up having to go in and see her anyway before the end of the week for a full exam. She’d rather do both at once.”

 

Treize nodded. “Tomorrow is fine,” he agreed. “If I’d known I was going to cause such a fuss…” he started.

 

Zechs waved him off, turning back to his phone. “Tomorrow, Sally. I’ll drive him in myself.” He smiled again and nodded, though the woman on the other end wouldn’t be able to see it. “All right, thanks. Bye.”

 

A few seconds later, he closed the phone and put it back on his desk. “Problem solved. She’ll see you in her office tomorrow morning, whenever you’re ready. Apparently, you have to dress exam-friendly – she told me to apologise in advance for all the tests she wants to run on you.”

 

Treize sighed. “Lovely.” He gave Zechs a look that was a little apologetic. “Really, though, you didn’t need to go to that much trouble.”

 

The King smiled gently. “Treize, one phone call does not count as ‘trouble’, and even if it had, I wouldn’t have minded. I want you as comfortable here as we can make you, as quickly as possible, and decent medical provision will play no small part in that.” He glanced away, pushing away from his desk and moving to straighten some papers. “It’s probably best if you get to know Sally now at any rate, just in case…” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence, and continued to tidy his desk.

 

The redhead blinked, watching him do it for a minute or two. “Just in case what?” he asked eventually, wondering.

 

Zechs shrugged. “Just in case.” He turned back around a moment later and smiled brightly. “But we can cross that bridge if we come to it. You might well not.” He put his head on one side, letting the forced expression fade slightly. “You said that medical care was one of the things you wanted to ask me about this afternoon. What were the others?”

 

Treize raised an eyebrow, considering. “I have quite a list, actually,” he said, deciding not to push for the time being. “But the next most important item would probably be to ask about the state of my finances.” He shrugged diffidently. “It’s all very well you saying you’ll take me shopping,” he added, “but can I actually pay for any of this stuff I need, or should I be asking you to lend me the money until I can work out what I’m going to do with myself now?”

 

“Treize,” Zechs replied, his voice mild, “when I said I was taking you shopping, I meant ‘I am taking you shopping’, not ‘I am accompanying you whilst you shop’. There’s no question of you paying for any of this yourself. You’ll have enough to cope with this afternoon already; I’ll handle the financial side of it.”

 

Treize met his friend’s gaze and then shook his head. “Ah, I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “If the situation is such that I can’t…”

 

The blond raised a hand to cut him off. “You can. You simply aren’t.” He moved around his desk again and sat back down in his chair. “I’m not doing this for charity’s sake, my friend,” he explained. “I have some very good reasons for it – starting with the fact that you are my friend and you need help.”

 

Treize took a step closer to the desk, his expression set. “That’s hardly grounds for…”

 

Zechs looked at him, then smiled. “Isn’t it? All right. If that stings your pride too much, then how about this – I’d be doing nothing for you that your family didn’t do for me when you took me in. Consider it repayment of a Royal debt.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Treize fired back. “What debt? You were a child, you’d lost everything – do you think my family even noticed the cost of a few sets of clothes and some toys?”

 

“You make my point for me,” Zechs commented quietly, and Treize glared at the comparison.

 

“I’m hardly a child!” he spat.

 

Zechs looked at him levelly, the look in his eyes unreadable. “No,” he said softly. “You aren’t.” He searched the younger man’s face, seeming to look for something. He looked away again after a few seconds and reached down to a drawer in his desk.

 

He withdrew a slim, blue folder and held it out to the other man. “The state of your finances as of close of business yesterday,” he explained. “I had a feeling you’d ask,” he added when Treize seemed taken aback.

 

“I… thank you,” the younger man said, taking the folder.

 

“Thank Quatre, not me. It was almost the first thing he thought of once we had the DNA tests authenticating your identity back. He’s been working on it ever since.” Zechs stood up again and made his way to stand by Treize’s side. “I’d suggest you leave reading it till this evening, or even tomorrow – it’s quite a complex document. The gist of it is that, although Quatre is far from finished with his work, you have enough money that you’ll never actually need an income.”

 

Treize glanced up, startled. “Has he made some sort of mistake then? Because in terms of liquid assets, I was never that well off. My day-to-day living expenses were always drawn from my salary; most of the capital I inherited was in the form of solid commodity, or entailed to pay for the upkeep of the family holdings.”

 

Zechs shook his head. “No mistakes. Just some clever number crunching.” He shrugged. “There are several sources for the money, actually. Some of it is from bank accounts of yours that have been in stasis since the war, some more from payments released to you by Une on behalf of the various Soldiers Funds and War Pensions she’s executor for these days – all money that has been accruing interest for twenty-five years. My Treasury owed most of the rest to you. A lot of what I inherited from you, I poured into the Kingdom when we were struggling to rebuild; that’s all been paid back to you, adjusted for inflation and exchange rates. Too, the Crown has been holding and using several assets that are rightfully yours for a good number of years now – property, artwork, plate, that sort of thing. You’ve been compensated for the loan, and the assets have been released back to you. The figures in there are nowhere near complete, of course – three days hasn’t been nearly enough time to start making sense of some of the issues involved. They’ll probably at least triple before things are straight – or so Quatre tells me.” Zechs shrugged. “One way or another, you have money. I took the liberty of dumping some of it into an account I opened. It’s in my name because we don’t have a legal identity for you, but I had the bank issue a second card that could be used by ‘any member of my household.’ You’ll find it in the back of the folder.”

 

Treize had been listening to the explanation silently, scanning his eyes over some of the papers in the folder rapidly. He flipped to the back of the folder at Zechs’s last words, quickly locating the little data card.

 

He tugged it free of its slot and then looked down at it blankly. “Zechs, I don’t…”

 

“Recognise the bank card, or the currency?” the blond asked. “You won’t. The currency was standardised throughout the ESUN about fifteen years ago. That type of security card is about five years old.” He smiled gently. “This would be the other reason why I’m paying for this shopping trip and not you. Even if I couldn’t just write off anything we spend as Expenses – which I can – I don’t imagine you want to take the time to learn the monetary system and how to use that card before we go shopping?”

 

Treize stared at the card, trying to familiarize himself with the currency sign. “How does it work?” he asked after a moment of looking.

 

“How does what work?” Zechs queried. “The card, or the currency?”

 

“Both,” Treize admitted.

 

The older man shook his head. “I was hoping to save explaining things like that for another day,” he began, and was cut off when Treize shook his head.

 

The redhead looked up at his friend, fingering the small, plastic card uneasily, fingertips brushing over the surface of the inlaid data chip and the raised, embossed sigil in the top left corner that indicated it had been issued by the Royal Bank of the Sanc Kingdom. “I need to know, Zechs. I’m helpless here without information like that.”

 

“I doubt that, Treize,” Zechs replied. “You’ve never been helpless in your life.”

 

The last thing Zechs expected was for Treize to laugh softly, the sound short and jaded. “Have I not?” he asked, and shook his head. “You have no idea.” The expression on his face was tinged with bitterness, not something Zechs was familiar with seeing.

 

The older man put a hand out automatically, reaching to comfort, or soothe, or something that would wash that look away. Boredom, hostility, contempt, cunning, condescension, even a certain amount of cynicism – those were all expressions Zechs was familiar with Treize displaying, but not bitterness, never bitterness. That was a feeling that had been reserved exclusively for him. It made him take a close look at his old commander, seeing fine lines at the corners of his eyes that belied his youth, and a tightness to the set of his mouth and shoulders that was completely new to Zechs’s experience of him.

 

It was enough to remind the blond that, although he’d been counting the time of Treize’s ‘death’ from the Christmas Eve he’d apparently died on, the two of them had actually been apart some time longer, having not seen each other – or even really spoken – since Zechs had run from Oz in the August of 195. The topic of that separation was another one of the hundreds that had yet to be raised between the two of them, and Zechs had been regarding it as of less importance than many others – one to be dealt with sometime in the future when they had a quiet evening and nothing else more significant to handle.

 

He was forced to wonder now whether that was another thing he needed to rethink. Treize hadn’t raised the topic either but something must have happened in those four long months to grant him the expression he was wearing; whatever it was, it hadn’t been in any of the accounts of that time Zechs had read. Neither his resignation, his house arrest, nor his return to power should have had that effect on the younger man.

 

“Treize…?” he questioned, settling his hand over the one the redhead was holding the folder with.

 

The former general remained still for a moment, then looked up and banished everything else behind a bright smile. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I’ve gotten rather a tendency for introspection lately. Feel free to snap me out of it if I do it again.”

 

Zechs nodded his assent, caught off guard and feeling unsure of what to do next.

 

Treize solved that problem for him, too. “If I promise not to ask too many questions, will you explain the currency and the card to me on the drive into the city?” he asked coaxingly.

 

The blond couldn’t help but smile. “Of course I will.” He took the folder back from the younger man, freed the card from its slot and passed it back to Treize, and then tossed the folder onto his desk. “Shall we, then? If I’m remembering your shopping habits correctly, one afternoon isn’t going to be nearly long enough!”

 

“Hey!”

 

The good-natured protest from Treize was accompanied by a light shove from one hand – a gesture Zechs used shamelessly as he caught the younger man’s hand and wrapped it firmly in his own as he pulled and drew Treize into a light hug.

 

He released him a moment later and danced out of the way of the next chiding slap aimed in his direction, before turning to the door and inviting the red head to follow him with a winning smile.

 

“You haven’t lost your reaction time, then,” Treize commented as he drew level again.

 

“Very little of it,” Zechs admitted. “This way,” he gestured.