Breakfast At Tiffany's
by Lara
January 2001

This is a work of amateur fiction and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Truman Capote, Henry Mancini, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency, Asahi TV, and Bandai Visuals. No profit is being made.

Spoilers for Breakfast At Tiffany's.

Happy Birthday Mom!



Seen from the outside, the Luxembourg base seemed to be deep asleep. Only a few lit windows were casting light into the darkness outside, causing the surrounding gardens to be filled with shadows that looked like beasts out of legends, and only under closer observation revealed themselves as branches, bushes and trees. The fog gave an additional enhancement to the scene. Like a glimpse into a fairy tale the parks seemed. Humid air was freezing on the last leaves left on the trees, covering them with white.

Nobody was outside apart from the soldiers assigned to guard duty, and even they refrained from patrolling the frozen wonderland, preferring instead to stay close to the walls, in niches and in doorways.

Behind the glass of one of the illuminated windows, two young men were cuddling on a wide couch, a soft wool blanket wrapped snugly around them. On the table in front of them two mugs of cocoa sent steam swirling into the air, between them a plate with the last leftover cookies from Christmas. The smell of the open fire that danced merrily in the fireplace mingled with those of chocolate and cinnamon.

"Cookie," Zechs told Treize, who had maneuvered himself into a spot where he could comfortably rest his head against the shoulder of his lover, keeping him tucked in between his own smaller body and the backrest of the couch. Zechs would not be able to leave without dumping him to the floor, but it also meant that Treize was the only means of contact between Zechs, the cocoa, and the Christmas treats. He should have remembered that.

Obediently he reached out, selected a cinnamon star and fed it to the other man, receiving a warm smile and a brushing kiss over his fingertips in return. Then he cuddled back down again, rearranged the blanket a little, and returned his attention to the television screen.

"The phone's over there," Audrey Hepburn was saying. "Well, it was. Oh, I remember! I stuck it in the suitcase 'cause it muffles the sound."

An arm tightened around Treize's waist. "You ought to follow her example from time to time, you know?" Lips touched his cheek for a moment. "It is far too easy to get a hold of you."

"Only for you," came the lazy reply. At least tonight, Treize added for himself. He did not like to admit it, but Zechs' words carried some truth. "Just for you, Milliard."

The younger man tensed. "Please don't call me that, Treize."

"I am sorry. But the name suits you so well." Another cookie, a vanilla crescent this time, was picked up and offered in quiet apology. Zechs accepted it, then gathered him closely to himself again. Treize was not sure whether Zechs was hugging him to comfort himself, or to assure him that he was forgiven and that everything was fine.

"I don't even want to own anything until I can find a place where me and things go together," the waifish woman was explaining to George Peppard. "I don't know where that is, but I know what it's like. It's like Tiffany's."

"The movie is nice," Zechs stated appreciatively.

Treize turned his head away from Audrey and towards his lover. "I am glad you like it. I thought it perfect for a peaceful evening." He had always had a faible for old-fashioned art like this.

A kiss was placed on the corner of a mouth, and they returned their attention to cookie eating, cocoa drinking and to trying to understand the concept of the mean reds.

Zechs sighed quietly. "I know what she means with being afraid and not knowing what of."

Sapphire eyes scanned his face, filled with concern, only lighting up when Zechs' returned smile did no longer appear forced. Those mood swings in his lover sometimes worried Treize, especially when they hit without any warning. He edged closer still, raising one of his hands absently to tangle long fingers in cascading white-blond strands.

"Nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then... then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!"

"You are like the cat, my friend," Treize mused. "Nameless until the world is quiet and proud and calms you down in an instant." His face turned solemn "One day I will achieve building that world for you, and then I will name you as you deserve."

This earned him a rather surprised look. "Treize, I..."

"Shh," the older man interrupted him. An almond crescent made its way from the table right to right in front of his face, and a short laugh escaped him.

"Are you trying to cheer me up?"

"I am letting you share what should be my cookies alone. We will only get the next ones in a year's time." Even though Zechs refrained from remarking that there was no law speaking against cookies being baked outside the Christmas season, Treize could read the comment on his face. "They are no true cookies when they are done at any other time than Christmas. They are just biscuits. They taste differently."

"Don't you think the recipes would be the same?" Zechs asked, pulling the blanket a little tighter.

Treize shifted into a spot that seemed more comfortable. "The feeling about them changes. They simply are no true Christmas cookies any longer. It's wrong to bake them in summer. You don't sing Silent Night in summer either."

Zechs simply nodded, and Treize assumed that he had either understood what he meant, or had decided that the topic was not worth arguing about. A comfortable silence settled over them, only interrupted by the voices of the actors. Neither of the two young men moved much, content for the moment to be just where they were, feeling the other close and knowing that they had every reason to savor this evening.

Running a hand through soft tawny hair, Zechs leaned forward a little to rest his cheek against Treize's, tightening his embrace a little. Evenings like this one were rare, so they had to be enjoyed as much as possible. Which usually meant that they would spend the time being close and relaxing together.

"Cookie," Zechs said again, smiling as another vanilla crescent found its way into his mouth.

"Kiss," Treize returned, receiving what he wanted in an instant. The lingering taste of vanilla was flavoring Zechs' lips, was being shared with him as they deepened the kiss. Hands began to roam, to tenderly stroke sensitive skin. Bodies shifting closer to each other, fitting together in perfect familiarity.


Eventually Treize drifted off into sleep, cuddling closer to Zechs and starting to hog the blanket. When Zechs' attempts at getting it back again only resulted in a few uncomprehensible murmurs from the older man, he decided to leave it be for the moment. The room was heated by both the fire and the radiators anyway, and Treize's body radiated warmth as well.

On the screen, Audrey Hepburn was crying. Puzzled about this development, Zechs raised his head a little to get a better look, careful not to wake his lover. Treize could use all the rest he could possibly get before having to go through his usual daily routines again. Often Zechs was truly grateful that he never ended up with administration tasks, especially when seeing Treize after a bad paperwork day.

"We're alike, me and cat. A couple of poor nameless slobs." The movie seemed to be coming to an end, but this did not look happy at all. Zechs frowned as the cat was being abandoned in the pouring rain, as the girl told the taxi driver to go on. This was not right.

Treize's earlier comment came back to him, about him being like the cat, and it made him frown even more. The other man had known the storyline... and Treize rarely said anything without exactly weighing the words before. I do hope you are not planning to leave me in the next downpour, he thought, his good mood darkening.

Loosening his hold on Treize a little and barely aware of it, Zechs strained hard to try and remember whether the movie had a happy end or not. It suddenly became important to him to know what happened to the unnamed cat, almost as if this could predict what would happen to him. And now the cat was lost, abandoned by the person who had taken the animal in before, who had cared for it.

He did not want to think that Treize could really have meant something like this when he had made that innocently seeming statement.

Audrey Hepburn had left the car by now, was searching something in what looked like a backyard full of jumbled crates. Behind her, George Peppard was looking as if he thought her despair to be something that was both heartwarming and useless at the same time.

Then Zechs saw something that made him freeze.

She had found the cat. Unharmed and well, hidden from the rain in a wooden crate.

Safe. The cat was where it was supposed to be.

Zechs did not pay any attention to what happened afterwards. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that the movie was over, that the black screen with the credits was on. Absent-mindedly he reached for the remote, switched off the television.

The cat was safe.

Happily he returned to cuddling with Treize, not caring right now that the other man was still asleep, that his embraces would wake him. He knew his lover would forgive him for it.

"What is it, Zechs?" Treize asked tiredly, fingers brushing across his cheek. "You look... " it seemed that he was searching for the best way to phrase it. "Shaken."

"It's nothing, Treize," Zechs replied, kissing him softly on the lips. "And call me Milliard."


The End


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