Disclaimer: Clover belongs to CLAMP and their associates. Nothing else belongs to me except the idea, which was too cute to leave well enough alone. This fanfic is written for non-profit entertainment purposes only.

Summary: Gingetsu gets a day off from work, and Lan fixes him breakfast in bed.

Breakfast in Bed

By Jonna

       

Faint traces of dawn were already creeping in through the bedroom window when Lan slowly opened his eyes. His first thought upon waking, accompanied by a sensation of vague alarm, was that the window was farther away from the bed than it should have been. His confusion didn't last for very long. This wasn't the first time he had been startled by these surroundings--by the fact that the room around him was larger than usual, and the furniture different. He always seemed to remember where he was at about the same time that he became aware of a human heartbeat that wasn't his own, sounding with a gentle rhythm against his ear. Lan sighed a little, and curled his fingers contentedly against the downy texture of fine, pale hair that lay just over the surface of that heartbeat--luxuriating in the warmth and the softness and the scent which, although no longer new, still had lost none of its wonder for him.

He shifted slightly, tilting his head to look up. Gingetsu was still sleeping--a rarity, considering that he was an early riser by nature. But this past week at work had been a difficult one for him. Gingetsu hadn't gotten home before midnight on either of the two nights that he'd managed to make it home at all, and both times he'd left again before sunrise. The work had taken its toll. Not even an experienced military officer could run on army-issue stimulants forever.

Lan got an elbow under him and levered himself up, careful not to dislodge the arm still draped over his shoulder. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd actually caught Gingetsu sleeping since the day the Lieutenant Colonel had first brought him home to this place. Now he studied the sleeping man raptly in the faint light of early morning, as if he could memorize every line and curve of that still face. The harsh planes were softened somewhat in sleep, the barriers let down to leave the calm features completely unguarded. The visor was gone, set aside on the nearby nightstand, and its absence did wonders to make the Lt. Colonel look more like a normal human being. Lan smiled slightly, repressing the urge to smooth the light fringe of bangs back from Gingetsu's forehead, knowing how soft and silky that fall of hair would be to the touch.

he thought contentedly, with the straightforward joy of a child who had found a key to a box that everyone else had given up trying to open, and found that it contained something wonderful inside. Never mind that one could never really *own* another person. Lan had never had any possessions of his own anyway, except what had been given to him freely by this man.

A bit reluctantly, Lan untangled himself from the grasp of those arms and slipped out from under the covers. The air in the room was cool against his skin; it was amazing just how much warmth could be generated by the presence of another human body. Lan found his pajamas in a forlorn heap on the floor, lying where they had been abandoned rather unceremoniously the night before. He pulled on the flannel pajama bottoms, snagged the top and his nearby slippers, and then tiptoed barefoot across the room, opening the door and letting himself out into the hallway.

He padded quietly down the hall to the kitchen, following the soft signal given off by the wires in the wall so that he wouldn't have to turn on the lights. The air in the kitchen was warmer from the heat given off by running appliances . Lan decided to stay barefoot, and draped the pajama shirt over one of the kitchen chairs, turning the lights on at their lowest setting. Then he stood still for a moment, contemplating the closed cabinet doors.

Today was a special day, the rarest of all days. Gingetsu finally had a day off. Not a break for a few hours in the afternoon to run errands, or a full evening at home (although those were nice, too), but a complete and total twenty-four hour leave from his job. He wasn't even supposed to be on call, although Lan knew that if anything major happened, Gingetsu would probably have to leave. But hopefully international security could manage without the Lieutenant Colonel for a little bit. Then Lan could have him all to himself for an entire day. Lan usually made breakfast, when Gingetsu had time to eat at home in the morning. But today called for something different, maybe something exotic, to celebrate. Lan pulled a recipe book off one of the shelves and sat down at the table to skim through it.

Crepes, he decided, without too much deliberation. He'd never made crepes before, but he'd always wanted to try them. He could make the batter and filling now, then actually cook them once Gingetsu showed signs of waking up. On second thought, though, crepes were a pretty light meal for someone of Gingetsu's size. Maybe he'd better make muffins or something, too. He remembered seeing something that could serve as a muffin tin, but it was on the top shelf of one of the cabinets, since it didn't get used very often. He got up and opened the cabinet, thinking that he'd need to drag one of the kitchen chairs over to reach it. But no, if he reached up, he could just barely grasp it with the tips of his fingers. It always seemed strange when he realized just how tall he had grown.

So he set to work, humming slightly as he measured ingredients and added and mixed and poured. He really did like to cook, and thought that he'd gotten pretty good at it since he'd arrived here--although the first few well-intentioned dishes that had resulted from his initial excursions into the kitchen had been rather painful. But he had worked hard to improve his cooking skills, to make himself useful to the one person who meant everything to him.

Before long the kitchen was full of morning sunlight, streaming in through the large windows and spilling across the tile. The air was starting to carry a wonderful mix of smells from the cooking food, and Lan's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten much yet. The timer that he'd set for the muffins went off, and Lan took them out of the oven. He'd need juice, too, and cream and sugar for the coffee, and maybe a small dish of sliced fruit as a side. He had just flipped the muffins out onto a rack to cool, when he felt a familiar presence looming behind him in the kitchen doorway.

Lan couldn't help but smile. "Go back to sleep," he called over his shoulder as he set the pan in the sink. "It's not ready yet."

He could almost hear the puzzled frown in Gingetsu's voice. "What are you doing?"

"Making you breakfast in bed," Lan replied cheerfully. "But it won't work if you stay out here in the kitchen."

Gingetsu continued to hover indecisively in the doorway. Lan checked on the sauce simmering on the stove, then turned to look at him. Gingetsu's shades were back in place now, and he was wearing a white terry bathrobe. Lan noticed the latter with a slight twinge of disappointment. "The coffee's ready, though," Lan relented. "I can pour a cup if you'd like."

That seemed to decide him. The Lt. Colonel entered the kitchen and walked over to the stove. There he paused, momentarily distracted by the pastries lying upside-down on the cooling rack. "Muffins?"

"They're blueberry. Go ahead and try one."

Gingetsu picked up one of the still-warm baked goods and eyed it dubiously. His expression made Lan smile, and he plucked it from the Lt. Colonel's fingers. "I'll fix it for you. Do you want to sit down?"

"I'd rather stay here." Lan paused and looked up at him, realizing that somehow they had managed to wind up with only a few centimeters of space between them--which seemed strange, because the room around them really was quite large.

"Oh," he replied rather faintly, suddenly unable to take his eyes off Gingetsu's face. "That would be fine, too."

There were steady fingers under his chin, then, carefully tilting his head up. A soft stir of air brushed his cheek, then warm breath against his lips. His eyes drifted closed at the first touch of that gentle, teasing pressure against his mouth. He yielded to it without the slightest hesitation, leaning in until he could feel the press of Gingetsu's terrycloth robe against his skin. There was no urgency to that kiss. Not yet. It held only contentment and comfort and closeness--and promise. Before them stretched an entire day of unfilled hours, each one laden with its own possibilities.

It was difficult to remember to come up for air. Lan didn't have the lung capacity to continue indefinitely, as much as he would have liked to. His hand, now empty of the stray muffin that had long since fallen to the floor, came up around Gingetsu's waist, as he nestled into the front to the robe.

"Strawberry," Gingetsu murmured.

Lan flushed slightly. "It's the crepe filling," he said, voice muffled against the terrycloth.

He felt Gingetsu's cheek rest against his hair as the man's arms engulfed him. "It's good."

Warmth that had nothing to do with body heat suddenly flooded Lan's chest. "I'm glad." He closed his eyes again, savoring that unlooked-for moment of shared peace; feeling the sturdy weight of familiar arms around him, the stir of movement at each indrawn breath. Only--his stomach rumbled quietly. He really was getting a little bit hungry. He gave it another good long minute. Then he reluctantly stirred. Gingetsu's arms slid away as he stepped back. "Breakfast," he explained. He patted Gingetsu's arm. "Sit. I'll get coffee."

Gingetsu remained in the kitchen, drinking his coffee and checking on the morning news as Lan finished making the crepes. Lan found himself casting covert glances back over his shoulder whenever he could. The Lieutenant Colonel didn't say very much. He never did. But it was enough to know that he was there, a constant presence in the background. Lan was just setting the last of the breakfast dishes down onto a tray to carry them into the bedroom, when a shadow fell over them. "I'll get it," Gingetsu said, his hands sliding in around the polished silver edges of the tray.

"But," Lan started to protest, as the heavy tray was lifted over his head and out of his grasp. Gingetsu paused, looking at him expectantly, and Lan stopped, flustered. Somehow it seemed wrong for Gingetsu to have to carry his own breakfast. But the Lt. Colonel didn't appear to mind. "Okay." Lan cast one last glance around the kitchen to be sure that he had remembered everything, then followed Gingetsu back out into the hall.

At the doorway of Gingetsu's room, Lan paused, watching as the man carefully set the tray down on the foot of the bed. Keeping his robe on for the moment, the Lt. Colonel removed his slippers and sat on the edge of the mattress. Lan felt a small smile pull at the corners of his lips. So, Gingetsu *did* get the idea of having breakfast in bed after all.

he thought once again, as he gazed at the man before him with a surge of pure, possessive joy. Everything was so right, so perfect. If this wasn't happiness, then true happiness didn't really exist.

Gingetsu settled. The visor lifted to him quizzically. "Lan?"

"Yeah," Lan responded, "I'm right here." Without another word, he stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.

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