Code Geass: No Love For Tamaki

[Dean_the_Young]

I actually wrote this and posted it on FFN, where I post all of my stuff, including the stuff not found here. I found and was looking at the list of people who had favorited it, and was surprised to see that ShadowCell of all people had favorited it. Which surprised me, since he hadn't reviewed it at all, but it reminded me that I hadn't posted it here.

So, here it is. No alterations. I'll post the four chapters over a week, so as not to clutter, but enjoy.


This first one was undoubtedly my best and favorite. Probably one of my best writing exercises, period.

---


Code Geass: No Love For Tamaki

"Tamaki is a guy who gets no love. C.C. has no love left to give. Theirs is a hate-mock relationship."

---

When Zero found Tamaki in C.C.’s clutches, he wondered if it was worth it.

Actually, let’s try that again.

When C.C. went out of her way to save Tamaki on the battlefield by catching his latest escape pod from plummeting into the Ocean in the middle of a Britannian task force, Zero wondered if the series of events was worth his sanity. Tamaki was patently worthless by his measure. Not once had the Japanese man done anything of importance, not once had he proven his worth, and it had taken quite some time for Zero to finally confirm that Tamaki’s loud mouth did not, in fact, hide the existence of a brain, and that only dumb luck (the only type Tamaki seemed capable of) allowed him to survive for so long.

As much fun as it was to watch C.C. mercilessly torment the intellectually inferior man, bringing up his past tales of bravado even as she carried him back to the Black Knight’s base and getting a storm of storm of curses and insults in return, it would have been even more amusing had anything Tamaki said actually affected C.C. in any way. But, Zero mused, that was to be expected from one with centuries of hatred.

As luck would have it, Zero began paying attention just as Tamaki spoke directly to him. Not that Zero intended to, but it was inadvisable to prepare for landing on a submarine with less than complete attention. Tamaki had proven that on more than one occasion. (Zero conveniently forgot such minor details as battle damage leaving a lack of legs, a sheet of ice on deck, or attempting to make room for Zero himself.)

“You wouldn’t let her do that, would you Zero? You won’t let her make me into her slave, would you?”

“Of course not,” Zero replied automatically. “We of the Black Knights fight for equality and against the abuse of power, and slavery is one such abuse.” Tamaki crowed.

“However,” Zero continued, not at all because of the look he was getting from the fellow occupant, “it would still be best to show your appreciation for the favor she did for you, would it not?”

“But…!”

“Nonsense,” Zero continued. “C.C. saved you from what would likely have been a seemingly eternity of misery in Britanian hands, ended only with your surely painful execution. What are trivial tasks in return? It would show the rest of the Black Knights that our top members do not hold themselves above thanking and returning the favor to those who help them.”

C.C. grinned, but this was not a smile of happiness and contentment. This one displayed teeth, and inside the mask Zero shivered in inescapable sympathy for Tamaki. As C.C. began listing the numerous, and often degrading, chores that needed doing around her chambers, and Tamaki was mercifully silent in his misery, Zero silently searched for any excuse to return to Ashford for another week.

In the end, though, sympathy won out, and he limited it to a day.

--

Despite their eccentricities, all of the older Black Knights were friends, after a fashion. Certainly not in the “I might date them if they are of the opposite gender” sort of friends, but friends. Maybe even family, in a dysfunctional sort of way.

So when word got around that Tamaki had been convinced (forced, in the minds of everyone else) to serve C.C. for some short time, a number of them came by when word spread that he was busy cleaning her room.

Mind you, some of them came to laugh, and none intending to help, but it’s the thought that counts.

Ohgi, for lack of anything better to do at the moment, came by multiple times to check on how the progress was coming. Over the hours, it went something like this.

“How much of the stuff does she eat, anyways? For god’s sake, why isn’t she fat yet?” Tamaki said as he hauled yet another pizza box out from under the bed. C.C., who had returned to watch her temporary slave at work, began to thank him for the calling her thin in her own sarcastic way as Ohgi quickly remembered a very pressing matter to take up with Deithard.

“Woman! I just cleaned up that spot!” he yelled, as C.C. pushed junk into a corner on her way to lay down on her bed.

“Just between you and me, man,” Tamaki whispered to Ohgi, “in all the time I’ve been picking stuff up, I haven’t seen a single undergarment. Hundreds of socks, a dozen of her creepy-ass bondage suits, but not a single bra or panty. I’m not sure to be thankful, or worried as to what she’s wearing now.” Ohgi’s sense of smell of the room went on paranoia alert as C.C. walked by.

When C.C. talked to someone only she could see, Ohgi and Tamaki quickly made a temporary escape. Ohgi didn’t even complain when Tamaki passed him a trash bag to carry out for him.

“How many Britannian prison suits does this woman have?” Tamaki asked as he washed them. “And why isn’t there anything else? My point from earlier still stands. I hope to god she wears something else under these, or my hands will never feel clean again.” Ohgi agreed, thinking to his own stumbling block to taking care of Chigusa.

“No, you crazy Brit! If you want to find her diary, clean the room yourself!” Tamaki exclaimed after Deithard began to try and pry any details of C.C. out from the slave.

--

Later that evening, when Kallen, searching for something to eat, found Tamaki in the kitchen in an orange apron that said “Kiss the Cook”, she felt she had to ask. That was her first mistake, though to be fair he had almost died that day, and he was pseudo-family, in a third-cousin-I-only-see-at-the-ten-year-reunion sort of way.

“Cooking the Witch dinner,” he answered.

“Which witch?” Kallen asked. Tamaki was fond of referring to most any woman he despised as “that damn witch,” though strangely he rarely said so their faces.

“Green hair. Always near Zero. Tried to bite my head off. THE Witch. Said she wanted a home-cooked meal and a nice evening in exchange for my freedom.”

Ah, that would explain it. C.C. was an exception to that rule after past incidents, which Kallen still had trouble believing. “I didn’t know you could cook,” Kallen ventured for something else to say.

“I don’t. Not well, anyway. I used to cook on my own, but it was nothing special. Want some?” he offered, indicating the surplus food he had cooked up.

As Kallen reached out to sample what appeared to be desert, Tamaki grabbed her hand. “Not that batch, trust me. That’s for the witch.”

--

Rakshata stared at the moron in front of her. Only practice kept her pipe from dropping to the floor.

“You want candles.”

“What, did I stutter? If you don’t got any, tell me and I’ll look somewhere else.”

“You came to the engineering sector, home of some of the most advanced high-technology in the world, for something as basic and primitive as candles. I work with machines that shoot lights of death, monitors that can give you seizures, and electronics beyond your comprehension, and you ask me for candles? What makes you think I would have any?”

“You’re Indian, aren’t you? Aren’t you people supposed to use them a lot for various cultural things? Look, I wouldn’t be asking this, but green-witch said I had to give her a candlelight dinner if I was to be let off the hook. Blame her.”

It was a stupid answer, but at least it made some sort of primitive sense. “Wait right here, and never ask this of me again.”

--

Ohgi and Kallen looked on with awe at C.C.’s room. Zero’s mysterious accomplice had left the room and given Tamaki thirty minutes to set up, and curious members of the Black Knights had popped in to see how Tamaki would manage.

So far, it had been surprisingly impressive for one with Tamaki’s talents. The room was clean, the lights were dimed and tasteful candles lit, a covered table stood in one corner, and even the meal looked attractive. Having sampled some of his ‘safe’ culinary creations, Kallen would even admit, under threat of torture and worse, that the food was actually edible and somewhat enjoyable.

Tamaki had even cleaned himself up, at the order of the green witch. He had thoroughly scrubbed in a shower to the point that his skin was red, he was dressed in a smart tux (though, by C.C.’s orders, he still wore his apron), and he had even shaved. He had a plethora of nicks and cuts to prove it.

All it needed was an instrumental accompaniment. And C.C. had ordered.

“I didn’t know you knew how to play the violin, Tamaki,” Kallen said, a bit awed at his skill in setting the evening.

“I don’t,” he winced, “and the bitch knows it. This is going to hurt me more than her.”

--

Kallen’s second mistake was to try and spy on C.C.’s dinner. A half hour layer, as tortured strings cried out and were accompanied by C.C.’s laughter and Tamaki’s curses and insults even as he played host, Kallen and Ohgi silently agreed with Tamaki’s earlier assessment.

--

At the end of the meal, Tamaki was almost ready to collapse. Standing on his feet playing horrible music hurt, and to make it worse the green haired woman hadn’t even touched the desert, instead focusing on the hand-made pizza he hadn't been able to bring himself to taint. The day had been exhausting, from cleaning to cooking to managing this perverse farce of a nice evening, and Tamaki was ready to collapse on his bed once this was over. Just keeping up in his war of words with the witch would have tired most women out. (To most this would sound sexist, but please remember that Tamaki spent most of his life being outclassed by other women in all regards.)

C.C. daintily tapped her napkin to clean off the last smudge of pizza, and stood up. “Thank you for the wonderful evening. I enjoyed it very much,” she said in a tone that was impossible to decipher sincerity from sarcasm. Ignoring Tamaki’s growls, she continued. “I will give you enough time for your two final tasks.”

“First, clear this up,” she said, indicating the table. Tamaki had resigned himself to that already.

“Second, it’s far too cold in here for me to go to sleep. Warm up my bed for me before I return.” Then she left without a look back.

Tamaki, already tenses, trembled and glared at the candles lining the room. He’d warm her bed alright…

--

“Tamaki,” Ohgi moaned, as fire-control teams rushed towards the source of the smoke.

“It was an accident, I swear! I only meant for the bed, not the room!”

--

A few more hours later, Tamaki trudged back to his room. On the door was a note.

I look forward to saving your life again.

-C.C.

Tamaki growled and tore off the note before entering his own room. Not even bothering to turn on the lights to undress, he simply kicked off his boots and threw the tux parts in the general direction of his desk before collapsing on his bed.

Or tried to, anyway. The bed was already occupied, and the dim lights from the hallway showed the green hair of its occupant. With a loud oomph, Tamaki fell onto the floor and began to crawl backwards, stumbling over words to say. C.C. sat up, wiping at her eyes.

“You! What… how… why…!” the Japanese man bit out.

“My bed is not only still cold, but now wet,” C.C. said. “I needed a new room until mine is fixed. You owe me, remember.”

“This is my room, you damn woman! And that’s my bed!”

C.C. blinked. “Nothing’s stopping you from getting in, you know.”

Tamaki blanched and looked ill at the very insinuation, and then yelled and ran out of the room. C.C. smirked at his back.

“See?” C.C. said to the voice only she could hear, “Single occupancy isn’t so hard to get.” She cocked her head. "Would it have mattered if he chose otherwise?" She shrugged. "Not really."

[Dean_the_Young]

---

"Bite Me"

---

As was customary, Zero’s mask betrayed nothing. His silence was deafening, however.

“Zero!” cried Tamaki, scrambling out from his compromising position. “Thank God you showed up! You’re a miracle! She-” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at C.C., “was about to eat me alive! Probably going to suck my blood while she was at it! She’s not human, I tell you!”

As Tamaki rambled on, Zero and C.C. traded stares. Remarkably Zero backed down first. “Tamaki, Ohgi needs help on the bridge. Go.”

Tamaki scrambled to put as much distance between himself and the green haired girl as he could, loudly thanking Zero as he did. He never noticed that both had stopped paying attention to him.

After he left, C.C. broke the silence that fell again. “He’s not going to leave your side for anything for the next week, you know,” said the witch.

“Fortunately, I have things to do at Ashford. I will manage.” Zero’s strong voice showed no sign of thankful relief.

Zero’s accomplice raised her eyebrow, knowing more. “So your friends and teachers have been after you as of late? Or maybe even a certain girl?”

“I have no time for this now,” Zero said, cutting off that line of thought. “I will be gone for a week, and you know what you need to do. But rest assured, we will talk about this later.”

--

Later, in the cafeteria, Tamaki was telling anyone who would listen about his narrow escape from tragedy. Ohgi, on one hand, was trapped along with him. On the other hand, so were some fresh recruits who knew nothing about the Black Knight’s highest members. It was amusing to see them get aclimated, in a morbid way.

“I don’t get it,” said one of the snot-nosed punks (in Tamaki’s not-so-private opinion that more than a few of the old-timers agreed with). “So you’re having an argument with that green-haired chick we see around with Zero, then next thing you know she’s all over you. What’s not to like?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” demanded Tamaki. “I’m telling the broad off, tell her to bite me, and when I wake up she’s starting to do just that! That’s assault, I tell you! She's got fangs!”

No one responded, which likely had something to do with the white-clad arm that proceeded to wrap around Tamaki. “Oh,” cooed the broad in question, “does big ol' Tamaki not care for my tender affections? I was just giving you what you asked for.” What otherwise could have been an arousing performance was utterly shattered by the tone of C.C.’s voice and the over-fluttering of eyelashes.

At least, mused Ohgi as he watched Tamaki leap into the air with curses on his lip, this had some comedic value. He wondered if he could explain it to Chigusa the next time he saw her.