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ladykfThere were certain behaviors that had to be observed in a professional setting. For one, Lazard had worked hard to gain the trust and respect of his men, and all the harder for the respect of the rest of the Board of Directors, given he was one of the youngest executives, certainly to hold as much power as he did. And Sephiroth had a reputation to maintain, both amongst the ranks and with dealing with those same executives. So while there were suspicions, and certainly their closest friends were aware, neither man was quick to make their relationship public.
That said, if you knew what to look for, there were some tells. Like the fact that every time Lazard had attempted to get coffee, someone had replaced it with some variant of black tea. Someone with high enough clearance to come and go as he pleased into his private office. And someone who was not only aware of the meaning behind the change in the decorative fold of his handkerchief to something much more practical for use, who would all but verbally call him on it.
Leaving a box of tissues on his desk was going a little far, however, and the next time Sephiroth came into his office, Lazard hit the automatic door lock and glared at him. “You will stop that.”
A fine silver brow arched, and there was a slight shift between ‘general’ to ‘lover’ in his tone. “And how late are you working tonight, Director?”
“As late as my due work demands, General.”
“Mmhm.” Funny how much two syllables could say, without even using words. “You know what you’re going to do to yourself.”
“It’s nothing I can’t manage.”
“Every fall, Lazard.” He crossed to the desk in a soft swish of leather, gloved hands resting on the desk. “I could set a clock by you.”
“Exam and promotion season is an extremely busy time, to say nothing of the end of the year,” Lazard said, and no, he was not being defensive; it was fact.
“It would be much easier if you would delegate,” Sephiroth reminded him, an age old argument.
“I’m the Director, not all of it can be delegated.”
“I’m the General; who, exactly, do you expect to tell me no?”
It really shouldn’t have been a turn-on when Sephiroth got defiant and threw his rank around. Especially not when it got in the way of Lazard’s carefully laid plans. But it was, and he knew it, damn him. There was a predatory gleam in those bright green eyes, and he knew the younger man was not above using it to his advantage.
“You’ve been working too late, too often.” He stood, a gloved fingertip tapping a stack of files on the desk for emphasis. “Too hard. You need to relax. Unwind.”
Lazard wet his lips, and saw him follow the gesture. It made his mouth feel all the drier but practice made his tone come out level. “This can’t wait, Sephiroth.”
“I could do it,” he said. “And you can sign.”
“That’s… we can’t.”
“I’ve done many things I ‘can’t’ in this office.” Sephiroth’s tone was very nearly sweet, but the look in his eyes…
“Stop that.”
Sephiroth rounded the desk, coming close enough to touch, and very gently removed his glasses. Somehow, the light touch to the bridge of his nose was not something he believed was at all coincidence, even the butter soft leather spiking the ever present irritation. It didn’t help it was so well cared for that it still carried the scent of the oils used, and Lazard batted his hands away with a helpless catch of breath, “h’hh… nnhHISSH! … nngh, snf.”
That got him another raised brow. “That sounds a bit heavier than this morning.”
Lazard rolled his eyes, getting the handkerchief back out of his pocket to make a careful attempt to head off the insistent tingling from getting any further. “You set it off, that doesn’t snf count.”
“You know, you’re getting a bit pink there.” He hovered a fingertip so very near to touching that Lazard felt his nose twitch. “And while some may not notice, the men will.”
“Very few look at me so closely as you.”
“Perhaps, but they know you,” Sephiroth pointed out, sounding terribly reasonable. “The first sniff they hear, you’ll be watched. And you’re getting to that point, aren’t you?”
“You’re not helping.”
“Taking a night to rest would help.” And damn him for gentling his voice that way, for completely abandoning the pretense of being the general right then and making it personal. Because Lazard could refuse his SOLDIER, he had no problem with that. His lover was another matter. “I’ll help with the files later. You’ll make yourself worse, Lazard, and then you won’t get anything else done.”
Lazard sighed quietly, rubbing his temples. “You know, I used to get a lot more done before you started paying attention.”
“And you’d worked yourself into a fever more than once, which I’ve been informed colds should not do,” Sephiroth replied. “Close your work, it’s already after hours.”
“Our men don’t work nine to five.”
“I’ll be sure their calls are forwarded, then, but you need to go home.” That same gentle insistence. Damn him, damn him, damn him. “Tea and soup, I believe is the usual treatment?”
“And medicine.” Which he hated but took religiously. It was a three week stretch, nothing he hadn’t handled.
“I see it’s been so very effective.”
A quiet sniff got past his defenses and the little twitch Sephiroth’s lips made Lazard roll his eyes. “Fine. Stubborn.”
“I am, but in this instance I think that can be applied to you.” Sephiroth pushed off the desk with a fluid shift of hips, and offered his hand, fingers curling in a gentle beckon. “Come on, Lazard. It’s late, hardly anyone is around. Come home.”
“Aren’t you needed somewhere?” Lazard frowned, because it was so tempting, and he really shouldn’t…
“Angeal can cover for me if I am.” Sephiroth reached over, spinning his chair away from the desk and pushing the files away to give himself a place to perch. “No more of this, not tonight.”
“Does Angeal know about this?” Lazard attempted to lean around and grab his glasses, giving Sephiroth a dark look when his hand was grasped lightly; there was no shaking the SOLDIER’s grip until he felt like it. “I should write you up for insubordination.”
“Angeal would only tell me not to tire you out; he’s all in favor of keeping you from overworking,” Sephiroth said, shifting to let his thumb rub soothing circles on Lazard’s palm, warm despite the barriers of silk and leather. “I can think of more enjoyable things to be written up for.”
From the lazy grin on his face, Lazard knew the jump in his pulse hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I thought you wanted me to rest?”
“A full body massage is a fantastic place to start.” Sephiroth let his hand drop, leaning in just enough to kiss him, a light press of lips and a nuzzle to his cheek. “Come with me, Lazard. I’ll make it well worth your while.”
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, Lazard was well aware this sort of thing set a terrible precedence for the rest of the season but… well. A little rest wouldn’t hurt.
Of course, they didn’t walk out hand in hand, and Sephiroth did restrain his smug pleasure to a gleam in his eyes, but there was no doubt his ‘persuasiveness’ would most definitely continue until he had Lazard right where he wanted him.
