My Boss, My Boyfriend. Part I.

For Second Harrier, whose story "Friends Indeed" is one of my favorites—if quality of writing alone sold books he should be rich. Two years ago he requested several prompts and I chose to write about Lelouch and Villetta and what a relationship between them would look like. Loosely based around the AU fic, Lelouch of Britannia.

This will be a short project in two parts.

Villetta examined herself one last time in front of the bathroom mirror: Buttons polished, uniform creased, lint and loose threads clipped. Her straight silver hair was tied neatly behind her neck, not one strand out of place.

"Alright, here we go."

She stepped out and started down the hallway. Like the regiment itself, the headquarters was much a work in progress—funds for refurbishing the forty-year old building were delayed, so the commander paid out of pocket to get the contractors started—as workers stripped wall, installed cable, painted and carpeted. It was chaotic, but the energy in the air was palpable; the beginning of something new.

Villetta was surprised when Jeremiah called them nearly a year ago. They met and he described the prince glowingly. Gathering them in, He revealed the army's plan to raise new regiments, and how His Highness had arranged to obtain command of one.

She was skeptical, Kewell was derisive. "A pipedream; the army has too many colonels and not enough regiments. Even Cornelia started at captain leading a KMF squad."

"Ha! What do you know about politics?" Jeremiah flicked a peanut at Kewell's nose, provoking a tit-for-tat until Villetta slapped their hands like unruly children. "Just wait and see. This boy is special. His time is coming."

Three months after Army beat Navy in football, halting a nine-year losing streak, High Command—amidst its periodic list of retirements, promotions, and relocations—announced the formation of the 382nd Independent Regiment, to be based in Ashfordshire with His Highness Lelouch Vi Britannia commanding. Jeremiah called again, "We have posts to fill. I put in a word for you both. Get over here now."

She came. Half out of respect for Jeremiah, who was never as dumb as Kewell made him out to be, half out of curiosity. Now that she stood outside his door, she realized she had no idea what to expect.

"Enter."

As he studied her records she studied him. He was near her height, perhaps an inch or two taller, and slight, so slight she wondered if he weighed less than she did.

"Your family is in wine making." His fine, almost feminine lashes framed half-lidded eyes as he read. "Sonoma, lovely this time of year. What's the name of your label?"

"There's been some mistake, sir." Villetta straightened her back; after so many years, her skin had grown thick talking about her roots to the upper class. "My father was a grape picker."

"I know. Jeremiah told me."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wanted to hear you say it." He turned a page. "You applied many times for transfer to conflict zones. You don't seem like a war junky so I interpret that as career boosting. Am I wrong?"

She felt her face grow hot, and she replied with heat that, in retrospect, surprised even herself. "Those of us not highborn must try harder, Sir."

"Good! I like ambition. I'm ambitious myself." Ignoring her astonishment, he closed her file. "You're hired. You'll lead second battalion, your new rank is O-4. Jim outside will handle the paperwork."

Her mouth hung open. She came to interview for a transfer and was promoted five years ahead of time. "I don't know what to say, Sir. The Promotion Board will never allow it."

"What's the point of being highborn if you can't get away with things?" Lelouch shrugged and offered his hand, smiling for the first time since she walked through his door. "Welcome aboard, major."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"That's all for today: Kewell will see the quartermaster, Jeremiah the motor pool." The regiment had arrived in Morocco and was settling in. "Oh, and one more thing."

The three senior officers of the 382nd looked up from packing their briefcases. Their prince tilted his chin up towards the floor above. "This mobile base's living quarters have two bedrooms. Which of you will be staying in the other?"

They three exchanged looks: The base facilities of Area Eight were comfortable—too comfortable, perhaps, for the two divisions already there rarely strayed from it—but once on the move, the regiment would rely on hybrid tents and portable latrines, if available. The commander's quarters had luxuries like a private shower, kitchenette, and a real toilet. Out in the desert these amenities would not be small things.

"Well, there's no question." Kewell cleared his throat, "Major Nu should have the room."

"Thank you, but I shouldn't enjoy preferential treatment."

Jeremiah scratched his chin. "Rock paper scissors?"

"Kewell is right." Lelouch weighed in, "The regiment is overwhelmingly male, and it would be easier for all if Major Nu stayed here, to avoid having to schedule workarounds in the common facilities."

Kewell was a gentleman; her commander was pragmatic. The prince almost always had a practical reason ready to explain his actions.

XxXxX

"So you're living with your boss."

"No, I am not." Villetta dried her voluminous hair while sitting on her bed, the phone—an unexpected benefit she was grateful to have for calling home—pressed to her ear. "How come anything that comes out of your lips turns scandalous?"

"It's the power of my reality distortion field, which enables me to see the world as I wish it, then bend others to my will." The sound of Nonette munching on nachos was transmitted along crisply, and Villetta wondered again why her friend was chosen to be a Knight of the Round.

"In any case, it's nothing like you think. We keep to ourselves, it's all very professional."

"I'm sure. That boy is sculpted from ice." Nonette chuckled, "He could use a good thawing from the embrace of an older woman."

"Cornelia would kill me."

"Who said anything about you? I was volunteering." The Knight laughed aloud, "Just joking. But seriously, he's a teenage boy. All boys are interested in women, even if they pretend not to… especially when they pretend not to. So lock your undies."

"You're ridiculous."

"Am I? You share a bathroom, right?"

Villetta sighed as she turned off the drier. "Yes, there's only one. He's very neat."

"So you take turns, and when he goes after you he showers in a confined space filled with the fragrance of your shampoo and body wash… hah, hah."

"Nonette, you're panting. Stop it."

XxXxXxX

A banquet was given to celebrate the Empire's string of victories. Their relentless campaign eroded the NAL's capacity to wage war, prompting local governments to begin peace talks. Officers from the XIV and XV Divisions crowded the ballroom. Many toasted her on the 382nd's accomplishments, lamenting how they were ever late to the party and relegated to picking up stragglers. She also overheard jealous murmurs, but it was a credit to the officer corps that these were far and few between.

And then the evening took a dive for the worse.

"Ah, if it isn't Villetta Nu, my brother's doll."

Villetta was glad that Jeremiah and Kewell were not around, for they would have undoubtedly retaliated, royalty and rank be damned. "Good evening, your highness."

Prince Geoffrey, commander of the XIV division, ignored her words even as he eyed her appreciatively. "And what a pretty doll she is, even better in the flesh."

"Isn't she?"

"Exquisite. I would be shocked if little brother didn't take her to bed with him every night."

Alfred nodded emphatically, spilling a bit of his daiquiri. "That explains it. How else does a peasant girl rise so quickly in this meritocratic institution of ours?"

"By merit, unlike some here."

They found Lelouch dressed in white dress uniform and gold braid. Villetta thought he posed a dashing figure. "In the past week Lieutenant Colonel Nu's unit captured 6,000 prisoners and 35 knightmare frames; she personally destroyed four in combat. Her achievements are well documented and indisputable."

Lelouch sipped his drink, club soda with mint syrup. "Equally well documented are the absenteeism and debacles of the XIV and XV Divisions, the last of which was the shelling of a village which surrendered to us without struggle, a tragedy and great embarrassment to our cause."

Geoffrey seethed. "We could have handled that, had it not been for your bloody mouthpiece, that blackguard Diethard Reed."

"Even supposing he is my mouthpiece, he would have had no scoop had you not gone looking for someone—anyone—to kill, just to show you're doing something."

"Watch yourself, Lelouch." Jeffrey approached, but even a head taller, he failed to make his younger half-brother flinch, "Nails that stick out get smashed."

"Better aim well."

Villetta exhaled after the pair stormed away. "Was it necessary to provoke them?"

"Necessary? No, that was for fun. They did get one thing right though."

"Which was?"

"You do look very nice this evening."

"Why thank you." She had caught a glimpse of the mischievous teen, grinning from beneath the coolness and authority; carried away, unable to stay his tongue where a wiser man might have diffused the situation without leaving such enmity. She hoped it would not return to haunt him.

XxXxXxXxX

He was lucky to be alive.

Villetta bit her lip when she undid the bandages around his neck, revealing the angry purple bruises from the assassin's grip, who remained unidentified. Had she hesitated a few seconds more before pulling the trigger… "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for." The white bandages were his idea; generously wrapped and visible with collar unbuttoned. He wanted everyone to see that their general had met the enemy eye to eye and killed him, with scars to show for it. Every danger was an opportunity to him and he exploited each ruthlessly, but to what end?

She squeezed his shoulders gently. "I'll double the sentry."

"Thank you."

XxXxXxXxX

When the remnants of their blocking force reached Phase Line F, Villetta was too exhausted to even lift her head. But when she heard—felt, even sitting in her cockpit—the impact of friendly heavy artillery, her spirit was gauged the direction and distance of the rounds and she felt her heart sink.

"Kewell."

She went back and found the enemy attack broken off. Kewell's disabled Sutherland was surrounded by a smoldering ring of devastation, yet miraculously remained intact. Prying open the cockpit, she was met with the smell of cigars and the still form of her friend, with two packs of combat gauze pressed against his side. Medics were called up, and as they had exhausted their supply of plasma, whole blood transfusion was performed immediately: Her blood type was A, he was AB. When Jeremiah arrived he found them lying side by side.

Finally a Medevac transport arrived. Kewell was flown away, still in critical condition. Jeremiah went with him, and she remained, emotionally and physically drained.

"Villetta."

It was the prince, dressed in dirty tanker's fatigues, a carbine slung over his shoulder.

"Your highness…" She tried to stand but was overtaken by dizziness. He caught her and she leaned into him, letting him support her as her eyes drifted close. "Is it true? Did we win?"

His voice was unusually husky from all the shouting. "Yes, thanks to you."

"Kewell, he…"

"I heard. He's tough, he'll pull through. He must." She felt him embrace her closer as sleep pulled on her every cell. This time she gave in.

XxXxXxXxX

"Soon people will expect you to wear a dress for these occasions, now that you're a baroness."

Lelouch found her on a balcony outside the imperial palace's grand ball room, where over a thousand guests gathered to celebrate their accomplishments. Villetta still wore her dress uniform, now adorned with two additional medals.

"Ball gowns make me feel naked; you're hardly wearing anything at all." She turned and smiled as she leaned against the railing. "At least the material would be cooler."

"Cornelia never liked dresses much either; said she can't run in them."

"Is that what you're doing? Running away?"

He chuckled. "You have me. A crush of ladies surrounded me, all speaking in tongues: upcoming theater, plans for my new estates, how well brought up their daughters and nieces and granddaughters were. I barely escaped."

"Of course no one recommends their sister." She joined his laughter. It felt good to laugh, to breathe air free of smoke and debris. The evening breeze carried up fragrance from the sprawling rose garden, and for some time the prince and the lady said nothing and enjoyed the recess in silence. It was a trait they shared; aversion to crowds and relief in familiar company. "So what happens next?"

He unbuttoned his top button and sighed. "We need to organize the new division. Integrate equipment, promote people, hire laterally. Lots of adding and shuffling."

She finished her drink, hailed a waiter and picked up a glass of champagne. She knew his main concern. "Kewell?"

"He promised to stay until we settled on a suitable successor." Lelouch frowned; although he endorsed Kewell's application to join General Staff, where he would be advocate, eyes, and ears for him, it was still a great loss. "I'm still surprised by his decision."

"A near-death experience can make people think. High Command was always his dream, and by staying in Pendragon he can be with his sister."

She hoped Lelouch would think too, after so many close calls, for himself and everyone who cared about him.

Lelouch leaned against the railing next to her as he looked across the garden and over to the forest beyond. She watched his profile; in moments of deep thought such as this it was easy for her to forget that he was just seventeen, and the man she had come to deeply admire. She wished him all the happiness that the future offered… if only he would accept.

The orchestra started up again. The prince spun to face her, their proximity catching her off guard. "Shall we dance?"

"It would be my honor." Never mind that they would stick out like a pair of sore thumbs, both in military dress. "Who will lead?"

"Whatever the lady wishes."

XxXxXxXxX

Slowly, things began to change.

Perhaps it was from the amount of time they spent together, from early in the morning often until late at night. He worked harder than anyone else, leaving the rest of the division to try and keep up. A few times she found him asleep at his office desk. She carried him to the sofa and covered him with a blanket before turning out the lights. On other occasions, when she accompanied him on some necessary function with military and civil leaders, he would fall asleep on the ride back to Aries Palace.

She enjoyed watching him sleep; it took the edge off his normally serious features.

One morning, she showed up and found the office abuzz. "What's going on?"

One of the girls giggled. "The general brought flowers for everyone. He said, I quote, 'This place could use some color.'"

Indeed, on every desk was a small bouquet, each one different. Some were sunny white and yellow, some pink and gay. It was a nice gesture, and it was very much the prince's way to pay compliments even to the secretaries.

When she unlocked her office door, she found on her desk a vase filled with fresh violets. No one else received violets. She wondered if he was merely distinguishing her, a senior officer, from the civilian employees, or whether there was more meaning behind the flowers of her namesake.

XxXxXxXxX

"Why are we even looking at this individual?"

Lelouch had loosened his tie. Jeremiah propped his feet on the table, on top of which were a humongous pile of applicant's files. "He's a relation of someone important, remember? You asked for those."

"Oh right." The prince looked like he caught a whiff of bad cheese. "Well, maybe there's a niece or nephew of someone even more important hiding somewhere in these stacks."

Jeremiah crumbled his paper cup into a ball and aimed it at the dustbin by the door; basketball was in season. "If we must take on some deadweight in return for political support, damned if we don't get a good price."

"Precisely." They chuckled. The first time they failed to do this they ended up with hand-me-down Glasgows and mothballed tanks, though the latter ended up saving their skins.

Jeremiah launched his shot, which arced through the air towards its mark… and hit Villetta square in the face, who happened to enter at that moment. As the ball bounced and rolled away, she turned slowly to Lelouch. "General, it has come to my attention that you have not taken the annual fitness exam."

He stared at the "PT" stretched across the front of her tight gray shirt and swallowed. She wore a field cap, wraparound sunglasses, a whistle, and stopwatch. Villetta was a medaling decathlete in college and despised flab and feebleness; no one was more offended when TV happened to show images of comically obese soldiers. "I've been uh, busy."

"Those who fail to score at least 160 are discharged, no exceptions." She looked at her clipboard and grinned, sending a chill down both men's spines. "Last time you barely passed with Jeremiah helping you prepare. This time I'll do the honors. We'll aim for a modest improvement to, say, 220."

Lelouch turned deathly white—He nearly died trying to reach 160. Jeremiah attempted to rescue his master. "Um, look Villetta, I know fitness is important, but…"

"You've gained some weight since we came back, Jeremiah. Maybe you'd like to join us?"

"No thank you."

As he was dragged away by the arm, Lelouch glared back at Jeremiah, who hid behind a binder and pretended to be busy. He wanted no part of Villetta's tough love regimen.

XxXxXxXxX

"You've changed."

"Hmm?" Villetta was assembling a piece of pear and prosciutto on her plate. She would soon travel to Area Eleven with Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally at Governor Clovis' invitation. Nonette and a few girlfriends, including Monica and Dorothea from the Knights of the Round, decided to give her a sendoff.

Monica continued. "When we first met, I thought you were cool and professional. You still are, but you seem… softer, now. More relaxed."

"She got herself a man." Nonette said as she slurped down an oyster.

Dorothea rolled her eyes before giving Villetta a knowing smile, which she returned. "The baroness is probably just happy for the break in the war."

Nonette sighed. "No war, no men, if I were you I'd be bored to tears."

"The prince keeps me busy."

"I'll bet he does." The Knight of Nine swirled the Chablis in its glass before taking a sip. "Seriously, the two of you spend more time together than a married couple; the only difference is you don't sleep together."

Monica, the youngest of the group, blushed furiously; even Dorothea was embarrassed. "Nonette!"

Instead of brushing off her friend's baseless fancies, within the deep recesses of her innermost thoughts, Villetta imagined what being with the Prince would be like: Would they date? Had he ever dated before? Would nine… eight years be too much a gap even for him? "I could do worse."

The dumbstruck looks on her companions' faces made her realize she had mused her last thought aloud. Wine dribbled out of one corner of Nonette's lips. "No! That's not what I…"

"Sorry I'm late." Cornelia, dressed casually for change, arrived slightly short of breath. "Road construction. Pendragon is always being patched up. So, what are we talking about?"

All four ladies shook their heads. It was a subject too taboo to even jest about before the Princess-the subject of Lelouch dating, nearly as taboo as the subject of Princess Euphemia dating. Nonette was first to recover, wiping her chin furiously. "Nothing! Here, have some of this virgi… fresh olive focaccia. It's divine."

To be Continued.