Not Quite Forgotten

Author: pratz

A small gift for Athrun’s birthday first posted on my LJ on October 2008. Take it as a filler while I'm wrapping up the last chapter of BAZ, would you? :)

Inside the perimeter of his work and almost nonexistent private life and back to work again, Athrun Zala never really understands the sentiment of making a merry birthday celebration.

His secretary greets and wishes him a happy birthday, and she’s the first to do so. Later, office-time, Meyrin calls to pass her birthday greeting, and so do Kira and Lacus much later. It doesn’t really matter that he gets no presents, really. The sky is blue, the Fall weather is nice, Orb is fine and the world is healing. That’s enough a birthday present for him.

Thus, he doesn’t quite get it when his superior in the office ushers him home at freaking 13.00. “You’ve got a year for your work, so why not a day for yourself?” His boss says rather insistently.

Well, the thing is, again, Athrun doesn’t think that the oversimplified sentiment is applicable to people who work as civil servants, much less intelligence officers. Average salary, no official day off, no public appearance, those are applicable. And a quiet birthday, too, perhaps.

And, as he ends up in front of the coffee booth across the office before heading home, he counts in a cup of good coffee to his deserve-to-get list.

Before he even gets the chance to order, a familiar voice calling his name makes him turn around. His supreme superior officer greets him with a small smile on her frown-free face.

“Why, hello,” he says. “Kisaka-san would be furious when he finds out you’re going outside unguarded again.”

“Let’s just call this my incognito inspection.” Cagalli orders one for her own. “And you know the coffee here is better than the cafeteria’s.” She turns to speak to the booth keeper again—ordering for him, too, it seems. “Here. Today’s my treat.”

He accepts his cup and sips a bit, and realizations hits home.

She shrugs, then reaching inside the pocket of her jacket to take out some coins to give to the booth keeper.

Behind the rim of his cup, he smiles. “You remember.”

“Of course I do.” She takes a small sip of her own. “Two blocks of sugar. No milk. No big deal.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiles again. “Thank you.”

They lean against the booth, the arms of their jacket touching.