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Milly’s system is most decidedly a farce.
“It’s classical conditioning,” Lelouch says, cheek against hand, draped lazily across his chair, watching Suzaku flip through the sticker book Milly had only just introduced last week. He has two full pages of bright gold stars that glitter obnoxiously. “A crude hijacking of the brain’s reward pathways. You’re being trained.”
Suzaku continues smiling his vapid smile. “How can it be crude if it makes me so happy?”
“Because you’re easily impressed by the arbitrary, meaningless, and infantile. It’s a strategy that should only work on four-year-olds.”
Suzaku turns the page, and smiles wider, more pleased. More rows upon rows of near-perfectly spaced stars. Then there is just a hint of smugness. “That’s eighty-three. You know what that means.”
Lelouch scowls. “You’re hoarding them.”
“I’ve been earning them,” Suzaku corrects. “Seven more and I get another reward. Seventeen more, and I get a super reward — whatever that is.”
“A reward Milly clearly makes up on the spot,” Lelouch says. “Last time she gave you a chocolate bar.”
“The surprise is part of the fun.”
“You mean manipulation.”
Suzaku hums, unconvinced. He starts adding to his book the ten new stickers he’d just gotten in the recent council meeting.
Across the table, Rivalz is staring down at his much sadder collection like it might spontaneously multiply if he believes hard enough.
“At a hundred,” Rivalz says, not for the first time, “she might kiss me.”
Lelouch doesn’t dignify that with a response.
Suzaku, traitor-optimist that he is, says, “You never know.”
“How many stickers do you have, Lelouch?” Rivalz asks forlornly. “Care to donate? Given you don’t seem to care very much.”
“I can’t,” Lelouch grumbles, “even if I wanted to. I’m in the negatives. It’s by design, she’s out to get me.”
“That’s a shame,” Rivalz says, and sinks back into a depressive fugue.
“Well, you are often a disruptive force,” Suzaku points out.
“Yes, I recall,” Lelouch says dryly. “Apparently ‘verbal insubordination’ is a crime now.”
Suzaku smiles at that—soft and fond, and completely unhelpful. “You were being insubordinate though.”
“But was anything I said a lie?”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive things, you know.”
“Why don’t we talk about how arbitrary this system is?" Lelouch says. "Who does she think she is — the Central Bank of Sticker-land? Why is sticker debt even a thing?”
“Milly said you can make it up with good behaviour.”
“I don’t care what she said. They’re worth less than a cent. I could just buy more. That’s the definition of artificial scarcity—“
“Milly said if you do that, she will fine you one million stickers, and you will never recover,” Suzaku repeats verbatim, straight-faced, like the perfect little lackey Milly had somehow transformed him into overnight.
Lelouch scowls, eyeing Suzaku’s ridiculous, glittering hoard.
He does consider buying the stickers anyway.
If she fines him that much, then the system becomes meaningless, and it doesn’t matter how much debt he accumulates. After all, bankrupt is still bankrupt.
Suzaku notices the look and predictably softens. “You could try earning some with good behaviour,” he offers. “I could give you tips, given I have the most in the student council. I guess that makes me kind of an expert.”
Lelouch exhales sharply. “I refuse to participate in a system built on whimsy and coercion.”
Suzaku just smiles patiently. “If you say so.”
⋆⋆⋆✮☆🌟☆✮⋆⋆⋆
The fridge is, admittedly, an inspired choice.
A direct line of sight upon entry. Not to mention the association with food, which creates an implicit Pavlovian response. Lelouch has cracked the code. He rarely thinks of himself in these terms, but tonight he has earned the title of visionary.
Suzaku pauses halfway into the kitchen, still in uniform, arm outstretched and about to steal an apple. He’s staring.
There’s a paper chart, which is really just a simple two-column grid, divided into further rows using a lighter shade of ink. At the top in Lelouch’s precise handwriting:
THE BETTER STICKER SYSTEM
Suzaku says slowly, “Lelouch, what's going on?”
Lelouch crosses his arms smugly and leans his hip against the counter. “An improved model, improved because it’s made by yours truly. I provide more consistent, higher value rewards. And, more importantly, I buy nicer stickers.” He slides a sticker book toward him. “Take a look.”
Suzaku flips it open — gold stars, silver stars, red stars, iridescent ones in all colours. There’s assorted paper cranes, smiley faces, shiny animal stickers, stickers from Suzaku’s favourite TV show — this one about vampires. And that’s just the first four pages.
Then Suzaku looks at the fridge. His name is written neatly on the top left corner, and under it:
A single gold star.
Suzaku’s expression softens instantly. “I already have one?”
“For being a good boyfriend,” Lelouch says easily. “So that one’s free, but you’ll have to earn the rest.”
Suzaku lights up determinedly. “What do I have to do?”
Lelouch raises an eyebrow, eyes glinting. “That depends.”
“On?”
“My satisfaction,” he says. “This is a merit-based system, after all.”
“That sounds subjective.”
“Moreso than Milly’s reasoning?”
Suzaku considers that for exactly half a second. “Okay.”
“…You’re not going to question it?”
“No.” Suzaku steps closer, studying the chart, and then Lelouch’s face with earnest focus. His eyes slowly drift downwards to Lelouch’s mouth. “What about the big stars?”
“Those represent exceptional performance.”
“How exceptional?”
“Very exceptional,” Lelouch says seriously.
Suzaku nods, accepting this like it’s a briefing. “Do they count for more?”
“How does ten sound?”
“Ten,” Suzaku repeats, impressed.
Some electric charge seems to pass through the air between them.
Then Suzaku bridges the gap, pressing a warm kiss to Lelouch’s mouth, lingering just long enough to make Lelouch crave for more.
“Does that count?” he says, voice barely above a whisper.
Lelouch blinks, their faces still inches apart. “…I guess so.”
Suzaku smiles, pleased, and pulls him into another kiss — longer and slower and more meaningful. His arms come to wrap around Lelouch’s waist, thumb brushing the skin under Lelouch’s blazer; Lelouch shivers reflexively.
“And that?”
“Mm-hm,” Lelouch sighs.
Then comes another. One at the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his nose, the other cheek. Then he kisses him again on the mouth, this time with the barest hint of tongue tracing his bottom lip.
“And that?”
Lelouch exhales, backing into the counter, which serves to ground him a little. “You’re abusing the system.”
“I’m trying to satisfy you,” he murmurs, already leaning in again.
And Lelouch…allows it.
By the time Lelouch’s brain-cells regain the will to even consider stopping him, Lelouch’s arms are slung across Suzaku’s shoulders, buried in his hair, pulling him in for more. The kisses have transformed into something infinitely more distracting, and suddenly the concept of ‘stickers’ and ‘systems’ feels decidedly irrelevant.
When they finally part, Lelouch is breathing hard, staring at Suzaku through his hair, which had fallen over his eyes.
Suzaku smooths it back gently, thumbs brushing against his cheek, in that faux-innocent way like he hasn’t just completely ruined his composure.
“So?” he asks.
Lelouch stares at him for a long few moments, and sighs, reaching for the sticker book. “What colour did you want?”
“Gold, of course,” Suzaku says, like it’s serious business. “The classic.”
Lelouch peels off one of the large ones, which is offensively glossy, and carefully presses it onto Suzaku’s chart.
“There,” he says.
Suzaku beams at him. “Did I perform exceptionally well?”
Lelouch looks at him, then away, feeling his face heat up. “…Yes.”
Suzaku glances back at the chart, biting his lip, red from all the kissing. “I can probably get another one. How about…the big shiny tiger?”
Lelouch closes his eyes briefly.
The system works, he admits, begrudging.
…Perhaps a little too well.