back at it again

[brothered]

whistles innocently

Comments

[brothered]

[There's really no excuse for Sylvain's tardiness.

Or so Felix tells himself, anyway. So Felix tells himself, even though he's well aware that a) he wasn't expected to return home for two or so more days and b) he'd communicated as much to Sylvain in his last letter. Still, though! It isn't his fault that the roads had been much, much clearer than they had any right to be, especially in the middle of the Guardian Moon; he'd expected more snow, more bandits, more everything blocking his route from Fhirdiad to Fraldarius territory, and he'd run up against... absolutely nothing. Sunny mornings and smooth, surprisingly stress-free travel.

And you know what they say about Duke Fraldarius! All fun and no fighting makes him very tetchy indeed, so when Margrave Gautier finally arrives a day after Felix has settled in—well. Well. Is it any wonder the Fraldarius knights give him a pitying sort of look as he's led through the courtyard? Is it any wonder the servant who takes his cape and his baggage and whatever else he's brought with him feels the need to remind him that the Duke is oh-so tired after spending a month away from home? Not that Felix ever takes his temper out on them, of course; every member of his household has borne witness to Felix's true nature—and every member of his household loves him for it, but they also know just how close the Duke and the Margrave are. This is just, you know. Friendly concern. Their way of asking Sylvain not to hold anything against his particularly prickly partner.

Because as glad as he is to hear of Sylvain's arrival (re: very), Felix certainly is prickly. It's immediately obvious when a servant shows Sylvain to Felix's study, wherein Felix is standing by the fire, his back to the door as he reads the latest report from one of the minor lords in his territory. Something about the expected size of this year's harvest? He's not entirely sure; it's hard to focus on the meaning of the report when he knows—knows—that Sylvain is standing somewhere behind him, and yet he remains where he is, forcing himself to continue skimming line after line rather than turn around. There's a point to be made here, surely...

...And that point is that Felix is stupidly stubborn, but shh. Enjoy these few seconds of silence, please, before Felix finally deigns to speak.]

You're late.

[That tone is as sharp as ever. Hello, Sylvain. Felix missed you very much.]

[bethotted]

When Sylvain had left his own estate for Felix's, it had been an admittedly hurried, impatient departure. The messenger had only just been dismissed when the Margrave first set to making arrangements for his leave; had he been any quicker about it, he might very well have passed the poor man along the same road through to Fraldarius territory. Felix might have been away from home only a month, but they'd been apart some time longer still--two days read more like too long, and the thought of awaiting his own (more reasonably-timed) departure felt like a stone tied around his ankles, serving only to drag his feet until the day he could sever the weight.

So, naturally, the decision was made to Not do that. A few hasty arrangements later--some finalized as he was already mounting his horse, much to the displeasure of any others involved, but finalized all the same--and Sylvain finds himself making a familiar trip across the plains between their two territories. The cold air stings against his face, but if he keeps this pace, he thinks he should make it there well before the Duke has so much as crossed the border!

...Should. He does not.

The news comes as a surprise, and while it's far from an unwelcome one, it's... well!! Like, it's got its pros and its cons. For example, pro: he doesn't have to wait around at all, because Felix is already here. Con: he doesn't get to show off his amazing initiative, because Felix is already here!! He doesn't even bother asking the knights how long he's been here; any concern is waved off with a martyr's patience and the sigh to match, as if he's not perfectly thrilled to see him regardless of how prickly he may or may not be at any given time. It's part of his charm... or something.

In any case, by the time Sylvain reaches the study door, it takes a conscious effort to offer the servant a polite thanks when he's all but leaning into the room already, eyes drawn to the frame of the other against the fire. He could wax poetic? Like, he could--it's within the realm of possibility, and it would sound just as ridiculous as any throwaway line he's got at his disposal--but he knows Felix was told of his arrival? He knows Felix heard him at the door, for fuck's sake, and that means that Felix is ignoring him... until he isn't anymore, which, first of all, rude?

But, "Late?" he repeats, incredulous. So he's late, now, is he! Hm!! "Last I checked, a 'two days' ride' is supposed to take someone two days to travel. Did your messenger get lost, or did you seriously just forget how to count?"

#Gottem. He's just gonna wander in like it's any other social visit and pause a few steps away, one hand to his hip. Is the servant still standing in the doorway? ...Maybe so. They weren't given a proper dismissal, so instead they're just trying to politely pretend they aren't listening to these grownass men--a Duke and Margrave no less--bicker like four-year-olds.

[brothered]

[He's been back for a full day? Surrounded by familiar faces as he deals with familiar problems, because there's no rest for Duke Fraldarius—but it isn't until he hears this familiar voice that he finally feels at home. And that's... stupidly sentimental, really; he knows it, hence the brief flash of annoyance that accompanies the warmth blooming in his chest, but! Well! He also knows—and appreciates!—that Sylvain has always been a warm, comfortable presence in his life.

And goddess help him, but he loves this man. All it takes is a quick, almost careless glance over his shoulder to remind him of that fact... which is why he shifts his attention right back down to his report, snorting ever so quietly as he buys himself a few extra seconds to ensure that he's entirely under control.]

Hardly. Perhaps I'm the better rider.

[Which is patently false, given that Sylvain has always excelled in horsemanship, but Felix is... Felix; expressing affection through sarcastic jabs is just his Thing, so this is a good sign, surely! Especially when he follows it up by carefully folding that report up, by turning to toss it on top of his (overflowing) desk while giving the servant loitering by the door a curt nod. Dismissed! At last! The servant bows low, backing into the hallway before easing the door closed.

But it isn't until Felix hears the door click into place that he turns to fully face Sylvain, one of his trademark smirks playing about his lips.]

Or perhaps you're slower than you used to be.

[Bam! Anyway: There's an unfortunate amount of space between them; he'd like for that to shrink, thanks, but as impatient as he is, making the first move is not on his agenda. That sort of shamelessness is Sylvain's area of expertise? Felix is wound too tightly to take even the smallest step forward; he needs a reason—an excuse—to cut himself loose, and surely they both know it.]

[bethotted]

Now that suggestion earns a soft snort in response, because their skill regarding mounts is as different as their skill regarding swords; having not only trained, but fought beside one another as well, in countless battles no less, each of them are more than aware of that fact. But Felix is, in fact, Felix, and that means Sylvain sees the... accusation? Sure. He sees the accusation for what it is, the warmth hidden well beneath the other's steely tone as obvious to him as if he'd been greeted with nothing less than a plainly stated, 'I'm glad you're here.'

His attention may wander briefly as the door's closed behind them, listening for the moment when it's decidedly shut, but whether it's to look him over for any sign of injury or to trail his gaze along familiar features with the kind of open admiration most others would be embarrassed to be caught in, his eyes never actually leave Felix.

"Is that what you think!" He shakes his head, amused. It's not a question, just like this argument isn't really an argument, either.

Anyway: Sylvain shifts his weight and eeeever so casually crosses the rest of the distance, now that they don't have any prying eyes to worry about, and now that Felix has discarded whatever report he'd had his attention on before. He's still... careful? Like, he knows this is fine, knows that Felix would sooner take a dagger to his side than just put up with anything he might do--but while there's still a practiced confidence in the way he draws himself in close, what little space remains between them is left there intentionally, breached only by the hand he lifts to (gently, damn near adoringly) brush some loose hair from the other's face.

"Huh... And here I thought you just missed me that much." Enough to race the sun itself. And win, impossibly enough. "But I guess there really isn't anyone around to keep me in shape while you're gone, is there?"

Darn the luck! Guess Felix will just have to stay at home more often, so his dearest, darlingest childhood friend Sylvain doesn't fall further behind his peers. Dimitri can... uhhh...... well. Hm. Maybe Dimitri can't just take care of things himself...! That's... fine, it's fine, there's an obvious solution here still: congrats, Felix! Looks like Fraldarius territory is just gonna have to become the new capital.

[brothered]

[Felix doesn't enjoy being stared at; it puts him on edge, honestly, and yet, while he has to cast a quick glance to the side, he doesn't insist that Sylvain do anything of the sort. He knows how Sylvain is! He's come to accept soft looks and even softer gestures, which is why he allows Sylvain to step closer, to fuss with his hair in a way that no one has ever, ever been permitted to do before. Sylvain gets away with all manner of things, so long as they're alone—and Felix is in a good mood, but let's be real: Felix is often in a good mood when Sylvain is nearby. Funny how that works...

He does, however, have his limits, as evidenced by the way he tilts his head away from that hand after a few seconds have passed? Only a hairsbreadth, really; like, he can feel the warmth of Sylvain's fingers, still so very close to his skin, but he forces himself to focus back on Sylvain's face. Hmm, yes, he missed this. He missed everything about this.]

Of course there isn't. You're hopeless.

[But also his, his, his, so he's allowed to close this last bit of space between them by reaching up to grab hold of Sylvain's shirt. Thank the goddess Sylvain saw fit to strip off his armor before he came marching in here? A little thing Felix appreciates in the moment, even as he wrinkles nose in (mostly) mock disgust.]

And you smell like a horse.

[A grumbled sort of complaint that sounds more fond than anything else, because... Sylvain just rode how many miles to come see him? To be here now, warm and welcoming, and while Felix refuses to raise up on his toes for a kiss (to begin with, anyway)—well. As he gives that shirt a sharp tug, tilting his head back as he does so, he knows that he doesn't have to.]

are we officially furries now... oh jesus? oh god

[brothered]

[Setting: You Know Where. Time: A Mystery. Mood: Less Than Optimal, presumably, because do these two Ye Oldes enjoy every aspect of the bright, neon-colored city they've been forced to call home for the past however long it's been? Certainly not—but Sylvain has presumably settled in without too many problems, and even Felix, a professional Grump, has to admit that there are... perks. Not the lack of a war to fight (and the surplus of free time that comes with that, and certainly not the ridiculous moon cycle that's currently granting him stupid black cat ears, but, well.

Hmm. Let's start small, shall we? The food isn't terrible; like, the dinner he recently enjoyed was adequately spicy, so that's a plus. The entertainment isn't as highbrow as, say, the operas he'd enjoyed in Fhirdiad during peacetime, but the "movies" with far more action than sex are enjoyable enough. And the company...

...The company is, ah, excellent, although Felix sees no reason to say such a thing when he glances over at the familiar man walking alongside him—and there it is again! That familiar bloom of warmth in his chest as he realizes that this is more than his friend; after dancing around the issue for months and awkwardly, awkwardly piecing things together, this is his... person? His lover. The most important person in his world, which is a terrifying thing to think about, so—hey! He's not going to! He'll turn his attention back to the movie they just finished watching, and as they stroll into the brisk night air, arms brushing against one another (electrifying even after all these weeks of nearly constant contact, holy shit), he'll sum up the experience in his typically blunt fashion:]

That was stupid.

[Says the person who picked the movie, but in his DEFENSE, the ads... focused on the action. How was he supposed to that it would center on a romance where the conflict could have been solved in the first, like, ten minutes. If only she'd stuck around long enough to listen! If only!]

Welcome to hell welcome to hell welcome to hell welcome to h

[bethotted]

Sylvain's a pretty adaptable guy!! Like, he adjusted pretty easily to the bright and colorful world they just sort of... found themselves in one day? Thanks, Sothis, for finally deciding to yeet Sylvain out of the universe altogether, but more importantly, thanks for letting him continue to be a selfish bastard by letting him keep Felix.

He also adjusted pretty easily to the new technology, or at least the day-to-day stuff, and it should probably be embarrassing how smooth the transition was from using coin to using (and thus accumulating) Chroma, but Sylvain will be Sylvain with or without a reason. The cycles... took some getting used to? They aren't nearly as bad as some he's seen during either of the other moons, granted, but the whole... waking up one morning and suddenly having new additions in the way of two (2) black-tipped ears and one (1) fluffy tail? He'd been warned ahead of time, thankfully, but still!! How does one just Accept these things?? Especially when aforementioned tail is long enough to brush the ground when he walks, like, come on. That's just excessive.

This... new dynamic, though? This new... thing, new relationship, between him and Felix--that's something else he's still adjusting to. It's somehow both thrilling and terrifying all at once, and he'll still catch himself holding his breath for even the most innocent gesture of affection, like the careful brush of his fingers over Felix's while they were still in the theatre. Embarrassing!! But also: worth it, and probably what made sitting through the rest of the movie worthwhile at all, in his opinion.

"Harsh," he replies, tone unsuitably diplomatic for the solemn nod he gives in agreement, "but true. If they were just gonna throw years of trust away at the first sign of trouble, then their first mistake was establishing the leads as long-standing partners."

Cinema critic Sylvain... good lord. But listen, okay, he knows firsthand what it's like to rely on someone to have your back for so long? He knows how it feels to know, wholeheartedly, that you would risk life and limb and more to keep them safe in turn. One misunderstanding would never be enough to torch the entirety of what's already been built at that point, not from either side--and especially not one so small scale in the long run. It would take some monumental fucking betrayal, he thinks, and then decides to not think about that after all, because, hi! Professional Relationship Ruiner here. He'd rather not think of ways to fuck up the one good and lasting relationship he's had in his entire life. Even from a purely logical perspective, it's a moot point! The directors wouldn't have had time to include something so drastic! Frankly, the problem with movies in this world is that everyone apparently tries to cram as much as humanly possible in under two hours... So sayeth the Ye Olde who happens to be used to productions that take, like?? Multiple hours. WITH an intermission. Things these uncultured Modern Youths will never appreciate!! Someone give him a damn cane.

He pauses for only a second while he gives in to the temptation being so close brings, indulging himself with a subtle shift of his arm to try and catch Felix's fingers with his own, wondering if he'll allow it, as he fixes his thoughts on The Movie, and nothing else. He is definitely not marveling at the fact he can just Do these things, not even a little bit.

"You do have to give the guy some credit..."

The initial misunderstanding was, with some amount of certainty, his fault! For all they might have overreacted in order to drag out the otherwise simple plot, Sylvain wouldn't blame the girl for being upset with him. However, he also felt the guy's dedication afterward to proving himself to her, in order to win both her trust and her love, in true 'cheesy action-romance movie' style.

"I mean, don't get me wrong!" He's quick to defend this Highly Controversial statement before Felix can get a word in to argue, because he knows exactly how much credit he'll think is deserved. "He pulled some stupid stunts, for sure. But he had some impressive timing there, during the last battle--and you've gotta admit, he looked good doing it."

i 100% blame you for this

[brothered]

[True enough, Sylvain! True enough, which is why Felix initially only hums in acknowledgement, busy thinking about the many, many reasons the two leads were fools when he feels that much larger hand bump against his. ...Hmm. He isn't stupid; like, he remembers the many times Sylvain's hand just so happened to come in contact with his during the movie, and he's well aware how carefully orchestrated said contact truly was, but while he'd normally be highly annoyed by this point in time? Again: hmm. If anything, he's more annoyed that it's taken Sylvain this long to be, ah, this bold, because being bold is Sylvain's entire thing. Shouldn't this have happened far sooner... was Felix hoping that it would...

...You know what? It's a yes to both those non-questions, which is why Felix decides to lace his fingers between Sylvain's—without looking over at him, of course, because while he's jumping right to Advanced hand-holding, there's still a limit to these things. He can already feel his ears twitching atop his head.

But oh, Sylvain. Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain. Felix isn't necessarily the jealous sort, given all they've gone through together—and given the fact that Sylvain just is how he is, but his fingers twitch against Sylvain's when he hears that ridiculous opinion. Give the guy some credit because he ~looked good~, huh? Huh.]

Did he? I didn't notice.

[Because the guy was doing stupid shit, yes, but he wasn't a tall redhead doing stupid shit. Felix is a picky man, thanks; the world is sorted into Sylvain and People Other Than Sylvain, so while he could give Sylvain another lecture about not taking unnecessary risks, or while he could be pissy about Sylvain checking out someone other than himself—well! Who's going home with whom, you know? The night is going well, and Felix is feeling absurdly warm, so instead of arguing about something that doesn't really matter:]

Stupid stunts, all for attention— [A beat, like he's seriously thinking about this, before he adds:] Sounds like he attended one of your seminars.

[Bam.]

I will accept responsibility, bc Felix with cat ears is too good to pass up

[bethotted]

Advanced hand-holding! Felix moves faster than Sylvain would have expected him to, honestly, and while that continues to be a (more than) welcome surprise, it's still enough for his eyes to dart quickly over as if seeking some silent confirmation that, yes, this is both intentional and acceptable. If not, the glare ought to be obvious, but he's not even looking at him... which, with Felix, is as good as any verbal acceptance. His expression softens even as he looks back to the path before them.

Joking aside, Sylvain is absolutely bold enough to do these things!! He's not, like, new to the concept of PDA, and he's certainly not shy about it... Felix is no exception! If he'd decided to toss an arms over his shoulders and lean in to kiss him, Sylvain's sure he wouldn't so much as blush. And yet, as he folds his fingers securely between Felix's, it manages to strike some warm, fluttering thing in his chest; it's intrinsically tied to Felix himself in a way that's as familiar as it is unfamiliar, or... just unexplored, maybe? The now-familiar buzz of Chroma between them is there, too, but it feels... more like an afterthought? An added bonus to something that's just as fulfilling with as it would be without.

His hold tightens in a gentle squeeze as if to say, 'good luck getting me to let go now' before it settles into something more comfortable, fingertips brushing light against his knuckles instead. But--wow? How rude. Have this Look, which definitely, 100%, isn't at all amused.

"Hey, I would've taught him better moves than that!" Because that's definitely the part that needs to be focused on, here, but: "Besides," he continues, smugly casual, "if I'd taught him anything, then he would've been sure to get you to notice him."

Is he implying he tries to get Felix to notice him with his stupidity... maybe a little, but like, Felix should know when a Line is JUST a Line. Mostly.

the obligatory mistletoe thread (tm)

[brothered]

[Felix had seen Annette prancing about with an armful of greenery earlier in the day? Had, in fact, offered to help her carry them, because Annette is Annette and Felix can't help but to bend over backwards for her. Every other Faerghus native gets sharp looks and even sharper words; Annette gets niceness. Annette is special.

Was special, but as Felix glances up at the enchanted something-or-other he's currently stuck underneath—hmph. Hmph. Annette, he decides, is now officially one of the Others, because not only did she (somehow) hang this damn thing up, but she steered him right underneath it! She did! All because Ashe was steering Sylvain underneath it, from the opposite side, and just like that, both Felix and Sylvain were trapped in what might just be... the smallest doorway in all of Garreg Mach? All while Annette and Ashe saluted—saluted!—one another before disappearing down either end of the hallway, giggling like idiots.

And that... well. This type of foolishness isn't wholly unexpected, given the recent, uh, relationship change? Felix and Sylvain going from bickering best friends to a bickering couple. Nothing Felix wanted to make a big deal out of, but obviously something all of their friends did want to make a big deal out of, and thus—this! A friendly little prank, ha, ha, ha, look at Felix leaning back against the doorframe and scowling up at the person who is most definitely grinning down at him.]

You. [Sharp! Dangerous! So perfectly Felix™, which he makes all the more serious by imperiously lifting his chin.] Did you know about this?

[Did you plan it, Sylvain? Don't lie!!!]

'Tis the season for maximum stupidity

[bethotted]

Sylvain absolutely is grinning down at him, although in his defense, he'd been just as clueless as Felix when Ashe had insisted on bringing him over this way!! He is--for once--completely innocent.

...Or, y'know. Mostly innocent. Because while he hadn't EXPECTED this scenario by any means when they'd first started off in this direction, he maaaay or may not have noticed the decoration hanging overhead about 3/4ths of the way... and Felix himself, a few steps before even that. He also may or may not have already known about this spot, just like he may or may not have been planning to catch Felix under it at some point tonight anyway... Who's to say, really? Something something, innocent until proven guilty, and besides all those may or may nots, the fact remains that they're here NOW! So:

"What, you mean this thing?" he asks, lifting a brow and one finger to point casually up at the 'this thing' in question. "You'll need to be more specific, Felix."

He's just gonna place one hand on his hip and let the other fall to his side, pointedly Not Touching Him despite how decidedly crowded their shared doorway might be... and how tempted he is to do the exact opposite.

"If you're asking whether I knew this would be here, then sure. Annette was in the common room coming up with ideas for this for the last two weeks." There's an implied, "I helped," in there somewhere, although it feels like it would be especially incriminating if spoken aloud...

ho ho ho

[brothered]

[Well, excuse Felix for listening attentively to Annette as they walked down the hallway? He never thought that she, of all people, would betray him like this? But he can totally see Sylvain, like, dropping subtle (or not-so-subtle) suggestions about specific doorways, and specific times, and specific people...

...But, uh, Sylvain's response more or less confirms his suspicions, so enjoy the way Felix's eyes narrow even further, sir, as he crosses his arms. He doesn't need to be specific when Sylvain definitely knows what he means. Ugh.]

And you helped.

[Is this a testament to how well Felix knows Sylvain, or how predictable Sylvain is when it comes to stuff like this? It's both, really. But if he accepts that Sylvain played some part in this, which he absolutely does, then it makes sense for Sylvain... to have arranged everything in the first place? To have them oh-so conveniently walking down the same hallway at the same time, hence:]

You set this up, just to— so you could—

[He looks down with a huff, faint color appearing in his cheeks, because HRKHDFDSF he's not sayin' it.]

[bethotted]

Helped... is such a strong word, really! It's so unfortunate that it's the one best suited. But Felix is going on before Sylvain can even finish the half-shrug that's all but an admission of guilt on its own, and really, how can he expect him to not look for ways to tease him when he turns around and does things like this??

"So I could... what, exactly?" He tilts his head to try (and fail) to hold his eyes, looking for all he's worth as if he's having the time of his life. Sylvain (poorly) plays dumb: part deux. "...So I could kiss you, you mean?"

Because that is the idea here, isn't it? The agreement, however loosely made it had been and however magically enforced, between all of them tonight: if anyone gets caught beneath a mistletoe, they HAVE to play along with the smoochin' tradition.

But he won't bring up the rules a good half of his dear, beloved, boring friends had only agreed to in order to prevent any furthering of the subject. Rather, Sylvain's grin only softens around the edges, undeniable amusement giving way to a heavy wave of fondness instead as he steps carefully forward and lifts one hand to Felix's chin in an attempt to lift it back towards him. It's gonna be super hard to kiss him if he won't even look up.

"Come on--as if I need a reason." His other hand finds Felix's waist of its own accord, and it will absolutely wind its way behind him if left alone. "Sorry to say, but no... This was all their doing." ...And then, as if it's an afterthought: "I was going to pick one a little farther from the festivities."

Remember when you asked if we were furries? 🤡

[bethotted]

It's probably karma, truth be told, that Sylvain's managed to find himself in a world that can very deliberately call him out for being Horny on Main in a way that's as unconventional as it is inconvenient. Like... the first couple of times it happened might've been funny, in a self-reflective sort of way, if he hadn't spent them losing track of how long he'd agonize over the unshakable need to touch and be touched, heated thoughts inevitably turning towards the best friend he'd since decided to entrust himself with for his cycles' durations.

Even when he's been granted some reprieve, need tempered into a more manageable want only slightly stronger than the kind he's had years of practice both pretending at and denying in turn, he still finds himself drawn to Felix in increasingly obvious ways--especially so lately, now that he's allowed the liberties of not just a friend, but also those of a lover. It... doesn't exactly make things easier? Not when he still has to go through it all in the first place, but at least it means he doesn't have to feel (quite as) selfish when he asks Felix to lay with him for the evening! Or when he spends half of it with his face buried in Felix's hair... Or against his throat... Or close enough to Felix's own that every second he doesn't spend closing the distance leaves a real, physical ache in his chest.

Listen. He's already a needy shit at the best of times. Iris' influence just means he can't resist being a needy shit at all.

Like... oh, now, for example! Wherever Felix is, whatever he's doing, hi! Hello. He should stop that, because Sylvain is going to very suddenly invade his personal space as thoroughly as he can given the lack of warning. Can he get away with wrapping his arms around his waist? He's wrapping his arms around his waist, somehow or another. Please pay attention to him.

"Come to bed," he murmurs, although a part of him is distantly aware that he has no idea what time it actually is, or when the last time was that he even thought to check, only that he's spent the past Too Long wanting him, and he's had nothing but his own wandering thoughts for company. He'd much rather have Felix himself, warm and solid against him, even if it sparks the heat under his skin to a near unbearable degree. "I can't stop thinking about you."

TL;DR: Him horny. He's lucky Felix loves him anyway.

don't you fuckin dare... it's only the ears! the EARS!!!

[brothered]

[And there's plenty to be said for the many, ah, changes Felix has been forced to come to terms with during their time here? Paragraphs upon paragraphs just waiting to be written, focusing on both his own cycle (bad!) and the new relationship (good!) he's somehow stumbled into, but all that currently matters is this: Felix is... happy. Not always! This world is still wacky, and nothing in life is perfect, but there is something, mmm, decidedly satisfying about catching sight of Sylvain and knowing that he's his. No more dancing around feelings...

...Knowing that, however, doesn't make being grabbed from behind any better! Especially not when Felix is doing something as innocuous as standing in front of the kitchen sink and filling a cup with water. Like, is it any wonder he instinctively stiffens, wholly unprepared for this unexpected contact? Let a man stay hydrated in peace, Sylvain. God damn.

But it isn't as though Felix wasn't expecting something like this, given that it's That time of the month. He'd known what he was in for the moment he saw those stupid ears atop Sylvain's head—so he resists the very real urge to jam an elbow right back into Sylvain's stomach, choosing instead to focus on the warm puffs of breath near his ear.]

I'm not what you're thinking about.

[By which he means the focus isn't, ah, entirely on him, ya HUSSY! But while he isn't necessarily opposed to wasting the afternoon with his favorite person, it's the principle of the matter? Something, something, he isn't at Sylvain's beck and call (even though he absolutely is), so he wills himself to relax, to reach forward to turn the faucet on. Look at him, continuing to fill this glass like there isn't an incredibly attractive individual nuzzling against his neck... he's soooooo above it all, hence his oh-so casual:]

You can wait.

[He's a different kind of thirsty, you see. Deal with it.]

Mmhm, suuuuure... that's what they all say

[bethotted]

He appreciates not being elbowed, thanks, especially since he's too distracted elseways to do a damn thing about it if he DID. But he most certainly does not appreciate being more or less ignored in favor of... what, a glass of water...? Please. He's the one dying of thirst, here.

"Felix..."

It's... a warning? A protest? A placeholder, in the sense that there are really just too many things he wants to say here, his usual talent for weaving his thoughts into carefully crafted words failing him now that his one, functional braincell has not just left the building, but torched the place on its way out. It's a lot of things, all packed neatly into a sound that's half a sigh and half a whine, but primarily--because Sylvain knows that, of anyone, Felix has always been a little too good at seeing through him--it's just a simpler way to get all of them across at once.

He can wait, he says... Damn. Sylvain can't help but think that there's something decidedly unfair about the way that unaffected tone only makes him that much more desirable.

"You're all I can think about," he corrects him, insistent even as his hands trail perhaps a little too boldly downward. If it takes some (or more than just some) conscious effort to redirect them to his hips instead, the only hint Felix will get is one slow, steadying breath as Sylvain turns to duck his head against the side of his. "If you come with me..."

He trails off, both as a suggestion, and because he's apparently more interested in pressing more kisses along whatever skin he can reach, but the implication that he'll be all too happy to prove where his thoughts have been this whole time is definitely right there.

can't believe i have to kill you? sad

[brothered]

[Sylvain has said his name countless times, countless ways—but it's amazing, really, how hearing Sylvain say his name like this eclipses everything that came before. Two familiar syllables, spoken with such need that Felix almost—almost!—fumbles with the faucet as he shuts it off, because he isn't nearly as, ah, experienced as Sylvain; there are still times when he's caught entirely off guard, either by Sylvain or his own reaction to him. It is all... So Much.

As is the man standing behind him, apparently determined to drive him to distraction, but here's the thing: Felix is nothing if not stubborn? Felix is fiercely determined to win, even when, as those light kisses trailing down his jaw remind him, there's no real way to lose. He could sink back against Sylvain, could put up a bit of (token) resistance before allowing him to do as he pleases and take what he needs, and it would be very, very good—and yet it could be better, Felix thinks. Maybe.

...Maybe. It's something to consider, at least, hence his quiet hum as he carefully brings the glass of water to his lips. He can't take a sip, thanks to Sylvain's, ah, attentiveness, but that's fine; the glass is more for the drama of it all than anything else, because current attitude aside, he's in no hurry to shove Sylvain away.]

If, [he repeats, voice calm, measured, even though his breathing has obviously quickened.] I'm hardly convinced.

[And that's cruel enough—except it isn't? Not by a long shot. Hearing the smoothest talker he knows obviously struggle to string together a sentence is oddly thrilling; it's reminiscent of, oh, steering a sparring opponent into a corner, watching them realize that their chances of coming out on top are rapidly dwindling with each step they take. Hmm, hmm, hmm. The type of thing Felix lives for, which is perhaps why, when he speaks up once more, there's a clear, almost cocky undercurrent to his voice. Who's in control...]

You can do better than that, Sylvain. Keep talking.

How many PSL threads will we start before we admit we have a Problem...

[bethotted]

It had started off... subtle, to say the least.

Like, objectively speaking, there had been nothing wrong with the way Dimitri lingered in the doorway of the infirmary, while he hovered as near as he could without disrupting the work of the healers. Felix had taken a bad hit from an enemy soldier--not that you'd know it from how firmly he'd tried to shoo him out--and granted, Sylvain would be the first to admit that his attention hadn't exactly been on their friend at the time? But even if he hadn't noticed the unwavering sort of focus in his eye, he'd have to be blind not to recognize the same relief mirrored back at him when they'd been assured (ironically, it felt like it was more for their sake than Felix's) that all he still needed was some bedrest and it would be like nothing had happened.

It wasn't until well-after Felix was back on his feet that Sylvain began connecting the dots. And you know... He likes to think he wouldn't have thought anything of Dimitri trying to rebuild some shaky bridge between himself and Felix, now that he's finally come back to them? He likes to think he'd be happy to see them smiling at each other the way they used to, because Sylvain has known from the very beginning how close they used to be, and because come hell or high water, they're his friends, too.

But see, here's the thing: time has a funny way of changing people, whether they're your friends or not. It's great at easing tensions, for one--and now that there's some tenuous sort of truce between the two of them, it becomes... increasingly obvious when Dimitri insists on redirecting conversation to Felix, no matter the company shared or topic.

...Or when his eye lingers just a little too long when he thinks no one's looking.

...Or when he just so happens to find his way into the training grounds when Felix is already there, and rarely ever else--and for all Sylvain would rather sit back and let his attention fall to Felix, Felix, Felix while he trains, he finds himself suggesting they train together more and more often to offset the increasingly inevitable, 'Oh, Felix. Were you in need of a partner?' before the acrid taste of the words, 'no, thanks, he already has one,' burns badly enough against his tongue that he's forced to finally spit them out.

This time... he thinks it was that Look he'd been giving him during their meeting, honestly, as if he was just waiting for the chance to talk to him one on one... Did half the discussion go completely over Sylvain's head because of this...? ...You know what, maybe so! But catch him practically shoving himself away from the table the second Felix gets up anyway, specifically so he can just... catch up and slide an arm around his shoulders as natural as can be as he falls into step alongside him, hello!! Don't... wander too far, please.

"So..." Thank the goddess he can manage to sound like he's trying to be suggestive when he's trying to act like he has a reason to hang off of him like this that doesn't involve explaining this irrational spike of irritation at their dear, old friend. "Did you have anything planned for tonight?"

Inb4 "Training, obviously."

we don't have a problem? we just have good ideas!

[brothered]

[Felix once thought that his first friend was lost to him forever? Watched Dimitri pace about the cathedral night after night, a beast in the shape of a man, and felt his stomach drop, his heart clench. Dimitri had been everything to him, when they were younger. Felix had orbited around him like he was the sun itself.

And so it's good to have him back, even if things are, ah, rather rough about the edges. They rarely see eye-to-eye; their conversations halt and hitch, but at least they can speak now. Felix can look at him without feeling the distinct desire to retch, because enough of the old Dimitri—his Dimitri—is there. They're slowly inching closer to settling into something more... comfortable.

Too slowly for Dimitri, it sometimes seems. Not that he pushes for more than he's given, or demands more than he deserves, but there are times when Felix feels the weight of Dimitri's gaze upon him and he wants to whirl about and ask, what? What do you want, what do you expect, what do you need? He's already given so, so much to Dimitri over the years; it would be nice, Felix thinks, to keep what little is left. To give it freely, if and when he so chooses.

Only to one person, however. The person who's always beside him, expecting nothing aside from sharp insults and even sharper looks—but that's impossible, Felix knows. Sure, Sylvain has been spending more time at the training grounds lately, his willingness—eagerness?—to spar catching Felix by surprise; sure, he's been sticking closer to Felix's side than ever before, often the first and last person Felix sees in a day's time; sure, he slings an arm across Felix's shoulder like it belongs there, says things in such a syrupy way that Felix feels the tops of his ears catch fire.

But Sylvain is... Sylvain. Straightforward in some ways; infuriatingly confusing in others, which is why Felix's eyes narrow as he studies him, simultaneously enjoying and hating the weight of his arm. In the corner of his eye, he can see Dimitri watching them, doing a poor job of pretending to shuffle papers, and while Dimitri's opinion of this doesn't matter... ah. Well. Felix feels something tighten within, because Sylvain unknowingly playing with his emotions for all the world to see is a painful, painful thing.]

If you're planning to ask me to go into town with you, save your breath, [he all but snaps, hating that he can't quite convince himself to pull himself free.] I have training to catch up on.

[Something, something, they've had little free time after their last battle? He's feeling rusty... and testy... and girls have cooties...]

Maybe we just have good problems! Food for thot!

[bethotted]

Called it! And he might not be able to feel smug over predicting a predictable response, but he certainly can when it comes to that faint flush of color against the dark of his hair. He can't help but wonder what sort of thought he might have invited; then, stupidly, he wonders what it would take to find out, and ah, but that's a dangerous path to tread, isn't it...? That's a path full of twists and turns and uncertainties, because it leads to questions like how dark he might blush if Sylvain were to make good on whatever he had imagined, or whether Sylvain trusts himself enough to risk such a thing to begin with.

"I wasn't! Honest," he insists, bringing his free hand up to his own chest as if to demonstrate the source of this apparent honesty. It actually almost startles him himself, if only because, in disagreeing, he realizes for probably the first time how long it's been since he'd last spent the night out like he'd used to. And he's... surprisingly fine with that? Wild. "But really, training? Again?"

The fact that Dimitri is absolutely listening to them sits like a bitter coil in his stomach. He doesn't have to look over to feel his eye on them--on Felix, especially--and... hm. Without thinking, that arm around him tightens.

"Not for nothing, Felix," he says, this time sort of ducking his head towards him so that he can lower his voice, "but when was the last time you took a break...? Come on, it's rare we get some time to ourselves like this!"

If he's lucky, maybe Felix will take the hint that he's not interested in broadcasting their potential whereabouts to any potential (and unnecessary) tagalongs... Or maybe he'll just get annoyed and push him away, but like, he figures he's got a pretty good 50/50 shot.

"At least let's go grab something to eat, first. Whatever you want, my treat." Because, you know? They haven't had a lot of free time since their last battle. That means this is the perfect time to make proper use of it.

food for thot... closes my EYES

[brothered]

[Training! Again. Until the war is won, Felix will give his training everything he has; like, he can always be stronger, be better, and one of the driving forces for this just so happens to be giving him (friendly) shit for it. Rankling enough to send Felix's eyes narrowing even further...

...Until he's tugged closer? Until Sylvain's face is suddenly much closer than it has any right to be, and there's a moment where Felix's eyes actually widen, his shoulders stiffening as he adjusts to the new, ah, state of things. It's stupid, really; Sylvain has always ignored his personal space, has always pushed past his bubble to do exactly the sort of thing he's doing now, but after everything... hmm. Felix's eyes drift down, down, down, watching Sylvain's lips form the words that make up his, ah, second invitation. And would it be so bad to eat, you know... would it be so bad to follow Sylvain to the dining hall, or to town...

Answer: No. Not really—but only because he's used to the pain? Not that Sylvain ever intentionally causes it, he thinks. Felix's thoughts regarding Sylvain are tightly kept secrets, so it isn't as though Sylvain leaning in close like this is anything malicious; it's just... Sylvain being Sylvain. That's all.

But the pain, however dull by this point in time, would still be there, and that's what sends Felix's eyes narrowing once more. Just because he can handle something doesn't mean he should—and Dimitri is still there in the background, watching them so intently, and Felix impulsively jabs his elbow into Sylvain's side.]

I'll eat when I'm hungry, [he definitely snaps this time, and for good measure, he punctuates it with a sharp:] Alone.

[Just in case the boar was getting any ideas. He'd rather not have company whenever he wanders to the dining hall, he decides, so here: let him twist and slip from Sylvain's grasp, spots of color still high on his cheekbones as he gives Sylvain a fierce Look.]

If you want to treat me, then take your training seriously.

[He's not even thinking of... now, really? It's just a harsh, yet true, Thing to say before he turns to stride toward the door. He's going to go destroy, like, soooo many training dummies. Bet on it.]

makes the sign of the cross... sprinkles holy water everywhere...

[brothered]

[As far as mornings go, this one could certainly be better.

First of all, there is something distinctly uncomfortable about waking up hot, so hot, practically burning alive, when Felix is normally as cold-blooded as they come? And he's so sensitive! Goddess above, but he's aware of every nerve ending in his body as he blinks away the vestiges of sleep; even the sheets tangled about his legs soon feel overwhelming, and he kicks himself free the moment he's conscious enough to do so, expecting to hear... a chuckle. A grumbled complaint, perhaps, because he remembers the person he fell asleep beside, whose room he's currently in. Oh, yes. How could he possibly forget.

What Felix hears, however, is silence. Nothing at all, which sends him twisting, one arm flopping onto an empty, cold expanse of bedding when it should be settling across a certain someone's waist—and that's, mmm, understandable, even if it is far from ideal. They're in the midst of a war? Mere weeks away from marching on Enbarr, so of course they're pulled away at odd hours, instructed to manage this or that with such frequency that they barely have any time to rest.

...Still. Still. They'd known this was coming; they'd managed, somehow, to carve out a sliver of time for themselves. For Felix, who is so keenly aware of Sylvain's absence. He should be annoyed, he thinks—and the tail thrashing behind him proves that he is, but above it all, Felix simply feels... empty. Desperately so.

And that feeling only intensifies as the Sylvain-less seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours. Two or three, maybe. Nothing too terrible, the rational part of Felix knows, but it's still entirely too much. He writhes on the bed; he paces about the room; he briefly considers going to train, even going so far as to strip off his nightshirt and attempt to dress himself, but—ah. It's all too much, given his current state; he winds up grabbing the shirt Sylvain stripped off the night before, briefly irritated by how neat the man is (seriously, who takes the time to hang their dirty laundry over the back of a chair?) before the familiar, comforting scent clinging to the fabric sends him crawling back into Sylvain's bed. He could wrap a hand around himself, he knows... take the edge off with a few quick strokes...

But he's stronger than that, isn't he? So, so stubborn, despite the tightness behind his eyes as he squeezes them shut and focuses on waiting, waiting, waiting. Sylvain will be back. He always comes back—and while Felix is pulled so taut it feels as though he could snap at any moment, Felix has no choice but to lie here.

The moment he hears the door open, though? The very second? Felix finds himself sitting upright before he's even fully aware of what, exactly, he's doing, glassy eyes pinned on the person who soon steps into the room.]

You left.

[It's meant to sound like an accusation? A particularly haughty one, given the way his ears lay back, his tail thumps against the bed behind him—but the unfortunate truth is that it sounds... more whiny than anything. Pitiful. A perfect match for his flushed face, disheveled hair, much-too-big shirt slipping off a shoulder, because ah, he is a Mess.]

[chants of "nūllus est deus" drone on in the distance]

[bethotted]

The good news is that they had known this was coming! The bad news, however, is that Sylvain hadn't known he'd be called away before the sun had even risen (which fucking sucks any time it happens, but especially now) let alone kept out for so damn long. Felix is probably awake by now--has probably been awake, because Felix always has been an early riser--which is a thought that makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything else for two very different, yet related reasons.

The first... is that Sylvain is a very, very simple man, who loves Felix very, very much. And, since free time at a time like this is a luxury, he knows he would be dying to go back to him regardless. But right now...? Right now, he can't help but wonder what Felix is doing while he's gone--and oh, if that isn't objectively the worst thing to think about when he's trying to focus on absolutely anything, because it quickly devolves from what Felix might be doing, into what Felix could be doing. Like, is Felix more than likely attempting to 1. Distract himself (by training), or 2. Wait it out (by being stubborn)? Sure, because that's just like him.

But on the same token... wouldn't it be such a novelty if Felix was doing something decidedly un-Felix-like...? If, while Sylvain was stuck there, he was lying back in his bed and wishing desperately for him to return, flushed and panting out his name against the covers while he works himself open with one hand and strokes himself with the other... if he were too impatient to wait, but too far gone for just the thought of him to be enough, until finally Sylvain would get back and--

--And he's not even the one in heat? He's just Like This. His imagination is a dangerous and distracting thing. But anyway: the second reason is that Felix needs him... in multiple senses of the word, perhaps, but what it really boils down to is that Felix needs him and he isn't there... He hates that he's not there, hates that every second not spent by his side is another second lost. Wasted. Who knows how precious many they have left, when everything they've worked for could still slip between their fingers?

He'd been eyeing for an escape since he'd gotten there, and in the end he's pretty sure the reason he's finally dismissed isn't really because their group has enough hands to handle the rest without him, as the professor says, but rather that they've always had an uncanny way of knowing when he's trying to sneak off. It almost prompts him to explain himself--like, he's sure they would understand?? They couldn't fault him, he thinks, because they have to know how important Felix is to him by now... and if they knew what Felix was like during his heats--

...

...Wow! Has he ever had to physically stop walking because of a thought before! Because hey, he sure fucking hates that.

Does it have literally any sort of basis behind it? ...No. Of course it doesn't... He knows they haven't done a single thing to deserve this flash of loathing, just like he knows there's absolutely no reason for the growl he can feel building low in his chest...

...And yet.

......Well, he supposes there's no reason for him not to quicken his step, anyway--and soon enough he's opening the door to his old dorm just a little too quickly (which is stupid, he thinks, because he knows Felix better than that, and also because unless Byleth had some magical way of teleporting from place to place around the monastery, they would have had to pass him on their way over... plus, he's pretty sure the last conversation between Felix and the professor had been something about swords that would make for some pretty fucking terrible innuendo?) to find--

--those eyes, on him in an instant, and if that look doesn't have his own ears pinning back quick enough, that tone certainly does.

"I had to, kitten," he says as the door closes, voice quiet and caught somewhere between reassurance and apology. He's vaguely conscious of the slow, hesitant wag of his own tail held low behind him. "I had to... I came back as soon as I could."

He pauses just long enough to leave his boots at the door before he moves for the bed, eyes flickering back to where Felix is perched upon it--and then he pauses again, once he more properly registers what's in front of him... or rather what Felix is wearing. His tail slows to a stop mid-wag at about the same time his ears twitch forward with obvious interest, only to lift itself into higher, wider sweeps at the same slow speed a beat later as he closes the rest of the distance between them.

He breathes a quiet 'Oh,' and settles on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up underneath him as he reaches out to try and guide Felix closer to him. The bed itself is decidedly Not Big, but you know what? It works well enough for this.

"Just look at you..." Thank you, Goddess, for this Entire Meal in front of him?? Forget any of the fantasies he'd entertained earlier, because he'd been a blind fucking fool for not even thinking to imagine Felix wearing one of his shirts. It is a very good look on him, and Sylvain will absolutely duck to kiss along Felix's exposed shoulder with a quiet, but dramatically pained groan. "You don't have any idea how hot you look, do you?"

Sorry, heat who? Sylvain's the one who's gonna die, and Felix is going to kill him.

we're going full-blown catholic guilt, huh

[brothered]

[Felix is owed a true apology, he thinks. Left alone for so many hours, driven so desperate that he aches—oh, Sylvain owes him an apology and then some, but... ah, well. Simply seeing Sylvain is enough to send his pulse racing, but hearing that nickname—kitten—spoken so softly, so sweetly...

...Listen: Felix has complained about it many a time, but as Sylvain is smart enough—knows Felix well enough—to only use it during their more, ah, intimate moments, hearing it triggers a sort of Pavlovian reaction? Sends Felix's pulse spiking, both aware of and eager for whatever is to come, because it's easy to be annoyed with Sylvain; it's so, so difficult to stay annoyed with him, as evidenced by the way his ears straighten back up as he watches Sylvain approach.

And then watches Sylvain, you know. Stop and stare, which would be frustrating on a good day; now it's all but impossible, prompting Felix's tail to continue thrashing about the bed as he resists the very real urge to, like, hold out his arms and beg Sylvain to come to him. He's too proud for such a thing—and Sylvain comes to him soon, anyway. Reaches out to pull him closer, Felix all but falls forward, his body eager to comply with whatever Sylvain asks of it. Instinct and lust. One, ah, more noticeable than the other, when Sylvain's lips first press against bare skin and Felix, quietly controlled Felix, doesn't even bother to muffle his gasp. He'd given no thought to how he'd look in the shirt, so while hearing that Sylvain is, as always, attracted to him is quite nice:]

Mm... smelled like you, [is the not-quite-a-sentence he mumbles as he tilts his head to the side, hopefully allowing Sylvain easier access to this vulnerable part of him while his fingers curl into the fabric of the similar shirt Sylvain is wearing. Amazing, how well it fits him.] I wanted you, but you left.

[He's repeating himself, a thing he normally hates; he's whining petulantly, like a child, which is another thing he normally hates—and, to top it all off, he feels that familiar burning sensation in his eyes? Tears are coming. No, tears are there, and while he can squeeze his eyes shut as tightly as possible, it isn't enough to make them disappear. He'd been so pathetically lonely? And now he's pathetically needy, Goddess help him... he can't help but to try and pull Sylvain in even closer...]

Idk why it's so funny but ig this is our life now

[bethotted]

Sylvain would be attracted to Felix if all he had on was a pair of dirty old gym socks, let's just be honest with ourselves here. The shirt is just a bonus.

Anyway: that gasp, as with any of Felix's noises, is its own brand of addicting. Sylvain loves when he lets himself be heard like this--it's fun when he has to really earn them, too, but there's something to be said for these moments in which the man's guard is down from the very start. When Felix feels he can entrust himself completely to him, only him, giving his reactions freely and willingly, offering nothing but eager responses to every word and every touch.

So it's easy to busy himself for the moment, letting his arms encircle Felix's waist while he kisses a slow trail up along the side of Felix's newly bared throat, but they're still light, just like his tone stays the same when he replies so quickly their voices practically overlap:

"I know," he murmurs, and it comes out somewhat muffled against his skin. His arms tighten around him for just a moment before his hands slide up; when he finally lifts his head he brings those hands to cradle either side of Felix's face and leans in to kiss one cheek, "I'm sorry," and then the other, "I know," as if his words and kisses alone can make up for his too-long absence.

It kind of breaks his heart to see Felix cry like this, just like it always has, but he stays steady all the same, just like he always has. It's not as if this is a side of Felix he's ever minded? Gentle and needy and clingy, all exceedingly rare traits nowadays and brought on largely by times like these--but whatever the reason for it, Sylvain will always, always be there for him when he needs it without a single complaint, as soon as he posibly can. So, when he leans their foreheads together and shushes him, it's clearly not for the sake of quiet.

"I'm here now." He doesn't dare let go of him, but he does brush one hand up and through Felix's hair, combing through the mess of it with care. "I won't leave you, I'm here."

Can he decide that...? Like, given what they know is yet to come--given their respective futures, provided they win--can Sylvain honestly say that he'll be there with him, always... Maybe? Probably not, more than likely, and yet he says it so surely it's like a promise in itself, sealed with one more kiss, this time to his lips.

"Let me make it up to you?" It's an offer--not that it's especially needed, but it's still worth asking, even if it's just so Felix knows he means it.