[Felix knows—knows—that Sylvain is smiling at him; he feels it in his very bones, thank you, which is why he stubbornly remains facing forward until the ride comes to a complete and total stop. It works out for him, in a way. Without Sylvain to focus on, he's free to wonder how this thing works... free to listen to the nearby children laugh, because hey, he doesn't dislike children...
But all good(ish) things must come to an end—and for Felix, that means carefully sliding off this cock? Wobbling on his own two legs, just for a moment, before following the crowd of kids toward the exit, because of course Sylvain is already waiting for him, the dastard. Felix graces him with a scowl as he approaches.
And of course Sylvain graces him with that.
There are several things Felix could do, in theory? Several ways to respond, but Felix settles for the simplest course of action: brushing right past Sylvain without a word. Heading out into this wide, wide world without his best friend, because his face is red enough as it is and Sylvain does not deserve the satisfaction. Time to go look at... carnival games, it seems...]
[ listen, there's a lot of things he could have said instead? like, he could have totally commented on felix's unsteadiness after sliding off the cock, but he didn't because he is capable of self-restraint from time to time. it also means that felix turning around and leaving him behind is completely justified and kind of expected, really. ]
... Felix? Wait, he's really leaving me behind, isn't he? Damn— Hey, Felix! Come on, I was joking! It was a joke!
[ he was so cute with how red he was blushing, how could he not tease him a little more?? truly, to keep it in would be crime. anyway, he catches up to felix without difficulty and slings an arm around his shoulders as he apologizes, because he really didn't mean to drive him off, okay. ]
Here, let me make it up to you. [ he scans the row of games they have set up, most of them boasting prizes of stuffed animals and the like, things he knows felix wouldn't really care for. there is, however, a booth that has scripts for prizes instead, ones that can be redeemed at the food stalls afterwards. ] Since I made you try that drink earlier, I'll get you one of those hot dog things, okay?
[Sylvain has longer legs, it's true, but Felix could easily outpace him if he so chooses? Felix could cut to the side, or duck around a corner—but no, no. Felix hears Sylvain calling out to him, and while Felix doesn't slow down, Felix doesn't speed up. Let it be known that Felix Hugo Fraldarius allows himself to be caught.
But as Sylvain's arm settles atop his shoulders, as heavy as ever, Felix makes sure to shoot him a flat look. He's not mad; his face is now more pink than red, so, like, things are looking up! And yet this just how it has to be.]
I don't want it. [What is it? Sounds gross as hell—but as Felix casts a quick glance over at said games, which are of the "throw a dart at this wall of balloons" variety:] Not that it matters. You have terrible aim.
[And Sylvain doesn't have anything to make up for, really? The day Sylvain stops teasing Felix is the day the world ends, and Felix has (grudgingly) accepted this—but like hell he's going to say it.]
[ felix has always been faster than him, and sylvain isn't so stupid to think that he got lucky this time. he remembers the days when they were kids and all they did was play hide and seek and tag, chasing each other all over the gardens of the fraldarius estate while dimitri and ingrid vied for glenn's attention. felix was always just out of his reach whenever sylvain thought he finally caught him, darting around him before he could get his hands on that fluffy coat he always wore. and though he'd hit his growth spurt just before arriving at the academy, felix was still quick and lithe and limber like he always was. he's dependable like that, cute blush and all. ]
Yes, you do. [ like he's completely, one hundred percent positive. ] It's like those hot pockets you're so fond of, except it's sausage in a bun.
[ bread and meat, felix's two main food groups. anyway, the jab to his aim gets a small huff, too fond and amused for it to be anything serious as he steers felix in the direction of those games. ]
Oh, ye of little faith. [ the ensuing wink he flashes felix is as sly as his grin. ] My aim's good when it counts.
[You like one (1) type of hot pocket and you're just The Hot Pocket Guy™, huh? Felix sees how it is—and yet Felix is also, mmm, mildly intrigued by that explanation, because he is fond of both that one (1) type of hot pocket and, you know. Sausages. Meat is meat is meat, even if you have no idea where said meat comes from.
But while Felix is, in fact, coming around to this idea... oh, Sylvain. Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain.]
I've seen you with a bow. [Felix lifts his chin a bit, letting that sink in before he turns to the sleepy looking person manning the booth.] There's a reason I don't take you hunting.
[And that reason is Sylvain has probably preferred to do anything but silently traipse about the woods for hours at a time, but shh. Time for Felix to hand over more money in return for some darts, which he places on the counter in front of Sylvain. Five darts!]
Five tries. [And is that a hint of a smirk, there? A clear challenge as Felix crosses his arms? Oh, you know it.] More than enough to see how good you are.
[ felix is The Hot Pocket Guy™ just like sylvain is The Horse Boy™, okay, that's just how it is. and sylvain knows that felix is intrigued because he knows how much felix likes his meat, which is like, just as much, if not more than ingrid does. ]
So you were watching me when I was training with Ashe. [ back when their professor had thought it might be good for him to train with bows as he was working through his cavalier class. and really, it wasn't a complete disaster, but he just never had the patience for it. it wasn't as compatible with his self-destructive tendencies at the time; it's harder to be reckless and impulsive when he actually has to pay attention to his aim. ] I thought the reason why you don't take me is because I talk too much.
[ and like, he'd much rather sleep in instead, but whatever. anyway, felix grabs the darts before sylvain can think about paying and well, now he's done it. the challenge is set and he can't back down now, can he? not when felix is smirking at him like that. ]
Five? That's generous of you.
[ throwing darts at balloons is different from firing arrows at enemy soldiers and fellow countrymen; less complicated and less permanent, less consequences in the aftermath for him to carry. he thinks back to that warm summer afternoon at the training grounds, ashe showing him the proper stance, his palms pressing carefully on his arms and shoulders to keep them level. don't be too tense—relax your grip as you pull back, let the momentum flow through your shoulder to your arm and to your fingers. smooth, easy. even if war makes it infinitely harder.
now, he breathes in slowly, the dart held carefully between his thumb and index finger. he takes his time because he can, because yeah, maybe he's doing this to impress felix even if he doesn't really need to. it's not that deep, even if the nostalgia hits that soft part in his chest that he hasn't done a very good job of protecting lately.
the dart leaves his grip in a fluid roll of his shoulder and pops the balloon to the right of the one in the center, the one he'd been going for at first. but he'll take it, anyway. ]
[Generous, indeed—except that it absolutely isn't, hence Felix's small shrug as he angles himself toward Sylvain, propping his hip against the booth in the process.]
Obviously, [he says, tone artfully unconcerned.] I'm always nice to you.
[That earlier line from the coffee shop, its sardonic edge somewhat softened by the way Felix's eyes find Sylvain's arm? The way he absently traces it from wrist to shoulder, presumably taking in Sylvain's stance even when he knows damn well there's no reason to appreciate the way the muscles of Sylvain's shoulder bunch as he pulls his arm back. It reminds Felix of watching Sylvain's bare back before he disappeared into the bathroom, and that's—
—well. The pop of a balloon bursting off to the side pulls Felix back to his senses, and he turns his head just far enough to see the dart stuck in the board. Not bad, really? Even when the person running the booth informs them Sylvain has scored all of one (1) point, which elicits a quiet hum from Felix as he glances back Sylvain's way.]
Beginner's luck.
[He doesn't even believe in luck; he's just being a little shit, because this is what best friends do—and because fuck you, Gautier, this is what you for cracking jokes about The Cock.]
[ it's not bad, but it's not good, either. he tilts a wry smile at felix when the staff congratulates him on his single point; the perfectionist in sylvain bristles just a little, but it's tempered by that quiet hum from felix, the appraising look sylvain had caught when felix thought he wasn't looking. felix doesn't believe in luck and neither does sylvain, and so he sees it for what it is: felix being his bratty self again, needling and negging him in the same way sylvain teases him mercilessly. does he deserve it? probably. does he have regrets at all about cracking jokes about The Cock? no. is he going to continue to do so throughout this not-date? absolutely.
but okay, he has four left. the second turns out to be a bust, he misjudges the trajectory and the dart buries itself into the frame of the cork board the balloons are affixed to. there's a furrow between his brows now as he runs the tip of his thumb along his lower lip, a habit he'd picked up during their academy days whenever he had to puzzle through a particularly complicated magic formula. the third one goes better, popping the balloon above the one in the center to earn him two points; the fourth hits the one to the left.
he rolls the final dart between his thumb and index finger, head cocked gently to one side as his other thumb returns to its previous spot, the blunt nail trailing along the swell of his lower lip. all of his attention is on the balloon in the center now as he shifts his weight, changes his stance just slightly before throwing the last dart, finally meeting its home in the center balloon. the attendant gives him his final score in the blandest tone, sliding his winnings across the booth towards him. ]
So, [ he tucks the scripts into his back pocket, settling his hand on felix's shoulder as he points to the hot dog stand further down. ] Wanna try it?
i can keep making this thread as thirsty as i please
[It's dangerous, watching Sylvain. Distracting. Felix isn't even the one who needs to concentrate, but Sylvain brings his thumb to his lip for a second time and Felix snaps his attention back to that wall of balloons, feeling something tighten within him for no particular reason. He knows that simple gesture; he's seen it many a time before, be it in the middle of class or in the middle of a war council meeting, and yet there's something so... well, there's just something about it, these days. Something that makes Felix wonder what Sylvain's lip would feel like beneath his thumb.
Which is, you know. Patently ridiculous, hence the way Felix presses his own lips together as he waits for Sylvain's final throw. It's no surprise that he nails it; Sylvain has made a habit of coming through at the perfect time, a thing that frequently frustrates Felix—but that he's fine with, in this context. There was nothing on the line but money Felix never uses.
...Still, though. Still. Some not-so-small part of Felix is annoying relieved when they finally turn to walk away from the booth, Sylvain's hand settling atop his shoulder like it belongs there. And maybe it does, in a way? He certainly doesn't shrug it away, even when he finds himself turning his head to glance down at it, eyes drawn to that thumb.]
It's your victory, [he says, somewhat curtly, before his eyes flick back up to Sylvain's face.] Shouldn't you decide?
[They're heading right to it, anyway—and listen? Listen. Maybe the smell wafting their way as they near it is pretty good. Maybe it is. That doesn't mean that Felix is going to say as much, even as he eyes the hotdog-carrying people around them with obvious interest. Sausage in a bun... yeehaw...]
I suppose I should be grateful it isn't something sweet.
I mean, yeah. [ he gives felix's shoulder a light squeeze as they make their way to the stand, brushing the pad of his thumb along the curve of it. ] But maybe I want you to enjoy it, too.
[ like okay, yes, he has a habit of pushing things onto felix sometimes just for fun, but let it be known that if felix really doesn't want it, he'd stop immediately. and that's the thing, isn't it? how felix has never really stopped him, despite all his griping and complaining. in the end, he indulges sylvain anyway, and that's always been dangerous, but it's become even more so lately. he tries not to think about it too much, because he knows deep down what the answer is, and it's both equally terrifying and everything he's ever wanted.
but anyway, hot dogs. he glances down at felix as he eyes the people around them eating their own hot dogs, a knowing smile curving his lips. and he could make another awful joke here too, about his preference for salty things, but he will be the mature adult he is this time and refrain. mostly because he really does want felix to try it, okay. ]
Goddess forbid I feed you more than one sweet thing within the same day. [ he says drily as he steps up to the counter, ordering two hot dogs and sliding the scripts over. ] Absolute torture, and I'm awful for subjecting you to it.
[Sarcasm is an easy thing for Felix to parse, at least? Or, well. This brand of sarcasm. It's overt—and what would earn others a scathing look earns Sylvain a mild one, because this is their friendship at its best, really: Sylvain poking Felix, and Felix poking right back. Felix letting down some of those walls he's spent years building, because Sylvain, for whatever reason, is his best friend.]
I don't insist that you eat anything with spice, [he grumbles back, watching the person behind the counter throw their order together.] Everyone has their own tastes.
[So bite him. But anyway, speaking of Spicy Things: when Felix is given his hot dog, and when he's sort of, like, waved over to the toppings bar... ah. Well. He is definitely a plain meat-and-bread kind of guy, but that sure is a bottle labeled SPICY brown mustard. SPICY. Mustard is a mystery, but who is Felix Hugo Fraldarius to deny the siren call of spice?
AKA: Sylvain, join him. Come watch him squeeze half the bottle on his poor fuckin' hot dog.]
No, but you bully me for it instead so that kind of amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?
[ how many times has felix judged him for not adding copious amounts of spice to everything he eats? it's not that sylvain hates spicy food, he just would like to be able to actually taste the individual flavors instead of just wanting to die, thanks. anyway, they're at the condiments table and since sylvain is sensible and not a heathen, he reaches for the ketchup and relish bottles instead and leaves felix to his fate of SPICY brown mustard. ]
... Felix. [ actually, that's a very worrying amount of mustard. can you even see the sausage beneath all that mustard?? ] You're drowning it.
[Bullying? So dramatic. Felix gives Sylvain just as much shit as Sylvain gives him, which is, you know. A lot. There's a reason Ingrid gives them as many lectures as she does—and it's a shame that Ingrid isn't right here, right now, because as Felix pauses mid-bottle squeeze, just to look up at his friend? Oh, Sylvain.]
Worry about your food.
[Because Felix, you see, still remembers The Cock. Felix is going to remember The Cock all damn day, and thus Felix makes a point to hold Sylvain's gaze as he leans over—and squirts some spicy brown mustard on Sylvain's poor, defenseless hot dog. Bon appétit!]
[ see, this is what he means! bullying!! sylvain actually sputters a little, pulling his hot dog away too late, and stares down forlornly at it once the damage is done and irreparable. look at his hot dog, completely ruined now and covered with spicy brown mustard. ]
What was that about not insisting I eat anything with spice, huh?
[ ugh, this is awful but he can't toss it, he won this for them and wasting food is unthinkable. but is he gonna complain about it? yes. is he gonna pout while he lifts the hot dog and considers taking a bite? absolutely. the face he makes once he does is as pathetic as a kicked puppy, and it could be worse, yes, but he's going to be a baby about it and no one can stop him. ]
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But all good(ish) things must come to an end—and for Felix, that means carefully sliding off this cock? Wobbling on his own two legs, just for a moment, before following the crowd of kids toward the exit, because of course Sylvain is already waiting for him, the dastard. Felix graces him with a scowl as he approaches.
And of course Sylvain graces him with that.
There are several things Felix could do, in theory? Several ways to respond, but Felix settles for the simplest course of action: brushing right past Sylvain without a word. Heading out into this wide, wide world without his best friend, because his face is red enough as it is and Sylvain does not deserve the satisfaction. Time to go look at... carnival games, it seems...]
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... Felix? Wait, he's really leaving me behind, isn't he? Damn— Hey, Felix! Come on, I was joking! It was a joke!
[ he was so cute with how red he was blushing, how could he not tease him a little more?? truly, to keep it in would be crime. anyway, he catches up to felix without difficulty and slings an arm around his shoulders as he apologizes, because he really didn't mean to drive him off, okay. ]
Here, let me make it up to you. [ he scans the row of games they have set up, most of them boasting prizes of stuffed animals and the like, things he knows felix wouldn't really care for. there is, however, a booth that has scripts for prizes instead, ones that can be redeemed at the food stalls afterwards. ] Since I made you try that drink earlier, I'll get you one of those hot dog things, okay?
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But as Sylvain's arm settles atop his shoulders, as heavy as ever, Felix makes sure to shoot him a flat look. He's not mad; his face is now more pink than red, so, like, things are looking up! And yet this just how it has to be.]
I don't want it. [What is it? Sounds gross as hell—but as Felix casts a quick glance over at said games, which are of the "throw a dart at this wall of balloons" variety:] Not that it matters. You have terrible aim.
[And Sylvain doesn't have anything to make up for, really? The day Sylvain stops teasing Felix is the day the world ends, and Felix has (grudgingly) accepted this—but like hell he's going to say it.]
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Yes, you do. [ like he's completely, one hundred percent positive. ] It's like those hot pockets you're so fond of, except it's sausage in a bun.
[ bread and meat, felix's two main food groups. anyway, the jab to his aim gets a small huff, too fond and amused for it to be anything serious as he steers felix in the direction of those games. ]
Oh, ye of little faith. [ the ensuing wink he flashes felix is as sly as his grin. ] My aim's good when it counts.
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But while Felix is, in fact, coming around to this idea... oh, Sylvain. Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain.]
I've seen you with a bow. [Felix lifts his chin a bit, letting that sink in before he turns to the sleepy looking person manning the booth.] There's a reason I don't take you hunting.
[And that reason is Sylvain has probably preferred to do anything but silently traipse about the woods for hours at a time, but shh. Time for Felix to hand over more money in return for some darts, which he places on the counter in front of Sylvain. Five darts!]
Five tries. [And is that a hint of a smirk, there? A clear challenge as Felix crosses his arms? Oh, you know it.] More than enough to see how good you are.
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So you were watching me when I was training with Ashe. [ back when their professor had thought it might be good for him to train with bows as he was working through his cavalier class. and really, it wasn't a complete disaster, but he just never had the patience for it. it wasn't as compatible with his self-destructive tendencies at the time; it's harder to be reckless and impulsive when he actually has to pay attention to his aim. ] I thought the reason why you don't take me is because I talk too much.
[ and like, he'd much rather sleep in instead, but whatever. anyway, felix grabs the darts before sylvain can think about paying and well, now he's done it. the challenge is set and he can't back down now, can he? not when felix is smirking at him like that. ]
Five? That's generous of you.
[ throwing darts at balloons is different from firing arrows at enemy soldiers and fellow countrymen; less complicated and less permanent, less consequences in the aftermath for him to carry. he thinks back to that warm summer afternoon at the training grounds, ashe showing him the proper stance, his palms pressing carefully on his arms and shoulders to keep them level. don't be too tense—relax your grip as you pull back, let the momentum flow through your shoulder to your arm and to your fingers. smooth, easy. even if war makes it infinitely harder.
now, he breathes in slowly, the dart held carefully between his thumb and index finger. he takes his time because he can, because yeah, maybe he's doing this to impress felix even if he doesn't really need to. it's not that deep, even if the nostalgia hits that soft part in his chest that he hasn't done a very good job of protecting lately.
the dart leaves his grip in a fluid roll of his shoulder and pops the balloon to the right of the one in the center, the one he'd been going for at first. but he'll take it, anyway. ]
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Obviously, [he says, tone artfully unconcerned.] I'm always nice to you.
[That earlier line from the coffee shop, its sardonic edge somewhat softened by the way Felix's eyes find Sylvain's arm? The way he absently traces it from wrist to shoulder, presumably taking in Sylvain's stance even when he knows damn well there's no reason to appreciate the way the muscles of Sylvain's shoulder bunch as he pulls his arm back. It reminds Felix of watching Sylvain's bare back before he disappeared into the bathroom, and that's—
—well. The pop of a balloon bursting off to the side pulls Felix back to his senses, and he turns his head just far enough to see the dart stuck in the board. Not bad, really? Even when the person running the booth informs them Sylvain has scored all of one (1) point, which elicits a quiet hum from Felix as he glances back Sylvain's way.]
Beginner's luck.
[He doesn't even believe in luck; he's just being a little shit, because this is what best friends do—and because fuck you, Gautier, this is what you for cracking jokes about The Cock.]
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but okay, he has four left. the second turns out to be a bust, he misjudges the trajectory and the dart buries itself into the frame of the cork board the balloons are affixed to. there's a furrow between his brows now as he runs the tip of his thumb along his lower lip, a habit he'd picked up during their academy days whenever he had to puzzle through a particularly complicated magic formula. the third one goes better, popping the balloon above the one in the center to earn him two points; the fourth hits the one to the left.
he rolls the final dart between his thumb and index finger, head cocked gently to one side as his other thumb returns to its previous spot, the blunt nail trailing along the swell of his lower lip. all of his attention is on the balloon in the center now as he shifts his weight, changes his stance just slightly before throwing the last dart, finally meeting its home in the center balloon. the attendant gives him his final score in the blandest tone, sliding his winnings across the booth towards him. ]
So, [ he tucks the scripts into his back pocket, settling his hand on felix's shoulder as he points to the hot dog stand further down. ] Wanna try it?
i can keep making this thread as thirsty as i please
Which is, you know. Patently ridiculous, hence the way Felix presses his own lips together as he waits for Sylvain's final throw. It's no surprise that he nails it; Sylvain has made a habit of coming through at the perfect time, a thing that frequently frustrates Felix—but that he's fine with, in this context. There was nothing on the line but money Felix never uses.
...Still, though. Still. Some not-so-small part of Felix is annoying relieved when they finally turn to walk away from the booth, Sylvain's hand settling atop his shoulder like it belongs there. And maybe it does, in a way? He certainly doesn't shrug it away, even when he finds himself turning his head to glance down at it, eyes drawn to that thumb.]
It's your victory, [he says, somewhat curtly, before his eyes flick back up to Sylvain's face.] Shouldn't you decide?
[They're heading right to it, anyway—and listen? Listen. Maybe the smell wafting their way as they near it is pretty good. Maybe it is. That doesn't mean that Felix is going to say as much, even as he eyes the hotdog-carrying people around them with obvious interest. Sausage in a bun... yeehaw...]
I suppose I should be grateful it isn't something sweet.
it's what we deserve
[ like okay, yes, he has a habit of pushing things onto felix sometimes just for fun, but let it be known that if felix really doesn't want it, he'd stop immediately. and that's the thing, isn't it? how felix has never really stopped him, despite all his griping and complaining. in the end, he indulges sylvain anyway, and that's always been dangerous, but it's become even more so lately. he tries not to think about it too much, because he knows deep down what the answer is, and it's both equally terrifying and everything he's ever wanted.
but anyway, hot dogs. he glances down at felix as he eyes the people around them eating their own hot dogs, a knowing smile curving his lips. and he could make another awful joke here too, about his preference for salty things, but he will be the mature adult he is this time and refrain. mostly because he really does want felix to try it, okay. ]
Goddess forbid I feed you more than one sweet thing within the same day. [ he says drily as he steps up to the counter, ordering two hot dogs and sliding the scripts over. ] Absolute torture, and I'm awful for subjecting you to it.
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I don't insist that you eat anything with spice, [he grumbles back, watching the person behind the counter throw their order together.] Everyone has their own tastes.
[So bite him. But anyway, speaking of Spicy Things: when Felix is given his hot dog, and when he's sort of, like, waved over to the toppings bar... ah. Well. He is definitely a plain meat-and-bread kind of guy, but that sure is a bottle labeled SPICY brown mustard. SPICY. Mustard is a mystery, but who is Felix Hugo Fraldarius to deny the siren call of spice?
AKA: Sylvain, join him. Come watch him squeeze half the bottle on his poor fuckin' hot dog.]
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[ how many times has felix judged him for not adding copious amounts of spice to everything he eats? it's not that sylvain hates spicy food, he just would like to be able to actually taste the individual flavors instead of just wanting to die, thanks. anyway, they're at the condiments table and since sylvain is sensible and not a heathen, he reaches for the ketchup and relish bottles instead and leaves felix to his fate of SPICY brown mustard. ]
... Felix. [ actually, that's a very worrying amount of mustard. can you even see the sausage beneath all that mustard?? ] You're drowning it.
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Worry about your food.
[Because Felix, you see, still remembers The Cock. Felix is going to remember The Cock all damn day, and thus Felix makes a point to hold Sylvain's gaze as he leans over—and squirts some spicy brown mustard on Sylvain's poor, defenseless hot dog. Bon appétit!]
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[ see, this is what he means! bullying!! sylvain actually sputters a little, pulling his hot dog away too late, and stares down forlornly at it once the damage is done and irreparable. look at his hot dog, completely ruined now and covered with spicy brown mustard. ]
What was that about not insisting I eat anything with spice, huh?
[ ugh, this is awful but he can't toss it, he won this for them and wasting food is unthinkable. but is he gonna complain about it? yes. is he gonna pout while he lifts the hot dog and considers taking a bite? absolutely. the face he makes once he does is as pathetic as a kicked puppy, and it could be worse, yes, but he's going to be a baby about it and no one can stop him. ]