[ he's trying not to laugh. he really is, swear to the goddess and everything. but he's also not trying too particularly hard especially when felix goes over to pet those ears, and the puppy cannot decide if it is satisfied with this renewed attempt at affection or if it should continue its quest for the fingers. in the end, he ends up licking sylvain instead while nudging up against felix's fingers, so. compromise.
dimitri has just the right amount of gravitas to make this official tbh and sylvain is here for it. he's also here for how, despite his observation that he's just "a dog", he also hasn't said anything at all about not wanting to keep him, so that's another win that makes him way too pleased. enough to resist teasing felix about "jim" further and to instead offer: ]
[Jim Gautier-Fraldarius is a fine name, thanks. Appreciate Felix's genius—or just, you know. Offer up a better name, which is definitely what Felix is waiting on—what he was counting on, truth be told—as he bites back any and all scathing comments. You go, dog-that-is-not-Jim... fuck Sylvain's face up...]
Quite the name.
[For a dog they know nothing about, especially, because his dog could be every bit as Stupide as Sylvain. Felix doesn't think so; like, maybe he's already a little biased, and he's definitely loath to say as much, but the dog has a sort of, ah, intelligent air. He's worthy of Felix's attention; he might be worthy of the name belonging to the best smith in all of Fódlan.
Or: Felix is already somewhat fond of Zoltan. Duh. Felix is also fond of that name, hence the way his expression momentarily brightens for the second time as he gives this a few seconds' thought—and it's gross, how soft he feels. Sylvain picking a name he knows Felix will like means more to Felix than it has any right to.]
I know what you're trying to do, and you're wasting your time. I don't... dislike him. [And as Sylvain speaks fluent Felix, Sylvain knows the weight of such a thing. But anyway, as Felix finally pulls his hands away, giving Sylvain an assessing sort of glance in the process:] Whatever you choose to call him won't change that.
[So don't feel like... you have to pick a Felix-brand name, Sylvain? Even though Felix might just have to (grudgingly) admit that Zoltan is... good.]
but really, the truth is that if felix really wanted, they could stick with jim gautier-fraldarius and sylvain would be completely okay with it even if he would tease him about it for as long as they're here. but he knows what felix likes and, you know, maybe he just likes picking things that would make him happy. a wild concept, or something he's just used to doing. a little bit of both perhaps, in this case, but he sees the way felix's expression lights up and he knows it was worth it. ]
Hey, now. Maybe I just thought that would be a good name for him, you know? What do you think, my guy? [ he asks the puppy, shifting him around in his arms so that his tummy is exposed and giving him some belly rubs. ] Zoltan Jim Fraldarius-Gautier.
[ the puppy yips once and reaches up to paw at felix's wrist. please sir, may he have some belly rubs from you, too. sylvain looks back to felix and shrugs, still looking pleased. ]
[Felix has lowered his guard, in a sense. It's remarkably difficult to be prickly when faced with the one-two punch that is Sylvain holding a puppy—so Felix is, ah, wholly unprepared for Sylvain attacking him like this. Attacking him, because "Fraldarius-Gautier" hits him as heavily as any blow he's ever taken in a spar? Sends his back straightening as he blinks, because it's... ah, what is it. There's something about the easy with which Sylvain says it, really. It's like Sylvain took the thought that crossed Felix's mind only a few moments before—the strangely pleasing notion that something could be theirs—and gave it actual weight.
Oh, and that's dumb, Felix knows. So dumb, because it was a joke, like calling this dog their "child" is a joke, and Felix is—well. He feels the fool, in a way? Feels that telltale warmth creep up the back of his neck, but he pushes past it, shooting Sylvain a frown even as he does, in fact, reach out to carefully scritch Zoltan's stomach. Zoltan hasn't done anything wrong.]
You're ridiculous, [he all but snaps, even if it's, mmm, more mulish than heated.] This is a dog. Your dog, Sylvain. I'm not repeating myself.
[It's not nice to tease people, Sylvain. Let alone Felix, because that's what this really does feel like: a tease. The start of some big joke, and as Felix has never been very good with those, Felix focuses on the puppy wriggling in Sylvain's arms, tongue lolling happily.]
He only needs one name: Zoltan.
[As in, that's it? That's all? No Jim, and certainly no hyphenated last name, Goddess above, what if someone in this world hears it. He's too focused on that to consider that he did, in fact, name the dog in the end. Played right into Sylvain's hands, huh...]
[ he was the one who said it and it's still ringing in his head. fraldarius-gautier. he didn't even think about switching it to gautier-fraldarius, it came out like that and it just felt... it felt right, it felt easy, like everything else lately, and it's so dangerous how he keeps thinking about it. because he thinks about them going home, about the possibility of merging gautier and fraldarius whenever he sorts out sreng, whenever his old man passes. sylvain has no love for his bloodline, but he owes it to his people that still remain, and that's the only thing that'd keep him from really considering moving into fraldarius castle entirely.
but it's nice to think about while he's here, and in a way this is as close as he's going to get; a taste of what it'd be like to actually have what he wants without questioning whether or not he deserves it. he still doesn't think he does, and maybe that's something that will take longer still to change, but right now as he watches felix reach out to rub zoltan's tummy (the puppy he has now named, all according to sylvain's plan), he wants to try. he wants to, more than anything. and maybe he can carry this home, whenever they find their way back, maybe he'll remember all of this and this feeling of something finally slotting into place. the feeling of finding something he'd never realized he'd lost or had been searching for this whole time. ]
I'm gonna ask you something, [ he says, after a moment, still watching those long fingers scritching at that soft belly. ] And you're probably going to think it sounds stupid, but just humor me, okay.
[ he should have asked earlier, he thinks. this whole time, he'd been operating under the assumption that felix was from his timeline—his felix, just as he is his sylvain. ]
[Thinking about their joined names is—Felix isn't going to allow himself to do such a thing, thank you. Why would he? It was a joke; focusing on it now is nothing more than an exercise in futility, so Felix is determined to keep his attention on Zoltan and Zoltan alone. He's the practical sort, after all. They've yet to discuss... anything this world; there's no reason to even consider where this, ah, whatever-it-is might go, whenever they return to Fódlan. Goddess knows they'll have plenty of other things to focus on.
So Felix should be grateful, in his Felix-y way, to hear Sylvain abruptly shift topics. He should be—but he knows Sylvain well enough to recognize that, when Sylvain feels the need to ask Felix to "humor him," what's coming next is either going to be very, very stupid, or very, very important; it's why his eyes immediately flick upward, holding Sylvain's gaze despite how uncomfortable it feels to do so. Ah. Well. That expression is...
...Hmm. Felix studies it for a moment, fingers stilling on Zoltan's stomach as he thinks back to his last moments in Fódlan. He knows what Sylvain is going for, now. It doesn't take a genius to figure out some wild shit is going on, given that Edelgard is very much alive—and there is, in fact, a stab of fear Felix feels? A shard of ice that slips between his ribs, though he's careful to keep it to himself, to keep his expression perfectly composed as he considers that this could potentially change... everything. So it goes.]
...Enbarr, [he begins, so slowly, so simply.] We were in Enbarr. Dimitri killed Edelgard, and we won the war.
[And there's more to it, of course. Their early morning ride to Enbarr's gates, during which Felix kept one eye on his men and the other eye on Sylvain, always Sylvain. The push into the city itself, sweeping street after street, cutting down familiar face after familiar face. The rich red interior of the Imperial Palace, a strangely fitting backdrop for the twisted creature that was once Edelgard. The tightness of Dimitri's expression as he emerged from the throne room, the preternaturally calm professor by his side.
And, later: the sounds of raucous cheering as Faerghan forces emptied the imperial wine cellar, taking their just desserts while Felix stalked down corridor after corridor.]
Everyone was celebrating, but I couldn't find you.
[ sylvain lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, closing his eyes briefly. there's relief there, mixed in with a myriad of other things, but more importantly, that feeling still lingers—his felix, his sylvain. there's a weight to it that's heavier than fraldarius-gautier that he'll likely end up thinking about later, when he's not holding an armful of still wriggling puppy and wanting to pull felix closer. ]
I went out, [ he says on a sigh, absentmindedly rubbing zoltan's ears with one hand, much to the puppy's delight. he's so small in his hands; he's still not over how tiny he is. ] I took a bottle and went outside, and I sat on the bridge.
[ he wasn't waiting for anyone or anything; the bottle was left untouched. he remembers watching the sun set over the city, lighting the buildings and carnage in fiery gold, and thought about still being alive at the end of it all. ]
I'd went back inside to find you, but I ended up here instead. Well, [ his smile turns wry, a little crooked tilt to his lips. ] I guess I kind of did find you in the end, huh?
[ so that's one down. one more to go. and this is the trickier one, because maybe it will change things, shift whatever it is between them into something else. he doesn't know; he doesn't have a plan for once, unable to really read how felix would react because this is a whole new chapter that none of them had studied before. a part of him thinks he should be more worried about it, and to some degree he is; the idea of losing felix, of hurting him enough to really push him away for good still looms over everything he's done and everything he may end up doing in the future. there's no reward without risk, and he'd willingly put their years of friendship on the line each time.
was it worth it in the end? is it still worth it? maybe it is, because try as he might, he still doesn't regret taking those thirty cocktail swords from the bar that night; he still doesn't regret kissing felix on the kitchen counter, and later on the couch. he doesn't regret letting felix pull him apart in the bathhouse, only to return the favor in their doorway later—he knows all the signs because he's seen it on the other side, and this time it's him. ]
... In another lifetime, I watched you die in the battle at Gronder. [ it's that little shove that keeps him going, spilling the rest of it out because while maybe some part of him had counted on dying at enbarr, the idea of not having this: the kitchen, the couch, the bathhouse and this puppy in his arms—it twists something in his chest. ] You fell and I lost it, and Hilda took me down.
[Felix is constantly expecting the worst, in a way? Some part of him is always just waiting to lose something, lose someone, because that's the way his life goes—so how strange, to listen to Sylvain's story line up so perfectly with his. How strange, to think that this, whatever it may be, might not be lost to him after all. He wasn't at all aware that he'd tensed while waiting for Sylvain to speak, but now he feels his shoulders drop, feels some vice within his chest loosen, slowly, as he considers Sylvain searching for him while he searched for Sylvain. Fitting, really. Bleakly humorous. Only they would lose themselves while hunting for the other—and only they would manage to find one another in a brand new world. The power of their promise.
Not that Felix is one to believe in such things. The true power of their promise is what it inspires? The determination to live, live, live, or else, and yet Felix watches Sylvain, takes in that somewhat bittersweet grin, and Felix thinks, Of course you found me. I found you, because I will always find you. Sylvain is a constant in his life; Sylvain is someone Felix genuinely wants by his side, for various reasons, but somewhere along the line, a want has become a sort of need. Who would he be without Sylvain...
...He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.
And maybe he never will know, given that Sylvain takes full advantage of his silence to continue right along. Felix doesn't fault him for it; Felix can't, even though it's somewhat cruel, following up something so good with something so bad. I watched you die.
That doesn't bother him, in the moment. Maybe it should, but Felix has spent the past five years on the front lines, forcing himself to become stronger while knowing that it might not be enough. He watched so many others fall; every time he approached an enemy, he was well aware of the risk, well aware that, if he did fall, it would be his fault for not being as strong as he needed to be. He accepted that? He accepts this.
Leaving Sylvain behind, however, is unacceptable, hence the furrow of his brow as that fact ("fact") sinks in. He remembers the many, many times he's fussed at Sylvain for being far too reckless, something he's sure he's done, will do, in every so-called "lifetime," and it's—that's such a layered thing. Scolding Sylvain is Felix telling Sylvain to live, is Felix reaffirming their promise in the most roundabout way, is Felix ordering Sylvain to live because Felix is swearing that he won't die.
But he did.
Apparently. Allegedly. And of course he wants to argue about it, given its supposed source, because Felix dying before Sylvain is a bitter, bitter pill—but he swallows it, somehow. Once again finds himself studying Sylvain, attempting to imagine Sylvain losing it after watching him fall, and there is the sudden thought that perhaps he is every much a constant in Sylvain's life as Sylvain is in his. Who would Sylvain be without him? A distinctly selfish thought that has a distinctly unfortunate answer...
How unfair, for Sylvain. How terribly unfair. Felix feels a sudden surge of anger directed at this long-dead version of himself, causing him to press his lips into a thin line, but it's hardly productive; better to keep the focus on Sylvain, in this moment. Better to keep his emotions in check, locked away as best he can, as he reaches for the first question that comes to mind:]
How long have you known?
[His tone is clipped. Cool. Oddly calm, despite his everything, because this isn't meant to be an accusation; this is merely Felix wondering how long Sylvain has carried this weighty burden. That's an easy something to take into account as Felix works on processing... all the rest.]
[ a promise is a promise, nothing more or less than that. it is not a guarantee, as much as they may have believed it to be when they were children, as much as they wanted it to be something more than words that could be easily broken. but it carried him throughout the years in spite of that—carried him through the academy and the war and everything else in between, and never once did sylvain entertain the possibility that felix would die before him. because sylvain is the one who disappoints between the two of them, the one who lets everyone down from the start—to expect anything of him is an exercise in futility; he does what he wants, this is who he is. but felix was always the one who made him want to listen, always the one who made him want to try: to be better, to stop making excuses for himself and everyone around him.
and yet, even now, knowing that there is another version of himself out there that watched felix fall, that wasn't there to protect him like he should have... it's a heavy weight. if he was stronger, if he was faster; if he had tried harder back then, maybe none of it would have happened. but it's fitting, in a way, that he had followed felix in the end because he knows himself, and he knows this to be true no matter the timeline or version of himself: he is nothing without felix.
he's been spoiled, he thinks. he's had the luxury of being by felix's side for most of his life and here in this new world; the alternative is just as hard to accept as hearing what became of them from hilda. ]
It's been a few days, give or take. [ zoltan has gone limp in his arms, dozing a little now that he isn't the center of attention anymore. sylvain sets him gently in his basket and takes one of felix's hands, loosely threading their fingers together. more to ground himself in this moment, to assure himself that they're still here. ] I ran into Hilda at the stables earlier. She started crying the second she saw me and I had a feeling something happened.
[ he wouldn't blame him if felix was upset. he looks up at him again, searching his gaze and feeling a little lighter after coming clean with it. ]
I know I should have told you sooner. I guess I just... needed time to process it, too. [ he rubs his thumb back and forth over felix's knuckles, squeezes his fingers briefly. ] But you're here and I'm here. Us dying in another lifetime doesn't change that. It doesn't mean I'm not going to keep our promise here either.
[Felix watches Sylvain place the puppy in its little basket with such care? Considers that there is a world—many worlds, perhaps—in which such a thing can never happen, and while this strikes at his very core, he's only just heard the news; Sylvain has apparently had days to digest it, to ponder it, and yes, Felix is angry. He is. It is, however, less about the fact that Sylvain hid something from him and more about the fact that Sylvain shouldered this alone. He didn't have to, because as Felix drops his gaze, tracks the fingers slipping so easily between his, it's—well, look at that. Look at this: yet another thing other versions of themselves will never do, but that they can do. There are so many things that they can do.
So yes, Sylvain is right: Felix is here, and Sylvain is here, and nothing will change that. They're together in this world; they'll be together when they return to theirs, and Felix huffs out a quiet breath, ignoring his twisting stomach. This news will linger with him for far too long, he's sure of it, but it hardly matters. Sylvain is what matters. This fool Felix loves.]
I know that.
[Because he is not that Felix. Because they are both here, which is why Felix brings his other hand up, fingers hooking into Sylvain's collar so that Felix can tug Sylvain down, can guide Sylvain's forehead to bump against his. Maybe it's stupid; it's certainly sentimental, but breathing the same air feels... comforting, in this moment. Reassuring, even as Felix fixes Sylvain with the sharpest look he can manage, given the angle.]
I don't need you to remind me, [he murmurs into that bit of space between them, so firm, so stubbornly cross.] I won't leave you, Sylvain. You're not alone.
[Which means more than the simple, obvious fact that so many friends are here. They are friends? Something more than friends, at this point, and thus Felix is here for him, will always be here for him, refuses to accept the idea of him suffering in silence for no reason at all.]
[ it's so sentimental, the way felix tugs him down to his height to press their brows together. it's certainly a much more tender display of affection that sylvain expects from him in this moment, but as always, he goes down easily to meet him without felix needing to put any force behind that tug. sylvain blinks at him for a moment, an odd warmth spreading up the back of his neck to his ears; something not quite embarrassed, but pleasantly surprised and pleased. sylvain has always been more tactile and more intimate between the two of them, the one to initiate the easy affection that's become more frequent lately. but while he doesn't expect it from felix, it's... it's nice to be on the receiving end. it's nice to be able to enjoy this and know that felix is giving this to him freely, because he wants to.
and only felix can look at him like that and sound like that while saying things like i won't leave you, and mean it completely and genuinely. his whole life, felix has been the one to say them: stay with me and promise me we'll be together. for as much as sylvain had stayed behind to comfort him, felix has always reached for him; he has never stopped reaching for him, and they're just words, really, but they linger and they leave impressions on him deeper than any touch, any wound. sylvain remembers, and he feels oddly choked up all of a sudden, feeling so foolish that felix can wreck him so easily with a few simple phrases less than ten words long. ]
And they called me devastating during the Academy, [ he chuckles, voice rougher than he'd like as he cups felix's cheek with his free hand. ] It's you all along.
[ flowery words never meant anything to felix, he knows. for once, sylvain is out of them as he runs the pad of his thumb over the smooth curve of felix's cheekbone, feeling so fond and in love that he's likely sick with it. so he tilts his head and kisses him instead, soft and slow; a gentle caress more than anything, like their kisses on that couch that afternoon, when sylvain knew without a doubt, that he was doomed. ]
[Sometimes it's less about what is easy for Felix and more about what Sylvain wants, or needs, or both? A thing Felix is slowly figuring out as they settle into this new normal of theirs, because it's—well. Sylvain is better at initiating; Sylvain always seems to know when Felix needs a hand on his shoulder, or a warm presence simply standing a step or so behind, and while Felix has unthinkingly taken advantage of that for so, so long, now he wants to do all that he can to offer Sylvain the same sort of... comfort. Love. It's difficult, at times; Felix frequently finds himself difficult to overcome, but as Felix forces himself to hold Sylvain's gaze, expression still stubbornly determined, Felix knows that Sylvain is well worth it.
And Sylvain drives this point home with that kiss, gentle as it is. Sweet as it is, tinged with such undisguised warmth that it makes Felix's jaw ache, sends Felix tilting into Sylvain's touch without a second thought. It's difficult to be difficult when Sylvain is... Sylvain? When Sylvain is as he is now: open, just a touch vulnerable. In need of whatever Felix can, will, give him—and Felix's heart aches for the Sylvain in the other world, the Sylvain some other version of himself left behind. What did that Sylvain need, in that moment. What could have been done for him.
...Stupid thoughts that will stay with Felix for days, if not weeks; stupid thoughts he shoves from his mind here and now, hands finding their way to Sylvain's chest, Sylvain's shoulders, as their kiss comes to an end. No takebacks. Hmm. Felix huffs out a short breath, expression softening the slightest bit as he thinks back to all the time spent alongside one another, or writing to one another, or bothering one another in various ways.]
I've been stuck with you. For years, now. [Simple and quiet as he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of Sylvain's warm hand as he refuses to think about Sylvain dying for him in another life.] I've hardly minded.
[Even if he's complained about it. You know what? Just shush.]
Oh, yeah? [ he lets go of felix's hand to wind his arm around his waist instead, tugging him closer as he kisses the tip of his nose. ] What was it you called me earlier? Insufferable, wasn't it? Or intolerable. [ a peck to the furrow between his brows— ] Both?
[ his tone is dry despite the stupid smile on his face, all thanks to the way felix tilts into him so readily and easily. felix keeps spoiling him like this and sylvain is never going to be able to leave; not that he wants to. not that he's able to, really, if he thinks about it. like the other sylvain who had followed felix to death, he knows it would be the same for him in this lifetime, should it ever come down to it. and it's a sobering thought, like fraldarius-gautier, like bringing a puppy home and knowing they'll end up taking care of it like one of their own. they don't know the first thing about being parents, but they know how not to be parents, and sylvain supposes that's as good of a place to start as any.
and isn't that what it's about? being in love and being together, learning together and growing together. five years ago, sylvain never entertained the idea that he'd ever be capable of really loving anyone, much less himself. this sort of thing wasn't meant for someone like him, despite the fact that he'd always secretly craved it and longed for it. but as it always is with felix, he razes all of that to the ground, doesn't leave room for any of sylvain's defense mechanisms and self-destructive tendencies; leaves him open and vulnerable in the best kind of way, putting him together again piece by imperfect piece and still finding a reason to care about him anyway. ]
[The barrage of kisses (re: all two of them) at least provide Felix with an excuse to keep his eyes closed? He squeezes his eyelids together all the tighter, nose scrunching up as he pretends that he does not appreciate this "attack." He doesn't, in a way. He's still not good with... this; things are easier when he's the one initiating them, but Sylvain being his annoyingly affectionate self is further proof that Sylvain is, you know. Fine, more or less. Alive and well. Felix can't find it within himself to tell Sylvain off, let alone pull away.
But he does, however, open his eyes as Sylvain mentions decades, expression easing as he studies him, because—ah. Well. They've been friends for decades, it's true enough; they'll continue being friends, Felix is sure, but there's something about hearing such a thing now? Maybe it's the press of Sylvain's hand against the small of his back; maybe it's the memory of Sylvain holding him close in the bath, looking back at him with such raw emotion. It's you, Fe, Sylvain whispered. It's always been you.
...Felix's future has always been a nebulous concept. He helped win the war, because the war needed to be won, and when they return, he'll... find something else to throw himself into; he'll do whatever needs to be done—but now, as Felix searches those brown eyes, Felix allows himself to consider the decades to come? Dares to imagine something solid, because it's always been Sylvain, for him. He's suddenly sure of it.
Far be it from Felix, however, to give voice to such a thing at this moment. He's overwhelmed over nothing at all; like, he very much wants to be punchy, pithy, but as he sucks in a breath, all he can manage is the incredibly stupid:]
You're so—
[Sylvain is many things. Felix likes most of them, strangely enough, and so Felix cuts himself off with a low, frustrated noise, pressing forward to express with a kiss what he can't express with words. It's forceful—Felix's general setting—but there's a distinct lack of teeth. No biting, this time; this is Felix savoring Sylvain, like he'd savored Sylvain's touch a scant minute or so ago.
Meanwhile, somewhere down by their feet, Zoltan slips free from his basket, excitedly sniffing about his new surroundings.]
[ so what? is what he wants to ask but never gets out as felix surges up to kiss him, brute forces his way in with that determined focus he uses with everything else. but it's a little different this time, a little softer and a little slower, and it makes something in him melt, sinking further into felix. he doesn't think he could ever get tired of this: kissing felix is nothing short of overwhelming, riddled with emotion that he'd never dared to voice, never dared to let himself try to find. he never thought he deserved this—the luxury of being able to hold felix close, to be able to touch him in this way without having to hide behind years of friendship, telling himself that felix deserves better than anything he could provide.
but the thing is, felix makes him want to try anyway in spite of it, makes him want to work for it. and maybe there will be a day when he can finally be worthy of it, the love that felix gives him freely, the belief he has in sylvain that never fails to push him further whenever he feels like he can't. felix has always done more for him than he knows.
he has his fingers in felix's hair when he pulls away, his heart threatening to thud right out of his ribcage when he remembers what breathing is. it's so easy to lose himself in felix, like a dying man taking his first sip of water after months of wandering a desert, and he wonders if felix knows. he wonders if felix understands that because it's still always been him, no matter what lifetime; every single one of them. but maybe he does, because he's felix and he knows him better than he knows himself sometimes, and maybe he knows the thing that's been on the tip of sylvain's tongue for the longest time, now that he's all but said it. that last piece to slot in place, one that sylvain has been working up to for years now.
but before any of that, he feels a small nudge against his ankle, a wet nose bumping against the side of his foot, and sylvain looks down to see zoltan sniffing around their feet in a more active bid for attention. ]
C'mon Zoltie, your parents are talking. [ he still has yet to let go of felix even as zoltan wriggles between them, trying to get to the other side and further into the apartment. dryly, as he looks back up at felix: ] This must be what it's like to have kids, huh?
i had this typed up for hours in a tab? i forgot to hit post, what the fuck
[Felix's mind is mess? He's thinking of everything and nothing as Sylvain shifts back, aware, on some level, that the end of the kiss surely means more talking—but he fails to account for Zoltan. Zoltan. The tiny ball of energy that drags Sylvain's attention downwards, and Felix is grateful for him, grateful that there's something light for Sylvain to focus on. Felix was immediately fond of Zoltan when he spotted him peeking out of Sylvain's shirt; now that fondness takes on new meaning, new depth, even as Sylvain says the stupidest shit. So they're parents now, are they...
...Felix shoots Sylvain a Look, of course, lips pressing into a thin line as Sylvain shifts his attention upwards once more. It's expected. It's all so blessedly normal, despite the fact that Zoltan is a strange new addition to both their lives. Their shared lives? Hmm.]
"Zoltie?" [Hmm, no. Firmly:] Zoltan.
[That's a very important name, you little shit—and Felix will be forced to Accept this cutesy version of it within a week. So it goes. Now, however, Felix is seizing upon this opportunity with reckless abandon, because he can and will sort through this bombshell when Sylvain's arms aren't around him, when Sylvain isn't holding him so closely. He should pull away; he does no such thing.]
We're not his—parents. He's your dog, and if he makes a mess, I won't be cleaning it.
[Again, give Felix a week. He'll be grumpily whipped.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ he's trying not to laugh. he really is, swear to the goddess and everything. but he's also not trying too particularly hard especially when felix goes over to pet those ears, and the puppy cannot decide if it is satisfied with this renewed attempt at affection or if it should continue its quest for the fingers. in the end, he ends up licking sylvain instead while nudging up against felix's fingers, so. compromise.
dimitri has just the right amount of gravitas to make this official tbh and sylvain is here for it. he's also here for how, despite his observation that he's just "a dog", he also hasn't said anything at all about not wanting to keep him, so that's another win that makes him way too pleased. enough to resist teasing felix about "jim" further and to instead offer: ]
What about Zoltan?
no subject
Quite the name.
[For a dog they know nothing about, especially, because his dog could be every bit as Stupide as Sylvain. Felix doesn't think so; like, maybe he's already a little biased, and he's definitely loath to say as much, but the dog has a sort of, ah, intelligent air. He's worthy of Felix's attention; he might be worthy of the name belonging to the best smith in all of Fódlan.
Or: Felix is already somewhat fond of Zoltan. Duh. Felix is also fond of that name, hence the way his expression momentarily brightens for the second time as he gives this a few seconds' thought—and it's gross, how soft he feels. Sylvain picking a name he knows Felix will like means more to Felix than it has any right to.]
I know what you're trying to do, and you're wasting your time. I don't... dislike him. [And as Sylvain speaks fluent Felix, Sylvain knows the weight of such a thing. But anyway, as Felix finally pulls his hands away, giving Sylvain an assessing sort of glance in the process:] Whatever you choose to call him won't change that.
[So don't feel like... you have to pick a Felix-brand name, Sylvain? Even though Felix might just have to (grudgingly) admit that Zoltan is... good.]
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but really, the truth is that if felix really wanted, they could stick with jim gautier-fraldarius and sylvain would be completely okay with it even if he would tease him about it for as long as they're here. but he knows what felix likes and, you know, maybe he just likes picking things that would make him happy. a wild concept, or something he's just used to doing. a little bit of both perhaps, in this case, but he sees the way felix's expression lights up and he knows it was worth it. ]
Hey, now. Maybe I just thought that would be a good name for him, you know? What do you think, my guy? [ he asks the puppy, shifting him around in his arms so that his tummy is exposed and giving him some belly rubs. ] Zoltan Jim Fraldarius-Gautier.
[ the puppy yips once and reaches up to paw at felix's wrist. please sir, may he have some belly rubs from you, too. sylvain looks back to felix and shrugs, still looking pleased. ]
Our child has spoken.
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Oh, and that's dumb, Felix knows. So dumb, because it was a joke, like calling this dog their "child" is a joke, and Felix is—well. He feels the fool, in a way? Feels that telltale warmth creep up the back of his neck, but he pushes past it, shooting Sylvain a frown even as he does, in fact, reach out to carefully scritch Zoltan's stomach. Zoltan hasn't done anything wrong.]
You're ridiculous, [he all but snaps, even if it's, mmm, more mulish than heated.] This is a dog. Your dog, Sylvain. I'm not repeating myself.
[It's not nice to tease people, Sylvain. Let alone Felix, because that's what this really does feel like: a tease. The start of some big joke, and as Felix has never been very good with those, Felix focuses on the puppy wriggling in Sylvain's arms, tongue lolling happily.]
He only needs one name: Zoltan.
[As in, that's it? That's all? No Jim, and certainly no hyphenated last name, Goddess above, what if someone in this world hears it. He's too focused on that to consider that he did, in fact, name the dog in the end. Played right into Sylvain's hands, huh...]
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[ he was the one who said it and it's still ringing in his head. fraldarius-gautier. he didn't even think about switching it to gautier-fraldarius, it came out like that and it just felt... it felt right, it felt easy, like everything else lately, and it's so dangerous how he keeps thinking about it. because he thinks about them going home, about the possibility of merging gautier and fraldarius whenever he sorts out sreng, whenever his old man passes. sylvain has no love for his bloodline, but he owes it to his people that still remain, and that's the only thing that'd keep him from really considering moving into fraldarius castle entirely.
but it's nice to think about while he's here, and in a way this is as close as he's going to get; a taste of what it'd be like to actually have what he wants without questioning whether or not he deserves it. he still doesn't think he does, and maybe that's something that will take longer still to change, but right now as he watches felix reach out to rub zoltan's tummy (the puppy he has now named, all according to sylvain's plan), he wants to try. he wants to, more than anything. and maybe he can carry this home, whenever they find their way back, maybe he'll remember all of this and this feeling of something finally slotting into place. the feeling of finding something he'd never realized he'd lost or had been searching for this whole time. ]
I'm gonna ask you something, [ he says, after a moment, still watching those long fingers scritching at that soft belly. ] And you're probably going to think it sounds stupid, but just humor me, okay.
[ he should have asked earlier, he thinks. this whole time, he'd been operating under the assumption that felix was from his timeline—his felix, just as he is his sylvain. ]
What's the last thing you remember from home?
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So Felix should be grateful, in his Felix-y way, to hear Sylvain abruptly shift topics. He should be—but he knows Sylvain well enough to recognize that, when Sylvain feels the need to ask Felix to "humor him," what's coming next is either going to be very, very stupid, or very, very important; it's why his eyes immediately flick upward, holding Sylvain's gaze despite how uncomfortable it feels to do so. Ah. Well. That expression is...
...Hmm. Felix studies it for a moment, fingers stilling on Zoltan's stomach as he thinks back to his last moments in Fódlan. He knows what Sylvain is going for, now. It doesn't take a genius to figure out some wild shit is going on, given that Edelgard is very much alive—and there is, in fact, a stab of fear Felix feels? A shard of ice that slips between his ribs, though he's careful to keep it to himself, to keep his expression perfectly composed as he considers that this could potentially change... everything. So it goes.]
...Enbarr, [he begins, so slowly, so simply.] We were in Enbarr. Dimitri killed Edelgard, and we won the war.
[And there's more to it, of course. Their early morning ride to Enbarr's gates, during which Felix kept one eye on his men and the other eye on Sylvain, always Sylvain. The push into the city itself, sweeping street after street, cutting down familiar face after familiar face. The rich red interior of the Imperial Palace, a strangely fitting backdrop for the twisted creature that was once Edelgard. The tightness of Dimitri's expression as he emerged from the throne room, the preternaturally calm professor by his side.
And, later: the sounds of raucous cheering as Faerghan forces emptied the imperial wine cellar, taking their just desserts while Felix stalked down corridor after corridor.]
Everyone was celebrating, but I couldn't find you.
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I went out, [ he says on a sigh, absentmindedly rubbing zoltan's ears with one hand, much to the puppy's delight. he's so small in his hands; he's still not over how tiny he is. ] I took a bottle and went outside, and I sat on the bridge.
[ he wasn't waiting for anyone or anything; the bottle was left untouched. he remembers watching the sun set over the city, lighting the buildings and carnage in fiery gold, and thought about still being alive at the end of it all. ]
I'd went back inside to find you, but I ended up here instead. Well, [ his smile turns wry, a little crooked tilt to his lips. ] I guess I kind of did find you in the end, huh?
[ so that's one down. one more to go. and this is the trickier one, because maybe it will change things, shift whatever it is between them into something else. he doesn't know; he doesn't have a plan for once, unable to really read how felix would react because this is a whole new chapter that none of them had studied before. a part of him thinks he should be more worried about it, and to some degree he is; the idea of losing felix, of hurting him enough to really push him away for good still looms over everything he's done and everything he may end up doing in the future. there's no reward without risk, and he'd willingly put their years of friendship on the line each time.
was it worth it in the end? is it still worth it? maybe it is, because try as he might, he still doesn't regret taking those thirty cocktail swords from the bar that night; he still doesn't regret kissing felix on the kitchen counter, and later on the couch. he doesn't regret letting felix pull him apart in the bathhouse, only to return the favor in their doorway later—he knows all the signs because he's seen it on the other side, and this time it's him. ]
... In another lifetime, I watched you die in the battle at Gronder. [ it's that little shove that keeps him going, spilling the rest of it out because while maybe some part of him had counted on dying at enbarr, the idea of not having this: the kitchen, the couch, the bathhouse and this puppy in his arms—it twists something in his chest. ] You fell and I lost it, and Hilda took me down.
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Not that Felix is one to believe in such things. The true power of their promise is what it inspires? The determination to live, live, live, or else, and yet Felix watches Sylvain, takes in that somewhat bittersweet grin, and Felix thinks, Of course you found me. I found you, because I will always find you. Sylvain is a constant in his life; Sylvain is someone Felix genuinely wants by his side, for various reasons, but somewhere along the line, a want has become a sort of need. Who would he be without Sylvain...
...He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.
And maybe he never will know, given that Sylvain takes full advantage of his silence to continue right along. Felix doesn't fault him for it; Felix can't, even though it's somewhat cruel, following up something so good with something so bad. I watched you die.
That doesn't bother him, in the moment. Maybe it should, but Felix has spent the past five years on the front lines, forcing himself to become stronger while knowing that it might not be enough. He watched so many others fall; every time he approached an enemy, he was well aware of the risk, well aware that, if he did fall, it would be his fault for not being as strong as he needed to be. He accepted that? He accepts this.
Leaving Sylvain behind, however, is unacceptable, hence the furrow of his brow as that fact ("fact") sinks in. He remembers the many, many times he's fussed at Sylvain for being far too reckless, something he's sure he's done, will do, in every so-called "lifetime," and it's—that's such a layered thing. Scolding Sylvain is Felix telling Sylvain to live, is Felix reaffirming their promise in the most roundabout way, is Felix ordering Sylvain to live because Felix is swearing that he won't die.
But he did.
Apparently. Allegedly. And of course he wants to argue about it, given its supposed source, because Felix dying before Sylvain is a bitter, bitter pill—but he swallows it, somehow. Once again finds himself studying Sylvain, attempting to imagine Sylvain losing it after watching him fall, and there is the sudden thought that perhaps he is every much a constant in Sylvain's life as Sylvain is in his. Who would Sylvain be without him? A distinctly selfish thought that has a distinctly unfortunate answer...
How unfair, for Sylvain. How terribly unfair. Felix feels a sudden surge of anger directed at this long-dead version of himself, causing him to press his lips into a thin line, but it's hardly productive; better to keep the focus on Sylvain, in this moment. Better to keep his emotions in check, locked away as best he can, as he reaches for the first question that comes to mind:]
How long have you known?
[His tone is clipped. Cool. Oddly calm, despite his everything, because this isn't meant to be an accusation; this is merely Felix wondering how long Sylvain has carried this weighty burden. That's an easy something to take into account as Felix works on processing... all the rest.]
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and yet, even now, knowing that there is another version of himself out there that watched felix fall, that wasn't there to protect him like he should have... it's a heavy weight. if he was stronger, if he was faster; if he had tried harder back then, maybe none of it would have happened. but it's fitting, in a way, that he had followed felix in the end because he knows himself, and he knows this to be true no matter the timeline or version of himself: he is nothing without felix.
he's been spoiled, he thinks. he's had the luxury of being by felix's side for most of his life and here in this new world; the alternative is just as hard to accept as hearing what became of them from hilda. ]
It's been a few days, give or take. [ zoltan has gone limp in his arms, dozing a little now that he isn't the center of attention anymore. sylvain sets him gently in his basket and takes one of felix's hands, loosely threading their fingers together. more to ground himself in this moment, to assure himself that they're still here. ] I ran into Hilda at the stables earlier. She started crying the second she saw me and I had a feeling something happened.
[ he wouldn't blame him if felix was upset. he looks up at him again, searching his gaze and feeling a little lighter after coming clean with it. ]
I know I should have told you sooner. I guess I just... needed time to process it, too. [ he rubs his thumb back and forth over felix's knuckles, squeezes his fingers briefly. ] But you're here and I'm here. Us dying in another lifetime doesn't change that. It doesn't mean I'm not going to keep our promise here either.
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So yes, Sylvain is right: Felix is here, and Sylvain is here, and nothing will change that. They're together in this world; they'll be together when they return to theirs, and Felix huffs out a quiet breath, ignoring his twisting stomach. This news will linger with him for far too long, he's sure of it, but it hardly matters. Sylvain is what matters. This fool Felix loves.]
I know that.
[Because he is not that Felix. Because they are both here, which is why Felix brings his other hand up, fingers hooking into Sylvain's collar so that Felix can tug Sylvain down, can guide Sylvain's forehead to bump against his. Maybe it's stupid; it's certainly sentimental, but breathing the same air feels... comforting, in this moment. Reassuring, even as Felix fixes Sylvain with the sharpest look he can manage, given the angle.]
I don't need you to remind me, [he murmurs into that bit of space between them, so firm, so stubbornly cross.] I won't leave you, Sylvain. You're not alone.
[Which means more than the simple, obvious fact that so many friends are here. They are friends? Something more than friends, at this point, and thus Felix is here for him, will always be here for him, refuses to accept the idea of him suffering in silence for no reason at all.]
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and only felix can look at him like that and sound like that while saying things like i won't leave you, and mean it completely and genuinely. his whole life, felix has been the one to say them: stay with me and promise me we'll be together. for as much as sylvain had stayed behind to comfort him, felix has always reached for him; he has never stopped reaching for him, and they're just words, really, but they linger and they leave impressions on him deeper than any touch, any wound. sylvain remembers, and he feels oddly choked up all of a sudden, feeling so foolish that felix can wreck him so easily with a few simple phrases less than ten words long. ]
And they called me devastating during the Academy, [ he chuckles, voice rougher than he'd like as he cups felix's cheek with his free hand. ] It's you all along.
[ flowery words never meant anything to felix, he knows. for once, sylvain is out of them as he runs the pad of his thumb over the smooth curve of felix's cheekbone, feeling so fond and in love that he's likely sick with it. so he tilts his head and kisses him instead, soft and slow; a gentle caress more than anything, like their kisses on that couch that afternoon, when sylvain knew without a doubt, that he was doomed. ]
You're stuck with me now. No takebacks.
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And Sylvain drives this point home with that kiss, gentle as it is. Sweet as it is, tinged with such undisguised warmth that it makes Felix's jaw ache, sends Felix tilting into Sylvain's touch without a second thought. It's difficult to be difficult when Sylvain is... Sylvain? When Sylvain is as he is now: open, just a touch vulnerable. In need of whatever Felix can, will, give him—and Felix's heart aches for the Sylvain in the other world, the Sylvain some other version of himself left behind. What did that Sylvain need, in that moment. What could have been done for him.
...Stupid thoughts that will stay with Felix for days, if not weeks; stupid thoughts he shoves from his mind here and now, hands finding their way to Sylvain's chest, Sylvain's shoulders, as their kiss comes to an end. No takebacks. Hmm. Felix huffs out a short breath, expression softening the slightest bit as he thinks back to all the time spent alongside one another, or writing to one another, or bothering one another in various ways.]
I've been stuck with you. For years, now. [Simple and quiet as he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of Sylvain's warm hand as he refuses to think about Sylvain dying for him in another life.] I've hardly minded.
[Even if he's complained about it. You know what? Just shush.]
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[ his tone is dry despite the stupid smile on his face, all thanks to the way felix tilts into him so readily and easily. felix keeps spoiling him like this and sylvain is never going to be able to leave; not that he wants to. not that he's able to, really, if he thinks about it. like the other sylvain who had followed felix to death, he knows it would be the same for him in this lifetime, should it ever come down to it. and it's a sobering thought, like fraldarius-gautier, like bringing a puppy home and knowing they'll end up taking care of it like one of their own. they don't know the first thing about being parents, but they know how not to be parents, and sylvain supposes that's as good of a place to start as any.
and isn't that what it's about? being in love and being together, learning together and growing together. five years ago, sylvain never entertained the idea that he'd ever be capable of really loving anyone, much less himself. this sort of thing wasn't meant for someone like him, despite the fact that he'd always secretly craved it and longed for it. but as it always is with felix, he razes all of that to the ground, doesn't leave room for any of sylvain's defense mechanisms and self-destructive tendencies; leaves him open and vulnerable in the best kind of way, putting him together again piece by imperfect piece and still finding a reason to care about him anyway. ]
What's another decade or two, right?
[ or three, or four. ]
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But he does, however, open his eyes as Sylvain mentions decades, expression easing as he studies him, because—ah. Well. They've been friends for decades, it's true enough; they'll continue being friends, Felix is sure, but there's something about hearing such a thing now? Maybe it's the press of Sylvain's hand against the small of his back; maybe it's the memory of Sylvain holding him close in the bath, looking back at him with such raw emotion. It's you, Fe, Sylvain whispered. It's always been you.
...Felix's future has always been a nebulous concept. He helped win the war, because the war needed to be won, and when they return, he'll... find something else to throw himself into; he'll do whatever needs to be done—but now, as Felix searches those brown eyes, Felix allows himself to consider the decades to come? Dares to imagine something solid, because it's always been Sylvain, for him. He's suddenly sure of it.
Far be it from Felix, however, to give voice to such a thing at this moment. He's overwhelmed over nothing at all; like, he very much wants to be punchy, pithy, but as he sucks in a breath, all he can manage is the incredibly stupid:]
You're so—
[Sylvain is many things. Felix likes most of them, strangely enough, and so Felix cuts himself off with a low, frustrated noise, pressing forward to express with a kiss what he can't express with words. It's forceful—Felix's general setting—but there's a distinct lack of teeth. No biting, this time; this is Felix savoring Sylvain, like he'd savored Sylvain's touch a scant minute or so ago.
Meanwhile, somewhere down by their feet, Zoltan slips free from his basket, excitedly sniffing about his new surroundings.]
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but the thing is, felix makes him want to try anyway in spite of it, makes him want to work for it. and maybe there will be a day when he can finally be worthy of it, the love that felix gives him freely, the belief he has in sylvain that never fails to push him further whenever he feels like he can't. felix has always done more for him than he knows.
he has his fingers in felix's hair when he pulls away, his heart threatening to thud right out of his ribcage when he remembers what breathing is. it's so easy to lose himself in felix, like a dying man taking his first sip of water after months of wandering a desert, and he wonders if felix knows. he wonders if felix understands that because it's still always been him, no matter what lifetime; every single one of them. but maybe he does, because he's felix and he knows him better than he knows himself sometimes, and maybe he knows the thing that's been on the tip of sylvain's tongue for the longest time, now that he's all but said it. that last piece to slot in place, one that sylvain has been working up to for years now.
but before any of that, he feels a small nudge against his ankle, a wet nose bumping against the side of his foot, and sylvain looks down to see zoltan sniffing around their feet in a more active bid for attention. ]
C'mon Zoltie, your parents are talking. [ he still has yet to let go of felix even as zoltan wriggles between them, trying to get to the other side and further into the apartment. dryly, as he looks back up at felix: ] This must be what it's like to have kids, huh?
i had this typed up for hours in a tab? i forgot to hit post, what the fuck
...Felix shoots Sylvain a Look, of course, lips pressing into a thin line as Sylvain shifts his attention upwards once more. It's expected. It's all so blessedly normal, despite the fact that Zoltan is a strange new addition to both their lives. Their shared lives? Hmm.]
"Zoltie?" [Hmm, no. Firmly:] Zoltan.
[That's a very important name, you little shit—and Felix will be forced to Accept this cutesy version of it within a week. So it goes. Now, however, Felix is seizing upon this opportunity with reckless abandon, because he can and will sort through this bombshell when Sylvain's arms aren't around him, when Sylvain isn't holding him so closely. He should pull away; he does no such thing.]
We're not his—parents. He's your dog, and if he makes a mess, I won't be cleaning it.
[Again, give Felix a week. He'll be grumpily whipped.]