[Felix remembers falling asleep beside Sylvain so very often, when they were children—and thus Felix remembers waking beside Sylvain? Waiting, impatiently, for the older boy to swim to consciousness, except for those rare few times Felix opened his eyes to find Sylvain hovering above him, teasing him for being unconsciously clingy. Whether Felix cried or stuck his tongue out in response depended on the day, but the truth was still the truth: Felix was clingy. He'd drift to sleep facing Sylvain, fingers curled in his shirt, and wake up with his head tucked beneath Sylvain's chin, arm thrown over Sylvain's chest as though he couldn't bear for him to leave.
And this, embarrassingly enough, is how a much older Felix wakes, though it takes him a bit longer to get his bearings. It all comes to him by degrees, really. First he's aware of the dim light streaming through his window, letting him know he's slept in an hour or so later than he prefers; then he's aware that the back of his neck is uncomfortably sweaty, long hair sticking to slick skin; then he's aware that the pillow beneath his arm apparently moving of its own accord, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and—ah. Aha. It isn't a pillow at all, he finds. His arm is thrown over Sylvain's bare chest, and his head is nestled atop Sylvain's shoulder, and—
—well. The worst part of it all is that it isn't bad? Felix is perfectly comfortable, aside from being a little too warm—and that, stupidly enough, is what spurs him to carefully disentangle himself, to carefully slip to his feet. Sylvain is as dead to the world as he's ever been, Felix finds. Even after Felix pulls on his clothes and re-ties his hair, Sylvain is still deep asleep.
...Good. Not good? Felix doesn't know, honestly, because while Felix isn't one to sit around and wait for Sylvain to wake up, Felix considers Sylvain waking up alone, feeling... abandoned, or something. Something stupid and silly and not at all accurate, and yet it's still enough for Felix to linger for a few minutes longer, gathering Sylvain's (wrinkled) clothing from the corner to hang over the back of his chair, setting a pitcher of water atop the table closest to the bed, drawing the curtains closed before the light becomes too bright. Small stuff.
But he leaves, eventually. Stops by the kitchens before making his way to the training grounds, because Felix has always best processed things while swinging his sword. It's therapeutic, in a way; it gives him time to think, because no one would ever consider approaching Felix Hugo Fraldarius while he's hacking away at training dummies. It's perfect.
And then it's just, you know. A matter of checking in on his battalion. Discussing strategies with Byleth. Buying time for Sylvain to wake up and dress and move, because Felix isn't planning to avoid anything, or to leave Sylvain alone with his thoughts for too long. That's dangerous.
So when he hears that Sylvain is at the stables, presumably checking in on his horses (and really taking advantage of the darkness within the stables, Felix is willing to bet)—well. Lunch is in, like, thirty minutes, but here Felix is, anyway, leaning over the door to this stall as he watches Sylvain do whatever it is Sylvain does. It's not like he knows; he spends as little time around horses as he possibly can.]
You're alive, I see.
[Sharp eyes skim down Sylvain's form, surveying the general state of him. Good morning, sunshine.]
[ he's a master of bad decisions, and the sheer amount he'd imbibed last night was definitely up there in terms of recent ones. sylvain's pretty sure that several of the other partygoers were having just as grueling a day as he was, but the knowledge of that mutually assured destruction was doing nothing to calm the thumping ache in his head from what remained of the hangover. nothing that he wasn't used to, but unpleasant all the same! luckily, this occurred so frequently that sylvain had the perfect routine for recovery - put himself out of the way of others, hide in the stables, and if anyone asked him to do anything useful, to find a way to weasel out of it. what was the point in having charisma if it didn't let you get away with breaking the rules, just a little?
there's a meditative quality to doing work in the stables, too - sylvain's always been a fan of horses and horse-riding, often more graceful on the back of one than on his own two feet. it's one of the few times he can actually hear himself think, going through the paces of grooming his mount and maintaining his tack; simple things he could do with his hands that he'd done a hundred times before. that said, the 'hearing' part was going a little tougher today because (aside from the crushing headache) there was a clamour of voices demanding to be heard, asking for answers, a plan of action on how he was going to approach what he'd crashed through last night without any sort of idea where he was going except that it was right. the right thing to do.
although he'd woken up alone, it hadn't actually bothered the redhead that much - in fact, it was almost a blessing. he hadn't figured out what he needed to say yet, and doing so while feeling like something scraped off the bottom of a boot was probably not going to do him any favours. he'd been around felix long enough to know the telltale signs that he hadn't just disappeared - that was sylvain's thing, after all - like his clothes having been straightened out and the very, very welcome jug of water next to the bed, which was decidedly empty now.
he'd needed the extra sleep to regroup, and ever since, he'd been down here, alternating between a welcome calm and a disquieting panic as sylvain slowly came to the sober realisation that he had absolutely no idea how to approach a situation this delicate. it wasn't his strength, being diplomatic - he was blunt, flirtatious, obtuse, but never overly genuine.
that may be why he jumps a little at felix's voice behind him, so engrossed in his self-pitying train of thought that he hadn't heard the other come in. ]
Shit, Felix. [ sylvain turns slightly, one hand dramatically over his heart as he quickly calms down. ] Do you ever make noise when you walk, or were you just born with the power of stealth?
[ he looks a little disheveled, considering the previous night, but at least it seems like he went back to his quarters to clean himself up before coming back out into public. small victories for devil-may-care men. ]
Yes, I'm alive. Somehow. Remind me not to drink anything our king recommends ever again, please? He has terrible taste and I'm not sure how I forgot that.
[ let's avoid the topic!! ]
Edited (the english language sucks, in this essay i will,,,) 2020-08-13 05:54 (UTC)
[Felix has been dealing with Sylvain's Dramatics™ for as long as he can remember, hence his somewhat flat expression as his eyes make their way back up to Sylvain's face. That is normal, for Felix; the sort of, mmm, nervousness settling in the pit of his stomach is not, because this is Sylvain he's dealing with. Sylvain. When has Felix ever felt nervous around anyone, let alone his best friend...
But as familiar as Sylvain is—a veritable constant in Felix's life—there is the very real sense that Felix is wading into uncharted waters? That they both are, really, because Felix looks at Sylvain and Felix remembers kissing him, remembers waking up beside him, and that's... those are things that can't be taken back. Those things are there, permanently etched into Felix's memories, and Felix knows that he will never be able to look at Sylvain without facing them full-on. Something has clearly shifted between them, just as Felix thought (feared?) it would.
So what is there to do, other than address it? Oh, he knows Sylvain would rather not; he knows that Sylvain just tossed so many words between them in the vain hope that Felix would seize onto some of them, meander down some stupid conversational avenue, but—no, no. This is Felix, and thus, despite his own uncertainly, Felix stiffly crosses his arms atop the stall door. He's here, you see. He isn't going anywhere, and he certainly isn't going to waste time chatting about his perfectly normal approach. Constant vigilance, sir... get with it...]
You forgot because it was convenient, [is his blunt, somewhat pointed response.] It's a habit of yours.
[Hmm, yes, so this is definitely Pointed, though there's no real force behind his words. Felix clearly isn't out for blood, hence the singular beat that passes before he adds:]
Yes, well, it's hard to resist when the opportunity is so great.
[ is his easy reply, seemingly nonplussed by the subtle jab that felix sends his way. at least when he's on the receiving end of felix's criticisms, it's always true? they could certainly get away with saying sharper things to each other than anyone else in their cohort could, simply because their bond was so strong. they were good at sorting out what was jest and what was truth without explicitly saying so, and that had always seemed to work.
now, however... it seemed dangerous that felix could see right through him, when he hadn't even figured anything out for himself yet. but sylvain most definitely wasn't a coward, even if this entire situation made him uncomfortable. it wasn't felix, or what they'd done that was causing him to feel that way - just the weight of responsibility weighing on him, that this wasn't something he wanted to ruin.
turning back to his mount, brush still in hand, he quickly finishes up the last of the grooming while keeping one eye on felix's form draping over the stall door. sylvain's making an effort to show he's not ignoring him, that he's not trying to escape - otherwise, he would've tried hiding better, something he's certainly capable of. ]
I've had worse, but I've also had better.
[ a brief pause as he finishes brushing the horse's coat, putting down the brush on the stall shelf and turning to face felix, looking him purposefully up and down. ]
I'd ask you the same question, but you seem chipper as ever. Good sleep?
[You know, Felix is no fool; Felix does realize that Sylvain is at least paying him a modicum of attention, despite the fact that his mount's upkeep is one of the, like, few things Sylvain seems to take seriously—but Felix still feels, mmm, slightly more at ease, knowing that Sylvain's focused is (mostly) directed elsewhere. Slightly. Some of the tension in his shoulders dissipates, at least, as he watches Sylvain go about his business, because truth be told, this is Sylvain at what Felix considers to be his best? Moving with purpose. Putting forth effort.
...It's just nice to watch Sylvain work. For various reasons, some of which Felix is stubbornly refusing to think about as Sylvain abruptly faces him once more. He's never been good with others... staring at him; like, that quick once-over already has his stomach twisting, but oh, to follow it up with that careless question. A good sleep? A good sleep.
Mmph. He manages to meet Sylvain's gaze for all of two seconds before he glances off to the side, reaching for words as he studies a shovel. All he can think about, predictably, is being tucked so close to Sylvain's side? How natural it felt, Sylvain's every breath ruffling his bangs.]
I've... had worse. [But not better, which is, of course, an intentional omission? One Felix allows to hang there for a moment, for Reasons, before he forces himself to look back Sylvain's way. Archly:] At least you didn't snore. I suppose I should be grateful.
[There may be a hint of color high on Felix's cheeks now, but don't worry about it. The dimness of the stables is officially benefiting them both.]
[ it's not like the break in felix's gaze or the slight flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed - sylvain makes a great show of being blase and lazy, but he's surprisingly observant underneath his many acts. the atmosphere between them was a weird dichotomy of that same familiarity they always enjoyed, and this new layer of strange tension where neither of them really knew what to say or do next. in some way, it's a small relief to sylvain, that felix seems just as awkward about this entire situation as he does, but... it doesn't step them any closer to a solution.
even he can't maintain his mask for that long, breaking his gaze again to pull the saddle blanket off the side of the stall where he'd put it earlier when he'd started, desperately needing something to busy himself with. throwing it over the back of the black mount, sylvain takes much more time to straighten it up than usual, almost like he's buying himself time. but what was the point in that, when he was literally trapped in this stall with his decisions?
with a short sigh, the redhead moves towards the front of the stall and raises his hands to gently pat the horse's forehead in a familiar fashion, a strangely compassionate movement that was in odds with how he usually carried himself. in reply, the mount whinnies quietly, doing something to fill the silence between them. ]
I might be an idiot, but I'm guessing you didn't come by for horse-care tips.
[ pulling something white and square - a sugar lump? - out of his breeches pocket and feeds it to the horse, much to it's delight. ]
[Felix doesn't feel trapped, in this moment. Sure, some part of him would prefer to be back at the training grounds, whittling the time away until lunch is served—but he made his bed last night? Chose to share it, actually, and there's no sense in avoiding the matter. Things have been forever changed, for better or for worse, and listen: Felix doesn't run from anything.
Sometimes, however, it's difficult for Felix to figure out the proper approach. He's so good at it on the battlefield, sizing up his opponent in order to determine when and where to strike—and he's halfway decent at it in the midst of an argument, but this is... well! It's new. Felix is delving deeper into those uncharted waters by the second, and he's second-guessing himself in a most un-Felix-like fashion. Did he say the wrong thing, a moment ago? Did he miss something?
...Mm. Maybe. He feels fidgety for no apparent reason, driven to shift his weight from one leg to the other as he watches Sylvain dote on his horse. It's endearing, in a way. Felix doesn't get horses, but he gets Sylvain, gets that maybe it's easier to be soft to this loyal creature than, say, an actual person. It isn't like it expects anything from him.
But while Felix did indeed choose to share his bed, Sylvain chose to climb into it. Give and take,hence the second Felix spends considering his tangled thoughts before he says, as blunt as ever:]
I'm more interested in yours.
[He's not the one with a history of running away, after all. Felix makes a decision; Felix sees it through. Everyone knows that.]
[ he'd expected a response like that, to be honest. brushing the excess sugar off of his hands on the sides of his breeches, sylvain walks over towards where felix was standing on the other side of the stable gate, leaning easily against the wooden wall. there wasn't really any running from this, was there? especially since felix was blocking the only exit, and would probably hand his ass to him if he tried to gap the gate.
but it's not just his habits that are in question here - it's what felix deserves, and how he should be treated. he needed to be given something better than vague words or a quick exit, this much sylvain knows, but what worries him the most is that he doesn't know if he can provide it. ]
That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me.
[ some small levity, but it doesn't really reach sylvain's eyes even though he has that perpetual, easy smile on his face. this is probably going to be too serious for jokes, right? ]
Well... [ he trails off, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck in some uncharacteristic uncertainty. ] We made out on your floor, then you slept wrapped around me all night like a limpet. It was a good evening, apart from the hangover. Would do it again.
[ just as noncommittal as expected, but sylvain's trying - or at least, he thinks he is. his standards for making an effort are probably a lot lower than others, but in his mind? he's putting himself out there, especially because he's had his hand forced to make the first move. his response doesn't really belie his true feelings, because that's still So Hard - how does he even tell his best friend of what, twenty years, that he might be in love with him?
[Sylvain leaping over the gate would be an answer in its own right, really. Concise in a way Felix should appreciate? Clear as fuckin' day—but Sylvain settles against the low wall, instead, and Felix tilts his head just far enough to the side for his eyes to remain trained on Sylvain's face. Nothing about this is easy; everything about this is terribly awkward, actually, and yet it's clear they're both making an effort. It's the only reason Felix bites his tongue, refrains from telling Sylvain that acting like an idiot is not the same as actually being an idiot. There's no reason to venture down that twisting path, because Felix made his point...
...And Sylvain's response is, ah. Well. It's the truth? Technically? The highly embarrassing truth that sends Felix huffily looking to the side, scowling at the perfectly innocent party—Sylvain's poor horse—bearing witness to this mess. Like a limpet. A phrase plucked from their younger years, which Felix heard all too often; in this context, however, it's more irritating than ever, and Felix once again wonders why it's so difficult for Sylvain to just... say shit without turning it into a minor production.]
Sylvain.
[Take this seriously, that impatient tone implies, even if Felix doesn't outright say it. Why would he? He knows that, on some level, Sylvain is... trying; he knows that this is likely as new to Sylvain as it is to him, if genuine feelings are involved; he knows that Sylvain jokes around with him, but always, always takes him seriously, when push comes to shove. It's the only reason Felix has a single shred of patience right here, right now, as he's all but placing his heart on the table.]
You're impossible, you know, [he grumbles, huffing out a quick breath before forcing himself to once again meet Sylvain's gaze. Clearly there's only one way to proceed? Clearly it's Felix's turn to prod, so, after a beat passes:] And you know that would is not—it's not want.
[Felix would do many things, if he had to; that doesn't necessarily mean he'd want to.]
[ his tone sounds a little defeated, the practiced mirth leaving his face as it quickly becomes clear that felix is very much serious (sylvain already knew this) and losing patience with him (sylvain understands this). a silence passes between the two that lasts just a few moments too long to be anything but obtusely awkward, the taller man shoving his hands into his pockets to do something about the nervous energy that seemed to be circulating in the air.
truth be told, sylvain is getting frustrated, too. not at felix, goddess no - but at himself, at his inability to say what's truly on his mind but simultaneously able to spout whatever shit would get him a laugh or a flirtatious look. old habits die hard, and this one? it's holding on and struggling for breath right now.
a frown starts to form on sylvain's face as felix meets his eyes. he desperately does not want to lie, but at the same time? he's got absolutely no clue what to do if doing something came with consequences. ]
I don't do things I don't want to, you know that.
[ the first part comes out in a mixture of that frustration and a tone just slightly too easy for the situation. ]
Look, I'm not really sure what you want me to say here, Felix. Did I enjoy what happened last night? Yes. Do I want to do it again? Again, yes. But you haven't told me what you want yet, either.
[ eye for an eye. right? is that how relationships worked? ]
[I don't do things I don't want to, Sylvain says, and yes, Felix knows that. Felix knows that all too well, and yet some part of Felix needs to hear that Sylvain wanted this? Wants this, as though that will give it actual weight—and maybe it will, in a way, because it's easy to keep everything inside, to bury it somewhere deep and convenient; saying things aloud, however, is so incredibly difficult, because it's only when the words leave one's lips that one realizes how much they do or do not mean them.
Felix is, in the worst possible way, offering Sylvain one last out.
But Sylvain doesn't take it? Sylvain says what some not-so-small part of Felix was hoping to hear—and then Sylvain neatly flips it all right back around, catching Felix in a net of his own making. And that's, you know. That's fair. Felix recognizes this even as he stiffens, feeling the curious sensation that is his heart lightening as his stomach sinks. Being put on the spot is less than pleasant, because Felix knows what Felix wants; it's just a matter of, ah, phrasing, because so much of what Felix wants can be boiled down to one word—and that word is what he decides to go with, in the end.]
You, [is his deceptively simple answer, then, spoken in such a deceptively steady voice.] Obviously.
[It would be cheesy, were it anyone but Felix saying such a thing—but Felix is perfectly earnest. Perfectly stupid, because you encompasses so many things, in Felix's mind? It's the entirety of their friendship; it's the ease with which they interact; it's the comfort they offer one another; it's the knowledge that nothing will change, even if absolutely everything does.
Saying all of that, however? Impossible, hence Felix's huff as he lifts his chin, attempting to mask discomfort with defiance.]
Why else would I kiss you?
[Idiot is unspoken, but oh, it's grumpily implied. Take him as he is, etc, etc.]
[ there aren't many things on the face of the earth that could render sylvain speechless, but apparently, felix's one - two - word answer was one of them. he doesn't know what he expected, actually, and maybe it's because he expected nothing at all? his expectations, especially in terms of what he deserved, whether he was allowed genuine love and affection, are so low that having felix stand there and say that he wants him, is, well.
he looks like an idiot at the moment, just as felix's intonation accused. not a smart man pretending to be an idiot like he usually is, just an absolute, surprised idiot. when it came to genuine emotion, sylvain had never been particularly good at hiding what he felt, whether it was passion, anger or otherwise, and now was no different as the beginnings of a crimson blush start crawling up his neck. ]
I don't know! You're always so damn measured and cryptic, I--
[ and that's it. there's a little switch that always flips in sylvain's head when he realises his words are no good and it's time for action, one that seems to flip relatively often if he's being quite honest? his words are often trash, poor substitutes for how he really feels, or what he truly wants to express - so that's maybe why the tall redhead crosses the distance between the wall and the door of the stall where felix is leaning in two large, purposeful strides, the frown on his face changed instead into a look of fierce determination.
this is a better answer, sylvain thinks - better than him stumbling over romantic platitudes, which a dalliance would deserve. not felix. felix deserves much, much more, and while sylvain had done his best so far in all that time they'd known each other to prove that, this is the perfect chance to emphasise that point now, right?
so, long fingers reach out to curl themselves into the collar of felix's shirt, tightening just enough to give sylvain a firm grip, and he makes a point to meet felix's eyes point-blank before he meets his lips, soundly kissing him. it's maybe a bit rougher than he intends, because there's just - a lot of feelings coursing through him right now, all them overwhelming, but sylvain wants felix to know, unequivocally, he regrets nothing and treasures everything. ]
[Complicated things are so much easier to handle when Felix has the high ground? When Felix thinks he has the high ground, as he does while he watches Sylvain blink back at him, taking a moment to connect the dots that, in Felix's mind, should have been connected so very long ago. It isn't as though Felix has made a habit—a hobby—of kissing others, unlike some; Felix can count the people he's well and truly kissed on one hand, so it's ridiculous, hearing Sylvain call him cryptic. Ridiculous! Felix is straightforward in everything he does—or so he would like to think, anyway, hence his scoff as he straightens, as he prepares to fire right back. Arguing for the sake of arguing is hardly productive; in this moment, Felix hardly cares.
But Sylvain cutting himself off turns into Sylvain surging forward, hooking his fingers into the collar of Felix's shirt, and Felix has done this same thing to Sylvain many a time. Anchoring him in place after a battle, usually, while fussing at him, telling him to do better, to be better, and Felix is prepared for that same treatment; what Felix is not prepared for, however, is the look in Sylvain's eyes? Sylvain seemingly so, so serious before he leans down, swiftly closing the scant distance between them.
And it's amazing, how the urge to be contrary flees Felix entirely, because the near-bruising pressure of Sylvain's lips is—it's good. It's perfect. It's Sylvain once again just knowing what Felix wants, and Felix places both hands on top of the stall door, risking splinters and who knows what else in order to push himself up, up, up to return this pressure in full. Standing in the stables is not, like, ideal, but as Felix licks at the seam of Sylvain's lips, impatient to deepen this kiss—ah. No trace of whiskey to be found, hence his pleased (and somewhat smug?) hum. He was right, last night; it is better today...
...Even if unthinkingly shifting forward results in his bony hip banging against the solid wood door? Resulting in an unexpected bloom of pain that sends him jerking back, a barely audible curse escaping him, because nothing about them is smooth; everything about them is awkward..]
[ just like what he could remember of last night, it's so easy to get lost in felix's everything. the moment their lips crash together, all the idiotic voices bouncing around inside his head suddenly quiet and that warm feeling washes over him almost immediately, the one that reaffirms that this is right, this is perfect. he's just about to lean forward to repeat the kiss, to drink up more of felix's proximity as he feels that tongue swipe across his bottom lip - sylvain's never been much for moderation, especially in terms of vices, and it takes very little to encourage him towards the stunning man he still can't quite believe is in his grip.
but then they lose just a bit too much control and the kiss is broken as felix bangs into the stall, the wood slamming back in the frame a little which in turn made the horse behind them take a step back and whinny in surprise. look, there's a lot going on, and this poor, poor horse has had to bear witness to it all, all the awkward silence and now, the awkward reconciliation. if life was fair, the horse would get hazard pay.
so sylvain is just kind of... hanging there, over the edge of the stall as he watches felix take a step back, a bemused look on his face that did nothing to offset the red in his cheeks. ]
Uh.
[ and he waits for a second for felix to right himself, because even though this was a new kind of embarrassing for the both of them, it was also... endearing. amusing. like nothing had changed, and yet everything had? they were still the same best friends as ever, which is a bigger relief to sylvain than anything else so far. ]
Are you okay, or do I need to get someone?
[ a pointed grin is sent felix's way as sylvain leans easily on the top of the stall door, that easiness returning to his voice. ]
[Felix is not a clumsy man. He generally moves with purpose, with a well-honed grace—but Sylvain entering his space certainly makes him feel clumsy? Sluggish, really, as he brings a hand to his hip, pressing his fingers against the jut of it before he remembers to look up at the person speaking to him. Ah! ...Hmm. Felix is dealing with both a bruised hip and a bruised ego, and Sylvain is the cause of both, albeit in a... roundabout way...
Or: Felix is well aware that he's the cause of his own stupid suffering, but it's easy to huff? Easy to blame Sylvain for the very real effect Sylvain has on him, because Felix looks at him leaning over the stall door and Felix wants to simultaneously shove him back and drag him right over the door itself. Felix wants to leave him to tend to his scaredy-cat horse; Felix wants to push him against a wall and kiss him senseless, and there's the very real sense that this sort of dichotomy is here to stay. How messy.]
I'm fine.
[At least it's still easy to snap at Sylvain? To shoot him a mild Look as he pulls that hand from his hip, brings it up to swipe across his lips instead, because he can still feel the kiss, feel Sylvain. The absence of Sylvain, more like it, and it's unfair, given how relatively unruffled Sylvain looks at this point in time. Red-cheeked, sure—and there's something distinctly nice about knowing that he is the cause of that, but as Felix knows that he, too, is bright red, it barely matters. He's the one who made a fool of himself, because Sylvain is...
Well, it's like this: Felix has spent years overcoming his weaknesses, and now a new one is grinning back at him. One that might just turn out to be his biggest weakness—and yet, while Felix does his best to scowl, Felix still steps forward, so easily drawn right back into Sylvain's orbit.]
...Stop kissing me in the worst places.
[Implying that Sylvain is, in fact, responsible for his poor hip—and that Felix will allow future kisses.]
[ he's so used to being on the receiving end of felix's snapped comments that it doesn't even really affect sylvain anymore - not that it ever had, really, even back when they were children. maybe that's why they had become such fast friends, with personalities that seemed to be quite opposite and yet so complementary, sylvain with all his exaggerated drama and practiced laziness, and felix with the prickliness and discipline to counter it. the train of thought only makes the redhead smile more, especially as felix brushes his hand across his face, a deep blush staining his cheeks.
it's weird, isn't it? discovering this entirely new side to someone he's known for decades, seeing them in a whole new light. it wasn't like they hadn't been in each other's space before - in fact, sylvain was a regular culprit in invading felix's personal bubble ever since they'd been kids. but that had slowly changed into this, where the familiarity blends seamlessly with something tense, something intoxicating, and, well... sylvain wasn't complaining.
there's some comfort, too, in seeing a blush that matched him on felix's face. that they were both on the back foot in this situation, feeling as awkward as the other? it's weird to think that makes it easier, but somehow, it does. ]
You're not allowed to pull that card on me when I've only gotten to kiss you, what? Three times?
[ sylvain's height lets him easily drape his arms over felix's shoulders as the other returns, such a simple touch but somehow? it felt so much more real, more fulfilling than the many meaningless embraces he'd naively sought out over the past few years. musing with that devilish expression he wears so well; ]
I haven't even gotten to kiss you in the war room, yet. Maybe during tomorrow's meeting? It'd make it so much more interesting.
[Three times. Three times, which echoes in Felix's uncharacteristically empty mind as Sylvain's arms settle atop his shoulders. It's an oddly welcome weight; it's grounding, somehow, allowing Felix to meet and hold those familiar brown eyes, and maybe that isn't so odd after all. It's a well-known fact that Sylvain is the exception to so many of Felix's rules, and whether that's due to Felix's genuine affection or Sylvain's stubborn refusal to listen, well? Who can say? It's probably a bit of both; it probably doesn't matter. What does is the simple fact that Sylvain is—has always been—important.
And Sylvain is—has always been—the clown to Felix's straight man, so of course Sylvain attempts to poke a bit of fun? Of course Sylvain attempts to, like, break up this awkward aura with a stupid line that earns him a full-on glare. Felix knows, knows, that Sylvain is simply looking for a reaction by threatening to kiss him in front of everyone, and yet he still feels a hot flash of something akin to panic. The mortifying ordeal of being known is just that: mortifying, especially for an intensely private person like Felix—but it's more than that, given how little Felix cares for the opinions of others. It's about Felix wanting to nurture this... whatever it turns out to be; it's about Felix wanting to keep something genuinely good to himself for fear of watching it up and disappear, because some not-so-small part of him is all too used to losing important things.
...It's foolish. All of this is, but Felix still lifts a hand, cruelly poking his pointer finger into the soft underside of Sylvain's chin. He can play in this space, if he must, because Goddess forbid he even hint about his various insecurities. It's far too early, for one thing—and effective communication is a myth, so.]
Try it. [So low as to be a threat? Made all the more obvious by the way Felix pauses to dig his finger that much deeper, forcing Sylvain to lift his chin, to tilt his head back.] If you want our fourth kiss to be your last.
[Force him to say kiss one more time and he might just leave this mortal coil; force him to acknowledge our anything and he definitely will, because listen: he is only one emotionally repressed man.]
[ and that wicked smile sylvain had worn last night was back in response to felix's reaction, staring down the bridge of his nose at the other. it's not like he actually would, after all - not because he's worried about keeping up appearances, but rather he knows that felix has always been a particularly private person, and what made him comfortable? that was more important than anything else. ]
But, I suppose I can restrain myself and find somewhere else terrible to do it. The sauna? The library? The professor's office? The possibilities are endless.
[ of course he's kidding, but ever since they were kids, it had been a favourite past-time of his to wind felix up. when sylvain's met with that defiant gaze and a cutting comment, it somehow only endears felix more to him in some strange way. raising a hand, he gently takes felix's fingers in his and pulls the other's hand the slightest bit away from his chin, mostly just so he could get a good look at felix's face again. if they were going to ride this weird new rollercoaster together, sylvain was going to enjoy the view - and that much is written over his expression as he draws felix's hand up towards his lips, placing a soft kiss on top of his knuckles. ]
I'll workshop the idea. [ a brief pause, as the pad of his thumb brushes over the section of skin he'd just grazed with his mouth. ] Anyway, I guess we should decide where we're going from here. Could I take you to dinner in town this week? I promise I'll only cause a moderate scene.
[ a surprisingly mature question from someone with a reputation for childishness - perhaps there was hope for sylvain, after all. perhaps, after all these years and the realities of war, he'd grown up a little. ]
[Oh, hardy-har-har. Hilarious suggestions, all of them, hence the narrowing of Felix's gaze, the click of Felix's tongue. Sylvain is, once again, attempting to elicit a particular reaction, and Felix is, once again, determined to deny him the pleasure. He might die in the process, mind melting as his traitorous mind imagines what it would be like to kiss Sylvain in such stupid, stupid places, but at least he will die with a scowl on his face, dignity more or less intact.
But leave it to Sylvain to up the ante! Leave it to Sylvain to look right down at him before pressing a kiss to his hand, which—it's such a small thing, compared to Sylvain pinning him to the floor. The chastest possible gesture, and yet Sylvain's lips—which are far softer than they have any right to be—send a spark of electricity racing straight down his arm, short-circuiting his brain. It's like being hit by an expertly cast Thoron? Felix can only stand there, dumbly, as what feels like every exposed inch of skin warms to an uncomfortable degree. His hand...
...Well. It's like this, then: Felix is coming to terms with the fact that Sylvain may be his greatest weakness; now Felix also has to come to terms with the fact that his greatest weakness can exploit his many other weaknesses, and oh, the world is suddenly a much more dangerous place. Sylvain could ask him anything while kissing his hand, working down to his wrist, to his forearm—and Felix knows, in this moment, that he would be but putty in Sylvain's hands. It's pathetic. He's pathetic. Sylvain doesn't play fair.
And Felix doesn't pull his hand away, even as he glances off to the side for the umpteenth time. He's somewhat dazed, focusing on nothing as his heart stutters in his chest; that doesn't mean he's going to be any more agreeable.]
This isn't— [Hmm.] You don't have to court me.
[Courting. Ha! Never mind the fact that some part of Felix wouldn't necessarily mind that; that is a deep something to unpack at a later time, but it's certainly why he unconsciously shifts his weight from one leg to the other before hurrying along.]
So if you're planning to make any sort of scene, it's better to stay here. In the stables, even. [A huff!] It isn't about where we go.
[As long as there aren't... a dozen people watching... you know, just ask him again, he's being his Softly Tsun Self™.]
I know I don't have to. I just thought I'd like to.
[ there'd been many times sylvain had dragged felix and their other friends into town for drinks, food and merriment - but this was different. look, sylvain's acutely aware he's been down this road many times before, getting into bad habits with courting dates and, well... the reputation he'd built himself? he doesn't want to do this wrong. even if it made little sense for two friends who'd known each other for decades to go to dinner together yet again, sylvain didn't want to rush anything, skip anything.
he wanted to get it right, for once - this, more than anything. ]
Would you say yes if I promised not to make a scene at all? It's a difficult sell, but I'm willing to compromise.
[ it's so odd, because their friendship had always fit them like a well-worn glove - they'd always just slotted into each other in a way that worked as companions, both of them making up for the other's weaknesses and complementing their strengths. while it didn't feel like too much had really changed since last night but the level of awkwardness between them, there was still this strange 'new' feeling of finding out this different side to someone you'd known all your life.
there's still that mischievous gleam in sylvain's eyes as felix's gaze darts off to the side, giving him the encouragement to torment him further - it's not like the heat in felix's cheeks escapes his notice. turning the pale, lithe hand he was holding over, the redhead ducks his head again to place another feather-soft kiss on the inside of felix's wrist. ]
[There's only one answer to this question. Felix knows it, and yet Felix steadfastly refuses to look back Sylvain's way, choosing instead to focus on, like, a plain ol' bucket as he listens to Sylvain carry on. A difficult sell, huh. Sure. That's every bit as performative as Felix glaring at an inanimate object, and thus Felix decides to continue glaring at an inanimate object for the foreseeable future. He is seriously weighing the pros and cons of this potential dinner, thank you. He is Thinking.
Until, of course, he once again isn't Thinking at all—and he really should have seen this coming. Really. Sylvain is nothing if not clever—but Felix is nothing if not a fool, in this moment, as he whips his head back around, sucking in a sharp breath as he takes in the surprising sight of Sylvain's lips pressed to his wrist? Sly eyes meeting his over top his curled fingers, and Felix suddenly feels like some small animal caught in a trap. He wants to flee, but he's frozen; he wants to hide his reaction(s) by lashing out, knowing full well that revealing weakness here is every bit as disastrous as revealing weakness in the midst of a spar, but there's no stopping that shiver from snaking down his spine. Felix is... oddly vulnerable, in this moment. Exposed in a way only Sylvain could—can—pick up on.
But he's back to himself soon enough, mouth twisting into a frown.]
Good. Perhaps you'll drown, [he snips, far too affected by that kiss to sound unaffected.] Save me the trouble.
[It's unkind. Felix knows it, and yet this is how Felix is when he's backed into a corner? On the attack—but as Felix attempts, weakly, to pull his hand free before Sylvain undoes him completely, Felix decides to throw Sylvain the tiniest bone. Ignore what he said before, buddy; focus on the single word that is:]
...Fine.
[He'll go! He'll go, and he'll enjoy himself, and maybe by the end of the evening, some traitorous part of him whispers, Sylvain will kiss his wrist once again.]
[ sylvain shoots back easily, unfazed by felix's somewhat threatening musing. he's maybe just a little disappointed at the hand pulling free of his, but the redhead lets it go without any fuss, still corralled strictly by those warring voices in his head demanding equally that he take things slow and take everything, now. it's exhausting, trying to do the right thing, but sylvain's decided to err on the side of caution going forward into this? it's so new and fragile, he doesn't want to step over the bounds he usually charges right past.
sylvain does, however, grin charmingly at felix's somewhat reluctant acceptance of his invitation. getting felix to agree to shenanigans had always been a matter of simply wearing him down, and it was comforting to know that hadn't changed. ]
It's a date, then! I'll have you home by your curfew.
[ more prodding, but only because it's so, so satisfying to watch felix squirm underneath these new pressures - the touching, the kissing, the courting. sylvain sees a lot more thrills in his future thanks to these new abilities he's been given, and he looks forward to exploiting all of them.
distantly hearing some shifting behind him, he remembers why he'd been down here in the first place - looking after the other old friend behind him - and sylvain half-turns to give the horse's snout a reassuring pat before fiddling with the stable door lock to let himself out. he'd been all but finished when felix had shown up anyway, more killing time down here than doing anything truly productive - and it was so hard to properly torment felix from behind a stable gate.
shutting it behind him, he tries not to notice how close they were now, though felix's proximity had been somewhat maddening for some time before the culmination of last night's events. it sends his mind many places, most inappropriate for a, uh, workplace situation. to try and distract himself, sylvain lets out a positively massive yawn, arms stretching above his head as he makes a great show of supposed fatigue. ]
So, what are you up to for the rest of the day? I'm thinking I'm gonna go for a nap. [ a pause, as he takes inventory of the dull thud that was still banging on in the back of his head. ] Maybe two naps.
[Sylvain is lucky that stall door is still between them when he decides to tease Felix, because Goddess knows Felix feels the sudden urge to stomp on Sylvain's foot. Something for Felix to focus on other than the hand he promptly places on his hip, which—oh, it's stupid. It is, and yet, as Felix watches Sylvain bid farewell to the horse, Felix is very much aware of the precise place Sylvain pressed his last kiss. It's as though he's been branded? Marked in some invisible way, and he wonders, dimly, if he'll feel Sylvain's lips just above his pulse point for the remainder of the day.
...He'll go mad. Or maybe he's already gone mad, because Sylvain steps out from the stall and Felix's eyes drift to his shoulders, watching muscles bunch as Sylvain raises his arms. They've spent years alongside one another; Felix has seen Sylvain in every state imaginable, and yet Felix kisses Sylvain three (3) times and it's as if he's never seen Sylvain before in his life. Ridiculous. Obviously this is Sylvain's fault; obviously he must pay, if Felix can manage to pull himself together. Two naps! Felix manages an incredulous snort, at least, but let it be known that he briefly imagines curling up together once more, Sylvain's arm a comfortable weight draped over his—
—no? No. Felix shoves the thought from his mind, because the things Sylvain is doing to him? Unbelievable. He's keeping a list of offenses that Sylvain will answer for.]
As lazy as ever. Some of us have training to attend to. [Chores to complete, mages to accidentally annoy in the greenhouse. You know! The usual, hence Felix's pause as he manages to tear his eyes from Sylvain's shoulders long enough to give the man a brief, artfully uninterested once-over.] Next you'll say you expect dinner to be carried to you.
[Felix would do it, just as an excuse to slip into Sylvain's room at a later point. Felix is, in fact, offering to do it, in his roundabout way—but Sylvain should prepare himself for copious amounts of Rudeness.]
Look, I did some chores today. Considering how I felt when I woke up, I'm going to count that as an overwhelming success.
[ though, sure, he was excellent at weaseling out of things he didn't particularly enjoy. looking after his mount was one of the few chores sylvain looked forward to, but when it came to maintaining the monastery grounds or guard duty, the enthusiasm was much more difficult to find. plus, sylvain's almost certain that some of the other blue lions were feeling equally as trash as he was today - perhaps they hadn't drunk as much as he'd ended up having, but they were also much smaller. well, most of them.
and then felix makes the classic mistake of giving him an inch, a grin spreading across sylvain's face as he feels felix's eyes wander over him. that in itself sends an electric feeling down his spine, because despite this being a fairly common occurrence among the adoring public, it had never felt so real and welcome as it does now, those ruby eyes raking down his body.
perhaps he should forgo the nap, and go straight to the cold bath. ]
Oh? Are you offering me room service?
[ voice dripping with mischief and more than a little hint of innuendo - sylvain can't help himself, because cornering felix is too fun - sylvain takes a half-step closer to the other, long arms snaking around felix's hips and linking up at the small of his back. ]
[It's a brief look, meant to tell Sylvain that he's been judged and come up wanting? Or, well. That was its original purpose, before Felix's gaze lingered just a bit longer than it necessarily should—and that isn't his fault. It isn't. Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of Sylvain's Offenses, right above Sylvain slipping arms about his waist with practiced ease. As though he has the right...
Or: They're very close now, and Felix is all too aware of it as he tilts his head back, fixing Sylvain with the sharpest look he can muster. He wants to be annoyed, given that Sylvain breezed into his bubble with absolutely no concern whatsoever; he is annoyed, to a degree, and yet it pales in comparison to the realization that Sylvain's hands fit surprisingly well where they are.]
I didn't offer.
[He did. They both know that he did, just like they both know there's no reason for Felix to bring a hand to Sylvain's chest, grabbing onto his shirt much like he did the night before. So much of this is like the night before, actually. The closeness. The warmth. Sylvain pushing Felix's buttons.]
I'll bring you a dish you hate, [is the best threat he can think of—and what's sad is that this dumb attempt actually requires brainpower? A good deal of it. He's so focused on being contrary in this moment that he pays no mind to the fact that he is attempting to tug Sylvain down to him.] Fish skewers. Something disgusting.
You could bring me a bowl of dog food, but you'd still be bringing you with it. I win either way.
[ one scenario sure ends in more hunger than the other, but felix is the draw, not the food. sylvain had long given up actually experiencing any 'honeymoon' period in a relationship - none of them had been real, all of it for show and cheap thrills. so experiencing one now was quite disconcerting for him, being so acutely aware of felix's presence, of his own desire to spend as much time as possible with someone he'd already spent more time with than anyone else in his life. the emotion tasted strange in his mouth and was plainly overwhelming to someone who'd always run as fast as he could from genuine affection - but sylvain wants to get used to this.
he could get used to the way felix scowls back at him, pretending to be thoroughly done with his cheap shots; the way his long fingers instinctively sought out his shirt; the faint blush that creeps into felix's cheeks when sylvain tests their new boundaries. he looks forward to getting used to it, because - well, this is better than he'd felt in some considerable time. ]
So, when will you drop by? Four, five in the evening? I'm easy.
[ a rueful grin is shot felix's way before sylvain tightens his linked arms just a fraction, pulling the other a maddening inch closer to him. their faces are so close, sylvain can feel felix's breath heat his lips, doing absolutely nothing to quell the racing of his heart.
what a scene someone could walk into right now, if either of them were thinking of that. whew. ]
[Oh, that line is cheesy. It absolutely is, and yet it still manages to strike right at Felix's core, a sort of, mmm, tiny arrow pinging right off his heart. It's nice, the notion that he's wanted—especially given that Felix knows Sylvain well enough to recognize the undercurrent of honesty, to recognize that Sylvain does, in fact, want him. That in and of itself isn't new, really; Sylvain has always been the one person who's consistently seen Felix as Felix, simply Felix, and yet, given new light...
...Hmm. Felix rolls his eyes, sure, but Felix still cants his head, his own heart pounding in his chest as his eyes drop to Sylvain's grin. Terrible. Felix very much wants to go back to Sylvain's room right now, and not to—well, he wouldn't be opposed, but it's more about spending time with Sylvain in a nice, quiet place? Talking and teasing and figuring out how close is too close, if that's even a possibility. It isn't like Felix knows. He's let so few people touch him, over the years; maybe Sylvain's touch will become overwhelming at some point, but for now Felix thinks of Sylvain's lips, raising himself just high enough to murmur against them.]
Far later than five. I'm not going to rush through anything for—
[—your sake, obviously, but that sure is a loud bang behind him? The sound of someone dropping something onto the ground, and as Felix whips his head about—probably whacking Sylvain in the face with his stupid ponytail, so sorry—that sure is Ingrid he spies, standing above a bucket that's presumably full of something. He can't quite make out her expression? It's, like, half-disapproving, half-something else entirely, and yet, before he can even think to snap at her, she turns away with a shake of her head. Was that a muttered fragment of a sentence... something, something, about time, perhaps...
...Mysterious. Truly. Plenty for Felix to puzzle over as he stands there, hold on Sylvain's shirt tightening as he watches her walk away. He needs a second to reboot.]
[ felix might be a private person about his relationships, but sylvain is decidedly not - so when ingrid wanders into the stables and catches them in each other's arms, felix's lips brushing against his, he's decidedly less surprised about it. in fact, once she takes her leave again, muttering some undoubtedly mothering quip, sylvain turns back towards felix and after catching a glimpse of his expression, the redhead just... laughs.
he doesn't relinquish his hold on felix, but the entire situation is just so comedic that sylvain can't help himself, letting out a hearty, amused laugh that he just can't keep contained even though he knows he's probably going to end up with a sword inserted into him for doing so. so, ingrid knows. who cares? given her uncanny ability to know what him, felix or dimitri were thinking before they were even thinking it themselves, sylvain doubts that it's come at any surprise to her.
okay. done laughing. idly, he notices felix has yet to respond, his fingers so tightly bunched in his shirt that his knuckles were almost going white - no doubt a stressful situation for him, but an extremely amusing one for sylvain. peering into felix's face, the redhead grins knowingly; ]
Hey. You doing alright?
[ and something tells him he should probably be a bit more diplomatic, considering how hilarious he's found this. ]
Look, it's Ingrid. She probably knew before we did.
[Sylvain deserves a kick to the shin for that laugh, but Felix can't quite manage it? Felix can't quite manage it even when Sylvain settles down, because it's—the fact that Ingrid saw them isn't what matters, really. It could have been Annette, for all Felix cares. Ashe! Even Dimitri. They're all the same, in the end, because what matters is that... sense of control that's been stripped away. Felix isn't ashamed of, or embarrassed about, anything he chooses to do; on some base level, he just prefers to decide how and when it's presented to the world.
But now it's out there. So what? It's not like it changes anything Felix feels, or Felix wants; it's not like there was anything to be done about it then, and it's not like there's anything to do about it now, but Felix still feels... disgruntled. Mildly. He's never liked surprises, after all, and it all goes back to that need to be in control.]
Stop trying to... comfort me, [he all but spits out, albeit with more force than actual heat.] I don't need it.
[He's very cool, thanks. Very tough. It's why he smoothly twists free of Sylvain's grasp, shooting him a Look even as he immediately misses his warmth, immediately mourns the kiss-that-wasn't. That, at least, is fixable; it would be the simplest thing in the world to pull Sylvain down for their fourth full kiss, but Felix's stubborn pride gets in the way? Sends him brushing right past Sylvain, instead—and that companionable bump of their arms should let Sylvain know he isn't in too much trouble. Felix is just back to being prickly! A shocked hedgehog curling into a little ball once more.]
You can answer her questions. Perhaps I'll even tell her to bring your dinner.
[He won't. Ingrid would probably tell him that she is not getting involved in a lovers' quarrel or something equally as ridiculous, so—farewell for now, Sylvain! Felix is off to do Felix-y things for the remainder of the afternoon, most of which involve him smacking things with his sword. It's quite therapeutic; it definitely puts him in a better mood by the time he shows up to Sylvain's door just a tad after five, a covered bowl of spicy fish and turnip stew in hand—and a few still-warm sweet buns tucked into his pocket, neatly wrapped in a napkin by Mercedes' capable hands. The things Felix does for Sylvain...
...Anyway, he's here, and you bet he's going to kick at the door for a moment before actually opening it (with or without an invitation). Hi, hello, delivery...]
[ for a few minutes after felix had left the stables in a fluster, sylvain felt bad - an entirely new feeling for his fledgling sense of empathy. while he wasn't particularly concerned about ingrid's interruption, sylvain is acutely aware his personality was a very different beast to felix's; always had been. ever since they were kids, sylvain was the one to gloat and flaunt things, while felix had been reserved and thoughtful, and honestly? not much had changed over those two decades. so, for the first time in his romantic life, the redhead kicks around the stables for a bit longer wondering what to do, mostly muttering to his horse, caligo, as if he'd somehow be able to respond with sound and reasonable advice, and keeping busy with other menial chores he didn't really have to do because procrastination is always the right choice. spoiler; it wasn't.
eventually sylvain just gives up, the pounding headache and overly eventful morning far too much for such a simple creature. if there's one thing he could make good on for the day, it was his promise of having at the very minimum one nap - so after washing up from the stables, he ends up right back in his dormitory room, face-first collapsing into the bed. who knew that genuine caring could be so exhausting, and why did no-one ever see fit to warn him? these and other assorted thoughts courtesy of sylvain falling into a deep hangover-fueled sleep.
somewhat later, he's not so much startled out of his slumber (sylvain's always been a disgustingly heavy sleeper) as slightly disturbed, the thumping against his door and the rattling of the wood in the frame as someone - is someone kicking it?? - causing him to roll over on to his side and let out a loud groan.
it's quite a sight, actually, the future of house gautier draped messily over his bed in a way that should be questionable in terms of comfort, shirt undone except for three, four? buttons, and hair even more chaotic than it usually was.
when the door kicking ends up in door opening, the hinges screeching do a little something to wake him up a little further, brown eyes cracking open slightly to see felix... upside down. it takes a few moments for the hamster wheel to start turning again before sylvain fully comes back to earth, a sleepy but still frustratingly coy grin tugging at his lips as he realises the situation. ]
Hello, beautiful.
[ barely awake sylvain seems to have even less of a filter than alert sylvain, unfortunately. stifling a yawn, his eyes dart to the window and realises it's dark now - a bonus, arguably, that he'd managed to sleep the rest of the day away and expedite seeing felix again. hold on-- ]
[Felix is well and truly over the... earlier awkwardness. He's been over it, actually, because that's the beauty of growing older: he's become even better at channeling his, ah, frustrations into more productive avenues, to let some of his inherent pissiness go. Academy-era Felix would have undoubtedly spent all afternoon at the training grounds; this Felix, however, only spent two or so hours there before wandering away to see to other tasks. Progress.
So he's thinking of nothing in particular as he steps into Sylvain's room, and maybe that's his greatest mistake to date. Thinking of nothing means that there's nothing to distract him from the sight of Sylvain sprawled atop his bed, messy in the best possible ways. And Felix knows, in this moment, that this is Sylvain's, like, Goddess-granted gift? Felix waking up from a nap is a mess of tangled hair, shirt sticking to him in the most uncomfortable manner, but Sylvain looks... unfairly good. Annoyingly good. The training grounds call to Felix once more.
But Felix manages, somehow, to tear his eyes away from Sylvain, kicking the door closed behind him after Sylvain offers him that ridiculous greeting. Beautiful. Sylvain, Felix decides, is a much better kisser than he is a conversationalist, and that has nothing at all to do with the way Sylvain's words affect him. So stupid.]
Dog food? [His best attempt at a cool, calm tone as he walks across the room to Sylvain's desk. Hmm.] Perhaps.
[Jokes! Throwing Sylvain's earlier words right back in his face! Except that it's Dedue's cooking in the bowl Felix sets atop a neat stack of books, of course, so it's a meal well and truly fit for a king. Sylvain should consider himself lucky? Especially as Felix reaches into his pocket for those sweet buns, calling back to Sylvain as he sets the cutely tied package right beside the bowl.]
See for yourself.
[Climb out of bed and eat your dinner, lazybones.]
[ he could crawl off the bed and inspect it, but sylvain's a big enough fan of food that he can tell simply by the smell that it's not dog food - no, it's something delicious, and almost on cue, an audible rumble growls from his stomach. ]
Wait, I didn't think you'd actually bring dinner.
[ and honestly, sylvain didn't? things had ended on an awkward note, and felix had seem perturbed enough about the whole interruption that he hadn't expected him to bother. but he's very open to welcoming being wrong in this circumstance, and to that end, the redhead rolls over so he's the right way up again, swinging his legs around to the side of the bed. it takes him a minute to reorient himself, smooth the artful mess of his hair back down (it doesn't work), and glance from felix to the uncharacteristically adorable package sitting next to the bowl on his desk.
he's suddenly, strangely, overcome by a warm feeling at the rather selfless gesture, so reminiscent of similar things felix had done for him many times before over the years - and it's just quite a strong reminder for a still sleep-addled brain of just how much sylvain treasures their relationship, whatever that was now. treasures him. and to that end, his expression softens somewhat as he draws himself up, stretching like a cat to appear unaffected. always play it straight. never show a weakness, even though this - these feelings - are in no way a weakness. something he's still working on. ]
And how was the rest of your day? Did you get to stab anything new?
[ sylvain inquires, moving over towards felix and the bounty that the desk held. it doesn't take him long to pick up the bowl and begin inhaling the contents, leaning against the table standing up because, 1.) who has time to sit down to eat dinner, and 2.) why would he do anything that doesn't involve looking at felix, when he's got the privilege of having him alone to himself in his own room? the view, and the potential of the situation, were two things that sylvain greatly appreciates in this moment.
there's a muffled but genuine thank you as he starts to eat, half-silenced by the spoon in his mouth. ]
[It's true that Felix didn't, like, outright tell Sylvain he'd bring him dinner, but Felix still huffs out a breath, turning to shoot Sylvain a Look. It was implied, surely. Understood. Felix wasn't going to let Sylvain skip two meals and then feel very, very sorry for himself—but it's difficult to reach for those sharp words as he watches Sylvain slip to his feet, watches Sylvain stretch in a most obscene manner. Or, well. There's nothing at all obscene about it; it's nothing Felix hasn't seen many times before, and yet it's almost as though Felix is seeing Sylvain in an entirely new way? Or maybe he's always seen Sylvain like this—always been aware that Sylvain is attractive—but is just now allowing himself to accept it. So many others have—
—well. That's the crux of the matter: so many others have all but fallen over themselves for Sylvain, lured in by his Crest, his easy-going demeanor, his looks, and Felix never wanted to be one of them. Felix knows what it's like to be seen as something else, after all—and no, of course it isn't the same; of course people viewing Felix as a (poor) substitute for Glenn is not the same as people viewing Sylvain as, like, an easy ticket to a better life, but Felix refused to add to that... burden. Sylvain was—is—simply Sylvain, to Felix? A fool and a scoundrel and his closest friend.
And now Felix's attention is focused solely on Sylvain as he crosses the room to grab his dinner, because it's the look on Sylvain's face as much as it is his stupid hair, or the skin exposed by his stupid shirt, or the way he digs into the stew with reckless abandon. Felix is rarely selfish, but in this moment, Felix wants nothing more than to swat that bowl from Sylvain's hands and kiss him, claim his undivided attention for the rest of the night. It's awful. Felix is awful, and thus Felix awkwardly clears his throat.]
No. [Now it's Felix's turn to look to the windows, crossing his arms as he notes the last vestiges of light in the sky.] But the day isn't over yet.
[Hilarious, and made all the better by the stretch of silence that follows. He's giving Sylvain a chance to eat, he tells himself. That's all. It definitely isn't that he has no idea of what to say in this moment—but he settles for something simple soon enough. An excuse to once again glance over at a perfectly mussed Sylvain.]
...I take it you're feeling better. You certainly slept long enough.
[Or so he assumes? Who knows what Sylvain was up to.]
[ it doesn't take long at all for the stew to entirely disappear into him, a habit he'd learned from eating anything on the road near ingrid. placing the bowl back down on top of his desk, sylvain's attention is drawn once more to the nicely wrapped package that had arrived alongside dinner - and curiosity wins the better of him, pulling at the string to reveal the sweet buns that laid in wait inside. there's an almost childish delight that crosses his face as he takes one, and immediately stuffs it in his mouth, the bread also disappearing in a matter of seconds into the void. despite the everything that had happened the past two days, this interaction felt so comfortable. normal, but... different.
felix was here pretending to be standoffish but actually just ending up being really sweet, sylvain was devouring everything in sight while half undressed, and, well? that checks out for their history, actually. ]
Much better. I only fit the one nap in, but the headache from His Highness' poison has disappeared so I'm going to count that as a win.
[ they're at right angles to each other as he lounges against the desk, the room cast in the warm light of dusk and the last rays of sun. it's picturesque. strangely cozy. and felix only looks more beautiful in this moment, though sylvain isn't quite sure how that's possible.
it's then he realises there's a noticeable coating of sugar on his lips from the bun, and while he subconsciously swipes his tongue lazily across them to remove it, it becomes a very conscious movement as he maintains his gaze with those ruby irises as he does so.
that's when it's kind of over for him, really. it only takes one slightly flirtatious move in felix's presence to send his mind absolutely sailing down the gutter, and all of a sudden, sylvain's acutely aware of the long silence stretching out between them, as well as all the ways he'd like to interrupt it. he settles for, strangely, a more genuine way to break it, a grin on his face that's not facetious for once - but rather, one that emanates a warm sense of affection. desire. ]
You are, you know.
[ a pause, that hazel gaze surprisingly intense. ]
[Time ticks past—and there are so many things that Felix could say, given that he's never afraid to express his opinion. He could snap at Sylvain to stop scarfing down his food like an ill-mannered idiot; he could inform Sylvain that Mercedes asked how he was feeling as she set aside the best-looking sweet buns just for him; he could tell Sylvain that one long nap is the same as two or more shorter naps; he could mutter something about napkins as he watches Sylvain lick the sugar from his lips, but it's as though speaking requires something Felix does not currently possess. And maybe that's for the best? The food has been delivered, after all, and Sylvain is clearly fine; there's no real reason for Felix to stay.
But he wants to, is the thing. He very much wants to, especially as Sylvain offers him a grin so promising it sends his pulse quickening. Ah. It's why he finds himself focusing on the corner of Sylvain's mouth while Sylvain speaks, noting the bit of sugar that he didn't—couldn't?—quite reach. There, perhaps, is a reason to stay, if he needs one—but then Sylvain's words actually reach him, slightly delayed by such a stupid thing, and his eyes flick right back up to Sylvain's. A second of study, followed by an oh-so quiet huff when he can't find a hint of dishonesty.]
And you're ridiculous.
[Grumbled words entirely without heat? Something to say at last as he uncrosses his arms, hesitating for a moment before turning to take a purposeful step closer. He looks... the same as always, really. A little redder in the face, perhaps, but his expression is measured, almost determined.]
Don't try to flatter me, [he says, simply, as he brings his hands up, fingers settling lightly atop—framing—Sylvain's jaw.] It won't work.
What if I told you it wasn't flattery? Just an observation.
[ even on the off-chance felix had tried to leave, sylvain would've argued - it's weird to think this way, but it felt like they'd missed out on time already despite having been best friends for the better part of their lives, so why would he waste more now? that's why he looks very much pleased as felix comes closer, places his fingers feather-light on sylvain's face which is cruelly deceptive for someone he knows could hand his ass to him in a matter of seconds. his friend, always a bewildering combination of night and day - tender yet guarded, gentle yet strong, passionate yet prickly.
an almost magnetic force draws sylvain's hands to the sides of felix's hips, the proximity just a little too much to resist for someone who historically already has trouble keeping to himself. hooking his thumbs over the top tan belt, sylvain's obviously looking to cause problems on purpose - felix's jacket was nice, yes, but it hid the jut of his waist, the flat muscles of his stomach... unfair, really, considering sylvain was largely on display right now.
purposefully, boldly, the redhead uses the leverage from the belt to tug him an inch closer with a wicked grin on his face. ]
Like we established yesterday, I know better than to lie to you. You know I'm telling the truth, don't you?
[ he's a shameless flirt, but there's this odd sense of pride, of warmth when he manages to make felix squirm and blush. their faces are only a couple of inches apart now, and sylvain turns his head just a fraction into felix's left palm, his lips very much intentionally brushing against the calloused skin while he maintains that gaze. ]
[Ah, but that's the thing: Felix does know that Sylvain is telling the truth. The truth as he sees it, anyway, and yet, as Felix feels Sylvain's hands curl about his waist, Felix thinks... of a spar. Those times where he forgoes feints in favor of a more, mmm, straightforward approach, just when his opponent thinks they have him all figured out. They expect his well-telegraphed move to be a trick, and thus he surprises them with the complete opposite. It's very satisfying.
And Felix is sure that Sylvain doesn't see this as any sort of spar, or game, or anything even remotely similar—but Felix is sure that he knows exactly what he's doing as he says such sappy (in Felix's opinion, anyway) things? As he looks Felix dead in the eye while pressing a not-quite-kiss to his palm, because that... is a dirty trick that sends a shiver racing through him. Felix is defenseless, in this moment; Felix is all but laid bare, his body telling Sylvain what Felix will not, cannot, say. If Sylvain were to continue right along—
—but he did so in the stables? And Felix thinks, once again, of a spar, of the importance of catching one's opponent off guard—but above that, Felix blinks back at Sylvain and thinks of how badly he wants him. Him. This fool with a bit of sugar still clinging to his lips, and Felix leans forward before he can think better of it, a disgruntled little noise escaping him just before he licks at the corner of Sylvain's mouth. It's only sugar; he hates it, true, but it has no right to shock his tongue like it does, that spark of electricity buzzing through his jaw. Alchemy...]
You are ridiculous, [he mutters, waspishly, against Sylvain's lips, fingers pressing that much more firmly against his jawline.] Just—keep your observations to yourself.
[Shut up, because Felix's eyes are closed, and his face is hot, and both his heart and his mind are racing as he hovers too close, but not close enough.]
[ the grin is still clear in his voice, though his words are little more than a murmur against the brush of felix's lips. the swipe of felix's tongue against the corner of his mouth had put absolutely carnal thoughts in his head, his bare fingers tightening around where they were curled on the belt at felix's waist. the leather almost creaked - because even though they'd been this close, kissed, touched the other night, somehow this was so much different. they were sober, for one, but doing this seriously as something they both wanted in the long-term? it was an alien feeling, and one much more heady than sylvain had expected it could be.
looking over hooded lashes to see felix's eyes closed, his cheeks flushed - in that moment, sylvain feels a strange sort of thrill pool inside him. that he had this effect on felix, that he could do this to him, the one that he'd wanted for probably longer than he realised. ]
You're gonna have to put up with it, unfortunately. [ his tone is deep, husky - one that betrays everything he's feeling and thinking right now. ] There's so many things I need to remind you of - like how attractively fearsome you are when you're holding a sword, or how sinful you look in those black leggings.
[ to punctuate his point, sylvain closes the scant gap between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss - much more gentle than anything that had happened on felix's floor last night. it's sweet and comforting, everything that sylvain pretends not to be, but what he'd reveal to give the one person who deserved it. it's also hard not to immediately drown into felix, and the restraint sylvain is exercising is fairly immense at this point, betrayed only by him deepening the kiss for a fraction of a second by swiping his tongue across felix's before pulling away for a breath. ]
[Felix has carefully cataloged his weaknesses throughout the years; the only way to grow stronger, he knows, is to do his absolute best to overcome them, but not once did he consider that a person could have such an effect on him. Oh, there's Dimitri, of course; no one makes him quite as angry, makes him feel quite as helpless, as his oldest friend, and yet that is—hmm. That is a deep-seated frustration that makes him want to retreat into himself; this is an odd buzz just beneath his skin that urges him forward, past the carefully kept walls of his own making. Maybe, just maybe, it's okay to want. To need. To rely on—to trust—this particular person in this particular sense, because it's been so very, very long since he's allowed himself to be vulnerable in any sense of the word.
...He wonders how long it's been for Sylvain, then. If Sylvain finds this every bit as difficult as he does, despite the, ah, practiced ease with which Sylvain fires back—but there were those awkward moments in the stable, weren't there? And there's this kiss, which starts so gently, so considerately. So honestly. Felix senses it, somehow, and maybe that shouldn't be a surprise; he's always been good at pointing out when Sylvain is putting on a show, and yet the press of Sylvain's lips against his doesn't feel anything like a performance. Sylvain is going about this... carefully.
And that's good, Felix knows, even as he cracks open his eyes the second Sylvain breaks away, that odd buzz pushing him to be reckless. Sylvain's shirt is still undone; Felix's gaze slides to his lips, to his throat, to the hollows just above his collarbones.]
You never know when to shut up.
[Words with bite, perhaps, but no real heat. Felix knows how to shut Sylvain up, now; he'll take full advantage of this new tactic as often as he needs to, but he pulls a hand free from Sylvain's face, slipping it down to gently grasp the wrist of the hand gripping his belt far too tightly. He's suddenly all too aware of his many, many layers? And he could shove Sylvain away to peel them off himself, sure, and yet, despite the way he lifts his chin, clearly angling for another kiss as quickly as possible—]
Unbuckle it before you ruin it, [he directs, allowing it to hanf between them before deliberately dragging his gaze back up to meet Sylvain's.] I don't have time to repair whatever you might ruin.
[Whatever. It implies more than a single belt buckle, more than his sword belt—but Goddess forbid Felix come right out and say such a thing, even though he wants nothing more than to shed his cape and his coat.]
[ he responds, flashing felix a smirk in return to the pointed barb - hits that never seemed to land on sylvain, not that he thinks felix would even want them to. just one of the various ways they were so used to each other, comfortable with the way they communicated, because felix could be as prickly enough to scare off even the toughest of the blue lions and it'd still never drive sylvain away.
the redhead hesitates for a second as he feels long, cool fingers grasp his wrist - as much as he was skilled at reading a room, sylvain's dimly aware that y'know, this is still new, still fresh, maybe felix doesn't want him to put something into motion he can't stop - but then felix speaks, and honestly, sylvain needs no more encouragement.
looking down his nose at felix's face tilted up towards his own, that stoic look ever just barely slipping as felix insinuates something sylvain would never expect to leave his mouth, his expression is an equal mix of fondness and mischief as he happily does what he's told in not so many words. there had been many years between them of reading through the lines, and that was only going to continue to work in his favour, it seemed. ]
So rude, to insinuate I don't know my own strength.
[ sylvain replies with a grin, loosing felix's grip on his wrist so he could slide his fingers around the belt buckle at the other's waist instead. with a smooth movement, he pulls felix just an inch closer to him with the purchase he has on the leather, making quick work of that belt - and the next one, and the next one. felix certainly didn't wear clothes with ease of removal in mind. ]
Luckily, I do.
[ and among the distant clatter of felix's belts falling to the floor, including the one holding his sword and scabbard, sylvain's bare hands reach up towards the v of his coat instead. the clasps there are fucking fiddly so it takes sylvain more time than he'd like to methodically undo them - a perfect time to duck his head towards felix's once more, meeting his lips in a much more powerful, claiming kiss. ]
[Felix's, ah, choice of words aside, he wouldn't trust Sylvain with such a task if he doubted Sylvain were up to it—and of course Sylvain is. Of course he pulls Felix closer, deft fingers undoing buckle after buckle, and Felix feels a thrill race through him as he slips his hands atop Sylvain's shoulders. It doesn't matter how they spend the remainder of their evening, truth be told, because Felix holds little stock in honor; he has none left to protect, but while the thought of Sylvain pressing him to the mattress is a good one, so, too, is the thought of Sylvain simply holding him, both of them murmuring between slow, deep kisses. If this is real—which Felix thinks that it is—then there's no real hurry.
But while Felix knows they've plenty of time, Felix's infamous impatience soon rears its ugly head, made all the worse by Sylvain's forceful kiss. The sound of his sword hitting the floor is but a secondary concern; it's endured far worse, Felix knows, and thus Felix surges upward, shrugging off his coat even as he pulls Sylvain's bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it to tenderness. It's easy, losing himself in this. The room falls away around them, Felix giving it little to no thought as he steers Sylvian backwards, pushes him against the wall before dropping his mouth to the line of his jaw, the pulse point of his throat. He remembers being mesmerized by the open collar of Sylvain's shirt the night before? It's much the same now as it was then, except that now Felix can drag his teeth over the exposed flesh, shivering, ever so lightly, before he presses closer, sucking a bruise to the unmarred surface. Saints. He wants to leave a trail of marks here; he wants to turn Sylvain's throat all sorts of colors, but—]
Sylvain—
[It's a little like a kid eating too much candy at once? Felix needs to pause, nosing into the crook of Sylvain's neck as a surprisingly quiet sigh escapes him. It feels good to be stripped to his turtleneck, his stupid bishop-sleeved overshirt—but he still feels overheated, for whatever reason. Overwhelmed. He can't recall the last time he wanted anything—anyone—this badly.]
At least you picked a better place, this time. [Ah, well. A beat; a heavier breath, puffed against the side of Sylvain's neck, before Felix adds:] To kiss me.
[Remember his half-hearted criticism in the stables?? Of course Felix does—and of course Felix brings it back now, because owning up to shamelessly shoving Sylvain against the wall is! Well! They're here; shut up about it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sylvain sleeps in: the thread
And this, embarrassingly enough, is how a much older Felix wakes, though it takes him a bit longer to get his bearings. It all comes to him by degrees, really. First he's aware of the dim light streaming through his window, letting him know he's slept in an hour or so later than he prefers; then he's aware that the back of his neck is uncomfortably sweaty, long hair sticking to slick skin; then he's aware that the pillow beneath his arm apparently moving of its own accord, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and—ah. Aha. It isn't a pillow at all, he finds. His arm is thrown over Sylvain's bare chest, and his head is nestled atop Sylvain's shoulder, and—
—well. The worst part of it all is that it isn't bad? Felix is perfectly comfortable, aside from being a little too warm—and that, stupidly enough, is what spurs him to carefully disentangle himself, to carefully slip to his feet. Sylvain is as dead to the world as he's ever been, Felix finds. Even after Felix pulls on his clothes and re-ties his hair, Sylvain is still deep asleep.
...Good. Not good? Felix doesn't know, honestly, because while Felix isn't one to sit around and wait for Sylvain to wake up, Felix considers Sylvain waking up alone, feeling... abandoned, or something. Something stupid and silly and not at all accurate, and yet it's still enough for Felix to linger for a few minutes longer, gathering Sylvain's (wrinkled) clothing from the corner to hang over the back of his chair, setting a pitcher of water atop the table closest to the bed, drawing the curtains closed before the light becomes too bright. Small stuff.
But he leaves, eventually. Stops by the kitchens before making his way to the training grounds, because Felix has always best processed things while swinging his sword. It's therapeutic, in a way; it gives him time to think, because no one would ever consider approaching Felix Hugo Fraldarius while he's hacking away at training dummies. It's perfect.
And then it's just, you know. A matter of checking in on his battalion. Discussing strategies with Byleth. Buying time for Sylvain to wake up and dress and move, because Felix isn't planning to avoid anything, or to leave Sylvain alone with his thoughts for too long. That's dangerous.
So when he hears that Sylvain is at the stables, presumably checking in on his horses (and really taking advantage of the darkness within the stables, Felix is willing to bet)—well. Lunch is in, like, thirty minutes, but here Felix is, anyway, leaning over the door to this stall as he watches Sylvain do whatever it is Sylvain does. It's not like he knows; he spends as little time around horses as he possibly can.]
You're alive, I see.
[Sharp eyes skim down Sylvain's form, surveying the general state of him. Good morning, sunshine.]
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there's a meditative quality to doing work in the stables, too - sylvain's always been a fan of horses and horse-riding, often more graceful on the back of one than on his own two feet. it's one of the few times he can actually hear himself think, going through the paces of grooming his mount and maintaining his tack; simple things he could do with his hands that he'd done a hundred times before. that said, the 'hearing' part was going a little tougher today because (aside from the crushing headache) there was a clamour of voices demanding to be heard, asking for answers, a plan of action on how he was going to approach what he'd crashed through last night without any sort of idea where he was going except that it was right. the right thing to do.
although he'd woken up alone, it hadn't actually bothered the redhead that much - in fact, it was almost a blessing. he hadn't figured out what he needed to say yet, and doing so while feeling like something scraped off the bottom of a boot was probably not going to do him any favours. he'd been around felix long enough to know the telltale signs that he hadn't just disappeared - that was sylvain's thing, after all - like his clothes having been straightened out and the very, very welcome jug of water next to the bed, which was decidedly empty now.
he'd needed the extra sleep to regroup, and ever since, he'd been down here, alternating between a welcome calm and a disquieting panic as sylvain slowly came to the sober realisation that he had absolutely no idea how to approach a situation this delicate. it wasn't his strength, being diplomatic - he was blunt, flirtatious, obtuse, but never overly genuine.
that may be why he jumps a little at felix's voice behind him, so engrossed in his self-pitying train of thought that he hadn't heard the other come in. ]
Shit, Felix. [ sylvain turns slightly, one hand dramatically over his heart as he quickly calms down. ] Do you ever make noise when you walk, or were you just born with the power of stealth?
[ he looks a little disheveled, considering the previous night, but at least it seems like he went back to his quarters to clean himself up before coming back out into public. small victories for devil-may-care men. ]
Yes, I'm alive. Somehow. Remind me not to drink anything our king recommends ever again, please? He has terrible taste and I'm not sure how I forgot that.
[ let's avoid the topic!! ]
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But as familiar as Sylvain is—a veritable constant in Felix's life—there is the very real sense that Felix is wading into uncharted waters? That they both are, really, because Felix looks at Sylvain and Felix remembers kissing him, remembers waking up beside him, and that's... those are things that can't be taken back. Those things are there, permanently etched into Felix's memories, and Felix knows that he will never be able to look at Sylvain without facing them full-on. Something has clearly shifted between them, just as Felix thought (feared?) it would.
So what is there to do, other than address it? Oh, he knows Sylvain would rather not; he knows that Sylvain just tossed so many words between them in the vain hope that Felix would seize onto some of them, meander down some stupid conversational avenue, but—no, no. This is Felix, and thus, despite his own uncertainly, Felix stiffly crosses his arms atop the stall door. He's here, you see. He isn't going anywhere, and he certainly isn't going to waste time chatting about his perfectly normal approach. Constant vigilance, sir... get with it...]
You forgot because it was convenient, [is his blunt, somewhat pointed response.] It's a habit of yours.
[Hmm, yes, so this is definitely Pointed, though there's no real force behind his words. Felix clearly isn't out for blood, hence the singular beat that passes before he adds:]
How badly does your head ache?
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[ is his easy reply, seemingly nonplussed by the subtle jab that felix sends his way. at least when he's on the receiving end of felix's criticisms, it's always true? they could certainly get away with saying sharper things to each other than anyone else in their cohort could, simply because their bond was so strong. they were good at sorting out what was jest and what was truth without explicitly saying so, and that had always seemed to work.
now, however... it seemed dangerous that felix could see right through him, when he hadn't even figured anything out for himself yet. but sylvain most definitely wasn't a coward, even if this entire situation made him uncomfortable. it wasn't felix, or what they'd done that was causing him to feel that way - just the weight of responsibility weighing on him, that this wasn't something he wanted to ruin.
turning back to his mount, brush still in hand, he quickly finishes up the last of the grooming while keeping one eye on felix's form draping over the stall door. sylvain's making an effort to show he's not ignoring him, that he's not trying to escape - otherwise, he would've tried hiding better, something he's certainly capable of. ]
I've had worse, but I've also had better.
[ a brief pause as he finishes brushing the horse's coat, putting down the brush on the stall shelf and turning to face felix, looking him purposefully up and down. ]
I'd ask you the same question, but you seem chipper as ever. Good sleep?
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...It's just nice to watch Sylvain work. For various reasons, some of which Felix is stubbornly refusing to think about as Sylvain abruptly faces him once more. He's never been good with others... staring at him; like, that quick once-over already has his stomach twisting, but oh, to follow it up with that careless question. A good sleep? A good sleep.
Mmph. He manages to meet Sylvain's gaze for all of two seconds before he glances off to the side, reaching for words as he studies a shovel. All he can think about, predictably, is being tucked so close to Sylvain's side? How natural it felt, Sylvain's every breath ruffling his bangs.]
I've... had worse. [But not better, which is, of course, an intentional omission? One Felix allows to hang there for a moment, for Reasons, before he forces himself to look back Sylvain's way. Archly:] At least you didn't snore. I suppose I should be grateful.
[There may be a hint of color high on Felix's cheeks now, but don't worry about it. The dimness of the stables is officially benefiting them both.]
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[ it's not like the break in felix's gaze or the slight flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed - sylvain makes a great show of being blase and lazy, but he's surprisingly observant underneath his many acts. the atmosphere between them was a weird dichotomy of that same familiarity they always enjoyed, and this new layer of strange tension where neither of them really knew what to say or do next. in some way, it's a small relief to sylvain, that felix seems just as awkward about this entire situation as he does, but... it doesn't step them any closer to a solution.
even he can't maintain his mask for that long, breaking his gaze again to pull the saddle blanket off the side of the stall where he'd put it earlier when he'd started, desperately needing something to busy himself with. throwing it over the back of the black mount, sylvain takes much more time to straighten it up than usual, almost like he's buying himself time. but what was the point in that, when he was literally trapped in this stall with his decisions?
with a short sigh, the redhead moves towards the front of the stall and raises his hands to gently pat the horse's forehead in a familiar fashion, a strangely compassionate movement that was in odds with how he usually carried himself. in reply, the mount whinnies quietly, doing something to fill the silence between them. ]
I might be an idiot, but I'm guessing you didn't come by for horse-care tips.
[ pulling something white and square - a sugar lump? - out of his breeches pocket and feeds it to the horse, much to it's delight. ]
Penny for your thoughts?
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Sometimes, however, it's difficult for Felix to figure out the proper approach. He's so good at it on the battlefield, sizing up his opponent in order to determine when and where to strike—and he's halfway decent at it in the midst of an argument, but this is... well! It's new. Felix is delving deeper into those uncharted waters by the second, and he's second-guessing himself in a most un-Felix-like fashion. Did he say the wrong thing, a moment ago? Did he miss something?
...Mm. Maybe. He feels fidgety for no apparent reason, driven to shift his weight from one leg to the other as he watches Sylvain dote on his horse. It's endearing, in a way. Felix doesn't get horses, but he gets Sylvain, gets that maybe it's easier to be soft to this loyal creature than, say, an actual person. It isn't like it expects anything from him.
But while Felix did indeed choose to share his bed, Sylvain chose to climb into it. Give and take,hence the second Felix spends considering his tangled thoughts before he says, as blunt as ever:]
I'm more interested in yours.
[He's not the one with a history of running away, after all. Felix makes a decision; Felix sees it through. Everyone knows that.]
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but it's not just his habits that are in question here - it's what felix deserves, and how he should be treated. he needed to be given something better than vague words or a quick exit, this much sylvain knows, but what worries him the most is that he doesn't know if he can provide it. ]
That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me.
[ some small levity, but it doesn't really reach sylvain's eyes even though he has that perpetual, easy smile on his face. this is probably going to be too serious for jokes, right? ]
Well... [ he trails off, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck in some uncharacteristic uncertainty. ] We made out on your floor, then you slept wrapped around me all night like a limpet. It was a good evening, apart from the hangover. Would do it again.
[ just as noncommittal as expected, but sylvain's trying - or at least, he thinks he is. his standards for making an effort are probably a lot lower than others, but in his mind? he's putting himself out there, especially because he's had his hand forced to make the first move. his response doesn't really belie his true feelings, because that's still So Hard - how does he even tell his best friend of what, twenty years, that he might be in love with him?
'in love'. huh. ]
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...And Sylvain's response is, ah. Well. It's the truth? Technically? The highly embarrassing truth that sends Felix huffily looking to the side, scowling at the perfectly innocent party—Sylvain's poor horse—bearing witness to this mess. Like a limpet. A phrase plucked from their younger years, which Felix heard all too often; in this context, however, it's more irritating than ever, and Felix once again wonders why it's so difficult for Sylvain to just... say shit without turning it into a minor production.]
Sylvain.
[Take this seriously, that impatient tone implies, even if Felix doesn't outright say it. Why would he? He knows that, on some level, Sylvain is... trying; he knows that this is likely as new to Sylvain as it is to him, if genuine feelings are involved; he knows that Sylvain jokes around with him, but always, always takes him seriously, when push comes to shove. It's the only reason Felix has a single shred of patience right here, right now, as he's all but placing his heart on the table.]
You're impossible, you know, [he grumbles, huffing out a quick breath before forcing himself to once again meet Sylvain's gaze. Clearly there's only one way to proceed? Clearly it's Felix's turn to prod, so, after a beat passes:] And you know that would is not—it's not want.
[Felix would do many things, if he had to; that doesn't necessarily mean he'd want to.]
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[ his tone sounds a little defeated, the practiced mirth leaving his face as it quickly becomes clear that felix is very much serious (sylvain already knew this) and losing patience with him (sylvain understands this). a silence passes between the two that lasts just a few moments too long to be anything but obtusely awkward, the taller man shoving his hands into his pockets to do something about the nervous energy that seemed to be circulating in the air.
truth be told, sylvain is getting frustrated, too. not at felix, goddess no - but at himself, at his inability to say what's truly on his mind but simultaneously able to spout whatever shit would get him a laugh or a flirtatious look. old habits die hard, and this one? it's holding on and struggling for breath right now.
a frown starts to form on sylvain's face as felix meets his eyes. he desperately does not want to lie, but at the same time? he's got absolutely no clue what to do if doing something came with consequences. ]
I don't do things I don't want to, you know that.
[ the first part comes out in a mixture of that frustration and a tone just slightly too easy for the situation. ]
Look, I'm not really sure what you want me to say here, Felix. Did I enjoy what happened last night? Yes. Do I want to do it again? Again, yes. But you haven't told me what you want yet, either.
[ eye for an eye. right? is that how relationships worked? ]
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Felix is, in the worst possible way, offering Sylvain one last out.
But Sylvain doesn't take it? Sylvain says what some not-so-small part of Felix was hoping to hear—and then Sylvain neatly flips it all right back around, catching Felix in a net of his own making. And that's, you know. That's fair. Felix recognizes this even as he stiffens, feeling the curious sensation that is his heart lightening as his stomach sinks. Being put on the spot is less than pleasant, because Felix knows what Felix wants; it's just a matter of, ah, phrasing, because so much of what Felix wants can be boiled down to one word—and that word is what he decides to go with, in the end.]
You, [is his deceptively simple answer, then, spoken in such a deceptively steady voice.] Obviously.
[It would be cheesy, were it anyone but Felix saying such a thing—but Felix is perfectly earnest. Perfectly stupid, because you encompasses so many things, in Felix's mind? It's the entirety of their friendship; it's the ease with which they interact; it's the comfort they offer one another; it's the knowledge that nothing will change, even if absolutely everything does.
Saying all of that, however? Impossible, hence Felix's huff as he lifts his chin, attempting to mask discomfort with defiance.]
Why else would I kiss you?
[Idiot is unspoken, but oh, it's grumpily implied. Take him as he is, etc, etc.]
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he looks like an idiot at the moment, just as felix's intonation accused. not a smart man pretending to be an idiot like he usually is, just an absolute, surprised idiot. when it came to genuine emotion, sylvain had never been particularly good at hiding what he felt, whether it was passion, anger or otherwise, and now was no different as the beginnings of a crimson blush start crawling up his neck. ]
I don't know! You're always so damn measured and cryptic, I--
[ and that's it. there's a little switch that always flips in sylvain's head when he realises his words are no good and it's time for action, one that seems to flip relatively often if he's being quite honest? his words are often trash, poor substitutes for how he really feels, or what he truly wants to express - so that's maybe why the tall redhead crosses the distance between the wall and the door of the stall where felix is leaning in two large, purposeful strides, the frown on his face changed instead into a look of fierce determination.
this is a better answer, sylvain thinks - better than him stumbling over romantic platitudes, which a dalliance would deserve. not felix. felix deserves much, much more, and while sylvain had done his best so far in all that time they'd known each other to prove that, this is the perfect chance to emphasise that point now, right?
so, long fingers reach out to curl themselves into the collar of felix's shirt, tightening just enough to give sylvain a firm grip, and he makes a point to meet felix's eyes point-blank before he meets his lips, soundly kissing him. it's maybe a bit rougher than he intends, because there's just - a lot of feelings coursing through him right now, all them overwhelming, but sylvain wants felix to know, unequivocally, he regrets nothing and treasures everything. ]
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But Sylvain cutting himself off turns into Sylvain surging forward, hooking his fingers into the collar of Felix's shirt, and Felix has done this same thing to Sylvain many a time. Anchoring him in place after a battle, usually, while fussing at him, telling him to do better, to be better, and Felix is prepared for that same treatment; what Felix is not prepared for, however, is the look in Sylvain's eyes? Sylvain seemingly so, so serious before he leans down, swiftly closing the scant distance between them.
And it's amazing, how the urge to be contrary flees Felix entirely, because the near-bruising pressure of Sylvain's lips is—it's good. It's perfect. It's Sylvain once again just knowing what Felix wants, and Felix places both hands on top of the stall door, risking splinters and who knows what else in order to push himself up, up, up to return this pressure in full. Standing in the stables is not, like, ideal, but as Felix licks at the seam of Sylvain's lips, impatient to deepen this kiss—ah. No trace of whiskey to be found, hence his pleased (and somewhat smug?) hum. He was right, last night; it is better today...
...Even if unthinkingly shifting forward results in his bony hip banging against the solid wood door? Resulting in an unexpected bloom of pain that sends him jerking back, a barely audible curse escaping him, because nothing about them is smooth; everything about them is awkward..]
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but then they lose just a bit too much control and the kiss is broken as felix bangs into the stall, the wood slamming back in the frame a little which in turn made the horse behind them take a step back and whinny in surprise. look, there's a lot going on, and this poor, poor horse has had to bear witness to it all, all the awkward silence and now, the awkward reconciliation. if life was fair, the horse would get hazard pay.
so sylvain is just kind of... hanging there, over the edge of the stall as he watches felix take a step back, a bemused look on his face that did nothing to offset the red in his cheeks. ]
Uh.
[ and he waits for a second for felix to right himself, because even though this was a new kind of embarrassing for the both of them, it was also... endearing. amusing. like nothing had changed, and yet everything had? they were still the same best friends as ever, which is a bigger relief to sylvain than anything else so far. ]
Are you okay, or do I need to get someone?
[ a pointed grin is sent felix's way as sylvain leans easily on the top of the stall door, that easiness returning to his voice. ]
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Or: Felix is well aware that he's the cause of his own stupid suffering, but it's easy to huff? Easy to blame Sylvain for the very real effect Sylvain has on him, because Felix looks at him leaning over the stall door and Felix wants to simultaneously shove him back and drag him right over the door itself. Felix wants to leave him to tend to his scaredy-cat horse; Felix wants to push him against a wall and kiss him senseless, and there's the very real sense that this sort of dichotomy is here to stay. How messy.]
I'm fine.
[At least it's still easy to snap at Sylvain? To shoot him a mild Look as he pulls that hand from his hip, brings it up to swipe across his lips instead, because he can still feel the kiss, feel Sylvain. The absence of Sylvain, more like it, and it's unfair, given how relatively unruffled Sylvain looks at this point in time. Red-cheeked, sure—and there's something distinctly nice about knowing that he is the cause of that, but as Felix knows that he, too, is bright red, it barely matters. He's the one who made a fool of himself, because Sylvain is...
Well, it's like this: Felix has spent years overcoming his weaknesses, and now a new one is grinning back at him. One that might just turn out to be his biggest weakness—and yet, while Felix does his best to scowl, Felix still steps forward, so easily drawn right back into Sylvain's orbit.]
...Stop kissing me in the worst places.
[Implying that Sylvain is, in fact, responsible for his poor hip—and that Felix will allow future kisses.]
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[ he's so used to being on the receiving end of felix's snapped comments that it doesn't even really affect sylvain anymore - not that it ever had, really, even back when they were children. maybe that's why they had become such fast friends, with personalities that seemed to be quite opposite and yet so complementary, sylvain with all his exaggerated drama and practiced laziness, and felix with the prickliness and discipline to counter it. the train of thought only makes the redhead smile more, especially as felix brushes his hand across his face, a deep blush staining his cheeks.
it's weird, isn't it? discovering this entirely new side to someone he's known for decades, seeing them in a whole new light. it wasn't like they hadn't been in each other's space before - in fact, sylvain was a regular culprit in invading felix's personal bubble ever since they'd been kids. but that had slowly changed into this, where the familiarity blends seamlessly with something tense, something intoxicating, and, well... sylvain wasn't complaining.
there's some comfort, too, in seeing a blush that matched him on felix's face. that they were both on the back foot in this situation, feeling as awkward as the other? it's weird to think that makes it easier, but somehow, it does. ]
You're not allowed to pull that card on me when I've only gotten to kiss you, what? Three times?
[ sylvain's height lets him easily drape his arms over felix's shoulders as the other returns, such a simple touch but somehow? it felt so much more real, more fulfilling than the many meaningless embraces he'd naively sought out over the past few years. musing with that devilish expression he wears so well; ]
I haven't even gotten to kiss you in the war room, yet. Maybe during tomorrow's meeting? It'd make it so much more interesting.
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And Sylvain is—has always been—the clown to Felix's straight man, so of course Sylvain attempts to poke a bit of fun? Of course Sylvain attempts to, like, break up this awkward aura with a stupid line that earns him a full-on glare. Felix knows, knows, that Sylvain is simply looking for a reaction by threatening to kiss him in front of everyone, and yet he still feels a hot flash of something akin to panic. The mortifying ordeal of being known is just that: mortifying, especially for an intensely private person like Felix—but it's more than that, given how little Felix cares for the opinions of others. It's about Felix wanting to nurture this... whatever it turns out to be; it's about Felix wanting to keep something genuinely good to himself for fear of watching it up and disappear, because some not-so-small part of him is all too used to losing important things.
...It's foolish. All of this is, but Felix still lifts a hand, cruelly poking his pointer finger into the soft underside of Sylvain's chin. He can play in this space, if he must, because Goddess forbid he even hint about his various insecurities. It's far too early, for one thing—and effective communication is a myth, so.]
Try it. [So low as to be a threat? Made all the more obvious by the way Felix pauses to dig his finger that much deeper, forcing Sylvain to lift his chin, to tilt his head back.] If you want our fourth kiss to be your last.
[Force him to say kiss one more time and he might just leave this mortal coil; force him to acknowledge our anything and he definitely will, because listen: he is only one emotionally repressed man.]
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[ and that wicked smile sylvain had worn last night was back in response to felix's reaction, staring down the bridge of his nose at the other. it's not like he actually would, after all - not because he's worried about keeping up appearances, but rather he knows that felix has always been a particularly private person, and what made him comfortable? that was more important than anything else. ]
But, I suppose I can restrain myself and find somewhere else terrible to do it. The sauna? The library? The professor's office? The possibilities are endless.
[ of course he's kidding, but ever since they were kids, it had been a favourite past-time of his to wind felix up. when sylvain's met with that defiant gaze and a cutting comment, it somehow only endears felix more to him in some strange way. raising a hand, he gently takes felix's fingers in his and pulls the other's hand the slightest bit away from his chin, mostly just so he could get a good look at felix's face again. if they were going to ride this weird new rollercoaster together, sylvain was going to enjoy the view - and that much is written over his expression as he draws felix's hand up towards his lips, placing a soft kiss on top of his knuckles. ]
I'll workshop the idea. [ a brief pause, as the pad of his thumb brushes over the section of skin he'd just grazed with his mouth. ] Anyway, I guess we should decide where we're going from here. Could I take you to dinner in town this week? I promise I'll only cause a moderate scene.
[ a surprisingly mature question from someone with a reputation for childishness - perhaps there was hope for sylvain, after all. perhaps, after all these years and the realities of war, he'd grown up a little. ]
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But leave it to Sylvain to up the ante! Leave it to Sylvain to look right down at him before pressing a kiss to his hand, which—it's such a small thing, compared to Sylvain pinning him to the floor. The chastest possible gesture, and yet Sylvain's lips—which are far softer than they have any right to be—send a spark of electricity racing straight down his arm, short-circuiting his brain. It's like being hit by an expertly cast Thoron? Felix can only stand there, dumbly, as what feels like every exposed inch of skin warms to an uncomfortable degree. His hand...
...Well. It's like this, then: Felix is coming to terms with the fact that Sylvain may be his greatest weakness; now Felix also has to come to terms with the fact that his greatest weakness can exploit his many other weaknesses, and oh, the world is suddenly a much more dangerous place. Sylvain could ask him anything while kissing his hand, working down to his wrist, to his forearm—and Felix knows, in this moment, that he would be but putty in Sylvain's hands. It's pathetic. He's pathetic. Sylvain doesn't play fair.
And Felix doesn't pull his hand away, even as he glances off to the side for the umpteenth time. He's somewhat dazed, focusing on nothing as his heart stutters in his chest; that doesn't mean he's going to be any more agreeable.]
This isn't— [Hmm.] You don't have to court me.
[Courting. Ha! Never mind the fact that some part of Felix wouldn't necessarily mind that; that is a deep something to unpack at a later time, but it's certainly why he unconsciously shifts his weight from one leg to the other before hurrying along.]
So if you're planning to make any sort of scene, it's better to stay here. In the stables, even. [A huff!] It isn't about where we go.
[As long as there aren't... a dozen people watching... you know, just ask him again, he's being his Softly Tsun Self™.]
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[ there'd been many times sylvain had dragged felix and their other friends into town for drinks, food and merriment - but this was different. look, sylvain's acutely aware he's been down this road many times before, getting into bad habits with courting dates and, well... the reputation he'd built himself? he doesn't want to do this wrong. even if it made little sense for two friends who'd known each other for decades to go to dinner together yet again, sylvain didn't want to rush anything, skip anything.
he wanted to get it right, for once - this, more than anything. ]
Would you say yes if I promised not to make a scene at all? It's a difficult sell, but I'm willing to compromise.
[ it's so odd, because their friendship had always fit them like a well-worn glove - they'd always just slotted into each other in a way that worked as companions, both of them making up for the other's weaknesses and complementing their strengths. while it didn't feel like too much had really changed since last night but the level of awkwardness between them, there was still this strange 'new' feeling of finding out this different side to someone you'd known all your life.
there's still that mischievous gleam in sylvain's eyes as felix's gaze darts off to the side, giving him the encouragement to torment him further - it's not like the heat in felix's cheeks escapes his notice. turning the pale, lithe hand he was holding over, the redhead ducks his head again to place another feather-soft kiss on the inside of felix's wrist. ]
I'll even bathe beforehand.
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Until, of course, he once again isn't Thinking at all—and he really should have seen this coming. Really. Sylvain is nothing if not clever—but Felix is nothing if not a fool, in this moment, as he whips his head back around, sucking in a sharp breath as he takes in the surprising sight of Sylvain's lips pressed to his wrist? Sly eyes meeting his over top his curled fingers, and Felix suddenly feels like some small animal caught in a trap. He wants to flee, but he's frozen; he wants to hide his reaction(s) by lashing out, knowing full well that revealing weakness here is every bit as disastrous as revealing weakness in the midst of a spar, but there's no stopping that shiver from snaking down his spine. Felix is... oddly vulnerable, in this moment. Exposed in a way only Sylvain could—can—pick up on.
But he's back to himself soon enough, mouth twisting into a frown.]
Good. Perhaps you'll drown, [he snips, far too affected by that kiss to sound unaffected.] Save me the trouble.
[It's unkind. Felix knows it, and yet this is how Felix is when he's backed into a corner? On the attack—but as Felix attempts, weakly, to pull his hand free before Sylvain undoes him completely, Felix decides to throw Sylvain the tiniest bone. Ignore what he said before, buddy; focus on the single word that is:]
...Fine.
[He'll go! He'll go, and he'll enjoy himself, and maybe by the end of the evening, some traitorous part of him whispers, Sylvain will kiss his wrist once again.]
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[ sylvain shoots back easily, unfazed by felix's somewhat threatening musing. he's maybe just a little disappointed at the hand pulling free of his, but the redhead lets it go without any fuss, still corralled strictly by those warring voices in his head demanding equally that he take things slow and take everything, now. it's exhausting, trying to do the right thing, but sylvain's decided to err on the side of caution going forward into this? it's so new and fragile, he doesn't want to step over the bounds he usually charges right past.
sylvain does, however, grin charmingly at felix's somewhat reluctant acceptance of his invitation. getting felix to agree to shenanigans had always been a matter of simply wearing him down, and it was comforting to know that hadn't changed. ]
It's a date, then! I'll have you home by your curfew.
[ more prodding, but only because it's so, so satisfying to watch felix squirm underneath these new pressures - the touching, the kissing, the courting. sylvain sees a lot more thrills in his future thanks to these new abilities he's been given, and he looks forward to exploiting all of them.
distantly hearing some shifting behind him, he remembers why he'd been down here in the first place - looking after the other old friend behind him - and sylvain half-turns to give the horse's snout a reassuring pat before fiddling with the stable door lock to let himself out. he'd been all but finished when felix had shown up anyway, more killing time down here than doing anything truly productive - and it was so hard to properly torment felix from behind a stable gate.
shutting it behind him, he tries not to notice how close they were now, though felix's proximity had been somewhat maddening for some time before the culmination of last night's events. it sends his mind many places, most inappropriate for a, uh, workplace situation. to try and distract himself, sylvain lets out a positively massive yawn, arms stretching above his head as he makes a great show of supposed fatigue. ]
So, what are you up to for the rest of the day? I'm thinking I'm gonna go for a nap. [ a pause, as he takes inventory of the dull thud that was still banging on in the back of his head. ] Maybe two naps.
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...He'll go mad. Or maybe he's already gone mad, because Sylvain steps out from the stall and Felix's eyes drift to his shoulders, watching muscles bunch as Sylvain raises his arms. They've spent years alongside one another; Felix has seen Sylvain in every state imaginable, and yet Felix kisses Sylvain three (3) times and it's as if he's never seen Sylvain before in his life. Ridiculous. Obviously this is Sylvain's fault; obviously he must pay, if Felix can manage to pull himself together. Two naps! Felix manages an incredulous snort, at least, but let it be known that he briefly imagines curling up together once more, Sylvain's arm a comfortable weight draped over his—
—no? No. Felix shoves the thought from his mind, because the things Sylvain is doing to him? Unbelievable. He's keeping a list of offenses that Sylvain will answer for.]
As lazy as ever. Some of us have training to attend to. [Chores to complete, mages to accidentally annoy in the greenhouse. You know! The usual, hence Felix's pause as he manages to tear his eyes from Sylvain's shoulders long enough to give the man a brief, artfully uninterested once-over.] Next you'll say you expect dinner to be carried to you.
[Felix would do it, just as an excuse to slip into Sylvain's room at a later point. Felix is, in fact, offering to do it, in his roundabout way—but Sylvain should prepare himself for copious amounts of Rudeness.]
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[ though, sure, he was excellent at weaseling out of things he didn't particularly enjoy. looking after his mount was one of the few chores sylvain looked forward to, but when it came to maintaining the monastery grounds or guard duty, the enthusiasm was much more difficult to find. plus, sylvain's almost certain that some of the other blue lions were feeling equally as trash as he was today - perhaps they hadn't drunk as much as he'd ended up having, but they were also much smaller. well, most of them.
and then felix makes the classic mistake of giving him an inch, a grin spreading across sylvain's face as he feels felix's eyes wander over him. that in itself sends an electric feeling down his spine, because despite this being a fairly common occurrence among the adoring public, it had never felt so real and welcome as it does now, those ruby eyes raking down his body.
perhaps he should forgo the nap, and go straight to the cold bath. ]
Oh? Are you offering me room service?
[ voice dripping with mischief and more than a little hint of innuendo - sylvain can't help himself, because cornering felix is too fun - sylvain takes a half-step closer to the other, long arms snaking around felix's hips and linking up at the small of his back. ]
So gracious. I accept.
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Or: They're very close now, and Felix is all too aware of it as he tilts his head back, fixing Sylvain with the sharpest look he can muster. He wants to be annoyed, given that Sylvain breezed into his bubble with absolutely no concern whatsoever; he is annoyed, to a degree, and yet it pales in comparison to the realization that Sylvain's hands fit surprisingly well where they are.]
I didn't offer.
[He did. They both know that he did, just like they both know there's no reason for Felix to bring a hand to Sylvain's chest, grabbing onto his shirt much like he did the night before. So much of this is like the night before, actually. The closeness. The warmth. Sylvain pushing Felix's buttons.]
I'll bring you a dish you hate, [is the best threat he can think of—and what's sad is that this dumb attempt actually requires brainpower? A good deal of it. He's so focused on being contrary in this moment that he pays no mind to the fact that he is attempting to tug Sylvain down to him.] Fish skewers. Something disgusting.
[A crust of moldy bread! He'll workshop it.]
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[ one scenario sure ends in more hunger than the other, but felix is the draw, not the food. sylvain had long given up actually experiencing any 'honeymoon' period in a relationship - none of them had been real, all of it for show and cheap thrills. so experiencing one now was quite disconcerting for him, being so acutely aware of felix's presence, of his own desire to spend as much time as possible with someone he'd already spent more time with than anyone else in his life. the emotion tasted strange in his mouth and was plainly overwhelming to someone who'd always run as fast as he could from genuine affection - but sylvain wants to get used to this.
he could get used to the way felix scowls back at him, pretending to be thoroughly done with his cheap shots; the way his long fingers instinctively sought out his shirt; the faint blush that creeps into felix's cheeks when sylvain tests their new boundaries. he looks forward to getting used to it, because - well, this is better than he'd felt in some considerable time. ]
So, when will you drop by? Four, five in the evening? I'm easy.
[ a rueful grin is shot felix's way before sylvain tightens his linked arms just a fraction, pulling the other a maddening inch closer to him. their faces are so close, sylvain can feel felix's breath heat his lips, doing absolutely nothing to quell the racing of his heart.
what a scene someone could walk into right now, if either of them were thinking of that. whew. ]
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...Hmm. Felix rolls his eyes, sure, but Felix still cants his head, his own heart pounding in his chest as his eyes drop to Sylvain's grin. Terrible. Felix very much wants to go back to Sylvain's room right now, and not to—well, he wouldn't be opposed, but it's more about spending time with Sylvain in a nice, quiet place? Talking and teasing and figuring out how close is too close, if that's even a possibility. It isn't like Felix knows. He's let so few people touch him, over the years; maybe Sylvain's touch will become overwhelming at some point, but for now Felix thinks of Sylvain's lips, raising himself just high enough to murmur against them.]
Far later than five. I'm not going to rush through anything for—
[—your sake, obviously, but that sure is a loud bang behind him? The sound of someone dropping something onto the ground, and as Felix whips his head about—probably whacking Sylvain in the face with his stupid ponytail, so sorry—that sure is Ingrid he spies, standing above a bucket that's presumably full of something. He can't quite make out her expression? It's, like, half-disapproving, half-something else entirely, and yet, before he can even think to snap at her, she turns away with a shake of her head. Was that a muttered fragment of a sentence... something, something, about time, perhaps...
...Mysterious. Truly. Plenty for Felix to puzzle over as he stands there, hold on Sylvain's shirt tightening as he watches her walk away. He needs a second to reboot.]
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he doesn't relinquish his hold on felix, but the entire situation is just so comedic that sylvain can't help himself, letting out a hearty, amused laugh that he just can't keep contained even though he knows he's probably going to end up with a sword inserted into him for doing so. so, ingrid knows. who cares? given her uncanny ability to know what him, felix or dimitri were thinking before they were even thinking it themselves, sylvain doubts that it's come at any surprise to her.
okay. done laughing. idly, he notices felix has yet to respond, his fingers so tightly bunched in his shirt that his knuckles were almost going white - no doubt a stressful situation for him, but an extremely amusing one for sylvain. peering into felix's face, the redhead grins knowingly; ]
Hey. You doing alright?
[ and something tells him he should probably be a bit more diplomatic, considering how hilarious he's found this. ]
Look, it's Ingrid. She probably knew before we did.
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But now it's out there. So what? It's not like it changes anything Felix feels, or Felix wants; it's not like there was anything to be done about it then, and it's not like there's anything to do about it now, but Felix still feels... disgruntled. Mildly. He's never liked surprises, after all, and it all goes back to that need to be in control.]
Stop trying to... comfort me, [he all but spits out, albeit with more force than actual heat.] I don't need it.
[He's very cool, thanks. Very tough. It's why he smoothly twists free of Sylvain's grasp, shooting him a Look even as he immediately misses his warmth, immediately mourns the kiss-that-wasn't. That, at least, is fixable; it would be the simplest thing in the world to pull Sylvain down for their fourth full kiss, but Felix's stubborn pride gets in the way? Sends him brushing right past Sylvain, instead—and that companionable bump of their arms should let Sylvain know he isn't in too much trouble. Felix is just back to being prickly! A shocked hedgehog curling into a little ball once more.]
You can answer her questions. Perhaps I'll even tell her to bring your dinner.
[He won't. Ingrid would probably tell him that she is not getting involved in a lovers' quarrel or something equally as ridiculous, so—farewell for now, Sylvain! Felix is off to do Felix-y things for the remainder of the afternoon, most of which involve him smacking things with his sword. It's quite therapeutic; it definitely puts him in a better mood by the time he shows up to Sylvain's door just a tad after five, a covered bowl of spicy fish and turnip stew in hand—and a few still-warm sweet buns tucked into his pocket, neatly wrapped in a napkin by Mercedes' capable hands. The things Felix does for Sylvain...
...Anyway, he's here, and you bet he's going to kick at the door for a moment before actually opening it (with or without an invitation). Hi, hello, delivery...]
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eventually sylvain just gives up, the pounding headache and overly eventful morning far too much for such a simple creature. if there's one thing he could make good on for the day, it was his promise of having at the very minimum one nap - so after washing up from the stables, he ends up right back in his dormitory room, face-first collapsing into the bed. who knew that genuine caring could be so exhausting, and why did no-one ever see fit to warn him? these and other assorted thoughts courtesy of sylvain falling into a deep hangover-fueled sleep.
somewhat later, he's not so much startled out of his slumber (sylvain's always been a disgustingly heavy sleeper) as slightly disturbed, the thumping against his door and the rattling of the wood in the frame as someone - is someone kicking it?? - causing him to roll over on to his side and let out a loud groan.
it's quite a sight, actually, the future of house gautier draped messily over his bed in a way that should be questionable in terms of comfort, shirt undone except for three, four? buttons, and hair even more chaotic than it usually was.
when the door kicking ends up in door opening, the hinges screeching do a little something to wake him up a little further, brown eyes cracking open slightly to see felix... upside down. it takes a few moments for the hamster wheel to start turning again before sylvain fully comes back to earth, a sleepy but still frustratingly coy grin tugging at his lips as he realises the situation. ]
Hello, beautiful.
[ barely awake sylvain seems to have even less of a filter than alert sylvain, unfortunately. stifling a yawn, his eyes dart to the window and realises it's dark now - a bonus, arguably, that he'd managed to sleep the rest of the day away and expedite seeing felix again. hold on-- ]
Wait, is that what I think it is?
[ f o o d. ]
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So he's thinking of nothing in particular as he steps into Sylvain's room, and maybe that's his greatest mistake to date. Thinking of nothing means that there's nothing to distract him from the sight of Sylvain sprawled atop his bed, messy in the best possible ways. And Felix knows, in this moment, that this is Sylvain's, like, Goddess-granted gift? Felix waking up from a nap is a mess of tangled hair, shirt sticking to him in the most uncomfortable manner, but Sylvain looks... unfairly good. Annoyingly good. The training grounds call to Felix once more.
But Felix manages, somehow, to tear his eyes away from Sylvain, kicking the door closed behind him after Sylvain offers him that ridiculous greeting. Beautiful. Sylvain, Felix decides, is a much better kisser than he is a conversationalist, and that has nothing at all to do with the way Sylvain's words affect him. So stupid.]
Dog food? [His best attempt at a cool, calm tone as he walks across the room to Sylvain's desk. Hmm.] Perhaps.
[Jokes! Throwing Sylvain's earlier words right back in his face! Except that it's Dedue's cooking in the bowl Felix sets atop a neat stack of books, of course, so it's a meal well and truly fit for a king. Sylvain should consider himself lucky? Especially as Felix reaches into his pocket for those sweet buns, calling back to Sylvain as he sets the cutely tied package right beside the bowl.]
See for yourself.
[Climb out of bed and eat your dinner, lazybones.]
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Wait, I didn't think you'd actually bring dinner.
[ and honestly, sylvain didn't? things had ended on an awkward note, and felix had seem perturbed enough about the whole interruption that he hadn't expected him to bother. but he's very open to welcoming being wrong in this circumstance, and to that end, the redhead rolls over so he's the right way up again, swinging his legs around to the side of the bed. it takes him a minute to reorient himself, smooth the artful mess of his hair back down (it doesn't work), and glance from felix to the uncharacteristically adorable package sitting next to the bowl on his desk.
he's suddenly, strangely, overcome by a warm feeling at the rather selfless gesture, so reminiscent of similar things felix had done for him many times before over the years - and it's just quite a strong reminder for a still sleep-addled brain of just how much sylvain treasures their relationship, whatever that was now. treasures him. and to that end, his expression softens somewhat as he draws himself up, stretching like a cat to appear unaffected. always play it straight. never show a weakness, even though this - these feelings - are in no way a weakness. something he's still working on. ]
And how was the rest of your day? Did you get to stab anything new?
[ sylvain inquires, moving over towards felix and the bounty that the desk held. it doesn't take him long to pick up the bowl and begin inhaling the contents, leaning against the table standing up because, 1.) who has time to sit down to eat dinner, and 2.) why would he do anything that doesn't involve looking at felix, when he's got the privilege of having him alone to himself in his own room? the view, and the potential of the situation, were two things that sylvain greatly appreciates in this moment.
there's a muffled but genuine thank you as he starts to eat, half-silenced by the spoon in his mouth. ]
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—well. That's the crux of the matter: so many others have all but fallen over themselves for Sylvain, lured in by his Crest, his easy-going demeanor, his looks, and Felix never wanted to be one of them. Felix knows what it's like to be seen as something else, after all—and no, of course it isn't the same; of course people viewing Felix as a (poor) substitute for Glenn is not the same as people viewing Sylvain as, like, an easy ticket to a better life, but Felix refused to add to that... burden. Sylvain was—is—simply Sylvain, to Felix? A fool and a scoundrel and his closest friend.
And now Felix's attention is focused solely on Sylvain as he crosses the room to grab his dinner, because it's the look on Sylvain's face as much as it is his stupid hair, or the skin exposed by his stupid shirt, or the way he digs into the stew with reckless abandon. Felix is rarely selfish, but in this moment, Felix wants nothing more than to swat that bowl from Sylvain's hands and kiss him, claim his undivided attention for the rest of the night. It's awful. Felix is awful, and thus Felix awkwardly clears his throat.]
No. [Now it's Felix's turn to look to the windows, crossing his arms as he notes the last vestiges of light in the sky.] But the day isn't over yet.
[Hilarious, and made all the better by the stretch of silence that follows. He's giving Sylvain a chance to eat, he tells himself. That's all. It definitely isn't that he has no idea of what to say in this moment—but he settles for something simple soon enough. An excuse to once again glance over at a perfectly mussed Sylvain.]
...I take it you're feeling better. You certainly slept long enough.
[Or so he assumes? Who knows what Sylvain was up to.]
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[ it doesn't take long at all for the stew to entirely disappear into him, a habit he'd learned from eating anything on the road near ingrid. placing the bowl back down on top of his desk, sylvain's attention is drawn once more to the nicely wrapped package that had arrived alongside dinner - and curiosity wins the better of him, pulling at the string to reveal the sweet buns that laid in wait inside. there's an almost childish delight that crosses his face as he takes one, and immediately stuffs it in his mouth, the bread also disappearing in a matter of seconds into the void. despite the everything that had happened the past two days, this interaction felt so comfortable. normal, but... different.
felix was here pretending to be standoffish but actually just ending up being really sweet, sylvain was devouring everything in sight while half undressed, and, well? that checks out for their history, actually. ]
Much better. I only fit the one nap in, but the headache from His Highness' poison has disappeared so I'm going to count that as a win.
[ they're at right angles to each other as he lounges against the desk, the room cast in the warm light of dusk and the last rays of sun. it's picturesque. strangely cozy. and felix only looks more beautiful in this moment, though sylvain isn't quite sure how that's possible.
it's then he realises there's a noticeable coating of sugar on his lips from the bun, and while he subconsciously swipes his tongue lazily across them to remove it, it becomes a very conscious movement as he maintains his gaze with those ruby irises as he does so.
that's when it's kind of over for him, really. it only takes one slightly flirtatious move in felix's presence to send his mind absolutely sailing down the gutter, and all of a sudden, sylvain's acutely aware of the long silence stretching out between them, as well as all the ways he'd like to interrupt it. he settles for, strangely, a more genuine way to break it, a grin on his face that's not facetious for once - but rather, one that emanates a warm sense of affection. desire. ]
You are, you know.
[ a pause, that hazel gaze surprisingly intense. ]
Beautiful.
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But he wants to, is the thing. He very much wants to, especially as Sylvain offers him a grin so promising it sends his pulse quickening. Ah. It's why he finds himself focusing on the corner of Sylvain's mouth while Sylvain speaks, noting the bit of sugar that he didn't—couldn't?—quite reach. There, perhaps, is a reason to stay, if he needs one—but then Sylvain's words actually reach him, slightly delayed by such a stupid thing, and his eyes flick right back up to Sylvain's. A second of study, followed by an oh-so quiet huff when he can't find a hint of dishonesty.]
And you're ridiculous.
[Grumbled words entirely without heat? Something to say at last as he uncrosses his arms, hesitating for a moment before turning to take a purposeful step closer. He looks... the same as always, really. A little redder in the face, perhaps, but his expression is measured, almost determined.]
Don't try to flatter me, [he says, simply, as he brings his hands up, fingers settling lightly atop—framing—Sylvain's jaw.] It won't work.
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[ even on the off-chance felix had tried to leave, sylvain would've argued - it's weird to think this way, but it felt like they'd missed out on time already despite having been best friends for the better part of their lives, so why would he waste more now? that's why he looks very much pleased as felix comes closer, places his fingers feather-light on sylvain's face which is cruelly deceptive for someone he knows could hand his ass to him in a matter of seconds. his friend, always a bewildering combination of night and day - tender yet guarded, gentle yet strong, passionate yet prickly.
an almost magnetic force draws sylvain's hands to the sides of felix's hips, the proximity just a little too much to resist for someone who historically already has trouble keeping to himself. hooking his thumbs over the top tan belt, sylvain's obviously looking to cause problems on purpose - felix's jacket was nice, yes, but it hid the jut of his waist, the flat muscles of his stomach... unfair, really, considering sylvain was largely on display right now.
purposefully, boldly, the redhead uses the leverage from the belt to tug him an inch closer with a wicked grin on his face. ]
Like we established yesterday, I know better than to lie to you. You know I'm telling the truth, don't you?
[ he's a shameless flirt, but there's this odd sense of pride, of warmth when he manages to make felix squirm and blush. their faces are only a couple of inches apart now, and sylvain turns his head just a fraction into felix's left palm, his lips very much intentionally brushing against the calloused skin while he maintains that gaze. ]
Expect it to happen often.
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And Felix is sure that Sylvain doesn't see this as any sort of spar, or game, or anything even remotely similar—but Felix is sure that he knows exactly what he's doing as he says such sappy (in Felix's opinion, anyway) things? As he looks Felix dead in the eye while pressing a not-quite-kiss to his palm, because that... is a dirty trick that sends a shiver racing through him. Felix is defenseless, in this moment; Felix is all but laid bare, his body telling Sylvain what Felix will not, cannot, say. If Sylvain were to continue right along—
—but he did so in the stables? And Felix thinks, once again, of a spar, of the importance of catching one's opponent off guard—but above that, Felix blinks back at Sylvain and thinks of how badly he wants him. Him. This fool with a bit of sugar still clinging to his lips, and Felix leans forward before he can think better of it, a disgruntled little noise escaping him just before he licks at the corner of Sylvain's mouth. It's only sugar; he hates it, true, but it has no right to shock his tongue like it does, that spark of electricity buzzing through his jaw. Alchemy...]
You are ridiculous, [he mutters, waspishly, against Sylvain's lips, fingers pressing that much more firmly against his jawline.] Just—keep your observations to yourself.
[Shut up, because Felix's eyes are closed, and his face is hot, and both his heart and his mind are racing as he hovers too close, but not close enough.]
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[ the grin is still clear in his voice, though his words are little more than a murmur against the brush of felix's lips. the swipe of felix's tongue against the corner of his mouth had put absolutely carnal thoughts in his head, his bare fingers tightening around where they were curled on the belt at felix's waist. the leather almost creaked - because even though they'd been this close, kissed, touched the other night, somehow this was so much different. they were sober, for one, but doing this seriously as something they both wanted in the long-term? it was an alien feeling, and one much more heady than sylvain had expected it could be.
looking over hooded lashes to see felix's eyes closed, his cheeks flushed - in that moment, sylvain feels a strange sort of thrill pool inside him. that he had this effect on felix, that he could do this to him, the one that he'd wanted for probably longer than he realised. ]
You're gonna have to put up with it, unfortunately. [ his tone is deep, husky - one that betrays everything he's feeling and thinking right now. ] There's so many things I need to remind you of - like how attractively fearsome you are when you're holding a sword, or how sinful you look in those black leggings.
[ to punctuate his point, sylvain closes the scant gap between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss - much more gentle than anything that had happened on felix's floor last night. it's sweet and comforting, everything that sylvain pretends not to be, but what he'd reveal to give the one person who deserved it. it's also hard not to immediately drown into felix, and the restraint sylvain is exercising is fairly immense at this point, betrayed only by him deepening the kiss for a fraction of a second by swiping his tongue across felix's before pulling away for a breath. ]
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...He wonders how long it's been for Sylvain, then. If Sylvain finds this every bit as difficult as he does, despite the, ah, practiced ease with which Sylvain fires back—but there were those awkward moments in the stable, weren't there? And there's this kiss, which starts so gently, so considerately. So honestly. Felix senses it, somehow, and maybe that shouldn't be a surprise; he's always been good at pointing out when Sylvain is putting on a show, and yet the press of Sylvain's lips against his doesn't feel anything like a performance. Sylvain is going about this... carefully.
And that's good, Felix knows, even as he cracks open his eyes the second Sylvain breaks away, that odd buzz pushing him to be reckless. Sylvain's shirt is still undone; Felix's gaze slides to his lips, to his throat, to the hollows just above his collarbones.]
You never know when to shut up.
[Words with bite, perhaps, but no real heat. Felix knows how to shut Sylvain up, now; he'll take full advantage of this new tactic as often as he needs to, but he pulls a hand free from Sylvain's face, slipping it down to gently grasp the wrist of the hand gripping his belt far too tightly. He's suddenly all too aware of his many, many layers? And he could shove Sylvain away to peel them off himself, sure, and yet, despite the way he lifts his chin, clearly angling for another kiss as quickly as possible—]
Unbuckle it before you ruin it, [he directs, allowing it to hanf between them before deliberately dragging his gaze back up to meet Sylvain's.] I don't have time to repair whatever you might ruin.
[Whatever. It implies more than a single belt buckle, more than his sword belt—but Goddess forbid Felix come right out and say such a thing, even though he wants nothing more than to shed his cape and his coat.]
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[ he responds, flashing felix a smirk in return to the pointed barb - hits that never seemed to land on sylvain, not that he thinks felix would even want them to. just one of the various ways they were so used to each other, comfortable with the way they communicated, because felix could be as prickly enough to scare off even the toughest of the blue lions and it'd still never drive sylvain away.
the redhead hesitates for a second as he feels long, cool fingers grasp his wrist - as much as he was skilled at reading a room, sylvain's dimly aware that y'know, this is still new, still fresh, maybe felix doesn't want him to put something into motion he can't stop - but then felix speaks, and honestly, sylvain needs no more encouragement.
looking down his nose at felix's face tilted up towards his own, that stoic look ever just barely slipping as felix insinuates something sylvain would never expect to leave his mouth, his expression is an equal mix of fondness and mischief as he happily does what he's told in not so many words. there had been many years between them of reading through the lines, and that was only going to continue to work in his favour, it seemed. ]
So rude, to insinuate I don't know my own strength.
[ sylvain replies with a grin, loosing felix's grip on his wrist so he could slide his fingers around the belt buckle at the other's waist instead. with a smooth movement, he pulls felix just an inch closer to him with the purchase he has on the leather, making quick work of that belt - and the next one, and the next one. felix certainly didn't wear clothes with ease of removal in mind. ]
Luckily, I do.
[ and among the distant clatter of felix's belts falling to the floor, including the one holding his sword and scabbard, sylvain's bare hands reach up towards the v of his coat instead. the clasps there are fucking fiddly so it takes sylvain more time than he'd like to methodically undo them - a perfect time to duck his head towards felix's once more, meeting his lips in a much more powerful, claiming kiss. ]
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But while Felix knows they've plenty of time, Felix's infamous impatience soon rears its ugly head, made all the worse by Sylvain's forceful kiss. The sound of his sword hitting the floor is but a secondary concern; it's endured far worse, Felix knows, and thus Felix surges upward, shrugging off his coat even as he pulls Sylvain's bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it to tenderness. It's easy, losing himself in this. The room falls away around them, Felix giving it little to no thought as he steers Sylvian backwards, pushes him against the wall before dropping his mouth to the line of his jaw, the pulse point of his throat. He remembers being mesmerized by the open collar of Sylvain's shirt the night before? It's much the same now as it was then, except that now Felix can drag his teeth over the exposed flesh, shivering, ever so lightly, before he presses closer, sucking a bruise to the unmarred surface. Saints. He wants to leave a trail of marks here; he wants to turn Sylvain's throat all sorts of colors, but—]
Sylvain—
[It's a little like a kid eating too much candy at once? Felix needs to pause, nosing into the crook of Sylvain's neck as a surprisingly quiet sigh escapes him. It feels good to be stripped to his turtleneck, his stupid bishop-sleeved overshirt—but he still feels overheated, for whatever reason. Overwhelmed. He can't recall the last time he wanted anything—anyone—this badly.]
At least you picked a better place, this time. [Ah, well. A beat; a heavier breath, puffed against the side of Sylvain's neck, before Felix adds:] To kiss me.
[Remember his half-hearted criticism in the stables?? Of course Felix does—and of course Felix brings it back now, because owning up to shamelessly shoving Sylvain against the wall is! Well! They're here; shut up about it.]