What do you want to eat more than anything in the world right now?
[He's very much in the mood for spoiling his husband, and lucky enough to have the resources to go through with pretty much any request. He rests his head on Sylvain's shoulder, enjoying the feeling of those lance-calloused fingers combing through his curls.]
If it's something that will take a significant amount of time, though, you might want to consider a faster back-up choice to tide you over. [He captures Sylvain's free hand in his own, threading their fingers together and pulling it up to his lips to kiss the back of Sylvain's knuckles.]
[Sylvain, stranger still, is in the mood to be spoiled. He turns his head to kiss Claude's forehead in some measure of retaliation for that hand kiss. Which has his cheeks feeling warm, as embarrassing as that is.]
Truthfully... [Goddess he is such a child.] Sweet buns.
[Sure enough, the forehead kiss makes him blush. Another thing he's not experienced since he was too young to remember.]
I can make that happen. [No judging here! He just squeezes Sylvain's hand, then eyes the door. The mature thing to do would be to suck it up, dislodge himself from his husband, and tell the guard at the door to get a servant on making those sweet buns. But Claude doesn't particularly want to be mature right now. Yelling will do just fine.]
Guards!
[Being good enough guards that Claude trusts them to defend his bed chambers, where his injured husband lays, they immediately burst into the room, expecting a threat. Claude grins, utterly unrepentant.]
We need sweet buns. It's very important. Please pass that along to the head of staff. [She'll be sure it's all done correctly-- no one Claude doesn't personally trust makes it past the lowest rungs in his family's employ, not since he started taking on duties as crown prince.] And sorry to startle you. [But not that sorry.]
[Sylvain watches with a slowly raising eyebrow as Claude turns to the door. He can practically see the cogs turning behind those brown curls.
Claude shouts for the guards, the poor put-upon guards who probably think it's another attempt on his life, and Sylvain lifts his free hand to cover his mouth. Which has broken into a shit-eating grin. He stifles his giggles, somehow, until the order is given and the guards scurry off, at which point he dissolves into childish peals of laughter.]
Claude you're terrible! [Chastizing holds no power, however, because Sylvain is nudging with his forehead and squeezing their joined hands.] I think you just shaved five years off of each of their lives.
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[He's very much in the mood for spoiling his husband, and lucky enough to have the resources to go through with pretty much any request. He rests his head on Sylvain's shoulder, enjoying the feeling of those lance-calloused fingers combing through his curls.]
If it's something that will take a significant amount of time, though, you might want to consider a faster back-up choice to tide you over. [He captures Sylvain's free hand in his own, threading their fingers together and pulling it up to his lips to kiss the back of Sylvain's knuckles.]
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Truthfully... [Goddess he is such a child.] Sweet buns.
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I can make that happen. [No judging here! He just squeezes Sylvain's hand, then eyes the door. The mature thing to do would be to suck it up, dislodge himself from his husband, and tell the guard at the door to get a servant on making those sweet buns. But Claude doesn't particularly want to be mature right now. Yelling will do just fine.]
Guards!
[Being good enough guards that Claude trusts them to defend his bed chambers, where his injured husband lays, they immediately burst into the room, expecting a threat. Claude grins, utterly unrepentant.]
We need sweet buns. It's very important. Please pass that along to the head of staff. [She'll be sure it's all done correctly-- no one Claude doesn't personally trust makes it past the lowest rungs in his family's employ, not since he started taking on duties as crown prince.] And sorry to startle you. [But not that sorry.]
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Claude shouts for the guards, the poor put-upon guards who probably think it's another attempt on his life, and Sylvain lifts his free hand to cover his mouth. Which has broken into a shit-eating grin. He stifles his giggles, somehow, until the order is given and the guards scurry off, at which point he dissolves into childish peals of laughter.]
Claude you're terrible! [Chastizing holds no power, however, because Sylvain is nudging with his forehead and squeezing their joined hands.] I think you just shaved five years off of each of their lives.