[Claude's sleep schedule has always been inconsistent at best, but with the work load of running an army and the weight of an entire continent on his shoulders, it's somehow gotten even worse. He's lost all track of time, going over supply inventories, requisitions, which of the remaining Alliance Lords he can call in a favor on and which he can blackmail into sending them some godsdamned rations so his soldiers don't starve.
He's been falling asleep at his desk more often than he actually makes it to the bed, but tonight he can't even manage that. His mind races out of his control, coming up with five new problems that need his immediate attention before he can finish working on one. Unfortunately, he's so scattered that it's not even productive work, it's just... a fucking mess. At least in the privacy of his own room he doesn't have to keep up his mask.
And just because the universe likes to spite him in particular, there's a quiet knock at the door. Claude scrubs his hands over his face for just a moment, frustrated and really not up for company. He forces a smile anyway, standing up to unlock the door and opening the door just a crack. It's Sylvain, who is-- admittedly not the worst option of people who would knock on his door in the middle of the night. Not by a long shot. There's still a hint of sleep in those brown eyes, softening them in a way that makes Claude's stomach flip, and he's clearly in his sleep clothes, whereas Claude... hasn't even changed for bed yet. Oops.] Uh, hey. Something wrong?
[Sleeping well isn't something Sylvain really expects of anyone he knows at this point. All of them have their own individualized reasons for failing at this basic bodily function, and tonight is no exception. The dream that Sylvain was awoke from wasn't a pleasant one-they rarely ever are- but he considers it a victory that he didn't wake in a cold sweat with terror gripping his heart. He just had to pee.
He's still groggy as he does so, and wanders his way back to the dormitories with shuffling feet. Walking through this area of the monastery at night always has him feeling strange. It's nostalgia mixed with other things, and it tickles at his mind even now, as it longs to slip back into sleep.
He's stopped in the hallway by the light coming out from under... Claude's door. Of course. He tries to sigh and it comes out a yawn, rubbing at his face as he knocks softly on Claude's door.
When the light streams out, he feels his eyes squinting even more. It isn't that bright- but compared to the darkness of everywhere else it burns. He blinks repeatedly and a soft smile turns up his face. It's the honest one that Claude has only seen on special occasions and when Sylvain is being especially intimate- slightly crooked and goofy. The smile fades into a concerned little frown nearly immediately, though, when he sees that Claude is still fully dressed.]
Yeah, there is. You're still working.
[He's coming in, mister leader man, like it or not.]
[That smile does him in every time, and it's all the more potent for how long it's been since he's seen it. Maybe that's why he doesn't try to stop Sylvain from coming in.
It makes him uncomfortable, having that concerned look directed at him, knowing how easily Sylvain had seen through him even half asleep.
Would he believe Claude woke up early? ...no, not even he could pull that egregious of a lie off.]
Well, I have a lot to do, you know. I'm sure I'm not the only one working this late. [He has literally no idea what time it even is]
[And they've gotten it from Sylvain about running themself into the ground before. He will do it again, too, but right now, Claude is the one in his sights. He saunters in and plops his ass right onto Claude's comfortably messy bed. Confident as if it were his own room, he leans back onto one hand as he covers another yawn with the other.
He eyes the desk and everything all over it, wondering what-all Claude has been doing most of the night. Truthfully he has no idea that hour either, but its dark. He turns his charming gaze back toward Claude.]
[He's reminded of when Sylvain would let himself into his room when they were students, making himself a distraction from whatever Claude was looking into at the time. Only, back then, the things Claude was working on weren't nearly as urgent. And so, Sylvain didn't have to try very hard to pull him away from it, really.
He blinks owlishly at the demand, trying to think of just one thing he could finish right now-- wait, why is he just going along with this?]
Just go back to bed, Sylvain, I don't want to keep you up too. [He forces a smile, sitting down at his desk chair again, trying not to show how utterly overwhelmed he feels by it all.]
[For a moment, Sylvain thinks he has him, and a smugness starts to shine in his eyes, but then Claude shakes off the immediate desire to go along with it, and slumps down at the desk like a man off to serve his sentence. Sylvain sits up and rubs at his face again.]
You don't need to be up either, Claude. I know whatever you're doing now is more important than what you used to hunch over that desk at, but we are all gonna suffer more for a general who isn't sleeping.
[And more importantly than all of that, seeing Claude neglecting himself hurts Sylvain in surprising ways that he doesn't want to think about.]
[The thing is, Sylvain is right, and Claude knows it. Case in point, his utter inability to get anything actually done, despite pouring over all these damn papers for hours. He's too drained for this work, but...
He sighs, the mask dropping, though his back is still to Sylvain.]
It's not that I don't want to. I just-- I can't stop thinking about all this. [He gestures at the mess of papers, voice quiet, a man at the end of his rope.] I can't sleep, my mind won't let me. There's too much to do.
[Sylvain can hear the change in Claude's voice. The honesty of it, the resignation. It twists his stomach and has him suddenly very much awake. He stands and steps the short distance to the desk, reaching over Claude to rest a hand on top of the other's. Sylvain tucks his chin in next to Claude's head, so their cheeks touch.
He may not know Claude's specific troubles, but "my mind won't let me sleep" is a familiar problem.]
Then... let me help you.
[He doesn't mean with the papers, and surely Claude knows that. It's been years, but... unless Claude's opinions have changed very much regarding Sylvain, there's no real reason to not share the same kinds of fun they used to. Claude needs it more than ever.]
[Claude's leaning back into Sylvain's warmth before he realizes it, and gods, he's really missed this. He's missed Sylvain.
It probably couldn't hurt, giving this a try again. At the very least, the stress relief would do him some good. It's just like before, all in good fun, it doesn't have to mean anything.
Except, of course, that it means everything. But Claude isn't the type of person to deny himself comfort.] ...yeah, okay. [He answers softly, his face flushed.]
[Even before he's done asking, Claude is leaning back into him. It warms him from the core, along with a nervous little feeling, a tingling in his chest. The desire to not let this man down. As if Sylvain's own instincts are telling him to not fuck this up.
He sighs, nuzzling his cheek a little against Claudes, and curling his fingers until they thread between and can wrap around to the palm of Claude's hand.] Good.
Come on, let out of that stiff chair. [He slowly untangles from Claude and steps off to the side, waiting for him to get up before grabbing at him.]
[It's been so long without these simple, intimate touches... It almost feels like a second first time. He bites back a whine when Sylvain pulls away, face flushing a shade darker at how embarrassing that almost was. It's just because it's been so long, and he hasn't had the time or inclination to be with anyone else like this. That's all. ...yeah, he doesn't even believe that himself.
This time he goes through with Sylvain's suggestion, getting to his feet and trying to put his focus on the other man, on anything but his responsibilities. The particular smile he levels at the other man is a rare and almost tentative thing.] You got a plan for distracting me?
[As if Sylvain needed any more reasons to want to spoil Claude with attention... the look in his eyes when he finally stands and faces him leaves Sylvain nearly unbalanced. Ever quick to blush, Claude's cheeks are already pink, and Sylvain reaches out to touch one, tender with his rough fingertips. He pulls in for a soft kiss, almost a greeting kiss as if they need to get to know each other all over again.]
Don't I always? [He teases, flashing a wink. He slides his hand down to take a fistful of Claude's clothes and pull him back toward his own bed.]
[His breath catches at the gentle touch, Sylvain's hand on his cheek, and it's all he can do not to lean into it like a cat being petted. He can press into the kiss, though, the tenderness in it more affecting than the simple fact of being kissed.
Sylvain's teasing words make him grin, more familiar territory than these almost unbearably tender touches. He's dragged in by his clothes, a breathless laugh escaping him as he's pulled toward the bed. Clever fingers tease at the bottom hem of Sylvain's sleep shirt, skimming across firm muscle and warm skin.] Not a bad start.
[The rhythm of it returns to him easily, once they start. Like getting back into a familiar saddle with a familiar horse- the gait is comfortable even with years of distance between them. His body remembers, even if his mind forgot, and the warm touch of Claude's fingers against his skin makes him hum.]
You still blush so easily.
[He teases more, knowing the banter is a comfortable crutch for the both of them, and making Claude speak will force his brain to do something other than think about work. Hopefully. Once he's backed up to the bed, Sylvain grabs Claude by the thighs and pulls him into his lap in a fluid motion as he sits, grinning like a chesire cat.]
[Claude rolls his eyes at the tease, still grinning.]
It's been a while, alright?
[Over five years, in fact. Not out of any sense of staying monogamous-- they both know it isn't that sort of relationship. It's just that the list of people Claude trusts enough to let in his bed is short enough to count on one hand. The opportunity hasn't presented itself since the last time he and Sylvain had hooked up like this.
He chuckles breathily as Sylvain pulls him into his lap, straddling him and tugging his shirt up.]
[He doesn't think that'd make a difference, really. Claude's a blushy guy, which is only made extra cute by the tone of his skin. He can't use being pale as an excuse for flushing easily. But Sylvain does feel a little jolt at the admission, and his eyes soften for it. Not pity, exactly, just an understanding that the last handful of years have been hard on them all, and that Claude really is awful at taking care of himself.
Pot, kettle, you know the drill.]
So did you, mister shoulders.
[He slides his hands up those thighs, tucking into Claude's shirt to get onto his abs and back. They leave momentarily to grab his shirt by the collar and tug it off, leaving all his new upper body strength on display to the air.]
[He laughs again, knowing full well that he's filled out very nicely himself. He takes quite a bit of pride in his looks, for good reason.]
All that archery and wyvern riding is good for something. [He winks, arching into Sylvain's hands like an overindulgent cat. He can't help a sigh at the loss of their warmth on him, but he helps with the removal of his shirt, a small shiver running through his shoulders as his bare chest is exposed to the cool night air. He's gotten slightly more accustomed to Fodlan's climate, sure, but he's gotten used to Derdriu in the past five years. It's colder at the monastery.]
[Overly indulgent flirting? Hey, it's distracting. Claude isn't the only one allowed a little vanity, here. But he can preen more if he likes, as Sylvain admires the new width of his chest and the strength he carries, both eyes and hands roaming. He pauses at Claude's upper arms, feeling slight goosebumps there and gives them a rough little rub.]
Aww, are you cold?
[Claude's horrible tolerance for cold will never stop being funny or a source of teasing, sorry. He makes up for it by kissing across a shoulder and up Claude's neck.]
[Claude chuckles, obviously enjoying the compliment, as much in Sylvain's eyes and hands as in his words. He rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the teasing, pressing even closer to the redhead's warmth and tilting his head to the side.]
I am... you gonna warm me up? [He runs his fingers teasingly down Sylvain's chest, through the well-groomed trail of hair that runs down from his stomach. He'd heard someone call it a "treasure trail" once-- definitely seems apt at the moment. The thought makes him grin. Yeah, this is definitely helping to keep his mind off all his damn work.]
[Playfulness is replacing stress in Claude's demeanor and Sylvain grins against skin, taking a little nibble of neck as he runs his warm hands over Claude's sides and back.]
I'll make you work up a sweat, [He mutters back, breathing warm against the shell of Claude's ear. He hums low, enjoying the touch, and rolling his hips a little as Claude draws near the waistband of his pants. He draws fingernails lightly up Claude's spine as he latches down on his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin.]
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sylvain come get yall juice
He's been falling asleep at his desk more often than he actually makes it to the bed, but tonight he can't even manage that. His mind races out of his control, coming up with five new problems that need his immediate attention before he can finish working on one. Unfortunately, he's so scattered that it's not even productive work, it's just... a fucking mess. At least in the privacy of his own room he doesn't have to keep up his mask.
And just because the universe likes to spite him in particular, there's a quiet knock at the door. Claude scrubs his hands over his face for just a moment, frustrated and really not up for company. He forces a smile anyway, standing up to unlock the door and opening the door just a crack. It's Sylvain, who is-- admittedly not the worst option of people who would knock on his door in the middle of the night. Not by a long shot. There's still a hint of sleep in those brown eyes, softening them in a way that makes Claude's stomach flip, and he's clearly in his sleep clothes, whereas Claude... hasn't even changed for bed yet. Oops.] Uh, hey. Something wrong?
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He's still groggy as he does so, and wanders his way back to the dormitories with shuffling feet. Walking through this area of the monastery at night always has him feeling strange. It's nostalgia mixed with other things, and it tickles at his mind even now, as it longs to slip back into sleep.
He's stopped in the hallway by the light coming out from under... Claude's door. Of course. He tries to sigh and it comes out a yawn, rubbing at his face as he knocks softly on Claude's door.
When the light streams out, he feels his eyes squinting even more. It isn't that bright- but compared to the darkness of everywhere else it burns. He blinks repeatedly and a soft smile turns up his face. It's the honest one that Claude has only seen on special occasions and when Sylvain is being especially intimate- slightly crooked and goofy. The smile fades into a concerned little frown nearly immediately, though, when he sees that Claude is still fully dressed.]
Yeah, there is. You're still working.
[He's coming in, mister leader man, like it or not.]
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It makes him uncomfortable, having that concerned look directed at him, knowing how easily Sylvain had seen through him even half asleep.
Would he believe Claude woke up early? ...no, not even he could pull that egregious of a lie off.]
Well, I have a lot to do, you know. I'm sure I'm not the only one working this late. [He has literally no idea what time it even is]
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[And they've gotten it from Sylvain about running themself into the ground before. He will do it again, too, but right now, Claude is the one in his sights. He saunters in and plops his ass right onto Claude's comfortably messy bed. Confident as if it were his own room, he leans back onto one hand as he covers another yawn with the other.
He eyes the desk and everything all over it, wondering what-all Claude has been doing most of the night. Truthfully he has no idea that hour either, but its dark. He turns his charming gaze back toward Claude.]
Pick one thing to finish. I'll wait.
[Bossy?!?!]
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He blinks owlishly at the demand, trying to think of just one thing he could finish right now-- wait, why is he just going along with this?]
Just go back to bed, Sylvain, I don't want to keep you up too. [He forces a smile, sitting down at his desk chair again, trying not to show how utterly overwhelmed he feels by it all.]
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You don't need to be up either, Claude. I know whatever you're doing now is more important than what you used to hunch over that desk at, but we are all gonna suffer more for a general who isn't sleeping.
[And more importantly than all of that, seeing Claude neglecting himself hurts Sylvain in surprising ways that he doesn't want to think about.]
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He sighs, the mask dropping, though his back is still to Sylvain.]
It's not that I don't want to. I just-- I can't stop thinking about all this. [He gestures at the mess of papers, voice quiet, a man at the end of his rope.] I can't sleep, my mind won't let me. There's too much to do.
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He may not know Claude's specific troubles, but "my mind won't let me sleep" is a familiar problem.]
Then... let me help you.
[He doesn't mean with the papers, and surely Claude knows that. It's been years, but... unless Claude's opinions have changed very much regarding Sylvain, there's no real reason to not share the same kinds of fun they used to. Claude needs it more than ever.]
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It probably couldn't hurt, giving this a try again. At the very least, the stress relief would do him some good. It's just like before, all in good fun, it doesn't have to mean anything.
Except, of course, that it means everything. But Claude isn't the type of person to deny himself comfort.] ...yeah, okay. [He answers softly, his face flushed.]
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He sighs, nuzzling his cheek a little against Claudes, and curling his fingers until they thread between and can wrap around to the palm of Claude's hand.] Good.
Come on, let out of that stiff chair. [He slowly untangles from Claude and steps off to the side, waiting for him to get up before grabbing at him.]
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This time he goes through with Sylvain's suggestion, getting to his feet and trying to put his focus on the other man, on anything but his responsibilities. The particular smile he levels at the other man is a rare and almost tentative thing.] You got a plan for distracting me?
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Don't I always? [He teases, flashing a wink. He slides his hand down to take a fistful of Claude's clothes and pull him back toward his own bed.]
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Sylvain's teasing words make him grin, more familiar territory than these almost unbearably tender touches. He's dragged in by his clothes, a breathless laugh escaping him as he's pulled toward the bed. Clever fingers tease at the bottom hem of Sylvain's sleep shirt, skimming across firm muscle and warm skin.] Not a bad start.
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You still blush so easily.
[He teases more, knowing the banter is a comfortable crutch for the both of them, and making Claude speak will force his brain to do something other than think about work. Hopefully. Once he's backed up to the bed, Sylvain grabs Claude by the thighs and pulls him into his lap in a fluid motion as he sits, grinning like a chesire cat.]
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It's been a while, alright?
[Over five years, in fact. Not out of any sense of staying monogamous-- they both know it isn't that sort of relationship. It's just that the list of people Claude trusts enough to let in his bed is short enough to count on one hand. The opportunity hasn't presented itself since the last time he and Sylvain had hooked up like this.
He chuckles breathily as Sylvain pulls him into his lap, straddling him and tugging his shirt up.]
You've filled out well.
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[He doesn't think that'd make a difference, really. Claude's a blushy guy, which is only made extra cute by the tone of his skin. He can't use being pale as an excuse for flushing easily. But Sylvain does feel a little jolt at the admission, and his eyes soften for it. Not pity, exactly, just an understanding that the last handful of years have been hard on them all, and that Claude really is awful at taking care of himself.
Pot, kettle, you know the drill.]
So did you, mister shoulders.
[He slides his hands up those thighs, tucking into Claude's shirt to get onto his abs and back. They leave momentarily to grab his shirt by the collar and tug it off, leaving all his new upper body strength on display to the air.]
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All that archery and wyvern riding is good for something. [He winks, arching into Sylvain's hands like an overindulgent cat. He can't help a sigh at the loss of their warmth on him, but he helps with the removal of his shirt, a small shiver running through his shoulders as his bare chest is exposed to the cool night air. He's gotten slightly more accustomed to Fodlan's climate, sure, but he's gotten used to Derdriu in the past five years. It's colder at the monastery.]
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[Overly indulgent flirting? Hey, it's distracting. Claude isn't the only one allowed a little vanity, here. But he can preen more if he likes, as Sylvain admires the new width of his chest and the strength he carries, both eyes and hands roaming. He pauses at Claude's upper arms, feeling slight goosebumps there and gives them a rough little rub.]
Aww, are you cold?
[Claude's horrible tolerance for cold will never stop being funny or a source of teasing, sorry. He makes up for it by kissing across a shoulder and up Claude's neck.]
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I am... you gonna warm me up? [He runs his fingers teasingly down Sylvain's chest, through the well-groomed trail of hair that runs down from his stomach. He'd heard someone call it a "treasure trail" once-- definitely seems apt at the moment. The thought makes him grin. Yeah, this is definitely helping to keep his mind off all his damn work.]
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I'll make you work up a sweat, [He mutters back, breathing warm against the shell of Claude's ear. He hums low, enjoying the touch, and rolling his hips a little as Claude draws near the waistband of his pants. He draws fingernails lightly up Claude's spine as he latches down on his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin.]