Chapter Text
“...I think that’s quite enough for this week’s practice. You’re improving, Petra.”
“Ah, I am feeling much gratefulness, Professor! I will be ma...making my leave now. I am feeling gratefulness to you as well, Shamir!”
Shamir had been lounging around in the Professor’s office ever since she finished training with Cyril earlier today, being able to catch Byleth and Petra’s study session. She elected to say nothing and waved the Brigid heir off as she packed up her assorted books and the like.
Petra made her leave, much more enthused than when she arrived, her grasp on Fódlan’s language improving, albeit very slowly. Idioms still eluded her and proper sentence structure will likely take even longer, but Byleth was simply content to see one of his pupils in high spirits.
That left Byleth and Shamir sitting quietly in his office as they both attended to their own business. Preferring not to sully this rare moment of silence with smalltalk, not that they were particularly good at it anyway. Routine weapons maintenance was more enticing than conversation to Shamir and she could imagine Byleth found it more prudent to finish grading papers.
This amenable silence did leave room for thought in Shamir’s mind though. It left her wondering why she spent her free time with him. They barely knew each other a few weeks ago, to be blunt, they still don’t really. All she knows is that he’s the Blade Breaker’s kid and as far as Byleth was concerned she was just some foreign mercenary acting as a knight.
There were other reasons she found herself drawn to him, reasons she’d rather not bring up if she could help it honestly. Baggage like that is best left in the past, she finds. Shamir found it best to put it out of her mind and continue focusing on weapons.
‘Can’t just replace them with some guy you know next to nothing about, Shamir. That’s not how life works. They’re gone.’
She’s beginning to brood, great. Shamir chances a glance at her silent companion and all sense of self-pity vanishes in favor of shock. Where once there was usually a stoney countenance was replaced by what she could only interpret as a genuine smile, his eyes filled with a serene calmness that could almost give Rhea a run for her money. Almost.
‘Looking at him now, he kind of reminds me of Rhea alot. Odd.’
Shamir stores that odd bit of observation for later and begins to take notice of the smaller details in his demeanor. The way he goes from one paper to the next in a brisk yet almost lack-a-daisical manner, how the softness in his eyes crinkles in slight amusement at one students’ paper or another. Probably Claude or Hilda, she figures.
‘He’s even got dimples. Cute. Wait, what am I doing? ‘
Either she said something out loud unintentionally or Byleth noticed he was being watched but his smile is dropped and exchanged for his usual blank expression as he looks up from his paperwork and shifts his gaze toward Shamir, eyebrow quirked in confusion. She groans internally and quickly decides to drop any pretense of subtlety and just cuts to the chase.
“Don’t see you smiling very often, Professor,” Shamir continues, “Your students have that much of an effect on you?” She hopes that would suffice and Byleth would drop the subject and they could just go back to that oh so delightful ambiance they both revel in so much. Byleth’s eyes soften at the mention of his students briefly before squinting curiously, confused as to why Shamir’s interested in his smile of all things.
“Is there something special about my smile, Shamir?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ve just never seen you smile before. That’s all.” She emphasizes that last part to make sure there’s no misunderstanding. Byleth didn’t look particularly convinced however and had already adopted that irritatingly cute thinking pose she sees him employ so much. Shamir takes issue with how she could find such a thing cute but decides to stuff that mental note down into her subconscious and never think about it ever again.
Byleth continues to ponder Shamir’s intent while she, for her part, is getting more and more exasperated with herself and Byleth’s cluelessness as each moment passes. Shamir’s had enough of it when she sighs and just says the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’m saying your smile is cute, Byleth.” Shamir blurts out and immediately regrets it.
“Oh. I see.”
“....”
His office falls into a state of uncomfortable silence as the two sit there, not knowing what to say or do. Shamir quickly returns to her repairing her bow, her stoic expression never fading but a far cry from the disarray in her mind.
‘Great work, Shamir. Another fantastic idea.'
Byleth looked unperturbed as usual. His chin still firmly rested in his hand as he contemplates what to say next. His sight still lingering on Shamir. An idea enters the professor’s head and a warm smile forms.
“Shamir?” Byleth says softly.
The woman in question hesitates to turn her gaze toward him but fails to resist the urge, anyway.
“What?”
“I think your smile is cute as well.” He looks quite pleased as he says this.
Shamir flinches and her regular poker face falters briefly in response before her stoicism returns and she begins to gather her things.
“I’m going now. Bye, Professor.” She states bluntly having already collected her belongings and made her way to his doorway. Her face remains unreadable as ever as she leaves.
Byleth wasn’t able to say anything before she was already gone. His own expression returns to that of its usual inclination. Feelings akin to regret begin to take hold as he hears Hanneman and Manuela outside in the hallway.
They must be returning from one of their rare lunch breaks where they could tolerate the other’s presence for more than a few minutes, Byleth reasons.
“That was Miss Navrant passing by, yes?” Hanneman asks his coworker.
“Ah,yes. Was it just me or was she looking a little red in the face? A suitor, perhaps?” Manuela notes with a hint of amusement.
“What nonsense, Manuela! What could possibly fluster someone like her? She’s a Knight, not some schoolgirl with a crush.” Hanneman chides Manuela, his tone thick with disbelief.
Byleth already prepares to block out the inevitable argument between his fellow educators when the nature of their conversation dawns on him.
A ghost of a smile returns to the professor’s lips as he goes back to grading papers.