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“Alright, let’s see this formation in practice,” Byleth said, snapping their book closed. “I will see all of you on the training fields in ten minutes.”
Half the class cheered, although Bernadetta warbled a low noise of distress.
“And can someone wake up Linhardt?” With that, they tucked the book under their arm and strode out the door, leaving their students aflutter with movement as they gathered scrolls and weaponry. Edelgard was first to follow, almost on their heels, and Hubert skulked after her. Moments later Ferdinand trailed them at a brisk pace, as if he could out walk Edelgard, as if that meant anything at all.
Bernadetta stared at Linhardt’s sleeping form with a mournful expression, as if terrified he’d leap out of sleep and attack her if she so much as tried to speak to him to rouse him. He lay half across the desk, shoulders rising and falling with slow sleepy breaths.
With a curious expression on her face, Petra stepped a little closer. She had seen first hand these past few weeks how difficult a task this could be. “What has been being most useful so far?” she asked, and then when no one answered her right away, she added, “Caspar?”
It was true he was the most likely one to know. It hadn’t taken long for everyone to realize that the two had a way of managing each other that went beyond a casual friendship. When you needed Caspar to do something (or stop doing something) you asked Linhardt, and when you needed the same of Linhardt, you went to Caspar. It didn’t always work, but the success rate was still higher than expected, considering how stubborn the two of them were-- albeit in very different ways.
Caspar screwed up his face in thought. “Sometimes I just yell, but he’s gotten pretty good at blocking that out.” He’d also tried pouring cold water over him, but the last time he’d done that in the classroom he’d gotten in pretty big trouble, so that was mostly an outside tactic for now.
Dorothea snorted. “Well, let’s see you try,” she said, her voice warm in that way she had of making it seem like she was laughing with him, not at him. Still, he wasn’t sure.
“Okay, okay…” Caspar cupped both hands around his mouth and screamed, “WAKE UP!”
Bernadette squeaked in terror and dashed from the room, presumably (hopefully?) following the others to the training grounds. Linhardt, however, didn’t move a muscle.
“See?” Caspar said, annoyed, “he’s immune. You try. He doesn’t know your voices as well.”
Petra seemed to seize on the game with glee, letting out a blood curdling scream that shook the rafters, and yet Linhardt did not wake. They both turned to Dorothea, and she shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I may not be a professional singer anymore, but I still must take care of my vocal cords.”
Well, that was that. Caspar was almost ready to give up-- what if they were so late that the Professor started the demonstration without them? He’d been antsy all day, he couldn’t miss even a second of training. As he was about to say this and run from the room, Dorothea’s facial expression changed to one of thoughtfulness.
“Actually… there may be a way. I was in an opera once where I played a princess who slept the days away, and was awoken by a special technique.” she pressed a finger to her lower lip, hesitating. “It may be too advanced for you, though.”
“What? Tell me!” Caspar demanded, and she laughed. Petra also looked interested, so she relented.
“Alright… Well, in the opera, the princess could be awoken only with… well, with a kiss.”
“WHAT?!” Caspar yelped, as Petra gasped in shock. He was relieved to see that Petra’s face was reddening too, and that he wasn’t alone in his sudden feeling of embarrassment.
“It’s worth a shot,” Dorothea said, unruffled by their reactions. “Why don’t you go first?” She gestured at Linhardt’s head, face down on the desk, and Caspar felt his face flare even hotter.
“I-- I-- you-- you’ve got experience so you should do it!” he yelped, and she nodded slowly.
“That’s reasonable. I’ll demonstrate, then. Petra, will you help me lift his head up?”
Caspar gaped at the two girls as they levered Linhardt to a sitting position. He didn’t look much like a sleeping princess. His hair fell into his face, and he was drooling a little bit. Dorothea tsked and wiped at his chin with a kerchief, looking more like a mother than like someone about to kiss a classmate. He couldn’t handle it anymore.
“W-wait!” Caspar blurted, and both Petra and Dorothea turned to look at him. “I. I mean.” He could feel his face burning. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say. Petra flapped a hand at Dorothea, and when she leaned close, whispered in her ear. Dorothea nodded. Caspar thought he caught the word 'jealous', but he couldn't handle the idea of that right now.
“I have experience too!” he didn’t. “So I’ll do it!” He cringed at the lie, but they both seemed to be smiling at him with something like… sympathy? Dorothea gestured again, as if to say ‘go ahead’. Linhardt’s head lolled on Petra’s shoulder.
Goddess, what was he doing? Caspar glanced from Dorothea, to Petra, then back again, like one of them would save him somehow, but they both were just waiting. He clenched his fists. “Okay!”
Awkwardly, he clambered into the seat next to Linhardt, glaring at him like this was his fault. With clumsy and unsure movements, he leaned in slowly, trying to get the angle right. Why did the girls have to be watching?! Once he was less than an inch away, he closed his eyes and lurched forward.
Linhardt’s mouth was kind of damp (probably the drooling) and sort of warm. It wasn’t unpleasant. He was about to pull away when he heard Petra gasp and a hand cup the back of his head, and then just like in the opera Dorothea had mentioned Linhardt came alive under him, kissing him back slowly. After a few seconds, the hand on the back of his head grabbed his hair and pulled him back, and he was gasping for air, looking into his friend’s face.
Linhardt was awake. Awake, and frowning at him, his cheeks dusted with pink.
Also, it was his hand in Caspar’s hair. Shockingly, that felt almost as nice as the kissing had.
“I don’t believe it’s strictly ethical to kiss someone without their permission,” Linhardt told him in a flat voice.
“I! It was Dorothea’s--” Caspar floundered, trying to point towards Dorothea-- who he just realized was fleeing the room, Petra in tow, leaving him to face the consequences alone. “It was her idea,” he finished lamely.
Linhardt watched him for a moment, lips twisted into a disappointed expression, and then released Caspar’s hair with a sigh. “Well. Thank you for stopping her. If given the choice, I would prefer it be you.”
“You were awake?!” Caspar squeaked, and Linhardt shrugged.
“I thought if I outlasted your curiosities the three of you would leave me to sleep.” He rubbed at his eyes, blinking slowly. The sight was familiar to Caspar-- and, he realized with a start, it was cute. His cheeks flared red again.
It was then that Caspar realized he’d missed a key component of what Linhardt had just said. “Wait, hold on!” he yelled, and Linhardt swung his gaze back to him, face unimpressed. He didn’t have to say a word for Caspar to lower his voice back to a normal level. “Did you say… you’d prefer me?”
“I’d prefer not being kissed without being asked,” Linhardt grumbled, but Caspar could tell he was embarrassed in the way his gaze drifted up to the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes. He scooted closer, his knees bumping the side of Linhardt’s seat.
“What if I asked?” Caspar said urgently. He couldn’t explain why this suddenly felt more important than catching up with the rest of the class. He could punch stuff later. This was something new.
Linhardt hesitated, then met his gaze directly. Caspar felt a jolt run down his spine. “Alright,” he said finally, and Caspar barely contained a whoop of victory. He still did a little fist pump, and Linhardt snorted with laughter.
“Alright!” Caspar said, determined. He gripped the edge of the table and leaned in again.
Kissing awake Linhardt was different from kissing sleeping Linhardt (Or at least, pretending-to-be-sleeping Linhardt). He seemed to instinctively know stuff that Caspar was still figuring out, tilting his head to fix the angle, grabbing the front of Caspar’s collar to keep him close… Caspar melted into the kiss with a happy sigh, and was rewarded with a sound like a happy hum from his friend. It reminded him of a purring cat, and he broke away to laugh at that thought, although not far-- Linhardt’s grip on his shirt was surprisingly strong. He could feel him breathing against his cheek.
“We have class,” he gasped, and Linhardt tugged on his collar like a spoiled child.
“That may be so, but this is more important,” he replied, voice low, and Caspar almost fell for it, leaning in again, before he paused at the last second.
“Are you doing this to get out of training?” he asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him. What a devious plot!
“Ah, you caught me,” Linhardt replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, which Caspar felt wasn’t really an answer, but then Linhardt closed the distance between them, and he decided it didn’t really matter.
After that, they didn’t talk for awhile, and they never did make it to training in the end.