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2019-09-04
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1/1
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Breach in Routine

Summary:

Usually Felix wakes up early easily;...He certainly doesn’t usually sleep with someone else in his bed.

--

It's an atypical morning.

Notes:

Spontaneous sylvix strikes conveniently on my weekend again.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

His worn out body betrays him.

Usually Felix wakes up early easily; internal clock reliable from years of an established routine of training before breakfast that had existed even before he had come to Garreg Mach. The only difference was that the monastery, and subsequently the war, had provided others that trained almost as hard or even as equally as he did. Whether it was going through basic maneuvers on his own or sparring with a comrade, he was typically one of the first up and moving.

Yet today he finds himself blinking blearily at an awful lot of sunlight streaming in from his window, bare back held against an equally-bare chest and another's hand resting over his. Felix certainly doesn't usually sleep with someone else in his bed. Which explains why he feels excessively warm with just a pair of trousers on, because Sylvain Jose Gautier is unsurprisingly a ridiculous living blanket. He is also still naked and pressed as close as he can be: their legs tangled together and an arm thrown over Felix whose head is tucked under Sylvain’s chin, Sylvain’s other arm somewhere under their shared pillow.

Last night...Felix had wanted that for so long. Delayed by his own stubbornness and Sylvain's previously closed off heart. Encouraged by an ever-increasing amount of time together and possibly-impending death. The latter wasn't a great reason, sure, but it had been a push.

Speaking of impending death; he needs to get up. He flips his hand over under his lover's, running long fingers feather-light against Sylvain’s larger palm. Felix absurdly wishes he was facing the other way to watch his golden eyes flutter open from sleep, but Sylvain's reflexive intertwining of their fingers is good enough.

“Mmm...good morning, Felix,” is muttered against his skin, a thumb running across his wrist and teeth nipping at the shell of his ear.

“Morning Sylvain,” Felix tries to deadpan, but he shivers despite himself. “I need you to let me up.”

He can practically hear Sylvain’s growing smile. Of course this was going to be difficult.

“Why?” Sylvain asks. “No meeting until much later today.” He disentangles their hands, but it's only to move Felix's hair out of the way so he can start pressing open-mouthed kisses down the back of his neck, pulling lightly.

“Routine,” Felix puffs out, not really sure if his head tips forward to get away or to give better access. Although if there were any more marks left high enough to be visible above his collar he would be forced to retaliate thoroughly. Sylvain relents but proceeds to push himself up on his arms, caging Felix below him, who then has to look away because someone is very very much still lacking in clothes and the idiot fucking knows it. Broad shoulders, layers of lean muscle, all of it open to him and begging to be touched.

“You can skip your morning training, can't you?” Sylvain tries. “I don't want to get up yet.”

“No. You can come with me though.”

Pouting. The redhead is pouting. “That's not what I want.”

“Then what do you want? You can stay here if you like, I'll come back.” He earns a dramatic sigh. A tilt of a handsome face and a soft smile.

“You, dummy. For a while now, remember? I just want to spend more time with you and your magnificent bedhead. I worked hard on it.”

Well shit, he'd walked right into that one. Felix scowls even though he might also be blushing, aware that he probably does look quite the mess. He's actually sore, not that he's going to be caught dead admitting that. His eyes roam back though, and he lets himself smirk because there are scratches on Sylvain's biceps and a pair of bruises at the junction of his shoulder. His hair...it's everywhere: mussed beyond recognition.

“And your hair looks better than ever,” Felix notes aloud, a little bit of fondness slipping into his voice. After all, he'd waited forever to rake his hands through that perfect look. “I don't skip training, now where did you throw your pants?”

Sylvain curiously looks over his shoulder and then to the left like he has literally no idea, leaning slightly to see if anything was just over the side of the bed. Felix thinks they're finally getting somewhere and lets his eyes fall shut, going into a full-body stretch without thinking. Tilts his head back and reaching both arms above his head, fingers splaying then curling in on themselves as he digs his heels into the mattress, his back arching slightly. Stretching is only another part of the morning routine, but when Felix opens his eyes again Sylvain is gaping at him, pupils blown wide.

“The fuck was that Fraldarius!” he whines, elbows buckling to bump his forehead against Felix's chest. “You're so mean, teasing me.”

Felix can't stop the laugh that rumbles through him, but Sylvain surges forward to shut him up with a skilled tongue in his mouth and that is effective in eliminating any significant thought process. He's weak. Heart still raw from confessions and the fresh memory of skin on skin. So he unabashedly lets out a quiet moan when Sylvain bites his lower lip and swallows the other's gasp when he licks back into his mouth. Buries his hands in thick hair again and pulls Sylvain's chest flush with his, curling a leg up around Sylvain’s thigh when he's encouraged closer still with a hand pressed to the curve of his back.

“I...hah...wasn't teasing,” Felix belatedly manages when they part for breath and his mouth is left unoccupied, kisses raining down upon his upturned throat. But then he's biting off a groan when Sylvain sucks hard and simultaneously rolls his hips, grinding them together.

There's a sharp set of knocks at the door.

They both freeze.

“You alright Felix?” Leonie asks through the wood. “Did you forget what day it is?”

A smile that is everything in the world save for innocent lights up Sylvain's features. “Be out in a minute. He's just warming up!” he calls back.

Silence, and if looks could kill they'd have just lost their star paladin.

“Sylvain?” Leonie seems unconvinced. “Is Felix really in there or are you pulling my leg?”

The swordmaster in question clamps a hand over the former’s mouth. “Sorry,” Felix answers steadily, his head dropping back to the bed in defeat. “I'll be there shortly.”

“Sure, sure. I just came by to make sure you weren't actually sick or something.” There's amusement in her voice now. “Whenever you're ready.”

Another moment of silence, Sylvain looking at Felix with laughter in his eyes until the hand over his mouth is removed. “Sorry I'm so good at distracting you?” he offers, the picture of insincerity. “I didn't realize you had a date this morning.”

Felix smacks him in the face with a pillow.

“You're right. I'm not sorry, honestly.”

That earns him the second pillow, followed by the shirt that had been under it.

When they finally do get to the training grounds (Felix was not letting Sylvain out of it now) Leonie is cleaning her bow.

“Warmed up?” she asks, eyes sweeping them both and a smirk on her face.

“Beyond limber,” Sylvain replies with a wink.

Felix makes sure that Sylvain spends the vast majority of the session on the ground.

Notes:

I'm convinced this would actually happen. It's always fun to be able to laugh to yourself while writing.

I caved and am on Twitter to indulge in all the FE3H fandom. @o3QuillFeathers