Chapter Text
There are not many things in this world Claude hates. Capitalism, health insurance, criminalization of homelessness, and... Okay. so maybe there are a lot of things he hates. With a small grimace, he rolls his shoulders to dislodge snow that had fallen and built up in his hair. But what of it? Snow though? Right now, snow is at the top of that list. Fuck snow.
Ice, the cold, snow? All of it can take a long walk off a short bridge. And yet somehow he’s in Antarctica, writing an article about the impact of melting ice on wildlife.
He shivers again and grumbles quietly. One of the scientists is sitting nearby, taking samples of ice and summarizing her notes about the penguin count she did the other day, and she laughs. “Still not used to the cold?”
“I’m like my reptiles, I like the sun and the heat.” He flashes his most charming grin at her, and they both go back to taking notes.
So far, the best part of this trip has been the photographer he was paired with. This was their second posting together, and they really jived well. Their last piece together was a hit. Both the blog article and the published scientific journal.
They were one hell of a photographer, taking risks most of the people he’s worked with wouldn’t dare consider. When he’d first worked with them, they’d been photographing and recording data about incredibly deadly venemous snakes. After they’d parted ways he’d shamelessly looked up Byleth online. They were definitely one of the best photographers he’d ever seen, and Claude had worked with many. Their portfolio was filled with an assortment of rare and dangerous flora and fauna. To call it simply impressive was to damn it with faint prasie.
And all that was nothing in comparison to the person taking the photos. Byleth was not a tall person, but you wouldn’t know it at first glance. Their confidence alone is enough to make you think they’re ten feet tall, when in reality they’re half a foot shorter than he is, and he is not a tall man.
Their teal hair is almost always bound back away from their face which only draws attention to the vibrant sea green of their eyes. Subtle expressions that were hard to catch, and a laugh he prided himself on being able to draw from them.
Working together with them had been an enjoyable experience, thats for certain.
Except this time, Byleth wasn’t sitting next to him keeping him company. He was just watching them though a go pro live feed that was hanging from a float about ten feet away from Byleth. Also it was underwater. Like Byleth. Because they had decided they wanted to take pictures of animals underwater. In the Antarctic.
Because that wouldn’t be mind numbingly cold or anything.
So far they hadn’t had much luck; he hasn’t seen anything from the live feed except Byleth just floating there. None of the penguins had swam by yet.
“Bored, are ya?” The scientist from earlier raises an eyebrow at him.
“I can’t be the only one—you’re counting up tallies instead of looking at penguins today.” He can see the scientist roll her eyes. He should probably ask her name but he’d forget it anyway. There’s like forty scientists stationed at this research site they’re visiting and he never sees any of them for very long.
“The paperwork isn’t so bad, but I have no idea how you’re going to make an interesting article out of this,” she says, packing away her notes while she talks.
“It could be worse,” Claude laughs. And then chokes on his laugh.
Because there’s something other than just Byleth on the live feed. And it’s a very large something.
“Holy shit that’s a leopard seal. That’s amazing!”
Standing over his shoulder and peering into the monitor displaying the live feed, the scientist next to him has dropped her notes entirely and is now calling over her fellows to look at the feed with her.
Claude, meanwhile, is filled with unholy terror because, uh, that seal is three times as long as Byleth is tall.
And it just tried to fit Byleth’s camera, and their head, in its mouth.
“Is that.. normal behavior? For a leopard seal?” He hopes his voice doesn’t betray the strain he’s feeling, because Sothis help him, that’s a very, very big seal. And Byleth has turned to follow it with their camera, and is making no move to get out of the water.
“No clue, this is the first time we’ve seen one interact with a diver in the water like this,” was the absent minded reply. “We don’t get many scuba divers here.”
No surprise there.
What follows is the most stressful and anxiety inducing sixty minutes of his life, which is saying something, considering everything his profession involves him being near is dangerous.
On one hand, Claude knows Byleth is safe. The dive supervisor hasn’t reacted with panic and she’s in contact with Byleth through a headset.
On the other hand, Claude doesn’t handle inaction well.
He alternates between walking around to warm up and sitting and staring at the live feed. Or he did, until he sat back down from a round of pacing to find himself looking at a seal, and very murky red water, and no Byleth.
To say his blood froze would be hyperbole, because everything is frozen and snow is evil, but it’s not far off.
He’s frantically looking toward the dive supervisor when the seal moves away from the camera and Claude can see that Byleth is safe.
Flopping down gracelessly into the chair he was sitting in before, he rests his head in his hands and groans.
One of the scientists nearby pats him on the shoulder and continues making notes about the leopard seal’s behavior.
Claude checks his watch, and there’s forty more minutes of this agony to go before Byleth surfaces.
Waiting is almost as bad as snow.
-
Somehow in the interim of everything, Claude manages to get a decent outline for his article, waiting only on information and photos from Byleth to flesh it out and add the finishing flourishes he’s known for. Head bent over his writing, it takes him a moment to realize there’s a flurry of activity where Byleth’s dive area is, and that they’re finally surfacing.
He stays put, knowing he won’t be the least bit helpful, and waits patiently for Byleth to come and change into dry and warm clothes before he launches into questions.
It’s not long before he hears footsteps crunching in snow and Byleth sits next to him, hands wrapped around a flask of something steaming hot in their gloved hands.
“That leopard seal tried to feed me a penguin.”
Claude chokes on a laugh, “it what? Really?”
Byleth, face straight like they’re dealing cards at a poker table, nods. Pausing to sip from their drink, the corner of their mouth quirks up in what, in anyone else, would be a full blown grin.
“It herded two live penguins my way before bringing me a dead one and pushing it at me.”
Claude, quickly jotting down notes as they talk, can’t help but shake his head. “I’m guessing you didn’t eat the penguins huh?”
“Unfortunately, my mask got in the way.” Byleth downs the rest of their flask while Claude keeps making notes and asking questions. Wanting to make sure he gets as much of this in their article as possible.
They work well together and it doesn’t take long before their back and forth produces something he’s confident will turn out amazing, although Byleth’s pictures are going to steal the show.
They lean over and show him a photo that’s basically the inside of the leopard seal’s jaws. “She tried to eat my camera. It’s even got teeth marks on it now.”
Claude shakes his head at them and leans back in his chair. He’d noticed the first time they worked together that Byleth was daring, even for their field, but this was beyond the pale.
“Were you even a little afraid? That seal was massive.” He’s curious, though he’d bet money on their answer.
“No, not really,” they say, shrugging away the idea.
A bet he would have won.
“You are surreal.”
“Thank you.”
—
The trip back to Fódlan is uneventful and he and Byleth have already sent off the article and photos to the proper places, so there’s not much to do.
So they play cards.
It turns out Byleth is very good at cheating at cards, and chess, and checkers.
Sitting on the frigid deck with a checkers board between them, and he’s long since stopped trying to win and now he’s just trying to catch them at their cheating.
“I saw that!”
Byleth deadpans, “No clue what you’re talking about.”
“You just added three of your own pieces back to the board.” He huffs, exaggeratedly indignant, and it earns him a subtle hint of a smile.
“Prove it.” And, in full view not even hiding it, they take two of his pieces off the board.
“Very funny.”
They sit there bickering back and forth for a while, and there’s only a few hours left before they’re back on the mainland and go their separate ways. He’s been trying all week to ask for their number, and so far he’s not quite managed it.
Oh, who was he kidding, he’s barely even tried. He wants to be subtle about it but they’re so hard to read, it leaves him at a loss.
And the hours tick on by.
And they dock.
And there’s a helicopter for him, and a car for them.
And they go their separate ways.
It’s not until he’s safely at home, checking in on his reptile collection and texting Hilda to let her know he’s back and to see if she wants to go with him to take his Tegu in for a checkup that it sinks in that he did not get their number.
He falls back into his couch with a loud huff, to the mild indignation Pesto the Tegu who is now running around the house gleefully.
“Dammit.”
—
Hilda met him for dinner the next day at Pancakes4U, the best junk breakfast house around. In between bites of waffle and sips of terrible coffee he told her about how the trip went.
She was the perfect audience for this sort of story, gasping at the leopard seal and cooing at the pictures of penguins he showed her.
But, as always, she was far too clever at reading between the lines, even when he didn’t realize there was something to be read.
“Every other thing you’ve said for the past hour has been about your photographer,” Hilda sighed dramatically and waved her fork in the air. “Did you even get their number?”
Claude winced, “they aren’t my photographer. And why on earth would I wan-”
“You’ve got it so bad you didn’t even get their number,” Hilda rolls her eyes, and scoffs. “You haven’t dropped the ball like that with someone you were into since freshman year of college.”
Claude glares half heartedly at her. “Ugh, if you’re going to keep laughing at me I’m not letting you come with me to take Pesto to the vet.”
He’s got her with that one, her face turns almost as pink as her hair she’s blushing so much.
“I don’t even like your weird frog monster”
“Tegu”
“Named Pesto, I am aware.” She’s still blushing as she glares at him. “It’s not my fault your vet is hot and I am gay and have no pets.”
“I keep telling you to just ask Marianne to get dinner with you, she’s nice. She might even say yes.”
Claude ducks as Hilda chucks a packet of wannabe-sugar at his head, and the glare from the waitress is enough to get them to pay for their meals and leave. Still giggling as they duck out of the door.
“Please tell me you gave her a nice tip to make up for that?”
“I left a 20”
“Good man”
“You know it.”
-
It’s a quick trip back to his place to pick up Pesto and then on to Blue Paw’s veterinary hospital. It’s a nice little building, appropriately themed with bright blue roof and a blue paw print on the sign out front.
Ashe is working the counter today and he greets them with an excited hello before dipping back behind a door and calling for Marianne.
“Linhardt’s busy doing a house call out to Leonie’s stables or he’d come say hello to Pesto too,” Ashe says with a bright smile.
“Just Pesto huh?” Claude shakes his head, “I see how it is.”
“Well we wouldn’t want to forget to say hello to Hilda of course,” a sweet voice chimes in.
Marianne steps into the room with quiet grace, and Hilda flushes from the tips of her toes to the crown of her forehead. Claude muffles a snort.
“What does that make me then?”
“Pesto’s taxi driver?” Hilda grins at him sweetly while Marianne and Ashe laugh.
“Haha, very funny. I guess no one wants to hear about the amazing everything I saw on this trip huh?”
After a few moments of humor filled placating, Claude and Pesto are in a back room getting Pesto checked over and affirming his clean bill of health.
It doesn’t feel like it takes, long, but it’s long enough that when they step out to the lobby area he can hear Hilda and Ashe giggling furiously.
“And the whole time we’re eating he’s practically drooling over this person he’s met twice and still doesn’t have their number.” Hilda’s leaning on the counter, legs crossed and flipping her hair in the air to add emphasis to her words.
“Oh no, poor Claude, “ Ashe shakes his head, and then turns bright red when he sees Claude in front of him.
“Hilda, what?”
She has the gal to turn toward him with a wink, “oh hey Claude, I was just telling Ashe about your crush on that hot photographer. What was their name again?”
“I do not have a crush on anyone, you’re being silly. And their name is -” his reply is cut off by Ashe’s greeting.
“Byleth! Hi, what brings you in today?”
Claude turns around slowly, grateful beyond words he doesn’t blush like his friend’s do. Because, sure as sunshine, there’s Byleth. Teal hair loose, wearing the strangest outfit he’s ever seen; fish print leggings and cut off overalls over a purple shirt. And holding a large and shaking cat carrier.
Byleth looks at him and blinks, “Claude?”
He nods. “Is this your vet?” He’s still staring at them, just, struck with disbelief that the person he’s been talking about non stop since meeting Hilda for dinner is here. In his vet’s office. The one run by his friends.
“Yup,” and Byleth raises the cat carrier in their hand by way of emphasis.
Claude can hear a loud, hideous snarling yowl coming from the depths of the cat carrier, and without thinking, inches a little bit further away. “Does it usually make that sound?”
Byleth closes their eyes, as if to will themselves more strength, and sighs. “Yes.”
Marianne steps around him and takes the carrier from Byleth, “I’ll take Sothis on to the back. Is it just the check up shots?”
“Can you check her teeth? She chewed through another window while I was gone.” Byleth says this without even a twitch to indicate exaggeration and Claude has to catch himself from having his jaw drop.
“Oh dear, another one? I’ll make sure to check on her, not to worry Byleth.” And with that Marianne steps around to the back, taking the now quiet demon cat with her.
Claude and Byleth are staring at each other, almost awkwardly. Ashe or Hilda coughs, he’s not sure which. And there’s so many things he could say, but all he can think of is, “your cat chewed through multiple windows?”
It was the right thing to say, he thinks, judging from the tiny smile that escapes Byleth.
“Sothis is a very determined cat,” they shrug, and whatever awkwardness in the air seems to dissipate. He can hear Hilda and Ashe chatting in the background but all he can really see is Byleth.
“Do you live around here?”
They nod, “yes. Further in the woods than in the city.”
He grins, “somehow I didn’t picture you as a city person anyway.”
“You pictured correctly it sounds like,” they shrug, and look down at their outfit, and then at his. Cutoff overalls compared to a button up and nice jeans. It was an interesting contrast, and he raised an eyebrow at them.
It’s a heartbeat or two of silence between them, and then they speak at the same time.
“Do you wanna get dinner?”
“Want to exchange numbers?”
At that they both break into smiles, real ones, and he can hear Byleth laugh. He reaches into his pocket and hands them his phone, as they hand him theirs.
At that moment Marianne slips back into the room, Byleth’s demon cat safely in the carrier again. They thank her, and then look at Claude for a moment in contemplation.
“Text me when and where for dinner tomorrow. I have to take Sothis home, she hates being in the carrier.”
“Count on it,” and he winks as they roll their eyes and slip outside.
Hilda and Ashe high five as Marianne takes Pesto out of his crate to give him one last scratch before he and Claude head home.
“Well, that was certainly something.”
“Yeah,” Claude says, lost in thought as he watches their car drive away. “They really are.”