Work Text:
“Is Dedue coming this year? I feel like this would be a lot safer if we had someone tall to do it.”
Claude peered up at the entryway, holding the banner Hilda wanted hung in his hands. There was a stepladder, sure, but he’d have to stand on the top rung, maybe even on his toes, to reach all the way up there. It didn’t seem that safe.
“Ugh, no,” Hilda said, as if it were a personal insult to her. “You met Ashe, right? That cute kid who works at the restaurant next to his flower shop? They’re dating now. Disgusting.”
“Hmm,” Claude said, thinking back. He’d stopped in for lunch there one day. “The one with freckles? Cute. Good for him.”
Hilda pointed at him. “None of that. Today we are here to hate love, not celebrate it. Don’t start with me.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Claude said with a laugh. He looked again at the banner in his hands, which eloquently read ‘FUCK VALENTINE’S DAY’. “Damn, we need more tall friends.”
Claude ran down the list in his mind. Dedue, probably spending a sweet evening with his new boyfriend. Lorenz, currently dating a woman he’d met in spin class, though Claude didn’t think that would last. Raphael, surely at Ignatz’s place right now. Sylvain, banned for life from their Anti-Valentine’s Day party for hooking up with someone in Hilda’s bedroom on two and a half separate occasions.
“Dimitri’s coming,” Hilda said. She was setting out drinks. “He’s a giraffe, and like super polite. I bet he’ll do it.”
“Dimitri?” Claude frowned. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think we’ve met.”
“He’s Dedue’s friend. He just got back from some job assignment across the country.”
“Ah, right. I remember Dedue mentioning something like that.” Claude set the banner aside. If that was the case, maybe he was saved from breaking his neck this time. “This’ll be his first party then, huh?”
Their Anti-Valentine’s Day parties were a long-held tradition, dating back to college, when he and Hilda had been roommates and their entire friend group happened to be single one gloomy Valentine’s Day. Claude had never cared much about the holiday either way, but it had been a great excuse to get everyone together and throw a party with plenty of liquor and candy hearts.
Since then, it had been a tradition. Attendance varied over the years, since the only firm rule was that you could not be currently in a relationship. Whoever was single and felt like taking up the duty was the host - most often Claude, who liked throwing parties and, while he was charming enough to get dates, had a hard time when it came to more long-term attachments. If not him, it was usually Hilda, who also loved parties and had incredibly high standards for partners.
But even they had had to miss the party occasionally. Some years, thinner on romance, it was a huge blowout. Other years were quieter, and one year - the Year of Schmoop, as Claude called it - there had been only four of them, and they’d spent the evening drinking wine and watching the worst romcoms they could find.
It was fun. It was much more about having a good time than moaning about being single, which Claude appreciated, as the sort of person who didn’t think being single was anything to moan about.
A timer dinged from the kitchen.
“Oh, that’ll be the cupcakes,” Claude said, and headed in to get some more food ready, leaving the banner on the side table.
He’d ask Dimitri to take care of it - if Dedue’s friend decided to show. If not, they’d figure something out.
***
“Oh, that’s him,” Hilda said, popping the cork out of another bottle of wine. The party was getting started, and they’d already emptied one - plus plenty of beers and a good variety of mixed drinks.
“Hm?” Claude handed her glass over, currently in the process of rinsing his own out. “Who?”
“Dimitri!” Hilda said. “Remember, I told you about him?”
“Oh, right,” Claude said. “The tall one.” He glanced over at the door.
It would have been a cliche to say that the world stood still, and in fact it didn’t. But it might as well have, because for a moment Claude couldn’t look at anything else. His thoughts were entirely full of oh, he is tall and someone should push that hair out of his eyes, it looks so soft and Dedue said nothing about him being so handsome, I will never forgive him for this.
“Um,” he said, eloquently, and then managed to recover. “I’m gonna - go say hi and see if he’ll put that banner up.”
But Hilda had known him far too long. She spun and narrowed her eyes. “Claude. Don’t you dare. Not on the day we’ve all agreed to hate love with all our hearts.”
Claude raised his hands and attempted to look innocent. “I would never,” he said. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Not even a little,” Hilda said with a frown. “I’m keeping an eye on you, Claude.”
“Fine, fine,” he said, and grinned at her, cheeky. “You did tell him he could only come if he was single, right?”
“Of course,” Hilda said, and rolled her eyes.
“Great,” said Claude, and before she could say anything else to stop him, he headed towards Dimitri.
The party wasn’t too full yet - at least half the guests were yet to arrive. But Dimitri lingered in the doorway, looking a little bit awkward, a lot overwhelmed, and awfully cute.
“Hey,” Claude said. “Welcome to the party. You’re Dedue’s friend Dimitri, right? I’m Claude. Feel like doing a favor for me?”
“Uh,” Dimitri looked at him like a deer in headlight. “...sure?”
He hooked the banner off the side table with an easy gesture and held it out. “Put this up above the entryway?” He grinned up at Dimitri. “I’m not quite tall enough to reach easily. You’re - what? Six feet?”
“Six two,” Dimitri said, and Claude tried not to swoon. He’d always had a thing for tall guys. “Right here?” He took the banner from Claude and, with relatively little effort and only slight use of the stepladder, got it secured. Claude took the opportunity to enjoy the view, his only real contribution being to hand Dimitri thumbtacks.
“Hey, thanks,” he said when it was all done, and he smiled at Dimitri.
Dimitri blushed.
That was about when Claude realized he was completely screwed. It only took him a second to realize that, and then another second to accept it and face his fate with courage. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Ah, thank you,” Dimitri said. “Do you have beer?”
Claude winked at him. “Wait right here.” He headed back to the kitchen, nodding a hello to Leonie and adroitly avoiding getting dragged into Felix and Caspar’s yearly comparison of their gym routines. Hilda was still in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on some homemade guacamole.
“Oh hey, Claude,” she said, and when she grinned at him Claude knew she’d seen the whole thing.
“Hilda,” he said, and he sighed the deep sigh of a condemned man. “Did you know that Dimitri looked like… that?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “I’ve met him before. Not really my type, but I guess if you like tall and blond…”
“I do,” Claude said. He poured himself a glass of wine and got a beer from the fridge - one of the nice ones, the ones he’d bought for himself and hadn’t really intended to share. “Hilda. I want to climb him like a tree.”
“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me on this day of all days,” Hilda said, crossing her arms. “There are rules, you know.”
“No there aren’t,” Claude said, because there weren’t. More than a few couples had met at this party over the years - Ingrid and Dorothea were still dating, even, and getting pretty serious. The only real rule was no hanky panky at the party itself, because they weren’t idiot teenagers and everyone knew it was shitty to make out around your single friends.
“Ugh, fine.” Hilda waved him off. “Go make a fool of yourself with that sexy broomstick of a man. I’ll host this party on my own.” But she was smiling, and he couldn’t help returning it. They both knew how long it had been since he’d been interested, really interested, in anyone.
Drinks in hand, he returned to Dimitri.
“So,” he said, “how come Dedue’s never dragged you to one of our parties before?”
Claude knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear it from Dimitri. He wanted to get to know Dimitri, find out where that blush had come from, learn everything he could. Claude had never been the sort to swoon over nothing but a pretty face, but he knew - could already tell - that Dimitri was more than that.
As it turned out, he’d been across the country helping set up a nonprofit designed to assist refugees in acclimating upon arrival. As it turned out, he’d majored in political science and had spent his career focused on Duscur, the conflict in eastern Almyra, and how the people of Fódlan could help in small ways.
As it turned out, Dimitri was not only tall, strong, and handsome, he cared deeply about injustice and creating a better world. He was polite and interested in what Claude had to say, he barely looked at anyone else in the world, and his cheeks colored just a little every time Claude smiled at him.
So yes, Claude was completely screwed.
They swapped stories about their college days, Claude told him how he’d met Dedue - an opening at a small art gallery that displayed handicrafts and art from Duscur. Claude talked about his own work researching and uncovering artifacts and documents from Fódlan’s past. Dimitri laughed at his jokes, politely fetched him another drink when his glass was dry, and didn’t seem terribly bothered when they were interrupted.
Which they were, often. These were all Claude’s friends, after all, in one way or another, and they all seemed to need to say hi, try to catch him up on their lives, or ask about his. Could they not see that he was busy with the most attractive man he’d ever met? Could they not respect his privacy in this trying time?
No. They could not. It was a miracle that Dimitri did not wander off, find someone to talk to who wouldn’t be distracted all the time. It was a miracle that he seemed to want to get to know Claude, and Claude found himself wishing that they weren’t there. Wishing that he could get Dimitri alone and really just talk to him, get to know him, learn all his secrets.
And kiss him. That would be nice.
He should have known that Hilda would realize. He should have known that Hilda, for all her laziness and occasional mockery, was the best friend he would ever have in his life. He discovered the truth of that when she strolled over and frowned at both of them.
“I’m kicking you out,” she said.
Dimitri blinked at her. “Ex - excuse me? Have I done something wrong? I’m terribly sorry -”
“Not you,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling at him. “This idiot. It’s completely against the rules of Anti-Valentine’s Day to spend all night flirting with the same guy.”
There aren’t any rules, Claude almost said, but then he realized what she was doing: giving him exactly what he wanted.
“Flirting?” Dimitri said, and there he went, blushing again.
“Oh, yeah,” Claude said, and grinned up at him, just for the pleasure of seeing the man look shellshocked. “I’ve been flirting this whole time. Or do people normally ask you how often you work out and then ask to touch your bicep?”
“They… don’t,” Dimitri said, and there was the tiniest, most uncertain smile at the corners of his mouth. “But I didn’t want to assume.”
“Oh my god,” Hilda said. “Now you’re definitely both kicked out. Get out of here before I puke.” She elbowed Claude, though he didn’t need any encouragement.
“How about it? You want to get out of here?”
Dimitri seemed to be regaining his composure. “I’d hate to take you away from your own party.”
“Nah,” Claude said, “there’ll be more parties. I’m thinking I’d like a quieter night tonight.”
“I see,” Dimitri said. “I’d ask you out to dinner, but…”
“Everything’s gonna be booked up, yeah.” Claude grinned. “How about we go back to my place, order a pizza, and watch a movie?”
Something in the set of Dimitri’s shoulders relaxed. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” Claude said, and he kissed Hilda on the cheek - making a mental note to talk her up to that cute blue-haired girl at the vet’s office around the corner, the one they all knew she had a huge thing for - and got his coat.
They left together, Claude ignoring the knowing looks his friends were shooting his way. Dimitri held the door for him, because of course he did, and Claude felt an unfamiliar sense of excitement. He’d never wanted to just know someone like this before. Waiting for the elevator, he shot a look at Dimitri, and caught his blue eyes on Claude and - ridiculously - Claude found himself blushing.
“Hey,” he said, and before he could talk himself out of it he turned toward Dimitri, raised up on his toes, and pressed their lips together - which was only possible because Dimitri had also leaned down, meeting him in the middle.
It was not a long kiss, but Claude could not remember the last time that he’d felt that kind of instant connection, like lightning in his veins. Dimitri’s arm slid around his waist, steadying him, and they leaned into each other.
The elevator dinged, and Claude pulled away with more than a little reluctance. Dimitri was smiling, a sweet and shy thing, and Claude knew he was smiling too.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, soft, and took Dimitri’s hand, tugging him into the elevator.