Chapter Text
Glenn’s grinning as he shoves the box in Felix’s arms, wide and shit-eating, and Felix’s hackles raise instinctively.
“What,” Felix says, eyes narrowing. “The fuck is this, Glenn.”
“Early birthday present, little bro. Or like, early bonus present, since your birthday isn’t for another month and I already gave you tickets to that con you weren’t invited to panel for at Christmas. I saw this online and thought of you.”
That’s never a good sign. Glenn is only ever reminded of other people by things he knows annoy them. For all Felix knows, this could be some kind of refurbished Furby because Felix had cried that one time as a four year-old because Glenn had shoved one in his face at the toy store. Or a Kirito figma to taunt Felix about his SAO phase. Or an Uchiha headband and sharingan contacts to tease him about—
“Just open it,” Glenn says, laughing. “I promise, Felix, you’ll like it.”
That’s not reassuring.
Felix sighs, setting the box on the coffee table. The junk drawer has scissors in it somewhere, and he pulls it open, rifling through its disastrously unorganized contents. Too bad he’d cut his nails yesterday or he’d have been able to rip the tape off the packaging with his bare hands, no problem. And his keys are all the way in the office rather than in their usual place in his pocket because the only plan for today after his morning run had been recording the next part of his ironman run of Sacred Stones.
Sylvain always complains that the drawer is a mess, and usually Felix would just point out that it’s called a “junk drawer” for a reason, but given how he’s now jabbed himself with a stapler and at least two screws, he can see Sylvain’s point. He’ll just tell Sylvain to organize it instead of whining the next time he brings it up.
At last, Felix unearths a pair of scissors. Safety scissors, which he didn’t even know they had, because what are they, four? But scissors nonetheless, and hopefully enough to get the job done. Felix is pretty sure they don’t own a box-cutter.
He returns the box, pointedly ignoring the way Glenn’s not even bothering to hide his gleeful grin behind a hand, and stabs the packing tape with his shitty safety scissors.
Nothing happens.
“Fuck, okay. Glenn give me your keys.”
Glenn lets out a guffaw. “No way, this is way more entertaining.”
“Hey, asshole, do you want me to open your thing or not? I’m happy to just toss it out because I’m sure it sucks.”
“Wow, hey, rude. I bought that for you.”
Felix rolls his eyes. “You bought this so you could have entertainment while you watched me open it. But if you’re not going to help me with that, I guess you don’t get to have fun.”
“Fine, fine,” Glenn says, digging into his pocket and pulling out his keys. He dangles them mockingly. “Be that way, Felix.”
Felix grunts and yanks the keys out of Glenn’s grasp. The tape comes apart easily this time. He throws the keys carelessly back at Glenn, a vindictive smile rising on his lips as Glenn almost misses the purposely bad toss.
“Real mature, Felix.” Glenn barks out a laugh. “Actually, not unlike this gift.”
Felix doesn’t respond, pulling apart the flaps of the box and throwing the large bubble wrap aside. He can already hear Sylvain’s lecture about the needless waste of plastic in single-use packaging, but it’s not Felix’s fault that wherever Glenn got this from did that. Or if Glenn did it himself.
At the bottom of the box is a single white item, folded over on itself. It’s almost innocuous.
“You got me a bedsheet? That’s… creative.”
Glenn snorts. “Felix, why the fuck would I get you bedsheet? Open it.”
Felix complies, picking up the package and peeling away the wrapping. It unfolds in his lap, unfurling into an oblong, rectangular shape, printed with—
“What the fuck, Glenn.”
Glenn bends in half, cackling. “It’s great, right?”
Felix grimaces. “Where did you even find an Ike dakimakura? Actually—don’t answer that, I don’t want to know what you were looking for.”
“Oh, but that’s not even the only one. It’s not even the best one! There was another one where the only thing he was wearing was Ragnell, and—”
“Why would I want to know this.”
“You tell me, Felix, I know you still use that Ike titty mousepad I got you a couple years ago.”
“Telling you about Fire Emblem was a mistake.”
“Oh, come on, it’s great artwork! I’ve even got the body pillow to go with it in my car. I just wanted to see your face first.”
“You’re the worst.”
“And,” Glenn continues, ignoring Felix and whispering conspiratorially, “with this, you can even upgrade your boyfriend for a better bed partner.”
Felix throws the pillowcase in his face.
Later:
“I can’t believe you’re actually going to use it,” Sylvain whines, poking sadly at the new body pillow spilling over into his half of the bed.
“You don’t get to talk,” Felix says, eyes narrowing. “We literally have an Ike pinup calendar in our office that’s your fault.”
“Hey, you like that calendar!”
“Yeah, and this pillow cover is made of good cotton, so shut up.”
“Right, well. Can we at least move it to your other side? I don’t want to spend all night cuddling with Ike. You can hug your Ike pillow and I can hug you.”
Felix thinks for a moment. “Fine.”
Sylvain tosses the offending item over Felix’s body and leans in, draping an arm loosely across Felix’s waist.
“Good night, Fe.”
“Good night, Ike.”
Felix shakes with laughter as Sylvain lets out another wounded noise.