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    Summary

    It was a scant hour after lunch when Sylvain strolled into Felix’s study and sprawled out in Felix’s chair.

    “Sylvain,” Felix said, used to this particular song and dance. 

    “Felix.” Sylvain leaned back a bit more in the comfortable seat - all cushions and  mahogany, sturdy and supportive for long days at the desk. 

    “You’re in my chair.” Not only was he in Felix’s chair, he was rifling through stacks of paper, messing up a carefully organized system, smearing ink. Except, of course, he never actually messed up Felix’s paperwork; Sylvain was just a nosy bastard who couldn’t help flipping through every letter they received, digesting the bulk of the contents with unfair speed and returning everything to order.

    “Pretty sure there’s room for both of us. It’s a big chair.” 

    Felix glared. It was not a large chair. It was a chair sized for one person, currently completely occupied by Sylvain’s ass. 


    Felix planned to spend the afternoon catching up on paperwork. Sylvain is determined to distract him.

    Language:
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