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Exhausted. That is how Hubert feels when he trudges his way back to the Imperial capital. He had been sent off on diplomatic business on the outskirts of Adrestia, towards Alliance territory for the past two or so weeks. At least, that was what was spoken among the nobles of the court, as well as the commoners of the city. In reality, he had been chasing after a lead on TWSITD after capturing one of their men and earning a fair amount of information from their interrogations.
However, the search ended up being rather futile. While they did find a hide out, it was filled with nothing more than lackeys. None had any useful information upon the base of the organization, but what they did have plenty of were men and demonic beasts. Hubert had taken a selection of his battalion along with him for the mission, but everyone did not come back. Despite his best efforts, he had lost a handful of soldiers, crumbled by the ferocity of those wretched beasts.
While he was never one great with grief or condolences, he did his best to offer a small burial for each before he dragged his tiresome bones and solemn soldiers back towards Enbarr. The journey back was worse than the original trip. His head had been full of arrogant pride, eager to gain a shred of intel on where to look next, to find out about the true sinister identity and origins of TWSITD. But that all was shattered when it had been clearly a set up.
The enemy had been ready, prepared even for their onslaught. Hubert usually wouldn’t have fallen for such easy bait, but he was pulling at straws at this point. So many dead leads and lack of knowledge was driving him mad. There were many nights that he stayed up for hours, filing through the same collection of notes, or the same artifacts from prior battles. As if he might find some clue he missed, a hidden message that would light up the path.
Alas, no such thing occurred. His spy network had been running dry these past few moons, and it was nearly causing him to tear his hair out. The stress of it all showed in his face with the heavy bags under his eyes, irritable mood swings, and constant sense of paranoia that settled in the back of his mind. He had lost the sense of calm composure and intellectualism he usually withheld. Not only was this aggravating for the man himself, as he felt like he was never able to perform his duties to his full potential any more, but it worried his partner terribly.
While their relationship was still a bit muddy at times, Ferdinand cared deeply for the overworked mage. The two had confessed and started their courtship shortly after the war ended, but now, nearly half a year later, Ferdinand still felt a divide between them. He wanted nothing more than to cross it; to let Hubert know that he was not going to shy away from him. Even his darkest parts were to be cherished, no matter how tangled or scarred.
Tonight was no exception. Knowing of his return, Ferdinand kept himself awake, waiting for him to return to his quarters. This was not the first night he had stayed up for Hubert. These missions were a regular occurrence, but what had changed was his approach. Before, he had wished to greet him with wide open arms and a heart ready to pour all his affections. He had missed his presence dearly after all. Yet, such kind but brazen displays were not the best choice for a man who freshly returned from such gruesome, wretched pursuits.
Instead of such loud, explicit declarations of love, Ferdinand decided to take a page from Hubert’s book. He began to use more of his actions than his words. So, as Ferdinand poured over a new proposal upon Hubert’s desk, his attention switched over to the sound of keys jostling and the click of the lock loosening. The doorknob twists and the door slowly swings open to reveal the tall silhouette of the Minister of the Imperial Household. The flickering flames of the candles slowly illuminate his form, bringing his battered state into the light.
His robes were torn in various spots, covered with dried blood and mud. There were even a few singed pieces of fabric, where he had likely been grazed by a Fireball in the midst of combat. His eyes seemed rather dull, as if clouds had settled within them to stifle the vivid hue of green that usually looked back at him. Beneath them were sunken bags, indicating a lack of sleep while traveling back and forth. His hair was untidy. As if he had merely run fingers through it and called it a day. Various pieces of hair stuck out in different directions, something the mage usually hated, but didn’t seem to care about in the moment.
“You are awake. I suppose I should have expected that.” Hubert says, his voice calm and emotionless. He walks across the room, shrugging off his cape and jacket, folding them and placing them on top of a dresser to be cleaned and repaired at another time.
It is at this time that Ferdinand takes a closer look, feeling relief that there were no heavy stains of blood upon his white undershirt. He had not been severely injured then. While he is certain Hubert could take care of himself, that didn't mean he always did. He has gone through the trouble of waking Linhardt in the middle of the night before because Hubert assumes things could wait until morning. A trait he disliked in his partner; his lack of care for his own wellbeing. Setting his stack of papers down, he turns around in his chair and watches as Hubert removes his boots next.
“You know I have adopted your bad habit of working late into the evening hours.” He comments, eyes glued to him as he tucks the boots into the corner. “Besides, you were scheduled for returning this evening. I would not wish to miss such an occasion.”
Standing up, he steps from the main bedroom to walk across to the washroom down the hall. He goes through the cabinets and drawers to fetch a few things, ready to begin his ritual-like procedure for Hubert’s return from battle. He grabs a small set of bandages, a few vulneraries, a small container of floral scented lotion, a wash cloth, a hand towel, and a small basin which he goes to fill with water. He makes sure it is set to a warm enough temperature, heating the water to a preferred mild heat with the use of faint fire magic. He had never been one for sorcery, but the professor had him learn a handful of basic spells for survival situations.
Loading up his arms, he carries his haul back to the main room where Hubert hand undressed more. He currently sat on the edge of his bed, left in his socks, smallclothes, and a fresh linen shirt for slumber. Sitting beside him, Ferdinand sets the basin of water upon the floor and sets the other items on the other side of him upon the bed. He reaches forward, waiting for Hubert to offer his hands into his palms.
“It was another dead end.” Hubert starts to explain, sighing as Ferdinand peels off his gloves to reveal the charcoal stained hands with magic scarring that wrapped up to his wrists. “I fear I am losing all connections.”
As he spoke, Ferdinand looked over the injured hands. They tremble slightly every few moments, likely still feeling the aftershocks of his magic use from the mission. He gently rubs his thumbs over his knuckles, feeling the smooth skin that lies beneath the magic warped hands. He flips them over, looking for any serious cuts or gashes in the flesh. Luckily, there is nothing new to be seen tonight. He would not need the vulneraries or bandages.
So, Ferdinand grabs the wash cloth and lifts the basin of water up to his lap. He balances it before dipping the cloth into the water, letting it soak up the warmth. Then, he squeezes it so it doesn’t drip upon the bed sheets. He reached forward for his hands, and he is grateful Hubert complies with his wishes tonight. There were nights where he would return bitterly and refuse said treatment, but it seemed his exhaustion overtook any bruised pride or desire to remain stoic in the face of injury.
“You have said the very thing before, but it is always a lie. You mustn’t worry yourself needlessly. In time, you will find your answers.” He reminds him, speaking in a soft tone, not necessarily a whisper, but very quiet and tranquil.
He dips the hands into the water, then begins to run the washcloth over the right one slowly. He is light with his touch, not scrubbing but gliding the cloth across each finger. He is meticulous, making sure to rinse off every inch of skin. He hums a quiet tune as he does this, which is a pleasant distraction for Hubert. While he often mocked him for being such a chatterbox, he appreciates the sense of “home” that comes with hearing Ferdinand’s voice. He knows that he is somewhere safe; that he can pause his worries for a brief reprieve as his lover delicately tends to his sore, mistreated hands.
“When will that time be, Ferdinand?” Hubert asks, sounding exasperated as Ferdinand switches his attention to the left hand. The cloth feels pleasant, as does the faint warmth of the water upon his skin.
There were days where he couldn’t even feel the temperature of water this mild, it had to be scalding for any reaction. Truthfully, that was one of the various reasons Ferdinand began to perform such a tedious ritual. He wanted to keep working to retain a sense of feeling in Hubert’s hands. He knew that his magic was rather taboo, and it also did irreversible damage to the body when used without limits. The pain he self inflicted broke Ferdinand’s heart. For a man who claimed not to care greatly of relationships, he was willing to damage himself in the name of protecting and fighting for the people of the Empire, her Majesty, and those he held dear.
“Shhh, do not stress yourself any further.” Ferdinand warns, giving a final wash over his hands before placing the basin back onto the floor. He grabs the small hand towel and dries off each hand with gentle pats. “Wars are not won in a day, you know this. But please, do not speak of it any longer. You are home. Allow me to ease your mind, for the evening, at least.”
Hubert looks to his hands once they are dry again, wiggling the fingers around and staring at the twisting of purplish-black that discolors his skin. He knows that Ferdinand does not wish for him to use such harsh words towards the state of his hands, but he simply grew accustomed to the thought that he was a tarnished man, both internally and externally from all that he's done and seen in his lifetime.
“As you wish.” He whispers, offering his hands once again.
Ferdinand smiles at him, grabbing the circular container of lotion. He uncaps the top, then dips his fingers to collect a small portion of the scented lotion onto his fingertips. Then, he takes Hubert’s left hand and begins to massage it. He rubs the lotion into the skin, being firm but not too rough. He wished to ease the aching, lathering the lotion to soften the skin and bring a sense of peace.
He was by no means an expert, but he knew enough about his partner to understand how to relax him after a bloody mission. He rubs over the palm of his hand with his fingers, then turns it around to caress the back of his hands with his thumb. He reaches to grab a little more lotion, using it to rub down to his wrist. He tends to the muscles there, kneading upon them with his cautious yet loving touch.
“I...I missed you, while you were away.” Ferdinand finally admits, switching to the other hand once he reapplies a decent glob of lotion into his hands. He starts all over, running the lotion over each finger down to his knuckles. The scent is sweet, but not overpowering. He had gotten the recommendation from Dorothea, as she used it to keep her own skin soft and smooth. Ferdinand already had such calloused skin, especially in his hands from handling various weapons religiously for years, but he enjoyed the lotion for tending to Hubert’s scarred hands.
“I missed you, too.” Hubert says, looking him in the eyes. He seems to have gained some of the vibrancy back in his eyes, the clouds shifting from his gaze. “...Ferdinand, thank you. For going through all this trouble. It is not necessary, but I appreciate it.”
As Ferdinand finishes rubbing the lotion over his hands, he takes them one at a time and lifts each up. His lips press into the palms, scattering kisses across the skin. He also peppers his lips over each finger, ending with a kiss upon each knuckle until finally smooching across the back of his hand in a courtly fashion. As he switched between hands, not leaving one inch of the skin unkissed, Hubert feels his cheeks burn with a faint rush of red. The sight of someone as handsome as Ferdinand worshipping his filthy hands had a way of gripping his heart and making it thump wildly within his chest.
“It is necessary.” Ferdinand argues, squeezing both hands within his own. “Absolutely necessary for the one I love.” He leans forward, filling the space between them as he brings their mouths together for a slow, but passionate kiss.
Closing his eyes, Hubert molds into his embrace. His head tilts back, letting out a gentle breath as their lips break for a moment before falling back together. He doesn’t have a lot of energy for much more than this, so he appreciates how Ferdinand takes the lead. Feeling a sense of comfort as Ferdinand pressed into his body, growing secure as he led his scarred hands to wrap around his waist. He grips onto his back, clinging onto him tight.
Ferdinand slides his arms around his neck, running his fingers through the back of his hair as he deepens the kiss. He lets his tongue brush over his bottom lip, relieved when he parts his lips and allows him to tenderly taste his lips. To eat up all the quiet sorrows that lie upon his tongue, eager to leave nothing but the delicious craving he holds for him. Nothing could satisfy him like Hubert did.
“I love you, too…” Hubert whispers, breaking away from his now wet lips, feeling rather tired and ready to fall asleep in these strong arms that have held him countless nights before.
“I know.” Ferdinand says, just a tad smug as he pulls him down to lay upon the bed, letting the older man rest upon his chest. He reaches for one of his hands, holding it tight as Hubert nuzzles into his chest. His other hand lies within his black hair, brushing through it in all its messy glory.
“You should likely tend to that proposal upon your desk, as well as the candle still lit.” Hubert mutters, closing his eyes and feeling the urge to sleep engulfing him completely. Especially once Ferdinand leans to blow out the candle on the nightstand, then picks up humming the same song from before. A personal lullaby for a man in desperate need of peaceful rest.
With one last kiss to his forehead, Ferdinand wraps them under the heavy blankets and continues to hum until he feels Hubert’s breathing slow.
“Goodnight.”