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There are a lot of ways that Sylvain takes care of Felix, little things that he would find annoying from someone else, but Sylvain does taking care of Felix in such a way that he can’t complain. It would be like complaining when Sylvain says “I love you,” and obviously Felix isn’t going to do that.
Sylvain is always making sure Felix eats what Sylvain calls ‘actual food’, meals cooked just to taste good instead of Very Healthy But Ultimately Boring plain chicken breasts and steamed vegetables, or what Sylvain had dubbed a ‘struggle meal’—flavored tuna eaten straight from the foil pack with a fork over the sink to save time and dishes. There’s nothing wrong with how Felix eats, he gets the nutrients he needs, but it’s… nice, to come home and find the whole apartment smelling delicious, Sylvain in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up and music playing. It’s nice to sit down across from Sylvain with a plate of something with Actual Flavor, to see Sylvain watching his reaction and know that he’ll say he just got bored and threw something together but really Sylvain planned the whole meal around spoiling Felix.
Sylvain looks after Felix’s comfort, from the first moment they’d started getting to know each other. When they’d finally started dating, Sylvain’s apartment sprouted several new blankets, pajamas in Felix’s size took up residence in the dresser, and if Felix so much as shivered an old college sweatshirt was proffered or a still-warm jacket manifested to drape over his shoulders. These days Sylvain has calmed down a bit, considering they live together so it’s unlikely Felix will bolt at the first mild discomfort, but he’s still careful when they sit together and sleep together to always arrange things for Felix’s comfort.
Sylvain makes sure Felix doesn’t overwork himself, which only annoys Felix in that all of their friends react with overblown shock that anyone could convince Felix to take a break. But Sylvain makes it easy. He doesn’t frame their lives like Felix is some kind of workaholic, or like Felix Does Too Much; Sylvain is just as invested in his own work, after all, and spends plenty of late nights at the theater or at his drafting table. Instead, Sylvain turns taking a break into spending time together—late mornings curled sleep-soft together instead of Felix going for a punishing run at the crack of dawn; enticing Felix into long, relaxing showers with the promise of washing his hair among other things; weekends spent at museums and afternoon movies, dinner at Dedue and Ashe’s, long rides on Felix’s bike, or just making out on the couch.
Sylvain seems to always, in one way or another, be taking care of Felix.
Felix wants to take care of Sylvain.
It’s harder than it sounds, because Sylvain is so quick to brush things off, to make everything about Felix, as though he doesn’t also deserve pampering. Not that Felix would ever call it ‘pampering’, but. Sylvain has been busier than usual lately, working on the theater’s winter production of White Christmas; they had watched the movie together back in September when Sylvain was first planning sets, and Felix knows Sylvain really outdid himself. He’s seen mockups of the elaborate sets Sylvain had planned for the many, many musical numbers in the play, and Sylvain has had a lot of long days and late nights.
He isn’t coming home with sawdust or paint on his clothes anymore, but he still gets home late from watching rehearsals, making sure set changes go smoothly and working on minor repairs and last minute changes. Tonight he got home so tired he yawned through his Indian takeout while he told Felix that Mercedes had ordered him to stay home from work the next day.
Felix starts planning before he even bullies Sylvain into going to bed.
+
Felix starts by letting Sylvain sleep in until noon, because he hasn't had a proper rest in weeks, and goes about making breakfast. He isn't the world's best cook, but he can handle cinnamon sugar toast with a side of strawberry instant oatmeal and a cup of Sylvain's favorite tea.
He carries the tea in to wake Sylvain up, because some people might find breakfast in bed romantic but Sylvain would just whine about crumbs in their sheets. He sets the tea on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, leans over Sylvain to brush hair back from his forehead and just looks at him for a moment—even asleep, Sylvain looks tired, uncharacteristic dark circles under his eyes. For a second, Felix thinks about scrapping his plan and climbing back in bed to curl around Sylvain, letting him sleep all day… but no, his plan is a better way to take care of Sylvain.
Felix reaches down and gives Sylvain’s shoulder a gentle shake, which gets him a mumble and a groan as Sylvain turns his face further into his pillow. He leans down, kisses Sylvain on the cheek; it’s rough and stubbled, and Felix doesn’t entirely hate it. “Wake up, there’s breakfast.”
Sylvain perks up a bit, rolls and wraps an arm around Felix’s waist as he pulls him into another kiss. “Breakfast in bed, huh?” Sylvain teases, attempting to pull Felix further onto the bed, and Felix huffs a laugh even as he turns his face so Sylvain’s next kiss presses to his cheek instead of his mouth. Normally he would love to fool around with Sylvain—when does he not love to?—but he actually went to some effort this morning.
“Actual breakfast,” he says, “which is getting cold.” Sylvain looks apprehensive and then tries to hide it, because, again, Felix is not exactly the world’s best cook. There’s a reason Sylvain does most of their cooking. Felix just rolls his eyes, kisses Sylvain again, and then pushes up from the bed. “Tea,” he says, pointing at the cup, “and the rest is in here. Eat or don’t, but get up.” Felix walks out of the bedroom, knowing Sylvain will be too curious not to follow.
Felix, of course, isn’t wrong. By the time he’s mixing the rest of the chopped strawberries into a bowl of plain Greek yogurt for his own breakfast, Sylvain joins him with another yawn and the cup of tea Felix had left for him. He looks surprised again when he sees what Felix has made, but pleased, and Felix smirks into his coffee at a job well done. Or at least, well started.
“Did you have anything planned today?” he asks while Sylvain loads the dishwasher after breakfast (Sylvain has a particular system and it’s easiest to just Let Him Do It), and Sylvain hums.
“No, just spending the day with you. Unless you have plans?” Sylvain glances up from the dishwasher, curious, and Felix shakes his head.
“I thought we might go to the Christmas Market.” Sylvain’s eyebrows shoot up, and Felix frowns. “What?”
“I thought the weather report said it was supposed to snow all weekend; you sure you want to go to an open air market?” Sylvain actually looks worried, and Felix loves him even as he rolls his eyes, because Sylvain likes snow and the cold, so any objection is purely for Felix’s benefit.
“Forecast is light snow this evening, which won’t kill me. Besides, this is probably the last free time you’ll have before the show, and I know you wanted to go.” This may be making the outing too much about Sylvain, judging from his face; Felix improvises. “And I might need to do some Christmas shopping.” Sylvain’s expression changes, apprehension melting into a grin.
“We don’t have to get snowed on in a crowd for last minute shopping, Babe.”
“Well I want to get snowed on in a crowd; you coming with me or what?” Sylvain looks bemused, but he nods, and Felix nods back. “Good. I’m going to shower, come wash my hair.” Felix knows Sylvain is following him without even having to look.
+
Taking Sylvain's car instead of Felix's bike is the practical option, with road conditions and probable packages to haul home. It's practical, but really Felix wants to ride in the heated car with his hand on Sylvain's thigh while Sylvain hums along to the Mariah Carey Christmas album.
Not Felix’s first choice of music, of course, because he isn't a huge fan of Christmas music, but it makes Sylvain happy. Sylvain Happy is the point, and worth it when Sylvain reaches down to catch Felix's hand from his thigh, lifting it to his mouth to kiss the back before lacing their fingers together.
They park in a garage a few blocks from the market, and instantly Felix is Cold, which is expected but still Very Annoying. The main cause is his clothing, which he had picked less for warmth and more based on Sylvain's preferences—a dark pair of jeans Felix knows Sylvain loves his ass in, a pair of boots Sylvain had called sexy on multiple occasions, one of Sylvain's maroon sweaters, and a shirt that wasn't a turtleneck for once. He’d put his hair up in a high ponytail and hadn’t stuffed it into one of the cozy knit caps Mercedes made, because Sylvain likes his hair for some reason. Felix had drawn the line at jewelry, though—if he was going to leave his ears to the elements he wasn’t going to stick freezing metal in them, too.
He’d thrown one of Sylvain’s warmer jackets on over everything, and the look Sylvain gave him almost kept them at home. Almost. So, Felix isn’t nearly as warm as he could be, which is annoying, but also fine because:
“Jeez, Fe, you already look miserable. C’mere,” Sylvain says with a chuckle, an arm extended, and Felix easily tucks himself against Sylvain’s side. At first, this kind of public display embarrassed the hell out of Felix, but by now he’s just used to Sylvain’s need to touch him, some kind of public signal that they’re together and—most important of all—that Felix isn’t ashamed to be seen with him. Which, honestly, makes Felix feel a lot of feelings, several of them negative and aimed at Sylvain’s ‘family’, but mostly a fierce possession-slash-protective instinct.
So. He tucks into Sylvain’s side, slides his hand into the back pocket of Sylvain’s jeans with a grumble about the cold in his fingers (Sylvain is Warm, ergo so is the ass pocket of his jeans), and Sylvain laughs even as he wraps his arm around Felix’s shoulders. “You should’ve worn a scarf, Sweetheart; dunno why I didn’t grab one for you.”
“You can buy me one at the market, then,” he says as they set off, and Sylvain just makes a little noise of assent.
“So, who are we shopping for?” Sylvain asks as they walk, and Felix internally swears—he hadn’t thought about that. He burrows a bit into Sylvain’s side while he thinks, and arrives at ‘fuck it’.
“I don’t have anyone specific in mind, just thought we’d see what’s there.” He looks up, and Sylvain is raising his eyebrows. Felix rolls his eyes. “You wanted to go, that’s enough reason. But if you want, you can help me find something for my father.”
Sylvain smiles, and it’s a teasing, slanting thing. “Aw, but Babe—”
“I am not putting my name on that card.” Sylvain had gleefully shown Felix the ‘Number One Dad’ mug he had bought Rodrigue and offered to let Felix join in the credit, but Felix refuses to. On one hand, his father will love the mug, and on the other, it’s a truer sentiment coming from Sylvain than it ever would be coming from Felix. “You can help find something that’s not… that.” His face twists in disdain, and Sylvain jostles him with an affectionate laugh.
“Alright.”
The market is set up in the concrete-tiled courtyard of one of the city’s larger shopping plazas, rows of decorated booths in the center with more around the circumference of the square. Every tree in the plaza is wrapped in strings of lights, and a massive Christmas tree looms over the market. Sylvain had spent enough time ‘washing Felix’s hair’ that they’d arrived on the late side of afternoon, but it’s not nearly dark enough to really appreciate the lights yet. Looking around at the crowds, Felix expects they’ll still be at the market by sundown.
The market is busier than Felix expected, considering the cold, but that’s fine. Sylvain likes crowds, and if there are lines this outing should last. Felix didn’t plan much for the rest of the day besides Netflix and an eventual considerable amount of Chill, and that really doesn’t fill an entire evening. Well. Not if the goal is for Sylvain to rest today.
So. Sunset at least is the goal.
“Where first?” Felix asks as they make their way into the market, and Sylvain scans the booths before steering them towards one advertising hot drinks.
“You really can’t come to this market and not get the chocolate boot.”
“The what.”
Sylvain grins. “Hot chocolate in a boot shaped mug.” Felix makes a face before he can stop himself, and Sylvain’s grin stretches further. “They’ve got cider, too, Fe; little something to warm us up while we browse.” They step into a line, Felix keeping track while Sylvain looks around at other booths and presumably plots their post-drink course.
When they acquire their cider and boot-shaped-mug full of hot chocolate, they move to a spot where they’re not in the way to taste their drinks. Felix is satisfied with the cider, warm and perfectly spiced, and he glances at Sylvain to see if the hot chocolate is adequate.
Sylvain sighs deeply, and for a second Felix thinks he’s disappointed with the drink, but then he says, “You’re really missing out, Babe. This might be the best hot chocolate since Bear’s.” Felix snorts and rolls his eyes, holding his hand out for the mug. Sylvain only looks at his hand for a moment.
“Well? I thought I was missing out.” Sylvain blinks, then carefully hands over the mug, almost as if he expects Felix’s dislike of sweets to win out and result in ceramic on pavement. Felix hands Sylvain his own mug, then sips the hot chocolate. His face twists as his tongue registers the sweetness, but it’s not unbearable or cloying, just… chocolate. Felix rates chocolate on a sliding scale of ‘dark 85% cocoa’ to ‘someone waved a cocoa bean over a block of sugar’, and he puts this at a solid 7 of tolerable. He nods and hands Sylvain back the mug. “It’s ok.”
Sylvain looks like Felix just raved about how delicious the cocoa was. “They sell the powder mix, you know.” He glances back towards the booth and the section of gifts they sell, and Felix is struck with inspiration.
“I guess Rodrigue will need something to put in that mug you got him.”
+
The market stalls range from food vendors to artisan crafts to goods from small local businesses, and by the time sunset hits and the lights are in full glory, Sylvain and Felix are laden with gifts. There’s the hot chocolate (enough for Rodrigue, Annette, and Sylvain) and the scarf Sylvain had absolutely bought Felix, but there are also various things for other friends.
Sylvain had found a purple teddy bear that he immediately got for Bernadetta, and Felix had gotten a ceramic planter painted with cats for Ashe and Dedue. They had discovered little painted wooden ornaments shaped like cats and picked out a few that looked like Maupin’s kittens for the friends who had taken them in. At the same booth, Sylvain had found a carving of a horse’s head covered in swirls and patterns in bright paint. Felix had dubbed it hideous, and Sylvain had egged him into purchasing it for Ferdinand; as an apology to Dorothea for the horror that would grace her home, Sylvain had bought her a bracelet and matching earrings.
Felix is looking at some pewter ornaments Dimitri would like (he can’t accidentally crush them like glass) when Sylvain says his name, and turning he’s met with Sylvain wearing a knit hat with a ridiculous embroidered mistletoe patch on it. Sylvain is just standing there, grinning goofily, looking unbearably handsome backdropped by the numerous lights as he wiggles an eyebrow. Felix huffs, but he finds himself stepping forward to catch Sylvain’s coat for leverage as he leans up to kiss him—quick and ridiculously chaste, because they are in the middle of a crowd and Felix’s ability for PDA only goes so far, but still a kiss.
Sylvain doesn’t look pleased when Felix steps back so much as slightly confused, and for a second there’s the smallest prickle of unease up the back of Felix’s neck. Then his eyes narrow and he huffs again, fingers curling a little tighter on Sylvain’s coat. “If you were expecting tongue, you better buy that hat and try again at home,” he says, and Sylvain blinks and laughs. It doesn’t sound completely right, but Sylvain is pulling off the hat and looking at the price, and Felix lets it slide.
“You think I should get it?” Sylvain says, thumb running over the little hand-sewn tag inside the hat, and Felix tilts his head.
“Like everything, it looks good on you,” he says, “but you can’t wear it out of the apartment or I might get in some fistfights.” Sylvain snorts, and he sounds like himself again, like nothing is wrong. Felix feels himself relax, and they finish their purchases at the booth and move on. They’ve been around most of the booths, covered most of their list of acquaintances for gifts, and Felix is beginning to get hungry. They’d passed a stand doing enormous soft pretzels earlier, and for a second Felix thinks about backtracking, but then he sees the bratwurst stand.
He nudges Sylvain and points at the stand with a small, expectant smile, and when Sylvain looks up Felix waits for the joke. It’s a bratwurst stand, Felix can’t imagine Sylvain not making some kind of dick joke just to watch Felix get flustered, but Sylvain just nods and tightens his arm around Felix’s shoulder. “Looks good to me!”
Felix lets Sylvain lead them to the brat stand, too caught in his thoughts to pay attention to where he’s walking. The feeling of wrong hits him again as he looks back over the last couple of hours; Sylvain had seemed fine, but now that Felix thinks about it, he’d gotten quieter as time went on. Felix glances up at him when they stop to join the line for brats, and Sylvain doesn’t look like he’s having a totally relaxing and enjoyable date, just… tired. Felix looks down at his feet with a little cringe—they’ve been out in the cold all day walking around, barraged by noise and all of the shopping, when Sylvain probably just wanted to spend his only day off finally getting some damn sleep.
Ugh, this whole thing was a stupid idea.
Felix barely tastes his brat as he eats it, remembering all of Sylvain’s caring little protests about how it would be cold and crowded, couched like they were for Felix’s benefit but probably objections made in a way that wouldn’t hurt Felix’s feelings. And Felix had just stubbornly pushed on, convinced that he knew what Sylvain needed better than Sylvain did.
“Hey, Sylvain?” he says quietly, eyes on his hands as he cleans them with a napkin, and Sylvain goes still beside him. “Do you want to go home?” Felix looks up at him just in time to catch relief on Sylvain’s face, and fuck, but he feels like an ass now. “Sorry. It’s your day off, you probably just wanted to rest.”
“What? No—this was great, Fe; I love spending time with you.” Sylvain looks as sincere as a man can look while holding a half-eaten bratwurst, and Felix believes him, but he doesn’t feel like this has been any less of a failure re: a relaxing day for Sylvain. He will just have to put his all into making the rest of the evening at home as relaxing as possible.
“Ok. Good.” Felix nods. “Do you want to go home? I don’t mind either way, and it’s your day.” Sylvain looks Felix over for a second, assessing something Felix can’t guess, and then shrugs.
“Yeah, sure. Get you home and warm," he says with a little lopsided grin. Before Felix can do more than narrow his eyes, Sylvain adds, "The cats are probably about to go Lord of the Flies, anyways."
"The cats can handle a few hours without us," Felix says, but he lifts his gifts anyways and looks off towards the exit. Even as he turns, the forecasted snow begins to fall in fluffy flakes. Traffic will be annoying enough without adding the snow. “I’ll drive?”
He looks back at Sylvain, who is nodding and stuffing the last of his brat in his mouth. Sylvain isn’t even suggestive about it, doesn’t make any silly comment when he finishes, and Felix feels disappointment settle into his stomach. He should’ve just curled around Sylvain when he joked about breakfast in bed and left it at that.
The walk back to the garage is quieter than their walk to the market had been, even the air a little bit heavier in the soft snowfall. The drive back is the same, even with Felix muttering about assholes who act like it’s their first time driving in snow, even with Mariah Carey singing Joy To The World out of the car speakers. Felix feels tired himself by the time he unlocks their apartment and holds the door open, guarding against feline escapes as Sylvain shuffles in with most of their purchases.
While Sylvain is setting their bags on the table as the cats noisily mob him, Felix takes off his boots and coat—he’s neat about it, for once, putting his boots by the door and Sylvain’s jacket in the closet, even hangs up his scarf. He screwed up enough with the market, Felix doesn’t need Sylvain deciding he has to clean, too.
Felix steps out of the front hall, watches Sylvain for a second with the cats. They’re still acting like they’ve never eaten a meal in their lives, Christine practically yowling as she circles Sylvain’s feet, and Garfield is standing on the table with his face in Sylvain’s hands. Maupin is pacing between Sylvain and the kitchen, and when she sees Felix she adds him to her path and paces a triangle.
Normally, Sylvain would make a joke about their little opera company, or about this wonderful audition for a Sarah McLachlan abused animals commercial, but he just stands there scratching around Garfield’s ears. That weight of disappointment in Felix’s stomach begins feeling wrong again. He steps further into the room, slides fingers up the back of Sylvain’s neck and into his hair, kisses him on the line of his jaw just because Felix feels like it. “I’ll feed the cats. Why don’t you pick something to watch? Whatever you want.” A dangerous offer, because Sylvain has varied and sometimes odd taste in movies and shows, but. Sylvain Day!
Sylvain only hums an acknowledgement, and Felix turns and moves into the kitchen with the cats following. He’s slow getting out their bowls and their food, murmuring reassurance that they won’t starve on autopilot. He’s thinking about how to salvage the day—sure, his plan was a failure, and sure, he feels bad about it, but Felix isn’t a quitter. Especially not when it comes to Sylvain. He cleans up the cat bowls and then nods to himself with renewed resolve before stepping back into the living room.
“Did you want—Sylvain?”
Sylvain is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled in front of his mouth; he’s still wearing his coat and boots. He looks up when Felix freezes in the kitchen doorway, and he looks miserable. Felix has no earthly idea how he screwed up this bad.
“Hey, Felix?” he asks, and Felix is still mentally scrambling, can’t answer with more than a little noise. “Are you going to break up with me?”
“What?” What the fuck?
Felix waits for some kind of clarification, but Sylvain just keeps looking at him like—fuck, like he’s waiting to get dumped.
“Sylvain, of course I’m not going to break up with—where did you even get that idea?” Was the date that bad? Sylvain’s hands move away from his mouth, open up like he’s trying to offer an explanation he doesn’t have as his mouth twists. Felix waits.
“It’s… just, I couldn’t figure out why, y’know?” Sylvain doesn’t need to wait for Felix to ask why what, Felix can feel the question on his whole face, and Sylvain shrugs. “It’s not our anniversary, that was last month and you remembered it, and I don’t have a winter birthday so it’s not that. I thought maybe I was forgetting some special occasion, but today is just...a day. I couldn’t figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Felix’s voice is smaller than he’d like, but he’s frightened; he’d just thought Sylvain was tired, and Sylvain had been walking around waiting for Felix to end things. Like it was just that simple, like Felix even could.
“Why you were doing so much for me. I mean, I’m not stupid, I know you did all this today for me, I just don’t know why. I can’t think of a good reason, so, the worst reason—”
“A good reason—Jesus, Sylvain!” Felix throws his arms up, he can’t fucking believe—! “How about I love you!”
"I know, Felix,” Sylvain says, and his calm seriousness stops Felix’s ballooning, indignant anger in its tracks. “But I've hardly been around for months with work, I mean this was the most time we’ve spent together uninterrupted since I started building, and I just, I don’t know? You’ve been so… understanding.” Sylvain’s expression closes off, and Felix crosses his arms. He thinks about pinching himself, like he’ll realize this is a shitty dream. He doesn’t. “I know you miss me, and you haven’t complained at all, but it feels like. It’s like I’m wasting your time, you know? You deserve better.”
Sylvain looks like he’s waiting for Felix to gasp or something, to be hit with this sudden realization that Sylvain Is Right, and Felix Deserves Better. Instead he uncrosses his arms, scrubs his hands over his face. “Sylvain… it’s not like I’m sitting here at home the whole time you’re gone, doing nothing. I work, too, and I don’t blame you for us being busy.” He crosses his arms again, looser, less defensive. “It’s not even the first time we’ve been this busy—when I was gone for that tournament coaching Fleche, you didn’t break up with me.”
Sylvain frowns. “Yeah, but that was only a week and a half, and I could complain with Bear about us missing you and Caspar.” Felix rolls his eyes.
“It was a week and a half where we didn’t see each other at all; even with work, we still see each other every day, even if it’s just a few minutes. Also,” he lifts a hand from his crossed arms, “you realize I have Annette to complain with about how busy you and Mercedes are, right?” But this isn’t the point, and he shakes his head. “Either way, you said yourself I haven’t complained. I do miss you, but it’s not like your job is always like this, or like this is even new.”
“Exactly, it’s not new; you shouldn’t have to miss me when we live together. I didn’t even think about how shitty things must have been until today. You deserve someone who’s around.”
“I’m not—” Felix cuts himself off with a frustrated noise. Sylvain is fully Having A Moment. He comes off so solid that sometimes Felix forgets how unsure Sylvain can get about his own worth and how good he is at hiding it. “God. I mean, what, you really thought I was going to dump you? That I planned a day doing things you like just to break up with you.” Sylvain’s bitten lip silence is answer enough to that, and Felix groans and stomps over to him. He pushes Sylvain by the shoulders until he slides back on the couch, starts to climb over his lap.
“What are you doing?” Sylvain asks as Felix straddles his legs and pulls Sylvain’s head against his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Sylvain’s arms slide around his waist automatically.
“Smothering you,” he answers, even as he runs his fingers through Sylvain's hair. Maybe if Sylvain can’t see or be seen, he can answer a damn question. “You keep talking about deserve this and that; you said you didn’t do anything to deserve today. So, what exactly do I do to deserve you being so fucking good to me?” He can feel the noise Sylvain makes against his chest.
“I think,” Felix continues, “that maybe you deserve better, too?” Sylvain tries to lean away to look at him, but Felix doesn’t let him. “I should be nicer to you.”
“Nice—Babe.” The protest is muffled, and Felix finally lets Sylvain lean back enough to look up at his face. “You don’t need to be nicer.” Sylvain looks almost offended on Felix’s behalf, and the absurdity of it—like it’s fine for Sylvain to talk himself down, but the moment Felix does? Felix rolls his eyes.
“You were so shocked by me planning a day around you that you decided I was dumping you.” Which really makes Felix feel like an asshole. How bad has he been treating Sylvain? How long has Sylvain been accepting Felix’s neglect like it’s all he deserves? Felix realizes he’s frowning at the same time Sylvain’s face crumples.
“No, that’s not—I didn’t mean it like you’re not nice to me, Sweetheart. I just. It was weird!” His head tips back on a groan. “You hate being cold. And hot chocolate! And then you kissed me in the middle of a crowd without even—it was just a lot, Felix. One or two things, sure, but all of it, I couldn’t figure out why you were going out of your way so much.”
Felix frames Sylvain’s face with his hands, tilts his head to make sure Sylvain makes eye contact as he answers very slowly, “Because. I. Love. You.” He gives Sylvain’s head the tiniest shake. “Yes, I hate being cold, but you’re warm enough, and a single sip of hot chocolate isn’t torture. And kissing in public is a little embarrassing but I enjoy kissing you.” To make his point, he kisses Sylvain, and he can feel the tension in Sylvain melt away as he relaxes back into the couch. “You’ve been so busy, you come home exhausted. I just wanted you to have a nice day.”
“I did have a nice day, right up until I started being stupid.”
“You’re not being stupid, just… a little ridiculous? I swear if I ever decide we should break up, I’ll be up front about it.” Sylvain actually laughs, presses his forehead to Felix’s shoulder as he pulls him closer.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I love you, you know?” Felix does know, and he presses a kiss into Sylvain’s hair. They sit there for a while, Felix rubbing his hands up and down Sylvain’s back while Sylvain just holds him and breathes. They could sit like that for a lot longer, but Maupin jumps up onto the couch and walks along the back, chirping annoyance at not being included in this perceived cuddling. Sylvain laughs again, softer, more at ease, and Felix leans back to look at him, cups his cheek.
“Did you want to watch something? Or we could just go to bed; like I said, you’ve been tired.” Sylvain turns his face to kiss Felix’s palm.
“I think I could stay up, make out to some Rankin Bass Christmas films.” Felix snorts.
“I did say you could pick whatever you want, didn’t I?” he sighs, then kisses Sylvain’s forehead before reaching down to free himself from Sylvain’s arms. “Set it up, I’ll grab snacks; we did enough walking already today, we’re not getting off this couch again until bedtime.” As if to cement this, the moment Felix is out of Sylvain’s lap, Maupin jumps down to take his place. “Good job.”
They spend the rest of the evening watching a fuzzy little Rudolph puppet, cuddling with the cats, and eventually making out during the Heat Miser’s song. When Sylvain falls asleep somewhere in the middle of Life And Adventures of Santa Claus, Felix lets him sleep through the whole thing before leading him off to bed, yawning and still half-asleep.
In bed, warm and finally curled around Sylvain, Felix reflects on the day; not as perfect as he’d planned, but ultimately a success? He supposes he’s probably just as difficult to take care of, Sylvain just has more practice at it. Felix will just have to put in practice, and he’s always been good at that.
Felix falls asleep planning, face against Sylvain’s back and an arm over his waist.