Work Text:
Annette liked living in Fhirdiad. She liked the different shops and cafes that she could explore on weekends. She liked being close to Mercie and having tea with her once a week, twice if they were lucky. She liked the independence of making her own living as a teacher, and how easy it was to go out into the city on her own with no mother to lecture her or school rules she’d had to follow as a student.
She did not like the rain, though. She did not like the rain at all.
It came down in torrents that month, a perfectly clear sky in the morning gathering clouds by lunch and absolutely pouring by afternoon. Annette took refuge in cafes and book stores for hours longer than she intended and vowed to bring an umbrella next time. But the sunny mornings would fool her, every time, and the next time she would be just as unprepared for the downpour as the last.
This time, she was particularly unlucky, as she had no shops to duck into, being in a rather residential area of Fhirdiad. She didn’t relish the idea of going back to the house she’d been visiting – it had been a dull lunch full of people she didn’t particularly like, and at any rate she was already soaked; the rain sweeping upon her a mere 10 minutes after she left. The only thing to do was trudge – or squish, if her shoes were any indication – back to the School of Sorcery, and hope her students didn’t spot her looking like a half-drowned cat before she could find a bath and a fireplace to soothe her cold fingers and sore ego.
“You’re walking slow, even for you,” a voice said directly by her ear.
Annette flailed for a second, but not nearly as much as she used to. She was used to Felix popping up behind her these days. Even after all these years he didn’t seem to know how to greet people.
“Well of course I am, Felix, I’m water-logged,” she snapped, fully ready to skip niceties if he was. “Fhirdiad’s spring rainstorms are something else.”
“Truly miserable. Try an umbrella?” Felix suggested. Annette brightened at this. Felix, for all his villainy, had always been one for unexpected kindness, from helping her with her chores at the academy to rescuing her from particularly terrible dance partners at Fhirdiad dinner parties. It was just like Felix to swoop in out of nowhere to begrudgingly offer her his umbrella at her lowest, and soggiest, moment.
She smiled up at him shyly. His hands were empty.
“Oh,” Annette said, her smile slipping away. Just to check, she added, “Do you have one?”
“It was sunny this morning,” Felix said with a shrug. “I just mean you should get one.”
“Some fairy tale hero you turned out to be,” Annette muttered, pulling her shawl around her a little tighter and wishing it had a hood.
“You flatter me,” Felix said with equal sarcasm. “Where are you off to?”
“Back to campus,” Annette said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the school of sorcery. “I’ve just been at one of Ferdinand’s lunches. I guess I could head back and hide out there until the rain stops . . .”
“Goddess, why would you do that,” Felix said, wrinkling his nose. “Here, you can just crash at my place. I’ll lend you a sweater.”
Annette blushed wildly, but Felix was tugging her by the elbow to turn down a side street, and didn’t seem to notice. She’d never been to his townhouse, which he had taken, as far as she could tell, to more easily avoid Dimitri and other dignitaries when he had to stay in Fhirdiad for longer than a couple of days. The sheer scandal of her inviting herself over to a single man’s house already seemed to border on impropriety, even before he started offering her his clothes.
“ – so I’ll probably just punch him and that’ll take care of that,” Felix was saying. He stopped in front of a more modest townhouse than Annette was expecting, given the relative grandeur of Ferdinand’s flat a few blocks away. She supposed he did have a castle off in Fraldarius somewhere, so maybe two fancy houses was overkill.
Felix unlocked the door and pushed it open. With a gesture that Annette could never read as sarcastic or not, he motioned for her to go in, but she hesitated at the door frame.
Felix frowned. “What? Decided you enjoy the rain?”
“It’s not . . . well, it’s not very proper, to invite myself over, Felix!” Annette protested, casting a subtle, envious glance at the warm, dry chairs in his warm, dry living room.
Felix’s frown became more confused. “I don’t really care about what’s proper, Annette, you know that,” he pointed out.
“No, I mean – other people won’t think it’s proper,” Annette said, blushing and looking down at her shoes, which she was pretty sure were ruined.
“Ah,” Felix said. There was a long pause as the sound of raindrops pattered around them. Then he added, finally, “Well, if anyone says anything, I’ll punch them, too. Come on.”
Annette might’ve argued if the rain hadn’t been so bad, but really, the spring storms in Fhirdiad were absolutely horrid.