Archive of Our Own

“Seriously? You've got to be kidding me," Claude sighed and crossed his arms. "That’s the best we can come up with for our son?”

Dimitri shrugged. “You don’t like any of my names.”

“You want to name him Barnabus.”

“It’s better than DJ Bearbear.”

“Hey,” Claude said, pointing a finger at his project partner. “DJ Bearbear was the name of my favorite stuffed animal growing up, and I will not stand for you disrespecting him like that.”

“But this isn’t a toy!” Dimitri said. “He is our child…”

Dimitri waved his hand over their ethnically ambiguous baby doll-child, all plastic limbs and soft stuffed torso, staring blankly up at them from his carrier. 

“...and he deserves a decent name,” he finished, his tone one of finality.

Claude groaned in defeat. “Okay, fine. Kevin it is. Kevin. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” he repeated, as though he was trying the name on for size. “Maybe it’s not so bad after all.”

Claude put a circle around the name KEVIN on their long list of potential names. Gods, he thought to himself, it was the first day–no, the first hour of the project–and they’d already been butting heads. He didn’t know how he’d survive an entire week raising a baby with Dimitri.

He’d prayed harder than he had ever in his life (which wasn’t much, but still) to get a good partner for this dumb project. Someone kind and compassionate, like a good parent should be. But also juuuust malleable enough for Claude to gently bestow most of the work on them. Ignatz would have been perfect, or Mercedes, or maybe even Ferdinand.

But no. He’d gotten stuck with Dimitri. Who by all accounts wasn’t a bad guy–but that was exactly his problem. Dimitri was the most upstanding, diligent student in their grade. He was captain of the lacrosse team. President of the Honor Society. He’d won some award for having the most community service hours in their whole grade. In Hanneman's class last term, on the day a ten-page paper was due, he actually raised his hand and said, “Excuse me, Professor,  but you forgot to collect the homework.” Dimitri was not going to let Claude get away with doing exactly 0.5% of the work. 

But dammit, Claude was going to try his hardest anyway.

In his carrier, baby Kevin began to electronically fuss. 

“Soooo,” Claude began, “I’ve got gym next period. I can’t exactly take our little bundle of joy along. I won't be able to keep an eye on him. He might get hurt, you know?”

Dimitri frowned. “I suppose, but if I’m to take him tonight, it’s only fair if you take him for the rest of the school day–”

And then the bell goes off, cutting Dimitri’s sentence short.

Claude was literally saved by the bell. Maybe all the praying he did was finally paying off. He began to haphazardly shove his things into his backpack. “Oh, shoot, sorry, but I’ve gotta go–you know how far the gym is from here. I’ll see you later, co-parent!” 

Dimitri’s eyes widened in something that looked almost like…fear? “Claude, no, wait–” 

But it was too late. Claude was already waving at him as he ran out into the hall.

________________________

It wasn’t a lie that Claude had gym the following period. But he probably could have kept an eye on Kevin, because he was meeting up with Hilda, as usual, to hide behind the gym.

“Hey,” she greeted, not even looking up from the compact she was using to fix her lip gloss. “Did you get your partner for the baby thing yet?”

“I did.” Claude said, taking a seat beside her. “I got the worst partner possible.” 

“Ooooh!” Hilda snapped her compact shut. “Let me guess who it is. Ummm,” She tapped her finger against her cheek. “Edelgard?”

“Pfft! Thank the gods, no. She might actually be worse than the person I did end up with. Can you imagine? She’d like, read the baby ‘The Art of War’ at bedtime.”

Hilda looked at him blankly. “What’s that?”

Claude shook his head and popped open a can of soda. “Doesn’t matter. My partner is Dimitri.”

She gasped. “No! You got Dimitri?! You’re so lucky.”

Claude almost spat out his drink. “Lucky? Are you serious?”

“Yes!” Hilda exclaimed as she grasped onto Claude’s arm. “He is sohot. Is he single? Can you find out? Did you get his number!?”

“Hey, chill out!” Claude exclaimed. “That’s the father of my child, homewrecker. And you’re gonna spill my drink. Who’d you get, anyway?”

Hilda groaned and pulled away. “I got fucking Felix.”

“Are you serious?” Claude guffawed. “I heard he keeps swords in his locker.”

Hilda laughed and punched his shoulder. It hurt more than Claude cared to admit. “Shut up. You know that’s just a rumor Sylvain made up. Now gimme your English homework before I set my baby daddy and his swords on you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a second to find it. You got the stuff?”

“Duh,” Hilda said, digging through her purse. She procured a bag of Almyran chips, sent in her bi-weekly care package from Holst, and tossed them at Claude’s head. 

He caught them just before they hit his temple. Carefully, he examined the bag. “Aw,” he frowned, “these aren’t the spicy ones.”

“You get what you get,” Hilda said. She extended her hand, palm up, and flexed her fingers. “Homework. Now. Pretty please.”

Claude rolled his eyes and shoved the chips into one of the many pockets of his hoodie–the one with the seemingly endless zippered compartments for snacks, mild poisons, test answers, and pens and pencils. 

He dug through his backpack for the English worksheets. Huh. He could have sworn he’d sandwiched them somewhere between his copy of Sword of Kyphon and his algebra notebook. He flipped his backpack upside down, shook it, and found nothing else but gum wrappers and crumbs from an old granola bar.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over him.

“Are you looking for this?” a stern voice asked.

Claude slowly tilted his head up, dreading what he already knew was about to happen. It was Dimitri, royally pissed, said English homework in hand. And Kevin, strapped to Dimitri’s chest.

“Ohhh, hiiii, Dimitri!” Hilda squeaked, twirling her hair around her finger. “Your baby is soooo cute.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said. 

“He gets it from me,” Claude added.

Dimitri deigned to ignore that comment.

“Claude,” he began, as Claude ran through about a hundred different escape plans in his head. Most of them ended with Dimitri tackling him, which wouldn’t be good for the baby strapped to his chest. Or for Claude’s bones. He’d seen the guy break lacrosse sticks with far less effort. “We agreed upon a childcare schedule and it is now your turn to watch over Kevin. I will come for him at the end of the school day.”

“Listen,” Claude said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I’m just, like, really busy right now. And–wait, how’d you find me, anyway? We’ve never told anyone about this spot.”

Dimitri shrugged. “I asked Annette who asked Lysithea who asked Lorenz who texted me that you skip gym and hang out here with Hilda.”

Fucking Lorenz. 

“If you want your English homework back, I suggest you take our child for your allotted time.” 

“Um,” Hilda whispered, “I really need that. I didn’t do any of the reading, and the discussion is today…”

Claude glared at her. 

“Ugh, fine. I’ll throw in the candy Holst sent me.”

He sighed, resigned.

“Fine. Come to baba, Kevin.” 

________________________

By the end of the day, Claude wanted to punt Kevin into the nearest ditch. He’d cried and fussed so much, and so loudly. Manuela lost it during theatre when Kevin started up in the middle of Claude’s soliloquy. He was starting to think Byleth gave him a broken baby just to fuck with him (and yeah, maybe he deserved it for convincing Byleth he couldn’t speak English the entire first week of school, but it was still fucked up). 

He had experience with babies, of course. Nieces and nephews and third cousins had paraded through the Riegan family home for as long as he could remember. But none of them were this fucking needy. Sure, most of Kevin’s cries could be assuaged with a simple cuddle or a touch of a baby bottle to his lips. But when he was upset, and when Claude wasn't immediately at the ready, Kevin made sure everyone in a three mile radius knew.

So when Claude saw Dimitri standing out front of the school, waiting for Sylvain or Ingrid or whoever the fuck, a wave of relief crashed over him. 

“How was–” Dimitri started, but Claude shoved the carrier with Kevin inside into his chest.

“Take him,” Claude interrupted.

“Wait,” Dimitri started again. “I have to be honest with you, I..I don’t–I’m a little worried…”

“You’ll be fine,” Claude said with a wave, already hopping onto his bike. “Any questions, just text me.”

“Wait!” Dimitri called after him. 

But just like that, again, Claude was gone.

________________________

Claude blinked hard, willing himself to wake up. His phone had gone off so many times it had roused him from sleep. He groaned and texted Dimitri back. 

________________________

Claude rapped his knuckles exactly twice on Dimitri’s door before it swung open.

“Thank the goddess it’s you,” Dimitri said. “I’m sorry for all the texts and calls, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Claude peered over Dimitri’s shoulder and into his room, which was conspicuously empty. The walls were blank, the desk held only a laptop and wireless mouse. The only clue somebody lived in that room was the bookshelf, which was fit to burst with books and group pictures of the blue lions.

But there was no sight nor sound of Kevin.

“Uh,” Claude asked, “Where is our baby?”

Dimitri ducked his head, sheepish. “I will show you.”

Claude followed Dimitri into the room, toying with the notion that perhaps Dimitri finally lost it and tore their child limb from limb. He wouldn’t blame Dimitri, but it would certainly be hard explaining that to Teach.

Dimitri slid the door of his closet open, and in the silence that followed, Claude could hear the faint cries of their baby. There was an abnormally large pile of sweaters and blankets on the floor.

“Dimitri,” he said slowly, “did you try to suffocate our son?”

Dimitri raked a hand over his face. “I was just trying to muffle the sound! I didn’t know what else to do! He wouldn’t stop crying even when I fed him.”

Claude sighed, kneeling beside the pile. “Help me out here, will you?”

Together, they peeled layer by layer off of their screaming child. The sound got louder with each blanket, each coat that came off. Finally, Kevin was freed, his wailing at full volume.

“How long has he been doing this?” Claude asked.

Dimitri wrung his hands. “Since dinner…” 

“Dude,” Claude whipped his head around. “It’s midnight!”

“I know, I know,” Dimitri said apologetically. “I’m just…a little lost here.” 

“Poor little guy probably just wants a hug,” Claude said, reaching down to release Kevin from the carrier. He unbuckled the doll and took it in his arms.

Dimitri just watched him, silent and wide-eyed. Claude sat on the loveseat, bouncing Kevin gently, and sure enough, Kevin began to quiet.

“Hand me his bottle?” Claude asked, and Dimitri complied. He held the bottle to Kevin’s lips, and the baby began making contented suckling noises.

“You’re incredible,” Dimitri said in awe.

Claude’s face got warm, which was weird, because that never usually happened. He ducked his head. “What can I say? I'm good with kids.”

“Do you have many in your family?” Dimitri asked, head cocked.

Claude nodded. “Too many, yeah.”

Just then, Kevin began fussing again–but quieter, this time.

“Oh no,” Dimitri said.

“Woah, these things are high-tech! He probably just needs to be burped. Here, you try.” Claude stood up and held Kevin out to Dimitri, who jumped back like Kevin was radioactive.

Dimitri opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. He sputtered, “I…I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Claude asked, still holding Kevin out.

“I’ve…never held a baby before.”

“Are you serious? You don’t have any babies in your family?”

Dimitri shook his head. 

“No siblings or cousins with kids? No nieces or nephews or…?”

Dimitri shook his head again. “I am the youngest in my family.”

An existence like that must be…quiet. Peaceful. Claude was a little jealous.

“Wait,” Claude said, “How did you strap Kevin to your chest earlier?”

“Dedue.” Dimitri replied simply. Of course. 

“Here,” Claude said, “It’s easy.” He stepped toward Dimitri, who in turn took a step back. They continued like that, almost like a dance, until Dimitri’s back hit the wall.

“What if…” Dimitri’s voice was quiet. “What if I hurt him?”

Claude laughed, but Dimitri’s face was like stone. “Are you being serious?” Claude asked. “You’re not gonna hurt him. First of all, he’s made of, like, cotton. And plastic. Here.”

“No, no, no, no, wait, Claude, please–”

For a guy of his stature, Dimitri was surprisingly nimble. He managed to dodge out of the way no matter how Claude shoved Kevin at him. If Kevin went up, Dimitri went down. Kevin to the right, Dimitri to the left. Up, down, right again. Claude would be impressed if he wasn't so irritated.

Claude groaned in frustration. "Seriously, dude? Come on.”  An idea dawned on him. "Look, he's kinda heavy. My arms are getting real tired. I might just…"

"You wouldn't." Dimitri's eyes were wide.

"Goddess help me…my arms are giving out…" 

With that, Claude tossed Kevin into the air like a hot potato. Dimitri reacted quickly, extending his arms to save Kevin from smacking face first onto the ground.

“See?” Claude said. “Not so bad.”

Dimitri froze, like a deer in headlights. Kevin lay facedown in his arms.

Claude laughed again. “Not like that! Here.”

He reached over and adjusted Dimitri, only briefly admiring how toned his forearms were, into a more natural position, with Kevin nestled comfortably against shoulder.

“Like this…?” Dimitri asked. 

Claude nodded. "Just make sure you support his head. Now you burp him. Gently." Claude mimed a patting motion on his own shoulder.

Dimitri very, very carefully patted Kevin's back. Claude nodded encouragingly. A few more pats and then…Kevin burped.

"I did it!" Dimitri beamed, and. Oh. Huh. Did he always have dimples? And were his eyes always so…blue? "Claude, I did it!"

“Yeah you did! Just don’t be so stiff.” He reached forward again to adjust Dimitri’s arms and most definitely not to see if they were as toned as they felt the first time. With some help, Kevin was laying on his back, cradled safely in Dimitri's arms. “You can bounce him a little. Just go slow.”

Dimitri nodded and began to slowly sway. He smiled down at the doll like it was the real thing. In Dimitri’s arms, Kevin looked so tiny. Claude could see why Dimitri was afraid of hurting him. But the look in Dimitri’s eyes was so kind, so gentle, and his smile? Dimitri’s arms, though covered in scars from roughhousing and sports and whatever else, were probably the safest place a baby could be.

Claude didn’t even notice that he still had a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. It wouldn’t hurt if he let it linger just a second longer, right? “You’re not so bad at this after all."

Dimitri huffed a small laugh. “It's only because of you, Claude. Thank you. I didn’t take you for such an attentive caregiver.”

"Yeah, well. I'm full of surprises." Claude winked.

“Your family sounds lovely,” Dimitri said.

Claude shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly it's just annoying."

"I can see that. But I have to admit I'm envious." 

"Really? I would've killed to be an only child."

Dimitri frowned. "It's not all it's made out to be."

They both quieted, then, standing with only Kevin between them. Claude couldn’t help but wonder what Dimitri meant. Surely Dimitri would understand if he had to deal with years of siblings and cousins pushing him into the dirt–literally and figuratively. But the more Claude thought about it, he realized an existence like Dimitri’s must have been…lonely. Maybe he had been a little too harsh on Dimitri, and–

–and then Kevin farted.

“Um,” Dimitri started, “how do you change a diaper?”

“Right,” Claude said, rolling up his sleeves. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

________________________

Claude was right. It was a long night. But it actually wasn’t too bad. Kevin fussed, as usual, and to pass the time between crying fits Dimitri and Claude looked through the books in Dimitri’s collection (he had surprisingly good taste) until they fell asleep–Dimitri on the couch, Claude on the bed, and Kevin in his carrier.

The days passed quickly, to Claude’s surprise. He didn’t end up hating this stupid fake baby project as much as he thought he would. Once he figured out how to best respond to Kevin’s cries, it became pretty easy. And of course, he had a good partner.

Dimitri was an incredibly dedicated teen father. They spent almost every night in Dimitri’s room now, caring for Kevin until his cries quieted, and waking up when he started up again at some ungodly hour (usually it was Dimitri who got up to soothe Kevin, but Claude felt his role as moral support was just as important). And when it was Dimitri’s turn to have Kevin during class, he’d text Claude updates throughout the day.

At lunch, Claude found himself smiling fondly at a picture of Kevin with a paper hat that Dimitri had clumsily fashioned for him.

“What are you smiling at?” Hilda asked from across the table, coy smile on her lips.

“Oh, just some nunya.” Claude said as he placed his phone face-down on the cafeteria table. “Nunya business.”

Hilda just grinned. “You’ve been so happy this week. Maybe it has to do something with your new boyfriend?”

Claude crossed his arms. “Pfft. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my amicable co-parent.” 

“Well, your amicable co-parent is staring at you again,” Hilda said, jerking her thumb towards the blue lions’ table.

Claude looked up and, indeed, Dimitri was looking over at their table. He perked up noticeably and waved when Claude made eye contact. Claude smiled and waved back. Dimitri pointed to the baby carrier beside him, which held Kevin, bespoke hat still sitting jauntily on his head. Claude laughed and gave him a thumbs up.

“Oh my goddess,” Hilda said. “Just make out already.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Claude responded, tearing his eyes away from Dimitri. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Hilda said, “What are you doing after class today?”

“Taking Kevin to his papa’s lacrosse game.” 

Hilda choked on her apple juice. “Seriously? Claude.”

“What?” he said with a shrug. “Dima thought it’d be a good family bonding experience.”

“Right,” Hilda said, mentally noting that Claude didn’t stop smiling like an idiot all through lunch.

________________________

The blue lion girls gave Claude curious looks when he and Kevin began ascending the bleachers. He greeted them with a two-finger salute. What, Claude thought to himself, a guy can’t take his fake baby to see his fake dad’s lacrosse game?

“I didn’t know you liked sports,” Annette commented while Claude took a seat a few rows back.

“Me? I love sports. Totally.”

He did not. 

In fact, he didn’t even really knew what lacrosse was. Maybe it was like football, but with sticks? Or…hockey on grass? It didn’t really matter to Claude, anyway, because he finally spotted Dimitri leading the team in stretches out on the field. 

Claude leaned back on the bleachers and crossed his legs, trying hard to look like he was not trying hard. 

Dimitri finished up stretching and scanned the bleachers. He waved genially at his fellow lions, but when he caught sight of Claude, his face broke into a grin that could have lit up the whole field. 

“Claude!!” He yelled, his voice carrying up from the field and hitting Claude right in the chest. 

Claude raised a hand in greeting. The lion girls looked like they were going to give themselves whiplash, the way they were looking from Dimitri to Claude to each other.

Claude leaned back further and flipped the collar of his jacket up. Because it looked cool. Not because he was hiding a goofy grin or reddened cheeks.

The game breezed by in a flurry of balls and sticks and running and yelling. Claude was only able to discern what was going on by following how often the crowd cheered. At one point, Dimitri scored a goal, and Claude couldn’t help himself–he jumped out of his seat and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!” he whooped. “Did you see that?” he asked Kevin, who didn’t respond because he is a doll.

Mercedes smiled knowingly at him over her shoulder. Claude tried in vain to collect himself.

Despite Dimitri’s impeccable leadership, their team lost. A fact Dimitri apparently took personally, because he grabbed his lacrosse stick and snapped it in two over his knee.

Which, hm. Okay. That did something to Claude, though he couldn’t put into words what that something was. 

He tried hard to stop thinking about it, about how he kind of really wished he was that lacrosse stick, even as Dimitri walked up the bleachers to greet his adoring fans.

“You did your best, D!” Ingrid called as he walked on past them and towards Claude.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Dimitri said, sweaty and panting. “But I’m glad you came.”

Claude looked up at Dimitri, who was sparkling like a teen romance novel vampire in the sunlight, and wondered how easy it would be for Dimitri to toss Claude over his shoulder.

Maybe he did like sports, after all.

“No big deal,” Claude said with a wink.

But later that night, staring at Dimitri’s ceiling while the man himself snored on the couch, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was a big deal.

“I think,” Claude whispered, rolling onto his side to look Kevin in his beady eyes, “I might be fucked.”

Kevin said nothing. 

Fucking Kevin.

________________________

Dimitri was going to Claude’s room. 

That was normal, right? Just two dudes hanging out in a dorm room. With their plastic infant. Completely normal. 

So why was Claude pacing the floor, picking up the remnants of all the snacks Hilda had given him, putting his clothes away, and even making his bed? It was fine. Everything was going to be fine, Claude told himself as he looked in the mirror to fix his hair for the ninth time.

Dimitri’s couch had broken as a result of Sylvain and Caspar’s impromptu “baby wrestle mania,” which Dimitri had saved Kevin from. Claude had seized the opportunity to propose that they hang out and complete their final baby project reports in his room. Claude could sleep on the couch and Dimitri could take the bed, though Dimitri insisted on the reverse.

He’d never had anyone hang out in his room for more than an hour or two–partly because his room was a mess, mostly because he didn’t like the idea of someone getting to parse through his things. But this was different. This was Dimitri. And he would be here at any moment. 

Claude fixed his hair again and decided to throw on his favorite hoodie, the one with all the zippers and hidden compartments, because you never knew when you would need a comfort snack. And because wearing it made him feel a bit calmer.

A knock at the door nearly sent Claude skyrocketing through the roof. He took one last look at Kevin in his carrier, a deep breath, and opened the door.

And there was Dimitri, as clean and composed and handsome as ever. Dimitri smiled. Claude’s stomach did flips. 

“Hi,” Claude said.'

“Hi,” Dimitri responded. “May I come in?”

“Of course, of course,” Claude said, sweeping his arm wide. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Even after his attempts to tidy up, Claude’s room was considerably more cluttered than Dimitri’s. Movie posters, maps, comics, random bits of paper with miscellaneous quotes adorned the walls. His bookshelf and his desk were overflowing with books. And on top of his freshly made bed sat a ratty old stuffed bear wearing headphones.

“Is this…?” Dimitri said, pointing at the old toy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. In his rush to make his room more presentable, Claude had forgotten to hide that. “Ah…” Claude said, “that’s, um. That’s nothing, really. I’m just gonna–” 

Claude moved to grab the toy, but Dimitri sat on the bed and looked the bear in the eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. DJ, sir.”

Claude laughed, the tension melting out of his body. “Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here,” he said.

Dimitri looked at him and smiled. “It’s nice. It’s very….you.”

Claude mock-gasped. “You calling me messy?”

Dimitri chuckled and shook his head. “No, not at all. I like it.”

Claude’s face got hot. “Well,” he said, turning away from Dimitri, “let’s get these reports done, yeah?”

They set up on Claude’s bed, side-by-side on their laptops, Kevin asleep between them.  Mercifully, their reports didn’t take too long–Byleth had assigned them just a page of reflection on their experiences over the week.

Towards the end, Claude noticed he was just a smidge short on length. He glanced up at Dimitri and wondered briefly if he should include that he’d discovered he’s into guys who could break him, but he decided against it and settled for adjusting the font size of his periods.

After they’d finished, they sat back and watched a movie on Claude’s laptop, something with a lot of knights and swordfights and magic. Dimitri had suggested it, but Claude wasn’t paying attention because he had to scoot up close to Dimitri to fit the computer on their laps, where they could both see the screen. Claude could feel Dimitri every time he shifted, every time he shook with laughter–how could he focus on anything else?

Claude, always curious as to how much he could get away with, spent most of the movie grabbing on to Dimitri’s bicep when something funny happened and elbowing him whenever the lead knight did something that reminded him of Dimitri. He inched closer and closer to Dimitri through the movie, and by the end their arms were flush against each other.

“What did you think?” Dimitri asked him when it was over. He set the laptop to the side.

“That was so good,” Claude said, even though he’d only paid attention to exactly 15% of the plot. “It might’ve been a little violent for the little guy, though.” 

“Hey, I covered his eyes during the fights,” Dimitri said with a laugh. “Right, Kevin?” he asked the doll sitting on his chest. As usual, Kevin said nothing.

“The main guy was pretty hot,” Claude ventured. “He reminded me of you.”

It was dark now, but in the light of the laptop screen Claude swore he saw Dimitri’s face redden. “I’m nothing like him.”

“Oh, come on,” Claude said. “Handsome, self-sacrificing, noble…that’s all you.”

This time, he was sure–Claude saw Dimitri’s cheeks turn a bright red. “You’re too kind, Claude.”

Dimitri looked at him and smiled, so close Claude could see the dimples on his cheeks, the bags forming beneath his eyes. He smelled like laundry detergent and soap and a hint of musky, expensive cologne.

“You’re incredible, Dima,” Claude said, almost at a whisper, as he reached over and placed his hand on Dimitri’s. “I mean it.”

And then Dimitri caught him off guard–he leaned forward and kissed Claude, a quick, chaste peck on the lips, before shrinking back.

“I’m so sorry,” Dimitri said, face thoroughly red. “I couldn’t help myself, and I–”

Claude gripped on to Dimitri’s polo and pulled him in for another kiss.

He could feel Dimitri’s lips properly, this time. They were soft, if a bit chapped. Dimitri’s hand wandered to Claude’s back and pulled him closer. Claude tightened his grip on Dimitri’s shirt as Kevin slid off his chest and between them.

Claude pulled away first, because he was smiling so hard. Then–

RRRIIIP.

“...What was that?” Dimitri asked, eyes widening.

Claude looked down at the small space between them. “Oh, shit!” 

The soft fabric of Kevin’s body had caught on one of Claude’s zippers and had torn open, exposing a puff of white stuffing.

“Kevin!” Dimitri cried.

“Fuck, okay. Let’s just take a deep breath. Maybe if I just–” Claude tried to extricate himself from Kevin’s soft fabric flesh and pulled back more, but he only made it worse. More stuffing began to explode from Kevin’s chest as the tear grew. “Okay. We’re fucked.”

“Wait,” Dimitri said, “I know someone who can help.”

On the first floor of the dorms, Dimitri knocked on a door adorned with paper flowers and sparkly stickers.

The door opened and Mercedes greeted them with a smile, then looked down at Kevin, stuffing bursting forth from his chest. She sighed–tired, resigned, but fond.

“Come in,” she said, and stepped aside.

There looked to be at least three other groups of students inside, all attempting to nurse their children back from the brink.

Claude and Dimitri settled on the floor next to Edelgard. She looked haggard. Her normally perfect hair was askew and she had dark bags under her eyes. Next to her, poor Ashe attempted to thread a tiny needle with shaky hands.

“Woah. What happened here?” Claude asked. Their baby was missing an eye, and her arm was literally hanging on by a thread.

“Don’t ask,” Edelgard growled as she tried in vain to pop the eyeball back into its socket.

"Sheesh. Sorry." Claude mumbled. He scooted closer to Dimitri while Mercedes shoved Kevin's stuffing back into place. It was late, and he was tired, and he might have just committed manslaughter on a baby, but he felt warm and happy. 

“What’s the prognosis, doc?” Claude asked.

“He’ll have a little scar, but he’s going to be just fine,” Mercedes said.

Claude yawned. "That's okay. Scars are cool."

He smirked at Dimitri, who blushed and touched a hand to his own scarred arms in response.

Mercedes grabbed a needle and thread and began to patch up Kevin's wound. While he watched, Claude leaned into Dimitri, letting his head rest on Dimitri’s broad chest. Claude closed his eyes, just to rest for a moment, and he felt Dimitri's arm come up around his shoulders. Claude could feel himself dozing and decided to give in. Resistance was futile. Dimitri’s arms were just as comfy and safe as he’d imagined.

________________________

"I cannot believe this," Byleth began, arms crossed at the head of the classroom. "How did most of you manage to break your babies?"

"Well," Claude muttered under his breath, "you didn't exactly pick the best partners for everyone."

Dimitri, who sat next to him, chuckled. "Right?" He said, nodding towards Sylvain and Caspar, whose baby’s decapitated head sat sadly on their table. 

Byleth continued to lecture. They probably said something about having a do-over week with the babies, but Claude wasn't paying much attention, because beneath the table, Dimitri had threaded their fingers together.

"This time," Byleth said, pinching the bridge of their nose, "I think I'll let you choose your partners."

Murmurs broke out amongst the class. Most of the students' heads began turning towards their friends, or towards Raphael and Dedue, whose baby was the only one who survived the week unscathed. Unfortunately for the other students, they seemed set on sticking together.

Claude and Dimitri looked at each other. 

"What do you think?" Dimitri asked. 

"I think,” Claude said, “we’ve gotta stop almost killing our child."

Dimitri and Claude smiled at each other, and Kevin, chest patched up underneath his onesie, giggled in agreement.