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The way Ike kisses him should be scientifically studied, or it could be, if Soren had any plans to ever let him kiss anyone else. How can something leave him breathless, but make him regret every break he takes to breathe? He’ll simply have to conduct more research.
For now, though, he is content to simply observe as Ike bends over to scrub his fingers in the nearby stream, completely naked but for his quintessential headband. Soren watches from their picnic blanket, perhaps more indecent than Ike in his state of half-undress, wearing Ike’s tunic and wrapped in his cloak. The tunic is one Ike had grown out of and Soren had smuggled away just for moments like this: whenever he wants Ike to imagine him wearing nothing at all.
Shaking his hands dry, Ike stands up. When he catches Soren watching, he smiles with teeth. It’s cute enough to draw Soren’s attention away from his hips. “We should head back for lunch soon,” Ike says.
“We just had brunch,” Soren answers, not feeling much like walking anywhere.
“Okay, but that was brunch. I want lunch.”
“Do you know what brunch means? It’s breakfast, and oh, shh—” In the middle of his sentence, Ike leans down and plunges his freezing-cold fingers beneath Soren’s shirt collar. “You are hopeless,” he snipes, recoiling.
“Yeah,” he hums, unconcerned as he cups Soren’s already pink cheeks. With a squeak, Soren grabs the tail of his headband in retaliation, tugging it askew and forcing Ike to bare his neck to him. Then, he goes in for the attack, nipping him right beneath the bump there. Now it’s Ike’s turn to yelp in surprise. “You’re mean,” he pouts, meeting his eyes yet still holding onto Soren’s cheeks. It’s enough to make him think violent things. In any capacity, he wants to get his mouth on him.
“Personal space,” he mumbles, for both their sakes. Finally, Ike sits back on his heels, letting Soren’s face go. Soren tries really, really hard not to look him up and down, pressing a hand to his cheek and turning away to hide his persistent blush. “A novel concept, I know.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re a cuddlebug.”
“I’m a what?”
“And you’re always putting your cold feet on my shins. Consider this a taste of your own medicine.” As Soren scowls, Ike puts his hands on each of his shins, making a little noise like he’s just thrown water on a hot pan. Since Soren wasn’t looking, he is once again caught off guard. He doesn’t respond, though, because somehow that was both incredibly annoying and terribly cute. The same as every other time Ike manages to stump him, he’s a little too dizzy to figure out what he’s supposed to do next. “Let’s get lunch.”
Luckily, with Ike, there’s always one surefire course of action: putting food in his stomach. “Did I not pack enough for our picnic?” Soren asks, genuine. Slipping his legs out from under Ike’s hands, he sits up, crossing his ankles.
“No, you did a great job,” Ike assures him. “But that was brunch, and it’s way past lunch time now.”
“What?”
He looks up. Following suit, Soren notices the position of the sun through the leaves of the trees. Oh, no. “We’ve been out here for a while,” Ike summises. “It’s probably time to head back.”
“You noticed that and you didn’t tell me?” Soren scolds. “You could have said something!”
“I mean… I was kind of distracted.”
He can’t believe him sometimes. “At this hour, everyone will already be back at the fort.”
“So?”
Sighing, he gets on his knees, shedding Ike’s cloak. “Get dressed. We should head back as soon as possible, lest they wonder where we are.”
Quickly, they put their clothes on, pack up their picnic, and set off through the woods back to the Mercenaries’ fort. Soren keeps a clipped pace, trying not to worry about what he might find when he reaches his destination. Surely, the rest of the Mercenaries are competent enough not to get into trouble while their captain and manager are gone. While Soren doesn’t believe that for a second, that’s not really what quickens his step. Though he tells himself over and over that he doesn’t care what other people think… the truth is, however much he tries to shove that achy feeling at his chest down where no one can notice it, it persists.
He’s not naive. He knows that among the Mercenaries, he and Ike are closer to an open secret than clandestine lovers. Since returning to their countryside home, that much has become more and more obvious. It’s hard to hide the fact that the two of them share a bed when all of the Mercenaries have rooms that open into the same small courtyard. The nail in the coffin was the… incident involving Mia walking in on them sleeping together—literally, that is. If Soren were a being built of pure rationality he would have shut himself in his room, third from the end and empty but for the bed, and cut things off with Ike then and there. Instead, he had lain in Ike’s arms and let him smooth away every ‘what if’ his mind could conjure that night.
No one had asked why they were naked together, just like no one had asked why they were leaving Melior. The longer the Greil Mercenaries go without saying anything, the more paranoid Soren gets.
“I don’t regret it.”
Startled from his thoughts, he looks at Ike. Ike’s gaze searches the trees. “Regret what?”
“Spending more time with you. Making you feel good.”
Ah, so they are going to talk about the fact that the reason they’re late is because Ike was giving Soren his fourth orgasm of the day. “It’s inconvenient.”
“Well… kinda? But it was nice.” The King of Romance, calling sex ‘nice’. And Soren, the King’s Fool, blushing and breathing in deep. “You deserve that, you know? We deserve time together, same as anybody else.”
“We aren’t like everyone else.” It’s an immutable fact; thus, Soren should uphold it. Unable to help himself, he reaches out, hooking his pinkie and Ike’s. “I like making you feel good too,” he tells their hands, watching as Ike presses their palms together. His hands are so wonderfully warm now, as they usually are. “Selfishly, I’ll take all the time with you that you’re willing to give.”
“I’ll make you sick of me.”
Even if it’s a joke, Soren responds in truth. “Impossible.”
Soon, they arrive at the old fort the Greil Mercenaries call home. Soren’s key opens the door to the kitchen, where they drop off the picnic basket. “Seems we arrived in time for lunch,” he mentions, noting the mild mess in the kitchen and the hum of conversation in the next room. “You go ahead and eat. I’ll put the blanket away.”
Ike shakes his head. “No. You won’t come back to eat if you go. Something’s bothering you. You always try to hide when you’re upset.”
“I already ate. You were there. You literally fed me.”
“For the last time, that was brunch, not lunch,” he says, sounding stern. “I ate most of it anyway.”
“You were supposed to. It was for you.”
“All the more reason for you to come eat now.”
He frowns at the clever comeback. “You do understand how suspicious it will be if we walk into that room together, holding a blanket, no less?”
“They won’t learn anything new.” Reaching forward, Ike grabs the blanket from Soren’s arms and tosses it atop the picnic basket. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”
With a pointed glare in his direction, Soren heads for the door. Taking a second to tuck his bangs behind his ears and pray he looks presentable, he pushes his way into the dining room.
Everyone is here, gathered around the long, wooden table they all eat at. Only Oscar seems to be actually eating, the chef always the last to sit down to partake in his work. Mist, Gatrie, Titania, and Rhys all hang near to chat with him. A stack of bowls, cups, and spoons are piled at the other end of the table. Right next to dishes, Mia and Boyd are having an arm wrestling contest, supervised by Rolf sitting next to his brother and Shinon leaning against a wall. They all pause when Soren steps into the room.
A chorus of “heys” greets him alongside the piercing eyes and smiles. Keeping his face neutral, he hugs his elbows. “Ike is hungry. I don’t suppose you have any food left over?”
“Of course! I set some aside just in case you two decided to pop in,” Mist says, gesturing to a couple of bowls across the table from her.
Soren hesitates. “You didn’t make the soup, did you?”
“No, that was Oscar and Rhys,” she answers, either missing or ignoring Soren’s point.
“Thanks, you three,” Ike says, ready to sit down and eat. Soren follows him to the table, sitting to Ike’s left, across from Mist at the very end of the bench like always. He truly isn’t hungry, but Ike plops a spoon in a bowl and scoots it toward him anyway. Then, he begins inhaling his own soup. “Mm, s’good.”
“Need to get your energy back, yeah?” Gatrie jokes, waggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I guess I’m—”
“Shut up,” Soren interrupts, glaring daggers at Gatrie, who gives him an exaggerated wink. “Were you busy at the festival last night? Have some more soup, you need to keep your mouth full.”
“Sheeesh,” the man responds. “Come on, now! We all know why you skipped the festival. A mistake, in my opinion, for love was in the air last night!”
“Love was in the air everywhere, I think,” Boyd says suggestively.
“The festival was really fun!” Mist exclaims, rescuing the two muscle-heads from Soren’s inevitable wrath. “I wish you two would have come. It was so cute. There were all kinds of pretty decorations, and pretty outfits, and pretty gifts to buy…”
“Did you get anything for yourself?” Ike asks his sister.
Rising up, Mist sticks out her wrist. “Well, I didn’t buy anything, but Boyd got me this bracelet! It’s so beautiful! I don’t really have anything that matches it, but I like it anyway,” she promises with a shrug and a smile in Boyd’s direction. Interesting. Well, not really. Soren stirs his soup.
“Aha, well, I just thought that the pink matched your… um… cheeks!” Boyd shouts. Ike takes a deep breath, but he barrels onward: “Not that I like your blush or anything.”
“Hmph!”
“Now, now, Boyd. If you’re going to put your foot in your mouth, please don’t say anything at all,” Oscar lectures, then turns to Ike. “Oh, there were these wonderful meat pies being sold. And all sorts of sweets, of course. Soren, they had cheese pancakes with honey that I doubt I’ll ever forget!” Hiding behind his bangs, Soren tries not to be insulted that Oscar thought of him in conjunction to something so decadent. “Next year, you really should come. I hope you weren’t too swamped by work here.”
“Not at all,” he answers. Briefly, he thinks of his completely empty desk and the mess of papers that had been shoved aside to clear the space for… other purposes. Stabbing his spoon into his bowl, he rids himself of the memory. “I work most efficiently when I’m not constantly distracted by spontaneous disasters.”
“Be nicshe, Sorem,” Ike scolds through a mouthful of food.
“Swallow before speaking or you’ll choke,” Soren chides, shaking his head. Looking at Ike, he finds it hard not to teasingly poke his cheek. “The amount of times I’ve had to tell you that…”
“I really liked the dancing at the festival,” Titania gushes. As she goes on, Soren’s eyes lower to Ike’s throat as the man swallows. The skin there is covered in pinkish marks, both brazenly placed and poorly hidden. When he looks up, Ike’s staring back at him. They both smile, in their little secret way. “What the hell, you two aren’t listening to me anyway.”
Straightening up as if pulled by a string, Soren leans back, looking around Ike at Titania. She leans back as well, a smirk painting her face as she meets Soren’s eye. “I thought they’d be less moon-eyed after a night alone together,” Mist complains. She looks very serious with her closed eyes and crossed arms. “Ike, you’re so annoying.”
“What? That’s not fair,” Ike sulks.
“They aren’t annoying, they’re in loooooove!” Gatrie declares.
“They’re fucking, idiot, not getting married,” Shinon snaps. In an instant, Soren is on his feet. “What do you want, lollipop?”
“Why are you even here?” Soren asks. “If you’re not going to sit with everyone, you just look like a leering creep.”
Shinon tosses his ponytail. “I’ve got no interest in eating off a surface you got plowed on.”
How presumptuous! “We didn’t have sex in the dining hall, you freak.” Crossing his arms, he turns up his nose. “That’s what beds are for.” Once again, he is not thinking about his desk. Or the wall by Ike’s bedroom door. Or the picnic blanket.
“But you did have sex!” Mia yells, followed by a slapping sound. When Soren turns to his right, Rhys and Mia are both standing, the healer holding his hand over the myrmiddon’s mouth while Mia points triumphantly across his chest in Soren’s direction. Shaking Rhys off, she continues, “Owww. I walked through every door backwards when we got back. I’m so glad that wasn’t for nothing.”
“You what.”
Mia doesn’t answer right away, looking around the room as if she’s searching for support. Then, she sighs, putting her hands on her hips. “Well, if no one else is going to say it, I am. You guys are really bad at coming up with secret plans to sneak around.”
“What are you talking about,” Soren retorts.
Mia looks around again. The room remains silent, except for Rolf and Boyd drumming their fingers on the table as they study the ceiling. If looks could kill, Mia would probably be dead by now with the force Soren is putting into his glare. “Come on, guys, back me up here!” Mia pouts. She points. “Rolf!”
“Hmmmm?” the boy asks, still staring at the ceiling.
“You were literally just calling the Boss obvious right before he walked in!”
“I was?”
“You were,” Boyd confirms, seemingly unable to resist the temptation to tease his brother.
Soren returns his gaze to Rolf, who melts inward, hunching his shoulders. “Rolf, why is Ike obvious?” Soren asks, icy calm.
He starts fidgeting with his fingers. “Well, it’s just, it’s really obvious that you guys make up excuses to spend time together? Like, the other day Ike said he couldn’t train with me because you two were going to organize the library, but, uh, that didn’t happen, so…” His head snaps up, his demeanor completely changing as he glowers at Boyd. “Screw you! You were just saying that they both have love bites all the time!”
Soren watches Boyd regard the ceiling like he’s suddenly gained an interest in architecture. “Ugh, I said hickies, pipsqueak. Only virgins call them love bites.”
“There’s actually a technical difference,” Oscar corrects. “Hickies are a type of bruise. If you look now, you’ll see Soren has a hickey on the side of his neck, while Ike has a bunch of love bites.”
Thinking fast, Soren wraps his arms around Ike’s neck. On instinct, Ike brings a hand up to rest on his arm, then belatedly raises that hand to a spot on Soren’s neck he seems to have memorized. Oh, that’s… kind of hot, actually. With a huff, Soren forces the thought aside. “You’d know a lot about the intricacies of someone puting their mouth on you,” he mutters to Oscar, recalling all the times Oscar had shown up to an outing absolutely destroyed by someone or other back in Melior. Soren might get carried away at times, but at least he knows better than to make Ike look like he lost a fight with a hungry chipmunk.
“Please excuse my brothers,” Oscar says sweetly. “Boyd’s just jealous.”
A great commotion follows as Boyd bolts out of his seat. “I am not jealous! You were blinking back tears the other day going on about how romantic it is that Ike always gives his food to Soren! Bet you wish you had someone to do that with, huh?”
Oscar presses his palm to his chest, looking stricken. “It’s true. Making sure someone is fed is the purest form of love.”
“I just think it’s darling that they both do that,” Titania says. She has the gall to smile his way again. “Soren did it just now, when he walked in the room.” Damn her.
“Have you noticed how handsy they are with each other?” Mia asks. “It’s cute.” Self-consciously, Soren moves his hands to Ike’s shoulders. He’s not quite willing to move away, but at least he is no longer literally draping himself over him.
“It’d be cuter with a girl,” Gatrie begins. When everyone by the table rounds on him, he says, “But! But, the way Soren’s wearing Ike’s shirt is pretty cute.”
Everyone’s looking at him now. Well, shit. Soren forgot he was doing that. Ike hasn’t worn this tunic in over a year, how does anyone remember this thing is his? It’s not even the same color as it was before the war, the deep blue all faded from being washed.
“Also, can I say you guys totally look like you just got down and dirty? As an expert, I know the look well.”
“An expert?” Soren asks incredulously.
“Of course,” Gatrie drawls. His bravado fades as he scratches his head. “Ike’s headband is pretty obviously messed up.”
Soren sinks a bit behind Ike to hide while he tries to think of a retort. Now that he’s closer and not distracted by Ike’s hands on him, he notices that the knot of Ike’s headband is almost undone. Scowling, he makes a mental note to fix that once they’re alone again, if they ever are. Luckily for him, seconds later everyone turns to look at Rhys, who visibly startles. “Oh, are we going around the room? Uh, I think the way they look out for each other is admirable. Soren learned Healing magic just to heal Ike, and Ike is always checking in on him, making sure he’s okay…” His shoulders fall as a wistful expression overtakes his face. Soren grinds his teeth. “It’s rather romantic, isn’t it?”
“Once again, they are not lovers, they are fucking,” Shinon interjects.
“Obviously they’re lovers, you heartless animal!” Mist shouts, standing up to confront Shinon before Soren can even open his mouth. Good thing, too, because her statement shocks him into silence. “Just because you don’t know what love is—”
“Don’t be stupid. I know what love is,” Shinon interrupts again. “If they were in love, they’d be courting.” His gaze slides to Soren. “But they’re not.”
Soren might actually kill him. Ike seems to sense this—perhaps he feels the way his blood rushes, with how close together they are—because he places a warning hand on Soren’s thigh.
Stamping her foot, Mist climbs up on the bench so she can look down on Shinon. “Do you know what day it is? Are you dense? You’re such a fool!”
“It’s Saturday.”
“It’s the day after the Day of Devotion! And where were Ike and Soren? Off on their own! Where were they last night? Spending time alone together, even coming up with excuses to stay here while the rest of us went out on an overnight trip to the next village! Do you know who does that? Lovers do that!”
“Heh, so did Gatrie last year when he had a crush on one of the barmaids in Melior,” Shinon argues. “They’re stupid and young and hormonal. It’s not going to last once Ike grows out of it.”
“Shut up.”
Now everyone’s eyes are on Ike as he rises from his seat. Soren’s hands naturally fall to his waist, and he is content to keep them there, barely leaning his forehead on Ike’s back as he tries to calm down. “Don’t ever fucking say that again,” Ike curses.
Shinon takes a second to respond, but damn him, he does respond. “Curious, it is because Soren’s a boy, or because he’s got what you’re looking for anyway?”
Soren’s fingers make fists in Ike’s shirt. He is very grateful that he is blocked from Shinon’s view right now. “What it is, is none of your business,” Ike snaps. “But yeah, I’m gay. Is that a problem?”
“Ike,” Soren gasps without meaning to. Leaving the safety of his hiding spot, he steps over the bench so he can see Ike’s face. Ike’s not looking at him, his jaw set as he stares Shinon’s way. Soren wants to grab him, shake him, beg him, why did you say that? The whole point of sneaking around, of never saying anything out loud, of leaving Melior and the public eye—it was to prevent this. It was so Ike wouldn’t have to do this.
The truth is, Soren doesn’t care what other people think about him. He cares what other people think about Ike. They can know how he feels about Ike, they can call him slurs, it doesn’t matter as long as Ike’s reputation remains intact, as long as he stays in Ike’s shadow and Ike never turns around to cup his face. He’ll be a pitiful tragedy, he’ll be a freak, he doesn’t care. He’s orphaned and Branded, that’s all anyone not worth his time will think of him anyway. But Ike… Ike is Crimea’s hero. Ike is unfairly burdened with the weight of being a savior. Ike lies awake at night worrying that he’s failed the Mercenaries in a million different ways, thinking that he’ll never earn their respect because he’ll never live up to their expectations. Ike rejected the marriage proposal of a princess with the sole hope of escaping scrutiny. Yet here he is, admitting what Soren had worked so hard to hide.
“No,” Shinon says. “It’s not a problem.”
Soren hardly hears him. The whole world goes fuzzy as Ike wraps an arm around his waist. “Is that a problem for anyone else?” he asks.
“Of course not, Ike,” Titania says, standing up to pat Ike’s shoulder. “You two are safe here.” She nods at each of them in turn before lowering her arm, looking every bit like a protective older sister. “I’ll make sure of it by the blade of my axe.”
“Same,” Boyd agrees.
“Same!” Gatrie says, leaping upward with passion. “Except, in my case, they will meet the blade of my lance as I defend romance to my dying breath!”
“No one messes with my brothers but me!” Mist swears.
Oscar rises from the bench. “Ike, Soren, I know our circumstances are not the same, but in a sense, you are brothers to me. I stand by your side,” he declares, still sounding far too emotional.
“Wait,” Soren says, staring at everyone’s determined faces. “I didn’t say anything, but you’re all including me.”
Titania sighs. “Obviously.”
“Ob-vi-ous-ly,” Mia emphasizes.
“Yeah, obviously,” Rolf repeats. “Just like we’ve all been saying, well, everyone but Uncle Shinon… you’re obviously together.” He stands up, looking fierce. “And just for the record, no one who messes with you or anyone like you is getting away without my arrow in their thigh.”
“If you miss, kid, I’ll cover you,” Shinon says gruffly.
“And I’m definitely not healing them,” Rhys adds, earning a couple of chuckles.
As the laughter fades, Soren finds himself jostled to Ike’s side. “Great. Thanks,” Ike says, holding him close.
His hand finds Ike’s back, hoping to steady his obvious nerves. “Your support is valuable,” he admits, looking down so he doesn’t have to deal with anyone’s reaction. He hears Titania coo anyway, but decides to ignore it. “Note that if any of you ever turn on Ike, I am more than capable of taking you down.”
“Come on, Soren, lighten up,” Ike commands. “They all said they support you, too.”
“That doesn’t concern me, as long as they support you.”
Ike’s hand falls to hip. “We’ll run ourselves in circles at this rate,” he muses, tracing the shape with his thumb. “Have a seat. Let’s finish our lunch.”
One last glance sound the room convinces Soren that it’s safe to do so. It seems he doesn’t have to smack anyone, not even a certain redhead archer. Temporarily breaking from Ike’s side, he moves back to his seat. Everyone follows suit—and everyone had stood up, hadn’t they? Maybe they can be trusted with this part of Ike. With this part of him. “Let me warm your soup,” he says quietly, reaching for Ike’s bowl and placing it in front of him. He begins chanting in Ancient, calling the warmth of Fire to his hands. O Spirit of Fire, make use of the instrument of my body…
“Thanks, Soren, that’s nice of you,” Ike says. “By the way, just because I can’t marry him doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
The bowl ignites in a sudden explosion of flame.