Chapter Text
Despite his best efforts, Ike has lost track of what Soren has been saying yet again.
Soren will notice soon if he’s not careful, if he hasn’t already, but Ike can’t help it, no matter how aware he is that he should pay attention to what Soren tells him in their meetings about finance. It is not only his duty as the Greil Mercenaries’ commander to listen attentively to his decisions and recommendations, but also, Ike respects his friend too much to disrespect his time by disregarding his words. Yet, in spite of this, he couldn’t have related a word that Soren has said in the last twenty minutes even if pressed for it.
He wants to pay attention, he truly does. It’s just… become difficult to focus when around Soren lately. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it’s become difficult to focus on anything but Soren.
There’s more than enough of his attention placed on contemplating the softness of Soren’s lips, the feel of his skin on Ike's hands, the way his hair frames his jaw. It’s early enough in the morning that the sunlight coming through the window is still comfortable rather than overpowering, and Soren looks softer bathed in its warm glow. His eyes shine with intensity when he looks at Ike, deeply invested in his duty as he’s always been prone to be; they augment Ike’s guilt as much as they entrance him, reminding him of what he should be focusing on even as they tempt him to get further lost in his best friend’s every detail.
The heat pooling in his stomach is a feeling with which Ike is still getting acquainted. It keeps him trapped under that gaze as Soren leans forward in his chair, resting his arms on the table between them. His brows furrow. “Ike,” he sighs. It’s the first word he’s heard from Soren since his attention was lost during something about their food supply and Ike can’t say he’s upset about it. Soren’s tone is far from content, however. “Ike? Are you listening?”
Ike has the grace to grimace, feeling sheepish. “Ah, I'm sorry, Soren, I wasn't paying attention.”
"I couldn’t have guessed." His apology is dismissed with an exasperated huff and a mild glare that promises some form of retribution depending on what else he has to say for himself. But there’s some concern there, too. “Is there something worrying you? It’s unlike you to be this distracted.”
Talking to Soren used to be so easy, now Ike doesn't know what to say. How could he tell him that he’d been too busy thinking about what Soren would do if he’d captured his hand in his? Wondering how he would react to being pulled forward, brought close enough to kiss? He’s still unsure of what’s the answer to those questions.
He’s still very dedicated to finding out, however. Ike desperately wants to know if Soren would welcome those advances. If in response his eyes would light up even as his cheeks would flush pink from want, or if he’d glare at him in confusion, or perhaps anger, at Ike for having misread what was going on between them. For all that Ike knows him well, Soren makes it particularly complicated to tell which reaction his would be.
Soren has had stars in his eyes when looking at him since they were children, an open admiration that has matured with time rather than wavering. Ike isn’t certain what he’s done to earn it, though he’s done his best to honor his friend’s faith in him. What he does know is that it had been an entirely innocent feeling then, childish and earnest. Now… he can’t tell if it’s grown to include the same wants Ike feels; can’t discern which lines Soren would be willing to cross.
It’s cowardly of him, he thinks, but he doesn’t want to risk Soren rejecting him. Although he knows it wouldn’t change their friendship, it would still hurt.
“My mind is just wandering today,” he says, purposefully neglecting to mention just where his mind has been going. "Could you run that by me again?"
Soren’s frown deepens. “You don't look tired,” he accuses, clearly searching Ike's expression for the answers he won't offer.
It's rare that Soren can't tell what Ike is thinking at a mere glance. Ike remembers having a few conversations just like this during the war, where Soren would tell him to go rest or take a break to eat, knowing what he needed sometimes even before Ike himself did.
To his relief, whatever expression he must be wearing seems to be one that Soren has yet to decipher, as he seems more confused by the second.
“I’m not,” he confirms. Ike can’t help but want to tease Soren for how out of sorts he looks by his inability to discover what’s on his mind, he only refrains because it’s a dangerous path to lead the conversation on if he wants to leave with his secrets intact. “I just… have something on my mind.”
Soren doesn't waste any time, swiftly cutting through his excuse. “What is it?”
Ike appreciates his blunt pursuit for answers, and were this any other secret, he’s certain he would have shared it with him; there’s no one he trusts more. Yet this is something he isn’t ready to share. “... I’ll tell you later, alright? It’s something I have to think through myself.”
He’s sure that if he were to point it out, Soren would deny it, but Ike can’t describe the disgruntled expression he makes at that response as anything but a pout as his cheeks puff ever so slightly in annoyance. Ike softens in the face of it, his desire quenched by fondness. Fierce as he often is, Soren can also be so sweet.
“Don’t look at me like that, I promise I’ll tell you someday soon.” He smiles, resting his elbows on the table and leaning closer to his friend. “For now, would you please continue telling me about this month’s budget? I’ll pay attention this time.”
That manages to mollify Soren somewhat, though his lips remain pursed. “Tell me where I lost you.”
He searches his mind for anything he can remember on the topic before he’d gotten caught up daydreaming about Soren. “When you were talking about food I think.”
“Of course you heard that.” Soren rolls his eyes, but his tone is light and teasing.
In retribution, Ike kicks him lightly. Soren doesn't hesitate to kick back, which prompts Ike to kick him again, and just like that they end up in a small competition. It's silly, but that's just what they need to ease the remaining tension from Ike denying Soren his thoughts.
They're both smiling when they break away, with their slight setback from before not forgotten, but left alone. Ike knows that Soren will try to figure him out on his own, just like he somehow learnt that Ike’s left eye twitches when he’s tired and he’ll bite his lip when excited. His only hope is that he’ll be ready to share his feelings when that time comes.
Although, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to be wordlessly understood. Regardless of what he thinks of Ike’s feelings, he knows Soren will be kind.
He wants to keep the smile on Soren’s face, so he takes the initiative to return to their previous subject, determined to put focus on it this time around. “You were saying that we’re not tight on money this month, but you wanted to be careful with our expenses to save for something else…?”
Soren settles back on his chair, but as expected, he seems pleased. “Yes, there’s a few things we need this month that we normally don’t include in our restock budget.”
“Like what?”
“New clothes, for one,” Soren says, looking pointedly at Ike. “Since someone keeps ripping the seams of his shirts.”
“Hey!” Ike grumbles, giving him another light kick, “it’s not my fault that I’m growing taller and stronger.”
This time, Soren doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he stares at Ike for a few seconds too long with an expression he can’t quite place, and when he replies, his voice is slightly rougher. “Indeed.”
Ike blinks, unsure how to feel about the strange change in tone. But Soren doesn’t give him time to dwell on it, moving on with his report before Ike can question him. He reckons that if he’s keeping his own secrets, it’s only fair that Soren be allowed to keep his. But, just as he's certain Soren has done, Ike commits himself to discovering just what that odd expression of his is about – if it ever comes up again, that is.
It’s comfortable in Soren’s office as the two of them settle back into their normal dynamic. There’s something more there, resting just at the edge of his awareness, threatening to distract him whenever the light hits Soren in a particularly beautiful way, or he looks at Ike from under his eyelashes, bites his lips in thought, or a number of other charming little things about Soren that Ike could get lost into, but he sets that away for another time/
There’ll be time for that later, for now he has a meeting to dedicate himself to.
Fifteen minutes into trying to find Ike some clothes that actually fit properly, Soren has yet to decide if sitting in a fitting room as Ike tries on shirts is a particularly captivating experience or a creative form of torture. On the one hand, he can’t deny the allure of watching Ike shrug out of his current top to try on one of the tunics the two of them picked as an option for him to wear outside of work. On the other hand… it's been fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and his heart is already beating erratically in his chest while he contends with the familiar heat Ike tends to bring upon him.
The only reason that Soren has been able to keep his composure from wavering is all the practice he’s had – especially since Ike started growing into his own.
“How does that look?” Ike asks him, spreading his arms to show off the red tunic he’s just put on. It hangs slightly loosely on him – to give him room to grow – and, as he hasn't bothered to tie the lacing at the front, his chest is open for Soren to view. It's quite distracting.
"Good," he says honestly. "You look comfortable."
He can't be certain if the tunic is actually comfortable from where he’s sitting a couple of steps away from Ike, but he hopes so. All items Soren had chosen had been soft to the touch, but even so, sometimes the cut of fabric or the arrangement of the seams could be enough to ruin a garment.
He could take a closer look if he wanted, however approaching Ike seems like a dangerous endeavor, so he'd rather allow Ike to share that tidbit himself. It's more than enough that Soren gets to see him like this, looking soft and approachable in a way that he isn't when ready for battle.
There’s a part of him that wants to be tender and loving, to go there and tie the lacing at his collar and fix where the shirt falls a little awkwardly at his shoulders. It's an urge that exists in tandem with the thoughts of what else he might do were he permitted to touch Ike in all the ways he desires. While not in contradiction, these two wishes are certainly difficult to balance.
Ike rolls his shoulders tentatively, testing to see if the fabric remains comfortable as he moves. "It does feel nice," he hums. "I think this one is a keeper."
He proceeds to take the shirt off without preamble, adding it to the pile of items from their selection that they might take home. They won’t take them all if there ends up being too many options, Ike only needs two or three outfits besides his usual battle uniform. Unsurprisingly, Soren’s eyes gravitate to Ike’s naked torso once again. He is no stranger to the sight of Ike in various states of undress – they’ve shared a room for many years after all, and both being boys, they didn’t have many qualms about taking their shirts off near each other while growing up – but it’s not a view he’ll ever tire from seeing.
Ike moves with the grace of an experienced fighter. It isn’t elegant in a delicate sense, but the ease in which he carries himself is beautiful in its own way. Soren is helplessly charmed by it while Ike chooses another of the couple of options they’d selected. He changes into a green tunic that’s somewhat more formal than the one he’d tried before, given the small details in golden embroidery around the cuffs of the sleeves, the collar and the hem.
Soren had added that one to the pile on a whim, thinking it might be good to have something for special occasions, although mostly, if he's being sincere with himself, he'd thought Ike would look handsome in it. He’s proven correct even before Ike turns toward him.
This time, he doesn't resist the urge to approach Ike and fix the small opening in the collar for him. Ike stays put, giving Soren a look that tells him he knows exactly how bothered Soren had been by his lack of care for such details when trying the red one on.
Though Soren doubts he knows the full extent of the feelings he’d been having. He’s never made much secret of his love, but he’s taken great care to conceal his wants.
Ike’s lips curl slightly on the right, and his eyes glimmer with familiar playfulness. "Careful there, I'll start thinking you want to see me back in a palace at this rate."
"Ah, yes, of course. You've caught me, I dearly miss life among the nobles and their petty squabbles," he deadpans, "I've also neglected to mention that my name is Shinon."
"And here I thought it was my best friend I’d brought with me," Ike snorts. Then he softens. "Do I look good?"
"Yes," Soren says. It’s somewhat of an effort not to show just how honest he’s being with that statement while Ike is so close, but he thinks he manages it. "It would do well if you'd like something slightly less casual for future events we may be invited to."
"I'll set this one aside too then." That odd expression Soren has yet to be able to name settles on Ike's face again as he starts undoing Soren's careful work on his collar. "Though I think it'll need a few adjustments."
“If you’d like,” he says absent-mindedly. The unusual intensity of that gaze has thrown him off-balance, so much so that there's a treacherous warmth in his cheeks that Soren can only hope has shown no outward effects.
Ike hums in reply, mind seemingly elsewhere. Soren is reluctantly grateful for his distraction, although that does mean he has to remind him to continue trying on the rest of the things they’d selected.
The rest of the process is more or less uneventful, at least from the outside. Internally, Soren continues to struggle with keeping some restraint on his thoughts, though he puts some distance between them by returning to his seat. In the end, he manages to survive through Ike choosing two more casual shirts in the same vein as the first one to wear at home.
Then they finally arrive at the reason why they’d come to this particular place: Ike starts trying on undershirts he might be able to pair with his armor. Given how fitted it will be once they commission it – their next stop, so Ike will finally be able to stop wearing the standard set he’d been making do with – whatever he wears underneath should fit just as well. It’s not strictly a need, but Soren is happy to spend more money on good clothes that can be tailored to his exact fit so they won’t interrupt during battle rather than buying something that might not be as comfortable or durable. They dress for combat too often to accept being constantly bothered by what they wear.
It is, obviously, no less tortuous than watching him try on anything else. It might even be worse. Ike has just a few choices of what he thinks he will prefer wearing while fighting, and yet… as Soren watches him button up his second choice – a tight white undershirt that leaves very little to the imagination, cut much like the one he used to wear under his previous getup.
While Soren has no complaints about the view, the face Ike makes says he’s not as pleased with it.
"I'm guessing this is not to your taste?"
"It's too tight across my shoulders."
Soren isn't surprised, it had been the problem with the first one as well. It should be easy enough to fix once he finds something he likes enough in spite of that, that's why they're at a tailor after all. Still, he decides to tease. "You might as well give up on sleeves at this rate. I'm starting to doubt any of them will be a comfortable fit."
"... That might actually be a good idea," Ike muses, earning himself a blank stare from Soren.
He hadn't expected that his teasing suggestion would be taken seriously. However, after a brief detour to peruse over some more options, he finds himself watching Ike change into a sleeveless cotton shirt. It's tight too, though it doesn't seem to be uncomfortably so, and the slightly transparent white fabric is... a choice, certainly. It isn't anything outside of standards for undershirts, Soren is merely unable to will himself not to notice these details – though, frankly, he isn't trying too hard.
"This does seem like a better way to go," Ike says, visibly happier as he goes through a few sword forms.
"Yeah," Soren agrees, mouth dry. “After a few adjustments, it’ll do well.”
“I think so too.”
He can't help wondering how the fabric would feel against his hands were he to hold onto it while pulling Ike into a kiss. How it'd feel while being taken off of Ike, perhaps hastily, perhaps while damp with sweat, as they get lost in one another. Soren half regrets that he's said anything, as much as he appreciates the outcome, he isn’t certain how he’ll ever be able to focus in battle again with these images in his head.
Having already looked at Ike for longer than considered friendly. Soren forces himself to look away, trying to pretend that the bag on his lap is suddenly very interesting. He isn’t worried about staring exactly, he’s definitely made it a habit of doing so ever since he was too young to realize why that might be unusual and could reason with himself that anyone would want to look at Ike. And he’s been studying Ike more closely since that day in his office, so it shouldn’t be strange that his gaze lingers now.
Still, it wouldn’t do to get too lost in daydreams while they’re doing errands, so he refrains from indulging in them. It’s a challenge, certainly, even more so when Ike moves on to shopping for pants. With them not sharing a room anymore since they’d left the fort back at the start of the war, Soren hasn’t seen so much of Ike in quite some time… the novelty of the situation doesn’t make it any easier to prevent his eyes from lingering. Soren perseveres, of course. He’s well practiced at that by now – though how successful he is could be debated.
Finally leaving the store is a relief. There’s still Ike’s armor for them to sort out, but the walk to that shop offers a welcome break from this elaborate torment.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything for yourself?” Ike asks while they’re still in front of the shop. “It’s been a while since you’ve replaced anything but your robes.”
“There’s nothing else I need.” He shrugs, starting to walk in the direction of their next destination. Ike follows without question, though he seems to still be thinking about it, so Soren adds drily, “You do know that not all of us have grown to be twice our size, right?”
Ike bumps his shoulder against Soren’s, lips curling into a slight smile. “But you did grow.”
Although the ‘I noticed’ goes unsaid, Soren is no less flustered for it.
“I have, yes. My things have already been replated.” He doesn’t elaborate, just as he carefully doesn’t think about where exactly those replacements had come from.
“Always so efficient,” Ike says fondly. ”Alright then, where to now?”
“Your armor, then we need to buy groceries, a few supplies to repair the stables since we’ve already used most of what we’ve had on the fort, Rolf and Shinon could use some more bowstrings and feathers for their arrows, a couple of whetstones… ”
“That’s quite the list,” Ike says, but he doesn’t sound too stressed at the prospect of spending the rest of his morning running errands. In fact, he seems quite relaxed. “Do you think we could stop for lunch?”
Soren takes a second to consider it. They don’t need to, it’d be more practical to go back to the fort and eat there, but… “Maybe. If we have enough money once we’re done with everything.”
“I’m sure you can arrange for that, right?” He seems so hopeful, glancing at Soren with a gleam in his eyes that conveys exactly how much he believes in this and is looking forward to it.
This time when Soren’s heart skips a beat, it feels sweet. Ike isn’t someone many would describe as cute; he is handsome, yes, and beautiful and a string of other adjectives it’d take Soren too long to list, but his strong physique and taciturn nature usually don’t lead themselves to softer descriptions. Yet Soren is drawn to them in times like these, when fondness makes some of the ice coating his heart melt.
Even as he emphasizes to Ike that though he might be able to, he can’t promise anything, Soren sets himself to the task of ensuring they get to stop and eat lunch together. He truly can’t deny Ike anything when he looks at him with so much trust. Besides, it would be nice to do something like that, just the two of them.