Work Text:
Soren wakes up slowly. Warm and comfortable under Ike's weight, who’s fast asleep with his head on Soren’s chest, he’s content to stay exactly where he is.
The most effort he makes is to raise a hand just enough that he can play with Ike’s hair. It’s overgrown again, falling almost at Ike’s nose now. Soren secretly likes it, despite it being long enough that Ike's headband is having trouble keeping it from his eyes.
It's dangerous to have anything obstructing his vision while fighting, though, so maybe he'll offer Ike his help to cut it later — or style it, if he wants.
They have no plans for the day besides exploring the town during daylight, having arrived too late the day before to see much of anything. There's plenty of time to play around a little.
Ike sighs in response to Soren's touch, a soft little “mhm” that Soren knows all too well, and presses his face to Soren’s chest. It takes all Soren’s self control not to squirm as Ike’s stubble prickles his bare skin. He doesn’t want to wake up Ike, but is unable to help it entirely.
Waking up is a slow process these days. Soren had been quick to get up and out of bed for most of his life; a leftover habit from his childhood that he didn’t have any particular reason to abandon in the following years. It was useful for work and war, to always be on the go.
Ike had always been the opposite. He enjoyed his sleep, and would usually be up an hour after Soren at the very least, if not more. That only changed once: during the Mad King’s War. Sleep hadn’t come easy for Ike then, between the grief and the weight of their lives on his shoulders, he was always up early, weary yet ready for battle. It’d worried Soren endlessly, yet there wasn’t much he could do to help.
He’d tried regardless, to varying degrees of success. For Ike’s grateful smiles if anything. Thankfully, tragedy hadn't claimed that small joy forever; as the war came to an end, so did the days of Ike's poor rest. They weren't gone immediately, but, slowly but surely, they were left behind.
Three years after fighting Ashera’s Judgment, even bad nights were few and far between for them. Especially since they’d taken off traveling.
Happiness itself was easier now in so many ways. Soren feared he was alone in that, at first, doubting that Ike could possibly be fulfilled enough with only Soren by his side. However, every passing day makes it harder to deny that Ike is happy like this.
He was still stoic, as he'd always been, but his smile came easier now – even more than it had before the war. His stance is lighter, he's just… light. Happy.
They are happy. It still feels like a dream sometimes.
The mere thought still makes his heart flutter. Soren's lips curl into a smile, unbridled.
He doesn't know how long he stays there in a haze, drifting in and out of sleep. It's a while though, he knows from the rays of sunlight coming through the window, and the distant bustle of movement in the inn. Soren feels terribly self indulgent.
He starts growing restless eventually, however. Soren can be quite patient, and there's nowhere he enjoys being more than in Ike's embrace. But he does feel the need to get moving after staying still for so long.
Besides, one of them has to be ready and coherent enough to order them breakfast when Ike is ready to get out of bed. Goddess knows it won’t be Ike, for all that he’ll eat most of it.
That shouldn't take long either. Ike isn't as fast asleep as he looks, Soren can tell. He's not all that awake either, yet, despite his even breaths, he has that face that says he's just about getting there. It's Ike, though, he'll cling onto sleep.
Soren has no intention to disturb him; he also doesn't plan to stay in bed for much longer. Thus commences the difficult process of de-tangling himself from his husband.
Most people, when they look at Ike, don’t imagine he’s the overly affectionate sort. Those people are wrong. Soren himself hadn’t expected it at first, but he’s come to discover that Ike is a very affectionate lover, particularly so when comfortable and groggy from sleep.
It makes sense in hindsight. Ike did always prefer actions over words.
Soren loves it as he does every other trait of Ike’s, even if it’s the reason why it takes him substantial effort and willpower to get out of bed nowadays.
He attempts to lift the arm Ike has holding onto his waist, only making enough space to squirm away from under him; Ike proceeds to cling even harder. “Come on, Ike,” he murmurs, soft and soothing in case he really is still asleep.
“No,” Ike says, just as soft, as if the low volume will keep the illusion that he’s still asleep. From Ike's perspective, they've hardly been lying there for long at all. He's had too little of Soren in his day to already let him out of his sight.
So he was awake , Soren thinks. He feels a little smug.
“I want to get up,” he says. Simple and blunt, the way they both like it.
“Stay with me a little longer.” Ike’s voice is somehow both hoarse from sleep and honey sweet as he grumbles, face hidden in Soren’s chest. Who gave him the right to be this adorable? Soren is weak to it.
He’s too stubborn to give up entirely…. But his voice is clearly not as firm as before when he says, “I have been doing that for the past hour at least, Ike.”
Ike sighs; his stubble tickles Soren again. Then he looks up at Soren, head still tucked in his chest. “Can’t you stay for another hour? We have nowhere to go today.”
“We don’t.” Soren places a kiss on Ike’s forehead. “But I believe we’ll want breakfast soon regardless. And I want to move, my arm’s gone numb.”
Ike blinks at him as he thinks it through, still bleary-eyed. Though Soren mentioned breakfast, he didn’t seem to be hungry. It's no surprise, he’d never had much of an appetite in the morning. And despite the promise of food often winning Ike over, right now he wants Soren more.
And about that numb arm… There’s an easy solution for that.
Ike makes sure he has a secure hold of Soren, then rolls over so that Soren is the one lying on top of him instead. Soren squeaks in surprise, bracing his hands on Ike’s shoulders for balance.
For a moment, they’re both very aware of their lack of clothes, as Soren makes himself comfortable in the new position. Ike tenses briefly before telling himself to relax. “Better?” he asks. His hands don't leave Soren’s waist.
Soren huffs, just about pouting. “I’d be better if you let me up.”
Ike is charmed. If anything he wants him even more. “What if I didn’t?”
“Please?”
Sometimes the best strategy is to play the enemy's game. Or so Soren tells himself as he places kisses all over Ike's face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin. Not his mouth though, not yet.
There is a real chance that bribing Ike like this will work. It may also lead to even more time in bed.
Ike laughs, soft and sweet, then pulls him into a proper kiss. Soren can't help giving in, bracing his hands on Ike’s chest in the same breath as he melts against him.
“Stay with me a little longer,” he whispers against Soren’s lips. “We don’t have to go back to sleep.”
Well, if they aren’t going back to sleep...
As Ike’s hands travel lower down his back, Soren thinks to himself that this is certainly a way to spend his restless energy.
It’s only afterwards, when he’s boneless in Ike's arms, limbs a pleasant kind of sore, that Soren musters the will to glare at Ike. It's too fond to give even the faint impression he's anything but content, however. Mostly, it says “What should I do with you?”
Ike shrugs the shoulder not currently serving as Soren's pillow, unrepentant.
Soren half laughs half sighs. This time, his husband makes no move to stop him when he moves to get up. Soren rewards him with a long, lingering kiss before covering Ike with the blanket they’d thrown aside and leaving him in search of his clothes.
Not wanting to get up himself just yet, Ike hugs Soren’s pillow close and settles down. His gaze trails after Soren, enamored with the elegant way he moves, the grace of his figure. He can tell Soren knows he’s looking, too. It’s in the charming shade of pink covering his skin, and the way he keeps sneaking glances at Ike, eyes playful and bright.
He’ll follow him in getting cleaned up and dressed soon; there's time still. Soren’s always taken longer than he does when it comes to that – at least when Ike isn’t wearing armor. It comes with the long hair and elaborate clothes, Ike thinks.
Although he’s not as concerned, Ike will admit to caring somewhat about his looks. He has a few changes of clothes that go together, which is half the work already done. So long as nothing is torn and he doesn’t mismatch them terribly, there’s little to actually do.
For all that he prefers it this way, he loves watching Soren dress himself for the day. There’s a kind of magic to the simple yet careful way he does it, to all the little details that form the complete ending picture. The belts tied around his elbows, the earrings he’s taken to wearing lately, a matching set, golden like the wedding band on his finger.
Most of the time Ike's ring is in a chain around his neck – it's just safer that way, for swordwork. He wonders if he should wear it on his hand today, they are only going to walk around after all.
Ike considers asking Soren about it. He’s sitting with his back to Ike, gaze turned toward the table where he's laid his hairbrush and hair ties. It’d be nice to make him look at him.
The small mirror they carry with them is nowhere to be seen, still Soren’s hands move through his hair with confidence. Then again, Ike’s watched the process so many times across the years that even he has it memorized. It seems to have become muscle memory for Soren, to part long raven strands into two equal parts, tie them at his shoulder blades, then unite them again halfway down his back.
It strikes him, all of a sudden, how unique that is. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone tie their hair quite the same way. Soren hadn’t always either – Ike distinctly remembers him wearing a ponytail when he’d first joined the Greil Mercenaries.
“Where’d you come up with that hairstyle?” Ike decides he might as well ask. “It just occurred to me how unique it is .”
“I’m not sure,” Soren says, turning to Ike just enough that he can see the frown of his brows.
It’s been long since Soren thought about this, but even so, it’s no surprise when he searches through vague memories from his teen years and finds that this, too, leads back to Ike. What doesn’t?
He recalls a moment from when he’d been fourteen and hesitant, yet eager to win Ike’s attention. The two of them had been walking idly around the nearby woods during a free spring afternoon, chatting and watching the animals passing by – Ike had a particular fondness for the birds, Soren made sure to point out every single interesting one he saw.
Soren's hair tie had broken apart somewhere along the way. He hadn’t cared much for his loose hair, but Ike… Ike hadn’t stopped staring at him. It was so easy to see in hindsight why that was. He’d been confused at the time, however, and quite self conscious.
“Is there something on my face?” he’d asked Ike.
After a brief moment of Ike confusion, Ike had realized the reason behind Soren’s question and looked away. “Ah, sorry, Soren. There’s nothing wrong,” he’d said.
Soren remembers feeling hurt – rejected. “Then why…?”
Ike must have heard it in his tone, because he bashfully admitted, “I was just thinking that… your hair is beautiful like this.”
He doesn’t quite remember his response, but Soren bets he was more than a bit flustered. He’d worn his hair down for the following fortnight. It’d bothered him, but it was a small price to pay for Ike’s gaze.
It was only after Ike had noticed his distaste for his loose hair and gifted him a few new leather ties that Soren started experimenting with different ways to style it. Soren liked the one he'd chosen quite a bit. It had a nice flow to it while still staying out of the way.
Ike had liked it too, which had settled it for Soren.
“... I enjoy having my hair tied back,” Soren says nonchalantly, though the faint color in his cheeks betrays his even tone. “It falls everywhere if I don’t. But I… I wanted for it to look like it was down, more or less, and be interesting.”
“I didn’t know you put so much thought into it,” Ike says. He’s genuinely impressed, having never given his own hair much thought unless it was falling on his face. “I don’t understand it, but I think it’s pretty cool. You look handsome.”
Soren snorts. “You said that back then, too”
“Huh?”
“Back when I first started wearing it.” While he doesn’t spell it out for Ike, there’s enough meaning in his tone to hint at the truth.
Ike knows him too well not to pick up on it. He’s a sharp man, too, so Soren only needs to wait a few moments to see his face light up in realization.
“Is that why you kept it?” Surprised as Ike sounds, his voice is incredibly fond.
Soren huffs grumpily in response. “ Maybe .”
For a moment, neither of them says anything.
Ike gets up, his blanket hastily thrown over himself and crosses the distance between them. He’s always been a man of action, more than of words, and he couldn’t see a better way to express the affection he felt for his husband at that moment.
He embraces Soren from behind. It’s slightly awkward with him sitting down, though not so much when Soren rests his head on Ike’s stomach.
Ike leans forward to place a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re adorable, did you know that?”
“Ike!”
It takes Ike and Soren… a while to get out of their room. Neither of them minds; there's no harm in being late for breakfast every now and then.