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Dimitri rolled his shoulders as he waited in the cafeteria’s queue, barely easing the pressure from the weight of his sports bag. The strap dug into his collarbone, and he could tell a rash was beginning to form in the small patch of skin not covered by his sports uniform. With a hint of annoyance, he thought that maybe Edelgard was right: his reluctance to store his material anywhere he couldn’t control was going to be uncomfortable, leave him with a sore back, and turn out to be “an absolute pain, much like you”.
He sighed and shifted the bag to his other shoulder, trying to shake Edelgard’s biting words from his head as the line inched forward. He just wanted to grab a quick bite and sit down in a quiet corner. And perhaps five minutes, maybe, to pretend he wasn’t a prisoner of an endless cycle of obligations that left no room for thought or breath.
He disinterestedly glanced at the menu on display, weighing his options with the precision of someone who had long since learned to navigate the minefield of Coach Byleth’s nutritional lectures, when a sudden commotion behind him broke his focus. Someone was laughing–loud and unrestrained, above the din of the cafeteria, and dragging many other laughs with him.
Dimitri glanced over his shoulder, his brows furrowing as the source of the commotion came into view. A man with chestnut-brown hair and the slightest hint of sideburns was weaving through the line with boundless energy, bouncing between people and groups while somehow being the soul of each conversation. He joked, greeted, gestured and made plans for a few parties, his green eyes shining with a carefree confidence that immediately set him apart from the sleep-deprived crowd around him.
Dimitri’s frown grew deeper as the man’s chaotic orbit drew closer, not sure whether he wanted to be caught in it. It was the volume of his voice, the way he seemed to command attention without even trying; it was even how he moved through the line, completely unbothered by the glares of students he’d brushed past. Where others seemed worn down by stress, this stranger seemed to thrive on it, as if chaos was just a fun game to be played and to be won.
Then the man’s eyes locked on him, and a playful smirk spread across his face as if Dimitri had been waiting just for him.
“You,” he said, apparently enjoying how the word rolled in his tongue. “We haven’t met yet, right, Dimitri?”
“We have not.” Dimitri felt his eyebrow shoot up at the instant, and very much unearned, familiarity. Just who was this man? “I would introduce myself, but it does not seem to be necessary.”
“Oh, it is absolutely necessary.” The man clapped him on the shoulder, grabbing random packaged food for both of them as he dragged him across the counter. So, all he did want was to skip the entire queue, after all. “Name’s Claude, and we very much need to get to know each other, I’ve been told.”
“Told by whom, exactly?”
“If I say “fate”, do I get a free dinner?” Claude quipped, grinning as he pointed at the cashier with a flick of his chin. His audacity was astonishing and in full display as he stood there, completely unfazed by the immediate disbelief in Dimitri’s face. And yet, there was something about Claude’s unshakable confidence and the casual ease of his grin that almost made him wonder if he was the one out of step. It was as though the rules of normal social interactions simply didn't apply to him, and he knew it.
No, Dimitri realized, he relied on it. The grin on his face was smug and mischievous; the look in his eyes was quiet and calculating. Claude knew precisely what he was doing, and was very much hoping Dimitri would go along for the ride.
“Absolutely not,” Dimitri replied, hiding his irritation behind a calm and firm tone that was practiced, studied, and very much see-through. “Please do hurry. You are holding up the line.”
“Sheesh. Hard to get, aren’t you?” Claude swiped his card, somehow keeping the food and drinks still balanced in his arms. “Fine, my treat then. Help me get this to a table, come on.”
“Why would I?”
“Dude, come on,” Claude said exasperatedly. “One, I paid for your dinner, two, I am actually serious about the “getting to know you” thing. Coach Byleth is taking up fitness training for the archery team, and I want to know what her deal is before my next session.”
Ah. An apology tried to climb out of Dimitri’s throat, but only a resigned and exhausted sigh found its way out. “She’s exceptional at what she does,” he admitted, his voice now softer. “I’m surprised she is not actively competing herself. Both Edelgard and I have certainly improved since she was brought in.” Dimitri extended his arms and grabbed the snacks about to fall off Claude’s arms, very much forcing himself to accept that yes, that would be his dinner now.
“Look who’s chatty now,” Claude teased. “Yeah, she’s really happy about Byleth’s coaching, but I wanted a second opinion. She looked very… uh, biased?”
“As in?”
“As in, I know what fuck me eyes look like.” Dimitri snort laughed. Well, Claude was certainly not blind, that’s for sure. “I swear she’s going to stab me for real if I interrupt their session again.”
“In your defense,” Dimitri replied, “I think she is actively looking for a chance to stab something for real.”
“Then I’ll need you to protect me. I’m only good at long-distance stabbing, you see, while a strategic retreat is still possible,” Claude said, winking and mimicking an arrow shot. “You’re carrying that… thing around all the time too, so I just hope you’re quick on the draw, your Princeliness.”
“A foil, and that’s not how fencing works.”
“Almost got it right though, right?” he said with a wave of his hand, sliding into a nearby table with such dexterity that it felt like a rehearsed dance move. After a moment of hesitation –and the realization that Claude had, in fact, paid for his food– Dimitri sat across from him. Somehow, the conversation flowed, effortless and natural: about fencing’s intricacies (“stabby chess, got it”, Claude summarized), about archery (“stabby chess, but across the room, and it’s actually tic-tac-toe?”, Dimitri offered, earning a laugh from Claude), or about Byleth, her relentless training routines, and her uncanny ability to materialize out of nowhere, offering tips and corrections that left her athletes both impressed and unnerved.
By the time they’d finished eating, not only had Claude managed to pull him into an actual conversation, but he’d done so with an ease that felt unfair. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Claude’s energy filled the space between them like sunlight spilling through a window; and for every sarcastic comment he made, he also asked a thoughtful question, which Dimitri found himself answering with surprising candor. Claude wasn’t insistent or pushy –if anything, he was a master of deflection, steering the conversation away from any topics he didn’t want to touch– but he listened. He had a disarming way of nodding and leaning forward just enough, as if Dimitri’s words were the most fascinating thing he’d heard all day.
This is a trap, said a voice inside Dimitri’s head.
“You’re not nearly as intimidating as I was told you’d be. You’re actually kind of fun, Dimitri.”
“Should I say thank you for the compliment?”
“Only if you want more.”
The voice was promptly ignored and kicked out of Dimitri’s mind. It was easy to ignore the warning when Claude was looking at him like that.
Claude leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, drinking in Dimitri’s silence. His smile was as wide and unshakable as ever, but there was a glint in his eyes that Dimitri couldn’t quite place–something sharp, almost predatory, beneath the easygoing charm.
“So,” Claude said, drawing out the word like he was savoring it. “What’s a guy gotta do to get your number, Your Princeliness?”
Dimitri raised an eyebrow. “Have a good reason to contact me, I think.”
“Oh, come on,” Claude said, waving a hand dismissively. “I thought I had already convinced you to talk to me! Relax a little.”
“I am relaxed,” Dimitri said, though the way he gripped his water bottle suggested otherwise. His gaze drifted to the windows where the late afternoon sunlight streamed in, casting long shadows across the cafeteria floor. The light caught on the edges of Claude’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the faintest hint of stubble along his jawline. For a moment, Dimitri wondered how someone could look so effortlessly put together while also seeming like they’d just rolled out of a late power nap.
Claude’s grin widened, and he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I could take a picture for you. I also think I look hot today.”
Dimitri shot him a look, but Claude only laughed. “You’re impossible,” he finally muttered, with no real heat behind the words. His mind bounced like a pingpong ball between giving up his number and standing his ground –he picked up his phone, then faked reading a non-existent text, then put it in his pocket, then placed it on the table again— when his own frustration won over. Dimitri didn’t act like a middle-schooler. They had a reason to talk, and what was the worst that could happen?
“Try not to bother me too late at night,” he said, sliding his phone across the table.
“I would never dream of interrupting your beauty sleep, sir.” Claude shot himself a text before sliding it back. “Well, this has been fun, but I should probably let you get back to your princely duties. Wouldn’t want to keep you from saving the realm or whatever it is you do in your spare time.”
Dimitri rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to distract me regardless, the realm be damned.”
“You know me too well already,” he said, shooting Dimitri one last grin as he stood up. “But don’t worry, I’ll mostly be on my best behavior. I don’t think it’ll be too long until we see each other again, given the circumstances.”
“What makes you so sure? I don’ t think we’ll be put together for training for a while.”
Claude’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes–something calculating as he weighed his next move.
“I know what fuck me eyes look like.” Claude winked and turned around, visibly putting on some headphones to drown Dimitri’s protest before walking away.