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It was a common occurrence for Lorenz to be in an absolute tizzy around the time of the new year. Everyone employed by House Gloucester — and frankly, every subject in the United Kingdom — bore the weight of Lorenz's oversight. It usually only meant something along the lines of a reunion among the Deer, and how he needed everything to be absolutely perfect.
This time was different.
"You really rolled out the red carpet for me, huh?"
Landing his wyvern gently, Claude leapt from the back of it. His flowing robes almost caused his descent to be slow, graceful. Maybe that was just the rose-tint to Lorenz's eyes painting him that way. All the guards stood at attention, spears pointing upward to pierce the blue Fódlan sky. Lorenz stood with one hand on his hip, a little breeze tousling lavender hair across his face.
"You are royalty, of course," he responded as Claude stopped in front of him. "It would be an utter breach of decorum otherwise."
Breach of decorum, Lorenz said, but leave it to Claude to do exactly that. He pulled the glove from his hand, skin caressing Lorenz's cheek as he pushed hair behind Lorenz's ear. Pale skin warmed as Lorenz narrowed his eyes — only to widen them in surprise when Claude caught him in a kiss. It was quick, chaste, and had the full effect of rendering the man speechless. "Thanks for the welcome," Claude chimed. "Now, how about we go get something to eat? I'm famished."
Folding his hands behind his head, Claude began his usual saunter toward the maiin entryway of House Gloucester, leaving Lorenz behind him to cover his fluster with a hand, gritting his teeth against a smile.
"Hard to believe it's been ten years since we were students, huh?" Claude was, of course, conversational as he bathed. Though it was nothing Lorenz had not seen before, he kept his back to the privacy screen that Claude splashed behind, reading a book without actually reading it. Without even trying, that fool of a man was being such a distraction.
"Indeed," Lorenz responded, because he knew if he didn't, Claude would be at least a litle concerned. "At least this time we won't be fighting some awful riffraff, either."
Probably.
Tensions postwar were still high, though Byleth was working hard to keep the peace across Fódlan from the seat of Archbishop. Just because someone was essentially the Goddess incarnate didn't mean things came easily. Often Lorenz found himself away from House Gloucester to assist across the other wartorn lands. Byleth may have been Archbishop, but not a noble — and as such, it was his sworn duty. Duty that Claude entrusted to him with full confidence.
"You going to be all in purple again?" Claude might have been talking before that, but of course the mention of Lorenz's color caught the man's attention.
"Are you suggesting something else?"
Dripping water was the only response. Claude had gotten out of the tub, and from the corner of his eye, Lorenz watched him approach with a towel around his waist. He immediately turned his attention back to the blurred lines of the book held precariously in his hand. "I think you'd look good in gold," Claude responded — the grin was loud in his words.
Of course, Lorenz scoffed. "Absolutely not," he said.
"Why not?" Glistening bronze arms locked around his shoulders as Claude embraced him. The rough stubble along his jawline scratched pleasantly against Lorenz's warming cheeks, despite the severe frown on his face. "Any other time, you'd have loved to wear it." Tapping his chin with a hum, Claude continued, "In fact, I can count on my hands all the times you—"
"Enough!" Lorenz snapped, feeling his patience wear thin. "You are dripping all over my tome — dry off and get dressed for dinner, will you?" It was hard and yet easy to shimmy his way out of the loose hold Claude had on his shoulders. The echo of Claude's chuckles behind him followed, and once more his hand met his face with a long-suffering sigh.
"Well? How do I look?"
"Do you really need to ask, Lorenz?"
"…humor me, Deerheart."
It was not too often that Lorenz lately could render the Almyran king speechless. He knew the nickname, which he came up with during the war and first spoke it before they traversed below into Shambhala, was a dagger to the heart. As such, it needed to only be used sparingly, lest it lose its potency. The flustered clearing of Claude's throat was satisfying.
"You forgot one thing."
"Impossible." Lorenz frowned. His hair was straightened and fragrant, his armor a familiar weight across his body, and even his eyeliner was perfectly curled despite years going without it.
"Of course you'd think so." But Claude stepped up in front of him. "But Lorenz, you're not you without the rose."
Startled, Lorenz looked down. He watched as careful — scarred, rough, burned from Failnaught — fingers attached the brooch with the shimmering rose over his breastbone. "Ah. You are right." Loathe as ever he was to admit it. "Thank you."
"No problem." Claude grinned, eyes twinkling. "Not as if no one would recognize you without it. But you wore it during school, too, after all." Neither of them pointed out just how often Lorenz lost the damn thing, to the point Byleth had to return it with a consternated frown. Lorenz took care after that to never lose it again; it had been that embarrassing.
"And it certainly has kept its color and pristine shape, no?" Lorenz chuckled, drawing his own finger against the curved, glossy petals. "Anyway—" His voice died in his throat immediately, when he finally took in the sight before him. "…what are you wearing?"
"Clothes," Claude chirped, folding his arms behind his head with a pursed-lip whistle. "I don't think you'd appreciate if I went naked."
The glare that Lorenz sent Claude's way would have killed the King on the spot were he not so used to it. "Unbelievable. Your House Leader uniform?" As Claude swayed, he saw the most garish, ghastly, terrible thing — the seams had burst around his chest, his arms, and the pants strained around his thighs. "Claude!"
"What?" Claude grinned. He had even coaxed some of his hair to the side of his face, braiding it like when he was but a starry eyed teenager in charge of a rowdy bunch of Deer. "It is a class reunion."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lorenz grit his teeth against a sigh. "Be that as it may," he grumbled, "it is far too small for you! Can you not see how it is tearing… ripping… House Leader or otherwise, you are a King. I do not know how they do it in Almyra —"
"Maybe you oughta come with me back home then."
" — but this is not…" Lorenz opened his eyes. "I beg your pardon?"
The fabric noisily ripped a little more as Claude relaxed his shoulders. "After this reunion. Why don't you come back to Almyra with me?" His expression lost the childish glee at pressing Lorenz's buttons, growing serious.
"I… I could not, and would not, abandon Fódlan like that."
"I'm not asking you to." Claude shook his head. He unclasped the Golden Deer brooch that held the yellow capelet over his shoulder. It was still a brilliant color, not worn down by time or war or eaten by moths. There were no bloodstains from the battles to defend Garreg Mach from Edelgard and her endless approaching army. Even the brooch itself was polished and shimmering. Claude took obviously good care of it. Lorenz startled when Claude wrapped it about his shoulders, clasping it just above his rose. "But I think it would be nice for you to visit from time to time."
Despite how he had desired to wear the House Leader gold all those years ago, Lorenz was quick to take the capelet off with a shake of the head. "Very well," he said, pushing the bundle back into Claude's hands. "Under one condition."
"What's that?"
"Dress appropriately, and behave yourself at the Monastery."
"Hmm." Claude puckered his lips in thought. "I don't know, Lorenz. That sounds like two conditions to me."
This time, Lorenz did not fight the smile on his lips as he rolled his eyes. "You are insufferable as ever, Claude von Riegan."
"I know," Claude laughed, beginning to carefully unbutton the coat over his yellow shirt. "But that's why you love me."
"Hm." Lorenz lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Certainly one reason, at least."