Work Text:
Sylvain is two months and one frozen laptop into his new job when he's made to take his first trip to IT.
He knocks twice, then pushes the door to the office open a crack. "Hey, sorry to bother you. Have you got a sec?"
The IT guy looks up from his monitor. His gaze lands on Sylvain's face, and Sylvain's first thought is that he's fucking pretty. Sharp features, eyebrow piercing, long dark hair held back from his face.
"Yes," he says, with maybe the least enthusiasm Sylvain has ever been on the receiving end of.
Sylvain's next, more irrational thought is this: I'm in love. He has to remind himself that he's here for a reason, and an important one at that.
"My laptop's totally frozen," Sylvain says, and finds himself defaulting to his usual smile; relatable, if not slightly self-effacing. "Could you take a look?"
The guy outstretches a hand. His expression, behind a pair of thin, rectangular glasses, is flat and bored. It makes Sylvain feel a little warm as he hands his laptop over.
"This shouldn't take long," the guy says. Then, after a pause, "You can sit."
Sylvain takes the only other seat, next to him. He sweeps a look over the guy's desk: there's a few trinkets, a pair of expensive-looking headphones, and the guy's ID card. Felix Fraldarius, Systems Manager.
"I'm Sylvain, by the way," Sylvain offers, to fill the silence which has fallen between them. "I started a couple months back."
"I know," Felix mumbles, without looking away from the screen. "I added you to the system."
Sylvain waits for Felix to introduce himself in return, to no avail. Instead Felix continues to work without speaking, one leg bent and held against his chest.
There's little else for Sylvain to do but watch. Not wanting to stare, he keeps his eyes mostly on Felix's hands, moving gracefully across the keyboard. He lifts one to sweep his bangs back; Sylvain watches more of his face come into view with something like fascination.
After some time, Felix closes the lid of Sylvain's laptop with a click. It pulls Sylvain from his reverie. "Should be sorted."
"You're a lifesaver. What was the problem?"
Felix turns to hand the laptop back. They make brief eye contact; Felix's eyes flick onto Sylvain's face and then away.
"You haven't shut it down in three weeks," Felix answers flatly.
Ah. "That'll do it, huh?" Sylvain offers sheepishly.
Felix makes a noncommittal sound. He seems moderately unimpressed when he adds, "You should be turning it off at least once every few days. I wouldn't expect you to come to work if you hadn't slept for three weeks."
Neither of Sylvain's usual responses to being reprimanded kick in. Where he might usually feel ashamed, or pissed off, he instead thinks he might be blushing.
"Got it, boss," he says. "Thanks for your help."
Sylvain's halfway to the door when Felix says, "Call me Felix." Sylvain turns to find him looking shy about it, maybe. "I'm not your boss."
"Sure thing." Sylvain feels that he's smiling a little. "See you around, Felix."
Felix, turned back to his monitor, waves Sylvain off without looking up.
+
Following their brief meeting, Sylvain thinks about Felix a potentially unhealthy amount. He asks around some of his coworkers and gets the same sentiment, generally: Felix is hardworking, efficient, but also asocial and pretty aloof.
("And hot," Dorothea adds, when Sylvain asks for her opinion.
"So hot," Sylvain agrees solemnly. He leans across their lunch table to ask, quietly, "Do you know if he likes men?"
"Babe." Dorothea smiles around a forkful of her Greek salad. "He doesn't seem to like anyone.")
Come the end of the week, Sylvain winds up with a suspicious email in his inbox—one asking for his login details, from a random, misspelt address.
He's not so stupid he doesn't realise it's a scam. He is stupid enough, however, to briefly consider clicking on it, just to have an excuse to talk to Felix.
Ultimately, he decides causing a major security breach probably won't make a great second impression. Instead he finds himself back in the IT office, showing Felix the offending email with all the confidence of a child at show and tell.
"It's a phishing email," Sylvain says, pointing to the from address. "The address is misspelt, see?"
Felix is silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. "Very astute," he says eventually, and the sheer amount of sarcasm packed into those two words makes Sylvain's whole body flush. "You came here just to show me this?"
Sylvain nods. Felix's eyes narrow, like he can't decide if Sylvain is especially conscientious, or a moron, or both.
"You could've forwarded this to me. Or just ignored it."
Sylvain shrugs, scratches at the back of his neck bashfully. "I thought it might be important. For, you know. Your work."
Incredulity takes over Felix's features for a flash, before he tries—poorly—to school his expression into something more neutral.
"Thank you for your vigilance," he says dryly.
"Don't worry about it," Sylvain offers, though he doesn't think Felix needs to be told this twice.
Felix doesn't even try to hide his bewilderment as Sylvain retreats; laptop tucked under his arm, face hot.
He stops outside Felix's office to scrub a hand over his face and sigh. He can't remember the last time, if ever, a crush made him feel like this much of a loser.
+
The following week, a Teams message from Felix catches Sylvain so off guard that he nearly spills tea all over his laptop. Some fucking IT issue that would've been, he thinks with some scorn, as he sets his mug down on his desk.
His pulse is off at an embarrassing speed when he opens the message up. It says: hey, need to perform some remote maintenance on your laptop. are you free
Sylvain freaks out briefly. He's working from home today, basically in his pyjamas: a pair of sweats and his cosiest hoodie. Probably he looks a mess, but actually going to change feels a step too far, and he figures Felix isn't the kind of person to take kindly to being left on read.
After a moment of deliberation, he replies: Sure! Felix calls almost immediately.
"Hey," he says when Sylvain answers, a touch awkward. "Sorry if you were busy."
"It's all good," Sylvain checks his reflection in the box at the corner of his screen and winces. "You need to do maintenance?" He tries to subtly muss his hair into something less reminiscent of a bird's nest. "I promise I've been shutting it off, like you said."
Felix's mouth ticks up in one corner. His amusement seems to come with a dry sort of edge, which Sylvain can't help but find attractive. "It's just routine. Won't take long."
"All yours, then," Sylvain says.
As usual, Felix works in silence. His—office? bedroom?—is pretty fucking cool, from what Sylvain can make out in his background: there's a tall bookshelf of video games and manga behind him, and a couple of framed prints on his wall.
Sylvain considers asking about them, but figures he shouldn't interrupt. Felix's eyebrows are furrowed slightly in concentration and his bottom lip is caught absently between his teeth. He looks cute, engrossed in his work—until there's a shuffling on his end, and his head jerks to the side.
"Samus, don't—" He cuts himself off with a huff as a blur of black shoots across the bottom of his screen.
"Aw!" Sylvain exclaims, when a cat comes into frame. "Hey, cutie."
The cat noses at the camera. Felix sighs, scoops it up and sets it back down in his lap.
Fuck if Sylvain isn't endeared. "How long have you had them?"
"Had her a few years," Felix says, scratching her behind the ears fondly. "She's a pain in the ass."
Samus bumps her head impatiently against Felix's chin. He leans down briefly to let her rub her nose against his, which leaves Sylvain feeling genuinely wounded.
"Oh my God." He lays a palm over his heart. "She gave you a kiss. I'm actually gonna die."
Felix scoffs, not unkindly, and straightens up. With the movement, Samus leaps out of frame.
"Don't let her fool you," he says, watching her scamper off. "She's probably gone to take a shit in my living room."
This surprises an embarrassingly loud laugh out of Sylvain; in turn, Felix looks pleased. He's smiling a little as he turns his attention back to the screen. "I'm done, by the way. Sorry to have taken up some of your time."
"You're fine," Sylvain says. "It's nice to like, talk to another person when I'm working from home."
Something intrigued in Felix's expression. "It's just you, then?"
"Just me," Sylvian confirms.
"Hm." Sylvain is trying very hard not to read into the question when Felix adds, "I'll let you go, anyway."
"Sure," Sylvain says, feeling unreasonably bashful. "See you, Felix."
Felix offers an awkward little wave, then hangs up. What Sylvain's left with is his own reflection: vaguely pink-cheeked, grinning like a idiot.
+
Sylvain's most of the way through an intense day of meetings when he reaches an unbearable level of tiredness. It's been a long, busy week; draining enough that he'd opted for his glasses over contacts this morning, to lessen the strain on his eyes. Even that hasn't seemed to help, though, which leaves him with only one option: caffeine.
The coffee at work is famously shit. Sylvain doesn't drink it often—so he's not sure if Felix is usually in the kitchen at this time of day, or if finding him here is a happy coincidence.
He nods in acknowledgement when Sylvain enters the room. He's leaning against the counter with a mug in both hands, looking about as bored and as gorgeous as usual.
"Hey," Sylvain says. "Long day for you too?"
Felix makes a sound of agreement over the rim of his mug. He does seem a little more tired than usual; there's a heavy-lidded, almost feline air about him. It's sweet.
While the machine dribbles dubious looking coffee into Sylvain's cup, he pushes his glasses up briefly to rub at his eyes. God, he's fucking exhausted. He'll be lucky if the caffeine can even take the edge off.
His frames are back in place when Felix says, "I didn't know you wore glasses."
Sylvain blinks, surprised. He didn't know Felix noticed anything about him at all.
He touches a hand to his face, maybe self-consciously. "Oh, yeah. I usually wear contacts at work, but my eyes are really feeling it this week."
Felix looks, and Sylvain's face grows faintly warm. There's something a little intense about the flavour of his attention.
"They suit you," he says after a moment.
Sylvain huffs a laugh, out of nerves more than anything. "I dunno," he says, the deflection coming automatically. "Not everyone can look as good in them as you do."
It takes Felix's eyebrows lifting marginally for Sylvain to comprehend what he's just said.
"I, uh—" Fucking hell. Felix takes a slow sip of his coffee, looking very much like he's enjoying Sylvain's floundering. "Yours suit you, as well. Is what I mean to say."
"Sure," Felix says, with something like amusement beneath the surface his usual nonchalance.
"Anyway," Sylvain clears his throat. He obviously can't be trusted around Felix today—his lack of sleep and Felix's presence have rendered him stupid. "I should probably get back to it."
He's a few steps across the room, wondering how long it will take him to find a new job, when Felix says his name.
He turns to find Felix smiling proper, teeth and all. It's fucking devastating, frankly: the flash of Felix's canines; the pleased, almost smug undercurrent to his expression.
"Your coffee," Felix says.
At the mouth of the machine, Sylvain's cup sits abandoned. He lets out a rueful little laugh. "Right." Some of Sylvain's coffee spills over, with the speed at which he retrieves it. "I must be really tired."
"Must be," Felix repeats. His smile hasn't waned, and is maybe a little knowing. "See you around, Sylvain."
Back at his desk, all Sylvain can do is put his face in his hands and groan.
+
End of the week. Sylvain's jogging for the elevator, feeling like an idiot about it, when a single Doc Marten appears between the closing doors.
The doors part with the intrusion. Inside, Felix's leg is kicked higher than Sylvain would've thought was humanly possible, and seemingly without effort.
He's wearing his hair differently today, in a ponytail rather than his usual bun. It swings behind him when he plants his foot down and steps to one side, making room for Sylvain to enter.
Sylvain slips inside with a huff of embarrassed laughter. "Thanks," he says, and then, because he can't help it, "You're pretty flexible, huh?"
The corner of Felix's mouth lifts. "Martial arts," he says by way of explanation.
"Awesome," Sylvain offers weakly. As if he didn't fancy Felix enough without also knowing Felix could kick the shit out of him.
As the elevator descends, Sylvain turns to sneak another look and finds Felix already looking at him. His expression is warm, almost challenging. Sylvain offers a sheepish smile to have been caught.
The doors open and Sylvian gestures to let Felix head out first. Felix smirks, like this amuses him, and they fall into step on a path to the train station.
It's a nice evening. The sky is just starting to darken, and the air is clear and cool. In Sylvain's periphery, Felix is a contrast to both of these things, bright and warm as a flame. His ponytail continues to swish with each of his steps. Sylvain probably couldn't say what about it he finds it so charming.
"I like what you've done with your hair," he says. Emboldened by the setting, and by the fact Felix has chosen to walk with him.
Felix has to look up a little to meet Sylvain's eye. He adjusts his glasses to account for it; they catch light from the road, reflections of headlights rolling past.
"Thanks," he says, in that deadpan way of his, though he's visibly pleased. "Yours has gotten longer, too."
"Yeah," Sylvain combs his fingers through his bangs. It makes his face warm, to have Felix notice something about him again. "I haven't had the time to get it cut lately."
"Mm," Felix says. He considers Sylvain for a moment, then looks forward again. "It's nice."
Sylvain's glad Felix isn't looking anymore, to see how flustered he is. "Thank you."
They come to a stop in the middle of the station, facing each other. Commuters flow in waves either side of them. There's a pause: one long enough for Sylvain to consider, maybe wishfully, that Felix might also be reluctant to let this moment end.
Then Felix points with a tilt of his head toward his platform. "This is me."
"Ah," Sylvain's heart sinks, just a little. "I'm headed the other way."
Felix nods. He adjusts the collar of his jacket absently—it draws Sylvain's attention to his neck, his sharp collarbone, stark against the black of his clothes. "Guess I'll see you, then."
Something tugs through Sylvain as he watches Felix turn away. Longing, maybe. It spurs in him a moment of what could be either bravery or stupidity.
"Actually—Felix?"
Felix has only taken a few steps. He stops, turns to face Sylvain with what seems to be expectation. Even at the heart of a busy station, with so many people rushing around them, he's all Sylvain can focus on.
Sylvain swallows. "I wanted to ask. Would you maybe want to grab a drink sometime?"
Felix is silent for a beat. "You're asking me out," he surmises.
"Yeah." Sylvain brings a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. Jesus—when was the last time he was this nervous? "I, uh, kind of have a huge crush on you, to be honest."
Felix's mouth curves up at that. "I figured," he says. "You're not very subtle."
"Ah." Sylvain dips his head to huff a self-effacing laugh. Subtlety never was one of his strong suits. "Well, that's totally embarrassing. I hope I've not made you uncomfortable."
"You haven't," Felix says. When Sylvain looks up he's standing closer than before, palm outstretched. "Pass me your phone."
Sylvain breaks out into a grin as he abides, useless against his own ebullience. It's worse when Felix hands the phone back, open on a new contact: Felix Fraldarius, government name, businesslike. Sylvain almost laughs. It's exactly what he'd expect from Felix, and it's stupidly endearing.
"Okay," Sylvain says, and tucks his phone away. He's still smiling like a fool. "Cool."
"Cool," Felix repeats.
He hesitates, then he leans up to kiss Sylvain. A quick, chaste press of his mouth; so brief that Sylvain barely has time to register it.
It seems to catch both of them by surprise. Sylvain is wide-eyed and flushed when Felix pulls away.
Felix averts his eyes shyly. "Bye, Sylvain," he mumbles, and starts towards his platform.
It takes Sylvain a moment to recover fully. Once he does, he calls out to Felix, loud enough to attract the attention of a few people around him: "I'll text you!"
Felix answers without turning. "Good," he says, and only that, but Sylvain can hear the smile in his voice.