bakerstreet | Let the water rush over you.

[There's something strangely satisfying about the fact that Sylvain's just as shameless about ogling him half undressed as he is about doing the same to... well anyone else. As much as the others give him shit for it there's equality in Sylvain's endless bawdiness that Claude can appreciate.]

Well, I know a few other effects you can get from mixing this with water so uh... just make sure you don't swallow any of that, yeah?

[Not that it'll do much for him but most people don't spend their early lives routinely poisoning themselves to build up tolerances.

He does step away so he can fold his pants on top of the stack of his clothes, one moment's hesitation before he considers the horror of riding a horse in wet shorts and those get added to the stack. Claude is absolutely expecting some kind of catcall from Sylvain when he comes back around to pick his way over the rocky edge of the pool.

Thankfully it doesn't seem like it's too deep. It would be horribly embarrassing to have to admit that he... well he can keep himself above water. Mostly. But it would definitely be a stretch to call it swimming. It wasn't as though Almyra had much in the way of large bodies of water.]

[He is an equal opportunity lech. Much as people try to downplay or ignore his unhidden interest in anyone but women. Ah, Fodlan.

Sylvain laughs at that.]

You say that like the first thing my father taught me about the hot springs was "don't drink it".

[Still chuckling, he does actually turn around to give Claude the illusion of privacy as he finishes stripping, instead sinking down into the water up to his shoulders with a contented sigh. There do seem to be layered areas of rock where it's easy enough to stand, or lean back, or even sit down if you find a good spot. The water isn't too hard to see down into to search for natural benches, either, even considering the mineral content.

When Claude appears again in his periphery he does wink, though.]

Hey gorgeous, come here often?

[There it is.]

[As expected.

Claude makes a show of stretching out in the soothing, warm water. Lacing his fingers together and stretching his arms over head, knuckles popping, before he just lets himself fall back slowly, trusting the water to catch him.]

Might hafta start. [A quiet groan but he can't loosen up enough to just let himself float. He doesn't trust the water that much. So he just slides around past Sylvain to a low shelf that he can perch on and lounge back against the warm stones. His smile turns a sly as he glances aside at the redhead.]

You wouldn't mind that, would you Sylvain?

[If Claude is going to make a show of stretching, Sylvain isn't going to bother hiding that he's admiring. The combination of archery and wyvern riding makes for some very attractive muscles, and Sylvain doesn't shy away from lingering on Claude's arms and shoulders. Alas his thighs are hidden by the water somewhat, and Sylvain doesn't want to look too salacious.

A toothy grin spreads across his face and he chuckles.]

I would love to see you around Gautier more often. If it's the hot springs that draw you back, then that's good by me.

[His tone is casual, clearly aware that Claude is calling him out a little, but the glint in his eyes is still very much present. There's a moment of silence, Sylvain just rolling his shoulders and stretching. Then he adds,]

You know what really makes the soak relaxing is getting a massage with it.

[There's a moment there, carefully assessing. If it's the hot springs... As though there was any chance something so trivial would bring him back to such a harsh snowy land. If he returns it would be because of his friend but he's well aware that sometimes Sylvain's mind isn't quite as certain of such things as it should be.

The teasing, the playfulness is all well and good so long as those little quips don't go too deep. And then he goes and mentions a massage and Claude briefly feels silly for worrying, huffing a laugh and shaking his head. But he still doesn't exactly discourage him.]

Is that so? [An exaggerated gasp as though something had only just occurred to him, faux shock and horror, hand coming up to his chest in a very good impersonation of an utterly scandalized Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.]

Why! Sylvain Gautier! You didn't invite me all the way up here to get your hands on me, did you?

[He barely holds it long enough to get the question out before he crumples in a fit of laughter.]

[It isn't really that Sylvain doubts that Claude is his friend- he has long since had time to get used to that. It's more that men of Faerghus are absolutely allergic to admitting being so emotional directly. It simply isn't in their blood or culture. It's almost as if Sylvain might jinx this weird truth that Claude actually likes him by pointing it out. He's lost too many other friends to risk it.

[The little risk of his flirt pays off, and Sylvain feels a grin on his face as Claude laughs and shakes his head at him. He leaves doubts behind for a bit of smugness instead. He spreads his hands up and out of the water in a gesture of defeat, contrasting with the smug smile on his face.]

Not just.

[Claude may be laughing like it's a joke, but that makes it all the easier for Sylvain to be quite honest, trying to slip it under the radar as part of the joke.

[The day Claude can make fun of Lorenz, even when he's not around, and not crack up is the day the sun goes dark. He does manage to rein himself in relatively quickly, though, grinning at that little gesture of surrender.]

Well after all this time on a horse I think I deserve a massage.

[So there. You made the offer Sylvain, now you're making good on it. Claude looks around for a moment, finally deciding on a ledge that looks likely to be sturdy enough and high enough. Dragging himself out of the water is chilling but once he lays himself out on the shelf in question, arms folded beneath his head to keep his face above the water, it's not so bad.

And then he looks over to Sylvain, cocking a brow. Well? What are you waiting for?]

What did my poor little gelding ever do to you?

[He teases at the complaining, but his eyes betray his true lack of offense.

He's more than willing to make good on the offer, but he hand't quite expected Claude to take it so... thoroughly. Scooting over in the water for a little shoulder and neck rub maybe, but no. Of course Claude can't do anything halfway, he has to climb all the way out of the water and lay himself out on some stone that's very shallowly covered.

He feels a tightening in his chest at the way Claude raises his eyebrow like that, and covers up whatever expression he might make by shaking his head. He approaches, finding a place to stand where he can reach Claude comfortably, which of course means that most of his top half is out of the water, the water barely coming up over his hips. His hands are still very warm from the spring as he rests palms on Claude's back, sliding them up to his shoulders slowly.]

[Maybe he's pushing, just a little, seeing where precisely Sylvain's limits are. How far is just joking and where does it become something else. He half expects Sylvain to bow out, admit defeat and step down from that little challenge. There's a flicker of it, or something like it, in his face before he shakes his head but it's too fleeting for Claude to really assess.

In the end Sylvain moves closer to him, edges his way out of the water, hands so very warm. It's hardly where he'd expected to be but the slow, firm touch over his shoulders, tight and strained as always, pulls a sigh from Claude. His eyes flutter closed, the next breath coming out with a low, pleased little hum as he melts against the warm stone.

Okay so... it may have started as a joke but he is definitely not going to complain if Sylvain keeps going.]

[Sylvain needs that pushing, though. He needs people around him who will nudge him out of his comfort zone and force him to do something other than avoid emotions and attachment. He's already been dragged out of his comfort zone by their nosy professor and the disarming nature of the Golden Deer, but Claude takes the cake.

He enjoys the sigh that Claude makes, listens as it echoes around the cave. It's always a strange feeling, realizing he's caused someone to relax, especially someone as paranoid as Claude.

So Sylvain pushes a little himself, digging his thumbs in at the base of Claude's neck and working down his spine, spreading outward toward his shoulderblades. Will he let Sylvain keep going? The idea that he might sends a thrill through Sylvain that almost embarrasses him. Almost.]

[If nothing else, tucked away in the mountains like this, somewhere so remote he's reasonably sure he can let his guard down at least a little. Besides, Sylvain is the only one here and they'd have plenty of warning before anyone else could surprise them.

The fighting is done, though. He doesn't have to defend his walls as fiercely now. In another month he won't even be here. It doesn't matter what others think of him anymore. That's all on Teach. Let them carry that burden... he's content to take a couple weeks to relax before he goes straight back to a far more deadly viper pit than the Alliance Roundtable.

Not that he'd have much of a choice when Sylvain's hands seek out the tightest places in his neck and shoulders so readily. The first press of his thumbs into his neck startles a breathy little "oh" out of him, something that bleeds into a groan, toeing the line between pained and satisfied. It definitely hurts a little but it also feels so good. As soon as Sylvain spreads the pressure from just his thumbs out a little wider all the breath rushes out of him and Claude turns his head to look over at the redhead, or as close as he can without moving.]

You didn't tell me you actually knew what you were doing.

[Sylvain laughs, a bit breathy himself. Much as his actions and reputation paint him as a selfish slut who doesn't seem to care about anyone else, Sylvain gets his best pleasure from making other people feel good. Even a purely innocent and platonic massage would hit that button, and this is not entirely platonic. At least not on Sylvain's side of things.]

Your fault for assuming.

[To his credit he manages not to let his eyes just slide right down to Claude's ass. He does let himself admire the shape of the archer's shoulders, the strength there and the rich tone of his skin. Sylvain has never felt especially pale, and not in comparison to Dimitri and Felix, but compared to Claude his hands look snow white. The thought makes him smile.]

You need some serious rest after everything you've accomplished, anyway.

[Sincerity has him feeling shy, so if Claude tries to meet his eyes, he will be looking away.]

[Claude hums again, agreement and satisfaction. He's right. He shouldn't have assumed. The more Sylvain works on his shoulders the more delightfully pliant he becomes under those clever hands. Eventually he drops one hand down to his side, giving Sylvain more room to work over his shoulder, his upper back, wherever he wanted to go.]

We accomplished. [A half slurred mumble between little groans and sighs.] Wasn just me, Sylvain.

It was all of us. [He finally lifts his head at that, shifting a little so he can at least try to look up at Sylvain. He looks a mess, dark curls wet and clinging to his face, those brilliant green eyes hazy, a lazy sort of curiosity instead of the usual high alert.] We're both supposed to be relaxing here...

[Ah, Sylvain is extra glad he chose to not be looking at Claude's face. Of course he'd come out with the gratitude right as he's getting all soft and relaxed under Sylvain's hands. Right as soon as Sylvain is starting to let his guard down in return! He ignores the warmth in his face that he's sure is a blush and just shrugs a shoulder.]

Don't worry about me, your grace, I'm having a fantastic time.

[Not a lie; he really is enjoying himself getting the famously paranoid Claude to relax, but he can't help but slip the honorific in, trying in a futile effort to keep Claude at arm's length, on the pedestal of authority.]

[He never thought he'd see the day. Sylvain Jose Gautier... blushing. Not flushed from battle or Fates know what in some darkened alcove of the monastery but actually blushing. ]

Hmph- You've watched me on a horse all morning. Nothing graceful about it, Margrave.

[Two can play that game, Sylvain, and he's pretty sure taking up the Gautier title will be far more unsettling than the titles he's acquired over the years.]

[Futile indeed. Though Claude's return sass does break the vulnerability of the moment. Sylvain gently slaps Claude's lower back in protest. It makes a much greater sound than it causes any pain, though.]

That's General Gautier to you, mister leader man.

[The slap may be gentle but, between the water warming his skin and the sensitivity brought by Sylvain's hard work, it's still enough to make Claude jump a little, sucking in a sharp, startled gasp. He flashes a brief flicker of a sheepish smile at the redhead, a faint blush coloring his own cheeks now.]

Oh~ My sincerest apologies, General~

[All playful and teasing saccharine sweetness even as he drags his arm up to roll up onto his side, supporting himself on one elbow, smirking a challenge up at Sylvain.]

Whatever can I do to make it up to you, General Gautier~?

[Stupid ~~sexy~~ sassy Claude! Sylvain heaves a put-upon sigh, though the blush on Claude's face now makes it much more difficult to maintain his neutral expression.

The opening is so wide, clearly inviting Sylvain to say something suggestive, but he falters. Normally that wouldn't be an issue at all, but the moment seems a bit too close to sincere, even with Claude being a snarky little shit.

It doesn't help that Claude is completely naked and very much ripe for the ogling. That chest has filled out since their academy days.]

Never call me 'Margrave' ever again.

[He's all challenging grin and... yes shifting like that so he can look up at Sylvain does rather put him on display, doesn't it? It says something about how relaxed he actually is that he doesn't remember to be self-conscious of it for a moment. Both the deeper color of his skin but also the rather significant amount of dark hair covering his chest... and arms... and stomach... and look he's a rather hairy man. Which is not a terribly common thing in Fodlan. Yet another reason he keeps himself so carefully covered at all times.

But the response he gets from Sylvain has jade eyes darkening a little, that sly smile softening to something apologetic and he moves to sit up properly now. One hand reaches out to curl around Sylvain's arm, meant to be reassuring as he strokes his thumb lightly over the curve of muscle.]

You got it. Never again. [His lips quirk back up though, sincere but trying to lighten the weight of the redhead's family. Gods but he knows how hard it is to shoulder all that came before you.] We can talk to Teach, make you some sorta Duke or something. Maybe an Earl? Earl Gautier? Sounds like a damn tea blend.

[Claude softens to something genuine and supportive and Sylvain is nearly overcome with guilt. So much for either of them relaxing, good going, genius. He leans back against Claude, unable to deny himself physical comfort even when he feels guilty. He lifts a hand to press it to Claude's (rather hairy) chest, right above his heart.]

Hey, don't take me so seriously.

[His eyes are full of appreciation at the suggestion, though.]

Well, Fraldarius is a duchy and that's right next door, so Earl could work. Or maybe Baron Gautier. Count Gautier?

[His smile is small but more genuine.]

You know I sort of had the wild dream that I might be able to hand Gautier off to someone else, and act as an ambassador for you and the professor, see other parts of the world.

[Claude opened up that possibility of a completely different future than the one he always believed he had to live, and he can never express how grateful he is for that.]

[Sylvain's hand settles on his chest and Claude draws in a deeper breath, chest expanding with it to press back into that touch. Something in his gaze goes soft and hopeful, something that could maybe even be called yearning, but it's gone in a blink back to the same soft humor.]

Baron Gautier that certainly sounds impressive, doesn't it?

[Ah but then Sylvain follows up with something that is both painful and thrilling. The very idea that a member of Fodlish nobility would be so eager to see other places, to travel and explore and learn. It's everything he wanted. But in the same breath that reliance on him... Sylvain, you idiot. Ask Teach. Don't look to him now, the war is done and he has nothing left to give Fodlan anymore.]

That... is a really good goal. Might have to see what can be worked out with the Srengi first, though.

[It's accurate, even if he doesn't like it... even if he won't be around to enforce it.]

[Any plans Sylvain might have had to take his hand back disappear with the way Claude practically pushes against the touch. Goddess knows so many of their friends aren't half so comfortable with casual touch as the two of them are, and Sylvain has a feeling he and Claude are the same in their starvation for that kind of affection. He leans a little bit more against Claude.]

It does. Still sounds kind of stuffy but I think all noble titles do.

[Pardon him for thinking that the new Unification King might stick around and actually lead the continent he just unified!!! Not that Sylvain hasn't seen the signs of Claude slowly distancing himself. He just chooses to ignore them because the alternative is too uncomfortable to face.]

Yeah, we... we owe them a lot of generosity. [He sighs and rubs his face.] I will have a lot of work to do, changing the attitudes of people in Gautier about anyone across the Fodlan border. I'm charming, but I don't know if I'm charming enough to manage that kind of miracle.

[Stuffy was an understatement. What would Sylvain think of his title? If he could even pronounce it. It surprises him how much he misses hearing Almyran regularly, how much it's hurt that Cyril hates their homeland so much. He loves so many of the people here but, by the Stars, he misses home.

Probably even more than he's ever known to miss the kind of solid, affectionate touch that the redhead gives him now. Warm and firm and for a fleeting moment he worries that it's not going to be Sylvain that finally crosses that line but himself instead. His free hand slides up to rest over Sylvain's trapping it against his chest, the fingers around his arm curling just a little tighter.

But he has to leave. There is no choice for that anymore. Pulling the other man any closer would be a cruelty that he can't bear, no matter how much he might want to in this moment.]

If anyone can manage a miracle on charm alone it's you. [Smile still sly, gaze sinking into that distant ache once again. He needs to let go, get those careful walls back into place again. He wants to pull Sylvain down against him. Hold him close and take comfort in his touch.

A luxury he can't afford.]

[Sylvain would probably laugh about having a type, if he knew Claude's title. Not that he's half so close to admitting his old, aching love for his childhood friends as he is to doing something he would probably regret with Claude right in this moment.

He feels a heavy gravity trying to pull him in, along with the way Claude's hand tightens on his arm. It starts to hurt, keeping his distance and fighting against the urges to touch, to lean in. To be something more to Claude than is fair to either of them. He breathes out a puff of laughter and turns just a little bit so that he's facing Claude head-on.]

You think so?

[He doesn't fight the pull, he leans just a little until his forehead touches against Claude's.]

I would have said you're the most likely candidate for that honor.

[Sylvain's forehead touches his and he immediately responds to it, tilting his head, nuzzling up against him like some great cat. He arches this time, not just a breath but actually pushing his chest out for that touch. The hand at Sylvain's arm drifts up over his shoulder, his collar, fingers brushing feather-light and hesitant against the side of his neck.]

Sylvain....

[Strained with emotions he cannot completely hide, not now, not like this. Heavy and hoarse with the weight of so many things he needs to say but cannot.

Gods, he knew this was coming, knew as soon as the redhead laid hands on him that he would crumble beneath skilled touches and words every bit as cautiously false as his own even as his eyes spoke of the same desperate loneliness he had felt all his life.

It's a bad idea. Terrible. It will only hurt them both. But Claude's other hand lifts as well, fingers settling lightly at Sylvain's hip, thumb brushing over the knot of ruinous scar tissue there.]

.... Sylvain...

Let the water rush over you.

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peeks out from under my schoolwork

Good luck!

ty ;; being hcp is suffering

And then I got sucked into a new game oops

i know the feel

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sorry... october killed me ded

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