perfectteatime | Victory Road Inbox

"It's how I court." The answer is plain enough. He doesn't mind the inexperience, he's just happy to have this. Kissing him warmly and enjoying the contact and the solitude.

"Sorry, if it's too forward." He says at last, breaking it for a moment in lieu of cuddling up to him again. "I'm just very happy you accepted. I have wanted to do that since our days in the academy together."

After all, Dedue was a terribly romantic man, weather or not he realized it.

"Since even then?"

Of all the people that Dedue might have thought that Byleth's interest would fall upon, he would have placed himself quite low, especially during their days in the Academy. He did not do much to distinguish himself academically-- neither as casually brilliant as Sylvain, nor as obsessively studious as Annette-- and focused most of his energy on Dimitri. He certainly had far too much on his mind that year to even entertain things like crushes on attractive teachers. Or on anyone, for that matter.

And if he were to peg Byleth's interest on anyone, he would have bet Dimitri.

"It had always seemed to me as though your attention lay elsewhere."

"Since even then." He echoes with surety. He's settled into Dedue now, in a nice comfortable spot where he can lay his head on the man's chest. Ahh, perfection.

"My attention was reserved for yourself and Dimitri. I admit- I once dreamed of sharing my life with the both of you. As difficult as that would have been back in Fodlan. I dreamed of sleeping between you sometimes. How wonderful that would be." He sighs a bit, listening to the night sounds.

"That was before everything. Before I became the Archbishop that is. You two returned to Faerghus and... well. I thought that would be it. I was in a terrible way, honestly." for as stoic as he is, even Seteth had noticed a certain air of melancholy around him.

How strange, that he had missed something like that so completely. He didn't enjoy the idea that he might have had such massive blind spots-- it begged the question of what else he might have missed-- but, really, who could blame him for missing such a thing? The prospect of their respected professor being interested in the crown prince of Faerghus was entirely reasonable; the idea of him holding the same feelings for a common-blooded Dusci vassal? He would have deemed it silly. Not even fit for a fairy-tale.

"I was entirely unaware."

And the thought of Byleth being the Archbishop, one of the most powerful people in Fodlan, and still harboring such feelings. It would be unbelievable if he wasn't sitting here with Byleth, hearing it for himself.

"I do not know what happens in the future," he says, "but I know myself well enough. I do not think that my heart could bear being separated from Dimitri, but it would be little easier to be separated from you, either."

Byleth's head is a warm, pleasant weight on his chest. As with most people, his frame feels small in Dedue's arms.

"After I had rescued Dimitri and I was recovering with my kin, I thought of you often."

This feels so wonderful. It's odd to say he feels 'safe', given he placed himself in the role of protector more often than not, but letting go for just a moment is a lovely thing.

"I don't think I'd ever want to separate you from Dimitri. You two go together. Like- tea and biscuits. Not to be taken individually." He muses, snuggling deeper into those encircling arms.

"Really? What- what sort of things did you think about me?" Likely, about his apparent death, though they had both thought each other dead at that point, hadn't they? He squeezes tighter at the memory.

"Your disappearance was... difficult, for all of us," he says. Byleth seems to try to burrow deeper into his arms, so Dedue adjusts his grip to hold him more securely.

"While I was recovering, I thought quite fondly of our time in the greenhouse, or when you had invited me for tea."

Byleth had been one of the very few at Garreg Mach who would spend more time with Dedue than they had to; him, and some of the Blue Lions, and perhaps Flayn. In the first few months that he had been recovering, he was with his kin, but they were still strangers to him-- it was a lonely time. Thinking of those friends that he had once had, even if there weren't many of them, was a small comfort.

"I wished that I could ask you for advice once more, to know if I had done the right thing."

He knew that saving Dimitri would always be the right thing to do-- there could never have been any other course of action for him-- but whether or not staying with his kin for as long as he did was correct is an argument that he'd had with himself again and again. Perhaps he should have left earlier, even to the detriment of his wounds, if it meant having a hope of finding Dimitri before he had sunk so deeply into his madness.

Edited 2022-11-14 05:06 (UTC)

Byleth takes one of his hands, turning it over in his own and tracing the lines on his palm.

"I think you did, for what it's worth. We all did the best we could." A kiss is pressed to his fingertips. It will never cease to be amazing, to be given this kind of affection. It's beautiful and so much softer than most of the things he's had in his life. He's fallen rather easily into giving this casual kind of affection. Maybe one of those things he's naturally good at. He likes to think that at least. He'd rather be regarded as a love bug than a demon any day.

"I missed you a lot, too. Especially after the war when things were so quiet and you left with Dimitri." He huffs an amused sound, "I thought I'd chase you both to Faerghus."

We all did the best we could. Dedue hopes that is the case, but it's hard to dispel the part of him that thinks that he could have done more. That he had failed Dimitri in his weakness. If he had been a stronger man-- a sturdier shield-- they might have escaped together, and Dimitri could have been steered from his dark path. How much suffering might have been avoided if Dedue had only still been at Dimitri's side?

Byleth touches him gently while he mulls over that, kisses him with tenderness. Dedue finds himself quite fond of this affectionate and cuddly Professor, a side of him that he hadn't shown before.

"You would have been welcomed," he says. "Dimitri would never have denied you or turned you away. Nor would have I."

For what little hospitality he could have offered as a mere vassal.

"It's a comfort to hear that. I admit... I felt quite lost as archbishop. The lions... you were my family. What I had after I lost Jeralt. It's funny how much you all often said you relied on me, but in truth, I felt that it was quite the opposite."

Not that Byleth ever voiced such things, or really expressed much at all in that way. Now it comes much easier, just as being affectionate does. He's come to love the feeling of being close to people. Dedue's warmth is nothing short of perfection. Unlike the rest of the residents from Fodlan, Byleth is absolutely not shy about expressing his appreciation.

"Dedue, I really adore you. I couldn't have asked for a better day, or a better gift."

"I am certain that the others feel the same. You are important to all of us, Byleth."

The Lions, odd little group that they were, had been a close-knit bunch, and Byleth had certainly gotten tangled up in the middle. Dedue had always thought of himself as less integral to the group, in part because of his own attempts at keeping the rest of them at a distance for their own good. But Byleth? Their beloved professor? He was an integral part of them. He could have gone to any of the Lions, even after the war, and would have been welcomed into their homes and lives with open arms.

Dedue is glad to be one of those people who welcomes him home. To be open arms that he could rest in.

"And I, you. I am glad to have brought you joy."

A moment's boldness-- he presses a kiss to Byleth's temple.

Likewise, Byleth adores the idea of being someone who can bring Dedue comfort. How hard it must be to be a man so reserved, so physically strong, and so seldom understood by those around him in his life outside of the select few. All of those things amount to the perception that he would not need to be help and comforted, to be spoken to in soft tones and have a hand sooth his back.

He hopes he can provide such comfort, because undoubtedly, Dedue does bring him joy. What he has come to identify as joy. In his weird and quiet little way, Byleth is bursting with it.

He returns the kiss pressed to his temple to Dedue's lips again before settling down to watch the stars with him, and enjoy the warmth of their hands pressed together.

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