#claudvain

"Checkmate." Sylvain could hear Claude's grin as he moved his remaining knight towards his finishing blow.

He sighed as he realized his mistake. In his previous turn, Sylvain had moved his king to a space where as long as Claude moved one of his knights, he could eliminate it with either said knight or his queen. He had been so focused on avoiding Claude's remaining bishop, he had failed to notice the trap waiting for him. As frustrating as it was to lose in such a manner, Sylvain couldn't be mad; there was nothing that screamed Claude like escaping from one scheme, only to fall into another. For that matter, out of any of Claude's schemes, his chess ones were the least consequential; throughout the course of the war, Sylvain had witnessed enough of his boyfriend's schemes in action to be relieved that he wasn't fighting for the other side.

However, he allowed himself to risk getting schemed in chess, as it was his and Claude's favorite board game. It was a way for them to bond, and a pleasant distraction from the terrors of war on their days off.

"Damn. That was a rookie mistake." Sylvain looked up, scratching the back of his neck. "I feel like I've made that mistake before too."

Claude's grin grew wider. "Indeed you have."

"Wait, really? When? How would you remember that?"

His grin faltered. "Is this truly not ringing any bells? Me checkmating you with my knight and queen?"

"Um. . ." Sylvain bit his lip. Him and Claude played chess often enough, both before and during the war, that he could not recall many individual games. However, there was one game that stood prominent in his mind. "Was it our first game?"

Claude's smile returned. Sylvain took note of the authenticity of it; this was not one of his small, shallow smiles that he put as a front. This smile went from ear to ear, a smile only Sylvain got to frequently see.

Sylvain couldn't help smiling as well. "That award-winning smile of yours tells me I guessed right."

"You remember that day as well as I do, no?"

"How could I forget that day, even if I wanted to?"

Sylvain became immersed in the memory; though it happened 5 years ago, it remained clear as if it happened the day before. He gazed at Claude, knowing that he was undergoing the same experience as the outer world slowly diminished.

_______________________________________________________________

 "Sylvain!"

The redhead's heart lurched as he heard Ingrid bark his name from afar. This was by no means the first time Sylvain had heard his name barked in such a tone, and knew it wouldn't be the last; yet, when coming from Ingrid, it sounded just as frightening each time. A part of him should have seen this coming, causing him to internally scold himself as he ran up the stairs to the second floor of the dormitory. But on the other hand, how was he supposed to know that the beautiful woman he came across while shopping happened to be a Knight of Seiros, formerly a knight for House Galatea?

"Syl.Vain!"

Her voice boomed closer. Sylvain grit his teeth, cursing Seteth for assigning him the room at the very end of the hall. He couldn't tell if he could hear Ingrid so well because of distance or volume, and he didn't want to find out which. And with how far he currently was from his room, combined with the time it would take to lock his door, he risked having that question answered.

Before he could change his mind, he suddenly skid to a stop and knocked on the door in front of him. He wasn't sure who's door this was; for all he knew, whoever was behind this door was either not present, or would slam the door on him, out of not wanting to get involved in his latest failed flirtatious crusade.

However, Sylvain recognized his luck the moment the door opened. It was Claude.

"Claude, my guy!" Sylvain flashed his signature charming smile. "Listen--"

"Need somewhere to hide?" Claude rose his eyebrow in feign curiosity.

Sylvain was too surprised to uphold his smile. "Wow. That didn't take long. How'd you know?"

"Panic is written all over your face, and I heard Ingrid yelling your name." Claude stepped back from the door. "Get in here."

"Sylvain Jose Gautier! I know you're in your room, don't try to hide from me!"

The red-haired man gulped as he heard Ingrid stomp up the stairs. His adrenaline had peaked high enough for his body to freeze, his legs stuck to the ground as he waited for his demise. At that moment, Claude grabbed Sylvain's upper arm and yanked him through his door as he kicked it shut.

As both young men caught their breath, Claude's hand remained on his arm. Sylvain didn't notice at first; he closed his eyes as he composed himself, returning to his senses as his adrenaline fell. Once he opened his eyes and took a final deep breath, he peered down at Claude's resting hand. He quickly pulled it away, placing it on his own hip instead.

Before either of them could break the silence, angry footsteps came storming down the hall. Sylvain felt his adrenaline slowly rising again, though to a lesser extent; him and Claude remained quiet as mice as Ingrid passed by Claude's door. They listened as Ingrid reached Sylvain door, (presumably) kicked it open, and nearly rose her voice once more.

"Sylvain, I--"

The red-haired man held back a sigh of relief as Ingrid's voice dropped. Nearly a minute later, Ingrid's footsteps sounded down the hall once more. A few steps past Claude's door, she stopped. Sylvain heard Claude's breath hitch as Ingrid barked, "I don't know where you are, young man, but you can't hide from me forever!" Sylvain held his breath until he heard Ingrid walk down the stairs.

"Phew," Sylvain exhaled. "That was close."

"For real," Claude said. "I thought she was going to try to come in here for a moment."

"Why? I doubt Ingrid suspects that I'm hiding in your room, out of anywhere."

"I don't think she suspects you're in my room. I freaked out because, well. . .I'm hiding from her too."

"Really?" Sylvain's eyes widened. "Didn't see that coming. What'd you do to get her panties in a twist? Hit on some pretty ladies?"

"Er. . .no. During lunch, I was sitting next to her and Lorenz in the dining hall. I had sat next to Lorenz intentionally, as I created a new. . .potion I wanted to try on him. Minutes later, Ingrid showed up and happened to sit next to me. Which would have been fine and dandy, had I not confused her and Lorenz's cups."

"Oh, man. I think I know where this is going."

"When Ingrid and Lorenz were busy chatting, I slipped some of the potion into her drink, thinking it was Lorenz's. Unfortunately, I wasn't stealthy enough, and Lorenz saw me pouring it. Of course, Ingrid took a swing of her cup moments after, and by the time Lorenz warned her, it was too late."

"So what did Ingrid do then? Bitch you out on the spot?"

"Sort of. She had flames in her eyes as she asked me what I put in her drink. I knew she'd remain mad no matter what I told her, so I gave her a dismissive answer before running. It doesn't seem like the potion has kicked in yet, because she's still awfully feisty."

"Just what kind of potion did you give her?"

Claude flashed one of his half-smiles. "My, my, I should of known that you're a nosy one."

"Nosy? Normally I wouldn't ask, but we're in a similar predicament here. The least you could tell me is if you gave her a rage-amplifying potion, because I haven't seen her this mad in a while."

"When you put it that way. . .fair enough. No, I gave her a mild stomach poison, nothing out of the ordinary. My plan was for Lorenz to ingest it because we were supposed to do stable duty together this afternoon, and I didn't want to deal with his--" Claude lowered his pitch in a mocking tone as he imitated Lorenz. ""--cleaning hooves is too strenuous for my delicate hands" this and, "sweeping hay is work below my noble birth" that. Ideally, it would have kicked in around now, and keep him in pain long enough to force Teach to partner me with someone else. But Ingrid only drank a few sips before Lorenz warned her, so she didn't drink enough for the potion to take full effect, assuming I made it correctly and it has any effect. Not to mention she's quite distracted." He flashed a half-smile. "She's so mad at you, it seems she forgot that she was mad at me. So I owe you my thanks."

"Oh. Wow." Sylvain didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended. "Is that why you're being merciful and allowing me to hide in here?"

"Yes and no." Claude tilted his head. "As bad as I feel for you, I've been wanting to talk to you. Because I also find you to be quite intriguing."

"Intriguing?" Sylvain rose an eyebrow. "What about me is intriguing?"

Claude chuckled. "You ask that as if it's a first. That doesn't surprise me, considering most of the conversation about you at Garreg Mach is, well. Not favorable."

Sylvain frowned. "I'm aware."

"Hey, no need for the long face. I'm not about to patronize you." Sylvain didn't have time to feel relieved because without missing a beat, Claude added, "Because I know you're smart. You know exactly what you're doing."

Sylvain flinched, his head lurching forward. "Huh?"

"I've seen the way you act around women, the way you try to woo them. I don't know about anyone else, but it's clear to me that your advances aren't authentic. You don't have genuine feelings for any of the girls you approach; I would argue you don't even find some of them attractive. It's all a game for you, to see how far you can reel them in before you leave them hanging."

The red-haired man's heartbeat began to increase again. "Uh. . ."

"And, trust me when I say I mean this in the most polite way possible. But not only do you lie to women, you're not even good at it. I feel bad for the women gullible enough to have fallen for your advances."

Heat rose from the center of Sylvain's stomach. "I see. You're laying on some thick accusations. It takes a bad liar to spot other bad liars, no?"

"Perhaps. But you haven't told me that I'm wrong."

He hadn't, and as much as Sylvain wanted to, he couldn't. He wasn't sure what it was about Claude, but with how he read him like a book, he couldn't gather the nerve to put on a pretty face.

"Okay, so I'm a bad liar and I play games with women. Congrats, you've solved the puzzle and won the grand prize. What else do you want?"

"Oh, I don't want anything." Claude stretched his arms, bending his elbows downwards so his hands were behind his neck. "I'm simply curious to what fuels your behavior. When I tried to come up with an explanation, I considered that you might have a grudge against women. Until I found out, you've hit on men as well."

It took every nerve in Sylvain's body to not leap up in surprise. "Okay, where did you hear that? Does Ingrid complain about me that often?"

"Bold of you to assume I heard that from Ingrid." His half-smile returned. "It was Flayn. I'm assuming Seteth told her that information in hopes to turn her against you, though all I'm asking is if it's true."

Sylvain buried his hand into his forehead. "Of course Seteth would tell her that. . ."

"But is it true?"

Sylvain sucked in a hiss. He threw his hand down as he barked, "Okay, I might have approached a few guys in the past. But those guys were known to be attracted to other men, and I just wanted to see how they would react!"

"I see. So you're open to hitting on men and women. But I'm still not sure why you play games when gender isn't the primary factor."

For a half second, Sylvain almost wished he had let Ingrid tear him another one instead of knocked on Claude's door. Yet, while he couldn't get himself to admit it, he appreciated how unfazed Claude was knowing he had flirted with men, and how mellow he had remained throughout this conversation. As uncomfortable as the subject was, no one had addressed Sylvain's behavior in this manner before; when people such as Ingrid, Seteth, and Dimitri would lecture him, they would simply tell him how irritated they were and that he should stop, which only made Sylvain want to flirt with people more. But when his behaviors were picked apart and put on display, Sylvain wasn't sure what to think, aside from the fact that he currently didn't want to keep having this conversation.

While attempting to form a dismissive response, Sylvain's eyes caught some of a chessboard laying under Claude's bed, chess pieces thrown in a pile in its center. Having no other diversion to resort to, he pointed at it.

"You play chess?"

"What?" Claude saw where Sylvain was pointing and turned to look. "Oh. Yeah, when I get the chance."

"So since we're on the subject of playing games. . .how about we play a round?"

"Trying to distract me, I see?" Claude smirked. "That's alright. To tell you the truth, I've thought about playing chess against you a few times. To test if you're as intelligent as I think."

"If you've convinced I'm so intelligent, maybe you should be more anxious about losing to me."

Claude pulled his chessboard from under his bed, dragging it to the middle of the floor as he replied with a raspy voice. "Alas, I shall not fall to anxiety, because anxiety is fear, and fear is a mind-killer." He sat on the ground. "That's a quote from some random old guy from centuries ago. Read it in a book."

Sylvain chuckled, sitting down across from the younger man. "If you insist, fearless warrior."

Claude bit back what looked like a smirk before responding, "What color do you want? Only difference is that white goes first."

"I'm feeling risky, so I'll take black."

The two young men remained mostly silent throughout the beginning of their game. Sylvain occasionally swore when Claude took out one of his pieces, and Claude praised Sylvain a couple times for making a move he didn't predict. While slight, the praise managed to boost Sylvain's ego enough to give him confidence that he would win, all while forgetting how he ended up in Claude's room in the first place.

That is, until he heard a distinct voice from outside the dormitory.

"Hey, Caspar! Have you seen Sylvain?"

Sylvain's blood turned to ice as Claude's breath hitched. They exchanged a look, silently asking each other if they should pause their game. Claude answered the question by carefully pushing a pawn forward with a finger, the pawn making almost no sound as it slid.

"Sylvain? Can't say that I have."

The red-haired man followed Claude's lead, gently pushing pieces rather than lifting them as he resisted the urge to peek out of Claude's window. Unfortunately, his distracted mind led to his demise, because next thing he knew, the younger man flashed a shit-eating grin.

"Checkmate," he whispered.

"What? How am I in--" Sylvain scanned his eyes around the board. "Oh." His king was surrounded with Claude's queen and remaining knight. "Damn. Can't believe I missed that!"

"Hey, you were beating me for a while. I may have won, but color me impre--"

"Dorothea! Did you see Sylvain within the last hour?"

Claude's jaw snapped shut as Ingrid's voice reemerged.

"I haven't," Dorothea said. "Who did he flirt with this time?"

Sylvain could tell Claude was fighting the urge to look out the window himself, his eyes constantly drifting towards that side of the room. Yet, for both of their sake, he remained composed.

"Oh, no one special. Just one of the Knights of Seiros that used to work for my father!"

Claude clasped a hand over his mouth. Sylvain was almost grateful they had to be silent, because he knew Claude had a roast dancing behind his lips.

"Wow. That man is really desperate, no wonder you're mad. Unfortunately, I haven't seen him since breakfast in the dining hall."

A pang stabbed Sylvain in the chest. He knew people all over Garreg Mach spoke ill of him, but to hear such ill-spoken words in real time hit differently.

"Oh. That's alrigh--ow!"

"Ingrid!" Dorothea shrieked. "Are you alright?"

"Ack. . .my stomach just started hurting real bad. Wait. . ."

"What is it?"

"Claude. He sneaked some potion into my drink during lunch today, and Lorenz didn't tell me he saw Claude do so until I had already drank some. Could this be. . .?"

"It has to be!" Dorothea barked. "That stupid Claude and his schemes! Must be one of his stomach potions I hear notorious things about. I can't believe he would go as far as to poison my Ingrid!"

"I don't understand it either. . .but Lorenz was at our table. Maybe he meant to poison Lorenz and accidentally poisoned me in the process?"

"It doesn't matter who Claude meant to poison! He still hurt my Ingrid and he is going to pay the price!" The growl in Dorothea's voice temporary dissipated as she switched to comforting Ingrid. "I'll take you to the infirmary, I'm sure Manuela has something to ease the pain. After that, I'm going to find Claude and make him sorry he ever came near you!"

"Dorothea, you are so kind, but there's no need to track down Claude. I can talk to him myself once my pain eases."

"Nonsense! You can bring him to justice later, but I must defend my Ingrid now! Come along, the infirmary isn't far."

Sylvain and Claude waited a long, tense minute until the two young women had walked far enough. Then Sylvain asked in a voice far calmer than it should have been, "Now what do we do? This will be the first place Dorothea will check as soon as she drops off Ingrid."

"Well. . ." Claude bit his lip. "You could help me with stable duty."

"Stable duty? Oh, right. That's still a thing." Sylvain remained still.

"I get it, you don't want to do laborious work. But think of it this way; consider your help as not only my grand prize for beating you, but a guaranteed escape from the wrath of Ingrid and Dorothea." Claude's half-grin flashed once more. "What do you say to that?"

". . .On second thought, stable duty sounds like a really good idea right now." Sylvain stood up fast enough to nearly pull a muscle. "Race you there!"

"As if I wasn't already going to make a run for it." Claude stood up as well, and within seconds, both of them were out the door and stampeding down the hall.

 _______________________________________________________________

 "Oh Sylvaiiiiin!"

"Huh?" Sylvain jerked out of his thoughts. He was met with his Claude standing right in front of him, continuing to flash his award-winning smile. "Yes?"

"Do I get a grand prize for beating you, again?"

"Why of course, darling." Sylvain reached up to cup his boyfriend's face and pull him into a kiss. Claude kissed him back eagerly, crouching as he swung his legs over Sylvain's to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around the redhead as he deepened the kiss, probing his tongue to ask for entrance. Sylvain was about to allow his tongue entry, only for their make-out session to be cut off by a grumpy voice.

"You two are disgusting. Go to your room if you're going to make out!"

Sylvain and Claude snapped their heads towards Felix, who frowned at the doorway of the common room. Sylvain felt a blush creeping towards his face, unable to come up with a response. However, he didn't have to, because what Claude said next spoke for his behalf.

"Not our fault you can't find someone to make out in public with."

He winked at Felix before returning his gaze to Sylvain and diving in for another kiss, instantly probing his tongue. Sylvain opened his mouth without hesitation, therefore resuming their make-out session. They ignored Felix as he huffed and stormed off.

As their make-out session began to get heated, Sylvain continued to praise that day; he would never get over having met the love of his life over philandering gone wrong. That day led to a blossoming friendship, which led to a mutual crush, which led to a beautiful, loving relationship to the future leader of Fódlan. This man saw through Sylvain like glass; his Crest, noble house, and philandering were irrelevant to Claude, because Claude loved him for him. There was no man in Fódlan who understood Sylvain better, the same man determined to create a world more equal than the one both were raised in.

That didn’t make Claude want to talk to him any less. Hurriedly, he got up and opened the door to the office. Fortunately, Lorenz’s hands were tied and he didn’t have to race him to the doors. The only one left was Hilda, and she never put up a fight.

 Which, if he were honest, was a terrible quality for a sales rep, but she’d always managed her sales when she did try. Barely glancing at her as he passed, he informed her, “I’ll handle this.”

 “Huh?” Curious, she glanced up from her phone at the door, then at him, and groaned. “Is it already that time of month?”

 Claude ignored her grumblings as he smoothened out his jacket and tightened his tie. He had to look his best, after all. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced at his reflection on the hood of the Subaru BRZ. Yeah, he still had it.

 The redhead stepped inside. Claude approached him with a grin. “Looking for a new car?”

 The man laughed, bright and airy. “This is a dealership. Why else would I be here?”

 Sure, put like that it was a silly question, but that was what small talk was: silly questions with silly answers. The insult rolled off his shoulders like water off a duck and Claude smirked. “Well, you could be here for the perks.”

 “Like you?” The man leered, his green eyes sparkling as he played along. There was a barely restrained intelligence in there, one that Claude liked drawing out. He was certain his own expression was the exact same.

 “I knew you had an eye for quality.” Claude winked, brushing his long hair back just enough that the stranger could see his golden earring. “Depending on the car you pick, I could be interested.”

 “Gold-digger?” the man teased. As he shifted, his tie loosened slightly, just enough to give Claude a peek at his collar bones. It had to be on purpose. Claude refused to believe otherwise.

 “I’m a salesman, can’t blame me for trying.” Claude leaned against the silver Chevrolet Corvette nearby, running his fingers along the edge. “Though, there’s just something about these higher-end models. They’re really…luxurious.”

 “It’s that new car smell,” he agreed, coming closer. “Or those warm seats.”

 Noticing the ring on the customer’s hand, Claude tapped his finger. “And the ring?”

 “Removeable.” He waggled his brows, a gesture probably more comical than he’d intended. Ring still on, he finally held out his hand. “Sylvain.”

 He smirked, finally reaching his objective. Shaking Sylvain’s hand firmly, he replied, “Claude. What sort of car are you after?”

 “Something fast. Flashy.” Sylvain purred, his thumb stroking Claude’s thumb before reluctantly letting go. This close, Claude could smell the cologne on him, a refreshing scent that made him think of the sea after a storm. “Strong.”

 “I think we have just what you’re after.” It was too soon to reach back, to twist Sylvain’s dark green tie around his brown wrist. A missed opportunity, one that Claude would have to correct later. “A new model came in the back. I know you’ll like it.”

 “I think I already see something I like,” Sylvain murmured, resting his hands on the Chevrolet and caging Claude in. His eyes darkened and Claude mentally patted himself on the back for picking his earthy cologne this morning.

 “Do you now?” Claude gently tugged on his collar, licking his lips. “I’m expecting a high commission.”

 A wet rag hit Sylvain’s check with a squelchy splat. Sylvain blinked. Claude stared at him blankly. They both turned to the right to find Hilda standing next to the water cooler. Rolling her eyes, she huffed, “Do you guys have to do this every time?”

 “What?” Sylvain whined, pulling off the rag as he straightened up. “Did that really deserve a wet rag?”

 “Yes!” Hilda groaned, returning to the leather couch and plopping down on it. “If you’re going to give me a show, at least make it entertaining. Enough with the nerdy pick up lines! They’re so lame.”

 “Lame?” Sylvain clutched his heart, mortally wounded.

 Claude patted him gently on the back. “You’re just out of practice. It’s okay.”

 “Yours weren’t any better,” Hilda pointed out. Wrinkling her nose, she bemoaned, “You guys are married, just save it for when you get home.”

 “I thought the ring thing was sexy,” Sylvain muttered, slumping on Claude like a heavy, water-logged cloak. His chin rested comfortably on the nook of his shoulders. “And very creative.”

 “Maybe we should both wear it next time?” Claude mused, reaching up to ruffle his husband’s hair affectionately.

 “And what was that weird thing you did before you came out of the office?” Hilda shot him a disgusted look. “Did you just…set up the scene?”

 Claude pursed his lips before slowly ambling off to his office, pulling his slumped over husband with him. “Right. Next time, I’ll just say that internally.”

 “You’re both so fucking dramatic,” Hilda grumbled, lying on the couch dramatically.

 There was a reason he liked her best.