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Entry tags:
Day 2 - Heatwave/Cruise/Roadtrip
"Dimitri," Claude says, gently, as though cajoling a nervous horse, "you have to get out at some point."
Dimitri, of course, doesn't answer. All Dimitri - the king of Faerghus, blessed by an unbelievable amount of luck and some very intelligent, dashing incredibly hot tacticians if Claude may say so himself - anyway, all he does is sink a little further into the water until it's nearly over his nose, and that one blue eye of his peering out right over the shimmering water's surface. It'd be very cute, except now Claude has to worry about his lover drowning to death, on top of everything else.
Sighing, Claude lowers himself into a relaxed squat, with his cheek propped up by his palm. "And here I was trying to do you a favor," he drawls, squeaking out a bit of melodrama to his tone just because he can. "Letting you have a nice little dip in the royal pool of Almyra, before we go out to do the rest of the things on our very important itinerary as the kings of two nations. And you spit in the face of my hospitality by refusing to get out?"
That has Dimitri rise his head up just a little bit from the water, which almost seems hopeful... Until he spews out a small stream of pool water from his lips, like some sort of gaudy fountain piece. "Ah, but I do spit," he says cheekily, eye sparkling.
It is well known that most of their friends from their school days believe Claude to be the schemer and trickster, while Dimitri is the patient and soft-hearted lover he's taken on. A neat little case of opposites attracting. What all of them don't know (okay so Felix might know) is that they have all been taken for damn fools who have been hoodwinked by the greatest scam of all time. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is a damned little gremlin, underneath all the propriety, with a fondness for terrible puns.
Claude can't imagine being in love with anyone else.
It's part of why he laughs, there by the poolside, and his fingers uncurl to spread along his cheek. "I can see that," he drawls. "But you know, you could be doing a lot more interesting things with your mouth than spitting out nasty pool water. Just a suggestion, and all that." He winks, for good measure.
At least that has Dimitri pause for a moment, considering the very sexy and attractive offer sitting there at the pool side. "Perhaps I may need a demonstration, if I am to come out of the cool bliss of water into the wretched heatwave which permanently resides in Almyra," he says, putting on his Very Important and Serious Voice.
"Oh ho, trying to polish your negotiation skills before the next we meet at the political table, I see," Claude teases him. "How about you come out of the water, if you want that demonstration so badly?"
Dimitri actually scoffs at him, somehow managing to tilt his head back enough to make a half-decent effort at lifting his chin imperiously. Terrible, really. Claude wants to pinch his cheeks. "I believe that you are attempting to get me out of the water with your offer, King Khalid, and so it would be terribly unfair as a bargain if I were to leave the water before I got the proper demonstration of what I am leaving for. Lean forward so that I might rise up a bit and accept the demonstration this way."
Well, it was worth a try, wasn't it? "Oh, don't give me that look," Claude laughs, bracing his palm against the lip of the pool, fingers stopping just above where the mosaic of colorful tile makes up the inside. He leans forward, making sure he's steady. "What kind of man would I bet if I didn't make an attempt-"
Dimitri lunges forward, arms wrapped around Claude's neck almost before he can blink, and drags him under.
An honest man would perhaps admit to the really embarrassing noise that leapt out of their throat, upon having their lover leap forward like a moose surging through water. However, if anyone would ever ask, Claude would say that he made not a single damned sound that would get drowned out by his mouth filling with pool water.
Anyone saying otherwise, even the very noble and polite King of Fodlan, is a gods damned liar. And he can be quoted on that.
Dimitri lets go of him almost the second he hits the water, leaving him to flounder up to the surface with a gasp while his nice finery drags through the water. It's only thanks to his intelligence and the ability to think ahead that he's not sinking to the bottom, with an outfit that'd been made in mind that it might get a little water on it. A little, of course, is not being dunked into the whole pool, but it does mean his undergarments are meant to double as swimming gear, and the outerwear is lightweight enough to not be too much of a problem.
But not too much of a problem is still a problem, and he is 100% going to wring Dimitri's neck, he swears.
"You brat!" he wheezes out, only a part of that from the water in his body, and most of it because he's trying very hard not to laugh. Dimitri is already splashing away, absolutely not trying at all. "I can't believe you! What I especially can't believe is that you'd refuse a kiss from me! I'm your lover!"
"Who said I am refusing a kiss?" Dimitri guffaws, so loud and unrestrained that Claude could kiss him even he'd want to throttle his troublemaking lover to death. "Catch me with a kiss, beloved, and I will get out just as you asked!"
The audacity, really. He refuses to get out of the pool, and now is demanding that Claude catch him and kiss him? "Your negotiation skills are terrible," Claude accuses, but he's already pulling his necklaces up over his head, tossing them with a clatter over to the side of the pool. "Get over here - "
Really, it is kind of bizarre and highly unfair that Dimitri is such a good swimmer when he's grown up around ice most of his life. It takes far longer than Claude would care to admit to finally catch him and kiss him, the two of them lounging contentedly in the pool together. Even then, he couldn't be entirely sure that Dimitri didn't let him kiss him, falling to temptation at long last.
But really, Claude is the one who wins in the end, with a neat little I told you so. The next day has Dimitri waking up in his bed with a whimper, redder than even Sylvain or Leonie's bright red locks.
The sun's burn is an ever warning in Almyra, and, funnily enough, the same water cooling Dimitri down only reflected its rays all the hotter.
And Claude got a kiss? Oh, it's absolutely his winning the war instead of just the battle.
Dimitri, of course, doesn't answer. All Dimitri - the king of Faerghus, blessed by an unbelievable amount of luck and some very intelligent, dashing incredibly hot tacticians if Claude may say so himself - anyway, all he does is sink a little further into the water until it's nearly over his nose, and that one blue eye of his peering out right over the shimmering water's surface. It'd be very cute, except now Claude has to worry about his lover drowning to death, on top of everything else.
Sighing, Claude lowers himself into a relaxed squat, with his cheek propped up by his palm. "And here I was trying to do you a favor," he drawls, squeaking out a bit of melodrama to his tone just because he can. "Letting you have a nice little dip in the royal pool of Almyra, before we go out to do the rest of the things on our very important itinerary as the kings of two nations. And you spit in the face of my hospitality by refusing to get out?"
That has Dimitri rise his head up just a little bit from the water, which almost seems hopeful... Until he spews out a small stream of pool water from his lips, like some sort of gaudy fountain piece. "Ah, but I do spit," he says cheekily, eye sparkling.
It is well known that most of their friends from their school days believe Claude to be the schemer and trickster, while Dimitri is the patient and soft-hearted lover he's taken on. A neat little case of opposites attracting. What all of them don't know (okay so Felix might know) is that they have all been taken for damn fools who have been hoodwinked by the greatest scam of all time. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is a damned little gremlin, underneath all the propriety, with a fondness for terrible puns.
Claude can't imagine being in love with anyone else.
It's part of why he laughs, there by the poolside, and his fingers uncurl to spread along his cheek. "I can see that," he drawls. "But you know, you could be doing a lot more interesting things with your mouth than spitting out nasty pool water. Just a suggestion, and all that." He winks, for good measure.
At least that has Dimitri pause for a moment, considering the very sexy and attractive offer sitting there at the pool side. "Perhaps I may need a demonstration, if I am to come out of the cool bliss of water into the wretched heatwave which permanently resides in Almyra," he says, putting on his Very Important and Serious Voice.
"Oh ho, trying to polish your negotiation skills before the next we meet at the political table, I see," Claude teases him. "How about you come out of the water, if you want that demonstration so badly?"
Dimitri actually scoffs at him, somehow managing to tilt his head back enough to make a half-decent effort at lifting his chin imperiously. Terrible, really. Claude wants to pinch his cheeks. "I believe that you are attempting to get me out of the water with your offer, King Khalid, and so it would be terribly unfair as a bargain if I were to leave the water before I got the proper demonstration of what I am leaving for. Lean forward so that I might rise up a bit and accept the demonstration this way."
Well, it was worth a try, wasn't it? "Oh, don't give me that look," Claude laughs, bracing his palm against the lip of the pool, fingers stopping just above where the mosaic of colorful tile makes up the inside. He leans forward, making sure he's steady. "What kind of man would I bet if I didn't make an attempt-"
Dimitri lunges forward, arms wrapped around Claude's neck almost before he can blink, and drags him under.
An honest man would perhaps admit to the really embarrassing noise that leapt out of their throat, upon having their lover leap forward like a moose surging through water. However, if anyone would ever ask, Claude would say that he made not a single damned sound that would get drowned out by his mouth filling with pool water.
Anyone saying otherwise, even the very noble and polite King of Fodlan, is a gods damned liar. And he can be quoted on that.
Dimitri lets go of him almost the second he hits the water, leaving him to flounder up to the surface with a gasp while his nice finery drags through the water. It's only thanks to his intelligence and the ability to think ahead that he's not sinking to the bottom, with an outfit that'd been made in mind that it might get a little water on it. A little, of course, is not being dunked into the whole pool, but it does mean his undergarments are meant to double as swimming gear, and the outerwear is lightweight enough to not be too much of a problem.
But not too much of a problem is still a problem, and he is 100% going to wring Dimitri's neck, he swears.
"You brat!" he wheezes out, only a part of that from the water in his body, and most of it because he's trying very hard not to laugh. Dimitri is already splashing away, absolutely not trying at all. "I can't believe you! What I especially can't believe is that you'd refuse a kiss from me! I'm your lover!"
"Who said I am refusing a kiss?" Dimitri guffaws, so loud and unrestrained that Claude could kiss him even he'd want to throttle his troublemaking lover to death. "Catch me with a kiss, beloved, and I will get out just as you asked!"
The audacity, really. He refuses to get out of the pool, and now is demanding that Claude catch him and kiss him? "Your negotiation skills are terrible," Claude accuses, but he's already pulling his necklaces up over his head, tossing them with a clatter over to the side of the pool. "Get over here - "
Really, it is kind of bizarre and highly unfair that Dimitri is such a good swimmer when he's grown up around ice most of his life. It takes far longer than Claude would care to admit to finally catch him and kiss him, the two of them lounging contentedly in the pool together. Even then, he couldn't be entirely sure that Dimitri didn't let him kiss him, falling to temptation at long last.
But really, Claude is the one who wins in the end, with a neat little I told you so. The next day has Dimitri waking up in his bed with a whimper, redder than even Sylvain or Leonie's bright red locks.
The sun's burn is an ever warning in Almyra, and, funnily enough, the same water cooling Dimitri down only reflected its rays all the hotter.
And Claude got a kiss? Oh, it's absolutely his winning the war instead of just the battle.