Work Text:
When Felix logs into the online learning portal to check partner assignments, he doesn't have much in the way of expectations. Partnered work isn't unusual in Byleth's classes—they said something about working in pairs being better learning for both involved, and they’ve stuck to their thinking the entire term so far. While Felix doesn't like people, he cares enough about the class to at least try and put up with it.
The first time, he’d gotten lucky and paired with Ingrid. They’d managed to quickly pull together the 5-minute presentation with days to spare, thanks to her rigid study routine. The second assessment had been a 2000 word paper, split with Dorothea. Their work hadn’t been fantastic, but it had met the minimum requirements and she’d spoken highly of him in the partner review. Then he’d had Sylvain, and it had been equal parts disastrous and easy. Disastrous because Sylvain had ignored all of Felix’s attempts to actually find credible sources for the presentation, but easy because Sylvain had a way with words when it came down to it, and at least some of their marks were for audience interest and holding a crowd.
All in all, it hadn’t gone too badly so far. He was holding a decent grade, he’d had decent partners to work with, and there was only one assignment left—a big one, 3000 words and a 15-minute presentation, and only three weeks to complete it all. He’d have chosen Ingrid, if he’d been allowed to choose for himself. As much as her habits could be annoying, she wouldn’t allow an incomplete assessment to stain her record, and there would be no marks lost for formatting or referencing incorrectly. She had an eye for detail, after all.
When he logs in, though, he doesn’t see Ingrid’s name. He doesn’t see Sylvain’s or Dorothea’s. He doesn’t even see Lorenz or Ferdinand’s names either, and he’d really rather not work with them if he could avoid it. No. Instead, in small black font, listed among a dozen other pairs:
Dimitri Blaiddyd — Felix Fraldarius.
He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of all people, Dimitri? Felix had managed to spend the better part of two academic years without seeing the guy, and now they had to… meet up. And do work. Together.
Once upon a time, he might have relished the opportunity. Their fathers had been close, so they'd essentially grown up together, frequently visiting one anothers’ homes. Then Glenn had been hired as an assistant to Lambert's business one summer, and that meant Glenn was able to give Felix rides to Dimitri's place, and so they'd spent the days together. Glenn would leave to get on with work, and Felix and Dimitri would watch TV, or kick a ball around the grounds. It was rare that Felix wanted to swim, but sometimes he'd dip his legs in the deep end of the Blaiddyds’ pool while Dimitri treaded water or swam lengths. The hours would pass and it would feel like minutes, even on the longest days, even through the occasional nights that Felix would stay over and they’d stay up chatting until the small hours. The days were bright and the nights were short, and at sixteen years old, Felix hadn’t wanted anything different. At sixteen years old, he’d wanted to stay cuddled under blankets when nobody saw, looking down at Dimitri in the pool with his hair slicked back, collapsed on the grass together in the afternoon sun. At sixteen, Felix thought maybe it could have been that way forever.
But Felix is twenty, now, and things are different.
Dimitri hasn’t changed his number, though, and it’s easy to send a text. There isn’t much in the way of communication; scattered well-wishes on birthdays from Dimitri and the occasional confirmation of plans for Ingrid or Sylvain’s birthdays, but little else.
We’ve been partnered for Byleth’s class.
Library Saturday morning to divide the work. About 10am.
Second floor. I’ll book a study room.
Do the assigned reading in advance.
The ‘seen’ checkmarks appear almost instantly.
Understood. See you then, Felix.
~
Saturday rolled around simultaneously too quickly and not quickly enough. The sooner the project was complete, the sooner Dimitri was out of Felix’s hair. But that involved seeing Dimitri. Sylvain had laughed—but not unkindly—when Felix had lamented his position through texts in the days preceding. Sylvain had gotten off lightly in comparison; Ignatz was studious and more than happy to let Sylvain handle the talking portion in exchange for doing most of the writing.
When Felix shows up at 9.57am, Dimitri is already waiting for him. There are two coffees on the table, one placed in front of an empty place at the work table; Felix can only assume it is for him. Dimitri has done his usual organised-disorganisation otherwise, with his laptop perfectly aligned to the edge of the table, and his notebook at a 30-degree angle. The printed sheets might look scattered off to his left, but the annotations are precise and tidy in the margins, not scrawled wherever there’s room.
“Felix,” Dimitri says, in a tone that almost sounded surprised, like he might have forgotten that Felix was coming entirely.
“Yeah. Morning,” Felix answers. It’s low and more of a grunt than anything else. He debates taking a seat other than the one Dimitri had pre-assigned him, but ultimately he decides it’s not worth the effort of explaining himself, or trying to deal with Dimitri’s sad little puppy-dog eyes. He used to pull them out a lot. Felix has no doubt that he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.
Dimitri eyes him cautiously, like he doesn’t know what to do, or say. It never used to be difficult. He never used to look at Felix like that. There never used to be anything to be cautious about.
“I brought coffee,” Dimitri says, like it wasn’t obvious. “I assumed you still liked what you used to—”
“Latte with two sugars,” Felix says, right as Dimitri says the same. Felix coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and reaches for the drink before him. It is early, and he does want coffee. He takes a swig. Dimitri just watches him, and the corners of his lips twitch into something resembling a smile as Felix sets the cup back on the table.
“Anyway. We have a paper to write and a presentation to plan. You did the reading?”
“And annotated it with my thoughts.” Dimitri pushes the papers beside him over towards Felix.
“Good. I only got through half of it. I read the abstracts, at least. I have a basic overview.”
“Do you want me to give you an overview?” Dimitri asks. If Felix didn’t know any better, he’d almost say that Dimitri sounded nervous. But what was there to be nervous about?
“Sure,” Felix says. He leans back in his chair, and reaches for his coffee. “Go ahead.”
Dimitri’s explanation is concise, but touches on all of the major points that they need to cover. Felix’s questions are few in number, and easily resolved with just a few moments of discussion. It’s formal, and maybe stilted, but Felix soon has a solid understanding of the task at hand and the actual assignment.
“You should do the actual talking part,” he says, once Dimitri is finished. “You explained all that stuff like it was easy, and you like all that public speaking stuff anyway.”
Dimitri doesn’t say anything for just a fraction of a second too long. Felix knows before Dimitri even opens his mouth that he’s going to protest. He knows, or so he thinks—because when Dimitri does speak, it’s not a protest at all.
“Why do you think that?” Dimitri asks. His voice is quiet, almost small. Not hurt, exactly. Sylvain would know what it was and how to navigate it.
Felix isn’t Sylvain, though. So he shrugs his shoulders instead. “I dunno. You always did all that student council stuff. Got chosen to go speak at things.”
“Does that mean I enjoy it, or just that I’m good at it and have been asked to?” He’s not angry, or not in a way that Felix would recognise it anyway. There’s no hunched shoulders, there’s no raised voice. There’s no clenched fist or set jaw.
Felix doesn’t answer the question. “Look, whatever, are you happy doing the presentation or not? I can write the whole essay.”
“We’re supposed to split the work evenly—”
“And I’m telling you that I’m fine with a split like this. It keeps you off my back, you get to do the part you’re good at, I get to avoid the speaking, win-win, right? I’ll even write about how easy the whole thing was in the partner review.”
Dimitri sighs. “Do you want to avoid me that badly?”
“That’s not—I’m not—” Felix tries, but it’s not true, and he knows it. They’d barely spoken to each other in years, and bridging the gap now is too difficult. Or it was too difficult.
“I can’t make you work with me,” Dimitri cedes. “But for what it’s worth, I think the work will be better if we both contribute to both aspects. I’d appreciate if we could collaborate.”
He’s so formal. It never used to be like that. It used to be inside jokes and codes that nobody else knew.
“Fine,” Felix says. He’s only doing it for the grade. “We collaborate. For now, I think we need to outline the essay, since writing it is going to take the longest.”
“I agree. So let’s get started.”
Felix can’t say he’s looking forward to the next few weeks on the assignment. But how bad can it be?
~
It’s bad. The next time they meet, it’s in one of the campus coffeeshops. They’re still there two coffees and a milkshake later. Felix makes suggestions on how to approach the essay, and Dimitri debates him at every step, questioning everything.
“Can’t we just get on with it?” Felix finally asks, slapping his pen down on the table after yet another round of suggestions and pushbacks.
“I just want it to be good, Felix—”
“Done is better than good. We can edit after we have a draft.”
“Better to have a good foundation to work from, surely?”
Felix leans forward. If it had been five years prior, he’d surely have reached out to take Dimitri’s face in his hands. Instead, he just stares, refusing to drop his gaze. (Later, he’ll wonder why he was so stricken by how blue Dimitri’s eyes are. Now, he just stares and ignores it).
“Okay, Felix.” Dimitri holds his hands up, a placating gesture. “We’ll do it your way.”
“Thank fuck.”
Felix scoots his chair around to look over Dimitri’s shoulder. The documents on his laptop are neatly organised, and he’s structured the essay as they’d agreed before.
“Okay,” Felix says, leaning in. “Make some extra bullet points outlining our basic arguments under section B. We can add the references later. But building up from bullet points is how I usually work, so.”
Progressing is marginally easier than it had been at the start of the study session, for which Felix is thankful. They spend most of it shoulder-to-shoulder—and once they hit their flow state, when Dimitri is already writing the things that Felix had been just about to say, it almost feels just like old times.
~
The next week is spent late at the library. Felix’s other classes run into the afternoons, and Dimitri is busy with extra-curriculars, meaning their only option is to meet after dinner and work then.
The library is quiet, at this time. There’s still time left before the end-of-term crunch, and so the aisles of books are practically blissful. The only noise is the occasional shuffle of feet as the few other students move around, or the rhythmic taps on peoples’ keyboards.
They’re careful to whisper, leaned in close over the table as they work.
“So it’s a fifteen minute presentation - we need to leave three minutes for questions,” Dimitri explains, tabbing through slides he’s outlined. “If you want, I can take the introduction and the questions at the end, and you can explain the methodology and run through the critiques of the studies we’ve read. I can explain our thinking and conclusions then. It still means I’m doing most of the talking, but it means you get to talk a little on the parts that are more factual and less opinion based.”
Felix nods, reaching over to swipe on the trackpad, flicking the slides along to review them. His fingers briefly brush against Dimitri’s, and Felix doesn’t miss the way Dimitri jerks his hand back. Nor does he miss how Dimitri runs that same hand through his hair, trying to play it off.
“This looks really solid,” Felix says. He has to acknowledge that it’s good work where he can - he has a grade on the line, even if he’d still rather work with anyone else.
Dimitri breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Good. I was worried you were still going to hate the idea of talking during the presentation. Or just argue with me about everything.”
“I don’t argue about everything,” Felix says, rolling his eyes and dragging his hand down his face once he realises what he’s just done. “I mean. Not all the time. Only when it’s worth arguing.”
Dimtri makes a noise that Felix can’t identify. When he sits himself upright, he peers at Dimitri’s face. He’s laughing. Dimitri is laughing, and Felix hasn’t seen it in years.
There’s a weight in Felix’s chest when he looks back at Dimitri’s laptop screen. He coughs to clear his throat. “We should get on with this,” he says. It’s easier to think about the work than to think about Dimitri and whatever his laughter and his stupid blue eyes mean. “Let’s focus.”
“Whatever you say, Felix.” Dimitri’s voice is agonisingly fond. He elbows Felix’s side for good measure, the kind of thing he used to do all those years ago.
For a moment, it’s like they’re sixteen again.
~
Felix gets breakfast with Sylvain the next weekend. It’s a dump of a diner, the kind of place they all used to go to when they were kids and their pocket money was monitored closely.
Sylvain digs into a stack of pancakes and washes it all down with tea. Felix pokes at eggs and bacon with a black coffee. They talk about nothing and everything, as is usual. Sylvain’s less salacious exploits. How Ingrid is getting along, which classes are proving difficult. Naturally, it turns to the assignment.
“You weren’t complaining, like, even half as much as I thought you would, dude,” Sylvain says as he stabs another piece of a pancake. “Like, everyone knows that whole thing with Dimitri is rough. It’s still fucking weird you barely talk to the guy, by the way—” He stops only for a moment to chew the pancake he’d just stabbed. “—but like hey, I’m not judging. Maybe it’s good for you. He seems happy about it.”
“He what?” Felix asks. He’s heard enough of Sylvain and Ingrid’s give it a chance spiels before. This, though, is new. “What do you mean, he’s happy about it?”
Sylvain pauses in his movements, becoming very still indeed. It’s like he knows he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. “Uh. He’s happy you’re like, talking to him again. Called it a real act of fate that you got paired together and you didn’t immediately bite his head off.”
Felix rolls his eyes, but it nags at him. Dimitri was happy about the situation? Despite all of the—everything?
Sylvain, clever as he is, seems to notice Felix’s plight. “It’s okay,” he says. “I think he’s just—you know, he’s been pretty bummed that you two aren’t even really friends any more, never mind whatever else was going on.” Felix shoots him a look, but Sylvain continues before Felix can protest out loud. “And he says it’s been going well, so he’s been pretty happy, yeah.”
“It’s just—”
“I know, Felix. I know. The stuff with Glenn fucked you both up, and it’s been hard to get over it. I know.” Sylvain sighs, and shrugs his shoulders “I think it’s just really shit that both of you lost one of your best friends too, that’s all. It’s been pretty clear for a while that he just wanted things to go back to how they were.”
Warm summers. Laying on the grass. Leaning in from the edge of the pool, so close they were almost—
Felix shakes his head. “It’s been going well, Sylvain, but not that well.”
“I know,” Sylvain says. His voice is weary, like he’s lived three lifetimes in mere minutes. “But I miss having the whole gang together too, you know? I think you ought to give him a chance again.”
“I’ll think about it.”
~
Felix did not, in fact, think about it. At least, he doesn’t until he next sees Dimitri in person in a study room, just two short days before their work is due. And when he sees Dimitri bundled up in his hoodie in the library, it begins to take up brainspace. When Dimitri looks over at him and smiles—like he used to, eyes soft—it’s all Felix can think about. When he sits at the desk, it’s the spot beside Dimitri, and he doesn’t shuffle the chair away. He leans over to peer at Dimitri’s screen, to check if he wants to start with the essay or the presentation, and he doesn’t take great pains to ensure that their arms don’t brush together.
“Hey,” he says, belatedly.
“Hi,” Dimitri says back. “Good to get started?”
“Good to go,” Felix confirms.
They work quickly. Seamlessly. Felix practices his lines for the presentation, and Dimitri helps him refine it so as to avoid nitpicking by the audience. Felix checks Dimtri’s work on the essay, and removes some of the overly-complicated language to ensure readability.
“You don’t need to make us sound like that,” Felix says as he deletes a sixty-word sentence and replaces it with two shorter and simpler ones. “I know terminology is important, but you’re using all these words to not say much of anything important, so it’s gotta go.”
“Understood.”
Their knees knock under the table, and their legs press together just through proximity, but Felix is in no rush to pull away. They re-read the essay from start to finish. Again, and again, and by the time they’re done the third read, they’re touching almost the entire length of their bodies, leg-to-shoulder. Sharing a screen invited proximity, apparently.
“I think we’re good to submit,” Dimitri declares, though he makes no effort to move away.
“Yeah,” Felix agrees. He does pull back, but just a little. Just enough to buy himself breathing space. “If you can submit it when you get back to your room, then?
“I will,” Dimitri confirms, ensuring it’s saved one last time before he closes his laptop lid. “You’re feeling okay about the presentation?”
“Better now we’ve rehearsed,” Felix says. It’s still not perfect, but it’ll do. There’s not much time left to practice it more anyhow.
“Perfect. All that’s left is the partner review sheets. Don’t worry, I’m going to be nice.”
Felix shrugs. “Don’t be nice,” he says. “Be honest. I am.”
Dimitri looks at him. Felix can feel it, flitting his eyes to the side to catch Dimitri’s gaze.
“What?” Felix asks. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. We worked pretty well, yeah?”
Dimitri looks relieved. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Almost like how we used to.”
“Almost like how we used to, yeah.”
~
The day of the presentation is a blur. He definitely goes to one of the campus coffeeshops to get something to eat, and a coffee to down before the class. He definitely meets Dimitri outside the door, and they definitely sit together. Sylvain delivers a presentation effortlessly. Dorothea and Ingrid. Lorenz and Claude.
Their names are called, and Felix must rise to his feet, for he’s at the front of the room moments later, and Dimitri’s brushing behind him to reach the PC. There’s a ghost of a hand at his side, the tiniest and quickest of squeezes, almost certainly intended as a reassuring gesture.
And Felix doesn’t hate it.
They begin the presentation, split how they’d agreed. Dimitri handles the introduction, and Felix handles the subsequent sections. It’s out of the way within five minutes, and Felix is sure he’s nailed the points he’s supposed to make. Then, it’s Dimitri’s turn. And he’s good. Of course he is—this has always been his strength.
There are only two questions from Byleth. Dimitri handles them both, and then they’re excused.
The rest of the class passes in a blur, a handful more pairs getting up to speak; some good, some less good. He tunes them out, too preoccupied with how his leg presses against Dimitri’s here, too, even though he probably could have angled his body away. How he doesn’t want to turn away, how he doesn’t want to pull back.
They leave the class. Dimitri hesitates as they leave the room and enter the quad. On any other day, they’d go their separate ways without speaking. Today, Dimitri places a hand on Felix’s shoulder and says, “That went really well. Well done.”
“You did most of it,” Felix says. “Well done to you too.”
They look at each other for a moment, then another. Dimitri seems to be considering something, and eventually he steps forward, briefly wrapping both his arms around Felix and squeezing him in a hug. He pulls away as quickly as he initiated it, but the warmth remains.
“I’m glad we got to work together,” Dimitri says, taking a proper step back to allow some distance between them again.
“Yeah,” Felix says. “It wasn’t bad.”
“Do you think we could go get breakfast this weekend? With Sylvain and Ingrid?”
Like old times.
“Yeah,” Felix nods. He almost cracks a smile, too, one corner of his lips turning up. “That’ll be nice.”
It’s not a warm summer, and they’re not sprawled on the grass of the Blaiddyd estate. They’re not questionably close and they’re not up watching movies until the early hours. It’s not the way things were, not yet.
But it could be.