Chapter Text
“Sylvain, I’m not saying you can’t enjoy yourself at night. But you must learn the art of moderation. Again and again, you end up wandering the streets until the early morning…”
“Okay, I get it. I don’t need one of your lectures. I’ve got them all memorized, anyway. I promise I’ll be better in the future. I’ll stop going out at night. I’ll focus on my studies…” Sylvain’s grin curled in a way that only brooked trouble. That should have been his hint to run. “And in return, you’ll go into town, and we’ll invite some cute girls to dinner. Shall we shake on it?”
“I’m a fool,” Dimitri muttered to himself. A fool who got Sylvain Jose Gautier to actually put effort into classwork, yes, but a fool nonetheless. ‘Naive and uptight’, Sylvain called him. He wasn’t uptight unless he was being compared to Sylvain. And the tragedy made sure he wasn’t naive in the slightest. He was only naive when it came to inane subjects, like dating. Or dating girls. Or asking girls out to go to dinner on a double-date with Sylvain.
Damn him. He made his promise to Sylvain a week ago, much to his father’s scorn. He was doing this for Faerghus. Sylvain had a brilliant mind if he just used it. If attempting to go on a date would get Sylvain to apply himself, then he would make this unconventional sacrifice. Over the past week, Sylvain had indeed been keeping his end of the bargain. Even the professor noticed how well Sylvain was doing.
“Tomorrow night,” Sylvain reminded him earlier today with a wink. “You, me, and two cute girls. I already have my date lined up. I trust you have a girl by now.”
“Ah, well…”
“Chop chop, Your Highness! We made a promise.”
“Yes, I know. I will have a… date… by tomorrow night.”
“Don’t look so glum! You’ll have a blast, I just know it.” He was not going to have a blast.
He had less than 24 hours to figure out how to ‘get a girl’. The library was proving to be of little help. Shocking that such a repository of books in a religious institution held absolutely zero books on dating advice, he knew. If only. Even the first step was causing him to stumble. What was he supposed to do, just walk up to someone? How was he supposed to pick? What sort of etiquette went along with this? Sylvain’s efforts to improve himself were earnest thus far, it was only fair for Dimitri’s efforts to be just as earnest in return. He was a prince; in theory it should be easy. Loathsome as he was, few could see past his facade and into his rotten core. He was well aware that he was something of an ‘eligible bachelor’ around the school. The most ‘eligible bachelor’, according to an overheard conversation.
The whole concept was nerve wracking. There was no backing out, though…
He slumped over his little list, glancing at his flickering candle. If the candle would die already, he would have no choice but to call it a night. It cheerfully stayed alive, uncaring towards his plight. The list. Blast, this wasn’t going to work. Ingrid’s name was already crossed out for obvious reasons. Annette’s name was crossed out too; the idea of taking his former instructor’s daughter out on a date with Sylvain just felt wrong. She seemed to view him more like an estranged sibling anyway. Mercedes was a tempting choice. She would surely laugh and go along with this whole mess. That wasn’t really in the spirit of this whole thing, was it? To invite someone who he knew would never view him in a romantic light was selfish and wholly against Sylvain’s efforts.
Not that he particularly wanted anyone to view him in a romantic light. He was destined for death and violence. Not romance.
He doubted this was what Sylvain wanted to inspire in him. His chest ached as he crossed off more names. He had written down every woman who he knew the name of onto his list. Edelgard was crossed out three times. Lysithea and Petra were young enough that they were easy to cross off. Dorothea, from his impression, hated nobility. Another easy strike. Bernadetta was terrified of him. Hilda was too much like Sylvain for his liking. Strike, strike.
He stared at his list. Marianne and Leonie. Those were the only two names he had left. Both were… doable. He quite liked Marianne, though not in a romantic sense. He felt a kindred bond between them. She understood some of the darker aspects of himself that others blinded themselves to. At the same time though, he would hate to bring her on a ‘date’ and end up hurting her when it went nowhere.
Leonie was an ideal choice. She was an excellent sparring partner, always offering up interesting and unique techniques to counter his less flexible stance. Even better, she took nonsense from no one, especially not Sylvain. That reason made him worry that bringing Leonie could ruin Sylvain’s night, though.
“Should I be worried for my classmates?”
“Claude!” Startling, he snapped his quill in half. “Blast. Ahem, Claude. Good evening.”
“Yep, happy midnight.” Claude flopped into the chair beside him and scooted close, as usual disregarding the concept of ‘personal space’ entirely. “A list of girls, mm? All classes, but only two Golden Deer remain. What does His Highness have in store for Marianne and Leonie?”
Groaning, he crumbled up the paper. “Nothing.” Perhaps it would be better to roll the dice with a stranger who he didn’t even know the name of.
“Sorry, that’s not going to cut it.” Claude scooted even closer. “C’mon, you can tell your pal Claude.”
He thumped his head against the desk. Claude was very clearly curious, and when Claude was very clearly curious, there was little that could deter him from sniffing out answers. “Sylvain is forcing me to go on a double-date. He requested I bring a girl on my arm to dinner tomorrow. I gave my word that I would be there,” he sighed, “with a girl.”
“Oo, spicy! Marianne and Leonie are your two finalists. Good taste, if I do say so myself. Unable to pick between them?”
“Please do not tease me, Claude. Not all of us have your effortless charisma.”
“That’s true! My charisma is pretty hard to match. But don’t sell yourself short, you definitely match me.”
“Hardly. Why must this be so difficult? How am I supposed to ask a girl out for one night when I have no intention to pursue anything further?”
Claude was silent for a long beat. A chill crept down his spine. When Claude was silent, that meant he was thinking very deeply. “Hmmm… I might be able to help.”
He perked up. “What do you want in return?” He knew how transactions worked when it came to Claude. Something given in return for something gained. Whatever the price, he was desperate enough to pay it.
Claude’s grin unfurled. “I’ll bring the girl, you pay for dinner. Does that sound like a deal?”
“What are you getting out of this?” He knew how transactions worked when it came to Claude. Where was the catch?
“Don’t worry about it. First though, I need to know what kind of girl you want.” Claude leaned even closer into his personal space, mere inches from his face. “What’s the vibe you’re going for? Looking to impress Sylvain? Show him up?”
“No, none of that. I simply wish to fulfill my promise.” He sighed. “The spirit of my promise, not just the letter.”
“So a girl to hang on your arm, anything will do… Lots of freedom you're giving me here.”
“Claude, I am not joking: I will be deeply in your debt. But please, don’t set me up with Hilda.”
“Hah! What do you have against dear ol Hilda?”
“Nothing! She is a wonderful woman.”
“Not your type, though, eh?”
“Well, uh, no… Most women aren’t my type,” he mumbled.
“Ohh? His Highness isn’t a lady’s man?” Why did Claude sound so excited about that?
“I simply do not have time for a lady. That is all.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“This was a horrible mistake,” he mumbled to himself, pacing near the fishing pond. Claude slipped him a note this morning to meet in this spot at this time. Well, he was here! Early, granted. There was still plenty of time before he was supposed to meet Sylvain. If Claude fell through though, he didn’t have enough time to actually ask any girl to join him.
Claude wouldn’t sabotage him, right? That would be pointlessly cruel. Claude wouldn’t prank him, right? Right? Not for something like this.
“You look stressed,” came a low, feminine voice.
He stiffened. “Apologies.” What was he thinking, pacing in an open place? No one else had been around until now; most were out on the town at this time of day. Still, he should have been more considerate. No one wanted to see a prince such as himself openly fretful. It wasn’t proper.
“Nothing to apologize for. Waiting for someone?”
“I am indeed.” He glanced at the woman, his brow furrowing. Something was familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it. She was dressed nicely enough that she must have plans for a nice night on the town, just like himself. If she was a student, he didn’t recognize which class she was from. “Do not bother yourself with me, I’m sure you’re busy tonight.”
“Mm, I do have plans.” She didn’t budge. “I’m just here to pick up my date. Maybe you know him? He’s very handsome.” This wasn’t the woman Claude was intending to hook him up with, right? Surely not. Claude said they would meet here. Claude would meet him here. Presumably with whoever the Deer wrangled into the arrangement. He expected Claude to at least show up and introduce him if a stranger was going to be involved.
“Maybe I know him. What’s his name?” The woman was pretty. Aesthetically, she was gorgeous. Sylvain would be pleased if this was his date. Dimitri wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Taking a total stranger to dinner wasn’t his idea of a ‘good time’.
“I think you know him well, Your Princeliness.”
The woman’s voice turned to a familiar masculine pitch. He choked, every last muscle in his face going slack with shock as he finally placed how he recognized that specific shade of green eyes. “C-Claude?!” Claude, who was wearing a dress, bent over double and howled with laughter. Over the course of the school year, he heard plenty of laughs from Claude. None like this, though.
“Oh! Oh, the look on your face! I knew it would be great, hah, but this! You had no idea! Oh, ohh, I really can’t start crying right now, gotta stop laughing.”
He continued to gape as Claude composed himself. Claude’s voice made it very, very obvious that the ‘woman’ was not a woman at all. Despite knowing that, he couldn’t separate how feminine Claude looked. As Claude straightened up, he took in the man’s form.
Claude’s typical braid was undone, leaving a long, flowing strand of hair covering his ear. The other ear had an earring, though it was different from the one he usually wore. His usual ‘bed-head’ spikes were absent. Instead, his chestnut hair was tamed into a lovely flow of soft waves. It was such a subtle thing, but it softened Claude’s face. Despite having short hair, it looked… pretty, it looked pretty on Claude.
And Claude’s face. His jawline was softer. It almost looked like his facial bones had moved, but that couldn’t be right. His eyebrows were filled in, obscuring the endearing patchiness at the ends. Claude’s lips were full, almost shiny in the evening light. And Claude’s eyes. The green in them appeared more vibrant, more lively. Every blink fluttered long, thick eyelashes.
And that was just Claude’s face. His eyes wandered lower. The cut of Claude’s outfit was… Goddess. If he didn’t know better, he would assume Claude actually was a woman all this time! A small bust filled out Claude’s chest, subtle yet pleasant. The modest dress cut down into his narrow waist, where it then swelled out at his hips. It had to be padding. It looked so natural, though.
“Alright, I’m sorry. No need to combust on me. C’mon, the surprise was funny!” Claude snapped in his face. “I didn’t melt your brain, did I? Yeesh, didn’t mean to embarrass you that bad…”
“U-uh. You’re. Claude.”
“You’re running a bit slow today, Your Princeliness. Of course I’m not Claude. You need a girl for your date, remember?” Like magic, Claude’s voice dipped and rose into a feminine pitch. “I give you the honor of naming me. My name is you wish to call me for the night.”
“...Huh?”
“You can’t call me ‘Claude’, otherwise Sylvain will know. It may be wise to pick a name that starts with ‘Cl’ though, just in case you start to slip up.”
“Uh…”
“You could call me… Claire. Chloe. Clara. ‘Claudia’ hits a bit too close to home. Hm… Clementine? I think that’s a type of citrus. Clarissa? Khali? I’m running out of names here, you better pick something.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his burning cheeks. His stomach was filled with squirming snakes. Claude was doing him a favor, there was no reason for his stomach to be twisted into knots! He willed his body to stop being weird. It didn’t work, but at least he tried.
“I didn’t break you, did I?”
“I’m fine. Just pick a name for yourself. Whichever you prefer is fine.”
“No no, I want you to choose.” Claude fluttered his dark lashes, his voice a feminine caress. “What does my date wish to call me, mm?”
He looked at Claude. Those vivid green eyes threatened to steal his soul, or at least his focus. Just how did Claude get them to pop like that? It was like Claude used some sort of fae magic to alter his very face.
“We’ll be late if you take too long, Your Princeliness.”
“Callie has a nice ring to it,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes. “That sounds like a nickname, though. I should introduce you with a full name. Short for… Catherine?”
“Don’t go plagiarizing from the knights, now.”
He huffed. “Don’t be so difficult, then. Clarissa, Callie for short. Happy now?”
“Khali it is, then.” Claude — Callie — smiled sweetly, his — …her? — plump lips pressing together. Should he mentally refer to Claude with male or female pronouns? Goddess, he was going on a date with Claude. Female Claude. When Claude offered to help, he thought the Golden Deer leader would ask Marianne or Leonie! His fault for assuming Claude would be predictable, he supposed. “Shall we be off?” Callie said in a lovely voice that had his stomach swooping.
She — Claude wasn’t a woman, but if he was going to get through this dinner without misgendering ‘Callie’ in front of Sylvain, he had to start thinking of him as her — walked on ahead. He gaped at the sway of her hips. It wasn’t overly exaggerated, but Claude — Callie — was walking just like a woman. A woman with hips, hips he was certain Claude didn’t have. How much was padding? How much was Claude shifting his waist to give the illusion of feminine hips? How did Claude do that?
“It’s rude to stare at a lady’s rear, Your Highness,” Callie called sweetly, looking at him with knowing eyes.
“I-I wasn’t!” He was now. It couldn’t all be padding, right? He had seen Claude from behind before. The archer wore frustratingly obscuring clothes (since when was that frustrating?), but he knew Claude had something of an ass. He was tempted to reach out and feel, find where padding ended and flesh began.
He jerked his eyes up straight ahead, face on fire. Claude had always been pretty, objectively. Dimitri might not find most people ‘attractive’ by his own standards, but he knew what people tended to look for. Claude was handsome, pretty, and overall attractive. Now though, seeing Claude dolled up in a dress, he didn’t just see how lovely the archer looked. He felt how attractive Callie was.
“Lead the way, dearest date,” Callie purred, slotting her slim arm around his waist. She pressed their bodies flush. She smelled nice. His brain was too overwhelmed to pick out the scent, but it was nice and appealing and he sort of wanted to taste it, even though he obviously couldn’t taste anything.
Carefully, very carefully, he fitted his arm around Callie’s waist too. It was firmer than he expected, and his fingers did brush a light bit of padding along the hips. Not much, though. Those curves were mostly natural, then. Or perhaps it was just the cut of the dress, making Claude look curvier than he was.
“No gloves today? I’m honored,” she purred against his shoulder, a cute and mischievous smile pulling at her glossy lips.
“I’m still wearing gloves.” He double-checked to make sure. White, formal gloves covered the scars on his hands.
“No gauntlets. Is that more accurate, my Prince?”
“Y-yes.” He stared straight ahead, and not at Callie’s cute smile. Maybe referring to Claude with female pronouns was a bad idea. His stomach was twisting and churning, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was disturbed by this situation or if he was experiencing the infamous ‘butterflies’ that everyone spoke so much about. Claude was a man. Dimitri could not marry a man. He was Prince of Faerghus and had a duty to continue his family line (whether he wanted to or not).
“Relax, you’re so stiff.” Callie’s hand moved up his waist. Her dexterous digits dug into the tight spots in his back, deftly massaging each spot. “Better?”
“B-better.” He gulped roughly, nearly running into a wall. Callie pulled him away with a giggle. A giggle! It was such a cute noise too.
Goddess, what did he get himself into?
“Hel-lo there, beautiful! Damn Dimitri, I’m impressed.”
Sylvain’s date — Mercedes — giggled. “Sylvain, you’ll make a girl feel jealous. Who is your date again?”
“You know that’s me, baby.” Sylvain blew Mercedes a kiss. Mercedes looked at Sylvain like one might look at a cute puppy, or an endearing younger brother.
“Hello, Mercedes. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Sylvain thought I would make you more comfortable.”
“Hey, you weren’t supposed to tell him that…”
His smile softened. “That was thoughtful of you, Sylvain.”
“Psh, me? Thoughtful? Well, I’ll take the praise if you’re giving it! Totally didn’t use this as an excuse to actually get Mercedes to go out with me. Nope.”
He rolled his eyes. Everyone (except maybe Claude) knew Sylvain was laying it on thick. “Regardless, I hope we have a lovely dinner tonight. Oh, um. This is my date. Um. Clarissa. Or Callie for short.” Blast, he was blushing again. He just got that under control.
“Please to meet you both,” Callie said, giving a cute little curtsy.
Sylvain frowned. “I don’t remember seeing you around the monastery. Are you a student?”
“A recent transfer to the lower classes.” She giggled, resting her head against his shoulders. “I was flattered when Dimitri asked me to dinner.”
“I, um, I had to ask someone…” He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, especially not Callie’s. “You actually refer to me by name, not my title.” A bit of a stretch. Claude rarely called him ‘Dimitri’. The fake titles Claude always referred to him with were just as warm as his own name, though, and it was a warmth he craved.
“Oh, so that’s what did it! Good to know.” He made the mistake of glancing at her. Her vivid green eyes were fixed on him, slanted in a knowing, cat-like crescent. “Of course I used your name, Dimitri. You’re more than just your title.”
“I couldn’t agree more!” Mercedes said. She was the only person in his everyday life who actually used his name.
They entered the restaurant. It was decently fancy, though nothing over the top. The tables were lit with candlelight. Perhaps that would not have been notable, were it not for how the light brought a warmth to Callie’s face. Her eyes glimmered like gemstones. As soon as they took their seat, Callie leaned her head against his shoulder. She cuddled up to his side. He wobbled a smile at her, curling his arm around her waist before he even had the chance to think. Was that the right course of action? She splayed her fingers against his hand, a silent ‘Yes, stay like this’. He gulped and nodded, his hand laying directly on her hip. On the dress! Which had padding. But Goddess, there wasn’t much padding.
Sylvain was smirking at him. He couldn’t even muster the ability to glare at the redhead.
“See, Your Highness? Told you this would be fun.”
“Uh-huh.” The room was boiling. Callie didn’t seem to notice that he was starting to sweat, or maybe she just didn’t care. Every point of contact between them was a livewire. It was too much and not enough at the same time.
Someone came to take their order. He just asked for whatever Callie got. Mercedes and Sylvain chattered, and sometimes Callie’s melodic voice replied. Just how did Claude reach such a beautiful vocal tone?
At some point, Callie elbowed him. “Feeling okay, Dimitri?” she whispered.
“I’m great!” he did not whisper. Clearing his throat, he reached out for the provided water. The moment his hand wrapped around it, the glazed ceramic cup cracked. His hand jerked away from it before he could break it further. Blast. He would be sure to leave enough money to have that cup replaced.
“Oh, allow me.” Callie’s delicate yet strong fingers curled around the cup. She lifted it to his lips, bidding him to drink. She fed him slow, careful sips. Somehow he managed to avoid choking or spontaneously combusting.
“Thank you,” he croaked. He didn’t dare look at his classmates.
“I swear you look familiar, Callie.”
“Please, call me Clarissa,” she sweetly told Sylvain, prompting Mercedes to laugh.
“Ouch. Well, Clarissa, I swear I’ve seen you around before.”
“Well…” She slipped a long wavy lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers twitched to smooth out one of her curls. How soft was her hair? “You have something of a reputation, I’m afraid. After you drunkenly asked me out last month and I turned you down, I thought it best to avoid you.”
He jolted. “Sylvain. What have I told you about harassing women!?” It completely slipped his mind that Callie’s story had to be fictional.
“Whoa, easy! That was last month, we only started our little agreement a week ago! Relax. I’m sure it was a big misunderstanding.”
Callie giggled. “Oh, he wasn’t too bad. Not my type, though.” She turned her big green eyes on him. “A sweet guy like you? I couldn’t say no to that.” Her mischievous eyes turned knowingly to Mercedes. “He was very cute when he stumbled over his words asking me out.”
“I—I didn’t—” he tried to say, stumbling over his words.
She giggled, the corners of her eyes scrunching in a way that was so rare to see on Claude. “You’re very charming, don’t worry about it.”
Food came. He ate. Callie also ate. Every one of her little nibbles and bites captivated him. When her eyes slid over to him and curled, he stared down at his half-eaten plate. He didn’t even know what he was eating. He ate it anyway.
Before he knew it, they were outside the restaurant. Sylvain was still smug. Callie was still wrapped around his side. He might have left his brain behind in their booth, but it seemed silly to go back and search for it.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Clarissa.” Sylvain bowed, reaching out to kiss Callie’s hand.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Sylvain smoothly withdrew the hand snaking towards Callie. “I’ll see you next week,” Sylvain said to Callie. “You’ll bring her again, won’t you, Your Highness?”
“I, uh—”
“Oh, that would be lovely!” Mercedes smiled at Callie. “You’ll have to tell me how you made your eyes pop like that. I’m so excited to make this a regular thing!”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed in a daze. “Next week.”
“That’s what I like to hear! Might I have a kiss, Mercedes?”
“Heehee, of course not, silly!”
Sylvain hung his head. “Had to try. How about you, Clarissa? If Dimitri is leaving you wanting, my lips are free.”
A surge of intense emotion spurred him to pull Callie in by the waist and plant his lips against hers. It wasn’t until their lips met that he remembered he had no idea how to kiss. His eyes shot wide with panic. Callie’s eyes met his with reassurance. Her lips parted just a little, her hand reaching up to card through his hair. A quiet moan left him as he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips against his. It was a relatively chaste thing, his first kiss. It was wonderful. Pulling back, he stared at her with awe. Goddess, her green eyes were so pretty.
Wait. Callie was Claude. He just…
“And that’s the signal for us to leave. Have fun, Dimitri! See you next week, Clarissa!”
Sylvain and Mercedes left. He was stuck in place. He just… Wow. That was a kiss alright. He just. He just kissed Callie. So that was why people kissed. It was good. Better than good? He could barely think. Goddess… her lips were so soft.
“I thought this was a one-time thing?” Callie murmured thoughtfully, as though they didn’t just share a kiss. “But I don’t mind doing this next week too.”
Next week. Next… week. “...That dastard. He tricked me.” He would have slapped his face, but that hand was currently wrapped around Callie’s waist. “I didn’t mean to agree to that.”
She giggled, slotting her chin over his shoulder. “That’s okay. I had fun today, Di-mi-tri.” he shivered at the way she said his name.
“O-oh. So long as you don’t mind…”
“I’ve made a horrible mistake,” he admitted to his ceiling later that night. He could still feel Callie’s warmth against him. Claude’s warmth. His bare fingers traced his lips. He couldn’t taste, but he swore he could taste her — his — lips. In the dark, he didn’t see his father or other ghastly shapes. Not tonight. He saw the sway of Callie’s hips, the flutter of Callie’s eyelashes, the ghost of her smile. Her giggles and melodic voice echoed through his ears. When he closed his eyes, he saw her.
Except he didn’t see her at all. How could he? ‘She’ didn’t exist. That was Claude.
Eventually he fell asleep, somehow. He woke dazed and disoriented, flutters and fragments of arousing dreams lingering against the surface of his brain and sheets. He didn’t dream of Callie or Claude, he dreamt of Callie and Claude. Both of them, pressing against him, taking turns kissing him…
But that was fine. It would pass. He could be normal about this. He cleaned himself, dressed, and left his room.
“Morning, Your Princeliness.”
Oh no. He couldn’t be normal about this.
“Ca—laude. Good morning, Claude.” He tried to make eye contact. Callie’s beautiful green eyes stared right back at him. His lips wobbled into a tight squiggle. Claude’s face was back to normal. Still angular and slim, the curves less soft. It was still a lovely shape… The hair! Claude’s hair wasn’t nearly as wavy, now it was back to his typical bed-head. His chestnut locks still looked so soft, though… Claude’s eyebrows were back to being patchy and endearing. His eyelashes weren’t as long and full, but they still fluttered with every blink.
“Now that’s interesting…” Claude tilted his head and thumbed his chin, eyeing him with sharp, brilliant emeralds. He gulped. Was he blushing? He was surely blushing. “Did I lay it on too thick yesterday?”
“N-no, it’s fine. I’m perfectly normal, aha! I mean, ahem, you were perfectly normal about it all. It’s fine.” Goddess bury him now. He slapped a hand over his face and sighed. Closing his eyes helped. “I apologize, Claude. I didn’t sleep well. I’m making a fool of myself.”
“Quite the contrary.” Why did Claude sound incredibly close? Closing his eyes was a mistake. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’re rather smitten with Callie.” Why did he feel Claude’s hand on his chest?! “Let’s take a step back inside to chat about this, mm?” Claude effortlessly pushed him back into his room.
“Why, in the Goddess’ good name, do you know how to dress and act like that?” he choked out as soon as he heard the door shut, not daring to open his eyes.
“Hey, a guy’s gotta have a diverse skill set. Contouring is shockingly helpful when you don’t want to be recognized. Same thing when it comes to altering your gait.” Sure. But Claude knew how to feminize himself, and do it well! That wasn’t just altering his walk, Claude mimicked the subtle sway of a woman’s walk perfectly. “I really got to you yesterday.”
“Blast. Maybe a little.” There was no use denying it. He hardly remembered anything that wasn’t Claude or Callie from the date. “I must have looked like such a fool yesterday.”
“Nah. It was endearing. Puppy love at first sight.”
Claude smelled nice. He snapped his eyes open, hoping desperately he would cease smelling Claude if his eyes had something to latch on to. All he got was Claude’s cute cheeky smile. He thumped onto his bed and groaned into his hands.
“Is it really that bad?” Claude settled down beside him, their hips flush. Why did that excite him so? His hands itched to grab Claude and pull him closer.
“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you this.”
“Oooo, secret! That’s an easy promise to make. Won’t laugh, promise.”
He stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t… I don’t usually… find women attractive. I understand the theory behind it all. However, as inconvenient as it is for a prince, I have never once looked at a woman and felt anything deeper.” His next words stuck in his throat.
“Could have fooled me yesterday.”
“Yeah,” he croaked. “I’ve never found a woman attractive… until yesterday.” In a fit of madness, he grabbed both of Claude’s shoulders and shook the man. “Claude! The one and only time I have ever felt anything for a woman, she was you! A man in a dress! You did this to me!”
“W-whoa, whoa, easy!” He stopped shaking Claude. “Don’t take your anger out on the cute guy who knows how to wear a dress.”
He turned and thumped his face into his pillow. “I’m not angry,” he muffled to Claude.
“What was that?” Of course Claude followed him, laying beside him on the bed now. Damn, he was going to be thinking about laying in bed with Claude all day.
“I’m not angry,” he sighed into the pillow, lifting his face just enough so Claude could hear him. He was confused. Mentally, morally, and especially sexually. Why did Claude have to make such a cute girl?
“Phew, that’s a relief. You did seem like you enjoyed yourself yesterday.”
“I did,” he admitted. “You’re very… mfhfhg.”
“What was that? I don’t speak ‘muffled into pillow’, sorry.”
He laid his head sideways, staring at Claude with utter defeat in his eyes. “I said, you’re very charming and cute.” His defeated voice was punctuated with a sigh.
“D’aw, thanks. A fella loves to hear it! Though maybe add a little more pep in your voice. Sounds like you’re going to a funeral. Or like you’re just eternally suffering.”
“That’s because I am suffering. I need a woman to carry on my lineage, Claude. You know how this works. My entire life, the most I have ever felt for any girl was a weak childhood crush. Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under to find a good wife to marry and have children with?” Adding onto that pressure was that he needed a woman he wouldn’t feel bad for widowing; which conflicted with wanting a good mother for his children. “Unless you tell me you can magically carry children, I’m still at an impasse.”
“Maybe I can.”
“Can you?!” He whirled to look Claude directly in the eyes. How?! Did he even care how?! If Claude could—
“Nope.”
…He should have seen that coming. He walked right into that one.
"Sorry, wanted to see what you would say. Now I feel like I kicked a puppy." Claude patted his head. “So, you’ve gone and fallen in love with a mirage. I’m no doctor, but I’m sure this little love-sickness will pass.”
“I pray you’re correct.” Rolling so his back was against the bed, he intended to stare at his ceiling and contemplate the universe. Instead, he was pulled in by Claude’s adorable grin. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I’m enjoying this a perfectly reasonable amount, thank you very much. You know how to flatter a fella.” Claude booped his nose. Truly, he must be as ‘sick’ as Claude said. There was no other excuse for why he wanted to hold Claude’s hand against his face. “Give it some time, Your Princeliness. This will all blow over.”