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“That was quite the sigh. Long day at work?”
Sylvain watched Dorothea glance up from slipping off her heels, her gaze cutting through the foyer and settling on the living room couch where he was lounging. One side of her mouth quirked up in a half-hearted smile. “Something like that,” she said, depositing her keys and purse onto the side table.
He was quick to stand, striding across the floor and coming to a stop at her side, helping her out of her coat. “Sorry to hear. Do you want to talk about it?” Up close Sylvain could see the loose, misbehaving strands of Dorothea’s hair falling askew, the tension that stiffened her shoulders, the worry lines creasing her forehead. Still, her expression lit up at the sight of him.
“Not particularly,” she admitted, pinching the back of her neck, her nerves apparent as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“In that case,” Sylvain started, flashing her a smirk, “I’ve got something else that ought to cheer you up. No words required.” He raised his arms over his head, taking hold of his shirt and slipping it off in one smooth, well-practiced motion. Dorothea’s eyes widened in brief surprise, a soft pink flush painting her cheeks. Sylvain shrugged, raising his arms and watching her expectantly. “Well? Feeling better yet?”
After taking a moment to look him over—every second that she stared fueled his definitely-healthy ego—she took a slow step forward, skimming her fingertips over his chest. “Slightly,” she murmured, before wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her soft cheek to his firm muscle.
He returned the embrace, unable to resist a smile. “Welcome home. Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?”
—
Dorothea let out another sigh—this time of the blissful variety—and nestled herself even closer to Sylvain’s side, her breath warm on his skin. They’d been sprawled out on the bed for at least fifteen minutes now, devoid of any conversation or further questions. “Thank you for being so patient,” Dorothea said, her voice soft and relaxed; sleepy, but no longer rumbling with exhaustion.
“Of course,” Sylvain said, tracing his nails along the space between her shoulder blades. “Always happy to be your emotional support tiddies,” he added with a wry chuckle, barely giving the phrase a second thought.
But the atmosphere of the room changed in an instant. “What,” Dorothea mumbled, her body stiffening near-imperceptibly.
“Hm?” he squeaked, feigning innocence. Damn him and his stupid mouth. He should have remembered that his jokes tended to get mixed reception.
“What did you just say?” Dorothea asked, suddenly sounding very awake.
He struggled to keep his tone casual. “Uh… always happy to be your emotional support, Thea.”
“No.” She lifted her head from his chest and propped herself up on her elbows, meeting his eyes. “You said emotional support tiddies.”
Well he certainly couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he now regretted the words. “Yes. So I did. Is that… a problem?”
Dorothea scrutinized his face, her expression piercing and unreadable, before she at last said: “So long as you never say it again, it won’t be.”
“What! Why?”
She rose to a seat, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just a weird thing to say, Sylvain.”
“Come on, Thea. As if I’m not constantly saying weird things.” He paused, not sure how to feel about the fact that Dorothea nodded along to the statement. “For what it’s worth, I consider you to be my emotional support—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” she interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. Sylvain admired the slender shape of her hands, too overcome by disbelief to consider this an actual argument. Dorothea just needed to blow off some steam, to relieve whatever stress left her so utterly drained today. The least he could do was play along.
He peered up at her, fluttering his lashes. “Last I checked, you love when I compliment your tits,” he tried, eyes flicking briefly to the low cut of her robe.
Dorothea crossed her arms, pulling her shoulders back to emphasize her curves even more. “I suppose I do.”
“They are superb tits,” Sylvain continued, “capable of a great many things. Including—mmph!” He was cut off by Dorothea’s palm clapping over his mouth. Seriously, what had gotten into her? Not that he didn’t love when she was a little aggressive, but—a little warning would have been nice. Sylvain didn’t have much time to think about it; Dorothea was swinging a leg over him, moving to straddle his hips.
“Careful,” she murmured, though the warning was dulled by a mischievous smile. She slid her hand away slowly, tracing a finger along his jawline. It traveled down through the hollow of his throat, between his collarbones, and stopped at his sternum. Her gaze was set on the well-defined contours of his bare chest.
Yeah, he could work with this. “Like what you see?” he purred, raising his arms and cradling the back of his head in his hands.
But Dorothea rolled her eyes, scoffing. “If I were in search of emotional support tiddies, Sylvain, don’t you think I’d try to find someone who fits the bill better?”
They were still on this bizarre topic, then. Sylvain raised a brow. “I’m sorry. I’m your boyfriend. I assumed I would be at the top of the list by default.”
Dorothea shook with amused, melodic laughter, her hips swaying over him. “Ah, but who wants to win by default?”
Sylvain’s shoulders relaxed down, one arm draping over his eyes as he let out a melodramatic sigh. “Alright, Thea, just reveal who’s bested me already. Put me out of my misery.”
Her giggling continued. “Well, if you must know… My top choice for emotional support—” she heaved another sigh herself. “Tiddies, as you so eloquently put it, is…” Her hands drummed playfully against his abdomen. “Mercedes,” she announced, beaming.
He peeked at her from beneath his forearm, fascinated. There were a million thoughts whirring through his head, and Sylvain was positive that he could voice none of them if he wanted to stay on Dorothea’s good side. “Alright, that’s fair,” he managed.
“Isn’t it?” Dorothea said with a wistful exhale. Her gaze raised to the ceiling, as though calling to the heavens. “If Mercedes would just cradle me in her arms… I think all my problems would go away, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t mind testing that,” Sylvain mumbled, feeling a bit like an afterthought. He wasn’t sure Dorothea even heard him, with how mesmerized she seemed to be by her own suggestion. But her attention eventually returned to him, her head cocking to the side as she let out a contemplative hum. She leaned forward, lowering down to lay her stomach atop his, and rested her chin on her forearms. Her eyes sparkled with a mysterious, almost terrifying excitement.
“My next choice would be… Dedue, probably.”
Sylvain let out a clipped, accepting laugh. “Yeah. Can’t blame you for that one, either.”
“And then Caspar,” she added.
Huh? “Wait, how long is this list?!” he sputtered.
“Then Hilda and Claude… Edelgard and Petra…”
“Thea…”
She showed no signs of remorse—in fact, her grin was bordering on sadistic. What did he ever do to deserve this? After all the care he’d put into lifting her spirits... “Raphael and Dimitri… Oh, and Ferdie, of course!”
“Dorothea, please,” he cut in. “If you keep up like this, I’m going to be the one who needs emotional support.”
Her face softened with sympathy, though he couldn’t help but be suspicious of the display. “Oh, Sylvain,” she cooed, sliding forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You are far too fun to tease.”
He rested his hands on the small of her back, instinctively holding her closer. “Would be nice if it was easier to tell when you’re teasing,” he said, inhaling the pleasant scent of her hair. He needed to stop being so pathetically in love with this girl—she was beginning to take advantage.
Yeah, as if that was ever going to happen.
“No need to be dramatic,” she whispered, pulling back to meet his eyes. Another perfect finger reached up to fiddle with his bangs, a manicured nail tracing his hairline. “For what it’s worth, you are ranked above Hubert and Felix.”
He frowned; that was a can of worms he didn’t want to open. In fact, he wanted to go back in time and avoid this entire conversation. “But not Ferdinand?” he asked, unable to resist.
Dorothea pinched her chin between her fingers, feigning consideration. “Well… when I think about it, that one’s a tie. Does that make you feel better?”
It didn’t make him feel better and she knew it. “Alright, look,” Sylvain started, his voice laced with exasperation. “I promise I’ll never say ‘emotional support tiddies’ ever again. Happy?”
Dorothea let out the most contented purr of approval he’d ever heard, rolling off of him and resuming their earlier cuddling. Her arm found his waist and she rested her head back on his chest, curled up like a satisfied cat. “The happiest,” she assured him, eyes fluttering closed. Sylvain relaxed at the way she melted into him—perfectly at ease, her body softening and her breath slowing into a steady rhythm as she began to doze off.
Maybe Dorothea was right—maybe she did have plenty of better options to choose from. But she’d chosen him, and Sylvain was pretty sure that was what counted.