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1196
Sylvain can admit that nearly letting the cat out of the bag right as Felix was about to go back to his own time was perhaps not his finest move.
In his defense, whoops! It just kind of slipped out! He’s been so good at hiding everything for the past day and a half, it’s only natural that something would wind up falling through the cracks.
Oh well. It’ll still definitely take their past selves entirely too long to figure themselves out, Sylvain’s sure of that. And it was worth it, anyway, just to see that little flash of hopeful elation on Felix’s face—mixed, of course, with a healthy dose of confused fury.
Welp, that’s a problem for his younger self.
In the here and now: there’s a flash of light, just like all those years ago, and then there’s Felix, his Felix, back again. He’s on his feet this time (you can’t fool him twice, Felix will always land on his feet if he knows what to expect), looking remarkably unruffled for a guy who’s just been shot ten years into the past and back again. When they lock eyes, his expression melts in pure relief that Sylvain knows is mirrored on his own face.
Even after all these years, it still takes him by surprise—that things can work out in the end, that he’s somehow been allowed to wind up happy.
“There you are,” Sylvain calls, far more casual than he actually feels. “Did you have fun hanging out with everyone for a bit?”
Felix ignores the question, which means he did.
Instead of answering, he busies himself with far more important matters—grabbing Sylvain by the front of his shirt and dragging him down into a kiss that’s slow and sweet and exactly like home. Distantly, Sylvain thinks he might hear Byleth laughing.
Even when he draws back, Felix keeps Sylvain close, still lightly gripping his shirt. Just the right side of possessive, just the way Sylvain likes it.
“You had such an embarrassing crush on me back then,” Felix says. He looks terribly pleased about it.
“Still do, if you can believe it. Hope you’ll forgive me.”
“You really had it bad.” Felix is as close to giddy as Sylvain’s ever seen him. “Horrendous, actually. It was so—obvious.”
Obvious to everyone except you, Sylvain kindly does not say, because he loves his husband very much. Plus, he can already hear the sentiment in Felix’s voice, the unspoken, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”
“Cough cough,” says Byleth, who is suddenly standing right next to them. Like—she doesn’t fake cough, she actually says the words ‘cough cough’ out loud. “I don’t mean to interrupt your reunion, but could somebody get the pregnant lady a cup of tea? Time travel magic is thirsty work.”
Felix ducks his head into Sylvain’s shoulder to muffle a laugh. “You’re a terrible host,” he says, like he isn’t an even worse one.
“See what happens when you’re gone?” Sylvain presses a quick kiss to the top of Felix’s head. “Whole house falls apart.”
He turns back to Byleth, smiling genuine and thankful. “Tea for the pregnant lady, coming up.”