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Presents. [ Repeating someone isn't the best way to sound like there's any understanding of what's going on, but Claude can't help but do that and then immediately raise an eyebrow with it after that kiss that'd threatened to sweep him away in it ends. ] That means dinner isn't the present?

[ It should be, considering he's also entirely certain of the amount of effort Sylvain had to have put in for whatever's planned and he's not going to indulge any suggestions about whether it hasn't turned out. Turning slightly in his seat reveals that yes, there are presents even before the other man sets them in front of him. There's a smile on his face he doesn't bother doing anything with other than just letting it be as he takes them both in.

Not that they reveal much from the packaging - just that this is another demonstration of careful thought Sylvain's put into this as he runs his fingers one the paper on one and then the other before looking back up. ]

Which one do I start with?

No, dinner is dinner silly. The presents come with bows. There’s a huge difference.

[ There’s laughter in his voice as he sinks down into the chair besides Claude and takes in his expression as he examines the two packages before him.

The question just gets a grin and a shrug from the redhead, however. ]

Whichever one you feel inclined to start with. there isn’t a wrong or right choice here. They’re both yours, after all.

[ Whichever one Claude chooses to start with, Sylvain will definitely not be fidgeting nervously in his chair, hoping the other man likes them after all. Even though he’s pretty sure he will.

In the smaller of the two presents, Claude will open up a carefully wrapped package of loose-leaf tea. It won’t be hard to pick up on the familiar scent of pine needles and a deeper, smokier flavor layered underneath. It had taken him weeks of experimenting to get a blend as close to replicating Almyran Pine as he could, and it still wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was close as he could currently get and hopefully it would be close enough for Claude, since he knew how fond he was of the flavor. He could have gone for something easier but this… he’d wanted this one to be special.

The second package, the large square one, is clearly much more ornate as Claude unwraps it. Inside, he’ll find a hand-carved chess set, the box itself serving as both the container and board, when fully opened. But it’s the chess pieces themselves that Sylvain had gone out to have custom-made. Instead of the typical black and white chess pieces one would expect, these are made in metals of silver and gold. And the kings of each set are unique as well. The silver king is carved with the head of a lion and the gold? A mighty antlered stag. ]

[ Here's the eye roll Sylvain's expecting to that explanation considering they both know that's not what he meant or was implying, but it's paired with a smile still playing about his mouth. If there's no direction to be had here, then he'll start with the smallest one since it's on top and waiting. Not without a teasing and possibly vaguely sarcastic tap of that bow before Claude slides fingertips beneath the paper, of course.

It hardly takes longer than breaching said paper for a whiff of something he knows well to hit him. It's stronger than anything he's found in the markets - and far more to what he knows from home than whatever weak stand-ins for that specific pine. There's a short laugh from him, the kind which says someone doesn't know what to say rather than that there's anything funny, but Claude can't stop to think of words when he's already reaching to pick up the package. He stops short of burying his face in it while holding it up for a better inhale to hide a small smile of a different kind - not that the temptation to do that isn't there - and it smells like home.

If he were the type to be more outwardly sentimental, this would be the part where he'd admit to this alone putting a lump in the back of his throat. But it's rude to keep a gift giver waiting, especially when said gift giver is busy pretending like he's successfully resisting the urge to fidget in that chair next to him, so he sets the pouch down for safekeeping while reaching for the next wrapped box.

There's a telltale rattle Claude thinks he almost recognizes as he accidentally tips it too far one direction and it reveals there's something inside before the paper's out of the way, and when there's a chessboard looking back at him he almost laughs. This time out of delight considering this one is far nicer than the one he'd picked up in the markets some time ago now, and he reaches for the storage to check the pieces.

They don't disappoint when the candlelight catches them and the materials glint. It's something Sylvain put a lot of thought into and apparent as Claude picks up the smaller pieces to examine them one by one before moving to the larger ones. That's when his fingers close first upon the lion and then upon the stag, and there's a long moment where both rest in his palm with his gaze upon them. This is, he thinks, one of those rare times where he understands what his mother meant when she'd say her heart was too full about something.

Too full for jokes, too full for words, even too full for overthinking - nothing to do but to set the pieces down safely before reaching to put both hands on either side of Sylvain's face to pull him in for a kiss for everything unsaid in those moments and what he's come to understand are all the others before. ]

Edited 2023-08-09 01:43 (UTC)

[ Sylvain watches him unwrap his gifts with baited breath, grinning and the delighted laugh he gets at the scent of the pine that wafts from the tea blend. Nocwich’s pines weren’t quite the same as the Almyran kind Claude was more familiar with, he knows, but he hopes the other underlying scents are enough to make up for any differences. To say Sylvain was a bit of perfectionist when it came to throwing this blend was an understatement, but the look on Claude’s face when he breathes in the scent is enough to make it all worth it.

And then he moves onto the second one and by this time Sylvain is chewing on his lower lip as he watches. It’s evident the moment Claude realizes how the pieces are different by how still he goes, how he stares down at the pair of kings he holds in his palm. It’s enough to make Sylvain almost go back to fidgeting again.

But then Claude’s hands are pressed to either side of his face and he’s being tugged in for a kiss and he goes eagerly, because he rarely denies Claude anything, and certainly never this. His lips are warm and firm and he thinks there’s something different in this kiss. In the way Claude leans into him, in whatever the man is trying to express in the press of his lips.

It’s just gratitude, Sylvain tells himself, kissing him back deeply, letting one of his hands come to rest at the nape of Claude’s neck, even if there’s a wistful little shiver of pleasure that slides down his spine.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough to rest his forehead against the other man’s, his cheeks a little flushed and a warm, sheepish grin lingering on his lips as he meets bright green eyes. ]

Should I take that to mean you liked your presents, then?

No, not at all. How very dare you outdo my thoughtful gift of a knife sharpener to you.

[ Well - there was always going to be a limit to not putting a joke in somewhere before too much time goes by. And it is a joke and not anything he means since the very apparent smile on his face will make that clear, as will all the times they've been teasing each other back and forth matching up with this.

There's something to how easy this feels even if he knows they both have plenty they're still hiding. While he knows his own, he can only somewhat guess at Sylvain's in the glimpses he's seen here and there. Some of that surfaces in that mildly flustered look on the other man's face right now and the other times he's seen it appear over something not anticipated, like being faced with this despite how they've both fallen into it is a surprise. Something Claude can relate to since much about this feels like it isn't real even if he also doesn't face the temptation to argue with himself about it anymore like he had for so long.

So maybe it's that internal sentimentality acknowledging that it is is what has him tilting up for another kiss, this one shorter but no less warm, and as best he can without breaking the contact they have even as he shifts to move his hands to Sylvain's jaw to cradle it. Like Sylvain's a present in and of himself, something valuable and treasured tow here he doesn't want to let go or pull away. Someone important for more reasons than he can find the words for, but it's all of that which makes this so much easier. ]

This means I expect you to help me break in this board considering I think that's only right. Don't think I'll go any easier on you just because of all the thought you put into this, though.

[ Including that, because this is still a simpler way of saying what he wants to in something more roundabout to get there. ]

[ Sylvain just laughs at the joke, leaning in to steal a kiss of his own, shifting and spreading his legs to either side of Claude’s knees as he leans in close from the chair beside his, although he’s facing Claude now more than the table itself. ]

Hey, that was a very useful present! I used it this afternoon, in fact.

[ Still, there’s something in the way Claude’s hands linger against his jaw that has his own flush deepening a shade, something he mentally curses, because he is way too old to be blushing like a virgin over a compliment. But it feels… different, even if he can’t put his finger on how right now. It does have his sheepish smile softening into something fond and warm, though, even as he gives a quiet chuckle at Claude’s comment. ]

Well, I wasn’t about to make you play yourself. Although I definitely caught you doing that once or twice back at the Academy. And I definitely don’t expect you to make anything easy on me by this point, so that doesn’t come as a surprise either. I would hardly expect you to start with this.

[ The hint of relief in his gaze over Claude’s delight at his present, however, is still visible as he grins at him. ]

[ Useful wasn't really the point of what he was aiming for here, even if it had been at the time. He'd wanted to choose something that would help Sylvain, but it's hard to not feel like there's a world of difference between that and the care put into crafting his favorite tea. Not that it's a competition or anywhere close, nor that it lessens any part of anything, just - there's still plenty in there going unsaid.

Things he'll hold back to himself, even as Sylvain kisses him again and it's impossible to not smile over that and how he moves closer like what little space between them here at the table is still too much. Or the look on the other's face as Claude traces a thumb over a pinkened cheek with care, the only comment he'll offer on that since he'd rather focus on the smile sent his way.

Until he has to scoff, of course. ]

Hey now, don't slander my method of learning strategies! Not only was it good practice, but it paid off in more ways than one including still being sharp enough to give you a good challenge now. [ Maybe also in more ways than one, sort of, but Claude's not going to mention that part aloud. ] But if you're saying you'd like it to be even more of a challenge, well...

[ He could manage that! Claude also knows it's not what Sylvain's saying at all, but that grin rapidly became something he'd gladly do just about anything for to keep it there and shining brightly, and now's no exception. ]

You never did take me up on that offer of strip chess, way back when.

[ It’s said teasingly enough, a reference to an offhand flirtation they’d exchanged one afternoon back in the gardens in their academy days. It had been a terrible line, even for him in those days, but that had been the point. Although getting to see a naked Claude would have hardly been a hardship, even then. ]

Although I suspect you’d be getting the better end of that dare, whether it had been back then or now - we both know my chess skills are okay, but I’d just be happy to give you a challenge.

[ His grin is still lingering, amused and fond, and he leans in to steal another kiss before pulling back and pushing to his feet once more. ]

We can see after dinner, maybe? In the meantime, hold that thought. Dinner should be ready.

Are you re-offering strip chess now? That'd also be a nice present.

[ Fired back immediately, because that's too good of an opportunity to just let pass right on by without any comment. Even more so since there's now a theme going here and since he remembers that line and all the others too well, and maybe if he wasn't still busy holding onto Sylvain's face he'd add some other kind of gesture here to the board like pushing it forward to dare the other right into that no longer quite a dare, but something close it it.

When it comes to who'd get the better deal out of it, Claude just hums in response. He's pretty sure he doesn't have to elaborate that he's confident in his skills - and really, part of the present would absolutely be stripping Sylvain of his clothes one item at a time.

For now, though, he lets that pass by since that's teasing they can pursue another time if not in five minutes after Sylvain settles what he needs to do. Claude happily returns that kiss before letting the other man go. There's a second where he leans back in his seat then thinks better of it, and carefully picks up both of his gifts to put them down on the sideboard where they'll be out of the way. ]

Some chess - strip or not - and tea to go with it sounds rather nice, but that can wait until you're done spoiling me with your chef skills first.

[ Sylvain just laughs as he heads back into the kitchen. The side dishes are already set on the table - a selection of steamed or stir-fried vegetables, some pasta with a creamy sauce, some fresh-baked spice bread.

But it’s the main course that Sylvain had spent the most work on and it’s this platter he carries back to set down in front of Claude a moment later. He’s sure the other man will recognize the familiar scent of roast pheasant with berry sauce. Well. Mostly. He had to substitute the pheasant with a breed of desert grouse native to the wilds around Cadens, but with the right spices, he thinks he got it pretty close.

Fortunately, the dish had always been one of his favorites, too, so he had plenty of opinions on how to make it as close to perfect as he could get. Actually, he’s pretty sure he’d been a way harsher critic in all his taste-testing than Claude would have ever been.

But setting the platter down, he casts the other man a grin, pleased with how the food, at least, had turned out. ]

I hope you’re hungry. I might have gone a little overboard…

[ Once he's left to his own devices for a minute, it's tempting to lean over and help himself to a sample of the dish dishes by pilfering a vegetable or a noodle while the other man's back is relatively turned. But Claude waits since that would spoil the full effect - and even more so when the effort's difficult to miss. All of it for today, he's telling himself, since it's still a bit too much to fully acknowledge it's for him.

That's before the main course makes it to the table. Suddenly why it smelled so familiar becomes clear with that reveal, and he grins widely as he sits forward to get a better view. Because one is definitely required for that, for some proper appreciation of everything, before he looks up to meet Sylvain's grin with his own. ]

A little, he says. I think you might've outdone me ordering at the restaurant in Aquila, and especially so since you made all this.

[ There's no hiding the fondness in his voice so Claude can't obscure, so it's simply there. One less hidden thing or anything he feels the need to play off as something else, and Claude leans over to nudge Sylvain's chair out a little farther for him to be seated again. ]

Everything looks amazing, Sylvain. That's just the start of the praise to come, by the way, once we get to dig into everything.

[ Sylvain just grins cheekily and sinks back down into the chair Claude had nudged out for him. He waves off that praise with a laugh, looking a little self-conscious about it, in fact. ]

You say that now but the whole thing could be terrible and I’ll have to ban myself from the kitchen from here on out.

[ He doesn’t think that’s likely, but it’s easier to joke in light of the look Claude is giving him and the quiet flutter of delight he feels that his efforts this afternoon look like they might have paid off after all.

But for the moment, he just leans in close to drop a kiss on Claude’s lips, his expression fond and indulgent. ]

Happy Birthday.

[ Clearly the only response to such a statement is to suddenly look alarmed. Very alarmed, even, as Claude makes a point of peering around the other man like there's something concealed behind him. Then to the counters and cabinets for good measure, too, before that feigned suspicious look gets turned back upon Sylvain. ]

Wait a minute. When'd Flayn get summoned here so you could recruit her for helping you since you're so worried about this somehow being terrible despite all appearances of it not being that?

[ Flayn, of course, couldn't hope to create anything close to this no matter how much assistance she'd had or enthusiasm she put into it. The memories of the meals in the dining hall on nights when she'd tried to help - those certainly aren't the fond part, but teasing Flayn over it until she flustered had been for Claude.

He could run with that some more and entirely means to, but then Sylvain's mouth is on his again after he catches that look before it. Rather than break it he hums a small pleased noise into it to match that matching feeling washing over him that lingers when the other pulls back and Claude raises a hand cup the side of that handsome face again. ]

Thank you, [ said quietly and no less fondly, ] for everything.

[ Sylvain's expression twists into a grimace as he gives a mildly horrified shudder. ]

The only person scarier to let into my kitchen than you. Why would you even speak that into being a possibility?

[ Still, his good mood right now is impossible to dim and he lingers at that kiss for a long moment. If only because he loves the expression on Claude's face right now and could probably look at it for hours, like the ridiculous sap he was apparently becoming. Ugh.

But he does smile and sit back, his dark eyes warm, even as he reaches out to pluck up a serving knife and offer it to the birthday boy. ]

You're welcome. I'm just glad you liked it.

[ That look and shudder make it all worth it, not that he's never needed a reason to justify his teasing (or to find it justifiable), but there's a specific kind of pleasure even aside from the ones in Sylvain lingering close and the kiss neither one of them seem ready to let go of just yet. It's the sort of thing which quiets even Claude from the contentment of where a simple moment feels like a completion to a thought, a sentence, an idea he hadn't known was left unfinished before now. Before all of this, really.

He should move back, do something which won't lead to the meal so thoughtfully prepared growing cold, but that feels too difficult. It's a riddle solved for him by Sylvain making that move in reaching for the knife which he takes in hand with a grin. ]

I think it's only fair that the chef gets served first, don't you?

[ Claude's not going to let any chance go by for Sylvain to protest that with anything more than words since he's busy first reaching for the other man's plate like it's a critical part of this move (since it is) and then carving off some slices of the pheasant. Though after placing the first one onto Sylvain's plate, he also helpfully uses the knife now to point with a mildly haphazard wave towards the side dishes around afterwards, since - ]

I'll let you decide what else you want me to try first of everything else you've chosen to spoil me with, or else if I find something that's my new favorite I might not be willing to share it.

I’m pretty sure that rule gets tossed out the window when it’s meant to be celebrating your birthday.

[ His tone is wry, but he doesn’t make any move to interrupt Claude or actually stop him. In fact, he leans back in his chair with an indulgent smile and a fond chuckle as he watches, shaking his head when Claude starts waving the serving knife around.

Carefully, he reaches out and rescues it once Claude is done serving up the roast fowl - not that he distrusts Claude with sharp pointy objects (mostly) but just to get it out of the way as he reaches for a large bowl of stir-fried vegetables, adding them to Claude’s plate along with the main course. ]

There, try that. And whatever else you want. I made plenty so you can sample whatever you like and I’m pretty sure we’ll still be enjoying leftovers for days.

Well, if you wanna go that route. I think it being my birthday means I get to decide the rules. I'm pretty sure that's how that works.

[ Even if it's not, it will be now just as the tone of his voice implies even as he's stripped of knife privilege. Something he doesn't protest since it's really all about the food at this moment in time, and Sylvain successfully distracts him anyway with the presence of more food on his plate from everything around. One of the options, anyway, since he eyes the remainder for a minute and goes for the pasta next. ]

That better mean I'm not gonna get judged for eating a plate of leftover pheasant in the middle of night since there's gonna be so many leftovers.

[ A better midnight snack than most of the things he rustles up, or at least a far less messy one than most of the ones he attempts to clean up before the evidence can be found in the morning by the kitchen's proper caretaker. It's not an empty threat, anyway, since after putting some noodles on his plate and then Sylvain's, Claude wastes no time in picking up his fork and knife to tackle the bird first to try a sizable bite. One that has him sitting back in his chair, actually quiet for once by something that's familiar just like the tea so thoughtfully created for him. Just as this was, really. ]

Gods. I don't know why you let me try to make anything around here when you're capable of this.

Have I ever judged you for your midnight snack binges? [ A pause, even as he shoots Claude an indulgent smile. ] Well, okay, I judge you when you make a mess in my kitchen for me to find the next morning, but otherwise you can snack all you like.

[ He watches Claude take that first bite with an intent look that definitely doesn’t show any of his nerves over it coming out okay, or as close as he could get to how Claude remembered the dish was supposed to taste.

Still, he can’t help but grin at the compliment, a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck in pleasure over the praise. ]

It tastes okay, then?

Do you really want to give me an opportunity to suddenly pretend like I'm choking on a bite because I'm supposedly lying to you and it's awful?

[ Dryly, because he knows that's exactly the opposite of what Sylvain wants. And while Claude's not going to tease him by doing that - probably - that's not going to spare the other man from knowing what he could've walked into with that question, even if Claude also knows what Sylvain's really asking here.

Which is why he does, at least, follow that up by taking another bite after reaching over to squeeze Sylvain's nearest hand. Politely, and with no tricks, because this meal is too good for delaying enjoying it for a second longer. Aside from talking, since, well. Sylvain won't be surprised if he continues on doing that at any point in time. ]

Also, your judgment is harsh! I can't help it that I like combining things creatively while looking for a new kind of snack. You're forgetting I share at least half of the time in there by the time morning rolls around.

Sometimes I think your ‘new snacks’ are almost as scary as Flayn’s attempts at cooking. Some things are just not meant to be combined, Claude.

[ The chiding is offered with fond humor, however, even as he turns his hand over to thread his fingers with Claude’s, even as he takes a bite from his own plate. He’s more pleased that Claude seemed to be enjoying it, rather than his own critical thoughts on what he could have done better. ]

Please don’t choke on your dinner. I might have to give up on cooking forever and then we’d both starve.

Hey, they are not! At least what I make is edible and that places it infinitely ahead of whatever Flayn made. Her cooking didn't get any better during the war, let me tell you.

[ Not that she hadn't tried which counted for a lot in Claude's book, though he (and everyone else) still appreciated the efforts of whoever was on kitchen duty to have her assist with tasks which didn't affect the outcome of the meal. Probably; he'll have to ask Hilda about that. The thought comes automatically as so many have before he remembers the reality right as fingers slide between his own, and Claude focuses on that and who's here in front of him rather than let it in with another grateful squeeze to Sylvain's hand. ]

How's this: don't give up on cooking, or I might actually cry. Again, now that I know about this, [ with a point of his fork to the desert bird, ] I think it might need to go into the rotation a little more often so I can also sing your praises for it more than just right now.

[ Sylvain just snickers at that, although he skips over the mention of the war, not wanting to bring that up here and now. Easier to focus on the present, he thinks, than all the shadows that still lurk in both of their pasts. He’d much prefer to keep Claude smiling and laughing tonight instead.

Grinning at the commentary about the dish he’d worked so hard on to replicate for the man, he can only chuckle as he swirls a bit of pasta around his fork with his other hand. ]

Fine, but next time, I’m sending you to hunt the giant pigeons.

Were they better or worse than the giant scorpions?

[ Claude's not even a little sorry for bringing up that memory, not even as he puts on a Very Pensive look while taking a bite of his own pasta. Something else to add to the list of incredible food Sylvain's made as confirmation there was nothing for the other man to worry about here, though that compliment can wait a bit in favor of (affectionately) annoying the other. ]

I mean, don't get me wrong. The scorpions weren't great, but at least they can't fly.

[ A beat, then a look crosses over his face which says if Sylvain's not about to interrupt him he's absolutely going to suggest going to find scorpions to see if that's true. ]

[ Oh no. He knows that look. And he definitely doesn’t want to know what spawned it this time.

Claude gets a fork emphatically jabbed in his general direction. ]

No. Whatever you just thought of. Nope. It’s not happening. I’m vetoing it.

But you haven't even heard what it is yet!

[ Claude looks absolutely aghast like that denial is a personal offense and not something he'd brought entirely on himself. Not aghast enough to not get another forkful of food or to commit to faux sulking - yet - but. Maybe close to it. ]

Besides, I think you would've liked this one. Think of it as doing a public service and also a little research all at the same time. A two for one deal's pretty good when it covers both of those.

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