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Please. As if the Professor ever put you in detention.

[ He blows a raspberry, not believing that for a second. But he can’t dim his grin any, leaning into those warm fingers against his cheek. ]

And if that’s as creative a punishment you can come up with on a night like this, I may have to despair over you being a completely lost cause.

That's you presuming I was a good student.

[ As for whether he was - that depends on one's definition of it, Claude supposes, but thinking back to his teenage self makes it easy enough now to (sort of) admit he wasn't. Not always, anyway, though Teach was so unfairly never ruffled it'd almost felt like a challenge in some ways. Until everything happened, anyway, and then he'd had five years to think about it.

Claude puts on a mock frown, however, as he now taps that thumb against Sylvain's cheek. ]

And I rather think it's your fault for me being uncreative, what with you wearing me out. That just means I'll have to keep my better ideas all to myself and you'll have to wonder what they are.

If I presume that, it’s got less to do with you putting the effort into the classes themselves and more to do with you always needing to know everything.

[ He says it teasingly, letting his own hand skim up and down Claude’s spine as he lets his head fall back to rest on the man’s shoulder once more. ]

Besides. Are you really going to try and convince me that you didn’t have the Professor wrapped around your pinky by the end of your first week?

I think it was probably the needing to know everything which made me a particularly annoying student.

[ In more ways than one; while Lysithea might've argued with Teach openly in lectures, it was always apparent because she wanted to make sure she understood. On the other hand: his own interventions loudly or otherwise had been more of an undermining quality given he hadn't trusted Teach and had trusted him even less after finding the Sword of the Creator. All things which evolved in time both in that school year and in the many years afterwards, and maybe none of it matters anymore.

Not as much as shifting a little more to face Sylvain both to get more comfortable and to make it easier for that hand tracing over him to continue and have a slightly wider path to do it as he flashes the other a smirk. ]

Why, are you speaking from experience of being here? If so then maybe I don't have to do any convincing at all.

[ That hand slides down to rest at the small of his back, fingers splayed there as his thumb rubs back and forth. He’s comfortable right where he is, head once more pillowed against Claude’s shoulder, wrapped up around him, and held in turn. They’d spent a lot of nights like this, of late. Which was still a little unbelievable to Sylvain. Considering he’d never spent the night with most of his previous lovers. This had been quite the switch.

It’s a little scary, how much he likes it. How comforting it is to curl up next to someone. To trust someone like that.

Right now, though, he just hums, slightly distracted as his mind mulls that over. ]

I probably wouldn’t believe you anyway.

[ This is too comfortable. Claude's had that thought before and he's having it again now, what with Sylvain pressing himself into all those empty spaces like they were meant to fit him and in a way he thinks he shouldn't find so soothing. That's putting too much into something that - is whatever this is, and he whisks the thought away again even as the smile remains on his face unnoticed.

Whatever else is yet to come out of that train of thought is yet to be discovered. For now, Claude mishears distraction for tiredness and leans to press a kiss to Sylvain's temple, letting it linger as he closes his eyes to murmur against skin. ]

Go to sleep. You can figure out if you believe me in the morning.

[ His lips quirk into a smile at the brush of lips and the gentle command, but he just snuggles a little closer, content enough to do just that. ]

Okay, but only if you sleep, too.

I'll think about it.

[ That counts, right? It'll have to since there's still some time to go before he can convince his mind to wind down for the night, even when Sylvain's warmth pressed into his side more comforting than save but a handful of other things he can think of listing right then.

Some of them, maybe, tie to what had started this whole conversation in the first place when he'd walked into his room to find Sylvain already there. As if he belonged, like he was supposed to be, and that thought makes something tighten in his chest just as much as the uncertainty of why it is they're the only two at the loft so often lately does in a different way.

Tonight will bring him no answers, Claude knows, so instead he shifts again to rest his cheek against Sylvain's face and going right back to tracing those shapes and patterns along ever more familiar skin to convince the other man to drift off as it's done on other nights. ]

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