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“Your hands are so warm… Have they always been?”
This is the first time Dimitri has let Byleth touch him since he's returned, their palms gently brushing together, though a layer of leather separates them.
Byleth reaches up, brushing his fingers over Dimitri’s hair and pushing it back from his cheek, soliciting a shiver from the taller man.
Byleth takes into account the dirtiness of his once beautifully blonde locks.
“You need a bath, don’t you?” He remarks, half-jokingly.
“I… might have been neglecting my hygiene a bit…” Dimitri mutters, clearly embarrassed as his cheeks flush, glancing away.
Byleth just smiles, taking his hand in his own again and leading him away silently.
“Maybe I can help with that.”
—
The bath house is weirdly empty, usually there’s a few more people here, even this late at night. Byleth still leads Dimitri over to a more secluded pool, wanting to give him a little privacy. This must be very new to him.
He reaches up, loosening the belts around Dimitri’s body, setting his armor down gently into a pile on the floor.
“Relax, Dimitri,” Byleth soothes, noting how tense Dimitri feels. “It’s just me.”
Somehow, his words actually work, feeling Dimitri relax under his touch. Once all of his armor is off, he turns around, letting him take off his underclothes on his own. He doesn’t want to push him too far yet.
He walks over to the shelving that holds freshly cleaned sleepwear, provided by the monastery. He eyes the sizes, deciding that a large should be good. He comes back with a towel, finding Dimitri already testing the warm water in the bath.
“Is it warm enough?” He chuckles as he sees the slight jolt from the blonde man at his sudden arrival.
“Yes, it feels nice…” Dimitri says quietly, stepping in. It’s weird to hear barely any bite in his voice now.
Byleth kneels down next to the bath, filling a small wooden bowl with bathwater before tipping Dimitri’s head back, pouring the water over his dirtied hair.
He’s quite surprised at how Dimitri is letting Byleth handle him like this. He was half-expecting him to rip off his head by now, but all Dimitri gives him is a slight jolt whenever he’s touched. It’s actually quite endearing.
Once Dimitri’s hair is nicely saturated with water, Byleth raises the shampoo bottle that was sitting next to him, squirting a small coin sized amount into his palm, pausing before adding just a bit more. He turns the viscous liquid into suds between his palms before softly massaging the bubbles into Dimitri’s scalp.
Dimitri surprisingly melts into his touch, relaxing against his fingers and the wood of the tub. It’s actually quite cute, he’s acting like a little cat. He makes sure to fully scrub through his hair thoroughly, removing the build up of blood and dirt and sweat that had accumulated quickly.
Part of him doesn’t want to stop, feeling as Dimitri’s hair slowly gets softer, just like how Dimitri’s attitude is shifting towards him. He’s now practically pressing against Byleth, still, limp, and warm.
“Don’t fall asleep, Dimitri,” He jokes, but doesn’t make an effort to move him off of his chest at all, even if water and a bit of soap was seeping into his clothes.
“I won’t, Professor…” Dimitri mumbles sleepily.
The sound of him addressing Byleth so softly again was weirdly endearing, making Byleth smile. He reluctantly lifts the wooden bowl again, rinsing out his hair from the soap, but not without running his fingers through it as he does so.
Once he’s satisfied, he puts the bowl down, running his fingers through Dimitri’s now soft hair again, Dimitri basically melting into the touch.
“Perfect…” He mutters breathlessly, sitting back slightly. His eyes fall upon Dimitri’s face, which is looking back up at him. Byleth just now realizes that Dimitri had removed his eyepatch.
Byleth reaches down, gently brushing across the scar on his right eye, Dimitri shuddering violently at the touch, backing away slightly.
“I know it’s gross-” His words stop dead in his throat as Byleth grabs his face to stop him, keeping him in place.
Dimitri stays silent as he lets Byleth inspect the scar. He’s not looking down at him with disgust, it's more like… awe.
After a while, Byleth finally pulls his hand away, going back to what he was doing originally, almost forgetting he was supposed to be cleaning him.
—
After he’s fully and thoroughly washed, Byleth helps Dimitri out of the tub, drying him off carefully, mindful of his scars and wounds. He dresses Dimitri, trying to keep his eyes off of… everything. Dimitri doesn’t seem to notice, or care, probably too tired.
Byleth has to stand on his tiptoes to dry Dimitri’s hair, scrubbing the towel over his now soft locks. Dimitri leans into his touch, sleep aggressively attacking his body.
He takes Dimitri's larger hand into his, leading him out of the bath house and into the dark, frigid night. The rain has let up, thankfully, but there's barely anyone out this time of night.
He guides him silently toward the dormitories, finding Dimitri's room easily upstairs. Byleth settles him down on the mattress, pulling the blankets over him.
Dimitri's eyelids are already heavy.
“Goodnight, Dimitri. Sweet dreams.” Byleth mutters, patting Dimitri's hair gently before pulling away.
But he doesn't get far as Dimitri's hand shoots out from the blankets and catches his wrist in his fingers.
“Professor, wait.” He says firmly.
“... Yes?”
“Will you…” Dimitri is feeling suddenly shy. “Will you stay here? Maybe just until I fall asleep?”
Byleth smiles gently at him.
“Of course I will.”
Dimitri shifts closer to the wall, giving Byleth room to lay down, though there isn't much space in the bed, especially because of how big Dimitri is.
Byleth settles against his side, watching as Dimitri's eye closes. He didn't even put his eyepatch back on.
Byleth just watches him as he drifts off, the only noise around them being the soft creaking of the old monastery walls.
Once he's sure Dimitri is asleep, his body still and relaxed against the mattress, his breathing low and shallow, he leans forward, pressing a kiss into his forehead.
He doesn't really know why he does it, it was more of a gut feeling. Dimitri just looked like he needed one.
The silence is cut by a soft voice.
“Professor,” Dimitri mutters, his eye still closed. “I'm not asleep yet.”
Byleth chuckles, feeling oddly embarrassed by being called out.
“Oops, sorry. You just looked like you needed one.”
Dimitri moves closer, nuzzling into his side.
“What does that mean?” He asks sleepily.
“I don't really know,” Byleth tries to pick out the feeling, but it's difficult to. “It just felt like I had to.”
Dimitri huffs out a breath of laughter, his hand reaching down to take Byleth's hand in his own, kissing his knuckles softly.
“What was that for?” The usually stoic professor suddenly feels breathless.
“It just felt like I had to.” Dimitri repeats, a clear mock.
Byleth huffs, but doesn't pull his hand away. “I see why Felix finds you insufferable.”
“You wound me, Professor.” Dimitri teases, keeping Byleth's knuckles pressed close to his lips, his breath fanning out gently over the skin.
Byleth sighs, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s neck and pulling him closer into his chest, though the prince is much bigger than him.
Dimitri reciprocates, coiling his arms around his beloved professor's waist, his grip firm.
“Go to sleep, Dimitri…” Byleth whispers gently into his ear. “I'll be right here when you wake up.”