Chapter Text
Ferdinand von Aegir was distressed. And when he was distressed, he could not sit still. And when he could not sit still, he… well he had many ways of coping with that. Sometimes he took tea to calm his nerves. Sometimes he went to the stables and then on a horseback ride. Other times, like today, he took his frustrations out on the poor training dummies. He speared one straight through the heart as he yelled. Straight through the heart. That’s where the professor’s words had hit him. No, they had said. No to Ferdinand’s plea to be selected to represent his house at the White Heron Cup. Didn’t they understand how important this was to him? For everyone to see how passionate he could be? To prove his father wrong and that he could be perfectly noble and honorable and dance? It wasn’t fair to have his dreams dashed. So what if Dorothea was actually well versed in dance? So what if she was already talented in performing? It felt like cheating as far as he was concerned. She was a professional! The other houses could not claim to have anyone like her in their ranks. He sighed as he retrieved his lance. She was going to be phenomenal She always was. Foolish to think he’d ever be picked, no matter how his heart had been set on it.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” came a voice from the entrance of the training grounds. Ferdinand frowned as he saw Hubert approaching him. How long had he been there watching?
“Hubert. If you are meaning to stalk me, you should keep your presence hidden. Work on that for me, will you?” He gathered his equipment to return it to the racks.
“I’m afraid I cannot. We have stable duty together.”
“And here I was hoping you would forget.”
“While the arrangement is less than ideal, the work needs doing.”
Ferdinand slammed the training lance back in its place on the rack and glared at Hubert. “Then just let me do it. You hate horses and they hate you too. Believe me, I understand why.”
“Don’t tell me you speak to them like that Marianne girl.”
“Shut up, Hubert.”
Hubert laughed. “Isn’t that interesting, you telling me to shut up. What has caused the oh so noble Ferdinand von Aegir to act like this?”
“None of your concern, Hubert.”
“Oh?” Hubert crossed his arms. “I find it to be very much my concern. We cannot have anyone loyal to the empire be emotionally compromised. Not with recent events.”
Ferdinand dramatically shrugged as he let out an exasperated sigh. “I am not emotionally compromised! I am just…disappointed.” He shook his head. Why was he telling Hubert this of all people? He hated him. He hated how condescending he was, and what was worse, how right he could be. Hubert could read him like a tome. He hated to admit that it sometimes caused him to reflect on his failings. That would be admitting to him being helpful. Hubert was anything but.
“Don’t tell me,” he sneered. “Did you really think you would be selected for the White Heron Cup? You are aware Dorothea is in our house, correct?”
“Yes, but I wanted it!”
Hubert chuckled. “And of course that makes you deserving. My mistake.”
Ferdinand scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I do not have to explain myself to you.”
Hubert crossed his arms. “Oh no no, please. Explain. Please enlighten me to the inner workings of Ferdinand von Aegir.”
Ferdinand clenched his fists and glared up at him. “Stop mocking me, Hubert! I am in no mood.”
Hubert’s eye flicked down to Ferdinand’s fists and his smirk remained. “Is that a threat?”
Something inside Ferdinand snapped and he swung to hit Hubert squarely in the jaw, but his fist hit nothing but air as Hubert ducked out of the way. Ferdinand gritted his teeth as he heard Hubert laughing at him. He moved to swing again but instead of dodging, Hubert grasped his wrist. Ferdinand tried to pull it away. “Unhand me.”
“Oh, no, I think not. What would everyone say if they saw you acting so ignobly?”
Ferdinand struggled against his grip. “I do not care!”
“Yes, you do.”
Ferdinand groaned. “Shut up!” he yelled as he shoved Hubert toward the wall, Hubert still holding tight to his wrist pulled him in so they were pressed against each other. Ferdinand hardly seemed to notice. “What do you even know about me, you…you…”
“You what?”
Ferdinand acting on instinct pressed his thigh in between Hubert’s wide stance and leaned up. “You subservient cur.”
Hubert clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Is that the best you have? You’re the one begging for attention like a lost dog.”
“I do not beg,” he growled.
“We’ll see about that.”
Ferdinand gasped as he felt Hubert roll his hips against his leg. His breathing became heavy as he felt his cheeks flush at the contact.
Hubert’s grin was wicked. “You crave any attention at all, don’t you?”
Ferdinand felt his face grow warm as what he thought was anger started to boil inside him. “Sh-shut up, Hubert. I am warning you, I will…”
“You will what?”
Ferdinand surged forward and crushed his mouth against Hubert to silence him as he tried to wriggle his wrist free. He shivered as Hubert moaned against what Ferdinand was trying to convince himself was not at all a kiss. No, no kissing was something far gentler, more romantic. Something asked for or coyly stolen during an evening stroll or a dance. Ferdinand wanted his first kiss to be slow, romantic. Perhaps after or during the ball. Maybe while sneaking a visit to the Goddess tower. Not whatever this feverish thing was. And certainly not with Hubert von Vestra. He pressed Hubert further against the wall, attempting to pin him there as he felt him try to push back, try to assert some sort of dominance. Ferdinand was unwilling to yield, yet could not help but open his mouth to allow Hubert to slide his tongue inside and…well shit. He was kissing Hubert von Vestra.
Ferdinand surged his hips forward, mocking Hubert’s earlier action and the fiery anger within his chest shot straight to his groin as Hubert released a throaty growl. Ferdinand’s free hand gripped Hubert’s hair, holding him in place as instinct took control, while Hubert’s found the small of his back, pulling him in tight. He continued to rut against Hubert, pressing him against the wall, eager to feel more and more of the hard friction growing between them, hating Hubert for drawing it out of him. Hating him for his taste and his scent and his unmatched ability to anger him and cause him to behave so irrationally. How pathetic that he would let Hubert get to him like this. Ferdinand forced himself to pull away and glared at Hubert. “Fuck. You.”
Hubert wore an expression Ferdinand could only describe as dumbfounded before it slowly morphed into a more familiar, teasing smirk. “Is that a promise?” he chuckled.
Ferdinand shoved against him to force himself free of Hubert’s grip. “Get off me.” He straightened his cravat and attempted to smooth his uniform jacket all while attempting to determine the best course of action. Denial was the only thing coming to mind. He avoided Hubert’s eyes as he started to storm away toward the exit. “Let us get our damned chores over with.”
Hubert only chuckled. “As you wish.”