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Entry tags:
[Suikoden III] "... And Thou"
Title: "... And Thou"
Fandom: Suikoden III
Pairing: Hugo/Caesar
Rating: G
Word Count: 490
Notes: For![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
areyougame: Suikoden III, Hugo/Caesar: strategy meeting - Together, sotto voce, we count hours, fuss over newsprint, water down the wine
Summary: Caesar has his own way of communicating his feelings.
Caesar had never been one for poetry. Before he'd left for Crystal Valley, his tutors had despaired over his lack of interest in anything but histories and military philosophy. It wasn't that he didn't understand literature -- actually, he was fairly good at it -- so much as he just didn't care.
But late in the evening and feeling slightly lightheaded from the wine at dinner, there was something about the way the firelight flickered off the gold in Hugo's hair and the bronze in his skin that made Caesar long for a good poetic metaphor.
"What do you think?" he asked instead, indicating the map with a sweep of his hand. It covered the whole of the table, hanging awkwardly over the edges, and was cluttered with pinned notes and makeshift markers to indicate troop movement.
"I think you've been working on this for too long," Hugo said dryly. But he leaned in to look anyway, his eyes scanning the map with a studied ease he didn't have only a few months ago.
Caesar snorted and draped an arm lightly around Hugo's shoulders. Without looking up from the map, Hugo's own arm snaked out to wrap around Caesar's waist. That was the thing about Hugo -- he didn't mind Caesar's casual touches the way some did. In fact, he usually returned them. Maybe it was just something about Karaya culture, but Caesar secretly hoped that it was unique to his interactions with Hugo. "I can't win," he complained. "I take a nap and everyone calls me lazy, but when I'm working, you tell me to take a break."
Hugo gave an easy laugh, his side vibrating where it was pressed up against Caesar's. "It must be tough." He was warm, warmer than could be explained just by the fireplace at the side of the room. These days, it always felt like there was a bonfire burning just under Hugo's skin, which Caesar supposed was natural, considering. Somehow, it suited him.
"It could be worse, I suppose. At least I have a competent general." Caesar tried to keep his tone light, but somehow, it seemed like the seriousness of the sentiment bled through anyway. He blamed the wine.
His words earned him a grin from Hugo. "Huh, you'll have to introduce me to him one day." Before Caesar could form a retort to that, Hugo had disentangled himself from his grip, and was pointing at a spot on the map. "Speaking of competency, explain this part to me, would you?"
"Ah, I have special plans for that unit," Caesar said, pleased that Hugo had noticed.
This was as close to poetry as he came, leaning over the table with his general, talking of feints and charges, all his training focused into plans for Hugo's sake. And that was fine with him, because he was beginning to think that Hugo understood all of what he was saying, not just what was on the surface.
Fandom: Suikoden III
Pairing: Hugo/Caesar
Rating: G
Word Count: 490
Notes: For
areyougame: Suikoden III, Hugo/Caesar: strategy meeting - Together, sotto voce, we count hours, fuss over newsprint, water down the wineSummary: Caesar has his own way of communicating his feelings.
Caesar had never been one for poetry. Before he'd left for Crystal Valley, his tutors had despaired over his lack of interest in anything but histories and military philosophy. It wasn't that he didn't understand literature -- actually, he was fairly good at it -- so much as he just didn't care.
But late in the evening and feeling slightly lightheaded from the wine at dinner, there was something about the way the firelight flickered off the gold in Hugo's hair and the bronze in his skin that made Caesar long for a good poetic metaphor.
"What do you think?" he asked instead, indicating the map with a sweep of his hand. It covered the whole of the table, hanging awkwardly over the edges, and was cluttered with pinned notes and makeshift markers to indicate troop movement.
"I think you've been working on this for too long," Hugo said dryly. But he leaned in to look anyway, his eyes scanning the map with a studied ease he didn't have only a few months ago.
Caesar snorted and draped an arm lightly around Hugo's shoulders. Without looking up from the map, Hugo's own arm snaked out to wrap around Caesar's waist. That was the thing about Hugo -- he didn't mind Caesar's casual touches the way some did. In fact, he usually returned them. Maybe it was just something about Karaya culture, but Caesar secretly hoped that it was unique to his interactions with Hugo. "I can't win," he complained. "I take a nap and everyone calls me lazy, but when I'm working, you tell me to take a break."
Hugo gave an easy laugh, his side vibrating where it was pressed up against Caesar's. "It must be tough." He was warm, warmer than could be explained just by the fireplace at the side of the room. These days, it always felt like there was a bonfire burning just under Hugo's skin, which Caesar supposed was natural, considering. Somehow, it suited him.
"It could be worse, I suppose. At least I have a competent general." Caesar tried to keep his tone light, but somehow, it seemed like the seriousness of the sentiment bled through anyway. He blamed the wine.
His words earned him a grin from Hugo. "Huh, you'll have to introduce me to him one day." Before Caesar could form a retort to that, Hugo had disentangled himself from his grip, and was pointing at a spot on the map. "Speaking of competency, explain this part to me, would you?"
"Ah, I have special plans for that unit," Caesar said, pleased that Hugo had noticed.
This was as close to poetry as he came, leaning over the table with his general, talking of feints and charges, all his training focused into plans for Hugo's sake. And that was fine with him, because he was beginning to think that Hugo understood all of what he was saying, not just what was on the surface.
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