Just practicing getting an idea for how the two of the behave around each other when there's no one there to see Soren be more vulnerable than he would ever admit he is. Only Ike gets to see that side.

Most definitely Ike/Soren here.

Soren tried to not noticeably squint at the book as he carefully outlined the letters by candle light, knowing that Ike would call him to bed if he caught him subccumbing to weariness, but it was difficult to keep the ink from dancing on the paper. He pushed a strand of his falling failing braid out of his face, and leaned in a fraction closer.

He wasn't quite sure of the time, though he knew that the candle had an inch of height more on it when Ike had told him to finish up his page and come to bed, and that the early autumn night air was seeping in through the crack in their shutters. Ike never complained about the chill, and it wasn't the biggest concern in the repairs of the base. But it was distracting, especially when the thread of breeze was enough to blow his pages.

He almost knocked over the inkwell with his sleeve as he reached to pin down the pages, and cursed in his head. If Ike hadn't noticed the squinting, he certainly would notice that. And right on cue, the bed creaked as Ike moved from his dozing position to look at him, and he could feel his eyes burning against the back of his neck. He froze and waited for Ike to say something- scold him for still working at late hours of the night.

The bed groaned again, but the other man made no sound as he walked across the floor, something Soren had spent an afternoon with him on how to step without thundering like Kieran on yet another bear rampage, and instead of speaking, he just reached over from behind him and stoppered up the ink, putting it away on its little shelf where he could find it at the end of another work day ready for use.

Soren looked up at Ike, standing where the glow of the embers in the fireplace ran up his chest and illuminated his eyes just enough to read the meanings within. There was no anger, no disappointment. Just a weary affection and a knowledge that he could ask Soren to change, but he wouldn't for more than an evening, and that he was okay with that. He took Ike's offered hand to stand up, choosing to take the help of the one person who would never mock him for not being infalliable, and stood up. His legs were stiff, but not unbearable.

It wasn't till they were both in the bed, the blankets warmed from Ike having been in them for a while before, that he spoke. "Are you okay?"

Soren tried to look at his face again to read whatever might have been underneath, but the shadows left only the words as a guide. "I'm fine." He said, willing the darkness to keep any weakness away. Just because he could be didn't mean he wanted to be. "I just lost track of time."

A low chuckle in the dark. "I believe that," Ike said, his voice a deep rumble in his chest, so soft that Soren felt it better than he heard it, even with his ear pressed to the solid rhythm of his heart. "But I still wonder." Strong gentle fingers finished pulling the remains of his braid to pieces, he still didn't know why Ike liked to pet his hair. But he could imagine that the sensation of that gentle gesture was what a cat felt when petted. He thought he might like cats if they were just cats and not Cats.

He had to be more tired than he realized, his thoughts were fragmenting in weird directions and not focusing on the conversation. "Why?" he asked, trying to keep from letting Ike know that part. "Why do you wonder if I'm all right?"

"Because you don't let anyone in if you aren't," Ike said calmly, "not even me."

And he didn't know what to say to that, because his contradictions weren't something he wanted to acknowledge. Ike continued though, with the hair petting and with his late night ruminisms. "I know how hard it is for you. I don't blame you for being afraid of what would happen if you let me see everything in your heart. I don't blame you for not doing it even if you aren't. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve. And I like that."

Idly, he wondered if Ike had been listening to people gossip again. It had led to interesting whispered conversations at night when camp gossip during the Daien war had hit rather closer than they would have liked to admit. A relationship was one thing, a relationship in the middle of a disastrous war when they should have been saving all their energy for battle and strategy was something else.

But he couldn't find it in his heart full of regrets to regret that, in finding a peace in the chaos of war, even if it was hidden and kept to shadows and whispers until everything was cleaned up and done. Ike had convinced him that he deserved his own bit of happiness, no matter how sad the world was.

"Soren?"

He breathed in, and felt warm around. The urge to sleep was creeping up on him like a soft blanket and good dreams and the sappy stuff Mist's romance novels were made of. "Yes, Ike?" he said, and cringed inwardly at the drowsiness apparent in his voice.

Lips pressed against his forehead. "Sleep. It's all right."

And it was. He closed his eyes to the world, and Ike's hand settled against his back, a shield or a ward, or maybe just a reminder that he was there. The sound of them breathing in time with each other was the only sound in the room, and the early autumn air couldn't reach past the little barrier.

Tomorrow, there would be work and inanities and drunken Shinon and Kieran smashing things that they couldn't afford to have smashed, and he would snap at someone, just like every day.

But for now, it was okay to be in his little bit of peace.