I logged back in to my old ffn account just to post this here.
*if you want the explicit version, you can go to the ao3 link on my bio after deleting the space in between, but this fic hasn't gotten to that point yet
What the hell? What the hell?
That was the mantra Subaru chanted in his head whenever he felt a blush threaten to cover his face, and every time he mentally cursed at the asshole at the center.
It all began a week after what he'd half-jokingly dubbed the "Roswaal Hell Plan" at Sanctuary.
First, an Anastasia Camp carriage pulled up one day and of course, Julius was sitting inside. Sending in the royal candidate's personal knight just for camp relations seemed a bit overkill until the man himself stated that he'd volunteered for the task.
A small conference was called and dismissed within the day. It was a quick affair, though believing the Anastasia Camp's involvement with them was over proved to be wishful thinking. Much to Subaru's annoyance, it was a continuous process that required fairly common meetups, and most involved Julius himself.
In fact, it was during one of these that the first big warning sign appeared.
At this point, their meetings were formal mostly in name and had happened a fair few times already. They were now sitting at a rather small local restaurant to discuss potential trade agreements.
Subaru was having a short chat at the table with him, tossing curt words at the knight that became especially snappy when he found out about his divine blessing of spirit gathering. Or gathering spirits. Whatever. The point was, it drew Beako toward that prissy jerk and that couldn't stand, so he tried using himself as a meat shield between her and Julius.
The distance helped a little. However, it came at the expense of sitting uncomfortably close to the purple-haired knight.
"I do hope that Beatrice isn't too bothered by my presence," commented Julius during a lull in the main conversation. "Seeing as she's a great spirit, it seems to tug at her heartstrings minimally."
"Ack! don't say it like that, you spirit gigolo!" griped Subaru alongside Beako's enthusiastic dissent. The spirit herself seemed quite a bit disgruntled judging by her cutesy pout, but was a bit more verbally reserved. When Julius occasionally directed a question her way, she sometimes snubbed him with a huff.
Still, Julius had something to refute. "Spirit gigolo? That is a term I've heard ascribed to Reinhard more I, much to his dismay. I am quite satisfied with the quasi spirits at my side."
A few of his contract spirits flitted into view to voice their delight. Subaru muttered, "If that's the game you wanna play, then stop prodding at Beako."
"Beatrice is a great spirit, a level these maidens greatly aspire to reach. There shouldn't be any issue with my reasoning," he deftly responded.
"W-well," she stuttered, surprised by the indirect compliment. "That is a fair point, I suppose. "
In real time, he watched his own contract spirit get won over by smooth talk. Traitor.
As Beatrice conversed with the quasi spirits, Subaru took the opportunity to shovel down some more food while Emilia, Otto, and Julius resumed chatting about more official stuff. The restaurant they were in had discovered a week or two ago and he never stopped coming back. They had rice. Rice! He'd practically cried with joy when he saw it on a waiter's plate and immediately asked what it was, then ordered it on the spot.
They called it Wrice, though, which was sacrilege but he'd let it slide since the waiter promised not to gossip about his abnormally vocal response.
Subaru soon found himself staring sadly at his emptied plate. Quickly, a laugh interrupted his brooding.
"Suba-" Emilia attempted to say in a fit of giggles. "S-subaru, your face!"
Conjuring a mirror of ice (coolest casual use of insane magic skill), she let it hover a short distance from his face.
Ew. It wasn't too bad, but it would definitely catch a lot of people's attention if he were to walk down the street as is. Snatching the nearest napkin, he cleaned his face.
Strangely, it only made Emilia giggle harder, and now Otto looked like he was holding back a snort. He decided to look back into the mirror for a better inspection and found a clump of rice grains somehow stuck right in the middle of his forehead.
Being the self-assigned clown he was, he dramatically clenched his fist. "Oh! My napkin's already dirty, so who'll lovingly wipe it off for me?" Subaru asked, sending glances Emilia's way with mock furtiveness.
Uncomprehendingly, Subaru watched as Julius raised an arm, plucked it off, ate it, and smiled. Most at the table let out a silent gasp.
"Hm? Wouldn't it be a waste to just clean it?" He said to an open-mouthed Subaru. Subaru, for the matter, tuned the rest of the conversation out until the wage slave of the Emilia camp shook his shoulders outside the establishment, snapping him out of it.
Otto let out a sigh of relief, then asked, "Natsuki, have you done anything to attract Julius's attention like that?"
"Gesundheit," he said.
Otto's brows scrunched. "What?"
Thankfully, Emilia carried the conversation on. "That was really sweet of him. I've read about that in a book Julius lended me once."
"Emilia, no," groaned Subaru. "My poor innocence will be dashed if that bastard comes within a six foot radius of me."
"Eh, really? Don't worry, Subaru! I'll protect your innocence if you want!" declared Emilia.
"You're that last person I want saying that!" he shouted fruitlessly into the wind.
From that day on, Subaru seemed to encounter the most cliche situations in Julius's presence. The man had saved him from being hit by a car (carriage) when he was distracted on the street. Subaru accidentally ran into him multiple times when turning the corner, once when he was late. He even had a piece of toast in his mouth, though, so that was actually on him. He'd designated them tropes 5, 21a, 21b, and 21c respectively, separating the last three into separate branches under the main category.
They were mostly ordered chronologically by occurrence. He didn't really know how to feel about that.
"My life was already a joke, but I never thought it would stoop to the level of a hundred typical shoujo manga tropes," Subaru had once muttered when they once both reached for the same book. Trope number 36.
It was then that he'd begun to suspect that the most terribly uncreative manga in his old world had materialized in Julius's hands and he took the book's teachings to heart without intending.
Most of the mansion knew about it too. He'd complain about the latest happening at will, and soon everyone there at least partially knew about it. Most of all, Betty. She got the largest earful of it and he felt a little guilty about abusing his Betty time privileges, but she usually seemed interested so it was probably okay.
"Betty will happily listen to your troubles, I suppose," rang her voice every time he began a spiel. He really didn't deserve her.
Unfortunately, all of this accumulated into an odd hyperawareness whenever Julius was around, and occasionally, he'd find himself overanalyzing everything from the way light shined on his honey-gold eyes to rare, quietly aborted gestures that nobody would notice if they hadn't spent much time around him.
Eventually, Subaru's heart would sometimes beat a little funny in his presence and his palms would get sweaty, which was very annoying if he was trying to concentrate on something. It even reached the point where that would sometimes happen when Julius wasn't around. It was just like the asshole to pester him miles away where they couldn't even interact.
Ram, of all people, broke one day and snapped that he had a crush on Julius like a clueless idiot, and the scary part was that she didn't even bother coming up with a clever snark.
There was no way that would happen regardless. So of course, he simply resumed acting as normal. Even if Julius fell in love with him, there's no way Subaru would fall for him, not ever.