"Oh my goodness, be careful!"
"Hey! I'm doing this as a favor, you know."
"Oh Annie, watch where you are going!"

A crash and a thud and a shriek sent Dimitri's shoulders up to his ears and somehow he managed not to drop the glass he was drying. He'd guessed that an amateur night would be disruptive but he hadn't anticipated straight up pandemonium. His friend and the owner of the bar shook his head and groaned.

"I can't watch," he said, making a hasty exit to the back storeroom. "Just tell me if anyone dies."

"Hello? Tall, broad and blonde? Are you on"

The banging at setup must have happened just as the bar door opened, muting the bell over it. Dimitri recognized the perfume, heavy and floral, and knew right away who was at the bar. With a glance over his shoulder he confirmed his suspicions.

"Hello Dr. Casagranda. You're in early today."

"Class let out early because I said so. It's been a very long week. Would you be a gem and pour me my usual?"

"You got it." In no time at all he placed a full tumbler in front of her on a folded napkin and plunked in three cherries which rose and bobbed along the surface of the drink.

"Hmmm," she hummed appreciatively and handed him her credit card. "You know exactly how I like it. Open a tab for me please."

At that moment another shriek and a crash and a loud rush of feedback over the speakers sent both of their shoulders to their ears and their teeth grinding.

"What on earth was that?" she gasped, turning about on her barstool to look at the stage on the far end of the room.

"Sorry!" A red-haired handsome man waved and a younger looking girl picked herself up from the stage floor.

"Sorry too!"
"Annie, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Aren't you going to ask about me?"

The blonde girl giggled. "I can see clearly that you are okay Sylvain."

"You never know though. I could be bleeding internally."

"Well," she sounded amused. "If you start bleeding from your ears, I'll be sure to call an ambulance."

"This is an unusual set up for a Friday night, isn't it?" Manuela asked, turning her attention back to the young man behind the bar.

Dimitri grinned and continued setting up for the evening. "It's amateur night."

"Amateur night? Isn't every night amateur night?" Her lips twisted into a smirk that perked the corner of her mouth.

"No. It's not."

"Good evening Felix,"chirped Dr. Casagranda. "You sound more chipper than usual."

Felix stopped, shifting the crate of glasses from one arm to the other. "And you're here earlier than usual. It's not evening for another two hours." Without waiting for a reply, he shuffled back behind the bar to put the glasses away.

The bell sounded over the front door, a soft tinkling sound before a slam of the door that set his teeth on edge.

"What the hell, Ingrid!?" So much for Felix ignoring what was happening across the bar. "You're going to bring the place down slamming around like that."

"She's late." Ingrid announced as though she'd not heard Felix at all, or was plain ignoring him. When no one acknowledged her announcement, she repeated herself not to anyone in particular. "She's late and she's not answering!"

"What do you mean she's not answering?" Annette, the red-haired girl, asked. "Did you leave her a message?"

"Yes! Several in fact! I don't know how many more I can leave before her mailbox fills up."

"Did you text her?"

"Of course I texted her," Ingrid said incredulously. "Are you kidding, Mercedes? Of course I texted her."

"Then I'm sure she's on her way," Mercedes, Mercie for short, reassured her.

"Calm down Ingrid. You have plenty of time before you go on," Dimitri reminded her.

"It's just that… " Ingrid took a deep breath that puffed out her cheeks. "I want everything to go really well tonight." She slunk down on top of a barstool, her anger giving away to her anxiety. "We've never played anything bigger than a house party and that was with Dorothea. I just don't know that I trust this new girl."

"There's only one way to find out," put in Dimitri trying to cheer her up. "The worst thing that can happen is she doesn't show up and Sylvain has to sing lead for you."

The red-headed man popped his head up from where he was struggling with a speaker on the stage at a sound of his name. "What? What am I going to do?"

Ingrid smirked, hiding a budding laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Dimitri. He couldn't carry to tune to save his life."

"Now that's not true!" Sylvain straightened with a cable still slung around his neck. "I can do a lot of things for the right compensation."

Ingrid rolled her eyes to a chorus of groans. Sylvain, unabashed, laughed and then went back to plugging up the speakers.

"Hey," Dimitri leaned in across the bar, lowering his voice to catch Ingrid's attention. "It's going to be fine. She came well recommended?"

Ingrid nodded begrudgingly.

"And you've rehearsed with her and she's good?"

Again Ingrid nodded.

"She's probably just running late."

With a defined sniff and a straighten her shoulders. "You're right, Dimitri. Thank you. It must be the nerves."

"I've heard you play and you have nothing to be nervous about."

"Right again." She stood looking all the more determined after the pep talk. "Thanks Dimitri."

"You're welcome."

As Ingrid turned her attention to the oversight of setting up the stage, Dimitri returned to prepping the bar. For as long as he'd known her, and that was since they were little, Ingrid so focused on the details that she lost sight of the big picture. Just as always, she only needed a nudge to adjust her perspective and then she was off ready to take on the world. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Felix glaring at the crate of glasses with more vehemence than usual.

"You brought this on yourself, you know."

His scowl deepened. "Shut up. Don't remind me."

"It'll be good for the bar."

"I hate when you're right."

"No. You just hate to be wrong."

"We need ice," he said with a growl and a deliberate change of subject and went to make another escape under the guise of retrieving the ice from the back.

"I can help you with that," Dimitri began but Felix stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't need any help. And with Sylvain playing technical director over there I don't think the bar is going to get set up at all."

At a glare that burned like coals Dimitri stopped talking and pretended not to watch as his friend walked around the bar to the backroom. The limp was still pronounced but it didn't look like it slowed him down. Felix had always hated it when someone offered to help him, even before his injury but Dimitri couldn't help offering. Insisting only made things worse so it was best to leave it alone. They were both healing but the pangs of guilt in his stomach were still there. They'd likely always be there and he assumed that was better than what he really deserved.

Felix purchased the Shield of Faerghus after being discharged from service and not much had changed since his acquisition. The bar had all the signs of being an old dive bar that was just a little too rough to attract students from the university across the street for the novelty alone. From the bare concrete floor to the rough round tables and floating bar top along the wall to the worn bar itself situated along the wall between the bathrooms and the front door; Felix had not invested much more than the cost to slap a new sign over the door.

Dimitri felt lucky to have a friend that not only had a spot like this but would be willing to take him on. He had been gone for so long, first Duscar and then beyond, it was strange to see the familiar faces of people who had been in his class at prep school but were now several years into their bachelor's or moving on to pursue a master's. Very few individuals remembered him or cared enough to stop pretending and that suited him fine. The fewer people asking innocent questions for the sake of small talk the better.

When he'd pictured his future back then, slinging drinks alongside a childhood friend under the employ of another childhood friend wasn't even close to what he imagined but the tips were good in a college town over the weekend and curfew on weekdays ensured he wasn't out too late. For circumstances so far from what he'd anticipated, these weren't half bad.

The sound check passed without further incident and despite Felix's grumbling the bar was prepped and ready to go by the time customers started to trickle in. A few small groups clustered around tables and others milled around along the walls, their conversation and the music on the speakers made for an energetic buzz on the floor. As it got closer to showtime, more and more people streamed through the door and the bar was soon crammed with individuals vying for the bartenders' eye.

The band had disappeared into the women's bathroom to get ready but there was still no sign of the mysterious lead singer. Ingrid was in a state. Somehow Mercie and Annie coaxed her into the bathroom but only if Dimitri, Sylvain and Felix each swore to tell them if she arrived, never mind that no one knew what she looked like.

"Should I start warming up just in case?" Sylvain called as they went which did nothing but deepen the shade of red blotching on Ingrid's face.

Felix was at his usual spot on a barstool against the wall at the bar watching business with an air of disinterest and Sylvain filling a pitcher of beer when a pink-haired girl ordered an iced fruity drink. Sylvain pretended to ignore the order which left Dimitri to mix up the cocktail; it was a pain in the ass. As he squatted down to fish out the cherry syrup from beneath the bar, someone asked for Ingrid. It was a woman's voice and Felix was quick to point her to the women's bathroom. By the time Dimitri stood there was no sign of her.

"She made it, huh?" he asked as he piled ice into a shaker for the chilled drink.

"By the skin of her teeth. Didn't even look like she was in a hurry," said Felix.

"Girl like that should never be in a hurry." It was best to ignore Sylvain at times like this so they did. A queue was forming at the bar and there wouldn't be much time to chat at the rate patrons were coming into the bar anyway. It was going to be a very lucrative night.

"See Felix…" Dimitri couldn't help but rub it in.

"Don't say it Dimitri."

He chuckled and sloshed the drink into a glass, topped it with a cherry and delivered it to the girl. "Do you want to open a tab?"

Surprising no one but Felix, the bar nearly hit capacity. Felix had to move from his spot at the bar to stand watch at the door and turn people away. Something about the fire marshal. Dimitri and Sylvain were busy and the tip jar was filling nicely; it was indeed going to be a lucrative night.

Sudden applause and a surge of people getting to their feet meant the band was taking the stage. Dimitri chuckled and glanced over at Sylvain. "I didn't know they performed in their prep school uniforms."

"Yeah. It's really something isn't it? I didn't remember those uniforms looking so good."

"Good evening Shield of Faerghus" It was Ingrid leaning into the mic, her guitar slung over her shoulder. Mercedes had her base and was doing some last minute tuning and Annette had settled behind the drums. No sign of the front man yet and just as Ingrid stepped back from the middle mic stand a purple haired man slid over, blocking Dimitri's sightline. He ordered some wine, not the table blend, something nice which meant fishing down a bottle from the top shelf.

He knew there had to be a bottle shoved back and out of the way, it would just take a minute to find it. At last, he spotted a bottle that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a while and he reached for it. As he grasped the bottleneck the band began their first song and as the first guitar chords rang out, sharp and rich, followed by the slow rhythmic thrum of the base his heart stopped in his chest. He knew this song.

He'd never expected to hear it, especially in a place like this, and he stood no chance of arming himself for the feelings and memories that charged out of his brain. His dad used to listen to the band that wrote it. Without warning he was transported to the backseat of his dad's limo, looking up at the pristine jawline of his father as he sang under his breath and read through the reports in his lap. The song had seemed old then and he could never have known then that he'd miss hearing it or the way that his dad's voice rumbled in his chest when he wasn't singing outright.

Stunned, he turned to look at the stage just as the drums kicked in, catching clear then blending with the sharp staccato of the base and guitar; together blending into a funky, hip swaying sound. Then she began to sing. He hadn't noticed her for the music and he did not feel his jaw drop or take notice of the reedy purple haired man leaning into his line of sight; all he could see was the teal haired woman standing at the microphone stand with a cherry red guitar in her hands.

Her voice was low and velvety; deliciously so and her mouth rounded with the 'O' in the lyrics in a way that made him instantly hard. He swallowed, oblivious to everything else around him as she sang and the music swelled to fold around her. Her uniform was different from the others; silver instead of gold detailing. A headband pulled her hair back from her face; except for the shaggy bangs that partially obscured her eyes. Her eyes closed as she sang, lewd fantasies sprang into his head and he had no idea where they had come from. The surging rhythm seemed to pulse not only from the drum set behind her but from the movement of her body. Her hips rocked, swishing her skirt back and forth with her step in time with the song; black against cream colored thighs just above knee-high white tights. He didn't recall any variation of the prep school uniform with those. All of this struck him in an instant and he felt light headed but keenly focused at the same time. He hadn't felt that way since….

"Excuse me!"

His gaze snapped into focus on the man scowling in front of him. Dimitri jumped for the realization that he'd probably been trying to get his attention for a while now and hastily grabbed a corkscrew and a glass.

"Please accept my apology," he was saying even though the siren song from the stage tugged at his attention. "This one's on me."

Sylvain snorted; an obvious laughing commentary on what he'd been watching but, uncharacteristically said nothing.

Ingrid was introducing the band as they played the bridge beneath her as the purple-haired guy marched away to rejoin his group. Dimitri immediately perked up, once again ignoring the queue in front of him.

"On bass we have Mercedes!" She did a complicated series of plunks on the strings to a round of applause.

"On drums, Annette!" A frantic barrage of snare and cymbal perfectly captured Annette's enthusiasm and overall chaotic nature. She twirled a single stick across her knuckles while keeping the beat with the other to acknowledge the shouts from the audience.

"I'm Ingrid - on guitar for you tonight. Allow me to introduce the newest member of Sweet Bloody Serios. On lead guitar and vocals…"

Dimitri jerked up finger up, silencing the mousy green haired young man next in line.

"Byleth!" No sooner had she announced her name than the song picked up again swelling from the bridge into the chorus. No flourish was necessary from the front man when the key changed and instead of taking the octave up she dropped into a lower, thicker key while the rest of the band accompanied her in harmony. Her lips brushed the microphone and he wondered if she'd left traces of her lipstick there.

The set continued on for the next half hour and Dimitri struggled to keep his focus on the customers in line. He'd been caught scowling more than once in concentration so much so that the regulars asked if he was feeling alright. At each mention he would dismiss their concerns with a laugh and swear to himself that he'd stay focused next time.

At last, the set ended to thunderous applause and the usual radio station began to spill through the speakers; a welcome shift from the distractions from before. Dimitri sighed in relief and realized that he'd been grinding his teeth and in the absence of her voice he felt like a boulder had been lifted off his chest. That and the orders were beginning to slow and the number of credit cards tacked along the back bar began to dwindle until even the regulars had closed out their tabs. The night had gone by in a fever dream of music, arousal and beer; and now the bar was empty and he was left with a full tip jar and an aching back.

As he and Sylvain began to clean up behind the bar, the band settled onto stools to enjoy some drinks and decompression. Mercedes was next to Annette trying not to laugh at Felix's grumbling and blushing as she told him how cool it felt to play there and thanking him for the opportunity and how could she make it up to him? She talked a mile a minute and even though their fingers were entwined Felix could hardly look at her for the embarrassment and attention he was receiving. Seeing them all together like this filled Dimitri with warmth and he didn't need any prompt to fill another set of mugs with beer for the band.

"What do I owe you," Mercedes asked him.

Sylvain was quick to lean in. "Just a smile like yours, Mercie."

Felix groaned. "It's on the house. Do you ever stop Sylvain?"

"Nope," he said, straightening with a flourish and no shame whatsoever. "You should see my tip jar. A little flirting gets you a lot at this hour."

"Gets you a lot of what?" Ingrid asked, appearing from behind her bandmates. She slung a leg over a bar stool and as she lowered into her seat the girl behind her shifted into view.

"Congrats to the new vocalist!" Sylvain said, leaning ostentatiously in front of Dimitri to sling a beer in front of her along with a little honey in his voice. "You sounded amazing."

She barely looked at him as she slid on to a stool next to Ingrid and wound her hands around the mug.

"Excuse me," Ingrid said indignantly. "There were four of us up there you know."

"Yes yes yes, of course. But the new girl may need a little extra encouragement, you know?"

Byleth's quirked eyebrow disappeared into the thick, unruly bangs that spilled over her forehead. Dimitri realized he was staring and shifted uncomfortably. He busied himself at the short end of the bar but he could only wipe it down so many times. Maybe she hadn't noticed. Turning back to his friends his stomach pitched again; Byleth was clearly watching him.

Her eyes were dark, black in the dim light of the bar and they were fixed on him in a way that made his heart batter at his ribcage. The sound of the conversation dulled around him; Annette was chatting about something, Ingrid was laughing and he was walking back toward the far side of the bar without fully realizing what he was doing.

She picked up the mug and raised it to her lips, drinking deeply and, from where he was standing, she moved in slow motion. Her hair spilled away from her neck as she tipped her head back and he could see her throat move as she swallowed. Had it been this hot in the bar all night?

The mug was half empty when she returned it to the bar and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. Then he realized she wasn't wearing lipstick at all and that her lips were that natural shade of pink. All of this must have happened in the span of a breath but it seemed like it took an hour for him to walk the five feet from the sidebar back to the group.

Again her eyes landed on him and he swore that she looked him up and down like he'd seen Sylvain do to countless women. He suddenly felt self conscious and in desperate need of something to do. He snatched up a towel and resumed cleaning a glass that he'd certainly dried before.

"Everyone, this is Byleth," Ingrid introduced her. "This is Felix, Sylvain…" each offered a nod and a wave as she named them. "And this is Dimitri," she finished. "We all went to prep school together /grew up together. I think Byleth was in the year ahead of us?"

Byleth nodded, remaining enigmatically quiet. Her lips had curled up into a slight smile that might have been a smirk; it was difficult to tell if she was actually smirking or if her expression was so vague that one could fill it with any intention.

"Come on Byeth, you don't have to be so quiet!' Goaded Annette, who was loud enough for all of them. "She's always so quiet."

"Don't push her, Annie," said Mercedes.

"She doesn't talk much," Annie continued.

"Annie, hush! I'm so sorry," Mercedes leaned over to address Byleth who was once again tilting her head back to drain what remained in her mug.

"I think you talk enough for both of you," muttered Felix but not so low that Annette didn't hear him.

"What? What do you mean by that?"

The lively discussion about whether or not Annie talked too much or too loud was enough to distract Dimitri just enough to forget that he was actively avoiding Byleth's gaze. He laughed and shook his head and made the mistake of looking at her casually. Her empty mug was on the bar top and she was staring at him with those impenetrable eyes again. The tip of her tongue slid along her lower lip to collect the remaining beads of her drink as he watched. There was no one else in the bar but himself and this strange, intoxicating woman.

She gave a toss of her head and her eyes darted to the small alcove where the bathroom doors stood side by side; men and women. He blinked like someone waking up. Was that some sort of twitch, a product of an overactive imagination or was that a specific message? Then she looked back at him and she winked. She winked! While he tried to gather his wits, she slid off her barstool and walked toward the alcove and he couldn't stop gawking at the way her hips made that skirt swish from side to side and just how much of her thighs were visible. No way that was actually a prep school uniform; he was certain of it.

He'd heard of butterflies in the stomach but the tiny bolts of electricity jumping in his gut were definitely not them. Was this actually happening? Was he dreaming? He glanced around at his friends still engaged in a discussion about something he'd forgotten entirely about and no one had batted an eye. Was no one else seeing this? His eyes darted back to the alcove and there she was, standing in front of the men's bathroom door and looking at him over her shoulder. He was positive she was looking at him. He was positive because she gave another nod of her head toward the bathroom door, shoved it open and disappeared inside.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and glanced around one more time to see if anyone was going to say anything and no one had even noticed. The briefest of debates rushed through his brain. Was he right? Was this what he thought it was? Why was she inviting him to the bathroom? Only an idiot wouldn't know why she was inviting him but what if he was mistaken? At the very least shouldn't he check on her?

With shaking hands he put the glass and dish rag down. "I'm gonna close out the bathroom." he said a little louder than he intended.

"Isn't it my night?" Sylvain asked.

"I figured I could…"

"Fine but don't expect me to take your shift tomorrow."

Could it really be this easy? His palms were sweaty as he lifted the side bar. What on Fodlan was he doing? This wasn't the sort of thing Dimitri Blaydid did.

"Where's Byleth?"

"I don't know, went to the bathroom or something."

His stomach lurched but it was too late to turn back now. With a quick glance over his shoulder that wasn't at all guilty, he shoved the door open to the single stall bathroom and knew right away that he wouldn't regret this. There she was, leaning against the sink waiting for him. The light over the sinks covered her in shadow but the way her chest jutted out as she leaned back against the sink made his mouth water.

He shut the door behind him and they stared at one another for an awkward moment. He was terrified that he'd misread the signals or that she was waiting for him to do something but he didn't know what that thing was. What does someone do or say in this situation?

"Should I lock the door?" he asked haltingly, his words dragging out hoping that she would say something but sounding awkward in the process.

She pushed herself up off the sink and stepped forward. He could finally make out the features of her face and she smiled. Not the mysterious, unreadable grin she'd worn at the bar or the smirk she had for Sylvain's flirting; she smiled at him and he felt like he'd just flatlined. She lunged at him and he turned just in time to catch her about the waist from fumbling with the bolt on the door.

Her lips were on his, hungry and fierce and he was kissing her just as intensely; all tongues and swiveling heads. With both hands free, and a locked door at his back, he clutched at her waist and found that her jacket left a gap between her skirt and her stomach. Her skin under his thumbs felt smooth and pliant and as he squeezed her hand darted up the front of his t-shirt.

There was no rhyme or reason to their frenzied groping, mashing of faces and panting breath. Her hands were everywhere beneath his shirt scratching down his chest and stomach, on his back, at his bicep shoving up toward his shoulder, in his hair pulling and twisting. He could barely tell which way was up and there was no time to think. He'd never been manhandled in his life and somehow the freedom from control was just what he needed. His head was spinning and his breath crashed in his ears. She tasted like beer and beeswax lip balm.

With a pop her face jerked back and he pursued her for a hazy second before realizing that she'd broken the kiss. He opened his eyes and she was looking up at him, chest heaving and pink spreading on her cheeks. She was so short, surprisingly so and he'd not noticed while she was on stage or even as she was waiting for him in the bathroom poised and ready to go. He had to look directly down because she was so close. She was so close.

She slipped a hand into the waist line of her skirt and before he could get a good look at what she was doing she pushed him back against the door with surprising strength. Her soft curves flattened against him and he bent his head to catch her lips just as her palm pressed firmly along his cock. An involuntary groan burst out of him and his hips twitched. He could feel her drag her heel of her palm along him through the fabric of his pants and he clearly heard a pleased, hungry sound rumble in her throat. At last, she flipped her other hand up toward his face, and he realized what it was. Poised between two fingers was the silver package of a condom.

He ignored the voice in the back of his mind asking why this girl was prepared for something like this. Instead he took it from her and tore it open with his teeth all the while his eyes glued to her as she backed into the open stall and nimbly unbuttoned her jacket. He couldn't have torn his gaze away from that dazzling smile if he'd wanted to. He was the first to reach for his belt buckle and she bent to remove her panties following his lead.

Neither of them noticed or cared how awkward it was for him to roll a condom over his swollen cock and cover the few small steps to the stall. She flattened her back against the side of the stall and he towered over her. His dipped low to run his tongue along her jawline and press between the fabric of her high necked uniform to find her pounding pulse beneath. She wrapped her arms around him and dug her nails into his ass cheeks. He jerked toward her and sucked her skin between his teeth.

It took dedication and awkward maneuvering but eventually she wedged herself up with feet and legs on either side of his hips and her arms stretched high for her to grasp the top of the stall for support. He steadied himself with a palm flat on the stall wall and worked to angle himself toward her. Her thighs flexed beside him and his knees almost buckled as he crammed the head of his cock inside of her.

With the angle right, he slung an arm behind the small of her back to hold her still so that he could buck his hips up and shove himself deeply between the hot folds of her pussy that pulsed and squeezed against him. Dimitri shut his eyes tight and clamped down on his lower lip hard. She felt unbelievable and it had been so long, he was already near the brink and he'd only just started.

She hissed and he opened his eyes and he nearly stopped at that pained expression on her face but she flexed her knees and swung her hips forward, goading him on. That expression on her face opened up and she pitched her chin up exposing her throat; it was covered in glistening sweat. His breath roared in his ears and caught in his throat with another hard thrust that shook the flimsy walls of the stall and she bit her lip to muffle a loud moan.

Her legs strained and squeezed tightly around his hips as he flexed up, pushing and thrusting into her and the smell at her neck and the wet heat closing around him with each groan and moan that parted her lips was maddening; he was on fire. His hands closed on her waist, pulling her away from the wall of the stall but she held fast. Suspended by her hands clenching the top of the stall and her boots pressing against the wall behind him, her small frame jolting each time he pounded against her.

His breath came in short bursts as he crammed himself inside of her. He was barely pulling out at all now; her quivering walls tightened around him spurring him on to stuff himself as deeply as possible. More. More.

Gradually he realized that word wasn't just a thought but a breathy utterance from the woman in his arms. "I'm close," her voice trembled and the sound sent him over the edge.

Three more huffs and he was coming and her ass slapped against the top of his thighs. Her cunt spasmed around him and she held tight as he jerked and bucked against her. As spilled into the condom, deep inside of her, his legs wobbled and a hand flew up to thud on the stall. His legs shook and trembled and the world around him spun but somehow he stayed up right and then there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the music coming in over the speaker.

A peel of laughter from the bar beyond brought him careening back into himself and he licked his dry lips. He'd borrowed his face against the small of her neck and it took a moment for his head to clear enough that he could raise it to look up at her.

Her face was tilted up and her mouth gaping, the angle of her chin was sharp and he wanted to drag his tongue along it. Her body shook, an aftershock, then she looked at him and the haze of ecstasy faded away to leave the glistening eyes he'd been captured by earlier that evening. He gazed up at her, lost in those bottomless eyes.

"You can pull out of me now."

It was the first he'd heard her speak outside of the formless sounds he fucked out of her. A new kind of heat rushed in to fan across his ears and neck at the sound of her. He stammered his apologies and pulled out of her, keeping a trembling groan to himself in the midst of his embarrassment.

Her boots hit the floor as she hefted herself up right. She turned and stared at him, waiting for him to do or say something and he couldn't figure out what it was until she looked toward the stall door. "Excuse me."

Goddess what was wrong with him! He once again stammered an apology and leaned back so that she could push past him out the stall door which swung shut behind her leaving him with his pants down and his dick in his hands.

In the brief moments it took him to fumble the condom off and reassemble his pants and dignity, she'd washed up and was adjusting her clothing in the mirror. Slowly, her gaze focused from herself in the mirror to him over her shoulder. He could feel himself turn red and knowing somehow made the blush even worse. He scrubbed a hand through his hair when she released him from her gaze to comb her fingers through her messy hair.

"I uh, I've never done this before and …" he swallowed hard and couldn't bear to look in the mirror as he fished in his pockets for something to write on. A receipt and a pen and he scribbled his number on it. "I'd like to take you out. Here's my number."

He held out the slip of paper. She looked at him, unreadable and then at the paper in his hand then back up to him. It was agonizing. Then her teeth flashed white in a smile and a laugh. She gave a shake of her head and turned to leave, effortlessly pushing the door open and disappearing on the other side.

He blinked, completely stunned. He'd walked into this bathroom enough times to a similar scene and not in his wildest dreams did he think he'd ever do the same. He laughed and wadded up the receipt. Certainly he was capable of having a little fun without strings attached, but he would wash his hands.

When he emerged from the bathroom the girls were all on their feet saying their goodbyes and heading toward the door. He lingered in the bathroom alcove watching everyone make their exits, offering a wave and a goodbye to Annette, Felix, Ingrid and Mercie. Byleth met his eyes again and he offered her the same wave to which she smiled again and shook her head; it seemed to be a pattern of her smiling, shaking her head and then pushing her way through a door. He was trying not to dwell on it as Sylvain locked the door behind them.

"Oof what a night," he stretched his arms over his head. "Bar's all straightened up so we're good to go!" He was walking toward him and Dimitri had a momentary flash of panic and had to stop himself from blocking the bathroom. Not that that made a lot of sense - there wasn't anything to find in there; no evidence of the sleazy albeit amazing time he'd just had in there.

"I've gotta piss, we'll sweep up and then be out of here," Sylvain was saying and just as the door swung shut he shouted. "Hey! I thought you were cleaning in here. What the hell were you doing?"

This time it was Dimitri's time to chuckle and shake his head. It was easier not to answer the question so instead he grabbed the push broom from the closet. "It is your night after all, Sylvain."