Black Eagles—MaleBylethxLinhardt—Garland Moon
The courtyard outside of the classroom bustled with activity. Students and teachers alike passed through on their ways to other places, Edelgard and Hubert stood within the nearby pillars, deep in conversation; on the far end, Sylvain flirted with a group of girls, and on the other side Annette, Lysithea, and a girl from the Golden Deer Byleth had yet to get acquainted with had formed a study group.
And in the middle of it all, Linhardt laid like a corpse in the grass. His hands were folded atop his stomach, a grey cat curled up atop his chest, and his eyes were comfortably shut, as if the world around him didn't exist.
He looked so comfortable, Byleth didn't want to wake him. It was getting harder and harder to wake the boy whenever he fell asleep. The only way he could describe it was that it felt like disturbing a warrior absorbed in training. Linhardt, of course, was much less intense, but it was still the comparison that came to mind.
There was no reason to wake the boy now...but for some reason, Byleth was compelled. He found himself walking over to him. The cat lifted its head at his approach, but when he knelt to pet it, it suddenly vaulted off of Linhardt and the boy awoke with a sharp gasp.
"Wha..? Oh, Professor?" The bleariness wore from his eyes as he yawned. He sat up and stretched his shoulders. "What brings you to the classrooms on such a fine day?"
He showed his student the thin stack of papers in his hand. "I had to get materials to prepare for next week's lectures."
"But isn't today your day off? You should just enjoy it." The boy laid back down, stretched his arms above his head, then crossed them there and closed his eyes again.
"Or I could tutor you on the materials you missed while sleeping in my class this week."
Linhardt cracked open an eye, gave him a look, and closed it again. Originally, Byleth would have assumed he was ignoring him entirely, but over the past few months he'd learned that slight purse of his lips meant the boy was thinking about what he'd said.
"...Okay. I don't see why not. I might as well take my lessons lounging in the grass on a nice day if I can."
"In that case, keep your eyes open."
"You doubt me Professor? I'm hurt."
Even so, he complied and looked up at his teacher, waiting.
"How much of yesterday's lecture did you get?"
"Yesterday's? Not a lot. I can't say I'm fond of the history of weaponry. It just doesn't seem to have a current application."
"Even if you specialize in magic and strategy, the knowledge has its uses."
The boy twisted his head to better face Byleth, interest piqued. "How so?"
"An intimate knowledge of how your comrades' weapons work will help you formulate strategies. It's a weakness to be lacking in a field just because you don't put it into practice yourself."
This time, Linhardt sat up. "You're not incorrect, but how does the history of a weapon's creation help me in regards to that?"
"If you know the purpose of a weapon, and in what ways it was forged to achieve that purpose, you can gain insight on how the weapon can be used, where its weaknesses lie, and learn how to take advantage of its strengths and cover its weaknesses."
"I see." Linhart crossed his legs, his fingers gripping his chin as he fell into thought. "You could be right. I still think the topic is a massive bore, but perhaps it is indeed worth staying awake for. You know, Professor—" Linhardt let his hand drop and shifted to better face him. "—I had my doubts at first, but you're actually rather good at your job. The others must share my opinion. Otherwise Hubert would have gotten rid of you at least a month ago."
Byleth didn't need to be reminded of the man who'd threatened his life so easily, the very one who, even as he spoke with Edelgard a distance away, still kept a quiet and looming eye on him. The glimmer in Linhardt's eye made it obvious the boy was messing with him.
"If that's what you think, then reward me by paying attention in class."
"Reward you?" The mischief in his eyes glinted brighter, and he leaned in a hair closer. "A student, rewarding his teacher? Wouldn't that be inappropriate, Professor?"
Oh? Linhardt was playing with him. The realization came as a surprise, and perhaps, for a brief moment, the teacher let it show on his face. Then his mask was back, accompanied by a silent admittance that the boy's behavior...was entertaining.
"Paying attention in class is far from inappropriate. But if I decided to tutor you in private, where no one could see us…"
A grin spread on Linhardt's face even as he was surprised by Byleth's response. It was the most amused Byleth had ever seen him. "Now, now, Professor, you mustn't go saying things like that. People could misunderstand."
"You're the one misunderstanding." He tapped his papers in light chastation on the boy's head, and Linhardt snickered. Yet another new behavior from the boy. When had he opened up so much? Sure, they'd shared a few conversations about crests and magic, but that was one thing. When Linhardt began talking about such things, all his enthusiasm and attention went into the subject. He then had little care to spare for his conversation partner. But apparently, that was enough for him to get comfortable with him.
Well, Byleth supposed he'd grown to enjoy spending time with him over the past three months. It wasn't unbelievable that Linhardt felt the same.