Title: dream a little dream with me

A/N: For the Seasons of Change zine! My long fic was based in the fall and I wanted to write a flustered Dimitri. A very flustered Dimitri and Byleth knows what she's doing to him. Though, my summary sounds a lot kinker than what I wrote XD

Summary: Dimitri prided himself for his rigid discipline. Until now, when Byleth was sitting between his legs, her head nestled perfectly under his, and testing just how strong his restraint was.

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Dimitri prided himself for his discipline. Unlike his strength, which was unwieldy at times and entirely innate, this was something he had worked on. Something he had earned. Years had been spent, diligently sticking to his tasks, depriving himself of most modicums of pleasure that could distract him. Temptation always existed, the key was learning how to ignore it.

When he'd first met Byleth, he'd thought they were two of a kind. She had been raised as a mercenary, after all, forced to pack lightly as she moved from place to place. There was little room for indulgence, not when every action could have life or death consequences. It was something he had admired since they'd first met. Her eyes were always clear as she looked forward, allowing her to see the full picture of whatever scenario they found themselves in.

At least, that was what he thought.

It was hard to believe that right now. Not when Byleth was sitting between his legs, her back pressed to her chest, her arm grazing his knee as she flipped pages. This close, he could feel her warmth, hear her breath, see the shades of green in her hair. The library was empty save for them, no one around to witness this embarrassingly indulgent scene. As it was, Dimitri hoped no one passing by looked up through the window and caught them in the alcove.

How had they ended up like this? Dimitri swallowed as he stared down at messy moss green hair. His own papers hung limply between his fingertips; he'd long since given up on concentrating on them. Not for the first time, he was glad that he had grown in the past five years. Byleth nestled perfectly between his legs. All he had to do was hunch forward and he could fold her entirely within his frame.

His ears burned.

This wasn't the time or place for these thoughts. The flags around Garreg Mach were at half-mast still. While it had been five years since the start of the war, it was only now they could truly see the school's wreckage. Former students shifted through the rubble, clearing space for supplies and soldiers. Allies died on a daily basis and civilians had long since learned to hide when there was smoke on the horizon. A war raged across the continent; this wasn't the time to wonder what shampoo Byleth was using.

Not that Byleth had any issues with their current positioning. While he panicked internally, she continued to flip through their scout reports with ease. Her fingers didn't tremble as she turned the page, her breathing was even, and she didn't even flinch when he discretely readjusted his position. His heart beat so loud he was certain she could hear it. Yet, if she noticed his tension, she didn't mention it.

He wished she would.

Glancing at the door, Dimitri exhaled softly. Maybe the gods were listening to his pleas; for once there were no soldiers barging in with news. He couldn't get caught like this. He was the leader of the army, in the middle of a continental war. He was a king reclaiming his kingdom and people. He was a commander still dressed in mourning black.

He was utterly frozen in place.

They hadn't been this close since their school days, when they'd meet in cloisters and shadows. Byleth tilted her head and her hair shifted slightly, just enough to reveal a pale nape. It would be too easy to lean down and kiss it. To roughly grab her wrists and turn her jaw and—

Dimitri bit his cheek hard. He shouldn't be thinking of this. He shouldn't be remembering other, similar times they'd been like this. And he definitely shouldn't be remembering what happened after his teeth grazed her skin.

The numbers on his reports told him just why he shouldn't have such frivolous thoughts. There was no such thing as an easy victory, and Edelgard had always been a brilliant tactician. They'd be lucky if they eked out a win.

"You're staring," Byleth stated nonchalantly as she flipped the page. Despite her words, she didn't move, didn't try to escape.

So she had noticed. That made him feel marginally better. His neck heated up slightly and he didn't need a mirror to know that his embarrassed flush had grown. Dimitri cleared his throat. "I am surprised you want to sit like this."

"Why?" she asked, her thumb flicking the edges of the report thoughtfully. Gracefully, she pushed back a stray strand of hair behind her ear and glanced back at him coquettishly. "You want me to move?"

"No." The words shot out of him like a cannon, escaping his lips before he could even think. Dimitri closed his eyes and winced. Maybe it was the library, maybe it was their closeness, but he felt like an awkward teenager again, filled with Sylvain's terrible advice as he tried to court the one he had long admired. The years just melted away, leaving behind the naïve boy he had forced himself to forget. "That…that is not why I asked."

"Good." Byleth chuckled softly, relaxing further into his embrace. Her hair tickled his nape, her shoulders lowering as she reclined against his chest. She patted his knee. "I like my spot."

She had to know what he was doing, how he was reacting. Dimitri couldn't even pick her up and move her away. With the way he felt right now, he was too afraid he'd accidentally toss her.

Too afraid she'd see his trembling hands for what they were.

He forced his gaze outside the window. The warm sunlight had forced him to abandon his fur-lined cape long ago. It should be easier to form his thoughts when he focused on a make-shift camps outside, the soldiers continuing their work despite the turmoil and changes of the past few weeks.

Somehow, not seeing her made it worse. He could feel every place they connected, as though she were burning him. The clean, simple scent of soap filled the air, erasing every other musty smell in the library. Byleth had always used the plainest, cheapest cleaning products. Her soft, even breathing was barely audible over the thrumming of his heart.

"Are you certain? Is it not uncomfortable?" Dimitri asked quietly.

Byleth snorted, incredulous. "Do I ever second guess myself?"

"No," he reluctantly admitted. Every move of hers was decisive, regardless of the outcome. Whether it was war or selecting their cooking schedule, Byleth never backed down nor looked back. Her gaze was always firmly set forward.

"Then there's your answer." Byleth licked her lips as she turned a page. In the semi-transparent reflection in the mirror, Dimitri caught a flash of pink tongue.

He should work. Dimitri glanced at the papers dangling from his grasp. It was a logistics issue, a fault in the supply chain. He needed to fix it before the next battle. Yet, the words swam and clashed against one another, none of them feeling important right now. None of them mattered when Byleth was this close.

Maybe Byleth sensed his growing unease for she sighed and set down her papers. In a single, swift move, she turned in his arms to face him. Her eyes glowed in the sunlight. Her hands gripped his shoulders lightly. This was worse. There was nowhere to hide from her gaze. She remained silent, simply observing him.

"Byleth?" he choked out.

"Is something wrong?" It didn't sound like a question. Not when she stared at him so pensively. Even now, she was ever the teacher, pulling answers out of him to questions he didn't even know he had.

"This…" Dimitri couldn't get up, trapped as he was under her. He weakly gestured between them. "We should not be like this."

"Shouldn't be like what?" Byleth pressed impatiently. Her breath ghosted his neck.

He caught his reflection in her eyes, his flat lips, his wide eye, his clenched jaw. Regardless of how he felt, at least he didn't appear overly flustered. Maybe that was what experience did. It calmed him and he slowed his breathing.

"We shouldn't be this close," he gently chided.

As usual, his warning rolled right off her. Shame and embarrassment didn't exist for her. Byleth raised a brow. "There is no one to see. Even then, you are a king. Who would complain?"

"Still…" Dimitri trailed off. The civilities of the court meant little to Byleth, though they had been drilled in him since day one.

Byleth pursed her lips. "What's wrong?"

There was a simple answer to the simple question. Dimitri couldn't bring himself to say it. To utter it aloud would shatter this moment and as guilty as he felt, he was still only a man. A greedy man.

"Dimitri." She reached up, her hand cupping his cheek. It was impossible not to lean into her touch, to close his eye and simply accept her kindness. Her thumb gently stroked his skin. "Please."

"Is this allowed?" he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

"What is?" Her other hand rested on his shoulder, her clothes rustling as she sat up.

He didn't open his eye. It was easier to talk like this, to pretend he was only saying this to himself. "This." His right hand gripped her waist lightly. "Any of this."

"Why?" Byleth asked. The hand on his shoulder slid down his arm and squeezed his hand. He could feel her calluses and scars, the reminders of all she had ever fought for.

Like him. Even when she hadn't even known his name, she had fought and protected him. He turned his wrist, interlacing their fingers as he wished for some of her strength. Even with his bloodline and crest, Byleth had always been far more powerful than he would ever be.

"We're in a war." The excuses were easy enough to say. Even without his ghosts reminding him, Dimitri doubted he could forget. "People have died—Rodrigo is dead. The country's torn apart. I…What I've done…"

The blood on his hands couldn't be explained away as merely self-defence. There was a difference between killing and slaughtering, and he had crossed the line far too many times.

"War doesn't stop us from living," she answered easily. "We've all done things. My hands are no cleaner than yours. You've regretted and repented, that doesn't mean you need to stand still."

Straight to the point and blunt as ever, Byleth cut through his fears with a single stroke. Everything sounded simple when she laid it out. Her words left no room to argue.

Yet, he had to try. "But—"

Byleth tightened her grip on his hand. "Dimitri, look at me."

He couldn't reject her command. His eye flew open. Her expression was soft, far softer than he'd thought possible for her.

"What is wrong?" she asked a third time.

This time, he couldn't lie. "I'm not allowed this. After all I've done, I…I can't…I shouldn't…"

Her thumb moved from his cheek to the edge of his lips and Byleth pressed lightly, effectively shutting him up. "Dimitri," she said carefully. "You are allowed happiness. Always."

His stomach roiled. "After everything—"

She cut him off. "Especially after everything. There are none who know you who would wish otherwise."

Edelgard was the easy rebuke, but he couldn't say his childhood friend knew him. Not anymore. That summer felt impossibly far away, a mirage, a dream, a fleeting spark that had died before it could burn. The possibilities that had existed when they had danced had popped like a bubble by the time they reunited.

As though she sensed his thoughts, Byleth added, "Those that truly know you wish for your joy." She squeezed their interlaced fingers. "Me especially."

"And I yours," he replied automatically, his free hand rising up to cover hers on his cheek. "Always."

She smiled faintly. Her smiles were always like that, quicksilver, almost impossible to catch. It wasn't long before her expression grew somber once more. "Then please, stop denying yourself."

"Is it denial?" he asked half-heartedly, a last-ditch protest.

"I lost five years," Byleth replied. She looked away, out the window. Not for the first time, he wondered what she saw. The crumbling buildings outside or the school of yesteryear? When she saw him, did she see the diligent youth or the mad king? Sometimes, her gaze seemed far away, as though she were living in the past and not the present, as though she were there and not here.

And then she turned back to him, her stare steady and solid.

"I lost five years," she repeated, louder now. "Not just my time. Your time. Our house's time. The things I missed…" She swallowed hard. "Even before that, the people I missed…"

He didn't have to ask to know she was thinking of Jeralt. Of her father's last conversation, of the questions left unasked and unanswered, the things she didn't say or do. His death had come far too quickly.

Her intertwined fingers squeezed his one last time before she extracted them from his grip. Both her hands clasped his face, forcing him to still. "I have lost many things and I have more regrets than I want to bear. I am tired of losing things to rue and ghosts."

When she laid it out so clearly, he felt foolish. Maybe he'd been the one stuck in a stasis for five years, barely growing, barely changing. The ghosts lingered still, in the corner of his eyes, reminders of a guilt that he doubted would ever leave him.

But just like her regrets, they didn't have to come any further than that. They could live in the shadows, buzz the back of his head, but no longer control his actions.

He gave up. "Me too."

"Good." She leaned forward, kissing him softly. He stiffened, surprised. After a moment, she pulled back and rested her forehead against his. "Let's not lose anything else."

"Oh," was the only intelligible sound he could make. He had forgotten how daring she could be.

"Glad you get it." She smirked as she pushed away. Her hand reached down for the long-forgotten reports. "Then I don't want to hear about this again."

Something gnawed within him. He had forgotten just how much he had craved her touch.

Maybe it was time he took a step forward himself. Before Byleth could retreat any further, Dimitri grasped her neck, his other hand clamping down on her arm as he pulled her closer. Giving into temptation, he folded her into his frame as he kissed her. Her hands immediately wrapped around him, her nails digging into his back, and maybe he hadn't been the only one denying himself recently.