[There are plenty of reasons, as always, for Constantin to politely refuse to go on yet another hunting trip with Felix. He is absolute shit with any given weapon, let alone the sit still for a long time and take aim kind, of course, this is not a flaw he's improved upon at all in recent weeks— and that other thing, how much sitting still is involved, and how much it chafes against his entire soul and being to sit still and be quiet. Frankly, the long, seemingly endless days of these hunting trips are unbearable. He doesn't mind at all when Felix declares that he's going on one without inviting him, lord have mercy, it's fine...
But when Felix does ask, in his kind of gruff, mostly roundabout ways, Constantin always does say yes. He knows Felix wouldn't put up with him tagging along just to be polite, so on those rare few occasions he's actually invited - yes, he will endure sleeping on the ground and sitting still counting blades of grass or whatever he must do for hours on end.
It's worth it primarily for the nights, anyway; yes, watching Felix prepare what he's hunted is always fairly disgusting, and yes, Constantin splutters and huffs every time over the slightest suggestion that he stick his hands in some rabbit entrails, or whatever— he just throws sticks on the fire! That's his job! Sticks and the pleasure of his company, thank you very much sir!
—Still! That's part of the charm, the gross animal stuff, for it lead to talking in the dying firelight with no company but each other and the sounds of the forest; it leads to watching Felix soften around the edges, just enough to warm Constantin deep in his chest, and the hours spent flicking pebbles (until he's scolded for it) seem very much worth it in the end.
And sometimes it leads to just enough mutual tenderness that hastily retiring into the tent takes precedence over all that sappy gazing in the firelight stuff, hard ground and relative cramped space of the tent be damned.
Sometimes, a tent can be very romantic, actually.
So: there's that, and afterward somehow every time Constantin shifts even a little bit to get more comfortable, he manages to jostle the whole tent. It has not collapsed yet, but he is still fidgeting, so maybe.]
This is absurd, [he says, but like, in a fun and funny way. Help him, Felix...]
[The gross animal stuff honestly is part of the charm? Or so (some part of) Felix hopes, at least, because dressing a rabbit is honestly all that he currently has to offer. The meat is tossed into a simple, yet tasty, stew; the hide is left to cure by the fire; the bones are buried far, far away, in the hopes that Constantin will forget about them entirely. A rabbit is a rabbit, after all! A rabbit. Far be it from Felix to lose sleep over such a stupid creature.
But here Felix is, anyway! Stomach full as he stares at this side of the tent, feeling Constantin toss to and fro behind him. Ridiculous, given how comfortable this tent is; like, Felix is used to sharing such cramped quarters with at least three other individuals, whose combined snoring threatens to wake the dead. Sharing a tent with one (1) person is a luxury, really. Felix has plenty of room to straighten his legs—and to huffily turn about, glaring at the dim shape that is Constantin. Sir—]
What? [he hisses, pulling that much more of the shared blanket to his side of the tent. Suffer, Constantin.] Stay still.
[It's, like, 11pm? Local loser is trying to sleep, despite the warmth of the person pressed so close to him.]
[Felix, please love and cherish him, despite his wiggles? Sleeping at 11pm is wild enough, but demanding he stay still in this tent that is not his very large and way more luxurious bed is silly! Is romance truly dead...?
Evidently, since some people aren't even sharing blankets like gentlemen. Constantin makes a noise of protest and does not stay still, moving in even closer to Felix not to grab for the edge of the blanket and pull it back but to squish his cheek against Felix's shoulder instead; please, take pity on him, he is in peril.]
Felix... Next you'll tell me to relax! Are you relaxed, in this infinitesimal scrap of a tent?
[He doesn't have to be nice to the tent, just Felix. The tent deserves his whining. Felix cannot escape said whining, however, especially not as Constantin slides an arm around him, under the traitor blanket. Indulge him...]
[There is so much room in this tent? God damn? And yet there is so little room left between them, as Constantin's arm snakes over his side, and—ah. What should be too much simply isn't, because Constantin is Constantin; like, there is a brief moment of surprise, but while Felix stiffens, Felix is quick to huff out a breath. Sir, take two...]
I would be. [Hmph!] You make it difficult.
[He is just sayin', thanks, and he shifts ever so slightly, one hand coming to rest atop Constantin's shoulder. He should shove Constantin away, perhaps; this would all be easier to deal with, were Felix to face the opposite direction, and yet, as he struggles to find that familiar face in the darkness:]
[Consider: don't push him? He will no doubt roll away theatrically and bring down the entire tent, possibly on purpose. Endure him and his clinging for the sake of the tent's integrity, thank you.]
Certainly not! Who would take me camping, besides you?
[Don't think too hard about it, just think of this as a fond privilege. It sort of is? He'd rather latch his octopus arms onto Felix in this tent more than anyone else...
So, he's never made anything difficult in his life, the end.]
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the thread of legend
But when Felix does ask, in his kind of gruff, mostly roundabout ways, Constantin always does say yes. He knows Felix wouldn't put up with him tagging along just to be polite, so on those rare few occasions he's actually invited - yes, he will endure sleeping on the ground and sitting still counting blades of grass or whatever he must do for hours on end.
It's worth it primarily for the nights, anyway; yes, watching Felix prepare what he's hunted is always fairly disgusting, and yes, Constantin splutters and huffs every time over the slightest suggestion that he stick his hands in some rabbit entrails, or whatever— he just throws sticks on the fire! That's his job! Sticks and the pleasure of his company, thank you very much sir!
—Still! That's part of the charm, the gross animal stuff, for it lead to talking in the dying firelight with no company but each other and the sounds of the forest; it leads to watching Felix soften around the edges, just enough to warm Constantin deep in his chest, and the hours spent flicking pebbles (until he's scolded for it) seem very much worth it in the end.
And sometimes it leads to just enough mutual tenderness that hastily retiring into the tent takes precedence over all that sappy gazing in the firelight stuff, hard ground and relative cramped space of the tent be damned.
Sometimes, a tent can be very romantic, actually.
So: there's that, and afterward somehow every time Constantin shifts even a little bit to get more comfortable, he manages to jostle the whole tent. It has not collapsed yet, but he is still fidgeting, so maybe.]
This is absurd, [he says, but like, in a fun and funny way. Help him, Felix...]
bless you
But here Felix is, anyway! Stomach full as he stares at this side of the tent, feeling Constantin toss to and fro behind him. Ridiculous, given how comfortable this tent is; like, Felix is used to sharing such cramped quarters with at least three other individuals, whose combined snoring threatens to wake the dead. Sharing a tent with one (1) person is a luxury, really. Felix has plenty of room to straighten his legs—and to huffily turn about, glaring at the dim shape that is Constantin. Sir—]
What? [he hisses, pulling that much more of the shared blanket to his side of the tent. Suffer, Constantin.] Stay still.
[It's, like, 11pm? Local loser is trying to sleep, despite the warmth of the person pressed so close to him.]
no subject
Evidently, since some people aren't even sharing blankets like gentlemen. Constantin makes a noise of protest and does not stay still, moving in even closer to Felix not to grab for the edge of the blanket and pull it back but to squish his cheek against Felix's shoulder instead; please, take pity on him, he is in peril.]
Felix... Next you'll tell me to relax! Are you relaxed, in this infinitesimal scrap of a tent?
[He doesn't have to be nice to the tent, just Felix. The tent deserves his whining. Felix cannot escape said whining, however, especially not as Constantin slides an arm around him, under the traitor blanket. Indulge him...]
no subject
I would be. [Hmph!] You make it difficult.
[He is just sayin', thanks, and he shifts ever so slightly, one hand coming to rest atop Constantin's shoulder. He should shove Constantin away, perhaps; this would all be easier to deal with, were Felix to face the opposite direction, and yet, as he struggles to find that familiar face in the darkness:]
You've never shared a tent?
[He's never been hunting??? Wack.]
no subject
Certainly not! Who would take me camping, besides you?
[Don't think too hard about it, just think of this as a fond privilege. It sort of is? He'd rather latch his octopus arms onto Felix in this tent more than anyone else...
So, he's never made anything difficult in his life, the end.]
Don't be cross.