Work Header

Like Cobalt - Rarepair Week

Chapter Text


I. Leaves

A shower of every shade ranging from red to yellow fell around them in lazy drops of foliage, and Jeralt couldn't help but be stunned by such a magnificent sight.

"...Amazing," Jeralt blurts out, immediately flushing to his very roots at how his voice had pitched a bit high towards the end.

"Isn't it?" Lambert merely laughs, pushing an errant lock of hair behind his ears. For once, the King had forgone his usual slicked back hair and had instead settled for an extremely short ponytail that jutted out terribly from above his collar. "Fhirdiad is usually covered in snow for most of the year, but the trees here in my home dukedom are like the ones in the Empire and change every season regardless of the weather," he explains.

"Well," Jeralt starts, tasting the words practically dancing on his tongue. "I'm glad you brought me here then. I'd started to grow bored of the snow back at your castle, no offense," he adds, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture.

Lambert's smile only widens, tilting his head as his eyes squint happily. "Yet it appears your daughter has taken to it like a fish with water," he jests.

Jeralt rolls his eyes. "She got that from her mother," he huffs, before his gaze strays towards the top of Lambert's head where it appears a stray orange leaf had landed. "Oh, wait, stay still," he warns, before he leans in and reaches up to grab the leaf off of the royal's head, suddenly very much aware of how Lambert towers over him a good head. "Here. I just got this off of you," he chuckles, brandishing the leaf towards Lambert as if it was a prize.

When he receives no response, Jeralt blinks slowly at the King's surprised expression, wondering if his Majesty had perhaps caught some sort of seasonal flu with how red his cheeks are becoming.

II. Spice

"Look," Jeralt starts, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible despite his inner thoughts telling him to scream with all his might. "Next time, if you don't know something, just tell me . I can do it for the both of us," he sighs, rubbing his temples.

Lambert fidgets from where he's seated by the dining table, guiltily looking at his lap. "But that doesn't seem fair..." He murmurs.

"Then you can be in charge of hunting and skinning whatever you've caught," easily deflects Jeralt as he crosses his arms and gives the King an unimpressed look. "From now on, you're explicitly banned from cooking. No, in fact, you're banned from entering the kitchen. That's how much you fucked up with dinner," he deadpans.

"...I didn't do too bad," sulks Lambert. "It's edible?"

"You're gonna give somebody a heart attack with this!" Jeralt exclaims, gesturing to the bowl of questionable contents that literally bubbled . It's not even hot anymore! "Who told you that it was okay to add so much cayenne and salt into it?! Just a pinch or two would be fine!"

"But didn't you like your food spicy?" Lambert brings up with a downward tilt to his mouth.

"Only when I can actually keep it in my mouth!" Jeralt exclaims. "No! More! Cooking! For You!" He emphasizes.

III. Pumpkin

Lambert stares dumbly at the large orange vegetable.

Said vegetable is silent as it lays— quite contently , Lambert couldn't help but bitterly assume—within Jeralt's embrace.

"Isn't it adorable?" Jeralt beams, despite the dirt smudged on his cheek from all his gardening. "It grew up so healthily and brightly too! Look, look! It's so big and orange!" He marvels at the inanimate object in his arms.

Lambert can practically see the hearts in Jeralt's eyes with how much Jeralt gushes over—over a dumb vegetable!

"Yeah," agrees Lambert just for the sake of polite conversation. "It sure did." He narrows his eyes at the current object of Jeralt's affections, wishing that he could make the stupid thing combust.

"I've got to show this to Byleth," realizes Jeralt, jaw dropping in a state of big brain. "She'll love it! " He insists, clutching the orange vegetable closer to his chest.

Lambert's hand twitches towards Areadbhar, fingers just grazing the warm metal.

"She will," Lambert agrees once more, smiling. "But I'm sure she'll love pumpkin soup more," he suggests.

Jeralt blinks. "Oh...You're right. I should save this for when she comes to visit." He bobs his head, a determined expression twisting his features.

Cute , thinks Lambert, momentarily blindsided by how obliviously adorable Jeralt could be at times. "Here. Let me store it for you," Lambert offers, bringing his arms out to take the dumb thing far away from the other man.

"Oh. Thanks, Lambert! You can put it in the shed!" Jeralt says, before his attention is attracted by the sudden ringing of a bell coming from outside. "Oh. Looks like one of my traps caught something. I'll go check it out." He then proceeds to bid goodbye, grabbing his own lance on the way out.

Once the door shuts close, Lambert looks down at the ginormous vegetable in his own arms.

Aw , thinks Lambert, finding Jeralt's assumption of the vegetable quite accurate once it no longer held the other man's attention. Too bad you still have to go .

The pumpkin was never served when Byleth came to drop by. When Jeralt had asked what had happened to the pumpkin, Lambert had merely looked down sadly at his toes and lied through his teeth that rats had gotten to it so he had to throw it out.