FE3H one shots :)

(FxM) .Hubert.

This one is LONG AF// Some language.

"This is ridiculous." Hubert groaned, peering into his empty coffee cup for the fourth time- hoping if he looked close enough it would refill.

"You were the one who was so firm on not starting the meeting without her." Lindhart sighed, his head planted on the wooden table, green locks of hair covering his book of 'war notes'- a book that always remained empty of war notes. 

"Yes. Well. I didn't know she was going to be twenty minutes late-" 

"And counting." Caspar prodded Lindhardt's nose with the tip of his quill feather from across the table, lazily slurring his words for once in his lifetime. "Come on, we know you have a soft-spot for her ,but I'm sure you could just give her your notes from the Professor." The cyan haired male frowned as his life-long best friend snatched the quill and broke it in half in front of his very eyes.

Hubert glanced to the doors at the other end of the room, they were still firmly closed and the halls outside lay tranquil as ever, no footsteps could be heard running across the second floor halls. "I don't have a good feeling about this." 

"Hubie is right, ___ is never late." Dorothea piped up, half smiling at the broken quill that lay withering before Caspar. "Perhaps I should check on her." The brunette woman pulled back her chair and closed her books, waiting for the jump Hubert was going to make.

"I'll go." Hubert coughed, mimicking the singers actions and closing his own books- eyeing her from the other end of the cold room coated in stone.

"But you're Imperial Minister, I'm just a singer~"  She mused, watching Hubert get worked up over ___ was one her favourite pass times; even better was teasing him over it afterwards over a shared meal in the dining hall.

"I. Will. Go." Hubert growled, thin fingers pulling on his dark collar and then brushing locks of hair out of his snake eyes. "Stay here. The lot of you."

"Your laces are undone Hubert." Ferdinand pointed below the table at Hubert's very clearly buckled black boots. 

"They are? I'm sure I-" The senior of the group raised his arms up and peered down at his boots which had not one lace, nor thread out of place. In fact the man never wore shoes with laces unless he was attending a ball of some sorts. "Great."

"You're getting soft in your old age." Lindhardt chuckled, looking at Hubert sideways- still not moving his head off the table despite Caspar's complaints of breaking his years old quill right before him. "I must give ___ her monthly pay check for keeping you from going back to that nag you were." Lin's deep eyes blinked a few times, watching Hubert's brain work speeds trying to read the conversation as being sarcasm or truth.

"You jape." He concluded, sniffing in disgust at the fact that all of these people exploited his one weakness, in fact he thought he had hid it rather well for nearly six years.

"Correct, I'd buy her a horse and carriage dressed in gold each month, if I could." 

"Fuck off."

***

A firm rattle on your doors brought you to some sense, what was this you were going through? So much pain and a bucket of vomit to go along with it. 

Shit, the bucket.

"Er-just a..moment.." You gasped, the lack of breath getting to you as your weak body used up the remains of it's energy to drag the bucket under your bed and throw a spare blanket coated in breadcrumbs over the gap between the bed and the wooden planks that was your bedroom floor. "Come in."