#FUCK I GOTTA RESPOND TO MY INBOX oops

[writer-darling]

Soup for the Soul

Rating: M (Mature - Minors DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x GN!Reader

Warnings: I feel like I should call this a “self-insert” because it is based on personal experience but also I’ve never written self-insert and barely have any idea what it means sooooo… lukewarm self-insert? Idk. Explicit descriptions of sickness, but nothing “gross.” Mentions of the body/body parts but nothing descriptive. Adult language. Suggestive language. Mentions of doctors and medications. Mentions of food. Established relationship. Typical couple-y flirting, even in semi-dire situations. Ezra being a flirt. Caretaking, and also poor home remedy practices (always go to a doctor first, folks). Ezra being a stronghold for his beloved. Kissing (What I will say about kissing someone who is very sick: DONOTDOTHISDONOTDOTHISDONOTDOTHISDONOT-). WOOH NELLY, that was a lot. I think that’s it, but if there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in (:

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary!: You become severely ill and your boyfriend becomes your caretaker. That’s it.

******

You wake up feeling strange. There’s pressure behind your eyes and with every new sound, it pulsates against your cranium, like your skull’s about to burst. You’re shivering violently, chills running down your spine, even as your face feels hot. It’s gotta be damn near-freezing. You clutch the blanket your boyfriend had draped over you and curl in on yourself, trying to stop the shivers while also trying to preserve as much of your body heat as possible. 

Your throat and lips feel drier than the Sahara so you try to gather some saliva to swallow down and lick your lips as you weakly raise your head.

Looking around, you remember why you’re on the living room couch. You had gotten home from work, feeling something akin to a strong headache coming on. So, you had taken a mild over-the-counter to relieve it and had decided to nap to see if when you woke up, you felt better. Stars, were you wrong about that.

“Ezra,” you call out, suddenly surprised at the strength in your voice. All these symptoms point to the flu, but your throat feels fine now that the dryness is gone, and you’re not coughing your lungs out. You’re not sneezing, no stuffy, and/or runny nose. No phlegm.

“Comin’, light of my life, just whippin’ us up some grub for dinner!” He calls back. You groan quietly, clenching your eyes shut as each word of his response is punctuated with an agonizing pulse. The chills also seem to worsen, and it’s comical how loudly your teeth chatter. 

You forgot that it was Ezra’s turn to cook tonight. Well at least whatever he was preparing smelled fantastic, a distraction - albeit minimal - from the pain you were experiencing. Only a couple of minutes later, you hear his steps. 

“Now, what- oh shit.” You hear him rush over, dropping whatever had been in his hands on the floor - nothing breakable at least (also thank the stars for carpets). “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me, baby, c’mon.” His voice is quiet but with clear worried desperation in his tone. You do as he says and his eyes are the first thing you see, searching your face in a panic. He’s kneeling beside you already and he grabs your face in his hands, wincing as he feels the heat radiating from your entire head.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He mumbles in shock and you smirk, closing your eyes for a moment to relieve the pressure in your skull.

“D-Don’t steal my line, h-handsome.” You mumble back. 

“I meant you’re burning up, sweetheart.” Despite his worry, you can hear the dry amusement in his voice.

“O-oops. St-Still mean it.” You shrug one shoulder, nonchalant.

“Let me get the thermometer.” He mumbles, leaving your side and going to look for it in the bathroom medicine cabinet. He comes back and places it under your tongue, bringing it out and reading it once it beeps. “You’re at 102.7. I need to get you in the bathtub, now.” He says,

“I’m t-too cold Ezra.” You respond but he shakes his head in protest.

“That’s not possible, your body is scorching!” He doesn’t yell, but even speaking at a normal volume has you clenching your eyes and wincing. “Fuck-shit-goddamnit, sweetheart I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” He says, immediately dropping his voice to that previous whisper. You open your eyes and see his regret. Instead of arguing further, you grab his hand in both of yours and watch his mouth slightly drop open as his gaze falls to your joined hands. Your touch is ice cold, even with the raging fever. His eyes meet yours.

“F-feet t-too. A-And my nose. It’s l-like all my b-body heat and c-circulation moved to the m-middle of my b-b-body.” He hesitates for only a moment before standing up.

“We need to regulate your temperature; I’m gonna make the water as warm but balanced as I can. Just wait for a few minutes, yeah?” You nod, unable to do much else and he goes. 

It takes less than three before Ezra walks up to you again. The arms of his dark long-sleeve have been pushed up to his elbows, a look you’ve always liked on him. Funny to think it’s all you can focus on, especially right now.

“Sweetheart, can you walk with me to the bathroom?” He asks. In all honesty, you’re not sure. The chills haven’t gotten much worse, but it feels like all of your energy dropped from one moment to the next. Your limbs could be cooked noodles for all you cared. But you had to give it a shot, knowing Ezra would worry.

“I-I c-can try.” He nods and you slowly sit up, your chills still present as the blanket falls away from your form. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, you pull your feet out from under the warmth of the blanket before touching the carpet. He holds out his arms to you as he slightly leans over your form, his body in a solid stance.

“Hold onto me, don’t let go until you feel steady.” He instructs. You nod, and hook one arm under his shoulder and the other around the bottom of his neck, almost a bear hug. You notice last minute that you’re sweaty and almost pull away, but it’s too late to turn back. “Here we go.” He’s slow as possible to help you stand but the room still spins. You panic as you feel a strong wave of nausea and shut your eyes, crushing him to you. He knows instantly, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your back as he shushes you gently.

“Easy, easy, sweetheart. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” His voice is sure, steady. The exact opposite of how you feel. But you keep your eyes closed, willing the pain and nausea away, even if just for the few short steps to the bathroom. They both subside after a moment, and you pull back from him. He looks at you, his eyes questioning. You nod and give a weak smile. He slowly releases you, moving to stand beside you and placing one arm around your waist - bringing you closer to him - while the other grabs your hand. Again, he keeps his grip firm and steady, even as he rubs more soothing circles on the back of your palm with his thumb. You notice out of the corner of your eye that he dropped a spatula on the carpet, thankfully clean.

The short trip to the bathroom felt more like your own trip through Dante’s Inferno than just 20 feet. Ezra being your Virgil of course and not letting you falter even once, his voice reassuring you every step of the way. The bathroom doesn’t feel warm, steamy, and slightly damp, as you had hoped. He leads you to the edge of the tub, and you release his hand only to dip the tips of your fingers in the water. It’s on the warmer side of room temp to your hands, so you bring it up to your cheek. There though, it feels cool. You look at Ezra with uncertainty.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’ll just be for a little bit; 15 minutes tops.” You look back at the water and then at him before taking a deep breath for courage and nodding. He helps you undress and then guides you into the tub. As soon as the water goes above your ankles, you begin shivering again but he doesn’t let you stop, instead his voice becoming a constant stream of encouragement as he helps lower you in. You’re almost submerged, stopping right below your chin. Your knees are bent and sticking up out of the water so you can sink your upper half into the bath. You now notice the large cup Ezra grabs. He dips it into the water and fills it halfway.

“Tilt your head back and close your eyes.” You do as he says and feel the water being poured over your head a moment later. It feels good, the cooling sensation driving away the pain in your head. After another cup of water down your hair, he sets it aside momentarily. You watch as he grabs your shampoo, using the exact amount you use and emulsifying it between his palms, the exact same way you do. You lean closer towards him until he can comfortably cover all your hair with the product.

“I can do this myself, love. I’m feeling ions better already.” You say, and you mean it. Your voice is already stronger and no longer shaky as your body finally grows accustomed to the water’s temperature.

“I know, now close your eyes please.” Is his only reply. You smile to yourself and comply as he begins rubbing the shampoo over the top of your hair. He gives you a head massage, greatly relieving your pain further and you almost moan out loud from the relief you feel. He doesn’t linger too much, as every minute makes the water colder, and grabs the cup to rinse your hair. The same happens with the conditioner, though he focuses on the ends of your hair, again using the exact amount you use. After rinsing that off, he uses your body wash and your exfoliating rag to scrub your upper body, being gentle but quick.

“How the heck do you know my shower routine so well?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice as he rinses that off as well.

“Hmm, well… I think I just know you.” You feel your hair being moved out of the way and then his lips trail their way from your shoulder to your jaw and you feel his lips turn up into a smile. “Our remedy was successful, sweetheart: your temperature’s even.” He murmurs quietly, the relief clear in his voice.

He leaves you to finish up while he goes to fetch your towel and some pjs for you. Once he returns, he helps you out of the tub, dry off, and get dressed. You notice that your pjs consist of your favorite t-shirt of his and some sleep shorts. As you both make your way back to the living room - this time with you being able to walk fairly unassisted - your phone rings.

“I’ll get that, darlin’.” He says, walking ahead of you. He grabs the cell and takes the call in the kitchen as you go sit down on the couch. You grab the TV remote and turn it on, quickly looking up your favorite comfort movie. You usually are in the habit of watching it at least once a week, but with how busy things have been lately, it had been a while. You still feel sick, but the pain in your head is all but gone and you feel overall semi-normal. Anyway, if you were going to continue to be ill, you were gonna do it with your favorite movie. Ezra rejoins you just as the opening credits roll and you see he’s now put his jacket on and exchanged his slippers for his shoes.

“Your boss called; apparently one of your co-workers called in and said they’d gone to the doctor for a stomach bug, and two other people called in with it. I just notified them of your condition as well.” He says, handing you your phone and you see his in his hand along with his wallet and keys. 

“That explains it then. What did they say?” You ask.

“They hope you feel better soon and that you should let them know if things worsen immediately. I assured them we would.” He explains. “I also called Dr. Maslow to see what she recommends for this.” Dr. Maslow was your trusted doctor. She’d known and treated you and Ezra for a few years now.  “She gave me a list so I’m gonna head out to the pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions she sent their way.”

“Ok, love.” You respond.

“How are you feelin’?” He asks.

“Insanely better, thank you. Can you get me some water though before you go?”

“Do you want some food too? I was finishin’ it up when you called me over.”

“No, I’m feeling a little nauseous. Just the water.” He nods and goes, bringing you back a glass of water and a glass of orange juice.

“Do you want me to bring you anything else? Anythin’ you need or want while I’m out?”

“Mm-mmm, thank you, Ez.” You say. 

“Of course sweetheart, I’ll be back soon. Call me if anything. I love you.”

“Love you.” You say, sending a kiss his way. He smiles and leaves you to continue watching your film.

You wake up with a small fever again, the TV has turned off to save energy and the two glasses Ezra brought you are empty. The pain in your head is dull. No shivering this time and no sweating. You’re just about to grab your phone from in front of you when you hear the lock turn on the front door and Ezra walks in moments later, grocery bags in his hands.

“I’m back, sweetheart. I don’t know why I didn’t think about this sooner. While I was waitin’ for the pharmacy, I called my old college roommate, Jian. I remember he got a very similar bug after eatin’ some food from the mess hall. His mom sent him a family recipe for a soup that would help get his energy back up. Just got everything I need.” He says all this while setting the grocery bags down, and you see the familiar label of the Asian market nearby that you two sometimes shop at whenever Ezra does one of his many food experimentations. He quickly begins pulling out ingredients, including an array of herbs. 

“What’s the soup?” You ask. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head a bit as he takes off his jacket and shoes, exchanging the latter for his slippers. 

“Sorry, dearest, I was sworn to secrecy by Jian’s Nai Nai. She’d kill me if I let it slip.” He says playfully and you smile at that. Then, he walks over and begins organizing everything on the kitchen counter before going to the sink to wash his hands.

“Alright then, keep your secrets.” You say. “But wait, you’ve already made dinner, Ez. I don’t want you to have to cook twice just for me.” 

“Don’t worry, Jian says it takes no time at all. It’ll be ready in a tic.” He assures. You turn the TV back on and mindlessly watch some live-action comedy while Ezra cooks, the various ingredients creating a mouthwatering aroma that fills the entire house. 

20 minutes later, Ezra brings you a bowl of soup and a bowl of the dinner he made earlier for himself. Plus two glasses of water. You thank him as he sets your tray on your lap and then goes to sit on the loveseat on the other side of the room. Despite the discomfort in your stomach, you eat. It’s exquisite. Hot, a little spicy, and the perfect balance between light and filling. And yet, you’re only able to finish less than half of it. Ezra takes the dishes, explaining that he’s putting away the leftovers so you can finish it later on. When he walks back over, you see the concern return to his eyes.

“Your fever’s rising again, isn’t it?” He asks. You nod quietly. He goes into the kitchen and returns with a couple of dish rags, a bowl of water with a couple of ice cubes in it, your meds, and another glass of water. He tells you to lie back and moves to sit directly beside you on the ottoman of the couch.

“Ezra, you can’t be this close, you’ll get sick too.” You say but he ignores your feeble protest, grabbing the rags and soaking them in the ice water, before wringing them out.

“In sickness and in health, darlin’.” He whispers, placing one rag under the back of your neck while he places the other rag against your forehead as gently as he can.

“We’re not married, Ez.” You say with a half-smile, your mood light and playful.

“But we will be.” He immediately responds, causing a shock of sincerity to sober up that playfulness. He doesn't say it with a hopeful “maybe,” no. He says it with a certainty that makes your heart skip. The intensity in his eyes causes yours to drop to the bowl in front of you. You break first, chuckling softly.

“Don’t be so sure, loverboy, maybe I’ll lose my mind with these crazy fevers and won’t remember you.” You tease gently, raising your eyes to his again. He smiles, the certainty still in his voice as he moves off of the ottoman to lean over you, just enough for the golden freckles in his eyes to make you dizzy. 

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again.” You both smile at that and he kisses you first, a deep kiss that makes you lose your breath quicker than the headaches. When you pull away, you hum a bit, opening your eyes at the same time he opens his.

“You always get your way, don’t you?” You ask. He chuckles under his breath and looks away, sitting back down and shaking his head as he grabs your right hand with his left, interlocking your fingers.

“Not always, sweetheart. If I had my way: you’d be the epitome of health and we would be very naked and very busy with other things.” He meets your gaze, his eyes darkening just a tad and you try not to smile at that. You know you fail when he winks at you. “But,” he leans back, spreading his legs open a little. “I am not putting your health at risk so I will remain the epitome of professionalism.” He says, straightening his back and holding his head high.

“Aw why??” You ask, pouting your lower lip at him just a little as you squeeze his hand. “The physical exertion might help me sweat this all out?” You tease. He grins, wolfish, and kisses you again. 

“Later, dearest.” He hands you your meds and you sit up to drink them.

With Ezra’s around-the-clock care, the meds, and Nai Nai’s magical soup, you’re on your feet and bushy-tailed by day 3. You’re prepping breakfast for you two - Ezra’s famous blueberry pancake recipe - when Ezra comes to the living room. You greet him good morning and sit beside him on the couch. You hug him and feel him incredibly warm, but chalk that up to him being under the covers all night. It isn’t until you give him a very passionate kiss, intent on fulfilling his fantasy from three days ago that you see the clamminess of his skin and the too-red of his cheeks. His eyes are apologetic and his smile is rueful but you just playfully roll your eyes and move off of him, kissing his cheek.

“Let me get the thermometer.”

****** OK SO, first things first let me say this: I didn't specify what soup was used because I know goose egg ( 0 ) about Chinese medicine and didn't want to be incorrect/spread misinformation about another culture's traditions/home-remedial practices. Second, I used "Nai Nai" to refer to Jian's grandmother because Google said it's a common term, but we know how Google is so please correct me if I am wrong!

I know that I said “hiatus” and I totally meant it. I figured the whole RvW-getting-overturned-thing would knock me down so bad that I would not want to write. And that lasted for about a day or so and theeeen I came down with a stomach bug (yaaaay), which I thought “of course” and just figured that would solidify things. THEN, I got a super bad fever (as described here cuz ofc) and had a couple of fever dreams, one of them being this! So, before I knew it this baby was basically writing itself and well, here we are.

Additionally, I put pause on everything else, and I know I left Char hanging on her request so hopefully this sorta makes up for it?? Anyway that’s it, lmk if you enjoyed. As always, thanks a million for reading and I’ll see you all in the next one.

Tag List: @pedrocentric @luz-introvertida @castleamc

@klara-luise18 @supernaturalgirl89 @december-gal1 @castleamcc @hillarymurray4 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @sherala007 @littlemisspascal @practicalghost @donnaa @scorpio-marionette @kayleezra @mandynik23 @maxpbxtch97 @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess (hope it’s ok that I’m tagging you!)

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#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #pedro pascal x gender neutral reader #pedro pascal x you #ezra x gender neutral reader #ezra x you #fanfiction #alternate universe #crossposted on ao3 #writer darling

[favoniuscodex]

upcoming kaeya fic — love potion fic (like diluc’s) except it’s about diona getting tired of kaeya crying to the cats about his crush whenever he gets drunk at cat’s tail, so she makes him a love potion so he confesses and gets it over with

#axia screams into the void #is this dumb... i think it’s cute #FUCK I GOTTA RESPOND TO MY INBOX oops

[otterlydeerlightful]

War AU and Poorly Timed Confession with Glannithro

SO....somehow this has been sitting in my inbox forever abandoned and forgotten. OOPS!!

.....

Glanni had been taken prisoner. The usually slippery eel hadmade the smallest mistake, and now he was in chains. It made Ithro’s stomachtwist to see the fae in such a state, but there was nothing he could do tochange it. What was worse, he was one of the two soldiers assigned to escorttheir captured enemy to their waiting captain. He did his best not to lookat the captured fae beside him, though he could feel Glanni’s eyes onhim. It just made his chest tighten even more. The elf did his best to keep hisexpression neutral.

Ithro hadn’t seen Glanni in a long time, not since thestupid war had been little more than an ongoing squabble between their people.Despite their differences, they had become close. Very close, though Ithrohad never dared to reveal his true feelings to his friend. It seemed thatopposite did, indeed, attract. The elf had worried about Glanni since theirinvoluntary separation and, despite the nature of the stories he heard abouthis fae, Ithro was always glad to hear some word of him. It meant that Glanniwas still alive. Now, though, the soldier worried about the crafty conman morethan ever before…and he was the one delivering Glanni to his doom.

He didn’t have a choice, he told himself, though even hisinner voice was weak with remorse as he did. What other choice did he have?Glanni had been brought to their camp after his latest scheme against the elvenarmy had gone sideways and it was only pure luck that it happened to be thesame unit to which Ithro had been assigned. He had hoped his reunion withGlanni would be under more joyous circumstances. He had been wrong.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” the fae remarked as he glancedaround their surroundings. “Nice location…atmosphere’s a bit shit, though. Ihope there’s a continental breakfast, at least.”

Ithro wanted him to shut up. He knew Glanni well enough toknow that the cheeky bravado was a cover for his fear, but he worried hissmirks and snark might make the captured man’s situation even worse. Unable toproperly communicate this, Ithro shot the fae a sideways warning glare. Thecorner of Glanni’s mouth raised for the barest moment in response, but thatonly made his anxiety worse.

“Ah, Glaepur,” the elven captain sneered as his menapproached with their captive. “And what trouble were you trying to cause formy troops this time? Was it worth the price?”

Ithro tightened his jaw when Glanni dared to respond.

“Trouble? I don’t cause trouble, per say. I just knowa good opportunity when I see one. And who’s to say that being strung betweentwo handsome muscled hunks wasn’t my plan in the first place?” the fae asked,winking in Ithro’s direction.

He did his best to remain unresponsive, though he was sure afrown was at least threatening to pull at his lips.

Their captain was unamused. He nodded toward the tent behindhim. “Tie him to the post inside. I’ll be with him in a moment.”

“Bring me some onion rings and a martini when you come back!The service here is awful!”

Ithro subtly jabbed at the fae’s side as he and his partnerescorted their prisoner inside. Glanni pouted at him silently and allowed thetwo elves to lead and sit him down before a thick wooden pole in the center ofthe tent. Ithro and Glanni met eyes, both men offering sympathy to theircounterpart and his situation. The presence of others prevented them fromspeaking, but Ithro understood Glanni’s silent words well enough. He and hispartner stood, their prisoner secured, and left the tent.

“Thank you,” the captain said with a dark smile. “Stay here.This shouldn’t take long.”

Their superior disappeared into the tent now behind them.Ithro bit the inside of his cheek as the soft sounds and muffled voices driftedoutside. He remained quiet, as did his partner. The elf stared into the treesand watched the other soldiers mill out or attend to their duties. Someoccasionally glanced his way, no doubt curious about the rumors that theinfamous Glanni Glaepur had been captured.

Ithro had known things wouldn’t end well, but that didn’tkeep his throat from tightening at hearing muffled cries of pain escaping thetent. He clenched his fists at his sides while his molars ground together atthe sounds of the fae he so deeply cared for being…hurt. Blatantly hurt. Herefused to think of it as torture…he couldn’t. Ithro shut his eyes, butthat only helped his ears focus all the more on the slaps and soft cries comingfrom inside the captain’s tent. Glanni was the enemy. Fae were the enemy.Neither of them could help their positions in this stupid war. They each hadobligations. They both…they both…

He was shaking now. Ithro opened his eyes. No, he…hecouldn’t do this. He couldn’t stand by and allow Glanni to be hurt no matterwho was in that tent. Ithro may as well be the one landing each blow on thefae’s beautifully pale skin; after all, he was the one who had deliveredGlanni to the slaughter. Ithro took a deep breath and turned just in time tosee their captain emerge.

“I didn’t expect him to talk,” the elf sighed, as if boredby the entire situation. “Watch him. I’ll be back in a moment. I just needto…get some of my toys.”

The captain offered a sickening smile before walking off.Ithro choked down the pain in his stomach and nodded. He quickly turned to hispartner, muttering a brief “I’ll guard him, you watch the entrance,” andhurrying inside.

Glanni was just where Ithro had left him, head now hung andhair mussed. He grit his teeth in guilt seeing the few shallow lacerations andalready-forming bruises scattered about the fae’s skin. Hearing his chokinggulp of shock, Glanni raised his head. In spite of the man’s bleeding lip, hesmiled at seeing Ithro standing there.

“Hey.”

Ithro trembled, trying to smile for his old friend in spiteof their terrible situation. “H-hey.”

“You come here often?” Glanni croaked, his voice soundingfar scratchier than it had earlier. Ithro didn’t want to know why that was.“’Cause…I gotta say, you gotta raise your standards. I know you like your treesand shit, but this place is the pits.”

In spite of everything, in spite of his current situation andbleak future…Glanni was still Glanni. Rarely had the fae ever needed hisprotection, but that did not stop Ithro’s instinct to do so…and he had betrayedthem both by leading his dearest friend here. He didn’t know what to say. What couldhe say? Ithro swallowed, his heart twisting tightly in his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” the elf said quietly.

He wasn’t sure when he had approached, but Ithro foundhimself kneeling before his prisoner and carefully wiping away the bloodcongealing on Glanni’s chin.

“I’m sorry,” Ithro whispered quietly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Always the liar,” he chuckled lightly. He had to laugh tokeep from crumbling. “Haven’t lost your touch.”

“Oh, shut up, Chisel Chest.”

Ithro was still talking. “I should have done something…Icould have…fought them off when they brought you in. I…”

“Would have had that shiny blade of yours sticking in yourgut right now if you had,” Glanni pointed out calmly. “We al have things to dothat…we’d rather not.” The fae smiled, the motion causing his cracked lip tobleed anew. “I’m just glad you’re alive, you hero-complexed dumbass.”

Ithro swallowed. The pair sat quietly together for a fewmoments. Not knowing what to do with his hands, the elf continued to try andclean Glanni’s wounds the best he could. He had moved on to combing back thefae’s wild hair when his old friend spoke again.

“Ithro…you need to stop,” Glanni sighed, eyes not quitemeeting his gaze. “Your spangled shithead will be back any second and you don’twant him finding you fondling the enemy.”

“I…I can’t…” He took in a quivering breath. “I can’t leaveyou like this, Glanni.”

“You can and you will, you dumb shit.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Glanni.”

“Look, I got myself into the mess. I always getmyself into this kind of shit. Don’t jump in after me. You still have a chance,okay? Just because I fucked up doesn’t mean one of us can’t still go home.You’ve stuck your neck out for my stupid ass more than you ever should’ve. Letme…handle this one myself.”

“But they’ll—”

“Everyone takes a dirt nap at some point, Ithro. Who caresif I take mine sooner rather than later?”

How could he say that? Did Glanni not realize how much Ithrocared about him? No, he realized, Glanni wouldn’t. They had stolen glances,shared so much, but neither of them had ever said anything. The fae was willinglystaring down death and telling Ithro to leave him. There was nothing he coulddo to save the man he cared for so deeply, and Glanni had made it clear that hewouldn’t accept any offered help anyway. …But, Ithro decided, he could at leastlet the fae know he would be missed, that his existence was worth something tosomeone. He would never have another chance to do so.

“..I..” The elf swallowed. “I do, Glanni. I care.”Ithro hated the way his fae’s brow knit together in, albeit mild, disbelief. “Ihave always cared…I…I love you.”

The silence in the tent was deafening as the two men staredat each other. Ithro sighed and let his eyes drift down to the dirt floorbelow.

“Well shit,” Glanni mumbled, his voice uncharacteristicallysomber. “It’s…too bad you didn’t say that earlier…”

“Indeed.”

Ithro spun around to face the captain watching them from theentrance of the tent. The man wore a dark scowl as he took in the sight of hissoldier kneeling so closely to his prisoner. Ithro went rigid and his mindhalted with the realization of the predicament they were suddenly in. He heardGlanni emit a low growl beside him. The elven captain drew the sword from hisbelt, shaking his head. Behind him, Ithro could see the shocked faces of a pairof his comrades.

“I had heard rumor of lesser soldiers fraternizingwith the enemy,” his commanding officer snarled, “But I never thoughtsomeone like you would fall so low, Ithrotta. And for someone like Glaepur…doesyou disgrace know no bounds?”

Eyes trained on the captain’s drawn blade, Ithro soon foundhimself firmly placed between the man and the prisoner.  This was not good. They were discovered,cornered, and both of them facing severe punishment and, undoubtedly, aneventual death. Ithro had wanted to somehow protect Glanni, and had insteadmade things so much worse. He carefully drew his own weapon and focused as muchof his will as he dared on steadying his breathing. There was only one way outnow and, though all odds were against the possibility for victory, he needed toat try to get them out of it.

Ithro never got the chance. Much to his surprise, a cool hand’slong fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. He looked at the fae,dumbfounded to see him untied.

“Come on, you idiot!”

Glanni yanked on his wrist, pulling Ithro back as thecaptain charged. The small tent opening at least acted as a bottleneck for the soldiersbehind him, but it wouldn’t save them for long. The fae snatched Ithro’s sparedagger from his boot and, after an understanding glance and a nod to oneanother, the pair surged forward. Rather than aiming to kill, both men had clearlydecided to instead focus on creating a hole through which to escape.

When the captain was distracted with Ithro, their blades lockedtogether, Glanni delivered a nice kick to the elf’s chest to catch himoff-guard. With Ithro’s now former superior distracted on his knees, the pairwere easily able to slip through the few confused soldiers still outside thetent. Ithro followed the fae’s lead and the pair made their retreat.

They didn’t speak a word as they raced to the nearest horsesand took off from the camp. It seemed they didn’t need to. After some time, theechoes of their pursuers barely reaching their ears, Ithro turned to Glanni andgestured for the fae to move up. He did so and, a moment later, the elf hadstood and leapt to the second steed. The horses parted and some time later,they dismounted and sent their remaining horse on its way before taking offtoward a rocky outcrop to cover any potential tracks as they went. Any sounds fromthe elven soldiers had long since faded, but neither dared stop until they hadput more distance between them and the encampment.

It felt like ages until they spoke. Ithro’s head was swimming,replaying the events of the past hours again and again as they made their way throughthe forest. He had deserted the army. He was a fugitive…worse, he was anoutright traitor to his entire race. And yet… He looked up at the back ofGlanni’s head. The fae seemed at home as they climbed, his long spidery legseasily finding the safest footholds along their path. Ithro smiled. Glanni wassafe. That’s what mattered.

“You know you think really loudly, right?” Glanni asked overhis shoulder.

Ithro blinked. “Huh?”

“I can feel your stupid eyes burning a hole in the back ofmy head. I can practically hear those gears in your head turning.”

Ithro couldn’t help but roll his eyes. At least the silencewas broken now.

“Do you know where we’re going?” the elf asked.

“Yeah. Away.”

“N-no, I mean—”

“I know what you meant, Ithro.” The fae finallystopped and turned to look at him. “What the hell were you thinking? Yourstupid mug is going to be on wanted posters all over the damn continent! I hopeit was fucking worth it, because you just lost everything for nothing,you dumbass!”

Ithro blinked. It took him a second to register the other’swords and formulate a response. “You are not nothing!”

“I am!”

“You are not!”

Glanni glared at him angrily. Ithro didn’t like the look ofthe swelling around the fae’s right eye.

“Glanni…I meant what I said. I do love you. I don’tregret what I said, and I don’t regret what I did. Y-you mean…everything to me.”

The two men stood there for a minute. A magpie called loudlyfrom somewhere nearby. Glanni sighed and looked off into the trees.

“Are you okay?” Ithro asked. “From what…the captain did?Your eye looks—”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” the fae mumbled. Glanni sighed. “Youweren’t supposed to like me, you know. But hell, since when do we ever listento each other, right?”

Ithro dared to smile.

“Come on…we should be able to reach the group by latetomorrow. We can get you set up somewhere.”

Ithro frowned. “But…I’m an elf.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.” Glanni gave an exacerbated sigh and grabbedIthro’s hand. “Don’t worry, Ithro,” he said in a softer tone. “You’ll be safe.”

He smiled, trusting his old friend. Ithro and Glanni startedtoward the mountains, hands still tightly clasped.