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Chapter Text

1. The time she made them take a nap. 

When they'd been summoned to the healer's tent, they'd thought something was wrong. It wasn't inaccurate to say that there were constantly emergencies that needed to be dealt with, and most of them were handled by Gawain. For Lancelot to be summoned too, even if people were finally not hissing insults at him every time they walked past, it had to be a bad one.

But instead, it was just a tiny redhead, standing there with her hands on her hips. Both men had fought battles before, gone through torture and worse, and yet, it was a vaguely terrifying thing to be faced with that sight, glancing at each other to see if they knew what they'd done wrong.

It didn't take long for Pym to explain. "When was the last time you slept?"

Immediately, Gawain rolled his eyes. "Pym -"

"Oh no, don't Pym me. Lancelot, when was the last time he took a break?"

The Ash man startled slightly, wondering how she knew he would know the answer to that. He tried to stare her down, but she'd become immune to it and he was the one to break. "He had fallen asleep two nights ago, but it was cut short. He didn't return to the tent last night."

"Traitor." For once, the muttered insult from Gawain didn't make Lancelot want to squirm with guilt.

"If you want revenge, you stupid lump of a knight, then tell me when Lancelot last slept."

The redhead was too smug, Gawain contemplated lifting her over his shoulder and taking her to the river to throw her in, just like old times. But he did worry about the former monk, he knew that Lancelot would work himself into the ground out of some sort of punishment. So after staring Pym down, which was only a little more successful than Lancelot's attempt, he gave an answer, ignoring Lancelot's soft sigh. "He pretends to sleep most nights, but I doubt he actually gets much."

If anything, Pym looked even more smug, and definitely more calculating. Gawain regretted saying anything. But thankfully, for once, the small healer didn't make a joke that made him want to throttle her, even if Lancelot always seemed to be oblivious to what she was implying. "That's what I thought. Well… guess what that means."

---

When he ended back up in his tent, Gawain wondered if maybe he should have throttled her after all.

Somehow, he'd agreed to taking the afternoon off, seemingly to make Lancelot take a break, but considering the only reason Lancelot was taking a break was to make Gawain take a break, he knew that they'd been outmatched. They could lead men in battles and a single girl had beaten both of them in a battle of wits. It was embarrassing, really.

"You should get some sleep."

Gawain turned to look at the man who'd spoken, raising an eyebrow. "And you're fine, you don't need to sleep at all?" It always did something to Gawain when he watched Lancelot's cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. He knew exactly what that something was, but he didn't let himself investigate the feeling too closely. Lancelot had enough to deal with without adding Gawain's complicated feelings into the mix.

"I cannot sleep."

The soft admission made him sigh, understanding perfectly. It felt wrong to rest when there were things that needed to be done. "Pym said we had to rest, right?" Gawain would have ignored her if it was just about himself, but the other man did need a break too. "To take a break. She didn't say how we needed to do that."

The cautious look in Lancelot's eyes made Gawain smile wider. He doubted Lancelot had ever bent rules, so maybe this would be good for him in more ways than one. "Meet me by the western gate, don't let Pym see you." Gawain waited for Lancelot's hesitant nod before slipping out of the tent.

When he got there, Lancelot was already waiting, looking like he was about to get into trouble, so Gawain clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pretended not to notice the way he flinched. Not for the first time, Gawain wished he could have killed more Red Paladins. "Come on, before we get caught."

Since Lancelot still looked worried, Gawain bit back his sigh before speaking. "She won't be upset, we're taking a break. I promise." He'd learned the quickest way to convince Lancelot was those two words, aware how carefully he'd have to wield the power of the trust his former enemy had placed in him.

With a basket swinging from his arm, he half expected Lancelot to ask, but they'd patrolled half of the ground surrounding the Fey camp - at a leisurely pace, thank you very much, Pym, it was rather peaceful to do it without a sense of urgency - before Gawain realised that Lancelot wasn't going to ask. "Here. We're following Pym's rule now, taking a break." He set the basket down, and tried not to laugh at Lancelot's confused expression.

"I thought we didn't want to sleep?" The Ash Fey watched as Gawain laid a blanket on the ground, one that had been tucked into the basket. He could smell fruit in there, feeling more and more confused as Gawain sat on the blanket.

"Just sit, you'll make my neck ache standing up like that."

Immediately, Lancelot took a seat on the corner of the blanket, glancing over at Gawain to see if he'd done the right thing. The smile, one that always made his stomach flip and made him feel guilty for his sin, told him that he had done exactly what was expected of him. Deftly catching the apple that Gawain tossed at him, his long fingers curled around it. "What are we doing?"

"Taking a break. I'm sure Pym would describe a picnic as a break." She'd probably be smirking at Gawain for deciding that something very date like was the way to get Lancelot to relax. He was definitely going to throttle her if even imaginary Pym wouldn't leave him alone.

"Why?"

Gawain was used to his heart breaking because of Lancelot. Once because of what the Monk had done, but now because of what had been done to the Fey. He looked so puzzled at the idea of a picnic. "Because we're also taking a shift on watch." Not really necessary, but it was enough to keep Gawain from feeling too guilty. "You'll tell me if you scent any Man-bloods, and at the same time, we're sitting, having a picnic. Pym can't yell at us for that." It was a weak logic, and for a moment, Gawain thought Lancelot saw straight through it. But eventually, Lancelot nodded, and much to Gawain's glee, he even took a bite of the apple without asking if he was allowed to.

---

Pym had her spies in camp. She knew they'd left the camp, and she'd huffed and grumbled. And she knew when they didn't come back as night fell, and convinced a few people to go searching for them. Even if they were both very capable men, they were exhausted, something could have happened.

And she definitely knew that when someone found them, they'd been asleep on a blanket, cuddling each other.

She was going to tease Gawain so much about this. Hopefully it wouldn't end with him throwing her in the river like old times, but it really would be worth it.

Chapter Text

"Gawain, I love you, but if you glare at my brother again, I'm throwing this poultice at your head." Pym didn't look up from where she was working hard, but she could feel the twin looks of shock she'd gotten from both men. "Oh stop that, you both should know by now that unlike two very pretty men in this room, I don't repress my feelings." The silence from both of them only got thicker and she rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about never getting any work done with that tension in the room.

Standing up, she still wasn't tall enough to really be a threat to even just one of them, but Lancelot still considered being selfish for the first time and hiding behind Gawain. 

But she'd called him her brother, and it'd felt very different from the way Gawain sometimes used the term to encompass all Fey. So he didn't move, no matter the glare she was giving them both. 

"Pym, I'm not angry with him, but if he's going to keep jumping in front of everyone in every single fight, he's going to get himself killed." He emphasised his point by leaning over to prod near where Lancelot had gotten hurt, eliciting a groan from the Ash man. 

The redhead considered his words for a second before nodding. "You're right, I'll throw the poultice at him. Now, Lancelot, you sit your skinny arse down. Gawain, if you're going to fuss over Lance, at least make yourself useful." 

Pym knew very well that the look Gawain was shooting her meant that he was thinking about throwing her in the river, like he threatened on a weekly basis. But since Lancelot needed her help, she knew she was safe right now. The former monk had once only been able to come to her for help and even though the other healers would help now, he still always came to her. She didn't mind. 

"Lancelot, Gawain does have a point. You're the best fighter here - oh don't huff at me Gawain, we all know you lost when you fought him - so why am I always fixing you up?" 

The stare that both of them gave him made Lancelot wish he could escape. Staring at the ground was the best he could do. "I…." 

"Do you think it's better if you get hurt and not someone else?" Gawain had wondered for a while, and the nod confirmed it. 

"That is -"

Pym's objections were cut short by Gawain's words. "It's not better. We need you in one piece, brother. Like Pym said, you're our best fighter." The soft 'ha' from the Fey girl also went ignored as Lancelot finally looked up but still didn't talk. "I mean it. We need you in one piece." 

"They have you." Lancelot countered softly, both men ignoring both the healer as she worked and the calculating look on her face. 

They'd regret that another day. 

--- 

It never took Lancelot long to heal. Or rather, it never took long for him to heal enough that he got restless despite Pym's orders to take it easy. 

"Would you stop pacing? You're exhausting me." Pym complained, but Lancelot had learned which were actual orders and when he could just ignore her. 

Of course, being ignored meant that Pym threw something at him, Lancelot catching it with ease. "There must be something I can do."

The mutter from the redhead sounded a lot like she was accusing him of working too hard, to which his response was an amused smirk. She was just as bad, only most people didn't notice it because she stayed in camp. 

"Don't look at me like that. You're not doing anything until I know you're not going to hurt yourself again." 

"I'm not." 

"You say that literally every time. You do remember what Gawain told you? You can't keep doing this." If Lancelot wasn't so bored, he might have noticed Pym was wearing a calculating look again and wondered what she was planning. "Alright, if you're really sure you are fine, why not prove it? If you are fine, there's nothing wrong with training a few people, right? I know someone who really wants to see if you're as good as everyone says." 

It didn't take long for her plan to fall perfectly into place, and she got the perfect view. 

Well, it did mean losing the very lovely view of watching the Red Spear fight, but since this wasn't about her being a disaster who found everyone beautiful, especially the woman who also terrified her, she figured it was satisfying enough to watch Gawain march up. 

His sword blocking a blow that Lancelot would easily have stopped himself, the Green Knight looked thoroughly unimpressed. "What is going on here?"

Pym piped up helpfully. Stage two of her plan was going into action. "I thought it'd be helpful if Lancelot got some exercise, make sure his wounds were healed. This seemed like a good way to test his range of motion." 

"And what if he got hurt?" 

Just as Pym predicted, Lancelot made a noise that she was convinced sounded like an outraged cat. "I will not get hurt."

"You might, monk." Pym smiled brightly at the woman, who had just inadvertently helped her plans. Or okay, maybe she did it on purpose, that looked like a calculating look, and wow, she was even prettier when - Pym dragged herself back to reality just in time to hear the agreement that they'd come to without the need of any more interference from her. 

"I'll spar with Lancelot. I wanted a rematch anyway." 

Now that the raider queen had lost interest, she left, but she did look at Pym with what was almost a smile first, and her plan was working, so today was totally a success. 

The two former enemies faced each other, but this time, when they fought, it was with faint traces of smiles. 

"You're holding back." Lancelot noted almost lazily as he spun out of the way of Gawain's blow. 

"So are you, Ash man." Gawain retorted, well aware of Lancelot's speed and ability, but Lancelot almost seemed to be dancing. 

The entire time, Pym was watching, but they'd forgotten about her, lost in each other, in the game they were playing. 

As much as Lancelot hated what he'd done to Gawain, he'd wanted the chance to fight him again. It'd been… well, it'd been fun to start with, and now that there weren't any high stakes, he hoped it would be fun again. But only if Gawain stopped holding back. 

To that end, Lancelot took two steps back and executed a perfect spin to show that he was fine, he wasn't in any pain at all. He liked to think that the look on the knight's face was admiration, but he knew those thoughts were dangerous. They'd lead to reading too much into Gawain's expressions, and he had so many different ones. 

"You're just showing off now." Gawain's accusation was rewarded with a smile.

"Stop holding back, knight." 

Nodding once, Gawain redoubled his efforts, the swords striking each other in a perfect dance until Lancelot disarmed Gawain, ending up behind him with the flat of his blade pressed to Gawain's throat and his chest against his back. 

Both of them were panting slightly, Lancelot smirking at the Fey knight when he turned his head enough to see his face. "Would you like to surrender to me now?" The words were almost a satisfied purr, and he could almost swear Gawain's scent became charged with something more, something that Lancelot hadn't expected from the man. 

This was dangerous territory, but he didn't let him go. 

"It looks like you've got me." Gawain's voice was low, matching Lancelot's tone.

"And what should I do with you now?" Since Gawain hadn't actually said he'd lost, Lancelot suspected a trick, and he really didn't want to lose. He was competitive. 

Only problem was, that scent from Gawain just got stronger, and Lancelot was distracted enough to loosen his grip on Gawain. 

Gawain didn't miss a beat, twisting around to shove Lancelot back, but he didn't hesitate before tackling him to the ground. It was a move he often used, just barging into someone like his shoulders were a battering ram, but this time, he wanted to get a specific result, and he did. 

Lancelot hadn't expected Gawain to pin him down, much too distracted by the thought that perhaps he wasn't alone in his sin, and now that he was looking up at the man, it was difficult to want to win the fight now. 

"It looks like you've got me now." Lancelot murmured, his eyes flicking to Gawain's lips. 

"You can get him, Lancelot!" The shout jarred both men back into reality, but they weren't untangling themselves fast enough for Squirrel's liking. "Here!" The boy leaned down to pick up one of the discarded swords, but it was heavy, and he was still young, and he slipped. "Ouch!" 

That made both men move faster, but Pym was faster, smacking the back of Squirrel's head even as she grabbed his hand. "You… Ugh. Come on, I'll patch you up." The redhead half dragged him away, shooting a glare behind her at the two men standing there with mirrored expressions of frustration as they heard her accuse Squirrel of ruining everything. 

Gawain was thinking he might just throw himself in the river instead of Pym.

Chapter Text

Gawain had discovered that Lancelot was often cold, and as someone whose body ran warm, he'd offered the same opportunity he offered all his friends to use him as a personal heater.

He just hadn't expected Lancelot to lie on top of him after coming into the tent they still shared even if Lancelot was trusted to be alone now. 

Not that Gawain was complaining, having Lancelot this close was always pleasant, and it meant that Lancelot was getting more comfortable with him. That was important, his arms wrapping around the Ash Fey to help warm him faster. 

Then Lancelot had to go and nuzzle him, and Gawain felt his body get even warmer. 

He did his best to ignore it, but Lancelot shifted slightly, and Gawain's body was starting to betray him. 

How to get Lancelot to move without embarrassing him or making him uncomfortable? Gawain didn't want him to think it was a problem to claim his warmth, it was simply not the position he'd expected to be in, at least not while fully dressed and nope, he could not follow that train of thought, it would be a terrible mistake. 

"Lancelot?" The man in question hummed quietly and shifted again, Gawain nearly groaning at the feeling. "Just... You're -" 

Seeming to realise the problem, Lancelot froze in place but before Gawain could reassure him that it was fine, he'd pushed himself off Gawain and practically run out of their tent. 

With a loud groan, Gawain's head fell back onto the bed. That was going to be difficult to fix. 

---

Pym yelped as Lancelot dropped into the seat next to her. "Nothing!" She exclaimed, before realising he hadn't asked what she was doing. 

With a guilty glance at the woman she'd been watching across the campfire, Pym turned to face her friend properly. She'd gotten used to him coming to her if he had a question about Fey culture, not that it happened as much these days. She'd assumed he was taking his questions to Gawain mostly. 

"What is it?" When he didn't answer, she nudged him. "Hey, come on. You know I won't laugh. I promised, didn't I?"

The way Lancelot seemed to crumpled worried her even more. 

As much as she wanted to push, she bit her tongue until he finally spoke. 

"I... I think I did something wrong."

Pym was pretty sure he was blushing, but he also looked miserable, so she didn't tease him about it. "I'm sure we can fix it." 

"No. I am broken. And now I... I think I have to find another tent to sleep in. I cannot stay with Gawain." 

Lancelot felt sick with guilt, afraid Pym would see through his words and be disgusted with him, but what he didn't expect was for the redhead to stand up, grab his hand and start pulling him up. He let her lead him away from the fire, aware she couldn't actually push anyone around, not that it ever stopped her from trying. 

"Lancelot, you're not broken. That's the most important thing. But if you and Gawain had a fight, that doesn't mean you can't stay there. Tell me what happened." 

His eyes travelled down, staring at the ground as he often did when expecting to be punished. Less and less, he did that these days, but this was something he was sure was wrong. He was wrong. 

"I laid on top of him to get warm. And then my thoughts were sinful and -" 

Pym cut into his whisper, not letting him blame himself any longer for this. "You like him. I know. Didn't you know - obviously not. Okay. Lancelot, there's nothing wrong with that. If two people like each other, that's all that matters. It doesn't matter if they're man and woman, man and man. Would you hate me if I went and kissed the Red Spear right now?" 

Lancelot considered her words carefully, since he trusted her honesty, and if she said it was alright, it had to be true. It'd take longer to stop feeling broken, but he didn't think he could ever hate her, which meant he had yet another thing to try forgive himself for. 

"But he seemed... uncomfortable with me." Obviously Gawain didn't return the feelings, despite how his body had responded. Lancelot wasn't surprised, Gawain was not only beautiful and brave, but loyal, kind, smart, funny. Why would he ever be interested in Lancelot? "It must be wrong to make him uncomfortable." 

Lancelot knew not to trust the shrewd look in Pym's eyes, but he was desperate, so he didn't lie when she asked one more question. 

"What exactly happened?" 

--- 

Several nights later, it was the coldest night of the winter, and Lancelot was shivering despite the blanket on top of him. When he felt Gawain lay his own blanket on top of him, he opened his mouth to protest, but Gawain just shushed him. 

"Move over." In response to the whisper, Lancelot shifted over, and Gawain slipped into the bed behind him. 

It wasn't easy to relax at first as Gawain wrapped an arm around his waist, but eventually, he drifted into sleep, finally warm. 

When he woke, Gawain pressed closer into the man in front of him, his nose brushing over the nape of Lancelot's neck. 

Still half asleep, he thought it had to be a dream to have Lancelot in his arms. A very pleasant dream. 

"Morning."

Lancelot's voice was soft, and in response, Gawain's arm tightened around him. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up, find his arms empty. Not when he'd wanted to get this man into his arms for months, to share a bed with him. It was definitely a pleasant way to wake, slowly and warmly, and his body was waking faster than his mind. 

"Did you bring a dagger to bed, or are you just happy to see me?" 

Gawain had never expected to hear Lancelot say something like that, even in his dreams, and it jarred him awake. 

This wasn't a dream, he'd held Lancelot all night, and when he'd woken with a rather inconvenient reaction, Lancelot hadn't run. 

He'd used a line that didn't sound like him at all. 

"Pym." Gawain muttered insults under his breath as he rolled out of bed, unable to look at Lancelot. He doubted Lancelot had any idea what that line meant, never dreaming he could be comfortable with Gawain's interest, which meant only one thing. 

Pym was going into the river. He didn't care if she froze. 

And if a certain Viking leader watched as Gawain tossed a redheaded healer into the river, clearly just dragged out of bed, no one knew, not that early in the morning. 

Chapter Text

Gawain regretted walking into the healer's tent within seconds, but he needed an answer and generally, a certain redhead knew everything happening in the camp. 

"Pym. Why is Squirrel climbing everything and hanging twigs everywhere?" 

The healer was in the middle of balancing on a stool, also tying something to the roof of her tent. "Oh! Good, he didn't get distracted. I promised him I wouldn't embarrass him tonight by making him dance with me if he helped set up." 

Everyone was looking forward to the festivities, a well needed break after everything that had happened. Even Gawain was going, rather than staying on guard. He'd realised Lancelot had never been to a celebration and if Gawain had put himself of guard duty, Lancelot would have followed suit. 

But he knew better than to tell Pym that. It'd been a whole month since she'd done anything that made him want to throw her in the river again, and he didn't want to give her the idea to start up again. 

"That doesn't explain anything." 

Pym laughed, climbing down from the stool. "Well, the raiders are joining us tonight, and they were talking about some of their customs. I thought I might try make them feel welcomed by bringing them a piece of home." 

Gawain didn't look convinced, raising his eyebrow as he walked closer to see what she'd hung up, Pym walking backwards away from him. Another of those twigs. "Pym?" 

"It's mistletoe, they kiss under it. It's good luck or something." When Gawain shot her a sharp look, she just laughed. "Don't worry Gawain, this is just an attempt to get me some kisses." 

He hated how reasonable it sounded. That was the danger with Pym, she always sounded so reasonable until he found himself in an awkward situation with Lancelot. 

So of course, the Hidden saw fit to have Lancelot walk in, straight to Gawain's side. 

"Pym, why is Percival climbing over everything?"

Pym hadn't planned this one but it was so good, she nearly laughed. If Gawain wasn't glaring at her, she would have. 

"It's mistletoe, a Viking tradition. You're supposed to kiss under it." She pointed at the sprig that was above the heads of two men who would deny that they were blushing. As much as she wanted to stay, she slipped past them. "I better check on how things are going." 

Neither man moved. Well, Gawain nearly did, but then Lancelot looked at him, and... well, he didn't like to upset Lancelot. That was all. 

And he very much wanted to kiss him. 

It wouldn't hurt, just to use this excuse, but Lancelot looked so nervous. Gawain regretted staying so long, lingering there, now that he realised how obvious it was that Lancelot was only staying still because he thought he had to. 

The small peck on the cheek disappointed Lancelot. It wasn't like he hadn't given Gawain every chance in the past month, but the knight always stopped short of anything happening. 

Perhaps he was just being foolish to imagine anything would happen. 

--- 

The last thing Gawain expected was for the Red Spear to sit next to him, but he'd worked with her enough to respect her. Nodding once, he turned his attention back to the party. 

"I would like to talk to you about Pym." 

That also wasn't what Gawain expected, already rolling his eyes as he imagined this would be another conversation like the one he'd had with Arthur. 

"I know you are her brother, but I would like to make it clear you do not have a say if I decide to pursue her." Gawain choked on his ale, finally looking over at the woman again. Third unexpected thing, that was for certain. 

"I -"

"What? I was supposed to think otherwise? You are clearly courting the monk, you two raise a child together. Or are you bothered that I will not let you boss Pym around? She will make this decision, not you."

Gawain was not equipped for any part of this conversation, so he held his hand up in surrender, finishing the rest of his ale. "I'm not courting Lancelot. But you're right, Pym makes her own decisions, but she's been through a lot. Don't... Just don't hurt her. That's all." 

"You're not courting him? Good. I thought there would be a fight when you saw Gunnarr with him." 

Gawain's head whipped around to try find where Lancelot had last been, and he was definitely talking to some raider. Gawain's jaw clicked, but he didn't move, even when the Red Spear left, or when Pym dropped into the vacated space. 

"Hey, were you just talking to - whoa, what is that glare for?" 

"I thought you wanted to get caught under the mistletoe, shouldn't you be standing under some?" 

"I will, but you were talking to -"

"That was between us." 

Pym pouted, and Gawain knew that was unfair. He'd tell the redhead tomorrow, he decided. 

And then she spoke again and he changed his mind. 

"Hey, is that Lancelot talking to Gunnarr? Oh that is not good. Gunnarr is... well, he's very charming. It's dangerous, actually." 

Sometimes, Gawain forgot that Pym knew the raiders well, and he wished he didn't remember now, looking back over at the two men. It was very clear from the way the raider stood that he was flirting with Lancelot, and Gawain nearly growled. 

Perhaps he shouldn't have anything else to drink. 

"Well, I'm sure Lancelot will be fine in his hands. I know Lancelot wanted to learn a Fey dance tonight but maybe he'll learn a Viking one instead." Pym wasn't subtle at all, but Gawain ignored her, even as she got up again, shouting something about Nimue and Morgana and mistletoe. He didn't care, he couldn't stop staring at Lancelot. 

That was when he saw Gunnarr - what a stupid name - tilt Lancelot's chin up so they were looking at something above their heads. 

Nope. 

That wasn't happening, Lancelot's first kiss was not going to be some "charming" raider who didn't realise that Lancelot was nervous. Gawain didn't realise he'd gotten to his feet until he was standing next to Lancelot, his hand resting on the man's back as he glared at the Viking. 

He felt the way Lancelot shifted closer, as if glad he had come to the rescue. 

"Move on." The Knight's tone didn't invite argument, and since Lancelot didn't speak in his defence, the raider left. 

"That was rude." Lancelot's voice was mild and amused, which only annoyed Gawain more. 

"Would you have kissed him to be polite?" The flash of guilt in Lancelot's eyes was all the answer he needed. "No. You don't have to do that. If you get caught again, just kiss him on the cheek. Unless you want to be kissed." The idea didn't make him feel sick with jealousy, no. 

"I'm caught now." Lancelot glanced up, Gawain following his expression. 

Oh gods, why didn't he plan the rescue better? He was practically embracing Lancelot now, and the man literally just seemed to invite him to kiss him. 

Gawain had once thought the Weeping Monk would be the death of him, now he was convinced Lancelot would be. 

Since Lancelot was waiting for an answer, Gawain decided to throw caution to the wind. One kiss wouldn't hurt, just a little peck, maybe it'd make Lancelot realise how Gawain felt. 

But before he could do more than start to lean in, there was an ill timed interruption. 

"GROSS!" The shout made both men spring apart. "Why is everyone kissing? It's so gross. First Nimue and Morgana, now you two." Squirrel put his hands on his hips. "I don't want to see that. You're old, it's gross."

"Boy, don't make me throw you in the river." Gawain growled, but it was the wrong thing to say, Squirrel's eyes lighting up with the excitement of a new game. 

"Gross." The boy challenged, and well... as much as he wanted to see whether Lancelot would stay under the mistletoe with him, he supposed there was some truth to the fact they were raising Percival together.

Glancing over at Lancelot, Gawain smirked. "Going to help me get him?" Lancelot's answering smirk had Squirrel shouting in excitement as he ran off. 

Chapter Text

Something had changed last night, Lancelot knew that. He had no regrets about chasing Percival and helping Gawain to toss the squirming boy into the river, not when it’d felt so much like something a family would do. He liked that feeling, as though the three of them were a little family, something he’d never felt before.

But he really wanted to know what had been about to happen before their son Percival had interrupted.

Unfortunately for him, Gawain seemed to be avoiding him.

The Knight had woken early, slipping out of their tent while Lancelot only just started to stir. And he hadn’t come back for lunch like he often did. Maybe he should ask Pym to bully Gawain into resting again, the former monk decided.

Speaking of Pym, the healer was watching him intently.

“So…?”

Lancelot’s eyes flicked up to her face and back down to the sword he was sharpening. “I need more information if you wish me to answer that question.”

“What happened yesterday? You and Gawain under the mistletoe? You two finally stop being ridiculous clumps of denial and misery? Honestly, I’m going to lock you into a room if you don’t start talking.”

“Nothing happened.” It was true, and it made him wonder if maybe nothing happened because Gawain didn’t want anything to happen. But the way the knight had looked at him, that was something Lancelot couldn’t forget.

But before he could explain that to Pym, the redhead was marching out of the room, not even trying to hide her complaints about idiot men.

It was only the final threat to Gawain that had him following her out. He was torn between trying to stop her – even if she wasn’t a fighter by any means, she was still terrifying in her own way and Gawain didn’t deserve her wrath – and letting her loose to see what she did.

No, it probably wasn’t fair to subject Gawain to that. “Pym, whatever you are planning on doing, don’t.”

His order went ignored, and by the time they’d gotten to the river, Lancelot was getting nervous. “Pym, I mean it.” It was a threat now, but Pym just tossed a look over her shoulder at him.

“You’re about as scary as a kitten now, brother.” She turned away and waved at Gawain to get his attention.

Lancelot had no choice.

It was Pym’s own fault that she ended up spluttering in the river as Lancelot stood there with everyone watching them.

---

Gawain had no idea what Pym had done to warrant Lancelot pushing her into the river, but he figured it was probably deserved. Very well deserved, but since Lancelot was looking anywhere but him, Gawain was tempted to find the redhead and throw her in again. But the words she’d hissed at him that afternoon were still echoing in his head.

‘Just talk to him.’

As much as he hated to admit it, it was good advice. After last night, Lancelot had to know how Gawain felt. The knight would have to apologise for making him uncomfortable.

Their tent was often silent, they didn’t need to talk, but this evening, it felt stifling.

“Lancelot.” Gawain waited for the Ash man to look up at him. “I want to apologise.” Seeing him open his mouth, Gawain shook his head. “No, I do have to. Last night… well, maybe more than just last night. I made you uncomfortable, and that’s not fair of me. My feelings for you don’t give me any right to –“

“Your feelings?” Lancelot rarely interrupted, but those words were too full of hope.

“Yes. Didn’t you – I thought you’d realised, at least last night? Even you couldn’t be –“

Once again, Lancelot cut him off. “I thought you were upset with me because of my feelings.”

Gawain studied Lancelot for a few seconds, trying to determine the truth of the words. As much as they were words he wanted to hear, he knew that Lancelot was sometimes too obedient for his own good. But when he caught what the other Fey threw at him, he started to smile.

“Is this the mistletoe from the tent or when I rescued you from the raider?”

“The raider. I thought… I hoped you would kiss me.”

It was endearing to see the man who had once been his enemy blushing at the soft admission, and well, Gawain wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

As he crossed over to the other side of the tent, the flap opened, and in walked the usual troublemaker and the usual interruption.

“Out.” Gawain ordered, not looking at them as he kept his eyes on Lancelot.

“But sir!” Squirrel’s complaints could be heard as Pym dragged him out of the tent, and so could the healer’s laughter.

But Gawain didn’t care. “Would you let me kiss you now?” Lancelot’s blush probably couldn’t get any worse, but to Gawain’s relief, the man moved in closer.

“Would you just kiss me already-“ The word wasn’t finished, not when Lancelot’s mouth was suddenly very busy.

Chapter Text

“She’s such a hypocrite.” Sitting so close to Gawain that their legs touched, Lancelot was the only one who could hear Gawain’s muttered words.

“Who?” He dared to lean into Gawain’s space more, aware the man would welcome it but still wary of being seen like this.

“Pym.” Following the direction of Gawain’s gesture, he saw Pym talking to the Red Spear, a little confused why that made her a hypocrite until he realised she was blushing. And if Gawain said she was being a hypocrite, then… she wasn’t telling the Red Spear how she felt, after all the times she’d tried to push the two men together. Sometimes literally.

Lancelot wasn’t used to feeling so happy. Content was something he’d started to get used to here at the camp, but the past week, he’d felt truly happy.

Sometimes it scared him a little, he’d admitted that to Gawain. He didn’t deserve to be happy.

Gawain had done his best to talk him out of thinking that way – and to kiss him until he had forgotten what they’d started to talk about.

He knew it wasn’t as simple as it felt so far, that there was still work to be done. But for the first time, Lancelot looked to the future and felt he had something to live for, not just a duty to make amends.

And he knew in part, he had Pym to thank for that.

If she hadn’t hung that ridiculous mistletoe – a sprig of it was still tucked in with Lancelot’s few possessions to Gawain’s amusement – then they might have danced around their feelings for much longer than they already had.

So it seemed logical to turn to face Gawain, hoping anyone watching thought the colour in his cheeks was due to the proximity to the fire and not the proximity to Gawain, and suggest, “Should we help her?”

He might have regretted it the second he saw Gawain’s face light up, but Lancelot was still naïve enough to just be glad he was the reason that Gawain smiled like that. If he’d known what it’d entail, maybe he would have kept his mouth shut.

“Yes, we should.”

---

Gawain would much rather be whispering words to coax Lancelot somewhere private and explore just how far down the Ash man’s blush went, but he knew Lancelot was still getting used to all of this. He’d settle for kissing him senseless when they retired for the night.

Besides, it would be fun to get Pym back for the whole ‘are you happy or is that a dagger’ line she’d fed Lancelot.

Though, he was definitely going to steal that line later tonight while kissing Lancelot.

Fine, maybe he pressed a little kiss to Lancelot’s cheek as he finished giving him instructions on what to do, and the way he patted the Ash man’s thigh before standing was higher than it had any need to be. He could multi-task, fluster Lancelot and tease Pym and make Pym happy all at the same time.

Gawain didn’t want to walk off, but at least he had a good reason to leave Lancelot alone at the moment. He had no doubt that Lancelot would do as he’d suggested, no matter how terrifying the woman he was going to face could be.

Truthfully, Gawain had cheated and taken the easier part. He’d make it up to Lancelot later.

“So.” He dropped into the space next to the Red Spear. “You still interested in my sister?”

The warning look he got from the woman was enough to make him snort. As far as man-bloods went, she wasn’t too bad. Pym could certainly do worse. Nimue had.

“I wouldn’t move, if I were you.” He suggested as the Viking leader started to stand. “No, that wasn’t a threat, it was a suggestion. This is a threat.” Gawain’s small smile turned sharp. “You hurt her in any way, then I will destroy you. You do not deserve her, you will never deserve her, so you best treat her like she is a queen in your eyes.”

Before the woman could have a chance to retort, they were interrupted by shouts.

“Lancelot, I swear to the Hidden, if you don’t put me down, I will –” The sound was muffled for a second before it started up again. “That’s right, I bite, now put me down, what do you think you’re doing? Have you lost your – Gawain, make him put me down.”

Gawain’s sharp smile turned into a full-blown grin as he looked at the tiny redhead that was trying to escape his lover’s grasp. “Of course. Lancelot, put her down.”

And he did. Directly into the Red Spear’s lap.

“Perhaps if you’re too busy, you’ll leave us alone.” He teased as he stood up, moving closer to Lancelot.

He had to give the Red Spear credit, she took advantage of an opportunity, her arms snaking around Pym’s waist before the healer could flee.

He didn’t look back as he tugged Lancelot off to their tent, but if he had, he would have known that his plan had succeeded. There weren’t any shouts of complaint, which he took to mean that the women had found something better to do with their mouths.

“She bit me.”

The complaint from Lancelot made him laugh, Gawain pulling him close. “Perhaps you should show me where. I’ll kiss it better.”