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Guy looked around the outlaw’s camp. They’d taken him in, that was true, but he knew they didn’t trust him. Robin tolerated him, but the others made it clear he was unwelcome. He did what he could to help; doing all the tasks no-one else wanted without complaining. He did his best to ignore the jibes and the sly comments. He sat on his own when they ate; grateful that Friar Tuck insisted they feed him, at the same time wishing Tuck would sit next to him and give him just a little human contact. At least they let him sleep reasonably close to them at nights, although he suspected that was to make sure he didn’t sneak away, rather than out of any concern for his wellbeing.
Guy settled himself into his hammock and chided himself for the tears he could feel on his cheeks. A sudden crunch in the leaves and someone was leaning over him. He resigned himself to the idea that, after all, one of the gang had decided to kill him. Then a gentle hand brushed the hair from his face and he felt a soft kiss, followed by the words, “Sleep well!”
Guy stirred and reached out.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” came the whisper in his ear.
“Don’t be,” Guy replied. He felt the other man pull back. “Please stay.”
In response he felt an arm around his shoulders and he let himself be pulled from his hammock onto the leaves below. He put his arms around his new companion and felt himself being hugged in turn.
“Oh, Much,” he said.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” Much whispered, “but I didn’t think you’d like it.”
Guy responded by kissing Much sufficiently that he would no longer be in any doubt as to whether he liked it.