Work Text:
Lancelot started feeling weird when he came back from a mission in the Kingdom of Fallflare. He had been sent to help the demons in the smaller villages to push back the knights of Camelot.
Obviously, he managed to bring back peace in the hearts of all the habitants (by beating the shit out of the Chaos knights ) pretty easily even if he was alone.
But on the way back to Liones, some of his powers were more developed than usual.
Nothing really useful, it was only his capacity to read hearts and his (little and not very well controlled in general) plant control that developed. Every time he wasn’t careful and didn’t keep all of his magic well hidden inside his body, plants would grow around him. And he heard the thoughts of habitants of villages when he was in a forest far away !
He voluntarily stayed away from any kind of cities or regroupements of people, he only could take so much more damage ! It extended his trip but his head thanked him.
His heart didn’t.
It meant he wouldn’t see his love for at least two days more because he had to bypass two other kingdoms.
And for some unknown reason he was slower than usual, which would again extend his trip of one more day !! He would fasten his past by any way.
Even thinking about it was making him feel sad and tired, sad to not see Tristan when he should have come with him but was kept in the kingdom to protect it, and tired because his head hurted, his legs hurted, his arms hurted and his magic was driving him crazy.
He had three more days of walking in the forest. The first day, he had used his fox self to run faster, because he was smaller and was able to pass by short cuts. The second day he used his fairy self, and flew above the mountains. It was absolutely exhausting but he burnt magic so he had less to restrain. The third day was the worst for him, he wasn’t able to change physically so had to run and sometimes walk when he was too worn out, eventually pushing his limits to come back faster.
Fortunately, he arrived at Liones in the evening of the third day, using his wings to fly directly to the castle.
Saying that Lancelot was tired was an understatement, he was empty inside, expecting from the pain he could feel in his every bones.
When he reported the main steps of his mission to Meliodas, he was shivering but sweating, his hands were shaking and his eyelids were dropping on their own. He never felt dizzier in his life.
“Are you well, Lancelot ?” Asked the king, not quite sure of how to ask questions to such a mysterious teenager.
“I’m fine, I think I’m done now,” the fairy answered, already trying to leave.
“Could you just stay here for a bit ? I’m going to call Tristan, he’ll take care of you,” he wanted to call a guard and make his request but a second after the end of his sentence Lancelot let out with a firm voice :
“I said I’m fine !”
“I’m sure you’re fine, but wouldn’t you want to see Tristan before anyone else ?”
And he wanted to see Tristan before anyone else, at this instant it was the only thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to teleport magically into their room, let the angel play with his hair and sleep for six days in a row. So he said yes, because face the noises of the hallways were hell without the other by his side.
The minutes after he agreed were spent in total silence, but not for Lancelot, who had to hear all of the hearts of everyone in and out of the castle in a range of, approximately 1 km or half a mile around it. The fairy wasn’t able to keep eye contact with the real world and his eyes were just staring in the void.
That’s why he didn’t hear the rapid footsteps clapping on the floor.
He discerned a muffled voice behind all of the tumult but couldn't tell what it was saying or who was talking. And then, he felt him, his missing piece. He felt a cold hand resting on his cheek, Lancelot immediately comforted himself in the solace of the presence in front of him and leaned in the small touch against his face.
“Goddesses, you’re burning up !” declared Tristan, now understanding why his father had sent someone after him instead of going himself, the poor teenager couldn’t be left unattended !
Before the fairy could respond ‘no I am not’ like a good hypocrite, he collapsed into his lover’s arms.
He could only hear his name being called multiple times before he was completely out.
Lancelot woke up in his bed after that incident. His blanket was heavy on his body, surely it wasn't only one. A damp and cold towel was against his feverish skin, he took it off quickly after noticing using his aching arm, even if he regretted the sensation on his forehead.
Holding his hand, Tristan was sleeping beside him on their bed. He hesitated to wake him but seeing the dark sky outside the window told him to not.
However, a coughing fit seized him and woke the other up anyway. Tristan hit his back just a bit to help, even if it wasn't very successful.
“What's happening to me ?” Asked Lancelot, his voice rough afterwards.
“You’ve caught something, I don’t remember the name, while you were out.”
“I don’t want to contaminate you, I should sleep somewhere else,” he croaked, beginning to slide his painful legs down the bed.
“Don’t worry, only fairies and humans can have it, and it’s deadly for humans so you are not getting out of this room until you’re entirely healthy.” Tristan pulled a bit on the other’s legs to keep them underneath the covers, “Luckily, your immune system is more fairy than human. Tioreh had you tested, and she put a spell isolating the thoughts and voices of everyone outside the room because you were complaining in your sleep that it was too loud.”
“So I’m staying only with you for only the sacred tree knows how long without seeing or hearing anyone else ? What a nightmare,” the fairy answered sarcastically, his head pounding against his bones.
“You’re staying here until my mom comes back from the fairy king’s forest and she heals you, I can't, it's a sickness I never saw.”
“I don’t care as long as I’m with you,” Lancelot whispered, finally getting back under the blankets and weakly pulling Tristan in with him.
The angel agreed happily, used (an insane amount of ) his force to get up the covers to get below all of it ( why was it so heavy ?) and grabbed his fairy into a tight embrace, not enough to hurt him. Never wanting to let go.
When the blond prince fell into his arms it was terrifying. He was always so strong and independent, seeing him fall unconscious was the scariest thing he ever watched. His powers were useless and having to let go of his body for Tioreh to examine was the worst.
“I can hear you stressing when we should both rest, I feel like such a burden,” croaked Lancelot, after another coughing fit.
“You are not a burden, Lancelot. It’s just that…” the angel got up on his elbows, facing the human, “you’re too important to me and if I’m so weak that I can’t save you from whatever you’re facing, it would mean I’m no good for anything. I don’t know what to do without you, so please don't let this sickness get to you.” plaided Tristan, leaning to kiss the other’s forehead. “ You’re still burning up,” he said, feeling the warmth on his lips, “where did you put the wet cloth ?”, looking around, Tristan couldn't find it.
“I love you.”
Turning back quickly, Tristan was more astonished by the suddenness of the declaration than by the declaration itself. They had already told each other this kind of thing but never so bluntly and out of the original subject. He wasn’t expecting this out of the blue.
He stopped a little before answering.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
They didn’t normally use pet names, only for special occasions where comfort was really needed. And at this moment, it was needed for Lancelot, who breathlessly tried to keep his eyes open.
“I love you too,” he repeated, his fingers stroking the sweaty blond hair, “now go to sleep, you need it. Let me take care of you for once,” his voice growing quieter by the second.
The fairy agreed, feeling exhausted already and the tiredness getting to him.
But he didn’t want to sleep. He would fake it to make Tristan happy, because he would do anything for his angel, but he wouldn't sleep until this sickness was out of his body.
He knew how disastrous his sleep was when he was sick, and it wasn't great. So he made his decision : no sleep until Elizabeth was back.
He closed his eyes like they wanted him to do for hours now, controlled his breathing, and stayed awake, just resting.
But it didn't fool Tristan, who could see by the tension in his muscles and by his trembling members that Lancelot wasn't really asleep.
Tristan knew why the other wanted to stay awake, he already asked and already got the answer : because his body and magic was fighting the bacterias, his mind was left unattended for the bad dreams to come.
“Lancelot, you should really sleep,”said Tristan.
“I’m sleeping, thank you very much. I'm sure I would sleep even better if we were cuddling,” he answered, opening his arms and smiling, still with his eyes closed.
Tristan paused, smirked to himself and got comfortable with his back against his lover’s front. However, he didn’t forget the original subject, sadly for Lancelot who thought it would distract him enough.
“Are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re going to have a nightmare ?”
Silence followed, the room was quiet and neither of the two teenagers moved.
Until the silver haired prince took the hand, which was over his own so far, in his own.
“Darling, you need to sleep or your body won’t be able to heal itself until my mother shows up. Even if it means having potential nightmares, it’s not certain.”
“I will have them, like I always do.”
“Then I’ll be here to wake you up if you do. Just let me take care of you, why are you so stubborn ?”
Lancelot listed the pros and cons and he wasn’t very happy with the result that told him Tristan was right. He sighed and said :
“I’ll try my best but the fever already makes me half hallucinating so make sure to do your job good for me please,” before kissing the silver crown of hair.
“I promise you,” answered Tristan, turning his body to be fully in front of Lancelot, “ nonetheless, for I am your nurse, I command you to lay on your back. I need to put back this cloth on your forehead before your head explodes.”
The fairy didn’t want to admit it but the damp towel on his burning face was a delicious feeling, and if moving every member of his aching body was the price to pay, he would do it.
Following the retrieval of the rag, the angel wetted it and winged it out before putting it back where it should have been for an hour now.
A content sight could be heard leaving the lips of Lancelot, finally relieved of a sharp pain inside his head.
Tristan smiled softly at this sound he knew he was the source of. He always loved to keep his lover away from any kind of distress, from a sickness, to any of his injuries, passing by his father, who he didn’t force to see again until he was ready.
Coming back in the bed and curling against the side of the sick, the improvised nurse put his head on the pillow next to the other’s face and examined his face.
He always thought he was beautiful, even in his worst states. Of course Tristan wasn’t the only one to think that Lancelot was aesthetic pleasing, and it was a renowned fact. Sadly it was agreed by people he didn’t want to see agree, like Jericho or this little girl, Guinevere.
Everytime he thought about those girls he felt bad for the fairy. A strike in his heart reminded him he had an easy life compared to the human. He was loved by his parents, his sort of master figure, if he could call Gowther like it, was not in love with him, he didn’t have all of his father’s hopes on his shoulder, which was sad on both parts.
After his existential crisis, Tristan figured out the boy next to him was finally asleep, even if all his thinking had to disturb him, especially when his heart reading ability was so extended in his sick state. He succeeded nonetheless, which meant he was surely extremely tired.
Taking a last look at the poor boy whose left arm was around his waist, Tristan gently lifted himself out of the bed and onto the floor and began to do some chores a nurse would be expected to do, more or less, considering that he still wanted to wash his own room to get a clean station for the “ patient”.
Looking out the window before getting to work, he noticed dark clouds starting to color the sky and hiding the moonlight. But it wasn’t enough to discourage the prince.
The angel grabbed the bucket of water next to his bed, previously used as a change of the water on the cloth, and as quietly as possible poured it onto the floor. Tristan replaced the water in the bucket, changing the towel on Lancelot’s forehead at the same time, took a brush and started scrubbing the ground. Doing so made him stop thinking, or at least less than normally, which was a very good thing, because if he thought too much it would maybe wake the fairy.
Once the flooring scrubbed, cleaned, and dried, the demon began the next task, doing the paperwork of his previous mission, which made him stay in the kingdom when he should have come with Lancelot on his assignment.
Deciding he had time to spend, he wrote three entire pages about it. But giving it to the council could wait until tomorrow.
The third task of the night was to make his schedule for the entire week, making him remember he had to go to a meeting next Tuesday. Brilliant…
Maybe he could say he was sick on this day ? Or maybe he could say he was too busy committing sins, it would be hereditary.
Even when he was sparing in a mental fight between lying to miss it or not, Tristan saw a slight movement in the corner of his eyes. Looking at the source of it, he was not so surprised to only see Lancelot moving in his sleep. He was more surprised by the small pain expression on his face, the unshed tears in his closed eyes, the irregularity of his movements, his right hand reaching out for nothing and the mumble of a small “ Tristan” coming out of his trembling lips.
Tristan ran to the side of his lover faster than he had ever ran. Calling his name and shaking the unconscious body to force him into awakeness.
Lancelot's eyes flew open and he got up from his laying state. The wet cloth which had been replaced a few minutes ago fell from his forehead. Looking around and fixing his eyes on the demon next to him, the tears in his eyes finally slipped.
“What was it ?”, Tristan whispered, being as gentle as possible.
“A nightmare,” the fairy answered with a small smile, trying to be funny and whispering too for comical effect.
But his smile quickly fell and his expression turned into pain as the water striped his face.
“My head hurts so much,” he croaked between two hiccups, letting his arms reach for Tristan, who got on the bed to hold him softly.
Lancelot hid his face into the crook of the prince’s neck.
“Do you want to talk about it ?” Tristan asked, combling the fairy’s hair with his fingers while slowly rubbing his back.
The response wasn’t heard for a minute, but the answer was a almost silent ‘I don’t know’.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to. But if you want to talk, remember you can.”
Lancelot just continued to cry noiselessly, inseparable of his other half, sniffing due to his sickness and crying. His entire body was stiff and he was grabbing the back of Tristan’s shirt for dear life. On the opposite, the angel was only holding him closely and intimately, nothing could get between them.
All of what could be heard was the occasional sniffing and the shushing of Tristan.
Once the tears were over, but the hiccups weren’t, the crying fairy head’s got up, still not looking in his boyfriend’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, I’m a weight when I’m sick,” his voice trembling.
Putting a finger under the other’s chin, the angel forced his crimson eyes to be locked with his heterochromatic ones.
“You’ll never be a weight, sweetheart,” he declared, pulling his lips closer and kissing his human before pressing their forehead together, “you’re still burning up, get back down and I’ll put the cloth on your head.”
Tristan got out of the bed while Lancelot coughed his lungs out and tried to lie down with his sore muscles. He thought again about his nightmare, it was terrible, even worse than the ones before, because it involved Tristan this time.
“I just want us to be safe,” the fairy murmured.
The demon turned back from the closet he was looking into to find a new towel, the one previously used was starting to be dirty from all that sweat.
“That’s what I want as well, my love, ” he answered.
Tristan walked back silently to the side of the bed with his new found cloth, wetted and winged it out to put it back onto the other boy.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after that,” muttered Lancelot, staring in the void.
“Then just rest, I’ll still be right with you,” answered the goddess, sitting on the bed while holding the blond boy’s hand like he did when he woke up the first time.
“And will you still be right for me like you did till now ?” Lancelot accentuated the ‘for’ to make himself understand.
“Always and forever,” his demon responded.