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Galahad saw his breath in the frigid night air mix with a few stray snowflakes foretelling the upcoming storm. He sighed looking up at the sky, hoping whatever Gods did exist would hold off the worst of it until they were home. The cold bit at his bones as he huddled under his wool blanket for warmth looking from his post under a large oak tree out to the horizon. The sun had set some time ago and the moon managed to creep out among the clouds in the sky, giving the ground below the cliff where Galahad sat an eerie glow.
"Well hello there old man," Lancelot said sauntering over and elbowing Galahad in the side.
He looked at Lancelot puzzled for a moment and then he remembered what day it was. "Shit. It must've slipped my mind."
"Well, we did not forget our precious Galahad’s birthday," Lancelot pulled Galahad away from the cliff and pushed him towards the camp. "I'm taking over watch. Go get something to drink."
Excited at the thought of the of the fire and a few glasses of something to warm him up Galahad couldn’t hide the happiness in his voice, “oh thank God. It’s freezing out here.”
“Don’t thank me or anything you shit.” Lancelot called out as Galahad entered the small patch of woods separating their camp from the lookout point. After a few feet he could make out the orange glow of the fire and the small clearing where the knights had set up camp. The steady noise of men talking soon overwhelmed the crunch of Galahad’s footsteps in the snow as he neared the group. He broke through the trees and immediately felt two strong arms scoop him up into a bear hug. His world came out of focus as he was spun around when suddenly Gawain’s face inches from his and smelling of beer.
"Here's the wee Birthday boy!" Gawain shouted spinning Galahad around again.
“Alright, alright you obnoxious ass. Down now,” Galahad hit the other man’s arms to get him to let go.
Gawain finally released his grip and Galahad’s feet landed with a thud on uneven ground. The unsure footing aggravated by Gawain's spinning him like a rag doll caused him to lose his balance and fall into the person standing beside him. His senses filled with the scent of earth, well-worn leather, and a hint of spice. He looked up to see Tristan looking at him unfazed by their collision as he sipped out of his flagon.
Galahad's heart skipped and he stood up, mumbling an apology to Tristan. The deep voice of the soldier chuckled softly as Galahad felt a large hand ruffle the curls on his head.
"Looking a little tipsy there, have you started celebrating without us?" Tristan said.
Galahad tried to will the blush out of his cheeks as he turned from Tristan to take a seat on the ground next to Gawain, Tristan followed suit but he sat much too far away for Galahad’s liking.
"Well we fucking have." Bors howled from the other side of the fire, proudly holding up an empty tankard.
Galahad laughed as Gawain shoved a large bottle into his hands. The men started cheering as Galahad put the bottle to his lips and started to drink the mead that flowed from within. He passed the mead to Gawain who took a sip and then passed it along. The men started to a song and Galahad looked at each face lit by the fire singing along with a smile. He was the youngest among them, taken from home earlier than the others since there was a lack of able bodied boys in his village. They'd been like his older brothers and he'd learned much from them over the years.
"Boys boys! If I may, a speech about our beloved baby brother." Gawain stood and hushed the group. "A speech...eh... given by our leader of course."
Arthur gave Gawain a pained look, clearly been put on the spot. He stood to address the group, "Galahad. You're the youngest of us. When you first came to us there were many who said you were far too young to fight. You worked hard and proved them wrong."
The men cheered.
"I dare say you've taught me as much as I've taught you. I feel honored to fight beside you. Normally, I'd have a beautiful lady to kiss you but unfortunately you're stuck with this lot."
"Yes, pucker up darlin'." Bors made a kissing noise and Galahad shook his head while the group broke out into laughter.
"Ah you know he's waiting for his true love." Gawain said in a mocking tone pinching Galahad’s cheek.
Galahad rolled his eyes. He’d gotten drunk with them one time at the castle, the conversation had turned to him being a virgin and the words had just slipped out. Of course he hadn't finished it up with "and the person that I love is Tristan."He hadn't had the guts. He looked over at the rugged man who had stolen his heart and doubted he ever would. To his surprise Tristan smiled at him, his pointed canines glinting in the firelight.
"Nothing wrong with that," Tristan said, "If you're both inexperienced you won't know if it's bad."
Galahad blushed with embarrassment and turned back to the fire. Arthur started in another song and the mead found it’s way around the circle. Gawain flopped down next to Galahad, pushing him into Tristan for the second time.
“Really, Gawain, do you have to take up every inch of space in the damn forest?”
Galahad sensed Tristan get closer to him and his body became alert. "It’s okay pup, why don't you scoot over lest Gawain will push you into the fire with his next movement." Tristan spoke into Galahad's ear, causing a shiver of excitement to run through his body. Pup, the nickname had started when they were much younger, when Galahad hated Tristan and he was sure the feeling was mutual. As the years had gone by his feelings towards Tristan had changed into something deeper than the childish hatred. They’d formed a closer bond as knights in battle and Galahad had proven himself a hundred times over but the nickname had stuck. The words elicited a much different response now than it did on the practice field as a child, frustrated at Tristan’s natural skills as a warrior compared to his ungraceful defenses. He'd spent many nights pleasuring himself to the thought of Tristan calling him the nickname in a much more intimate setting. He didn't dare tell anyone else. Not that he thought he'd be shunned but more because he knew they would all be incorrigible bastards about it until the day he died. Also the fact that he had pretty firm evidence that Tristan liked women and as pretty as the boys said Galahad was, he knew it wasn't the kind of pretty Tristan would take to bed. However, that didn’t mean Galahad didn’t seize any opportunity to be close to him.
"I think you're right, Tristan. Nicer over here anyways," Galahad moved close enough so he could feel the heat coming off of Tristan’s arm next to his.
Tristan passed the mead to him and their fingers touched. Tristan leaned forward and Galahad licked his lips. For a second he didn't care about the men, he wanted to taste the mead on Tristan's lips more than anything else.
“Tristan…” Galahad whispered so the rest of the men couldn’t hear his words above their shouting.
Tristan pulled back and gave him a half-hearted smile before letting the mead bottle go, "Happy birthday, Galahad."
Tristan stood and Galahad struggled trying to find the words to make him stay without sounding like a lovesick girl in front of the group. Some of the men called out in protest as Tristan walked away from the group without looking back. Galahad's shoulders slumped and he took a drink, trying to see if he could taste Tristan on the lip of the bottle. The only thing he tasted was the overly sweet liquid inside that he’d lost his thirst for.
Gawain took the mead out of his hand shrugging, "Probably had to take a piss."
But time passed. The mead continued around the circle, songs were sung, and Tristan didn't return.
"You'd better have saved some of that for me." Lancelot sat down next to Arthur, pulling the mead out of his grip and drinking the rest of the bottle.
"Who's watching the camp?" Arthur asked.
"Tristan said he would." Lancelot looked at Gawain across the fire and Galahad felt tension between them. He couldn't figure out why, the two had been in amicable moods earlier.
"Okay birthday boy. Get up." Gawain's arms roughly pulled Galahad up.
He hadn't had enough mead to be drunk but the sudden surge upward bad him listing back and forth for a second. "I’m really sick of being shoved around by you two today." Galahad said gesturing between Gawain and Lancelot. “What’s going on?”
"You are supposed to be on watch. Poor Tristan is doing your duty." Gawain nudged Galahad in the direction of the lookout point.
He looked back at the group. Lancelot and Gawain were yelling at him to go. Arthur just shook his head at their commotion and Bors just tipped his tankard in the air shouting something unintelligible. Galahad huffed, turning around. One hell of a birthday. Now he was off to see Tristan and he feared the older man was in one of his "I need to be alone" moments. As the clearing came into view he saw Tristan's form outlined in the moonlight sitting under the same tree he’d left earlier. The snow was still falling a leisurely pace and he was far enough from camp to muffle the noises from the rowdy group back at the fire.
"Tristan." Galahad spoke loud enough to make his presence known.
"Sick of the party already?" Tristan's eyes remained fixed on the horizon as Galahad came to stand next to him. The other man leaned against the tree with a blanket pulled around him, his bow and quiver beside him ready at a moment’s notice.
"Kicked out actually, I'm back on watch it would seem."
"Oh?" Tristan started to move and Galahad panicked. He’d wanted to see Tristan today, more than anyone else.
"Don't go," the words were out before he could stop them.
Tristan looked up at him, Galahad was unable to read his expression, "Okay."
Galahad sat below a tree opposite Tristan, his feet bumping up against the other man's. They both stared into the valley below studying the white covered landscape for signs of movement. A gust of wind curled up the hillside, carrying a sheen of snow that clung to the men as it passed. Galahad shivered and Tristan kicked his boot. He looked up to see Tristan had pulled back the blanket next to him enough for Galahad to sit. He got up and quickly tucked himself beside Tristan before his nerves had the chance to talk him out of it. The other man folded the blanket around him.
"Better get warm, Pup, I think this wind is just the beginning." Tristan's breath was in his hair.
Galahad puffed out a laugh that turned to smoke in the air, "Remember the first time you called me that?”
"Too small to hold a sword, too puny to pull a bow. What else could I call you?"
"Oh my name, maybe."
"Naw. It suits you."
"I guess you're right."
"It used to piss you off," Tristan shifted and looked at Galahad, snow clinging to his hair making him look like something from a fairytale. "What changed?"
Galahad swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Well... I guess I like you more."
"Oh?" Tristan's arm reached around Galahad, pulling him close. Galahad ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks and the lust he knew would show in his eyes. Being up here with Tristan was a stupid idea. He'd already said too much. Now the silence hung over them only filled by the whisper of light wind came over the mountains.
"I like you too, Galahad."
Tristan looked at him with an openness in his expression he'd never seen before, resting his hand on Galahad’s cheek. Galahad licked his lips and prayed that Tristan would kiss him. Instead, the older man turned away muttering something under his breath.
Galahad thought about the battles they'd fought in, how many times they'd come close to losing each other, and how they still had many battles left to fight before they were free. He couldn't risk leaving it unsaid. He found he didn't care what the other man's reaction was, he just wanted him to know.
"Arthur was wrong you know."
"About what?"
"Saying there's no one here I want to kiss."
Tristan's eyes widened and he smiled, "Why haven't you, then? You're old enough."
Galahad surged forward pressing his lips against Tristan's. For a moment he panicked as the other man didn't respond right away. But then Tristan was kissing him back with enthusiasm and pulling him into his lap. They kissed and another cool breeze wrapped around them. Galahad felt the blanket pulled up to the back of his head, protecting them both from the wind. He pulled back and let himself melt into Tristan’s embrace, his mind still spinning from what had just happened.
"Happy birthday, pup." Tristan said in a hushed tone, hugging Galahad tightly to his chest.
"Can I stay with you tonight?"
"Of course, I haven’t given you your present yet."
“What do you -” Galahad’s question was cut off as Tristan pulled him in for another kiss. The older man’s hips bucked up slightly and Galahad felt the thick heat of Tristan’s erection through his pants. He made a sound of pleasure and lost himself in the kiss, his mind humming with anticipation of what might come next.
------
Lancelot and Gawain looked at the happy couple from a safe distance. They’d both gotten under the blanket before the two had arrived but the movements of the bodies under the blanket, let the men know they’d succeeded at achieving their goal.
"Finally. That doe-eyed unspoken romance between them has gone on for far too long," Lancelot sighed feeling pleased with himself.
"Agreed. I think that tonight was a success, wouldn’t you say?” Gawain grabbed Lancelot by the arm, shaking him with glee.
“We are quite good at this.”
“So, how long till he gets Galahad into his tent?" said Gawain.
A moan came from the direction of the lookout and Lancelot had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.
"Oh I don't think they need a..."
The whistle of an arrow split the air and Gawain looked to see one of Tristan's arrows land in the tree next to his head. "Maybe we should go." He said backing away.
"Good idea."
The two ran back to the fire, taking bets on how sore Galahad would be in the morning.