Work Text:
Tesilid Argent had fought monsters.
He had confronted unspeakable horrors, walked through centuries of endless loops, and survived betrayals that would have broken lesser men. He had stared down divine punishment, chaos incarnate, and all manners of apocalyptic prophecies.
And yet, nothing—not even the most fearsome demon lords—had prepared him for Ailette Rodeline’s unfiltered affection.
It wasn’t that she did it intentionally.
In fact, Tesilid suspected she didn’t realize what she was doing most of the time. That somehow made it worse. Or… maybe better. It was difficult to tell, because every time she smiled at him that way, every time she leaned on him casually or tugged at his sleeve, every time she reached up and gently fixed his hair with the softest little hum of concentration…
His heart would absolutely betray him.
It always started innocently enough.
Like now.
Tesilid was reading on the porch, a cup of tea beside him, when Ailette stepped outside wrapped in the soft woolen blanket from their couch. Her hair was slightly tousled from a nap, her feet bare as they made soft shuffling sounds across the wooden floor.
And then—
She sat beside him. Correction: on him.
She didn’t ask. Didn’t even glance at him like she was weighing the idea. She simply plopped herself right down next to him, pulled the blanket over the both of them, and curled into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Tesilid’s soul left his body.
“Ailette,” he said, stiff as a statue. “You’re… very close.”
“Mm. You’re warm,” she murmured sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder.
“You smell like honey and old books today. It’s nice.”
He blinked. His hand hovered awkwardly midair, unsure of whether to touch her back or just short-circuit on the spot. His ears were a little red. His heart a lot loud.
“…I do?”
“Mmhm. You always do.”
Silence fell, broken only by the rustling of the breeze and the fluttering pages of his book, which he had now completely forgotten how to read.
This sort of thing happened a lot.
Like the time they were walking through the village market, and she casually grabbed his hand in front of everyone.
Tesilid had frozen so hard a passing goat had headbutted him in the knee.
“Tesilid?” Ailette had blinked up at him, lacing her fingers tighter with his. “Did I do something weird?”
“No. I just—wasn’t expecting it.”
“Expecting what?”
“…You,” he said helplessly.
There was another time—an especially dangerous one—when she had kissed his cheek mid-conversation.
He had just returned from running errands for her. The sun was setting in golden-pink hues as she stirred a pot of soup by the hearth. She looked up as he stepped inside, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and beamed like he was the best part of her day.
He was still removing his gloves when she walked over, reached up on tiptoe, and pressed a light, feather-soft kiss to his cheek.
“Welcome home,” she said warmly.
Tesilid dropped the gloves.
“I—uh,” he choked. “Thank you. For the kiss. I mean. The welcome. I mean. Hello.”
She giggled, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “Why are you always so surprised?”
'Because you could knock me out with a smile and I wouldn’t even mind,' he wanted to say.
Instead, he just awkwardly took a spoonful of soup and burned his tongue.
To her credit, Ailette never pushed. She didn’t expect anything from him. She just gave affection freely, like it was her way of breathing.
And Tesilid, poor paladin that he was, didn’t know how to handle receiving love when all he’d ever known was sacrifice.
So he slowly learned.
He learned to lean into her touches instead of flinching away.
He learned that when she hugged him from behind while he was washing dishes, she wasn’t trying to make him drop the plate—she just liked hugging him.
He learned that she liked tucking her cold feet under his legs on the couch, and she never meant to startle him (even if it worked every single time).
He learned that when she stared at him dreamily across the dinner table, it wasn’t because he had something on his face—it was because she was memorizing the way he looked when he was happy.
And slowly, inch by inch, he gave affection back.
It was awkward at first. Stiff little forehead kisses. Hand-holding where he’d grip her fingers like he was hanging off a cliff.
But Ailette never laughed at him. Never once.
In fact, every time he tried, her eyes would soften like he’d just handed her the world.
One chilly evening, Ailette was curled up in bed reading when Tesilid entered their room with two mugs of hot cocoa.
She looked up and smiled sleepily. “Thanks, Tes.”
He handed her a mug, then hesitated.
Without a word, he leaned down, gently kissed her forehead, then slid into bed beside her.
Ailette blinked.
Tesilid pretended to sip his cocoa.
His ears were definitely red.
“Tesilid…”
“Hm?”
“…Did you just affection-attack me?”
He sputtered. “Affection—what?”
“You’ve been reverse-carded,” she said smugly. “My strategy’s finally working.”
“You have a strategy?!”
She set down her mug, tackled him into a hug, and nuzzled her cheek against his. “Yup. It’s called: ‘Make Tesilid melt until he admits he likes being loved.’”
“I do not melt—”
“You do.”
“…Okay,” he mumbled, caught in her embrace. “Maybe a little.”
That night, as they lay in bed tangled together, Ailette’s hand resting over his heart, Tesilid whispered into her hair:
“I didn’t know love could feel like this.”
Ailette smiled sleepily. “Like what?”
“Soft. Constant. Warm.”
She looked up at him, her voice barely a breath. “This is what it’s supposed to be like, Tes.”
He kissed her forehead again, less clumsy this time.
“Then I’ll spend every day learning how to love you better.”
“And I’ll keep affection-attacking you until you’re a complete mess.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”