Work Text:
“Can I move yet?” The knight whines like a toddler, trying to shift his position against the bench to make it just slightly more comfortable. The hands in his hair hold him in place.
“Sit still.” Scott hums, letting go for a minute, likely to let Nom change the way he’s sitting despite telling him off but a moment ago. The dragon gratefully takes this reprieve to sit differently so his legs aren’t falling asleep from under him. Something shuffles behind Nom, and, if the dragon were to guess, Scott is probably getting yet another flower to add to the crown he’s creating on his head. Against his will, of course. Nom would never consent to such a thing. Especially not if the blonde asked him nicely and fluttered his lashes. Nope. Totally not. How he ended up in this situation beats him.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this.” Well, shit.
Nom doesn’t think he can be blamed for this. Scott already had the flowers picked out (red orchids and axil something something goldenrods), and when an objectively pretty guy asks you to be in close proximity for an uncertain amount of time while blinking their gorgeous green eyes at you…well, you certainly don’t reject them. Not like Nom is physically capable of telling Scott no anyways.
A warm hand pokes his cheek, a completely natural flush surrounding the touch. “You alive?”
“Oh, um, yeah. You’re welcome.”
The blonde hums once more in acknowledgment, a sweet sound. So much better than his sad or anxious hums he makes unconsciously. The vibrations of his chest pressed so closely to Nom’s head is enough to make the knight feel slightly dizzy.
A hand just barely brushes his horns, such a sensitive part of him, likely by accident. Still it feels like it sends a thousand volts of electricity through his spine, freezing under the warm touch. Thud. Stupid dragon tail.
Then the heat is gone as quick as it came. The knight almost mourns it.
Scott stops momentarily, noticing Nom’s sudden stillness, waiting to be told off. When he does not, he continues his braiding.
And Nom melts. Some strands end up getting slightly tugged on, resulting in whispered apologies from the so gentle mage. The dragon could die happy like this. With Scott’s hands in his hair and his body so close to his. Close enough to feel the heat emanating from him. Close enough to hold. Close enough to turn around and…
Don’t go down that lane of thought. He chides himself, feeling his face gain a slight red tint. Blonde hair flashes in his peripheral, reminding Nom of honey and gold. How pretty the mage would look in his hoard.
Don’t go down that train of thought either. Fuck man, he hates his brain.
He hopes that his thoughts aren’t obvious as he thinks they are, especially when Scott brushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. Nom bites down on his cheek hard to prevent a shiver. Dear Knight God he’s pathetic. Maybe if he started talking he wouldn’t have to think of any of…this.
“Did you like the dandelion I got you?” Please say yes.
“Hm? Oh…” the mage’s voice is smaller, shy almost when he speaks, his hands stopping momentarily. “Uh, yes, I did. That’s—that’s actually the first time anyone’s ever given me flowers…” Scott says it hesitantly like confessing a secret. The dragon’s heart swells, his tail twitching behind him, happy to please.
“Really?”
“Mhm. Yeah, I guess most people don’t think to get the florist’s son flowers.”
“Huh.” It’s quite surprising to the brunette that no one’s thought to got such a pretty mage flowers. He deserves them after all. He deserves the world. Still, delight bursts in his chest, overjoyed to be the first. It’s painful to him to consider being anything but that. For Scott to have ever been with anyone. Shut up stupid brain. He’s not yours. He doesn’t even like you like that.
“Guess that means I’ll have to break that tradition even more.” His mouth is pretty stupid too, speaking before he gets a chance to think.
“Oh…oh—” the blonde stutters. Nom almost wants to turn around to see the pretty shade of pink that has likely fallen over Scott’s face. He stops himself, obviously, not wanting to ruin the flower crown. “Y-You don’t have to do that Nom…”
“I want to.” The knight doubles down, not letting himself feel self-conscious of his answer. He can only hope that the half-elf doesn’t find the answer disgusting or pushy, but he doubts that will happen, seeing as Scott doesn’t have a truly mean bone in his body. Unlike Nom.
“Oh… I—thank you”
“Of course, anything for you.” The words are not a lie. Recently, Nom has been staying up late to search for some of the elusive plants that Scott wanted, just simply because he mentioned them being hard for him to find. If the blonde stated he wanted the moon, the brunette would not be able to refuse his request. It was that bad. At least he’s somewhat self aware.
The mage stays silent after that, working furiously on the dragon’s hair, letting a comfortable silence fall over the two.
Nom has a beautiful view of the garden from where he’s sat on the grounds of the garden, watching the horizon slowly gain pastel shades of red, yellow, pink and orange, blue retreating from the sky. It’s really quite a sight. The knight hasn’t been to many places in the world, but never has he seen a sunset like the sunsets in the Blue Kingdom. Or sunrises either. Really, the whole place is just…breathtaking. Pride of his home drives deep in his bones. It wasn’t much merely a month ago, after the last battle, but, now? Well, it was a lot better, quite a few buildings having popped up in the space. Mostly 4c and Mae’s work.
Scott doesn’t announce when he’s done braiding the flowers into Nom’s hair. The only clue the brunette gets is when the half-elf tentatively rests his chin on Nom’s head, waiting anxiously once more to be told off by him. The dragon just leans into the touch, into the warmth. For once, he’s glad to have take his helmet off.
Nom isn’t typically a touchy-feely person, never one to instigate, and typically scurries away from Mae’s attempts at hugging him, but, gods, does this just feel right to him. A sigh of contentment passed through his lips, watching the sun slowly dip slowly into the skyline.
So, naturally, the moment has to get ruined.
“Oh, Nom, there you are.” The gruff voice of a particularly annoying lion states, and the blonde above him flinches away from the knight, who bites his tongue to stifle a groan.
The brunette turns his head around to find Owain about ten feet away from them, arms crossed while surely shooting him daggers with his eyes from under his helmet. How in the ever-loving parkour hell did he sneak up on the two with his heavy armor?
“What do you want?” The dragon says testily, just the appearance of the man rubbing his scales the wrong way, especially since this probably means cutting time short with his the mage.
“Is that a flower crown?” Nom watches Scott shrink into himself, likely thinking the brunette would be embarrassed. (Which he would if it was anyone but Scott who made it for him)
“Yes, what about it?”
“You—nothing. Anyways, the queen requests for your gold, and it’s time for your shift.” The knight rolls his eyes. Of course the lion asks for both of the things he’s useful (to Owain) for; his wealth and his guard duties.
He does not wait for Nom to verbally respond, “I will see you in five minutes at most.” The lion tromps off, leaving an irritated Nominal Gravy in his wake.
“Ugh, I hate that guy.” The dragon sighs before slumping back against the bench. To his disappointment, Scott does not rest his chin back onto his head, instead giggling at something Nom said. What exactly he’s laughing at, the knight is unsure.
The brunette tilts his head back to look at the mage, unable to contain the sharp intake of breath at the sight.
Nom has never quite been able to handle how the half-elf looks. While the kingdom may be beautiful, Scott is otherworldly in his beauty, gorgeous in every way that the dragon can never quite get used to. The falling sun graces the other’s face, dancing with his freckles, and highlighting his honey blonde hair to the point it looks like it’s glowing. Light pink dusts his cheeks, with a real, genuine smile lighting up his every feature. Scott’s bright green eyes shine with warmth and joy, gold speckles shimmering in their depths, reminding Nom of his new favorite gemstone, peridots. Precious and something to hold on to.
He’s going to be the death of Nom, and maybe the knight has accepted that.
“What are you giggling about?”
“You say hate funny. Like hæte” Scott does his best impression before beginning to laugh again. Gods, he’s adorable when he smiles like that. Nom can’t help but join him, chuckling as well. It’s infectious.
“Hey! You say certain words funny too! I’m not the only one with an accent!”
“True, but it’s enjoyable to pick fun at you.”
“Rude. You hate me and my accent, it’s confirmed.”
Scott slows his speech down for a moment, his tone softer. “No, I actually quite like your accent. Your face just gets red when I make fun of you, and that’s enjoyable to see.”
Nom was unaware of this until now, his face likely going redder, therefor turning his head back around and leaning against the bench once more. “You want me dead.” You’re going to kill me, went unspoken.
“No, I’d rather you stay living actually. Who else am I going to tease endlessly?” Nom does not have an answer to that, only a strange stirring feeling in his gut that was slowly getting more familiar as him and the blonde interact more. Like fireworks bursting inside of him. Or an ever burning fire that only holds a comforting heat and no malice.
Nom can’t tell if the sensation makes him sick or want more. Probably a little bit or both.
“Anyways, you have duties to do, and I’m sure a certain lion wouldn’t appreciate if you’re late.” The dragon groans. Why did the mage have to be so responsible?
“But I don’t wanna.” The knight whines, resting his jaw on the other’s knee, hoping that just blinking up at him with his big brown orbs would be enough.
Sadly, it ‘twas not.
“You have to.”
“Hmph. Please?”
“No, Nom, you have to help Owain and do your shift.”
“But he only wants me for my gold!”
“Which you have plenty of.”
“Scott…”
“Nom.”
“I don’t—”
“Nom, I swear I will knee you right now if you don’t help the damn lion.” Never has the knight scrambled to his feet so fast.
“Fine. You owe me a farkle game though.”
“Deal.”
So, the brunette walks away from the mage, towards where the lion will likely be, (and probably another lecture). Still, the upcoming dread of what’s to come hardly dims the spark in his stomach. Soon, he will see Scott again, and they will play farkle, and he will enjoy every second of it because he’s with the blonde. For now, he will take the flower crown as a reminder of that soon to be memory.
As a reminder of what’s waiting for him outside of the war.