Fic snippet: Questing
In this meme miakun said that I would never write "Arthur/Lancelot where they're like one a QUEST together and there's mansex." So I did.
”Sire,” says Lancelot quietly, and Arthur glares at him. They haven’t seen another human being for two days. It’s not like Lancelot needs to use a title to get his attention - Arthur will know that whatever he says is directed at him anyway.
“I believe we’ve lost the trail. There’s been nothing for a good while now. Maybe if we went back…”
Arthur thinks that Lancelot is almost as bad as Merlin. Almost. He says nothing, though, because the first ten times he called Lancelot an incompetent idiot it took hours before he stopped apologizing. And Arthur is tired. His mind feels almost as numb as the soles of his feet.
“At the last stream,” he snaps and stalks away, not waiting for Lancelot to catch up.
They do find the track again, and the place where they lost it last time around. Lancelot’s strides are careful, controlled, but his tiredness shows. Arthur wishes he’d just fall asleep so he could get rid of some of his frustration by waking him with a bucket of water on his face - like he would Merlin, but Arthur isn’t thinking about Merlin. He isn’t.
They make camp when darkness starts to fall. Arthur wants to press on, feels the trail growing cold and time slipping away to quickly, but they can’t afford to get lost in the darkness. Lancelot builds a fire and talks, and talks; about the ladies of the court, about the men of war and how there should be more honour… and he might have a point or two, all right, but Arthur’s brain is about to dribble out his ears.
“Come over here,” he says and Lancelot pokes at the fire once more before stepping up to the tree Arthur is leaning against. Arthur grabs him by the hip and hauls him in. Lancelot protests as Arthur starts undoing the laces of his trousers, but when Arthur gets a hand in he makes a sound of wonder, and then he is thankfully less verbose.
Arthur is rather pleasantly distracted, too.
”Sire,” says Lancelot quietly, and Arthur glares at him. They haven’t seen another human being for two days. It’s not like Lancelot needs to use a title to get his attention - Arthur will know that whatever he says is directed at him anyway.
“I believe we’ve lost the trail. There’s been nothing for a good while now. Maybe if we went back…”
Arthur thinks that Lancelot is almost as bad as Merlin. Almost. He says nothing, though, because the first ten times he called Lancelot an incompetent idiot it took hours before he stopped apologizing. And Arthur is tired. His mind feels almost as numb as the soles of his feet.
“At the last stream,” he snaps and stalks away, not waiting for Lancelot to catch up.
They do find the track again, and the place where they lost it last time around. Lancelot’s strides are careful, controlled, but his tiredness shows. Arthur wishes he’d just fall asleep so he could get rid of some of his frustration by waking him with a bucket of water on his face - like he would Merlin, but Arthur isn’t thinking about Merlin. He isn’t.
They make camp when darkness starts to fall. Arthur wants to press on, feels the trail growing cold and time slipping away to quickly, but they can’t afford to get lost in the darkness. Lancelot builds a fire and talks, and talks; about the ladies of the court, about the men of war and how there should be more honour… and he might have a point or two, all right, but Arthur’s brain is about to dribble out his ears.
“Come over here,” he says and Lancelot pokes at the fire once more before stepping up to the tree Arthur is leaning against. Arthur grabs him by the hip and hauls him in. Lancelot protests as Arthur starts undoing the laces of his trousers, but when Arthur gets a hand in he makes a sound of wonder, and then he is thankfully less verbose.
Arthur is rather pleasantly distracted, too.