last_adam | (no subject)

(no subject)

[After this.]

*It's still chilly out, but after Mordred left, Adam couldn't bring himself to come back in yet. He'd gone outside to practice, and he was going to finish his practice.

He's got years on you. Decades.

Advance, thrust, retreat, retreat, parry, advance.

You've barely started your own training.

Thrust, thrust, retreat, advance, thrust, retreat, parry.

He's a knight.

By the end of it, his feet ached, his muscles screamed, and he could feel every millimeter of fabric that scraped against the cut on his arm. But still, the embarrassment was there.

When he comes home, the fire's going, and he can see Alanna moving around in the bedroom, but it's the couch he ends up on. Sword propped up along the edge, he collapses, boneless, letting the heat of the fire wash over him.*

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*She kisses him, but is soon back to scowling, fingers carefully edging around the cut.*

Still.

*She shrugs.* I suppose. It would depend on the interview, naturally.

Of course. He-

I-

*Adam makes a face, as though it pains him to say it.*

I'd trust him, to watch your back.

*And then he really makes a face, when she pokes too hard at the cut.*

Hey.

Will you let me fix it?

*Alanna swallows, slowly pushing his sleeve aside.*

I thought you didn't get along. Mordred said it would give you a heart attack.

If you must.

*But it's a warm feeling that fills him at her concern.*

We don't, really. And it didn't give me a heart attack. Just-

maybe a bit of a palpitation.

Aye, I must.

*She frowns, gripping his hand and resting her other over his wound. Closing her eyes, she whispers a healing spell and struggles not to get distracted by other thoughts.*

You've never really let me do this before, you know.

*It's an odd sort of connection as her magic flows out of her to him, the air around their hands glowing with a faint violet light. Biting her lip, she nods and slowly lets go.*

So mote it be.

*Investigating his arm, she sighs.*

We had Anakin Skywalker on staff at one point. I can't imagine Mordred would be any more odd.

Not to other people, no.

*He closes his eyes as she works, and opens them again to look into hers with a smile.*

I know.

*She lifts her head and smiles a bit.*

Thank you.

*Sighing, she wraps her arms around him and rests her forehead on his shoulder.*

Of course, maybe someone should tell Mordred that leaving such marks on you doesn't exactly endear him to me.

*She giggles.*

It was just a sparring session. Such things happen.

*There's a whisper, there, though, a hint of something left unsaid.*

You will get better, Adam. For now just be pleased with how far you have come. Consider that in time, perhaps you'll leave marks of your own.

*She looks up at him.*

Right?

Right.

*Alanna smiles and kisses him.*

Good. I love you. Now, try to relax?

Yes, dear.

*His face shows the affection as he says it, and he holds her close, leaning into her.*

*She lightly swats the back of his head.*

Careful. Now that I'm not taking it easy on you, you'd best be nice.

*Adam laughs, and kisses her, a twinkle in his eye.*

Would you have preferred yes ma'am?

Sir.

*She grins impishly.*

Yes, Sir.

*Two can play at that game.*

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Permission requested to go to bed, sir. With my partner, sir.

*archly* Permission granted.

*She stands, offering him her hand.*

Assuming you don't fuss at said partner for her freezing feet.

*He grins as he stands and wraps his arms around her waist as he walks her backwards to the bedroom.*

I make no promises, sir.

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