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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 2 months

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Village: knight!price x princess!reader

A little longer than intended but hope you guys enjoy

"Pardon?"

“I want to go to the village and you’ll be taking me there today.”

Sir John Price blinked owlishly at you. You rarely ever went to the village unless it was for a procession or to speak on behalf of the Queen, and the fact that you asked him instead of taking off on your own caught him off guard as well.

Especially because you met him in the stables wearing a cloak.

He glanced down at the wicker basket with a blanket in your hands before he met your expectant eyes and he sucked in his lips.

"If that's what you wish." He pulled your horse out of the stable and then his.

"It is." You flipped your hood over your head and held out the basket for him to take. "Make sure to tie this securely."

Before long Price walked close behind you as you led the way towards the market. He raised an eyebrow, both because he didn’t understand what you were doing but also because it seemed you weren’t trying to stand out.

“Is there a reason why we’re going to the market, your highness?” He wondered and you gestured for him to keep his voice down. “And why you’re acting inconspicuous?”

“You’ll see.” You told him with a small smile. “And I don’t want much attention today.”

Price hummed and couldn’t help but notice that some of the villagers stared at you both with confusion before recognition spread across their faces, their voices going hushed as they stared at you.

“I doubt you can escape the eyes of your people, your highness.” He mumbled and you frown.

“It’s because of you.” You huffed and he raised an eyebrow. “You stand out, everyone knows you, and knows that I’m around where you are.”

“You asked me to escort you.”

“Because you would’ve made a bigger scene trying to catch up to me.”

You were right and he knew that. Though he found it almost comical that you thought everyone was looking at him rather than you, especially when a few villagers stopped what they were doing to stare.

Price took it upon himself, however, to make sure that none of them interrupted you with a polite nod and smile towards them.

When you made it to the market, you immediately began to peruse the stalls. Fresh produce and other items were laid out in front of you as you began to look for the best out of them.

“I thought the servants had recently bought food for the castle.” Price wondered as you studied the fruit in front of you.

“I wanted something fresher and I was bored.” You shrugged and he scoffed.

He watched you pick out the fruits you wanted and deny the peasant who said you didn’t have to pay. He watched the joy spread across his face when you gave him extra coins for the food before you walked to the next stall with the basket in the crook of your arm.

Price slipped it off your arm and carried it without a second thought. He pointedly stared at the vegetables on the stall as your eyes widened..

“You never answered my question.” He grunted to change the subject. “Why are we here?”

“It’s a surprise. Learn to have a little fun, Sir John.” You chided him when his face fell into a scowl.

“A surprise from you could mean anything, good or bad.”

“Would I ever surprise you with something bad?”

Price gave you a look and the corners of your lips twitched upward. He let out a sigh when you chuckled and prepared for the worst as he continued to follow you.

“It’s a good surprise, you’ll like it.” You assured him.

“I’ll believe you when you tell me.” He grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

“Have you ever met a knight so stubborn?” You joked with a peasant who couldn’t hold in her amusement which made Price scowl even more.

“No, your highness, but that’s what makes him the best.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Price felt his cheeks warm and he clutched the basket a little tighter. He quickly shooed you away from the stall before he embarrassed himself further.

He watched you navigate the market and couldn’t help but think about what you had said the night before the king had been sent away.

Despite his past reservations about you, he knew how the village and your people felt about you. They loved you, adored you, and though they spoke about your lack of engagements or about you not having produced an heir yet, you were still in their good graces. And it was especially true as you treated them kindly and paid them extra for the food you bought from them today.

You thought you were worthless, a failure because of those around you. Because of him…

It plagued his mind and weighed heavy in his stomach. He didn’t like knowing that he had made you feel that way, that he had hurt you.

He hoped you still didn’t think that way about yourself now.

“Your highness,” he began and you hummed for him to continue as the two of you walked back to the horses. “Is what you said that night true?”

You paused and your face fell. You averted your eyes from him as you nervously threaded your fingers together in front of you.

“I had hoped you’d forgotten about that.” You licked your lips. “But…yes. It think about it too often, I fear.”

“I never realized the lords and princes made you feel that way.” A seed of anger bubbled in his stomach.

“How could you? It doesn’t concern you, do I don’t blame you for that.”

��It concerns me because ‘I’ve done the same.”

Your eyes widened and you stared at him with surprise while he found it hard to look at you.

Shame settled within him but he forced himself to push past it. He couldn’t allow it to stop him from making things right and though he was stubborn he could admit when he was wrong or when he had wronged someone.

“I don’t think lowly of you, your highness.” He began softly as he stared deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been kind to you and it’s hurt you in a way that I wish I could take back. I won’t ask you to forgive me but I can’t allow you to believe that I would think you a failure.”

You couldn’t help the absolute shock on your face as you slowly became more and more flustered as you stared at each other.

He found himself getting flustered as well the longer you stared at him. It was hard being underneath your gaze and when you looked away it was as if he simultaneously could and couldn’t breathe.

“I-I’m sorry your words caught me off guard.” You placed your hands over your heart and let out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s the truth, your highness.” Price stated firmly and you nodded.

“I know.”

He felt a little relieved but still the guilt stayed inside him. He knew it would be a little while before he finally found the courage to let it go.

The silence between the both of you was thick and awkward but you quickly tried to defuse it with a smile that made him nervously suck in his lips.

“You’re very sincere for a knight.” You pointed out and he scoffed.

“I follow a code.” He said and you raised an amused eyebrow as you snorted.

“Do you now? What does it say about being ornery all the time.”

“Unfortunately I can’t change that about myself.. I can hardly lessen it as it is.”

You giggled and he couldn’t help but chuckle as well. You began to walk towards the horses again and he walked beside you.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who else would entertain me with banter?”

“Many of the lords and princes of you ask them to.”

You groaned softly and rolled your eyes in a playful manner while you absentmindedly waved the thought away.

“Dreadful isn’t it?” You said and he smiled. “I could tell them to wear a bucket on their head and they would.”

He wasn’t going to deny any of that to you. He had seen so many lords and princes make fools of themselves to get your attention and to please you.

Price has made a fool of himself because of you as well.

“I’m glad I can entertain you, your highness.” Price teased as you made it to the horses.

He tied the basket to the saddle and prepared to help you onto your horse only to be met with you giving him an inquisitive look that made him narrow his eyes.

“Would you wear a bucket on your head if I asked?” You wondered and he puffed out a laugh.

“And subject myself to a life of torment?” He avoided looking at as he checked your saddle.

“But would you?”

Price cleared his throat and gestured to the basket as he gave you an expectant look this time.

“Are you going to tell me what the surprise is or do I have to guess?” He changed the subject and hoped you would as well, which you did.

“It’s a picnic.” You smiled proudly and allowed him to help you onto your horse, his hand tingling from your warmth. “One you will be join game on not only as my protector but as my friend. Call it a peace offering.”

Price wouldn’t deny that the idea made him feel lighter and when he thought about it he couldn’t help but feel his heart race just a little faster.

But he knew how improper it would be if he joined you in a way that was any less than him protecting you, how it might seriously hurt your reputation and how it might cost him more than his title.

“If someone sees…” he began but you shook your head.

“That’s why we’ll be dinning in the forest.” You explained and though it didn’t ease his worries, he knew you were already set on the idea.

Stubborn.

“Now, we must get going or we’ll miss lunch.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

A/n: the answer is he would

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @rmikaelson01 @panikk-attackkk @sofasoap

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #call of duty #princess!reader

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greatstormcat · 3 months

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Into the Fire

TF141 x f!reader Medieval AU

Part 3

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, nudity, voyeurism

AN: apologies for my Google translate Scots Gaelic, not entirely happy with this update but here we go…

Your mind reels with the revelation, this was Lord Price and his closest Knights. You’d heard stories over the years, but had always assumed it was fiction to keep old men amused in their cups in the tavern. Clearly, the nagging thought in your brain had been trying to get you to piece this together. Now you understand just how serious this situation was, you were tied by a blood debt to one of the most skilled and deadly Knights in the known world.

Simon slides from his saddle and opens one of his packs, pulling out a carefully folded square of material and several long poles. As you watch he connects the poles, snapping them together somehow, and then unfurls the material to reveal the same banner you saw before with the bear emblazoned across a deep blue background. The banner is attached to the pole and lifted aloft once he is back into his saddle.

“Let's go home boys,” Price sighs, and turns to MacTavish. “Let them know we’re coming.” The Highlander grins and lifts a horn that is attached to his belt, giving it a blow that sends a deep, rolling call across the land. The effect is instant, you see the people in the town pause in what they are doing, looking up towards the hill. There’s no doubt the note was heard as far away as the island, and an answering blast comes from somewhere down below.

Price has already begun the descent towards the town, and Simon rides beside him carrying the banner, snapping sharply in the sea breeze. The four men ride taller, straighter as they near the town gate, even the horses seem to know where they are home and step with vigour, hooves sparking on the cobbles as they clatter along. People gather quickly, drawn by the horn blast, first one or two rushing from what they were doing in outlying buildings and fields to wave and watch the passing troop.

As you pass through the gate, a dozen guards in shining chainmail and helmets march towards you, behind what must be their commander on his own horse who salutes Price with his sword. They carry halberds and wear pale blue tabards with Price’s bear emblem proudly displayed on their chests, and form a line either side of the horses, keeping the crowds back to allow you to pass through unhindered.

The noise grows as more and more people crowd the street, packing together but held back thanks to your escort, cheering and yelling a welcome to their Lord and his knights. The beat of hooves and tramp of feet becomes a steady heartbeat under the constant roar, the jingling of harnesses and armour a counter melody. MacTavish and Kyle smile and acknowledge the adoration, clearly soaking it up and enjoying the attention. Simon, face covered by his skull-fronted helm and his spine straight, keeps his eyes alert looking for signs of danger and generally ignoring the fuss as though the throng of people isn’t even there. Price acts every part the Lord, his bearded face softened by the adoration of his subjects but still maintaining his air of something.

It isn’t hard to spot the intrigued looks and whispered conversations that you draw, perched between Kyle’s thighs as you are. There is no mistaking you for nobility, with your burnt hair and simple clothing, and more than once you catch an open look of envy and hostility from the crowd. The noise becomes a living thing, following your procession towards the distant island as you move down the main street of the town. Flowers begin to be thrown by the mass of people, still calling out their love and adoration.

At the shoreline a small troop of guards stand by the start of the causeway, halberds held at their sides and ready to close the way behind their Lord once he passes by. Peace descends once more as your ride out onto the causeway towards the island, the gentle lapping of the waves against the stones strangely peaceful and calming. Gulls call along the shore, and you try to keep your composure as the huge edifice of the castle grows in front of you.

“That was… something,” you admit quietly to Kyle, and you feel him relax a little behind you once more.

“You get used to it,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as though it's something that happens every day and is rather dull. “Price is good to his people, and they’re good to him in return.”

“It shows,” you agree, “but why didn’t he tell me who he is?”

“Guess he enjoyed a little bit of anonymity for a while,” Kyle muses. “You would have freaked out if you knew, probably would’ve been kneeling in the mud and making more of a mess of yourself than you already were.”

“I thought knights were meant to be chivalrous and full of manners?” you hiss indignantly. “You’re an absolute…” you stop yourself before you finish your sentence, and tense as he leans closer to your ear.

“One more word and I’ll throw you into the sea. Then you can walk the rest of the way dripping wet,” he growls, forcing you into sullen silence. You try to ignore the prickle of your skin where his breath gently touches.

The crowd that greets you at the other end of the causeway is smaller, but no less ecstatic. If the majesty of the walled city had taken your breath away, the approach to the castle on its island was like walking into another world entirely. The closer you get, the bigger it looms over you. The steep and winding road up to the gatehouse would have winded you if you had to walk it, so for once you are grateful for the horse beneath you.

The walls rise straight up from the rocky heart of the island, the battlements and towers high above you. The main gate is protected by an enormous, spiked portcullis, held up on chains thicker than your own body, and riding beneath it is quite unnerving. The courtyard beyond is lined with more guards and ranks of servants and staff.

A woman waits for them at the wide steps by the grand doors, her braided, pale blonde hair coiled on top of her head and a serious expression on her face. She wears a pale blue dress which shifts in the sea breeze, with a white scarf wrapped around her neck. Her face warms from a concerned frown as she looks over the four horsemen, and then her eyes land on you and she raises her eyebrows.

“Good to see you all back in one piece, My Lord,” she greets Price as he swings down from his saddle, and he pats her shoulder fondly. “Who is this?” she asks, looking at you with sharp, intelligent eyes as you dismount with Kyle.

“We picked up a new healer on the way back. Saved you a job,” Price grins, and the woman gives you an appraising look. Her eyes are bore into you, and you feel as though she is someone who knows everything about you just from one glance. “She’s got herself a blood debt to Kyle, so she’s his problem for the time being, but I’m sure he will be amenable.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Kyle tugs your arm past the blonde woman who watches you with interest.

“Not the time or place,” he mutters, dragging you stumbling up the steps and into the keep.

“Where are we going?” you exclaim.

“Sir Kyle,” you hear Laswell call out, and he pauses in the doorway. “Maybe I should take her with me? I can help her get cleaned up and find her some quarters, while you tend to your own needs.” Her voice is calm, but with an underlying hint of authority to it. It’s jarring hearing someone address him by rank for the first time. Kyle’s fingers tighten around your arm to the point of pain, as though the thought of letting you out of his sight is unbearable.

“Garrick, let her go,” Price utters the warning, seeing his hesitation, and you feel his fingers relax slowly, as though taking a huge amount of willpower.

“Fine,” Kyle relents, and with a dark look at Laswell, he stalks into the keep alone. The woman moves quietly over beside you, lightly touching your elbow.

“Come with me,” she says quietly, and you follow her blindly, glad for a calmer presence.

“I’m the Earl’s Steward, Kate Laswell,” she introduces herself as you follow her through the stone corridors of the castle. “I take care of the day to day running of his affairs, so if there’s anything you need you come to me.”

“Can you help me escape?” you ask her bluntly, deciding it’s easiest just to make it clear you are here against your will. She lets out a sigh.

“Do you have somewhere to go back to?”

You press your lips together firmly, you don’t and you know that. If you return to the village the priests would find out and finish off what they started, and roaming the countryside alone was also certain death. Your silence answers for you.

“Well, surely you’re better off here then?” Laswell suggests.

“It’s not what I wanted though,” he reply, hating how petulant you sound.

“The gods don’t often care what we want, they tend do send us where they prefer us to go,” she says with that same tone. As you talk she leads you further into the castle and down a spiralling staircase. For a moment you feel uncomfortable, as though she is taking you to the dungeons to lock you up forever. Eventually you stop before an oak door that looks like all the rest, and you expect to see torture devices and iron bars when she opens it.

“Let’s start by getting you cleaned up, then we can see about somewhere for you to stay,” he says kindly, pushing the door open and walking through. You followed after, hearing splashing water and finding yourself in a low, warm room. A large round tub, like the bottom half of a barrel stands against the wall, rimmed with pale fabric.

A carved, wooden screen stands behind the tub to give you privacy from an archway into another area and voices echo from behind it, along with the sound of water.

“This is our bath house, it’s open to everyone in the castle but you’ll have to share normally. This private alcove is for higher ranking household members only, but I’m happy to let you use it for today, to give you some space.” Laswell leaves you alone, and you run your fingertips through the water, shuddering at the heat and promise of being clean. Quickly, you strip naked and gingerly climb in.

You ease down into the steam tub, hissing softly at the water makes your skin tingle, and the red raw patches of burns sting. The aching from being in the saddle dulls as you sit down, the water lapping around the tops of your breasts gently. Leaning back against the linen wadding at the side, you allow yourself to relax for the first time in forever. Grabbing a small bar of soap from a stool beside the bath, you eagerly scrub your skin and hair, letting the dirt float away from you. Once you are clean to the point of needing new skin, you relax and soak in the water.

Deep voices pull you out of your reverie, their familiarity instantly identifying them, and you stop moving to listen.

“…and you don’t think you’re taking this too far?” you hear Simon’s deep voice coming from behind the screen. The urge to crouch further into the tub and hide washes over you, and you sink lower into the steaming water.

“Why? It’s a blood debt, you know what that means.” Kyle’s voice sounds irritated, exhausted even, as though this conversation has been going on for a while and he wants to be done with it.

“It’s clearly more than that, you’re practically…” MacTavish adds, before a loud splashing sound drowns his words out.

“For fucks sake Johnny!” Simon snaps angrily.

“Ach, shut up and get in ya big daftie,” comes the chuckled reply mixed with the gentle trickling of water.

“I’m not obsessed with her, she’s just… different…” you hear Kyle grumbling, his words getting quieter and you struggle to hear him. Against your better judgement you kneel up, leaning over the edge of the bath closer to the screen, desperate to hear what he is saying about you. The noise of your heart thumping interferes, and you try to calm your unexpected excitement. You shouldn’t care what he thinks about you, but you can’t help it.

You find a small gap in between the wood planks, a tiny slither of light coming through giving you just enough room to see through. You can see Simon and MacTavish in one tub together, Simon’s back resting against the other’s chest. Kyle is still standing beside another tub, his back turned towards you, and naked. The steam in the room has settled onto his skin, making it shimmer, picking out his muscles. You feel yourself warm in a way that has nothing to do with the water around you, and your breath catches in your throat as you watch him climb into the bath, bending over as he does so.

“Different?” Simon chuckles, sounding much more content now. “You mean she isn’t afraid to tell you to f…”

“Am I interrupting?” Laswell asks you and you flinch violently, water sloshing around you as you turn to face her. She entered so quietly you didn’t hear her, or you were so busy eavesdropping you missed the sound of her walking up to the tub. Your face heats with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I was just…” you flounder as you try to find a lie to cover yourself.

“Don’t worry, I of all people can’t get mad at you for spying on anyone.” She laughs, a cryptic smile on her face and holds up a towel. “Come on, I have a room for you. Let them finish their conversation in private for now.”

Laswell waits for you to dry and dress again, before leading you though the labyrinth of corridors to the upper levels of the castle. The views from the small windows in the deep slits are stunning, moonlight slipping over the sea and the whitewashed houses glow with it in the distance. Golden light from lanterns and candles glow in the windows, adding warmth to the pale scene, and the sea sparkles, now covering the causeway and cutting you off from land.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Laswell says over your shoulder, catching you staring.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you sigh in awe.

“Would you rather be back where you were before?” she asks bluntly, and you turn to see her smiling, her arms crossed under her bosom.

“Not really, I guess it’s all just a huge transition,” you admit finally. “My life ended back there even though Kyle pulled me from the fire, I just don’t know what my new one holds for me yet.”

“It’ll work out alright, there’s obviously something at work here and this is where you’re meant to be,” she says, guiding you towards an oak door nearby. She opens it and a bedroom lies beyond, the walls panelled in dark wood, and the stone floor strewn with rugs and sheepskins. A canopied bed is against one wall, a table and chairs in the middle of the room, and a pair of padded chairs are set before the fire. Tapestries hang in the walls, and Price’s coat of arms is proudly carved into the pale stone above the hearth.

“This is too much,” you gasp and Laswell urges you forward.

“No, it’s not but I have a proposition for you if it helps ease your mind.”

You walk slowly around the room, touching the intricately carved posts of the bed.

“Anything,” you answer earnestly.

“We need a healer,” she explains. “The reason one didn’t go with the Earl to battle is that our previous healer passed away over the winter. Price wants you to try and fill his shoes. You’ll be on a trial, to prove yourself, but it’s yours if you want the position.”

“I’ll do it,” you reply without hesitation.

“Good,” the Steward nods. “I will have someone bring you some food, and some fresh clothes. Tomorrow you stay here and rest, I will keep Sir Kyle occupied and out of your way. In the evening there will be a feast to welcome them all home, and I’ll have someone come and help you get ready and join us.”

You sleep better, the bed is soft and comfortable, but dreams of shadows chasing you through the castle wake you before the sunrise, and sit in on the deep sill of the window to watch the dawn break over the sea. Good to her word Laswell makes sure you have space to yourself for the day, and you explore around the nearest corridors a little, making sure not to get lost. You return to your room to find a heavy trunk by your bed, which you open and find a variety of clothes, hair brushes, shoes and boots.

Later in the day, a young maid appears at your door to help you get ready for the feast. She teases the knots from your hair and cuts away the burnt sections, before helping you into a gown and slippers that Laswell and arranged for you.

The hall is packed, musicians play and more food than you had ever imagined in your life fills the long table in the middle of the hall. Price sits at its head, a goblet held in his hand already, Laswell to one side and Simon on the other. The knight has forgone his mask now, and you only know it is him as he is the biggest man in the room, and wearing a black doublet. Beside him MacTavish drinks deeply from his tankard, his face flushed.

You hesitate for a moment, watching Kyle from behind the screen of bodies as he sits at the table with the others, idly swilling his tankard. He is listening to something a blonde man with a bushy moustache is saying, a smile on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he listens to him and his lady companion.

After a moment you gather your nerve and smooth the front of the gown, then walk through the crowd. As soon as Kyle sees you he gets up and strides through the assembled guests, the light returning to his eyes. His long legs quickly cover the distance between you, his leather breeches hugging his thighs, and his white shirt hangs open showing a large amount of hard chest. You swallow impulsively as he bares down on you.

“You took your time,” he says by way of greeting, but with a genuine smile. His hand grips the back of your neck and you stiffen, irritation bubbling but an idea occurs to you.

“Well, I’m here now so it doesn’t matter,” you reply and take hold of his wrist, pulling his hand down and linking your arm with his. His eyes narrow for a moment, and then his expression softens and he pulls your arm against his side before walking you towards the table.

“This is Sir Alex and Commander Farim,” he introduces the couple, and you nod politely to them.

“Sir Kyle tells us he pulled you from a witch burning,” Commander Karim says, her accent rich and lyrical. Her outfit is rich with gold thread, and she carries herself with grace and strength. Her long, dark hair is plaited and draped over her shoulder. “In my homeland we would call you a phoenix, and you’d be very important,” she smiles, her striking features beautiful.

“Yeah, ‘round these parts they don’t like that kinda stuff,” Sir Alex says with a raised eyebrow.

“There she is!” MacTavish shouts and barges between the two, pulling you into a bear hug before letting you go. Your eyes widen slightly as you take in his attire, a blue tartan kilt and knee length boots, and a white shirt that is barely laced at the collar.

“Kyle’s been stressin’ about you all day. I swear he was gonna turn the place upside down when Laswell refused to tell him where she’d hidden you!”

“MacTavish, why don’t you sit down before you fall down,” Kyle groans and guides you to the table, getting you to sit beside him. Kyle keeps you close as speeches are made, mead drunk and a great shared.

As the festivities wear on MacTavish gets more drunk and louder, taking on the role of storyteller as he regales everyone with tales of their battles and victories. He lapses into Gaelic at times, and Simon nudges more than once reminding him to speak to English. Price catches your eye and beckons you over, Kyle watching you keenly as you do.

“You settled in okay, love?” Price asks you, leaning on the arm of his seat.

“Yes… my Lord,” you add quickly, and he shakes his head at you with a grin.

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you. “I purposely didn’t tell you who I was. Guess I wanted to see what it would be like.”

“I thought you were Hedge Knights,” you laugh. “I didn’t dream you owned a castle!” He laughs with you, his smile infectious.

“I’ve got several castles,” he answered. “This one’s just my favourite. Cities get on my nerves, too many people. When the tide comes in you can only get here by boat, and then only if Nik lets you into his harbour.”

The guests begin to disperse and find their beds as the midnight watch bell rings, and you yawn leaning against him sleepily. By now he has you sat on his lap, his fingers gently stroking at your arm, as MacTavish slumps over the table.

Simon, using his great strength, hauls him to his feet, and Price tells him to get him to bed. Kyle gently slides you from his lap to help, and you follow them from the hall and up the twisting stairs to the sleeping chambers.

“Simon, tha feum agam ort tilg mo chabair,” MacTavish groans as he leans on Simon, and you see the larger man’s head drop for a moment as though holding back a laugh, but you have no idea what is being said. “Please, mo ghràdh, I’m hurtin’ bad,” the Highlander begs him.

“Shut up, let’s get you to bed,” Simon mutters, trying to hide a smile, and MacTavish perks up considerably at his words. The two stumble away from Kyle and you, the slurred singing of MacTavish echoing around you. You walk with Kyle to the door to your room and he chuckles as you stand before your door.

“My chambers are just down there,” Kyle points down the darkened corridor. “I should have known Kate wouldn’t have put you too far away. If you need anything you come and get me, understand?” His words still sound like an order, but they lack the harshness you’ve come to expect from him. For a moment his eyes search your face, and you feel yourself hold your breath while you wait for him to say or do something. His hand comes up the cup your face, and he brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, and for a brief moment you think he is about to kiss you. He lets out a frustrated sigh and steps back, a dark look in his eyes.

“Good night,” he mutters and walks away to his own door, closing it firmly behind him.

——————————————————

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