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Around the time spring overtook the chill of winter, and the wind no longer bit at his skin, Mellow noticed Lugard becomes much more irritable than usual. It’s not like Mellow doesn’t know why, years have passed since his old slave, Patrick, had returned to his site of imprisonment just to establish himself as “Saint Patrick.” It didn’t help that the man had secured the establishment of “God” and “Jesus” among the rest, or at least the majority, of the Irish.
However, from the time Lugard and he had fled that fateful day, Mellow has long since shaken off the memory like old skin. But he knew the fight to prove the power of their owns Gods had undeniably left a bitter taste on Lugard’s tongue. Mellow imagines it would be nice if he had brushed it past just as easily, then they’d be able to live together without the looming existence of their failure hanging over them.
Still, Mellow understands the disappointment. And he wasn’t just going to lay back and wait for the storm to subside, he’d run into the storm head first if it meant Lugard would have another weight off of his shoulders.
“Lugard,” Mellow’s voice rumbled deeply, standing beside the man who seemed too intensely focused on a piece of parchment in front of him. Mellow received no response, even at he tapped the druid’s shoulder.
The ginger grumbled, his hand moving to the back of Lugard’s neck, the rough callous of his thumb brushing against the man’ skin. Lugard shifted at that, his head shifting to look at Mellow over his shoulder.
“Must you disturb me? Is it not clear that my attention is elsewhere?” Lugard snapped, his bratty demeanor seeming more evident than ever. That’s what bothered Mellow, not the attitude, but what caused it.
“Your attention is not entirely on your work,” Mellow murmurs, his voice a deep sigh as he leans closer towards Lugard, thumb pressing against Lugard’s pulse with curiosity.
“It is,” Lugard clicked his tongue. “My focus is on a much higher level than yours.”
The snippy demeanor only frustrated the larger man even more, his thumb more insistent, “Speak the truth, Lugard. We both understand the upcoming days and the memories that follow.”
Lugard stared and scowled at the implication, yet he made no move to push away Mellow’s hand.
Mellow takes that as confirmation, a sense of satisfaction showing in his expression as his hand slipped lower to Lugard’s waist, lifting the man from the chair in one smooth motion.
“When you sulk…it makes my job much harder,” Mellow’s tone took on a more teasing tone, a low chuckle leaving him as Lugard’s hand shot out, pushing away Mellow’s face from his. Reactions were good, reactions meant Lugard wasn’t entirely closed off his bratty bubble. “And what exactly is that job of yours, you brute?” Lugard spits out, his cheeks colored in a crimson hue only an eye trained in the sight of Lugard’s face would see.
Mellow tilted his head slightly, his mouth pressed against Lugard’s palm, a boyish grin pressed against the lines of Lugard’s fingers, “…caring for you.”
Lugard only sighed at him, but Mellow remember a much younger time when the man would seize, stammer and blush. The sight of Lugard’s eyes looking at him with mild embarrassment was no less as endearing as the past.
“You still act as foolish as our days as children,” Lugard utters, yet his shoulders had lowered, and the furrow in his brows only a simple crease. “My feelings on the matter of that...” Lugard paused. “…priest are merely temporary. As the days pass, I’ll be fine.”
Mellow’s smile grew, “My memory seems to differ.” He leaned closer, gently burying his face into Lugard’s cheek, their beards brushing against each other in a mix of ginger and white. “I can’t even remember how long ago it’s been since his arrival,” Mellow whispered more intimately, thumb brushing on Lugard’s jaw.
“…Four years and fifteen days,” Lugard conceded softly, his fingers tangling in Mellow’s hair. His gaze lingered a bit behind Mellow to a window outside, where spring had slowly begun to overtake the effects of winter. “That day was…” Lugard swallowed thickly. “My failure was publicized for all to see.”
“That day is in the past,” Mellow rumbled, his arm wrapping tighter against Lugard’s waist, lifting him and letting him rest against the table. His hands wandered slightly, brushing past Lugard’s thigh to rest on his knee, pressing in to start littering kisses along Lugard’s cheek and jaw. Despite Lugard’s efforts to remain unfazed, they were evidently futile as his muscled loosened.
Lugard exhaled through his teeth as those slightly chapped lips brushing against his skin. Yet, after a few moments, his cold fingers pushed Mellow back by his shoulder. “I have work to do, Mellow. Truthfully, this time,” Lugard spoke with an endeared murmur, his knee lifting to nudge Mellow against the back of his tunic. “And your distractions will one day push to become sour rather than your wish to seem appealing,” The druid muttered, the hypocrisy of his words becoming more evident by the brush of his wrinkled knuckles over Mellow’s neck. The push and pull left Mellow’s hands steady, neither proceeding nor abandoning their place on Lugard’s hips.
Eventually, the wizard grumbles and tugs Mellow closer. “Fool,” He chastised. “Carry me to bed. My work will wait due to your insistence.”
Mellow’s brain clicked, a smug grin appearing on his face faster than a snap. “Oh, of course. My druid, my Lugard, I hope my adamant demands of you don’t sully you too much,” The larger man cooed, arms moving to carry Lugard as he did before, the direction of his body moving towards the stairs of their quaint cabin.
“Such swift acceptance,” Mellow considered thoughtfully. “I say this must be caused by that four-leafed clover I found while scavenging this morning.”
Lugard exhaled sharply, a serene expression shifting on his aged eyes. “Mn, I… suppose.” Lugard laid his forehead against Mellow’s shoulders, his eyes flickering to the windows outside. A small realization dawns on the wizard, that if that Patrick had never come back, never beat him in the challenge, never forced them to leave, then Lugard would’ve never had this. Mellow had most certainly understood that faster than he, and Lugard was simultaneously jealous and feeling foolish he hadn’t realized it sooner.
Nevertheless, he has to concede he’s thankful for the life he lives now, and the support Mellow aids him despite the stubbornness that had never left him from his youth. Even if the life he lives now was caused by a man he will always despise.
Lugard smiled privately, his words hushed, “I figure that this time of year… brings upon that type of luck.”