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Not-So-Innocent

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Tristan wanted to bash his head into the wall until he stopped thinking. Gawain’s little brother had come to live with him, and Gawain knew his friend all too well. A week before the kid had come up Gawain had cornered Tristan and described in excruciating detail exactly how he’d lose his genitals should he even look at Galahad too closely.

Tristan liked them a bit younger, so what? His friends were a little weirded out about it, but since Lancelot tended to be far creepier than him when it came to romance they mostly let him be. Galahad was the exception, however. Gawain hadn’t even let Tristan see him yet. Granted, part of that was their busy schedules and the fact that Galahad was usually working when the rest of “Arthur’s knights” (a nickname their group had gained in freshman year and never shaken off) got together. It still irked, however - Tristan wasn’t nearly so crass as to try and steal Gawain’s little brother like Lancelot had stolen Arthur’s girlfriend last year.

So here he was, alone in a coffee shop to see him through finishing his essay instead of at Gawain’s place, and trying not to be angry.

And then his coffee came, and Tristan promptly forgot why he was mad.

“One straight Colombian and a plain bagel,” the angel announced as he set the aforementioned items down. He had chocolate curls perfectly adorning his beautiful face, the beginnings of a beard hiding his red lips and framing eyes as blue as the most beautiful sky.

His week was looking up. “Not quite so straight, actually,” he commented, taking the coffee in hand.

Thankfully, the angel just laughed - as compelling a picture as the most perfect ancient wood carving - and didn’t look as awkward as most people when confronted with Tristan’s odd humor.

“Thank god,” the pale brunette replied with a wink. “I was hoping so. Gonna still be here at eleven?”

Five hours? He could make the paper be done by then. “I couldn’t leave if you asked me.”

“I look forward to it, handsome,” the younger man replied before sauntering off to deliver more coffees.

Tristan savored the taste of victory to come (haha - that was a good one) before hunkering down to finish the paper. His entire grade in Ancient Warfare hinged on this paper, but after the week he’d had he wouldn’t regret tanking his grade for a night with an angel. Besides, he’d at least get a B on it - he should be fine.

It still took a bit of rushing to be finished in time, but Tristan put on the last sentence of his conclusion with a flourish and triumphant smile just as the clock hit eleven. He saved it and started to pack up, thankful the employees hadn’t kicked him out yet considering eleven was their closing time.

The angel walked over then, tired and in a bit more disarray than before but still looking delectable.

Tristan found himself asking something he normally never did. “If you’re tired we can do this another time.”

The smile he got in return was worth the sentiment. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m good,” he replied. “This is exactly what I need after the week I’ve had.”

Tristan leaned in, excitement racing through his veins. “And what exactly is “this”?”

The younger man leaned in, all sinful lines as he leaned in to whisper in Tristan’s ear, “This is you taking me to your home where I will ride you till you scream.”

That sounded perfectly fine to Tristan. He smiled back and whispered, “Understood.” Then, with a hand around the delectable man’s waist, he led him out to do just that.

 

The morning brought a loud knocking on his door and a warm body under his. Tristan growled and burrowed further into the warmth under him, which hummed
and snuggled closer in response. It was nice, a perfect morning to follow a wonderful night.

If the people banging on his door demanding he go with them to grab waffles would go away already, that was.

Tristan opened his mouth to suggest just that, but the body beneath him beat him to it. “Go the fuck away already! We’re tryin’ to sleep here!”

There was a pause of blessed silence, and then the door slammed open.

Tristan had a single moment to be angry at the shocked Gawain in his doorway before the man crushed his buzz with a single scandalized word: “Galahad?!”

Shit.

The body beneath him rolled away and sat up. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” the now-named younger man shot back. “Can’t I go anywhere without you showing up to defend my honor? What the hell Gawain!”

“Me?” Gawain retorted. “You slept with Tristan! After I warned you about him!”

Galahad opened his mouth, paused, and turned to face Tristan. “Is that your name?”

Tristan sighed and barely resisted throwing an arm over his face. “And apparently you’re Galahad.”

Gawain looked shocked at the both of them even as Bors and Lancelot (who were both Tristan’s roommates and thus explained Gawain’s sudden presence in his house) nearly fell over laughing before he exploded. “You’re going home to sleep with strange men without knowing their names?”

“Well if you’d stop cock-blocking me at every opportunity I wouldn’t have to!” Galahad retorted. “You’ve scared off everyone I try to bring home - that last guy asked if I needed help escaping an abusive partner!”

“If you weren’t so easily seduced -” Gawain tried to reply, but Galahad cut him off with a derisive snort.

“I asked him out,” Galahad stated. “Furthermore I suggested the place and I rode him - so back the fuck off already. I’m not twelve anymore, sheesh!”

Looking shocked beyond all reason, Gawain looked to Tristan for confirmation. Thankfully, he didn’t even have to lie as he nodded in answer. Gawain paled a bit and turned to go sit down.

Lancelot stuck his head in then, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Get dressed and you can tell the others just how badly Gawain’s plan backfired over waffles.”

“Shut the door,” Tristan countered. Mercifully, they did.

Lips were on his, and Tristan only had time to grin into the kiss before they were gone. “Thanks for not freaking out on me,” Galahad stated, smiling a smile that would probably be the death of him.

“Thanks for not letting your brother pull my balls off through my intestines,” Tristan countered.

The smile turned wicked. “Of course not - couldn’t see if I could fit them both in my mouth if he did that.”

Tristan watched the minx roll out of bed to find his pants and decided that yes, this one would most certainly be the death of him. He was alright with that.
It certainly made a great story, as they regaled the rest of the “knights” over waffles. Bors was particularly happy to delve into just how not innocent Galahad was, and Galahad took delight in shocking his brother with all the terribly dirty things he’d done.

Tristan felt the younger man leaning against him during the meal, their legs and sides pressed together in the booth, saw how his shirt sat slightly larger on Galahad’s creamy shoulders, and felt a warmth settle into his bones that the others would most certainly tease him for.

It seemed his bachelor days were over - Gawain better learn to fucking deal with it.