Ranger's Apprentice: The Tantalizing Tales

Fire and ice

In which Will and Alyss tuck their hands beneath the other person's shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin. Requested by @Maeve_Lynn. 

~~~

It was his favourite part of being a Ranger, Will thought. Coming home.

He and Halt ride over the path that leads to the small cabin in the woods. They arrive at the stables at the back of the cabin, prioritising their horses' wellbeing as they always do.

Will slides off of Tug and it's the clumsiest Halt has ever seen him dismount. Over the back of Abelard, he catches his former apprentice's eye.

"You really need stitches, Will," the older Ranger states.

The younger Ranger grins at him and looks down at his side, as if he can see through the several layers of fabric.

"Dunno, Halt. I think it's already started healing."

When he slips Tug's saddle off his back, however, and is confronted with a stretching movement to carry something heavy, the grin turns into a grimace, even if he tries to hide it.

Halt shrugs and continues to rub Abelard's fur dry with some hay. Inside the cabin, he knows, is someone a lot more suited to convince the young Ranger otherwise. She's usually a lot more successful, too.

The two Rangers continue to ensure the comfortability of their faithful companions. For the two ponies, too, these missions can be demanding. After several days of standing outside, in the ever colder air, the warmth of the stables is a welcome change. The hay on the ground is clean and dry, the water fresh and pure, the grain nice and tasty. But it's the apples, of course, that are received with the most enthusiasm. Each horse gets one, or no, they both get two, an earned delight after a mission well-completed. Their furs are rubbed dry, their saddles cleaned and put away, their halters taken off and stashed away.

Finally assured of their horses' contentment, the two Rangers leave the stables and make their way onto the verandah. They enter the cabin and are greeted by the sight of two women wearing simple but elegant white dresses, hunched over several pieces of paper full of notes. They look up as the two Rangers open the door, Alyss a little later than Pauline as she still scribbles something down and finishes her sentence. Still, both smile equally brightly as their husbands finally come home again.

Alyss's smile, however, falters a little as her eyes take in her husband. He can feel her eyes on him as he moves around. Will tries to move normally, smoothly, casually. When he ends up at the table, and she stands up to meet him, eyes sparkling, he thinks he got away with it. When she brings her lips down to meet his, he thinks he's in the clear.

Because the kiss is soft, and gentle, and welcoming. It's happy and joyful and delighted.

But then Alyss tucks her hands beneath his shirt. She watches her husband break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of her cold hands on his warm skin. Will hisses. Not just because her hands are freezing - although they definitely are -, but also because they come into contact with a wound that is still open, despite his conviction barely having begun to heal. A wound that he was trying - unsuccessfully, clearly - to hide from his wife.

Will smiles apologetically as he looks up to her, feigning innocence. Pretending to be completely guiltless, blameless, above suspicion, of riding and travelling with a wound in his side.

"Alyss-"

Maybe he can talk his way out of this. Maybe he can argue why he deemed it unnecessary to get stitches right after having been stabbed and can he beat his wife in the field of first aid. Maybe he can play into her emotions and convince her that no, he isn't stupid, and no, he isn't trying to get himself, and yes, he does know that this isn't the healthiest state to travel in, and yes, he is getting stitches eventually, but he just wanted to get home to her first, that's all, he just wanted to get home to her and not delay his return and their reunion for a minute longer. Maybe if he tells her that he loves her, he can make up for being a complete and utter fool of a husband.

But his wife knows him too well. She knows the thoughts that are racing through his head. Knows the sentences that are being formed on his tongue. And she doesn't give him a chance.

"You-"

There's definitely ice in Alyss's words as she speaks. Her hand is still on his side, her soft fingers examining the wound.

"Stay there."

Her grey eyes are no longer sparkling - they are now shooting flames. It seems to reflect the warm air that is flowing to his side, now that his wife has pulled back her hand. The wound in his side remains bare, covered only by bandages that are stiffened by dried blood. His blood. From the wound in his side.

Will pleads as his wife turns her back on him and makes her way to the kitchen, where a first aid kid lies stashed away in one of the cupboards.

"Alyss, it's literally just a-"

"Please don't say scratch," Halt mutters under his breath. The older Ranger had gotten left behind at the door, not daring to come any closer to the explosion he knew was waiting to happen. But for all his advice, and teachings, and mentoring, he still wasn't listened to in this instance.

"-scratch," Will finishes his sentence.

Halt looks up to the ceiling, sighing deeply. He's only slightly surprised that after all these years, his mentee still makes such rookie mistakes. When the bearded Ranger looks down again, he catches Pauline looking at him.

"You let him ride like that?" the older diplomat asks. There's something of an accusation present in her tone and Halt knows he has to offer an explanation, lest he endure the wrath of two intelligent diplomats who know their way with words just a little too well for his taste.

He throws his hands up in defence.

"You think he listens to me?" he exclaims, "Gorlog, he stopped doing that two days after I'd taken him in."

Will snickers, then grimaces as the movement hurts his side.

"It's true."

Alyss throws another deadly glance into her husband's direction as her hands rummage through the kit she just retrieved.

"You haven't earned the right to talk yet."

Sensing that now is not the time for joking, Will decides that there's little more he can do than give in. He takes off his cloak, and his jacket, and his shirt. Halt has to assist him with the latter, because the young Ranger can barely lift his arms without the pain forcing him to bite his lip or gasp in pain.

Meanwhile, Pauline has taken it upon herself to help Alyss prepare the supplies, wetting some clean cloths and heating the needles. Not for the first time, Halt and Will find themselves surprised over the true extent of a Courier's skillset.

Will takes a seat on the couch. He gladly accepts Halt's help as mentor aids him in leaning back comfortably. There's no use in pretending that his side doesn't hurt, not anymore.

Alyss takes a seat next to him, needle and thread in hand. He doesn't make a sound as she removes the old bandages that Halt applied the day before. He doesn't make a sound as his wife examines the wound, cleans it, and stitches it. When she's done and Will's side looks a little less... open, the young Ranger catches her wrists.

"I love you," he teases her.

Alyss looks up to the ceiling and sighs deeply. Still, she can't stop the smile from spreading over her face. She looks down at her husband, laying on the couch, and meets his gaze.

"You're an idiot."

But Will isn't willing to give up. He keeps looking at her, those big brown eyes devious and admiring, that stupid, goofy grin inviting her to give in.

"I still love you."

Alyss sighs again. The smile reaches her eyes.

"I love you too."