Wriothesley has had a bad week so Neuvillette takes care of him.
CW: Contains Smut.
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Wriothesley did not realize how tense he was until Neuvillette appeared at his back, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders. His thumbs slide across the length of them, hooking into a tight muscle and Wriothesley groans, eyes slipping closed as he leans into it.
"That feels nice," he murmurs.
Neuvillette hums softly. "That relieves me. You smell—"
"Thanks." Wriothesley doesn't mean the bitter edge to his tone but he's annoyed. Not at Neuvillette. Never at Neuvillette, but the annoyance stings his gut nonetheless. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."
"I know that." A pause as Neuvillette's thumbs shift lower, digging into the meat between his shoulder blades. Fuck that feels good. "I was going to say that you smell sour."
"Oh that's better, isn't it?"
"Are you alright?" asks Neuvillette instead of entertaining Wriothesley's needling.
Yes and no. It was a shit day at Meropide with too many intakes, too many criminals acting up, and to make matters worse Sigewinne cornered him about his annual physical, something that Wriothesley dreads with a passion.
"I have a killer headache," he eventually says, hedging a more honest response. It's true enough that Neuvillette shouldn't smell a lie.
Neuvillette kisses the crown of his head sweetly. "There is an old adage," he says, nuzzling the coarse strands of Wriothesley's hair, "about kissing it and making it better."
Wriothesley smiles into his palm, feeling marginally better. Neuvillette is adorable when he tries to adopt humanesque mannerisms.
"Still," continues Neuvillette, "I find myself concerned."
"It's nothing." And it isn't. Wriothesley is just fucking tired, majorly annoyed, and has already taken enough painkillers that he can't risk more. Neuvillette is quiet, still pushing and pulling at his shoulders. Waiting. Wriothesley sighs, knowing that this time he won't let it be. "Sigewinne," he surmises.
"She may have sent a message, concerned."
"Because I don't want a physical?"
Wriothesley can still hear her, even now. "You're old—old enough that you should take this seriously." Old his ass. Wriothesley might be a little decrepit but he certainly isn't as ancient as she makes him out to be.
"You know that Sigewinne predates me by like... centuries, right?" he asks.
Neuvillette huffs, mildly amused. "She is long-lived, like any Melusine. You, however—"
"It's a physical."
"That isn't what she was worried about. She knows you're stressed. You refuse to take a vacation and delegate tasks. You've brought work home with you. She thinks that you need some time off and I am inclined to agree."
Oh. Wriothesley pulls at his face, suddenly sheepish. "Hearing that from you is like a pot calling the kettle black." Because Neuvillette is prone to working nights on end, without sleep or food.
"I am built for such things. You are not." Neuvillette's fingers smooth over the back of Wriothesley's neck, just barely dipping into his loose collar to trail across his skin.
Better. That's so much better. Wriothesley leans back into it, tension already melting away. Just the touch of Neuvillette's hand, that's all it takes. Still.
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FanfictionIt's a decade and a half of pining before Wriothesley and Neuvillette decide to take the plunge. Wriothesley/Neuvillette. Notes: Neuvillette has dragon-related junk in this fic. Collection of oneshots that are written out of order. Everything is rel...