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There were few things worse than being confined to the med tent. He couldn't train, couldn't move, couldn't do much of anything.

You'd think because of that, Cain would try to avoid it. Try as he might, though, he ended up back there after almost every battle. Maybe he was cursed.

Still, his wounds were usually something that only needed some quick aid, and he was hardly in there for more than a day.

This time, however, was different. He wakes to Julian glaring, a sure sign of Lena overexerting herself with healing. "Don't move, I'll get Lena." Cain nods, not that Julian stayed long enough to see it.

He doesn't feel hurt, though. Moving his left leg is fine, right leg fine, left arm—

A blinding shock of pain courses through him, and it's only by biting down on his tongue that he manages not to scream. There…it was…

"Didn't he tell you not to move?" Lena rushes to his side, staff ready with Julian still glaring at him over her shoulder. She's cautious when she undoes the bandages, but every little twitch of Cain's shoulder still hurts a considerable amount. "It's…I could heal it more, but I still need to…"

"I can deal with a little pain." He covers up a wince with a smile. Ugh, he could taste blood now. Really should've listened...

"If you insist…"

"You shouldn't overwork yourself," Julian interjects. Cain nods, hoping Lena doesn't notice the pained gasp that comes with even that tiny movement.

"I'll at least redress it." A white light illuminates the tent for a brief moment. "That should help with the pain, first."

"I told you I could—"

"You're a terrible liar," Julian interjects. Wait, wasn't he just…?

"Still, you do have to save your strength. I can take care of this," a new voice says.

"Abel?" Lena turns around.

"Abel!" Julian jumps, startled.

"Abel…" Cain strains his neck to see him. His arm does hurt less—but he still feels Lena still shouldn't have wasted her precious healing magic just for that.

"If it's just dressing a wound, I can do that."

"Oh, will you? Thank you!" She yawns unwittingly, then blushes. "Really, you don't know how much this helps…"

"Then maybe you should rest," Julian stresses as they leave the tent.

All Cain can focus on is Abel. Huh, he's not in his armor…how long have I been out? "Why are you here, anyway?"

"…I live here?" A quick look confirms that this is indeed their tent, just with a cot moved in for him. Cain wonders how he missed it. A coil of guilt twists in his stomach—that must mean the med tent was full, yet Lena still came to heal him. If only he was better…

"Anyway, let me have your arm." Instead of waiting for Cain to turn like a decent person, Abel just grabs his arm and pulls it towards him. Another flash of pain overwhelms him, stronger than the first one even dulled by Lena's magic. It feels like someone's poured a bucket of hot coals onto his shoulder, and Cain can't bear it—he screams out, eyes slamming shut.

It's as over as quickly as it started. Cain protects his injured arm as best as he can without moving it, which is to say, not very well. Even his other arm is trembling from the shock.

"It hurts that much?"

Cain can't actually see Abel from his current position, so he settles for scowling at a spot on the ground. "Yes, you ass." He blinks angrily—he'd actually teared up, how pathetic. Abel would never let him live it down.

"…Ah." He can't quite place the tone of his voice, and when Abel moves so they face each other, his expression is unreadable."Stay still, then." Surprisingly, there's no comment on his wet eyes.

Cain grits his teeth, bracing himself. But the pain never comes, as Abel kneels and starts cleaning his wound so gently he barely feels anything. It's actually kind of…nice, so he lets himself relax a bit…

"Oy, stay awake." Abel snaps his fingers in front of his face. "I don't know if sleeping so much is good for you."

Cain grumbles but does as told, watching the careful way Abel works. So focused… For some reason, his face heats up. Even as Abel applies the salve, Cain feels nothing worse than the usual burn. Perhaps it's Lena's magic, but he's willing to bet that's not all.

"Are you sick?" Crap, he noticed. Abel presses a cool hand to his forehead, and Cain can't help but lean into it. "It's a bit warm," he confirms, frowning. "But we'll deal with that later. Come forward a bit, let me see your back."

"Right," he hisses as the movement jolts his arm—again. It's bearable, but still.

Abel is frowning once more, deep in thought.

"Something wrong?" Cain asks.

Abel makes a noncommittal sound, stepping behind him and running his fingers down his back. Cain shivers.

"Cold?"

"A—a little." Cain feels like he's burning up, actually. His skin prickles where Abel had touched it.

"Well, I don't see anything serious, just some bruises. So…" Abel steps back. "You'll have to lift your arm in a bit." He starts by bandaging a smaller cut on his arm, then starts on his shoulder. "Sorry about this…"

Every inch Cain's shoulder moves sends a fresh wave of pain through his body. "Gods…what…" he manages through gritted teeth. What happened… Whatever it was, Cain would very much like it to never happen again.

Abel works as quickly as he can without hurting him further, which is actually quite fast. "Heh, maybe you should look into healing," Cain remarks as he finishes the final touches.

Completely ignoring him, Abel goes digging through their supplies for…something. Cain cranes his neck to try and see, but instead of getting a glimpse, he yelps from the pain caused by twisting his shoulder and almost slides off the cot.

"Can't leave you alone for a second." Irritation colors Abel's voice, along with that same strange emotion he'd seen before. "At least you didn't ruin your bandages…"

Concern.

Of course that was it.

"And for your curiosity, I was only trying to get you something to eat…hm?"

Warmth blooms in his chest, almost uncomfortable. Should his heart be beating so fast?

"You're flushed again." Cain presses his forehead against the hand Abel places on his forehead, and even he notices the movement. "You really must be feverish."

"Are—are you actually worried?" Actually, the warmth is becoming stifling now—he has to say something.

Of course, it's the wrong thing.

Abel looks absolutely broken. "Did you think I wouldn't care?" His voice cracks, like everything he'd been suppressing (probably for Cain's sake) was about to boil over. "You nearly died!"

"I—what? No, no, of course not!" Dammit, why can't I get close enough! "I just, the battle, everything happened, and I…forgot? I mean, um, I don't…actually know what happened, exactly…" He'd meant not to admit to that, but Cain was never too good at not saying things. What he does manage is to grab onto Abel's top and pull him down closer…and then forgets what he was meaning to do after.

Abel blinks, eyes wide from surprise. "You…forgot." He's calmed down… Abel should never look that hurt. Especially not because of him. "Maybe that's for the best." He stands up straight, but he's closer than before, at least. His brow furrows. "Or maybe you'll just be as reckless as before."

"Then what happened?"

"That." He gestures to Cain's bandaged shoulder. "A little more to the left, and the lance would've…" He swallows, then takes a shaky breath. "Your armor's probably the only reason you're still here. Gods, it looked like it was going to go straight through…"

Cain doesn't really know what to say to that. Abel won't meet his eyes, gripping the bedpost tighter than he probably realizes. That close… At least he would've died in the service of Lord Marth. I won't run again.

"Please don't say that." Abel looks suddenly, unbelievably exhausted.

"I-I didn't mean to." He really didn't mean to say it out loud. Especially not if it would make Abel look so sad. "Just…"

"Death is death. No matter how you die, you still end up dead. There's no coming back from that."

"…yes. I, I…know that." He knows it doesn't sound very convincing, but Abel accepts it.

"Now, stay still." He's back in a moment, with…bread and cheese? "You have to eat something. Don't expect me to make soup for you." He cuts it himself, which Cain would object to if one of his arms wasn't currently out of commission. "Open up."

Okay, that's crossing a line. "I can feed myself!" he splutters.

Abel simply raises an eyebrow. "You can't even stay still properly."

He starts his retort, and but Abel just takes the opportunity to shove the bread in his mouth. "Don't bother."

Cain chews indignantly. He's not even that hungry, but Abel isn't wrong… There's no point being mad at someone who won't even acknowledge it. Besides, he's probably…trying…

"Hey, don't fall asleep just yet." Abel shakes his shoulder—the good one—lightly, just barely enough to bring him back to consciousness. "Finish first."

Cain mumbles something even he doesn't understand. The food is cold, but he feels inexplicably warm inside. And the reason…

Perhaps it's Abel.

He blinks, looking around the room. Did he leave?

"I'm right here." Oh, he'd just gone back to do…something. He's close again, though. That's all that matters. "I'll leave now, so you can rest."

"…Stay." There's something else he should say, isn't there? "Please." That doesn't feel entirely right, but it works.

"Alright, alright. Only since you asked so nicely." The words feel like they should be mocking, but Abel sounds sincere. At least, it means he'll stay.

His vision loses focus as sleep overtakes him, but Cain thinks he sees Abel smile, small but still warm. Familiar. Abel should always be smiling.

"…I wouldn't want to leave, anyway."

Of course it's Abel.

as usual, i'm more active on ao3...

the world needs more cain/abel ok