Disclaimer: I do not own Tristan, Galahad, King Arthur, etc. I'm not even close to owning them.

Author's Note: Omg. It's not a Rent story! Here's the scoop. I've joined a new writing challenge on LiveJournal, and it's 11 Reasons. So, using my prompts, I'm writing 11 Reasons Why Tristan Loves Galahad. I apologize now for any out of character bits, and for the crappy length. I'm trying to make them longer as I go. Be gentle. This is my first King Arthur fic. Enjoy.

REASON #1

Tristan loves it when Galahad touches him. Despite himself, Tristan always leans into the warmth of the younger knight. He finds it amazing how through all the battles, and harsh weather conditions, Galahad's skin stays so smooth – so perfect. It is a refreshing surprise for Tristan at the end of every day. It is especially comforting on days that are less than good.

On such a day, Tristan has fallen ill. It is not serious – merely a small cough. However, it is enough to put him slightly off his game. The other knights notice it. Arthur, as usual, asks Tristan to ride ahead and check the trail for any enemies on their way back from a small mission. Tristan nods, doing as if requested of him. His acute awareness is obviously below average as he rides away. The knights exchange glances, but say nothing. When Tristan returns, he is coughing. He tells them of Woads blocking the way. Arthur instructs him to find a different way to return to the wall, since he does not want to risk Tristan's condition becoming worse. Reluctantly, yet obediently, Tristan turns away from his companions and leaves them.

He is resting when the knights return. He hears them coming from a mile away. He stirs slightly, still angry about being sent away. Then, as if knowing he is needed, Galahad walks quietly into Tristan's quarters. He sits on Tristan's bed, noting the slight rasp in the older man's breathing.

"Why are you ill?" Galahad asks.

"Why must you ask questions?" Tristan's eyes open. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he looks at Galahad.

"You're mad that you couldn't fight. And that was a statement, not a question."

"Has Gawain taught you that attitude?"

Galahad doesn't answer. Instead, he pushed Tristan's hair out of his face, then caresses his cheek. Tristan's eyes close again a silent sigh escapes him. Another small smile graces his face.

"You know, Galahad," Tristan murmurs contentedly, "perhaps I should fall ill more often, if this is the treatment that gets bestowed on me."

Galahad laughs.

"I can't understand you, Tristan. You are always so solitary and secretive. Why do you never show this side of you?"

"I must enjoy your company."

With a small roll of his eyes, Galahad kisses Tristan softly. He stands up, and Tristan grabs his hand as it leaves his face.

"Get some rest," instructs Galahad. "Knowing you, you'll be gone by dawn."

That said, Galahad leaves. Tristan holds on to his hand for as long as possible before it slips out of his grip. He loves Galahad's touch, and, although he will never admit it, it is just one of the many reasons why he loves Galahad.


Author's Note: Yay! #1 Done!