Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice, nor the characters used in this story.

(A/N): Just some small Will/Horace fluff I thought of.

As he became aware of his surroundings, Will realized he was laying on cold, stone floor. Something was cushioning his head, but nothing was covering his body from the frigid air around him. His hands, which rested against his stomach, were dead cold, and for a moment, he wondered if his body was dead, and he was just a spirit, looking on what else was bound to happen.

When waves of pain came over him, that's when he realized he was still, unfortunately, alive.

He groaned, and attempted to turn on his side, and draw his knees up to his chest. At the moment, he only wanted to make himself smaller, as if the less space he took up, the less pain he would feel.

Whatever his head lay on moved, and soon enough, a hand stopped him from turning, while another ran itself through his hair, pushing it away from his face. It was a familiar gesture, as if the owner of the hand was used to doing something like that. The hand was gentle, and the other, which had earlier stopped him from turning to his side, now placed itself on his cheek. It was an odd angle though, so the wrist and arm of the person wrapped around his head. Whoever it was, they were above his head, behind him.

His head rested on their leg, he realized.

It was crooked in a way so that the person's knee was at the base of his skull, while the bend cradled his head so it wouldn't move too much.

"Will? Are you awake?" A voice whispered. Underneath his head, Will felt the person move their leg, bringing it back in line with the other, and drawing Will up so his head now rested firmly on their lap.

Opening his eyes was harder than he expected. It wasn't like it was too bright out, where ever they were, but it just made the pain more realer than before. But he forced his eyes open, and stared at the ceiling with a mixture of confusion and dread.

They were in the dungeons.

"Will?" The voice asked again, and this time the person leaned over his face.

Horace.

"Horace," he croaked, staring up at him. Will reached his hand towards his face, but just opening his eyes seemed to expand all of his energy, and it began to drop before it got close. Horace smiled, the relief evident on his face. He placed his hand once more on Will's forehead, but this time didn't pull his fingers through his hair, but just left it there. He dropped his other hand to Will's shoulder, where it squeezed him reassuringly.

Sighing, Horace murmured, "How're you feeling, bud?"

"It . . . hurts," Will replied, each syllable extended as he drew in energy to say them. From what he could tell, the waves of pain originated from his stomach, right below his sternum. It throbbed, every wave of pain dimming his sight.

His partner rubbed his shoulder, leaning his head down above Will's. He seemed just as tired as Will, dark circles barely visible underneath his eyes. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. Maybe you should rest some more," he said quietly as his eyes flicked over Will's face, going from his eyes, to his lips, to his cheek.

"What . . . happened," Will asked, keeping his eyes focused on Horace's.

"We failed," Horace replied simply.

Silence stretched between the two of them, until Horace straightened up, and leaned back up against the wall. He wore only loose trousers and an undershirt, no shoes or anything else. Moving his head, Will looked down to see he was wearing similar clothing. Looking to the side, he saw a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron. Dark grey stone made the walls, with no windows or breaks in the monotonous surroundings.

"Where are the others?" He looked back around, moving his head around Horace's lap. He shrugged, looking away from Will. Immediately, he was suspicious. "Horace? Where are they?"

Sighing again, Horace looked back down to Will, "I don't know. After you were hurt, everything went downhill. They were putting people in cell's separately. We're together because I was the only one who could carry you."

Soon after, Will drifted off once more. He hadn't expected him to stay awake for so long, but it was still relieving to see him awake and talking, if for only a few minutes. Before he was completely out, Horace tucked an arm underneath one of Will's armpits, and turned him as he turned himself. Horace stretched his legs out beside Will's, bringing his body closer to his to share warmth. He put an arm around the small Ranger's shoulders, and, as he dropped off, Will let his head drop to read against Horace's chest.

The knight didn't care if someone decided to barge in at the moment, even though their relationship was still a secret. He was just worried about Will's well-being, and knew that it was a good chance that he could catch a cold, or something worse, while he healed. And he needed to heal.

Drawing him closer, Horace breathed in the comforting, familiar redolence. He relaxed his tensed muscles as he shifted, and used a leg to hook Will's own, drawing him closer.

Every once and a while, he would make a small movement. Tightening his hold around his partner's shoulders.. Turning his head so he was nose-to-nose with Will. Once, he released on arm, and brought it around to the Ranger's wrist. He didn't remove it until he felt the heartbeat, and even afterwards, he watched Will's chest rise and fall. It was shallow, but it was there.

After a few hours of watching him, just to be sure he was all right, Horace finally felt comfortable in getting a few hours of shut-eye himself. He let his head drop, setting it on the hard, cold stone floor. He let Will's shallow breaths, and the drip of some water off the ceiling, to lull him into a fitful sleep.

Will didn't know how long they had been down there, when the banded door finally opened for the first time. He was sitting up, also for the first time, when they heard the door creak open. He brought his head up from where it rested on Horace's shoulder, intending to see the intruder before they saw them. The couple were curled up in the far corner, and the door opened so that it blocked the entire room from the one who was entering until they went to close it.

When that happened, the person's body was entirely through the door, it shut firmly behind them.

A young woman, brown hair tied up behind her head was now in the room with them. In her hand, she gripped a satchel, and the other, what looked like a rolled up blanket.

Glancing over to Horace, Will saw that there was no surprise in his partner's eyes.

Horace shifted his back, sitting up more, and tightening his grip around Will's shoulders. When the woman turned around, both bobbed their heads in greeting. "Deanna, you're back," he said flatly.

The woman nodded, and inched towards them. She was bent over, a nervous look on her face. Obviously, she either didn't like being in here, or something had happened earlier. "Sir-Sir Horace, sir. How are the wounds?"

He seemed to hesitate, and he glanced towards Will, who still had his eyes fixed on Deanna. Finally, he released his grip on Will, and motioned towards him, "If you could check his, that would be great," and then, he turned away.

Horace previously hadn't been acting oddly, so this sudden change in personality was alarming.

Deanna stepped forward, a smile lighting up her face. "You're awake! You haven't been awake the other times I've been here, so this is good!" Suddenly, she seemed lighter, and easier-going. She set down her satchel, and handed off the blanket to Horace, saying, "They let me take this in, since I figured the cold down here wasn't doing either of you good."

"At least they're letting you still come," Horace murmured quietly. He was watching her every movement, as she set a hand on Will's shoulder to help him lie down. He watched as she brought up his shirt, and started to cut away the soiled bandages.

Shrugging, the healer rustled through her bag, before bringing out a salve, and some fresh bandages. "They don't want any prisoners to die, so I'm actually going through quite a few of cells, and checking on injuries. Luckily, the two of you have the worst injuries, so it's nothing too bad," she said, conversationally.

"Wait," Will snapped suddenly. The amount of venom in his voice caused Deanna to flinch, and Horace to look wide-eyed at his partner. "The two of us? Is that what you said?" The Ranger turned his icy glare onto Horace, "You're hurt?"

Horace held up his hands, attempting to stop Will's tirade. "Will—"

"You're hurt," he repeated, "and you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't want you to worry!" Horace defended, crossing his arms, "you're hurt bad enough, any extra stress would have been unnecessary and dangerous."

Will went silent, glaring at Horace from where he lay, although he was now partially sitting up. Deanna sat awkwardly between the two, looking back and forth, clutching her small bag to her chest. She had been tying up the bandage around Will's stomach when he had sat up, and so technically had nothing else to do. Except—

"Where's he hurt?" The Ranger asked suddenly.

"It doesn't—" Horace started.

"The shoulder," Deanna interrupted, glancing between the two with a startled look on her face. "It's not that bad. He did get a slight leg wound as well, but that healed a while ago."

Seething, Will turned away, laying back down on his side, and curling up, alone, on the cold stone floor.

Pursing his lips, Horace looked over to Deanna. "Thanks," he smiled, although he wasn't sure if she'd heard the sarcasm or not. She smiled back, and got to her feet.

"I'll hopefully see you two again," she said in farewell. She tapped on the door, and seconds later it opened, and she slipped out. Horace, nor Will, saw who opened the door for her, and no one made a sound when she stepped out either.

When the door was shut once more, Will drew his knees up to his chest, and brought his arms around his legs. The cold went through his thin clothes, and it hurt his head to be keeping it resting on the ground like that.

Horace sighed, and picked up the blanket that sat on his lap. He draped it over Will, and no words passed between them when he laid down next to him either.

They were talking again by the time it happened.

It was about a week later, maybe, and at the time, they were curled up underneath a blanket together, Will's head resting once more on Horace's chest, and Horace's own head resting on his arm. Once more, the knight had an uncomfortably tight grip around Will's shoulders, as if he was afraid that he would disappear. The Ranger didn't mind, however. They were both alive, and together, so things could have been worse. They could have been separated. They could have been dead.

That night, things got suspiciously quiet. Normally, they could have heard people walking above them, or in the halls, or even outside. But it was silent, and so the pair held each other tighter, and drew themselves into the far corner, unsure as to what might happen.

Then their door opened.

Quickly drawing away from each other silently, Horace crouched at Will's feet, while Will, who was still fairly week, drew himself up into a sitting position. He didn't say anything to Horace when his sight dimmed with the effort, and suddenly, it was hard for him to breathe.

Horace moved in front of Will, protectivly hiding him from whoever was entering the cell. He seriously doubted that it would be Deanna, as she had just visited yesterday.

"Will? Horace? Anyone in here?" A voice whispered, although no one stepped in.

Horace stumbled to his feet. "Halt?"

The door was pushed open completely, and the grizzled Ranger stood there, looking into the darkness for the location of the voice. "Horace? Are you okay?"

Glancing back momentarily to Will, Horace limped forward towards Halt, who had glanced outwards into the hall. "I am, but Will's injured badly."

Halt reached out, gripping Horace's forearm to steady him. Will sank further into the corner, but couldn't find the energy to respond. They continued to speak, but to Will, all he heard was mumbles. Halt called something down the hall, and someone responded. Horace said a few more things, as did Halt. Someone came inside, who was slightly taller than Halt, but was just a smidge shorter than Horace. The newcomer also wore a Ranger cloak, and something long protruded from his side. A sword.

Will's blurry vision tracked him as Horace turned, motioning back towards the Ranger in the corner. That's when Horace noticed something was wrong.

Everything blacked out as Horace stepped back towards him.

Horace had been aware they were still in Castle Araluen, but he doubted that Will did. He had been knocked out, and stabbed, before Horace had been forced to carry him down there. Along with the two of them, Cassandra, Duncan, and Crowley, along with multiple other knights and retired Rangers, were forced to fill the small dungeon of the grand castle. They threw the dangerous people in the cells, but when they had run out of room down there, they started to lock people in separate rooms. And that was where they faulted.

There were multiple ways out of the castle, some having only a few people knowing of them. Evidently, someone was put in a certain room, and was able to escape and find help before anything serious happened.

Except, wouldn't the sieging of the country's capital be considered 'serious'?

Horace looked down on Will's sleeping form, now bundled underneath layers of blankets, with his head cushioned on a few pillows. He hadn't woken up since he passed out in the dungeons. Horace found himself watching for his partner's chest to rise and fall, waiting for the break that would mean disaster.

"He'll be fine," someone whispered behind him. He didn't need to turn to know it was Deanna. Now that she was back in her territory, she comfortably stood beside Horace as they both looked down on him. "Although," she hesitated, but continued, "maybe you shouldn't be putting so much pressure on your leg. It may be mostly healed, but you can't stress it too much."

Instead of responding, Horace turned away from the bed, and walked towards the door. He had to meet with Duncan, Halt, Crowley, and a few others, and he was already late. "Call for me, if he wakes up," he said quietly.

"You can touch me there all you want behind closed doors," Will hissed, "but I swear I will skin you if you continue to put your hand on my ass in these halls."

Horace choked, his feet tripped over thin air, and Will let his arm slip away from him to stay on his own feet. The knight stumbled, catching himself on the wall. Will blankly stared at him, standing in place until Horace regained his balance. Sure, he could stand on his own feet, but he couldn't walk too far without Horace's help.

Wrapping his arm back around Will's waist, they walked the rest of the way to Will's room, pausing at the door. Eventually, Horace got it open, and he directed Will into the room, while he kicked the door shut behind him.

After getting Will to the bed, Horace stood uncertainly at the edge of the bed. Grabbing a pillow, Will resting his head on it, and looked up at Horace. "Why don't you stay?"

"Someone would notice," he murmured in response.

A long pause later, and Will sighed heavily. "Honestly, Horace? I don't care anymore. If you want to go, go."

Horace smiled, and looked away from him. Then, he shrugged.

The door slammed open, and both Will and Horace flinched at the sudden interruption of their warm sleep. Will slept closer to the wall, and was hidden from whoever was at the door, but at the same time . . .

"Horace? Why the hell are you in Will's bed?" Gilan asked, oblivious of Will's presence, "I am in Will's room, right? I was supposed to check on him."

Of course, that was when Will finally decided to sit up.

Gilan's mouth dropped open.

Will's eyes widened in a realization that was seconds too late.

"How long?" The tall Ranger asked, a wide grin on his face. There was mischeif in his eyes, but he didn't move from the doorway as Horace struggled to turn himself and swing his legs to the side. He could feel his face burning, but at least they were both fully clothed.

"A few years," Will mumbled, dropping back against the pillows. He was already exhausted.

His grin got wider, and Horace could even see him bouncing up and down his feet, as if he were excited. Gilan clapped his hands together, and smiled at the two of them. "Well! Would either of you love birds like breakfast?"

"No," the couple said in unison.

Horace hesitated, watching Gilan's movements as he walked around the room, pushing back curtains and opening a window like a maid would. He even picked up Horace's boots, which were tossed up against the wall nearby the bed. "What're you going to do now," he asked.

Gilan shrugged again, standing up to his full height again. "Halt doesn't know?" Will shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. Gilan continued, a bemused smile once again on his face, "I guess you two being together would explain Jenny and Alyss getting together more often?" And before either Will or Horace could respond, Gilan fell across the foot of the bed, joining the two of them who already lay on the bed.

"Don't worry you two, your secret is safe with me."

Will scoffed, "Oh yeah? And I bet you said the same thing to Jenny and Alyss."