Author's Note:

It's late, but here it is.

Fair warning - there's a little bit of smut below.

Happy reading :)

Meliodas wasn't sure what to do with the letter. Part of him, the part who longed to forget, wanted to burn it - see the piece of paper dissolve in flame. But he knew that no matter how much he wished for it, he couldn't allow those memories to dim. Pretending Elizabeth was or would always be ok was a luxury he could no longer afford. He knew that he couldn't control everything; the recent past had certainly made that abundantly clear, but he could help. He had to help. Somehow.

Though the days that followed were pleasant in comparison to the torment he had endured after Elizabeth fell, they were difficult in their own right. Meliodas struggled to find a sense of normalcy and balance amidst the overwhelming emotion that overflowed from each of the sins. The dynamic, seemingly so solid after all these years together, had been disrupted by the event, morphed like clay in warm palms. Elizabeth had written each resident of the Boar Hat a letter of their own. Meliodas didn't know what the letters to his friends contained but, based on their interactions with her, he could only imagine that they were similar to his. He did his best to share her, finding an excuse to leave her side when someone else came in the room. His friends had things they needed to say; he understood, or tried to, at least. Nights were the only time Meliodas knew they wouldn't be interrupted, and though he looked forward to them, to having her all to himself, they were hard for Elizabeth. With eight broken ribs, a broken ankle, a concussion, and countless cuts and bruises, she was in unrelenting pain. During the day she was able to mask it, stubbornly stifling the discomfort that came with something as simple as drawing a breath. But night was different. In the silence the agony seemed to radiate from her, bleeding into the air like toxin in water. Pain looked strange on Elizabeth, like something foreign, something she didn't know how to experience for herself. Even as her muscles contracted in discomfort next to him, she casually continued conversation, often making jokes in an effort to soothe him. To soothe him.

On the third night, Meliodas went down to the kitchen. He told himself that he was thirsty and aimlessly looked through the cupboards for a glass to put water in. The feelings - the guilt and self-accusation, were everpresent to the point where they no longer demanded to be felt. Just dully experienced. Like a faint, persistent throb.

The curse that plagued Meliodas was so much more than dread of the inevitable - it was knowing that he was, and would probably always be, farsighted, completely unable to see past the length of his own arm. He knew what the future held in the same way that he knew the ultimate fate of every living being - death, but there was nothing in-between. In another wave of guilt, he remembered he should be happy. The smile on Elizabeth's face should have been enough. He desperately wanted it to be enough. But the bottom line, as harsh as it was, lay tucked away with Elizabeth's suicide note. History, as Meliodas knew all too well, was bound to repeat itself.

"What are you doing up so late?" Meliodas turned - Elizabeth stood at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was messy, her skin bruised, and she wore a thin white nightgown, which, in the moonlight, revealed far more than an outline of her figure. He tried not to stare.

"I might ask you the same question."

She shrugged. "I missed you."

Meliodas forced an inhale, shoving down all physical and emotional reactions to those words. "You need to rest or you're not going to heal."

A smirk played at her lips. "Then come back up with me." Meliodas thought he detected a glint of something unfamiliar in her eye.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Elizabeth walked unsteadily toward him. Her ankle was swollen and red. "Please don't walk anymore-" He groaned.

"I'm okay, Meliodas."

"You're not." He retorted. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, surprised by the edge in his voice.

"What about you?" She asked.

"What about me?" He smiled, but it felt wrong - caustic and bitter. Elizabeth inched closer until the hem of her gown brushed his knees. He took her hips and gently eased her onto his lap; she winced at the simple movement.

"You um-" A low cough crackled somewhere deep in her chest. "Are you okay?"

Meliodas placed his hands on the small of her back, trying to distance himself from the dizzying anxieties that came with seeing her like this - broken and bruised in the moonlight. He thought for a moment. It would be unfair to lie, but it sure was tempting. "I'm-" He searched for the right word. "sub-par."

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. "Can I help?"

Meliodas gave her a brittle smile and ran the tips of his fingers through her hair. "Get better."

"I will." She said. "I promise." She paused. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything"

"Your brother-" Elizabeth searched for the right words. "He doesn't like you very much."

Understatement of the century.

Meliodas nodded. "Something like that, yeah."

"What happened?"

God, where to begin. "I betrayed him."

"How?" Elizabeth asked, surprised.

"I left when he needed me to stay."

"Doesn't sound like you." She said, smiling softly.

Meliodas cleared his throat. "There was something more important - someone I cared about."

Her face reddened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked, I just-"

He shook his head. "You have every right to know."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Do you think he'll ever come back?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. But if he does, we'll be ready." The alternative was unacceptable.

"I want to forget - all of it." She whispered. Meliodas tucked a sheet of hair behind her ear.

"Me too. More than anything."

"Can we pretend?" She asked quietly. "Here, just right now, that it never happened?"

He smiled. "I'd like that."

Elizabeth moved toward him, a tidal wave against a row boat.

He couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but take her in - the taste on her on his tongue, easing life back into him with every breath they shared. He had kissed Elizabeth before, but never like this. There was something behind her movements, the gentle give of her lips that he could only identify once he caught her eye - need. She shifted her hips, moving closer; her fingers played with the hem of his shirt. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, there was a warning, a whisper of caution - her advances did not give him permission. He had to be careful. Slow.

His breath hitched as she led him under her dress, allowing his hand to rest on her thigh. As if sensing the hesitancy in him, Elizabeth whispered his name. The warmth of her breath sent a shiver through him. "I want this." She said softly.

Meliodas drew back a few centimeters, just enough to hold her gaze. "If something hurts, if it's uncomfortable-"

She nodded. "I'll tell you."

Carefully, he moved further up her dress, gently running a finger over the tip of her breast, drawing a breathy gasp from Elizabeth's lips. He had missed this - the way pleasure looked on her.

He explored her body slowly, reverently; his fingers tingled at the touch of her skin - glorious muscle memory. His shell of worry cracked, breaking off in pieces like hardened clay around a rock. Elizabeth smiled against his lips, sensing the release of tension.

She guided his hands down, angling her hips to allow for better access. There was nothing - no barrier between his touch and her pleasure. Meliodas' thumb gently rubbed in circular motions, finding the bundle of nerves with ease.

Slowly, using her expression as a guide, he pushed the tip of a finger into Elizabeth. Her body went ridged, her face contorting in discomfort. Meliodas took her hand and kissed the knuckles, waiting as her body adjusted around him, accommodating the intrusion. When her features softened, he slid in the rest of his finger. Elizabeth let out a soft moan.

Moisture coated his finger and he slowly pumped in and out.

"Upstairs?" She whispered through a kiss.

She was here. She was now. She was every thought that penetrated his foggy mind. She was warmth, sunshine after a cold rain, the electricity that danced across his skin - she was everything. She was always.

"Absolutely."

Meliodas carried Elizabeth up the stairs in his arms - a realization sweeping over him.

He would not be able to prevent every dangerous circumstance or absolve Elizabeth of physical or emotional pain through sheer force of will. But he could love her just as he had always loved her - fully, boundlessly, ready and willing to share her burdens and pull her back to him - a flower from the stars.

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned ;)