Title: Care and Compensation
Author: dealiberty
Pairing: Arthur/Tristan
Rating: PG
Dedication: for Corinth, as a present that was suppose to be for Xmas.
Summary: When Tristan gets ill, he's not a good patient.
Feedback: feeds the muses. All comments, including constructive criticism is welcomed.

"So, if you go out and follow the line of trees until you - " Tristan sneezes and Arthur turns to stare incredulously at him, and even Tristan himself is looking quite surprised.

"Tristan?" Tentative, as if something's terribly, horribly wrong.

"It's okay, I think it's just - " and he sneezes again.

It doesn't take more than a few days before he's been ordered to bed by Arthur, on recommendation from the doctor, because his cold is getting worse and his temperature's starting to rise - and there's high risk of influenza.

And Arthur refuses to risk losing another knight if he doesn't have to - Arthur refuses to risk losing Tristan.

Tristan, however, doesn't see the point, doesn't see the reasons. He doesn't like being kept inside, uncomfortably claustrophobic when he doesn't see the sky, when he's not allowed to roam free.

And the liquid they try to force down his throat tastes vile and he can't see how it's going to help. So he refuses to drink it.

He tries to reason with Arthur, tries to persuade Arthur to let him out, let him ride - let him do anything that's not just stay in bed. And when Arthur refuses, Tristan's the worst patient Arthur's ever known.

He's bad-tempered, more sarcastic than usual, snappish, violent and intimidating - until no one will watch him, and Arthur has no choice but to play nurse himself.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" Arthur asks, sitting down beside him, goblet of that "medicine" in his hand. "Do you not want to get better?"

"I'll be fine, Arthur," he tries again. "I'll be fine if you'll let me out. Don't lock me up here, don't make me stay inside."

"Tristan," Arthur sighs, tipping his chin from where he'd been avoiding Arthur's gaze until he's forced to meet his eyes. "I cannot risk you. I cannot survive the next ten years blind."

And finally, Tristan understands.

He takes the goblet from Arthur's hand, downs the despicable concoction in one gulp and makes a face as the taste lingers in his mouth.

But then his eyes slip closed and his lips part willingly and easily as Arthur's tongue helps rid him of the aftertaste.