Adam’s crimson eyes studied Isolde’s pale face, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands. She was exhausted more than she was letting on.
"Are you sure you’re okay?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of concern beneath it. "You look like you’re about to fall over."
Isolde’s jaw tightened. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, as if trying to hide the weariness in her fra.
"I’m fine. Just... a little low on blood." She glanced at him, then quickly away. "I can’t ask you for more. You’re still injured."
Adam shrugged, but there was no nonchalance in it. Every inch of the movent was stiff, pained, the cost of a body still knitting itself back together.
"It’s fine. The poison’s still in your system anyway." He said it simply, as if stating the obvious. "You need my blood regularly to keep it dormant. That hasn’t changed."
Isolde’s pale eyes flickered back to him, sothing complicated passing through her gaze.
"You’re offering?"
Adam tilted his head, exposing the side of his neck. The bite marks from her previous feedings were still visible, faint pink crescents that hadn’t fully healed.
"If you need it, take it."
Isolde stared at him for a long mont. Her throat bobbed.
"You’re an idiot," she whispered, echoing her words from earlier.
But she stepped closer.
Her hands, trembling slightly, rose to his shoulders. She could feel the warmth of him even through his torn clothes, the steady pulse of his heart beneath her palms. She leaned in, her breath cool against his skin.
"Just... a little."
Her fangs pierced his neck.
Adam’s breath hitched as Isolde’s fangs sank deeper, the pull of his blood steady and insistent. His hand tightened on her back, not pushing her away, just holding her steady.
"Hey... slow down," he murmured, his voice a little strained.
Isolde didn’t seem to hear him. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, her body pressing closer as she drank.
Adam’s internal voice was dry, almost amused despite the lightheadedness.
’Slow down, I said. But no. Typical tsundere. Doesn’t listen to a word I say.’
He closed his eyes and let her feed.
The seconds stretched, the forest silent around them save for the soft sounds of her feeding. Finally, Isolde pulled back, her lips red with his blood. Her tongue darted out, lapping at the remaining crimson, cleaning the wound with an almost reverent care.
The bite marks had already begun to close.
Isolde’s eyes, still hazy from the feeding, focused on Adam’s face. He looked pale and his eyelids were drooping slightly.
"Hey..." Her voice ca out sharp, worried. "Are you okay? You don’t look okay."
Adam’s lips curved into a weak, teasing smile.
"I’m dying..."
Isolde’s pale face went even paler. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him tightly.
"What?! I—I didn’t an to take that much! You should have pushed away!"
"Haha..." Adam’s laugh was soft, breathless. "Just kidding. I’m fine."
Isolde stared at him for a mont, her expression caught sowhere between relief and fury. Then she shoved his shoulder, hard.
"You idiot! That’s not funny!"
Adam stumbled back a step, still smiling.
"Your face was funny."
Isolde’s cheeks flushed crimson. She pulled her hood up, shadowing her burning face.
"Shut up."
Isolde’s hood remained pulled low, shadowing her burning cheeks, but Adam could still see the embarrassed flush creeping down her neck. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, turning her face away from him with a sharp "Hmph."
Adam’s smile lingered, soft and teasing despite the tiredness pulling at his limbs.
"Thanks for the blood," Isolde muttered after a long silence, her voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the crackle of the dying fire. "You didn’t have to..."
Adam shrugged, the motion stiff and pained. "You needed it. And I’d rather you not collapse on watch."
Isolde’s pride bristled, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
"I wouldn’t have collapsed."
"Sure sure."
Adam stretched, wincing as his wounds protested. "I’m going to sleep now. Wake if anything happens."
Isolde nodded stiffly. "Fine."
Adam turned and made his way back toward the tree, then lowered himself to the ground. He leaned his back against the rough bark and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would co quickly. But no matter how he shifted, he couldn’t find a comfortable position. He stretched his arms above his head, wincing as the motion pulled at his still-healing wounds. The tree bark pressed against his back, rough and unyielding, and every adjustnt only seed to make things worse.
"Haaah..." He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I can’t get comfortable."
Isolde, seated on a mossy rock a few paces away, glanced at him from beneath her hood. Her pale eyes, still faintly red-tinged from the recent feeding, studied his restless movents with sothing between annoyance and curiosity.
"You should have thought of that before." Her voice was direct. "Next ti, buy proper camping equipnt. Tents, bedrolls, sothing to keep you off the cold ground." She paused, tilting her head. "But I suppose monsters like you are used to sleeping outside, aren’t you?"
Adam shot her a flat look.
"We’re not animals, Isolde. We just... adapt."
"Mm." Isolde’s lips curved into a faint, almost mocking smile. "Adapt to sleeping on tree bark, apparently."
Adam ignored the jab, shifting again, trying to find a position that didn’t make his ribs ache. His gaze drifted across the clearing to where Lilith and Ignis lay curled together, their breathing slow and even. Lilith’s silver-threaded gown pooled around them both like a protective cocoon, and Ignis’s faintly glowing flas pulsed gently in the darkness.
"Usually, I sleep on Lilith’s lap," Adam admitted, his voice quieter now, almost wistful. "It’s... comfortable."
Isolde’s expression flickered. Her gaze followed his to the sleeping spider-woman, then quickly away.
"And tonight?"
Adam shrugged, wincing again.
"She’s asleep with Ignis. I don’t want to wake them." He sighed, letting his head fall back against the tree trunk. "So I guess I’m sleeping alone."
Silence stretched between them, accompanied only by the crackle of the fire and the distant call of an owl.
Then Adam’s head tilted, his crimson eyes shifting to Isolde. A slow, almost mischievous smile spread across his face.
"Hey, Isolde. How about I use your lap instead?"
Isolde’s pale cheeks flushed. Her arms crossed tighter over her chest.
"Absolutely not."
Adam’s smile widened. "Co on. Just for a little while. I’m really tired, and the ground is cold, and your cloak looks warm..."
"I said no."
"You’re so cold, Isolde." Adam’s voice was teasing, light. "And here I thought we were getting along."
Isolde’s eye twitched. Her internal voice was a chaotic jumble of irritation and embarrassnt, feelings she didn’t want to examine.
’This idiot... asking for sothing so humiliating.’
She looked away, her jaw tight. But Adam didn’t stop looking at her. His crimson eyes, still bright despite his exhaustion, held hers with a patient, almost hopeful expression.
Finally, Isolde let out a long, sharp sigh.
"Fine." The word ca out clipped, reluctant. She shifted on the rock, making room. "But only for a little while."
Adam’s smile softened. He pushed himself up from the tree, his stiff legs carrying him across the clearing. He settled onto the rock beside her, then lowered his head onto her lap.
Her cloak was soft against his cheek, and beneath it, her thighs were warm through the fabric.
"Thanks, Isolde."
Isolde said nothing. Her pale eyes fixed on the fire, her hands resting stiffly at her sides. But after a mont, one of them moved, hovering uncertainly over his hair.
She didn’t touch him. Not yet.
But she didn’t pull away either.
Adam’s eyes closed. The warmth of Isolde’s lap seeped through his tired body, and for the first ti since the battle ended, he felt sothing close to peace.
’Not bad,’ he thought, his internal voice drowsy, content. ’Her lap is softer than I expected.’
Isolde stared down at his sleeping face, her pale eyes tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. He looked younger when he slept, the sharpness softened, the tension gone. Almost... peaceful.
Her hand, still hovering over his hair, finally lowered.
Her fingers combed through his purple hair, soft and hesitant. He didn’t move.
"You’re such an idiot," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Making do things like this..."
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