AAAAHHHHHHH LOOK WHAT I DDDIIIIDDDDD
Trislance fandom, consider this my official apology for being so absent recently and my lack of trislance content and 4kota content in general akajakahahak
@alwaysamor SURPRISE, I DEDICATE THIS TO YOU, BESTIE, PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK
~*~
Lancelot is about three seconds from imploding.
About fifteen minutes prior, Lance had arrived at the annual Britannian Dusk Festival, an occasion which was put into place after his Uncle Meliodas and Aunt Elizabeth took the thrones.
Lance isn't usually one to go to these types of things, but he's started to realize that he, annoyingly, can't even say no to Tristan no matter how much he wants to. And the silverette had insisted he come along. And so, as soon as he'd stepped into the middle of town, a nephilim was immediately there with him.
"Oh, Lance, you made it! Come along, there's so much to show you!!" And then he'd grabbed one of Lance's hands and ran off, pulling him along behind him.
And ever since then, all he can think about is the hand in his. How it's both soft and calloused at the same time. How it holds onto his firmly, squeezing every so often as if to remind him of it's existence. And as Tristan talks and talks and talks about the festival and the booths and everything around them, Lance doesn't hear a single word of it.
He swallows as the tingling of bells reaches his ears and he looks up from the sight of their hands embracing to Tristan's face, red eyes locking with heterochromatic green and blue ones. And that's when he realizes that he never heard any bells. What he heard was Tristan laughing.
"Not like you to get so zoned out, Lance. It's kind of fun to see." Tristan says softly, a knowing look in his eyes and a slight pink to his cheeks.
He looks down at their hands and moves his own hand in order to line their fingers up and then lock them together. Lance's already pink cheeks darken, his eyes widening slightly.
"If I knew just holding your hand would make you react this way, I would've done it a lot sooner." Tristan says cheekily.
He stares at the prince for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing as he tries and fails to make his brain form words. So, instead, he just scoffs and looks to the side. "Whatever. They got any good food around here? Not the sweet crap you're always eating."
Tristan grins brightly. "Of course! I know just the booth!" And he goes right back to dragging Lance along with him throughout the crowds of people. And if Lance lets an affectionate smile form on his lips, then that's nobody's business but his own.
