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dxncingwithastrxnger · 2 years ago

Text

1. it’s been a secret for the longest time

A/N: Hey, guys!!! I've been working on this story for about a week or so, I'm so excited to finally be posting it!!! A couple of weeks ago, I became absolutely obsessed with the song inspiration for this and eventually my brain started applying it to Trilance and I'd say the result is absolutely beautiful. This is actually Chapter 1 out of at least 2 (though I might continue with more than that if people really want me to). Originally this was going to be much longer, it was actually going to include a whole smut scene which would've almost doubled the word count at least, maybe even fully doubled it, but my laptop needs to charge and I need to go to sleep, lmao. So you guys get part one now and part two sometime tomorrow!! Imma have to go back through and do some proofreading later on, but for the most part, it should be good to go!!! Happy reading!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot

Summary: For months now, Tristan and Lancelot have played a game of secret flirting, lustful longing, and maybe even something a bit more. But now that a certain date has finally been set, they're running out of time to decide what they want and Tristan decides he's going to finally make a move to advance things forward.

Tags: Aged up characters (somewhere around 21-24), alcohol, sexual tension, slight Guinevere bashing (💀💀), cheating/infidelity sorta (depends on how you look at it, I guess? But people have tried to come at me for not tagging cheating in the past, so, lmao)

Song Inspiration: Shameless By Camila Cabello (Highly recommend, btw)

Word Count: 4,883

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

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[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

Lancelot holds his breath as he waits. It's time. This is when he always shows up. Well, when they always show up, but he could care less about her. It's only him that he's concerned about. And there he is. Right on time. He watches from across the crowded club as two people come in through the front entrance. The flashing lights of the paparazzi that have followed them here were barely noticeable thanks to the heavy door blocking the club from the outside world quickly closing behind them.

A pinkette and a silverette make their way through the dancefloor slowly, stopping and talking to people, going by the bar to get their first round of drinks. Both of them are the closest thing to royalty you can get in their country, and in this club that means they are royalty as far as anyone is concerned. And they definitely live up to the title. A prince and a soon-to-be princess.

They're both beautiful. Stunning, even. They're shining stars, a picture perfect couple. The ultimate couple goals. Their life is perfect and nothing could be better. Everyone wants someone to love them like those two love each other. All anyone wants in life is to find someone who treats them as well as the prince treats the princess. That's all according to the world-wide media, anyways. But again, Lance doesn't care about anyone but the prince.

Finally, after a few minutes, they make their way over to where Lancelot is. Because of course. If they're the prince and princess, then he's a nobleman, his father being the royal advisor to the King himself, after all, if he were to continue his kingdom metaphors. He could even go so far as to say he was a family friend, though he's personally never spent much time with any of them.

"Lancelot, hello!" The princess addresses him kindly. "How have you been?"

He meets her eyes reluctantly. Not because he's afraid or intimidated by her, quite the opposite, in fact. There's just better places for him to look at right now. "I've been well, and you, your majesties?" He tacks on his little nickname for them with a playful grin.

She flushes slightly, but just shakes her head at him with a roll of her eyes while the prince beside her lets out a deep chuckle that absolutely lights Lance up inside. "We've been very well, isn't that right, my love?" The prince looks from Lance to the woman beside him as he speaks.

"Oh, yes, so much has happened recently. We must catch you up once we've finished making our round of greetings." The princess looked to be positively bursting with excitement. She then looks to the rest of his booth with curiosity and confusion, seeming to just now notice the lack of a brunette beside him. "Both of you. Where's your princess, Lance?" She questions, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she teases him with his own nickname for her.

Oh gods, don't let her hear you call her that. She would never let any of us live it down and then we'd have some real problems. He thinks with a mental sigh of exasperation. "She had a business call to attend to, I'm sure she'll be back by the time you two are." He states politely.

They both nod. "We'll be off then, see you in a few." Is called back at him as they turn and walk away. He shakes his head and turns back to the table, downing the rest of his drink in order to keep himself from staring at the Prince's backside as he walks away. He sets his glass back down and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and sighing as he sags in his seat.

The prince and princess. Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors. Son of Meliodas Taizman and daughter of Chester Connors. Chester is someone who started out as nothing more than average middle-class and managed to work his way up the ladder and into the livelihood of the rich after finding a way to create a new piece of technology that allows people to rediscover long lost memories.

Meliodas is the Mayor of the city of Liones, the capitol of our country and the biggest and most populated place in all of Britannia. He's married to the previous Mayor's daughter, so some like to say that he didn't rightfully earn his place as leader of the people, but the truth is, he had already started making a name for himself before he'd even met his current wife, through his connection with the Sin Committee.

They were a group of activists who came from out of town. They're an interesting mix of people. Each of them have their own individual cause that they wanted to focus on the most, so they'd be in charge of that topic, situation, idea, etc. But whenever there was a protest or a meeting or a vote, all the other members would gather to help out. There was 7 of them, so they each chose one of the seven deadly sins to use as a code name, which is also where their official group name came from. They gathered for all kinds of stuff. Protests, uprisings, voting polls, they made speeches and outed assholes who tried to make themselves look good. And they didn't just do it in Liones, they did it all over Britannia. Danafall, Edinburgh, Benwick. They were changemakers and they were damn good at it.

They were planning on eventually traveling out of Liones and continuing on, but then Meliodas met the mayor's daughter, Elizabeth Liones. And he decided to stay so that he could be with her, settle down and actually grow out some roots somewhere. And the rest of his group followed suit, each one finding some reason or another to stay here and build an official life for themselves. Eventually Meliodas and Elizabeth got married and not long after, Meliodas ran for Mayor as Elizabeth's father stepped down.

So, the prince. Yeah, Lance thinks it's a pretty fitting name, considering the whole damn city is named after his family. That choice of nickname definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that if told to, he would immediately fall to the man's feet and do whatever else was asked of him without hesitation. It definitely doesn't have to do with the fact that for months, the only constant thought in his mind is what Tristan's skin might feel like and how his lips might taste. And it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Lance has never wanted any man, any person, more than he's wanted Tristan Liones. Definitely not.

"What's up with you? Tired already?" A voice breaks him from his thoughts as the brunette slides into the booth next to him, having finished up with her phone call.

The only thing making me tired is you, Lance thinks wryly. "No, just lost in thought, thinking over some stuff." He replies, flashing her a quick half-hearted smile. "Isolde and Tristan stopped by to say hi. Isolde says she wants to tell us about some things. They should be back anytime now." He informs her.

"Oh good, it's been awhile since we've seen them, it'll be good to catch up." She states, smiling as she loops her right arm through Lance's left one and leans her head on his shoulder. Lance suppresses a sigh and places an arm around her shoulders out of obligation more than anything else, the girl under his arm sighing contentedly and snuggling closer. He grimaces, glad she can't currently see his face. Luckily, he's saved from having to linger too much on her, as Tristan and Isolde take that moment to appear once again.

"Oh, Guinevere, you're back! Lance said you would be back before we were, but I was worried when he mentioned it being a business call." Isolde admits to the woman at his side.

"Oh, it was nothing, everything is fine now." Guinevere waves her hand in front of her with an air of nonchalance.

Lance stops focusing on the women's interaction as he finally gives in to his urge that's almost instinct by now to look at Tristan. Tristan, who currently appears to be burning holes into Guinevere's arm with his eyes, glaring directly at where her arm is looped with his. Oh. Jealousy was not something seen often on the prince, but Lance is just now realizing that it is a very good look on him. Especially when it's about Lance himself.

Tristan must've felt Lance's eyes on him because his multi-colored eyes were suddenly meeting bright red. Lance's breath hitched. He was suddenly pinned by the hot spark in those green and blue irises of his. Something had changed, had finally shifted in this long game of theirs. He knew right then that tonight would be different. He didn't know how yet, but he was excited to find out, and he made sure to hold his realization and how he felt about it into his expression, with a hint of questioning. The silver-haired prince shook his head with a quick wink, just the tiniest of movements that no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it. 'Not right now, you'll see.' Is what he was saying. Lance gave a nod in acknowledgement, another barely there movement, and smirked. Tristan is the only reason he really even continues to come here and he never disappoints, not that Lance has ever expected him to.

"So," Tristan speaks up then, clearly having paid enough attention to the other conversation happening to know when to interrupt. "Shall we head up to the lounge? It's so much easier to talk privately up there." He suggests, looking away from Lance and between the pinkette and brunette.

"Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea." Guinevere says, already getting up with her drink in hand. Lance follows suit as Isolde chimes her own agreement and the four of them head up the club's spiral stairs, the prince and princess leading the way and Lance swears that Tristan is swaying his hips slightly. Gods, he'll be the absolute death of me, Lance groans inwardly.

They enter one of the VIP lounges, the one they enter completely empty except for the bartender at the bar in the back of the room. Lance orders a second drink as the other three go sit down and he walks over to join them soon ever. When he reaches the table that they chose, he freezes for a moment. The place that was picked to sit at was a round, single booth with two spaces to enter it. On Lance's right, he could easily sit down right next to Guinevere, just like he always does, just like he should. But next to Guinevere is Isolde and next to Isolde is Tristan with an open spot right next to him and for a split second, Lance genuinely considers turning to the left and sitting next to the prince. But he catches himself and dutifully takes the spot to the right.

As he slides into his seat and places an arm across the top of the booth behind Guinevere's head, he looks to Tristan with nothing but a deep longing, finding the same emotion reflected back at him. He swallows and turns away from him, afraid he might do something stupid if he continues looking at him in that moment.

"So, Isolde? What's all this exciting news you guys have to tell us?" Lance asks as he looks at her, an eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his drink. He notices out of the corner of his eyes that Guinevere also turns to her as she leans into his side again. He forces himself not to shift away from her.

Isolde suddenly gives out a quiet squeal. "Okay! So," She looks at Tristan for a moment before turning back to them, Lance watching as the positions of the prince and princess mirror almost exactly Lance and Guinevere's. But he doesn't think much of it as Isolde continues talking. "Tristan and I have finally gotten a date for the wedding figured out!!" She exclaims happily, positively beaming. Guinevere gasps and shares in Isolde's excitement, the two women taking a moment to ramble together.

Tristan gives out a low chuckle and Lance turns to him again, something off about the sound that escaped him. The prince seems tense, his expression tight, and it becomes clear to the blonde that his chuckle wasn't born out of any kind of amusement, though it could easily appear that way to the two others in their party, as they were barely paying him any attention in this moment. Lance's brows furrow, a slight tilt of his head asking Tristan what his reaction was for. Yeah, so they figured out a date for the wedding already. Not ideal for Tristan, he was sure, but-

"Yes!" The fakest smile he had ever seen to date plasters itself across the prince's face. "August 28th." He states. "Of this year." And right there was the answer to Lance's question. Four months. Tristan and Isolde were getting married in four months. The public had only known them to be engaged for three.

"Ohhh, an end of summer wedding will be beautiful." Guinevere says in awe.

"Oh, won't it?" Isolde coos, her hands clasping in front of her.

"In just four months, huh? That's a lot sooner than I would've expected." Lance pipes up, his eyes not having left Tristan's at all yet.

"Yes, well, Isolde just couldn't wait any longer." Tristan states. "And apparently neither could my parents. August was supposed to be a completely unavailable month. But upon hearing that August was ideal over September or November, he completely canceled all matters of business for the month. That way we could have "the pick of the lot", he said." Tristan spat out, his words getting colder as he continued, and this time it didn't seem to be for a reason that he cared to hide.

Lance's suspicions were confirmed when Isolde spoke up next. "Oh, Tristan, cut your father some slack. I know you were excited for that trip, but your father just wants to help us in any way he can." She tells him, her voice on the verge of scolding. The tone made Lance almost scoff.

Tristan looked down at Isolde with a much softer expression than he had just a moment before and smiles at her. "You're right as always, I'm sorry. Forgive my thoughtlessness." And then the prince lays a soft kiss on the princess' lips, and the young nobleman has to look away quickly at the sight. Lance takes a long drink from his glass as he surveys the rest of the lounge outside of their booth, seeing it still empty as it was before. He's about to excuse himself for a moment, needing some air, when he's stopped from doing so.

"Isolde, do you mind if I talk to Lancelot privately for awhile? Most of the rest of your announcements have to do with the wedding more than anything else and Guinevere seems a lot more interested in those details than Lance does. Plus, I feel like I should finally get to know a bit more about the man. His father is practically my uncle and yet I feel I've barely spent any time with Lancelot himself." Tristan explains to his fiance, looking at her with casual questioning.

Isolde smiles at him, believing his explanation entirely. "Of course!" Suddenly she lights up even more. "Oh! Anne should be here soon, too! Guin, have you met Anne yet? You would absolutely love her!" Isolde gushes as she looks to the brunette.

Guinevere shakes her head. "Oh, I don't think so, but if she's a friend of yours, then I have no doubt that we'll get along." She states warmly. Isolde beams at her as Tristan exits the booth to let Isolde out and Lance follows his lead, letting Guinevere out. Isolde and Tristan share a peck on the lips and Lance turns to Guinevere to do the same, knowing she'll expect it.

"Take your time, don't rush, okay? I want you to have fun with your friends. We are here for that purpose, after all." Tristan points out to Isolde.

Isolde grins and throws her arms around him in a quick hug and for a moment, the smile on Tristan's face is back to being genuine, obvious affection on his face for the woman before him. Just not the kind that it's supposed to be. "Thank you. Have fun with your new friend, Trist." Isolde says before turning and looping her arm with Guinevere's, dragging her away as the brunette waves at Lance as she goes. Once the two of them have left the lounge and headed down the stairs to go meet up with Anne, Lance turns back to the booth, seeing Tristan already sitting once again. Lance sits back down as well, both of them choosing spots that allow them to be exactly across from each other.

They both stay silent for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, both seeming to be in quiet contemplation. Then Tristan breaks the silence first. "So, when are you and your fiancé going to make an announcement? The public doesn't even know that you two are engaged yet." He points out.

Ah, yes. His fiancé. Not by his own choice, of course. He doesn't have a single romantic notion towards her. In fact, he doesn't really have any platonic ones towards her, either. Guinevere is too arrogant for her own good and has way too big an ego, not to mention her whole I-know-everything attitude. It's all just a big turn off for him. But he's stuck with her. For now, at least. She's the person that his parents chose for him. Just like Isolde is the one that Tristan's parents chose for him. Some people have said recently that arranged marriages are way too old school and going out of style, but in reality, they're just as common now as they were 200 years ago.

"I'm not an actor like you, Prince Tristan." Lance tells him with a wry smile. "Guinevere is well aware that I'm not in love with her and she doesn't want to start up the wedding process until I do fall in love with her, because, apparently, she's absolutely certain that I will eventually."

Tristan tilts his head to the side slightly. "And how do you know that I'm acting with Isolde?" He asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him and he chuckles softly. "Considering you look at me in ways I've never once seen you even consider looking at her, I'd say you're more likely to be in love with me than with her."

Tristan's eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth and Lance's do, too, once his own words register in his mind. That right there was territory neither of had even dared go into before. There's never been any communication of feelings besides lust, passion, and curiosity. There couldn't be any romance between the two, could there? He was frozen, unsure how to recover from his own suggestion.

"Well. You certainly are observant, that's for sure." The silverette seems to have recovered faster than him, though his voice is much softer than it was before.

The topic switch definitely helps. Lance locks eyes with him, pouring every ounce of want he has for the man into his eyes without a single bit of shame or hesitation. "Yes, but you already know that, don't you?" Flashes run through his mind of all the times they've checked each other out or sent silent flirtations towards each other.

From the way Tristan bites his lip, he's thinking of the same thing. But instead of replying, he slides further into the booth, until he's in the middle of the half circle. He pats the spot right beside him. "Come over here." He orders.

Lance hesitates for a moment. Not because he doesn't want to be closer to Tristan. He knows that once he moves closer, it'll be the turning point of whatever this is between them. All of this is completely new. As he noticed before, he makes note of it again. Something is different about tonight. And he has a feeling he's about to find out exactly what it is. But he hangs back a little longer. It's like when a roller coaster reaches the top but then stops for just those extra few seconds, building up the anticipation so that you feel it just that tiniest bit more when the ride finally dips and takes the drop down. And it seems his decision was the right one.

When Lance doesn't immediately come over to him, Tristan bows his head down slightly, then looks back up at Lance through his lashes, an almost shy look on his face. "Please?" The single word comes out as half whisper, half purr and Lance suddenly feels the need to adjust himself. Fuck.

Lance slides across the booth until he's right beside the prince, only about an inch of space between their bodies. He's tense now. He doesn't know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. Eventually he decides to just place them on the table in front of him. He left his drink across the table, so he just lays his hands flat on the dark wood. Then Tristan places his hand on top of Lance's and he startles slightly, sucking in a deep breath at the contact. He can hear Tristan's breath hitch beside him and he knows that he must've felt it, too. The bolt of lightning that struck through to the very core of his being as soon as their skin connected. But Tristan continues despite it.

"Just take a second to relax, okay?" He says casually in a low voice. And then he starts moving his hand across Lance's wrist and over his arm slowly, causing Lance to do the opposite of relax. It felt like electricity was coursing throughout his entire arm, spreading out from where Tristan's hand was. He watches with wide eyes as the silverette's hand reaches the crook of his elbow and starts making it's way up.

"Relax, remember?" Is whispered into his ear as he feels the slight brush of hair against his cheek. He closes his eyes as his whole body shudders.

He tries his best to follow the instruction, urging his body to relax against the seat. Then Tristan changes the position of his hand slightly, pressing the tips of his nails against Lance's shirt and then lightly dragging them against the skin over his collarbone and Lance melts. His head falls back against the top of the cushion behind him and bites his lip as the other man's palm presses flat to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, sliding up the side of his neck and over his collarbone, until his hand finally stops, resting gently against Lance's cheek. The electricity has followed his hands path, leaving a pleasant burn in it's wake, every part of him that's been touched feeling so warm.

He slowly opens his eyes as he sits back up, looking at Tristan. The prince has a look of pure awe on his face as he stares at him, as if something Lance just did has absolutely amazed him. Lance reaches up and threads his fingers into some of the hair at the top of the prince's head and runs them through it gently. Tristan's eyes flutter closed and he hums, a pleased sound. Once his fingers reach the tips of his long hair, he brings his hand back up and mimics what Tristan did, his hand curved around his cheek. When Tristan opens his eyes again, the blue and green in them is barely visible with how wide his pupils are blown.

"Lance." He whispers, his voice shaking slightly now. "I don't exactly know what it is going on between us. What all these feelings are and what they'll lead to. I know that I want you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anybody or anything in my entire life. But," He brings his free hand up to wrap around the wrist of the hand Lance has on his face, tracing small circles into his skin with his thumb. "I feel like it's something more than that. Like even if I finally have you, I won't be able to let you go." He admits, giving Lance that same shy look as before, but with a hint of fear in it this time. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

Lance swallows before answering. "I think I know what you mean." Is all he whispers back. He has his own theories of what it all was, but he isn't sure he's ready to confront that just yet. Tristan runs his eyes over Lance's face a few times, like he's searching for something. Then they lock eyes once again and Lance suddenly realizes that it's not Tristan's voice that's shaky. Tristan himself is trembling. Before Lance can question him, he speaks up again.

"I don't know what it is," A fierce determination sparks in his eyes and Lance is both surprised and entranced by it. "But I want to." He says just barely above his breath. "I want to-" He cuts himself off, like he's afraid of what was about to come out of his mouth.

"What is it?" Lance asks him. "What do you want to do?" He brings his other hand up to cup Tristan's other cheek gently, looking at him pleadingly. Somewhere deep down, he knew exactly what the prince wanted, because he wanted it, too, but he needed to hear him say it first.

Tristan leans into his touch and lets out a sound close to a whimper. "I want to find out together. You and I. We could do it, you know. Because you were right. Of course you were. Isolde has never been anything more than a sister to me, a friend. I hate the idea of marrying her and everything that's meant to come with it. Tomorrow, I can break things off with her. Tell my parents that there's someone else. I don't care how mad they get at me. And then you and I, we can take this however far it goes, as long as you do the same. We can make our own choices for once instead of just always doing what everyone else wants us to." His own eyes are pleading now and the fear is even more evident. Lance realizes that the fear is of rejection. That his proposal will be brushed off and turned away from.

"And what would your choice be, Prince Tristan?" He asks, his own voice trembling.

"As of right now, my choice would be you, Sir Lancelot." Tristan says with certainty.

"What if I don't want that?" Lance asks him. Not because he's considering no. Not at all. Only because he's curious as to what the alternative is.

Tristan leans in slightly, taking his hand from Lance's wrist and reaching up to run a thumb down his temple and over his cheekbone before his hand lands on his jaw and stays there. "Then we won't continue this any further. I couldn't handle doing anything more if you don't want the same as me. But it's your choice. Kiss me right now and I'm yours. Walk away from me right now and we'll never be this close again, everything we've been doing will stop."

Lance looks at him. The answer was clear as soon as the idea left Tristan's pretty pink lips. Leave Guinevere and the stupid arranged marriage behind in order to pursue Tristan and see where the feelings between them go? It wasn't even a question. Lance gives him a grin. "Stupid of you to think that I could ever walk away from you." He tells him. And then Lance is crashing his lips against Tristan's.

~*~

A/N: So, how is it so far??? Did you guys like it?? Cause I honestly loved writing this. I love these boys sm and this AU was really fun to come up with. You guys will get the rest tomorrow!!! Please, lemme know all your thoughts on this!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Love y'all 💜💜💜

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