Les ménages du Sanctuaire Chapter 1: Vodka does wonders against heartaches, a saint seiya fanfic

FR: Bonjour à tous! Bienvenue sur ce petit mélange de drabbles bilingues sans prétention ayant pour fandom Saint Seiya. Chacun d'entre eux (d'où moins, au moment ou je poste ceci) est issu d'un ask meme demandé sur mon blog Tumblr. Le challenge de ce drabble et de celui qui suit (respectivement un Milo/Camus en anglais et un Saga/Mu en français) était de construire un écrit court sur un couple donné autour d'une simple phrase qui devait faire partie du drabble. J'espère que mon explication à du sens, et enjoy le premier drabble (en anglais pour le moment - je pourrais le traduire sous demande, bien sûr -) tourné autour de Milo et Camus et ayant comme phrase imposée: "I just really need to have you here right now." que je n'ai malheureusement pas réussi à inclure mot pour mot, et qui a donc été légèrement transformée. A la revoyure!

EN: Hello everyone! Welcome to this bilingual drabble mash-up for the Saint Seiya fandom. Each one of them (at least for now, as I'm posting this chapter) comes from an ask meme on my Tumblr blog. The challenge of this drabble and the following one (a Milo/Camus in english and a Saga/Mu written in french) was to come up with a short story on an imposed pairing, and to build it around a single sentence that had to be included in the drabble itself. I sincerely hope I made sens in my explanation and enjoy the first drabble centered around Milo and Camus, around the sentence "I just really need to have you here right now.". Unfortunately, I didn't manage to include it as it is in the story and had to change it a bit. See y'all!

"I just really need to have you here right now."

It was one of these numerous cold winter nights during which Milo, guardian of Athena's eighth temple, couldn't find sleep. Remaining in his bed would have only leaded him to grow frustrated and he therefore decided to head outside to catch some fresh air, as if it could help him in any way. He knew he was condemned to mindlessly roam around Sanctuary at least until the bravest Saints (aka: just a few in times of peace) came down their temple to train in the main arena. But that was still a few hours away and Milo had yet to find what he could possibly do to kill time.

He suddenly walked into a pillar and audibly cursed out the architecture of the Holy Land as he massaged his painful forehead, trying to find his bearings and soon enough, he noticed the all-too-familiar two waves orning the top of the facade of the temple he was facing, and he let out his second curse of the night, this time directed towards himself and his stupid habits.

So, he was in front of Camus' temple somehow. After almost a whole week of avoiding it like the plague, following probably the most violent dispute between the two friends/lovers/soumates/Athena herself wouldn't even know what the two of them were supposed to be. Oh, if one was to ask Milo about this argument's reason, he would simply justify himself and his actions with a "I am not a forgiving person." and honestly, he truly wasn't. Deep down though, he knew his reactions concerning the so-called treason of his three brother-in-arms were way over the top, but he simply couldn't control himself. He understood why they'd all done that, but he just couldn't bring himself to forgive them fully. Yet he was still standing in front of the eleventh temple, torn between wanting to go on and leave the place to ignore its guardian for another week or dare enter and ask for a pourparler. And finally, after a few minutes of inner debating, he chose to pass through the seemingly empty temple to get to the baths at the thirteenth's house, or at least that's what he tried to convince himself he was doing once he started moving towards the Aquarius temple.

One thing Milo was certain of from the second he set a foot in the building was Camus' presence in its private area and that his cosmos was not one of a sleeping man. In short, there was no way he could go past him without being noticed and possibly stopped from going any further. At that thought, the Scorpio Saint tried his hardest not to be glad this scenario was a possibility. If he were to be sincere with his feelings, he would probably go on about how much he missed the magician of water and ice – but of course, his pride would get in the way and deny him that thirst he's been dealing with for the past few days to just fall asleep in the same bed as the Aquarius Saint.

However, as he finally started proceeding through the temple, nothing came up to interrupt him. Or more precisely, no one. Nothing, but maybe a gush of fresh air seemingly pushing him towards the exit of the place, as if he was wanted out. Which he probably was, judging from the situation. But Milo was a stubborn person and he changed his plans, making them go from 'I am going to take a long, silent midnight bath in the thermaes. Alone.' to 'I want to see Camus. Right now. Even if he ends up punching me in the face or freezing me in an ice coffin.' just because of what could have been wind.

Soon enough, he stomped towards the door leading to the private part of the zodiacal house and merely hesitated on the door knob before stepping in.

Camus was there, barely noticeable due to the dim light of his living room with what seemed to be an empty glass in his hand (and from what Milo could see from his spot, it seemed like it was previously filled with alcohol coming from the half empty bottle sitting on the coffee table) while his other hand was lost in his red mass of his hair. The expression on his face was hidden but Milo could just feel that Camus was not doing okay. His defeated position, his clothes being a mess, the alcohol on the table, nothing felt like Camus at this very instant. It was too wrong to possibly be Camus, at least in Milo's mind. He didn't realize he had not moved from the doorstep when the silence gracing the temple up until then was broken.

"Leave this temple, Milo." Came out the voice of the eleventh guardian, barely stronger than a whisper, sounding painfully shaky to the Greek. "Please."

Milo, being himself, took a few steps towards the Aquarius Saint, slow enough not to push Camus into a defensive reaction, and managed to reach the couch the Frenchman was slouching on. He didn't get to get any closer as his companion jerked his head to glare at him before slamming his glass down on the table (that would definitely leave a mark, Milo allowed himself to note) and jumping onto his feet, probably in a intent to throw him out.

Now, it could have worked without the few shots of low grade vodka running through Camus' veins. Unfortunately, if his speech pattern was not any different from when he was sober, his body seemed to simply want to drift to sleep and disconnect iself from reality for the next few hours. So, as fast as Camus had risen up to his feet, he'd tripped down and would have knocked himself out of the corner of the coffee table if it wasn't for Milo's reflexes, that'd let the younger Greek grab his lover before his face embraced the wooden surface.

"Yeah I think you've had enough for the rest of the month, drunktard."
"I am alright, just – just -"
"Completely drunk, come on. I'll take you to ou – your room and you'll get some sleep before you start singing some obscure french song."

With that (and grumbling on Camus' side), the eighth guardian wrapped an arm around his companion's torso and made him wrap his own around his neck so they could walk together without too much trouble until the both of them fell on the mattress and remained lying down next to each other silently for a few minutes. It took some effort for Milo to check the time ('2:47, huh.') and even more for him to sit up and get back onto his feet with the decision to go and leave his drunken boyfriend alone (and come back later during the day to pursue whatever make up conversation they began this night) to finish his night in his own bed, a thousand stairs below.

"I'm going back to my temple, you gotta rest. I'll come back tomorrow and shake you awake if you're not up at 10, haha-"
"Stay here."

Shifted into a sitting position, Camus was staring at Milo (something that he normally never did, but alcohol truly creates miracles sometimes) and was leaning on the headboard of the bed to keep himself from slipping back down. He somehow still managed to keep his attention on Milo, seriously making him question if alcohol had any effects on the Aquarius' thought process.

"I know I'm not making any sense and that I'm definitely in for a terrible headache when I wake up tomorrow but," Camus stopped himself for a second, as if he were trying to find his words or a way to mush them all together into a correct sentence, "but I guess it wouldn't be as terrible if you're here when I wake up."

Milo could only smile at this small but efficient drunken confession and claim back his spot on the bed to be able to reach over and wrap a strand of red hair around his finger: "Y'know, a simple 'I just want you here right now.' would have been enough."
"I'm drunk," tried to argue the Aquarius Saint, mumbling.
"Oh I know that, that's the most talkative you've been in a few years."
"Va te faire foutre."

The kiss that followed sure was a bit sloppy (and Camus had ended up slipping down again) but it didn't make it any less enjoyable for the both of them.