Disclaimer: If I owned Robin Hood, the whole of the series would be filmed beneath the one tree in my backyard.

“So it’s you and me again. Just like old times.” Much said quietly, smiling at Robin in a way that made the outlaw’s cheek warm.

They took off running, following the scant tracks left by the sheriff. With the sun on his face and the wind in his hair, Much at his side, it was hard to be as worried as Robin knew he should be. It really was like old times, they could have been children again, running full speed down a hill to tumble at the bottom and land in a heap, hearts pounding in tandem, laughing weakly, sun-bronzed skins barely a hairsbreadth apart.

Robin caught Much’s eye, and smiled at the man, wondering if Much’s thoughts were similar to his. The answering wink answered his question, and Robin laughed aloud, before stumbling over a discarded pair of boots.

“Sheriff’s, no doubt.” Much said firmly.

“You’re right, Much. They’ve got his cobbler’s mark on the heel.” Robin agreed in delight. “We’re catching up.”

He clapped Much on the back, his fingers moving upwards, almost of their own accord, to tangle into Much’s golden hair, trail across the soft nape of his neck. Their eyes met, exchanging promises for later, for when the sheriff had been returned to Nottingham, and they could steal a few moments alone, away from camp and prying eyes.

They stood simultaneously, and Robin started off, tightening his grip on his bow, when Much’s voice rang out, words that stopped him dead in his tracks.

“That ring you gave Marian.”

Robin paused, looking downwards. He’d put off this moment as long as possible, somehow hoping that he’d not have to be the one to look Much in the eyes, and tell him that their elicit romance would have to end.

“Giving jewelry now. Marian must have been astonished, probably expected you to propose.”

Robin scuffed his foot in the dirt, before squinting into the sun and admitting, “I did. And she said yes.”

He heard Much’s gasp of surprise, half pleasure and half shock, and winced, before turning around.

“Much—”

“Oh, Robin.” Much said softly. “I’m so proud of you. Congratulations. That’s incredible.”

Robin looked at him, and it was only because he knew Much’s face as well as his own, better than his own, to be honest, that he caught the anguish in Much’s eyes. Much’s heart was breaking, breaking very quietly, but still. The pain was there, and Robin, who’d long since memorized every inch of Much’s face, could see it as clearly as if it’d been written there in red ink.

But before he could say anything, try to explain, Much drew him into a hug.

Words had never really come easy to the pair of them. They’d been through enough together that words had somehow become unnecessary, more trouble than they were worth. While Much was prone to rambling needlessly, and Robin may be prone to barking orders unnecessarily, all the important things, everything they needed to tell each other, were communicated soundlessly. A glance, a lingering touch, the way Much would brush Robin’s hair out of his eyes, spoon a little extra stew into his bowl. It was in the cold mornings when Robin would wake to find Much’s blanket laid over him, in addition to his own blanket, and Much sitting by the fire, warming his hands as his breath puffed white into the frosty air.

Robin loved this man, more than he’d ever thought possible. But loving Much didn’t produce heirs, and Marian...Marian had been his destiny since Robin had been in the cradle. Robin knew that Much had always understood that, but it most likely didn’t lessen the pain of this moment.

So instead of polluting the air with useless words, Robin held Much close, pressing his lips to Much’s neck, tangling his fingers in his best friend’s hair, humming their lullaby softly. The lullaby that his father had sung to them when they’d lain in cradles together. The lullaby that Much had whispered when they’d lain together in the Holy Land, foreheads touching, inhaling and exhaling in tandem.

“Master.” Much whispered, his breath hot on Robin’s ear, and the outlaw shivered in pleasure. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

“As I wish for you, my friend.” Robin replied, then kissed Much fiercely on the lips.

They lingered in each other’s arms for a moment, then Robin broke away. Robin always pulled away first, Much thought wryly, as his master skittered away to snatch his bow from the ground.

“Come on, Much!” He turned, a brilliant smile on those perfect lips. “We’ll have caught up with the sheriff in no time, if we keep up this pace.”

Much chuckled, skimming his eyes up and down Robin’s body before saying, “Yes, and then perhaps we could go for a swim and rinse the sweat out of these clothes? I don’t know about you, Master, but I don’t fancy smelling as if I’ve only a nodding acquaintance with a bar of soap.”

Robin laughed, before taking Much’s hand in his own.

“Much, I’ll wash the sweat off you myself, granted we find the sheriff before sundown.”

Before Robin could skitter away again, Much pulled him close and tenderly kissed his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, before releasing him. Robin smiled tenderly at him, then dashed off toward the trees, following the trail that they’d found.

“I love you, Master.” He said softly. “Even if it will bring me nothing but pain, I love you.”

“Come on, Much!” Robin’s voice came echoing back. “I can’t very well track the sheriff all on my own!”

Much chuckled, and took off after Robin, and they raced each other through the trees, over streams, stopping every so often to check the trail, steal a kiss.

“You know...maybe, when you and Marian are married, and taken care of...I’ll come back to the forest.” Much said thoughtfully, trailing a few steps behind Robin, as the outlaw stooped to check the tracks.

“A lone outlaw...” Much’s voice trailed off. Robin’s knuckles were clenched white around his bow, but he said nothing.

“I mean, it’s not like you’ll need me around anymore...after you’re married, and all.” His voice was soft, but it carried, and Much could tell Robin heard from the way the muscles in his back tensed.

“Tell your grand plans to the sun, Much. Maybe it’ll tarry a moment to listen. We’re running out of time.”

“Robin—”

“Let’s go.” He said, turning to cast an anguished look at Much before taking off into the brush.

Much sighed, and followed him, the sting of rejection vibrating through him for the second time that day. The sun was slipping lower in the sky, and Robin was miles ahead of him, and he was fighting the urge to sob. It was as if the separation between them was beginning now, as opposed to his wedding day. Wondering what use there was in delaying the inevitable, Much slowed to a stop, and Robin was almost out of sight before turned to stare at him in surprise. Never, in all the time they’d known each other, had Much stopped without so much as a word to Robin. He’d always called for Robin to slow down a moment, and Robin had always gladly altered his pace to keep Much at his side. Yet Much’s expression was desolate as he gazed at Robin.

“Just leave me behind, I’m slowing you down.” He said sadly, and looked away, mentally calculating the distance to camp, and what supplies were left for him to fashion a proper meal out of.

Robin’s jaw jutted out stubbornly as he regard Much.

“No, Much. I’m not just leaving you!” His voice rose passionately.

“Oh, don’t worry about me—” Much began, taking a step backwards.

Robin moved quickly, and grabbed Much, catching hold of his belt with one hand, and moving the other to rest behind Much’s neck. He rested his forehead against Much’s, reveling in the feel of skin on skin.

“Newsflash, Much, I like worrying about you.” He whispered huskily. He dropped a gentle kiss on Much’s lips, and then pulled back.

“Now, come on, we’ve got to find the sheriff.” His eyes shone bright, and Much laughed.

Robin darted away, his movements identical to those of their childhood, and Much felt hope flutter in his chest. Whatever Marian was, whatever she may be to Robin, Much had the both the best and worst of him, and that was enough to withstand anything life may throw at them.

With a whoop, he fell into step beside his master, catching Robin’s hand as they drew even, and he could have sworn that even their pulses were beating in time.