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Fireweed 1/2

Hi! I'm back with my stupid allergic guys! Happy spring!

Summary: 4.3k words. OC enemies to lovers M/M. Bellamy and Nass go camping. Both sneeze. Prince Bellamy discovers a new allergy.

TW: Sneezing fit while driving. Light mess.

My Ko-fi is linked here. If you enjoy my content and feel called to offer something, it is deeply appreciated. Either way, thank you to everyone who reads and enjoys this universe. <3

Part two will be very spicy. But for now, enjoy the buildup ;)

Authors note: Yekitiverse is a magical OC universe inspired by the culture/relationship between Spain and Morocco. It takes place akin to our early 20th century. So there are cars and technology but society is in a transitional stage.

***

“I don’t like this,” Nass complains as he helps Bellamy shove a rolled-up tent into the back of their rental car.

“Only rich people would willingly sleep outside on thin blankets,” Nass grumbles.

He rubs absently at his lower back, like his body remembers too well the years he and Marwa shared a mattress so thin it may as well have been the floor. The best their parents could afford at the time.

“I will make you like camping. I am sure of it.” Bellamy says neatly folding both of their jackets and setting it into the trunk.

“Doubtful,” Nass snorts, though he’s grinning.

“Well,” Bellamy pauses, bringing his hand to rest on the small of Nass’s back. He squeezes, his breath hot against Nass’s neck. “At the very least, I’m sure you’ll enjoy what I plan to do to you in complete privacy.”

Now that got Nass packing up the rest of the car in no time.

The university had a long weekend and for the first time in the history of them knowing each other, neither of them had anywhere to be. No royal obligations, exams, or illness. And the weather was perfect.

It was finally spring in central province, all warm wind and red weeds beginning to bloom along the highways and city streets. Bellamy had suggested a two-night camping trip in the Aylean Woods — three hours from the city, isolated enough that no one would bother them.

Nass knows Bellamy loves being in nature. The prince practically wilted if he spent too long trapped inside. And selfishly, the thought of having Bellamy entirely to himself for three uninterrupted days made Nass’s stomach flutter.

Their relationship had been going well — really well — the past few weeks.

Which honestly terrified him a little.

A few days ago, Nass had accidentally overheard Bellamy on the phone through his bedroom door.

“I sort of have a boyfriend I think,” he’d heard. “A Southerner.”

Nass had nearly dropped the tea he was holding.

“He hates the North,” Bellamy continued, deep voice muffled through his bedroom door. “It’s complicated. But he really likes me. Well, actually he says he loves me.”

Nass’s throat had gone dry at that.

There’d been a pause.

“You can’t meet him, Jorge. I c-can’t bring him to our village.” Bellamy said finally, tone flattening in that careful way it always did when he was upset. “He’d freak out.”

Nass had stood frozen in the hallway staring at the wall.

“I know it’s probably a bad idea,” Bellamy said, an air of finality to his voice. “But when has anything in my life ever been easy?”

The entire conversation had lodged itself beneath Nass’s ribs ever since. Half butterflies and half dread.

Nass had never had a boyfriend before. Just messy hookups in the back of clubs or in cramped dorm rooms.

Now he was dating the prince of Yekiti.

He wants to meet people from Bellamy’s past. He wants to see Bellamy’s home. And he sure doesn’t want to freak out or be a bad idea.

He wants to prove to Bellamy he’s easy to be with. Even if the idea of stepping foot in Northern province — hearing their language everywhere, seeing Northern soldiers like the one that killed his mother— makes nausea curl in his stomach.

And who the hell was Jorge anyway? Bellamy had never mentioned him. Or anyone from his past really.

But this weekend he’s determined to find out more.

“Did you pack your tincture for motion sickness?" Bellamy asks as he slides into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, I packed it. And took some already.” Nass drops into the passenger seat. Being in cars, boats, trains — any form of transportation really — always made him horribly motion sick. It was incredibly embarrassing and inconvenient. “I don’t travel without itt — Hih’Gnxt’Shuu!”

The sneeze pitches him forward.

Ugh. He sniffles thickly rubbing at his tickling nose.

“And your allergy tincture?” Bellamy asks as he starts the car. “In case that continues?”

A smile tugs at Nass’s mouth. Bellamy’s concern is sweet. Ridiculously sweet.

“I have it,” he says, flipping on the radio. His hay fever is significantly worse in the early fall, but the pollen levels have been so high this week it’s affecting him even now in early spring.

Yesterday Bellamy had noticed Nass sniffling halfway through first period and had disappeared to the apothecary before lunch to buy him allergy tincture.

Bellamy notices everything.

“Good,” Bellamy pulls onto the main road as Nass settles onto a Southern radio channel.

“Where did you learn to drive?” Nass leans back into the cushiony leather seat.

He’s somehow unsurprised that Bellamy knows how to drive. He’s learned by now Bellamy knows how to do most things, despite living half his life as a prince.

Nass himself, just learned how to drive last year. Only the wealthiest Yekitians owned cars and in the South transit was still mainly camel or horse.

“I got lessons when I was a teenager,” Bellamy says, as he merges onto a main road. “I never liked my father’s staff doing things for me.”

Bellamy doesn’t seem comfortable with anyone doing anything for him, but Nass doesn’t say this.

“Why do you never speak of your friends from the North?” Nass asks, watching as Bellamy pulls sunglasses over his light eyes. “Did you not have any?”

“You really think my social skills to be so poor, Nass?” Bellamy raises an eyebrow, but Nass can tell he’s teasing.

“Of course I have friends.” Bellamy says. “You saw one of my friends in fact. Camille.”

A sharp stab of jealousy hits Nass instantly.

Camille’s hands in Bellamy’s curls flashes through his head. Bellamy kissing her under the red lights of Hookah’s Sex Lounge.

“She didn’t look like your friend that night at the sex club,” Nass says flatly.

Bellamy chuckles at Nass’s tone. “Camille is a very good friend.” He continues. “After I moved to the palace and had to go to private school, she was one of the only people who dared to socialize with me.”

“Why?” Nass frowns.

His fingers tighten slightly against the steering wheel.

“My brother did not take kindly to suddenly discovering he had a secret half sibling threatening his future throne. At school he made it very clear that speaking to me would have consequences.”

Nass feels immediate disgust crawl up his spine. Jason Velaquez being a bully as a teenager is the least surprising thing he’s heard all month.

“Camille was never afraid of him,” Bellamy continues. “Her father is a trusted palace advisor. So Jason had no real power over her. Though he certainly tried.”

“And then?” Nass presses.

Bellamy gives a small shrug. “Eventually we dated for a few years. But Camille is not a mage and has no interest in living anywhere but the North.”

He doesn’t elaborate further. He doesn’t need to.

“And your friends from before you were a prince? From the orphanage?” Nass asks. He can’t even imagine it. To Bellamy, that time must feel like a past life.

Bellamy’s jaw tightens. Nass thinks he isn’t going to answer but then he does.

“Jorge and Amira,” he finally answers. “They are more like my family.”

Jorge. The person Bellamy was speaking to on the phone.

“Jorge was born with a degenerative illness and uses a wheelchair. Amira is albino. And I have the king’s eyes,” he waves at his face. “Invalids they called us. And so, we were never adopted. Though I suppose I was technically adopted by the king.”

Something twists painfully in Nass’s chest.

“You must miss them,” Nass comments.

“Very much,” Bellamy says quietly. “I don’t see them often.”

“Why not?” Nass frowns.

Bellamy goes still.

“Because I am the prince,” he says finally, voice clipped. “And my father forbids me and my brother to associate with invalids.”

The words are so cruel Nass almost thinks he misheard them.

Bellamy sniffles softly, rubbing at his nose with the back of his wrist.

“And if anyone saw us together and word got back to the palace,” he continues, “it could make their lives… difficult. So, when I do see them I must be very discreet.”

Silence settles heavily between them.

Nass stares out the window, throat tight. He can’t imagine being forbidden from seeing Marwa. The thought alone makes him feel ill.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.” Bellamy clears his throat. “Anyway. It’s hot in here.”

He presses the button for the windows. Warm spring air immediately whips through the car, tangling Nass’s braids together.

The sharp scent of pine and something sweet he can’t exactly name hits him. Nass inhales, spraying his lap with an itchy and uncovered “Hih’Ttt’Shuuyiew!”

“Bless you,” Bellamy says. “Do you want to take your allergy tincture?”

Nass rubs his face. “No. It’ll only make me sleepy.”

“It will be a three-hour drive,” Bellamy says kindly. “It’s okay if you sleep.”

“That doesn’t make me a very good c-company — “Hih-EsshHUE!”,” Nass wrenches forward with the uncharacteristically loud sneeze, his seatbelt pulling against his chest.

He clears his throat that’s beginning to itch.

“You are good company awake or asleep, Nass,” Bellamy smiles. It’s almost shy.

The sincerity in his voice makes warmth spread through Nass’s chest so quickly it almost embarrasses him.

Maybe Bellamy is right.

Besides, even with the motion sickness tincture already in his system, the rolling highway has nausea beginning to churn low in his stomach.

With a sigh, Nass reaches into his bag, retrieves the allergy tincture, and lets a few bitter drops fall beneath his tongue before washing the awful herbal taste away with water.

After another forty five minutes and half a dozen sneezes later, both tinctures start to kick in. Nass leans back in his seat, letting the steady sound of the car and the drumming of Southern music lull him to sleep.

The next thing he knows, Nass is woken up to a thunderous “hHHh’DZZSSCHh—'uH-!” echoing through the car. He startles awake, neck aching from the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep in, just in time to see Bellamy snap forward with a second uncovered and equally loud “hh! H’uh! hih! IIESHHh'YEUh!”

It sprays all over the steering wheel, the mist sparkling in the sunlight. Bellamy sniffles, face twisted in irritation.

“Skies,” Nass struggles to sit up, “Bless you.”

“Sorry to wake you,” Bellamy pants, knuckling at his nose. Nass can see that his boyfriend had removed his sunglasses, blue eyes red and watering. “Gods, I couldn’t sth! Stifle anymore… hh! — “heH’SCHEUG’Hiih-!”

The car jerks slightly as Bellamy makes a right. He gives another irritated snuffle, his eyes glassy. “Can you check if there are any tissues in here?”

Nass doesn’t think there will be tissues anywhere in a rental car, but he checks anyway.

“Nothing,” he says, poking around the center console. “And I’ve told you many times you don’t need to stifle your sneezes, Bellamy. I don’t care if it wakes me up or —”

"Heh- hH’IYSChhiuEH!!” Bellamy interrupts as if his body agrees, a loose frizzy curl flying into his eyes from the force of it.

Bellamy mutters what Nass presumes is a curse in Northern tongue.

“Bless you,” Nass says, trying not to stare.

“Sorry,” Bellamy coughs. “I can’t stop sneezing for some reason.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Bellamy,” Nass blinks, growing flustered.

“Ugh,” he gives a stuffy sounding sniffle. “I think I should blow my nose. Do you have an extra handkerchief?”

Nass flushes, all of the blood in his body rushing to his pants. He blinks, adjusts his jeans against his erection then blinks again. Fuck why is Bellamy so hot, how can he say things like this and not have a clue what it does to him —

“N-Nass?” Bellamy asks. Shit. He must’ve have zoned out for a second longer than appropriate.

“Do you have one? We’re on this highway for a while and I don’t know where I can bu! Buy —h’IEGHkSsH’hue!!”

It sprays absolutely everywhere. The steering wheel, the dashboard, Nass even feels some of the mist settle on his arm.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Bellamy sniffles, sounding horrified.

That gets Nass’s attention away from his dick.

“No — shit — I’m sorry, yes I have an extra one,” he twists over towards the backseat, pulling the soft fabric out from the bottom of his backpack.

“Here.” He hands it out to him. “Do you want to pull over or —,”

“It’s fine,” Bellamy makes a face of brief disgust at using a handkerchief, but takes it anyway, calmly removing one hand off the wheel to blow his nose. The aftermath of the blowing wrestles another tickly sounding sneeze from him.

Bellamy groans.

“Bless you,” Nass squeezes his shoulder trying to sound normal. His erection is so stiff he’s nearly throbbing. “What’s setting you off? Hay fever?”

Bellamy always sneezes multiple times in a row so it could just be that. But his blue eyes look very red and irritated. Though as far as Nass knows, the only thing Bellamy is allergic to are cats.

“I — I don’t have hay fever,” Bellamy sniffles, sounding a little bewildered. “In fact, I spend most of the spring and summer outside.”

“You’re living in a new place,” Nass shrugs. “You could be allergic to something here that isn’t in the North. My seasonal allergies are way worse here than back home in the South.”

Bellamy shrugs at this, though he raises the crumpled handkerchief to his face to blow his nose again.

“How was your nap?” Bellamy asks, lowering the handkerchief onto his lap. He rubs at his nose with his wrist.

“Good,” Nass cracks his sore neck. “Are we almost there?”

He is suddenly very desperate to get there and take care of the… problem in his pants. Plus, he can tell they’re getting close. Huge old growth trees dot the sides of the highway, their gnarled roots woven in between flashes of bright red fireweed.

Bellamy nods at the map on the dashboard.

“In about thirty minutes,” he says with a punctuated sniff.

Nass leans back in his seat. Bellamy had changed the radio station, while he was sleeping. Soft Northern flute music blares through the speakers.

“You don’t like Southern music?” he asks, the question coming out a little defensive.

He itches to change the station back to the Southern channel, but he doesn’t. That would be incredibly rude and selfish. Besides, he started seeing a therapist a few weeks ago to work on his…issues with the North and she advised to him to stop and breathe before acting.

He takes a deep breath.

“Of course I do,” Bellamy’s answer comes out polite and diplomatic, just like everything Bellamy says.

“But I also enjoy the music of my people Nass.” Nass has spent enough time with Bellamy to hear the slight hardening in his voice.

And with that, he leans forward and increases the volume. And Nass would never say it out loud, but the Northern music isn’t so bad.

It’s good even.

He closes his eyes, listening to the sound of the flute and Bellamy humming along. He can’t tell how much time has passed, when the distinct sound of Bellamy sniffling has Nass opening his eyes at full attention again.

Bellamy’s right hand is off the steering wheel, scrubbing at the underside of his reddening nose. He has his sunglasses back on again, but Nass is willing to bet his eyes are probably just as irritated as his nose looks. He hears Bellamy take a shaky breath, then exhale.

“Bellamy,” Nass clears his throat. “You should close the windows. You’re clearly allergic to something and having the windows open is probably making it —,”

“AEHD’SSCHhy’uuh!" Bellamy gasps, splattering the steering wheel with an irritated sounding sneeze.

“Worse,” Nass says barely able to finish the word before Bellamy explodes with —

“hhiH’NGXTtS’suh! Hh! H-ih! “hH’EHGXST’huh! hh! ‘Ah! Heh — “hhK’IISCHhh’ue—hehh’TSSHH’yuuh! HeH—HhDJSCHhh’UH!”

The sneezes are so rapid that Nass doesn’t even hear him take a breath in between.

The car jerks. Trees flash past the windows in dizzying green smears.

Bellamy makes a strangled sound, shoulders hitching violently as he fights for air before his head helplessly snaps down again—

“Hh!—’NkTCHSH’Yue! —huhhh’He’EhSHhhueh!!”

The steering wheel slips beneath his hands.

With horror, Nass watches the car drift over the yellow line and into oncoming traffic.

“Bellamy—”

h’IEGHkSsH’hue!!” hh! Heh — EH’Mmphh’schu!-HEH’DZSSCHhhY’iuh!”!!”

A horn blares.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNkkkKK!!

The sound tears through the car so loudly Nass’s heart lurches into his throat.

A silver car tears past them in the opposite lane, missing the driver’s side by what feels like centimetres. Nass catches a flash of terrified faces through the window.

His stomach lurches violently.

“Bellamy!” Nass shouts, lunging forward and wrenching the steering wheel back into place. The movement jolts painfully through his shoulder. “Pull over!”

"hh! Heh — hhINtTSSZH’Y’ue!— ‘ah-AEHD’SSCHhy’uuh!!”

Bellamy gasps out, clearly unable to say anything at all. One hand is clamped over his nose and mouth now, the other hand white-knuckling the wheel.

Nass reaches across Bellamy, nearly climbing over the center console to flick on the turn signal just as another itchy "h’IEGHkSsH’hueY!” sprays across the side of Nass’s face.

Nass jerks the steering wheel hard, pulling them out of the lane and onto the shoulder of the road. Gravel explodes beneath their wheels. Another angry horn sounds somewhere behind them.

“Brake! Brake!” Nass yells over the sound of three more strangled sneezes.

Bellamy slams on the brakes hard enough to throw both of them forward against their seatbelts. The car skids unevenly before jolting to a stop.

Nass leans over, putting the car in park with shaking hands. For a second, he doesn’t move, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He blinks against a wave of nausea.

Gods, they almost got into an accident.

This is why his father and grandmother tell him not to mess with cars. Cars are not safe, they always say. Travelling the good old fashioned way by camel or horse is much safer and —

“hh! ehh’HTSSHH’Yueuh!” Nass blinks again, finally registering that Bellamy is still sneezing his head off. A miserable stuttered gasp from his lover gets him springing into action.

He shoves open the passenger door, grabs the allergy tincture and water bottle from the backseat, then rushes around the car and yanks open the driver’s side door.

Bellamy is still trapped in the seatbelt, sunglasses discarded, handkerchief crushed to his face as relentless sneeze after sneeze wracks through him.

“—AhehDTSSS’shuh! hhH! “hhh... hhAATCHSHhh’uye!!”

“Gods,” Nass mutters, fumbling with the buckle. “Come here.”

He drags Bellamy upright by the arm. Bellamy stumbles out of the car, disoriented, eyes streaming so badly he can barely keep them open.

“Here,” Nass presses the water bottle into his hands. “Wash your face.”

Bellamy leans against the hood of the car as he unscrews the lid, not hesitating as he dumps cool water over his eyes and nose with a shaky groan. Water drips from his curls, down the sharp line of his throat, soaking into the collar of his pressed green shirt.

Bellamy glances down at the soiled handkerchief in his other hand and makes a disgusted look. Instead, he lifts the hem of his linen shirt to scrub at his wet face.

Nass is so concerned the part of his brain that would otherwise be enjoying this has gone completely silent.

Instead, he watches helplessly as Bellamy pants from the exertion, bringing the water bottle to his lips for a few desperate sips. Then his lover’s face twists again, full lips parting as he lurches to the ground with another helpless and uncovered — “hh! hhK’IISCHhh’Yue!”

Bellamy swears under his breath, eyebrows pinched together in allergic frustration.

“Here,” Nass says quickly, unscrewing the allergy tincture. “Lean your head back. I’m giving you six drops instead of three, okay?”

Bellamy answers with another strangled sneeze, though this time it’s only one. The fit must finally be slowing.

Nass moves fast, tipping the herbal drops beneath Bellamy’s tongue.

He would never say this out loud to his boyfriend, unless he wished to horrify him to no end, but Bellamy’s nose was profusely running, watery rivulets running over his lips and down his chin.

“Here,” Nass says, softer now, pulling his own handkerchief from his pocket. “Use this.”

It’s slightly used, which is pretty unhygienic, but Nass supposed they’d swapped their fair share of bodily fluids by now. And clearly Bellamy must be feeling quite desperate because he does not hesitate at all before snatching the handkerchief out of Nass’s hand, burying his abused nose in the fabric with a relieved groan.

Nass gives him some privacy as Bellamy blows his nose. When he turns back, Bellamy is leaning heavily against the hood of the car, pinching the bridge of his nose between damp fingers. He’s taking slow breaths through parted lips between careful sips of water.

Thankfully, the sneezing finally seems to be easing.

Nass approaches him cautiously, laying a hand on his arm. “Skies, bless you. Are you okay, Bellamy?”

“Yes,” Bellamy sniffles, sounding a bit dazed. “Well. Besides bmy dignity, which I fear did ndot survive that experience.”

His face is bright red down to the very tips of his ears.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you,” Bellamy dabs at his watery eyes with the edges of Nass’s soiled handkerchief.

“It’s fine,” Nass squeezes his arm. “Nothing happened. We’re fine. Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you sneeze like that before.”

Bellamy flushes even darker.

“Neither have I,” he takes a stuffy congested breath. “A-andyway, I just need a minutde. Thend we cand g-go.”

He can hear Bellamy trying to hide the lingering shock in his voice. Trying to appear calm and collected for Nass.

His stomach twists again.

“Are you crazy?” Nass stares at him. “I’m driving the rest of the way.”

“But it’ll just make you even more motion sick,” Bellamy says faintly, scrubbing at his nose with the underside of his wrist. Clearly whatever he is allergic to is still bothering him.

“Bellamy!” Nass says aghast. “I took medicine. I’ll survive. Besides, what if you start sneezing like that again? We nearly drove into incoming traffic!”

Bellamy pinches the bridge of his nose again. Closes his watery red eyes. “You’re right, of course. That must’ve been terrifying for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for being a human being Bellamy,” Nass crosses his arms.

“Okay,” Bellamy swallows.

Then —

“I have no idea what set me off like that. Skies.”

Frustrated, he kicks a stone near his shoe. It goes skidding across the roadside shoulder, flattening a cluster of bright red fireweed.

There’s a brief silence.

Then Bellamy’s expression shifts.

“Nass,” he says slowly. “What are those?”

“What?”

“Those red flowers.” He points at them.

“There not flowers. You don’t have those in the North?” Nass raises an eyebrow.

Bellamy shakes his head.

“They’re weeds. Called fireweed because of their red colour.”

“I see,” Bellamy shifts. “And they grow here?”

“They grow everywhere this time of year,” Nass says, squinting against the sun.

“Right,” Bellamy nods, looking at them thoughtfully. “Okay then.”

And before Nass can tell him not too, Bellamy takes a few steps forward plucking a few fireweeds from the grass. He raises them to the underside of his nose, inhaling experimentally.

He blinks, eyelashes still damp from earlier. And maybe not less than a minute later, Bellamy chest shudders, exploding down with a violent —

“hh-hhh-HA! Hh’AEDTSSCCH’HY’ueeH!” that sprays his trousers in messy droplets.

Bellamy swears, shuddering to the left with another uncovered, equallly massive “heH’SCHEUG’HiiyUhH-!”

The fireweed tumbles from his hand.

Clearly, he has found the culprit of his allergic misery.

Bellamy blinks rapidly, blowing his nose hard on the leftover available real-estate of Nass’s handkerchief. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs. The sound is soft and a little sad around the edges.

“Maybe it’s a signd to go back to the North,” he says as he rejoins Nass against the hood of the car. “Clearly the people do not want bme here.” He sniffles. “Or the land.”

Nass stomach twists.

“Well, I want you here,” he bumps Bellamy’s shoulder. “And I enjoy your… sneezing. Not when you almost drive us into oncoming traffic. But otherwise,” Nass leans in, pressing his lips to the side of Bellamy’s temple, “I enjoy it very much.”

“Oh, I have noticed,” Bellamy sniffs again, then gives a real laugh at this. The musical sound makes Nass’s stomach flutter.

“I thought I was more discreet than that,” Nass scratches his head.

“You certainly attempbt discretion,” Bellamy turns to him with a shit eating grin. “But the sexual endergy that pours out of you, I must say, Nass, is quite loud.”

Nass blinks.

Bellamy has always been much more observant and perceptive of energies than he is. And Nass would rather eat cotton than admit it, but he fears that is exactly what makes Bellamy a far better mage — and person — than he ever will be.

Still to hear that Nass’s sexual energy is… loud? Well, that gets his cheeks warming.

“Andyway,” Bellamy clears his throat, but it does nothing to ease the congestion in his voice. “If I have to suddenly suffer spring allergies, I am at least glad it’s not wasted.”

“Definitely not wasted, Your Majesty” He can practically hear the lust in his own voice. His eyes drag over Bellamy’s tight green t-shirt. His mouth waters.

He wants to pleasure that man senseless. Even if it is in the woods in a stupid tent. It seems the sex gods have answered his deepest, darkest sexual fantasies. He has his tall, extremely sexy lover, suddenly ridden with hay fever, all to himself for three whole days.

Nass’s dick can hardly stand the thought.

“Let’s go,” he nudges Bellamy. “I am suddenly quite inpatient to get there already.”

Bellamy gives him an amused knowing look, tossing him the car keys. “I’m sure you are.”

They switch seats, Nass sliding into the driver’s side, adjusting the seat and mirrors.

“Can we stop at the next road stall to buy some tissues?” Bellamy asks, stuffing Nass’s sodden handkerchief into his pocket.

“In case…well… in case that happens again?” He rubs at his red nose.

Nass swallows hard against the thought of Bellamy doing that again.

“Of course,” He says with a laugh. “It seems that tissues are a camping necessity, Your Highness,”

And with that, he starts the engine and pulls their car back onto the road.

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