Chapter Text
He’s always been the poor pauper, the one running around backstage supporting the theater of life, the commoner made an example of for the story to move forward.
But at times like this, he gets to have his own Prince – no, not a Prince Charming – because his Prince is abrasive and bastardly and cruel and deadly. At times like this, he’s reminded that his Prince is affectionate and beautiful and comforting and dedicated.
“Why are you smiling like that,” his Prince asks with a fond half-smile that doesn’t completely fade away from his face, even if he’s sure that his Prince has tried to erase it from his expression.
“Mm,” he says instead in response, reaching out with one hand so he can curl it against his Prince’s arm and tug him back to bed. “You’re hiding the moon from me so I can sleep.”
“I just drew the curtains close,” his Prince replies, even though you don’t make sense, man-tiger is really what he means. He’s deciphered pretty much all of the quirks and movements of the other’s faint eyebrows.
“Mm.”
“Rest, Atsushi,” his Prince says softly, sitting dutifully beside his bed so he can glare at him the entire night until his fever breaks.
“Mm,” he repeats, but the warmth lulling him to sleep, surrounding him is less about the fever and more about the caring gaze that envelopes him.
…Maybe he is a Prince Charming after all.