Work Text:
Being with Bam was always going to be game-changing.
Khun knew that from the start. Keeping the company of an irregular was not going to be a simple walk up the Tower.
Each one that has come before him has shaken up the very way of the Tower—and Bam would be no exception.
Except, well, Khun didn’t quite think far ahead enough to gauge the aftermath of said changes. The irregulars before Bam had brought changes to the rules of the Tower, but Bam had downright shattered them. Jahad’s reign and Princesses no more, the blockade past the 134th floor slashed to smithereens, shoved aside.
Bam himself had stood in front of that door, squeezed both his and Rak’s hands, and shook his head.
“Let’s stop.”
And Khun could do nothing but nod, toast to that really, because Bam deserved that the most after everything. All Bam had done was unlock the void at the top—but it was fitting that he himself had no desire to see it.
Bam could have whatever he wanted when the dust settled. If what he wanted was to walk away, that was his right. He was the one who decided to leave the High Rankers to their own whims, leave the Tower to find its own way again. Hands off, once and for all. Khun had a sinking feeling that decision may end up poorly, a million warzone scenarios unfolding in his brain, but it wasn’t his battle to fight anymore.
That left the question of what was next for him. Khun had a couple of pipelines to choose from, but in the end, what he wanted was to stay by Bam’s side, see what he chose.
He swallowed down his own longing when Bam contemplated aloud leaving the Tower, going to a place where Khun couldn’t follow. He held his tongue when Bam listed out reasons to go and reasons to not—each person he has met and loved along the way, burning embers right into Khun’s soul when he tenderly said Khun’s name.
And that was that.
Bam smiled at him, said his name again with confidence, and declared. “I’m going to stay, and I want you to stay with me, Khun.”
“Of course,” Khun said without pause. After all, that’s been his default response for decades when it came to Bam.
Bam blinked at him, wrinkling his nose a bit in confusion before taking one of Khun’s hands gingerly.
“I mean, stay with me … forever,” Bam repeated.
“Yeah, Bam,” Khun answered automatically, briefly wondering if there was any other possible way to take it, “I know.”
How long had they known each other now? Time in the Tower was a weird concept, sure, but there was no greater mission looming in the background, no far-off adventure awaiting his full attention. Nothing that would take Khun away from Bam in a way that would render their companionship temporary—not if Khun could help it.
“I don’t think you do,” Bam shook his head, looking both awkward and irritated. “I mean, officially.”
Officially according to whom?
That was Khun’s first thought, and he prided himself on not saying that out loud when Bam followed up on his request a few seconds after.
“Marry me?”
That was years ago.
It’s still the go-to story, the one that all their friends collectively tease them over. Apparently, they were unofficially together for years long before that proposal, though the exact moment was still up for debate. Khun would have called them all out on their bullshit if not for how they may have had a tiny, non-negligible point. Since technically, he and Bam rushed into marriage on paper without having ever said the words ‘I like you’ to each other.
But the kicker was that none of it ever felt weird. Not a single person had batted an eye at the news when they awkwardly announced it. To be honest, they probably took it better than Khun did himself. There were numerous alternatives to Bam’s proposal that could have made just as much sense. Khun had to be sure that Bam really understood marriage was a romantic eternal kind of concept, and that he felt that way about Khun. Nothing Bam ever did was conventional, so at least Khun had that excuse to fall back on in terms of them skipping a few steps. If they ever did things by the book, they wouldn’t be where they were now. Maybe everyone was used to that.
In the end, it was just a label, but there were certain advantages that came with it that Khun never allowed himself to want.
Of course, Khun had loved Bam for a long time, but there was always a reason not to say it. One war after another, each disaster more urgent than something as fickle as his feelings. It proved to be a good motivator though, the will to survive so he could tell Bam one day once they were in the clear.
And when that day came, Khun, true to form, convinced himself out of it, that it’d be selfish to ask Bam to stay after all he’s been through.
“That’s what Isu said you would say,” Bam tells him with a small giggle when they recount the memory. “He said if I had to do it, because you never would.”
“And you opted to go for marriage right off the bat?”
“I didn’t have much experience with dating,” Bam says softly, “but I was told that dating is what you do to find the one you want to be with. And I already knew, so …”
Khun fights the urge to blush at Bam’s earnestness, his simplistic logic without all the politics and rituals of romance. He was right, of course, but it was different hearing it, that love could be so simple.
“But if you want to date, we totally can!”
Khun leans down and brushes aside a patch of Bam’s bangs to impart a kiss on his forehead.
“Bam, we’ve been married for seven years. I’m good,” Khun laughs when Bam wraps his arms around Khun’s backside, eyes shining and hopeful like it was their first date. Which ironically, came the day after the proposal. “I’m happy.”
Of course, transitioning to a quiet life wasn’t something that happened overnight. It was a luxury, a saving grace, but at first for Khun, it only added to his list of headaches and anxieties. It was weird, not having something to worry over, which inadvertently made him worry more. Settling down was a gift of sorts, one that took Khun far too long to get comfortable with unwrapping.
But once that constant uneasy presence that came with war disappeared, Khun realized he didn’t miss it. If he wanted that kind of rush again during peacetime, he could always throw another wedding. Okay, no. That’s an experience Khun’s perfectly content to experience only once in his lifetime. He doesn’t think they’ll be able to outdo the sheer spectacle of the first one anyway. Although Bam’s a magnet for new friends, so maybe in a decade or two. Who knows?
There are some things that occupy his attention from time to time that could be considered out of the norm: being called to be an occasional test examiner, tinkering with the new inventions at the new Workshop. After making his usual circles for a year or two, Khun finally understood why Yuri had followed Bam around so much. There simply aren’t a whole lot of things to do when you’ve done it all—and when you found someone interesting, you latch on and see where they take you.
And for Khun, that someone interesting has always been Bam.
Bam may not be dragging him into untamed territories blind anymore, but that doesn’t make Khun find him any less interesting, any less loveable. If anything, there is something profound about the certainty of waking up next to Bam as a habit, a sure thing, knowing he’ll be there tomorrow morning to cherish too. Late nights that melt into the golden glow of sunrise, drowsy ‘good mornings’ and ‘five more minutes’ that turn into fifteen.
A lot of their mornings now go that way, but Khun still sometimes wakes up in disbelief that this is his life. That he gets to see Bam at his most vulnerable while being perfectly unharmed, with long eyelashes and humming contently in his sleep, lips available for him to kiss.
Bam has always been righteous and selfless, sometimes to an infuriating degree in Khun’s opinion, but that was one of his cornerstones. To protect others, to bend the rules and make it his own. As time went on though, he’s also been slowly showing his needier side, becoming more comfortable with the idea that he’s allowed to want things purely for himself.
(Khun still can’t fathom he’s one of those things—the best thing, Bam reaffirms time and time again, usually giggling against his mouth.)
“Morning, Bam. Your five minutes are up,” Khun says, tousling Bam’s hair a little. His husband wrinkles his eyebrows and lets out a soft groan, more like a whine. Slowly, his eyes blink open but they’re drowsy, tuckered out from the night before.
“Feels longer than that,” Bam mumbles, his breath tickling Khun’s chin.
“May have given you a little extra,” Khun answers, hiding a smile. “Like always.”
“Mmhm, thanks,” Bam hums happily, curls one arm around Khun’s shoulder for leverage before going in for his usual morning kiss.
It never lasts very long, the first of many throughout their lazy day-in routines, but that doesn’t negate just how good it is, the affirmation of their love for each other.
“I’ll go make some coffee first, alright?” Khun asks when they part, fighting a laugh when Bam doesn’t let go of him. “You can take your time getting up.”
“Okay, I’ll get decent.” Bam shrinks into their blanket a bit more, tossing flat onto his back. He yawns and stretches out in all directions to take up the entirety of the mattress, a sign that he was now actually beginning to wake up.
“See you in a few,” Khun says softly, and gets up to start his day.
Khun’s already halfway through today’s news and on his second cup of coffee when Bam steps into the alcove of their kitchen. It’s clear that he came straight out of bed, his hair not yet combed and still rubbing his eyes when he meets Khun’s gaze with a sleepy lopsided smile. He hasn’t even bothered to put on the right pajamas—
“You’re wearing my shirt,” Khun states, matter-of-factly.
Bam looks down, pretends to examine himself like he has no idea what he’s wearing. He looks back up at Khun after a second and shrugs innocently.
“Oh, sorry. Must’ve gotten it mixed up, Khun.”
What a lie. Bam likes his nightshirts longer and didn’t care what colour they were in as long as they were breathable and comfy. Khun, on the other hand, usually buys only neutral non-flashy colours, just a tad loose and not too long past his hip. Of course, looking at Bam, it’s obvious that this particular beige shirt is far too short.
Not that Khun was complaining of course.
“Maybe you need a bit more sleep then, you seem to have forgotten to put on pants too,” Khun teases, waving away his lighthouses and gesturing at Bam to take a seat across the table.
Bam accepts the invitation and settles into his chair. He begins to pour himself a cup of coffee, still steaming hot.
“Nah, that was just a ‘we’re home alone’ stylistic comfort choice,” Bam laughs. “You don’t mind, do you, Khun?”
Khun rolls his eyes affectionately. “You know I don’t, Bam. You can wear whatever you want in this house, I think I’ve seen the worst of it.”
Bam takes a sip of coffee before pouting in Khun’s direction, a devastating blow.
“That’s mean, Khun. And you wonder why I steal your shirts!”
“I don’t wonder. I know it’s because it smells like me.”
“You didn’t actually have to answer that.”
“Why not? I love that about you. It’s cute,” Khun chuckles. “Sorry that I’m always right.”
“And I hate that about you,” Bam retorts jokingly. “If you don’t let me be right once in a while, I’m not going to make you breakfast.”
Khun mock gasps.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Okay, I’d never let you starve, but I don’t have to put forth my best work.”
“That’s okay, because you spoil me too much already.”
Bam cooks, Khun cleans. Or more like Bam cooks, while Khun watches and occasionally distracts him, making the process take longer than usual.
He’s pretty sure he’s asked Bam the same questions a few dozen times on why he mixes the eggs first before he pours it into the pan, but it’s comforting to hear Bam repeat the answer again. Today, Bam continues on about his preferred spice ratios and Khun nods along without truly taking it to heart—god knows he’s never going to make that kind of decision in their kitchen ever again. After learning the names of three spices he didn’t even know they owned in their cabinets, Khun decides to make things more interesting for himself. He wraps both arms around Bam’s torso and rests his chin into the crook of Bam’s shoulder.
“You’re really limiting my mobility here, Khun,” Bam whines, finally taking a break from his little impromptu culinary lesson.
He shuffles off to the side briefly to turn the heat on the stove down, Khun still nestled into his backside.
“Mmhm,” Khun hums affirmatively, and makes no attempt to move, smirking inwardly to himself.
“Fine, but only because I’m almost done.”
There are lots of things that are different now. After they had won the war, everyone slowly went their separate ways until it was only the two of them left side by side. Which was fine, great actually. Truth be told, he could only take most of their team in moderation. So their current visiting schedule works out for the best: Isu comes far too often, Wangnan every few months, Hwaryun whenever she feels like it.
Apart from that, he and Bam have their own little routines. Sometimes they spar to maintain rather than improve, half the time stealing a kiss acting as the symbol of winning versus getting the other to yield. Sometimes they spend all day in bed the next day in lieu of exercise (well, officially), flipping through channels and poking fun at the latest drama in the Tower.
Of course, they step outside of their home too, visiting various floors and seeing how much some has changed since they’ve last been there as regulars. It’s a journey and a half to go see Rak, but they always find the time. On the other hand, meeting Endorsi is easy, but Khun liked to avoid her crowd of admirers whenever he could. He would’ve thought they’d have eased after she relinquished her Princess title, but that somehow made her even more popular.
But today, it’s a lazy kind of afternoon for them. They’re seated next to each other on the couch. Bam is humming a song next to his ear as Khun tinkers with a logic puzzle in one hand.
“What are you singing?”
“Oh, uhm, not sure actually,” Bam answers sheepishly. “I think it was on in the background during one of Endorsi’s last parties. It’s catchy.”
“Hmm … sounds better in your voice though.”
“Khuuuuun, I don’t even know the words.”
“Don’t need ‘em.” Khun says, and pulls Bam to his feet smoothly. “Keep going.”
Bam looks somewhat bashful at first, his mouth snapped shut and the room silent. But then Khun gives him a little push, continuing where Bam left off.
“You know it too?”
Khun snakes one arm around Bam’s waist, his other hand slotting perfectly into the spaces between Bam’s fingers.
“Like you said,” he grins. “It’s catchy.”
Their dance is a slow one, just a slow sway from side to side to their joint song. They occasionally bump into the coffee table, and at a certain point they stop singing altogether, diverging into a beautiful silence. But neither of their eyes ever leaves the other, keeps them in this organic, pointless, sweet moment together.
One of many, but still one to treasure—and many more to come.
Ever since they got married, life’s been a bit slower, a bit more predictable. Khun can’t say he ever imagined his future would be like this. The Khuns have no love lost when it comes to family, but he has somehow found his without trying to. Perhaps that’s harder than becoming family head, because unlike a war fought on strategy and brute strength, love is the hardest to win, no known formula.
Today was one of those slow days. Khun honestly can’t pin down a singular moment that he’ll remember even a month from now, all of it a pleasant blur by Bam’s side, nothing noteworthy.
But Khun’s good, has been good for a long time now.
He’s happy.