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— 1 Breakfast In Bed
Having Sam back in his arms was the last thing T’Challa needed that day to feel satisfied. He’d had a good day among his people, after which Shuri had pulled him away from his duties to assist her with a project, and his mother was smiling and happy. So when the Talon Fighter touched down and Sam descended from it, his world was complete.
It wasn’t that Sam didn’t visit often enough, no, he did a wonderful job of splitting his time fairly between Wakanda and New York City. After everything with the Accords had settled, he’d been asked to return so he could assist the Captain and Sergeant with training new recruits for the Avengers. Training young recruits meant Sam himself didn’t need to go on as many missions, which relieved T’Challa of some stress. Waiting for Sam to visit Wakanda didn’t compare to the anxious worry that threaded through him when he had to wait for Sam to come out of communication blackout after completing a mission. So, it wasn’t that Sam wasn’t visiting often enough, it was that T’Challa would rather him never leave at all. But he was proud of his lover’s accomplishments and would do nothing to change the satisfaction Sam got out of his position.
It still felt immensely satisfying to pull Sam into his arms, settling the worry, and the brush of Sam’s lips to his cheek brought a smile.
“Hey, how’ve you been?”
“I have been well, and you?”
Sam slipped arms around his neck, keeping their faces close as he answered. Such a brash show of affection would normally have T’Challa pulling away, reminding Sam of his own status and their very public position on the landing tarmac, but it had been nearly eight weeks this time and anyone in the vicinity would understand. “I’m good. Even better now though, I’ve missed you.”
“As I have missed you, my little bird. Come, I have dinner waiting for you.”
Sam groaned, and though it was primarily a playful sound, T’Challa could hear the exhaustion beneath it. “How is it only dinner time here? I thought I’d get used to the jetlag by now, but I am beat.”
T’Challa slipped an arm around his waist, guiding him into the Citadel toward the chambers they shared when Sam was here, chambers that were always so lonely when he was away. “Come, eat and tell me about your day, then we will sleep.”
Another brush of a kiss on his cheek surprised him, but Sam was smiling, that little lopsided smile that meant he was content. “That sounds like a solid plan.”
“You just returned from a supervising mission, yes?”
“Ugh,” Sam’s groan was heavy and T’Challa squeezed his waist a little tighter. “Yeah, we did. I don’t even want to think about it, I just want to sleep for at least fourteen hours, eat some breakfast without having to move, then sleep some more.”
It wasn’t often that Sam was so verbal about his wants, but each time he was, T’Challa ensured he got it, even if he wasn’t being entirely serious as he said it.
So as Sam went on to vent about all the trouble the younger Avengers had given them and the struggles they’d had on the mission while he and the Captain had listened on the comms unit, T’Challa made surreptitious plans, signaling to Ayo and the man who served them as subtly as he could.
Sleeping next to each other once again helped them both. Sam had always fit so perfectly around him, no matter who had their arms around who, though that night Sam was the one to slide close and lay his head on T’Challa’s shoulder, arms sliding tight around his waist.
He was mostly already asleep, but T’Challa tightened his grip around him and pressed a long kiss to the crown of his head.
In the morning, as had happened each time he came home from New York, Sam didn’t wake till long after sunrise. T’Challa stayed in bed with him, reading on his kimoyo beads while dragging soft fingers over his bare skin, relishing the warmth he radiated.
The only time he got up, carefully enough not to wake Sam, was when two of his staff entered quietly, pulling a cart between them. He got up long enough to thank them and pour himself a glass of juice, savoring the sweet taste, before pulling the cart next to their bed and climbing in once more. If Sam didn’t want to move while eating breakfast there was no reason he should need to.
He was just finishing reading a report sent from the Border Tribe when Sam shifted against his side, groaning a little as he woke.
T’Challa instantly closed the file, turning his attention to eyes that were slowly opening. *Good morning,*
“Hi,” Sam groaned, stretching across the mattress only to curl back around T’Challa’s side as he sighed. *What time is it?*
*Not yet midday,* He wasn’t too worried about the time, it hadn’t quite been twelve hours since Sam had fallen asleep and he was content to let him sleep much longer. *Are you hungry?*
Sam sighed, taking a moment to think, before nodding against T’Challa’s shoulder. “Yeah, actually. Do you think they saved us any breakfast?”
Without answering T’Challa reached over to lift one of the lids off a woven basket. He pulled a piece of fruit from it then turned to hold it to Sam’s lips. He chuckled but accepted it easily, smile changing to a satisfied groan as he savored it.
*I’ve missed the fruit here.*
The content words sank under T’Challa’s skin, he couldn’t resist bending enough to kiss him, tasting the juice still on his lips and dipping his tongue in deeper to find more when it faded. *I have missed you, my heart.*
Calloused fingers touched his cheek, keeping him close enough for their lips to brush. *You don’t know how much I miss home when I’m away.*
“Home is here whenever you desire it.”
The simple blend of their languages, their ease in slipping back and forth, added another layer of fulfillment to the morning. T’Challa shifted enough to sit up, pulling Sam’s head into his lap as he continued to feed him small bites of fruit, fried bread, and sweet porridge. They spoke quietly, neither wanting to disturb the air around them, relishing in the presence of the other.
Sam eventually shook his head at another bite, smiling when T’Challa simply ate it himself. “You know I love you, right?”
T’Challa traced his lips with a thumb, the scrape of his mustache familiar and comforting. “Of course I do.” He knew Sam wasn’t doubting that, but occasionally both or either of them needed the confirmation. “And I you.”
He continued to trace the contours of Sam’s face until the other man stopped his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. His eyes were bright as he stared up, his smile gentle even though weariness was creeping back in. *You spoil me, you just always know exactly what I need somehow.*
*Oh, my little bird.* T’Challa hummed, *I would give you the world if it made you smile at me like that.*
The look they shared was filled with love, and T’Challa basked in it. After only a moment Sam pushed himself up enough to bring their lips together again. They sank into the kiss, keeping it gentle, extending it with each new touch of their lips, each new breath that brushed their cheeks.
*I don’t want the world, I just want you.*
He clutched Sam closer, letting his own desire surface as he pressed them together.
When Sam finally fell asleep again, a touch warmer but satisfied in more ways than one, he was curled against T’Challa’s side once more. T’Challa didn’t even bother opening his beads again, the kingdom could wait another few hours, he much preferred to wrap Sam close and fall asleep with his quiet breaths against his skin.
— 2 Suit Shopping In NYC
It wasn’t often that T’Challa was able to join Sam in New York, far more rare than Sam’s trips to Wakanda. But when he did it was always entertaining.
The current topic was an event Tony Stark was hosting, apparently for charity. T’Challa was reclined next to Sam on the couch, watching as he and the Captain played against one another in a video game. It was entertaining, and though the Captain had good instincts in regards to the strategy, Sam was pulling ahead in points because of simple familiarity.
Stark was attempting to stand between the three of them and the screen while explaining the many reasons he wanted all of them to be there and why they needed to come dressed in their best.
“It’s for charity, Cap! You like that stuff, it’s all good for the kids, they’ll be happier, get to run around and live a full life-”
“Tony! Move, come on, and you know those charity events rarely give all the money to the kids, most of it ends up going in other people’s pockets.”
“Seriously,” Sam ducked to see the screen under Tony’s flailing arm, shrugging. “I’d rather go into another Hydra base than have to shake hands with a bunch of people that just want to claim we don’t do anything to help the second something goes wrong.”
Less than a month ago a news article had come out, highly critical of the way the Avengers had handled an altercation. It had circulated through the media for nearly two weeks, calling for reparations and justice. Sam had been the lead in that mission due to the Captain’s absence and he’d taken it particularly hard. T’Challa was still feeling bitter toward the American press himself and he hadn’t been indicated in the article at all. He could understand Sam’s hesitance.
“Besides, the dress code you’re talking about is a little too much for my closet.” Sam cut himself off the shout in triumph as the screen on the Captain’s side flashed red before blacking out. “Yeah, you can’t beat the best, Steve!”
“What are you talking about?” Stark would not be deterred, frowning and waving a finger in Sam’s direction. “I had you fitted for multiple high quality suits and tuxedos in the last six months, where did they all go?”
Sam rolled his eyes, nodding at Steve as he began another round. “You bought me exactly one suit and one tux, both of which got destroyed when a particular villain rammed a giant floating warship into the side of the tower directly into my bedroom.”
T’Challa hummed at that, remembering the occasion rather more fondly than he should. It had been a true disaster, wreaking havoc across the city. But it had brought Sam back to Wakanda for nearly a month until the tower had been repaired, and for that he couldn’t complain. He hadn’t considered that Sam had lost many of his possessions, most of his important items were stored in their rooms at the Citadel rather than his apartment here, but perhaps he could help settle Sam’s need, in a way that was probably much preferable to whatever Tony might plan.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, though it was primitive compared to his beads it did contain most of his New York contacts and was his primary communication device while he was away from his homeland. By the time Sam had beaten the Captain once more he had an appointment set up with his favorite tailor outside of Wakanda, conveniently located in lower Manhattan. He replaced his phone and slipped his arm back around Sam’s shoulders, smiling when he leaned into his side even as he continued playing. He didn’t feel bad about cutting off another of Stark’s exclamations. “It is handled, Stark, don’t worry, Sam will be there.”
All three of them turned to him, Sam with one eyebrow raised.
T’Challa scoffed just a little at what he understood in Sam’s expression. “Please, Sam, you were going to say yes to the invitation, I am simply making it easier.”
Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, turning back to the screen just as the Captain finally managed to kill his character. *You know that and I know that, but they didn’t. You didn’t have to give me away so easily.*
He just laughed, pressing a kiss to Sam’s temple before nodding again at Stark who still hadn’t moved out of the way. “He will be there, and I will handle the wardrobe issue.”
Stark didn’t seem inclined to believe him, but T’Challa didn’t worry about that, long used to Tony’s theatrics. If it wasn’t for Sam’s place on the team he’d probably have a lot less patience for it, but the Avengers had had enough tension within their group already, he wouldn’t add to it.
The next day is when he proved himself true to his word, though Stark wouldn’t see the benefit of that until the charity function. By the end of the day T’Challa was considering changing his schedule to allow himself the ability to go, but seeing Sam dressed up wasn’t quite a good enough excuse for that, so he put it from his mind.
When they stepped into the tailor shop he could sense Sam’s surprise, but instead of answering the questions he could sense coming he led Sam further back into the darkness of the actual work area.
Before he moved toward the tailor who was standing against the back wall with her back to them, he was caught off guard by a rush of warmth. He’d pulled Sam casually toward the back with their intertwined hands and though he had shared no details with the man, he’d followed easily, adding no resistance to T’Challa’s pull. He was always caught off guard by Sam’s trust in him, but sometimes, in moments like this, it truly amazed him.
He took a moment to turn and press a long kiss to his cheek before gesturing toward the woman, now moving toward them.
“Hattie, it is good to see you again.”
The older woman was sharply dressed, her hair pulled back off her forehead severely but hanging in flattering curls around her ears. When she spoke it was with a sharp British accent, unchanged by her extended stay within America. “My little prince, it has been too long, I was hoping you would come see me soon.”
“When there is a need for style I know who to rely on.” He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, obviously pleased, before brushing a quick kiss to his cheek.
“What style are you searching for?” Her eyes drifted past him to smile at Sam, who returned it easily. “And who is your young man? Familiar face but I can’t place it.”
With a tug on his hand he pulled Sam up beside him. “This is Sam Wilson, he is the subject of today’s visit.”
Hattie stepped back, her eyes dropping to asses, sharp and quick as she’d always been. “Ah, yes, I do recall now, but no matter,” She waved a hand sharply before gesturing toward her work station, a raised platform with mirrors surrounding it, spotlights currently turned off but positioned to shed light on every angle. “I don’t worry about such things in my shop, only about what looks flattering. Come, onto the platform and we can discuss what you need.”
T’Challa shifted his hand to instead push Sam forward, guiding him toward it.
Sam’s eyes assessed the area before stepping onto the platform, grinning as he nodded. With a teasing smirk he caught T’Challa’s eye and switched into Wakandan. *My little prince? That’s cute, I like it.*
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Hattie when she raised an eyebrow. Though they’d known each other a long time he’d never convinced her to learn his language. “Don’t mind it if he gets impertinent, his looks make up for his ridiculous jokes most of the time.”
She laughed, and it brought him right back to being young and stressed in a university far from home.
“You two seem familiar, how did you meet?” Sam followed Hattie’s direction to raise his arms as she began moving around him with a measuring tape, but his eyes stayed on T’Challa.
T’Challa found a rolling stool and pulled it closer, getting comfortable. “I was at Oxford completing my studies. Hattie owned a shop in the town and I wandered the streets often before I made friends.”
Hattie looked over with a soft look before going back to her work, movements sharp and easy. “Well, he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, walking around in all those bright colors. He wasn’t subtle, that’s for sure, so I took it upon myself to help him fit in a tad more, he needed a new wardrobe anyway you looked at it.”
Sam laughed and T’Challa shrugged. “It was welcome, though my mother doubted at first that it would help. The Merchant tribe has always adjusted some styles to fit the colonist fashion, but now I would never go to anyone but Hattie when I am in need.”
“And if I ever hear differently you and I will have a long talk.” She pointed at him severely and he nodded back in acceptance easily.
They continued to talk as she worked. It had been a while since he’d stopped in for her expertise and he’d missed her frank discussion and bright laughter. When they told her of the charity function and the style that had been present the last year she nodded but rolled her eyes.
“I am not surprised it is so high class, not with Stark hosting. You will not be the only two attending with my fashion.”
At that T’Challa shook his head. “I will not be attending, unfortunately I have business that cannot be moved.”
That made Hattie straighten entirely, turning to him with surprise. “You won’t be going with your young man? I already have the perfect design for both of you, flattering but still matching, don’t make me change my mind.”
He shook his head, extending one hand. “No, no, today is only for Sam, I have no need.”
She was clearly disappointed, but only huffed and turned back to Sam. “Ridiculous, I can’t see why you couldn’t change something to attend with him. Both of you together would make a sight.”
“I am sure we would, perhaps next time.”
Sam smiled softly over at him, winking when they made eye contact. “I’ve gotten used to his schedule, falling in love with a king really requires some flexibility.”
He felt himself flush when Sam added emphasis to the last word, but Hattie only laughed, nodding. “Yes, and it helps that he’s such a very good king, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah, he really is, he’s good at a lot of things.”
Hattie caught Sam’s second wink and with a sly glance at T’Challa, gestured toward the back room. “I’m going to go get some material, we’ll see if you agree with my opinions, I should only be a moment.”
As soon as she slipped out of the room T’Challa was standing and moving closer. Being up on the pedestal made Sam just a few inches taller than him and it added something different to the feeling of his hands on Sam’s hips.
*You really are impertinent sometimes.*
Sam laughed, his arms slipping around T’Challa’s shoulders. “I thought for sure that was one of my endearing qualities.”
“Of course it is.” Slight pressure to Sam’s hips pulled him forward until they were kissing, chaste and gentle but deliberate. He lost the train of thought he’d been following, falling into Sam’s warmth and the strength in his grip.
Rustling behind him finally pulled him away, Hattie was grinning at them as he stepped back and he felt warmth touch his cheeks again.
“Stop flirting with my subject and give me your opinions. I have several materials that would look marvelous against his skin, what do you think?”
T’Challa quickly stepped over, hands instinctively reaching to stroke against the swatches of fabrics. Sam joined him but T’Challa swatted his hands away from the more chaotic patterns.
“She was not asking you, you don’t get a say in this.”
Hattie looked surprised but Sam was chuckling. “Oh come on,”
“And why should he not have an opinion? If he’s going to be wearing it, after all.”
But he shook his head, teasingly pushing Sam’s hands away again. “Sam’s idea of fashion is gym attire or a leather jacket, far too uncultured to apply here.”
Hattie’s eyebrows went from surprised to offended and she appraised Sam a little more critically.
“Hey, those are bold words coming from the man who steals that leather jacket every time he sees it.”
T’Challa sighed, guilty, when Hattie’s gaze went from Sam to him, growing more appalled as she stared. “Forgive me, Hattie, it’s the sentiment, you understand.”
The sentiment, and the heat in Sam’s eyes when he saw T’Challa wearing his clothes, but he couldn’t admit that to Hattie.
She kept her gaze narrowed at him for a long moment before huffing and waving a dismissive hand at them both. “We will correct your fashion ideas later. Blue or pink?”
The first swatch she held up was a shimmery blue fabric with thin silver stripes, the pink swatch was equally shimmery but instead of stripes was rippled in a wood grain pattern. He stroked each swatch carefully before reaching for Sam’s arm, bringing his wrist up to hold the colors against his skin. He considered it for a long moment before reaching for another swatch, a purple so dark it was nearly brown.
“The pink in a jacket, with a purple waistcoat and bowtie?”
Hattie hummed approvingly, nodding as she reached for the fabrics herself. “I was going to suggest a tie, but the waistcoat and bowtie would work well, yes, I like it.”
“And the blue as well, it would go well with another bright color. Perhaps a green?”
Sam reached for a deep emerald fabric but T’Challa swiped his hand away.
“No, not that green, stop touching things.”
Hattie laughed and Sam grinned but finally raised his hands. “Alright, I trust you.”
“Good, because I am right.”
As Hattie approved his pairings and suggested another of her own, Sam stepped up behind him, keeping his hands busy by wrapping them around T’Challa’s waist. He heartily approved, even though it made him flush when Hattie eyed them.
Eventually Sam stepped back to the platform for more measurements as T’Challa waved a hand at the three options they’d settled on. “He will eventually have use for all three, complete the usual sets as you would mine and I will have someone pick them up when you have them ready.”
It wasn’t an inexpensive request, three complete suits of the quality Hattie provided, but he barely considered the cost as he stared at the picture Sam sent him three weeks later when he’d returned to Wakanda. He’d put on the pink suit with the purple waistcoat, layering it over a simple white shirt, and it looked just as good as T’Challa had imagined it would.
Sam was smiling brightly into the camera and T’Challa couldn’t resist smiling back, so intent on the picture he didn’t even notice Shuri looking over his shoulder.
“What is he dressed up for?”
He didn’t jump, but only barely. “He is going to a charity event, aren’t you supposed to be working on your project for the Border tribe?”
She waved a hand at him, rolling her eyes. “You’re supposed to be fulfilling your duties, instead you are gawking at your lover, I was just curious.”
“Hm, have you finished gawking at him now?”
“Oh, shush, like you’re worried I’m going to steal him? Tell him I like that color.”
T’Challa smiled at the compliment, dutifully repeating it back to Sam in a message. “As do I, I am glad it worked as well as I imagined.”
“You picked it? You spoil him, you know.”
He didn’t even acknowledge that, instead turning his mind to the next thing he had planned for the man he loved.
— 3 Flying In The Grand Canyon
Some of the things he did, whether it be breakfast in bed or a shopping spree, were very unplanned, spontaneous, T’Challa simply taking advantage of the ways he could spoil Sam in any way he could think of.
Other times, specific times, something slipped from Sam’s mouth that T’Challa took in a way that Sam may not have meant. Like the moment in a conversation with Shuri when Sam had let it slip that he’d never seen the Grand Canyon. He’d made it across a lot of Europe and the Middle East, but never West enough to see the wonder in his own country. It had been a simple admission, a side comment in their more lengthy discussion, but T’Challa had heard it, pondered on it, on the wistfulness of Sam’s tone, the gaze that had gone distant with desire for a moment, and now he was going to act on his plan.
Unfortunately for the Avengers, that included landing at the tower and pulling Sam out of a meeting with no prior warning. In his defense, the meeting was in regards to a plan that wouldn’t go into effect for another two weeks, plenty of time for them to catch Sam up after T’Challa returned him. Most everyone in the room had an issue with it, but the Captain was smiling and Sam was grinning brightly, though T’Challa wasn’t sure if that was because he was pulling Sam out of what was sure to be a miserable meeting or that they hadn’t seen each other in nearly three weeks. He accepted it either way and ignored everyone else.
By the time he was pulling Sam onto the Royal Talon behind him Okoye had returned from the Avengers’ armory with Sam’s flight pack, which T’Challa was sure he would want when he saw their destination. For now, he made sure it was stored out of sight and sat down to enjoy a pre-prepared meal while Okoye handled piloting.
Talking with Sam was always easy. He was always so animated, easing T’Challa away from the strict mannerisms his mantle often pulled him into. They caught each other up on the daily news of both their lives, blending seamlessly together as they always did when they were reunited, and by the time Okoye nodded from the pilot seat they were comfortably seated together, hands intertwined.
T’Challa didn’t interrupt Sam’s story, watching his eyes flicker across the space as he talked about the Captain and Sergeants' attempt to train the dog they’d adopted. He would always love listening to Sam.
But when the story was complete he gently kept it from flowing into another. “I believe we are here. Come.”
Throughout their conversation Sam hadn’t been hiding his curiosity, but his immediate response to that displayed his eagerness once again. “I finally get to know why you kidnapped me?”
“Trust me, I am sure you will enjoy this.” T’Challa pulled him toward the ramp as Okoye began lowering it.
He stepped back to watch Sam’s reaction as Horseshoe Canyon was revealed. They were hovering above it, angled to have the entire view spill across the opening of the ramp, and it truly was beautiful. The sun was dipping closer to the horizon, not quite shining in their eyes while still bathing the area in light.
“Holy shit…” Sam pulled away from him to step forward onto the ramp, steps slow as he took in the view. T’Challa followed him but kept back, watching him and enjoying that view just as much as Sam was enjoying the larger view.
They stood in silence for long minutes, staring together. It didn’t surprise him when Sam eventually sat down, slowly edging closer to the edge of the ramp, letting his legs dangle even as his eyes wandered further.
“T’Challa…”
He sat down next to him, smiling when Sam shook his head. The sun in his eyes changed the dark molasses to a wonderstruck golden, and he couldn’t look away. When Sam blindly reached for his hand he grasped it easily.
“How did you know?”
T’Challa laughed low, squeezing gently. “I have my ways.”
“It looks so much deeper than it does in the pictures. I mean, I guess I expected that, I just didn’t realize…” He drifted off, leaning forward to look over the edge, eyes scanning the ground so far below them. When he sat back it was to lean further into T’Challa’s arm, his smile incredulous in the way that made T’Challa’s heart soar with accomplishment. “Man, this is incredible, I can’t believe it… Too bad I didn’t think to grab-”
But he’d expected that, he’d known, and he was glad Okoye was paying attention. He shifted enough as he looked up the ramp toward her that it got Sam’s attention, just as Okoye lifted his flight pack by the straps.
“You-” Sam pulled him back around by his collar, their lips colliding. T’Challa couldn’t help the surprised sound, but he quickly pulled Sam closer, deepening the kiss even as Sam’s lips lifted in a bright smile. “I can’t believe you, you’re just-” He cut himself off to kiss again, and it was T’Challa’s turn to smile into it.
*Anything for you, my little bird.*
“Will you fly with me?”
“Of course,” T’Challa gestured toward the ground below them, eager to experience anything Sam wished for. “I have more as well, whenever you are ready.”
“You have-” The bright sound of Sam’s laugh echoed deeper into his heart than the canyon could claim to be. “Of course you do, you gonna tell me or is it a surprise too?”
“This was the surprise, I can tell you the rest if you wish.”
“What else?”
T’Challa gestured toward the southern edge of the canyon to their left, and the city he knew lay beyond the horizon. “You have a choice to make. There is a hotel room in the city nearly ten minutes flight from here, or while we fly Okoye has supplies necessary for a campsite. We have the night, we may do whatever you wish to do and return tomorrow afternoon to New York. How would you like to spend it?”
Sam grinned before looking toward Okoye. “You really signed up to spend the night in the desert?”
She huffed at him, shaking her head. “There are two rooms in that hotel, whichever you choose does not influence my quarters for the night. He is a king and you are an Avenger, if you cannot keep each other safe in the desert for a night I will mourn you tomorrow.”
They laughed, and Sam was nodding. “Fair enough. I haven’t been camping in forever, let’s do it. It’ll be fun.”
T’Challa couldn’t stop himself from softening, Shuri would call him lovesick and he couldn’t deny it. “Of course it will be, you will be there.”
Sam kissed him once more, humming into it, before climbing to his feet, balance sure and steady even hundreds of meters above the ground. “Come on, this is gonna be amazing.”
Fifteen minutes later, an hour later, six hours later, T’Challa would agree with him. Unable to admire the scenery because his eyes continued to drift to Sam, basking in his joy and the light in his eyes from the dying sun. It was amazing.
— 4 Dinner At La Grande Table Marocaine, Marrakech
He could tell Sam was nervous. It was rare that he fidgeted, but he was pulling on the cuff of his blazer, tugging nonexistent wrinkles out of the silky fabric while shifting his weight back and forth.
*Sam, there is no need for nerves.*
The shifting stilled but his fingers grew more agitated. *Sorry,*
They were still waiting for the ambassadors so T’Challa took a moment to step close to him, smoothing a firm hand down his arm until he could intertwine their fingers. *No apologies, but calm, it will all be fine.*
The dubious look told him Sam doubted that, but he nodded and relaxed, which was enough for T’Challa to as well.
He’d never actually done this, but Sam had been visiting Wakanda when he received a message from the Egyptian representative at the UN, requesting an audience. He hadn’t wanted to allow them into Wakanda, his people weren’t comfortable with that yet, so he’d sought neutral ground. Which had led them to agree on a restaurant in the North of Africa, touted for its expense and elegance. It wasn’t to his normal taste, but the power play was clear so he’d accepted it.
But considering it was to be a two day audience, he hadn’t wanted to leave Sam behind. It was easily solved when Sam agreed to go with him, but he wondered now if perhaps it was too much pressure. Sam wasn’t technically even Wakandan, much less his consort, so allowing his presence during King’s duties may have crossed some line. No one had called him on it though, and Sam hadn’t backed out, at least yet.
*Do you wish to leave? This will only take a few hours, and I can meet you afterward if you’d prefer.*
The look Sam gave him was reassuring, even if it said that T’Challa was an idiot. *You asked me to come, I wouldn’t say no to that, I’ve just never been around people this important before. Not in a capacity that mattered at least.*
*You are sure? I would not mind, in fact I wish you to be most comfortable, wherever that is.*
That seemed to finally calm Sam entirely and he squeezed their hands together gently, turning more into T’Challa’s space. *And waste the beautiful outfit you put together for me? Not a chance.*
It really was a nice outfit, but it could easily be worn on another occasion that didn’t come with the stress of a performance.
The black blazer fit him well, settling over his broad shoulders and highlighting the strength of his back. The lapels, pockets, and cuffs were decorated with a geometric pattern in different shades of bright green, interlaid with black to blend seamlessly into the black shirt and trousers it accompanied. It was an understated outfit, purposefully downplayed to highlight T’Challa’s own outfit, which was nearly an exact opposite. His own trousers, shirt, and blazer were done in traditional bright greens, flashing in the sun off silken fibers, while his lapels, pockets, and cuffs mirrored Sam’s geometric pattern, but in black. It was a matching set, but highlighted T’Challa’s status next to Sam’s. He enjoyed seeing them like that, obviously paired, but wasn’t willing to compromise Sam’s comfort to do so.
Before he could ask again, Sam smiled softly in reassurance. *Wherever you are, I’m comfortable. I promise.*
“You’re majesty, thank you for agreeing to this, it’s wonderful to see you.”
He took a moment to nod at Sam, squeezing their palms together, before turning to acknowledge the Egyptian ambassador and switching away from the Wakandan they’d been using. “Mr. Wasem, a pleasure, I’m sure.”
The man was older, and what hair he had on his head was grey and trimmed short. Circular glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and though his suit was obviously high quality it was a bland grey, the only splash of color being the dark blue of the shirt underneath it.
“My wife, Walidah, accompanies me today. My dear, this is King T’Challa of Wakanda.”
T’Challa smiled easily, accepting her hand when she offered it before gesturing to Sam. “Samuel Wilson, of the Avengers, though he is in capacity as a personal companion today.”
The pleasantries continued as they were led by the host through the restaurant, eventually sitting together at a round table in a private room. Though room probably wasn’t the right word. It was walled on one side, but open to nature beyond the edge of the patio. Bright white curtains pulled to the side to allow the view of greenery lit by the late afternoon sun, and while the privacy was nice the open air helped him feel more at home.
When Sam squeezed his knee under the table he was sure they agreed on that.
It did annoy him slightly when the ambassador tried to instantly begin the conversation. Before he could even finish his first sentence, T’Challa waved a hand.
“Please, my father believed a good discussion was always more likely when a good meal proceeded it. There is plenty of time for business.”
Though the man hesitated he eventually nodded. “Of course, of course.”
Walidah had far more tact, commenting on the menu and the beauty of the venue while they waited for the host to return. T’Challa willingly engaged, appreciating the candid conversation, until Sam caught his attention when he shook his head while staring at the menu. It wasn’t a big motion, more than likely unconscious, but it was enough.
When he glanced over with narrowed eyes Sam looked up. He seemed surprised for a moment before smiling and switching back into Wakandan. *I don’t know how to admit that I don’t know what most of this means, it’s beyond my usual palate.*
T’Challa smiled, understanding. It had taken him a long time to become comfortable with the higher class of food, and only extensive research into the current menu kept him comfortable now. *The flavors are not as unique as they seem. Don’t feel pressured to try anything beyond your comfort.*
Sam just nodded, but he could tell that didn’t reassure him as much as he’d hoped it would. It took him a moment to find the solution.
*You trust me?*
He got a look for that, which caught the attention of the ambassador and his wife but he ignored them as Sam nodded, an action that clearly stated ‘obviously’.
*Allow me to order for you? I am familiar enough with your likes and dislikes, if that would remove some of the pressure you are feeling.*
The relief crossed Sam’s face before he schooled his expression, nodding gratefully. *Yes, thank you.*
T’Challa nodded, pressing their ankles together under the table before switching back to English and turning back to Walidah.
When they ordered he added a tasting menu for the entire table, then the higher grade steaks for both of them. He nearly ordered a bottle of wine before turning back to Sam. *You don’t normally drink wine, would you prefer a spirit today?*
Sam nodded easily. *Please.*
A whiskey would pair nicely while also being familiar enough to Sam’s usual tastes, so he ordered that and a glass of red wine for himself.
Once they got comfortable the atmosphere eased, allowing less stilted conversation to happen. Walidah discussed grandchildren with Sam, who eagerly added stories of his nephews, while T’Challa allowed some political conversation between the ambassador and himself, though he still edged away from anything strictly business.
When the food arrived they fell silent for long moments as they enjoyed the tastes and experience. The food was rich while maintaining the lightness of healthy fare, and when Sam hummed it was a satisfied sound.
Eventually business was discussed, dessert served, a more formal meeting arranged for the next afternoon, but T’Challa couldn’t stop himself from constantly checking on Sam, watching his expression, squeezing his hand when possible. It was reassuring to see him relax, his shoulders dropping, his smile coming easily as his eyes wandered peacefully.
It was only when they said goodbye to the other couple that he finally breathed a sigh of relief. It mingled with T’Challa’s and they both laughed as they shared a glance.
“I can’t imagine doing that every day, I do not envy how much energy you spend doing that.”
He hummed, nodding. “It is a necessary evil, unfortunately.” But he wasn’t done yet, there was still the evening ahead of him, and though he hadn’t booked the highest caliber of accommodation he could have, there was certainly still plenty to do and see, plenty of time to spend together. “Come,” He pulled Sam closer, slipping an arm around his waist. “Our evening has only begun, it would be a shame to spend it talking of politics.”
Sam laughed but shifted into his side. *Of course, your highness.* When he turned his head his lips brushed T’Challa’s cheek, making him smile back. “Thank you for bringing me, this has been amazing already.*
Instead of responding with words, he allowed the next kiss to land on Sam’s lips, pressing deeper for a moment to hopefully convey just how much he enjoyed having Sam next to him.
— 5 A Birthday Surprise
It was necessary for his surprise, but still very strange to land the Royal Talon at the edge of the Wilson family property in Louisiana without Sam next to or waiting for him. He’d been here a handful of times, visiting enough to be comfortable greeting Sarah and the young boys with a wide smile.
“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, they’ve been begging to see Uncle Sam for days now.”
He laughed and accepted the usual hug from her easily. “I am grateful it worked well for you, he has also been complaining, it has been too long and he gets anxious. I thought his birthday would be an appropriate time.”
“You’re absolutely right,” She turned to wave at the two boys who came darting down the porch steps toward them. “Cas, AJ, come on, bring your bags and let’s go.”
With a gesture he swept forward, Ayo behind him, and together they gathered the bags set on steps, the boys gleefully running up the ramp, heedless of Sarah who was shaking her head.
“Sometimes they’re so well behaved I forget they’re tiny gremlins.”
He laughed and waited for her to lock the house up before following her up the ramp. “It is the same in Wakanda, they are well behaved until they get what they want, then they teach us the true meaning of patience. I’m afraid to admit I was the same as a child.”
“Oh, so was I.” She watched as the two boys swarmed around the pilot’s chair, Ayo giving them small frowns but allowing them to watch as she raised the ramp and pushed the ship into motion. “I can’t believe I put our mom through the things I did, and I have to remind myself this is probably my reward for that.”
He chuckled, but Sarah’s face grew more serious as she turned to him fully.
“You’re sure this is gonna work out? I know how stressed he gets on missions and I don’t want to overwhelm him with the boys’ energy.”
With a quick gesture at the back wall he pulled up the screen that had Sam’s current location blinking steadily. “It should not be a problem. He is not back in contact yet, but I have been watching closely and there did not seem to be any complications with the mission. We should arrive just as he is finishing cleaning himself and his gear, and they should be planning to debrief tomorrow, which will allow him time to relax. I believe he will be too excited to see them to worry about the stress of the mission.”
“Hopefully it will do them all some good.” Sarah smiled as she watched the boys finally settle onto one of the benches, phone held between them while it played a video.
“I believe it will.” T’Challa went back to watching the blinking tracker, now well over halfway across the Atlantic.
When it reached Manhattan island it finally stopped moving, and it was only another forty-five minutes after that when T’Challa moved to the cockpit, peering over Ayo’s shoulder as the city scape loomed on the horizon.
Normally the two AI’s consulted each other automatically to ensure airspace safety, but this time T’Challa smiled and did it himself. “GRIOT, connect me to Sam through JARVIS, please.”
An electronic ping and a moment later JARVIS’ smooth accent slipped through the air. “Mr. Wilson is currently exiting the showers, one moment and I’ll connect you.”
“Thank you, JARVIS.”
He grinned at Sarah and the boys, a finger to his lips to keep them quiet, and waited patiently for the gentle beep before speaking through a smile. “This is the Royal Talon, requesting permission from the Falcon to enter airspace and land at Avengers’ Tower. Over.”
Ayo rolled her eyes at him while Sarah just looked confused, but a moment later Sam’s quiet chuckle flickered through the speakers. “What are you doing in Avengers’ Tower airspace?”
The sound wasn’t as bright as usual, which probably meant something had actually gone wrong with the mission, but T’Challa was only minutes from being able to fix that.
“It is your birthday, did you expect me to be somewhere else?”
“Fair enough, but you did it backwards again. You’re supposed to hail first, then identify and ask permission.”
“Ah,” T’Challa tsked at himself, allowing the tease to brighten his smile. “I knew I had something wrong.”
Sam’s laugh was louder that time. “That was better than last time though, you’ll get it right next time. Permission granted.”
“Perhaps if you did not rely on primitive communication I would not need to.”
“Only a king with an AI would consider radio primitive communication.”
Well, that was true.
Avengers’ Tower finally separated from the mass of buildings in front of them. Knowing Sam was there, after nearly three weeks of being separated, knowing he would soon hold him, helped his shoulders drop from their usual tight position. “I have a surprise for you, meet me on the flight pad. Over and out.”
Sam’s laugh came through for barely a second before the channel cut off.
Sarah was shaking her head. “You two, I swear.”
He shrugged, fully recognizing the way their teasing appeared to others. He would always enjoy teasing Sam and being teased back, even if it was something as simple as an inside joke regarding the time Sam had taught him how to hail according to the US military.
They settled onto the landing pad just as the sliding double doors opened. T’Challa held the boys back gently until they’d settled and the ramp descended completely, then he released them with a gentle push and quiet. “Go,”
Their shouts rang through the air as they raced down the ramp. Sam’s exclamation was just as loud and though he couldn’t see it yet, T’Challa could imagine the way he swung the boys up and into an embrace.
With Ayo’s help he followed with the suitcases. Sarah was being hugged now while the boys stood at either side, waiting for Sam’s attention again. Sam whispered into her ear, swaying gently before releasing her and turning to T’Challa. He barely managed to set the bags down before he had an armful of muscle, but he held Sam close and breathed him in.
*Thank you, T’Challa, thank you so much.* Sam’s lips brushed his neck and he ducked his head down enough to brush a kiss to Sam’s cheek.
*Of course, my heart, anything for you. Happy birthday.*
Sam needed to eat still, needed to catch up with his sister and play with his nephews. Later he would find out about the small dinner party that was being put together with Ms. Pott’s help, then he’d realize Sarah had taken an entire week off to spend in New York. They’d sit together and talk, he’d listen to Sam’s worries and stress in regards to the mission, Sam would listen to his frustration with the Jabari tribe.
But for now he settled into the embrace, breathing Sam’s clean scent, feeling the wind brush against them, hear the boys’ shouts as they vied for Sam’s attention eagerly, and simply appreciated the presence of the man he loved so dearly.
— +1
T’Challa barely recognized the way the day passed, consumed by busy work and calls and expectations. He’d been out during the morning for a meeting with several of the tribes and Elders, but had been in his office since before the midday meal. There had been quite a list of things to do at the start, but it seemed that with every thing he completed another item or two slipped into his mind.
He was so busy he nearly missed Sam’s call on his beads. On days like these it was hard to slip out of his mantle, and his tone of voice when he answered reflected that, polite and smooth, but distant.
*Yes?*
Sam smiled at him from the projection, eyes soft but worried. *Where are you? I’ve been looking for you.*
T’Challa hummed, nodding slightly to dismiss the question. *Working, there is much left to do. Do you require my presence?*
He moved back to working, scrolling through the projection in front of him, glancing over the report from the Border tribe, registering enough of the information to feel comfortable signing it at the bottom and moving onto the next thing.
A long moment passed before he realized Sam hadn’t actually answered his question, nor had he ended the call. He looked back toward the projection, surprised at Sam’s patient but raised eyebrow.
“Have you stopped to eat sometime in the past few hours?”
“Of course I have,” The empty plate balanced on the corner of his desk told him he wasn’t lying, but the fog of responsibility in his mind kept him from remembering exactly what had been on the plate when it had arrived. He hoped Sam didn’t ask him in order to prove it.
“And you’ve been drinking water?”
That was harder to ascertain, but there was an empty glass across a few of the paper files he had spread out. He nodded, the urge to return to work pulling his focus away. “Did you call to interrogate me on my meals or did you need me?”
Sam’s smile was soft and it melted away some of the edges T’Challa was feeling. “I always need you. How much more do you need to do today?”
It wasn’t an unusual question and it never came with urges to finish faster in order to spend time together, it was simply Sam’s way of checking in with him, reminding him that when he was available Sam wanted to be with him.
The list of duties in his head exceeded the afternoon, possibly the evening. “I am not sure, there is much to do, and much of it cannot wait.”
Sam fell silent long enough for his mind to wander again. There was still the Jabari tribe meeting to arrange which always required hours of discussion, Shuri needed advice on one of her many projects, Okoye had two warriors in training who needed to schedule a moment to give their oaths, the United Nations had several items of business he needed to complete for them- He sorted through the paper on his desk, thankfully not much with how much he used the projection, but enough that it took him a moment to find the list he’d started. He hadn’t updated it recently but it included several other items he’d forgotten already.
“T’Challa.”
The soft call brought his attention back, before he could huff at the continued interruption Sam was nodding off to the side.
“The sun’s still pretty high, it should hit the mountain in a couple of hours. What do you say about working till then, then meeting me to eat dinner together?”
T’Challa glanced out his window, over the buildings and streets of his city toward the river and the sunlight glistening off it. “I have much to do, Sam, I am not sure I will have time for a longer break as you suggest.”
Sam’s voice was soft, loving. *Kitty cat. I spent some time with your mother. She believes you’re overworking yourself, focusing too hard and long on things that can wait until after you’re rested.*
A denial rose in his throat, he had always known when to stop, when to rest, his prioritizing was a skill he’d honed for years. But Sam was shaking his head before he even opened his mouth.
*Normally I wouldn’t dare argue with your time management, I believe you know what you’re doing. But your mother also knows what she’s saying, knows the challenges and priorities you’re facing. Do you disagree with her? It’s not that I agree with her, I simply…* Sam sighed before shrugging. *It’s up to you, really, but I’ve been here four days and this is the first time in two years of being together that I’ve ever spent more time with other people while visiting than I have with you. It’s unusual.*
That made him pause, actually set down his list and think for a moment.
It was true. Sam had been here four days and though they’d spent three of those evenings and most of the meals together, his duties had pulled him away far more often than was usual. Though he knew Sam wasn’t feeling jilted, it was certainly a testament to his own state of mind that he hadn’t even noticed. It wouldn’t be the first time his mother was correct about his mindset.
He watched out the window again, taking a moment for the first time all day to admire the sun across the water, take in the beauty of his city. *Perhaps my mother is not entirely wrong.*
Sam just smiled. “Dinner? When the sun hits the mountains?”
“Very well, birdie, dinner.”
“Glad to hear it, I can’t wait, message me when you’re done.”
With a deadline, however gently given, T’Challa returned to work even more urgently. Oath appointments scheduled, a conference with the UN decided on and another agreement with them signed were the largest priorities, but he left the Jabari tribe for the next day due to his time constraint. A moment of distraction when reviewing Shuri’s project left him even shorter on time, but he sent her his concise thoughts before moving on.
Even with a conscientious effort, when he finally closed the projection and looked to the mountains it was to see the sun sunk nearly halfway past the peak of them. He shook his head, cursing silently, before quickly sweeping out of the room. He’d never been late to any of their planned meetings, though he’d teased Sam mercilessly the two times he had been. His tardiness today was probably just proving Sam’s point with dinner a little more succinctly.
When he made it to their quarters it was only to find an empty room, the small table in the lounge area tidy but void of dinner. Which meant Sam had meant for him to meet him somewhere. With another curse he finally looked to his beads, pulling up their messages but finding nothing from his insistent lover.
He turned in a circle through the space, searching for perhaps a missive he may have overlooked in his haste. When he didn’t find one he sent the question through his beads and waited impatiently for the reply.
He was so rarely ever late for anything; it was something he’d learned from his father, arrive early if you want to respect them or right on time if there is a question of power or authority. To be late for a dinner with Sam, Sam of all people, had never been his intention. Such a clear sign of disrespect would need to be rectified in some way. Perhaps he could-
A chime on his beads brought his head down. But instead of the gentle reprimand or perhaps considerable teasing he’d been expecting, Sam had sent only a set of coordinates. He frowned and with a single touch the location expanded in the air before him.
The point was high on a mountain, East down the river by nearly seven miles, closer to ten by the time he ascended the mountain. But there wasn’t really a question of whether he would meet Sam there, he’d go much further to apologize if needed, in fact he would later, but for now this was enough. With quick steps he moved to the wardrobe and discarded his usual tunic and robes, pulling on instead the loose clothing and sturdy shoes he preferred while training.
He could easily pilot a Talon or Dragon Flyer to get there, but he had a feeling this was one of those moments where Sam wanted to pull him out of his head and speed was not the way to do that. There was also the last time he’d met Sam somewhere and brought a Flyer instead of running, he’d been teased and called spoiled for weeks after. If possible, even if he was reprimanded for being late, he’d prefer to avoid that again.
The most direct way to the coordinates was actually through the city, which was unusual for Sam’s purposes, most of the time he preferred them to leave the city quickly. With a hood pulled over his head he wasn’t truly recognizable except by his speed, so he didn’t worry about it and instead used the time to glimpse any possible needs throughout his city. It was rare that his own city came to him for help, usually it was the outskirts that required attention. The border required upkeep, the farmland required irrigation, the herders required pasture. Here in the midst of his heart’s city, there were some needs as well. The bridge he crossed would require stabilizing before the next season’s floods filled the river, the road that wound before the children’s school would need to be smoothed and refinished. Perhaps he should also take some time to visit the resource centers here as well, he’d been too occupied with the Outreach Centers, he couldn’t allow himself to neglect any of his own people.
Though there were needs and duties within it, the heartbeat of Bernin Zana was strong, rejuvenating him as he recognized the strength and beauty in his homeland and people. Every pound of his feet pulled him further through and away but the pulse stayed with him, reminding him of his purpose.
Which naturally pulled his mind back to the remaining items on his list of duties. With nearly eight miles left he’d have plenty of time to organize his thoughts and consider tomorrow’s schedule, and if he did it before he arrived it would remove the stress of it from his time with Sam. Showing up late was bad enough, being preoccupied by duties was unthinkable.
Calling on M’Baku was required, he couldn’t put that off any longer, and though the conversation would be long he was sure it would be productive. A meeting with the Elders was necessary as it was everyday, but also a meeting with the city planners or Shuri to discuss the bridge and road could be fit in after lunch. The rhythm of his running lulled him into his mind, allowing him to focus a little easier than he’d done all day, aligning tasks easily while the wind brushed his skin and the noise of his movements slipped through his ears unacknowledged.
The only noise that finally registered was the sonic hum of Sam’s wingsuit in the air behind him. It was easily recognizable, the sound ingrained within him after being around it for so many years. Though he was still nearly a mile from the coordinates, which meant Sam had been watching for him. That spurred the guilt in his heart again as he turned.
Sam was dropped low in the air behind him, but instead of the greeting he’d been expecting, Sam swung his feet forward and kicked T’Challa sharp in the chest. It was obviously not pointed to harm, but it surprised him. Only his instincts rising automatically kept him from tumbling off balance and allowed the force to flip him backwards before he fell into a defensive stance.
Sam grinned, landing on the ground in front of him, a challenge in the tip of his lips and the bravado of his voice. “What, you didn’t hear me? Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ soft, your majesty.”
He rolled his eyes, eager suddenly to engage with Sam’s teasing almost as much as the sparring. “The only soft thing around here will be your landing when I put you on your back.”
“Bold words.” Sam threw his arms out to the side in open invitation before kicking off and letting his wings take his weight.
It was easy to fall into the mock combat, the pulse of his own blood through his veins and the rise of instincts long honed pulled him from one stance to the other, anticipating Sam’s attacks and countering with his own leaps and holds. They’d sparred so often together that holding back his strength was natural, he could tell Sam was also holding back with each connection made between their bodies.
As Sam used the ground and sky in a seamless flow, T’Challa used the terrain around himself, the trees, the slope of the mountain, the sun glinting through the leaves, and gained the upper hand each time Sam landed. He could tell Sam was extending their spar on purpose, allowing him a near victory before pushing off and away only to circle through the sky and come back down to engage again.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed this. They often trained together and he’d missed the way they fell into it, reading each other’s movements, anticipating, circling, pushing. It had been too long, weeks of separation keeping them from these intense and somehow intimate adrenaline filled moments.
Distracted as he was by enjoyment, it took him too long to realize Sam was herding him, guiding him further up the mountain. He knew the coordinates Sam had given him were further in that direction, but he had no desire to follow along without knowing what Sam had prepared for him.
But Sam had developed a pattern, probably without even recognizing it, and T’Challa didn’t hesitate to use it against him.
When Sam kicked off the ground once more to circle and return, T’Challa quickly leapt toward a tree he knew would be in range when he dipped again. Two quick pulls took him up the tree just as Sam swooped by and he kicked off, trusting the trajectory and Sam’s movements.
They collided hard in midair, T’Challa twisting at the last moment to allow the momentum to pull them toward the ground rather than dissipating into Sam’s flight. He took the fall himself, letting Sam land on top of him to avoid injury before quickly rolling the other man under him before he could even catch his breath.
Sam was always a valiant fighter, he didn’t give up easily even in training sessions, but a few short moments later he had Sam’s left hand-and the control panel on his forearm-pinned between his lower back and the ground. With his own weight pushing Sam down it was easier to tangle their legs together, taking leverage away from each of Sam’s counters.
It was only a brief harsh struggle later that Sam’s right hand, trapped under T’Challa’s arm, lifted enough to tap a submission onto the back of T’Challa’s shoulder.
*Yield, I yield.*
T’Challa had anticipated it and instantly released his holds, allowing both Sam’s arms and legs to come free before he let his weight fall, his head landing on Sam’s shoulder as their bodies aligned.
Sam was breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat covering his skin, the pulse of his heart tangible against T’Challa’s chest where they were pressed together. Though he wasn’t breathing as hard his own heart was racing, pushing his enhancements through his veins, creating a harmony as their blood rushed together. It always took time for them to come down from the rush of energy, and though he could easily move and continue his run without faltering he was content to wait until they were both recovered. Being pressed so perfectly against Sam, feeling his heartbeat, listening to the rush of his breath in his ear and relishing in the warmth of his skin wasn’t exactly a hardship.
Eventually Sam’s chest expanded in a deep breath and released slowly, a sure sign of his control returning. A moment later and warm fingers landed against the nape of his neck, slipping into his hair and scratching at his scalp.
“Hi, kitty cat. How’s your head?”
T’Challa frowned, thinking back to their movements and trying to recall if he’d been hit in the head at some point. When he couldn’t recall he lifted it enough to eye Sam in confusion.
Sam, of course, had his eyes closed as his head rested back against the dirt. He was casual and relaxed now, skin shining in the sunlight as it cooled, unaware of T’Challa’s silent question.
“My head?”
One eye opened enough to glance at him before Sam smiled and closed it again. “It’s been going nonstop for four days now, racing through all your responsibilities and priorities. Is it still going a thousand miles an hour or is it quiet now?”
He stilled, considering Sam’s words. It was true, his mind had been racing constantly, he just hadn’t realized Sam had even noticed, he himself had hardly noticed his preoccupation. That Sam had not only recognized what was going on, but also knew exactly what he needed to get out of it touched him more deeply than he expected. He was always so blessed by Sam’s presence in his life.
He laid his head back down slowly, eyes watching the dirt as he nestled into Sam’s shoulder again. His voice was low, still reeling in the face of Sam’s care. “It is quiet now.”
Sam turned his head enough to press a kiss to his scalp. “Good.”
“How did you know?” He was sure the question would bring teasing but he was curious. How had the last four days looked to Sam? How had T’Challa’s attitude affected him?
But instead of the expected answer, Sam again caught him by surprise. “How did I know you were too in your head to enjoy anything or think about anything besides king stuff?” He chuckled, the vibrations flowing into T’Challa’s own chest. “Your mom had some thoughts, but mostly it was you. Your voice when we were calling earlier, you barely looked at me, you were so preoccupied. I also followed you all the way from the Citadel, watched you run through the city and forest. The only reason you noticed is because I got closer. If you had been in your usual headspace you would have noticed me way before that.”
That… was true. He should have noticed, would normally have easily.
“You were so focused on everything around you and in your head, which I don’t blame you for, but I knew you needed some help getting out of it.”
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to appreciate the warmth filling him. *Thank you, my heart.*
*Gladly, my love.* Sam murmured back just before his voice strengthened again. “I’ve got dinner up the mountain a little, whenever you’re ready for it. I figured you deserved a quiet evening away from the lights and the responsibility.”
But T’Challa wasn’t quite ready for that yet, too content to bask in Sam’s love right here on the forest floor. “One more moment?”
Sam’s hand became firm against his head while his other arm slipped around his waist, pulling him into a strong embrace on top of Sam’s warmth. “As long as you need.”
When they finally made it to Sam’s small camp, perhaps a little longer than a moment later, dinner turned out to be a humble affair. Which suited T’Challa perfectly. A thick, hearty soup was waiting hot over the fire, and a seeded bread was waiting to be toasted.
They fell into step together easily, working to portion the soup and toast the bread in sync as Sam began to recount all that he’d been up to in the past four days. T’Challa found himself quietly frustrated for missing so much, but that was easier to push away with each of Sam’s soft smiles.
He listened readily as Sam joked about training with Ayo and the other Dora, spoke fondly of his meetings with T’Challa’s mother, and even expressed a bit of concern in regards to the new lab technician who seemed far more interested in Shuri than any of the technology he was allowed to access in the lab. T’Challa frowned with that and decided to stop by Shuri’s lab in person the next day to check on that himself, his sister’s safety was important.
It was another statement to his ease of mind that his mental schedule was easily rearranged to include a trip to the lab. Without the fog of responsibility he was able to see that that was exactly what it had been, a fog, separating him and confusing his sense of direction. Thank Bast he could rely on Sam to guide him back to solid ground and a clear mind.
They watched the sunset as they ate, admiring the land and city below them, then washing the dishes they’d used in the mountain spring not far from their camp. He let Sam repack things, recognizing that there was more than simply dishes in the pile of equipment Sam had brought but content not to spoil any of Sam’s plans. Sam would tell him when they were both ready.
Instead of revealing anything though, Sam simply pulled him close in front of the fire as the stars began to shine. They sat close on the log, T’Challa’s eyes on the city below them while Sam’s drifted to the heavens, his chin tilted up as he traced the constellations with his gaze. He’d pulled both of T’Challa’s hands into his lap, stroking idle patterns on his skin as they sat in silence.
T’Challa didn’t know how to put into words how much all of this meant to him, how much he felt the love Sam had for him as the forest came alive around them.
He sighed contentedly, dropping his head lower to rest his chin on Sam’s shoulder, tilting closer to relish more of the warmth radiating from his lover.
Sam hummed back at him, a nonverbal communication, and reached one arm across his lap to hook a hand around the outside of his knee, effectively pulling him closer and creating a shelter for T’Challa to relax into.
The lights of his city were bright, but as he traced them he found himself dreading returning to them. In this moment, in this embrace, all he wanted was to linger, keep at bay the duties and stresses of his mantle, allow himself to simply be a man in love, to cherish and be cherished in return.
He closed his eyes and sighed again, slightly heavier than the last. “Must we return to the city tonight?”
The shake of Sam’s head was gentle, a brush against T’Challa’s hair. “Nope,” The last consonant popped in that way that was so characteristic. “We can stay out here all night if that’s what you want.”
Peace flooded through him at the reassurance. He tilted his head even closer, lips brushing Sam’s neck as he whispered. “Yes, yes, that is what I want.”
A press of lips to his forehead calmed him, drowned him in the steady comfort Sam offered, the pleasant cadence of his quiet voice. “Okay.”
They sat there as the sky filled with stars and the forest hummed around them, as lights dimmed in the city below and the rest of the continent fell to sleep. They sat together, intertwined, content in each other’s embrace. And T’Challa knew that there was no place he’d rather be than surrounded by Sam’s love and security, knowing even if he fell, Sam would always know how to catch him, would always know how to hold him together, would always give him what he needed.