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Fit was almost out of breath by the time he made it to the quarters to keep endangered royals, heading to the very last door at the end of the hallway. He hoped to god that his prince was still there, safe and sound. When he arrived at the door and knocked to the rhythm of a signal that only he and the prince knew, he waited for the door to be open. He heard somebody shuffling inside, walking closer, and the door swung open, showing a very worried-looking prince Pac. He was wearing his white long-sleeved under shirt and pants, since he was disturbed in his slumber in the middle of the night by the warning of the attackers showing up.
“Meu deus, Fitch, you’re alright,” Pac sighed, relieved, as he moved out of the way for Fit to enter. Fit walked into the panic room and sat on one of the nearby stools, feeling his muscles ache from overuse. He stared at Pac, scanning him to see if he had any more injuries on him. Besides the one slash across his cheek, now patched up, he had no other injuries. He sighed, relieved, as he watched Pac close the door, locked it and walk towards him.
Fit took a quick look around the safe room. It was pretty spacious, full of furniture. There was a sofa, a dresser full of extra clothing, and a regular-sized bed. There was also another door leading to a smaller room, in case the main one became breached. There was even a stash of sustaining food, in case the royal had to stay in the safe room for a longer period of time.
Although Fit was glad Pac wasn’t injured anywhere else, deep down, he was very upset at the prince. The entire time he was fighting, he wasn’t gritting his teeth frustrated with trying to kill the enemy. He was thinking about the entire scenario that happened earlier that night, between the attacker, him, and his prince. How he was still out in the open, vulnerable to anything and everything. Why? What was Pac doing? Did he have a death wish?
“Fitch, my knight, let me see if I can patch you up.” His prince smiled at him warmly as he grabbed the box full of medical supplies. Fit couldn’t stay stubborn to that face, so he nodded. He still had questions to ask though.
Fit had some cuts under his arms, but nothing too serious. Pac helped Fit take all his armor off, leaving him in his black undershirt and pants. The prince then helped take off his ruined shirt and started working swiftly, cleaning the slashes and patching them up.
If anyone else saw the two of them doing this, they would have Fit’s head. The royal titles between Fit and Pac faded away months ago, feeling more like close friends than a knight and a prince. Pac and Fit had a nice friendship hidden underneath the public, and it was a month ago that Fit started to realize that he felt a lot more than platonicness for the prince. He felt his heart sing whenever his prince laughed, and he felt it ache when he was stressed out with his role as the eldest prince. Fit, as Prince Pac's knight, had the pleasure and pain to see plenty of that behind the scenes, from making him laugh to embracing him when he cried. He made an oath to himself that he would do anything for his prince to be happy and protected.
That was why it bothered him so much to see Pac put himself in danger.
“Your Highness,” Fit said lowly, as Pac was still fixing his wounds.
The tone of the knight’s voice threw Pac off, and he looked up to his face. “What’s with the honorifics, Fit? You know you don’t have to call me that.”
“Don’t play dumb, prince,” Fit replied, “What were you doing out there?”
Fit watched Pac tighten his lips as he looked down, and kept patching his wounds. The knight’s patience was slipping when the prince didn’t respond.
“Pac.” Fit said firmly.
Pac laughed nervously. “I got lost, Fit. That’s all.”
“But you know the drill when our kingdom gets attacked, you’ve practiced it a thousand times. You know this.”
Pac sighed shakily as he turned away from Fit, walking towards the dresser to grab a shirt for him.
“I…” Pac grabbed a clean black shirt and walked back to Fit, handing it to him. As Fit was putting the shirt on, he heard Pac mutter to himself. When he was done, Pac was looking down at his feet again.
The prince had never been this tongue-tied before, and it was confusing the hell out of Fit. So he decided to try to be patient, studying Pac’s face as he tried to get his words out.
“You know how much I hate my duties, Fit,” Pac stated sadly, “And how much I hate my role as eldest prince.”
Fit nodded sympathetically.
“Well, it wasn’t just me fooling around, or wanting death because of my title. I had a reason.”
“Whatever reason it was,” Fit interrupted, “It was still incredibly reckless. What would’ve happened if I didn’t intervene in time, Pac? What if I saw…”
“I know, I know, Fit, you would’ve been hung for sure, and it would be all my fault. But you did. You saved me, and I never doubted it for a second.”
Fit was astonished by Pac’s response. “Do you really think I care about being hung?”
Pac looked up from staring at the floor, stared at him with confusion, and tilted his head. “I care about you being hung, Fit. I don’t want that to happen.”
Fit nearly laughed. “Pac, you’re the prince, the eldest prince actually. You have a ton more worries than to care about a knight like me.”
Pac suddenly huffed in anger. “Fit, I want to slap you. You piss me off so much.”
Hearing those words come out of his prince’s mouth, as well as the adorable pout on his face, made Fit cackle over in laughter. He almost fell out of the stool he was sitting on.
He heard Pac make a noise in irritation of the knight’s laughter.
“I’m being serious Fitch!” He heard the prince mutter in Portuguese, covering his hands with his face.
Fit stopped his laughing, to not annoy his prince further. “I’m sorry, my prince. Please, continue. I am listening.”
Pac nodded, and looked down to his feet again, seeming incredibly nervous.
“Is it so bad…” Pac tried to speak, but then trailed off. He inhaled a deep breath and tried talking again. “Is it so terrible, that I wanted to make sure my knight was okay?”
“Pac…” Fit whispered sentimentally. He wanted to touch him, comfort him, he wanted to wrap his hands around his waist and kiss him. He settled with reaching down to hold Pac’s hand. He intertwined their fingers, and rubbed his thumb against the knuckle he could reach, doing his best to put all the love he had for the prince into the gesture. Pac reacted to the touch with a sharp inhale, and moved a bit closer towards Fit.
“I just couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Pac continued, staring at their hands and fingers intertwined, “I know you could handle it, but I was so scared. I escaped from the knights trying to escort me and went looking for you.”
Once Pac was able to confess, the words started spilling out of his mouth with no break. Fit did his best to listen to his prince as held his hand tightly.
“I kept running and running, and when I finally found you, I saw someone sneaking up behind you, ready to kill.” Pac furrowed his eyebrows. “I couldn’t just watch that happen Fitch! I had to do something. I attacked him, and since I had no weapon, I lost.” He looked up to stare at Fit with watery eyes and beamed. “But I knew the moment you saw me that I would be okay.”
Fit couldn’t help but gaze at Pac shocked, not even realizing that his prince tackled that intruder, just to save him.
“You saved me, Pac?” Fit asked, and Pac nodded. “Holy shit, that guy did look pretty beat up, I didn’t even realize.” Fit then chuckled, wishing he could’ve seen the sight. “Oh, if you had a weapon, my prince, he would be as good as gone. I would have loved to see that.”
“So you’re not mad?” Pac asked.
“I’m still upset you would put yourself in danger like that, but never mad. Why would I ever be mad at you, my prince?”
“Well, for starters, if I died, they would’ve blamed you for it. The best they could do to you is to make you nameless and exile you. The worst is that they would torture you for-”
“Pac.” Fit interrupted softly, and Pac shut his mouth and looked at him sheepishly.
Fit took a deep breath.
“I wouldn’t know what I would do if I saw you die in front of my eyes.”
He felt Pac tighten the hold of the knight’s hand. His eyes widened with awe.
“I wouldn’t care about being hung or tortured. I wouldn’t care about my title. I would be devastated if somebody I loved dearly was killed in front of me, and I wasn’t able to do a damn thing about it.”
“Te amo também, Fitch.” Pac declared almost immediately.
Fit saw Pac’s eyes full of tenderness for his knight, and he also noticed that they were darting to the lower half of his face. Fit was doing the same, staring at Pac’s lips. He let Pac speak first.
“Fitch, can I-”
“Yes, please.”
Pac rushed forward and crashed his lips into Fit’s, grabbing onto his shirt with dear life. Fit kissed back, tilting his head, and their lips aligned like it was two puzzle pieces connecting. He wrapped his hands around the prince’s waist, feeling the skin below his thin shirt.
He let his prince take control, feeling his lips move and following his lead. Pac’s arms wrapped around Fit’s neck, bringing them impossibly closer. They wanted to be so close that they felt their own heartbeats against each other’s chests. So close that they melted into one, so that they wouldn’t have to split apart again.
After a minute or two, Fit had enough of the stool he was sitting on. He ushered Pac to move out of his legs so he could stand, Pac’s arms still on Fit’s shoulders. He then reached his arms to the prince’s thighs, and picked him up in one swift motion. He heard Pac gasp, but hooked his legs around Fit’s hips.
“Is this alright, my prince?” Fit asked, hands still on the prince’s thighs to keep them secured.
“Don’t call me that when we’re kissing, Fitch,” Pac groaned, “But yes.” Fit felt a light kiss to the back of his neck.
The knight chuckled as he walked them to the door, and pressed Pac against it. He reached his hand over to the door-knob to make sure it was locked, and moved it back to hold Pac’s legs.
“Is this okay, Pac?”
Pac enthusiastically nodded, face flushed red, “More than okay.”
Fit then moved forward to capture Pac’s lips, kissing each other again. One of Pac’s hands moved to cup Fit’s face. They didn’t know or remember which one did it first, but one of them opened their mouth, welcoming the other to a deeper kiss, and the other eagerly obliged.
Every time they would split to breathe, one of them would chase after the other’s lips. Every time they would press their lips together again, the prince would sigh in contentment, and it made Fit satisfied beyond belief. Pac would nip Fit’s lower lip sometimes, and it was a relishing feeling. Fit would kiss Pac for so long, he would feel him melt against him.
They had no idea how long they were making out, but every time they would pull back to breathe, Pac’s lips visibly became more red, his pupils more blown out, and his face more flushed. The knight was obsessed with it, obsessed with that look on his prince’s face. He hoped that he got to see it all the time now that this barrier between them had broken.
Unfortunately, Fit had some questions about that, so he broke the kiss, burrowing his face into Pac’s neck.
“Pac,” He breathed out, “What do we do now? What do you want to do now?”
The knight felt the prince sigh, tightening his arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, “I never wanted to be a prince, and never felt like I had a purpose. But now that I know how you feel, I want to run away with you, Fitch. I want to live a normal life with you.”
Fit pressed a soft kiss onto Pac’s neck, “When do we do that?”
“As soon as possible. I don’t know how we’re going to run away, but we will find a way to do it, I know it.”
As Pac was speaking, Fit kept pressing gentle kisses on Pac’s neck, feeling him become weaker with every single one.
“I will do whatever you ask Pac. Your knight or not, I will do whatever you want.”
“Fitche,” Pac spoke with all of the love in the world, “You are too good to me.”