Work Text:
—
“There we go, your highness,” Fit says with a decisive nod, after finishing the preparations and last minute security sweeps of the prince’s chambers. “Another night of beauty sleep awaits you.”
Prince Pac eyes him curiously, head tilted slightly to the side. “I don’t think I get enough sleep, if that’s the case,” he jokes, but the smile isn’t believable in the slightest.
“Now, now, your highness,” Fit tuts. “You think this superficial kingdom would obey you if you were an uggo? I think not,” he’s grinning, and Pac laughs softly, which makes Fit’s grin grow wider.
“What’s an uggo? That’s a funny word,” Pac muses.
“My son taught me it a few days ago, apparently a child that moved into the kingdom recently started using it in the school grounds. Means an ugly person - the kid pointed and shouted it at another kid and got laid out cold.”
Pac presses his lips together for a moment. “I’ll need to hold counsel with my educational advisor to enforce stricter rules on derogatory terms. They’re just as damaging as battles.”
“I completely agree, your highness,” Fit holds up his hands. “As someone that has experienced both, they both leave scars.”
And he half expects his prince to either laugh in his face or tell him to shut up, it’s what people usually do.
But Prince Pac looks at him with such sympathy it’s almost overwhelming.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Fitch,” Pac says softly. “If it helps, you’re one of the strongest people I know, in every sense.”
And that inflates Fit’s ego to twenty times its size - it’s more often than not a curse, his huge embarrassing crush on the prince, but it also appears to be a kingdom-wide epidemic, everyone is infatuated with the prince with nowhere to vent their feelings.
But Fit’s the only one that gets to see him every day without fail, and that’s what he clings to.
“Good thing you chose me as your bodyguard then, your highness.” Fit smiles, and Prince Pac returns it.
“I made the best choice, and you earned that position,” the black haired prince agrees. “But I think at this point we can finally drop the Prince Pac and your highness thing, can’t we?”
Fit’s throat suddenly goes dry - is he being tested?
“Am I- am I allowed to do that?”
Pac laughs openly, it’s a beautiful sound.
“Of course, Fitch,” he says. “You thought you weren’t?”
Fit feels his face redden. “I don’t want to break the boundaries of my position.”
“There are none,” Pac assures him. “You are my personal bodyguard and our lives are probably more entwined than anyone else’s in the kingdom. You need to be able to relax.”
Fit nods slowly, not entirely convinced. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Pac smiles. “Now, I need you to tell me the latest stories from the tavern!”
Fit leans against the wall by the door and smiles. “Well, you know how last week we deployed the brother-sister detectives on a reconnaissance mission on the next kingdom over?”
Pac nods. “There’s nobody better we could’ve sent.”
“Well,” Fit continues. “They found more than they thought - both brought back a romantic partner.”
Pac gasps, eyes sparkling with excitement. “No way! My advisors didn’t inform me of this!”
“Why would they?” Fit laughs. “But yeah, Cellbit’s partner is already building a new store on the eastern market, and Bagi’s partner is currently volunteering at the school - the children love her, apparently.”
“Perfect additions to our kingdom, then!” Pac smiles. “I love when things work out like that.”
“I think you’re the only royal figure that would care more about the fofoca of the residents than the political sphere,” Fit teases.
Pac waves the comment away.
“A kingdom is only as strong as its least happy resident,” he says, a genuine belief behind the words. “That’s why i’m so glad you can keep me updated.”
And maybe Fit’s heart flips, maybe.
“Of course, anything I can do to help you, I will do so in a heartbeat.”
Pac smiles, a slight blush spreading across his face.
Outside the chamber doors, the guards change over for the night shift, and it usually signifies the changing of bodyguards - Fit takes a shift from sunrise to midnight, and spends the nights with Ramon.
Usually.
A knock on the door grabs their attention, and a deep voice asks if they are ready for the change over.
“Please give us a moment,” Pac calls back, and the voice retreats with a ‘of course, your highness’.
“Fitch,” Pac takes a step closer. He reaches out his hand, then retracts it just before his fingers graze Fit’s arm. “Would you stay?”
And Fit’s brain short circuits, and he’s pretty sure that his remaining brain cells are probably smattered all over the crown marble walls.
And the thing is, he can. Ramon is having a sleepover with Sunny at her house, after her father has finally completed the latest prototype of his recent invention that Ramon is going to help tinker with.
Fit was planning to drink away the night at the tavern, maybe find someone to take home or engage in a twilight brawl.
But at seeing his prince’s pleading gaze, he loses ability to control his body except to nod slowly.
Pac gasps quietly and mumbles something under his breath that Fit can’t understand.
He grabs a small coin bag and opens the door to the replacement bodyguard.
“Please consider this a token of my gratefulness, and enjoy your free night. My other bodyguard has kindly agreed to extend his duties.”
The other bodyguard looks over Pac’s shoulder, locking his gaze with Fit’s. Fit nods again.
“Thank you, Prince Pac,” the bodyguard bows dutifully and puts up no other fight, immediately retreating down the hallway.
Pac closes the door, and walks over to the towering bookcase lining the back wall, tilts one of the huge anthologies and immediately a hidden doorway pops open, to a darkened hallway lit by very dim candlelight. Fit notes that it looks like it was hollowed out somewhat recently.
“It’s cool, huh?” Pac smiles. “When the renowned builder, Foolish, last visited the kingdom, I paid him handsomely to make me somewhat of a getaway.”
“Does anyone know about this?” Fit asks, still marvelling at the structure in front of him.
“Well, me, Foolish,” Pac curls two of his fingers down, “And now you. Let’s go!”
He sets off walking through the dim tunnel, and Fit has to practically jog to keep up with him.
Pac pulls a lever somewhere in the tunnel as he passes, and the hidden door in the bookcase closes behind them.
Eventually, at the end of the tunnel, Pac pulls another lever and the door in front of them pops open, leading to a beautifully candlelit boudoir.
A bay window spans across the back wall - and in a castle designed with multiple doors that lead to nowhere and multiple windows holding no rooms behind them, in order to confuse potential invaders, Fit isn’t surprised that the room hasn’t been discovered yet.
The floor is a shiny black and white chequered tile, and the room is devoid of furniture - presumably to avoid detection - other than a bundle of blankets and cushions in one corner of the room, and a metal box shoved against another wall.
“This is where I come to think, sometimes, when it’s all too much,” Pac announces, nervously.
When Fit turns to face him, managing to tear his gaze away from the intricate stars and swirls embedded in the ceiling, Pac has his hands behind his back and is looking at the ground.
“It’s beautiful, Pac,” Fit says with complete honesty, and allows himself to internally celebrate that he remembered not to put Pac’s title before his name. “Thank you so much for sharing with me.”
Pac merely nods.
“How did you manage to do this without anyone noticing, though? It’s genuinely impressive.”
Pac scoffs. When Fit faces him this time, Pac is already looking back at him.
“Fitch, people don’t care. I’ve been here every night for the past week, just sneaking back about ten minutes before sunrise, and has anyone noticed?”
He sounds completely defeated, and it fills Fit with an undeniable anger - at everyone in the world for not appreciating Pac as much as he deserves to be.
Pac laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only that sees me.”
“What do you mean?”
Pac grabs one of the cushions and a blanket from the corner of the room, drops the cushion in the middle of the room, facing the window, and drops onto it with a soft thud, the blanket draped over his shoulders.
Fit follows suit as he waits for an answer.
“People see a prince, a leader, nearly a monarch. I don’t know the last time someone saw a person beneath the crown, behind the title.” Pac is still looking out of the window as he speaks, and pulls his knees close to his chest.
“Those people don’t deserve you,” Fit says, looking straight at Pac. “I know the person beneath the crown, and I think he’s pretty fucking cool.”
Pac smiles briefly. “Some would say I don’t deserve them, for the most part the kingdom treats me well.”
“Does it?” Fit persists. “Pac, excuse me if i’m speaking out of turn, but sitting here now, you don’t exactly strike me as happy.”
“Happy is overrated,” Pac replies.
“A few years ago, I would have agreed with you,” Fit says, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “But after I adopted Ramon, it’s like I found a new lease of life, and it was a happiness unlike anything i’ve ever felt or likely ever will again.”
“I’m sure you and your partner are raising him admirably,” Pac says with a smile.
“No partner, just me,” Fit replies. “I’ve given up trying to find that now, never ends happily.”
Pac nods but otherwise sits silently, staring out of the window. Fit does the same, not wanting to break the pleasant silence.
They watch as a firefly dances outside of the window, leaving a faint glow where it flew, and it causes Fit to smile - Ramon will love hearing about the firefly, he’s still convinced they’re as mythical as unicorns.
“Fitch, can you be honest with me?” It’s Pac that breaks the silence, and Fit is surprised to find that Pac has shifted so that he is sat cross-legged facing him now.
Fit adjusts so he is facing Pac, and nods. “Always.”
Pac bites his lip for a moment and avoids Fit’s gaze.
“Why do you stay here? You’re a magnificent warrior, you could be serving any kingdom in any war and bringing home the win, but instead you stay as a bodyguard to a self-conscious prince. Why?”
“Wow, the deep stuff,” Fit laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “And I guess it’s an answer of two parts - when I tried to sign up to battle, before I found Ramon, I was basically laughed out due to, you know,” he wiggles his prosthetic arm. Pac presses his lips together. “And secondly, to dedicate my life to protecting yours is the biggest honour I could receive, and I thank my blessings every day that I am allowed to continue by your side. I would not want to be anywhere else.”
A silence follows, and Fit watches as a few tears trickle down his prince’s face, and fights every instinct to wipe them away.
As soon as Pac realises, he wipes the tears away with his blanket.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “That’s just the nicest thing I think anyone has ever said to me.”
“Then I will dedicate every day to telling you more truths until you can recite them to yourself.”
The tears continue to fall down Pac’s cheeks, now too frequent and numerous for him to quickly wipe away.
Fit remains still, despite every fibre of his being wanting to do something, anything, to help the situation, but he would never dare do anything to cause any discomfort to his prince.
“Fitch, can I be honest with you, now?” Pac says once his tears have mostly stopped, and his breathing is only slightly off beat.
“I would encourage it.”
Pac bites his lip again, and looks up at the ceiling for a few moments before sighing and meeting Fit’s gaze.
“Can you…” he pauses and bites his lip for another second. “Touch me?”
Thankfully Fit isn’t sat on a chair, as he would have rolled straight off of it in shock and probably smashed his skull open on the tiled floor.
Somehow, he manages to stay composed for the most part. “Touch you?”
Pac looks back down at the floor and nods, he begins threading the blanket through his fingers, presumably as a distraction.
“It’s been an embarrassingly long time. People either flee the room when I enter, like i’m going to execute them or something, or treat me like i’m made of porcelain. Nobody treats me like a person.”
Fit gulps. “What do you mean by touch you?”
Pac shrugs. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, I can’t believe i’ve even asked you. I’m so sorry, we can just-“
“No, Pac,” Fit interjects, and shuffles closer so that their knees are touching. Pac meets his gaze with wide eyes, silently questioning what will happen next.
Fit pulls him into a hug, and he’s quite surprised at how Pac’s form slots into his as comfortably as he’s currently experiencing.
Pac gasps softly, but immediately wraps his arms around Fit and pulls him closer, and nuzzles his face further into Fit’s chest.
Fit holds his prince for a few long moments, and only pulls away when Pac does.
Pac sits back and is sporting a bright blush.
“Thank you,” he says, and reaches behind him to the metal box, and retrieves a bottle of some form of alcohol. He takes a long sip, and holds the bottle out to Fit.
With little to no hesitation, Fit takes the bottle from Pac’s hand, and their fingers brush in the gentlest of ways during the exchange, and almost instantly Pac’s hand twitches and releases the bottle, but thankfully Fit catches it.
Pac is breathing heavier than he was a moment ago, and is looking down at his hand as if he’d never seen it before.
“Sorry,” Fit says, looking down at his own non-flesh hand. “Should’ve warned you it might feel a bit odd.”
“Not odd at all,” Pac says, curling and uncurling his fingers as if he’d never done so before. “My skin is tingling.”
He looks at Fit with unadulterated excitement in his eyes.
“May I?” Pac asks, holding out his hands.
As if on instinct, Fit places down the bottle and places his hands atop Pac’s.
Pac’s breath catches for a moment, but he quickly curls his fingers around Fit’s, and runs his thumbs over the back of Fit’s hands.
“Sorry, I know this is so unusual,” Pac apologises, still marvelling down at Fit’s hands in his own. “I’ve just never…”
“You don’t need to apologise,” Fit assures him, and gently squeezes Pac’s hands, eliciting the smallest of gasps from the other man.
“Pac, please tell me again if I am speaking out of turn, but,” he swallows thickly. “Have you ever…”
He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Pac bites his lip and Fit can feel Pac’s hands stiffen beneath his own.
The unanswered questions hangs in the air. Fit almost misses the hustle and bustle of the main parts of the castle, it means he’s never in pure silence. But here, with Pac, it’s just them, candlelight, blankets, and their hearts on the line.
“When I was ten years old, some nobles from a few kingdoms over came for a royal banquet, I think my elders at the time were seeking a peace treaty,” he recalls, looking down at Fit’s hands still and focusing on tracing a dainty swirl on the other man’s skin. “And their son and I got bored so we went to play in the garden, by the fountain. It was his idea, get out first kisses out of the way so we would know what to do when we were older, and were to be married.”
Fit nods in understanding. “That makes sense. Kinda adorable too.”
“It would be,” Pac sighs. “If i’d followed it up with any other experience.”
“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Pac,” Fit comforts him, squeezing his hands.
“Thing is, Fitch,” Pac begins, meeting his gaze. “It’s not like I haven’t tried - the arranged partnerships never worked out, and i’ve yet to meet a noble that I haven’t wanted to kick out of my castle for one reason or other.”
“What about outside of nobility? There was a rumour in the tavern last month of the crown princess from three kingdoms over donning a disguise and fraternising with the townsfolk, apparently had a wild night with the blacksmith.”
Pac visibly cringes.
“I could never be so brazen like that!” he laughs breathlessly. “I need that foundation first.”
“In which case maybe the tavern isn’t the best place for you to meet someone,” Fit laughs. “There’s a reason our kingdom has the lowest marriage rates in the region.”
Pac shrugs. “I just don’t feel the need to enforce it as a law, if people love each other, why do they need a piece of paper to prove it?”
Fit nods. “I couldn’t agree more. Yet another admirable thing about you.”
Pac’s blush deepens.
“There’s another reason, I suppose, for the whole… lack of experience.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Pac smiles. “I know, Fitch. That’s what makes it so easy to say.”
Fit simply blinks, waiting for him to continue.
“I’ve tried the arranged partnerships, even entertained more than one banquet and garish ball in their honour, but I never felt that,” he pauses. “Connection, you know?”
Fit nods. “The connection would make things easier,” he gently pulls one of his hands out of Pac’s and brings the bottle to his lips - cherry wine. “But why do you think you never felt it?”
“Because they’re not you.”
And the wine that Fit just tipped into his mouth comes straight back out, attractively spilling down his chin and onto his blanket in a single deep red line.
Not knowing what else to do as his fried brain tries to process what his prince said, he takes another long sip from the bottle.
He notices that Pac is watching him intently, watching as he swallows the wine gratefully, and how Pac’s gaze lingers there for a moment longer.
“You’re the only person I feel entirely comfortable with,” Pac continues. “You’re the only one I could see… anything with.”
Fit licks his lips and takes another short sip of the rich wine.
“Your highness,” he says, voice deeper and raspier than it was a few minutes ago through no fault of his own. Pac evidently notices too as his eyes widen, and nods. “Can I ask you a question?”
Pac bites his lip nervously and wrings his hands on his lap, but nods.
Fit gulps and wipes his hands against his blanket.
“Can I kiss you?”
And part of him is expecting Pac to pull away and laugh, laugh that this was all a joke to see if he could finally break Fit down.
“Gods, yes,” Pac breathes in response.
Fit closes the gap between them, cupping Pac’s cheek with his hand, gently stroking the skin with his thumb, before leaning in and brushing his lips against the prince’s.
And to say that Pac hadn’t kissed anyone since he was a child, Fit definitely would not have been able to tell.
Pac deepens the kiss almost instantly, and somehow ends up sat on Fit’s lap within seconds. When they need to break apart for breath, Pac spends the time pressing kisses down the length of Fit’s neck, occasionally nipping the skin in a way that sends thrills and sparks of excitement right through the older man’s body.
Fit’s brain still hasn’t caught up to the current events, and so he is acting entirely on impulse. And every impulse is telling him to enjoy the moment, keep kissing the prince he’s been silently enamoured with for years now, and so he does.
When he’s finished grazing his lips over Fit’s neck, Pac pauses, and rests his forehead against Fit’s, strands of his silky hair falling in the exact place to prevent them making eye contact.
They’re both breathing heavily, panting even, but both smiling widely.
“You know,” Fit says. “I learned another new term that my son taught me.”
Pac hums in his ear, it’s a delicious sound.
“Touch starved,” Fit continues.
Pac laughs, and pulls back, pushing his hair out of his eyes and strokes Fit’s cheek with his thumb.
“That was definitely me,” he laughs again. “Thank you for feeding me.”
It’s Fit’s turn to laugh, and Pac soon joins in, both of them laughing at the ridiculousness of the statement.
“I’m still a little hungry,” Pac says, lowering his voice and licking his lips. “Touch hungry.”
Fit meets his gaze. “Do you trust me, Pac?”
Before he even finishes his question, Pac is nodding. “With my life and everything in it.”
And with his heart swelling in his chest, Fit wraps his arms around Pac and gently lowers him to the ground, making sure the blanket that was around his shoulders is now spread underneath him comfortably.
Pac continues watching him with wide, eager eyes, pupils dilated for good measure, and makes quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and tucking the fabric underneath his back.
And Fit can’t help the slight gasp that escapes him when he sets sight on the lengthy scar that spreads across most of the prince’s chest.
It’s known kingdom wide that the prince suffered a heavy injury when fighting in a war once upon a time - well before Fit took on the role of bodyguard. It was a battle that some of the knights refer to as purgatory, as one second they were winning and the next they weren’t, tasting both heaven and hell in a matter of hours.
Whilst the scar has healed as well as it can, Fit knows firsthand that the pain never truly goes away, mentally or physically.
“It’s disgusting, I know,” Pac says, attempting to sit up.
Fit gently pushes him back down and dips his head down to ever so softly press his lips to the edge of the scar, and follow the pattern around Pac’s chest.
Throughout, he can hear Pac gasping and panting, and he links his fingers with Fit’s and squeezes them tightly.
“You’re beautiful, Pac,” Fit says as he finishes dotting butterfly kisses around the scar. “And it’s about damn time someone proved that to you.”
Pac’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t respond, simply nods with glassy eyes and squeezes Fit’s hand.
Fit retracts one of his hands from Pac’s and grazes his fingertips down the prince’s chest, smiling when the other man’s breath hitches.
He rests his hand on Pac’s hip and runs his thumb across the dip of his skin, and grins down at the other man.
Pac sits up and pulls Fit into a deep kiss with a newfound confidence that Fit finds himself enjoying more than he probably should, and there’s not anything that he thinks he wouldn’t let Pac do.
He also thinks it may be the first time he’d willingly relinquish control.
Pac wraps his arms around Fit’s neck and kisses him with passion, and it fills Fit with a pleasant warmth from head to toe.
“I fear we may have a problem,” Pac says when they break apart, his forehead pressed against Fit’s.
“What is it?”
There’s a few seconds of silence, pierced only by their gentle pants as air gets back into their lungs. The tension is palpable.
“I worry I may be always starved if it’s not like this,” he says with a smile, and presses a fleeting kiss to the tip of Fit’s nose.
“You let me worry about that, my prince,” Fit smiles back, and brushes Pac’s hair out of the way, so that he can look into the dark eyes he has been in love with for so long. “I’ll always be on hand for sustenance.”
They share a quiet laugh, breaths mingling together.
The rest of the night is spent tangled up in each other - Fit doesn’t think he sleeps any longer than half an hour, he can’t switch his mind off and has no desire to focus on anything other than the man in his arms.
By the time the candles have died out and the sun is threatening to peek through the remaining nighttime clouds, Fit scoops Pac up in his arms and carries him back through the tunnel and places him on his bed.
Just as he’s about to slip out of the room to pretend he’s been there the whole night, Pac sits up, the springs in the mattress creaking.
“Where are you going?” Pac asks, wiping at his tired eyes.
“The chambermaids will be here any moment, and I can smell that the cooks are preparing your breakfast as we speak, my prince,” he explains, pausing in the open doorway. “You must be starving.”
He casts a wink that causes Pac to blush deeply and bury his head in his hands for a moment.
“On the contrary,” he laughs. “I feel perfectly content, but I suppose we must indulge.”
Fit nods. “Probably a good idea.”
“Will you be joining me, Fitch?” Pac asks, raising an eyebrow. “You must be pretty starved yourself.”
“I will join you wherever you go, Pac. That’s a promise.”
And just in case Fit was ever in doubt that Pac believed him, the kiss that the prince gave him after the statement eradicated any lingering worries, the very second that his back hit the door and the other man’s body was pressed against his.
—