Work Text:
Beneath the lights
The snow crunched softly beneath their boots as they walked, the only sound in the vast silence of the Norwegian mountains. The air was crisp, biting, but not unbearable—not when adrenaline thrummed beneath Kant’s skin like a second heartbeat.
Bison walked ahead, his eyes scanning the horizon, searching. Kant didn’t need to ask what for. This had been Bison’s dream for as long as he could remember—to see the northern lights, to stand beneath their shifting colors and witness something bigger than himself.
Kant, on the other hand, had only one thing on his mind. He clenched the small box in his pocket, fingers numb even through his gloves. He had practiced this in his head a thousand times, but now, with the moment upon him, his thoughts felt like tangled wires.
They reached a small clearing, a ridge overlooking the valley below. Snow stretched endlessly in all directions, a vast, untouched expanse. And then—
Bison gasped.
It started as a faint shimmer, barely noticeable against the night sky. But then the colors deepened, swirling ribbons of green and blue unfurling like silk across the darkness. It was breathtaking. Otherworldly.
Bison stood still, breath visible in the cold air, his wide eyes reflecting the dancing lights above. “Kant,” he whispered, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the magic. “They’re real.”
Kant swallowed, smiling despite the hammering of his heart. “Told you.”
Bison didn’t respond—he was already lost in the moment, stepping forward, head tilted back in awe. Kant watched him, the way the light painted over his sharp features, the wonder that softened them. He looked so peaceful. So happy.
And Kant knew. Now or never.
He exhaled, shaking his arms out as if physically pushing out his nerves. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulders. “You got this. You’re cool. You’re—oh, okay.”
He dropped to one knee in the snow, and immediately regretted it. The cold shot through his pants, straight to the bone.
“Shit,” he hissed, shifting slightly.
Bison, still transfixed by the sky, hadn’t noticed.
Kant cleared his throat. Nothing.
“Bison,” he tried again, louder this time.
Bison didn’t turn.
Kant clenched his jaw. “Bison.”
Still nothing.
The cold was creeping in now, numbing his knee. “Oh, come on,” Kant muttered, exasperated. He waved a hand, but Bison was too absorbed in the aurora to notice.
“Hey!” Kant called, louder now.
No reaction.
“Bison, babe—seriously—”
Bison sighed dreamily, still gazing up. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kant rolled his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. “It was gonna be, but you’re kinda ruining the moment here, penguin”
Bison finally glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
Kant stared at him.
Bison blinked.
Kant gestured dramatically to himself, still kneeling in the snow. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Bison turned fully, confused at first, and then—
His eyes widened.
Kant pulled out the small velvet box, flipping it open to reveal the simple, gleaming ring inside. “Took you long enough,” Kant muttered, voice just a little shaky.
Bison’s breath caught. His lips parted, but no words came.
Kant licked his lips, suddenly nervous despite everything. “Listen, I—I know neither of us are exactly the settling-down type, and I know we’re better at running than staying, but—” He exhaled, his throat tight. “You’re the only person I’d ever stop running for. I love you. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to keep loving you for a very, very long time.”
Silence.
The northern lights swirled above them, casting their glow across the untouched snow.
Kant swallowed hard. “Please say something before I actually lose feeling in my leg—”
Bison moved before Kant could finish.
One second he was standing there, frozen in shock, and the next he was dropping to his knees, grabbing Kant’s face between his gloved hands.
“Yes,” Bison breathed, his voice raw.
Kant blinked. “Yeah?”
Bison laughed, shaky and breathless. “Yes, you idiot.” He kissed him then, hard and urgent, his warmth seeping into Kant’s frozen skin. Kant melted into it, relief and love crashing over him like a tidal wave.
When they finally pulled apart, Bison rested his forehead against Kant’s. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over Kant’s arms.
“Yeah, well,” Kant smirked, still breathless, “worth it.”
Bison pulled him into a hug then, arms wrapping tight around him, their bodies pressed together against the cold. The wind bit at their faces, but it didn’t matter. They had each other.
Above them, the aurora continued to dance.