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On the longest night of the year, Katsuki takes his dragon and flies to the neighboring kingdom.
The yearly meeting always takes place in one of their kingdoms; last year it had been Katsuki's, which means this year he has to make the flight in order to meet Prince Shouto in his stuffy castle. He doesn't like it—he feels constantly on edge here. But he has to play nice.
The guards eye him mistrustfully when he lands. They don't trust him or his hulking beast, but that's okay. Katsuki doesn't trust them either.
He hates leaving his dragon in the courtyard, but he has no other choice. He knows it will be fine; not only can his dragon fend for himself, but if anything ever happened to him, it would essentially be declaring war, and he's fairly certain the Todoroki Kingdom doesn't want that. That, after all, is what this night is all about; meeting to discuss the future of their kingdoms.
Katsuki is brought into the palace with a following of guards, where Shouto is waiting, clad in his best princely garb. Katsuki always has the urge to roll his eyes when he sees him in all his splendor. Secretly, he thinks he looks more like a court jester than a prince.
As always, King Enji is nowhere to be found. When Katsuki’s parents were in charge of his kingdom they met with King Enji to discuss the futures of their lands, but when Katsuki had taken over he’d passed the job off to his son. Katsuki might have been offended that the King didn’t deign to meet with him, but the truth is Katsuki hates King Enji and vastly prefers to meet with his son.
For a myriad of reasons.
Shouto’s face gives nothing away when he sees Katsuki. He remains as cool and stand-offish as ever, dismissing the guards with a curt nod before he beckons Katsuki to follow him. Katsuki waves obnoxiously at the guards as they disappear; this meeting is a private affair. It had taken a while to convince the powers that be (the king and the captain of the guards) to allow them to meet alone, but Shouto had metaphorically stomped his foot and demanded their privacy. The concern had been, presumably, that Katsuki could assassinate him, but after years of uneventful meetings, the guards leave with no fuss.
Katsuki follows Shouto down a hallway lit by torches and to a small room that is lavishly decorated. It’s an obscene display of wealth that has Katsuki wrinkling his nose; the Todoroki Kingdom was much richer than his, and he didn’t quite agree with the way they spent their money.
Katsuki makes himself at home in the room, draping himself over a lounge chair, arm slung over the back and his legs spread wide, taking up space. Silence settles over them both; Shouto stands by the door and studies Katsuki with an unreadable expression.
Shouto is the one to break first. “Katsuki,” he says. It’s been a year since Katsuki has heard his voice, soft and pitched low and undeniably sexy.
Katsuki grins at him. “You gonna just stand there, Halfie, or are you gonna take a seat?”
It seems to take Shouto a minute to understand just what Katsuki is implying. Finally he moves, crossing the small room in a few strides of his long legs before he settles himself down across Katsuki’s lap, legs straddling his waist before he leans in for a kiss.
This—this is what made the trek worth it.
Truthfully there are things that need to be discussed. Trade routes, peace treaty extensions, a myriad of things that were needed when you were neighbouring kingdoms. Things they will get to at the end of the night, if they’re lucky. They have more important things to attend to first.
That first kiss feels like the fireworks Kaminari sets off at the Solstice, like something bright and alive bursting against his skin, the softness of Shouto’s lips and his soft, Prince-y hands pressed against Katsuki’s face, hands that have never known a day of hard work in his life. Katsuki should hate those hands, hate what they stand for, hate this pampered prince and the wealthy kingdom he hails from, but all he can think of is that it feels like coming home. His arms wrap firmly around Shouto’s waist; he holds Shouto against his body, Shouto’s heat sinking into his limbs and warming him up.
Shouto tilts his head so they can get closer, hands moving from Katsuki’s face to wrap his arms around Katsuki’s neck. Katsuki wants to be impossibly closer, wants to be absorbed into Shouto, wants there to be no space separating them at all. The kiss is hungry and desperate and wet, tongues licking at teeth and hands slipping up shirts, Katsuki’s warm palms pressed to the cool bare skin of Shouto’s ribcage.
Shouto sighs happily into Katsuki’s mouth and says his name: “Katsuki.” Shouto says his name like a prayer, like it's something holy, lips caressing the word, and he always sounds happy when he says it. Katsuki could listen to him say his name all day, if Shouto’s lips weren't better occupied doing something else.
Shouto separates, gets off his lap and moves over to a chaise lounge set out in the middle of the room that he drapes himself over. He beckons Katsuki over with a small smile, and Katsuki follows as if he's on a leash. Everything about Shouto is alluring; the mismatched colours of his hair, the slight curl of his lips, the elegant buffoonery he's dressed in. Even the jagged edges of his scar, stretched across one eye, call to Katsuki. Everything about Shouto, it seems, was made to appeal to him. Shouto is Katsuki's weakness.
He crosses the room with wide strides and lowers himself onto the chaise beside him. Shouto stretches out and tangles their legs together, that smile still firmly in place. Katsuki is unable to stop himself from kissing it, tongue tracing the upturn of his lips before Shouto opens his mouth beneath Katsuki's ministrations.
They lose themselves again. Shouto tastes like peppermint, like the season. Katsuki wonders dimly what he tastes like. What has Shouto so desperately chasing with his lips and with his tongue.
Katsuki lets his hand slip under Shouto's shirt and rest on the small of his back, tracing the soft skin there with his thumb. Katsuki's skin is not soft; it's rough and scarred from countless battles, but he's not ashamed of any single mark that decorates his body. Neither is Shouto—he traces them with reverent fingers, kisses them with soft lips.
They kiss until their lips are numb, until they've traced every curve of each other's bodies, reacquainting themselves after a year. Finally Katsuki moves back, but he doesn't go far. They're both of them entwined together on the chaise, legs tangled and arms around each other. Katsuki runs a hand through Shouto's silky hair and gives him a smile only Shouto gets to see, something unbearably soft on his rough-hewn face.
“Hi,” Shouto says. Katsuki laughs.
“Hi.”
Shouto smiles again. Katsuki traces it with his fingers. It used to be a rare thing, Shouto's smile. When they first started these meetings it was nowhere to be seen. Katsuki had judged him harshly then, thought him a clone of his bastard father. How little he had known.
Now Shouto's smiles are less rare. They're bright things, beautiful. Katsuki dreams about them sometimes.
“How are things at home?” Shouto asks, lips moving beneath Katsuki's fingers. He moves them away.
“Fine,” Katsuki says. “Some bastards tried to invade us, but we took care of them real quick.”
Shouto frowns. “Why didn't you come to us for help? The alliance stipulates—”
“I know what the alliance says. It would take a lot more than some measly invasion to make me go running to your father. Besides, we're a barbarian country. People try to invade us all the time.”
“Hmm.” Shouto looks less than pleased about this. “Everything went smoothly?”
“More than smoothly. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into. No new scars or anything. Kirishima probably could've handled it by himself,” he says, referring to his second in command, a dragon shapeshifter who was more than capable of tackling armies by himself.
At that Shouto brightens. “How is Kirishima? And Izuku?”
“Fine,” Katsuki answers. “Deku has really found his footing. He's gotten quite skilled with a sword. He's reliable.” He would never tell Deku this to his face, of course, but Katsuki is unafraid to heap praise on his childhood friend out of earshot.
“What about you, Shouto? How is everyone?”
Shouto’s family situation is complicated. The nasty scar on his face is courtesy of his mother, who had thrown a pot of boiling water on him when he was just a little boy. She had been locked away for years, recently released by King Enji at the behest of his children. The king had, according to Shouto, been better lately, had had some moral midlife crisis that had him reevaluating all the harm he had caused. Shouto had told him once that Enji was a good king but a bad father—from where Katsuki is standing, he thinks he’s pretty shit at both, but he keeps that to himself.
Shouto lights up when he talks about his mother and siblings. He hadn’t had much contact with his brother and sister growing up, kept isolated by his father as he was groomed to rule the kingdom after the death of his oldest brother. It might have caused tension, except Shouto’s siblings weren’t interested in ruling the kingdom. Now they got along quite well, and Shouto had been getting closer to his mother again, too. He didn’t blame her for his scar; even as a child he had placed that blame on Enji, knowing that it had been his actions that spurred her on. Now that she was released and staying in the castle again, the two were getting closer and working to rebuild their relationship.
“Natsuo wants to leave,” Shouto informs him. “He’s fallen in love with a member of the common folk and wants to run away with her.”
“Why doesn’t he?”
“I think he’s worried about us. Fuyumi especially. He’s got it in his head he needs to protect us. I keep telling him we’ll be fine.”
“What does your father say?”
“He doesn’t want him to go. He said they could move the girl into the castle. He doesn’t even care that she’s not of noble status, but Natsuo doesn’t want her anywhere near Father.”
Katsuki thinks Natsuo is maybe the smartest of them all.
“And your mother?”
Shouto smiles, the same soft smile he always gets when he talks about his mother. It’s completely foreign to Katsuki—Bakugou Mitsuki and the word soft have never shared a sentence. But secretly he’s glad for Shouto’s softness. He deserves it.
“She’s been good. She’s gotten back into gardening lately. She’s been growing the most beautiful flowers.”
Sometimes it’s strange to Katsuki how different their lives are. Mitsuki had been the one to put a sword in Katsuki’s hand when he was just a child, had taught him how to be hard in order to survive a world that was harder. He doubts his mother could even name a single flower.
How strange that they could be so different and yet find each other anyway.
“That’s really nice, Shouto,” he says, because it is. Shouto just smiles and leans in to kiss him again.
Their kisses this time are soft and slow, no longer tinged with the desperation that comes from spending a year apart. Shouto’s fingers come up to press into Katsuki’s face, tracing his cheek bones and the harsh scar he’d gotten from battle years ago. Shouto loves to trace the harsh, jagged lines of it, loves to trail his lips over it. It becomes something precious under his care.
They kiss for a few minutes before Shouto pulls away. “We should do work,” he says. Katsuki makes a face.
“Work,” he says derisively. Shouto smiles at his disgust.
“My father might ask questions if I return tomorrow having gotten nothing done.”
He knows Shouto is right. Katsuki’s own advisors, Yaoyorozu and Iida, will be waiting for a report as well. He gives an exaggerated sigh and leans in to kiss Shouto one more time for good measure.
“Alright. But let’s make it fast.”
They do. Their kingdoms have been allies for years, since the time of Katsuki’s grandparents. They discuss what needs to be discussed and sign what needs to be signed, and when they’re done Katsuki pulls Shouto in for another kiss.
They stumble back towards the chaise, falling into it in a flurry of limbs. Desperation has crept back into their kisses, spurred on by the ever lightening skyline. Even the longest night of the year has to end.
This is all they’re allowed to have. Katsuki tries not to lament the unfairness of it, because if he starts it will consume him. To love so deeply, so profoundly. To have that not be enough. But Shouto is the heir to his kingdom, and Katsuki has his own to run. They both belong to the people, and not to each other. This is all they’re allowed to have—one long night in an even longer year.
The night is never long enough.
They kiss, and they talk, and sometimes they do nothing at all, simply basking in the presence of the other. Shouto lays with his head on Katsuki’s shoulder and Katsuki runs his fingers through his hair as he keeps a watchful eye on the window.
It’s hard not to hate the sun.
All too soon the night runs out. There’s a bright light on the horizon that signals morning has come, and Katsuki and Shouto reluctantly untangle themselves from each other. They straighten their clothes and their hair, messy from wandering fingers; Katsuki fixes up Shouto’s doublet. Shouto shoots him a smile tinged with sadness, and Katsuki can’t stop himself from leaning forward, aiming to kiss it away. He hates to see Shouto sad. Hates even more to be the cause of it.
“Next year,” Shouto says quietly. Katsuki nods.
“Next year.”
They don’t say I love you . They don’t speak it aloud. Katsuki thinks those words would make a painful moment even worse. Love is not a luxury either of them have. But their actions spell it out, in the gentle kisses and meaningful glances given to each other. Each of them knows it to be true, whether spoken aloud or not.
One last kiss; one last goodbye. Then Shouto opens the door and lets the world back in.
Shouto escorts Katsuki back to the courtyard, through the hall of ruler’s portraits. One day Shouto will be up there. Katsuki knows he will be a great king.
Shouto’s professional mask is back in place, and Katsuki does the same, glaring at the men who had been guarding his dragon all night. They better have been nice to him.
Dynamight is happy to see him, standing up eagerly when he catches sight of Katsuki. He doesn’t like being here, either. Too stuffy.
They give each other curt nods as Katsuki mounts his dragon. Shouto’s face is blank, but his eyes are sad. Katsuki wants to kiss the sadness away and hates that he can’t.
364 days left.
Katsuki takes to the sky.