Work Text:
Life had been better for Style. He used to spend his days fixing cars and flirting with hot people in bars. But ever since he came home and found out his uncle had died, everything changed.
First of all, his dad had to drop the bombshell that Style was fucking related to nobility. Apparently, his uncle on his mother’s side was akin to being a prince or a count or some shit. His whole family died in the same stupid accident, so now Style was the next eldest male in the line.
Second, this meant Style had to leave his home and move to a stupid pompous mansion, where everyone had a stick up their ass, and not in a good way. They let Style have his friend, Kant visit, but mostly he was surrounded by people he barely knew from old birthday parties before his mother died.
Third – and this was the worst of them – he had to have a bodyguard nearby at all times. Often more than one. Style was pretty sure they even stood outside of his bedroom at night, so he didn’t feel comfortable wanking off when he was alone. No wonder everyone was so stuck-up here – they probably all had so much unresolved sexual tension that they were ready to burst! And they certainly all thought the way Style dressed was completely unacceptable, so now the only people who got to see him in his crop top glory were his stone-faced guards.
At least some of the guards were hot. That was a bonus. Well, at least one was hotter than the others. His name was Fadel and he had the best poker face Style had ever seen. The only time Style saw him smile was around some of the other guards. Apparently, they were all trained and housed together, growing up pretty much like family. So it made sense that Fadel had a soft spot for some of them.
Style wished Fadel had a soft spot for him too.
During one of his visits, Kant suggested Style try to flirt with his guards. He said it mostly as a joke, but he should have known better.
“Oi, Fadel,” Style said after being in the mansion for a month. “This mansion is so boring. What do you do for fun?”
“I practice killing people,” Fadel answered flatly.
“Oh.” Style pursed his lips. “Yeah, I don’t think I can manage that one. Pretty sure it takes a lot of steady focus, and that’s not really my thing. Unless we’re talking about how focused I’ve been on your biceps, because damn.”
A muscle twitched in Fadel’s jaw, but it was hard to tell if it was from amusement or annoyance. Style chose to believe the former.
“Seriously, man. Let’s sneak out and go do something fun. A club or the bowling alley or something!” He leaned in close to Fadel and put on his most charming smile. “Na? Na na na?”
Eventually Fadel audibly sucked his teeth and dropped his serious stance. “If I take you out of the mansion, will you shut up and do your lessons without complaining?”
“Ah ha!” Style beamed with excitement. He put his hand over his heart with dramatic flourish. “I promise to behave for at least two weeks. That’s the best I can do. So can we go?!”
Fadel rolled his eyes, but he conceded.
It became a habit. A wonderful, secret habit. Once every other week (sometimes once a week!) Fadel would help sneak Style out of the mansion and into the city. They went bowling – which took some work because Fadel didn’t want to play, but Style pointed out that it was no fun playing against himself – and to a concert – which was not as fun as Style remembered because Fadel made him stand on the side and wear a mask and hat – and to a movie – where Style tried to lean on Fadel and pretend to sleep but the bodyguard totally called him on it – and even a bar – where Fadel only let him get a little drunk and was a cock blocker the whole time.
Through it all, Style could tell Fadel was becoming kind of fond of him. Why else would he keep bringing Style outside? Why would he keep Style from flirting with other people but never stop Style from flirting with him?
But there was also a strange habit within their new habit. On each outing, Fadel would be at attention and ready to defend at a moment's notice. But there would also be a few minutes where he would disappear without warning and come back a little unkempt but seeming pleased. After the fourth outing, Style couldn’t keep quiet about it anymore.
“Dude, where do you keep going? Are you, like, picking up cuties and having a quickie in the bathroom or something?” he asked on their way back to the mansion.
“What? Of course not,” Fadel said, his face confirming his disgust at the idea.
“Then what is it? Because you leave for a while, and when you come back you’re always adjusting your clothes or fixing your hair. And you always look a little smug too.” Style pouted in the backseat of the car as Fadel drove.
“Style, I’m not having hook ups on our outings,” Fadel assured.
But Style was unconvinced. “You better not. I mean, I’m right in front of you, hot and single and willing. It’d be fucking rude to go have dirty bathroom sex when you could be having dirty movie theater sex or hot mansion sex with me instead.”
“Style!” Fadel scolded through clenched teeth, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Knock it off, will you? Just stop.”
Style fisted his hands on his lap and looked out the car window. “Fine.”
He could admit that his feelings were hurt, just not to Fadel. In an instant, he had his phone out and was texting Kant. After weeks and weeks of flirting and being suggestive and planning out fucking dates to drag Fadel on, the bodyguard had shut him down. Hard. Kant, of course, was on his side and tried to make him feel better, but Style didn’t want to be soothed. He didn’t know what he wanted – an apology, to get the guy, something else entirely – but he felt coddled like a child by Kant’s placations.
For a week, he didn’t speak to Fadel. He didn’t talk to any of his guards, actually. Just called on servants or one of his family members, who were slowly starting to warm to him. Ever since his outings with Fadel, Style had been taking his lessons seriously, and this had the benefit of his family treating him nicer. Whenever one of them complimented him, Style would glance at Fadel, prepared to give him a look that said “well look at this. They think I’m fancy”, but then he’d remember he was mad at Fadel and would stop.
Normally, Fadel snuck Style out of the mansion on a weekday night – less suspicious or expected that way. So when the weekend rolled around without an outing, Style’s sour mood only worsened. He didn’t know if he was angry at Fadel for his refusal or at himself for being so inappropriate and expecting too much. Sure, Fadel wasn’t required to like him back, but he could have turned Style down sooner or with more tact. At the same time, Style had the power in their relationship, didn’t he? He shouldn’t have crossed the line without being sure, or maybe he shouldn’t have done it at all.
Damn. Style was so fucking frustrated about the whole mess.
Saturday night, there was a knock on Style’s way too fancy door. When he called out, the door opened and revealed Fadel. Curious, since Style was pretty sure Fadel had the night off.
“I need to talk to you,” Fadel said.
“Oh, now Mr. Stoic wants to talk, huh?” Style asked, sitting on the edge of his bed and crossing his arms and his legs for extra sass.
Fadel sighed. “Please, Style. I’m serious. There’s been a miscommunication between us.”
Nodding, Style said, “You’re right. I read the situation wrong and made a fool of myself. But –,” and he was annoyed by the feeling of tears behind his eyes. “Damn it. I miss my old life so fucking much, you know? Like my dad and hanging out with Kant and working on cars. All I ever wanted was to take over the garage one day, and then this shit happened. Now I’m expected to stand different and eat different and even fucking talk different.”
He stood as he talked, acting out the ridiculous gestures he was being taught – like how to bow or motion to something or even just to wave. All the etiquette lessons were drumming him into the ground. He was just a mechanic, damn it!
He straightened up but relaxed his shoulders as he focused back on Fadel. His expression was wrecked, he was sure, but he couldn’t shut himself up. “And the best part of the whole damn thing was you. With you I just acted like myself, not like some snobby prince. Count? Whatever. And yeah, I’m overly flirtatious and loud. I don’t know when to shut up. I’m annoying as hell. But you let me be me, and that was really cool of you. Our weekly dates were what kept me sane. So –!” He hesitated, then he bowed his head to hide his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I overstepped and made you uncomfortable.”
Even staring at the floor, Style could see Fadel’s shadow. He watched the bodyguard’s shoes move into view until they were right in front of his own. If he looked up, he’d be inches from Fadel’s face, and he knew he’d start saying something dumb if he saw Fadel that close. So he kept his head down.
Suddenly, Fadel grabbed him by the face and forced him to look up. They locked eyes for only a second before Fadel crashed his lips into Style’s. The action was a surprise, but Style wasn’t about to overthink it and miss out. He grabbed onto Fadel’s shirt and held the bodyguard close, and he made sure to kiss the shit out of him too. If this was going to be the only time he got to kiss Fadel, he was damn sure gonna make it the best fucking kiss Fadel had ever had. That way he knew what he was missing out on.
When Fadel forced them apart, he looked properly drunk from the kiss. Served him right.
“You didn’t read the situation wrong,” Fadel grunted, then swallowed thickly as he took two steps back. Style watched his Adam’s apple bob and wanted to suck on it. “I do like you, Style. But I’m your bodyguard. It would never be allowed. If someone found out –”
“The fuck are they gonna do? Find another backup heir?” Style asked, starting to grin like a crazy person. Fadel liked him?! Who cared what those old assholes thought? As far as Style had been told, he was the last direct option. After him, it would be a distant offshoot relative. They could take their opinion about Style being queer or who he liked and shove it up their asses with the sticks.
Fadel looked a little shocked by the suggestion, but then he shook his head. “That’s beside the point. I came here to explain myself. I’m not leaving you on our outings to go hook up with strangers.”
“You sure? Because you always come back looking like –“
“I’m taking out threats,” Fadel interrupted. He let out a huff of air. “Okay? I see people come in the venue who are there to hurt you, so I walk away to take them out somewhere less conspicuous.”
Now Style was the shocked one. He stared at Fadel with wide eyes, breath short. Then he swallowed his heart back down his throat. “So… So you mean you’re leaving me to go… kill people?”
“Sometimes, yeah.” Fadel rolled his shoulders like he was trying to pretend that was a totally normal thing to say. “Sometimes they run off with just a broken arm, though.”
Style held up a hand to stall the conversation. “No, no, no. Hold up! You leave me in the middle of a date –“
“Date?!” Fadel exclaimed, but Style didn’t even pause.
“– to stop people from killing me?!” Style finished and threw his hand out to the side.
For a second, Fadel’s eyes shifted back and forth, considering, like he wasn’t sure if the question was a trick. Then, hesitantly, he said, “Yes?”
Style put his hands on his chest and gasped loudly. “Oh my god! That’s got to be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. That’s so hot, man.”
“Really?” Fadel stepped back in close, their chests nearly bumping. His eyes were intense, and he looked so damn good.
“Oh, I never lie about what I find sexy,” Style assured. He grabbed the back of Fadel’s neck and one of his biceps to hold him in place. “Shit. This won’t do. Now I want you even more than before.” He leaned in and brushed his nose against Fadel’s cheek. “Can I? Can we? Or are you gonna scold me again?”
Although that would be kind of hot too, now that he knew Fadel liked him too.
Fadel kissed him again, so forcefully that Style stumbled back against the bedframe. “This is so bad for business,” Fadel said breathily between them.
“Oh, I’ve always been bad for business,” Style said with a smirk. “Come on. I’m ready to burn the whole fucking building down if I can’t be with you. What do you say?”
Turns out Fadel didn’t say much of all. But shit if his mouth wasn’t good at other things instead. That was their first night, but it was far from the last. In fact, Style could hardly keep his hands to himself, and Fadel turned out to not be much better.
Style kept on with his duties, and the only reason he wasn’t a complete disappointment and fuck up was because he had Fadel on his side. His bodyguard and boyfriend kept him sane and made sure he found opportunities to be his full and true self, hang out with his real friends, and do activities he enjoyed. Sure, losing his old life fucking sucked, but Style was sure that he could manage to make a pretty damn good life in his new position too – or any position he found himself in – so long as he had Fadel for the rest of his life.