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There was a lot one could overhear when walking five steps behind the heir to the throne.
Snippets of confidential information regularly floated back to Chuuya’s ears. He knew secrets that could bring the entire kingdom to its knees, he could quite possibly ruin the very monarch he swore undying fealty to at an incredibly young age. Of course, that never crossed his mind, Chuuya was unwavering in his loyalty to the crown and was single-mindedly determined to uphold his duty, to give his all to his home.
Being the personal bodyguard to the crown prince was a privilege, an honor bestowed upon only the best fighter the kingdom had to offer. Chuuya took to reminding himself of that whenever the prince got a little too…annoying.
The prince had a reputation for being a shrewd politician, for a wicked tongue and clever ideas befitting a future king. It was these facts that made Chuuya feel like he was constantly being tested whenever the prince managed to sneak from his chambers in the middle of the night and dodge patrols in the palace corridors to hide in one of the dozens of seldom used rooms in the castle.
Chuuya was always the one to find him (despite never being the sole person searching), and it was always a struggle not to lose his temper in reaction to the way the prince’s lips would curl into a smirk at the sight of his frustrate bodyguard.
Some nights, Chuuya was forced to keep the prince company as he strolled through the gardens or read his way through books in the library. Other nights, he could usher his charge back to proper safety, ignoring the sly comments the prince would make as they walked through the corridors.
Despite always being five steps behind, meant to fade into the background of the royal’s day-to-day life, Chuuya found himself the subject of intelligent brown eyes more often than he ever might have dreamed when first given the post, more often than he (quite honestly) cared to be, more often than was proper.
In private, the prince would often shrink that distance: calling for Chuuya to be closer to discuss plans he might have that might require additional guards or to merely try and drag out Chuuya’s temper from behind hard-earned self-control. Chuuya himself knew his place: he never closed the distance without a direct order.
He never quite knew what he was in store for when it came to that man. So, when Chuuya managed to find the prince leaning near the window in an unused sitting room nearly two hours after midnight (and three past when the prince ‘retired’ to his rooms for the evening), he steeled himself for whatever impending comment had sharp brown eyes glinting with amusement.
“Really, Chuuya,” his name always rolled carefully from the prince’s lips—syllables needlessly extended—holding a secret that Chuuya wasn’t sure he wanted to learn, “who is going to harm me inside my own home?”
(If it wouldn’t end in a hanging, Chuuya himself would have slammed the prince on his back on more than one occasion. It would certainly teach the prince to mind his tongue.)
Biting back a comment along his true line of thought, Chuuya replied, “Your Highness, it is my duty to make sure you are safe and it is by the king’s orders that you maintain a bodyguard at all times.”
The prince tilted his head. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me by my name when we’re alone?”
“As many times as I reply that it isn’t proper.”
“Propriety is so dull,” the prince sighed, “I suppose next you’ll be telling me that it’s improper to kiss my bodyguard.”
Chuuya’s breath hitched at the comment, idly thrown out into the quiet room, and it was only a decade of training and years in the prince’s service that allowed him to keep his face straight.
All the prince wanted was a reaction, that much Chuuya was sure of. While there were dozens of nobles and palace worker who would throw themselves at the prince’s feet to be toyed with until he grew bored, Chuuya refused to be one of them.
With a well-practiced scowl, Chuuya said, “Please save your jokes for another time, Highness.”
“Dazai,” he corrected, pushing himself away from the window and stepping forward, closing the space between them. “I’m not joking.”
Chuuya’s tongue was heavy with dozens of stronger (coarser) words of protest, and the words begged to flow from his lips as the prince meandered closer, eyes raking down his body as if cataloging every detail. Chuuya was stuck, floundering between his need to make his opinion of the prince’s flirtations quite clear and the knowledge that he couldn’t very well speak the way he wants to in front of the crown prince.
It wasn’t until slender fingers reached out, brushing underneath his chin and applying just enough pressure to have his face tilting upwards, that Chuuya found his voice.
“Dazai.” It was the first time Chuuya had ever addressed the prince by his name: without honorific or title. He meant it to come out stern, but the sudden realization of how close they were had the name coming out in little more than a whisper. Clearing his throat, Chuuya managed for a stricter tone as he said, “Please, do not toy with me.”
“I assure you, Chuuya, I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so serious about a kiss in my life.”
It was ridiculous how easily such lines could drop from the prince’s lips. Chuuya had borne witness to the prince charming people all the way from merchants in the public market to foreign diplomats, always knowing the right words to say to have them lowering their defenses. Unlike those poor souls, Chuuya was also privy to the strategy behind each well-crafted sentence; unlike the prince’s other prey, he had heard the prince and the king verbally dissect their targets and plan the best way for the prince to worm information out of them, eyes cold and voices detached as they spoke.
Their strategies didn’t stop at mere words.
Chuuya was the one who stood watch outside secluded parlor rooms and secreted the prince through the corridors much too close to sunrise on his way back from a guest’s chambers.
No matter how sincere the prince’s voice sounded at the moment, no matter the fire seemingly crackling deep in the prince’s gaze, Chuuya knew better than to give in to the siren’s song.
Eyes fluttering shut, drawing on the discipline worked into him over the harsh routine of a knight’s training, Chuuya turned his head away from the prince—in any other situation, with anyone less than royalty, he would have slapped the offending hand from his skin with a hissed threat—staring at the opposite wall as he willed himself to stay focused on his duty.
The prince’s safety came above all else and, even with four years of service in this particular role under his belt, Chuuya would not put it past his king for this to be a test of Chuuya’s ability. Giving into the prince’s charm would implicate Chuuya as unprofessional, it would indicate that he was incapable of performing his duty properly.
“With all due respect, Your Highness, you have several early morning appointments tomorrow. It would be in your best interest to turn in for the evening before it gets any later. “
The fingers under his chin vanished, as did the warmth that seemed to radiate from the prince’s body as the royal took a step back.
“A pillar of practicality as always, Chuuya,” he said. “It’s no wonder my father selected you as my bodyguard.”
As he spoke, the danger of…whatever had made time seem to slow and Chuuya’s heart to pound rapidly in his chest faded away. Whatever form of hypnosis that had seeped into the prince’s tone at the mention of a kiss vanished, tucked back underneath one of his ever-changing masks.
Cautiously, Chuuya let his eyes slide open and he glanced at the prince. The prince’s eyes were unreadable as he studied Chuuya in turn, but there seemed to be no ill-will at Chuuya for spurning his advances.
With a curt nod, the prince moved past Chuuya toward the door. “I suppose there’s nothing to be gained from staying out longer. I will turn in for the night.”
Chuuya had long since grown past the point of needing to count the royal’s steps to make sure he kept a respectable distance. After four years as the prince’s bodyguard, Chuuya simply fell into his place out of habit, matching the prince’s pace instinctively.
Five steps behind was Chuuya’s place: close enough to react quickly to any sign of danger yet far enough away to indicate the vast difference in rank between the prince and a knight.
Five steps’ distance was Chuuya’s comfort zone. Any closer to the prince, to Dazai, was asking for trouble.
“Our arrangement allotted me another three years!”
From his position outside the doors of the private sitting room, Chuuya’s eyes widened. He had never heard the prince raise his voice, least of all while in a private meeting with the king. Normally, Chuuya avoided actively eavesdropping during such meetings: he was inside the room more often than not and already knew more than he was truly comfortable with knowing. Being kept in the dark about the more sensitive plans the royals had in the works suited Chuuya just fine.
However, the prince sounded genuinely upset, and Chuuya titled his head toward the door just slightly, craning enough to pick out the king’s even voice.
“An arrangement made while you were barely more than a child. Your current behavior is more at home with that time and unfitting of your rank. You know as well as I that the climate has changed, we must adapt to survive it.”
“There are other ways to adapt that do not include breaking your word,” the prince snapped.
“Enough. My decision is not up for discussion. Make a suitable selection within the next thirty days or I shall pick for you. Understood?”
The response was too quiet for Chuuya to make out but it was clearly the end of the conversation. Turning to face forward once again, Chuuya didn’t flinch as the door flew open with more force than was necessary. The prince strode out of the sitting room quickly, and Chuuya fell into his place behind.
He scanned the rigid set of the prince’s back and the way the prince’s hands were clenched into fists at his side, mind racing. What on earth could the two royals have been discussing to evoke such a strong reaction from a man who never let his true emotions show?
There was something off about the prince for the rest of the day.
It only took the length of the walk from the private sitting room to the council chambers for the prince to regain his composure, the flare of—anger? frustration?—tucked behind a cloak of royalty. By the time the council session came to a close—two hours later—it was as if the conversation with the king never happened.
If Chuuya hadn’t heard it himself, had not seen evidence with his own eyes, he never would have believed it to be something that happened. And it was only his years at the prince’s back that allowed Chuuya to notice the emotion still bubbling beneath the surface of the prince’s calm veneer.
While there was generally little in the way of tells to indicate when the prince would sneak out from his chambers in the evening, it was certainly the first time Chuuya had seen so much as the slightest outburst from the royal, something in Chuuya’s gut told him that whatever conversation happened between the king and prince would lead to Chuuya hunting down the prince’s whereabouts that night.
Chuuya was prepared for the sharp knock on his door near midnight (as the royal guards always defaulted to him when they needed to find the prince rather than searching themselves). He was shocked to find the prince standing outside.
(One day he was going to figure out how the prince managed to sneak past the guards posted at his doors so easily.)
“Your Highness?”
“I’m going into town,” the prince said. “I assumed you would rather accompany me than try to find me in several hours.”
The prince had secreted away to every corner of the palace during the time of Chuuya’s service, but never off the castle grounds. And, given the choice, Chuuya would rather not have to do either of the prince’s aforementioned options.
“I’m not sure that’s a wise idea, Highness,” Chuuya replied, fully aware that it would do little to stop him.
His protest was met with a shrug. “With or without you, Chuuya. Make a choice quickly.”
Stifling a sigh, Chuuya opened the door wider, letting the prince step into his room while he pulled on clothes suitable for the crisp autumn night. As he buckled on his sword belt and pulled out a cloak, the prince studied his room. It certainly wasn’t comparable to the sprawling suite that came along with being the crown prince but it was indisputably Chuuya’s in a way that none of the prince’s belongings ever appeared.
Chuuya had experienced nearly every facet of the prince’s life but this was the first time the prince was included in any aspect of Chuuya’s life away from his work. Even if Chuuya considered each bit of personal information the prince gleaned about him in each moment to be a potential weakness use against him later, he couldn’t find it in himself to be uncomfortable with the prince’s presence in his space.
Pushing the thoughts aside, Chuuya finished lacing his boots and got to his feet: reluctantly prepared to follow the prince into this representation of poor decision-making.
“Hood up, Chuuya,” the prince said, pulling his own over his head, “I won’t have you getting me caught.”
Waiting until the prince turned away, Chuuya allowed himself the indulgence of rolling his eyes as he did what he was told and made to follow the prince out of his bedroom. The prince’s hand was on the doorknob when he turned back, fixing Chuuya with an exacting look. “Oh, and no titles once we leave your room: it will draw attention.”
“As will your name,” Chuuya pointed out.
“Of course my family name is bound to draw attention.”
The implications of the prince’s response took a moment to sink in for Chuuya. When they did, his eyes widened as he searched the royal’s face for any sign of a jest: there was none.
Use the prince’s given name? The familiarity of it went far beyond the constant request to have Chuuya drop titles in private. In fact, it was a familiarity Chuuya couldn’t remember hearing anyone else using with the royal, not even the king.
“I’m not sure-”
“You’re coming along to keep me safe, right?” Chuuya nodded, relieved to be interrupted given that he had no idea what he had been about to say—given how utterly foreign his current circumstances were. That was an easy question to answer considering how keeping the prince safe was the only job he had undertaken for four years. “So being formal with me is going to draw attention and cause trouble. Use my name.”
Chuuya really had no other options, and it was always unpleasant to be on the receiving end of the prince’s ability to manipulate any situation to suit his needs. He gave a faint nod, mentally deciding to avoid having to call for the prince at all.
“Try before we leave.”
“Your Highness…” Chuuya began, but without any legitimate reason to give protest, he quickly trailed off.
The prince quirked an eyebrow, unmoved. Chuuya could tell by the look of determination on his charge’s face that either Chuuya would do as asked or the prince would find his way into town on his own. The best way to do his job, to keep the prince safe, was to give him ground here.
“O-” the name caught in his throat before he could get it out, and Chuuya cleared his throat to try again. “Osamu.”
A smile flickered across the prince’s face. “You say it like I’m torturing you, Chuuya.”
He may as well be torturing Chuuya. The prince’s stubbornness and penchant for mischief combined had been a source of torment for Chuuya since being assigned this post. Chuuya didn’t say as much, merely raised an eyebrow of his own in a challenge: nonverbally questioning whether or not the prince actually had any intention of leaving the castle grounds at all.
As always, the prince easily read the message and let out a soft laugh. He turned back to the door and swung it open, tossing one more order over his shoulder as he stepped outside. “Walk with me.”
Chuuya spared a moment to curse under his breath, more than aware that his patience would likely be frayed within the hour, before rushing to fall into step with the prince.
As crown prince and heir to the throne, Chuuya’s charge had refined more than a handful of skills that garnered the respect and admiration of his subjects and enemies alike. They ranged from ballroom dancing to battle strategy and everything in-between, and Chuuya could probably list them off without hesitation if someone asked him to.
Espionage could, perhaps, be considered among those skills in relation to the prince’s ability to coax secrets out of just about anyone he pleased. Despite being aware that the prince was able to traverse the palace halls virtually undetected, Chuuya would have never considered the prince’s ability to go without notice to be at home with any skilled spy in a way that indicated an all too literal penchant for espionage work.
If Chuuya hadn’t known for a fact that the palace guard patrolled the castle halls and perimeter with frequency, he might have thought the castle completely unprotected given how the prince somehow managed to avoid crossing any of their paths.
Mentally making a note to suggest patrol frequency changes to the castle guard captain, Chuuya tried not to marvel at how effortlessly the prince slipped from patch of shadow to patch of shadow, mottled gray cloak breaking up his form to make him almost impossible to keep track of despite the fact that Chuuya followed on his heel rather than his normal distance.
It wasn’t until they were well on the path to the city and beyond the fear of detection by the palace that Chuuya asked, “Where did you learn how to do that?”
The prince shrugged. “Practice.”
What Chuuya just witnessed spoke to perhaps a lifetime of practice, and he wondered just how long the prince had felt the need to sneak around his own home.
That question was much too personal, so Chuuya tried another in its stead, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You…don’t know?”
The prince let out a sigh so soft that it was almost inaudible before admitting, “No, I just needed to get out of that place and clear my head.”
It was difficult to read his expression in the dark, hood shadowing most of his features, but the blend of emotions Chuuya witnessed that morning after the heated family discussion seemed to creep back into the prince’s voice.
There was a vulnerability in the honesty of the prince’s answer that Chuuya didn’t like. Before stopping to think, he blurted out, “There’s a tavern nearby I enjoy going to.”
“A tavern? You wouldn’t be worried about someone recognizing me?”
Chuuya shook his head. “Not particularly. The customers aren’t the types to frequent the palace, that’s why I go there. Any time I visit a place with palace regulars they tend to ask me questions about you and get frustrated if I don’t give them answers.”
“Lead the way then, Chuuya.”
And wasn’t that a bizarre experience, to be the one walking in front of the prince rather than the other way around. It was disorienting, and Chuuya found himself constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure the prince was still close by (not used to having his charge so firmly out of his sight in much less dangerous situations).
The tavern in question was just on the edge of the pleasure district, and Chuuya held open the door for the prince before stepping fully into the heat and noise of the bustling room. Pulling his hood back, Chuuya swept the area, searching for the table that would provide the most viable number of exit routes as opposed to taking a seat at the bar (as he normally would).
Only when they settled at the table that fit Chuuya’s standards did the prince slowly remove his hood, calculating eyes flicking to take in every piece of information they could.
“Chuuya,” the tavern’s owner stepped up to their table, grinning slyly, “I never thought I’d see the day you would bring company into my place. Everyone’s convinced you’ll stay married to your job until you become a crone.”
The irony of Chuuya actually bringing his job to Kouyou’s tavern before bringing any kind of date made Chuuya spare a mental moment of silence to the social life that his job had all but destroyed.
He shook his head, trying to nonverbally tell Kouyou not to press too far. “It’s not like that, Kouyou.”
“Oh?” Curious red eyes shifted to study the prince, distinctly ignoring Chuuya’s unspoken warning (just as he figured she would). “And what does mister ‘it’s not like that’ have to say about it?”
A smile spread across the prince’s face, one that Chuuya recognized quite well to be what the prince tended to use to set antagonized courtiers at ease. “I’m not familiar with the city and Chuuya highly recommended your tavern. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Used to fancier establishments, perhaps?” she asked, voice teasing as she snapped her fingers in a signal to one of her staff.
The prince’s smile faltered slightly before he regained his composure and inclined his head in confirmation. “One could say that I’ve lived quite the sheltered life.”
Two tankards were placed on the table and Kouyou patted the server on the shoulder. “Well, we’ll take good care of you. First round is on the house.” After tossing an obvious wink in Chuuya’s direction, Kouyou moved on to the other side of the tavern.
Brown eyes watched the woman go before shifting to focus on Chuuya. “You come here often?”
“Not as much as I used to, but I’ve known Kouyou since before she owned this tavern,” Chuuya replied.
A frown crossed the prince’s face, so distinct that it was a bit of a shock. Normally, Chuuya wouldn’t be able to tell anything was worrying the royal at all. But perhaps the change was because they were finally out of his element, in a place where, for once, he wasn’t considered royalty.
Chuuya considered the man across from him, really taking the time to study him as a person in a way he would never have dared to in the palace, where someone might catch sight and start rumors. Brown hair wasn’t perfectly groomed, even unkempt after being rubbed by the cloak’s hood, and the perfect posture seemed to have vanished after Kouyou quickly placed his high-class upbringing.
He looked more human than royal, and while his given name was still much too familiar for Chuuya’s comfort, he found himself able to think of the man across from as Dazai rather than by his title with more ease than was anywhere near proper.
Taking a sip of his ale, Chuuya decided to throw caution to the wind. “Ah, Your High-” he caught himself and quickly corrected, “Osamu, if the tavern isn’t to your liking I can find someplace else.”
Dazai shook his head, pulling the other tankard so it rested in front of him. “It’s not that. I was just thinking that perhaps I don’t know you as well as I assumed I did.”
Unsure how to respond to such a statement, Chuuya looked away, staring across the busy tavern as his fingers tightened around his tankard. He was acutely aware that this was the first night he had been alone with the prince since the incident a week prior when he’d refused the prince’s kiss. Chuuya had been doing his best to forget the entire thing ever happened, but being this far from the palace, with the royal pretending to be his equal, brought memories of that night crashing back so strongly that Chuuya didn’t know how he’d be able to make eye contact for the rest of the night.
“Were you listening?”
“I’m sorry?” Chuuya asked, blinking back to look at Dazai.
“This morning during my meeting with my father,” he repeated, “were you listening?”
Lying to Dazai was a fool’s errand, one that Chuuya had seen others try with no chance of success. Steeling himself for a reprimand, Chuuya said, “Not at first, but when you raised your voice…I’ve never heard you do that before and was curious. I didn’t catch what your argument was about, though.”
With a nod, Dazai took a deep drink from his tankard, turning his attention back out to the room, leaving the conversation at that.
He was still tense.
Even two drinks later (Chuuya had stopped at one for the sake of not wanting to be tipsy while trying to protect the crown prince of all people), Dazai was still tense. His hands clenched and unclenched where they rested on the table, his eyes flicked restlessly over the crowd, he barely said a word at all.
In fact, Dazai seemed to get tenser as the night went on and the tavern got more crowded. Belatedly, it occurred to Chuuya that perhaps it wasn’t just the palace the prince had felt the need to get away from but also other people.
Whistling for their server, Chuuya paid for their drinks with a word of gratitude. The coins were barely out of his hand before Dazai got to his feet, swinging his cloak back around his shoulders as he waited for Chuuya to do the same. They were out the door without delay.
They found their way to a small square between the tavern and the palace. Dazai came to a stop beside the fountain in the middle of the square, staring up at the castle that loomed over the entire city. “My father would see me married by this time next year.”
Chuuya blinked, startled by the sudden drop of information. “Pardon?”
“Our argument,” the prince clarified, still looking up at the castle: face carefully blank. “I have thirty days to select a suitor that will benefit the kingdom or he will select one for me.”
“Oh.”
The news itself was just as surprising as the fact that the prince was sharing it at all. Dazai taunted and teased, he gave orders and occasionally made ridiculous requests. He didn’t confide, certainly not in Chuuya. And Chuuya was a warrior. He was trained to fight and defend and protect, and he had done all of those things for the man standing before him. Not once in four years had he heard the prince share his emotions; Chuuya certainly didn’t feel qualified to listen to them.
“It’s my duty, of course,” the word twisted as it left Dazai’s mouth, giving it an entirely different connotation than what Chuuya was used to. “I was quite aware I would need to marry at some point, but when I was sixteen I convinced my father to make a deal in which marriage would not be a discussion until I turned twenty-five.”
That, at least, was something Chuuya could relate to. “You’re angry he broke his word?”
A huff of laughter left the prince. “My father breaking his word is not surprising. I’m angry because I thought I would have more time, and I wasn’t prepared. Even another six months would have been ideal.” Dazai paused, then continued in a quieter voice, words carefully chosen with a lack of confidence entirely new to Chuuya. “Some time ago my attention was caught by one who my father might not consider a suitable choice. More time would have allowed me to come up with a strategy to convince my father otherwise, and to ascertain if my attention is one-sided.”
Immediately, Chuuya began cycling through the people he had seen Dazai speak to, trying to deduce who exactly the prince could be referring to. He had a superb memory for people (an asset for his position) and was able to judge someone’s character upon first meeting without many mistakes. The intellectual challenge was a welcome distraction from the confirmation that the prince had indeed been toying with him the week prior, that the charming words that had almost broken down Chuuya’s guard had been nothing but a game to the man who spoke them.
“Chuuya,” tugging himself from his thoughts, Chuuya refocused on his charge, surprised to meet the prince’s gaze as Dazai had turned his back on the palace to give Chuuya bemused smile, “concentration is a look you wear well. I could never have suffered an idiotic bodyguard. Though, I admit, I did find you a bit too clever when we first met.”
Dazai took a step forward, drawing Chuuya’s attention down to notice how he had subconsciously fallen back to castle standards and stopped five paces away from the prince. “No one has ever managed to be as unpredictable to me as you are: you’re constantly forcing me to redo my calculations and change my plans.”
If Chuuya didn’t know better, he’d say the prince sounded almost…fond.
Another step. Deliberate, as if Dazai was afraid of spooking Chuuya.
“I suppose you could call it ironic that the one time I utilize my charms for personal reasons is the one time my advances are spurned.” Dazai’s smile turned wry, “but with you, I had expected it to be a toss-up.”
At the mention of that night, Chuuya’s pulse quickened. “Your High-”
“Careful,” the prince cut him off, “no one here may recognize my face but if you start falling back on propriety again we may have trouble on our hands.”
Mouth clamping shut at the very legitimate warning, Chuuya stared as the distance between them was decreased by another step. Two paces were how far the prince walked behind the king.
“It wasn’t the first time I had wanted to try, but I waited so long because I thought I had more time to test the waters.”
Chuuya couldn’t tell if the prince was babbling nonsense now or if his mind had just stopped processing anything besides the ever-shrinking distance.
There was only one step between them now: the distance between a monarch and their consort.
“You’re the person who caught my attention, Chuuya.”
His eyes flew up from the ground to stare at the prince, and he shoved down a gasp at the realization of how close they really were—just as close as the last night. For some reason, Dazai had forgone pulling his hood back up after the tavern and Chuuya had followed suit: an oversight he greatly regretted given how human the prince looked before him now.
It was much harder to remind himself of the prince’s deviant history when Dazai didn’t appear anything like the royal Chuuya was used to.
“It’s difficult to read you sometimes,” the admission was a whisper between them, “it’s unsettling to think you may actually hate me while I’ve been trying to plot how to make you a viable suitor in my father’s eyes.”
Chuuya’s head was spinning. He wanted to ask a million questions but found himself unable to say a word.
He wasn’t surprised this time when Dazai lightly gripped his chin and tilted his face upward.
The situation felt like it was entirely out of Chuuya’s control, like nothing he could do would stop it but rather delay the inevitable, whether it came tomorrow or a week from now. Still, he found his voice to try and prevent them both from doing something unbelievably idiotic.
“Osamu.”
Dazai shook his head slightly, as if in disbelief. “Two years wasted trying to get you to say just my surname. I had tried to imagine what it would sound like, but my guesses paled in comparison to reality.”
“We shouldn’t,” Chuuya tried again.
“Then don’t.”
The prince made it sound like the easiest thing in the world, and while Chuuya’s strength would have made it simple for him to pull away and drag the wayward royal back to the palace, he was frozen in place, lost trying to understand the emotions swirling in normally inexpressive brown eyes.
Dazai’s lips were incredibly soft, brushing lightly over his own as if testing the waters. When Chuuya didn’t jerk back, Dazai pressed into a fuller kiss, moving just as deliberately as he had walked forward earlier, his hand sliding up to caress Chuuya’s face as if Chuuya was someone that needed or warranted such a gentle touch. It was dizzying, and Chuuya cautiously reached out to grip onto the fabric at Dazai’s waist, searching for the contact to ground him. At that, Dazai made a pleased hum, lips turning up in a smile against Chuuya’s.
When Dazai pulled back, it was just far enough to make eye contact comfortably. “You didn’t stop me.”
“I didn’t.”
“I suppose this means I can assume you don’t hate me?” A teasing lilt slipped into the prince’s question.
Letting out a huff, Chuuya covered the hand at his cheek and gently pulled it away from his face, trying to ignore the flush underneath. “Sometimes I do hate you, particularly when you’re making my job difficult.”
Dazai laughed, and it was unlike any laugh Chuuya had heard from the prince before. With a start, he realized it must be genuine: not forced or used to hide another emotion like Dazai’s laughter normally was.
“It was the only time you’d slip up with your etiquette, I can’t help it.” Chuuya rolled his eyes but it was difficult to be really irritated with the feeling of Dazai’s kiss still fresh, and he couldn’t hound on propriety while practically standing in his prince’s arms. Dazai clearly was aware of both facts because there was an impish glint in his eyes as he said, “You’re always so proper, Chuuya.”
“You are the prince,” Chuuya pointed out, voice dry.
“Hmm, true.” Dazai pulled back further so he could look up at the castle. “I still wish I had more time.”
“More time?”
“To come up with a viable plan to convince my father,” Dazai mused, “otherwise I’ll be married to some boring brand-new to court in a year.”
“You want to convince your father to let us…marry?” Chuuya repeated, feeling exhausted at the prospect of what new antics he might have accidentally unlocked.
Glancing back down at him, Dazai arched an eyebrow. “That is what I just said. Are you alright? Don’t tell me you can’t handle your ale. Or was my kiss just that intoxicating?”
Chuuya let out a snort of derision at the suggestive question and merely shook his head rather than launching into a litany of all the reasons why Dazai’s plan was foolish beyond hope. There was a renewed energy to Dazai that Chuuya hadn’t seen in several months, so he’d let his prince have his moment of naivete before bringing back to reality.
Besides, he’d rather like to savor this proximity before returning to his place five steps behind.