Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It isn’t often that Javier travels via horse nowadays, given that his lord has a small menagerie of fantastical creatures willing to ferry them around, but the mountain pass they had been travelling through was deemed too narrow for anything but a horse to navigate. The rocky path, though winding and full of switchbacks, is not so treacherous that Javier has to pay more than a minimal amount of focus on the trail, leaving the bulk of his attention on his lord.

Having taken the lead on their search for a new place to set up camp for the night, given that their initial location now houses a dead wizard, Kim Suho has his back to Javier, allowing the knight to scan his master’s new—old?—appearance without scrutiny.

While Javier had initially noticed Suho’s smaller physique, Suho is by no means scrawny; under that now-slightly oversized overcoat are still the muscles that result from continuous, intensive physical work. Javier wonders what, exactly, Suho had been doing to develop those muscles before he entered Lloyd Frontera’s body. He wonders if those dark bags under Suho’s eyes are related. He wonders a lot of things about Suho’s life in that mysterious before, and he asks none of them, content to ride in silence behind his master, appreciating the glow of the setting sun on his dark hair.

“Can you stop looking at me like that?” Suho asks without turning around.

Caught. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, my lord.”

Suho twists his neck to stare flatly at Javier. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Maybe he does, but there is no way he’s going to admit to staring adoringly at the back of his master’s head. “Enlighten me.”

“Like I’m some—some—” Javier has never seen Suho’s face turn red before. He finds that he quite enjoys the sight.

“Some what, Suho?” He asks, half tossing out a verbal life preserver, half hoping to see Suho’s blush deepen.

“I’m just me!” He throws out his hands, lurching in his saddle from the force. Javier urges his horse forward, but Suho regains his balance on his own.

“I’m just me,” Suho repeats, turning back to properly sit astride. “I thought we agreed nothing had to change.” He pulls forward, once again leading them through the trail.

Like before, Javier follows without a word. This time, however, Javier keeps his eyes on his horse, the mountains, any nearby outcroppings they could shelter under—anything but his lord.

---

The sun is only a faint glow lining the mountains by the time they find a satisfactory place to rest: a small fissure just wide and deep enough for the two to lie down in, along with a wind-beaten tree outside to which they can tie the horses. They eat their dinner in silence; the awkwardness from before lingers like the smoke from their campfire. Long after the fire is extinguished, Javier still tastes ash in his mouth.

Equally quietly, they lay out their bedrolls and begin to prepare for the night. It’s not until Suho lights their small lantern, painting the cave in chiaroscuro, that Javier speaks. “My lord.”

Suho looks up at him. Javier doubts he will ever miss Master Lloyd’s face, but it was a face profoundly familiar to him, one he had learned as a child to read for signs of sudden, explosive rage, then relearned to judge for one scheme or another. Now, Suho is new enough that Javier doesn’t know if he is disappointed or relieved to not be called by his name.

Javier fiddles with the edge of his bedroll, unsure what words to use. “You’re still you,” he tries, “but you’ve never been just anything.”

Sitting with his legs pulled to his chest, Suho smirks, a dead, forced thing. Even now, Javier can tell as much. “Maybe that’s how you see it, but that doesn’t mean you’re right.”

“How am I wrong? Regardless of your appearance, the things you’ve done for your barony, the kingdom as a whole—”

“But I didn’t do that! Not when I was like this! Back then, back there, I wasn’t a leader, or a fighter—I was barely an engineer. I was a construction worker hardly making it through the day with no family or friends. I did nothing. I was nothing.”

Suho directs his next words to the cave’s opening, away from Javier. “I know that for you, my—Lloyd’s—body was a reminder of what you went through as a kid. And I’m sorry for that. But the things I’ve done as Lloyd Frontera are the only things I’ve done that are worth anything.”

Javier stares at him in disbelief. “So?” He demands, rising to step up to Suho, who’s still determinedly looking away. Javier does the only logical thing and pulls Suho up by the collar until their faces are centimeters apart. “You’ve still done all those things, haven’t you?” He shifts his hold to one hand, leaving the other free to jab a finger into Suho’s chest. “Maybe not with this body, but with this soul. Whatever you think you were ‘worth’ in Master Lloyd’s body, you’re worth now.”

He tries to gauge if his words have gotten through to Suho—and almost drops him.

A red flush stretches from Suho’s eyes, thin hazel rings around blown out pupils, down to his neck. His mouth hangs slightly agape. He’s very, very close, all wide eyes and heat, and Javier wants, in this moment, to come even closer.

Javier sets him down on his feet abruptly. “And,” he adds quietly, “you were worth it before you came here, too.”

Suho’s throat works. Javier tries not to notice. “You didn’t know me then,” Suho counters.

“I know you now. Do you think my judgement is so poor I can’t tell the worth of my own master?” Sometimes, he thinks he should have been able to tell the moment Suho entered his life. The second Lloyd Frontera closed his eyes and Kim Suho opened them, Javier should have felt the paradigm shift in his bones.

“I’m just saying. I could have been, I don’t know. A bank robber?”

“You’re already a conman and a thief, the way you run your business—”

“Hey! My contracts are perfectly within the bounds of the law—”

“—But,” Javier cuts him off, “you’re still worth it.”

To this, Suho has no response. Javier smiles and tucks himself in for the night. “Could I get my lullaby, Master Suho?”

Suho is still, for a few moments. Then he sighs and lowers himself to his bedroll. “A well-designed series of blueprints for a residential apartment block…”

Usually, Javier drops straight into sleep when Suho begins his lullabies, grateful for the chance to rest after so many past sleepless nights. This time, however, Javier listens to the comfortable rhythm of his lord’s words, looks at the flickering flamelight illuminating his lord’s face, for as long as he can until it all drifts away.

---

Javier wakes up to the sun beaming into his eyes, the smell of burning wood, and the absence of Suho in the space next to him. He exits the small cave, running his hands through his sleep-mussed hair, and sees Suho sitting by the re-lit fire, studying some maps.

“’Morning,” Suho says absently, not looking up from the papers occupying his attention. “I made some breakfast.” He tilts his head to the travel pot hanging over the fire. Javier looks inside to see a slightly burnt porridge.

Javier sighs as he ladles himself a serving. “You really can’t keep forgetting to take the pot off the heat, my lord.”

Suho looks up in confusion. “Huh? Oh.” He returns to his maps, muttering to himself, “I really should invent a microwave…or get someone else to do it, I didn’t go to school for fucking electrical engineering…”

Deciding to ignore his master’s incomprehensible rambles, Javier leans over Suho’s shoulder to look at the chart he currently holds. “Where are we going?”

The nape of Suho’s neck reddens. “I was thinking we’d head to the Namaran estate, see if Siluria knows anything about this kind of magic.”

“Lady Namaran?” Javier considers, returning to his breakfast. “She is quite the accomplished mage.”

“Exactly,” Suho says, sounding relieved. “And if we start heading that way now, we can get back to the barony less than a week later than scheduled. Assuming she’s able to help,” he ends on a dispiriting note.

Pursing his lips, Javier gives Suho a once-over. “Are you feeling any different physically? Any feelings of weakness?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Suho dismisses him, “It’s more about the fact that I am very visibly not Lloyd Frontera, and I can see a couple of issues that might arise from that fact. I’m hoping Siluria can undo the spell, or failing that, cast a new one so I look…Lloyd-ly again.” He snickers to himself. “Heh. Lloyd-ly.”

“Was that a sad attempt to pun on the word lordly, or do I need to be concerned the spell is attacking your brain?” Privately, Javier worries. He knows Suho is right that his current appearance could have drastic consequences for them and the barony as a whole—maybe even the entire kingdom—but he can’t help wondering if there’s another reason Suho’s so insistent on returning to his previous appearance.

I was nothing, echoes through his head. Javier won’t deny that he, personally, is benefitting from Suho’s regained body, but is it ridiculous to also think that Suho would also gain something by not placing his self-worth on being Lloyd Frontera? Or maybe it’s the other way around, and by being against Suho taking back the form he feels more comfortable and confident in, Javier’s failing as a knight—

“The fact that you can tell that’s what I was going for should make it clear that I was not attempting a pun, I executed one perfectly, thank you very much. C’mon, finish your breakfast, it’s time to start packing up.”

After discreetly disposing of his charred meal, Javier joins Suho in refilling their horses’ saddlebags. “So,” he starts casually, “you plan to take back on the body and name of Lord Frontera?”

Focused on checking the straps of his saddle, Suho simply grunts an affirmative.

Javier sidles closer. Keep it casual, keep it casual…“Does that mean you have no plans to tell your parents who you really are?”

The way Suho visibly winces at the question falls short of casual. He rubs at his sternum, where Javier knows the Frontera family necklace is hanging, hidden under his shirt. “What do I say? Hey Mom, hey Dad, you know how you’ve been loving me and treating me like I’m your son? Because you thought I was your son? Turns out, your son actually died, and I possessed his body and then acted as him for years without telling you. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t mean to!”  

“…I’m sure you could come up with a more delicate way to phrase it.” Internally, Javier’s mind reels. Lloyd is not just displaced from his body, but dead? Suho hadn’t intended to come here? It was one thing to guess these were the case, another to have them confirmed. Regaining his body seems to spur Suho into an openness Javier would have thought he’d be incapable of expressing. 

Suho snorts. “I’m not sure there is a delicate way to phrase it. At least Julian kind of knows what’s happened. Saves me some trouble.”

By trouble, Javier wonders, do you mean guilt?

“Lord Arcos and Lady Marbella are no fools, my lord. I’m certain they too at least suspect that something has occurred beyond Lloyd Frontera suddenly seeing the error of his ways.” Suho looks like he’s at least considering Javier’s words, emboldening the knight to take another step closer. “Whatever they suspect may be much worse than the truth of the matter. If you tell them, you could be saving them some heartache.” It’s playing dirty, touching on the leagues-wide heroism streak Suho insists he doesn’t possess, but Javier hasn’t lasted this long as his knight without learning a few things.

“You’re not wrong…” Suho drags his hand over his face. “Fine. When we get back, I’ll tell them. Some of it, at least,” he tacks on, rubbing his chest one final time.

“I think that’s a wise decision, my lord.”

“Oh, stuff it, Javier, I can tell you’re proud of yourself.”

He arches a single silver brow. “Now why would that be, my lord?”

While Suho sputters, Javier packs away the last of their supplies and mounts his horse. “Suho,” he calls. Suho looks up at him with an unnamable expression, the same one that leaves Javier feeling remarkably similar to when he’d have the wind knocked out of him during sparring. “Is it time to leave?”

Suho holds his gaze for what feels like a long, long time. “Past time. C’mon, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Nearing the gates of the Namaran estate, Javier takes the lead over Suho to hail the surrounding guards. Before entering the surrounding town, Suho had cloaked himself, wanting as few people to see his non-Lloyd appearance with the famously Frontera-employed knight as possible, and hangs back with his face shrouded while one of the guards struts up to Javier.

“State your name and business, traveler,” the guard, a burly red-haired man, orders, before visibly double-taking at Javier. “If you please,” he adds, suddenly contrite.

“Javier Asrahan,” he says, “knight of the Frontera barony.”

The guard’s face now matches his hair. Behind Javier, Suho scoffs.

Javier continues addressing the guard. “I’m here to seek insight on some questions of magic from the Lady Siluria.”

“Oh! Certainly!” The guard hastens to open the gate. “Have your servant take your horses to the stable and I’ll show you to her ladyship posthaste. Perhaps on the way we could discuss your many adventures?”

Don’t. Laugh. Don’t. Don’t do it. Even though it’s hilarious that even in his new body he gets called a servant, don’t. With iron willpower, Javier keeps a straight face as he waves towards Suho, who even with his features in shadows is still clearly staring daggers at him. “He’s actually related to my questions, I’m afraid. Might he be permitted to join us?” The daggers grow to swords.

“But of course,” the guard says, sounding very much like he wants to say the opposite. “Allow me to lead you to our stables before we see Lady Namaran.”

Passing through the gate, horses side by side, Suho leans over to Javier. “Yet another admirer for the famed Javier Asrahan, huh? Will you be regaling him with tales of your many exploits while I face Siluria myself?”

Javier keeps his tone equally quiet. “No need to worry, my lord. There’s nobody here that will pull me away from my duty to the Fronteras.”

“And besides,” he adds as they near the stables, stopping his horse, “I prefer my men with darker hair.” He dismounts, pretending not to see the way Suho twitches like he’s been struck by lightning.

---

Lady Siluria greets Javier warmly and leads the two men to her study; arcane scrolls and books are crammed into every square foot of it, creating the impression of an explosion of parchment paper. “My apologizes for the mess,” she says, sweeping scattered documents and assorted magic paraphernalia off her desk. An inkwell crashes to the ground and cracks, spilling ink onto the wooden floorboards. Siluria doesn’t seem to notice, green eyes fixed on Javier. “So! What can I help you with?”

Suho pulls back his hood, revealing his new face. “What do you know about spells that change appearance?”

She looks at him curiously. “It’s not my main area of focus, but I’ve read several treatises that touch on the subject. Is there something the matter with how you look, Sir…?”

If the return of the swords Suho glares at him are any indication, Javier doesn’t do as well disguising his laugh as he thinks. “This is Lloyd Frontera,” he explains. “Recently, we had an altercation with a wizard…”

He and Suho explain what had happened, leaving out the exact nature of “Lloyd”’s identity. Siluria listens intently, taking notes and asking intermittent questions.

“And he said, ‘I will unmake you’? Those were his exact words?” She checked.

“Yes,” Suho confirms. “Do you know what that means? Why it affected me this way?”

“Hmm…” she taps her quill to her lips. “My lord, would you permit me to examine your soul? I’d like to ensure there’s no damage on the soul level.” She sees Javier’s face and hastily tacks on, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong! Dying curses are usually intended to take immediate effect, like your physical transformation did. If you haven’t experienced any negative side effects so far, you’re likely fine. It’s simply a precaution.”

Suho shrugs assent. “Yeah, sure. What do I need to do?”

“Simply sit down and I’ll begin scanning.”

In unison, Suho and Javier turn to look around the study, where every possible sitting area is buried under occult objects and writings. Siluria flushes.

“I’ve been rather busy with my studies and correspondence,” she apologizes, sending out a quick gust of wind to clear a nearby chair.

“It’s not a problem, Lady Namaran,” Javier reassures her. “You should see the mess my master makes at his desk.”

“I have a system, Javier, and you need to stop moving things around or so help me—”

“Aren’t you supposed to be sitting for the exam?” He cuts Suho off. Grumbling, Suho takes a seat, the chair’s back low enough that he can somewhat recline.

Siluria stands by his side, holding her hands over his chest. Dimly at first, then increasing in brightness, the blue light of mana begins to radiate from his chest. Siluria’s eyes, too, glow faintly blue, fading along with Suho’s light as the examination comes to an end.

“Everything appears normal,” she announces. “The soul is strongly tethered to the body, and I can’t see any signs of deterioration.”

Javier releases a tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying. Despite the close eye he’s kept on Suho and Suho’s own insistence that he felt fine, worry that the spell was not so benign as it seemed had been gnawing at him.

“As far as I can tell,” Siluria continues, “Something went wrong in the wizard’s casting, resulting in a spell that changed your appearance instead of harming you. It’s actually not uncommon for dying spells to go wrong, though that often makes them more lethal, not less.”

The two men exchange glances. It could be that the curse really did just misfire, but Javier can tell that Suho, too, thinks his…unique circumstances caused this result.

“Is there a way to undo it?” Suho asks, rising from the chair. “Return to—how I looked before?”

Siluria frowns. “Because this wasn’t the intended outcome of the spell, I really couldn’t guarantee I could safely undo it. There are some mages I could write to and see what they know, but there’s no guarantee they’ll have any information, or even respond…”

“Ah, forget it then,” Suho waves it off, “Could you place a new spell on me? One that makes me look like I did before?”

Her face, downturned with disappointment, brightens. “I could, yes! It’s just a matter of finding a talisman for the spell to draw its power from.”

Javier mentally prepares himself for an extensive quest involving magic, scheming, and somehow, engineering plans, almost entirely missing Siluria’s next question: “Do you have your identification necklace on you?”

“Always,” Suho nods, fishing the pendant out to present to her.

“Oh, that’s perfect! The necklace is already tied to you, so if I place an enchantment on the necklace itself, it should activate whenever you wear it and self-replenish the mana required to power the spell,” Siluria explains, gesturing wildly. Suho unclasps the necklace and hands it over as she continues outlining her plan, descending into magical jargon Javier is pretty sure neither he nor his lord understand. It’s endearing, in a familiar way.

“Is there a way to see through the enchantment?” Javier asks when she takes a breath. “For security purposes,” he tacks on, and can’t tell if the expression on Siluria’s face when she turns to him is one of knowing or of surprise that the two men are still in the room with her.

Luckily, it seems she’s more interested in the potential complications his question raises than the implications behind it. He avoids checking if Suho feels the same. “If I were to add a sort of lock system, where you or anyone else who receives a ‘key’ could bypass the necklace’s enchantment…” Siluria thinks aloud, stroking her chin, “Yes, it should be possible! We can set that up once the initial enchantment take hold.”

Sending out another gust of wind, she grabs a fresh sheet of paper and begins scribbling down more notes, stopping every so often to think, then cross out or add new writing, before continuing her work.

Noticing her distraction, Suho inches towards Javier. “You want to keep seeing me, huh?” He whispers, and even with his eyes firmly averted from his lord, Javier can still tell Suho is pulling a Face.

Half out of curiosity as to how the monstrous expressions will translate, half out of fascinated disgust—so Javier tells himself—he turns the smallest bit to see Suho out of the corner of his eye. Suho, the bastard, catches the motion and winks at him.

Caught again. He never used to be this obvious, he’s pretty sure.

“Of course I do, my lord,” he says just as quietly, face still mostly turned away, “Why wouldn’t I want to see my master, the savior of Frontera?”

He doesn’t need to look to tell Suho’s reddened now, but he does anyway. Self-care, or whatever Lady Marbella says.

It’s less than ten minutes later that Siluria looks up, visibly realizes Javier and Suho are still there, and flushes before showing them the sheet of paper, now full of words and sketches squeezed onto every spare bit of the page.

“This should do it,” she says, placing the paper down and taking the noble identification necklace up from her desk. She holds the necklace in both hands and begins murmuring under her breath. From under her closed eyes and the bits of the necklace that can be seen between her tight grip leaks the same blue light of mana as earlier. Energy gathers in the room, eddying around Siluria as she continues, seemingly oblivious to the rush of magic around her. But no—Javier can feel her own mana incorporating the energy, manipulating it and channeling it into the necklace.

With one final surge of magic, the spell is done, and Siluria blinks her eyes as if awaking from sleep. “Here,” she hands the necklace back to Suho, who slips it over his head.

Like he never left, Lloyd Frontera is back and standing before Javier.

Javier has never been one to cleanly categorize his emotions, but even if he was, the complicated tangle that inhabits his chest at the sight of his former master would still be impossible to fully parse. There’s the fear and impotent rage he’s felt at the sight of Lloyd Frontera’s face, ever since the first day Lloyd shoved him to the ground. There’s the grudging respect and fondness that emerged as Suho began to turn Frontera county around, one project at a time. Unexpectedly, there’s a hint of that sudden happiness one feels after seeing a friend whom they’ve been apart from for some time. Most of all, though, there’s a relief so strong and clear it feels like love.

After today, he can spend the rest of his life seeing Suho.

“Lady Namaran, how do I bypass the necklace’s spell?” He doesn’t miss Suho’s grin at the question, and a wave of that same relief passes through him.

Siluria walks them through the process—of course a magic genius like herself would make it as simple as possible. Javier holds the pendant of Suho’s necklace, still around Suho’s neck, and pushes the smallest bit of his mana into it. The whole time, he keeps his eyes on Suho’s, watching the unchanging hazel as the rest of his body transforms. Suho’s gaze is equally locked onto him, and when he exhales, Javier swears he can feel the shaky breath like it came from his own mouth. Maybe it’s more than relief, how he feels standing only inches apart, close enough to—

“Did it work?” Siluria asks, and Javier drops the pendant like it burns. Suho steps back with equal haste. “Do you see him like he was before?”

There is no way Javier can look her in the eyes after just considering something so unchivalric. Luckily, being a knight means he can bow at any time and people will just accept it, so he does so now, bowing low. “I do.”

---

Though Suho was eager to head back to the barony, Siluria convinces the two of them to stay the night. Javier can appreciate the luxury of a mattress after weeks of camping, and he can tell by the looseness in Suho’s frame the next morning that he, too, benefitted from their opulent accommodations.

They begin readying themselves for the journey home after breakfast. Their horses are brought into the main courtyard of the estate, and waving off the Namaran servants’ efforts to help, Javier and Suho are packing up the last of their belongings when Siluria comes down to send them off.

“Master Lloyd,” she calls out, running up to Suho, “I have two favors to ask of you.”

Javier shoots him a warning glance—he had better not try any of his conman tricks on the lady after she had been so helpful—which Suho sees, acknowledges, and decides to ignore.

He pulls one of his oiliest grins. “Of course, Lady Siluria,” he tells her, “simply tell me what they are, and I’ll get them done.”

She presses a letter into his hands. “I’ve heard that you’ve worked with Wels Corgidus before, yes? Working on your necklace made me realize I should really expand my knowledge of artificing and metalworking as it relates to talismans. Would you be willing to give this letter to him and inquire as to if he’d like to begin a correspondence?”

“Oh,” Suho says, a bit surprised, “that’s easy. Though I should warn you he’s not very friendly. But if you stroke his ego a bit, or appeal to his morals, or find another way to emotionally manipulate him…” he trails off at the look on her face. “I’ll make sure he writes back,” he sums up, in a way that tries and utterly fails to be reassuring. Javier face palms.

“And the other request?” Suho adds, smiling, as Siluria mouths the words ‘emotionally manipulate’ to herself.

“Ah, yes,” she recollects herself. “Might I steal Sir Asrahan away from you for a few moments before you leave?”

Suho’s smile appears pasted on, now, and he takes a few seconds before answering. “Of course! Take all the time you need, I’ll pack the last of our things. By myself,” he directs towards Javier.

“We are in awe of your magnanimity, my lord,” Javier drawls, trying to hide his confusion as he follows Siluria to one of the walls of the courtyard where Suho out of hearing distance.

“Lady Namaran?” he asks, letting some uncertainty enter his tone.

Siluria leans against the stone wall. “When you and Master Lloyd first came here, I was very taken aback by his appearance. At first I thought, maybe this isn’t the Lloyd Frontera I spoke with before.”

Javier’s blood turns to ice before she continues, “But, seeing how you are with him…it is him, isn’t it?”

“He’s the one,” Javier says, relaxing, and it sounds far too honest for what should be a lie.

She smiles. “I thought that was the case. We’re very lucky, you and I.”

In the distance, Suho finishes up the packing. Javier studies the curve of Suho’s back as he carefully tucks Siluria’s letter into a saddlebag. “How so?”

“We grew up knowing exactly what we want to do with our lives, and we still have so much time ahead of us to spend doing it. I only wonder…is this the way you wish to spend it?”

“Being a knight?” The answer is immediate. “Yes.”

“Of course,” she says, unsurprised, “but that’s not all you want to be, is it?”

A lesser man would blush. Siluria pulls some papers from a hidden pocket and begins shuffling through them as Javier considers what to say.

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he decides on, and even though Siluria’s attention is somewhat diverted, he can tell his answer falls flat.

She takes pity on him. “Well then, I won’t keep you any longer. You and your lord”—okay, not that much pity—“are always welcome here, do visit again. But perhaps first you should take some time for yourselves, yes?”

If this were a battle of swords, Javier would win handily. In a battle of words, he is thoroughly beaten. There’s nothing for it but to offer Siluria a final thanks and farewell before saddling up and riding away, his lord at his side.

“What were you too talking about?” Suho asks, tone carefully neutral, as they ride toward the gates.

“Time.” It’s a non-answer, Javier knows, so he tosses in a tidbit of technical truth to satisfy his lord. “She didn’t think you were Lloyd Frontera at first.”

“Well,” Suho says in an undertone, smiling at the town guards they pass, “she wasn’t wrong, was she?”

“No,” Javier agrees, “she isn’t.”

Chapter Text

A few days out from the Frontera estate, the landscape flattens and brightens, moving from stark gray mountains to gently rolling green hills. They had made good progress in the morning and stop for a quick lunch that feels almost like a picnic, sitting as they are under a clear blue sky.

Suho fiddles with his necklace as they eat. Javier watches the movement of his slim, clever hands. The weeks spent without biting his nails are already showing results. His dark circles are almost entirely gone, and regular rations, along with the sumptuous meals they had been provided during their stay in Namaran, have softened his edge-of-gauntness face. Javier likes to see it; he likes being able to point out each piece of evidence that being in this world, with him, makes Suho’s life a better one.

“If I had known you’d keep looking at me like that, I wouldn’t have keyed you to the necklace,” Suho says, head bent over the apple he’s paring.

Javier really should figure out how, exactly, Suho’s so aware of eyes on him without even being a sword expert, but that can wait for another day. Today, he just grins. “Look at you like what, my lord?”

Suho glances up at him. After weeks spent travelling together, Javier is once again able to read Kim Suho’s face like a book. It’s a boost to his ego, seeing mingled fear, hope, and desire in the eyes of a man who has faced off against magicians and monsters. Javier wonders if Suho can read his eyes for the same. “Like you like what you see.”

Is this the moment? How much further can he push? “Like’s a small word, Kim Suho.” 

The knife slips in Suho’s grip, wedging into the apple’s core. He inhales sharply. “Asshole! I almost cut myself!”

“How is that my fault?” Javier asks innocently, taking the fruit and knife. He finishes skinning the apple and offers it back to Suho, who instead of taking it buries his red face in his hands.

“This isn’t fair. You know you’re good-looking, how am I supposed to turn this around on you?”

Javier pushes down a sudden fluttering in his stomach. “You think I’m good-looking?” Is this the moment? 

Suho lowers his hands to glare at him. “Literally everywhere we go people either mistake you for a noble, declare their love for you on the spot, or both. You’ve called yourself handsome an obnoxious amount of times. Don’t act like your looks are suddenly an insecurity.”

“They’re not,” Javier admits, and is this the moment? If it isn’t, he’ll make it so. “But I’ve never been told that I’m good-looking by the person who holds my heart.”

Of all the faces Suho has made, some truly horrific, the one he makes at this declaration will be immortalized in Javier’s memory. His eyes bug out. His jaw hangs slack. His face is tomato-red. And Javier still wants to kiss him. What has this man done to him?

“You…you…”

“...You can’t be surprised,” Javier says, inching closer, “I’ve been entirely too obviou–” 

Suho crashes into him with an intensity that would take Javier by surprise, if he hadn’t already seen the sheer weight of the other man’s attention when it’s singularly focused. Right now, all that focus is on him, on his mouth, gasping as Suho smashes their lips together almost angrily.

“You drive me crazy,” Suho pulls away to growl, before latching back onto him, then pulling away again, like he can’t decide whether to kiss him or curse him out. “You keep making fun of me–then complimenting me–with your stupid smug face–” And now Javier is the one who has to cut him off with a kiss of his own; Suho’s not the only one who’s been driven crazy by a stupid smug face.

“That’s–” rich, coming from you, Javier wants to say, but Suho deepens the kiss, his hands clasping Javier’s face like he’s something precious, something worthy, and for a long time, neither of them speak at all.

---

When they finally break apart, now sprawling across the grass, they’ve completely used up any extra time they had gained in the morning’s journey. Suho laughs when Javier points this out, his breath warm against Javier’s pulse.

“It’s all right,” he says, head tucked in the crook of Javier’s neck. “We have time.”