Final.
He Celebrates When You Come HomeKyungsoo’s frown was heavy as he thanked his Deputy-in-Charge for the report. Yixing’s news was grim: four more dead in Kyungsoo’s town alone, and even those were just the casualties of a single weekend. In short, Yixing had shared, the virus was spreading.
Even as Commissioner of his small town and its surrounding rural areas, there was very little Kyungsoo could do against an invisible enemy that could kill those who were already dead. He’d tried vaccines for common ailments. There weren’t that many available because mundane illnesses like the flu or the common cold didn’t afflict vampires—practically impervious to the elements and all that—but Kyungsoo tried cures for the ones he could. When those had failed Kyungsoo had then tried lab testing of a few of his own citizens. They’d been random survivors of the rampaging virus and had given consent but it still tugged at Kyungsoo’s moral compass when he thought about the potential suffering those tests might cause people who’d already suffered a lot under the strain of the vamp virus. But over time, the more vampires in his jurisdiction that died, the less remorse Kyungsoo felt; by this point he was desperate enough to consider infecting humans, just to see if that produced the same morbid results.
He regretted the thought as soon as it crossed his mind, but Yixing must have caught the tail end of its presence in Kyungsoo’s expression because he leaned forward, palms flat against the mahogany surface of Kyungsoo’s desk, and asked, point blank, “How many more must die before you go to him?”
Yixing was Kyungsoo’s subordinate, but he was also Kyungsoo’s cousin and trusted confidante, so Kyungsoo chose to ignore the blatant lack of propriety between an employee and his boss. He leaned back in his chair as he fiddled with the ring of the Commissioner’s Seal where it sat on the fourth finger of his right hand, and wondered what the man who’d given him this ring, his own father, would have done in a crisis like this one. Though he hated to admit it, or to acknowledge that Yixing’s challenge was a valid one, deep down Kyungsoo knew what his father’s next step would have been—what Kyungsoo’s next step needed to be.
“There’s no guarantee he can do anything about this,” Kyungsoo responded after another moment of consideration. He studiously avoided naming the man in question, but Yixing had no such qualms.
“Sehun is the most powerful vampire there is,” Yixing reminded his cousin. “If anyone’s going to be able to fight this thing, it’ll be him.”
“He’s the ing King,” Kyungsoo hissed bitterly. “Who’s to say he’ll even see me?”
Yixing rolled his eyes then, and the motion lifted a little of the tension that had threaten to drown them both since Yixing had first come in to report. “You’re a Commissioner, a public official under his direct control. By law he must grant you an audience.”
Kyungsoo’s cousin then looked pointedly at the other ring Kyungsoo always wore, this one a pale gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. “Besides, you’re you,” Yixing added, watching Kyungsoo flex his left hand in discomfort and frown again. “He’ll see you, trust me.”
Yixing was right, of course. Kyungsoo simultaneously cursed and blessed his best friend’s uncanny wisdom as he dutifully followed a steward down the long hall that connected the public palace entrance with the King’s greeting room. He’d arrived early, hoping to catch the King before his schedule of meetings filled up for the day, and had had no problem getting an audience after he tentatively offered his name, position, and a shortened version of his petition to the palace official stationed at the gate. The man had done a double take at the mention of Kyungsoo’s name, and had looked confused when the only position Kyungsoo offered was Commissioner, but he still managed enough composure to give Kyungsoo the necessary forms to fill out before he called a steward to take Kyungsoo to see the King.
The slip of admittance for petition was crumpled in his fist but Kyungsoo clutched it like a lifeline. That paper was a physical reminder that Kyungsoo was just like everyone else; just a citizen coming with a problem to present before his country’s king; just a man in desperate need of help and forced, without any remaining options, to turn to his absolute last resort. He wasn’t anyone special when he had that slip to hide behind, and he certainly wasn’t in need of a personal audience with just the King—even though that’s what he got. Though royalty was usually surrounded, by officials and guardsmen and advisors and powerful nobility, when he was ushered into the King’s sitting room by the same steward he’d followed there, Kyungsoo was quick to realize that the place was essentially empty; aside from the steward, Kyungsoo and the King were the only two remaining in the room.
Kyungsoo grimaced when the steward introduced him as “King’s Consort Do;” nevertheless he dropped into a low bow, then held out the petition paper toward the King, his head down with his gaze directed toward the floor.
“Don’t hide, Soo,” a voice lisped softly from the far end of the room where the meeting throne sat. “You’re better than that.”
Kyungsoo wanted to snap a quick witted reply, to rant and cry at the King’s feet, and to argue that the King had no right to know whether or not Kyungsoo really was better than that. To rage that the King had absolutely no right to just call him Soo like it hasn’t been years since they’d last seen each other. But he didn’t.
Instead Kyungsoo looked up, finally, and drank in the sight of King Oh Sehun.
Sehun looked older, more refined even, and Kyungsoo was reminded that it had been a very long time since he’d even been to the City, let alone to the palace. And Oh Sehun? Since Kyungsoo had last seen the blonde man who lounged before him on the throne, it had been a very long time indeed.
Kyungsoo swallowed hard, drawing his feelings into himself so as to keep Sehun from reading them in the expressions on Kyungsoo’s face. When he felt in control again, he replied with perfunctory respect, “As you command, Your Majesty.” He kept his voice purposely dry and devoid of emotion and could practically hear Sehun’s pout at receiving such a static answer. What Kyungsoo could actually hear was Sehun’s accompanying sigh when Kyungsoo dropped his eyes back to the soft, carpeted floor beneath his feet and once again held out the slip of admittance for permission.
When Kyungsoo continued to avoid eye contact, Sehun sighed for a second time, seemingly accepting the formality of Kyungsoo’s visit. “You have a petition?”
Kyungsoo spoke slowly; what he had to say was more important than this petty drama between them.
“A virus has taken hold in my jurisdiction. It is only killing vampires and all efforts to combat this plague have, up to this point, been unsuccessful. This humble Commissioner is here to request the Crown’s assistance in resolving this matter. Please know that this humble Commissioner would not presume to disturb Your Majesty for so paltry an issue were this case not so deadly to Your Majesty’s subjects.”
Sehun held up a hand so Kyungsoo abruptly completed his spiel with a shallow bow before Sehun could have the satisfaction of thinking he’d managed to disrupt Kyungsoo’s careful control.
“You are the King’s Consort, Kyungsoo.” Sehun’s reminder of Kyungsoo’s official title sounded a little grumpy, but Kyungsoo couldn’t be sure because he still wasn’t looking up. “Stop debasing yourself and referring to yourself otherwise.”
“Your Majesty,” Kyungsoo tried to protest, “I’m a Commissioner to the people of this country and—”
Sehun cut him off. “You could be Commissioner of this entire nation and the next,” he said, “but you will refer to yourself with the respect your position deserves.”
With that, Kyungsoo snapped. He dropped the petition slip he still held up between them and stalked forward until he and the King were practically nose to nose. If they still had heartbeats and a need to breathe Kyungsoo would have been close enough to Sehun to hear the breaths and beats of the King’s heart and lungs. As it was both their hearts had long stopped beating, but Kyungsoo still caught Sehun’s sharp intake of breath when he approached, the reaction a lingering trace of Sehun’s human life even though it had been years since the King last felt the compulsion to breathe.
“With that title I am nothing more than a glorified trophy wife.” Kyungsoo wasn’t breathing hard, his heart wasn’t beating fast, and his cheeks weren’t flushed, but he was livid and Sehun could tell. “As Commissioner I can at least use my small amount of influence to help people. So don’t dishonor the work I’ve done for this country and its citizens by ordering me around and telling me how to identify.”
“You are my subject and I am your King,” Sehun countered. “I can order you however I please.”
Kyungsoo rolled his eyes when Sehun’s smile became a lewd grin. No doubt the King was considering all the ways he could exercise his sovereign power with regard to ual activities, but Kyungsoo was having none of that.
“Your Majesty said in your wedding vows that we are equals,” he reminded Sehun smugly. “If Your Majesty can order me, I can do the same to Your Majesty.”
Sehun considered this with his lip pulled taut between pointed fangs that Kyungsoo vividly remembered the pinch of against his skin. Eventually Sehun laughed, darkly, and said, “Oh it’s a give and take now, is it? Might I remind you, Kyungsoo, that wedding vows regarding equality between spouses only apply to those who actually act like they’re married in the first place.” Kyungsoo gaped; it was a low blow. “Additionally,” Sehun mimed counting off on his fingers as his smirk returned, “If we are mutually able to command, we are necessarily also at an impasse. In that case, I will continue to refer to you as King’s Consort as long as you insist on calling me Your Majesty.”
The King looked proud at this response to his and Kyungsoo’s debate, but suddenly all Kyungsoo looked was tired.
He took a half step back but stayed close enough to Sehun to brace himself on the arm rests of the meeting throne so he could look his King directly in the eye. “My people are your people too, Your Majesty.” His continued use of Sehun’s title had Sehun frowning seriously, but the expression melted away as Kyungsoo’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Sehun, please. They need your help.”
“And I need you,” Sehun answered, his voice equally low in volume and weighted with emotion. “Come back to me and I’ll do everything in my power to destroy this virus and find its cure.”
Somehow Kyungsoo had known it would come to this. It wasn’t mere avoidance that had him turning to the King only as a last resort; no, Kyungsoo had known even before he’d left his jurisdiction that Sehun would do anything, would say anything, to get Kyungsoo to stay.
And somewhere, deep down and perhaps in the same hidden place of his heart where Kyungsoo had known that he must go to Sehun, Kyungsoo also knew that he wanted to stay. He didn’t want to be diminished to merely the consort of the King, and he didn’t want all his work as Commissioner to suddenly be for naught. But he did want Sehun, and that want was suddenly desperate, as strong even as the clawing hunger that enveloped every newly made vampire right after his change.
The realization was startling. In seconds Kyungsoo was on the opposite side of the King’s sitting room, staring across at Sehun’s maddening grin. The King had won, and they both knew it.
“Fifty years,” Kyungsoo bargained. His voice was no louder than it had been before but Sehun heard him just as easily, even across the room’s expanse.
“One hundred,” Sehun replied in kind, “and you can stay on as Commissioner.”
“The City disagrees with me,” Kyungsoo grumbled, giving in almost too easily. “I’m a much more pleasant personality out among the smaller towns.” He smiled for the first time since he’d entered the room and Sehun his lips at the small glimpse of a pointed fang. “The food’s easier to catch.”
Sehun was nonplussed. “You realize that living here means you don’t have to go human hunting at all unless you choose to? As King’s Consort—” Kyungsoo’s fist clenched around the paper still in his hand and Sehun rephrased. “As a Commissioner, and beloved husband of the King, you would want for nothing.”
“There are still too many people here,” Kyungsoo countered again, his weakened resolve became steadily more obvious.
As quickly as Kyungsoo had separated from him, Sehun brought them close together again, leaving his throne to press Kyungsoo up against the far wall in an instant. “In my world there is only you,” Sehun whispered with his fangs tickling the pale surface of Kyungsoo’s neck where his jugular once pulsated.
Sehun along the line of Kyungsoo’s jaw and nipped teasingly at Kyungsoo’s chin. The angle was slightly awkward at first, and Kyungsoo thought that the difference in their heights was more than he remembered, but then Sehun was lifting Kyungsoo up and aligning their heads so he could slot their lips together.
“Admit it,” Sehun murmured. “You missed this, didn’t you?”
Kyungsoo would admit no such thing, not yet at least—there was too much still left unresolved between them; too many years of separation between himself and this husband he no longer knew; too much pride in Kyungsoo’s upbringing and hundreds of years of existence to cave so peacefully into Sehun’s embrace and to Sehun’s wishes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kyungsoo smirked as he asked this and Sehun groaned when Kyungsoo reached a hand down to cup at his husband’s crotch. With his hand still palming Sehun through his clothes, Kyungsoo pulled his head back a little to meet Sehun’s gaze head on, his eyes twinkling slightly with hinted mischief and his lips swollen, red and plump, and as heart shaped as ever.
“Save my people,” Kyungsoo said before pressing their mouths together again, “And maybe one day I’ll tell you.”
“In fifty years?” Sehun inquired, his voice tentative in a way his plying tongue and wandering hands were not.
Kyungsoo’s answer was immediate. “Fifty years?” He scoffed and shook his head. “No, Sehun. I’ll take not one moment less than one hundred.”
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