#auhhh its not really a prompt but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kptssecretsanta · 4 months

Text

Merry Christmas, @monochrome-crisis!

Dear @monochrome-crisis, I have really enjoyed writing this for you, and I hope you like it. Your prompts were delightful and it was a lot fun playing around with these two. Happy Holidays if you observe, and happy fic-gift-day to you if you don’t! Best, your anon gifter.

TAGS: established relationship, secret relationship, arranged marriage, road trip, sort of, running away,

SUMMARY: Chay stands quite still and watches him for several seconds, but it doesn’t help to make the jumble of nonsense words rearrange themselves into useful sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “An inauspicious start to what, precisely?”

“Why, to your marriage, of course!”

*****

can’t let this wait one more day

It’s Tankhun who accidentally breaks the news to Chay, on a rainy October afternoon when he’d expected to face nothing more challenging than a couple of hours playing the new Spider-Man game. A problem with his XBox has him venturing down to Arm’s office-cum-armoury-cum-tech lab, where he finds Tankhun sitting cross-legged on the floor, cutting pictures of floral arrangements and men in alarmingly colourful suits out of a vertiginously tall stack of bridal magazines. He snips some of them out with painstaking precision, and scratches the scissors angrily across others, his choices made according to some arcane and unknowable criteria. The images that survive his process are passed to Arm, who dutifully and efficiently pastes them down into a pastel pink, faux-fur-covered scrapbook.

“Khun? Is everything… Are you ok?”

“Auhhh! My favourite brother-in-law!” Tankhun cries at a volume that isn’t quite ear-piercing, but is certainly louder than required given the three of them are alone in an echo-y room, and Chay’s ears are less than thirty centimetres away from his mouth. “Everything is so much more than fine! It’s all wonderful! Practically perfect, in fact! Only do say you’ll let me dress you, nong, it would kill me to see you walk down the aisle in someone else’s shoes! And you wouldn’t break my heart like that, hmm, not on your wedding day? It would be a harbinger of so, so much bad luck! Such an inauspicious start, no?!”

Chay stands quite still and watches him for several seconds, but it doesn’t help to make the jumble of nonsense words rearrange themselves into useful sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “An inauspicious start to what, precisely?”

“Why, to your marriage, of course!”

***

“Nothing is set in stone,” Arm promises him, trying to calm him down while Tankhun flaps off to find Porsche. “It’s just an idea, at this stage, that’s all. Just something that was suggested - really, it’s more like it was vaguely alluded to - at the last family meeting. It doesn’t mean you have to marry anyone you don’t want to.”

The atmosphere in Arm’s little misery-bunker has always been a bit sad, but it’s never felt quite as overwhelmingly damp and awful as this moment in time.

“I know you mean well, but ‘we might not marry you off against your will’ isn’t actually as reassuring as you seem to think it is,” Chay points out. He’s just pleased he can still form coherent words; that must mean the worst of the panic attack is subsiding.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Arm says, and Chay tries very hard to find the deeply sympathetic look on his face comforting instead of terrifying.

***

Chay: hey

Chay: u busy?

Chay: i need to see u its urgent

Chay: ive run away im at the boba place

Chay: the one with the cute plants inside where you kissed me that time

Chay: pls don’t take long they’re cutting me off

not my secret bf: be there in ten

***

Macau picks Chay up in his older brother’s convertible, stolen for the occasion, and drives off without any questions. The extent to which he’s ride-or-die is, in Chay’s opinion, one of his absolute top-ten best traits. At Chay’s request, he heads out of the city, no particular destination in mind. He doesn’t say anything until they’re far enough out they’re relying on headlights, and the sound of rain on the windscreen is louder than the traffic.

“Whatever happened, it’s ok, babe. I promise.”

“You won’t say that when you know!” Chay cries. “Hia wants me to get married, Cau, it’s really serious!”

“What?”

“That’s what Arm said. And Khun! I’m sorry, babe, I know he’s your cousin, but also. What the fuck? How could he know something like that and not tell me!” Chay’s voice rises frantically, reaching a fever pitch as he vents his frustration at once again being the last one to find out important information about his life. “Oh my god, what if it’s to some disgusting greasy old man who wants a good little wifey, that Kinn needs to sign some business deal with?” Chay says suddenly, face awash with horror.

“Ok, first of all,” Macau says, glancing over at Chay from the driver’s seat of with a grin of a distinctly gremlin-y variety creeping across his face, “if Kinn needed someone to sign a contract that badly, he’d just break their fingers until they signed it.”

“That’s not reassuring, Cau.”

“And second of all,” Macau presses on, ignoring Chay’s point completely, “I’m not gonna let you marry anyone else, so it doesn’t matter anyway, hmm?”

“You really think they’ll listen to you?”

Macau frowns, impish grin fading as quickly as it had appeared, and clicks his fingernails on the wheel, the way Vegas really hates. “I dunno. Maybe? And if they don’t, we could just… leave, I guess.”

“I’m not - listen, babe, I love you, but your uncle kept my mum locked away in an attic for eighteen years because she married the wrong guy, so like. I don’t have that much faith in Kinn or Korn or Vegas to be super chill about someone trying to leave the family.”

Macau shoots him a quick glance, eyes slicking sideways before snapping back to the road. “Well, if you put it like that…”

“Look, you don’t have to come with me,” Chay says, voice laced with grim determination. “I know you – all your family are here, your whole life is here. But I think I have to leave.”

“Ok, ok. But you don’t have to go now,” Macau says. “We can come up with a real plan, take a little time.”

“I can’t go back. I can’t walk back in there. I can’t spend another second there.”

Macau swerves suddenly and pulls up on the side of the road, switching the engine off but leaving the headlights on, so the curtains of thick rain ahead of them are illuminated in their glow. Turning to face Chay, he reaches over and takes his hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing gently.

“Hey,” Macau says softly, which catches Chay’s attention more than any amount of screaming would have. “I’m sorry my family is such a fucking nightmare. I’m not - of course I’m not gonna make you go back. If you wanna leave tonight and never come back, we can do that.”

“But?” Chay asks nervously. Macau lifts a questioning eyebrow. “It sounded like there was a ‘but’ coming next.”

“Nope,” Macau says easily, shaking his head and letting Chay see the truth shining bright in his eyes. “No ‘but.’ I’d follow you anywhere, Porchay.”

“Cau…” Chay says, releasing the name like an invocation into the night air.

Macau stares at him, gaze far too intense to bear for long, and then he turns to look out at the road spilling away into the darkness ahead of them. “Chay, you know, we could - if you want - they can’t make you marry anyone if you’re already married.”

“Fuck.” Chay lets out a breath, a long, deep exhalation that carries away half the tension in his whole frame. “How are you so perfect when your family is so…”

“Shit, no idea.” Macau laughs and it’s not pleasant. “This is why I didn’t want to tell them about us. They ruin everything they touch, and I wanted to try and keep you whole as long as possible. So I’d get it, you know, if you don’t want - augh!”

Macau shrieks a little, very bravely, as Chay throws himself across the centre console and clambers eagerly if awkwardly into his lap, winding long slender brown arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely until one of them accidentally jams a knee into the horn.

***

The hotel is not quite clean enough to be boring, and just a little too rundown to be charming. It’s the last place anyone would ever think to look for them, which means it’s Macau’s new favourite spot. He pays for one room, daring the older man behind the desk to say something about the way he has his arm wrapped around Chay’s waist, fingers tapping out a gentle rhythm on his hips. Chay’s arm is draped over his shoulder in turn, so he can lean easily into his side, soaking up his warmth.

There’s a horrible pause where the guy hangs on to the key a little too long, and then Macau tips his chin up defiantly. His hand closes around the key and whisks it away from him.

“We can find it ourselves,” he says. It’s not until they’re halfway down the hallway to their room that he realises the guy had absolutely no intention of helping them with their bags.

Not that they have bags, per se. Chay has his old school backpack with him, which he’d hurriedly stuffed with a couple of pairs of underwear and some clean socks, a spare power bank for his phone and laptop, and more snacks than Macau’s seen in one place outside of a child’s birthday party.

Macau, on the other hand, has his phone, battery currently hovering around 19%, and his wallet.

“I thought,” Chay says defensively, when he catches Macau eyeing his stash, “that I might have to get the bus somewhere.”

Macau shrugs out of his bomber jacket and tosses it haphazardly across the room. “You shut your mouth. My fiancé doesn’t take the fucking bus.”

“Fiancé,” Chay murmurs to himself, rolling the word around his mouth. “Shit, Cau. Are you sure?”

“I am if you are.” Macau swallows and ignores the too-fast beat of his heart. Chay’s hand wraps around his wrist, fingertips pressing gently against his pulse point. Macau loves his touch so much; he hates why they’re here, but he’d be lying if he said he hates getting this much attention from Chay all at once, after months of existing from one stolen moment to the next.

Macau’s vague idea of showering and then planning the rest of his life is quickly shelved. He’s too busy letting Chay tumble them into bed, rolling over so Chay can pin his wrists and grind his hips down. Chay licks into his mouth and then laughs at the dramatic whine he lets out when he pulls away again too soon. It’s just for show; they both know Chay would never leave him so unsatisfied.

They make love on scratchy sheets in a cheap hotel on the outskirts of the city, because neither of them could bear to drive any further, because they both need to get their hands on each other, because Chay doesn’t mind being Macau’s dirty little secret but he’s damned if he’ll be anyone else’s husband, and because Macau has had a lifetime of watching his family destroy every good thing that wanders into its path, and he’ll be damned if he lets Chay be their next target.

As they fall asleep curled into each other, all warm skin and slow breathing, soft lips and steady heartbeats, Chay gives Macau the other reason he couldn’t marry anyone his hia chose for him. “I want to wake up next to you. Tomorrow. All my tomorrows.”

***

Arm wakes Chay gently, shaking his shoulder and stepping back discreetly as his eyes flutter open. Years of practice avoiding the flailing arms of a recently-roused Tankhun, Chay assumes.

“Shit. How did you find us?” he mumbles, pulling the sheets over his head.

“I don’t know where to start. You and Khun Macau have about twelve trackers between you, not counting your phones and his credit card.” Arm tugs the sheet away and turns his tablet around; it’s a mass of blinking dots concentrated in a small cluster.

“Where’s Macau? What have you done to him?” Chay cries when he realises he’s alone in bed.

“It’s ok, Khun Chay, he’s just getting coffee,” Arm says. He sounds calm, but Chay’s seen him like this before and knows it doesn’t mean he’s not alert.

“If you try and keep us apart, I’ll scream so loudly that everyone in the hotel’s gonna think you’re murdering me,” Chay says. “I’m a singer, I can do it, phi. My lungs can do things you wouldn’t believe!” He’s aware that he doesn’t look all that threatening, probably, sleep-dopey and with his hair all mussed up, but it’s worth a try. His hia raised Chay very carefully, though, and the second most important lesson he ever taught Chay was not to back down from a fight he believed in.

(The first lesson was not to start fights you can’t win, but Chay is deliberately choosing to ignore that.)

“Ah, no, it’s ok, nong,” Arm says quickly. “Look, here’s Khun Porsche, I’m sure he can explain it all better than I can.”

As the door opens, Chay snorts the snort of a man who has a deep fraternal understanding of Porsche’s ability to explain anything at all.

“Hia!” Chay leaps off the bed and strides angrily across the room, shoving at Porsche’s shoulder before the door has even swung closed behind him. “You son-of-a-bitch! You couldn’t even tell me to my face, what the fuck!”

“Chay – ”

“No! NO!” Chay pushes him again, hot tears of frustration welling in his eyes and making his brother’s face mercifully blurry. “How dare you? I had to find out from Tankhun, of all people?! And it’s not until I leave that you suddenly give a damn what happens to me? Get out of my way, I’m going to find Cau and if you try to stop me, I’ll, I’ll, I’ll. I’ll fucking bite you, I don’t know!” He’s properly crying now, beating his fists uselessly against Porsche’s chest.

“Chay,” Porsche says again, far more gently this time, and he catches Chay’s wrists before pulling him into a tight hug. “Chay, it’s ok, it’s all ok, I promise.”

“Hia!” Chay squeezes out between loud sobs. “Hia, please.”

“Arm,” Porsche says, craning to speak over Chay’s head. “Arm, I think you need to go fetch Macau now.”

***

“The thing is, Khun Chay, that while the relationship between the major and minor families is much closer these days – ”

“You mean because hia and Khun Kinn can’t keep their hands off each other,” Chay asks. He knows that’s not really why, but it’s funny to see Arm trying to work out how to answer the question in front of Porsche. He’s currently sitting on Macau’s lap, arms wound around his neck, and while he hasn’t actually growled or snapped his teeth at anyone who comes near them, his demeanour is carefully cultivated to suggest that he might.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. That’s not how I’d – but yes, I suppose Khun Kinn and Khun Porsche do have quite a noticeable physical connection,” Arm admits reluctantly. “And it’s good that they’re married. That’s great! But obviously there’s the deposed remnants of the former minor family to consider – oh. Umm. Sorry for your loss, Khun Macau – but the point is that now we all have some distance from the attempted coup, Khuns Kinn and Porsche thought that, uh.”

“They thought it would be convenient to get me married off, I know.”

“No, hang on, it wasn’t - it was just a silly thing Khun suggested, and Kinn said it - ok, yeah, he said it would be convenient, yeah, but we weren’t going to actually do anything about it!” Porsche throws his hands up in exasperation, nearly knocking the tablet out of Arm’s hands. “You didn’t have to run away on a whim, Chay!”

“Hang on, what does this have to do with Vegas and I?” Macau asks, at the same time as Chay mutters ‘It wasn’t a whim!’

“What do you mean?” Porsche asks him, leaning forward with genuine confusion on his face. (Chay recognises it from the days when he used to ask Porsche for help with his algebra homework.) “It was – the plan was – well, no, it wasn’t a plan, but Khun’s idea was that you two should marry each other.”

“Oh shit,” Macau says, squeezing Chay’s waist tightly. “Oh, shit, babe! Do you know what this means?!”

Chay wriggles around in his lap to face him, disbelief and hope warring on his face. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?”

“I think he’s saying that they’re not gonna stop us being together, actually,” Macau says. He reaches up to stroke Chay’s face gently, running the back of his knuckles reverently along his cheekbones.

“Hang on,” Porsche says. “Hang on, are you two – is that why you shared a room?!” He turns to stare at Arm accusingly; Arm quickly buries his head in his tablet and starts tapping away furiously. Porsche tuts and turns back to the disgraced runaways. “Macau! Did you fuck my brother last night?”

“Of course not!” Macau says quickly, and then his little gremlin grin returns. “Fun fact, phi, your baby brother is a very talented top.”

“Gah, shut up, shut the fuck up,” Porsche shouts, then covers his ears and starts humming when Macau opens his mouth to elaborate.

“Stop antagonising him, and I’ll stop Tankhun from dressing you in cerise on our wedding day,” Chay murmurs to Macau, slapping a hand over his open mouth. Macau licks his palm, mostly out of habit, but nods his agreement.

“It’s ok, hia, you can listen again,” Chay says. Arm leans over without looking up from his tablet and taps him on the shoulder. “I said, it’s ok. We’ve decided to take a rain check on the eloping plan today.”

“Oh, Khun Nu will be so relieved,” Arm says. “He was so worried.”

“Aww,” Chay says, willing to be far more lenient now things are going his way. “He was worried about Cau and I? That’s so sweet.”

“Oh, yes.” Arm pauses briefly. “Well. That, and he was worried he’d ordered a custom Armani for nothing.”

#monochrome-crisis #kptssanta23

4 notes · View notes