Chapter Text
Soliras wasn’t supposed to get scared. Or nervous. Hell, even feeling anything other than the rush of fighting was practically a cosmic event for him.
So when Argent actually agreed to go out on a Valentine’s Day date with him, his heart nearly betrayed him on the spot.
They were a weird pair, to say the least. A ruler of a nation built on metal and consequence, and a war-burdened General who drowned his feelings away with cheap liquor and called it discipline.
So the fact that they met at a bar was more than ironic.
Argent never drank, nor did he leave his castle of a house for any reason that wasn’t dressed up as diplomacy or duty. Public spaces were liabilities. Alcohol was a weakness. And romance—romance was a distraction best left to other people.
And yet there he was that night. Sitting on an old barstool and attempting to try Soliras’s coping mechanism.
————————————————————————
Argent did not look like a man meant for bars. The lighting caught awkwardly on the sharp lines of him, as though the place itself was unsure how to accommodate a newcomer. He sat too straight, one hand wrapped around an untouched glass, the other threaded through his long hair.
Soliras couldn’t help but stare when Argent entered. Not because he wanted to, but because his eyes had always wandered toward things that didn’t belong where they were placed.
He has never seen Argent before. And as a regular, Soliras knew the usual faces well enough to recognize when someone stood apart from them so completely.
Soliras was only in the Allyone Kingdom because duty had stationed him there. To monitor the fragile imbalance forming across the continent, and to ensure it did not reach a nation built on weapons and secrets.
Soliras noticed it before he could stop himself. The angle of Argent’s wrist was off, fingers tense where they should have been loose, grip too careful to be practical. The glass wobbled, betrayed by unfamiliar hands.
It was a stupid thing to fixate on. A smaller, quieter disaster than the ones Soliras was paid to prevent.
Still, his chair scraped softly against the floor as he stood.
“Hey,” he said, already reaching out.
His fingers closed around the glass just in time, steadying it before it could tip. The contact was brief, unremarkable. And yet, Argent froze like the interruption had short-circuited something internal.
Soliras frowned. “You’re holding it like it might explode.”
Only then did Argent look at him properly.
Argent blinked, once. Then again, like his brain was resetting.
“I wasn’t going to drop it,” he said. The confidence arrived a second too late to be convincing.
His gaze flicked down to the glass, then back to Soliras’s hand. There was a pause. Then another.
“But,” Argent added after a long pause, “your assistance..”
His mind went blank again, trying to figure out what to say next.
This was not his environment.
Especially when this human statue was infront of him.
“—your assistance is much obliged,” he finishes, hoping that the one infront of him doesn’t pick up on his increasing heart rate.
Soliras blinked at him, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
“*A diplomat in a bar?*” He thought to himself, making sure to burn this image of the clearly embarrassed man into his mind.
“Much obliged, huh? Quite formal for a bar, don’t you think?”
Argent’s gaze flicked down to the glass Jin his hands, then back up, very careful not to meet Soliras’s eyes for too long. “I… I prefer precise wording,” he said, each word slow, deliberate—and very clearly failing to mask the slight crack in his voice.
Sucking at flirting was an understatement for Argent.
He’s never even kissed *anyone* in his life before. Someone pray for this man.
Soliras leaned just a fraction closer, letting the space between them feel more crowded with ither things besides words. “Precise, sure. But sometimes… words are just excuses to avoid saying something else.”
Argent froze, then tried and failed to respond.
“I-I—uh… do not mean… anything improper,” he managed to push out of his mouth, fingers tightening instinctively around the glass.
“Oh?” Soliras tilted his head, smirk teasing the corner of his lips. “You’re saying that like I’d assume otherwise.”
Argent blinked, flustered, his carefully measured composure cracking in small, almost imperceptible ways. “I… I… well—um… of course not. I—”
Soliras let him fumble, watching the flush creep into Argent’s cheeks. “Relax,” he said lightly. “I’m not here to break you. Just… curious. Who are you?”
Argent drew in a careful breath, shoulder squaring as if bracing himself. “I—my name is Argent,” he said. There was a pause, deliberate this time. “I am the ruler of the Allyone Kingdom.”
He waited.
For recognition. For alarm. For the subtle shift in posture he was accustomed to seeing the moment people understood who stood—or in this case, sat—before them.
It never came.
Instead, Soliras went very still. Then, slowly, something bright and unreadable flickered across his expression.
“Huh,” he murmured.
Before Argent could react, Soliras stepped closer and dropped smoothly to one knee beside the barstool. He took Argent’s hand with infuriating ease, bowed just enough to be unmistakably intentional, and pressed a brief, chaste kiss against his knuckles.
“Didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty,” Soliras said, amusement threading his voice. His eyes lifted, sharp and warm all at once. “Especially one who doesn’t know how to hold a wine glass.”
Argent’s breath hitched. “I—“
Soliras rose again, slightly to face Argent’s face. And closer now. Making the air between them feel a bit suffocating. “Soliras,” he added casually. “Thought you might’ve heard my name. Throught my sister. She runs the Hana Republic.
He tilted his head, studying Argent’s stunned expression. “Seems I’ve stumbled into something worth paying attention to.”
Argent took a moment to recover. He had been trained to withstand negotiations, sieges, councils that stretched into dawn. None of that had prepared him for this man kneeling beside a barstool and smiling like rules were optional.
“I… yes,” he said finally, clearing his throat. “I am familiar with your sister.”
His grip tightened slightly around the glass, though he made no move to lift it. “She is… exceptionally intelligent. Strategic. Her governance of the Hana Republic has been… admirable.”
The words came easier when he spoke of her. Facts were safe. Praise, when earned, was simpler than whatever this was.
Soliras hummed, clearly pleased. “She’ll like hearing that,” he said. “Assuming she doesn’t already know.”
He glanced at the glass in Argent’s hand again, then back up at him, one brow lifting.
“You want something different?”
Argent blinked. “Different?”
“Something you can actually hold,” Soliras added lightly, the tease unmistakable now.
A faint flush crept back into Argent’s cheeks. “I—yes. That would be… preferable.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “Thank you.”
Soliras nodded once, satisfied, and turned toward the bar.
He didn’t need to raise his voice. Just a tilt of his head, a brief look. The bartender caught it immediately.
“Two whiskeys,” Soliras said. “My usual.”
Argent’s eyes flicked toward him. “Two?”
Soliras glanced back, smirk returning. “One’s yours. I promise, this one won’t fight you.”
He took his place beside Argent this time, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, the space between them crowded with warmth and unasked questions. The bartender slid the glasses over moments later without ceremony.
Soliras pushed one toward him. “There,” he said. “Much simpler. No explosions.”
Argent stared at the glass, then carefully wrapped his fingers around it. This time, it didn’t wobble.
“…I see,” he murmured, a little relieved.
Soliras watched him take the first tentative sip, eyes bright with interest. “See?” he said softly. “You’re doing great, Your Majesty.”
Argent nearly choked.
They didn’t speak for a moment after that.
Or rather, Soliras spoke. About nothing important. About patrol routes blurring together, about how the bar always smelled better at night, about a job that never really let him sit still. His voice carried easily, confident without trying.
Argent listened.
And stared.
His gaze betrayed him, slipping again and again to details he hadn’t meant to catalog. Soliras’s hair, cut just shy of his shoulders, hung loose down his back, catching the low light in shades of rust and amber and something sun-warmed in between. The kind of color that only came from living outdoors, from long days and longer fights. His skin held that same story, a deep, natural tan etched by work rather than vanity.
Then there were the scars.
Argent’s eyes lingered on one in particular, pale against Soliras’s neck, half-hidden beneath loose strands of hair. He told himself he was only noting it out of habit. A ruler had to recognize damage. A strategist had to read bodies like maps.
That excuse lasted all of three seconds.
Soliras caught him staring.
He smiled, slow and knowing, fingers absently brushing the spot as if to draw attention to it. “Careful,” he said lightly. “You keep looking at me like that, I’ll start charging for the view.”
Argent’s breath caught. “I—was not—” He stopped, regrouped. “I was merely… observing.”
“Sure you were,” Soliras said, amused, eyes bright. “Occupational hazard?”
And there it was. The moment I would personally file away as the exact point Argent realized he was not built quite the way rulers were supposed to be. He had never questioned the direction of his attention before, never stopped to examine why his pulse quickened at the curve of a man’s smile, or why proximity suddenly felt charged instead of neutral.
And I, ever unhelpful, would like to note that this was likely when Argent began to understand he was not quite as straight as a ruler was expected to be. Or at the very least, not as straight as he had confidently assumed.
Unfortunate timing, really. But then again, self-discovery has a way of arriving uninvited—especially when it shows up wearing a smile, scars, and entirely too much confidence.
Soliras continued talking, unbothered. About skirmishes on the border. About sleepless nights and bad coffee. About how fighting never really left you, even when the armor came off.
Argent listened carefully. “I admire that,” he said after a moment. “The… persistence. The willingness to keep standing when it would be easier not to.”
Soliras faltered.
Just barely. But Argent saw it.
A faint tint crept into Soliras’s cheeks, quick as a spark before he laughed it off. “You make it sound noble,” he said. “Most days it’s just stubbornness.”
“Still,” Argent replied, earnest and unguarded now, “it matters.”
Soliras looked at him then, really looked. And for the first time that night, he didn’t joke.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full.
And somewhere between the whiskey and the scars and the way Soliras’s smile had softened, Argent realized with mild alarm that this was no longer a matter of diplomacy.
This was something else entirely.
Then the next drink went down easier than the first.
Then another.
Soliras had shifted fully toward him now, elbow resting against the bar, body angled in a way that felt deliberate. He listened with the same easy focus he spoke with, eyes never quite leaving Argent’s face. It was unsettling. Not because of the attention itself, but because Argent found himself wanting it to stay.
“So,” Soliras said eventually, voice low over the hum of the bar, “do you always look like you’re calculating escape routes, or is that just for special occasions?”
Argent huffed, caught off guard. “I—what? No. I simply… assess my surroundings.”
“Uh-huh.” Soliras’s gaze flicked upward, lingering this time. Not on Argent’s eyes, but his hair.
Argent noticed immediately.
His hair was usually a non-factor. Long, straight, black. Kept neat out of necessity, not preference. It had never drawn commentary before.
Soliras’s fingers twitched, like he was restraining an impulse. “Your hair,” he said, unapologetic. “You ever do anything with it, or does it just… behave like that on purpose?”
Argent’s ears warmed. “It—does what it must.”
Soliras laughed softly. “Figures.”
Another drink appeared in front of them, unasked for this time. Soliras slid it closer with a glance that suggested he and the bartender were already conspiring.
Argent hesitated. Then took it.
The world softened around the edges. Not enough to dull his thoughts, but enough to loosen the tight internal discipline that usually kept everything in line. His shoulders dropped. His grip relaxed. His replies came faster.
“So you really fight all the time?” he asked, curiosity genuine. “No… respite?”
Soliras shrugged. “Comes with the territory. Borders don’t protect themselves.” He paused, then added, quieter, “Neither do people.”
Argent nodded slowly. “That kind of responsibility… it leaves marks.”
Soliras’s smile tilted. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you care.”
“Perhaps I do,” Argent said before he could stop himself.
The silence that followed was sharp.
Soliras’s eyes darkened, interest sharpening into something more intent. “You flirt like you negotiate,” he said. “Accidentally. Then act surprised when it works.”
Argent’s breath caught. “I was not—”
“Relax,” Soliras interrupted gently. “I don’t mind.”
Another drink. Another inch closer. Their knees brushed this time, neither of them moving away.
Somewhere between laughter and an argument over which of them had worse sleeping habits, Soliras pulled a small device from his pocket and set it between them. “In case you ever want to talk when you’re not pretending to be composed in a bar.”
Argent stared at it. Then, after a beat, placed his own beside it.
Their fingers brushed. This time, neither pretended it was an accident.
“You’re trouble,” Argent murmured, more amused than alarmed.
Soliras grinned. “You noticed.”
As the night stretched on, Argent found himself leaning in when Soliras spoke. Laughing when he joked. Returning the teasing in small, careful ways that still made Soliras’s eyebrows lift in approval.
“You know,” Argent said at one point, emboldened by whiskey and proximity, “you are… excessively confident.”
Soliras tilted his head. “Is that a complaint?”
“…No,” Argent admitted. “An observation.”
Soliras’s smile softened at that. “Good.”
By the time the bar lights dimmed slightly and the noise thinned, Argent was warm in places he hadn’t expected. His thoughts felt dangerously unguarded. And when Soliras’s hand brushed his hair, fingers catching lightly in the smooth strands, Argent did not pull away.
“Still observing?” Soliras asked quietly.
Argent met his gaze, heart pounding. “Yes,” he said. “Extensively.”
Soliras’s smile widened, pleased and intent.
The night had stopped being subtle.
And neither of them seemed inclined to stop it.
Soliras was mid-sentence when his wrist buzzed faintly. He glanced down at his watch and froze.
“…Huh.”
Argent tilted his head. “Something wrong?”
Soliras huffed a quiet laugh, more surprised than annoyed. “It’s late. Like, offensively late. Even for me.”
He signaled the bartender with two fingers, already reaching for his wallet. “Probably best we don’t test fate tonight,” he added, half to himself, half to Argent. The tab was closed, paid, finished with the easy confidence of someone used to leaving places just before things got complicated.
Argent rose with him. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely. For the drinks. For the conversation. For… everything else he wasn’t quite ready to name.
They stepped outside together, night air cool against warmed skin. A few lingering patrons glanced their way, the kind of unfocused looks that came from people who had been drinking far more than either of them had.
Argent barely noticed.
They stopped just outside the door.
And then… nothing.
No clean farewell. No polite parting words. Just a shared pause, stretched thin, full of things unsaid and suddenly very loud.
Soliras rocked back on his heels once. Then twice.
Then he sighed, as if surrendering to instinct.
“So,” Soliras said, the word casual but the way he said it was anything but.
He tilted his head, lowering it just enough that Argent couldn’t look anywhere else without it being obvious. The noise of the street seemed to dull around them, like the world had politely stepped back to give them room. His expression was open, curious, not teasing this time. Almost careful.
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?”
The question landed softly.
And still managed to knock everything loose.
Argent’s thoughts scattered in all directions at once, useless and loud. His mouth opened. Closed. His pulse spiked so sharply he was sure Soliras could see it in his throat. He swallowed. Once. Then again, as if his body was trying to buy him time his mind refused to provide.
“No,” he said finally, the word coming out quieter than he intended. Honest. Bare.
Something in Soliras’s expression shifted. Not surprise. Not triumph. Something warmer.
Decided.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, more to himself than to Argent.
He stepped forward.
Not abruptly. Not forcefully. Just enough that Argent felt the wall at his back, cool stone pressing through his coat, a sharp contrast to the heat suddenly everywhere else. Soliras’s presence filled the space effortlessly. One arm came up, bracing beside Argent’s shoulder, caging him in without trapping him. The other hand lifted, fingers hooking lightly beneath Argent’s chin, tilting his face up.
“Relax,” Soliras said quietly, a smile threading through his voice. “I’ve got you.”
Then, softer still, “Consider this my thank-you for the company tonight.”
The kiss was gentle when it came. Almost hesitant. Lips brushing, testing, like Soliras was giving Argent time to pull away.
He didn’t.
Argent’s breath hitched instead, the sound catching embarrassingly in his throat as his hands moved on instinct, fisting in Soliras’s jacket like it was an anchor. The world narrowed to sensation. Warmth. Pressure. The unfamiliar softness of it all.
Soliras smiled against his mouth.
Then he deepened the kiss, just slightly. Just enough to tilt the balance. His lips parted, and his tongue slipped in briefly, careful and unhurried, a quiet question more than a demand.
Argent answered without realizing he’d made a choice.
A small, broken sound escaped him, half gasp, half something else entirely, and his knees wobbled in a way that would have been humiliating if Soliras hadn’t steadied him without comment.
That was when Soliras pulled back.
Too soon.
Argent let out a soft, unmistakably displeased noise before he could stop himself, eyes wide, face flushing violently as awareness came crashing back in. Soliras laughed under his breath, low and fond, clearly enjoying every second of it.
“Easy,” he said, amused. “You’re doing just fine.”
Argent could not, in fact, confirm this.
Soliras lingered just long enough to enjoy the damage.
His thumb brushed once, lightly, along Argent’s jaw, as if committing the shape of it to memory. Then, almost as an afterthought, he leaned in again. Not for another kiss on the mouth.
This one landed softly against Argent’s cheek.
Brief. Chaste. Devastating.
Argent froze outright, breath stalling in his chest as warmth bloomed where Soliras’s lips had been. By the time he processed it, Soliras was already stepping back, the space between them widening far too quickly.
Without another word, Soliras turned away. He lifted a hand, offering a lazy wave over his shoulder like this was all perfectly normal behavior.
“Goodnight, Argent.”
And then he was gone.
The door shut behind him with a soft click that sounded far too final for something that had just detonated Argent’s entire sense of self.
Argent remained where he was, staring after him, heart racing, face still burning. His knees threatened outright mutiny, locking just long enough for him to realize that if he moved too suddenly, he might actually collapse.
He exhaled shakily.
Diplomacy, he decided faintly, had never prepared him for this.