T'cham, a continuation of your lovely prince!au please. It's so lovely. Maybe the night before their wedding?
Sam can’t believe that he and T’Challa had the same idea. He also can’t believe that his ring is pure vibranium, a silver circle painted lightly with black letters on the inside. T’Challa won’t translate but Sam has a few dozen advisors; between the lot, one of them has to be literate in Wakandan. Honestly, Sam should be too but he’s always been more of an auditory learner.
Twenty-two…. Twenty-three…
They aren’t allowed to see each other a full 24 hours before the wedding. It’s driving T’Challa crazy and he paces his room, back and forth, counting the steps in an attempt to keep himself calm. Shuri watches but says nothing as he spins on his heel and turns around again.
It’s difficult to sleep for Sam. He keeps tossing and turning and eventually gives up with an exaggerated sigh. Part of him regrets turning Steve, his best man, down for some late-night drinking. Then again, the last thing he needs is a hangover on his wedding day.
T’Challa loves the ring Sam gave him. It’s gold, as is the tradition in Sam’s kingdom, but carved on the inside is “I love you” in his handwriting. As much as T’Challa enjoys poking fun at how Sam loops his letters together and scrunches everything so that there’s hardly any room between the words, it’s still Sam and that means more than anything to T’Challa.
Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen…
This is the first time in maybe eight years that they haven’t spoken to each other in so long, Sam realizes. Ever since they were children they’ve always been close, mostly by force, but it wasn’t until they turned fifteen that the teasing and annoyance transformed into genuine friendship.
All Sam wants is to be able to reassure T’Challa that everything will be ok. He knows that it’s all too easy for T’Challa to fall into his thoughts, going over plans and situations too many times for it to be healthy. But Sam has no idea how to get a message to his soon-to-be husband. It’s not like he can fly…
His eyes go over to the bird resting in the corner.
Eighteen… Nineteen.. Twenty…
“You are going to be exhausted for your own wedding, brother,” Shuri comments from the chair she’s sitting in, finally fed up with his pacing. “What are you worried about? You and Sam love each other. There is no question of how this will go.”
T’Challa stops in his tracks. He looks down at his hands. The left is where the band sits, glittering. In the morning, he will have to take it off and wear it around his neck, keeping it secret. That is fine. After the ceremony he will no longer have to hide how much he cares for Sam.
Something taps on the window. Both T’Challa and Shuri exchange a look and, silently, she draws a large dagger out of its hiding place under her skirt. T’Challa reaches for the war club that is leaning against the wall. It’s a gift but, well, not dying from an assassination attempt takes precedence over being polite.
Shuri flings open the window and prepares to strike, but instead of a person it’s a bird that comes inside. T’Challa recognizes Redwing instantly and smiles even as the falcon lands on his bed and sticks his foot out. If a bird could look annoyed, Redwing is.
“What is it?” Shuri asks as T’Challa takes the note off of Redwing’s leg. He smiles and, well, that’s all Shuri needs to know.
Both T’Challa and Sam sleep peacefully that night.
[First part here. Requests and commissions are open]
