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Akash, the head of kitchen staff, watches two trucks pull up on the dusty drive. Servants swarm around the vehicles, unloading large wooden crates branded with a red logo in the shape of a crab. Everyone knows that the next twenty-four hours or so are probably going to be hell, because Pagan’s been looking forward to today for months. It’s been exactly a year since Ajay’s disastrous bus experience and Pagan’s ridiculous helicopter entrance, so Pagan’s calling it their one year anniversary. Akash thinks it’s kind of unfortunate to celebrate today, considering at this time a year ago, Ajay and Pagan were hardly friendly. In fact, he’s pretty sure Pagan stabbed someone with a fork at the dinner table right in front of Ajay. Well, the king always did have a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Still, Akash supposes there must be some shared madness there because who the hell ends up with a flamboyant warlord who makes torture dinnertime entertainment? Shaking his head, Akash resigns himself to the whims of Kyrat’s king, who is currently standing in the driveway, watching workers bring crate after crate of crab into the palace.
Every now and then, Pagan shouts at a servant to hurry it up. Akash can’t summon the effort to feel annoyed at Pagan’s micromanaging when he’s looking increasingly happy (and increasingly manic) by the second. His smile gets broader and broader until the trucks are finally unloaded and Pagan strides back into the palace, muttering something about candles.
---
Ajay blinks a couple times, squinting blearily at the sun streaming into the room. Pagan’s not in bed, which is an unusual reversal of events. King or no, Pagan is rarely up before nine. He’s not a morning person, although Ajay concedes that that might be an understatement, shuddering briefly as he remembers the last time a servant tried to wake Pagan up for a “terrorist emergency” at five in the morning. But today, Pagan’s side of the bed is cold and Ajay wonders if he’s missed something.
He’’s a bit earlier than usual this morning, although it’s already bright and the morning fog has cleared. He throws on some comfortable clothes and heads out for his daily run. He has free rein of the palace and its grounds, and over the months he’s taken the opportunity to explore. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that once he went past the guards and the general bustle that surrounded the main building, the palace included a vast expanse of land that extended straight into the mountains. Kyrat, despite its violence and distasteful economic means, was stunningly beautiful.
Generally, the solitude and quiet of nature appeal to Ajay, and he doesn’t bother listening to the radio or to music while running, instead preferring the simple rhythm of his footsteps and his breathing with the occasional chirping bird in the background. Today, though, he turns his radio on, deciding he should listen to the news. Admittedly, it’s usually more propaganda than actual information, but Ajay figures he’ll chance it this morning. He turns to Radio Free Kyrat, deciding to deal with Rabi Ray Rana’s amusing but irritating as hell brand of humor. The current broadcast is relatively uninteresting, and as Ajay runs, he gives up on trying to get the news and lets the report fade into white noise.
A sudden burst of volume shakes his focus, and Ajay slows down to a walking pace, now listening intently to the broadcast.
“Now, everyone knows today is a very important day!”
Ajay pauses, thinking. Was it a national holiday? Honestly, Ajay wasn’t even sure what the date was.
“Today marks a milestone for our glorious leader and his consort, Ajay Ghale.”
Ajay comes to a complete halt. Being in a relationship with Pagan meant being in the public eye, of course, but he never relished the media coverage. Besides, he’s not sure what milestone this broadcaster is referring to. He wonders if it’s some gossip station that’s just making up headlines for news.
“It’s the one year anniversary of Kyrat’s cutest couple! In a statement given to the media this morning, our glorious leader himself said, ‘It’s a very exciting day for us. I expect Kyrat to celebrate accordingly.’ Indeed, King Min has declared today a national holiday in honor of this momentous event.’”
What? Shit. It’s hard for Ajay to believe that it’s been a year, but he supposes time does go faster when you’re with someone like Pagan. Ajay feels instantly guilty for being so unaware of something Pagan’s clearly been anticipating for a while now. Already, he begins thinking of ways to try and make it up to him but then -
“When asked if he would be making a public appearance with Ajay, his majesty laughed and said “Don’t count on it. Ajay and I are going to be rather - ah, busy tonight.”
“This is it,” Ajay thinks grimly. “I’m going to murder him.”
---
Ajay returns to the palace quickly, retracing his familiar running path. Searching through the many rooms of the main building sounds intensely unappealing, so Ajay asks the first servant he runs into where Pagan is. All the palace staff are well-trained in keeping their opinions to themselves; it’s a job requirement when you work for a temperamental warlord who’s just a little too fond of casual murder. Knowing that, Ajay wonders what the hell Pagan was up to this morning, because there’s more than a slight edge to the servant’s voice when she answers, “His majesty is in the kitchens.”
That’s more than a bit surprising, because Pagan doesn’t really do the cooking around here. Ajay makes his way to the kitchen instinctively. At first, he’d had trouble navigating the palace’s many hallways and rooms but after a year, finding his way around is effortless.
Pagan’s pink suit looks out of place in the kitchen - well, it looks out of place everywhere, Ajay amends, but it looks especially strange against the cold steel grey of the kitchen’s machinery and the dirty off white of the cooking staff’s clothing. Pagan is bent towards some poor chef, and there appears to be a perfectly good pan of scrambled eggs on the stove. Ajay can’t help but think of Hell’s Kitchen but with a higher chance of murder and a more blond, more volatile Gordon Ramsay.
“You’re the head chef here but you don’t know how to properly scramble eggs? Who hired you? Redo those eggs and do them correctly this time or I’ll have you fucking - Ajay!”
Having cleared his throat before Pagan could finish his threat, Ajay stands looking mock-stern, unable to prevent a small smile.
“Pagan, what did I say about threatening the staff?”
“Yes, yes, ‘don’t traumatize the staff Pagan, this is why the assassination attempts happen so often,’” Pagan mocks, pitching his voice slightly higher. “Yada yada, all dreadfully boring stuff.”
Pagan had brightened after seeing Ajay, but now his expression is replaced with a distinctly crestfallen look.
“Why are you awake, Ajay? It’s early.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“It’s our anniversary! I was- I thought breakfast in bed might be nice.” Pagan waves his hand vaguely towards the stove and still-frozen chef.
Ajay’s previous irritation over Pagan’s too-much-information radio announcement evaporates instantly, because Pagan’s disappointment over not being able to serve Ajay breakfast in bed is adorable. Besides, apparently it’s their anniversary and dammit, Ajay’s allowed to be weak-willed.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and then we can do breakfast in the dining room, okay? Try not to kill the cook in the meantime. I’m sure the eggs are fine.”
He’s cooled down since his run, but Ajay still feels a bit gross. Even so, he can’t help but kiss Pagan quickly, murmuring “happy anniversary” as he does so, before leaving.
---
The water feels incredible, the drops beating out a light rhythm on Ajay’s skin. If there’s one thing the palace doesn’t lack, it’s amazing water pressure. Admittedly, it’s a palace, so it doesn’t really lack anything. (Except decent cereal? Ajay would kill for cornflakes at this point, because Kyrati cereal really doesn’t cut it). Ajay likes it when the water is just a little bit too hot, and it doesn’t take long for droplets to condense on the glass door.
For a moment, Ajay just stands under the stream, letting the water wash over him and onto the tile below. It’s relaxing, but the steady noise of the shower is interrupted as Ajay hears the shower door open. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Pagan shut the door again with a gentle click. This shower really isn’t meant for two people, and it’s more than a bit cramped. Pagan’s pressed close to Ajay, no doubt his intention all along, and despite the coldness of the tile wall behind him, Ajay can’t help but feel aroused.
He ignores that for now, asking, “What happened to helping make breakfast?”
“The kitchen staff rebelled and I was kicked out of the kitchen.” Ajay highly doubts that but he laughs anyway.
“Good. You’re probably more useful here up here anyway.”
Pagan leans towards Ajay, smirking slightly, until his lips are inches away from his.
“Excuse you. I’ll have you know I’m an excellent cook.”
Ajay highly doubts that too, but he can’t bring himself to argue about Pagan’s cooking abilities (or lack thereof) when Pagan’s lips are on his and his brain isn’t functioning properly. The steady stream of water is fading into white noise as Ajay leans against the tile and allows Pagan to do what he wants. Pagan pulls back, pupils blown, hair darkened by the water, then mouths at Ajay’s neck, occasionally nipping. Ajay can feel a mark forming, knows it’s going to be an embarrassing hickey, but he lets Pagan do it anyway, too caught up to care. Everywhere Pagan’s touching him feels white-hot and the water vapor makes the heat feel oppressive.
Dimly, Ajay registers Pagan’s hand sliding down his side, coming to rest at his hip. Ajay can’t think past his lust, and the thickness of the air isn’t helping. He’s faintly aware that he’s moaning embarrassingly loudly, but fuck it, Pagan’s already broadcast their relationship to Kyrat, and Ajay can’t be bothered to care anymore. He can feel the slight tremble of Pagan’s fingers on his hips, can tell he’s not the only one who’s not thinking straight anymore. It’s overheated, any coolness in the air long since replaced by a humid heat, and Pagan’s touches feel like they’re burning, hotter and more intense than the near-scalding water. Instinctively, Ajay moves forward, seeking friction, and Pagan’s hand drops finally, finally, to his cock. Ajay arches into the contact, crying out, but the water is making everything too slick and
“Pagan, please.”
He’s practically panting at this point, struggling to breathe in the too-humid air, heart racing at the feel of Pagan’s hand on him. It’s electric, and Ajay starts thrusting into Pagan’s hand, hips moving involuntarily, not bothering to muffle his moans. Pagan’s mouth is on his again, but it’s messier this time, both of them more desperate. It’s not long before Ajay comes, head thrown back against the cool of the tile, the sensation intense and absolute for a few, too-brief moments.
For a couple seconds, the only sounds are their breathing and the water. Then Ajay pushes off the tile wall and carefully moves downward, trying not to knock things over. Frankly, it’s a miracle the shower doesn’t have hair product bottles strewn everywhere like some kind of post-earthquake salon.
In a well practiced rhythm, Pagan’s hands move to Ajay’s shoulders, and Ajay takes Pagan’s cock into his mouth, the taste and sensation familiar. Pagan groans at the heat, feeling flushed and light-headed.
Pagan’s moans are making Ajay feel aroused again, but it’s only been a minute or two, and Ajay’s not that young, contrary to whatever Pagan might say. It’s easy to tell that Pagan’s holding back; his thighs are straining with the effort of letting Ajay control the situation. Ajay taps Pagan’s leg, a familiar sign that he’s okay with letting Pagan move. He feels a hand tangle in his hair and he moans, the vibrations making Pagan shiver, hips snapping forward.
The pace is relentless, and Pagan’s cock keeps hitting the back of Ajay’s throat. It’s almost too much, and Ajay’s eyes tear up with the effort of restraining his gag reflex, but it’s a familiar kind of discomfort and besides, the noises Pagan is making are sinful. Ajay’s content to let Pagan fuck his mouth, and he can tell Pagan’s close, his thrusts becoming shorter and faster. Ajay swallows reflexively, and Pagan comes at the feeling of Ajay’s throat constricting around him, crying out before slumping against the shower door. Ajay lets Pagan pull mostly away, licking and sucking at the head of his cock before Pagan, oversensitive, gently nudges his head away.
Ajay stands up, feeling a little off-balance. They both rinse for a few moments, too sated and comfortable to do anything else. The water’s somehow still warm, although Ajay feels like they’ve probably used all the hot water in Kyrat by now. Before long though, Pagan reaches behind Ajay to turn off the water, and they both step out of the shower, reaching for towels to dry off.
“I thought we said we weren’t having shower sex again after the whole shampoo-in-places-it-shouldn’t-be incident,” Ajay says, ruffling his hair with the towel to dry it off.
“I couldn’t resist.” Pagan pauses in wrapping his towel around his waist. “Besides, are you complaining?”
Ajay smiles at that and raises his hands in mock surrender. They lean in for a kiss, and Ajay means for it to only last a second, but he’s kind of sidetracked by the way Pagan’s drawing him closer and pushing his tongue deeper into Ajay’s mouth. It’s not until both of them get cold from the cooling water that they move towards the bedroom, abandoning their towels to find clothes.
---
Ajay's starving at this point, and they waste no time making their way to the dining room. Pagan sits at the head of the table, and Ajay takes his usual seat at Pagan's right hand side. The table itself is almost ludicrously big, stretching down the entire length of the hall, but right now the room feels intimate, narrowed down to the space around Pagan and Ajay, close and comfortable.
Breakfast is served efficiently, plates being laid down along their end of the table. Scrambled eggs are conspicuously missing.
“I have a short meeting today, but after that I was thinking we could go for a helicopter ride and then have dinner.” Pagan looks eager, like he’s trying to tone down his excitement but failing to do so. It’s unusual, because Pagan’s not the type to tone down anything really.
Ajay pauses from his food and swallows, before saying, “Sounds good.” Ajay’s never been particularly effusive, because his words have never done him much good, so he settles for shooting Pagan a smile and hoping that Pagan gets it.
They’re a strange match. He thinks that sometimes, and he’s certain the palace staff and the citizens of Kyrat do too. Pagan’s over-the-top and Ajay kind of hates being the center of attention, but they’re both more than a little fucked up so maybe they cancel out in some places and add up in the others and everything just balances out. Ajay’s not too sure. He’s always hated math.
---
Pagan leaves soon after breakfast with a quick kiss and Ajay finds himself wandering aimlessly about the palace. It’s not like he doesn’t have things to do. Even though he could just live a life of lazy luxury, he tries to actually be helpful and do something with his life. Ajay has no taste for the intricacies of political games; he understands them well enough but hates how paranoid they make him, how cynical he becomes about people. He has enough trust issues to last him a lifetime already, thanks. No, Ajay likes being out in Kyrat and trying to implement change from the ground up. He’s done everything from helping with farm labor to rebuilding homes, and to Ajay, that’s infinitely more rewarding than anything he could do confined within the palace.
Progress has been slow but steady. Ajay’s nowhere near ready to take over ruling Kyrat, and Pagan still handles the vast majority of the upper-level politics. Still, Ajay feels like he’s beginning to understand Kyrat and the country feels more like home now than America ever did. He’s learning. It’s not like his drug-addicted teenage self ever thought he would be in charge of a country, so it’s a process.
Today, though, Ajay knows there’s no point in leaving the palace since Pagan will be back in a couple hours. Getting up early is catching up with him, and Ajay can’t prevent a yawn, his breakfast making him feel comfortably full and his morning with Pagan making him feel pleasantly content.
It’s apparently a national holiday, so Ajay figures there’s no reason he can’t indulge in a nap. He walks to one of the nearby rooms and sinks into one of his favorite armchairs, drifting off a few minutes later.
---
It’s bright outside when Ajay wakes, and he stretches before checking the time: just past one. Somewhat reluctantly, he gets up and wonders if Pagan’s back yet. He figures he’ll just wander in and out of rooms until he bumps into a servant he can ask. The lounge is nearby, and he opens the door to check if anyone’s in there.
Ajay does a double take. Everything is a horrifyingly garish shade of pink, and he's pretty sure he's about thirty seconds from his retinas burning out. He’s standing there more or less petrified by the assault on his eyes, but distantly he thinks that he’s pretty damn sure when he came in here yesterday the lounge was a perfectly normal, rather pleasant off-white color.
"Ajay!”
Pagan’s voice brings him back to reality. Ajay takes a hesitant few steps into the room, squinting at the walls before discerning Pagan, his pink suit blending into the wall behind him.
“I see you've noticed the new interior design. I was going to do everything in your favorite color, but then I thought about it and do you even have a favorite color? You brood too much to like colors. Besides, then I thought about your style, or lack thereof really, and I realized even if you did have a favorite color it'd probably be black and God, if we'd decorated with that it would've looked like a fucking funeral and that just would've been fucking depressing."
Ajay blinks, bewildered.
"Pagan, my favorite color is blue."
Pagan opens his mouth, then closes it. After a few seconds, he says, in a far less hysterical tone, “Right. Duly noted.”
He looks at Ajay again and then rolls his eyes.
“Honestly boy, are you squinting? Stop being such a drama queen. This is a nice fucking color, okay?”
They start making their way to the door, Ajay unable to resist a bit of teasing.
“You brood too much to like colors? Really, Pagan?”
“Quiet, boy. Aren’t you supposed to respect your elders? Besides, it’s not like you’ve shown any inclination towards design Ajay. You can’t blame me for drawing reasonable conclusions.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do I have a gold statue of myself made in order to like design?”
They bicker their way to the helicopter landing strip.
---
It’s been a while since Ajay’s taken a helicopter ride. He enjoys them, but he doesn’t usually spend his time with scenic Kyrati air adventures. Today’s an exception though, and as the helicopter takes off, he looks down at the receding ground and watches the palace blur into a dark blob against the lush green of the trees. For a helicopter, it’s surprisingly quiet. Ajay’s sure the cabin has been fitted with something to cancel out the noise.
He turns from the window to see Pagan pouring wine into two glasses, impressively stable given that they’re in flight. They clink glasses, say cheers, and drink. Pagan puts his glass down before turning intently to Ajay, face sobering.
“So. It’s been a year.”
Ajay tilts his head slightly, unsure of where this is going.
“I’m aware, Pagan.”
Pagan looks hesitant, and for the second time today, Ajay thinks about how unusual it is to see Pagan anything less than perfectly confident.
“Ajay, I just want to make sure you really want to be here.”
Pagan says it gently, but that stings, and Ajay recoils slightly. It’s probably written all over his face, because Pagan backtracks immediately, shaking his head.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He pauses again, looking like he’s choosing his words with care. “I want to know that you’re happy here, in Kyrat.”
Ajay raises his eyebrows, no longer offended but more than slightly confused. “Of course I am.”
“Really? I don’t see why. This country… Ajay, sometimes I think this country feels like hell. I think I would’ve been a better man if I’d never come to Kyrat.”
Pagan is quiet, uncharacteristically so. It’s something close to a confession, and they both recognize it as such. Ajay doesn’t think too much about Pagan’s exploitation of Kyrat for his own purposes. Repression is a pretty important part of his daily life - Freud would have a field day. It’s not that Ajay has magically overcome what atrocities Pagan committed, it’s just that Ajay can only blame Pagan for so much. There’s something about growing up in a world dominated by illicit power; unscrupulousness is in Pagan’s blood, and while that doesn’t mean Ajay’s willing to justify Pagan’s actions, he can at least accept that. They don’t talk a lot about character, mainly because neither of them have glowing track records.
Pagan’s not asking for forgiveness from anyone right now, so Ajay simply says, “I want to be here.” He says it with conviction. Ishwari always called him stubborn, usually because he was headstrong and rash. But at this moment, Ajay feels like he’s more clear-headed than ever, and he looks at Pagan steadily.
For a second there’s only the muffled sound of the helicopter’s rotor blades. Then, a soft “Okay” and an even softer exhalation. Pagan’s relieved, Ajay realizes, and the small smile Pagan wears as he turns his head away from Ajay and towards the window is proof enough to him that he’s made the right decision, that no matter how insane Kyrat is or how insane Pagan is, everything that Ajay wants is right here.
They sit in peaceful silence, the rotors fading into the background as Kyrat becomes a brilliant blur of color beneath them. Ajay moves his hand on top of Pagan’s, lacing their fingers together. They’re in a helicopter and they have a country to rule and neither of them is completely okay, not after everything, but it’s all sickeningly adorable anyway and damn it, they can have this one moment if they want to.