Work Text:
Sunshine lets himself into the gilded cage that houses Prince Raon’s body double. Passion’s suite is filled with baubles and jeweled trinkets. Some are gifts from the royal family, but more of them were liberated from the nobility by Passion’s nimble fingers.
Passion himself lounges on a divan, wearing a cerasian fur coat worth a space yacht. His necklace of compressed black stars is one that Sunshine last saw on a visiting duchess.
Passion has been sculpted over the years into a perfect copy of Prince Raon, from the locks of hair that stray over his eyes to the upturn of his nose. He would have been a better choice than Ghost to play the role, if everyone who mattered didn’t already know about him.
“I brought you a saffron cream from the banquet,” Sunshine tells him, offering up the tiny crystal chalice.
“Real saffron? I heard they were making a fuss.”
Passion sets the carved figurine in his hand onto a game board. He stretches as he sits up. It’s theatrical enough to be a snare, and one that Sunshine walks right into, more out of habit than anything. Passion’s mouth curves into a smirk when he sees Sunshine watching him.
Sunshine ignores it. “The dynasty has recovered a long-lost prince. They’ve thrown bigger parties for less.”
He’s privately miffed that there hasn’t been more of a fuss, although he knows any truly grand affair will take time to plan. Ghost is worth the expense.
“And how is His newly-minted Highness? You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
Passion appropriates the crystal chalice and dips his finger into the pale gold cream. He ignores the miniature spoon and licks the cream from his finger instead. Sunshine doesn’t even pretend that he isn’t looking.
“He’s not any happier about the idea of an arranged marriage than Raon was. The only question is whether he’ll stick it out or run off the way Raon did.”
Passion hmms. “Are you going to tell him you’re the one he’d be marrying?”
Sunshine’s gaze jumps from the dark tint of Passion’s fingernail to his heavy-lidded eyes.
The agreement won’t be final without Ghost’s - Prince Gaon’s - consent, but only a handful of people know that Sunshine is currently favored to win the marriage treaty. Most people forget that he’s the scion of a dynasty himself, too used to thinking of him only as Prince Raon’s companion.
Passion, however, forgets very little that could prove useful to him.
“No,” Sunshine answers. “He wants to go back to Earth.”
Passion makes a face. “No one wants to go to Earth. It’s a primitive backwater.”
Sunshine shrugs. “He misses his horse.”
“What’s a horse?” Passion dips his finger into the cream again, then snorts at Sunshine’s failure to answer. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Shut up. It’s a food.” He’s reasonably certain, anyway. He’d looked up the name, and ‘Spicy’ nearly always appeared in the context of meal preparation.
Passion rolls his eyes. “He’s learning how to farm on this planet. He’s not doing that because he plans to take off and never come back.”
Sunshine considers, not for the first time, how much Passion is wasted as Raon’s body double. He might be running intelligence operations for the whole planet, if he’d been born with worse looks and a better lineage.
Sunshine doesn’t want to think about Ghost’s future plans, or the way his body had felt against Sunshine’s in the garden. It feels twice as dangerous to do so in front of Passion.
He deflects instead. “Did your nails change color?”
“Mood polish from Berigee.” Passion flexes his hand. “I’m not impressed with it yet. Do you want to see if we can create a more spectacular reaction?”
He runs one sticky-wet finger along the line of his collar. Sunshine follows its path and considers. It’s not like Ghost is expecting him, but Sunshine hasn’t left him on his own for any length of time. He doesn’t want Ghost to be worried, or afraid, or homesick. Or lonely.
Passion whistles. “You’ve really got it bad.”
Sunshine startles, and rolls his eyes to hide it. “Just because I’m not in the mood?”
“You’re always in the mood with me. Or you were.” Passion’s gaze on him is heavy and knowing. He isn’t any less appealing than Sunshine usually finds him. He’s also right. Sunshine can’t remember the last time he left this suite without needing to get dressed again.
He deflects again, turning the inquisition back on Passion. “Now that Raon’s run off, how long will you stay?”
Passion shrugs one shoulder. “Until I get bored.”
Sunshine assesses the level of tension that’s gathered, coiled tight, in Passion’s muscles. “You’re already bored.”
Passion slumps back onto his divan, dismissing Sunshine as no longer worth his interest. “There’s a tipping point. You know it when you feel it.”
“If you’re quick enough, maybe you won’t end up as Prince Gaon’s body double. They might not even realize you’re gone for a while, with Raon off-planet.”
Passion picks up a long-stemmed rose and twirls it. Its petals are the same wine-dark red as his nails. The saffron cream sits abandoned and forgotten on the floor.
“You never know,” Passion says. “Maybe you’ll beat me to it.”