Disclaimer: I do not own Prince Caspian, whether movie or not. Also, though I must admit that I hate this particular disclaimer, High King Peter the Magnificent is not mine to keep- I'm just another Peter-obsessed (or William Moseley-obsessed) fanboy.
Yes, I'm a guy and I'm sooooo into Peter/William.
Anyways, enough with my wanderings. This story is basically boy/boy love- Caspian and Peter, to be exact. So if you're not comfortable with these kind of things, or just purely hate it, then I suggest you click the back button or something.
It was late into the night when Caspian finally let go of his work. With his hands in his pockets, the dark-haired man walked quickly, ignoring an old beggar whose rusty tin can had only a few coins in it. Caspian would not stop for anything- after all, he had far more better things to shower money with. Like Peter Pevensie.
That's right, Caspian's lover was, though he hated to admit it, a big shopaholic. No, not for diamonds or those expensive, twinkling rhinestones from Swarovski, but for books. Yes, books. Over the months, the eldest Pevensie had developed a complete devotion to stories, fairytales- everything, and even started on his own just a few weeks ago.
"If I somehow become a famous author, then you must come up to talk shows and such, okay?"
Of course he would. Caspian'd do anything- anything- for his beloved Peter, whether it be buying the groceries, picking Lucy from school, or deciding between two candles for their, as Peter liked to call it, 'romantic dinner nights'… romantic dinner nights? Nearly dropping his bag, the dark-haired man smacked his head, and the running began.
He could already imagine Peter's face- impatient and annoyed, but still downright beautiful. The blonde would scold him for a second, then pull him closer for a tight hug, before settling down for dinner. Other than looking hot in whatever condition, Peter's greatest talent was, lucky for Caspian, cooking. Caspian had eaten in many different restaurants, yet none was even comparable to his lover's culinary skills.
Heck, Peter would even whip up foie gras just for Valentine's Day.
As the elevator door closed back, Caspian stopped. A strange, almost scary aura floated from the apartment that he lived with Peter. Normally, soft music could be heard from the small living room, but, as Caspian pressed his ear against the eyehole, the stereo wasn't playing. Gulping, the dark-haired man took out the key from his pocket, almost dropping it, and unlocked to open the door.
At first, nothing seemed to be wrong, as the whole apartment was neat and tidy, the stereo by the TV and the TV in its usual spot. Then there came the couch. As Caspian drew nearer, he saw a little bit of fluffy material sticking out, and instantly labeled it as 'Peter's Hair'. Once in front of the whole piece of furniture, the handsome, dark-haired man did drop the keys this time.
Peter was sprawled on the couch, an almost empty glass bottle in one hand. The other covered his pink face, which Caspian knew that it was to hide the obvious stress, not the obvious drunkness.
"Where were you all this time?" the younger man slurred, not even looking at his lover in the eye.
"Coming back from work," Caspian smiled, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. It was immediately shaken away. "I'm sorry, Peter, but my boss needed me. If he wasn't so desperate, I would've gone straight home to you."
"Oh? And what would he need help with?" Peter shot an angry glare at him. Not waiting for a reply, he continued, "By the way, you still haven't answered my question."
Caspian blinked. "What question, my love?" by then his voice was low and soft, with a hint of fear. Peter was somewhat a woman, and everyone knew that women were the scariest species on earth.
The blonde was not pleased with his older lover. Scowling as he dropped the Vodka bottle, he moved his other hand so that Caspian could look directly into his eyes while he spoke again. "The question I asked a week ago- the question that has been bugging me ever since that kiss. Tell me, Caspian, would you give up your life for me?"
Caspian paused at the inquiry. Seven days earlier, when the two were shopping for more books, Peter had cornered the dark-haired man, kissing him before asking that question. Caspian, in return, took it as a joke, thus chuckling quietly as he continued book hunting again.
After careful consideration, but ignoring the fact that he could be too honest at times, Caspian shook his head. "No, I would not."
A scream erupted from Peter's throat, and, within a nanosecond, he was gone. The apartment door swung back and forth, hitting the spot that the young blonde's sandals and jacket were just now. Without even planning, Caspian ran after the younger man, calling out his name, receiving stares and frowns from some of the neighbors.
"Peter! Peter! P-" He stopped, right in front of the emergency staircase. Pressing his ear to the door leading to the stairs, just as he did before, he let out a muffled gasp upon hearing quiet, but heavy sobs. Gulping with nervousness and fear, Caspian slowly pushed against the door, cursing under his breath when it creaked.
"Peter?" He whispered, sitting down next to the blonde, who ignored him. "Listen, Peter-"
"No." the younger man cut in. "I won't listen to you. All those times when you said you loved me- they were all false, weren't they? If they were true, you would be very glad to give up your life for me, just as I would do to you."
Caspian shook his head again, this time pulling Peter into a tender embrace, gently rubbing his back. A single crystalline tear slid down his cheek, landing on his hands.
"Peter, the reason that I won't give up my life for you," the dark-haired man murmured, kissing the younger man's ear, "Is because you are my life…"