A/N: Not a shipping fic, but this is based on the Suspian kiss in the Prince Caspian movie, or rather, the hug afterwards. (Watch the way Caspian wraps around Susan and tell me this boy isn't touch-starved.) Which is funny, because this is set in a universe where that never happened, and is probably the closest in tone to the books of any of my fics.

Edmund's theory was that Caspian had been beaten. He and Peter had gotten enough canings at school (Edmund more than Peter) to know it was a possibility.

"Who'd cane a prince, though?" Peter said.

"His uncle might have ordered it, to make him the 'right sort' of prince."

"He makes it sound like his uncle didn't have much to do with raising him, though. Anyway, let's stop talking about beatings."

Peter said this last with a glance at their sisters, who were looking rather horrified. Girls' schools were nicer than boys'.

It was Lucy who had seen it, that first time, and come to talk it over with the others.

"I just wanted to cheer him up. He was in that horrible meeting for hours, and the arguments aren't going anywhere, he said so—but he just…froze when I hugged him. And then he sort of patted my back, but all stiff."

"Some people don't like being hugged," Susan said, giving Lucy a one-armed hug to comfort her. "You should have asked first. Did you apologize?"

"Of course! He said it was okay, but far too quickly."

Peter sighed.

"He still hasn't gotten over the 'kings and queens of old' thing. I do wish he'd argue with us more. He'll never be a good king if he's always second guessing himself."

Despite complaining, Peter wore a soft, exasperated smile that made his siblings have to hide smiles of their own. Peter was getting rather fond of their new king.

"Well, you can lecture him on that next time you're telling him how much better you are," Susan said.

"I do not—"

"And in the meantime, no hugging Caspian unless he starts it."

But it turned out hugs weren't the only things that made Caspian react oddly. He startled when Edmund patted his back companionably in passing as they hurried by one another in a hallway. (Rebuilding a kingdom, it turned out, was enough work for five monarchs and then some.) He practically stopped breathing when Peter forgot himself and flung an arm around his shoulders after a sparring session. When they were examining the ruins of Cair Paravel, and Susan took his hand to lead him through the tunnels connecting the clifftop castle and the beach below (which were rather hard to navigate if you weren't used to them, as the Pevensies were), he stared at her wide-eyed.

"Maybe he fancies you," Lucy theorized, half teasing and half jealous.

"Oh, no, not Caspian," Susan said. "Please. He's nice, but I'm not ready for all that to start over again."

"Don't worry," Peter said, patting her shoulder. "If he fancies you, he fancies the rest of us, the way he acts."

"Hey, I am very fanciable," Edmund said, and Peter snorted and grabbed him to mess up his hair, which led to Edmund elbowing Peter, which led to Edmund in a headlock having his hair ruffled and flailing. Susan rolled her eyes and offered Lucy her arm, and they walked off with all the decorum their brothers were missing. None of them noticed Caspian across the courtyard, watching the siblings with a little frown.

The Pevensies did their best to respect Caspian's space after that. Lucy stopped herself from hugging him. Susan resisted the urge to put a hand on his shoulder when he was upset, knowing it wouldn't comfort him as it would her siblings. When Caspian made a brilliant point in the middle of a council session, Peter checked from clapping him on the back so abruptly he ended up banging his fist on the table in the least natural celebratory gesture ever, and Edmund had to go into a coughing fit to hide his laughter.

And it didn't make a difference. Caspian seemed more awkward around the Pevensies than ever. They grew closer to him every day, working together to heal Narnia, and then one of them would start to put a hand on his arm, stopping themselves too late to keep Caspian from seeing. And Caspian would flinch.

They were trying, but apparently even almosts were too much for him.

Caspian finally looked so miserable, Peter insisted they had to do something to make it up to him. And give them a chance to talk things over with him, Susan said, because she was practical, and believed in talking through problems. Edmund suggested something outside, because the weather was glorious, and Caspian might feel more comfortable away from the castle with its bustle of people and its memories of Miraz. (The sooner they got Cair Paravel rebuilt, the better, they all agreed.) Lucy smiled up at the blue sky, and proposed a picnic. Their busy schedules were finally starting to slow; Narnia could spare her monarchs an hour or two.

So, midday a week later found the five of them, sprawled out on a blanket in a flower-strewn clearing a little way from the castle, laughing so hard at a joke Edmund had just made that they were wheezing.

Peter went to clap Caspian's shoulder in the general merriment and hastily stopped himself. Caspian's laughter died.

"Sorry, I know—" Peter started.

"High King Peter," Caspian blurted. "Have I offended you?"

Peter blinked at him.

"What in the world are you talking about? And it's just Peter; we talked about this."

Caspian nodded miserably.

"Peter. Lately, all of you…don't want to touch me."

He tried to say it casually, but couldn't help fidgeting, and the fidgeting embarrassment couldn't hide the confused pain beneath. Lucy desperately wished she could hug him.

"We thought you didn't want us to," she said. "You always get so stiff."

"Oh. I…" Caspian fidgeted harder. "It's only…it's improper for someone of lower rank to touch a prince. My parents died when I was very young, and my nurse was sent away not long after, and Professor Cornelius couldn't be too affectionate; my uncle wouldn't have approved. And he and my aunt weren't the hugging sort."

He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. Edmund whistled.

"You're saying no one's touched you since you were five?"

"Not never. It's not really—"

"Oh, you poor thing!" Lucy cried, unable to stand it any longer, and launched herself at Caspian.

He froze as she hugged him, breath stalling. Worried she'd got it wrong, she was on the point of pulling away when Caspian folded over to wrap himself around her. Susan smiled and moved close to press against his side, pulling him and Lucy into a joint hug; Caspian was surprised when Edmund mirrored her on his other side. He was still learning how affectionate the aloof Just King actually was with people he was close to. And apparently he still didn't trust that he was one of those people.

Peter draped himself over Caspian's back, fully engulfing Caspian in a friendly Pevensie pile. Caspian shuddered and finally exhaled. They could feel him slowly relaxing under them.

"The four of you are so casual with touch," he said. "I've never known such a thing. When you began including me…it was so nice, I suppose I panicked a bit."

"And then we thought you hated it, and stopped," Peter laughed. "Poor Caspian."

"It wasn't that bad," Caspian muttered.

"Yes, it was," Lucy said. "I'd absolutely die if everyone stopped hugging me, and they already do all the time." (Edmund squeezed her, and Caspian, a little tighter.) "You have years to catch up on."

"So you all will be hugging me at every opportunity now, I suppose."

Caspian said it teasingly, because he was still embarrassed, but Susan's voice was perfectly matter-of-fact as she replied.

"Well, yes, we had rather planned on it. If that's alright with you?"

Caspian stopped breathing again for a moment, then muttered something into Lucy's hair that might have been an affirmative and might have been thank you. Lucy could feel his face heating, pressed into the top of her head.

"That's the trouble with this lot," Edmund said. "They always want to be taking your hand or putting an arm around you. And I'm afraid we've rather adopted you now."

"'This lot'?" Lucy demanded. "As if you aren't every bit as bad."

"I am very dignified," Edmund said haughtily, resting his chin on Caspian's shoulder, and Caspian laughed, which of course was what Edmund and Lucy had been going for.

"Narnia's not like it was under the Telmarines, you know," Peter said. "We have to be dignified, but not cold. We're monarchs, not gods. People can touch us."

"It's better they do, actually," Susan mused. "To show we're real. Between all the legends and horror stories, half our people still think we're ghosts, or you're a Telmarine demon. We'll be shaking a lot of hands and wreathing victors in tournaments before it all settles. Or dancing with everyone." She sighed, somewhere between dreamy and tired. "Do you remember the dances we used to have, on the grass in front of Cair? I suppose we really don't have time to organize one right now."

"No, we don't," Lucy said. "And do stop worrying about ruling for a bit."

"Well, someone has to. We should be getting back anyway. We still have to finish drafting those treaties for Galma and Terebinthia." Everyone groaned. "I know, but we can't get Cair Paravel rebuilt without a proper trading network. And if we put off writing them any longer, they'll think us rude, and it'll be so much harder—"

"Alright, Su, we get it," Peter complained.

There was a general sighing and shifting as everyone thought about getting up, but didn't actually want to yet.

"Five more minutes?" Caspian asked, barely audible, still ashamed of his starving need for human contact.

"Of course," Peter said, and settled himself firmly back into the hug. As he was on top, this meant no one else could move either. Caspian sighed softly.

When they finally pulled apart, he was breathing more easily than he could ever remember. And when they started the walk back to the castle, Susan and Edmund wordlessly took charge of the picnic things so Lucy was free to slip her hand into Caspian's and Peter to sling an arm over his shoulder. So Caspian kept right on breathing.