This is a little moment I've been planning on writing for like a year, then abruptly hammered it out on my lunch break today. In an attempt to break myself out of a snippet hoarding habit I've developed over the past few years, I am posting it here today without overthinking it. The song is literally their in-universe song, "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain. This was already among the handful of songs I irrationally associate with CDF due to the timing of when I first discovered it, so 2007 me would be floored about this. Honestly so would 2020 me because I made this MikaKurda's accidental 'first dance' song in the original This Is Us AND left it in when I rewrote the same part again last year. (see "This Is Us 2.0, ch23 'Vampires On Vacation'). It's just one of those things idk what to tell you. Life is so short guys. Romanticize shit gratuitously. (Source: trust me I'm right).


The rising sun has already begun to paint the ocean orange. It'll be peeking over the horizon soon, but bedtime won't commence til Kurda finishes this news article. He feels it's important to stay aware of global affairs, more than ever now that he's a Prince.

He skims the recent updates on federal policy while lying sideways on the couch, yesterday's newspaper in hand. This is how he ends most of his nights. Usually his head is in Mika's lap (or vice versa) during independent reading time, but Mika's been relegated to the kitchen table. Mika has a set of hunting knives to sharpen and he's not allowed to do that on the couch anymore; the steel dust doesn't agree with the handheld vacuum cleaner. But these knives are as close as he gets to his beloved swords this far away from Vampire Mountain, so Kurda chooses to appreciate the rhythmic sound of the whetstone working the blade becoming one with the music on the radio. (Also, Mika didn't say a word when Kurda temporarily adopted an injured duck last month. Fair is fair).

Once Kurda hits the bottom of the page he'll walk over to the kitchen and manually deactivate the part of Mika's brain that would keep him working away at those knives far longer than necessary if left unattended. Mika calls it attention to detail. Kurda calls it obsessive overdrive — but mostly because he likes the consequences. (I.e. Mika rolling his eyes, carrying him to their room and throwing him down on the bed. The classics never get old).Kurda's already looking forwards to that familiar song and dance, but he forces his attention span to hold steady a little longer. Then his attention is pulled to the radio as he recognizes a much more literal song and dance. Human government bureaucracy is immediately forgotten.

…The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful

Stop me and steal my breath

And emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky

Never revealing their depth

The song is on the radio. Their song. Kurda would remember those opening chords anywhere. He doubts Mika remembers it as clearly. Mika hadn't been familiar with the song thirty-odd years ago and he probably hasn't heard it since. Doesn't mean Kurda isn't going to force him to get up and dance to it again. He practically throws the newspaper at the coffee table in his haste to get to the kitchen and pry those stupid knives out of Mika's hands if that's what it takes to —

And tell me that we belong together

And dress it up with the trappings of love

I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips

Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

Mika's already standing up. Waiting for him. The knives lay haphazardly on the table. Mika didn't even bother to put them back in their sheathes, which is so unlike him. Kurda grins up at him. He feels drunk, despite the fact that the bottle of wine he bought yesterday hasn't even been uncorked yet. He slips both his hands into both of Mika's and squeezes them, laughing and tripping over words.

"Mika! It's the song! The one we danced to when we walked into that wedding reception at the hotel, do you remember?! I was dancing with Gracie, gods, she couldn't have been more than three. I was trying to dance with you too, but you were being a right stick in the mud —"

Mika stems the flow of babble with a deep kiss, then declares with utmost severity, "Of course I remember our song."

And I'll be your cryin' shoulder

I'll be love's suicide

And I'll be better when I'm older

I'll be the greatest fan of your life

Kurda doesn't have to coerce Mika to dance this time. Doesn't even have to ask. Mika gets started while Kurda's still laughing at the memory. He places his left hand on Kurda's lower back and laces the fingers of his right between those of Kurda's left.

"Time has softened you, my love." Kurda teases as they sway around the kitchen in a casual semblance of a waltz. "You weren't nearly this agreeable last time. I all but had to blackmail you for a dance. You're lucky it didn't come to that, because gods knew I had enough material."

And rain falls angry on the tin roof

As we lie awake in my bed

And you're my survival, you're my livin' proof

My love is alive and not dead

"In my defence, you had no business expecting anything else from me." Mika points out. "Not back then, anyway." His hand slides lower on Kurda's hip. Kurda encourages it by swaying closer.

"You were a very good sport that night, all things considered." Kurda insists. It's true.

"Whatever. I still can't dance, so adjust your expectations accordingly. All that's changed between then and now is that I like you." Mika remarks, raising an eyebrow as he looks Kurda up and down. He's long since evolved past biting back smiles when it's just them, and Kurda loves him for that. Among a million other things.

Kurda corrects him with due sass, "You liked me then."

Mika rolls his eyes and sneaks a playful kiss. "Fine. All that's changed is I'm no longer in denial."

"That's better."

And tell me that we belong together

And dress it up with the trappings of love

I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips

Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

Mika nods in agreement. There's something on his mind; Kurda can see it behind his eyes. He doesn't have to wait long.

"I almost kissed you that night in the hotel ballroom." Mika admits as if that's some earth-shattering revelation. As if they haven't had enough of those to last a lifetime.

"I know." Kurda replies, taking great care not to put a smug spin on those two syllables. There's a time and place to revel in one's innate correctness. It's not in this kitchen while their song is on.

Mika cringes unnecessarily. "Was it that obvious?"

Kurda gives that some thought, then answers: "At the time, no. In hindsight, very. You weren't the only one in denial."

And I'll be your cryin' shoulder

I'll be love's suicide

And I'll be better when I'm older

I'll be the greatest fan of your life

"I hate dancing. Always have. I was so relieved when you gave up on me." Mika recounts as he lowers Kurda into an effortless dip and back up for another comfortable kiss. "But then you picked up Gracie when she got tired… this song was playing. You were trying to rock her to sleep. I remember it so clearly. And suddenly… I felt like I was missing out."

"That was the moment you swallowed your pride and danced with us — of your own volition. And I thought to myself, finally." Kurda sighs in fond reminiscence as he brings his forehead on Mika's sternum.

Any semblance of correct form has lapsed by the time they reach the final verse. Kurda loops his arms around the back of Mika's neck while both Mika's hands rest on Kurda's hips. They sway chest to chest, forehead to forehead as the sun rises behind them. The song is almost over. Even though they'll lay down to sleep side-by-side right after this, Kurda still doesn't want to let go. In moments like this he finds himself wondering, will close ever feel close enough to make up for the past? He hates himself for thinking of that now. His mind has no business still going there.

And I dropped out, I burned up

I fought my way back from the dead

Tuned in and turned on

Remembered the thing that you, you said

Not for the first time, Mika seems to hear the words Kurda leaves unsaid. He slides his hands down further than ever, helping himself to a gratuitous handful of ass as he pulls Kurda's hips into his while blazing a trail of rough, stubbly kisses down Kurda's neck. Kurda's barely stifling a soft gasp of lust when Mika murmurs into his ear, "Am I allowed to say I like dancing much better without Gracie between us?"

Kurda smirks back in the way he knows Mika's particularly weak for. "I'll allow it. I happen to like dancing much better when you actually kiss me."

Done deal. The song concludes as magnificently as it began. Mika sweeps Kurda up off his feet and kisses him with the blazing ferocity of — Kurda can't be bothered to come up with any more poignant symbolism. He'll simply call it what it is. What it is is hot.

And I'll be your cryin' shoulder

I'll be love's suicide

And I'll be better when I'm older

I'll be the greatest fan of your

To his very core Kurda meant what he said to Mika in the Hall of Princes, the night of his investiture while the rest of the clan drank to his restored name in the halls below:

"Even knowing all that, I wouldn't have done anything differently. And I'd do it all again. If that's what it takes to end up back here, so be it."

Kurda thinks about that for a moment. He thinks about repeating the sentiment here and now. It seems relevant, but redundant at the same time. Mika knows. Kurda can hear it in his voice and feel it in his touch.

Then Mika carries him to bed to finish what's been started, and Kurda ceases thinking of anything at all.

I'll be your cryin' shoulder

I'll be love's suicide

And I'll be better when I'm older

I'll be the greatest fan of your life

The greatest fan of your life…


I have no real plan for this little collection of moments spent at their cozy cabin by the sea. I don't usually say this ever but I'm not NOT open to suggestions for future drabbles. I have a lot of *concepts* of a plan but I also have debilitating choice paralysis so if there's a certain conversation or activity that you'd like to be a fly on their cabin wall for, lay it on me. I can't promise anything but I'm open-minded.

Hey, thanks for being here with me & them.

- roxy