Drabbles M'Baku/T'Challa

Respect. Everything is about respect. Subordination does not come naturally to those who are chosen to lead either by birth or by selection. And so when two rival kings look to one another for affection, there comes a certain difficulty in one lying beneath the other.   
 
Respect. Everything comes down to respect.   
 
For his part, T'Challa had never felt anything less towards M'Baku. They were not enemies, the enmity between them was not born of personal dislike, but political divergence in how Wakanda should be ruled and it's place in an ever shrinking world. There times when T'Challa could see the value of the man's way of thinking. Wakanda had to be protected. It's people, it's culture, it's history was always threatened by outside forces. Yet the time was fast approaching where the isolationist tactic would not longer work. How to balance? How to thrive? How to protect his people without severing these tenuous new connections to the world at large? 

But these were the worries of a king. In this moment alone, T'Challa wanted to breath deeply and release these tensions until tomorrow. M'Baku was looking at him, the man's deep brow holding the same strains and concerns as he did. The king slid deeper into the pool and approached him, arms wide as a display of welcome. “I am glad you consented to meet me here.”

“It seemed best. No weapons, no guards. After all that has passed I find myself trusting you more and more.” He smiled in a wry fashion, his eyes searching for reciprocation. “I found myself admiring your form in battle, as well as your use of the armor.”

“You can thank my sister for that. Her knowledge of the suit has proven invaluable, and her research continues to astound anyone who does not know how much time she has spent devoting herself to it's study.” 

“It is a true king who knows how to properly display humility before the brilliance of others.” M'Baku chuckled. “But then neither of us is particularly good at humility.”   

“Speak for yourself. I am the most humble man I know.” They laughed together as the waves lapped at their bodies, a heron crying out as it took off from the rushes.   
 
M'Baku looked out over the city, a deep sigh heaving in his chest. “Wakanda is a beautiful land.”

“It is your homeland, M'Baku. You and your people are a part of it.”

“A fact we have never forgotten.” He moved in closer, eyes traveling the kings frame in the limpid waters. “You are Wakanda, T'Challa.”

“A fact I would rather die than forget. But can a country be a man, if only for a little while?”

“If he wishes, I see no reason why not. Your father was often the same way. T'Chaka found ways to balance the rigors of kingship with the duties of a father and husband. You and your sister are proof of this. I have never wished ill on you or your family. I hope that has always been understood between us.”   
 
“If it was not before, it is now. And your children are thriving well as I understand it.” 

“Thriving, eating, training, driving their mother mad. I love each of them.” M'Baku laughed broadly, the barrel of it coming from deep in his chest. “And what of you. Is there no woman in all of Wakanda who has captured your heart? No future heir to the throne and the mantle planned?”   
 
“There was...one. But things are somewhat strained there.”

“Intimidated by the prospect of being wooed by a king no doubt.”

“I doubt it very much. Nakia is not one to be intimidated, least of all by me.”   
 
“So...” M'Baku moved closer. “There is nothing sincere and intimate? No one who you may rely on to sooth your troubled brow after the long days of politics? That is a pity, T'Challa. I know how politics always frustrated you.”   
 
Something stirred within him, and T'Challa moved his hand under the water, offering the man the briefest touch of the fingers, an invitation if he wished it to be, or merely an accidental touch if nothing was desired. “Politics is an endless display of posturing and subterfuge. I have always been a man to deal with things directly.”

“Which can not always be managed. You must learn subtlety, your highness.”   
 
“Yes, because you have always been so very subtle, M'Baku. The most deft of all skilled leaders.” 

 “Now you are bordering on mockery when I stood here and offered you a compliment. Tsk tsk, your majesty.” He teased, but pushed his fingers into T'Challa's hands beneath the surface. 

“See? I fail at diplomacy. However shall I make amends?” He moved in closer, the two of them circling one another. The tension was palpable between them, a sense of want that both waited to see if the other would push through first. 

“We have not always been on good terms, your highness. But I would not have it said that I held anything but the highest esteem for you and yours.” M'Baku licked his lips, sinking down in the waters just a little as the pool grew deeper. 

“I would have it understood that your strength and prowess turned the tide of battle, and ensured the defenses of Wakanda. No one could doubt your loyalty to your home.” He paused at saying 'your king'. He felt sure it would seem presumptuous and bordering on insulting. The Jabari tried had not renewed any vows of loyalty to the throne of Wakanda, though their loyalty to the land itself had never wavered.   
 
“I am glad that is understood.” They were mere inches apart now, arms moving to stay afloat, bringing themselves closer together. “Your highness...”

“Will you call me T'Challa while we are here? As a favor.”

M'Baku smiled and their fingers intertwined as he pulled the younger man close into him. “T'Challa, with your permission.”

“Consider it given.”