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When MBJ sees SQH again, it's been over a year.
He's just arrived from the battle sight to their camp, the other territory's white flag in hand. The cheers and congratulations of victory fall on his deaf ears though.
All he can think about is the young man he'd sent away /not/ because of his skills in infiltration like he'd initially claimed, but because his mere presence made MBJ think, talk, and act differently. It scared him. More than he cared to admit.
But now that things are over, and the period of peace can begin, he finds himself regretting sending SQH away and for so long. Though SQH never got caught, his lack of correspondence before the final battle is a little concerning.
When he enters his tent, it's dark and cool. He shrugs off his armor and puts away his weapon. Though he should feel light as air, he feels like his entire army's chainmail sits upon him. He sits on his cot with a heavy sigh. "And here I thought a celebration was in order."
MBJ jumps from the sudden voice at his ear. Before he can think of which arm to subdue the intruder, he's pulled backward and something lands on his lower hips. He groans from the sudden movement and pressure.
"You know," SQH begins, grounding his hips down into MBJ's, ignoring MBJ's warning hiss, "I've learned something since you gave me my mission."
"If you do not get off–"
"Like for one, your threats are...lackluster." SQH smirks down at MBJ's glaring face.
"Two," SQH leans down and into MBJ's personal space, "Dying without knowing how your lips taste would be a pity."
MBJ's eyes widen as SQH's pillowy soft lips brush against his. Despite SQH's confident words, the kiss is tentative and shy. And everything MBJ secretly desired.