#BRO IS NEVER BEATING THE ROSE SIBLING AGENDA

[jinikaris]

FELIX | 5TH FANMEETING ── ⋆˙⟡ 𝗦𝗞𝗭 𝟱'𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗞 ✧˖° TEASER IMAGE

[dramaqueeenamby]

Kings’ Trip (7)

T’Challa | M’Baku | Redeemed Erik

Part 7/11: Fevers and Temptations

Words: 2.5K 

Warning: Profanity

CHAPTERS: @sisterwifeudaku  (1), @blackandfair (2), @royallyprincesslilly (3), @eerythingisshaka  (4), @katasstrophey  (5), @blublubleu  (6), 

A/N: This is my contribution to the wonderful collaboration fics started by the amazing @royallyprincesslilly  I am so grateful and honored to be apart of this collab effort and hope that I did it justice because the rest of these talented ladies have absolutely slayed so far! :D

7: Fevers and Temptations

“Okay, which one of ya’ll niggas finished off the orange juice and put it back in the fridge, empty?” Erik held the item in question high up in the air, his other hand tightly squeezing the door of the LG refrigerator with a mixture of disappointment and irritation.

M’Baku looked up from his nonchalant position on the sofa and shrugged. “I left some for you, short and angry one.”

Erik clenched his jaw and slammed the door, the sound of the suctioning material contracting letting him know that it was sealed. “M’Dumbass,” he took the carton and tilted it over the sink so that roughly two ounces of product slid down the drain. “What the hell was I supposed to do with this small amount of drink?”

Again, M’Baku seemed unbothered by the prince’s vexation. “I assumed that it was an appropriate amount of sustenance for someone of your stature.”

Erik threw the empty bottle in the trash. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” He was already on edge from not sleeping too well the night before and was therefore not in the mood to argue with the Great Gorilla. However, if it came to it, Erik was always prepared to throw them hands.

“Eh, eh, eh,” T’Challa came out of his bedroom with Nakia at his side. “What is all the noise?”

“Bro, why is she always here?” Erik lifted his hands in the air with exasperation. “I go to sleep, she’s here. I wake up, she’s here. What the hell I gotta do to not have to see her face?”

“Die,” M’Baku responded calmly, causing T’Challa and Erik to both look at him. “What? He asked. I answered.”

“I’m going to head out,” Nakia announced while shaking her head and turning to the king. “I shall talk to you later.”

“Of course,” T’Challa responded and went to kiss her when she hurried to place one on his cheek. He frowned slightly as she offered a weak smile and made her way out the door.

“Correct me if I am mistaken, but I believe that you have just been, how to the colonizers say it?”

“Rejected!” Erik shouted, covering his mouth with his hand to allow his voice to project.

T’Challa ignored him and decided not to look too much into it. He was in a good mood after having sat down and made amends with Shuri, apologizing for how he allowed his emotions to get the most of him. His chat with the woman from the bar certainly helped provide clarity and lucidity concerning his conflicting feelings regarding the outpour of secrets that seemed to continue to stem from his father’s growing list of transgressions.

However, while peace existed between the two full Udaku siblings, the king was still slightly troubled but chose to hide his woes for the sake of not wanting to attract too much negative attention to himself.

“What is on the agenda for today?”

T’Challa asked as he noticed Erik had hopped on the sofa with M’Baku, the two carrying controllers in their hands.

“We finna get into this MK, boy.” Erik supplied, grinning cockily. “Ole’ Green Mile over here think he ready for Rainbow Road.”

“Such a rudimentary titled course is clearly no match for a warrior such as myself.” M’Baku loudly proclaimed with his chin raised in the air.

Erik sucked his teeth. “Yeah, whatever. You game, cuz?”

T’Challa started to tell him no but decided to amuse the both of them by partaking in their frivolous activity.

“Why not,” he shrugged, making his way over to the sofa set. “Harmless fun never hurt anyone, eh?”

---

“FOR THE LOVE OF BAST, WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO SWERVE OFF THE TRACK, YOU INEPT SIMULATION?”

“THIS GAME IS CURSED, I TELL YOU! CURSED! NOT EVEN THE GREAT HANUMAN HIMSELF COULD COMPLETE IT!”

Erik was having a field day watching the other two men grow frustrated and livid with their failure to successfully make their way through the course.

“You should see ya’ll faces right now,” he laughed, walking back in the living room, one arm filled with snacks, another with a wine cooler. “Looking like fake ass Timon and Pumba’s.” He’d given up on the course a while ago but the other two were determined to prove that no American game could get the best of them.

The “battle” between the Wakandans and the game went on for another two hours before all three men decided that they were ready to eat. Erik suggested that they try this little Chinese takeout place around the corner, T’Challa being delegated as the one to pick up the food. 

“What kind of establishment does not deliver?” T’Challa spoke to himself as he got out his rental after parking it in a lot across the street. “The food better be….” He trailed off as a slow, melodic beat hit his ears. “-good.” The king found his eyes falling onto the entrance to a place called “The Majestic.” Though no one stood outside, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that it was because everyone was already inside enjoying the music that he felt called to him.

Before he realized what was happening, T’Challa’s legs carried him across the way and into the establishment. Of course, he was stopped by the bouncer who served as a barrier between him and finding the source of the sweet sounds, but when he threw three hundred dollar bills the man’s way, he was easily granted access.

T’Challa instantly found himself met with the reason for his even being there.

On stage, a woman, with a complexion rich in melanin and touched with hues of gold as if blessed by Bast herself, eyes as deep and warm as the humid heat that occupied the summers of his country, belted out the song that called to him. Her body, curvaceous and filling, her chest pushing boldly against the corset of the bedazzled fiery dress that also allowed a glimpse of her smooth brown legs. Long onyx hair cascaded down her back in wavy tresses, covering half her face, only granting him a portion of her painted red lips that continuously flexed due to the soulful notes that emitted from her mouth.

Ooh

You give me fever

Fever in the morning

Fever when it's late at night

Her raspy voice captivated him, sending unfamiliar chills throughout his body as he noticed an empty spot by the bar and plopped himself down, never taking his eyes off her.

You give me fever

Fever

Fever when you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

She worked her way across the stage, sending suggestive and seductive looks and smiles to various members in the crowd while still managing to keep up with the live band.

Fever in the evening

Fever all through the night

You give me fever, yeah

T’Challa was mesmerized as she descended down the stage, helped by one of the musicians who held her hand before she hit the ground. The king marveled at how she interacted with certain attendees, sending occasional winks to male patrons who seemed absolutely flustered by her gestures.

He was so captivated that when she came to him, reaching out and running her hand down his face with a sly smile, all he could do was numbly stare, only breaking from his trance as she walked away from him and back on stage.

T’Challa shook his head when thunderous applause filled the room, signaling the end of her song. He caught the end of the accolades, clapping strongly as she took a bow and blew a kiss before disappearing from his sight.

The king was beyond the realms of interested, not necessarily because of attraction but a rather innocent intrigue. Also, the woman possessed a phenomenal voice;  he felt the duty to inform her of such.

And so, he waited for her to come out into the crowd after overhearing that that was her last performance for the night.

He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting at the bar, consistently ignoring attempts at conversations from women when he spotted her. She was making her way out. He promptly rose from his seat and maneuvered his way through mostly inebriated individuals, never taking his eyes off her.

“See you tomorrow, Rob.” She laughed, a wide smile on her slightly round face.

“Excuse me-” T’Challa froze when she spun around and slammed her forearm into his own which was reaching out to tap her back.

“I don’t know what you want, but I can assure you that I’m not interested.” He was slightly surprised by her voice; it was soft, the epitome of femininity, a complete contrast to how she sang.

In order to ease her apparent discomfort, he raised his arms to signal docility.“I apologize if I scared you-”

She scowled. “Do I look scared?”

“No.” He observed, her face hardened with determination. “I simply wished to tell you that you have a beautiful voice.”

She rolled her eyes. “And a fat ass, right?”

He was appalled. “I would never speak in such a way to or about a woman.”

She lifted one brow, a small smile breaking her poker face before pulling her arm back. He watched her eye him from head to toe. “What’s your name?”

He did not hesitate to reply. “T’Challa.”

“Figures.” She chuckled. “You’re not from around here, are you?.”

“Something like that,” he echoed her chuckle, noticing her slowly starting to ease her way into comfort. “And yours?”

“Max,” she replied but noticed the strange gleam in his eyes. “It’s Maxine, but if you call me that, I will punch you in that pretty face of yours.”

“Understood.” He smiled softly. “Max.”

Max shifted her weight on her right foot and crossed her arms over her chest. “You busy?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

She chuckled and turned around. “Come on.”

T’Challa froze, apprehension overcoming the great warrior. “Where?”

Max twisted her body, walking backward, smiling wryly. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” A beat. “Unless you want me to.”

T’Challa was thoroughly confused.

Why on earth would he want her to bite him? How animalistic.

---

“So you have no intentions of becoming a singer?”

Max laughed loudly as she walked the beach with the kind and, though she’d never admit it, handsome stranger. “Not at all. I like to sing, but my heart isn’t in it. It just helps to pay the bills.” She explained with a small sigh. “And I certainly have plenty of those.”

He said nothing but made a mental note to find a way to help her out. Monetarily speaking.

“What are you studying?”

“Social Work,” she responded, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m tired of seeing so many kids lost in the system, being shipped around from one dysfunctional home to another. It’s detrimental to a person’s mental health.”

He nodded, listening to her talk, picking up on the sense of sadness that imbued her countenance before she brushed it away.

“Make a difference, ya know?” She looked over at him. “What about you? What do you do for a living? Something illustrious judging by the expensive threads you’re rocking.” She teasingly bumped into him, T’Challa cracking a small smile.

He paused. A part of him wanted to tell her the truth, but he also liked the flow of their conversation, how she treated him so….normally. It was a nice diversion from how people typically acted when they learned that they were in the company of a king.

“I….work in management.” He decided on that vague answer, hoping that it would satisfy her.

“Oh. Of what?”

He stilled with apprehension. Of course, she wanted to know more. She was very perceptive.

A rap song about paramedics that he recalled Erik listening to sounded from her bag as she stopped walking, swinging the backpack around to grab her phone. “Excuse me.” She pulled it to her ear. “What’s up?” Max gave the king a strange look as he lifted his head to the sky as if searching for something. “No. I’m out with….a friend.” He returned his gaze to her. “Just order a pizza...use the money in the jar. I’ll be home soon enough….aight’.” Max hung up the phone, placing it back in the bag. “Sorry. My sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Pretty sure that’s what I just said.” Max blew out a small breath as she spoke, continuing to walk after fixing her tote.

“I apologize,” T’Challa had no idea why he was behaving so strangely around this small woman with a bold personality. He was a warrior for Bast sake. “I too have a sister...and a brother.” He added quietly.

Max noticed the strange way he said, brother. “Estranged?”

“You could say that.” He commented. “I...just discovered his existence.”

Max made an ‘O’ with her mouth. “One of those.” She momentarily tilted her head and went to push her hair behind her shoulder. “Papa was a rolling stone type shit?” He regarded her with confusion. “You know….like the song?” His expression remained unchanged. “The Temptations?”

“As in pleasures of the flesh?” He suggested with hopeful eyes.

Max fell out in laughter, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes. “Seriously? Where did you say you were from again?”

“Africa.” He responded accordingly, failing to see the humor in his guess.

“And you mean to tell me that they don’t listen to The Temptations in the homeland?”  

“It is a musical group then, yes?”

Maxine just continued to grin, halting in her steps as she swung her bag around and forced it against his chest. “Hold this.” She started to dig through it before pulling out her phone and a set of large, white headphones that held a ‘B’ on the ear part. He watched her press a few buttons before leaning up and placing them over his ears. “Just listen.” He read her lips as she hit something on her phone before the music started to play.

He wasn’t even a full minute in when Max saw him snapping and slowly swaying. “This is wonderful! Who are they again? Do you have other artists similar to these tempts?”

She laughed softly as the two continued to walk.

“If you like them, wait until you hear The Supremes.”

---

Meanwhile…..

“I swear, this bobblehead looking ass nigga had one damn job.”

Erik was going to kill his cousin for turning off his kimoyo beads after going MIA on them.

“No. His name is T’Challa.” M’Baku attempted to explain to the restaurant worker, holding his arm out, stretching his hand. “About this tall, rather skinny in width, similar to him.” He gestured over to Erik.

“Keep it up, Jabari the Big Red Dog.” The prince hissed before pulling up a picture of his cousin, flashing the phone in front of the employee who spoke very little English. “This is him. Have you seen him or not? Cause his car is right outside.”

“Ohhhhhh,” the Asian commented with a friendly smile. “Yes. Him. Of course.”

M’Baku’s face lit up. “So you’ve seen him?”

“Yes!” She answered happily, pulling out her own phone and tapping a few things before showing it to him. “Great actor!”

“No! That’s not him!” A beat. “The fuck? That’s Chadwick Boseman!”

M’Baku narrowed his eyes at the picture on the screen.

“They do share an uncanny resemblance.”

“Man, shut up, Tiny Lister!”

----

Collab Authors: @muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @airis-paris14  @thewriterinflannel @mbakusthrone

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