Title: his heart's own north
Fandom: Guardian
Pairing: Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei
Words: ~2,700
Content notes: brief unwelcome physical contact with a stranger; Zhao Yunlan's commitment to his inner Sam Spade, Shen Wei's creepy stalking, Zhao Yunlan's poor boundaries, public displays of affection, intense feelings about feelings
Timing notes: Takes place between episodes 2 and 3.

Author's note: This is the 2,700 word intro to what was supposed to be a PWP. *sigh* There's a decent stopping point and I'm taking it -- I just don't think I'll have time to write and edit another 4,000 words before the end of this round -- but I am (for once) actually writing Part 2.



Summary: It’s not the first time Zhao Yunlan’s run into someone he’d slept with and failed to recognize them. The speculative looks and the lingering touches, those were familiar. And it made sense of that nagging feeling he had, that he’d met Shen Wei before.


Zhao Yunlan pushes through the outer doors of The Heavens and blinks for a moment while his eyes adjust to the shadows of the tiny waiting room. The streets of Dragon City may be only dimly lit at night, but they’re bright as day compared to its dens of iniquity.

“Lao Zhao!” The bouncer at the inner door breaks into a broad grin and steps forward to shake his hand warmly. “Welcome back!”

Zhao Yunlan’s answering smile is automatic, as he wracks his brain for this man’s name. Nothing comes up. “Ah, none of that!” he says instead. “Haven’t I told you, friends shouldn’t be so formal?”

The other man laughs like the joke is actually funny. “Sorry, I forget!”

He takes the bribe Zhao Yunlan passes over with aplomb, and unlocks the heavy inner door. It swings open with a rush of noise and the familiar scent of spilled alcohol.

Zhao Yunlan waves a friendly goodbye to the bouncer and saunters further into the club.

He can feel eyes follow him as he heads to the bar, but he ignores them. The Heavens is the most high-class sex club in Dragon City that’ll let someone like him darken their door; his ripped jeans and brown leather jacket stand out like a sore thumb in this room of business suits and slinky dresses. It attracts a particular sort of attention, but he’s not here tonight to play the gangster in someone else’s sex fantasy.

He gets a beer from the bartender and turns around to lean against the bar. He scans the room, careful not to hold eye contact with anyone long enough to make it an invitation. He’s just trying to jog his memory.

The Heavens is also the fanciest sex club Zhao Yunlan frequents -- though ‘frequents’ is the wrong word for this one; the crowd it attracts is a little too predictable for his taste. But it’s the only one he could even imagine Professor Shen walking into. So it has to be here, or nowhere.

Shen Wei. There’s a nice thought, and Zhao Yunlan has to turn his head before someone thinks he’s happy at them. The way the professor had smiled and dropped his eyes when they first met. The way he held Zhao Yunlan’s hand too long, as if he’d forgotten that he was supposed to let go.

It’s not the first time Zhao Yunlan’s run into someone he’d slept with and failed to recognize them. His hookups are supposed to be anonymous and forgettable; that’s why he comes to clubs like this in the first place. He’s never dated and never wanted to, but he’d never want to give someone the wrong impression, either.

The speculative looks and the lingering touches, those were familiar. And it made sense of that nagging feeling he had, that he’d met Shen Wei before.

But Zhao Yunlan had given him a dozen chances to drop a hint, make an insinuation, anything to make their history clear. None of which had worked. Oh, it was apparent that Shen Wei wanted Zhao Yunlan’s attention -- mentioning Dixingren to the Chief of the SID without prompting was practically waving a red flag at an angry bull -- but after that first instant, there was no hint about why.

It had to be here. But even standing here now, with every possible sensory clue to bring the memory back… nothing comes to mind. Oh, he can imagine Shen Wei here -- sitting at a booth in one of those fancy suits of his, a drink in his hand and one solitary button undone as a tease -- but it’s definitely Zhao Yunlan’s perverted imagination and not a memory.

It doesn’t matter either way, really. He has rules: he doesn’t take them out, he doesn’t take them home, and he doesn’t go twice with the same person, no matter how pretty they are.

But if it wasn’t here, then where? Zhao Yunlan turns the thought over again in his head, worrying at the puzzle of it and trying to see if he’s shaken anything loose by coming here. It would be nice to remember, but it looks like a question he won’t answer tonight.

Zhao Yunlan knocks back the rest of his beer, and shakes his head when the bartender offers another. He slides a generous tip across the bar -- there’s no point in being unfriendly -- and turns to leave.

He makes it as far as the end of the bar before a hand catches at his arm.

“You can’t leave yet! You just got here.”

“I can’t?”

The hand is attached to a skinny young man with bright eyes and a bold smile. He mistakes Zhao Yunlan’s answering grin for encouragement, and draws his fingers slowly down Zhao Yunlan’s sleeve.

He doesn’t look drunk, just entitled, and Zhao Yunlan spares a thought for this man’s unfortunate family and the embarrassment he must bring to them constantly.

He lets his grin broaden and steps closer, tucking his head as if to whisper in the other man’s ear. It’s far too loud in here for that, but it will let them pretend it’s a private comment.

“But I don’t see anything I want,” he says, and waits for the insult to sink in.

The other man’s face reddens and his fist clenches, but he’s smarter than he looks and doesn’t take a swing. Or try to grab again.

So Zhao Yunlan claps the other man on the back as if they’d shared a joke, and walks away whistling. Some people just need to have their noses rubbed in it to realize they’ve been rude, some people never learn; either way, this guy is not his problem.

As he pushes through the door into the entry room, he can hear the bouncer speaking quietly but firmly with someone. Zhao Yunlan looks up --

-- to see Shen Wei in the waiting room, impatiently arguing with the bouncer whose name Zhao Yunlan still can’t recall. He takes in the scene in an instant: Shen Wei’s slate trench coat and blue pin-striped suit, the tension in his hands, the helplessness in the bouncer’s expression --

-- The bouncer wants to let this well-dressed man in, but doesn’t know him, and Shen Wei doesn’t know enough to pay the bribe or even just flutter those pretty eyes at the man. So both of them are trapped and oh-so-politely at odds --

-- because Shen Wei has never been here before, has never been to a sex club at all --

And it feels good to have an answer to that question, to be certain of it, even if it doesn’t help Zhao Yunlan with his larger puzzle in the least.

He only has that instant to read the room before the noise from the bar behind him drags Shen Wei’s eyes to his. Zhao Yunlan is expecting surprise, maybe confusion -- and he gets that, after a heartbeat. The step back, gaze drop, stammer routine that he’s come to associate with a mildly flustered Professor Shen.

It’s just that the moment before that, the first look, when Shen Wei wasn’t expecting to see him --

“Ah, there you are! I was starting to think you’d stood me up!” Zhao Yunlan gestures apologetically at the bouncer. “I wasn’t sure he’d make it, or I would’ve told you.”

“Oh!” The bouncer, relieved of his concerns, takes the second bribe as Zhao Yunlan passes it to him, and turns gladly back to Shen Wei. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve recognized you!”

Shen Wei murmurs something unintelligible as a flush climbs up his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up from the floor.

“Sadly, I have to leave -- something came up.” Zhao Yunlan throws an arm around Shen Wei’s shoulders and turns them both toward the door before the other man can figure out what he’s doing. “But you’ll walk me out, won’t you?”

If he had to guess, Zhao Yunlan would say that Shen Wei is more than happy to be leaving this place. Certainly, he lets himself be steered back outside without complaint, though he seems a little stiff at the overly-familiar way Zhao Yunlan is manhandling him.

Once the door closes behind them, and they’re safely on the sidewalk outside, Shen Wei starts to pull himself together.

“Chief Zhao,” he says, softly and still a bit befuddled, but Zhao Yunlan interrupts him.

“None of that -- we can’t be formal here.” He has an excuse -- they’re standing in front of a notorious sex club, on a public sidewalk with people passing by; but Shen Wei doesn’t ask, either.

They walk a little further down the street, Zhao Yunlan taking shameless advantage of Shen Wei’s obvious confusion to drape himself a little closer. It’s a beautiful night, with a soft moon hanging overhead, and Zhao Yunlan’s heart is singing a song he’s never heard before.

Shen Wei finally pulls away from him in the shadow of an alley.

“Zhao Yunlan.” This time his voice is firm, so Zhao Yunlan drifts a few steps into the alley and away from the crowds.

He fully intends for this conversation to be the kind of entertaining that’s better with a little privacy. “Go on.”

Shen Wei tips his head up, not down, and his face settles into determined lines as his entire body stills. “I think you may have the wrong impression.”

“I suppose I might.” He waves a hand broadly: go on. Shen Wei doesn’t even twitch. “So tell me what the right one is.”

“I stopped to ask directions --“

“Directions?” That drags a laugh out of him, it’s such a blatant untruth, but Shen Wei merely looks aggrieved.

“I don’t expect you to believe me.”

“Oh, no, truly I believe you,” Zhao Yunlan says, still laughing. “Because it makes no sense at all for you to have been following me.”

Shen Wei frowns, the picture of injured innocence. “I don’t see how I can convince you.”

He is so good at this, Zhao Yunlan can’t help thinking gleefully. Some people lie constantly, habitually; some people lie badly. Shen Wei does neither, despite his insistence on impossible excuses, but his very firmness makes you doubt your own mind. Still, his lies trace a line around a truth he wants to conceal.

“Answer me one question. Just one.” Zhao Yunlan holds his grin carefully, keeps his hands loose and easy at his sides, waiting for Shen Wei’s cautious, doubtful nod --

-- before stalking forward, step by step. Shen Wei gives ground, backing away until Zhao Yunlan has him crowded up against the wall of the alley. Not touching, not yet, but Zhao Yunlan can hear the rigid evenness of Shen Wei’s breathing and knows how hard the other man is fighting to stay hidden. His face has gone unreadable, but that’s fine, because that won’t last. Zhao Yunlan puts his hands on the wall on either side of Shen Wei’s shoulders --

“Are you coming home with me tonight?” He doesn’t lean in that last inch, no matter how much he wants to, because more than that, he wants to see. “Or should I go back to the club?”

It’s a bluff. He has no intention of walking back into that club -- he doubts if he’ll ever darken their door again -- but Shen Wei doesn’t know that, doesn’t know that he wasn’t cruising for any warm body to scratch his itch. It’s the only leverage he has right now, and Zhao Yunlan is willing to gamble on his moment --

-- because Shen Wei met his eyes in the club, and before Shen Wei had been able to cover his reaction, he wasn’t surprised to see Zhao Yunlan. No, that first look was recognition, relief --

-- and a hunger so fierce it took Zhao Yunlan’s breath away. It was nothing he’d expected from the oh-so-polite professor --

-- but more than that, Zhao Yunlan felt everything inside of him yearning toward that hunger, wanting to answer it, feed it, own it --

-- So this is what it feels like. Zhao Yunlan had seen love from the outside, seen what it did to people and what it made them do. But he’d never felt it before, not even a shadow of it until this moment, when the iron of his internal compass re-aligned to point unerringly toward his heart’s own north --

-- before Shen Wei had dropped his eyes, hidden himself again like a cloud passing over the sun, and Zhao Yunlan’s entire soul rebelled. He wanted it back, that sense of destiny; he wanted Shen Wei back, and he didn’t care what underhanded tricks he might have to use to get that.

So he watches as Shen Wei turns his face to the side, hands clenching and his breath going shaky as he fights -- propriety? his own habits? -- Zhao Yunlan doubts if the good professor regularly picks up men in clubs or anywhere else, and certainly not low-life thugs like him. Fair enough; it’ll be a new thing for both of them, then.

The long pale line of Shen Wei’s neck gleams in the light of the moon, and Zhao Yunlan wants to bite him right there, find out what kind of noise he’d make, but he needs to see --

-- Shen Wei’s face when he turns slowly back, pupils blown dark and wanting, hiding nothing. And there it is, that fierce hunger and a dangerous determination --

“Where’s your car?” Shen Wei’s voice is low but not hesitant, no hint of indecision left in it.

-- that once he commits to a course of action, he will not fail to see it through.

Zhao Yunlan wants to laugh at the wave of giddiness that sweeps through him. Now that he has permission to touch, he wants to do everything -- but not in an alley, and if he puts his mouth on this man right now he won't stop.

“Cab,” he says abruptly, forcing himself to take a step back. “I didn't expect to be in any condition to drive.”

Shen Wei does nothing to hide the knife-thrust of emotion that moves across his face -- jealousy, Zhao Yunlan thinks, and someday he’s gonna poke that response with a stick and see how hot he can make the fire burn. But not, he thinks, their first time, not this time, not with his heart singing so loudly.

It isn’t until they’re actually in the cab that the rush of giddy victory recedes enough for Zhao Yunlan to remember that taking Shen Wei back to his place means exactly that: ending up at his place. Which is a pig sty, and it’s very unlikely that someone as consistently well-mannered as Shen Wei will appreciate Zhao Yunlan’s lazy bachelor lifestyle.

On top of that, he has no idea if Da Qing is there tonight; the cat comes and goes as he pleases. Which has never bothered either of them, because Zhao Yunlan doesn’t bring anyone home with him.

He glances nervously over at Shen Wei at the far edge of the seat, hands folded primly over his crossed knees. Zhao Yunlan finds himself caught by the way the lights of the city flare and fade across the other man’s face.

Shen Wei turns his head as if he can feel Zhao Yunlan’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t say anything. He just looks back, placid as deep water Zhao Yunlan thinks he could drown in. After a moment, Shen Wei’s lips quirk up in half a smile, and he turns back to the window.

-- He’ll leave the lights off. He’ll push everything over the far side of the bed when Shen Wei’s distracted. He’ll lock Da Qing in the bathroom if the damned cat isn’t smart enough to leave on his own.

Zhao Yunlan swears he’ll make this work.