Title: Keep Coming Back
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: Teen
Length: 1000 words
Notes: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. Because of teaotter's and extrapenguin's comments here. Many thanks to trobadora for insta-beta and teaotter for giving me an extra half hour to get it finished. No Warnings.
Summary: A little snippet of a tailor AU.


The bell over the door tinkled as Zhao Yunlan pushed it open and stepped into the front room of Shen Wei’s shop. As always, the entrance and fitting room were tastefully discreet, precise, and orderly — values Zhao Yunlan had rejected long ago, but there was something comfortable about the place for all that. Something that would have kept him circling back even if he hadn’t been drawn here in the investigation of yet another violent crime.

Shen Wei appeared in the doorway to the workroom at the back, where Zhao Yunlan had only been once, when the Shadow Man attacked and Shen Wei and his young assistant incredibly managed to defend themselves with half a bolt of tweed until the SID turned up. He’d been left with a vague impression of a large room with big windows, endless deep shelves stacked with fabric and boxes of fripperies, and long counters bearing various seemingly antique sewing machines. It too had been meticulously organised.

“Good morning, how can I help—” Shen Wei stopped, blinked, and changed tack. “Chief Zhao. I trust you’ve recovered from your cold.”

Oh, right. The last time they’d seen each other, Zhao Yunlan had sneezed all over a pale length of raw silk.

But if Shen Wei had meant to hold a grudge about that, Zhao Yunlan’s jeans were proving a convenient distraction. He stared at them, not trying to disguise his disapproval.

Zhao Yunlan hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and swaggered slightly. He’d picked out these jeans on purpose — his oldest, softest, most worn pair, with rips that spread to the seams. Shen Wei was suspicious and helpful by turns, friendly and censorious, and the best way to get to the bottom of that kind of mystery was to provoke him into letting down his guard.

Not that that was the reason Zhao Yunlan had dropped by. “There was a suspicious attack in the area last night,” he said. “SID-style suspicious. Outside the clockmaker’s. Have you heard anything?”

“I’m afraid not.” Shen Wei glanced up from the jeans, his expression turning grave. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

Was that natural curiosity, or was there something else behind the question? Zhao Yunlan studied his reaction carefully while he explained the bare minimum. “No fatalities, but we have a couple of students in the hospital and these things can escalate. We’re canvassing the area. You still have my card, right?”

He said it pointedly. For all Shen Wei’s cryptic behaviour, he was a tailor, not a SID field agent, and his habit of ending up on the wrong end of a Dixing power would be giving Zhao Yunlan nightmares if he let himself dwell on it.

“Yes, of course.” Shen Wei adjusted his glasses. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I hear anything. Chief Zhao—”

Zhao Yunlan had been starting to turn away. He would have liked to stay and give Tailor Shen a few more opportunities to slip up and reveal something about himself, but he hadn’t been lying about the canvassing. He looked back. “Yeah?”

“Your jeans.” An emotion was firming up behind the tailor’s polite façade.

Zhao Yunlan turned to face him, spread his hands. “What about them?”

Shen Wei looked like their existence physically pained him. “They’re an unconscionably poor fit.”

“They’re comfortable,” countered Zhao Yunlan, with a deliberate shrug.

“They’re practically falling down.”

Shen Wei seemed to gather himself, and Zhao Yunlan waited, dying of curiosity to see where this would go. Was Shen Wei gearing up to try to sell him a fancy bespoke suit worth half Zhao Yunlan’s annual salary? Did he want to turn him into a respectable fashion plate?

“Chief Zhao.” Shen Wei stepped closer, the tape measure around his neck fluttering with the movement. His gaze was earnest and, below the doggedness, lit with a very personal spark. He lowered his voice. “The SID works hard to defend the city. As an ordinary citizen, I’d like to offer my services as a token of my appreciation. If you’d entrust them to me for just an hour—”

“Eh?” Zhao Yunlan had lost track of the conversation. Was this a sales pitch or not? “Entrust what?”

“Your jeans.” Shen Wei hooked two fingers into the waistband of the offending garment and tugged, presumably to demonstrate their terrible fit.

A flush started deep in Zhao Yunlan’s belly, rushed up and outwards. Forget the jeans — how would it feel to have Shen Wei’s precision, his capability, his care turned on him? Zhao Yunlan licked his lips, then laughed to hide his reaction. Swayed towards Shen Wei, to see what would happen. “You do denim now?”

“I’m prepared to make an exception.” Shen Wei’s voice was throaty and dark. He withdrew his hand slowly. “If you’ll permit me, of course.”

His eyes were warm, knowing, and it was too much, too fast, especially when weird things kept happening in the vicinity of this very shop. This very man. Plus, the idea of Shen Wei painstakingly repairing Zhao Yunlan’s jeans, remaking them with the intent of their enclosing Zhao Yunlan more snugly — and to do that, he’d have to put that tape measure all over him—

It was just as well the jeans were on the loose side. Zhao Yunlan stepped away, his mouth dry. He couldn’t trust Tailor Shen, not until he’d uncovered whatever secret he was keeping and why all their recent investigations kept leading back to this shop. Couldn’t trust him, no matter how much he wanted to. But he couldn’t admit that, either.

“Maybe next time,” he said, with his best smirk. “I have to—” He gestured towards the door.

The spark vanished, and Shen Wei’s walls flew back up as if they’d never fallen. “Of course, Chief Zhao. Whenever is convenient.”

It was a dismissal, and Zhao Yunlan didn’t have time to examine why right now. He turned to the door, to the real world with its Dixing monsters and brutal attacks. He could feel the weight of Shen Wei’s gaze on him as he left. Feel the possibilities still fizzing between them. Maybe sometime—

But for today, he didn’t let himself look back.



END