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fan_flashworks2021-05-02 10:37 am
china_shop) wrote in fan_flashworks2021-05-02 10:37 am
Entry tags:
Button: Guardian: fanfic: Alignment
Title: Alignment
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: Teen
Length: 4686 words
Notes: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. Episode 14, Nightmares, Apologies, Zhao Yunlan’s issues (buttons), Mild mutual pining, First kiss, Get together, Sleepiness. Much much thanks totrobadora for beta. References to childhood trauma. No other warnings.
Summary: The night after Shen Wei’s first day with the SID, Zhao Yunlan wakes from a nightmare and needs to talk to Shen Wei.
Zhao Yunlan is in the best of spirits, walking his new consultant to his door. To both their doors, really, though in an ideal world they’d be using the same one, and he can’t help hinting as much. “If you need anything, come to me anytime.”
“What would I need?” asks Shen Wei, neutral enough that the question sounds genuine. Does he really not understand what Zhao Yunlan’s suggesting?
“Come on. Today was your first day with us. I’m worried—” Zhao Yunlan bends so they’re eye to eye and grins. “—you’ll be too excited to sleep.”
Shen Wei doesn’t smile at the teasing, doesn’t answer at all. He fishes his keys out of his bag and turns to his door, stiff and unimpressed. A clear rebuff.
“Good night, sleep well,” says Zhao Yunlan, undeterred.
He lets himself into his own flat, still too pleased with himself to worry about Shen Wei’s cool demeanour or the hints of underlying anger that had surfaced throughout the day. What matters is that Shen Wei has finally joined the SID. They’re on the same team, working together. Any lingering hard feelings about Zhao Yunlan’s method of persuasion or chagrin about the Envoy’s mistakes regarding Tan Xiao and Zheng Yi will quickly pass.
Zhao Yunlan will make them pass. He’ll tease them away. And then, who knows?
He’d thought, after he realised Shen Wei’s true identity, that he must have misinterpreted the last few months of mutual flirting. Dixing’s Black-Cloaked Envoy is so other-worldly—how could he have feelings for an ordinary human? But Shen Wei promised last night that they were friends—they’ve always been friends, and Zhao Yunlan still has no idea what to make of that “always”—so now he’s sure Shen Wei cares for him, even if it’s against his better judgement. Even if something’s making him clam up and back off. Zhao Yunlan just needs to convince him it’ll be worth it to overcome whatever obstacle lies between them and get closer.
So he’s good, can’t stop humming under his breath. Da Qing is elsewhere, and Zhao Yunlan gets ready for bed. He doesn’t need alcohol tonight to keep the nightmares away. He’s a grown man, the Envoy’s colleague. Nightmares are for children. And it’s been a long couple of days, what with letting himself be kidnapped and everything. He’s asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.
*
He wakes terrified, mouth dry, heart pounding, his t-shirt soaked with sweat. The room is dark, his breath loud and harsh in the silence. He gropes on the floor for a bottle but there’s nothing there, Shen Wei threw them away weeks ago, and they were all empty by then anyway.
Zhao Yunlan closes his eyes, tries to pull himself together, but the after-images of his nightmare crowd in—
—Shen Wei, bargaining with that taut smile, “How about my status? Take me instead,” and the Dixingren who’d killed Zhao Yunlan’s mother all those years ago shouting, “Since you’ve decided to do it like this, none of us can live!” while Zhao Yunlan looked on, helpless and horrified, and his father did nothing. The Dixingren blowing himself up, taking Shen Wei with him—
Zhao Yunlan flinches. He turns on the light and opens his eyes, squinting against the glare. He forces a laugh. That’s one thing to thank Zhu Jiu for, anyway—not accepting Shen Wei’s offer. It was bad enough finding out after the fact that Da Qing had been kidnapped and hypnotised by Zheng Yi. If Zhao Yunlan had been forced to stand by while Shen Wei delivered himself into that arsehole Zhu Jiu’s hands—
He sits up and shakes off the spectres of disastrous events that didn’t happen. He doesn’t have to worry about them. It’s not like his mother. He’ll never let it be like that again, just watching, held back, unable to throw himself into the line of fire, take her place—
Like Shen Wei had tried to do. The thought strikes him like a slap, sends a shudder across his sweat-damp skin, right down his spine. He’d put Shen Wei in exactly that position.
Someone Shen Wei cares about, someone he considers his best friend had let himself be kidnapped right in front of Shen Wei’s eyes, putting Shen Wei through that hell—
Shen Wei hadn’t known about the ear plugs. He would have believed Zhao Yunlan was choking himself because he was mesmerised, must have feared Zhu Jiu would dispose of him once he was no longer useful if Shen Wei didn’t find him in time.
Zhao Yunlan knows how that would have felt—the helplessness, the horror, the consuming dread. He knows. He’s lived with it shoved deep down in his belly every day since that day. The memories have been worse and more insistent since Lu Ruomei’s murder, and with all the other cases they’ve had lately roiling his dreams. Yet when Shen Wei asked if Zhao Yunlan was pretending the whole time, Zhao Yunlan had made that stupid crack about doing it to make him reveal his identity—
No wonder Shen Wei is angry.
Of course, it doesn’t really compare. Zhao Yunlan is just Zhao Yunlan, and Shen Wei shouldn’t waste so much time and concern on him. But Zhao Yunlan is addicted to Shen Wei’s regard and his friendship, and he’ll take whatever else Shen Wei is prepared to give, too. He wants Shen Wei under the SID’s roof, in his family. In his bed—
But nudging his way into someone’s life like that and then making them stand by helplessly—
Zhao Yunlan scrubs his hands over his face and grimaces. Who’s the arsehole now, Zhao Yunlan?
The move pulls his damp t-shirt across his clammy skin, and he grimaces again for a different reason, peels the t-shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor at the end of the bed, then debates taking a shower versus just changing and trying to get more sleep.
He doesn’t think he can sleep, not with the nightmare hanging over him. Not now he’s realised how badly he screwed up. Shen Wei will forgive him eventually, probably—maybe has already started to—but Zhao Yunlan needs to see him the way he used to need a cigarette, reaching for it before he’s realised.
His front door is solid and silent, and no knock comes despite Zhao Yunlan’s earlier invitation. Is Shen Wei asleep? Is he lying in the dark, reliving that moment when Zhao Yunlan was taken? Is he nursing a grudge, beneath that impeccably polite, businesslike exterior?
Zhao Yunlan wants a drink, but he doesn’t get one. Can’t have Shen Wei finding another pile of empty bottles. He goes into the bathroom and takes a piss, then stares at himself in the bathroom mirror in the half-light from the window. He’d known he was in serious trouble when they were in the mountains, toasting their hosts, and Shen Wei had gulped down that drink for him like taking a bullet—and almost as detrimental to his health in the short term. He’d piggybacked Shen Wei to his room, and there’d been about five minutes of just letting the truth sink in—that his heart was no longer his own. Then he’d smelled the jacket, and shock and disbelief had blotted out his yearning—almost.
Now the truth is back, and there’s no avoiding it. He can see it in his own eyes. If it was only lust, he could shrug it off or find some other way to scratch that itch, but it isn’t. It’s affection and connection, deep-rooted and ineradicable regardless of whether the ground is a fertile welcoming garden or the merest concrete crack of Hei-laoge’s professional regard. Zhao Yunlan was supposed to be alone, supposed to live that way until his inevitable untimely demise. He can’t foist himself on Shen Wei with that fate, but he doesn’t know how to hold it in—all of this, his wanting, his self.
And after all, Shen Wei is the Envoy. If anyone can stave off Zhao Yunlan’s death, it’s him. And from the perspective of a ten-thousand-year-old being, humans are just mayflies, aren’t they? A year or ten or forty—what’s the difference?
Whatever lies Zhao Yunlan has to tell himself, he hardly cares. He wants to go over there right now. Imagines Shen Wei answering the door, sleep-fuddled in pyjamas, without his glasses, hair tousled. Sweet and touchable. Inviting him in—
The old crazed edges of the bathroom sink dig into his palms as he fights the impulse. It doesn’t help. On impulse he parts his hair down the middle, a symbol of how far gone he is, his future narrowed down to just this one precious possibility. What Shen Wei will think when he sees it? Will he understand?
Fine, then. He’s doing this. He goes to the bedroom to find a clean t-shirt and jeans, grabs his keys and opens his door—
Doesn’t allow himself any time to second-guess. Knocks. Belatedly registers there’s yellow light spilling out under Shen Wei’s door. Hears the scrape of chair legs on the floor, then footsteps.
The door opens, spilling light into the dark hallway. The desk lamp is on, and in its glow, Shen Wei looks as put-together as he always does—glasses, shirtsleeves, sweater vest. No sleeve garters, though. He’s carrying a textbook in one hand, a finger marking his place. A part of Zhao Yunlan unclenches at the sight of him, safe and oblivious to the phantom danger in Zhao Yunlan’s nightmare. A part wants to crowd closer.
Shen Wei seems unsurprised it’s Zhao Yunlan on his doorstep—who else would be gauche enough to knock on his door in the middle of the night?—but then he looks up and almost does a double take.
“Zhao Yunlan?” It’s an actual question, like he doesn’t trust his eyes.
“Hi, you’re awake.” Zhao Yunlan grins. He has to keep the momentum up so this won’t be awkward. “Got a minute? I was—”
“You changed your hair.” Shen Wei hasn’t moved, is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s eyebrows. And he interrupted. Shen Wei never interrupts.
He must understand what it means, then. Zhao Yunlan is basically offering himself to Shen Wei, the Black-Cloaked Envoy, with no defences, nothing to hide behind. He feels his grin start to fade and gives it a boost. “I did it just now. Not sure if it suits me, so I thought I’d run it by you for a second opinion. Like it?”
Keeping it casual, as if 2.40am is a perfectly ordinary time of night to come over. As if consulting Shen Wei on his grooming is normal for them, and his hair change is just a fashion statement whim, nothing more. Zhao Yunlan licks his lips, and Shen Wei’s gaze drops to his mouth and stays there, and Zhao Yunlan can see his own feelings, his wanting reflected, and something more—a kind of wonder. Any disapproval or residual anger from yesterday seems completely forgotten.
Zhao Yunlan curls his hands into fists to keep from reaching for him right here in the doorway. “Shen Wei,” he says, softly, not wanting to break the spell, “can I come in?”
Shen Wei blinks, steps back a little and holds the door open. “Yes, of course.”
They’re both off-balance, and Zhao Yunlan has no idea what’s going through Shen Wei’s mind. He steps inside and looks to see what’s kept Shen Wei up so late. The answer is plain: the desk is covered with papers and books, an old-fashioned brush and ink stone clearly in use. Shen Wei must be making up the university work he missed today while he was at the SID and the Department of Supervision with Zhao Yunlan.
Professor Shen isn’t a cover; he’s as real as the Envoy. And Zhao Yunlan is interrupting what little time he has to himself. Something to keep in mind for the future, but he can’t leave now. He can’t.
Shen Wei slips a bookmark into the book he’s holding and sets it on top of the desk papers, and Zhao Yunlan lets himself be ushered to the couch. Shen Wei has recovered his poise and looks like he’s on the verge of offering tea, but what he actually says is, “Why are you still up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Something I have to tell you.” Zhao Yunlan sits down, steals a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl and pops a couple into his mouth. They burst dark and juicy sweet on his tongue, better than a lollipop. He slings his arm along the back of the couch, trying to make himself comfortable, and waits while Shen Wei sits, surprised when he takes the couch next to Zhao Yunlan rather than his usual armchair. He’s not right up against Zhao Yunlan, but he’s within reach. A surge of awareness charges the air, and Zhao Yunlan almost drops his head and looks up through his lashes, tempted to flirt his way through this so he doesn’t have to risk sincerity. But that move got a bad reaction last night, and he doesn’t want to provoke Shen Wei’s displeasure right now.
Shen Wei is waiting for him to say his piece.
Zhao Yunlan tries to say it straight: I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I know what that’s like, and I shouldn’t have put you through that. But now it’s come down to it, the words stick in his throat. His gambit had been a good strategic move, and he can’t apologise for something he’d do again in a heartbeat. So he takes a moment to remember the lab, the split-second decision, and Shen Wei’s trying to negotiate with Zhu Jiu while he must have been screaming on the inside. He meets Shen Wei’s gaze head on. “I didn’t know Zhu Jiu would take me hostage. I didn’t plan it, and I really didn’t play along just to unmask you. I was joking when I said that.”
Shen Wei frowns, maybe surprised by the choice of topic, maybe unhappy to be reminded of Zhao Yunlan’s kidnapping. “Then why did you do it?”
“Where do I start?” Zhao Yunlan holds up his hand and counts off the reasons on his fingers. “Get the Hallows back, gather intel on Zhu Jiu, find his base, lay a trap if the opportunity arose, rescue the kid before he used her as a weapon again.”
He can probably come up with another hand’s worth, if he thinks about it, but any two of those would have been reason enough.
“The kid,” repeats Shen Wei. “Zheng Yi?”
Zhao Yunlan shrugs. He doesn’t have a great record defending the rights of Shen Wei’s people. He hadn’t argued when the Envoy pretended to whisk the girl off to Dixing. Maybe Shen Wei hadn’t seen how much he’d wanted to, that he’d only held back out of respect. “She was abused by her stepfather. She didn’t deserve to be Zhu Jiu’s pawn, too.”
He throws the rest of his handful of grapes into his mouth, flicks his thumbnail against his forefinger, and waits for the Envoy’s reaction. Will he tell him off for interfering in business outside his jurisdiction? For pulling too-risky stunts and making him fear for Zhao Yunlan’s life? Will his frosty anger return, and how much is it a cover for something else—more secrets, say? That always been?
“Zheng Yi is Dixingren,” says Shen Wei.
It’s a challenge if ever Zhao Yunlan’s heard one. He swallows his mouthful of grape mush. Surely Shen Wei knows that doesn’t matter anymore. “So are you.”
That must hit home, because Shen Wei’s lips part as he inhales. But his tone, when he speaks, sounds more frustrated than endeared. “And when you put yourself in Zhu Jiu’s hands, did you have a strategy in mind to extricate yourself?”
“You mean if you didn’t find me? Eh, once Zheng Yi and Tan Xiao were reunited, I would have found an opportunity to grab the Sundial and use it on Zhu Jiu. It worked when Li Qian was attacked. Anyway, the point is—” The point is I know it must have shaken you. Can he presume that much? How revealing would it be? He shies from saying it outright, skirts that part and continues, “The point is it was for good reasons. I didn’t do it just to uncover your secret.” He smirks and lowers his voice. “I didn’t need to, did I? Weren’t you just about to tell me the truth when Zhu Jiu interrupted us?”
“Yes.” Shen Wei flushes slightly, but his exasperation persists. “Perhaps.”
Zhao Yunlan inches his hand further along the back of the couch, closer. “I wanted you to tell me yourself—to want to tell me.”
Shen Wei nods, accepting this point, but apparently can’t help picking holes in Zhao Yunlan’s plan. “The Hallows aren’t predictable or safe. You could have been killed, or at the very least, corrupted with dark energy.”
“That’s the job. You know that.” Zhao Yunlan won’t downplay the risks, can’t promise he won’t endanger himself. “Anyway, I knew Hei-laoge would find me in time. We have to do what’s in front of us. Together.”
Shen Wei inhales and looks away towards the window and the night outside. His jaw moves. “I really was trying to keep you safe. Being close to me is dangerous. The person I believe to be behind Zhu Jiu, I’m his enemy.”
Even distracted by Shen Wei’s proximity and this unaccustomed candour, the odd phrasing snags Zhao Yunlan’s attention. “Is he not yours?”
Shen Wei sends him a quick, startled look.
“Your enemy,” says Zhao Yunlan. “You said you were his.”
Shen Wei blinks, and reticence settles over him like an impenetrable veil. “It’s complicated. But it’s my responsibility to stop him, no one else’s.”
So it’s personal between the Envoy and their enemy, then. The two of them must have been close once. Is that why Shen Wei sometimes seems so guarded and aloof—because his friend turned against him? Zhao Yunlan files that away and addresses the more salient point.
“Hei-laoge, you have the SID at your back now. You have me. You’re not alone in this.” It’s the middle of the night, but his nightmare feels distant, just a shadow now, and they’re sitting so close Zhao Yunlan can feel the heat of Shen Wei’s body if he concentrates. It would be so easy to transfer his hand from the back of the couch to Shen Wei’s shoulder. He doesn’t do it, but the urge loosens his tongue, and desire makes him hoarse. “You don’t have to be alone at all, not if you don’t want to.”
It comes out too sincere, too heartfelt, and he sees the moment Shen Wei understands. His eyes go dark and intent, flick up to Zhao Yunlan’s forehead again, then down. No offence or rejection or cool regretful politeness at all.
“Be sure of what you’re offering,” he says, quietly, with that hint of Envoy warning.
Zhao Yunlan stares, has to laugh. Is that a yes? Hope is heady and overwhelming, but there’s the stomach lurch of an unexpected precipice, too. Deciding whether to jump. Well, he’s always been one to leap before he looks, and Shen Wei might be mysterious, but Zhao Yunlan knows him, is learning him step by step. Like the fact, suddenly so obvious, that he doesn’t like to make light of serious matters. That’s why he was so touchy today, in the face of Zhao Yunlan’s good cheer. That’s why he was offended by Zhao Yunlan’s flirtatious recruitment gambit. All the same, if he wants Zhao Yunlan, he must be okay with a little teasing—it’s who Zhao Yunlan is, after all, and a leopard can’t change its spots.
Zhao Yunlan sways closer and smirks. “Hei-laoge, don’t you know I’m yours for the taking? I didn’t think I’d been so subtle.”
“Zhao Yunlan.” A little stiff, a shade of disapproval, but soft underneath. Hopeful.
All at once, the jokes and grins feel cheap and inappropriate. He lets them go.
“Shen Wei, I’m sure.” And he is sure—that he wants it, at least. Whether it’s the right thing to do, on the other hand—whether it’s safe—what it means to love a Dixingren, let alone the Black-Cloaked Envoy—? What if he screws up? But he’s abruptly desperate for Shen Wei’s hands on him, now it seems like that might be on offer. It’s the two of them—they’ll work the rest of it out.
A breath escapes Shen Wei’s lips, almost a sigh, almost—wistful? He raises his hand, and Zhao Yunlan’s eyes fall closed of their own volition just as Shen Wei touches his jaw, careful fingertips sending a jolt of desire through him with that simple contact. A thumb sweeps against the grain of his beard. Zhao Yunlan’s heart jumps into his throat, beating an urgent rhythm.
The couch creaks. Shen Wei’s leg presses against his knee, and Shen Wei’s breath is hot on his face. “I like your hair. I like it both ways.”
It sounds significant, but hot anticipation is rushing through Zhao Yunlan, he can’t think, can’t wait. He’s about to open his eyes and reach out when Shen Wei’s lips meet his—
The kiss feels like a fragile thing, a butterfly that could take flight at any moment. The kind of thing Zhao Yunlan would usually fuck up in his reckless way. He fights down a groan and the instinct to throw himself bodily at Shen Wei, concentrates instead on the sweet innocence of the kiss, the torturously soft trail of Shen Wei’s fingers below his ear, down his neck, making him shudder. And the shock of how right it feels—like a beginning filled with promise, like everything he hasn’t known to want.
But his hunger deepens fast, pressure filling him up till it can’t be ignored. He puts his hand on Shen Wei’s knee, grips it tight and opens his eyes to see Shen Wei’s beautiful flushed face pulling back, the parted lips, the tension that speaks of iron self-control. There’s a shiver in Shen Wei’s breath as he exhales, and Zhao Yunlan had known Shen Wei was protective of him, but the idea that he’s protecting Zhao Yunlan from Shen Wei’s own self—Does he think he’ll hurt Zhao Yunlan if he takes the brakes off? Does he think he’ll scare him off?
“Hey.” Zhao Yunlan catches Shen Wei’s hand and squeezes. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be careful of me.”
It’s stupid. The Envoy is supernaturally strong; if Shen Wei doesn’t keep himself in check, he could do all kinds of damage. Of course he has to hold back. But not this much, not treating Zhao Yunlan like he’s precious. That’s all backwards.
Belatedly, he registers that Shen Wei has frozen in place. Did he say something wrong? “What?”
Shen Wei meets his gaze, not trying to hide whatever feelings have brought tears to his eyes. He inhales, lets the breath out and says, pointedly, “I would hope we’d be careful of each other.”
Which isn’t exactly what Zhao Yunlan meant, and he doesn’t think it’s what has Shen Wei so moved, either, but he can’t argue. Isn’t that the reason he’s here in the first place—because he’d upset Shen Wei through his carelessness and had to make it right? There’s no chance Shen Wei will agree that only one of them deserves that kind of consideration.
“Fine,” he pretends to grumble, though he can’t help smiling. “Coddle me if you must. But it’s a two-way street. I won’t just stand by while you put yourself in danger, either.”
Shen Wei huffs but doesn’t otherwise object, no doubt saving his arguments for another time.
Zhao Yunlan has to approve of his priorities. He plucks the glasses from Shen Wei’s face just because he can, folds them and sets them on the coffee table, and then studies his face, all strength and beauty, his clear warm eyes, the lines of his nose and jaw. No more barriers between them, no need to hold back, Zhao Yunlan’s pleasure mirrored in Shen Wei’s smile.
It’s light years from earlier this evening, from Shen Wei’s silent annoyance and Zhao Yunlan’s own smug satisfaction. It’s a thousand times more real. He grins back, and when they kiss again the fragility has gone, transmuted into certainty and partnership. Shen Wei leans into their embrace, his hands and mouth growing pushy and demanding, and when Zhao Yunlan slouches back, Shen Wei follows till he’s half on top of him, right where he belongs, giving Zhao Yunlan room to smooth his hands up Shen Wei’s back, to clutch at him under his sweater vest.
Shen Wei slides a hand under Zhao Yunlan’s t-shirt, across his skin, exploring, lingering, and Zhao Yunlan shivers and groans, revelling in his touch—and then, despite himself, yawns.
“Don’t stop,” he mutters, cupping the nape of Shen Wei’s neck, doing his best to keep him on track, but it’s too late. Shen Wei pulls back to look at him, frowning. And honestly, Zhao Yunlan can’t say he’d do any different if it was Shen Wei dog-tired and yawning in his face. It is the middle of the night, and they both have responsibilities to fulfil tomorrow.
So, okay. Different plan. “You were doing university work when I got here. Do you have to finish it?”
“It can wait.” Which isn’t quite an answer, but Zhao Yunlan’s too tired to quibble. Getting horizontal seems to have flipped a switch in his body, and sadly, not the obvious one this time.
“Can we—” He takes a breath. He doesn’t want to explain about the nightmares—this is no time to enumerate all the ways he’s a mess. He doesn’t want Shen Wei deciding he’s too much of a burden after all. And despite the intoxicating wonder of being in Shen Wei’s arms, honestly he’s too tired to fuck—if that’s even on the agenda for them. He wants to be fully awake for the first time, paying proper attention, not drowsy and totally lacking in prowess. They both deserve better than that. So, okay—he’s going to ask outright for what he wants and trust Shen Wei to do the same or say no if he wants to.
“I’m really tired. Shen Wei, can I stay the night? I think I’d sleep better here.” With you.
Shen Wei stares at him, gaze as dark as the Envoy’s portal, and then he brushes Zhao Yunlan’s cheek with his thumb. “I’d like that very much.”
Zhao Yunlan’s eyes fall shut at the caress, and it’s too much effort to open them again, but he can hear the well of affection in Shen Wei’s voice, the warm smile. How can Zhao Yunlan be so tired with all this glorious opportunity in front of him? With Shen Wei finally touching him, holding him? But he is. Then he thinks of something. “Wait, Hei-laoge, do you sleep? I mean, is that a Dixing thing?”
He doesn’t want to assume.
“Yes. Come on.”
Strong hands grab his arms, pulling him upright, and he forces his eyes open long enough to see Shen Wei’s face, fond and happy in a way Zhao Yunlan’s never seen him before. When they make it to their feet, Zhao Yunlan kisses him again, sloppy and artless, trying to convey how glad he is, too, how much he wants to give. He’s veering into smugness, he can tell, but Shen Wei doesn’t seem to mind this time, just kisses him back, smiling against his mouth.
“Come on,” says Shen Wei, again, and steers him into the bedroom, where they climb into the neatly made bed together. It takes them a moment to arrange themselves, and then there are more slow sleepy kisses until, carried on the mingled tides of their breathing, Zhao Yunlan falls asleep in Shen Wei’s arms.
END
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: Teen
Length: 4686 words
Notes: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. Episode 14, Nightmares, Apologies, Zhao Yunlan’s issues (buttons), Mild mutual pining, First kiss, Get together, Sleepiness. Much much thanks to
trobadora for beta. References to childhood trauma. No other warnings. Summary: The night after Shen Wei’s first day with the SID, Zhao Yunlan wakes from a nightmare and needs to talk to Shen Wei.
Zhao Yunlan is in the best of spirits, walking his new consultant to his door. To both their doors, really, though in an ideal world they’d be using the same one, and he can’t help hinting as much. “If you need anything, come to me anytime.”
“What would I need?” asks Shen Wei, neutral enough that the question sounds genuine. Does he really not understand what Zhao Yunlan’s suggesting?
“Come on. Today was your first day with us. I’m worried—” Zhao Yunlan bends so they’re eye to eye and grins. “—you’ll be too excited to sleep.”
Shen Wei doesn’t smile at the teasing, doesn’t answer at all. He fishes his keys out of his bag and turns to his door, stiff and unimpressed. A clear rebuff.
“Good night, sleep well,” says Zhao Yunlan, undeterred.
He lets himself into his own flat, still too pleased with himself to worry about Shen Wei’s cool demeanour or the hints of underlying anger that had surfaced throughout the day. What matters is that Shen Wei has finally joined the SID. They’re on the same team, working together. Any lingering hard feelings about Zhao Yunlan’s method of persuasion or chagrin about the Envoy’s mistakes regarding Tan Xiao and Zheng Yi will quickly pass.
Zhao Yunlan will make them pass. He’ll tease them away. And then, who knows?
He’d thought, after he realised Shen Wei’s true identity, that he must have misinterpreted the last few months of mutual flirting. Dixing’s Black-Cloaked Envoy is so other-worldly—how could he have feelings for an ordinary human? But Shen Wei promised last night that they were friends—they’ve always been friends, and Zhao Yunlan still has no idea what to make of that “always”—so now he’s sure Shen Wei cares for him, even if it’s against his better judgement. Even if something’s making him clam up and back off. Zhao Yunlan just needs to convince him it’ll be worth it to overcome whatever obstacle lies between them and get closer.
So he’s good, can’t stop humming under his breath. Da Qing is elsewhere, and Zhao Yunlan gets ready for bed. He doesn’t need alcohol tonight to keep the nightmares away. He’s a grown man, the Envoy’s colleague. Nightmares are for children. And it’s been a long couple of days, what with letting himself be kidnapped and everything. He’s asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.
*
He wakes terrified, mouth dry, heart pounding, his t-shirt soaked with sweat. The room is dark, his breath loud and harsh in the silence. He gropes on the floor for a bottle but there’s nothing there, Shen Wei threw them away weeks ago, and they were all empty by then anyway.
Zhao Yunlan closes his eyes, tries to pull himself together, but the after-images of his nightmare crowd in—
—Shen Wei, bargaining with that taut smile, “How about my status? Take me instead,” and the Dixingren who’d killed Zhao Yunlan’s mother all those years ago shouting, “Since you’ve decided to do it like this, none of us can live!” while Zhao Yunlan looked on, helpless and horrified, and his father did nothing. The Dixingren blowing himself up, taking Shen Wei with him—
Zhao Yunlan flinches. He turns on the light and opens his eyes, squinting against the glare. He forces a laugh. That’s one thing to thank Zhu Jiu for, anyway—not accepting Shen Wei’s offer. It was bad enough finding out after the fact that Da Qing had been kidnapped and hypnotised by Zheng Yi. If Zhao Yunlan had been forced to stand by while Shen Wei delivered himself into that arsehole Zhu Jiu’s hands—
He sits up and shakes off the spectres of disastrous events that didn’t happen. He doesn’t have to worry about them. It’s not like his mother. He’ll never let it be like that again, just watching, held back, unable to throw himself into the line of fire, take her place—
Like Shen Wei had tried to do. The thought strikes him like a slap, sends a shudder across his sweat-damp skin, right down his spine. He’d put Shen Wei in exactly that position.
Someone Shen Wei cares about, someone he considers his best friend had let himself be kidnapped right in front of Shen Wei’s eyes, putting Shen Wei through that hell—
Shen Wei hadn’t known about the ear plugs. He would have believed Zhao Yunlan was choking himself because he was mesmerised, must have feared Zhu Jiu would dispose of him once he was no longer useful if Shen Wei didn’t find him in time.
Zhao Yunlan knows how that would have felt—the helplessness, the horror, the consuming dread. He knows. He’s lived with it shoved deep down in his belly every day since that day. The memories have been worse and more insistent since Lu Ruomei’s murder, and with all the other cases they’ve had lately roiling his dreams. Yet when Shen Wei asked if Zhao Yunlan was pretending the whole time, Zhao Yunlan had made that stupid crack about doing it to make him reveal his identity—
No wonder Shen Wei is angry.
Of course, it doesn’t really compare. Zhao Yunlan is just Zhao Yunlan, and Shen Wei shouldn’t waste so much time and concern on him. But Zhao Yunlan is addicted to Shen Wei’s regard and his friendship, and he’ll take whatever else Shen Wei is prepared to give, too. He wants Shen Wei under the SID’s roof, in his family. In his bed—
But nudging his way into someone’s life like that and then making them stand by helplessly—
Zhao Yunlan scrubs his hands over his face and grimaces. Who’s the arsehole now, Zhao Yunlan?
The move pulls his damp t-shirt across his clammy skin, and he grimaces again for a different reason, peels the t-shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor at the end of the bed, then debates taking a shower versus just changing and trying to get more sleep.
He doesn’t think he can sleep, not with the nightmare hanging over him. Not now he’s realised how badly he screwed up. Shen Wei will forgive him eventually, probably—maybe has already started to—but Zhao Yunlan needs to see him the way he used to need a cigarette, reaching for it before he’s realised.
His front door is solid and silent, and no knock comes despite Zhao Yunlan’s earlier invitation. Is Shen Wei asleep? Is he lying in the dark, reliving that moment when Zhao Yunlan was taken? Is he nursing a grudge, beneath that impeccably polite, businesslike exterior?
Zhao Yunlan wants a drink, but he doesn’t get one. Can’t have Shen Wei finding another pile of empty bottles. He goes into the bathroom and takes a piss, then stares at himself in the bathroom mirror in the half-light from the window. He’d known he was in serious trouble when they were in the mountains, toasting their hosts, and Shen Wei had gulped down that drink for him like taking a bullet—and almost as detrimental to his health in the short term. He’d piggybacked Shen Wei to his room, and there’d been about five minutes of just letting the truth sink in—that his heart was no longer his own. Then he’d smelled the jacket, and shock and disbelief had blotted out his yearning—almost.
Now the truth is back, and there’s no avoiding it. He can see it in his own eyes. If it was only lust, he could shrug it off or find some other way to scratch that itch, but it isn’t. It’s affection and connection, deep-rooted and ineradicable regardless of whether the ground is a fertile welcoming garden or the merest concrete crack of Hei-laoge’s professional regard. Zhao Yunlan was supposed to be alone, supposed to live that way until his inevitable untimely demise. He can’t foist himself on Shen Wei with that fate, but he doesn’t know how to hold it in—all of this, his wanting, his self.
And after all, Shen Wei is the Envoy. If anyone can stave off Zhao Yunlan’s death, it’s him. And from the perspective of a ten-thousand-year-old being, humans are just mayflies, aren’t they? A year or ten or forty—what’s the difference?
Whatever lies Zhao Yunlan has to tell himself, he hardly cares. He wants to go over there right now. Imagines Shen Wei answering the door, sleep-fuddled in pyjamas, without his glasses, hair tousled. Sweet and touchable. Inviting him in—
The old crazed edges of the bathroom sink dig into his palms as he fights the impulse. It doesn’t help. On impulse he parts his hair down the middle, a symbol of how far gone he is, his future narrowed down to just this one precious possibility. What Shen Wei will think when he sees it? Will he understand?
Fine, then. He’s doing this. He goes to the bedroom to find a clean t-shirt and jeans, grabs his keys and opens his door—
Doesn’t allow himself any time to second-guess. Knocks. Belatedly registers there’s yellow light spilling out under Shen Wei’s door. Hears the scrape of chair legs on the floor, then footsteps.
The door opens, spilling light into the dark hallway. The desk lamp is on, and in its glow, Shen Wei looks as put-together as he always does—glasses, shirtsleeves, sweater vest. No sleeve garters, though. He’s carrying a textbook in one hand, a finger marking his place. A part of Zhao Yunlan unclenches at the sight of him, safe and oblivious to the phantom danger in Zhao Yunlan’s nightmare. A part wants to crowd closer.
Shen Wei seems unsurprised it’s Zhao Yunlan on his doorstep—who else would be gauche enough to knock on his door in the middle of the night?—but then he looks up and almost does a double take.
“Zhao Yunlan?” It’s an actual question, like he doesn’t trust his eyes.
“Hi, you’re awake.” Zhao Yunlan grins. He has to keep the momentum up so this won’t be awkward. “Got a minute? I was—”
“You changed your hair.” Shen Wei hasn’t moved, is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s eyebrows. And he interrupted. Shen Wei never interrupts.
He must understand what it means, then. Zhao Yunlan is basically offering himself to Shen Wei, the Black-Cloaked Envoy, with no defences, nothing to hide behind. He feels his grin start to fade and gives it a boost. “I did it just now. Not sure if it suits me, so I thought I’d run it by you for a second opinion. Like it?”
Keeping it casual, as if 2.40am is a perfectly ordinary time of night to come over. As if consulting Shen Wei on his grooming is normal for them, and his hair change is just a fashion statement whim, nothing more. Zhao Yunlan licks his lips, and Shen Wei’s gaze drops to his mouth and stays there, and Zhao Yunlan can see his own feelings, his wanting reflected, and something more—a kind of wonder. Any disapproval or residual anger from yesterday seems completely forgotten.
Zhao Yunlan curls his hands into fists to keep from reaching for him right here in the doorway. “Shen Wei,” he says, softly, not wanting to break the spell, “can I come in?”
Shen Wei blinks, steps back a little and holds the door open. “Yes, of course.”
They’re both off-balance, and Zhao Yunlan has no idea what’s going through Shen Wei’s mind. He steps inside and looks to see what’s kept Shen Wei up so late. The answer is plain: the desk is covered with papers and books, an old-fashioned brush and ink stone clearly in use. Shen Wei must be making up the university work he missed today while he was at the SID and the Department of Supervision with Zhao Yunlan.
Professor Shen isn’t a cover; he’s as real as the Envoy. And Zhao Yunlan is interrupting what little time he has to himself. Something to keep in mind for the future, but he can’t leave now. He can’t.
Shen Wei slips a bookmark into the book he’s holding and sets it on top of the desk papers, and Zhao Yunlan lets himself be ushered to the couch. Shen Wei has recovered his poise and looks like he’s on the verge of offering tea, but what he actually says is, “Why are you still up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Something I have to tell you.” Zhao Yunlan sits down, steals a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl and pops a couple into his mouth. They burst dark and juicy sweet on his tongue, better than a lollipop. He slings his arm along the back of the couch, trying to make himself comfortable, and waits while Shen Wei sits, surprised when he takes the couch next to Zhao Yunlan rather than his usual armchair. He’s not right up against Zhao Yunlan, but he’s within reach. A surge of awareness charges the air, and Zhao Yunlan almost drops his head and looks up through his lashes, tempted to flirt his way through this so he doesn’t have to risk sincerity. But that move got a bad reaction last night, and he doesn’t want to provoke Shen Wei’s displeasure right now.
Shen Wei is waiting for him to say his piece.
Zhao Yunlan tries to say it straight: I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I know what that’s like, and I shouldn’t have put you through that. But now it’s come down to it, the words stick in his throat. His gambit had been a good strategic move, and he can’t apologise for something he’d do again in a heartbeat. So he takes a moment to remember the lab, the split-second decision, and Shen Wei’s trying to negotiate with Zhu Jiu while he must have been screaming on the inside. He meets Shen Wei’s gaze head on. “I didn’t know Zhu Jiu would take me hostage. I didn’t plan it, and I really didn’t play along just to unmask you. I was joking when I said that.”
Shen Wei frowns, maybe surprised by the choice of topic, maybe unhappy to be reminded of Zhao Yunlan’s kidnapping. “Then why did you do it?”
“Where do I start?” Zhao Yunlan holds up his hand and counts off the reasons on his fingers. “Get the Hallows back, gather intel on Zhu Jiu, find his base, lay a trap if the opportunity arose, rescue the kid before he used her as a weapon again.”
He can probably come up with another hand’s worth, if he thinks about it, but any two of those would have been reason enough.
“The kid,” repeats Shen Wei. “Zheng Yi?”
Zhao Yunlan shrugs. He doesn’t have a great record defending the rights of Shen Wei’s people. He hadn’t argued when the Envoy pretended to whisk the girl off to Dixing. Maybe Shen Wei hadn’t seen how much he’d wanted to, that he’d only held back out of respect. “She was abused by her stepfather. She didn’t deserve to be Zhu Jiu’s pawn, too.”
He throws the rest of his handful of grapes into his mouth, flicks his thumbnail against his forefinger, and waits for the Envoy’s reaction. Will he tell him off for interfering in business outside his jurisdiction? For pulling too-risky stunts and making him fear for Zhao Yunlan’s life? Will his frosty anger return, and how much is it a cover for something else—more secrets, say? That always been?
“Zheng Yi is Dixingren,” says Shen Wei.
It’s a challenge if ever Zhao Yunlan’s heard one. He swallows his mouthful of grape mush. Surely Shen Wei knows that doesn’t matter anymore. “So are you.”
That must hit home, because Shen Wei’s lips part as he inhales. But his tone, when he speaks, sounds more frustrated than endeared. “And when you put yourself in Zhu Jiu’s hands, did you have a strategy in mind to extricate yourself?”
“You mean if you didn’t find me? Eh, once Zheng Yi and Tan Xiao were reunited, I would have found an opportunity to grab the Sundial and use it on Zhu Jiu. It worked when Li Qian was attacked. Anyway, the point is—” The point is I know it must have shaken you. Can he presume that much? How revealing would it be? He shies from saying it outright, skirts that part and continues, “The point is it was for good reasons. I didn’t do it just to uncover your secret.” He smirks and lowers his voice. “I didn’t need to, did I? Weren’t you just about to tell me the truth when Zhu Jiu interrupted us?”
“Yes.” Shen Wei flushes slightly, but his exasperation persists. “Perhaps.”
Zhao Yunlan inches his hand further along the back of the couch, closer. “I wanted you to tell me yourself—to want to tell me.”
Shen Wei nods, accepting this point, but apparently can’t help picking holes in Zhao Yunlan’s plan. “The Hallows aren’t predictable or safe. You could have been killed, or at the very least, corrupted with dark energy.”
“That’s the job. You know that.” Zhao Yunlan won’t downplay the risks, can’t promise he won’t endanger himself. “Anyway, I knew Hei-laoge would find me in time. We have to do what’s in front of us. Together.”
Shen Wei inhales and looks away towards the window and the night outside. His jaw moves. “I really was trying to keep you safe. Being close to me is dangerous. The person I believe to be behind Zhu Jiu, I’m his enemy.”
Even distracted by Shen Wei’s proximity and this unaccustomed candour, the odd phrasing snags Zhao Yunlan’s attention. “Is he not yours?”
Shen Wei sends him a quick, startled look.
“Your enemy,” says Zhao Yunlan. “You said you were his.”
Shen Wei blinks, and reticence settles over him like an impenetrable veil. “It’s complicated. But it’s my responsibility to stop him, no one else’s.”
So it’s personal between the Envoy and their enemy, then. The two of them must have been close once. Is that why Shen Wei sometimes seems so guarded and aloof—because his friend turned against him? Zhao Yunlan files that away and addresses the more salient point.
“Hei-laoge, you have the SID at your back now. You have me. You’re not alone in this.” It’s the middle of the night, but his nightmare feels distant, just a shadow now, and they’re sitting so close Zhao Yunlan can feel the heat of Shen Wei’s body if he concentrates. It would be so easy to transfer his hand from the back of the couch to Shen Wei’s shoulder. He doesn’t do it, but the urge loosens his tongue, and desire makes him hoarse. “You don’t have to be alone at all, not if you don’t want to.”
It comes out too sincere, too heartfelt, and he sees the moment Shen Wei understands. His eyes go dark and intent, flick up to Zhao Yunlan’s forehead again, then down. No offence or rejection or cool regretful politeness at all.
“Be sure of what you’re offering,” he says, quietly, with that hint of Envoy warning.
Zhao Yunlan stares, has to laugh. Is that a yes? Hope is heady and overwhelming, but there’s the stomach lurch of an unexpected precipice, too. Deciding whether to jump. Well, he’s always been one to leap before he looks, and Shen Wei might be mysterious, but Zhao Yunlan knows him, is learning him step by step. Like the fact, suddenly so obvious, that he doesn’t like to make light of serious matters. That’s why he was so touchy today, in the face of Zhao Yunlan’s good cheer. That’s why he was offended by Zhao Yunlan’s flirtatious recruitment gambit. All the same, if he wants Zhao Yunlan, he must be okay with a little teasing—it’s who Zhao Yunlan is, after all, and a leopard can’t change its spots.
Zhao Yunlan sways closer and smirks. “Hei-laoge, don’t you know I’m yours for the taking? I didn’t think I’d been so subtle.”
“Zhao Yunlan.” A little stiff, a shade of disapproval, but soft underneath. Hopeful.
All at once, the jokes and grins feel cheap and inappropriate. He lets them go.
“Shen Wei, I’m sure.” And he is sure—that he wants it, at least. Whether it’s the right thing to do, on the other hand—whether it’s safe—what it means to love a Dixingren, let alone the Black-Cloaked Envoy—? What if he screws up? But he’s abruptly desperate for Shen Wei’s hands on him, now it seems like that might be on offer. It’s the two of them—they’ll work the rest of it out.
A breath escapes Shen Wei’s lips, almost a sigh, almost—wistful? He raises his hand, and Zhao Yunlan’s eyes fall closed of their own volition just as Shen Wei touches his jaw, careful fingertips sending a jolt of desire through him with that simple contact. A thumb sweeps against the grain of his beard. Zhao Yunlan’s heart jumps into his throat, beating an urgent rhythm.
The couch creaks. Shen Wei’s leg presses against his knee, and Shen Wei’s breath is hot on his face. “I like your hair. I like it both ways.”
It sounds significant, but hot anticipation is rushing through Zhao Yunlan, he can’t think, can’t wait. He’s about to open his eyes and reach out when Shen Wei’s lips meet his—
The kiss feels like a fragile thing, a butterfly that could take flight at any moment. The kind of thing Zhao Yunlan would usually fuck up in his reckless way. He fights down a groan and the instinct to throw himself bodily at Shen Wei, concentrates instead on the sweet innocence of the kiss, the torturously soft trail of Shen Wei’s fingers below his ear, down his neck, making him shudder. And the shock of how right it feels—like a beginning filled with promise, like everything he hasn’t known to want.
But his hunger deepens fast, pressure filling him up till it can’t be ignored. He puts his hand on Shen Wei’s knee, grips it tight and opens his eyes to see Shen Wei’s beautiful flushed face pulling back, the parted lips, the tension that speaks of iron self-control. There’s a shiver in Shen Wei’s breath as he exhales, and Zhao Yunlan had known Shen Wei was protective of him, but the idea that he’s protecting Zhao Yunlan from Shen Wei’s own self—Does he think he’ll hurt Zhao Yunlan if he takes the brakes off? Does he think he’ll scare him off?
“Hey.” Zhao Yunlan catches Shen Wei’s hand and squeezes. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be careful of me.”
It’s stupid. The Envoy is supernaturally strong; if Shen Wei doesn’t keep himself in check, he could do all kinds of damage. Of course he has to hold back. But not this much, not treating Zhao Yunlan like he’s precious. That’s all backwards.
Belatedly, he registers that Shen Wei has frozen in place. Did he say something wrong? “What?”
Shen Wei meets his gaze, not trying to hide whatever feelings have brought tears to his eyes. He inhales, lets the breath out and says, pointedly, “I would hope we’d be careful of each other.”
Which isn’t exactly what Zhao Yunlan meant, and he doesn’t think it’s what has Shen Wei so moved, either, but he can’t argue. Isn’t that the reason he’s here in the first place—because he’d upset Shen Wei through his carelessness and had to make it right? There’s no chance Shen Wei will agree that only one of them deserves that kind of consideration.
“Fine,” he pretends to grumble, though he can’t help smiling. “Coddle me if you must. But it’s a two-way street. I won’t just stand by while you put yourself in danger, either.”
Shen Wei huffs but doesn’t otherwise object, no doubt saving his arguments for another time.
Zhao Yunlan has to approve of his priorities. He plucks the glasses from Shen Wei’s face just because he can, folds them and sets them on the coffee table, and then studies his face, all strength and beauty, his clear warm eyes, the lines of his nose and jaw. No more barriers between them, no need to hold back, Zhao Yunlan’s pleasure mirrored in Shen Wei’s smile.
It’s light years from earlier this evening, from Shen Wei’s silent annoyance and Zhao Yunlan’s own smug satisfaction. It’s a thousand times more real. He grins back, and when they kiss again the fragility has gone, transmuted into certainty and partnership. Shen Wei leans into their embrace, his hands and mouth growing pushy and demanding, and when Zhao Yunlan slouches back, Shen Wei follows till he’s half on top of him, right where he belongs, giving Zhao Yunlan room to smooth his hands up Shen Wei’s back, to clutch at him under his sweater vest.
Shen Wei slides a hand under Zhao Yunlan’s t-shirt, across his skin, exploring, lingering, and Zhao Yunlan shivers and groans, revelling in his touch—and then, despite himself, yawns.
“Don’t stop,” he mutters, cupping the nape of Shen Wei’s neck, doing his best to keep him on track, but it’s too late. Shen Wei pulls back to look at him, frowning. And honestly, Zhao Yunlan can’t say he’d do any different if it was Shen Wei dog-tired and yawning in his face. It is the middle of the night, and they both have responsibilities to fulfil tomorrow.
So, okay. Different plan. “You were doing university work when I got here. Do you have to finish it?”
“It can wait.” Which isn’t quite an answer, but Zhao Yunlan’s too tired to quibble. Getting horizontal seems to have flipped a switch in his body, and sadly, not the obvious one this time.
“Can we—” He takes a breath. He doesn’t want to explain about the nightmares—this is no time to enumerate all the ways he’s a mess. He doesn’t want Shen Wei deciding he’s too much of a burden after all. And despite the intoxicating wonder of being in Shen Wei’s arms, honestly he’s too tired to fuck—if that’s even on the agenda for them. He wants to be fully awake for the first time, paying proper attention, not drowsy and totally lacking in prowess. They both deserve better than that. So, okay—he’s going to ask outright for what he wants and trust Shen Wei to do the same or say no if he wants to.
“I’m really tired. Shen Wei, can I stay the night? I think I’d sleep better here.” With you.
Shen Wei stares at him, gaze as dark as the Envoy’s portal, and then he brushes Zhao Yunlan’s cheek with his thumb. “I’d like that very much.”
Zhao Yunlan’s eyes fall shut at the caress, and it’s too much effort to open them again, but he can hear the well of affection in Shen Wei’s voice, the warm smile. How can Zhao Yunlan be so tired with all this glorious opportunity in front of him? With Shen Wei finally touching him, holding him? But he is. Then he thinks of something. “Wait, Hei-laoge, do you sleep? I mean, is that a Dixing thing?”
He doesn’t want to assume.
“Yes. Come on.”
Strong hands grab his arms, pulling him upright, and he forces his eyes open long enough to see Shen Wei’s face, fond and happy in a way Zhao Yunlan’s never seen him before. When they make it to their feet, Zhao Yunlan kisses him again, sloppy and artless, trying to convey how glad he is, too, how much he wants to give. He’s veering into smugness, he can tell, but Shen Wei doesn’t seem to mind this time, just kisses him back, smiling against his mouth.
“Come on,” says Shen Wei, again, and steers him into the bedroom, where they climb into the neatly made bed together. It takes them a moment to arrange themselves, and then there are more slow sleepy kisses until, carried on the mingled tides of their breathing, Zhao Yunlan falls asleep in Shen Wei’s arms.
END