Title: two are halves of one
Fandom: Guardian (TV)
Rating: T-rated
Length: 850 words
Notes: Title from ee cummings. Much thanks to trobadora for very last-minute insta-beta. <3
Tags: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan, Episode Related, Episode 22 after the blindness arc, First Kiss (for one of them)
Summary: A deep twist of desire makes Zhao Yunlan laugh. "After this—” He circles his chopsticks over the meal and has to clear his throat to keep his voice light. “Shen Wei, I think you should give me a thorough health check.”




Zhao Yunlan stuffs Shen Wei’s homecooked food into his mouth. His heart is light, his mind tingling. During his blindness, he’d leant on hearing and the feel of his surroundings: smells, shifting temperatures and air currents, maybe, though it had felt more intangible than that. His intuitive senses are still heightened, but now he can see, too. The world throngs with tastes, scents, colours, light.

As he chews, he focuses on the man across from him—and is dazzled anew. Shen Wei has made himself at home here. Guiding him. Finding clothes for him to wear. Cooking. Feasting with him. Agreeing to take him back to Dixing. Shen Wei, the Black-Cloaked Envoy, is Zhao Yunlan’s good fortune personified.

One who looks up and catches Zhao Yunlan staring. “What?”

Zhao Yunlan swallows his mouthful of clams and lowers his chopsticks. Fondness and hope well in his throat. “Shen Wei.”

“Mm?”

Shen Wei’s mouth gleams with traces of savoury sauce. He has the ability to vanish into thin air, but here, his presence is solid and calm. For all his secrets, Zhao Yunlan trusts him to the ends of the earth—trusts his certainty, intentions, kindness. His capability. His hands.

A deep twist of desire makes Zhao Yunlan laugh. “After this—” He circles his chopsticks over the meal and has to clear his throat to keep his voice light. “Shen Wei, I think you should give me a thorough health check.”

Shen Wei visibly considers this. “Are you suffering ill-effects of the energy exchange?”

Zhao Yunlan shakes his head. “What if I have bruises from groping around in the dark? Don’t you want to tend to them?”

It’s half a joke, and half—not. Fuck, he needs Shen Wei’s hands on him. Surely Shen Wei will understand. Surely Shen Wei feels it too.

And there—Shen Wei’s lips part on an inhale. His fingertips go pale on his chopsticks. The steady rise and fall of his chest speeds up. He swallows, and says, solemnly, “You—your body has been through a lot. I should check you over very thoroughly.”

If it weren’t for the dark heat in his gaze, the faintest of quirks at the corner of his mouth, Zhao Yunlan might think they’ve got their wires crossed. As it is, he’s sure they haven’t, and being sure, he burns with so much desire he almost melts right off his stool. “I feel a bit weak,” he says. “Honestly, I can only think of one cure.”

Almost before he gets the words out, Shen Wei is standing right next to him, grasping Zhao Yunlan’s upper arm. “Perhaps you should lie down.”

Zhao Yunlan jumps, then laughs in surprise. Did Shen Wei just teleport around the table? It makes sense he’d use his powers—they’re part of him, after all. So, then—what other powers does he have? The question sends a further tide of heat through Zhao Yunlan. He turns and slides off the stool almost into an embrace. Almost.

Shen Wei has been touching him for days—matter-of-factly turning him one way or another, gently arranging him on the couch or bed and covering him with blankets, bossily grabbing his wrist and dragging him to safety—all of it bordering on proprietary. But Zhao Yunlan’s sight is restored now. He can look after himself. And he really doesn’t want to find out that all that manhandling was purely for necessity’s sake.

“Shen Wei,” he says softly, the syllables like an appetiser in his mouth. “You’re a hands-on kind of healer, right?”

“Very. Zhao Yunlan.” Shen Wei catches his hand and presses his lips to Zhao Yunlan’s palm, sparking a thrill, then an impatient clamour.

Zhao Yunlan is aware of everything—Shen Wei’s cologne, his proximity, the warmth of the room, and Zhao Yunlan’s own heart thundering in his ears. Most of all, the sight of him: intent, dark-eyed, so beautiful.

Shen Wei raises Zhao Yunlan’s hand to his cheek and holds it there, with Zhao Yunlan’s fingers falling where the arm of the glasses usually sits, and Zhao Yunlan’s thumb savouring the smoothness of Shen Wei’s cheek. The message couldn’t be clearer: Touch me, too.

Shen Wei leaves Zhao Yunlan’s hand there and releases Zhao Yunlan’s arm, gripping his hips instead, like Shen Wei’s not a hundred percent sure I feel weak was a joke. Or maybe it’s not that at all: his fingers tighten through the jeans, and Zhao Yunlan can sense the tension in his body, a palpable urge to close the gap between them.

Just one more second, thinks Zhao Yunlan, taking a moment to slide his hand down Shen Wei’s neck until his thumb is tucked into the vee of Shen Wei’s shirt. He’s never really touched anyone like this before, careful and awestruck, with all of his concentration and all of his heart. He can’t even smile or joke.

“Shen Wei,” he breathes again, a naked plea, now, and they move as one, two halves coming together, merging. They kiss like starving men falling on wholesome rations, and it fills Zhao Yunlan’s senses, gloriously, deliciously overwhelming.


END