dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Despite what certain people might postulate, he's not entirely inexperienced. Sex and romance are two wildly different things, after all, and while he might have never had a steady, solid relationship, he at least knows when he's being flirted with. He's not that dense.

So, with that in mind: hey, what the fuck!

He doesn't gape at him, thank god. He just swallows thickly, his face going just a little heated, and god, is he blushing? His skin isn't as pale as it could be, thank god, so maybe he won't notice.]

Uh-- yeah. Deal.

[SMOOTH. Even smoother: the way he takes a half-step back, realizes what he's doing, steps forward again. Now would like to walk into the ocean a little after that stupid teeter-totter display, thank you. His temper flares again, rushing forward in a vague attempt at hiding his growing horror and embarrassment.

He turns, scowling, fully intending to storm up the path, because he's doing great.]

Come on.

[Aha— Huaisang stands there, eyebrows raised like he's surprised that Jiang Cheng is doing... this. This back and forth thing he's worked himself up into in seconds flat; it's endearing, of course it is, Huaisang doesn't make a habit of flirting around without any interest to back it up, but all the same... wow.

Wow, Jiang Cheng. When he turns Huaisang seems to remember to do something, hastily tucking the fan away at his waist and reaching to grab Jiang Cheng's arm. Hey, hey—]

Wait, wait! [Is he going to apologize? Uh, no— but he's holding that arm with both hands and trying to think of something to say, so...] Don't rush off!

[And-- alright, there's a distinct difference between nudging someone with a fan and touching them with his own hands, he's suddenly very aware of that much. It's not like they're pressed together, he's barely touching Jiang Cheng at all, but it's-- well, now he's dwelling on it. He looks at Jiang Cheng's face and then away, lips pursed in thought.

Cool. Cool cool cool.]

Let's talk about something else, A-Cheng.

[ah, fuck, let's cancel Feelings.]

[Talk? No. He has no real interest in talking, because he's going to make a fucking fool of himself (an even bigger fool of himself) if he tries to play this off cool. There's no talking. There's just Huaisang, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and-- god, not pity, never pity, but at least slightly sympathetic to poor, virginal Jiang Cheng.

(Or at least, that's what it seems to him, so touchy and ill-tempered as he can be).

But where he might normally storm off, now he stays. A-Cheng, and honestly, Huaisang didn't have to grab him. He could have just said that and stopped him in his tracks.

He glances back at him, his expression twisted up in something unreadable, his eyes darting about his face.]

Two weeks.

[Be there. It's snapped out, as much an order as anything else he ever says. And before Huaisang can say anything else-- before he can tell Jiang Cheng that it's okay, that he didn't mean anything by it, that they can politely pretend nothing happened, it's fine, he didn't mean to be overwhelming or whatever-- Jiang Cheng darts forward.

It's not a good kiss, really. It's swift and a little too harsh, his fingers gripping Huaisang's shoulder. His mouth is soft, he notes faintly, soft and sweet, and god, but he wants to kiss him more, he wants . . . whatever. The point is, it's a kiss, and with it, a firm declaration: that not only is he signaling his approval, but that he refuses to let that idiotic display just now set the tone of whatever they're about to do.]

Two weeks.

[He echoes it, taking a step back, and then another. Is he going to flee like a fucking child? Maybe! Whatever! Two weeks! Be there!]

[Two weeks, he says, and Huaisang is ready to confirm that yes, he didn't already forget about Jin Ling's feast, and then Jiang Cheng's mouth is against his before he can speak. His hands fumble, surprised, and grips Jiang Cheng's sleeve a little too tightly before he remembers himself and lets go. It's hasty and hard and exactly how he'd expect Jiang Cheng to kiss, all emotion and zero finesse. That's enough; Jiang Cheng's grip on his shoulder steadies him against the sudden wave of something that courses through him, an aching and almost painful awareness of how long he's, ah... been without.

So it's enough; he wants very much to lean into Jiang Cheng properly, to take more and more, but Jiang Cheng pulls away before Huaisang's thoughts can settle and his head can clear and oh, two weeks. Huaisang clasps his hands firmly behind his back and nods, acceptance and understanding and the herculean self control he requires to not reach for Jiang Cheng again here and now. Okay. Alright!]

Two weeks.

[And Jiang Cheng makes his strategic retreat, which is small mercy to them both, despite how much it feels like the opposite in his immediate absence. Huaisang is distracted for the rest of the day and much of the next, head empty save for the memory of Jiang Cheng's firm hand and the warmth of his mouth. But he has two weeks to mull over that, and maybe by the time he has to set out for the banquet, he'll have calmed down.

It is a nice wish. He accomplishes it more or less anyway, arriving in two weeks with his small entourage and quite a few very expensive gifts to push on the boy as a token of his well-wishes. There's been business to take care of in the interim that's set him back on track, regrettably, and he's unfortunately swept into talk of it with members of smaller clans in the hours before the banquet itself begins. He does his best to focus, but he still keeps an eye and ear out for Jiang Cheng, gaze lingering on him whenever he does manage to spot him stomping around dealing with the rest of the preparations.

So, then: the banquet. He's seated to Jiang Cheng's right, obviously, as the leader of one of the great sects, and spends much of the meal leaning forward to talk around him to Jin Ling, who is doing the best he can at being the centerpiece of this whole thing on his uncle's left. Huaisang is here to butter up the young master, after all... It isn't as if he's ignoring Jiang Cheng, far from it, but he knows how to behave in public.

He knows, and yet when he leans around Jiang Cheng to prod Jin Ling with another question sometime around the second course, his hand finds its way to Jiang Cheng's knee and lingers there, very subtly. It's as much a racy flirtation, here where someone might guess at his game, as it is an earnest display of affection; two weeks is a long time to think about kissing Jiang Cheng without seeing him! He'll get through this dinner come hell or high water, but god, he's going to be like this for the rest of the meal, rest assured.]

[Mercifully, he does not actually drop his liquor.

It's close, though. It's too close, his hand jerking enough that Jin Ling scowls at him in confusion. But whatever, the kid focuses back on the fucking Sect Leader asking him questions, so it's fine. It's fine because no one can see them; it's fine because Jiang Cheng hadn't realized just how much just one touch could affect him, and damned if he'll give it up too quickly.

God. Is he that touch-deprived? Well, yes. Clearly, yes, because it's just a hand on his knee, and yet it's the only thing he can think about right now. Heavy, deliberate heat, his thumb stroking lightly against the curve, and fuck, but it's pathetic how that sparks his imagination. He wouldn't mind that hand elsewhere. Not-- not crudely (although that, too), but literally, anywhere. Brushing against his cheek or the curve of his neck, down his chest, anywhere, but god, he's so desperate for more of it.

It's not a competition. But still, he won't let Huaisang want him fumble through move after move. He's got more dignity than that.

He sets his liquor down. Shifts a little so he can be sure one trailing sleeve covers Huaisang's hand. And then, quite firmly, places his own hand atop his, fingers gripping firmly, his thumb brushing against the inside of his wrist. Stay just like that, a grip both possessive and demanding. If he wants to flirt, they can flirt, all right.

He even glances over at him, just once, meeting his gaze rather matter-of-factly. Your move.]

[Jin Ling, bless him, has no idea what immaturity is happening immediately in front of him. Huaisang doesn't expect him to; he can see the boy is stressed and nervous, see the desperate gratitude in his eyes when Huaisang asks him something and keeps his attention away from other people, people he doesn't know, who might have otherwise approached and tried to get in a few words. Huaisang has wasted enough time at Lanling Jin to be at least familiar with Jin Ling, if only just; he doesn't stop to wonder what the boy thinks of this sect leader who used to cry on his other uncle's shoulder now cheerfully chattering away at Jiang Cheng's elbow.

Still, Jin Ling's casual obliviousness makes this stupid, stupid thing they're doing that much easier. If he notices them share a glance and catches the tail end of Huaisang's smallest of smirks, he says nothing; surely they're just making fun of him for whatever he's just said about Lan Sizhui anyway, so never mind. Huaisang can multitask, asking Jin Ling something about night hunting while he leans a little closer, clearly enthusiastic about spirit nets and not for the excuse to press against Jiang Cheng's arm.

People, ah, people can see this one. He's sure there are eyebrows raising and eyes rolling in the rest of the hall, a murmured comment or two about how that Nie Huaisang is better, isn't he, but he's still shameless when it comes to literally falling all over the other leaders for support. All Jiang Cheng has to do is keep a straight face and none will be any the wiser. Probably.]

—And, [he's saying now, and is it still about night hunts? Uh,] Jiang-xiong knows what to do, just in case! Isn't that right, Sect Leader?

[It's probably still about night hunts. Huaisang nods very certainly about this probably-night-hunts thing, taking advantage of the sleeve cover to turn his hand and slide his fingers in between Jiang Cheng's. There will be time enough later for touching knees through several layers of robes, but for now it's this, holding his hand in secret like a couple of juniors. Those kids wish they could pull off this move.]

Ah-- yes. Though you shouldn't need my help, [he adds supportively to his only nephew.] You're old enough to take care of almost anything you'd encounter on a night hunt.

[It lacks any real heat, though. Holding hands with the man you've had a growing crush on tends to mellow out anyone. He squeezes just once, but even that isn't about showing off. It's just . . . nice, that's all, to feel Huaisang's hand beneath his, just small enough to fit perfectly.

Eventually, the conversation peters off, and he regrettably has to release his hand. They've got hours left in this banquet, which is fucking unbearable, but at least he can make it pass a bit more quickly. He doesn't lean all over Huaisang, no, but thank god for Huaisang and his fan. It means he can lean in a bit closer than he ordinarily might, acting as though they're talking about some sensitive clan matter.]

This can't go on for much longer.

[Another course? Two? Jin Ling leaving home is a big deal, sure, but it's not like he's getting married.]

Come by for a drink afterwards.

[A "drink", whatever.]

[Well, the food is good, if not the tragic loss of sneakily holding hands like real adults. Huaisang considers himself a very patient man, considering, and yet sitting next to Jiang Cheng without being able to touch him even casually is suddenly among the hardest things he's ever had to do. There's harmless flirting and then there's a deluge of old feelings dredged up by new peace, or more accurately, the endless possibilities of things they could be doing instead of sitting here nodding politely at people whose names Huaisang doesn't care to remember.

So it is a long banquet despite Jiang Cheng's invitation, or perhaps because of it; Huaisang hums in the affirmative behind his fan, and that is more or less it— food and drink and other people pull their attention away from each other for the rest of it. Huaisang can't even enjoy the presentation of everyone's fancy gifts the way he normally might, the only good part of any of these banquets, because it's taking so long and he's all too aware of Jiang Cheng beside him. Torture.

When the thing finally ends, Huaisang sits through only a couple members of smaller sects coming up to formally say goodbye to the bunch of them before he excuses himself and insists he has to retire. He is a longtime friend, of course there's a room prepared for him somewhere and at this point he knows where it is without help, thank you, that will be all from the various servants— and then Huaisang is alone in a hallway, taking a moment to loiter around and let people disperse before he turns on his heel and sets out for Jiang Cheng's rooms instead.

He taps the door frame with the end of his fan before sliding it open enough to peer inside. Surely, Jiang Cheng took the hint and excused himself as well...]

Jiang-xiong? Are you here?

[He sure isn't!

Just kidding, he's way too thirsty to put this off for another minute. He'd barely waited a respectable amount of time before deciding that he didn't have to say goodbye to every sect leader that wants to catch his eye. It's rude, sure, but it's fine.

Huaisang is way more important, anyway.

And see, he'd intended on talking like an adult. Discussing what this is, what they are, what kinds of expectations ought to be set . . . he really had intended that.

But he's also spent two weeks thinking about that first kiss, and hey, shockingly, Jiang Cheng is not known for his patience? So yeah. The intentions are good, but the instant Huaisang slides the door closed, Jiang Cheng is kissing him.

It's messy, sure, but at least better than last time. Less harsh, more hungry, his hand sweeping up the side of his neck, body pressing forward because he is so, so desperate for any kind of contact. Words can come later. Words will come later, they have to, but god, let him be irresponsible for just a little while.]

[Wow, who is this impatient stranger?? Or: oh, that's delightful actually, to go from zero to so much Jiang Cheng against him after the sheer depth of his wanting for, uh, two weeks? This entirely too long evening? Huaisang makes a noise against his mouth, surprise and approval at once, and grips a handful of the front of Jiang Cheng's robes to quite literally pull himself up into the kiss. Messy is nothing— messy he can work with, sliding his other hand over Jiang Cheng's shoulder just to marvel at the fact that he can.

It's a good kiss, better than the first one for sure, as much as they need to talk about their feelings like adults sooner rather than later. Huaisang can wait, his words will still be there after Jiang Cheng makes a mess of his mouth. It's enough; it's a very emphatic assurance that they will certainly do this again, that two weeks ago wasn't a fluke—

But ah, quite literally up on tiptoe and pressed to Jiang Cheng in any many places as he can be, Huaisang is almost dizzy with it. It's been so, so very long since anyone has touched him with affection, let alone like this, and he'll be embarrassed later of the way he gasps when he breaks apart for air. God, just- just a second.]

A-Cheng, [he breathes, and shuffles a half-step to the side, pointedly, still all but permanently attached to Jiang Cheng. Come on, sect leader, seduce him somewhere comfortable.] Away from the door. I'm already sore from sitting all afternoon...

Is that what you want to say to me? Don't be a brat.

[But though the words are his, there's something rather lacking to his snappish tone. Don't tell anyone, but there's very little he wouldn't do right now if it meant he could keep kissing Huaisang.

So: to the bed. He hesitates for half a second, debating on whether or not he ought to pull Huaisang along or if that's too much. Kissing is one thing, after all, and it's not as if . . . well, he doesn't want to assume anything. Especially since there's a very large part of Jiang Cheng that's certain Huaisang will come to his senses soon.

Just sitting is all right. Sitting close, sitting so their legs are bumping up against one another, so he can keep their fingers tangled together, so he can see just how Huaisang's mouth has gone all red and swollen. His eyes dart up, down, up once more, as good sense overpowers lust and he realizes he doesn't know what happens next.]

You're lucky no one caught you tonight.

[It's literally the first thing that comes to mind, and god, but it sounds too harsh. He didn't mean it to sound like a reprimand. He'd really enjoyed it, actually, but that's the way it is with Jiang Cheng: everything comes out with edges so sharp he cuts himself in the process.]

[Ah, and the simple delight of just being close enough to touch continues as Jiang Cheng tugs him along to sit on his bed. There are implications, of course, to sitting like this on somebody's bed— they can get to those. For now Huaisang appreciates Jiang Cheng's hand in his, and the way his lips can almost still feel that kiss...

But there's no point getting ahead of himself. He laughs, a little chuckle hastily stifled behind his free hand. This man. Please.]

I'm good at not getting caught!

[That's his whole thing! He's a professional! This was all a very good idea and he won't hear any complaints, Jiang Cheng. Huaisang leans toward him, not to catch him in another kiss but to brush an errant strand of hair back from his face and linger there, palm settling against his cheek. Hey, what's up.]

No one will catch me if I stay.

[Like, he'll even stay just to chastely bump knees, he's in deep enough.]

Then stay.

[How easily he phrases that, without any implication or demand woven within the words. He really is good at that-- far better than Jiang Cheng ever would have suspected, which just goes to show.

But ah, his hand is . . . oh, and he goes so impossibly still, basking in each point of contact, his heart thudding dully in his chest. It's almost too good, as absurd as that sounds; his own hand covers Huaisang's, and there's a moment where he almost pulls his hand off.

But no, that would be stupid. Instead: he turns his head into it, the tips of his fingers tracing against the back of Huaisang's hand. There's a lot he wants to say, a lot of emotions twisting around in his mind and soul, nearly choking him for how much he feels them, and he doesn't know how to articulate a single one of them.

So, instead:]

Comfortable enough, or are you going to complain again?

[They held hands under a table earlier and Huaisang felt giddy, as ridiculous as that is; this is a dozen times that, spreading a warmth out from his chest that, honestly? He wasn't sure he could still feel. It's momentarily overwhelming to be reminded that he can, to have Jiang Cheng wake up some part of him that he pushed down for so very long.

And Jiang Cheng's skin is warm, his hand just bigger than Huaisang's enough to be noticeable, and he can't help but want to run his hands all over, down his chest, across his back— you know, he's not picky. But not yet— this is something different. Softer.

Even if they're going to snip at each other like children, as is tradition.]

A sect leader should be a more gracious host than you are.

[Rude, rude man... Huaisang smooths his thumb over his cheekbone, shifting to bump knees and move not quite into Jiang Cheng's lap so he can rest his head against his shoulder. It's time to talk, like grownups, but consider: hold him??]

I'm comfortable.

And so long as you are, nothing else matters.

[Drawled out, and he shifts them both, so he can at least lean his weight against the wall while Huaisang leans against him. Which is a very comfortable state of being, honestly, and there's a sort of thrill to that unto itself: gently adjusting what Huaisang had begun, and realizing that he won't pull away immediately when Jiang Cheng does.

His arm curls around him, and, somewhat tentatively, he pushes his fingers through his hair. He very much wants to kiss him again, but that can wait, presumably, until they talk like grown-ups.]

Don't lecture me on manners. I won't kiss you again if you keep complaining.

[Oh, that's very comfortable, good thinking. Huaisang doesn't protest at all; if anything he settles in even more comfortably once they've moved, sliding his arm around Jiang Cheng's waist and humming, low and appreciative of the hand in his hair. Yes, that's excellent, keep doing that.]

If you kiss me, I can't complain.

[galaxy brain]

What is it that you want from this?

[From this, from him... It's time to Talk, and the question is piercing but his voice is soft, more curious than demanding. Hopeful? He'll think about it.]

Ah . . .

[He's had two weeks to think of an answer, but still the question paralyzes him. What does he want? What doesn't he want? Sex is the easiest answer, but honestly, sex is the least of it. He can live without sex. Intimacy, though, that's . . .

He desperately wants intimacy. He wants this: Huaisang beneath his arm, the heat of his body flush against Jiang Cheng's own, soft whispers exchanged in the darkness and the whole world blocked out for a precious few hours.

But it's impossible to ask for that. How on earth can he do it without sounding pathetic? Oh, A-Sang, I'm so lonely, come keep me company, because you definitely want a partner who's broken on the best of days! No. No, he won't.

So what does he say?]

I--

[Fuck. Fuck, it's so hard to talk when he's not snarling and snapping. His heart pounds hard in his chest, his body suddenly gone stiff as his fingers still in his hair.]

Not just . . . I don't want to just kiss you.

[It's something, anyway. God, what an emotionally constipated man.]

You . . . I've missed seeing you.

[The thing about being sprawled like this is, when Jiang Cheng's heart beats near out of his chest, Huaisang can practically feel it like his own. Curled up close and with that beat for music, something to listen to while Jiang Cheng finds his words.

Well, those are words. Nebulous, uncertain... Huaisang didn't expect something different from him and can't help being amused.

So.]

Two weeks.

[Ah— two weeks he'll stay, two weeks to come together to put whatever this is in more certain terms. Huaisang has left his whimsy behind him in their teen years; today, while he would like more than anything else to have this for as long as he's able, well.

Two weeks, to say with certainty that this is more than lust, or plain settling. Plus, it'll be fun. He tilts his head back despite Jiang Cheng's hand, to look at his face. He can't just say two weeks and be done with it after the man tried so hard to say he's missed him, so—]

I want to be close to you, A-Cheng. What do you say?

[Two weeks, and there's something a little wonderful about that relief. For two weeks, he doesn't have to put this into words. That swell of hope and the terror that comes with it, the obligation and expectation that comes with words . . . all of that he can put off until later.

He glances down at him for a long few seconds. What do you say, well, he's never been good at words. But he is good at action. He's good at being decisive, at striking while the iron is hot. And he's very good at being blunt and sharp.

This isn't a time for bluntness. It's not a time for lashing out. And so it's with almost extraordinary delicacy that he leans down, kissing him so terribly gently. Not rushed, not the way he had before, all frentic energy and desperation not to think, but sweetly, taking his time to savor just how soft Huaisang's mouth really is.]

[Well, another bumbling attempt at words might have been sweet, but Huaisang more than appreciates being kissed like this. He lets his eyes slip closed and leans up into it, arm curling more snugly around Jiang Cheng's waist. The kiss at the door was excellent, no doubt about that, and this one seems just as likely to melt his heart on the spot.

So that's nice. He can notice the details this time, the faint taste of the liquor from the banquet on Jiang Cheng's lips, the fingers curling in his hair as he leans down. Two weeks, Huaisang realizes dimly, might just kill him.

He'll go out on a high note, then, kiss Jiang Cheng soft like this and then again, affection welling up in him and threatening to spill over, everywhere—

Who knew that he could still feel vulnerable, after all this time? Who knew that he would enjoy it? Huh! But he's not the open book here, so—]

A-Cheng, you're pulling my hair.

[Just for that, he tugs a little bit more, as much a rebuke as a tease.]

You don't want me to pull your hair?

[God, that's the smoothest thing he's ever said in his life, and it's only because he's used to being sarcastic with Huaisang.]</small

[Jiang Cheng, good god, what happened to the endearing bumbling? Huaisang doesn't not want him to pull his hair, but ah... right this second? He leans away from Jiang Cheng's hand, which is just toward his chest, and look? Does this pull his hair that much more? Maybe so, do not @ him.]

I don't know— [he do tho] I didn't say that.

[But babe, do you know what you're doing? Hmm.]

[Hit him with those #intimacyfeels and he'll go back to bumbling in a hot second. Actually, keep pushing just a tiny bit and he'll go back to not knowing what he's doing, because seriously: that was about all the game he had.]

Then stop complaining.

[He's really very deft in how he ignores the hypocrisy. Slumping down, he tips his head back, moving so they can both sort of lie together: Huaisang with his head against his chest, and Jiang Cheng staying very still.

It's not that he isn't enjoying it. He very much is, because there's something remarkable about this moment. All of it, every piece. The steady warmth of Huaisang's body, curled in to fit against his own, the weight of him a comfortable burden against his chest. There's a hint of frost in the air, a chill that Jiang Cheng normally despises, but here and now, it makes for a lovely contrast: just enough cold to make him really appreciate Huaisang's body, his arm wrapped around him and Huaisang's hand against his hip, the two of them enjoying the silence together. Almost experimentally, he presses his lips together, savoring the pleasant ache that earns.

There's nothing to do, nowhere to be . . . no one to be, save for themselves. The nights are always worst, night terrors leaving him dreading sleep, but for once, Jiang Cheng thinks he could grow to enjoy them.

When was the last time he had a peaceful moment like this? He can't remember. It's perfect, honestly: like a song, each individual factor adding up to something greater than the whole. Or it would be perfect, anyway, if it weren't for the discordant note screeching in the back of his mind.

Because things like this don't happen to him. They don't-- he doesn't-- this isn't the sort of thing that he does, or receives, or wants (or maybe he just convinced himself that he didn't want it, because it was easier than longing for it and never getting it). Yanli had gotten it, because she was kind and soft and perfect, and Wei Wuxian had, because there is nothing that Wei Wuxian does not beat him to, but he--

It's not romance. He isn't thinking of that. Not sex, either. This-- this, right here, this moment, this fragile perfection where his mind isn't racing and his soul isn't screaming, where the person pressed against him wants nothing more than to linger, stay, spend an entire fortnight with him, just because they want to. Because they look at him and they think yes, him, he's the one, he's the best, I want no one other than him.

Because he looks at him like that.]

A--

[A-Cheng, he calls him, and yet despite how his heart thumps each time he hears it, he can't return the favor. Not yet. Except he just made a noise, so, er--]

Nothing.

[To Huaisang's credit: he stops complaining. He lets out a little huff, more amused than anything, and settles into this new position Jiang Cheng puts them in without a single protest. There's nothing to complain about, anyway, and that's—

There's nothing to complain about. There's just them, the warmth and the quiet, companionable and pleasant when Huaisang can hardly remember the last time he spent in silence with anyone that wasn't tense, at best. Uncomfortable. Dangerous, even. But Jiang Cheng is a silent presence beneath him and somehow, he's brought with him a comfort and ease Huaisang can't say they've shared before.

Oh, yes, they were friends when they were young— and not poor ones, either, but it's a wonder what being chewed up and pieced poorly back together by adulthood can do to a person. This comfort between them is nostalgic and novel at once, and Huaisang could just about let him carry him through until morning.

There's nothing to complain about! The sheer marvel of it! Absently he curls his fingers against Jiang Cheng's hip, not flirtatious, just— to do it. Because it's comforting to hold and be held. And he's thinking about that and how it would be just fine to fall asleep like this when Jiang Cheng goes and fumbles his way through one and a half words, and ah, right. This place he's laid his affections is still, impossibly, a bit of a loser.]

Hmm?

[A-Chennnng, say something sweet to him. He'll wait two weeks if he must.]

It's never 'nothing' with you.

[Does he say it now? Impossibly, the prompting helps, but then again, it's always easier to be pushed off a cliff than take that final step yourself (ah, perhaps that's a bad metaphor to use). But then again: shouldn't such a thing be noteworthy? Momentous? Doesn't it cheapen it if he just blurts it out?

On the other hand, Huaisang had just gone ahead and done it, so it's possible he's overthinking this. Or-- no, wait, he definitely is.]

I was going to tell A-Sang not to fall asleep, because I don't want to put up with his snoring.

[There, that's the best of neither world, a Jiang Cheng specialty: sentiment crouched in gruffness.]

Edited (tmw u gotta keep track via icons of two distinct and different canons that definitely aren't the same thing at all) 2020-03-26 02:06 (UTC)

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hey did you want a novel about jc's issues

yes and always

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