dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

[The real, honest truth is that there will never be a time when it isn't ridiculously easy for Huaisang to seduce Jiang Cheng. So there's no real urgency in it happening tonight, which is just as well, because those kisses and nothing more are well worth it.]

Okay.

[It's soft. Surprisingly, maybe alarmingly so. But there's something kind of wonderful about that kind of directness. Not an order, exactly, but at the same time . . . he settles a little, his fingers stroking through Huaisang's hair.]

Okay . . .

[Okay, so maybe he'll just lean up to kiss him again, quietly delighted that he's starting to know the patterns already. Huaisang likes to tip his head like that, and he pushes just softly enough that Jiang Cheng always wants to chase after him, making it firmer-- and so he does, not so much lustful as hungry for affection. He likes the way Huaisang feels; he likes the way he tastes, the soft, slightly shaky exhales he gives when Jiang Cheng falls back, panting softly. The flush on his cheeks, the way his expression is soft but not uncertain, not anymore, not now that it's all over and done with.

Two weeks. It's as much a reminder to himself as anything: no matter how frightened he grows of losing this, he at least has two weeks to have it.

Are they going to make out for the rest of the night? Probably. That doesn't seem like such a bad plan, though.]

[It's a fantastic plan, incidentally, and it makes for a good night after a day of stress and, well— a lifetime of stress before. It's not perfect because they aren't, but they hinge together in just enough places to make something work.

And so. Two weeks.

Two weeks means fluttering his fan and making some excuses to dismiss half of his entourage, keeping only a handful of disciples here to mingle with the Jiang disciples and teach them a thing or two, something he quips just once and watches the fireworks from for days afterwards. It means, somehow, still doing work and even more than usual, as the fact that two Sect Leaders are still in the same place makes them a beacon for the needy and downtrodden lower sects. Two weeks is exhausting.

But two weeks is something else entirely, the electric feeling Huaisang gets when Jiang Cheng runs his fingers from the back of his neck all the way to the base of his spine; the thrill of cornering him in a hallway somewhere and pulling him down to kiss, listening to him protest every time and, every time, sigh against his lips and melt into it. Two weeks is nostalgia, good and bad, laughing over wine after meals and waking in a cold sweat in the dead of night only to find Jiang Cheng's arm wrapped tight around him in unspoken understanding. It's the almost cautious exploration of the limits of intimacy, a touch here and a soft word spoken there, to try on the shape of the thing before committing to it properly.

It feels like longer than two weeks. A day or so before the "end" of all this they're on a walk at dusk, and when Huaisang slips his arm through Jiang Cheng's and rests his head on his shoulder, he can't imagine anyone else he would rather be with. So. That answers the hanging question, he supposes.

On the afternoon of the day itself, he realizes he's been wasting time. They've both been doing it, he's sure, which is why they've hardly seen each other since the early morning. He's sitting on the floor at a low table in the same main hall they'd held Jin Ling's banquet in, not reading the report in front of him at all and watching Jiang Cheng pace around the other end of the room. Sooner or later Qinghe will need him back, at least for a little while, and either he packs his things and leaves at dawn with nothing but the cold to look forward to, or—

Hmm. He sighs, because first things first,]

A-Cheng, you're making me dizzy, going back and forth like that.

Then don't watch.

[He can't stop pacing. If he stops pacing, he'll have to sit, and he can't sit, because he's far too restless for that. Pacing is the best he can do. He'd already tried to get rid of it this morning, going through training exercise after training exercise until his body screamed in protest, and still it hadn't helped.

But at least he stops short for a few seconds, staring sharply at Huaisang.]

What else would you have me do?

Anything else in the world if you'll stop doing that, [he says with a gesture at Jiang Cheng's everything, and it sounds like a joke but he really means it. Please relax.

Or, well, please approximate relaxation as much as possible. He knows it's hard. He knows they're going to keep quipping at each other like the end of their little arrangement isn't on the horizon because the alternative is also hard. As if it isn't a situation of their own making... whatever!!]

Come read these reports for me if you're going to pace.

I don't want to read reports.

[But with that said: he strides forward, lifting his robes and kneeling down across from him, each movement begrudging and not at all personal. Sometimes . . . he is no better than Jin Ling, and how sad is that.

But he's not petulant because of Huaisang, and thank god the other man knows him well enough to know that.

He picks up a report. He scowls down at it. And for at least fifteen minutes, there's blessed silence. He's gotten better at paperwork over the years, knowing which letters need paying mind and which he can dismiss. Complaints about nothing, neighborly squabbles . . . at least running a sect is the same all over.

You can put it off another week, he wants to say. Or: I can visit, it isn't insurmountable. Or maybe he wants something sharper, something that will sever this, because then he'll still hurt but at least he'll have burnt the bridge, and so his stupid heart can't hope in longing desperation.

But he won't do that anymore. He can't.]

There's nothing pressing here.

[There's nothing you have to leave for.]

[What an impressive family trait, this tendency to project even the slightest difficult emotion like it's the worst thing in the world. Huaisang hums as Jiang Cheng comes to sit, and mercifully doesn't continue to stare at him for the full fifteen minutes. He does glance, though, watching Jiang Cheng the Sect Leader up close; he knows Jiang Cheng's frown and the precise amount of kisses it takes to melt it away, the near-permanence of the furrow in his brow...

Mm, no. He doesn't think he can leave Jiang Cheng even if he had to, at this point. He's tasted happiness and comfort here, things he never had time for when Jin Guangyao still drew breath; what kind of fool would turn away from that?

So. Nothing pressing, the man says, which Huaisang can only answer with,] I didn't think so.

[An agreement on the most basic level, if nothing else; yes, yes, he will actually have to go make sure his house is in order, but does he want to? Nope!

But while this circular half-invitation to stay a while longer eases the tension in his shoulders some, there comes a point in life where an adult must actually be an adult, and so:]

You could come with me to Qinghe anyway.

[Ah, and see, here's the thing: Lotus Pier burned down over a decade ago, but there will always, always be a part of him terrified that when he leaves, it'll be to return to nothing but ashes and corpses.

Which hasn't stopped him from leaving in the past, of course. But still: it means he hesitates, balking at the thought of leaving for something so mundane as pleasure.]

I can't stay for too long.

[But he can stay a while, especially if he prepares. Loathe as he is to trust leadership to anyone but himself, he does have a few people he trusts to run Lotus Pier in his absence. And if there's anything urgent, he'll know. They'll find a way to communicate to him, and Huaisang won't begrudge him for running. And likely nothing will happen . . .

And the thought of a few more weeks of this is so tempting right now.]

. . . people will talk.

[Does he mind? A bit. Not as much as he would have, once, but still. It's a factor to consider.]

[It isn't the enthusiastic yes one hopes to hear when their, uh... when the man they... look, it's not the answer he'd like, but it's one he understands. Enough nights spent holding tight to Jiang Cheng to give him some measure of comfort the way it's done for him mean he doesn't have to ask; it's not a passion for meetings and paperwork that call Jiang Cheng back to Lotus Pier over and over. Huaisang has heard what Jiang Cheng mumbles in the dark; the daylight doesn't change it.

But even a little while is worth celebrating, so he's smiling slightly when he says,] I know.

[And then, because people are most certainly already talking but that information might boil Jiang Cheng's brain--]

It's not unheard of to visit an old friend.

[He leans forward on his elbows, chin propped in one hand.]

I want to say "another two weeks," but my feelings for you can't wait that long.

[So let's Talk About Feelings.]

[To his credit, he doesn't immediately cut and run, so hooray for Jiang Cheng. But he does hesitate, just a little, his heart skipping in terror at the thought of something approaching feelings.

But he'll be an adult about this. Two weeks spent together means he's far more comfortable in reaching over the table and taking Huaisang's other hand, rubbing his thumb lightly against the back of his hand.]

These past two weeks have been . . . peaceful. Calm.

[He says it slowly, glancing down at their hands.]

And I don't want them to stop. I don't know . . . I don't know what feelings I have, but I know it's easier when you're there.

[Hmm, delicate... marry him at once. Huaisang gives his hand a light squeeze, encouraging; feelings are the worst topic in the world, he knows, but this is a good start.]

I don't know how long it will take me to get to sleep if you're not there.

[He chuckles when he says it, like it's a joke, but there's more than a crumb of earnestness in it. It is easier with Jiang Cheng there, like a balm to cover everything else about them that's still broken.]

Back then, before... I never wanted to stay at someone's side. [Not, like, for real anyway.] Now I want it to be yours.

[God. God, he just says thing like that, things that reach into the deepest, ugliest parts of him and make him shudder for how easily it's done. He has to glance down again, his fingers gripping him tightly.]

Don't say things like that.

[It's too much for his heart. It's too much for him to believe right now, after only two weeks-- but it's more than two weeks, isn't it? It's years. It's decades, now, and when had they gotten so old? But the point is: Huaisang knows exactly who he is. He knows, and somehow, impossibly, he's still saying that.]

You don't--

[God.]

Don't say such things unless you mean them, A-Sang.

[Huaisang picks his chin up off his hand, watching Jiang Cheng carefully as he looks away. Does he mean this? Of course he does, he's left all of his facades behind at his brother's grave, so of course he means this.

In fairness to Jiang Cheng, the abruptness with which he knows it, down to his bones, surprises Huaisang as well. But it makes sense, the two of them make sense— neither of them has ever had any reason to be someone else for the other's sake.

He wrinkles a few reports in his haste to push himself halfway to kneeling and lean across the table, hand cupping Jiang Cheng's cheek with a strange mixture of tenderness and certainty. Yes, a hundred times yes, he knows what he's doing.]

It's you, A-Cheng. Don't you think I know what I want by now?

[Of course he knows what he's saying; he's no fool, and he never has been. Careless, maybe, when they were children, but never foolish. Never nearly so helpless and uncertain as he'd pretended to be. Of course he knows what he's saying.

But it hurts to hear. Isn't that odd? Words he's craved so desperately all his life, words that he's lacked . . . it's like he was born with a hole in the midst of him, a gaping wound that he's grown used to bearing. Any kind of change to it, even to heal it, seems overwhelming.

What if you change your mind? Oh, how pathetic, but the terror has gripped his heart. What if Huaisang comes to his senses? What if he looks at him and finds that he's not good enough? Just like everyone, just like everyone, his mother and his father and Yanli and even Wei Ying, all of them looking at him and, if not deciding he was lacking, at least deciding he just wasn't good enough. And now Jin Ling is gone, and he can't, he cannot bear to gain and lose someone else, he just can't.

Or at least: that's how it feels. It isn't so coherent as that in his mind. Just a stark terror that leaves his heart thudding painfully in his chest, sweat springing suddenly on his palms, his face pale even as it's tipped up so impossibly gently.]

I barely know what I want some days.

[Which isn't a rejection. Just as much as he can manage before he darts forward, bumping their foreheads together, kissing him just once, his eyes closing.]

Stay at my side. Let me stay at yours.

[Huaisang doesn't say anything at first, heart pounding in his ears; Jiang Cheng has left him breathless, but not the way he has before, no, there's something more excruciating about this. It's ridiculous, he thinks, because to kiss him like that and say what he does is exactly what Huaisang wants, and that's—

Still, some part of him aches. Some part of him fights back against being vulnerable and close to anyone again, but Jiang Cheng isn't a liar, or a traitor. Jiang Cheng is like him, offering up this part of himself knowing full well that Huaisang could shatter it on a whim.

So he's quiet, tugging his other hand away from Jiang Cheng's to wrap both arms around his shoulders and bury his face against his neck. Alright— here they are. There are details to work out, how much time they can have that's truly theirs on top of the rest of their responsibilities, of course. Later.]

You can. I will.

[There, that's settled, at least. He can breathe a little easier, even if he isn't ready to let go of Jiang Cheng yet. So, again,]

Let's go to Qinghe. Just for a little while, I promise.

Yeah.

[He tries to think of all the things he has to do now if they're to depart in the morning, he really does. But his brain stutters once, twice, and then gives up on thinking of business completely for the moment. Huaisang is warm against him, and he buries his face against him, closing his eyes and gripping his robes tightly.]

Send the rest of your disciples back tomorrow. We'll leave in the afternoon.

[So they're close enough Huaisang isn't effectively abandoning his men, but on the other hand, it's not as if he'd be able to defend them much anyway. And this way, they can travel together on their own.]

You still remember how to make a camp, right?

[That's actually kind of teasing, as he pulls back to meet his eye.]

[How does it feel to be immediately dumped, Jiang Cheng? Or no, certainly not, but Huaisang still makes a face at him like he does not need this right now, damn!]

I remember when we were at Cloud Recesses and you told me I wasn't allowed to eat if I didn't figure out how to put up a tent.

[And he whined, and floundered for a while, and Wei Wuxian helped him put up his tent before claiming he needed to take payment for it and refusing to share his smuggled wine— You know, normal teen memories. He huffs, close to laughing, and noses against Jiang Cheng's cheek before kissing the corner of his mouth. A camping trip together... alright.]

Is that still your rule?

Mm, yes.

[He nudges the table out of the way, finally, just so he can shift forward and more or less pull Huaisang near to him. Not quite in his lap, but at least they can smooch without it being too awkward. And he can tug at the end of his hair lightly, just once.]

But if you're hopeless, maybe I'll give you some help.

[Wow, Sect Leader Jiang, how shameless. Huaisang settles in close to him anyway, dropping his arms to wrap around Jiang Cheng's waist instead, more comfortably. Any passing disciple can see this, but ask him to care... he simply does not.]

I'm a professional head-shaker, A-Cheng.

[Which, alright, Jiang Cheng can see right through him, but still!!]

I don't know how to put up a tent, I really don't...!

[In an instant both hands fly up, catching Huaisang's cheeks between his palms to stop him from shaking his head even a bit.]

You don't get to use that excuse anymore.

[Crisply stated. If they're going to make this work, that's the rule. He releases him, though not without a small Look.]

Ask me nicely on the road and I'll consider it.

[Surely there is a better way to impress this upon him— but alright, alright. He hums and puts his head down on Jiang Cheng's shoulder instead, not a shake in sight.]

I won't lie to you, A-Cheng. Never to you.

[He means it, so take that sincerity before a different, lamer kind of sincerity, because how often does his pampered ass go camping these days? Like never, ergo:]

I did forget how to put up a tent, though.

[Ah . . . and whatever else he was about to say is suddenly swept from his mind in a blissful, blank wave. His fingers smooth through Huaisang's hair, and he sighs softly.]

Ah-- that's fine. I'll-- yeah.

[Will that kind of straightforward affection always work to bowl him over? Honestly, probably.]

Cheater.

I don't know what you mean.

[Oh, but he does. He can be earnest and like this at the same time, so essentially Jiang Cheng is doomed.]

We should make preparations for tomorrow...

[But is he getting up? No.]

We?

[Buddy, there is one person who needs to make preparations here, you've got servants to pack your things. But he does need to talk to a lot of people and write several instructions down, so with a little huff he rolls his shoulder, pushing Huaisang off.]

Go wait for me. I won't be more than an hour or two.

[So cruelly dismissed... Maybe he wants to stand around watching his entourage pack up the, ah, guest room he's spent maybe all of 5 net hours in, in the past two weeks... It's remarkable that Jiang Cheng thinks people don't know about them.

But he sighs like it's the worst thing in the world to be told to go and be lazy, squeezing around Jiang Cheng's waist like maybe he won't— but he has to, and so he gets up at long last.]

Fine, fine. Don't take all evening.

[He's needy and he wants to cuddle, sue him. But alright! He'll wait!]

Edited (don't mind me there was a typo shh) 2020-03-29 05:27 (UTC)

[He tries not to take all evening, but it's not til late that he slips into his room and curls up next to Huaisang. It's fine. He makes it up to him, anyway, his mouth lingering at the crook of his neck, tongue teasing against the bruises he leaves there.

The journey to Qinghe only takes a few days, and god, but they're nice. It's nice to have a solid excuse not to think about anything related to work; nicer still the way they can just be instead of having to worry about things like reputation or deception. It's been so long since he's gotten to be anything but a sect leader.

One night he fends off a ghost or three; it's pleasantly athletic without threatening them in the least, and the way Huaisang eyes him afterwards is a bonus. Tonight-- one day away from Qinghe, if that-- he's caught them a fish for dinner. He even remembered how to debone the damn thing, a task he hasn't bothered to practice since he was twenty, so all in all: a successful trip and surprisingly effective ego boost.

Naturally, then, that he ruins it.

It would've been bad if it was him who twisted his ankle, but no. Of course not. Instead: he bumps into Huaisang, and it's him who steps wrong, whose ankle twists sharply, who falls with a pained cry-- and whose ankle is now swollen and tender, the skin heated beneath Jiang Cheng's probing fingers.]

It's not broken. Just tender for a while.

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