dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

[Oh, that's adorable and only makes him laugh again, a half-surprised noise of delight that calms down the longer Jiang Cheng looks at him like that. He works his hand up gently into Jiang Cheng's hair, holding him close like this. It's comfortable...]

I didn't catch you looking at me at all!

[Clearly a self-burn and not the equally true but marginally harsher, "you're not a very subtle person??" Huaisang adores him, but he's not. Not at all. He thinks for a moment, then-]

Ah— then, that time we had drinks and fell asleep together...?

[And like a hundred other times, but god!]

Yes.

[It's gruff, but not grudging, as he tips his head into Huaisang's hand. That time they got drunk and fell asleep together, yes, but also:]

When you were showing me how to paint. [He won't admit he still has that fan.] When I rowed you around the river. When you gave me your pin, A-Sang.

[Huaisang looks sheepish, despite himself; he's overjoyed, true, but each one of these memories surfaces fresh in his mind as Jiang Cheng says them and he feels... what? Guilty that he didn't notice? His own feelings stewing for years and years he's been able to handle, but the idea of Jiang Cheng waiting and watching him for all that time is... a lot.

So he tilts his face up and kisses him slow and sweet, first. They've both wanted this and there isn't any point in pretending otherwise now, and yet. Mm.]

I almost thought the pin would be showing my hand... [but! Nope! Both dense! Moving on.]

... When you scolded me in battle, and came back to Qinghe...

[Ah. He pauses for a few moments, not so much freezing as simply going still.]

Are you asking me, or telling me?

[He's fine either way, frankly. His heart is beating giddily, still not quite accepting that this is really happening. But-- ah, a thought occurs, and he adds:]

. . . what I did that night wasn't because I'm-- because of this. I would have done that anyway.

[He hums; a little bit of both? Kissing Jiang Cheng is a lot more straightforward than involuntarily remembering the past couple years with a fresh new perspective. They were at Cloud Recesses and Jiang Cheng wanted to kiss him; at Qinghe and Jiang Cheng wanted... well, and so on and so on.]

I know, I know. [...That said,] But you stuck me to this pillar because of this.

[Just saying. They can circle back to that later. Huaisang looks at him a moment in silence after that, heart full and head empty, for sure. Well then, how about a meaningful echo--]

I want to be where you are, Ji- [no, no-] A-Cheng.

[He swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly gone dry. Oh, and hearing that is a little like fracturing: not falling to pieces, but rather cracking into hairline fractures, leaving him at an utter loss.]

So stay.

[I want to be where you are, and the words echo for reasons he can't quite place. Later he'll think of it, when it's dark and (god, he hopes this is what will happen) he's holding Huaisang close, yes, he'll think of it.]

You're here for six more weeks. Why not longer than that?

[So stay, like it's the easiest thing in the world, like Huaisang can pack up his life at Qinghe and stay here with Jiang Cheng forever, make Lotus Pier his home and his brother's house the one he visits at the end of summers.

But then, he thinks. Will anyone stop him? In six weeks the only person he'll owe an explanation to is Mingjue, so—]

Okay. [Hmm, and the details come later like everything else, because,] Can we go back inside now...?

[He's well past the point of tolerating the water, he is a prune, please carry him to bed and love his wrinkles.]

[Huaisang will feel how he tenses up, the little electric jolt that leaves him pausing for half a second.]

Two minutes ago you were really happy to be pushed up against this pillar. Don't be ungrateful . . .

[That's grumbling just to grumble; he steps back, still carrying Huaisang, heading for a walkway. He'll put him down to grab their clothes, of course, but please admire that he is fully capable of carrying him down the pier. Is he not magnificent? Is he not really hot? Pad his ego in ways he can handle, babe.

By some miracle, they manage to make it to their robes and back to his rooms without running into anyone (or at least, if anyone sees them, they know damn well not to say anything). They speak, but it's irrelevant; it isn't until he closes the door behind them that he feels a weight settle on his shoulders once more.]

. . . we don't have to talk about it immediately, you know.

[Should they? Yes. But they could also keep making out in bed, so . . . scales hands.]

[Yes, yes, he's stunning, a splendid specimen that would have Huaisang weak in the knees if he were on his feet. He says something to that effect in the idle chatter that fills the air until they get back to the privacy of Jiang Cheng's rooms, and listen— they will talk. They will.

But wearing these went pants is the worst feeling in the world outside of the water, and so Huaisang has already deposited his dry robes somewhere safe like a little side table and is on a mission to spot something not soaking wet he can put on when Jiang Cheng offers him this convenient out. They don't have to talk about it, no, but Huaisang has believed for years that any affection he might have gotten from Jiang Cheng was just coincidence, and now that he's been thoroughly proven wrong...

He shakes his head.]

No, let's talk about it. First... [hm, there are things he has to say regardless, starting with--] I love you.

[He smells like a lake, his hair is a mess, please give him dry pants and process that.]

[Oh, well then, well then, they're just leaping right into it, aren't they? Thank god he's halfway to getting Huaisang some new pants or else they'd go through round two of Jiang Cheng short-circuiting.]

Oh.

[He says it stupidly, standing there with a set of spare robes, his eyes focused on nothing. It feels as though everything is happening too quickly for him to comprehend; he loves him? And yet only a moment ago they'd been kissing beneath the pier, they'd stumbled into discovering the precise nature of this thing between them--

It's not as if Jiang Cheng hadn't offered his own statement. Stay, he'd commanded, or asked, or maybe even pleaded, but that's different. Actions are easy; words, however . . . he has such a hard time with words. He can make a gesture, but to actually say those words out loud . . . oh, that's so much harder.]

Uh--

[Robes. Robes, right, and he returns to Huaisang, thrusting his hand forward pointedly, all the while not taking his eyes off his face.

Are you sure? is on the tip of his tongue.]

That . . . I don't understand.

[Bear with him. For what it's worth: he returns the sentiment. He returns it so strongly that it doesn't occur to him Huaisang might not realize that. Of course he loves him back, of course he does-- who wouldn't? It's Jiang Cheng who's the wild card here. Third favorite child, second favorite son, eternally caught between spiteful praise and scorn from his mother, and now they're dead, and he'll never prove himself to them. He's too blunt, too harsh, too slow, overspilling with bad traits and mediocre on the things that matter. On good days, he likes himself, he does, and he's arrogant in certain areas, but . . .

It's asking a lot to buy that Huaisang isn't just in love with him, but has been for quite some time now. Like loving the sun, knowing you're nothing more than a distant star.]

[Well... so he has his work cut out for him, huh? Huaisang can't say that confused staring is his ideal scenario, the number one thing he'd like to get in return for telling Jiang Cheng that he loves him and has for however long— definitely not. But... oh.

Because Huaisang doesn't understand the reverse, that Jiang Cheng wouldn't get it or wouldn't believe it or- or whatever. He's never been without love; his parents loved him, his brother loves him more than anything else, hell— even Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao spoil him, if only because of Mingjue's influence. He is a pampered, spoiled second son, and it has never once crossed his mind that he might not be worthy of love.

But that's what this is, right? Huaisang takes the robes and sort of... turns to the side in the most basic pretense of having any modesty at all before he starts to dress, and oh, Jiang Cheng really, literally doesn't understand, huh...? Huaisang has eyes; he's always known that Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian push sibling competition to the limit, or at least one of them does. How much deeper does it go?

Well, let him get some dry pants on and stick at least one arm through the fresh robe before he hums and tries to get through this... thing.]

Hmm, I like you, [he says, which isn't a downgrade of his feelings but a point for context; they spend a lot of time together these days and he enjoys it, enjoys being around Jiang Cheng even if the context is maybe odd or uncomfortable or literally a battlefield.] Is that strange?

[Ah, don't-- don't answer that. Huaisang could give him a list; Jiang Cheng is headstrong and passionate and has never once treated him like being, frankly, a shit cultivator makes him tiring or embarrassing. That's nice! Jiang Cheng has always been good to him, always put in the effort to be good to him...

Hmm. He tugs the robe closed and looks at Jiang Cheng, head tilted, considering him. Maybe he's trying to get dressed or not, but Huaisang shuffles over to stand in front of him and reach up both hands to cup his face. Hi, hey. How are those issues.]

Sect Leader Jiang is a good man, and A-Cheng is always there for me... Lotus Pier is beautiful because of you. [He never saw it burned, but-] I love you and I'm proud of you, for... all of this.

[He's getting a little off topic, but a laundry list of the things he likes about Jiang Cheng separately could be refuted by, say, someone who's grumpy and has low self esteem... The objective fact is Huaisang loves and admires him for things that have real, tangible results. Just look around! Damn!

So, hmm. How are we feeling...]

[There's only so many times he can freak out, thank god. Huaisang's words don't make him stall out, not the way they did before, but there's an almost mechanical quality to the way he moves: jerkily donning new pants, half-heartedly putting on a new robe, glancing away only to give Huaisang a bit of privacy as he dresses.

He stills, though, as Huaisang comes over. Cups his face and says those impossible things so easily, like it's fact instead of something out of his most self-indulgent fantasies. You're important to me, the most steadying, soothing presence in his life says. You're good, you're important, you've done well, and thank god he has a sliver of self-control, because it takes everything in him not to collapse.

He's silent for a few seconds, taking a moment to collect himself. Listens to the noises around them: the quiet lap of water against the pier beneath them and around them, a sound so familiar he barely hears it anymore. Their breathing, Huaisang's softer and a little faster, his own more ragged than he'd like. One hand rises, covering Huaisang's, a quiet bit of affection and an urging to stay where he is all at once.]

You're ridiculous . . .

[But it's soft, less a disagreement and more because he genuinely has no idea how to handle this level of praise. A mess! He's a mess! But at least a mess that's trying. Jiang Cheng inhales sharply--

--and then all at once darts in, hands cupping Huaisang's jaw, turning his face up so he can kiss him. It's hard and heated, a searing kiss that isn't meant to be returned. It's a message, not a prologue to anything amorous-- but actions are so much easier than words, and maybe if he pours his all into this kiss, maybe if he does it just right, it will do the talking for him.

He's panting when he pulls back, and stays close, murmuring rapidfire against his mouth like that will make it easier. Maybe it does. Maybe saying it quietly will stop the world from hearing it, and so maybe he'll be able to keep this perfect thing for a little longer.]

I've wanted to kiss you since Gusu. You have no idea . . . you were so annoying, A-Sang, all the time. Grabbing my arm, dragging me around to market vendors, acting like I should have an opinion on what you wore or bought . . . and god, god, late at night, when you'd-- you'd show us all the literature you'd smuggled in, and I couldn't look at you, because then you'd know. You'd sit there going on and on about why this one was your favorite, why you thought one was better than the other, about all kinds of positions and-- and fucking artistic quality, you wouldn't shut up, A-Sang. [His voice is strangled, because really: that was the best kind of hell for him.]

. . . but I think I've lo-- [God, fuck, and he takes a breath.] I think I've loved you since Qinghe, after the war began.

[When he collapsed into a pile of snot and tears all over Huaisang's robes, remember that babe? Because while he's cried in front of others (who hasn't?), never like that. Never so weakly, pathetically, buckling under the pressure of being forced into a war and shoved into a commanding position. Huaisang has the unique ability to bare his soul: to sweep away all the chaos and rage and grief, and gently touch upon what fragile bits remain. He seeks out Jiang Cheng's heart so easily, holding it in the palm of his hand, and it would be so easy for him to break it, but instead he does nothing but nurture it.]

You're talented and clever and kind. I don't know how everyone isn't in love with you.

[Ah, and that's better for sure— a heated kiss that takes him by surprise, leaving him more than a little breathless and wide-eyed while Jiang Cheng... tells him how annoying he was in school. It's fine, it's beyond fine, Huaisang laughs quietly at the first "you were so annoying," winding his arms around Jiang Cheng's shoulders and holding him close like this. Snug and affectionate, for this beautiful recollection of his shameless school days...

He'll have to get his filthy literature from Qinghe before Mingjue goes through his things and finds it, he notes idly. Soon, soon, and then it's really over for Jiang Cheng ever having a minute of peace. It'll be fun!]

Who knows, [he says eventually, because really, does it matter what other people think of him? He's never cared before, and since Jiang Cheng loves him, what on earth would be the point of paying attention to other people now?

No point at all! Besides, he's sooo annoying...]

You're complaining that I took you to the market when you kept demanding I agree with you, that I look better in purple?

[Okay, so it was once, but it was very vehement. He knew Jiang Cheng cared about his fashion all along, which is totally the intended takeaway from this.]

You're too picky, A-Cheng.

That's different.

[Let him fucking live? He's still vibrating from the enormity of that confession, stop gently roasting him.

Just kidding, this is exactly what he needs. Normalcy, with Huaisang acting as though Jiang Cheng hasn't ruined everything in just a few words. He leans lightly against him, aware his expression is absolutely not masking any of his relief and joy right now.]

It wasn't about the color.

[A beat, and he glances at him pointedly, his gaze, hm, a little more possessive than before. Huaisang's neck is still reddened, little bitemarks that claim him, and he likes that too.]

You look better when you're dressed in my clothes, A-Sang.

I can't wear your clothes forever.

[In private, sure, if that's what Jiang Cheng is into, how lucky: Huaisang is into it too. He gives him a crooked little smirk, somewhere between giddy from all of this and, as usual, goading— go ahead and give him that look, sir. In fact, do it some more.]

You'll just have to get me my own. Will you put up a fight if I have some embroidery put on?

[The Jiang purple is classy, sure, and Huaisang parading around in all purple should probably wait until they've settled— and he writes a very long letter to Mingjue, but know that he is serious about the custom touches.]

[He makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh, amused and fondly irritated all at once. Later-- not too much later, but not now-- all the old anxieties will creep in, but for now, this is perfect.]

Of course I will. They've got enough embroi--

[--oh. Hm. An idea strikes at him, suddenly and sharply. Huaisang has gotten him two things over the course of their . . . whatever this is. Courtship. Whatever. The point is: he's gotten him things, and sooner or later he'll get him another, and it's far past time Jiang Cheng returns the favor.

And he knows exactly what it ought to be.]

. . . they've got enough decoration. What do you need more for?

[Is he distracted? A little. He reaches for Huaisang's hand, squeezing it once, before pushing lightly at him.]

Hey. Go sit on the bed.

[Not for that, but because he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't do this right the fuck now.]

[Huaisang scoffs, because Jiang fashion is plain compared to the amount of unnecessary intricate details he prefers. The rest of Qinghe is even plainer, honestly no one can give Huaisang a run for his money except the Jins and yellow is ugly, so whatever—]

They don't. I'll think of something.

[As if the problem is his lack of ideas, ha. He'll be doodling embroidery designs for the next week, rest assured. But as he's now being directed elsewhere—]

You won't convince me otherwise, you know.

[Just! Saying! He obliges, hand lingering on Jiang Cheng's cheek as he steps back and then moves to settle on the bed. He's just sitting there, but there's an expected degree of modesty while sitting on someone else's bed that he has already thrown out the proverbial window. So! What's this, then!]

Attempt the impossible.

[Drawled out over his shoulder as he goes to his closet. Hmm . . . it takes him a long few moments.]

Besides: what even do you want to add? Flowers? The Nie clan symbol?

[It's funny how they bicker, like Jiang Cheng isn't going to give Huaisang literally anything and everything he asks for. But-- ah, and he returns, something held tightly in the palm of one hand. Sits next to him, pleased at how close he can get, pleased at how Huaisang looks perched on his bed.]

Here.

[All petty arguments side, he knows-- he knows-- Huaisang can't just up and don another clan's garments. But he can at least wear a token, if not atop his robes than perhaps hidden beneath them.

So: a bell, the nine-petal lotus carved delicately into the silver metal. They're technically for disciples only, or those who marry into the clan, but . . . well. He had just declared his love for Huaisang. Besides: he's clan leader. Who exactly is going to call him out on it if they manage to realize?]

It's-- I mean-- just take it. It's for you.

I'll have your name stitched across the back.

[Like a varsity jacket, which Huaisang has just invented as a joke to bother the love of his life right this second. He leans back on his hands, watching Jiang Cheng with an amused expression, very clearly believing himself the funniest person alive.

But, oh— oh, and his expression softens as he lifts a hand to brush his fingers against the silver. Ah, that's...]

A-Cheng... Really?

[No takebacks, he already has it, it's his now!! But he's not a disciple, which makes him... hmm! He holds the bell up to look at it closely, smiling softly before he glances at Jiang Cheng again. Then he shifts back further from the edge of the bed, arm held out for somebody to get over here.]

Come here.

[Let it be known: he absolutely huffs at that joke, it is stupid easy to rile him up.

Thank god, he's saved from having to say anything else. In an instant he's shifted, ducking beneath Huaisang's arm to settle against him. His head on his chest, gently rising and falling, as he throws an arm over his hip. His fingers slide gently against the curve there, thumbing at the jut of his bone.]

Yes, really. You're . . .

[Mm.]

You're mine. Of course really.

[That's his man, always ready to get riled. Huaisang fidgets with the bell one-handed, to loop it around the thin belt of his borrowed robe. Just to leave both his hands free for Jiang Cheng; it's not an especially artful fumble with the thing, but he gets it eventually, newly empty hand drifting to run through Jiang Cheng's still damp hair soon after.

Hmm. He's sweet. To think, this is the same Jiang Cheng who threatened to break some disciples' knees just this morning.]

You should keep my pin, then. I'll give it to you again in the morning.

[He hums softly, tipping his head up eagerly into those fingers. More of that always, please and thank you, if only for the way he squirms on the bed.]

I was going to steal it either way.

[He'd certainly thought about it, anyway. Hey, what if they just lie here all night like this? It's the most relaxed he's felt in ages.]

Does it--

[Does it mean I'm yours, he absolutely cannot ask.]

. . . I have a meeting tomorrow. I'll be meeting with the minor sects all day, and it'll take all day because nobody knows how to agree on literally anything.

So make sure you give it to me by morning.

[Use context clues, Jiang Cheng, damn. Huaisang clicks his tongue, pityingly, but still--]

I've never been happier to be a second son. It's bad enough when I have to sit behind my brother at every conference...

[Horrid! Work, ew, so sorry you have to do that, babe. Huaisang can and will lie here all night and do this until they fall asleep, though, so that's a solid plan.]

But I'll remember! I'll eve put your hair up for you.

[The important thing is that he's going to wear Huaisang's token, and though nobody else might notice, he'll know. He twists, rolling over so he can face Huaisang, adjusting so he's a little more atop Huaisang.]

Mm. Be careful. I'll get you to do it every morning if you will.

[Which sure is a phrase, but for the first time, he doesn't panic over whether Huaisang will read too much into it. He hadn't meant to flirt, but on the other hand, he's not going to take it back.

Instead: though his face flushes, he stares up at Huaisang pointedly. He refuses to take it back. Besides: Huaisang was the one who said he'd show him how to do something a thousand times back in school.]

Edited 2020-04-08 03:32 (UTC)

[Ah, every morning... Huaisang blinks at him, thinking about it; every morning with Jiang Cheng, a morning routine with Jiang Cheng, taking that request that he stay from earlier and nixing the end to that entirely. Just staying here and doing Jiang Cheng's hair every morning, and like— everything else that comes with that kind of domesticity.

...It's nice. No— it's goddamn perfect, and for a moment Huaisang can let himself drift away on the fantasy of skipping ahead to that, past the bumbling tentativeness and lurking question of what their respective places in the world mean for the, ah... for how overt they can be, more or less. Because he loves Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng loves him, and so Huaisang allows himself to think that a quiet domestic life is a matter of when and not if.

That said. Logistically speaking.]

Do you want to get married? Ah— eventually, I mean.

[Look! People get married for less! This is fine.]

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a fucking NOVEL

delicious. 10/10

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