dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

[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.]

[God, warn him before dropping bombs like this. They first kissed an hour ago, what is happening. Jiang Cheng stares up at him with eyes comically wide, frozen for a long few seconds.]

I--

[This might actually kill him.]

Nie Huaisang!

[Is that shocked or disapproving or just overwhelmed? It's hard to say. Maybe he's just panicking.]

[wow]

Jiang Cheng! What?

[Is he going to laugh? He is, he is, of course, but it's unmistakably fond. Please, it's a serious question!!]

I said eventually, not tomorrow!

We just-- you can't just--

[His face is growing redder by the moment.]

Don't say such things on the first night.

Why not?

[Okay, okay— cute, for the record, but he's not just being a little shit at this point. Why not, because—]

I've known you since we were fifteen! [practically infants!!] And I love you, A-Cheng, but I don't think we did any of this the ordinary way in the first place...

[He's only saying. It's just an eventually anyway; would you, Jiang Cheng, take his hand in marriage like conceptually, maybe, at some point??]

Mm.

[It's a grunt that's grumpy acknowledgement: yes, that makes sense, and yes, someday he'll admit to that point, but also, good god, Huaisang. He shifts up, rolling his eyes, so inconvenienced, even as he tucks his head beneath his chin so they can both ignore how he's flushing.]

Yes. Not-- not right now. Or for a while.

[He feels the need to establish that.]

I want to-- to know you like this. It's new. But after some time . . .

[He kisses the side of his throat.]

Yes, A-Sang. I'll marry you.

[Oooh, it's so fun to be engaged, and other mean things Huaisang will say to catch Jiang Cheng off guard starting first thing in the morning. In the morning, because— he's right; this is new, and it's worth exploring in its infancy before putting a marriage on it. Eventually, eventually, in due time— but for now Huaisang is satisfied like this, tipping his head down to kiss the top of Jiang Cheng's, all warmth and silent approval.

Still: let the cultivation world's longest engagement begin.]

I'll consider your token part of your word, and you can take my pin as the same.

[So yes, babe, it does mean:] My A-Cheng.

[Will he be able to feel the heat radiating off Jiang Cheng's face? Probably! But at least this is happy-embarrassed, not horrified-overwhelmed. It's easier to cope with, and means he stays right where he is, pressed up against him.]

Ridiculous . . .

[Soft and tender insults: that's the Jiang way. He tips his head up, nosing pointedly against the crook of his neck, humming as he does.]

Do you like it here? Tell me truly.

[Will he live in Qinghe? No. He can't, frankly. But if Huaisang really does dislike the water, he'll figure out a way to change it. Jin Zixuan bringing Lotus Pier to Carp Tower ain't got nothing on Jiang Cheng's vague terraforming plans.]

[Let him have this, Jiang Cheng. He's controlling himself very pointedly right now instead of teasing this man for his incredibly adorable, incredibly un-Sect-Leader-like behavior, so appreciate that he'll do that much.]

I don't know... [snort] No, I do! I do. Didn't I tell you before?

[Well, he was mostly talking about shopping... He trails fingers through Jiang Cheng's hair and gives the ceiling a thoughtful look; Lotus Pier is... not like Qinghe at all, it's humid and noisy and the people here are friendly but they haven't known him his whole, life or anything— but still.]

The lake is pretty. If I had the right colors, I could paint it... [oooohhh he's gonna!! Will this be his next lavish gift for Jiang Cheng? It just might.] Ah, and it isn't stuffy here, the way it is at Gusu. I'd like to stay here with A-Cheng for a long time.

You did.

[But it's different now that marriage is on the horizon. Everything takes on a new weight now. Huaisang might very well like Lotus Pier as a place to visit, but if he's to eventually become master of it, well. That's different. He has to truly love at least pieces of it, or he'll grow to resent it. And it won't be long before he in turn resents Jiang Cheng for trapping him here, but by then it will be too late, and they'll both be miserable and stuck, and--

And he exhales, slowly but steadily, and nips gently the side of Huaisang's neck just to hear him react.

He'd watched his parents resent each other their whole lives. He can't-- physically cannot-- go through the same thing with his own spouse. But this is only a few hours old, and for once, he wants to be irresponsible.

Tomorrow he'll think of his anxieties. Tomorrow he'll panic about the thousand and one ways it could go wrong; tomorrow he might even tell Huaisang some of those fears. But tonight is for them.

So: he lets it be about them. He rises up, kneeling before his crush-turned-boyfriend-turned-fiancé so he can lean in and kiss him, again and again. He ends up with Huaisang in his lap, which is frankly fantastic, and though they do nothing more than kiss, it's still quite a bit. It's still overwhelming, and long after they're done, he lies in the dark and thinks about his hands on Huaisang's hips, his cheeks all flushed and his eyes glittering, his voice so low as he spoke (and how fast little whines of his name had turned into something more demanding, and how Jiang Cheng had loved that, too).

He's terribly distracted all the next morning, gaze always drifting away, his fingers idly tapping at his mouth. No one notices, surely. Just as they don't notice the way Jiang Cheng leaps to his feet the moment Huaisang shows up, like an overeager dog tripping over its own feet in its excitement. He covers for it immediately, naturally, no one notices, but still.

A few nights pass the same way: hungry kisses and soft words, and the really remarkable thing is how easy it is. How natural spending time with Huaisang is. They settle into an easy rhythm, comfortable enough to let silence fall between them at times, knowing each other well enough not to be in that uncomfortable stage where they can't leave one another alone at times.

It's nearly a week later that he wakes in the middle of the night. Not due to screams, which is his first half-asleep panicked thought, nor the smell of burnt corpses and ash. No, instead: quiet whimpers, soft but undeniable, just loud enough to wake him. Huaisang is faced away from him, curled up tight onto himself. There's only a few inches between them, but still, his hand hesitates before he grips his arm firmly.]

A-Sang . . .

[Soft, first. That's how you wake someone from a nightmare, right? Softly? Ah, but there's another whimper, and those strike at his heart in a way he despises. Nothing should make Huaisang make that noise, even himself, so--]

A-Sang!

[Ah. Too loud. Fuck.]

[It's odd; Huaisang has, quite literally, never taken anything seriously in his life. Oh, there's his art, and the poetry, but he's never made a commitment that meant something to anyone. Someone outside of himself— and now here he is, committing himself to Jiang Cheng, deciding to marry Jiang Cheng, and it's odd how remarkably easy it is to do it. Huaisang wakes up in the mornings to maybe a glimpse of Jiang Cheng on his way out, if he's lucky; a kiss on the forehead that makes him smile, still half-asleep, and it's so, so easy to imagine that this is going to be them from now on. Being together is simple, touching each other is electric and comfortable at the same time; crawling into bed and collapsing on Jiang Cheng's chest after a long day of pretending to listen while Jiang Cheng settles local disputes is the most natural thing in the world.

And yes, there are anxieties. There are fears. Jiang Cheng has more than Huaisang does, after everything, but he listens to Jiang Cheng's quiet murmuring in the dark, hands in his hair and on his back, soothing and present. Neither of them are completely capable people for one reason or another, especially in this, but to love Jiang Cheng is straightforward. He's done it for ages; the messy frustrations can't turn him away now.

So it's strange and wonderful and idyllic, to be here at Lotus Pier. Huaisang could get used to spending every evening in Jiang Cheng's arms, gentle affection becoming more and more heated until one of them is too dizzy with it to go on. It's nice.

And so, naturally, they were due for a bad evening sooner or later. There's no telling what spurs Huaisang's dreams into nightmares; stories the disciples tell in the courtyard, of battle? Cultivators on the fringes of Yunmeng territory arriving run ragged and scared, to report a group of bandits whose filthy robes looked suspiciously like some Wens who'd gotten away? Huaisang wouldn't know; he takes in grim news in the daylight and watches Jiang Cheng, more worried over him than himself.

But in his dreams the battle they'd been in together creeps in, screams and death and blood, and Huaisang is alone this time, and each time he calls out for Jiang Cheng the smoke and stench choke him more and more. He trips over a corpse and falls into hell without any ceremony, elbow-deep in mud and viscera with nothing in his ears but the clash of sabers again and again and again. Something possesses him to crawl through heat and death and over body after body and then Mingjue is there, Mingjue is there and when he reaches out a hand to Huaisang he spits blood and falls to his knees, there's blood on Huaisang's face, and— and—

And he jerks awake but not really, wild-eyed and twisting around when he finally feels that something has grabbed him. For a moment his gaze is elsewhere, eyes open but not seeing until the firm grip on his arm drags him out of the depths.

He blinks. He blinks again and crumbles, breathing hard and shallow, curling into himself again as he reaches out slowly to grip the front of Jiang Cheng's robe, white-knuckled and trembling.

Give him a minute. The whole house heard that, by the way, but give him a minute.]

[The whole house heard, and the whole house will say nothing, or else Jiang Cheng will truly break all their legs.

In an instant he's wrapped his arms around him, gathering him in close, shifting only so he can put his own back to the door instead of Huaisang's. God only knows what the nightmare was about, bandits or soldiers or ghosts, but in some ways, it doesn't matter. I'm here, I'll keep you safe, that's all that truly means.]

It's okay. It's okay, you're okay.

[It's whispered a touch harshly, his heart is thudding hard in his chest, that cry still echoing in his ears.]

I'm here. I'm here, nothing will hurt you. Nothing will touch you. It's okay . . .

highly new, slightly improved open post

a fucking NOVEL

delicious. 10/10

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