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English
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fandomtrees 2020, author's favs (Guardian edition)
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Published:
2021-01-05
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2,086
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1/1
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I'll meet you where you are

Summary:

It had been a successful evening—Shen Wei had accepted his apology for the hidden camera, they’d cut Cong Bo’s blackmail off at the knees and recruited him as a consultant to the SID, and Shen Wei had been unusually relaxed and forthcoming afterwards, telling Zhao Yunlan about his Dixing power. They worked well together; it made Zhao Yunlan hungry for more.

Notes:

Hi! Happy Fandomtrees! I hope you like this. <3

Title from 'Falling Like Rain' by Tina Turner (idek). With thanks to Trobadora for beta.

Work Text:

Zhao Yunlan was playing a mindless game on his phone when Shen Wei cleared his throat. Zhao Yunlan looked up in surprise. “What, done already?”

“As you can see.” Shen Wei, standing at the end of the couch, looked down at him, drily amused.

Zhao Yunlan pouted. The flat was perfectly in order, and he’d only managed to sneak a couple of photos of Shen Wei, the Envoy of Dixing, folding the clothes at the end of the bed and wiping out the fridge, before he’d been distracted by the phone game. A missed opportunity.

He cast his phone aside and stood up to say goodnight. It had been a successful evening—Shen Wei had accepted his apology for the hidden camera, they’d cut Cong Bo’s blackmail off at the knees and recruited him as a consultant to the SID, and Shen Wei had been unusually relaxed and forthcoming afterwards, telling Zhao Yunlan about his Dixing power. They worked well together; it made Zhao Yunlan hungry for more. “Hei-laoge, thank you for your diligent housework. If there’s any way I can repay you…”

He didn’t intend to leer as he said it, but there was a trace of heat lurking beneath Shen Wei’s amusement, as if Shen Wei understood the game they were playing and where it could lead if Zhao Yunlan dared take up his challenge. And Zhao Yunlan did dare—how could he not? Professor Shen had been front and centre in his fantasies for months; figuring out Shen Wei was also the Envoy hadn’t changed that, had just made Zhao Yunlan even more ready to be admitted into the private spaces of Shen Wei’s life, to hold him and feel his touch, to receive his confidences. They were trembling on the cusp; if he just reached out, surely—

“There’s no need. After all, my services were in compensation,” said Shen Wei. “So, I’ll be going.”

—or maybe the challenge was an illusion. Maybe Zhao Yunlan was reading this wrong. Uncertainty filled his head like a swarm of bees.

“Don’t go.” The words blurted out, unbidden, and he immediately felt like an idiot. That hadn’t been smooth. But he took a step forward anyway. “I mean, what’s the rush? We could—” He trailed off, dragged his teeth over his lower lip. Was he really going to proposition Dixing’s Black-Cloaked Envoy? He was. He couldn’t help himself. The bees fell silent. “Shen Wei, don’t you know what I really want?”

Don’t you want it, too?

Shen Wei’s gaze flicked up to Zhao Yunlan’s new haircut, then dropped to his mouth. He clenched his jaw as if he were wrestling with himself. Well, of course, after inhabiting such a solitary role for so long, it would be hard to let anyone close. His self-sufficiency and reserve—they must be second nature by now. Was the air of melancholy that sometimes hung around him simple, habitual loneliness?

“Let me in,” breathed Zhao Yunlan, putting aside the last of his pride and begging for both their sakes. Refusing to think about what would happen if Shen Wei said no. Shen Wei wouldn’t. He wouldn’t push Zhao Yunlan away anymore, Zhao Yunlan was certain.

And sure enough, Shen Wei’s gaze flared hot and dark. He inhaled sharply and said Zhao Yunlan’s name, then reached for him, fitting their mouths together as if he was starving.

Zhao Yunlan gasped. There was a fizz under Shen Wei’s skin, in his lips and oh, in his tongue as well. An electricity that set Zhao Yunlan’s pulse racing, his hair prickling, that turned him on like crazy and made him clutch at Shen Wei’s shoulders. Was it dark energy? Zhao Yunlan’s own desire? He couldn’t think, he just wanted—everything Shen Wei would give him.

He pressed forward, and Shen Wei’s arms closed around him. Distantly, Zhao Yunlan was surprised—he’d expected bridging the gap would be a tentative, exploratory process—if Shen Wei was sure, why had he been holding him at a distance up till now? But Shen Wei kissed with artless, unmistakeable certainty, as if they were already lovers.

Zhao Yunlan’s legs buckled in his enthusiasm, and then Shen Wei was holding him up without any apparent effort. Zhao Yunlan pulled back a fraction, panting. He just needed a second to regroup, to catch up with the fact that this wasn’t a careful seduction on his part—more like succumbing to a force of nature. He kept one finger hooked into Shen Wei’s sleeve garter, though. He wasn’t letting Shen Wei get away, now they’d finally taken this step.

“Are you—” Shen Wei was watching him closely, as if there was any chance on earth Zhao Yunlan had changed his mind. “Is this not what you meant?”

Zhao Yunlan laughed, low and enchanted, and leaned in to brush another kiss to his lips. Elation was rising up in him, so bright he felt like he could float away on it. Certainty, too. He’d passed whatever test Shen Wei had been putting him through. All the frustration of Shen Wei’s lies and evasions were in the past. “No, it’s exactly what I meant. Hei-laoge, I’m honoured to be in your arms and in your confidence.”

Shen Wei had already claimed they were friends. We’ve always been friends. This close, with their lives so thoroughly entwined, there was no more need to hold back, was there? And Shen Wei would have someone on his side who knew the whole.

“After ten thousand years, I’m sure you have some fascinating stories to share.” Zhao Yunlan wanted them all, to stay awake all night, for weeks or months, lying in Shen Wei’s arms and hearing his entire history. He laughed again, already anticipating the relief for both of them, the closing of that last distance. “I’m a very good listener.”

Shen Wei wasn’t laughing, wasn’t even smiling. He was still flushed, but the hot glazed look in his eyes was cooling rapidly. He stepped back, and the finger Zhao Yunlan had hooked through the sleeve garter pulled free.

The floor seemed to drop beneath Zhao Yunlan’s feet, and his insides lurched. Slowly, he lowered his hand. “What? What is it?”

“I—” Shen Wei dropped his gaze to stare at some indeterminate point between them. For a moment, neither of them moved, then Shen Wei stood straighter and looked up again. The tense line of his lips, reddened from their kiss, accentuated his obvious resolve. “I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I can’t—I shouldn’t have—” He bit off the explanation as if it hurt too much to say.

Zhao Yunlan folded his arms across the sick feeling in his stomach and stared at him. What was happening? Shen Wei wanted him, Zhao Yunlan knew first-hand, now, how much. And from the way he kissed, he must have had lovers before. Why was he pulling back? Zhao Yunlan had thought this was the start of a relationship—one where Shen Wei would feel comfortable enough to speak freely about his past, to confide in him. Zhao Yunlan had presumed. But of course he wasn’t special. Wanting to be didn’t make it true.

Even if it had felt true this evening, with Shen Wei explaining his power and laughing with him, it wasn’t.

He was fucking up, expecting too much. Ruining everything. He reached out and grabbed Shen Wei’s arm before he lost the precious ground he’d gained. Before Shen Wei was completely out of reach. “Forget what I said. Forget it. Just don’t go.”

“I’m sorry,” said Shen Wei, obviously meaning it, but still so damned oblique, and Zhao Yunlan was afraid to ask, couldn’t clarify a thing for fear of making the situation worse. Shen Wei was already regretting the kiss—not because he hadn’t wanted it, but because Zhao Yunlan had misunderstood. If he shut Zhao Yunlan out now, would they ever find their way back to this? How long would it take?

“No, I shouldn’t have assumed. This doesn’t have to be anything—” He couldn’t choke out the rest of it. It was serious. He’d already given his heart, and Shen Wei wouldn’t—or couldn’t—even pretend that made a difference. Well, what had he expected—the great Envoy of Dixing to fall in love with him? To pour out his deepest secrets? Shen Wei hadn’t even wanted to tell him the truth of his identity—Zhao Yunlan had had to force his hand. He couldn’t do that here. They were friends, and Shen Wei wanted him. It was enough—more than his ratbag self deserved. He stuffed his disappointment into the bottom of his stomach and grinned to cover. “It’s fine. Really. Shen Wei—”

Kiss me again.

Shen Wei’s eyes flicked back up to Zhao Yunlan’s hair. Did he know Zhao Yunlan had changed it on purpose to show just how committed he already was? Whether he did or not, whatever meaning he saw there seemed to give him some hope. “Do you trust me?”

It was a stupid question. He must know by now how Zhao Yunlan felt about him. But—but there were layers of trust, and while Zhao Yunlan trusted Shen Wei with his life, trusted his essential goodness, his commitment to duty and his strength, he didn’t trust him not to go behind Zhao Yunlan’s back and try to work alone again, if he thought it would keep Zhao Yunlan and the SID safe. And given Shen Wei’s reticence, given he’d just backed off at the merest suggestion of revealing anything about his past, Zhao Yunlan couldn’t trust him to tell the whole truth.

“What’s that got to do with this?” he countered. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” said Shen Wei, unhesitating. “I always have.”

That always again, hanging in the air like a puzzle. (We’ve always been friends. That’s never changed.) A challenge, too. “Accept me as I am,” that always said. “Let my secrets remain unspoken, and trust me.” It should have been infuriating, but somehow, instead, it soothed Zhao Yunlan’s disappointment.

When always stretched into the past, it was a mystery; when it stretched into the future, it was a promise.

Shen Wei was watching him, not trying to persuade him further, but waiting for his answer as if the fate of the world hung in the balance. As if Zhao Yunlan mattered in the Envoy’s greater, ten-thousand-year-long scheme of things. Or just as if he cared with all his might. Given who he was and who Zhao Yunlan was, his intensity was ridiculous, a nonsensical balm. Zhao Yunlan had no idea what was going on, but one thing was inescapable: he was important to Shen Wei. He was special after all—they both were.

The realisation brought back Zhao Yunlan’s earlier elation. He laughed in relief, and decided then and there to meet Shen Wei’s intensity, to rise to his challenge. Not to hold back. To take a chance.

“I trust you.” It was the truth, a pledge, and a concession, all rolled into one.

Shen Wei laughed too, a small huff of relief—and that almost balanced the scales. Zhao Yunlan would trade his acceptance for that laugh and the small smile that lingered after, unmediated by mask or glasses. For Shen Wei. He would. It hurt—he wanted to know, dammit—but this wasn’t Professor Shen hiding his identity and lying to his face. If Shen Wei needed to keep his past private, that was his business, separate from Zhao Yunlan and whatever was happening between them. And Shen Wei had stopped his wide-eyed “I don’t understand” denials, was being open about his secrets’ existence. Zhao Yunlan would take that and count himself lucky.

Shen Wei came close again and raised his hand to cup Zhao Yunlan’s face, but hesitated a few inches away, silently asking permission.

Zhao Yunlan caught that hand and brought it home, pressing Shen Wei’s palm to his cheek, feeling the heat and fizz of Shen Wei’s touch, his nearness. They kissed again, a deep, hungry kiss, and Zhao Yunlan wrapped his arms around Shen Wei’s waist and hung on.

He’d started this, he needed it, and he’d be damned if he’d flinch away just because Shen Wei was, basically, being Shen Wei. Maybe in time things would change. Zhao Yunlan could be patient. And in the meantime, he’d protect Shen Wei to the best of his abilities—from loneliness, from whatever the world might throw at him, and from Zhao Yunlan’s own curiosity and longing, too.

 

END