Work Text:
Jiang Cheng watches Nie Huaisang pace the floor of his room. His sleeping robe has slipped off one shoulder, and the hem drags behind him. Jiang Cheng stays in bed and waits to see if he’ll run out of steam and come back to bed, but Huaisang continues to pace. When he starts muttering to himself, Jiang Cheng sighs and gets out of bed.
He plants himself in Huaisang’s path and places his palms against Huaisang’s chest.
“This is a terrible idea,” Huaisang says.
“How can it be a bad idea? It’s yours,” Jiang Cheng replies. He slides his hands outward and gives Huaisang’s arms a gentle squeeze. “And you’re pretty fucking brilliant.”
Huaisang normally preens whenever Jiang Cheng praises him, but tonight he deflates and sinks further into himself, hunching his shoulders and looking down at the floor. “Behind the scenes,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, “where no one looks at me.” He meets Jiang Cheng’s gaze. “They’ll all be looking at me, A-Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng takes Huaisang’s hand and leads him to the bed, sitting on the edge. “I hate to tell you this, but people look at you all the time.” He grimaces. “It actually pisses me off,” he admits, “especially that one Pingzhou disciple.”
“Oh, yes,” Huaisang says absently, twisting one of his sleeves in his fingers, “he’s a cute little thing.”
“Huaisang!”
“What?” A ghost of a smile crossed Huaisang’s face. “He is. He’s also about fourteen. And he’s also not you.”
“Still.”
“Still nothing. I don’t care about him. But the others. Everyone’s coming.”
“It’s a discussion conference,” Jiang Cheng says, “and the first your brother’s hosted since his wedding. Of course people are coming, and they’re going to be circling your brother and Zewu-Jun.”
“And me, A-Cheng!” Huaisang tries to get up and pace, but Jiang Cheng pulls him back down. “They’re going to be watching me, A-Cheng, trying to find any weakness they can exploit, especially since I’m taking on more responsibility so Da-ge can split his time more between Gusu and here.”
“Alright, first of all, you’re right. They’ll look at you. But!” Jiang Cheng cups a hand around the back of Huaisang’s neck and runs his thumb along the underside of Huaisang’s jaw. “Don’t forget that I’ll be right beside you the entire time. We’re not little boys playing at being Sect Leaders. We are leaders. And second, this demonstration is going to be perfect.”
“They’ll be expecting sabers.”
“Who gives a fuck what they expect? We never have before. You’ve been working with those fans for years now. It’s time everyone sees just how powerful, how deadly you can be.”
“But they’ll say a fan isn’t an appropriate weapon.”
“Again, who the fuck cares? Your brother approves.” Jiang Cheng cups the other side of Huaisang’s face and looks him in the eye. “You should see how he looks when he watches you practice. I’ve never seen him look more proud.” Jiang Cheng smirks. “He and Wei Ying have started a betting pool. I’m not exactly sure what the game is, or what the stakes are— they shut up whenever I’m around — but I know for a fact that they’re betting on you.”
“A-Cheng…”
“Huaisang.”
“I don’t want them to see my weakness. I don’t want it to reflect poorly on Qinghe or Da-ge.”
“Huaisang.” Jiang Cheng smooths away a strand of Huaisang’s hair and tucks it behind his ear. “When they see you, they’ll see your strength. They’ll see your dedication, your determination, your power. As for weaknesses,” Jiang Cheng goes on, “I’m confident that I’m the only one who knows about this” —he leans in and kisses the sensitive spot under Huaisang’s left ear — “or this” — he drags his lips across the hollow of Huaisang’s throat.
Huaisang draws a shuddering breath. “Stop it, A-Cheng.”
“Mmm,” Jiang Cheng murmurs against Huaisang’s exposed shoulder, “I don’t think I will.”
“I need you to be serious right now.”
“Nope.” He slides Huaisang’s robe from his other shoulder. “You need to come back to bed with me.” With practiced ease, Jiang Cheng falls back against the mattress and maneuvers Huaisang until he’s straddling Jiang Cheng’s hips.
“Not now,” Huaisang protests weakly.
Jiang Cheng lets his hands wander down Huaisang’s silk-draped thighs. “Okay,” he drawls, “not this.” He punctuates the words with a lazy roll of his hips. “Or this.” His hands circle Huaisang’s waist and meet at the small of his back, and he pulls Huaisang down to rest against his chest so he can leave a kiss at the crook of Huaisang’s neck. “But most definitely this.” He rolls to one side, allowing Huaisang to curl against him.
“But the demonstration —“
“Is in three days.” Jiang Cheng kisses the top of Huaisang’s head. “You can practice in the morning, but for now, you need to sleep.”
Huaisang tries in vain to protest, and Jiang Cheng catches each word with a sweet kiss, until Huaisang gives up and allows Jiang Cheng to tuck the blankets around him and soothe him to sleep.