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The basement room at SID was bare brick like the rest of the building, iron girders painted in a practical green. Most of the floor space was taken up by a mat, heavy and black, strong enough to withstand Lin Jing testing weapons and Old Chu practising whatever martial art he wanted to and stinking of rubber. There were weights off to one side, a little dusty with misuse, a bench, like the ones Yunlan remembered from school and a pile of boxes thrown haphazardly against the back wall. It wasn’t as if this was a priority for the SID and Yunlan had put no effort into wasting any of his budget on upgrading equipment, no matter how much Lin Jing muttered about his ambition to put on muscle. Yunlan mainly used the room to store random confiscated weapons and ignored it.
It was impossible to ignore Little Guo. Yunlan reminded himself that Little Guo was a valuable member of the team. But sometimes Zhao Yunlan just needed him and his whole brain to be elsewhere for a bit. And occupied. And during downtime at SID, keeping Guo Changcheng occupied could be something of a full time job. Yunlan had tried delegating to Chu Shuzhi but, for some reason, he was nowhere to be found today. Everyone else kept their head down.
“There’s boxes. In the corner of the room we use for exercising. Downstairs.” Zhao Yunlan realised this was a genius idea. “They need to be categorised and organised.”
Little Guo nodded, too quick, and left. And Zhao Yunlan returned to looking at his ceiling and contemplating Shen Wei…
“Chief Zhao?” There was an insistent tap at the door. Zhao Yunlan tried to pretend he had just been resting his eyes and wiped at his mouth to make sure there was no surreptitious drool.
“Come in,” Yunlan dug around for a lollipop to take away the sleep taste from his mouth. Little Guo fidgeted in the doorway. “You’re done?”
“Yes. I mean. I think so.” Little Guo took a deep breath. “You should check.” Yunlan could do with a walk, he supposed. A bit of a stretch.
“Good work, young man!” he said, only half sarcastic. “You should see if the Deputy Chief has anything that needs doing.” And, with that, he shooed Little Guo back towards the main room where everyone else was either pretending to work or flat out lying on the table. Zhao Yunlan successfully scampered down the stairs before anyone else could attempt to palm off Little Guo onto him again.
After Little Guo’s hard work, there was a rather attractive wall display of the previously boxed mishmash of confiscated weaponry that would not look out of place in a museum or a historic palace. Knives in an arc formed a centrepiece for various longer and pointier sticks, some with colourful tassels. There were a few smaller versions of the Black Robe Envoy’s staff. Shields - round ones with sharp points sticking out of the centre. Yunlan had no idea that half of this had even been down here. Zhao Yunlan was - begrudgingly - admiring Little Guo’s work when the door opened behind him.
“Hello,” the soft, warm and calm voice of Shen Wei called. “I was told you were down here.”
Yunlan lifted his hands out in a shrug, as if to say, ‘you’ve caught me’ and returned to looking at the wall. “Any suggestions about why this was here?”
Shen Wei came to stand at his shoulder. Since they’d stopped dancing around each other, he would stand closer than he used to, near enough that Yunlan could feel his warmth through his shirt. Shen Wei was dressed immaculately as usual, a neat blue waistcoat with a subtle weave emphasising the crispness of his shirt and the swell of his shoulders. Yunlan watched Shen Wei blink, his eyelashes long enough to brush the lens of his glasses before resting on his cheeks. Yunlan knew what they felt like against his skin when Shen Wei pressed close, forehead to temple, holding him safe against the world.
“It is a fan,” Shen Wei informed him, slyly meeting Yunlan’s gaze.
Zhao Yunlan smirked. He liked Shen Wei when he was in a mood to tease, to stand toe-to-toe with him. “I see that. But why is with the weapons.”
“Because it is also a weapon,” Shen Wei told him, dryly.
Zhao Yunlan leaned forward to inspect it. “For flirtation? I don’t need a fan for that.” Shen Wei huffed out half a laugh, smiling at Yunlan, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Don’t say I need all the help I can get.”
Shen Wei merely leaned past him and lifted the fan from the wall display. “It is a subtle weapon,” he continued, sliding into professorial mode. Which was hot. Admittedly, everything about Shen Wei was hot but this was something Zhao Yunlan didn’t get to experience often enough: teacher mode. “It does not scream violence like the others.”
“Like your pointy stick!” Zhao Yunlan waved his hand to indicate the Envoy’s staff. Shen Wei didn’t answer him but Yunlan knew he was correct.
“The ribs are steel, I think.” Shen Wei turned it over in his hand, wafting Yunlan with a gentle breeze. “And I imagine the leaves are reinforced too.” Shen Wei carefully ran a finger across the top and hummed. His finger tip came away bloody and he licked it delicately before continuing. “Indeed. They are probably sharp enough to cut cloth - or skin.”
“I can see that,” Yunlan muttered, grabbing at the wounded hand. Shen Wei’s powers would heal it almost instantly but he didn’t like seeing Shen Wei hurt. At all. It brought back bad - the worst - memories. Shen Wei smiled, blinking in acknowledgement, in thanks, as Yunlan let him have his hand back.
Shen Wei returned to the fan. “The rivet would act as a bludgeon and, I suspect-” He snapped the fan closed and turned to flick it towards the wall. A thin blade shot out, clattering against the brick. “A hidden knife in the guard.”
“Plus it’s pretty.” Yunlan was a little scared of the fan now. He knew that too many innocent appearing things had the capacity to hurt, to main, to poison. He was also still hopeful that sometimes the look of something was correct, sometimes. No matter the air of cynicism he cultivated, at heart he was still trusting.
Shen Wei had opened the fan out again and waved it back and forth, seemingly testing the feel of it. Then he stepped into the middle of the mat and raised the fan to rest in front of his chest, one hand neatly held behind his back. He bowed his head to Yunlan and took a step, lifting the fan in an arc up over his head. Zhao Yunlan wasn’t sure what was going on, but he caught the sparkle of mischief in Shen Wei’s eyes and leaned back against the nearest girder, ready to see what happened next.
Shen Wei started out slowly, moving the fan in ways that Yunlan was familiar with from seeing small girls prance around at festivals and maybe a couple of strippers. The fan passed from side to side, emphasising Shen Wei’s elegant posture, the strength of his arms and his graceful wrists. Zhao Yunlan liked Shen Wei’s wrists. He liked all of Shen Wei but there was something about the way they could hold his hands, his thighs, his cock...
It was then that Shen Wei started to pick up speed, snapping the fan closed and spinning it before opening it again and wafting it in graceful twists and swooping movements. Shen Wei smiled as he brought it to rest much in the position he’d started in. Yunlan had to applaud, which made Shen Wei glance up at him, sheepishly. He acknowledged the attention with a dip of his head, modestly raising the fan until he was looking rather coquettishly over it. That - that was definitely flirtation.
“So, is it good?” Zhao Yunlan asked, hoping the answer was yes and that they could perhaps sneak back to his office and close the blinds without anyone catching them.
Shen Wei didn’t answer. Instead he took a step back and lifted the fan out from his body. This time, instead of holding it while he spun it, he threw it up in the air and caught it neatly in his opposite hand. Yunlan frowned - if it had steel and a knife and stuff that made it sharp and deadly, it was probably heavy and dangerous and maybe Shen Wei shouldn’t be playing with it like a toy. He should possibly be responsible and stop him. But Shen Wei merely started moving again, faster and smoother, in something halfway between a dance and an attack. The fan spun up into the air and he caught it in one hand or both, sometimes dipping his knees and spinning it around himself before tossing it up again.
Zhao Yunlan swallowed, his mouth dry.
Between one step and another, fan in midair, Shen Wei changed from his calm, smart, together professor to the Black Robe Envoy, masked and dangerous and with his heavy robes swirling about him. Suddenly, Zhao Yunlan realised what many of the moves were intended to do, as Shen Wei’s clothes echoed the twists and dips of his body, complimenting the movements of the fan. He didn’t know what the watch - the deadly weapon masquerading as a fan, the way the robes flared and spun or the smirk on his boyfriend’s face as he realised that this performance was definitely pushing all of Zhao Yunlan’s buttons in a way he had never, ever expected.
Zhao Yunlan let out a slow exhalation that was mostly the words “fuck me” as Shen Wei moved even quicker, even more elegantly. Even more deadly. He seemed to have some music, some rhythm in his head as he dipped and slowed, controlling each turn, each fingertip with exquisite precision. The fan made a slicing sound as he cut the air with it, a final flurry of movement whipping it faster and faster beside him and bringing him closer and closer to Zhao Yunlan. At the very edge of the mat, only inches from where Yunlan was leaning, Shen Wei stopped, all at once, the fan close enough to take out Yunlan with one, final, swipe.
They were both breathing a little heavier than they had been.
Shen Wei stepped back, his robes vanishing and the neat waistcoat and shirt returning. He settled his glasses, again, unnecessarily. “Yes?”
Yunlan leaned forward and Shen Wei dropped the fan, suddenly clumsy, as they crashed together. He loved how Shen Wei’s hands found their way to the small of his back, the back of his neck, and brought him close and tight and hard as he kissed him, biting at his mouth. Yunlan didn’t care that anyone could come down here. Instead he revelled in the way Shen Wei took control of him, as confident and powerful as he had handled the weapon.
When they broke the kiss - kisses, kissing - and stepped apart far enough to grab their breath, Shen Wei’s eyes were dark with intent and his mouth was red and bruised. Yunlan knew he probably didn’t look much better. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he could talk Shen Wei into fucking him here.
Little Guo clattered into the room. “Deputy Chief said…” He petered out as Yunlan glared at him for the interruption. Then he seemed to realise what he’d interrupted and became very interested in the bench to his left, eyes dancing over to Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei and a blush rising on his cheeks before he glanced away again.
“Hopefully he said he’s in charge for the rest of the day.” Zhao Yunlan shook his head at Shen Wei. “We’re going to head out. Follow up on a lead.”
Shen Wei raised his eyebrows. “Good work on the display, Guo Changcheng.” He bent to retrieve the fan and return it to the wall. “These may be useful for training.”
Zhao Yunlan watched Shen Wei as he fussed with the fan, keeping his back to the room for longer than needed. Or, honestly, he watched his ass and admired the cut of his pants and the way that the waistcoat nipped in emphasising Shen Wei’s narrow waist. Little Guo let out a strangled choking sound. Yunlan, as a responsible boss, should care more. “Yeah, good job,” he repeated, not looking away. Shen Wei caught him when he turned around but Yunlan knew he was only pretending to look abashed.
“So, that lead?” Zhao Yunlan nodded to the exit and fell into step beside Shen Wei, as comfortable as a hundred times before. “And you can research more weapons.” Shen Wei shot him a sideways look as Zhao Yunlan creased over in laughter.
Shen Wei waited until they were in his jeep, driving home, before he responded.
“Your dick is not a weapon.” Shen Wei was prim and proper but Yunlan knew better.
“Yours is,” he responded, resisting the urge to speed up. “And you’re going to use it to destroy-” Shen Wei’s hand covered his mouth before he could finish. He licked at it, petty.
They drove in anticipation for a few more streets.
“I am not fucking you in my robes, either,” Shen Wei told him. Zhao Yunlan pouted but he couldn’t keep it up for long. He loved that Shen Wei knew him well enough to predict what he was going to say next. What he was thinking. What he wanted. “Maybe in the mask,” Shen Wei allowed, as they pulled to a stop.
Zhao Yunlan leaned over the centre console and kissed him, probably too intense and deep for a midweek afternoon in public. Shen Wei merely cupped his cheek and pulled him back when he withdrew, reluctantly. They breathed in each other, quiet for a moment. They’d get upstairs and naked and together and have to open a window to let the sweat cool on their skin in the early evening air soon enough.