Work Text:
The rain pounded on and on. They were stuck on a mountain path because of the rain, too dangerous for horse or man to continue onwards. Their search was stopped for a time and they took shelter in a small, roadside shrine. Among the idols of foreign gods, both men began to remove their soaked outer layers until they were less chilled and hung them over the statues of foxes to dry.
Feng Wu sighed. His companion had not said a word since he had given the order to stop. Feng Wu had tried, hopelessly, to comment about the rain, the statues, his own chattering teeth, but still Luo Lang had remained in silence. He was pensive, though over what Feng Wu could not imagine. He did not understand how the wolffish foreigner's mind worked. Just that he was strong, and strange, and powerful. And on occasion his lips would twitch into a smile and he would lean over to whisper in rough words some joke he had thought of, or something he had observed.
It made Feng Wu feel special. Their own private moments, even when surrounded by comrades. But now they were alone and Luo Lang did not even look at him as he busied himself with a fire.
As Feng Wu observed him, he couldn't help but notice how ridiculous the man looked. Hunched over as he was, his long arms seemed even longer, and his knees splayed out gave a frog-like appearance. Though his shirt was removed, and Feng Wu was treated to a view of his scarred, muscled abdomen.
He swallowed, cleared his throat, and sat down across from his comrade. "Did the flint get wet?" He asked as Luo Lang struggled to get a spark.
The man only grunted in reply. Feng Wu frowned and tried again, "Mine are in my saddle bag, they may be drier."
Another grunt.
"I could get them?"
"These will work," Luo Lang's voice rumbled. His lips barely moved as he spoke. A second later sparks flew and the small pile of dried grass caught flame. Luo Lang added some scraps of broken floorboard to it and settled back onto his haunches.
He kept his eyes on the fire. Feng Wu kept his eyes on him.
The chill was getting to him. He shivered and knew it was because of his hair, just as soaked as his clothes had been. Feng Wu absently reached up and removed the clasp holding his horsetail in place, and his mass of dark hair fell around his shoulders.
He used his fingers to comb out knots and drops of water, but paused when he noticed Luo Lang staring at him from across their little fire.
"What is it?" He asked.
Luo Lang slowly lowered his eyes back to the flames. "Are you still cold?" He murmured.
Feng Wu shrugged a shoulder. He was, but he did not want to complain and seem weak. He never wanted to seem weak, especially not in front of this man. He watched Luo Lang shift so he was seated with his legs crossed and his hands rested on his knees, then blue eyes caught his again. Held them.
"Come, sit by me, it will be warmer."
Feng Wu's heart lurched. He thought about refusing, he thought about staying where he was and bearing the cold, but his resolve wavered quickly under the gaze of those - beautiful - blue eyes. He scrambled eagerly to the other side of the fire and settled down next to Luo Lang. Their shoulders almost touching, he could feel the hairs on his arm raise at the proximity they now shared.
Feng Wu couldn't help his smile, and was glad for the curtain of hair that hid it.
Silence enveloped them again, broken only by the sound of the rain drumming on the shrine's roof. He could feel water dripping down his back from his hair. It would take time for it to dry, and it caused chills to race up and down his spine. Feng Wu drew his knees up to his chest and leaned into the warmth of the fire.
Pale fingers parted the curtain of hair hiding his face and Feng Wu froze. He didn't dare move as Luo Lang tucked Feng Wu's hair behind his ear, then pulled it all into one hand. Luo Lang gently squeezed and drew the water to the end of the mass of hair.
"You will get a chill if you let this stay against your back," Luo Lang murmured.
Feng Wu glanced at him. He had a slight frown on his face as he continued to wring the water from Feng Wu's hair. He paused when he saw Feng Wu looking at him, and Feng Wu blushed at having disturbed him.
But instead of pulling away, Luo Lang asked, "May I?"
Feng Wu nodded.
Luo Lang's strong fingers resume their motions. They ran through Feng Wu's hair, pressing into his scalp and working out tangles in both muscle and fibre. Feng Wu relaxed into the touches, unfolding himself as Luo Lang worked.
A small moan, barely audible, escaped his throat and he felt the fingers still again. A flush rose in Feng Wu's cheeks.
"It feels good," Feng Wu admitted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
Luo Lang chuckled and Feng Wu stilled again. He felt like a rabbit, caught by a wolf who was playing with him before he decided to devour him whole. But Luo Lang did not devour him, instead he returned to his work and used deft hands to pull Feng Wu's hair into a braid. He folded this up, pinned it with Feng Wu's hairpiece, and it kept the damp chill off his shoulders.
"Where did to learn how to so that?" Feng Wu asked as he inspected the other man's work.
Luo Lang said nothing. He was staring at Feng Wu, which brought a different sort of chill to his body. He shivered under his gaze.
A heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into Luo Lang's chest. A warm hand cupped his face and ran a rough thumb over his lips. Feng Wu felt his mouth go dry.
"Luo Lang, what are you-"
Luo Lang caught his lips in a kiss. He held it for a moment, his rough lips surprisingly gentle against Feng Wu's - not like the last time they had kissed. That had been hurried and powered by the echoes of bloodlust. But still, Feng Wu felt heat rise to the surface of his skin in a blush that chased away what cold was left.
Luo Lang pulled away. He gazed down at the man in his arms, who gazed up at him. Yet again Feng Wu felt observed, but not in a bad way this time. It was a private look, the kind that made Feng Wu feel special and, almost, loved.
"You insist on talking," Luo Lang rumbled. "When we can sit. Listen to the rain. Take a moment to breathe."
Feng Wu settled against Luo Lang's chest. He was practically sitting in the other man's lap and allowed himself to be adjusted until it was comfortable for both of them. They sat like that, Feng Wu with his ear pressed to the other's chest. He could hear his heart beat, and it merged with the rise and fall of his chest, the drumming of the rain, and he drifted off to sleep.