Work Text:
“Ah, my king! Watch out for that—”
Mobei-jun hardly blinks as a giant cloud of pollen hits him square in the face. His arm is still up from where he’d casually swatted aside a branch covered in glowing purple blossoms; the flowers must not have appreciated his desire for them to get out of his way. Ridiculous.
Shang Qinghua grimaces in that exaggerated way he’s prone to and squeaks out the—now irrelevant—remainder of his warning. “...pollen.”
Mobei-jun puffs an exhale, spitting out whatever bits of it had gotten into his mouth.
“Pff. So cute!”
Cute? Him?! If anyone’s cute it’s Shang Qinghua. Mobei-jun glares at his husband, shoving away the part of himself that feels a little flattered. “Do you want to die?”
“Eh?” Shang Qinghua has the gall to look surprised. He puts up his hands placatingly. “Why is my king blaming me? I did try to warn you. It’s not this husband’s fault that you’re too tall to simply walk around it.”
“Ah, but it sort of is though…” Shang Qinghua somehow says without moving his mouth.
One of Mobei-jun’s eyebrows lifts infinitesimally.
“At least these aren’t toxic.” Shang Qinghua steps closer, covering his hands with his sleeves to help brush the pollen from Mobei-jun’s shoulders. Without needing to be asked, Mobei-jun tilts his neck down so that Shang Qinghua can reach the top of his head.
“Well, I'm pretty sure they aren’t. If only Cucumber Bro was here, he’d remember for sure… Aiyah, there’s even some in his eyelashes!” Shang Qinghua pulls back for a brief moment. “Hold still, my king. Let me just…” He carefully plucks the tiny specks from Mobei-jun’s dark lashes and blows them away. “There we go.”
Mobei-jun straightens his back, eyes never leaving his husband. Either Shang Qinghua has suddenly gained a peculiar new hobby of throwing his voice while keeping his mouth shut tight, or whatever those flowers spat out has given Mobei-jun the bizarre ability to hear his beloved’s thoughts. It’s almost certainly the latter, though Shang Qinghua is full of surprises.
"Why is my king looking at me like that?” Shang Qinghua asks aloud. However, what Mobei-jun hears at practically the same time is: “Ah, that look is really no good for this old man’s heart. Too handsome!! My king is really too fucking handsome!!”
“I thought I was cute,” Mobei-jun deadpans.
“What?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.” Mobei-jun grabs Shang Qinghua’s arm and practically drags him back on their way. He’s decided to keep this new ability a secret for the time being. Not for any particular reason.
Just…because.
Mn. Yeah. Because.
Mobei-jun lounges on Shang Qinghua’s bed, cheek in his palm, and watches Shang Qinghua pore over dozens of scrolls. He’s hunched over the low table, tongue poking out between his teeth as he concentrates. He seems to be so engrossed by paperwork that nothing would be able to break his flow.
Mobei-jun knows otherwise.
“How dare my king distract me like this!” Shang Qinghua casually pops a melon seed into his mouth. “My good king, your robes are loose! This poor husband can see part of your chest!! Cover that up if you don’t want me to choke to death!!”
A hint of amusement lights up Mobei-jun’s eyes; he shifts slightly so that his robes fall open further. Shang Qinghua glances over for barely an instant before he’s once again glued to his work. His cheeks hold an alluring flush.
“The work of An Ding Peak is never done and yet he taunts me with his body. Maybe if I manage to get half of this finished before nightfall, we’ll have time for a quickie…not! He hasn’t been quick since we first started doing it. Ah, talk about embarrassing–”
“Hey,” Mobei-jun interjects, the corners of his lips downturned. Shang Qinghua hadn’t lasted much longer than he had…
“Does my king need something?”
Mobei-jun’s icy stare speaks louder than any words—aloud or otherwise.
“What’s with that grumpy expression? Is he feeling neglected?” Shang Qinghua’s thoughts enter Mobei-jun’s mind. “Or…oh no. Were those flowers poisonous after all? Hang on, my king! I’m sure it’s curable by papapa!! Almost everything is!”
Mobei-jun’s eyelid twitches. His husband’s thoughts are so full of nonsense. Adorable nonsense, but nonsense nonetheless.
Shang Qinghua tilts his head, probing, “Is my king feeling all right?”
He is now. His surly mood can’t seem to hold up under Shang Qinghua’s earnest anxiety. He always enjoys it when Shang Qinghua fusses over him. Mobei-jun makes a noncommittal noise and flips onto his other side, turning his back.
He hears the rustle of clothing as Shang Qinghua stands. Mobei-jun’s blue eyes go wide as the back of a familiar callused hand presses against his cheek, then his forehead.
“You don’t feel warm,” Shang Qinghua muses. He begins to pull his hand away but Mobei-jun catches it.
“Qinghua.”
“Yes?” Shang Qinghua seems three parts confused, seven parts happy. He gives Mobei-jun’s hand a little squeeze. “Aw, maybe he was just feeling neglected. If my king wanted to hold my hand, he could have just asked.”
“I’m bored,” Mobei-jun says with his usual amount of tact. “Work faster so we can leave.”
“Haha okay, okay…”
“...”
“Uh, my king? You still haven’t let go.” Shang Qinghua laughs; a faux nervous titter that’s undercut by the thought he unknowingly projects, “His hand feels so nice.”
Mobei-jun presses a firm, ice-cold kiss to Shang Qinghua’s knuckles.
He hopes this curse never wears off.
The curse begins to wear off.
How? Well, it turns out that Shang Qinghua’s thoughts aren’t entirely nonsense. Which is why halfway through their bi-weekly papapa session, Mobei-jun makes the suave and appropriate decision to pull out and teleport about fifty li away.
He realizes almost immediately that this was the wrong thing to do. And not only because he’s given an elderly human couple—and their chickens—quite the scare. Frightening humans is only natural, though allowing them to witness his nude form is less so.
No, the reason why he knows it was an incorrect choice of action is because he can still hear Shang Qinghua’s thoughts.
“ASDFGHJKL??????? MY…WITHOUT A…WHY WOULD…HE DIDN’T EVEN…AND WITH MY DICK STILL–”
The lack of coherency isn’t caused by the excessive distance. Shang Qinghua’s thoughts beginning to cut out, growing patchier the longer the two of them were intimately connected, was why Mobei-jun decided to take his sudden vacation in the first place.
From what little he can still hear, he gathers that Shang Qinghua is less than pleased. Mobei-jun’s mood sours further. In hindsight, he probably could have handled this situation better…
He should go back.
Mobei-jun prepares to leave but out of the corner of his eye he spots one of the quivering chickens that didn’t have the foresight to hide with its owners.
Hm.
“My king!” Shang Qinghua exclaims in relief. His hair is still mussed from their earlier activities but he’s no longer naked, having haphazardly draped one of Mobei-jun’s robes around his smaller form. He scrambles up from the bed. “Why did you—is that a chicken?”
“For you.” Mobei-jun unceremoniously pushes the chicken into Shang Qinghua’s hands.
Shang Qinghua tilts his head. “He…to get a…hah??”
“Because I left,” Mobei-jun explains. He can’t keep the frown out of his voice; Shang Qinghua’s thoughts keep getting murkier.
“Um, okay. Thank you. I’m just gonna–” Shang Qinghua gingerly puts the chicken on the floor. It promptly runs under the bed.
Mobei-jun makes a move to grab it but Shang Qinghua catches his arm.
“It’s okay! We can get it later. But my king, uh…” Shang Qinghua rubs the back of his neck. “Why did you do this?”
“I didn’t want to return empty handed.”
“That’s really nice of you, you’re a very good husband, but I meant why did you disappear?”
Mobei-jun doesn’t know how to answer so he stays silent, straining his ears for any mental hint from Shang Qinghua about what to say. There’s nothing.
The curse must have finally worn off.
“My king?” Shang Qinghua’s eyebrows pull together in concern. He tugs at Mobei-jun’s arm. “Are you sure you’re not poisoned? I know that demon physician checked you out but maybe we should get Mu-shidi to take a look too.”
“No,” Mobei-jun says. He’s definitely not sulking. Men of his stature don’t sulk. “I’m not poisoned anymore.”
“Oh, that’s good—wait, anymore?!”
“...”
“You’ve been sick and keeping it a secret?!!” Shang Qinghua throws his arms up in exasperation.
“Qinghua, I…”
“No no no, wait! That’s your serious voice and that means a serious conversation which means I refuse to have Little Mobei-jun”—Shang Qinghua gestures to Mobei-jun’s very naked lower half—“on display during it. He’s extremely distracting. Put some clothes on first!”
Mobei-jun blinks at him.
“I know I’m wearing your clothes, my king please don’t give me that look. You have other sets of robes…okay, fine, fine! Give me a moment to find mine then.” Shang Qinghua pokes around for a bit before peeking under the bed. “Ah. Found them…I think they belong to the chicken now. Let’s just share this one, come here.”
A corner of Mobei-jun’s lip quirks up. He’s been so focused on Shang Qinghua’s inner thoughts that he forgot about the usual abundance of silly nonsense that comes out of his husband’s mouth. Mobei-jun obediently steps forth to allow Shang Qinghua to dress him in silk warmed by human skin. He keeps his arms spread for Shang Qinghua to press close, nestling against his chest.
“Did the flowers do something embarrassing? Is that why you didn’t tell me?” Shang Qinghua’s voice is muffled by the position he’s in.
“...Yes.”
“My king,” Shang Qinghua sighs. “Next time you end up with a dreadful and unspeakable affliction, can you please tell me before we have sex? There are tonics one can take for such things.”
Mobei-jun’s brow furrows. His husband has clearly gotten the wrong idea. “I’m not impotent.”
“Of course not, my king.” Shang Qinghua pats him on the back. “Not anymore, right?”
“The pollen let me hear your thoughts. I can get it up just fine.”
“Oh.”
“...”
“Oh! Oh no,” Shang Qinghua gasps. He pulls back as much as Mobei-jun’s firm embrace will allow. “That’s even worse!”
“I liked it.”
“Well, of course you liked it! What did you hear?”
Mobei-jun doesn’t respond, instead choosing to rest his chin on Shang Qinghua’s head. He’ll let his husband squirm for the moment.
“My king. Husband,” Shang Qinghua tries. “Really, what did you hear?”
Nothing worse than what you say aloud, Mobei-jun thinks. He says, “Embarrassing things.”
“Like what??”
Mobei-jun opens his mouth to respond but Shang Qinghua cuts him off, “Ah, nevermind! I don’t want to know. It’s probably better for my heart if I don’t know. I can’t believe my king kept this from me! I’m actually kind of annoyed. You might need more than a chicken to appease me.”
“I can get you more,” Mobei-jun offers. He knows where to find them.
Shang Qinghua pinches his hip without force. “What would I do with more poultry??? No, I want something else. Go find more of those flowers, I should be able to hear my king's thoughts too. It's only fair.”
Mobei-jun doesn't have a problem with that. He presses a kiss to the top of Shang Qinghua’s head. “I already went out today. I'll get them tomorrow.”
“Lazy,” Shang Qinghua admonishes as he snuggles closer. “Can we finish what we started earlier then?”
Mobei-jun makes a low noise of agreement and allows Shang Qinghua to pull him down onto the bed.
And when Shang Qinghua smiles up at him, Mobei-jun doesn't need a curse to tell him what his husband is thinking.