Archive of Our Own

“So. You have a kid now?”

Feng Xin forced himself not to fidget, even as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was keeping an eye on Cuocuo, the young boy giggling and laughing as he chased a rockruff around the enclosure. This was… not how he had expected today to go. Jian Lan was late to help their son pick out his first pokemon, his other ex was the one breeding and raising said pokemon, and he hadn’t seen or spoken to Mu Qing in at least 15 years. Not since that last championship when Mu Qing finally took down Xie Lian as champion.

Not since the rumors had come out that Mu Qing had cheated to win and Mu Qing hadn’t bothered to deny it or even talk to him about it.

“Yeah. Cuocuo. His name is Cuocuo.”

Mu Qing hummed and crossed his arms. Feng Xin could see it out of the corner of his eye, could see the way Mu Qing shifted and then pulled his shoulders back like he was getting ready for a fight.

Feng Xin didn’t want to do this.

“Cuocuo, don’t tug on its tail!” Saved by the child. Feng Xin pushed off the fence he’d been leaning against and picked up the squealing six year old, settling him on his shoulders.

“But papa!” he whined. He draped himself over the top of Feng Xin’s head, pouting at him upside down. “It was a game, papa.”

“You don’t like it very much when we tug on your hair, do you?” he asked with an arched brow.

“No…”

“Neither do pokemon.” Feng Xin dug his fingers into Cuocuo’s sides and grinned when the boy started to howl with laughter again, beating at his hands.

“Papa! Papa, mercy!”

“A’Xin, you know better than to toss Cuocuo around like that.”

Feng Xin stopped tickling Cuocuo, instead helping him sit upright on his shoulders again. He turned and gave his ex-wife a lopsided smile. “Yeah, but he likes it.”

Jian Lan rolled her eyes and crossed over to them. She plucked Cuocuo from Feng Xin’s shoulders like their height difference was nothing and set him back on the ground. “Was papa being mean, Cuocuo?” she cooed.

“The meanest, mama,” Cuocuo answered, even as he threw his arms around her.

Feng Xin made a wounded sound. “Me? Mean? Never.”

“Oh, now you know that’s not true,” Jian Lan answered with a pointed raise of her brow. She ruffled Cuocuo’s hair and turned her gaze to Mu Qing. She had a similar cool look as Mu Qing did; analyzing every detail and tucking it away for future information just in case.

It was intimidating to anyone else, yet Feng Xin was just fond of it, like he’d been fond of Mu Qing’s.

“You must be the breeder. Mu Qing, right?” Jian Lan asked. She held out her hand and Mu Qing took it, shaking it firmly.

Feng Xin knew without a doubt that Jian Lan knew exactly who Mu Qing was, and had likely arranged this on purpose. After all, hadn’t it been just last week Feng Xin had mourned how his relationship with Mu Qing had ended while having dinner with Jian Lan and Yushi Huang? And not two days later Jian Lan had said she’d found the perfect breeder to get Cuocuo’s first pokemon from.

Heartless. Cruel. She truly was out to cause him misery despite their friendship.

“I am. You must be Jian Lan. Your Cuocuo gets along well with the pokemon, he seems to be a natural,” Mu Qing answered. His voice was clipped, careful not to show too much emotion, and yet still he sounded amused.

Feng Xin hated that he could still read Mu Qing. (Feng Xin loved that he could still read him.)

“He gets that from his father,” Jian Lan said with a polite smile, “I’ve never had a way with them myself.”

Mu Qing’s eyes flicked over to Feng Xin, arching a delicate brow.

Feng Xin stopped breathing for a moment.

“I see,” Mu Qing said. There was something indescribable in his face then. An expression that Feng Xin had never been able to read before it was smoothed away by a casual indifference. “Well. What were you thinking for Cuocuo’s first pokemon?” he asked. He tucked his hands into his pockets.

Feng Xin put a hand on Cuocuo’s shoulder. “He gets to pick for himself. We agreed on that.” He glanced at Jian Lan, and his shoulders relaxed at her approving nod. “Cuocuo, why don’t you tell Mu Qing what you’re looking for?”

Cuocuo perked up and stepped forward out of Feng Xin and Jian Lan’s hold. “Something strong! But cute! I want to do the league when I’m older, so I want to make sure my first partner is one I can rely on! Like a… a… like a stufful! Or a rockruff!” He grinned, missing teeth and all on display.

Mu Qing hummed and crouched down to be more on level with Cuocuo. “Do you like being licked by pokemon?” he asked.

Cuocuo shook his head. “Not really, no, it’s slimy.”

“Does your papa’s pokemon give you hugs? Do you enjoy that?”

“Yeah! Papa’s dedicueye gives the best hugs cause he just wraps all the way around you and holds soooo tight. His gardevior is a close second.” Cuocuo grinned again and turned to look at Feng Xin. “I love the hugs the most.”

Mu Qing nodded. “What about typing, any preferences?” he asked.

“Not fire.” Cuocuo hesitated then, rocking from foot to foot as he glanced between his parents and Mu Qing. “I don’t like fire. Or ghost.”

Mu Qing was silent for a time, thinking, and Feng Xin was trying desperately not to wonder about what was going through his head. He was failing in the same way he always failed when it came to Mu Qing. He just couldn’t keep his mind off of him.

And wasn’t it funny that here and now, with his ex-wife and his son, Feng Xin was getting a brutal reminder of why his relationships didn’t last. It always came back to Mu Qing lingering in his thoughts. He pursed his lips and turned his head away, looking out over the paddocks. There were a lot of different pokemon types out there, some of them that Feng Xin didn’t even recognize. They had to be from different islands. He could recognize Kalos and Alolan pokemon now. And some of the ones from Kanto, but everyone knew the Kanto pokemon.

“—try this one over here. Not ghost, not fire. Cubchoo is an ice type—“ Mu Qing was saying. Feng Xin could see him standing from the corner of his eye, leading Cuocuo over to a covered enclosure. Mu Qing handed Cuocuo a puffy jacket, then opened the door to reveal an ice type wonderland. Snow and ice and gently frosted trees filled the enclosure. There was even a frozen pond.

“Does this use pokeball tech?” he found himself asking, trailing behind Mu Qing and Cuocuo.

Mu Qing hummed. “On a grander scale, yes.”

The enclosure certainly had to be bigger on the inside than it truly was. That, or the holographic quality on the edges was phenomenal.

“How did you get your hands on this?” Feng Xin asked, turning to look at his once friend. It was the wrong phrasing though, made obvious by the way Mu Qing bristled and turned his head away, nose in the air with a haughty “hmph!”

“A good breeder has connections for making the best environments for their charges,” he answered. He turned his head enough to shoot Feng Xin a glare, and Feng Xin ‘tsk’ed at the hostile tone.

“Good for you,” Feng Xin drawled. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Not while Cuocuo and Jian Lan were here.

Mu Qing paused in mid-step, a confused furrow making its way onto his brow.

Feng Xin arched his in response before stepping past Mu Qing. He took Cuocuo’s hand when the boy hesitated on the edge of the doorway, coaxing him in gently. And once they were inside, Cuocuo lost all sense of shyness and launched himself into the snowy environment.

There were snorunts and delibirds, and the occasional vanillish—which Cuocuo stared at openly as he tromped through the shallow snow—but none of them paid the trio much mind. The only ones that did were the aurorus, bending their long necks down to peer at Cuocuo curiously.

“There’s so many!” Cuocuo gasped. He spun around to look at Feng Xin and Mu Qing, a bright grin on his face. He bounded back through the snow to stand at Feng Xin’s side. “Which one is a cubchoo, papa?”

Feng Xin crouched down to be more on Cuocuo’s level, looking over the landscape before pointing carefully. “See that big white beartic?” he asked gently.

“The angry looking one?” Cuocuo asked, following the line of Feng Xin’s arm.

“Mmhmm. There’s a cubchoo right next to it. It’s got the snot dripping from its nose.”

“Ewww. It should blow its nose! Can I go up and say hi?” Cuocuo turned then to look at Mu Qing with wide eyes.

Feng Xin heard Mu Qing’s huff, almost a fond sound.

“Let me come with you. I don’t want her mother to hurt you by accident,” Mu Qing answered.

“Okay!” Cuocuo bounced forward once more, taking Mu Qing’s hand. They made their way carefully to where the beartic and the cubchoo were.

Feng Xin was left to stand there, hands pushed deep in his pockets, and watch as Mu Qing and Cuocuo spoke to each other. He could just see Mu Qing’s face, how it softened at the edges and his words came out far gentler than any Feng Xin could remember.

He pursed his lips, unsettled by the tightening and swirling of his stomach. He wasn’t jealous of his son. It wasn’t Cuocuo’s fault that he and Mu Qing had a rocky past and a not great separation. He simply didn’t know how to feel seeing Mu Qing being so gentle with someone after so many years of prickliness between them. If their years of separation could be called that.

He missed Jian Lan coming up beside him, though he could feel her eyes on him not long after. It was hard to miss the sensation even through his own discomfort.

“You miss him,” she said. It was a statement and not a question. Matter of fact as she often was. “You know, this is the perfect opportunity to get to know him again. You’ve both grown up more.” She patted his shoulder, and Feng Xin scoffed, rubbing at his nose as he turned away.

“As if,” he muttered, “it’s not like he seemed keen to see me. Stop meddling.”

“If I don’t meddle you’ll continue to sulk in my house during family dinners,” she responded dryly, and Feng Xin winced at the truth in the statement.

He couldn’t even say he didn’t. He definitely was sulking last time, and the time before that. He wasn’t jealous of Jian Lan and her relationship with Yushi Huang. Yushi Huang was a lovely woman, and they fit into each other’s lives so well. If anything, Feng Xin was grateful that Jian Lan had found someone she truly loved and cared for, and someone who accepted Cuocuo as her own without hesitation.

He just… Well, he wanted that too. And was it so bad to want that?

Jian Lan gave his shoulder a squeeze, disrupting his thoughts. “You know where he is now. Worry about it later.” She gave him a fond smile and turned her gaze out to Cuocuo and Mu Qing.

Feng Xin followed her gaze and felt himself soften. The cubchoo and Cuocuo were getting along well. Cuocuo was chattering away, his hands flailing wildly in the air, and the cubchoo moved closer and closer until it was practically on top of him. Feng Xin had to admit, it was a good choice. Mu Qing knew what he was doing when it came to pairing new trainers up with their first pokemon.

He smiled as Cuocuo and his cubchoo came running towards them. No doubt they were racing each other. He braced himself just in time as Cuocuo crashed into his legs, giggling madly.

“Papa Papa! Her name is Nana!” Cuocuo beamed up at him and Feng Xin softened even further. He ruffled Cuocuo’s hair and smiled.

“It’s a good name. You like her?” he asked.

“Mmhmm!” He let go of Feng Xin in order to pick up the ice pokemon, hefting her up like 20 pounds was nothing for a child, and grinned. “See Mama! She’s gonna be my best friend!”

Jian Lan smiled as well. “Good. Your pokemon partner should be your best friend. You’ll have to treat her right. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.”

“I know!”

Feng Xin looked up as Mu Qing rejoined them. There was a complicated emotion on his face, but it was one Feng Xin couldn’t read. Or maybe he just didn’t want to read it. He was over thinking things now.

Mu Qing cleared his throat and handed a pokeball over to Cuocuo, which he had to juggle around Nana. “You still need to put her in her ball if you want to take her home.”

“Oh! Right!” Cuocuo set Nana on the ground and crouched to be on her level. “You want to come home with me, right?” he asked.

The cubchoo purred, if that was what the sound could be called, and pushed her head against the pokeball. There was a familiar flare of red light, and she was successfully caught and transferred to Cuocuo’s name.

Cuocuo turned wide eyes to his parents, and Feng Xin couldn’t help the swirl of pride if he tried. His son was growing up.

Jian Lan nudged Feng Xin gently with her elbow. “Mu Qing and I settled up the trade earlier over the phone,” she said, nodding to Mu Qing and then looking at Feng Xin. Her look was meaningful in the same way Mu Qing’s had been undecipherable. “I’ll take Cuocuo back home with me. We’ll see you for dinner tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he answered. He waved back as Cuocuo chirped a merry goodbye, and then it was just him and Mu Qing. No child to buffer between them.

"You moved on fast."

There was the bite. The cold words and colder tone that Feng Xin had been expecting since he first stepped out of his car. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that snapping at Mu Qing was not going to solve anything, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned to look at him.

"It's been fifteen years, Mu Qing, I hardly call that fast," he answered.

Mu Qing scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure. Fifteen years breeds a failed marriage and a kid. How soon after did you hitch yourself to her? Considering your affliction it had to have been fast–"

"Oh fuck off, Mu Qing. Stop fucking assuming the worst of me, asshole."

"Give me a reason. Please. I'm dying to hear one."

“He’s turning seven, if that answers any of your damn questions. I didn’t even meet Jian Lan until I got back from Alola. Eight years ago. I waited seven fucking years—“ Feng Xin sucked in a deep breath and unclenched his fists in his pockets. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Not like you’ve changed, you won’t believe me even with proof.” He blew his bangs out of his face and turned on his heel. “Thanks for being kind to Cuocuo. I’m going home.”

Feng Xin didn’t wait around to see if Mu Qing had anything else to say. He strode across the pasture until he broke free into the parking lot. Fifteen years and nothing had changed since he’d last seen Mu Qing.

Figures.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Feng Xin lifted his head when Jian Lan passed next to him, setting a glass in front of him. He wasn’t sure what was in it, though the glass was beading with condensation and the straw poking out of the top was one of those curly ones that Cuocuo preferred to use. He blinked a few times and then huffed a laugh.

“Is that a riolu on the straw?” he asked. He reached for the glass, sliding it closer and twisting the straw between his fingers. “Should I be worried about what’s in here?”

“Nothing that will impair your judgment,” Jian Lan answered. She sat down across from him, one leg folded over the other, and sipped from a similar glass. “It’s just juice that A’Huang made from her pecha berries. A’Cuo chose the straws.” She spun her own cup around, showing off the jigglypuff clinging to the loops of her straw. “He says crazy straws cheer everyone up.”

Feng Xin smiled despite his dour mood and took a sip. He had to admit, Yushi Huang did make the best juice he’d ever tasted. “I take it Yushi Huang put you up to this talk?” he asked when he put the cup back down. He could hear Yushi Huang and Cuocuo talking just faintly from the living room, and the pot in the kitchen that had dinner was starting to bubble. Silence stretched between the two of them for a long moment before Jian Lan finally sighed.

“No. I put myself to it. You’ve been miserable since you met Mu Qing again. I… sprung that on you, and I’m sorry.” She leaned forward to fold her arms on the table, her manicured nails tapping out a senseless rhythm on her own arm. “I thought after fifteen years, with how you still talked about him, maybe you two just needed a push. But I’m guessing your talk didn’t go very well after A’Cuo and I left.”

“It wasn’t much of a talk.” Feng Xin sat back in his chair, rolling his head to loosen his neck. He left his cup on the table, a little worried about it slipping from his hands. “He just stood there and basically accused me of cheating on him and got all snarky and I left. I waited for eight years for him to reach out again before I even met you. In what world would that be cheating? Fucker.”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

Jian Lan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Just don’t say it where A’Cuo can hear you. He’ll pull out the swear jar again.”

Feng Xin grimaced at that and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “It’s just bullsh— It’s bull that he acts like I abandoned him when he didn’t try either.”

“Did you ever find out what happened in his case?” she asked.

Feng Xin watched the pattern of her nails tapping against her arm, silent for a long moment. “I know he was acquitted and the charges dropped. But they never restored his title. But that was all after he stopped talking to me. I was already in Alola when the case first started.” He pushed his hands into his lap, picking at his nail beds. Mu Qing would have yelled at him about the habit already. Feng Xin wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Have you spoken to Xie Lian since you met Mu Qing again? He might have some more details on what exactly went down, or know why Mu Qing stopped talking to you.”

“Oh, I know why Mu Qing stopped talking to me. That part was easy.” Feng Xin snorted and hid a wince as his finger caught on a hangnail. “He thought I would take Xie Lian’s side. Thought I wouldn’t believe him, or would turn against him at the last minute.” Feng Xin had spent over half his life with the man and still Mu Qing had afforded him only the bare minimum amount of trust. Feng Xin had been fine with it, happy to get even that crumb. It meant Mu Qing had been trying. It meant they weren’t fighting like they did in their younger school years. Their relationship had been rocky but they had been trying . Feng Xin had thought for the first time that maybe they’d been making headway on understanding each other.

Until Feng Xin’s summer project took him to Alola, and Mu Qing challenged the Elite Four and the Champion alone. Feng Xin had watched the match on his shitty little phone screen, ignoring his professor in favor of watching his boyfriend battle and win . One after the other, each Elite Four member falling to Mu Qing’s team and then Xie Lian, who smiled big enough for both of them when Mu Qing defeated him.

They’d all video called that night, celebrating Mu Qing’s success the best way they could with so much distance between them. When everyone else had left and it had just been Mu Qing and Feng Xin left on the call, they’d talked into the early morning hours and Feng Xin had made a promise to come see Mu Qing and really celebrate as soon as his summer semester was over. He’d only had another month.

A month was just long enough for everything to fall apart.

Scandal after scandal, people saying Mu Qing cheated, the executive board of the gym trials refusing to acknowledge Mu Qing as the champion. Mu Qing got caught in a storm he couldn’t weather and he’d cut off all contact instead of accepting help. He hadn’t even let Feng Xin get a word in edgewise before he’d broken off their relationship, told Feng Xin to never call him again, and then blocked his number.

Feng Xin had had two weeks left of his summer semester and he couldn’t remember a damn thing about them.

Jian Lan heaved a sigh and leaned across the table, patting Feng Xin’s arm gently. “Look, I’m not good at this, you know that. But I think you should try and talk to him again. You have to be straight forward, you know what he’s like. But we’re all tired of seeing you so sad, A’Xin.”

“M’not sad.”

“And that’s the most blatant lie you’ve ever told me outside of ‘I love you’.”

A hot flush raced up the back of Feng Xin’s neck and he scratched at the back of his head. “It wasn’t—“

“Ah. We’ve gone over this already, I’m just teasing you. The point is Feng Xin that you need to talk to him again. You’re miserable knowing he’s here and not talking to you.”

He wrinkled his nose slightly. “I wouldn’t say miserable—“

“Feng Xin.”

He fell silent, looking across the table at her. She had that steely determination in her eyes, a firm set to her mouth that said she wasn’t going to be accepting any excuses he could possibly leverage. And alright, he had been miserable for the last week and a half and everyone could see it but that didn’t mean he wanted to acknowledge it.

He let the silence between them drag on long enough that he could pick out Cuocuo’s laughter and Yushi Huang’s quiet congratulations as he beat her at whatever game they were playing. His heart gave a painful knock inside his chest and Feng Xin dropped his head into his hands. “Fine.” He scrubbed at his face and puffed out a breath of air that did little to calm the swirl of emotions inside his chest. “I’ll try again.”

“Good.” She pulled her hand back to clap them together. “Now, come help me finish dinner and I’ll tell you about A’Cuo’s latest endeavor with getting out of chores.” She stood, grabbing her glass and Feng Xin’s, and stepped quickly to the kitchen. “Come on A’Xin!”

Feng Xin smiled despite himself and followed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The cafe was quiet for the time of day. The lunch rush had never really come, and things seemed to be calm. Or perhaps that was just because no one really visited this cafe. Xie Lian’s baked goods seemed to scare most of the customers away even with his husband’s help.

At least the drinks were good.

Feng Xin sipped at his coffee and eyed Pei Ming across the table as the older man put another packet of sugar in his tea before slipping another packet to Cuocuo as well. “Jian Lan will kill you if you give him cavities,” he said flatly.

“I’m not scared of Jian Lan,” Pei Ming said with a grin. He set an elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. “Her wife is scarier, but don’t worry. One little sugar packet isn’t gonna hurt him, is it Cuocuo?”

“I brush and floss every day. Sugar is fine, papa,” Cuocuo answered. He glanced up at Feng Xin with a bright smile and then back down under the table, unsubtly sliding burnt pieces of his cinnamon roll to Nana. “Besides, we’re here so you can tell Uncle Pei about Mr. Mu.”

Feng Xin flushed almost immediately and choked on his coffee, his eyes watering as he coughed it back up into his hand. “That is not—“

Cuocuo looked up at him with wide eyes, not looking away even when he dropped the rest of his cinnamon roll into Nana’s open mouth.

Feng Xin closed his mouth with a snap and huffed, turning his attention down to the table. He was cornered on all sides. Everyone and their Pidgey had an opinion on his love life, including his son. He really needed to teach Cuocuo to not be so nosy. Not that it would stick. Jian Lan would just encourage the behavior.

Cuocuo was giggling though, and Feng Xin couldn’t help the way he softened at it. If his son was happy, then a little embarrassment was worth it. Didn’t mean he liked it anymore though when Pei Ming laughed and leaned back in his chair.

“Oh wow, you are whipped.” Pei Ming grinned at him as he crossed his legs. His Cubone was sitting beside him, a poffin held between its paws as it munched on it slowly. It spared Feng Xin a glance from beneath the skull it wore and then looked back down.

Feng Xin got the distinct impression that the Cubone was laughing at him as well.

“So, let me see if I have all of this straight. You found your ex by accident when your other ex set up an appointment to get your son his first pokemon. Which your first ex had no idea your son existed because you lost contact with each other when he decided to break off all contact. So now you’re struggling because he’s back and you know he’s back but you can’t bring yourself to do anything about it.” Pei Ming cocked his head to the side and reached forward to grab his smoothie, taking a pointed sip. “That sum it up?”

Feng Xin sighed and put his cup down. It sounded so pathetic when Pei Ming put it that way. But it wasn’t easy. They’d been in the same town for years now. They had to have been if Mu Qing had established himself as a breeder with good rapport. That doesn’t happen over night, it takes years and years to build up to that point. Which meant Mu Qing had never sought him out. Never bothered to see if Feng Xin had come back from Alola. Never asked Xie Lian or Hua Cheng about his whereabouts like Feng Xin had his.

It fuckin’ hurt that Mu Qing seemed to care so little but got so upset over the fact Feng Xin had tried to be happy. Feng Xin didn’t know what Mu Qing wanted.

Pei Ming reached across the table, putting his hand lightly over Feng Xin’s. “Hey. Look at me.” He waited just long enough for Feng Xin to lift his head and smiled at him, something softer and a little more true than the one he usually used. “What happened wasn’t your fault, alright? He cut contact with you, not the other way around. You tried to reach out, and he didn’t respond. No feeling guilty about that, alright?”

Feng Xin huffed and cut his gaze away. That was the same thing his therapist had said not too long after the break up. He knew, logically, that was right, but it didn’t feel any better.

“Now.” Pei Ming tapped his hand, getting Feng Xin to focus back on him. “Have you tried talking to him since Cuocuo adopted Nana?”

“No. We didn’t exactly leave off on the best of terms.”

“Pity. I would suggest trying that first. He didn’t turn tail and run when he saw you before, so it’s a step up from completely avoiding you.”

Feng Xin’s mouth twisted, but before he could say anything the bell above the door jingled merrily as someone walked in. Feng Xin glanced, curious, and then fell still. Who else but Mu Qing would come to Xie Lian’s cafe, notorious for burnt goods but good drinks. But Mu Qing wasn’t alone. Mu Qing had another man with him. Tall and clearly buff by the way his shoulders filled out his jacket, with long, curly hair tied in a high ponytail. This man that Feng Xin didn’t know was chatting exuberantly, his hands flying through the air as he described something.

Feng Xin had no idea what he was talking about. Everything was white noise, narrowed down into the beat of his heart as it chanted Mu Qing, Mu Qing, Mu Qing. 

Xie Lian came around the counter, smiling wide and giving Mu Qing a hug that lifted his feet off the ground. He seemed to know the new guy if his laughter and conversation was anything to go by. Even Hua Cheng knew who he was since he didn’t object to him touching Xie Lian. Only Feng Xin didn’t know.

Was it a boyfriend? Potential boyfriend? Or just a friend? A client? Who—

“A’Xin.”

Pei Ming’s voice broke through and Feng Xin blinked harshly, turning his attention back to Pei Ming. He realized belatedly that he had been holding Pei Ming’s hand hard enough that it had to have hurt, and he let go with a flustered blush.

“Papa, are you okay?” Cuocuo asked softly.

Feng Xin took a breath and ruffled Cuocuo’s hair gently. “Yeah, I’m fine bud. No worries.”

Cuocuo narrowed his eyes at him, just like his mother, and caught Feng Xin’s hand as it left his head. “Is Papa telling the truth?”

Feng Xin laughed and used his foot to tug Cuocuo’s chair closer to him so that he could hug his son with one arm. “Yes, A’Cuo, I’m telling the truth. I’m fine. Promise.”

Cuocuo took him at his word and relaxed again, tugging Nana up into his lap so he could pet the ears of the Cubchoo. Pei Ming, however, leveled Feng Xin with an unimpressed look that said he trusted nothing Feng Xin had said. But Feng Xin could only shake his head. Now certainly wasn’t the time for him to air any of that in front of Cuocuo, and it wouldn’t do any of them any good if Feng Xin got lost in thought and trapped in the spiral again.

He couldn’t be possessive of a man that wasn’t his and hadn’t been his in 15 years. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

Instead he picked up his coffee cup and sipped from it as Mu Qing and the new man placed their orders and waited by the counter. From here he could see Mu Qing’s profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw. Even the downturn of his lips right before theY rose in the smallest of smiles and a quiet laugh.

How long had it been since he’d heard Mu Qing laugh?

He caught Pei Ming’s pitying look and kicked him under the table, causing Pei Ming to hiss in pain and scoot his legs back.

“Rude,” Pei Ming muttered.

Feng Xin chose to ignore him.

Mu Qing and his companion collected their drinks from a bubbly Xie Lian and turned to go sit. It was here that Mu Qing paused, his eyes widening just a fraction. Feng Xin could only assume it was because he saw them. He offered Mu Qing a smile, tight though it was, and received a cold glare in response.

Feng Xin hadn’t even done anything, what had Mu Qing’s panties in a twist?

He huffed and turned his eyes away, downing the rest of his coffee in one bitter swallow. Whatever. Fuck him. If he didn’t even want to try why should Feng Xin have to offer the olive branch again and again.

“Hi, Mr. Mu!” Cuocuo called, waving a hand cheerfully. He paused and then lifted Nana’s paw to wave as well. “Do you know Uncle Xie and Uncle Hua too?”

Mu Qing was forced to pause, and Feng Xin didn’t know whether to thank his son or curse him for speaking up in the first place.

“Of course. We grew up together.” Mu Qing sounded flat, unimpressed, but there was a little bit of amusement there. Feng Xin could pick it out just barely.

“Really?” Cuocuo blinked wide eyes at him. “How come I’ve never seen you here before then? Papa and I come here all the time! Uncle Hua makes the best hot chocolate, even if Uncle Xie’s baking isn’t very good.”

The honesty of children.

Feng Xin and Pei Ming both couldn’t contain their laughter. Feng Xin smothered it out, covering it up with a cough so he didn’t hurt Xie Lian’s feelings. Not that Xie Lian didn’t already know but still . It was the thought that counted. Still, it was much harder to keep a straight face when even Mu Qing looked like he was holding back a laugh.

“I’ve been busy. Excuse me.” Mu Qing gave a tight but polite smile and walked away, cradling his tea with both hands as he took a seat with that man.

Cuocuo was silent for a moment before he looked at Feng Xin. “Papa. You have your work cut out for you.”

Feng Xin sputtered and Pei Ming laughed so hard tears came to the corners of his eyes.

“Called out by your son, you really are down bad!”

“Shut up !” Feng Xin hissed. He could feel himself blushing all the way down the back of his neck and he kicked out at Pei Ming childishly. Pei Ming moved his legs in time, and to make matters worse he was still laughing.

The laughter caught Xie Lian’s attention and he came over to their table with a bright smile, drink refills in hand. He set them down and leveled a look at the two of them, one that Feng Xin knew for a fact meant that Xie Lian wanted to know exactly what was funny and also how Feng Xin was doing.

Feng Xin flushed harder and took the refill, holding the cup in his hands as though it could protect him from every nosy Nancy in the building.

Pei Ming finally got himself under control, wiping at his eyes as he leaned forward. “Ah, Feng Xin, I hope Cuocuo never changes. He’s great just like this.”

Cuocuo blinked and looked up at Xie Lian. “Uncle Xie, I don’t know what I did.”

Feng Xin could feel Mu Qing’s eyes on him from across the cafe. He wanted to sink into a hole. Maybe Arceus would take pity and tear a hole in the universe and take him with it. Unlikely but he could hope. He sipped at the coffee and ignored the fact he would be up late with the jitters now. Too much coffee in too little time.

“That’s alright, Cuocuo. Not everyone understands Pei Ming’s jokes.” Xie Lian put a hand on Cuocuo’s head and ruffled his hair gently. “What are you three whispering about over here?” He raised both brows, looking at Feng Xin pointedly. Feng Xin could see it from the corner of his eyes.

“About Papa and Mr. Mu!” Cuocuo chirped, and Feng Xin hissed quietly.

“A’Cuo not so loud please.”

“Mama says that Papa still likes Mr. Mu but they’re fighting, and Papa came to talk to Uncle Pei about it because he’s upset that Mr. Mu and him fought after I got Nana and Papa doesn’t wanna take Mama’s advice about just talking to him. Even though Uncle Pei is saying the same thing.” He did lower his voice, but only to a normal speaking level. “I think Papa is being silly and should just talk to him too.”

Feng Xin put his cup down so he could hide his face in his hands. Not one person in this room was on his side.

Xie Lian tutted gently and put a hand on Feng Xin’s shoulder. “There’s a bit more to it than that, A’Cuo. There’s a lot of history between the two of them that isn’t easy to reconcile.”

Feng Xin corrected his statement. One person was on his side.

“They both got hurt, and time doesn’t always make that easier. So while Feng Xin knows what he should do, it’s a lot harder to be brave enough to do it,” Xie Lian said.

Cuocuo gasped. “No way, my Papa is the bravest . He wouldn’t be scared of talking .”

“You’re a little too young to get it yet, Cuocuo,” Pei Ming said. He leaned forward and tapped gently at Feng Xin’s hands, getting him to lower them begrudgingly. “Your Papa is very brave, yes--” He shot Feng Xin a smile that made Feng Xin’s ears heat up. “—but talking has never been his strong suit. You see that with your Mama and your A’Niang all the time, right?”

Cuocuo nodded slowly, though his slightly narrowed eyes gave away that he didn’t quite grasp what Pei Ming was saying.

“Well, if Feng Xin has issues talking to your Mama, how do you imagine it would go if he tried to talk to someone who was very very important to him, but also very very angry at. Do you talk to your friends when you’re angry at them?”

Cuocuo blinked and shook his head. “No. I wait till I’m not angry. But if it was sooo long ago, before I was born, why is Papa still angry?”

Feng Xin sighed quietly. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I’m not angry at him, A’Cuo. I’m just… hurt. Remember when Xiao Ji said he couldn’t be your friend anymore? How upset you were? That’s how I feel. Mu Qing was my best friend. He was to me what Yushi Huang is to your Mama. And then one day he told me he didn’t want to be friends anymore and stopped talking to me.”

Cuocuo paused, his face twisting until it settled into a deep frown. “That’s not very nice…”

“No. It isn’t,” Feng Xin agreed. “So I’m not angry, just upset. It’s nothing that won’t go away with time, it’s just harder when I’m learning new things about what happened all those years ago.” Like Mu Qing not seeking him out for the entirety of the time he’d been back on the mainland.

Cuocuo reached across the table to take one of Feng Xin’s hands, squeezing it like Feng Xin would do when Cuocuo needed comfort. “It’s okay, Papa. We’ll figure it out! There’s nothing we can’t do together!”

Feng Xin couldn’t help but smile and squeeze his hand back. “Thanks bud. We’ll figure it out.”

Xie Lian hummed quietly, pulling his hands away and folding them in front of him. “You know, Feng Xin, he’s here on business right now.” He cast a glance towards Mu Qing, and Feng Xin followed his gaze.

Mu Qing was back to looking at whoever was sitting across from him, his brow furrowed as his fingers tapped against the side of his cup. It looked like he was arguing with the man quietly. Feng Xin shifted his gaze back to Xie Lian when he cleared his throat gently.

“And Mu Qing did ask after you, a few times. But he made me promise not to say anything until you two had met up again. I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said softly.

Feng Xin had a headache forming. “It’s not your fault, Xie Lian. You just… got caught in the middle.” He waved a hand and shook his head. “It’s whatever at this point. I already told Jian Lan I’d try talking to him again.”

“Then why did you ask my opinion?” Pei Ming asked with an arched brow. “Or were you actually scared to do it?”

Feng Xin pinned him with a flat look.

Cuocuo patted Feng Xin’s hand and then picked up his refilled drink. “It’s okay, Papa. I’ll go with you!”

This was absolutely going to be a recipe for disaster and Mu Qing was never going to speak to him again, but at this point, what did Feng Xin have to lose? Certainly not his pride or Mu Qing’s attention because he didn’t have either of those things anymore. Nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

“Fuck it, why not. We can stop by and see him at the nursery tomorrow,” Feng Xin said on a sigh.

“Papa, that’s 5 in the swear jar,” Cuocuo said. He held his cup in one hand and held out the other expectantly.

Feng Xin looked at Cuocuo. Really looked at him. Of course his son would say that. Didn’t Jian Lan say that he was back on the swear jar? He heaved a sigh and pulled out 5 pokedollars, passing them over. “At this rate I’ll end up paying for all of your schooling.” It was said with a teasing tone though, and Cuocuo just grinned up at him.

Pei Ming leaned forward to rest his chin in his hand again, looking past Feng Xin to the far table. “Tomorrow I think would be an excellent plan. Let me know if you need a drinking buddy when you get back.” He flicked his gaze to Feng Xin and Feng Xin met it straight on. “Your paramour doesn’t look very happy to see us sitting together.”

Feng Xin lifted both of his brows at that and turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse, only to see Mu Qing turning his head away sharply, a flush at the tips of his ears and his eyes narrowed in what had to be anger. “I didn’t even do anything,” Feng Xin grouched.

“You do look like you’re on a date with me though,” Pei Ming commented.

Feng Xin leaned back in his chair, his brows raising sharply before he barked out a laugh. Him and Pei Ming? Yeah right. Maybe if they were both drunk or high off a pokemon battle or a good 20 years younger they’d fool around but nothing permanent could come from that. The sheer thought of it put Feng Xin in stitches.

A bang startled him, and he looked up to see Mu Qing storming out of the cafe in a huff with his hands clenched. Feng Xin reached for Cuocuo, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze to help settle him from the loud noise.

Pei Ming grinned and sipped at his drink slowly. “Have fun with that, A’Xin. Good luck.” He dropped the smile after a moment longer. “I mean it though. If things go sideways, or if you need an out, call me. I’m always here for you.”

Feng Xin took a deep breath, watching Xie Lian slip away to handle the remaining customer. He squeezed Cuocuo’s shoulder again, just quickly, before he shot Pei Ming a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep you updated.”

Pei Ming nodded and leaned back once more, offering his cubone another poffin. “Take your gardevoir with you, as a peace token. Mu Qing gave it to you right? If you show you still have it instead of trading it away then maybe you can get back into his good graces. Or don’t, your choice.”

“He knows I still have her,” Feng Xin said softly. If he looked out the window at just the right angle he could see Mu Qing walking down the street with a bunneary at his feet. He went silent, watching until Mu Qing was out of view. He had his gardevior, and Mu Qing still had his bunneary. Their first pokemon, raised from the egg together.

Maybe things weren’t quite so hopeless as he thought.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The moment they parked at the nursery, Cuocuo launched himself from the car and let Nana out of her pokeball. He giggled wildly as the cubchoo raced around him in circles, and finally reached out to catch her. He didn’t get bowled over, but it was a near thing.

Feng Xin was slower to get out of the vehicle, and he did it with a fond smile and a quiet sigh of exasperation. He couldn’t fault Cuocuo for his relationship with Nana. His own relationship with Ming-Hua was extraordinarily close. It was just part of them being your first partner.

Feng Xin and his gardevoir were always closer than Feng Xin and his decidueye, even if Kuai had been the one to carry most of the weight in their early pokemon battling years.

Feng Xin thumbed over the pokeball on his waist. Even though he knew it wasn’t, it still seemed like it was warm under his touch. Comforting. Ming-Hua always knew how to soothe him, even when he didn’t know he needed it.

“Papa! Are we going to go see Mr. Mu now?” Cuocuo asked. He hefted Nana into his arms again, turning around and bouncing on his toes. “Are you gonna talk to him like Mama said you should?”

Feng Xin flushed and pulled his hand away from Ming-Hua’s pokeball, shoving his hands instead into his pockets. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.” Cuocuo stopped his bouncing and cocked his head to the side. Feng Xin got the distinct impression that he was being seen through and judged. Not an uncommon thing for his son, not when Jian Lan did the same thing so often he barely flinched at it anymore. “I want you to be happy, Papa. So please try, okay?”

How miserable had Feng Xin been that even Cuocuo was pleading for him to try? He pursed his lips for a moment just to control his knee jerk reaction and instead ruffled Cuocuo’s hair quickly. “Don’t worry about me so much, A’Cuo. That’s not your job, okay? Your job is to keep being a kid.”

Cuocuo wrinkled his nose but nodded after some hesitation. “If you say so.”

“Well, I do. So, let’s go on in and you can play while I talk with Mu Qing.” Feng Xin was going to be the bigger person here. They were going to sort this out and not just for himself. But because they owed it to each other.

Despite this, Feng Xin did let Cuocuo lead the way into the building. The sign over the door looked freshly painted, but the wood was old and chipped. Feng Xin hadn’t focused on it the last time he was here since that had been all about Cuocuo and his choice, but now Feng Xin could see the signs of wear and of time. Did Mu Qing get the place second hand?

Did Mu Qing put all of his funding into better living situations for the pokemon rather than himself?

That didn’t sound like the Mu Qing he’d known all those years ago. The Mu Qing who had been so determined to rise to the top just to feel like he was on par with everyone else. The Mu Qing that Feng Xin had spent years trying to coax into realizing that being the best wasn’t always what was best.

Cuocuo’s shoes made tapping sounds as he ran further inside, still carrying Nana, and his voice rose in a cheerful hello when he spotted Mu Qing. Feng Xin, however, hung back a little towards the entrance. There were pictures hung there. Mu Qing at the graduation for his breeding license, his actual license displayed above it in a simple but elegant frame. Another of Mu Qing and Xie Lian when they were younger, laughing at something off camera.

Feng Xin remembered that photo, actually. It had been taken just days before he’d left for Alola and they were laughing at him because he’d slipped in a mud puddle and gone down hard. Hua Cheng had taken the photo. Right after, Mu Qing had come to help Feng Xin stand up and wiped the mud from his face with that stupid fond smile that Feng Xin still saw in his dreams.

He had a copy that lived in his wallet because it was one of the last photos he had of Mu Qing smiling.

He turned his attention from that photo, swallowing past the knot in his throat and the twist of his stomach. The other side of the entry way had a picture of a young Mu Qing and his mother, with his bunneary perched on his shoulder and an egg in his hands. That was the egg containing Ming-Hua, though Feng Xin hadn’t known it at the time. It was the second egg Mu Qing had ever received, and instead of keeping it he had gifted it to Feng Xin on his birthday.

Their lives really had been so thoroughly intertwined growing up that it felt strange to not see pictures of himself on the walls. He was cropped carefully out of some of the photos—like the one below Mu Qing’s mother that had Mu Qing and Xie Lian both making funny faces at the camera. Feng Xin was supposed to be on the other side of Xie Lian, but he was cut out of the photo.

Considering their break, he couldn’t fault Mu Qing for not hanging photos with him, but it didn’t stop the sting either when Feng Xin knew he had tried to keep things going. He’d gotten nothing but silence back. Even Mu Qing being angry with him would have been better than the silence that eroded everything between them.

Feng Xin blinked, sucked in a deep breath, and turned his head again to find Cuocuo. It wasn’t exactly difficult. The boy was chatting animatedly with an alolan meowth, petting it under the chin with one hand and gesturing with the other. Mu Qing stood just to the side, arms crossed and expression warm.

He always had been good with kids. The fact it was Feng Xin’s kid didn’t seem to make a difference.

Feng Xin couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in the calm expression on Mu Qing’s face. There was no scowl, no death glare to draw his brows down or sneer to twist his face into a facsimile of ugliness. There was no look on Mu Qing’s face that wouldn’t be beautiful.

Man, he really did still have it bad.

The moment Mu Qing noticed Feng Xin was staring though, the peace was over. His mouth tightened into a thin line, the warmth of his eyes hardening to obsidian. Everything about Mu Qing was like lava rock forced to cool too quickly.

“Can I help you?” Mu Qing asked. His voice was frosty and impersonal. It was like it was designed specifically to get under Feng Xin’s skin to filet him open. Feng Xin found himself bristling, but a look from Cuocuo had him putting his hackles back down.

He wasn’t here to pick a fight.

“I wanted to talk with you.” Feng Xin hoped his voice sounded more confident than he actually felt. “ Actually talk with you. Not snipe at each other like we have the last two times. We have… We have a lot to talk about.”

Mu Qing’s nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed even further. “As far as you’re concerned, we have nothing to talk about. You’re a client and nothing more.”

Feng Xin gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “Hey, A’Cuo, would you mind taking Ming-Hua and Nana and going to play outside?” he asked carefully.

Cuocuo froze mid-scratch of the alolan meowth’s chin and looked between Feng Xin and Mu Qing carefully. “Papa?” he asked carefully. A thousand questions were buried in that one, and Feng Xin softened himself to smile at his son.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen. This is just a conversation that you don’t need to hear, okay?” Feng Xin pulled Ming-Hua’s pokeball from his belt, leaving Kuai’s there, and passed it to Cuocuo. “Go have fun. Be a kid,” he said softly as he ruffled Cuocuo’s hair.

Cuocuo curled his fingers around Ming-Hua’s pokeball and nodded. He was still concerned, of course he would be, but he still took Nana with him as he left to play outside. Feng Xin was grateful. If this turned into a yelling match he didn’t want Cuocuo to be witness to it.

Silence stretched between Mu Qing and Feng Xin as the door closed and the sound of Cuocuo’s footsteps got further away. Mu Qing was holding onto his arms tightly, but he wasn’t glaring at Feng Xin anymore. Feng Xin would count that as a win.

“You still have Ming-Hua,” Mu Qing said after a long pause.

Feng Xin blinked. “Of course I still have Ming-Hua. You gave her to me. You didn’t really think I’d trade her away just because you stopped talking to me, did you?”

The purse of Mu Qing’s lips told Feng Xin that he had thought exactly that.

Feng Xin heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look. Mu Qing… What happened then… What happened then? I tried and tried to call you but you stopped answering.”

Mu Qing’s jaw worked, and instead of responding he turned around and headed deeper into the building. He managed a handful of steps before turning to look at Feng Xin over his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, and then kept going.

Feng Xin scrambled to follow after him, falling into step just behind and to the side. Mu Qing led them to what was clearly the private quarters of the nursery, where Mu Qing actually lived. The living room was neat and tidy with a handful of second hand furniture, and the kitchen was small but no less neat. There was no clutter anywhere to be seen.

It was here, in the safety of Mu Qing’s own space, that Feng Xin finally saw pictures of them together. Their first date at the fair, their ride on the S.S. Anne during their senior trip, their first pokemon battle when they were just learning what it meant to be a trainer… These photos were posted on the wall next to photos of Mu Qing and his mother, and next to photos of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng.

Feng Xin paused mid step to stare at them, putting his foot back down slowly. From the way Mu Qing had been acting, he had thought for sure that these photos would have been taken down and… what? Burned, probably? Disposed of? Or at the very least hidden.

He turned slowly to find Mu Qing. Mu Qing, who was in the kitchen, putting water on to boil and pulling out tea leaves. Two kinds of tea leaves, one for him and one for— He remembered the tea Feng Xin preferred to drink when he wasn’t drinking coffee. It didn’t make sense. If Mu Qing was so angry at him, if Mu Qing had broken everything off and then had the nerve to be pissed at Feng Xin, why was all of this here? Why had Mu Qing never sought Feng Xin out after he came home?

“Mu Qing,” he started slowly, watching carefully to see how the words would be received.

Yet Mu Qing didn’t say anything, nor did he react. Instead he put the tea in to steep and stared at the far wall for a long, long moment. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Feng Xin. It’s in the past.” He grabbed the tea cups and brushed past Feng Xin to the sitting room, setting down one cup at the far end of the table and then taking his to sit on the chair.

He tucked his feet up under him, and Feng Xin couldn’t help the pang in his chest. Mu Qing only sat like that when he was nervous. Defeated. Scared and hiding from something. Scared and hiding from him.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that after the tirade you went on last time I was here.” The words were sharper than Feng Xin had meant them to be, but who could fault him his frustration? “You basically accused me of cheating on you when you’re the one that cut contact.”

“What do you want, Feng Xin?” Mu Qing asked sharply. He tipped his head back, looking up at Feng Xin from his seat. His hands were curled around the mug like he was seeking warmth from it.

“You!” Feng Xin’s teeth clicked together as he closed his mouth, and he sat down on the opposing couch with a heavy sigh. He slid the cup closer to him, watching as the color of the tea swirled with the hot water. “I want you. In my life. As my friend, or partner, or even just an acquaintance because we spent so much time together and to have that rug ripped out from underneath me really fucking sucked, alright?”

He turned the cup slowly on the table, listening to the way it dragged and caught on the wood grain. “I missed you.” Mu Qing’s scoff was enough to make Feng Xin look up with a glare. “I mean it, asshole. I missed you every day for 15 fucking years. You’re right in front of me and I still miss you.”

Mu Qing’s eyes went wide before his expression shuttered and he lowered his eyes to the cup in his hands. “Careful, Feng Xin, or I’ll think you still love me,” he said wryly.

“I do.”

Mu Qing’s head jerked up and a tell tale blush dusted his cheeks. His mouth opened and closed a few times before pursing into a thin line.

Feng Xin held up a hand before Mu Qing spoke. “You don’t have to feel the same, but you’ve spent fifteen years ignoring me so you’re going to listen now, Mu Qing.” He took a pointed sip of his tea as he stared Mu Qing down, waiting until he got a very shallow nod and a sour look. “I still love you,” he started, “I have loved you my whole life and that will never change. You know me. Loyal and stupid.”

That got Mu Qing to crack a smile that he quickly hid behind the lip of his cup.

“I didn’t— I don’t understand why you pushed me away when the scandal happened. I kept track of it. I know you didn’t do anything. I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me help aside from your pride, but I had thought we were past that then.” Feng Xin’s jaw worked for a moment and he heaved a sigh. “I meant it though, when I said I was here for you. I’m always going to be here for you. My relationship with Jian Lan didn’t last beyond two years of marriage. We were friends, I thought she was helping me get over you, but marrying her was a mistake. We both agreed it was a mistake. I’m not sorry that A’Cuo came out of it, but I do regret taking that long to see that I was never over you.”

“What about that guy from the cafe?” Mu Qing was clearly trying to keep his voice level, but the bitterness still seeped through.

Feng Xin laughed softly and shook his head. “Pei Ming? Nah. Maybe in a life where I hadn’t met you first. He’s just a good friend. Willing to tell it to me straight instead of beating around the bush like Xie Lian.”

Mu Qing was silent for a time after that, spinning his cup idly in his hands. Feng Xin let him sit in silence, let him think about everything he’d said. He took the time to drink his tea, in silent awe at the fact it was still perfect like the last time Mu Qing had made it for him.

“I’m not… I’m not sure I can be that. Again. What we were before,” Mu Qing said, his voice soft. He kept his eyes on his cup. “A lot of things have changed. I’ve changed. You love the me you knew in college.”

“You’re still you, Qing’er, even if you went for a breeding license instead of doing contests. You’re not that different.”

Mu Qing looked up at him with an eyeroll. “You’ve seen me three times in the last two weeks and think you know everything, don’t you.”

Feng Xin grinned and leaned forward, putting his cup down on the table. “See? Still you.”

“I mean it, Feng Xin. I don’t think I can be in a relationship right now. Not with you.”

Feng Xin lifted a shoulder in a shrug. It stung, but he hadn’t expected anything else. He hadn’t come here looking to rekindle their romance—even if he had secretly hoped they could one day. “I’m not asking for a relationship. Fifteen years is a long time, and you’re right. I don’t know you as well as I did. I’m asking you to be my friend again.”

Mu Qing pursed his lips and gave a slow nod. “I can do friends.”

Feng Xin smiled, bright and warm, and for the first time in fifteen years there was a glimmer of joy in his chest. “Cuocuo’s birthday is next week. You should come. Xie Lian will be there, and we can all catch up.”

Mu Qing was blushing again, this time all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Okay.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He was nervous. Logically Feng Xin had no reason to be nervous because Mu Qing’s arrival didn’t matter in the scheme of things for Cuocuo’s birthday. And yet still nerves crept through him and turned his stomach because sure, Mu Qing had agreed to come, but what if he didn’t. What if he decided to blow Feng Xin off again like before? What if they ground right back into level 0 and drifted apart forever?

Feng Xin wasn’t sure he could take that. He’d done it once, he couldn’t do it a second time.

The door to the apartment swung open again, and Cuocuo let out a cheer as Xie Lian and Hua Cheng walked in. Feng Xin leaned against the kitchen counter, a thumb tucked into his jean pocket as he cradled a soda in his other hand. Cuocuo was bouncing around his two favorite psuedo uncles, chattering at them exuberantly.

Yushi Huang set down the final batch of cupcakes she had been making, the metal pan clinking against the counter top. “He will come,” she said lightly.

Feng Xin jolted slightly, turning his head to look at her. “That obvious huh?”

“Feng Xin, you have never been subtle.” Yushi Huang removed her oven mitts and carefully started to pull the cupcakes out of the pan, placing them on the cooling rack instead. “Focus on your son. A’Cuo has been very excited for today.”

He sighed and set his soda down in a relatively safe, empty spot on the counter. He then moved to help Yushi Huang, aligning the cupcakes so that they would cool faster in time for the rest of the party. It wasn’t even time for anyone to show up yet. They were still setting up.

He had no reason to be nervous about Mu Qing not showing. There was at least another hour before anyone was going to show.

Feng Xin’s hands stilled over a cupcake and he groaned, letting his head fall back. “I feel like a teenager all over again. Except then I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him or kiss him.”

Yushi Huang laughed and the sound was gentle and not unkind. She rested a hand on Feng Xin’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “But the anxiety never changes, does it?” She took the cupcake from his hands and put it down on the cooling rack. “It just means you never stopped caring. Although, we did already know that.”

He wrinkled his nose, ignoring the way his face warmed. “That’s not…”

She only smiled at him and Feng Xin was left to sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair and mussing it even more than it already was.

“We’re just friends. Trying to be friends.” Feng Xin glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “I’m just… worried that it’ll fall apart again.”

Yushi Huang hummed. She put the tray in the sink and washed her hands, then turned back to mix the frosting for the cupcakes. “I think,” she said after a long time, “that you should focus more on the present, and less on the past. Give your friendship time to grow before you worry about it failing. All seeds need time and care, but too much care is not good for it either.”

Jian Lan stepped into the kitchen carrying a slightly smoking concoction. “A'Huang, is he catastrophizing again?” She set the plate down on the counter closest to the fridge, giving it a concerned look. “Xie Lian brought… snacks. I think.”

Feng Xin made a high pitched sound, something between a whine and a groan. “I am not cata—“

“He is,” Yushi Huang spoke over him.

Jian Lan huffed and turned to face Feng Xin, one hand on her hip. “Look. A’Xin. A’Huang is right, you need to give it time and that means trusting that Mu Qing is going to show up. If he doesn’t, and he leaves you in the lurch again like before, then it isn’t meant to be and I’ll get one of the girls to go egg his house or something. If, on the other hand, he does spark your relationship back up and he hurts you, there will be hell to pay. It’s not going to be like before. You aren’t stuck in Alola without your support system. So take a deep breath, remind yourself that you’re a strong, independent man with a loving son, and go hang out with your friends and your kid on his birthday.”

Feng Xin blinked once, twice, and then pointed at the plate of black smoke by the fridge. “You should throw that in the trash.”

“Feng Xin.”

“I hear you, I hear you, I’m going.” Feng Xin grabbed his soda and retreated from the kitchen. Cuocuo was still chatting with Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, seated on the couch now as he bounced his legs. Nana was sitting on the floor next to his feet, occasionally sniffling and making quiet cooing sounds.

Kuai and Ming-hua were in opposite corners of the room, watching over everything as sentries. Or mostly watching Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s floette’s anyway, as the two fairy types danced around each other overhead. They almost seemed to be play acting the story that Cuocuo was telling. It was something about him and his friends from school “training” for being pokemon trainers.

Feng Xin smiled, crossing over to Cuocuo and gently messing up his hair. He sat on the other side of Cuocuo, resting his ankle on his knee. “You’ve still got some time before you’ll be a full fledged trainer,” he said, mostly teasing.

Cuocuo ducked his head with a giggle, straightening out his hair. “Papa,” he admonished. “That doesn’t mean I can’t get stronger now. And then when I’m ready to take on the gyms I’ll be able to beat Uncle Xie too!”

Xie Lian choked briefly on his tea and he waved a hand in front of his face. “A’Cuo, I’m not part of the gym circuit anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Cuocuo said with a brilliant gap-toothed grin. “I can still challenge you when I’m older! You won’t hold back on me, will you Uncle Xie? I want to be the strongest trainer! Like Red from Kanto!”

Xie Lian grimaced slightly and rubbed at the back of his head. “Well…”

Feng Xin laughed. “You have to beat all the gyms, the elite four, and the champion before you can challenge A’Lian. Then he can tell you yes or no.”

“Papa,” Cuocuo whined, his lip jutting out in a pout.

Feng Xin only laughed again. There was a sharp intake of breath as the front door closed, and Feng Xin opened his eyes to see Mu Qing standing in the doorway. There was a blush high on his cheeks, lighting up the tips of his ears as well.

“Mr. Mu!” Cuocuo cried in surprise. He lunged off the couch and raced over, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he grabbed Mu Qing’s sleeve. “You came!”

Mu Qing hesitated, looking from Feng Xin to Cuocuo and back. “Of course I came. You invited me.” He looked back down at Cuocuo and then handed him a small, wrapped package. “Here. Happy birthday.”

Cuocuo beamed. “Thank you!” He delicately put the present on the coffee table with the others, and then grabbed Mu Qing’s hand again. “I’m glad you’re here! C’mon! I wanna show you all the stuff Nana and I made! I’ve been teaching her how to do tricks and Mama has been helping me make her a sweater so she doesn’t get so cold all the time even though she’s an ice type and I got to pick the fabric! It’s really warm and hopefully it’ll fit Nana for a while because I don’t think she’ll evolve anytime soon where we aren’t actually doing anything to grow stronger yet and making sweaters is hard.” Cuocuo tugged Mu Qing down the hallway of the apartment, his voice growing fainter the further away they went.

Mu Qing sent one last look over his shoulder, his eyes finding Feng Xin’s.

Feng Xin only smiled at him and raised his soda as if to say “good luck.”

The minute Mu Qing was out of sight, Feng Xin slouched down on the couch like a puppet with its strings cut. He’d come. He’d come early. Feng Xin had been worried for nothing. It really was like being a teenager all over again, just with less hormones in the way.

Xie Lian patted Feng Xin’s knee with a knowing smile that only grew when Feng Xin groused at him to “shut up.”

He sipped at his soda slowly, avoiding looking at any of the other adults in the room. He was a mature adult and that meant he could act like a child if he wanted to in this case.

Cuocuo only brought Mu Qing back when Jian Lan called from the living room that his friends were here. He came running in with a bright grin, holding the sweater for Nana in both hands. “Papa! Did you know Mr. Mu could sew!?”

Feng Xin looked up from the game of cards he had started with Hua Cheng. Mu Qing was right behind Cuocuo, his face flushed and his smile fond, and Feng Xin pointedly ignored the way his stomach flipped. “I did,” he answered instead. “Mu Qing used to compete in the Contest Halls. His outfits were completely homemade.”

Cuocuo gaped and turned around to stare at Mu Qing. Mu Qing who was getting increasingly more flustered.

His blush went all the way across the bridge of his nose and up to the tips of his ears.

Feng Xin smiled and put his hand of cards down on the table. “He won first place more times than I can count too. I’m sure he has a collection of ribbons hanging somewhere for it.” He met Mu Qing’s eyes, pleased to see what was clearly shock.

Mu Qing probably hadn’t expected Feng Xin to remember. Yet there was very little that Feng Xin didn’t remember about Mu Qing. Maybe he’d start to see that now.

Mu Qing coughed and turned his head away. “Next time you visit, you can see them, Cuocuo.”

Cuocuo grinned even wider and spun to look at Jian Lan. “Mama! Mama! When can I go visit Mr. Mu again?”

Feng Xin didn’t bother to pay attention to the answer, because Mu Qing was looking at him with soft eyes and a softer smile and Feng Xin honestly didn’t know how he kept breathing.

Friends first. They would be friends first.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The following weeks found Feng Xin playing host to Mu Qing more and more often. It seemed that Cuocuo’s birthday party had been the needed catalyst for Mu Qing to realize that Feng Xin had been serious about being friends. That was all Feng Xin could think of for why Mu Qing was over so often. Not that he was against it. Completely the opposite. He enjoyed having Mu Qing in his apartment, playing with Cuocuo or bantering with Feng Xin over his dinner choices.

It was… Domestic. Domestic in a way Feng Xin hadn’t been since he and Jian Lan had split, and certainly not in a way he and Mu Qing had ever managed.

Seeing Mu Qing sitting on his couch with his legs tucked up, a book in one hand as he read to a sleepy Cuocuo… It did very dangerous things to his heart. Something about how easily Mu Qing fit back into his life felt unfair, but Feng Xin had always known that spot had been carved out for Mu Qing. Everything else had been like putting a square peg into a round hole.

He’d made it work, but it wasn’t sustainable.

Even now, watching as Mu Qing helped Cuocuo guide a needle through fabric to embroider a design onto Nana’s sweater…

Feng Xin had to take a deep breath and go back to preparing dinner before he did something neither of them were really ready for. He’d always known Mu Qing was good with kids. It was a fact he had accepted since they were teens. It was different, as it always was, to see Mu Qing interacting with his kid.

He set the rice cooker to go and left the pan on the stove to heat up. He was drawn to look back at Mu Qing and Cuocuo when Cuocuo started laughing. A badly embroidered smiley face took up a corner of Nana’s sweater, but Cuocuo was beaming with pride anyway. He had bandages on his fingers from the many times he’d poked himself.

“Thanks, Mu-gege!” Cuocuo said brightly.

Mu Qing had that soft look in his eyes again. It rarely faded now. He started putting away the sewing kit with a small wave of his hand. “It’s nothing. Everyone should know how to do a few basic stitches.” He lifted his head and Feng Xin’s breath caught when Mu Qing looked right at him. “Unlike your father.”

Feng Xin sputtered, heat washing through him, and he turned back around to put the fish in the frying pan. “I can sew,” he muttered.

“The one time I caught your papa trying to sew, he’d managed to sew his pants to the underside of his project,” Mu Qing said, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“That was once! Jeez. You’ll never let me live it down will you?” Feng Xin turned back, brandishing the spatula at Mu Qing while Cuocuo giggled into the sweater.

Mu Qing’s answer was a smirk that made Feng Xin want to kiss it off of his face. A far better reaction than the one he had when they were kids where he tried to punch it off of him.

“Besides,” Feng Xin said, forcing himself to move past the urge, “I sewed that hat for you just fine the year after. You never wore it out, but I know you wore it.” He grinned when Mu Qing flushed, betrayed by his pale skin, and walked out of the kitchen to stand behind the couch. “Now. Do you still like your fish with cayenne?”

Mu Qing blinked, mouth parting in clear surprise. “Yes,” he said.

Feng Xin nodded. “Cool. No cayenne for Cuocuo, garlic?”

“Yes please papa!” Cuocuo chirped. He called for Nana then, imploring her to lift her little arms so that he could put the sweater on her. It was awfully cute.

Feng Xin couldn’t help his smile and he went back to the frying pan. The last time he’d made fish for Mu Qing like this had been right before he left for Alola. It was a bittersweet memory, but at least things seemed to be getting better now.

Like all of their other dinners over the last few weeks, it was a quiet affair. Comfortable. Cuocuo chattered about school and his projects and how good he and his friends were getting at training with their pokemon. Mu Qing would make comments that almost sounded snide but Feng Xin knew were fond, and Feng Xin was left just to appreciate what he had regained.

Good friends and good company made a happy man indeed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“You should have seen the look on Hua Cheng’s face when Xie Lian revealed that he knew all along it was him.” Feng Xin leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand as Mu Qing hid his laughter in his hand. Feng Xin resolved with himself that he was going to get Mu Qing to lower his guard enough to really laugh with him again. One day it was going to happen.

“His dear precious San Lang being the corporate workhorse Hua Cheng didn’t even phase Xie Lian, even though Hua Cheng was more than ready for Xie Lian to turn him away. They’d literally had their tongues down each other’s throats more times than I could count by that point and still Hua Cheng thought Xie Lian would turn him down.” Feng Xin rolled his eyes, the habit relearned from Mu Qing, and Mu Qing snickered meanly.

“They deserve each other,” Mu Qing commented. He put his sewing down on the coffee table and stretched out his arms. “Xie Lian needed someone who would constantly put him first.”

Feng Xin nodded. That much was true. They both remembered the wreck Xie Lian had been when they were younger. Everyone else had looked at him as a challenge. Just another obstacle to beat on their way to the top. Mu Qing had been guilty of that once too. Hua Cheng was a good fit for their friend, despite how much neither of them liked him..

The door to the apartment swung open, the hinges making just enough sound for Feng Xin to check the clock above the tv. Cuocuo was home, and oddly quiet. He furrowed his brow and leaned back on the couch. “A’Cuo?”

There was a quiet sniffle. “Hi, papa.”

Feng Xin was in the hallway to the front door before he recognized that he’d been moving. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Cuocuo was rubbing his eyes. They were red and wet and his cheeks were puffy like they always got when he’d been crying. Nana was missing from his side, her pokeball instead held almost protectively in one hand. “I-it’s nothing, papa,” he said with another sniffle.

“A’Cuo, come on now, you don’t really expect me to believe that,” Feng Xin said. He crouched down in front of his son, putting a hand on the back of his head. “Can you tell me what happened? Why is Nana in her ball?”

Cuocuo’s lip trembled and he tucked the pokeball close to his chest, shaking his head.

Feng Xin scooped Cuocuo up into his arms, resting him on his hip. “How about we go get some hot chocolate, cheer you up a little, hm? Mu Qing is here, I’m sure if we asked he’d read you another story.”

There was the quiet thudding of cupboards in the background, and the tap turning on. Mu Qing must have had the same idea and was getting hot water ready for them. Feng Xin took a brief moment to be thankful that Mu Qing was here and helping, and then he carried Cuocuo into the kitchen.

Cuocuo was reluctant to let go of Feng Xin at first, but he acquiesced when he was allowed to sit on the counter top. He still cradled Nana’s pokeball, as though afraid he’d break it, and Feng Xin’s worry only grew. But it was fine. He would get the story out of Cuocuo when Cuocuo was ready.

“Thank you,” Feng Xin said to Mu Qing as he turned around from putting the kettle on the stove.

Mu Qing hummed, but his eyes slid directly to Cuocuo. Worry creased his eyes and his brows. “A’Cuo,” Mu Qing started gently. He opened the cabinet that Feng Xin kept the treats in and pulled out a chocolate bar. It was one of Cuocuo’s favorites, the kind that was shaped like Snorlax and sometimes had a little sliding whistle inside the box. Mu Qing put the chocolate on the counter next to Cuocuo. “Did something happen to Nana?” he asked.

Cuocuo’s lip quivered again and he held the pokeball in both hands. “Nana got hurt,” he whispered.

Mu Qing clicked his tongue. “Well that won’t do. How about we heal her up then, hm? Do you not have potions at your school?” He glanced at Feng Xin and Feng Xin turned immediately, slipping out of the kitchen to get his first aid bag for his pokemon.

It took a minute. He had to unbury it from their coats and gloves from the last time they’d all gone on a walk, but finally he had the red bag in hand and made his way back into the kitchen. Mu Qing had Cuocuo in a hug, petting the back of his head gently as Cuocuo cried wetly.

Feng Xin had to stop mid-step and take a moment. Something had happened to make Cuocuo cry, which was rare, and anger was always Feng Xin’s first emotion. He forcibly loosened his hold on the first aid bag and made his steps into the kitchen light. “Here we go, one first aid kit for Nana.” He set it on the counter on the other side of Cuocuo.

Cuocuo hiccuped as he pulled away, scrubbing at his eyes valiantly to try and clear them. “I’m sorry she got hurt. She was just protecting me.” He hiccuped again and his voice wavered. It sounded like he was going to break into full sobs at any moment.

Feng Xin very carefully took Nana’s pokeball from Cuocuo, setting it on the counter. “Easy there, A’Cuo, it’s okay. Nana is there to protect you. She was doing her job. We can fix her right up, no problem.”

Cuocuo quivered before burying his face into Feng Xin’s stomach, holding on to him with both hands now. “T-They said they were gonna hurt her worse!”

Feng Xin took a deep breath, glancing at Mu Qing from the corner of his eye. Mu Qing only shook his head in response. He hadn’t gotten any more information out of Cuocuo either it seemed. “Who said that?” he asked quietly.

“The bullies at school.” Cuocuo was muffled by Feng Xin, but both Feng Xin and Mu Qing could still hear him clear enough.

Feng Xin had to work very very hard to keep his voice calm and even. None of this was Cuocuo’s fault, and he’d be damned if he had Cuocuo think he was angry at him. “While Mu Qing heals up Nana, can you tell me more about those bullies?”

The kettle started to whistle sharply and Mu Qing flicked the heat off. “Let’s get you some hot chocolate first,” he said. “A’Xin, will you take Cuocuo to go sit on the couch? I think it’ll be more comfortable there.”

Feng Xin nodded, lifting up Cuocuo and relocating. It was only a moment later that they were curled up on the couch with a blanket, and Cuocuo had a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

Haltingly, he told Feng Xin of the bullies at school. The ones that teased him for choosing a “baby” pokemon, for having two moms, for anything and everything. Feng Xin kept a hand on Cuocuo’s back, rubbing it gently. Every word out of Cuocuo’s mouth made Feng Xin’s heart break.

No one should have to deal with that, especially not at school where the teachers should have been taking care of the situation.

“Do the teachers know?” he asked.

Cuocuo shook his head. “I thought I could handle it. Usually it doesn’t bother me, I just let it go, but I just got so mad today ‘cause I didn’t do good on my spelling test and Ningning was teasing me already and then the bullies wouldn’t stop so I hit the big one.”

Feng Xin paused. “You… hit the big one? How did you hit him?”

“I punched him in the nose.”

Feng Xin choked on a laugh as Cuocuo continued with; “and then I bit his hand when he wouldn’t let Nana go.”

Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh. Feng Xin cleared his throat. “Okay. So you got angry and punched him, and then he hurt Nana so you bit him?”

Cuocuo nodded, sinking down into the blanket and staring at his drink. “Sorry, papa. I know we aren’t supposed to fight.”

Feng Xin shook his head quickly. “No, no, there’s nothing to be sorry for, A’Cuo. You shouldn’t have punched him, true. At least not first. Never throw the first punch. But biting him to protect your pokemon is… acceptable. You aren't to blame here, okay? And Nana is just fine.”

He pointed to Mu Qing as he walked in with Nana in his arms. The cubchoo cooed and jumped from Mu Qing’s hold, running across the room to launch herself onto Cuocuo.

“See. Completely fine,” Feng Xin said with a smile. “Now, one more question. Do you know the names of these bullies?”

Cuocuo had moved his hot chocolate just in time and curled one arm protectively around Nana. He shook his head again. “No. They’re older, I think a grade or two higher.”

Mu Qing clicked his tongue derisively. “Old enough to know better then,” he commented. He sat down on the couch next to Feng Xin and Cuocuo, settling a hand on Cuocuo’s hair. “Your papa is right. It’s not your fault. And it’s likely your teachers already know they’re being brats, they just don’t know that they’re bullying you too. You should tell your teachers instead of trying to handle it yourself.”

Cuocuo frowned again, but slowly nodded. “Okay, Mu-gege,” he murmured. He sipped his hot chocolate and shifted so that he could be wedged between Mu Qing and Feng Xin. “Can we watch a movie, papa?”

Feng Xin hummed and gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “I think we can do that.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

By the time Cuocuo was in bed, Feng Xin had managed to update Jian Lan and Yushi Huang about Cuocuo’s school situation. The only thing left to do with that was set up a meeting with the principal, because something needed to be done. Feng Xin sank down into the couch, his phone dropped on the cushion next to him, and threw his arm across his eyes.

“ Fuck ,” he muttered.

Mu Qing snorted from the kitchen and Feng Xin moved his arm to see Mu Qing coming back into the living room with two cups of tea. Feng Xin had to scramble upright to take the cup, and Mu Qing sat on the far cushion of the couch, facing Feng Xin. His feet tucked under Feng Xin’s thigh and Feng Xin had to remind himself how to breathe.

“He’ll be alright, don’t worry too much,” Mu Qing said. “He’s stubborn. Like you.”

Feng Xin blinked and smiled slowly. “Is that a compliment , Mu Qing?”

Mu Qing turned his face away, his nose twitching as he blushed. “It’s a compliment to A’Cuo, not you.”

“Mmhmm, sure Qing’er ,” Feng Xin hummed. He sipped at the tea, letting out a pleased sigh. Mu Qing had always made the best cup of tea he could ever get. He glanced at Mu Qing when he noticed that Mu Qing had frozen. Mu Qing had his tea cup pressed against his mouth, eyes wide.

The color was quickly draining from his face.

Feng Xin sat up a little more, setting his tea cup on the side table. “Mu Qing? Hey, you good?”

Mu Qing drew his feet back, tucking them under himself. There was a barely noticeable tremble to his fingers as he finished the sip he had started. “Fine.” His voice was short, sharp. Clearly not fine.

“I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other,” Feng Xin deadpanned with a raised brow. He turned on the couch, putting his hands in his lap. “We’re friends, Mu Qing, talk to me. Please.”

Mu Qing’s expression twisted and his eyes lowered, like he was disappointed.

Feng Xin didn’t know where he’d misstepped, only that he had. “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Qing’er?” he asked again, softer this time. He reached for Mu Qing’s cup, gently removing it from his hands when they didn’t stop shaking.

“Don’t call me that,” Mu Qing said sharply. There was no anger in his face though. It was closer to anguish than anything. Or maybe anguish was too strong of a word, but Feng Xin didn’t know what else to call it. He looked miserable .

Feng Xin set Mu Qing’s cup on the coffee table and then leaned forward, letting his hands rest in the space between them. “Okay. I won’t call you that. Is that what it is?” he asked carefully. He could see Mu Qing’s walls going up, could see Mu Qing struggling to hide himself without physically running away. “Because I haven’t called you that since?”

Mu Qing flinched and shot him a dark look.

That was a yes then.

“Okay. I won’t use pet names. I’m sorry.” Feng Xin leaned back a little, giving Mu Qing his space, and tucked his hands under his legs. He wasn’t sure what else to do with them. He couldn’t just reach across and comfort Mu Qing like he might have years ago, or like he would with Cuocuo.

“Don’t—“ Mu Qing cut himself off, his nose wrinkling. “Stop apologizing. It’s not like you could have known not to after I slipped up earlier.”

Feng Xin blinked. Slipped up? Had he…?

 A’Xin. 

Mu Qing had called him A’Xin earlier when they were comforting Cuocuo.

Feng Xin’s mouth dropped with his sharp inhale and he curled his fingers more firmly into the couch cushions below his legs. “A-ah. Yeah.” That had had nothing to do with Feng Xin’s own slip up. But let Mu Qing believe what he wanted to in this case. The last thing Feng Xin wanted to do was chase Mu Qing off by telling him that he hadn’t even noticed .

Mu Qing was fiddling with his fingers. Feng Xin recognized the anxious gesture for what it was and he ached to reach for Mu Qing and offer comfort. But that wasn’t what they did. Not anymore.

It tasted like ash in his mouth.

Feng Xin took a deep breath and took the plunge anyway. He reached across the gap and took Mu Qing’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Is there something else bothering you?” he asked.

Mu Qing laughed shortly. “When did you get so good at conversations?” he asked flatly. “You did this before too, to convince me to be friends again.”

Feng Xin breathed instead of rising to the obvious bait of Mu Qing’s sarcasm. It was a defense. He knew it was a defense. “Therapy,” he answered, “couple’s counseling. Take your pick.”

Mu Qing looked up sharply and Feng Xin met his gaze. He hadn’t told Mu Qing before that he’d put in the effort to make things work with Jian Lan when everything was falling apart. It simply hadn’t been important when Feng Xin and Jian Lan had moved so far past it themselves. But Feng Xin wouldn’t hide it from him when it was important now .

Feng Xin lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I messed up a lot. Counseling helped figure out the right questions to ask.”

Mu Qing made a strangled noise and pulled his hand away from Feng Xin so he could bury his face in his hands. “You’re impossible !”

Feng Xin leaned back again, letting Mu Qing take the time he needed. It was easy enough to tell that Mu Qing wasn’t actually upset with him, just with the situation. And maybe a little upset at himself.

Mu Qing finally let out a sigh, dropping his hands down. He was put together and composed now, at least for the most part. He leaned forward and grabbed his tea, gulping down a too big mouthful.

It was definitely still hot. Mu Qing was wincing and Feng Xin struggled not to laugh. He failed, but he tried , and that was what was important. Or at least he thought so. Mu Qing didn’t agree since he smacked Feng Xin with a couch pillow.

“I’m deleting your phone number,” Mu Qing said, and the curve of his lips told Feng Xin that he was pleased again.

Feng Xin grinned. “But what if Cuocuo wants to call you? You wouldn’t cut off his contact to his Mu-gege would you?”

“I absolutely would. He can call me from Jian Lan’s phone.” Mu Qing sniffed, tipping his head up haughtily. “I can be friends with Cuocuo without you.”

“You wound me.” Feng Xin picked up his tea again, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. He had to duck quickly to avoid the pillow again. “Hey! Not with tea in my hands!”

He couldn’t even pretend to be mad though when Mu Qing was smiling that private, soft smile and shaking with quiet laughter. Feng Xin hid his mouth behind his tea cup, breathing through the fond rush so that he didn’t lean forward and ruin all of his progress.

Mu Qing stretched back out on the couch, tucking his feet back under Feng Xin’s thigh. He relaxed back into the easy atmosphere from before, and Feng Xin let himself relax into it as well.

The silence that stretched between them now was comfortable. It didn’t need to be filled to keep the peace. It was nice to just… exist in each other’s space, drinking tea and relaxing.

Feng Xin didn’t know how long they sat there before Mu Qing shifted with a sigh. “I should get going. New batch of trainers are coming this week and I have to get everything set up.” He stretched his legs and then stood slowly, taking his cup back to the kitchen.

Feng Xin hummed and followed him to the kitchen with his own cup. He’d rinse them out after Mu Qing left. “Less visits this week then?” he asked.

Mu Qing nodded. “I’ll be busy most days. I’ll see if I can swing by on Saturday though. Give Cuocuo another sewing lesson.” He smiled, though it was small and only on one side. Feng Xin would cherish it anyway. “Try not to get in trouble with Cuocuo’s school, hm?”

Feng Xin grimaced at that, putting his cup in the sink. “I’m not making promises.”

“I didn’t ask you to not get in trouble, I said try not to.”

“Okay. I’ll try not to get into trouble.”

Mu Qing patted his cheek and moved past him. “Good boy.” He lifted his hand as he headed towards the door, stepping back into his shoes.

Feng Xin hesitated only a moment before following after him. He grabbed his own coat. “Here, I’ll walk you down to your car.”

“I’m not a damsel, Feng Xin. I can get to my car,” Mu Qing said, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

Feng Xin didn’t even try to hide the fact he was blushing, caught off guard by everything Mu Qing had just done. “Yeah, I know,” he said, rubbing at the back of his head. “It’s polite though, and I—“ He didn’t want their time together to end quite yet. Not when he knew he wouldn’t see Mu Qing again for a week.

How quickly he had fallen back into Mu Qing’s orbit.

Mu Qing sighed and rolled his head, shrugging into his jacket. “Whatever, your choice.” The tips of his ears were red, and Feng Xin couldn’t help his grin.

He opened the door and held it for Mu Qing. They were quiet as they walked down to the parking lot. A few zubat hovered around the lot, and a mothim hovered near the street light. There was no one else out, the lot and the surrounding streets quiet. Feng Xin checked his watch. It wasn’t even that late, but perhaps it was because it was a weeknight. It wasn’t like he typically went outside after dark anymore.

They came to a stop at Mu Qing’s car, hovering outside the driver’s side door. Mu Qing fiddled with his keys, his brows drawn together.

Feng Xin wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Mu QIng was thinking. He hesitated with one hand pushed into his coat pocket. He could see his breath in front of his face. “Mu Qing,” he started, then stopped. He didn’t know what to say, only that it felt like he had to say something .

Mu Qing met his eyes, arching a brow when Feng Xin was quiet for just a little too long.

“Thank you, for today. And… everyday. Being friends with Cuocuo. It means a lot to him, and me. I know we’ll never be more than friends again but… I’m glad we’re friends. I missed you. A lot.” Feng Xin turned his face away, unable to keep Mu Qing’s gaze as he flushed hot. It was only his complexion and the night sky saving him from being a glaring stop sign.

He rubbed at the back of his head again, rocking back onto his heels. “I’ll uh. Let you get home. Just… yeah.” He went to take a step when he was stopped by Mu Qing grabbing his arm. When he looked back, Mu Qing was staring at the ground with his mouth set in a firm line.

“I thought you said you still loved me,” he said softly.

Feng Xin was going to short circuit. An electrode had to have gone off somewhere nearby. He was hallucinating. Something. And yet… and yet he knew if he didn’t say something right now then he was going to lose whatever chance this was.

“I do?” Not a question, Feng Xin. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I definitely do.” God knew how much Feng Xin still loved Mu Qing. “But you said—“

Mu Qing tugged on his arm, getting Feng Xin to step closer. Feng Xin covered Mu Qing’s hand with his own, changing the hold so that he could hold his hand instead.

“Listen,” Mu Qing said, barely louder than a whisper. His breath was fogging in front of him. “Since when do I follow my own advice?”

Feng Xin huffed a laugh, squeezing Mu Qing’s hand gently.

Mu Qing stepped in closer, tipping his head up just a little. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Feng Xin inhaled sharply. His heart thudded in his chest. It didn’t stop him from using his hand to cup Mu Qing’s neck, pulling him in the rest of the way. Despite everything, kissing Mu Qing came as naturally as breathing. Feng Xin remembered the way their heads tilted, how their mouths fit together. He remembered how Mu Qing leaned into him.

Feng Xin pulled away with a shaky laugh. His eyes were moist. Mu Qing looked like he was just as affected though.

“I do have to go,” Mu Qing said softly. He leaned his head into Feng Xin’s hand, almost unaware of the fact he’d done it at all.

Feng Xin nodded slowly, stroking his thumb over Mu Qing’s cheek. “We’ll see you Saturday?”

“Mm. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Feng Xin couldn’t help but pull him in for one more kiss, holding it until Mu Qing was laughing against his mouth and pushing him away.

“Good night, Feng Xin.”

Feng Xin smiled widely, letting his hand drop from Mu Qing’s cheek. “Good night, Mu Qing.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Saturday didn’t come fast enough. Not when Feng Xin had spent the week dealing with Cuocuo’s school and the bullies, working on getting Cuocuo to and from his trainer lessons, and withstanding the teasing from Jian Lan after Cuocuo had spilled the tea on him and Mu Qing. His terrible gremlin child that he loved with his whole heart, who had apparently seen Feng Xin and Mu Qing kissing from the window.

Feng Xin held the belief that Cuocuo had been sleeping and just got a lucky guess. But he’d still sold himself out with the blushing and stuttering.

But despite how tiring his week had been, Saturday came with sunshine and warmer weather than the previous weekend. It still found Feng Xin, Mu Qing, and Cuocuo all bundled up in coats. They had opted to go to the park, letting Cuocuo run around with Nana and a few of the other local kids.

Feng Xin leaned against Mu Qing’s side, sliding their hands together. He knew Mu Qing was blushing, but it was worth it for the way their fingers tangled together as Mu Qing leaned back into him.

“How did it go with Cuocuo’s school?” Mu Qing asked quietly.

“It was alright. We identified the bullies, and they’re being taken care of. Cuocuo shouldn’t be getting hassled anymore,” Feng Xin answered. “How did the trainer week go for you?”

Mu Qing wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “Awful. They’re all so picky. No one wants a ‘basic’ pokemon starter anymore. Everyone wants to get something special or overpowered, not understanding that the only way you get an ‘overpowered’ pokemon is by training them that way. Yes, some start out more attuned to fighting than others, but that doesn’t mean anything in the long run if you train them right and treat them well.”

Feng Xin snickered and then laughed, tightening his hold on Mu Qing’s hand. “I take it very few of them walked away with one of your pokemon, huh?”

Mu Qing sniffed. “Of course. They wouldn’t have treated them right. There was only one girl that got one because she proved herself. She got herself a nice skitty.” He paused and turned his head slightly to look at Feng Xin. “And maybe an egg in a few years if she comes back around.”

Feng Xin whistled lowly. “Oh, you must have really liked her then.”

“She was adequate.” Mu Qing smiled, that soft smile that Feng Xin knew was only for him. “Don’t worry, A’Cuo will get to pick one out too. When he’s old enough.” Mu Qing squeezed Feng Xin’s hand back and leaned into him a little more firmly. “After seeing him take care of Nana so well, I know he’d do well with one. Which makes sense considering he’s your kid.”

Feng Xin clicked his tongue with a sly smile. “Another compliment, another week. Careful, Mu Qing, or I’ll start thinking you like me.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes again. “Pity for you, I don’t like you.” He tugged Feng Xin a little closer. “I never did stop loving you.”

Feng Xin stumbled that half step closer, flushing bright red. And yet he couldn’t stop his wide grin. “I love you too.”

Fin.