Work Text:
The bass is thumping, it’s hotter than hell in this apartment, and Mu Qing is annoyed.
A drunk girl in a sexy nurse costume spilled beer on his boots earlier, and he can feel his soles sticking to the vinyl with every step he takes. Or maybe the floor in here is just sticky to begin with. He doesn’t like either idea, honestly.
He doesn’t like the shitty cheap beer in this shitty plastic cup, nor does he like the guy in a sexy ninja costume making uncomfortable eye contact with him from across the room. And he really doesn’t like the girl in a sexy cat costume standing very close to his boyfriend, her unfocused eyes gazing up at him as he tells a story to a classmate.
Feng Xin, in his sexy archer costume, is oblivious as usual, gesturing broadly with the hand not holding his own shitty plastic cup of shitty beer and nearly hitting the sexy cat in the face. She does not flinch and Feng Xin does not notice. Mu Qing snorts a laugh that’s half petty bitch and half lovesick fool, feeling no shame for either.
He wonders sometimes how Feng Xin believes he’s bi when he teeters between being blind to the advances of women and being terrified of them in general.
His attention is diverted from his boyfriend when a very drunk girl in a sexy witch costume squeezes between him and a couple making out in the hallway and turns toward the bathroom he just vacated.
“There’s no toilet paper in there,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. It didn’t matter to him when he was in there a moment ago, but it’ll be an unpleasant surprise for her. She just shrugs as she closes the door. Oh, well. He tried.
Turning back toward the living room, Mu Qing accidentally catches sexy ninja’s eye (what the fuck, that dude is still looking at him?) and his annoyance rises once more when the barely-covered ninja gets up from the arm of the thrift store sofa where he was sitting. All Mu Qing can think in the moment is that this creep’s costume is nowhere near historically accurate while he glances at the spot where Feng Xin was just standing. The sexy cat is gone, but so is the sexy archer.
Well, shit.
The front door it is, then. He can escape the oppressive heat and moving bodies in this room, and if Creepy Ninja follows him outside, it’ll be way easier to punch him in the face if he tries anything. He snakes his way through the crowd, almost to the foyer when a strong hand slides around his exposed waist.
Feng Xin should be glad that he murmured “Qing-er” in his ear that same second, or he’d have been on the ground and the historically-inaccurate ninja would’ve learned some real moves. Never mind that Mu Qing would know the feel of Feng Xin’s hands, the scent of his cologne, even the smell of his sweat (gross, but true) in a crowd of thousands. This relationship as it stands is relatively new, but they’ve known each other nearly their entire lives.
Mu Qing spares his buzzed boyfriend a flip over his shoulder and instead turns in the circle of his arms to face him. Feng Xin leans back to give him a very thorough, very pleased once-over, as if he hadn’t been there when Mu Qing got dressed in these skin-tight black jeans and crop top. And all of a sudden, in an apartment full of scantily-clad people of all genders, he somehow makes Mu Qing feel like the only person in the world worth desiring. Mu Qing shudders, and Feng Xin’s hand grips tighter at the small of his back.
Did it just get even hotter in here?
“You know,” Feng Xin says as he leans in and nudges Mu Qing’s cheek with his nose. His voice is like honey, dripping languidly down Mu Qing’s spine. They might actually be the only two people in this room for all he knows. “There are like, ten sexy cats here. But you’re definitely the sexiest.”
“Mmn, really?” he asks, and Feng Xin nods before pressing a kiss below Mu Qing’s ear.
He winds his arm around Feng Xin’s waist, clutching at the material of his tank top, and Feng Xin takes that as an invitation to sweep one hand down the curve of Mu Qing’s ass and the other under his crop top before nipping at his earlobe and down his neck.
They would certainly not be the only couple making out at this off-campus Halloween party, but Mu Qing hasn’t had so much to drink that he doesn’t realize this would be way better and way less public in their shared dorm room. Feng Xin clearly doesn’t care who’s watching him grope his boyfriend’s ass, but he might in the morning.
“Take me home, A-Xin?”
Feng Xin nods again, his breath warm against Mu Qing’s neck. He straightens up, one hand still splayed against Mu Qing’s bare skin beneath his shirt, and reaches for the shitty plastic cup that Mu Qing is still holding. Feng Xin downs the rest, face scrunching up at the taste of the shitty beer, and sets the cup on a rickety table nearby.
The night air is cool outside, fresh and crisp against Mu Qing’s flushed cheeks. The soles of his boots are still sticky on the uneven wood of the building’s front porch, but when Feng Xin takes his hand, sticky shoes don’t matter anymore.
The thumping bass is dampened by the closed door, and sexy cats and sexy ninjas alike are forgotten in the feel of Feng Xin’s warm hand in his, as the sexiest cat and the sexiest archer make their way back home, together.