Chapter Text
Mu Qing frowned, “This isn’t how you hold it!”
In one hand, he held a longbow that was positioned horizontally in his grasp, albeit it was currently pointed at the ground. In the other hand, he had an arrow, but he hadn’t attempted to notch it just yet. Instead, Mu Qing was too busy glowering at Feng Xin, feeling indignant. He dawdled the arrow back and forth between two fingers while he waited for Feng Xin to give him some real instructions.
But Feng Xin just nodded and said, “Well, yeah. I’ve been doing archery since I could pull a string back, and you’re just starting out! You’ve got to start with the basics!”
“Do you mean this is the child’s way of notching an arrow?!”
“Do you want to learn or not??”
“What else would I be doing here?!?”
Mu Qing was half-tempted to turn the bow vertical and attempt pulling an arrow back fast like Feng Xin always does--Feng Xin makes it look so seamless and easy--but Mu Qing knew he couldn’t bet on getting it right the first time and he didn’t need to fail spectacularly in front of his mate. He’d never handled a bow before, and this would be his first arrow ever shot!
No dragonkind, not even kobolds or urds, needed such weapons. They were their own weapons, and when they came up short, they’d inscribe runes on themselves to compensate. Urds in particular were used to this treatment since they didn’t have any natural fire breath or any similar innate abilities. Mu Qing was adept with runes and magic enough to even etch his own, so why would he ever even think about learning archery?
Well, now he had a reason to, and it wasn’t for battles and raids, but because it was something Feng Xin enjoyed. Feng Xin was an exceptional archer and was never too far from his longbow. Mu Qing didn’t expect he’d ever master a bow, but he wanted to learn more about Feng Xin’s craft and maybe a little bit about commonfolk living along the way. The two had been dating for just a few weeks, and Mu Qing wanted to know as much as he could about his partner.
However, what Mu Qing told Feng Xin was that he’d like to see if archery would be useful to him, and Feng Xin said that sounded fun.
For all of Mu Qing’s griping, Feng Xin didn’t have to say more for the urd to do as he had been instructed. He motioned his hand forward and brought the arrow down to the bow. With them both pointed down, he handled the arrow’s shaft and pushed it against the string.
At the end of the arrow, there was a divet in the wood, creating the point of notching. Mu Qing quickly found that he couldn’t just stare ahead or close his eyes while setting up and instead, he peered down at the bow and arrow as he aligned them.
Pop! The string passed the notch, sticking in.
Mu Qing’s tail had been twitching irritably behind him, but now that he’d succeeded, it stiffened, and the novice fought the urge to smile about something as silly as notching an arrow for the first time. He tried to pay no mind to the soft smile Feng Xin had on his face.
Doing as he had been taught, Mu Qing then raised the bow, slowly pulling the string back while, at the same time, turning the bow vertical. Meanwhile, Feng Xin stood quietly on the sidelines, arms folded to refrain from any distracting movements.
A moment later, Mu Qing let go of the string--and doink! The arrow plopped to the ground, maybe a foot in front of him. Mu Qing’s tail whipped around again, and Feng Xin couldn’t help but laugh so much that he arched forward with his hands on his knees.
“But why!?” Mu Qing howled. He scowled at the arrow for a few long, seething seconds before snatching it from the dirt.
“You might be holding it too tight!” Feng Xin pointed out with a big grin on his face. He was enjoying this too much, but as embarrassing as that was, Mu Qing did like seeing Feng Xin beam like that.
Nevertheless, Mu Qing groaned.
Not so much because of Feng Xin’s smile but because he wasn’t sure he completely understood the suggestion. Commonfolk had soft and sensitive hands, but urd hands like Mu Qing’s were, well, weapons! They were thickly scaled and ended in long, sharp claws. Mu Qing already had to be careful when he touched the string, making sure it was only with his fingertips so that he didn’t accidentally cut it. Of course, he could tell how tight or loose he was holding such teeny bullshit!
Nevertheless, Mu Qing tried again, notching and drawing the string back while lifting up the bow, just as he had done before, but he didn’t immediately shoot the arrow. Instead, Mu Qing fidgeted his knuckles around. He really didn’t know what to do. After a few more long seconds of trying, Mu Qing turned his head to look at Feng Xin, silently pleading for help.
“Alright, alright, let’s see.” Feng Xin said as he jogged over to his partner’s side. Once he was next to Mu Qing, Feng Xin took the opportunity to check the urd’s stance up-and-down, freely adjusting where his elbow was and using a hand to guide where Mu Qing’s legs and waist ought to be.
“And my hand?” Mu Qing pressed, feeling increasingly flustered. “It’s--How is it looking?”
As he examined, Feng Xin hummed softly, one hand still resting passively on Mu Qing’s waist. A few seconds later, Feng Xin said, “Yeah, you’re really strangling the damn thing.”
Before Mu Qing could say anything else, Feng Xin moved his hand to Mu Qing’s. He paused, debating how to do this, and ended up wedging his finger in the middle of Mu Qing’s. The arrow loosened, but Feng Xin easily fixed it.
“That should do it! If you can’t feel the difference, do you think you can remember that amount of space by eyeballing it?”
Mu Qing breathed out and replied, “I can try.”
The urd studied his hand for a moment, hopefully memorizing it, and when he was content, he finally shot the arrow off. Sure enough, the arrow flew! It whizzed through the air and missed the target entirely, but made it a good distance further before hitting a hillside in the rocky would-be croplands.
Neither man was disappointed by the miss; the target had been set up in case Mu Qing got the hang of it, or if they decided to play some games, but Mu Qing hadn’t really been aiming that time. Instead, Mu Qing smiled pleasantly.
“Not bad!” Feng Xin said as he gazed at the hillside where the arrow at hit. “Good distance! Even after holding it back for a long time, that’s damn good arm strength!”
Normally, Mu Qing felt like he could never be sure if someone was giving genuine praise or secretly making fun of him, but he’d become pretty comfortable with Feng Xin’s words given the man’s general frankness. Mu Qing could feel his heart swell in his chest as he listened to Feng Xin.
Feng Xin then turned to Mu Qing and asked, “Did you want to stop?”
“No,” Mu Qing answered immediately. With a smile, the urd notched another arrow.
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got then!” Feng Xin said, placing a hand on Mu Qing’s shoulder and quickly kissing Mu Qing’s cheek before backing up so that Mu Qing could go for round three.
Mu Qing practiced the bow for a little longer. It was enjoyable enough, but Mu Qing’s favorite part was definitely spending time with Feng Xin and understanding something his partner liked a lot better. And when Mu Qing had his fill of archery, the pair’s fun turned into a shooting competition, with Mu Qing swapping back to his usual fire breath. They were evenly matched in their accuracy like this, though Mu Qing won by a single point.
Feng Xin was eager for another match and gathered his arrows. Meanwhile, Mu Qing turned his attention to the sky, the sun was starting to set behind the orange treetops. Mu Qing didn’t need to go back to the roost tonight, but it was still about time to call it quits.
“I should get dinner started,” Mu Qing said as he walked toward Feng Xin, who was standing next to the haybale target. Wrapping his fingers around the bale’s twine, he hoisted up the target with ease.
“What!” Feng Xin smirked at him. “One more round! The next one’s gonna be mine!”
“Nope. Too bad,” Mu Qing replied immediately. Narrowing his eyes, he loftily teased, “You’ll just have to live with the loss!”
Haybale tucked under his arm, clutched by his hands, Mu Qing turned and headed for the barn. As he walked, a cool breeze passed by, and Mu Qing tipped his head up and sighed into the autumn air. For a moment, his breath was visible in the cold. He thought nothing of it, but Feng Xin had and was quick to catch up with him.
Feng Xin quickly asked, “Are you getting cold?”
Mu Qing only raised a brow at that; Feng Xin was always colder to the touch than him. It made a lot of sense why commonfolk wore so much clothing--aside from the fact that their genitals would be very exposed to sticks and thorns--they got chilly extremely easily. Dragonkind’s blood ran hot and got even hotter just by being riled up a little. Mu Qing felt like he didn’t need to say anything at all.
But Feng Xin didn’t know what to do with the silence besides continue talking. “I was thinking actually... The weather’s only going to get colder with the leaves falling, I was thinking about taking up sewing or something. We can’t exactly buy wing-friendly clothes at any damn tailor..”
Feng Xin dodged his eyes away and rubbed his neck a little, looking embarrassed by the concept.
Mu Qing scoffed, “Feng Xin, I’ve been flown through plenty of winters. I can handle myself.”
“But wouldn’t flying in a flock be warmer than when you’re all by yourself?” Feng Xin asked immediately. It felt like Feng Xin had thought about this quite a bit. “What will you do if you get cold here?”
Mu Qing stopped before the barn, and with a roll of his eyes, he set the haybale down and faced Feng Xin. He outstretched his black wings, shook them a little, and then tucked them in again. However, instead of just leaving his wings tucked against his back, Mu Qing folded them in front of himself, with the dewclaw on each clinging to the other wing’s forearm. It gave the impression that Mu Qing being in a thick gothic cape.
Since he and Feng Xin were the same height, Mu Qing had to tilt his head back a little in order to look down his nose at him. In an even tone, Mu Qing repeated, “I can handle myself.”
Feng Xin stared at him. His eyes went up and down. Then, he held a hand over his mouth and looked very troubled. Mu Qing could see his adam’s apple bobbing.
“What?” Mu Qing asked. “Something wrong with this?”
“Far from it.” Feng Xin mumbled into his hand, “I was going to say it’s very cute of you.”
Mu Qing could feel his cheeks heat up and he snapped, “Lucky you, then! You’ll get a whole winter of this!”
As Mu Qing spoke, he slithered his tail out from his winged cape and pushed the barn door open with it. After, he hooked his tail under the twine of the haybale, lifted it with his tail alone, and brought it indoors. Unfolding his warm cape, he climbed the ladder and flung the haybale into the loft. Feng Xin watched from the doorway.
“Besides!” Mu Qing huffed as he dropped down to the ground floor. “Wouldn’t that take up a lot of your day to make clothes for me? I can tell they take some time to make; you’d exhaust yourself!”
Feng Xin shrugged, “By myself, sure, but I figured it’d be something we’d do together.”
Mu Qing perked up. "Together?"
“Yeah, I’ve never made clothes before either.”
Mu Qing stared at Feng Xin and considered this proposal before giving a soft “hm.” He and Feng Xin learning something together? That’d be a first; Mu Qing wasn’t sure how often he’d get an opportunity like that!
“...I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad,” Mu Qing admitted quietly. “Perhaps we could start with something small to test it out.”
“Makes sense to me. We’ll have to buy a few things to start, so not forfeiting all our coin to something we might not even like would be ideal.”
On their way into the farmhouse, the pair chatted about what they’d need and what they wanted. They weren’t sure what was small in terms of clothing since pants and shirts all sounded very difficult with lots of measuring, so they agreed the first project would be two little stuffed animals, one made by each of them. If they bought cheap, rough materials and didn’t like the final look, well, then the kubwas could have them for toys.
After they left the barn, the two made and ate dinner together. Feng Xin was far from a chef, but cooking was another thing that he’d taught Mu Qing how to do. Dragonkind did cook, it just wasn’t handled the same way as commonfolk; whenever dragonkind made a meal, it was like a stew, with them throwing all the ingredients they fancied into one big pot to share. The pot itself was usually carved right into the roost’s stone floor, so the only utensil needed was something to stir with, which was often just someone’s tail. Meanwhile, commonfolk liked all sorts of bells and whistles, with spoons and forks, grills, ovens, and so on.
Feng Xin taught Mu Qing the ropes, and the two practiced in the kitchen together. There were different parts of cooking that each of them liked and didn’t like, so they were able to trade off easily and make the experience more fun overall. That night, they had meatloaf.
Since the night was clear, they dined on the back steps of the farmhouse, facing out toward the dark treeline beyond the barren croplands and watching the bats flit across the deep blue sky. Overhead, silver clouds slowly drifted across the expanse of blue and speckling of stars, their soft forms glowing in the moonlight. The night was beautiful and peaceful.
While they ate, they talked about nice, mundane things like what color Feng Xin would paint the barn if he got enough money for it.
“Orange, with a navy trim.”
Mu Qing groaned, “That sounds dreadful!”
“I like those colors! What would you paint it?”
“Red and white.”
“Red and white!? Everyone and their mother does that! You’d fucking have us save up for some basic-looking paint job like fucking red and white?”
“It’s not basic, it’s quaint! Quaint!”
Mu Qing liked these stupid conversations, and he felt like Feng Xin probably did too. The alternative would be topics such as Mu Qing’s king, the malicious hydra, or Feng Xin making enough money to keep the farm. Still, serious discussion couldn’t be avoided forever, maybe they should talk about the killer hydra more, and perhaps discussing barn paint jobs was a little stupid, but finding out what colors Feng Xin liked was also important to Mu Qing.
When they went to bed, they shared Feng Xin’s room. Frankly, it was the only option unless one of them wanted to sleep on the living room floor or in the barn. Feng Xin’s house was not extravagant; there was one bedroom, a storage room, a bathroom, and then a big main room that was equal parts dining room, lounge, and kitchen. The latter was only separated from the rest of this room by a pathetic waist-high half-wall, so, since most living happened in this big area, it made sense to collectively call it the Living Room.
On his second night ever with Feng Xin, Mu Qing had the option to sleep in his bed alone and try out a commonfolk mattress for himself. Feng Xin was happy to offer it and sleep on the floor. Mu Qing took him up on this, but only for about an hour to try out how it felt before he had enough and demanded Feng Xin get off the fucking floor already.
When they got to their third night together, Mu Qing walked in to find that Feng Xin had rearranged his bedroom on the other’s behalf. He pushed his bed into the middle of the room so that someone could stretch their wings comfortably through the night.
Every now and again, they’d move a piece of furniture or trade out some decorations to make the bedroom more suited to both their comforts and aesthetics. Not that they could get anything fancy for decor, but sometimes Mu Qing brought home an interesting plant or rock he found, and the pair got to keep a lot of antlers from their hunts. Feng Xin did buy one vase, it was a tall clay vase with a graceful swirling pattern to it that he correctly assumed Mu Qing would fancy. Mu Qing put that one next to the living room bookshelf since he felt the dark wood would make the vase pop.
The room had come together well, but the bed was something both of them wanted to change down the line. They were both happy to cuddle, but Feng Xin’s bed was small, and if they intended on sleeping together then only one position worked.
Mu Qing would crawl on top of Feng Xin, his wings sprawled out on either side of him, and his hocks hung off the end of the bed. Thanks to his horns, Mu Qing usually rested with his arms pillowing his head so that he didn’t prod Feng Xin too much during the night.
Yet, even if the circumstances weren’t great, Feng Xin liked it a lot. Mu Qing learned Feng Xin would put up with a lot of aches and pains for the sake of something he deemed romantic, and this was apparently one of those situations.
Still, Mu Qing always made sure to compensate him by planting a few kisses on his chest before resting his head. Mu Qing would have liked a bigger bed, but once he was in position, he fell asleep very easily. The rise and fall of Feng Xin’s breathing was a comfort that he never knew he craved so much.