Work Text:
Sound silence rings in the hall as everyone stares at him.
Faint red is creeping up Mu Qing's face.
And that’s how Feng Xin knows that sleeping during a Heavenly Meeting was a bad idea.
“Feng Xin, wake the fuck up.”
“Huh?” Feng Xin is lying on a bed. How did he come here? The ceiling looks nothing like his own. Did someone kidnap him? Who would dare kidnap the General of the fucking Southeast?
“Don’t tell me orgasm made you even dumber,” the voice comes again. Wait, he knows that voice.
In a single frantic motion Feng Xin throws himself off the bed. Looking up, he sees Mu Qing in a thin robe leaning over the side with his characteristic disdain displayed on his face. But there’s something else. Mu Qing’s cheeks are a little flushed. Which was nothing out of the ordinary, Mu Qing did blush too easy. But it was the faint tear tracks running down his cheeks that made Feng Xin think again.
Why was Mu Qing crying?
He looked down further, as if time had stopped. And then his eyes fell on two small bruises on Mu Qing’s neck that wasn’t covered.
Oh.
Time suddenly starts again.
“Was the sex really so bad that you felt the need to push me out of my own bed?” Mu Qing genuinely sounds a little hurt. And that does things to Feng Xin.
“No- Fuck no, it was good.” And before he could stop himself— “Probably.”
“Excuse me?”
Fuck him. Why did he have to be in this aftermath situation? Why couldn’t he enjoy having sex with Mu Qing instead dealing with everything else? But that implies that he wants to have sex with his rival. No, he definitely doesn’t want that.
Probably.
Mu Qing’s lips do look soft—
“—Xin. Feng Xin.”
“Are you dead?” Mu Qing asks.
Feng Xin’s eyes focus on the face that is merely inches away from his, but still in a dreamy haze of ‘he fucked his rival ohmygosh—' his eyes can only focus on his soft lips.
Which he captures with his own.
Mu Qing lets him for a few surprised seconds (Feng Xin is sure he also kisses him back for a moment) before jerking his face away and subsequently slapping him. Hard.
Hard enough that he finally registers where he’s sitting right now. Not on the floor in Mu Qing’s room with them alone, but in the Martial Avenue where every single god in the heavens just watched Feng Xin kiss Mu Qing.
Fuck him.
Pei Ming clears his throat. “Well,” he begins, and Feng Xin feels a pit of dread open up in his stomach. “I’ll be taking those merits now.”
Amidst the collective groans of other officials, Feng Xin notices Mu Qing running away and in one of his dumbest ideas, immediately follows him. Bypassing the officials angrily hurling curses at Pei Ming, Feng Xin runs after Mu Qing all the way till the Palace of Xuan Zhen.
Damn, the fucker was fast.
“Mu Qing!” He calls out. “Mu Qing, stop!”
Mu Qing either doesn’t hear or he pretends he didn’t, but that does not discourage Feng Xin. He reaches out and grabs Mu Qing’s arm, who jerks back and nearly crashes into him.
“Stop running and hear me out, shithead,” Feng Xin says angrily, now gripping both of Mu Qing’s arms tightly.
Mu Qing seems to take a deep breath and fixes Feng Xin with a glare.
Shit, Feng Xin did not plan this through.
“I had dream,” Feng Xin blurts.
“And!?”
“And, I fucked you!”
“…”
Mu Qing’s ears get impossibly redder. Feng Xin loosens his grip on Mu Qing as a sign that he can move away, but Mu Qing remains in his place. Feng Xin starts panicking even more.
“Not- not explicitly,” he starts in an attempt to clear things up, “I- you told me we did.”
“That does not make it any better!” Mu Qing yells.
This time, Feng Xin is the one who takes a deep breath and tries to arrange his thoughts in quick succession. He had dreamt of Mu Qing. He had sex with Mu Qing. Mu Qing had liked it. He had also apparently wanted to kiss Mu Qing, which he did; he has thousands of gods as witnesses to that. This was a dream.
It finally clicks.
He likes Mu Qing.
“Did I like it?” Mu Qing suddenly asks.
“What? Why’re you asking me?”
“Well, it was your dream!”
Feng Xin coughs. “You- uh- you did.”
Mu Qing is silent for a while after that. Feng Xin starts to think he blew it, when Mu Qing leans forward and presses his lips against his.
Oh.
Sparks explode in his chest as the reality of the situation hits. Mu Qing is kissing him. Him. Mu Qing likes him back. Or this is another twisted ploy of humiliating Feng Xin in the heavenly court. He wants to believe it’s the first option.
Time doesn’t stop here, so when Mu Qing pulls back Feng Xin mourns that in the process of realisation he didn’t kiss him back.
Hurt flashes in Mu Qing’s eyes as he stutters. “I didn’t- I’m sorry—”
Feng Xin grabs Mu Qing’s and surges forward to kiss him back. He lets out a surprised noise but gently melts into it, hands on Feng Xin’s arms in an uncharacteristic shyness.
It was a simple kiss, not even that desperate, but Feng Xin finds himself felling breathless. All these centuries fighting, arguing, hurting each other to the point where neither of them ever considered their feelings when spewing worthless insults, when they could’ve had this instead. The feeling of warmth, of happiness that left feeling like Feng Xin had finally found his forever home.
Feng Xin carefully breaks apart to whisper, “I like you.”
The look on Mu Qing’s face makes it worth it, his mouth slightly parted, a look of disbelief in his eyes.
Feng Xin continues, “I know I’ve been a fucking idiot all this time. Arguing with you felt safer than thinking of wanting more, but that was no excuse to how I treated you.”
“It’s not just your fault,” Mu Qing interrupts. “I’m snarky, I can’t keep conversation without an insult somewhere and selfish,” he says.
“You’re not selfish,” Feng Xin says.
“That’s what you used to say.”
“Well, I’m an idiot.”
“Point is,” Mu Qing cuts in, “we both made mistakes. We’ll still argue every day, I’ll still insult you sometimes, you’ll still get angry at whatever I say. Are you sure that is what you want?”
Feng Xin doesn’t need to think hard on this. “This is why I want this.” Mu Qing looks at him questioningly. “I want us to stay together, even if it’s not as a couple. We’ve spent eight fucking centuries by each other’s side, getting to kiss you would just be a bonus.”
The usual disdain returns to Mu Qing’s face. “Couldn’t you have phrased that better?”
“I’m not the one that dresses like a fucking literature god—”
“Fuck you—”
Their usual bickering starts as they head inside the Palace of Xuan Zhen. Feng Xin thinks that this is nice. Mu Qing holding his hand as he complains about Feng Xin’s bad habits. Walking inside his palace without the threat of it getting destroyed.
Maybe Feng Xin should sleep during meetings more often.