Work Text:
"No, that's just a small favor, give me a medium favor," Pei Ming insists, showing off his characteristic boyish charm by propping his chin on his hands. Something about the low light in the room and the soft glow from the television in front of them only serves to highlight his handsome features. He's a little too big for the couch, adding to the sense of mischief on display the way he knows he’s taking up too much space, the way he invades Yushi Huang’s just to touch.
"Oh? So grabbing my water bottle for me isn't a difficult enough task?" Yushi Huang asks.
"That's right. I only complete medium tasks."
Yushi Huang laughs. She isn't sure what started this current, now-three-day-long kick of her husband's about ranking the quality of a favor and then refusing to do anything that wasn't difficult or time-consuming enough, but she knows that he's not doing anything malicious, so she plays along.
She mimics his posture, allowing her thick braid to slide off of her shoulder while she looks around the room, feigning offense when really, she is more than amused.
The house—their house—is older in architecture than the rest of the neighborhood. The wood floors in the kitchen creak, the walls still have someone's grandmother's floral-print wallpaper, and, notably, the water pressure from the sink is spotty at best. It hasn't been the easiest living here and having to fix everything themselves. Still, though, it's home, and perhaps after five years, they really can't call it a starter house anymore.
Sweeping her eyes across the room, she stares longingly at her water bottle, which sits proudly atop the kitchen table, half-full with a carabiner attached. She'd get it herself, being as parched as she is, but with her petite frame locked in place under Pei Ming's legs, she currently has no ability to go anywhere. At least she plays that angle, anyway. Since she's much stronger than her tiny body would lead one to think. But underneath him is warm and the cushions are comfortable.
"Hm," she muses, tapping her finger to her chin as if she were an actress in a schoolyard play, "What if you made us some popcorn as well?"
Pei Ming thinks for a moment, allowing Yushi Huang the time to chuckle at his theatrical expression. He's so cute when he thinks he's misbehaving, she thinks. She loves the way he strokes the fuzzy hairs of his neatly trimmed beard and the way his dark brown hair falls over his eyes, casting a shadow of utmost seriousness. So, so serious. And of course, she loves the grin he wears underneath—that sly, cheeky little grin of a playboy from the past who has long since settled down and committed himself to one person. Yushi Huang's heart swells each time she is reminded of the delicate band on her ring finger, or when it reminds her of him.
After a few seconds, likely full of contemplating whether he wants to get up at all, Pei Ming replies, "I accept."
Yushi Huang gives his thigh a gentle tap as if to say go on then.
Pei Ming heaves himself from the couch, careful like always not to crush his wife or accidentally knock something off the side table again. On his feet, he stretches as though he's warming up to run a marathon. What a difficult task.
Yushi Huang rolls her eyes as she pauses the movie, waiting for his wide frame to quit blocking her view. But alas, the performer demands to be seen as he struts across her field of vision into her peripherals. She doesn't mind the look of jeans clinging tightly to his ass, threatening to rip from the seam down, or how his tan skin ripples out over the muscles revealed by his black t-shirt. It's a lot better than the movie.
When he returns, he tosses her what she requested, except when she catches it, she hears the rattle of ice and it's heavier than she expected.
"Figured you wanted a refill," Pei Ming comments casually, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, and the other hand into the popcorn bowl now sandwiched between them.
"Well, no but—"
"Hydration is always important," he finishes for her, practically saying the line in unison. "Hence refill."
Yushi Huang nods, agreeing with what is practically her own catchphrase at this point.
She snuggles up into the crook of his arm after taking a sip of water. With the scent of fresh, warm popcorn between them, she presses play.
---
The next day Yushi Huang is late for work. Perhaps finishing the movie last night was a bad idea, because now, at 4 am, her groggy body has to drag her feet downstairs to the table. She plops down to at least have her breakfast of some oatmeal and fresh berries from the farm. Pei Ming, as is routine, wakes up just to sit with her, and he looks just as tired. Lucky for him, he can go back to bed and sleep in a few more hours before he has to go to work himself.
She shovels food in her mouth, constantly looking up to check the clock on the wall. 4:05…4:15…while brushing her teeth, it reads 4:37, now she's really late. And worse, the thermometer next to it reads a scalding temperature that she doesn't even want to think about.
Typically Yushi Huang bikes to work, arriving precisely at 5:30 with plenty of time to wash up, change clothes, and set up her lessons. The exercise loosens her up well for eight or more hours of wrangling screaming children into completing their worksheets. But looking toward the window at her sad, dry plants begging for water, she can practically feel the lack of moisture just by looking at the dusty, cracked soil in each pot. The outdoor plants probably aren't faring well either, but there definitely isn't enough time to remedy that.
She glances over at Pei Ming, who is still at the table, looking ready to fall back asleep at any moment the way his rat's nest of a bedhead tangles over his face, threatening to pull him down with it if it drooped any further.
"Pei Ming, could you um—" She pauses. Pei Ming does not exactly have the greenest of thumbs. But what choice does she have? A teacher cannot be late to her classroom for reasons as trivial as watering plants. "—do me a tiny favor?"
Pei Ming looks up at her from across the room. "A tiny favor?"
Yushi Huang sighs, fidgeting by pinching her fingers together. "Could you water the plants before you leave? Just the ones by the window."
Pei Ming lights up at the opportunity to say, "Sorry baobei, watering plants is such a piddly task, I'm not sure I can do it." He stares at her with childlike eyes, waiting for her, almost begging her to be more creative and difficult with what she assigns him. And his resistance is calculated, too. She caught him sneaking a peek at the clock before he even opened his mouth. He knows she is late, but not that late. She has time for his antics. And she has time to indulge him.
She walks up behind him, pressing her knees against the chair from behind and her hands onto Pei Ming's broad shoulders. Yushi Huang leans over him. He looks up expectantly, and she discovers the faintest rosy color to his cheeks when he smiles at her.
Then she reaches across his seated figure to grab her work bag from the table, slyly depriving him of the intimate moment he surely was expecting. Her husband's face looks more doggish now than human.
She pats him on the shoulder. "Did I mention that you can only use water from the garden hose? Still think you can do it before work?"
Pei Ming's lips part and he laughs. "An acceptable task, you can count on me!"
Yushi Huang starts towards the door. "Don't tire yourself out too much with that medium task, A'ming," she teases.
He gives a weak soldier’s salute—weak because his posture is slouched over the back of the chair and he probably cares more about the visage of his wife stepping through an open door into the early morning sunrise than he does whatever general commands him. Or maybe this man is the general himself, so no soldier dares question him. Perhaps Yushi Huang is just that lucky.
---
That evening, Yushi Huang curls up on the couch with her reading glasses on and a good book. When she came home, she pleasantly found that none of her precious plants were over-watered, and in fact, Pei Ming did a much better job than his lack of a green thumb would lead her to imagine.
As she pages through the story, her thumb drags across each word and her eyes follow closely behind. In the background, she can hear the running water and smells the familiar scent of Pei Ming's shampoo. She even gets a hint of the conditioner she bought him. She chuckles remembering how excited he was that his hair felt so soft after using it for the first time.
From the bathroom, she hears him call out, "Huang'er? Are you there?" The sound echoes around across the tiles a few times before it reaches the living room.
Yushi Huang looks up from her book. "Yes. What is it?"
Pei Ming's voice is mostly drowned out by the water from the shower, so she can't quite hear what he says next.
She folds the book and leaves it behind on the coffee table. Wood panels creak under her feet as she follows the trace of her husband's voice.
A few gentle knocks are all she needs to announce her presence before opening the door to the bathroom. Steam rushes past, tickling her face with excitement at newfound freedom as it escapes into the living room. The warmth along with the citrus and lavender scent threatens to lull her into a dream-like state, but, beyond the fog, the water beating down across her husband's perfect skin keeps her wide awake.
How many times has she seen his form like this? Hundreds. Hundreds, thousands, probably a number too high to count. Probably as high as one of the numbers made up by her first graders. One-hundred-trillion-zillion-infinity.
She remembers how nervous she was the first time he invited her to shower with him and how absurd and inefficient she found it. Now that they're back to living with efficiency side by side, far far beyond the initial honeymoon phase of their relationship, she understands the reason for his antics back then. It’s just one of the little things they can do together.
He makes eye contact when he shuts the water off.
"Ah, sorry, could you grab my towel from the upstairs bathroom?" he asks, motioning to the empty towel rack outside the shower.
Yushi Huang is about to agree when an intrusive thought bubbles up in her mind.
"Ah, I'm not sure I can do that for you. It seems like such a small favor," she replies with a playful smile.
He immediately returns it, leaning his wet body against the shower door, fogging it up.
"Since when were you only accepting medium favors?"
She taps her finger to her chin. "Since…a few seconds ago."
He chuckles in that low, resonant voice of his as he steps out of the shower, every inch of his body boldly on display and dripping. He wrings his hair out over the sink and gives her a look.
"Would you grab my towel for me if you were only allowed to walk backwards up the stairs?"
"Yes, I would." But she waits there, unmoving. "Only if you say the magic word."
Pei Ming smooths back his wet hair and smiles as he steps off the bath mat and water trickles down his calves onto the floor. Yushi Huang tries to keep her heart steady when he approaches her and leans an arm past her body to grab the molding of the door frame.
He leans in close, but not so close that he touches her, just close enough that she can feel the heat from his body and breath when he bends down to her ear to whisper, "Please, Huang'er?"
The tone of his voice alone damn near sets her into a frenzy, but Yushi Huang only manages a faint blush externally. A little blush and an even smaller nod.
"Y-yes," she agrees, backing away without breaking eye contact until she turns the corner toward the stairs. Backwards.
Pei Ming leans his head outside of the bathroom to watch the spectacle of his wife walking backwards up the stairs with a giddy grin.
"Hey!" She scolds him lightly, "You're getting the hardwood wet!"
He moves an inch back, perhaps an inch and a hair if Yushi Huang is being scientific.
"Pei Ming!"
The full name causes him to raise his arms like a robber out of options, and a gesture of Yushi Huang's head finally forces him back inside where he won't damage the floors. But she really hasn't raised her voice all that much, nor is she really the authorities. In truth, she's grinning ear to ear. His little game has tickled her fancy as well.
Yushi Huang fetches said bath towel—One of the soft ones that they purchased on an outing together after having been gifted a coupon by a friend.
She tosses it directly on his head, which is easy because he has a big one. Big and silly with a goofy little expression sewn across it.
"Thanks, baobei," he says in response.
And the game continues like this for another few days. Only medium tasks are allowed between the two, only mid-levels of mischief. If one catches the other engaging in a small task—like how a few days later, Pei Ming catches Yushi Huang folding laundry—a little poke and a suggestion is all it takes to cause the task to take twice as long and be twice as amusing. In that particular case, her chore was elevated by Pei Ming's proposal that she complete it hanging upside down down from the bed. Which, she does with ease, even with all of the blood rushing to her head.
Sometimes, admittedly, it starts to get on Yushi Huang's nerves a little bit that this game has lasted so long. She guesses after the week goes by that she'll probably play another round before this phase drifts out of Pei Ming's consciousness. Either that or he’ll somehow meander into a new bit entirely.
But there are times when she enjoys the little teasing, those little moments of intimacy. It's a treat to see her husband's childish smile, to wonder what words will come out of his mouth and make her laugh next. It’s entertaining to watch him crawl around on all fours into the basement and mow the lawn with scissors. It's moments like these that remind her that Pei Ming is her devoted person, her special someone. Pei Ming is the man who pledged to stand by her side in sickness and in health, in times of anguish and in times of sadness, and of course, in times of pure laughter.
They're in their bedroom now, a little cramped in their shared queen bed as they are each night. Between humans and their two dogs (one border collie and one Belgian malinois), there rarely feels like there is enough space to go around. Pei Ming wanted a king, but Yushi Huang insisted that a mattress that size wouldn't fit through the door. She was right, but with a man as large as her husband, sometimes she wishes she wasn't. A little extra room might not be so bad. Then maybe she'd be able to stretch out fully without knocking into a wall of fur or an elbow.
"A’ming?" she asks softly. Anyone else would assume he is sleeping, but Yushi Huang knows her husband all too well. Underneath his layers of thick hair, he has his ear buds in; he's watching videos on his phone. Such is their nightly routine, as much as Yushi Huang chastises him for the damage the blue light does to his eyes.
After a moment, Pei Ming rouses, blinking a few times under Yushi Huang's reading light. Both dogs perk their ears, giving her a look as if she said a magic word like 'treat' or 'walk'. She hushes down their excitement.
"A’ming?" She tries again, just to be sure.
"Hm?" He sounds groggy, impressively so, after the one, maybe two hours he'd been horizontal. When he rolls over, she catches a glimpse of the video he'd been watching. It's the Puqi Homestead YouTube channel again. The adventures of a younger couple as they build their farm from scratch. Yushi Huang remembers when they first discovered the channel. It wasn't long after Pei Ming finally caved in and let Yushi Huang have chickens on their property.
While he might stay up another hour or so watching videos on his phone, Yushi Huang wants to cave in to the sleepiness and retire for tonight.
"Could you please turn out the light?" she asks.
"Hm, I'm not sure if that is a difficult enough task for me, Huang'er," he muses, glancing over his shoulder. He's clearly tired as well, just committed to the ruse.
Yushi Huang buries her face in his muscular arm, somewhat defeated. "Please, A’ming, I'm tired."
Fingers belonging to her chosen someone gently stroke her hair, combing through her long, thin strands.
"A’ming, the light," she groans quietly, her voice muffled by his body.
He waits. She pouts.
Yushi Huang rolls over and worms her way onto Pei Ming's thigh. The mesh of his gym shorts cools her neck as her eyes turn skyward. He looks down at her, a sparkle dashing across his eyes like a shooting star. In this moment, he could be her whole night sky.
"A-ming, what if you turned out the light while you kiss me?"
He shifts, the mattress shifting under him as his hands reach toward her to envelop her in his warm embrace.
"I think I can do that," he murmurs.
His left arm only leaves her for a second, then the lights go out.
Darkness floods the room. Pei Ming's hands wander across her body, a lost traveler seeking out her face to bring it closer. She doesn't mind his light and thoughtful touch up her arm, across her collarbone, and up her neck. She crawls towards him too, and after a moment of awkwardness where only their noses seem to find each other, she parts her lips for him.
Butterflies swirl within her, as if each time she is kissed by Pei Ming, it is the first time. He just has that magic. She wonders if she has that same blessing, that same ability to stir his heart.
Yushi Huang wraps her arms around his neck, and they both taste each other breathless. Even when they break away, she doesn't want to let go of the warmth his body brings. She doesn't want to end the moment.
"Do you want to continue?" Pei Ming asks between shallow breaths that she can hear when she leans into his chest. A stray hand of his massages her back and she can tell he's jittery—excited.
"Wouldn't that be more than a medium favor? Would that even be a favor at all?" she teases lightly, and he laughs in response. It's that low, gravelly chuckle that makes her heart go wild.
"I suppose it wouldn't be." He then sighs—not frustrated, not annoyed, he sounds tired and like Yushi Huang has beaten him at his own game. She has. "Would it be too much to stay here like this just a little longer?" he asks.
Yushi Huang nuzzles close next to him, covering them both with the blankets as she is unable to say no to his near-begging voice. The dogs reposition to take up the empty space next to their human companions, and Yushi Huang becomes surrounded on all sides by her family.
"No, I don’t think that’s too much. Staying here with you would be just right," Yushi Huang replies. She leans her tired head against his chest and wraps an arm over him. For as big, egotistical, and full of mayhem as his head is, it fits perfectly into the space beside her neck.
Everything is just so. Quaint. Not perfect but more than good enough. Even if her husband is silly and plays his little games for too long, she loves that about him. She loves the little moments she gets to see, the little memories that she makes when she's with him. As they fall asleep together, she glances up at the ceiling, imagining that she can see the starry night sky instead of the hideous popcorn ceiling. And when she closes her eyes, she hopes the gods can hear her.
Gods? Can you do me a tiny favor? she asks silently, and though the gods are equally quiet in their response, she knows they are listening.
Can my forever be with him?