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“I’m not dying, gege,” Hua Cheng said, his voice low and raspy. He looked amused by Xie Lian’s antics.
“I know,” Xie Lian replied, rolling his eyes teasingly. “You’re already dead. Now, drink the water.”
He helped his husband into a sitting position on their bed, one arm firmly around his back, holding the glass out. As Hua Cheng drank, Xie Lian busied himself with elevating the ghost’s pillow (did ghosts need improved blood flow?) and smoothing out the blankets.
“Gege…” Hua Cheng sighed. He leaned back on the pillows and gave Xie Lian a look.
“Don’t ‘gege’ me! And don’t look at me like that! You’re sick, and I’m going to take care of you.”
But Hua Cheng didn’t get sick often and Xie Lian rarely did either. It’d been hundreds of years since he had to take care of someone who was sick. What had his mother done for him when he’d been sick as a child?
He vaguely remembered the soothing sound of her humming, a comb running through his hair as he dozed in and out of sleep. He could also recall her washing his hair and tucking him into bed as he drifted off, clean and warm.
“Are you okay to get up?” Xie Lian prompted.
“I’m not that sick,” Hua Cheng told him. He sat up and immediately grew pale.
“San Lang!”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Give me a moment,” he said, wincing and pressing his fingertips to his forehead. He looked up and flashed Xie Lian a guilty smile.
“Gege, could you help me up?”
Xie Lian looped his arm around Hua Cheng’s back again and supported him, guiding his movements to slide carefully off the bed and onto the floor.
“Okay. You’re going to take a bath.”
“Really?” Hua Cheng questioned, smiling. “What will that do for me?”
Xie Lian couldn’t think of a response, so he just focused on helping Hua Cheng walk. “Pay attention, love.”
They managed to stumble their way over to where the huge wooden tub sat. It was a simple matter, after a quick, embarrassing kiss with Hua Cheng, to fill the tub to the brim with hot water.
“This means it’s ghost sickness, right?” Xie Lian remembered to ask when the thought occurred to him.
“Of course. I wouldn’t get sick otherwise,” Hua Cheng told him.
“That does make sense,” Xie Lian hummed, moving to help Hua Cheng undress.
Hua Cheng spent the entire time being slightly difficult and shooting Xie Lian mischievous grins. He valiantly ignored them all, neatly folding each layer of Hua Cheng’s clothing and laying them on a low wooden stool before helping him into the tub.
The ghost king is usually cool to the touch, but Xie Lian could feel him burning up when he laid the back of his hand lightly against his bare chest. “Should I lower the temperature?”
“It’s alright, gege. This feels nice.”
Xie Lian let Hua Cheng close his eyes and lean his head back. He fetched a washcloth and a bar of soap and set to helping him bathe.
He enjoyed washing Hua Cheng’s hair. It was long and dark and smooth and Xie Lian reveled in running his fingers through the thick strands and massaging soap into his scalp. He especially loved the soft sigh of contentment that Hua Cheng released when he felt relaxed.
Half an hour later, Hua Cheng was dressed and clean and warm and incredibly sleepy. He leaned against Xie Lian, half-closing his eyes. “Gege, carry me back.”
Xie Lian laughed, supporting Hua Cheng with one arm. “Come here, sit down. I’m going to cook for you.”
Some of the light returned to Hua Cheng and they shuffled together and lowered themselves down carefully until Hua Cheng was comfortably seated. Xie Lian popped back up and headed cheerfully into the kitchen.
It didn’t take long for him to whip up a monstrosity and he returned with equal amounts of cheer to set the dish down in front of Hua Cheng. “San Lang, are you hungry?”
“For gege’s cooking? Always.”
Despite his encouraging words and the vigor with which he ate, Xie Lian felt a little guilty. It was embarrassing, truly, his lack of ability to take care of other people. He sat across from the table, keeping an eye on Hua Cheng, trying not to drown in his feelings.
When Hua Cheng finished, Xie Lian cleared the plate and went to help him back up.
“Let’s go sit for a bit, okay? Until you digest, then we can lay down.”
Hua Cheng agreed readily and leaned on Xie Lian as they made their way outside. Carefully, they sit side by side on a bench Hua Cheng had built for them the week before. It was just the slightest bit too small, forcing them to sit pressed close together. Xie Lian was convinced that Hua Cheng had done that on purpose.
He broke the silence after a moment to apologize. “I’m sorry, San Lang.”
Hua Cheng had been drifting off, but he opened his eye when he heard his husband speak. “What for, gege?”
“I…” he sighed. “I don’t know how to take care of people. I’m a bad caretaker, and you’re sick, and I’m not doing a great job at making you feel any better. I wish I was more like Mu Qing; he always knows what to do. Or Feng Xin! He took care of me once when I was younger and I got really sick and my parents were away,” he told Hua Cheng, trailing off when he realized he was babbling.
Hua Cheng’s only response is a small, gentle smile. He rested his head on Xie Lian’s shoulder, cuddling closer. “There’s no need to apologize. The only thing I need to get better is to have gege by my side. You’re not leaving, are you?”
Xie Lian leaned his head against Hua Cheng’s. “Never.”
“Then I suppose I’ll be better in no time. There’s no need to worry about me.”
He smiled slightly. “Whatever you say, San Lang.”
They watched the sun set, side by side, feeling peaceful.
When Hua Cheng dozed off, Xie Lian picked him up easily in a bridal carry, bringing him into their room. Tenderly, he lay him down on their bed before tucking him under the covers.
He hesitated for a moment, then bent down to kiss his forehead and smooth his hair down. “Goodnight, my love. Feel better soon.”
Much to Xie Lian’s mortification, Hua Cheng’s lips tugged upwards in an unexpected smile.