Work Text:
Yi and Goumang sit hunched over a cluttered workstation in Eigong’s lab, surrounded by stacks of research papers, flickering holograms, and jars of strange, luminescent liquids.
Eigong has left them with an absurdly vague task to complete while she attends an important meeting.
Eigong hasn’t explicitly demanded perfection, and never said how much she wanted them to get done.
Naturally, Yi and Goumang, have spent the entire day in a relentless frenzy, scouring every page, screen, and database they can access.
Yi’s usually pristine fur now sticks out at odd angles, and Goumang’s sleek, raven-black furred coat looks slightly disheveled.
By the time the lab’s overhead lights dim to their automatic nighttime setting, casting the room in a soft amber glow, both Goumang and Yi are thoroughly spent.
Yi stifles a yawn, his ears twitching sluggishly as he continues scrolling through yet another digital manual.
Goumang leans against the edge of the table, her silhouette outlined against the faint blue glow of a holographic display.
And yet, despite their growing fatigue, they refuse to abandon their bizarre research project… an in-depth guide on how to grow and nurture a bonsai tree .
“... Why,” Yi mumbles, dragging out the word as his tired fingers tap lazily at the holographic keyboard in front of him.
“Why… does Teacher want to know how to grow a bonsai tree? And why , of all things, a peach tree?” His beige ears droop as he squints at the glowing screen, now stuck on page fourteen of the never-ending care manual.
Goumang shrugs without looking up, her sharp eyes fixed on a bubbling vial in front of her.
“How am I supposed to know…” she mutters, carefully adjusting the formula of a genetic cocktail that somehow needs to make the tree grow faster, grow slower, and stop growing altogether.
The absurdity of it all doesn’t even seem to faze her, though the faint twitch of her ears betrays her mounting frustration.
Normally, the two students would be bickering nonstop sniping at each other over the smallest mistakes, or competing to see who is the better of the two…
But tonight, exhaustion hangs so heavily over them that neither has the energy to provoke the other. For once, the lab is quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the occasional tired sigh.
Yi stretches his arms over his head, his fur rippling slightly with the motion, and lets out a long, drawn-out yawn.
The screen in front of him blurs as his tired eyes struggle to focus, but he doesn’t seem to care. “... You know,” he mumbles, his voice slow and lazy, “I don’t like you all that much…” His tone is so casual it’s almost disarming.
Goumang rolls her eyes, her sleek black fur catching the soft glow of the lab’s lights. “... Like I didn’t know that,” she retorts, her voice laced with exasperation.
Yi, unfazed, takes a slow sip from his mug, his ears flicking slightly as he sets it back down with a soft clink.
“... But having you around isn’t all that bad. Kind of... pleasing, actually.” He speaks so nonchalantly, without even glancing up from the notes he’s rereading, that the words almost don’t register.
Goumang stiffens, her ears twitching as the weight of Yi’s words sinks in. Her heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar and utterly unwelcome sensation…
“W-what the hell makes you say that?” she blurts out, her voice unusually hurried, betraying the flustered chaos brewing inside her.
She doesn’t dare meet his gaze, instead pretending to adjust the settings on the holographic console in front of her.
Yi rubs his eyes, his fingers brushing against his fur as he blinks sluggishly at the screen. “I mean… sure, I don’t like you all that much,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you. You’re my senior, after all. And… I’ve read your work.” He shrugs slightly, as if the admission isn’t a big deal, but his words hang in the air, heavier than he seems to realize.
Goumang feels her cheeks grow hot, her usually calm composure shattering in an instant.
It’s not just the words that fluster her, it’s the complete whiplash of it all. For months, their dynamic has been defined by sharp remarks, constant bickering, and thinly veiled contempt.
And now, out of nowhere, her arrogant, insufferable junior has just hit her with an earnest, unfiltered compliment. She’s not sure what’s worse: the fact that he said it, or the fact that it’s getting to her.
It’s something she never expected to hear from him. Not in a thousand years. The words swirl in her mind, tangling with memories of their endless arguments and the quiet moments in between.
She opens her mouth, hesitant, the syllables catching in her throat before she finally manages, “... Yi?”
Before she can say more, a soft thud cuts through the quiet hum of the lab. Goumang’s ears perk up, and she swivels her head, only to find Yi slumped forward, his head resting on the desk.
His chest rises and falls steadily, the faint sound of his breathing blending with the low hum of the machines. For a moment, she just stares, the flustered storm inside her giving way to something softer, quieter. She doesn’t say another word.
The sight of Yi fast asleep, his head resting on the desk, stirs something oddly contagious in Goumang.
Her eyelids grow heavier with each tick of the clock, and the soft hum of the lab’s machinery feels almost like a lullaby.
“... Whatever,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper as she tries to shake off the drowsiness. Turning back to her notes, she blinks slowly, struggling to refocus on the screen in front of her.
But before she knows it, her head dips forward, and the world fades into black.
The quiet of the night is broken only by the faint click of Eigong’s shoes against the polished floor as she walks toward her lab. The rest of the building is dark, but a soft glow spills out from beneath her lab door, catching her attention.
“Hm…?” Eigong pauses, tilting her head in curiosity. Then it clicks, and she lets out a small groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh no… don’t tell me…” she mutters to herself, quickening her pace toward the door.
Eigong pushes open the door and steps inside, her sharp eyes scanning the room. The faint blue glow of the holographic screens reflects off the walls, illuminating the workstation piled high with papers, half-empty coffee mugs, and scattered notes.
At the center of the chaos, her two students are slumped over the same table, fast asleep. Yi’s head rests on his folded arms, while Goumang leans slightly to the side, her face half-buried in a stack of notes.
Eigong sighs, placing a hand on her hip. “Oh geez… don’t tell me they researched all night,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of irritation and reluctant fondness as she walks over to them.
“... Ugh.” Eigong runs a hand down her face, letting out a groan as the realization hits her. “I probably should’ve chosen my words more carefully…” she mutters, her voice tinged with regret.
She shakes her head, pressing her palm to her forehead in a dramatic facepalm. “Unhurried instructions, Eigong. Next time, give unhurried instructions. ” The exasperated lecture to herself lingers in the quiet air..
Letting out a long, weary sigh, Eigong steps closer to the table. She leans down, placing a hand on each student’s shoulder, and gives them a gentle shake.
“Yi, Goumang, it’s time to wake up,” she says, her voice firm but not unkind. A low groan escapes Yi first, muffled by his arms, followed closely by a similar sound from Goumang.
Neither of them lifts their heads, their exhaustion radiating in unison. Eigong raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Really? After all this effort, you’re just going to sleep through the morning?” she quips, shaking them a little harder this time.
When neither of them stirs, Eigong lets out a soft sigh, the kind that carries both exhaustion and guilt.
“No… it’s my fault they’re like this,” she mutters, her ears twitching slightly as she straightens her posture, her hands falling to her sides.
For a moment, she lingers, glancing down at the cluttered workstation, papers scattered everywhere, empty coffee mugs leaving faint rings on the desk, and notes half-crumpled beneath their arms.
Her sharp eyes soften as she watches them sleep, their usual bickering replaced by an unusual quiet. “... I’ll just clean up the mess before they wake,” she decides, her voice barely above a whisper as she begins tidying up the chaos they left behind.
…
…
…
Time passes slowly in the dimly lit lab, the faint hum of the machinery filling the quiet air. As Yi drifts from the depths of sleep to a lighter phase, a vague awareness begins to stir within him.
Something soft and warm presses gently against the top of his head, so faint that at first, he wonders if he’s imagining it. His ears flick weakly, but he doesn’t fully wake, his mind still caught in the fog of half-sleep.
At the same time, Goumang stirs, her own sleep slipping into a lighter phase. A faint warmth cradles her cheek, soft and oddly comforting, and for a moment, she leans into it without thinking.
The sensation feels strange, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Her brow furrows slightly as her ears flick back, her subconscious trying to make sense of the softness beneath her.
The two students slowly blink their eyes open, the world around them still hazy and unfocused. Yi shifts first, his ears twitching as he feels the faint pressure against his head.
Goumang stirs moments later, her eyelids heavy as she instinctively turns toward the source of the softness.
The haziness begins to clear, and as their eyes adjust to the dim light, they both tilt their heads, following the faint sensation of warmth and pressure.
The moment their eyes meet, mere inches apart, the haze of sleep evaporates in an instant.
Yi freezes, his fur bristling slightly as his eyes widen in shock. Goumang’s breath catches in her throat, her ears flattening as her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.
For a moment, neither of them moves, paralyzed by the absurd closeness of their faces. Then, as if struck by the same thought, they both jerk backward at the same time, nearly knocking over their chairs in their rush to create distance.
Yi and Goumang quickly glance around the room, doing everything in their power to avoid meeting each other’s eyes. The tension lingers like a heavy fog, and yet, something else catches their attention, the room is almost spotless.
The once-cluttered desks are now neatly organized, the papers stacked, and the faint smell of cleaning solution lingers in the air.
“Ah, you two are finally awake,” a raspy, familiar voice calls out, cutting through the quiet. Both students snap their heads toward the break corner, where their teacher, Eigong, stands with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.
Her tired but mischievous gaze flicks between them, one eyebrow raised as if she’s enjoying an inside joke they haven’t caught onto yet.
Eigong takes a long sip of her coffee, the steam curling lazily around her face as she leans against the counter in the break corner.
Her sharp eyes glint with amusement, and a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “You know,” she says, her tone dripping with mock humor, “you two looked absolutely adorable together when you weren’t bickering like a pair of unruly kittens.”
Yi stiffens immediately, his ears twitching, while Goumang’s fur fluffs up ever so slightly, her expression frozen in a mix of horror and disbelief.
Neither of them responds, their shared awkwardness somehow even louder than before. Eigong simply chuckles into her coffee, clearly enjoying herself.
Yi and Goumang remain frozen, neither daring to say a word. The silence stretches for a few beats, broken only by the faint clink of Eigong’s coffee cup as she lowers it onto the counter
Letting out a satisfied sigh, she glances at them with a more relaxed expression. “Alright, enough awkward staring. Can you two sit on that couch over there?” she says, gesturing with her free hand. “Let’s have some breakfast together. I ordered us something nice.”
Yi hesitates for a moment, glancing briefly at Goumang, who pointedly avoids his gaze. But the lure of food and the unspoken command in Eigong’s tone finally pushes them both into motion.
Yi and Goumang shuffle toward the couch Eigong pointed to, their movements almost mechanical. They sit down stiffly, leaving a very deliberate and “respectable” gap between them. So wide that Eigong has to stifle a chuckle as she watches.
Yi folds his arms and leans slightly to one side, while Goumang crosses her legs and pointedly stares at the far wall, as though pretending he doesn’t exist will make the situation any less awkward.
Eigong settles into the armchair across from them, cradling her coffee cup in her hands. Her sharp gaze softens as she looks at her students, who both sit awkwardly, still avoiding each other’s eyes.
“I’ve had a chance to review the work you two put in for my request,” she begins, her tone carrying a hint of both gratitude and guilt. “And while I’m impressed with your dedication, I have to apologize. I should’ve been clearer, you didn’t need to work until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”
Yi glances sideways, while Goumang shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her ears drooping slightly. The tension between them lessens, just a bit, as Eigong’s words sink in.
“Anyways, food should be here soon,” Eigong says casually, raising her coffee cup for another long, contented sip. Her calm, almost leisurely tone contrasts with the tension still lingering in the air.
She sets the cup down gently and tilts her head, her sharp eyes glinting with just the faintest trace of mischief. “But before that… there’s something else I’d like to apologize for,” she continues, her voice steady but layered with an enigmatic edge.
Yi and Goumang tilt their heads in perfect sync, their confusion mirrored in the identical furrow of their brows and the slight twitch of their ears.
Eigong, savoring the moment, simply raises a finger and points upward without a word.
Their eyes follow her gesture, and then they freeze. Hanging just above their heads, in all its festive, obnoxious glory, is a sprig of mistletoe. A deep, crimson flush spreads across both their faces, their fur bristling slightly in tandem.
“Not a chance!!!” they both yell in unison, their voices overlapping in perfect harmony as they leap apart from each other on the couch. “How did that even get there?!” he demands, his voice cracking slightly.
Goumang’s eyes dart back and forth between the mistletoe and Eigong, her ears pinned flat against her head. “I didn’t even see it when I walked over here!” she snaps, her voice just as shrill as Yi’s.
Eigong snickers, her shoulders shaking slightly as she takes another slow, deliberate sip of her coffee. “I have my secrets,” she says with a sly smile, her voice tinged with playful mockery.
Setting her cup down again, she leans forward slightly, clearly relishing the chaos she’s caused. “But hey now… you know the rules. And so do I.”
Yi and Goumang immediately begin shaking their heads, their motions so vigorous it’s a wonder they don’t make themselves dizzy.
Yi’s hands shoot up as if warding off an invisible threat, while Goumang crosses her arms tightly, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Absolutely not!” Goumang snaps, her tone teetering between outrage and panic.
Goumang bolts to her feet, her movements sharp and deliberate. “You can forget that!” she snaps, her tone dripping with finality.
Just as she’s about to storm off, the lab door swings open with a dramatic flourish, and a booming, joyful voice fills the room.
“I’ve arrived with the food!” declares Kuafu, the Calorie Crusher himself. The chubby, orange-furred Solarian strides into the lab with a grin wide enough to light up the room.
He’s balancing several bags of takeout in his arms. His sudden arrival feels like a burst of sunshine breaking through a storm cloud.
Kuafu’s sudden entrance is so loud and unexpected that both Yi and Goumang jolt violently, their fur puffing up as if struck by an electric current. Eigong, entirely unbothered, continues sipping her coffee with an amused glint in her eye.
Goumang stumbles backward, caught off guard by the combination of Kuafu’s voice and her own clumsy footing.
Her heel catches on something round, a stray coffee mug that had rolled onto the floor earlier and the next thing she knows, she’s tumbling forward.
Time seems to slow as she crashes directly onto the couch, landing squarely on top of Yi. Their faces are so close that for a split second, she sees the startled look in his wide eyes.
And then before either of them can react, their lips meet in a brief but unmistakable kiss.
Kuafu peeks over the back of the couch, his wide orange eyes taking in the sight before him.
His grin falters, his ears flatten slightly, and a faint tinge of embarrassment creeps across his fur.
“Apologies…” he mumbles, his deep, cheerful voice now tinged with awkwardness. Without another word, he pivots on his heel as he retreats toward the door.
His steps are slow and stiff, as though trying to vanish without drawing further attention to himself, but the tension in the air lingers long after he’s gone.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Kuafu hears it: the synchronized screams of Goumang and Yi erupting from inside the room.
The sound is so loud and shrill that his ears twitch instinctively, and he flattens himself against the wall just outside the door.
He listens to the muffled chaos from within, waiting for the shouting to subside… or for a better, less awkward moment to make his grand reentry.
Eigong grins to herself, setting her coffee mug down with a deliberate clink. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her posture radiating an almost exaggerated calmness.
Her eyes glint with amusement as she turns her gaze toward the imaginary camera, breaking the fourth wall with a knowing smirk. “I was the one who rolled that mug,” she admits, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction.
She shrugs lazily, as if to say, What can you do? “Though… they don’t need to know that,” she adds with a wink, her grin widening before she settles back into her overly relaxed pose.