Work Text:
It started as a coincidence.
Feng Xin sitting on the couch of their living room with his legs crossed in it, watching a movie in the quiet whispers of their apartment.
He and Mu Qing had vastly different routines. While Feng Xin woke up early in the morning—often one hour after the dawn—and worked from home, Mu Qing’s schedule started much later. He’d rise closer to midday, in search of recovering some of the energy his job in the hospital during nights usually takes away from him, after long, grueling night shifts.
Consequently, such as Feng Xin got used to preparing a Brunch for Mu Qing instead of one or another, he also got used to waiting for him at nights—sometimes to eat together, sometimes just to wrap his boyfriend in his arms and fall asleep.
The first times this routine started to take place, was because Mu Qing’s hospital shifts grew longer, often beginning earlier and ending much later. And Feng Xin started to miss his presence during the evenings, hence, he began to wait for him, staying awake, in their living room which was right in front of the door entrance making sure Mu Qing would see him no matter what. He killed time by answering work emails, preparing meals for Mu Qing’s next shift, or indulging in cheesy comedy movies Mu Qing usually rolled his eyes at.
It wasn’t a sacrifice for Feng Xin to stay awake a few hours past his usual bedtime. Not when the reward was seeing his lover tired eyes soften with relief, turning from the absolute fatigue to a glance of comfort and happiness; his face lighting up at the sight of Feng Xin. Those moments made it all worth it—helping Mu Qing with a bath, eating together, or, sometimes, simply watching him fall into his arms without a word, too exhausted to say anything.
Nonetheless, there were times when Mu Qing’s shifts stretched into the early hours of the morning. He’d come home at 5 o’clock, looking more dead than alive. As much as he loved seeing Feng Xin waiting for him—and he did love it, though he’d never admit it—he began urging him to go to bed earlier, regardless if he wasn’t at home.
Feng Xin worked hard, even from home, and Mu Qing hated seeing him so tired. The least he could ask was for Feng Xin to prioritize his own rest when hospital hours became unbearable.
At first, Feng Xin reluctantly complied. Mu Qing would return home near five and a half in the morning to find food in the counter for him and a note asking him to wake Feng Xin up, for him to receive him properly. But Mu Qing never woke him—partly because he was too tired, and partly because he hated disturbing the sleep Feng Xin rarely seemed to get enough of as an outcome of always waiting for him during the nights and preparing him so food, either dinner or breakfast.
Be that as it may, things changed when Feng Xin’s workload unexpectedly increased. His company was grappling with a technical issue—something to do with a virus he was sure Mu Qing was trying to understand alongside his biomedical colleagues in his hospital’s labs. In any case, Feng Xin’s mornings started earlier, waking up near Five o’ clock in the morning without even the time to prepare a cup of coffee, as he scrambled to address the flood of emails.
And so, their routines began to overlap; his now new routine started to cross with the end of Mu Qing one.
Whether Feng Xin liked to get up earlier to work or not, it didn’t matter as it served to discover a new side of his partner.
Feng Xin was no stranger to Mu Qing’s love for clinging to his chest while sleeping, cuddling and rubbing his head in it. He found it adorable, even if Mu Qing never admitted how much he needed those quiet moments of closeness.
But what Feng Xin didn’t expect was how clingy Mu Qing could be even knowing Feng Xin was awake.
The first time it happened, Feng Xin was seated on the couch, bleary-eyed from hours of work, when Mu Qing staggered through the door. He looked utterly wrecked, dark circles prominent under his eyes.
“Welcome back,” Feng Xin greeted, his voice soft. He didn't look particularly regal either, but he was definitely better than the man in front of him. “How was work to—”
Before he could finish, Mu Qing collapsed onto the couch—more specifically, onto Feng Xin’s lap. He shifted until he found the perfect position, then murmured, “Terrible. I still haven’t gotten used to the lab where they transferred me.”
His voice was barely above a whisper, tinged with exhaustion, an open window to his state of fatigue “How’s your work? Still drowning in emails?” It was almost impossible to hear what was like a mimic of Mu Qing’s real voice.
“It’s certainly not improving, we don’t see a close resolve to the problem we have —“ Feng Xin started to reply, but his words faltered when he heard the steady rhythm of Mu Qing’s breathing. He looked down to find Mu Qing fast asleep, his face peaceful for the first time that day, his usual tensed shoulders completely relaxed in his lap.
Feng Xin’s gaze softened, a small smile tugging at his lips, looking at the man he has loved for years now sleeping in his legs. It reminded him of a moment from years ago—a drunken Mu Qing collapsing into his lap after a party Feng Xin had dragged him to. They hadn’t been together long back then, and physical affection from Mu Qing had been rare. When he woke the next morning, red-faced and mortified, he swore it would never happen again.
And for years, it didn’t. Until now.
They were pretty young and afraid of losing the other back then. They loved with an intensity none of their younger selves could understand so their interactions, though being in a relationship, were filled with bickering and silly fights. Their relationship now preserved that little hint of bickering, but they were adults now and could understand one another better than before, and so, they loved each other even more and the promise rings they shared were the living proof of it all.
Feng Xin set his work aside, running a hand through Mu Qing’s hair. A sight left his lips, still pressed in a fondly smile full of love. He should have moved them to the bed, but moments like this were too precious; having Mu Qing sleeping his lap was something that happened only 12 years ago, he would pretty much enjoy the moment to run his fingers in his pretty hair and relax a little bit.
He was sure it was a one-time thing.
But as their overlapping routines continued, having the man sleeping in his lap became a regular habit; a nd yes, Feng Xin denominated it has habit, because there were times when Mu Qing returned home so tired he couldn’t even keep his eyes open after finding his boyfriends legs and a comfortable position to sleep in there, almost has he was keeping himself with enough lucidity to just see if Feng Xin was in his usual spot in the couch to just throw himself in him.
When that happened, Feng Xin knew his boyfriend was already asleep from the moment he placed his head. He would usually pamper his hair, gently stroking his hair while marveling at how peaceful he looked. knowing he was long gone with Morfeo and he wouldn’t notice.
Turns out, he did notice .
When Mu Qing was allowed to return home earlier and Feng Xin was still asleep, he would make sure to prepare his lover a cup of coffee right before his wake. Feng Xin's immune system didn’t function quite well without one, and although he knew that from their collages days, he just confirmed it once again the first day he slept in his legs.
It was obvious Feng Xin didn’t have the time to even make himself a single cup of coffee with all the pending work, so his thoughts and his mouth tended to cross, so yes, he has heard how he murmured about that party where he for the first and last time slept in such proximity—and vulnerability—with him. He had to hold the laugh that wanted to escape from his lips; they sleep together almost every night, with Mu Qing practically clinging into him, keeping his head close to his stupid boyfriend’s chest and his waist helded in place due to his, once again, stupid boyfriend hands holding him as if otherwise he would scape, yet somehow, him sleeping in his lap made him that happy?
Not that he minded.
Of course, Mu Qing continued to do it—not just because it made Feng Xin happy, but because it had somehow become a habit he couldn’t quite control. Not that Feng Xin needed to know that.
“You’re home earlier,” Feng Xin said, emerging from their bedroom. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, his hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes.
“This week I will be. They finally realized I need sleep, too,” Mu Qing replied, his gaze lingering briefly on Feng Xin’s bare torso before he turned back to the coffee he was preparing.
Feng Xin mumbled something, but a yawn swallowed the rest of his words. He dropped onto the couch, rubbing his face with his hands, his exhaustion on full display.
Mu Qing approached and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Feng Xin glanced at the cup, then up at Mu Qing.
“You’re the best, you know that?” he said, not waiting for an answer before taking a grateful sip.
“Yes, you usually remind me,” Mu Qing smirked, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Feng Xin’s cheek. “Now, move over a bit. I want to be comfortable too.”
Feng Xin shuffled to make room, and Mu Qing wasted no time settling his head in its usual spot on Feng Xin’s lap. He closed his eyes, the familiar comfort washing over him. It made him happy to do this—to let himself relax completely. And it made him even happier to feel the way Feng Xin’s body softened beneath him, his boyfriend’s tension melting away with his presence. Of course, that was something else Feng Xin didn’t need to know.
“I don’t know what you’re waiting for,” Mu Qing murmured, his voice quiet but sharp enough to startle Feng Xin slightly.
“For what, exactly?” Feng Xin asked, his tone deliberately innocent. Mu Qing could feel those warm, almost golden eyes fixed on him, it may sound like he was faking said innocence but he knew him better, and Feng Xin was not playing fool.
“I want to be coddled.”
“You’re pretty needy, aren’t you?” Feng Xin teased, though his hand had already started running gently through Mu Qing’s hair.
“Yes,” Mu Qing replied simply, closing his eyes again. “Now keep going, or else.”
Feng Xin chuckled softly and leaned down, pressing a light kiss to Mu Qing’s head.
As the week passed, with Mu Qing coming home before Feng Xin even woke and preparing his morning coffee, Feng Xin began to notice a pattern. His boyfriend was demanding when it came to cuddles.
The first time Feng Xin had teased him, calling him “needy,” it had been meant as a joke. But it turned out to be surprisingly accurate.
Not that Feng Xin minded. If anything, he loved how Mu Qing unconsciously leaned closer to his touch, his usually sharp edges softening in these quiet moments. It shouldn’t have been a surprise—since in intimacy Mu Qing was pretty much as needy for touch as he seemed to be when he was tired, like in these moments. Still, having his—hopefully future fiancé—being this clingy never failed to catch him off guard.
Months began to pass since this new routine started, both of them got pretty used to it, even Mu Qing's new work schedule, which was supposed to be on rare occasions or in urgent occasions, became part of their routine, after it became his new schedule at work, a consequence of his good work and a raise at it.
It had become a quiet rhythm in their lives—Mu Qing coming home earlier than before, Feng Xin waking to the familiar smell of coffee, and the two of them falling into these stolen moments of closeness before the day truly began. And with that, Feng Xin learned how Mu Qing’s need for touch would grow in tandem with the routine; it was no longer limited to the mornings. At night, when Feng Xin was relaxing on the sofa, Mu Qing would quietly sit on his lap without saying a word, make himself comfortable and hide his face in the crook of Feng Xin's neck before going to work.
“Comfortable?” Feng Xin asked one evening, his hands instinctively resting on Mu Qing’s waist.
“Not yet.” Mu Qing tilted his head slightly, his hair brushing against Feng Xin’s jaw as he shifted to settle closer, his body relaxing entirely into Feng Xin’s hold.
Feng Xin chuckled softly, one hand moving to thread through Mu Qing’s hair while the other remained steady on his waist. “Better?”
A low hum of approval was his only answer.
It was moments like this that struck Feng Xin the most. Watching Mu Qing—his sharp, often guarded Mu Qing—melt into his touch was something he’d never get used to.
“You’re staring,” Mu Qing muttered, his voice muffled against Feng Xin’s neck.
“Can you blame me?” Feng Xin teased, his fingers continuing to glide through Mu Qing’s hair. “It’s cute seeing how clingy you are these days.”
Mu Qing stiffened slightly, pulling back just enough to glare at him. “Clingy?”
“Yeah. You’ve been glued to me all week.”
“I—!” Mu Qing sat up straighter, his hands braced on Feng Xin’s chest as he glared down at him. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Oh, am I?” Feng Xin smirked, raising his hand as though to stop running it through Mu Qing’s hair.
Mu Qing narrowed his eyes and caught his wrist. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Feng Xin burst into laughter, letting his hand drop back into Mu Qing’s hair and watching as the tension melted out of him instantly. “See? Clingy.”
“You’re lucky im in love with you,” Mu Qing muttered, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.
A reaction of his body that remained since they youth, when they confessed to each other in the most stupid way. It was sweet to see how that sort of things didn't changed during the years, even after 13 years of being together and 3 of sharing promise rings.
Feng Xin’s chest tightened at those words, even if they were said offhandedly. Did Mu Qing have any idea how much he loved him—how he couldn’t imagine starting his days or ending his nights without him anymore?
His fingers stilled in Mu Qing’s hair as his gaze flicked briefly toward the door of their shared bedroom, where a ring box lay hidden.
Feng Xin reached up and cupped Mu Qing’s face, his thumbs brushing gently along his cheekbones.
Mu Qing blinked, startled. “What are you—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off as Feng Xin leaned in, kissing him softly. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just a slow, lingering kiss, filled with all the love he didn’t know how to put into words without all of sudden proposing to his lover.
When they finally broke apart, Feng Xin rested his forehead against Mu Qing’s, his voice low and steady as he said, “I love you too. You don’t have any idea how much.”
Mu Qing stared at him, his ears tinged red, before muttering, “You’re such a sap.”
“And you’re still clingy,” Feng Xin shot back with a grin.
“Shut up,” Mu Qing grumbled, though he didn’t make any move to get up, instead settling back against Feng Xin’s chest, his head once again resting against his neck.
Feng Xin smiled to himself, his hands resuming their slow, comforting strokes through Mu Qing’s hair. One day soon, he would propose to the person he loves the most in this world, after all he started to work harder for the past 2 years to make his, thankfully, soon-to-be fiancé's dream come true.