Work Text:
“Babe, just wait!” Feng Xin yelled through the phone’s speaker. “I’ll go and get the shit you’re craving on my way home.”
Mu Qing’s right eye twitched. “That’d be fine, except I’m hungry now, Feng Xin — and I’m not an invalid!”
“I know,” Feng Xin answered, followed by several clanging sounds. “You’re pregnant.”
“And that means I can’t drive to the grocery store, why?”
Mu Qing stared at the empty (not really) shelves. There were no apples. There was no applesauce. The last jar of pickles sat empty on the counter — Mu Qing guzzled down the juice earlier in a desperate bid to satiate his longing for brine-y goodness. He didn’t even have any of Xie Lian’s homemade pickled vegetables left. There was nothing that he wanted in this fridge.
Not. A. Single. Thing.
“I know you can go, but you said that the steering wheel is getting close to your belly.” Feng Xin sounded closer to the phone now, but the increase in volume did little to help his clarity when paired with the constant background noise of the auto shop. That was one of the downsides to talking during the work day. “The baby doctor said that you would eventually hit a point where you shouldn’t—”
“Well, now isn’t that time!” Mu Qing snapped. “We’re out of everything.”
“No, we’re not,” Feng Xin said in confusion. “We just went—”
“Are you really arguing with me right now, Feng Xin?” Mu Qing challenged. “I’m standing in front of the fridge, and we’re out of plenty of things. I wasn’t calling you to get your permission, or ask you to get it. I just want to know if you need anything! I’m being considerate — something that you might have thought about before you polished off the last of the pickled veg, you jerk!”
“You packed that in my lunch, kitten,” Feng Xin replied in a voice that sounded entirely too amused.
“Shut up!”
Feng Xin laughed, and heat spread across Mu Qing’s face.
“Stop laughing at me,” Mu Qing ordered.
“Okay, okay.” Feng Xin cleared his throat. “But seriously, if you want, I can head to the store—”
“I’m going to the store, Feng Xin!”
Mu Qing punctuated the declaration by firmly shutting the fridge. The Australian shepherd waiting behind him dutifully let out a low whine. Mu Qing hesitated all of a second before he yanked the door open and grabbed a piece of cheese — just because Feng Xin didn’t like to spoil the dog didn’t mean that Mu Qing didn’t. On occasion.
“Do you want anything or not?”
“Just stuff for pickled veg — and some tortillas. I’ll make Korean tacos one night,” Feng Xin answered.
“FENG XIN!” a voice shouted from the background of the call. “Get off the damn phone! I need you to take care of this alignment. Pei Ming disappeared chasing skirt again, and I need someone to work around here!”
Ah. Nie Mingjue. Mu Qing recognized that gravelly, angry baritone anywhere.
Mu Qing dangled the orange cheese slice out for Arrow. The dog’s pink tongue slipped out to find the treat, and then in three chomps, the entire thing was gone. Mu Qing fought back a grin before refocusing his attention back on the dog’s owner.
“Go,” Mu Qing said. “I don’t want to cost you your job. I’ll get the stuff, and text you when I get home if it’ll make you feel better, you worrywart.”
He could practically hear Feng Xin’s smile on the other end. “Yeah, Qing’er, it will. I love you — rub the belly for me a few extra times, too.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes and waited for Feng Xin to hang up first. Once the line went dead, he let out a sigh and pocketed the phone. Mu Qing instantly felt stupid. How had going through the fridge and arguing with Feng Xin tuckered him out?
Mu Qing didn’t get how one moment he could have so much energy and the next none. And that didn’t even include the number of times he’d been fine one minute and sleeping the next. Carrying twins was, apparently, exhausting work.
He should have milked Feng Xin’s willingness to do more — let his husband put in the effort and go to the grocery store for him. But Mu Qing had already made a fuss about it, so he had to go. Plus, he still really wanted the damn pickles. With applesauce. And they weren’t the only craving necessities that needed restocked. Especially given the idea of eating literally anything else almost brought tears to his eyes these days.
So, he just had to suck it up and get going. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d get back home.
It took twenty minutes to find and put on shoes. His furry companion followed him around, acting as emotional support the entire way — up until Mu Qing snatched up his keys and wallet. Arrow let out several sad whines, and Mu Qing promised him that he would be back before making the waddling journey out to his car.
And maybe, during all of that, he did rub his belly a few extra times. But it was because he wanted to, not because Feng Xin told him to.
The distinction was important.
As he approached the car, a stray cat darted out from beneath; Mu Qing stopped in his tracks with a frown overtaking his lips. Waiting a beat to ensure that there wasn’t another feline lurking under the carriage wasn’t great for his patience, but the last thing the pregnant man needed was to wind up hurting some poor innocent animal. In fact, with the general influx of hormones and emotions he’d been dealing with, Mu Qing didn’t know if he could handle that.
The car beeped as he pressed the unlock feature on the fob, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He waited another lingering moment… just in case.
This wasn’t the first time Mu Qing had seen the scraggly-looking stray around the neighborhood. Every time, the sight of the cat made him sad. The poor thing looked skinny, malnourished, thirsty, but there was nothing he could do.
Well, nothing more than what he was already doing.
On occasion — despite Feng Xin’s displeasure — Mu Qing would put cans of tuna out for the starving creature. Every so often, the cat would dare to venture close to Mu Qing, and he would feel a blip of excitement. Those feelings were always dashed when she ran away.
It sucked. Every time. Especially since it ruined his wishful thinking.
Feng Xin was a dog person, which was why Arrow was their first (fur) baby. And now they were having not one, but two human babies. Their life was already plenty full. There was no reason to want or need to take on anymore. There was sound logic behind that decision. But that didn’t stop the desire from bubbling up every so often. No matter how illogical.
Starting the car, Mu Qing was careful as he pulled on his seatbelt. Then he adjusted the rearview mirror and turned down the volume on the stereo before putting the car into reverse. Cautiously, he backed out of the drive. Feng Xin and the doctor weren’t wrong; he didn’t know how much longer he had before his swollen stomach wouldn’t fit behind the wheel.
He dreaded the eventuality, but Mu Qing knew that his husband would beam when they finally reached that point. The big oaf relished not only watching him expand but finding new ways in which he could do things for him. It was both infuriating and adorable.
Jerk.
Mraw!
Mu Qing frowned as a sound distracted him from his thoughts. Reaching up, he muted the volume of the radio entirely in an attempt to figure out what the noise could be. After a lingering moment of nothing, Mu Qing peered in all of his mirrors, seeing nothing in the road. Or on the side of the road. At least it appeared as though he hadn’t struck some small animal.
But still, the entire thing put Mu Qing on edge. His stomach pulled tight as the twins somersaulted and flip-flopped, playing with the butterflies flitting about. It was fine, though. Maybe it had just been something on the radio.
Mu Qing didn’t bother to turn the volume back on, deciding he preferred the silence of the drive.
He turned out of their neighborhood and navigated his way toward the busier streets that would carry him to the grocery store. And pickles. And apples. And all of the things making him salivate and accelerate — no matter how many times Feng Xin looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
He just hoped he would get lucky and be able to get in and out quickly. Mu Qing had absolutely no desire to run into anybody, to have people ask him how far along he was, and he definitely had no desire to have anybody reach out like they were entitled to touch his stomach. It had been novel at first (though he had refused and rebuked everyone even then), but now it was an outright annoyance. Maybe the gods would smile down on—
Mrrrrrreeeeeoooowwwww!
What the fuck?
Reaching out, Mu Qing turned the air conditioning off entirely, engulfing the cab of the car in absolute silence, save for the rhythmic sound of the tires gliding across asphalt. He waited, his brows knitted tightly in concern. It was the second time he’d heard it, so surely if he waited that meant he would hear it again, right?
He waited.
And waited.
And—
There it was again. A distinct and distressed high-pitched yowl. Mu Qing’s heart squeezed, breath catching as his eyes darted across his surroundings. He had no idea where the sound was coming from, what was going on, but he knew something was wrong. There was a cat somewhere.
It had to be.
Abruptly, the stories Feng Xin shared of cats crawling into engine blocks in the winter or summer — to help with the extreme temperatures — came to mind. Mu Qing’s brain began to connect the rest, filling in the blanks. Cats winding up dead if nobody removed them in time. Or getting hurt when they inevitably tumbled out from vehicles driving at high speeds.
His eyes stung.
Flipping his turn signal on, Mu Qing slowed down to grandmother speeds until he could switch lanes. He turned into the first parking lot he came across and didn’t bother pulling into an actual parking space, just finding a spot next to the grassy median before coming to a stop. Digging out his phone, he dialed Feng Xin’s number as the mewls and yowls grew more insistent.
Each echo of the distressed animal stressed Mu Qing out a little more.
“Come on, Feng Xin, answer the damn phone!” Mu Qing whimpered.
The line rang and rang. But he never answered.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
Hanging up, Mu Qing went through his contact list from the top down. Then he saw it. The number for Beast Within. The auto shop. Even if Feng Xin couldn’t hear his damn cell phone… surely someone would answer the phone for the shop, right?
His thumb tapped the number, and the call fired up immediately. Pressing the phone to his ear, Mu Qing listened to it ring. Praying, he hoped that one of those grease monkeys picked up the damn phone. Or maybe that Nie Huaisang had come by the shop to help his da-ge, because tonight was a blue moon.
“Beast Within, this is Pei Ming, how can I help you?” a voice answered, after what felt like forever.
Relief flooded Mu Qing.
“It’s Mu Qing,” he said. “I need to talk to Feng Xin.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, just get my husband!”
It was only after Pei Ming murmured out ‘just a second, lovely’ that Mu Qing realized how utterly dramatic he must sound. Crap. Sighing, Mu Qing reached up and rubbed his forehead, only to melt, his face pinching in concern as he heard the cry of a small creature anew, sounding more insistent. It was a reminder of why he felt so out of sorts.
How hot did engines get? How many parts and components could burn through fur? Did the cat have enough oxygen in there? Was it a kitten? Was it a full-grown cat?
It didn’t sound large enough to be full-grown. Mu Qing’s mind couldn’t help but conjure up the image of a tiny soft little furball. Trapped. Surrounded by hot painful things that were scary. Oh God…
“Babe?” Feng Xin’s voice sounded over the phone line. “Babe? What’s wrong? What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
Well. Shit. Mu Qing scared him.
And yet he didn’t completely regret it. Stinging tears that he didn’t want burned his eyeballs. He was not going to cry. He had more control than that. He did.
“I think there’s a kitten stuck somewhere in the car!” Mu Qing blubbered out, internally cursing himself for the watery tone and the way his voice broke.
“What?” Feng Xin asked, dimly.
“A kitten!” Mu Qing snapped. “I-I think there’s a kitten trapped somewhere in the car. I can hear it crying. I think it’s hurt and trapped and, Feng Xin, what do I do? Should I get down on the ground to see if I can—?”
“Do not get on the fucking ground, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin shot down instantly. “You’re pregnant.”
“So?” Mu Qing felt his ire rising. “I can get up and down off the floor!”
“Baobei, that’s usually with some goddamn help!” Feng Xin blurted out. “And I don’t want you rolling around on the ground. You won’t be able to do anything, anyway, because you can’t get under the damn car. Don’t even fucking try!”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Mu Qing demanded. “I don’t want the kitten to die!”
Feng Xin sighed.
“Don’t sigh at me!”
“Okay, okay, okay,” his husband responded on the other end of the phone. “Have you left the house yet?”
Mu Qing couldn’t help but feel a bit like an ogre for snapping. But it was important. He didn’t want to kill the tiny creature. “Yeah, I made it to the car wash a few blocks away.”
“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do: take the back roads and drive slow, but make your way to the shop. Just go ahead and pull up in front of the bay, and I’ll bring it in. I’ll see if I can figure out where the damn cat is, okay?”
Mu Qing’s bottom lip trembled. “A’Xin, it won’t kill the kitten, will it?”
“No, baby, it won’t kill the kitten,” Feng Xin reassured softly. “Just take your time, and don’t make any abrupt turns. If it sounds like a kitten, it probably crawled in some nook or cranny and got its little ass stuck. We’ll help the tiny furball out. It’ll be okay.”
“Okay.” Mu Qing took a shaky breath. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you, babe.”
“Me too,” Mu Qing replied before ending the call.
He could do this. He could make it to Beast Within. He just had to drive carefully. And he would keep an eye on all of his mirrors in case the kitten fell out. If it did, he would save it. The kitten was stuck, and though it wasn’t his fault, he felt responsible anyway. He would be sure that the kitten came out of this ordeal safe and sound.
The crawl to the garage was slow.
Mu Qing got honked at (even on the less busy streets) no less than three times. If his nerves weren’t already fraying from the idea of the feline slowly roasting in a pocket under the hood, he might have flipped those assholes off. But he didn’t need some sort of road rage incident on top of a dying kitten in his engine block! So, he resisted.
He let multiple people pass.
He kept his ears peeled for any tiny meows and yowls. In the back of his mind, he wondered if they were quieter because the poor little thing was too hot or was losing strength before banishing the thought. Feng Xin was right, even if he could have been a little less of an ass about the entire thing. Mu Qing couldn’t get under the car.
But, damn, did he wish he could because the stress of driving to his husband’s workplace was nerve-wracking.
Eventually, he pulled up to the garage bay and put the car in park, letting out a relieved breath. Then, he sat there. It wasn’t to calm himself — or maybe it was. Mostly, he was listening for the sound of the kitten. Waiting.
Waiting.
Mreeeooo— KNOCK KNOCK!
Mu Qing flinched, and his head swiveled, looking up at the large man in coveralls standing outside his driver’s side window. Nie Mingjue. Huge and in the flesh. With his heart hammering, Mu Qing opened the door, and that big broad body leaned in.
“You good?” he growled out. “You’re not in labor or anything, right?”
“Uh… no,” Mu Qing blinked.
“Hey, Boss, I got this!” Feng Xin said, jogging out of the shop from the lobby and making his way around the car quickly.
“What’s wrong with your car?” Nie Mingjue demanded. “You take care of your personal vehicles, don’t you?”
Feng Xin half-grinned in amusement, the freckles standing out on his face even with the grease smear across his cheek and matching dab staining his coveralls. Mu Qing couldn’t believe he found anything sexy about his husband like this. Especially with what was going on. He ignored the heat flooding his face.
“Of course I do! You think I’d let my baby drive around in something that isn’t running top-notch?” Feng Xin responded.
He offered Mu Qing a mostly clean hand, which was probably thanks to the rag hanging from his pocket. Or maybe he’d ducked into the bathroom to wash his hands — didn’t matter as long as they were clean. So, Mu Qing took the hand and allowed Feng Xin to help him rise from the driver’s seat.
If Nie Mingjue’s face was any indication, he didn’t have the confidence in him that Feng Xin thought he should. It almost brought a snicker out of Mu Qing’s mouth until a little mewl sounded from the depths of his car.
“What the hell was that?”
“A kitten,” Mu Qing murmured sadly.
“Qing’er’s got a furball tucked somewhere in the damn thing,” Feng Xin answered his boss finally. “So I told him to drive over, and I’d figure out where the hell it is and get it out. That cool?”
“Yeah, just leave bay one open. I’ve got someone bringing a car for me to check out,” Nie Mingjue said, leaving no room for argument.
“No problem.” Feng Xin nodded and then gestured toward the lobby. “Why don’t you go have a seat inside while I check it out, babe.”
Mu Qing nodded and made his way inside. Feng Xin’s hand lingered on the small of his back, keeping in contact until his husband’s reach ran out.
Mu Qing looked back, touched by the reluctance. “The keys are still in the ignition.”
“Got it.” Feng Xin shot him a reassuring smile.
Mu Qing wrenched the door open, ignoring the annoying mechanical chiming that triggered, screeching all the way into the garage bay announcing his arrival. Pei Ming stood behind the counter, a broad smile pulling at his mouth.
“It’s good to see you! I wondered if you’d grace us with your lovely presence today after that call, Mu Qing.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Ho, ho,” Pei Ming chuckled. “Do you need anything? A water?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Just let me know if you change your mind, lovely.”
Mu Qing looked around the waiting area. The large window overlooked the service bay, giving a prime view of the greasy mechanics, lifts, tools, and all of the behind-the-scenes action. All the seats were wide open given there was only one other customer in the place, an older woman who looked on the verge of falling asleep.
But the second Mu Qing moved to walk past her, he seemed to activate her motion detector or something. Her wrinkled face contorted into a sunken in smile, crinkled crowsfeet forming around her eyes. “Look how big you are, honey!”
Mu Qing stopped, his ire prickling instantly, but then he thought of his own mother. Of the old women he’d taken care of back when he’d lived with his mama. He forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m getting pretty big. Barely fit into any of my old clothes.”
His smile was tight as he moved to get out of the way, but then she stood. She wobbled on her feet from the speed of springing up. He had a feeling that someone, somewhere, had told her not to do that. Maybe even to use a cane or a walker. With no warning or comment, she reached a hand out — as if she had every right in the world — and landed that gnarled, wrinkly palm on his belly.
He didn’t know what about his stomach, or him, said that it was okay to touch, but it fucking wasn’t. He tensed instantly.
“When are you due?” That old hand rubbed and patted his stomach — alternating. “Must be any day now at this size!”
That was it.
Mu Qing stepped away, both of his hands coming up to protect his bump as he did his best not to go feral on some geriatric woman with no boundaries. “Please don’t touch my bump.” He took another step back (though it was more like a lumbered wobble backward at this weight) to further create distance and force the cooperation. “And it’s twins. So, I’m just getting bigger faster.”
A series of expressions crossed the old woman’s face in quick succession, one emotion bleeding into the next — offense, understanding, pouting — and it all ended on a sage nod before her lips pulled tight in a pinched expression. Well, that was too damn bad.
Mu Qing was finished playing nice; he beelined for a seat to watch what was going on through the large window. Feng Xin had already pulled the car into the garage. The hood was popped, and Feng Xin had a flashlight in his mouth as he leaned in, trying to see around different parts of the engine.
Had the kitten made any noise when Feng Xin pulled the car into the bay?
Was it getting hotter under the hood? Was the kitten in distress? Was Feng Xin going to remember to be gentle despite the fact that he was a big oaf?
Feng Xin reappeared from beneath the hood before moving to get on his hands and knees, peeking beneath the car. He pulled the flashlight out of his mouth to hold in his greasy palms, looking for a better angle, and Mu Qing grimaced. Disgusting. He’d need to remember to remind Feng Xin to disinfect his mouth later — who knew where that thing had been.
It was almost comical, watching Feng Xin crawl around on the garage concrete floor and flopping back so he could peek under different parts of the car. First the driver side wheel and then the passenger. With each step of the process, Feng Xin somehow managed to find a way to smear more of that black grease over his face. Mu Qing could already foresee dirty little faces dotted in freckles with dirt and mud mirroring their father.
Mu Qing’s right hand settled on his belly, consciously… subconsciously — it really didn’t matter. He rubbed soothing circles over the taut skin, fighting against the uncomfortable stretching and tense pain. One of the twins really was an entitled little brat who thought he had all the room in the world in there. But, Mu Qing thought idly, let him be a brat. As long as he stayed where he was for as long as possible.
The both of them needed to.
Feng Xin popped back up on his feet and opened the door, shining the flashlight into what looked like the vents. Discomfort and fear bubbled in Mu Qing’s gut. He really hoped it wasn’t too late. He needed his husband to get the kitten out.
He had to.
The mechanical chime — grating and annoying as it was — sounded overhead, and Mu Qing turned his head as a twink sauntered in and made his way up to Pei Ming. The letch was situated comfortably behind the counter, looking half-bored until he noticed the new arrival. Mu Qing idly wondered which of the idiot’s pick-up lines were about to spill out of his mouth, but he didn’t care enough to pay full attention.
Feng Xin was now on the driver’s side checking those vents.
Mu Qing never would have thought of his husband as a step-by-step guy, but now that he had a front row seat to watch him at work, it sort of made sense. Feng Xin was a rule follower. Ticking each thing off made sense, but damn if it didn’t put Mu Qing on edge.
“HEY PEI MING, BACK OFF! That’s my didi’s friend,” Nie Mingjue roared.
Mu Qing jumped, turning back toward the newest customer who had been joined by none other than the owner himself.
“GET BACK TO WORK!”
Maybe that man was why Feng Xin came home unable to turn his volume down sometimes?
Mu Qing tuned out the conversation that was none of his business (even if he couldn’t help but catch that the other man was, apparently, friends with Nie Huaisang). He tried, instead, to focus on Feng Xin, but seeing the buffoon with his broad shoulders trying to get down into the front floorboards and shine that dumb flashlight of his beneath the dashboard panel didn’t help much. It just brought the worry back.
And Feng Xin was wearing his coveralls properly, which meant that Mu Qing couldn’t even distract himself with ogling either.
Sighing to himself, Mu Qing pulled out his phone. He took the time to reply to Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan, hoping to take his mind off of his kitten-induced anxiety. But that task was over as soon as it began. He scrolled through his other text conversations, seeking out anything else he could fiddle with, but he was caught up. Reluctantly, he tucked his phone back into his pocket.
“Aiyo, are you expecting?” the most recent customer called out to him.
Mu Qing turned his gaze to the other man, taking in the red ribbon in his hair and impish smile stretching out across his mouth. Logically, he was probably asking because it was never safe to assume, but that didn’t stop Mu Qing’s ire from rising. Mainly because that little voice in the back of his head — the one that was sure that Feng Xin would eventually leave him (and that frequently convinced him of just how fat and ugly he looked on any given day) — bubbled up so quickly to hiss out how humongous he must be for that to even be a question!
“Obviously!” Mu Qing rolled his eyes and fought not to outright sneer at a stranger.
It was a stupid question. It really was, but maybe he was just trying to be polite.
Still — after the moment with the auntie earlier (who had fallen asleep at some point) — Mu Qing was on high alert. Before he could stop himself, his mouth ran away from him.
“And no, don’t even think about touching my bump!”
As soon as the words were blurted out, he felt stupid. Surely someone younger wouldn’t do something so presumptuous. Yet he’d felt the need to growl it out anyway. Turning his attention back to the garage bay, Mu Qing’s mood shifted, and he held back a snort of amusement.
Feng Xin was back under the hood, the damn flashlight between his teeth once more. He leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed, and seemingly forgetting where his light was coming from — or maybe his brain just stopped working — parted his lips to bite his tongue in concentration. The torch tumbled out of his mouth, clanging against the engine and then rolling down to the concrete floor, eliciting a colorful string of curses.
“Idiot,” Mu Qing muttered to himself fondly.
But Feng Xin was his idiot. Mu Qing didn’t know what he would have done if it weren’t for his husband. No — that’s not true. He would have probably wound up at a garage somewhere. Then he would have been charged an excruciatingly high fee to save the furball that decided the inside of Mu Qing’s car was the best place to curl up and take a not-so-safe little nap.
He would have paid the fee, too. He would have done it and then struggled financially in the aftermath. But, instead, he had Feng Xin.
So, he didn’t have to live that life. Not anymore.
This wasn’t even the first time one of their vehicles had been brought into Nie Mingjue’s garage for a no-charge quick fix. As long as they didn’t take the spot up for too long, he never seemed to mind. Though, at this rate, Mu Qing was beginning to wonder if Feng Xin would be able to get the kitten free without injury to himself or the furball.
How long was this going to take?
As if he needed a reminder, Mu Qing’s stomach growled, and he rubbed the swollen mound in hopes that it would calm the babies. They were shifting and kicking within, reacting to Mu Qing’s growing hunger pains. He left the house for a reason, and now that most of the adrenaline had worn off from discovering the furry stowaway, Mu Qing couldn’t help but think about all of the things he still wanted from the store.
Maybe… just maybe… kitten chow could be added to the list?
Feng Xin was now on the ground again, stretched out under the car to reach and snatch up his light. Mu Qing tuned Pei Ming and the other young man out, watching as Feng Xin circled back around to the passenger seat and began to take a screwdriver to something in and around the stereo. It seemed like it took Feng Xin no time before he was pulling the front panel off. He twisted, his broad shoulders contorting in a way that seemed almost impossible for his big body, trying to reach into the cavity exposed without the protective barrier.
Mu Qing watched, willing the kitten to come out. Willing Feng Xin to hear or see it. To find and rescue the tiny creature.
“HEY! PEI MING!” Feng Xin barked.
Pei Ming took a quick survey of those waiting in the lobby before he headed back. Mu Qing couldn’t make out what the two men were saying to each other, but Pei Ming made his way around to the driver’s side. He assisted in pulling the dash forward with Feng Xin’s help before holding it in place.
Mu Qing’s husband shimmied his way back into the floorboard. God, he looked so stupid.
“FUCK!”
There was Feng Xin’s voice again. Mu Qing wondered if he should just take the jeep and go to the store. Sitting here and watching the theatrics was leaving him tense and uncomfortable. Worried. He didn’t know if it was doing any good. It wasn’t like being here was cheering Feng Xin on. Mu Qing was just waiting.
Taking up space.
Hell, bringing the car here was taking Feng Xin away from the job he was supposed to be doing. He was probably supposed to be fixing the twink’s car. Guilt began to settle in, and Mu Qing swallowed it down, feeling it sit heavy in his stomach right between the babies.
To distract himself, he took out his phone again, fumbling from app to app as he bargained with himself. He had to wait for at least five minutes before he looked through that viewing window again. If he could wait that long, he’d earn his next peek back at Feng Xin.
Mu Qing checked his text threads. Then his email. He even pulled up the weather.
“Babe?”
Mu Qing’s head shot up. His stupid, dirty husband stood in front of him, sporting more loose hairs than when he started. New smudges joined the old on his handsome face. He was bleeding too — a series of scratches on his right hand — but in his big meaty palms, cradled against his tits, was a small gray kitten.
“You found it,” Mu Qing whispered.
He shot to his feet faster than he had in some time.
Feng Xin rushed forward, steadying Mu Qing with his free hand. “Careful, Qing’er.”
“I’m fine!” Mu Qing snapped, looking down at the little ball of fluff held against his husband’s dirty coveralls. “Is it okay? You didn’t hurt it, did you?”
“It’s fine.” Feng Xin rolled his eyes. “But the little shit clawed the hell out of me — thanks for worrying, by the way.”
Mu Qing ignored the tease in favor of holding one hand out for the kitten to sniff. He was utterly entranced. The small gray feline was easily held in the palm of Feng Xin’s hand, its spicy little claws digging into the fleshy part of his husband’s thumb as it let out the cutest little hiss. But the poor thing wasn’t nearly big enough.
It needed food.
Another spicy hiss escaped as Mu Qing’s fingers drew near, and Feng Xin almost pulled the kitten away before the mood shifted. Whiskers and a dry nose sniffed at the outstretched hand before that little head butted at his knuckles. Then, as if to assert dominance, it hissed again just because it could. Mu Qing’s heart soared, and he slowly lifted his hand to pet the kitten.
“Hi,” he whispered softly.
“Fuck,” Feng Xin replied.
Mu Qing shot a glare at his husband, “What?!”
“You’ve already fallen in love with the goddamn hairball,” he complained.
“No, I haven’t.”
Feng Xin looked at him skeptically. The hairs on the back of Mu Qing’s neck prickled, and though he felt lighter, his eyes began to sting and his throat grew tight. Damn it!
“Baobei…”
“No!” Mu Qing hissed. “Stop, I’m fine. Just call the animal shelter, and get rid of it. But give me the jeep keys, so I can go get my damn pickles!”
Maybe Feng Xin would have believed that he was fine. Maybe he would have bought that he didn’t care. Maybe he would have continued with the plan that his husband laid out… if it weren’t for the crack in Mu Qing’s voice as he bit out the end of his sentence.
He just really needed his pickles, damn it!
He couldn’t stand to sit here while Feng Xin put his car back together, waiting for someone to come pick up the kitten. The idea became more and more incomprehensible as the kitten caught his fingers between its paws, curling its claws around the appendage as it gnawed on his knuckle. Playfully.
This was so stupid. They had babies on the way!
They didn’t need another mouth to feed in addition to the two human babies and dog they already had. He was being ridiculous. Hormonal. And the frustration building in his gut didn’t make any of that easier to swallow.
Big moon-shaped eyes looked up at him as the kitten finally let his hand go. Then it let out a little mewl-turned-hiss, attempting to swipe up the hand-toy again, demanding attention.
“Babe, take her.” Feng Xin thrust the furry little body in his direction.
Mu Qing cradled the small, fuzzy body immediately. While shooting his husband a glare. “Be careful, dumbass!”
Feng Xin snorted.
“I’m serious!” Mu Qing snapped. “What if you had dropped her?”
“You’ve got her.” Feng Xin shrugged. “Pretty sure you’d have towed the car here yourself to make sure you protected her.”
“Shut up,” Mu Qing muttered, resting the kitten against his chest and lightly petting the gray fur atop her head.
“Softie.”
“I hate you,” Mu Qing retorted, refusing to look away from the little body nestled against his heart. “Just get it over with. Call someone from the animal shelter to come and get her.”
Mu Qing cleared his throat, attempting to fight back the emotions. At this rate, he was going to dig into the newly purchased pickles right there in the jeep before even leaving the damn grocery store. Then, of course, he would have to follow his snack up by taking a nap with Arrow. At least their dog would be understanding. And comforting.
Unlike his master.
“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin said.
And waited.
Mu Qing refused to look.
His husband groaned, “Baby, look at me, goddamn it.”
“No,” Mu Qing refused softly. “Make the call, and give me your keys. The babies want pickles.”
“Stop fucking pouting.”
“I’m not pouting!” Mu Qing argued, a scowl pulling at his features as he looked up.
Feng Xin was staring at him — oil and crap smeared all over his stupid face — but the look was soft. Loving. It lacked the annoyance and judgement and frustration that Mu Qing had been conjuring up in his head. It made Mu Qing’s heart hurt a little as his nose and eyes stung again.
“Yeah, you are, babe.”
Mu Qing frowned harder. Feng Xin reached out, only for Mu Qing to take a step back.
“Don’t you dare touch me with those grimy, dirty hands. You have grease and gunk all over you!”
Feng Xin barked out a laugh, his hands going up in surrender as he reached for his rag. “All right, fair.”
He worked the rag over his hands, trying to free them of the grime. But much like his face, he only made more of a mess.
“You’re hopeless.”
“Like you fucking aren’t,” Feng Xin shot back.
“Are you done? Can you just hurry up so I can go—?”
“We’re keeping the fucking cat, baobei,” Feng Xin said.
The declaration rang out, the words refusing to process at first. They felt wrong. Sounded foreign. They already had a dog. And two babies on the way.
“We can’t,” Mu Qing fought.
Not that he knew why; he wanted the kitten. He loved the kitten. Already. No part of him wanted to hand the furry little body purring against his chest to someone else, and yet… he felt like he had to argue.
“Yeah, we can,” Feng Xin reassured. “You love cats. You’ve wanted one for a while. We both know that Arrow is fine with cats; he hasn’t killed E’ming’s dumbass yet. She’s ours — or, I guess, yours. She seems pretty fucking attached to you. Hasn’t hissed once since settling in your arms. Look how fucking tight she’s tucked herself in — pretty sure that means something.”
Mu Qing chewed on his thoughts, his words, his reaction.
Begrudgingly, he breathed, “She chose me.”
“Yeah, babe, I think she did,” Feng Xin agreed.
Their eyes met, and Mu Qing’s face burned beneath the intense and loving look that Feng Xin wore.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that. ” Mu Qing fought his grin back, not ready to let it out just yet.
He was still hesitant. After all, a kitten was a lot. Could they really do this? Could they manage it?
“Stop fucking overthinking it, Qing’er,” Feng Xin said, stepping forward until the toes of their shoes touched.
Mu Qing brought his gaze back to his husband’s face.
He was such a jerk. With his freckles and the earnest and sunshiney smile he wore. And the pure love and adoration that wafted off of him. It made Mu Qing feel things — both good and bad. He felt like he was getting sunburnt beneath that look.
“She’s ours, so you’re gonna have to add cat shit to the craving list when you go to the store,” Feng Xin pointed out, breath tickling Mu Qing’s face. “And she needs a damn name.”
“She already has one,” Mu Qing said.
“You already gave her one?” Feng Xin asked incredulously.
“I couldn’t help it. It just came to me when I saw you with her,” Mu Qing shrugged, batting his lashes at Feng Xin.
Maybe the oil and dirt on his face wasn’t so bad. Not all the time, anyway. He looked sort of rugged.
“Well, let’s have it?”
“Saber,” Mu Qing said, an impish glint shining in his eyes as he glanced down at Feng Xin’s sliced and diced hand.
He met Feng Xin’s insulted scoff with a wild grin.
“Saber,” Feng Xin repeated. He looked down at his own hand and let out a defeated sigh, a small reluctant smile touching his own lips. “I guess it’s fucking fitting, and it matches our vibe. Alright. I like it. Welcome to the family, kittycat.”
Feng Xin dipped his head, bringing their lips together in a lingering kiss until a little bright mewl interrupted them. Mu Qing broke away to shush the kitten, and Feng Xin groaned, shooting their new pet a playful glare.
"Cockblock," Feng Xin grumbled.
"A'Xin," Mu Qing cooed coyly.
"Yeah, kitten?" Feng Xin husked out, his eyes flickering down to Mu Qing's lips again hopefully.
Mu Qing leaned in but kept a hair's breadth away. "You better get used to it," he said, abruptly spinning on his heel to walk out of the lobby, Feng Xin’s keys now jangling tauntingly from his free hand. "We're about to have three little cockblocks to contend with."
"Oh, fuck!"