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“You’re scruffy.” Mu Qing protested, pushing Feng Xin’s face away from him when the other god leaned in.
“A-Qing, you won’t even spare me a kiss after my mission? And to think, we haven’t seen each other in so long.” Feng Xin whined, pushing himself closer, deterred only by the hand Mu Qing planted on his face to shove him away.
“No way, you’re all spikey.” Mu Qing shook his head.
“Ah, but I’m so tired.” Feng Xin sighed, digging his chin into Mu Qing’s shoulders. “I scarcely have the energy to hold myself upright.”
“You’re pushing it.” Mu Qing said dryly but he didn’t move to push Feng Xin off. “You’re a god, Feng Xin, surely some amateur mission didn’t wipe you out.”
“It’s not seeing you for so long that’s wiped me out, baobei.” Feng Xin said seriously, hiding a smile when he saw the tips of Mu Qing’s ears flushing.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Mu Qing sniffed, turning his nose up. “That’s it, I cannot stand the feeling of your fucking scruff, we’re getting rid of it.”
“We?” Feng Xin extracted himself from Mu Qing, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Yes, we. Because you’re not going to do anything about it and I’m the one who’s going to suffer.” Mu Qing heaved a sigh. “Come.”
Feng Xin, a man in love, went.
They were in Mu Qing’s palace, where Feng Xin had immediately come to after finishing up his mission and reporting to Ling Wen. It was quite late, so most of the deputies in Mu Qing’s palace had disappeared, leaving an empty palace and General Xuan Zhen on his own. Feng Xin followed Mu Qing through the dimly lit corridors until they got to his bathroom, a place Feng Xin knew intimately and no better than his own.
“Sit.” Mu Qing pushed down on Feng Xin’s shoulders, sitting him down on the porcelain edge of the massive bath. “Divest yourself of your armour, it’s disgusting and I cannot imagine it’s comfortable either.”
“Trying to get me out of my clothes already, Mu Qing?” Feng Xin teased as he obeyed. “All you had to do was ask.”
“Take your fucking clothes off.” Mu Qing deadpanned, bustling around and gathering things as Feng Xin did as he asked. The archer unclipped his cape first, draping it over the edge of the bath along with his bow. Then he unclipped the straps of the armour on chest and laid it on the ground before finally divesting himself of his shirt and sighing in relief as the cool air hit his bare upper body.
Mu Qing approached him then with two towel, a bowl of water and a blade in hand. He set the bowl down on the porcelain beside Feng Xin and nudged his legs apart so he could stand in the middle. Feng Xin’s hands, somehow, found their way up and on Mu Qing’s waist, palms burning even through the fabric of his robes.
“Filthy.” Mu Qing murmured, dipping one of the towels in the bowl and swiping it over Feng Xin’s face gently, cleaning away the blood and grime. “Couldn’t find time to take a bath?”
“Forgive me for not prioritising looking presentable over killing the Wrath that had been terrorising a town in, mind you, our shared territory.” Feng Xin retorted, closing his eyes as the towel swiped over them, removing the congealed blood on his eyelashes and eyebrows. He opened them again and caught a fond look on Mu Qing’s face that disappeared as quick as it appeared.
“I would’ve been able to do both.” Mu Qing pressed harshly against Feng Xin’s hairline.
“Ow.” He said without heat, rolling his eyes. “Forgive me, princess, we’re not all like you.”
“As I’m well aware.” Mu Qing sighed. “That’s as best as it’ll get without a bath.” He dropped the towel and picked up the other, clean one along with the blade.
“Pretty sharp blade you got there, Mu Qing.” Feng Xin commented as Mu Qing stepped even closer between his legs.
“Worried?”
“Never.” Feng Xin shook his head and leaned it back, baring his throat in a display of trust so blatant, Mu Qing felt his breath hitch in his throat. “Not a lot of people I’d let near my throat with a blade.”
“Oh yeah?” Mu Qing hummed, slathering some cream onto the bottom half of Feng Xin’s face and then sliding the blade over his jaw steadily in a smooth swipe.
“Just you, I think.” Feng Xin paused.
“Not His Highness?” Mu Qing stopped to let Feng Xin speak.
“His Highness wouldn’t be in a situation where he had a blade anywhere near my throat.” Feng Xin huffed out a laugh.
“Suppose so. Stop moving now.” Mu Qing demanded and Feng Xin smiled with his eyes closed, tightening his grip on Mu Qing’s waist.
The darker haired man practically held Feng Xin’s life in his hands. He could end it if he so wished, right here in this very moment, just angle the blade upwards a little and press and he would slice right through Feng Xin’s jugular vein. It made him oddly emotional how readily Feng Xin seemed to trust him.
“A-Qing.” Feng Xin opened his eyes when he felt Mu Qing stop. “You good?”
“Mhm.” Mu Qing tried to hum but it came out a little strangled and Feng Xin frowned. He nudged the hand holding the blade to the side and then pulled Mu Qing onto his lap, wrapping his arms around the others waist instead. “My robes.”
“Fuck the robes. What’s wrong?” Feng Xin demanded.
“Nothing is wrong.” Mu Qing bit back. Years later, and he still struggled to say what he truly meant, still deflected when it really came down to talking about his feelings, still got scared and tried to run like a coward.
“Liar.” Feng Xin called him out. Ah, that was something else he loved liked about Feng Xin; how readily he fought back against Mu Qing and called him out on something most people would have accepted or dismissed. No one challenged him like Feng Xin did. “Mu Qing.”
“Feng Xin.”
“You can tell me.” He softened his tone, and oh that really wasn’t fair, was it? How was he supposed to resist when Feng Xin said his name all sweet and fond and assured him so softly, when he held him like he was something precious, something important that he wanted to treasure.
“Just… still takes me aback how much you trust me. Only years ago, you’d have rather… I don’t know… fought White No-Face than let me this close to your throat with a blade.” Mu Qing huffed.
“Mu Qing.” Feng Xin frowned. “I might have not liked you very much initially, and we fought and argued a lot, but I’ve trusted you for 800 years. I never showed it before, because everyone knows you’d never take something like that well but… I did trust you. With my life.”
“Oh.” Mu Qing said dumbly.
“You’re the smartest person I know but you can be so stupid when it comes to feelings.” Feng Xin snorted.
“Real hypocritical of you.” Mu Qing retorted. “You look stupid with your face half-shaved.”
“I wonder who’s fault that is.” Feng Xin raised an eyebrow. “Go on then, finish it.”
“Are you going to let me up?”
“Nope!” He said cheerfully.
“You’re such a hassle, A-Xin.” Mu Qing sighed playfully, shifting a little to cup the side of Feng Xin’s face with one hand and position the blade with the other, carefully gliding it over the skin and slicing off his scruff one line at a time. Feng Xin, meanwhile, continued to have his arms around Mu Qing’s waist, eyes closed as he fully surrendered himself to Mu Qing.