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Getting woken up by loud banging at the door isn’t really the best way to wake up, Pei Ming will fully admit that. He also knows it’s his own fault, as last night flits through his mind as he hurries to the door before the man behind it can get fed up and burst inside.
Plastering on a huge smile that he doesn’t quite feel, Pei Ming opens the door, and a fist narrowly avoids colliding with his face. “Feng Xin!” he says brightly, completely ignoring the fist floating in front of his eyes. “So sorry about the wait. I overslept, haha. I’ll be right out!”
The fist falls away to show Feng Xin standing there, looking disgruntled. “You’re late, Lao Pei. You know we have a mission today.”
“Yes, yes,” Pei Ming easily agrees, waving a hand. “My mistake. Let me get ready and—”
A low groan comes from behind him, and Pei Ming watches Feng Xin’s eyes flick automatically over his shoulders before his face flushes so fast, Pei Ming is a little impressed that the man doesn’t just faint on the spot.
“Is there a w-woman in there?!”
Pei Ming shoots him a winning smile and slams the door in his face without giving an answer.
Turning to his room, all he can see on the bed is a huge fluff of brown curls, the others' back turned towards him. Pei Ming gets dressed quickly before going to the other side. He doesn’t want Feng Xin to get his wits about him and start pounding on the door again.
“Yizhen?” Pei Ming shakes the man’s shoulder slightly, just enough to earn another groan. “I’m leaving now.”
The way that Quan Yizhen scrunches up his face will never not be endearing, and with a little pleased flutter of his heart, Pei Ming ducks down to plant a fast kiss on those pouting lips. “See you later, alright?”
Quan Yizhen mutters something that could be an agreement, or could be something annoyed, but either way, Pei Ming leaves with a pep in his step. Feng Xin is standing just where he left him, arms crossed, leveling him with an acid glare.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s get going, we’re already late!” Pei Ming brushes past him, humming happily under his breath, ignoring the swell of curse words that drift from behind him.
Despite starting out on the wrong foot, working with Feng Xin is relatively simple. Once the man calms down, they’re able to start poking around, trying to find the monster that has been causing havoc around a small town, destroying crops and eating up animals, that sort of thing.
Normally, it’s not something they’d be asked to team up on, but ever since Xie Lian has been made the ‘unofficial’—but obviously official—emperor, he’s asked the marital gods to work together more often to create a “Work environment that is more harmonious!” whatever that means.
Regardless, Feng Xin is fun. He’s easy to tease and easy to rile up, two things that Pei Ming enjoys immensely. Would he prefer to spend today with his newest not-yet-given-a-label-but-maybe-they-ought-to-think-of-one-soon man? Why, yes, yes, he would. But this is entertaining in its own way, so he’s not that upset about it. It’s better than teaming up with Mu Qing, who is so dour, it makes his teeth ache.
The two of them work together well enough, and Feng Xin tolerates Pei Ming’s running commentary with only a bit of flushing and cursing.
After talking to a few townspeople, they begin scouting the dense forest surrounding the town, searching for a trail of the monster. A sudden BOOM! shatters through the air, making the ground beneath them shake with the impact.
Feng Xin turns towards the disturbance with a raised brow. They can both sense that it’s heavenly in nature, not a demon, and Pei Ming turns as well, with a hopeful stutter in his heart.
His hopes are rewarded when a familiar figure emerges from behind a tree. His thick brows are furrowed over sharp yellow eyes. They barely give Feng Xin a glance before visibly dismissing him. Then, that piercing gaze lands on Pei Ming, and he can’t help but smile as Quan Yizhen’s frown deepens.
“Yizhen! What a surprise,” he calls out. “What brings you all the way out here?”
“Did you invite him?” Feng Xin asks, perplexed, as Quan Yizhen marches through some bushes to get to them without responding. Pei Ming understands his confusion. Quan Yizhen doesn’t volunteer for joint missions and doesn’t get invited to them either; he’s more likely to rush straight in and defeat something on his own.
“Nope!” Pei Ming says happily. Quan Yizhen doesn’t acknowledge Feng Xin at all, just struts (maybe not struts, but Pei Ming is enjoying the view just fine, so he’ll call it whatever he wants) straight into Pei Ming’s personal bubble, leaning up until their noses almost touch. He’s pouting. Pei Ming wants to die with how cute he finds him.
“You left,” Quan Yizhen says, voice flat, though with his pouting face, it’s clear he’s disgruntled. Pei Ming could swoon. “Without saying anything.”
“Who, me?” Pei Ming takes a chance and swings an arm around Quan Yizhen’s shoulders, tugging the shorter man into his side. And, thrillingly, Quan Yizhen doesn’t pull away, so Pei Ming leans into his warmth, letting him take on some of his weight. “Never! I woke you up to say I was leaving. And I told you I had a mission last night. Remember?”
Quan Yizhen screws up his face in thought, as if going over the previous night. There’s a noticeable pause. They ended up doing a lot last night, and most of it was decidedly not talking. Finally, Quan Yizhen seems to recall that at some point, Pei Ming had told him he’d be busy today. “Hmph. Alright. What are you doing now, then?”
From the corner of his eye, Pei Ming can see Feng Xin throw up his hands in exasperation at that. Quan Yizhen has never been great at listening. He smiles, feeling fond. It’s amazing how much a few rolls in the hay can do to someone’s attitude, because Pei Ming remembers with perfect clarity how much Quan Yizhen's lack of attention had annoyed him before they started doing whatever it is they’re doing.
“On a mission,” he replies sunnily. “With our friend, General Nan Yang.” Pei Ming gestures with his chin at the other man, who crosses his arms with a huff. Quan Yizhen gives him another throwaway glance before looking back up at Pei Ming, obviously uninterested. Pei Ming presses his lips together to hold back a laugh as Feng Xin seethes.
“Oh. Can I help?”
“Sure!” Pei Ming says, before Feng Xin can beat him to it. “The more the merrier.” Quan Yizhen starts to pull away from his side, and Pei Ming tightens his grip just a touch, enough to make the younger man stay still, brows furrowing with confusion. “Though, I will say, I am a little cross with you,” Pei Ming announces with a grand air. “Accusing me of lies! I gave you a goodbye kiss and everything.” There’s a wheeze, like someone is dying, that Pei Ming doesn’t pay attention to at all. “You’ll have to make it up to me.”
What he’s learned after being with Quan Yizhen is that the man needs clear and precise instructions. Quan Yizhen will never come to a conclusion on his own without some help along the way. And, Pei Ming has discovered about himself, he doesn’t mind being upfront about his wants. Quan Yizhen is blunt but responds well to bluntness in return. Although Pei Ming still loves a good tease, as long as Quan Yizhen doesn’t feel like he’s the bunt of the joke, they go together rather well.
Honestly, it had taken Pei Ming by surprise—how well the two of them work. It makes him a little giddy, a little overeager, but he’s trying to take things slow.
In this particular instance, Pei Ming is mostly joking about being upset. He’s putting on a show because, although they’ve never talked about hiding what they’re doing, they’ve never talked about letting other people know, either. But Quan Yizhen has broken down the door here, actively flaunting the fact that the two of them are at least something in front of Feng Xin, and well, Pei Ming wants to milk the situation. Just a little.
Letting go of his hold on Quan Yizhen, the other man grunts, obviously thinking hard.
“I can get you some gold?”
“No, no, I have enough.”
Recognizing that this might take a while, Pei Ming puts his hands on Quan Yizhen’s shoulders and starts pushing him forward. It only takes a few steps before the younger man gets the memo and starts moving on his own. Pei Ming casts a bright smile over his shoulder at Feng Xin, who is doing a great impression of a gaping fish. “Come on, keep up!” he says, which works to shake the man out of his thoughts, and he takes up the rear with an irritated scowl.
Meanwhile, Quan Yizhen is still attempting to find something to appease Pei Ming. “I’ll beat the monster we’re tracking for you?”
“You’re going to do that anyway.”
“I can hold your hand?”
“The moment you get distracted, you’ll let go and forget to come back, so no.”
Quan Yizhen wrinkles his nose at that but doesn’t bother to argue. They both know he’s right from previous experiences.
“How about calling you Lao Gong for a day?” This he says while looking over his shoulder at Pei Ming, tilting his head in a way that reads as cutsy, but Pei Ming knows the other man doesn’t mean it to be. Still, the thought and the action are incredibly cute and terribly tempting.
Pei Ming pauses for long enough that Feng Xin starts making gagging noises from behind them. “… Not for this specific situation, but save that idea for another time.”
“Okay,” Quan Yizhen replies, tone unbothered. Then they all hear what sounds like a tree cracking before being forcibly hitting the ground, and the younger god rushes on ahead, attention instantly laser-focused, their conversation easily discarded.
A sharp tug at the back of his collar forces Pei Ming back a few steps, making him pinwheel his arms before catching himself. Feng Xin’s look is what Pei Ming imagines the man thinks is menacing, but Pei Ming finds it to be no more frightening than a disgruntled wet cat.
“Are you two together?” Feng Xin asks, face screwed up with disbelief as he lets go of Pei Ming’s collar, letting the man stand up straight on his own.
Pei Ming shrugs. “Something like that.”
“Since when? Why?”
“Few months,” Pei Ming answers casually. “And because I like him, and Yizhen seems to like me. So why not?”
Feng Xin’s face still seems like it’s struggling to settle on one expression, looking like he’s swallowed something sour. “Why not? Oh, I don’t know, because he’s impossible? He never listens, and he doesn’t care about anything other than that shixiong of his.” There’s a pause, and Pei Ming almost winces when Feng Xin’s eyes go pitying. “Are you his rebound? Is that what this is about? You would be the type to let people sleep with you to get over someone else. Except…” His voice goes soft, considering, and his eyes dart over Pei Ming’s frame, as if looking for something. “I’ve never seen you like this before. Do you seriously care that much, Lao Pei? About Quan Yizhen of all people?”
Pei Ming’s mouth opens, and there’s no processing from his brain, so he has no idea what he’s going to say either when they’re interrupted by an excited shout. It seems like Quan Yizhen’s found the monster. Relief floods through him, and he starts running, calling back over his shoulder, “We don’t want to miss out on the fun!”
He catches the way Feng Xin rolls his eyes, but the other man is quick to catch up. They burst into a small clearing, Quan Yizhen already in action, having somehow gotten his arms around the monster’s neck. It’s much too large for his arms to go around fully, but the monster is still enraged by the attempt, screeching something awful.
Pei Ming unsheathes his sword and leaps into the fray.
“I think that could have gone better,” Pei Ming notes after everything is said and done, the monster dead at their feet. He’s covered in blood, and so is Quan Yizhen, who is standing nearby, toeing at the monster half-heartedly, as if hoping it’ll suddenly leap back onto its feet for another round.
Feng Xin, archer that he is, is annoyingly unscathed, looking clean and pristine as any god. He huffs. “It’s because the two of you started flirting mid-fight. You shouldn’t urge him on, Lao Pei.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Pei Ming challenges with a cocky smile. “It’s good to be motivated. Isn’t that right, Yizhen?” He turns, expecting Quan Yizhen to still be by the monster, and almost jolts back when he finds the shorter man standing right beside him, staring at him intently.
One of his favorite things about Quan Yizhen is his eyes. When the man is focused, it’s as if that singular thing is all that could possibly hold his attention. Like nothing on heaven or earth could tear it away, unless Yizhen wished it. It’s incredibly endearing, and whenever that attention is on him, Pei Ming always feels a rush of pleasure rip through him. Along with a sense of… power, perhaps? As though if Quan Yizhen thinks he’s that interesting to give his full attention to, then surely Pei Ming must be doing something right.
Without saying a word, Quan Yizhen leans up and kisses his cheek. It’s chaste, but it’s not quick. He kisses Pei Ming out in the open like he’s not ashamed. Which, of course, isn’t surprising. Quan Yizhen seems to be wholly incapable of feeling any kind of shame or embarrassment.
Pei Ming feels his cheek heat, like he’s some young maiden in love for the first time. He can’t help the way his arm reaches out, wrapping around Quan Yizhen’s waist in a way that feels completely natural. Before he can say something teasing and possibly ruin the mood, Quan Yizhen says, with utter seriousness, “Good job. On the hunt. You looked good.” Then, as the final nail in the coffin of Pei Ming’s heart, he reaches up with a hand and starts rubbing at Pei Ming’s other cheek, as if trying to get off some of the blood.
It should ruin the moment; Quan Yizhen’s hand is rough, and he isn’t being particularly gentle. If Pei Ming were to do the same thing, he probably would have licked his thumb and rubbed his finger enticingly over someone’s skin. But for some reason, the show of care is enough to make him feel weak in the knees.
“Thanks, you too,” he says, aware of how gravelly his voice is.
Quan Yizhen nods and lets his hand fall. “Found out there’s a festival. Nearby. His Highness mentioned it when I asked what kind of gift you might like. He said I could probably get you something there.” Quan Yizhen looks at Pei Ming, the yellow in his eyes seems almost to glow as the light of the sun hits them. “Would you like that?”
“When did you talk to His Highness?” Feng Xin’s voice cruelly interrupts their little bubble, and Pei Ming tears his eyes away from Quan Yizhen’s to glare at the other man. Feng Xin returns the look with a flat one of his own, seemingly barely resisting rolling his eyes.
“Asked,” Quan Yizhen answers. “When we finished killing it.” He gestures to the side of his head with a hand, silently referencing their communication arrays.
“I’d love that!” Pei Ming says quickly, heart swelling with fondness. Quan Yizhen grunts with satisfaction, smiling happily that he’d managed to pick something Pei Ming might like. He can’t resist swooping closer to press a quick kiss to those smiling lips, stealing the smile for himself.
Both men ignore Feng Xin’s gagging noises.
Still, Pei Ming doesn’t want to push the situation too far, so he gives Quan Yizhen’s waist a squeeze before pushing him away. “Alright, head back to your palace and clean up. We’re not going to a festival dripping with blood.”
At that, Quan Yizhen’s face falls, and he heaves a great sigh, as if put out. “Fine,” he says flatly, though he doesn't argue, which is already a win. “See you there?” After Pei Ming nods, Quan Yizhen disappears in a flash of heavenly light.
Pei Ming lets himself stand there for a few moments longer, floating in a haze of happiness. Quan Yizhen doesn’t reach out to others for help, unless he absolutely has to. Once, Pei Ming called him over their array, and they had a normal conversation for almost a shichen before Pei Ming noticed that Quan Yizhen was making pained grunts. It took even longer to get out of him that he was stuck in some demon’s cave, and Pei Ming had to go rescue him. So for him to ask Xie Lian for help for no other reason than to make Pei Ming happy, well.
It does make him happy, all things considered.
“You’ve got it so bad,” Feng Xin says, with a snicker. “It’s disgusting to watch the two of you, but maybe it’s a little worth it just to see you being all love-sick. I can’t believe it’s been only a few months. How have you managed to hide it from everyone when you look at him like you’re desperate for a treat?”
“Oh, so like when you look at Mu Qing?” he snaps back.
Feng Xin’s smile falls away, and he snarls. Instantly, he leaps at Pei Ming with nothing more than his fists.
The resulting scuffle is well worth it, in Pei Ming’s opinion, letting him get out some of his nerves.
By the time he’s standing outside of the festival, bathed and redressed, he’s feeling better. More confidence, more grounded. Pei Ming bounces on his toes, his arms folded behind his back as he waits. A few girls shoot him looks, which he returns with a wink, but he doesn’t move towards them or reply to their greetings with something flirty like he normally would, and they pass him by.
Finally, a familiar bush of curls starts hurrying up the path, and Pei Ming’s smile widens.
“Yizhen!” he calls, waving a hand.
It’s silly; he just saw Quan Yizhen, and yet he’s still pleased to see him. 'Love-sick' might not be too far off the mark. He's never really felt like this for any of his previous flings. Which should probably freak him out, but Pei Ming is a master at compartmentalizing, and he's shoving the thought aside for now.
Those bright eyes fall on him, gaze considering, before he greets him with, “Lao Gong.”
Pei Ming chokes on nothing and begins to cough. Quan Yizhen smiles brightly, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth.
“You’re weird,” he says, but the tone is content enough. Pei Ming pouts, clearing his throat.
“You can’t do that to me! It’s too sudden. Warn a guy next time. What if my heart gives out? I'm an old man, you know. Be kind to the elderly.”
Quan Yizhen huffs affectionately before he holds out a hand, palm up. The gesture is expectant, and Pei Ming doesn’t disappoint.
He grabs the palm with his own, intertwining their fingers.
And together, they walk into the festival.