Work Text:
He found it almost amusing, the thought that two decades ago he would have deeply hated being in this situation. How much had changed, Shen Qingqiu mused while turning a page, barely paying attention to the content of the book, and how much hadn’t.
He still despised most people. Humans were horrible, wretched beings, and men were the worst of their lot. He didn’t think anything would ever change his mind on this, no matter how long he lived, even if he ended up ascending to Heaven. He was the prime example of this; a greedy, selfish, tainted creature that was masquerading as a cultivator. Just because some people proved themselves to be above the rest didn’t mean much for humanity. He would always expect people he met to have ulterior motives, to be ready to betray him at the first occasion, to be willing to let him rot in a hellish mansion while they were working on bettering themselves as an untouchable cultivator.
And yet, here he was. He held back a sigh, relaxing further into the strong back behind him and pressing his cheek against his shoulder blade. Liu Qingge paused in the cleaning of his sword, his movements briefly stopping for a second or two before he went back to methodically handling his weapon. Maybe it was the soft sound of the rain on the roof of the bamboo house or the repetitive noises of the other man taking care of Cheng Luan, but he could feel himself fall into a tender, mellow mood. It was very uncharacteristic of him but Shen Qingqiu decided to indulge for once. At this hour and with this weather, no one would be out anywhere close to the bamboo house. It was only the two of them here, and there was no danger to be worried of.
Wasn’t it something of a miracle, he wondered with something close to awe, that he could not only let his guard down around a man, but also trust him to protect him from any threat that could occur? It had taken a long time to reach that level of absolute faith, but after having been married for eleven years, they had worked through too many issues together for him to doubt his husband again. The Qing Jing Peak Lord would never say it out loud, already had had a hard time saying it to himself, but he treasured that relationship he had, that peace he could find whenever he was with Liu Qingge. It was something they built together with a lot of effort, something that was only theirs, and he would rather burn down the sect than let it go. He was too greedy to ever allow his husband to slip between his fingers.
He felt more than he saw the other Peak Lord lay his sword on his lap, his work done. He rolled his eyes, exasperated and a little fond. If he didn’t say anything, he knew Liu Qingge wouldn’t move a muscle and let him rest against his back for hours while reading, that ridiculous man.
“Are you done?”
“Yes. But you can keep reading.”
“That’s fine.” He straightened up and closed his book and, expecting the protest that would follow, added, “This book is garbage. The author’s style is terrible, and his metaphors are some of the most uncreative and boring sequences of words I’ve ever read. My youngest disciple could probably do better.”
Liu Qingge huffed a laugh, and he did his best to ignore the way his chest always warmed up whenever his words caused a positive reaction in the other man.
“Let’s go to bed, then.”
They both cleaned up their things, putting away their sword and book before going to their bedroom. Shen Qingqiu let his gaze absently roam around all of their things cluttering the room; an half-finished report for Bai Zan on the desk next to a pile of cultivation theory books, a fan they were given as a wedding gift by his jiejies displayed on a shelf, one of Mingyan-mei’s painting representing them hammered down on the wall. He would have never expected this bedroom to ever become a place so warm.
He was barely done tying the final layer of his night wear that he was already noticing his husband perk up in the corner of his eye.
“I can take care of your hair”, he offered with barely hidden eagerness, the same way he did every evening.
At this point, this had become a routine he felt reluctant to break by pointing out the man wasn’t fooling anyone. Shen Qingqiu simply kneeled down on the cushion they used for that purpose, and let his husband proceed with brushing his hair. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed these moments too, of sweetness so strong he could almost feel it coat his tongue; they helped him unwind from the day, no matter how difficult, until he felt ready to melt into their bed. He almost shivered appreciatively when strong hands delicately braided his hair for the night, and as usual, stayed still a few more seconds until he felt the soft pressure of lips against the top of his head, leaving behind a syrupy warmth traveling in his body.
“Your turn”, he said while getting up. He knew from experience that if he didn’t, Liu Qingge would carry him to bed to go to sleep without letting him give the favour back.
He could somewhat understand the appeal of hair brushing, though he would never be as enthusiastic as the other man for the activity. It was soothing and comforting to slowly get rid of any knots until his fingers could run freely in silky hair, and then to accomplish the mundane and repetitive movements of braiding the strands. There was also something satisfying in turning his husband into putty simply through styling his hair.
Shen Qingqiu let go of the braid and waited a few seconds for him to wake up from the haze it always put him through. Liu Qingge twisted around to give him one of his small, barely noticeable smiles, and he huffed at the fluttering in his stomach. Wasn’t it embarrassing, to still be so affected by something as ridiculous as a smile after years of marriage?
He got up in the vain hope of hiding his blushing ears, as if his husband didn’t already know his reactions by heart, and moved to lie down in their bed. Liu Qingge joined him after extinguishing the candles around the room. It only took them a few seconds to settle in their usual sleeping position, with the War God wrapped around him and nuzzling his face against his neck with a pleased noise. He sighed fondly and let himself relax in the warm embrace, softly falling asleep to the rhythm of his husband’s breathing.