Work Text:
Strike where the enemy least expected it.
Bai Yutang had to admit he liked the way Zhan Zhao's mind worked.
After all, neither officials nor civilians could be trusted in Wanshan County. Every step they took there would be watched, every word overheard. Gusheng County offered uncertainty, but uncertainty was preferable to a trap everyone could already see.
Still, that did not absolve Zhan Zhao of his other crimes.
First: once they reached Gusheng County, he was not to leave his bed unless the house itself caught fire. Second: Ming Zhu'er had cried himself to sleep the previous night when he thought no one was watching.
Frowning, Bai Yutang demanded, "Give me your hand."
Zhan Zhao blinked. "My hand?"
"Your hand."
A hint of confusion crossed Zhan Zhao's face. Had he not just promised to take better care of himself?
Unable to endure the hesitation, Bai Yutang reached across the table, seized his wrist, and planted his hand firmly between them.
"I need to check your pulse," Bai Yutang said. "If I have to carve that medical manual into my brain, I might as well make use of it."
"Really, I'm al—"
"Tell that to Ming Zhu'er," Bai Yutang interrupted, his expression darkening instantly. "The poor boy is worried sick about you. He barely slept." The teasing vanished from his voice, replaced by something raw. "I can't believe you could be so heartless."
Zhan Zhao's brows drew together.
"I understand if it were me," Bai Yutang continued, looking away. "But he's still a child. And he cares about you."
The room fell dead silent.
When Bai Yutang finally looked back, he found Zhan Zhao staring at him. He was not angry, nor was he amused; he was simply staring, his gaze heavy and unreadable. The expression unsettled Bai Yutang more than a sharp retort ever could.
After a long moment, Zhan Zhao asked quietly, "Am I heartless toward you?"
Bai Yutang froze. The question landed like a stone dropped into perfectly still water.
"That's not what I said."
"It is what you implied."
"No."
"It sounded very much like it."
The look on Zhan Zhao's face was unexpectedly wounded, as though the suggestion itself had struck far deeper than any accusation about the boy.
Suddenly finding the grain of the wooden table intensely interesting, Bai Yutang cleared his throat. "Show me your back."
"What?"
"The green marks."
The change of subject was so abrupt that even Zhan Zhao looked startled. "You said they had spread."
"They have."
"Then show me."
A faint flush crept onto the tips of Zhan Zhao's ears. "That isn't necessary."
"It is to me."
"Bai Yutang—"
"Take off the robe."
"No."
The refusal came so quickly that Bai Yutang let out a sharp laugh. "There they are."
"There what are?"
"The signs of recovery."
Zhan Zhao narrowed his eyes. "You become impossible whenever you think you're winning an argument."
"And you become evasive whenever someone asks you to follow a doctor's orders."
With that, Zhan Zhao rose from his chair. Bai Yutang immediately rose after him.
"Sit down."
"No."
"Zhan Zhao."
"No." The answer was accompanied by an unmistakably smug smile.
Bai Yutang felt a sudden, irrational desire to wipe it right off his face. Preferably with his own hands.
When Zhan Zhao turned to leave, Bai Yutang lunged. The Imperial Cat saw him coming; he slipped aside with practiced grace, and Bai Yutang caught only the fleeting edge of his sleeve.
"Cheating," Zhan Zhao chided.
"You started it."
"Then stop running."
"Then stop chasing."
The study instantly descended into chaos. A chair scraped harshly across the floor. A stack of scrolls narrowly escaped disaster. Zhan Zhao twisted away again, but this time, Bai Yutang managed to snag his collar. The fabric pulled loose under the tension.
"Got you."
"That hardly counts."
"It counts enough."
Zhan Zhao attempted to break free, but Bai Yutang tightened his grip, neither man willing to surrender an inch. Moments later, they collided with a low table. The table lost. Both men went down in a tangle of limbs, and Bai Yutang landed squarely on top of him.
The impact knocked a startled, breathless laugh from Zhan Zhao.
His robe had slipped wide at the collar, exposing the line of his throat. His hair had half-fallen from its tie, pooling dark against the floorboards, and a bright flush colored his cheeks from exertion.
Bai Yutang braced his weight on his arms, hands planted firmly on either side of Zhan Zhao’s head to keep from crushing him. His own untamed hair fell like a curtain around them, trapping them in a small, private world filled only with the sound of their labored breathing.
For a brief second, neither of them moved.
"Now," Bai Yutang said, his voice a low, breathless rasp. "Show me the marks."
"You're remarkably persistent."
“I could say the same about you.”
Zhan Zhao looked up, his gaze steady. "You're still avoiding my question."
"Which question?"
"The one about whether I’m heartless."
The lingering amusement faded from Bai Yutang’s face. He looked down at Zhan Zhao, his expression intense, almost fierce. "Because the answer should be obvious."
Something in his tone made Zhan Zhao’s pulse violently stumble.
Fortunately for them both, salvation arrived in the form of a loud crash from the doorway.
"Young Master!"
Both men jerked around. Ming Zhu'er stood frozen in the entrance, a half-eaten plum dangling forgotten from his fingertips. His eyes widened. Then, they widened further.
The boy's gaze traveled deliberately from Bai Yutang sitting astride Zhan Zhao, to Zhan Zhao's disheveled collar, and finally to his flushed face.
The silence stretched, thick and mortifying.
Then, Ming Zhu'er planted his small fists on his hips. "Bai Yutang!"
For perhaps the first time in his life, the indomitable White Rat felt a jolt of genuine alarm. "What?"
"You promised to help Young Master recover!"
"I am helping him recover."
"Then why are you m-mounting him?!"
Zhan Zhao closed his eyes. It was not the poison that was going to kill him; it was the sheer, unadulterated embarrassment.
Ming Zhu'er marched into the room like an angry general. "Young Master is sick!"
"I know," Bai Yutang grumbled, exasperated. Honestly, after all the trouble he went through for the boy's sake!
"Then stop bullying him!"
"I am not bullying him."
"You absolutely are!" The boy pointed an accusing finger. "You even messed up his clothes!"
At that, Zhan Zhao's face burned a spectacular shade of crimson.
Bai Yutang stared at the boy, then at the disarray he had caused, and then, despite himself, a laugh burst from his chest.
Beneath him, Zhan Zhao let out a miserable groan and pushed gently against the broader man’s chest, silently signaling that playtime was officially over.