lonelydream | INBOX (for eastbound)

Hm. Well, you should.

( Be lazy, he means. Of course he'll nag about it eventually, it's what he does, but he can see the benefit in not having Zhou Zishu overexerting himself. It might do more harm than good. Wen Kexing keeps watching him, something almost sleepy about his gaze. It's the wine, or the hour, or how in this little space they've carved he's like a trusting housecat blinking slow. He's so happy he's fit to bursting with it, which makes the worry all the more sharper. )

Are you hungry? I should have brought something back.

( Had he been more forgetful by himself? Probably. Eating was the least of his worries. It makes him frown regardless, thoughtful. )

I could go back out.

Stay.

[ He says it immediately, insistent. ]

Rest, hm?

[ Zishu brings a hand up, smoothing it over Wen Kexing's hair. ]

( It's hard to disguise the way his expression goes softly vulnerable at the touch, eyes widening a fraction, lips parting on a breath. Zhou Zishu has been kind to him before - he has recalled the embrace in Puppet Manor far too often, furious at himself and still somehow heartsick - but each new instance has his stomach squirming, his heart racing. What a strange thing, to be cared for, to have someone daring enough to scale the walls he places around himself. )

Ah-Xu.

( Soft, soft, his gaze flitting across the other man's face with frantic energy. )

Were you always this sweet?

[ His hand pauses, and then he goes back to petting Wen Kexing's hair, guilt twisting through his gut. he thinks, now, often, that they could have avoided so much pain if they just spoke to each other more. ]

Lao Wen, I...

[ He stops, then, and then tries for a small smile. ]

You need higher standards.

No, impossible.

( He likes that, he thinks, swaying a little closer without meaning to. )

Don't you know I'm very fussy? Only the best. ( Because to him Zhou Zishu is. He's brave, and he's bright, and he can fight like a demon. His brilliance is blinding and impossible to resist. Wen Kexing loves him with an ache, a fact that sits heavy behind his ribs even now, loose limbed and a little wine drunk, still smiling. )

I've changed my mind. I don't want to reincarnate as a bird, I want to be a cat. I could lay in your lap and you could pet me with those clever hands. ( Which sounds like an innuendo but is surprisingly not! ) What a nice little life that would be.

You'd make a decent mouser, I suppose. If you're a cat, though, I think I'd rather be one as well.

[ This conversation is growing rather absurd. The room is dim and warm, and Wen Kexing is a comfortingly heavy weight against him. It loosens his tongue, makes him brave. ]

That's fine, we can huddle for warmth, groom each other, I'll bring you vermin while you sleep.

( It is absurd, but it's also pleasant and meandering, something silly. He never played games of pretend like this as a child and he leans into it fully grown without a care. He hums as he drinks more wine, shifting, and then whiny -. )

Let me put my head in your lap, Ah-Xu, I'm tired.

( Not tired enough to sleep, but enough to be a brat, surely. )

[ He hums in thought, teasing, but then applies a slight pressure to the side of Wen Kexing's head, encouraging him to lay his head down. ]

What if I don't like vermin?

( He drapes himself easily across the bed, head resting against Zhou Zishu's thigh. It's nice, he can't help but nuzzle his cheek into him, heart pounding away behind his ribs. It feels wildly daring the same way it feels right, Wen Kexing drumming his fingers against Zhou Zishu's shin lightly. )

Fine, I'll be a street cat and steal a whole chicken from the butchers for you. Is that better?

Much. I deserve to be kept in luxury.

[ He's teasing, obviously. Of the two of them Wen Kexing is the one who cares more about the luxuries of life--unsurprising, when he spent so long without. Zhou Zishu has had the privilege of, for most of his life, having things at his fingertips if and when he needed it. ]

I'll make sure to be a good feline spouse then, attentive. Only the finest for Ah-Xu.

( Because no matter which form they take, Wen Kexing wants to be good for him, provide the things he might need, care and look after him. It's a sweet dream, one that has kept him buoyed the last few months. )

Though if some well to do housemistress sees you and tries to take you home I won't be happy,

I won't be kept by anyone I don't want to be kept by.

[ He made that abundantly clear the day he neatly severed his relationship with his once-beloved cousin. ]

So it's up to you to treat me well, Lao Wen.

( He rubs his cheek against Zhou Zishu's thigh just for something to do, fingers curling over the fabric at his knee. )

Ah-Xu, don't doubt me. You'll be the most spoiled thing, I'll make sure of it. ( He says, like he's not the one laying in a lap getting petted. Voice a lazy murmur. ) How are you feeling today?

Well. Don't coddle me, I'm doing perfectly fine.

[ He could be better, but there's no need to worry Wen Kexing with that. He continues petting Wen Kexing's hair, finding it soothing and relaxing. ]

Aren't you practically my bride?

( Still mumbled, Wen Kexing currently trying to see how much of Zhou Zishu's thigh he can wrap his wide hand around. )

So your business is my business, it's not coddling. I can be attentive if I want to be. ( And if he's living out every single housewife fantasy he's ever had in his head currently that's fine. Teasing, he sighs. ) Though I definitely thought I'd be the wife here. The next place we go you're going to have to put the work in Ah-Xu, I'm not meant for all of this.

[ He snorts, rolling his eyes. He's certainly not the bride here, for all his teasing earlier. Wen Kexing took charge of the kitchen and of his purse the moment they stepped foot into Siji, made sure things were clean and fixed, and did everything his Master's wife did for the sect when Zhou Zishu was a child. ]

I'll keep you in luxury. [ He promises quietly, though he doesn't know how he'll manage to keep it. Everything he has left--has been burned to the ground. Perhaps it'll be different here, though. ] What do you mean, the next place we go?

( His rolls onto his back, still with his head in Zhou Zishu's lap so he can peer up at him. It's a little funny, and he's very drunk, but the curve of the other man's neck is appealing and it takes him a second to remember the question. )

Oh, this isn't the first place people have been to? They get ferried about all sorts of directions. It's not even my first place. I came to in a house that didn't belong to Ephes, and then there was the jungle, and now here. Xichen has been to so many more. Although maybe I'd take fighting hoards of undead over a political hellhole. ( Off on a tangent, maybe. ) I think it's to do with the beacons they want us looking for.

What beacons?

[ He looks down at Wen Kexing, smoothing a loose strand of hair out of Wen Kexing's face. And then he continues, thoughtful. ]

I think I agree with you. I've had much enough of political intrigue; I killed myself to avoid it, after all.

[ A wry smile, to make his teasing clear. Wen Kezing is drunk enough that he shouldn't mind it too much. ]

It's how they move us. Beacons.

( He doesn't get it, and there's only so much intel he can send Jacob to gather and so it remains a mystery. Instead he's far too invested in playing with the fabric at Zhou Zishu's belt, slipping his fingers inside where it's warm. That is, until the next comment, and he has to pause to frown. )

Don't worry, Ah-Xu. I'll do all the politics this time.

( Sometimes he wonders just what would have happened if he'd chosen to stay with Qin Huaizhang and Four Seasons. Would they have both fallen into the same traps? Maybe. Maybe not. He might have been too soft to save Zhou Zishu from himself even then. It still keeps him up at night, the what ifs. )

You don't have to do anything you don't want. I won't let anyone make you.

[ If he had stayed, Wen Kexing would have died like everyone else had. Or he'd have been angry enough at Zishu to leave, the way Jiuxiao did--and then died. Like Jiuxiao. He was so stupid, Zhou Zishu. He might have done what he thought was best, once, but he'd killed his sect for it. At least, now, Wen Kexing is warm and soft, and so very alive. ]

Of course you won't.

[ Though he can't protect Zishu from himself. Zhou Zishu really should talk to a few more people. Lan Xichen had mentioned his brother, and his brother's husband... Them, perhaps. ]

( He entertains himself by looking at Zhou Zishu from his position of sprawled indolence. It should be uncomfortable but Wen Kexing has never felt better, a silly little smile flickering across his mouth, easy sated breath filling his lungs. He hums, tuneless, tugs once more on the belt like a child demanding attention. )

I think this new life suits you better.

( What does he know, beyond what he can guess? But he feels it anyway. )

I think it suits us both. When we get back, we'll see my girl wed and you cured and then we'll dedicate ourselves to the rest of it. Wandering, wine, each other. ( His vengeance still ticks away in the back of his mind most days, but Zhou Zishu has told him it will be achieved and well, Wen Kexing has had time to think. Maybe his priorities are shifting. ) Poor Chengling will get sick of us.

We'll leave Chengling on his own occasionally. It'll help him grow. Or, perhaps, we'll send him to Nanjiang for a year. Beiyuan has a son a bit younger than him.

[ It's soft and quiet, wistful, a life he wishes he could have. ]

We can drink the local specialties in each town we stop at.

Tell me more about this Beiyuan.

( He's drunk enough that the jealousy is low lying, dampened under the booze. It still rests, and he fumbles for the wine, drinking it where he lays, a little tricking from the corner of his mouth. When Kexing wipes it away idly, a noise in the back of his throat. He's curious mostly, there's a whole part of Zhou Zishu he doesn't know. Friends, enemies, lovers.

He wants to crack him open like a walnut, examine the soft flesh inside. )

What's he like?

Clever. Beautiful. One of the most incredible people I know.

[ He says it frankly, without emotion beyond genuine warmth. ]

Oh.

( There's the jealousy. It rises like an acid wave in Wen Kexing's stomach, sour and unpleasant and so very familiar. The intensity shouldn't surprise him. It does though. A frown ticks between his eyebrows, and he takes another deeper drink. )

Why haven't I heard of him before if he's that special?

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