Actions

Work Header

Deep Waters Closing Over Our Heads

Summary:

"...And you don't want that."

Shen Wei shuddered. "No."

Notes:

  • Translation into Русский available: A work in an unrevealed collection

Cards on the table -- if this isn't the most idtastic thing I've ever written, it's definitely somewhere high on that list.

Caveats: Alien physiology h/c; not A/B/O, no smut.

Thanks to Boni and Galaxysoup for the beta and Naye for the everything.

And yes, the working title was "A Pon Too Farr" :P

Chapter Text

As far as Zhao Yunlan could tell, Shen Wei only kept renting his apartment to have a library. There wasn't enough room in Zhao Yunlan's own place for all of a professor's bookshelves—in particular a professor who eschewed any kind of digital texts. Zhao Yunlan had plans to rectify that situation, but until Dixing-Haixing relations calmed down a bit he wouldn't have time to enact them.

In the meantime, Shen Wei had his library. Which he didn't have much occasion to use now anyway, on sabbatical as he was—if the chief of the SID was busy now, Dixing's Envoy was booked solid.

Which was why Zhao Yunlan was surprised to arrive home that evening and see a light on in Shen Wei's place. He ducked into his own apartment only long enough to check that Shen Wei wasn't there—though he'd left dinner on the stove, braised beef and something with broccoli—and then went across the hall. He knocked twice, then let himself in, calling out, "Hey, Shen Wei, it's me."

Shen Wei wasn't at his desk, though the desk lamp was on and there were a couple books open on the desktop, along with a notebook. Shen Wei did deign to use pens sometimes, at least—fancy felt-tip ones, and his handwriting even when making reference notes and mathematical notation was damn close to calligraphic. Though glancing at the notebook, Zhao Yunlan noticed the page was blacker than normal, lines crossed out, and he tilted his head, trying to read upside down.

"Zhao Yunlan?"

He started, then almost laughed at himself—it wasn't like he was sneaking around here uninvited; Shen Wei had given him the key a while ago, even if he rarely had reason to use it. "Shen Wei, there you are," Zhao Yunlan said, turning, "why don't you come over for..."

He stopped. Shen Wei was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He must have just come out of the shower; his hair was damp, draped in a fringe over his forehead, and his cheeks were a shade rosier than his usual pale.

He was barefoot and wearing a black bathrobe, loosely tied around his hips but hanging open enough to expose a long v of his chest, creamy under the black—was that silk? It had a silky sheen, anyway. Zhao Yunlan had never seen it before, which was a crying shame.

Shen Wei was looking at him, forehead wrinkled in a mildly puzzled frown. "I thought you had the late shift tonight," he said.

"Switched with Xiao Guo," Zhao Yunlan said. "He has a family obligation tomorrow. I thought you were still in Dixing or I'd have been back even sooner."

"Dixing," Shen Wei repeated, sort of blankly, and then with more focus, "Ah—no, I came back earlier. Today."

"Negotiations went better than expected?" They'd been trying to hammer out more formal trade deals, and some of the Haixing officials were prone to assuming Dixing was negotiating from a lower position figuratively as well as physically. "You used your Hei Pao Shi voice on them, didn't you—I told you to start doing that more!"

Shen Wei was just blinking at Zhao Yunlan, though. If it weren't for the wet hair Zhao Yunlan would've thought he'd woken him up from a rare nap. Finally Shen Wei shook his head. "No," he said, "not better, but. They're on hold, temporarily."

"Ah, okay," Zhao Yunlan said, and smirked. "Their loss, my gain. Come over and have dinner?"

"No—no, thank you," Shen Wei said. "I already ate."

Zhao Yunlan shrugged. "So did I, on the way back, but I saw what you made, don't want to let that go to waste."

"I hope it's acceptable," Shen Wei said. "I made you enough for two nights."

Zhao Yunlan sighed. "You're going back to Dixing tomorrow?"

"No—ah, that is to say, maybe. Yes. Yes, probably." Shen Wei brought up his hand, pushed his damp hair up off his forehead. "Yes, I'll probably be absent for the next few days. I'm sorry, Zhao Yunlan."

"Yeah, me too," Zhao Yunlan said. He shifted his weight, taking a step towards Shen Wei, still in the bedroom doorway. "So what are you working on now?"

"Working on?" Shen Wei's gaze jumped past him, to the desk.

"The negotiations," Zhao Yunlan said easily, ambling another step nearer. "If you have to get back to them tomorrow, they must be time-sensitive?"

"Oh—yes," Shen Wei agreed. "Yes, they're important. A time-sensitive matter." He was looking back at Zhao Yunlan—staring, really; a fixed look, but oddly unfocused. Like he actually needed the glasses he wore for show.

Zhao Yunlan took another step, and then Shen Wei did too, into the living room. The bedroom door closed behind him, clapping shut like it was wired—or had been nudged by dark energy, maybe.

"I—I'm very sorry, Zhao Yunlan," Shen Wei said, "but I have some research to complete, so—"

"Uh-huh," Zhao Yunlan said. When Shen Wei attempted to sidle past, he reached out, caught Shen Wei's wrist. "What's wrong?"

Shen Wei flushed. "Nothing," he said. "There's—nothing."

Zhao Yunlan studied his face, the color blooming across his cheeks. His lips seemed redder for it. "So then what's this work you have to do?"

"I—it's—" Shen Wei's gaze shifted past his, looking over Zhao Yunlan's shoulder to the desk behind him. "It involves the epigenetic mechanisms of cellular differentiation—"

"That's the title of one of the books on your desk," Zhao Yunlan observed. "Also you're on sabbatical until at least the end of the semester, so you've got a couple months yet to publish before you perish." This close, he could see Shen Wei's breathing—a little too fast, a little too shallow. There was a faint glistening of moisture dotting his brow, from his damp hair. "Shen Wei, please. Talk to me. If something's going on back in Dixing—"

"There isn't," Shen Wei said. "I swear to you—to you as Guardian, there isn't anything wrong."

"And what about to me as Zhao Yunlan?" Zhao Yunlan said. "What's up?" He was still holding onto Shen Wei's wrist—tight, maybe tight enough to bruise a regular human, but Shen Wei didn't notice. He resisted at first when Zhao Yunlan started to lift his wrist, then sighed and allowed it.

Zhao Yunlan pushed back the bathrobe's sleeve—it was silk after all, suede-soft to the touch—and turned Shen Wei's wrist toward the light. His stomach was knotted—if there was a cut, dark energy leaking out like smoke—but there wasn't any open wound. Just a faint pink line encircling the wrist, beneath the manacle of his own fingers.

"Shen Wei?" Zhao Yunlan said, looking up from his wrist to Shen Wei's face—in time to see Shen Wei's eyes close, lashes fluttering like dark moths against the hectic spots of color staining his cheeks.

Shen Wei opened his eyes—forced them open to meet Zhao Yunlan's, and caught his breath around a shallow pant. His eyes were even darker than usual, bottomless black. "It's—it's nothing," he said hoarsely. "You should—go—"

"Like hell," Zhao Yunlan said. Still holding Shen Wei's wrist, he put the back of his other hand to Shen Wei's forehead, to those flushed cheeks. Rather than being cool to the touch, his skin was feverishly hot. "Are you sick—you're sick. Do you know what you have? Are you afraid I'm going to catch it or something?"

"No—it's not an infection," Shen Wei said. "I only need rest; it will pass in a—in a few days."

"A few days," Zhao Yunlan repeated, and then put it all together. "Oh—this is your, uhh—" What had been the polite euphemism? "—your flowering."

Shen Wei blinked at him, startled. "You know of...?"

"Met enough Dixingren before, back in time," Zhao Yunlan said, tilting his head in a vague indication of ten thousand years. He'd been back there long enough, and the troops' quartering had been close enough, that it had been hard to miss. It wasn't that big a deal—once or twice a year, for most of the Dixingren, that they'd go off somewhere private for a day or two. They hadn't been any more than a little self-conscious to explain it to General Kunlun, when he asked. Part of the alliance's spirit of cooperation, to share their differences with each other.

In retrospect it had explained those occasional times that Lao Chu had gotten especially grouchy and then played hooky. Zhao Yunlan had given him a few extra days off upon getting back, to make it up to him.

Shen Wei, though, had never gone through one, not that Zhao Yunlan had noticed. Not back in the past, and not in the time they'd known each other in the present. This color in his face, those heavy-lidded eyes—Zhao Yunlan would've noticed.

"I thought you were immune or something," Zhao Yunlan said. The Dixing soldiers had told him that like their powers, a few Dixingren never developed a regular cycle.

But Shen Wei shook his head. "Not immune—but I couldn't usually afford it. Before, during the war, when we could be attacked at any time—and then, in these times, once the SID was established—should the SID call upon the Black-Cloaked Envoy, I must be able to come without delay or...distractions."

"So you, what—just ignored it?"

"There are ways to suppress it," Shen Wei said, then paused, amended, "or at least, to postpone it."

"But not now?"

"I'd thought...I miscalculated," Shen Wei said, at once weary and ashamed.

"So you can't put it off now?" Zhao Yunlan considered. "Could be worse timing—I mean, the negotiations, but they've been going on for months now, you can afford to miss a couple days. And there's nothing immediately world-threatening here. Plus it's almost the weekend, so if I just call in sick tomorrow—"

"That isn't necessary," Shen Wei said.

"Well, it's too late to put in for a vacation day. Maybe next time if you could give me a heads-up, I can schedule it in."

"You can go to work," Shen Wei said. "You shouldn't—there's no need for you to be here, Zhao Yunlan. For this time, seclusion is customary—"

"—Secluding with someone," Zhao Yunlan said. "I know it's a private thing for Dixingren, but that's usual, too, isn't it, to spend it with your partner?"

"...Under ordinary circumstances," Shen Wei admitted, reluctantly. "But this..."

"What's the problem?" When Shen Wei looked like he might try to duck out of the question, Zhao Yunlan reached out, cupped his cheek in his hand. Shen Wei's skin was warm enough to be hot and he tilted his head into the touch, just slightly, exhaling softly through parted lips as if he found Zhao Yunlan's cooler hand relieving.

Then he inhaled, stiffened his back to ramrod straighten. "You're Haixingren."

"Yeah, so?" Zhao Yunlan let his hand slide down Shen Wei's neck, to the gaping collar of the bathrobe.

"For—for one, reciprocation wouldn't even be possible," Shen Wei said.

Zhao Yunlan snorted. "Yeah, like I have any chance of doing for you most of what you do for me. Putting aside the dark energy tricks—you just made me two days of dinner."

"How..." Shen Wei blinked at Zhao Yunlan, gaze dropping to his mouth as he leaned closer, before he pulled it back up to Zhao Yunlan's eyes. "How is that relevant?"

Zhao Yunlan grinned at him. Took Shen Wei's hands—they were warm, too, not their usual soothing cool—and put them on his hips. "So maybe I want to pay you back for the meals with my body?"

For a moment Shen Wei swayed into him, his eyelashes sweeping closed, and Zhao Yunlan turned his head a little for the kiss—

Then Shen Wei yanked back his hands, stumbled back a step. "No," he said, giving his head a hard shake. "No, you don't—you're Haixingren; you don't understand, Zhao Yunlan."

"I think I got the gist," Zhao Yunlan said, leaning in. "And you can...fill me in on the rest?"

"No," Shen Wei said—not teasing, and not the sharp command of the Black-Cloaked Envoy either. Low-voiced and rough—hurting, as Zhao Yunlan had only rarely heard him pushed to.

Shen Wei's cheeks were still flushed, but the heat in Zhao Yunlan went out like he'd been plunged into an ice bath. He rocked back a step to put more space between them, raised his hands, open with palms out. "Okay," he said quietly. "Okay, then can you tell me?"

Shen Wei took a visibly deep breath, let it out slowly as he pulled his bathrobe closer around him. His voice was calmer when he spoke, and he kept his eyes steady on Zhao Yunlan's. "It's a matter of biology. To submit—to attempt to satisfy the urges, doesn't alleviate them, but rather increases and strengthens the dark energy spike—prolonging the episode."

"So having sex makes the whole heat—uh—flowering—last for longer?"

"By two or three times, or more."

"...And you don't want that."

Shen Wei shuddered. "No."

Zhao Yunlan tucked his hands safely in his pockets, studied Shen Wei's face without getting closer to him. "Is it...it's not really that bad a thing, is it? Like, the timing's annoying. But from what I heard—it's frustrating, mostly?" From how the Dixingren soldiers had talked, it sounded like the worst of puberty crammed into a single day. Potentially embarrassing out in public and a distraction for sure, but annoying, not catastrophic.

But the set of Shen Wei's jaw now—that was something he'd rarely seen in Shen Wei. If not outright fear, then dread, at least. "It's...uncomfortable, under the best circumstances," Shen Wei said. "Now, though, after it's been suppressed for this long..."

"This time's going to be worse?" Shen Wei nodded, a single curt dip of his head, and Zhao Yunlan considered. "Everything built up when you were damming it back?"

"Essentially, yes."

"How bad is it going to be?" Zhao Yunlan asked. "How long were you suppressing it for, anyway?"

Shen Wei hesitated. Finally allowed, "Perhaps more times than is advisable."

Considering most Dixingrens' cycles were only annual or semi-annual anyway—and given that the Black-Cloaked Envoy had been on call with the SID, and the Haixing bureau before that, since pretty much right after Shen Wei woke up in modern times... Zhao Yunlan exhaled through his teeth. "Okay, so what are we in for?"

When Shen Wei didn't answer, he pressed, "Shen Wei, talk to me—is it dangerous? If you're pushing your body too far—Dixing must have some experts in this, right? Or the Yashou—should we be looking to get a healer?"

"There's no need." Shen Wei shook his head.

But his composure was fragile, defensive. And that resignation—Zhao Yunlan had seen it before. "I get this is a private thing, but if this is going to hurt you—if you kept this from me because you're, you're dying again, or some shit—then I swear, I'm gonna—"

"No!" Shen Wei said, alarmed enough to take a step nearer. "No, Zhao Yunlan, I promise you, my life's in no jeopardy."

"No?"

"I wouldn't, not again—I would have come to you, I would've chosen to see you, if... But no. This will be...physically stressful, but not harmful to me."

"Well. Good," Zhao Yunlan said. His eyes were unexpectedly burning; he swiped the back of his hand across them, went on, "So what's it going to be like? And what can I do, other than the, uhh, obvious, if that's out?"

Shen Wei didn't change clothes, didn't summon a wisp of dark energy—but Zhao Yunlan saw him put on a mask all the same, in how he straightened up, in how he relaxed his face, brow smoothing, the tense line of his mouth softening to the gentle smile he usually had when they were alone together. "Zhao Yunlan, truly, this is nothing that I need assistance with. It won't be more than a few days—three, four at most. Less time than I've been away in Dixing, in these past months."

Two days was already long, Zhao Yunlan knew—a flowering was usually under thirty hours, for most Dixingren.

And Shen Wei's voice was even, calm; but his hand at his side was curled into a fist, just visible under the hanging sleeve of his bathrobe, and pressed tight against his thigh.

"Shen Wei," Zhao Yunlan said, and the way Shen Wei's attention riveted on him, the slight bow of his body towards Zhao Yunlan—it was almost as usual, but not quite; at once appealing and unsettling. Zhao Yunlan cleared his throat, said, "If my being here makes this harder—if it's going to be better for you to go it alone, if you really don't want me here, then I'll leave. I'll clear out now and keep my distance until it's all over."

"It..." Shen Wei swallowed. "It would be—you have your duties as Guardian, and this is hardly among them."

"Not what I asked," Zhao Yunlan said gently.

"This was my own mistake, not dealing with it sooner; it's my responsibility."

"Sure," Zhao Yunlan agreed, and waited.

"It will be unpleasant," Shen Wei said, so softly miserable that Zhao Yunlan nearly laughed.

"Yeah," he said, "I was getting that impression. But will it be more unpleasant for you with company?"

"...No," Shen Wei admitted. "That would...it would not be."

"Great," Zhao Yunlan said. "Then I'm staying."