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English
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Published:
2020-11-29
Completed:
2021-07-07
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3,830
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4/4
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Sleuth Amuse-bouches

Chapter 3: Serious drunk Sui Zhou aggressively nurturing Tang Fan for Charlie

Chapter Text

With Dong’er visiting Duo’erla, and Sui Zhou at an official dinner, it’s a rare evening that Tang Fan gets to himself. Not that he often enjoys being alone, having become accustomed to quite the opposite. But, well. It means he can get some writing done. Of which there have been far too few opportunities since he moved in with Sui Zhou.

As the sun sets he lights candles around his room, standing them in crowded pillars around his desk. The heat of them helps to keep him warm as well, a blanket shrugged loosely around his shoulders.

He’s not sure how long he’s been writing when he hears the gate crash open. He starts, jerking his head up and looking around. The candles are much shorter now. Tang Fan holds his breath, listening. There are the sound of footsteps on the courtyard paving stones.

“Guangchuan?” He lays his brush down carefully. It isn’t like Sui Zhou to make such an entrance. Abruptly, he feels very keenly the fact that he is alone in an otherwise empty house.

The door jerks open. It is Sui Zhou, his head peering through the door. His expression is very serious. More serious than usual. Yet he sways a little. Tang Fan feels his eyebrows lift. “Welcome home,” Tang Fan says drily when Sui Zhou offers no greeting of his own.

“Have you eaten?” Sui Zhou grunts.

Tang Fan blinks, reflecting on the last few—several?—hours. He shakes his head.

Sui Zhou huffs out a vexed sigh and disappears from Tang Fan’s doorway again. Tang Fan hears him walk through the house in the direction of the kitchen. It is extremely unlike Sui Zhou to be so noisy. Tang Fan shakes his head again, smiling a little, and picks up his brush. Hungry or not, the intoxicating headspace of writing without the sense of time passing is still reaching out for him, and he dives back into it.

He’s just finished the scene with a flourish of his brush when Sui Zhou enters his room again. Or barges in, more like—relative to how Sui Zhou normally moves, with a muted sort of grace. This time he crosses the room to Tang Fan’s desk without saying anything. Tang Fan barely has time to put down his brush before Sui Zhou is leaning over and lurching forward and—

“Guangchuan—!” Tang Fan cries in outrage as Sui Zhou braces the top of his shoulder against Tang Fan’s belly and hauls him up with barely a pause. Tang Fan grabs at the back of his robes and yelps, suddenly upside-down. “What are you—!?”

Sui Zhou doesn’t answer, just carries Tang Fan out of the room over his shoulder. Tang Fan’s instinct is to kick and struggle, but he can see the paving stones below him, and wants to hit his head on them even less than he wants Sui Zhou to carry him. It doesn’t stop him complaining, though. “Sui Zhou, you brute! What are you doing? Let me down, I can walk!”

Sui Zhou lets him down in the dining room, placing him directly onto a stool. The table is covered with steaming plates of food. Tang Fan’s stomach growls loudly.

Sui Zhou sits down next to him, and starts immediately piling up Tang Fan’s bowl with a selection from each dish. “Eat.”

Well. He is hungry. “Guangchuan,” Tang Fan says as he starts to stuff each perfectly cooked morsel into his mouth, narrowing his eyes at Sui Zhou. “Are you drunk?”

Sui Zhou finishes loading up Tang Fan’s plate and starts on his own. He doesn’t look up to meet Tang Fan’s eyes.

Tang Fan snorts. “The esteemed Sui-baihu, too deep in his cups to even speak,” he comments, giggling.

Sui Zhou pours him tea, and finally looks at him with a scowl. “Drink.”

Tang Fan obeys with a flourish. “You should get drunk more often, Sui Zhou. I could enjoy a midnight snack every night.”

Sui Zhou gives him a piercing look. Tang Fan just shoves more tofu into his mouth.

Sui Zhou starts clearing the plates away when Tang Fan finally leans back with a sigh of satisfaction, placing his chopsticks down. It is very late, Tang Fan realises as he looks out the open door at the scatter of stars above, listening to Sui Zhou clatter around the kitchen.

He strolls out into the cool night air, picking the neat braid at the back of his head—he should really have taken it out and combed his hair when he got home from work, instead of leaving it in all evening. He wanders into his room, holding his hair out of the way to blow the candles out around his desk, then starts getting ready for bed.

He’s in his nightclothes and sitting on the edge of his bed, yawning, when Sui Zhou appears again. The same intensity is still darkening his features, though there is water splashed up the front of his house robes. Tang Fan feels himself soften with fondness. He watches as Sui Zhou takes in the scene, and holds the comb out to him.

Sui Zhou sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, staring at the comb, then steps forward to take it carefully. Tang Fan pats the bed beside him, then turns around.

Sui Zhou runs the comb through his hair slowly, reverently. Tang Fan sighs, his shoulders softening as he relaxes. “Why don’t you ever get drunk at home, Guangchuan?” he asks idly.

Sui Zhou pauses. Then his fingers comb through Tang Fan’s hair, brushing lightly down his back. Tang Fan shivers. At the movement, Sui Zhou abruptly puts the comb down and starts pulling at Tang Fan’s bedclothes instead. Sui Zhou is usually sparing with his words, but this sudden abundance of action in their place makes Tang Fan want to curl up into a ball around his feelings of delight and laugh helplessly.

Finally Tang Fan is lying down under the covers, Sui Zhou still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at him. There has been something developing between them for months now, and Sui Zhou’s blunt manhandling has only made Tang Fan more certain of its trajectory. Still, he won’t take advantage of Sui Zhou while he’s drunk. For Sui Zhou’s dignity, more than his own. Sui Zhou’s frequent acts of generosity, of care, are usually delivered with such calmness and reserve. Tang Fan’s heart softens to see the naked yearning in Sui Zhou’s eyes. “Tuck me in?” He suggests softly, laying his hand on Sui Zhou’s where it rests on the bed.

Sui Zhou takes him up on the offer as though it’s his solemn duty, running his hands over the coverlet to smooth it over Tang Fan’s chest more times than necessary. Tang Fan longs to pull him into his arms, stroke his foolish head.

“Guangchuan,” he says at length, when Sui Zhou is just staring at his hands resting on Tang Fan’s chest. “Go to bed. I will see you in the morning.”

Sui Zhou looks up to meet his eyes. His expression has softened at last. He gives a brief nod, blowing the last candle out as he leaves. Tang Fan sighs, smiling to himself as he stares into the darkness before falling asleep.