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They always went straight to the bedroom in the Palace of Qi Ying after returning from a mission together.
“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen said as he removed Yin Yu’s mask and set it on a side table, “can we take a trip together?” He gently smoothed his hair. “A long one?”
Yin Yu smiled at the way Quan Yizhen always requested, never demanded. “I’d like that,” he said, using some spiritual power to remove a spot of monster blood they had missed on Quan Yizhen’s collar.
“Would Crimson Rain let you go?” he asked as he took Yin Yu’s cloak and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.
“I’m sure he would,” Yin Yu replied, unstrapping Quan Yizhen’s armor and setting it on its stand in the corner. “I’ll just make sure anything important has been attended to first.”
Quan Yizhen had followed right behind him. “Shixiong works too much,” he muttered, running a thumb along Yin Yu’s lapel.
He never could resist that pout. “I do what has to be done,” he said gently. “Yizhen,” he continued, deftly changing the subject, “doesn’t it seem a little strange for you to still be calling me ‘shixiong?’”
Quan Yizhen’s eyes shot up. “Does Sh— do you not like me calling you that?”
The plaintive tone squeezed Yin Yu’s heart. “No, it’s not that. I love the way that word sounds when you say it to me. But I think…” He touched Quan Yizhen’s face, ran a thumb along his cheekbone. “…maybe it’s a little silly considering that…” His heart had started pounding and then he felt it flutter. “…I’m your husband now.”
As though delighted by the news, Quan Yizhen smiled brightly. “And I’m yours,” he declared.
His cheeks burned red as a wedding candle. All he could manage to do was nod in response.
Meanwhile Quan Yizhen had grown quiet and thoughtful, brow lowered in concentration. “…Yin-lang?” he suggested hesitantly, resting his hands on Yin Yu’s waist.
“No, not that,” he replied with a soft laugh, despite the little thrill that ran up his back. He heard ‘San Lang’ far too often for that to feel right.
Without another word, Quan Yizhen gathered Yin Yu close. Yin Yu returned the embrace, felt Quan Yizhen inhale as though to speak. He waited, listening. “Well?” He smiled. “Don’t leave me in suspen—”
“…A-Yu…?” came the shy whisper close to his ear.
Suddenly everything went white.
“-xiong?” he heard through the soft buzzing in his ears. “Shixiong, are you okay?” Quan Yizhen was gripping his arms tightly. “I think you blacked out for a second…!”
“Yizhen,” Yin Yu said faintly, grabbing hold of his shoulders as the feeling returned to his fingertips, “I don’t think you can call me that…”
Quan Yizhen offered him a tight smile. “Yeah,” he agreed with a nod, “it feels pretty strange.”
The problem was he liked it far too much.
He tried to stand firm as Quan Yizhen gazed at him intently. “Shixiong,” he whispered finally, in a way that made the word their own, and Yin Yu couldn’t help but throw his arms around his neck, squeeze him tight. “Husband,” Quan Yizhen said then, in a tone so sweet it was almost mischievous and made Yin Yu’s whole body tremble, “please ask Crimson Rain for the next six months off?”