potosi | ya no quiero que llores

ya no quiero que llores

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ACTIVE MUSES.

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[ i thought about youkai coffeeshop au but decided i wanted something less thinky-thoughts, so morning after it is

Natsume wonders if he'll ever get used to waking up with someone else. It isn't like it happens that often, but it's been happening more often, and he blames the weather. It's just cold, so heading inside with Subaru to get warmed up for a bit is common sense. If it gets too late, then it's just natural he'd stay over. Subaru's a living space heater, so of course they'd have to strip down.

Subaru's fond of physicality - getting a little too touchy, a little too wound up, it just happens.

So waking up with him because it's cold, because he comes in, because he stays the night, because they share a bed, ah, well. It can't be helped, and Natsume traces the marks they've left on one another (easy to hide under clothes, naturally), connecting them as if they're constellations.

He rarely ever gets caught, but it's probably about time that he does, looking actually content for reasons that aren't linked to being an idol or something shady. The second Subaru starts stirring, Natsume closes his eyes and pretends to still be asleep. Poorly, because he never usually has to do this and he remembers, too late, that sleeping people still breathe, and it comes out in a sharp breath instead of the relaxed, easy one that it should be.

don't doxx him xoxoxo ]

[ it's been a long time since anyone's been able to lay a finger on mobei-jun, let alone wound him. but the southern swarms are annoying for a reason, which is the only reason he's been left with so many scars across his entire left side - his arm, his chest, the side of his cheek. he looks more like he's been dragged down a mountain, and worse yet, he's feverish. it's the worst part about the southern swarms - they always leave burns from their high velocity, flame based movements, and while mobei-jun would've loved to force someone else to take this, frankly none of the other demons fighting in luo binghe's court would have been able to handle it - save lord luo himself.

he hates being feverish. he'd rather be poisoned. at least that sort of discomfort doesn't leave him sweaty.

it takes an embarrassing amount of effort then to open a portal back to his castle, stumbling through it until he can grab onto a wall. he's not entirely sure what room in the castle he's ended up in, but he knows he's in the northern-most wing - the rooms that he and shang qinghua live in, where no servant would dare to spend time in past required duties. it reduces the chances for having to kill someone.

if he succeeded in getting back to his own chambers he'd feel cooler, but when he looks around he sees he is very clearly in shang qinghua's instead. no wonder he doesn't feel any better - he's got the fireplace going while he works on his writing. go figure. ]

[ there are many reasons that shang qinghua doesn't accompany mobei jun on all of his various diplomacy ("diplomacy", if you can call it that, when it comes to demons) missions. the first reason is that despite being an immortal cultivator like everyone else in cang qiong, shang qinghua is not what you would call an extremely good fighter. in fact, he's what you'd call "cannon fodder" or "particularly squishy and vulnerable". he knows this because he, airplane shooting towards the sky, called himself that before he was himself. therefore, if he went along, he'd probably be toast and or a distraction, in which maybe they'd both be toast and that would just be unacceptable. the second reason is that shang qinghua, personally, doesn't even like being in battle! see reason number one.

thirdly, shang qinghua has his own duties to attend to. since things have... happened (and boy, they have happened. you would thing shang qinghua would be the one with the insight as to Things That Would Happen, but no, he could not have predicted a single thing that happened regarding His Royal Beautiful Pain in the (literal?) Ass Mobei Jun the most Perfect Man Alive, hindsight was twenty twenty.) no, his duties back in the northern kingdoms require him to organize everything and anything he can get his grubby hands on. it's a travesty how badly this place is run. haven't demons ever heard of bureaucracy? of filing systems??? of streamlining literally anything?

...he's become fairly good at this job since becoming shang qinghua, and while mobei-jun is away, he's got a stack of paperwork as tall as he is to work through from his desk. it's distracting enough from everything else going on, even if demonic handwriting makes his shitty handwriting look like calligraphy. sitting with his bad leg propped up on a pillow at his desk, he's muttering to himself as he scratches out notes in the margins of something or other, chewing on the edge of a brush. so absorbed in his work, he doesn't even seem to notice that his king has returned from his battle....

its probably a good thing mobei-jun's not out to kill him or anything cause he'd be super dead ]

[ the fact that shang qinghua does not notice a portal being ripped open in his rooms and a demon king walking out is frankly, highly unsettling. even if qinghua knows it's him, even if their rooms are covered in wards to keep out intruders,and even if no one else in this castle would come here unannounced, it still makes mobei-jun frown. he really wonders what sort of weak, idiotic people come from cang qiong that shang qinghua, so engrossed in his work to notice the potential of threats appearing around him at any time, could make it to peak lord status. such a thing would never fly in the demon world - one must always be ready for someone to take their head in an attempt for more power, more clout.

he wonders if he should set up another ward against anyone else with teleportation, just in case, especially as shang qinghua's injury is still healing.

with a silent huff, mobei-jun makes his way across the room, heavy footsteps across the icy flooring until he falls on shang qinghua's bed. the sheets can be changed, and will have to be considering that now his blood is getting on it, but it can't be helped. he doesn't feel like walking back to his private chambers, and he's not about to make shang qinghua get up and attend to him with a broken leg. he also knows there's medical salve in the nightstand, because mobei-jun was the one who put it there, to help assist qinghua to heal his leg or to dull the pain if it ever became too much. he just needs to borrow it for now, and more can be acquired later.

first things first though - he rips the top of his robe open, exposing the wounds so he can put the salve on it, and also so he can get a little bit of relief from this damn heat. ]

[ there. there! okay. god, he just needed to get one more stupid column organized in this stupid ancient chinese written spreadsheet. god, he misses his computer.

sitting back, shang qinghua lifts his arms over his head, almost leisurely stretching. he scoots back in his chair with his good leg, wondering briefly the merits of a nap, when he turns around and -- ]

My king?! [ --nearly fucking has a heart attack!!!!!! in a stunning display of stupidity, shang qinghua trips out of shock, grabs his robe near his chest and sends his papers flying, nearly taking himself and his busted ass leg out from the strength of his startled prey animal act. ] What are-- [ oh??? oh, he's bleeding oh oh he's bleeding!!!! to his credit, this mental shift from "why are you like this (i wrote it that way)" to "good attendant, actually" takes about ten seconds, and he's up and hobbling over to the side of the bed with the makeshift crutch of his sword, lying in its scabbard by his desk.

he's got about a million questions to ask with several emotions attached (concern, stress, a little bit of annoyance even), but as shang qinghua makes his way over and drops the sword-crutch to the ground, lifting his bad leg to rest against the side of the bed and avoid the weight, one sums them up: ] What happened?!

[ the last time he saw mobei-jun beat up was...well, he doesn't need to think about that right now, but the point is that it was someone strong. his hands hover over him briefly, like he's trying to settle on what to do first. despite his spazzy nature, shang qinghua is competent, and lately, has been closer to on the same wavelength as his demon lord, and he goes for the nightstand for the healing salve for his leg, immediately popping the top off of it while he awaits his answer, mind rifling with possibilities. he's no mu qingfang, but demons definitely heal on their own, so... even just this much should be fine... ]

The southern swarms. [ is all mobei-jun says, and all he figures he has to say - shang qinghua knows what his missions are, even if he doesn't accompany him on any of them. plus, he likely knows about the summer swarms, the saw-like edges of their claws and beaks, the way their wings look like fire and could leave a weaker demon burned to a crisp. it always surprises him how much shang qinghua knows about the world so it feels like explaining this too would be more of an insult than helpful. he can respect that.

it does not pass his notice that shang qinghua's sword is reduced to a mere crutch - he would shake his head at it, but at this point mobei-jun is used to the strange way shang qinghua of using powerful weaponry and tools as mere trinkets.

seeing that he has the salve though, mobei-jun shifts so his naked injured side is toward him, tipping forward slightly so qinghua can reach without putting any more pressure on his leg or have to reach. ]

[ ah. the southern swarms! right. one of any number of monsters in his personal bestiary. they're not horribly strong--they're obnoxious, and on fire with plenty of sharp appendages for the maximum shredding-slash-burning-of-clothing--and it clicks in his brain a moment later. duh, shang qinghua--fire.

his hand hovers where he's dipping into the salve as he has this realization. damn, bro, press f... i mean... ] You've gotta be burning up, my king. Uh--I mean, you already were...burning. Today. [ he winces when that comes out of his mouth, then shakes his head, shutting his mouth and trying again. ] The residual effects must be making it difficult to heal.

[ there, that's better. him hovering probably isn't helping any, so he takes the proffered expanse of muscle and skin and applies the salve to each cut up spot he can find. it's gross, actually, but he's finding himself feeling more worried than anything else, chewing the inside of his cheek as he prods around the cuts to make sure it does't sting. ]...My king must have destroyed them all after such a fight, right? Left nothing but ashes? [ right? right? was this worth it? ]

[ he frowns at that, shooting shang qinghua a cold glare. obviously he's burning. obviously the residual effects are making it hard to heal. mobei-jun's robe is mostly off exposing wounds, wounds he'd never show anyone else but the man whose saved his life twice over because he knows he's good for a third, a fourth. that for all of his timid nature and useless rambling, he comes through when it matters most.

the salve does feel good against the wounds, helping his own demon blood ease up on the pain and help speed the healing process along. it's not going to help with the burning, but it's better than nothing. when shang qinghua prods, mobei-jun doesn't flinch, but he does glare again, not wanting to have anything undone because of prying hands. ]

Obviously. [ just because he got hurt doesn't mean he didn't win. besides, with this out of the way, it's likely lord luo will have any reason to call on him for months and he'll be left to working through his own domains for the rest of the winter. ]

Good, good. [ well, there's that. it's not like shang qinghua expected much else, but mobei jun is not as immune to anything and everything as his son is, and he can only imagine how unpleasant it must have been. he flatters easily, praise effusive. ] I couldn't imagine anything else, my King's strength is so impressive.

[ all the while, his hands move gentle across the plane of his chest. it's not unfamiliar territory (like hell it is), and most of the wounds are surface level, so the care of them is coming across easy. once he's tested his limit to prodding at the edges, he stops, and instead focuses on the good responses, dipping into the salve until it's nearly gone. besides, the glare mostly bounces off of him, because mobei jun looks...kinda pathetic, right now? like, in a kingly way. he's has a feeling this might turn out to be a bit of a kingly sulk. poor guy must be sweaty. now he knows how shang qinghua feels when he's freezing, he guesses. ]

I finished up your paperwork from yesterday while you were gone, and attended to a few other matters in the castle. My king will be able to rest and relax in peace for a while, and this one will tend to any other small matters that might spring up. [ the king can rest and relax....in his bed, but he seriously doubts mobei jun will be anywhere near okay with moving anytime soon. bedhog. ]

[ wow, listen, he is very regal and just tired from having to fight? and getting burned?? don't be rude??? mobei-jun didn't go through so much fighting to bring you home to deal with this slander. ]

[ he nods as his eyes slip shut, trusting shang qinghua's clever hands to do their job. ] Mn. [ paperwork is always the worst part of dealing with his kingdom. there's too much smoke and mirrors in the written word, too many innuendos and people trying to step over the lines they have no right crossing because they get bold over distance. it's why mobei-jun left it to servants, and eventually shang qinghua, so hearing it's done is always a bit of a relief. he doesn't have to check on what shang qinghua did either, knowing it's done right.

as soon as shang qinghua is done with the salve, mobei-jun works to off the rest of his outer robe, letting the cool air soak into his skin. later, when it soaks into his skin more, later, when he's feeling a little less worn out from travel, he'll move to his rooms, but right now staying here on this bed with shang qinghua sounds much better.

mobei-jun may not understand why exactly, it does, but it's true and he's not about to go against his gut now. ]

Stay. [ it's not much of an order, but he's moving enough to the side where both of them could actually fit onto the bed without touching which... is ideal when he feels so damn sweaty. ]

[ there's a reason its mental slander and not verbal slander.

as he finishes up, shang qinghua steps to the side to clean off his hands, reaching for the blanket he'd tossed over his lap earlier a bit carelessly. that should be it, then. his eyes track over to the fire in the fireplace that was keeping him from being an airplane-cicle, briefly glances back at mobei jun (who is taking his outer robe off), and looks mournfully back at the fire. shang qinghua mentally curses himself for coming up with such a cool, sexy idea as an ice demon with an ice palace, then uses a bit of cultivation magic to snuff out the fire. the temperature in the room drops near instantly. he's not sure where he's going to hang out now, because there are not nearly enough rooms in this frigid place that are friendly to him without his beloved fireplace...

...or, well, he's got somewhere to stay, apparently. shang qinghua blinks, a bit surprised, and watches as mobei jun moves out of the way to make space for him on his bed. it takes him a moment to process. everything has been so bizarre since--well, since lianfang-jun and that whole nightmare, but he's starting to come to terms with the fact that mobei jun may, in fact, actually consider them friends? kind of friends? ]

Aren't you hot? [ he counters back to the statement, but it's not an argument, or saying no. no, shang qinghua is not really in the business of saying no to mobei jun even with his newly earned (sort of?) confidence. he makes his way over to the bed anyway, wincing at the change in angle on his bad leg, then carefully lowers himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, swinging his bad leg around to rest it up on the covers. the furs on top of the bed have all been piled over on his side, and that nest seems awfully tempting with the cold prickling his spine.

he stays sitting up, watching mobei-jun's eyebrows for a change in expression. ]

[ cool relief washes over mobei-jun when the fire goes out, the burning feeling across his skin lowering to a simmer rather than a rolling flame. shang qinghua is clearly clever, which is why the question is all the more ridiculous to him when it's asked. ]

Obviously.

[ his tone reeks would reek with condescension if he was any less beat up, but now it just sounds exhausted. of course he's hot, of course if he could he'd just slide off the bed and lay on the ground, but he is a king and it is unsightly for kings to lay around half naked and injured on the ground. well, at the very least, he's not so shameless as to do it - he can't speak for lord luo. who knows what that guy gets up to when he's left alone with his husband.

he can feel the dip of shang qinghua's weight on the bed and he it reminds him, even through his tired haze, that shang qinghua is helping him and being kind when he doesn't have to be. so if he wants.... whatever this arrangement has become to work, he has to try to be kinder to shang qinghua. the man needs the reassurance more than mobei-jun realized, which is what lead to all this in the first place.

but being direct really goes against his upbringing, so he ends up laying there, lips pursed and eyes closed as he tries to think about what, if anything, he can say without feeling ridiculous. ] It will pass.

[ nailed it? ]

[ somewhere, binghe, half naked and injured on the ground: shizun pay attention to me

the ridiculousness of "it will pass" ends up just making shang qinghua snort, the laugh nowhere near anything attractive. ] Of course it will.

[ maybe you could attribute that to shang qinghua thinking mobei-jun is strong and cool but it's actually along the lines of you're an ice demon i made you you are too strong to get taken out THAT easy. he would not build his deuteragonist as anything but stable, thank-you-very-much. canon fodder? mobei-jun? as if, shang qinghua made him with TLC!

okay, maybe not the right kind of TLC. or maybe the exact right kind of TLC? he's not really sure, still. things are so awkward and weird after everything that happened with mobei-jun's uncle, but it's not... it's not bad. he's noticed he's gotten better at reading his king's moods, able to pick up on the minute differences between them (and not just because he looks at his face a lot when he's not paying attention!). and his king has been... trying. he thinks. he's learned the difference between a demonic ass kicking and a gentle beating (he hates this), but lately, mobei-jun has been almost--almost--gentle. he's trying.

he huffs. it's not quite a sigh, but if he's trying, he should... he should try and return the favor. with the chill settling in the room now that the fire's out, shang qinghua reaches out, his small hand hovering, before he sets his fingers gently against mobei-jun's temple. his fingertips are freezing cold, considering, and he's utterly distracted from the hemming and hawing of his internal monologue by the sudden presence of a warm face against his fingertips. ] Ahhhhhhhh,, my King, allow me to cool you off the best I can.

[ by leeching the heat off of you with his cold fingers. what a beneficial agreement! 10/10! he extends his fingers when he's pretty sure his hand isn't going to get bitten off or something, and presses his hands against his temples instead, near his hairline. yessss WARM. warm and broken by mobei-jun standards but great for shang qinghua right at this moment. ]

Edited (whoops) 2020-04-17 01:03 (UTC)

[ sorry shang qinghua your ideal man is just not the type to be half naked and injured-- oh wait a minute

anyway.

this time he actually does shoot a glare to shang qinghua for laughing, because it is rude and mobei-jun does not need to be reminded that he stated the obvious too. after all, mobei-jun will always heal. anything that doesn't kill him has to run.

he expects shang qinghua to leave after that, or apologize, or maybe both. but instead, he continues to surprise mobei-jun, this time by moving closer instead of further away, by not being put off by his glares. he must finally be coming to terms and realizing that mobei-jun would never do him real harm, not if he can help it. it's strange and new, but it's good that now shang qinghua can move closer and sit beside him. the reversal matches the reversal in the way his hands feel - normally shang qinhua's touch is too warm, his human heat always coming to war with mobei-jun's demonic cold. but this time shang qinghua's fingers are cool against his feverish skin, and mobei-jun can't hold back the long exhale from his lips.

his heart beats stronger in his chest, and while shang qinghua isn't doing anything really to help him heal, the motion is enough. as if just the attempt, the closeness, makes mobei-jun feel like a little more of the wide distance between them is closing, and they're a little bit more like equals.

( equals. if his younger self knew mobei-jun even had the thought he would've slapped him for it. but back then shang qinghua had not shown his true colors that proved where his loyalties truly lie. ) ]

Thank you. [ the words are so soft that no one who wasn't listening for him to speak would've heard them. that's fine by mobei-jun, he figures shang qinghua wouldn't miss them, since he's not rambling.

and if he did, then it's no skin off his back. ]

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ya no quiero que llores

give me the stars, sisi

one day he'll have more icons but not today (post extras)

for his two facial expressions

they're extremely beautiful expressions to be seen at every angle

[ shang qinghua voice ] and he was the most beautiful man ever

and his shirt, open?

ideally

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