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Kunlun is late.
It’s unusual for him – at least, unusual for him now, several weeks since he joined the Alliance. At first, Shen Wei had had to fetch him each morning, sleepy and grumbling, from his pallet – but given a few days to adjust and recover from what must have been an exhausting journey from his mountain home, Kunlun has been nothing but punctual to their dawn training.
And yet – this morning, he hasn’t appeared; Shen Wei waits a few more minutes, just in case, and then goes in search.
Kunlun has stressed to him many times that he’s always welcome at any time, day or night – so Shen Wei doesn’t announce himself before he slides past the thick hanging marking the entrance to Kunlun’s room, and-
There’s no moisture in his throat; he swallows, takes a shaky breath, because Kunlun is there, kneeling on his pallet – head tipped back, the mass of his hair tumbling down past his shoulders, beads in his braids glinting like tiny stars.
Shen Wei wants to sink his fingers into Kunlun’s hair; wants to set his mouth to the long line of Kunlun’s throat and bite, wants-
He swallows again, throat clicking. “Kunlun-” he manages, and Kunlun starts.
“Ah, is it that late? Sorry, sorry-!” he says, and yanks his hands out of his hair, hissing between his teeth. His comb is trailing loose strands of hair, and Shen Wei starts to form a suspicion – General Kunlun had arrived alone, after all, and in his mountain home he’d surely had servants, people who took care of his person and effects – people who must have been either left behind or lost somewhere along the way.
He’s been paying an – ordinary amount of attention to Kunlun, so of course he’s noticed how Kunlun has been getting steadily more dishevelled as the weeks passed, but seeing him struggle now, as he roughly sections out his ponytail and ties it off, he has to bite back the offer that wants to leap from his tongue.
Kunlun has been so warm and friendly, so open and engaging, but at the same time it’s hard for Shen Wei to forget that this is General Kunlun. It’s not appropriate for him to make such an offer to one of such high status; Shen Wei might be Heipaoshi, but that only makes him the leader of the Dixingren that have joined the Alliance, and, he’s sure, barely known outside of it – but everyone has heard of General Kunlun.
Appropriate or not, he can’t stop thinking about it.
It stays with him all through their dawn training, Kunlun’s mirrored movements gaining smoothness and strength with every repetition; stays with him as he passes through the Haixingren training fields late in the morning and catches a glimpse of Kunlun overseeing the Haixingren detachment Lord Guardian Ma Gui assigned him, posture straight and voice strong as he calls out commands; stays with him through their more intensive late afternoon training back in their meadow, as he knocks Kunlun’s blade aside again and trips him down onto the grass.
Shen Wei heaves Kunlun upright, offers him the waterskin; his eyes catch, again, on the line of Kunlun’s throat as he drinks, and Shen Wei needs to have some decorum, he can’t-
“Your hair,” his traitorous mouth says, and Kunlun hums an inquisitive note, swallowing his mouthful of water. Shen Wei wants to run, hide, pretend he never said anything; but now that Shen Wei has started to say it he can’t take it back. Kunlun, at least, has always been kind; he’s sure to be kind here, too, when he rejects Shen Wei’s offer – and at least then Shen Wei will know.
Even so, it’s hard to keep going, words thick and clumsy on his foolish tongue. “Would you – let me help?”
For a moment, Kunlun doesn’t say anything, and Shen Wei’s heart sinks – and then his eyes light up. “Please,” he says, grateful – eager, and it’s everything Shen Wei has wanted, the answer to the desperate longing that’s grown in his chest since their first real conversation on the cliff.
And maybe-
Maybe Kunlun feels it too, this connection between them – and maybe Kunlun, too, has been unsure of his welcome, but wanting to reach out.
--
Shen Wei takes him to the baths.
Kunlun has, apparently, being doing only a rudimentary cold wash in his room – and the groan he makes when he sinks into the hot spring makes Shen Wei clutch for his self control, and grateful all over again that they’re in one of the private alcoves rather than the main public pool.
He’s tested again when he finally gets to wash Kunlun’s hair; Kunlun knelt trustingly in the pool before him, letting Shen Wei turn his head this way and that, letting him sink his hands into his hair, massage at his scalp and run his fingers through the thick wet mass of it – and if he’d had any doubts at all as to how much Kunlun trusted him, this single moment would be enough to put them well and truly to rest.
It’s gratifying, to finally have something to give back – and sure, Kunlun had asked him for combat lessons, asked him and him alone – but that’s easy enough to explain away as part of the war efforts. And while it could be argued that Kunlun is at Shen Wei’s mercy, alone in their secluded training meadow for hours each day, Shen Wei’s blade often at his belly or his heart or his throat, it’s not like Kunlun then is disarmed. He carries his unique weapon with him everywhere – even now it waits on the ledge with their clothes, next to Shen Wei’s own blade.
No, the combat lessons are for the war – but this is personal, Kunlun stripped bare in Shen Wei’s hands.
And still, he doesn’t know – Kunlun agreed to Shen Wei helping him with his hair, but that doesn’t guarantee he’ll agree to a proper courtship; Shen Wei might snarl every part of Kunlun’s hair, and then have to go through every day with Kunlun so close beside him, only this time knowing that he’s already been rejected, and Shen Wei-
He’s borne a lot already for the war effort; he would bear that, too, but it would crush part of his soul in doing.
If all he has is this, if all he has is tonight – Shen Wei isn’t going to waste it.
He tends to Kunlun carefully, coaxing thick tangles to unwind; spends more time than he normally would working the soap through the strands, over the braids; massages gently across his scalp, neck and temples until Kunlun is so relaxed he’s nearly swaying where he kneels, only Shen Wei’s touch keeping him upright.
He rinses him off even more carefully, but eventually even Shen Wei can admit to himself that he’s stalling, just running his fingers mindlessly through Kunlun’s hair, soap well and truly washed out.
He stills his hands, takes a breath – touches Kunlun’s shoulder gently, and guides him back upright.
--
Dried, dressed, and back in Kunlun’s room, Shen Wei kneels again behind Kunlun as he folds down to sit cross legged on his pallet. Shen Wei’s own hair is starting to come loose from the rough coil he’d done in the hot springs, but it’s a far lesser concern when he has Kunlun’s hair, unbound, at his fingertips.
He cards through thick strands, picking out Kunlun’s narrow braids; Shen Wei had used his dark energy to dry them both, so Kunlun’s hair is glossy and soft, for all that it’s still hopelessly tangled.
“Should I be re-doing the braids?” Kunlun asks, tilting one of them back and forth; the flicker of light gleaming off the beads is almost mesmerising – everything about Kunlun is mesmerising.
Shen Wei hums, sliding another few braids over Kunlun’s shoulder, out of the way. Whoever did them – was this the final act of Kunlun’s body servant, before he left his mountain home? – has done good work; they’re fine braids, the weave firm and Kunlun’s silver beads well secured. Kunlun might have grown steadily more dishevelled over the last few weeks, but these braids have stood in good stead.
“Not yet,” Shen Wei says, and picks out another couple of braids. He might have offered, but Kunlun accepted; surely it’s okay for him to- “I can – let you know. When they need it,” he says, and somewhere between his brain and his mouth his voice has grown quiet, wavering, and Shen Wei-
“Shen Wei ah,” Kunlun says; Shen Wei can’t see his face, but he can see the curve of Kunlun’s cheek, hear it in his voice – he’s smiling. “Thank you,” he adds, and something in Shen Wei eases; maybe he hasn’t overstepped after all.
He picks out the final few braids and picks up Kunlun’s comb.
The tangles are – bad.
It’s – Shen Wei is trying, but there are snarls within snarls; every time Kunlun flinches Shen Wei’s heart sinks a little further.
“Sorry,” he murmurs as yet another knot catches on the comb and Kunlun hisses in a breath – but Kunlun only laughs, reaches behind himself to pat at Shen Wei, and Shen Wei knows he can’t see, is moving blind, but Kunlun’s hand is very high up on Shen Wei’s thigh, touch burning like a brand through Shen Wei’s pants, and Shen Wei-
Kunlun is touching him, and yes, Kunlun touches him casually all the time, but this is different, just the two of them alone in Kunlun’s room, no gloves or gauntlets or armour – just Kunlun’s bare hand, warm from the baths, the thin layer of Shen Wei’s pants all that separates it from Shen Wei’s skin.
Kunlun doesn’t notice; carries on like nothing at all is happening. “I know how badly it’s tangled,” he says, “Shen Wei ah, I know you’re being careful,” and Kunlun is so kind, reassuring Shen Wei like it’s not his clumsy fingers failing to work the tangles out of his hair; Shen Wei used to comb didi’s hair, of course, but that was long years ago now, and his own hair has never been so tangled as this.
“Don’t let it get this bad next time,” Shen Wei says thoughtlessly, and if his hands weren’t buried deep in the mass of Kunlun’s hair he would clap them over his careless mouth – but Kunlun only laughs again, like Shen Wei’s rudeness is charming, and takes his hand off Shen Wei’s thigh to wave it in the air.
“Yes!” he says, “yes, I’ll ask you for help much earlier,” and Shen Wei sucks in a breath – because that’s not Kunlun allowing Shen Wei to take a temporary liberty, that’s Kunlun saying this will happen again; that he will seek Shen Wei out, that he will allow Shen Wei this pleasure more than once-
This is Kunlun saying that he accepts Shen Wei’s offer.
“Kunlun,” Shen Wei says; he can’t help the way his voice has dropped, his emotions thickening his throat, but he manages to get the words out regardless – needs to tell Kunlun how grateful he is; that Kunlun would take a chance on allowing Shen Wei to court him, even with all the disparities between them. “I would be honoured.”
“Shen Wei ah,” Kunlun says, and there’s something in his voice too, the same kind of serious note there’d been when he’d said you’ve already returned it, “the honour is mine,” and Shen Wei-
Shen Wei freezes; can’t help himself, but he’d never imagined – Kunlun allowing himself to be courted, yes, Shen Wei has thought it many times, whether the great General would allow him the liberty, but this – Kunlun saying the honour is his, that he sees Shen Wei as an equal – and Shen Wei knows that Kunlun has been treating him that way from almost the beginning, but it’s one thing to face Kunlun’s casual smirks across their training meadow and another thing entirely when it’s matters like this, where status is bound inextricably through the weave.
Kunlun shifts his weight, starts to turn, and Shen Wei has been quiet too long; he can’t extricate his hands from Kunlun’s hair easily, but he can touch his elbow gently to Kunlun’s shoulder, stilling his motion, pressing him back.
“Kunlun,” he says, tasting the name on his tongue, said for the first time without the spectre of General in front of it; it feels freeing, and Shen Wei realises all at once he’s smiling; this gift merely another aspect of Kunlun’s generosity that Shen Wei will never be able to repay, but he’ll gladly spend the rest of his life trying.
He returns to his task with renewed vigour, hands moving even slower through the tangles; he’ll never be able to repay all the gifts Kunlun has given him, but he can start with this – a desire to tend to Kunlun without him having to flinch at every other stroke of the comb.
He can see Kunlun relaxing, tension leeching from his shoulders, and Shen Wei smiles, satisfaction curling through him. This, this is what he wanted, what he had a taste of back in the private bath; Kunlun relaxed and pliant in his hands, allowing Shen Wei to lavish him with care.
He combs and untangles, and combs some more; Kunlun’s shoulders drop even further, his breathing settling into something slow and steady.
“Shen Wei ah,” Kunlun murmurs some amount of time later; everything has gone warm and slow around them, like they’re the only two people left in the world. “You’ll have to show me what you’re doing.”
Shen Wei huffs a breath. He most certainly will not; Kunlun accepted his offer, which means that Shen Wei will do Kunlun’s hair from now on. Kunlun himself named them equals; Shen Wei has that right.
“No need,” Shen Wei murmurs back. If Kunlun has forgotten how things work, then Shen Wei will just have to remind him.
“I should learn how to do it properly,” Kunlun says; it’s a fair attempt at his usual cajoling tone, but he’s too relaxed to make it really stick.
“I will do it,” Shen Wei says, a little firmer; he’d thought they were of an understanding, but clearly there’s something still to be worked out.
“What if you’re on a mission?” Kunlun says, and – okay, Shen Wei can understand his concern, given the state his hair is in now, but-
Kunlun had named them equals, and in this, Shen Wei wants to be selfish; if he doesn’t show Kunlun, then Shen Wei can do this every time. He tucks his chin, carries on moving his hands; Kunlun himself had named him Wei and in this, Shen Wei has decided, he will not be moved.
“Shen Wei ah,” Kunlun murmurs, “I need to know how to do it so when I do your hair I don’t hurt you,” and Shen Wei-
His hand stutters on the comb, carved wood sliding out of his grasp; Kunlun starts to turn again, but he absolutely cannot see Shen Wei right now – he darts his hands to Kunlun’s shoulders, gently guiding him back forward.
He – Kunlun wants-
This, Shen Wei had not imagined, not even in his most outlandish of dreams.
Kunlun accepting his courtship, yes. But Kunlun wanting to court him in turn? Kunlun wanting Shen Wei to show him how to properly care for another’s hair – not to supplant Shen Wei’s own wishes to care for Kunlun’s hair but so that he can learn to care for Shen Wei-
Shen Wei can barely remember the last time someone other than him cared for his hair; a long time ago, back before didi was stolen from him, before the meteor landed and half the world burned to ash, before he and did had been run out of their village after their parents had died.
That Kunlun wants to now – that he wants to court Shen Wei – Shen Wei, not Heipaoshi – that he wants-
Shen Wei doesn’t know what to do with it; he’s blushing so hard his face feels like it’s all but burning.
He knows what he doesn’t want, though – he doesn’t want to reject Kunlun’s offer. How could he, when General Kunlun wants to court him? He might feel unworthy, but Kunlun himself has accepted Shen Wei’s suit, has named them equals in his eyes – clearly Kunlun feels differently, and hadn’t Shen Wei just resolved himself to be selfish?
He might not know what to do with it, not know how to manage these feelings that curl like restless dragons in his belly, but he wants this with every fibre of his being.
“Shen Wei-?” Kunlun says; his voice is quiet, careful – like he doesn’t want to startle Shen Wei, like he thinks that he might have overstepped, and Shen Wei-
“Kunlun,” Shen Wei says, matching his tone. He slides his hands in from Kunlun’s shoulders back into his hair, fingertips brushing for a moment against the nape of Kunlun’s neck; feels Kunlun shiver against him, just from that simple touch, and feels the dragons coil tighter.
Kunlun had said the honour is mine, Kunlun had made his own offer of courtship – and Shen Wei wants this, wants him-
Wants to see where they can go, together.
“I – yes. Yes.”
He picks up the comb, sets his hands once more in Kunlun’s hair – his now to care for, offered and accepted, agreed twice over – and gets back to work.