Chapter Text
The front door of the apartment slams shut, the thin walls of the room rattling hard against the old floorboards. He lets out a flinch, his arms curling around his knees on the floor. Voices can be heard sharp and angry from the hallway, cutting through the air like knives. The boy on the ground can’t help pressing his face into his arms, trying to disappear and slip into the cracks of the room itself. His breaths come faster and he can feel the room around him getting smaller and smaller and he feels himself getting smaller, crushing himself into a tiny form, bones cracking, snapping–
Before this foster home, there was a particularly kind caretaker, a volunteer, back at the orphanage. Once, she had caught him panicking just like this and gently placed her hand right above his wrist, guiding him to breathe.
“In, and hold, and out again.”
He could almost hear her voice now, soft and steady in his ear.
“Breathe in for four… yes, now hold for three… you’re doing so well for me… and now out for seven. Can you count with me? One… two… three… four… five… six…”
The boy heaves out a huge breath.
Seven.
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
A tray clattered somewhere in the kitchen. The voices went silent. The smell of burned food lingered faintly, making his stomach twist in hunger he has long since learned to ignore.
Outside the room, he can hear faint sobbing and heavy footsteps, stomping towards the door. Against his wishes, his breathing quickens again and he feels his vision blur. The door bursts open and he does not want to look up.
Only in the solitude of darkness and feeble warmth of his own arms did he find comfort.
Hunched behind the dresser, the boy presses himself into the shadows, desperate not to be seen. His breaths come shallow and fast, each one loud in the oppressive silence. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement – a shadow stretching, growing larger against the dim light of the room.
He froze, heart hammering, and dared not blink, fearing that even the smallest motion would draw it closer. The shadow shifted again, each step deliberate, the floorboards groaning beneath its weight. The scent of alcohol clung to the air – sour, heavy – pungent to where he could not tell if it belonged in a vineyard or in what was supposed to be a home.
Every instinct screamed at him to melt into nothingness, but pressed up against the corner, there was nowhere to go. The shadow kept coming, looming closer, darker, more threatening with every heartbeat.
It hovered over him now, right out of the corner of his eye, distorting the faint light that came in through the door. He could feel how the air seemed to tighten around him, cold and heavy, pressing into his chest. His stomach lurched, his limbs went slack, and for a moment, he was certain it would swallow him whole.
“Found you.”
Qin Jiu jerked upright, gasping. The dark room of his childhood had vanished, replaced by the usual ceiling of their bedroom. He was safe. His eyes glanced to the side, where his Big Invigilator lay at peace, sleeping. Everything was fine.
So why, then, was his heart still pounding? Why did his body tremble, the phantom scent of alcohol lingering around the nooks and crannies of his brain?
He buried his face in his hands, pressing into his palms, trying to steady his breaths. His hands are clammy from the nightmare and his chest heaved, shallow and fast, despite knowing he was no longer a frightened child, no longer trapped behind slamming doors and loud voices.
Since they had left the hospital, memories from his once-vague past had begun resurfacing in the form of these dreams, reminders of experiences and feelings he’d long thought he had left behind. His time in foster care was one of them. Not all of it had been bad, but the worst of the families – the ones who had been cruel, neglectful, or simply absent – stuck in his mind, looping over and over, unresolved and gnawing at him.
You Huo was asleep, unaware of the storm still swirling in Qin Jiu’s chest. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Qin Jiu swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded quietly toward the kitchen. The cool tiles against his feet grounded him slightly as he poured a glass of water. The simple act of lifting it to his lips gave him something tangible to focus on.
Even as he drank, old phrases echoed in his mind: the pulse of his own fear, the patterns of panic he had learned to anticipate long before he ever understood them. His body remembered more than his conscious mind ever could. It recoiled instinctively, every muscle still tuned to danger that no longer existed.
At his lowest as a child, he often found himself wondering why. Back then, he felt logic only dictated that the common factor amongst all these failed homes was..Qin Jiu. But he never understood why. What was so wrong with him that each family that had taken him in returned him with raised hands or turned backs?
There must be something he could do, something he could change, something he could fix, to make himself worthy of somewhere safe. To make a home, always so far out of reach, rest right in his arms.
A certain childish desperation had carried him from foster home to foster home, and an eroding hope sanded to numbness as he grew older.
He hated that something so far in the past could still affect him. At his age, he told himself, he should be past this. And yet, the emotions from before had never been allowed to run their full course. The child inside him was still waiting – for what, he didn’t know – but whatever it was, it would never come. Even now, in the quiet of their apartment, the desire to push the memory away clashed with the aching need to acknowledge it.
Qin Jiu sighed and finished his water, setting the glass down with deliberate care. He paused for a moment, letting himself simply exist in the dark, letting the remnants of the nightmare settle like dust in the air around him. Then, quietly, he made his way back to bed, sliding under the covers with practiced gentleness. He settled beside You Huo, careful not to wake him, curling toward the warmth that had become familiar, safe. His lover stirs closer in his sleep, a soft snuffle slipping from his throat, and Qin Jiu doesn’t even try to stop the fond smile that spreads across his face.
For all the fear that refused to leave him, for all the memories clawing at the edges of his mind, he was home. Home, and in that steady, unwavering presence, he felt enough.
—
Morning unfolded with its usual cadence: drills on the training grounds, briefings, paperwork that seemed endless. They’d received orders insisting that the system, rather than be completely destroyed, be rehashed into something “friendlier”. Both Qin Jiu and You Huo had obviously wanted to oversee these proceedings, regardless of the amount of extra work they’d have to pile onto themselves because of it.
Qin Jiu moved through it all with the same efficiency as always, though his concentration wavered in ways only he noticed. A door creaked somewhere down the corridor, and he tensed. The voices raised too sharply during a sparring match sent his focus spiraling for a moment too long. By noon, a dull headache had set in, accompanied by mounting irritation towards himself, as he stared at the same report without really absorbing a single word.
Across the courtyard, You Huo was as steady as ever – calm in command, the kind of presence that drew order without needing to raise his voice. This was one of the rare instances they were sanctioned to work in the same area on base, and they made sure to take advantage of it to the fullest. It was only natural, then, for You Huo to stop by Qin Jiu’s office after declaring a break for his exhausted subordinates.
“Your lunch.”
He drops a neatly wrapped package in front of his husband. This husband of his who looked closer and closer to setting the entire office ablaze with each passing second.
You Huo snorts at the image. It wouldn’t be out of character for Qin Jiu.
He takes in Qin Jiu’s tense shoulders and the slight squint in his eyes, even as his lover’s expression visibly softens at the sight of him. It seemed to be one of those days. Before Qin Jiu can say anything, You Huo turns away from the desk and walks towards the door, flips the light switch off, and returns.
“...Thank you, darling.” Qin Jiu murmurs.
You Huo hums in reply, noting the brief flicker of relief crossing his face. He had seemed off in the morning, though given the migraine it made sense.
Qin Jiu stands, stepping away from the desk to approach him, his hands trembling almost imperceptibly. You Huo’s eyes narrow. Without a word, he crosses the small distance between them and gently pushes his reckless lover back down into his seat, hands coming to rest on his shoulder. He threads his fingers through the other’s hair, stroking lightly.
“Rough day?” he asks, voice low.
“Can’t say it’ll ever be as bad as your trainees my dear,” Qin Jiu tilts his head up to look at him, “I see you’ve worked them to the bone again today.”
You Huo’s arms shift to rest around his neck from behind, a weight both grounding and protective. He sneers in response, “They should have known what they were signing up for.”
“Those poor soldiers, you’ve crushed their hopes and dreams.”
Qin Jiu pouts, a teasing crease forming between his handsome brows, as though he is any less unforgiving with his own S-Brigade. His husband and him were one and the same. You Huo thinks all their trainees are better off making peace with the fact right now rather than have more of their hopes and dreams, so to speak, be “crushed”.
He moves his hand, cupping Qin Jiu’s upside-down face, thumbing at his cheek. “1 through 10?”
It’s something they came up with all those months ago, when they first got out of the system and began adjusting to reality. They know each other well enough to understand that the other would never be perfectly forthcoming about their pain, always wishing to hide it for comfort of their better half. Asking the question asks for honesty, a trust well earned, sharing the promise of shouldering the other’s burden alongside them.
Qin Jiu lets out a soft sigh. “Manageable. Four.”
A six then. You Huo's personal touch to their little something came in the form of adding to whatever Qin Jiu had adlibbed, based on his gut. You Huo moved one hand up to massage his temple, the other reaching down to take the report lying on the desk.
A report from one of the teams Qin Jiu had sent out that was testing the new, barely approved system the military had employed, much to the behest of all that had been involved with its previous, more feral, predecessor.
He scans the document quickly, catching the words “Neural Profile Map” and “repeated failures” before placing it down again in favor of pressing his hands to Qin Jiu’s eyes.
“Big Invigilator, I’m not sure if you’re quite aware, but I do need my eyes to read–”
“Sleep. I’ll wake you when lunch break ends.” You Huo commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument, putting an end to his husband’s nonsense. Judging by the dark smudges under his eyes, it was clear that an uninterrupted night had once again eluded Qin Jiu. Given that and that once-again-gut-feeling of the other’s mannerisms landing a little more to the left than usual, he would not be surprised if something really was off with his partner. Not that he would admit it.
His lover smiles lightly, looking entirely too smitten despite one of You Huo’s hands hovering mere inches away from ending his life. As if reading his mind, Qin Jiu replies, “That sounds lovely, dear, but do you prefer me sleeping with one eye open?”
One of his hands raises to cover You Huo’s already tightening grip, a warm press against cool skin. This insufferable man, he thought, his nose wrinkling in impatience. Freeing one hand from his hold, You Huo once again nudges Qin Jiu’s head back to rest against him, continuing the massage.
“Both eyes closed. Sleep, Gi.”
He lets out a short laugh, then settles, murmuring, “How can I refuse, when my Big Invigilator makes it sound so inviting.” Finally, You Huo feels the man relax into him, laying his head to rest.
—
Later, when chores replaced training, routine gave way to something quieter. Qin Jiu had already finished eating and drifted to the sink, sleeves rolled up as he rinsed their plates, while You Huo hovered at the table with his glass.
The absurdity of it struck him, as it always did, that this man, this commander, could fold so easily into the rhythm of ordinary life. That Qin Jiu too could fold so easily into it, as though he was simply made for grocery trips, laundry, and shared dinners, all things mundane and peaceful. There was a time where he’d dreamed about spending his life like this and a time where he’d wholeheartedly believed that such a dream was impossible for someone like him.
Yet here it was, pressed into reality in the simplest of gestures, the quietest of moments, more solid than any dream had ever been.
It startled him sometimes – in the haze of some dreary, quiet mornings, when You Huo was still asleep and he couldn’t quite get his eyes to close against the afterimages of his nightmares – how fragile it all felt, and how easily he had once expected it to slip through his fingers, the way everything else once had. He knew the weight of impermanence too well, the sting of promises broken, of homes that never lasted. To find himself here, in the middle of something so unremarkable, was almost more disarming than a battlefield.
Peace was a language he’d never been fully taught, and yet somehow he was learning it day by day, syllable by syllable, through the cadence of footsteps beside his own, through meals shared without ceremony, through playful barbs and quiet smiles and silence that did not demand. It unsettled him the same as it steadied him, as though he were standing barefoot on unfamiliar ground, both wary of and yearning for its warmth.
A wry smile tugged at his lips at the turn his thoughts had taken.
Already he could feel that same chill creeping in, the one that always bled from his dreams into waking life, called forth not by fear itself, but by the worn paths his mind insisted on tracing.
The thoughts had well overstayed their welcome, cold at the edges, when a sharp clink of glass on the counter behind him cut through the quiet.
Too loud.
Too sharp for the moment.
His shoulders twitched before he caught himself, forcing the movement to still, all the while his hands growing shaky, and the last dish slipping back into the sink with a loud thunk in what was quite frankly an overreaction he could not control.
For all the fearlessness of his mind, it seemed his body had not moved past the tribulations carved into it very early on.
Qin Jiu could only hope his lover, keen-eyed as he was, had not taken notice of his folly.
It seemed that his dreams were getting out of control.
From behind him, he can feel You Huo shoot a sharp look into his back, any wish of going unnoticed flying out the window. Curse his terrible luck and curse his overactive subconscious– Qin Jiu would march to the grave with the unshakeable belief that he is fine. Because he is.
Without a word, You Huo stands up to cross the kitchen. He feels more than hears his husband approach him from behind, a familiar heat, as he presses a hand to the small of his back and leans forward, crowding him against the counter to get a look on his face.
He lets a few strands of hair fall over his face as he keeps his gaze at the incredibly enthralling soap suds swirling down the empty sink drain, a grin curling at his lips, lazy and bright, at his husband’s touch.
How could anything be wrong when the one he holds most dear is so close? Could there be any other that begets his attention, stealing away at his thoughts so much so a distraction is turned priority, worthy of his energy and double his time? How could he be anything but fine – even more than – when such a lovely being has, in turn, decreed that none other than him shall be graced by his measured patience, his cold exterior given way to molten core, and all the dancing intricacies of a relationship hard won and well fought for?
“You’re leaning in awfully close there my dear. Tell me, did something good happen today?”
He shakes his hands of the water and turns from the sink, crossing his arms to lean against it, fully facing You Huo. Meeting that narrowed eyed glare is worth the full view of his lover, sated and at ease.
He hasn’t been caught doing something wrong per se, though Qin Jiu now was completely and wholly aware that the other had been observing him the entire day, catching all the times he had tripped up and committed even more to this silly charade of his.
Though You Huo had not said a word yet, his expression was clear to be read.
I’m onto you, Qin Jiu.
He should be quite honored that his great one waits, giving him more than a few milliseconds to meet his fairly extended demands.
Qin Jiu’s smirk only deepens, all charm and allure, and before You Huo could respond in kind, in silver tongue or bronze fist, a hand lifted to cradle the back of his head and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to his lips. Gentle, teasing – an invitation and reassurance all the same. For a heartbeat, You Huo paused, absorbing the warmth and closeness.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he reciprocated, tilting into the kiss, the soft playfulness Qin Jiu had offered, reaching up to take Qin Jiu’s hand in his, leaning into the other man’s space– and any thought of the day, the dishes, the headache, everything, slipped away.
They parted for a breath before coming together once more, the force of their kiss pushing Qin Jiu to balance over the sink behind him, his arms bracing either side of his, their kiss deepening, urgent and unrestrained.
It was a moment less of thought than of instinct – passion pressed into the space of a heartbeat, mouths parting only to find each other again, tongues brushing in a fleeting clash that sent You Huo’s pulse tumbling.
Caged in, there’s not much else he can do but get lost in the feeling of the other’s familiar weight over him, the heavy slide of their tongue, the lines of their bodies hinting, edging at something more. You Huo realizes the very real distraction before him and bites his lover’s lips in retaliation, hands grasping, tilting the balance, so neither was leading, neither was following. Qin Jiu lets out a gasp at the intensity and You Huo pushes even further into him, claiming those noises for himself.
The kiss seared past playfulness and into need, a silent declaration of possession and desire.
Later.
He’ll ask Qin Jiu later, later, when he can catch him before he leaves bed to lick his wounds alone.
Later, when the night is quieter, when words can be softer.
For now, he lets himself get lost, reaching and pulling and holding infinitely closer as though by touch alone he could slip under Qin Jiu’s skin and settle there, a comfort flowing through every vein and vessel, imbedded deep into his heart so they may lay entangled and inseparable, a shared hearth.
—
Sometimes Qin Jiu gets this look in his eyes, where he's not entirely sure as to where he is. Like he stood from the bed and forgot which room he was meant to be in. Sometimes, he'll gasp awake in the middle of the night, from unconscious terrors, and if You Huo is quick enough, he can pull himself from slumber to offer silent company as comfort. Nightmares haunt them often, their proof nestled in the dark circles under their eyes after particularly rough days.
It all started after they'd escaped the system and regained all their memories. You Huo is well aware that neither of them had led the easiest of lives. That just became all the more obvious when they made the switch from survival games to domesticity. Firearms and bloodshed traded in for laundry and taxes. Granted, they still worked for the military, carrying out their roles with as much authority warranted.
Laying in bed now, Qin Jiu curled behind him, asleep, gives him time to address the thoughts that have been floating around in his head for a while now.
You Huo is well aware that all the little ticks that Qin Jiu continued to display and (it was more of an attempt to really) hide, could only stem from something so thoroughly ingrained into him, a reflex not developed, rather predating his time spent in the military and system. The counselors had mentioned a manifestation of their injured psyche – PTSD is what they’d called it, a result of trauma.
He’d been informed that a lot of his trauma was sourced from his time in the system, his mother. It seemed that for his lover, it had taken root well before all this. It made his heart ache at times, frown tugging at his lips, to think that for Qin Jiu to have even ended up in the system in the first place, there had to have been something worse, something before.
After all, what could tempt a person to join what was fundamentally a suicide squad? Had there been no one to tie him down in the past? Was he of the belief that no one would care if he had– had he– if he had just gone?
They’d addressed it back then. When they were still stuck in there. When You Huo and Qin Jiu himself had first learned of how exactly the latter had gotten so quickly entangled in such a high profile case.
He’d swallowed down his follow up questions because it was not the time nor was it the place. It never was, was it?
Instead, You Huo had taken his hand in support and Qin Jiu had returned him the very same smile he’d given this evening, as though what he had just heard were the mere happenings to a character of some B-rate tragedy, something entirely separate from who he was, what made Qin Jiu. He vowed he’d be upset in his place. And when they had the time, for a warzone was no place for matters of the heart, they would cradle each other in all the care and comfort deserving of what they’d been through.
Now they had escaped that warzone. They’d defeated it. And yet.
And yet.
Just like the scars left from the system’s gunfire, the deep wounds of the mind, though forgotten and only just recovered, had yet to fully heal. They had time now. They were both independent persons, entirely capable and too used to handling their troubles individually. They were both working on that. The effort they’d both put into building that bridge of reliance, learning to trust and learning to love, outside the high of adrenaline and sound of gunshots, it could not go unacknowledged.
And yet, despite it all, there were still things left unsaid. Things too out of reach to push in fear of collapsing that bridge in one fell swoop. They had time now. Time to address it, at whatever pace Qin Jiu needed.
You Huo turns over in his arms to take in the sleeping face of his lover. Even now, a little furrow nestled between his handsome brows, his usual carefree expression nowhere to be seen.
To put it frankly, he was worried. Too many times had he woken to a bed gone cold, his lover painting a lonely figure in the kitchen or the living room. He was right here, couldn’t he see?
Let me share this burden, whether it has become too heavy, let us not find out.
If he could spare him even a sliver of heartache, then wouldn’t it be all for the better? He'd pay his pound of flesh – even more – if he could erase that distant look in his eyes, if he could ease the tension that follows him after sleepless nights, if he could prove that here in his embrace, here in this little safe haven they’ve carved for themselves, they are and will forever remain untouched.
Beside him, Qin Jiu stirs. He watches, ever increasingly fond, as his husband gains fractions of consciousness, lashes fluttering along his cheeks. Even after all this time, he finds his breath stolen away at the sight of him.
“Everything alright?” The words come out slurred, his lover still not completely awake, a slight frown still present in the squint of his eyes and tense brows.
This ridiculous man.
Clearly coming out of an unsavory dream of his own, and here he is, still fretting over You Huo. You Huo remains quiet, instead leaning up with a faint smile to press a kiss to his ridiculous man, feeling his forehead smoothing under the touch of his lips. Qin Jiu lets out a faint, sleepy smile in return and holds him just a bit tighter, drifting back to sleep.
You Huo takes in the other’s now peaceful expression, fond. It’s rare to see his lover asleep before him, yet a precious sight all the same. He burrows closer into Qin Jiu’s embrace and lets out a sigh. It's time to lend his thoughts to rest. He closes his eyes and drifts off, right in his place to be.