Work Text:
The apartment was quiet in the chilly winter night, just the soft hum of the fridge and the click of Feng Xin's keyboard. He was sprawled on the couch in his old sweats and hoodie, his laptop balanced on his knees, squinting at a spreadsheet that made no sense to him anymore. There was a clutter of documents on the coffee table in front of him, marked and placed in a strategic mess. His hair was a disaster, thick curls piled up and clamped with a claw clip that was barely holding on. He couldn't give it any attention at the moment.
It was past midnight. Again. And cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones when you've been sitting still for hours. The heat in this building was a joke.
Feng Xin rubbed his eyes. If he were going to be out here all night again, he needed a blanket.
He sighed— which quickly turned into a yawn as he left the laptop on the couch and padded to the bedroom, pushing the door open gently. There was a nice cosy spare blanket in the closet. He could just…
Feng Xin paused, a frown forming between his brows.
The light was on.
That was weird. Mu Qing always slept with the lights off. He never slept with the lights on; he said it messed with his sleep rhythm. Was something wrong?
Slowly Feng Xin peeked inside to see what was going on.
As he thought, Mu Qing was asleep, but he wasn't on his own side of the bed — the left side with the blue throw pillow. Instead, he was curled tightly on Feng Xin's side, his body a small, protective comma. His face was buried in Feng Xin's pillow, the one with the slightly firmer fill that Feng Xin preferred. Looking so small and tucked into himself, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.
Feng Xin stood there for a second, just looking.
Mu Qing was pretty. Like, really pretty. In the daytime, he was all sharp comments and attitude, quick to roll his eyes or fire back with something sarcastic. But asleep, none of that was there. His features were relaxed and peaceful, his lips slightly parted. He looked young and impossibly vulnerable. Just soft skin, slow breathing, dark lashes against his cheeks. Peaceful.
Feng Xin's chest went all warm and tight. He would stay awake for a month straight if it meant providing a safe place for this person to sleep like this.
He walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Mu Qing's temple. Soft. Careful not to wake him.
That's when he noticed what Mu Qing was holding.
A lump of fabric was clutched against Mu Qing’s chest, held as tightly as a child would hold a teddy bear. Feng Xin squinted. It was a hoodie. His hoodie. The faded grey one with the university logo that had mysteriously vanished from the back of his chair about a week ago. Mystery solved. Mu Qing had it clutched against his chest, arms wrapped around it, face pressed into the fabric.
Feng Xin almost laughed. This cute, ferocious, adorable person couldn’t sleep alone, so he’d picked up a hoodie for comfort instead of simply coming out to the living room and asking Feng Xin to come to bed. The thought was so endearing it made his heart ache.
It was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.
He kissed Mu Qing's forehead again, slower this time. Then he got an idea.
Quiet as he could, he pulled off the hoodie he was wearing—a well-worn, deep green one that was warm and carried his scent. He pulled it over his head, the cool air hitting his skin for a moment. Then, as gently as if he were disarming a bomb, he slipped his fingers under Mu Qing’s grasp. He felt the sleepy boy stir, a small frown creasing his brow. Mu Qing made a little sound of protest in his sleep, a tiny groan that escaped his lips. Feng Xin worked the old grey hoodie free. For a second, Mu Qing’s hands clutched at nothing, his frown deepening.
Quickly, Feng Xin pressed the warm green hoodie into his arms. The moment the fabric touched his skin, Mu Qing’s expression transformed. He buried his nose in it, inhaling deeply. The frown vanished, replaced by a tiny, contented sigh as he pulled it closer and settled back into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Feng Xin's heart felt like it might float right out of his chest.
He pulled on the purloined grey hoodie. It was warm and smelt like Mu Qing's shampoo and perfume now.
He grabbed a blanket from the closet and tiptoed out, glancing back one more time at the boy curled up on his side of the bed, holding his hoodie like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Back on the couch, wrapped in the blanket with the grey hoodie against his skin, Feng Xin couldn't stop smiling. The spreadsheet was still there, still a mess, still waiting. But he didn't mind anymore.
It was two in the morning; he was exhausted, and he had a mountain of work left.
But his boyfriend was asleep in their bed, holding his hoodie.
And somehow, that was enough to get him through the night.