#i will post this to ao3/twitter um. eventually. maybe over the weekend

[azaisya]

late submission for qijiu week day 2 (curses/blessings)! have roughly 3k of lighthearted fic feat. outsider pov and getting together. rating: t

When Qi Qingqi returned from a mission with Yue Qingyuan’s unconscious body slung over one shoulder, the entirety of Cang Qiong Mountain imploded. Disciples ran everywhere like chickens with their heads cut off, and half of the Peak Lords followed suit. 

Mu Qingfang didn’t know—or care—about any of that. He was the one that Qi Qingqi dumped Yue Qingyuan’s unconscious body on, and so it was up to him to try to find a cure. 

For a sleeping curse, of all the absurd things. 

The demon had supposedly been putting entire villages to sleep so she could feast on their dreams. The stories had been alarming enough to warrant sending two Peak Lords to deal with the problem, but everybody had agreed it was probably overkill. 

Well. Apparently not.

At least Qi Qingqi had managed to behead the thing after it’d cursed Yue Qingyuan.

Demons rarely used sleeping curses. It was an impractically complicated method to get something that could be achieved with simple knockout powder or any blunt object. 

Unlike knockout powder or a blunt object, Mu Qingfang didn’t have the cure sitting readily on his shelf. 

He was just starting to sift through what he did have when the distant crash of his door slamming open interrupted his concentration. He grimaced. One of these days, Shang Qinghua was finally going to snap and go after Liu Qingge for destroying so many doors. 

“Where is he?” a voice demanded, as low and snarling and dangerous as any demon. 

Mu Qingfang hastily put down his things and made for the entrance room as the danger level ratcheted up from Liu Qingge to Shen Qingqiu. 

Sure enough, Shen Qingqiu was standing in the doorway, glaring one of Mu Qingfang’s disciples into a nervous wreck. “Tell me where he is, you sniveling brat.”

The poor boy looked like he was about to faint. Mu Qingfang came into the room and smiled pleasantly. “I would appreciate it if you could refrain from insulting my disciples, Shen-shixiong.”

Shen Qingqiu whirled on him, and the little disciple let out a squeak and ran for it. Mu Qingfang would have to scold him later, but he wouldn’t be too stern. All his disciples were terrified of Shen Qingqiu, and  for good reason. The man looked absolutely livid, his usual affected loftiness abandoned for a raw fury that even Liu Qingge couldn’t draw from him. At his hip, Xiu Ya rattled in its sheath. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Mu Qingfang’s smile didn’t slip. “Zhangmen-shixiong is currently resting in a private room.”

“Resting,” Shen Qingqiu repeated, the word dripping with derision. He opened his fan with a sharp snap of his wrist, and his dark eyes glinted over its edge. “Let me see him.”

“Ah.” Introducing an element as volatile as Shen Qingqiu to a sick room was invariably a terrible idea. Explicitly telling him so was an even worse one. “Shen-shixiong, I’m afraid that Zhangmeng-shixiong’s state is currently very delicate. It would be best if he didn’t receive visitors right now.”

If looks could kill, Mu Qingfang would be a smear on the floor right now. “Was I asking?”

As mildly as ever, Mu Qingfang said, “I wasn’t aware that Shen-shixiong and Zhangmen-shixiong were close? If Shen-shixiong is truly so worried, then I suppose a brief visit would not be remiss.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened over his fan. “I’m not worried,” he snapped, “I am merely doing my duty, as the lord of Cang Qiong Mountain’s second peak.”

Got him. Mu Qingfang smiled, not at all smugly because he still had common sense and Shen Qingqiu still had Xiu Ya. “Shen-shixiong is truly admirable. Zhangmen-shixiong is still sleeping, and this one was just about to create a cure.”

Shen Qingqiu floundered as gracefully and loftily as he did anything else. After a beat, he closed his fan with a snap and whirled around. “Fine. Do it quickly.”

“Of course.”

Shen Qingqiu drew Xiu Ya in a dramatic sweep and leapt into the air. Mu Qingfang squinted after him. He was heading in the direction of Xian Shu Peak, which was not where he should be going if he was truly “doing his duty as the lord of Cang Qiong Mountain’s second peak.”

Which— interesting. Mu Qingfang hadn’t been aware that Yue Qingyuan’s frankly painfully obvious affections were returned with anything other than reluctant tolerance. 

He could think of no other reason for Shen Qingqiu to go haring off to Xian Shu Peak if it wasn’t to harass Qi Qingqi for more information about the demon that had cursed Yue Qingyuan. 

Well. At least that was a better use for his energy than pestering healers who had work to do. 

Mu Qingfang gave it an hour before either Shen Qingqiu or Qi Qingqi got fed up enough with each other to draw a blade, which should give him at least an hour and a half before anybody came running to him for emergency healing. 

With a sigh, he got to work. 

---

It took them forty minutes. Mu Qingfang barely resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as a hysterical Xian Shu disciple babbled about how Shen Qingqiu had attacked Qi Qingqi—

“Like a beast! For no reason at all!” the girl cried, “He’s going to kill her!” 

Mu Qingfang considered his options. He didn’t like Shen Qingqiu, but he would never deny the man the respect he deserved. He was acerbic and impossible to work with, but he would never just attack Qi Qingqi for no reason. It was far more likely that she’d snapped at him and he—in his state of heightened stress—had overreacted and then she had overreacted too. 

Mu Qingfang smiled his most dangerous smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you properly. Would shizhi mind repeating herself?”

The girl made a vague choking sound and hastily dropped into a bow. “This humble disciple apologizes for her disrespect! She—humbly—requests that Mu-shishu sends medical aid to Xian Shu Peak!”

Mu Qingfang kept smiling, because otherwise he was going to make a very unattractive expression. “What exactly did Shen-shixiong and Qi-shijie get themselves into?”

The girl wavered, still refusing to meet his gaze. “This disciple is unsure. Guo-shijie sent this one here as a— as a precautionary measure before anything terrible happened.” 

Mu Qingfang did not have time for this. He sent her away along with a handful of his best disciples to assuage her wide-eyed look of terror and irritably returned to his work. If Shen Qingqiu or Qi Qingqi got themselves hurt badly enough to need his help, then they’d need to wait their turn.

---

Thirty minutes later, there was another knock on his door. With a heavy sigh, Mu Qingfang gathered himself and went to open it. To his surprise, Shen Qingqiu was standing outside. He had his fan raised to cover the lower half of his face, and his hair and robes were only mildly ruffled by his flight here and whatever brawl he’d gotten into with Qi Qingqi.

Mu Qingfang just smiled and waited. It would do Shen Qingqiu some good to have to actually ask for what he wanted. 

Those dark eyes narrowed over his fan. “Have you made any progress in your research?”

Mu Qingfang kept smiling, because otherwise he’d probably bang his head into the door. Did Shen Qingqiu think that constant interruptions were the ideal environment for productive work? Is that what was happening here? 

It didn’t seem like he really wanted an answer, because Shen Qingqiu continued, “Qi-shimei shared the details of the incident with me. I would like to inspect our Zhangmen-shixiong’s condition myself.” He lowered his fan to reveal a smile that suggested it wasn’t a question.

Mu Qingfang did sigh this time, because apparently Shen Qingqiu cared about Yue Qingyuan! Who knew! Definitely not somebody who’d been forced to sit through their sniping at meetings, that was for sure. “Shen-shixiong may come in,” he allowed, “so long as he maintains the peace of the chambers.”

There was no point keeping him out, after all. He was practically vibrating with stress as it was, and there was no way he wouldn’t cause some other disaster if Mu Qingfang turned him away now. 

“Of course.” Shen Qingqiu closed his fan with a snap. “No need for Mu-shidi to chaperone. I’m sure he has much to do.” Without waiting for a response, he strode past Mu Qingfang and through the door to Yue Qingyuan’s sick room. 

Which. Great. Excellent. 

Mu Qingfang spent exactly three seconds valiantly staring at his work before giving up and following after Shen Qingqiu, fully prepared to do some kind of damage control. To his surprise, the other man was standing motionless in Yue Qingyuan’s doorway, toes barely over the threshold. The hand holding his fan was white with tension. 

Cautiously, Mu Qingfang said, “Shen-shixiong is free to enter.”

Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders tensed. He turned, unfolding his fan with a smooth, languid motion and bringing it up to cover the lower half of his face as he peered at Mu Qingfang. “Mu-shidi should get back to work. Cang Qiong Mountain needs our sect leader, after all.”

Mu Qingfang stared at him. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes were the color of lakewater at its murkiest. They were a deep grey-green, and they were filled with something terrible and unreadable, something that was somehow even more frightening than his usual hissing, spitting fury.

Ah, he thought, suddenly. 

“I’ll find a cure,” he promised.

Shen Qingqiu’s fingers tightened around his fan. His eyes narrowed, as if he were about to scoff, but in the end he just looked back through the door at Yue Qingyuan’s unconscious form, arms tucked neatly at his sides and blanket drawn up to his chest. Without another word, he turned and stalked out.

---

Mu Qingfang read many, many scrolls. He looked through all his notes, attempted all his usual solutions, but the demon’s sleeping curse was tenacious. It clung stubbornly to Yue Qingyuan, locking him in dreams no matter what Mu Qingfang tried. 

In the end, there was only one solution left. 

. . . Shen Qingqiu was going to eviscerate him.

---

“Are you telling me,” Shen Qingqiu hissed, all but vibrating with poorly-disguised fury, “that the only solution is to sleep with him?!” 

“Dual cultivation with a suitably powerful partner, yes,” Mu Qingfang replied evenly, smiling as if he wasn’t sweating bullets. The other Peak Lords, summoned for an update on their sect leaders’ condition and now attempting to melt into their chairs to avoid Shen Qingqiu’s rapidly building wrath, happily avoided eye contact. Liu Qingge had probably zoned out two sentences into the meeting. 

Shen Qingqiu tilted his chin up, both dismissive and derisive all at once. “You have access to resources of the most powerful sect in the cultivation world, and the best you can give me is dual cultivation.” 

Mu Qingfang did not flinch. It would’ve been a near miss, but Shen Qingqiu’s now obvious affection and concern for Yue Qingyuan had diminished his wrath to the hissing of an overprotective kitten and also Mu Qingfang was probably running on a few too many days without sleep. So he said, “Unfortunately, yes, that is accurate.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes locked onto him. Several tense moments passed. Shang Qinghua, several chairs away and not at all involved in the action, was nearly purple with stress. Finally, Shen Qingqiu stepped back, drawing his anger into some secret part of himself until nothing was left but a cold, cruel elegance. “Well! How far the majesty of Cang Qiong Mountain has fallen.” His lip curled into a sardonic sneer. “If I am ever cursed and the only solution is to sleep with my unconscious corpse, then just slit my throat and put us all out of our mistry.”

Somewhere in the back of the room, somebody mumbled, “Please.”

Shen Qinggqiu’s teeth clicked together. “Mu-shidi,” he said, in the same voice that made Mu Qingfang’s disciples piss themselves, “Surely there are some books on my Qing Jing Peak that you haven’t yet looked over. How can you make a diagnosis when you haven't done all the research yet?”

Mu Qingfang considered slamming his head onto the table. Unfortunately, he doubted that Shen Qingqiu’s mood was permissive enough to allow such dramatics. 

. . . it was never permissive enough to allow such dramatics. 

With the pleasant smile of a man who had definitely already read every single relevant book on Cang Qiong Mountain, he said, “I suppose I may have been remiss in my responsibilities. Zhangmen-shixiong’s condition is in no danger of worsening, and so there is no harm in further examining what information we have.”

Shen Qingqiu’s smile might as well have been fanged. “Good. I will drop them off as soon as possible.” With one last glare at the rest of the Peak Lords, he turned sharply on his heel and strode from the room in a flurry of green silks and danger.

Shang Qinghua sagged into the table. Qi Qingqi snorted and patted Mu Qingfang on the shoulder. “Good luck with that one, Mu-shidi.”

Mu Qingfang carefully did not stop smiling.

---

He waited until he was safely alone in his workshop before slamming his head on the table. It didn’t solve anything, but it did technically give him several seconds of shut-eye and that was better than nothing.

He was interrupted—once again—by the sound of his door violently slamming open.

“Shen-shixiong,” he said, peeling his face off his desk.

“Mu-shidi.” Shen Qingqiu sat down next to him and folded his hands neatly in his lap, deceptively demure. “Is dual cultivation really the only way to cure Zhangmen-shixiong of his curse?”

Mu Qingfang peered at Shen Qingqiu’s sleeves. They didn’t look very full, but there was no telling how many books the man had shoved into them. “There may perhaps—” Theoretically, possibly, somewhere. “—be other alternatives.”

Shen Qingqiu tilted his head down in acknowledgement, but his eyes never left Mu Qingfang’s. “But this is the best solution.” He didn’t wait for a response before adding, words crisp and only mildly colored by the revulsion he’d displayed in the meeting room earlier, “Dual cultivation with a suitably powerful partner is the best solution.”

“Yes,” Mu Qingfang said, not even bothering to summon his usual smile. It was what he’d already said in the meeting, after all, and Shen Qingqiu wasn’t looking for his smile anyways. 

Shen Qingqiu’s lips turned white as he pressed them together. He didn’t speak, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he was waiting for something. 

Mu Qingfang had absolutely no idea what. If anything, all he’d learned from this entire affair—beyond the surprising effectiveness of sleeping curses—was that he could not read Shen Qingqiu whatsoever. Here he was, pale and tense and snappish for a man that the whole sect was convinced that he hated. 

“Would—” Shen Qingqiu began, before stopping and scowling at the wall. “Would. My cultivation level. Work.”

“Oh.” Mu Qingfang wondered if he should even bother being surprised anymore. At least this was one thing he’d already known about his Shen-shixiong: he was an absolutely abysmal communicator. “Um.”

Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks colored, and he quickly said, “Not that I want to do this. But Zhangmen-shixiong deserves better than some brute like Liu Qingge, and there’s hardly a wealth of cultivators powerful enough to match him. So excuse this lowly one for his flawed foundation, but—”

Ah, what?! Mu Qingfang had not asked for any of this??? Hastily, before Shen Qingqiu could ramble himself into changing his mind, Mu Qingfang said, “Shen-shixiong, you are one of the most powerful cultivators in the world.” There was a reason that he’d been able to last as long as he had in duels with Liu Qingge in their youths. “You would absolutely, ah, work.”

Shen Qingqiu’s fan opened with a snap. It did little to hide the redness of his face. “Ah. Well. Good.”

“Right,” Mu Qingfang said. 

They stared at each other. 

Shen Qingqiu bristled, shoulders tilting upwards again, and Mu Qingfang realized abruptly that he was about to get eviscerated if he didn’t leave very, very soon. Quickly, Mu Qingfang exclaimed, “Well! Good. I’ll take my leave first, to allow you and Zhangmen-shixiong your privacy. You know how this works?”

“Of course I know how this works!” Shen Qingqiu yelped, too indignant to maintain an even tone. 

Mu Qingfang smiled. It was perhaps his first genuine smile since Qi Qingqi had absconded after dumping Yue Qingyuan’s body in his arms. “Good. I’ll leave Shen-shixiong to it, then.”

Before Shen Qingqiu could figure out how to stop spluttering, Mu Qingfang gathered his things and quickly vacated the premises.

---

Well. He supposed that was one way to do things.

---

Yue Qingyuan was up and about by the next day. Any assumptions Mu Qingfang had had about Shen Qingqiu wanting to be private about his affairs were quickly dashed. Yue Qingyuan walked into the next Peak Lord meeting with, ah, marks visible high enough on his neck that his collar couldn’t cover them, and he seemed utterly incapable of keeping his eyes off of Shen Qingqiu. 

Shen Qingqiu ignored him as usual, but Mu Qingfang was sitting close enough to see that they were holding hands under the table.

Which. Great. Excellent. Exactly what Mu Qingfang wanted to see at every sect meeting for the rest of his life.

“It’s all your fault, you know,” Liu Qingge said.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Mu Qingfang protested. 

“No, it absolutely is,” Qi Qingqi said glumly, “I can’t believe we have to watch Zhangmen-shixiong making bedroom eyes at Shen Qingqiu every single month.” 

Mu Qingfang put his head on the table. Maybe if he just ignored everything, it would all go away. 

“Did you see them yesterday?” Qi Qingqi continued, “They were wearing matching outfits.”

Shang Qinghua, inexplicably, shot Mu Qingfang a strange gesture with both thumbs sticking up. “Nice.”

“No,” Liu Qingge said.

“Absolutely not,” Qi Qingqi agreed.

[ao3 link]

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: An Egg-ceptional Day (baon)

Summary:   There was a reason Stretch slept in on Saturdays. The Universe was out to get him. A little nugget of luck doesn’t hurt.

Based off a tumblr post @kiwaid reblogged. It was adorable and I could not resist. ^_^

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluff, Chickens!!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it Here!

~~*~~

Usually, the curtains in their bedroom were pulled tightly closed at night. Specifically chosen to be room darkening, because Edge had a thing about making sure Stretch got enough sleep.

Yeah, Stretch had it good and he knew it.

But somehow, last night a quarter inch of fabric didn’t get quite pulled into place (and yeah, Stretch was the one who closed them, no way Edge would’ve missed it), and a sliver of sunshine was creeping through it. That it landed directly on Stretch’s face was the Universe’s way of being funny and Stretch could only grudgingly appreciate its rude sense of humor.

It was way earlier than he normally got up on a Saturday, but he was awake now, may as well give sleep up for a loss. With great reluctance and a groan, Stretch hauled himself out of bed, scratching at his pelvis as he scrounged for something to wear. A pair of shorts and a bathrobe later and he shambled downstairs, thinking wistfully fond thoughts of coffee.

There was a full pot on the burner and a couple of bowls with rising bread dough in them, but no sign of Edge. That wasn’t too worrying, he was probably up to his elbows in some weekend project. Stretch would stumble over him eventually; hell, once he’d done it literally and that’d teach him to scrub the floor behind a door without a warning.

One cup of glorious coffee later, Stretch went outside to check on the girls with a bran muffin in hand. As per protocol, he would pick at it disinterestedly before giving most of it to the chickens. So far, he hadn’t been caught out and he was hoping his luck would hold. Whoever decided to make bran the main ingredient of the deliciousness that should be a muffin had a cruel soul.

Probably the Universe again. It always thought it was funny.

The chickens were clucking loudly the moment he opened the sliding glass door, only getting louder as he approached.

“all right, i’m coming,” Stretch shook his head. “what’s up with you two, anyway, i—“ he trailed off. Two. Two chickens, Noodle and Dumpling were at the gate, clamoring for attention. Nugget was nowhere to be seen.

With trembling hands, Stretch opened the gate, swallowing back panic and gently nudging the other two aside with his slippers as he stepped inside. There was a little food in their trough, which made him frown; Edge didn’t usually feed them, even though he got up earlier. A peek in the coop didn’t reveal a little black chicken, but her leash and harness were also missing from the hook inside the door.

Welp, he was no Sherlock Holmes or even a Scooby Doo, but Stretch figured he had enough clues to solve the mystery of where. Why was still up for grabs, though, so onward he went.

As quests went, this one was pretty short, not lasting past going through the gate to the front yard. Edge was kneeling on the ground, weeding through his garden plots and honestly, anyone who thought Edge was at all scary really needed to see him in his gardening hat.

Next to him, happily pecking at the grass, was Nugget in her harness. Her leash was fastening to the handle of a trowel that was sticking out of the ground, not that she was likely to run away, not from Edge.

Why was it he never had his damn phone in these moments?

Stretch walked up to him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down the slight protuberance of his nasal cavity at Edge. “you know, you make fun of me when i take her for walks.”

“She’s not being used as model to cadge Instagram upvotes with me,” Edge told him loftily. He tossed a handful of weeds into a basket with a pile of others. “She’s helping me.”

“helping you?” Stretch repeated slowly, tasting the words. “yeah, okay, she’s a highly skilled gardener, i’m sure. a regular johnny appleseed, bet we could find her a set of tools on amazon.”

“It isn’t her garden skills I needed.” Another handful of weeds and Edge wasn’t quite looking at him now. “Many insects are useful in a garden, so long as they don’t consume the plants, but while I was out back weeding the plot there, a multi-legged monstrosity of some sort attacked me. Nugget swooped in and consumed it. Now she’s protecting me from further incidents.”

Okay.

Yeah.

Well, that was only the funniest fucking thing he’d ever heard and Edge was so matter-of-fact about it, Stretch wasn’t entirely sure if he was even serious. That story, told in that completely flat tone? Edge was a surprisingly skilled bullshit artist when it came to the ridiculous; it was the serious shit he had trouble lying about.

But, oh, he could picture it. His big, tough Underfell hubby, shrieking and scrambling away from certain insect destruction, only to be rescued by a little chicken who gulped down the offender with a crow of delight. It was like Godzilla getting rescued by Raymond Burr.

He didn’t know if the universe was cruel to let him know what he missed, or kind enough to wake him to discover that it happened at all, because if he hadn’t caught Nugget on duty, the chances of Edge bringing that up over sandwiches at lunch ranked right up there with Edge signing them up for line dancing classes.

Cruel or kind, hm. Both. It was probably both.

While he was wrapping his mind around that, Edge paused in his weeding to give Nugget a scritch. She crooned in ecstasy as her favorite person gave her her due, leaning into his hand and Stretch couldn’t even be jealous.

Okay, maybe a little.

If they were in a cartoon, the lightbulb going on over his head would have glowed even in the bright sunshine, “oh! hang on, stay here!”

Stretch dashed into the house, bathrobe flapping, down to the basement where he kept his box of little outfits he’d made for the ladies over the last year. It took him a moment of digging through the disorganized clutter but soon he held up the little apron he found triumphantly.

One sharpie later, and he was back outside, carefully tying on the apron over the harness. Nugget only stood there, patiently allowing it; she’d always been the best at indulging his whims. In no time she stood before them with her new uniform declaring, ‘Guard Chicken On Duty.’

Edge shook his head, “It’s my fault, I suppose, for allowing you to think you’re funny all this time.”

“i’ll have you know i am hilarious,” Stretch told him haughtily. “thousands of twitter users can’t be wrong.”

“Remind me never to tell you about the Humans who think the earth is flat,” Edge said dryly, but he was trying not to smile and on him that was as a good as a belly laugh.

Stretch pulled out his phone, quickly grabbed because like hell was he missing another photo opportunity. “c’mon, get your feet in the picture!”

His sigh was long-suffering, but seriously, this wasn’t even on the top ten list of worst things he’d done for Stretch. The pic of his grubby gardening shoes with a chicken attacking the toes was on Instagram and Twitter in no time and the likes were pouring in immediately.

“Can I finish now?” Edge asked, in that sweety-sweety polite voice he got when he was being an ass. It was in the top three tones that Stretch loved on him, handily beaten out by ‘hoarse sultry’ and ‘captain command’. Top three wasn’t bad to start the day on.

“yep,” Stretch told him absently, fingers tapping furiously over his phone.

“And don’t start feeding her that bran muffin you have in your pocket yet, I need her hungry.”

“sure, babe…ah,” Stretch cringed guiltily. “um…sorry?”

Edge only hummed and his eye lights were amused. “If you’d prefer another flavor, you can ask, love.”

“please,” Stretch said immediately, because the Universe smiled upon him this day. “anything but bran. kale muffins would be better.”

“I don’t believe I’ll put that to the test, but there are blueberry ones in the pant—“ The words were smothered beneath Stretch’s quick, sloppy kiss and then he was gone, headed back into the house for his sweet, sweet breakfast.

Okay, so maybe the universe was giving him a little bit of a pass today. Missed the exceptional funny but gained the blueberry muffins.

Fair trade.

-finis-