Chapter Text
It’s quiet at Wushanju this time of day—one of the few times it is. Xiao Mei is still asleep in the little house at the back of the compound, and there are thankfully no sounds coming from Wu Xie’s bedroom. Pangzi hadn’t seen Xiaoge lurking in any trees or on any rooftops on his walk to the main house, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. When Xiaoge doesn’t want to be seen, he isn’t.
He has to admit he didn’t see this thing with Liu Sang coming, but now, looking back, it seems obvious. It’s not like Pangzi hasn’t seen that appreciative gleam in Wu Xie’s eyes before, and as time went on, Xiaoge started orienting to Liu Sang more and more. Wu Xie is still his true north, but the needle has been wavering a little. That’s more telling than if he’d thrown Liu Sang over his shoulder and carried him to the bedroom.
Pangzi shudders at that mental image. Not that he begrudges his friends any happiness—he’s been unlucky in love enough to know you should cherish it when you have it—but he doesn’t need to see it.
Opening the fridge, Pangzi makes sure they have all the ingredients for pancakes. There’s still time to run to the market before Xiao Mei wakes up if he needs to, and the last thing he needs is a disappointed little girl. This fatherhood thing is harder than he expected, but it’s also a million times better than he ever imagined.
He finds everything they need—things have been running much smoother since he took over the shopping—and starts the fancy coffee maker Hei Xiazi gave Wu Xie for his birthday. Pangzi is pretty sure it’s only here so Hei Xiazi can have coffee when he visits—and that Xiao Hua paid for it anyway—but Pangzi isn’t complaining. Besides the excellent coffee, Pangzi gets the ongoing entertainment of the way Xiaoge gives it the evil eye every time he comes into the kitchen.
Pangzi dumps beans into the automatic grinder and sets the brew cycle for a large pot. Xiaoge might not drink it, but Pangzi has a feeling both Liu Sang and Wu Xie are going to need it. After last night, he certainly does.
While the coffee brews, Pangzi finishes washing and drying the dishes from their impromptu dinner party. After all these years of crazy adventures, there’s something nice about this domesticity. It feels like a celebration of the fact that they survived—and prevailed at—what should have been a suicide mission. Not just once, but a dozen times over. Just knowing Wu Xie is alive and well enough to mentally scar his best friend with his sexcapades counts as a triumph.
He’s putting the last of the dishes away when there’s a soft sound behind him. Pangzi turns to find Liu Sang standing awkwardly in the doorway. He’s wearing a pair of Wu Xie’s pajama bottoms and a sweater that was a gift from Li Cu, even though the boy would deny it if anyone brought it up. Li Cu is still prickly about his relationship with Wu Xie—not that Pangzi blames him—but things have been getting better.
The sweater’s collar is stretched enough that it reveals vivid purple bruises on Liu Sang’s neck and collarbone. Pangi has seen similar marks on Wu Xie enough times to know exactly whose mouth made them. Liu Sang’s hair is loose and tangled on one side as if someone—Pangzi can also unfortunately guess who—had their hand wound in it. His earbuds are in place, but his eyes are a little glassy.
Pangzi is torn between laughter and despair. “Sangbei’er, you look…”
Liu Sang’s back stiffens, and he glares at Pangzi from behind glasses that are slightly askew.
“...well-rested,” Pangzi finishes. As much as he wants to give Liu Sang shit over this, Pangzi also knows Liu Sang is even pricklier than Li Cu. Pangzi doesn’t want to be the reason this whatever-it-is doesn’t work out. He doesn’t think he could take Wu Xie’s disappointed eyes.
The coffee machine beeps and Pangzi waves a hand toward the cupboard while he takes a mug from the row lining the shelf over the sink. “Go ahead and pick a mug.” He sets his mug on the counter. “Everyone’s got their favorite, so once you pick one, it’s yours.”
Liu Sang frowns. “I won’t be here enough to need my own mug.” He says it firmly, but Pangzi can hear the uncertainty in his words.
So, whatever happened last night after dinner—which Pangzi vehemently does not want to know about—still wasn’t enough to convince Liu Sang he has a place here with them. “Did you forget the part where we’re adopting you?” Pangzi tosses over his shoulder. He doesn’t give Liu Sang a chance to respond before he opens the cupboard and pulls out a mug Wu Xie brought back from Tibet. “If you don’t pick one, Wang Meng will assign you one, and that’s never good. This one is a good match.”
Liu Sang stares at it for a second. “Wu Xie—”
“—would want you to pick a mug.”
“But I—”
“Take the damn mug,” Pangzi says, thrusting the mug into Liu Sang’s hand. There is a pause before Liu Sang finally takes it.
“Thanks.”
Pangzi grunts and fills the mug already on the counter. “Cream in the fridge—there might be some of Wang Meng’s fancy flavored stuff in the door—sugar and cinnamon in that cupboard.” He points with his chin. “Anything else you’re on your own.”
“Black is fine.” Liu Sang fills the mug and follows Pangzi to the bar. He takes a sip before he sets it on the counter and says, “Does everyone get a mug?” As soon as the words are out, his eyes dart away and he looks like he’s going to be sick.
Pangzi makes a face. “Wang Meng and Huo Daofu both have one—though I still think that pain in the ass doesn’t deserve a mug even if he did sort of save Tianzhen’s life. Um, Xiao Hua and Hei Xiazi have their own, but I keep catching Xiaoge trying to throw them away, so I guess that’s something we need to address. Xiao Bai—”
“No,” Liu Sang cuts in with an aggravated sigh. “I mean, do the others get their own mug?”
Pangzi goes from thoughtful to outright confusion. “What others?”
Liu Sang takes a deep breath and, as if it pains him, says, “The other men. The ones they—” He must see the way Pangzi’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, because he cuts off, color flooding his cheeks.
Pangzi takes a long swallow of his coffee—there is definitely not enough caffeine in his system for this—and sets it carefully on the counter. Wu Xie owes him so much hotpot. “Liu Sang,” he says gently. “There are no other men. This is the first time they’ve… you know.”
It’s Liu Sang’s turn for his eyebrows to go up. “First time?”
“Look,” Pangzi says, feeling incredibly put upon. There isn’t enough caffeine in the entire country to make talking about his best friends’ sex lives okay, but it’s also not the worst thing he’s ever done for either of them. “They don’t do this. At least, not that I’ve ever seen, and we live in each other’s pockets. I think I’d notice if there was a parade of men in and out of Tianzhen’s bedroom.”
“But—”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re special?”
Liu Sang’s eyes go wide and dart toward the hallway leading to Wu Xie’s bedroom. “I don’t…” His voice trails off in what sounds like wonder.
Having done his duty as the best friend, Pangzi has had more than enough. Now that it seems like Liu Sang might not actually bolt, Pangzi taps his mug with his own. “So, you got your own mug, but with the way you look, if you’re going to make a habit of this, I should stock some sports drinks for you, too. What’s your favorite flavor?”