Work Text:
“Welcome to Joyful Flourish Cat Cafe,” Mo Fan says, barely glancing up from the cat he’s untangling from curtains. Again. He’ll need to trim her claws soon, but it’s poor form to do that while customers are present. “Let me know how I can help you.”
“Green tea and cranberry-walnut scones,” says one of the men. The other adds, “When you’ve finished helping the cat.”
Mo Fan nods, then remembers that he can’t assume they’re looking at him. “It’ll be a few minutes for the tea.” The tabby he’s freed from her self-created problems springs free with a soft mew. Mo Fan shakes his head and he stands; that one is always getting into trouble.
He recognizes the men now that he can see their faces. One’s fairly nondescript, except for the unwavering intensity of his attention behind his bangs; the other has silvery hair and attitude. The most interesting thing about them is their matching rings and their casual disregard for personal space when it comes to each other. Mo Fan has seen them every couple of weeks since he started this job, always on Sunday afternoons, but unlike every other regular customer they don’t have a standard order.
It’s fair, he supposes as he goes to start the tea and pull scones out. They’re well and truly only here for the cats.
Mo Fan hasn’t asked them why they don’t adopt one. A co-worker did once, and he overheard the response:
“Our jobs mean we travel a lot,” the silver-haired one had said with a sigh. “It wouldn’t be fair to a cat to be left alone so much.”
“Some of them like being left alone,” his co-worker had said.
The intense one shakes his head. “We would want a social cat.”
The silver-haired one had spread his hands like And that’s that, and the subject had never come up again.
Today, when Mo Fan brings them a tray with their tea and scones, they’re talking about some competition they were part of over the weekend. That’s what their jobs are, as best Mo Fan can tell. They spend most of the year competing in a sports league, travelling between cities, and then come to the cat cafe to decompress when they get home after a match.
“We have a good shot at victory this year, Jiexi,” the silver-haired man says. “So long as we can overcome Tyranny—”
“We’ve done it before.” Wang Jiexi frowns at the notebook placed between them, though Mo Fan doesn’t know why he bothers when a black cat has graciously flopped down on top of the paper, sprawling out to present her void-like tummy for scritches Wang Jiexi is absently providing.
Mo Fan sets the tray down on a part of the table not occupied by either cats or the men’s belongings, says, “Let me know if you need anything else,” and retreats back to attending to his cats and ensuring the cafe has enough baked goods for the rest of the day. Their conversation fades from his mind, contextless and irrelevant to his life.
Two months later, the silver-haired man comes in alone on a Thursday. Mo Fan squints at him, and his body language must project loud confusion, because the man (Fang Shiqian. He’s learned that name over the months.) sighs and says, “Jiexi says that if I’m retiring and want a cat, I should pick it out myself, since I’ll be the one taking care of it.”
Mo Fan nods, thinks about the cats currently at the cafe and what he knows about these men, and says, “Do you want any tea?”
“Chai, thanks,” Fang Shiqian says, his attention still mostly on the cats.
That’s fine. Mo Fan doesn’t like it when people look at him too closely, anyway. It’s part of why he works weekends and doesn’t care if he ends up taking solo shifts on slow days. He makes the chai, brings out a mug, and braces himself to put on his customer service mask. “Do you know what kind of cat you’re looking for? Old, young, energetic, cuddly…?”
Fang Shiqian has a very expressive face, even when Mo Fan is looking slightly past him and Fang Shiqian is still gazing at the cats. Right now, Fang Shiqian’s face is twisted up in resignation as he admits, “I was hoping seeing the options would help.”
Mo Fan hesitates. He’s not supposed to play favorites, and he’s not supposed to push customers towards adopting anyone in particular, but… Fang Shiqian and Wang Jiexi are regulars, and they always treat every single cat with the same affection, so…
“Xiancai,” Mo Fan starts, and abruptly Fang Shiqian is looking at him with horrible intensity and Mo Fan’s words stumble to a halt. Wordlessly, Mo Fan points at the calico queen hiding in her lair. It’s a box he’s carefully cut a hole in and placed in the middle of a planter, where the three-legged cat can observe without being seen.
Fang Shiqian stands up, leaving his chai behind, and lies down on the floor to stare into Xiancai’s lair.
He stays there, utterly still, murmuring to the cat, for fifteen minutes before Xiancai deigns to slink out and stare at him with all the suspicion her single eye can muster.
Fang Shiqian laughs, low and delighted, and Xiancai doesn’t shy away. “Jiexi needs to meet her first,” Fang Shiqian says, already texting a photo to his… boyfriend? Partner? Husband? Mo Fan has never asked, but it’s clear that they’re together. “But you’ve got good instincts, Mo Fan. If Jiexi likes her, we’ll take her home as soon as we get the paperwork done.”
Mo Fan nods. “Thanks.” Then, as he contemplates making Fang Shiqian another cup of chai, since the last one got cold, he admits, “She’s one of my favorites.”
“I’ll make sure you see she’s taken care of,” Fang Shiqian promises.
A week later, Fang Shiqian takes Xiancai home (“She’s already got the perfect name, Jiexi! It’s fate.”) and gives Mo Fan his WeChat. They do not talk about anything except cats. Much of the time, they don’t talk at all, instead exchanging photos of cats, whether the ones they care for or those they meet on the street.
Some of the photos Fang Shiqian sends are captioned things like “Husband and Daughter 😻” and show Wang Jiexi asleep on the couch, Xiancai curled up on his chest. Others are of Xiancai among plants, with captions like “spot the difference 😂”. Occasionally Fang Shiqian himself features in the photos, whether they’re selfies or taken by Wang Jiexi.
Mo Fan returns photos of the cat cafe, even though Fang Shiqian and Wang Jiexi still show up (“Date night is date night,” Wang Jiexi says placidly while Fang Shiqian rolls his eyes, though Mo Fan sees Fang Shiqian smiling too). He also sends more photos of street cats, because he spends more time walking through the city than Fang Shiqian does, and cats have a fondness for Mo Fan that he can’t explain.
He doesn’t bother trying, instead using it to maintain this simple friendship with someone who doesn’t pressure him to speak or be anything other than he is.
Almost a year later, Mo Fan gets a crash course in Pro Glory, courtesy of Team Happy.
He gets why it’s important, since they’re going to be playing in the Challenger League soon, but Mo Fan doesn’t really care about the pro teams. Happy is a year away from facing any of them; why not focus on the here and now?
Then Tiny Herb comes up and Mo Fan sits up fast enough that his chair creaks, which means everyone turns to look at him.
Mo Fan is staring at the team photo hard enough that he doesn’t notice or care. “Fang Shiqian’s husband is the captain of a pro Glory team?” he asks, and the room descends into chaos.
“How do you know that?” Su Mucheng asks, fingers frantic on her phone as she presumably texts the men in question. “How do you know Fang Shiqian?”
Chen Guo is having conniptions, Mo Fan thinks, while Qiao Yifan has his hands pressed over his face and is calling himself an idiot for not noticing. Everyone else is various shades of baffled, except Ye Xiu, who raps the table and says, “Captain Wang’s marital status is not the point of this briefing.”
It calms the team down temporarily, which is why Mo Fan notices when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Fang Shiqian, calling him for the first time in their friendship, and Mo Fan picks up.
The first thing Fang Shiqian says is, “How do you know Su Mucheng?”
“Ye Xiu’s Glory team,” Mo Fan says, leaning away from Su Mucheng’s grabby hands while Ye Xiu sighs loudly. “It’s why I’m not working at the cat cafe anymore.”
Fang Shiqian is silent for a moment. Then, very decisively, he says, “You’re going to friend me in Glory. I want to know what Ye Qiu found in you.”
He hangs up before Mo Fan can agree or disagree. His phone pings a moment later with a character ID. Mo Fan locks his phone and puts it away. Then he pulls his hoodie further over his head, slouches down into his chair and mumbles, to nobody in particular, “Sorry about that.”
“If we’re through with interruptions… Yifan, come and give an overview of your old team.”
Attention moves from Mo Fan to Qiao Yifan, which Mo Fan appreciates even though Qiao Yifan is clearly quivering. But he steadies himself and begins to talk, so Mo Fan thinks Ye Xiu has a good read on him.
Mo Fan listens, piecing together information about the life Fang Shiqian and Wang Jiexi had that he’d never seen, only heard bits and pieces of scattered conversation about. Tiny Herb are champions. Xiancai’s name was perfect because their whole team is named after plants. Fang Shiqian retired last year.
It’s interesting.
It’s good, he thinks, to have a new dimension to his friendship with Fang Shiqian.
Even if he is dreading Fang Shiqian’s reaction to learning that Mo Fan is the notorious Deception.
It turns out better than he thinks. Fang Shiqian laughs, mostly, and says, “Of course Ye Qiu is the person who managed to convince you to try playing pro.” Pro players don’t look down on scrap pickers the way Glory’s general population does, it seems, and that’s a relief.
Fang Shiqian also then decides to challenge him to a duel, and Mo Fan is hard-pressed to keep away from his Paladin, which is not what he’s used to. But then, this is what it means to have been a pro player and—to hear Qiao Yifan tell it, with Ye Xiu and Su Mucheng backing him up—the best Paladin in the GPA.
“Learn everything you can from Ye Qiu,” Fang Shiqian tells him when the match finally ends. “He’s the best of us.”
Mo Fan glances around the room, but his new teammates are polite enough not to be listening in. “Even though he kept hunting me until I agreed to join?”
“He’s shameless. He’s also a fantastic player and a good teacher.” Fang Shiqian’s Paladin pats the air next to Deception’s shoulder. “You’re good. You could be great.”
Despite himself, Mo Fan’s heart stirs at that. Quietly, he says, “Okay.”
It’ll take time to let go of his grudge, but—
He believes it when Fang Shiqian assures him it’ll be worth it.
(A year later, and a year after that, trophies raised in the air in the midst of cheers and a team that’s become family, Mo Fan knows:
It was.)