Work Text:
The first sign is the squinting.
The squinting actually began long ago, but no one really noticed because it simply blended in with his perpetually furrowed brow.
The headaches are the second clue.
"Fucking hell," Feng Xin mutters, chasing two Advil with a long drink of water. He stands at the counter, eyes closed and palms braced on the cool surface, as though maybe he can cause the ache behind his eyes to subside through sheer force of will.
From his seat at the table, Mu Qing watches his boyfriend out of the corner of his eye. It hurts his heart a little to see him in pain. It always has, even when they were young and stupid and Feng Xin's pain was a direct result of Mu Qing's fist meeting his jaw. It's only natural to feel that way now, and to feel it so much more acutely, when their hearts and lives have been intertwined for so long.
Feng Xin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, and okay, Mu Qing's heart hurts more than a little for him.
He doesn't say any of that, though.
"All those pills are going to give you an ulcer, you know. You've been taking them for what, two weeks straight?"
Feng Xin turns tired eyes to meet his. "Thank you, Dr. Mu. Do I have to pick up a prescription for your sass, or is it part of the visit today?"
He tries but can't contain a tiny snort of laughter. "It's included free of charge. I'm a very generous medical provider."
There's a smile on Feng Xin's face as he flops down in the seat adjacent, though it's scrubbed away when he rubs his face with both palms. "Try two years," he says with another sigh.
"Two years what?"
"This headache. I've had it for like, two years. At least."
Mu Qing's pen clatters to the table in his surprise. "You've had a headache for two years?"
"Maybe?" Feng Xin shrugs. "I don't know. It's just kind of always there."
A twinge of fear slices razor-sharp through Mu Qing's nerves. He covers it with a gaze that could freeze lava, his voice lowering to match. "Feng Xin. Love of my life." The sweet words are a stark contrast to the chill in his tone, and he watches Feng Xin's eyes widen. "Are you telling me that you've had a headache for two years and you never did anything about it, including telling me?"
"I always, um...just take some Advil and, you know, power through." He shrugs again, helplessly. "I didn't think it was a big deal."
"Not a big – oh my god, you absolute dumbass, what if you have a brain tumor?" Mu Qing screeches. Feng Xin winces against the noise, and a curl of guilt settles in Mu Qing's stomach.
"It's not a fucking brain tumor, Mu Qing, what the hell?!"
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "You don't know that."
"I do, and it's not. It's just a bullshit nuisance." He reaches for the bill on top of the stack in front of Mu Qing. "What's the damage this month?"
He's obviously attempting to change the subject, and Mu Qing lets him, mostly because clue number three is showing itself very clearly in the way Feng Xin squints at the paper before holding it out at arm's length to read it.
I'm in love with an idiot, Mu Qing thinks to himself, almost-fondly. "You need glasses, doofus," he says aloud.
Feng Xin looks up at him and blinks. "What?"
"Look at you." Mu Qing juts his chin in Feng Xin's direction. "Look at how you're holding that, and your eyes are all squinty. You need reading glasses." He indulges in a little smirk as he stretches his hand across the table, palm up, and wiggles his fingers. "That'll be a $40 copay for my expertise. Check payable to Dr. Mu."
"No one writes checks anymore. And I don't need glasses."
"Your two-year headache and premature wrinkles from squinting say otherwise."
Feng Xin scowls at him. "I do not want to wear glasses."
"Is there something wrong with wearing glasses, Feng Xin?" Mu Qing arches one perfect eyebrow over his own silver frames. He wears contacts during the day - because his eyeliner game is on point, thank you very much, and he won't let even the most fashionable glasses detract from that - but as soon as he gets home, when it's just the two of them and their cat, the contacts come out and the glasses go on. He knows he looks good either way. He thought his boyfriend felt the same.
Feng Xin's scowl deepens. "They're a pain in the ass, and you know it. Besides, I'd look like shit in them." He waves a hand idly in Mu Qing's direction. "You look amazing, obviously."
"Obviously." Mu Qing preens internally. "But how about you let me decide whether you look good or not, hmm?"
Feng Xin is silent.
"Please just go to the eye doctor, A-Xin," Mu Qing says, his voice uncommonly gentle.
The tone is enough to make Feng Xin look away. And after a moment: "Fine, I'll make an appointment."
Mu Qing smiles just a little bit smugly before returning to paying the bills.
♡♡♡
It takes forever to get the appointment, but of course Mu Qing was right. Feng Xin can hit a perfect bullseye at seventy yards but can't see shit up close. He passes on getting glasses made at the eye doctor's and instead finds a four-pack of readers at the local big box store on his way home.
Just because he'd sent Mu Qing a text with a photo of the box of glasses does not mean that Mu Qing is prepared for the sight of Feng Xin wearing said glasses when he arrives home from work.
The apartment smells divine, warm and cozy and spicy, and Mu Qing breathes it in happily as he toes his shoes off at the door.
"Hey, baobei!" Feng Xin calls from the kitchen. Mu Qing smiles at the endearment.
He turns the corner from the foyer and has approximately 2.5 seconds to admire the frankly delicious rear view of his boyfriend, in slouchy sweats and a too-tight old t-shirt that perfectly displays his broad, muscled shoulders and thick biceps. Mu Qing spares one thought for how squeezable his ass looks in those sweats before Feng Xin turns away from the stove to greet him with a sheepish smile and a look of tentative hope in his eyes.
Eyes shining behind brand-new rectangular black frames.
Mu Qing's mouth goes dry.
"What do you think?" Feng Xin asks.
What does he think? Mu Qing thinks he's never seen a more attractive sight in his life.
Feng Xin might give off the impression of a vapid musclehead to a stranger at first glance, but Mu Qing knows better than anyone that he's anything but. He's headstrong and impulsive and lacks common sense sometimes, but he's very intelligent, sharper than most, even if Mu Qing calls him a dumbass. Repeatedly. With love.
In front of him now stands a strange dichotomy, the archer's body he knows every inch of by heart and the familiar face he loves transformed somehow to that of…a scholar, maybe, or perhaps a professor. A doctoral student writing his thesis on the velocity of arrows shot toward targets at varying distances. Mu Qing doesn't know. Mu Qing doesn't know anything anymore beyond the fact that a cheap pair of Costco readers has taken his already-gorgeous boyfriend and turned him into the sexiest man he's ever laid eyes on.
It's more than a little bit ridiculous what those glasses are doing to him. (He'll deal with that little awakening later.)
He never does answer Feng Xin's question, just crosses the distance in two long strides and crashes their lips together in a fierce, frenzied kiss. Their teeth knock against each other and Feng Xin makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, but it turns to a groan in just a moment when Mu Qing's tongue brushes past the seam of his lips to sweep into his mouth.
Even with his eyes closed, the vision of Feng Xin in glasses is seared into Mu Qing's memory like a brand.
The thought flickers for one fleeting moment that it's truly unfair how incredible he looks in cheap reading glasses before a strange, possessive fire roars to life in Mu Qing's chest, whispering a reminder that no one else gets to kiss him this way, touch him this way, love him this way. Only you.
"Yes," he breathes against Feng Xin's lips. "Mine."
Feng Xin, bless his heart, just goes with it. "Always, Qing-er," he says softly. "I'm all yours."
Mu Qing's hands are already wrapped around Feng Xin's waist, palms splayed at the small of his back. He uses the leverage to pull their bodies closer, gasping at the delicious friction and delighting in Feng Xin's squeak of surprise.
Feng Xin disentangles one hand from Mu Qing's hair and leans back just enough to wrench the glasses from his face and toss them to the counter. They skitter across the surface before bouncing off the rice cooker and coming to a stop.
If Mu Qing could think clearly, he'd scold his boyfriend for not taking better care of the glasses he bought only a few hours ago. But he's not, so when he looks into honey-gold eyes and glances down at kiss-slick lips, he really can't be blamed for suddenly having a one-track mind.
He peeks at the stove. The soup looks delicious, but Feng Xin looks even better.
"I think dinner can wait."
Feng Xin tilts his head slightly and his brow furrows. "I mean, it's pretty much ready now."
Mu Qing maintains eye contact as he snakes a hand between them to palm Feng Xin through his sweats. "A-Xin." He grips just a bit tighter. "Dinner can wait."
His eyes widen, and Feng Xin turns quickly to move the pot off the burner and switch off the stove.
Mu Qing is already headed for the bedroom. He sends a meaningful look over his shoulder. "And put the glasses back on."
"Yes, sir," Feng Xin says, his grin growing sharper as understanding dawns. "Definitely can do."
♡♡♡
Mu Qing has had glasses since he was in fifth grade and realized he couldn't see the blackboard from his seat anymore. He's mostly worn contacts since high school, but since he still wears glasses at home and always has a pair ready as backup in case a contact rips, he knows how to take care of them.
Nowadays, his glasses come from Zenni or any of the other discount online eyeglass retailers - high style on a budget, plus a middle finger to corporate greed. ("Don't tell me you've never heard about the Luxottica glasses monopoly! Do you live under a rock, A-Xin?") He rotates through four pairs of very stylish glasses, kept safe in their cases and cleaned regularly.
Feng Xin has had glasses for exactly six days and he's already broken two pairs.
One pair broke when he sat on them, a rookie mistake that Mu Qing teased him for mercilessly until Feng Xin found a rather creative (and enjoyable) way to shut him up.
Another pair was the casualty of a tussle over what to watch on Netflix, when Mu Qing elbowed him right in the face in the struggle to commandeer the remote. The glasses snapped in two, one side dropping to Feng Xin's lap and the other still dangling from his ear, his eyes wide with surprise and a tiny cut on his nose. Mu Qing made the executive decision to skip Netflix and head straight to chill to make up for it. He's pretty sure Feng Xin didn't mind.
The other day, for reasons unknown, the glasses ended up dropping into the garbage disposal and were saved in the nick of time. He was utterly disgusted when Feng Xin rinsed them off and put them back on, but somehow, somehow, he still looked so goddamn sexy that Mu Qing ended up on his knees right there in the kitchen.
Basically, broken or nearly-broken glasses equals sex, so neither of them can be terribly upset about the demise of a few inexpensive pairs of readers.
They've already bought two more four-packs at Costco anyway, one in a tortoiseshell color that makes Feng Xin's amber eyes pop in a way that does things to Mu Qing's heart (and other organs).
Mu Qing still sighs every time he hears a pair clatter to the floor in the kitchen or fall off the nightstand on the other side of the bed.
Oh, well. At least they're cheap.
♡♡♡
Mu Qing takes off his glasses to sleep, of course, but he also takes them off when they're in bed for other activities and very much awake. Feng Xin never goes so far away that he can't still see him clearly without them.
Besides, his hands have mapped every ridge and plane of Feng Xin's body; he's catalogued every freckle and scar. There isn't an inch of his boyfriend that Mu Qing doesn't know by heart in vivid detail, even without glasses, even with his eyes closed.
Feng Xin, however, leaves his on. Sex absolutely does not require reading glasses, but he looks so damn good with them on (and he knows what it does to Mu Qing when he wears them, an advantage he never meant to cede to Feng Xin in the first place, dammit) that the glasses come to bed with them now.
"Mmm," Feng Xin hums against his skin, Mu Qing's thigh twitching in response. "I didn't know what I was missing without these." He taps one corner of his reading glasses with his free hand before returning his palm to the jut of Mu Qing's hip. "I can see every"–he pauses to lick a lazy stripe from mid-shaft to tip–"little"–his tongue darts out to lap a drop of precum from the slit–"detail now."
Mu Qing shudders, feeling very exposed and very scrutinized, albeit in a gentle way, full of playful teasing and endless love. He's also pretty sure that's not exactly how myopia works. He starts to correct him, but Feng Xin has already taken him into the warmth of his mouth with no more preamble, swirling his tongue around the head and pressing it to the underside, just the way he knows Mu Qing likes.
Feng Xin looks up at him over those damn glasses, never breaking eye contact as he hollows his cheeks and swallows him down, and suddenly Mu Qing forgets what he was going to say.
♡♡♡
There are five glasses cases in the top drawer of Mu Qing's nightstand. (There were four, but Feng Xin looked so fucking sexy in rectangular black frames that Mu Qing had to order a similar pair for himself. He knows for a fact that Feng Xin finds them just as attractive on him.)
On the opposite side of the bed, in the top drawer of Feng Xin's nightstand, is a little basket overflowing with reading glasses. No cases, no order, just a dozen and a half black or tortoiseshell readers stuffed in haphazardly, ready to be used (or lost, or broken, as many have been already) any time.
This is who they are now, Mu Qing supposes. At least they both look hot in glasses.
He glances over at Feng Xin on the other side of the sofa where he's leafing through an old issue of Archery Focus Magazine. So effortlessly handsome, and his, all his.
Mu Qing's thumb finds the brand-new band on his ring finger and he thrills a little at the feel of the cool metal. Mine, he thinks, as his heart swells. Forever.
In a blink, the magazine is on the floor and his legs are bracketing Feng Xin's hips. Surprised amber eyes look up at him above a lopsided grin, while strong hands smooth up and down his thighs.
"Someone's eag–" Feng Xin starts, but his words are swallowed in a kiss.
Their glasses clack together harshly when he moves to deepen the kiss, and Mu Qing breathes a laugh against Feng Xin's lips before leaning back and first removing his own glasses, then his boyfriend's (no, his fiancé's!).
Feng Xin is grinning when Mu Qing dives back in to kiss him, but that doesn't deter him in the least.
There are no more headaches or premature wrinkles from squinting, and that's a good thing.
Instead, there are two pairs of glasses on the end table in opposite prescriptions, two matching rings on their fingers, two hearts beating a shared rhythm.
If this is who they are now, Mu Qing truly can't complain. (He still will, just not about this.)
Honestly, it's pretty perfect.
Feng Xin's hands venture warm and sure up his back beneath his shirt, pulling him closer, and Mu Qing sinks happily into his embrace.
Yes, he thinks. Perfect.