And whose fault would that be? [He teases back, only half joking. Itachi was the one with the audacity to keep drilling it into his head that he mattered or something. He warms at the thought and snorts, careful not to jar his ribs again.]
You know. [He starts and stops, pausing before he continues.] Even with my head muddled, I knew you would come if I called. It's been a long time since I knew that about anyone.
๏ผ and, equally as much, it has been a long time since he accepted anyone could rely on him in that manner. he did too well a job disavowing himself. ๏ผ
You have never failed in having immaculate grammar. I took that to mean you were either voluntarily incapacitated — such as by liquor or narcotics — or by some attack, be it physical or the unwitting consumption of an unknown compound. Either scenario would have warranted my presence to safeguard you.
[Either scenario would have warranted my presence to safeguard you.
He can't even summon the willpower to pretend to be offended. He's too busy trying to recover from those words. Wei Wuxian has loved and been loved. His brother, his sister. The Wen. (Lan Zhan.) But all of those loves had come with complications. (The burden he was to his family, the guilt and stress of trying to keep the Wen alive for just one more day, the ache of affection that could only ever live and die with him.
Love has never felt so free before. It has never left him feeling lighter.
Who could have known he had it in him to feel this content?]
I don't know what to do when you say things like that. [He admits in a voice more sincere than not.]
Perhaps I enjoy rendering you speechless. ๏ผ he skims his hand across the worst of the wound, the warmth of chakra sinking deep beneath the skin there as he leans in, presses his mouth to the uninjured side.
then, playfully: ๏ผ It is, after all, a way of ensuring I get some measure of peace.
[He is being attacked on all fronts, how dare he? The kiss? The healing? The sass? How is he supposed to cope with so many things at once? The result is a soft whining sound from the back of his throat]
You...[Are so distracting. What was he gonna say? "I really really like you so much." He thinks and does not say. Instead—] There are better ways to render me speechless now!
He sighs dramatically, but in truth he isn't interested in those things right now, it had merely felt like the funny thing to say. He's much more keen on simply sitting with Itachi and allowing him to continue healing him and maybe helping him with his hair some more too.]
Aiya, fine, fine. [More proof that Wen Qing would have liked him (derogatory.)]
When you're done, will you help me get cleaned up? [He doesn't strictly need the help even if Itachi doesn't heal everything, he could manage well enough on his own, but. Well. It would be nice.]
๏ผ it takes time. he is a better healer than he was, but it is not an area in which he will ever excel — still, by the time wei ying is mostly mended — at least as far as one might be able to tell of him. healing the structural damage that lurks beneath skin now largely unscarred is difficult — but he hastened it, at least.
the majority of the time was ultimately spent with wei ying laying on his belly, arms cushioning his head, drifting in and out of sleep as itachi worked, and once he is satisfied and low enough on chakra that further satisfaction could not be so easily won, he gives the man a gentle nudge. ๏ผ
Come. I will help you clean your hair.
๏ผ rinsing the blood from it with saline is one thing. it is quite another to properly wash and oil it. ๏ผ
[He lets out a soft noise of sleepy contentment and follows Itachi up. He's almost entirely pain free now, and what remains should mend on its own given time, so it's only the lingering peaceful rest that clings to him as he walks.
Though cleaner than it was before Itachi rinsed it, he's sure his hair is still probably a mess, and he's glad to have the help. If it were left up to him, he'd probably just throw it into a bun to be dealt with later.]
๏ผ luckily it's not up to him, because itachi is a fastidious bitch.
he turns the water to a pleasant heat, and while it's knocking laboriously in the old pipes he helps the man out of the remainder of his clothing and then strips as well with the sort of brisk efficiency that makes it the opposite of an erotic affair. his own hair is taken down from its loose ponytail, and once he's satisfied with the water he ushers wei ying into the cubicle.
they've been casually naked in one another's company before. very nearly, it was a tenet of one of their very first meetings, that day in the still waters of taeum's endless rooms some years ago. he expects that it should feel differently now that the context of their acquaintance with one another has... shifted. given the fact they had spent half the night not so terribly long ago caught up in each other — is not the next logical step a matter of nakedness?
but it doesn't feel so. it just feels like any of the thousand times they've been engaged in some quiet activity or other together. fundamentally no different save their state of undress alone than the times he's stayed up reading while wei ying has slept on the next futon over, or worked on talismans, or chattered about any of the many things that have caught his attention.
curious.
but not curious enough for a comment, it seems. instead, he remains silent as he directs wei ying to stand under the spray, and uses the shower nozzle to dampen his hair anew. ๏ผ
[Like Itachi, Wei Wuxian expects to feel something when they strip and step into the shower together. And he does feel something, but it isn't nervous or anticipatory excitement, instead only more of that same comfortable warmth from before. He relaxes into the feeling, closing his eyes and letting Itachi take over.
It's always felt nice on the rare occasion that Itachi had run his hands through his hair or brushed it out for him, and the warm water followed by the long painful day only enhances the contentment in allowing Itachi to care for him in this way.
He does as Itachi directs once his hair is thoroughly soaked, shifting his head up or down as needed and keeping his eyes closed. The passage of time fades away as he focuses only on the feeling of Itachi's fingers gently working through his hair.]
๏ผ it was uncanny, when he was young, how often shisui had a sense of him. he had always known as if by some extant sense when a mission had gone poorly. perhaps it was his own skill as a sensory ninja, or perhaps he had heard things as a matter of rank.
whatever the reason — after tenma's death, he had been there. itachi had made it all the way back to the village without wiping away his friend's blood, and shisui had been the one to catch him a half-step inside the uchiha compound and whisk him away to clean him up. while he did it, he'd talked about — nothing in particular. the weather that day. a funny cloud he'd seen. itachi had tuned in and out of the conversation without commenting at all.
and shisui had — understood. he had neither needed nor asked for a reply. at the time, itachi had not thought to consider the likelihood that shisui had no one to support him in that same way when he had woken the sharingan. now, it's nearly all he can think about.
(he should have been a better friend. he should have — )
these are dissimilar situations, circumstances. but it evokes the memory all the same, and itachi finds himself talking while he works, lathering up the shampoo and speaking in a low, measured voice about the mission. the cubits he's taken in so far. their individual personalities and names. where they came from, and how their recovery is going.
and by the time he's done, and is wringing out the last vestiges of conditioner from the man's hair — ๏ผ
If you're hungry, I can have a clone make you something simple to eat. Otherwise, I would recommend sleeping.
[It's a strange thing to be the silent one as Itachi talks, but he's content to listen without adding much, taking the time to revel in the soothing quality of Itachi's voice. By the time they're finishing up, Wei Wuxian feels half asleep standing up, and he shakes his head, turning down the option of a meal he knows he wouldn't be able to stay awake for.]
Let's go to bed. [He hopes Itachi will join him. Either way, he's fairly sure he'll be unconscious the moment his head hits the pillow and it's such a rare occurrence for him, he wants to indulge.]
๏ผ he does summon a clone — but rather than dispatch it to the kitchen, he simply uses it to go ensure the bed is tidied up from their earlier ministrations as he hands wei ying a towel. himself — he towels off with brisk efficiency, and leaves it wrapped low on his hips.
from there, it is a simple matter to usher his companion off to the neatly made bed.
he will remain with wei ying until the morning — but he already suspects sleep will elude him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You know. [He starts and stops, pausing before he continues.] Even with my head muddled, I knew you would come if I called. It's been a long time since I knew that about anyone.
What gave it away anyway?
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You have never failed in having immaculate grammar. I took that to mean you were either voluntarily incapacitated — such as by liquor or narcotics — or by some attack, be it physical or the unwitting consumption of an unknown compound. Either scenario would have warranted my presence to safeguard you.
๏ผ he could do nothing else but go. ๏ผ
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He can't even summon the willpower to pretend to be offended. He's too busy trying to recover from those words. Wei Wuxian has loved and been loved. His brother, his sister. The Wen. (Lan Zhan.) But all of those loves had come with complications. (The burden he was to his family, the guilt and stress of trying to keep the Wen alive for just one more day, the ache of affection that could only ever live and die with him.
Love has never felt so free before. It has never left him feeling lighter.
Who could have known he had it in him to feel this content?]
I don't know what to do when you say things like that. [He admits in a voice more sincere than not.]
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then, playfully: ๏ผ It is, after all, a way of ensuring I get some measure of peace.
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You...[Are so distracting. What was he gonna say? "I really really like you so much." He thinks and does not say. Instead—] There are better ways to render me speechless now!
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๏ผ let him work, wei ying. ๏ผ
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He sighs dramatically, but in truth he isn't interested in those things right now, it had merely felt like the funny thing to say. He's much more keen on simply sitting with Itachi and allowing him to continue healing him and maybe helping him with his hair some more too.]
Aiya, fine, fine. [More proof that Wen Qing would have liked him (derogatory.)]
When you're done, will you help me get cleaned up? [He doesn't strictly need the help even if Itachi doesn't heal everything, he could manage well enough on his own, but. Well. It would be nice.]
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๏ผ it takes time. he is a better healer than he was, but it is not an area in which he will ever excel — still, by the time wei ying is mostly mended — at least as far as one might be able to tell of him. healing the structural damage that lurks beneath skin now largely unscarred is difficult — but he hastened it, at least.
the majority of the time was ultimately spent with wei ying laying on his belly, arms cushioning his head, drifting in and out of sleep as itachi worked, and once he is satisfied and low enough on chakra that further satisfaction could not be so easily won, he gives the man a gentle nudge. ๏ผ
Come. I will help you clean your hair.
๏ผ rinsing the blood from it with saline is one thing. it is quite another to properly wash and oil it. ๏ผ
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Though cleaner than it was before Itachi rinsed it, he's sure his hair is still probably a mess, and he's glad to have the help. If it were left up to him, he'd probably just throw it into a bun to be dealt with later.]
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he turns the water to a pleasant heat, and while it's knocking laboriously in the old pipes he helps the man out of the remainder of his clothing and then strips as well with the sort of brisk efficiency that makes it the opposite of an erotic affair. his own hair is taken down from its loose ponytail, and once he's satisfied with the water he ushers wei ying into the cubicle.
they've been casually naked in one another's company before. very nearly, it was a tenet of one of their very first meetings, that day in the still waters of taeum's endless rooms some years ago. he expects that it should feel differently now that the context of their acquaintance with one another has... shifted. given the fact they had spent half the night not so terribly long ago caught up in each other — is not the next logical step a matter of nakedness?
but it doesn't feel so. it just feels like any of the thousand times they've been engaged in some quiet activity or other together. fundamentally no different save their state of undress alone than the times he's stayed up reading while wei ying has slept on the next futon over, or worked on talismans, or chattered about any of the many things that have caught his attention.
curious.
but not curious enough for a comment, it seems. instead, he remains silent as he directs wei ying to stand under the spray, and uses the shower nozzle to dampen his hair anew. ๏ผ
no subject
It's always felt nice on the rare occasion that Itachi had run his hands through his hair or brushed it out for him, and the warm water followed by the long painful day only enhances the contentment in allowing Itachi to care for him in this way.
He does as Itachi directs once his hair is thoroughly soaked, shifting his head up or down as needed and keeping his eyes closed. The passage of time fades away as he focuses only on the feeling of Itachi's fingers gently working through his hair.]
no subject
whatever the reason — after tenma's death, he had been there. itachi had made it all the way back to the village without wiping away his friend's blood, and shisui had been the one to catch him a half-step inside the uchiha compound and whisk him away to clean him up. while he did it, he'd talked about — nothing in particular. the weather that day. a funny cloud he'd seen. itachi had tuned in and out of the conversation without commenting at all.
and shisui had — understood. he had neither needed nor asked for a reply. at the time, itachi had not thought to consider the likelihood that shisui had no one to support him in that same way when he had woken the sharingan. now, it's nearly all he can think about.
(he should have been a better friend. he should have — )
these are dissimilar situations, circumstances. but it evokes the memory all the same, and itachi finds himself talking while he works, lathering up the shampoo and speaking in a low, measured voice about the mission. the cubits he's taken in so far. their individual personalities and names. where they came from, and how their recovery is going.
and by the time he's done, and is wringing out the last vestiges of conditioner from the man's hair — ๏ผ
If you're hungry, I can have a clone make you something simple to eat. Otherwise, I would recommend sleeping.
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Let's go to bed. [He hopes Itachi will join him. Either way, he's fairly sure he'll be unconscious the moment his head hits the pillow and it's such a rare occurrence for him, he wants to indulge.]
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from there, it is a simple matter to usher his companion off to the neatly made bed.
he will remain with wei ying until the morning — but he already suspects sleep will elude him.
there is much to think about. ๏ผ