Thread by @bingjiuwus

#bingjiu divorce AU extra:

"What are you thinking about now, gege?"

Those soft words whispered into his ear woke Shen Jiu back to the land of the living. He must have drifted off somehow in the car, his hand clasped tight in Binghe's.

https://twitter.com/bingjiuwus/status/1592338837682130944

"Nothing in particular," he said, but the hopeful look in Binghe's eyes made him stall.

"What," SJ said dryly. "What could you possibly want to hear from me now."

His husband brought his hand up to his lips, kissing his fingers as tenderly as if they were made of jade.

"Everything," he said reverently. "I want to know everything about you."

Some things truly never changed... his husband's undying fascination with him being one, and SJ's heart threatening to burst out of his chest in response the other.

To think there was so much love in the world. To think someone loved him so much, and always had.

"Well," he said. "I was thinking about how much I missed your cooking. I haven't had home-cooked food in five years."

(Not true, strictly. The aunties and grandmothers at his old complex often gave him batches of pickles and side dishes when he helped them out with their taxes for free. But it wasn't the same. He never went to eat at their homes for dinner, nor did he invite anyone to his.)

"Oh, _gege_," Binghe said, full of emotion. SJ didn't know if that emotion was pity, grief or something else entirely. It was just -

"I missed you too, dummy," SJ said. There was nothing more to it.

"Never again," Binghe said sternly, fiercely, holding onto SJ's hands with all his might. "You're not allowed to starve yourself just because I couldn't take care of you."

_Idiot, who's taking care of whom exactly,_ SJ wanted to retort. But the look in his husband's eyes was serious, and while SJ wouldn't consider what he did to himself starvation, living on a diet of cheap noodles and cheaper coffee was hardly the picture of stability either.

So he just said, "Okay," and was relieved when Binghe smiled again, only for the man to turn his head to the driver and order,

"Stop the car right now."

*

SJ hadn't known what would come after their tearful reunion at the airport, but an impromptu grocery shopping trip wasn't it either.

For once he kept his mouth shut and just pushed the cart while Binghe marched through the aisles with the precision of a military sergeant and picked up enough food to feed a small army.

The grocery store was his husband's happy place. Why gripe about what he was doing and ruin the mood?

(Not to mention SJ was curious about what he would make, and hungry. The shitty airport coffee hadn't done much for his appetite beyond make him cranky.)

After, the driver took them not back to the grand villa in the suburbs that had been SJ's brief home - and he'd imagined Binghe stayed all the time - but a high-rise apartment building.

"I actually stay here most of the time," Binghe admitted as they went up on his private elevator (la dee da), heavy grocery bags at his feet.

SJ couldn't help tease him a little. "Please tell me there's no one waiting for you up there," he said, and nearly burst out laughing when Binghe looked stricken at the idea.

"I never brought anyone here, I swear," he said desperately. "Gege, believe me..."

SJ hummed. "Sure you didn't."

Did he actually care that his husband had slept with people while they'd been apart? Partially yes, partially no.

Objectively speaking SJ knew he had no right to give a damn, considering he'd broken up with Binghe one-sidedly to begin with and given him nothing in turn. His husband had had every right to do whatever the hell he wanted after their divorce.

But he'd also been his first and only love, and it was hard to think about his husband in other people's arms, their scents all over him, without feeling at least a little cagey and jealous.

Sha Hualing had seemed sanguine about going from friends-with-benefits to just plain friends with Binghe. What about everyone else?

(Not like they had a choice either way.)

"I told you I didn't." A pair of arms caged SJ against the elevator wall suddenly, breaking his train of thought. "Why don't you believe me?" Binghe all but hissed, staring down at SJ while looking thoroughly wounded and ravishing, black hair falling into his eyes.

Oh, look at this overgrown puppy. SJ tilted his head back to look up at him, not intimidated at all. "Got something to say?" he drawled, and felt a delightful shiver up his spine when his husband _growled_ and leaned in close -

Only for the elevator door to open and SJ to duck out from beneath the cage of his arms and exit, leaving Binghe with a dumbfounded expression and all the grocery bags to take out on his own.

Did he think it'd be that easy? Nice try!

*

The apartment Binghe spent most of his actual time at was predictably, very sleek, very modern, and very masculine. Looking at it at first glance you wouldn't be able to tell someone even lived here, much less used the kitchen - which SJ knew his husband did.

After receiving a stare that promised retribution (ha! as if), he wandered around the place in his bare feet while Binghe started cooking, unabashedly walking into his bedroom the first chance he got.

His husband's bed was huge, with all-black silken sheets and a firm mattress.

SJ may or may not have looked through his closet and dressers to ensure he didn't find some stray piece of lingerie or some article of clothing decisively not in his husband's size before he felt at ease at last.

(What?)

The en suite bathroom proved much the same - products that belonged only to Binghe and no one else, not even a spare toothbrush.

Honestly, the bathroom alone was bigger than SJ's whole apartment, the bedroom excessively large as well. The whole apartment was huge, and neat... and terribly lonely.

It was too much space for one person, especially that giant bed and the giant tub in the bathroom.

Even the shower - two people (or more, SJ thought with a flush as he was reminded of some of the rumours surrounding his husband) could shower in there comfortably, wash each other's backs...

His husband must have been lonely these past years, despite his night time companions.

And SJ had done that to him. Broken his heart, and made him feel like he was the one who'd failed when all he'd ever done was have a heart so big he couldn't always protect it himself.

It wasn't - he blinked tears away - it didn't have to be like that anymore.

SJ wasn't going to leave him, not even if Tianlang-jun came back from retirement just to tear him away from his son's arms, even if Qiu Haitang came after him again.

Even if the whole world hated him - and it did - his husband loved him.

Even when he didn't deserve it -

"Hey." Hands grazed his temples, tugged him into a soft and sweet-scented embrace; cinnamon and shea butter. "What's wrong?"

SJ didn't know how to say how he felt without guilt-tripping the other man. "Nothing," he choked out, throwing his arms around Binghe's neck. "Nothing's wrong."

How could he believe him?

His husband froze for a moment. But then those warm arms tightened around SJ's waist, a hand patting his side.

"Okay," Binghe said, nuzzling the side of his jaw. "Okay, let's go eat then."

"Mm." SJ wiped the tears away with his palm, and let himself be let out like a boy again.

*

"I made congee," Binghe said with a wry expression as he took SJ to the kitchen. "I know, I know. I bought all those fancy ingredients and everything, but... I just didn't want to spend all day in the kitchen away from you.

I'll make you everything you want to eat for dinner later. But for now I just want to sit at the table with you and share a meal again, like we used do. Can we?" he asked hopefully.

SJ squeezed his hand. "Of course we can," he croaked.

"Okay." Binghe pecked him on the forehead. "Just sit down then. I'll take care of everything."

The first meal they shared in five years ended up being a small pot of congee, with a side of pickled vegetables and tea. SJ sat at the table and watched as Binghe ladled out the congee from a ceramic cooking pot and served him first.

"How is it?" his husband asked after SJ took a tentative first bite.

It was just the plainest form of congee; rice, water, salt, with a little ginger and dab of soy sauce.

But it was warm. And so, so familiar.

"It tastes just like Ayi's," SJ blurted out without thought.

"Yeah." Binghe smiled wistfully. "Mom used to make it for me whenever I got sick... or when we didn't have much to spare. Sometimes even buying eggs was beyond us. Congee, pickles, tea. Nothing special, really, but it was all we could afford back then."

SJ had always eaten like a king when he'd stayed with Binghe and his mother in their tiny apartment. Fresh vegetables, freshly steamed white rice, chicken and pork and big fat gleaming fish and dishes with plenty of flavour and seasoning.

Before then, he had never been allowed to eat his fill before, never been allowed to pick and choose, never been allowed to be the one to eat first.

What could you say in the face of kindness like that? What could you possibly ever do to repay it?

"It's enough," SJ said.

"Hm?" Binghe looked a little misty-eyed.

"I said, it's more than enough." SJ got up and walked around the table - too big for two people, stupid - to put arms around his husband's shoulders and hold his head close to his chest. "It's the best thing I've eaten in my whole life."

"Oh, gege..." Binghe turned his face inward, damp eyes soaking the fabric of SJ's thin shirt the whole way through. "You don't have to..."

"But I meant it," SJ said. "Every word of it."

"Oh." Binghe clutched the back of his shirt, holding onto him. "Mom, she always - I wish she could see us now, I miss her so much - "

"I know," SJ whispered. "I miss her too."

(So he did.)

*

After, they washed up and curled up on the couch, intent on not doing anything in particular.

SJ sat with his husband's head in his lap and played with his curls mindlessly.

"Gege," Binghe mumbled drowsily.

"Hm?" SJ had thought he'd fallen asleep a while back. "What is it?"

"Work with me," his husband said.

SJ chuckled. "Sorry?"

"I meant it." Binghe turned his face so he could look up at SJ. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but you could work with me at my place.

I don't know how easy it'll be for you to find work now otherwise, and I know you won't like just sitting at home and doing nothing."

"Sounds like nepotism," SJ drawled, but knew what he meant. Just because QHT might not be targeting him anymore, that didn't mean everyone else got the memo - not to mention, who the hell wanted an accountant with a shady past?

"Are you sure about that?" SJ added, when Binghe said nothing. "Maybe I'm a nightmare at work. Maybe I'll use your name for my own selfish needs and bully all your subordinates. Maybe I'll embezzle from you instead - "

"You can," Binghe blurted out. "If you wanted everything, I'd sign it over to you right now - "

"No, you won't," SJ said. "Shut the fuck up."

Binghe shut his mouth in a stubborn pout, mumbling, "Please?"

SJ pretended to think about it. "Yeah, alright."

"Oh," Binghe said, before realising SJ had been teasing him the whole time. "Gege, you - " Nearly knocking SJ out as he scrambled upright and tackled him.

"Don't make fun of me," Binghe grumbled as he slumped over SJ.

"I wasn't," SJ said, gazing up at him. "Me being around might make things a little awkward for your employees. They won't exactly be able to talk back to me, you know."

"And why the hell should they," his husband grumbled into his shoulder. "People should be lucky to even get a chance to look at you. Not that they deserve it either."

Look at this man. No one else would ever speak about SJ this way, if at all. No one else would care so much - love so much -

"Look at me," SJ said huskily.

Binghe lifted his head, and SJ lifted his hand to touch his cheek.

"My love," he said. Binghe inhaled sharply, staring at him with wide eyes.

"I love you," SJ said. "So, so much. I never let you know how much you meant to me before... nor did I treat you the way you deserved. Even now I don't know if I deserve this."

"You do," Binghe insisted.

"I don't know," SJ said. "But I know this; I have you, and I'm not letting go again. Even if you get sick of me, even if you start hating me, you asked me to keep you for a lifetime, so I'll do just that. You're mine, Luo Binghe, and it'll stay that way until we die.

I'm not letting go of you until then."

"I'm not letting go either," Binghe breathed in, rapt. He wet his tongue eagerly. "Gege, I..."

"Yeah." SJ cupped his cheeks. "Come here."

They shared their first kiss in half a decade, Binghe practically crawling all over him just for a taste. It was numbing, electrifying, breathless - literally. His husband groaned into his mouth and clutched onto his hips in desperation.

"Gege," Binghe gasped. "I want you so much..."

(What a surprise. He felt the same way.)

"You have me," SJ said, trailing fingers over the buttons of his husband's dress shirt. "So do what you want with me."

The look he got in response was worth everything. Really.

*

"'m hungry," SJ yawned hours later, when they were both exhausted and worn out and clean again. "Make me something."

It was evening now, and they'd been lounging in Binghe's all-too-comfortable bed after the post-sex shower and tub soak (albeit they may have gotten frisky in there as well, pardon me).

SJ smelled of Binghe's shampoo and Binghe's body wash, which was just as well. His husband smelled _delicious_. Made him want to lick his adam's apple and bite his way down his body all over again.

"Hm?" Binghe responded sleepily. "What do you want to eat?"

His favourites, SJ wanted to say. Soy sauce chicken and wood ear and cucumber salad, spicy shredded potatoes and corn and pork rib soup, all the things he loved to eat and Binghe loved to cook for him.

But his husband was looking so sleepy and soft in bed, and the thought of making him leave their little nest of blankets and sprawled out limbs for dinner was a step too far, even for him.

"Changed my mind," SJ said. "I want this instead."

And he slipped into Binghe's arms and straddled his waist.

"Oh, I think I like where this is going," his husband drawled, following him with a languid gaze.

"Yeah, you do," SJ huffed as he unbuttoned his oversized pajama top (his husband's, precisely). "Pervert."

Binghe smiled, looking up at him. "Yours, though."

First and always. "Mine," SJ agreed, and leaned down to kiss him, again and again... and again and again and again.

And if said kisses followed them into morning and the days after, then who could stop them? Who even wanted to?

After all, they were a pair of lovebirds in bloom, and it was just like it should be, like it once was, and like it would be from now on to the end of their days.

They had all the time in the world to love each other again.

(And they would.)

END

(I think we can safely call this the divorce AU's final chapter. Perhaps in the far, far off future there might be another extra, but I'm very happy with this story ending as it is now. Thanks for taking me journey with me.)