That morning was spent in silence. It wasn't unusual; despite bickering, there was no need to speak much to each other, being comfortable with presence alone. However, Zhao took to spending a lot of the morning well within Yutang's space. Not that the detective minded—sometimes cats wanted closeness.

And by that logic, Yutang, though caught off guard, just went along with it when Zhao hugged him from behind as they brushed their teeth. When he saw the older man in the mirror, he just got a wink for his efforts, and the routine simply continued. 

Yutang frowned after his boyfriend's retreating back but held to his earlier conclusion. Maybe Zhao would return to normal whilst participating in the group activity devised to keep their minds sharp.

Having some downtime, Yutang decided that the team should go over closed cases and solve them in their own ways with the given evidence. 

Zhao looked distracted but was somehow always on target with his responses and suggestions. He knew Yutang was picking on him, and so he'd just flash the detective a small smile—not the righteous smirk of victory, but a smile so soft and so genuine that it never failed to make Yutang's breath catch.

It took scrambling for every bit of his composure to clear his throat and continue the session.

The entire day went that way. Yutang would just be minding his own business, and the hairs at the back of his neck would rise. He'd look around, then somehow lock eyes with Zhao who would just keep looking at him. Smiling.

"Mao'er," he said, tugging the psychologist to the side while everyone else left for lunch. 

"Yes?" Zhao looked at him, brows raised. 

"Are you okay?" Yutang slackened his grip on the other man's arm. "You've been weird all day."

And there it was: that gentle smile, so much like a flower unfurling to embrace the sun. The doctor's eyes sparkled, serene. 

Yutang's breath hitched, and he hastily covered it with a cough and a soft 'excuse me.'

But he never got his answer, as Zhao's phone went off. The older man grunted his understanding of whatever was being said on the other end and hung up. 

"Sorry, Shu Bai," he frowned. "My editor wants me at the office urgently, but yes, I'm fine."

Yutang released the man's sleeve and nodded his understanding, but still eyed the doctor suspiciously. It only served to win him another one of those smiles. 

After the doctor left him with a lingering look, Yutang beat a hasty retreat to his office and slumped into his chair. 

Yutang heaved a steadying breath, unused to being flustered for so long a time. He could still feel his heart fluttering madly in his chest, and he manfully fought off the blush beginning to warm his cheeks. 

He groaned, running a hand over his face. Zhao seemed exceptionally playful today—what's gotten into him? Was there something special going on that Yutang forgot?

The detective flipped through his desktop calendar but nothing was marked off—not until Jintang's birthday, and that was a month away.

Zhao claimed he was fine, and Yutang had no choice but to take him at his word. If the man just wanted to mess with him, then he was doing a damned good job at it. While it wasn't all bad, the detective hated being thrown off balance.

Yutang sighed again. 

The remainder of the day was, thankfully, more peaceful. Zhao sequestered himself in the other office. Oh, Yutang saw when he came in, but chose to remain in his chair, opting to peer through the nearly-closed blinds from where he sat. He watched Zhao look around and then ask Zhao Fu a question. The doctor followed the surveillance expert's gesture at Yutang's office, and as soon as Zhao looked his way, Yutang immediately feigned occupation.

He waited for the guesstimated amount of time it would take for Zhao to cross the floor and enter his office, but there was no sign of him. He glanced up just in time to see the other office door shut behind the tail of the familiar dark trench coat.

---

He jerked to full awareness at the sound of the doctor's chuckle under his ear.

"Go get ready for bed, Xiao Bai," Zhao urged gently, nudging the detective upright.

Yutang rose from the couch and handed Zhao the remote to do as he liked before ambling along with his nighttime routine. He scratched the back of his head, nails running over the same spot Zhao used to put him to sleep.

Maybe it was best to call it a night. Hopefully, the events of the day could be passed off as a fever dream. No, he wasn't against Zhao's sudden tactile nature charging to the surface, but it kept blindsiding him all day and his heart needed a break. He felt like a girl suddenly being given attention by her high school crush. So heady, it was almost sickening.

The detective sighed as the hot water beat into his shoulders. He stepped back and shoved his head under the spray, bracing his hands on the tiled wall. 

It was like someone exposed his weakness to the other man, and now Zhao was lording it over him in the worst possible way. 

Yutang hissed willed himself through his bath.

He started slightly when the shower door slid open, and he was joined by none other than the devil himself. Yutang glanced behind him to see Zhao already lathering up. 

Nonplussed, they both showered, swapping places when Zhao quietly requested access to the showerhead.

Yutang stared at the older man's back, watching the lithe muscles bunch together under pale skin. Zhao may not have been as built, but he was still well-toned.

The doctor turned to face him and tipped his head back to rinse the soap from his hair.

Their gazes met, and the detective was rewarded with one of those thrice-damned smiles again.

Deciding to fight fire with fire, Yutang smiled back. However, he was utterly unprepared to see Zhao's smile broaden, and his eyes light up.

Yutang's breath hitched, thrown out of his daze only by the whisper of a kiss across his lips. He returned it automatically, eyelids fluttering when Zhao groaned softly against his mouth. He felt himself being expertly manoeuvred and heard the shower door open.

Zhao pulled away with a final peck.

"Finish up, Shu Bai."

Yutang blinked owlishly as he watched his lover leave the tub in a fresh white towel. It wasn't until the water suddenly went cold that he noticed his wildly beating heart and he hastily finished showering.

He left with a towel around his waist as he used another to roughly dry his hair. Then he flicked off the light and padded across the hall into their bedroom. 

He absently registered the TV still going in the living room, and the sound of dishes clinking and thought that maybe if he went to sleep first, he'd be able to escape the Twilight Zone.

With that thought in mind, he stripped himself of the towel and turned down the blanket. Then without preamble, he sank into the mattress on his stomach, heaving a contented sigh.

However, his plans for preemptive slumber were thwarted; Zhao strolled into the bedroom, still towel-clad, and closed the door behind him. The doctor rounded the bed, and out of view, shut off the lamp before climbing into bed.

Yutang resolutely faced away, avoiding the curse of The Smile. "Mao'er."

He felt the other man pause briefly before settling beside him. "Yes?"

"I—," he tried. "Want to explain all of today? You've been acting weird, and it's… I mean—."

What was wrong with him? He was beginning to babble. Bai Yutang does not babble.

Then again, Zhan Zhao doesn't get handsy.

Vindication.

"Why," he decided to bite out instead.

More shifting. "Why what?"

Yutang huffed, rolling over to frown at Zhao.

"Are you dying?" he blurted.

Silence blanketed the room, getting thicker as the seconds crept by. Yutang's ire was beginning to morph into terror before he was startled by raucous laughter. A long arm reached around him and pulled him flush against Zhao's chest. The older man's forehead was pressed against Yutang's chest as he tried, vainly, to compose himself.

Meanwhile, Yutang was completely poleaxed, watching Zhao come up for air with a grin wide enough to bring out the dimple in his left cheek. 

"That's not funny," Yutang croaked, finally finding his voice.

Zhao calmed, moving to place a kiss where he'd hid his face. "Please, Shu Bai," he nearly wheezed. "Never change."

It wasn't until the doctor's grin faded into something smaller and bemused that Yutang realized he was staring.

He hissed and folded his arms, pointedly looking away. "Here I am worried, and you're laughing at me."

"I know," Zhao murmured, hand reaching to cover the spot where Yutang's heart hammered against his chest. He laid another gentle kiss on the slightly raised skin there. "I know, and I'm sorry." 

Another aborted chuckle.

Yutang scowled into the dark of the bedroom.

"Shu Bai—."

"Well?" Yutang prompted, turning to give Zhao a challenging stare. But it quickly faltered at the sight of that smile. He drew in a shuddering breath, stunned yet again.

He was brought back to himself with Zhao's lips on his own. Yutang's fingers found themselves in the other man's still-damp hair, his other arm looped around his neck.

He opened eyes he had realized were closed, panting softly as Zhao pulled away. 

It was a far cry from their usual. It wasn't bruising, with the lingering nips that led to the promise of something wild. No, this one was soft, like flower petals in a light summer breeze—gentle and unhurried.

And that smile was still there, somehow softer, almost reverent. 

He felt fingers ghost up his sides to cup the back of his head, gently massaging the scalp there.

He watched Zhao watch him, and the words tumbled from his kiss-loosened lips unbidden. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He used a hand to trace the soft skin of his lover's jawline. "All day, I've seen this look on your face."

The smile dimmed then, and Yutang's heart lurched at its sudden absence, his words lodging in his throat.

Zhao reached up to hold Yutang's wandering hand, kissed the calloused palm, and then turned a soft frown at the detective. "So many eyes on you every day and not one of them does this to you."

Yutang cast him a questioning look.

And there it was: the gentle smile, so much like a flower unfurling to embrace the sun. Just like before, the doctor's eyes sparkled, serene.

And again, Yutang's breath caught, his heart set aflutter.

"I look at you like this because it gets you to look at me the same way," Zhao whispered, his own fingers coming to trace the smile Yuntao never knew was there. "Every single time."