#spywork

AN: A short story i had to do with Blitz spy network from me and @eyecandyeoz hellaverse fic, with new characters. Also, Candy is letting me use her taglist.

When shit hit the proverbial fan in Hell, Blitz realized they needed a lot more people on their team.

Don’t apologize! I love SQH too, so feel free to ramble away. My inbox is always open, even if you just want to gush about Shang Qinghua!

—

“Everything is set up correctly?” Yue Qingyuan frets.

And it really is fretting, the way that the man hovers over the group of peak lords that have gathered around the meeting table, almost like a hungry hummingbird scoping out its next meal. The man is normally much more composed than this, a bastion of calm amidst any crisis, and it’s making everyone else high strung as well, now that he’s slipped.

“For the last time, Sect Leader,” Shen Qingqiu grouses tiredly from where he sits, as slouched as he’ll ever get, fan open and so close to his face that it’s pressed against his cheek and causing his words to slur slightly. “We have gone over every possible contingency. Shang-shidi will be as safe as if he is still within our very own sect.”

“Yes, I know,” Yue Qingyuan murmurs, still gazing concernedly down at the multiple shafts of papers that they’ve got spread out across the entirety of the table. There’s a crease in between his brows, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t really blame the man for being so worried, not really.

It’s a big operation, what they’ve got going on here. Complex, precarious, and it’s so incredibly important that they get every minute detail correct in their handling of the situation, or all of Shang Qinghua’s hard work, years worth of it, will go down the drain faster than someone can snap their fingers.

Despite carrying himself with the calm distance of an immortal master, leader of one of the greatest sects in all of China, Yue Qingyuan is the most ardent Big Brother Type that Shen Yuan has ever met in either of his lives. The man obviously cares about each and every one of his martial siblings, and it’s very apparent in the way that he gets anxious like this whenever one of them is put into a dangerous situation.

Given what the situation entails — and what exactly they’re dealing with here — Shen Qingqiu definitely doesn’t blame him for his hovering.

But, by the heavens, he’s ready to grab him by the shoulders and force him into a chair. He is fully prepared to sit on the man himself just to get Yue Qingyuan to be still for five seconds.

“Shang Qinghua is not new to work like this,” Mu Qingfang says soothingly. His calming demeanor is only broken by the way the doctor reaches out a second later to redundantly adjust the placement of one of the papers that litter the table. A nervous tick. “Out of us all, it’s him who has the highest chance of success. That’s why we chose him.”

“I know,” Yue Qingyuan says again, more firmly this time. He folds his hands behind his back and stands straight, gazing down at the table between them all. “However, given the matter at hand, your shixiong believes it prudent to ensure that every possible avenue of failure be closely examined.”

“More than we already have?” Ju Qingsong complains. He’s slumped entirely over the table, and has been for the last two hours. “Zhangmen-shixiong, this lord thinks that you’re really being a mother hen, here. Shang-shixiong’s done this sort of thing before. He’ll be fine!”

“It’s Shang-shijie now, Qingsong,” Qi Qingqi slyly announces, pulling the door to the meeting room open with a flourish. “And look, our martial sister! She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“I still don’t see why it couldn’t have been you doing this,” Shang Qinghua grouches as he troops into the room behind her. “You’ve done stuff like this before, as much as I have, and you’re actually a girl.”

Shen Qingqiu turns away from the table, a word of good-nature’s ribbing ready at the top of his tongue, but he finds that he can’t deploy it. Not when his bro is standing right there and looking like a real, dainty and dignified young maiden of a noble, xianxia family.

The robes are what’s most shocking, at first, like a full frontal assault to what Shen Qingqiu has become used to in regards to his friend. Shang Qinghua prefers dark blues, indigos, and blacks, all in a durable and solid weave — so, to see him decked out in flowing silks of soft pastels and light trims and embroidery, is certainly a shock to the senses.

His hair is next on the list of differences, usually pinned up entirely in braids and a bun held together with sharp silver needles. Today, half of it falls down his back in a gentle wave, while the top half of it is carefully twisted up into a delicate looking hair ornament that sparkles subtly in the light of the night pearls that decorate the meeting hall’s ceiling.

All of this, paired with the tasteful arrangement of jewelry — earrings that accentuate his jaw in a way that makes it appear a softer line than it actually is, artful golden clasps around the crown of his head, with gemmed beads that hang on carefully positioned wires to frame the fall of his hair and make it look like a tumbling waterfall of golden waters — Shang Qinghua makes for a beautiful young mistress.

“Damn, bro,” he says, unable to stop himself.

Shang Qinghua turns and raises an eyebrow at him, and all Shen Qingqiu finds himself able to do is shoot his friend a thumbs up.

“Damn is right,” Ju Qingsong gives a low whistle, pushing himself up from the table. Both of his eyebrows have risen up to meet his hairline, and a large grin adorns his face. “Shang-shijie! You’re breathtaking! Isn’t she gorgeous, Qingsheng?”

Rong Qingsheng doesn’t answer the man. He’s too busy staring at Shang Qinghua with silent and intense eyes. Knowing what he does of the lord of the agricultural peak, Shen Qingqiu figures he’s busy cataloguing every minute detail of their martial brother’s — er, sister’s — new look.

Honestly, he doesn’t blame him at all. Shang Qinghua makes for a show-stopping beauty.

Seriously, what the hell?

“Didn’t I do such a good job?” Qi Qingqi preens. She reaches over and, with careful fingers, tucks a stray strand of hair behind Shang Qinghua’s ear.

The man ducks his head, slowly in mindfulness of his intricate up-do, but Shen Qingqiu is too busy having heart palpitations to make fun of him for it. From the way that his fellow martial brothers’ eyes have all widened imperceptibly, they’re having similar struggles.

Liu Qingge stands up from the table rather abruptly.

“Qi-shijie needs to go instead,” he demands, a scowl curving his brows downward.

Shang Qinghua lets out an exasperated puff of air and tilts his head back, chin rising up almost stubbornly, and it’s likely because he’s still not used to the added weight of the hair ornaments. What it does, though, is expose the curve of his neck, and Shen Qingqiu turns away from the sight of his bro entirely just to shoot their sect leader a look of trepidation. The man himself seems like his earlier anxieties have doubled.

“That’s what I said earlier!” Shang Qinghua complains, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s pouting, and oh god it makes the picture of him look all the more delicate. Has Airplane even seen himself in a mirror yet?! He needs to stop with the cute actions!

“I said ‘Qi-shimei is actually a girl! Like, we have an actual female peak lord, who doesn’t have to crossdress in order to sneak into the human trafficking ring to find their financial books!’” Shang Qinghua re-enacts, pout becoming even more pronounced. Shen Qingqiu is pretty sure that Liu Qingge’s grip on the table has just cracked the wood. “And you all were like, ‘But Shang Qinghua! You have more undercover experience!’ And I was like, ‘That’s bullshit!’ because you all know that Qi Qingqi’s peak actually specializes in espionage! Like, why is it always me that has to go undercover?! I’m An Ding! I deal with information networks, not field work!”

“Except, you do deal in fieldwork,” Mu Qingfang points out, gently. He sounds like someone has punched him in the gut. “Very often, in fact…. Zhangmen-shixiong, I-I don’t think—”

“That’s because you guys always make me go!” Shang Qinghua interrupts him, clearly needing to complain a bit more. “I mean, there are plenty of times I do it myself, sure, but that’s just because I know the job will be done right that way! But all the other times! Like now! Seriously, you guys, Qi Qingi is right there!”

“And we definitely should have listened to you, you’re right,” Shen Qingqiu says weakly, waving his fam in front of his face in the hopes that it’ll help with the faint flush he can feel assaulting his cheeks.

“It’s too late for second guessing,” Qi Qingqi says flippantly, shaking her loose hair behind her shoulders. “If we change things up now, the entire operation will have to be reworked from the ground up, and that’s just not possible with the time frame we have. If we want to take advantage of the opening we’ve been given to take down this trafficking ring, then we must proceed as planned.”

“I hate that I have to agree with you,” Shang Qinghua grumbles.

He takes a step forward, toward the table, and then stops, staring at his own chair with a complicated expression on his face. After a few moments, he sighs and looks up.

“All these layers are even more complicated than my peak lord formal attire,” he says, forlorn. “I… I have no idea how to sit down in them…. Shijie, help.”

Qi Qingqi cackles, loudly, before going forward and pulling the man’s chair out for him. She waves her hand at the seat and instructs Shang Qinghua on how to adjust his robes as he sits, and then goes on to comment that they will have to practice so that Shang Qinghua will be able to make the motions look flawless and befitting of the young noble lady that he will be impersonating.

None of the other peak lords move. They’re too busy looking anywhere but at the two shijie currently chatting away on the other side of the table. Well, Rong Qingsheng is studying them rather carefully, but that’s a given. Ju Qingsong is watching his friend with an amused (if wistful) expression, himself.

Shen Qingqiu shuts his fan with a flick of his wrist and lays his head down on the table, pillowing his eyes into his crossed forearms.

He supposes that he will have to resign himself to the unfortunate fate of actually worrying about his best friend while the other is gone, for the entirety of the mission. Airplane is just too pretty for his own good! It’s Shen Yuan’s job, as his bro, to be absolutely and wholeheartedly concerned about what might happen to him out there, especially in the situation he will be descending into.

Man, he really relates to Yue Qingyuan, now. Had the sect leader known just how pretty Shang Qinghua would be? Is that why he’d been so visibly apprehensive even from the beginning?

Shen Qingqiu thinks he might need a drink. He glances across the table, at Shui Qingyu, and finds that the brewery peak lord appears to be thinking the same. Their eyes meet, their expressions of dread nearly identical, and they share a nod.

Next Generation Episode 23 of Season 7 29m10s 

“I think we ought to get together and compare notes” - LaForge