Chapter Text
The day had started normally enough. Zhao Yunlan had woken up somewhat late, just past noon, dressed in jeans and his favorite leather jacket, then headed off to work. For him, a bonafide and licensed private detective, this meant working a case that had dropped into his lap four days prior. A wealthy patron had been recently pickpocketed and he wanted back the engagement ring that had found its way from his pocket to someone else's hands.
Heavy footsteps pound away in front of him but he’s catching up. The thief darts into an oncoming group of people, shoving through them in his haste. Zhao falters as he sees one woman stumble, the heel of her shoe cracking and sending her tumbling towards the heavy traffic on the main road. Shit.
A quick redirect and fast reflexes let him catch her arm by the elbow and he pulls her back onto the sidewalk, steadying her with a hand on her arm. She looks stunned for a moment and he grins at her, watching her face soften into one of gratefulness. She’s incredibly pretty and Zhao, considering letting his quarry get away long enough to find out just how thankful she is, gives her a flirty wink. The thought is short-lived as someone, maybe trying to find their own footing, bumps into Zhao and sends him falling, falling, falling into the road.
He blinks.
He thinks for a moment that he’s still falling, but if that’s the case he’s falling in the wrong direction. His feet interrupt his view of the clouds as they float above him. That’s odd.
He turns his head and his body follows, and this must be something like what astronauts feel in zero gravity. His body has no weight and he feels like a strong breeze could carry him off. The city lays below him, looking like a bizarre maze with ants crawling through it from so high up. As he focuses he finds himself drifting closer to the ground and can start to make-out what exactly is going on down on the ground.
Three cars are wrecked, bumpers dented and the first car sits diagonally across the road. No one seems injured, Zhao thinks. All the drivers and two passengers are standing next to their open doors, though the driver of the first car is more crouching than standing. A group, maybe the same group he’d seen on the sidewalk, are huddled in a ring around something in the road. He drifts closer.
It only takes a moment to realize it’s a body. Zhao grimaces at the angles of the legs. Legs that, now that he looks closer, are wearing the exact same pants that he is. Shoes, too. Even the color of the shirt… The crowd parts a bit and Zhao stares at his own face.
Well. Shit.
“Ah.” Really he probably should have something better to say, he thinks. Maybe a rant about the cruelty of fate. Possibly a vow of revenge on the dumbass pickpocket that had brought this on him. It’s hard to care when his body feels so light, though.
The woman he’d kept from falling into the road was crouched and crying into her hands, a couple of other men trying to comfort her, and Zhao bats his eyelashes even though no one could see him, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest. “Ahh, she and I could’ve really had something,” he laments, but only half seriously.
He watches the crowd grow for a couple of minutes, fascinated by the ebb and flow of it as some people try to get a closer look. Others who had gotten the look turn tail to run. He snickers as he notices a couple of people vomiting, serves them right. Sirens catch his attention and he watches an ambulance arrive, frowning as the EMT’s don’t do anything besides check his non-existent pulse and load him onto a stretcher none too gently. “Oi, you could at least give me a zap or two,” he yells at them. It has no effect, not that he expects it to.
Zhao sprawls as best he can while floating in the air. Crossing an ankle over his knee and leaning back he taps a finger on his chin while his face scrunches in thought. “I guess… I’m dead? I must be a ghost now.?”
“That’s right.” The somber voice from behind him startles him and he finds himself spinning head over heels for a moment as he tries to right himself in the air. When he manages to stop spinning and focus on the person who spoke he can’t help but stare. He supposes the dark billowing robes and hood are meant to be intimidating, but all they really do is highlight the beauty of the man wearing them. Pale skin and high cheekbones with big dark eyes Zhao feels like he could swim in if he tried. His thick brows are set in a serious expression and his mouth, plush and a lovely pink, seems apologetic.
Well this is pleasantly unexpected. Zhao grins. “Dead, huh? Well. I must be in heaven, cause you’re an angel if I ever saw one.”
Maybe the eyebrow waggle is a bit much.
The man looks stunned for one gorgeous moment, eyes big and round and innocent and giving Zhao filthy thoughts, then he clears his throat and ducks his head, eyes and a good portion of his face hidden under his hood. “I suppose you might call me the angel of death if that is your preference, I have many names.”
Zhao tsked. “Angel of death, eh. So like, the Grim Reaper?”
The hood nods.
“Suppose that makes sense with the outfit then. Damn, really thought I had it made up here,” he whines. He would have added a pout to his lips but the other man seemed intent on not looking at him for the moment. How unfortunate.
“Well I guess cart me off to wherever,” Zhao heaves a very put-upon sigh. “I suppose I have no choice anymore but to let you have your way with me.”
That remark earns him another stunned look as the robed head shoots up and dark eyes meet his own. Those pale cheeks seem a bit pink and Zhao begins wondering idly that if he’s a ghost and this man the grim reaper, would he be able to touch him? That’s a question he needs answered sooner rather than later.
He drifts closer and the black robed man’s posture stiffens. “Sooo.. Should I call you angel? Grim? The Black Death?” He pauses for a moment and smirks, “Brother Black?”
A pale hand draped in black reaches out to stop Zhao before he gets any closer. He feels it on his chest and grins, eyes heavily lidded as he can feel a pleasant thrumming coming from where that hand lays.
"You may call me Shen Wei." The man is frowning but it seems more like a pout and Zhao is positively gleeful.
“Shen Wei, the pleasure is all mine,” Zhao winks and gives a mock bow with a hand flourish, softly cursing as his momentum makes him do another three-sixty rotation. He grins sheepishly as he comes to a stop.
Zhao sees the tiny amused smile that plays at the edges of those soft-looking lips and he’s not sure how his heart can be swelling when he doesn’t have a body. “You’re very… Lively for someone who just died.”
He can’t stop the laughter bubbling up. “That was clever. Ah, what can I say, it’s hard to be down in the presence of such a beauty.” Zhao gives his most lascivious grin and fancies he can see another dusting of pink on Shen’s cheeks.
Much to Zhao’s disappointment, and why is he so disappointed, he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Regardless, you need to come with me now. We have an appointment to keep.”
Zhao isn’t sure if that sounds promising or not. “Aiya, now I’m stressed. You can give me a hint right, whether I’m going up or down? Do we have to ride the river?”
Shen turns away from him and Zhao tries to peek any insight into the body under those robes that he can, but comes up empty handed. “You’ll understand when we arrive.”
A few complicated hand gestures later a dark portal swirls open a few feet away, hovering in the air with them. Zhao feels almost like it’s sucking at all the atoms left of his existence. Did he even have atoms anymore? He shakes his head distractedly and falls back into his usual method of hiding discomfort. “I see you’re very talented with your hands Brother Black,” he flirts, daring to reach a hand out to grip a dark robed shoulder and feeling a thrill when Shen’s whole body tenses.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly inappropriate,” it’s a statement rather than a question and Zhao just pats him on the back.
“Every day of my life,” he pauses, “and now my death, too.” Shen shoots him an exasperated but fond look and Zhao beams.