Work Text:
Late evening at ShengFang Biotech had been… too much.
The failed cell cultures.
The exhausted researchers.
The pressure mounting with every ticking second.
Shaoyou had spent five straight hours moving through the lab with that warm, steady voice that everyone listened to — the CEO who brewed tea, soothed panic, corrected pipetting technique, and reassured the new hires that the sky was not falling.
He had been the calm in the storm.
And then the accident.
A frightened intern, hands trembling from stress, grabbed a vial he shouldn’t have rushed with.
It slid from his grip.
Shattered.
The droplets sprayed outward.
Shaoyou reacted before anyone even gasped — pulling the intern back, shielding him with his own body.
The reagent hit his forearm.
A harsh, stinging burn.
Red welts rising instantly.
“Sir—sir, I’m so sorry—!”
“It’s alright,” Shaoyou murmured softly, as if he were the one offering comfort. “Just go wash your hands. It’s okay.”
And that was that.
He hid the pain.
Rolled down his sleeve.
Continued supervising, helping, smiling.
He didn’t want to frighten the intern.
He didn’t want to derail their night.
He didn’t — above all — want Hua Yong to worry.
But by the time the last report was submitted and the last researcher went home, Shaoyou’s arm throbbed relentlessly.
The skin was swollen, angry, irritated.
And dizziness lingered around the edges of his vision like a shadow that refused to leave.
Still, he whispered to himself:
Just get home. Just clean it. Just don’t make him worry.
He stepped through their apartment door at exactly 9:04pm.
The lights were warm and soft.
Peanut was on the rug in his star-patterned pajamas, stacking colorful blocks and babbling triumphantly every time he managed to balance one.
Hua Yong was sitting beside him, long legs folded, alert the second the door opened.
Shaoyou forced a small smile. “I’m hom—”
Then it happened.
Hua Yong’s expression changed.
Not slowly.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Like a switch flipped.
From relaxed father to lethal protector in a breath.
He stood. One stride, two — and then his palm was cupping Shaoyou’s cheek, thumb brushing just beneath his eye, gaze scanning him with surgical precision.
“You’re pale.”
Shaoyou shook his head. “Just tired—”
“Your voice is different.”
“It’s nothing, Yong, I—”
“Give me your arm.”
Shaoyou froze.
Hua Yong almost never asked. He stated. Quietly. Softly. But with no room to refuse.
Shaoyou swallowed. “Yong, it’s really—”
“Shaoyou.”
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just that dangerously calm tone that meant: Don’t lie to me. Don’t hide from me.
Shaoyou exhaled.
Slowly, he lifted his sleeve.
Hua Yong’s entire body went still.
The burn, swollen and mottled red, covered Shaoyou’s forearm. Up close, the skin looked raw and painful.
And Hua Yong… said nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
His silence was heavy — protective, simmering, furious in a way that wasn’t directed at Shaoyou but at the world.
Peanut noticed too.
He scrambled up and waddled over, eyes wide.
“Daddy?”
Then louder, distressed: “Daddy hurt?!”
Shaoyou forced a soft smile. “It’s okay, Peanut. Daddy’s okay.”
He wasn’t.
And Hua Yong knew it.
Wordlessly, Hua Yong took Shaoyou’s wrist — gently, but with a grip that trembled from how hard he was restraining his emotions.
“Sit,” he murmured.
Shaoyou sat immediately.
Hua Yong disappeared into the bathroom.
Peanut followed, yelling, “Papa! Papa! Daddy boo-boo!”
In less than a minute, Hua Yong returned with the first-aid kit, a bowl of cool water, and a towel. He kneeled in front of Shaoyou, treating him like something breakable — the opposite of vulnerable, because Hua Yong didn’t break. He protected.
He dipped the towel, wrung it out, and began cooling the burn with soft, precise movements.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
Shaoyou’s shoulders dropped.
“An intern dropped a vial. I just moved too quickly,” he said. “It wasn’t their fault.”
“It damn well wasn’t yours,” Hua Yong murmured, voice low and frighteningly steady.
Shaoyou shook his head. “Don’t be angry with them. They were scared. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
Hua Yong paused.
Looked up.
And there it was — that gaze filled with a love so deep it almost hurt.
“You shielded them.”
“They’re young,” Shaoyou murmured. “They would’ve been hurt.”
“And instead,” Hua Yong whispered, fingers brushing Shaoyou’s knuckles, “you were.”
Shaoyou opened his mouth to argue, but Peanut crawled into his lap, softly touching the bandaged area with a gentle little hand.
“Daddy,” he said solemnly.
Then: “No hurt.”
Shaoyou smiled, eyes softening. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Papa’s helping Daddy.”
Peanut nodded firmly and hugged Shaoyou’s good arm.
Hua Yong finished applying ointment and a clean bandage, then sat back, exhaling the breath he’d been holding.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Shaoyou hesitated. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
A mistake.
A soft one.
A deadly one.
Hua Yong leaned in, breathing heavily.
“I worry because I love you,” he whispered. “I breathe because of you. You don’t take that away from me by hiding your pain.”
Shaoyou’s throat tightened. “Yong…”
“You come home to me,” Hua Yong murmured, brushing Shaoyou’s cheek with his thumb. “Whole. Safe. Always.”
Peanut, sensing the seriousness, patted both their faces proudly.
“Hug!” he declared.
And just like that, the tension dissolved into gentle warmth.
Hua Yong gathered both Shaoyou and Peanut into his arms, cradling them as though they were the only two people that mattered — because they were.
“Tomorrow,” Hua Yong said quietly, kissing Shaoyou’s temple, “you’re resting. No work.”
Shaoyou nodded against his shoulder. “Alright.”
“And,” Hua Yong added, deadly soft, “I’ll be having a conversation with your lab supervisor.”
Shaoyou jolted. “Yong—!”
“A conversation,” he repeated calmly. “Not violence. Relax.”
Peanut nodded like he approved, even though he didn’t understand a thing.
Shaoyou laughed weakly. “Just… be gentle. It was an accident.”
Hua Yong’s lips brushed his ear.
“For you, I am always gentle.”
Shaoyou felt his chest warm, his body relax, the dizziness fading simply from being held.
Peanut curled into his lap, yawning.
And there, in their living room, wrapped in Hua Yong’s arms, listening to Peanut’s soft babbles and the steady heartbeat of the man who loved them both too fiercely…
Shaoyou realized something:
He was home.
Safe.
Loved beyond measure.
And tomorrow — tomorrow there would be softness, teasing, maybe a little overprotectiveness.
But tonight?
Tonight, he had everything he needed right here in Hua Yong’s warm, unwavering embrace.
Bonus:
ShengFang Biotech’s research floor was usually busy by 9 a.m.
Today, however, the moment the elevator doors slid open and Hua Yong stepped out, the entire corridor fell unnaturally quiet.
He wasn’t wearing a suit.
He didn’t need to.
Black long-sleeved shirt, fitted slacks, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
But everyone knew who he was.
He was Sheng Shaoyou’s husband.
The one who never raised his voice, never showed anger—
The one with the connections no one dared ask about.
The one who smiled softly but made people stand straighter without meaning to.
And now he was here.
The lab supervisor, Director Lin, came rushing out of his office.
“Mr. Hua—! We weren’t informed you were visiting today—”
“I didn’t come here officially,” Hua Yong said quietly. “Just to ask something.”
Director Lin swallowed. “Y-Yes, of course. Please—my office.”
He led Hua Yong to a private space, shutting the door quickly.
Hua Yong stayed standing.
Director Lin’s throat clicked. “Is… everything alright?”
Hua Yong’s expression didn’t change.
“Last night,” he began, voice soft as silk, “my husband came home injured.”
Director Lin blanched. “I—injured? Injured? I assure you, Mr. Hua, we would never intentionally—”
“I know,” Hua Yong interrupted gently.
That softness made Lin more nervous, not less.
Hua Yong continued, tone calm, measured:
“A reagent vial shattered. An intern dropped it. Shaoyou shielded the boy and was burned.”
Director Lin couldn’t stop himself.
“W-We didn’t know, sir. He said nothing.”
“Yes,” Hua Yong murmured, “that sounds like him.”
Lin nodded shakily. “Sir, I will discipline the intern immediately—”
“No.”
Director Lin froze.
Hua Yong lifted his eyes—slowly, calmly—and Lin felt the back of his neck go cold.
“The intern did not act maliciously,” Hua Yong said. “Accidents happen. Do not punish him for being frightened. He is young.”
Lin blinked in confusion. “So… you’re not angry with him?”
Hua Yong gave a soft smile.
“No. I’m angry you didn’t notice.”
Director Lin felt something drop in his stomach.
Hua Yong spoke quietly:
“My husband supervised after-hours. He helped your staff. He calmed your interns. He fixed your mistake without complaint.”
A beat.
“And he left this building hiding an injury because he didn’t want to burden you.”
Lin’s face flushed with shame.
Hua Yong’s voice dropped even lower.
“Tell me, Director Lin. If I hadn’t seen it myself… would anyone here have noticed?”
Lin whispered, “I… I don’t know.”
Hua Yong took one step closer.
“And if something worse had happened to him while he was helping your people,” he said softly,
“would you have realized? Would you have cared in time?”
Lin felt sweat drip down his spine.
“Mr. Hua… I swear—we will implement new protocols. No one will work overtime without a supervisor present. Accidents will be reported immediately. And… and I will personally keep an eye on your husband’s workload.”
Hua Yong’s expression softened—barely.
“Good. Not because he is my husband. But because he is a good man. Too good. And people like him get hurt because they put others first.”
Lin nodded rapidly.
Hua Yong reached for the door.
But before he left, he spoke once more—quietly, politely, and absolutely terrifyingly:
“And Director Lin?”
“Yes—yes, sir?”
“If Shaoyou ever comes home injured because he hid something out of guilt or overwork…”
He turned slightly, eyes half-lidded.
“Your entire research division will find itself reorganized. Under me.”
Director Lin went still.
Hua Yong offered a soft smile.
“Have a good day.”
And he walked out.
No yelling.
No threats spoken plainly.
Just facts.
When the door closed, Director Lin collapsed into his chair, wiping his forehead.
“God help us,” he whispered.
But outside, in the elevator, Hua Yong leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly.
He wasn’t angry.
He was protecting.
His family was everything.
And anyone who risked hurting Shaoyou—even accidentally—
Would learn exactly what it meant to be noticed by Hua Yong.
The house was quiet when Hua Yong returned.
He closed the front door softly, setting down his keys without a sound—because Peanut was taking an afternoon nap, and Shaoyou had finally agreed to stay in bed.
He walked into the bedroom.
Shaoyou was propped up against the pillows, still in his soft grey pajamas, one blanket tucked around his waist and another draped over his shoulders because he always claimed he wasn’t cold while visibly shivering.
His right arm—bandaged, medicated, healing—rested on a pillow.
He looked up immediately.
“Yong… you’re back?”
His voice was warm, soft, relieved.
“Yes,” Hua Yong murmured, crossing the room. “Did you sleep?”
Shaoyou pouted faintly. “No. I was waiting.”
Hua Yong sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Shaoyou’s hair back with gentle fingers.
“Why?”
“You left without breakfast,” Shaoyou whispered, leaning into the touch, “and you didn’t tell me where you were going.”
Hua Yong’s chest softened.
“I went to speak with your supervisor,” he said quietly, thumb brushing Shaoyou’s cheek. “That’s all.”
Shaoyou’s eyes widened. “Yong—I told you not to make a fuss—”
“I didn’t,” Hua Yong said simply. “I was calm.”
Which only made Shaoyou’s face fall in a different way.
“…That’s worse, Yong.”
Hua Yong hummed, lips curving.
“Maybe. But it was necessary.”
Shaoyou sighed, letting himself relax again. Hua Yong could tell he was tired—the kind of tired he hides until someone pulls him close and tells him he’s allowed to rest.
So he leaned forward, kissing his forehead gently.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered into his skin. “That’s what matters.”
Shaoyou’s eyes fluttered shut.
After a moment, he opened them again—soft, shy.
“Peanut didn’t cause trouble?”
“He’s sleeping with his stuffed elephant. On top of it, actually.”
Hua Yong smiled.
“Like he was guarding it.”
Shaoyou chuckled, the sound quiet and airy.
“And you…?” he murmured.
“Me?” Hua Yong tilted his head.
“You look tense.”
He squeezed Hua Yong’s fingers.
“Did something stress you out?”
Hua Yong hesitated—only for a second.
“No,” he said softly. “I just… don’t like letting you get hurt.”
Shaoyou’s face softened instantly.
He tugged Hua Yong gently.
“Come here.”
Hua Yong lay beside him carefully so he wouldn’t touch the injured arm. Shaoyou shifted until their foreheads touched, then reached out with his uninjured hand, sliding his fingers into Hua Yong’s hair.
“I love you,” Shaoyou whispered. “I’m okay. …I promise.”
Hua Yong closed his eyes.
“You should let people take care of you,” he murmured.
“You’re doing that right now.”
“Not enough.”
Shaoyou’s laugh was breathy, warm.
“Then stay. Just for a little bit.”
Hua Yong didn’t need to be asked twice.
He slipped an arm around Shaoyou’s waist and pulled him gently—carefully—into his chest. Shaoyou let out a surprised breath, then melted, cheek pressed against Hua Yong’s collarbone.
“Does it hurt?” Hua Yong asked.
“No.”
A pause.
“…Maybe.”
Hua Yong kissed the top of his head.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Shaoyou murmured something sleepy and soft:
“You always do.”
They stayed like that for a long time—
one man resting,
the other protecting,
both holding onto each other quietly.
And when Peanut eventually woke up and toddled into the room with messy hair and a blanket cape, he found them like that—
His Daddy in Papa’s arms,
his Papa stroking Daddy’s hair.
Peanut blinked, then climbed onto the bed and squished himself between them.
“Family,” he said proudly, pressing both their cheeks with tiny hands.
Hua Yong smiled.
Shaoyou laughed gently.
And everything felt right again.