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For a while Zhao Yunlan wondered about it. Debated whether it was worth asking directly, or should he rely on his honed investigator skills.
Really, it wasn't that important a question, whether Shen Wei actually bought clothes, or if he just magicked up impressive black robes and perfectly fit suits out of dark energy whenever needed.
Zhao Yunlan went so far as to check the treaty, but couldn't quite decide if the clause about Dixing's Envoy being "permitted to exercise his Powers as is deemed reasonable & necessary to productively effect the Duties of his Office" extended to bespoke tailoring. On the one hand, it seemed a bit frivolous; on the other, Shen Wei attempting to effect his duties in the nude might prove difficult. Distracting for sure. Especially for Haixing's Guardian, though Zhao Yunlan would have been willing to take that hit.
Once Shen Wei more or less moved in, Zhao Yunlan got some answers, insofar as Shen Wei cleaned up and then claimed the closet in the bedroom, filling its unused space with neatly pressed suits and leisure wear.
And also pajamas, because of course he did.
Zhao Yunlan hadn't owned an actual pair of pajamas himself since he was ten years old; he generally slept in a t-shirt and boxers, if he bothered stripping out of his jeans at all. With Shen Wei in his bed, the jeans always came off, of course, and sometimes everything, after which he rarely got around to putting anything back on until next morning. Shen Wei never commented on that one way or another, as fastidious as he was himself about donning his post-coital PJs. As long as Zhao Yunlan was comfy, he was content as well.
Still, Zhao Yunlan had to admit that there was something to pajamas after all. At least the pairs Shen Wei had, which were mostly silk, appealingly draped and so satiny soft under his fingers that it was almost as good as touching Shen Wei's own skin.
Sometimes when they'd been working late and Zhao Yunlan's eyes were aching from scanning too many case files, he'd look over to see Shen Wei in his bed, in those velvety silks—all sedate but rich shades of blues and browns, that brought out the darkness of his eyes, and Zhao Yunlan could never resist joining him. Even if he was too tired to try anything fun, he would lie down along Shen Wei's side as Shen Wei sat reading in bed, and fold his arm across Shen Wei's lap. Occasionally he would tilt his head to press his cheek to the soft silk over Shen Wei's hip, and Shen Wei would idly nest his hand in Zhao Yunlan's hair, and Zhao Yunlan fell asleep like that, more than a few nights.
When summer came and the struggling AC was no match for the humidity, Shen Wei wore pajamas still—light cotton ones now, and even when Zhao Yunlan was so hot and sticky with sweat that he recoiled from touching his own skin, that cotton stayed smooth and inviting. Shen Wei sweated during the day, same as anyone, but at night he never was as overheated as Zhao Yunlan. So that Zhao Yunlan, flopping down onto the bed with his limbs starfished to maximize surface area for cooling, nuzzled into Shen Wei's cotton-lined side and mumbled, "Best damn part of my day."
Shen Wei made an inquisitive hum, and Zhao Yunlan looped an arm around his soothingly cool waist, even as his eyes were already closing. "This," he said. "In bed with you. Never knew that sleeping with someone could be this amazing."
He felt Shen Wei still—just for a moment, and then he said, more than a little amused, "I hadn't realized you were so ignorant of the pleasures of the bedroom."
Zhao Yunlan pinched his hip through the cotton. "Show you pleasures—tomorrow. But no, I mean, actually"—he yawned—"sleeping. You should try it sometime, you might like it..."
"I do," Shen Wei said, still amused.
And he did try it, at least a bit. If Zhao Yunlan happened to wake up in the middle of the night, he occasionally could catch Shen Wei actually stretched out next to him. Though his eyes would be open as often as not, awoken by Zhao Yunlan's waking. It was kind of ironic, that a man who owned that much sleepwear rarely took full advantage of it. But Zhao Yunlan appreciated it anyway, that Shen Wei let himself be comfortable, in at least one place.
Autumn came, and with its blessedly cooler breezes Zhao Yunlan was looking forward to the return of the silk pajamas. Only instead Shen Wei came back one day with a shopping bag, and inside—"Plaid?" Zhao Yunlan asked, raising his eyebrows. The bold red and green prints weren't the elegant style of Shen Wei's other pajamas.
"They're flannel," Shen Wei said, as if that explained everything.
Which maybe it did, Zhao Yunlan had to admit, after he felt for himself how fluffily soft the fabric was. And what it would feel like draped over the warmth of Shen Wei's skin—he couldn't wait to find out, despite the momentary distraction of imagining a Tartan-Cloaked Envoy. If he got the mask to match...
Zhao Yunlan didn't get to enjoy the flannel that night, though, having to go back to the SID—their current case was a mess, and it took three long days and nights to unravel it and bring the criminals to justice. The last night he sent Shen Wei home but valiantly stayed with the rest of his team to finish up the paperwork. They'd done too good a job to deserve the punishment of doing it themselves, unfortunately.
Come daybreak, Xiao-Guo came around with the last serving of tea, only to nearly drop the cup he handed to his chief. Zhao Yunlan caught it just in time, swearing as the hot liquid sloshed and scalded his fingers.
"S-sorry," Xiao-Guo stammered, staring into Zhao Yunlan's face, "but—are you sick, Chief Zhao? Should we call a doctor? Or can Hong-jie give you some medicine?"
"Eh?" Zhao Yunlan said. "I'm fine."
"But your eyes," Xiao-Guo said, "They've gotten all...dark, and sunken," and he gestured grim circles around his eye sockets. "You—you shouldn't have stayed up if you're sick—"
"What are you talking about," Da Qing said, "that's just what Lao-Zhao looks like."
"No, it's not," Xiao-Guo protested. "Not since I've been here..."
"Well," Lin Jing said, "it's how he looks after an all-nighter."
"Which is most of the time," Da Qing concluded. Then he paused and leaned past Xiao-Guo to peer up into Zhao Yunlan's face. "Though actually...huh."
"What," Lin Jing asked, then leaned down himself and also frowned. "...Huh."
As the object of that disconcertingly close attention, Zhao Yunlan felt entirely justified in shoving them off. "Go look in the mirror, you guys have as big circles under your eyes."
"No I don't," Da Qing said with the absolute confidence only a cat can have when it comes to daily sleep requirements. "But Xiao-Guo's right, you don't usually either. Not like this...not anymore. I hadn't noticed. Huh."
Zhao Yunlan rolled his eyes—dark and sunken though apparently they were—then stretched until his spine popped. "Okay, you reprobates, the rest of today's free, unless something comes up. Get out of here, get some rest, see you all tomorrow."
Then he went home. Shen Wei wasn't there, of course, being at class. Zhao Yunlan didn't bother with food or a shower, just threw himself down on the bed.
But as exhausted as he was, sleep kept its wary distance; he only managed a restless doze, pulling up the covers when he felt chilly, only to throw them off again.
Shen Wei finally got home, made a dinner that Zhao Yunlan yawned his way through. Afterwards he sat on the couch as Shen Wei finished the kitchen cleanup, listening to the pleasantly domestic clink of dishes and splash of water and thinking that maybe he should get up and help, or at least go admire Shen Wei in rolled-up shirt sleeves...
—Then he was coming awake in darkness with a sudden motion, flailed and then was caught, held close. "It's just me," Shen Wei murmured. Shen Wei's arms were around him, strong enough to lift him easily; Zhao Yunlan didn't need to wrap an arm around Shen Wei's neck to support himself.
He did so anyway, and nestled his head against Shen Wei's shoulder. The flannel was even cozier than he remembered, and Shen Wei's body against his was utterly relaxingly warm, like a hot-water bottle run to the ideal temperature. Zhao Yunlan could feel the stress of the last few days leaching out of him, tight muscles melting like wax in a bath.
Shen Wei set him down on the bed, a little awkwardly with how Zhao Yunlan wouldn't let go of him. It also made it difficult for him to divest Zhao Yunlan of his jeans and shirt, and Zhao Yunlan wouldn't swear that Shen Wei didn't just give up and zap them off in the end. But then he could finally wrap himself around Shen Wei's fuzzy enflanneled warmth with a satisfied sigh. "Mm," Zhao Yunlan said. "So can you control that?"
"Control what?" Shen Wei asked, his voice quiet in the dark, as soft as the flannel.
"You," Zhao Yunlan said, curling in contentedly. "Being so warm—or cool in the summer."
Shen Wei hesitated for a moment, finally confessed, "To a limited extent."
"Effecting the duties of your office," Zhao Yunlan chuckled to himself. If pressed, he was sure Shen Wei could give a compelling case for why ensuring the Haixing Guardian's well-rested condition was a crucial responsibility for the Dixing Envoy.
"Yunlan?"
Zhao Yunlan gave him a squeeze. "S'okay," he said, "This is just between us."
"Always," Shen Wei agreed, and Zhao Yunlan chuckled again, snuggled in and did his part to fulfill that most important duty.