Bullets chip away at the brickwork that’s providing the only bit of cover available to them. Clouds of red dust float past on the breeze, carrying with it the faint acrid smell of gunpowder. Zhan Yao tries to ignore it all and keep his focus, but he knows he’s out of his depth here and his palms are clammy where they grip the butt of his gun.
Next to him Bai Yutong is steady and sure as he fires back staccato volleys, and Zhan Yao’s thudding heartbeat calms slightly as he takes his cues from Bai Yutong’s confidence. He glances at his watch. Back-up should be here soon, but each second feels like a lifetime.
Bai Yutong’s hands are distractingly efficient as he ejects the spent cartridge and replaces it with a full one. He must notice Zhan Yao’s attention because he smirks and presses a quick kiss to Zhan Yao’s parted lips.
Bai Yutong shrugs a shoulder before he peers around the corner and fires off a couple of shots. “I can’t help myself when you look at me like that.”
Zhan Yao opens his mouth to ask just what he looks like that would make the middle of a gunfight seem like an appropriate moment for kisses, but in the silent pauses between shots being fired he can just make out the wail of approaching sirens.
He breathes out in relief as the gunshots stop; the shouts from their attackers fading as they opt to flee. He doesn’t loosen his grip on his gun until Bai Yutong relaxes and holsters his own, but it still takes Zhan Yao two attempts to put the gun away. He has to clench his fists to stop himself from wiping his palms on his trousers.
By the time he hears the shouts of their team he’s got control of himself again. The ebb of adrenaline leaves him tired, but they still have a job to do. He licks the taste of Bai Yutong’s kiss from his lips, knowing he’ll get to replace it later, and uses that certainty to straighten his shoulders and dredge up a second wind.