Chapter Text
Lan Wangji is so very, very weak. Wei Ying could tell him he’d murdered someone, and Lan Wangji would help him hide the body without question, superhero alter ego be damned. This is a problem .
He needs to tell Piao Chong, he concludes, on their next patrol. After all, his partner is in contact with the Guardian who gave them both their Miraculouses - it is his decision whether Lan Wangji will be allowed to keep his Miraculous, compromised as he is. (If Piao Chong says he can no longer be Hei Mao -
Piao Chong will not say that. Piao Chong is in no position to judge, after all. And Piao Chong is kind, and just . Lan Wangji trusts Piao Chong, even if he cannot trust himself.)
“How are you this fine night, then?” Piao Chong calls, alighting beside Lan Wangji in their customary meeting place. “Usual route? I’m having a slow day, so you’ll probably beat me.”
“I would rather talk,” Lan Wangji says quietly, keeping his hands folded neatly at his sides.
Piao Chong glances sideways at Lan Wangji, eyes narrowing under his mask. “You okay, Mao?”
“Fine.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Piao Chong snorts through a spurt of laughter, but doesn’t press the issue; Lan Wangji feels a surge of over-fond gratitude, the kind he’s been learning to conceal since childhood. Instead, Piao Chong throws himself down onto the rooftop at Lan Wangji’s side for as long as he can bear to be still; Lan Wangji sits beside him, crosses his legs, and listens quietly as Piao Chong chatters animatedly about his day, his life, his trials and tribulations. There are details omitted, of course, due to the demands of their secret identities. Lan Wangji knows he should bring up Wei Ying, but cannot bear to disrupt the flow of Piao Chong’s conversation. It’s … comfortable . Lan Wangji sinks into his own skin, feels the weight of his sword against his knees as he settles it across his lap, and breathes.
Piao Chong is telling stories, now, about his family, albeit in vague-enough terms that nothing he says is identifiable. He has mentioned them before - an elder sister and younger brother, and their parents who adopted him - but Lan Wangji listens attentively anyway. Piao Chong’s family is important to him, he knows. It’s evident in the way he speaks of them. In the cadence of his voice, the motion of his hands, the light in his unnatural silver eyes. Lan Wangji wonders, briefly, if Piao Chong considers him, Hei Mao, a part of his family - if he ever talks about him like this - and allows that thought to linger comfortably , instead of quelling it immediately like he knows his uncle would prefer he do. “And my jie said that he was allowed to think that stuff about her,” Piao Chong is saying, and Lan Wangji refocuses on his voice. “But I figured he was being a peacock and a dick, so I, uh. I might have hit him.”
Maybe Lan Wangji was not listening as closely as he thought.
Piao Chong laughs again as he glances over at Lan Wangji. “Your face ! It’s fine, he hit me back but he was really weak. I don’t think I even bruised. Can’t remember though, this was ages ago.”
Lan Wangji takes too long to respond, and Piao Chong must interpret his silence as an answer in its own right, because after a short pause he keeps talking. “So I got in a tiny bit of trouble, but nothing serious. It was fine, right? Nothing major. But then Madam - uh, my adopted mother? She was so angry. It was crazy. She kept talking about how I was disgracing her reputation and letting the family down, even though her other favourite tactic to win arguments is to point out that I’m not technically part of the family.”
Lan Wangji processes this with its due consideration. “Cruel of her.”
“Meh, a little,” Piao Chong allows, and shrugs it off. “Doesn’t really matter if I’m not enough for her, right? After all, she’d change her mind real quick if she knew I was Piao Chong.”
Lan Wangji blinks. “You are more than enough.”
“Aiya, Hei Mao, I’m not enough for you , either,” Piao Chong says wryly, through a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sometimes I think I’d be better at being Hei Mao, you know? Than Piao Chong. After all, I … destroy everything around me as it is, so. It’d seem appropriate.”
Lan Wangji frowns. “You heal. You create.”
“Well,” Piao Chong prevaricates, and flashes the full force of his grin at Lan Wangji; it has too many teeth. Lan Wangji wants to hurt whoever conditioned Piao Chong so, leaving him with such little sense of his own self-worth. “I try.”
“We try,” Lan Wangji agrees, and crosses his legs. He considers meditating. But he discards the idea before long; Piao Chong is warm and close by his shoulder, too full of life for Lan Wangji to block out. He sighs and roves his eyes over the skyline, searching idly for the signs of an akuma attack, waiting patiently until Piao Chong sees fit to continue their conversation.
After a time, Piao Chong shifts position until he’s sprawled even more clumsily over the rooftop, chin propped on the heel of his palm. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you mean, you try? You’re a perfect Hei Mao, a perfect superhero. You’re so good , and you know all the rules, and you do everything right. I can’t even remember to cleanse the akuma without being reminded half the time.”
Lan Wangji shrugs. He did not expect the conversation to go in this direction, but Piao Chong exudes a mien of reassuring acceptance; it makes him want to talk. “I am not a good Hei Mao. My kwami is … I am irritated by my kwami,” he amends - it’s his fault, not Plagg’s. “And I cannot cope with bad luck.”
Piao Chong snorts. “At least I’ve got experience dealing with that, huh?”
Lan Wangji makes a vaguely questioning noise in the back of his throat - it’s out before he can stop himself. Piao Chong has a habit of forcing him to let down his guard until things slip through.
“Oh! Not when I’m transformed.” Piao Chong flutters his fingers like he’s making a point, emphasising the black-and-ret patterning of his gloves. “But as my civilian self I’m crazy clumsy. Always falling over. You wouldn’t recognise me.” There’s a strange tilt to his grin, like he knows something Lan Wangji doesn’t. “You’d be perfect, though, if I was - always catching me. My knight in black catsuit. Swoon.” He places a theatrical hand to his brow and slumps dramatically against Lan Wangji’s thigh.
“Not perfect.”
“Huh?”
“Being Hei Mao,” Lan Wangji says, “it means I do not have to be perfect.”
Piao Chong sighs from where he’s lying on Lan Wangji’s leg, and then sits straight up. “ God . Who hurt you?”
Lan Wangji does not dignify that with a response. Besides, he’s gotten better at telling when Piao Chong is teasing.
Piao Chong laughs again, clearly not expecting an answer. “It’s, like … the opposite for me, I think. But it helps me too. When I’m not Piao Chong, no one really takes much notice of me.”
“I would notice you,” Lan Wangji defends. This seems like very important information. He is not in love with Piao Chong, but he cares deeply for his partner, would lay down his life for him without question. Piao Chong, much like Wei Ying, is a sun in nature - he attracts Lan Wangji’s attention wherever he goes. Lan Wangji cannot imagine a world in which he would not feel drawn to Piao Chong.
“ Right ,” Piao Chong snickers. “Despite the masks, and the Miraculous magic that disguises what little you can see of our faces behind them, and the weird silver and gold eyes that are colours that literally no one could possibly have naturally -”
“Not by your face,” Lan Wangji snaps.
“I dunno.” Piao Chong thumbs his nose, in an oddly familiar mannerism that Lan Wangji can’t place. “I don’t think you’d recognise me even if I … seduced you, or something.”
“ Piao Chong ,” Lan Wangji hisses.
“I’m not sorry,” Piao Chong sing-songs, and flashes a radiant smile. Then he sobers. “No, but seriously, I think being Piao Chong is good for me. It’s like … a second chance. You were talking about how expectations are too much for you, right?”
“Mn.”
“But I think I need them,” Piao Chong admits, a startling, raw openness in his tone. “I need people that … care enough whether I turn out okay or not, you know? Being Piao Chong is a second chance. For me. To prove I can make things right. Be wise. Be good.”
Lan Wangji should speak, he knows. He should say something reassuring. Something pertinent. Something concise but poignant. But he can’t make the words come, and Piao Chong seems content to keep talking into the comfortable silence sitting between them.
“Plus,” Piao Chong continues, and his tone is still light, but Lan Wangji knows it’s a front. “I wouldn’t trust myself with Cataclysm, if I’m being honest.” He mugs at Hei Mao’s shoulder, like Wei Ying sometimes does to Jiang Cheng. The gesture almost makes Lan Wangji smile. “I’m glad you’re Hei Mao, though,” Piao Chong continues. “I trust you with it. The city trusts you.”
“And I trust you to heal everything,” Lan Wangji admits. His eyes are fixed on the city skyline. He is determinedly not looking at Piao Chong.
Piao Chong coughs aggressively, and Lan Wangji gives him a helpful pat on the back - presumably there’s something stuck in his throat. “ Hei Mao ,” Piao Chong complains. “You always say things like that! I have asked you to warn me.”
Lan Wangji rolls his eyes, a little fondly, but then remembers with a start why he is here. He needs to explain. Needs to tell Piao Chong how his restraint has been affected, how he has endangered his identity. He cannot lie. Even though he wears a mask, he cannot truly hide, he reflects; if he were prone to fidgeting, he would reach up to adjust the golden cloud motif in the centre of his dark cat’s mask. He is not prone to fidgeting. He is, however, prone to thinking in circles, and losing track of what he needs to say by distracting himself and letting the moment in the conversation pass, until he has no chance to speak.
“Piao Chong.”
“Yeah?”
“You flirt.”
“I don’t just flirt,” Piao Chong pouts.
“You … like me.” Lan Wangji acknowledges the thing sitting between them, which is something he never does. Piao Chong flirts and Hei Mao turns away; this is how things are, and Lan Wangji’s deviation from the rules sends the world spiralling out of balance, or so it feels. But it needs to be said. He needs to tell Piao Chong about Wei Ying.
“Yeah,” Piao Chong says ruefully. “I like you, I love you, I’ve been in love with you for a whole year now. Whatever. That’s just how things are. Is something up?”
“If there were no one else,” Lan Wangji begins, before losing his nerve and trailing off.
Piao Chong stiffens, before dissolving into a surprisingly soft giggle. “But there’s someone else! Is this your way of telling me that you’ve got a cruuush?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “I … apologise?” He doesn’t know if he should. He does not owe Piao Chong his love, even if he owes Piao Chong his life; his heart belongs to Wei Ying. This is a central truth to Lan Wangji’s universe, one he accepted almost a year ago under an umbrella in the rain and has not dared to question since. All the same, guilt churns in his stomach. If this final rejection, this grave honesty that Piao Chong cannot joke his way out of, affects their partnership -
“Hey, Hei Mao,” Piao Chong says gently. “Don’t worry, don’t panic. I’m not upset. It’s not like anything’s really changed, right? I like you, and you don’t like me.” He seems strangely content as he says this, even a little smug, and Lan Wangji realises with a stab of some emotion that Piao Chong’s feelings for Hei Mao have obviously never run that deep. This shouldn’t hurt him - it’s not like he’s in love with Piao Chong - but it’s so foreign to him, this idea of a halfway crush. (Lan Wangji has loved Wei Ying for almost a year, since the moment he first set eyes on him. The only reason he brings it up now is that his recent … weakness, in Wei Ying’s bedroom , proves that his yearning, his wanting , could endanger his superhero identity. Piao Chong deserves to know.) It feels like a failing on Hei Mao’s part, rather than an eccentricity on Piao Chong’s. Like he’s not worth loving the whole way.
Belatedly, Lan Wangji realises he’s been silent too long and Piao Chong is waiting for him to speak. “Mn,” he agrees.
“But why are you bringing this up?” Piao Chong says slyly, around a grin. “Has a pretty girl caught your eye? Here, let me guess.” He casts a glance around and throws out a wild finger. Lan Wangji can’t work out for a moment what on earth he could be pointing towards, this high up, but things become clear when he follows the line of Piao Chong’s arm - a billboard emblazoned with Luo Qingyang’s visage and her stage name. “You like Mian Mian!”
Lan Wangji can feel his ears flushing, and thanks Plagg for the unkempt strands of hair that obscure them. “No.” He has actually modelled with Luo Qingyang, in the past - there was one memorable photoshoot in which he was expected to pose as her boyfriend. She was businesslike and competent. He suspects she does not think much of the frivolous, flirty image her brand has worked hard to bring her.
Piao Chong pouts theatrically, and Lan Wangji’s chest swells at his partner’s antics. This is good. He does not deserve it. “What’s her name then?” Piao Chong teases. “Someone from high society like you, I bet. Hmm … one of the Wens?”
“No.”
“A pretty girl from your school.”
Lan Wangji notes his irritation, and quells it. “ No .”
“Well give me a hint then.”
“Our secret identities -” Lan Wangji cuts himself off. He brought Wei Ying up for a reason - his weakness could endanger his identity. (He doesn’t think he’s strong enough to deny Wei Ying anything, if he asks, not even are you Hei Mao? ) “I need to tell you -”
“I’m joking ,” Piao Chong snorts, and shoves at Lan Wangji’s shoulder again. “Am I guessing the wrong gender, is that it? Do you like a pretty boy from your school?”
Lan Wangji tenses, but Piao Chong’s expression is still open, has not changed. Perhaps he is teasing still. But Lan Wangji feels safer with Piao Chong than he ever has with his family, traditional as they are; he sighs, opens his eyes, and makes the barest sound of affirmation.
“Nice!” Piao Chong sticks his fist towards Lan Wangji, who ‘pounds it’ with none of Piao Chong’s enthusiasm. (He notes, dimly, that his hands are shaking.) “Be gay, fight crimes! Tell me about him, then.” There’s a glint to Piao Chong’s eyes. It’s vaguely unsettling, and strangely … familiar? “Who is this boy who has captured my Hei Mao’s heart?”
“... He is fierce,” Lan Wangji says, against his better judgment. “Clever. Resolute.” He pauses, and adds, “Ridiculous.”
Piao Chong is silent. This is worryingly uncharacteristic of him. Lan Wangji opens his mouth to comment, but Piao Chong forestalls him with a giggle and an exclamation: “Don’t worry, Hei Mao, I’m fine. Just … thinking.”
“About?” Lan Wangji inquires, polite.
“Your mystery boy,” Piao Chong says through a devastatingly false grin. “Tell me! Is he pretty? ”
Lan Wangji rolls his own. (An inappropriately rude reaction, and one he would certainly never employ as the second heir to the Lan fashion empire; but he is Hei Mao, and he is with Piao Chong. He is safely anonymous. He does not have to be quite so perfect, here.) “Yes,” he admits, the confession clumsy on his lips. What does it matter if he tells Piao Chong about Wei Ying? It should not feel as significant as it does. “He is … stunning. Takes my breath away.”
“Aw,” Piao Chong coos, but his tone is forced, and he sounds like he is choking. “That’s adorable.”
Lan Wangji can tell he has said something to elicit this reaction from Piao Chong - somehow, he has said the wrong thing. (Perhaps, he realises too late, he should not tell the superhero who is in love with him about the civilian he was rejected for.) “I will leave,” he says quickly, and then winces in sync with Piao Chong at his clumsy phrasing. “I mean - it is late. I will … go home and sleep.”
“Yes that’s probably for the best,” Piao Chong says, and then hastily, “Oh, shit, I mean - I’m sorry . I didn’t want to make things weird -”
“There should be no apologies between us,” Lan Wangji tells him, and means it. He doesn’t realise until he’s home (at 8:45 pm on the dot) and dropping his transformation, heading to the kitchen to sate Plagg’s relentless desire for cheese, that he failed to tell Piao Chong about what happened with Wei Ying.
(Plagg, when he hears this, chuckles for a long moment. Then he covers his mouth with a tiny paw and screams into it about ‘oblivious idiots’. He does not elucidate as to what bothers him when Lan Wangji asks.)