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Each week, Lan Xichen eagerly waits for Friday, purposely assigning himself the counter those evenings instead of remaining holed in the office. Every week, Friday at precisely 6:00 in the evening, one specific customer stops in after his work day to request an extra hot double espresso, and Lan Xichen needs to be present to fill his order. He listens to the indulgent voice in his head that convinces him that it’s important for him to maintain his skills as a barista, instead of allowing them to languish as he manages the operations of the store. He pretends that he doesn't actually craft espresso drinks for every customer that walks through the door, solely for the five minutes it allows him to chat with one tall, handsome, punctual customer.
Fortunately, Wangji is too preoccupied with thoughts of another customer, his boyfriend after much confusion and patience, who happens to teach at the high school one block over, and waltzes in at Cloud Recesses Café each morning before the first bell. Wangji doesn’t question Lan Xichen’s odd yet predictable scheduling quirk when Wei Wuxian sneaks into the office and sits on his brother’s lap, giving Lan Xichen a perfect opportunity each week to type his own name into the Friday closing shift of the schedule spreadsheet.
This particular Friday, shortly before the clock ticks over to the awaited time, Wei Wuxian crashes through the door of their store, eyes frantic, face ashen. Lan Xichen pauses with a rag in his hand, the cleanliness of the counter all but forgotten.
Voice trembling, Wei Wuxian turns his frightened face towards him. “Quick! I need to hide in here! Where’s-“
“Wei Ying.” Wangji steps out from the back just in time for Wei Wuxian to practically sprint around the counter and sink into his brother’s arms. Something has definitely spooked him, given the muted quaking of his normally energetic form. He hears his brother soothe his boyfriend with words, as well as his protective embrace. "I'm here."
Lan Xichen raises his eyebrows at his brother, but before he can inquire about the situation, his breath catches in his throat as the bell chimes to signal another customer entering their store. A vaguely familiar looking and sullen teen scans over him, dramatically rolling his eyes when he spies Wei Wuxian.
Swallowing past slight disappointment, and glancing at the clock to confirm that it is now past his favorite time of the week, Lan Xichen clears his throat, trying to figure out the cause of the current scene. Luckily, the store is devoid of customers around this time on a Friday, sandwiched between the waves of high schoolers hanging out after classes and romantic couples indulging in a nightcap after dates.
“Fairy is tied up to that tree right outside, she won’t come in. I doubt she’s even allowed inside this store.” The teen crosses his arms as he peeks hopefully at Lan Xichen, clearly hoping for an answer that negates his previous statement.
“Mm,” agrees Wangji, before anyone else can respond. Lan Xichen widens his eyes at the stern expression directed towards this boy. Really, Wangji.
“Well,” begins Lan Xichen, ready to mediate as the need arises. “I don’t know exactly who Fairy is but-”
The bell over the door chimes once more, and Lan Xichen instantly loses his train of thought, as his mouth dries up and his hands grow clammy. His favorite customer strides in, nameless and stunning in a charcoal suit, although he is running exactly six minutes late tonight. Not that Lan Xichen is keeping track.
“Jin Ling.” The man’s voice sounds even deeper and sultrier when he’s saying words that don’t involve coffee. Lan Xichen’s knees go a little weak and he grips the counter, thankful he’s hidden behind its safety.
“Uncle! I didn’t know Uncle Wei would be here, too.” Jin Ling, the pouty adolescent, is apparently the nephew of both these men. Lan Xichen peers over at his brother, who seems already aware of the fact that all three of these customers are related. Lan Xichen has heard Wei Wuxian vaguely mention his brother before, but he’s never thought much about him. Except, as it turns out, it appears as though he’s actually held the starring role in most of his daydreams.
“Tch, I don’t care about that. In fact, his screams are the only thing that alerted me to the fact that you chose to come here, instead of meeting at the high school like we planned.” The man glowers at Jin Ling, although truthfully there doesn’t seem to be any heat behind it. “Or did you conveniently forget that we agreed to walk here together?”
“I tried to text you!” Jin Ling’s mouth turns down as he argues. It’s petulant but somehow still endearing. “I didn’t want to kill my whole afternoon at school, so I went home first to feed and walk Fairy, then bring her along. I got her so you could see her.”
The man’s face softens and his eyes widen, highlighting the blue hue hidden underneath the stormy grey. Pretty. Lan Xichen wonders if he could capture them in a painting, like the surface of the ocean after it rains, or the gathering clouds right before the lightning strikes. There are intricate facets to the color of his eyes, and it reminds Lan Xichen of water and power, the tempestuous yet reliable nature of the sea. Blinking, he turns his wandering imagination back to the gathering at hand.
Clapping a large hand on his nephew’s shoulder, the man shakes his head and strides past Jin Ling to approach the counter. Lan Xichen straightens his posture and squares his shoulders. He decides to be bold and forego his typical greeting in favor of familiarity. His own uncle, strict and inflexible, would disapprove of this obvious lack of manners in service, but Lan Xichen finds he doesn’t care. Uncle Lan may still own Cloud Recesses Café in name, but it’s him and Wangji who are here now, every day. Perhaps it’s time they run things how they see fit.
“What drink can I get started for you,” sounds too impersonal, and Lan Xichen feels more like taking a risk tonight as opposed to blindly following how they were trained years ago. It’s possible that it’s the slight alteration in the predictable rhythm of his limited dynamic with Jiang Cheng, or maybe it’s the knowledge that he’s currently left out of the loop which ties his brother to this family. Idly, he muses if it’s simply a vague sense of loneliness that guides his words, but this seems more like an opportunity to seize a moment in his life, one he has pictured many times before.
“The usual or a surprise?” Lan Xichen hears the flirtatious undertone in his voice, and his ears heat. He hopes the blush isn’t visible to this regimented man who seems mildly taken aback at the question.
“Surprise me. Even if it’s not exactly what I’d order, I’m sure it’ll be good. Your espresso is the best in the area.” The man’s handsomely sharp face twists into a scowl when Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing, fear over Fairy all but forgotten. Lan Xichen glances out the window to see a docile and attractive Husky leashed to the shade tree on the sidewalk. Just as he's about to inquire about her, he hears the next two words out of Wei Wuxian's mouth.
“Jiang Cheng, you must be joking! Who are you trying to fool?” Wei Wuxian takes a small step away from Wangji, although he sees that his brother’s arms are still impossibly around the teacher’s waist. When he glances over, he notes that Jiang Cheng has also noticed the clingy behavior with a mild grimace. “You complain if your precious double espresso shot isn’t hot enough! Ha! Like hell you’d drink a skim sugar-free raspberry latte just because you have a huge cr-”
“Wei Wuxian!” Lan Xichen startles at the stern tone of Jiang Cheng, although he’d be lying if he didn’t admit it heats something inside of him, something besides his ears.
Jiang Cheng. Lan Xichen turns the name over in his mind, enjoying the cadence of it but longing to taste it on his tongue.
He moves to begin pulling the espresso, double-checking the temperature, listening to the brothers bicker in the background as he works. With a smile, he starts a second drink. He feels the weight of Wangji’s stare on him, which he resolutely ignores. He dawdles, attempting to control the shaking of his hands while he works to perfect the order.
Finally, Lan Xichen finishes the beverages. He hears a break in the banter and slides both coffees towards his favorite customer with a shy smile. “For you...Jiang Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng’s mouth opens, lips perfectly parted, and Lan Xichen holds up a hand to stop the imminent refusal.
“On the house. One extra hot double espresso, and one skim sugar-free raspberry latte.” Lan Xichen cannot help the mischievous grin that spreads across his face.
Pressing his lips tightly together, Jiang Cheng nods. Unless Lan Xichen is mistaken, a pink blush stains his cheeks. He follows its rosy progress as it spreads over the bridge of his nose and crawls down his neck. “Thank you. That sounds...”
“It sounds like something I would drink, Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian crows, voice laced with mirth. “Pass it over if you’re not even going to try it.”
Lan Xichen’s stomach twists into a knot, unsure how to convince Jiang Cheng to at least peek at the latte, even if he doesn’t deign to take a sip of a crafted coffee drink.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try it!” Jiang Cheng frowns. Lan Xichen yearns to smooth his thumb over the creases in his forehead and the furrow between his eyebrows. He wonders if his skin feels warm and soft, or sensitive and ticklish. He wonders if his touch would be welcome or if these etched facial lines serve as a defense against unwanted advances and interaction.
“Well, when you vomit it out in disgust, spit it right into my mouth like a mama bird so I can still enjoy it.” Wei Wuxian’s laugh rings through the Cloud Recesses Café. If Lan Xichen wasn’t so nervous about the latte, and a little disturbed by the implied visual, he wouldn’t be able to help but be cheered by the sound.
Jiang Cheng scoffs and shakes his head, although there’s a definite fondness to it, one which Lan Xichen understands as a brother himself. Jiang Cheng raises the mug to his mouth and closes his eyes, and before Lan Xichen can refrain himself, he darts out a hand and wraps his fingers around the other man's slender wrist.
Pausing instantly, Jiang Cheng lowers the mug and gapes at Lan Xichen. “What is it?”
“Umm,” mumbles Lan Xichen, brain screeching to a halt as he senses Jiang Cheng’s racing heartbeat. He slides his thumb over his pulse point, before releasing the man from his uninvited grip. “I drew latte art...for you.”
Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling both gasp, and Lan Xichen swears he hears Wangji’s incredulity vibrate in the air.
Jiang Cheng watches him, stormy eyes gauging something - what, Lan Xichen isn’t sure, but he’s certain it isn’t anything bad. A light and airy flutter in his chest has him reaching for the counter again to calm himself. Jiang Cheng’s gaze finally flicks down to the latte, and he breathes out a quiet, appreciative sound.
Despite the mild chaos of the small, impromptu gathering, silence reigns throughout Cloud Recesses Café. Everyone waits for Jiang Cheng’s assessment, or at least, Lan Xichen assumes that’s the reason for the sudden hushed atmosphere. It’s the only reason for him. While he fancies himself a capable artist of multiple mediums, he’s always been mesmerized by latte art, learning the skill with focused dedication at his uncle's side. It’s fleeting by design, to be appreciated only before it is consumed, never to be replicated or repeated. And right now, his soul spasms at the thought of how this particular artwork is being received.
The solemnity is broken briefly when Jin Ling sidles over to see what’s caught his uncle's attention, although Jiang Cheng pays him no mind. The boy whips out his phone, snapping a quick picture, and then fiddling with the image. Soon, Wei Wuxian’s phone crows like a rooster, and he slides it out of his pocket to check it.
“That’s a fantastic shot, A-Ling!” proclaims Wei Wuxian. A tiny pang of disappointment hits Lan Xichen that he has heard someone else’s opinion on his art before getting Jiang Cheng’s impression, the only one that matters to him. Lan Xichen glances towards Wei Wuxian, with a gracious smile and a quick reassuring nod to Wangji at his side. “And that’s really nice latte art! I’ve never seen a-”
“Why?” Jiang Cheng interrupts his brother, as he wrenches his eyes off the art and stares at Lan Xichen, his question raspy and brittle, as though it costs him dearly to ask.
The silence between them hangs taut as Lan Xichen grapples with how to respond. He considers what lack of honesty has led to in his life, and chooses to be as truthful as his heart allows. “It’s a nine-petaled lotus.”
“I can see that,” retorts Jiang Cheng, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that opens him up in a way that makes him even more attractive. “But why? ”
Gesturing at the other man’s waist, Lan Xichen shrugs one shoulder. “You always wear a nine-petaled lotus charm on your belt. I assume it’s important to you and it’s something I associate with only you.”
“You pay attention to me?” Jiang Cheng appears genuinely surprised. If there were fewer people around, Lan Xichen would consider throwing propriety to the wind and pull him into an embrace, anything to get the hesitant look of self doubt off his face.
“More than I should probably admit,” agrees Lan Xichen with a rueful chuckle. Perhaps this can be played off, although his gut twists at the thought that his shameless, forward display will sour this entire exchange. They stand on a precipice, hovering on the edge of it together - the thought boils his blood and scorches his nerves. “I’d enjoy hearing about the significance of your lotus charm...someday…”
As the admission fills the space between them, Lan Xichen realizes it’s true, bared and now wished into the open. He’s gotten glimpses of Jiang Cheng’s nuanced personality in their numerous interactions over the past several months, close to a year if he considers the passing of seasons to mark the time - the rolled up shirt sleeves displaying sweat-dampened forearms, the wind-kissed cheeks and chapped lips, snow dusting broad shoulders and gloved hands , and dark, dripping hair sending rivulets of water down the planes of a sharp face.
Now that Lan Xichen has gotten a tease of a bigger picture, already he wants more than what they have - shallow talk to occupy the silence, idle chatter about current affairs and work nonsense and weekend plans, brief conversation about nothing, but perhaps it’s actually been everything.
Lan Xichen has learned that Jiang Cheng cannot sing nor carry a tune, but that he has completed three triathlons and wants to attempt an Ironman before he turns forty years old. He knows he works as a biomechanical engineer by trade, but that his true passion lies in history and languages. He has discovered that Jiang Cheng has an extensive culinary palate, volunteers at a humane society, and has been the primary caregiver for his nephew since the boy was an infant, although Lan Xichen has never pried into the reason why. He yearns to uncover every side of this man, seeing him at work and at play, a witness to him laughing, relaxing, sleeping.
Lan Xichen sucks in a breath and traps it, hoping he hasn’t overstepped, reading too much into whatever has so gradually seemed to develop between them. Just because he craves it, justifies it, wraps his greedy fingers around it and clutches it to his chest, does not mean it’s his to take.
Jiang Cheng lurches forward, but stops himself, holds himself back from something, at the last moment, placing the latte on the counter with a bang. The lotus survives the harsh treatment, petals standing clear and proud despite the sloshing waves of milk foam. He clenches his hands into fists, and Lan Xichen notices his chest heaving as he stares down at them.
In his periphery, Wei Wuxian walks towards them, patting Jiang Cheng’s tense hand and whispering something into his ear. After he shifts away, Jin Ling mutters under his breath and playfully shoves Wei Wuxian, causing a grunt from Wangji. Distantly, the bell over the door chimes. However, Lan Xichen barely notices any of the commotion, as he focuses solely on Jiang Cheng’s fidgeting on the other side of the counter. The next thing he knows, the café is empty, save the two of them.
Just as Lan Xichen is gathering his scattered thoughts, Jiang Cheng releases a torrent, his deep timbre resonant. “You’re here every Friday, and I come in just to see you, even if a double espresso after work makes it hard to sleep. You smell like sandalwood and mint, it lingers on the cup after you hand it to me. There’s always a cloud somewhere on your outfit, one time it was on the back pocket of your jeans, which...was really hard to stop looking at. You’re unfairly good looking, especially when the steam makes your skin flushed and sweaty. You seem to like the color blue, which I think...”
Hanging on his every dulcet word, Lan Xichen leans forward, probably in danger of tipping over given the churning in his gut and the pounding of his heart. “What? What do you think?”
“I think...” Jiang Cheng licks his bottom lip and Lan Xichen tracks the movement, feeling light-headed and giddy. “I think...blue makes your eyes...look like the sun reflecting off the water during sunset. They’re beautiful.”
“Sunset,” mumbles Lan Xichen, tongue suddenly too big against his teeth, eyes dry and unblinking. Elation causes clumsy, honest words to spill uncontrollably out of mouth. “ You’re beautiful...every Friday, but especially when you wear the lilac shirt with the violet tie, you know the one with the thin silver diagonal stripes?”
“Do you have a name?” Jiang Cheng flinches after he asks, the frown returning to his face. “I mean, of course you have a name, I was just wondering if you’d finally tell me. I’ve been hoping to get it written on a take-out cup along with your phone number one day, but maybe that’s only something that happens in movies.”
“It’s Lan Huan,” answers Lan Xichen with a smile, pointing at the business cards on display in front of the register. He rests his hand gently over Jiang Cheng’s fist, waiting until it relaxes underneath him. Jiang Cheng is obviously coiled tightly, reminding Lan Xichen of a jungle cat - poised, graceful, fluid in motion and fierce on the attack. “My family still believes in courtesy names, which is what's printed on those cards, but I personally don’t much care for them. It’s a bit old-fashioned, so Lan Huan will do.”
As something occurs to Lan Xichen, he pauses, his fingers flying off of Jiang Cheng’s hands as though scalded. “You must have met my brother by now. Why didn’t you ask him? Or your brother?”
Jiang Chengs growls, intensifying the prowling feline image in Lan Xichen’s mind. “Wei Wuxian is useless. He instructed him not to tell me, that if I wanted to know I’d have to sack up and ask you myself. I don’t think either of them believed I ever would.”
Unable to suppress a laugh, Lan Xichen clicks his tongue in amusement. He picks up the forgotten double espresso. “Actually, why don’t I get you a new espresso. This one has surely gone tepid while you were teased into drinking something you dislike.” He turns away with the cup in his hand.
“Wait!” Jiang Cheng blurts out, startling Lan Xichen. He flushes, the pretty pink painting his features once more. Lan Xichen is positive he could capture all the colors of Jiang Cheng if given the opportunity. His fingers itch for his oils and a canvas.
“What is it?” Lan Xichen inquires, an attempt to distract himself from the swell of excitement crashing over his body, and yet reveling in the buoyant sensation all the same.
Jiang Cheng ducks his head, one hand going to rub roughly at the back of his neck. Forget the canvas. Lan Xichen would rather use his brushes directly on Jiang Cheng’s skin. He stares, captivated by this man’s every motion and twitch, mesmerized by the hesitant words and rushed observations.
“I was wondering if you’d like to get a coffee with me sometime.” Jiang Cheng snaps his mouth shut and rolls his eyes, shoulders sagging. “Shit. Not that you want to drink coffee when you’re not working in a coffee house. Forget that.”
“No!” It is Lan Xichen’s turn to cause a scene, and he barely restrains himself from grabbing the other man’s shirtsleeve. “I’d love to drink coffee with you.”
Jiang Cheng’s face lights up, the shyest smile playing at his lips. He wears every expression well, but Lan Xichen thinks he enjoys this pleasant one the best so far. “Yeah?”
“Definitely. I have to finish my shift but then we can stay as long as we like.” Lan Xichen is certain of his decision when a grin contorts Jiang Cheng’s face into something radiant and content. He’s handsome, and there’s so much more beneath his shell, starting to shine out through the faint, hairline cracks in his polished armor - Lan Xichen craves nothing more than to dive inside and discover everything Jiang Cheng has protectively tucked deep within him.
Later, as his hand cups Jiang Cheng’s around the metal pitcher, and he shows him how to carefully steam the milk, Lan Xichen feels a lightness in his bones. When a loose strand of hair is combed back behind his ear by nervous yet elegant fingers, a stuttered tempo beats in his heart. Before they eventually part for the evening, after all the shy laughter and effortless conversation, after numbers are eagerly tapped into phones, after a light kiss is reverently pressed against his cheek, an effervescence bubbles throughout Lan Xichen. It feels like the faint stirrings of love.