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Chapter Text

One perk of being Head Boy, Xichen thinks, is that no one really questions his presence in any part of the castle, not even when he’s simply snuggled into an armchair in a common room that isn’t his, munching on ice mice while waiting for Wangji.

He hasn’t seen his baby brother in a while, other than in passing between classes, and during mealtimes at the Great Hall, and he finally has the chance to drop by and say hi.

So when Wangji walks into the common room, blinking at Xichen’s presence, Xichen simply smiles and holds up his box of ice mice. “Do you want any, Wangji?”

His brother blinks, and then shakes his head. The horror in his eyes is invisible to most people, but Xichen can see the absolute refusal in every line of Wangji’s body.

...Ah well. Ice mice were an acquired taste, after all. The plummet in body temperature and subsequent shivering really was something to get used to.

(Besides, Xichen knew Wangji would never eat either ice mice or sugar mice- seven year-old Xichen had made sure of that, when he’d showed Wangji a sugar mouse. The memory is still held fondly in his mind, the childish adoration on Wangji’s little face, the low murmur of, “Cute.” Of course, seven year-old Xichen had proceeded to traumatise four year-old Wangji after, by popping the entire mouse into his mouth. The horrified shriek of “Brother!!!” had caused their uncle to panic so much, and it had been glorious .

...Yeah, Wangji had a reason for not eating sugar mice and ice mice. 

A completely justified reason.)

So Xichen shrugs, and pulls the box of ice mice back to him, placing another in his mouth and relishing the flush of cold shivers down his spine. He pulls his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, and settles himself into the familiar warmth.

Then the Ravenclaw Tower door opens, and the excitable call of “Lan Zhan!” heralds Wei Wuxian’s arrival before the boy himself is even visible.

Immediately, Wangji softens a little at the edges, his eyes going soft and shoulders relaxing, and Xichen really does have to wonder at the effect Wei Wuxian has on his baby brother. He is just about to tease Wangji, tug him close and ruffle his hair, when Wangji steps forward and grabs Xichen’s box of ice mice out of his hands.

Xichen blinks, too stunned to react, and watches as Wangji grimaces, then upends the entire box of ice mice into his mouth, just as Wei Wuxian walks into the common room. 

Why would- what was Wangji doing ?

“Ah-! Lan Zhan, I didn’t know you liked ice mice!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, immediately hurrying over. “But that’s not the way you eat them, silly, you’re gonna freeze!”

Already, Wangji is beginning to shiver, and Xichen can see the way he grits his teeth, just a little, to stop them from chattering. Why would Wangji do something like that? It was- it was completely irrational, Wangji didn't even like ice mice! And even Xichen himself would never eat ice mice that way!

Then Wei Wuxian tsks, eyes concerned as he rushes forward to pull Wangji close, pulling his cloak off his shoulders and transfiguring it into a large blanket, which he proceeds to bundle around Wangji's shoulders before ushering him close to the fireplace, pushing Wangji down into a recently vacated plush armchair, whose previous occupant had been met with a quick glare by Wei Wuxian, and scuttled off with a quiet squeak.

Oh, Xichen thinks. Oh .

A vague theory begins to form in his mind, and Xichen watches as Wei Wuxian presses himself into the gap between Wangji's body and the arm of the couch, unwrapping the blanket for the briefest moment to wriggle in before he wraps them both up securely once more.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian sighs, leaning up to pepper soft kisses over Wangji's cheeks and nose, hands coming up to cradle his cheeks. "Really, that's not the way to eat ice mice, look how cold you are now! Aren't you lucky to have this amazing boyfriend to warm you up, huh?"

Wangji's ears flush, red enough that Xichen can see them even from this distance, but his brother simply makes a soft sound of agreement and presses closer to Wei Wuxian's side, tilting his head up as if demanding more kisses.

Xichen sighs. His suspicions were correct, then.

...He was fairly certain Wangji did not need to forcibly ingest an entire box of ice mice for Wei Wuxian to cuddle him, however.

Still, Wangji is rather adorable like this, ears bright red and head ducked into the crook of Wei Wuxian’s neck and shoulder, wrapped up entirely in a too-large blanket while Wei Wuxian pets his hair and whispers sweet nothings in his ear.

Wangji and his boyfriend are sweet- too sweet, in fact, possibly sweeter than the sugar quills Wangji favours and definitely sweet enough to make Xichen’s teeth ache. But Wangji is happy, far happier than Xichen has ever seen him, and Xichen will never begrudge Wangji his happiness, especially not when Wei Wuxian was such a good fit for his baby brother. Wei Wuxian had managed what Xichen had never been able to do, after all. He’d dragged Wangji out of his shell, given Wangji friends, given Wangji happiness. He’d even made Wangji lose some of his carefully crafted control, made him show some of that childish petulance that Xichen hadn’t seen since they were young children.

...But no matter how good Wei Wuxian was for Wangji, Xichen had no desire to see his baby brother necking on the couch with Wei Wuxian.

“I shall take my leave,” he announces to no one in particular, though the few waves he gets from the occasional raven is gratifying. His gaze lands on Wangji, who meets his gaze for the barest of moments, and Xichen offers his brother a smile. “It does not look like Wangji will be free anytime soon, anyway.”

Wangji has the decency to flush, ears pink, but does not detach from Wei Wuxian. Xichen laughs, softly, and pushes his way out of the Ravenclaw common room.

It is good that Wangji is this happy, and perhaps… perhaps Xichen should grab another box of ice mice and pay A-Yao and Mingjue a visit.

Chapter Text

Xichen, Mingjue and Meng Yao gather in the Hufflepuff common room, as they usually do whenever they happen to want a picnic. 

(The Slytherin common room is strictly for homework, politics, and if Meng Yao is busy, while Gryffindor remains unvisited except during celebrations, because as rowdy as Gryffindor is, they tend to throw the best parties.)

There are blankets and beanbags, a few food baskets and the occasional piece of homework lying around, and Xichen wonders if this is the perfect time to pop the question.

“Da-ge, A-Yao- would either of you perhaps like some ice mice?”

The reply from Mingjue is immediate, a look of horror on his face even as he immediately backs away. “Fuck no , Xichen, how can you stand eating those… things ?”

Meng Yao, on the other hand, shakes his head awkwardly. “Thank you for the offer, er-ge, but I don’t think I want to snack at the moment?” 

It’s hardly surprising- the only other person in the castle who actually enjoys ice mice, as far as Xichen knows, is Professor Wen Ruohan. Still, for ninety-nine percent of the population to detest it… 

Xichen huffs. 

“How am I going to cuddle either of you if you won’t eat the ice mice?”

Mingjue chokes, and nearly falls off his chosen beanbag. “I’m sorry, what .”

“I said, how am I going to cuddle either of you if you won’t eat any ice mice?”

He is pouting, Xichen knows, but seeing Wangji’s antics in order to be noticed by Wei Wuxian -not that Wangji needs it, really!- has inspired him, and he really wants to try it out.

“Er-ge? Did something… happen, earlier?” Meng Yao is being cautious, and quite honestly, for good reason. As the Head Boy, Xichen knows his limits, but even he has ideas sometimes.

(The Sorting Hat had debated on placing him in Slytherin, after all.)

“A-Yao,” Xichen pouts, widening his eyes pleadingly. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just- er-ge, please… ice mice are bad for you…” Meng Yao’s voice is lowly concerned, but he eyes the box of ice mice in Xichen’s hand like it is his arch nemesis, and Xichen pouts.

“...What if I ate the ice mice and started shivering, would you cuddle me then?”

Meng Yao’s eyes widen, while, beside him, Mingjue does a double take. “Excuse me, what? Xichen, are you oka-”

“I just want cuddles,” Xichen mumbles, pouting at the box of ice mice before reaching for one to pop into his mouth anyway.

Meng Yao sighs, and then there are tentative arms wrapping around him, and the smaller boy is curling close, tucking himself under Xichen’s arm.

Xichen beams, and pulls Meng Yao even closer before turning pleading eyes upon Mingjue.

Another sigh, and then Mingjue takes a seat on his other side and wraps an arm over Xichen’s shoulder as well.

Laughing, Xichen burrows closer, tugging Meng Yao along with him as he shuffles their positions. “Hooray for cuddles,” he cheers, banishing the box of now-useless ice mice to the coffee table. 

“Yes,” Mingjue drawls, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Hooray indeed.”

It is a long moment later that Meng Yao looks up at Xichen with an arched eyebrow, and asks, “So, will you explain to us just where this absurd idea of giving yourself hypothermia for cuddles came from?”

“Wangji stole an entire box of ice mice from me when I visited him in Ravenclaw tower earlier,” Xichen explains, patting Meng Yao gently on the head- and taking the chance to ruffle the younger boy’s hair, because why not? 

“He did it just so he could eat them all at one go and get himself lots of cuddles from Wei Wuxian. So I got myself another box for our picnic, because while Ravenclaw has nice armchairs in their common room, beanbags are obviously better for cuddles.”

If only because Mingjue wouldn’t fit into said armchairs, Xichen very resolutely does not add.

“What,” Mingjue starts, pulling away to stare disbelievingly at Xichen. “The fuck?”

Xichen just whines and pulls Mingjue back into the cuddle pile, and pretends to not see the way Mingjue meets Meng Yao’s gaze and whispers -not inconspicuously-, “I thought Lan Wangji was a Ravenclaw! Aren’t Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?”

Meng Yao just shrugs, and Xichen can only cling closer to Mingjue until the taller boy subsides, still grumbling lowly under his breath.

(Well, the ice mice didn’t work, but at least he was still getting cuddles!)