Archive of Our Own

By the time the bus arrives he's already over fifteen minutes late, it takes the sprint from the bus stop to the office for him to realize that, fuck, he's forgotten his goddamn keycard.

Awesome. That's just - totally fucking awesome. The universe really is constantly coming up with new ways to fuck with him.

He snoops around outside for a moment, tries opening the door but to no avail - the light on keycard scanner blinks an angry red at him, the doorknob won't turn, and his hair and cheap thrifted blazer are gathering more and more rainwater by the second. When he tries the handle for a second time, he catches a glimpse of movement through the windows as someone slides behind the reception desk, long fingers deftly straightening his tie. They make eye contact for a long moment, and the stranger stares back blankly as Wei Wuxian gestures at the doorknob, himself, the desk. The angry music pumping into his ears is fueling a spiteful rage and he yanks out his earbuds, only then remembering that, oh, he has a phone!

As he navigates to his new co-worker's contact info in the onboarding email he realizes that the guy behind the desk is, in fact, the other receptionist he'll be working with - Lan Wangji. Not actually a stranger, he's a former classmate and the most boring person Wuxian has ever met.

He knows Lan Wangji from the quiet scrape of a lecture-hall chair unfolding, the tapping of fingers-on-keyboard, and the strictness with with he paced down the hall after class, following a perfect schedule that annoyed stupid freshman Wei Wuxian so fucking much. Wuxian knows him in his innate ability to stay awake during 9AM social policy lectures while Wei Wuxian nodded off, picking at the frayed ends of his hair and calculating if he could afford coffee that day. Lan Wangji sits perfectly straight at the reception desk desk, the same goddamn posture that was unbent under the weight of a name-brand backpack, the posture with which he stood in line at the coffee house and ordered inordinately expensive drinks while Wei Wuxian brought a chipped mug from home to steal black coffee from the self-serve. The baristas always saw, and Lan Wagji always judged him with his downcast gaze when Wei Wuxian slunk off with forced laughter, black coffee burning down his throat.

Wei Wuxian watches intently as Lan Wagnji unlocks his phone and expressionlessly types out a response.

    Wei Wuxian, guests and staff are not permitted in the building before office hours without a key.

What a dick.

He's not about to stand around outside waiting for the office to open, even though realistically he has about - oh, twenty minutes left - so he stalks a circle around the building, digging around through memories of teenage breaking-and-entering adventures for a plan. There were a lot of adventures like that, him and his brother and their idiot friends. Their parents had eyes all over the goddamn house, and the town at that, so they found other, weirder drinking haunts. That meant lots of late nights spent climbing rusty fire escapes to lay flat on the roof, passing a joint or a bottle back-and-forth between the three of them, feet dangling over the ledge, shoelaces swaying in the summer breeze. Favorite places included: the old summer camp, they'd sneak into the drained-out swimming pool and sprawl out in the deep end, where the lights from the freeway couldn't catch them, there was the roof of the closed-down gas station, the old horse stables, and a pick-and-pull.

That is to say, Wei Wuxian has a lot of experience breaking into buildings. He knows the tricks, has them at his disposal, and uses them.

The fire escape is slick with rainwater and shakes as he climbs it, rattling against the side of the building, and shitty music is still leaking through his speakers like some sort of half-assed spy movie soundtrack. From the third-story fire escape landing he ducks under the bars, scooting out to the edge and lining himself up with the ledge of the office balcony a floor below. It's not a perfect match, and he might end up on the concrete below, but oh well. He pushes off - and lands hard on the balcony, tumbling, knees of his dress pants ripping up and palms stinging. When he stands he shakes his ankles, trying to brush off the sharp impact-pain that laces up his legs. Nothing broken, nothing bleeding, though, so it's all good. The adrenaline rush from the fall makes him giddy enough to laugh, bent over in the rain, hands on his knees and hair slicked wet against his face. He blows a strand out from in front of his eyes and stifles down his laughter to a twitching grin.

Now for the next challenge - the office door. It's fifteen minutes to opening, Lan Wangji is probably wondering where he went, and Wuxian is having the time of his life. The door is the easy part, it's a trick he learned his first year on campus - he kicks the wheelchair push-button. The door doesn't open like it should, but he can hear the lock click open and he has a short window where he can - yep, there it is - open the door without any lock-picking or alarms.

Wuxian slips into the office, softly shutting the door behind him. He softly whoops and punches the air, jumping excitedly until he realizes that he's on the second floor and Lan Wangji is down below, probably wondering what the noise is. The office is all white-and-blue, walls bare of any photographs or decorations. Everything is precise and perfect - a wire cup of pens holds exactly one blue, one red, and one black, two highlighters, and a single sharpie. Everything is in place, down to the yellow legal pad scrawled with neat writing, the single houseplant, and the row of coffee mugs. In short, Wei Wuxian hates it. He ducks out of the room and finds himself in a maze of cubicles. There's no one else in the office, just him and the music playing thinly through his forgotten earbuds. He's dripping water onto the blue carpet, leaving little puddles, small imperfections in the otherwise spotless office. He toes a stain deeper into the carpet and laughs to himself.

To his left is a flight of staircases headed down to the first floor where the lobby is - where he's supposed to be! The stairwell is wide, lined with photos of the university campus - smiling students, study groups in the library, open pavilions, and tree-lined trails.

There's a soft sound of footsteps downstairs. Wei Wuxian creeps towards the noise and finds himself at the reception desk again. The same student is sitting there, staring stonily ahead. When Wei Wuxian turns the corner, his eyes flare wide for a second before he scrambles for the phone, punching in a number and holding the receiver to his face.

"I'm here!" Wei Wuxian calls, sauntering to the desk to throw his backpack on a gray filing cabinet, "Had to sneak in, but - "

Lan Wangji's gaze flickers up for a half-second before he focuses again on the desk, eyes trained downwards, "This is Lan Wangji at the Executive Office - yes - a possible break-in - Mn. Yes. - Thank you." The phone settles down with a quiet click and Lan Wagji looks up, methodically saying, "Campus security is on the way."

"What the fuck?

"Campus security is on the way."

"What the fuck!" he says again, louder and with more feeling, "I work here!"

"Unauthorized entry."

"I work here!" he repeats, rummaging through his backpack for his folder and thrusting the onboarding paperwork at Lan Wangji. The other student looks faintly alarmed as the papers crinkle against his chest, but all he does is swivel around in the office chair and power on the computer. Wei Wuxian sighs, letting the papers fall to the ground and gather puddles of rainwater. He flicks a strand of wet hair over his shoulder and plops down on the other chair, fiddles with his tie, and props his feet up on the desk.

Security arrives a moment later in the form of a very pretty uniformed girl, her hair tied back in a tight bun and a stern look on her otherwise gentle face.

"Lan Wangji!" she says loudly as she enters the building, keyring on her belt-loop clinking, "where's the problem?"

Wangji expressionlessly points to Wei Wuxian, who casually crosses his arms and twists in the swivel chair, smiling, "Who, me?"

"Him?"

"Mn. Yes."

The next hour finds Wei Wuxian sitting cross-legged slumped over on the curb, gutter water seeping into the seat of his pants, hands cuffed behind his back. Mianmian stands above him, on the phone with her supervisor, explaining the situation as he shivers, maintaining an angry, focused glare through the tall windows as Lan Wangji tries to avoid eye contact, keeping his gaze focused on his cellphone as he taps out a message. It's hard to keep glaring when he wants to grin, because honestly this is so much more fun than he thought it would be, but it doesn't really seem like giggling on the roadside is the right reaction. There's more commotion inside and Wei Wuxian kicks up water, splashing it at Mianmian who has the decency to only look faintly annoyed. They had classes together, before Wei Wuxian took two years off from school, and he remembers that she was studious and friendly. Now she's hauling him up from the ground, one hand pressing his hands against the small of his back, and turning him towards the security van.

"School policy says I have to take you in," she says, and Wei Wuxian gets a glimpse of Lan Wangji glancing up, tips of his ears red, watching as Wuxian is bodily shoved into the back of the car. His focus is quickly taken away from Wuxian again as another executive office staff member converses loudly with the building's security officer. Mianmian catches her boss's eye and straightens her jacket, frowning at a complicated hand signal from him, then promptly unlocks the handcuffs and pulls Wei Wuxian out of the car.

He straightens his posture and rubs at his wrists, frowning, "Not gonna lie, I was starting to enjoy that."

She huffs out an annoyed sigh, rolling her eyes, and points at the two men talking inside, "You're good to go."

Not one to argue with the offer of freedom, he shrugs, rolling his shoulders and sauntering back inside, his lips already pulling into a cocky smile as he says, "Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

Lan Wangji just hums, but the other man, tall with a stern jaw and clad in a pale blue suit, is quick to rush over with a small smile on his face and shower Wei Wuxian with kind apologies. He keeps that knowing smile plastered across his mouth for so long that Wei Wuxian starts to think that it is fake, the frozen work-smile that he was practicing in the mirror last night, but it reaches the man's eyes - he has soft, friendly eyes, deep brown, and he has the same nose as Lan Wangji. Brothers, perhaps?

He extends a hand when his apologies are over, "Lan Xichen," he introduces himself as, his palm is warm and firm, and "this is Nie Mingjue," he gestures at the security officer, now with Mianmian standing behind him. Mingjue nods curtly, says nothing, and looks vaguely frustrated. "My apologies, again, for the misunderstanding," Lan Xichen says calmly, so calm, and Lan Wangji half-glares blankly from the other side of the desk.

It is going to be a very, very interesting job.

Nie Mingue - Nie! that's right, Nie Husaing's brother - turns to leave and Lan Xichen pulls him into a quick embrace, and the stern look on the security guard melts away as he says, "See you at home," and gets a press of lips against his cheek in response. Interesting. Wuxian will have to ask Nie Husaing about that. Lan Wangji's blank look doesn't falter as the security officers leave and Wei Wuxian slides back into his seat, the puddle he left on the desk already cleaned up. His scattered onboarding papers are now organized in a perfect stack.

"Can't get rid of me, motherfucker," he says idly, squeezing rainwater from his hair and watching it sink into the fancy carpeted floor. Lan Wangji's gaze flickers up for a moment before settling on the floor, eyes following the spread of the puddle.

The desktop rings an incoming-email sound and startles the both of him, Lan Wangji showing his surprise in a quick blink while Wei Wuxian yelps loudly, wheeling to Lan Wangji's station - because he still doesn't have computer access as he's been working here for oh, an hour and thirty minutes now - and peers over his shoulder, knocking their elbows together and shrugging out of his water-heavy blazer, flinging it onto the desk and loosening his tie. It's one of the only expensive things he owns, an artifact from his eighteenth birthday, before everything went to shit, expensive purple-and-red silk from his father. He tried to destroy it once, when the notices started pouring in and his family's love got sour, sitting cross-legged on his bed (a new one, not his childhood bed, not his childhood room) in an unadorned apartment, walls bare save for bookshelves stolen from dumpsters after the rich students moved home for the summer. He had clutched a pair of garden shears in one hand and a bottle in the other and stared at the tie, a red-and-purple stain on his bedsheets, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The stupid silk pleating glared at him mockingly, boasting that it costed almost half his rent, so he balled it up and it found its place at the bottom of his sock drawer, contemptuously jammed next to a ziplock baggie of gummies from the dispensary.

Now the tie is soaking wet and crumpled, and Lan Wangji is giving him annoyed looks at his reflection on the monitor as he reads the email - a to-do list from Lan Zichen, onboarding and office tours and ordering printer ink and - "Icebreakers! Let's do that first," Wei Wuxian says with a grin, tapping the side of his nose as he laughs at Lan Wangji's blank look.

"I'll go," Wuxian says, not bothering to roll back to his station even as Lan Wangji swivels in his chair, hands carefully folded in his lap and tie perfectly straight, "Two truths and a lie. I once ate moldy bagels three times, I'm a felon, I used to be a band kid. Back in high-school."

Lan Wangji thinks for a moment, actually thinks about the statements like they're something important.

"Lie - bagels," he says evenly, gaze scouring Wei Wuxian's face like a polygraph test.

"Nope!"

Lan Wangji's brows furrow almost imperceptibly and Wei Wuxian can see him retreat back into his head like he's running calculations and putting together a case. Fucking law students, honestly. "Band, lie."

"You're calling me a felon!" Wei Wuxian grins wickedly, "Whata'you think I did?"

"Property crime. Driving under the influence. Vandalism. Use of illegal drugs."

"I'll have you know that I have never been charged with a felony. Band is the truth, Lan Wangji."

"What instrument," he asks like it's a statement, not a question.

"Flute. Now you!"

He hesitates before he speaks, watching the slow grin on Wei Wuxian's face, "I - like rabbits. Never drank alcohol. Don't go sleep before two-AM." Lan Wangji knows his reputation, just as well as Wei Wuxian knows his own, and he knows that he is making the game easy. He watches as Wei Wuxian glances at his phone face-down on the desk, and the rabbit insignia embossed into the plastic, sees the rain-damp man's gaze (full of ridiculous expression, burningly open) trail to to his blue water bottle with the rabbit stickers, then back to Lan Wangji, who fights to keep his own eyes on the file cabinet behind them.

"Well, the rabbit is clearly a truth," Wei Wuxian says, pulls his legs up to sit squashed cross-legged on the office chair. His muddy dress shoes scrape against Lan Wangji's calf and leave a brand of dirt and water. He doesn't apologize.

"Yes," Lan Wangji forces himself to say, not retreating into the careful quiet he prefers. Wei Wuxian is talking so loud, attention flickering everywhere so abrupt it's dizzying, now he is tapping out a message on his phone, grinning as it lights up.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to reprimand him, carefully thinking of what words he will say, when Wei Wuxian says, "Bedtime is the lie! You sleep early!"

"Mn. Correct."

"I win!" Wei Wuxian croons like he's just gotten a prize.

It's frustratingly endearing, so Lan Wangji turns back to the computer and busies himself responding to emails and scheduling conference rooms. Wei Wuxian's onboarding packet sits to his left, flecked with rainwater, and Lan Wangji has to steel himself before saying, "Office tour."

"Humm?"

"First item on the list. Tour. Come." he thinks he might be sounding curt, more curt than he normally is, but the stain of dirt is burning a hole through his wool slacks.

He stands and Wei Wuxian follows, trailing behind him as they begin their tour. This is the IT department, this the Assistant Dean's office, this is development this is finance this is us, the business department, look out the window - yes - that is the security building. This is the marketing office, this is the break room, here are the bathrooms. Wei Wuxian's footsteps are discordant and unorganized, Lan Wangji's are even and methodical and controlled, he knows his way around.