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Lan Xichen takes a great deal of comfort in rituals and routine.

They bring order to a life that can be occasionally chaotic, and focusing on what can be controlled has brought peace to him over the years since their parents died. He thinks it’s the same for Wangji, who is even more tightly ordered in the course of his daily routines and habits to the point Lan Xichen could set his watch by certain Wangji landmarks—when he leaves the house for the day, which days he returns home late due to club or sport activities, and the regular guqin practices.

Xichen is so caught up in his own morning routine of making tea that he doesn’t notice for several minutes that Wangji’s tea is cooling on the counter as he begins to make breakfast. He glances at the stove clock and his own routine comes to a screeching halt.

It’s a quarter past five, and Wangji isn’t in the kitchen with him, curling long fingers around his tea cup before he sips with a reflective look about him as he comes fully awake.

Xichen frowns. He checks his phone first, but finds no notifications. The only thing that occurs to him is that perhaps Wangji left early for a morning swim practice? However, it’s Saturday.

He hesitates before padding down the hallway on bare feet. Xichen truly hates to disturb Wangji’s privacy, because his younger brother is a deeply reserved young man. He’s withdrawn into himself a little more than is typical for him over the past three months and Xichen has been riding the line of respecting that distance, and intervening out of concern.

Today’s tardiness definitely has him concerned.

He lives on the opposite wing of the house from Wangji in the master bedroom beyond the living space and dining area. Wangji lives in the other wing that has his room, a bedroom that Xichen converted into an office for the days he can work from home, and a spare room that is only used on the rare occasions that Uncle stays the night.

As he walks down the hall, he’s unsurprised to see Wangji’s door is fully shut. It usually is, even though Xichen has assured him on the regular that he won’t invade his living space without a very good reason. Filled with worry but also conflicted, Xichen grasps the knob of his brother’s bedroom door and remains there a moment longer, indecision churning in his gut. Really, fifteen minutes aren’t that big a deal.

Xichen bites his lip. Wangji has been a shadow of himself for three months now. Any deviation from his routine could be a warning sign. He grimaces and twists the knob, opening the door with slow care.

The dim light filtering through the window is enough to see inside, and Xichen’s eyes widen as he gets a good look at the sprawl of limbs on Wangji’s bed.

There’s a dark-haired figure lying atop Wangji, sheet drawn over both of the bodies in bed. Wangji’s arm is over that person’s waist, and their head is pillowed on Wangji’s chest, head tucked under his chin. Xichen can make out the profile almost covered in a spill of long black hair.

It’s that boy from school, Wei Wuxian.

Xichen’s breath makes a small, quiet hiss as he takes it in. He’s beyond startled to see Wei Wuxian of all people in his brother’s bed, being held secure in the circle of Wangji’s arm.

Wangji’s head raises enough so that his eyes peer over the top of Wei Wuxian’s slumbering face. He raises his free hand from where it was toying with the ends of long hair and one finger goes to his lips. Be quiet, the gesture intimates.

Xichen’s chest is burning, his head is mired in confusion, but he nods. He withdraws from Wangji’s room, closing the door with just as much care as he’d opened it. He grimaces as though the quiet click of the latch will wake him, then remembers that Wangji told him once that Wei Ying, as he calls him, can sleep through anything.

For a moment Xichen can only stand there, hands curled into fists. His brother held Wei Wuxian in his arms like a lover. But as far as Xichen knew, Wangji was…well, he’d had no involvements with anyone.

He retreats up the hallway, his brain full of white noise. He moves around the kitchen with mechanical gestures, putting on the radio at a low volume, eyeing Wangji’s cooling tea. He pauses at the stove for longer than he really ought to before he decides to put the pot on to make congee, but measures out double the usual amount of rice to wash. Leftovers won’t hurt, and he’s making enough for three. Two of them being hungry teenage boys.

Once he’s begun preparations and the stock is coming up to temp, Xichen leans against the sink and crosses his arms, facing this latest development head-on.

It’s a Saturday at least, so it’s not like Wangji has to be up for school or any extra-curriculars. He wracks his brain on whether Wei Wuxian might be missing something and decides no, if he was signed up for something on early Saturdays, Wangji would have been attending that too.

Since the start of the junior school year it has been impossible to miss how Wangji has gravitated into Wei Wuxian’s orbit.

At first, it was barely worth note. Wangji had been irritated with a new classmate. When that irritation had persisted, Xichen had grown concerned, though not to the point of wondering whether he needed to step in or have a word with teachers, or the boy’s parents. Wangji was never teased growing up, and had remained aloof from his classmates clear through high school, so Wei Wuxian landing in his junior class had been an unwelcome disruption.

Or so Xichen had thought, at first. Wangji’s frustration had gentled and transformed into something else. He still mentioned Wei Wuxian as often or more but the context was different. It was more along the lines of Wangji mentioning something that Wei Wuxian had brought to him, or shared with him, or a text from him that had just come in—and since when did Wangji share his contact information with anyone? That had been a revelation within itself for Xichen, who knew Wangji avoided swapping numbers in case his classmates tried to ply favors off him outside of any joint projects they had worked on. He had a carefully curated Twitter that was private and as far as Xichen was aware, only shared with him, his lone mutual.

Until the day there was another mutual, with a cheeky @wayWIFI handle that had made Xichen chuckle when he got the joke.

Xichen realized that he was watching the slow progress of his brother warming up to another person. He’d been extremely proud of him; before junior year he’d been genuinely worried Wangji would try to tackle college as an island unto himself. It was one thing to have a small amount of very carefully selected friends, which Xichen knew was normal for introverts as he was one, himself. Wangji’s level of self-isolation had become concerning and yet Xichen never knew how to breach it.

As it turned out, someone was cracking his defenses quite handily, and Wangji no longer begrudged leaving the house and his solo pursuits in order to spend time with someone. Even better that it wasn’t his own brother.

All was well and Xichen was beginning to wonder if friendship would turn into something more, given the way Wangji’s ears had started to turn red whenever he mentioned Wei Wuxian or received an unexpected text from him. Xichen had even, bracing himself for multiple outcomes, steeled himself for the necessity of giving the Sex Talk.

Three months ago, though, shortly before the start of senior year Wangji stopped talking about Wei Wuxian like a steel wall had gone up overnight. He no longer made even a passing reference to the young man who had become entangled in his life at the start of junior year.

Xichen watched, and waited. He hoped Wangji would come to him. He’d never seen Wangji so listless, though perhaps…he thought the closest basis for comparison had been Wangji’s withdrawal when their mother had died. Wangji began to focus on his guqin and composition studies more fiercely than ever before.

He looks up as the soft bubbling noise catches his attention and has to tend to the congee. In his distraction, he’s nearly let it boil over. Rescuing breakfast from ruin occupies his full attention for a bit, then he bustles about taking care of fixings to top the congee. He and Wangji have been vegetarians since childhood, but they indulge in the occasional egg from a locally sourced cage and cruelty free farmer.

Today seems like a good day to have such a treat.

Xichen glances at the clock and goes to the fridge to pull out three of the tea eggs that have been marinating since the night before last. It’s one of their favorite toppings, and he has a good black tea he saves exclusively for the recipe.

It’s shortly after the start of November and dawn is still a short way off. Xichen slices tea eggs into three shallow dishes, breathes in the comforting scent of the congee, and returns to contemplating the sudden turn of his brother’s situation.

After those three months of no mention of Wei Wuxian leaving Wangji’s mouth, and the sudden chill in his demeanor, it’s not yet six in the morning and Xichen has found Wei Wuxian here in his home. In his brother’s room. More precisely, he walked in on Wei Wuxian sleeping on top of Wangji—who knows in what state of undress—when there’s a perfectly good unused guest room across the hall.

Xichen might be hyperventilating, a little bit.

He focuses on pulling together additional toppings, making everything ready to serve at any moment. Xichen makes himself another cup of green tea and gazes thoughtfully into the middle distance.

How did Wei Wuxian get in, Xichen asks himself. He knows there was no Wei Wuxian in the house when he went to bed last night. It’s obvious that Wangji let him in, but when?

And why?

These thoughts revolve uselessly in his head as he sips at his tea and waits.

And waits.

Xichen ends up pulling out his phone again and playing pocket weiqi with the computer opponent. He makes more tea. He has to visit the bathroom because he’s had so much tea. It’s nearing nine and he’s making yet another pot of tea on the off chance Wangji may wake at some point. After spending hours fretting, he thinks he can recall an offhand reference either Wangji or Wei Wuxian made on Twitter about what each of them considers to be a decent rising hour, and Wei Wuxian’s was shockingly late.

Well, of course Wangji isn’t going to get up so long as Wei Wuxian is sleeping peacefully atop him.

The click of the electric kettle going off is simultaneous with a figure emerging from the hallway around the corner and to the left of the kitchen and Xichen startles, managing to restrain himself from spilling a scoop of green tea leaves all over the tiled floor. He deposits it in the teapot, pours the water, and schools his expression to openness before turning.

“Wangji,” Xichen greets his little brother.

Wangji moves silently on bare feet into the kitchen area in just his pajama bottoms and a tank top, lacking the shirt that always accompanies his matched set. His long black hair is loose around his shoulders, his expression bears a softer expression than Xichen can ever recall seeing, and there’s a relaxed quality in his movements. The stiffness in which he’s held himself for the past few months is gone.

It’s an undeniable improvement, but Xichen has questions. And he will politely insist on answers.

“Xiong-zhang,” Wangji says.

He’s always been painfully formal even as a little boy. Xichen isn’t sure where he managed to learn that antiquated term for older brother—possibly a tale their Uncle or mother told him—but Wangji has used it ever since. Sometimes a man likes to be called gege, Xichen thinks wistfully.

“Wangji,” Xichen says again, raising a rather pointed brow. He notes as he pours tea that despite his tranquil expression, Wangji’s ear-tips are turning red.

“I am sorry to surprise you with this,” Wangji says, voice low and steady. “Wei Ying needed a place to stay, and…”

Xichen’s brows try to climb up his forehead. “Wangji, he was sleeping on top of you.” He makes a point of not mentioning the spare room which has its very own bed. They’re both very much aware of that, he feels.

“…Ah,” Wangji says, and although his face isn’t remotely embarrassed, the entirety of his visible ears are now a fiery scarlet. “Yes, he was.”

“Wangji?” Xichen presses, trying for delicacy. “As far as I knew—” You weren’t even dating him, Xichen intends to say, but is interrupted.

Wei Wuxian sweeps into the kitchen rubbing heavily at one eye, a cloud of black hair floating around his head and spilling over his shoulders. He’s wearing the missing top from Wangji’s cloud-patterned pajama set. His eyes are more than half closed but he makes a beeline straight for where Wangji is standing on the far side of the kitchen counter, puts his arms around his waist and his chin on his shoulder, and announces, “Good morning,” to the room in general.

“Good morning,” Xichen says out of reflex.

“Did you tell him?” are the next words out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. His eyes are still mostly closed but Xichen thinks he can see a glimmer of appraisal in his direction.

“I am right now,” Wangji says, putting a hand over Wei Wuxian’s at his waist. “Xiong-zhang. Wei Ying and I are together.”

Xichen’s eyes widen slightly before he narrows them in scrutiny. Wangji does in fact look more relaxed and happy than he can recall seeing him. Ever. This coming on the heels of three months of misery. He transfers his gaze to Wei Wuxian, who is beaming, hugging Wangji around the waist a little more tightly.

“Congratulations,” Xichen offers automatically, wondering if he ought to tackle the abrupt turnaround given the fact that only yesterday Wangji had left the house looking glum.

Wei Wuxian still has his chin on Wangji’s shoulder. “It probably seems sudden, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell Lan Zhan about my feelings for ages because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and it turns out…he feels the same way?” He sounds sheepish.

Xichen’s eyes don’t miss the way Wangji’s hand squeezes over Wei Wuxian’s.

“I should have said something,” Wangji said. “I should not have assumed.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile is gentle and bright, and Xichen has the sense he ought to look away but can’t bring himself to. “Hey now, we agreed we’re not going to beat ourselves up about that slight communication problem.”

“More to the point,” Wangji says, his voice and gaze both sharpening. “Wei Ying’s adoptive mother reacted poorly to Wei Ying’s disclosure yesterday that he is bisexual.”

“Oh,” Xichen says with a frown.

“She kicked me out,” Wei Wuxian adds, and somehow manages to look apologetic about it.

Xichen realizes his mouth is hanging open and he closes it with a snap. He takes in a slow, controlled breath. “May I offer you both some tea?” he says in a pleasant tone that covers his sudden, sharp anger.

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian says cautiously.

Xichen serves them both and they seat themselves so close to one another on the other side of the kitchen counter that body parts are probably entwined where he can’t see them, and that’s fine. Wangji sips his tea right away but Wei Wuxian just looks down at his own, long delicately-shaped fingers curled around the cup.

Meanwhile, Xichen is trying to keep a lid on his anger and incredulity. Wei Wuxian is only seventeen, ten months younger than his own brother. He’s in his last year of high school. Does the woman want to ruin his life? “How could she kick you out?” Xichen asks, and the tension threads through his voice. “Aren’t they your adopted family?”

Wei Wuxian looks up at his tea and appraises him, mouth drawn in a flat line. “Actually, no,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “I was never adopted; Uncle Fengmian took me in. Without asking her, as she made clear later.”

Xichen shakes his head. “I’m sorry to press for details, I simply…I’m having trouble understanding how they could take care of you for so long then…” He trails off, still appalled.

Wei Wuxian grimaces like he’s swallowed a bitter pill. “Well, Aunt—uh, I mean, Yu Ziyuan has been looking for an excuse,” he says in a light-hearted tone that doesn’t fool Xichen for a second. “It was something along the lines of, I’m a horrible example for Jiang Cheng, her only son, and I might abuse him. So, she kicked me out after I disclosed that I was bisexual, but before I said I figured it out because I’m in love with Lan Wangji.” His mouth twists.

Wangji’s hand migrates across the countertop to seek Wei Wuxian’s. Their fingers lace together without the two of them even looking at one another.

Xichen is horrified. He also grasps the implications right away. If Wei Wuxian had led with the fact he was involved with a Lan, Yu Ziyuan might not have ejected him from her home.

“I’m sorry to be a burden, I’ll see what I can do about getting someplace—” Wei Wuxian begins, looking down at his untouched tea.

“Absolutely not!” Xichen states in his older-brother register.

Both young men freeze and look at him, Wei Wuxian wary, Wangji somehow defiant.

“You’re staying here,” Xichen says in the tone that will brook no argument. “Aside from any feelings between you and Wangji, I cannot ignore the fact that you need a place to stay, and we have one.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him and sags on his stool toward Wangji. It puts them shoulder to shoulder.

Wangji turns his head. “I told you he would,” he murmurs, low and reassuring.

Xichen places his hands flat on the countertop and regards them until Wei Wuxian will meet his eyes. It takes a little longer than he expects, and Wei Wuxian bites his lip, looking shyer than he’s ever seen the outspoken boy.

“Then it’s settled,” Xichen tells him, maintaining eye contact.

Still biting his lip, Wei Wuxian ducks his head in a nod. “As…as long as it’s not any trouble.”

“It is not,” Xichen says firmly, and inspiration strikes. Still holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze, he tells him, “It will trouble me greatly if you don’t stay.”

Wei Wuxian blinks and straightens up a bit on his stool. He nods again, less timidly this time.

“Now,” Xichen says. “Let’s enjoy a meal together and discuss details.”

And ground rules, he thinks, but Wangji is a good boy. He doesn’t think there will be issues.

They finish their tea, Xichen replenishes it for all of them, and they take their bowls of congee complete with toppings and tea eggs over to the oval table at the breakfast nook, a bay window with a good view of the back yard. Wangji manages to unearth a jar of chili crisp buried in the spice cupboard for Wei Wuxian to put in his congee. Xichen notes with bemusement the little ways in which they interact, constantly oriented to one another even when they’re not touching.

He is one hundred percent sure his brother is a virgin, because he’s never gotten close enough to another human to manage that level of interaction, and Xichen has a strong feeling it’s not going to stay that way for long. He makes a mental note to take Wangji aside at some point to be sure he’s got the necessaries.

“Were you able to take anything with you?” Xichen asks in between bites. Wangji flicks a curious look his way—he’s breaking the Lan rule of no talking during meals—but continues to eat without comment. The oval kitchen table is glass, and Xichen can see their legs hooked together at the ankle. He tries and fails to suppress a quick smile.

“Nope,” Wei Wuxian says. He shoves in a mouthful of dismayingly red congee.

Xichen has no idea how he’s able to eat it without choking, let alone tears streaming down his face. His parentage must be Sichuan.

“I walked out with my phone, my wallet, and the clothes on my back,” Wei Wuxian continues after swallowing. He holds a hand over his mouth anyhow, eyes darting toward Wangji. “Lan Zhan was nice enough to let me borrow his pajama top.”

Xichen’s smile is somewhat more restrained. “Then, we’ll have to go get your things,” he says. “That’s the first order of business.”

Wei Wuxian looks down at his congee and his spoon dips. Wangji’s hand crosses the distance between them to cup his elbow.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji says, and there’s nuances in that Xichen doesn’t even recognize.

Wei Wuxian seems to be gritting his teeth. “I don’t want to inconvenience you,” he says, his voice a harsh rasp as he lowers his head.

Xichen meets Wangji’s steady, somber brown eyes and understands, a little. “Wei Wuxian,” he says, gentle as a man seeking to tame a bird to hand. “They are your things, and we will go reclaim them for you. And I will derive great satisfaction in doing so, I assure you.” A steely note enters his voice.

Wei Wuxian’s head lifts. “Wh—really?”

Why, Xichen hears. “Wei Wuxian. The family who took you in kicked you out last night without even letting you pack a bag. They would treat a stranger with more courtesy. We will escort you there personally so that I can ensure you get everything you need. And, yes, I will take personal gratification in it, as I can make sure a wrong is corrected.”

Wei Wuxian rubs at the skin beneath his eye with the back of his wrist and Xichen almost exclaims, worried he’s going to rub chili into his mucous membranes. All Wei Wuxian does is wrinkle his nose and look a little confused, but he breaks into a tentative smile.

“I…you’re a really great guy, Xichen-xiong,” he says. His smile widens a bit more; the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

Xichen shakes his head. “It wasn’t right, what she did. I hope you know that.”

Wei Wuxian gives a half shrug and leans toward Wangji, who has his entire hand wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s upper arm now, holding it in a loose but possessive gesture. “Well, there’s knowing, and there’s being able to do something about it. Which I can’t.”

“And I can,” Xichen says firmly. “What point is having a reputation, if one can’t use it for the betterment of others?”

Wei Wuxian is smiling widely again now. He picks up his spoon and digs into his congee with renewed vigor. “This tea egg is really great,” he says happily. “I haven’t had something this good since Jiejie—Yanli—was home.”

Xichen gives a modest nod in response to the compliment. “Once that’s settled, when we return with your things, the spare room is all yours.” He does not miss the quick glance that darts between his brother and Wei Wuxian.

He continues with a wry smile, “I’m realistic enough to recognize that the two of you will probably only make use of one bed, so please be discreet and considerate.”

Wei Wuxian’s entire face turns brick red and Wangji sits ramrod straight, mouth dropping open.

“X-Xiong-zhang!” he stammers.

“I…we..” Wei Wuxian starts, stops, and looks flummoxed. “We haven’t…”

Xichen eyes them tolerantly. If they haven’t yet, they will soon. “Just be careful and safe, that’s all I ask.”

Wei Wuxian groans and buries his face against Wangji’s shoulder. “If the floor could open up beneath me now, that would be great.”

Wangji’s hand comes up to pet his hair and he meets Xichen’s gaze, his ears still red but something like amusement in his face. Neither of them have actually denied anything.

“Let’s finish up breakfast,” Xichen suggests, changing the subject. “The sooner we go to procure your things, the better.”

Wei Wuxian straightens up and nods, melancholy returning to his face. “Yeah, I…yeah. She might haul everything to the dump otherwise.”

Lan Xichen’s position in the Lan Group is vice president—his uncle is still president though he makes noises every year about stepping down—but he holds a degree in law and a license to practice from the state bar association, though he rarely takes anything to trial. He does have a court suit, though, and he dons that and his most expensive watch and Lan enameled lapel pins and waits with patience while Wangji ushers a squirrelly Wei Wuxian into the car.

It’s a beautiful day for a November; the skies are unusually fair and the weather is temperate. They should be doing anything but this, Xichen thinks as he turns when Wei Wuxian directs him to. He glances only occasionally in the rearview to where Wangji and Wei Wuxian are twined in the backseat of the Mercedes, heedless of the seatbelts around them. Wei Wuxian has a white-knuckle grip on Wangji’s hand.

Xichen wishes he could spare him this part, but he can’t trust that Wei Wuxian’s things will remain untouched long enough for a court order or something just as formal and absolute to reach Yu Ziyuan. It’s better if they go in person, and he was truthful when he told Wei Wuxian he will find satisfaction in taking the woman to task.

The back of his mind is still pondering what must have happened yesterday between the start of the school day and finding Wangji in bed this morning with the boy he’s been pining for. In fact, Xichen doesn’t particularly remember Wangji coming home last night. They always have breakfast together, but because Xichen frequently works long hours for Lan Group he isn’t always home when he’s expecting Wangji to be, so they have a standing ‘don’t wait for dinner’ understanding.

He pulls up into the drive of a splashy but suburban home. It’s grand enough; the Jiangs have decent status in the community. And there is certainly no question of resources being an issue with the matter of Wei Wuxian’s guardianship.

“You might want to stay in the car,” Xichen murmurs, cracking the door open.

“No, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian’s subdued voice reaches him from the back. “Might need to act quickly to grab all my stuff. She won’t be in a good mood.”

“Is she ever?” Wangji mutters, and Wei Wuxian’s chuckle is weak in response.

Xichen approaches the front walk. The home is neatly landscaped and the front lawn makes him dwell for a dire moment on the negative environmental impact of lawns. His own front yard is a rock garden and behind the house is a jigsaw puzzle of garden beds for herbs and vegetables of all kinds.

He presses the bell and waits. The doorbell chimes are a brief passage of classical music—Tchaikovsky he thinks—and the sharp click of heels on tile are a prelude to the door swinging open in front of him.

“Yes, hello?” Yu Ziyuan says with a frown, mauve lipstick compressing into a slash on her conventionally attractive face. Her eyes go straight past Xichen to Wei Wuxian on the sidewalk behind Xichen. Her expression hardens.

Xichen flicks a glance over his shoulder. Wangji has both arms around Wei Wuxian who stands tall with fists clenched. Wangji never initiates physical contact in public, which allows Xichen to intuit the level of distress that Wei Wuxian is in for him to overcome his touch reticence.

He squares his jaw and faces Yu Ziyuan. “We’re here to collect Wei Wuxian’s things,” Lan Xichen tells her, dark eyes level. “If it is, in fact, true that he is no longer welcome here.” In his home, he almost says pointedly, but he is here to serve as the facilitator to retrieve Wei Wuxian’s belongings, not to provoke confrontation.

Yu Ziyuan produces a disgusted sniff. “Of course he’s not welcome here!” she blusters with no hesitation. “I don’t want him contaminating my son with his perversions.”

“Ah,” Xichen says blankly. He’d been prepared to give a sliver of benefit of the doubt because it’s so utterly beyond his understanding that someone could put a young man out on the street for sharing who he was with those closest to him.

There had never been any one moment where Wangji had said it to him, but Xichen has known in his heart that his brother is gay. He supposes he’s been waiting for Wangji to reveal it, and Wei Wuxian has done that, shown that courage, only to be turned out for it.

“Well,” Xichen sweeps onward. “The Lan family takes no issue with his preferences, so he’ll be making his home with us from now on.”

“The Lan—” Yu Ziyuan begins, and cuts herself off, eyes widening.

Xichen notes with grim satisfaction that she knows the name, though she didn’t recognize him on sight. It’s not a surprise; he tends to be reclusive with the press. Given the carefully tended upper middle-class home, he has a feeling Yu Ziyuan is a bit of a social climber and now realizes the situation she may have put herself in if Lan Xichen is interceding for her ejected ward.

He puts on his best lawyer face. “May we collect Wei Wuxian’s things?” he asks with utmost politeness. He is reluctant to hint the prospect of a lawsuit, but he will if pressed, and he already knows it’s not the kind of situation that would get tossed out at first blush by a judge.

It’s not as though Xichen can’t afford to replace anything Wei Wuxian had to leave behind but he’s sure there are personal items that are irreplaceable.

For that reason alone, Xichen is fully ready to tie up Yu Ziyuan in court fees simply as a matter of inconveniencing her.

Yu Ziyuan sizes him up from his haircut to his shoes and gives a grudging “Yes.” She stalks away from the open doorway, leaving it swung wide behind her.

She’s ungracious in admission of defeat, Xichen thinks, but looks over his shoulder. Wei Wuxian is already walking toward the door with long, fast strides, Wangji’s hand in his.

“Follow me,” Wei Wuxian says sotto voce like he fears Yu Ziyuan will materialize any second with a cleaver and a wild look in her eyes.

Xichen nods. They pass through an open, tiled foyer with a spiral staircase and a hanging chandelier, the overall impression a bourgeoisie entrance that wants to be much grander than it is. To the left, a spare, spotlessly white and lavender sitting room area is visible. To the right of the staircase is a long, wood-floored hallway with the impression of a warm golden and brown kitchen at the far end.

They go up the stairs and take the right fork at the top. There’s a floor to wall window that opens up over a view of the front of the house. Whoever has decorated the house has done a great deal with limited space. Xichen follows Wei Wuxian and his brother up a taupe-carpeted hallway.

There’s a young man in a purple t-shirt and black jeans pacing near the end of the hallway, fists clenched, the set of his shoulders and sharp jaw tight.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, sounding relieved.

The four of them end up crowding into a small bedroom with red-painted walls papered over with band and xianxia drama posters. There’s a twin bed crammed in the corner that can’t possibly be long enough for a boy of Wei Wuxian’s height and a laptop on a computer desk in the other corner. It’s full of a cheerful sort of clutter and Xichen can’t help but think it’s a study in contrasts in comparison to Wangji’s neat, sparse room.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian says to Jiang Cheng, whose dark eyes could snap fire. “I didn’t think she would actually—”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng snaps, interrupting him.

Wangji’s shoulders go tense as a bowstring and Xichen lifts a placating hand, choosing words carefully for how best to intervene.

“Don’t you dare apologize for my mother crossing over the line,” Jiang Cheng continues, and Xichen relaxes, though Wangji is still holding himself at the ready. “She’s been looking for any excuse, you know she has. I don’t think she even cares you’re bisexual, this is just something she can point to as a reason. With Dad away on a business trip and Jiejie still at school, she thinks she can get away with this.”

“Well, she has,” Wei Wuxian says in a bitter tone, and Xichen watches with fascination as Wangji actually puts his arm around him.

His brother has eschewed people touching him since he was five. He does not voluntarily reach out to others.

“I’m sorry, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says. “I don’t feel safe staying here anymore if that’s how she’s going to be about it.”

Jiang Cheng nods, his jaw tight. “I understand,” he says. “I can give you money, for a hotel or apartment or something.” He pulls a red packet out of his back pocket, extending it toward Wei Wuxian who shakes his head.

“It’s fine. Jiang Cheng, I don’t need your birthday money,” Wei Wuxian insists, shrinking back. “Lan Zhan is going to take care of me.”

“Wei Wuxian will stay with us,” Xichen puts in, as the adult in the room. Although Wangji is close, less than three months to go, he’s not eighteen yet.

Jiang Cheng transfers the weight of his attention to Xichen and his dark eyes are like an angry oncoming storm. “Yeah, but for how long?”

“Our home is his home now,” Xichen says, and he’s already made up his mind on that score.

Xichen has compressed a lot of thinking into a short amount of morning. It might look like he’s jumping into the deep end as far as committing to taking Wei Wuxian into his home is concerned, but the guiding factor is Wangji. His devotion is not easily given but once bestowed, it’s irreversible. Wei Wuxian will be in their lives from now on. And given the increasingly central role that Wei Wuxian has played in Wangji’s life over the last year, Xichen has a feeling it’s probable that although the two have just declared their feelings, a deeper commitment may be in the works.

“I…all right then.” Jiang Cheng lowers the red packet at last but his mouth is still flat. “If you’re sure.”

“I couldn’t be surer,” Wangji says.

For some reason this makes Jiang Cheng whip his head up and glare at him.

Wei Wuxian tugs Wangji away, turning to assess his room. “Do we have any leftover boxes from Jiejie’s move to school? I don’t think I can get everything, but I can get all the most important stuff.”

“Don’t worry about anything you can’t get today,” Jiang Cheng says gruffly. “I won’t let her throw it out. I can cart stuff over…uh, I guess to the Lans’ house…bit by bit until you have everything.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “That’ll do.”

He hauls out a large and a small roller case from the closet, Jiang Cheng leaves the room and returns with three banker-type boxes, and they busy themselves packing Wei Wuxian’s things. Xichen takes care of the obvious: stowing the laptop into its case, tucking cords and flash drives and all the computer-related paraphernalia he can find into the case and its pockets. Wei Wuxian digs out armfuls of clothes and stuffs them into the big case. Wangji loads up one of the banker’s boxes with books, making Wei Wuxian coo fondly at him.

“You fuddy-duddy, you would go for the books first,” Wei Wuxian says, his eyes soft as he regards Wangji.

Wangji looks back at him, just as soft. “You do need your textbooks for school,” he points out.

Jiang Cheng makes a disgusted noise in his throat and Xichen realizes that this young man has likely had to watch his brother, or surrogate brother rather, dance around his affections for Xichen’s brother for the past year and three months. He hides a smile as he looks for more small items to stow into the laptop case.

With four of them working together it makes the packing quick and efficient and they carry everything down to Xichen’s Mercedes. It all fits in the trunk and front seat and Xichen is feeling bad they couldn’t take more, but Wei Wuxian said three times they got everything they really need, and Jiang Cheng repeats yet again that he’ll bring over the rest as he can.

Xichen watches the two of them stand facing one another beside the car for a long moment before Jiang Cheng snatches him up in a tight hug, holds him for a while, then shoves him at the Mercedes. He lifts a hand to catch Jiang Cheng’s attention.

“You’re welcome to come any time,” Xichen offers. He’s pleased that this part of Wei Wuxian’s family, at least, doesn’t share the same prejudice as the woman who kicked him out.

Jiang Cheng just nods and looks desolate anyhow.

He’ll remind Wei Wuxian later to text him the address, Xichen thinks.

Xichen is torn between taking them right home and taking them out for some kind of meal. He can’t remember what they have on hand and whether it’s enough for three. “How does noodles sound for lunch?” he proposes.

“Great!” Wei Wuxian says enthusiastically.

“Acceptable,” Wangji adds.

Xichen meets his brother’s eyes in the rearview, amused. Even on such an occasion, Wangji has to be so formal and restrained.

“Then let’s go to lunch,” he says, satisfied with his solution. He isn’t sure whether Wei Wuxian is also vegetarian or willing to go vegetarian, but it’s something he can uncover over the course of lunch together and they can stop by the grocery store on the way home.

He’s going to need to stock up if he’s going to be feeding two teenage boys instead of just one. And Wangji’s appetite has been comparable to a bird for the past three months, a trend that has likely reached its end.

They end up at a restaurant on the route home that has a good variety, from curried noodles to cold noodles with dipping sauce to sesame noodles to spicy dan dan noodles. Wei Wuxian chooses the dan dan noodles, Xichen notes, picking noodles with black bean sauce for himself.

They settle into a table by the window and Xichen is definitely starting to feel like he’s third-wheeling it as they crowd into the booth seat across from him elbow to elbow, probably thigh to thigh. He looks out the window at the traffic passing by and tries once again to order his thoughts. It’s been a rapid-fire day.

“If you don’t mind,” Xichen begins, surveying them both. “There’s something I’d like to know.”

Wei Wuxian looks wary and tense and Wangji shifts, shoulder bumping his gently.

Xichen blinks and softens at once. “I was hoping to hear a little more about yesterday,” he says. “Only because I was starting to wonder if I’d need to talk Wangji off a ledge some time in the near future.”

“Xiong-zhang,” Wangji protests in the most pained tone that Xichen has ever heard from him.

“Wangji,” Xichen says, mirroring it back at him. “Do not underestimate how closely I’ve been paying attention, and how much you worried me.”

Wei Wuxian is nodding, his high ponytail bobbing with his movements. “Yes, I’m sorry, that’s my fault.”

“No need for apologies,” Wangji mutters, sounding sullen. “It is my fault.”

“Well, we’ll just have to share the blame,” Wei Wuxian says, patting his hand.

Wangji takes hold of it.

Wei Wuxian squares himself a little, blows wisps of black hair away from his face, and meets Xichen’s eyes. “I’ll say it, if you don’t mind, Lan Zhan.”

Wangji shrugs.

Xichen is keenly attuned enough to his brother’s micro-expressions he can read shyness rather than indifference in the flicker of his response.

“About four months ago, we were doing some summer club thing—I think we met up for tea and coffee? Before we met up for some soccer,” Wei Wuxian says, leaning into Wangji and giving him a little nudge which Wangji responds to with a nod. “And I was talking to Huaisang—our friend Nie Huaisang—when Lan Zhan went to wash his hands because poor Huaisang and Jiang Cheng had already been listening to me come to terms with my feelings about Lan Zhan for, like, the four months before that.”

Xichen blinks and processes all that. Wei Wuxian hasn’t seemed to take a single breath. “I know Nie Huaisang,” he says, encouraging. “Nie Mingjue and I have been colleagues and friends for years.”

“Oh, good!” Wei Wuxian brightens and nods. “So I was whining his ear off about not being able to just bust out with my feelings for the guy I like, and Huaisang was pushing back on me saying, why not; you bust out your feelings about pretty much everything else that crosses your mind. Which is fair!”

Xichen is starting to feel a little winded by the rapid-fire conversation and glances at Wangji, who simply appears entranced.

“And I told Huaisang no, I can’t,” Wei Wuxian continues. He bites his lip and looks sidelong at Wangji. “Because this isn’t, like, just a crush. I waited it out through what I thought was the crush phase and I really, really like this guy. So I have to figure out the right moment.”

Wangji nods, lacing his fingers with Wei Wuxian’s. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I know you didn’t!” Wei Wuxian assures him. “I just…I wish I had known you walked in on the tail end of that conversation. I…” He drops his head and groans.

Wangji cocks his head and looks up, meeting Xichen’s gaze. “I tried to make myself accommodating to the right moment,” he says.

Wei Wuxian looks sheepish and scratches his ear. “Yeah, when I think back on it, it really is pretty obvious that you were making a lot of one on one time for me.”

“The right moment didn’t come,” Wangji concludes, looking down.

Wei Wuxian puts his other hand on top of their intertwined fingers. “Lan Zhan, it’s not because you didn’t make yourself available. It’s because I’m an idiot who kept second-guessing myself and telling myself you couldn’t possibly like me that way, when Huaisang and even Jiang Cheng kept saying I wouldn’t know until I asked.”

Wangji keeps his eyes lowered, a slight grimace on his face.

Wei Wuxian looks straight at Xichen with anguish in his eyes. “I…I didn’t realize,” he says softly. “Lan Zhan thought that when I didn’t say anything to him during all the opportunities he gave me, it had to mean I was talking about someone else.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Wangji says quietly.

Wei Wuxian turns his head and leans toward him, murmuring low, “It is, though. I should have been braver. For you. Because I wasn’t, I hurt you.”

Wangji shakes his head. “I should have asked. Not assumed.”

“And so, Wangji withdrew,” Xichen puts in, because he knows that much. “I presume he became closed off for you in addition to being so at home.”

“Xiong-zhang,” Wangji says, cutting a look at him.

“You pulled away, Wangji,” Xichen says to him. He raises a brow. “Would you like to deny it?”

Wangji gets a stubborn look on his face but says nothing.

“You did pull away,” Wei Wuxian says softly, patting his hand. “But I didn’t know it was me. I mean, my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Wangji repeats, giving him a look.

Wei Wuxian’s hand strokes back and forth over Wangji’s knuckles and long, fine-boned fingers. “I took all the wrong signals from it when you pulled away,” he says quietly. “I thought it meant I’d been bothering you too much, or that you’d decided you really didn’t like me after all. I thought, well there’s no way he could possibly like me when it’s clear he’s gone back to being unable to stand me again.”

Wangji closes his eyes and gives a slow, small headshake. “I only found it difficult to be near you, knowing you did not feel the same.”

“But I do feel the same!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, scooting even closer to him in the booth until they’re plastered up against one another. “Lan Zhan. I do. You know that now, right?”

Wangji looks at him. “Mn,” he replies, quiet but decisive. “It was difficult, though.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “For me, too.” He transfers his attention back to Xichen. “Sorry. I think we’re both still kind of wrapped up in it. Um, Wangji asked me to stay after school yesterday and took me to the music room. He’s been working on a composition for the past three months, he said, and when he played it for me…it hurt.” He lifts a hand to touch his chest.

Xichen nods solemnly. He’s heard snippets of the guqin arrangement Wangji has been working on for the past three months, and from what he’s heard it sounds like a plaintive love song, full of yearning. Wangji poured everything he couldn’t say into the achingly beautiful chords.

“Then he lifted his head and looked at me so intensely afterward,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “I thought right then, this is it. If I can’t tell him now, I never will.”

Xichen looks at Wangji, who has a very small, satisfied smile on his lips.

“That’s beautiful,” Xichen says with full sincerity. “I’m so happy for the two of you. Wangji, I was becoming very worried.”

“No need,” Wangji says. “Not anymore.”

Wei Wuxian beams and leans his head against his shoulder.

Their meals arrive and it breaks up the intensity of the moment in the mundanity of getting the right dishes in front of all of them, chopsticks covers ripped off and chopsticks pried apart, and everyone dives into their food. Wei Wuxian changes the subject to other topics and Xichen brings up the prospect of the home menu going forward. They establish the fact that really, Wei Wuxian isn’t picky about what he eats and won’t mind eating mostly vegetarian especially given he won’t be doing any of the cooking.

“I can always get a burger at the cafeteria if I’m feeling like meat,” Wei Wuxian says with a little nose wrinkle. “I’m sure I’ll barely miss it. And Lan Zhan can always take me out sometime if I have a craving.”

“Mn, I’ll treat you,” Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian lights up. “I’m going to marry this man someday,” he says fondly.

Xichen’s eyes widen. Now he succumbs to a trace of alarm. “Haven’t you skipped a few steps?” he says, trying to play off his concern as amusement. “Like dating for a while? An actual proposal?”

Wangji says nothing to that but his face is set.

“Lan Zhan kind of proposed already?” Wei Wuxian scratches at his ear and steals a look at Xichen, apologetic tempered with something deeper, perhaps determination. He leans against Wangji. “It’s all right, Xichen-xiong, I’m fine with a long engagement.”

Xichen scans both of their faces to see if he’s joking, but they’re serious and really, he supposes he was pretty much expecting that.

“Well,” Xichen says. They’re seventeen. It’s not that he’s expecting either of them to change their minds, exactly. He absolutely does not want to react in a way that will cause them to think they have to rush and get married as soon as they turn eighteen. The best course is probably to under-react to that revelation.

His instinct, of course, is to say you’re joking, and then he’d look to Wangji and his little brother would say he’s fully serious. So that is exactly what he is not going to do. He clears his throat.

“As long as that’s what you both want,” he settles on, and thinks that Wei Wuxian looks a bit surprised. “I only want what’s best for you, Wangji; and now for you as well, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian ducks his head, the apples of his cheeks going red, and devotes his attention to stuffing his face with dan dan noodles.

Wangji raises his brows at Xichen ever so slightly but looks mollified. He gives him an infinitesimal nod of acknowledgement.

Xichen responds with a helpless smile. What can he do but be supportive? They’re both almost of age. The last thing he wants is for the two of them running off into the night because they think they won’t be allowed to stay together.

“Let’s talk about school,” Xichen says, changing gears.

Wei Wuxian groans. He lowers his head and shoves so many noodles into his mouth that both cheeks bulge.

“I’m not sure if you’ve started applying to colleges yet; I know that Wangji has,” he begins.

Wei Wuxian brings up his hand to hide the lower half of his face as he chews. It takes him fully a few minutes to chew and swallow his enormous mouthful and he puts his hand down and makes eye contact again. “Ahh, Xichen-ge, if you’re worried about school for me, you don’t need to be.”

Xichen puts his head to the side. He rather thinks he likes the sound of that, Xichen-ge.

“I’ve, uh, been applying to all the same colleges as Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, casting another besotted side glance at him. “There’s no need to worry about the money to cover it; I have a trust that my parents set up that an old former teacher of my mother’s is in charge of. It’s more than enough to cover for college and expenses.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Xichen says. It would have been awkward, he thinks, to offer to cover the entirety of his education but there are some Lan scholarships he’d been fully prepared to nudge him toward. It seems that won’t be necessary.

Wei Wuxian spreads a hand, somehow keeping his chopsticks wedged between index and middle fingers. “I can’t touch it at all unless I’m enrolled in school or asking to arrange a payment for school, which is fine? I think it made Yu Ziyuan really bitter there was all this money in my name she didn’t have access to, though.”

“It’s only for school?” Xichen asks. He’s familiar with those types of trust funds. He’s very grateful Jiang Fengmian didn’t have open access to it. His wife would have found a way.

“Until I turn twenty-five,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding supremely unconcerned. “Then the remaining balance is available to me no matter what it is by then. Auntie Baoshan said I had enough to go wherever I want and not to worry about it. So, I haven’t worried about it.”

Xichen nods, making a note to ask later for Auntie Baoshan’s contact information. “That’s good, then. You’re applying for the same schools as Wangji, then? I mean, you were planning to, before…” He trails off.

Wei Wuxian looks over at Wangji for a second, teeth buttoned over his lower lip. “Yes,” he says, sounding shy. “Even if you didn’t feel the same way, Lan Zhan, no matter what I couldn’t imagine not having you in my life.”

Wangji looks up from his food, their eyes meet, and their fingers interlace again. “Wei Ying,” he says, low and reverent.

Xichen has to look away, fixing his attention on the sidewalk beyond the window and the passersby. It’s not like they’re kissing, or actively engaging in any form of PDA, but the intensity of that exchange feels private and Xichen is compelled to respect it.

In time they return to their lunch, and Xichen begins composing a grocery list in his head. They can all shop together and he can try and encourage Wei Wuxian to pick up any snacks or side dishes he might want to have on hand—he’s certain he won’t need to urge him to stock up on chili oil to add to his portion.

Xichen smiles at his brother, shoulder to shoulder and fingers still interlaced with the boy he’s been pining for, managing to ply his chopsticks left-handed because he’s just ambidextrous enough from years of rigorous guqin practice. Wangji catches him looking and his head dips in the slightest of nods; acknowledgement perhaps for Xichen’s unconditional acceptance and support.

The world will have enough to throw at them, Xichen is sure. He’s going to take a stand and provide them a haven because he loves his brother, and because he can.

Sunday is devoted to tying up loose ends and beginning to take the steps necessary to ensure transfer of guardianship from the Jiang family to the Lan family. Xichen didn’t think he would encounter much resistance; he would have to contact Jiang Fengmian, who had taken Wei Wuxian in when he’d been seven years old.

Xichen had had sat down with Wei Wuxian—and Wangji, of course, as they were currently inseparable—to make certain he wanted to take that final step.

Wei Wuxian had hesitated over it, chewed his lip, taken a deep breath, but ultimately he’d said yes. “If that’s how Yu Ziyuan feels knowing I’m bi, or even if it’s how she says she feels, I can’t stay there anymore.” He grimaced. “Not even to take some of the focus off Jiang Cheng.”

Xichen began to say something and stopped himself. He could hardly adopt a second charge from his natural parents, and mental abuse was a difficult thing to prove.

So he’d gotten Jiang Fengmian’s contact information from Wei Wuxian, messaged him, and had a brief phone conversation with him. The man had been bemused, regretful, but ultimately he had agreed to Xichen taking guardianship until Wei Wuxian was eighteen.

It was a relief. The emancipation process would have been the more difficult route, but Xichen had already been prepared to suggest it if Jiang Fengmian had demanded that his ward return to his home.

His second order of business had been having a conversation with Baoshan Sanren, the trustee of the Wei fund.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad,” Baoshan Sanren said to him. “I keep in touch with A-Xian, but living so far away, I’d thought it was best not to uproot him, and he seemed attached to Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng.”

“I believe he still is, and that may be why he didn’t say more,” Xichen replied. “Now that Yu Ziyuan has kicked him out, though, I have a spare room for him, and he only has a little more than half a year of school left. I believe it would be best if he stayed here with Wangji.”

“Thank you for being there for him,” Baoshan Sanren said crisply. “I can reimburse any expenses you incur from the trust.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessarily,” Lan Xichen said easily. “I can well afford anything he needs, and he doesn’t seem inclined to ask for much.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Baoshan Sanren said, sounding fond. “All right, then. Please keep in touch, Lan Xichen. I would like to ensure he thrives from this point forward.”

Xichen smiled, glancing over at Wei Wuxian side by side with Wangji on the couch as they worked together on assignments they hadn’t touched until that afternoon. “He already is.”

That simply, the transfer was complete.

They all settled into new routines, and a new way of life. Their circle expanded by not only one, but two. The Lan house was often graced with Jiang Cheng’s presence, not only to bring the remainder of Wei Wuxian’s things but often to hang out with them in the common areas until Wangji looked irritated. He asked one afternoon why Jiang Cheng was always around while Xichen was within earshot. Before Xichen could chide his brother for being rude, Jiang Cheng shot back on his own.

“Would you rather I hang out with my brother at the Jiang house?” Jiang Cheng asked pointedly.

Wangji scowled—actually scowled—at him. “I withdraw the question,” he replied shortly.

That time Xichen had to turn away to hide his smile.

By the following weekend Jiang Yanli finds out that Wei Wuxian is in residence.

Xichen supposes he shouldn’t be surprised when Jiang Yanli calls him. Wei Wuxian does seem to inspire that level of devotion from most people in his life, barring a very singular exception. He puts more water on for tea and takes his phone down the hall toward his bedroom away from two noisy teenagers and one quiet one in his living room.

“Yes, he’s staying here now, Ms. Jiang,” Xichen confirms once he’s reached a calmer area of the house.

“I am so sorry that our family has put you in this position,” Jiang Yanli says. “Mother doesn’t consider him to be family, especially because there was never any kind of adoption, but he is to me. And to Jiang Cheng. Thank you for taking care of him.”

“It is only the right thing to do, and that is no trouble,” Xichen replies. He’s unsure for a moment how much she knows, and what he ought to say. “Your father is turning custody over, not that it will be long before he’s legally an adult. Wei Wuxian is part of our family now, too.”

Jiang Yanli hesitates. When she speaks again, her voice brims with hope. “Then… Then, he and Lan Wangji…” She trails off, possibly unsure how to phrase it.

“They’ve confessed,” Xichen says, smiling. “I’m surprised Wei Wuxian isn’t shouting it from the hilltops.” He doesn’t tell her he’s already been informed they intend to marry, someday, and that Wangji is steadfast in his affections. That much is Wei Wuxian’s to disclose.

Jiang Yanli sniffles. Her voice is thick with emotion when she continues. “I knew once A-Xian gave his whole heart to someone, it would be forever. I’m afraid you are stuck with him, Lan Xichen.”

“Please, call me Xichen,” he invites. “We’re family now.”

“Xichen-xiong, then,” Jiang Yanli bargains, and he chuckles and accepts it with grace. “I’ll entrust him to Wangji’s care.”

Xichen finishes the call and returns to the living room. Only a couple of weeks ago, it was empty; Wangji himself often remained holed up in his bedroom either practicing the guqin or doing his homework at his work desk.

This afternoon, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are quarreling over something, holding each other at arms’ length on the couch, mobile phones out while they gesture vigorously. Wangji is on the couch tucked against Wei Wuxian while he ignores them both, though his entire leg from thigh to knee is pressed against his boyfriend’s. He’s often touching Wei Wuxian in some subtle way these days and Xichen is proud to see it; he thinks Wangji has been touch-starved, and it’s a wonder to see someone has finally broken through that shell to give him twelve years of the physical affection he’s been missing.

Part of him does experience a pang that Wangji would never accept brotherly hair ruffles or pats on the shoulder from Xichen himself. It’s still a relief that someone is able to provide for him, even if it wasn’t Xichen.

“All right, then,” Xichen interjects, and he doesn’t even have to clap his hands to get the attention of all three. They must be hungry. “What do we want for dinner?”

“Pizza,” Jiang Cheng says.

“Spicy noodles!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, though he has to know he’ll be vetoed.

Wangji actually puts in an opinion, which has been another marvel for Xichen since Wei Wuxian has come to live with them. “Xiong-zhang’s stir-fry.”

“Can I change my vote?” Jiang Cheng asks. “That sounds good.”

Wei Wuxian nods vigorously. “I want Xichen-ge’s stir-fry, too! Just don’t make faces at me when I pour chili crisp on it.”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng exclaims. “Eating is not a competitive sport.”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian replies. “It totally is! And there’s a Chinese woman in the top worldwide spot right now, want to see?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head with vehemence.

Xichen manages to suppress a grin with a manly effort and heads for the kitchen. “It will be vegetarian, though, unless someone wants to cook meat separately on the side.”

Wei Wuxian’s hand shoots up. Jiang Cheng reaches up and pulls it out of midair.

“Anyone but you,” Jiang Cheng says.

“I’ll do it,” Wangji says. “I don’t mind.”

There’s a smoked duck breast in the fridge, leftovers from a meal outside, and all Wangji will need to do is dice it up and warm it in a separate saucepan to add to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s bowls before serving.

Side by side, they move around the kitchen area engaged in their tasks.

“Are you happy, Wangji?” Xichen asks. It’s a teasing question. He has never seen his brother happier.

“Mn,” Wangji replies, with the softest look on his face.

“I’ve been thinking,” Xichen says. “I believe our family can sustain two additional occupants.”

Wangji looks a silent question his way.

“Would you like to adopt a couple of rabbits this weekend?” Xichen asks. He crushes garlic cloves with the flat of his chef’s knife. He knows Wangji has wanted to adopt rabbits for years, but didn’t want to burden Xichen with leaving him pets to care for when he moved for school once he discovered they could live for ten years or more.

The situation has changed. It will probably be best if he gets Wangji settled in an apartment near campus rather than putting the two young men into the hell of the dorms, if only for the recommended first year. And if they’re choosing apartments, they can certainly select one that allows rabbits.

“Xiong-zhang,” Wangji begins, and stops. He swallows and turns from dicing the duck breast. “Are you sure?”

“This is our family,” Xichen says, fully accepting it. Together with the rabbits that Wangji has yearned after for years, their little family will be complete.

[coda]

They do adopt a pair of rabbits, and the rabbits don’t like Wei Wuxian at first. He moves too much and too hastily for them. He names them Mocha and Latte and dotes on them regardless. The rabbits do love Lan Wangji, who holds as still for them as their little rabbit hearts desire. And, to Wei Wuxian’s deep disgust, the rabbits enjoy snuggling Jiang Cheng too, who needles him nonstop for a week before he starts trying to give him tips on how to hold them.

Xichen breaks the news of his new ward to Lan Qiren during a one on one, gives him a week to recover, and invites him over for dinner. Lan Qiren bears a faintly apoplectic expression any time he’s in the same room with Wei Wuxian, but after seeing Wangji’s face that first night, he doesn’t say a cross word to either of them.

Jiang Yanli has a standing invitation to visit whenever she’s in the area, but Lan Xichen draws the line at Jiang Fengmian or Yu Ziyuan.

Xichen’s going to miss them when they all go off the college, but it might—might—finally be time to finally invite the Nie family’s executive assistant out for a date.

Wangji isn’t the only one who’s been pining, and he can take example from his action.