Work Text:
Lan WangJi: At least let me bring something.
Lan WangJi: You are going to so much trouble.
Jiang Cheng: I already told you; I like cooking. It isn't trouble at all. You don't have to bring anything! Just show up.
Lan WangJi: I could bring tea
Lan WangJi: Or a salad
Lan WangJi: Or ingredients
Lan WangJi: Do you like eggs
Lan WangJi: Or bell peppers
Jiang Cheng: WOULD YOU STOP
Jiang Cheng: God. If you want to bring something so bad, grab dessert.
Lan WangJi: Oh. Okay.
Lan WangJi: Do you like fruit
Lan WangJi: Or do you prefer pastry
Lan WangJi: Perhaps cake
Jiang Cheng: HOLY SHIT, would you just
Jiang Cheng: Bring something YOU like. I'm sure I'll like it.
Lan WangJi: I have angered you. I apologize.
Jiang Cheng: What? I'm not mad.
Lan WangJi: Okay.
Lan WangJi: Do you like cookies
Jiang Cheng: ARE YOU DOING THIS ON PURPOSE
*
Four minutes early. WangJi slides his phone back into his pocket, brows furrowing. His brother has warned him before; showing up too early can be just as impolite as arriving late. Granted, that advice came after WangJi had arrived on Nie MingJue's doorstep two hours before the party was scheduled to begin, and obviously interrupted their… pregame activities.
His jaw tightens at the memory. Who would have thought MingJue-ge wears Hello Kitty boxers. Still, if WangJi is interrupting anything similar here, he has larger problems than being early.
He eases a breath through pursed lips, the sound whistling slightly while he closes his eyes and recenters. He's nervous. First dates have never been his forte; if WangJi wrote the rules of the universe, all relationships would begin six months in, when the uncomfortable 'learning what is acceptable' things are safely out of the way. After his partner has learned the taste of WangJi's breakfast smoothie (kale, it's objectively awful) from sleepy morning kisses. Once he knows that WangJi hates walking around barefoot even in the summertime and will happily parade through his apartment naked but for the carefully hiked crew socks hiding his toes.
Thoughts drifting, he wonders if Jiang Cheng will be wearing socks. If Jiang Cheng dressed up, as he did, or if he'll be more casual. His eyes close yet again, impatient with himself. It's clothes. Clothes I hope I am not wearing by the end of the night. WangJi had agonized over it for an embarrassingly long time, finally calling his brother for help.
'Wear slacks then, WangJi. You obviously want to. I don't think being dressed 'too' nicely exists, on a first date. He'll just… know you're serious about things.'
Something about his brother's gentle laughter had soothed him, like always, and WangJi had donned his favorite grey trousers with renewed resolve.
Whispered conversation pulls his attention back to the hallway. A man and woman stand at their door, looking at WangJi with open curiosity. Jiang Cheng's neighbors. I must make a good impression.
"Good evening," he murmurs, solemn, bowing slightly at the waist. The woman giggles, they return his greeting, and then WangJi is back to staring at Jiang Cheng's door. He checks his phone again.
Two minutes. I should have asked Brother what counts as 'too' early. Clenching and unclenching his fists, the plastic bag in his hand softly crinkles as he considers. It's easy to get 'early' wrong, if one is attempting to avoid it. One tiny miscalculation, and early shifts to 'late'. WangJi will not accept such an outcome under any circumstances. Perhaps he is thinking too hard about this; it is natural to want to avoid mistakes, but surely Jiang Cheng will understand if-
The door swings open, and WangJi gasps before he can stop himself.
"How long were you going to stand out here?" Jiang Cheng asks, clearly amused.
Oh. Oh, he looks lovely. WangJi's eyes drag up Jiang Cheng's long, muscled legs. Dark jeans. Casual, but nicer than regular jeans. I should have worn jeans. An apron covers Jiang Cheng's front; an outline drawing of a lotus pod stretches across the chest, the words 'De-shell me; I'm worth the work' curled below. "Jiang Cheng," he breathes, eyes finally drifting to his face, and is enchanted with the knowing sparkle in his eyes, the curl of his lips.
"Why were you standing on my doorstep."
WangJi offers a belated bow. "I did not want to be late," he explains, looking up through his lashes, "but I did not want to be early."
Jiang Cheng's smile is staggering. WangJi is not going to survive this night. "You're a pretty serious guy, huh," Jiang Cheng laughs, then steps back, beckoning WangJi inside. "Come on. Dinner's ready."
While WangJi steps out of his shoes, he holds the bag toward Jiang Cheng. "Dessert."
"Oh, right! Great. Does it need to be refrigerated or-" Voice halting abruptly, Jiang Cheng stares into the bag. "Um."
"They are better when cold, yes," WangJi says, head tilting when Jiang Cheng looks back up, confused. "You said to bring something I liked," WangJi continues, nodding encouragingly toward the bag.
"Boxed smoothies," Jiang Cheng murmurs, as if to himself.
"Chocolate banana," WangJi points out. "They are quite sweet, so I occasionally have one in the evenings, as a treat."
"Oh my god." The words are concerning, but Jiang Cheng is smiling again, wide and dimpled, and the laugh that rolls from his chest is so sweet… "You… Thank you, Lan WangJi."
WangJi cannot help smiling in return, a faint curl of his lips. "Of course." Jiang Cheng herds him to the kitchen table, asks him for drink preferences, gets the smoothies into the fridge, ditches his apron at some point, and soon they are sat across from each other with entirely too much food spread between them.
Wide-eyed, WangJi meets Jiang Cheng's gaze, charmed to see color pinking his cheekbones. "I maybe went a little overboard," Jiang Cheng admits with a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I was worried you wouldn't like one thing or another, and I just… ended up with too much."
"So much trouble," WangJi whispers, unsure of where to begin. "You didn't need to."
Jiang Cheng leans forward, arms crossing over his chest. "Full disclosure, Lan WangJi. You are like… really fucking hot. And even better, you seem like a genuinely kind person. I have no idea what you saw in me that… Well, I don't want to fuck this up. So even if you hate every single thing I made, I wouldn't consider it trouble, because then I'll know more about what you don't like."
When WangJi can do nothing but stare in stunned silence, Jiang Cheng shrugs, eyes darting to the floor. "So anyway. If you don't like it, we'll order take out or something."
With conviction, WangJi decides he will love every last thing Jiang Cheng has made. Even if it kills him. No one has ever done something like this for him before, and half-formed, hysterical laughter threatens to bubble from his throat. He wants to cry. He wants to kiss Jiang Cheng. He keeps his face perfectly still instead, and begins scooping various things to his plate.
"It smells very good," he manages, and Jiang Cheng's eyes light up. It becomes clear as WangJi eats that Jiang Cheng really enjoys cooking; every dish has a story, which Jiang Cheng shares as they make their way through their (impressively delicious) meal. WangJi nods at appropriate intervals, silent and awestruck that someone as beautiful and talented and generous as Jiang Cheng seems so interested in whether WangJi is happy, whether WangJi likes this tea or that entree, whether WangJi is having a nice time.
At the last question, WangJi sets his chopsticks on his plate and quickly dabs his mouth with a napkin. "I am having a wonderful evening," he assures him. "Everything is-"
Both he and Jiang Cheng startle wildly at the sound of the front door slamming open. "... last time you said that, you were eating pineapple pizza for a week. All I'm saying is, don't fucking TEST me."
They look at each other across the table, eyebrows raised in surprise, and then Jiang Cheng's face darkens.
"I told you guys already, we don't need to order anything! Jiang Cheng will cook-"
Wei WuXian rounds the corner and comes to a skidding stop in the doorway, voice cutting off as the guys behind him plow into him one after the other.
"Wei WuXian," Jiang Cheng lilts, and WangJi has never heard anything so ostensibly harmless sound so menacing.
Wei WuXian's eyes are locked on WangJi, his mouth a comedic 'o' of shock. "Oh no, I-"
"I thought I asked you to make yourself scarce until at least ten o'clock tonight?" Jiang Cheng continues, and Wei WuXian begins shaking his head wildly.
"Oh my GOD! Oh shit, I'm so sorry, Jiang Cheng! And um, Mr. ..."
"Lan WangJi," WangJi offers, inclining his head as Jiang Cheng stands from his chair and begins advancing across the kitchen.
"EeeeEEEEE, no, A-Cheng, PLEAAASE," Wei WuXian shrieks, jumping behind his gaggle of friends and peering between their shoulders. "I just forgot, I'm so sorrreeee!"
Jiang Cheng does come to a stop, feet spread and arms at his sides, but WangJi finds his own brows furrowing at the look on Jiang Cheng's face. "You forgot," he mutters, and WangJi recognizes hurt swirling beneath the anger in his tone.
Oh, mercy. This is… more complicated than it seems. Lifting himself from his chair, WangJi places his napkin on the table, mind racing. "Jiang Cheng," he murmurs, and five sets of eyes swing to him. "I have finished eating; perhaps we could… head elsewhere, for the rest of our date."
"You interrupted their date?" a voice hisses from one of Wei WuXian's friends, elbows starting to fly as they whisper 'you're here too, asshole' and 'fucking shut UP' at one another.
"The view from my balcony is lovely during the sunset," WangJi continues, which seems to silence the crowd, and something softens in Jiang Cheng's gaze. "If we left now, we could still catch it."
A couple of heartbeats pass, complete silence reigning, and then Jiang Cheng nods. "Absolutely," he states. He turns to face Wei WuXian and the rest. "You guys can eat whatever we didn't."
He stomps through them, heading for the door, ignoring their squealed gratitude, and shoves Wei WuXian when he tries to latch on for a hug. "I would recommend all of you be gone by the time I get back home, unless you want to see this asshole murdered. Wei fucking WuXian, thank Lan WangJi for your temporary reprieve, because you are a walking dead man."
Before Wei WuXian can muster a word, Jiang Cheng continues. "Lan WangJi. Grab our dessert." With that, he's out the front door, and WangJi sketches a half-assed bow at the group before diving into the fridge for the smoothies and hustling after him.
*
"These are actually really good," Jiang Cheng snickers, pulling another sip through his straw, and WangJi nods, their fingers linked at their sides as they watch the sun sinking.
"The vanilla mint is acceptable as well."
Jiang Cheng snorts. "That sounds disgusting."
"You would think," WangJi sighs, shoulder lifting in a tiny shrug. "But it is somehow not."
A comfortable quiet descends, and the two enjoy the view and the proximity, WangJi scootching a bit closer so their sides are pressed together. When his straw rattles obnoxiously in the bottom of his empty drink, he places the box down and deliberately fixes his gaze on the skyline.
"You and your brother live together," he softly says, and Jiang Cheng lets out a long, exasperated sigh.
"It's easier that way; he doesn't make a lot of money, and he's… kind of a flake. Flits from job to job. At least this way, I know he has a roof over his head and food to eat."
WangJi mulls this over, then nods. "Very kind of you," he murmurs, and a humorless laugh scrapes from Jiang Cheng's throat.
"It doesn't feel like kindness," Jiang Cheng grumbles, darting a glance to WangJi before looking away. "I promised my sister I'd look after him, so I do. He's just… he's so 'carefree' and 'whimsical' and shit, but to me it just feels really thoughtless and irresponsible, most of the time. And he claims I'm too stern and cranky and whatever the hell else he feels like saying when we fight."
"I'm sorry," WangJi murmurs, leaning closer, and Jiang Cheng shrugs, shooting him a smile.
"Hey, it's fine. I mean, I love him, he's family, you know? And he makes me look like a serious, capable adult in comparison."
"You are a capable adult."
Laughing, Jiang Cheng turns toward WangJi, stepping closer still. "I think you have me beat on the 'serious' thing, though." Jiang Cheng's voice is low, intimate, and WangJi feels like every inch of his skin is suddenly buzzing with the need to touch him.
"I want to kiss you," WangJi rasps, surprisingly hoarse.
A flash of a crooked smile, and then Jiang Cheng leans in, mouth gentle on WangJi's. Everything about it is both fantastic and not nearly enough, Jiang Cheng's thumb brushing over his cheekbone, his chest pressed to WangJi's own.
WangJi cannot recall enjoying such a chaste, careful kiss so much in his life. Anticipation floods him, a warm wave starting where their lips move against one another and barrelling through him like he's drowning, stealing his breath. He's light-headed. Dizzy with it. When his arms slide around Jiang Cheng's waist, their matching sighs set a flame in his belly alight.
Oh, he wants, he wants so badly… "Jiang Cheng," he whispers, pulling back just enough to speak.
"Yes?" Jiang Cheng murmurs, obviously amused, and pushes his fingers into WangJi's hair.
"I changed my sheets today."
Jaw going slack, Jiang Cheng blinks before a guffaw rolls from his chest, and his arm tightens around WangJi's shoulders. "Did you just tell me you want to take me to bed?"
WangJi's lips stretch from his teeth. He has never been good at subtlety. It's too soon. I shouldn't have said anything- "I… Yes, but you don't have-"
"You don't waste any time, do you," Jiang Cheng breathes, but he's grinning so wide, WangJi feels the tightness in his chest let go. "Hell yeah. Show me the way."
The words are barely out before WangJi has Jiang Cheng by the hand, dragging him inside and through the living room, down the hallway, and into his bedroom. "I wore my best underwear, just in case," he solemnly informs Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng's cackle is so loud, it echoes off the walls.
"You are something else," he laughs, and WangJi turns to him, expression serious.
"Is that good or bad."
"It's good, it's good," Jiang Cheng giggles, pulling him close, and soon they are kissing again. WangJi is thrilled when Jiang Cheng pushes further, his tongue hot and slick in WangJi's mouth. God, and there's that feeling again, drowning but nowhere near water, and WangJi groans into Jiang Cheng's mouth, breathless and stupid with desire.
"Me too," Jiang Cheng mumbles, and WangJi forces himself to pull away, to take in Jiang Cheng's flushed cheeks, his blown pupils, the wetness on his lips.
"You too?"
"The underwear," Jiang Cheng snickers, and when WangJi smiles, broad and open, Jiang Cheng laughs and shoves him to the bed. "Holy shit, you're gorgeous when you smile-"
"Jiang Cheng."
Eyebrow raised, Jiang Cheng settles himself with his elbows on either side of WangJi's ribs. "Yeah?"
"What if your underwear is better than mine."
WangJi does his best, but with Jiang Cheng gaping in stunned confusion, he only lasts a couple seconds before he starts giggling. "Oh my GOD!" Jiang Cheng hollers, burying his face in WangJi's neck and tittering helplessly. "The hell… I was panicking! I didn't think you were capable of making jokes."
"I'm a comedic genius," WangJi breathes, sliding both hands into Jiang Cheng's hair. "My brother swears it."
"Let's make the bed a 'no brother' conversation zone, what do you say," Jiang Cheng murmurs, sliding his nose along WangJi's ear and drawing a shivered breath from deep in his chest.
"Okay."
"I'm going to start taking off your clothes now, Lan WangJi."
"Mn."
But Jiang Cheng doesn't move, doesn't kiss him or put his hands on him, and WangJi tilts his head, eyebrow lifting. "Is something the matter?"
"Why are you suddenly holding so still?"
WangJi feels heat rushing to his ears and his cheeks, and his gaze darts to the side. "I want you to… You should do what you want. I can be-" He places his hands over his face. "Kind of aggressive," he whispers.
"Oh hell," Jiang Cheng chokes out, pupils blowing. "Are you fucking teasing me? Do I look breakable, to you?"
Lowering his hands, WangJi shakes his head. "Okay, but… Take off your own clothes." He immediately sets about unbuttoning his own shirt, and Jiang Cheng snorts, straightening up to his knees to comply.
"What, like you'd tear 'em up, otherwise?"
It is obvious, even after the last button pings off the dresser mirror and spins in an extended death-wobble on the floor, that Jiang Cheng has no idea what to say. Lan WangJi's shirt hangs in two pieces, gripped tight in each fist, and he is starting to feel decidedly stupid about his terrible attempt at humor.
Then Jiang Cheng begins laughing so hard he's wheezing.
"Lan Wang-JIII," he sobs, head shaking, and scrambles across the bed to crash their lips together. "Oh my god, oh my god you are fuckin'... You're the best," he slurs against WangJi's lips, and soon the two are far too involved in each other to make any more jokes.