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“Ah!” Wei Wuxian yelps as Jiang Cheng starts applying ointment to his burns. “It hurts, Jiang Cheng, it really hurts.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Jiang Cheng hisses, not ceasing his activity. “Maybe next time you won’t jump in front of a fire-breathing yao, you absolute cretin.”
Wei Wuxian hisses in a sharp breath as Jiang Cheng’s fingers hit a particularly tender spot. Jiang Cheng continues his tirade. “‘Oh, don’t worry, Sizhui, it didn’t even touch me. How about you, A-Ling?’” he mimics mercilessly. He gestures broadly at Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and chest, now covered in burns. Wei Wuxian spares a moment to be impressed at how well Jiang Cheng gives off the impression of shouting even when he’s speaking barely above a whisper. “Didn’t even touch you? What do you call this?”
“It’s nothing to write home about,” Wei Wuxian protests, wincing between words. They’re both keeping their voices low, mindful of the teenagers sleeping in the adjacent tent. “A-Yuan has this terrible habit of telling Hanguang-jun when I’ve been injured. Really, I didn’t raise him to be such a snitch; that was all Lan Zhan.”
“Maybe because he has absolutely no reason to trust you not to lie about your health?” Jiang Cheng demands. He finishes applying the ointment and takes out a roll of bandages. “I don’t know why I’m even helping you keep this a secret.”
“Because you, like me, want to avoid the wrath of Hanguang-ju—ah!” Wei Wuxian begins cheerfully only to be cut off with a yelp as Jiang Cheng tightens the bandage around his shoulder.
“I’m not fucking scared of Lan Wangji,” he growls. “And keep your voice down—A-Ling is sleeping.”
“Who said anything about being scared?” Wei Wuxian replies in a murmur. “It’s just such a hassle when Lan Zhan gets protective—you don’t want to deal with it any more than I do.”
“Damn right I don’t,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I can protect you just fine without his interference. Here, done.” He ties off the bandages and sits back on his heels to look over his handiwork.
“You can protect—” Wei Wuxian sputters with indignation. “I don’t need your protection. What the hell, Jiang Cheng?”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t dignify that with a response, just raises his eyebrows meaningfully at the fresh bandages.
“Ah, that doesn’t count, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian replies in the wheedling tone of voice Jiang Cheng remembers from their youth. “Besides, better me than A-Ling, no?” Jiang Cheng punches him in the uninjured left shoulder. “Ouch!”
“That! That right there is why you can’t be trusted!” Jiang Cheng whisper-shouts, his entire face contorted with rage. “Wei Wuxian, don’t you— don’t you dare say things like that.”
Wei Wuxian’s face goes blank with surprise. His mouth moves, but he doesn’t reply. Jiang Cheng is too angry to find satisfaction in rendering Wei Wuxian speechless for once. He wants to grab Wei Wuxian by the shoulders and shake him, but that would mean undoing the good work Jiang Cheng just did bandaging him up.
Instead, he sits forward on his knees to get right up in Wei Wuxian's personal space again. "You need to get it through your thick skull that you're not"—he grinds out the words through a throat suddenly gone thick with emotion, less than a handspan away from Wei Wuxian's nose—"fucking replaceable."
Wei Wuxian knows his eyes must be huge in his face; he has stopped breathing in the face of Jiang Cheng's fury. This is… this is not his usual anger, which Wei Wuxian would know how to deal with. This is different and new. "Jiang Cheng, I—" he has no idea how to continue, which is fine, because Jiang Cheng rolls right over anything he might have been about to say.
"No, you listen to me, Wei Wuxian," he snarls. "All our lives, you've been trying to be a martyr. Well, I won't have it! You have this precious second chance at a life and if you're going to fucking throw it away again for anybody else, I'll kill you myself."
"Jiujiu?"
For a moment, they sit there in tableau: Jiang Cheng breathing heavily from his outburst, Wei Wuxian frozen before him.
Then Jiang Cheng turns around and sticks his head out of the tent. "What's going on, A-Ling? Why aren't you asleep?"
"I thought you were keeping watch," Jin Ling says, instead of answering. His hair is down, but otherwise he's fully dressed, Suihua held loosely in his hand.
"I was. I am." Jiang Cheng sticks his head back in the tent to cast another furious glance at the still silent Wei Wuxian, then steps awkwardly out of the tent. "Just needed to have a word with your shishu. We didn't wake you up, did we?"
"No, I—" Jin Ling looks away. "I couldn't sleep," he mutters.
"Sit with me, then," Jiang Cheng says. He takes a stick and pokes at the fire, building it up again. Jin Ling sighs gratefully and sits down next to him.
Wei Wuxian stares at the flap covering the tent opening for a long time after Jiang Cheng has left. He can hear Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng talking quietly outside. Jiang Cheng's words echo in his head, you're not fucking replaceable, bouncing around and not making any sense.
"Come on a night hunt with us," Jin Ling had said. "It'll be fun," he had said. "You and jiujiu need to talk," he had said. Well, they'd talked, all right, or Jiang Cheng had, at any rate.
Wei Wuxian carefully makes his way onto his pallet, moving gingerly so as not to aggravate his burns or dislodge his bandages. He breathes deeply and slowly and eventually falls asleep.
The next day, Jiang Cheng helps him dress, holding the sleeve of every successive layer of robes for Wei Wuxian to slide his injured arm into. "I'm sorry," Wei Wuxian says softly, looking at the cow print fabric of his outer robe instead of at Jiang Cheng's face. "What you said last night… you're right. I was reckless."
Jiang Cheng steps back to let Wei Wuxian finish dressing himself. "Your life doesn't matter any less than anyone else's," he says, equally quiet. He turns away to start rolling up bedding, hiding his face in the task. "You know that, right?"
Wei Wuxian can't help the sudden sob, though he tries to gulp it down. Jiang Cheng turns back around at the sound, face going pained and open at Wei Wuxian's tears. The next thing Wei Wuxian knows, he's enfolded in his brother's arms. The embrace is loose, Jiang Cheng minding his injured side, but Wei Wuxian feels Jiang Cheng's chin come to rest on his uninjured shoulder, and the warmth of Jiang Cheng's hands on his back. Wei Wuxian tips his head forward to rest on Jiang Cheng's shoulder and lets himself take advantage of this unexpected grace, lets himself weep, hiccuping like a child.
"I'm only going to say this once," Jiang Cheng says gruffly; his voice sounds especially loud in Wei Wuxian’s right ear. "So don't forget it. You matter to me, Wei Wuxian. Stay alive."