Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is no amount of coffee that can get him through the rest of his day. 

He’s been on his feet for ten hours, walking the floor, refolding piles of discarded shirts, fetching clothes for entitled teenagers brandishing their parents’ credit cards. The ache in his feet is familiar, as is the dull throb of fatigue behind his eyes.

He pulls himself into his apartment, flipping on the overhead light and vaguely noting, as he always does, that he should really try to clean up.

He tosses his shoes in a pile by the door, his overshirt following, and collapses face first onto the sofa with a groan.

90 minutes. He has 90 minutes before he has to leave for his night classes. That means he has enough time to order some food, eat, and maybe shower, if he’s feeling ambitious.

He is not. He uses his precious shower time to lay face down on his scratchy, threadbare couch a little longer.

Eventually, he peels himself up and orders dinner from whatever restaurant shows the quickest delivery time. He’s not even entirely sure what he orders, just that it’s food, and it should be there in 20 minutes.

Sustenance secured, he walks into the kitchen -- a big word for what is really just a fridge, a hotplate, and a sink tucked into the corner of his studio apartment -- and brews a pot of coffee, which he intends to finish before he leaves for classes.

This is his life. It’s not that bad, he thinks. He’s managed for 8 months now. Wen Qing keeps lecturing him about the negative health impacts of his diet and sleep habits, but he feels fine, really. He’s young. This is what it’s supposed to be like when you’re 19: burning the candle at both ends, pulling all-nighters, surviving off of caffeine, booze, and pizza. Given, that lifestyle is supposed to involve a lot more fun and partying, and a lot less bone-grinding weariness. But, the point is, Wei Ying isn’t too worried about his health. He can handle it.

Besides, it’s not as though he has a choice. He hadn’t chosen to get disowned by the Jiangs on his 18th birthday. It had just … kind of happened. He certainly hadn’t looked at the future and decided that working full-time retail to pay for night school and a dingy studio apartment with nothing but a dumpster-dived couch and a cheap coffeemaker was his dream. 

This is all just temporary. He just needs to get through the next year and a half. Get his associate’s degree in … whatever, and then find a real job -- one with benefits and regular hours. Then he can sleep.

The intercom buzzes, and Wei Ying shoves his feet into his slippers and plods his way down the stairs.

He opens the door, the muggy August air smacking him in the face, but there’s no one there. 

At least, there’s no one at eye level.

There is definitely someone there, he realizes, as he looks down and sees a battered car seat, from which a very tiny baby is blinking up at him. 

Wei Ying stares at it. It stares back. There is a piece of paper pinned to its shirt, and he realizes, with the same detached interest he might feel in a dream, that his name is scrawled on it.

He reaches out and tugs the paper from the baby’s shirt, unfolding it and reading.

        “Wei Wuxian,
        Meet your cousin, Yuan. 
        Please take care of him.”

His cousin. His cousin? His cousin?

Wei Ying doesn’t have any family. He doesn’t have cousins. This has to be a mistake.

Except. The note is clearly addressed to him. The baby is very much on his doorstep.

Yuan makes a wet, burbling sound. It cuts to Wei Ying’s core. This is an honest-to-god baby. Tiny hands, tiny feet, tiny everything. Helpless, with a note asking Wei Ying to look after him.

Wei Ying picks up the car seat, and the bag of greasy takeout he’s just noticed sitting next to it. “Alright, Yuan-er,” he says to the baby. “Come on in. We’ve got some things to figure out.”

Chapter Text

2 Years Later

The copier is, of course, malfunctioning again.

The copier never works. It is always jammed, or mysteriously out of toner despite the fact that Wei Ying replaces the cartridge every two weeks. When he finds whoever it is that is abusing their copier privileges, Wei Ying is going to personally jam them inside the machine. 

He’s elbow deep in one of the many compartments, attempting to wrestle a stack of chewed up paper from one of the rollers, when someone walks up behind him, clearing their throat in that “why are you wasting my time” way that seems to be part of the middle management training program.

Wei Ying looks up and tries his best to force a smile at Jin Zixun, who is definitely glaring at him. As though Wei Ying is slacking off, and not actually fighting the shitty office equipment back into working order. 

Whatever. He can handle this. Jiejie worked so hard to get this job for him, practically begging her stupid peacock of a husband. Wei Ying hated the idea of Jiang Yanli begging for anything , especially on his behalf, but … well. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t needed the help, being an underemployed dropout and all. So he can play nice. For a-jie.

“Wei Wuxian. You missed the all-hands this morning.”

Wei Ying does not roll his eyes. Which, really, he should get some kind of bonus for. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to fix the copier. Have to get the QBR deck for Ouyang Produce bound and ready before Jin Guangyao leaves for the airport.”

“The all-hands is not optional. Don’t miss it again.”

“Yes, sir,” Wei Ying says, and he barely even sounds sarcastic. Jin Zixun narrows his eyes at him nonetheless. 

“This is the new Director of Finance. You’ll be his administrative assistant.”

Wei Ying finally shifts his focus fully away from the copier and notices that Jin Zixun is not alone. Standing behind him, wearing a sleek gray suit -- the plain kind that screams expensive -- and a disinterested, passive expression, is Lan Wangji. 

Wei Ying sits up in surprise, and cracks his head on the paper tray. “Lan Zhan!” he gasps, scurrying to his feet.

Jin Zixun scowls at him. Lan Wangji’s face remains as impassive as ever. “Lan Wangji will be your primary responsibility going forward,” Jin Zixun advises, his tone clipped. “However, that does not mean you can shirk your other duties. Lan Wangji, let’s continue your tour.” Jin Zixun turns away from Wei Ying, apparently done with the introductions. 

Lan Wangji continues looking at Wei Ying a moment longer, before turning and following Jin Zixun.

Wei Ying is suddenly aware that his mouth is open, and snaps it closed.

Of all people … why did it have to be Lan Wangji?

He groans and drops his head with a thunk to the copier. It jolts to life and begins, at last, to spit out photocopies of the deck he’s been working on for the last hour.

It’s 10am.

It’s going to be a long day.

--------

5 o’clock does eventually come around, and Wei Ying hurls himself out of the office in his eagerness to get out the door before anyone can ask him for anything else. 

His whole day has been an endless stream of people asking him for things that, quite frankly, are not his job. Fixing computers, formatting powerpoints, copy editing RFPs, training the interns -- on top of his usual work, of course, which now also includes being a personal assistant to Lan Wangji, apparently.

Given, this last bit wasn’t terrible. Lan Wangji didn’t seem to have much work for Wei Ying to do. He was organized enough on his own that he didn’t need much from a PA. It was just that, the man’s presence itself was damoclean, exhausting, eating at the edges of Wei Ying’s attention all day as he awaited the inevitable fuckup that would set everything off. 

And there would be a fuckup. There would be a catastrophe, he was sure. Wei Ying and Lan Wangji had been classmates, back in high school, which had been a series of catastrophes.They hadn’t exactly gotten along.

Correction. Lan Wangji had hated him.

Which was, quite frankly, entirely Wei Ying’s fault. Looking back, he can see his endless teasing and pestering for what it was. Wei Ying had been very, very closeted and Lan Wangji had been very, very beautiful. He remains very beautiful, the most beautiful person Wei Ying has ever seen. Except now, Wei Ying is not the repressed ball of gay panic he’d been at 15, so he can look without feeling the overwhelming urge to pull the man’s glossy black ponytail.

Well. Without giving in to the overwhelming urge to pull his ponytail.

Anyway, all of this is to say that, at the end of his 8 hour work day, Wei Ying feels as though he has aged 10 years, and he wants nothing more than to get back home.

He is nearly all the way out the door, when somebody calls his name. “Wei Ying!”

He closes his eyes for a moment, pushing back the exhaustion, and turns with a bright smile. “Nie-xiong!”

Nie Huaisang walks up to him. “So, did you see him?” he asks. He is sparkling with mischief, and Wei Ying, as much as he likes his friend, is not up for this.

“See who?” he plays dumb.

Nie Huaisang smiles wider and smacks him lightly on the arm with one of his hand-painted fans that he is perpetually wafting around. “Lan Wangji!” he says excitedly. “You know, your first love, the guy you had a crush on for the entirety of your teenage years, the one you pined after so hard your friends nearly disowned you?”

“Shut up ,” Wei Ying hisses, looking around to make certain there’s no one around. “I did not pine after him. Don’t say things like that, someone could hear you.”

His friend titters, and flutters his fan. “So, what are you going to do now that tall, fair, and beautiful has walked back into your life?”

“Nothing,” Wei Ying says, resolutely. “I’m going to work, and then I’m going to go home.”

“Mm,” Nie Huaisang presses his lips into a displeased line, “how boring. What happened to fun Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying doesn’t answer. Fun Wei Ying stopped existing about 3 years ago, when the consequences of being Fun Wei Ying had finally caught up to him. “I’ve gotta go,” he says, “I’m gonna be late -- ah shit.”

They’ve reached the front door, and Wei Ying sees for the first time that it is pouring rain. “You don’t have an extra umbrella by any chance?” he asks Nie Huaisang, a little desperately. 

“No,” he says, “I’m getting a ride home with da-ge.”

“Right.”

Wei Ying sighs, and rucks his jacket up over his head. “See you tomorrow, Nie-xiong,” he says, and runs out into the rain.

--------

He’s only a little late to the daycare today. Only 20 minutes, which is hardly even that bad. He thinks he doesn’t entirely deserve the dirty look the childcare worker is throwing at him. “A-Yuan!” he cries, dropping to one knee and holding out his arms.

Yuan shrieks with happiness, abandoning his blocks and running into Wei Ying’s arms. It is the same greeting Wei Ying gets every day, and he will never get sick of it. “Baba! I made a bunny!”

“You did?” Wei Ying says, widening his eyes in excitement. “Can you show me?”

“Yeah!” Yuan says. “It’s -- it’s here!” He holds up two fingers on his pudgy little hand. “These are bunny ears!”

“Oh my goodness, it’s a bunny!” Wei Ying gasps. “I’ve always loved to eat bunnies! Delicious!”

He play bites at Yuan’s fingers, and the little boy giggles and tries to push his head away.

The daycare attendant is looking at them with a “please leave now” expression on her face, which, Wei Ying thinks, is proof that this person should not work with children. Anyone who can look at Yuan -- most perfect baby on earth -- with that look definitely should not be around kids. “Say bye to Sarah!” Wei Ying says as he lifts Yuan onto his hip.

“Bye bye, Sarah!” Yuan repeats, waving at her. Sarah waves back, reluctantly, and shoos them out the door.

“A-Yuan, what do you think we should have for dinner?” Wei Ying asks as he pulls his rain logged jacket over Yuan’s head to protect him from the worst of the weather. 

“I want cereal,” Yuan answers after a thoughtful moment.

“Cereal it is!” Wei Ying says happily, and begins to speed walk home. 

--------

"Unacceptable!" Jin Zixun is screaming, about 6 inches from his face. "Sloppy! Do you even understand what you could've cost us?"

Wei Ying is fighting hard to keep his mouth closed, his hands balled up in fists behind his back.

When he'd walked into the office this morning and noticed the eyes following him, the heads coming together in whispers as he passed, he'd known it wasn't going to be a good day. He'd been right. No sooner had he powered up his computer, than Jin Zixun had stormed up to him and begun screaming at him at full volume in front of the entire office about an apparently unforgivable typo they'd found while presenting to Ouyang Produce. Wei Ying thought it was a little funny, to be honest, to watch a man get so bent out of shape over the word "ass", but the humor was somewhat mitigated by the fact that he was being screamed at for something that was very much not his fault.

"I should've expected it!" Jin Zixun is yelling. "What else can you expect from some uneducated dropout who only got this job by taking advantage of others?"

Wei Ying, who has been doing a very good job being quiet up until now, feels the pressure in his head crank to a ten. He opens his mouth, ready to release some of the steam, to tell Jin Zixun exactly what he thinks about him, of all people, screaming about nepotism, when --

"What is the problem here?"

Lan Wangji walks up to them, his voice as steady and cool as ever. He is looking between Jin Zixun and Wei Ying, eyes lingering on the stack of papers the former is waving in Wei Ying's face.

"The problem--!" Jin Zixun yells. Lan Wangji's eyes narrow a fraction at him, and Jin Zixun stops, and restarts, his voice quieter this time. "The problem is this!" He holds up the presentation to Lan Wangji, jabbing his finger at the offending word.

Lan Wangji looks at it, then at Jin Zixun's livid face, Wei Ying's flushed one.

"Did Wei Wuxian create the presentation?" he asks.

"No, Wei Wuxian didn't," Wei Ying answers before Jin Zixun can say anything. "Wei Ying was sent a deck marked 'Final' and told to print, laminate, and bind 25 copies in two hours."

Lan Wangji turns his attention to Jin Zixun. "You are disrupting the office," he says in that same level voice of his. "Come to my office. We will discuss."

Wei Ying tries very hard to keep the smug smile off of his face as Jin Zixun's eyes widen and he splutters at Lan Wangji, who has already turned his back on him. He shoots a parting glare at Wei Wuxian before following after him.

--------

A day that starts with being screamed at by a Jin should have nowhere to go but up. Unfortunately, that is not the case. At 11am Wei Ying’s phone rings. It is Yuan's daycare.

"Yuan is running a fever," the man on the other end of the line tells him, "you'll need to come get him."

Wei Ying thanks him before hanging up. It's the start of the quarter. There is so much work to do, he really can't afford to leave. But, of course, he has to.

He groans and puts his face in his hands, trying to think of how to tell Jin Zixun, who is already looking for reasons to show him the door, that he needs to leave early.

"Are you unwell?"

Wei Ying looks up. Lan Wangji is watching him over the wall of his cubicle. Wei Ying laughs sourly before he can stop himself. Lan Wangji's eyebrows knit together slightly, perhaps in concern.

"Sorry, sorry," Wei Ying says. "I just got a call from my son's daycare. He's sick and they need me to come get him. Is there something you need? I can do it before I go, maybe, but I've got to tell Jin Zixun…"

"Your son is sick?" Lan Zhan asks, the concerned look deepening, perhaps.

"Yeah. He has a fever. Runny noses and tummy aches are okay, but fevers are Not Allowed at daycare."

Lan Wangji's eyes stay on him for a long, silent moment, before he nods. "You may go get him."

"Oh," Wei Ying says. "I should really clear it with Jin Zixun. And I'll need to talk to Patricia, let her know she needs to cover for me…"

"That is unnecessary," Lan Wangji says. "I have spoken with Jin Zixun. You report to me now. You are dismissed to pick up your son."

Wei Ying gapes at him. Surely, this is a joke. Surely Lan Wangji doesn't have the authority to, just, reassign Wei Ying like this. "Okay," Wei Ying says slowly. Now is not the time to be looking a gift horse in the mouth. "Okay. I'll take my laptop, so you can reach me if you need anything. You have my number?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

"Okay, here," he grabs a Post-It note and jots his cell down, handing it to Lan Wangji. "I'll be online as soon as I get home. I'll find a sitter for tomorrow if he's still not feeling well, don't worry…"

"It is fine," Lan Wangji says, taking the note.

"Okay," Wei Ying says uncertainly, but he doesn't have time to make sense of any of this. "Okay, thanks! See you tomorrow!"

He runs out of the office all the way to the daycare center, wondering if something good has come out of this day after all.

--------

Yuan is a mess. 

Wei Ying is cuddling him on the couch, brushing his hand over his little head, feeling nearly as miserable as his son does. Yuan is whimpering and wiping his snotty nose on Wei Ying's shirt. 

Wei Ying is waiting for the postmate to deliver the children's tylenol and pedialyte he ordered, kicking himself for not having any on hand. Of course he didn't have any. Two years of fatherhood and he was still just a colossal failure. 

His phone rings. He picks it up and sees he has a text from an unknown number.

He normally would ignore it, but it may be the driver. He maneuvers the phone with one hand, so as not to disturb Yuan.

How is your son?

Wei Ying scowls at the phone in confusion.

who is this?

This is Lan Wangji. 
Is he feeling any better?

Oh. Wei Ying blinks in surprise. Why would Lan Wangji be texting him to ask about Yuan? Unless…

lan zhan!!
hes pretty pathetic tbh
dont worry
im trying to arrange a sitter for tomorrow
if not i can work from home no problem

That is fine. Do not worry about it.
Do you need anything?

Wei Ying chews on his lip as he reads this last part. He should be asking Lan Wangji that, not the other way around.

just for the delivery person to get here with the meds already
but no all good here
do u need anything?

I am fine.
What medicine do you need?

fever
runny nose
general malaise
kid’s got the works
pretty shitty father not to have kids meds around huh?
i bet lan zhan has a whole cabinet of meds even though he doesnt have kids
Just In Case!
hahaha uve always been a real boy scout lan zhan

Lan Wangji doesn't reply to that. Wei Ying can't blame him. He opens the postmates app and sees that the driver still isn't even at the store. He sighs and presses his lips to Yuan's hot forehead.

--------

The doorbell rings. Wei Ying blinks awake, not realizing he'd fallen asleep. Yuan is dozing on top of him. He holds the boy tightly to him and sits up, carrying him over to the door. He's grateful that he no longer lives in his old walkup, as he doesn't fancy carrying 30 lbs of sleeping toddler up and down the stairs.

He opens the door, but it isn't the delivery driver he’d been expecting.

"Lan Zhan?" he frowns, uncertain what is happening. "Is everything okay?"

Lan Wangji is standing there, looking immaculate in his slate colored suit, holding a pair of reusable grocery tote bags in either hand.

"May I come in?" he asks.

Yuan stirs in Wei Ying's arms, making fussy, unhappy noises.

"Yeah, sure, of course. Come in," Wei Ying says, still unsure what to make of the situation. He steps aside to let Lan Wangji step past him into his cluttered, shoebox home. 

Lan Wangji looks spectacularly out of place. Wei Ying is proud of his home, but he suffers no delusions about it. The 1000 sq. foot two bedroom is old and cluttered with Yuan's toys and Wei Ying's general cloud of chaos. The pipes hiss, the windows are so drafty they're more for decoration than function. But it's his home. He scrounged and saved and begged and borrowed to afford it. He did it for Yuan. His home was proof that he wasn't the transient flake everyone thought he was.

But Lan Wangji is standing there in a suit that likely cost more than everything in the house put together, and it makes Wei Ying painfully aware of how little it truly is. 

"Can I get you anything?" Wei Ying asks a little awkwardly. What he wants to ask is, ‘what are you doing here?’ but that seems a little rude, and he’s vaguely aware that he should be a good host, although he is uncertain what the protocol is when your new, painfully handsome boss shows up at your house in the middle of the workday unannounced.

"I have medicine," Lan Wangji says, ignoring the question and walking over to the coffee table to set down the bags.

"You --- what?" 

"Have medicine," Lan Wangji repeats.

"Yeah, no, I heard you," Wei Ying says, "I just -- I don't -- you brought medicine?"

Lan Wangji looks at him, raising one eyebrow slightly.

Right. Medicine. Of course.

"I -- thanks," Wei Ying says. He shifts Yuan's weight a little, his arm starting to tire out. Lan Wangji walks over. “How did you get my address?”

"HR,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying thinks that that probably isn’t allowed, but says nothing. “I can hold him,” Lan Wangji offers.

"Oh, no!" Wei Ying laughs a little. "Lan Zhan, he's a snotty mess. He'll ruin your suit! Let me just go lay him down, hang on."

He takes Yuan to his bedroom and lays him on his low toddler bed. The boy kicks a little, miserably, but Wei Ying pushes his hair back and kisses him on the forehead, and he settles back down into sleep.

Wei Ying walks back into the living room, and finds Lan Wangji is sitting on the couch, unbagging what appears to be the entire children's section of the pharmacy.

"Lan Zhan, did you buy everything they had?" Wei Ying asks, unable even to laugh as he takes a seat next to him, surveying the army of bottles and pill packs arranged on the table.

"Wasn't sure what he needed," Lan Zhan answers.

"You didn't need to--" Wei Ying says, and shakes his head. His phone rings in his pocket again he takes it out and sees that the postmates driver has cancelled the order. Probably because Lan Wangji cleared out the whole drugstore, Wei Ying thinks a little wildly.

"Thanks," he says. "You definitely didn't have to. But, thanks."

Lan Wangji nods.

Silence stretches between them, as Wei Ying scrambles for something to say. He's good at this, usually, but this situation is so bizarre that he's not sure where even to start.

"What is his name?" Lan Wangji asks.

"Yuan," Wei Ying says. "Cute name, yeah? Suits him, even if I didn't come up with it."

"His mother's choice?"

Wei Ying shrugs. "Maybe? I don't actually know who his mom is."

Lan Wangji gives him a look at this announcement, clearly trying to sort through how that works. Wei Ying can't help but laugh at that a little. 

"Yuan is my cousin … technically. I guess. I adopted him officially a year ago, though. No one actually knows who his biological parents are. He just … showed up on my doorstep. And, poof! I had a baby!"

This explanation does nothing to make Lan Wangji look less puzzled. "I'm gonna go give the little guy some meds," Wei Ying says, grabbing the clamshell wrapped measuring spoon Lan Wangji purchased and the grape flavored fever reducer. "I'll be right back."

He wakes Yuan as gently as possible and gives him his medicine. The boy takes it without resistance, too weak and tired to fight him. Now that he's awake, though, he doesn't want to go back to bed, clinging to Wei Ying like a very cranky koala.

They walk back into the room together, and he finds Lan Zhan in the kitchen loading dishes into the dishwasher.

"Lan Zhan! What are you doing?"

Lan Zhan turns to him, quirking an eyebrow at him. "I am cleaning."

"Well, stop it!" Wei Ying cries. "Don't clean my house! That's so embarrassing!"

"I do not mind," Lan Wangji says, turning back to the task.

" I mind ," Wei Ying splutters. Lan Wangji ignores him.

He is about to protest further, but at that moment he notices something damp leaking down his side. 

Yuan is crying softly, and he realizes the boy has peed himself.

"Oh, Yuan," he says gently, kissing his son's head. "It's okay, buddy."

He looks at Lan Wangji. "I need to get Yuan cleaned up," he says. "I'm gonna put him in the bath."

Lan Wangji nods at him. Wei Ying wonders if he should ask him to leave, but the man seems perfectly content to stay, being all domestic in his house, and Wei Ying finds he can't quite bring himself to do it. Lan Wangji will leave when he's ready.

Wei Ying changes his own clothes, and then bathes Yuan. The medicine seems to be working already, as the boy is much pluckier by the time Wei Ying is toweling him off. 

He's in desperate need of a shower himself, given the fact that he was peed on and all, but he's resigned to waiting until Yuan is back in bed.

He brings the freshly cleaned and adorably pajamaed boy out with him -- Wei Ying couldn't resist putting him in his bunny footed onesie, just to show off, a little, how cute his son is, even if he is sick and snotty.

"A-Yuan, this is Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, this is a-Yuan," Wei Ying says formally.

"It is good to meet you, a-Yuan," Lan Zhan says seriously.

Yuan, his head shyly buried into his dad's neck, looks up at Lan Wangji at this.

"Hi," he says. "Baba, I get down?"

"Okay, buddy. Are you hungry?"

Yuan shakes his head. Wei Ying puts him down, and he toddles over to his play area and starts ransacking the toy chest.

"He's feeling a bit better, as you can see."

"Mm."

"You're definitely a hero, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying laughs. "Are you hungry? I can buy dinner. As a thanks?"

Lan Wangji looks conflicted. "I have plans," he says after a long pause.

"Oh! Of course! Another time maybe." Wei Ying is kicking himself. Did he just ask his boss to stay for dinner? That's weird, right? That definitely crosses some line. There's probably something about it in the employee handbook, which he definitely didn't read and Lan Wangji definitely did .

"I should be going," Lan Wangji says 

"Right!" Wei Ying says, a bit too loudly. He walks him to the door, babbling the whole way. "Thanks so much. I can't believe you went to all this trouble, but it's really amazing. I'll be back at work tomorrow if I can find someone to watch him, I promise."

"It was not trouble," Lan Wangji says. 

"Still," Wei Ying says, feeling a little overwhelmed. "Thanks. Yuan, say bye to Lan Zhan!"

Yuan breaks away from his toys and walks over, clutching a little stuffed chicken. "Bye, Lan Zhan," he parrots, hiding partially behind Wei Ying's legs.

Wei Ying smiles at him, and then looks up and sees that Lan Zhan is smiling at him too. Wei Ying forgets how to breathe. He has never seen Lan Zhan smile. Throughout four years of school together, of seeing each other nearly every day -- he’d never seen him smile.

“Goodbye, a-Yuan,” Lan Wangji says, and then nods his head in farewell to Wei Ying and walks away.

Chapter Text

It’s not that Wei Ying hadn’t realized back in high school that Lan Wangji was a good person.

Lan Zhan had never been friendly, obviously. Not even just with Wei Ying, whose constant flirting and teasing and general awfulness definitely hadn’t earned him Lan Wangji’s friendship. He hadn’t been friendly with anyone .

But he’d always been good. The kind of upright, well-mannered, generous, smart, young man that schools and parents preened over. 

What Wei Ying hadn’t realized, though, was that Lan Wangji is so unbearably, unabashedly, limitlessly kind . He is so nice . It almost makes Wei Ying’s teeth hurt when he thinks about it. 

It had started with the surprise delivery of medicine for Yuan. But there were small, everyday kindnesses too. A coffee on Wei Ying’s desk every morning when he shows up, somehow made exactly how he likes it -- 4 sugars and a sprinkle of cinnamon, he hadn’t even remembered mentioning that to Lan Zhan. A new, ergonomic keyboard delivered the day after Wei Ying complained about wrist pain. An umbrella placed just inside his cubicle whenever the forecast called for rain. Not to mention the age-appropriate toys and books that keep showing up in little gift bags on his desk for a-Yuan. All of it is just Too Much, and Wei Ying can’t handle it.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, bustling into his office around lunchtime and dropping off a stack of expense reports, “you are spoiling a-Yuan, and, even worse, you’re spoiling me! The little bunny socks are absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s too much! I’m not giving them back, I don’t have the strength, a-Yuan is going to look so goddamn cute in them, but it’s too much!  You’ve gotta let me do something for you. Happy hour, maybe? Not today, I’ve got to pick up a-Yuan, but next week? I can arrange for my friend, Wen Ning, to get him from daycare and watch him for a couple of hours.”

“I do not drink,” Lan Wangji says, not looking up from his work. 

“What, still?” Wei Ying says in horror. “I know you didn’t drink in high school but I thought that was just because you were, you know … too rule-abiding to drink.”

This earns him a look. “I do not drink,” he repeats.

“Alright, I get it. No happy hour. Something else? Is there something else you’d like? Coffee? Cigars? What’s your vice Lan Zhan?”

“I do not have a vice,” he says, neatly stacking the papers and filing them away. 

“Wow, way to rub it in, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, rubbing his nose. “Well, I’ll figure something out. You can’t dodge my gratitude forever! I’m an expert gift giver! Everybody loves my gifts! I once got Jiang Cheng a pet snake, and he said he didn’t like it, but --”

Wei Ying stops. He hasn’t talked about Jiang Cheng in … in a long time. It’s been too painful. He’d been so caught up in the moment, in the familiar delight of teasing Lan Wangji, just a little, that he’d forgotten.

He swallows, plowing on before Lan Wangji can notice and comment on the silence. 

“I’m just saying, Lan Zhan, you better prepare yourself to receive the Best Gift Ever. It’s gonna be such a great gift, you’re going to be ruined for other gifts forever. It’ll be Wei Ying gifts or nothing!”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji says, but Wei Ying thinks he looks a little pleased. He’s not entirely certain, the man’s face is practically inscrutable. But maybe just a little pleased.

In honest fact, Wei Ying has absolutely no idea what to get Lan Wangji. The man is obviously Disgustingly Rich, whereas Wei Wuxian has been living off of store brand cereal, frozen pizzas, and noodle cups for the last 3 years, much to Wen Qing’s consternation. 

It would be easier, Wei Ying thinks, if he’d spent more time in high school actually getting to know Lan Wangji rather than just tormenting him. All he knows about the man is that he’s rich, beautiful, and kind. Not exactly something you can pop into google to find gift lists. 

Which, of course, he’d tried. But he just can’t imagine Lan Wangji as the type of man who would appreciate glittery picture frames or mugs with his name on them. 

Never one to give up on an important mission, Wei Ying has tried to pry for some information at work. Subtly. But Work Lan Wangji is an uncrackable safe. Wei Ying has tried, and failed, to get him to loosen up, talk about himself a bit. In the name of a pleasant work environment. But Lan Wangji is deplorably focused on work. 

As it stands, Wei Ying doesn’t have too much free time himself to lament this. There is more work to do every day now that Lan Wangji has settled in. Not the shitty grunt work he’d been expected to do as the office underling, either. Real work. Helping with reports, digging through financial records and data to produce useful insights and projections for upcoming quarters, helping brainstorm ways to trim the fat from the budget, reinvesting the money in areas that would make employees happier. Lan Wangji trusts him, and hears out even his wildest ideas with patience and sincerity. Wei Ying doesnt’t want to abuse that trust, so he works hard. He might not be able to provide much by way of organization and time management -- typical PA duties -- given that Lan Wangji is the most neurotically organized human to live and Wei Ying is … Wei Ying. But ideas he can do.

It is his unsuccessful data mining in the office, though, that leads him to texting Lan Wangji over the weekend. He is hopeful that he may be able to get some answers when Lan Wangji is off the clock.

lan zhan quick!
name 3 of ur favorite things!

Okay, not his finest work. But he’s not really going for subtle here anymore. He feels that a head-on approach might be best for Lan Wangji.

The message is marked as “seen” almost instantly. Wei Ying waits for the response as he watches Yuan playing in the park, but it is nearly half an hour later before his phone chimes again.

classical music
tea
rabbits 

Wei Ying stares at his phone, before giving a little groan of laughter. “Baba?” Yuan walks over to him. “Are you sad?”

“No, buddy!” Wei Ying laughs. “Hey, do you like bunnies? Do you want to go look at bunnies later?”

“Yeah!” Yuan yells, bouncing in place in excitement. “I like bunnies!”

“You’re not the only one,” Wei Ying smiles.

--------

The rescue is a bit of a long drive, about an hour out of town. Yuan is prattling in the back seat about bunnies, about how he’s going to play with them, about how the bunnies are as big as the sky, about how he’s going to ride one of the bunnies -- by the time they arrive, there’s a whole complex, bunny-centric mythology spun out by Yuan. Quite frankly, Wei Ying thinks he might be on to something. 

“Wei Ying!” comes a happy cry as he unloads Yuan from his car seat in the back. A tall young man is hurrying up to him, smiling broadly. Wei Ying smiles back, just as happy.

“Wen Ning! It’s good to see you! How’re you doing? Feeling good?”

“I’m doing well,” Wen Ning says, although he looks a little pale. “Hi, a-Yuan.”

“Hi, gege,” Yuan says, flashing his tiny toothed smile at him. 

“You want to see the bunnies?” Wen Ning asks, and Yuan nods and reaches out for him with grabby hands. Wei Ying transfers him over to Wen Ning, but keeps an eye on him to make certain he doesn’t get too tired. The kid is getting big, and it’s no small feat lugging him around these days. But Wen Ning, despite his pallor, does seem to be doing well, which is a relief. His health has always been fragile, but the outdoors and country air seem to be sitting well with him.  

“Any new acquisitions?” Wei Ying asks, as Wen Ning leads them to the back of the farmhouse, where the rabbits’ area is sectioned off with chicken wire, lined with hutches they can hop in and out of at will. 

“We just rescued a donkey,” Wen Ning says. “She’s a handful. Underfed, but, honestly, I don’t know if that’s her previous owner’s fault or her own. I’ve never met such a picky eater.”

Wei Ying laughs. “You’ll have to introduce me to her. She sounds feisty. I like feisty!”

Wen Ning has been running the animal rescue for the last year, with Wen Qing’s financial support. She’s off making bank as the youngest Head of Surgery ever at some prestigious hospital in New York. Wen Ning had lived in the city with her for a while, but had moved back after just a few months. The city life -- the pollution, the noise, the stress -- it hadn’t been good for him. Wen Qing had been prepared to move back with him, but Wei Ying and Wen Ning had both objected. She had a good thing going. Neither of them wanted her to give it up. In the end, Wei Ying had agreed to look over Wen Ning, and Wen Ning had agreed to daily phone calls. Appeased, if not entirely satisfied, Wen Qing had agreed. Not long after, she had helped him buy the farm he runs his rescue out of, and is funding his classes to become a veterinary technician. 

“So, why the sudden interest in the rabbits?” Wen Ning asks, as Yuan attempts to feed a handful of grass to a pair of snowy white bunnies through the fencing. “You know I won’t sell them to you as food.”

Wei Ying laughs, shaking his head. “Rabbit stew is delicious! But no, I’m not looking for food. I was actually wondering -- can I adopt a couple of them?”

--------

Wei Ying arrives at the office on Monday, clutching a tray of to-go cups, with a giddy feeling. He’s 5 minutes early, which is so out of the ordinary that several of his coworkers comment on it. He thinks that this is going a little overboard -- it’s not like he’s late every day or anything. Anything within 15 minutes of start time counts as on time, as any sane person knows.

He is not surprised to find Lan Wangji is already at his desk, well into his work for the day. Wei Ying wonders what time the man arrives at the office. He decides that it must be some absolutely disgusting hour, and that he prefers not to know.

“Lan Zhan!” he says brightly, waltzing into the office and brandishing the tray of drinks at him. “Good morning! Pick your poison!”

Lan Wangji looks at him and the drinks he is perilously waving around. “What is it?” he asks.

“Tea!” Wei Ying says. “I picked them up on the way here. I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got a variety. There’s oolong, green tea, white tea, and chamomile. I literally could not tell you the difference, it’s all just hot leaf water to me.”

Lan Wangji looks stunned. It’s hard to tell, he doesn’t really look any different, but Wei Ying is certain his eyes are ever-so-slightly wider than usual. “Thank you,” he says.

Wei Ying walks over and puts the tray of drinks down on his desk. “And that’s not all!” he says. “Close your eyes!”

Lan Wangji blinks at him.

“Lan Zhaaaan,” Wei Ying whines, “do it! It’s a surprise! Do it for me!”

To Wei Ying’s slight surprise, Lan Wangji does. Wei Ying notices how long his eyelashes are against his cheeks. He stares for a moment, relishing the opportunity to just look at Lan Zhan up close without anyone seeing what a creep he’s being. He pushes down at sigh at just how goddamn beautiful he is, how unfair it is for someone to be so beautiful, and swings off his backpack, unzipping it and plopping his gift onto the desk in front of Lan Zhan. 

“Okay, open!”

Lan Wangji opens his eyes and stares at the thick envelope in front of him. “What is this?”

“You’ve got to open it, Lan Zhan. That’s how gifts work.”

Lan Wangji reaches out and takes the envelope, carefully opening it and pulling out a card, a certificate, and a handful of glossy photos of a pair of bunnies -- one black with a white stripe down its nose, the other snowy white with black ears. He reads the card, his eyes going wide, and then looks at the certificate of adoption before looking back at Wei Ying.

“Surprise!” Wei Ying says. “You are now the proud adoptive father of two beautiful bouncing baby bunnies! My friend, Wen Ning, runs an animal rescue upstate. He’ll send you photos, updates on how they’re doing, and you’re free to visit them whenever you want! You get to name them, too, although you should know that a-Yuan was very insistent that the black one is called ‘Bunbun’, and you might break his heart if you don’t go with it--”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying stops talking. This is the first time Lan Zhan has ever called him his name. It is the first time he has ever heard his name sound like that , and it makes his stomach somersault. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Wei Ying says. It comes out a little strange, as his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth. “Oh, hang on!” He reaches out and grabs the envelope, peeking inside. “There they are!” He tips it upside, and two tickets slip out onto the desk. “Symphony tickets!”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth as though to say something, but then closes it again, shaking his head.

“Speechless? I know. I told you, I’m an amazing gift giver. One of the many talents that I have to offer to you as your PA! Feel free to put me on the case! Family! Friends! Girlfriends! I’ve got you covered! You can trust me with it, Lan Zhan.”

--------

OMG
WEI YING
WHAT DID YOU DO

most ppl start with a “hello” niexiong
and whatever it is
i didnt do it

i had to drop off some reports to lan wangji today
and he was smiling
S M I L I N G  
i almost ran out of the room
it was the spookiest shit ive ever seen

what r u talking about
lan zhan has a great smile

NKLASDFHLFK;AS;LKDJ
WEI WUXIAN
IS LAN WANGJI
SMILING AT YOU

no
not at me
he just smiles sometimes

omfg
its finally happening
if im not in the wedding im disowning you

im used to it

no
NO
U DONT GET TO GUILT TRIP ME WITH UR SAD SHIT RIGHT NOW
HAPPY HOUR
I DEMAND HAPPY HOUR

ive gotta pick up ayuan after work

god ur such a dad
find the time weixiong
i need   d e t a i l s

--------

A couple days later, Wei Wuxian finds himself sitting at a bar with Nie Huaisang. Wen Ning has texted him that he picked up Yuan from daycare without issue, and they’re now back home and playing dinosaurs. Wei Ying smiles at that, and texts him back.

dont let him be a raptor
he gets bitey when he does the raptor

“Alright,” Nie Huaisang says, snapping his fingers obnoxiously under Wei Ying’s nose. “Spill. What is going on with you and Lan Wangji?”

“Nothing,” Wei Ying says, pushing his friend’s hand away as he pockets his phone. He takes a sip of his drink. “I told you that already. He’s just my boss.”

“Wei-ford Brangeline Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang huffs at him, “how dare you lie to me.”

“First of all, not my name,” Wei Ying says, “second, I’m not lying. We just work together. He’s my boss. There’s nothing happening.”

Nie Huaisang huffs, and flags the bartender over. “Two shots, whiskey. The good kind.”

“Nie-xiong,” Wei Ying says, his tone reprimanding, “it’s a Thursday. I have to go home and raise a toddler.”

“Ah ah ah! Your kid is very cute, but I don’t want to hear it tonight. Tonight, you are not a dad! Tonight you are my very sexually repressed friend who is going to tell me what exactly is going on with his mouth-wateringly hot boss. I will ply you with alcohol until I get answers.”

“There aren’t any answers to get,” Wei Ying mumbles, but he picks up the shot, clinks glasses with Nie Huaisang, and throws it back. 

“That’s not what the office gossip says,” his friend flutters his eyelashes at him. 

“What?” Wei Ying chokes, his stomach turning. He doesn’t think it’s the whiskey.

“Word around the office is that Lan Wangji went to the mat for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Wei Ying thinks he might be sick. It’s not that idea that there’s office gossip about him -- of course there’s office gossip about him. There’s always gossip about him. He’s a formerly homeless orphan who got adopted by a wealthy family and then was expelled from a posh private school in a scandal and was publicly disowned. He’s a college dropout, a 21-year-old unwed father, and, not to put too fine a point on it, an malnourished, sleep-deprived gremlin of chaos. 

What he can’t stomach is that there’s gossip about Lan Wangji just because he got too close to chaos-gremlin Wei Wuxian. Perfect, kind, generous, beautiful, proper Lan Wangji getting tarred by Wei Ying’s brush. 

“You know how Jin Zixun has been literally gunning for you since, maybe, day one?”

Wei Ying nods. Literally everyone knows it. The man used to scream it at the top of his lungs daily, usually right up in Wei Ying’s face.

“Well. He was kicking up a fucking storm in a manager’s meeting about you. And Lan Wangji -- this was, like, his second day -- let him finish his fucking rant and then just sort of … destroyed him.”

Wei Ying’s stomach is no longer flipping around. It has absolutely vacated his body. “What did he say?”

“I don’t know the details,” Nie Huaisang says, waving his hand dismissively. “But the gist was that, from how it sounded, Jin Zixun had assigned all his work to you and now had the nerve to start bitching about it. He may have insinuated that maybe Jin Zixun was the one who was redundant.”

“Oh my god,” Wei Ying says, his voice as small as an ant. 

“I know ,” Nie Huaisang says deliciously. “Then a few days later, he strong-arms Jin Guangshan into reassigning you to be his personal assistant! Wei-xiong, finance has never been more interesting . And it doesn’t hurt that you’re literally the only person Lan Wangji seems to like. ”

“What are you talking about? Lan Wangji doesn’t like me!” Wei Ying clings to it like a raft in a stormy sea. This is all a huge mistake. Lan Wangji barely tolerates Wei Ying -- he’s just a nice person! The kind of guy who likes to take care of people, who gives them little gifts, who asks about their kid, who remembers things like how they take their coffee, who hand delivers medicine without being asked because they’re worried --

Wei Ying can feel himself getting … hopeful? Why is he hopeful? He doesn’t even like Lan Wangji! Not like that! That’s all in the past. It was just some schoolboy crush on a pretty face. 

Nie Huaisang is watching him and whatever his face is doing with a shit-eating grin. Wei Ying glares at him. “You are so fucking wrong about this,” he says, and then flags down the bartender. “Another round of shots!”

--------

“Wei Ying, you dumbass, I don’t know your fucking address. Where do you live?”

The room is spinning. Wei Ying blinks open his eyes and everything is sideways. His face feels sticky, and someone’s hand is in his pocket.

“Cut it out,” he mumbles thickly.

“I’m calling someone to come get you, because you can’t stay here, and I can not take you home. Da-ge will lose his mind, and I am not sober enough to deal with his temper right now.”

Wei Ying peels himself off the bar -- quite literally, he thinks he may have left half his face skin behind. 

“I can walk home,” he announces, attempting to snatch his phone back from Nie Huaisang and nearly toppling to the floor from his barstool. 

“No, you can’t,” Nie Huaisang says. “Who do I need to call? Who can come get you?”

“Nobody,” Wei Ying hiccups. He rests his forehead on the bar. This is better. The room isn’t nearly so tippy this way. “Nobody likes me but you, Nie-xiong. Lan Wangji is just nice. You all think it means something, but he’s just nice . He just brought the medicine because a-Yuan was sick. Because he’s nice .”

“Whoa whoa whoa, focus, Wei-xiong.” There’s a hand on his shoulder, pulling him up until he’s facing Nie Huaisang. “Lan Wangji brought Yuan medicine? Like, to your home? He knows where you live?”

“HR told him,” Wei Ying says. “I don’t think they’re supposed to do that…”

“I do not give any shits right now,” Nie Huaisang says. Wei Ying flops back to the bartop, vaguely aware of Nie Huaisang dialing his phone and speaking to someone in urgent tones.

“Wei-xiong. Wei-xiong. Wei Ying .” He’s being shaken. His insides slosh unpleasantly and he groans. “I’ve got to get home before midnight or da-ge will kill me. It’s his house and he’s fucking strict about curfew, no matter how old I am. You wait here. Do not walk home. Someone’s coming to get you. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” Wei Ying mumbles, and waves a hand at his friend. “Go, go.”

Wei Ying hasn’t been this drunk in a long time. In about 2 years, actually. Raising a baby as a single parent really cuts into one’s social drinking. He hadn’t intended to get this drunk tonight. But something had … upset him. He can’t remember what it was. Something about the office, something Nie Huaisang had said about the office, about Lan Wangji …

Wei Ying sits up suddenly. Time is doing that weird thing where he isn’t sure if he’s been sitting here alone for 5 minutes or an hour. Nie Huaisang told him to wait, but that’s stupid. He could be waiting here all night. He has a baby to get home to. He’s not that far, it’s only a couple of miles. 

He shrugs on his jacket, drops some money on the bar -- he can’t remember if he paid already, but he hopes it’s enough -- and walks out into the night. 

It’s cool outside. Not cold, but one of those cool, late summer nights that makes you want to lay out under a blanket and look for shooting stars. He used to do that, when he was younger, with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli. They’d go camping in their backyard, and star gaze. Jiang Yanli would point out constellations, and Wei Ying would make up new ones, weaving stupid stories about them, always starring three siblings going on adventures. Jiang Cheng would huff about it, call it childish, but then he’d make demands about what kind of weapons his character used or what kind of animal he could turn into. 

He misses them. He misses them so much, it’s like somebody has reached inside him and yanked out the brightest part of him and won’t give it back. He should email a-jie. She told him to, said she wanted to talk to him still. Said she didn’t hate him, didn’t blame him. But he can’t. He’d messaged her once. Right after Yuan had showed up, begging for help. He’d felt like scum, going to his jiejie, when he knew the risk, knew what would happen if Madam Yu found out …

No. He won’t email her. It’s better this way. It’s better if he’s just out of their lives completely. Madam Yu doesn’t want him there, has never wanted him there. He’s caused nothing but problems between her and Uncle Fengmian. Jiang Cheng doesn’t want him there either, doesn’t want to ever see him again.

Wei Ying looks up at the sky, but it’s a dark gray sheet. It’s too bright in the city, the stars washed out. He imagines Jiang Yanli’s voice next to him, her tinkling laugh, Jiang Cheng’s grumpy huff on the other side. He stumbles, disoriented from looking up, falling against a mailbox.

“Wei Ying?”

Somebody is holding him, an arm tight around his shoulder, another hand around his waist. “That’s me!” he laughs, but his voice sounds strained. It doesn’t sound like a laugh at all. 

“Wei Ying, can you walk?”

“I can do a lot of things!” he says, and attempts to take a step to demonstrate, but immediately loses his footing and is spared from falling on his face only by the arms that are holding him. “Oops.”

“I am going to take you home,” and the next moment Wei Ying feels himself leave the ground. Is he falling? If he is, he must’ve been very high up, because he hasn’t hit the ground yet. It takes his brain a moment to catch up and process that he is being carried. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, trying to focus his eyes. 

“I am going to drive you home.”

“Okay,” Wei Ying says. His neck feels floppy, and he leans his head against something firm and warm as his bones give out. “Okay. I have a baby. I gotta get home to the baby.”

He’s being placed into the front seat of a car, a little awkwardly, and hands are reaching across him and buckling him in. He should say something, probably. He realizes, on the periphery of his consciousness, that he shouldn’t be getting into cars with people when he’s drunk. 

The driver’s door opens, and he blinks blearily at the person getting in.

“Oh, Lan Zhan, it’s you,” he says, and laughs, his head falling against the window with a thunk. “That’s good. I’m glad it’s you.”

Lan Zhan makes a noise -- one of those humming sounds he makes when he doesn’t want to talk. Wei Ying, suddenly feeling slightly more sober, realizes that he shouldn’t be telling Lan Zhan that he’s glad to see him, especially when he’s completely shit-faced and people are already gossiping. Gossiping about him and Lan Zhan, saying things about them, Nie Huaisang saying that Lan Zhan likes him. Maybe not like that, definitely not like that.

“I don’t like you, you know,” Wei Ying says emphatically, wanting to be certain that Lan Zhan understands that he doesn’t need to worry about Wei Ying and Wei Ying’s feelings, wanting Lan Zhan to know that the office gossip is meaningless, that Wei Ying knows it’s meaningless. It's important, very important that Lan Zhan knows this. He can't quite remember why, his thoughts are slippery, falling through the cracks of his hands as he tries to grab them. “It was just a … a schoolboy crush. I liked you so much, you were so pretty. You are so pretty. But you don’t have to worry about me, Lan Zhan. I don’t like you, I … I promise.”

He wants to look at Lan Zhan, to see his face, make sure he understands him. But he finds he can’t open his eyes. When he tries, his vision is swimming, tears spilling out, and the knowledge that he is crying makes the sadness grip like a fist around his heart.

So, he doesn’t look at Lan Zhan.

He closes his eyes and lets the world fade away.

Chapter Text

The first thing Wei Ying notices when he wakes up is that his tongue tastes and feels like he’s spent the night licking a dog. Which is an unpleasant thought for many reasons.

The second is that his head is either actually split open, or he has the worst hangover headache in memory.

The third is that he is in his bed and he has no earthly idea how he got there.

He moans and tries to sit up. His head is throbbing, knives of light stabbing in through his eyes. Sunlight is pouring in through the windows.

The fourth thing is that it is a Friday and Wei Ying is absolutely late for work.

“Shiiiiiit,” he groans, and grabs blindly for his phone on the bedside table. He risks prying one eye open to check.

It is 1:13pm.

“Fuuuuuck.”

“Fuck!” a delighted voice echoes. 

“No, a-Yuan, don’t say that,” Wen Ning admonishes.

“Wen Ning,” Wei Ying says, “I … oh god, I’ll apologize soon I promise but I need water and aspirin and so much bacon.”

20 minutes later, he feels himself slowly returning to the land of the living as he eats his way through a pack of bacon he cooked in the microwave and sips at his third mug of coffee.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to Wen Ning for what is probably the dozenth time. “I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember anything, but I did not mean to get that drunk. Are you okay? Was everything okay here?”

“We’re fine,” Wen Ning says, smiling kindly like this isn’t the absolute shittiest thing Wei Ying has ever done to him. “I was a bit worried last night when you were so late, but Lan Wangji got you home safely, so --”

Wei Ying chokes and spits out his coffee. Like an actual, real life spit-take. He turns a startled look on his friend, hoping desperately, desperately , that he’s misheard. “Who? Who got me home?”

“La- Lan Wangji,” Wen Ning stammers.

Wei Ying can’t speak. His soul has fled his body, deemed it unsuitable for continued occupation. He’ll find another one, a different body, one no one will recognize, live out the rest of his life as a new person who never has to face Lan Wangji again --

“Baba! I made you eggs!” Yuan is holding out a small toy plate and fork to him. It is empty, of course, but Yuan is looking very serious about the whole thing. 

Right. He can’t flee his body in search of a new one. He’s got Yuan to take care of. Guess he’ll just have to stay in this shitty body with his shitty ruined life, because his son needs him. “Thanks, Yuan-er! Baba loves eggs!” He mimes eating the eggs, Cookie Monster style, to Yuan’s peals of laughter.

“Is everything okay?” Wen Ning asks, quietly, after Yuan has walked back to his little toy kitchen to cook more food.

Wei Ying sighs. Wen Ning is giving him that look . The look that makes Wei Ying’s insides shrivel up, because no one should ever be able to look that worried. Especially not someone as sweet as Wen Ning. “It’s fine,” Wei Ying says. “It’s just … it’s embarrassing. I need to call in to work. Can you stay a little longer? Is that okay?”

“Of course!” Wen Ning says, clearly just happy to be doing anything to help. It doesn’t make Wei Ying feel any better, but he smiles at him before walking into his bedroom and closing the door.

He looks at his phone. 7 missed texts. 3 missed calls. 

Steeling himself for the worst, he unlocks the screen.

4 of the texts are from Wen Ning, sent around midnight, asking where he is. As are all of the missed calls. Wei Ying feels a stab of guilt. He really had worried him. Wen Qing is going to flay him when she finds out.

3 of the texts are from Lan Wangji. He swallows and clicks.

Do not worry about coming in to work today.
I have reassigned your work.
There is a container of congee in the fridge.

He stares at the messages and feels sick. Maybe the bacon had been a bad idea. He walks back out into the kitchen and opens the fridge and notices, this time, a blue tupperware container. He takes it out and pops the lid. Congee.

He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. This is so like Lan Zhan. He fires Wei Ying, because of course he fires Wei Ying. Wei Ying got blackout drunk on a worknight and then just didn’t show up to the office the next day. On top of which, somehow his boss, of all people, had been enlisted to escort his drunk ass home. It’s so inappropriate, so irresponsible. Someone like Lan Zhan could never tolerate, could never have someone like that working for him.

So, of course, he’s fired. And Lan Zhan delivers the message in the kindest way: directly and paired with a homemade hangover cure that he must’ve brought with him to pick up his drunk employee.

Lan Zhan is really too much.

i understand
ill be in on monday to pick up my stuff
im sorry
for everything
thank you for taking care of me

He’s going to have to find a new job. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it. He only had this job because of a-jie. He can’t ask her again. And now, he’s going to have this stain on his record. Any future employer will call his previous workplace and ask what happened, and they’ll tell them. Tell them how Wei Ying got shitfaced, and roped a good man, his boss, into his drama.

21 years old. No degree. A handful of retail jobs, and one corporate gig that he got fired from. And a mortgage to pay. And a baby to care for. 

His phone rings. He looks and sees that Lan Wangji is calling him. He considers letting it go to voicemail. He doesn’t know if he can do this right now, whatever this is.

But he owes it to Lan Wangji to answer, after last night, after all of it. 

“Hello?”

“Wei Ying. What do you mean you’ll pick up your stuff? Is there something you need?”

“Oh. Um, well, I thought I’d just clear out my desk. But, ah -- it’s not too important. If you’d prefer I not come back --”

He swallows hard. He’s not going to cry, and he’s not going to allow it to sound like he’s crying. This is his fault, and he’ll take his lumps. If Lan Wangji doesn’t want him back in the office, doesn’t want him there to even clear out his stuff, then that’s fine. He deserves it.

“I do not understand.”

Wei Ying isn’t sure what he doesn’t understand. Now that he’s told himself he can’t get sad, that he isn’t allowed to cry, he can feel himself starting to get angry instead.

“It’s not complicated, Lan Zhan,” he says, and he distantly regrets his snappish tone already, but he can’t stop. “If you don’t want me back in the building now that I’m fired, I’ll have someone clear out my desk. I’ll get Nie Huaisang to do it. He owes me after--”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji interrupts, his voice low and firm. Wei Ying stops talking. “You are not fired.”

That takes him off guard. “I’m not -- what?”

“You are not fired.”

“But -- your text -- you said -- I thought --” Wei Ying stops and starts again. “You told me not to bother coming in. That you reassigned my work.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again, and the name is like fingers brushing along his arms. “You are not fired. You did not need to come in today, as I thought you would not feel well. I had your assignments taken care of for the day so you would not worry.”

“Oh.”

Silence draws out long between them as Wei Ying thinks this over. “But why?” he asks at last.

“Why?”

“Why did you help me get home? Why did you give me the day off? Why are you being so … so nice to me?”

More silence. Longer this time. Wei Ying has the sensation of his heart beating in his throat. “I will see you on Monday, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and then the line goes dead.

--------

Things are different when Wei Ying returns to work the next week. It isn’t anything concrete, he can’t point to any one thing as being different. But, things are different.

There’s still coffee waiting for him on his desk in the morning. 

Lan Wangji still asks his opinions and listens to his ideas.

But the interactions are tense. There’s a strained air that sits between them.

Nie Huaisang comes to Wei Ying’s cubicle to steal him for lunch on Friday. Wei Ying hasn’t exactly forgiven him for what happened during happy hour -- which was definitely, at least partially Nie Huaisang’s fault, he’s pretty sure -- but he isn’t going to turn down a free apology lunch.

“Ready to go, Romeo?” Nie Huaisang asks, draping his arms over the cubicle wall and fluttering his fan at him.

Wei Ying hisses at him, just as Lan Wangji walks out of his office, jacket hung over one arm. He looks at the pair of them.

“Grabbing lunch, Lan Zhan?”

“Yes.”

“Have a good meal!” Wei Ying smiles brightly, even as his insides writhe at the stiltedness of it all.

Lan Wangji merely nods at him, then at Nie Huaisang, and walks away. Nie Huaisang watches him walk away, blatantly, until Wei Ying stands and loudly drops his backpack on his desk. 

“Mm, doing okay, sweety?”

“Shut up. Shut all the way up right now.”

--------

Wei Ying sits across the table from Nie Huaisang, who is picking at a wilted salad with a disgusted look on his face, and takes a bite of his burger. His friend had wanted to go somewhere to get “something healthy that isn’t going to congeal in my arteries for then next 6 decades”, but Wei Ying, partially out of pigheadedness and partially out of his personal objection to vegetables, had insisted on the greasy burger joint around the corner. It was his apology lunch, after all. Nie Huaisang would just have to deal with it.

“So are you ever gonna talk to me again, or are you just gonna glare at me as you eat your way into an early grave?”

By way of answer, Wei Ying narrows his eyes further and takes another bite of his burger.

“Was it really all that bad, Wei-xiong?”

Wei Ying swallows, and considers not answering. But sitting through an entire lunch in silence actually sounds pretty awful, so he relents. “Yes. Yes, it was that bad! You called my boss to pick me up from a bar! In the middle of the night! After getting me blackout drunk!”

“In fairness, you did just fine getting yourself blackout drunk.”

“Well you started it,” Wei Ying mutters darkly. Given, he doesn’t strictly remember what happened. But he’s pretty certain on this point. 

“Was he mad?” Nie Huaisang asks, giving up on his salad.

“Of course! I mean, I don’t know. Probably. Wouldn’t you be?”

“Would I be mad if my crush drunk dialed me in the middle of the night and asked me to come get them?” Nie Huaisang asks, with a sly smile. “I don’t know. Depends on what happened next. I mean, probably. But I’m selfish and need my beauty sleep. Lan Wangji seems the type who likes to be helpful , you know?”

“Stop it. Stop it right now,” Wei Ying jabs a ketchup-covered finger at him. “Lan Zhani does not have a crush on me. Are you crazy? Look at him. Look at me -- ”

“I am looking --”

“-- and do not spread the rumor around the office. Also, Lan Zhan being the helpful type makes all of this so much worse! He’s so nice, and I’m so me -- he’s going to get roped in to my shit constantly if he feels obligated to help every time I make a mess. And I’m literally a walking mess, Nie-xiong.”

“I don’t know that he minds.”

“But he should!” Wei Ying yells. A man sitting at the table next to him shoots him a dirty look. Wei Ying huffs and puts his head in his hands.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says, surprisingly gentle, “you’ve got to stop doing this. Sometimes people want to help you. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Says the man whose world isn’t crashing down around his ears.”

“Talk to Lan Wangji, if you’re worried.”

“No. That’s weird and horrible.”

Nie Huaisang sighs, and his acerbic tone is back. “Have it your way. You’ve depleted the empathetic coins in your friendship account. There is only bitchy Huaisang left.”

“Good,” Wei Ying says. 

--------

Wei Ying returns from lunch and, despite shutting Nie Huaisang down, can’t stop thinking that maybe he should talk to Lan Wangji.

He’s thinking about it as he brings Lan Wangji his afternoon tea.

He’s thinking about it as he delivers the sales departments’ stack of receipts for the upcoming conference.

He’s thinking about it as he is packing up his desk, staring at the door of Lan Wangji’s office. Should he just go home? Should he say something? What even would he say? ‘Hey, Lan Zhan, thanks for helping me the other night. Also, you should know that I’m a fucking disaster 24/7, so you probably shouldn’t get in the habit of helping me, haha, I’ll end up getting the wrong idea --’

Lan Wangji looks up from his work and locks eyes with Wei Ying through the office window. Wei Ying realizes he has been staring, and jumps as he spins away and finishes packing up his backpack to head home.

“Wei Ying?”

Lan Wangji is standing in the doorway of his office, looking at him. Wei Ying’s face feels hot. He takes a deep breath before turning around.

“Lan Zhan! I’m just heading out for the day, if that’s okay? Gotta go grab a-Yuan. Anything you need before I leave?”

There’s a nearly microscopic line between Lan Wangji’s eyebrows. This means he’s concerned, Wei Ying is pretty sure. Which is the opposite of what he wants. ‘Stop worrying about me!’ he wants to scream. ‘I’m not worth it! It’s too much!’

“Stop worrying about me, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying chirps. Oh. Shit. Apparently his filter is completely worn out. That’s dangerous. He rushes onward, wanting to get this conversation over with quickly. “I mean, I’m fine! You don’t have to worry about me, that’s my job. I’m your PA! Anyway, I gotta head out. See you tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Right!” Wei Ying is definitely starting to sound a little hysterical now. He’s got to get out of here. “Saturday! Haha, time really got away from me! Any plans this weekend, Lan Zhan?” No no, that sounds like he’s trying to ask Lan Zhan out or something. “A-Yuan has been begging me to go visit the bunnies again. He’s developed a bit of bunny madness! They’ve overtaken dogs as his favorite animal, thank god. I’ve been trying to break him of the dog-fixation for months. We’re headed up to Wen Ning’s rescue this weekend to visit. Have you been yet to see your bunnies?”

“I have not.”

“That’s a shame! You should go while the weather’s still nice! They’re saying there’s going to be a cold snap next week, this might be the last nice weekend we get for a while.”

“...I do not have plans tomorrow.”

Wei Ying’s rambling comes to a screeching halt as his brain wraps around this sentence and attempts to process it. “Do you … want to come with us to visit the bunnies?”

It’s a dangerous question. Presumptuous. Probably pushing things too far. He should laugh, take it back. Why would Lan Wangji want to spend his weekend with Wei Ying and his kid?

“I would like that.”

This does nothing to help Wei Ying’s brain kick back into gear. He blinks. “You would?”

Lan Wangji is looking somewhere over Wei Ying’s head, standing stiffly in that way he does, his arms clasped behind his back. He looks … nervous. That can’t be right. 

“Well if you want to come, you’re definitely welcome. A man should meet his bunnies,” Wei Ying tries a smile, and Lan Wangji looks at him and nods. “Great! We can meet at my place and drive up together?”

Wei Ying’s heart is pounding. ‘Shut up ,’ he hisses at it in his head. His heart is so stupid. His heart thinks that this is … that this is something , when it definitely isn’t anything . He’s just going to spend Saturday with God-on-Earth Lan Wangji. Spend hours with him in the car, soaking in that soft, but dizzying aroma of sandalwood and tea that follows him around. Pet bunnies with him. Maybe even see him smile --

“Please send me the details,” Lan Wangji says.

“Sure thing!” Wei Ying says, in a totally-normal voice before he turns and definitely-doesn’t flee the building.

--------

we’re heading up to the farm at 1
its about an hr away
is that ok?

Yes.
I will arrive at your place at 12:45pm.

kk
see u then!
\ (^◡^) /

Wei Ying looks at his phone and wonders, for possibly the millionth time, what is wrong with him that he’s starting sending cutesie emojis to his boss . 

He’s staring at the clock as the minutes tick down toward 12:45. He and Yuan are dressed and ready. Yuan is in his cutest outfit -- a tiny pair of jeans, a black polo, and a red cardigan with a little bunny embroidered over the chest pocket. He looks like a hipster in miniature. Wei Ying fights the urge to style his fluffy hair into a little pompadour, remembering that he has been advised, on more than one occasion, that he is the regrettable owner of a too-much gene that needs to be reeled in.

He’s loath to admit it, but Wei Ying himself put an embarrassing amount of effort into his own outfit, considering he’d ended up in the same jeans he wears every weekend. He is wearing one of his nicer shirts though -- not a work shirt, he refuses to wear button-ups outside of the office, but he has dug up a long-sleeved black turtleneck that doesn’t even have any holes. The fact that it fits him well, in a thin, clinging way that shows his poorly tended body in its best light, is a coincidence. A mere afterthought, which truly hadn’t even occurred to him. 

Yuan is sitting on the floor, playing with his chicken stuffie, having a conversation that is part baby babble and part … disturbing. “Mr. Chicken eats pancakes. I like pancakes. I eat chicken pancakes.”

Wei Ying wonders if he should, maybe, refrain from making so many jokes about eating the bunnies in Yuan’s presence, if he’s now regaling his chicken friend with stories about how he’s going to eat him. It seems like this is probably a bad thing. 

The doorbell rings, and Wei Ying jumps to his feet. “He’s here!”

“He’s here!” Yuan repeats, looking excited. Of course, he has no idea who is actually here or why they’re both excited about it, but Wei Ying appreciates the enthusiasm nonetheless. He scoops Yuan up, walks over, and opens the door.

“Hi, Lan Zhan!” he says, his smile so big it almost hurts.

“He’s here!” Yuan yells again.

Lan Zhan’s eyes are smiling. It’s just a tiny crinkle in the corners, and it makes Wei Ying feel loose and boneless. Lan Zhan is, of course, looking devastating . He always looks devastating, but Wei Ying hasn’t had the chance to see him looking devastating in casual attire. Not that he remembers, anyway. Lan Zhan is wearing a pair of tan slacks, tailored just so to accentuate his long legs, and a powder blue cable knit sweater that does funny things to Wei Ying’s skin, so it feels all tingly and hot in the small of his back, the crooks of his elbows, the shell of his ear.

“Hello,” Lan Zhan says, in his rich, soft voice. Wei Ying must not turn into a puddle. He’s holding a baby.

“Come in!” Wei Ying says. “I’ll just finish grabbing a few of a-Yuan’s things -- trust me, you do not want to see the butterball if we have insufficient snackage. Right, a-Yuan?”

“Snacks!” Yuan cries, following the conversation a little more closely than Wei Ying had suspected. He should’ve figured, though. Yuan is laser-focused when it comes to snacks.

“I’m gonna put you down, okay? Why don’t you show gege here your toys?”

“Okay!” Yuan says. Wei Ying lets him down, and Yuan reaches out his little hand to Lan Wangji. Wei Ying notices that his hand is, somehow, inexplicably, very sticky looking. 

“Oh, hold on,” he says, trying to intercept, but Lan Zhan has already reached down, stooping over to take Yuan’s hand in his large one, allowing himself to be pulled over to the toys. Yuan babbles at him. Something about how bunnies hop, and frogs hop, and frogs are not bunnies. Lan Zhan nods and says, “Mm,” in a way that makes Wei Ying’s heart squeeze, before he remembers he’s supposed to be doing something.

Snacks packed, along with an emergency supply of pull-ups, a change of clothes, and some activities for the drive up, they prepare to load up the car and head out.

“Alright!” he calls. “Everybody ready?”

“We are ready,” Lan Wangji says, standing and picking up Yuan. The “we” sounds particularly beautiful when he says it, Wei Ying thinks.

“What about you, Yuan-er? All ready?”

Yuan looks at Lan Wangji, then turns to Wei Ying and says, his face very serious, “We are ready.”

It is everything Wei Ying can do not to throw himself to the floor and laugh himself to pieces. “Holy shit, he’s imprinted on you,” he says without thinking.

“Holy shit,” Yuan repeats. Because, of course he does. Lan Wangji scowls a little at Wei Ying in a ‘do not swear in front of the baby’ way, and Wei Ying has the good sense to look sheepish about it.

“Yuan, those are bad words. Remember what we say about bad words?”

“Not until I’m this many!” he holds out his hands with 6 fingers sticking up.

“That’s right!” Wei Ying says. Lan Wangji doesn’t look satisfied, but clearly chooses not to argue.

They load up Lan Wangji’s car, buckling the car seat into the back, Wei Ying brushing a few stale fries out of the creases. Wei Ying had intended to be the one to drive them up, but Lan Wangji had looked at his 1992 Saturn and had, tactfully, suggested that he should drive instead. Truthfully, Wei Ying wasn’t even sure Lan Wangji would fit in the old car, so he agreed without much argument.

The drive up is pleasant. It’s a sunny day, and Yuan is playing his favorite game -- 500 questions -- with Lan Wangji. Wei Ying observes, having been instructed by Yuan that he is not invited to play. 

“How many are you?” Yuan asks.

“I am 23,” Lan Wangji answers.

“Is that many?”

“It depends. It does not feel like very many to me. It is very many more than a-Yuan.”

“How many am I?”

“I do not know,” Lan Wangji says, looking askance at Wei Ying for help.

“Yuan! You know how old you are! How old are you?”

“3!” he yells.

“And how old is baba?” Wei Ying prompts.

“I think baba is … is ... ”

But Yuan has run out of numbers. He scrunches his face in confusion.

“Baba is 21,” Lan Wangji supplies.

“Baba is twunny-one!” Yuan repeats.

Wei Ying laughs, overcome with how happy he feels in this moment. He turns and looks at Lan Zhan, just to see him, just to take him in, and finds him looking more relaxed, more at peace than he’s ever seen him, his hard edges melted away into something soft. Wei Ying has the urge to reach out and touch him, to pet him as though he were a bunny himself -- gently, cautiously, so as not to scare him away.

He does not, though, because Lan Wangji is his boss and Wei Ying really, really needs to get his shit together.

--------

By the time they arrive at the farm, Wei Ying is pretty sure that Yuan has resolutely decided that Lan Wangji is his new dad. He refuses to let Wei Ying take him out of his car seat, insisting that Lan Wangji do it, and then demands to hold Lan Wangji’s hand.

Wei Ying looks apologetically at the man -- he hadn’t intended for him to get saddled with parenting duties on his Saturday -- but Lan Wangji doesn’t complain. He looks pleased. 

“Yuan, hold your baba’s hand too,” he says. Yuan obeys immediately -- this stings a little, as Yuan, perfect child he is, is rarely so obedient with Wei Ying -- and takes Wei Ying’s hand so that he is walking between them.

Wei Ying can’t help but think about the picture they make right now. The three of them holding hands, walking together like … like a family. 

He crams that down into a deep, deep place and locks the door. He drags a few bookcases in front, just in case. That thought can absolutely not get out.

Wen Ning runs out to them, waving happily, and Yuan drops both of their hands and tears away as fast as his little toddler legs will take him to tackle Wen Ning with a hug. Wei Ying looks sideways at Lan Wangji. “Don’t take it too personally,” he says. “Toddlers know no loyalty.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says, with perhaps just a hint of aggrievement. 

“Come on, let’s go say hi,” Wei Ying says, walking up to Wen Ning and giving him a hug. “Wen Ning, this is Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji, Wen Ning.”

“H-hi,” Wen Ning says, a little awkwardly. Lan Wangji nods.

Oh. Right. 

Wei Ying had forgotten that, of course, they’ve met already. He pushes forward, not wanting them to linger on the memory of that first meeting too long. 

“Alright, Wen Ning! To business! Show us the bunnies!”

Yuan doesn’t forget his new favorite person for long. Soon, he is plastered back to Lan Wangji’s side as they sit in the bunny enclave together. 

“You must sit very still,” Lan Wangji instructs him in a soft voice. “Bunnies are very small, and they may get scared because you are big.”

“I’m a big kid,” Yuan agrees.

“And you must not make any loud noises.”

“Shh!” Yuan says, pushing a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture.

Wei Ying watches them. The door where he has locked away his dangerous thoughts is rattling.

“Everything turned out okay then?”

“Hmm?” Wei Ying says, tearing his eyes away to try to focus on whatever it is that Wen Ning is saying to him.

“Everything turned out okay? With work?”

“Oh … yeah. Everything’s fine,” Wei Ying says, shrugging. “Lan Zhan was pretty amazing about the whole thing.”

“That’s good,” Wen Ning says, smiling at him. Then, hesitatingly, “Are you two…?”

That doesn’t process for a moment. Then it does, and Wei Ying feels a familiar, hot, creeping panic flush across his skin. He glances over at Lan Wangji, trying to see if he heard, but his head is bent low, whispering to Yuan, as a pair of bunnies hop tentatively up to them.

“No!” Wei Ying whispers back. “No! Definitely not! Lan Zhan is just a fr-- he’s just my boss,” Wei Ying just catches himself before he says, ‘friend’.

“Oh. Okay,” Wen Ning says, looking confused but not questioning him further. This is why Wei Ying likes Wen Ning so much, he thinks. Wen Qing would be needling him with a thousand questions right now, along with a thousand reminders of how very stupid it is to be getting so close to his boss, about the very dangerous game he’s playing with his future and his heart.

Wei Ying doesn’t need her to tell him though, as he watches Yuan barely restrain a squeal of delight as a bunny hops into his lap, and Lan Wangji presses a finger to his lips in a shush, Yuan mimicking him. 

Wei Ying swallows, his heart tight in his chest, and wonders if it’s already too late.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying had never considered it before, but there’s something really, incredibly erotic about filing paperwork. 

Not the way Wei Ying does it, of course. That would require Wei Ying having some kind of filing system, which he certainly doesn’t. Not like Lan Wangji, who has removed his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves to expose his forearms (Wei Ying considers that this must be an HR violation, something about provocative clothing at the office), and is nimbly walking his long fingers through the folders of his filing cabinet, with a focused expression that makes Wei Ying’s knees weak. He finds what he’s looking for, and his tongue darts between his lips, a pink glistening secret, before he speaks. 

“Wei Ying,” he says, and Wei Ying just stops himself from crawling over Lan Wangji’s desk, tackling him against the filing cabinet, and ravaging him right then and there. “Can you compose a report of tax rates by region, including amounts paid and owed on the Wen account?” He hands the folder across the desk to Wei Ying, who has barely managed to close his mouth and wipe away a bit of drool. Wei Ying nods, like a competent, respectable employee who is definitely not imagining sucking his boss’s tongue.

“Yes sir!” he says.

Whoops. That was a mistake. Calling Lan Wangji “sir” is giving Wei Ying ideas . Ideas not at all suited to an office environment.

Although. Actually, that’s a thought. Wei Ying could probably make it work. They could pull Lan Wangji’s door closed, lower the blinds, and Wei Ying could crawl into Lan Wangji’s lap -- or maybe he could slide under the desk while the man works, unzip Lan Wangji’s slacks, and find out exactly what Lan Wangji tastes like --

“Wei Ying? Do you need something?”

Wei Ying jumps. Right. Right. He’s at work. Not the time to be having very graphic sexual fantasies about his boss.

“No, all good! I’ll get it to you by the end of the day.”

“Tomorrow is fine,” Lan Wangji says. He’s looking at Wei Ying strangely, but Wei Ying gives his best hearty, totally-sane, not-a-pervert smile and heads back out to his cubicle to start the report.

Wei Ying has never really liked work. Not corporate work, anyway. He thinks he might be happy doing something more salt-of-the-earth. He thinks farming would suit him except, of course, he doesn’t have a farm. It might be fun to work at Wen Ning’s rescue, but he’s pretty sure there’s no money in that.

Office life is a drag. He can’t bring himself to care about some corporation’s bottomline. But this past week, work has been both fantastically wonderful and horrifically unbearable.

Wonderful because work is where Lan Wangji is. Where Wei Ying gets to see him, be around him, talk to him, all with the pretense of business. He doesn’t have to make up reasons to do it. He’s expected to spend time with Lan Wangji at the office. He gets paid to do it, which is pretty great.

But it is the fucking worst, because work means that Wei Ying has to see Lan Wangji, be around him, talk to him, and be professional about it. Which, really, is unedurable, it’s inhumane, it’s pushing Wei Ying to the absolute edge of his personal restraint. Which he is grateful and a little shocked to even find out he has, having been a creature of impulse for the previous 21 years of his life.

He realizes, now, that he’d been deluding himself when he’d claimed to have gotten over his crush on Lan Wangji. At most, it had just been put on pause for a few years while Wei Ying had been preoccupied with his life unspooling around him. Now, though, he found that it had been collecting interest during the deferment. This was well beyond wanting to pull Lan Wangji’s pigtails-- (oh god, do not think about Lan Wangji in pigtails right now) -- and had bloomed into full-blown, core-shaking obsession. Every brain cell that wasn’t focused on keeping himself or a-Yuan alive had dedicated itself to the art of observing Lan Wangji, or, if he wasn’t around, imagining Lan Wangji.

They weren’t just sexy imaginings either, although that, admittedly, took up a lot of his brain space. No, it was worse than that.

Sometimes, his imagination would run wild just creating domestic scenarios. Lan Wangji cooking them dinner in Wei Ying’s small kitchen while Wei Ying entertained a-Yuan. Cuddling up with Lan Wangji on the couch, watching some documentary while the boy dozed between them. Laying in bed next to Lan Wangji at night, as he ran his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair and kissed his forehead and said ‘goodnight’. Waking up next to him in the morning, curled around the heat of him, and just laying like that until a-Yuan woke up and they had to go make breakfast.

These thoughts are the worst, because the scooped out part of Wei Ying aches for it. His whole being is nothing but hunger -- hunger for comfort, for warmth, for family. He has been living off of crumbs, but that day with Lan Wangji and the bunnies, he had imagined a meal that felt so real -- he had seen it, he had smelled it, and he feared that nothing less would ever satisfy him now.

The thing is, it’s just all made so much harder by the fact that, sometimes, Lan Wangji makes him feel the tiniest bit hopeful. At least, he doesn’t seem to mind Wei Ying’s company. They’ve started eating lunch together, and even with Wei Ying carrying the conversation, it’s nice. Companionable. It makes Wei Ying’s heart squeeze in a way that is as overwhelming as it is confusing. 

But Wei Ying is an adult. So he’s told. And Wei Ying can be an adult about this. He will be polite. He will be professional. 

He pops his head into Lan Wangji’s office. “Gege, I’ve got a treat for you!”

He will be … as professional as Wei Ying can manage.

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, just slightly, and Wei Ying takes that as an invitation to enter, and drops the completed report on his desk. “All done! And you’ll be happy to know, it’s a fucking disaster! The previous director apparently didn’t audit them … literally ever. They’re behind on sales taxes since 2015 and it’s literally a miracle they haven’t been sued.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says, opening the report and leafing through it.

“Are you excited for the symphony this weekend?” Wei Ying asks, perching himself on the edge of Lan Wangji’s desk.  Lan Wangji’s eyes slide off the report to look, probably disapprovingly, at where Wei Ying’s ass is settled on the shiny desk top.

“It will be enjoyable,” Lan Wangji says, turning his attention back to the report.

“Who’re you taking?”

He tries to say it casually, like it’s an incidental question that has just occurred to him, and not a thought that’s been consuming him from the inside for days. Does Lan Wangji have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? A lover? Who are they? Would Lan Wangji tell Wei Ying if he did?

“Nobody,” Lan Wangji says.

“What? Nobody?” Wei Ying squawks, loudly. Lan Wangji puts the report down, and levels a scolding look at him.

“I asked brother, but he is unavailable. It is his anniversary. He has plans with his husband.” 

“Lan Zhan! You can’t go alone! That’s too sad. You’ve got to find someone to go with you. A date?”

“I do not date.”

Wei Ying files the fluttery feeling in his chest away for later. “That’s completely selfish of you, to keep yourself to yourself like that. Want me to set up a Tinder account for you? I feel like that is definitely within my duties, as your personal assistant.”

“I do not,” Lan Wangji says, opening the report again and beginning to go through it with a yellow highlighter. Wei Ying tries not to look too happy about this.

“A friend then?”

“I do not have friends,” Lan Wangji says, pauses, and then adds, “besides brother.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan! You have friends! I’m your friend!”

It is out of Wei Ying’s mouth before he thinks about it. Somehow, his filter seems to be constantly at least one sentence behind his mouth these days. 

Lan Wangji stops marking the report, and looks up at him. Wei Ying backtracks. “Uh, I mean -- you’re my boss, I know we’re not, like, supposed to be friends or anything. I don’t have to -- I mean, you don’t need to --”

“Would you like to join me?”

Wei Ying’s mouth is still open, but sound has stopped coming out. He’s staring at Lan Wangji, trying to force his thoughts to organize themselves before he speaks, this time. “Lan Zhan, you don’t have to--”

“I would like it if Wei Ying joined me.”

“Oh.”

He realizes after a moment that he is staring at Lan Wangji, and that he hasn’t answered. Lan Wangji is looking back at him, face as calm as ever. “Okay,” Wei Ying says. “That … that sounds nice.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Ying scoots off his desk. “Alright back to work!” he says. “Door open or closed?”

“Closed,” Lan Wangji answers.

Wei Ying exits, turning to pull the door closed behind him, and is struck, suddenly, by his view of Lan Wangji’s profile and a very red ear. 

---------

ok
i need advice but u r NOT ALLOWED TO BE WEIRD ABOUT IT

👀
i make no promises
how may this humble one assist u

what r u supposed to wear to the symphony

nice clothes
without holes
or band names
or cartoon characters
and 
more importantly
MOST IMPORTANTLY
y r u asking

no reason!
thx niexiong!!!

no
no u get back here right now
weixiong
WEIXIONG
WEI YING ANSWER UR GODDAMN PHONE
…
…
…
...u are dead to me.

--------

i have bad news

Is everything alright?
Do you need me to come over?

no no everythings fine!
we’re fine!
but ayuans babysitter cancelled
and wen ning is visiting his sister
im sorry lan zhan im gonna have to cancel
😓

It is fine, Wei Ying.

i feel so bad abandoning u!
i wish i didnt have to
but i dont think ayuans old enough to be home alone yet
i mean the kid barely knows how to use the stove
its honestly embarrassing
sry if i ruined ur evening

Wei Ying’s phone rings suddenly, and he nearly drops it in surprise. 

“Hello?”

“Wei Ying. Would you like to come over?”

“What? Like, to your place?”

“Mm.”

“But, the symphony …”

“As Wei Ying said. It would be sad to go alone.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan, I didn’t mean …”

“You do not have to come. But your company would be welcome.”

“I -- but -- a-Yuan --”

“You should bring him.”

“What? Lan Zhan, are you sure? You’ve gotta have better things to do than spend the night entertaining me and a 3-year-old …”

“I do not. I will send you my address.”

“...okay. I can be there in an hour?”

“I will see you then.”

--------

“Alright, a-Yuan,” Wei Ying says as they pull into the guest parking spot of Lan Wangji’s very posh apartment building. “What are you gonna do tonight?”

“Be a good boy!”

“That’s right!” Wei Ying says enthusiastically. “And what else?”

“I’m gonna -- I -- baba, I don’t remember.”

“You’re going to be very cute!”

“Very cute!” Yuan agrees, kicking his feet excitedly. “I can see gege now?”

“Yep, now it’s time to see gege.”

Wei Ying unbuckles Yuan from his carseat and hauls the overloaded diaper bag onto his shoulder. He’s brought Yuan’s pajamas, his bedtime stuffies, and a couple of picture books. He’s not sure how long they’ll be here, but it’s already getting late for the boy, so he figures it’s best to be prepared.

They enter the building and, after giving his name to the attendant, are waved over to the elevators. Wei Ying hits the button for the 30th floor -- the penthouse , of course Lan Wangji lives in the penthouse -- and tries very hard not to freak out.

Except, he is already freaking out. He’s been freaking out for the last 90 minutes, since he got Lan Wangji’s call. He’s about to see Lan Wangji’s apartment. To spend the evening with him in his apartment. Sure, there’s going to be a kid there, which definitely will help keep Wei Ying on his best behavior, but Wei Ying’s best behavior isn’t really all that good to start with.

They exit the elevator, and Lan Wangji is standing there, in the softest looking gray sweater Wei Ying has ever seen, waiting for them. 

“Gege!” Yuan yells, immediately squirming out of Wei Ying’s arms, so that he has to drop to his knees to keep the boy from falling to the ground. Yuan runs over to Lan Wangji and promptly wraps himself around his legs. 

“Hello, a-Yuan,” Lan Wangji says affectionately. “It is good to see you.”

“Good to see you,” Yuan repeats.

“A-Yuan, let go of him so he can move!” Wei Ying laughs, getting back to his feet. Yuan lets go, grinning widely. “Hi, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, walking over and taking the diaper bag from him and leading them inside. 

Lan Wangji’s apartment is immaculate. It’s also huge, and very, very white. So white that it makes Wei Ying nervous. He’s not a total goblin, but … yeah, there’s very little chance he’s not going to stain something. 

“Wow, Lan Zhan, this place is amazing,” Wei Ying says, dropping the diaper bag by the couch and walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city. 

“Um, um, gege.”

Wei Ying turns and sees Yuan tugging on Lan Wangji’s pant leg. The man kneels down to the boy’s level. “Yes?”

“I have a secret.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows raise the tiniest fraction, and he looks over at Wei Ying, who shrugs his shoulders.

“If it is a secret, you should not tell,” Lan Wangji instructs. Wei Ying snorts, and quickly covers it with a cough. 

“But but--” Yuan’s eyes are wide, and he suddenly reaches up and takes Lan Wangji’s face between his hands. “I should have a snack!” he announces in a loud whisper.

Wei Ying doesn’t bother covering his laugh this time. Lan Wangji looks completely unprepared for the announcement, which is hilarious. Wei Ying, of course, had known what was coming, being very familiar with Yuan’s secrets by now.

“Alright, come here, ragamuffin,” Wei Ying says, opening the diaper bag and pulling out a baggy of goldfish crackers he has stowed away.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Lan Wangji says, standing and eyeing the container. 

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, then, “wait, Lan Zhan. Are you cooking for us?”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says, and walks into the kitchen. 

“Here, a-Yuan,” Wei Ying says. He hands him the crackers, then picks him up and plops him at the dining room table. The boy can just reach the table top while sitting on his knees. Wei Ying gives him one of his books and his stuffed chicken. “Play here for a bit okay?”

Yuan nods at him absently, his attention fully focused on his snack, and Wei Ying joins Lan Wangji in the kitchen.

“Lan Zhan! I thought we’d order in or something. You’re cooking for us? On such short notice? That’s crazy.”

It is crazy. It’s also painfully close to Wei Ying’s most secret fantasies, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

Actually, he is sure how he feels. Untethered. A lantern, floating dizzyingly high, carrying with it the weight of his desire.

“Whatcha making?” he asks, hopping up onto the counter behind Lan Wangji where he stands at the stove, stirring.

“Mushroom and asparagus risotto,” he says, then pauses. “I was not certain what a-Yuan likes. If he will not eat it, I am able to prepare something more suitable.”

“Lan Zhan! You’re going to spoil him!” Wei Ying says with mock reprimand. “You can’t go make a whole second meal just for the baby!”

“I’m a big kid!” Yuan’s voice calls from the other room. Wei Ying laughs -- the kid has satellites for ears when it comes to food.

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says. “I am happy to do it.”

“No need,” Wei Ying says. “A-Yuan is the least picky eater on the planet, and that includes present company. He’ll eat anything.”

Lan Wangji considers this. “And Wei Ying?” he asks. “Will Wei Ying like it?”

“Wei Ying will like anything Lan Zhan makes,” Wei Ying says. Wait. No. He runs the sentence back in his head. Yeah, no. That’s flirting. That’s definitely flirting. “I mean, I’m sure you’re a great cook, Lan Zhan, you’re great at everything.” No no no no, that’s worse, he’s making it worse. 

He hits the brakes, but it’s like trying to stop a freight train at full speed. 

“I mean!” he gasps as sparks flying out of the wheels and noise crashes around him. “You must get lots of practice! Look at you! You clearly don’t eat a lot of takeout, you look so --”

Wei Ying gives up and just stops talking. Which is, likely, as bad of a give away as if he were to keep going, but at least this way he doesn’t have to specifically apologize for whatever is going to fall out of his mouth next. 

Lan Wangji, noticing the sudden silence, looks over his shoulder at him and, unless Wei Ying is very much mistaken -- which he probably is, Wei Ying is a complete idiot, after all -- he looks pleased. “Would you like a drink?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Yes,” Wei Ying breathes, tension falling out of his body. “I would very, very much like a drink.”

“There is a bottle in the wine fridge, you may open it.”

“You have a wine fridge? Really? Where? I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I do not drink. It came with the apartment. It is in the cabinet.” An apartment with a built-in wine fridge. Sure, why not? “The bottle was a gift from the company when I started.”

“They gave you wine?” Wei Ying says, shaking his head and chuckling with disbelief. He hops off the counter and begins opening cabinets. “Amazing. All I got was HR breathing down my neck about whether or not my US passport was counterfeit. Which it’s not!” he says, as he notices Lan Wangji levering an eyebrow up at him. “I’m a bona fide US citizen and I have the paperwork to prove it! Somewhere. I should probably find it, at some point.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says, but Wei Ying is getting better at this. He can hear the amusement this time.

“Found it!” Wei Ying says at last, throwing open one of the cabinets and finding the hidden wine fridge within, wherein lies a single green glass bottle. Wei Ying pulls it out and reads the label. “Chateau Cheval Blanc, 2015,” he announces to the room at large. “Mm, a very good year. Probably.”

“Probably,” Lan Wangji agrees. “Glasses are to the right of the sink.”

“Do you have a corkscrew?” Wei Ying asks as he pulls a glass with an alarmingly thin stem from the cupboard, making note to be very, very careful with it. “Not being a drinker and all --”

Lan Wangji hums. He stops stirring for a moment and walks over to Wei Ying, reaching down toward his right hip, and pulling open a drawer. He reaches inside and pulls out a corkscrew and hands it to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying must take it, because 5 minutes later he is sipping a glass of wine as he sits across the table from Yuan, who has finished his snack and is now making up a story as he pretends to read his picture book. He’s not entirely sure how he got here. His brain shorted out sometime around the moment Lan Wangji walked over to him, close enough that his arm brushed Wei Ying’s side as he reached past him with one of his strong, elegant hands down towards Wei Ying’s hip.

Wei Ying takes a gulp of wine and pours a little more. Which is both a good idea and a bad idea. A good idea, because he is wound so tightly he’s about to pop a spring. A bad idea, because --

“Lan Zhan! You have a booster seat?” Wei Ying cries as Lan Zhan, finished setting the table, walks back into the dining room carrying a purple plastic booster for Yuan. “Do you have, like, a secret kid or something? Is that why you have this kid stuff? Is that why you’re so good with him?”

“I do not.”

“Then why the hel-- heck do you have a booster seat?”

“For a-Yuan,” he says. 

Wei Ying stares at him. Lan Wangji stares back for a moment, before he looks away to buckle the straps of the booster into the chair so it doesn’t slide. Wei Ying actually watches Lan Wangji’s ear turn red.

“Dinner looks great!” Wei Ying says, using brute force to wrest the conversation towards a new topic. He’s still staring at Lan Wangji’s ear.

--------

Dinner is pretty good, as it turns out. Lan Wangji is good in the kitchen, as expected. Yuan seems particularly happy, making several appreciative “yummy!” comments. Wei Ying tries not to take this personally -- Yuan has never been so complimentary of the food Wei Ying prepares for him.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” Lan Wangji asks as Wei Ying begins clearing the plates away. Lan Wangji had started to clean up himself, but Wei Ying had forced him back into his chair and ordered him to rest. -- “You cooked us dinner! You’re not cleaning, too!”

“It was good,” Wei Ying says. “Healthy. That may have been more vegetables than I’ve eaten in the last year.”

This earns him a scowl from Lan Wangji. He laughs.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m healthy, aren’t I?” He gives a little spin to show off how healthy he looks. Which, of course, is a lie. His insides are probably just pudding. 

“Mm,” Lan Wangji answers. It sounds … well. It makes something warm and heavy pool around the region of Wei Ying’s navel. He suppresses a shudder. 

“I do have one note,” he calls from the kitchen, where he is rinsing the plates in the sink before loading them into the dishwasher -- something he, literally, never does in his own home. “You should use more spice! Some hot sauce or chilli flakes or something. All food is better spicy.”

He finishes cleaning the dishes and walks out to the living room, where Lan Wangji is on the floor with Yuan sitting in his lap, one of his picture books open. “This one’s name is Kitty!” Yuan says, pointing at a picture of a truck.

Lan Wangji nods. “And what color is Kitty?” he asks.

“Kitty is blue!”

“Very good.”

Wei Ying clears his throat and walks in to join them. “Lan Zhan, do you have a speaker system? Something I could hook up my phone to? And wi-fi?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t question this, and answers, “The bluetooth name is Bose-Home-Theater. The wifi is TheWarren.”

“The warren?” Wei Ying repeats, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Mm.”

“And the password?”

Lan Wangji pauses for a moment, before answering, “BunnyFooFoo22.”

Wei Ying nearly falls over. “What.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t repeat himself. His ears are so red now, that they might be glowing.

“That is … that is …” Wei Ying opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then yells, “That is not allowed! ”

Lan Wangji starts a little at his sudden volume. Yuan says, “Baba, no yelling!”

Wei Ying doesn’t care. Like this wasn’t hard enough already. Like pretending he wasn’t entirely head-over-heels for his boss wasn’t hard enough already, now the man has the nerve to -- the audacity to --

“You’re not allowed to be that cute. I forbid it,” Wei Ying mutters darkly, not looking at Lan Wangji. “Is ‘FooFoo’ spelled with two o’s or u’s?”

He types in the password as Lan Wangji spells it out to him, and then pops open his Spotify app, clicking on the playlist he created a few hours ago.

Music begins to pipe into the apartment. A roll of timpani, followed by the rich, dark crescendo of cellos, breaking into placid horns, then the sweet timbre of woodwinds. Lan Wangji raises his head from where it was bent next to Yuan’s over his book, and turns to look at Wei Ying. Wei Ying is smiling, happy with himself. “I thought, if we can’t go to the symphony, at the very least I could bring the symphony to you.”

“Gege,” Yuan cuts in, clearly affronted that Lan Wangji’s attention has moved away from him. “What’s syn-funny?”

--------

Yuan is asleep on Lan Wangji. Wei Ying had noticed him beginning to nod off a bit ago, and had bustled him into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into pajamas. “If I don’t do it now, he’ll end up sleeping in his clothes all night,” Wei Ying had explained to Lan Wangji, who merely nodded.

They should probably head home. Wei Ying knows this. But, Wei Ying has finished the entire bottle of wine himself. He hadn’t planned on it, but the evening and his nerves had gotten away from him. It is making it challenging to separate what he should do from what he wants to do, the impulses tangling together, until he finds himself leaning his head into Lan Wangji’s shoulder as they sit side-by-side on the couch, listening to music, Yuan asleep in Lan Wangji’s lap.

“I should get him to bed,” Wei Ying says regretfully as the movement comes to a close. 

“He is fine,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Ying imagines the man’s arms tighten around Yuan just a little, hugging him in closer.

“Who knew you were such a softy for kids, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying laughs. “The great Lan Wangji, soft for babies and bunnies. No one will ever believe me.”

He forces himself to sit up, and immediately misses the warm, firm pillow of Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “I really should get him home, though.”

“You have been drinking,” Lan Wangji says. There is no reprimand there, but Wei Ying bristles nonetheless.

“I know,” he says. “I wasn’t going to drive. I’ll call a Lyft, and then come back and get the car in the morning.”

“That is unnecessary,” Lan Wangji says. “You may stay here.”

“Lan Zhan ,” Wei Ying sighs. He certainly isn’t making this easy on Wei Ying. “We can’t stay here. That’s … completely unreasonable. I’ll call a car. You can’t just let us intrude on your life like this --”

“Not an intrusion,” Lan Wangji cuts him off. “You are welcome here.”

Wei Ying blinks at him. He thinks that he should insist on going home. Lan Wangji is too nice for his own good. But Wei Ying is a weak man. His head is foggy with alcohol. And he wants to stay -- god he wants to stay so much --

“Okay,” he relents, with a thrill of guilt and excitement. “We should probably get this one in bed though. Do you have a guest room?”

“He can sleep in my bed,” Lan Wangji says and, without waiting for an answer, stands and carries Yuan to his room.

“Lan Zhan … ” Wei Ying tries, but he can’t get the protest out. 

“You may sleep in the bed with him,” Lan Wangji says, after they have tucked the boy in. “I will sleep on the couch.”

“No,” Wei Ying says firmly. “No, absolutely not. You are not sleeping on the couch in your own home.”

“What do you suggest?”

What does Wei Ying suggest? His mouth is moving ahead of his brain again. “You can … it’s a big bed,” Wei Ying stammers, not entirely sure what his mouth is saying, the wine is heavy around his thoughts, a plush blanket, comfortable and warm. “There’s enough room.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t protest. Through the haze of wine, Wei Ying thinks that Lan Wangji should protest. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You may borrow clothes to sleep in.”

Wei Ying nods, and decides not to think too hard about it.

Chapter Text

It is very warm.

Wei Ying wakes up enveloped in heat. A-Yuan is next to him, his cloud of toddler hair tickling Wei Ying's nose, and his foot lodged firmly in Wei Ying's bladder.

This is all pretty par for the course.

What is not par for the course, is that Wei Ying's leg is hooked around something solid. His right arm is pinned under Yuan (normal), and his fingers gripped around a well muscled forearm (not normal).

He slowly blinks open one eye. Over Yuan's sleeping head, he sees Lan Wangji, awake, looking back at him. He smiles, before his conscious mind catches up with him. 

“Fuck!” he yells, dropping Lan Wangji’s wrist and flinging himself backward. Unfortunately, his leg is still hooked around what Wei Ying now realizes is Lan Wangji’s leg. He falls backwards out of the bed, Yuan still on top of him. In a lucky moment of clarity, he wraps his arms around his son just before his back hits the floor.

It is an inauspicious start to the day.

20 minutes later, most of them filled with consoling a startled, screaming toddler who is now eating raisin toast and looking pleased with himself, Wei Ying still hasn’t processed what is going on.

He slept in his boss’s bed. He slept in Lan Wangji’s bed. It is, truly, the worst case scenario. This has to break, like, so many rules. They probably aren’t actually written in the employee handbook, because nobody would be stupid enough to sleep in their boss’s bed. Nobody until Wei Ying, that is. They’ll have to write a whole new rulebook, just to cover all the stupid things Wei Ying is capable of. 

A plate of toast and fruit is placed in front of him. He stares at the carefully peeled oranges, the sliced apples, and his stomach twists. He looks up and meets Lan Wangji’s eyes.

Wei Ying being a disaster is nothing new. Truly, his current situation is a new depth of stupid, even for him. But what had Lan Wangji been thinking? 

The thought is the smallest ember of distraction, and Wei Ying fans it into anger. Lan Wangji should have known better. If Wei Ying knows better, then certainly Lan Wangji does. Wei Ying had been drunk -- on wine and his own stupid feelings. Lan Wangji had no excuse. Except being so nice . He was too damn nice. He let Wei Ying railroad him, and now things were completely beyond repair. Because Wei Ying -- Wei Ying couldn’t -- his heart couldn’t --

He pushes back from the table and stands quickly. “I’m going to change, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

He hurries to the bedroom to change, without waiting for a reply. He has nothing but yesterday’s clothes to wear, of course -- the cherry red sweater and and his black work slacks that he had painstakingly selected from his sparse wardrobe, eager to look nice, to impress. They’ve been folded into a neat pile, sitting on the dresser top -- no doubt placed there by Lan Wangji. Wei Ying has never folded clothes in his life. They’re mocking him now, for daring to believe he could be anything more than the mess he is. He wants to open the window and throw them 30 stories into the alley below. But they’re better than standing here one second longer in Lan Wangji’s pajamas -- his perfect cotton pajamas, soft from wear, too large and hanging from Wei Ying in a way that makes him think about how much bigger Lan Wangji is than him. How he could wrap Wei Ying into his arms, against his chest, and Wei Ying could all but disappear into him.

He tears the pajamas off, pulling on his clothes from the night before. He considers leaving the pajamas in a pile on the floor, but it is a spiteful thought and it makes his insides burn with guilt alongside the anger. The anger that he knows is misplaced, but he can’t afford to let go. He picks them up, and places them in the hamper.

Lan Wangji is sitting next to Yuan, carefully removing the crusts from Yuan’s toast, when Wei Ying finally pulls himself together enough to exit the bedroom. His eyes try to find Wei Ying’s -- there’s a question there. Wei Ying can’t handle it. He can’t handle Lan Wangji asking him -- ‘Wei Ying, why did you sleep in my bed?’ ‘Wei Ying, why would you spend the night?’ ‘Wei Ying, why were you holding me in your sleep?’ ‘Wei Ying, why?’

He can’t answer any of it. He’d die before he answered any of it, he’d die before Lan Wangji finished asking. So, instead, he takes the only path left to him.

He flees.

“Alright, a-Yuan, time to go!” he says, his voice brittle-bright. 

“Baba, I am eating!”

“We have food at home,” he says, just shy of snapping.

Lan Wangji’s eyes widen a little. Wei Ying continues not to look at him. “We have to get home, Yuan-er. Come on, let’s pick up your toys.”

Yuan’s face screws up, and Wei Ying can smell the impending tantrum. “If we leave soon, we can watch Bluey!” Wei Ying pleads. He hates Bluey, but if this is what it takes ...

This has the desired effect. Yuan’s face transitions from the prelude of a full-blown tantrum, to an excited smile. “Okay!” he says. Wei Ying walks over and helps him out of the booster seat. Lan Wangji moves as he approaches, as though he’s going to reach out. Wei Ying spins away quickly, twisting out of reach as he helps Yuan to the floor.

It takes little time to pack up Yuan’s things and wrestle him into his shoes. Wei Ying can feel the weight of Lan Wangji’s stare the whole time, so heavy that it suffocates him. But this is better, it’s better than words…

They’re at the elevator. Lan Wangji waits beside them. The silence wraps around Wei Ying like a mummy’s gauze. He feels fragile, like he has stepped out of time and blinked himself awake in a new body that he doesn’t know, has found himself a stranger and the world around him changed. 

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

He steps forward into it, raising his eyes to look at Lan Wangji at last. “Thanks,” he says, as the doors slide closed.

--------

His phone rings.

It has been ringing every hour for days. He ignores the call, as he has ignored all of the others.

He should turn the ringer off, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He won’t answer, he can’t answer, but the sound of the ringtone is at once a cut and a balm to his wounded soul. 

It is Wednesday, and he hasn’t been into the office all week. Each morning, he calls into HR and claims to be sick. It can’t last, of course. His sick days are all expended, and he’s eating into his meager PTO now. But it’s not like he needs it for holidays, he thinks darkly. It’s not like he has family to visit, or the money to take a vacation.

He just needs some time. He’s pretty sure he’s making things worse by calling off work and refusing Lan Wangji’s phone calls, letting his texts go unread. But he can’t face it yet. He needs time to let the raw wound of emotion heal over. Seeing Lan Wangji, hearing his voice, even just reading his words would just tear him open again.

Yuan is sitting in the middle of the floor, watching cartoons on Wei Ying’s tablet, the beneficiary of Wei Ying’s melancholy in the form of increased screentime. Add bad parenting to his long list of negative attributes.

The call goes to voicemail, and the silence that follows knifes through Wei Ying. But he doesn’t have long to wallow in the fresh pain, as there is a sharp series of knocks at the door. 

Wei Ying starts. He’s not expecting visitors. He is very decidedly avoiding everyone: Wen Ning, Wen Qing. Even Nie Huaisang, despite his many attempts to bait Wei Ying into gossip. Besides, Nie Huaisang doesn’t know where he lives. Wei Ying doesn’t invite people over. The only person who has ever been to his home, besides Wen Ning, is …

Maybe it’s Wen Ning. For the love of god, let it be Wen Ning.

“Baba, door!” Yuan informs him as the knocking continues, not looking up from his show. 

Wei Ying drags himself to the door and looks out through the peephole.

It is not Wen Ning.

He considers not opening the door. But he can’t pretend to not be home, with the lights all on and the sound of cartoons and Yuan no doubt making their way out to the stoop. Plus, he can’t actually avoid this forever. He has to go back to work eventually, and even he knows it will be worse if he leaves the door closed.

“Hi, Lan Zhan,” he opens the door and stands in the crack. He doesn’t want there to be any confusion about there being an invitation to come inside.

Yuan, of course, has other ideas.

“Gege!” he cries, and runs up behind Wei Ying, peeking his head around his legs.

Lan Wangji nods at Yuan, but doesn’t speak. His eyes are on Wei Ying’s face, searching, dragging scorch marks across his skin.

“Can I help you?” Wei Ying asks at last, when he can’t stand it any longer. His stomach clenches. ‘Can I help you,’ as though they are strangers.

“You are not answering your phone,” Lan Wangji says. His tone is neutral, but Wei Ying receives it like an accusation.

“I’m on PTO,” he says. “That means I don’t answer work calls.”

Lan Wangji continues to look at him. “I was worried.”

“Don’t be,” Wei Ying says, his own voice mean to his ears. “Don’t worry about me, Lan Wangji.”

Hurt flashes across his beautiful face. The face Wei Ying has gotten to know so well, has watched so much, has etched into his subconscious, that he dreams about, tracing the planes of his cheekbones, his nose, his chin, his lips. Wei Ying knows this face, and sees the pain there laid bare before him. 

He feels sick with it. He wants to snatch the words back. He wants to push into them, to leave a lasting bruise, to break this.

“I understand,” Lan Wangji says. The pained look is gone. He is standing straight, hands behind his back, face a marble mask. “You may take the rest of the week off. I will expect you on Monday.”

“Sure,” Wei Ying says. “See you Monday.”

Lan Wangji has turned and walked away before Wei Ying has closed the door.

“Byebye!” Yuan calls after him.

--------

By Friday, it is, perhaps, not entirely unexpected when Wen Qing shows up on his doorstep, her expression stormy, Wen Ning looking worried and cowed behind her.

“Qing-jie!” Yuan screeches in delight, and throws himself out of Wei Ying’s arms to latch around Wen Qing’s neck. 

“Hey, a-Yuan,” she says fondly, her face softening momentarily and she pulls the little boy fully into her arms, hugging him. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” Yuan cheers. “Qing-jie! Baba, it’s Qing-jie!”

“I see that,” Wei Ying smiles at him.

“Qing-jie is here to talk to your baba, a-Yuan. Can you be a good boy while baba and I talk?”

“Yeah, I’m a good boy!”

“That makes one of you,” Wen Qing coos to him, pushing past Wei Ying into the house without invitation. 

“Hi, Wei Ying,” Wen Ning says, mouthing a quick, silent ‘sorry’ to him behind Wen Qing’s back.

Wei Ying smiles at him, a little weakly. “Hey, Wen Ning. Good to see you.”

It is good to see him. It’s good to see both of them, even if he actively wants them to leave at the same time.

“A-Yuan, why don’t you show Wen Ning your toys?” Wen Qing suggests as she places the toddler back on his feet. “Baba and I are going to have a grown-up talk.”

“Okay!” he says, and grabs Wen Ning’s hand to lead him over to his toy chest.

“You,” Wen Qing says sharply, her eyes razors. “Bedroom. Now.”

Wei Ying considers, briefly, fleetingly, making an off-color joke. But, Wen Qing is not to be messed with in the best of circumstances. Which this is, clearly, not.

He follows her into the bedroom and takes a seat on the bed. She stands over him, all 5’3 of her somehow towering in her displeasure. 

“You haven’t answered your phone,” she says, baldly.

“Right,” Wei Ying says, picking at a hangnail.

“Wen Ning called you.”

“Yes.”

“Then Wen Ning called me.”

“Mm.”

“Then I called you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wei Ying says, irritably. 

She narrows her eyes at him. “What did you do?”

Ah, Wen Qing. She, more than anyone, understands that if Wei Ying is in trouble, it is undoubtedly Wei Ying’s own fault. “Nothing,” Wei Ying lies.

She glares at him.

He squirms.

“Does this,” she starts, her voice low, somehow both dangerous and kind, “have something to do with Lan Wangji?”

“What?” Wei Ying yelps. Which is, on its own, basically a confession. “Who told you that?”

She doesn’t answer. It is, after all, a very dumb question.

“I don’t know what Wen Ning told you. It’s not like that” -- a lie -- “work has just been challenging lately” -- not a lie, but an obfuscation -- “and I really needed some time to myself.” -- the truth.

“You can’t do this, Wei Ying,” she says. Her voice is still heated, but she takes a seat next to him on the bed. “You always do this. When things get bad, you disappear. You’ve gotta stop.”

“I can take care of myself,” he snaps.

“And what about your friends? Are we just supposed to be okay when you disappear, when you could be hurt or dead? No idea what’s happened to you? To a-Yuan?”

This shuts him up, and shuts down his anger. “We’re fine,” he says, not looking at her.

“I can see that you’re both alive. But you don’t look very fine,” she sniffs.

He laughs, because he knows what she means. He is more of a wreck than usual. He’s been wearing the same ratty pajamas for three days, and he hasn’t showered or brushed his hair in as long. 

“Stay for dinner, and I’ll take a shower,” he says.

“I pick the restaurant,” she says, as he grabs a fresh change of pajamas and heads to the bathroom.

--------

Later, after they have cleaned up the takeout -- “ Salads, Wen Qing, really?” -- and put Yuan to bed, Wei Ying sits in the living room with his friends, making good headway on a bottle of gin. Wen Ning is helping -- barely. But, he doesn’t have Wei Ying’s tolerance, and is already visibly on the borderline between tipsy and drunk.

“So Lan Wangji is your boss,” Wen Qing says, shaking her head. “That’s pretty fucked up, Wei Ying.”

“Tell me about it,” he sighs, taking another sip of his drink. It’s just straight gin, the ice having long since melted, but he’s still pouring it into a glass, so the night hasn’t deteriorated so badly.

“You need to be careful,” Wen Qing says, “you can’t go flirting with him, or falling for him. He’s your boss. It’d be putting your job at risk.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, unwilling to admit that he was already far past this point.

“Yeah,” Wen Qing repeats, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Wen Ning chimes in. “I thought you were freaking out about the baby.”

Wen Qing's eyes widen as she whips her head around to look at her brother, who looks confused, then startled, and finally horrified. 

“What baby?” Wei Ying asks, uncertain what they’re talking about and what it could possibly have to do with him.

“Nothing!” Wen Ning cries, throwing his hands up and spilling the remainder of his drink down his front.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Wen Qing says to him, not unkindly. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up? I need to head back soon, I have work tomorrow.”

Wen Ning nods, still looking a little pale, and scurries off to the bathroom.

“Wen Qing,” Wei Ying says, “what baby?”

Wen Qing puffs out her cheeks, and looks like she’s going to refuse to answer.

“Wen Qing …” Wei Ying pleads.

“You have to promise not to disappear again,” she says. This is not a good sign. Wei Ying gulps, and nods. Wen Qing sighs, and runs a hand through her hair, before looking up at him. “Your nephew,” she says at last.

Wei Ying goes very still, the word, the implication of it, freezing him from his core out to his skin. “My nephew?”

“She had a baby,” Wen Qing says, continuing to hold eye contact with him. Wei Ying can’t look away, waiting to see the punchline, waiting for her to yell, ‘just kidding!’ and laugh at him.

Except. 

Except, Wen Qing wouldn’t joke about this.

“Who--” Wei Ying begins, but it's a pointless question.

“Jiang Yanli. She had a baby, this past Sunday.”

Wei Ying feels like the room is tipping. He sips his drink, wondering if there’s a level of drunk that will make the world right itself again. “How did you find out?”

“Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng. Wen Qing still talks to Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng talks to Wen Qing about Wei Ying’s family. About his sister. About his nephew…

“She wanted to tell you,” Wen Qing is saying from far away. “But you blocked her on everything . She couldn’t reach you.”

“My nephew,” Wei Ying says again.

“Are you going to be okay?” Wen Qing asks, a little nervously. “Do you need someone to stay with you?”

“No!” Wei Ying yells, forgetting, momentarily, that there is a sleeping baby in the other room. “No,” he repeats more quietly. “I’m -- I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. It’s not like this changes anything, right?” he laughs and takes a drink. “I was disowned before the baby. I’m still disowned. It doesn’t change anything.”

Wen Qing’s eyes study him, steeped in skepticism. Wei Ying does his best to look heartily fine .

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says, as Wen Ning rejoins them, stumbling a little drunkenly into the room. “And you’d better pick up.”

“Alright alright, I will,” Wei Ying says, walking them to the door and making a shooing motion at her. “Don’t worry about me!”

Wen Qing turns to him before he closes the door. She looks like she wants to say something. She opens her mouth, takes a breath in … and then exhales, shaking her head a little. She reaches up and pats him tenderly on the cheek. “Answer your phone,” she says, before helping her brother into the car and driving away.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying doesn’t go on a bender. He has a son to take care of. He’s a single parent, he needs to be responsible, he needs to be there for Yuan.

But he does spend the evening after the Wens leave getting blindingly drunk. 

He’s back on his best behavior by the next day, fighting his way through his second hangover in as many months. He vows to himself that he will never drink again. At least, not as much.

None of it makes Monday any easier. He drops Yuan off at daycare, and walks slowly to the office. He stands outside the building, staring up, for several long minutes before he can finally bring himself to go inside. He can do this. He can get through the day, he can see and talk to Lan Wangji like everything is fine. 

He’s late, of course. He also looks like shit. The bags under his eyes are so heavy, he feels them pulling down his face. His clothes are clean, but wrinkled. His hair is brushed and pulled back, but he can already feel where it’s escaping from the tie.

HR approaches him before he’s even made it to his cubicle.

He sees the woman bustling over to him, and he feels immediately sick. He has the impulse to run in the opposite direction. Maybe if they can’t catch him, they can’t fire him …

“You’re Wei Ying?” she asks, her eyes darting from his messy hair, to his wrinkled shirt, back up to his face.

“Yeah,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

A stupid question. ‘Of course everything isn’t okay,’ he thinks. ‘You spent the night in your boss’s bed, you showed up to work late looking like the seventh ring of Hell, and you called off for an entire week without notice.’

The woman nods at him. “Great, come with me,” -- he’s fired, he’s definitely fired, they’re going to escort him out of the building like a criminal, he’s going to be homeless, he’s going to have to give Yuan to Wen Ning-- “I’ll show you to your new desk.”

-- what?

“What?” he asks, not understanding what is happening.

“Your new desk,” she repeats. She turns and starts walking briskly, and Wei Ying follows her. “I’ll have somebody clean out your old space and bring it up. We’re in a bit of a hurry, as it’s late already,” she looks sharply at him, but he can’t defend himself because he still has no idea what’s happening. “You’ll be Jin Guangyao’s personal assistant going forward. He’s a couple of floors up. He’s a bit -- strict about office attire,” the sharp eyes are back on him, “just so you know.”

Wei Ying nods, even though she is no longer looking at him. They take the stairs up two flights, and she leads him to a cubicle outside of a large corner office, a nameplate reading, “Jin Guangyao, CFO” on the door.

“We’ve given you the old PA’s computer. There’s nobody to train you, unfortunately, so you’ll need to catch yourself up.”

“Right,” Wei Ying says, then, “uh -- Lan Zh -- Lan Wangji --”

“He has been assigned a new PA,” she says. “Let me know if you have any problems.” Her tone makes it clear that she very much is not going to do anything if he does have any problems. Wei Ying thanks her, and takes a seat at the desk.

His head is spinning. He’d come in prepared to spend the day avoiding Lan Wangji as much as possible -- to avoid looking at him or speaking to him or being in rooms with him. Now, he found that he had no reason at all to speak to or look at or be in rooms with Lan Wangji. He should feel relieved.

He doesn’t. He feels hollow, a single nesting doll: one, where there should be many.

He can’t think about it. He starts up the computer and gets to work.

--------

Working for Jin Guangyao is nothing like working for Lan Wangji. Whereas Lan Wangji was all serious, quiet kindness, Jin Guangyao is sunny, smiling and terrifying. Wei Ying experienced it on that first day, when Jin Guangyao finally called him into his office just before close. He’d been smiling, his tone bright and friendly. “Wei Ying!” he’d said it like they were old friends. “How has your first day been? Not too overwhelming?”

“It’s been good,” Wei Ying says, not dishonestly. It was a total nightmare, trying to make sense of the former PA’s -- Su She’s -- notes. But it had been diverting, and he was grateful for it.

“Good, good. I’m sure you’ll fit in well, I’ve heard good things about you.”

That sounds like a lie. Who would be saying good things about Wei Ying? He doesn’t reply.

“Do let me know if you have any questions,” Jin Guangyao continues. “I know some of the work can be a bit confusing, especially if you don’t have a formal background.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Wei Ying says, his mouth sour, the sneaky dig about his lack of degree having the desired effect.

“I’m sure,” the man smiles. “But still. Let me know. I’m not in the habit of just tossing people out.”

Wei Ying doesn’t even blink. It could be an innocent throwaway comment, but … but the man is a Jin. He’ll know all about Wei Ying. “No problem,” Wei Ying says, forcing a smile back, “I’ll be sure not to keep my jaw shut.”

Perhaps his subtlety game isn’t up to the same level as Jin Guangyao’s, but Wei Ying has never really gone in for subtlety anyway. Jin Guangyao, though, doesn’t even flinch. “See that you do.”

--------

Wei Ying’s phone rings. He dives across the couch, to where he had thrown it away from himself in a desperate attempt to stop checking it every 10 seconds. 

“Hello?” he says excitedly, without bothering to check the caller ID.

“What’s got you so excited?” Wen Qing asks, her tone bemused.

“Oh, Wen Qing,” he tries not to sound too disappointed. “Just happy to hear from you! How’re you?”

“Same as yesterday,” she says. “And the day before. And the day before.”

“Right,” Wei Ying says. 

“Everything alright there? New boss still terrifying?”

“Things are fine,” Wei Ying says, as he slides down to the floor to help Yuan stack blocks that he will, undoubtedly, be smashing down later. “Boss is … still awful. But, it’s to be expected. I’m literally working at Jin Zixuan’s company. It’s amazing it wasn’t worse than this before now.”

“Jin Zixun was pretty terrible,” Wen Qing points out.

“True,” Wei Ying says, “but he was also stupid. Jin Guangyao is definitely not stupid.”

“Is that better or worse?”

“I’m not sure,” Wei Ying says, handing a block to Yuan to place on top of their tower. “Both?”

“Have you called your sister yet?”

Wei Ying frowns. Wen Qing has been deploying this particular surprise attack tactic for the last two weeks. It hurts every time, even when he’s started to expect it -- these sudden, sharp reminders of the family he’s lost. “No,” he says, evenly, as though it’s not a big deal. “Cut open anyone interesting lately?”

“Couldn’t tell you if I did,” Wen Qing replies. 

“Spoilsport,” Wei Ying pouts, just as Yuan tires of making the tower and, with a roar, smashes it down. “Oh no! It’s a monster!”

“Not a monster!” Yuan yells. “I’m a big bunny!”

Wei Ying’s heart squeezes a little. “Well big bunnies need to eat big dinners! You hungry, Peter Rabbit?”

“I’m Yuan!” the boy says, “not Peter!”

“How silly of me,” Wei Ying smiles. “Wen Qing, I gotta go feed the giant bunny.”

“Fine,” she says, “just making sure you’re not dead.”

“Definitely alive,” Wei Ying agrees.

“Call your sister,” Wen Qing tries again, just before Wei Ying disconnects the call.

--------

He isn’t expecting Lan Wangji to call. Why would he? The man has made it perfectly clear that he is done with Wei Ying. They don’t even work together anymore, why would he call him?

This doesn’t stop Wei Ying from hoping. He hates that he hopes. There’s nothing to hope for. But he hopes.

The lack of contact from Lan Wangji also doesn’t stop Yuan from asking about him. “Can gege come over?” He’s started asking regularly. Wei Ying wishes the boy hadn’t taken to Lan Wangji so much. Even now, he occasionally catches his son mimicking some of Lan Wangji’s mannerisms. “Do not run,” he heard him instructing his toys, looking very serious. Wei Ying had interrupted, telling Yuan’s chicken that he was free to run around as much as he liked, instigating a play fight with his son. He hoped that, eventually, he could wipe Lan Wangji’s presence from Yuan. It hurt too much to think that Yuan was missing him too.

It is Monday of the fourth week without Lan Wangji, when Wei Ying sees him again. 

Wei Ying is leaving work. It is raining -- cold, sleeting rain. He doesn’t have an umbrella because, of course he doesn’t. He’d gotten so used to having the umbrella waiting for him, propped in the corner of his cubicle, appearing as if by magic whenever he needed it.

He stands in the lobby, considering his next move. He can’t walk Yuan home without an umbrella. There’s a convenience store a couple of blocks away -- in the opposite direction from Yuan’s daycare. He can run there and grab an umbrella if they have one, maybe. He’ll be late to pick Yuan up, but really, that’s not so different from usual.

He’s preparing to make the mad dash out into the rain, but then there’s an umbrella in front of him, being offered by a strong, elegant hand. 

He turns and faces Lan Wangji. The man is not looking at him. He holds the umbrella out to him, silently. Wei Ying stares. He’d known he’d missed him, but he hadn’t realized just how hungry, how starved he was of him. Of seeing him. Of being close to him, and standing in his sandalwood smell.

“Don’t you need it?” Wei Ying asks.

Lan Wangji looks at him, just for a moment, before looking away again. “I have another.”

Wei Ying doesn’t make a move to take the umbrella, still too absorbed in drinking Lan Wangji in. He looks beautiful, of course. But he also looks … ‘tired,’ Wei Ying decides, ‘he looks tired.’

He’s probably putting in too many long hours. It seems like something Lan Wangji would do.

“Take it,” Lan Wangji says, giving the umbrella a little shake. “For a-Yu -- for Yuan.”

Wei Ying takes the umbrella and opens his mouth to thank Lan Wangji, but he’s gone in the next moment, leaving Wei Ying open mouthed and dazed by his sudden light, which was, just as suddenly, taken away.

--------

He exits the elevator two floors early, a tray of drinks in one hand, umbrella tucked up under the arm of his other. He’s just going to return the umbrella, and drop off a tea, as a thank you. It’s the proper thing to do. It doesn’t mean anything, he’s not here because it means anything, because he wants to be. Because after seeing Lan Wangji yesterday, he’s aching to see him again. 

He’s just being polite. Madam Yu might have thought him a hopeless wretch who never listened, but he’d heard her many lessons on manners, and, especially, his lack of them. He knew how to be polite, however he ordinarily chose to behave.

As he walks up to Lan Wangji’s office, though, he realizes that something is off. The office is dark, the door closed. He frowns, walking up and knocking. There is no answer.

“He’s home sick today,” a polite voice informs him. He turns and someone -- ‘not Lan Wangji’, he tells himself after a wild moment of confusion -- is smiling at him. This man can only be Lan Wangji’s brother. Wei Ying had known his brother worked here -- he was, allegedly, friends with Wei Ying’s boss. (There were rumors, according to Nie Huaisang, that ‘friends’ didn’t quite cover the scope of their relationship.) Wei Ying had never had the chance to meet him before, though, and he is struck by how similar he looks to Lan Wangji. How similar, and how different, with his easy smile and open face. Wei Ying can’t help but think that, pretty as he is, he doesn’t even compare to his Lan Zhan.

“I just wanted to return his umbrella,” Wei Ying says.

Lan Wangji’s brother -- Lan Xichen, Wei Ying remembers -- looks down at the umbrella, and then back up into Wei Ying’s face. Wei Ying wonders what he sees there, as his smile goes just slightly stale. “You must be Wei Ying,” Lan Xichen says.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says. “How did you know?”

“My brother has spoken of you.”

“Oh.” Lan Wangji talks about him? To Lan Xichen? What has he said? Wei Ying needs to get out of this conversation, fast.

“He is home today. On my orders, as it were. He got sick running around in the rain yesterday without protection.” He looks down at the umbrella under Wei Ying’s arm.

Wei Ying feels the air leave him. “He -- without -- he -- he said he had another one --”

“My brother,” Lan Xichen says with a sigh, “can be very stubborn when it comes to taking care of others. At least, when it is people he cares about.”

“But --”

“I wanted to go check on him over lunch, to make certain he’s doing alright, but, unfortunately, there’s a board meeting I can’t miss.”

“Ah--” Wei Ying says.

“I have to get back to work,” Lan Xichen says. “Have a good day, Wei Ying.”

--------

If he takes a Lyft, he can make it there in 15 minutes, check on Lan Wangji, make sure he’s okay, and make it back with plenty of time to spare. 

He stops at the corner store and picks up some juice, a pack of cold medicine, and a can of vegetable soup. He’s certain that Lan Wangji doesn’t eat canned soup, but he can’t exactly cook him a homemade meal in 20 minutes. In fairness, he couldn’t cook him a homemade meal in 2 hours either, being a complete disaster in the kitchen, but he figures canned soup is better than nothing.

He’s standing outside of Lan Wangji’s imposing apartment building before it occurs to him that, maybe, his presence will not be welcome. Lan Wangji has been avoiding him for a month. It could very well be that Wei Ying is the last person he will want to see. 

‘Well, that’s too bad,’ Wei Ying thinks. He’ll be quick about it, get out of Lan Wangji’s hair as fast as possible. He may not like it, but if he’s sick then he’ll just have to tolerate it.

He approaches the attendant and announces he’s there to see Lan Wangji. “Are you expected?” they ask.

“No,” Wei Ying says. “But, he’s sick. I’m just checking in on him.”

“One moment,” they say, and call up to Lan Wangji’s apartment. A quick conversation later, and they turn back to him. “You may go up.”

Wei Ying thanks them and heads up to the 30th floor. 

Lan Wangji is not waiting for him at the elevator. He hadn’t expected him to, but it does feel like an ominous confirmation of his condition. He knocks on the door and, when there’s no answer, he tries the handle. It is unlocked. Reasoning with himself that the attendant had announced he was coming up, Wei Ying let himself in.

The apartment is the same as he remembers it. Excruciatingly clean and white. He puts the bag down on the dining room table. His eyes skirt over a faint, pink stain on the white carpet -- from a bit of the wine he’d spilled, not able to entirely be scrubbed away. A reminder of how Wei Ying is not to be trusted, how he ruins things.

“Lan Zhan?” he calls into the apartment, not wanting to startle him. “It’s me. I heard you were sick.”

The door to the bedroom is open. He raps a knuckle lightly on the door before entering. 

Lan Wangji is in bed. He turns to look at him as Wei Ying approaches. His eyes are a little glassy, unfocused. “Lan Zhan, how are you?” Wei Ying asks.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji says, his voice rough. Wei Ying reaches out and places a hand on his forehead. He’s burning.

“Why did you give me your umbrella?” Wei Ying asks. He doesn’t mean to say it, but it spills out of him. He can’t stand it, that Lan Wangji is sick, is suffering, because of him. 

Lan Wangji makes one of those humming sounds of his, and turns, pressing his head into Wei Ying’s hand. “Haha, my hands are probably cold,” Wei Ying laughs, pretending like his heart isn’t cracking. “Stay here. I’ll go get a cool cloth. Have you had any medicine? Are you hungry?”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says again. Wei Ying isn’t sure how to interpret that. He grabs cloth from the bathroom and runs it under some cold water, squeezing the excess out, and returns and places it on Lan Wangji’s forehead. “I’ll go get you some medicine and soup,” he says to Lan Wangji. “I’ll be right back.”

But Lan Wangji reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can leave. Wei Ying’s heart is going to shatter. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “you have to let me go.”

Lan Wangji’s fever-glazed eyes look at him: bright, complicated and scared. He eases his grip, and Wei Ying slides his arm free.

He takes a bowl from the cabinet and heats the soup in the microwave. He also fills a large glass of water and grabs a couple of the tablets. He spends the 2 minutes until the microwave dings trying to pull himself back together along the fault lines being shaken open by Lan Wangji. 

When he returns to the room, Lan Wangji is dozing. He places the bowl of soup and the medicine on the bedside table. “Lan Zhan,” he says quietly. “Wake up, just for a moment. Take some medicine, and then you can go back to sleep.”

Lan Wangji makes a small sound. It almost sounds like a whimper. The guilt pierces him, an arrow lodging inside him. If he’d brought an umbrella, if he hadn’t been so careless --

“Wei Ying can go,” Lan Wangji says, his eyes closed, head turned away.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, swallowing hard. “Right. Okay, I’ll go. You’ll … you’ll let me know if you need anything? Just … I’m only a phone call away, okay?”

Lan Wangji says nothing. He is the most undone Wei Ying has ever seen him, his face shining with perspiration, his hair down and fanned out messily around him. Wei Ying can’t help it. He reaches out and brushes a strand off of his cheek, where it is sticking to the sweat. Lan Wangji’s eyes open, and he turns to him, blinking several times. “Not real,” he says.

“What’s not real?” Wei Ying asks, startled. Is Lan Wangji hallucinating? Is his fever that bad?

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, pulling his golden eyes away from him, “is not real.”

Wei Ying laughs at this. “I might be unbelievable,” he agrees, “but I’m definitely real.”

“Wei Ying is not here,” Lan Wangji mumbles, apparently to no one in particular. “Wei Ying does not like me.”

The words are a brand, searing into him. What is he talking about? How could Lan Wangji think that Wei Ying doesn’t like him? When everything, every cell, every atom of Wei Ying pulls towards Lan Wangji, an unopposable force that drags Wei Ying along in his wake, even as Wei Ying tries to free them both from it?

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, brushing his fingers along his cheek, trusting the fever to erase the memory. “I like you. You have no idea. I like you so much.”

Lan Wangji makes that small sound again. “Not real.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. He doesn’t know what to do with this. He wants to stay, to make sure Lan Wangji takes his medicine, to feed him soup, to nurse him back to health. But he can’t. For so many reasons, he can’t. He needs to get back to work. He needs to get out of here before Lan Wangji comes to his senses and realizes that Wei Ying is really there. He needs to protect what is left of his heart from breaking further.

“Take you medicine, Lan Zhan,” he says in farewell. “Feel better.”

Chapter Text

“You know,” Nie Huaisang says, pursing his lips at Wei Ying over a bowl of noodles, “it’s usually customary to actually participate in a conversation.”

Wei Ying rolls his eyes, and takes another bite. “It’s rude to talk during meals,” he says thickly.

“Nooo,” Nie Huaisang corrects him, “it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.”

Wei Ying shrugs, and makes a show of chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “What do you want me to say, Nie-xiong? I’m telling you, I haven’t even seen them in the same room together. I don’t have any hot gossip on ‘what exactly the nature of Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen’s relationship is’.”

“You would tell me if you did, though, right?”

“It would be against the PA code of ethics,” Wei Ying announces loftily.

“Since when do you have ethics?”

“Fuck you, Nie-xiong. I have ethics. I am the most ethical person.”

“Mmhmm,” Nie Huaisang says, skeptically. “Tell me again about how you got a job here?”

“Low blow,” Wei Ying says, scowling and pushing his food away.

“Sorry,” Nie Hauisang says, almost managing to actually sound sorry. “Well, if you don’t have anything to dish on the first Twin Jade of Gusu --” Wei Ying rolls his eyes at the corny nickname, a throwback to their school days “-- then maybe you know what the heck is going on with the second?”

Wei Ying frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Nie Huaisang says, tilting his head at him in confusion. Then, “Wait. Wei-xiong. Do you not know?”

“Know what?”

Wei Ying’s stomach feels fluttery. What news about Lan Wangji could Nie Huaisang possibly have? That he’s ill? That he’s getting married? That he’s hopelessly, irreparably in love with Wei Ying? No, no, that’s too outlandish. Maybe it’s that --

“He’s transferring to the West Coast.”

“What?!”

Wei Ying’s elbow slides off the table, his hand hitting the tabletop with a hard thunk that nearly sends Nie Huaisang’s bowl flying. “Watch it!” he squeaks.

“He’s transferring? He’s leaving?” Wei Ying says, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s admonishment. “Says who? When?”

“I heard it from Qin Su,” Nie Huaisang says, “she works in HR. He apparently put in the transfer request a week ago.”

“But why ?” Wei Ying asks, his voice shriveled, the room airless and suffocating.

“Well, rumor has it, ” Nie Huaisang says, leaning in conspiratorially, “that Lan Wangji is in love .”

The little air left in his lungs is sucker punched out of him. He doesn’t know how he’s still sitting there, conscious. Maybe he’ll blackout soon. That would be nice, to slip out of this reality.

“In love,” Wei Ying repeats, shellschocked. “With who?”

“Don’t know,” Nie Huaisang says with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not sure I believe it anyway. I mean, Lan Wangji? The ice man himself? So in love that he’s moving to the other side of the country? It doesn’t add up.”

“He’s not cold,” Wei Ying says, before he thinks about it.

“Oh?” Nie Huaisang says, leaning forward again, eyes sparking. “What do you know, Wei-xiong?”

The eagerness in Nie Huaisang’s voice snaps him back to reality. Nie Huaisang only sounds like that when he thinks he’s sniffed out something new and juicy. “Nothing,” Wei Ying says. “Are you done? I gotta get back to the office before the boss starts looking for me.”

--------

Wei Ying waves goodbye to Nie Huaisang, before exiting the elevator and walking over to settle in at his desk. He’s barely taken his coat off, when someone clears their throat behind him.

“Wei Wuxian, are you busy?” Jin Guangyao is grinning down at him. It is rare for him to come out to Wei Ying’s cube to speak with him. He usually calls Wei Ying into his office -- the optics of going to a low level employee, instead of having the employee come to him, are not good, after all.

“Uh, just finishing up your travel arrangements for next week,” Wei Ying says, standing as he addresses him. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Your presence is needed in conference room 812,” Jin Guangyao says.

“Sir?”

“Go on,” Jin Guangyao turns and heads back into his office.

That was … weird. Wei Ying grabs a notebook and a pen. He isn’t certain if he should bring his laptop too -- Jin Guangyao hadn’t told him what he was needed for -- but he leaves it. It can’t be anything too important, if it wasn’t on his calendar.

He hurries down to the 8th floor and finds the conference room. It looks empty from the outside. He knocks quietly and hears someone call, “Come in.”

Lan Xichen is sitting at the head of a long table. It’s one of the larger conference rooms, meant for entertaining clients when they visit. Wei Ying enters uncertainly. “Uh, I was told I was needed here?” he says. “Maybe I have the wrong room.”

“You’re in the right place,” Lan Xichen says with a smile. “Wei Wuxian. Come have a seat.” He indicates the seat next to him. Wei Ying walks over and chooses one just to the right of the one offered, putting a little more distance between himself and the man.

Lan Xichen sits there, silently observing him for a long, painful moment.

“Uh--” Wei Ying starts.

“How long have you known Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks suddenly.

Wei Ying blinks. “I’ve known Lan Zhan for -- uh -- 6? 7 years, I guess.”

Lan Xichen nods. 

“We went to high school together,” Wei Ying explains, “but we weren’t -- well, we weren’t really friends.”

“Mm,” Lan Xichen says, in a way that is startlingly similar to his brother. 

“You probably already knew that.”

“I did,” Lan Xichen agrees. There’s a beat of silence, and then, “My brother does not make friends easily.”

“Ah,” Wei Ying says.

“He’s a very solitary person,” Lan Xichen continues. “He does not open himself up. I think that, often, he does not want to.”

His eyes are on Wei Ying. They’re dark brown, nothing like his brother’s golden eyes. “Do you know why we were raised by our uncle?”

Wei Ying shakes his head slowly, thrown off by the sudden shift of the conversation.

“Our family,” Lan Xichen says, his voice quiet, “has the misfortune of loving too deeply. Our father loved our mother so much that her needs couldn’t match the fervor of his own adoration. He was so scared of losing her, that he tried to control her. To pin her down.

“Our mother was committed for the first time when Wangji was still an infant. She spent most of his life in the hospital.” Wei Ying swallows, panic beating through his veins. Why is Lan Xichen telling him this? 

“She never wanted what father wanted. She was a gentian growing in the dark. She had nowhere to spread her roots -- her attachment to the world was cramped and shallow. I loved our mother, but Wangji … he was never effusive. Even as a child. But she brought out the light in him.

“She died in the hospital, when we were children. Wangji used to wait by the door, everyday, ready to go see her. Our father disappeared from our lives, after that. Asked our uncle to take us in. He did his best. I did my best. But Wangji never seemed to come out of the shell he found himself in after our mother’s passing.”

There’s a long silence. Lan Xichen is no longer looking at Wei Ying, his eyes focused on something distant, sorrowful.

“Why are you telling me this?” Wei Ying asks at last, the sadness, the grief for Lan Wangji pressing like a hand around his throat, so his voice comes out choked and creaking.

Lan Xichen’s focus comes back to the room, and he levels his eyes on Wei Ying. “My brother,” he says, “is a man of deep passions and love.”

“I know,” Wei Ying says. 

“Do you?” Lan Xichen asks.

Wei Ying’s mouth is dry, his tongue brittle. He nods.

“He is scared of it. Scared of how completely he loves. Scared he will become like our father, locking those he loves away, trapping them with his affection.”

Silence again, filled only with the sound of Wei Ying’s blood.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen says. “Do you know why my brother asked to be transferred to our California office?”

Wei Ying can’t answer. He feels the answer creeping across his skin, swirling in his stomach, clawing at his throat. ‘ Rumor is that Lan Wangji is in love.’ Nie Huaisang’s words are scrolling like a ticker tape behind his eyes. 

Lan Wangji arriving at his door with bags full of medicine when he heard Yuan was sick.
Lan Wangji placing a cup of coffee on his desk, just the way he likes it, every morning. 
Lan Wangji responding to his teasing with a crinkle of his eyes.
Lan Wangji picking him up and bringing him safely home without question.
Lan Wangji sitting across from him at lunch, listening as Wei Ying speaks effusively about nothing. 
Lan Wangji giving him his umbrella, even though he did not have another.

And, time and again, Lan Wangji letting him go.

“I need to find Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, jumping to his feet. “I need to talk to him --”

“What will you say?” Lan Xichen asks, his voice sharp for the first time.

“I -- I need to tell him --”

Lan Xichen’s gaze is hard. Wei Ying is not cowed. He cannot be cowed, not in this moment, not with the meaning, the realization flooding through him. Lan Xichen must see it because, the next moment, his eyes soften, and he nods. 

“He is at home,” Lan Xichen says. “Jin Guangyao is not expecting you back.”

“But --”

“Go,” Lan Xichen says, smiling now in earnest. “Go and stop my stupid brother.”

Wei Ying runs, turning at the door just long enough to say, “Thank you.”

--------

Wei Ying can’t go to Lan Wangji right away. He wants to -- god he wants to -- but Yuan’s daycare only goes until 4pm, and it’s already 2:30. He can’t go over to Lan Wangji’s with a clock ticking down the seconds over his head.

He picks up Yuan early from daycare, and heads home. He’s nearly at his front door, preparing to dial Wen Ning and beg him to come babysit, when he realizes that there is someone sitting on his stoop.

Someone swathed in purple and alarmingly familiar, even with the years between them.

“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Ying says, not certain he believes it.

Jiang Cheng spins and looks at him. His face goes through an astounding series of transformations in a short period of time. First, he looks sheepish, as though he has been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Then, as he takes in Yuan, he looks confused. Next he looks angry with himself. Red-faced level of angry. This is the emotion he lands on, and it escalates from there until he is stalking, purple-faced up to Wei Ying, looking as though he is going to explode.

“Wait! Wait!” Wei Ying yells taking a step back. “At least let me get inside and put down the baby first!”

Jiang Cheng stops, looking down at Yuan, whose eyes are large and round as he stares up at him. The man makes a strange, contorted motion that Wei Ying decides is a shrug, so he proceeds to unlock the door and invite his brother inside.

“Hang on for a minute,” Wei Ying says, as he helps Yuan out of his coat and mittens. “I’ve got to get this one a snack. It’s been a whole, what? 2 hours since he ate last?”

Yuan responds by beginning to chant, “snack! snack! snack!” which somewhat settles the matter. Wei Ying gets him set up with a couple of picture books and a plate of Cheerios, as he watches Jiang Cheng’s eyes move around the home, taking it in. 

“Do you want to--?” Wei Ying gestures at the couch. Jiang Cheng glares at him in response, before sitting down -- violently. The couch creaks.

Wei Ying sits next to him, making sure to sit out of arm’s reach. 

“So that’s him?” Jiang Cheng asks, looking significantly at Yuan.

“That’s a-Yuan. My son,” Wei Ying says, a hint of warning in his voice. Jiang Cheng’s face twists a little at the word ‘son’.

Yuan, hearing his name, toddles over to them. “Baba, baba,” he says, trying to get Wei Ying’s attention. “I have a secret.”

He already has a snack, so Wei Ying is curious what the secret is this time. “What is it, a-Yuan?” he asks, bending his head down. Yuan grabs his face and brings his mouth very close to his ear before asking, at regular speaking volume, “Baba who is purple man?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wei Ying sees Jiang Cheng’s head jerk up a little as he splutters. “A-Yuan, that is your shufu!” Wei Ying answers, injecting as much enthusiasm into his voice as he can, trying to get the little boy excited. “Say hi to your shufu!”

Yuan turns and looks at Jiang Cheng skeptically, before taking Wei Ying’s face in his hands again and saying into his ear, “Baba, why is shufu angry?”

Wei Ying bursts into laughter, Yuan joining in. Jiang Cheng yells, “Of course you wouldn’t be teaching your kid any manners!” but his face is changing back to red from purple, so Wei Ying can tell he isn’t really angry. 

“Yuan,” Wei Ying says at last, once he is able to catch his breath, “say hi to shufu nicely.”

“Hi shufu!” Yuan says, walking over to Jiang Cheng and climbing up onto the couch, into his lap, and giving him a hug. 

Jiang Cheng turns a startled expression on Wei Ying, then on Yuan. “Hey, kid,” he says, patting his head a little awkwardly.

“I’m playing bunnies!” Yuan announces, locking Jiang Cheng in with a stare as though waiting for a reply.

“That’s … that’s good,” Jiang Cheng manages, his face a little panicked. 

“Alright, go play bunnies, a-Yuan. Shufu and I have to have a grown-up talk.”

Yuan, knowing by now that ‘grown-up talk’ means something boring that doesn’t involve playing, or snacks, or Paw Patrol, climbs off of Jiang Cheng and goes back to his toys.

“A-jie told me you had a kid,” Jiang Cheng says as he watches Yuan walk away, “but I didn’t really think … I couldn’t imagine it.”

“No need to imagine,” Wei Ying says. “He’s real. In the flesh.”

“Obviously!” Jiang Cheng snaps back at him. 

Wei Ying watches him, waiting, but it seems that whatever brought Jiang Cheng here, he’s not too eager to talk about it. Unfortunately, Wei Ying has rather a lot to do tonight.

“Why are you here?” he asks, too impatient, too curious to be delicate. Besides, it’s Jiang Cheng.

“Can’t a guy visit his own brother?” Jiang Cheng scowls.

“Sure,” Wei Ying says slowly, “except you haven’t even spoken to me in over two years.”

“And whose fault is that?” 

So it’s going to be that kind of conversation. Wei Ying sighs. “I know whose fault it is, Jiang Cheng. I didn’t deny it then, I don’t deny it now. I don’t even blame Madam Yu for kicking me out of the family. I mean, I almost murdered a guy.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Jiang Cheng cuts in. “You punched him.”

“I punched him through a glass table and broke his jaw.”

“Well it’s not like you pulled a knife on him! Nobody fucking died.”

“Hey!” Wei Ying says, looking significantly at Yuan, who is blessedly absorbed in ‘reading’ a story to his chicken. 

Jiang Cheng has the grace to look abashed, but doesn’t apologize. “Anyway,” he says, “The way he was talking to Jiang Yanli... I would’ve done it if you hadn’t.”

“Well then, let’s just both be grateful that it was me,” Wei Ying says lightly. “I was already on Madam Yu’s bad side, so no harm done!”

“Tell that to a-jie,” Jiang Cheng says with a glare. Then, “She had a baby.”

“I know,” Wei Ying says.

“You know,” Jiang Cheng agrees, his voice climbing again. “And you didn’t call.”

“I--”

“You didn’t text.”

“I--”

“You didn’t write.”

“I--!”

“After she begged that peacock to get that job for you! You didn’t even call to congratulate her on having a baby ! Do you know how hard it was to get him to agree, considering you almost killed him?”

“I thought we agreed that it wasn’t an almost murder?” Wei Ying retorts. “And besides. He’s obsessed with jiejie. She probably barely even had to ask.”

“You made her cry, Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng yells at full volume.

“No yelling!” Yuan yells back.

Wei Ying wants to laugh, but Jiang Cheng’s words stop him. “She cried?”

“Of course she fu-- of course she cried, you idiot! She had a baby and you didn’t say anything!”

“How could I?” Wei Ying asks desperately. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant! Nobody told me!”

“She tried to tell you, but your dumb ass blocked her! She couldn’t reach you! No one could. That’s the whole reason I’m here!”

Wei Ying let’s the swearing go this time, because he’s too busy processing this to scold him. “But Madam Yu---”

“Who cares?” Jiang Cheng snarls. “Who cares what she thinks? You never cared!”

“You did!” Wei Ying yells back.

“Baba, no yelling!”

Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying glower at each other across the couch.

“You didn’t come back,” Jiang Cheng says at last, breaking eye contact. “You just left and never came back.”

“Nobody wanted me back.”

“You’re such an idiot! Of course we did!” Jiang Cheng says, and then, realizing he’s just admitted to wanting Wei Ying around, turns crimson and looks staunchly in the opposite direction.

Wei Ying can’t help it. “Aw, didi,” he needles. “Did you miss me? Were you lonely without your gege?”

“Shut up! I’m not your didi!”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying agrees, choosing not to tease him too much just now. “So what is this? What do you want?”

Jiang Cheng grimaces, as though the words are actually bitter in his mouth. “Come home,” he says.

“This is my home,” Wei Ying says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You know what I mean! Come home and see Jiang Yanli. She misses you and wants you to meet the baby. For some reason.”

“I don’t--”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng barks. “Shut up! Call her and go visit. If you make her cry again, I’ll break your legs.”

Wei Ying feels a swell of affection for his brother. He’s missed this. He doesn’t know if he deserves it, but god, he misses it. 

“Fine,” he says. “Now, how would you like to babysit?”

--------

In the end, Jiang Cheng flat out refuses to babysit. He does, however, stick around and get roped into a game of “dragon” with Yuan while they wait for Wen Ning. Wei Ying feels warm and gratified as he watches his brother allow himself to be tackled by the 3-year-old, making a show of rolling in agony while Yuan screeches in delight.

When Wen Ning arrives, his eyes go wide as he sees Jiang Cheng there, but Wei Ying doesn’t have time to explain.

“Thanks, Wen Ning!” he says. “Order anything you want, I’ve left some money on the table! You can use my bed!”

“Wait, where are you going that you’re going to be out all night?” Jiang Cheng asks, wrestling himself around onto his stomach to glare after Wei Ying from the floor. 

“Love waits for no man, didi!” Wei Ying calls, and runs off, jumping into his car, and speeding his way to Lan Wangji.

--------

His confidence has evaporated by the time he reaches Lan Wangji’s building. He stares up at it, imagining Lan Wangji inside, preparing for a move to the other side of the country, thousand of miles away from Wei Ying. 

He could be wrong about this. He could be so wrong about this, Lan Xichen could be wrong about this. If he’s wrong, if Lan Wangji isn’t in love with him -- and, the more he thinks about it, the more preposterous it sounds -- then…

...then what? Then Lan Wangji moves across the country and Wei Ying never sees him again? He’s already moving across the country, where Wei Ying will never see him again.

He steels himself and dials Lan Wangji's number. 

“Wei Ying?”

The voice is behind him, and he drops his phone in surprise. It falls to the ground with an ominous crunching sound. “Shit!” Wei Ying says reflexively. This is not the first time this has happened.

He bends down to pick up the phone, which, thankfully, gives him an extra moment to catch his breath and solidify his resolve, before he stands and faces Lan Wangji.

The resolve melts away the moment he is looking at him. Lan Wangji is, as always, perfect. He’s standing before Wei Ying, in his long cream colored coat, his hair like the night sky falling black and glistening around his shoulders. His eyes, slightly wide with surprise, rimmed in long dark lashes, his rose pink lips parted, just barely, as he takes in Wei Ying.

Wei Ying can only imagine what a sight he makes. He’s standing outside, without a coat, his button-up shirt open, revealing his slightly too small high school trivia team tank top underneath. He’d pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun, but it’s already half loose around his face, and he knows he has weeks-old circles under his eyes, having swapped sleep for caffeine over a month ago.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, equipping his best please-don’t-hate-me smile. “Can I come up?”

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji leads Wei Ying into his apartment in silence. The anxiety itches through Wei Ying’s blood like venom, and he wonders, somewhat idly, if this is what dying feels like.

He walks into the apartment behind Lan Wangji, but stops just inside the doorway. “Oh,” he says, the surprise escaping him. The apartment is in boxes. It makes it all so much more real. Lan Wangji isn’t just thinking about moving, it’s not just a vague consideration. He’s leaving. He’s planning to leave, he’s halfway out the door already.

Wei Ying has come so close to missing him. He swallows hard.

“Packing already?” he says, trying to keep his voice casual. “Did they approve the transfer then? I didn’t know, nobody said …”

Lan Wangji turns and looks at him where he’s standing by the door. Wei Ying quickly removes his shoes and moves the rest of the way into the apartment.

“Can we sit?” Wei Ying asks. “I wanted to talk to you and … and I think it’s better if we’re sitting. It’s definitely better if I’m sitting. Let’s sit?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and walks over and falls onto the couch, immediately burying his face in the arm rest. After a moment, he feels the cushions shift as Lan Wangji takes a  seat on the opposite end. Wei Ying takes several deep breaths, trying to quiet the horrible, riotous voices in his head, telling him to run, get out of there, before it’s too late--

‘Too late for what ?’ he thinks to them savagely. ‘There is no too late. I’m already too late. There’s only now.’

Still, he stays like that for what must be several long minutes, before he feels the weight on the couch shift again, and Lan Wangji stands. 

“Wait--!” Wei Ying says, sitting up quickly and grabbing at him, panicking that he’s missing the moment, that he’s messing this up.

Lan Wangji stops, his arm in Wei Ying’s hand, turning to him. “I will be right back,” he says.

Wei Ying flushes, and nods. Lan Wangji looks at where Wei Ying is still holding him. “Ah, sorry!” Wei Ying says, and lets go.

Lan Wangji disappears into the kitchen, and returns a moment later with a glass of water, which he hands over to Wei Ying. Wei Ying accepts it, a little choked at the tenderness. “Thanks,” he says, his voice tight.

He takes a sip, swallowing around the lump. It helps a little. Lan Wangji is sitting again, closer now, his body angled towards him, his gaze heavy with the weight of concern. Wei Ying stares down at his knees and shakes his head. “I’m … I’m making a mess of this,” he says. “I mean, I’m me. Of course I’m making a mess of it.” He laughs. “Fuck. Lan Zhan,” he looks up, and his eyes lock with Lan Wangji’s. He sucks in a breath, heat blossoming up his neck into his face.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. “What is it?”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, can you just --” Wei Ying makes a spinning motion with his fingers. “Can you turn around? Don’t look at me. I can’t say it if you’re looking at me.”

Lan Wangji blinks, just once, and then turns and faces away from him. He’s wearing a thin blue t-shirt, and the muscles of his back visible through the fabric. Wei Ying imagine reaching out and tracing the valleys with his fingers.

Maybe it’s not actually easier this way.

Well, Wei Ying will have to try.

“I heard you were leaving,” he starts, wishing that he’d figured out what he wanted to say earlier, before he got here. “I found out today. And I. Um.” He’s struggling. He’s not good at this. He can talk about anything -- anything -- but this. Feelings. The things he wants, the things he really wants. “Lan Zhan,” he tries again, and lets himself ask what he really wants to know, “why are you leaving?”

Lan Wangji’s back stiffens -- a slight flexing of the muscles along his spine, sitting him up even straighter than before. He clears his throat before he answers. “I will be able to do my work from California without issue.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. He can’t stop saying his name, as though it were a spell to keep Lan Wangji here, with him. “Lan Zhan, that’s not what I asked.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t answer.

“The rumor,” Wei Ying says, facing his back fully, “is that Lan Wangji has fallen in love.”

Lan Wangji whirls around and looks at him, his eyes wide. It is the most panicked Wei Ying has ever seen him, and it shoots through him like lightning, threads of guilt and hope and desire tangling throughout him.

“They say Lan Wangji is going to California to be with the one he loves,” Wei Ying says, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Lan Wangji.

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji says.

Emboldened, Wei Ying leans in towards him, brushing their knees together. Lan Wangji shudders a little. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, his voice barely a whisper. “Don’t go to California,” he puts his hand on Lan Wangji’s knee. “Stay here. I’ll make it worth it for you.” He moves his hand slowly up his thigh.

Lan Wangji stands, so suddenly that Wei Ying tips forward, just catching himself before he falls. “Wei Ying,” he says, his tone dark. “Do not.”

His face is hard, his jaw clenched. 

Wei Ying looks at him, and the fantasy breaks, reality shuttering down around him. So. He was right all along -- he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have come. This isn’t what he’d hoped. Lan Xichen was mistaken: Lan Wangji didn’t want him. He’d come here, unannounced, and thrown himself at someone who wanted nothing to do with him.

Wei Ying closes his eyes, inhales once deeply through his nose, and stands.

“Alright. I get it,” he says. “Sorry for this. I’ll be going.”

“Wei Ying--”

“Don’t!” Wei Ying snaps. It’s not even anger. It’s all of it. Every emotion he’s had today -- sadness, grief, hope, fear, and love, so much love -- forcing its way out of him. It is a sob. “Don’t, Lan Zhan. Don’t, please. I’m sorry. I was stupid, I was so stupid. I just thought -- you’re leaving, and I just thought, that I might -- that you might -- no. No, forget it. I’m going.”

“Wei Ying, why --” Wei Ying sees the hand reaching out, sees Lan Wangji reaching out for him. But he stops short, the arm dropping back to his side. “Goodbye, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying crams his feet into his shoes and throws himself out the door. He’s got to get out of here, before he shatters completely. He needs to get to his car, get home, and get to his bed to have a proper breakdown.

Oh. Except, Wen Ning is in his bed. He’s told Wen Ning to sleep in his bed, so sure of himself, so sure of what was going to happen. He laughs bitterly. It’s so stupid, he’s so stupid. Maybe not home then. A bar. Definitely a bar. Wherever, anywhere, so long as he leaves. He needs to leave, to get away, to never bother Lan Wangji again.

He makes it to the elevator, before he realizes what is happening. And then.

He stops. 

‘No’, Wei Ying thinks.

“No,” Wei Ying says.

And then, he starts walking, back to the apartment, back through the open door. He comes back, and he looks at Lan Wangji. The man is standing there, exactly where he’d left him, exactly where he’d stood watching Wei Ying leave, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

He crosses to Lan Wangji, and grabs his hand. “Lan Zhan,” he says.

“Wei Ying--” Lan Wangji starts, but Wei Ying squeezes his hand.

“Lan Zhan,” he says again. “Do you want me to go?”

Lan Wangji is staring at where Wei Ying is holding his hand. He raises his eyes to Wei Ying’s face. “Lan Zhan, talk to me. Do you want me to? Should I go?”

He swallows. “Whatever Wei Ying wants.”

“Look at me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, pointlessly. Lan Wangji is looking at him. Looking at him with such heat, that Wei Ying worries he might burst into flames. “I want to stay.”

--------

Wei Ying has kissed his fair share of people. High school girlfriends. Boys he’d experimented with back when he was still figuring things out. Strangers at clubs. Dates that ended well. Dates that ended poorly. He’s kissed, and he’s been kissed, enough so that he thinks he knows what kissing is.

He is wrong. 

He stares into Lan Wangji’s eyes, holding his hand, and says to him, “I want to stay.”

He sees it happen. He sees the pupils dilate, the dark circles swallowing the gold, sees him surge forward, closing the distance, sees his eyes lock onto Wei Ying’s lips.

And then, he doesn’t see. His eyes are closed, and he can’t do anything but feel.

Lan Wangji’s arm circles Wei Ying’s waist and pulls them flush together. His other hand, free from Wei Ying’s now, reaches up to Wei Ying’s face, tenderly, delicately despite the ferocity with which he is being pressed into Lan Wangji, and guides their mouths together.

The kiss itself is sure. It is gentle, but hungry against his mouth, asking for more. Wei Ying whimpers into it, his hands reaching up and grasping Lan Wangji’s shoulders, leveraging himself deeper into the kiss, answering the plea there, the need with a resounding yes , yes take more, take everything.

Lan Wangji pulls back, breaking their mouth apart. Wei Ying whines, leaning forward and pressing another kiss to his mouth. “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangi says, his voice shaking.

Wei Ying sighs and takes a half step back. Lan Wangji’s arm tightens, not letting him go too far. “Wei Ying,” he says, looking at him until Wei Ying thinks that being looked at is almost as good as kissing. Almost. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says after the silence, the moment of not being kissed, goes on too long. “If you don’t kiss me again soon, I’m going to start feeling used, you know. I might think you’re just messing with me, and I’ll have to take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again. “I -- this is not casual for me.”

Wei Ying was not expecting that. He blinks at him, and reaches up and tugs on his very red ears. “What are you thinking, Lan Zhan?” he says. “You think this is casual for me? Do you have eyes, Lan Zhan? Look at me. I’ve rushed over at the first hint that you’re leaving. I throw myself at you. I’m kissing you. Can you not know?”

Lan Zhan looks at him and shakes his head.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, laughing. “I’m in love with you. I’m completely in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. For -- for months! I don’t know. For years, maybe. It’s hard to tell, I’m not sure when it started. I think maybe I’ve always been in love with you, even before I knew you. Wei Ying was just made to love Lan Zhan. I --”

He can’t speak, because Lan Wangji has caught him again, and this time the kiss is brutal, the hard pressure of their mouths against each other, Lan Wangji crushing their bodies together. Wei Ying opens to him, and Lan Wangji pushes in, his tongue in Wei Ying’s mouth, the hand on Wei Ying’s face sliding up into his hair and gripping hard. Wei Ying yelps a little into the kiss, but Lan Wangji doesn’t stop, and Wei Ying doesn’t want him to. He feels dizzy, his hand scrambling around Lan Wangji’s back, looking for purchase, digging his fingertips into the firm muscle as Lan Wangji presses down and he bows beneath him.

After what might be hours, or maybe seconds, they break apart again to breathe, Lan Wangji resting his forehead heavily against Wei Ying’s. “I love you,” Lan Wangji says. “Always loved you. Always loved Wei Ying.” 

Wei Ying laughs and presses it into Lan Wangji’s lips wetly, drunk on the moment. “We are so stupid,” he says into his mouth. He feels Lan Wangji’s lips curl into a smile as he kisses him again.

--------

Wei Ying spends the night.

When he wakes up the next morning, he is deliciously sore and content in a way he has never known. He's surprised he isn't purring.

His limbs are wrapped around Lan Wangji. This time, there is no toddler between them. He nuzzles into the man's chest and sighs happily.

"Good morning," Lan Wangji's deep voice greets him.

"Shh, no talking," Wei Ying says, smooshing his face into Lan Wangji. "I'm still asleep. Don't wake your boyfriend, Lan Zhan, it's rude."

He hadn't meant to say it. They haven't talked about what exactly they are to each other. They rather forgotten about talking after the whole “I love you” bit. Pleasantly embarrassed heat floods Wei Ying’s body when he thinks about it. Still, Lan Wangji had said that this wasn't casual for him, but that didn't mean he wanted Wei Ying to be his boyfriend. Maybe he’d prefer to just not have a label for this--

"Your boyfriend needs to get ready for work.”

The word thrills through Wei Ying. “Nooo,” he whines, and wraps himself tighter around Lan Wangji, so he is fully koala-ing to his side. “Work is stupid. So stupid. Stay in bed with your boyfriend. Who is not stupid. Lan Zhan, if you stay, I’ll show you how not stupid I am. I can do such clever things --”

“I am aware,” Lan Wangji says, and there’s something hot and dangerous in his voice that makes Wei Ying shiver.

Wei Ying turns his face and presses his lips into Lan Wangji’s chest. The man’s hand on Wei Ying's back clutches at him. It’s a thrill to be so wanted. He begins kissing down his chest, his stomach -- wet, open-mouthed kisses. Gentle at first, but harder, sucking bruises into him as he goes.

“Wei Ying--” Lan Wangji rasps. “I -- must tell them I am not transferring.”

Wei Ying hums. “Yeah, you must,” he agrees, “but you can be a little late.”

--------

As it turns out, Lan Wangji won’t even have to be late, despite Wei Ying’s morning diversion. Not by any normal human standards anyway. “5am, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying pouts as Lan Wangji hands him a fresh toothbrush and scoots him towards the bathroom. “Who wakes up at 5am? That’s criminal. You’re a criminal. You belong in jail.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says. “I will turn myself in. It is the right thing to do.”

“Damn straight it is,” Wei Ying mutters.

“Wei Ying must visit me,” Lan Wangji says. “Or I will miss him too much.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying whines through a mouthful of toothpaste. “It’s too early to say things like that!”

Lan Wangji leans in and kisses his forehead. “You started it,” he smiles, “boyfriend.”

--------

Wei Ying also has to go to work. It’s an unpleasant prospect, because it means not spending the whole day in Lan Wangji’s bed. Or on his couch. Or in his kitchen. Or, really, wherever Lan Wangji wants. 

But it’s not just that.

They go to Wei Ying’s home together to pick up Yuan for daycare and thank Wen Ning. Wen Ning is happy but, gratifyingly, not surprised to see Lan Wangji. Yuan is, of course, ecstatic.

“Gege!” he says, and launches himself at Lan Wangji, who bends down and scoops him up in one arm without hesitation. Wei Ying’s heart swells. He doesn’t think his love for him will ever stop growing.

“Your bunnies are doing well,” Wen Ning says to him. “I hope you come visit them again soon. Would you like to see some photos I took?”

Lan Wangji nods, and Wen Ning takes out his phone and shows him several photos. The bunnies are snuggled together in most of them, tucked up against each other like a fluffy yin yang. In one photo, they are nose to nose, both nibbling on the same piece of lettuce. 

“They appear to be bonded,” Lan Wangji says.

“That’s really freaking cute, Wen Ning,” Wei Ying gushes. “Do you pose them?”

“No,” Wen Ning says, smiling. “They’re just like that. They’re like a pair of lovebirds.”

Wei Ying laughs at that. “Careful, Wen Ning! You know bunnies are infamous for --” he looks at Yuan, who is playing with Lan Wangji’s hair, a little sleepily, “making more bunnies.”

Wen Ning blushes, and takes his phone back. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem with these two,” he says bashfully. Wei Ying looks at him questioningly, and he clarifies, “They’re both boys.”

--------

They approach the office building, and Wei Ying’s heart is jackhammering against his ribcage. He’s quiet. 

Lan Wangji gives him a concerned look, but Wei Ying just shakes his head a little, trying to communicate ‘I’m fine’ without, actually, being fine enough to say the words.

Wei Ying is walking a little apart from Lan Wangji. He wants to be plastered to him, holding his hand, clutching to his arm, being brazen and shameless in their love. But he stands a few feet away, walking in calmly, as though nothing at all has changed.

They take the elevator together. It’s godawful early, so the building is mostly empty. The other rider gets off on the 3rd floor. As the doors slide shut and they are alone, Lan Wangji reaches out and, just for a moment, takes Wei Ying’s fingers in his hand and squeezes them. 

“I will see you after work,” he says, as the doors open on the 6th floor and he exits. 

“Okay,” Wei Ying says, “have a good day.”

Jin Guangyao has not arrived yet, by the time Wei Ying gets to his desk. He turns on the computer, and goes digging through his emails. It takes him a while to find it, but once he does he opens it up and starts reading through the entirety of the Employee Handbook. 

--------

“Good news, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says as he runs up to him outside the building after work. “Now that you’re not my boss, we’re allowed to date!”

“I am aware,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying slips his arm through Lan Wangji’s and lays his head against his shoulder as they walk. 

“You knew? I was freaking out! I thought, for sure, we were going to have to hide this. I was prepared to, I’d have a whole sordid secret office romance with you, you know. Honestly, it’s a little bit of a let down that we don’t have to--”

Lan Wangji stops walking, and reels Wei Ying into him, kissing him tenderly on the lips. It is a chaste kiss, nothing like the demanding, heavy kissing from the night before, or earlier this morning. But it is so sweet, so loving, that Wei Ying’s knees shake.

“Alright, point taken,” he says as Lan Wangji releases him, and he blinks rapidly to try to reboot his brain. “This is better. This is definitely better.”

Lan Wangji smiles -- an actual twitch at the corner of his mouth! -- and they continue walking.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “Is that why you transferred me? So that this could happen?”

Lan Wangji is silent, as though considering his words carefully. “No,” he says at last, and he looks at little pained by it. “I was under the impression that Wei Ying would prefer not to work with me.”

“What?!” Wei Ying squeaks, his voice cracking. Which is embarrassing, but moving on. “Lan Zhan! How could you think that?”

“Wei Ying … said he did not like me,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying makes a sound of protest, he certainly never said anything of the sort!, but Lan Wangji continues. “When you left that morning and then didn’t come into work -- I thought you were angry. That I had made things uncomfortable for you. I didn’t want that, so I asked brother to reassign you.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, leaning into his side, “I was scared. I was scared because I liked you so much that I was worried that I was going to do something stupid. I was scared that I’d already done something stupid. I mean, I slept in my boss’s bed !” He laughs. It’s so silly now, when he thinks back on all the times he’s been tormented by this idea. “Who knew that the whole time my boss was trying to seduce me?” he laughs.

“Not seduce you,” Lan Wangji replies. “I did not believe Wei Ying would ever -- not seduce you.”

“Then what were you doing, Lan Zhan? Bringing my kid medicine, those daily coffees, the umbrella, all of it. What were you doing if you weren’t trying to seduce me?”

They’re outside of Yuan’s daycare now. They stop, and Lan Wangji looks at him seriously. “Wanted to make Wei Ying happy,” he answers. Like it’s just that simple, it’s just that obvious.

Wei Ying groans and allows himself to press a kiss into Lan Wangji’s cheek. “You’re going to kill me. You’re the worst. You’re the absolute best, the most amazing, but you’re the worst. I’m going to die.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says, patting his shoulder, and reaching out to open the door. “Do not die.”

--------

Lan Wangji is sitting on the floor with Yuan, reading him a book. Actually reading him a book. Not making up stories to go along with the pictures like Wei Ying does. It is one of the board books that Lan Wangji had gifted to them, made to teach the alphabet. “This is the letter ‘d’,” Lan Wangji explains. “The letter ‘d’ is in the word ‘dog’. ‘Debbie the dog dances everyday.”

“Do not read to my kid about ‘dogs’, Lan Wangji!” Wei Ying scolds from the couch. “Dogs are forbidden!”

Lan Wangji doesn’t rise to the bait, continuing to focus his attention on Yuan. Wei Ying tries not to be jealous. He can’t be jealous of a baby .

Speaking of.

“Are you good here for a moment?” Wei Ying asks. “There’s something I have to do.”

Lan Wangji nods. Wei Ying brushes his hand through the man’s hair before he moves into the bedroom.

He stands in the doorway and takes out his phone -- it is cracked, from where he dropped it, but, thankfully, it still works -- and scrolls through his contacts. His thumb presses down on one name until he is prompted to unblock the number.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes already stinging with tears, and presses the call button.

It rings twice before her voice is in his ear.

“A-Xian? Is it you?” she sounds beautiful, surprised, and Wei Ying is so strangled by it for a second that he can’t reply.

"Hey, a-jie," he manages at last. He feels familiar panic building in him; the urge to get away, to hang up, to spare her the chaos that is Wei Ying. He breathes in, and looks out at the two people he loves the most sitting happily together in his home -- and he doesn’t run.

"Congratulations,” he says, “When do I get to come and meet my nephew?"

Chapter Text

“I don’t know why I have to wear this,” Wei Ying complains, not for the first time. “This is so stupid. It’s just a dumb ceremony, I don’t know why everyone is making such a big deal out of it.”

“Because they love you,” Jiang Yanli says to him sweetly, accentuated by a rough tug on his hair that she is attempting to braid into place. “Besides, it’s tradition.”

“Tradition is stupid,” Wei Ying pouts. “It’s hot, I’m going to get all sweaty and gross. Plus, it’s going to take forever . You don’t understand what it’s like, being a ‘Wei!’ Miss First-half-of-the-Alphabet will never know the pain!”

“A-Xian is very brave for enduring it,” she says. She takes the hat from his hands and pins it neatly onto his head, then gives him a pat to let him know she’s done. “Do it for me, a-Xian. And for Lan Wangji. You know how excited he is.”

Wei Ying snorts, meaning to say that Lan Wangji doesn’t get excited about things. Jiang Yanli sees right through him, of course. She knows, as well as he does, how happy and proud Lan Wangji is.

“Are they there already? Did they get seats?” Wei Ying asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t care. He, of course, cares a lot.

“Yep, they got seats and have one saved for Zixuan and me. Jiang Cheng arrived already too.”

“Jiang Cheng is there? With Lan Zhan? Alone?” he looks at his sister with wide eyes. “A-jie, you’ve got to go and stop them. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

She laughs, and stands, helping him to his feet as well. “A-Yuan is there to keep them in check,” she says. “I’m sure he’s up to the task.”

Wei Ying relaxes a little. “He’s a pretty impressive kid, isn’t he?”

“Mm,” she says, “he is. Ready?”

“Ready,” he says. 

Jiang Yanli heads to the ceremony with Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling. Jin Ling has grown into a chubby, dour 4-year-old, with a scowl that reminds Wei Ying so much of Jiang Cheng, it’s all he can do not to laugh every time he sees him. Yuan was cuter, of course, but Jin Ling is a close second.

He waves them off to find their seats, before taking his spot near the back of a long line of black-robed students.

--------

“Wei, Ying,” the dean calls. Wei Ying takes the stage to a smattering of polite applause. He looks out over the crowd and finds them right away. A row of faces, the happiest in the crowd -- perhaps not to the untrained eye, he thinks. Jiang Yanli and Yuan are certainly smiling widely, happily, their faces sunbeams breaking through a white cloud. Lan Wangji is smiling in his own, quiet way, although he might as well be hollering and waving his arms, it’s so clear to Wei Ying. Jiang Cheng is, of course, making a show of looking bored and unhappy, which Wei Ying knows is a lie, and Jin Zixuan is legitimately uninterested in the proceedings, focusing his attention on his squirming son. 

Wei Ying beams at them as he takes his degree and shakes the dean’s hand. He turns to the crowd and holds it overhead in one hand, posing dramatically. He hears Yuan and Jiang Yanli’s laughter, Jiang Cheng’s loud scoff, before he is ushered off the stage.

He has to go back to his seat, wait out the rest of the ceremony. It is nearly over -- the one good thing about being a ‘w’. As he crosses back to the chairs in the student section, his eyes meet Lan Wangji’s and he goes breathless. Even after all this time, after years, those eyes still make him feel light-headed, like there isn’t enough air. 

Yuan, sitting next to Lan Wangji, gives him an enthusiastic double thumbs up, which Wei Ying excitedly returns. 

Later, they’ll all go to dinner to celebrate. He’ll argue loudly with Jiang Cheng as Jiang Yanli admonishes them to be nice. There will be tense moments between Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng, between Jin Zixuan and … well, everybody. Yuan will play with his cousin, who will be fussy and unmanageable. In short, it will be family. Wei Ying’s perfect family.

The whole time, Lan Wangji will hold his hand under the table, radiating pride for Wei Ying, running his thumb over the ring there -- the one he gave him that morning. He hasn’t told anyone yet. He wants to keep it a secret, their secret, just a little longer.