Work Text:
Lan Zhan carefully pokes at the control screen on the washer. Pre-wash, delicate, heavy soil, cold temp, low spin, extra rinse. He frowns through the window into the bowels of the machine as the drum starts to roll, filling with water, sending all the muddy black clothes inside spinning.
"I could do that," Wei Ying says from the doorway of the utility room, wringing his hands together, fetchingly wrapped in a (now) dirty towel that droops at his waist.
"Hm." He looks over at the love of his life...both of them, actually, if in different ways. Even as a full grown adult, A-Yuan is too short to look over Wei Ying's shoulder so is tilted off to the side, peeking around him instead. It surprises Lan Zhan on an irregular and unwelcome basis how small his son is, and why. It doesn't matter, and the malnutrition happened long before Lan Zhan met the boy for the first time, but he feels the failure as any parent would.
He blinks and returns to the moment, with husband and son looking very meek and regretful in the doorway. Sizhui, at least, has already washed up and changed into clean clothes and is not parading around half naked, trailing the muck of a mildly disastrous (if ultimately successful) impromptu night hunt.
"I will do the laundry," Lan Zhan says, not unkindly.
"Father—" A-Yuan starts, only to cut himself short when Wei Ying elbows him.
"It was my fault! I should do the laundry!" Wei Ying almost yells, and starts pushing A-Yuan back into the kitchen, as if trying to protect him from a terrible beast.
Oh, the drama.
Lan Zhan sighs. "No. You will not do the laundry, Wei Ying. I do the laundry."
"It was the one time, and I said I'm sorry! That fancy machine has too many settings!"
"The settings had nothing to do with you putting your red underwear in with all of my shirts."
"Ah. Pink is a very becoming color on you, Lan Zhan!"
It is, in fact, a very becoming color on Lan Zhan. It is just not a color he would choose for himself, much less enjoy on his previously pristinely white shirts, all of which were supposed to be dry cleaned anyway. Not to mention the delicate, custom blue embroidery on the collars turned purple and Lan Zhan has his limits, most of which wear purple and are named Jiang Cheng.
He walks over and cradles Wei Ying's face in his hands and kisses him softly.
Wei Ying sways back, eyes glassy. "Okay. You can do the laundry. I'll reward you for being such a caring husband, cleaning up my terrible muddy messes, huh?" He loops his arms over Lan Zhan's shoulders.
Lan Zhan nods, dropping his hands to the towel around Wei Ying's waist. A-Yuan squeaks something about meeting up with Jingyi and practically flies out the front door, keys jangling. Lan Zhan will text him later when it is "safe" to come home. When he and Wei Ying are, perhaps, fully dressed again in clean clothes.