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As they stand outside of Jiang Yanli’s new apartment complex, Jin Zixuan hands him the box of tea leaves, smooths the front of his shirt, and then looks at Meng Yao. His expression is not unlike that of a man on the verge of a breakdown.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” He asks, and Meng Yao glances as the expensive wooden box holding half a dozen types of tea. He knows already that it contains Jiang Yanli’s favorite tea, as well as the favorites of her brothers’, because he was the one who picked it up and picked it out. He doesn’t like to brag - it’s terribly uncouth - but Meng Yao is the expert of gift giving, and a housewarming gift is hardly high stakes.
“Of course she’ll love it,” he reassures his brother with a smile. Zixuan tries to smile back, but comes out looking more like a grimace. Meng Yao pats his shoulder with his free hand and then turns to go up the steps, not giving him any time to have a breakdown. His brother follows him, his face grim, as if Meng Yao is leading him to his death.
“Are you sure? ” He asks, and Meng Yao bites back a sigh. If he has to answer this question one more time, he thinks that he might just leave the apartment with one less sibling.
“She invited you, yes?”
“Of course, I didn’t invite myself.”
“Then she’ll just be happy that you’re here at all.” Meng Yao stops and turns in the stairwell to look down on his brother. At this height, Zixuan looks a lot younger than he usually does and a lot less sure of himself than usual. It’s almost cute how much he likes Jiang Yanli, that his usual facade of pomposity could not survive a simple dinner, but Meng Yao only has so much room for thinking his brother was cute before his patience runs thin.
“This is Jiang Yanli,” he says, with a soft sigh. “When has she ever held a negative opinion in her entire life?”
“Jin Zixun,” his brother retorts and, ah, yeah. He doesn’t really need to elaborate, as both brothers wince at the reminder of their annoying, asshole cousin. He picked a fight with Jiang Yanli’s younger brother the year they graduated and he had never seen someone take down somebody without raising their voice the way she had. Meng Yao has always liked her, but he had gained a lot of respect for her that day.
“As long as you don’t tell Wei Wuxian he’s an affront to the Jiang’s good name, I think you’ll probably be fine,” Meng Yao muses, and his brother takes a deep breath, calming himself.
“You’re right,” he says, after he exhales. “I can do this.”
“That’s the spirit!” Meng Yao pushes the tea back at him and takes a step back, gesturing for his brother to go first. He looks at him, confused.
“Trust me,” he says, and to his relief Zixuan just nods. He steps around Meng Yao, clutching the tea like it’s a lifeline, and steps onto the second floor.
It’s easy to spot Jiang Yanli’s apartment: a hand painted placard hangs on her door, beautiful lotus flowers surrounding the character for ‘Jiang’, written in a lopsided and messy script that could only belong to Wei Ying. Even if Meng Yao had forgotten her address, the little touches like the placard and the welcome mat outside of her home would have told him immediately. His brother lifts his hand and knocks, uncertain at first but more sure the second and third time. They wait with bated breath, and Meng Yao can almost see his brother coming apart at the seams.
“It’ll be okay,” he says quietly, and Zixuan just has time to dart his eyes to him before the door is opening and Jiang Yanli is standing in front of them. She smiles sweetly at the brothers and Zixuan’s face immediately goes red. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again and visibly swallows. He thrusts the box of tea leaves forward and bows, as if he was offering something to an empress. Jiang Yanli’s expression flits through several emotions - shock, pleased, amusement - before settling somewhere near fond.
“This is for you,” Jin Zixuan says, holding the box a little higher, eyes on the ground. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home.”
Jiang Yanli covers her mouth with her hand, obviously stifling a laugh.
“A-Xuan,” she says, admonishing, and Meng Yao’s eyebrows shoot up at the familiar nickname. “You didn’t have to bring me a gift.”
“Of course I did!” Jin Zixuan blurts, snapping back up. “It’s the least you deserve.”
Jiang Yanli does let out a little giggle at that, and Zixuan freezes. Meng Yao watches in fascination as his brother’s expression melts like chocolate in a child’s hand, his blush somehow growing even deeper. Jiang Yanli takes mercy on him and reaches out to take the box, bowing back slightly.
“Thank you, Jin Zixuan, Meng Yao,” she says, and her glance in his direction tells him that she knows who actually picked out the present. “Please, come in.”
They follow her into her apartment, and Meng Yao glances around at the warm brown hardwood and lilac walls appraisingly. The furniture was nice but unassuming, something of their owner that they reflected. He glances at Jiang Yanli and his brother, both leaning into each unconsciously as they talk. He shakes his head fondly and wonders if his brother needs glasses; he must if he can stand that close to Jiang Yanli and not realize that she is as hopelessly into him as he is into her.
Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying are bickering in the kitchen, the rise and fall of their voices carrying through the walls. He can’t make out any actual words, but he knows from experience it’s unlikely to be important and he is even more certain that he doesn't want to be involved. So, Meng Yao turns towards Jiang Yanli’s bookcase, scanning the titles for something to distract himself with. He pulls a book off the shelf and flips through a couple pages, before turning it to read the back.
He is halfway through the summary of a fairly formulaic romance novel - if they’re going to play it that straight, they should at least be bold enough to not actually make it straight - when he hears a knock on the door. He glances at his brother and Jiang Yanli, who still seem lost in their own world, before putting the book back. Not wanting to disrupt them, he goes to open the door himself and immediately freezes.
In the doorway is the most beautiful man Meng Yao has ever laid his eyes on - and Lan Zhan.
The most beautiful man, who has a jaw that would make Clark Kent jealous, widens his eyes slightly in surprise and then smiles. Meng Yao’s brain fills with static.
“Um,” he says, eloquently, and the beautiful man’s eyes dart around the hall. His smile turns apologetic and he stoops at the waist - bowing, he’s bowing Meng Yao realizes and he just stares because his brain can’t function long enough to understand what is going on.
“I’m sorry to disrupt you,” the beautiful man says, and Meng Yao just blinks dumbly at him. “I think we might have the wrong apartment.”
“Uh,” Meng Yao says, just as eloquently, and he gestures back into the apartment, vaguely in the direction of his brother. “Looking for Jiang Yanli?”
The beautiful man nods, looking a little uncertain. “That’s correct.”
Meng Yao opens the door wider and takes a step back, gesturing for them to enter. Lan Zhan does, apparently unbothered by the entire interaction, and goes to take his shoes off. His eyes dart in the general direction of Wei Ying’s voice, and some part of Meng Yao’s mind that still works wonders if he has a Wei Ying honing device in his head.
“I was unaware that Jiang Yanli had a,” the handsome man hesitates here, and Meng Yao turns back to him. He watches as the man’s full lips press together into a frown, and distantly wonders if they’re soft. “ -partner?”
“A what?”
“A partner. Is that not the correct term?”
Meng Yao stares at him, hopelessly confused by this conversation. The other man stares back, looking more concerned by the second. He glances back towards the stairs, as if he is considering fleeing.
“This is Jin Zixuan’s brother,” Lan Zhan finally offers, nodding at Meng Yao in acknowledgement. He nods back, and watches as the teenager retreats into the apartment before turning back to the other man. He’s tall, and not just because Meng Yao is short, and he almost has to tilt his head back to make eye contact.
“Oh!” The tall man exclaims, and something bright flashes through his eyes. It's gone before Meng Yao could recognize it, and he feels a pang of regret. He wants to catalogue all of the man’s expressions, to have a little library in his mind with reference cards to figure out just what this man is thinking at all times.
He holds his hand out, and Meng Yao stares at it for a beat before realizing he is supposed to shake it. He does.
“We haven’t had the chance to meet yet,” the man says, and Meng Yao nods. He doesn’t forget things, but even if he did, he doubts very strongly that this man would be one of them. “I am Lan Huan - Lan Zhan’s brother.”
“Meng Yao,” he says, and then repeats, “Jin Zixuan’s brother.”
“How old are you?” Lan Huan asks, his brow wrinkling beautifully. “You look like you’re the same age.”
“We are, I’m five hours older,” Meng Yao answers, and internally winces. He hopes that Lan Huan doesn’t ask.
He doesn’t. There is only the faintest lift to his eyebrows, something most people might miss. However, Meng Yao is already not most people, and he was also staring very hard at Lan Huan’s face when it happened, so he did notice.
“I am four years older than my brother, myself,” Lan Huan says and Meng Yao does the mental math.
“So, two years older than me,” Meng Yao says, mostly to himself. At twenty-two, Lan Huan is probably graduating from university soon. He doesn’t allow himself a moment to wonder if Lan Huan was even in school - he knows the Lans, he knows that he is. Instead, he wonders for a moment what the man studies in college - his name says lawyer, his kind and patient face says teacher, his long and nimble fingers say artist.
“Yes, I believe so,” Lan Huan says, and he smiles. It takes Meng Yao a second to realize he is blocking Lan Huan’s entrance and his face flashes hot before he steps further into the apartment so Lan Huan can actually come inside. He shuts the door as the other man takes his shoes off.
“How do you know Jiang Yanli? Through your brother?” Meng Yao asks, turning back to see the beautiful man straightening up, but not before he sees the broad muscles of his back flexing. He wonders if it would be rude to brew some of the tea that they brought, his throat suddenly and desperately dry.
He is never going to tease his brother over his crush again.
“Through my brother, through Wei Ying, yes,” Lan Haun says, shrugging off his jacket to hang it on the wall. “I’m assuming that’s how you met her?”
“No, actually, I met her first. We all went to highschool together.” He and Jiang Yanli had randomly been assigned science partners freshman and she went to the Jin household to work on their project once. Jin Zixuan laid eyes on her and - Meng Yao glances at them now - the rest was history, as they say.
“I’m surprised this is the first time we’re meeting then,” Lan Huan says, and Meng Yao looks back at him. “I was only two years ahead of you.”
“I don’t make much of an impression,” Meng Yao says, not quite self deprecating. His mom had just died when he started high school and he moved in with the Jins - it took him a couple years to get comfortable and by then, Lan Huan would have been gone.
The man in front of him just fixes him with a skeptical look and says, “I doubt that.”
Meng Yao does not know how to respond to that. He just stares at the man, who seems completely unbothered by what he just said to Meng Yao. He has the audacity to smile at him again. Meng Yao opens his mouth as if to say something, but his mind blanks and so he continues to just stand there, his mouth slightly open and a blush creeping up his neck.
His brother and Jiang Yanli walk over that moment, and Lan Huan turns to their hostess. Meng Yao looks to his brother and widens his eyes.
What the fuck , his expression says.
What? His brother responds, glancing at the man and then back. Lan Huan?
Yes, he nods subtly and widens his eyes again. What the fuck?
Jin Zixuan blinks, confused, and then his eyebrows shoot up.
Oh! his brother smirks, you’re down bad.
I know! Meng Yao gestures aggressively in the air, behind Lan Huan’s back. You couldn’t warn me?
Didn’t know he was coming , Jin Zixuan says with a shrug, and Jiang Yanli cuts them off.
“Meng Yao,” Jiang Yanli says his name with a smile, “I didn’t know that you and Lan Huan hadn’t met yet. I would have introduced you sooner.”
“It’s fine,” Meng Yao says, because it is. He glances at Lan Huan and then quickly turns back to Jiang Yanli. “Are your parents coming?”
“Oh, no,” she says with a frown. Her eyes grow sad, but there is something artificial about her expression. “Mom and Dad are abroad right now, I just couldn’t find a day where all of our schedules lined up.”
“You’ll just have to invite them over when they come back,” Jin Zixuan soothes, laying a hand on her shoulder, and she smiles warmly at him.
“Let’s go check on my brothers before they destroy the kitchen,” she says, all vestiges of sadness gone. She looks at them each individually before giving Zixuan one last look and leaving. His brother falls into step behind her, not even hesitating, and Lan Huan smiles at him before following as well. Meng Yao files the moment away in his mind in a drawer labelled ‘Yanli???’ and then joins them in the kitchen.
Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli talk as she stirs a large pot, Jin Zixuan awkwardly hovering just beside her. Wei Ying is chatting at a mile a minute while pulling bowls out of the cabinets, wordlessly handing them to the Lan brothers who respectfully stand and listen to him. Lan Huan searches the kitchen before meeting Meng Yao’s eyes. He smiles and makes room for him to join them.
While Meng Yao doesn’t care for Wei Ying’s endless chatter, he was too polite to ignore such a respectful invitation, and he isn’t sure that he wants to anyway.
“ - and then, last week, I met their cousin, he’s the cutest kid. But like, you’ve seen Wen Ning, so it can’t be surprising that his family is just as adorable,” Wei Ying rambles. Lan Zhan’s face is almost imperceptible, and even with Meng Yao’s perfect memory and years of knowing him, he can barely tell what Lan Zhan is emoting on most days. However, it’s impossible to miss the way his expression darkens as Wei Ying talks, his fingers turning white where they press into the bowl in his hands. Impossible to miss for everyone but Wei Ying, who keeps talking.
Lan Huan turns his head away from his brother - not that he really needs to, since Lan Zhan’s eyes have yet to leave Wei Ying’s face - and smile. He looks at Meng Yao, his eyes twinkling, amusement and fondness clear as day on his face.
Brothers , he seems to be saying, his gaze briefly jumping to where Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan were standing.
Brothers, he tentatively agrees. Lan Huan’s smile grows wider, and Meng Yao feels like a flower that is seeing the sun for the first time.
“Here, Yaoyao,” Wei Ying says, interrupting them and himself by handing Meng Yao a stack of bowls. “You three go set the table.”
“What are you going to do?” he asks, and Wei Ying throws him a million-watt-smile.
“Be jiejie’s taste tester, of course!” Jiang Cheng shouts something about how lazy Wei Ying is, but Meng Yao just rolls his eyes. Lan Zhan hesitates for a moment and Lan Huan takes pity on him. He shifts the plates Wei Ying handed him until he can take Lan Zhan’s, and then gestures towards Wei Ying with his head. Lan Zhan looks up at his brother, his eyes wide and grateful, and then he turns to go join Wei Ying, leaving them alone.
“Have you been to many Jiang family dinners?” Lan Huan asks a moment later, when they’re safe in the dining room.
“No. I eat lunch with them all of the time, but I think this is my first real dinner.”
“I see,” Lan Huan says, nodding. “They’re all more or less like this.”
“What, yelling and full of pining?” Meng Yao asks, raising an eyebrow. Lan Huan laughs, and while Meng Yao is not under the impression it is hard to make him laugh, he is still pleased to inspire it just the same.
“You would not be incorrect to say so,” he muses, shaking his head slightly. “Although, admittedly, it is usually just Lan Zhan and Wei Ying pining.”
“They pine enough for us all,” Meng Yao mutters, and Lan Huan laughs again. His eyes are warm when they meet, and he is so lost in them he doesn’t notice where his hands are until Lan Huan’s fingers brush against his. Between his eyes and his touch, Meng Yao feels like he’s on fire. He pulls his hand back and blushes ferociously.
He hears another shout from the kitchen and glances over his shoulder. He watches as Jiang Cheng pulls Wei Ying into a chokehold, Lan Zhan tensing like he wants to stop him even as Wei Ying laughs in delight.
“Didi, you’re so cruel!” He shouts, reaching his arms up to tug on Jiang Cheng’s bangs. He shouts angrily, and Meng Yao shook his head, turning back.
“Are you ever like that, with your brothers?” Lan Huan asks.
“No,” Meng Yao says, shrugging. “For one, they’re both taller than me, which is extremely unfair since our younger brother is only 12.”
Lan Huan makes a sound suspiciously close to a snort, and Meng Yao smiles. “For two, Jin Zixuan annoys me but I never want to wrestle him over it.”
“Wei Ying calls it the Cain instinct,” Lan Huan says. “I’ve never felt it, either, though he insists that every brother feels it.”
“Ah, common misconception,” Meng Yao says sagely. “The average brother doesn’t want to kill their siblings. Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying, who want to kill each other daily, are outliers who should have not been counted.”
Lan Huan shakes his head, his eyes sparkling and a grin on his lips. He looks at Meng Yao long enough to make him feel self conscious, and he tries to busy himself by finishing setting the table up. It doesn’t take long, and he can’t ignore the weight of his gaze anymore, so finally looks up.
“What?” Meng Yao doesn't know what it is, if it's something about the way Lan Huan is looking at him or some sort of sixth sense, but his heart starts to race. Lan Huan looks him up and down and then his tongue darts out to wet his lips. For just a moment, he looks unsure.
“Meng Yao, would-”
“Coming through!” Wei Ying yells, interrupting Lan Huan, and Meng Yao has never hated him more. He sets a large pot in the middle of the table, the centerpiece meal out of the various dishes that Jiang Yanli prepared. The teenager rocks back on his heels, his hands on his hips, and looks proudly at the pot as if he made it himself.
“Rib and Lotus soup! The Jiang specialty!”
“It isn’t the Jiang specialty when she’s the only one who makes it,” Jiang Cheng complains. Wei Ying shoots him a hurt look.
“I could make it if she showed me!”
“No, you couldn’t. You can’t even make congee normally,” Jiang Cheng says with a snort, nudging Wei Ying’s shoulder.
“Boys,” Jiang Yanli scolds mildly, and Wei Ying turns towards her, pouting.
“Jiejie, tell him he’s wrong.”
“Oh, A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says instead, cupping his face.
“Jiejie!” He shouts, betrayed. He pulls away from her and turns to Lan Zhan. His pout this time is even more exaggerated, and Lan Zhan looks a little panicked.
“Lan Zhan! Tell them you’d eat my cooking!”
“Don’t do it, Lan Zhan,” Jiang Cheng warns and even Jiang Yanli shakes her head slightly.
“I -” Lan Zhan turns back towards Wei Ying, whose puppy dog eyes were impressive even to Meng Yao. He can see the teenager deflate in real time. “I would like to try Wei Ying’s cooking.”
Wei Ying throws his arms in the air and shouts like he just won a prize and then launches himself at Lan Zhan. He wraps his arms around the other teenager and the poor boy just looks dazed. Jiang Cheng shakes his head disappointed, Jiang Yanli smiles fondly, and Lan Huan just looks incredibly amused.
“I knew I could count on Zhan-ge,” Wei Ying says softly.
“Always,” Lan Zhan says automatically, his arms coming around to hug him, and Meng Yao starts to feel like he’s intruding. He turns away from the pair and finds that everyone else pointedly not looking in their direction either. Jiang Yanli busies herself by pouring soup into bowls and Meng Yao helps by passing them around.
Jin Zixuan catches his eye. Am I that bad?
Meng Yao considers. Rarely.
His brother sighs. I need to ask her out.
Meng Yao raises his eyebrows. Duh.
He hands Zixuan his bowl of soup, and his brother peers into the cloudy broth for a moment. When he looks back up, it's with determination.
I’ll ask her out. Tonight.
Meng Yao grins at him. I’m proud of you.
Dinner goes smoothly, after that. The Jiangs definitely do most of the talking, but they usually do anyway. Meng Yao is capable of talking for hours and has done so more than once, but he is more than happy to just exchange glances with his brother or speak quietly to Lan Huan. He spends a lot of time talking to him, much to his surprise.
“Have you tried this?” Lan Huan asks under his voice, offering Meng Yao a part of the dish that Jiang Yanli made especially for the Lans with his chopsticks. Meng Yao hesitates because, well, he just met Lan Huan and eating from his chopsticks seems like something he shouldn’t do the first time he meets someone, but then he leans forward and takes the bite anyway. He is rewarded with a savory but sweet burst of flavor over his tongue and Lan Huan’s pleased smile, and he can’t find it within himself to mind, even when Zixuan stares at him a little.
“Did you know,” Lan Huan starts another time to talk about the Poet Lan An, or to start an anecdote about Lan Zhan in school, or something else and Meng Yao loses himself in his smooth cadence, only barely hearing his words, too distracted by his voice and the way his throat moves as he speaks. He pauses expectantly and Meng Yao smiles, and pulls up what little he knew about the poet Lan An, or what he remembers of Lan Zhan during high school, or whatever he needs to keep the conversation going.
Sometimes he doesn’t say anything, sometimes he just catches Meng Yao’s eye and smiles in a way that makes him feel like they’re conspiring and it was closer to the end of the dinner than the start when he smiles like this at Meng Yao again and Meng Yao realizes quite suddenly that he likes Lan Huan. And that realization makes him feel very warm and also very silly because he just met Lan Huan, and he is twenty years old, not a hormonal teenager. He should not be getting crushes at all, much less on a man he just met, but then he really looks at Lan Huan, at his sharp jaw and his long, silky black hair that spills over his back and his kind smile, and Meng Yao thinks, well, he’s just human after all.
A lot of things make sense, after that realization. Like the way his chest flutters when Lan Huan smiles at him, or the way electricity arcs through him every time their hands brush. It’s exasperating, frustrating, but also exhilarating . He basks in every smile and touch that Lan Huan seems more than happy to give.
After they finish dinner, he looks at his brother and tries to send as many encouraging vibes as he can. Some part of him feels hypocritical, to push his brother to confess when the idea of showing interest in Lan Huan feels deeply horrifying. However, Meng Yao has put up with Jin Zixuan pining for the last two years - and Lan Zhan for even longer before that - and if he wants more than a day to deal with his crush he feels like he has the right.
“I’ll wash the dishes,” he offers, before the Jiang brothers somehow wrangle Zixuan into doing it. He realizes his error quickly, though, when Wei Ying perks up with a glint in his eyes.
“Then the Peaco-”
“I’ll join you,” Lan Huan smoothly interrupts, standing in one graceful movement. Meng Yao blinks, warmth and gratitude overwhelming him for a brief second. He smiles at the other man, who returns it, unaware of what he just did.
“O-okay,” Wei Ying says, drawing out the word and sending a glare towards Jin Zixuan. His brother sees the opportunity for what it is and before either of her brothers could intercept, turns to her.
“Jiang Yanli could I - may I speak to you? Privately?” He asks.
“Of course,” She says with a soft smile. Jiang Cheng scoffs and Wei Ying gasps in distress, but both hold their tongues when Jiang Yanli gives them a warning look.
Wei Ying slumps in his seat, which makes Lan Zhan sit up straighter. He turns towards the moping teen and says something quietly, which makes Wei Ying turn his pout in his direction. Across the table, Jiang Cheng scoffs even more loudly and slams up from the table, muttering something about ‘pining fools’ as he disappears down the hall.
Lan Huan and Meng Yao just look at each other.
“Shall we?” Lan Huan says, and Meng Yao nods. They gather the bowls and plates and serving trays and carry them into the kitchen, where they get to work. Meng Yao scrubs the dishes and then hands them to Lan Huan, who rinses them off and sets them on the drying rack. They’re quiet for a moment, just working together in silence.
“Why did you volunteer to wash dishes?” Lan Huan asks.
“Ah, Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying always try to separate my brother and Jiang Yanli. I didn’t want to give them the chance,” he explains, then asks, “Why did you?”
“Oh,” Lan Huan focuses very intensely on rinsing the bowl in his hand for a moment. “I was just - being polite.”
“Oh,” Meng Yao says. Then, “Lan Zhan always says your uncle forbids you from lying.”
“What Uncle does not know will not hurt him,” Lan Huan says automatically. A faint pink blush crawls up his neck when he seems to realize what he said. “I’m not lying - not entirely, anyway.”
“Okay,” Meng Yao says, amused. “Keep your secrets then.”
They lapse into silence again, focusing on washing the dishes. Standing this close, Meng Yao can feel Lan Huan’s body heat and smell the faint scent of agarwood and fresh laundry. They work well together, with Lan Huan always there just as Meng Yao finishes another dish, and the task goes by quickly even if the table had been full. There is some food leftover and he has to find Jiang Yanli so she can show him where to store the leftovers, but for now he was content to just stand shoulder to shoulder with Lan Huan.
“Oh, you have -” Lan Huan says suddenly after taking a bowl from him. Meng Yao turns to him, curiously. The taller man sets the aforementioned bowl back into the sink and dries his hands, and then suddenly he is touching Meng Yao’s face. His long thumb swipes across his cheekbone and Meng Yao freezes, his body growing very warm as he stares wide-eyed at Lan Huan. He seems startled himself.
“I - You had -,” he stops himself and swallows, his throat bobbing. He doesn’t move his hand. “Soap suds. On your cheek.”
“Oh,” Meng Yao says. Lan Huan’s eyes drop, and he realizes that he is looking at Meng Yao’s lips. His heart starts to race.
“Hey, Lan Huan?” He says quietly, reaching a hand up to wrap around the taller man’s elbow, keeping his hand on his cheek. He leans into the touch, and Lan Huan meets his eyes again, looking startled.
“Yes?”
“What were you going to ask me earlier?” He asks.
“Oh,” Lan Huan barely breathes the word. He is quiet for a long time, his eyes searching Meng Yao’s face for something. He, for his part, just keeps his eyes open wide and beseeching. Lan Huan takes a deep breath, and when he breathes out, Meng Yao can feel it against his lips.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner with me,” Lan Huan says, and Meng Yao feels like he’s been set on fire but like, in a good way. He blinks at the other man and thinks, quite certainly, that he wants to kiss him.
“I had been hoping,” he says, quietly, feeling too bold and too fragile all at once. “You were going to ask if you could kiss me.”
Lan Haun’s fingers twitch against his face. He places his other hand hesitantly against Meng Yao’s waist.
“I thought I should have dinner with you first.”
“We just had dinner,” Meng Yao points out, tilting his head back slightly.
“So we did,” Lan Huan says, and then he pulls Meng Yao to his chest. Meng Yao wraps his arms around the taller man’s shoulders and then they lean in, moving together until their lips meet.
Meng Yao had wondered what it would be like, to kiss him, very shortly after they had met. After all, he had looked at the most beautiful man in the world - was it not normal to immediately wonder what it would be like to kiss him? But whatever he had pictured in that minute, it is nothing like the real thing. Lan Huan’s lips are full and much softer than they have any business being and they move against his like they were made for this.
Meng Yao is warm, overheated, everything he feels boils and overflows, spilling out from him and into the kiss. He slides his hands into Lan Huan’s hair and tangles his fingers in the silky strands, pulling the man closer and deeper. He gasps when he feels Lan Huan’s tongue against his lips and the taller man takes the opportunity to press it against his teeth.
It’s just a kiss, just a press of lips and tongues, but it makes Meng Yao feel so much. And it’s over too soon, Lan Huan pulling away but keeping his arms around Meng Yao, and he’s thankful because he needs to breathe but he’s also upset because he felt like doing anything but kissing Lan Huan was a waste.
He stares over Lan Huan’s shoulder, catching his breath, and wondering how a single man was so powerful that over the course of a couple hours he managed to completely take Meng Yao over.
“You didn’t actually answer me, about dinner.”
Meng Yao laughs. “Do you think I’ll say no, now?”
“You could,” Lan Huan says, seriously. “You don’t have to.”
“Lan Haun!” Meng Yao says, and he laughs again, because this beautiful man is ridiculous and he likes him a ridiculous amount already. “I very much so want to get dinner with you.”
“Okay,” Lan Huan says, smiling so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle. Meng Yao smiles too, and Lan Huan’s fingers brush against his dimple when he pulls away. “We should probably finish the dishes.”
“Probably,” Meng Yao says with an exaggerated sigh. When they turn back, Meng Yao leans into Lan Huan, laying his head against his shoulder. They’re almost done when he hears footsteps quickly come into the kitchen and then skid to a stop.
“You move fast,” Jin Zixuan says and Meng Yao throws a glare at him over his shoulder.
“We can’t all pine for two years,” he says, and his brother shrugs because he knows that Meng Yao is right. With an apologetic smile, he pulls away from Lan Huan, who only gracefully takes over the dishwashing without a single complaint.
He dries his hand as he walks up to his brother, raising his eyebrows in question.
“How’d it go?” He asks, and Jin Zixuan grins.
“Well, it went - well. We’re getting lunch tomorrow.”
“There you go!” Meng Yao says happily, clamping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I told you she liked you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you were right, I get it,” he says, too happy to actually be annoyed. “I’m thinking we should probably head up before her brothers find out, though.”
“You’re probably right,” Meng Yao sighs, glancing at Lan Huan. “Meet me out front, okay?”
His brother nods and then leaves. Meng Yao quickly went to Lan Huan and stood on his tip toes so he could press a kiss to the taller man’s cheek. A blush crawls up his cheek, and it is incredibly endearing.
“I have to go, what’s your phone number?”
“Oh, give me a second I can hand you my phone,” Lan Huan says, and goes to pat his pockets. Meng Yao shook his head.
“Just tell me, I’ll remember,” he says, because he will. Lan Huan looks at him curiously but doesn’t protest. He rattles off the number and Meng Yao nods. And then, because he can’t help himself, he quickly kisses him and then he’s pulling away, heading out.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He says. Lan Huan smiles.
“See you soon,” he says.
Jin Zixuan is waiting by the door, watching Jiang Yanli with a disgustingly sweet smile and Meng Yao wonders if the expression he’s making is similar. He shouts his goodbye to the Jiangs and then he’s pulling his brother out of the apartment. He does not envy Lan Huan for having to witness Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng’s reaction to the news.
“So,” he says. “I think that went rather well.”
“Indeed,” Jin Zixuan agrees, and then he smirks at his brother. “Aren’t you glad I asked you to come now?”
“Begged me. You begged me to come,” Meng Yao corrects, and Jin Zixuan waves his hand.
“Whatever, you certainly got something out of it,” he says and Meng Yao nods because, well, he did. He pulls his phone out and types Lan Huan’s number in and then sends him a quick message. His brother watches him, his expression warm.
“I’m really happy for you,” he says, and Meng Yao smiles.
“And I, for you.” Then, he frowns. “Not looking forward to telling our father.”
Jin Zixuan expression drops. “We’ll just let him know at our joint wedding.”
“There is no way we’re having a joint wedding,” Meng Yao says. “I know your taste, it’s incredibly tacky.”
“Like I’ll have the slightest input between Mom, Madam Yu, and her brothers.”
“Another reason that we definitely aren’t having a joint wedding.”
“Fine,” Jin Zixuan says as they reach the bottom of the steps. He unlocks the doors and then shoots Meng Yao a look over the top of his car. “I get to be the best man.”
“You’d have to fight Mo Xuanyu for it,” Meng Yao shrugs, sliding into the passenger seat. His brother joins him quickly, gaping at him.
“He’ll be like 15!”
“Maybe I want a long engagement, you don’t know. Maybe we’ll elope.”
“No you won’t,” Jin Zixuan scoffs, turning the car on. “If you marry Lan Huan, you’re going to want to show him off.
Meng Yao smiles, picturing Lan Huan dressed in red.
“Hell yeah, I would.”