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The warm spring day that Wei Wuxian’s agent calls him with news that he’s been cast for the male lead for an upcoming romcom, he trips over the couch in the living room on his way to find a pillow to scream into, since screaming out of a window to the whole neighborhood is off limits, because Jiang Cheng is still sleeping and would probably throw a fit if he was woken up against his will, even if it is already almost noon.
Fortunately for them both, the pillow is doing a great job of muffling the continuous, animal-like screeching coming from his throat. Wei Wuxian has been losing sleep waiting for this call, and to finally get an answer means the anxious weight on his chest that he’s been carrying for weeks has finally been dislodged.
His audition for his new part was one of the first he was offered after his last, and biggest, movie, “The Saber’s Curse,” came out. Before “The Saber’s Curse,” or Saber, as he and his co-star have come to call it, he’d been fulfilling roles as an extra or a side character for five years while trying to gain a foothold in the acting industry. Usually as the token POC, because that’s how it goes when you’re part of a minority in a Western country as a mostly unknown actor. This continued until last year, when he and another up-and-coming actor his age, Lan Wangji, were cast as leads for a historical fantasy murder mystery movie based on a Chinese novel that was a hit in theaters. Their popularity skyrocketed in the weeks after the release, and they’ve spent the past few months acclimating to heightened security measures, frequent TV interviews, and offer after offer for new roles to audition for. It’s been interesting, to say the least, to try and figure out what exactly caused their movie to land so well with a wide variety of audiences.
Fans raving about the movie like to claim that it was his and Lan Wangji’s talent and on-screen chemistry as crime-solving partners that made it so enjoyable (and later, their off-screen chemistry that was almost leaking out of the screens playing their interviews, leading to their ship name: “Wangxian”), but Wei Wuxian has come to think that it was more likely the authenticity of the movie brought about from hiring actual Chinese people with knowledge about Chinese mythology and history for screenwriting, directing, and producing. Projects like these are usually always better when a real attempt is made to stay true to the source, instead of the “cherry pick the white man’s favorite part of the already culturally rich story and westernize everything else to make it ‘appealing’” method that Hollywood has been consistently reliant on. Wei Wuxian is proud to know the movie had been so successful; he and the rest of the cast couldn’t have hoped for a better and more enthusiastic response, not just from their own community, but from a diverse range of audiences. Maybe the film industry will learn to take a hint, one day, that the western perspective is not the end-all be-all of storytelling.
But - that is besides the point. The point, today, is that Wei Wuxian is now scheduled to be the sole male lead for a highly anticipated book-to-film adaptation of a tragic contemporary love story, and he is thrilled . He gets to branch out beyond the roles he’s used to, which have always involved being a catalyst for someone else’s story. Even in the case of Saber, he and Lan Wangji’s characters find a mottled arm that unravels clues to a string of murders, starting their investigation and the discovery of other missing body parts, ultimately leading up to the reveal that their involvement in the case was orchestrated by a little brother exacting vengeance for his late elder brother, whose body parts, coincidentally, were the ones they had been finding.
The new character Wei Wuxian gets to play has an arc that is more focused on emotional development and internal struggles, rather than being driven by external plots and scheming little siblings. His character, forced by circumstances he cannot control into developing a new weapon that could destroy the world, falls in love while he finalizes the designs. They have three blissful months together that allow him to grow as a person before the government seizes his lab and kills his lover, triggering his character’s descent into a psychotic rage that ends in his death by his very own destructive creation. Wei Wuxian only read the bare bones synopsis of the script before immediately signing up to audition, and spent a week binge-reading the original novel in preparation. This part, which necessitates the ability to show fear, love, madness, and intelligence, will be his chance to show he has range , a skill he’s worked towards for countless years in the privacy of his room, watching and analyzing a variety of films, noting what did and didn’t work, reworking scenes in his head, acting them out on his own and then critically examining his own methods. It’s helped him do well in auditions before, but now his efforts can really be put to the test.
Realizing his head is still shoved into a pillow and his breath has been too shallow for a while, Wei Wuxian throws it back on the couch and reaches out to pick his phone up from the coffee table, where he’d thrown it in his shock earlier after hanging up. Scrolling though his contacts, he finds “Partner in Crime (Solving) <3” and shoots off a succession of texts, starting with “LAN ZHAN WAKE THE FUCK UP I GOT THE PART :D,” veering off into “are the bunnies doing well? will you give them nose kisses from me please ^.^?” and about 6 texts later, ending with “WHEN ARE YOU FREE SO I CAN TELL YOU MORE!?!?”
Lan Wangji, with his infinite patience and knowledge of how Wei Wuxian is as a person, waits until five minutes have passed from the last text before sending back his replies. Lan Wangji, with his infinite capacity to be cute and considerate, responds to every text that merits a real response, starting with “I have been awake since five. Congratulations, Wei Ying,” veering off into “Yueyue and Xiao Tuzi are well. I will pass along your request,” and about three texts later, ending with “I am free this afternoon, but starting tomorrow I will be out of town for auditions for two weeks. Let me know when is preferable for you.”
Wei Wuxian smiles fondly, at how quickly his request to meet is accepted. Since they became close during filming, Wei Wuxian has learned that Lan Wangji’s friendship is incomparable to any other that Wei Wuxian has had before. Lan Wangji has this way of making you feel valued, and listened to, and that you can depend on him for anything; even when he isn’t physically present, he will still be there, like the moon guiding the rise and fall of ocean tides, despite being out of sight. Reading the texts again and seeing Lan Wangji’s perfect punctuation and grammar, Wei Wuxian giggles. So much of Lan Wangji’s behavior gives off the vibe of an old man, but in filming with him for months, Wei Wuxian knows there is so much more behind his textbook-perfect linguistic habits and monotone responses. Lan Wangji is funny, and bitchy in the best way, and is kind and mindful and has an overflowing well of talent prominent in his ability to transform himself into a character, a process that looks effortless but speaks of years and years of careful dedication to the art. Wei Wuxian could not have imagined someone better to star next to for a breakthrough film, to experience such a change in lifestyle with.
Firing off another text giving a time and place to safely meet up later that day, Wei Wuxian finally goes off to wake up Jiang Cheng, because, frankly, he can no longer keep the joy thrumming through his veins from bursting, nor stop the excitement from swimming across his mind, splashing around images of what the upcoming months will be like, looking for somewhere to surface. Jiang Cheng has two perfectly working ears that will act as a perfect harbor. Right after, of course, Wei Wuxian manages to wake him up without landing in the hospital.
***
At 4PM on the dot, Lan Wangji enters the high end café Wei Wuxian picked out—due to their familiarity in dealing with and hiding celebrities—and spends maybe two seconds looking around before a clear shout of “Lan Zhan!” rings out from the back left wall.
Wei Wuxian is frantically waving his hands and gesturing Lan Wangji over, to where two drinks have already been set across from each other on their table. Lan Wangji knows without checking that his preferred jasmine tea with almond milk will be inside the white cup marked with a barely legible “Wei Wooshian.”
“Thank you, Wei Ying. They got your family name right today.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes light up at the mention and he picks up the cup to dramatically show off the half-correct spelling.
“Don’t mention it, Lan Zhan, and, I know, right! I cannot tell you how tired I was of seeing “Will” on these cups. But I think it’s cause the barista was familiar with Saber, and I appreciate her effort either way. There was a rush earlier so I didn’t bother to spell anything out for her.” His smile spreads across his face, silver-gray eyes crinkled into little arches, lit up by the sun filtering in the glass panes lining the side of their booth.
“Mn,” is what Lan Wangji’s dumbstruck mind manages to provide in response.
“Now! Tell me, how have you been? Are you ready for your auditions? Did Yueyue do the nose twitch and face-paw bump combination when you gave her my nose kisses?” Wei Wuxian twitches his own nose as he says this, causing Lan Wangji to be glad for his training with meditative breathing techniques, because otherwise he might have stopped allowing air into his lungs and passed out. Their time together is always an exercise in keeping himself together when faced with the full force of Wei Wuxian’s charm and endearing mannerisms, and preventing himself from asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand in marriage every other minute.
Their conversation kicks off from there, winding down long after the last sips of tea have been sipped, long after Wei Wuxian decided to order them a slice of cake to share in celebration, long after the sun dipped behind the city’s skyscrapers, casting brilliant golden streaks of light across the hundreds of windows that can be seen from their spot in front of the glass walls of the cafe. When a minute or so passes in which they both enjoy the view, Wei Wuxian asks if he can visit Yueyue and Xiao Tuzi before Lan Wangji has to leave, and is granted an immediate yes.
Their bodyguards, seated at a nearby table and engaged in a heated debate over which movie most accurately portrayed their jobs, are notified of the plan and quickly coordinate the trip to Lan Wangji’s house. Due to the sheer amount of time Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian spent together after their movie released, Nie Mingjue and Wen Ning became fast friends, and have already developed the most efficient and secure routs to escort the two actors between each other’s houses.
Nie Mingjue and Wen Ning stand by as Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian shuffle into the back of a van, then climb in after them to take the seats in the middle row, and pick up right where they left off in bickering over the merits and pitfalls of “The Bodyguard (1992).” In the back row, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian amusedly follow the increasingly ridiculous arguments and watch as the logical points dissolve into light-hearted jabs and teasing.
Lan Wangji always feels strangely pleased when the people in his circle get along with the people in Wei Wuxian’s circle. It feels like they’re developing an extended family of a sort, one that he never wishes to lose, despite knowing that relationships of all sorts tend to be intense but fleeting within their industry, like glimpsing the brilliant streak of a meteor and barely having time to appreciate it contrasting the expansive night sky before it burns itself out of existence, leaving you only with the afterimage, an imperfect memory, and the wishes it gave you the courage to make.
Lan Wangji turns his head to look at Wei Wuxian, and finds him already looking back, sending a burst of electricity though his arms, burning on the way down. Wei Wuxian seems to be tracking the lines of his face, and Lan Wangji mirrors him, indulging in the unrestrained opportunity to look and take his fill, at the fine-angled cheekbones and arched brows, the lips tinted with the vivid pink of a fully bloomed hydrangea, smiling, always smiling, then smirking, and - oh no.
Wei Wuxian leans in, “Checking me out, Lan Zhan?” he whispers, then laughs when all he receives is an annoyed huff and the back of Lan Wangji’s head in response. It takes ten minutes— which Wei Wuxian fills with whining apologies, then accusations of neglect— for Lan Wangji’s ears to revert to their original temperature, allowing him to be comfortable enough to turn back around, safe in the knowledge that Wei Wuxian is too late to catch his blush.
Satisfied to have Lan Wangji’s attention again, as if he could ever lose it, Wei Wuxian delves into a long-winded analysis of the characters from his upcoming movie. Lan Wangji sinks into his seat and lets the animated rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s voice fill his ears.
***
At Lan Wangji’s apartment, Wei Wuxian greets Lan Xichen, who is stuck in a meeting, with a wave and a nod, before Lan Wangji closes the office door to give his brother privacy and leads the two of them to his bedroom. Nie Mingjue and Wen Ning are gravely standing guard in the living room, doing their best to survey the space and protect its inhabitants (read: their snacks) from danger. (Nie Mingjue may or may not be dating Lan Xichen, and is therefore entitled to hoarding any and all food in the apartment. Wen Ning helps carry the stolen goods in support).
Wei Wuxian, accustomed to their usual routine while hanging out at the Lan brothers’ apartment, kicks off his slippers—blue, decorated in chibi Hanguangjuns, from his favorite donghua, came in a matching pair with Lan Wangji’s, which are red, covered in multiple chibi Yiling Laozus—immediately flings himself onto Lan Wangji’s bed and sighs deeply. It is so comfortable.
“Wei Ying, move.” Wei Wuxian does not move. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to suppress his smile, waiting to see what Lan Wangji will do. Which is, apparently, to bodily lift him up under his knees and shoulders and toss him across the queen-sized bed, forcing room to clear up for Lan Wangji to lay down.
“Lan Zhan! How dare you!” Wei Wuxian whisper-yells, trying to remain considerate of Lan Xichen in his meeting down the hall.
“Wei Ying refused to move himself. On my bed,” Lan Wangji says, deadpan. His eyes are closed and he is laying straight on his back, hands clamped over his stomach.
“Okay, valid. More importantly, since when are you able to lift me? Who gave you the right? What are your Lan trainers and chefs doing to you?” Wei Wuxian rolls to his left side and props himself up on his arm to face Lan Wangji, then has a good ten seconds of admiring his face before Lan Wangji copies him.
“They are not doing anything to me. I choose to employ healthy habits such as having a fitness routine and eating nutritious meals.” Lan Wangji, to the strange observer, would sound bored, possibly even annoyed. To Wei Wuxian, who now has about a year under his belt in his self-proclaimed “Learn every minor difference in tonal inflection that Lan Zhan makes to understand him better” course, can identify the smugness radiating from his statement.
“Lan Zhan! Was manhandling me across your bed just an excuse to show off your strength? And you used to call me shameless during filming when I showed you how many of our castmates I could carry. You hypocrite!”
“I will let Wei Ying believe what he wants. Are you going to show me your script?”
Damn Lan Wangji and his perfectly honed ability to guide Wei Wuxian’s attention by using his excitement about things against him.
“Ah! Yeah, just a second I have to look through my emails.” Lan Wangji makes a disapproving sound at this.
“Wei Ying. My flight leaves at 7 tomorrow morning.” Wei Wuxian looks over in exasperation. He knows where this is going, and is proven right when he sees the pointed look Lan Wangji is giving his emails, which Wei Wuxian is scrolling through rapidly with his thumb, even after typing in key terms into the search bar, because Wei Wuxian is not the best with tasks that require extended focus unless they’re necessary, like sorting emails, and is absolutely one of those people who has maybe 40,000 unread emails sitting around in his inbox at any given time, give or take a couple thousand.
“I will have you know, you judgmental dick, that these were at 50,000 a couple of days ago, and I finally let one of my assistants start helping me clear them. The important email isn’t too far down, I promise I’ll find it before your flight takes off. No promises about you not having to run to the gate to catch it, though.”
“Then, it is a good thing I have incorporated endurance training into my gym sessions.” That stupid smug tone again. Wei Wuxian hates (loves) it.
“Shut up! Here it is, take a look.”
Lan Wangji accepts the proffered phone and begins reading through the pulled up script. At one point he reaches a certain page and kind of… freezes for a couple minutes, nearly scowling at a few lines. Wei Wuxian only notices because the tendons in Lan Wangji’s forearms, which he was not watching at all, have stopped flexing in time with his scrolling thumb.
“Lan Zhan? What is it?” Wei Wuxian lifts his head to get a better look at the screen, and catches “-leans forward and kisses-” before Lan Wangji continues swiping through the rest of the pdf.
“Oh, yeah. The kissing scene. I’m actually not sure how I feel about it.” He shifts down onto his back and crosses his arms over his chest, staring up at the sky-blue ceiling. He hears the drag of hair on a pillow and tilts his head to the side to look at Lan Wangji.
“Why?” Lan Wangji is looking at him, brows furrowed lightly at the inner tips. Concerned. Wei Wuxian grins. How cute!
“Lan Zhan, have you ever kissed anyone before?” Wei Wuxian asks, unusually hesitant. An extended pause permeates the air between them. He almost retracts his question, seeing a look of near shock on Lan Wangji’s face, but an answer is given just in time.
“Just once, for a minor role I had before Saber.” Wei Wuxian still delights in their usage of Saber as a nickname for their movie. The product of their months of preparation, endless nights spent staying up late to discuss scene blocking and body language, script alterations to suggest to the director, ways to keep out the influence of Western ideals from the story.
Lan Wangji still delivers the name with such softness that it’s almost as if the word itself is the delicate, compact manifestation of their experience together during filming, and he is trying to protect it within the safespace of his mouth before releasing it to the open air, subjecting it to the whims of the world. Wei Wuxian feared for weeks after filming that Lan Wangji was going to move on quickly, find a new co-star to befriend and banter with in his subtle ways. Wei Wuxian feared that the reality beyond their bubble of filming would come between him and the best person he ever had the chance to meet who wasn’t Yanli, who wasn’t obligated to accept and love him due to familial circumstance. There was no need to worry, in the end. Lan Wangji remained by his side, being mean to him in a way that no one ever believes, passing on nose kisses to his pet bunnies, cushioning the words important to them with a tenderness that makes Wei Wuxian’s heart stumble.
“Wait, really?” Wei Wuxian throws himself back into the conversation to avoid his thoughts from walking any further down that path.
“Mn. Auditions and filming have not allowed the time for such activities. Has Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji sets the phone down on the nightstand beside his head and turns to fully face Wei Wuxian again.
“See, that’s the thing, Lan Zhan, I haven’t. Which is why I’m, well, not nervous, but not… looking forward to it? I guess? You probably couldn’t tell, but I’m a bit of a romantic -” This earns him a huff, and he pauses, affronted at the implications packed into a single measured breath. How does Lan Wangji manage to say so much doing so little? (Not that it isn’t justified, Wei Wuxian thinks, as a flashback of all their movie nights ending with Wei Wuxian in tears over subpar romantic plotlines plays in his mind)
“Hey! Don’t start with me, I know you’re secretly a huge softie as well, I see how you treat your bunnies, Lan Wangji! Anyways, I’m a bit of a romantic, and I thought I would be able to save my first kiss for someone I liked. Or, at the very least, someone I know well and trust, and wouldn’t have to worry about looking back one day and going ‘wow I regret that happening.’ With this scene, I’m not uncomfortable doing it, I knew what I was auditioning for. It’s more of, what if it feels too weird, and then I’m scared to kiss people I actually like in the future, or worse, the movie flops and I remember my first kiss as a precursor to taking a hit in my early career. You know? Or, what if I do it wrong, and my co-star feels weirded out, and that ruins our chemistry for the rest of filming. That would be bad, Lan Zhan, right? Am I making sense?” Wei Wuxian trails his eyes back up from where they were locked onto his fidgeting fingers, chancing a glance at Lan Wangji, who is watching him with an expression so neutral that it has to be on purpose. There is a long moment of silence where the two look at each other and Wei Wuxian feels himself start to sweat. Maybe talking about this with his - his best friend was a mistake. Did he make him uncomfortable? He opens his mouth to speak.
“Wei Ying. Do you think… Would you be more relaxed during filming if you had already experienced your first kiss with - with someone like you mentioned? That you know and trust?” Wei Wuxian’s fingers abruptly stop moving. He can be oblivious, but he knows Lan Wangji too well at this point to not be able to tell that his faltering eye contact and stuttered sentence means something. When they speak, Lan Wangji always looks him in the eyes, with nothing less than his full focus, as if losing a second of visual information from Wei Wuxian’s face while he speaks would be detrimental to Lan Wangji’s health. Wei Wuxian knows what could be coming next, and doesn’t know where it could lead, but damn if he didn’t want to find out anyway.
He clears his throat, says, “Yes,” quietly, proud of himself for keeping his voice stable. Lan Wangji’s breath hitches; he closes his eyes very slowly, visibly swallows, and takes a measured breath. There is not enough air in this room for the both of them at the moment. His golden eyes open back up, immediately locking onto Wei Wuxian’s, determined. Please ask me.
“Wei Ying, would you feel comfortable if - if you kissed me?” Lan Wangji sounds nervous, sounds just like he did when he told Wei Ying about his mother, still new to the experience of being vulnerable and not being able to predict how it will affect his relationships. Lan Wangji, best person Wei Wuxian has ever known, should never be questioning whether someone would be willing to kiss him. The world should be falling at his feet to even get a glimpse of him.
Wei Wuxian had even suggested, before Saber dropped in theaters, to add a “privilege of seeing Lan Zhan’s face, hearing his voice, seeing him act” fee on all their theater contracts, because movie-going patrons paying a measly $12 for such a blessing was a thought that didn’t sit right with Wei Wuxian. Unfortunately, no one took him seriously. Except, of course, Lan Wangji, who then brought up the unfairness of making working class people pay more for movie tickets when going to the theater is often one of the only ways of escaping the endless cycle of despair in middle class America for a couple blessed hours. If anything, he’d dryly suggested, we should bill the fee to the well-off celebrities who attend the red carpet premiere (which they had, due to their producer being well-connected), and to double or triple the fee amount for anyone who whispers or eats too loudly during his scenes, sending Wei Wuxian into hysterics.
Wei Wuxian probably should've known he was screwed on that day, because then maybe he wouldn’t be having the split second realization now of how much he likes Lan Wangji, like - like likes him, and wants to kiss him this very second, and maybe for a long time after, and then every day after that, and would have had the time to fantasize about it for months instead of being faced with this real situation and not knowing what to do about it.
Which is of course, why his pathetic response ends up being not breathing for maybe thirty head-spinning seconds, parting his lips, and whispering, in possibly the most hoarse voice he’s ever used, “ Yes,” and begins slowly scooting his body forwards, till the tips of his toes are placed against a pair of sock-covered ankles, and barely half a foot of space separates the long lines of their bodies.
A large hand lifts up in his periphery, and approaches his face with care, as if waiting to be pushed away. Wei Wuxian stills himself and hopes the invitation is received. The hand continues its journey forwards, and eventually, four fingertips reach his cheek, landing softly, the curious first steps of a butterfly on an unfamiliar flower, checking for nectar. He wonders if Lan Wangji will still want to kiss him when the blush that has starting building below Wei Wuxian’s jaw rises to his face and turns him into the the same color of skins of the apples they picked in the fall, a deep, dark red, a pigmented layer so thin that a single concentrated touch could make it break.
It’s warm here, in the familiar cocoon built between their bodies, where shared worries have always been acknowledged and comforted, where secrets never make it out, where there might be something new growing, thriving on the trust and affections they’ve been developing since they met. Wei Wuxian desperately wants it, whatever it is, to blossom, bold and stable and anchored, strong enough to withstand whatever changes may be coming.
He opens his eyes back up, not remembering when he closed them. Their faces have managed to get closer, and Lan Wangji’s palm finds a resting place on the hinge of Wei Wuxian’s jaw, pinky finger tucked behind his ear and stroking the fevered patch of skin it finds, remaining fingers cradling his cheek. Lan Wangji uses them to finally, finally pull his head gently forward.
Wei Wuxian tries to memorize every sensation he can process in the seconds before their lips meet: the whirring of the air conditioner, the sunset-colored eyes and blushing nose ( oh my god his nose gets blushy I am going to cry ) taking up his entire vision, the taste of the peppermint candies they’d been offered when they left the café ( convenient), the smell of an earthy cologne coming from below, where Lan Wangji sprayed it on earlier in the day. But then - Wei Wuxian can no longer think of the world around them, because his eyes are closed, the world goes silent, and the only touch he can feel is that of lips pressing against his, so, so gently. Lan Wangji has tilted his head upwards to avoid their noses bumping, and Wei Wuxian experiences a moment of blinding jealousy towards the actor who taught Lan Wangji to do so. But then he remembers what’s happening right now, and his mind goes blank.
They stay like that for a couple seconds and pull back, breaths caught in their throat, only for Wei Wuxian to dive right back in, pulled in with a force so strong he almost leans away to ask if Lan Wangji has been hiding a black hole inside himself this whole time. Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he would mind getting sucked in, if that means he can spend an eternity being this close to his favorite person.
This time, when their lips meet, Wei Wuxian thinks, well, we’ve already made it this far, and proceeds to push harder into the kiss, and Lan Wangji meets him with a force of equal magnitude. Within seconds, one of them starts moving their lips, initiating an, admittedly, very awkward series of attempts with which they try to figure out how to make the kiss more fluid. Luckily, they both take it in stride, with Wei Wuxian giggling and making whispered commentary and Lan Wangji considering every word and adjusting accordingly. They do figure it out, eventually, and spend a blissful half hour languidly basking in each other, trading light, investigatory touches of skin, in no hurry to push things further for the time being. Their mouths move like molten lava against each other, slow, burning, radiant. Lan Wangji gets in a couple of bites to Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, which are immediately reciprocated by him playfully nipping at Lan Wangji’s chin, his red-tipped nose, his cheeks.
When their mouths tire out, they pull back fully, breathing harder than normal, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, never leaving the other’s face. Lan Wangji looks at his hand for a moment, stills, then carefully begins to pull it away from Wei Wuxian’s hip, where it has been resting for some time. Wei Wuxian’s own hands found their final resting place against Lan Wangji’s chest, clutching at his shirt, long ago. He pulls one away to return the hand that left his hip, pressing firmly down and leaving it there. Lan Wangji relaxes, raising his free hand to brush his thumb over Wei Wuxian’s lips, swollen and tender, extra sensitive to the back-and-forth strokes running across them. Bolts of electricity flash down his spine, preceding a full-body shiver he can’t hold back.
Then the hand withdraws again, more confidently, and one slender finger returns, with slightly more pressure, to start tracing a path along the features of Wei Wuxian’s face. Across his cheekbone, out towards his ear to map the outer shell, down his jaw and back up, skirting around his parted lips, to the inner corner of his eye, and back down the line of his nose, leaving trails of fire in the wake of his touch. Wei Wuxian tries following the finger down to where it stops at the tip of his nose and goes cross-eyed, which gets him an amused exhale from Lan Wangji, and a racing heart for himself.
The finger retracts again, and Wei Wuxian misses it instantly.
“Put it back,” Wei Wuxian says, before thinking. Lan Wangji looks at him in surprise, before the lines of his face soften out, and his lips twitch up into a full smile, one so rare and precious that its appearance could summon the gods that abandoned humanity long ago if Lan Wangji so desired.
Wei Wuxian is too captivated by the sight of the most ethereal smile on the planet to notice Lan Wangji was just pulling away to bend his finger, and the world only comes back into focus when that same elegant finger approaches his eyes, which flutter shut on instinct. Wei Wuxian has to force his lungs to keep his breathing steady when he feels a brush following the curl of his lashes, faint as the breezes weaving through the trees outside the window, kissing them in greeting before going on their way.
There is no possible way his heart could go any faster, Wei Wuxian thinks, right before Lan Wangji fits his palm against the center-left of his chest, promptly proving him wrong. There is no possible way Lan Wangji can feel the rapidly beating pressure against his skin through the thick material of sweater, no way he can guess how close to screaming Wei Wuxian is. He is proven wrong, again, when he sees a further uptick in the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips, the same almost-smirk he makes whenever he is teasing Wei Wuxian.
Well, goal accomplished. Wei Wuxian thinks he will be fine on set now, considering his first, second, and possibly fiftieth kisses have been taken care of. Wei Wuxian thinks they might have been taken care of by someone he might be a little bit in love with. Wei Wuxian thinks his heart is racing so fast and his blood is rushing through him with such strength that he can feel his pulse in his cheeks, in his toes, in his - In summary, every blood vessel in his body might burst within seconds, which is unfortunate, because he was on the brink of having enough courage to say -
“Wei Ying. I like you.” This is it. He is going to pass out. Then explode. The blood stains will never leave this pristine room, he will traumatize the love of his life, and then he won’t even get the chance to comfort him or help with clean up because he will be dead, looking on from the afterlife, waiting until Lan Wangji is okay again before asking whoever is in charge if he can haunt Jiang Cheng as a prank.
“Lan Wangji! How dare you! I know you can feel how fast my heart is beating right now! I am but a fragile and weak man! You can’t do that” Wei Wuxian wails, followed by a futile attempt to cover his face with his now-sweaty hands that are immediately intercepted and stopped. Lan Wangji is looking at him so sincerely , with shining eyes that speak of hope and amusement and joy. And he is still fucking smiling! Oh GOD, I hope Jiang Cheng has good reactions to being haunted because I will be seeing him soon.
“I thought Wei Ying was strong enough to lift all of our castmates.” Lan Wangji says, without inflection, then releases the captured offenders to grab Wei Wuxian's wrist and trail his touch up the connected arm to pinch his bicep. Wei Wuxian yelps.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about! This is cruelty, how could you? Not only that, I was supposed to tell you first! You beat me by a few seconds. What happened to my reserved Lan Zhan? Huh? When did you get so talkative?” Wei Wuxian whines, earning him another pinch, but this time to his hip, where Lan Wangji’s large hand returned to rest, sending a hoard of butterflies migrating through his stomach from his hip.
“Tell me what?” Lan Wangji asks, smug, as if the bastard doesn’t know. Wei Wuxian wants to keep up their banter, but he doesn’t think he can hold the words in any longer.
“Lan Zhan, of course I like you, too. How could I know you and feel anything less? Who at all could ever know you and not know you’re the best person ever? Who could - Who could know you and not love you?” Lan Wangji breathes in sharply, once, twice before he immediately sits up, and Wei Wuxian is not even given a second to panic because he is pulled up right alongside him, and pulled into the tightest hug he’s ever been given. He gives himself over to the security he feels being wrapped up in strong arms, feels the breaths flowing regularly into the crook of his neck. He hears the whispered call of his name, held safe between an adored pair of lips, treasured, and Wei Wuxian wonders how he didn’t see it the whole time. Which is when he starts laughing.
“Wei Ying?” comes Lan Wangji’s muffled voice, from where he is still firmly hidden in the junction between Wei Wuxian’s neck and shoulder.
“Lan Zhan. Our fans knew we liked each other before we did. They even gave us a ship name, remember?” An disapproving hum comes from below again, then Lan Wangji lifts his head, and the cool air that rushes in to replace the warmth of his cheeks sends tingles through down Wei Wuxian's neck.
“I knew I loved Wei Ying when we were filming, before Saber or our promo interviews were released,” Lan Wangji responds, narrowing his eyes slightly, like Wei Wuxian might try to refute him. He knows me so well.
“There is no way you liked me back then, Lan Zhan! It took you weeks to warm up to me! Weeks!” Wei Wuxian argues, hands still wrapped around Lan Wangji’s waist and pressing tighter. He has no plans to move them.
He continues, “Wait! Does this mean all those times you glared at me for lifting Mianmian and the others, you were jealous?” He goads, then dissolves into laughter when Lan Wangji immediately looks away, huffing out a “ridiculous!” which Wei Wuxian knows means that he was right, but Lan Wangji is too prideful to admit it.
Lan Wangji returns his gaze to Wei Wuxian, lifts both hands to move Wei Wuxian’s hair back from his shoulders, fingers brushing purposefully against the sides of his neck along the way. The unruly strands had been falling out of their ponytail since Wei Wuxian first flopped onto the bed, earlier. Wei Wuxian does not think he will ever get used to the feeling of Lan Wangji so casually initiating this physical intimacy with him, nor does he want to adapt to it. “It took me time to become… comfortable around you, because I was overwhelmed about how I felt about you."
“Do you know how cute you are? You acted like an irritated cat towards me for weeks because you liked me too much? I am never going to stop talking about this. You should tell me to leave now, because I am not going to shut up.”
“You already never shut up. No leaving,” Lan Wangji says sternly, and winds his arms back around Wei Wuxian’s middle to pull him fully into his lap.
“LAN ZHAN!” Wei Wuxian starts, ready to defend his own honor or yell about being in his lap, but then Lan Wangji kisses him again, and there is no more talking.