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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian has been back on Earth for less than two days before Jiang Cheng calls him and demands that he return to Hell.

“You know I can’t,” Wei Wuxian says to the old lady whom Jiang Cheng is currently possessing. “Meng Yao told me that I shouldn’t expect to get another day off for the next decade. Besides, I like it here – stop that, people are staring.”

The thunder that had previously been sounding through the whole street quiets down, and the lady’s eyes return back to their usual colour, a somewhat guilty expression on her face. “In Hell, this wouldn’t be a problem,” she says.

“Yes, yes, I know – in Hell it wouldn’t be a problem, in Hell people still drink blood and eat the souls of the damned, in Hell the sun never shines and no one ever gets sunburned.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the old lady says, in her own voice but with Jiang Cheng’s ever-present angry tone. “You know I would never eat a soul.” It’s true, too: Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian knows, thinks that humans are disgusting. He prides himself on only ever having been to Earth once.

Wei Wuxian’s phone buzzes with the reminder that he still has two other appointments today. He says, “Listen, Jiang Cheng, I’ve gotta go, but it was great catching up! Hey, look, what’s that?” With one gloved hand, he pulls out the reusable thermos flask he always keeps in his backpack, opens the lid and throws its contents in the old lady’s face. Immediately, there is an inhuman shriek, thunder crashes again, for just one second the lady’s eyes go black once more, she only has time to shout, “Wei Wuxian-!” – and then it’s over. Wei Wuxian replaces the flask, careful not to let any of the residue holy water touch his skin, and catches the old lady as she faints.

“Nothing to see, nothing to see,” he tells curious passers-by who stop to check whether the old woman is alright. Just then, she wakes up, pale und shaken but overall unharmed. Possession is basically like taking a really long nap on a weekday afternoon: it makes you feel really woozy and disoriented at first, and you kind of wish you had just had a cup of coffee instead, but in the end, it’s more annoying than actually bad for you.

“What happened?” the old lady asks.

Satisfied that she’s still breathing and probably not brain-damaged (alright, so it’s only sort of like taking a nap), Wei Wuxian wishes her a good day, tells one of the onlookers to get her some juice or something, and takes off in the direction of the subway.

Even after he’s been stationed in this city for almost five years now, Wei Wuxian still enjoys taking the subway. He likes it best during rush hour, when all the bodies are pressed together and there’s way too much direct skin contact, and you can never quite tell whether this guy next to you just groped you or was just reaching for his phone. There’s just something about the collective anxiety over getting into the wagon and then getting off at the right stop, pushing through the bulk of passengers and finally making it back to the platform, that appeals to Wei Wuxian. It’s best in summer, with everyone wearing as few clothes as possible and being generally really sweaty and gross, but that’s just a personal preference.

It’s only mid-morning and therefore slightly less busy than during every other time of day, so Wei Wuxian is even able to secure a seat for himself. He texts Wen Qing that he’s almost there and spends the remainder of the ride scrolling through Twitter. His tweet, which is just a tiny train emoji followed by an emoji that’s rolling its eyes, has already been retweeted half a million times by the time he gets off the train.

Wen Qing’s doctor’s office is perched in between a takeaway place for Indian food and a store that only sells plastic venetian carnival masks. They don’t live in Venice, but that doesn’t seem to bother the store owner.

Wei Wuxian casts a brief glance around and then pokes the door knocker with one finger. The door knocker, which is shaped like a dragon head, blinks lazily at him and doesn’t move. Wei Wuxian pokes it again.

“Stop that,” the dragon door knocker tells him. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Let me in,” Wei Wuxian demands.

“Wen Qing will be receiving you shortly and asks you to wait-“

Wei Wuxian, impatient, grabs the door knocker and bangs its dragon head against the door exactly three times.

“-outside,” the door knocker finishes spitefully, its voice muffled since the door has swung open.

Wen Qing is in Examination Room 1, marked as such by a cheerful sign that is entirely redundant, seeing as there isn’t a second examination room. She’s busy taking the pulse of a red-skinned demon with horns that are not unlike Wei Wuxian’s own, if he dropped his glamour. It’s only after both Wen Qing and her patient look up in dismay at the intrusion that Wei Wuxian recognises the demon: it’s Mianmian, whom Wei Wuxian hasn’t seen since the academy. For a while he’d thought he could fall in love with her, maybe, if he really put his mind to it.

“You’re both early and two days late,” Wen Qing tells him and adds, this time directed at Mianmian, “And I’m afraid there’s nothing wrong with you. No sick leave.”

Mianmian groans and puts her shirt back on and claps Wei Wuxian on the shoulder on her way out, leaving before he gets the chance to ask her if they can catch up sometimes. Whatever. Maybe he’ll show up in her mirror soon, talk to her then. They didn’t have a bad breakup on account of never having dated, and they never talked after graduation on account of never being friends. Wei Wuxian didn’t even know she was stationed here. But it can be hard finding a friendly face on earth. Falling in love with Mianmian hasn’t worked; maybe they can become friends instead.

He hops on the examination table that Mianmian has just abandoned, pulling off his shirt in one swift motion. “Do your worst!”

Wen Qing looks unimpressed. She pokes him with a needle, then another one, draws a probe of clear green blood and eventually asks him to take a deep breath while she reaches into his chest and probes his heart. As always, it’s strange and uncomfortable but also a little exciting, and Wei Wuxian is almost disappointed when she withdraws. “We’ll have a look at your bloodwork, but other than that, you’re clear,” she declares. “Welcome back to Earth.”

“I was gone for three whole weeks,” Wei Wuxian says. “Did you miss me?”

“When you’re in Hell, your brother calls me every day to complain about you. When you’re on Earth, Meng Yao calls me every day to complain about you. I hardly noticed a difference.”

“Meng Yao! He just doesn’t understand the work I’m doing, you know. Ungrateful!”

“Careful,” Wen Qing says in a warning undertone.

 Wei Wuxian watches her disinfect her hands and straighten her scrubs, readying herself for her next patient. “Are you going to tell me that the walls have ears?”

“I’m going to tell you that Meng Yao asked for a meeting and he arrived early. Earlier than you, in fact. He’s waiting in the hallway.” Wen Qing smiles at him.

Either he really has been listening in, or he just has impeccable timing – either way, the door opens and Meng Yao steps in, bowing deeply to Wen Qing and then bowing to Wei Wuxian with decidedly less enthusiasm.

“Healer Wen, Wei Wuxian, it’s good to see you.”

“Totally,” Wei Wuxian responds, trying to sound sincere. He’s still shirtless, and now he subtly flexes his muscles, just to see if Meng Yao sneaks a look. He doesn’t.

“You should get dressed before you catch a cold,” Meng Yao says serenely. Rumour has it that Meng Yao has a thing for humans. Like, a thing. As in, has a secret human boyfriend. Wei Wuxian has tried to find evidence for this ever since he first heard the story, but has yet to succeed. Sure, Meng Yao didn’t stare at his abs, but

Wei Wuxian supposes he can’t be everyone’s type. Being attractive to 100 % of both Hell’s and Earth’s population would just be ridiculous. Still, he flexes his muscles once again, just to see.

Both Meng Yao and Wen Qing frown at him. Sulking a little, Wei Wuxian puts his shirt back on.

Back on the street, he checks his phone to see how late he is for his second appointment. It turns out that he has five minutes to get to the other end of the city, a feat that even a cab couldn’t accomplish in less than an hour, with the subway taking significantly more time. Wei Wuxian spares a mournful look for the subway station, then shifts into a red-eyed raven.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says as he arrives some time later, still bedraggled from the flight and encounters with two ravens, several pigeons, and a drone. “Have a seat, have a drink, have some cocaine.”

Wei Wuxian sits down heavily on the couch, accepts the drink and declines the cocaine. It’s not like it would have an effect on them anyway; Nie Huaisang just likes the aesthetic of it, he claims.

“Welcome back to Earth,” Nie Huaisang says, just like Wen Qing had earlier. “How was the visit home?”

“Terrible. Worst vacation I’ve ever had. It was one long series of family meetings.”

“And a wedding in between,” Nie Huaisang notes. “Congratulations to your sister.”

Wei Wuxian makes a face. “She’s stuck with the peacock forever now. And now that Shijie is successfully married off, Madam Yu has turned her efforts to Jiang Cheng and me. Horrible! I knew I had to get out as soon as she started pointing out all the singles to me at the wedding reception.”

“It’s hard to make a luckier match than one of the princes of Hell.”

“Jin Zixuan is the lucky one,” Wei Wuxian says, “to get someone as good as Shijie! Oh, wow, is this empty already?” He turns his glass upside down, so that a little bit of whiskey trickles out and lands on the very expensive leather couch. Nie Huaisang shrugs and refills the tumbler, while Wei Wuxian snaps his fingers so that the stain disappears.

“Anyway,” Wei Wuxian says a little later, currently nursing his fourth drink, “what about you, eh? I ran into your brother while I was home. He said to ask you if you were done with your phase yet.”

“Oh, I’ve been over it ages ago. No one is into making superhero movies anymore. I’ve turned to a new passion.” Nie Huaisang waves his hand about the room, and for the first time, Wei Wuxian really takes in his surroundings. Nie Huaisang’s office has always been in a skyscraper with a spectacular view, but where just a few months ago, cardboard figures of popular superheroes and a whole show-case full of awards lined the walls, there are now, mostly, photos of very, very pretty people.

“Fashion,” Nie Huaisang explains grandly.

Wei Wuxian thinks that Nie Mingjue was probably talking about Earth in general, but that’s a lost cause. Nie Huaisang has been here as long as Wei Wuxian has, and they have both taken to Earth in a way unusual for demons. Neither of them have plans to leave any time soon.

“What, like, dresses?” Wei Wuxian asks. His mind is a little sluggish right now. He could make himself sober, if he really wanted to, but what would be the point of that?

Nie Huaisang shakes his head sadly at Wei Wuxian’s ignorance. “Everything! Dresses, suits, everything in between. It’s why I’ve taken over Vogue.”

“Vogue?”

“And a few designer lines – but I digress. I’ve asked you here to-“

“-to get me to model for you!” Wei Wuxian points at him as excitement begins to overtake him. “Of course! It’s hard to resist this face. The only problem is that the clothes would kind of distract from that – do you think you could put nudes on the cover? Much to think about.”

Nie Huaisang pours him another drink and says, “Wei-xiong, I already have a model for the cover page. And all the other pages, actually.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian slumps in his seat. “Then what do you need with me?”

Patting him on the arm, Nie Huaisang says, “Oh, nothing. Just your seventeen million followers. How would you like to promote my next edition?”

***

At their weekly family breakfast, Lan Qiren asks his nephews if there are any news. He asks this very suspiciously, as though he hopes that there won’t be, but fears otherwise.

“I have taken up pottery,” Lan Xichen says and takes a sip from his tea. It is only then that Lan Wangji notices that Lan Xichen’s cup is made of clay and clumsily painted. As he sips it, a bit of hot tea drips out. Lan Xichen smiles serenely and pretends not to notice.

Embarrassed for his brother, Lan Wangji changes the topic by answering the question as well. “I have been booked for a new photoshoot.” He pauses, then adds, perhaps a little spitefully, “The photographer wants me in a skirt.”

“Excellent,” Lan Qiren says firmly. “I’m so happy for both of you.” He is gripping his mug very tightly, but since this one is not self-made, it does not break. Over the past few years, Lan Qiren has changed his parenting tactics from Stern and Controlling to Stern and Supportive, and all it took was for one of his nephews to suffer a nervous breakdown at work and the other to drop out of college to become a runway model. Lan Wangji appreciates his uncle’s efforts, even though he does not appreciate that they were only made after two years of radio silence.

“What’s the photoshoot for, Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks. Unlike Uncle, Lan Xichen has always supported his choices, although they came with a lot of worried looks, uncomfortable questions, and unwanted checks that Lan Wangji would cash in and then donate the money to charities.

“Vogue. A renowned fashion magazine,” he adds for his family’s benefit. “I have been asked to give an interview, as well.”

“Well,” Lan Qiren says after a small pause. “Tell me when the next edition is out, then. I’ll put up your photos in the living room.” Lan Qiren looks proud of himself for suggesting this. Against his own volition, Lan Wangji’s gaze wanders to the living room walls, which are full of pictures from his previous photoshoots, something that never fails to make heat creep up his neck. For a man who had refused to put up any pictures of his nephews as children, because he claimed it was tacky, Lan Qiren has had an impressive change of heart once the pictures started earning money, Lan Wangji thinks, and immediately feels guilty. It had been an unkind thought: Lan Qiren, he knows, does not care about wealth. This is just how he shows his support. It is embarrassing, but Lan Wangji can live with that. Especially because he just realised that the tea pot on the table is self-made, too. It has a flower and a smiley face painted on it.

After breakfast, Lan Wangji allows his brother to drive him home. Unlike him, Lan Xichen not only has a licence, but also owns a car, and he happily uses it to drive Lan Wangji to places as often as possible. Lan Wangji, who does not particularly enjoy taking the subway, does not mind.

“I don’t think pottery is for me,” Lan Xichen confesses at a red light. “But A-Yao suggested it, so I will stick with it for a while longer yet. I plan to make him a flowerpot.”

Lan Wangji makes a noncommittal noise to avoid giving his opinion on the likelihood of Lan Xichen making a usable pot. Perhaps Meng Yao will like it, he supposes. Anything seems possible.

“He sends his regards, by the way. He so wants to meet you. But he keeps the oddest working hours, and our schedules barely line up as it is.” Lan Xichen smiles fondly like working late is an endearing trait.

Lan Wangji makes another noise of vague assent and stares out the window. He is happy that his brother has found someone; this does not equal a desire to meet that someone.

Soon enough, they’ve arrived in front of his apartment building. Lan Xichen pulls over so that Lan Wangji can get out and makes him promise to call soon. Lan Wangji watches until the car disappears behind a street corner, then turns on his heels and walks to the takeaway place at the end of the street. Back when their weekly breakfasts were first reinstated, Lan Wangji used to reward himself afterwards by going to the Indian place near his apartment and getting the mildest curry on the menu to eat later for lunch. Now the family meetings have become less horrible, but he has seen no reason to break this tradition he has with himself.

While he waits for the curry to be done, he watches the pedestrians through the shop window. As always, there are some tourists who fell prey to the store that sells venetian carnival masks. Lan Wangji quietly judges them.

A second later, he blinks in surprise. For a moment, it almost looked like a man outside on the street disappeared in front of his very eyes. In his place, a raven now flies away into the distance. Lan Wangji shakes his head, blinks again, and the raven is gone. As a child, Lan Wangji has never been scolded for having an overactive imagination, on account of this not being the case. It seems strange that he should develop one now.

Considering this, Lan Wangji decides that it does not matter. By the time that his food is ready, he has already put the incident aside in his mind.

***

Wei Wuxian is sitting cross-legged while hovering three feet above the ground when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Nie Huaisang, texting him that the new Vogue is out. He’s attached a few promotional pictures that he wants Wei Wuxian to use. Wei Wuxian plans to make a few lacklustre posts about it and call it a day, but figures that he should at least look at the front cover, just so that it’s not completely half-assed. He clicks on the picture. His mouth goes dry. He looks at the next picture too, and the one after that. Then, he calls Nie Huaisang. On his phone, because they both like the idea of phones and also because their side controls Apple, so who’s going to listen in?

“Who’s the guy?” he blurts out.

“The guy?”

“The guy. On the cover. The model.” In his excitement, Wei Wuxian forgets that he’s still in mid-air and crashes to the ground. It hurts, but there’s no time to care about that now.

“Do you mean Lan Wangji?” Nie Huaisang sounds confused, but also a little smug.
Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian mouths the name to himself, committing it to memory. Lan Wangji. “Is he one of us?” Wei Wuxian is fairly sure that he would remember someone like this, but then again, Hell is big and his memory notoriously bad.

But Nie Huaisang only says, “He’s human. Unfairly pretty, so I did a background check on him as soon as he walked in, but he hasn’t made any deals, he doesn’t have secret siren heritage, nothing. Big in the fashion scene right now but practically unheard of everywhere else, including Hell. Wei-xiong, why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Wei Wuxian says immediately. Not trusting himself to fly again, he’s sprawled out on the couch instead, holding his phone to his ear, gaze lifted dramatically to the ceiling. “No reason at all! Just, he’s, you probably photoshop these things, right? So he doesn’t actually look like that. He’s really ugly, probably.”

“Oh, no, the photos were pretty accurate.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says faintly, and hangs up. His phone buzzes again at once, because once Nie Huaisang suspects gossip he never lets it go, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t answer. He’s too busy scrolling through the pictures again. It’s seven in total, but only three have Lan Wangji on them, so he deletes the other ones and zooms in on Lan Wangji’s face. He is unfairly pretty, he thinks. If Nie Huaisang hadn’t assured him otherwise, he would have assumed Lan Wangji to be an incubus. He still would, except that Nie Huaisang’s background checks are usually pretty accurate. So this dude is human. That’s so weird. Also, he’s wearing a pale purple dress on the third picture, so it turns out that Wei Wuxian was totally right actually and this is what fashion is all about.

The next time Nie Huaisang calls, Wei Wuxian picks up. “Give me his number,” he demands.

“Wei-xiong! That would be a serious violation of client-employer-integrity, and I won’t stand for it! Besides, I don’t think he’s willing to make a deal, anyway. I offered him a diet coke during the job interview and he said no. What kind of man says no to a diet coke? Only someone truly good and just.”

Wei Wuxian guiltily puts the coke back in the fridge and takes out a yoghurt instead. “I don’t want to make a deal,” he says.

“Well? What then?”

Wei Wuxian hesitates, thinks back to the photographs, to Lan Wangji’s serious face, the way he’d looked in expensive designer clothes. He says, “I want to eat his soul.”

“Oh.” Nie Huaisang sounds intrigued. “I see. Well, then that’s different! I’ll tell you what. We’ve booked him for another shoot next week. Come by, post about it on Instagram, meet Lan Wangji and rip his beating heart right out of his chest.”

Wei Wuxian is sold. “I’m sold,” he says. “You’re a good friend, Nie-xiong.”

“The best,” Nie Huaisang agrees.

***

Five years ago

When Wei Wuxian announces at the board meeting that he’s going to become an influencer on Instagram, the reactions are mixed.

“What’s Instagram?” someone asks, which, honestly, that guy clearly shouldn’t be part of the Earth division. Despite what people think, Wei Wuxian didn’t actually cheat his way through the academy. He studied hard, he took all the obligatory internships, he wrote his thesis on social media and what a good idea Twitter was, and after graduation, he joined the Division for Indoctrination, Lobbying and Feeding, DILF for short. They’re divided into two sections: the operatives who stay in Hell and essentially have desk jobs, and the operatives who’re sent to Earth. Wei Wuxian has known from the second he saw the posting for the job that he wanted to be part of the latter group.

In all the turmoil Meng Yao remains the only one who has yet to say a word to Wei Wuxian’s suggestion. That sucks, since Meng Yao is Wei Wuxian’s direct boss and therefore the only one who’s opinion matters here.

Meng Yao steeples his fingers against his chin and says, “Hm.”

Hm is not a good noise. It’s not terrible, but it also doesn’t exactly express full support. Wei Wuxian can do better than a Hm. “I have it all planned out,” he says, to the room at large, but mostly to Meng Yao. “Here, I’ll demonstrate. What do we want most? That’s right: humans devoting their life and soul to our Lord and Saviour Satan himself. How are we currently doing it? By making deals. Deals that take ages! It’s one soul at a time. What I’m proposing would give us thousands of souls within one second.”

There’s a brief silence, which Wei Wuxian interprets as all his colleagues being old and boring. He’s got nothing against senior citizens, and sure, he knows that they built Hell up from the ground and he should be thankful for their hard work etcetera etcetera, but there comes a point where one should ask oneself, should they still be allowed to have a job? Not if they don’t know what Instagram is, Wei Wuxian thinks.

Meng Yao, who isn’t that much older than Wei Wuxian and therefore the most likely to understand, says, “Hm.”

Desperate now, Wei Wuxian says, “I’ve made a Cost-Benefit Analysis.”

“Hm.”

“There’s a graph!”

Meng Yao looks at him, and smiles.

***

Whoever decided to do the photoshoot in the park has obviously not realised that it is February. Just the walk from the subway station over here is enough for the cold to seep into Lan Wangji’s very bones, and it doesn’t get any better once he gets sent to the wardrobe trailer and is handed a piece of clothing that is almost transparent. Lan Wangji touches the flimsy fabric and thinks that he can see what the photographer is going for – combined with his pale skin and the snow outside, it will look as though he is made of ice.

“If you catch a cold,” says the cheerful intern, “you could always sue.”

“I will consider it,” Lan Wangji tells her, and allows himself to be ushered outside, where someone will apply his makeup before the shoot.

Photoshoots are always a flurry of activity, but it’s especially bad if they’re held outdoors. Lan Wangji knows this, has resigned himself to waiting at least an hour more before they can start, and still he enjoys these shootings the most. The artificial lights inside a studio tend to give him migraines; here, the light is still artificial, but at least it’s combined with the clear sky above.

The intern has abandoned him, so Lan Wangji looks around, hoping to spot the person who’s supposed to do his makeup. No one is paying attention to him, and no one seems to feel responsible. A few metres to the right, a group of people are trying to instal a set of swings on a tree. So far, the tree proves resistant. He frowns.

Then, just as he prepares to head back inside the trailer, someone taps him on the shoulder. Lan Wangji turns – and stops.

For the first, irrational second, he thinks that he was misinformed, and they’ve hired a second model after all. Then he mentally reprimands himself: this man is clearly not a model. His clothes are expensive, but not meant to catch the eye, and besides, just the fact that he is wearing clothing that is not see-through proves that he isn’t here to be photographed. He should be, though. If Lan Wangji is supposed to look like ice today, the man before him is made of fire. Everything about him is loud, intense, and warm. When he smiles, Lan Wangji feels something hot unfurl in his gut.

“Hey,” the man says, still smiling. “Lan Wangji?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. His voice sounds entirely normal to his own ears; steady, even though he doesn’t feel it. Yet for some reason the man’s smile falters as he speaks, and now that Lan Wangji has turned around to face him fully, he cannot seem to decide where to look. His gaze flits between his clothes and his face, and eventually settles at somewhere around his lips, only to immediately go back up to his eyes. Lan Wangji, who is used to attention, nevertheless has to swallow, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

If the man had meant to say something else, he seems to have changed his mind, and so they are caught at a standstill: this man, staring at him; Lan Wangji, unable to look away yet unable to speak.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Are you the makeup artist?”

He knows he has guessed right when the man smiles again. “Yes! That’s right. Let’s go find a spot to sit somewhere, shall we?” Being reminded of his vocation seems to have smoothed away the nervous edges of the man. He is more relaxed now, holding himself confidently as he leads Lan Wangji through the mess of cables and equipment and people, over to an empty chair near the swing set which has, it seems, finally been attached successfully. Lan Wangji sits down and closes his eyes, opening them again after a few seconds of nothing happening.

The man colours, embarrassed. “Right! Sorry, sorry, I just needed a moment. I’m ready now! Close your eyes again.” This time, it doesn’t take long for Lan Wangji to feel a brush tickling his cheeks, applying foundation.

“I’m Wei Wuxian,” the man says after a while of working in silence. “So, modelling, huh?”

Lan Wangji does not reply, partly because if he moves now, he will ruin his makeup, and partly because such a question does not deserve an answer. Wei Wuxian seems to agree, because he laughs quietly. “You’re right, what a stupid thing to ask. Hold still now – that’s it.” Despite his own request, Wei Wuxian still uses his free hand to hold Lan Wangji in place by his shoulder. Lan Wangji should be annoyed that he is treated as a child unable to follow a simple order, but the truth is that he is barely able to breathe from their prolonged contact.

“This is my first time at a photoshoot,” Wei Wuxian confesses. “I didn’t know – no one told me you’d be dressed like this. So unfair! You’d think that someone might have warned me.”

“Warned you?” Lan Wangji asks, startling Wei Wuxian enough that he almost drops his brush.

“Aiyoh,” he says once he has recovered, “warned me that you’d be just, walking around, looking like this! Keep your eyes closed now.” A second later, Wei Wuxian gently applies eyeliner, his breath tickling Lan Wangji’s cheek. “So pretty,” he whispers, although Lan Wangji cannot tell if he’s being complimented or whether Wei

Wuxian is merely praising his own work. “Are you sure you didn’t make a deal with anyone?”

“A deal?” Lan Wangji says, annoyed that he is reduced to echoing Wei Wuxian’s words, but also genuinely unsure what Wei Wuxian is talking about.

Wei Wuxian laughs again. “Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just joking. Open your mouth a little – oh, and you can open your eyes, too, if you want.” Lan Wangji wants; he blinks and finds himself only inches away from Wei Wuxian’s face. A shiver runs through him, which is highly embarrassing and which immediately makes Wei Wuxian move away in concern. “Are you cold? I didn’t even think – you must be freezing! Here you go.” Already he’s unzipped his black hoodie and is handing it to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji thinks about how he is currently wearing very, very expensive clothes, and then decides he does not care. He puts on the hoodie, realising that it’s still a little warm. Blood rushes to his cheeks. He has been wearing almost entirely transparent clothing in a place bustling with people, and yet, putting on an additional layer seems infinitely more intimate.

“Better?” Wei Wuxian asks. Lan Wangji nods. “Great! Alright, just your lipstick now. Part your lips, please.” As Wei Wuxian moves in again, Lan Wangji is almost tempted to turn his head just a little, just to smear the line so that Wei Wuxian has to reapply it. But if he did that, he would have to sit through Wei Wuxian’s proximity for another few minutes, and who knows what shameful reaction he would have then?

At last, Wei Wuxian declares him done, stepping away to admire his work. “Do you want to see? I’ll get you a mirror.” He’s gone before Lan Wangji can protest, and returns soon enough with a tall mirror that looks like it’s been stolen from the wardrobe trailer. Judging by the guilty look Wei Wuxian throws over his shoulder, it has been. “Go on!”

Lan Wangji does not normally look at himself before a shoot. He will see the pictures afterwards, in the magazine and on Uncle’s living room wall; besides, if he has to look at anyone, he would prefer it to be Wei Wuxian. Still, he obediently glances at his image in the mirror that Wei Wuxian is holding up.

He knew that the photographer was aiming at an androgynous look; if the clothes, not quite a dress but also not dissimilar to one, were the overture to that, then the makeup Wei Wuxian has applied is its grand finale. Though he is not usually prone to vanity, he finds himself transfixed by his reflection now.

“Do you like it?” Wei Wuxian sounds nervous.

“Yes.” He doesn’t have words for how much he likes it; if he did, he would still not dare to voice them.

“Good! Hey, I think the photographer wants you, so you should probably take off that hoodie. Sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, unnecessarily, since it is not his fault that Lan Wangji has a job.

As Wei Wuxian reaches for the hoodie, still propping up the mirror with one hand, Lan Wangji thinks he sees something in the reflection. For just one second, it almost seemed like there was a flash of red skin and sharp nails in the mirror.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, frowning at him, “are you okay? Do you need to sit down? I can tell the photographer that you need a break; he shouldn’t be working you this hard, anyway!” It’s not a very logical criticism, because Lan Wangji has yet to actually do the work he is getting paid for today, but he appreciates it anyway. A little regretfully, he watches Wei Wuxian put on the hoodie again.

“I am well.” He hesitates, then adds, “I must go.”

“Of course, of course! I don’t want to keep you. Keep it real, and all that.” Wei Wuxian grimaces, looking mortified.

The photographer calls Lan Wangji’s name again, growing impatient. Lan Wangji, in lieu of a better plan, nods at Wei Wuxian and leaves. By the time he has been directed to go sit down on the swing, which has been decorated with hundreds of colourful flowers that will stand in stark contrast to the snowy landscape and Lan Wangji’s outfit, Wei Wuxian is no longer in sight.

***

Okay, okay, okay. Okay. Wie Wuxian is super chill. He can be cool about this. He’s very cool. He’s the coolest.

He has also lost his nerve within two minutes of saying goodbye to Lan Wangji and immediately took the next train to Hell. But! He meant to go visit home, anyway, kind of. And he likes taking the train. It would be easier just to go to the nearest McDonalds and take the portal through their supply closet, but those are always way too cramped, stuffed to bursting with cleaning supplies and skeletons. Getting on Metro Line 4 is just more comfortable.

His compartment is empty safe for one other person, a huge guy in a cloak that sits in the corner and has his staff placed neatly under his seat. It’s possible that he just dressed up for his parents, but it seems just as likely that he really lives on Earth like this. Their kind can get away with a lot of things, just as long as they stay in the big cities. In a city, no one so much as blinks at your leather gear and your glowing red eyes. They’ll just assume that you’re on your way to a fetish club.

Still, Wei Wuxian prefers Earth clothing. There is just something about sweatpants that no scary cape can even hope to imitate.

It will be at least one more hour until they arrive at their destination, so Wei Wuxian checks his phone. No new messages. He hasn’t told anyone that he’s coming home, and if he had, no one would have believed him, anyway. Wei Wuxian doesn’t visit a lot. Returning to Hell less than two weeks after his last visit is very suspicious, and will be taken as either proof of unspeakable crimes, or interest in being set up on lots of blind dates. As neither of these things are true, Wei Wuxian had originally planned to stay on Earth for at least a year or, alternatively, until his baby nephew will be carried into the world in the claws of a hellhound. But that was Before.

Before earlier this morning.

Before Lan Wangji.

It’s not Wei Wuxian’s fault that his body chose the precise moment of looking into Lan Wangji’s eyes for the first time to develop all these confusing feelings. Like he wanted to dig his claws into Lan Wangji’s torso, break open his ribcage and swallow his heart whole, but also like maybe he wanted to hold Lan Wangji’s hand while he was doing it? That’s bewildering, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t like it. So he did the only logical thing, and got on the metro.
In the corner, Cloak Guy shifts in his seat a little. He catches Wei Wuxian looking, so Wei Wuxian waves at him and hopes he’s not about to be cornered into an awkward conversation. But Cloak Guy averts his gaze again, so Wei Wuxian is free to look out the window. They have passed the border between the mortal realm and the realm of the damned, and the rest of the journey will be mostly bleak landscapes. Not like the park earlier. Wei Wuxian wishes he had stayed, so he could have gotten to see the photoshoot. Lan Wangji must have looked so pretty! Instead, Wei Wuxian fled like a coward, and now he doesn’t even know if Lan Wangji did a good job.

Well. That’s ridiculous. Of course Lan Wangji did a good job. He doesn’t need Wei Wuxian to watch over him, he’s the best. Everyone says so! The internet certainly does, and so does Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang. Now, that’s a thought. Wei Wuxian digs out his phone again.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t pick up.

Frustrated, Wei Wuxian actually breathes a little bit of fire that ends up setting the seat ablaze. He extinguishes the fire with a wave and ignores Cloak Guy’s judgemental look.

The door to their compartment opens, and a ticket inspector comes in. “Tickets, please,” he says. Cloak Guy holds up something that looks a lot like a rotten apple, but it seems to satisfy the ticket inspector, who nods and turns to Wei Wuxian. “Tickets, please.”

Wei Wuxian says, “It’s fine, I’m just going to see my family.”

“Tickets, please.”

“It’s not even a very long trip. I’ll be back on Earth by tomorrow. Just staying the night!”

“Tickets, please.”

“Okay, fine, I don’t have one. But my family can-“

There is a loud screech as the train comes to a sudden stop. Wei Wuxian and the ticket inspector look at each other, while Cloak Guy has pulled down his hood and appears to have fallen asleep.

“Are you serious?” Wei Wuxian demands. “Come on. What are you going to do, kick me out?”

Five minutes later, he has sat down by the tracks and the train has long since disappeared into the distance. His phone is not getting signal, which figures. Wei Wuxian sulks for another few minutes, and then he turns into smoke and starts the long way back to Earth. By the time that he’s getting reception again, he has one missed call.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says without preamble, “you’re not very busy, are you?”

“What, like, right now?”

“No, in general. You don’t exactly do a lot, do you?”

Only just physically manifested again, Wei Wuxian’s mind is still a little slow, but he certainly feels like he’s being insulted. “I have-“

“Seventeen million followers on Instagram, yes, yes. Wei-xiong is very impressive.” Nie Huaisang does not sound like he thinks it’s impressive. “But if – if! The opportunity presented itself, then you’d be open for another gig, right?”

“Probably,” Wei Wuxian says honestly.

“Excellent. How would you like to be Lan Wangji’s permanent makeup artist?”

***

For most of his life, Lan Wangji has not felt the need to act on a whim. It’s not that he actively held himself back from following his dreams, or however Lan Xichen put it after they added that Rapunzel movie to Netflix recently. It’s just that it never occurred to him that anything more was possible. He was content with his life, and he surely would have continued to be. When he was approached by a talent scout two months into his business administration degree, that was the first time he ever realised that perhaps his future wasn’t set in stone.

He accepted the business card and dropped out of college that same day. If the modelling thing didn’t work out, he was simply going to have something else that would. Perhaps, he had thought at the time, he could become a kindergarten teacher.
Instead, he’d been on his first runway within the week.

So, historically, making spontaneous decisions has worked out well for Lan Wangji. This is why, when he goes home after the photoshoot and Wei Wuxian pops up in his mind, he doesn’t allow himself to question it. He picks up the phone, and tells Nie Huaisang that he would like Wei Wuxian to do his makeup for every subsequent photoshoot for Vogue. It’s the first time that Lan Wangji allows himself to act entitled in any way, save for that one time he asked an assistant on a set for a commercial if she could bring him a different flavour of tea, because he is allergic to caffeine.

Nie Huaisang tells him that he will do what he can. It is only after they have hung up that Lan Wangji lets doubt sink in. What if Wei Wuxian says no?

If that happens, then the world moves on, he tells himself. It should be of no consequence.

That night, Lan Wangji has trouble falling asleep. He lies awake for many hours, staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to embrace him. Every time he closes his eyes, Wei Wuxian appears. If it was merely the memory of his face, his smile, his laughter, that may even be acceptable. But it’s not, and so the remembered sensation of strong hands gently tilting his head this way and that, of a stray hair brushing his neck as Wei Wuxian bowed over him, of hot breath against his skin, torments Lan Wangji all night.

The next morning, he wakes up at five, meditates, takes a shower and has only just gotten dressed when there is a knock at the door. It is a very loud knock. Thunder almost seems to echo within. Frowning, Lan Wangji buttons up his shirt and goes to answer it.

In front of his apartment is Wei Wuxian.

While Lan Wangji is still processing this unexpected sight, Wei Wuxian apparently has no such compunctions. His entire being seems to light up, and he says, “Good morning! I’m here to- oh.” He is openly staring at Lan Wangji’s outfit, leaving Lan Wangji to wonder what about his attire could possibly be taken offence to. The mystery is solved when Wei Wuxian says, “You look so casual!”

It is, perhaps, the very first time that anyone has ever called Lan Wangji’s clothes casual. As of right now, he is wearing a button-down shirt that is certainly more formal than what Wei Wuxian is wearing, even though it does have a polka dot pattern.

“Anyway,” Wei Wuxian says merrily, undeterred in the face of Lan Wangji’s silence, “Nie Huaisang gave me your address.”

“Nie Huaisang does not have my address,” Lan Wangji points out. He has used a post office box for all business correspondence ever since his first job.

Wei Wuxian waves his objection away like it’s nothing, and accidentally knocks down Lan Wangji’s coat stand in the process. “Well, someone else did, then! Why do you have so many coats? Can I try one on?” He waltzes past Lan Wangji into the apartment and expertly picks out the most expensive coat, which is made of wool and cashmere, keeps him warm in winter, and which is also bright orange. Lan Wangji would have bought it even if he had not received it as part of a sponsorship program with Burberry, simply because it is soft and cosy and he occasionally indulges himself. He has to admit, though, that it looks better on Wei Wuxian. Then again, maybe he is biased.

“Does it suit me?” Wei Wuxian’s laugh suggests that he thinks it doesn’t. Lan Wangji knows he is meant to reply with something teasing; he is utterly unable to. They have not known each other for very long, and yet he already feels certain that conversation comes as easy to Wei Wuxian as breathing. To Lan Wangji, it mostly feels suffocating.

“It suits you,” he says.

Wei Wuxian laughs again, taking it off. “You should have taken this to the shoot yesterday,” he says. “Then you wouldn’t have had to borrow my hoodie!”

Lan Wangji presses his lips together and looks away. “I did not mind.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also an understatement. Lan Wangji did not mind; if Wei Wuxian had not asked for it, he may very well have kept it.

To give himself something to do, he closes the door and rightens the coat stand. Throughout it all, Wei Wuxian makes no move to help. He still has not explained why he is here. Instead, he says things like, (while inspecting Lan Wangji’s living room) “Why don’t you have any photos of your family,” and (holding up one of Lan Wangji’s boots) “I don’t think I could walk on heels, they scare me,” and (waving his phone around) “I googled you and it said that you’re from Beijing, do you know a guy named Song Lan?”. It’s rude and disruptive and Lan Wangji cannot tell if a reply is even expected, because Wei Wuxian just keeps talking.

“So,” Wei Wuxian says at last, once all the coats are back in place and Lan Wangji has taken the boot from him, “should we just get started?”

Lan Wangji’s mind blanks. “Started with what?”

“Your makeup! What else?”

“My makeup,” Lan Wangji repeats slowly. Then realisation hits. Wei Wuxian must be under the mistaken impression that he’s required to – what? Do Lan Wangji’s makeup every day? Come to his apartment every morning and spend an hour just paying very close attention to him? Just the mental image of it is enough to make

Lan Wangji blush shamefully. It would be so easy not to clear up this misunderstanding. But clear it up he must.

After he has finished explaining that Wei Wuxian’s task would be merely to be present at photoshoots, Wei Wuxian’s face falls. It only lasts a second, however. Within the blink of an eye, he’s recovered. He asks, “Can I do your makeup anyway?”

Once again, Lan Wangji finds himself at a loss of what to answer. Every time he thinks he has gotten this conversation under control, Wei Wuxian smashes his carefully cultivated plan into tiny pieces, robbing him off speech.

“You would want to?” he asks, still not sure that he understood correctly.

Wei Wuxian nods enthusiastically. “I think I should braid your hair, too. And then we’ll go out together! I’ll show you the other side of the tracks.”

It is obvious to Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian is imagining them in a Dirty Dancing type of scenario. That is strange, but endearing, and Lan Wangji is willing to play along if it amuses Wei Wuxian. When he gives his assent, Wei Wuxian beams like he has been promised the world.

***

Wei Wuxian takes Lan Wangji to a pub. It’s only nine in the morning, but in his experience, nothing gets friendship going as easy as alcohol. Lan Wangji has got a clear schedule today, so why wouldn’t they go get blackout drunk before lunch? There is literally not a single reason not to.

He does not, naturally, lead them into a human pub. He promised Lan Wangji the other side of the tracks, didn’t he? Among demons Wei Wuxian may not be particularly known for a bad boy image (just the fact that he chose an apartment with a built-in whirlpool instead of a house with a view on the Pit marks him, in the eyes of his kind, as unforgivably soft), but among humans he totally is. He has tattoos! He has several million people following him on various social media accounts because they think his tattoos look really badass!

On the way to the Heaven on Earth bar, Wei Wuxian makes sure to roll up his sleeves and tries to subtly check if Lan Wangji is looking. He is! That just proves that Meng Yao and Wen Qing have terrible taste, because Wei Wuxian knows for a fact that he’s hot.
His sleeves still rolled up, Wei Wuxian pushes a stray strand of hair back into his ponytail. Lan Wangji’s eyes follow the movement. His eyes are so expressive, Wei Wuxian wants to die a little. He wouldn’t let Wei Wuxian braid his hair, but he did allow him to do his makeup again, and when they stepped out of the apartment building earlier, one pedestrian was staring so much that he walked into a lamppost.

“You’re going to love it,” Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji when they’ve arrived, holding open the door for him. The pub he’s taken them to is basically nothing more than a dark basement where someone at some point started serving drinks to their friends and then started charging them for it, with smoke so thick that it obscures the sight and turns everyone’s lungs into a state of stage 2 cancer. It makes Lan Wangji cough immediately, which is super cute. Wei Wuxian puts an arm around his shoulders and steers him towards the bar.

Xue Yang is bartending today, an unfortunate coincidence. He salutes Wei Wuxian and smirks at Lan Wangji. “Bringing a snack? How forward of you. What will people think?”

Wei Wuxian makes a show of looking around the room, which is empty. “Have I missed something? Are all your customers hiding under the tables, or have I turned blind overnight?”

“I hope not,” says an amused voice right behind them, making Wei Wuxian want to perish on the spot. Xiao Xingchen sits down at the bar next to Lan Wangji and smiles at them. His eyes, as always, are covered by a white blindfold, and the tattoos on his hands are glowing in the dim light. “Wei Wuxian, it’s been a while. I’m Xiao Xingchen,” he says to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji, luckily, does not appear to have noticed the glowing tattoos. Wei Wuxian’s own tattoos have started burning in response, so he pulls down his sleeves and hides his hands in his jumper. “I am Lan Wangji. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Great to see you again,” Wei Wuxian adds and immediately winces at himself. This is why he shouldn’t be allowed to talk to any people, ever.

Xiao Xingchen does not take it personally, probably, because he’s really nice, but either way he doesn’t get the chance to say so, since Xue Yang is not used to not being the centre of attention for this long and interrupts. “There’s a rumour going around.” He pours out three shots and slides them over. Wei Wuxian downs his, while Xiao Xingchen and Lan Wangji don’t move. “The rumour is that Yu Furen is looking to marry you off.”

“Rumours, rumours,” Wei Wuxian says and drinks Xiao Xingchen’s shot as well when Xiao Xingchen isn’t looking which, to be fair, is always. “She’d have to get me to come home first. Lan Wangji, you should drink more!”

They’re the only customers, and so it’s easy to hear what Lan Wangji is saying over the jazz song playing in the background. (Wei Wuxian assumes it is jazz.)

(Wei Wuxian admittedly assumes that it’s jazz about every single earth song he hears.)

(Wei Wuxian has learned many things during his time on Earth, but music is not one of them.)

“I do not drink.”

“What,” Wei Wuxian says, making the music come to a screeching stop with a subtle twitch of his fingers. “What do you mean?”

“I do not drink.”

“Not even alcohol?” Wei Wuxian asks, stunned.

Lan Wangji’s lips twitch slightly, and Wei Wuxian almost falls off his barstool. “Especially not alcohol.”

“Why not?” Wei Wuxian asks, at the same time that Xue Yang demands, “Especially? Especially what? What else don’t you drink?”

Wei Wuxian glares at Xue Yang, trying to subtly signal that he’s talking to Lan Wangji right now and Lan Wangji needs to focus on him. Then, Lan Wangji almost-smiles again, effectively focusing on Wei Wuxian, and this time Wei Wuxian really would have fallen off the stool if Xiao Xingchen’s hand hadn’t shot out to steady him. “Easy,” he cautions.

The music picks back up; Xue Yang must have turned it on again. He currently appears to be cleaning glasses, except that he does this so ineffectively that Wei Wuxian can only assume that he’s never done it before. It’s great that Xue Yang is leaning into the whole bartender aesthetic, but does he have to have his identity crisis right in front of Lan Wangji? Is there anything more embarrassing?

“If Yu Furen summons you back-“ Xiao Xingchen starts.

“-then she won’t get very far, because I got a resistance rune for that as soon as I moved out.” Wei Wuxian proudly pulls down his jumper to show off the rune that he carved into his chest with a knife, some ink, and a lot of good will. Xiao Xingchen obviously can’t appreciate it, but Xue Yang leans in, and even Lan Wangji’s eyes flicker downwards, though only for a split second.

“Is this the time and the place for that?” Xiao Xingchen’s tone holds a gentle warning. As a freelancer, he belongs to the very few who are not subject to Meng Yao’s whims, but Wei Wuxian very much is. And Meng Yao, that’s for sure, would not appreciate Wei Wuxian showing off his runes to a human.

“Did it hurt?” Lan Wangji asks quietly. Wei Wuxian glances at him in surprise.

“Did what hurt?”

He has righted his jumper again, but Lan Wangji’s gesture towards his chest is still unmistakable. “The – rune. It looks painful.”

“It wasn’t,” Wei Wuxian promises. Lan Wangji looks unconvinced, so without thinking about it, he takes his hand. “It really wasn’t, I swear. My tattoos hurt way worse.” He realises his mistake when Lan Wangji’s hand tightens in his. To soothe him, Wei Wuxian strokes his knuckles, as gently as he can manage, which isn’t a lot. One wrong movement, and Lan Wangji’s hand would be broken, just like that. Humans are so fragile. They could literally die at any second, and still Lan Wangji worries that Wei Wuxian’s tattoos could have hurt?

“You should not be in pain,” Lan Wangji says, stoically, seriously, like it’s a fact, like he can will it so.

Wei Wuxian holds his hand tighter and smiles. “Tattoos are supposed to hurt a little,” he says. “That ink is going to be on your body for the rest of eternity. A bit of pain is an adequate price for something that lasts forever, don’t you think?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says immediately. But then his face softens, he almost seems to duck his head a little, and he says, “Yes” instead. Even through the thick smoke in here, Wei Wuxian can see that he’s blushing a little, like he’s embarrassed. He tries to take his hand away; Wei Wuxian doesn’t let him.

“One day,” he says, “you may want to get a tattoo. When you do, come to me. I, Wei Ying, solemnly swear that there won’t be any pain between us.”

“It is,” Lan Wangji says, “a deal.” He can’t be aware of the significance of these words, and yet, Wei Wuxian almost feels feverish with the echo of them.

Xue Yang, who’s been shamelessly listening this whole time, laughs. He points at Lan Wangji with an old dishrag and says, “I think I like you. When he’s through with you, come back to the bar. I’ll get you a job.”

***

At the next family breakfast, Lan Wangji makes one crucial mistake. When Lan Qiren asks if there are any news, his face as always indicating that he hopes there aren’t, and after Lan Xichen has replied that he has joined a crocheting class, Lan Wangji informs them that he has hired a makeup artist.

“You have to hire someone for that?” Lan Qiren asks with a frown. “You’d think that the least these people can do is pay someone right there.” He does not specify who these people are, nor where right there is. Uncle’s idea of how a photoshoot works is incomprehensible to Lan Wangji, yet clearly wrong.

“Wangji knows what he’s doing, Uncle,” Lan Xichen says loyally. “A-Yao always says that he admires that quality in people.”

The mention of Meng Yao makes Lan Qiren’s eye twitch. Like Lan Wangji, Uncle has yet to meet Lan Xichen’s boyfriend, but that has not stopped Meng Yao from sending them cards, vouchers and, on one occasion, flowers. Lan Wangji has instructed the porter in his building not to allow any packages into his apartment; Lan Qiren, who has never talked to a porter in his life, seems to have resigned himself to the unwanted gifts.

“So tell us about him,” Lan Xichen prompts, in the same voice that he would ask Lan Wangji to tell them more about his tea-drinking habits or his meditation that morning – fully supportive and one hundred percent interested. Lan Wangji, who is not interested in very many things, finds this habit of his brother alien and faintly disturbing.

“He is,” he starts, and stops, because what can he say about Wei Wuxian? That Wei Wuxian has not just been doing his makeup, but is also supplying him with tea, snacks and smiles? That he gave Lan Wangji a peony yesterday? That he should be put on the runway, with his looks and the confident way he holds himself? That Lan Wangji wants to touch his tattoos?

“He is kind,” Lan Wangji says eventually. It’s not nearly enough, and yet, it’s not a lie. Besides everything else, Wei Wuxian is, first and foremost, a kind man. How could he not be, with his insistence to befriend Lan Wangji?

“Kind,” Lan Xichen repeats.

“Kind,” Lan Qiren mutters to himself.

“He is also,” Lan Wangji says, “truly exceptional with makeup.” His words make Lan Xichen look first surprised, then amused.

“High praise, Wangji,” he notes.

Lan Wangji straightens his already-straight shoulders and says, “Merely a fact.”

All this time, Lan Qiren has slowly and steadily been stroking his beard. Now, he lowers his hand and expectantly glances at his empty teacup. It’s only after Lan Wangji has dutifully refilled it that he speaks. “You should invite him.”

Silence. Lan Wangji and his brother exchange confused looks. They are not hard of hearing; nevertheless, they must have misunderstood.

“And you, too,” Lan Qiren says to a dazed-looking Lan Xichen. “You can bring your boyfriend, Wangji can bring his assistant, and your forefathers will weep with joy because you’re finally doing this the proper way and honouring your family. It’s long overdue!”

They exchange another glance, this one no less confused. Lan Xichen absently tries to refill Uncle’s cup, only to realise that it is already full and he has just poured tea all over the table. Lan Wangji, meanwhile, has just noticed that Uncle is cleaning the mess with a badly crocheted cloth that fits the equally badly crocheted scarf he is wearing.

Uncle’s invitation is noble and Lan Wangji appreciates it. But it also means that now he has to talk to Wei Wuxian and actually invite him, and also phrase this as optional and casual as possible. Wei Wuxian has frequently called himself a free spirit; therefore, it does not matter that Lan Wangji has never been casual in all his life. He will simply have to adapt.

He starts that very night. Wei Wuxian insisted on walking him home after today’s photoshoot, though walking in this case means taking the subway and stopping by the grocery store to buy ingredients for…Lan Wangji does not know what for, even though he is the one pushing the cart, paying and carrying the bags afterwards. Back in his apartment, Wei Wuxian spreads out all the groceries they just bought and tells Lan Wangji to sit down by the counter and close his eyes during the cooking process, which is apparently supposed to be a surprise. Lan Wangji doesn’t argue. Closing his eyes actually helps in saying what he wants, because this way, he does not have to try and interpret Wei Wuxian’s facial expression.

When the sound of cutting starts, Lan Wangji says, “I have a favour to ask.” Immediately, the cutting stops again.

“Anything! But if you get one, I want one too. It’s only fair.” This unexpected request is so unlike anything that Lan Wangji thought Wei Wuxian would say, that he cannot help it: his eyes fly open. Nothing much has happened yet in terms of cooking; Wei Wuxian is currently not very efficiently slicing up a carrot. Still, he puts down the knife and shakes his head in exaggerated disappointment.

“Ah, Lan Wangji. So disobedient. What am I supposed to do with you?”

Lan Wangji has already closed his eyes again, but instead of continuing to cut vegetables, Wei Wuxian walks around the counter and starts drumming a rhythm on Lan Wangji’s straight back with his fingers. Every touch, though muted through the shirt Lan Wangji is wearing, nevertheless sends a spark through him. “Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian whispers again, suddenly very close, much closer than Lan Wangji expected, right in his ear. One hand is still playing a silent melody on his spine, but the other tugs lightly on his hair, which Lan Wangji had finally allowed him to braid earlier today. “Do you trust me?”

What a ridiculous question. Lan Wangji gives a sharp nod almost before Wei Wuxian is finished speaking. Wei Wuxian laughs – and then, he’s gone, his hands withdrawn, the sound of his footsteps slowly receding. That’s somewhat disheartening, though not enough to turn around and look. Lan Wangji stays where he is, unmoving, and patiently waits until Wei Wuxian returns.               

That happens soon enough. In one moment, he’s still alone, still waiting while Wei Wuxian has disappeared somewhere deeper into his apartment, and the next moment, Wei Wuxian is tickling his cheek with a piece of fabric. “Can you guess what this is?”

“A tie,” Lan Wangji says, hoping that Wei Wuxian does not want him to name the exact one. His answer must be satisfying, since Wei Wuxian hums approvingly.

“Very good!” With that, he blindfolds Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji’s eyes had been shut, but this is a different, more potent kind of darkness. His breath hitches, but Wei Wuxian is right here, tugging at his braid again, a firm reminder that he’s still there, not leaving. “You have to tell me if it’s too much,” he says, laughing again when Lan Wangji makes a protesting noise. “Good!

Stay here.” The cutting picks back up, slow and inefficient, its noise frustrating and grounding at the same time.

“What favour did you want to ask, by the way?” Wei Wuxian asks.

It’s somewhat hard to focus like this, but Lan Wangji forces himself not to drift off. “My uncle. He has invited you to dinner.”

There’s a crash, followed by a curse. “What? Why?” Wei Wuxian asks a few seconds later.

“I believe he is being supportive,” Lan Wangji tells him honestly. “I have told him about you. He expressed the wish to meet you. And that is the favour I’m asking.”

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says after a moment, “I don’t think that’s such a big favour after all! Meeting your uncle is going to be a blast. I want to know who raised someone so perfect. What should I wear?”

Lan Wangji takes a second to consider this. Right now, Wei Wuxian is wearing ripped jeans that almost show more of his legs than regular shorts would, combat boots that he left by the door at Lan Wangji’s request, and a t-shirt with a crude joke printed on it. “Something else,” he decides.

“Don’t you like my outfit?” Wei Wuxian sounds hurt, but Lan Wangji suspects he is being teased.

“I like it,” he replies, honest just in case Wei Wuxian was serious, “but I expect my uncle will not.”

“Fine, fine, you’ve won. I’ll show up in the most prim and proper clothes I own.”

Something starts sizzling, and soon, the smell of meat and vegetables fills the room. He cannot see, yet when he focuses, he can imagine Wei Wuxian standing at the stove right now, stirring whatever is cooking in the pan, his hair tied back as to not interfere with the cooking, mindlessly adding whatever spices come his way.

The mental image makes Lan Wangji smile.

“Almost done,” Wei Wuxian announces. “You can look now.” Lan Wangji moves to take off the blindfold, but when he tries, there are Wei Wuxian’s hands on his, stilling him, and Wei Wuxian’s voice in his ear once again, whispering, “Wait just one more moment. I haven’t gotten my side of the deal yet.”

“Your side?”

“The favour,” Wei Wuxian clarifies. Just these two words are enough to make Lan Wangji’s imagination overflow with ideas as to what exactly could be asked of him. He likes most of the scenarios his mind has come up with, and would be open to the others. Perhaps he would do anything at all, just to feel Wei Wuxian touch him again. “We’ve gotten really familiar with each other recently, right?” Wei Wuxian asks, still close enough that it makes Lan Wangji’s head spin.

“Mn.”

“And you like me, right?”

“Mn.” With his eyes still blindfolded, Lan Wangji can’t be sure, but he thinks that if he leaned in now, his lips would brush over some part of Wei Wuxian’s face. His hands twitch with the urge to reach out.

“So now that we’ve grown close, and you like me a little, I really think we should use personal names,” Wei Wuxian says in a rush.

Disappointment and excitement fill Lan Wangji to equal amounts. It’s not what he’d been hoping for Wei Wuxian to ask, but at the same time, how can he complain when what he gets instead is permission to use Wei Wuxian’s personal name? To hear Wei Wuxian use Lan Wangji’s personal name?

“Wei Ying,” he tries out, just to see how the name tastes on his tongue.

He can feel Wei Wuxian beaming, even though he cannot see it. “Just like that! Perfect. You can never call me anything else, okay?”

“Okay,” Lan Wangji agrees, making Wei Wuxian laugh while he removes the tie that had served as a makeshift blindfold. Lan Wangji blinks against the sudden burst of light, and when he can see again, it’s to find Wei Wuxian already watching him. Lan Wangji looks at him questioningly and Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just – you’re really good, you know that? You’re the best, Lan Zhan. The best across all realms.”

Lan Zhan. If this is what Wei Wuxian had felt when Lan Wangji called him Wei Ying, then he thinks he understands why he’s been asked to never use another name. Lan Wangji could live just on that for the rest of his life – Wei Wuxian touching him, and Wei Wuxian saying his name.

***

True to his word, Wei Wuxian has dressed in his best clothes for this. Well, he had to buy them first, but he did take a cute selfie in the dressing room that he titled with #GettingReadyToMeetTheParents and that not only got a lot of likes but also thousands of people asking him if he’s in a relationship now. Wei Wuxian hasn’t replied, because he’s not sure what constitutes a relationship among humans. There are all these weird rules that are hard to compare to how these things work in Hell, where casual hook-ups are common and beloved by everyone but once you swap your poison you’re basically engaged. Lan Zhan doesn’t even have any poison he could swap! He just has really straight and non-pointed teeth, and a great bone structure, and sometimes he looks at Wei Wuxian with that really fond look in his eyes and calls him Wei Ying and makes him pancakes. Is this boyfriend behaviour? Is it Lan Zhan’s equivalent of curling his tail around Wei Wuxian and growing his third eye?

Because there is no one Wei Wuxian can ask about these things without being mocked, he has taken to watching human porn for research. Not human porn, obviously, because those videos are not only weird and unsettling but also produced by Nie Huaisang, but like, porn about humans, made and acted by demons. It’s been eye-opening. Third eye-opening even. Everyone knows that humans are fragile, but who knew that there’s still lots of fun things you can do? A popular scenario includes a human that summons a demon for protection, and then they make love right there on the pentagram while they drink each other’s blood, and then in some of the movies the human then also turns into a demon (not actually possible in real life, but saving on production costs) and they can have some more sex. Another common storyline is one wherein a human gets possessed by their demon partner mid-coitus; this is usually referred to as double penetration. Very intriguing!           

And yet, in spite of all this noble effort Wei Wuxian has made in order to better understand the nature of the bond he is forming with Lan Zhan right now, he has to admit defeat eventually. Porn, it turns out, generally assumes a mutual attraction and sometimes relationship already present. Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know if he’s attracted to Lan Zhan! Being attracted to a human is just weird. So, he doesn’t know if he wants to have sex with Lan Zhan, he just knows that he wants them to stay together forever, and do Lan Zhan’s makeup every single day, and meet Lan Zhan’s family, and, yes, suck Lan Zhan’s dick and then hold his hand afterwards.

But he’s a very curious person! Of course he wants to suck Lan Zhan’s dick! It’s only natural, as the next stage of his research. That doesn’t mean he wants to like, soul-bond with Lan Zhan in front of a Priest of the Damned while standing on a field of corpses of mutual enemies. It’s not the same!

His research, did, however, have one notable side-effect: he is now really, really awkward around Lan Zhan. Every time Lan Zhan speaks, or moves, or blinks, Wei Wuxian immediately imagines them doing stuff together. Sometimes really kinky stuff, like slaying a demon together and then having Lan Zhan hold on to Wei Wuxian’s horns during sex right on the battlefield, but sometimes it’s just the thought of them going on dates. They’re basically going on date-like events already, but it doesn’t count if Lan Zhan doesn’t know it’s a date.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, pulling Wei Wuxian out of his thoughts but at the same time making him  want to take his hand. “You are quiet. If you wish, I will tell Uncle that-“

“No, no, no. No way. I want to meet him! Your uncle and your brother both.” Lan Zhan looks sceptical, so Wei Wuxian adds, “I swear! I’ve just been thinking about a lot of stuff today. So, do you think your uncle will like me?”

“You are a very likeable person,” Lan Zhan says, which isn’t an answer. Before Wei Wuxian can call him out on it, they arrive at the restaurant, where they’re told that the rest of the family is already here and waiting in one of the private rooms. In Wei Wuxian’s experience, booking a private room is suspicious and usually means that you don’t want your family to argue in public. The Jiangs, naturally, book private rooms every single time they eat at a restaurant.

Just before they go inside the room, Lan Zhan stops and turns to face Wei Wuxian. “My family can be – difficult. You are under no obligation to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Wei Wuxian assures him, and then, because Lan Zhan still hasn’t opened the door, he darts out and kisses Lan Zhan’s cheek. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lan Zhan agrees dazedly.

Still feeling lightheaded from the brief non-kiss, Wei Wuxian thinks that there is no way that whatever follows could possibly be better than what just happened.

He's right.

When they go in, three realisations hit Wei Wuxian in rapid succession. The first is that Lan Zhan’s brother is really handsome as well, which means the Lans have great genes. The second is that obviously they didn’t inherited their looks from Lan Zhan’s uncle, whom somebody should really tell that moustaches are out of fashion.

The third is that clearly, Wei Wuxian is not the only one who has been keeping secrets recently – because right there at the table, next to the man who has just introduced himself as Lan Xichen, is Meng Yao.

Wei Wuxian’s initial, crazy thought is that Meng Yao has come to spy on him and/or demote him back to Hell. But then again, what kind of spy is dedicated enough to go as far as wearing matching outfits with his boyfriend? So this must mean that Meng Yao is not here for business reasons. He’s here for -

“-my pleasure,” Lan Xichen says with a smile. “I am really glad you could join us today. Take a seat!”

There are only two seats left, and they’re not next to each other. Wei Wuxian sits down to the left of Lan Qiren, who takes one look at him, says “Hrmph,” and turns back to sipping his tea; meanwhile, Lan Wangji takes the remaining seat next to Meng Yao, which puts Meng Yao and Wei Wuxian directly facing each other over the table. Wei Wuxian cannot stop staring at him, and Meng Yao stares right back, his eyes wide, for once not seeming like he has the situation under control.

“This is A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says fondly and adds, “He’s a bit shy”, which is not an attribute Wei Wuxian associates with the head of DILF.

“Hrmph,” Lan Qiren says again.

Lan Zhan (who’s a bit shy) has not spoken a single word since they entered. Remembering how nervous he’d been earlier, Wei Wuxian tries to locate Lan Zhan’s foot under the table, hoping to lightly tap it as a silent reassurance that it’s fine, this is all going really great so far. He ends up accidentally kicking it, and judging by the way Meng Yao flinches, the foot had not belonged to Lan Zhan.

A waiter shows up to take their orders, which serves as a good distraction but which also means that once he leaves, everyone falls into this really weird silence that consists of the Lans drinking their tea and Meng Yao and Wei Wuxian staring. Wei Wuxian, who has never been good with silence, only lasts approximately twenty seconds before he turns to Lan Qiren and says, “I just want to tell you that your nephew is really great! You must be so proud of him.”

“We’re both very proud,” Lan Xichen says, making Wei Wuxian like him immediately. “Wangji’s success in the model business is impressive.”

“Er-ge is impressive too,” Meng Yao says, exchanging a fond smile with Lan Xichen. “Your new perfume making class has brought great results so far.”

“You make perfumes? That’s awesome.” Wei Wuxian frowns at Lan Zhan, who has just made a weird motion that Wei Wuxian has trouble interpreting. Maybe Lan Zhan wants to tell him what a great job he’s doing, bonding with his family like this.

“If you like, I have a sample with me.” Lan Xichen hands over a small vial that Wei Wuxian intends to just lightly dap on his wrist and that he accidentally spills all over the table. It’s not a lot of liquid, but there’s still a horrifying stench filling the room almost immediately.

“Smells great,” Wei Wuxian lies, trying not to gag. “Really, so great. Wow. Well done!”

Meng Yao puts his hand over Lan Xichen’s and says, smiling winningly at Lan Qiren, “It seems both your nephews are talented. Doubtless a result of your excellent parenting.”

“Hrmph.”

His smile faltering, Meng Yao evidently decides to switch tactics, turning to Lan Zhan instead. “I saw your latest spread in V. If you’re interested, I know someone who would love to have you as their face for their new youth line.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says.

“It’s so kind of you to offer,” Wei Wuxian translates, “but Lan Zhan has a tight schedule!”

For the first time tonight, Meng Yao decides to openly acknowledge his presence. His eyes sharpen, and just like that, he’s no longer A-Yao, the shy guy whose pastel jumper matches Lan Xichen’s and who’s trying to get his boyfriend’s family to like him, but Meng Yao, the guy who once told Wei Wuxian that if this Instagram thing didn’t work out for him, being unemployed would be the least of his worries. “Is that so? And what’s your role in his life?” he asks.

“Oh, I do his makeup,” Wei Wuxian replies blithely. “For shoots and stuff. Sometimes I post about it on Instagram.”

Also for the first time tonight, Lan Zhan speaks up. “Wei Ying does much more than that.” He does not elaborate, but somehow, it’s enough to make Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren share a look.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Xichen echoes slowly.

“Hm,” Lan Qiren says, in a somewhat disapproving manner.

“Anyway,” Wei Wuxian says loudly, clapping his hands with enough fervour that all the Lans flinch, “who’s hungry? I’m ready for some meat.”

***

Interlude: Keeping up with Meng Yao

“Well, well, well,” Meng Yao says pleasantly to a very nervous-looking Wei Wuxian, “why don’t you explain to me what’s going on? In detail. Leave nothing out. I genuinely want to know.”

They are in Meng Yao’s office. He likes his office. He filled it with expensive furniture that belonged to some people who won’t need it anymore, he keeps a coffee machine in here that belonged to a coffee chain that has gone out of business, and on his desk there is an empty picture frame which he sometimes looks at and imagines that he is looking at a photograph of Xichen instead, if having a photo of your boyfriend out in the open like that wasn’t so dangerous.

Wei Wuxian, who has been posting photos of his boyfriend all over Instagram for over two weeks now, seems not to have thought of this.

“Listen-“

“It occurs to me,” Meng Yao interrupts, still smiling, “that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you recently. Please accept my full apologies. You must be feeling so neglected.”

“I-“

“I take full responsibility, of course. It is entirely my fault that an employee of mine, whom I put my trust in, has decided to strike up an off-the-record deal without notifying me, or anyone else.”

“It’s-“

“Except,” he continues, talking right over Wei Wuxian’s objections, “while you did not deem it necessary to go through the proper channels for this, you clearly didn’t extend the same courtesy to all areas of your life. I’m talking, naturally, about this.” He unlocks his smartphone and holds it up for Wei Wuxian to see. What is visible on his screen right now is nothing less than Wei Wuxian’s Instagram account and his last dozen or so uploads – almost all of which show Lan Wangji. “You posted about it on Instagram.”

“Most of these are just photos of Lan Zhan in between shootings! Some selfies with him! I didn’t post about how I want to eat him,” Wei Wuxian protests.

Wordlessly, Meng Yao scrolls down and clicks on one of the posts. It’s a picture of Lan Wangji petting a stray cat, and it’s captioned with So cute I just want to devour him whole!!!.

“That was-“

“If you’re about to tell me that you were talking about the cat, you might want to think again.”

“It was an expression,” Wei Wuxian says desperately. “And anyway, don’t you think you’re being a little unfair here? I’m not allowed to have a human friend? What about your human friend? You seemed pretty cosy yesterday.”

“Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao says with dignity, “is so much more than a friend, someone like you couldn’t possibly understand. I have spent years working on this. I’ve devoted my life to becoming a man Lan Xichen deserves. A relationship like this doesn’t just spring up naturally. It requires planning, and dedication, and it’s not going to be ruined just because somebody ate Lan Xichen’s little brother. I won’t allow it to happen.”

Wei Wuxian has listened to this outburst with increasing disbelief on his face. Now, he bursts out laughing. He just laughs. Meng Yao has poured out his heart, and Wei Wuxian is laughing at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says once he has somewhat recovered, “it’s just that I think you’re maybe taking this a little too seriously. You should watch more porn! There’s this really great one I saw the other day, it’s this genre called double pene-“

“Please,” Meng Yao says, very slowly, enunciating each syllable clearly, “stop talking.” He massages his sleeves to fend off his headache; it’s not working. Instead, he decides to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Just tell me this: do you, or do you not plan to eat Lan Wangji’s body, soul, or both?”

Wei Wuxian frowns, like he had not expected this question. Which only increases Meng Yao’s headache, because why was Wei Wuxian not expecting it? What meeting did he think this was going to be? Has Meng Yao employed an idiot?

“It’s complicated,” Wei Wuxian says at last, just when Meng Yao had begun to think that he was not going to get an answer. His face lights up with excitement, something that does not bode well. “Hey! You know about this stuff, right? Maybe you can help me out. What do you call it when you really like someone, and at first you think it’s because their heart will taste good, but then they call you by your personal name and let you blindfold them sometimes and also they look really cute with lipstick and sometimes cook dinner for you, and sometimes you look at them and your third eye opens and it’s really embarrassing but it also means that you’re compatible, like, sexually, and you’re thinking about a good way to bring this up but then he smiles at you and you forget and then it’s too late? What do you call that?”

“I think,” Meng Yao says after a small pause, “that if you continue talking, it will called Being Fired.”

“Got it,” Wei Wuxian says, salutes him, and flies out his window as a raven. Meng Yao stays behind. He stares at the empty picture frame on his desk. Then he calls Lan Xichen and asks him to dinner. He needs time to recover from the conversation he just had.

***

The day after the dinner, Lan Wangji receives three text messages. One is from his uncle, expressing his full support but adding that if Lan Wangji wants to get into dating, the Lans know a lot of respectable families who have single sons and daughters of Lan Wangji’s age. One is from his brother, expressing his full support and adding that Meng Yao really liked Lan Wangji and that they should all go on a double date soon. And one is from his agent, who is sending him the time and location of his next shoot, which is tomorrow.

He does not get a text from Wei Wuxian. This worries Lan Wangji, but not for long: before he can truly begin to panic that yesterday’s disastrous dinner was enough to scare Wei Wuxian away, his door opens and Wei Wuxian walks in, holding takeout bags in one hand and the key Lan Wangji has given him in the other. They have lunch together, and Wei Wuxian insists on taking several pictures of him “just for fun”, and by the time they have shifted towards the couch and some action movie is starting on the TV, something deep inside Lan Wangji settles. This, he thinks, must be what happiness feels like.

The photoshoot the next day is set up in what looks like a mirror cabinet. They’re going to photograph Lan Wangji in two different outfits, Alice both inside the looking-glass and looking in from the outside, except that Alice was clearly deemed not pretty enough, because Lan Wangji is doing the queens instead. The first outfit reimagines Lan Wangji as the Red Queen, and while he is in the wardrobe getting dressed, and an intern is fastening a crown to his head, Wei Wuxian is shouting at him through the door and undoubtedly disturbing everyone in earshot.

“Are you done yet? Can I see? I just googled it, did you know Alice in Wonderland was a book first?”

The intern throws Lan Wangji a strange look. Lan Wangji shrugs. Behind the door, Wei Wuxian yells, “I think they should have gone for a Mad Hatter thing instead, he looks way more fun!”

“We are actually doing the Mad Hatter, too,” the intern says conversationally. “Different model though. It’s a whole thing – you’re doing the Queens, we got the Mad Hatter coming tomorrow, and then the day after we have the Cheshire Cat and the White Rabbit. Those will mostly be lingerie, of course.”

Lan Wangji nods, while outside, Wei Wuxian shouts, “Lingerie?!”

“And this guy was doing your makeup?” the intern asks. She takes a step back, frowns, changes the angle of his crown, and finally declares him ready. Wei Wuxian barges in before she has finished speaking; since he did the makeup before Lan Wangji got changed, he is technically free to go get a coffee or just leave, but he usually insists on waiting and then accompanying Lan Wangji home afterwards. Today is no different: he has already announced that later, he’ll be taking Lan Wangji to the cinema. Lan Wangji has never been to the cinema, so he is looking forward to it.

Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops at the sight of Lan Wangji, just as it always does. He still shows the exact same reaction at every single photoshoot, but Lan Wangji cannot help being flattered regardless. Wei Wuxian makes no secret of the fact that he thinks Lan Wangji is handsome; nevertheless, it is strangely gratifying to see such visible confirmation of it.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, almost accusingly, even though he has seen Lan Wangji dressed up like this dozens of times by now. “Why are you so pretty? It doesn’t make sense. It’s weird!”

“I apologise if I have displeased you,” Lan Wangji says lightly, and tries not to shiver as Wei Wuxian’s bare shoulder (he’s wearing a tanktop that has Hell yeah printed on it in neon green letters) brushes against Lan Wangji’s.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, and knocks their shoulders together again with more purpose. This time, Lan Wangji really does shudder. Instantly, Wei Wuxian frowns. “I don’t have a hoodie with me today,” he says mournfully, like it’s his job to keep Lan Wangji warm. “But if you want – you have, like, another five minutes or so before the shoot starts, right?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says after a brief glance at his phone. Enough time to grab a cup of tea from catering, certainly.

Except it turns out Wei Wuxian is not intending to go to catering. He casts a look around the hallway, checking that no one is watching, and then drags Lan Wangji into a supply closet.

“Close your eyes,” he says, voice vibrating with excitement. Lan Wangji, by now familiar with this game, obediently does as he’s told – and feels the warmth of a flickering flame, very close to his face. No lighter or matchstick would be able to produce this kind of heat, so it must be something else.

“Is it helping? You’re not cold anymore, right?” Wei Wuxian asks after a minute.

“I am not,” Lan Wangji agrees. He reaches out to feel for the origin of the flame, only for Wei Wuxian to catch his wrist.

“Don’t! You’ll burn yourself.”

“Is it a lighter?” Lan Wangji asks, knowing that it isn’t but needing to ask.

“It’s a secret,” Wei Wuxian tells him. He has yet to release Lan Wangji’s wrist. His fingernails are digging into his skin, sharp enough to give Lan Wangji pause.

As quickly as it had sprung into life, the flame dies, though the warmth stays, having seeped deeply into Lan Wangji’s bones. “When you go out there,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, “think of me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Long after they’ve left the closet, during his outfit change for the role of the White Queen, Lan Wangji happens to look down at his wrists, and see five tiny red points from where Wei Wuxian grabbed him. Not bruises, but wounds, as though he has been poked by five needles.

“We can’t give you a band-aid,” says the intern, who has been watching him. “It’d ruin the photo. I don’t think it’s very visible, but do you want me to try and cover it with makeup?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says, still inspecting his wrist. “Thank you. I would like to keep it.”

“Suit yourself,” the intern says, and pulls up the zipper to the glittery robe he has been given to wear.

The injuries don’t heal for at least a week. Lan Wangji does not mind.

***

It happens on a Wednesday morning. Wei Wuxian is sprawled comfortably across Lan Zhan’s couch, his head in Lan Zhan’s lap as he mindlessly scrolls through Instagram. He has just finished cyberstalking Nie Huaisang, who is currently on an unspecified tropical island and already invited Wei Wuxian to a. join and b. bring his boytoy with him, and cancelled Jiang Cheng’s call for the seventeenth time in a row earlier, when suddenly, his tattoos start to glow.

Shit.

Wei Wuxian glances at Lan Zhan: reading peacefully, very occasionally stroking Wei Wuxian’s hair but otherwise paying no attention. Good. Wei Wuxian sits up and loudly announces that he’s going to the bathroom. His tattoos are no longer glowing, but burning. He hides his hands behind his back, but Lan Zhan’s eyes have already darted curiously to Wei Wuxian’s neck, where another tattoo is poking out of his shirt. Desperately, Wei Wuxian says, “Lan Zhan, close your ey-“ – he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he disappears.

A second later, he is torn back into existence inside a very familiar living room. Candles are flickering everywhere, he’s standing in the middle of a pentagram, and Jiang Cheng is chanting in Latin.

“-in saecula saeculorum- oh great, you’re here.“ Jiang Cheng closes the book he’s been citing from, and artlessly throws it in the vague direction of the bookshelf. “What are you wearing?”

Wei Wuxian looks down at himself. His shirt has the phrase Hell was full so I came back printed on it. “It’s a joke!”

“I don’t get it,” Jiang Cheng says with a frown. “How is it funny?”

“Nevermind! Jiang Cheng, you have to get me out of here.” Wei Wuxian had tried to leave the second he arrived, but that’s the thing about a conjuring. You’re only allowed to leave once the conjurer destroys the protection circle. So far, Jiang Cheng has shown zero indication of doing that.

Case in point: instead of brushing away the salt so that Wei Wuxian can leave this place, he crosses his arms and looks at Wei Wuxian with accusation in his eyes. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“That’s what this is about? You summoned be back to hell because of a phone call?”

“You also didn’t answer my mails,” Jiang Cheng continues. “And when I sent that gargoyle to spy on you, you paid it three ounces of blood to leave you alone.”

“Because it tried to follow me into the subway! People were filming it on their phones! Meng Yao almost fired me that day.” He would have, too, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t cleverly changed the subject by asking about Lan Xichen. Meng Yao, he has found out, likes talking about Lan Xichen. He especially likes talking about how they’re doomed lovers but he’s going to make it work through the power of true love and blackmail, or something. It’s really boring to listen to, but mostly it’s better than losing his job, so Wei Wuxian is bravely persevering.

“Seriously,” Wei Wuxian says desperately, “you have to let me go.” His mind is reeling over all the possibilities over what Lan Zhan is thinking right now. Is he angry? Does he think he’s having a mental breakdown? Did he call the police? Did he call his brother, who told Meng Yao, who is already ripping up Wei Wuxian’s employment contract? Whatever it is, time is running out. Wei Wuxian has to fix it now.

But Jiang Cheng only scowls at him. “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked. I’ve tried to reach you for weeks. You owe me this.”

Trying for damage control, Wei Wuxian says, “Fine! What do you want from me?”

Jiang Cheng, horrifyingly, magics a cushion into the room and sits down right outside the pentagram. He waves his hands, and a margarita appears in his hands. It looks, for all intents and purposes, like whatever he wants to talk about is going to take a while. Wei Wuxian is never getting out of here. Wei Wuxian is going to stay in this stupid pentagram in Jiang Cheng’s stupid living room in the stupid capital city of Hell until he dies.

“Now,” Jiang Cheng says. “I’ve met this girl.”

***

Lan Xichen has brought Meng Yao to lunch. He has not informed Lan Wangji of this prior to the meeting, presumably to not give Lan Wangji a reason to cancel. His plan has worked, but has also caused in Lan Wangji a feeling of deep betrayal.

The restaurant was chosen by Meng Yao. It is fully vegan, and is the new up-and-coming place to be in this town. It has furthermore received excellent reviews and goes above and beyond to please its guests. The chef is personally acquainted with Meng Yao and has assured him that today will be the best possible dining experience they could want. Meng Yao mentions all of this within the first two minutes of lunch, before a waiter has even asked for their drink orders. Lan Wangji lets him talk, thinking that as his boyfriend, it is Lan Xichen’s responsibility to muster up a reply to this. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is free to check his phone under the table.

Since he watched Wei Wuxian vanish into thin air mere hours ago, he has received precisely three texts, all sent within seconds of each other:

just went to the bathroom haha

quick trip to the grocery store, back soon

i love u xx

Even if the first two texts had not been blatantly false, the third text would have been enough to raise alarm bells. Wei Wuxian is a frequent and more adept texter than Lan Wangji, oftentimes sending him dozens of text messages just while waiting for him to be done with a shoot. He has never – he would not – there must be something wrong, here. Someone has gotten hold of his phone, perhaps.

“Is everything alright, Wangji?” Lan Xichen inquires politely. He is holding hands with Meng Yao right on the table, a public display of affection that is utterly unlike him. When Lan Wangji looks up, he finds both his brother and Meng Yao watching him.

“Everything is fine, Brother,” he replies, sliding his phone back into his pocket. There is no excuse for lying, but telling the truth would be even more unacceptable, surely. Besides, Wei Wuxian has not admitted his true nature even to Lan Wangji. It would be wrong of him to reveal it to others.

“I have great news,” Lan Xichen announces after their entrée has been served. “Well, I suppose we both do, don’t we, A-Yao?”

Meng Yao mirrors Lan Xichen’s smile. “Your brother is doing me the honour of moving in with me.”

“Congratulations,” Lan Wangji says stiffly. He is, truly, happy for his brother. But he would be happier if he could share his joy with Wei Wuxian, who may currently be trapped on a pentagram, or in a circle made of salt, or in the body of a corpse – the internet has been regrettably unclear on the details of summoning.  

“We are also,” Lan Xichen continues, seamlessly taking over from Meng Yao as though they have rehearsed this, “starting a cooking class together. We were hoping to tempt you and Wei Wuxian into joining.”

The last bit is surprising enough to startle Lan Wangji out of his jumbled thoughts. He eats a spoonful of soup, takes a sip of sparkling water, daps his mouth with a napkin and finally, when there is no other way to avoid the question, asks, “Cooking class?”

“We are particularly excited about learning the art of soufflé-making.”

“Well said,” Meng Yao agrees, and they smile at each other again. Lan Wangji is instantly overcome by a wave of deep embarrassment for his brother, his brother’s relationship, and his brother’s evident desire to get Lan Wangji more involved than he needs to be.

In order to both escape this conversation, and get a hold of Wei Wuxian, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Instead of going into one of the stalls, he stays in front of the sink and calls Wei Wuxian. No one answers. He tries again – nothing. The third time is equally unsuccessful. And then, just as Lan Wangji has given up, the lights in the bathroom begin to flicker. A second later, a face appears in the mirror. It is not Lan Wangji’s face.

“Lan Wangji?” the man in the mirror asks. Thunder seeps into his voice as he speaks.

Lan Wangji nods.

“Stop calling. He has his ringtone set to Toxic, it’s super annoying, but I can’t figure out how to turn off the stupid phone, and I swear to the forces down below, if I have to listen to this one more time-“

“Are you,” Lan Wangji interrupts hesitatingly, “a friend of Wei Ying?”

The man stares at him. Even though his eyes are glowing red, he still looks judgemental rather than threatening. “Friend?”

This gives Lan Wangji pause, and also triggers a not entirely irrational burst of panic. “Boyfriend,” he  guesses, ignoring the way his heart flutters at the idea of Wei Wuxian having a partner.

The mirror cracks, accompanied by yet another roll of thunder. Then, just as quick as he had arrived, the man is gone, and Lan Wangji sees his own reflection once more, distorted in the broken glass.

His brother must be waiting for him to return. Still, Lan Wangji allows himself one moment to consider what has just happened.

Whether Wei Wuxian has a boyfriend or not is of no consequence, he decides. It won’t change anything between them. He only hopes that Wei Wuxian will return soon, especially now that the demon in the mirror has instructed him to cease his attempts of communication.

By the time he arrives back at the table, the waiter has already served the main course. Lan Xichen balances a piece of roasted pumpkin between his chopsticks, and then, to Lan Wangji’s unending horror, feeds it to Meng Yao, who appears to be blushing. Neither of them notice Lan Wangji’s return, which is the only justification for Lan Xichen leaning in to whisper something in Meng Yao’s ear. Meng Yao blushes harder.

Lan Wangji frowns. His brother and his brother’s boyfriend are displaying wanton behaviour the likes of which he has never seen before, but that is not what caught his attention.

The tips of Meng Yao’s reddening ears have gone from round to delicately pointed.

Lan Wangji carefully files this information away in his mind for later consideration. Then he eats his roasted pumpkin and refuses to make eye contact with either Lan Xichen or Meng Yao for the remainder of the meal.

***

Porn didn’t cover this. After Jiang Cheng dragged his foot over the line of salt, freeing Wei Wuxian from both his physical prison and the prison that is Listening to Jiang Cheng Talk About His Feelings, and after Wei Wuxian rushed out to punch Jiang Cheng in the mouth and steal his phone back, and after Jiang Cheng retaliated and they kind of destroyed Jiang Cheng’s apartment and also large part of the city district in their brotherly argument, after all of this, Wei Wuxian takes a portal back to earth. He emerges from the cramped McDonalds supply closet, ignores the looks he’s getting, and during the entire metro ride to Lan Zhan’s place, he keeps reviewing porn storylines in his head, only to come up with nothing.

Not a single porn he’s seen has covered the probably very common situation of the demon disappearing in front of his human boyfriend, spending 12 hours trapped in a pentagram by his stupid brother, and also feeling really guilty because he was summoned before he could do his daily routine of braiding his human boyfriend’s hair. This is clearly an as-of-yet unfulfilled market niche. Nie Huaisang should totally get in on this. But for now, how is Wei Wuxian supposed to apologise to Lan Zhan if he doesn’t know what to expect?

Flowers, he thinks to himself. Humans like flowers! But he’ll have to make sure that Lan Zhan knows these are just because Wei Wuxian likes him so much, and not because Wei Wuxian is feeling guilty for being a demon and not telling him, since maybe he can still turn this around. While he buys a gigantic bouquet of, like, lots of white and yellow flowers that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know the name of but that he snaps a picture of for his followers anyway, he tries to come up with a good excuse. He did try to reassure Lan Zhan via text earlier, but then Jiang Cheng refused to let him have his phone and insisted on being the one to send the texts instead, and then after dozens of incoming calls his phone finally ran out of battery, so now Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know what Jiang Cheng has written. This is stressful. This is the most stressful thing that has happened to Wei Wuxian in his entire life.

Eventually, there is no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. Wei Wuxian clutches the flower bouquet tight to his chest, and lets himself into Lan Zhan’s apartment. “Lan Zhan,” he calls out, “I’m back from my quick trip to the grocery store that took all day because the line was really long, and I brought you fl- oh.” Lan Zhan, he realises, has fallen asleep on the couch. Of course he has; it’s way past his bedtime, something that Wei Wuxian tried to explain to Jiang Cheng and that he got unfairly mocked for, and really, Wei Wuxian should have seen this coming. He puts down the flowers and sinks to his knees beside the couch, spending a minute or so just looking at Lan Zhan’s sleeping face. He looks so peaceful in his sleep, so cute, that Wei Wuxian just has to gently touch his cheek a little. He is as careful as possible, but the touch still wakes Lan Zhan up. Blinking drowsily at him, Lan Zhan glances from Wei Wuxian’s outstretched hand to his face, looking adorably confused.

“Wei Ying. You’re back.”

“I brought you flowers,” Wei Wuxian says, waving his hand vaguely at where he left the flowers on the floor. “Do you like them? I’ll get you other ones if you don’t.”

“They should be in water.”

“They are, see?” Wei Wuxian says after he has snapped his fingers to make it so. The flowers are now in a beautiful glass vase on Lan Zhan’s couch table. Then, once he realised what he’s just done, he laughs awkwardly. “You’re still asleep! Dreaming. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I am not tired,” Lan Zhan insists, despite all evidence to the contrary. He sits up, but when Wei Wuxian’s hand falls away, he grabs it and holds it back against his cheek.

“Lan Zhan-“ Wei Wuxian abruptly cuts off, because just now, Lan Zhan turned his head and pressed a feathery kiss to Wei Wuxian’s palm.

“You’re back,” Lan Zhan repeats quietly. “I am glad.”

And that’s- Lan Zhan is so- porn really didn’t cover this! No one ever told Wei Wuxian how he should act when he was so overcome with all this feeling, and it’s all so messy, and he doesn’t even want to eat Lan Zhan anymore.

And then Lan Zhan, who is still clearly sleepy but looking more awake with every passing second, leans down, and kisses him. It’s soft and sweet, until Wei Wuxian opens his mouth and pulls Lan Zhan in closer at the same time. He wants to touch Lan Zhan everywhere. He wants to keep kissing Lan Zhan, but he also wants to suck a bruise into his neck and also reach into Lan Zhan’s chest and feel his beating heart. For now, though, it’s enough to stay like this, Wei Wuxian on his knees in front of Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan leaning down, a demon worshipper to his human god.

It’s only when Lan Zhan’s hands wander from Wei Wuxian’s cheeks to his hair that they both notice it. At some point in the last few minutes, Wei Wuxian’s horns have popped out without him realising, and it’s those horns that Lan Zhan has just touched. Wei Wuxian doesn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes must be glowing as much as his tattoos right now. “Lan Zhan,” he whispers urgently, “I can explain- it’s a costume- it’s for Halloween-“

Lan Zhan silences him with a kiss. And, just as Wei Wuxian had started to believe that maybe Lan Zhan didn’t really see anything after all, Lan Zhan pulls back and wraps a hand around one of Wei Wuxian’s horns. “Can you feel that?” he asks.

Wei Wuxian can definitely feel that. “Kind of,” he lies, unable to suppress a shiver when Lan Zhan starts stroking it in slow, circling movements. “Okay, yes, I feel it, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, stop-“

Lan Zhan stops. “Your glamour has dropped. Your skin-“

“You knew?” Wei Wuxian interrupts. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you say anything? Are you- oh, okay, no, you’re right, we can totally postpone this discussion,” he babbles, because Lan Zhan has just started running a hand over the tiny spikes on his spine.

“Wait,” he asks a few minutes later, because he’s an idiot, and Lan Zhan dutifully pulls away again, because he probably cares about Wei Wuxian’s virtue or something. “Lan Zhan?”

“Yes.”

Wei Wuxian peers into his eyes, dark and beautiful, and he just has to ask. “You’re not a siren, are you? Because I’m not saying I wouldn’t be into that, but I just want to get all the cards on the table now, and-“

“I’m not a siren.” Lan Zhan hesitates, prompting Wei Wuxian to go into a brief 2 seconds panic spiral of what other supernatural being Lan Zhan could possibly confess to being right now. “Who was the man in the mirror?”

Wei Wuxian frowns. “Who? Oh, probably Jiang Cheng. He likes to do the creepy mirror thing, he’s such a drama queen. Wait, did he talk to you? Why were you talking to my brother?”

An expression of relief flashes across Lan Zhan’s face. “I will tell you later,” he promises. Wei Wuxian is about to demand that no, tell him now, except then Lan Zhan kisses the tip of his pointed ear, which is so cute and adorable that Wei Wuxian has no choice but to abandon all attempts at conversation altogether and transform the couch into a bed.

***

Much later, when they are spent and exhausted and lying in bed without doing much of anything, Lan Wangji idly traces the tattoo that covers Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. Into the silence of the night, he says, “I think I would like one, now.”

“One? One of what? A kiss?” Wei Wuxian kisses him, very briefly, on the mouth, and grins at him. “Or something else? Let me guess. Is it kinky?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says chidingly, even though surely, at this point, after everything they have done tonight, such minor vulgarities should not be enough to make him blush.

Wei Wuxian has turned himself mostly human again, but when he laughs, Lan Wangji can still see hints of a forked tongue. “Don’t be mad at me! It’s my job to fulfil people’s wishes, you know. That’s how deals work. I give someone their heart’s desire, and in turn, they give me their soul. What do you say? Should we make a deal, you and I?”

His tone is teasing, but once again, Lan Wangji finds himself unable to respond accordingly. He is only able to do this:

“We have already made a deal.”

“What! No, we haven’t.” Wei Wuxian sounds genuinely shocked. He turns to look at Lan Wangji in the darkness; of course, with his catlike eyes, he has an unfair advantage. “We haven’t!”

“We have,” Lan Wangji objects. He takes Wei Wuxian’s hand, because it’s there, because he can. “You are my heart’s desire, and I got it. In turn, you received my heart.”

“Lan Zhan! That’s not-“

“It is,” Lan Wangji says firmly, “a deal for all eternity.”

Wei Wuxian groans and has to hide his face in Lan Wangji’s neck for a while, accusing him of being the worst best boyfriend ever, and is he intending to make Wei Wuxian spontaneously combust? Is that what he wants?

It is not what Lan Wangji wants, but he is content to let Wei Wuxian talk for some time longer, if it means that they stay exactly like this. He would let Wei Wuxian lean on him forever.

At last, Wei Wuxian rises, throws Lan Wangji a suspicious look, and demands, “Was that what you were talking about earlier? You would like one deceased boyfriend; cause of death: too much affection?”

“I would like a boyfriend,” Lan Wangji gently corrects, although boyfriend does not seem enough to fully express just what exactly he would like Wei Wuxian to be. He adds, “But that is not what I meant. I would also like a tattoo.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him, open-mouthed and clearly taken aback. It doesn’t take long until he recovers, though, his expression smoothing out as he processes the information. He does not question Lan Wangji’s motives; he merely says, “Any idea what kind?”

“Surprise me.”

“I will,” Wei Wuxian says, smirking as he adds, “It’s a deal. I’ll think of something, and we can do it whenever you want. Next week, next month, next year.”

“As soon as possible,” Lan Wangji decides. “Tomorrow.”

“Lan Zhan! That’s a lot of pressure you’re putting on me. Alright, tomorrow then.”

The next day, just as the needle is about to penetrate skin and Lan Wangji has closed his eyes in preparation, Wei Wuxian pokes his cheek. “Hey,” he says. “Don’t be nervous, okay? Didn’t I promise you it wouldn’t hurt?”

Lan Wangji almost smiles. He says, “I want it to.”

“You-“

“Pain,” he says evenly, “is an adequate price for something that lasts forever.”

Silence stretches between them. Wei Wuxian is not moving, seems to be glued to where he’s standing. He is not smiling, his face entirely serious for once. But Lan Wangji will not back down on this, even if it displeases Wei Wuxian.

“In this,” Wei Wuxian says eventually. “Pain in this and nowhere else.” He does not give Lan Wangji the chance to reply. Lan Wangji, through the haze of pain and bliss, finds that he is alright with having this conversation postponed.

***

Keeping up with Meng Yao, Part 2

Meng Yao has it all planned out. He’s had it planned out for half a decade now, ever since he first laid eyes on the most beautiful man in the world. Today is where it all comes together, the great culmination of his plan, his life’s success.

Today, he is taking Lan Xichen to Hell with him.

“Are you sure I’m dressed correctly?” Lan Xichen asks worriedly, glancing down at his suit.

Meng Yao, too, is wearing a suit, but only to put Xichen at ease. The truth is that probably they’ll draw some strange looks. Luckily, Meng Yao is fully prepared to have everyone who looks at them the wrong way be dealt with swiftly, efficiently, and permanently. “Xichen-ge looks always great,” he reassures his boyfriend as they step into the train.

It’s close to the annual feast of slaughtering, so more demons than usual are returning home, but it’s still no trouble finding an empty compartment. Meng Yao stores away their luggage while Lan Xichen gets out the ink and brush necessary to practice for his new calligraphy class. It is all exactly as domestic and altogether human as Meng Yao wants them to be forever.

“You know,” Lan Xichen says mildly once they are settled in, “I never would have expected Hell to be this easily accessible.”

It’s even more accessible than Lan Xichen thinks, but no one likes going into a McDonalds or an Apple store. Those are for the likes of Wei Wuxian, who like to live fast. Meng Yao prefers the slow, old-fashioned train. Mostly, what he prefers about is that he knew Xichen would like it.

“We are very fortunate,” he tells Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen smiles at him, so openly and kindly that Meng Yao instinctively feels for the ring in his pocket. Soon, he promises himself.

The train comes to a halt; Lan Xichen looks at him questioningly, but Meng Yao only shakes his head. They won’t arrive at their destination for at least one more hour. This is merely the last stop in the mortal realm.

Suddenly, there is a commotion out in the corridor. Someone appears to be doing their best to enter the train as loudly as possible, banging their suitcase against walls and doors and dropping it at least three times.

“Should we help them?” asks Lan Xichen, who is the kindest man on the planet.

“They’re fine,” says Meng Yao, who is neither kind nor, strictly speaking, a man.

Then, a voice joins the noise. Meng Yao recognises this voice.

“A little help, Lan Zhan! Look at how I’m struggling – ah, no, don’t actually help me, I’m way stronger than you! You’re gonna break an arm, and you need all your arms! Do you want more arms? I could probably make you another arm.”

Meng Yao sits up straighter. Even if he was able to pray, it would do no good, because soon enough, the door to their compartment opens, and in come Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

“Look, Lan Zhan, we can just join these- oh.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen says, looking just as surprised as Wei Wuxian. “You are travelling, too?”

“Just going home over the holidays,” Wei Wuxian replies cheerfully. He has already recovered from his surprise, and is currently trying to shove his suitcase onto the overhead luggage rack, with little success. It nearly falls on Meng Yao no less than three times, until Lan Wangji sighs and moves to help him.

“This is such a lovely coincidence,” Lan Xichen says when they are all seated. “A-Yao and I could not be more pleased.”

Meng Yao can think of any number of things that would please him more, not least of all Not Spending an Entire Train Ride with Wei Wuxian. It seems that he is alone in that sentiment, though. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji have already launched into a quiet, formal conversation about Lan Wangji’s work and Lan Xichen’s self-help book, which leaves Wei Wuxian free to grin at him and offer him a snack. “Gummy worms,” he helpfully explains. “They’re really sour and sometimes they make my tongue bleed, it’s awesome.” Wei Wuxian throws a not very subtle glance at the Lan brothers before leaning in, way closer than Meng Yao wants him to be, and whispers, “When that happens, Lan Zhan likes to lick up the blood. He’s like a vampire, it’s so cute.”

“Vampires don’t exist,” Meng Yao feels obligated to point out.

“He’s the best,” Wei Wuxian says fondly, not listening. As though he overheard, although he cannot possibly have, Lan Wangji looks over suddenly, finds Wei Wuxian’s gaze, and smiles. Wei Wuxian smiles back, Meng Yao forgotten. Then, as soon as Lan Wangji has turned back to Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian whispers in Meng Yao’s ear that Lan Wangji’s favourite thing about him is his forked tongue.

Meng Yao does not know how to deal with this. He hasn’t planned for this. In absolutely no part of his 57-steps long plan to Win Xichen’s Heart did he account for his most annoying employee, not just dating Lan Xichen’s little brother, but also hijacking their date like this. It’s bad enough that Lan Xichen makes them frequently attend double dates together. It’s bad enough that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji sent them a Christmas card a few months ago. It’s bad enough that Meng Yao was recently tagged in one of Wei Wuxian’s Instagram posts, which instantly gained him way more followers than anyone would need or want. The only reason he got Instagram in the first place was to like Xichen’s selfies; why is he being punished like this?
But this. This surpasses it all. Because, just now, when Wei Wuxian leaned over the narrow table to pet Lan Wangji’s face (horrifying), there was the unmistakable glint of a ring on his finger. And when Lan Wangji turns his head to smile at Wei Wuxian again (also horrifying), his shirt collar shifts a little, and what looks suspiciously like a rune peaks out.

“Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao bites out between gritted teeth, “can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

Either Wei Wuxian has guessed what Meng Yao is thinking, or he was already expecting it, because instead of getting up, following Meng Yao outside and then allowing himself to get fired, Wei Wuxian waves the hand with the ring around obnoxiously and asks, “Is it about this? Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, slow and dazed, “you’re-“

“We’re engaged,” Wei Wuxian says happily. He puts his hand on the table; immediately, Lan Wangji takes it. A second later, Wei Wuxian has pulled himself free in order to perform a clumsy bow to Lan Xichen. “This one is very sorry for not asking for your blessing! It was all very spontaneous.”

“Very spontaneous,” Lan Wangji agrees.

To Meng Yao, spontaneity is a foreign concept. He can’t tear his eyes away from the ring, until he remembers the rune, and then he can’t tear his eyes away from the edges of that, either. Catching his gaze, Wei Wuxian laughs, takes Lan Wangji’s hand again, and says, “I said that I liked the earth custom of rings so he said, I’ll buy you one right now, which one do you want, and so we got engaged! But then when I tried to give him a ring too, we realised that I never figured out how credit cards work, so Lan Zhan asked how we do it in Hell. So I got a branding iron and we burned a wedding rune into his skin, except that I lost my nerve so he had to do it himself. But look how well it turned out! Lan Zhan is so talented.” Wei Wuxian tells all of this in the proud voice of a mother whose child has gotten a C- on an uninspired piece of artwork.

When he looks over at Lan Xichen, he finds his boyfriend frozen to the spot. It’s an understandable sentiment, he thinks. Once again, he checks that the ring in his pocket is still there. Five years, it took. Five years of lots of careful scheming in between lots of genuine love. Five years, and Lan Xichen has yet to say yes, because Meng Yao has yet to ask.

“It’s funny,” Wei Wuxian is currently saying, smiling fondly while one hand rubs unconsciously over the band on his finger. “As soon as we were engaged, we thought, why wait? Why not get married right now?”

“More efficient,” Lan Wangji supplies, and then adds in a softer voice, “More romantic.”

“Exactly! So, you know. That’s why we’re here.”

“What,” Meng Yao says flatly.

“What,” Lan Xichen says, equally as flat and evidently robbed off any diplomatic ability.

Wei Wuxian says, in a tone that indicates that this ought to have been obvious, “We’re on our way to the Priests! That’s why it’s such a lucky coincidence that you guys are here. Are you eloping, too?”

“No,” Meng Yao says, quickly, guiltily. The ring he bought feels like an unbearable weight suddenly. Of course Wei Wuxian is eloping, he thinks. Of course.

Lan Xichen clears his throat. “Forgive me,” he says, “but have you not been dating for – what was it, five months?”

“Four,” Wei Wuxian says triumphantly. What he is triumphing over, Meng Yao dares not guess.

Five years, he thinks. It’s been five years.

And then, like he can read his thoughts, Wei Wuxian stops ghosting soft kisses over Lan Wangji’s upturned palm for long enough to look at Meng Yao and says, “Don’t let us make you feel bad! I guess true love just moves a little faster. Right, Lan Zhan?”

Meng Yao does not stay to wait for Lan Wangji’s answer. He leaves the compartment like he’s compelled by an invisible force. Right outside, he runs into the ticket conductor. He knows what he has to do.

“I’m very sorry,” he tells the startled man, “but there is a man in there who will certainly have forgotten to buy a ticket. You may wish to investigate this.” Then, he texts Lan Xichen to come meet him in the dining car for some peace and quiet. They have much to discuss.

Chapter Text

Look, there’s a reason Jiang Cheng doesn’t like coming to Earth. It’s just so dirty, and there are too many humans, and some of them do things like smile at him or ask him for his number, and it’s all so horrifying that he can never bear being here for more than a few hours at a time. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t come here at all: he has a good, steady job at his family’s company, and he would never have to leave Hell at all if it weren’t for factors he has no control over. The factors are called Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian, and he really only likes one of them.

“Come in, come in, come in,” says the factor he doesn’t like, half-pulling, half-pushing him into his apartment. Well, not his apartment. His human boyfriend’s apartment. Wei Wuxian has recently moved in with his human, which Jiang Cheng only found out through Wen Qing, who heard it from Mianmian, who heard it from

Nie Huaisang, who apparently threw Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian a housewarming party that neither of them were invited to.

“Do you want tea? Blood? Booze? We have all three, although Lan Zhan doesn’t like it when I drink alcohol before it’s dark out.”

“I’ll take a coffee,” says Jiang Cheng, who doesn’t like humans in any shape of form, not even if it’s just their blood. He’s never eaten a soul in his life, and he’s proud of it.

They’ve arrived in the kitchen. The fridge is covered in various post-it notes, drawings, and a series of colourful alphabet-shaped magnets that spell out a crude joke. One of the drawings is just a penis. Another shows doodles of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji as – what, their rabbit personas? One of them has horns and a little devil’s tail and the other has hearts instead of eyes. Is this supposed to be cute?

Wei Wuxian rummages through the cupboards, making a great deal of noise, only to eventually turn back to Jiang Cheng, deflated. “I remembered we don’t have any coffee,” he admits. “Lan Zhan is allergic to caffeine.”

“Tea, then,” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Wuxian brightens and starts his cupboard-quest again. Jiang Cheng uses this time to look around the apartment some more. It’s very spacious. He’s heard from Jiang Yanli who heard it from her horrible husband who heard it from Nie Huaisang, that Lan Wangji is a model. That doesn’t sound like a real job to Jiang Cheng, but it seems to pay the bills well enough. That’s good. Wei Wuxian should have someone who can afford his flimsy lifestyle. Of course, being rich and handsome means that it makes no sense for Lan Wangji to settle for Wei Wuxian in the first place, and probably Wei Wuxian will return to Hell with his heart broken and his spirit crushed soon enough, but until then, at least he has someone who will buy him like, karaoke machines or whatever else he likes.

“We don’t have any tea,” Wei Wuxian says a few seconds later. “So, booze?”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “Booze,” he agrees.

A few hours later, they’ve moved from the couch to the floor. They have both dropped their glamour in their pleasant drunkenness, and are in the middle of a game that’s called Making Things Explode when the door opens.

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng slurs, “there’s a human in your apartment.”

Wei Wuxian perks up. “That’s Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan is here! Lan Zhan, look, it’s Jiang Cheng!”

“I am honoured,” Lan Wangji says to Jiang Cheng and adds, turning to Wei Wuxian, “I apologise for being late. But I am happy to see that you enjoyed yourself without me.”

“Oh, it was terrible. I didn’t enjoy myself at all! I’ve counted down every minute until your return.” Wei Wuxian waves his hands in Lan Wangji’s direction until Lan Wangji comes over and dutifully sits down first at the couch and then, when Wei Wuxian pouts, on the floor next to them. While no one is paying attention to him,

Jiang Cheng drinks some more. There is simply no other way he is going to get through this evening otherwise.

“For someone who didn’t enjoy himself, you sure drank a lot,” Jiang Cheng says a little sourly.

“That’s because I had to drink to forget your stupid face,” Wei Wuxian tells him blithely. “Lan Zhan, do you want me to get you some water? We’re out of tea.”

“We’re not out of tea. I bought some just yesterday.”

“Not out of tea! You lie. I searched everywhere.”

“Did you search the shelf next to the fridge?”

There’s a pause. “I’ll be right back,” Wei Wuxian says, pats both of them on the head, and leaves.

This leaves Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji in the uncomfortable position of having to talk to each other. Jiang Cheng has, of course, heard a lot about Wei Wuxian’s boyfriend. So many things. So many, many things. But he’s not actually met him since that one time he tried to intimidate him through mirror magic which, to be honest, is not a great starter to a good relationship between brothers-in-law. He knows this because his sister has stated it numerous times.

“So,” Jiang Cheng says after a very long, very awkward silence. “How’re things?”

Lan Wangji blinks. His face could be carved of marble with his stoic expression that never seems to change. It makes Jiang Cheng uncomfortable, is all. No one should look this blank.

“So,” Jiang Cheng tries again, “you’re really going for that model thing, huh?”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrow seems to twitch just a little before he’s back to his impression of a brick.

“So,” Jiang Cheng says desperately, “fashion, what does that entail, anyway? Like, dresses?”

And then! Something is happening! Something is happening with Lan Wangji’s face. Is he smiling? Is he smiling at Jiang Cheng?

“Sometimes,” Lan Wangji says, still doing that weird face thing.

“Cool,” Jiang Cheng manages to get out. “Cool, cool. You’re very pretty for a human,” he adds, a little accusingly.

“Thank you.”

“Good skin, too. I know stores that would pay so much gold for that kind of skin.”

“Mn.”

“Are you going to cheat on Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asks, fixating Lan Wangji with a drunkenly glare. Lan Wangji seems taken aback.

“No.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says, now taken aback a little himself. “Well, good. Good! You shouldn’t.”

“I will not.”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng repeats, tries to clap Lan Wangji on the shoulder in a brotherly manner, and passes out halfway through.

The next morning, he wakes up to a gigantic hangover that he can’t even magic away because they didn’t get drunk on human stuff, they got drunk on real alcohol. Jiang Cheng hasn’t had a headache like this since his sister’s wedding. Her wedding reception, to be more precise. They had all watched A-Li and her horrible groom get wedding runes in addition to their engagement runes, and then the Priest connected their souls and they had to drink each other’s blood as is tradition, and then afterwards, when all was said and done, Jiang Cheng’s mother leaned in to ask him and Wei Wuxian why they were still single. Clearly, this question had called for as much alcohol as possible.

His current hangover is enough to rival the one from that night. At least Wei Wuxian isn’t faring any better: when Jiang Cheng comes to and opens his eyes, they are both still on the floor, cuddling each other like they’re both still children who haven’t even grown into their horns yet. Groaning, Jiang Cheng extricates himself from his brother’s grip and gets up, fighting the waves of nausea. He staggers into the kitchen, hoping to find some water, and runs straight into Lan Wangji, who wordlessly holds out a glass of something green.

Jiang Cheng frowns at it with no small measure of suspicion. “What’s that?”

“Spinach juice. It boosts the immune system.”

“Demons don’t have immune systems,” Jiang Cheng tells Lan Wangji haughtily, “and if we did, it would be stronger than yours.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian calls out weakly from behind the couch, “drink the juice and then come here and kill me. End my misery.”

Lan Wangji keeps holding the glass until Jiang Cheng feels coerced into taking it; his hands now free, he walks over to Jiang Cheng’s brother and kisses his cheek. “No killing.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

“So cruel, Lan Zhan, that you won’t allow your Wei Ying to be done with his suffering. Jiang Cheng, are you listening to this? Do you hear how he mistreats me?”

Jiang Cheng cannot tell if his urge to puke comes from his brother or the juice that he has been bullied into drinking. Either way, he has no intentions of testing his luck. “I’m going,” he shouts, already on his way to the door. No one pays any mind to him. Feeling spiteful, Jiang Cheng steals Wei Wuxian’s backpack as he leaves. He can have it back when he’s ready to apologise for making Jiang Cheng get drunk.

***

Wen Qing got a migraine the first day she started working on Earth, and it hasn’t stopped calling her since. It calls with questions like, “Do you ever think about why we have forked tongues?” and “Is it bad if I swallowed a magnet?”. Recently, it has begun to call with questions about human conception. Wen Qing has come to dread the sound of her cell phone ringing. It’s her own fault, though. When she took this job, she insisted on someone coming down and sealing the entire building with protection and banishment runes. On the one hand, this means that not only are people like Wei Wuxian now forced to call her phone instead of just stepping through her mirror just as she’s in the bathroom, but she also got to meet Jiang Cheng, who was the one to instal all the runes. On the other hand, it does mean that if she puts her phone on silent for a few minutes, she risks a major crisis breaking out.

“I’m just saying,” Wei Wuxian eagerly shouts into her ear while she tries to eat lunch in peace, “there’ve been some conflicting reports on this. In some of the porn, the human and the demon do the whole hellhound baby thing like normal, but in others, there’s a stork? Which one is right? I tried asking Lan Zhan so he explained that the stork doesn’t exist and humans grow a kid with their body, but that doesn’t sound correct at all, so I told him that it’s fine and he’s already pretty and clever enough and I forgive him for not knowing about making babies, and then I called you. He’s actually still standing next to me – Lan Zhan, it’s Wen Qing! Do you want to say Hi?”

At the other end of the line, there is a brief murmur, followed by Wei Wuxian yelling, “He says he’s good! So, tell me everything.”

Wen Qing sighs. “About what? Human babies?”

“Demon-human hybrid babies,” Wei Wuxian corrects. “Lan Zhan mentioned this thing called birth control?”

“For humans. To stop them from getting pr- from growing kids with their bodies.”

“Oh, that’s for real?” Excited whispering on Wei Wuxian’s end, followed by the sounds of two people kissing, followed by Wei Wuxian asking Wen Qing, “So how does it work?”

Warily, Wen Qing starts to explain the idea of conception, only to realise that she’s lost Wei Wuxian’s interest within five seconds. Changing tactics, she says, “You don’t need to worry about birth control, anyway. Humans and demons aren’t compatible in this regard.”

“Not compatible! Lan Zhan, Wen Qing says that- oh, you heard. Not compatible! Lan Zhan and I are so compatible, you don’t even know how compatible we are.”

“Not compatible enough to make a baby,” Wen Qing says mercilessly. “If you want one, just go through the hellhounds like everyone else.”

“I hate the hellhounds,” Wei Wuxian says mournfully, presumably more to Lan Wangji than to her.

For the first time since the start of the phonecall, Lan Wangji speaks up, loudly enough that Wen Qing can hear it. “Wei Ying- you would want- you wish for a-“ 

“Bye,” Wei Wuxian shouts into the phone, and kisses Lan Wangji. Wen Qing knows this because despite bidding his goodbyes, Wei Wuxian has not actually hung up. This matter must be remedied immediately, and ideally before she hears any attempts of conception on Wei Wuxian’s part.

After ending the call, Wen Qing spares a mournful look for her half-eaten sandwich. Lunch hour is over, wasted entirely on Wei Wuxian’s antics. It’s just as well that Jiang Cheng invited her for dinner later.

***

When Wei Wuxian waltzes into his office and drops down on a chair, Meng Yao’s first instinct is to throw him out. But because this is his first instinct whenever Wei Wuxian is near, regardless of the situation, he doesn’t allow himself to succumb to the urge. Instead, he takes three calming breaths, during the course of which Wei Wuxian has touched every single item on his desk and broken one.

“What can I do for you?” Meng Yao says at last.

Wei Wuxian sheepishly gives up his attempts on fixing the lamp that had crashed to the floor seconds earlier. “I need your help,” he says.

Meng Yao closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, the lamp is on the floor again, shattered for good this time. “Is this about what Healer Wen told me yesterday?”

“What?”

“She talked to me about your recent conversation.”

“Our recent conversation? I haven’t talked to Wen Qing in like, months.”

“She said you talked to her two days ago,” Meng Yao says firmly.

Wei Wuxian continues to look confused, until his face suddenly clears up in what must be a rare resurgence of memory. “Ah! Yes, you’re right. We totally talked! Why, what did she tell you? Are you spying on me? Did you pay her to spy on me? Do Lan Zhan and I have to change our identities and leave the country?”

“No one is spying on you,” Meng Yao says, which isn’t strictly true. But Wen Qing is not on his payroll, and that is what counts. “She merely informed me that you may wish to take some leave soon. Father’s leave,” he says, when Wei Wuxian seems confused again.

Wei Wuxian had been busy picking up shards of glass from the ground, but his head shoots up now, his horns breaking through the glamour in his nervousness. “What!”

“The DILF division completely supports-“

“No, no. You’ve got it all wrong! Lan Zhan and I aren’t going to adopt. Not now, anyway. There’s plenty of time! Besides, we only got married like, two months ago. That’s way too soon.”

“Oh,” Meng Yao says, relieved despite himself. Ever since his conversation with Wen Qing, he had been harbouring nightmares of him and Xichen being forced to babysit. “Well, good. In that case-“

“It’s going to be at least another month before we seriously think about this,” Wei Wuxian continues happily, entirely ignorant to the fact that Meng Yao’s heart just stopped for a second. “But! For now, there’re way more important things to discuss.”

“There are?” Meng Yao asks wearily.

Wei Wuxian nods. He has succeeded in clearing the carpet of most of the glass. His hands are bleeding; he wipes them on the cushion of his chair. Meng Yao’s eye twitches. Wei Wuxian leans in and says, “It’s Lan Zhan’s birthday next week, and I just have no idea what to get him.”

***

Lan Xichen has been most excited to receive an invitation to a Surprise Birthday Party for Lan Zhan!!! :D. The invitation came via email, Instagram, and raven, and Lan Xichen responded to the first two and then gamely fed the raven a piece of bread from his bread-making class. Now the raven won’t leave, so he has had to buy a cage, bowls for water and food, and five books on birdcare. He named the raven Great Joy in Between Wistful Sorrow, which he thinks appropriately communicates all his feelings on the matter. Of course, when Uncle heard about it he told Lan Xichen that he shouldn’t have taken on a bird, but if he had to, there were more appropriate names for it, but Uncle has never had a pet and does not know much about these things.

The birthday party is tonight, whereas Lan Wangji’s birthday will be tomorrow. It seems that Wei Wuxian means to keep Lan Wangji awake at least until midnight, so as to celebrate the first minutes of his birthday with appropriate spectacle. Lan Xichen is only too happy to attend. He likes parties, he likes Wei Wuxian and, most importantly, he loves his little brother.

He also loves Meng Yao, who is currently pacing in circles around their living room. Lan Xichen watches him for another minute before asking mildly, “What is it?”

Meng Yao stops and looks at him with an uncharacteristic wild look in his eyes. “Who do you think is invited?” When Lan Xichen makes a questioning noise, he adds, “To the party later. Who do you think Wei Wuxian invited?”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen says, surprised. “I had not given it much thought. I assume he invited some of their friends, although I admit I do not know any of them. Why are you asking?”

“Er-ge,” Meng Yao replies, the desperate look not yet having left his eyes, “how many of these friends do you think will be human?”

Lan Xichen frowns. The truthful answer to this would, of course, be, I don’t know and presumably neither does Wei Wuxian. But he knows how serious his fiancé sometimes gets about these things, and he does not wish to ruin his little brother’s first ever birthday party. “Don’t worry,” he says instead. “I’m sure Wei Wuxian has thought this through. A little trust goes a long way.” And then, because Meng Yao does not appear convinced, Lan Xichen borrows a trick he’s seen Wei Wuxian do a hundred times with Lan Wangji: he kisses his fiancé in order to distract him from their conversation.

It works.

***

Wei Wuxian is excited. It’s quite possible that he’s never been this excited in his entire life, or at least not in the past few weeks, not since he rescued that baby racoon and had three glorious days with it before Lan Zhan returned from a business trip and pointed out that the racoon had destroyed most of their furniture and would be happier in the wilderness.

But this! This is infinitely more exciting than a racoon. This is Lan Zhan’s birthday party, and it’s the first of Lan Zhan’s birthdays that Wei Wuxian will be here for. What could be better than this?

Lan Zhan has this cute thing where he knows lots of people but barely likes any, so Wei Wuxian had to improvise a bit. He couldn’t invite any of Lan Zhan’s model colleagues, because Lan Zhan doesn’t like them, and when he asked Lan Zhan whom else he hangs out with, he said Wei Ying, which is adorable but not very helpful. So, instead of inviting the people Lan Zhan knows, Wei Wuxian has invited the people Wei Wuxian knows.

Well, some of them are people, anyway.

“Okay,” he shouts, lending his voice thunder to be heard over the deafening music that’s making their whole apartment vibrate. “Everyone! Lan Zhan will be here soon. Should we hide behind the furniture and yell Surprise when he comes in?”

Jiang Cheng, who’s always been better at thunder magic than Wei Wuxian, shouts back, “If you want it to be a surprise, turn off the fucking music!”

“I can’t,” Wei Wuxian yells, “it’s not mine!”

“It’s mine,” Xue Yang says happily. “I’ve worked very hard on this mix, and I sold a firstborn to make it really perfect.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “I didn’t know you had any children.”

“I don’t,” Xue Yang says, and turns up the music even louder. It’s fine, they’ve already got so many noise complaints, what’s one more, really?

Across the room, Lan Xichen is feeding Meng Yao little bits of finger food. Meng Yao is blushing, which is horrible and makes Wei Wuxian feel so embarrassed for him. What kind of gross people would do something this intimate in public? Shameful! He’s been avoiding Meng Yao ever since he came in, aware of the fact that this whole party is highly illegal by DILF standards, and he vows to avoid him even more in the future.

Then the door opens, and in comes Lan Zhan. He has a second or so of looking dazed, right before Wei Wuxian tackles him to the floor. “Surprise,” he shouts in Lan Zhan’s ear, to make sure his weak little human ears hear him even over the music. Then he also licks the tip of those weak little human ears, because they’re so cute and right there and how could he not?

Across the room, he distinctly hears Meng Yao mutter, “Shameful.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, trying to shake him off. “Move.”

Wei Wuxian gets off him immediately. He’s always so worried about crushing Lan Zhan. Sometimes he has nightmares about how he’ll accidentally break one of Lan Zhan’s bones. They’re so fragile, it would be like snapping a twig. “Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Lan Zhan says, taking the proffered hand as he gets up. “You’ve invited people.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Wei Wuxian feels the need to reply anyway.

“Yes! It’s a surprise birthday party. For your birthday,” he adds unnecessarily. “Surprise! Everyone, shout Surprise!”

“SURPRISE,” the guests shout as one – all of them except Lan Xichen, who is too busy dabbing at his eyes with a tissue.

Lan Zhan isn’t crying, at least, he just looks fond and in love – exactly like he always looks, basically. “Thank you,” he says. “For my surprise birthday party.”

“Let’s get you a drink,” Wei Wuxian says, takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, where someone – Xue Yang? Did Wei Wuxian invite any other bartenders? – has prepared an assortment of cocktails. He picks one that looks like it would have neither alcohol nor blood in it, takes a little experimental sip and realises that nope, someone put fairy dust in this, which is basically like cocaine except more sparkly. He gets Lan Zhan a glass of water instead, thinking vaguely that maybe someone who is not him should put a sign in front of the cocktails at some point.

“Are you happy?” Wei Wuxian blurts out, just as Lan Zhan is taking his first sip. Lan Zhan seems happy, if a bit tired from whatever photoshoot he was doing, and although he’s changed into his regular clothes, he’s still wearing the makeup from the shoot. The problem is that Lan Zhan always seems happy, right up until the way when he doesn’t anymore, and after six months of dating – two months of marriage –, Wei Wuxian has yet to figure out a way to prevent Lan Zhan from ever being unhappy. It’s this horrible constant worry he has, like with the breaking bones but worse, because he can fix the bones probably but what if he can’t make Lan Zhan smile one day?

“I’m happy,” Lan Zhan says, putting the glass back down and putting one soft, scaleless hand against Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “I’m always happy, with you.”

“But I want you to be more happy,” Wei Wuxian insists stupidly. “I want you to be the happiest, all the time. Lan Zhan, lean in closer, I need to tell you something important.” Lan Zhan leans in obediently, and Wei Wuxian whispers into his ear, “I haven’t gotten you a gift I’m so sorry.”

When Lan Zhan pulls back, he’s smiling again. “You organised a party. And you-“

“Stop it,” Wei Wuxian commands, “don’t tell me I’m gift enough! Just tell me what to give you! What would make you the happiest right this very second?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply, but his smile has faded, and Wei Wuxian can just tell that he’s screwed up and this is one of Lan Zhan’s sad moments now, which is horrible and not at all what he wanted for today. “What is it?” he urges. “What’s wrong?”

“It is not,” Lan Zhan says, “your fault. I am only- I merely regret that one day, you will organise my funeral instead.”

Wei Wuxian is staring at him, knows he’s staring, but unable to stop. “What?”

“I’m mortal,” Lan Zhan reminds him, quietly, dropping his eyes like it’s shameful. “I know you are not.”

“That’s – is that all? That’s what’s worrying you?” Wei Wuxian asks. Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, his gaze still on the floor, so Wei Wuxian gently lifts his chin, forcing eye contact. He says, “We can fix that.”

***

Lan Wangji’s heart has belonged to Wei Wuxian since the day they met.

The choice, therefore, is not difficult.

The day after Lan Wangji’s birthday, Wei Wuxian disappears early in the morning and returns late at night. When he does, he has a knife with him. The knife is as thin as it’s sharp. It looks entirely ordinary, were it not for the small rune carved into its tip.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Are you sure?”

Lan Wangji, in lieu of an answer, unbuttons his shirt. He’s vaguely satisfied to hear Wei Wuxian’s breath hitch. Even after all this time, Wei Wuxian still treats Lan Wangji like something ethereal.

“Last chance to back out,” Wei Wuxian warns him.

“Do it,” Lan Wangji says.

The first cut hurts. After that, he welcomes the pain like a lover, riding the waves of it in ecstasy. After it’s done, Wei Wuxian looks up at him, his hands bloody, his face asking a silent question. Lan Wangji nods. Wei Wuxian smiles, and devours Lan Wangji’s heart whole.

Lan Wangji stays awake long enough to note Wei Wuxian ghosting quick kisses all over his face, his lips smeared crimson. “I love you,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “I love you so much. I can’t believe you let me do that. I love you.”

He sleeps.

When he wakes up, his eyes are glowing red.