Work Text:
‘...the honey should be warm but not hot.’
Wei Ying hears Yanli’s voice through the kitchen window as he goes by in search of the woodworker and scrap lumber. He debates the possibility of snagging something tasty if he surprises her, then shakes his head. No, this is the first free morning he’s had in weeks and he’s damn well going to try out this idea if it kills him. Which he’s assured Lan Zhan it won’t. He’s pretty sure about that. If it sets something on fire, that’s hardly likely to be fatal and -- well, it’ll really be Jiang Cheng’s problem, isn’t it?
He passes by in the other direction with an armload of wood scraps and some tools stuffed in his belt and hears Yanli again: ‘Oh, no, don’t worry about that. It will come out when you bake it.’
That sounds most promising for something delicious showing up later in the day.
The talisman does not, in fact, explode or catch fire or show any signs of being fatal but it doesn’t do anything else either, just…sits. Perhaps the wood is too much? He’d been so sure it would work that he ends up sitting on the floor and glaring at it rather than doing anything useful which is how Lan Zhan finds him in the afternoon.
‘An unsuccessful experiment.’
‘Hmph.’
‘They can’t all be instant triumphs, love, even for you.’ Lan Zhan settles beside him on the step up to the actual seating area and pats his shoulder.
‘They could try a little harder.’ Wei Ying reaches out and flicks the rough little bird with a finger, setting it rocking on the smoothly polished floor.
‘What were you aiming for?’
‘A messenger.’ Wei Ying frowns. ‘Maybe I wasn’t specific enough? Maybe I need to try sending it to someone away from me?’
‘Did you give it a message?’
‘I thought I did.’ Wei Ying spins the thing around so the marks on the other side show. Lan Zhan stretches and picks it up, careful not to touch where Wei Ying’s blood has stained the wood. ‘Any ideas?’
Lan Zhan hums under his breath and sets the bird back down. ‘I think -- perhaps --’ He touches the figure with one finger and transfers the smallest possible spark of blue light; the wood instantly shimmers into awkward life, starting to bounce around in a small circle, making a muffled noise that could, with some practice, be distinguished as speech.
Wei Ying claps his hands. ‘Lan Zhan! Who’s the genius now!’
‘Still you,’ Lan Zhan replies, watching the bird hop. ‘I think you made a mnemonic device, not a messenger.’
Wei Ying tilts his head and, yes, if he pays very close attention, the bird is making noises that sound like Wei Ying’s muttering when he’s at work on something, if more garbled. ‘Mm. So. Interesting but not quite what I had in mind.’
They watch the thing shuffle around in increasingly lopsided circles mumbling to itself until Wei Ying clears his throat. ‘Well, it’s clearly not going to do anything else. Stop it, would you?’
Lan Zhan reaches out and touches the bird again and it falls back to inanimate wood.
Well, it’s something, but it isn’t what he wanted it to be, so he twists around and turns his attention to Lan Zhan which is always more enjoyable. ‘I think at least half the genius here is yours.’
‘Oh?’ Lan Zhan pushes himself back into the angle of the wall as Wei Ying moves around to sprawl over Lan Zhan’s lap.
‘I couldn’t get it to do anything and look at you!’ Wei Ying waves a hand at the bird. ‘One touch and boom!’ The corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth curves slightly and Wei Ying snickers because the reminder of their first night together will never not be funny. Here and now, he reaches up to loop his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, leaning back slightly so the theatrical pout he puts on will have better effect. ‘Where have you been anyway? You’ve been gone almost all day.’
‘I had letters to answer.’ Lan Zhan presses the pad of his thumb in the center of Wei Ying’s lower lip and Wei Ying is just about to try and catch it with his tongue, when Lan Zhan goes on: ‘But I have been with your sister for most of the morning.’
‘That is an excellent place to be -- oh, but is she sharing all my embarrassing baby stories? Honestly, she makes most of them up.’ Wei Ying shakes a finger at Lan Zhan. ‘A’Cheng makes all of them up.’ Lan Zhan knows this perfectly well; Wei Ying just enjoys seeing the glint of a laugh deep in his eyes.
Lan Zhan leans forward and kisses him, the tip of his tongue teasing along Wei Ying’s lips until Wei Ying sighs happily and opens his mouth. Lan Zhan tastes -- sweet, almost flowery. Wei Ying takes a last thoughtful taste and leans back far enough to speak. ‘You’re developing a sweet tooth?’
‘Mm.’ Lan Zhan presses another kiss to his mouth. ‘For you.’
‘For me?’ Wei Ying leans forward again and slicks his tongue over Lan Zhan’s lower lip. A deliberately sweetened Lan Zhan has an appeal, he won’t deny it, but it isn’t as though the way he usually tastes is anything to complain about.
He draws back and Lan Zhan clears his throat, color smudging into his cheeks which really just makes Wei Ying want to lean in and kiss him longer and more carefully and get that blush to spread.
‘Your sister was kind enough to teach me how to make the honey cake you like.’
Wei Ying blinks. ‘That was you in the kitchen?’
‘Mm.’
‘You could have asked her to write down the recipe for one of the cooks.’
‘I could.’ Lan Zhan spreads his legs a little, raising one knee against the wall to give Wei Ying a more comfortable backrest. Wei Ying props his knees over Lan Zhan’s other thigh and looks at him. Lan Zhan looks back calmly. ‘I thought I would like to be able to make it for you.’
Wei Ying blinks. ‘I…’
‘You learned to make tea for me,’ Lan Zhan says, as if making tea is in any way comparable and as if people tell Wei Ying they’ve learned to make things for him all the time. Wei Ying can’t think and embarrassment combines with affection in a way that leaves his only option burying his face against Lan Zhan’s throat.
Lan Zhan’s other arm comes up around his shoulders and Lan Zhan holds him as if sniffling about cake is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
‘You can’t call me ridiculous any more,’ Wei Ying says thickly into Lan Zhan’s collarbone, jabbing him somewhere in the chest with one finger. ‘You’re ridiculous.’
Lan Zhan hums and says nothing, instead catching Wei Ying's prodding hand and kissing his fingertips, then gathering it in his own. His other arm tightens gently around Wei Ying’s shoulders and Wei Ying lets himself be pulled close and held.