Archive of Our Own

The first time it happens a part of Lan Wangji dies. At very least he must be in the process of dying because there is no other explanation for the way his heart tries to beat out of his ribcage like a trapped hummingbird. His hands go clammy, and his vision is sort of fuzzy around the edges like somebody turned on the vignette filter on a photo editing app. The only logical conclusion is that Lan Wangji is in fact dying.

“Lan Zhan? Hey! Lan Zhaaaan, Lan er-gege, are you listening to me?“, Wei Ying is asking, like he didn’t just kill Lan Wangji with one well timed word. A blow to his entire being. He feels carved out, hollow, unmoored with it.

“Are you okay? Are you having a fever gege?”, he sounds increasingly concerned now. Lan Wangji should probably say something, but he is too busy spiralling to do anything about the way Wei Ying is crawling out of the blanket nest he built himself in the corner of Lan Wangji’s couch. He climbs over to where Lan Wangji was peacefully reading his book not too long ago. Suddenly there’s a lot of Wei Ying in his general proximity, worry written all over his sweet little face. Which is actually entirely unhelpful, because the way in which his best friend is draping himself all over Lan Wangji makes the shirt he is wearing (one of Lan Wangji’s) gape open around the neckline, allowing a perfect view of his delicate collarbones. The visceral, primal urge to bite them surges through Lan Wangji. He tries to reign it back between his ribs where it usually sits. Always present but contained like a feral dog in a muzzle. Wei Ying is touching his forehead now.

“Are you okay? Your face is really warm. You know I always get worried when you zone out on me. When other people do it, I understand it, because… aha ha you know me. I talk a lot and sometimes people have to just… not listen to me for a bit. I get it. It’s not like I am saying anything of importance anyway. But you usually listen, so this is kind of not normal for you and you know how I get worried…” While he is talking a mile an hour he keeps pawing at Lan Wangji’s face, who is still trying to come to terms with the fact that Wei Ying called him baby like it’s something they just do. Like he didn’t turn Lan Wangji’s world on its head in doing so.

“People should listen to you”, Lan Wangji presses out around his feelings. They clog his throat, choking him a little bit more than he is used to. His voice is grave. Because Wei Ying is important, and his words are important. He is funny and quick witted and brilliant, and people should listen to him, and Lan Wangji is losing his mind.

“Aha, so serious gege. I know I am too much for most people. It’s alright.” Fortunately, Lan Wangji is not most people. He thinks most people can suck it. If Wei Ying is too much for them, they should go find less. Boring assholes.

“People should listen to you. It is impolite not to listen to one’s conversation partner”, he says once more. Wei Ying needs to understand that he deserves people’s undivided attention.

“It doesn’t matter”, his best friend says, and Lan Wangji disagrees heavily with that point.

“It does.”

“So stubborn gege.”

Wei Ying smiles around the words, small and private. Lan Wangji has to look away from him for a second to regroup. But Wei Ying’s soft, flushed cheeks, the gentle curve of his mouth and the high cut of his cheekbones are etched into his mind. Probably forever. He tucks them into that one corner specially reserved for Wei Ying, in order to keep them safe from the harsh light of the day. Wei Ying’s hands are still roaming over his face, his neck, his shoulders. Having his eyes closed is infinitely worse, because he can now feel all the places Wei Ying is pressed up against him, body warm and insistent.  He opens his eyes again but averts his gaze somewhere to the right of Wei Ying. Sometimes looking at him feels like staring straight into the open sun. Even if Lan Wangji has never done anything remotely straight in his life.

“Are you alright Lan Zhan? You are okay, right? Not feeling under the weather?”, Wei Ying asks. The frantic, worried quality to his voice still not losing its fervour.

“I’m fine”, he chokes out and catches Wei Ying’s wrist, to stop him from patting further down Lan Wangji’s body. He is going to die if Wei Ying doesn’t stop. Or worse: He is going to kiss Wei Ying into the cushions of his couch.

“Okay. Haha. That’s good.”

His other hand freezes somewhere on Lan Wangji’s right pectoral, who looks at him again and finds his gaze immediately drawn to Wei Ying’s mouth. He can never look away for long. The need to kiss Wei Ying silly, that always sits right behind Lan Wangji’s sternum, turns hot and then cold and then – impossibly – more insistent. Wei Ying blinks at him a little dazed. He is so beautiful. Lan Wangji’s poor, gay little heart kicks in his chest. He tries not to let the hope inside it bloom, but it is a useless fight. He knows this. The hope will bloom, and Wei Ying will accidentally and unknowingly step on the flowers that Lan Wangji grows in the wake of his existence, and it will be fine. Lan Wangji must be fine with that.

Wei Ying shakes himself out of his daze and moves back as if only just noticing that he is practically perched in Lan Wangji’s lap. He lets him go reluctantly and watches Wei Ying’s retreat with an ache in his chest.

“Anyway. As I was saying before: What do you want to eat? Wen Qing texted me and asked if we wanted to meet the others for Hot Pot”, Wei Ying goes over to the regularly scheduled program like nothing happened.

Lan Wangji is, unfortunately, still reeling from everything that transpired in the last fifteen minutes, but he makes an effort to pull himself together for Wei Ying’s sake.

“What do you want to eat?”, he asks.

“No! No Lan Zhan. This isn’t about me!”

“It is now. What do you want to eat Wei Ying?”

He knows that he is being stubborn, but he would truly be fine with anything if Wei Ying was fine with it as well. Wei Ying tends to bend and mould and break himself into whatever shape he thinks people need him to be and Lan Wangji just needs him to not do that. At least not with him. Sometimes that means forcing Wei Ying to make the decision according to what he wants and not what he thinks Lan Wangji wants. Wei Ying is quiet for a while, nudging Lan Wangji with his foot, probably without noticing. Wei Ying is often quiet Lan Wangji finds. Most people don’t seem to notice.

Lan Wangji is not most people.

“I… To be honest I kinda just want to stay in with you and order a bunch of Korean food”, Wei Ying says after a few more silent moments have passed between them. “I also really, really don’t want to squeeze back into my skinny jeans just to go back outside”, Wei Ying adds after a moment of consideration. Which is also merciful considering that Lan Wangji would probably have an aneurism if he saw Wei Ying in his skinny jeans right now.

“Okay”, Lan Wangji agrees readily and hands Wei Ying his phone, delivery service pulled up already. “I’m paying”, he says so Wei Ying doesn’t get any ideas. His best friend happily hums to himself while ordering food on Wangji’s phone and Lan Wangji can’t help but think that he would buy Wei Ying all the Korean food he could ever want for, if it meant he kept looking like this. All soft and cosy in Lan Wangji’s space. Hell, he’ll buy him the whole Korean restaurant. Wei Ying would never let him of course, but a man can dream.

Wei Ying is wearing Lan Wangji’s shirt and Lan Wangji’s lounge pants that he has to roll up three times in order to not trip over the hem while walking and whose waistband keeps slipping down his torso, hanging low on his hips. A special form of torture for Lan Wangji’s self-control. He wants to rip them off Wei Ying. He also wants to keep Wei Ying in his clothing forever. His feelings are often very contradictory when it comes to Wei Ying. He is used to it. The fuzzy blanket that Lan Wangji bought precisely because he knew Wei Ying would love it, is still draped over the corner of the couch that Wei Ying had occupied not too long ago, when he called Lan Wangji baby for the first time and fried all synapses in his brain. The whole living room bears witness of Wei Ying’s presence. Like the popsicle sticks from his latest architecture project strewn atop Lan Wangji’s dining table or his shoes messily thrown next to Lan Wangji’s carefully aligned ones in the entryway of the flat. Most people would annoy Lan Wangji if they took up this much of his space. Wei Ying is not most people.

✨ ✨ ✨

The second time it happens they are unfortunately out and about in the questionable company of Wei Ying’s brother.

“Hold my bag for a moment Lan Zhan, Lan er-gege, baby. I want to climb up there to get a better look over the river!”

Lan Wangji dies again. He can feel the way his soul is leaving his body, free falling with the ground pulled out under him like this. He only recovers a bit quicker than last time because Jiang Cheng’s presence is like a thorn in his side, reminding him of where he is. His system is just about to reboot, and he makes to reach for Wei Ying’s bag, as Jiang Cheng opens his big mouth to ruin it as always.

“What the fuck? Is he your servant? Can you not carry your own weight for once in your life?”, he scuffs, and Lan Wangji wants to throttle him. The light in Wei Ying’s eyes dims a little, but he instantaneously plasters his biggest smile onto his face and throws his arm around his brothers’ shoulders.

“What happened to you didi? Why are you so grumpy today? Not that you’re not always grumpy. That is kind of your perpetual state of being now that I think about it.”

Wei Ying always does this. He hides his hurt behind teasing and smiles big and bright enough to blind.

“Whatever. You always treat him like that. One day he will just up and leave your annoying ass”, Jiang Cheng says. Maybe throttling him is too kind a fate. Maybe Lan Wangji should just kill him altogether. But Wei Ying would never forgive him because he somehow loves his idiot of a brother and continues to try healing whatever an upbringing by an especially horrible mother did to their brotherhood. Strained relationship be damned, he still tries his best to make up with Jiang Cheng for something he isn’t even at fault for. Lan Wangji despises it only a little.

“I would never leave Wei Ying”, he says instead of giving into his more violent urges. Like pushing Jiang Cheng over the railing of the bridge and into the water below. He would make for a very ugly drowned body. He already makes for a very ugly living body Lan Wangji thinks petulantly, because he is petty and angry at Jiang Cheng.

“See! Lan Zhan loves me because I am awesome and very lovable.” Wei Ying says it as if it’s a joke.

“Mn”, Lan Wangji confirms anyway and takes Wei Ying’s backpack. It’s black and seems like it should fall apart at the seams at any given moment. Every spare inch of fabric is covered by pins and patches, some of them gifts from Lan Wangji himself. His personal favourites are the two cuddling bunnies smack in the centre of the biggest front pocket.

“Look! It’s us gege!”, Wei Ying had said and pointed at the patch. Lan Wangji had also died a little back then.

“Thanks, gege. You really are the best.” Present day Wei Ying beams at Lan Wangji and climbs up onto the railing, holding onto the pole of a lantern for stability. Lan Wangji’s heart gives a flutter as he looks up at Wei Ying who is looking down at the river glimmering in the dark of the night because of all the boats and restaurants lining the riverbank. His eyes sparkle and he looks so undeniably ethereal, hair wild and free and never staying in place. He looks larger than life like this.

“Ugh you’re so childish”, Jiang Cheng comments. Murder! Lan Wangji thinks violently.

“And you’re a stick in the mud! Live a little didi. It’s more fun to be childish from time to time”, Wei Ying laughs.

Lan Wangji loves him like this. Happy. Wei Ying should always be happy.

“Catch me, Lan Zhan!”, he calls and flings himself off the railing and into Lan Wangji’s already outstretched arms.

Wei Ying crashes into him like a tidal wave and Lan Wangji can do nothing but hold him close and spin him indulgently in a circle, before setting him down on his feet. His cheeks are flushed, and he is looking up at Lan Wangji with a secret twinkle in his almond shaped eyes. Like they both know something that the rest of the world isn’t privy to.

“You have something in your hair er-gege.” Wei Ying reaches up and plucks a tiny leaf out of Lan Wangji’s hair. “I’m keeping this”, he decides and puts it into Lan Wangji’s coat pocket. “Keep track of that for me, would you? I am just gonna lose or destroy it otherwise.”

“Mn”, Lan Wangji confirms. His hands are still settled on Wei Ying’s waist. He has a hard time letting go again. “I will take care of it for Wei Ying.”

“Ugh you two disgust me”, Jiang Cheng bursts their bubble. It’s decided. He actually has to die. Lan Wangji wonders if Wei Ying would be into the convicted criminal thing. Probably not if the reason is Lan Wangji killing his brother.

“Love you too Didi”, Wei Ying singsongs and leaves the save circle of Lan Wangji’s arms to take his little brother in a loving chokehold.

He feels strangely cold now that there is no more Wei Ying pressed up against his body, but his heart is full, full, full as he watches Wei Ying laugh at Jiang Cheng’s indignant squawking.

Baby, he thinks to himself and comes alive with it.

✨ ✨ ✨

Lan Wangji thinks that he is prepared now. He should be anyway. He is not going to die inside if Wei Ying ever decides to call him baby again. Maybe he will still startle a little, but nobody has to know about that. At least that’s what he tells himself as he makes his way over from the music building to the architecture faculty, coffee cup in one hand, brown paper bag filled with pastries in the other. It’s 4 pm. Wei Ying probably hasn’t eaten anything yet. That’s the only reason Lan Wangji brings him his favourite croissant aux amandes from his favourite French cafè that is just a little out of the way. Lan Wangji is merely a concerned friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He finds Wei Ying hunched over his newest model, gluing more popsicle sticks to a tiny roof.

“I really can’t see them anymore Lan Zhan”, he had once lamented. “It’s so unfair. This has ruined popsicles for me for all eternity. A grave injustice. You should fight all popsicle sticks in the world for me.”

I would. Lan Wangji had thought. I would fight the whole world for you.

Wei Ying looks up when Lan Wangji enters the workshop and places the brown paper bag and the coffee down next to him. There are dark shadows under his eyes.

“Lan Zhan! You’re here.”

“Mn. Wei Ying did not answer my text”, Lan Wangji says.

“Oh. Urgh. I’m sorry about that. Can’t really look at my phone right now. I kinda lost the quick dry glue and now I have to wait and wait and wait for fucking ages until the normal glue is dry enough, so the popsicle tiles don’t slide right off the roof haha. What did you text me about?” He is holding two little tiles in place with his hands, Lan Wangji only now notices. It seems tedious.

“I wanted to know if you were still amenable for dinner later.”

“Yeah. Of course. How late is it anyway?”, Wei Ying wants to know.

Lan Wangji takes a look at his wristwatch, an antique gifted to him by his uncle, then looks back up at Wei Ying.

“Close to 4:30 pm”, he says.

“Oh fuck”, Wei Ying makes a pained face, “I forgot to call back Shijie. Could you maybe text her for me? Pretty please?”

He pouts up at Lan Wangji as if he wouldn’t do anything Wei Ying asked of him anyway. He nods in confirmation anyway and looks around for Wei Ying’s phone. Lan Wangji finds it wedged in between two slabs of wood on one of the workbenches and doesn’t even question how it got there.

“What’s the passcode?”

“A-Yuan’s birthday”, Wei Ying answers and reaches for the next small tile.

Lan Wangji unlocks the phone. Wei Ying’s background is a photo taken during an outing with the rest of their friends. Wen Qing and Wen Ning smile their identical smiles at the camera. Wei Ying is grinning at Jiang Cheng, who is rolling his eyes and Lan Wangji… well Lan Wangji is looking at Wei Ying. How Wei Ying didn’t see the picture and immediately knew that Lan Wangji carries a massive torch for him, he doesn’t know or understand either. Lan Wangji’s eyes are soft, his gaze fond and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the beginning of a smile. It’s a little embarrassing to see himself looking like that. So obviously in love.

He opens WeChat and immediately freezes. His heart stutters in his chest and there is a faint ringing in his ears, blood rushing to his ears so quickly he almost gets whiplash from it. Lan Wangji doesn’t even make it to Wei Ying’s chat with his sister, because there it sits. Perfectly innocent at the top of all Wei Ying’s messages: Lan Wangji’s last message asking if they were still on for dinner. That is not what has killed Lan Wangji once again. It's his contact’s name. Which must be newly changed. Lan Wangji is reeling with it. He is a dead, dead man.

Lan Zhan Baobei <3

15:37     Do you still want to go to that fusion place for dinner later?

Lan Zhan Baobei <3.

Baobei.

Lan Wangji’s brain has a very hard time grasping what his eyes are seeing right in front of them.

“Lan Zhaaaan? Are you zoning out again? Have you found my chat with shijie?”

“I… no. Wait a second”, Lan Wangji chokes out.

Do friends save each other as baobei in their contacts? Is that a thing? Or is that just a Wei Ying thing? What does it all mean? He forces himself to scroll down and click onto Jiang Yanli’s profile picture.

“What shall I write?”, he asks surprised by how stable his voice sounds. No wonder people think him unmovable and cold.

“Just text her that we will be at her and the peacocks place at 2 pm on Sunday and that we will bring those fancy little puff pastry roll thingies you made for your brother’s gathering last month”, Wei Ying answers and picks up another popsicle tile, putting glue onto it without looking. He will glue his own fingers to the cardboard roof again, Lan Wangji thinks. It has happened before.

“Do you want to make those?”, he asks Wei Ying, one eyebrow arched. His best friend gasps at his words in mock offence.

“Is that doubt I hear in your voice there gege? Have you got so little faith in my abilities concerning baked goods?”

“Mn.”

“Unbelievable! I am so hurt. I can’t even express how much pain this has caused me. You have wounded me fatally er-gege. Take responsibility!” Were it not for his occupied hands, Wei Ying would have dramatically slid down to the ground already. Lan Wangji is sure of it.

“Mn. I will make the finger food and I will take responsibility for Wei Ying too”, he says and can’t quite keep the fondness out of his voice at Wei Ying’s usual antics.

“Oh nooooo, I didn’t want that at all”, Wei Ying lies.

“Lying is forbidden”, Lan Wangji says.

“So upright gege. I admire your integrity and unwavering adherence to morality and ethics, but you cannot expect the same level of self-discipline from a mere mortal.”

“Do you need help?”, Lan Wangji asks him, instead of indulging his theatrics further, nodding towards the model. He knows how impossible it is for Wei Ying to pause a task and do something else, like eating or drinking or tending to any number of physical urges. It is always easier to help him finish whatever he is doing and then make him eat something. Wei Ying looks down at his hands as if he’d forgotten what they were doing.

“Oh… huh… Sure yeah. That would be nice.”

Together they finish the roof fairly quick.

“Thank you gege. You really are the bestest.”

“Mn”, Lan Wangji hums in confirmation. “You should eat.”

“Ouh food? What did you bring?”

“Look for yourself.”

Wei Ying grabs the bag from where it sits next to him und peeks inside. He makes an excited noise and pulls the croissant out.

“I love you so much it’s not even funny!”, he exclaims, and Lan Wangji can feel his ears flushing scarlet in response. He doesn’t dare say it back even though it’s true. It seems unfair to burden Wei Ying with the brunt of his emotions without his best friend knowing how Lan Wangji actually feels, how deep his feelings go, without Wei Ying feeling the same. The words don’t hold the same  meaning coming from Lan Wangji’s mouth.

Still, he thinks to himself, Wei Ying loves me.

✨ ✨ ✨

It becomes somewhat normal after that. Not normal in the way Lan Wangji reacts to it. Hearing Wei Ying call him baby or baobei still pulls the ground out from under him. But it becomes a regular occurrence, and he learns to deal with it a little better. Sometimes he wonders how he ever lived without Wei Ying calling him baby. He doesn’t ever want it to end.

He thinks about it as he moves around his apartment, getting ready to go to bed. A part of him can’t help but wonder what it will be like when Wei Ying inevitably starts dating someone again. Will he stop then? Will he continue? Will whoever holds his affections be jealous? Will they fight and break up because of it? He is aware that it is unkind and mean to think about a breakup that would probably hurt Wei Ying, even if it's just hypothetical, but Lan Wangji can’t help it.

He makes a cup of tea and stares out the kitchen window. The cities night lights twinkle, and he misses the quiet piece and nature of Gusu. It aches a little. He should visit his brother and uncle soon.

Lan Wangji is about to text Lan Xichen when he hears someone knock at his apartment door. He wonders if it is the little old lady two doors down the hall. She needs his help getting down things from high up on the shelves sometimes. But when he opens the door, it is Wei Ying standing there, shivering with blood-shot eyes and seemingly crumbling in on himself. He takes one look at Lan Wangji’s state – hair in a braid, pyjamas on – and starts apologizing profusely.

“Did I wake you, Lan Zhan? Were you already asleep? You look like you were already asleep. I’m so sorry. I will go. You can go back to sleep. I just… I will go. I am sorry. I should have texted first. I should have…”

“Wei Ying”, he interrupts his best friend, “Would you like to come in?”

Wei Ying is eerily quiet for a few seconds. Then he takes a tentative step toward Lan Wangji. He seems so small like this. Lan Wangji pulls him into his chest and hugs him tight, tight, tight. Wei Ying cries silently. He always does. It is one more thing he tries to hide away from the world. Only his shaking shoulders and the warm wet patch forming on Lan Wangji’s sleep shirt are indicating that he is shedding tears at all. Lan Wangji bundles him up in his arms, buries his nose in Wei Ying’s hair and just holds him, until the shaking lessens.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, Lan Wangji whispers then into the silence between them.

Wei Ying comes out of hiding in his chest and looks up at him, eyes big and round and wet and still so beautiful. Lan Wangji can’t help himself. He presses a soft kiss between Wei Ying’s furrowed eyebrows and gently wipes the tears from under his eyes with his thumbs. Wei Ying’s breath hitches.

“I…”, he starts and swallows, “I don’t know.”

“Tea first?”, Lan Wangji suggests.

They make their way to the kitchen. The cup still sitting on the windowsill has gone cold. They must’ve stood in the entrance hugging longer than Lan Wangji thought.

Wei Ying sits at the table quietly, pulls his feet up onto the chair und hugs his knees to his chest, back leaned against the lime washed wall. He feels like a phantom. A shadow of his usual self.

“Lavender-chamomile alright with you?”, Lan Wangji asks him just to keep him engaged and in the moment.

“Yeah.”

He prepares the tea all while sipping his own cold one and thinks about what to do. He wishes he was good at consoling people, like Xichen. When the water had boiled and the herbs have soaked in it for long enough, he moves them to the sofa. He wraps Wei Ying in the fuzzy blanket and places the cup into his hands. For a while they just sit there. Wei Ying staring into the steam and probably dissociating a bit.

“Wei Ying”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say. His best friend looks up from his tea and tries to bestow a weak smile onto Lan Wangji. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, Lan Zhan. Just… it’s just family stuff.”

Lan Wangji makes a – hopefully - inquiring noise. Of course, Wei Ying doesn’t have to talk about it, but they both know that he has to talk about things to work through them if he doesn’t want them to eat him up from the inside out.

“Family dinner to be more precise. Aunty Yu was… well you know how she is, and you know how I am. Never able to shut my mouth. Always talking back. I should really learn how to pick my fights, but she was just so unfair to Jiang Cheng and I couldn’t… Ah Lan Zhan I couldn’t just say nothing, you know”, He chuckles sadly and takes a tiny sip of his tea. Lan Wangji waits for him to continue and tries to exude an atmosphere of calm openness.

“It doesn’t even matter what she said. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. It’s just… I wish I wouldn’t have to… constantly distance myself from my family, because it kills my spirit and my soul otherwise.” He pauses and sniffs, “I love… I love them. I am grateful to them. I don’t want to need… safety distance and like 3 months of space between meetings with my family. It makes me feel like… like a loose kite in a storm. Can I tell you something terrible gege?”, he asks voice quiet.

“Wei Ying can tell me anything.”

“Sometimes… Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gone to therapy. Don’t say anything about that. I know it’s stupid. I probably wouldn’t be here without therapy, but sometimes there’s this little voice inside my head telling me that it was… easier to exist in the same space as Yu-ayi when I had no boundaries and no strength to… not yield to her, I guess. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gone to therapy and just continued letting her walk all over me, because at least then I would see my family more often. Sometimes it feels like me being a somewhat functioning adult has opened up an unbreachable gap between me and my siblings.”

“Wei Ying”, Lan Wangji says again and his heart breaks for Wei Ying. It reminds him of the time his first bunny Lola died, and Wei Ying had cried for him, because he couldn’t. Tears had seemed so far away and so inconsequential and Lan Wangji had still held onto the internalised belief of not being allowed to show emotions outwardly. So Wei Ying had cried for him and cuddled him the whole night through. They take care of each other like that. It’s the best thing in Lan Wangji’s life.

Wei Ying takes a shuddering breath and drinks more tea.

“I am so sick of feeling like this, baby”, he whispers. “Like I’m too big and too small for my own body at the same time. Like I take up too much space always. Like I’m a burden and a nuisance and never enough no matter how hard I try.”

“Wei Ying, you’re not a burden. You are deserving of love without conventions and expectations attached to it.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t even really register the baby, so preoccupied with all the wrong things Wie Ying just said.

“I know, I know. Therapy has to have some positive effect on even me, right? I know all these things rationally. I just can’t feel them most of the time.”

They sit in the silence of the dark living room. Night settling around them like the fuzzy blanket that is slipping from Wei Ying’s shoulder at the moment.

“Do you want to stay the night?”, he asks his best friend after a moment. “You can have my flannel pyjamas and I will make you breakfast in the morning.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You are not imposing. I am offering.”

“Yeah”, Wei Ying nods, “Yeah okay. Can you get over here now and cuddle me?”

The next morning Lan Wangji is unable to get up for a long time because Wei Ying is sleeping in his bed. His hair is pooling on Lan Wangji’s pillow. Shocking like a spill of nightly dark ink on the white of his linen. The angular line of his shoulders rising and falling with his slowed down breathing. The morning sunlight hits Lan Wangji’s blinds just right at this time of day, making the dust particles at the foot of the bed dance like little fairies and casting the room in a soft glow. He loves it, usually. Today Lan Wangji doesn’t notice it the way he normally would, because he can’t tear his gaze away from the feathery shadow Wei Ying’s lashes cast on his soft cheeks. Because Wei Ying is in his bed, warming his sheets and Lan Wangji’s heart is full, full, full with it.

✨ ✨ ✨

Wei Ying is deadly. Lan Wangji knows this. He is in fact incessantly aware of it. Wei Ying is even more deadly in eyeliner and ripped jeans.  This knowledge however doesn’t help him when faced with a very stunning, very scantily clad, and very drunk Wei Ying. Maybe he has finally died and gone to heaven. Or to a personal hell where he is only allowed to watch, but never touch.

“Lan Zhan! Dance with me!”, Wei Ying demands and plops down next to Lan Zhan so close that he is practically perched in his lap. Suddenly it’s very hard to think, his brain consisting only of static noise.

“I… don’t dance”, he manages to croak out. The music and lights are pulsing around them, making it even harder for him to figure out how to react to Wei Ying’s proximity like a normal human being would.

“Baby, baby please.” He ducks down and hides his face in Lan Wangji’s neck. Wei Ying’s hot, damp breath hits his skin, and he shivers. Fortunately, none of their friends are close by right now. Lan Wangji can imagine Wen Qing’s knowing gaze all too well and he doesn’t think he could take that level of being known at the moment.

“I really, really want to dance with you.” Wei Ying shifts so that both his legs are thrown over Lan Wangji’s lap. He is so very close. Lan Wangji can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but hold onto Wei Ying’s criminally tiny waist when he sways to the side and almost falls over onto the dirty floor of the club.

They are celebrating Nie Huaisang’s birthday in one of the clubs their friend group frequents. Usually, Lan Wangji doesn’t go out with them, but Huaisang and Wei Ying begged him respectively and while he has no problem saying no to Huaisang, even enjoys it occasionally, he has never been able to say no to Wei Ying. At least not for a long time. Maybe he would’ve said no when they had just met, and he had still been in denial about his own feelings, choosing to interpret them as anger and dislike instead of what they are.

“Babyyy, please?”, Wei Ying whines again, lips moving softly over his neck and to his mortification Lan Wangji can feel himself harden in his slacks. He wonders if he could fuck Wei Ying so good, he cried. It wouldn’t be very difficult, he muses.

It’s so hot in the club, music loud, oxygen sparce, lights low and colourful, but all Lan Wangji can feel is how Wei Ying is pressed up against him in the tiny booth Huaisang reserved for them tucked away in the back of the establishment. The full length of his body is touching Lan Wangji’s. He wants nothing more than to take Wei Ying home, lay him out on his bed and take him apart slowly, until he is loose and in pieces and then he wants to carefully put him back together. Would he be loud? Or quiet? Would he talk a mile an hour or would he only moan, be rendered incoherent? Would he like to be edged by Lan Wangji? Would be beg all pretty for him? Wangji shakes his head to clear the thoughts, but all that does is jostle Wei Ying, who whines again and latches onto him even harder. All of a sudden it is of utmost importance, that he does not stay so close. Lan Wangji gets up abruptly. Wei Ying topples over and looks up at him with big, surprised eyes.

“Lan Zhan?”, he asks confused, slurring the words a little bit. His eyes are so big.

“Let’s go dance”, Lan Wangji says in a fit of horny madness, because he doesn’t love himself.

“Oh”, Wei Ying breathes and scrambles to his feet so quickly that he stumbles and falls against Lan Wangji’s chest, gazing up at him with hazy eyes. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Afterwards his mouth drops open a tiny bit, breath coming out in short little puffs. Lan Wangji knows how it feels against his neck now. He wants Wei Ying back in his lap, wants him to never leave, wants so many things at once it makes him dizzy. A part of him knows that all these things are a terrible idea, but it is getting smaller by the second.

“Lan Zhan”, he exhales, still looking up at him. They haven’t moved in what feels like a weird amount of time for two people who are supposed to make their way to the dance floor. Lan Wangji wants to kiss him so bad. It makes him feel feral and insane and ready to combust at any given moment. He doesn’t think it’s ever been as bad as right in this moment. All of a sudden Lan Wangji is simultaneously glad that he never went out dancing with his best friend before and insanely jealous of anyone who has ever gotten to see Wei Ying this way.

Lan Wangji takes his best friends hand and leads him to the dance floor like he’s going into battle. Maybe he is. Something is just out of whack today. He feels like someone moved the whole word an inch to the left and now he keeps bumping into things. Something is… off, but he can’t quite put his thumb on it.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan baobei, slow down a little”, Wei Ying wheezes behind him. Out of breath and still surprised.

Lan Wangji does slow down when they reach the middle of the rondelle, turns around and then he just… stands there in the middle of the dance floor. People are grinding against each other in tune with the bass vibrating around them. He wasn’t joking when he said he didn’t dance. This is so far out of his comfort zone, it’s not even the same country anymore. Lan Wangji can’t remember what he usually does with his arms. Are they always this superfluous? Do they always dangle this awkwardly at his sides? Wei Ying looks at him for a long moment and then starts to laugh outright. Lan Wangji feels a little lost, but Wei Ying laughing is always a good thing, so he’ll take it. Even if it is at his own expense.

“You… you look like a fish out of water”, he gasps between fits of laughter. “It’s alright gege. I will teach you the ropes of sexy club dancing.”

They do dance together. Slowly at first. Wei Ying’s arms thrown around Lan Wangji’s shoulders, swaying slowly and not at all fitting with the vibe of the music surrounding them. Lan Wangji’s arms still feel like unnecessary appendages. At least they do until Wei Ying grabs them and puts them around himself. He can feel the heat of Wei Ying’s skin where his cropped top has rucked up and thinks himself incredibly daring when he places his hands on Wei Ying’s waist.

Lan Wangji doesn’t think what they are doing necessarily qualifies as “sexy club dancing”, but what does he know? Maybe Wei Ying thinks this is sexy. At least they can both keep the rhythm. That is more than he can say about their fellow club goers. Then the song changes and suddenly Wei Ying is moving against him like water lapping at a shore. Fluid and playful and wonderful and horrible. The world narrows down again to the points of contact between them, and Wei Ying is looking up at him with his giant eyes, dark like moon lit ponds. It’s dangerous, because it makes him hope again, makes him wonder if he is not alone in this after all. Because Wei Ying put Lan Wangji’s hands on himself. Because Wei Ying is moving against him and around him and seems to try to get even closer with every move, seems to try to climb beneath Wangji’s skin, as if he doesn’t have a permanent home there already. Because Wei Ying is looking at him like he wants to be kissed, like he is wishing for it as much as Lan Wangji is.

“Baby”, he breathes softly against the shell of Lan Wangji’s ear, barely able to be heard over the music. Kissing him seems inevitable so Lan Wangji hides his face in Wei Ying’s neck to try and get a grasp on himself. He feels drunk on this night, even though he didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol. Maybe it’s just Wei Ying and his closeness. He is warm where his neck meets his shoulder and a little sweaty and he smells like club, but underneath it all is a note so distinctly Wei Ying it makes Lan Wangji’s head spin.

Unfortunately, his actions also bring Lan Wangji closer to Wei Ying’s collarbones than he has any right to be. He heaves out a breath and Wei Ying shudders against him, bringing his body impossibly closer. Something in Lan Wangji breaks and snaps and he can’t help himself. He bites. Wei Ying jerks away and then against him, clinging to Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life. He thinks Wei Ying makes a noise too, but he can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He thinks Wei Ying has one thigh hitched around his hip. Maybe Wangji is holding onto it too, pulling Wei Ying against himself. He doesn’t really know what the rest of his body is doing, mouth still latched onto the curve of Wei Ying’s neck. He will bruise, Lan Wangji thinks his first coherent thought in a while, and this is what finally shakes him from his reverie. He makes his teeth unclench and breathes into Wei Ying’s damp skin.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, baby, sweetheart”, Wei Ying says mindlessly above him. Lan Wangji can’t let him go. Instead, he tugs Wei Ying’s body closer by his thigh, his other arm snaking around Wei Ying’s waist to keep him from falling over and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the bitemark he just left. Wei Ying whines and buries his hands in Lan Wangji’s hair.

“Get up here! Get up here!”, he pants and pulls a little frantically at Lan Wangji’s hair, who can’t help but moan into the kisses he is still trailing up Wei Ying’s slender throat.

“Up, up here, baby!”

He obeys reluctantly, letting Wei Ying’s thigh drop in the process, but not the arm still slung around his waist. Somewhere in the last couple of minutes his hand has found its way under Wei Ying’s skimpy cropped top, thumb stroking the bare skin. Lan Wangji lowers his eyes when he has stood up to his full height again. He can’t bear to look at Wei Ying’s face right now, not when he doesn’t know what he is going to find there.

“Lan Zhan”, Wei Ying whispers and puts his hand on Lan Wangji’s cheek. Lan Wangji closes his eyes and leans into the warmth, turns his face, presses a kiss to Wei Ying’s palm. He has dug his own grave today already anyway. What is a little more digging in the grand scheme of things. He can already smell the damp earth on his tongue. Might as well put his whole body into it.

“Look at me, please baobei”, Wei Ying says with a hitch in his breath, so he does. He does, because he is always looking anyway.

“There you are. Hi.”

“Hi”, he rasps back, and Wei Ying is smiling at him. His small and private smile, this time a little unsure.

“Is this okay?”, Lan Wangji asks, even though it is a bit late for that maybe.

Wei Ying nods.

Wangji still reprimands himself for not getting consent first. He will meditate about it later to reflect on his actions and do better in the future.

“Yeah. I… uhmmm… You… ah”, Wei Ying says, words apparently gone, now that he has Lan Wangji looking at him again. He is so gorgeous. Lan Wangji never wants to look away.

“Fuck”, Wei Ying says after a few seconds of staring at Lan Wangji, and, with a determined look in his eyes, leans in to kiss him. His lips are soft and plush, and Lan Wangji can feel him smile into it, traces the shape of it with his tongue. Unfortunately, he can also taste the alcohol on Wei Ying’s lips. He pulls back.

“You’re drunk”, he states softly.

“Yeah, but I am not like… incapacitated er-gege!”, Wei Ying protests with an adorable little scowl that reminds a lot of Jiang Cheng. A person Lan Wangji desperately doesn’t want to think about right now.

“I don’t want to deny you your own agency, but I also don’t want you to do something you will regret later, because you weren’t in full capacity of your mental faculties when making the decision.”

“Urgh, Lan Zhan!”

“What?”

“Stop being reasonable and stop using sexy grown-up words, when I just want you to kiss me again!”

Lan Zhan looks at him, assessing. He doesn’t seem that inebriated anymore. Sure, he is flushed, but the club is also insanely warm, and they just kissed. Lan Wangji feels flushed himself. His eyes drop to Wei Ying’s lips, already thinking about kissing him again. He will dream of this forever and ever and ever.

“Wei Ying”, he says, trying to communicate everything he feels with it, because he is oh so bad with words.

“Lan Zhan?”

“I’m in love with you”, Wangji says, unexpectedly even for himself and then he is being kissed again within an inch of his life.

“Baby”, Wei Ying says, when they part, “Baby, baby, my baby!”

✨ ✨ ✨

When Lan Wangji gets back home from his part time job at the library, Wei Ying is trying to burn his kitchen down. Wangji notices the smell of smoke the second he opens the apartment door, dropping his bag and his coat on the doorstep, carelessly toeing off his shoes to get to the kitchen as fast as humanly possible. Wei Ying is flitting around the room, frantically trying to salvage whatever concoction he just saved from the oven: a blackish brown, smoking lump of something.

“Wei Ying?”, Lan Wangji asks alarmed, strides into the room, and throws the window open.

“Lan Zhan! I’m sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice for you, because you always do nice things for me. And then shijie called and I forgot the oven and now everything is all burned and there is smoke everywhere and your kitchen is probably going to smell like bonfire forever, and I am so sorry. Sorry. I…”

“Wei Ying. Breathe! Are you hurt?”

“Am I hurt, he asks. No, but your kitchen is.”

“The kitchen can be replaced if needed. Wei Ying cannot.”

He puts on the oven gloves, takes the casserole dish from Wei Ying and places It on the stove top. Afterwards he kisses his boyfriend – boyfriend!!! – hello.

“Hi”, he says, “Thank you for trying to make dinner. I am not angry with you. Would you like to order something instead?”

“Lan Zhan! We can’t always order food. It’s not good for the environment. Or either of our wallets.”

“My wallet is perfectly fine, thank you.” He tugs Wei Ying closer and nuzzles the side of his beloved face.

“Still. We can’t always order food!”

“We could also cook together if you would like.”

“I would”, Wei Ying sighs, “I would like that very much. I would also like to shower.”

“Okay. Let my put my coat away and then we can check what is still in the fridge and figure out something we can make with that.”

Lan Wangji airs out the rest of the apartment while Wei Ying is under the shower. When he emerges, he smells like Wangji’s shower gel and shampoo and conditioner. They make rice and veggie stir-fry. Wei Ying minces the vegetables, Lan Wangji makes the rice and sautes whatever Wei Ying hands him. As in all other things they make a pretty good team. Which is surprising. In any other case Lan Wangji’s inner kitchen tyrant would’ve already reared its ugly head.

“Can you pass me the salt?”, he asks, and Wei Ying complies.

“Thank you, baby”, he says, because he can say things like that now. Because they are together. It still feels surreal. Wei Ying gives an undignified squeak and almost drops the spatula he is holding.

“You can’t call me that gege!”, he whisper yells with eyes wide open.

“What? Baby?”, Lan Wangji wants to know, one eyebrow raised. He turns away from the stove to cage Wei Ying in against the opposite counter, to tease him a little more.

“Baby”, he whispers, “Baobei. Sweetheart. Angel.”

“Urgh! Ahhh cringe. Lan Zhan! Is that what I sound like? And you let me run around calling you all these embarrassing things! How could you Lan Zhan? Have you no mercy?”

“Not embarrassing”, he answers and after a minute of contemplation adds, “Also no mercy for you.”

“You are an evil, evil man!”

“Mn”, Lan Wangji answers and smiles, “You like it.” Wei Ying gives another squeak.

“Baby”, Lan Wangji says again and is rewarded with a crushing kiss.

They almost burn the food again.