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To say Wei Ying was panicking would be an understatement. He was actively losing his mind.
Lan Wangji had asked him out on a date.
Okay, not a date, because there was absolutely no way Lan Wangji was gay. Obviously. Completely straight man behavior to invite Wei Ying to a soccer game and insist they sit together. Right next to each other. For several uninterrupted hours.
Very heterosexual. Extremely normal.
How Lan Wangji had gotten these tickets? Wei Ying had forgotten to ask, his brain too busy screaming internally at the idea of Lan Zhan willingly choosing to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him for the entire game. The whole game! Every minute! Lan Wangji wanted this!
Terrifying.
…
“What do I weeeeear,” Wei Ying wailed into the camera, dramatically draped across his bed like a dying Victorian child.
Nie Huaisang didn’t even look up from his computer. “The pants. The ones that make your ass look good.”
“But it’s not a date!” Wei Ying protested. “Wouldn’t that be too much?”
“Not a date?” Nie Huaisang finally glanced over, unimpressed. “Wei Ying. Please. If this walks like a date and pays for your food like a date—”
“It’s not!” Wei Ying screeched. “Lan Zhan is not gay!”
“Sure,” Nie Huaisang said calmly, “and I’m not in love with your brother.”
“Ew! Absolutely not!” Wei Ying gagged. “I do not consent to that information.”
Nie Huaisang had been aggressively flirting with Jiang Cheng for months now, but the man had the emotional awareness of a brick, so progress was slow.
“Whatever. Put the fucking jeans on.” Nie Huaisang paused, then lit up. “Oh! What are you gonna do if you end up on the kiss cam?”
“The what cam?”
“You know. When the camera zooms in on couples and makes them kiss.”
“They WHAT?” Wei Ying shrieked. “Nie Huaisang, why would you save this information for now?! What if they put us on the kiss cam?! I can’t just kiss Lan Zhan—he’d hate me forever! He’d disown me spiritually! Nie Huaisang, what do I DOOO?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never know anything, you sneaky little menace.”
“I really don’t!”
Wei Ying froze. Then his eyes lit up. “Wait. I can make a sign.”
“A sign?”
“Yeah! One that explains we’re not together!”
Nie Huaisang grinned slowly. “Oh. I know exactly what that sign should say.”
…
By the time Lan Wangji picked him up, Wei Ying had downgraded from panic attack to low-level vibrating anxiety, which was basically calm for him.
They went out to eat first—which was not a date. Even though Lan Zhan paid. Again. But he always did that. Ever since Wei Ying had been kicked out of the Jiang sect and finances were… rough, Lan Zhan had stubbornly insisted on paying for at least one of Wei Ying’s meals a week. No amount of arguing had changed his mind.
And yes, Lan Wangji looked unfairly good tonight. Clean lines, fitted jacket, stupidly broad shoulders. But he always looked like that. Tragically beautiful was just his default setting.
Except today Wei Ying was acutely aware of it. Painfully aware. Dangerously aware.
Which was fine. Totally fine. Because this was definitely not the day Wei Ying was considering confessing and then immediately pretending it was a joke if things went badly.
Annnyyywayyyys
Wei Ying was definitely not freaking out about the fact that Lan Zhan’s shoulder was pressed firmly against his, the stadium seats apparently designed for ants. He was cool as a cucumber.
A large, thick cucumber.
Like Lan Zhan is.
So big and—
Nope. Abort thought. Abort.
Wei Ying sucked in a breath and glanced at Lan Zhan, only to find him already looking back.
“Are you okay?” Lan Zhan asked quietly.
“Yep! So good. So cool. The coolest cucumber.” Wei Ying squeaked, face turning red.
“Mm.” Lan Zhan nodded, lips twitching just slightly, and turned back to the game.
Wei Ying needed help. Or alcohol. Or both.
…
The kiss cam hit them like a fucking meteor.
Wei Ying barely had time to register the giant screen before panic mode engaged. He lunged for his poster and held it up with both hands, face burning as the words flashed across the stadium.
WOULD, BUT HE’S STRAIGHT
The crowd lost it.
Wei Ying laughed nervously and tried to peek at Lan Zhan’s reaction when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see a man crouched behind him, smiling.
“I’ll kiss you,” the guy offered.
Wei Ying opened his mouth to laugh it off—
—and then someone grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back.
Warm. Firm. Mouth.
Wei Ying made a very undignified noise into the kiss.
The kiss.
The kiss from Lan Wangji.
Holy crap, Lan Zhan was kissing him
Deep. Confident. Absolutely disrespectful.
Holy shit.
Lan Zhan’s hand was solid at his waist, grounding him as Wei Ying melted, brain completely short-circuiting. Was that tongue? When did Lan Wangji learn how to do that? Who authorized this?!
Lan Zhan pulled back just long enough to glare murderously at the man behind them, who immediately decided he had somewhere else to be.
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying breathed, entire body on fire.
Lan Zhan glanced at him, smirked—smirked—and turned back to the screen like he hadn’t just ruined Wei Ying’s life.
Wei Ying let out a tiny, broken noise and collapsed against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “Lan ZHAAAN,” he whined. “You can’t just do that to me!”
Lan Zhan’s hand came up, gentle now, fingers stroking through Wei Ying’s hair. When Wei Ying tilted his head up, he finally saw it—no confusion, no hesitation.
Just love. Open and undeniable.
Wei Ying smiled, dizzy and glowing, and thought:
Yeah. Definitely not a date.