Work Text:
The sound of a snuffling giggle breaks Lan Wangji from his deep slumber. He shifts slightly, the giggle quiets and Lan Wangji huffs; Wei Ying must have bitten one of his tails in attempts to muffle himself. Lan Wangji cracks an eye open and finds almost exactly that. Wei Ying, in all his huli jing glory, curled up a scant few feet away from Lan Wangji’s face with three of his tails shoved into his maw as his eyes sparkle with barely contained mischief and glee.
Lan Wangji blinks slowly, acknowledging his longest and dearest friend’s presence.
Wei Ying spits his tails out and grins widely at him. “Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying hops side to side, filled with energy. “I found something for you!” He shakes and stretches, and then suddenly his fox form is no longer there, and the human visage of Wei Ying is sprawled out before him; his robes are loose around him, showing a frankly indecent amount of his chest, as he leans back on a hand and meets Lan Wangji’s gaze.
Lan Wangji lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes to compose himself to keep from pouncing on his best friend. He must rein in his desire or risk ruining everything. After a beat, he exhales and lets his magic stretch and swirl around him, shrinking him down from his draconic form to his human guise. He brushes his hands over his robes and hair, making sure everything is in place. When he opens his eyes again, there’s something soft in the way Wei Ying is looking at him, but he is not sure what it might mean. As long as he has known the huli jing, he has never quite been able to fully get a read on him. Perhaps it is the nature of fox spirits, or perhaps it is merely Lan Wangji’s own failings—he is not known for his skills with reading people, after all.
He grazes his fingers over his forehead ribbon as he sits across from Wei Ying. “What have you brought me this time, Wei Ying?” he asks, fondness seeping into his tone.
With a grin, Wei Ying reaches into his robes and pulls out something wrapped in hempen cloths. He scoots forward so their legs are nearly touching as he holds the bundle in his hands between them. Lan Zhan looks at it with curiosity. Typically, Wei Ying brings him rocks, gems, and various trinkets he finds on his adventures—For Lan Zhan to add to his horde, he will say with a laugh—but he doesn’t wrap those. Lan Wangji finds himself leaning slightly closer, drawn in with his interest.
“I found a Fate Weaver when I was passing through Yiling to come here. She was passing through the opposite way.”
Lan Wangji blinks in surprise. Fate Weavers are a difficult folk to track down; that Wei Ying managed to stumble upon one means it was no mere coincidence.
“She took one look at me and frowned before calling me over to share tea with her,” Wei Ying continues, laughing lightly. “We chatted for a bit, then she brought this out”—he lets the hempen cloth fall away to reveal a gleaming red gem that seems to glow from within, Lan Wangji finds himself entranced with the beauty of it—“and told me to bring it to… uh… well, to you.” Wei Ying finishes, uncharacteristically awkward. When Lan Wangji shifts his attention to his face, he finds Wei Ying blushing.
“To me?” Lan Wangji questions.
“Well… She didn’t specifically say your name or anything,” Wei Ying replies quietly.
Lan Wangji studies his face. “What did she say, exactly?”
“Ah. She told me to bring it to the one my heart longs for.”
A gasp escapes Lan Wangji before he can stop it as his eyes widen. “You…” He does not know how he was planning to finish that sentence. His mind is somehow racing while being simultaneously annoyingly blank, a feat only Wei Ying has ever managed to achieve in him.
Wei Ying shifts and his blush deepens. “Aiya, Lan Zhan. You truly did not know?” Stunned, Lan Wangji shakes his head. Wei Ying huffs. “Well then, now you do know, yeah?”
Lan Wangji nods and forces himself to speak. “Evidently. Wei Ying, I—” He is cut off when Wei Ying raises a hand.
“There’s more to what the Fate Weaver said.”
“Alright…”
Wei Ying takes a deep breath. “Right. Well, she handed me this, told me to bring it to you, and said, ‘If fate be true, as I know it to be, when you and your heart’s desire place your hands upon this stone, you shall see that you are bound together by the cosmos eternal.’”
Processing those words, Lan Wangji finds his eyes widening further. “You mean to say we are soulmates?”
With a shrug, feigning at a nonchalance that Wei Ying clearly does not feel, he replies, “So it would seem.”
Lan Wangji’s breath hitches in his throat. To think, Wei Ying might truly be eternally bound to him; it’s more than he ever dared wish for. For as long as he has known the huli jing, Lan Wangji has dreamed of letting him know of his feelings, dreaming of a life where he and Wei Ying were best friends and lovers. He never dared allow his dreams to go further, as that had already seemed far-fetched to him. His hand reaches out, but he freezes it above the stone and looks at Wei Ying seriously. “Wei Ying, no matter what, I need you to know that you are the one my heart desires above all else. You are my everything, whether we are soulmates or not.”
Wei Ying shudders, eyes molten. “Oh.”
With a nod, Lan Wangji places his hand upon the gem, and Wei Ying follows suit. Instantly, the gem flares bright, and a burst of red magic surrounds them, glittering and swirling. Through the cloud of magic, a string forms, linking their hands.
Neither of them can find it within themselves to look anywhere but at each other. Wei Ying laughs, bright and giddy, and Lan Wangji finds that he, too, cannot contain the overwhelming joy he feels, and he laughs too. Wei Ying looks at him with so much adoration that his chest aches with it. “I love you, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying smiles sappily, wide and adoring.
Then, suddenly, they are both leaning in, lips meeting in a tentative kiss. It ignites something deep in his draconic soul—a desire that burns fierce and hot—and he presses into the kiss to deepen it. Wei Ying moans against his lips, mouth parting slightly, and Lan Wangji slides his tongue against his lips. The kiss quickly devolves into something almost animalistic—hungry.
Eventually, they part to catch their breath, not straying far. Their foreheads rest together, and Lan Wangji relishes that touch; Wei Ying’s forehead is pressed against Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon.
“I love you, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers, the words ghosting against his mouth. “So much.”
Lan Wangji kisses him again, chaste and loving. “So much,” he repeats.