Work Text:
Wei Wuxian should have been asleep. The night was soft around them, the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to the sheets of the jingshi. Lan Wangji's breathing was slow and even, a perfect rhythm that usually pulled Wei Wuxian under like a gentle tide. But tonight, his mind was a busy little bee, buzzing from one sweet thought to the next.
He turned his head on the pillow. Moonlight traced the edge of Lan Wangji's profile, the proud line of his nose, the soft curve of his closed lips. A warm, fizzy feeling spread through Wei Wuxian's chest.
He started counting.
1. The way Lan Wangji says his name. Not "Wei Ying" like a question, not "Wei Wuxian" like a scold. Just "Wei Ying." Like it is the only answer he has ever needed.
2. His ears. How they turn a delicate, telltale pink when Wei Wuxian whispers something silly against them in public. Lan Wangji's face might stay carved from jade, but his ears are helpless little traitors, and Wei Wuxian loves them.
3. The small frown Lan Wangji gets when he is pouring tea. He concentrates on it like it is a sacred sword form, his brow barely creased, his lips pressed together with solemn purpose. It is the cutest thing Wei Wuxian has ever seen, and he has seen baby bunnies.
4. How Lan Wangji steals the last piece of spicy tofu. He will never ask for it. He will sit there, utterly still, radiating "I want that" until Wei Wuxian laughs and feeds it to him. Then he chews with the same serious expression as pouring tea, and Wei Wuxian has to kiss his sticky mouth immediately.
5. The noise he makes when he is sleepy. Not words. Just a low, soft "mm" that vibrates through his chest and into Wei Wuxian's back when they are spooned together. It is the sound of safety.
6. His hands. Everyone sees warrior's hands. Wei Wuxian sees hands that brush tangles from his hair after a nightmare, that tuck blankets around his shoulders, that hold a rabbit like it is made of spun glass.
7. The way Lan Wangji hates lying. He will not say "I am fine" when he is not. He will simply go quiet. And then Wei Wuxian gets to coax the truth out of him, kiss by kiss, until Lan Wangji admits he wants more soup or that his brother was short with him. It makes Wei Wuxian feel trusted.
8. His laugh. It is rare. It is quiet. It is mostly just a sharp exhale through his nose and the tiniest curl of his lip. But it is Wei Wuxian's favorite song. He will do anything to hear it. Anything.
9. The fact that Lan Wangji still keeps the Emperor's Smile stash a secret. Wei Wuxian knows exactly where it is. Has known for years. But Lan Wangji thinks he is being sneaky, hiding the jars under a floorboard in the cold pantry, and Wei Wuxian will never, ever tell him otherwise. It is too adorable.
10. How he holds Wei Wuxian after a long day. Not tightly. Not desperately. Just... completely. Like Wei Wuxian is the last puzzle piece that finally makes the world make sense. He tucks his chin over Wei Wuxian's crown and breathes in slow, and Wei Wuxian can feel every wall he ever built melt into nothing.
Wei Wuxian smiled, his heart so full it ached. He had reached ten. A perfect, lucky number. He shifted closer, pressing his nose against Lan Wangji's neck.
And then Lan Wangji spoke.
"I love you."
The words were not loud. They were barely a whisper, rough with sleep. Lan Wangji's eyes were still closed. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he had no idea he had said it.
But Wei Wuxian stopped breathing.
"I love the way you put your cold feet on my calves," Lan Wangji continued, his voice a low, drowsy murmur. "And I love how you hum when you think no one is listening. And I love the spot behind your left ear that makes you shiver."
Wei Wuxian's eyes went wide. Lan Wangji's hand came up, slow and blind, and found his face. A thumb brushed his cheekbone.
"I love that you count things," Lan Wangji whispered. "I was not asleep. I heard you. One through ten."
Wei Wuxian made a sound, a wet little laugh that caught in his throat. "Lan Zhan..."
Lan Wangji pulled him close, strong arms banding around his waist, and rolled them both so Wei Wuxian was tucked against his chest. He pressed a kiss to Wei Wuxian's forehead, then another to the tip of his nose, then one more, very soft, to the corner of his smiling mouth.
"Eleven," Lan Wangji said against his lips. "I love that you are still here."
Wei Wuxian buried his face in the warm hollow of Lan Wangji's throat. He wrapped his own arms around him, legs tangling, and let himself be held. The jingshi was quiet. The moonlight was silver. And Lan Wangji's heartbeat was the only number Wei Wuxian ever needed to know.
"Twelve," Wei Wuxian mumbled into his skin, sniffling just a little. "I love your stupid perfect everything. Now go back to sleep so I can count more things in the morning."
A huff of warm air stirred Wei Wuxian's hair. Lan Wangji's laugh. Number eight.
And then they slept, tangled together like two halves of one whole, and Wei Wuxian did not count a single thing more.