[It's the day that they begin their week-long visit to the Cloud Recesses. "They" being just himself and A-Yuan, and while the other Wens were very justifiably concerned about this, Wei Wuxian used his new status with Lan Zhan to reassure them that all would be fine.
Surely no one would attempt to harm Hanguang-jun's husband, even if he's the Yiling Patriarch!
(And if things came down to it, Wei Wuxian would physically step in front of Wen Yuan and take a blow for him.)
This time, to keep the boy from wandering off and getting lost at the foot of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian has perched him on his hip even if he's getting a bit too old to be carried and Wei Wuxian's body isn't the strongest anymore. But for Yuan, he can persevere, even if the child is wiggly in his excitement at seeing his "Rich-gege" again (his A-die! Wei Wuxian corrects him with) and showing off the little white-and-black outfit that his less rich parent has managed to scrounge up for him.
Wei Wuxian hasn't forgotten to wear the robes Lan Zhan had given him too, though they're underneath his usual black and red to keep them from being soiled by the elements.]
There he is! [He bounces Yuan once, and sets the child down.] Go on, you little monster, say hi to your Rich-gege.
( The little monster in question is an embarrassment of enthusiasm, at the age of long and lean limbs, of thudding feet. He chases down Lan Wangji, who kneels down to give him welcome, arms out and waiting.
Behind him, Wei Ying is a contained storm, unreasonably pretty for all he's a specter of hunger, of violence, of yearning. The sentinels at the gate checked thrice with Hanguang-Jun, then once again with the sect leader, before giving him passage. For righteous cause: the Yiling Patriarch is a force to be reckoned with, not reasoned, and he reeks, even now, of the energy antithetical to Cloud Recesses' design.
The path to Lan Wangji's residence is neither winding, nor cold, yet so few cross it. Wei Ying is watched, from doors and windows, as he cuts his way through, and it is unreasonable, Lan Wangji supposes, unwelcoming and cruel, that not one of the people who once shared his battlefield should jump ahead to greet him.
No matter. A tentative, tenuous peace. At least he is allowed in. )
You are welcome. ( And Lan Wangji's arms round around the child who leans in to whisper his countless travel secrets. ) Yes, the rabbits persist. Yes, you may see them. Yes, we have rice.
[At least Yuan is still in high spirits despite the travel and the long wait for disciples to convey news back and forth, and then escort them to where they need to be. And the child certainly never noticed the tight expressions, the hands on swords and in sleeves, ready to pull out talismans.
Fighting inside the Cloud Recesses is prohibited. He's so glad for this rule.
For his part, Wei Wuxian keeps his movements casual, almost languid. He has no intention of drawing Chenqing, and so his hands stay where they are.]
A-Yuan, A-Yuan, leave some for me! If you cling like that, Lan Zhan might deflate like that stuffed toy you accidentally slept on.
( He will not deflate. He will hardly move, barely shifting incredulously when Yuan barrels, as if he intends to make his first martial claim of this helpless Lan heir, who gives him his welcome.
To end the war, Lan Wangji slips to one knee, drawing the child to his chest and rising to carry him flawlessly over the threshold, as he waves Wei Ying over alongside him. His residence, never a palace, is cleansed, heated. Braziers crackle in full defiance of the Gusu Lan chills, several additional covers and a spare child-like bed brought in for Yuan's comfort. )
Assumed he is accustomed to sleep beside you. ( A simple introduction, so that Wei Ying spares him the inevitable gasp that, ah, Hanguang-Jun has already spoiled the child, and how will Wei Ying muster the bravery to attend him in the future? )
( There's a moment's draining pause when Lan Wangji suspects Wei Ying does not anticipate his reaction — when he gazes, owlish and long, and sees not just the man, but his hurts, the throne of his disappointments.
This child should not have lived through such hardships. He should not have suffered so. And this man, who cares more for his welfare than he ever did his own, who sacrifices with impunity —
One of Lan Wangji's hands is occupied with Yuan, who gazes each way, pointing out the banalities of a home of some means, however noble, however austere. The other reaches out calmly for Wei Ying. )
But Lan Zhan, we're married now! Are we not meant to share?
[That immediate comment, coupled with the way he slips his hand into Lan Zhan's without thinking, was not supposed to be. He had promised to himself that he wouldn't tease Lan Zhan so much the way he did on the day they married because of the way he feels he cajoled the man into marriage before he was even ready to take Wei Wuxian as his spouse.
At the same time... he was assuming that they'd share a bed.]
( A truth, pulled away from him, like teeth. Painstakingly extracted. He pauses only long enough to descend Yuan on his own agglomeration of blankets and silken sheets, where he balls up, pleased, to inhale the scent of fresh laundering.
Lan Wangji considers, briefly, to sink at his side and stroke his hair, but restrains himself at the last moment. How often does Yuan enjoy something only his own? Let him have this, while Lan Wangji looks on, heart molten — before recalling his second guest with a nod where two pillows crowd his one bed. )
We may share. ( A beat, then carefully: ) Or I take the floor.
( There is no world in which a guest of the house exiles himself to the cold, winter-tattered surface. )
Ah? How can I make my husband take the floor in his own home? [Wei Wuxian leans against Lan Zhan's shoulder.
In another life, he would have been ecstatic to see the inside of the home of the Second Jade of Lan, moreso when he's invited in. But he has to temper himself, or else Lan Zhan might not like it, might force himself to do something just to keep Wei Wuxian happy.]
Lan Zhan... do you want to share a bed with me, yes or no?
[A sincere question, a look of trepidation on his face.]
( In the end, they dally, their needling, their prickling, their bites simmering to peaceful, mitigated co-existence. Lan Wangji asks few questions: what a-Yuan requests, he secures. What Wei Ying's gaze courts, in kind. They spend their first whole day orbiting the staples of Cloud Recesses, reacquainting its new entrant and briefly hosted errant son to the places of feeding, cleansing, education and meditation. After, a-Yuan enjoys watching the light training of elder disciples.
And, by midday, the favored activity: introducing the child into the horde of fellow infants swarming a classroom, shepherded in during the wimter chill. They delight him: his exotic features, his accent, the scant few tells of another province. And does he know new games? He must know new games.
In the end, Lan Wangji and Wei Ying are stranded by the doorway, peering in as the ducklings rearrange their world order, in a storm of play formations their minder valiantly tries to propose should only be assumed after the day's lesson. And Lan Wangji murmurs, aside: )
[Wei Wuxian feels good after a night's sleep, for once in a long time. Perhaps sleeping next to someone who is safe helped. Of course, Cloud Recesses is safe, but he never had this deep of sleep even in the past when he was a guest disciple. Safe, with his husband, content with their well-fed child. Everything else is secondary, even if he did enjoy the day carrying A-Yuan on his hip. Even if the meditation does nothing for him, because gathering qi is pointless when there's nothing to store it in.
Still, safe, happy. He's simple in that regard.
He grins at his husband's soft comment.]
And should concede now, really. Children do what they want to do, and should be allowed to as long as they're watched properly. [Honestly, what kind of harm would a group of tiny children who have just learned how to properly hold their chopsticks get up to? At most a fight would probably be something like patting each other on the face, and that's not likely to end in tears because their hands are still soft and pudgy.]
Look at them! They're so cute! Who would say no to those little faces?
[Except for Wei Wuxian who has no money purse, that is.]
( ...Uncle, and gladly. He knows, as they both know, that Lan Qiren would never shy from disciplining the young and the unwilling. Lan Wangji and Zewu-Jun have seldom tested his tolerance, but it runs perhaps thinner than might be otherwise presumed.
Still, he is not present here. Even he knows better than to intervene with and against small children. If anything, they are given a great, wide berth, permitted to go about their business of minimal education and maximal entertainment. No matter. Life is long enough to relinquish leisure.
As Wei Ying eases, Lan Wangji tips into him, falling short of immodest touch. )
Mm. No need to hover like a pair of sticky parents. [Because that way leads to them becoming tigers, and poor A-Yuan doesn't deserve that.
Wei Wuxian reaches out and tugs on Lan Zhan's sleeve.]
Let's go give ourselves a rest in your home, hm?
[Except what Wei Wuxian has planned is anything but restful. He can feel his heart beating in his ears because he's about to divulge a secret that should never be known outside of a scant few. He would have taken it to his grave. But this situation with Lan Zhan has forced his hand, what they have planned soon may crumble because of it.
And if one of Zewu-jun's stipulations is to have Wei Wuxian purified, it's sure to come out then, and he needs, needs Lan Zhan to stand in solidarity with him for whatever the fallout of that will be.]
( He corrects emptily, because Wei Ying's cooperation cannot be forced, if he feels no bond toward Lan Wangji's quarters yet. But they are his, all the same. There is a right that only the spouse of Hanguang-Jun may exercise, a private ownership.
Still, at least Wei Ying feels at ease enough to draw them to the house. Feels convincingly safe.
Lan Wangji leads the way, careful to nod to a-Yuan as they evacuate the premises, only for the boy to neglect them in favor of his fresh companions. A fine choice. No one may begrudge him.
No more than, walking side by side down the roads scantly shovelled by junior cultivators, Lan Wangji can speak against Wei Ying's strangely distant mien, as they traverse the snowy mounds. So be it. )
Will you take rest? I may call your midday meal brought.
[He tucks his hands behind has back as they walk, his overcoat thicker and heavier than his preferred one-- though Wei Wuxian imagined that people would be fleeing at the sight of it, the figure he cuts with it on, and the deep reds contrasting with the greys. Hence why he has something lighter in color, a stately grey on top of black.
He doesn't look like the Yiling Patriarch, and that's better. No one to disrupt his time with the family he's trying to grow.
Speaking of time with family...]
I don't want anyone to disturb us either.
[In any other situation, those words would be seen as salacious. But Wei Wuxian is looking straight at Lan Zhan, pleading with his eyes for his husband to go along with it.]
( ...their quarters, with no disturbance. Ah. But are they not perhaps galloping to a better-delayed inevitable? They have hardly conversed over expectations, for all Wei Ying has been generous with his affections. As for his wants, his needs, his rights -
As for the... bedplay configurations of two men who join their passions -
As for Lan Wangji's profound inexperience in such things -
...no. Wei Ying searches him with the gaze of a wounded animal, beseeching. If Lan Wangji refuses him yet again, he may yet weep. They will both despair of him. )
Is it... ( How hesitant, how small his voice. ) Not perhaps hasty?
Not hasty? Lan Zhan! [His voice is almost a whine, not a thought spared as to what exactly is on his husband's mind or why he's asking that specifically. Hence, he rambles to mask how anxious he is.
How scared he is.] It is, you know?
But I don't think there's any better time than now. I would have taken it to my grave, but... you're my husband. You should know.
I'm no good at relationships, but at the very least I remember some things that my parents did to keep them happy, and that's talking often.
[Wei Wuxian sleeps deep, but even in his slumber he tries to stay attached to Lan Zhan's side like a burr in a fox's tail. But he only manages up to a point when he can go limp and soft in sleep, and the best way to keep to his husband's heat is just to sleep on top of it.
The absence of which will wake up eventually, should Lan Zhan leave bed early and the bed cool down enough that there's no more trace of his warmth. Either way, Wei Wuxian grumbles and rubs his eyes as he wakes, blearily trying to take stock of his surroundings and what is tiny family is doing.]
Mmpf?
[Then he raises his arms, hands opening and closing as if trying to grasp the air.]
Lan Zhaaaaaan... [That's eloquent enough for him in the mornings.]
( Mao-shi comes, and the wakefulness is inevitable. He stirs, amused to find young Yuan already clumsily fumbling in his footsteps, requiring help to reach the bathing bowls. Lan Wangji walks him through it, then himself, then both through layering — grateful for the loaned winter clothes to outfit the child for the purpose of Cloud Recesses vast snow-down.
In the end, within two hours he has surrendered the child, first to the canteen for breakfast, then his minder. For all his other duties, Zewu-Jun has gladly committed to spiriting him away for lunch. And Lan Wangji can dally in the library, intent to riddle the nuances of the question before him: just how are lovers pleased?
He returns, flush-faced, armed with a few salves shamefully relieved from the clan's healer under distinctly false pretences, prepared to face his husband and prattle his discoveries — only to find Wei Ying still gloriously asleep. Left to comfort, he truly will sink in and sleep the day away.
Beside him, Lan Wangji settles by the bed, reviewing the scant few brazen materials with suggestions for the... act, inevitably between husbands and wives. He startles as Wei Ying stirs, offering out his hand to the figure collapsed in bed. )
[As he clings to Lan Zhan's hand, he notes that Yuan is gone now, likely off to his new friends that he spends his days playing with. A shame that he didn't get to have breakfast with the child, especially when he's likely going to be with Lan Xichen for the rest of the day, but there will be other times.
He hopes there will be other times that he wakes up and see his son's smile from across the room.]
( They spent, after all, far too much of the previous day assailed by nerves. Whether anticipating the elders' verdict or simply doused in their own conflict — they grew were worn down.
Now, Wei Ying seems softer, fonder, coming together again. Stitching himself back and slowly shedding the marks of his own exhaustion. Pretty creature. Perhaps fleetingly thriving. )
Your meal was brought. ( Already, helpfully held warm with the help of a talisman, bowls covered by the low table. ) Cleanse, eat. The day is yours.
Mm. [Following his nose, Wei Wuxian crawls out of bed and wobbles his way to the table laden with food, clinging to Lan Zhan as far as he's allowed. But even if his body is still waking up, his mind has sharpened quickly.]
You mean the day is ours.
[If left to his own devices, he might set something on fire with his experiments, even if they don't involve fire or heat at all. But no, has plans. He has made plans with his husband, they were mutually agreed upon. Their son will be out for the day, their little house will have only them, and there are no other demand son their persons. The day is theirs.]
( Theirs, with purpose. It feels, perhaps, a little unromantic that they have isolated and assigned an act that requires a certain degree of impulsiveness and brewing need to a specific day. As if, he cannot help but feel, some part of it is a chore.
But then, it would have been so if they entangled in consummation as grooms brokered by a sect's arrangement. Cultivators of rank seldom choose their time.
They sit, and he watches Wei Ying slowly come back to himself, taking ownership of the bowls and beginning the fine dance of filling out his husband's bowls, offering him his choice of feeding. )
The day is ours. ( An easy concession. ) Be at ease.
[Given his stomach's rumbling, Wei Wuxian doesn't decline any food his husband offers him, no matter how bland. Everything's bland to him anyway, he misses chili oil so much.]
I'm looking forward to it though, Lan Zhan. [Deliberately breaking a rule.] I've been waiting for this for so long!
[But first, he wants to eat. Amazing how much he can put away without a child distracting him.]
( If he raises his brow, incredulously, may he be forgiven. He knew he had wedded the Patriarch, but perhaps not a complete lout. To think, speaking during breakfast.
Still, he hasn't the heart to correct Wei Ying's dire transgression, past this gentle signal of that which should not be done. Shame. For shame. )
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Surely no one would attempt to harm Hanguang-jun's husband, even if he's the Yiling Patriarch!
(And if things came down to it, Wei Wuxian would physically step in front of Wen Yuan and take a blow for him.)
This time, to keep the boy from wandering off and getting lost at the foot of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian has perched him on his hip even if he's getting a bit too old to be carried and Wei Wuxian's body isn't the strongest anymore. But for Yuan, he can persevere, even if the child is wiggly in his excitement at seeing his "Rich-gege" again (his A-die! Wei Wuxian corrects him with) and showing off the little white-and-black outfit that his less rich parent has managed to scrounge up for him.
Wei Wuxian hasn't forgotten to wear the robes Lan Zhan had given him too, though they're underneath his usual black and red to keep them from being soiled by the elements.]
There he is! [He bounces Yuan once, and sets the child down.] Go on, you little monster, say hi to your Rich-gege.
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Behind him, Wei Ying is a contained storm, unreasonably pretty for all he's a specter of hunger, of violence, of yearning. The sentinels at the gate checked thrice with Hanguang-Jun, then once again with the sect leader, before giving him passage. For righteous cause: the Yiling Patriarch is a force to be reckoned with, not reasoned, and he reeks, even now, of the energy antithetical to Cloud Recesses' design.
The path to Lan Wangji's residence is neither winding, nor cold, yet so few cross it. Wei Ying is watched, from doors and windows, as he cuts his way through, and it is unreasonable, Lan Wangji supposes, unwelcoming and cruel, that not one of the people who once shared his battlefield should jump ahead to greet him.
No matter. A tentative, tenuous peace. At least he is allowed in. )
You are welcome. ( And Lan Wangji's arms round around the child who leans in to whisper his countless travel secrets. ) Yes, the rabbits persist. Yes, you may see them. Yes, we have rice.
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Fighting inside the Cloud Recesses is prohibited. He's so glad for this rule.
For his part, Wei Wuxian keeps his movements casual, almost languid. He has no intention of drawing Chenqing, and so his hands stay where they are.]
A-Yuan, A-Yuan, leave some for me! If you cling like that, Lan Zhan might deflate like that stuffed toy you accidentally slept on.
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To end the war, Lan Wangji slips to one knee, drawing the child to his chest and rising to carry him flawlessly over the threshold, as he waves Wei Ying over alongside him. His residence, never a palace, is cleansed, heated. Braziers crackle in full defiance of the Gusu Lan chills, several additional covers and a spare child-like bed brought in for Yuan's comfort. )
Assumed he is accustomed to sleep beside you. ( A simple introduction, so that Wei Ying spares him the inevitable gasp that, ah, Hanguang-Jun has already spoiled the child, and how will Wei Ying muster the bravery to attend him in the future? )
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But the thought of sleeping with his Xian-gege is part of the child's excitement, and Wei Wuxian pinches Yuan's cheek over Lan Zhan's shoulder.]
He has a warm bed in a house. I only allow him to sleep with me when I have a fire going in the cabe. [Which is rare enough, the Wens need it more.]
But we'll be plenty warm here! Look, we can bury all our A-Yuans in bedding instead of the ground now!
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This child should not have lived through such hardships. He should not have suffered so. And this man, who cares more for his welfare than he ever did his own, who sacrifices with impunity —
One of Lan Wangji's hands is occupied with Yuan, who gazes each way, pointing out the banalities of a home of some means, however noble, however austere. The other reaches out calmly for Wei Ying. )
Did not think to prepare you a bed.
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[That immediate comment, coupled with the way he slips his hand into Lan Zhan's without thinking, was not supposed to be. He had promised to himself that he wouldn't tease Lan Zhan so much the way he did on the day they married because of the way he feels he cajoled the man into marriage before he was even ready to take Wei Wuxian as his spouse.
At the same time... he was assuming that they'd share a bed.]
Why, is your bed too narrow for the both of us?
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( A truth, pulled away from him, like teeth. Painstakingly extracted. He pauses only long enough to descend Yuan on his own agglomeration of blankets and silken sheets, where he balls up, pleased, to inhale the scent of fresh laundering.
Lan Wangji considers, briefly, to sink at his side and stroke his hair, but restrains himself at the last moment. How often does Yuan enjoy something only his own? Let him have this, while Lan Wangji looks on, heart molten — before recalling his second guest with a nod where two pillows crowd his one bed. )
We may share. ( A beat, then carefully: ) Or I take the floor.
( There is no world in which a guest of the house exiles himself to the cold, winter-tattered surface. )
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In another life, he would have been ecstatic to see the inside of the home of the Second Jade of Lan, moreso when he's invited in. But he has to temper himself, or else Lan Zhan might not like it, might force himself to do something just to keep Wei Wuxian happy.]
Lan Zhan... do you want to share a bed with me, yes or no?
[A sincere question, a look of trepidation on his face.]
happy new year!
happy new year! i hope this year will be good to you
and to you, friend!
♥
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And, by midday, the favored activity: introducing the child into the horde of fellow infants swarming a classroom, shepherded in during the wimter chill. They delight him: his exotic features, his accent, the scant few tells of another province. And does he know new games? He must know new games.
In the end, Lan Wangji and Wei Ying are stranded by the doorway, peering in as the ducklings rearrange their world order, in a storm of play formations their minder valiantly tries to propose should only be assumed after the day's lesson. And Lan Wangji murmurs, aside: )
Teacher Li fights a failed battle.
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Still, safe, happy. He's simple in that regard.
He grins at his husband's soft comment.]
And should concede now, really. Children do what they want to do, and should be allowed to as long as they're watched properly. [Honestly, what kind of harm would a group of tiny children who have just learned how to properly hold their chopsticks get up to? At most a fight would probably be something like patting each other on the face, and that's not likely to end in tears because their hands are still soft and pudgy.]
Look at them! They're so cute! Who would say no to those little faces?
[Except for Wei Wuxian who has no money purse, that is.]
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Still, he is not present here. Even he knows better than to intervene with and against small children. If anything, they are given a great, wide berth, permitted to go about their business of minimal education and maximal entertainment. No matter. Life is long enough to relinquish leisure.
As Wei Ying eases, Lan Wangji tips into him, falling short of immodest touch. )
Shall we leave him to his pleasure?
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Wei Wuxian reaches out and tugs on Lan Zhan's sleeve.]
Let's go give ourselves a rest in your home, hm?
[Except what Wei Wuxian has planned is anything but restful. He can feel his heart beating in his ears because he's about to divulge a secret that should never be known outside of a scant few. He would have taken it to his grave. But this situation with Lan Zhan has forced his hand, what they have planned soon may crumble because of it.
And if one of Zewu-jun's stipulations is to have Wei Wuxian purified, it's sure to come out then, and he needs, needs Lan Zhan to stand in solidarity with him for whatever the fallout of that will be.]
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( He corrects emptily, because Wei Ying's cooperation cannot be forced, if he feels no bond toward Lan Wangji's quarters yet. But they are his, all the same. There is a right that only the spouse of Hanguang-Jun may exercise, a private ownership.
Still, at least Wei Ying feels at ease enough to draw them to the house. Feels convincingly safe.
Lan Wangji leads the way, careful to nod to a-Yuan as they evacuate the premises, only for the boy to neglect them in favor of his fresh companions. A fine choice. No one may begrudge him.
No more than, walking side by side down the roads scantly shovelled by junior cultivators, Lan Wangji can speak against Wei Ying's strangely distant mien, as they traverse the snowy mounds. So be it. )
Will you take rest? I may call your midday meal brought.
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[He tucks his hands behind has back as they walk, his overcoat thicker and heavier than his preferred one-- though Wei Wuxian imagined that people would be fleeing at the sight of it, the figure he cuts with it on, and the deep reds contrasting with the greys. Hence why he has something lighter in color, a stately grey on top of black.
He doesn't look like the Yiling Patriarch, and that's better. No one to disrupt his time with the family he's trying to grow.
Speaking of time with family...]
I don't want anyone to disturb us either.
[In any other situation, those words would be seen as salacious. But Wei Wuxian is looking straight at Lan Zhan, pleading with his eyes for his husband to go along with it.]
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As for the... bedplay configurations of two men who join their passions -
As for Lan Wangji's profound inexperience in such things -
...no. Wei Ying searches him with the gaze of a wounded animal, beseeching. If Lan Wangji refuses him yet again, he may yet weep. They will both despair of him. )
Is it... ( How hesitant, how small his voice. ) Not perhaps hasty?
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How scared he is.] It is, you know?
But I don't think there's any better time than now. I would have taken it to my grave, but... you're my husband. You should know.
I'm no good at relationships, but at the very least I remember some things that my parents did to keep them happy, and that's talking often.
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happy birthday lwj... here's drama as his bday gift
happy birthday, lan wangji!
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The absence of which will wake up eventually, should Lan Zhan leave bed early and the bed cool down enough that there's no more trace of his warmth. Either way, Wei Wuxian grumbles and rubs his eyes as he wakes, blearily trying to take stock of his surroundings and what is tiny family is doing.]
Mmpf?
[Then he raises his arms, hands opening and closing as if trying to grasp the air.]
Lan Zhaaaaaan... [That's eloquent enough for him in the mornings.]
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In the end, within two hours he has surrendered the child, first to the canteen for breakfast, then his minder. For all his other duties, Zewu-Jun has gladly committed to spiriting him away for lunch. And Lan Wangji can dally in the library, intent to riddle the nuances of the question before him: just how are lovers pleased?
He returns, flush-faced, armed with a few salves shamefully relieved from the clan's healer under distinctly false pretences, prepared to face his husband and prattle his discoveries — only to find Wei Ying still gloriously asleep. Left to comfort, he truly will sink in and sleep the day away.
Beside him, Lan Wangji settles by the bed, reviewing the scant few brazen materials with suggestions for the... act, inevitably between husbands and wives. He startles as Wei Ying stirs, offering out his hand to the figure collapsed in bed. )
Here. ( He will always be here. )
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He hopes there will be other times that he wakes up and see his son's smile from across the room.]
Did I sleep that late?
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( They spent, after all, far too much of the previous day assailed by nerves. Whether anticipating the elders' verdict or simply doused in their own conflict — they grew were worn down.
Now, Wei Ying seems softer, fonder, coming together again. Stitching himself back and slowly shedding the marks of his own exhaustion. Pretty creature. Perhaps fleetingly thriving. )
Your meal was brought. ( Already, helpfully held warm with the help of a talisman, bowls covered by the low table. ) Cleanse, eat. The day is yours.
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You mean the day is ours.
[If left to his own devices, he might set something on fire with his experiments, even if they don't involve fire or heat at all. But no, has plans. He has made plans with his husband, they were mutually agreed upon. Their son will be out for the day, their little house will have only them, and there are no other demand son their persons. The day is theirs.]
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But then, it would have been so if they entangled in consummation as grooms brokered by a sect's arrangement. Cultivators of rank seldom choose their time.
They sit, and he watches Wei Ying slowly come back to himself, taking ownership of the bowls and beginning the fine dance of filling out his husband's bowls, offering him his choice of feeding. )
The day is ours. ( An easy concession. ) Be at ease.
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I'm looking forward to it though, Lan Zhan. [Deliberately breaking a rule.] I've been waiting for this for so long!
[But first, he wants to eat. Amazing how much he can put away without a child distracting him.]
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Still, he hasn't the heart to correct Wei Ying's dire transgression, past this gentle signal of that which should not be done. Shame. For shame. )
Draw your strength. You may yet require it.
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