( His Wei Ying, lies this man with his sweet mouth. His. And how can Lan Wangji refuse him? In the end, no harm was done, and what few sensitivities were rustled can still be calmed.
As Wei Ying leans in, he welcomes him with a soft, warm hand to his — husband's cheek, calling him to his chest. Like a second, greater child, for all Lan Wangji's intent is increasingly wanting, shamefully desirous.
He wants, more fool he, to kiss this man. )
Not mine to forgive. ( Only his to have, to hold, to treasure. And to subdue, as Yuan shows fledgling starts of stirring. ) Wei Ying. May I kiss you again?
[Those, he thinks, are among the sweetest words that Lan Zhan has said to him today. Not the sweetest, because Wei Wuxian can think of so much more immediately such as the agreement of sharing a bed, but certainly among them.]
Yes. [Lan Zhan need not ask. He no longer needs to, because Wei Wuxian will always say yes, and he would rather cut out that moment in favor of getting to the good part. But he thinks he understands why Lan Zhan will do it all the same.
He stands up properly, so they're on more even footing and Lan Zhan doesn't have to bend down far just to reach him.]
( I am already here, he needn't say, because Wei Ying sees him, knows him, takes the measure of him and finds him — not wholly wanting. A creature he can deign to tolerate, to welcome close.
This time, when he dips in, the kiss isn't soft, isn't without victims or consequence. It burns, and Lan Wangji's fingers dig into the sides of Wei Ying's face, and he pushes their mouths together — hasty, perhaps clumsy, mean. They kiss, and a young moan shatters their peace, and he tips his forehead into Wei Ying's. They break apart. He kisses him again.
A slow, tidal circuit of breaks and incursions, of intimacy purposed. In the end, a-Yuan gives out the small, curious cry of a young creature finding itself gradually awake in a space he's never fully inhabited — and Lan Wangji pulls back, cheeks flushed. )
[Wei Wuxian's lips twist, biting back some teasing-- oh, so he's my son when he's in need of cuddles?, or some such. But his heart is with their son right now, the soft crying a concern when he never wants to hear A-Yuan cry for whatever reason.
But he's also not the sort of parent to smother their child's genuine expression of feelings, when he knows A-Yuan needed to not be so noisy in order to survive the camp. He's had to find a happy medium between the two.]
More kisses later, husband. [This is not a request or an expectation, but a promise. Punctuated with a brush of his thumb over Lan Zhan's lower lip, before he drops his body in an ungainly manner on the sheets right next to Yuan, startling the tears that they halt.]
Aiya, little one, what are you crying for? Want gege's hugs? Come here, come here--
[He welcomes the child climbing on top of him, rolling onto his back to make himself a more comfortable bed. This does give him a good view of what's up above, and grins at Lan Zhan as he wraps his arms around their son's tiny body.]
( More, later. As if a merchant, promising away his wares, never delivering. Barely luring Lan Wangji close and closer, moth to the flame. Wei Ying's mouth is yet plush, still inviting.
Lan Wangji nearly orbits close again —
...but then there is a-Yuan, rightfully demanding his gege's care, and Lan Wangji only steps back, abashedly, to allow the two their privacy, As they frolic in the bed, Lan Wangji sends out butterflies again, passing on his latest instructions. )
[Wei Wuxian signals he's understood Lan Zhan's message by relaying it in an obnoxious tone for Yuan's benefit, taunting him about having to bathe.
To which the child, obviously, complains about.]
No, no! No dinner for stinky little monsters here! We only serve dinner to good kids who clean themselves up. [He stands, tucking the stinky little monster under his arm like a bag of rice.]
Tell him, Lan Zhan! Surely we don't tolerate grubby imps at the dinner table in this house!
( Only, Wei Ying has asked the cavalry assistance of a man who cannot lie, and who finds himself paralyzed, wide-eyed and staring between Wei Ying and his rambunctious charge. Ah, what can he say?
Perhaps, shamefully, he must simply put himself at the mercy of vagaries. Forgive him, a-Yuan. )
We prefer cleansing before meal-time. ( There are, after all, no explicit rules regarding hygiene before partaking of the dinner dishes. ) Yuan. Cleanliness is comforting.
( ...yes, what child has not taken comfort in that? )
[Ah... Lan Zhan is so bad at being asked to do something so suddenly. He really looked like a startled rabbit for a moment.
Cute.
But Wei Wuxian got what he wanted, and he sets Yuan down to finish up the lecture about washing before dinner. And shoos the child off with the excuse of making him pick out his later outfit.
When he straightens up and Yuan digs through their meager traveling pack, he shoots Lan Zhan a smile.]
Just every day with children. Lan Zhan, if you truly want more, you'll have to get used to this kind of conversation.
( Good, somehow, with children. Some part of Lan Wangji had anticipated this, given his friends customary patience with the other disciples of Yunmeng. Once, he led and trained him. Of course he should now extend the same grace to this beautiful infant, clinging obediently to his silks.
Even Lan Wangji, nearly a stranger, has found himself shamefully requesting additional luxuries alongside dinner. When it is inevitably brought, by disciples who know better than to stare but cannot help exchanging glances, the meal encompasses more than the habitual three bowls per person — by several degrees. Alongside Lan fare, they have sneaked in a thick stew in the style of Caiyi, which the kitchen only produces on explicit request, for hosted guests.
These goods find their way to Lan Wangji's small table, and buckets of heated bathing water and a tub follow shortly after. An entire battalion of youthful Lan, all bowing expediently and excusing themselves, their task met.
[Knowing that once he's seen and smelled food, Yuan will be focused on just that unless he's playing at the moment, Wei Wuxian assists him through the washing process. He spares a kiss on Lan Zhan's cheek for the cute comment about Wei Wuxian'smother hen tendencies, and whisks their child off towards the tub and the water.
Minutes later, Yuan is clean, skin a little flushed from the scrubbing, and dressed in clean greys, charging through the house to finally partake in the meal. Wei Wuxian follows behind him, hair damp in places and his overcoat left behind.
He sits heavily at the little table with an oof.]
My motherly duty is done! Now he's your son, Lan Zhan.
( His son. The lone he may hope for, if he has wedded. Unlike Wei Ying, he cannot cast a side a spouse, once humor and enthusiasm have both worn down. He will remain at the mercy of this single arrangement.
One offspring, still: he will make the most of it. There is no beginning, no end to Lan Wangji's affection. He may wash them all over this single child, who watches him unwaveringly, who tugs his sleeve and draws him, too, toward the low table. At least here, slipping down, he can try to curry favor with a-Yuan, starting to gently reveal each dish and pour down spoonfuls of it in his bowl.
He may test out each flavor. )
Sit with us. ( This to Wei Ying, unfailingly. ) He will not feed, if you do not.
Aiya, all right. Have mercy, wrangling a naughty radish patch child is tiring.
[Despite his grousing, he sits readily on a side adjacent to Lan Zhan, mirroring their placement on the day they married.
Ah... family dinner. At the very least, he has had this in the Burial Grounds when they had the resources to spare. They're just missing Uncle Four's wine-- but Lan Zhan is right next to him, Lans are forbidden alcohol.
Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. This is the first family dinner he has with the man, his husband no less.
The thought still makes him giddy.
As Lan Zhan busies himself with Yuan's bowl, Wei Wuxian piles food into Lan Zhan's, rice then vegetables, taking care to skirt around the meat, and tries to arrange them in a manner pleasing to the eye.]
( Family dinner, certainly. At least, between the additional servings and his own scant appetite, Lan Wangji can afford to be generous, pouring further morsels before a-Yuan for his tender consideration.
Now and then, he offers out a few pieces to Wei Ying, also, interested in keeping both of his charges sated. Truly, they deserve no less, and neither has had the opportunity to enjoy much care or consideration
In the end, they have fed each other, and their — son has benefitted from the largesse of both caretakers. As he should. Lan Wangji cannot begin to eat and still converse, therefore delaying his meal. )
Yes, husband. [Though Wei Wuxian can't yet, not until he sees Yuan begin to eat for himself. His hold on the chopsticks is clumsy, but his hands are still small, he'll grow into the proper form with time. Only when Yuan has managed to feed himself successfully three times does Wei Wuxian pick up his own chopsticks and accept what Lan Wangji is offering him.
Rice first, even if his stomach is demanding the stew. He knows what would happen if he took too much at once. Yuan got all of his food during the trip, so he will be fine.]
( His turn, certainly. Only, Wei Ying gently forgets the law of the land, however primitive and antiquated he might consider it. And so, tenderly, barely presuming to bring it to attention, tapping the table with his chopsticks — )
We do not speak whilst eating. ( If he begins now, while Wei Ying still plans to inevitably interrogate him, he will be unable to set down his chopsticks until he has finalised his meal. Better than they should take turns, and for Lan Wangji to attend his needs once Wei Ying takes his bath. )
Our habit, not Wei Ying's. ( He may continue, after all, as is. )
[Wei Wuxian makes faces at Lan Zhan when he mentions the rule about not eating, and then at Yuan, who giggles with chopsticks in his mouth, but also doesn't speak. At the very least, Wei Wuxian is not breaking the rule, simply brushing against it like a cat wondering if it should scratch this post today or spare it the claws.
Perhaps he would have used his claws if the rule was enforced on him. Perhaps not.
(He wouldn't have, not with Yuan here needing good role models.)
But after the meal? His mouth starts running again.]
Aiya, Lan Zhan! [He drops onto his back again, which gives their son the opportunity to climb on top of him once more.] I never thought I would be adhering to that rule again, and in the Cloud Recesses too! Who would have thought I'd ever come back here after leaving?
["Leaving", like he hadn't been expelled for fighting like the unruly student that he is.]
I did. ( ...he speaks too rapidly, too forthrightly. They should both know Wei Ying can't help his speculation, his small fictions, his dreams. Lan Wangji should not rise to the occasion of entertaining his questions.
He'll hurt first. He'll hurt worse. He'll never be permitted to forget the day when he showed Wei Ying his underbelly.
And yet, freshly fed and warmed by the blissful sight of Wei Ying accosted by a small child who wants to give him nothing but kindness, not even Lan Wangji could help himself. )
Wei Ying would always be invited as my guest. ( In the end, surely even Hanguang-Jun deserves some manner of privilege for winning a war. )
[Yuan is pawing at his face and shoulders in that way he does when he wants to find a comfortable position to lie down in, and Wei Wuxian might as well get him to be comfortable enough to sleep early, even if it isn't even hai hour. But he is barely three, and still a baby who needs sleep.
He sits up, tucking Yuan against his chest, little face under his chin as he wipes the last debris of Yuan's meal from his cheeks. It's good for him to be here, even if they're surrounded by a bunch of no-fun fuddy-duddies. Maybe he can wrangle someone into keeping Yuan, maybe Lan Zhan. They've been joking about how the man is Yuan's other father already, but perhaps he should be in truth.]
Ah, Lan Zhan. [His sweet Lan Zhan, too idealistic.
Kind of Lan Zhan to say that Wei Wuxian is allowed in as a guest any time, but he doesn't think the same. He thinks that the tolerance of the Lans only stretch so far, and the next time he comes, he won't be greeted by his husband, but by swords and potential death.]
You want me to keep coming back, do you? Planning our next meeting before we even properly begin this one?
( And duties and privileges. It is known, for all the clan would thoroughly dispute the legitimacy of the choice of a man, who cannot deliver an heir, and of Wei Wuxian, who cannot abide by the principles of the righteous path.
All the same, Lan Wangji is not their only hope for descendants. Zewu-Jun remains active, attentive, strong. Even if Hanguang-Jun has erred with his interests, as far as the collective Lan eye can see, his brother remains pristine and holy.
Let Lan Xichen bear the brunt of their expectations. Selfishly, Lan Wangji can nearly join that thought.
Instead, his gaze droops, his hands knot behind his back, and he looks about with clear intent — anywhere but before himself. )
Wei Wuxian blinks once, twice to get the tears out of his eyes so he doesn't cry in front of Lan Zhan. Look at him! He's gotten so pathetic in the past months, worn down from poverty and desperation (and the resentment he plays with so much. but he will never admit that). Just... the care in which Lan Zhan is giving him, the insistence that he must have the same privileges as his own husband despite being a wanted criminal...
He shouldn't stick around, because even if his social standing is much stronger now, Lan Zhan's is sure to fall anyway. The lesser spouse gets elevated thanks to the marriage, but he doubts the same will be true of theirs when the Yiling Patriarch is involved. Not with the jianghu out for his blood.
But he can't leave. Lan Zhan is here, and he is everything.
Wei Wuxian stands, and offers him Yuan, a symbol of the response he can't give out loud, and all the things he can't say-- yet.]
( Too good to him, when the world is too cruel. Perhaps he offsets some of that malice, and there is balance to be struck, a final equilibrium.
The child is proffered onto him, a beautiful gift he cannot refuse, arms ready. He takes him, slow and far too careful, but learning as Wei Ying entrusts him. In the end, no man is born knowing how to handle children, and many father them. He, too, can decipher this.
On his chest, Yuan is a friendly weight, finding his own peace, cooing criticism that Lan Wangji's silks are too slippery and soft, while his small fists fail to gain purchase. Yes, yes. The world is unkind to young Yuan, personally. )
[Reward, he says, when Wei Wuxian is a man with nothing and is able to give nothing because he's wrung dry, and whatever remains is fed to Yuan in the hopes that he would grow up better than him and the other Wens, in a better place.
And here Lan Zhan is, only asking for him to just enjoy time in this small space he's dug out for them, away from the politics and the death, the swords that want him and his dependents dead. This is all he wants. Even for everything else he'd demanded from Wei Wuxian previously, he can't help but take his husband at face value right now.
Oh, Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian cups his cheek, strokes it with a thumb. He loves this man as a friend, a soulmate and his perfect match, but Wei Wuxian knows he could come to see him the way a wife sees a husband, if given time in this relationship.
He wants to say all of it, but perhaps that would come out too sappy, and he refrains.]
I'll start now. Mind our son while I bathe? [The water has lessened and surely cooled down by now, but he'll accept even something freezing cold as long as it's clean.]
( Mind... the child, who has seldom glimpsed him, who knows little of Lan Wangji past his touch, his warmth, his scent. Young Yuan has scant reason to trust him, less to melt in his arms — yet he does, with that strange proclivity of children, the ease for and fascination with trust.
They fit together, Lan Wangji half holding, half cradling him. Sharing his warmth, taking in his scent. Strange, how time gallops as he walks the child, as moments blink and trail together.
How he waits, gently, until Lan Yuan's breathing calms, and finally Wei Ying appears on the horizon. )
He sleeps. ( He sounds incredulous, to his own ear. )
[A bath, even a quick one in tepid water, never fails to rejuvenate him-- it must be the Yunmeng boy in him. Bathing feels good, and he scrubs until his skin is flushed, coloring in a way it hasn't been since he was first thrown into the Burial Mounds and was forced to live in a cave.
He steps out already dressed in his sleepclothes, hair unbound and curling slightly at the ends. At the sight of Lan Zhan holding A-Yuan, bewilderment all over his face, he has to smile, and leans against his husband's side.]
As with his proclivity for hugging legs, he is quite comfortable with people he likes.
( Comfortable, yes. Exceedingly so. Even Lan Wangji, unlikely beneficiary of a-Yuan's attentions, knows better than to bring up how undeserving he is of the feat. Still, he eases in, whispering kisses on the boy's forehead, casting glances each side after each, as if petrified that the world might see him at his work. That it might stop him.
Then, Wei Ying is close, too close, and Lan Wangji takes a step back, then another, having found the clear contender for a-Yuan's attentions — and unwilling to surrender his charge. Let Wei Ying fight nobly for this rarely shared privilege. Lan Wangji will not surrender it of his own accord. )
You may oil your hair and balm your skin. ( In other words, Wei Ying may distract himself, while Lan Wangji shamelessly takes advantage of Yuan's warmth. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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As Wei Ying leans in, he welcomes him with a soft, warm hand to his — husband's cheek, calling him to his chest. Like a second, greater child, for all Lan Wangji's intent is increasingly wanting, shamefully desirous.
He wants, more fool he, to kiss this man. )
Not mine to forgive. ( Only his to have, to hold, to treasure. And to subdue, as Yuan shows fledgling starts of stirring. ) Wei Ying. May I kiss you again?
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Yes. [Lan Zhan need not ask. He no longer needs to, because Wei Wuxian will always say yes, and he would rather cut out that moment in favor of getting to the good part. But he thinks he understands why Lan Zhan will do it all the same.
He stands up properly, so they're on more even footing and Lan Zhan doesn't have to bend down far just to reach him.]
Come here, husband, and kiss me.
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This time, when he dips in, the kiss isn't soft, isn't without victims or consequence. It burns, and Lan Wangji's fingers dig into the sides of Wei Ying's face, and he pushes their mouths together — hasty, perhaps clumsy, mean. They kiss, and a young moan shatters their peace, and he tips his forehead into Wei Ying's. They break apart. He kisses him again.
A slow, tidal circuit of breaks and incursions, of intimacy purposed. In the end, a-Yuan gives out the small, curious cry of a young creature finding itself gradually awake in a space he's never fully inhabited — and Lan Wangji pulls back, cheeks flushed. )
...your son wants you.
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But he's also not the sort of parent to smother their child's genuine expression of feelings, when he knows A-Yuan needed to not be so noisy in order to survive the camp. He's had to find a happy medium between the two.]
More kisses later, husband. [This is not a request or an expectation, but a promise. Punctuated with a brush of his thumb over Lan Zhan's lower lip, before he drops his body in an ungainly manner on the sheets right next to Yuan, startling the tears that they halt.]
Aiya, little one, what are you crying for? Want gege's hugs? Come here, come here--
[He welcomes the child climbing on top of him, rolling onto his back to make himself a more comfortable bed. This does give him a good view of what's up above, and grins at Lan Zhan as he wraps his arms around their son's tiny body.]
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Lan Wangji nearly orbits close again —
...but then there is a-Yuan, rightfully demanding his gege's care, and Lan Wangji only steps back, abashedly, to allow the two their privacy, As they frolic in the bed, Lan Wangji sends out butterflies again, passing on his latest instructions. )
Have requested dinner and fresh bathing water.
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To which the child, obviously, complains about.]
No, no! No dinner for stinky little monsters here! We only serve dinner to good kids who clean themselves up. [He stands, tucking the stinky little monster under his arm like a bag of rice.]
Tell him, Lan Zhan! Surely we don't tolerate grubby imps at the dinner table in this house!
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Perhaps, shamefully, he must simply put himself at the mercy of vagaries. Forgive him, a-Yuan. )
We prefer cleansing before meal-time. ( There are, after all, no explicit rules regarding hygiene before partaking of the dinner dishes. ) Yuan. Cleanliness is comforting.
( ...yes, what child has not taken comfort in that? )
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Cute.
But Wei Wuxian got what he wanted, and he sets Yuan down to finish up the lecture about washing before dinner. And shoos the child off with the excuse of making him pick out his later outfit.
When he straightens up and Yuan digs through their meager traveling pack, he shoots Lan Zhan a smile.]
Just every day with children. Lan Zhan, if you truly want more, you'll have to get used to this kind of conversation.
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( Good, somehow, with children. Some part of Lan Wangji had anticipated this, given his friends customary patience with the other disciples of Yunmeng. Once, he led and trained him. Of course he should now extend the same grace to this beautiful infant, clinging obediently to his silks.
Even Lan Wangji, nearly a stranger, has found himself shamefully requesting additional luxuries alongside dinner. When it is inevitably brought, by disciples who know better than to stare but cannot help exchanging glances, the meal encompasses more than the habitual three bowls per person — by several degrees. Alongside Lan fare, they have sneaked in a thick stew in the style of Caiyi, which the kitchen only produces on explicit request, for hosted guests.
These goods find their way to Lan Wangji's small table, and buckets of heated bathing water and a tub follow shortly after. An entire battalion of youthful Lan, all bowing expediently and excusing themselves, their task met.
After them, silence. )
Please. Eat.
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Minutes later, Yuan is clean, skin a little flushed from the scrubbing, and dressed in clean greys, charging through the house to finally partake in the meal. Wei Wuxian follows behind him, hair damp in places and his overcoat left behind.
He sits heavily at the little table with an oof.]
My motherly duty is done! Now he's your son, Lan Zhan.
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One offspring, still: he will make the most of it. There is no beginning, no end to Lan Wangji's affection. He may wash them all over this single child, who watches him unwaveringly, who tugs his sleeve and draws him, too, toward the low table. At least here, slipping down, he can try to curry favor with a-Yuan, starting to gently reveal each dish and pour down spoonfuls of it in his bowl.
He may test out each flavor. )
Sit with us. ( This to Wei Ying, unfailingly. ) He will not feed, if you do not.
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[Despite his grousing, he sits readily on a side adjacent to Lan Zhan, mirroring their placement on the day they married.
Ah... family dinner. At the very least, he has had this in the Burial Grounds when they had the resources to spare. They're just missing Uncle Four's wine-- but Lan Zhan is right next to him, Lans are forbidden alcohol.
Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. This is the first family dinner he has with the man, his husband no less.
The thought still makes him giddy.
As Lan Zhan busies himself with Yuan's bowl, Wei Wuxian piles food into Lan Zhan's, rice then vegetables, taking care to skirt around the meat, and tries to arrange them in a manner pleasing to the eye.]
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Now and then, he offers out a few pieces to Wei Ying, also, interested in keeping both of his charges sated. Truly, they deserve no less, and neither has had the opportunity to enjoy much care or consideration
In the end, they have fed each other, and their — son has benefitted from the largesse of both caretakers. As he should. Lan Wangji cannot begin to eat and still converse, therefore delaying his meal. )
You are all bone. Eat. We may spare.
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Rice first, even if his stomach is demanding the stew. He knows what would happen if he took too much at once. Yuan got all of his food during the trip, so he will be fine.]
Now, your turn.
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We do not speak whilst eating. ( If he begins now, while Wei Ying still plans to inevitably interrogate him, he will be unable to set down his chopsticks until he has finalised his meal. Better than they should take turns, and for Lan Wangji to attend his needs once Wei Ying takes his bath. )
Our habit, not Wei Ying's. ( He may continue, after all, as is. )
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Perhaps he would have used his claws if the rule was enforced on him. Perhaps not.
(He wouldn't have, not with Yuan here needing good role models.)
But after the meal? His mouth starts running again.]
Aiya, Lan Zhan! [He drops onto his back again, which gives their son the opportunity to climb on top of him once more.] I never thought I would be adhering to that rule again, and in the Cloud Recesses too! Who would have thought I'd ever come back here after leaving?
["Leaving", like he hadn't been expelled for fighting like the unruly student that he is.]
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He'll hurt first. He'll hurt worse. He'll never be permitted to forget the day when he showed Wei Ying his underbelly.
And yet, freshly fed and warmed by the blissful sight of Wei Ying accosted by a small child who wants to give him nothing but kindness, not even Lan Wangji could help himself. )
Wei Ying would always be invited as my guest. ( In the end, surely even Hanguang-Jun deserves some manner of privilege for winning a war. )
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He sits up, tucking Yuan against his chest, little face under his chin as he wipes the last debris of Yuan's meal from his cheeks. It's good for him to be here, even if they're surrounded by a bunch of no-fun fuddy-duddies. Maybe he can wrangle someone into keeping Yuan, maybe Lan Zhan. They've been joking about how the man is Yuan's other father already, but perhaps he should be in truth.]
Ah, Lan Zhan. [His sweet Lan Zhan, too idealistic.
Kind of Lan Zhan to say that Wei Wuxian is allowed in as a guest any time, but he doesn't think the same. He thinks that the tolerance of the Lans only stretch so far, and the next time he comes, he won't be greeted by his husband, but by swords and potential death.]
You want me to keep coming back, do you? Planning our next meeting before we even properly begin this one?
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( And duties and privileges. It is known, for all the clan would thoroughly dispute the legitimacy of the choice of a man, who cannot deliver an heir, and of Wei Wuxian, who cannot abide by the principles of the righteous path.
All the same, Lan Wangji is not their only hope for descendants. Zewu-Jun remains active, attentive, strong. Even if Hanguang-Jun has erred with his interests, as far as the collective Lan eye can see, his brother remains pristine and holy.
Let Lan Xichen bear the brunt of their expectations. Selfishly, Lan Wangji can nearly join that thought.
Instead, his gaze droops, his hands knot behind his back, and he looks about with clear intent — anywhere but before himself. )
Elopement does not render you illegitimate.
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Wei Wuxian blinks once, twice to get the tears out of his eyes so he doesn't cry in front of Lan Zhan. Look at him! He's gotten so pathetic in the past months, worn down from poverty and desperation (and the resentment he plays with so much. but he will never admit that). Just... the care in which Lan Zhan is giving him, the insistence that he must have the same privileges as his own husband despite being a wanted criminal...
He shouldn't stick around, because even if his social standing is much stronger now, Lan Zhan's is sure to fall anyway. The lesser spouse gets elevated thanks to the marriage, but he doubts the same will be true of theirs when the Yiling Patriarch is involved. Not with the jianghu out for his blood.
But he can't leave. Lan Zhan is here, and he is everything.
Wei Wuxian stands, and offers him Yuan, a symbol of the response he can't give out loud, and all the things he can't say-- yet.]
Dear, darling husband, you're too good to me.
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The child is proffered onto him, a beautiful gift he cannot refuse, arms ready. He takes him, slow and far too careful, but learning as Wei Ying entrusts him. In the end, no man is born knowing how to handle children, and many father them. He, too, can decipher this.
On his chest, Yuan is a friendly weight, finding his own peace, cooing criticism that Lan Wangji's silks are too slippery and soft, while his small fists fail to gain purchase. Yes, yes. The world is unkind to young Yuan, personally. )
Then reward me. Enjoy your time here.
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And here Lan Zhan is, only asking for him to just enjoy time in this small space he's dug out for them, away from the politics and the death, the swords that want him and his dependents dead. This is all he wants. Even for everything else he'd demanded from Wei Wuxian previously, he can't help but take his husband at face value right now.
Oh, Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian cups his cheek, strokes it with a thumb. He loves this man as a friend, a soulmate and his perfect match, but Wei Wuxian knows he could come to see him the way a wife sees a husband, if given time in this relationship.
He wants to say all of it, but perhaps that would come out too sappy, and he refrains.]
I'll start now. Mind our son while I bathe? [The water has lessened and surely cooled down by now, but he'll accept even something freezing cold as long as it's clean.]
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They fit together, Lan Wangji half holding, half cradling him. Sharing his warmth, taking in his scent. Strange, how time gallops as he walks the child, as moments blink and trail together.
How he waits, gently, until Lan Yuan's breathing calms, and finally Wei Ying appears on the horizon. )
He sleeps. ( He sounds incredulous, to his own ear. )
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He steps out already dressed in his sleepclothes, hair unbound and curling slightly at the ends. At the sight of Lan Zhan holding A-Yuan, bewilderment all over his face, he has to smile, and leans against his husband's side.]
As with his proclivity for hugging legs, he is quite comfortable with people he likes.
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Then, Wei Ying is close, too close, and Lan Wangji takes a step back, then another, having found the clear contender for a-Yuan's attentions — and unwilling to surrender his charge. Let Wei Ying fight nobly for this rarely shared privilege. Lan Wangji will not surrender it of his own accord. )
You may oil your hair and balm your skin. ( In other words, Wei Ying may distract himself, while Lan Wangji shamelessly takes advantage of Yuan's warmth. )
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