( Let's. As if it's a simple thing, immediate. As if there is no forethought that might burden their enterprise or delay it, as if Lan Wangji needn't —
...think. He must think. Surely, surely. He must plan, make this worthwhile, enticing, a spectacle. He watches his hand, captive in Wei Ying's, and tugs on sheer instinct of introducing distance between them, of shielding his inadequacy.
There is a pause, a moment of recalibration. Then, he recites: )
Since I finally see the young man, how can I be not happy? ( A tender proposition. )
[Wei Wuxian wonders what Lan Zhan will do, but then he hears that short line of poetry, and he can't help but gasp, placing his hands on his chest like a young lady of the gentry. He's already lying down, so he can't keel over and pretend to swoon, unfortunately. But he can still act.
Not that it's any act. He's genuinely pleased at the line coming from his husband's mouth, even if it's quite simple. Lan Zhan likes poems! He likes sappy little love poems! That's cute.]
Poetry, for me? Wonderful poetry?
Aiya, you have already given me two things! Now I have to think of gifts to reciprocate with. [That won't be easy, what with his lack of money.]
( Wonderful, says Wei Ying, and any other day Lan Wangji might question the sincerity of his exuberance. But he's so openly charmed, so at ease, so complimentary —
...that even Lan Wangji, cheeks flush and gaze wandered, lets himself bask in the possibility. He should learn better, finer, proper verse. He will speak it, as sophisticated lovers do, to win his bride's heart. )
But Wei Wuxian can't be satisfied with just that. Wei Wuxian and Yuan are his gifts? Come now, he's given poetry and a pretty hair comb, why would Wei Wuxian not reciprocate? They're courting, it's only right.
Wei Wuxian sits up and places his chin on Lan Zhan's shoulder.]
Come on, Lan-er-gege, I want to give you something too. You got me when we married, and Yuan-er was part of marrying me as my son. I should be giving you something!
( So sweet, so very sweet, a picture. Better than Lan Wangji might have imagined, grounded despite his recent excesses and the great tidal anger that so often stormed him during the Sunshot campaign.
There is hope for Wei Ying, still, despite his necromancy. He is certain of this little. He must be.
And, murmuring, he answers his spouse's plea, tipping his head to cover the crown of Wei Ying's, accepting his proximity. )
Your mouth, freely. ( As often, as little, as flimsily or daringly as Wei Ying might choose to. Only the pleasure of knowing Lan Wangji is not only permitted, but invited. That the rejection of Phoenix Mountain is long banished. )
[Wei Wuxian's mischievous smile turns softer, but is no less bright. It's more warm, affectionate, and pleased with the innocent request from Lan Zhan, even if his words could be misconstrued as something more salacious. Wei Wuxian knows better thanks to admissions from Lan Zhan's own mouth, and chooses not to tease him for this.
Instead, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Lan Zhan's cheek.]
Yes. [Simple, easy permission given.] You want it now?
( Yes. And may he ask? Should he? There is a disquiet in him, a fear that he pushes Wei Ying past his natural comfort. That he takes advantage, a man raised and kept at a certain station through happenstance of birthright.
But the print of Wei Ying's mouth still burns his cheek, and Wei Ying's fresh scent, so naturally mixed with the house's sandalwood, overwhelms him. He nods, and he leans in first, drawing himself into Wei Ying's orbit.
Silly Lan Zhan. [He grins, pressing their foreheads together.] I'm already here.
[With their bodies pressed up like this, the only way he can come to Lan Zhan is if he is right in the man's lap. But he's already been there before, so why be so shy?
So he just swings his whole body into Lan Zhan's lap, legs bracketing Lan Zhan's waist, arouns around his shoulders. Shameless and enthusiastic.]
( They are too close for courtesy, perhaps even for comfort. Wei Ying straddles his lap and holds onto him as if he weren't an enemy, or an overlooked friend, or a dullard scion of Cloud Recesses.
Their hands bind together. Their foreheads knock. When he initiates the kiss, it isn't bashful or unassuming, it isn't heated, but faintly, knowingly patient. He has time. He will always have time, now they are married.
Their lips press faintly, their tongues intersect. He absorbs all that this man is. )
[It's not the soft, chaste kisses they've shared before, nor is it the heated, passionate sessions that never fail to take his breath away. To Wei Wuxian, it feels more like a greeting and acknowledgement, a companion to what their words are saying.
Here I am.
You are indeed here.
When Lan Zhan releases his mouth, Wei Wuxian proceeds to pepper kisses all over his husband's face. Forehead, brow, cheekbones, even nose. Learning his face with his mouth.]
I will be here for as long as I can. And if I have to go, I will always come back.
[A promise and a wish in one. He doesn't know what the future holds, but he'll always try to return to Lan Zhan's side.]
But he can't call the lie, can't name Wei Ying a traitor. Watches him with the mournful awareness of every man who's known winter will once again come, who can depend on nothing, on no one.
And he weathers the storm of his... husband's affection with strange, straining impunity. He nods, unbidden. Accepts it has come now, it will go some time after. Next he initiates a kiss, it's to Wei Ying's brow, firm. )
Ah, so you want me to show with my actions instead? [So picky! So fussy!
So endearing.
He taps at his chin as if thinking about it, even if he doesn't actually need to. Lan Zhan's demands are good enough for him, because he feels his skin crawl every time he says something sappy or soft, he needs some levity.
He kisses his way along Lan Zhan's jawline until he reaches his husband's mouth, and offers himself freely, parting his lips.]
( Picky, fussy. Endearing, says Wei Ying. Kissable, say Wei Ying's actions. They come together, and it's more of the same, sweet kisses leading no where, building to nothing, wholly purposeless and all the finer for it.
He is enchanted by their restraint, their modesty, their willingness to abide. To court, as they might, if they had a chaperone. )
[There's something to be said about how sweet their kisses are right now, how they don't burn him up but instead make him want to melt into Lan Zhan and stay there forever. He wants to keep kissing Lan Zhan, but even if they keep saying that they have so much time now, there's almost never enough time to just be.
One would think, given how long cultivator lives can be, that they're more casual about many things, but no. Many things can happen so quickly. He's intent on savoring this as much as he can. This small moment of peace with the one person who makes him feel whole.
It's why he whines a little when Lan Zhan tells him to be good instead of kissing him more.]
Me? Be good? Lan Zhan, I'm always good! [Even if he has likely driven Lan Qiren into fits when he was last in Cloud Recesses.]
( Always good. Lover and liar and a wonderful man, Lan Wangji's own. And frustrated, in ways he begins to suspect relate far more with the feeling of inertia, of being forced to slow down to Wangji's own measured, simmering pace.
He wants to apologise. Can't. If he begins something here, hands already quarreling and tightening in white-knuckled fists on his lap, he will not gladly end it. He knows enough about himself and his weakness to conclude this.
Perhaps he has assumed in vain that Wei Ying does as well. For a moments, his gaze slips down, finds the floor. He hesitates. )
I... am not. That is why... I cannot be trusted to set aside what we begin.
Ah? [He pauses, tilting his head as he mulls those words over a little bit. It's impossible for him to thin of Lan Zhan as not being good, but if he says so, that means he thinks he's violating one of those three thousand rules on that rock. Given their current circumstance...
He follows Lan Zhan's gaze down, and notes how he's balling his fists up so hard, his knuckles are becoming more prominent.
He thinks he gets it.]
Lan Zhan, are you...? Aiya, it's not a bad thing, you know. Awkward, but not bad!
( Awkward, like the part and whole of him, as if he needs further disgrace. As if they don't both know his critical inexperience in matters of the heart is frankly ruinous.
For a moment, he holds silent, pensive, incapable of expressing himself wholly, of delivering the full extent of his thoughts. Then, he positions his hands on his knees, bracing, head still bowed as if offering the honours due to an elder, or to divinity.
He is a penitent in such things, owing his husband respect. )
I want you. ( Let this much be clear. ) But a marriage is not mere desire.
[Oh. It's one thing to know that Lan Zhan likes him, another to hear that he wants him. Wholly. Wants him despite his desire to go slowly because they charged into this relationship like a spooked cart horse thunders down a street.
Wei Wuxian's throat suddenly feels dry. He's suddenly conscious of where he's sitting, his legs and arms still around Lan Zhan when his husband is insistent on not touching him. He drops them, and sits on his ankles, but he's still right in front of Lan Zhan, their knees just about touching.]
You want... things like mutual feelings too. [Which is not unusual when it comes to marriages that are not arranged, nor preposterous for Lan Zhan himself to want.
Wei Wuxian is just no good at dealing with feelings. He doesn't want to examine them because they will inevitably hurt, or the other person will realize that they just don't want the feelings that Wei Wuxian gives them.
Like right now. It hurts that Lan Zhan doubts him so when they're so deep into this now.]
( And that Wei Ying, so long submerged in the hatred, disbelief and contempt of others, might so easily mistake his own appreciation for admiration, for affection, for more. He shakes his head, tender. )
Wei Ying has long not received kindness.
( For a thirsting man, every droplet of water overwhelms. It cannot be helped. Wei Ying cannot be helped — nor, in his own way, trusted. It would be the simplest, the least demanding thing to submit to his instincts and presume to misinterpret Wei Ying's gentle acceptance as true interest.
Perhaps it is — while Lan Wangji is his only option. )
[Everything stops for Wei Wuxian. He even forgets to breathe for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is reedy.]
You think I'm doing this because I'm grateful.
Because I want to keep your favor. You think I'm using my body and your interest in me to keep it.
[The worst part of this accusation is that he has done it before. Time and time again, he had done everything to make sure that the Jiangs don't throw him back onto the streets. That he's pulling his weight, not more trouble than he's worth. But right now he's so, so sure that he's not doing the same thing to Lan Zhan, that he's doing this because he wants to.
He stands up, turns around and sits himself at the windowsill, hands tucked against his body. He hurts, in more ways than one.]
( How did they come to this? Distance, accusations. Wei Ying withdrawing into himself, the specter of outrage, virtue and character equally offended. Lan Wangji thinks to follow him, rises up, extends a hand —
But falls short of touch, coaxed back into discipline. He cannot selfishly inflict himself on a man clearly wounded, only to ease Lan Wangji's own mind. He cannot presume to take from Wei Ying, only to bring himself equilibrium. The principles and his own upbringing both forbid it. )
It is easy for Wei Ying to waste his affection on the only person present. One he dismissed in better times.
( And can he be faulted? In the absence of duress, Wei Ying never turned to him. )
[Fuck you, Wei Wuxian wants to scream. He's putting the blame on Wei Wuxian, and it hurts him even more.
He didn't look at Lan Zhan? He's always been looking!]
You are the one who refused to look at me! [He wants something in his hands to throw.] Every time I tried to catch your attention, you always left! Every time, even when we were young! Even when we just married, you didn't want me!
Don't you try to blame me for all of this, even if it's easy to put it all on me.
( And he has mistepped again, heinously. Driven Wei Ying to some manner of brink, himself hot in those footsteps. He means to interject, to excuse himself, to contradict -
But this isn't his moment, his time. It is a selfish thing that he does, speaking his own mind, already. And so, more distance. A few steps back, and a few more, and he seats again, watching the shield of Wei Ying's back turned to him. )
Is it blame? ( Slow, even. ) Wishing for time that we may both settle with our feelings?
( If it is not mere gratitude, it will linger when Wei Ying's fortunes improve. Why disdain the test? )
You just accused me of not liking you until it was convenient. I think that says a lot about how you feel.
[Wei Wuxian's tone is venomous enough to kill. Too bad Lan Zhan is too pig-headed to die from it, and that hurts even more. What kind of man does Lan Zhan think he is? He's the one who refused to give him the time of day so often.
And now he's withholding affection too.
He can't take more of this. He stands, grabs his socks, boots and overcoat, and stomps to the door.]
If you truly feel that way, I'm not going to stay and continue to be insulted.
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[And, because he can and because he really, really wants to:]
We have all the time now, don't we? Let's do some courting.
[They're doing this all backwards. First a child, then marriage. What's one more on the list?]
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...think. He must think. Surely, surely. He must plan, make this worthwhile, enticing, a spectacle. He watches his hand, captive in Wei Ying's, and tugs on sheer instinct of introducing distance between them, of shielding his inadequacy.
There is a pause, a moment of recalibration. Then, he recites: )
Since I finally see the young man, how can I be not happy? ( A tender proposition. )
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Not that it's any act. He's genuinely pleased at the line coming from his husband's mouth, even if it's quite simple. Lan Zhan likes poems! He likes sappy little love poems! That's cute.]
Poetry, for me? Wonderful poetry?
Aiya, you have already given me two things! Now I have to think of gifts to reciprocate with. [That won't be easy, what with his lack of money.]
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...that even Lan Wangji, cheeks flush and gaze wandered, lets himself bask in the possibility. He should learn better, finer, proper verse. He will speak it, as sophisticated lovers do, to win his bride's heart. )
Wei Ying's presence is my gift. My child.
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But Wei Wuxian can't be satisfied with just that. Wei Wuxian and Yuan are his gifts? Come now, he's given poetry and a pretty hair comb, why would Wei Wuxian not reciprocate? They're courting, it's only right.
Wei Wuxian sits up and places his chin on Lan Zhan's shoulder.]
Come on, Lan-er-gege, I want to give you something too. You got me when we married, and Yuan-er was part of marrying me as my son. I should be giving you something!
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There is hope for Wei Ying, still, despite his necromancy. He is certain of this little. He must be.
And, murmuring, he answers his spouse's plea, tipping his head to cover the crown of Wei Ying's, accepting his proximity. )
Your mouth, freely. ( As often, as little, as flimsily or daringly as Wei Ying might choose to. Only the pleasure of knowing Lan Wangji is not only permitted, but invited. That the rejection of Phoenix Mountain is long banished. )
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Instead, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Lan Zhan's cheek.]
Yes. [Simple, easy permission given.] You want it now?
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But the print of Wei Ying's mouth still burns his cheek, and Wei Ying's fresh scent, so naturally mixed with the house's sandalwood, overwhelms him. He nods, and he leans in first, drawing himself into Wei Ying's orbit.
Pretty. Pretty man, pretty token. )
Come here.
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[With their bodies pressed up like this, the only way he can come to Lan Zhan is if he is right in the man's lap. But he's already been there before, so why be so shy?
So he just swings his whole body into Lan Zhan's lap, legs bracketing Lan Zhan's waist, arouns around his shoulders. Shameless and enthusiastic.]
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Their hands bind together. Their foreheads knock. When he initiates the kiss, it isn't bashful or unassuming, it isn't heated, but faintly, knowingly patient. He has time. He will always have time, now they are married.
Their lips press faintly, their tongues intersect. He absorbs all that this man is. )
Yes. You are here.
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Here I am.
You are indeed here.
When Lan Zhan releases his mouth, Wei Wuxian proceeds to pepper kisses all over his husband's face. Forehead, brow, cheekbones, even nose. Learning his face with his mouth.]
I will be here for as long as I can. And if I have to go, I will always come back.
[A promise and a wish in one. He doesn't know what the future holds, but he'll always try to return to Lan Zhan's side.]
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But he can't call the lie, can't name Wei Ying a traitor. Watches him with the mournful awareness of every man who's known winter will once again come, who can depend on nothing, on no one.
And he weathers the storm of his... husband's affection with strange, straining impunity. He nods, unbidden. Accepts it has come now, it will go some time after. Next he initiates a kiss, it's to Wei Ying's brow, firm. )
Words are simple.
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So endearing.
He taps at his chin as if thinking about it, even if he doesn't actually need to. Lan Zhan's demands are good enough for him, because he feels his skin crawl every time he says something sappy or soft, he needs some levity.
He kisses his way along Lan Zhan's jawline until he reaches his husband's mouth, and offers himself freely, parting his lips.]
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He is enchanted by their restraint, their modesty, their willingness to abide. To court, as they might, if they had a chaperone. )
Be good.
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One would think, given how long cultivator lives can be, that they're more casual about many things, but no. Many things can happen so quickly. He's intent on savoring this as much as he can. This small moment of peace with the one person who makes him feel whole.
It's why he whines a little when Lan Zhan tells him to be good instead of kissing him more.]
Me? Be good? Lan Zhan, I'm always good! [Even if he has likely driven Lan Qiren into fits when he was last in Cloud Recesses.]
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He wants to apologise. Can't. If he begins something here, hands already quarreling and tightening in white-knuckled fists on his lap, he will not gladly end it. He knows enough about himself and his weakness to conclude this.
Perhaps he has assumed in vain that Wei Ying does as well. For a moments, his gaze slips down, finds the floor. He hesitates. )
I... am not. That is why... I cannot be trusted to set aside what we begin.
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He follows Lan Zhan's gaze down, and notes how he's balling his fists up so hard, his knuckles are becoming more prominent.
He thinks he gets it.]
Lan Zhan, are you...? Aiya, it's not a bad thing, you know. Awkward, but not bad!
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For a moment, he holds silent, pensive, incapable of expressing himself wholly, of delivering the full extent of his thoughts. Then, he positions his hands on his knees, bracing, head still bowed as if offering the honours due to an elder, or to divinity.
He is a penitent in such things, owing his husband respect. )
I want you. ( Let this much be clear. ) But a marriage is not mere desire.
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Wei Wuxian's throat suddenly feels dry. He's suddenly conscious of where he's sitting, his legs and arms still around Lan Zhan when his husband is insistent on not touching him. He drops them, and sits on his ankles, but he's still right in front of Lan Zhan, their knees just about touching.]
You want... things like mutual feelings too. [Which is not unusual when it comes to marriages that are not arranged, nor preposterous for Lan Zhan himself to want.
Wei Wuxian is just no good at dealing with feelings. He doesn't want to examine them because they will inevitably hurt, or the other person will realize that they just don't want the feelings that Wei Wuxian gives them.
Like right now. It hurts that Lan Zhan doubts him so when they're so deep into this now.]
You think I don't feel the same?
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( And that Wei Ying, so long submerged in the hatred, disbelief and contempt of others, might so easily mistake his own appreciation for admiration, for affection, for more. He shakes his head, tender. )
Wei Ying has long not received kindness.
( For a thirsting man, every droplet of water overwhelms. It cannot be helped. Wei Ying cannot be helped — nor, in his own way, trusted. It would be the simplest, the least demanding thing to submit to his instincts and presume to misinterpret Wei Ying's gentle acceptance as true interest.
Perhaps it is — while Lan Wangji is his only option. )
Bide your time.
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You think I'm doing this because I'm grateful.
Because I want to keep your favor. You think I'm using my body and your interest in me to keep it.
[The worst part of this accusation is that he has done it before. Time and time again, he had done everything to make sure that the Jiangs don't throw him back onto the streets. That he's pulling his weight, not more trouble than he's worth. But right now he's so, so sure that he's not doing the same thing to Lan Zhan, that he's doing this because he wants to.
He stands up, turns around and sits himself at the windowsill, hands tucked against his body. He hurts, in more ways than one.]
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( How did they come to this? Distance, accusations. Wei Ying withdrawing into himself, the specter of outrage, virtue and character equally offended. Lan Wangji thinks to follow him, rises up, extends a hand —
But falls short of touch, coaxed back into discipline. He cannot selfishly inflict himself on a man clearly wounded, only to ease Lan Wangji's own mind. He cannot presume to take from Wei Ying, only to bring himself equilibrium. The principles and his own upbringing both forbid it. )
It is easy for Wei Ying to waste his affection on the only person present. One he dismissed in better times.
( And can he be faulted? In the absence of duress, Wei Ying never turned to him. )
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He didn't look at Lan Zhan? He's always been looking!]
You are the one who refused to look at me! [He wants something in his hands to throw.] Every time I tried to catch your attention, you always left! Every time, even when we were young! Even when we just married, you didn't want me!
Don't you try to blame me for all of this, even if it's easy to put it all on me.
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But this isn't his moment, his time. It is a selfish thing that he does, speaking his own mind, already. And so, more distance. A few steps back, and a few more, and he seats again, watching the shield of Wei Ying's back turned to him. )
Is it blame? ( Slow, even. ) Wishing for time that we may both settle with our feelings?
( If it is not mere gratitude, it will linger when Wei Ying's fortunes improve. Why disdain the test? )
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[Wei Wuxian's tone is venomous enough to kill. Too bad Lan Zhan is too pig-headed to die from it, and that hurts even more. What kind of man does Lan Zhan think he is? He's the one who refused to give him the time of day so often.
And now he's withholding affection too.
He can't take more of this. He stands, grabs his socks, boots and overcoat, and stomps to the door.]
If you truly feel that way, I'm not going to stay and continue to be insulted.
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