[Wei Wuxian can understand Lan Zhan's love for his sect-- he himself is much the same. He loves the Yunmeng Jiang with all his heart, and away from it, he feels like he's missing a vital organ.
But these past years have taught him that not all the sects are like Yunmeng Jiang. Sometimes they're like Lanling Jin that hurts people and uses them as stepping stones. Or they're Gusu Lan, whose elders don't seem to care and will just force what they want regardless of what their own sect leader says.]
I know. I know your brother wants to be as fair as possible to us. [But if Lan Xichen makes the same decision as Jiang Cheng, choosing the safety of his still-recovering sect over outsiders treated unfairly, then Wei Wuxian is taking matters into his own hands.]
Let him have A-Yuan for tomorrow night, after the meeting. Their meeting is long overdue. [Before they may be forced to leave.]
( Now, he is the hesitant one, the one harmed and recoiling. Wei Ying does not realise how his hatred stings, how it may bite and incapacitate. Perhaps, with time, he will learn. Perhaps Lan Wangji will yet steer his heart to thaw at the thought of Cloud Recesses.
Yet he begins to doubt that their worlds, once so deeply severed, can hope to once more combine. )
I wish you would not speak so hatefully of them. ( His elders, his people, his family. And he is unkind to ask, unfair when Wei Ying has so long suffered at the hands and indifference of the sects. Still. )
( There was far worse that a sect saddled unexpectedly with the whims of its second foremost son might have done. Worse and gladly, and they have withheld themselves.
Lan Wangji returns his attention to the child, to stroking his hair, to whisking away his hurts. Perhaps he will sleep warm, belly filled, and it will be a finer thing than all that which the Burial Mounds might have afforded him.
He turns his gaze away to look at the trembling silhouette of Wei Ying's back. )
But they are discussing you first. [Wei Wuxian grits his teeth so hard, his jaw starts to hurt.]
They're treating you like a liability, like something to be thrown away now that you've done something they don't agree with! That's unforgiveable to me, not just because you're a war hero who deserves luxuries but because you're my husband. [And no one gets to treat the people he cares about like dirt.
Lan Zhan can't say anything against them, because of his upbringing and because it wouldn't be filial, so Wei Wuxian has to be angry on his behalf.]
( By choosing to wed an outlaw and to expose the whole of Cloud Recesses to the legacy of uncertainty surrounding the Yiling Patriarch and his bloody ascension. It is no more than he deserves, than the ignoble Hanguang-Jun inflicted.
He has been selfish toward both his husband and the clan, compromising both and satisfying neither. He is wholly to blame.
And the gentle downturn of his gaze, the avoidance of Wei Ying's engagement, says so. In the end, he cannot be a coward to bitter end. His hand goes up and out, silently calling for Wei Ying's. )
I am grateful for your devotion. ( But it is futile, wasted, superfluous. )
[Wei Wuxian feels awful for Lan Zhan, being used like this. He doesn't even know how the man feels-- does he feel stuck between his husband's wrath and the judgement of his sect? Wei Wuxian can't help it, because the anger is keeping him motivated, is putting ideas in his head that he's writing down.
But he sees the outstretched hand and knows that Lan Zhan needs comfort right now. So he stands and sits right in front of his husband and grasps his hand in both of his own. Comforting.
Possessive.]
If they throw you out, the sect will be much weaker for it.
[And Wei Wuxian will steal him away and bring him to the Butial Mounds.]
You're one of the strongest cultivators in the land, and if you have to leave, your brother will have to care for the sect by himself. [He will have to send Lan Xichen a dowry one day, when he can afford it.]
( Let him have this: a moment when his hand meets Wei Ying's, when they've achieved their crumbs of peace, when they may draw strength from each other. When he brings it up silently, to kiss the stretch of his husband's battered knuckles, and his eyes shut, and he soothes himself.
It would be a wretched and hard thing, his exile. But for this man, somehow, somehow, it would all prove worthwhile. For this man, alone. )
They held and raised me. I must trust in their honour.
[Wei Wuxian doesn't think they have any honor and that their ancestors are just waiting to slap them in the afterlife for violating so many of their rules, but out of respect for Lan Zhan and the sheer vulnerability he's showing right now, he doesn't say this.
Instead:]
No matter what happens, I'm with you. [Even if they have their problems and they're likely to just keep fighting for the rest of their days. Wei Wuxian will keep Lan Zhan deep within him.]
( It's hard work, the strain of a smile, learning to embody visible kindness. Yuan should see him so, should enjoy him. But the child's already dozing, carefully succumbing to sleep after warming his body.
It's for Wei Ying to enjoy instead, however duly. The frost of their earlier interaction hasn't wholly dissipated, and Wei Ying still wears the marks of reticence. Lan Wangji gives a final squeeze to his hand, before putting himself to the work of moving Yuan, finally, into the nest of his bundled sheets.
He will need to bathe tomorrow. There can be no hope of it today. )
Shall we speak? ( There is a second room, smaller, intended for storage and less intimate guests. )
[Wei Wuxian sighs deeply. Speaking... after the day they've had, this will be difficult. He doesn't know what Lan Zhan wants to speak about, but he just knows he won't enjoy it. He would have been happier ignoring everything, pretending everything is fine until everything becomes fine, and the hurts are so long buried that there's no point in dredging them up.
But still he nods.]
All right.
[He leaves Chenqing beside one of Yuan's little fists, something for him to grab onto and soothe himself with if he somehow wakes up while the adults are away.]
The few steps down the corridor to the second belly of his humble abode, where lights have dimmed in the absence of fresh candles, and a soft chill envelops each corner. Lan Wangji draws him behind the wall, for privacy — and where he might have first started off on long overdue talk, he brings their mouths together instead.
A hard kiss, impatient, heady. All-consuming, and his hands slipping up Wei Ying's lower back, pinning him in place, as if a doll to be consumed. His scent has changed, overwhelmingly of Cloud Recesses, integrated. Pleasantly owned. )
This is not what Wei Wuxian was expecting when Lan Zhan said "talk", but clearly talk can also mean this in the personal lexicon of Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji. But who's complaining?
Wei Wuxian makes a soft noise in his throat, opening his mouth in invitation, and wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan's shoulders and pulling him closer, impossibly closer when they're already pressed together like this. All things considered, he's recovered well from the initial shock.
And, as always, he wants more. He hopes Lan Zhan won't push him away again this time.]
( In the end, they dally, kissing still an art of intimate acquaintance, their mouths combining, hands drifting down and latching timidly. He feels too thin, does Wei Ying, a creature of delicacy and bird bones. He will need care, so much care, a world's worth.
They cannot linger endlessly, for all Lan Wangji begins to learn the way of out: how to trap Wei Ying's lips between his teeth, how to court his tongue. He will never be a courtesan's match in experience, but perhaps —
They have to stop. His forehead connects with Wei Ying's, so that he might murmur: )
[No, no, no. No. Absolutely not. Not again-- not this damn thing again. Wei Wuxian is putting his foot down.]
If you're going to leave me wanting again, you can forget about kissing me for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan. [He grips the back of Lan Zhan's robes to hold him fast, a half-feral snarl on his face.] Or even sharing a bed with me.
You stay right here. I want you to throw me down onto the floor and have your way with me. Or against this wall. I'm not picky. I just want you, and for you to stop running away. You clearly want something more than just kissing, you big liar, and I want it.
( Ah, but he's mistepped — again. Perhaps this is why the elders insist on consultations before a pair is wedded, on tutoring the two in the art of (re)conciliation and maintaining the peace of the household. It does not come intuitively.
But, for once, Lan Wangji does not withdraw, neither physically nor within himself, only leaning further in when Wei Ying clutches him. There is an air of amusement that clings to him even in the seeping dark. )
Wei Ying. ( A searching kiss, shallow. More the suggestion of intimacy, apologetic. ) For our earlier quarrel. I apologise.
( Not for this particular spell of eruptive passion — which Wei Ying seems pleasantly intent on seeing through. Very well. Very well, then. )
[Wei Wuxian grumbles softly, wordlessly as his teeth find Lan Zhan's upper lip and nibbles on it. He feels a bit like his shidi with all the grumping and grumbling he's been doing recently.]
You can apologize to me by not assuming I don't want any of this. [Stupid idiot, acting like Wei Wuxian wasn't the one who insisted on marriage. He tugs on Lan Zhan's robes harder.]
if I didn't want any of it, none of it would have happened. I would have put a talisman on you and left immediately.
( There is a strange exhilaration in it, knowing now that Wei Ying is, if not powerless, then certainly less equipped to dislodge his attentions. That he can press his point shamelessly, within the confines of their mutual enjoyment.
Still, he takes Wei Ying's hands in his own, gently but insistently peeling them off Lan Wangji's robes, even as he kisses him again, and again, and again. Unendingly. )
Keep cool-headed. We cannot proceed. ( And softer, before Wei Ying might accuse him: ) Yuan, too close.
[Now he growls, still half-feral and entirely frustrated. He grabs Lan Zhan's hand, refusing to completely let him go, or to allow him to move away.
But Yuan is always a good reason for him to stand down, even if he's not pleased about it. He'll find some way to make Lan Zhan as frustrated as him though, because he's not above being petty.]
Then promise me: tomorrow, after we leave him with your brother for the night. [A pause as he hungrily chases another kiss.] If you disagree, spell me to silence right now so I'll be silent the entire time.
( He forgets himself. This is the truth of it: whatever his suffering, whatever entitlement arising from it, Wei Ying cannot presume to think that he can simply do as he pleases at every turn.
And so it behooves Lan Wangji to play the rare disciplinarian, lifting his trapped hands to bracket Wei Ying's cheeks and bring him sternly into a firm kiss intended to end the rising rebellion. )
Tomorrow. ( And so they're clear: ) No silence spell. I enjoy Wei Ying's voice.
Tomorrow. [Wei Wuxian is in agreement, and he finally lets go of Lan Zhan's hands. If he didn't, he might have jumped the man right then and there.
He already has such poor self-control on a good day, no need to tempt him even more, even if he's plotting to subtly bully Lan Zhan for neglecting him so.]
( Coming apart is somehow more challenging than coming together. He does, to respect Wei Ying's wishes, his strategic want for distance. But he shakes his head too, refusing a speedy withdrawal. Hold. Hold on, now. )
We should yet speak. ( No. A slight correction, his voice gravelly. ) I should speak.
( After all, however much he enjoys Wei Ying's voice — he makes a cutting weapon of it too often and too well. )
But you must... be patient with my failings. Agreed?
[There's more? He thought that would be the end of it, Lan Zhan wanting a quick,dirty kiss before they part again. Seems like "talk" is not a metaphor for something else entirely, and is exactly what it is.
So he tucks his hands into his sleeves and chews on his lower lip as he mulls over what Lan Zhan has just asked of him.]
As long as you don't pull me around to do whatever you want and then push me away again. [Definitely insistent on reiterating what he said earlier.] I am not a toy that you can just use and then set aside without fuss when you're done.
( They are at least minimally polite as they extract themselves, and some part of the storm seems to have dissipated. There is a gentle, calming ease that can settle between them, without resentment, without strings attached.
He nods, calmly, hands binding behind his back, assuming the general rigid posture of Cloud Recesses. )
I do not... speak as well as you. As rapidly. ( As passionately, as quickly to find and seek words. ) Bide me time to answer, when accused.
[A scowl appears on Wei Wuxian's face, but it disappears almost as quickly as it appeared.]
All right. [He knows words aren't Lan Zhan's best suit, and he has to be patient, even if he is no good at that.
Perhaps he should dredge up an old, annoying habit of his-- asking why. Perhaps it would prove to be less annoying in the context of his marriage and make it less... well. Tempestuous.]
Just... don't assume I have no regard for you. [Hah. "Regard". What a nice euphemism. It's not even close to what he feels, but he doesn't want to say what he feels because he's embarrassed.] I care. ... I care, you know. For this. For us. For you.
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But these past years have taught him that not all the sects are like Yunmeng Jiang. Sometimes they're like Lanling Jin that hurts people and uses them as stepping stones. Or they're Gusu Lan, whose elders don't seem to care and will just force what they want regardless of what their own sect leader says.]
I know. I know your brother wants to be as fair as possible to us. [But if Lan Xichen makes the same decision as Jiang Cheng, choosing the safety of his still-recovering sect over outsiders treated unfairly, then Wei Wuxian is taking matters into his own hands.]
Let him have A-Yuan for tomorrow night, after the meeting. Their meeting is long overdue. [Before they may be forced to leave.]
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( Now, he is the hesitant one, the one harmed and recoiling. Wei Ying does not realise how his hatred stings, how it may bite and incapacitate. Perhaps, with time, he will learn. Perhaps Lan Wangji will yet steer his heart to thaw at the thought of Cloud Recesses.
Yet he begins to doubt that their worlds, once so deeply severed, can hope to once more combine. )
I wish you would not speak so hatefully of them. ( His elders, his people, his family. And he is unkind to ask, unfair when Wei Ying has so long suffered at the hands and indifference of the sects. Still. )
Though it is your right.
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That's-- [A pause, a breath.]
You cannot ask me that, not when we're in this situation. Not when they're making us wait for days.
[Why are such spiteful people still revered elders, when the kind, people-loving ones of the Jiang sect are all dead?]
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( There was far worse that a sect saddled unexpectedly with the whims of its second foremost son might have done. Worse and gladly, and they have withheld themselves.
Lan Wangji returns his attention to the child, to stroking his hair, to whisking away his hurts. Perhaps he will sleep warm, belly filled, and it will be a finer thing than all that which the Burial Mounds might have afforded him.
He turns his gaze away to look at the trembling silhouette of Wei Ying's back. )
We only have hope.
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They're treating you like a liability, like something to be thrown away now that you've done something they don't agree with! That's unforgiveable to me, not just because you're a war hero who deserves luxuries but because you're my husband. [And no one gets to treat the people he cares about like dirt.
Lan Zhan can't say anything against them, because of his upbringing and because it wouldn't be filial, so Wei Wuxian has to be angry on his behalf.]
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( By choosing to wed an outlaw and to expose the whole of Cloud Recesses to the legacy of uncertainty surrounding the Yiling Patriarch and his bloody ascension. It is no more than he deserves, than the ignoble Hanguang-Jun inflicted.
He has been selfish toward both his husband and the clan, compromising both and satisfying neither. He is wholly to blame.
And the gentle downturn of his gaze, the avoidance of Wei Ying's engagement, says so. In the end, he cannot be a coward to bitter end. His hand goes up and out, silently calling for Wei Ying's. )
I am grateful for your devotion. ( But it is futile, wasted, superfluous. )
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But he sees the outstretched hand and knows that Lan Zhan needs comfort right now. So he stands and sits right in front of his husband and grasps his hand in both of his own. Comforting.
Possessive.]
If they throw you out, the sect will be much weaker for it.
[And Wei Wuxian will steal him away and bring him to the Butial Mounds.]
You're one of the strongest cultivators in the land, and if you have to leave, your brother will have to care for the sect by himself. [He will have to send Lan Xichen a dowry one day, when he can afford it.]
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( Let him have this: a moment when his hand meets Wei Ying's, when they've achieved their crumbs of peace, when they may draw strength from each other. When he brings it up silently, to kiss the stretch of his husband's battered knuckles, and his eyes shut, and he soothes himself.
It would be a wretched and hard thing, his exile. But for this man, somehow, somehow, it would all prove worthwhile. For this man, alone. )
They held and raised me. I must trust in their honour.
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Instead:]
No matter what happens, I'm with you. [Even if they have their problems and they're likely to just keep fighting for the rest of their days. Wei Wuxian will keep Lan Zhan deep within him.]
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It's for Wei Ying to enjoy instead, however duly. The frost of their earlier interaction hasn't wholly dissipated, and Wei Ying still wears the marks of reticence. Lan Wangji gives a final squeeze to his hand, before putting himself to the work of moving Yuan, finally, into the nest of his bundled sheets.
He will need to bathe tomorrow. There can be no hope of it today. )
Shall we speak? ( There is a second room, smaller, intended for storage and less intimate guests. )
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But still he nods.]
All right.
[He leaves Chenqing beside one of Yuan's little fists, something for him to grab onto and soothe himself with if he somehow wakes up while the adults are away.]
Lead the way.
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The few steps down the corridor to the second belly of his humble abode, where lights have dimmed in the absence of fresh candles, and a soft chill envelops each corner. Lan Wangji draws him behind the wall, for privacy — and where he might have first started off on long overdue talk, he brings their mouths together instead.
A hard kiss, impatient, heady. All-consuming, and his hands slipping up Wei Ying's lower back, pinning him in place, as if a doll to be consumed. His scent has changed, overwhelmingly of Cloud Recesses, integrated. Pleasantly owned. )
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This is not what Wei Wuxian was expecting when Lan Zhan said "talk", but clearly talk can also mean this in the personal lexicon of Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji. But who's complaining?
Wei Wuxian makes a soft noise in his throat, opening his mouth in invitation, and wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan's shoulders and pulling him closer, impossibly closer when they're already pressed together like this. All things considered, he's recovered well from the initial shock.
And, as always, he wants more. He hopes Lan Zhan won't push him away again this time.]
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They cannot linger endlessly, for all Lan Wangji begins to learn the way of out: how to trap Wei Ying's lips between his teeth, how to court his tongue. He will never be a courtesan's match in experience, but perhaps —
They have to stop. His forehead connects with Wei Ying's, so that he might murmur: )
I apologise.
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If you're going to leave me wanting again, you can forget about kissing me for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan. [He grips the back of Lan Zhan's robes to hold him fast, a half-feral snarl on his face.] Or even sharing a bed with me.
You stay right here. I want you to throw me down onto the floor and have your way with me. Or against this wall. I'm not picky. I just want you, and for you to stop running away. You clearly want something more than just kissing, you big liar, and I want it.
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But, for once, Lan Wangji does not withdraw, neither physically nor within himself, only leaning further in when Wei Ying clutches him. There is an air of amusement that clings to him even in the seeping dark. )
Wei Ying. ( A searching kiss, shallow. More the suggestion of intimacy, apologetic. ) For our earlier quarrel. I apologise.
( Not for this particular spell of eruptive passion — which Wei Ying seems pleasantly intent on seeing through. Very well. Very well, then. )
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You can apologize to me by not assuming I don't want any of this. [Stupid idiot, acting like Wei Wuxian wasn't the one who insisted on marriage. He tugs on Lan Zhan's robes harder.]
if I didn't want any of it, none of it would have happened. I would have put a talisman on you and left immediately.
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( There is a strange exhilaration in it, knowing now that Wei Ying is, if not powerless, then certainly less equipped to dislodge his attentions. That he can press his point shamelessly, within the confines of their mutual enjoyment.
Still, he takes Wei Ying's hands in his own, gently but insistently peeling them off Lan Wangji's robes, even as he kisses him again, and again, and again. Unendingly. )
Keep cool-headed. We cannot proceed. ( And softer, before Wei Ying might accuse him: ) Yuan, too close.
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But Yuan is always a good reason for him to stand down, even if he's not pleased about it. He'll find some way to make Lan Zhan as frustrated as him though, because he's not above being petty.]
Then promise me: tomorrow, after we leave him with your brother for the night. [A pause as he hungrily chases another kiss.] If you disagree, spell me to silence right now so I'll be silent the entire time.
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And so it behooves Lan Wangji to play the rare disciplinarian, lifting his trapped hands to bracket Wei Ying's cheeks and bring him sternly into a firm kiss intended to end the rising rebellion. )
Tomorrow. ( And so they're clear: ) No silence spell. I enjoy Wei Ying's voice.
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He already has such poor self-control on a good day, no need to tempt him even more, even if he's plotting to subtly bully Lan Zhan for neglecting him so.]
Go get changed for bed, husband.
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We should yet speak. ( No. A slight correction, his voice gravelly. ) I should speak.
( After all, however much he enjoys Wei Ying's voice — he makes a cutting weapon of it too often and too well. )
But you must... be patient with my failings. Agreed?
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So he tucks his hands into his sleeves and chews on his lower lip as he mulls over what Lan Zhan has just asked of him.]
As long as you don't pull me around to do whatever you want and then push me away again. [Definitely insistent on reiterating what he said earlier.] I am not a toy that you can just use and then set aside without fuss when you're done.
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He nods, calmly, hands binding behind his back, assuming the general rigid posture of Cloud Recesses. )
I do not... speak as well as you. As rapidly. ( As passionately, as quickly to find and seek words. ) Bide me time to answer, when accused.
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All right. [He knows words aren't Lan Zhan's best suit, and he has to be patient, even if he is no good at that.
Perhaps he should dredge up an old, annoying habit of his-- asking why. Perhaps it would prove to be less annoying in the context of his marriage and make it less... well. Tempestuous.]
Just... don't assume I have no regard for you. [Hah. "Regard". What a nice euphemism. It's not even close to what he feels, but he doesn't want to say what he feels because he's embarrassed.] I care. ... I care, you know. For this. For us. For you.
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