Archive of Our Own

“Wei Wuxian! Hi! Wei Wuxian, over here!”

Midway between considering the logistics of investing in a pet donkey to carry him to Gusu lecture hall for early morning academic sessions, Wei Wuxian halts in his tracks. He turns in the direction of the voice.

From the other side of the road Wen Ning hurries up towards him, satchel cluttering noisily at his back. Wen Qing follows behind him, hair perfectly coiffed and signature red lip perfectly in place even at 8:06 on a Monday morning.

“Wen Ning, what’s up?” he says, a little too patiently for someone who is already six minutes late for Monday journal club and still at least three and a half minutes away from Gusu lecture hall.

“Sorry, you’re probably late for rounds,” Wen Ning says as he stops in front of Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian shrugs, not daring to look at the time on his phone anymore. “Um—so you know, I was thinking, since it is m-my...”

Here’s the thing: Wei Wuxian loves Wen Ning. He’s not sure when exactly they had become friends, but it probably had something to do with Wei Wuxian being a bit of a self-appointed schoolyard hero in primary school. Somewhere between intimidating bullies into leaving Wen Ning alone, the kid had taken to following him around everywhere: from shyly offering him half of his lunch at the school cafeteria to sneaking him his sister’s notes to diligently bringing him coffee as he dozed off regularly in the library during all-nighters in medical school.

All these years later, Wei Wuxian could be forgiven for being fond enough of the second year at the veterinary department to indulge him unfailingly. After all, he’s late enough anyway that a few extra minutes wouldn’t matter.

“Go on, Wen Ning. What’s up?”

“It’s—ah, well, you wouldn’t remember but it’s actually my birthday today.” Oh. Wei Wuxian is an idiot. A constantly sleep-deprived, overly caffeinated, third year neurosurgical resident who does 24 hour call shifts three times a week, but there’s still no valid excuse for forgetting an old friend’s birthday and he’s an idiot nonetheless. “So I was thinking of having a small... er—small party at my house this Saturday, was wondering if you’d be free.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says. His phone buzzes and he glances down instinctively. It’s Nie Huaisang.

where are u? lan qiren is here.

8:11 a.m, the clock on his lock screen reads.

“Fuck! I mean. Of course I’ll come! Look, I’m late. Really, really fucking late. See you around?” He shouts out the last few words as he breaks into a panicked run.

Gusu lecture hall is entirely too complicated a structure to be allowed on the campus of a teaching hospital, he’s always maintained. Who puts five fountains, countless flowering shrubs and at least twenty marble statues to wind around on the way to a lecture hall?

As he navigates the obstacle-course-like path to the auditorium, he tries once again to remember which resident was due to present the research paper up for discussion today. Every Monday morning they would have a session to discuss the latest research in neurosurgery, presented by a resident and chaired by faculty. Every resident would in turn be allotted a journal or specific area of the discipline to focus on, and they would have to describe and break down one of the most recent articles they could find under that. For a start, at least Wei Wuxian is sure it is not his own turn today.

He’s panting as he skids to a stop inches away from the entrance. Through the crack in the door, a voice floats out at him. Clear, low, measured. His heart sinks even before he’s opened the door.

“—corresponding to the results of the Japanese study from 2013 comparing outcomes with endovascular clot removal—”

Of course, because this is just Wei Wuxian’s luck, it’s Lan Wangji’s turn to present today.

Lan Wangji is standing at the podium in front of the screen, highlighting words with his laser pointer as he speaks. He’s wearing glasses today, and Wei Wuxian ignores the stab of something that sets off in an area of his body it is too early in the day to deal with.

He tries his best to slip into the nearest seat as surreptitiously as possible. He really does. Even Nie Huaisang, who is nodding off in the seat just in front of him, doesn’t flinch. Lan Qiren definitely wouldn’t have noticed all the way from the front row where he is seated.

Wouldn’t have—Unless.

Later, Wei Wuxian consoles himself with the thought that at least he’d made Lan Wangji—stoic, icy, perfect Lan Wangji—lose his train of thought for five seconds.

Somehow, inexplicably, from fifty feet away and below, Lan Wangji’s eyes fall directly upon Wei Wuxian’s at the moment he’s reached the nearest seat and about to sit down. For what feels like an eternity but is probably realistically only a fraction of a second, they stare at each other. Then: clank. The laser pointer in his hand slips to the floor.

Wei Wuxian is rooted to the spot, resigned to his fate. Eyes hone in on him from all around—he winces as he realises the entire neurosurgery, neurology, radiology and anaesthesia departments are here. From the first row reserved for faculty, Lan Qiren cranes his neck behind, lips curling in distaste as he recognises Wei Wuxian as the latecomer. He doesn’t look surprised, which Wei Wuxian supposes is within reason.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji has straightened up. His eyes finds Wei Wuxian’s almost immediately again. His face is as impassive as ever, but Wei Wuxian notes with some satisfaction the tiny details that almost anyone else would have missed—

The single crease on the side of his light blue sweater (cashmere, obviously). The barely ten degree tilt of the left collar of his white dress shirt he’s wearing underneath. The twin creases on his otherwise immaculately pressed beige linen slacks above his knees from bending to pick up his laser pointer. The single long, dark section of hair that has come undone from his neat bun to frame the side of his face.

A sliver of tongue darting out to lick plush, puffy lips brings Wei Wuxian back to reality, and he takes his seat.

Backpack laid on the desk in front of him, he crosses his arms, resting his chin on his hands and watches Lan Wangji continue his talk as if nothing ever happened. “A-xian, you can’t hide away from your feelings forever!” he hears Yanli say in his head, and rolls his eyes.

He’s too old and tired for this anyway, whatever this is. It’s been twenty years of it, so he may as well just go with it.

His mind wanders as Lan Wangji continues to discuss the results of the study. That single lock of hair that has come undone from his bun is annoying him the more he looks at it. It falls straight, almost gracefully (what the hell? It’s literally hair—) kissing the smooth line of his neck and past his collarbone.

Eighteen years ago, that same lock of hair had come undone from eight year old Lan Wangji’s ponytail, and it had been Wei Wuxian’s doing.

“Wei Wuxian!” little Lan Wangji had shouted at him behind the schoolyard swings. Lan Wangji never called him that.

Wei Wuxian had been happy just moments ago, Lan Wangji’s white ribbon clutched in his hand as his pretty hair spilt from his ponytail onto his shoulders and back. He didn’t really know why, but something about his friend’s hair hanging like that and the tips of his ears turning pink made his cheeks feel warm and his heart beat faster. Maybe because it made Lan Zhan look like a girl?

He ignored the voice inside him that said: Lan Zhan doesn’t look a girl though, even with pink ears and hair hanging loose over his shoulders and back. He still just looked like Lan Zhan.

That couldn’t be true though, because girls had long hair and were supposed to make your cheeks warm and your heart beat faster. At least that’s what Nie Huaisang said. Ugh, he couldn’t wait till he was nine. Things would definitely make sense then!

“Wei Wuxian!” a voice hisses.

Wei Wuxian blinks, and twenty six year old Nie Huaisang looks sideways back at him. “Stop sleeping!” he mouths, holding his fan up in front of him. “Lan Wangji has been giving you the stink eye for the past five minutes.”

Wei Wuxian pouts. “Rude! Can’t he tell I’m overworked and sleep-deprived?”

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes at him and pulls out his phone. Moments later, Wei Wuxian’s phone lights up.

Nie Huaisang (8:28): heard lqr really gave wangji a hard time while preparing this presentation.

Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji’s perfectly prepared slides, his fingers seamlessly moving the laser pointer to highlight the relevant parts he is talking about, voice calm and confident. Lan Wangji? Given a hard time by a professor?

Wei Wuxian (8:29): sounds fake but okay

Nie Huaisang (8:31): sooo looks like he suggested to lqr that they should recruit another resident to help with that study he’s been doing! it’s the BIG one, total highlight of lqr’s career which he’s been planning it for years and wangji has been doing all the work so far but it’s almost over now so it’s like? why ask another resident to pitch in now, there’s barely any work left to be done? and u know how anal LQR is about his research, he doesn’t want us common riff-raff sullying his work lmao he was MAD mad

Wei Wuxian (8:32) lol, lan zhan wanted another resident to help with lqr’s research? sizhui? the kid is young but maybe he wanted to give him a head start? pretty sure he’s the only one lan zhan cares about besides his brother anyway aww what a good dad

Nie Huaisang (8:33): uhhh pretty sure sizhui can’t be the one since he’s still just a medical student u kno

Wei Wuxian (8:34): who else then LOL has our lan zhan finally found love and is this his idea of courtship... luv me, i’ll get u a spot on LQR’s epic practice-changing research <3 cant say no to that arrangement ;)

Nie Huaisang (8:35): dude stop texting, wangji is looking at u again

Wei Wuxian (8:35): WOW i’m literally just replying to u

Wei Wuxian peeks out over his backpack on the table and finds Lan Wangji looking straight at him for a millisecond before averting his eyes the moment they made contact. It’s entirely too early for any of this. Who starts academic sessions at eight in the morning? Who made all these people wake up in time for this? Who allowed Lan Wangji to wear glasses with that one lock of hair framing the side of his face and his lips all plush and red from all the talking he’s been doing—

Lan Qiren clears his throat. Lan Wangji has stopped speaking. Thank You, reads the slide projected on the screen.

“Wei Wuxian,” calls out Lan Qiren.

There’s a sense of inevitability about it. Realistically, he knew this was coming the moment he woke up and realised it was 7:43 a.m. Well, then. Here we fucking go.

“Which were the significant primary outcomes of the study Wangji just discussed?”

Wei Wuxian squints. Primary outcomes. He remembers Lan Wangji’s lips form the words, can hear his voice enter his brain even if he doesn’t register it at the time. He parses the voice in his head, and offers Lan Qiren a dazzling smile.

“Let’s see,” he begins merrily, and glances around at Lan Wangji, keeping his eyes directly on him as he continues, “There were significantly better outcomes with the surgical approach in terms of 21 day all-cause mortality, hospital stay, incidence of hospital acquired infections, improvement in NIHSS indices at—”

“P values for all-cause mortality?”

Wei Wuxian lowers his gaze to Lan Wangji’s fingers, rewinding back to watching them aim his pointer at highlight sections of his slides. “0.002,” he says with a triumphant smirk, looking back at Lan Wangji’s face. Impassive to the untrained eye, but to Wei Wuxian? Those infinitesimally narrowed eyes, the tiniest flare of his nostrils, the slightest parting of his lips to exhale?

Lan Wangji looks impressed, if a little exasperated, maybe a little... proud? Well, that last bit was probably wrong, but it still sends a thrill down his spine and makes him want to keep going at any rate. Anything to make Lan Wangji look at him a little longer with that expression on his face. “0.03 for hospital stay, 0.021 for hospital acquired—”

“Enough,” snaps Lan Qiren. “Everyone, get back to the wards. Rounds in ten minutes.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a noise of relief as he springs into action. He is the first to leap out of his seat, ready to slink out before anyone—

“Wei Ying.”

No such luck. Lan Wangji is standing at the podium, looking blankly up at him. Wei Wuxian looks to either side, then back at him, mouthing “Who, me?”

When Lan Wangji doesn’t react, Wei Wuxian finally scratches the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly as he walks down the steps towards Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he says as he approaches him, “Sorry I was late today but I really did oversleep, it wasn’t personal—”

A stack of binders is unceremoniously shoved at his chest.

“Wait, wh—?”

“I’m doing a retrospective study on outcomes of transsphenoidal pituitary resection on echocardiographic and sleep study indices with Dr. Lan Qiren. He wants you to enter all the data here.”

Wei Wuxian balances the stack on his knee and pries open the first binder. It contains patient data. A lot of it. Dating back to 2002. He flips the pages in escalating horror.

“This—this!” he squawks. “They’re handwritten!”

“Yes,” says Lan Wangji calmly. “You need to enter them into a spreadsheet, then analyse the data, tabulate, complete with charts and graphs, and send them to Dr. Lan. By Friday.”

“Y-you! How dare you! I’m on call today!”

“Would you like to discuss the arrangements with Dr. Lan? He will be on his way to his office now.”

Wei Wuxian gapes, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, as Lan Wangji slides his laptop into his monogrammed Dior tote and breezes past him in a cloud of Jo Malone Orris & Sandalwood™.

*

The rest of the day passes in a blur, as most call days do. It’s seven p.m. when Wei Wuxian is scrubbing off in the theatre and abruptly realises he hasn’t eaten anything since the handful of rice crackers he’d stuffed in his mouth in the morning from the stash Yanli had brought him from her recent visit to Lanling to visit Jin Zixuan’s family.

Nie Huaisang is waiting for him outside. “That last case was such a pain to extubate,” he says with a delicate shudder and a flutter of eyelashes the moment he spots Wei Wuxian. “Don’t know what I would have done if the night shift guy hadn’t come to take over.”

“Waited five minutes longer to extubate him?”

Nie Huaisang squints at him, then points finger guns at him and breaks into a breathy laugh. Wei Wuxian can’t help laughing too. Nie Huaisang? Staying more than a second longer after his shift had officially ended?

“You’re funny,” Nie Huaisang smiles. “You know I am a firm proponent of the concept: not my shift anymore, not my fucking problem. Cafeteria?”

Wei Wuxian loops an arm around his friend’s shoulder and they set off for the staff cafeteria.

The cafeteria is empty save for two people Wei Wuxian is happy to see, and Jin Zixuan. “Jiejie!” he shouts as soon as he sees Yanli sitting a table between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng. He hurries up to them and sits down opposite his sister.

“A-xian, you look tired,” Yanli says, pushing her bowl of noodles towards him. “What time did you get out of the theatre?”

“Ten minutes ago,” Wei Wuxian pouts, dipping his chopsticks into the noodles and twirling them around. “Jiejie, I’ve had such a tough day! You won’t believe what happened this morning!”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic, idiot. Did Lan Qiren catch you napping in another seminar again?”

Wei Wuxian gives him a huff and clasps Yanli’s hands, making his best impression of the teary/pouty faced emoji at her.

Right on cue, Yanli almost visibly melts. “A-Cheng, don’t be mean,” she scolds gently. “What’s wrong, A-xian?”

Wei Wuxian can almost feel the exaggerated eye-roll from Jin Zixuan’s general direction, and pointedly ignores him. “Lan Zhan is making me analyse data for his study!”

“What?” says Jiang Cheng. “What the fuck did you do this time.”

“What did I do? Why is everything my fault?” Wei Wuxian says with a petulant whine, looking at Yanli.

“He was late to journal club this morning,” Nie Huaisang supplies, lifting his hands up in a placating gesture when Wei Wuxian directs a threatening look at him.

“Traitor! Look, it was only 5 minutes...”

“More like twenty.” Nie Huaisang mumbles from behind his fan. Wei Wuxian lets out a squawk of betrayal.

“Hush, boys. A-xian,” Yanli softens her voice, “Were you up late again last night? Lan Wangji probably wanted you to be there from the start of his session...” She exchanges a look with Jiang Cheng and smiles at Wei Wuxian, dimples forming at the corners of her lips. “Besides, I’m quite sure it was Lan Qiren who is responsible for you having to do the boring part of the work. Still, it’s an honour to work on one of his papers. He does tend to work only with his model students, like his nephews. You, though, I wonder...” She pauses, seemingly lost in thought.

“Bold of you to be ungrateful for Lan Qiren actually deigning to let you lay your paws on his paper,” Jin Zixuan mutters from the side.

“Bold of you to think there’s anything other than the fact that my sister’s marrying you stopping me from punching you in the face right now.”

“Hey, now,” Yanli says firmly, placing a hand on her fiancé’s arm. “Play nice.”

“It’s true Lan Wangji worked really hard on today’s presentation. He did stare a lot at the back seats at the start, you know...” Nie Huaisang peeks out from behind his hand fan, eyes heavy-lidded, looking into the distance. “Almost like he was looking for someone?”

Jiang Cheng rubs his temples. “Not again... Can’t believe you guys are still on your bullshit. It’s been—what, twenty years? Jiejie, do something before these morons turn my hair grey, please?”

“What bullshit?” exclaims Wei Wuxian. “I know not what bullshit you claim I partake of.”

Four pairs of eyes look at him in despair. Three of those pairs then fixate on the fourth.

Yanli sighs. “A-xian, why do you think Lan Wangji would be upset you didn’t show up to his presentation on time?”

“Upset? Um, he and his Dior tote looked like they were doing pretty okay this morning,” Wei Wuxian says, crossing his arms.

“Okay, look at it this way...” Yanli says patiently, “What if you worked really hard on a presentation and Lan Wangji showed up late?”

“Late? Come on, Lan Zhan and late are two words that do not go together. Do you know him at all? The man wakes up at 5 a.m. every day. In the dead of winter, too!”

He pictures Lan Zhan rushing into class and sneaking into the back seat, white coat rumpled and collar askew. It’s a funny picture. But he much prefers his Lan Zhan, who he knows he’ll find in his seat before he reaches the lecture hall himself for his own presentation, every single time, face impassive through his whole speech but listening carefully.

His Lan Zhan? Wait, what?

Belatedly, he realises his treacherous mouth has curved gently upwards in a small smile, and his eyes softened. He gives himself a shake.

This. This is why he’s known Lan Wangji since he was five years old but they’ve never really become best friends. He has always liked teasing him, and liked knowing that Lan Wangji can challenge him academically and that he can unsettle Lan Wangji in ways no one else can, but—class ends and they go their separate ways home and that’s about it. Because he always gets the feeling there is something there, beyond the occasional jabs and the mostly one-sided banter and the way Lan Wangji has tolerated his rambles and teasing all these years and how he has caught him looking at him sometimes with his eyes softer than he has ever seen them.

But whatever that is makes his heart clench painfully and beat a million miles an hour, and that can’t be good for you, can it? As a self-respecting neurosurgery resident he can’t ignore the symptoms of an imminent heart attack, can he?

The others come into focus. Yanli is looking despairingly at him.

“Ah, ah, I don’t know what’s gotten into you guys...” Wei Wuxian says. “You’re being so weird! Really, look at the time... Jin Zixuan, don’t you have any axes to sharpen? Any nails and hooks to screw into your patients?”

Jin Zixuan huffs a laugh. “What, before I have the honour to do up the screw loose in your head?”

“Oh, stop being children, will you?” says Yanli.

“See?” says Wei Wuxian triumphantly. “You’re acting like a child.”

“A-xian, I meant you too—”

“Whoops, will you look at the time!” Wei Wuxian says loudly over his sister’s voice, jumping to his feet. “Neurosurgery resident on call, can’t be wasting time chit-chatting now! See you!”

He jogs off towards the exit, waving exuberantly back at the four exasperated pairs of eyes on his back as he leaves.

*

Name, gender, age, race, BMI...

The words on the page bleed into each other as Wei Wuxian pores over them, fingers clacking at the keyboard as he types them up. The night is still young. He has taken a preliminary look at all the sicker patients in the ward so he broadly knows what to expect for the rest of the night, but he wants to get some of the work for Lan Qiren’s paper done before he takes more detailed rounds for the entire ward. His conversation with Lan Wangji earlier this morning has unexpectedly made him eager to actually finish the work by Friday because it really does look an impossible task and he wants to prove him wrong.

He freezes mid-stretch as the door to the call room opens and in floats a mildly sandalwood-laced scent that could only herald the entrance of one person. It’s almost eleven at night. He wonders why Lan Wangji has been working in the ward so late.

“Lan Zhan,” he says as Lan Wangji enters the room. “Ah, Lan Zhan—you really are cruel. I’ve been doing this for—let’s see, twenty minutes already and there’s still so much left!”

“Dramatic,” says Lan Wangji.

“Am I at least going to get credited when it finally gets published?” he whines, half-jokingly of course. Lan Qiren would sooner play dubstep in the operation theatre than name Wei Wuxian as a co-author in one of his papers.

The acerbic reply he expects from Lan Wangji does not come, so Wei Wuxian cranes his neck around to look at him. Oddly enough, Lan Wangji is looking straight at him. There’s a strange look on his face that Wei Wuxian can’t quite name.

He turns around at once and takes out his ridiculously expensive tote from his locker. “Dr. Lan will need,” he says at last, words coming rather stiff, “To be spoken to.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. Asking Lan Qiren to add his name to his cherished research—that’s a conversation no one would see him live to tell the tale of. “You’re funny, Lan Zhan. But will you ever start using your sense of humour for a purpose other than roasting me?”

“Boring,” Lan Wangji answers, and Wei Wuxian splutters in protest. “Bed 317 had some altered blood in his Ryle’s tube. His vitals are stable for now, but I called my brother to get an endoscopy and it was clear. I believe Jiang Cheng is first on call in gastroenterology tonight. The patient is on pantoprazole infusion in case, but if anything else happens you may need to call him.”

“Wait, hold on,” says Wei Wuxian. “317? That’s not even your patient. You should have told me, I would have taken care of it since I’m on call. Is that why you had to stay so late?”

Lan Wangji looks for a moment like he wants to answer. Then he seems to decide against it, striding out with his bag without another word and clicking the door shut behind him.

*

Wei Wuxian straightens up from the edge of his last patient’s bed, having perused the chart hung at the foot end. He twists from side to side, feeling a satisfying crack in his spine, and grins at the teenaged boy lying with half his head bandaged. “Looking good, Zizhen! Anything troubling you?”

“Your voice, giving me a headache,” Zizhen groans, rolling the one eye that wasn’t bandaged. “And you jumping around the ward from one bed to the other all night. You realise how much we dread your call nights? Maybe go home and catch some sleep, that’ll make us all happy.”

“Ah, now, don’t be rude—” his patient’s mother says, hurriedly, a look of embarrassment on your face.

“Aish, you kids are so ungrateful!” Wei Wuxian gasps in mock horror.

“What he means is you need some rest,” Zizhen’s mother smiles. “It’s nearly 3 in the afternoon and you’ve been in the ward practically non-stop since yesterday! Even the nurses have been talking about how you don’t sleep a wink on your night shifts.”

“Yeah, when was the last time you even ate?”

Wei Wuxian jumps at that; Lan Jingyi comes up from behind him carrying a bag of IV fluid in his gloved hands.

“Seriously,” he adds, almost to himself, as he comes in view of Wei Wuxian’s face. “You look like shit.”

“You kids just love bullying your poor uncle Wuxian!” Wei Wuxian wails, clutching his chest. “Fine, fine, I’m leaving.” He spins around with a dramatic swoosh of his white coat and makes to leave.

That is, till lights begin to flash and a alarm sounds out. Code blue, bed 323.

Without a second’s delay, Wei Wuxian springs to action: before the first alarm stops ringing, he’s already at bed 323.

Lan Wangji is already there at the head end of the bed, starting to ventilate the patient with the bag. It doesn’t look good. The patient is blue around the lips and at the tips of his fingers, and the ECG displays rapid, irregular rhythms with a heart rate well over 100. Lan Sizhui is in position, performing enthusiastic chest compressions.

A few other residents and nurses have gathered around, starting to load medications and review the patient’s charts. Lan Wangji looks directly at Wei Wuxian. “34 year old with TOF, presented with right MCA infarct with edema and midline shift, post-op day 2 was doing well with GCS 11, up from 6, sudden onset desaturation with tachycardia. Wen Chao was the resident in charge.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help the scowl that forms on his face at the name, and he can tell that Lan Wangji shares his emotions even if that wouldn’t be nearly as evident to anyone else. All these years of knowing and watching Lan Wangji have made Wei Wuxian be able to read the tiniest curl of his lip as the most vocal expression of disgust.

Wen Chao was notorious: a callous, entitled brat who was only accepted into the neurosurgery program because his whole family was on the board of directors of the university. He had zero sense of responsibility, was never present in the ward and always made his lackeys do any work that he deigned important enough to be done. Other residents had made it a point to review all his patients whenever they were on call so that at least someone knew what the hell was happening with them.

Wei Wuxian had seen this patient just last night during his shift and he had seemed okay. But still, the cold clutches of guilt permeate his chest—had he missed something?

“It was all abrupt in onset,” Lan Wangji says quietly, as though reading Wei Wuxian’s racing thoughts. “Seems to have been unavoidable. Suction was clear, ventilator functioning fine. Jin Ling, get the Echo machine bedside stat. Sizhui, switch.”

Wei Wuxian watches as Lan Wangji orchestrates the juniors effortlessly, having noticed Sizhui’s arms beginning to strain with the effort of his chest compressions even as he debriefed him and formulated a plan of action. He turns to Sizhui.

“Do we have a blood gas?”

“Here,” Sizhui pulls out a crumpled strip of paper from his coat pocket, and offers Wei Wuxian the blood gas report. Wei Wuxian goes over it, making quick calculations in his head.

Meanwhile, Lan Jingyi has set up the Echo machine bedside, and presses the probe to the patient’s chest.

“Apical four chamber view,” Lan Wangji commands, and Lan Jingyi complies. Wei Wuxian moves over next to Lan Wangji for a better view of the screen. As the chambers of the heart come into focus, pumping sluggishly, Wei Wuxian gasps and turns to look at Lan Wangji, just as Lan Wangji turns to look at him, eyes wide.

“The right atrium,” Wei Wuxian breathes, and Lan Wangji nods before he’s even uttered the words.

“What…?” says Lan Sizhui quickly.

Wei Wuxian turns to face the juniors. “Dilated right atrium and inferior vena cava, elevated A-a gradient on the blood gas, sinus tachycardia. It’s a pulmonary embolism.”

“Oh... of course,” says Jin Ling, eyes growing wide with dawning realisation. He turns to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. “We need to call cardiology!”

“It’ll be too late,” Wei Wuxian says, looking at the monitor and shaking his head as the patient’s blood pressure plummets. “Fine, call Wen Qing. Lan Zhan,” he adds, with a meaningful look at Lan Wangji. “We need to thrombolyse him right now!”

“W-Wen Qing?” says Lan Jingyi. “She’s Chief Registrar, do we really need to call her?”

Wen Qing was a bit of a legendary figure around the institute, one that ignited terror in new residents’ imaginations. She was one of the most brilliant doctors the university had ever produced, and also one of the strictest. Stories of her tough love techniques to teach her juniors were notorious around campus, and were repeated year after year to strike fear into the hearts of newly joined residents.

“Do as he says,” Lan Wangji cuts in, to Wei Wuxian’s surprise. He then turns to one of the nurses. “Load tenecteplase, please.”

Wei Wuxian inhales sharply. “Lan Zhan...” he said. Lan Wangji really trusted him to do something as daring, almost unauthorised as that? Thrombolysing patients was the domain of cardiologists or pulmonologists, not neurosurgeons. But he is confident of the theory as he knows Lan Wangji is too, and they have no time to waste. He watches as Lan Wangji gives him a tiny nod before turning to adjust the ventilator settings.

The nurse hands Wei Wuxian the syringe, and he stares at it for a split second—Lan Zhan really does trust him, doesn’t he? It makes him feel equal parts warm and light, like he could do anything in the universe as long as Lan Zhan just looked at him like that.

He secures the syringe to the patient’s IV catheter, looks up at Lan Wangji and keeps looking into his eyes as he pushes the drug in slowly. He’s almost too terrified to look at the monitor but looking at Lan Wangji is easier, somehow. Lan Wangji looks back at him steadily, only a few small tells that would be imperceptible to most people speaking to how he is nervous too—the parted lips, the rise and fall of his chest, the smallest crease between his eyebrows.

It’s going to be okay, though, he can’t help feeling as the syringe clicks, indicating the drug has all been delivered. With Lan Zhan here, trusting him and siding with him, nothing can really go wrong.

*

“Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Wei Ying.”

Is he dreaming? It’s been years since the last time he had that kind of dream involving Lan Wangji—he was going through puberty, don’t judge! Lan Wangji had just been there. Conveniently lean and long-limbed with pretty hair and pretty golden eyes and long, long fingers and also kind of a boring asshole, so don’t get it twisted. He only helped him realise he liked boy-shaped people, that was all there was to it.

Something brushes under his lower lip, something that feels too solid, too real. Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter open.

Lan Wangji springs away from him, standing up. Wei Wuxian is still too groggy to make sense of anything that is happening right now, but it is a fairly disconcerting set of movements from the ever graceful Lan Wangji.

His lips feel dry, so he licks them. Lan Wangji is watching him closely, and suddenly Wei Wuxian feels like he should look anywhere else but at him.

He also finds with a touch of distaste that a crusty trail of what was probably dried saliva from the corner of his lip. He looks down at his shirt. Did he drool all over it? It looks dry, surprisingly.

Lan Wangji has his arms crossed behind him, looking stiff as a board.

“Wei Ying,” he says after a moment, “You need to go home.”

“Shit,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, his voice cracking. How long has been asleep? He remembers looking at Lan Wangji over bed number 323 as his vitals stabilised after they thrombolysed him, heart rate lowering just as his own limbs started to feel loose, eyelids drooping lower and lower, standing upright starting to feel harder and harder—

He can’t remember getting here, though. Into the call room, lying on the bed, blanket drawn up to his chin. He blinks, still struggling to get his bearings.

“It’s nearly seven,” Lan Wangji says. “Let me drop you home.”

Wei Wuxian has been in the hospital for 34 hours straight. Why does he keep doing this again?

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head as the second part of Lan Wangji’s statement hits him. “Hah, Lan Zhan, I’m really fine, I’m not as delicate as th—”

He slings his legs over the side of the bed. (He can’t recall taking off his shoes, either.) His socked feet hit the floor and he makes to stand up—

Only for the room to spin around him and for him to stumble forward and sink—right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

So, this is happening.

Wei Wuxian swallows and blinks up. Straight into Lan Wangji’s eyes, golden brown and soft and ever so slightly wide, mere centimetres away from his. When did he even move to catch him? His arms are encircling his waist, their chests pressed together and when he breathes, Wei Wuxian can feel the tiniest puffs of air against his lips.

He realises at this moment he would be perfectly happy to flutter his eyes close again like a cartoon damsel in distress just to be able to sink deeper into Lan Wangji’s embrace, and the utter ridiculousness of that thought is enough to make him straighten up, gently pushing at Lan Wangji’s chest (rock hard chest, his traitorous brain supplies) till he is free from his arms.

“S-Sorry,” he says with a laugh, one that sounds too loud and too forced even to himself. “Don’t know what just happened there, man. You don’t need to worry, though. I’ll just call a cab!”

He spins around, making a great show of fiddling with his phone as he books a cab.

“Are you sure?” Lan Wangji asks quietly.

“Yeah, yeah!” says Wei Wuxian, definitely sounding too cheerful. Anything to get Lan Wangji out of the room and for his wildly racing heart to finally be able to slow down.

He should get an EKG, maybe schedule a Holter. Definitely get his thyroid checked. Because his cheeks feel hot and his stomach feels like it’s in knots and his heart won’t calm down and he needs to get to the bottom of it.

To make things worse, his cab cancels. The next one is twenty minutes away. Fuck rush hour. Fuck Lan Wangji for his stupid sandalwood-scented stupidly expensive cologne that is making his head feel foggier by the minute.

“How far away is it?” presses Lan Wangji. Did the guy really have no social life? Wait—he already knew the answer to that, and it was a resounding no.

“Twenty minutes,” Wei Wuxian mumbles finally.

Nothing could prepare him for Lan Wangji striding over, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, manhandling Wei Wuxian by the waist till he was attached to his side and dragging him off with him in a single smooth motion.

Well, that does it. Wei Wuxian watches helplessly as his feet move of their own accord side by side with Lan Wangji’s, hip knocking against the other’s every so often. They make it out of the call room, down the blessedly empty corridor and into the lift.

Wei Wuxian has still not spoken a single word. That’s new, he realises through the haze. He doesn’t think he’s spent so much time in silence ever before. Jiang Cheng would be proud.

Lan Wangji doesn’t let go of him even in the lift, holding him pressed to his side instead of letting him lean against the wall. His hand feels big and warm against his waist and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to feel anything besides the ghost of Lan Wangji’s fingers under his ribcage ever again. Wei Wuxian glances at him, but he’s looking straight ahead with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian whispers, and he doesn’t know why he says his name, because he clearly has no idea what to say next.

Lan Wangji ignores him, tightening his grasp on Wei Wuxian as the lift comes to a stop and they find themselves in the car park. Wei Wuxian is whisked away again, stopping only when they reach Lan Wangji’s unmistakeable snow-white Bentley.

Wei Wuxian begins to extricate himself, with a pang of something that feels like regret. He ascribes this to the lack of sleep, obviously. Why else would he want to stay pressed up against Lan Wangji longer than was absolutely necessary?

Lan Wangji is having none of it, though. He hitches Wei Wuxian closer to him, and walks him to the passenger side door. Opening the door with a click on his key, he tosses in his and Wei Wuxian’s bags into the back seat first. Then he helps Wei Wuxian inside with gentle hands, cradling his head so he wouldn’t knock it against the door.

Wei Wuxian sits in stunned silence as his door is closed, Lan Wangji crosses over to the driver seat in a couple of long strides, and gets inside. He watches dumbly as Lan Wangji leans over, long fingers finding the seatbelt, skin left tingling where they skimmed his chest as he is strapped in.

Lan Wangji starts to drive, and immediately Wei Wuxian is drawn to his fingers draped over the wheel as he lazily turns out of the car park. His eyes travel up Lan Wangji’s bare arm: his sweater today is cream in colour, and he has it rolled up till his elbows. The fine cashmere stretches wonderfully against his chest, and for a long moment Wei Wuxian is transfixed by the way his chest rises and falls.

Lan Wangji swallows then, the defined bob of his Adam’s apple drawing Wei Wuxian’s attention to his neck. He realises in some faraway corner of his brain labelled REASON in bold neon letters, that he is shamelessly checking him out. Checking Lan Wangji out.

The letters doesn’t seem to have the intended effect. He can psychoanalyse that later. Right now, he can’t look away from Lan Wangji’s neck, the sharp line of his jaw and his unexpectedly adorable nose. He wonders vaguely what would happen if he leaned over and booped it.

His chest fills with so much warmth at the thought that he finally has to look away. He finds he needs to do something, just to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t do or say anything stupid, so he reaches over to the music system and presses play.

Stirring notes of a single violin fill the car, and Wei Wuxian notices Lan Wangji grip the wheel tighter than he was before, face going rather pale.

“What song is this?” Wei Wuxian asks curiously. The tune is completely unfamiliar, but it’s beautiful. Whoever is playing the music seems to be pouring their heart and soul into it. As the song surges to a passionate, haunting crescendo, Wei Wuxian almost gasps at the intensity of emotion it makes him feel.

Unbidden, a memory buried deep inside his heart crawls its way to the surface. He is seventeen, and his foster parents have found the stash of gay magazines under his bed.

He has long forgotten the cruel words, the disappointment on his foster father’s face and the resounding smack of his foster mother’s palm against his cheek. It’s been a few years since they passed on, and he has made his peace with them.

But he remembers the sobs of his sister from the next room, and the way Jiang Cheng watched him silently leave the house through his cracked open bedroom door, pale and shaking. He remembers walking aimlessly down the streets till he found that his feet had carried him to a familiar place. School.

There was a strange calmness that had come over him as he walked through the corridors he knew so well, now bathed in moonlight. It had been a while before he realised there was a violin playing from somewhere on the upper floors.

The song was gorgeous, to say the least. Wei Wuxian had felt his raging emotions calm down, and the emptiness in his heart fill with something entirely new. At once, he felt like he had to know who was playing the music.

Running upstairs in the direction of the music, he had found himself at the door to the music room. There in the light of a solitary lamp had stood Lan Wangji, playing his violin.

He was noticed soon enough, and when the music stopped and Lan Wangji turned to look at him, he had blurted out: “Don’t stop.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji had said, stepping towards him, eyebrows knitted in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Wei Wuxian had walked closer, sinking onto a stool next to him. “Just keep playing,” he had said. “Please?”

Lan Wangji had faltered only a moment before nodding, eyebrows still furrowed. He had taken up his bow and resumed playing then, eyes never leaving Wei Wuxian’s face.

Nine years later, Lan Wangji avoids his gaze. One hand on the steering wheel, he reaches for the stereo and stops the music and never answers Wei Wuxian’s question.

*

Next morning, Wei Wuxian is sliding out of bed after an unusually long night’s rest, ready to go to work when an email from their neurosurgery office lights up his phone.

Request for leave of absence registered at 5:04 a.m. Kindly mail the reason for your absence with a copy of a medical certificate enclosed within one week of joining back. We wish you a speedy recovery.

Wait, what?

He calls the office. A sleepy voice answers.

“Hi, you’ve reached neurosurgery. How may I—?”

“It’s Wei Wuxian. I didn’t register a request for leave of absence. What’s going on?”

“You did, though?” Wei Wuxian can hear keys clicking on the other end of the call. “Ah, here you go—there’s the request. Oh, but wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t send it.”

“Precisely what I was saying!” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “So I’ll be coming in at—”

“No,” the secretary cuts him short. “You didn’t send the mail, but Lan Wangji did.”

“Lan Zhan?”

“Yeah, here it is. [email protected]. Sent at 5:04 a.m. today”

“Of course it’s him. Who else would be sending emails at five in the fucking morning?” He huffs, half to himself. Lan Wangji must have sent the mail within four minutes of waking up, he realises. He finds himself half-amused, half-endeared.

He hangs up, and calls Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he says when he answers. “What were you doing four minutes after waking up today?”

There is a pause. “Wei Ying, you’re not going to work today.”

“I’m fine, Lan Zhan.”

“You passed out last night. Twice.”

“Details, details,” Wei Wuxian says airily.

“In any case, it’s done. I’ll tell my uncle in person before rounds.”

“Lan Zhan!” he splutters.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice is firm. “Go back to sleep.”

Before Wei Wuxian can protest any further, the call ends.

*

In the evening, Wei Wuxian grudgingly accepts the day off had done him a world of good. He had gone back to sleep for a full seven hours and woken without an alarm at two in the afternoon, making up for the deficit from his last shift. After lunch and a couple of hours of studying, he had even gone for a ten kilometre run around the neighbourhood.

He starts feeling antsy as the evening progresses, missing his usual routine of rounds, outpatients, surgery and patient records. By eight o’clock, he caves and scrolls down his contacts to Lan Wangji’s number.

hi, back from work? how are my patients?

Ten seconds later, his phone rings. It’s Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he answers.

“How are you?”

“Alive and kicking,” Wei Wuxian says. He leans back against the headboard of his bed, swirling around the glass of Emperor’s Smile in his hand. “Tell me about my patients!”

“It’s still your day off,” Lan Wangji replies. “You’ll see your patients tomorrow.”

“Lan Zhan, stop being mean!” He kicks his heels playfully on the mattress. “At least tell me how Zizhen’s physiotherapy went?”

Lan Wangji sighs. “It went well. His power in his left thigh has improved to 4/5.”

“That’s great,” Wei Wuxian smiles to himself. “Is he still being an overdramatic brat, though?”

“More than ever.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “How was your day, Lan Zhan?” His voice sounds relaxed and soft through the phone. Wei Wuxian wants him to keep talking just like this.

“Wei Ying, we still have to finish Dr. Lan’s data analysis.”

“Here you go ruining the mood again, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines. He ignores the twinge in his chest at the word we. It makes him feel like they’re a team, even if that was probably the last thing Lan Wangji would willingly do.

But the work was supposed to be his sole burden to bear, wasn’t it? The traitorous voice in his head pipes up again. So why would Lan Wangji offer to share it?

“I’m going to dictate the data to you,” Lan Wangji goes on. “Get your laptop.”

“I thought it was my day off,” Wei Wuxian says with a petulant sigh but he leans over to plug in his laptop. “So bossy.”

“I’m going to start now.”

“Wait, wait.” Wei Wuxian sighs, opening up the spreadsheet he’d started entering the data into. “Okay, go.”

“Patient ID: 20190013567, male, 28, date of surgery—27th June, 2019, diagnosis: microadenoma...”

Wei Wuxian types as Lan Wangji goes on, lying flat on his stomach with his laptop in front of him, legs folded up at the knees, ankles crossed and swinging from side to side in the air. He takes a swig of his drink from time to time.

It’s mindless work, and his brain wanders. Lan Zhan’s voice is low and steady, just as always. He thinks about Lan Zhan, probably sitting straight upright at his desk. He wonders if he still has that bunny printed throw over his bed. His heart clenches at the thought.

So many things change but somehow through them all, Lan Wangji has always stayed the same. Never quite best friends, never quite rivals, but just there. Making things interesting in class because he was the only other person at his level. His equal in every way. Challenging him, questioning him, disagreeing with him, often arguing but ultimately, inspiring him to do better.

“Lan Zhan,” he says out loud suddenly, without thinking, “What are you wearing?”

There is a long pause. Wei Wuxian feels like his head is spinning—he must be drunk, that’s clearly the only reason those words left his lips, because so what if he only had half a drink so far? There’s no other conceivable explanation for saying that out loud, and definitely not for still waiting for a reply without rescinding his words like they were a ridiculous, laughable mistake—

And it’s not that kind of a question, either, he only wants to have a clearer picture of Lan Zhan in his head as he talks to him. He is bored and he wants something to think about, that’s all there is to it.

After what feels like an eternity, Lan Wangji speaks. “Ridiculous...” There is another long pause after that. Wei Wuxian hears him breathe in and out through the phone and doesn’t feel the urge to break the silence.

“Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian pouts. What is he actually doing? “So selfish. I’m wearing my black Avengers tee and red gym shorts. See? That’s wasn’t so hard.”

A beat. “White shirt and blue pants,” Lan Wangji replies stiffly. Then, before Wei Wuxian could wrap his head around the fact that Lan Wangji had answered him, he continues. “Patient ID: 20190013592...”

White shirt and blue pants, huh? Wei Wuxian suppresses a snort. That was about as specific as calling Nie Huaisang’s eclectic collection of hand fans just fans, and not categorised by year, artist, design, material and place of origin.

Well if that’s all Lan Wangji gave him to work with, that’s what he’ll work with. He thinks about Lan Wangji seated at his desk in his white shirt and blue pants. Perhaps wearing glasses. He’s home from work, so maybe he has one button open? Maybe... just maybe, two?

Wei Wuxian feels a warmth in his chest spreading over, down to the pit of his stomach. The warmth doesn’t stop there. It permeates, spreading its tendrils relentlessly lower.

His phone beeps then. Nie Huaisang has texted him. Lan Wangji’s name in the preview of the text grabs his attention, so he opens it at once.

Nie Huaisang (20:11) ummmmmm what’s going on w/ u and lan wangji?

what do u mean, Wei Wuxian replies.

Nie Huaisang (20:13) are u serious rn? the whole of ward 3A can’t stop talking about it. the number of times i had to head from other ppl talking about how lan wangji princess carried my friend to the call room i s2g!!! princess carried!!! i thought i was ur friend!!!

Wait, what? Hold. On. He never capitalises his texts. Shit was definitely getting real.

Nie Huaisang (20:14): stop playing dude he literally caught u as u pretty much fainted in front of that patient u revived... and then he just put his hand on ur butt and flipped u up into his arms like u were an oversized pancake and apparently it was super effortless and ppl are saying lan wangji must definitely lift :000

Wei Wuxian has to throw the phone a few feet across the bed. Lan Wangji’s voice continues from the speaker, still diligently dictating. Wei Wuxian has stopped typing long ago.

Lan Wangji held him as he fell. Lan Wangji placed his hand on his ass. Lan Wangji lifted him into his arms with ease. Lan Wangji princess carried him into the call room. Lan Wangji took off his shoes and tucked him into bed.

Why, why can’t he remember any of it? He grabs his phone in despair and opens Lan Wangji’s instagram. He bites down a frustrated whine as he scrolls through the random aesthetic shots of the city and occasional rabbits. Why can’t he just post cute selfies and thirst traps like a normal person?

He finds a few photos scattered in the midst, mostly artsy shots taken from slightly inconvenient angles, but they’ll have to do. He singles out one photo of the profile of his face, one of his right arm, traversed by shadows and one photo taken from above of him looking at the camera with his top two shirt buttons undone.

He pictures it immediately, his previous vision of white shirt, blue jeans Lan Wangji now several times clearer to include himself, in his arms. He closes his eyes. Tries to picture Lan Wangji’s hand on his ass. Opens his eyes, scrolls to the picture of his arm. God, he has the longest fingers.

He draws himself up on his elbows to bring himself closer to the phone. In doing so, his pelvis drags against the mattress and he comes to a mortifying realisation. He’s hard, and holy fuck, that friction felt good.

He is drunk. That is a perfectly valid excuse for what he is about to do. He pointedly ignores the fact that his bottle of Emperor’s Smile is nearly full, lying forgotten at the side of the bed, and pulls down his shorts.

Lan Wangji’s voice floats in through the speakers. He isn’t taking advantage, okay? Well, maybe a little. Lan Wangi never has to know, though. Wei Wuxian is just a little drunk, and horny beyond belief.

Just for a few minutes more.

Wei Wuxian palms his ass, eyes closed, thinking about Lan Wangji holding him there in front of the entire ward. Imagines Lan Wangji pinching his skin, and looks back at his own hands stroking himself. He is admittedly proud of his ass, and he bites down a moan as he thinks of Lan Wangji taking his time, massaging the perky, round curve of his ass.

Lan Wangji’s voice is as low and steady as ever, and Wei Wuxian imagines how it would feel laced with an edge of lust. Pleasure pools deep inside him, the thrill of Lan Wangji on the other side of the phone line multiplying it manifold. “Shameless,” Lan Wangji has told him so many times, but this time Wei Wuxian hears it with a self-indulgent edge of desire and maybe a hint of sadism. In his mind, he’s splayed out across a fully clothed Lan Wangji’s lap, ass in the air and exposed for him to play with.

The image is so arousing that he nearly starts to rut against the mattress at once. Impressively, he reaches for his phone, breathes, “Got to go, Lan Zhan, lets do the rest tomorrow,” and tosses it back down even as he grapples for the lube he keeps in bedside drawer with the other hand.

“Lan Zhan,” he allows himself to moan at last, as he coats his fingers liberally and strokes around his opening. In his head, Lan Wangji strikes the skin of his ass with a resounding slap. “Ah, Lan Zhan...”

He slips in a finger through the tight ring of muscle, whining lewdly as he did so. He wonders if the noise would turn Lan Wangji on. In his mind it does, and Lan Wangji manhandles him till he’s lying on his stomach and enters him in one smooth stroke.

He pictures Lan Wangji kneeling over him, restraining his hands behind his back as he pounds into him. He slips in another finger, scissoring them inside of him, thrusting back and forth wildly as the Lan Wangji in his head wrecks him thoroughly.

His other hand finds his nipples, pinching and twisting them between his fingers till they are almost painful. “Nnn... Lan Zhan...” He thinks of Lan Zhan holding him when he stumbled, and Lan Zhan gently strapping on his seatbelt. Maybe he would lick his nipples in apology, kissing up his chest to find his lips.

All this, and the thought of Lan Wangji kissing his lips is what brings him closest to the edge. He adds in a third finger now, then a fourth, fucking steadily into himself as he imagines being kissed by Lan Wangji. Long fingers holding his face. Soft, plush lips moving tenderly against his own. All the while with Lan Wangji hammering into him, mirroring his own fingers as they reached deep inside, grazing an area that lights his insides on fire with every stroke.

The memory of Lan Wangji holding him when he fell, his face close enough to his own that he could feel his breath on his lips, bursts suddenly into his head as clear as the real thing. He grabs his cock with his other hand, tugging wildly for a few minutes till he finally arches up into his hand, shouting “Lan Zhan!” as he sees stars behind his eyes and comes all over his mattress.

Slumped over his elbows, the first thing he feels is loss. The loss of his fingers slipping out from inside him. The low following that intense, uninhibited high. The reality that Lan Wangji isn’t here in his bed. Will never be here in his bed.

He blinks away the sudden wetness behind his eyes, and gets up to walk to the bathroom.

Stupid, stupid.

Like most other things, Wei Wuxian decides he will deal with this in the morning.

He doesn’t notice the screen of his phone glowing steadily all the while, flashing Lan Zhan and 46:23 below, just before it abruptly goes: call ended, and then dark.

*

Morning comes, and unsurprisingly, Wei Wuxian does not deal with it.

He makes his way to work and takes his morning rounds. He notices his patients look at him with concern, and starts to smile more. He hopes it reaches his eyes, but with the way Sizhui and Jingyi look at him, he suspect it doesn’t really.

Lan Wangji is on an ICU shift today, blessedly, making up for Wen Chao’s absence as usual. Nie Huaisang doesn’t press him for more information either, after a moment of studying him from behind his fan and deciding that he’d let him talk when he was ready. And so as the day goes on, Wei Wuxian manages to fold up the incident from last night into a tinier and tinier corner of his heart till he can almost pretend that he is okay.

He is accompanying a patient out of surgery and into recovery that afternoon when he hears rolling wheels and clatter of what sounds like heels hurrying down the corridor beyond the next turn.

He turns the corner and finds Wen Qing running, face contorted with worry, by the side of a trolley being rushed towards the theatre.

“Wen Qing?” Wei Wuxian calls in surprise.

“Wei Wuxian!” she shouts, and runs towards him. “Wen Ning... Wen Ning... he—” She is hyperventilating, tears flowing thick and heavy down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” says Wei Wuxian, reaching out for her shoulder. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The trolley is wheeled past him, Wen Ning lying with his face drained of colour, already intubated. The monitor shows such a sluggish but steady heart rate. He turns back to Wen Qing, cold fear gripping his heart.

“I don’t know,” she says, usually calm and sharp voice now broken and ragged, “I just... I just found him lying on the floor when I came home after my night shift. It’s been just 15 minutes since I found him... H-he was unresponsive, gasping, b-bradycardic. Wei Wuxian,” she gasps, eyes wide and manic, gripping the front of his shirt. “Y-You have to do something.”

Wei Wuxian pats her head, and says. “I’ll do my best, Wen Qing. You need to stay strong. Any previous medical history? Any signs of trauma?”

“No... no,” Wen Qing says, and she lets out a broken sob. “I’m only strong because of A-Ning,” she whispers, and buries her face against her hands lying on Wei Wuxian’s chest. “Please, not my baby brother, I can’t lose my baby brother,” she whimpers as her tears overflow, drenching Wei Wuxian’s shirt.

Wei Wuxian draws her close, letting her cry. His mind is racing already, parsing through the possibilities. Suddenly, he hears footsteps round the corner.

It’s Lan Wangji. He stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees them, and before Wei Wuxian can react, his eyes grow dark and his face twists with an unreadable emotion. “Lan Zhan!” he cries, but he has already retraced his steps and disappeared beyond the bend.

“Sorry,” Wen Qing says, face falling when she realises she’s cried all over Wei Wuxian’s shirt. “Sorry, I’ll just...”

 “It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian says. “Come with me,” he says with a hand on her back to steady her as he leads her towards the theatre.

Sizhui is waiting at the entrance, phone in hand. “I was just about to call you!” he says with a sign of relief. “We have a new patient.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “Make sure she’s okay, will you?” he says, helping Wen Qing to a seat. “And scrub in when you can.”

He rushes to the trolley, assessing the vitals displayed on the monitor.

“500cc Ringer lactate in already, second ongoing,” Jingyi tells him. “Tox screen negative, blood gas unremarkable besides some carbon dioxide retention. He’s probably been unconscious a while.”

“Any signs of trauma?”

“None,” Jin Ling answers, peeling off the gloves he had just used to examine Wen Ning.

“Pupils?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Responsive, but sluggish.”

“Eye position?”

“Um...”

Wei Wuxian makes a noise of frustration and goes to check. Wen Ning’s pupils are glassy and unmoving, displaced towards his nose.

He asks the next question because he’s dreading the answer, couldn’t bear to see it with his own eyes. “GCS.”

No one answers him for a while. “GCS,” he says again, louder, and the juniors flinch.

“4,” Jin Ling answers at last, not making eye contact.

Wei Wuxian feels his heart sink to the floor. He rushes to Wen Ning’s side, rubs his knuckles deep into his chest, praying for any movement, anything to suggest there was still hope.

His fists move the slightest amount inward, more from the way Wei Wuxian is rocking the trolley with his attempts to wake him. He realises his juniors have been kind to tell him it’s 4, when really the complete lack of movement makes it more like a 3, the lowest score possible on the coma scale. In other words, he is probably brain dead already and there is no way back now.

He looks up in despair at the juniors, willing them to say anything that would change the terrible reality of what he could see before him. Then he suddenly sees Lan Wangji, over the top of the interns’ heads as he walks into the room “Lan Zhan...” he finds himself saying, voice breaking.

Lan Wangji walks up towards him at once, the interns making way for him. “Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Do you know it was his birthday two days ago? He told me in the morning himself, but I was late for class, and I was so distracted I forgot to wish him even then. What do I do, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan pries him away from the trolley, palms warm against his shoulders. Then he coolly turns to the ventilator, adjusting it to supply 100% oxygen through the tube leading into Wen Ning’s windpipe, before abruptly switching the mode. The ventilator stops giving breaths to Wen Ning and the others gasp collectively.

“Is that—”

“But, Lan Wangji—”

Everyone in the room watches with bated breath as Wen Ning lies motionless. Then, miraculously, the screen on the ventilator machine comes to life.

“That’s a breath,” Wei Wuxian gasps, clutching Lan Wangji’s arm. He points at the saw-tooth shaped line traced by the machine. “Wen Ning just took a breath.”

Lan Wangji looks at him, and nods. “We need to hurry,” he says to him, and resets the ventilator to the original mode. “Sizhui, Jingyi, Jin Ling. Stabilise him. He’s negative for the apnea test, so we still have time. Get a CT scan stat and prep him for surgery. And read up the Lancet paper from July on how patients with a negative apnea test have been salvaged with surgery, even if the GCS is lower than the current acceptable cut-off to take a patient up for surgery.” Then he takes Wei Wuxian by the hand leads him out of the room, and breaks into a run.

Wei Wuxian runs with him, hand firmly in Lan Wangji’s, watching him as they fly past corridor after corridor and up the stairs. There he is again. Lan Wangji, standing by his side when no one else would.

He doesn’t realise they’ve reached Lan Qiren’s office till they come to a halt in front of his door. Lan Wangji knocks.

“Enter,” says Lan Qiren from within.

Lan Wangji pushes open the door, pulling Wei Wuxian in to stand by his side. He doesn’t waste any time. “Dr Lan, you may have heard of the latest admission.”

Lan Qiren’s sharp eyes travel from Lan Wangji to fall on Wei Wuxian. His face settles into the usual disgruntled expression he wears when he sees Wei Wuxian.

“Yes,” he says. “Wen Qing’s brother. The veterinary student.”

“He’s possibly hemorrhaged. We’ve ordered a CT scan. His GCS is 4, but he is doll’s eye negative, negative also for apnea test so there’s no evidence his brainstem has herniated yet—”

“Lan Wangji!” roars his uncle. Wei Wuxian flinches, and looks sideways at Lan Wangji. He has bowed his head immediately, face devoid of emotion. “You take me for a fool? Trying to distract me into allowing a GCS 4 onto my OT table?”

“Uncle—” Lan Wangji starts, head still lowered.

“Silence!” shouts Lan Qiren. “My god, Wangji, look at you! You’ve never argued like this before. And it’s him again,” he says, lips curling as he looks at Wei Wuxian. “First you beg me into allowing him to take part in my study, and now this!”

Beg me into allowing him? Wei Wuxian’s heart thumps painfully against his ribs. Was Lan Wangji the one who made Lan Qiren allowing him to take part in his study, even if was just to do the boring data parts? Did he really mean he would talk to Lan Qiren himself to let Wei Wuxian be credited on his paper?

“There’s a new study,” Lan Wangji presses, still almost bent over double. “Lancet, this July. Wen Ning reached the hospital only twenty minutes ago, and the window period is an hour. They have found favourable results with surgery if done within an hour independent of baseline GCS.”

“Out,” Lan Qiren says, shaking in anger. “Before I strike your name off my paper too.”

Lan Wangji stiffens, and then stands up straight. Then he bows again deeply. “Please feel free to do so,” he says, and he takes Wei Wuxian by the arm and leads him out of the office.

Lan Wangji doesn’t let go of him as they walk back down the corridor in silence. Wei Wuxian’s chest hurts unbearably to look at him—this incredible, wonderful, darling man who really would risk it all for him—but he wills himself to think straight.

Then it hits him.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, and inexplicably, laughs. It’s a ridiculous idea, so utterly out of whack that he can’t help it. “The abandoned orthopaedics OT.”

Lan Wangji gives him a look. A wide eyed look that suddenly morphs into something softer—he doesn’t dare to think it, but it seems almost fond. And then the most miraculous thing happens.

“Mn,” says Lan Wangji.

“Really?” says Wei Wuxian. “Well, I mean, there’s nothing stopping us, is there? It’s still functional, after all, it’s just been replaced by the one in the new orthopaedics block.”

“Nie Mingjue.”

Wei Wuxian winces. Nie Huaisang’s older brother is the youngest Chief of orthopaedics in the history of their hospital and also one of the most terrifying. Of course, every resource belonging to the department is under his name.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian shrugs, laughing nervously and scratching the back of his neck. “He doesn’t really have to know, does he? I’m pretty sure he has much more pressing matters to attend to. Lan Zhan, you know you want to.”

Lan Wangji sighs. Then he nods. Minutes later, they are back where they had left Wen Ning and the juniors.

“CT scan,” Wei Wuxian orders as he strides in, and Sizhui points promptly at the console where the images are open. Wei Wuxian sits on the chair in front of him, peering closely at the screen, Lan Wangji standing next to him.

There is a bleed, which comes as no surprise. It is surprisingly not that large, but there is a large amount of edema fluid accumulated around it, causing pressure to build up inside Wen Ning’s brain and lead to his unconsciousness. Wei Wuxian looks up at Lan Zhan. They nod at each other.

Wei Wuxian gets to his feet, briefly scanning the room to make sure he can trust everyone inside. Then he tells his stunned audience, “Wheel him into OT 7 on the 3rd floor. Call Nie Huaisang and tell him to induce anaesthesia. Lan Zhan and I are scrubbing in.”

“OT 7?”

“Is that really...?”

“Can we actually—”

“Lan Wangji—”

“Do as he says,” Lan Wangji orders, and a warm feeling blooms in Wei Wuxian’s chest. “Come on,” he tells Wei Wuxian, and they make their way to the OT.

It’s almost evening now, and the last rays of the setting sun bathe the corridors in warm golden light as they walk to the abandoned wing of the hospital. Wei Wuxian is still all too aware of Lan Wangji walking next to him, a solid, unwavering presence but now somehow laced with an edge of something different, something that seems dangerously close to what had terrified him before. Whatever it was that made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest and race a million time faster.

He wonders briefly what it would be like to just step off the precipice.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, suddenly remembering. “What did your uncle mean when he said you begged him to let me take part in his research?”

Lan Wangji almost falters in his tracks, but he does not answer.

“Was that true? Lan Zhan... Why would you?”

Lan Wangji remains silent so long that Wei Wuxian almost gives up on ever getting a reply. Then he says, “It was your idea.”

“What?”

“Our first year. You had a patient with a pituitary microadenoma. Dr. Lan was angry when he found out you had ordered a sleep study for the patient on follow-up because he thought it was unnecessary.”

It takes Wei Wuxian a moment. “But that was so long ago,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Lan Wangji really remembered? Lan Qiren had grown even angrier when Wei Wuxian had tried to justify himself, explaining why he thought there could be a possible correlation with the success of the surgery.

“Months later, he asked me to review the existing literature on the subject. I found some small studies from other countries that had positive results. That’s when he decided to start doing this project.”

“Even so, Lan Zhan, asking Lan Qiren to let me take part in his research is...” Wei Wuxian stares at him. “It’s suicide!”

“It was... the right thing to do.” Lan Wangji looks calmly back at him. “Dr. Lan must have felt the same too, which is why he eventually relented.”

“Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian says. He feels oddly flustered. That Lan Wangji would remember a passing altercation during rounds a year ago, then risk his uncle’s wrath only to give Wei Wuxian what he felt he deserved—it’s too much. Being alone with him right now is too much. He quickens his pace.

Jin Zixuan is waiting outside the old operating room with a key. He gives Lan Wangji a once-over and a sorry shake of the head, and ignores Wei Wuxian entirely. “The theatre is actually still sterile and perfectly usable, we get it fumigated regularly,” he says as he hands Lan Wangji the key. “Some of the anaesthesia station machines are pretty old, but I’m sure Huaisang can find a way to work around that.” His expression shifts to a more pitying one, and he sighs as his eyes travel from Wei Wuxian and back to Lan Wangji. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Lan Wangji nods, and take the keys from him.

Once they have changed into their scrubs and washed up in preparation for surgery, Lan Wangji comes to sit next to Wei Wuxian in the doctor’s room. Wei Wuxian is staring at his hands. He can feel Wen Qing’s shoulder shaking against his palm as she sobbed in his arms.

“Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, “Can we really do this? You know, if this doesn’t work out, I don’t know how I’ll ever look Wen Qing in the face again... Good thing I’ll probably be thrown out of the program, though, so I won’t have to break the news to her. I’ll tell them you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and that you and the juniors had nothing to do with any of this, of course, but—”

“That won’t happen.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, play me a song? Your violin playing always calms me down, you know.”

Lan Wangji sighs, and pulls out his phone. Moments later, a haunting, passionate melody on a violin begins to play.

“This is the same song that played in the car that day,” Wei Wuxian breathes. It cascades and builds steadily to fill him with a rousing, heart-stirring emotion that makes him feel like the music is speaking real words of love and longing to him.

Lan Wangji is looking at him, eyes filled with something Wei Wuxian can’t quite name. Is it sadness? Wei Wuxian tears his eyes away because all at once that expression makes his heart clench painfully, excruciatingly so.

“What’s the song called?” he asks, desperate to see anything other than that terrible, awful emotion on Lan Zhan’s face. “Who is it by?”

He thinks he knows the answer before the words leave his lips, before Lan Wangji answers briefly. “I wrote it.”

“What is it called?” he presses, consumed suddenly with a need to know.

Abruptly, the music stops. Lan Zhan gets up and stows his phone away in his bag. “Let’s review the CT scans,” he says.

Things start happening then, and Wei Wuxian springs into action. This is his element, and it is a welcome relief from the intense pain coiling in the pit of his stomach.

The juniors wheel Wen Ning into the theatre, IV access and leads in place. Nie Huaisang is in the background, somehow orchestrating the entire preparations while still managing to huff and sigh and motion most indiscreetly to Wei Wuxian about how he is definitely coming back as an angry ghost to haunt him if his brother Nie Mingjue found out about them using his old operating room.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji review the scans. Lan Wangji trails a long finger down the length of the oval area delineating the haemorrhage in Wen Ning’s frontal lobe. Wei Wuxian makes some quick calculations. “It’s around 13 cc in volume,” he says and Lan Wangji nods.

As they map out the surgical approach, shoulders bumping together as they pore over the images, the painful coil in Wei Wuxian’s stomach begins to unfold again. He wants to bend over double because the ache is so stark and real he physically cannot take it. He wants Lan Wangji.

He wants Lan Wangji just like this, next to him, challenging him and listening to him and working out a middle ground. He wants Lan Wangji, soft hands taking off his shoes and fixing his seatbelt for him. This must be what lay beyond the precipice, and he thinks maybe it doesn’t terrify him anymore.

He thinks he has wanted Lan Wangji for a long, long time.

“Wei Ying?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Wei Wuxian replies. He looks over at Wen Ning’s still form, chest moving only from the breaths supplied by the ventilator. “Let’s go.”

Wei Wuxian takes the lead. Lan Wangji stands by him, retracting the bone and muscle as Wei Wuxian probes inside. Wei Wuxian has never operated with Lan Wangji before, being from different surgical teams within their department. But they work seamlessly from the very beginning, observing each other and wordlessly communicating, handing instruments to each other without needing to ask.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian knows what is coming next. Lan Wangji is holding out a suction catheter. Wei Wuxian looks at his unmoving face, steels himself and nods as he takes the catheter to evacuate the clot in Wen Ning’s brain.

And just like that, it ends. The operating room erupts in claps from the interns. Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, catheter held loosely in his hand as waves of relief wash over him. Lan Wangji takes the catheter from him and let Wei Wuxian crumple where he stands, shoulders drooping as though a giant weight was just lifted off them. Wei Wuxian watches as Lan Wangji begins to swiftly suture the wound with deft hands without a word.

They leave Nie Huaisang and the interns to finish up the rest, clean up and take Wen Ning to the ICU for post-operative monitoring. Wei Wuxian tosses his gloves, mask and surgical mask into the waste bin, and heads to the restroom. At the back of his mind he knows he has forgotten to bring his change of clothes inside with him, but a small voice in his head tells him it’ll he fine.

He strips off his scrubs when he is inside one of the cubicles and turns on the shower, temperature set to the hottest setting. He groans, propping himself against the cool tiles as he arches his back and feels the steaming jets of water batter against his sore muscles in the most satisfying way.

He is in there for a long time. Long enough for Nie Huaisang and the interns to be long gone with Wen Ning, operating room scrubbed clean of most of the evidence of today’s activities. He dries himself and wraps the towel around his waist, because he had forgotten to bring his clothes inside. He wonders if Lan Wangji is waiting outside. Well, that couldn’t be helped, could it?

Excitement pools low in his belly as he exits the cubicle. Sure enough, Lan Wangji is sitting at the desk, finishing up the operation notes. He has changed into a cream polo shirt and blue jeans and is freshly showered too, long hair wet and hanging loosely over his shoulders. He looks up when Wei Wuxian walks out.

Wei Wuxian stands still on the opposite side of the room from Lan Wangji, who has frozen in his place. From the swivelling chair he is sitting on he stares at Wei Wuxian, but he cannot quite meet his eyes.

No—Wei Wuxian notes with a fresh jolt of electricity shooting down his spine, Lan Wangji’s eyes are on his chest. Glancing down, he is glad he didn’t dry himself too well. Was that a conscious or subconscious decision? He can’t bring himself to think any more about it because there is a drop of water making its way down his left nipple and Lan Wangji seems to be transfixed by it.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers hoarsely as Lan Wangji’s eyes widen ever so slightly as they travel lower down his abdomen. He wonders if his voice sounds as needy as he feels. He is shocked by the way he craves Lan Wangji now. Would do anything right now in a heartbeat to feel Lan Wangji on him, against him, inside him, around him.

Lan Wangji turns abruptly and swivels the chair around. Wei Wuxian is immediately met with a sense of loss as the heat of his gaze that had seemed to be branding his skin, marking him even from so far away, leaves him suddenly. And that just won’t do, he decides.

He walks up to Lan Wangji, noting how the tips of his ears have turned pink. Did he do that to him? He is struck with an almost childlike curiosity as he reaches out and touches it, impossibly endeared.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji says, voice sounding strained.

Wei Wuxian tells himself it is the adrenaline. They successfully operated on Wen Ning together, it gave him a rush, and he’s high on the adrenaline. It can have physiological effects on the body that are almost close to being drunk, after all. So that is all this is.

He takes Lan Wangji’s hand. It’s big against his own, his fingers longer and slimmer. His ears are still pink. What else could Wei Wuxian do to make him turn pink in other places, he wonders?

He strokes Lan Wangji’s palm with his thumb, pleased to hear a strangled gasp escape Lan Wangji. He plays with his fingers, twisting them around between his one, massaging his knuckles. Then he suddenly pulls his hand up by the wrist, leans forward and puts the tip of his index finger in his mouth.

Lan Wangji is breathing faster, he notices with delight as he suckles the tip of his finger lightly. He keeps his eyes directly in contact with Lan Wangji’s as he starts to lap at the base of his finger with his tongue.

Shameless he truly is, like Lan Wangji has told him so many times. And he would do so, so much more just to see him blush and writhe and lose control on him.

“Lan Zhan,” he breathes again, and his voice seems to trigger something in Lan Wangji. His eyes squeeze shut and he suddenly jerks his hand back away from Wei Wuxian. The simple motion makes Wei Wuxian feel like he is suddenly a million miles away.

He watches as Lan Wangji gets up, pushes past him and grabs his bag. The line of his mouth is pressed tight, but his eyes are heavy with some inscrutable emotion that Wei Wuxian cannot put a name to, but he feels like he mirrors in his heart.

In moments, he has strode towards the door and walked out, leaving Wei Wuxian colder and emptier than he can ever remember feeling.

*

Wei Wuxian waits on the bench outside the paediatrics block, thinking about nothing and everything. His phone hangs loosely from his fingers. He has swiped his phone open, scrolled to Lan Wangji’s contact, finger hovering over call at least six times now. He has lost his nerve every time, and clicked his phone off.

“A-xian,” a voice calls from behind. Wei Wuxian turns and finds the only person he wants to see right now hurrying up towards him.

Yanli sets her bag down on the bench and sits down next to Wei Wuxian. Her eyebrows are creased with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “I tried to come as soon as I got your text. Zixuan told me the surgery went well.”

“Mm, it did,” says Wei Wuxian. He allows himself to flop his head down on her shoulder. Here in her arms, he can pretend everything is okay even if it is just for a moment.

Yanli doesn’t ask, just cuddling Wei Wuxian closer to her side with her arm around him and resting her chin on his head. She is soft and warm as always and Wei Wuxian feel his confused, racing thoughts start to slow down at last.

“Jiejie,” he murmurs. “Am I an idiot?”

Yanli laughs at that, the sound like bells chiming. “Depends on the context!”

Wei Wuxian burrows his face deeper into her shoulder. “Mmnf.”

“What’s that, A-xian?”

“Wanted to ask you something,” he whispers. He feels like he is eight years old again, asking her if it was true that Santa Claus wasn’t real. “Can I?”

“Of course. Always.”

“How do you know you like someone?”

He lifts his head up to look at her as her eyes widen in surprise. “I mean!” he says hurriedly. Then he sighs, and look down at his folded hands in his sister’s lap. “I mean, like really like someone. Like them so much it kind of scares you. Ugh, jiejie,” he hugs her arm tightly and rests his cheek against her. “I’m too old for all this, let’s just stay like this for a while.”

Yanli doesn’t move for a long moment. Then she shifts, and pats his head. “It’s never too late, you know, A-xian. And okay. Let’s.”

*

“Wei Wuxian.”

He jumps. He thought he was hiding well enough. He really did.

He tumbles out from behind the bush he was squatting behind, scratching the back of his head. “Lan Xichen!” he says, chuckling nervously. “What brings you here?”

“Wangji is my brother, as you may be aware,” answers Lan Xichen, a twinkle in his eye.

“Ahaha, of course, of course,” says Wei Wuxian, laugh fading out awkwardly.

“I’m more interested in what brings you here,” says Lan Xichen. “To this particular clump of bushes. Walk with me?”

Mortified, Wei Wuxian pulls out a cobweb from his hair and joins Lan Xichen on the cobbled garden path leading to Lan Wangji’s building.

“Apologies for being direct,” says Lan Xichen after a minute, “But I must ask. Has anything happened between Wangji and you?”

Only me deciding I suddenly want him after twenty years of knowing him and briefly throwing myself at him? “Wh-Why?” Wei Wuxian asks instead.

Lan Xichen sighs, and gives him a pitying look. “Wangji doesn’t have a lot of friends, you know.” He fixes his gaze on the path ahead, lost in thought. “He is respected, admired and celebrated by many, but most never bother to look beyond his academic and other achievements and get to really know him.”

True, but it’s their loss, Wei Wuxian thinks to himself. “What... What does that have to do with me, though?”

Suddenly, Lan Xichen looks a little sad. Then he appears to come to a decision, nodding to himself. “Can I show you something?”

Wei Wuxian nods. He has no idea what is going on, but he is too curious to back out now.

“Come with me.”

He follows Lan Xichen as he takes them to the car park of the building. They pass several cars till the stop at a familiar white Bentley. Lan Wangji’s.

Lan Xichen pulls out a key from his pocket. The doors clicks open.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a small smile. “I only borrowed it briefly. Please, take a seat.”

Wei Wuxian slides into the passenger seat. There is no chance Lan Xichen is secretly a psychopath about to kidnap him, is there? He always seemed so well-adjusted.

Lan Xichen gets into the driver’s seat. He reaches for the music system and presses a button. The CD player slides out.

CDs? In this decade? Only Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian things with a touch of fondness.

Lan Xichen takes out the CD and looks at it with a smile. Then he hands it to Wei Wuxian.

It’s really old, from the looks of it. The generic store label is yellow with age, mostly peeled off. But over the surface, clear as day, is a title etched in with black felt-tip pen.

Wangxian.

Wang...xian? Wei Wuxian feels his heart screech to a halt. When it starts again, it beats at the speed of light.

Wangxian? He touches the CD and traces the letters ever so carefully. How old must it be? Wangxian. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Wordlessly, he slides the CD back into the player. Then he presses play.

For the third time this week, stirring, aching notes of a violin start to play. It’s the song that had played when they were in this very car, and then again when he had asked Lan Wangji to play him a song to calm him down before operating on Wen Ning.

The song he now realises Lan Wangji had written for him all these years ago.

“Wei Wuxian,” comes a quiet voice through the jumble of thoughts racing through his head. He turns to look at Lan Xichen. “I think you don’t realise the true extent of the power you hold over Lan Wangji. As much as he cares about you, you are also probably the only person in the world who can truly break his heart.”

“I should go,” Wei Wuxian decides. He ejects the CD again and takes it out. Looks around at Lan Xichen, who nods.

He opens the car door, and steps outside.

*

Wei Wuxian stops in front of the door to Lan Wangji’s penthouse apartment. The door is sensible and wooden, not unlike what most people see Lan Wangji as. But Wei Wuxian knows better: somewhere on the other side of the door, there happens to be a fluffy rug with pink bunnies printed all over it.

He has no clue what he is going to say, but he knocks. Within moments, he can hear soft footsteps approaching the door.

He thinks about what Lan Wangji was doing just now: maybe sitting on his couch with his legs folded under him, poring over study notes. Thinks about Lan Wangji making himself a cup of tea. Thinks about Lan Wangji doing the dishes, a cloud-patterned apron tied around his waist.

His heart clenches at the thought of him doing every mundane, everyday activity, surprising him with how intensely he wants to know him in all of those quiet moments too.

Lan Wangji opens the door. He is wearing a plain blue T-shirt and slim grey joggers. Wei Wuxian notes with a pang of fondness the rag tucked into the waistband of his joggers. Had he been dusting? His warm golden-brown eyes widen when he sees him.

Then just as suddenly, Lan Wangji slams the door shut on his face.

Wei Wuxian gawks at the door for a good few seconds. Then he bangs again. “Lan Zhan!” he shouts. “Can we please talk?” He wonders briefly if rich people doors even allowed sound to permeate through at all. At any rate he is certainly not going down a fight, he thinks, squinting menacingly at the door that separates him from Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan, you can’t do this! You’re not allowed!” He holds up the CD and waves it, fully aware Lan Wangji can’t see him. “Don’t make me come back here with a boom box! You think you can just compose a song years and years ago and record it on a fucking CD and have the nerve to call it—”

The door opens. Lan Wangji is still there, looking mildly panic-stricken.

“... Wangxian,” he finishes quietly, still holding the CD up in the air.

“No swearing on the foyer,” Lan Wangji says stiffly at last, breaking the silence. He opens the door imperceptibly wider, and Wei Wuxian takes that as an invitation to come inside.

The door clicks shut behind him. “I’m going to ask you a few questions,” he says.

Lan Wangji nods. There is a vaguely defeated look on his face.

“When,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, “Was this?” He holds up the CD.

Lan Wangji shifts his gaze to a spot above Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Seventh grade.”

Thirteen years. Wei Wuxian inhales, fingers clenching into fists. Thirteen fucking years. “Why?” he bites out. “Why did you?”

Lan Wangji does not reply for a long time. Wei Wuxian squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if he dreads or craves to know the answer.

“The junior Science Olympiad,” Lan Wangji says at last. He is still scrutinising that faraway spot above Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “The masked ball after the award ceremony.”

Wei Wuxian remembers. It was a summer he and Lan Wangji spent together in Japan, representing their country for the international junior Science Olympiad. He remembers the two of them being the youngest ones there among hundreds of students from all over the world. They had grown apart a little during middle school, and before they left Wei Wuxian had complained at great length to Jiang Cheng and Yanli about how he would be having to spend his first summer as a teenager with boring Lan Zhan and a bunch of internationally acclaimed nerds instead of raising hell at home.

“Aren’t you forgetting you’re one of those internationally acclaimed nerds yourself?” Jiang Cheng had asked, rolling his eyes.

But to his surprise, Wei Wuxian found he had fun. Sure, Lan Zhan wasn’t exactly helping him smuggle alcohol into their hotel room or going skinny dipping with him at midnight. But he didn’t say no when Wei Wuxian nudged him during a particularly boring laboratory session and half-jokingly suggested they sneak out to Akihabara to try their luck at the arcades. There, when Wei Wuxian won a bunny plushie and offered it to Lan Wangji while grinning ear to ear, he had taken it. And when Wei Wuxian had dragged him into a purikura booth and held his fingers up in a V sign for a photo, he hadn’t scoffed and moved them away.

They had a masked ball on their very last day, just after the awards ceremony where both had won gold. Wei Wuxian had lost Lan Wangji sometime between the two events, and he hovered around amidst the older kids with his mask covering his eyes, finding himself feeling bored for the first time in a long, long time. He had wondered briefly if Lan Wangji had been the one making the trip less boring all this time, and promptly shuddered. There’s no way that could have been the case. He was Wei Wuxian and he could keep himself entertained, damn it!

He had snuck into a corner within view of the bar, calculating his odds of securing a drink for himself without being identified as a thirteen year old kid, when all of a sudden a figure had appeared before him.

The figure looked to be around his age, only slightly taller than himself and dressed in a white suit with clouds embroidered in blue thread down the lapels. He wore a mask over his face. Before Wei Wuxian could form the faintest idea of what was going on, the figure had grabbed him by the front of his dress shirt and pressed their mouths together.

It was Wei Wuxian’s first kiss, and very possibly the masked figure’s first too. Wei Wuxian had stood in stunned silence as he was kissed clumsily, noses and teeth bumping awkwardly. Then as suddenly as the figure had come to him, he had withdrawn and seemingly disappeared into thin air.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t recall much more of that night. He remembers wandering around aimlessly, finding himself hours later back at their hotel room where Lan Zhan was asleep on the bed next to his, thinking about his anonymous kisser’s long fingers and soft but insistent mouth and the faint scent of sandalwood that he could feel still lingered around him. Or was he confusing him with Lan Zhan now? He had gone to bed then with a jumble of thoughts of a faceless boy with a firm chest and long legs and beautiful hands and long, pretty hair—

“That was you,” Wei Wuxian breathes. He feels like he had known all along somehow, but squashed the thought to a corner of his brain so he would never have to think of it again. Up until now. “You kissed me at the masked ball all those years ago.”

Lan Wangji nods, his eyes lowered. “I didn’t ask,” he says quietly. “It was your first, and I have regretted it ever since.”

“So you just decided on your own that I was never going to want to kiss you myself and went off to compose an angsty song on your violin,” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Meanwhile, there I was having a literal wet dream on the bed next to you. My first one. About you. The very next morning. And you never took responsibility!”

Lan Wangji looks stricken.

“Lan Zhan, I think we may be have been idiots,” Wei Wuxian goes on with a rueful smile. “In fact, I think we may just be the ultimate human form of Kibum taking off clown wig dot jpg.”

Lan Wangji only stares at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Wei Wuxian takes a step towards him. It almost happens unawares, so wildly does he feel attracted to him right now.

Then he pauses.

“That was years ago, though,” he says out loud, half to himself as cold pure terror grips his heart. “Lan Zhan... do you... could you possibly still...”

“Always have,” Lan Wangji replies immediately. “Will always want you, Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, I—”

Ding. Ding. Ding. Wei Wuxian jumps, and glances down at his phone. There’s a flood of messages pouring in all of a sudden.

He reads the first one. It’s from Sizhui.

Wen Ning woke up.

He lets out a scream and holds up his phone for Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan! Do you see this? Wen Ning woke up!”

“What?” Lan Wangji grabs the phone from his hand and they stare at the message together. A fresh message rolls in on his lock screen. It’s from Wen Qing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers. His eyes feel wet, but he thinks it can’t be possible to be happier than he is right now. He saved Wen Ning, with this ridiculous, idiot, wonderful boy that he wants more than he has ever wanted anything in his life before, and this idiot wants him back.

So he does what seems like the next logical step. He flings his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, and kisses him full on the mouth.

Lan Zhan is firm and warm and wonderful against his body, and his lips are soft and plush. Wei Wuxian presses closer against him, kissing him enthusiastically for a few (perfect, perfect) moments till abruptly, Lan Wangji places a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes him away till he is at arm’s length.

“Wei Ying.” He exhales, face suddenly serious. “I’m in love with you.” He says it like it is a warning, like if Wei Wuxian takes one step forward, there will be no going back.

Wei Wuxian giggles. This is really the big, scary thing he had been terrified of all these years? Lan Zhan’s face almost starts to fall at his reaction, so he goes quiet for a moment. Then he says, “I love you too. Lan Zhan, I think I’ve loved you for a really long time. I’m an idiot, but so are you, so it’s only fitting we deserve each other. Now that we’ve established that, I swear to god if you don’t kiss me right now—”

Wei Wuxian never has to complete that thought because finally, finally Lan Wangji takes a step forward and grabs Wei Wuxian’s face in his hands. With an excruciatingly gentle look in his eyes, he leans closer and kisses Wei Wuxian.

At first, Lan Wangji kisses him like he does most other things: measured and careful. As he presses long, close-mouthed kisses against Wei Wuxian’s mouth, he tips his head back for better access till Wei Wuxian has to grip on to his shoulders to hold himself up. Then he parts his lips, kisses growing wetter and sloppier, tongue lapping at Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Wei Wuxian can’t hold back the moan that escapes the back of his throat as he opens his mouth for Lan Wangji to kiss him deeper and hotter. Lan Wangji kisses him with his whole body, hands roaming down his back to settle above his hips, bending him backward as far as he can with Wei Wuxian remaining upright. He kisses him slowly and thoroughly like he has thought of this many times before in many different ways and now that he has the chance, wants to do every one of those things to him in painstaking detail.

Wei Wuxian tips his chin up as he’s kissed well into oblivion, till a particularly lewd move involving Lan Wangji sucking on his tongue has his knees buckling and fingers scrambling for purchase on his shirt. Lan Wangji’s hands slip lower with a completely unnecessary squeeze of his ass on the way, and when they reach below he suddenly hitches Wei Wuxian up in his arms with one hand. Supporting him at his shoulder with the other hand, he walks him towards the kitchen counter with Wei Wuxian’s legs around his waist, continuing to kiss him messily.

When Wei Wuxian is deposited on top of the kitchen counter, Lan Wangji steps between his legs till they are chest to chest. Wei Wuxian tightens his grip around Lan Wangji’s shoulders as the kisses grow wilder and harder.

When Lan Wangji finally pulls away, Wei Wuxian catches a brief glimpse of him before he starts to kiss the line of his jaw. He looks focused, eyes bright and cheeks flushed and hair askew, and the look in his eyes sparks something new, unfamiliar, feral in Wei Wuxian.

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” he starts to mumble as Lan Wangji sucks at a spot below his jaw. “Want you so much... kiss me harder there, want everyone to know you want me.”

He reaches for the top button of his shirt, but as he goes to undo them, Lan Wangji swats his hand away and replaces it with his own. The next thing he knows, the front of his shirt has been ripped open, buttons flying in all directions.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps, a thrill of pleasure blooming in his stomach at the knowledge that he wants him too much to spend five seconds unbuttoning his shirt. Lan Wangji runs long fingers over his back and sides, leaving bruising kisses down his chest and soothing them over with gentle licks. “Take me to bed, please.”

Lan Wangji lifts him up again, propping him up with both hands on his ass and his legs looped around him, this time kissing his neck as he walks him towards his bedroom. Wei Wuxian is too turned on to notice the change of scenery till he’s laid down on the pristine white sheets of Lan Wangji’s bed.

Lan Wangji bends over him, kissing him on the mouth again. As they kiss, Wei Wuxian suddenly reaches behind him and finds the white ribbon he uses to tie his hair up in his usual ponytail. With a firm tug, he releases it.

Lan Wangji pulls away from the kiss, his long hair cascading down over his shoulders and around them as though shielding them from the rest of the world. Wei Wuxian gives him a dazzling grin which doesn’t last long; in a swift motion, Lan Wangji has snatched the ribbon from his hands and tied it around his neck before he can even tell what’s happening.

Wei Wuxian stares up at Lan Wangji, momentarily at a loss for words. He is looking at him with an oddly satisfied look on his face. Wei Wuxian turns his head and finds a mirror on the wall directly in front of him: it’s an erotic sight, with the white ribbon tied like a choker around his neck as Lan Wangji looks down at him like he’s his last meal on earth.

“Lan Zhan,” he babbles as Lan Wangji resumes kissing down his chest, lips finding his nipples. “Look at me, all wrapped up with a bow just for you. Do anything you want to me. Do everything to me.”

He gasps, back arching upwards in a smooth bow as Lan Wangji sucks his nipples, first one and then the other till they stand firm and erect and excruciatingly sensitive. Fingers curling in Lan Wangji’s hair, he jerks his hips upward in stuttering motions as he licks and suckles sloppily at them.

Lan Wangji surges up to kiss him again with a dazed expression in his eyes. “Wei Ying...” he breathes against his lips as Wei Wuxian feels his hardness bump against his thigh.

“Want to feel your cock,” Wei Wuxian goes on, seemingly incapable of stopping. “God, Lan Zhan, you feel so big, I’m drooling at the thought of putting you in my mouth. Please, I need you.”

He traces fingers down Lan Wangji’s stomach to the waistband of his joggers. When his fingers graze Lan Wangji’s hardness, he eagerly maps out the length in his hand. Pushing at Lan Wangji’s shoulders, he flips them over, shimmying down till he is eye level with Lan Wangji’s cock.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so big,” he says as he pulls down Lan Wangji’s joggers and underwear in one go, letting his cock spring free. He probably should be embarrassed by the things he finds himself saying, but he can’t seem to be able to stop and he’s also too horny to care. “Won’t be able to think about anything else ever again but your cock.”

Wei Wuxian grips him at the base, skimming his fingers up the length and fondling the tip. He strokes him a few times, then lowers his hand to cup his balls and presses a kiss to the tip. “Wei Ying!” says Lan Zhan, and Wei Wuxian notes with no small satisfaction the edge of panic in his voice. Massaging his balls lightly, he licks a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock and descends upon it, taking as deep as he can take.

He looks up at Lan Wangji, who is propped up on his elbows, head thrown back with his eyes closed and mouth forming an ‘o’, as he hums around his cock, bobbing his head up and down. He makes a lewd slurping sound as he goes deeper, lips stretching around the thickness and tongue messily working the shaft all the while.

“Lan Zhan,” he mumbles, moving up to suckle the tip of his cock, speaking in short bursts as he lets him slip out from his lips with a pop before taking him in his mouth again, “You’re so thick, and long, and big... Want you in me so badly, but I don’t know how you’ll fit.”

That seems to trigger something in Lan Wangji. “No talking with your mouth full,” he grunts and grips Wei Wuxian tighter by the hair, hauling him closer by his neck and kisses him hot and open-mouthed. “Wei Ying...” he says, pulling away even as Wei Wuxian, drunk from the kisses, whimpers petulantly and tugs his collar in an effort to get him back on his mouth again. “Wei Ying, the other day... When I called you to dictate the study data...”

“What are you talking about,” Wei Wuxian mumbles distractedly. “Why aren’t you kissing me?”

“Did you… touch yourself?”

That breaks Wei Wuxian’s daze. His face feels impossibly hot suddenly with embarrassment. And maybe a touch of excitement too? “How... how did...”

“You... You didn’t end the call. You should check how long the call lasted.”

“You... Heard the whole thing?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t need to. Wei Wuxian thinks about how wantonly he had moaned his name, and how Lan Wangji had heard all of it and inexplicably, feels more turned on that ever.

“Wanted you too much,” he whispers, looking at Lan Wangji through heavy-lidded eyes. “Heard that you carried me princess style, thought about your hands on my ass in front of everyone...”

“Show me,” Lan Wangji says, and the command sets another jolt of electricity up his spine. “Show me exactly what you pictured.”

Wei Wuxian sits back on his heels, feeling like he could come untouched just from the thought of what he is about to do. Rolling his shoulders, he slips his torn shirt off. Then he tugs off his trousers and underwear and tosses them to the side, Lan Wangji closely watching his every move, lingering on his cock standing red and erect against his abdomen. He thinks about doing this slower, on Lan Wangji’s lap, perhaps with some carefully chosen music. Maybe another time, he thinks. Right now, he’s too horny to bear not touching Lan Wangji.

He moves closer into Lan Wangji’s lap, kissing his mouth and down his neck. He is acutely aware of being completely naked while Lan Wangji is fully dressed, and that only turns him on more. “I thought...” he breathes in Lan Wangji’s ear, “Thought about being naked, spread out on your lap, as you played with my ass.”

He watches the long, smooth column of Lan Wangji’s throat shift as he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Then, the very next moment, he finds himself being flipped over easily and manhandled onto his stomach in Lan Wangji’s lap.

Wei Wuxian turns his head to find the mirror again. He finds his reflection staring back at him, hair disheveled, lips kissed fiery red, lying face down across Lan Wangji’s lap with his ass pointed to the air. It’s such a lewd image that he can’t help his hips from stuttering forward, rutting against Lan Wangji’s thigh. That is till Lan Wangji grabs a handful of his ass and squeezes it, causing him to yelp in surprise.

“No touching yourself till I tell you you can,” Lan Wangji says, giving Wei Wuxian’s ass a light experimental smack.

“Didn’t know your family made such dirty rules too,” Wei Wuxian bites out, half irritated at how calmly Lan Wangji could still speak, half turned on at the attention being given to his ass.

“Just me,” Lan Wangji answers.

“Lan Zhan! And you have the nerve to call me shamel—oh!” he cries, as a finger circles his entrance ever so lightly.

Lan Wangji reaches with his other hand for something by his bed, and retrieves what appears to be lube. Slathering it liberally over Wei Wuxian’s entrance, he stares at the way the gel pools around the tight opening for a long moment before collecting it with his fingers and probing deeper. Wei Wuxian throws his head back and gasps as the first finger enters him.

“Lan Zhan,” he says as the finger plunges slowly in and out, infinitely better than in his dream, but still far too little for what he needs right now. “More, please.”

A second finger enters him, fucking him steadily and scissoring till he arches his back, desperate for more. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he babbles, over and over again, “Stretch me out, I’m ready for your cock, look at me opening wide only for you.”

He finds himself wanting things he has never wanted before, the magnitude of his desire to be completely and thoroughly wrecked by this man hitting him like a freight train. He realises at this moment through the haze of lust clouding his brain that he would do or say pretty much anything to provoke Lan Wangji to the point that he would do him exactly the way he craved.

And Lan Wangji does not disappoint. By god, does he not disappoint. He has his eyes narrowed in rapt concentration as he penetrates him with a third finger, then a fourth, fucking him relentlessly and grazing that spot that makes Wei Wuxian’s head loll backwards and eyes roll towards the back of his head as he sees stars.

“Lan Zhan, want your cock in me,” he manages to somehow moan, “I think I’ll die without your cock inside me, stuffing me up—”

He doesn’t need to ask again. Lan Wangji cuts his words short, manhandling him easily onto his back, clambering on top of him and reaching for his bedside table again to retrieve a pack of condoms. Wei Wuxian sighs as Lan Wangji’s fingers leave him and he fumbles for a moment to roll the condom over his length. It’s unexpectedly sweet, the way his eyebrows furrow and his fingers tug and pull as he struggles to get it on, and Wei Wuxian’s chest suddenly bursts with affection. Lifting his hand, boneless and limp now from the stimulation, he brushes the back of his finger down Lan Wangji’s cheek.

“Take your clothes off,” he says. “Want to feel you on me.”

Turning his head to press a kiss onto the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand, Lan Wangji swiftly shucks off his shirt and joggers. Wei Wuxian admires the firm lines of his body, pale skin flushed red all over, till he bends over him again and they are finally skin to skin.

When he manages to get the condom on at last, he grips both of Wei Wuxian’s hips and bends to kiss him. “Wei Ying...” he exhales against his lips once Wei Wuxian is sufficiently kiss-drunk and distracted to feel the initial sting, and enters him.

Wei Wuxian has never had a man inside him before, but he is certain no amount of experience would have prepared him for this. It is not pain, not quite pleasure yet, but even if he can’t name it, he knows it’s more than he has ever felt. Even with Lan Wangji’s length halfway inside him he feels like he’s been turned inside out, connected to him so completely that he cannot tell where he ends and Lan Wangji begins.

“Wei Ying...” Lan Wangji says, voice sounding strained but reverent. “Wei Ying.”

He bottoms out and suddenly he is everywhere: inside him, over him and around him, but Wei Wuxian also feels more aware of his own body and being as he gives all of himself up to him. He grips Lan Wangji by the arms, eyes fluttering open to see him looking down at him with so much tenderness that he feels like he could be blinded by it.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, once the sensations become all too much. “Lan Zhan, move.”

Lan Wangji pulls out and pushes back in, and Wei Wuxian can’t hold back a cry. Lan Wangji repeats the motion with smooth, almost languid strokes as they grow accustomed to the feeling of being connected so intimately. He folds Wei Wuxian’s legs back to angle his thrusts better and suddenly with a more powerful stroke he hits an area that makes Wei Wuxian arch his back and curl his toes against Lan Wangji’s broad back.

“Lan Zhan, that—”

Lan Wangji stops mid-thrust, and Wei Wuxian could just about scream. “Wei Ying, are you okay?”

“God fucking damn, do that again,” he bites out, digging his nails deeper into Lan Wangji’s back and clenching down, ready to do just about anything to feel that again.

Lan Wangji completes the thrust and Wei Wuxian gasps as his insides light up with pleasure more powerful that he ever knew it was possible to experience. It’s nothing like touching himself, feeling Lan Wangji all around him, being filled up with him, solid and real and stimulating his every sense into overdrive.

“Lan Zhan,” he moans, that new, uninhibited side of him starting to take over once more. “You fill me up so well, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to live without your cock inside me again.”

Lan Wangji props himself up with one hand on the bed and lifts both of Wei Wuxian’s legs straight up, positioning them on his own shoulders. Wei Wuxian keens as the new angle overwhelms him utterly, head flopping to the side and their reflection in the mirror coming into view. For a moment he is struck into silence by the sheer lewdness of the image, his body bent in half with his feet pointed at the ceiling as Lan Wangji fucks into him.

Staring at their reflection, Wei Wuxian reaches for his almost painfully hard cock but Lan Wangji isn’t having it: with a smooth, swift movement between thrusts, he manhandles Wei Wuxian onto his lap. Wei Wuxian finds himself looking directly at his reflection in the mirror, back against Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s almost too much, looking at himself like this—damp hair flopping over his forehead, neck and chest covered in marks, nipples red and hard and cock standing erect against his abdomen. His head lolls back as Lan Wangji holds him with a single hand on his hip and bounces him on his cock.

A sudden pressure on his nipple makes his eyes fly open. Lan Wangji is rolling the hard nub between his finger as he fucks up into him. Wei Wuxian catches Lan Wangji’s eye staring closely at their joint reflection in the mirror and the idea of being held in such a position and being looked at so intently has his whole body feel hot. He looks away, only to have his chin turned back around by Lan Wangji to look at the mirror again. This time, Lan Wangji lifts him up with one arm under his knees to hold him up as he fucks him. Wei Wuxian watches himself held up in the air with Lan Wangji’s cock disappearing inside him only to slip out and thrust into him over and over again.

“Lan Zhan, oh, you can’t hold me like this,” he moans wantonly, half out of his mind with dizzying pleasure. “You can’t fuck me so well, so mean, you’ll have me pregnant on our first night.”

Lan Wangji stops dead for a second as he hears that and abruptly his thrusts grow harder, faster and messier. “Wei Ying...” he says, voice hitching. Wei Wuxian finds himself pushed down on his hands and knees as he’s pounded into from behind.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he cries, teeth chattering from the force of Lan Wangji’s thrusts. He is vaguely aware of the ridiculous things he is saying, but he couldn’t care less if only it would make Lan Wangji keep wrecking him like this. “Use my body just like this, think I was made to be fucked by you.”

Lan Wangji’s energy seems endless, magnifying with every word Wei Wuxian tells him. He continues to fuck him with incremental force till even the sturdy wooden bed creaks rhythmically in time with their movements. Wei Wuxian’s arms threaten to give way so he bends lower, reaching out a hand to hold Lan Wangji’s and bring it to his now aching cock.

Lan Wangji threads their fingers together, the intimacy of this simple movement making Wei Wuxian buck and clench around his length inside him. “Wei Ying...” Lan Wangji exhales and slides out of him, turns him around till they are face to face and thrusts into him again.

Wei Wuxian looks up at him, reaching up to put his arms around his neck and wrap his legs around his hips to bring them as close as it is physically possible to be. Lan Wangji leans in to kiss him.

Just like in his dream, it is Lan Wangji kissing him that finally, finally sends him over the edge. “Oh, oh,” he cries against Lan Wangji’s mouth as he thrusts up against his stomach, desperate for friction. Lan Wangji captures his lips again in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss and reaches between them to stroke his cock. He has barely given it a single tug before Wei Wuxian cries out his name, body arching high against the bed and comes all over their stomachs.

Wei Wuxian falls back down on the pillows as the throes of his release wrack his whole body all the way down his toes. He half-thinks he just forgot his own name and he definitely doesn’t realise how hard he clenched down on Lan Wangji’s cock inside him, but he uses the last of his energy to smile dazedly up at Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan, come inside me.”

Eyes never leaving Wei Wuxian’s face, Lan Wangji gives a few last stuttering, haphazard thrusts till his lips fall open in a silent o and he rides out his climax inside him.

Wei Wuxian cannot be too sure if he dreamed up Lan Wangji getting up a few minutes later, going to the bathroom and bringing a damp cloth to wipe him down. But he does remember him pulling him close to his chest when he comes back to bed and whispering, “Wei Ying, I love you,” before he finally drifts off to sleep for real.

*

Lan Wangji has seemingly endless stamina, Wei Wuxian comes to realise all too well after he’s fucked three more times that night.

The second time, Wei Wuxian awakes from his post-sex nap to his heart clenching to the sound of a familiar song being played on the piano. When his hazy brain catches up to the raw, aching emotion of it that his heart has answered to even before he fully awoke, he sits up in Lan Wangji’s bed.

This time, there are words to it. Wei Wuxian sits in rapt silence and listens to Lan Wangji singing the song—their song—with words so full of love and longing that he almost cannot stand it. He gets to his feet, uncaring that he is still completely naked. He pads across the cold marble floor and stops at the door.

In the attached room Lan Wangji sits at the piano, singing as he plays. Wei Wuxian leans against the doorframe and listens.

When the song ends, Wei Wuxian walks up behind Lan Wangji and reaches out to touch his hair. Lan Wangji looks up at him. Hair down, he looks unbearably soft.

“You didn’t... I didn’t know there were words to the song.” It sounds woefully inadequate for all the things he wants to say right now. His eyes feel damp at the corners.

Lan Wangji takes his hand in his own and brings it to his lips. “Wei Ying,” he says. He kisses each knuckle and up his palm. “Wei Ying.” He pulls him closer and presses kisses over the soft skin of his wrist.

“Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian gasps as Lan Wangji pulls him even closer.

“Wei Ying,” he says as he begins to kiss him up his forearm. Wei Wuxian feels dizzy from the kisses as much as the sheer adoration in the way Lan Wangji says his name. “Wei Ying.” He pulls an arm around Wei Wuxian’s hip as he reaches his elbow, continuing to press now wetter, open-mouthed kisses on his upper arm. “Wei Ying.” He stands up, taking Wei Wuxian’s naked body in his arms and pushing him back against the piano and continues to kiss him up until his shoulder.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps, arching up into his embrace in a smooth bow. Lan Wangji continues to press him backwards, kissing his chest till he finds his already sensitive nipples. He hitches Wei Wuxian up against the piano to put his mouth on them, sucking and lapping. Wei Wuxian scrambles to climb on him as his knees buckle, hiking his legs up around Lan Wangji’s waist.

The next thing he knows, he’s trussed up in Lan Wangji’s lap, sitting on his cock with his hands tied behind his back with Lan Wangji’s white hair ribbon so they wouldn’t clang against the piano keys.

*

The third time, Wei Wuxian finds himself in Lan Wangji’s bed again. The lower half of his body feels freshly washed. He wonders if Lan Wangji princess carried him to the bathroom to wipe him down and even after everything that has happened this evening the thought makes him flush.

“Wei Ying.” He turns to find Lan Wangji standing by the bed, holding a tray of food.

“Lan Zhan!” he exclaims in delight, crawling over on his hands and knees towards him. He is still sore, but not enough to stop him from provoking Lan Wangji. And if it leads to him getting fucked wildly for the third time in five hours, well, that couldn’t be helped, could it? “Am I being wined and dined?” he asks, the picture of innocence as he sits on his fours, head cocked to the side like a cat. He watches with a stab of excitement the way Lan Wangji’s eyes travel slowly over his still naked form.

“Sit down, Wei Ying,” he says stiffly at last. He lifts up a small wooden table from below the bed and sets it down on the sheets in front of Wei Wuxian. He sets down the tray of food on the table and sits down opposite him.

Wei Wuxian eagerly takes off the lids. There is a pot of soup, another of noodles, a third of tea and a glass of Emperor’s Smile.

“Alcohol? In Lan Zhan’s bedroom? Must be my lucky day!” He takes a swig of the Emperor’s Smile and grins widely at Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji pours himself a cup of tea. There is the tiniest self-indulgent smile on his face as he looks at Wei Wuxian.

“Wait,” he says, when Wei Wuxian grabs a spoon and dips it in the soup. He turns to bring another smaller tray from the bedside table and set it next to the first. This one contains an array of small jars of every possible spice, sauce and garnish Wei Wuxian could think of.

“Whichever Wei Ying wants,” Lan Wangji says, waving a hand over it.

“L-Lan Zhan!” says Wei Wuxian, covering his face with his arm. The thought that Lan Wangji would bring him all this just because he enjoys spicy food and Lan Wangji himself doesn’t know the first thing about seasoning makes him flush again. He feels utterly spoiled and utterly in love.

Heart skittering in his chest as Lan Wangji continues to look at him over his cup of tea, Wei Wuxian goes to town with the spices till the food is palatable. He slurps contentedly, realising only now how hungry he had been. It’s 11 p.m., the clock over the wardrobe on the opposite wall tells him. Five hours earlier he didn’t know Lan Wangji had been in love with him for more than thirteen years.

Once he’s finished, he sets the bowls down and leans back on his arms, patting his belly. “Oh Lan Zhan, that was wonderful,” he says blissfully. “Although I’m glad you’re significantly spicier in bed than you are in the kitchen—oh!”

He springs away as Lan Wangji reaches out for him, laughing as he moves just out of reach. He jumps off the bed and runs into the corridor, Lan Wangji following moments later to catch him.

When he finds himself ten minutes later facing his reflection in the mirror again from his seat on Lan Wangji’s cock on a plush armchair in the corner of the bedroom, he thinks he probably deserved it.

*

The fourth time, it is five thirty in the morning. Wei Wuxian stretches out on the bed. He scrabbles at Lan Wangji’s side and frowns when he finds it empty. The bed is still warm and faintly sandalwood scented so he must not have been up long. Wei Wuxian rolls over to his side and burrows his nose in the mattress and breathes in. The bed is massive, he thinks, splayed diagonally across it but still far from the edge. He windmills his arms for a few moments. Then his hand comes across a light blue button-up shirt balled up in a corner.

The shirt hangs off his shoulders and skims the edge of his ass. Wei Wuxian watches himself in the mirror, unbuttoning the topmost button, then the next. The way the shirt sits on him, showing off his kiss-marked collarbones and falling straight down his sides reminds him how much broader Lan Wangji is than him.

He walks outside the room and into the corridor. Toes padding softly on the plush carpet-lined floor, he makes his way through the flat. He finds Lan Wangji in the kitchen, wearing only his joggers as he boils water on the stove with his back to the door.

Taking a moment to admire the perfect V of his back, Wei Wuxian quietly makes his way across the room. Before Lan Wangji knows he’s there, he slips his arms around his waist and presses his face into his back.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan,” he smiles, and presses a kiss onto Lan Wangji’s back.

He peeks out over his shoulder and inhales the smell of fresh coffee brewing. It is all so domestic that his chest aches with the acute awareness that he wants every morning ever again to be just like this.

Lan Wangji turns around to kiss him. His hands grip his own shirt on Wei Wuxian’s body and he jolts back in surprise.

“Wei Ying...” he breathes, eyes wide as he takes in the way Wei Wuxian’s smaller form is enveloped in his clothes. Wei Wuxian blinks innocently up at him, shrugging one shoulder deliberately so the shirt slips clear off on that side. “You... This is my...”

He stays frozen in place for a moment, eyes roving over Wei Wuxian’s frame as though he’s not sure what to look at first. His collarbones covered in bruising kiss marks, his bare shoulder which has slipped out from the slightly too-wide collar, the hem of the shirt that barely grazes his ass.

The next moment, Wei Wuxian is twirled around in Lan Wangji’s arms and being furiously kissed with his back against the kitchen counter.

“Lan Zhan, oh,” he cries as Lan Wangji kisses his shoulder and grabs two handfuls of his ass.  Lan Wangji inspiring him to say the most shameless, embarrassing things seems to be a thing he is not going to be able to get rid of any time soon, he thinks hazily as he starts to babble every desperate thought that comes to his mind. “Do you like seeing me in your clothes? I like being in them too... Like feeling how big you are, knowing my skin touches where yours has been, smelling like you. Lan Zhan, I want to feel you on me every second of the day.”

It’s all worth it, he thinks with a purr of satisfaction as Lan Wangji—bless him—forever responding wonderfully to his lewd words, pulls his joggers down and lines his cock against his entrance.

“Lan Zhan, will you come in me again? You came in me so many—ah... times already, I must be pregnant already,” he gasps and hikes his leg up around Lan Wangji’s waist as he’s penetrated. “You’re so mean, Lan Zhan—hah, but I’ll give you so many babies... all the babies you want, Lan Zhan, I want everything with you.”

Lan Wangji stops dead with his cock half inside Wei Wuxian. His eyes widen, fixing on Wei Wuxian with impossible heat. Then he bends him backwards till he is lying back on the kitchen counter, starting to fuck him in earnest and there’s no coherent thought from either of them again for a while.

*

They go to work together in Lan Wangji’s white Bentley. Not much has changed—they still bicker, an activity consisting mostly of Wei Wuxian chattering endlessly, often teasing, and Lan Wangji giving him The Look in response. But now when Lan Wangji’s eyes sometimes turn fond as he says something particularly outrageous, Wei Wuxian doesn’t look away and lets his face flush and his heart thump against his chest and takes in the feeling of being in love with Lan Wangji and knowing he is loved right back.

They walk to the hospital from the parking area side by side, shoulders bumping together. Soon, Lan Wangji reaches for his hand and takes it.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, suddenly flustered at this public display of their newfound relationship.

“You’ve worn my turtleneck today,” Lan Wangji answers simply. Wei Wuxian had chosen a black turtleneck with the longest neck he could find in Lan Wangji’s massive walk-in closet, to hide the countless marks on his skin. Deciding that fucking four times in a single night meant he pretty much had free reign over Lan Wangji’s wardrobe, he had also selected one of his oversized Gucci cardigans in white with red and green trims to layer over it.

“And whose fault is that?” Wei Wuxian pouts.

“How else will people know you’re mine,” Lan Wangji says calmly, like he was just commenting on the weather.

“L-Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian gasps, a hand flying up to hide his rapidly reddening face. Lan Wangji is a dangerous man, he’s swiftly realising.

They are still holding hands when they walk down the cobbled path to the neurosciences block.

“A-xian!”

They turn in the direction of the voice. From the coffee stand a little way away, Yanli is waving at them. Her grin threatens to split her face in two. Next to her Jiang Cheng stares at them, managing somehow to go red in the face, roll his eyes, look exasperated, disgruntled and vaguely relieved all in the space of five seconds.

“Hi,” Yanli giggles, unable to control her mirth as they walk towards her and Jiang Cheng. “Wangji,” she smiles, nodding as Lan Wangji bows towards her, still holding Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Hey, stop walking around the campus holding hands!” Jiang Cheng splutters. “And you!” He rounds on Lan Wangji. “When were you planning on asking me permission to date him? I’m his brother, you know.”

Lan Wangji squares his shoulders and faces him. “Wei Ying is perfectly capable of making that decision on his own.” He moves his hand to grip him tightly around the waist, pulling him closer by his side.

“Uh, guys?” says Wei Wuxian, chuckling nervously as Lan Wangji and his brother square off.

“A-Cheng, behave,” Yanli chides, touching her brother’s arm. She turns to the others. “Did you guys visit Wen Ning yet?”

“We’re heading there now,” Wei Wuxian replies. “I wonder if Wen Qing will be there too.”

“That’s likely,” Yanli says. “She hasn’t left his side since the surgery. Probably wouldn’t have eaten a bite all this time if Jiang Cheng hadn’t brought her some cup noodles late last night.” She winks at her brother, nudging him in the ribs.

“Hey, why is he allowed to flirt while I can’t hold hands with Lan Zhan around campus again?”

“Shut up, idiot! Bet you two weren’t up to any good at that hour either.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and looks at Lan Wangji. “Well, by then we were probably on round three—“

“I didn’t ask!” Jiang Cheng bellows, red in the face. “God! Fuck! Get away from me.” He storms off, fists clenched. If he were a cartoon character there would be steam coming out of his ears. Laughing madly, Yanli waves at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and hurries after him.

“Lan Zhan, let’s go see Wen Ning?” says Wei Wuxian.

“Mn.”

They make their way to the neurosciences building, taking the lift to the ICU on the tenth floor. Wei Wuxian’s phone has lit up with messages a good twenty times already since they’ve entered the campus, at least eighteen of them from Nie Huaisang.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK.

WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUCKKKK

TELL. ME. ALLLLLLL.

btw my brother actually didn’t say a word when he found out we used his operating room last night what the fuck goes onnnn

Once they’re outside the ICU, they change into sterile gowns in the changing room by the entrance, donning masks and caps before they enter.

Wen Ning’s bed is in the very last cubicle. He is asleep, countless monitors and IV lines connected to him. Wei Wuxian remembers his pale, lifeless face as he lay on the operating table. Then his eyes open and Wei Wuxian has to squeeze Lan Wangji’s hand to make sure this isn’t all a dream.

“Wei... Wuxian,” Wen Ning says, voice hoarse, slowly but carefully. “Lan Wangji.”

“Wen Ning.” Wei Wuxian disinfects his hand and reaches out to touch his arm. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Wen Ning answers.

“Hi,” another voice says from behind them,

They turn to find Wen Qing sitting up from her position curled up on the armchair in front of the bed. Her hair is still a mess and there are dried tear tracks staining her cheeks but she looks rested. She walks up to them and hugs them both in turn.

“Sorry, but at least I think I messed up your shirt a little less than last time,” she smiles at Wei Wuxian. Her eyes are wet again but her smile is blinding.

“Why don’t you go home?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Lan Zhan and I can watch him till our rounds start at least.”

“Don’t worry, Sizhui is coming over soon,” she replies. “Do you know they’re planning to start A-Ning on physiotherapy tomorrow?”

“That’s incredible,” Wei Wuxian says.

“You guys are incredible.” She walks over to her brother’s bed, sprays sanitiser on her hands and touches his forehead. “By the way, his birthday party is still on.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’ll be shifted to the ward by Saturday.” She strokes Wen Ning’s hair, smiling adoringly down at him. “We’ll have it in his room. Maybe sneak in some cake.”

“Wen Qing, sneaking in cake on post-op day 3!” Wei Wuxian grins, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Hush, hush,” she says. “Didn’t you say you were late for rounds?”

“There’s the Wen Qing I missed,” Wei Wuxian says. “Fine, fine, we’re leaving.”

“Saturday afternoon, Ward 3C!” she calls as they make towards the entrance. Wei Wuxian waves back at her.

They change out of the ICU gowns outside into their regular clothes and make their way down the stairs. On the fifth floor, Wei Wuxian suddenly grabs Lan Wangji by the hand and pulls him into an abandoned corridor.

“Wei Ying, Dr. Lan will be in 3B for rounds soon,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian ignores him, pressing him against the wall, curling his fingers in Lan Wangji’s crisp white button-up and kisses him. Just because he can.

“We’ve wasted too much time already,” he murmurs, between kisses. “Imagine how many times we could have done this by now.”

Lan Wangji puts his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and kisses him stupid. “Will make it up to you, Wei Ying.” His eyes shine with conviction. “You said you want babies last night, we’ll have as many babies as you want.”

“Um, Lan Zhan?” There are some things he said last night that he does not want to hear repeated in the light of day. Besides, he was just horny. “I don’t think that’s scientifically poss—”

The words freeze in his mouth as Lan Wangji continues to look at him earnestly. All of sudden, an image of the two of them with a couple of small children running around their ankles enters his brain. His heart squeezes painfully. Maybe...

“Would like to court you properly first, though,” Lan Wangji continues. He takes Wei Wuxian’s hands in both his own. “Saturday night, will you have dinner with me?”

Stunned, Wei Wuxian nods. Maybe they were always going to be the couple that did everything backwards. Sex first, date second. Sounded all right to him, as long as there was sex on the cards after the date too.

“Will talk to Jiang Cheng after that, and your sister too,” Lan Wangji says solemnly.

“Really? Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian asks doubtfully. But Lan Wangji nods, and that is when Wei Wuxian realises he is actually one hundred percent serious.

“Must ask them for permission,” he says. “Before I propose to you. A week from now.”

“Hah?” Wait, did he say propose? “Lan Zhan!”

*

And because this is Lan Wangji we’re talking about, that is exactly what he does.