Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Listen," Wei Ying says, his voice coming out tight and breathless.

To give Lan Zhan credit, he does pause in what he's doing, but it's only to lift his mouth from Wei Ying's neck and gaze down, admiring what Wei Ying can only assume is a massive hickey, judging from the throbbing in his neck.

"No, really, listen," Wei Ying says again, desperately, even though he's the one hitching his hips up against Lan Zhan—fuck, he's hard, how did Lan Zhan get him this hard, this fast?

"Listening," Lan Zhan murmurs. And, true to his word, he is: he's looking at Wei Ying, his eyes dark and steady, and if that's his dick pressed up against Wei Ying's hip, well, he's not letting it divert his attention. Getting Lan Zhan's full attention is...intense. Wei Ying can't catch his breath for a moment.

"Fuck, that's a hell of a thing," he says helplessly.

Lan Zhan keeps watching him patiently. He doesn't even rock his hips forward, the way Wei Ying would absolutely do in his position, and his gaze doesn't falter, even though his lips are still damp and red, and fuck, Wei Ying wants Lan Zhan to go back to kissing him, wants him to fuck his mouth with his tongue.

"Right," Wei Ying says, trying to line up his thoughts. "Right, okay, listen, we can't tell anyone about this."

"All right," Lan Zhan says, and leans in, capturing Wei Ying's mouth in a kiss and—there it is—fucking into his mouth with his tongue.

Wei Ying gets lost in it for a long series of seconds. Possibly minutes. Maybe longer. He can't tell. He's caught up in the kissing; he can't believe he's lived this long without it. He doesn't know how he's going to go back to living without Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth. He's melted into the couch underneath Lan Zhan, and now Lan Zhan's hips are moving, a steady rocking against Wei Ying. His thigh has slid between Wei Ying's legs, and Wei Ying isn't exactly sure which one of them is making those rough, desperate sounds. He feels like he could come from this. Is he going to come from this?

He has no idea how they got here. Or, okay, he does know how they got here, but he can't believe it's happening and he's sort of worried that if he thinks about it too closely, it will stop happening, and he really, really doesn't want that. It feels like they're balancing on a precipice, a precipice made of incredible sexual chemistry, and he thinks if they stop kissing, they both might remember that they're best friends, that they've been best friends for so long, Wei Ying is honestly not sure what he would do if Lan Zhan wanted to stop being best friends with him. He thinks his life would maybe fall apart.

Lan Zhan is the one who gets him to go grocery shopping, on an actual regular basis, because he has a schedule for things like that and he'd just started telling Wei Ying what time he was coming to get him so Wei Ying could go with him. Lan Zhan takes two trains all the way across town to get him. Left to his own devices, Wei Ying would lie in bed negotiating with himself that he would get up at 10:15 to go grocery shopping. Only 10:15 would come and go and he'd change the negotiations, tell himself he would definitely get up at 10:45 and go. And then—somehow—10:45 would also come and go and then it would be Saturday afternoon, and then Saturday night, and there would be no groceries in his house.

With Lan Zhan, he just tells Wei Ying he'll be there at nine to meet him and he even texts him when he's off the train, so Wei Ying has time to roll out of bed and struggle into yesterday's jeans. And then Lan Zhan will ask him what he's eating this week so Wei Ying will actually need to think about it on the bus ride to the store and anyway, that's how he ends up with actual vegetables in his house that he ends up cooking and eating.

"I'm going to get scurvy," he says now, as Lan Zhan pulls away from the kiss.

To give him credit, Lan Zhan doesn't let that throw him off. He just drags his mouth down Wei Ying's jaw and says, "Hm?" in this low voice, right next to his ear.

It's hot. How does Lan Zhan make that hot? Wei Ying whimpers a little and shifts underneath him. "If you don't come to take me grocery shopping," he explains, his voice coming out breathless and uneven.

"I'll always take you grocery shopping," Lan Zhan says, just before he sucks Wei Ying's earlobe into his mouth.

Wei Ying groans—he feels that throughout his entire body, even before Lan Zhan bites down just a little, just right. "Please," he gasps, and fuck, he sounds like he's in a porn movie, his voice all raspy, but he can't help it, anymore than he can help the moans coming out of his mouth as Lan Zhan shifts a little to one side, so he can run his hand down Wei Ying's body and start undoing his jeans one-handed. His fingers are brushing against Wei Ying's cock through the denim and Wei Ying is whimpering, he thinks, but maybe Lan Zhan can't hear it, as he's gone back to kissing Wei Ying, his tongue in his mouth again. He gets Wei Ying's jeans open, easing the zipper down over Wei Ying's erection.

"Is this okay?" Lan Zhan asks in his sex voice, which is completely unfair. Ten minutes ago, Wei Ying didn't know what Lan Zhan's sex voice sounded like. Now he knows, and he can't come back from that, he can't, it's impossible, even before Lan Zhan reaches inside his jeans and pulls his cock out of his underwear.

"Yes," Wei Ying pants. "Yes, fuck, yes, it's okay, it's more than okay, it's perfect, please, just—oh fuck, please."

Lan Zhan's definitely listening to him, because he wraps his hand around his cock and—fuck, he has huge hands, Wei Ying knows he has huge hands, he's spent more than a little bit of time studying Lan Zhan's hands, but that had been in the abstract, like, oh, Lan Zhan has really nice hands. Now, he's not going to be able to look at Lan Zhan's hands without thinking about how they're the exact right size to encompass his cock and stroke it absolutely perfectly.

"Fuck, I can't believe you're doing this. I can't believe we're doing this. Please don't stop doing this, please, just—" He has to stop and gulp, as Lan Zhan gives a particularly nice upward stroke of his hand. Wei Ying is leaking all over the place and he'd be embarrassed about it, maybe, but it's making the slide epically good, and Lan Zhan is gazing down at him with dark eyes as he strokes him off. So maybe Lan Zhan doesn't mind the mess. "Lan Zhan," he says, because even as he's this close to coming—and he is, he's closer than he should be, and maybe that's because it's been forever since he got laid, but realistically, he thinks it's because Lan Zhan is really, really good at this.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, again in that rough, hot sex voice.

It is not Wei Ying's fault that that makes him whimper—again—and move underneath him, shoving his cock up into Lan Zhan's hand. Lan Zhan doesn't let that throw off his rhythm, anymore than the fact that he's pressing his own—extremely hard and apparently huge cock—against his hip as he strokes him off. Wei Ying can feel how big his cock has to be, and he's so mad that he's, like, ten seconds from coming right in Lan Zhan's fist and he hasn't even seen it yet.

"I'm going to come, fuck, I can't help it, I'm so fucking close, you're killing me, I'm—" He can't shut up, even as his orgasm gets closer and closer. His voice is too high and too desperate and Lan Zhan will never, ever want to do this again, not with him, but Wei Ying can't worry about that, not right now. His whole body is tensing up and he buries his face against Lan Zhan's shoulder and digs his teeth in against his t-shirt as he cries out and comes, spilling over Lan Zhan's fingers for what feels like a very long time.

He's so lost in it, the tremors of aftershocks running through him until he wonders if he'll ever be able to stop shaking, that he almost misses the fact that Lan Zhan's strokes falter right there at the end, and that Lan Zhan, too, is trembling hard against him, groaning against Wei Ying's neck. The sounds he's making as he very definitely comes in his pants, his cock pressed up against Wei Ying's hip, are going directly into Wei Ying's spank bank. For, like, the foreseeable future.

Lan Zhan's body settles down against him, and he's heavy, he's really heavy, but it's such a good weight that Wei Ying can't help the really embarrassing sigh that he gives. He always feels like he's a little unmoored after that sort of a mind-blowing orgasm and Lan Zhan's weight on top of him makes him feel the exact right type of pinned down.

He wraps one leg around Lan Zhan's hip to secure him there, so he won't pull away, not just yet. His heart is still beating unsteadily in his chest and he's still trying really hard to figure out how they went from a Saturday afternoon that had been just like every other Saturday afternoon, with Wei Ying making Lan Zhan take him with him on his errands (Wei Ying's only errand being make Lan Zhan take me to Starbucks), to them putting away Lan Zhan's groceries in his kitchen, to, well.

"You kissed me," Wei Ying says, his brain still blown by that realization.

Lan Zhan pushes himself a little and Wei Ying tightens his leg to keep him in place, but Lan Zhan is only going far enough that he can look down at Wei Ying. "I did more than just kiss you," he says.

He's got that reasonable tone going on, but his cheeks are really flushed, still, and his hair is all tousled in a way it very rarely gets, and he looks a little bit undone, which is doing nothing to calm down Wei Ying's heartbeat. "You sure did," he says helplessly.

Lan Zhan had been putting stuff away in the fridge, bent over as he rearranged the vegetable drawers, and a well-known fact of Wei Ying's life is that Lan Zhan has a phenomenal ass. It really draws the eye. Wei Ying had given up helping with the groceries and had hopped up on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs and chatting about, god, he's pretty sure it was about Pokemon, and keeping a careful eye on Lan Zhan's ass, because it would be a real shame for it to go unadmired and Wei Ying wouldn't let that happen, not on his watch.

And then—he's not exactly sure what happened. Lan Zhan, apparently satisfied with his vegetable organization, had stood up, closing the fridge door and turning around. Wei Ying had dragged his eyes up from his ass, maybe a little slower than usual, and Lan Zhan's face, when he'd met his eyes, had been startled.

"Sorry," Wei Ying had said, shrugging even as he'd felt his face go hot. "It's not my fault, look at you." He'd made his tone cheerful—he knows he had, he'd been determined to play it off the way he has for years now. Literally years.

And again, he's not one hundred percent sure what happened, only that between one moment and the next, Lan Zhan was across the room, and up against him, between his legs and pressing Wei Ying back against the cabinets as he kissed him, hot and thorough. He knows Lan Zhan's hands had been on his thighs, and he knows that after a single, startled second, Wei Ying had moaned into Lan Zhan's mouth. Lan Zhan had kept kissing him, and Wei Ying had been kissing him back, and he knows his legs had been wrapped around Lan Zhan's waist without him making any sort of an active decision about it.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says now, and oh, right, he'd maybe wandered off in his head a little bit there.

"I'm here," Wei Ying says, and he'd thought about going for that cheerful tone again, but the way his heart is beating makes him not want to play it off. Not this time. "Lan Zhan, you—we made out."

Lan Zhan nods, his expression grave.

"We made out, and you carried me in here—carried me, Lan Zhan, and I'm not a small dude!"

Lan Zhan nods again. "You were wrapped around me fairly firmly," he says. "That did help."

Like a limpet, Wei Ying thinks. He had been. He'd barely been aware that they'd been moving, too caught up in the making out to pay attention.

"We fucked on the couch." Wei Ying's not sure why he's become some sort of designated reporter, making sure they both are on the same page with regard to being aware of what they'd just done, but he can't seem to stop it.

Lan Zhan pushes himself back a little bit more, which is the opposite of what Wei Ying wants to happen. "We did." He still sounds grave, but also a little uncertain. He's eased himself off of Wei Ying, sitting up next to him as Wei Ying scrambles to put himself back together a little, tucking his dick away and doing up his jeans and writing his t-shirt away as a lost cause, since it's pretty much covered in come.

Wei Ying hates that uncertain tone. Lan Zhan shouldn't have to feel uncertain about anything, and definitely not about this. "You blew my tiny little mind," he declares.

Lan Zhan's mouth gives a twitch, like he wants to smile. Wei Ying loves that little mouth twitch. It's better than a full-on grin on anyone else.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying whispers. He feels like he has to whisper it. It feels too intimate, too dangerous, to say all of this too loudly. "I really liked it."

Lan Zhan nods. "I really like you," he says. Says it right out, like that's something that humans just do. Like that's something Wei Ying is supposed to deal with.

"Fuck," he says helplessly. "Yeah, me too. You, I mean. I really like you."

Lan Zhan's cheeks have just gone back to normal but now he flushes pink.

Fuck, Wei Ying likes him so much.

"I like you a lot," he says firmly, wanting to make things absolutely clear. "I like you in a sexy way. I have for...a long time." For years, possibly. Probably.

The tips of Lan Zhan's ears go red but he doesn't stop looking at Wei Ying. "Good," he says, his tone fierce, like this is something really important.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Wei Ying says, and it comes out overly fond, and he doesn't care. "Kiss me again?" Just to make sure.

Lan Zhan does, leaning in, his hand wrapped around Wei Ying's side, pressing him back against the couch. It's a good kiss. It's a really good kiss. They're halfway back to fucking on the couch by the time Wei Ying comes up for air. "Okay," he says breathlessly. "So yeah, it wasn't a fluke."

Lan Zhan shakes his head, his eyes wide and dark, looking like he wants to swoop back in and kiss Wei Ying some more.

"Wait," Wei Ying says, like an idiot, because why the fuck would he want to wait for a single second before making out with Lan Zhan some more? "Wait, though."

Lan Zhan sits back, his hands resting on his thighs, because he's someone who always listens to what Wei Ying has to say. Why has it taken Wei Ying so long to realize that?

"We really can't tell anyone," Wei Ying says. "It's important. I can't—Jiang Cheng would never let me hear the end of it." Jiang Cheng has been telling him to quit being so embarrassing around Lan Zhan, have some shame, I can see your crush from space for approximately forever. Wei Ying has gotten into more than one wrestling match with Jiang Cheng over his insistence that he doesn't have a crush on Lan Zhan. He can't let Jiang Cheng win this one.

Lan Zhan nods. "I, too, would prefer to not hear your brother's thoughts on this matter."

Wei Ying laughs out loud at that. He can't help it. He thinks he's giddy. "Glad we're in agreement. And also, listen, if Nie Huaisang knew, that would be the end of life as we know it. He'd post about it everywhere. And he'd eviscerate us doing it, you know he would."

Nie Huaisang has an absurd number of followers on every social media site he uses. He's Wei Ying's best friend in the world, next to Lan Zhan, sure, but he's also the master of sly, sideways judgement, and Wei Ying is pretty sure he and Lan Zhan would have not a single moment of privacy for the foreseeable future if Nie Huaisang got a hold of this information. Also if anyone would make his life an absolute living hell on a daily basis regarding Wei Ying's utter lack of insight into his own feelings and emotions, Nie Huaisang comes right after Jiang Cheng on that.

Lan Zhan nods again, his expression serious, and Wei Ying's heart gives this series of tumbling beats all in a row just watching him. Oh, he's fucked. He's so fucked. He likes Lan Zhan so much. So much.

"So we're in agreement?" he asks, and he's not sure how he's ended up leaning in close to Lan Zhan, but he has. He's close enough to see Lan Zhan's individual eyelashes, close enough to see his pupils go dark as he nods, again, silently. "Well, good. That's good. Do you, uh, want to make out some more?"

Another nod, and then Wei Ying is being slowly pressed back down against the couch, and he finds he doesn't have very much he needs to worry about right now, not at all.

"Hey," Wei Ying says, sliding up onto the barstool next to Jiang Cheng.

"You're late," Jiang Cheng says with deep exasperation, but he pushes a pint of beer over to Wei Ying, so he can't actually be that mad about it.

"I know, sorry." Wei Ying takes a gulp of beer to shut himself up from saying he's late because he and Lan Zhan had fooled around on Lan Zhan's couch until the afternoon light started fading around them and Wei Ying had been extremely close to coming in his pants. He'd extracted himself from Lan Zhan slowly, and regretfully, and desperately wished he hadn't made plans with his brother for tonight.

"But that's part of it," he'd said to Lan Zhan. "Keeping this on the downlow. Hush-hush. Between us. If I start flaking out on plans, even more so than usual, that's going to be a red flag."

Lan Zhan had nodded. He'd still been hard. Wei Ying could see it through his jeans. It made him want to climb into his lap.

"So I've got to go because—" He looked down at himself, his t-shirt stained with come, his own cock also quite obviously still hard through his jeans. "Well, I'm a disaster and I definitely need a shower before I meet him."

"Shower here," Lan Zhan had said instantly. His eyes had flickered a little, like he was already picturing Wei Ying, naked and wet in a steamy shower and—

"I can't," Wei Ying had said desperately. "If I take a shower here—" And then Wei Ying had been thinking about being wet and naked and in Lan Zhan's shower, only Lan Zhan was in there with him, and— "then I'll never go to the fucking bar to meet my fucking brother."

Lan Zhan had nodded regretfully, as though the exact same thoughts had gone through his head. And Wei Ying's mind had still been blown. Was he ever going to get used to this? The idea that he wanted to take a shower with Lan Zhan, wanted to be wet and naked with Lan Zhan, fuck, wanted to suck Lan Zhan's cock in the shower, wanted to hear Lan Zhan's moans echoing off of the tiles while he fucked Wei Ying's mouth—and that Lan Zhan looked like he very probably wanted that too, well. That was—it was just—

"Hello." Jiang Cheng is snapping his fingers in front of Wei Ying's face, looking irritated. "Oh, look, you came back, will wonders never cease?" He took a drink from his own beer. "What the fuck is going on, why are you weirder than usual?"

Wei Ying shakes his head hurriedly. "I'm not," he says. "I'm just as weird as I always am."

Jiang Cheng snorts, shaking his head. "Focus up," he says. "I need help and it should really tell you something that I'm actually desperate enough to ask you for it, okay?"

Wei Ying whistles. "That does sound serious," he says. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but he really does look worried about something, chewing on his lip a little as he avoids Wei Ying's eyes. "Talk to me. I am here for you. Is it about Wen Qing? It's gotta be about Wen Qing. It's always about Wen Qing."

"Shut the fuck up," Jiang Cheng says. "You don't know my life. I have all kinds of problems. And why would I come to you of all people for help with my love life? You can't even manage your own situation."

"I don't have a situation," Wei Ying says, taking another sip of beer, and totally nailing the casual tone he'd been going for. "I'm footloose and fancy-free."

Jiang Cheng snorts again. "You're an idiot, that's what you are. When was the last time you even went on a date? I honestly can't remember. You're too busy mooning over Lan Zhan to even notice when someone is hitting on you. You're going to die sad and alone and you'll still be insisting you have a 'normal level of interest' in Lan Zhan." He says that last part in a tone that's clearly supposed to be Wei Ying and Wei Ying would be offended by how badly he got it, but also, well.

"I do have a normal level of interest in Lan Zhan," he says. It's true. Even before this afternoon, he'd go to the mat about this one. It's normal to need to watch Lan Zhan and every move he makes and be fascinated by his weird ability to be an adult and do everyday life things while being as unbelievably beautiful as he is. And since this afternoon, well. Okay. Maybe he'd be willing to admit that his own personal fascination with Lan Zhan might possibly have skirted a line of more than friendship, but that is the exact reason that Jiang Cheng absolutely does not need to know anything about the two of them and what's going on there.

"Look at you," Jiang Cheng says with a certain amount of exhaustion in his voice. "You disappeared again, just because I said his damn name. Anyway—" He raises his hand, gets the bartender's attention, and gestures at their two glasses, asking for another round even though Wei Ying is only half-done with his beer. "So listen, about Wen Qing."

Wei Ying does not grin broadly at that, because he is a good brother who doesn't always need to tease about the fact that Jiang Cheng seems just as tied up in knots about Wen Qing now that they're dating as he had been back when he'd been trying to build up the courage to ask her out.

"Talk to me," he says, leaning in and making a concerted effort to stop thinking about Lan Zhan in the shower. "I'm listening. I can help."

"You definitely can't," Jiang Cheng says flatly.

"Then why did you ask me?" Wei Ying takes several quick gulps of his beer, trying to catch up.

Jiang Cheng glowers—not at Wei Ying but just a generalized glowering at the world in general. He's very good at glowering. He's got it down to a science.

Wei Ying waits him out. He knows Jiang Cheng and he knows that Jiang Cheng isn't going to talk to him until he has a fresh beer in front of him. Wei Ying can be patient. And he knows he can help.

Once the bartender brings them their new round—Wei Ying gulps the last of his first beer down and hands him the glass with a flourish—Jiang Cheng heaves a sigh and reaches into his pocket, extracting a small box and shoving it across the bar to Wei Ying.

"Jiang Cheng," Wei Ying breathes in delight, picking it up and cracking it open. "Oh my god."

"Did you just propose to him?" Wei Ying only jumps a little as hand lands on his shoulder. It's Nie Huaisang. Of course it's Nie Huaisang. He's leaning over Wei Ying's shoulder, studying the diamond ring inside the box in Wei Ying's hand. "I thought you two crazy kids would never get it together."

Jiang Cheng looks alarmed, reaching to try to grab the box back from Wei Ying but Wei Ying makes an annoyed sound and twists his body away so Jiang Cheng can't get at the box. "I haven't even had a chance to look at it yet," he says, swatting Jiang Cheng's hand away as he peers down at the—genuinely beautiful—ring nestled in velvet in the box. "Fuck, Jiang Cheng, look at the size of that thing."

"That's what she said," Nie Huaisang murmurs absently. A drink has appeared in front of him, though Wei Ying never saw him even make eye contact with the bartender, and it's an alarming shade of pink, with several cherries floating in it. "Also that set you back, what, eleven K?" He takes a sip of his drink, still looking at the ring. "Nah, that had to be fifteen."

"Fifteen five," Jiang Cheng admits. "And if you fucking tweet a single word about this, I'll—"

"Me?" Nie Huaisang raises his hands, moving to slip into the seat beside Wei Ying. "I would never."

Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying just look at him.

"Okay, okay, but not in the face of true love," Nie Huaisang says. "I'd never fuck up a good surprise proposal."

Jiang Cheng slugs Wei Ying on the shoulder until he finally hands the ring back over. "Yeah, well, that's part of the problem."

"The surprise," Wei Ying says slowly. "Right?"

"Yeah." Jiang Cheng looks miserable. "I should have waited to buy it. I should have made sure she'll like it. What if she doesn't like it? What if she doesn't want it to be a surprise? What if she doesn't even want me to ask? I should just return it." He sits up straight, nodding his head like he's pleased to have sorted everything out. "That's what I'll do. It'll be fine."

Nie Huaisang is looking at him admiringly. "I have never seen anyone get in his own way as much as you," he says. "It's a skill, really. Wow. Cheers."

Jiang Cheng refuses to lift his glass. "What? It's fine. Go away." He directs that part at Wei Ying. "I don't need you anymore."

"Oh, man." Wei Ying shakes his head. Jiang Cheng is, truly, a piece of work. "Drink your beer. Let's talk it out."

It's a lengthy discussion—Wei Ying has never, honestly, met anyone with this remarkable ability to be completely pining over the person he is in a serious, sexual, committed relationship with. Wen Qing is, for some unknown reason, completely in love with Jiang Cheng, and has made it clear many, many times.

By the end of the next round, Jiang Cheng has conceded the point that he probably shouldn't return the ring. He's still remarkably uncertain but he's grinning, just a little, as Wei Ying talks earnestly about how much Wen Qing loves him and how gross they are together, so that's a step in the right direction.

Wei Ying glances over his shoulder at the door, then gets the bartender's attention, gesturing for another round. "And a seltzer," he adds.

Jiang Cheng groans. "Wei Ying," he says.

"Shut up," Wei Ying says, hopping off the stool. "Look, a table just opened up. Huaisang, go grab it, I'll get the drinks."

Nie Huiasang dutifully moves to the newly-vacated table. Wei Ying watches as Lan Zhan approaches from the doorway. He wants to sling his arm around him. He wants to go up on his toes and kiss him. He's flooded with a sense memory of Lan Zhan's hand wrapped around his cock and he can't catch his breath for a moment.

"Hi," he manages. "C'mere, we got a table." He'd usually push his arm through Lan Zhan's and drag him along—it's what he always does, but if he does it now, will it be obvious that they've...done more than that? That the casual touching had actually led to something and now they're, well. They hadn't actually discussed what they were, just that—

"Oh my god, get out of my way." Jiang Cheng shoves by Wei Ying, making him spill some of his beer over his hand.

Lan Zhan frowns. It's cute. He looks a little like he wants to murder Jiang Cheng on Wei Ying's behalf. Wei Ying licks the beer off his hand and dries it on his jeans. "Don't worry about it, he's going through a personal crisis," he explains to Lan Zhan and—fuck it—pushes his hand through his arm, tugging him over to the table.

Jiang Cheng is sitting sullenly beside Nie Huaisang, glaring at his beer. "I'm not having a crisis," he bites out.

"You kind of are," Nie Huaisang points out. "You're all red in the face. Look at you." He takes a sip of his fruity drink, then works on fishing out one of the cherries with the sparkly swizzle stick they included as part of his beverage. "Show Lan Zhan the ring."

Jiang Cheng glares at Nie Huaisang instead of his beer. "Shut up," he says. "I don't need his help. Or yours. Or yours," he says, pointing at each of them in turn.

Lan Zhan has been sitting quietly beside Wei Ying, watching Jiang Cheng's breakdown. "You intend to ask Wen Qing to marry you," he says.

Jiang Cheng scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. "No," he says. "That's an incredibly dumb idea."

Wei Ying starts to lean up against Lan Zhan's side, the way he always does, but pulls back, because, well. What if he does that and it makes everything incredibly obvious? He's never exactly been allowed to do it—Lan Zhan let it happen, but that was just because Wei Ying enjoys nothing better than pushing boundaries. Particularly Lan Zhan's boundaries. He's been doing it forever. For years. For so long that it was just that, just a thing he did, and he'd never expected to—

Lan Zhan reaches out his hand, calmly looking at Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it might hurt, then makes a little, sad snarling noise and digs the ring box out of his pocket and carefully hands it to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan opens the box and studies the ring. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang both watch him very closely, Nie Huaisang sipping his drink through its tiny straw, Jiang Cheng's eyes looking a little crazed and apprehensive. Wei Ying is also watching Lan Zhan, but he's not thinking about the ring—which of course Wen Qing is going to love, and of course Wen Qing is going to say yes to. He's still sort of caught up in a feedback loop of wondering if all those years he'd been pushing Lan Zhan's boundaries, he'd really been wanting...more. He didn't really—he certainly hadn't been aware of—he'd only just done it out of—

Lan Zhan closes the ring box and hands it back to Jiang Cheng with a nod. "It's a good size. Not ostentatious, but the quality is clearly extremely good. Two carats?"

Jiang Cheng nods. He looks anxious. Wei Ying reaches over and pats his hand. It says something about Jiang Cheng's state of mind that he doesn't yank his hand away like he usually does.

"From what I know of Wen Qing's taste, I believe this will be more than satisfactory for her." Lan Zhan's known Wen Qing since graduate school, and he's known about Jiang Cheng's crush on her for, perhaps, longer than even Jiang Cheng has—he'd denied it for way, way too long.

"More than satisfactory," Jiang Cheng repeats. "Does that mean you think she'll like it?" He sounds like he's gritting the words out but he's also staring at Lan Zhan, waiting for his answer.

Lan Zhan nods, and Wei Ying beams at him, and then at Jiang Cheng. "Lan Zhan never lies, Jiang Cheng," he says solemnly. "He doesn't blow smoke. I don't think he could if he tried. Right, Lan Zhan?" He does lean up against Lan Zhan, then—he's decided it would be weirder not to. And besides, he wants to—it's comforting to just drape himself over Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan doesn't pull away, not even when Wei Ying drops his hand onto his thigh—which yeah, okay, is also something he usually does, which in retrospect is maybe a little odd.

Lan Zhan's looking at Jiang Cheng. "Are you going to surprise her with it?"

Jiang Cheng nods, then shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't know. I think that—she's not a big surprise person. But I want it to be special. But also I don't want her to murder me."

Lan Zhan nods thoughtfully. "Do not do it in public."

"Oh my god, no." Jiang Cheng's face goes white at the very thought. "Definitely not."

"She absolutely would murder you if you tried that," Wei Ying says cheerfully. "How's your seltzer, Lan Zhan? Is it okay? I thought about getting you a spritzer. You're sometimes in the mood for a spritzer."

"The seltzer is fine," Lan Zhan says. He shifts next to Wei Ying, dislodging him from where he's leaning up against him. Wei Ying pouts, leaning his elbow on the table and gazing at Lan Zhan with sad eyes. It's great. It's totally cool. They're acting just like they always do, and no one is the wiser. Wei Ying had worried they'd be too obvious but this is really so par for the course that he himself is a little weirded out by it, like the making out on the couch this afternoon was just a daydream or something.

"Well, good. Okay, we've sorted out all of Jiang Cheng's life problems. A success!" Wei Ying lifts his glass in a toast, and the other three of them follow suit, Jiang Cheng still looking a little morose, but less intense about it than he had been.

"Now, on to more important things." Nie Huaisang leans in over the table. "I have got to tell you about this guy I picked up last night. You will not believe me when I tell you where he had a tattoo."

The story is long and extremely detailed and it does seem to serve the purpose of distracting Jiang Cheng, but Wei Ying loses the thread almost immediately. Lan Zhan seems to be politely listening to Nie Huaisang, taking an occasional sip of his seltzer, and completely ignoring Wei Ying. It's nothing unusual—a lot of evenings consist of Wei Ying trying to push Lan Zhan's buttons while Lan Zhan pays him no mind. Maybe most evenings.

But all Wei Ying can think about is how something shifted this afternoon and it's making him crazy that he can't even pinpoint what. Every time he thinks about Lan Zhan up against him at the kitchen counter, he gets hot all over. He keeps going over it, again and again in his head: the moment right there in the kitchen, the handful of seconds between Lan Zhan looking at him and then coming over to him, so quick that it was like he'd just snapped, like all it had taken after literally years of what was, apparently, extreme sexual tension between them was Lan Zhan allowing himself to just go for it.

Wei Ying feels almost dazed just thinking about how hard Lan Zhan had gone for it. About how bad he wants Lan Zhan to go for it again. Was it a one-time thing? It can't have been. They actually talked about it. Wei Ying had meant what he said, about liking Lan Zhan in a sexy way. In more than a sexy way. In every way. And Lan Zhan had said it back. Or, well. Said something like it. He didn't lie, though. Lan Zhan never lies, Wei Ying was telling the truth about that. So—

There's a long whistle and Wei Ying jerks his head up, startled.

"Ah, good, you're back," Nie Huaisang says. "Have a nice thought-journey there? Ready to come back to your friends?"

"Okay, shut up," Wei Ying says. "Some of us are big thinkers, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Nie Huaisang says agreeably. "That's all you do, is think. One of the great minds of our generation."

"That's me," Wei Ying says distractedly. Lan Zhan's not chiming in. Not teasing him, in his own, dry way.

"I'm getting another round," Jiang Cheng says, shaking his head. "Huaisang, come help me. And you—" He points at Wei Ying. "You wake the fuck up by the time I get back."

"I'm awake," Wei Ying says, still looking at the side of Lan Zhan's face. "I'm super awake, I'm totally here." Is Lan Zhan ignoring him? He thinks he might be ignoring him.

Jiang Cheng blows his breath out in a sigh of exasperation and heads to the bar, Nie Huaisang trailing behind him, quickly sucking the rest of his drink down as he goes.

"Hey," Wei Ying says to Lan Zhan immediately. "Hey, listen, are we—"

Lan Zhan turns to him, his eyes seriously dark and incredibly intense. He's dropped his hand to Wei Ying's thigh, way higher up than Wei Ying's had been on Lan Zhan's. High enough up that his fingers are definitely, one hundred percent tracing along the inseam, so close to his cock that Wei Ying can't catch his breath for a second. "Wei Ying," he says, and his eyes flicker down to his lips and back up again and, oh fuck, okay, this afternoon hadn't been a daydream.

"Fuck, Lan Zhan," he breathes. "Your face, I can't—" He feels like he's been shoved up against a wall, like Lan Zhan is pinning him there, even though he's still just got his hand resting on his thigh under the table, out of sight.

Lan Zhan is still looking at him, and his face is raw, and open, and Wei Ying wants to kiss him. Needs to kiss him. Wants to climb into his lap right here at the table. He takes a deep breath and then another, and tries to look away.

"You see," Lan Zhan says, "why it's rather difficult for me to look at you this evening."

"I do." Wei Ying's voice comes out a little hoarse. The sound of the bar seems to have faded around them and he knows they're surrounded by people, knows that his brother is coming back soon, knows that this thing between him and Lan Zhan needs to stay a secret, just between them. None of that seems to matter and he's this close to swaying forward when Lan Zhan slowly pulls his hand back off of Wei Ying's thigh and turns back to his seltzer.

"Here." It's Jiang Cheng, shoving a beer across the table at Wei Ying. Wei Ying takes it, his fingers feeling slightly numb. His thigh feels chilly without the warm weight of Lan Zhan's hand on it. He thinks he's a little bit hard. He feels even more dazed than before.

"Thanks," he manages, shooting Jiang Cheng a grin.

Jiang Cheng just rolls his eyes again. "It's going to be one of those nights, huh."

"What?" Wei Ying protests. He wonders if he can get away with putting his hand on Lan Zhan's leg. He does it all the time. He thinks if he does it tonight, he might not be able to stop at just that.

"Where you're weirder than usual for the whole fucking night and we end up having to explain every conversation to you three times," Jiang Cheng says with a sigh. "I don't know how you put up with him."

This last part is directed at Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan gives Jiang Cheng a cool look.

"Here," Nie Huaisang says cheerfully, presenting Lan Zhan with a fresh seltzer. "We got them to spruce it up a little." There's a toothpick with a lime and two cherries skewered on it, and a curl of orange peel hanging jauntily over the side of the glass.

Lan Zhan gaze drops to the glass, a glimmer of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Fancy," Wei Ying exclaims, grinning at Nie Huaisang. "Why didn't I think of that? Now he's going to like you better than me."

"You lack an artistic mind, my friend." Nie Huisang takes a long sip of his new beverage, which he's clearly switched up, as it's now a particularly lurid shade of blue and has what seems to be half a fruit bowl in it. "And please, trust me, Lan Zhan is only ever going to have eyes for you. Isn't that right, Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan ignores the bait, per usual. He does, however, lift up the toothpick, tugging the lime off of it and squeezing it carefully into his drink. Then he nudges the orange peel off of the side into it, before taking the toothpick and neatly sliding one of the cherries off with his mouth.

Wei Ying watches with his mouth open. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nie Huaisang also watching, his straw caught in the corner of his mouth, drink forgotten. He's pretty sure Jiang Cheng is staring as well.

Lan Zhan chews the cherry and swallows, paying absolutely no attention to the rapt audience he has garnered. He uses the toothpick with the remaining cherry on it to swirl his drink, then holds it out to Wei Ying silently. He's not looking at him, but Wei Ying is flushed with heat from head to toe and he thinks there is a possibility he might die here in this fancy bar.

He fumbles a bit, taking the toothpick out of Lan Zhan's hand. He's staring. He knows he's staring. Lan Zhan still looks cool as a cucumber, taking a small sip of his drink and looking up at Nie Huaisang. "Thank you," he says, his voice so soft Wei Ying can barely hear him over the noise of the bar.

"No, no." Nie Huaisang seems to finally remember the straw in his mouth, and takes a long sip of his drink. "Thank you. That was a hell of a move." His tone is full of admiration that he usually reserves for a particularly well-filtered Instagram shot. "I'm going to use that one. Can I use that one?"

Lan Zhan blinks at him slowly and if you didn't know Lan Zhan, you'd believe that what he'd done just now was completely unintentional.

Wei Ying is still clutching the toothpick in his hand. He knows he's staring at Lan Zhan. He thinks he might be giving away the game, but he can't stop. "Thanks," he says finally, sliding the cherry off of the toothpick and popping it into his mouth. He's never in a hundred years ever going to be able to make it as sexy as Lan Zhan just had, so he's not even going to try.

"See?" Nie Huaisang says reasonably. "I told you you're his favorite."

"Sure," Wei Ying says absent-mindedly. His brain is blown, not responding to anything except Lan Zhan. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Mn," Lan Zhan says, and takes another sip of his drink.

"I hate everyone in this bar," Jiang Cheng says morosely, sagging down and propping his head up on his elbow. "Why do I even hang out with you guys?"

"Just lucky, I guess." Nie Huaisang pats his shoulder, then fishes around in his drink, extracting a cherry of his own and holding it out to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng glares at him until Nie Huaisang shrugs and pops it in his own mouth. "Your loss," he says. "Now go ahead and drink more of your shitty IPA and tell us about how you're going to get that girl to marry you."

Jiang Cheng groans and drops his head to rest it on the table in front of him.

Nie Huaisang studies him for a moment, shaking his head. "That's not a great first move. But it's okay," he says cheerfully, patting his shoulder again. "We'll workshop it."

Jiang Cheng is well past tipsy by the time they leave the bar, even though it's barely nine. Nie Huaisang should definitely be drunk by now, given the number of increasingly alarmingly-colored beverages he's had, but he seems, as ever, fine, or at least no more off-balance and cheerful than he usually is. "I've got him," he says, tucking his arm through Jiang Cheng's arm as Jiang Cheng glares down at him blearily. "My place is closer, he can crash with me."

"Wen Qing," Jiang Cheng says anxiously, staring down at him. "I've got to—"

"No, you do not," Wei Ying says. "I've texted her, she knows you're staying with Sang-Sang tonight. You cannot go to her place right now." He points his finger sternly at Jiang Cheng. "You would absolutely drunkenly ask her to marry you and you'd probably cry while you were doing it."

Jiang Cheng glares at Wei Ying for a moment then nods sadly. He pats his pocket where the ring box is. "I shouldn't do that," he says. "Right?"

"Right," Wei Ying says. "Correct. Make him drink water," he says to Nie Huaisang. "Don't let him have his phone."

"Hey," Jiang Cheng says, trying to make a grab for it, but Nie Huaisang has already deftly pulled it out of Jiang Cheng's pocket and tucked it into his own. "I'm fine."

He staggers a little and Nie Huaisang holds up a warning finger. "Do not fall down," he says. "You will crush me."

"Right." Jiang Cheng pats his shoulder, nearly missing it. "You're just a little guy."

"You sure you don't want to take him?" Nie Huaisang asks Wei Ying with a wounded look. "He's your brother. Shouldn't you be responsible for this?"

"Nope," Wei Ying says cheerfully, wrapping his arms around himself. It's gotten cold since they've been in the bar. He's freezing. He should have worn a warmer jacket. "My place is two train changes away. He's going to pass out in, like, less than ten minutes. Look at him."

They all look at Jiang Cheng, who is blinking up at the streetlights, still glaring at little, like they've offended him.

"Correct," Nie Huaisang says. "Okay, let's go, big guy."

"Get home safe," Wei Ying says. His teeth are chattering just a little.

Nie Huaisang pauses. "Why are you guys acting so weird tonight? Lan Zhan, look at him, he's going to perish. You'd have at least usually made him take your scarf. Do you want your favorite person to die of cold?"

"I'm fine," Wei Ying protests. "Just go."

Nie Huaisang shrugs and heads off with Jiang Cheng walking slightly off-kilter beside him.

"Well," Wei Ying says brightly, turning to Lan Zhan. He doesn't want to assume anything. This afternoon could have maybe been a fluke. Even though what Lan Zhan said in the bar, and the look he'd given Wei Ying—smoldering, is the only way he can really describe it—maybe, possibly indicates otherwise. "What do you—"

Lan Zhan is already wrapping his scarf around Wei Ying's neck. It's incredibly soft—probably cashmere, if Wei Ying knows anything about Lan Zhan—and still warm from Lan Zhan's skin. He can't help the shiver that runs down his spine, even though he's almost immediately warmer. "You are freezing," Lan Zhan says.

"I'm fine," Wei Ying insists again. He's staring. He knows he's staring.

"Hm," Lan Zhan says. He's staring too. That's good. Wei Ying wants that; he wants Lan Zhan's attention on him. He feels like he's been starving for it all night.

"You want to go somewhere?" Wei Ying asks. "Get another drink? Or maybe some tea? There's that Russian tea room nearby, we could go. I'd get a vodka, you'd get tea, we could—"

Lan Zhan is shaking his head slowly.

"No?" Wei Ying says. "You too tired? Want to go home?"

"Yes," Lan Zhan says. He's looking down at Wei Ying, not moving, and fuck, Wei Ying is warm all over. Why is he still shivering, if he's this warm?

Wei Ying swallows and bites the bullet. "Want to take me with you?"

"Yes." Lan Zhan's eyes flicker with something like gratification, and Wei Ying feels like he got the answer right on a test, like Lan Zhan is proud of him or something.

"Okay," he says, and he's still shivering, but can't stop the grin that slides across his face. "Well, then, let's go."

Lan Zhan gets them home swiftly. Wei Ying had half-expected Lan Zhan to call them a car, but Lan Zhan has no patience for ride services. He's only a few train stops away and the ride goes by in a blur. Wei Ying can't stop looking at Lan Zhan in the overly-well-lit subway car—Lan Zhan, with his usual, stoic expression when he takes public transport. He's been watching Lan Zhan through the flickering lights of subway tunnels for what feels like his whole entire life, but this time, Lan Zhan is taking him home with intention. This time, it's something more. Wei Ying feels like something's unraveling in his stomach and it's the same sort of feeling he'd had this afternoon, where he wants to keep this to himself. He doesn't want to tell his brother; he doesn't even want to tell jiejie. It's not that it doesn't feel real yet—it's that it feels almost too real, like this is something important, something bigger than what he can actually comprehend, right now.

He wants to keep that for himself. Just for right now.

Lan Zhan glances down at him, just for a moment. His look is warm, and even though it lasts for only a second or two, Wei Ying feels it all the way down his spine. He tucks his face into Lan Zhan's scarf, breathing in his scent of sage and sandalwood, and he doesn't think he quite manages to hide the smile that spreads across his face.

When they get home, when the door is closed firmly behind them, shoes toed off, coats hung up, it's just the two of them in the dimness of Lan Zhan's living room, Lan Zhan moves so he's very close to Wei Ying. Wei Ying has to tilt his head up to look at him—Lan Zhan's not that much taller than he is, but it's just enough. "Hi," he says.

Lan Zhan doesn't respond. He just reaches forward, unraveling his scarf from around Wei Ying's neck.

Wei Ying waits. He can feel his pulse jumping in his neck.

Lan Zhan lets the scarf drop to the floor.

"That's cashmere," Wei Ying says weakly.

Lan Zhan moves forward and puts his hands on Wei Ying's hips. He's watching him very, very intently, and oh, he's backing him up, step by careful step, until his back hits the wall behind him gently. Lan Zhan doesn't pause then, crushing their mouths together, and all of Wei Ying's breath leaves him in a rush.

Lan Zhan tilts his head and presses him back harder, like he's trying to get closer, like he can't get close enough. "All night," Wei Ying says, panting. "All night, I've wanted—fuck, I've wanted this, you—"

Lan Zhan shuts him up by sliding his tongue into his mouth and Wei Ying isn't ever going to get used to that, will never get over Lan Zhan being bold, just taking what he wants, what he seems to need as badly as Wei Ying needs it.

Wei Ying is hitching his hips up against Lan Zhan. He's moaning, he thinks, even before Lan Zhan lets his hands drop down, grabbing Wei Ying under his ass and lifting him up, holding him against the wall. "Fuck," Wei Ying groans. His hands are in Lan Zhan's hair. He's kissing him frantically, messy. "Oh fuck, that's—"

Lan Zhan groans against Wei Ying's lips, pressing up hard against him, and then they're moving. Lan Zhan is carrying him, carrying him like he weighs next to nothing, Wei Ying's legs wrapped tightly around Lan Zhan's hips as Lan Zhan moves purposefully down the hall.

"Yes," Wei Ying pants, as Lan Zhan drops him on his bed. "Oh fuck, yes, please, I want you to—fuck, I don't even know, anything, anything."

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says. There's the sex voice again. Wei Ying thinks that he could maybe come just from Lan Zhan saying his name in his sex voice. He groans again, loud, and that's even before Lan Zhan moves down his body, pushing his shirt up, kissing his stomach.

"Why is that so hot?" Wei Ying shudders as Lan Zhan's lips, warm and wet, press against the softness he finds there. "It's so hot, you're so—"

Lan Zhan's moving lower, and he's undoing Wei Ying's jeans at the same time, swiftly, getting them open like it's no problem, like he could do this with one hand tied behind his back.

"You're so good at multitasking," Wei Ying pants out. Wei Ying isn't. He's very bad at it. He— "Oh fuck," He shoves one hand up against his mouth, biting it.

Lan Zhan has his jeans open, and he's dragged them down, along with Wei Ying's underwear. He doesn't waste any time, not a single fucking second, getting Wei Ying's cock into his mouth.

Wei Ying can't breathe. He thinks he's forgotten how. Lan Zhan's mouth is huge, and hot, and he's taking Wei Ying in like he's hungry for it. He's making quiet noises in his throat as he sucks him, and it reverberates through Wei Ying's dick. "Fuck, fuck." Wei Ying is writhing, he can't stop moving. He keeps hitching his hips up, then trying to keep still, let Lan Zhan get his rhythm going; he really wants Lan Zhan to get his rhythm going. "Please, fuck, your mouth, oh god, Lan Zhan, how am I ever going to be able to look at you after this? I just want—I'm always gonna want—"

Lan Zhan pins his hip down with one hand and Wei Ying's words get caught in his throat. He can't breathe for a second, can't do anything but press his head back against the bed.

He's clutching at Lan Zhan's shoulder with one hand, his fingers digging into the meat of it as Lan Zhan takes him in deep, and steady. Wei Ying takes in a ragged gasp, and then another as Lan Zhan swallows around him. "You're—" he manages, then has to stop, whining, when Lan Zhan's hand holds his hip down more firmly. "It's too much," he says. "Don't stop."

Lan Zhan doesn't. He's sucking him off like his mouth is meant for it, and maybe it's true; maybe this is exactly what Lan Zhan was supposed to be doing all along. He's good at it; he's so, so good at it. When Wei Ying manages to look down, Lan Zhan has a little crinkle between his eyebrows, like he does when he's concentrating very, very hard on something. It's incredibly hot, and makes Wei Ying want to push his hips up, but he can't—Lan Zhan is holding him down.

"Maybe," he pants out, because nothing can stop Wei Ying's mouth from running off. "Maybe you can do that sometime. Hold me down. Pin my hands against the bed—I bet you could do that with one hand—fuck, oh fuck—your hands are so big, you'd just hold me there, and—"

Lan Zhan swallows around him again, it feels like the head of Wei Ying's dick is in Lan Zhan's throat.

"I'm—" Wei Ying groans, pressing his head back against the bed. "Oh—"

Lan Zhan keeps going, and the rhythm he's picked up is relentless, and his mouth is hot, and wet, and perfect.

Wei Ying tries again to warn him, but he's got no words, just incoherent sounds, and then he's jerking and coming in Lan Zhan's mouth, his whole body lost in it.

He doesn't come back to himself for what feels like a long time. His head is still thrown back, and his mouth is still open, and he can't catch his breath. It takes him too long to blink his eyes open. "Come here," he says hazily. "Oh, come here, I want—"

Lan Zhan is here, he's crawled up Wei Ying's body, and Wei Ying has every intention of getting his hands on Lan Zhan's cock, immediately, or as soon as he has control of his limbs again, but Lan Zhan has his pants open already and is jerking himself off, looking desperate. "Fuck," Wei Ying whispers. "Fuck, you're so—" He can't stop staring at Lan Zhan's cock, huge and hard and sliding in and out of his fist.

Lan Zhan groans, dropping his head down as he comes all over Wei Ying's stomach. The soft, frantic sounds he's making are the hottest things Wei Ying has ever heard, and the press of Lan Zhan's forehead against his shoulder feels perfect, and right. Lan Zhan shudders, again and again, and then he's clearly done, wavering a little before collapsing down, half on top of Wei Ying, definitely smearing his come in between them.

It's a good weight. Wei Ying almost can't breathe, but it's all good, he can take it. He likes it. He should tell Lan Zhan that. "I was going to suck you off, too," is what comes out instead. "I haven't even gotten to touch your cock yet." It's a crime. A crime against humanity. A crime against Wei Ying himself, specifically.

Lan Zhan's breath is a hot puff of almost-laughter against his shoulder. "Apologies," he says, his voice coming out a little rough. Because he's been sucking dick. He'd sucked Wei Ying's dick into his throat and this is what he sounds like afterwards, and now Wei Ying knows that and is going to have to live with that knowledge. He's so happy his fingers are tingling.

Lan Zhan lifts his head finally, gazing down at Wei Ying. They hadn't even flipped the light on when they'd come in, certainly hadn't pulled the covers back. They're sprawled there on Lan Zhan's bed, messy now, smelling like sex, and the side of Lan Zhan's face is lit only by the glow of the streetlights peeking in through the window.

"You're so beautiful," Wei Ying says. He can't help it. He's told Lan Zhan this before, this fact of life that Wei Ying has had to live with, day after day. If he has to know it, Lan Zhan should know it, too. "I can't fucking take it." He's grinning up at Lan Zhan. He feels like he couldn't stop grinning if he tried. Lan Zhan looks down at him for a moment before his own mouth curves into a smile. Wei Ying whimpers, shaking his head. "You're a menace," he says, trying to sound stern and landing somewhere closer to smitten.

"No, that's you," Lan Zhan says, bending his head to kiss him. It's soft this time, sweet, and Wei Ying whimpers again, wrapping one arm around Lan Zhan's neck and tugging him close. They kiss like that, lazy and delicious, for a few minutes, but everything between them is sticky and uncomfortable. "Perhaps," Lan Zhan says, when he finally pulls back from the kiss, ignoring Wei Ying's attempt to pull him back into it. "Perhaps a shower is called for."

Wei Ying opens his eyes immediately. "Yes," he says firmly. "Yes, okay, that would be something I am definitely on board with." Lan Zhan, wet and naked and Wei Ying is going to get to see him, get to see him all over. "Right now, let's go, you've got to get off of me, you're squishing me." He wriggles under Lan Zhan, just to see the way Lan Zhan's face goes softly amused when he does it.

Lan Zhan shifts off of him then, rolling off the bed easily. He slips his pants and underwear the rest of the way down and off, and pulls off his shirt. He reaches down for Wei Ying's hand then, but Wei Ying is caught, helpless, by the planes of Lan Zhan's body, the extent of skin catching the glow of the streetlights. "Fuck," he breathes out.

Lan Zhan takes his hand and gives him a tug.

"Look at you," Wei Ying says again. "You're like that, and I'm—" He gestures down at himself, his jeans down around his knees, his shirt rucked up, his stomach covered in come and sweat.

He's pretty sure that the look Lan Zhan gives him is an admiring one, his gaze skating down Wei Ying's body like if Wei Ying gave him even the slightest encouragement, they'd be off to round two in moments.

He likes that look.

But. "I want to see you." Wei Ying scrambles off the bed, shoving his clothes the rest of the way off. "Shower," he says firmly. "Bathroom. Now. I'm gonna turn on all the lights. I might suck you off under the spray."

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, herding Wei Ying out the door and into the bathroom down the hall. "Please."

"So polite, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says over his shoulder, grinning so hard he feels like his face might break. "I've got such a polite—" He cuts himself off, quickly, biting his lip hard.

"Boyfriend," Lan Zhan says, steering him into the bathroom. "You do." He presses Wei Ying up against the wall, holding him there with his hips as he reaches over to flip the water on.

"Boyfriend," Wei Ying echoes. It comes out tight, because all of the air is caught up in his chest and he can't breathe quite right. "Such a polite boyfriend." Boyfriend. This morning they'd been one thing, and now they're something else entirely. His head is spinning and his heart is beating a little unevenly. It's fine, though, it is, because Lan Zhan is kissing him, hard, holding him close for a long, long moment, before he tugs him into the shower.

"KIss me some more," Wei Ying demands, under the steamy spray.

And Lan Zhan—because he really is such a polite boyfriend (!)—does.

Wei Ying has a hickey.

He actually has several, but the other ones are in places where no one's going to see them. He thinks that he possibly should have known that Lan Zhan was a biter. That Lan Zhan would be someone who would want to mark him up in the best possible way.

"I should have known," he says, tilting his head to gaze at his neck in the mirror. "And yet." He presses his fingers against the spot and that's a mistake—he gets a rush of heat through him, thinking about the press of Lan Zhan's mouth right there, sucking hard and leaving this dark bruise there, right in the shape of his mouth.

He's going to see his sister and the baby today. He's extremely excited to see them—Jin Ling gets bigger every time he sees him, and he's getting to a really funny age, where he's paying more attention to what's going on around him, and is endlessly curious, and also incredibly cranky a lot of the time, but in a really great way, where he looks at the grown-ups around him all like can you believe this bullshit? at anything that bothers him.

Wei Ying really loves that kid.

But the point is, Jin Ling is also super grabby and while Wei Ying thinks he could maybe wrap a scarf around his neck and call it fashion, that's not going to hold up around Jin Ling's flailing hands of curiosity.

Still, he makes the effort. It's a chilly fall day out, which is helpful, and he shrugs into his denim jacket and wraps a scarf around his neck. It's a lightly patterned dark blue one and it's not until he's adjusting it in the mirror that he realizes that it's Lan Zhan's. He pauses, looking at his reflection, his hands caught up in the scarf. He doesn't even remember when he'd borrowed it from Lan Zhan—it's not the same one from last night. He's had this one for ages. Lan Zhan's never asked for it back and Wei Ying likes wearing it and—

He wonders how long he's been stealing Lan Zhan's stuff, just to have a piece of him around.

He shakes his head at himself in the mirror, and arranges the scarf a little bit more, then heads out.

"A-Ying!" Yanli greets him warmly, a sweet smile on her face and a cranky baby in her arms. He kisses her soundly on the cheek and scoops Jin Ling out of her arms.

"My favorite sister," he says, "and my favorite nephew. What did I do to deserve all this?"

Jin Ling rears back in his arms so he can stare at him dubiously.

Wei Ying stares right back at him. "He really looks like Jiang Cheng when he does that," he says. "Do you think they've been talking about me?"

Yanli laughs—he loves her laugh, he loves making her laugh—and pats his shoulder. "He looks at everyone like that," she says. "He's going through a suspicious phase."

"Jiang Cheng's still going through that," Wei Ying points out.

In his arms, Jin Ling gives a long, mournful sigh and stuffs his fist into his mouth. Wei Ying laughs—this kid has so much personality. "Come on," he says, leaning in to press a kiss against Jin Ling's chubby cheek. "You know I'm your favorite uncle."

"No favorites here," Yanli says with a sweet smile. "He loves you both. Want me to take him?"

"No way." Wei Ying smooches Jin Ling again—the kid doesn't seem to enjoy it, but he doesn't seem to mind it, either, and the sweet, soft baby smell and the unbelievably squishiness of his cheek is so, so good. "He's my best and most perfect nephew."

"Well, how about you and your best, most perfect nephew come sit down? I'll bring us tea. Make yourself comfortable." Yanli tugs him into the living room—she really does have a very nice place, managing to have overcome her husband's ludicrously ostentatious taste and decorated it in such a way that it feels deeply homey.

Wei Ying settles himself on the floor with Jin Ling in his lap and turns the kid around to look at him. Jin Ling gives a big sigh again, like he's doing Wei YIng a truly tremendous favor, and stares up at him for a moment, then babbles at him fiercely, like they're maybe having a fight.

Wei Ying nods seriously. "Oh man," he responds to Jin Ling, as Yanli comes in, "and then what? You've got to be kidding me. No way did he say that. No way, that's so rude."

Yanli laughs again, as she sets down the cups of tea. "He's so close to really talking, I swear."

"I believe it." Wei Ying gets caught for a moment on the delicate porcelain of the tea cups. They were Auntie Yu's and he's flung back, for a second, to all those years of excruciating post-dinner tea, all of them sipping out of those cups while Auntie Yu took the opportunity to lambaste Wei Ying about, oh, the myriad ways he'd disappointed her that day. Jiang Cheng got quite a bit of it, too, and it couldn't have been fun for Yanli, having to play peacekeeper—which never worked, that only worked if someone wanted to keep the peace, and Auntie Yu had never once been that person.

Jin Ling gives a discontented yowl and Wei Ying blinks, startled out of his dumb reverie, and manages a grin up at Yanli. "Thanks, jie," he says, but doesn't reach for the tea.

"Are you doing okay, Wei Ying?" Her tone is so gentle that Wei Ying's heart turns over in his chest.

"Me?" he says, offering his hand to Jin Ling, who promptly grabs onto his finger tightly, still scolding him in babytalk. "With my best nephew, and my best jiejie, right here? I'm perfect."

Jin Ling flails out his hand just then, grabbing onto Wei Ying's scarf and starting to very intently try to stuff it into his mouth.

"Hey, hey," Wei Ying says, "listen, kid, that's sort of attached to me, ow, ow." He's trying to tug it out of Jin Ling's mouth, but Jin Ling has a tight hold on it, dragging Wei Ying's head down as he tangles his tiny fists in the fabric of the scarf.

"Stop choking your uncle," Yanli says, laughing as she gets down next to them on the floor and starts trying to help Wei Ying from being strangled to death on the floor. "Here, let me—"

They're both laughing too hard to be particularly effective at it, Yanli trying to unwrap the scarf from around his neck as Wei Ying tries to pry Jin Ling's stubborn fists away. Finally, the scarf comes loose and Jin Ling looks absolutely gleeful at having achieved his prize, stuffing as much of it into his mouth as he can. "He's teething," Yanli explains, holding out a bright orange plastic teething ring to Jin Ling, who immediately loses interest in the scarf and grabs it.

"Here," Yanli says, rescuing the scarf and handing it back to Wei Ying. "Sorry it's all wet now. He eats everything he can get his hands on."

"It's totally fine. Look how cute he is. That makes up for everything." He's gazing at Jin Ling, who is gnawing on the orange chew toy like he's being paid for it, his perfect, fat cheeks puffed out, his eyebrows drawn down like this is very serious business. "He's perfect," Wei Ying declares, looking up at Yanli.

Yanli is not looking at her perfect, teething child. She is, instead, looking at his neck where—right. Where that really alarmingly vivid hickey must now be on full display. He tries not to wince.

He has got to get Lan Zhan to stop marking up his neck where people can see it. He's got to. The problem is, it's an incredibly good spot for him and when Lan Zhan's mouth lands on it, Wei Ying loses all ability to make words anymore. It turns into a feedback loop, of Wei Ying moaning incoherently, and Lan Zhan apparently very much liking those moans, so he goes after that spot harder, and then—

Wei Ying really needs to stop thinking about this right now. "Uh," he says, starting to wrap the scarf around his neck again, and then making a face—it really is soaking wet in the spot where Jin Ling had managed to stuff it into his mouth.

"It's pretty warm in here," Yanli says, pushing herself easily to her feet. "Why don't you let it dry off a bit? Come with me, it's time for A-Ling to have a little snack."

Wei Ying sits at the table while Yanli bustles around. She's got some steamed and pureed veggies for Jin Ling and she hands off the bowl and spoon to Wei Ying. "Have at it," she says, settling down across from him and propping her chin on her hand.

"I'm ready for the challenge," Wei Ying declares, wielding the spoon at Jin Ling, who stares back at him. "Come on, hungry baby, let's do this thing."

Turns out getting food into a baby's mouth—even a hungry baby—is a bigger challenge than Wei Ying thought. Yanli is giggling over his shoulder as he tries to scrape up the veggie puree off of Jin Ling's cheeks, trying to get even some of it into his mouth, as Jin Ling grabs at the spoon. Fully half of the food gets into his meaty little fist and he stuffs that into his mouth, which— "Well, I guess that's one way of going about it," Wei Ying says.

"It's in his hair," Yanli says through her giggles.

"I'm very bad at this," Wei Ying informs his nephew solemnly.

Jin Ling hiccups at him and makes another grab for the spoon.

"So," Yanli says casually, as Wei Ying determinedly gets another spoonful of veggies and aims them at Jin Ling's mouth. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Wei Ying doesn't look away from where he's so close to getting the spoon in Jin Ling's mouth, but he feels the telling blush absolutely flood his cheeks. "Um," he says, hedging a little, and then, "Oh, score," as he manages to avoid Jin Ling's flailing hand and get the spoon and, like, seventy-five percent of the food into his mouth.

"I just wondered," Yanli says, sounding, again, very casual. Yanli doesn't do casual very well. "Oh, let him have it," she adds, as Jin Ling once again makes a play for the spoon. "I swear he absorbs more food through osmosis than he does by actually eating it."

Wei Ying relinquishes the spoon and Jin Ling babbles quietly as he bangs it on the tray in front of him. "I—" he says, and stops. "I mean, I'm not exactly—it's—" He can't do it. He can't lie to his jiejie. It gets caught in his chest and twists there, feeling so profoundly wrong. He puts his forehead down on the table. "Yes," he tells the wood under his face. "I—yeah, I am."

"That's a good thing, A-Ying," Yanli says gently. "Right?"

"Right." Wei Ying studies the grain of the wood under his eyes. "It is, it really is." He makes himself lift his head and look up at his sister. Yanli is studying him with eyes that are soft yet stern all at the same time. How does she do that? "That's a real good mom look," he says.

"Well," she responds. "I've been practising." She looks at the mark on his neck and he feels himself blush—again—and then she looks back up. "Tell me about them."

"Him," he says. Jie knows he's bi. She knew maybe even before he did, when he was a scrawny fourteen-year-old who really thought he wanted to be the guys he was obsessed with. It took him a while longer to realize he wanted to do the guys that he was obsessed with. "It's a him."

"Tell me about him," she says then, with no change in tone. Curious and loving and—again—stern, in a good way. Not giving him a choice, not letting him try to give her the runaround.

He stares at her, his mind whirling, trying to think about what he can tell her that will let him keep this secret, close to his heart, just for a little while longer. "It's Lan Zhan," he blurts. He can't help it. It bubbles up and over and when he says it, he feels like he can taste the words in his mouth, sweet and rich. "Jie, it's Lan Zhan."

"Oh," she breathes, her mouth turning up in that smile that he loves so, so much. He just adores her. Her tone isn't I knew it or you idiot or even, finally. She reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing it tight. "Tell me."

"I don't know!" He sounds a little wild even to his own ears, his voice too high-pitched. "It's really new. Like, just yesterday." Was it really? Was it only just yesterday that Lan Zhan had made out with him on the couch? And had taken him home after the bar and, Wei Ying is pretty sure, absolutely wrecked him for any other person ever in his life, because nothing that comes along will ever, ever compare with Lan Zhan? "I like him so much. I mean, I've always liked him," he says hurriedly, because he knows, now, a little, that what's been going on between him and Lan Zhan has maybe, sort of, been a crush, and that everyone probably knew that except for him. "I always have," he repeats. "But this is—it's different, jie. It's different from that. It's—" He stops and stares at her helplessly, unable to find the words.

She squeezes his hand. "That's so good. I'm so happy for you."

He knows he has a stupid smile on his face. He can't control it, not when he's thinking about Lan Zhan. "Thanks, jie." He swallows. "Can you—can you please not tell Jiang Cheng about this? Not yet? I just need—this is so new, and it's just me and Lan Zhan right now, no one else knows—well, now you do, and I guess the kid here, but he'll keep the secret for me, won't you?"

Jin Ling looks up from where he's been banging the spoon on the tray. He has pureed vegetables in his hair, and smeared across one chubby cheek. He makes sustained eye contact with Wei Ying, then holds the spoon out over the edge of the tray and lets it fall to the floor.

Both Yanli and Wei Ying crack up and Jin Ling casts a look between the two of them before he breaks into a tentative grin himself.

"It was a good joke, Ling-ling," Yanli tells him solemnly, reaching out with a damp cloth and wiping the food off of his hair and face. "Here," she says, taking a swipe at his hands, as well, catching hold of them deftly even as he tries to flail them out of the way. "Go to your uncle." She unclips him from the high chair and tugs him out, plopping him into Wei Ying's lap.

Wei Ying expects another bout of suspicious baby but Jin Ling is apparently tired from his pureed vegetable exertions and he settles back against Wei Ying with a big sigh, facing his mom and watching her every move as she wipes down his tray before settling back down at the table. Wei Ying has one arm wrapped around Jin Ling's waist, holding him close, and he leans in to press his face against his head, breathing in that good baby smell.

"Oh, no," he hears Yanli breathe. "Too cute."

He looks over at her and she's aiming her phone at him, snapping a photo. "Send that to me," he demands. "Me and my favorite nephew."

"Your only nephew," she points out.

"Doesn't matter," he says firmly. "Best nephew. Right?" he asks Jin Ling.

Jin Ling tilts his head back, gazing up at Wei Ying with the full force of his baby stare. He's blinking sleepily, now, but his focus is on Wei Ying. Wei Ying is pretty sure he can feel his heart literally melting.

"Oh, no," he hears Yanli whisper again.

They move to the couch after Yanli makes them tea, and Jin Ling falls asleep on Wei Ying's chest, and it's so painfully cute that Wei Ying thinks his heart will never recover from it. His phone buzzes when Yanli sends him the pictures she'd taken in the kitchen and he maneuvers it out of his pocket carefully, so as to not disturb Jin Ling. "Oh, no," he breathes as he looks at them.

"Right?" Yanli says as she sips her tea, holding the cup up to her mouth with both hands, her eyes crinkled as she smiles at him.

He nods, kissing the top of Jin Ling's head, Jin Ling breathing damply against his chest. He quickly sends the two pictures to Lan Zhan, then snaps a selfie of Jin Ling zonked out against him, Wei Ying himself leaning back against the couch with what can only be called an extremely goofy smile on his face. He just loves this kid so much.

He sends that one to Lan Zhan, too.

"I won't tell Jiang Cheng," Yanli says, drawing her legs up under her on the couch. "But you can, you know. When you're ready."

Wei Ying presses his face to the top of Jin Ling's head. "I know," he says. "I will. Just—not yet. He's so—he'll be so—" He doesn't know. It's fine—he knows Jiang Cheng, he loves Jiang Cheng, he's dealt with all of Jiang Cheng's bluster and eye-rolling before, and he knows that, behind it all, Jiang Cheng just wants him to be happy. He looks up at Yanli, who is sipping her tea and has that overly-peaceful expression on her face, where it really means that she's troubled. There is the tiniest of wrinkles between her eyebrows—that's always the big clue. "I just want to keep this for myself. Just for a little while."

He means it. Yes, he wants to avoid being dragged by both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang for falling head over fucking heels for Lan Zhan, but he also wants to hold this close, keep it tucked into his heart. Just for now. He feels like he's constantly in this state of heart-thumping, breath-stealing, over-the-top rush of happiness, where all he has to do is think of Lan Zhan and he feels like he's glowing from the inside out.

Yanli nods slowly. "I'm glad you told me," she says.

"Me too," Wei Ying says, his lips moving against the soft hair on Jin Ling's head. "And I'm going to tell Jiang Cheng, I am, just—"

"Not yet," she finishes for him, taking another sip of her tea. "It's okay, A-Ying. I know you will. I can see how happy Lan Zhan makes you."

"He does," Wei Ying says. There it goes again: that glow rising up in his chest, like if he lets it, it will spill out everywhere. "I like him so much, jie."

"I do too," she says. "If he makes you look like this, all—" She waves one hand at him. "Giddy and silly, then I definitely think he's good for you. I liked him already," she points out. "But I like him even more now."

He feels, for a moment, like, he might actually cry, hearing that. Obviously jie has known Lan Zhan for years. Everyone in his life has known Lan Zhan for years. Lan Zhan has been part of his life for all this time and how the fuck did it take him this long to get here? But even that gets subsumed in another overwhelming rush of happiness, like it doesn't matter that it took so long, all that matters is that he has it now.

And that he gets to go see Lan Zhan later tonight.

"Here," Yanli says, shifting forward, "want me to take him? He's out so hard, I can scoop him up and put him down in the other room to sleep."

"Noooo." Wei Ying says it softly, wrapping his arms around Jin Ling against his chest and holding him close. "Please, jie, let me hold him for just a little while longer. He's so comfortable. Look at him."

They both gaze for a moment at Jin Ling, who is indeed out, his weight solid and limp against Wei Ying, his rosebud mouth open as he sleeps, his eyelids nearly translucent, cheeks round and perfect.

"Okay," Yanli says, settling back, a helpless smile on her face.

They both sit quietly, watching Jin Ling breathe, for a long time.

It's not until Wei Ying is walking back to the train, his arms feeling weirdly empty after having reluctantly surrendered Jin Ling back to Yanli—Yanli had been right, he hadn't woken up during the hand-off, just sighed sleepily as he re-settled himself against Yanli's shoulder, his chubby cheek pressed against her—that he gets to look at his phone.

Lan Zhan. I like these very much. And then, a few moments later, You look happy. And then, Are you coming over after your visit? I would enjoy that a great deal.

Wei Ying grins at his phone, so distracted that he nearly walks into a street post. He scrolls back up to the pictures he'd sent, looking at Jin Ling resting sleepily against him, his fist wrapped around Wei Ying's thumb, looking boneless and content. He looks at himself in the pictures and—Lan Zhan's right. He does look happy. He is, actually, nearly glowing with it.

He scrolls back down and types I just left jie's! He adds a picture of the selfie he took before Yanli had scooped up Jin Ling, just an off-center shot of Wei YIng pressing his lips against Jin Ling's head.

Lan Zhan texts back immediately. Please come over.

He doesn't add any of his usual polite phrases, of if you're not too tired or if you would like. It feels almost like a demand, despite the please. Wei Ying feels heat unfurling in his stomach. On my way! he texts back.

It's Sunday, late afternoon, and Lan Zhan is usually doing his weekend prep for the week: laundry and meal-planning and getting lunch made for the next couple of days and all those things that always sound like a good idea in theory, that Wei Ying can never actually manage to put into action for himself.

But when he gets to Lan Zhan's place and Lan Zhan buzzes him up, Lan Zhan's waiting at the door when Wei Ying gets there. He's leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, as Wei Ying makes his way down the hall. Wei Ying pauses a ways away, so he can take a good, long look at him. It feels like ages since he'd seen him, though it was only this morning—how could it possibly have just been this morning? He feels hungry for him, starved, like it's been days, weeks since he's laid eyes on him.

Lan Zhan's in grey yoga pants, loose at the ankles, and a t-shirt that fits him...really well. His hair is up in a high, soft bun, his face lost in thought, and Wei Ying feels his breath get caught in his chest, an actual small, wrenching moment where he's forgotten how to breathe, because of how beautiful Lan Zhan is.

Lan Zhan looks up, his gaze going directly to Wei Ying, standing poised down the hall. Wei Ying feels himself blush all over and he can't stop the grin that spreads across his face as his feet hurry towards Lan Zhan with no input from Wei Ying whatsoever. "Hey," he says, feeling breathless, light-headed, like his feet are hardly touching the floor. "Hey, Lan Zhan, I—"

Lan Zhan pushes himself off of the door jamb and takes two steps forward, meeting Wei Ying in the hallway and pulling him into a kiss. It's not an oh hi kiss or even a oh, we get to do this now, so might as well kiss. It's hot and deep right out of the gate, Lan Zhan bending him back just a little as he kisses him, like Wei Ying is a girl in some old-timey movie. Wei Ying's arms are caught around Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan's tongue is in his mouth and they are right in the middle of the hallway of Lan Zhan's apartment building, where anyone could see them, anyone at all.

He whimpers, a little, against Lan Zhan's lips, and that seems to jolt Lan Zhan out of it, just for a moment. "Wei Ying," he says, letting him stand up straight again but still holding him so, so close.

"That's me," Wei Ying says, trying to grin, but failing, because the heat in Lan Zhan's gaze is, quite frankly, overwhelming, and he is only one man. "Want to take me inside?"

"Yes." Lan Zhan's eyes flash and he has Wei Ying through the door in the next moment. He presses Wei Ying up against the wall next to it, even as he's reaching to close it securely, turning the deadlock while he kisses Wei Ying.

Wei Ying has one leg wrapped around Lan Zhan without meaning to have done it, slumping back against the wall, ready to go at it, so ready.

Lan Zhan pulls away though, a determined look on his face, ignoring Wei Ying's sound of protest as he pulls him away from the wall.

"Let's just do it right here," Wei Ying says breathlessly, but Lan Zhan is hauling him down the hall.

"No," he says, sounding determined. "I want you in a bed."

Wei Ying feels that down to his very toes.

Lan Zhan's room is neat as it always is, and smells good, like sandalwood and sage, and he has a whole lighting scheme going on, with the low light of the bedside lamp making the room look golden.

He strips Wei Ying out of his clothes efficiently, somehow managing to drop kisses against each exposed piece of skin as he does so. Wei Ying is trembling when he's done, and like he can still feel each spot where Lan Zhan had pressed his mouth against: the curve of his shoulder, the inside of his elbow, this spot high on his rib cage which should have been ticklish but was, instead, a spot that sent a rush of heat through his entire body when Lan Zhan had pressed a soft kiss against it.

"Now you," Wei Ying says when he's stripped bare, but Lan Zhan is ten steps ahead of him, pulling his t-shirt off one-handed and pushing down the yoga pants and, oh, he has nothing on underneath. Wei Ying's knees go sort of weak at the sight of Lan Zhan's dick, hard and flushed. "Fuck," Wei Ying says, collapsing shakily back onto the bed, "how long have you been hard for me?"

His mouth runs away with him when he's this level of horny, but Lan Zhan doesn't laugh or tease, he just kicks the rest of the way out of the yoga pants and crawls on top of him. "A long time," he says, in this grave tone, and Wei Ying feels like he might mean years, like he's been getting hard for Wei Ying forever and Wei Ying only needed to notice it.

Wei Ying scoots back on the bed as Lan Zhan bears him down. "Kiss me," he says, moments before Lan Zhan does, crushing their mouths together. "Fuck, kiss me," he says again, even though they're already doing it, in the middle of it, both of them going at it like it's been forever since they've done this, like Wei Ying doesn't still have marks on him from last night, thrumming as his blood gets hotter still.

Lan Zhan kisses like he's hungry, kisses like he's been kept on a leash for far too long and now that he's off of it, there is no stopping him. "Wei Ying," he says against Wei Ying's mouth and it's just his name, but it's his name on Lan Zhan's lips, his name sliding off of Lan Zhan's tongue into his mouth. It's the way Lan Zhan says his name, like it's something important, and Wei Ying realizes, here, spread out beneath Lan Zhan on Lan Zhan's bed, that Lan Zhan has been saying his name like that for years, been saying his name like that forever.

"I didn't know," he gasps, as Lan Zhan moves his mouth down Wei Ying's jawline, pressing kisses all the way down to his collarbone. "I didn't know, I didn't know." He cries out as Lan Zhan digs his teeth in just a little. There's a rumble in Lan Zhan's body, nearly a growl—he likes that, likes Wei Ying's noises, Wei Ying realizes. He can make as much noise as he wants and Lan Zhan likes it, Lan Zhan is into it.

"I want," Wei Ying pants out, and he was going to finish the sentence, he really was, but Lan Zhan is flipping him over on the bed and his brain shorts out. "Fuck," he says again, his voice coming out high and helpless. "Oh, fuck."

Lan Zhan is licking down his back, not soft little kitten licks, but big strokes of his tongue, like he's tasting him. He makes his way down his back swiftly, with a marked determination.

Wei Ying is shuddering, his hands clenching against the sheets, his face pressed against Lan Zhan's pillow where it smells the most like him. Lan Zhan's teeth dig into the meat of his ass and he cries out again, his hips jerking like they're not sure if they want to move into the bite.

"You," Wei Ying pants, clutching harder at the sheets, like he's going to float away if he doesn't hang on. "Lan Zhan, you—"

Lan Zhan pauses for a moment, his breath coming hot against Wei YIng's ass and then, as Wei Ying cranes his neck to look over his shoulder, moves to meditatively bite his other ass cheek.

"Fuck me," Wei Ying whimpers, and Lan Zhan looks up at him. He looks—absolutely wild, his eyes dark and his hair falling out in wisps around his face, flushed and a little sweaty. Wei Ying realizes that he means it. He wants it. He wants Lan Zhan inside of him.

"Wei Ying," he says, his voice rough. "Can I?"

Wei Ying realizes he's just staring at Lan Zhan, who is apparently waiting for an answer, because it's not until Wei Ying nods shakily that Lan Zhan moves. He's incredibly efficient, again, and he's got lube and condoms from the bedside table in moments, tossing them onto the bed.

Wei Ying loses all track of time as Lan Zhan fingers him open. He hasn't done this in a while and even if he had, he thinks that the fact that it's Lan Zhan pressing his fingers inside, steady, his breath coming hot against Wei Ying's shoulder as he does it, would send him to pieces regardless.

He's sweating, and shaking a little, by the time Lan Zhan has three fingers inside of him. He's up on his knees somehow, and doesn't remember doing that. He only remembers that moment of it going from feeling like an intrusion to feeling like he needed more. He's pressing back against Lan Zhan, where Lan Zhan is fucking him with his fingers, his breath coming hard and fast. He thinks he's muttering under his breath, can't hear himself over the rush of his blood pounding in his ears, but Lan Zhan must hear it, the desperate sound of him saying, "Please, please, please."

Lan Zhan pulls his fingers out slowly and Wei YIng makes a frantic sound, his hands scrabbling against the sheets. He's aching for Lan Zhan to come back, he needs it. But he should have trusted in Lan Zhan, because he's back in moments, pressing his cock against Wei Ying.

Wei Ying's breath leaves him in a rush. Lan Zhan's cock is big but he can take it, he wants it, and his body seems to know that, opening up to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan makes a rough noise as he pushes in, his hands clutching at Wei Ying's hips. "Fuck." Wei Ying feels that word more than he hears it, the way Lan Zhan presses it against his shoulder as he slides home.

They stay there like that for a heartbeat, Lan Zhan all the way inside Wei Ying, pressed up against him, both of them panting. Wei Ying thinks he's going to remember this moment forever, is going to flash back to the feeling of it for the rest of his life, Lan Zhan inside him and holding him, both desperate and weirdly gentle, like Wei Ying's something that could break.

Then Lan Zhan moves, and that's it, fuck, that's it, the moment breaks but it's exponentially better, Lan Zhan fucking him, steady and perfect and so, so right.

"We should have been doing this," Wei Ying mumbles, turning his head to press against his own arm as Lan Zhan thrusts into him. "We should have been doing this all along, you could have been fucking me forever." He gasps, as Lan Zhan grinds against him for a moment. "You should be fucking me forever."

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, shoving forward into him again. "Yes, I—" He groans, then, as Wei Ying pushes back against him. He wants more, he wants more, he wants everything Lan Zhan can give him.

They're lost to it then, Wei Ying underneath Lan Zhan, clutching at the covers and moaning Lan Zhan's name over and over again. He doesn't know how long it is until the rhythm goes unsteady, but that's okay, that's fine, Wei Ying can barely hold on, can only take it as Lan Zhan thrusts inside him one more time and stays there, crying out as he trembles behind him and comes deep inside him.

"Fuck," Wei Ying pants. "Oh, fuck, I—" He should shut his mouth, he's too fucking hard to make any sense, he's been hard forever, he needs to come so bad. "I want to feel that," he gasps out, even as Lan Zhan eases him down to the bed. "I want to—" He groans as Lan Zhan pulls out, then turns him over. "Oh fuck, yes, please, I—" Lan Zhan is fisting his cock, stroking him off. "I want to feel that, want to feel you come in me, fuck, let's do that, raw, want to feel you dripping down my thighs, I want—"

Lan Zhan makes a broken noise, and his eyes are very, very intent on Wei Ying in the moment before everything gathers inside Wei Ying and he cries out and comes, spilling over Lan Zhan's fist and making a mess of his stomach and chest and possibly the sheets, he's coming so, so hard.

He collapses back, his body thrumming. He lets himself get lost in it, feels like he's almost dreaming as he catches his breath, tangled in the mess they've made of Lan Zhan's sheets. When he manages to blink his eyes open, Lan Zhan is curled up beside him, running his fingers through the come on his stomach.

"Gross," Wei Ying breathes, grinning over at him.

Lan Zhan glances up at him and shrugs, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking the come off of his fingers.

Fuck, Wei Ying likes him.

"So," Wei Ying says at the same time as Lan Zhan says, "Those pictures."

Wei Ying looks at him. Lan Zhan's cheeks are flushed pink as he looks at him. "You liked them?"

Lan Zhan nods. "I did."

"He's a cute kid, huh?" Wei Ying says, biting his lip a little.

"You," Lan Zhan says, "holding him. It was." He stops. "It made me." He stops again.

Wei Ying shifts closer, curls up onto his side and lets his knees press against Lan Zhan. "It made you what?" His heart is beating faster and he's watching Lan Zhan's face, how his eyes are dark as he looks at Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan shakes his head, but he's moving closer to Wei Ying as well, curling around him, his hand moving to wrap around his waist, tug him up against him. "It made me want..." He trails off. His lips are very red—they get that way, from kissing. That's something Wei Ying knows now, something he gets to know: that Lan Zhan's lips get dark and almost bruised after kissing so hard, as though he's delicate, like a peach. "You look very good with a baby in your arms," he finishes finally.

"Yeah?" Wei Ying wants to curl closer, even though they're so close, he can feel the rise and fall of Lan Zhan's chest as he breathes. "You like that look?"

"I like that look," Lan Zhan says. He's still got a blush on his face, high on his cheeks. "It made me want—that is, it made me wish that we could—"

He stops again, but Wei Ying gets it, even before Lan Zhan's hand moves slowly from his side to his stomach, resting there against him, hot, so hot it's almost like a hot-water bottle against his skin, warming him up.

"Yeah," Wei Ying says, it coming out hushed and far too honest, far too revealing. "I wish—I mean, with you, I know, it's nuts, but I wish we could—not now, or anything, obviously, it's been like two days, but—"

Something complicated moves across Lan Zhan's face. For all that Wei Ying has chalked up Lan Zhan as having a very good poker face, skilled at hiding his true feelings, he is, in fact, a very easy read at times. Or maybe just a very easy read for Wei Ying. He feels hot all over, realizing that they've been dating for two days and Lan Zhan is thinking about fucking a baby into him. Thinking about it, and wishing for it. God. God.

He presses his hot face against Lan Zhan's chest. It's too much. All of this is too much, and that's...just right for Wei Ying. He wants, and he wants, and he wants, and he's the one who's always too much, he's the one one who's always let down easy, when he pushes too far, too fast, asks for too much, too soon.

"Yeah," he says again, muffled against Lan Zhan's skin, smelling the warm, musky scent of him so close, sandalwood, and sex. He wants to breathe it in, wants more, wants to press his face into Lan Zhan's armpit, inhale his scent like an absolute crazy person.

He thinks Lan Zhan wouldn't mind.

"Anyway," Lan Zhan says finally, his fingers tracing a complicated pattern against Wei Ying's shoulder, "I liked those pictures. Yes."

Wei Ying presses his smile against Lan Zhan's chest. "Well," he manages, and he has to swallow so his voice doesn't come out tremulous, feeling hot behind his eyes like he wants to cry, in some crazy, good way. "I'm glad."

Lan Zhan holds him even closer and keeps him there for a long, long time.

"Starving," Wei Ying chants. "Starving, I am so starving, I am dying from hunger and it's your fault, Lan Zhan. I hope you plan to take responsibility when I waste away right here in this fancy lobby because you are cruel enough to make me wait for dinner."

"It will only be a moment," Lan Zhan says peaceably, unfazed by Wei Ying's imminent demise.

They're waiting for Lan Zhan's brother, who's meeting them to hand over some paperwork to Lan Zhan, something to do with...a family trust? Wei Ying thinks? He should have been listening more closely, and he had been, only he'd forgotten to eat lunch today, caught up in work, and then it was four and he'd been going to grab something from the vending machine, but he'd blinked and it was five and Lan Zhan was waiting for him and he'd raced out to meet him and now he's dying and he's very sad about it.

"It's a shame," he says, wrapping his arms around his—very empty—stomach and slumping against Lan Zhan. "I wish I wasn't dying. I'm having such a nice life right now."

Lan Zhan looks down at him. He has that expression that is often on his face nowadays, a sort of fond, horny look that sends tingles down Wei Ying's spine every time he's faced with it—which is a lot. It's only been a week since they've started doing this thing—this thing where they are dating, really and truly dating, calling each other boyfriend in the soft quiet of Lan Zhan's bedroom. It makes Wei Ying feel crazily giddy every time Lan Zhan says it.

"Fuck, I want to blow you," he says softly, because he's pretty much stopped trying to curb the thoughts that want to tumble out of his mouth. Lan Zhan likes it when he talks like this. Lan Zhan seems to like everything he has to say. It's mind-blowing. "I really want to just—"

"A-Zhan."

Wei Ying straightens up so fast he almost falls over. It's Lan Zhan's brother, striding across the lobby of his work building towards them. He's got a genial smile on his face, and does a pretty damn good job of pretending not to notice Wei Ying tripping over his own feet as he gets his balance.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," Lan Huan says. "I hope it wasn't too much of a bother."

"Not at all," Wei Ying says cheerfully. "We pretty much just got here. It's a nice place. Look at that fancy chandelier." Lan Huan's place of business is really opulent, and Wei Ying wonders, as he has before, why these office buildings feel like they have to have this level of finery just for people to walk through to get to their dull offices. It feels like a waste.

"I hope all is well?" Lan Huan asks, resting one hand on Lan Zhan's shoulder for a moment.

Lan Zhan inclines his head. "It is," he says. He's got that same staid, steady look that he always has around family. Wei Ying can't help but study the two of them standing there together, looking so much alike, but deeply different in a way Wei Ying's been thinking about a lot. It's something about how Lan Zhan is very still-waters-run-deep—you can tell just by looking at him, if you know him well enough. Surface-level severe, but underneath that is this deep heat that will rise to the surface in a truly explosive way. There's just so much there, and Wei Ying loves every part of it.

And with Lan Huan—sometimes, when Wei Ying looks at him, all he can think is what you see is what you get. He likes Lan Huan, he does, but he doesn't seem to have a whole lot of depth to him.

It's odd, to think about how two brothers can turn out so different.

"Well," Lan Huan says after a pause. "That's good. I am glad to hear it." He seems to be studying Lan Zhan for a moment, like he's picking up on something, and Wei Ying feels a moment of weird panic—he's not ready yet, not even close, he needs to keep this between just him and Lan Zhan for a while longer, it feels important, like it's something that might crumble if it gets looked at too closely.

"Here," is all that Lan Huan says, though, holding out an envelope to Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying wants to blow his breath out in relief, but manages to tamp it down.

"Everything is there," Lan Huan says. "Please let me know if you have questions about it."

"Thank you, ge," Lan Zhan says, tucking the envelope inside his coat pocket.

"I wanted to ask," Lan Huan starts to say, his tone thoughtful, when a hand lands on his shoulder. His face turns soft and he doesn't seem startled as he turns to smile up at Nie Mingjue, close behind him.

"Hi, babe," Nie Mingjue says. "Your baby brother and his buddy joining us for dinner?"

Wei Ying will never get over the fact that Lan Zhan's sedate older brother is in a serious committed relationship with Nie Huaisang's hot older brother. They've been together for years, and Nie Huaisang just shakes his head hurriedly whenever the question comes up as to what they possibly have in common, saying, "I don't know, please stop asking me, I have no knowledge of this and would very much like to not linger on it."

Nie Mingjue drops an easy kiss onto Lan Huan's cheek and Wei Ying can't stop staring in avid fascination. Is the mustache rough against Lan Huan's skin? Does Lan Huan like the proprietary way Nie Mingjue's hand wraps around his hip? Nie Mingjue's hand looks huge against Lan Huan's slim hip. He's a pretty built guy; he could probably toss Lan Huan around a whole lot if he wanted.

He comes back to himself at the feeling of Lan Zhan's eyes on him, his expression stern, like he knows exactly what Wei Ying is thinking about. Wei Ying shoots him an unrepentant grin.

"Join us," Lan Huan says. His lips are curved into a knowing smile as he brings his gaze to Wei Ying, like he too knows what Wei Ying was thinking about. "There's a place just a few blocks away that we both enjoy very much."

"We would not want to impose," Lan Zhan says, and he's absolutely going for a polite refusal, but Nie Mingjue is already moving forward, slinging the arm that's not wrapped around Lan Huan around Lan Zhan's neck as he walks them out of the lobby.

"Let's go," he says. "You guys hungry?"

Wei Ying looks at Lan Zhan's slightly pained expression, grinning. "Staving," he says.

"That's good." Nie Mingjue flashes him a smile. "You'll like this place. Good beer."

Dinner is, in fact, good—less awkward than Wei Ying had anticipated, but Wei Ying can talk the ear off anybody, so he and Nie Mingjue take the conversational load, while Lan Zhan and his brother are relatively quiet over dinner, per usual.

"They don't talk when they eat," Nie Mingjue offers up over the table. The beers at this place come in mugs with big handles, and Nie Mingjue and Wei Ying are enjoying theirs. Nie Mingjue has somehow charmed the bartender into scrounging up some tea for Lan Huan and Lan Zhan—a bizarre thing to watch, as charming is not the first thing that comes to mind when you look at Nie Mingjue. Scary is more accurate. Or, okay, to be perfectly honest, mustache.

Wei Ying nods. "It gives me the chance to regale him with my every thought and feeling."

Nie Mingjue takes another bite of his food. "He try to get you to be quiet along with him?" he asks.

Lan Huan shoots him an exasperated, fond smile.

Wei Ying nods, busily shoving his own burger into his mouth. "He tried," he says cheerfully. "But there's no stopping me. Everyone knows that." He glances over at Lan Zhan, sitting beside him, taking neat bites of his noodle dish. Lan Zhan's mouth does this little thing where it's like he wants to give Wei Ying the same sort of smile Lan Huan just gave Nie Mingjue.

Wei Ying wants to lean his shoulder up against Lan Zhan. He wants to tilt his head and smile up at him and say, "You like me and my big mouth." He wants to make Lan Zhan smile down at him, still silent, but fond, like he can't help it. He wants so much.

He makes himself look away, taking a breath and reaching for his beer. "IPAs all the way for you, huh?" he asks Nie Mingjue. "Bet no one ever tries to steal your beers at a party."

Nie Mingjue just takes a pointed sip of his own beer, then wipes off his mustache with the back of his hand. Lan Huan watches him, a soft smile on his face.

"Me, I like sweet things," Wei Ying continues. The place Nie Mingjue had led them to has an excellent selection of weird beers on tap. Wei Ying himself is drinking a sour mango ale and reveling in it. "This is just the right side of painful to drink. My tongue is tingling."

When he glances over at Lan Zhan, he is studying his meal like it holds the secrets to the universe. He has his hair up in a neat high ponytail today, which does nothing to hide the fact that the tips of his ears are very, very pink.

Wei Ying takes another swallow of beer, to stop himself from dropping his hand to Lan Zhan's thigh. To stop himself from leaning in close and asking, "Want a taste, Lan Zhan?" He's thinking about sliding his tingly tongue into Lan Zhan's mouth and he knows he should stop, he has to stop, but it's a compelling thought.

Lan Huan clears his throat, setting down his fork. "I, myself, prefer a glass of wine at the end of the day."

"You want me to get you a drink, babe?" Nie Mingjue asks, patting Lan Huan's thigh with one huge hand.

Lan Huan shakes his head with a smile. "I'll be asleep before we get home if I have a drink now."

"You drink, Lan Huan?" Wei Ying says, trying very hard to focus on anything except Lan Zhan beside him. It feels like there's this wall of heat coming from him, like however calm and quiet Lan Zhan's face is as he gazes down at the table, it's costing him to keep it all tamped down. "I thought you were like your brother—a teetotaler."

Lan Zhan looks up then, meeting his brother's eyes across the table. "Lan Huan has a somewhat better tolerance than I do," he says.

"Almost anyone would," Wei Ying teases. Again, he desperately wants to lean up against him. If this was before they were dating, he probably would have.

"Not that much better," Nie Mingjue says. "You give him any more than a glass, and you'd better brace yourself for a deep dive into foreign imperialism in China. It's pretty cute. He gets all heated up."

Lan Huan smiles at Nie Mingjue, shaking his head. Wei Ying notices Nie Mingjue's hand is still resting on Lan Huan's thigh. "It's a topic that's important to me," he says, but his tone is light, and the look he's giving Nie Mingjue is, well. Wei Ying feels like he shouldn't be privy to such looks. That's a private look. A bedroom look.

Wei Ying's own ears are getting hot now.

"Lan Zhan just passes out." He's not telling tales—everyone knows that about Lan Zhan. "And wakes up a little while later and then there's no stopping him."

"His stubborn streak," Lan Huan says, nodding.

"Right!" Wei Ying grins at Lan Zhan and then—fuck it—does drape himself against him, pressing against his shoulder. "Last time he had a drink—and it was this little baby drink, like, a half a glass—he made me come to the corner store with him so he could reorganize the chip display."

Lan Zhan frowns slightly, but he's not making any move to nudge Wei Ying off of him. "It was badly arranged," he says. "They didn't even keep the same brands together."

"I know," Wei Ying says comfortingly. "You fixed it."

Lan Zhan tilts his head, looking down at Wei Ying with one eyebrow arched. "I did."

Wei Ying giggles, pressing his face against Lan Zhan's shoulder. He just likes him. He likes him so much.

When he glances across the table, both Lan Huan and Nie Mingjue are looking at them, with almost identical appraising expressions on their faces. Nie Mingjue takes a slow sip of beer, still studying the two of them.

"Anyway," Wei Ying says, clearing his throat and reluctantly straightening up, "I like this place. It's a cool bar."

Nie Mingjue just nods. He still looks thoughtful.

"The food was good," Lan Zhan says, folding his napkin neatly. "And it's not too loud."

"You two should come back here sometime." Lan Huan says it with the same amiable tone he says most things, but he's glancing back and forth between the two of them with an odd intensity.

Does he mean like on a date? He can't possibly know Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are dating. They've played it off; Wei Ying knows they have. "Oh, yeah, we have to. Your brother will love this place," he says to Nie Mingjue. "They have PBR on tap," he explains to Lan Huan. "He only drinks beer if it's PBR, and only then if it's on tap. He says it's a sign. He won't explain it any further."

"A man of discerning taste," Lan Huan says, nodding seriously even as the corners of his mouth quirk up a little.

"Precisely." Wei Ying is taking a sip of his drink as the server approaches, so the fight for the check is between Lan Zhan and Nie Mingjue, Nie Mingjue winning easily, half standing up to body-block Lan Zhan as he shoves his credit card at the server.

"Thank you very much for dinner," Lan Zhan says in his most aggrieved tone. "I wish you would have let me pay."

"Our treat," Nie Mingjue says, waving his hand at him and finishing his beer in one pleased sip. "Let us do something nice for you guys."

There's another hint of a tone there, Wei Ying thinks. Maybe a little probing, like he's looking for a clue from one of them that they're...something more than friends.

"Yeah, for real, thank you," Wei Ying says, finishing his own beer. "I've got to get home now, unfortunately. Busy day tomorrow."

Lan Zhan rises as well, pulling his coat on. "Thank you again," he says to both Lan Huan and Nie Mingjue.

"I'll give you a call later," Lan Huan says in what Wei Ying knows is an overly-casual tone.

Lan Zhan looks at him for just a beat too long, then nods.

Once they're outside—it's definitely gotten colder, the air has that biting feel to it that means they really, truly have started to change seasons and winter is pretty much here—Wei Ying looks at Lan Zhan. "That was nice," he offers.

Lan Zhan nods. "Your coat is too thin," he says, sounding nearly reproachful. "You're freezing."

"I'm fine," Wei Ying protests, shivering. "It wasn't this cold earlier."

"Mn." Lan Zhan glances back at the bar and then says, "Let's go." He starts walking swiftly towards the train station, waiting until they're about a block away before unbuttoning his coat and reaching out to wrap one arm around Wei Ying, tugging him securely close, enveloping him in his coat.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying protests, even as he burrows under Lan Zhan's arm. "Now you'll be cold, too."

"I run hot," Lan Zhan says.

There's no tone to it, no insinuation made clear, but Wei Ying gets a shiver down his spine anyway, and presses closer to Lan Zhan, inhaling the dizzying scent of him, and wanting more. "You do," he says, and he absolutely makes his tone insinuating. "You run really hot. I know this about you."

Lan Zhan's arm holds him close as they walk together, their strides perfectly matched, moving swiftly enough that they're not blocking the sidewalk traffic even as they stay tucked together.

"You know, we used to do this all the time," Wei Ying says as they're standing on the subway platform, waiting for the next train. "You'd scold me for not dressing warm enough and then you'd let me share your coat, and we weren't even together."

Lan Zhan's looking down the track, where there's the distant rumble of an approaching train. "I wanted to be," he says.

Wei Ying stops inhaling the scent of Lan Zhan's shirt—he uses this fancy fabric softener that smells like springtime—and looks up at him. "You did?" he says, his heart beating a little funny.

Lan Zhan nods, still not looking down at him. Wei Ying knows it's too loud in the station for him to actually hear Lan Zhan's heart beating, but he imagines he can. "I wanted you for—" He stops and shakes his head. "So long," he finishes, just as the train rumbles into the station.

"Oh." Wei Ying's legs feel shaky, Lan Zhan's solid arm around him the only thing holding him up. The train is making too much noise for them to hear each other, but Lan Zhan finally looks down at him. His expression is—Wei Ying can't handle it, he really can't. He's cut open, it's all out there, and his eyes are dark and his mouth is soft and he'd been wanting Wei Ying. He'd been wanting Wei Ying for, as he'd said, a long, long time. "Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, even though Lan Zhan can't hear him.

Lan Zhan's eyes go soft and he looks like he's about to lean down for a kiss, and Wei Ying is absolutely going to let him do it, right here on this subway platform in full view of God and the MTA. "Train's here," is all Lan Zhan says, though, as the doors ding and open. "Let's go home?"

"Yeah," Wei Ying says, gazing at him. "Let's do that."

"I think your brother might think we're dating," Wei Ying says later, after Lan Zhan has very thoroughly shown him just how much he'd been wanting him for so very long.

"Mn." Lan Zhan is tracing a soft pattern against Wei Ying's hip, the touch of his fingers proprietary in a way that Wei Ying is very, very into. "Perhaps. He's not the most observant, however."

Wei Ying grins. "About you, he is," he says. "Your brother notices stuff."

"Perhaps." Lan Zhan seems distracted from the conversation, leaning down to press his mouth thoughtfully against the curve of Wei Ying's shoulder, his tongue flickering over the spot in a way that doesn't quite tickle, but still makes Wei Ying give a quiet giggle as he does it.

"They probably talked about us after we left," Wei Ying continues. "Nie Mingjue doesn't miss a trick."

"Nie Mingjue," Lan Zhan says, "is extremely distracted by my brother. I strongly doubt he gives me very much thought at all." He shifts closer, his eyes studying Wei Ying's mouth with a single-minded intensity. He gives a thoughtful hum as he presses his lips to the spot just underneath it, on the side, where Wei Ying's small mole is.

Wei Ying gets a rush of warmth down his spine. "He cares about what your brother cares about," he manages, even though his breath is getting caught in his chest. "And Lan Huan cares a lot about you. Oh, fuck." Lan Zhan is letting his hand drift down over Wei Ying's hip, holding on firmly as he presses closer. He's getting hard again; Wei Ying can feel it against his thigh. "You just came. How are you getting this hard again already? That's—" He loses his breath as Lan Zhan nudges his way under Wei Ying's jaw, pressing his mouth against the soft skin there.

"It's you," Lan Zhan says quietly, his mouth moving against Wei Ying's skin. "You do this to me. You've always done this to me."

Wei Ying is going to die. He's going to die, with Lan Zhan's cock pressed up against his thigh. His heart is beating in his throat and his breath is coming so fast, he feels like he's hyperventilating. "You can't—Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he says, his voice coming out strangled. The idea of Lan Zhan wanting him, wanting him like this, for...so long, wanting and not getting to have it—it makes him want to fall to pieces. "You should have everything you want," he says. "You should always have everything you want."

Lan Zhan rolls on top of him, pressing him down against the mattress. He kisses him, so long and so soft that Wei Ying gets lost in the rhythm of Lan Zhan's mouth against his own.

"I do," Lan Zhan says against his lips.

Wei Ying, dizzy, doesn't know what he means for a moment.

"I have everything I want." Lan Zhan's pressing him down with his whole body, like he can't bear to not be touching every inch of Wei Ying. "Right here."

Wei Ying gives a strangled groan, burying his face against Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Me too," he says, the words muffled against Lan Zhan's skin. "Oh, me too."

The noise Lan Zhan makes is nothing short of satisfied. "Well," he says, his tone steady and serious. "There is one more thing."

Wei Ying pulls his head back to look at him, concerned, but Lan Zhan is moving, shifting down the bed, and he has Wei Ying's cock in his mouth in the next moment. Wei Ying's eyes roll back in his head as his cock gets fully hard inside the wet heat of Lan Zhan's mouth. "Fuck," he gasps, digging his heels against the bed. "Oh, fuck, yes, good, it's all yours. I'm all yours. I'm—" He bites his lip, hard, trying to hold it all in, trying not to ask for too much, to take too much, but—Lan Zhan wants him. He wants him; he wants this. "Everything," Wei Ying pants, as Lan Zhan takes him in deeper, his hands digging into Wei Ying's hips, keeping him exactly where Lan Zhan wants him. "You can have everything. I'm yours."

Lan Zhan makes a sound deep in his throat that reverberates through Wei Ying's whole body. All Wei Ying can do is push one hand into Lan Zhan's hair, not tugging, just holding on as Lan Zhan determinedly shows him, again, how much he's been wanting him.

"What if he says something to Nie Huaisang?" Wei Ying is curled up on the couch. "Your brother, I mean." He's wearing Lan Zhan's jogging pants, which are just long enough that they fall over his feet, warm and soft. Lan Zhan had given him one of his hoodies, as well, to zip up over himself. It almost made up for the fact that Lan Zhan had made him clean up before getting dressed, bustling him into the shower against Wei Ying's protests. He'd followed him in, at least, which made it more fun, and Wei Ying reluctantly admits that he feels better for being clean—a little hazy from the heat of the shower, as well as the insane amount of sex he and Lan Zhan had just had. He's a little shaky from it, feeling a bit like a newborn colt.

"I imagine," Lan Zhan says, emerging from the kitchen with two cups of steaming tea, "that the entire internet would then know in mere moments."

Wei Ying makes grabby hands at the tea and Lan Zhan hands him the cup, settling down beside him on the couch. He brings his own cup up to his face, inhaling the scent of it for a moment before taking a sip, the picture of unconcern.

He's unbearably cute when he does that.

"You think you're funny," Wei Ying says, poking at Lan Zhan's thigh with his toes until Lan Zhan lifts up a little, letting Wei Ying slide his cold feet underneath. They used to do this all the time, too, Wei Ying whining until Lan Zhan let him do it. Wei Ying feels this sort of wonder, tight inside of him, that he gets to have this, now, the whole thing. "You think you're funny," he says again, blinking at Lan Zhan over his cup of tea, feeling weirdly like he might cry, he's so happy. "But Nie Huaisang's social media presence is no joke. He'd be all over this. One hint from his big brother is all it would take."

Lan Zhan takes a sip of his tea, his eyes crinkling just a little over the cup as he studies Wei Ying. "I'll call Huan-ge," he says. "See if he did, in fact, glean anything. It's possible he did not."

Wei Ying wiggles his toes underneath Lan Zhan's thigh and takes a sip of his own tea. He's warmer now, and Lan Zhan's joggers and hoodie are extremely soft, and Lan Zhan's thigh is extremely warm. He's clean and he's happy and he has Lan Zhan right here, the living room bathed in the soft, golden glow of Lan Zhan's lighting scheme. "Okay," he says, resting his head against the back of the couch. "That's a good plan."

Lan Zhan picks up his phone agreeably. Wei Ying sips his tea and avidly listens to the half of the conversation he can hear. It feels good, like they're in this together, and this is allowed, this sort of intimate, homey, couple-y thing of getting to share in this conversation.

"It was," Lan Zhan's saying. "I'm glad to have been able to see you both." A beat while Lan Huan says something—Wei Ying can't hear the words, just the cadence of Lan Huan's pleasant tone—and Lan Zhan says, "He enjoyed it, as well."

Wei Ying presses his toes up against Lan Zhan's thigh. Lan Zhan tilts his head and looks at him, a small smile on his face, like he can't quite tamp it down.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, "he got home safely."

Wei Ying grins. It's not a lie: he did get home safely, just not to his home.

A longer pause this time. "He did?" Lan Zhan asks, his tone a little flat. "Well. Wei Ying and I have been friends for quite some time." Another pause and Wei Ying desperately wants to hear what Lan Huan is saying. He leans in closer. "Quite close friends," Lan Zhan says firmly. "Perhaps he picked up on that."

Oh, so Nie Mingjue definitely picked up on something. Wei Ying should check his phone, see if he has anything from Nie Huaisang, but his phone is all the way in Lan Zhan's bedroom, and he's too comfortable to go get it.

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. He has a small wrinkle between his eyes. "Yes, I know." A longer pause. "I appreciate that. Yes. Goodbye."

He hangs up and places the phone on the coffee table.

"Well?" Wei Ying demands.

Lan Zhan is silent for a moment, taking a long sip of tea, like he needs it to sustain himself. "Apparently Nie Mingjue inquired as to the nature of our relationship."

"Told you!" Wei Ying slumps back against the arm of the couch. "He's going to out us to Huaisang. I know he is. Brothers talk."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "He won't. My brother—" He pauses and takes another sip of tea. "My brother indicated that we are just always like this." He looks over at Wei Ying. "His words," he says.

"Well." Wei Ying wriggles a little to get to a more comfortable position on the couch. "I mean, that's not not true."

"He also said that he was not surprised by Nie Mingjue's inquiry," Lan Zhan continues. "And that my happiness is something he supports."

Wei Ying winces. "Ow, that's hitting too close to the bone, that's painful. Your brother doesn't pull his punches."

"He does not." Lan Zhan takes another sip of tea and rests his other hand on Wei Ying's calf, massaging it gently.

Wei Ying moans a little, his whole body going limp against the couch. "Oh, yeah, keep doing that," he says, his eyes closed, lost in the feeling of Lan Zhan's strong fingers kneading all the tension out of his leg. He floats there for a few moments, barely registering it when he hears the clink of Lan Zhan putting his tea down on the table until he feels his other hand join the first, fingers digging in gently on both sides of his leg now. "Fuck, yeah, you're—that's—" He sighs, wriggling happily again, then blinks his eyes open. "Hey," he says. "What, exactly, did Nie Mingjue say to your brother, though?" Inquired as to the nature of our relationship encompasses a whole lot.

"Hmm." Lan Zhan moves his hands to Wei Ying's other calf, continuing his massage.

"Hnrgh," Wei Ying says, feeling like his bones have turned to liquid here on the couch. "That's—hnrgh. Wait. Don't distract me. Or, okay, keep distracting me, but tell me."

Lan Zhan breathes out a tiny bit through his nose, not exactly a sigh, but pretty damn close. "He said, I think your brother's banging that kid." His tone is steady and neutral.

Wei Ying dissolves into helpless giggles on the couch, half rolling over so he can press his face against the back of it. "Oh my god," he says. "He did not say that. He did not."

"He absolutely did." Lan Zhan finds a particularly tight spot on Wei Ying's calf, focuses in on it, and it's just the right side of pain as the tightness releases all of a sudden.

Wei Ying groans, his giggles dissipating. "He did," he says, blinking his eyes open. "I can actually hear Nie Mingjue saying that in my head. It's appalling. Oh, hey."

Lan Zhan's hands are working up his leg, skimming past the ticklish spot on Wei Ying's knee to press in against his thigh.

"You're trying to distract me," Wei Ying accuses, even as his legs spread of their own accord, allowing Lan Zhan greater access.

Lan Zhan just hums lightly, shifting up onto his knees, hovering over Wei Ying on the couch. "Am I?" he asks, his voice coming out a little husky.

Wei Ying likes that husky voice on Lan Zhan. He's very into that husky voice, the same way he's into Lan Zhan's hands on his thighs, pressing in with his thumbs in a way that's going to get him going in about two seconds. "You are," he says, sprawling back even further. "You are, you definitely are." He moans as Lan Zhan's thumbs trace higher. "I just got clean. You're going to get me all messy again."

Lan Zhan makes an intrigued sound in his throat. "I am certainly going to try."

"Come here," Wei Ying demands, breathless and wanting. How is he aching for it, again, when Lan Zhan has already completely destroyed him tonight, twice? Twice! "Come here, you have to take responsibility. You've broken me, my body doesn't know how to stop wanting you."

Lan Zhan presses him down against the couch. He's hard—Wei Ying can feel it up against him. "Good," he says, rough and needy.

"How long have you been hard?" Wei Ying pants, writhing under him on the couch a little, just to feel it. "Sitting there, drinking tea, and getting hard."

Lan Zhan looks down at him. He doesn't say anything, but Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan, Wei Ying can read Lan Zhan.

"A while?" he asks anyway. "Giving me a horny massage? Getting me going, because you can't stop thinking about the fact that—yeah, oh." Lan Zhan is pressing his mouth against Wei Ying's jaw, working his way down to his collarbone, nudging the neck of the hoodie aside so he can nose in closer, his breath hot and damp against Wei Ying's skin. "Thinking about the fact," Wei Ying continues, trying to keep the words lined up in his head even as Lan Zhan's mouth is unraveling him completely from the inside out, "that you are banging that kid. You very much are banging that kid."

Lan Zhan ignores him, rocking his hips up against where Wei Ying himself has gotten so hard. He groans under the feeling of Lan Zhan's perfect weight against him, his hands pressing against Lan Zhan's shoulders, holding him close, not letting him go.

"Okay," he breathes against Lan Zhan's ear. "Okay, it's a good distraction. It's a very good distraction."

It is, and as Lan Zhan bears him back against the couch, Wei Ying forgets about anything except this: Lan Zhan easing his warm fingers under the waistband of Wei Ying's joggers, Lan Zhan's breath hot against his neck. It's worth it. It's worth everything.

Wei Ying glances down as his phone lights up, and groans. He doesn't want to look at it. He doesn't want to see why Jiang Cheng has sent him five messages in a row. But it's just going to get worse the longer he waits, so he thumbs his phone open and—holy shit. Holy shit.

He calls Jiang Cheng immediately. "Holy shit!" he says when Jiang Cheng picks up.

"I know." Jiang Cheng is breathless and sounds nearly completely unhinged and Wei Ying can hear his grin over the phone. "I did it. I asked her. I asked her and she said yes. She said yes, Wei Ying."

"Of course she said yes!" Wei Ying crows. "Look at you! You're a catch! She loves you! You're a star!"

"I am," Jiang Cheng says, his voice unsteady. "Or, I'm not, not me—she is, look at her. I can't believe it. I can't believe she said yes. I can't believe I'm going to get married."

"To Wen Qing!" Wei Ying can't stop grinning. Jiang Cheng did it. He sacked up and did it!

"To Wen Qing!" Jiang Cheng says back, his happiness ringing down the phone line.

"You told jie already, right?" Wei Ying demands.

"Of course," Jiang Cheng says impatiently. "I called her before I called you. She's going to call mom with me, in just a minute."

"Oh god," Wei Ying says, the joy of the moment fizzling just a little.

"Yeah," Jiang Cheng says. "I know."

"Auntie Yu will like it," Wei Ying offers uncertainly. "Wen Qing's going to be a doctor. Parents love it when their kids marry doctors."

"She's going to think Wen Qing should quit and stay home to take care of me and have babies." Jiang Cheng sighs. "She's already told me that. A few times."

"She can—" Suck it, is what Wei Ying doesn't say. "She can get used to it. You're only just engaged. Holy shit, you're engaged!"

"I am." Jiang Cheng sounds both freaked out and as happy as Wei Ying has ever heard him sound. "I really am."

"Tell me," Wei Ying demands. "Every detail."

"It was easy," Jiang Cheng says. "I mean, I thought I was going to puke just before I did it, but like." He stops, breathes in and out. "I was going to take her to dinner, do a whole thing, then ask on the walk home when we were alone."

"A good plan," Wei Ying says. "Solid."

"Right?" Jiang Cheng says. "But then. I don't know. She was over my place and we were just hanging out and she was a little sleepy on the couch, and we were trying to decide what to watch and. I just. I knew." He takes a deep breath. "I was looking at her and I knew and I just—went and got the ring."

"Did you get down on one knee?" Wei Ying asks. His chest is tight, just from hearing how sure and how happy Jiang Cheng is.

"I did," Jiang Cheng admits. "I thought I was going to fall down if I didn't."

"Did she cry? Wait, sorry, ignore that, it's Wen Qing," Wei Ying says.

"Of course she didn't," Jiang Cheng says impatiently. "She just did the thing where her face went completely blank and I definitely thought I would puke, but then she said..." He trails off, for long enough that Wei Ying makes an impatient sound. "She said, 'put it on me,' and she held out her hand, and I put the ring on and she—Wei Ying, she never even looked at the ring," Jiang Cheng says, all in a rush. "She just looked at me, and she grabbed my hand and then she said—" He gives a shaky little laugh. "She said, 'yeah, okay.'"

"Oh my god," Wei Ying says. "Did you cry?"

"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says immediately.

Jiang Cheng had definitely cried. Wei Ying can't stop beaming.

"I'm so happy for you," he says. "You deserve this. She's the best. You deserve the best."

"Let's hope mom agrees with you." Jiang Cheng heaves a heavy sigh. "Okay, I'm going to go call her and get it over with."

"Good luck." Wei Ying says, and Jiang Cheng sighs again and hangs up.

Wei Ying stares at the phone for a minute, swallowing down the feeling he gets when jiejie and Jiang Cheng have to team up to talk to their parents, and it's made clear that Wei Ying isn't, at the end of the day, their real sibling. It's fine; it's not a big deal; it doesn't matter, not really, and fuck if he wants to be part of the conversation with Auntie Yu, but there is, occasionally, just that moment of it being driven home how outside it all he is.

He takes a breath and shakes it off, shrugging, and goes to call Lan Zhan to tell him about how Jiang Cheng is engaged.

Nie Huaisang sends Wei Ying a picture of himself at some fancy bar last night, dressed to the nines and clearly about a half a drink past tipsy. I looked fabulous last night and you didn't even show.

Wei Ying studies the pictures. Nie Huaisang is wearing devastatingly skintight jeans, a distressed t-shirt that has always gotten him a lot of play in the past, and a leather jacket that Wei Ying is fairly certain belongs to Nie Mingjue. It's big on Nie Huiasang and definitely makes him look like someone you could toss around in the bedroom.

It's a good look.

He tells Nie Huaisang that, adding, You didn't even tell me you were going out last night. How could you expect me to show up?

You should have just known from the vibes I was putting forth into the universe, Nie Huaisang writes back.

I can't argue with that, Wei Ying concedes. Get any action?

Nie Huiasang sends a picture of a man asleep amidst crumpled sheets, clearly naked beneath the blanket that's sliding down his hips. Wei Ying zooms in. Very cute, he says.

His phone rings in the next moment. "Cute?" Nie Huisang says, sounding outraged. "He's not cute, he's fucking gorgeous. Cute. How dare you."

"I apologize, you're absolutely right, I was just too overwhelmed by his beauty to appropriately string words together," Wei Ying says contritely.

"I'll accept it," Nie Huaisang says, sounding mollified. "His name is Henry, by the way."

"Henry," Wei Ying says. "Oh my god."

"I know," Nie Huaisang sighs. "I know, but...look how cute."

"Oh, now it's okay to say he's cute?"

"I can say he's cute, you have to point out how absolutely top-notch he is, I don't make the rules." Wei Ying can almost hear Nie Huaisang's shrug over the phone.

"Do you even know his last name?" Wei Ying asks.

"I don't need to moan his last name in bed, do I?" Nie Huaisang's using his most reasonable tone.

Wei Ying can't help but grin. "Sound logic."

"Obviously," Nie Huaisang sniffs. "So where the fuck were you last night?"

"Home," Wei Ying lies. "Relaxing. Going to bed early. Sleeping the sleep of the just."

"A likely story," Nie Huaisang says. "You're as much of an idiot as I am."

"Yeah, but a tired idiot." Wei Ying yawns theatrically. "I'm getting old, Huaisang."

"Take that back. I'm older than you and I'm a youth, which makes you a babe in the woods. We're not even at our prime yet. Though I'm pretty damn close."

"You are," Wei Ying agrees. "Good look last night."

"Thank you," Nie Huaisang says. "But you can't distract me with well-deserved compliments. Did you have dinner with my brother last night? Instead of going out with me?"

"Uh." Wei Ying drops the ball on that one. He should have had an answer lined up. Why didn't he have an answer lined up? "Sort of. But you're making it sound like a date. I'm not dating your brother, Huaisang."

"Never even insinuate that again," Nie Huaisang says. "Now I'm thinking of you in a throuple situation with Lan Huan and my brother. You owe me for that. I'm going to have to bleach my brain. Oh my god."

"What is actually wrong with you? Why am I friends with you? Oh god, I don't know what's worse, the idea of it or the word throuple."

"The idea of it," Nie Huaisang shoots back immediately. "Trust me, the idea of it is worse. Why did you have dinner with my brother?"

"Oh, you know." Wei Ying chews on his lip. "I was hanging out with Lan Zhan and he had to pick something up from his brother and, well, one thing led to another." One thing surely had led to another last night, but that was quite a while after the dinner, and did not involve brothers of any sort, and Nie Huaisang very much did not need to know details on any of that particular set of circumstances.

"That's incredibly boring," Nie Huaisang says. "Do you hear how boring that is? I can't believe that's what you did instead of being out with me. Maybe you're right. Maybe you are old."

"You're older," Wei Ying says, trying to decide if he's offended by the age comment or relieved that Nie Huaisang thinks his night was boring, so he won't pursue any further details. "As you so recently pointed out."

"At heart, Wei Ying," Nie Huaisang says. "You're old at heart."

"I am extremely young," Wei Ying shoots back. "Both at heart and in reality. Look at me. I might actually be in my prime."

"No," Nie Huaisang says matter-of-factly. "You're just going to get better as you get older. You have that sort of a face. At thirty, you are going to have people falling at your feet."

"I—thanks?" Wei Ying's never sure what to do when Nie Huaisang is complimentary. It feels like a set-up.

"It's just the truth. You're disgustingly attractive." Nie Huaisang's voice is a little muffled, then he says, "Okay, I have to go, Henry wants round three."

"Henry is still there?" Wei Ying glances at the clock. "It's almost eleven AM. Did you have a sleepover, Huaisang?"

"He's very good, Wei Ying," Nie Huaisang says, then, more muffled, "Yeah, I'm talking about you." A giggle, then, "I've got to go get laid, bye!"

Nie Huaisang hangs up and Wei Ying contemplates his phone for a moment. He thinks he owes Henry—oh my god, he can't believe Nie Huaisang banged a guy named Henry—a thank you for distracting Nie Huaisang with his dick. He feels like he dodged a bullet. Henry must be extremely good at what he does for Nie Huaisang to have completely missed the juicy gossip lurking just under the surface of the brotherly dinner he'd had last night.

"Henry," he mutters to himself. "Who names their kid Henry?"

"It's going to be great," Wei Ying says, walking along beside Lan Zhan. "We get to celebrate Wen Ning's birthday and get to see how weird Jiang Cheng is now that everyone knows he and Wen Qing are engaged."

"I was under the impression," Lan Zhan says, "that Wen Ning did not enjoy parties."

"Wrong!" Wei Ying says cheerfully. "I can see how you got there—he's a little shy, but he likes being celebrated. Besides, Wen Qing only invited people who get Wen Ning—no one's going to bug him, or embarrass him, or make him give a speech or anything. He just gets to hang with some chill people for his birthday."

"Hm." Lan Zhan continues to walk down the street, his long stride eating up the block.

Wei Ying gives him a sideways look. "I will tell you, my friend, that most people are under the impression that you don't like parties."

"I like parties," Lan Zhan says, slightly reproachfully.

"You tolerate parties," Wei Ying corrects. He's right—Lan Zhan isn't shy, he just doesn't like big crowds, he doesn't drink, and he spends most of his time at parties doing the dishes in the kitchen. Or sometimes petting a cat, if the party in question is lucky enough to have one in attendance.

"I enjoy our friends and attending events thrown by them is expected," Lan Zhan says. "It is part of the social contract."

Wei Ying cackles. Lan Zhan's doing the thing where he sounds overly stiff and didactic to crack Wei Ying up. It works every time. "Social contract," he repeats, skipping a little to catch up with Lan Zhan. "That is so...you. It's so you. Perfect, really. Social contract," he mutters again. "God, I love you."

He's half a dozen steps down the sidewalk, still chattering about how funny Lan Zhan is, when he realizes Lan Zhan is no longer beside him. He looks back, to where Lan Zhan is standing on the sidewalk behind him, just looking at him.

"What?" he says, turning around on one heel. "What, come on, I—" He rolls back the tape in his head, trying to figure out what— "Oh." He hears it. He hears what he's just said. What he's just said, out loud, on a busy city sidewalk at 7 o'clock on a Saturday night, surrounded by people bustling past where they are very much blocking traffic in the middle of the street. "Lan Zhan, I—" He cuts off as a dude pushes past him, sending him stumbling a little bit.

Lan Zhan shakes himself out of his reverie and takes several steps forward like he's, what, going to start a fight with the guy?

"What, hey, come here." Wei Ying catches his arm, drawing him to the side so they're both out of the flow of traffic. "Listen," he says, his heart beating fast and uneven in his chest, because they've been dating, what, a few weeks, and he's still making them hide it from everyone, and then he blurts out something like that, and you don't just say that, not after just a few weeks. "Listen," he says again, his voice too high, too breathless, his chest tight. "I—"

Lan Zhan's hands are wrapped tightly around Wei Ying's forearms, holding him there. "Wei Ying," he says, and whoa, he's being really intense. Shit, maybe that really was too soon, and now Lan Zhan might want to back off and—

"It's okay," Wei Ying says weakly, trying to grin. "I just say things, they appear in my brain and my mouth just lets me say them, and even if it's true, that's just ridiculous. You can't listen to all the ridiculous things I say, you'd run out of time, there aren't enough hours in the day to—"

Lan Zhan shuts him up by crushing their mouths together, the kind of kiss that makes Wei Ying feel like his knees are melting. He's vaguely aware that they're still on the sidewalk, but it all fades away as he gets absolutely lost in the soft give of Lan Zhan's mouth. It's not until there's a wolf-whistle from nearby that they break out of it, the guy who whistled shouting, "Get a room!" like they're in a movie.

"Oh," Wei Ying says, staring up at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan's hands are still wrapped around his arms. It's possible that's the only thing that's holding Wei Ying up. "Oh, so, you're not...freaked out? Or mad? I know I'm a lot. I know I'm too much. I know, it's just who I am and—"

"Shut up," Lan Zhan says, not meanly. "Don't say things like that about the man I love."

"Oh." It's the only word Wei Ying can say now, apparently. "Oh, you—" He realizes his hands are wrapped in the front of Lan Zhan's coat, probably wrinkling the shit out of it, but he can't unclench them—he doesn't want Lan Zhan to step back even a single inch.

"Yes." Lan Zhan says it seriously—not his fake-serious voice, his for-real serious voice. He's so close that Wei Ying has to tilt his head a little to look up at him, Lan Zhan's eyes dark and penetrating as he looks down at him. "Wei Ying."

"The way you say my name," Wei Ying breathes, shaking his head just a little. "You make it sound—"

Lan Zhan cuts him off with another kiss, but that's okay, Wei Ying doesn't have the right words anyway, all he has is this song ringing in his heart that goes I love him, I love him, I love him. He loves him, and—it's okay. He loves him and Lan Zhan knows it, and—apparently—loves him back.

"It's only been a few weeks," Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan releases him from yet another mind-blowing kiss.

"It's been a great deal longer than that," Lan Zhan says quietly. His face is an open book, full of the longing and desire that, yeah, do seem to run a lot deeper than just a few weeks.

"I'm such an idiot," Wei Ying whispers. "How did I not know?"

Lan Zhan kisses him again, gentle this time. "You know now."

"I sure do." Wei Ying manages to unclench his hands from Lan Zhan's coat, patting it back into place. "How the hell am I supposed to go to a birthday party now, when all I want is to take you home and show you exactly how much I know? I know a lot, Lan Zhan." He looks at him, biting his lip a little. "I want to show you."

Lan Zhan's eye flare and there's a half a second where Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan is going to pivot them both around and steer them directly home so they can fuck about it. Then Lan Zhan gives the smallest sigh and carefully releases Wei Ying, brushing Wei Ying's own coat back into place. "We're going to be late," he says, sounding regretful.

Wei Ying sighs, as well, his sigh much bigger. "And if there's one thing you hate more than parties," he says, letting Lan Zhan steer them back into the flow of pedestrian traffic, "it's being late to parties."

"Correct." Lan Zhan glances over at him and Wei Ying feels it again, that rush of feeling coursing through him that makes him want to say it again, wants to hear Lan Zhan say it back. "Do you still want to go in separately?"

"I do." Wei Ying hurries along beside Lan Zhan on the sidewalk, his knees still a little unsteady. "I do, I just—it's stupid, I know. I know it's stupid. I just want—it's us. I want to keep it to just us. Just for a little while longer." He feels dumb just saying it, but he wants that, fiercely. He feels like—he's not sure. Like he wants to curl up with Lan Zhan, pull the covers over their heads, and keep all of this between them. Just for now.

"It's not stupid." Lan Zhan reaches for his hand, squeezing it, just for a second, before letting it drop. "I understand."

He looks like he actually does, his expression serious, and serene. He also looks like he's glowing a little, from the inside out, and Wei Ying's heart turns over in his chest. "Okay," he says, nodding his head down the block. "You go on in. I'm going to do a lap around the block."

Lan Zhan nods, and turns away, heading down the sidewalk towards the Wens' place.

Wei Ying takes a deep breath and turns the other way. It's good that he needs to take a lap. Maybe it will let him catch his breath, settle him down. Maybe by the time he's done, he'll be able to wipe the smile off of his face.

Probably not, though.

He's fine when he finally gets to go in. Totally chill. He spots Lan Zhan across the room, talking to Mianmian—both Lan Zhan and Wen Ning know her from school—right away, but he just takes a breath, tossing his coat into the pile on the bench by the front door, and looks around until he spots Wen Ning. "Hey, birthday boy," he says, giving Wen Ning a big hug and a smooch on the cheek.

Wen Ning is all flushed when he lets him go, a shy grin on his face. "I'm glad you came," he says.

"Of course I came! I wouldn't miss the birthday of one of my favorite people in the world. Your sister throws a nice party. Where is she? I should say hi to my soon-to-be sister-in-law." He looks around for Wen Qing, his gaze again catching on Lan Zhan, who is still talking with Mianmian. Lan Zhan glances up, and stops talking, seemingly mid-sentence. He's watching Wei Ying, his gaze focused and heated. Wei Ying feels it all the way down his spine, even from across the room.

"Wei Ying?" Wen Ning is saying tentatively.

"What?" Wei Ying drags his gaze away from Lan Zhan and looks at him. He has the feeling it's not the first time Wen Ning has said his name.

"She's in the kitchen," Wen Ning says slowly. "Jiejie. You said you wanted to go say hi?"

"Oh!" Wei Ying says brightly. "Right, cool, thank you! I'll go say hi and grab a beer. You want anything? The man of the hour shouldn't have to get his own drinks!"

"No, thank you." Wen Ning holds up the beer he's holding, still mostly full. "And Wei Ying—I'm really happy about your brother and my sister."

"Me, too." Wei Ying grins at him. "We're going to be family now."

Wen Ning smiles, bright and real.

"Okay, well. I'll circle back to you later." Wei Ying points one finger sternly at Wen Ning, who nods seriously.

He really does like that kid.

He heads to the kitchen, resolutely not looking in Lan Zhan's direction. He can keep it together so long as he's not looking at him. He definitely can. He peeks into the kitchen from around the corner and sure enough, there's Wen Qing. She's frowning at something in the oven, then closes the door with a bang. She spots Wei Ying as she straightens up and rolls her eyes immediately.

"What?" he protests, swinging the rest of the way into the kitchen. "I didn't even do anything yet!"

"Yeah, but you're gonna." She gives him a pat on the shoulder—Wen Qing doesn't like hugs—and leans back against the counter with her arms crossed.

"That's libel," he tells her. "I should sue."

"It's slander, actually," she says dryly. "Or would be, if it wasn't absolutely true."

Wei Ying ponders this for a moment, then gives her a grin. "Yeah, you're probably right. I guess I need to start agreeing with you, if you're going to be my brother's wife, huh?"

"Correct." Wen Qing raises one eyebrow at him.

"I'm ready," Wei Ying assures her. "I promise. Now, you got any weird beers for me?"

She lifts her chin at the fridge.

"Oooh, you went all out," Wei Ying says as he opens the fridge, studying his vast array of options. "Look at this selection!"

"A-Ning likes to try things based on the label," she shrugs. "I wanted to give him a—" She gestures with one hand. "Like a beer buffet."

"Well, you succeeded." Wei Ying grabs a fruited sour with an alarmingly-colored label and shuts the fridge behind him with his hip as he pops the beer open. "You're a good sister."

She snorts and turns back to the oven, pulls out a tray of perfectly crisp egg rolls. "Have you talked to your brother today?" she asks over her shoulder.

"Sure did," Wei Ying says cheerfully, hopping up on the counter and taking a long sip of his beer. It's good—exactly the sort of sweet-sour flavor that makes his taste buds sit up and take notice. "I actually can't believe he's not here yet." It is, in fact, shocking. When Wei Ying had been texting with him earlier, he'd already been fretting about what to wear and demanded that Wei Ying dress up a little, too, so Jiang Cheng wouldn't be the only one.

Wei Ying had done so, digging a red silky shirt out of his closet, and making the effort to tuck it into his best black jeans, the ones that make his ass look spectacular. He knows the whole look is good.

"Want me to text him to check where he is?" he offers. He's such a good brother, almost as good as Wen Qing is a sister. He's having a whole conversation without even once thinking about Lan Zhan. He's doing great.

"No," Wen Qing says, absently licking some sauce off of her finger. "He'll just get all worked up and worried that he's late. It doesn't take much to rile up Jiang Cheng."

"That's true enough," Wei Ying agrees. He's about to ask just how many ways she knows to rile up Jiang Cheng, leaning forward from his perch on the counter, when Lan Zhan enters the kitchen.

"Oh," Wei Ying says, his heart going thump thump thump. "I mean. Hey." His hands are sweaty where he's clutching the edge of the counter. He thinks he's staring. He can't bring himself to stop.

"Hello," Lan Zhan says. He's staring, too. He's looking at Wei Ying like he's hungry. He holds his gaze for a moment before clearing his throat and looking at Wen Qing. "Can I assist?" he asks, indicating the plate of food she's just finished putting together.

She rolls her eyes again—she's really very good at a withering eye-roll—and shakes her head. "Get a drink," she says, gesturing at the fridge with her chin as she scoops up the serving tray. "There's a bunch of fancy seltzers in there."

"Thank you," Lan Zhan says gravely.

They both watch her as Wen Qing leaves the kitchen with the tray. The sounds of the party are dulled in here, and Wei Ying feels like Lan Zhan must be able to hear the beating of his heart as he turns to look at him. "Hi," Wei Ying says. He feels suddenly shy, like this is all new. Like Lan Zhan hasn't taken him apart six ways from Sunday this week alone.

"Hi." Lan Zhan's voice is low and he moves closer, standing in front of Wei Ying.

Wei Ying's still clutching the edge of the counter, mostly to keep himself from reaching out for Lan Zhan. He's close to him, but not close enough. "Are you having a good time at the party?" Wei Ying asks. He licks his lips a little, his mouth suddenly dry with want. Lan Zhan's gaze drops to his mouth. "I saw you talking with Mianmian," Wei Ying continues. He reaches out one leg, hooking his heel behind Lan Zhan's thigh. "Do you like her or something?"

He thinks he's being very funny.

Lan Zhan just looks at him, and he doesn't roll his eyes, but somehow his look is just as withering as Wen Qing's. "I like Mianmian just fine," he responds. His voice is a little rough.

"Yeah?" Wei Ying asks, He has to swallow in order to talk. The only place they're touching is where Wei Ying's heel is still pressed against Lan Zhan's leg. He gives a little tug and Lan Zhan moves forward a step. Now he's between Wei Ying's spread thighs. Wei Ying's perch on the counter gives him some extra height and Lan Zhan has to tilt his head to look up at him. Wei Ying likes that. He likes that a lot. "You thinking of asking her out?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head silently. He keeps dropping his gaze to Wei Ying's mouth.

"Hm." Wei Ying tries to look thoughtful. "So not Mianmian. Is there someone else at this party you like? That you'd maybe want to ask out?"

Lan Zhan gives a slow nod. He's got one hand tucked behind his back but his other one moves to land on Wei Ying's thigh.

It feels scorchingly hot. Wei Ying can't catch his breath. It takes him more than a second to piece together some words. "You want help with that?" he asks, his voice coming out breathless. "I'm one hell of a wingman."

Lan Zhan nods again and Wei Ying is going to die if Lan Zhan doesn't kiss him, right here and right now. Lan Zhan tilts his head and digs his fingers in against Wei Ying's thigh, and he shifts minutely closer and—

"Hey!" Nie Huaisang bustles into the kitchen. He's clearly pre-gamed: his cheeks are glowing red and he's got that slightly glassy look in his eyes he gets when he's tipsy. "What are you two lovebirds up to?"

"Fighting," Wei Ying says quickly, as Lan Zhan takes two steps back. Wei Ying's thigh is cold where Lan Zhan is no longer touching him, and it takes all of his power not to loop his heel back around Lan Zhan's thigh and haul him back in. "Lan Zhan says I'm no good as a wingman."

"I said no such thing," Lan Zhan murmurs.

"You suck as a wingman," Nie Huaisang says, hunting around in the fridge, shuffling the beers around. "You get distracted too easily and wander off. Or—" He finally selects a beer and turns around, shutting the fridge and wiggling his fingers at Lan Zhan until Lan Zhan solemnly hands him a bottle opener. "Or else you get too interested in the conversation you're supposed to be wingmanning and end up talking about some niche interest to the person and you're not even flirting with them or trying to scoop them for yourself, you're just chatting." He takes a long swallow of his beer, studying them from where he's leaning against the far counter. "It's really annoying," he says to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan inclines his head—not agreeing, but not exactly arguing, either.

"Hey," Wei Ying says, wounded. "I can't help it if I like talking to people."

"Sure," Nie Huaisang says agreeably. He nudges the fridge back open and grabs another beer, pushing it into the giant pocket of the oversized sweater he's wearing. He's got on really tight jeans and some sort of artfully draped top underneath it, and the whole look makes him look both delicate and interestingly fey. Wei Ying approves. "You want another?" Nie Huasiang asks. "Of course you do." He hands Wei Ying a beer without looking at the label, but it is, in fact, another sour, so Wei Ying accepts it, even though his current one—abandoned on the counter when Lan Zhan had started looking at his mouth—is still three-quarters full.

Nie Huaisang is looking at them again. "So," he says, his gaze going sharp, "you and Lan Zhan—"

"Are headed back out to the party," Wei Ying breaks in hastily, hopping off the counter and clutching his two beers to his chest. "Where someone will surely appreciate my wingman skills," he adds loftily, shaking his hair back out of his face. "Come on, Lan Zhan, let's find you a nice girl."

That last part might have been overkill, as Wei Ying hears Nie Huaisang give a snort as they head out of the kitchen.

Wen Qing's parties have a very chill vibe. She and Wen Ning live together and their apartment is full of comfy furniture and there's a lighting concept going, and she's invited just enough people that the room is buzzing with conversation without it being overwhelming. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan have lingered in the kitchen long enough that they've missed out on the good seats—Wen Ning is curled up in the blue papasan chair in the corner, as it only his due as the birthday boy, and the older but super-soft futon has been taken by Mianmian and a coworker of Wen Qing's—they look to be in deep conversation, their feet tangled together in the center of the futon.

Wei Ying drops down to sit on the floor against the couch. "C'mere," he says to Lan Zhan, patting the spot beside him. Wen Qing has a big, fluffy rug, soft and feeling like they're at a party from the seventies, like there should be cocaine and, like, a big chandelier to swing from or something.

Lan Zhan sits beside him, a careful distance away. He's so good. He's being so good, trying to be careful to give Wei Ying what he needs, let this whole thing between them stay just that: between them. He's good, and he's kind, and he's sitting up so straight, like having good posture is easily attainable and something to be striven for. He's just—Wei Ying loves him. He'd said it mostly by accident. He'd said it, and Lan Zhan had said it back. Then he'd kissed the life out of him and Wei Ying wants—

"Hey!" He jumps as there's a sharp nudge against his side. "You know, some people just say hello," he points out, staring up at Jiang Cheng and rubbing his side where Jiang Cheng had kicked him to get his attention. "You're late, by the way. Hey, you look good."

"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says, but he flushes the slightest amount. He's wearing a fitted dress shirt, one of his pricier ones, a deep purple color, and with one more button undone than he'd usually have it. "Where's Wen Qing? I brought this." He's clutching a bottle of wine uneasily.

Wei Ying grins, wondering how many times he'd undone and redone the button, staring anxiously at himself in the mirror. He'd guess at least five times. At least. You'd think Jiang Cheng would find his chill now that he's actually engaged to Wen Qing but—okay, maybe you wouldn't think that. "She was just here," he says, glancing around the room. "But I think I saw her head to the kitchen. You should go give it to her," he adds. The kitchen has...good vibes tonight. He thinks Jiang Cheng will chill out if he has a few moments alone with Wen Qing.

"Fine. Okay. Stop staring at me. Go back to staring at Lan Zhan. Idiot." Jiang Cheng starts to run a hand through his hair and stops, dropping it. He's definitely spent way too much time styling it tonight, Wei Ying thinks.

"Go," Wei Ying says, reaching out his foot and kicking Jiang Cheng's leg. "You really do look good."

"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says, but it's automatic—he's already heading towards the kitchen.

Wei Ying catches Nie Huaisang's eye from across the room, where he's draped himself halfway around Wen Ning, trying to fit himself next to him in the papasan. Wen Ning doesn't look mad about it—he's flushed and giggling.

Nie Huaisang rolls himself off the papasan, almost tipping them both over onto the floor in the process, but landing lightly on his feet, reaching out to steady the seat so Wen Ning doesn't actually fall out. He makes his tipsy way to a spot where he's blocking access to the kitchen, catching hold of the arm of some boy Wei Ying doesn't know and engaging him in a conversation that involves a lot of intense arm gestures and not a small amount of pathos. If Wei Ying didn't know any better, he'd steer away from that particular drama. He's definitely bought Jiang Cheng some alone time with Wen Qing.

"I'm a great wingman," he informs Lan Zhan, taking a long pull of his beer after carefully putting the second one on the coffee table.

"I would never argue otherwise," Lan Zhan murmurs.

"Because I'm great at it and everyone knows it." Wei Ying feels tipsy already, not even one beer in. He can't stop what feels like a silly grin from spreading over his face and he's just happy, is all. He's just happy.

"Will you get me my beer?" He puts on a plaintive face after he finishes his current one in a few quick gulps. "It's so far away." He pretends to reach for it, the slumps back, defeated.

Lan Zhan, never one to hold back from a challenge, dutifully retrieves the beer from the coffee table and twists it open for him, even, bare-handed, before handing it to him.

It's hot. It's extremely hot. Lan Zhan is extremely hot.

"I'm freezing," Wei Ying announces. He thinks he's staring at Lan Zhan. He knows he shouldn't be—that's a rule, that's one of his rules—but he sort of can't stop. He needs Lan Zhan to stop sitting there, all straight-backed and appropriate and—hot. "Come here, Lan Zhan, I'm so cold. Heat me up."

Maybe he is drunk. He's not a cheap date but he's definitely in that realm where he's past caring about decorum or good decisions or secrets. He looks imploringly at Lan Zhan until Lan Zhan shifts closer, leaning up against the couch and tucking Wei Ying under his arm.

Wei Ying hadn't been freezing, he'd already been warm all over, but the heat and the weight of Lan Zhan's arm around him makes every single muscle in his body relax all at once. He sighs happily and cuddles closer against Lan Zhan, shutting his eyes and breathing him in. He smells good, he smells like himself, and Wei Ying thinks he'd be able to find Lan Zhan anywhere, even in a crowded room, just from following that scent.

Lan Zhan isn't stiff anymore—he's leaning back against the couch, one knee drawn up, and his arm is firm around Wei Ying, his huge hand wrapped around his arm in what seems to be a very proprietary manner.

Wei Ying doesn't hate it.

Over on the futon, Mianmian is leaning in to talk to Wen Qing's coworker—the coworker is a very attractive, extremely butch girl with a killer hairdo, and she seems enraptured in Mianmian's manifesto about the reduction of the carbon footprint being laid on the individual consumer being absolute bullshit.

It's a screed Wei Ying would usually get into—she's right, it is absolute bullshit that big businesses are responsible for the climate crisis, but people are made to feel brutally responsible for not recycling their take-out containers.

But tonight, he's happy just to half-listen to it as background noise, as he curls closer to Lan Zhan, tucking their feet together.

"Still cold?" Lan Zhan murmurs against the side of his head.

They're so close, Wei Ying can feel his lips moving as he speaks. It sends a happy little shiver down his spine. "Warmer now," he says.

Lan Zhan holds him closer anyway, rubbing his hand up and down Wei Ying's arm.

It's meant to be a comforting gesture. Wei Ying should feel comforted. Instead, the slow movement of Lan Zhan's hand over his arm is creating a curl of heat deep inside him, a slow unfurling of need. He's thinking about Lan Zhan kissing him on the sidewalk, like he was going to fuck him right there. He thinks he might have let him. He thinks he might let Lan Zhan fuck him anywhere. He thinks that, if he let himself go even an inch, then he'd be straddling Lan Zhan right here at this party, allowing himself to grind down against him and letting Lan Zhan take whatever he wants.

He tilts his head back against Lan Zhan's shoulder, looking up at him. Lan Zhan's watching him, his eyes dark, his mouth a little soft-looking. He holds Wei Ying's gaze,

Wei Ying swallows. He can't—he doesn't know if he can keep it together. He's heard people describe being in love as being hungry for each other. He feels hungry for Lan Zhan. He feels like it could tear him apart inside, how badly he wants to just...take more from Lan Zhan. Give more to Lan Zhan. Give him everything he has, inside and out.

There's a wail from across the room and Wei Ying startles, craning his head to see Nie Huaisang collapse, weeping, into the arms of the cute boy he'd been talking to. "Can you believe it?" he chokes out, pressing his face against the boy's chest. "Me? He accused me of lying? I would never. I could never. Look at me. I have an honest face. I'm a terrible, terrible liar."

Wei Ying can't help but grin hugely at that, immediately hiding it behind his hand as Nie Huaisang turns his head against the boy's chest to give Wei Ying a look. "Sorry," Wei Ying mouths, as Nie Huaisang tilts his head up to catch the boy's startled gaze.

"I'm too distraught to stand," Nie Huaisang announces, dragging the boy over to where Wen Ning is watching them with wide eyes from his spot on the papasan. "Help me," he says plaintively, nudging at Wen Ning, who obligingly shifts over as Nie Huaisang makes the boy help him into the chair next to Wen Ning.

"Looks cozy," Mianmian comments dryly, raising one eyebrow.

"Sure does," Wei Ying says. "Pretty sure Huaisang is going for an ill-advised threeway with the birthday boy."

Mianmian directs her gaze at Wei Ying, her eyebrow going up even further.

Wei Ying hastily withdraws his hand from where he'd been unconsciously tracing small designs on the inside of Lan Zhan's thigh.

"Hm," she says, leaning forward on the futon. "So you two—"

Wei Ying breathes a sigh of relief as Jiang Cheng chooses that moment to stumble out of the kitchen, Wen Qing not far behind him. Jiang Cheng's hair has been tousled out of its careful styling and he looks sort of like a deer in headlights, his gaze a little bewildered, hands loose at his sides.

Wen Qing, emerging from the kitchen behind him, just looks smug. She brushes her hand against his arm as she nudges him aside, the ring on her finger catching the light, and starts making the rounds of the party.

Wei Ying looks up at Jiang Cheng. His shirt, still unbuttoned the crucial extra inch, has been nudged to one side and Wei Ying is fairly certain he can spot the shadow of a burgeoning hickey low on his neck.

"Good for her," he whispers to Lan Zhan. "Get it, Wen Qing."

"Indeed," Lan Zhan murmurs, but he really doesn't look like he's paying attention to the various and sundry dramas unfolding throughout the party. He's just looking at Wei Ying.

Wei Ying, still grinning about Jiang Cheng, feels his breath catch just a bit. Lan Zhan looks hungry, too. Lan Zhan looks like he wants to eat him alive.

Wei Ying realizes that his hand has somehow made its way back to Lan Zhan's inner thigh, his fingers curling around it and digging in like someone's going to take it away from him.

"Having a nice time, boys?" Wen Qing asks archly as she settles down on the couch near them. She looks up at Jiang Cheng, who's still hovering uncertainly near the doorway. She tilts her head at the spot beside her on the couch and Wei Ying swears he lights up from the inside out as he hurries over to join her. No chill. None at all.

"Good party," Wei Ying manages. He knows he needs to move his hand. He knows he does. "Thanks for inviting us."

"Oh, always," Wen Qing says. "You're the life of the party, every time."

"Uh-huh." Wei Ying feels Lan Zhan pressing his fingers against Wei Ying's arm, one at a time, like a little massage. It's distracting, in a good way. The best way. "Every time," he adds, faintly, as Lan Zhan changes it up, moving his pinky up and down Wei Ying's arm, stroking him in a way that is both completely family-friendly and somehow one of the most erotic things that has ever happened to Wei Ying in his life.

"They're ridiculous," he thinks he hears Jiang Cheng mutter, but he's not really paying attention, having made the mistake of looking up at Lan Zhan again, catching that hot, hungry gaze. He swallows, and bites his lip.

"It's getting a little late," Lan Zhan says quietly.

"For you," Wei Ying agrees immediately. "You and your early bedtime. No way around it."

"Mn." Lan Zhan releases his arm slowly, sliding away from Wei Ying and getting carefully to his feet. Somewhere along the way, he's untucked the shirt he's wearing, and it's not anything anyone would notice, not really, but Wei Ying, watching as he moves, is pretty certain he's hard, or at least getting there. In his nice jeans and his fancy shirt. "Thank you, Wen Qing," Lan Zhan says politely. "Happy birthday, Wen Ning." He directs this across the room, towards where Wen Ning is sitting, looking utterly bemused, as Nie Huaisang is curled around him in the papasan, his drink still clutched in one hand, the other one trailed behind him and wrapped around the hand of the cute boy, who looks, if anything, even more bewildered than Wen Ning.

"Thank you," Wen Ning says politely, as Nie Huaisang takes a long pull of his drink and buries his face against Wen Ning's neck with a long, mournful sigh. Wen Ning's eyes are wide and he rests a tentative hand on Huaisang's hip.

"Good night," Lan Zhan says to the room in general. "Goodbye," he says, specifically to Wei Ying, who is still on the floor looking up at him.

"Right," Wei Ying says. "Okay, bye." He sits there, suddenly cold all up the side where Lan Zhan had been pressed against him. He has an almost-full beer in his hand. He thinks they've been at the party for possibly an hour. Possibly somewhat less than that.

He listens to the murmur of conversations around him, vaguely clocks it when Wen Qing draws her feet up underneath herself and moves to lean against Jiang Cheng. He breathes, in and out, the beer bottle sweating in his hand.

He makes it about three minutes. "Okay, so, I'm going to take off," he announces brightly, pushing himself to his feet. "Long day and everything. Early morning tomorrow. Lots of stuff to do. You get it."

No one is really paying attention to him, not even Jiang Cheng, sitting back against the couch with his arm wrapped around Wen Qing's shoulders.

"Oh," Wen Qing says, "we get it. We sure do." She's not even sparing him a glance, though—she has her face tilted up, studying Jiang Cheng. She seems to have somewhat less chill than normal, herself, tonight. They really are meant for each other.

"Okay, well, then." Wei Ying pushes himself to his feet, hoping his own semi is less than obvious to the distracted crowd. "Happy birthday, friend," he calls over to Wen Ning.

"Thank you," Wen Ning calls back, his arm now wrapped securely around Huaisang's shoulders.

Wei Ying breathes a sigh of relief as he makes his way to the door, grabbing his coat and slipping his shoes back on. When he opens it, Lan Zhan is standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall across the way. His eyes give this dark flash as Wei Ying emerges.

Wei Ying takes three helpless steps forward and presses Lan Zhan against the wall, kissing him the way he's wanted to do all night. He sinks into it, and he thinks he's making small, desperate sounds, but that's okay, that's okay, Lan Zhan is swallowing them right up.

It takes him a long, aching moment to be able to pull back even a little bit. "Hi," he says, his voice coming out wobbly and breathless, looking up at Lan Zhan.

"Hi," Lan Zhan says back, holding him close, his arms wrapped securely around him. He's so cute. He's just so cute. He leans up to press his mouth against Lan Zhan's again.

"So, uh," he hears faintly from the apartment behind them, the door still slightly ajar, "are we...not supposed to know they're dating?"

It's Wen Ning's most uncertain voice, and Wei Ying can't stop his lips from turning up in a grin against Lan Zhan's lips.

Lan Zhan pulls back a little, looking slightly worried. "Wei Ying," he says. "I'm sorry."

"What on earth are you apologizing for?" Wei Ying can't stop grinning. He can't. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"You asked to keep this between us." Lan Zhan still looks worried, a tiny crease between his eyes, the sides of his mouth pulling down a little. "I did not do a good job at maintaining that facade." He sighs, the tiniest bit. "I couldn't stop myself from touching you."

Wei Ying laughs, leaning in to kiss him again. "I wanted it," he says against Lan Zhan's lips. "I asked for it. I, in fact, demanded it." He kisses him again, then one more time—for luck. "I don't care anymore. I don't care who knows." He wants more kisses, wants to bang Lan Zhan right here up against this wall. "I don't think I ever did a very good job of hiding it," he admits. He feels like he's glowing with it, like anyone who looks at him will see it pulsing out of him.

Lan Zhan still looks concerned. "It was important to you."

"You—" Wei Ying gazes at him. He is helplessly, hopelessly in love. He feels like he's going to burst with it. "You," he says again, making it a whole sentence. "You are important to me."

Lan Zhan's face goes soft and oh, they really do have to get home if they have any chance of not going at it here in the hallway.

"Take me home," Wei Ying breathes. "Take me home and let me show you all the things I was thinking about you doing to me the whole time we were at that party."

Lan Zhan's pushing himself off the wall in the next moment, steering Wei Ying down the hall, Wei Ying giggling the whole way.

Nie Huaisang has posted a series of pictures from the party on his Instagram. Wei Ying sees them the next morning as he's lounging in Lan Zhan's bed, catching up. "Hey," he says, nudging Lan Zhan beside him. They had gone two rounds when they'd gotten home last night. Lan Zhan, despite having been awake far past his usual bedtime due to fucking Wei Ying through the mattress, had still gotten up at his usual five AM, gone for his morning run, showered, then come back to bed, waking Wei Ying up with his mouth around his cock.

It's the best way to wake up. Wei Ying wants it to be his new alarm clock.

"Hey," he says again, because Lan Zhan only murmurs something softly and reaches out to wrap a hand around Wei Ying's waist, trying to tug him closer. "C'mere, wake up, look. We're cute."

Lan Zhan cracks open his eyes as Wei Ying holds his phone out to him. Tucked in among pictures of a group of drinks held up in a toast, and of Jiang Cheng sitting next to Wen Qing looking absolutely besotted with her, and a selfie of Nie Huaisang himself looking smug on the futon with Wen Ning curled up beside him, looking startled, and that cute boy he'd been badgering all night on his other side, looking...game, is a picture of Wei Ying and Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan pushes up on one elbow, taking the phone out of Wei Ying's hand to study the picture more closely.

It's from when they were snuggled up together on the floor, Wei Ying tucked securely under Lan Zhan's arm. Lan Zhan has one leg stretched out, and he looks a million miles long. He's looking down at Wei Ying, his expression incredibly soft and almost...overwhelmed, like he's unsure how he got here but doesn't mind it one bit.

Wei Ying himself—his expression is something else. Wei Ying nudges in closer now, tilting his head to look at the phone. In the photo, his face is tilted down against Lan Zhan's chest. The smile on his face isn't goofy, like he'd maybe thought he'd looked all night. He just looks...content. Fully content, and like he belongs there, in Lan Zhan's arms, and like he knows that.

It's a very good picture.

"We're extremely cute together, Lan Zhan," he says again, taking the phone back and screencapping the shot, then shooting off a text to Nie Huaisang. Send me that picture.

Lan Zhan shifts, reaching out and drawing Wei Ying in closer, snug up against him. "It doesn't bother you?" he asks, pressing a kiss against the curve of Wei Ying's bare shoulder.

Wei Ying sighs contentedly and wriggles against Lan Zhan until Lan Zhan tugs the soft blanket up over them both. Lan Zhan keeps his place fairly chilly, which Wei Ying is down with—fiscally sound and good for cuddling opportunities. "That Huaisang put that picture out there? Nah. That wasn't a call-out post. If he really wanted to give me a hard time, trust me, we would know." He thumbs open his phone again—he wants to look at the picture again, they just look so good together—and there's a message from Nie Huaisang, with the original photo included.

Invite me to the wedding, will you? he's said, then added a bunch of kissing emojis, as well as a shot of him tangled up in bed with what definitely seems to be more than one person. But not too close to Jiang Cheng's, I'm a busy man.

Wei Ying grins at the phone. "Nie Huaisang thinks we should get married," he announces to Lan Zhan, tilting his head back to share the joke with him. "Just like Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing."

Lan Zhan is just...looking at him. He's not shaking his head, or giving him that cute almost-smile he has when Wei Ying's being silly at him. He's got his arm wrapped around Wei Ying under the covers, and he had been softly stroking the curve of Wei Ying's hip in a way that was either going to lull Wei Ying back to sleep pretty soon or get him going again, one or the other.

But now his hand has stilled, instead pressing tightly against Wei Ying, like he's holding onto him.

He looks like—he looks like he's thinking about it. He's completely still, watching Wei Ying with his eyes all deep and thoughtful, like the idea that they should get married is something he's taking very seriously.

Wei Ying feels like his brain is going to explode. "Stop," he says, burying his face against Lan Zhan's chest. "Oh my god, I can't take you."

"Hm." Lan Zhan traces his hand up Wei Ying's back, drawing what feels like a complicated design there.

"I'm very serious, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says against his chest. "You can't look at me like that. It's against the rules."

"I'm not sure that's accurate," Lan Zhan says gravely. "That is the first I am hearing of any such rule."

"Just because you don't pay attention to my rules doesn't mean they're not real," Wei Ying says, but he's giggling too hard to really get the words out, at the thought of Lan Zhan not paying attention to rules, at the thought of Lan Zhan arguing with him about this. At the thought of Lan Zhan looking down at him the way he had been, like he was very strongly considering the thought of marrying Wei Ying. Possibly like he was in the early stages of planning how he'd do it.

"I pay attention to your rules," Lan Zhan says, pulling Wei Ying closer. "I pay attention to everything about you."

"Oh," Wei Ying says helplessly. "Oh, there's another rule, and this is an important one, okay?" He tries to look sternly up at Lan Zhan, and fails, because Lan Zhan is so pretty and is watching him so intensely that Wei Ying feels like he's melting under the heat of his gaze.

"I'm listening," Lan Zhan says, again doing the thing where he sounds grave and serious, even though he's smoldering at him.

Wei Ying is so in love. He is so, so in love. "Big time rule," he says. "You can't say stuff like that and then not fuck me. You can't. It's not fair and, frankly, it's not allowed."

"Ah." Lan Zhan shifts down the bed, tugging the covers up over both of their heads as he rolls Wei Ying onto his back, pressing him down against the mattress. "Of course." He dips his head, running his tongue along Wei Ying's clavicle, the soft, wet heat of it making Wei Ying's eyes roll back in his head. "I'll make a note of it," he says, one hand drawing Wei Ying's leg up and wrapping it around Lan Zhan's hip securely.

"You'd better," Wei Ying says, going for stern again and missing it by a mile. He's hard, and getting harder, as Lan Zhan rocks down against him.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan nudges Wei Ying's head to the side gently, then drops his mouth to the crux of Wei Ying's neck. He kisses him softly, and it's not Wei Ying's fault that the sound he makes is a sort of desperate keen. "I take rules very seriously." He kisses him again, then sucks at the skin there, sending a shot of heat through Wei Ying's entire body. His cock is pressed against Wei Ying, hard, and hot, and wet already, sliding slickly against his hip as Lan Zhan's sucks a devastating hickey into Wei Ying's neck.

"I—" Wei Ying gasps, writhing underneath him, feeling like he's pinned fast against the bed, Lan Zhan's mouth branding him. "I—you—"

He can't even piece together words, not when Lan Zhan's hand is sliding ruthlessly over Wei Ying's flank, where Wei Ying still has his leg hitched up over Lan Zhan's hip.

"Yes?" Lan Zhan says, when he releases Wei Ying's neck with an absolutely filthy, wet noise. His fingers are tracing over Wei Ying's ass. "You were saying?" He presses one finger against Wei Ying's hole, tracing over it almost like he's just...curious.

Wei Ying makes a wounded noise. "Please," he pants, not begging, demanding. "Please, just, please, I—"

"Hm." Lan Zhan shifts back and rolls Wei Ying over in one swift move, ignoring Wei Ying's squawk of surprise. "Not wet enough."

"What?" Wei Ying manages, his brain not fast enough to keep up. "What are you—oh fuck, fuck, oh holy fuck—"

Lan Zhan's hands are pressed firmly against his ass, holding him open as he licks over his hole, his tongue hot and wet and licking him like it's his job, like he's taking this whole thing very seriously indeed. Wei Ying feels like his eyes have rolled back in his head, and he's hitching his hips back against Lan Zhan's mouth, where Lan Zhan is licking him there. It goes on for long enough that Wei Ying loses every single word he's ever known and is just making quiet, whimpering sounds, begging for it wordlessly.

Lan Zhan pulls back finally, after one last soft circle of his tongue around Wei Ying's hole. "Better," he says, sounding satisfied.

"Hhnrgh," Wei Ying says, his mouth pressed against the sheets. He hears the slick sounds of Lan Zhan lubing himself up behind him. His whole body is pulsing with how much he wants Lan Zhan, wants Lan Zhan to take him, and knowing that Lan Zhan is going to. That Lan Zhan is so good, he's just so good. "So good," he mumbles against the sheets, trying to reach behind him with one hand, get Lan Zhan closer, right now, right now. "So good, Lan Zhan, can you just—hhnrgh."

He makes that inarticulate sound again but it's not his fault, not when Lan Zhan is sliding into him with one inexorable push. He's still loose from last night but it's still a tight, slow slide, Wei Ying panting for air as Lan Zhan pets his side soothingly and tells him how good he's taking it. "Just like that," Lan Zhan is saying, his honeyed voice sounding like it's coming from very far away. "Just a little bit more and, oh."

Even Lan Zhan sounds breathless, a little strangled, as he slots himself all the way inside Wei Ying, staying there, deep inside him. His hands clench tight on Wei Ying's hips and he presses his forehead against Wei Ying's back for a moment, his breath coming hot and damp against Wei Ying's skin.

Wei Ying is going to marry him. He is. He so very definitely is.

"Please," he says, his face still pressed against the sheets, his voice coming out hoarse. He's asking for Lan Zhan to fuck him, for Lan Zhan to love him, and to keep loving him, and for them to absolutely get married one day. He wants all of it. "Please," he says again.

Lan Zhan's hand reaches forward, tangling with Wei Ying's where it's clenched against the mattress. "Yes," he says, and fucks him, slowly at first, achingly slow, then faster, like he can't control it, like Lan Zhan is the one who needs this. Like Lan Zhan is the one absolutely falling to pieces in the bed, clutching at Wei Ying and making these hot, desperate sounds as he takes him apart.

Afterwards, the sweat still cooling on their skin, tangled together amidst the absolutely destroyed bedsheets, Wei Ying tilts his head to look at Lan Zhan. "You," he says, "are an extremely filthy man. Did you know that?"

"Hm." Lan Zhan gazes down at him, looking—well, looking completely fucked out, still vaguely glassy-eyed and radiating contentment. "Yes."

Wei Ying bursts into giggles—he can't help it, Lan Zhan is literally the funniest person he has ever, ever met. "Why did this take us so long?" he asks.

"We weren't ready," Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying studies him. "You were," he says, finally. He thinks he's right. "You totally were. You were just waiting for me."

"I was," Lan Zhan agrees. His hand is on Wei Ying's hip again, resting heavily against him, like he's holding him there. "I didn't mind."

Wei Ying sits up, the sheets tangled around his hips. "You were waiting for this, too," he says, sounding like he's arguing, even to his own ears. "You would have told everybody. You would have done it that first day."

Lan Zhan shrugs one shoulder, his eyes watching Wei Ying closely. "I would have," he says. "I didn't need to. I had you. Nothing else matters."

"Augh." Wei Ying stares at him accusingly. "I can't believe you just say things like that."

Lan Zhan's fingers tighten on Wei Ying's hip, just for a moment. "It's the truth." He's smiling a little, tiny bit, one corner of his mouth tilting up.

Wei Ying loves him so much it hurts to breathe. "You're impossible," he says. "How are you like this?"

Lan Zhan curls his arm under his head, blinking sleepily up at Wei Ying. "I just am."

Wei Ying giggles again, staring down at Lan Zhan. He gets to have this. He gets to have Lan Zhan, still in bed with late morning sunshine pouring in through the windows, curled up amidst messy sheets, looking at Wei Ying like he could never want anything else in the world.

"You don't have to wait anymore," Wei Ying says softly. "I am ready. I am very ready."

"You don't have to be," Lan Zhan says. He sounds like he means it.

"I am, though." Wei Ying flops down beside him, looking up at the ceiling. He is. He doesn't care anymore, who knows. He doesn't care so much that he can't quite remember why he did care so much. "Hey, here, where did my phone go?"

Lan Zhan extracts it from the covers where it had disappeared right around when Lan Zhan had flipped Wei Ying over and started eating his ass, which, wow, isn't something Wei Ying is going to forget about any time soon.

"Thank you," he says, plucking it out of Lan Zhan's hands. "Give me a sec."

Lan Zhan does, still curled up beside him, blinking like a cat in the strip of sunshine. Wei Ying has to focus in order to take his eyes off of him, creating a quick Instagram post and pressing share firmly. "There," he declares, wiggling closer to Lan Zhan and holding the phone up so they can both see it.

He's posted Nie Huaisang's picture of them (giving him proper credit in the tags, of course), with the caption Lan Zhan 💕. It's enough. It's more than enough. He feels warm inside, just looking at it, and he's never quite understood the whole need to shout it from the rooftops when people fall in love, but he gets it now. It's not about telling other people, not really. It's about it all bubbling up inside of you until you absolutely cannot contain it, until you have to, you just absolutely have to let it all pour out.

Lan Zhan is studying the picture. "We are," he says, finally.

Wei Ying looks at him quizzically.

"Extremely cute together," Lan Zhan elaborates.

Wei Ying melts against him. "We are," he says, pressing his mouth against Lan Zhan's shoulder, just because he can. "And now everyone—"

He's cut off by his phone buzzing, then buzzing again, and again, and—

"Oh, no," he says, staring at it regretfully. "It's Jiang Cheng. I don't— It's too early for this, he's going to be all worked up. I'm sending it to voicemail." He presses the button hurriedly, sighing with relief, just before it buzzes again. "Fuuuck," he breathes out. This time it's jiejie. He can't send jiejie to voicemail. He hits the button. "Hey, jie, I—"

"It makes me so happy that you were ready," she says, her voice warm with delight. "You two look just...right, together." She sighs happily, and Wei Ying goes all soft inside.

"Thanks, jie," he says, feeling suddenly shy, even though she was the one who had known already.

"Is he there?" she asks suddenly. "Can I talk to him?"

"I, uh." Wei Ying eyes Lan Zhan, mouthing, She wants to talk to you.

Lan Zhan nods and holds out his hand for the phone.

Wei Ying hands it over, feeling a sort of awe at Lan Zhan's chill. He's one hundred percent sure he'd be feeling a lot more flustered if Lan Huan called right now and demanded to speak with him.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, after greeting Yanli solemnly. He's silent for a moment and then he says, "For quite some time." And then, "Yes. No, he did not. He wasn't—exactly."

Wei Ying is going to vibrate out of his skin. "Stop talking about me," he hisses.

Lan Zhan looks at him and shakes his head, smiling just a little. "Of course," he says to Yanli. "Yes. Please, I would enjoy that. Would you like to—one moment." He pulls back the phone where it's vibrating angrily against his face. "It's your brother," he says, to both Yanli and Wei Ying. "Shall I—yes, okay."

Wei Ying pulls back in despair as Lan Zhan hits the button and hands the phone out to him. "Noooooo," he whispers. "I take it back, I'm not ready."

Lan Zhan continues to hold the phone out, his gaze steady. "Your sister insisted you speak to him."

Wei Ying pouts at Lan Zhan—he's very good at pouting, he knows he is, it gets him what he wants quite a bit of the time. Lan Zhan, however, is apparently impervious to it at the moment. Or maybe it's just that Yanli's wishes trump even Wei Ying's pouts.

He heaves a big sigh and takes the phone.

Jiang Cheng is already yelling. "Really?" he shouts, loud enough that Wei Ying winces and yanks the phone away from his ear. He holds it out to Lan Zhan imploringly, but Lan Zhan just silently shakes his head again.

Wei Ying pouts harder but puts the phone to his ear again.

"—spent the last, what, decade telling me that you and he were just friends and that Lan Zhan would never even though every time he looked at you, it was so bad to watch. It was so bad, Wei Ying. He looks like he wants to eat you. And it's all the time."

Getting berated by how much Lan Zhan wants to do him is unexpectedly comforting. "That's not true," Wei Ying says, shifting around to get more comfortable amidst the rumpled sheets. "Is it?"

Wei Ying can hear Jiang Cheng breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. "Are you still in fucking denial?" he demands. "You posted that picture. You can see that picture, right? You haven't lost your vision? Are we still fucking doing this, because I will murder you, I really will, if I have to listen to—"

"No, no," Wei Ying says distractedly. "Obviously in that picture he wants to eat me." He thinks about Lan Zhan's tongue against his ass only a little while ago and squirms a little on the bed, wishing he wasn't thinking about that while talking to Jiang Cheng. "I mean. Obviously. But not before, right? Not all the time?"

He's watching Lan Zhan, who can definitely hear it as Jiane Cheng grits out, "All. The. Time. For fucking years. And you're no better, the way you look at him. It's pathetic."

"Not anymore, it isn't," Wei Ying says hotly. Lan Zhan is a little pink in his cheeks, like he's completely fine taking Wei Ying to pieces, opening up with his fingers and his tongue, saying all manner of things that are both filthy and so full of love that Wei Ying wants to crumple up like a ball of paper, but having Jiang Cheng point out that he's been broadcasting all of that to the world for years is the part that's embarrassing.

Wei Ying can't stand how much he likes Lan Zhan. It's too much.

"It's not pathetic," Wei Ying continues, over Jiang Cheng's obnoxious sigh. "It's just us. Me and him. You saw. We're..." He eyes Lan Zhan. "Together. Like. Together, together."

"Fucking finally," Jiang Cheng bites out. "Put the rest of us out of our fucking misery. Fuck, I owe Huaisang money now."

Wei Ying grins. "You bet against your only brother finding happiness?"

"Against my only brother getting his head out of his ass," Jiang Cheng clarifies.

"Oh, speaking of," Wei Ying says, appalled that he's let it linger this long, "You and Wen Qing last night."

"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says almost before the words are out of his mouth. "No. Shut up."

"I saw you," Wei Ying says. "We all saw you. When you came out of the kitchen. You looked wrecked. What did she do to you? You're not married yet, you know."

"Nope," Jiang Cheng says firmly. "We're not doing this. We're talking about you being an idiot."

"We're talking about both of us being idiots," Wei Ying corrects him.

"I'm hanging up," Jiang Cheng announces. "You're the worst."

"You spelled best wrong," Wei Ying yells out just before the call ends. He's grinning as he lets the phone drop to the bed. "Where were we?" he asks, moving closer to Lan Zhan. "Oh, right, you looked like you were about to take a nap. Big spoon me," he demands, turning around.

Lan Zhan does, easily wrapping his arm around Wei Ying's middle and pulling him close, his knees coming up to tuck against Wei Ying's. Wei Ying isn't a small guy, but Lan Zhan feels huge and protective behind him, like he'll hold Wei Ying here and keep him safe, and it's not something Wei Ying ever knew he needed but he's super into it.

"How did that go?" Lan Zhan asks, his chest rumbling with the words against Wei Ying's back.

"You heard it," Wei Ying says sleepily. "He's happy for me."

"Is that how the conversation went?" Lan Zhan asks curiously.

"Of course." Wei Ying yawns. "It was sweet."

"Okay," Lan Zhan says dubiously.

Wei Ying's phone vibrates again. He glances down at it. There are notifications and texts flooding his screen. He ignores the notifications but clicks on one message from Wen Ning, which is very sweet, saying just, "I'm happy for you." He's going to have to shake Wen Ning down for details on just what, exactly, he and Nie Huaisang had got up to last night with the hot boy.

He clicks on a message from Mianmian, which just says Now will you stop trying to set me up with your boyfriend? I'm a lesbian, btw.

Wei Ying giggles and tosses the phone aside. Everyone knows. He doesn't care. Or, okay, he does care: he wants everyone to know. Everyone should know how lucky he is.

He shuffles back closer to Lan Zhan, tugging Lan Zhan's arm around him firmly. "Did jie give you a talking-to?" he asks, his eyes sliding closed.

"She did," Lan Zhan says. His hand is warm against Wei Ying's stomach. It feels good.

"Did she scare you?" Wei Ying puts his own hand over Lan Zhan's, holding him close.

"Very much so, yes," Lan Zhan says solemnly.

Wei Ying grins against the pillow. "She's a little terrifying when she wants to be."

"I respect that about her," Lan Zhan says.

"You going to listen to her?" Wei Ying hadn't heard exactly what jie had said to Lan Zhan—she's a lot more soft-spoken than Jiang Cheng—but he knows her well enough to get the gist of it. "Not let me go?"

"Correct," Lan Zhan says, and how does he make even that sound sexy? It's a talent.

"Not even when I'm annoying?" Wei Ying yawns again, on the very verge of sleep.

"Not even then," Lan Zhan says, his words soft and slow, like he's about to drop off as well.

"Good," Wei Ying says around another yawn. "That's good, that's what I want."

"Mn," Lan Zhan says, breathing it out against the back of Wei Ying's head.

That's the feeling Wei Ying takes with him as he slides into sleep: Lan Zhan holding him close, telling him he'll never let him go. He thinks he falls asleep with a smile on his face.