Chapter Text
Lan Wangji was not having a good time. In fact, he was having a rather bad time, one might say. The bright, flashing lights were messing with his eyes, and the inescapable thumping of the bass was making his heart race in the worst way. Not to mention, the acrid smell of alcohol had him wanting to find a nice corner to meditate in. He longingly eyed the door to the bar. He wanted to leave, badly.
“Lan Zhan! You sure I can’t convince you to drink anything?”
And there was his reminder that he couldn’t leave, at least not now, not unless he could somehow disappear without Nie Huisang knowing. Surely, he wasn’t paying that much attention to him so that he couldn’t slip away for a second? Nie Huisang had spent the better part of the last half hour eyeing up men in such a seductive yet calculated way that it kind of freaked Lan Wangji out. Maybe he’d get distracted by one of them soon?
“—beer or a seltzer?” Nie Huisang was now saying. “I feel like you could totally dip your toes in with a White Claw or something! There’s barely even any alcohol in it. Hardly counts, right?”
Ah, maybe if Nie Huisang were to get drunk, then he could make his escape. He couldn’t do that though. He knew Nie Huisang could manage on his own, he did so almost every weekend, but the look in his brother’s eye when the idea of coming here was brought up was too ingrained in his memory to forget. If he couldn’t find anything less than horrible here himself, he might as well look after his friend.
~~~~3 Days Earlier~~~~
That was a terrible idea.
“A-Sang, I think that is a wonderful idea. Don’t you think, Wangji?”
Lan Wangji turned to his brother and blinked. Slowly.
“I think it could be fun! Wangji’s never been to a bar before. Plus, it’d be nice for him to meet other queer people besides just us three,” Lan Xichen stated plainly, resting a hand on his boyfriend’s lap.
“Right?!?? I’ve had some friends I’d wanted to introduce him to anyways, and what better place to meet the trolls than under their own bridge?”
Lan Wangji could think of many other more acceptable places. He was coming up with a mental list as they spoke.
“When did you plan on going? I heard they’re going to have some special for thirsty Thursday,” Nie Mingjue chortled, lacing his hand with Lan Xichen’s on his leg.
“Let’s do Thursday then! That’s perfect! I’ll get a car to take us from Lan Zhan’s!”
Lan Wangji felt like he was caught up in a whirlwind, being talked about like he wasn’t even in the room.
Much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin, his excuse of not being able to miss his Thursday night yoga class was not a good enough excuse for Nie Huisang, but out of “the kindness of my heart Lan Zhan! How could I ever bear to leave you behind?” they ended up finally settling on Friday night for their club adventure.
Oh joy.
~~~~•~~~~
“Let’s go dance!”
Before Lan Wangji had a chance to even process that, he was being tugged to his feet by a shockingly strong Nie Huisang. By the time they had made it onto the dance floor—Nie Huisang had walked and Lan Wangji had begrudgingly let himself be towed along, albeit dragging his feet—it seemed like all surrounding eyes were on them. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. Nie Huisang was an objectively pretty man, and of course he must be quite the spectacle himself.
For starters, he’d just been practically flung onto the dance floor, but it also didn’t help that Nie Huisang had insisted that he borrow a pair of his brother’s skinny jeans—an article of clothing that, at least before he’d started dating Nie Mingjue, he never would’ve pictured his brother owning—and that he should find his “least boring shirt” to pair with it. Once said outfit was procured, he was ambushed by a jewelry box full of silver accessories and an over-excited Nie Huisang wielding a makeup kit. Lan Wangji had hesitated over it all at first, but when his friend had said he just wanted to “play up his features”, he couldn’t find the right way to say no.
So that was how he ended up here, on the dance floor of a gay bar, looking and feeling ridiculous and having absolutely nowhere to go. Great.
“C’mon Wangji! Lighten up! We’re on the dance floor. You can’t just stand there like that,” Nie Huisang pouted, reaching out to tug his hands back and forth to the music. The corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth twitched to express both his amusement and distaste at the situation. He let his friend puppet his arms around in a strange sort of pseudo-dance, musing that this must be the same feeling a student who’d been unwillingly enrolled in his martial arts class by their parents must feel like when he’s demonstrating the moves. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
Then, as if the gods were specifically out to smite him today, Nie Huisang’s grip on his hands tightened, his eyes focusing somewhere behind him. Lan Wangji followed his gaze and mentally face palmed. The man was Nie Huisang’s type to a T: tall, ripped, and the most obvious walking red flag imaginable. Lan Wangji had no idea why his friend was so attracted to those types of people, especially when he knew they would only ever treat him like shit. Lan Wangji knew there was no stopping the avalanche that was Nie Huisang’s dating style, but it went without saying that whenever he came across one of the man’s exes, he would fix them with the nastiest stink eye he could muster.
Lan Wangji turned to face his friend again and was met with a mischievous, barely apologetic look. As if reading his mind, Nie Huisang whined, letting go of his hands. “You don’t get it, Wangji.”
Lan Wangji was fairly sure he did, in fact, get it.
“I have to. I mean look at him,” he pointed.
Lan Wangji did not look back, instead, fixing his friend with an exasperated expression that told him exactly how he felt.
Nie Huisang pretended not to notice. “You’ll be fine on your own for just a bit, right? I’ll be back soon I promise, okay love you, bye,” he said all in one breath before Lan Wangji could even get a word out in protest.
And then he was alone. Well, not exactly alone. There were approximately five people in his immediate personal bubble, probably another fifteen or so just outside of it, he thought to himself. It was too much to be comfortable.
He was just about to weasel his way back off the dance floor when someone approached him. The man didn’t say anything as he pushed his way into his personal space, just smiled at him when he met his eyes. Lan Wangji tried to keep his face neutral as he sized the man up. He wasn’t terrible looking, he admitted to himself, and nothing about him made Lan Wangji feel like he was in danger.
He allowed the intrusion, even attempting to bounce his knees a little bit to the music like everyone else was. He felt ridiculous, but it made the other man chuckle as he watched him over the rim of his drink. Lan Wangji really wished he had taken Nie Huisang’s advice to “take the White Claw with you even if you’re not going to drink it” so that he could have at least something to do with his hands. Instead, they lay awkwardly at his sides as he bobbed along with the rhythm.
Suddenly, there was a pressure on his back that sent him spinning and flying back-first into the man that had been eyeing him. He caught him with a surprised gasp that sounded right against his ear. Lan Wangji tried to regain his balance, moving to apologize to the man, but before he could move even a step, the man’s arms tightened around his waist, holding him in place. Lan Wangji froze, mind still whirling from his near-fall, not quite registering what was happening. Then, he felt an unmistakable warmth prodding at the back of his thigh.
Lan Wangji catapulted himself halfway across the dance floor in an instant, his feet taking him faster than his mind could keep up with, muddled as it was from the disorienting lights and music and… undesired company. All he wanted at that moment was to get away from that dance floor. To where, he hadn’t yet decided. His body was moving on its own volition.
“Oomphf!”
Lan Wangji could practically hear the sound of his ancestors laughing at him from the underworld as his legs slipped out from under him for the second time that night and slammed into a wall of pure muscle. Two strong arms came out to grab him, wrapping around waist to catch him before he could fall, and Lan Wangji couldn’t help but feel like, compared to the other man whose face he was trying desperately to purge from his mind, this embrace felt much… safer, kinder. Still not trusting his instincts though, Lan Wangji stood up and took a step backwards to remove himself from the impromptu hug. The man let him go easily.
“Whoa there, looks like someone’s in a hurry,” he commented in a teasing voice. It was at this moment that Lan Wangji finally met this stranger’s gaze, and he was stunned into silence. The man before him was beautiful, no, that still wouldn’t be doing him justice. He was positively ethereal, the low light of the bar behind him bathing him in a radiant glow.
The bomber jacket and black jeans he wore only accentuated the broad shoulders and strong muscles hidden beneath that Lan Wangji knew were there, he’d felt them after all. And his face—Lan Wangji was aware that among his friend group, and even in the martial arts scene, he’d been nicknamed the “Second Jade of Lan”, but suddenly, he felt there was no conceivable way he was worthy of the title. The man looked like his features had been carved by the Buddha himself.
By this point, Lan Wangji knew that he was staring, but he couldn’t seem to help himself; he simply couldn’t look away. He vaguely registered that the man had asked him a question, then murmured something that sounded like “twink on the run”, but he was too dazed to do anything about that. A sudden chuckle finally broke his trance, and only then did he have the awareness to feel ashamed at his blatant ogling.
“How about this,” the man started, and gods, Lan Wangji could listen to him talk all day. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Lan Wangji found himself nodding dumbly without really registering what he was agreeing to. The man then held out a hand, looking at him expectantly. Lan Wangji, whose brain clearly wasn’t fully back online yet just stared at it, wondering what he was meant to do about that. The man’s grin just widened, the sweetest giggle gracing Lan Wangji’s ears.
“Just follow me, sweet thing,” he said with amusement, politely retracting his hand and walking away.
As if enthralled, Lan Wangji followed behind him, all notions of caution and self-preservation completely cast aside. The further they walked, the quieter it seemed to get, and by the time they reached a small booth at the corner of the club, it was as if the suppressive veil of the loud noises and bright lights had been lifted off of him, finally allowing him to hear himself think and breathe. The man gestured for him to sit down, and he did, watching the man take a seat across from him. Lan Wangji took a deep, steadying breath, letting himself regain his bearings. He peeked back up at the man, half expecting him to be put off by his behavior, but the man was looking at him with a gentle, understanding expression.
“Better?” he asked.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirmed, embarrassment starting to take a firmer root in his gut. “Thank you.”
The man beamed at him, a dazzling smile that made Lan Wangji’s ears heat. “I’m happy to help!” He then leaned closer, his grin turning conspiratorial. “Don’t tell anyone else, but I sometimes hide over here when the stimulation of,” he gestured to the chaos of the club behind him, “all that gets to be too much. I learned my lesson the hard way that hiding out in the bathroom invites more trouble than it’s worth.”
Lan Wangji stared at him in distant awe, wondering how someone he’d just met was able to tell what he needed so easily. Even Nie Huisang, his friend since diapers, was always telling him that it had taken him years to understand how to read his face since his expressions ranged from “cold” to “supreme royal ice bitch.” Not only that, but Lan Wangji couldn’t recall any stranger who’d ever been this… soft to him. It almost reminded him of… No, now Lan Wangji was getting way too ahead of himself. Tearing his thoughts away from that, he nodded at the man in gratitude.
“Okay, stay here, then. I’ll be back with drinks in a sec.”
Lan Wangji allowed himself exactly five seconds to appreciate the man’s retreating figure. His shoulders jutted out beautifully, thick and firm, and his torso tapered down into a lithe waist. Lan Wangji wondered if he could fully encircle it with both hands. Okay, who was Lan Wangji kidding, he was just staring at the man’s ass. The material of his jeans stretched obscenely around the curve of it, and Lan Wangji was enraptured. The way his hips swayed as he strutted away had his mouth dry, and he felt his ears reddening again without his permission. He frowned to himself as the man finally made it to the bar and turned so that his gorgeous ass was no longer in view.
Judging by the man’s build, he clearly did some kind of regular physical exercise. It was hard to tell underneath the layers of clothing, but Lan Wangji made a mental note to ask him whether or not he did martial arts. He certainly had the perfect body for it. He has the perfect body for many things, his brain helpfully supplied. Lan Wangji was shocked at how quickly this man had thoroughly scrambled all of his thoughts, leaving him with nothing but the depraved and deranged musings of a teenager.
In an effort to get a fucking hold of himself, he began to recite the Lan precepts. He’d made it through a few, pointedly reminding himself of the few that he’d already broken tonight, before the man returned. That’s when Lan Wangji remembered why the man had left in the first place: to buy him a drink. Like, alcohol.
The man placed two things in front of him. One was a square tumbler filled with some ominous amber liquid that smelled so strong he could barely contain the impulse to scrunch his nose. The second was a sealed water bottle with the logo of the club on it.
“Thank you,” Lan Wangji said as he squeezed the water bottle then unscrewed the cap until it opened with a click—a thus unprecedented show of his caution finally being put to use. Of course his sleight of hand should be fast enough to disguise his actions as simply opening the bottle; it would be rude to imply that he thought the man had possibly spiked his drink.
However, the man’s eyes tracked the movement, something unidentifiable quickly glinting in his dark eyes before leaving just as swiftly. Maybe it was a trick of the light. “You also do martial arts,” the man stated, not a question. Lan Wangji gasped, endlessly surprised by the man’s every move, every word.
“I—yes. You could tell?”
“I mean I wouldn’t have guessed so earlier tonight,” he grinned, a playful tone to his voice, “but the skilled hands of a master at work, I could point them out with my eyes closed.”
Lan Wangji flushed in embarrassment. “I apologize for my earlier clumsiness.”
The man gave a full belly laugh, the sound making his chest feel light. He suddenly never wanted to hear anything but that noise from now on, something about it altering his brain chemistry.
“And for knocking into you,” he continued, hoping to elicit a similar sound. He was not disappointed, the sudden apology inexplicably sending the man into peals of laughter. Lan Wangji felt like perhaps there was some sort of joke that he wasn’t yet privy to, but if he had to be the butt of a joke in order to hear that lovely sound, then Lan Wangji would proudly make an ass of himself. Dear gods, what was happening to him? Not sure how else to react, he took a sip of the water and waited for the man to reply.
“You—you just looked so earnest. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Don’t pout, sweetheart,” the man said, still chuckling besides.
That was when Lan Wangji realized he was, in fact, pouting. Having this pointed out made him want to pout even more. He felt oddly vulnerable, an open book that this stranger seemed somehow to be able to read. “Sweetheart?” he asked, puzzling a bit at the pet name. He vaguely recalled that the man had called him “sweet thing” earlier too.
“Well you haven’t told me your name yet. What else should I call you if you don’t like sweetheart? What about… honey? Darling? Princess? Ba—”
“Just Lan Zhan is fine,” Lan Wangji interrupted before he could get too carried away.
“Ah, the pretty boy finally tells me his name,” the man said, shooting him a lopsided grin. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he repeated, as if savoring the way the name felt in his mouth. “A beautiful name for an even more beautiful man.”
This was about the point where Lan Wangji realized he was being flirted with. It sent a shock of unfamiliar giddiness through him. “Shameless,” he chastised, fully aware of how hypocritical it was for him to say as much given that he’d been practically drooling over the man for the better part of the last ten minutes.
“That’s me!” the man proclaimed proudly. “I’d like to see someone try to be more shameless than me. I’d wipe the floor with them,” he said cockily, as if he were bragging about his sword forms or test scores. “My baby brother hates it, but that makes it all the more fun. He’s such a complainer. Always ‘Wei Ying’ this, ‘Wei Wuxian’ that, but I know, deep down he loves me.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji murmured, now taking his own turn to test the other’s name on his lips. It was a very fitting name, he decided.
Wei Wuxian fixed him with another one of his charming smiles, and Lan Wangji was once again purged of all of his brain cells. “I have a brother, too,” he heard his mouth say before he could think of anything intelligent to say.
“Oh? Is he a martial arts master too? He must be based on your skill level. Did you both come out of the womb doing kungfu?”
“I have been told that I was quite the fierce baby,” Lan Wangji replied completely seriously. This had the desired effect of sending Wei Wuxian into another glorious bout of laughter.
“Gods, you’ve got to be the funniest fucking person I’ve ever met, Lan Zhan. I can’t with you!”
Something warm and pleasant unfurled in Lan Wangji’s chest. Funny, he wasn’t accustomed to being referred to as, but for Wei Wuxian, he was irrationally satisfied to be seen as such. You’ve got to be the prettiest fucking person I’ve ever met, Wei Ying, Lan Wangji wanted to say, but luckily, his brain cells seemed to have come out of hiding to prevent him from lovebombing the guy he’d just met. “Thank you,” he said instead once the man stopped giggling himself nearly off his seat.
“Ah, what did I do to deserve such lovely company, I wonder? I get the impression that this isn’t really your scene?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji affirmed with a nod of his head.
“Mmm, so I take it you came with someone?”
Another nod.
“A friend? A party? A lover?” Wei Wuxian wiggled his eyebrows as he drawled the last syllable.
Lan Wangji frowned and shook his head. “A friend,” he answered seriously. If there was a part of him that wanted to make it absolutely certain to Wei Wuxian that he was, in fact, single, he was choosing to ignore it at this time, thank you very much.
It may have been a trick of the light, but Lan Wangji swore he saw something shift in Wei Wuxian’s gaze as he said the word “friend”.
“I see,” Wei Wuxian said, nodding to himself and taking a sip of his drink. Lan Wangji took a sip of his water bottle, pointedly not making eye contact with the tumbler of mystery alcohol on the table in front of him. He set his water down and looked up as Wei Wuxian opened his mouth and then closed it, as if debating whether to say something or not. Lan Wangji’s eyes tracked the movement. The man really did have such nice, full lips. He could tell that he must be wearing some sort of lip tint or gloss, and despite that, or perhaps because of it, the unmistakable plushness of them made him want to bite down to see if they were as soft as they looked. Gods, I seriously need to get a hold of myself.
“Something on my face?” Wei Wuxian asked, and it was unclear if the impish grin he wore was because he was being teased or if it was just how he always smiled. Lan Wangji found he didn’t mind either way.
“Lip tint?” Lan Wangji asked with a tilt of his head. He was genuinely curious. And also maybe a little bit of it was because he just wanted to hear the man’s voice, watch his pretty lips move.
The pretty lips frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those gays who think wearing makeup is too feminine?” he said, one eyebrow arching in a challenge.
Lan Wangji mentally facepalmed. Nice going, Lan Zhan. Now the pretty man is going to think you’re a bigot. Or an idiot. Or both. He tripped over himself trying to get the right words out to refute it. After floundering to no avail, he pointed to his own face. “I’m wearing makeup too.”
Wei Wuxian leaned forward, squinting as he inspected him, and his expression changed instantly, much to Lan Wangji’s relief. “You are, aren’t you! It must be barely any though, I can hardly even tell! What a natural beauty you are, my Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian trilled dramatically.
Nothing compared to you, Lan Wangji wisely chose to keep to himself. He instead opted for a grateful head nod. Lan Wangji sat still, watching Wei Wuxian’s eyes rove over him as if trying to see if there was anything else Lan Wangji was hiding from him for him to find. They were both silent, but it wasn’t like most awkward silences Lan Wangji usually felt—and he’d been in his fair share of awkward silences. Oddly, the silence felt… comfortable, companionable, like the both of them were just content to study each other’s faces for the moment. When their gazes met a while later, Wei Wuxian broke into the most breathtaking grin he’d ever seen. Aaaand the traitorous blush was back. Oh well.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Wei Wuxian asked suddenly, snapping them both out of their temporary daze. There seemed to be no judgment in his tone, a fact that filled Lan Wangji with immense relief.
“So I’ve been told,” he replied drily.
Much to Lan Wangji’s satisfaction, Wei Wuxian doubled over in laughter once more. It was then that something in his heart seemed to finally slot into place, Lan Wangji realized with a start. Oh shit, I really like him.
Completely unaware of Lan Zhan’s crisis happening right across from him, Wei Wuxian finally began collecting himself, wiping the corners of his eyes that had begun to wet since he was laughing so hard. “Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. Won’t you do me the pleasure of taking you to the dance floor?” he asked, doing a completely unnecessary flourish and extending his hand out.
Lan Wangji considered it. If he was being honest, he was really enjoying himself here in their little corner. He then thought about the idea of leaving said corner and going back to the chaos and uncertainty that embodied the dance floor. Surprisingly, rather than feeling repulsed, he felt oddly comfortable with the idea of going back there, as long as it was with Wei Wuxian. Hell, he’d probably go just about anywhere as long as it was with Wei Wuxian.
Fuck.
Instead of thinking too hard about that, Lan Wangji nodded, taking the proffered hand.
Double fuck.
Lan Wangji had to suppress a full-body shiver as Wei Wuxian’s hand slotted against his own. Wei Wuxian’s hand was big, nearly eclipsing his own in its grip. His palms were lightly callused, a clear indication that he often did work with his hands. The thoughts of just what he could do with those strong, experienced hands sent a zing of electricity up his spine. Not only were his hands physically something out of Lan Wangji’s wet dreams, but the gentle way he stroked his thumb over the back of his hand as they stood and began making their way back over to the other side of the club grounded him like nothing else, not even a hug from his brother, ever had. What kind of sorcery is this? Don’t tell me I’m going to have to thank Nie Huisang for abandoning me, he lamented inwardly. But those thoughts easily faded to background noise as they approached the spot where Lan Wangji had tripped earlier.
“Watch your step,” Wei Wuxian teased, elbowing him in the ribs. “Ah, my Lan Zhan, you know I’m just joking with you. I would never let you fall.” And somehow, Lan Wangji completely believed him.
As they danced—yes, Lan Wangji was still only bouncing his knees, no, Lan Wangji did not forget to bring his drink to the dance floor with him this time—unfortunately, not even the dazzling presence of Wei Wuxian was enough to completely erase the memory of what had happened with that other guy earlier. He found himself self-consciously trying to tug his shirt down or putting an arm behind himself to cover his ass in any way. By the third time Lan Wangji looked over his shoulder to make sure no one behind him was getting too close, Wei Wuxian was watching him, eyebrows knitted. He probably thinks I’m looking for a way to leave. Or that I lied, and I’m actually hiding from some secret boyfriend. Or maybe that—
Every thought polluting Lan Wangji’s brain instantly ceased as Wei Wuxian handed him his drink and began to… strip. Whatever fantasy cartoon buff build Lan Wangji had conjured up in his mind was almost pathetic compared to the sight of Wei Wuxian’s bare arms. As he shimmied out of his jacket, his huge, vascular muscles bent and stretched obscenely around his tight tank top, and Lan Wangji was, not for the first time that night, heavily inclined to get his teeth on the man. If they were natural, which Lan Wangji inanely hoped they were, they were a true testament to the hard work the man must have put in to get them. Not to mention the much more important fact that they were sexy as hell. Lan Wangji did not want to be slung over the man’s shoulder fireman style and fucked into the nearest surface and holy fuck was it possible to get contact drunk?
Wei Wuxian positively basked in Lan Wangji’s gaze, smirking down at him like he could see every depraved thought thundering through his mind. Maybe Lan Wangji should care. He did not. Once the jacket was completely off, Wei Wuxian crooked a finger. “C’mere.”
Lan Wangji, positively bewitched, stepped forward. He was aware that his mouth was probably still agape. He didn’t care much about that either. And then Wei Wuxian was bending down, telegraphing his movements as he extended his hands out to the sides of his waist. Careful not to touch any more than necessary, much to Lan Wangji’s simultaneous immense gratitude and immense frustration, the man tied his jacket around his hips while he stood there uselessly. Seconds later, as Wei Wuxian extricated his glass out of Lan Wangji’s loose grip did his brain finally come back online and realize what had happened.
Wei Wuxian had realized Lan Wangji was uncomfortable. Wei Wuxian had realized that Lan Wangji needed something to cover his backside. Wei Wuxian selflessly took his own jacket off and helped fix Lan Wangji’s problem without him even needing to ask, not that he ever in a million years would’ve asked anyways.
Wei Wuxian had to be some sort of mystical, mind-reading, sex demon. There was simply no other rational explanation. Well, besides the fact that Wei Wuxian could genuinely be a gentle, observant, unreasonably sexy, real-life man. But that was simply impossible. Lan Wangji refused to get his hopes up. That was admittedly the only thing he could prevent from getting up. It would have been embarrassing how turned on he was if it weren’t for the fact that he had absolutely no capacity to do anything but stare in awe at the man.
“Better?” Wei Wuxian asked, trying to look concerned but unable to keep the smug satisfaction off his face. Lan Wangji, as previously established, lacked the cognitive function to do much else besides nod whatever he was saying. Hell, the man could have asked him just about anything, and he would’ve nodded along just as dumbly.
“Gays!” Nie Huisang wailed, materializing out of nowhere—though perhaps he’d been standing there the whole time, Lan Wangji wouldn’t have had any way to know. With an immense amount of regret, Lan Wangji finally tore his eyes away from Wei Wuxian and nearly cracked a smile.
Nie Huisang looked positively wrecked. The lipstick that he’d taken the time to carefully apply earlier that evening was smeared all across his face, traces of it smudged across his cheek and down his neck. He had a few bright hickeys blooming on his neck and collar, and a few watery streaks of mascara—though Lan Wangji could have sworn that Nie Huisang owned countless tubes of the waterproof stuff—painted faint lines below his eyes. Oh, and he smelled like an entire distillery. Was this really how wild his friend got every single weekend? Lan Wangji privately applauded his strength of constitution.
“Ahhhh, I see… you… you’ve—” he slurred, getting interrupted by his own hiccup. “Y…ou’ve alr…y found each other!” he trilled, now leaning heavily on Lan Wangji’s shoulder.
“What nonsense are you spouting, Sang’er, hmm? Do I need to call you a cab already?”
Hold up. Pause. Sang’er? Already found each other? “A-Sang, what—? Do you—?”
Nie Huisang, either too inebriated to realize he’d even been asked a question or, having no clue what the fuck Lan Wangji was trying to say—to be honest, neither did Lan Wangji himself—continued to drunkenly babble about the gods and fate and some sort of eldritch ritual he’d supposedly performed.
“Lan Zhan, you know Nie Huisang?” Wei Wuxian asked, interrupting Nie Huisang’s newest rambling tangent about his fashion degree and how art school was undoubtedly worth it. Like the angel he was, he peeled the drunken man off of Lan Wangji’s side and let him cling to him instead. It did not go unnoticed that Wei Wuxian was at least a full foot taller than the other.
Before Lan Wangji could even nod in reply, Nie Huisang squealed, “They’re getting married!” He attempted to wriggle out of Wei Wuxian’s hold—he did not get far—and looked straight up at the ceiling. “He’s going to propose, Lan-ge! Ahhh, my brother! Lan Zhan!”
Lan Wangji, somewhat unfamiliar with how to handle Nie Huisang when he was this drunk, was not following what he was saying at all. “Nobody is getting married,” Lan Wangji corrected, first. Then, his brain latched onto another possibility. Maybe Wei Wuxian was thinking that Nie Huisang was talking about him getting married, and he quickly interjected, “and I’m certainly not getting married.”
On the other hand, apparently Wei Wuxian was familiar with how to handle Nie Huisang when he was this drunk and shook his head with a smile. “He must mean his older brother and Lan Huan.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the realization dawned on him. “You’re Lan Huan’s younger brother.”
Okay, whoa, there was a lot to unpack here. First of all, if Nie Huisang’s half-conscious word was to be trusted, Nie Mingjue seemed to be planning something that he was not yet privy to? Second, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s best friend knew each other and were close enough for Wei Wuxian to call him “Sang’er”? And last, and most glaringly of all, Wei Wuxian knew his brother? “I—yes, but—”
“Lan Wangji! Lan—hic—Zhan! Oh great… venerable Hanguang-Jun! Are you hold—hic… holding alcohol?” Nie Huisang gasped as if affronted and leaned forward, toes nearly leaving the ground, as he stuck his tongue out to try to get a taste. Realizing it to be a lost cause, he swiveled in Wei Wuxian’s arms. “Earlier I—hic— barely… he didn’t even… hic—acknowledge… eight fucking dollars! No—hic—respect…”
Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji searchingly. Lan Wangji scratched the back of his neck nervously, embarrassed to have been caught in what felt like a lie. Once, again, before either of them could get a peep out, Nie Huisang flailed in his captor’s arms. “Hot man, hot man, lemme att’em,” he chanted, making an impressive show of strength and bursting out of Wei Wuxian’s hold like a bull out of its gate. Oh boy.
“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian said, and somehow, that was the most surprising thing anyone had said in the entire encounter. What on earth did he think he did wrong that he had to be sorry for? “I didn’t know you don’t drink. I hope I didn’t make you feel like you had to accept it.”
Lan Wangji gasped and shook his head. Of course there was no way he could’ve known, and he hadn’t felt forced at all. As if to prove his point, he brought the glass to his lips and took the teensiest sip.
And then everything faded to black.