Wei Wuxian inherited many things from his mother, but he got his father's hair, thick, long, lustrous and silky. His hair has always been longer than most and darker than midnight. He doesn't want to cut it, but hates it coming onto his face, on his hands on his sword while he's doing anything, THUS, ✨he braids it✨.
It's a long thick braid, reaching below his thighs and sitting on his shoulders without his permission. Whenever he turns around or is sword drilling, it swishes behind him like it has a life of it's own.
Bonus: wwx in braid is many people's gay / straight awakening. Jc and yzh has to keep away suiters (and creeps) behind wwx , cuz he's oblivious to other's crush on him. As he's busy looking at lwj 🙃
"Lan-xiong," Nie Huaisang says one afternoon, while Lan Wangji is trying to meditate in the courtyard behind the Yashi. "There's something you ought to know before the guest disciples get here."
Lan Wangji squints at him.
"What is it?" he says flatly. Knowing Nie Huaisang as he does, he guesses that Huaisang intends to relay some piece of gossip; but as telling tales about others is strictly forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang ought to know better than to attempt such a thing before the clan's Head of Discipline.
"It's about Yunmeng Jiang," Nie Huaisang says.
"What about Yunmeng Jiang?" Lan Wangji has had little to do with the cultivators of Yunmeng Jiang, but he doubts that a class of their most talented disciples could cause much trouble at the lectures. "Have Jiang-zongzhu's daughter and her shidimei decided not to come?"
Nie Huaisang waves his fan in dismissal. "Oh, nothing so serious as that. It's only—well, have you heard of Wei Wuxian?"
"Briefly. He is Jiang-zongzhu's head disciple, is he not?"
The aforementioned Wei Wuxian's instatement as head disciple was an occasion of some note in the Jianghu, Lan Wangji remembers. For one thing, Wei Wuxian is not a bloodline member of the clan: though this is not so uncommon amongst the latest generation of head disciples, especially in sects where clan disciples are not the majority. For another, Wei Wuxian was apparently disfavored by his shimu from the day Jiang Fengmian first brought him to Lotus Pier at the age of five—and when the news of his appointment reached Lanling Jin last year, there was a great deal of murmuring about how Yu Ziyuan had taken it.
"He is the head disciple," Nie Huaisang says gravely, "but that is of no importance here. The trouble is—oh, it's just a word, don't look like that—is that Wei-gongzi is a calamitous beauty, and his shidimen wrote to me asking whether the Cloud Recesses would be willing to assist in his protection during the lectures."
He holds out a letter and passes it to Lan Wangji. "Here. Jiang-xiong explained everything."
Much to Lan Wangji's regret, the letter's contents are exactly as Nie Huaisang described them. Apparently, Wei Wuxian—referred to in the letter as da-shixiong, as it had been penned by Jiang Wanyin and his biaodi Yu Zhenhong—is both too handsome for his own good and dangerously charming; and as a result, Jiang Wanyin professes, his shixiong leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes.
The last time we visited Lanling—which we would not have done if we had any choice, but the fact of my sister's betrothal ensured that we had precious little say in the matter—five of Jin Zixuan's cousins came to blows at the sight of my shige, each insisting that she and no other would be engaged to him in the future, Jiang Wanyin writes. One of the girls jilted her intended on the spot, vowing that she no longer wished to see him again as long as Wei Wuxian walked the earth; and her intended tore off the yaopei she had gifted him and flung it into the nearest koi pond before declaring that she need not worry about keeping their engagement, for he no longer had any love for her and now wished to bring our da-shixiong into his clan as a bride.
Lan Wangji looks up in dismay. "What?"
"Read on," Nie Huaisang advises grimly. "It gets worse."
Yesterday, he stole a flower from a local bun-girl and went to market with the bloom behind his ear; and later, we received news that the sight of him caused six carriages, nine produce wagons, and two riders on horseback to crash when he stopped to cross the street. He returned home after buying all the ruined produce and helping the women who were bruised in the melee, without the slightest idea that it only occurred because the driver of the first carriage was blinded by the sunlight reflected upon his hair; and the next morning, Fuqin received so many petitioners asking for Wei Wuxian's hand in marriage that he hung a sign at the gates to announce that he would entertain no suitors until after Wei Wuxian comes of age.
"Guanyin in heaven," Lan Wangji hears himself croak, stunned. "How—?"
Nie Huaisang shrugs. "If you ask me, it's the hair."
Lan Wangji shakes his head and looks back down at the letter in disbelief.
Thus, it is my hope that you will inform the second Young Master Lan about the two latest incidents, and impress upon him the importance of restraint in the Lan disciples—and in all the others who will come to study under Lan-laoshi—well before we arrive. (This passage is written in a more graceful hand, likely Yu Zhenhong's.) Our seventh shimei once fell off the pier and into the lake because da-shixiong smiled at her, and no trouble came of it because Lingxi-shimei is a strong swimmer; but if Lan-laoshi's disciples keep falling down the mountain because da-shixiong braided his hair instead of putting it up, someone might truly end up coming to harm.
"This beggars belief," Lan Wangji says doubtfully. "Can one man truly...?"
"I've seen him," Nie Huaisang replies. "And yes. Keep reading."
"'And if it would not be too much trouble,'" Lan Wangji reads aloud, "'please also consult Lan-er-gongzi or Zewu-jun on the subject of da-shixiong's safety.' Safety?"
Nie Huaisang winces. "Wei-xiong is very lovely to look upon," he offers, "and from his dress, it is not always clear that he has the backing of a great sect. Some men do not take well to being told no by a beauty."
"And by some men, you mean the men of Lanling Jin?"
"One never knows where such dangers may come from," Nie Huaisang tells him. "But if you ask me, you ought to keep an eye on the Jins anyway. Apart from Jin Zixuan, I doubt there's a single man in this year's course who doesn't hate Wei Wuxian for enchanting all the Jin girls."
Lan Wangji nods and rises to his feet. "I will handle this matter," he says decisively, turning towards the open door to the Lanshi. "You write back to Jiang-gongzi, and inform him that the Cloud Recesses will be duly prepared for his shige's arrival."
The Lan disciples are prepared accordingly; for over the next week, Lan Wangji orders all the male disciples between fifteen and twenty-five to copy the sect precepts concerning restraint, and ensures that none of the maiden disciples over the age of twelve will have cause to meet Wei Wuxian save for his own sect sisters. Fortunately for everyone concerned, Wei-gongzi is said to be twice as brilliant as he is beautiful: which means that Shufu is easily persuaded to place him in the advanced lectures reserved for disciples who would be hampered by study with the rest of their age-mates. Lan Wangji is the sole male disciple allowed to attend those lectures; so for much of his time at the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian's only classmates will be a pair of married women and Lan Wangji himself.
Lan Wangji thinks better of the arrangement three weeks later, when he is carried to the infirmary after meeting Wei Wuxian on the mountain path and falling thirty feet into a copse of trees below.
"I'm so sorry. Lan-er-gongzi, I'm really sorry," Wei Wuxian gasps, gripping Lan Wangji's clenched fists as Xiongzhang and one of the healers set his broken legs at the other end of the bed. "You can hold on as tightly as you like, all right? Zewu-jun is nearly finished."
Lan Wangji closes his eyes tightly.
"What have I done?" he hears Wei Wuxian mutter to himself. "I'm so clumsy. I'll look after you until you're better again, second Young Master, just say the word and I—"
"Lan Zhan."
Lan Wangji feels his brother's fingers twitch against his knee.
"What?"
"Not—not Lan-er-gongzi," Lan Wangji wheezes. "You may call me Lan Zhan."
Wei Wuxian beams at him with tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. "You're not angry?"
"No."
His eyes fall shut again, provoking a sound of utter desolation from Wei Wuxian. "Here, I'll take that ribbon off," Wei Wuxian says soothingly, his rough hands stroking Lan Wangji's hot forehead. "Your ears are burning up. You'll feel better as soon as it's gone."
At the foot of the bed, Lan Xichen makes a choking sound: but Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to care.
"Mm," Lan Wangji sighs, smiling. "Thank you, Young Master Wei."
do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets
her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.
remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.
With the latest crap of someone making an unofficial ao3 app and actually charging people to use it… why do you want an ao3 app so badly? Why are you willing to pay for an otherwise free website that works fine in mobile browsers? I’m so confused. Like, y’all are willing to have that as a security risk? And pay for it? I don’t understand at all. I saw people on the OTW’s recent post about it arguing for the existence of this app instead of against it.
Also, the whole thing is just so shady. There’s someone out there making money off of tons of people’s free work. Not cool, guys. Not cool. Don’t support the app.
What really did my head in - most of the people on the OTW's post arguing for the existence of the app were saying that the app has features that AO3 doesn't have, and then naming features that AO3 already fucking has.
The two main ones: downloading fics for offline reading and having fics read to you like an audiobook.
I don't have personal experience with either of these features, these are not things I use - but I have known for years that you can download fics for offline reading. It's easy. If you have a long commute or a one time trip, or even if you're worried that AO3 is gonna go down in the middle of you reading a long fic - download it. (But please, make sure to go back to the online version and leave the author a comment telling them that their fic was enjoyable and worth downloading.)
As for the audiobook thing - many browsers have 'text to speech' screenreaders that are meant as a disability accessibility tool, and I can't imagine that the app is paying people to actually read out fics - they're just using one of these. Other than that - do the kids not know about Podfics???
People make 'audiobooks' of fics and post them on AO3. Actual, live readings of fics that they post on AO3. And sometimes it's just a fic they admire and wanna make a reading of, not even their own fic that they wrote. If you have a favourite pairing or a favourite tag, go onto that tag and search up 'podfic'. You will find the audiobook style that you are looking for.
You don't need any AO3 app. All it will bring is paywalling and censorship. If you want to give AO3 money, and you have extra money to give- donate to a real donation drive. (And you can actually get benefits from it). Authors don't post their fics on AO3 for them to be paywalled by a scamming 3rd party.
I don't think any protagonist can ever top Wei 'Yiling Laozu' Wuxian. No one is doing it like him. He is an icon. He can shoot arrows blindfolded. He is a prankster. He falls for a boy and decides immediately that he must have said boy's attention on him at all time. He is necromancer exacting his vengeance. He is just three years old. He is a flirt. He has his first kiss in his twenties. He does not remember your name. He does remember that one song his crush sang to him in a cave when he was injured and feverish. He is a sunshine boy. He survived the hell of hells. He died and was unhappily brought back to life. He's the bizarre genius, the miraculous hero, the force of the rebellion, the flower that blooms alone. He walks the single plank bridge alone. He is the awesome gay uncle who knows everything. He is a pretty boy. He is the most moral, steadfast person you know. He is just a man throwing flowers to his love. He rips his hard won talent out to repay a debt that never was. He is a sister's boy. He is an abuse survivor. He is an urban legend. He is one of the most handsome men of his time. He has so much trauma. He plants children like radishes. He threw the arrow he was shot with from a rooftop and killed someone. He is a talented musician. He is a scheming fox. He can drink you under the table. He is so fucking tired of this bullshit. He has probably long since burned his tastebuds with the spice he puts in his food. He is broke. He kisses skeletons on their hands in gratitude. He confesses his deep, abiding love in the middle of being held hostage. He attempts the impossible and succeeding. He is an untamed hero, standing against a world condemning innocent. He is everything.
Any good zeb and Kallus fics that you’d recommend?
Oh boy, where to start... I have so many! Because of this, I am going to start by rec'ing one of my favorite AU's --the coffeeshop AU.
Be My Satellite - by bar2d2s
~very poignant and sweet, and as far as I can tell, the first Kalluzeb coffee-shop AU tagged on AO3
Soy Triple Berry Passion Tea with Extra Vanilla - by Sempaiko (me)
~shameless self-plugging, but I can't help it. I love this AU so much I definitely had to write for it... twice
Communication is Key - by Eien-Ni
~a lovely gift in the same universe as my fic. The boys have a little misunderstanding.
Street Corner Coffee Shop - by whiplashcrash
~another inspired story, where Alex finally opens up his own shop and stops working for Sheevbucks!
Lothal Moonlight - by HixyStix
~where do I start with this wonderful, amazing, entertaining fic? This is everything you could want in a coffee-shop AU and more! This fic has it all and is such an enjoyable read.
There are many many more Kalluzeb fics I can rec, and I'll throw a few more below for the heck of it, but I thought it would be nice to see coffeeshop AU get a little lovin' (since it is my very favorite AU).
This is not a comprehensive list, just what has come at the top of my head. Of course there are many many others by some of my favorite authors of all time that aren't here, but here is just a few:
at me too someone is looking ~ read it. Just... read it.
What Happens in Nar Shaddaa ~ the first Kalluzeb fic I ever read
Anthropological Poetry ~ the sweetest explicit fic you will ever read
What We Want ~ I dunno why but I just love this fic
HixyStix rec's (honestly anything she writes, but here are the highlights that first come to mind):
A Safe Haven, Lost & Found, Luck Charm, The Jedi and His Ranger, Pale Moonlight, Mine Be Thy Love, If the Galaxy was Ending
the “bad guys” in hallmark movies end up always being the most respectful men ever.
because they will find out their girlfriend of 3 years (that they were about to propose to) went off to a random farm in minnesota, hours away from were the two of them built a life together, and she decided to just… stay there without even consulting him.
and then he decides to take a trip to make sure she’s okay, because this is generally alarming behavior, and then sees that she literally fell in love with her ex within one (1) week- and he wasn’t there, but you can TELL that they’ve made out a couple times.
and then she just strings him along for a few days, until fucking christmas eve, when she just breaks up with him and is like “i know we used to have the same values, but i’ve never loved you. mark makes me happier than you ever did. and you ONLY care about work, whereas i like christmas and fun, like a Good Person.”
and then, after finding out his entire relationship was a lie and he had his life turned upside down in a week and he got dumped on christmas, this guy’s just like “ok yeah that makes sense. i only wish you the best of happiness with mark. i hope you guys build a great life together in christmastreefarmville. thank you for everything.”
An AU where two Hallmark Christmas Bad Guys are both getting flights back to New York after being dumped by their respective Smalltown Blonde Girlfriends, and they bond over their shared experiences and fall in love in the departures lounge
Probably he is still in shock. Right? He looks out of his taxi window (it's not technically a taxi, just some guy named Corey who offered him a ride to the airport, because Uber doesn't operate in fucking Tinyville, Bumfuck Middle-Of-Nowhere, Utah) and tracks water droplets racing each other down the glass, because of course it's raining, and his bad knee is killing him.
Levi sniffs and rubs at his eyes and then pulls out his phone and books a ticket back to New York, wincing as four hundred and twenty-six dollars are deducted from his bank account.
And, like, he should definitely be more upset.
He just got broken up with. He was engaged, for God's sake. A four-year relationship… over. Just like that.
Corey says, "Ten minutes to the station."
Probably he'll be more upset once he's home. When he starts packing up Anika's stuff into boxes so she can come collect them after New Year's. He'll have to do all that processing and he'll put away all the pictures that are up and probably he'll remember all the good times they had together and flashes of their relationship will play out in slow motion in his mind. Like a movie montage.
Levi catches his reflection in the passenger side window and starts, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. He hadn't even noticed he'd started biting the nail.
Corey drops him off at the train station and he books a ticket to Salt Lake City and Levi wants to tip him for the ride but when he turns back the car's gone, and it's started snowing again.
He re-wraps his scarf so it covers his ears and turns back. He has to jog—ow ow ow—to catch his train.
Once arrived at the airport, Levi's gotten over being baffled and has started being mildly pissed.
You're obsessed with work, Anika told him. You barely make time for us anymore. Yeah, he'd had to pull some long hours for the last few months, but for good reason—he'd been working towards a huge promotion and a raise and he thought she'd be happy for him.
He'd gotten the promotion, by the way. Editor in chief. He'd tried calling her first, a whole bunch of times, and then she hadn't picked up, so he'd decided Well, fuck it, and flew out to Doodootown, Utah to break the news himself.
He thought it would be nice. Spend the few remaining days before Christmas with Anika and her family in their hometown, then flying back home for Christmas and New Year's and starting 2023 off with renewed vigour and excitement.
Then, of course, Anika told him that she wouldn't be flying back with him for Christmas. Or at all.
Which, well. Okay.
She didn't even congratulate him.
He checks in, and the lady at the desk asks him whether he wants to drop off his carry-on luggage for free, since the plane is very full, and Levi shrugs and says okay and watches his suitcase disappear behind black rubber flaps.
His flight leaves in four hours.
Levi decides to pay the extra fee so he can stay in the fancy lounge, because he thinks he probably deserves that at this point. It's quiet here, though, so he orders a tea and claims a table over by the window, stretching out his right leg with a contented sigh.
There's an empty table in front of him, but at the next one sits a man who looks so miserable it's impressive.
The man is slouched in his chair, dark hair mussed and suit a little ruffled. The cuffs of his slacks are damp, and so are his knees. He's leaning his head against the window, eyes closed, holding a bloody tissue to his nose. A purple bruise is starting to form on his cheekbone.
Levi stares.
Damn. And he thought he was having a rough day.
Should he say something? Probably not, right. Like, that would be weird, right?
Then he notices the small, black velvet ring box the man is fiddling with and it's like all the air's punched right out of his lungs.
Damn.
Levi looks down and takes a sip of his tea, then hisses and curses under his breath because it's still way too hot and he's an idiot.
When he looks up again, the man is eyeing him with mild amusement.
And there are a hundred thousand ways that Levi could have handled the situation, but before he can think about ways to not embarrass himself further he hears himself say, "Ouch. Haha."
Somebody please shoot him.
The man raises an eyebrow. Levi gives an awkward cough, then takes another sip of tea and somehow feels betrayed when it burns his tongue again.
"Maybe you should give it a second," the man says.
"Maybe," Levi says, "I should." His ears are burning.
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas plays over the speakers.
Levi desperately wants to ask about the ring box. And the bloody nose. And whether there's a correlation. But then again it is so definitely not his business, so he just stares down at his tea and watches steam rise.
There's a sharp sigh from across the table. "She said no."
Levi's head snaps up, ready to defend himself, because it's not like he actually asked, but then the guy looks so tired and bitter that he immediately deflates and feels both like an asshole and an idiot.
"I'm sorry," he offers, which still feels lame but better than whatever he had going on before.
The guy gives a wry smile. "Gonna, you know. Return this. She, uh, said no to the whole relationship. So."
Ah.
"I'm sorry," he says, running a hand over his face, "I don't mean to dump all this on you."
"Oh, no, it's okay," Levi says quickly, and then before he can think about it too much, he adds, "I get it."
The other guy looks immediately doubtful.
Levi bites the inside of his cheek. "Four years," he says with a shrug. "Engaged and everything." He gives a thumbs down and blows a raspberry.
"Aw, shit, dude," he says, sitting up straight. He removes the tissue from his face, and seeing as he's no longer bleeding, stuffs it in his pocket. "That sucks."
Levi shrugs again, suddenly weirdly self-conscious. He traces the rim of his teacup with a finger. "Yeah, well. I didn't get beat up about it." There's a moment of silence, then he sneaks another glance. "Levi, by the way."
A corner of the guy's mouth twitches. "Xavier Ortega."
Levi gives a half-hearted salute. "Fuckin', enchanté. Or whatever."
Again, Xavier almost smiles. Levi thinks—Levi thinks he'd like to see Xavier smile. Properly.
And then he thinks, What.
No, he's just—Xavier just looks like he could do with a cheer-up. That's it. And, well, so could he, really. They're both in similar boats. Although it looks like Xavier got the shorter end of the straw here, Levi thinks, considering his ruined suit and, you know, face. Still a nice face, though. Symmetrical. Strong cheekbones. Dark eyebrows over dark eyes and a straight nose and—whatever.
Whatever.
He just got broken up with.
God, why's he trying to justify this to himself? Why is he feeling weird about this? He's not even gay. And even if he—even if he was, it's not gay to acknowledge that a guy is good-looking.
But, like, it's fine. He's not—whatever.
Xavier has a split lip, he notices now that the tissue's not hiding half his face. "Got you good, huh?"
Xavier rolls his eyes. He looks away for a moment, hesitating, then stands up and pulls the chair from the table between them, spinning it around and flopping back down at Levi's table.
Levi thinks he must look quite surprised, because Xavier says, "I mean, this is easier for conversation purposes. Unless you're fine with the yelling across tables situation—"
"No, no," Levi protests. "No, you're right, this is—easier." He clears his throat and says, "So, what was her name?" before mentally kicking himself, but Xavier just looks at him weird.
"Well, her name is Chloe. We just broke up, she didn't die."
Levi nods, puckering his lips. Right, yeah. Yes. "Is she… nice?"
"Well, she cheated on me."
"Ha," Levi says with no humour. "Samesies."
Xavier lets out a dry chuckle at this, then rubs at his eyes. "Wow. Happy Christmas to us, right?"
Levi raises his teacup and gives a ghost toast. "Merry Christmas to us." He downs his tea, which is at a palatable temperature now, then says, "Do you want a drink?"
-
So Chloe and Xavier had been together for almost five years. The whole story is… disturbingly similar to Levi's whole deal, actually. Chloe decides, two weeks before Christmas, to take a trip back to her hometown, gets pissed when Xavier can't just take ten days off work to come with her, goes anyway on her sister's advice, meets up with her childhood nemesis who turns out not to be so bad after all and also cleaned up unfair nice, and then when Xavier went after her because hey, she hadn't been answering his texts and he was planning to pop the question over the holidays, she decided to dump him.
"She looked me in the face," Xavier says, head in hands, "and told me she was happier there than she'd ever been with me." He looks up and runs his fingers through his hair. "And I mean, sure, we'd had our rough patches, but, you know. We were gonna work it out."
Levi hums. "Yeah, no. I get it."
"So I said, Are you fucking serious right now, and I guess I raised my voice a bit, and then Mr Goddamn Farm Guy comes storming out and squares up to me and I don't even know who this dude is, and I tell him to get out of my face, and he fucking decks me. Like, completely unprompted."
"Rough," Levi says solemnly.
"Yeah," Xavier says, exasperated. "And he didn't even apologise."
Levi whistles low. It's quiet for a moment while they both nurse their drinks, then Xavier vaguely gestures at him and says, "So what's your Christmas Tragedy?"
Levi gives a lopsided grin. "Well. Anika goes home to Middle Of Nowhere, Utah, 'cause she said she wasn't feeling great. Wants me to go with her, I can't 'cause I'm pulling long hours for an upcoming promotion, she's pissed. When she gets back there she rekindles things with her ex—"
"Augh," Xavier says. "Brutal."
"—and last I heard the plan was for them to start a combination bakery and tearoom together. So." Levi grits his teeth. "Hope that works out for them."
Xavier looks at him over his glass, then, after a moment of careful silence, says, "You're allowed to be mad at her, you know."
"Fuck her," Levi says immediately. "Like, seriously. Why even get engaged to me if she was so miserable? Just break up with me instead of, fuckin', cheating, and then acting like I'm insane for going to check on her after she just ignores all my calls and texts and goddamn emails. We were going to get married in February, for fuck's sake. Fuck her." He presses the palms of his hands against his eyes til he sees stars.
There it is. The upset. Figures that it's the saying it out loud that really drives home how betrayed Levi feels. Especially when he's talking to someone whom he doesn't have to explain it to, because Xavier gets it. Xavier gets it better than anyone ever will, probably.
It's not quite the movie montage Levi had been preparing for. Rather, what Levi remembers now are all the moments that Anika said things that cut, or did things that bruised. How she'd roll her eyes when Levi got so excited he got the wiggles. How she refused to entertain the idea of getting a dog, even after he begged. How she'd get annoyed with him when his knee acted up and told him to suck it up and stop being such a crybaby. How she'd give him the cold shoulder when she was upset with him and he couldn't read her mind about it and let it build until she exploded out of nowhere.
Little things that didn't seem like such a big deal in the time, but that added up to something like a balm for the sharp sting of betrayal.
Because that's what it is, at its core. That's why Levi is angry.
More betrayal than heartbreak.
And even though it will hurt for a while still, there's something that tastes oddly like relief at the centre of his chest, cool and welcome like a breeze on a suffocating July afternoon.
Xavier stays silent. After a moment Levi blinks hard and opens his eyes and finds Xavier looking at him strangely.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "Fuck 'em."
Levi's stomach squeezes.
He glances wildly around, trying to find anything to look at that isn't Xavier's face, and settles for the screen hanging from the ceiling that displays flight information.
"Oh, look at that," he says. "I should get to my gate."
"Right," Xavier agrees quickly. "Yeah, of course, so should I." He picks up his leather briefcase. "Where are you going, by the way?"
Levi laughs. "How wild would it be if we were on the same flight, huh?" He stands up and winces, ignoring Xavier's questioning look. "New York City. The 9:15. You?"
They make their way over to gate B9 mostly in silence, a general air of What the fuck is happening hanging between them. Not quite uncomfortable, but definitely baffled.
"So this is weird, right," Levi says, dropping into a boarding zone chair. "Like, really weird."
"Right," Xavier says softly. Then, eyes trained on the huge Christmas tree and determinedly not looking at Levi, he adds, "Cool, though."
Levi is—Levi is a little speechless. "Yeah." He feels kind of floaty. He can't stop looking at Xavier's ears, because the tips have gone red. "Yeah. Pretty cool."
God. Fuck.
-
Their seats aren't next to each other, because that would have been crossing the line from freaky coincidence into absolutely fucking insane, but Levi pulls some strings and switches seats with the nice lady who’s next to Xavier, because it’s an exit row seat with more leg room and he has a bad knee. He tries not to look too pleased with himself as he sits down.
Xavier gives him a look. “So do you actually have a bad knee, or…”
Levi slaps a scandalised hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing. You think I’d lie about being disabled?”
“I don’t know you that well.”
“And here I thought we had something.” Levi sighs. “I broke my kneecap when I was a teenager. Never healed right.”
“Ah. Sports? Don’t tell me you were a football kid.”
Levi doesn’t know why he feels suddenly bashful. He always feels kind of stupid telling people how he got his injury; the reactions usually range somewhere between mild disapproval and straight up judgment. “Uh, no. Parkour. Actually.”
Xavier’s eyebrows vanish into his hairline.
After a moment of questioning silence, Levi shrugs. “I misjudged the distance between ledges. Fractured my kneecap. But I was stupid and an idiot, also, so I didn’t wait for it to fully heal before going back out, and now I am a human weather antennae.”
“Huh.” Levi would say Xavier looks almost impressed. Mostly sort of exasperated, though. “You know what, now that you say it, I feel like that checks out.”
Levi narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, maybe you look like the type who would break his kneecap doing parkour.”
“And what kind of type is that?” Levi is halfway to miffed and sort of offended, but then Xavier grins wide and he forgets to be annoyed.
“You tell me.”
It sounds too much like an invitation to be a coincidence.
Levi can’t remember the last time he spent so many hours talking uninterrupted. Or, well, talking to someone who was actually listening to him and actively engaging in conversation. Someone who was interested in him.
Levi can’t remember the last time he enjoyed talking to someone this much.
He cracks a joke that makes Xavier laugh softly, and the noise goes straight through his spinal cord like an electric shock, and then it becomes a game, a challenge, trying to make Xavier laugh like that again.
Xavier shows him pictures of his dog, a wonderfully fluffy brown-and-grey mutt named Captain, and Levi thinks he might actually pass away over how cute he is.
“I always wanted a dog,” he says after cooing over a picture of Captain showing his belly for ten minutes. “Like, really bad. I want a dog so bad. But Anika doesn’t, so it never happened.”
“Well,” Xavier says loftily, “Nothing’s stopping you now, is there?”
That is an excellent point. Levi tells him so.
Then he starts thinking about how nice it will be to have the apartment to himself for a while, and then he feels guilty for being relieved about it, about Anika not being there, and then he ponders how weird it’ll be to be alone for Christmas.
Levi's never been alone for Christmas before.
His family lives in Alberta, and he can't really afford another short notice round flight, and anyway the plan this year had been just him and Anika, and they'd had a reservation for brunch on Christmas day, and Levi thinks he should probably cancel that, and that's just a fucking bummer.
After a moment of thinky silence, Levi quietly asks, "What are you gonna do for Christmas?"
Xavier blows out a long breath. "I don't know. I think I'll try to see my sisters. They live a state over, though, and it's all very last minute, I—we—were supposed to spend it at Chloe's, and I'm not big on Christmas celebrations myself, you know, my family's culturally Jewish, so… I'm not sure."
Most of the rest of the flight is quiet, and a little sad, but also nice, and when the seatbelt light flicks on and the crew announces the imminent descent Levi can't help but feel a pang of disappointment.
The plane lands. Impatience in the cabin spikes; everyone wants to get home, it's the holidays, it's cold. Levi gets up and winces, catches Xavier's eye as he reaches for his bag and hands it to him.
Xavier is gonna call a cab. Levi is as well.
They're standing outside.
Levi shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Well," Xavier says.
"Right."
"It was nice meeting you, Levi. The circumstances were… less than ideal, maybe, but…"
Levi looks at him. A purple bruise is blossoming on his cheekbone, crawling up around his eye. The tip of his nose is red from the cold. His eyes are dark but if he pays very close attention he can tell where the iris ends and the pupil begins.
And okay. Okay.
He might be a little gay.
"But nice," he whispers.
Xavier smiles, looks down. Is it—would it be totally weird to ask for his number?
But then Xavier's cab is there, and he tips an imaginary hat at Levi before turning away. He hands the driver his luggage.
The sharp stab of panic between his ribs takes Levi totally by surprise. As does the fact that when he blinks he's closed the distance between him and the cab and is holding onto the door.
Xavier looks at him, eyebrows raised.
Levi didn't plan this far ahead, or at all. He blinks, feeling rather sheepish, then when Xavier's eyebrows start disappearing into his hairline he blusters, all at once, "So I have a brunch reservation. On Christmas Day. I was, you know, supposed to go with Anika, but, you know. And it would suck to have to cancel. And it doesn't have to be weird, or anything, we're just two guys being dudes, getting brunch." He snaps his mouth shut, absolutely horrified. What the fuck was that?
Xavier's mouth parts a little.
God. Shitballs. Fuck. Abort. "But that would be weird, right? You know what, never mind, it's fine, forget I said anything, it's—"
"Levi," Xavier says, exasperated. He covers his face with his hands. Then he says, muffled, "Yeah, okay. That sounds nice. I'd like that."
Oh.
"Are you—are you sure?"
He must sound really incredulous, because Xavier snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Slowly, Levi grins. "Okay."
"Okay." They stand there for a moment, and then Xavier's eyes go wide and he says, "Wait, I should—hold on." He digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, hesitates, then pulls out a small rectangular object and holds it out.
Levi's grin goes lopsided. "Xavier Ortega. Are you handing me your business card right now?"
To his credit, Xavier looks away sheepishly. "My phone number's on there."
Levi accepts the card, hoping passionately that Xavier doesn't notice his hand is shaking. "Okay. I'll text you, then."
"Okay," Xavier says. Then, tentatively, "See you soon, then?"
Levi takes a deep breath and steps back, cheeks burning, and probably not just because of the bite of winter chill. Something in his stomach twinges, and he says, "Yeah. See you soon."
Had a dream this morning that Archive of our Own had a Random button which would simply take you to a random fanfic, like Wikipedia has. (AO3 does not appear to really have this, I checked and couldn't find one, but I kinda wish they did.) Someone had started a game where whatever fic you got, that was your new fandom, which is very fun! I would love this meme in real life.
The problem came in where so many people used the button that it broke and just started sending everyone to Stealing Harry, and like...I have fond memories of Stealing Harry but it's not my best work and nobody should be assigned to be a Harry Potter fan in this day and age.
So I decide to go off and find Astolat and demand she fix this but when I finally did (there was a whole quest) she turned to me like the baddie in a horror flick and said, "But that's the most random story there is" in a dark voice and I was terrified and woke up.
In the cold light of day I know there are more random stories by me on the archive, let alone by others, but I'm not going to try to get back there to argue my case. Pretty sure whatever I spoke to was actually the demon specifically assigned to plague fandom and not Astolat at all.
I'd say "get thee behind me, demon" but I know just how many porny fics on AO3 begin with that premise. (I've written some.) Begone foul spirit, and take your Satanic Panic with you!
This made me laugh so hard - of all the things a sleeping mind can offer up as entertainment, poor Copperbadge was visited by a demonic Astolat impersonator.
I wanted that Ao3 random button though.
SO I MADE ONE
It's a generator that produces a link to a random work page on AO3, using a number generator in the link.
Fair warning, it turns up 404 errors pretty often, because many works have been deleted. Keep clicking, you'll get something eventually.
Also, this is literally any work on AO3, so remember the back button and browse responsibly.
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