[read it on ao3]
“Lan Zhan, er-gege,” Wei Ying murmurs and a shiver goes down Lan Zhan’s back as Wei Ying comes up behind him, Wei Ying’s too warm hands on his shoulders one moment and then stroking down his arms the next, “you look so pretty.” Wei Ying’s lips are gentle as they brush the back of his neck, it takes everything Lan Zhan has not to turn around to face Wei Ying, rather than his own reflection.
“Wei Ying doesn’t think I look…” Lan Zhan doesn’t finish, but the words burn in his mind. Silly, ridiculous, unsightly, and many more that are nearly enough to make Lan Zhan flinch in Wei Ying’s arms as they wrap around his middle. It isn’t as though Lan Zhan feels uncomfortable in the dress that hangs just above his knees, nor do the thin straps against his shoulders make him feel awkward, he truly doesn’t even mind the way the light purple, nearly blue, dress sits perfectly at his waist and his hips, hugging him with nearly the same level of affection as Wei Ying.
It’s that the dress doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all that makes it feel as though a hand has wrapped itself firmly around Lan Zhan’s throat. It feels right. It feels… flattering, more flattering than slacks that never fit quite right on his hips, always either too tight or too loose.
Lan Zhan raises a hand to smooth out the front of the dress, but stops himself when he makes eye contact with Wei Ying in the mirror, the molten warmth in his eyes making Lan Zhan’s breath flutter in his chest. Does Wei Ying have the slightest clue what his eyes do to Lan Zhan? It doesn’t feel fair, but all the same, Lan Zhan feels pinned in place as Wei Ying locks their fingers together before he presses a kiss softer than anything Lan Zhan has ever imagined to the junction between his neck and shoulder. The ghost of the kiss lingers long after Wei Ying has moved downwards, kissing the swell of Lan Zhan’s shoulder and then back up again.
“I think that dress was made just for you, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s voice is quiet, something only meant for Lan Zhan to hear, “I don’t think it would look half as good on anyone else.” Wei Ying’s free hand is moving, dragging up the front of the dress slowly, until he can rest it against Lan Zhan’s chest, his thumb pressing against the hollow of Lan Zhan’s throat. “What do you think of it?”
The question makes Lan Zhan swallow, the muscles of his throat working against Wei Ying’s thumb. He’d made the mistake of letting Wei Ying catch him admiring the dress in a store window, but he’d still denied it when Wei Ying asked if he wanted to go in and try it on. He hadn’t expected Wei Ying to buy it for him, he hadn’t even expected Wei Ying to be able to guess his size so perfectly. Carefully, with his own free hand, Lan Zhan smooths the dress out again, watching himself instead of Wei Ying and letting himself be caught unaware when Wei Ying noses his hair out of the way to kiss him just underneath one ear.
“I like it,” Lan Zhan hears himself murmur quietly, his hand finding Wei Ying’s arm and holding onto it, squeezing tight, “like it very much.” Lan Zhan can be honest about that much, especially with Wei Ying. There would have been a time, when they were younger, where he would have dug his heels in and refused, he would’ve even called Wei Ying ridiculous before walking away from him, only to think about Wei Ying, his kindness, and the dress for hours and hours on end afterward. His cheeks would have burned in secret whenever he dared to let himself think about it, and they burn now, too, but the pink of them is tempered by Wei Ying’s own warmth.
“I got you something else,” Wei Ying says, though he makes no move to peel himself off of Lan Zhan’s back, if anything, he burrows deeper in, his eyelashes tickling the back of Lan Zhan’s neck, “it was just in case you didn’t want the dress, but I want you to have both, Lan Zhan.”
“Even if I did not like the dress, I would still want it as long as it was from Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan keeps the explanation simple, allowing his eyes to sharpen for just a second as he watches their reflections again. Even if he hadn’t seen it, he could still feel Wei Ying’s grin against the back of his neck, and all at once, Lan Zhan wants to lean more firmly back against Wei Ying’s chest just as badly as his teeth ache to sink into Wei Ying’s arm.
Slowly, Wei Ying eases himself away from Lan Zhan’s back, though he doesn’t let him go, even as he pulls him away from the mirror, leading him over to their bed before he sits him down. The grin on his face eases into something softer as Wei Ying presses one hand to Lan Zhan’s cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth, to the corner of his mouth and over the apple of his cheek and back again right before Wei Ying walks away slowly. He keeps his back to Lan Zhan as he digs through the drawers of his desk, murmuring to himself and only glancing back at Lan Zhan once.
Lan Zhan focuses on the way his knees press together while he watches Wei Ying, the feeling of them rubbing against each other while something anxious crawls up his throat. He wants to ask, he wants to call Wei Ying back to him, but Wei Ying is closing a drawer too loudly before he can, the soft smile on his face giving way to a triumphant grin as he holds a light blue box with a white ribbon to his chest. He tries his best to keep Lan Zhan from seeing it. Lan Zhan does his best to pretend as though he hadn’t been trying to see.
The bed bounces as Wei Ying all but hops onto it, making Lan Zhan lean into him before he settles; Lan Zhan makes no attempt to right himself. For all the effort Wei Ying went into keeping it hidden from Lan Zhan, he’s all too eager to thrust the box into Lan Zhan’s hands.
“I got it from the jewelry store Huan-ge told us about, but I did the engraving myself.” Wei Ying chatters, excited before Lan Zhan has even had the chance to pull the ribbon free. An answer sticks itself inside of Lan Zhan’s throat, but Wei Ying is still watching him, his hand landing on Lan Zhan’s bare knee while he waits. It would be cruel to hold off anymore, but Lan Zhan still takes just a moment to run his thumb over the ribbon, the feeling of it cool to the touch, the exact opposite of Wei Ying’s hand on him. The two sensations should be unpleasant, but how could anything from Wei Ying be even the slightest bit unpleasant?
Lan Zhan pulls the ribbon carefully and slowly, draping it across his lap rather than letting it fall onto the bed or the floor before he opens the box. A locket, oval in shape and adorned with the etchings of two rabbits chasing after each other in an unending circle lays heavy against soft, blue velvet.
“Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan breathes out, the words nearly inaudible. He raises two careful fingers to brush against the rabbits. How long had this taken Wei Ying? How many hours had he spent straining his eyes to create such small but delicate engravings onto a locket like this?
Wei Ying’s fingers are gentle as they brush against Lan Zhan’s wrist. They don’t form a full circle, but it hardly matters as Wei Ying’s lips press against Lan Zhan’s temple and then his cheek. “Even if you didn’t like or want the dress after all… I still wanted you to have something you’d like, Lan Zhan.” There’s a quiet kind of carefulness in Wei Ying’s voice, the kind that Lan Zhan can’t ignore or look away from, his heart twisting in his chest as he finally looks away from the locket, the design burned into his eyes, but disappearing the second he looks into Wei Ying’s eyes.
“More than like it,” Lan Zhan says, his own voice turning rough and desperate, his hand coming to catch Wei Ying’s cheek now and the rest of his body turning towards him. Lan Zhan means to make Wei Ying understand, even if his words fail him by tangling in his throat and refusing to come out. He doesn’t stop himself from kissing Wei Ying with all the force of the words he can’t make himself say, with the whole of his love that threatens to burn him from the inside out. The two of them tip over easily, sliding off of the bed and onto the floor, but Wei Ying does everything he can to take the brunt of the fall, his arms wrapping tight around Lan Zhan all over again.
It takes such little effort for Lan Zhan to settle his weight over Wei Ying, his legs spread wide over Wei Ying’s hips. The length of the dress is enough to keep him decent, not that Lan Zhan can be bothered to care for a moment longer. His arms wrap around Wei Ying’s neck and he presses his face against Wei Ying’s chest, ears straining to hear a heartbeat that thunders just like his own.
Like a cat purring into a sunbeam, Wei Ying’s heartbeat settles anything rough or frayed in Lan Zhan, nerves settling into something perfectly peaceful and still. The fact that Wei Ying can put him into such a trance should alarm him, it should scare him, it used to. He never wanted to be so entirely wrapped up in another person before Wei Ying, and now he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Lan Zhan doesn’t need to look at his own reflection to know that his eyes have gone dull and soft with satisfaction and relief.
By the time Lan Zhan comes back to himself, Wei Ying’s fingers are already threaded through his hair and his arm is thrown tight across his back. Lan Zhan only sits up because he wants to look at Wei Ying, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing a kiss to Wei Ying’s palm as it slides out of his hair and onto his cheek.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying’s voice is just as soft and molten as his eyes, “I got it wrong earlier, Lan Zhan. You’re beautiful.”
“Wei Ying is beautiful.” Lan Zhan answers, it’s not an argument, merely a fact. Carefully, Lan Zhan leans himself down again, the length of his hair falling over one shoulder like night falling over the world. Wei Ying’s thumb strokes over his lower lip before he lets Lan Zhan kiss him. Lan Zhan doesn’t even think of biting at that thumb until afterwards. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan starts, but Wei Ying only shakes his head, his smile glowing like moonlight.
“No thank yous between us, Lan Zhan. That’s your rule.” Wei Ying thinks he’s caught Lan Zhan out, but Lan Zhan only shakes his head, one hand pressed against Wei Ying’s chest while the other still holds tight onto the locket in its box.
“It is not thank you that I want to say,” Lan Zhan says slowly, his hand working slowly back and forth over Wei Ying’s chest. He does want to say thank you, but he knows better, instead, Lan Zhan leans down and murmurs three words against Wei Ying’s ear, words that he knows Wei Ying would never refuse.
When he sits back, Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying’s face deepens in color, his mouth working wordlessly like a fish pulled from the water before they catch up to him all at once. “Lan Zhan! You!”
If he weren’t sitting on top of Wei Ying, Lan Zhan is almost sure he would’ve been tackled to the ground by now. That’s why he refuses to move when Wei Ying tries his best to sit up, his hands catching Wei Ying’s wrists to keep him down.
But Lan Zhan isn’t cruel, he brushes the same kind of kiss that Wei Ying had given him earlier against his forehead, the corners of his lips tipping upwards against Wei Ying’s struggles.
