Fifteen hundred years and the sound of Wei Wuxian's voice has never faded from Lan Wangji's mind. He recalls the sound of it during their arguments, the huskiness when Wei Wuxian was flirting, the sounds of his moans in their marital bed, and the annoyance in it when he was angry or upset. He remembers the way it shook when he was unhappy, the creak of age as Wei Wuxian lived his final days.
Above all, he remembers the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter. After all these years, encountering Wei Wuxian in dozens of different bodies, the sound of his laughter in that first lifetime is still treasured. It's become the sound of joy in his mind, after all these years, carrying with it the familiar ache of longing and the reminder that he'd had Wei Wuxian, all those years ago. And, the gods willing, gets him again.
It doesn't always happen; sometimes, he can't find Wei Wuxian. Sometimes the distance is too great. He's had to travel to find him, the words on his arm a different language. Sometimes, and it nearly breaks him, the time between rebirths is long, like this. It's been a hundred years since he last saw his soulmate.
(His words never fade: the words, those first memorable words just below his heart are a solid black. The rest line the length of his arm, the penmanship of the writing always appearing rushed, hurried, as though his soulmate had too much energy to control his hand adequately. He sticks to long sleeves to avoid stares at the sheer number of soul marks he has.)
Fifteen hundred years and Lan Wangji would recognize the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter in the middle of a crowd or the middle of nowhere, whether happy or bitter or mocking. It's not a sound he actually hears; none of the reincarnations of Wei Ying have had the same voice, the same vibrancy as he did that first lifetime.
He's passing a park when it happens. Wei Wuxian laughs.
Lan Wangji stops in the middle of the sidewalk, gold eyes going wide as he looks over the scattering of people around him, trying to spot the owner of that voice. It's his laughter; there's no other sound like it.
Someone bumps into him, a rare occurrence, and he steps to the side, frantically looking around, only to notice the swing set and the lithe figure sitting on one of them. It's a small park, clearly meant for children, but it's late enough that there are no children around. He hops the fence separating the park from the sidewalk— there's a gate nearby but he doesn't care about that— approaching the familiar figure on the swing.
It's only then that he looks closer at the man. Lan Wangji's eyes widen and his breath catches, staring at this man who looks a modern version of the man he knew in ancient Gusu. Dark, touseled hair, grey eyes, a lithe build that's still familiar to him. "Wei Ying?"
Normally, he tries to approach without memories of the past lingering on his lips or in his eyes and finds a way to make conversation. (He's had fifteen hundred years on this earth, and though he prefers his books and his solitude over company, some measure of small talk is necessary.) But when faced with such a beloved, familiar face, it's hard to remember something like manners.
Fifteen hundred years was a long time to wait for someone. There was, at one point, a time that he'd said that to his husband. To the only light in the darkness that liked to envelop him. The statement had been met with a look that could only be described as... well, it couldn't be described. Though, he'd been told never to say it again. How Lan Zhan would wait forever for him. Another thing that was a long time.
Throughout the times that he'd been reincarnated, he'd followed the beautiful sound of a dizi. Not ahis dizi. Chenqing liked to lul him out of whatever thoughts that ran through his mind, which were hardly any, until he found the flute. There were odd places that he'd found it. Sometimes in the most obvious places. Other times... he had to stow away on something just to get to it. Chenqing's music always stopped the moment his hands wrapped around it.
This time around he'd found Chenqing in some old abandoned house. One that he'd looked into, finding out that no one had lived there. It wasn't much, but he'd managed to fix it up. Even if he'd had to jump through hoops because 'Who are you?' was a factor to people. They'd been painful hoops to jump.
He'd decided, for some unknown reason, to head out to the park. To sit in the dark on the swings and play chenqing. He'd stopped only moments before, the beautiful intricate flute laid in his lap, as he reached up to tie his long hair back in a red ribbon. Except that mid tie he hears a voice and nearly drops the flute at the same time, grey eyes looking up into gold.
The man before him looked familiar, but Lan Zhan should know by now, after fifteen hundred years, that it takes Wei Ying a few moments to remember anything. The man in white would have to be patient a bit longer.
"Seat's empty."
He doesn't normally offer strangers to sit near him. Only ones that do are the friends that he'd made, but somehow this felt right. Even if, for the moment, he didn't know why.
It's not the first time he wasn't recognized right away, so the lack of recognition is nothing new, doesn't even twist his heart like it had the first few times he met a reincarnation of Wei Ying. At least this time he has Chenqing already.
He steps closer, nodding at Wei Ying. He's almost tempted to reach out and catch the flute, or otherwise move it from where it's tucked between his legs, now clenched together; it can't be comfortable. But that would be invasive, and he doesn't want to invade Wei Ying's space without any warning, especially before he recalls anything about his past.
"I am Lan Zhan," he says, settling into the swing next to him. Lan Zhan isn't the name he generally uses, preferring to keep the distance of his courtesy name, but Wei Ying has always been different. He's always been Lan Zhan to Wei Ying. "You are?"
Those eyes watch the other even as he finishes tying his hair up into the red ribbon. Once done he reaches down and grabs Chenqing twirling the flute in his fingers as he swings a little. Though, he does give a bit of a smile at the man's name. He liked the sound of that. Even if he wasn't entirely sure why just yet.
"Wei Ying. What drags you out this late at night, Lan Zhan?" He asks a hint of amusement in his tone. Memories or not, he was still a bit of a shameless flirt. "Especially when it's out in my dark ass neck of the woods."
Normally strangers didn't really come this far out. Not when they figured it was the bad part of town. Which wasn't to say they were wrong, it was. This part of town were known for quite a few things but it was still home to him.
The hint of amusement makes Lan Wangji's lip twitch in the faintest smile, although it quickly disappears again, and he studies Wei Ying. The flirting is familiar and fun, and soothing to the parts of him that have spent too much time missing his husband.
"An evening walk," he responds. "It is good for digestion." Not that he really needs to worry about that but it's a good reason, one he's learned people accept. "I prefer to walk in quieter areas."
Even after all these years, he prefers silence and space and tends to avoid crowds when he can. It's not even common for him to linger in bigger cities, outside of the occasional business meeting or taking care of anything supernatural.
There was something about the other man that he couldn't quite place. That faint barely there smile and then it was gone. Like he was afraid to do so. Was that a thing? Had something happened to make that a thing? It had his mind going in a million different directions, and probably not good ones.
"Good for digestion? First I've heard that one," he tells him with a faint smile of his own. Though, the mention of quiet areas he shakes his head. "I am not a quiet person and neither is Chenqing. You kind of picked the wrong spot."
Those eyes look around the area for a moment before back at the stranger before him," It's home. Not exactly the best part of town, but it's home. And out here in the park with my flute? I can quiet my mind whenever things become too much."
"No," Lan Zhan says, eyes fond as he examines Wei Ying. "Exactly the right spot."
So Wei Ying doesn't recognize him; not unusual, especially at first, and something he can work with. He'll let Wei Ying initiate touch, for now, if he wants. "Chenqing?" His eyes drop to the flute in his hands. "A good name for an instrument."
It always seemed to find its way back to Wei Ying, too. Much like Lan Zhan. "Does it quiet your mind?"
"You just said you liked quiet spots. This spot? Not quiet. Much less around me, someone who could talk your ear off for hours at a time until you told me to shut up or go away. And, like I said there's Chenqing too," he points out.
He looks down at the flute in his hand before back towards Lan Zhan," You think so? Kind of found her one day. More like we found each other, I guess. That probably sounds stupid to you, and now I'm rambling."
As for that question, he frowns," Sometimes, but not always. Nine times out of ten? It feels like something is missing. I just haven't figured out what yet, and it gives me a headache trying to figure it out."
He reaches out and brushes a bit of hair out of Lan Zhan's face, fingers brushing lightly over skin," You're beautiful, you know that? And now I sound like a creep. I shouldn't have touched you, I'm sorry." Yeah, he was just going to pull his hand away and hope this beautiful man didn't call the cops.
"I like quiet spots," he agrees. "But this spot is better." Because it has Wei Ying but he doesn't add that; it would be creepy and inappropriate.
"It does not sound stupid. Instruments have a way of calling to their owners." Especially Chenqing, who always finds her way back to Wei Ying. He listens quietly to Wei Ying, knowing some of what's missing, although he prefers Wei Ying to discover that on his own, rather than have his memories forcibly shoved back into him.
Still, when he reaches out and touches him, Lan Zhan clasps his hand around Wei Ying's before he can withdraw. "It's fine. I do not mind you touching me." His long fingers curl around Wei Ying's hand, and he squeezes it lightly. "You can touch me whenever you want."
A lot of what Lan Zhan is telling him about how instruments call to their owners goes in one ear and out the other. This was a complete and total straighter who was not letting go of his hand. One that was telling him he didn't mind being touched. That he could touch him whenever he wanted. Who did that kind of thing?
Those grey eyes look towards golden before at the hand that was lightly squeezing his own. He wants to ask why. Wants to find out what in the world was going through this stranger's head, except that there were words nagging at the edge of his mind and slipping through the cracks.
Everyday means everyday
He's pretty sure those three words are even in this man's voice. We're sure that Lan Zhan notices it the moment it happens. It doesn't, however, mean that the other gets a chance to brace himself against the fierce tackle or the fall from the swings. The man above him kissing him hard, no care in the world.
If Chenqing ended up somewhere in the sand, well... he'd get her later. "Lan Zhan..." It comes out a bit breathless even as he kisses him again, nipping his bottom lip. "I've missed you, you beautiful man." Forget the fact that he's probably just managed to hurt them both by tackling his husband off the swings, but the pain was not a factor at the moment.
There's a flicker of recognition in those beloved grey eyes, eyes that Lan Zhan has been hunting for over generations, falling in love with them anew each and every time. But it happens quickly: one moment Lan Zhan is holding his hand— something he tries not to do too often, in the beginning, just to give Wei Ying breathing room— and then he's tackled to the ground, slipping out of the swing with the weight and force of Wei Ying, in his arms.
There's sand beneath him, getting into his hair and his clothes and he can't find it in him to care one whit; the fall should hurt, although it doesn't, both because his core heals any injury within seconds and because he has Wei Ying in his arms. He can ignore much more than a small fall from a playground swing into some sand as long as he has Wei Ying.
"Wei Ying," he says against his lips, his hands wrapping around Wei Ying's waist, holding him close. "A much better spot." It is the best spot, the best park: it's the one with Wei Ying. "And you can touch me as often as you want."
The sand, itself, was inconsequential in the moment. What was? The man beneath him. That beautiful man with the golden eyes that shined. Okay, so maybe that was just him being silly. He loved Lan Zhan's eyes. They were beautiful to him. His husband was the most handsome, most beautiful, creature to ever grace the Earth.
He loves the feel of those hands wrapping around him. The way that the other held him close. "Mm. I would have to agree. A much better spot." His husband had graced that spot with his presence. There's a bit of a cheshire cat grin out of Wei Ying at his husband's words, though.
"Oh, I plan to touch you a lot and often, Lan Zhan," he says brushing his thumbs along the other's cheeks before kissing him again. "What took you so long?"
They should get up but Lan Zhan has no desire to move since he once again has Wei Ying in his arms, right where he belongs.
"Mm. As I said, better than the quiet spots." He savors the grin and the glow in his grey eyes and the brightness of his voice. It's been far too long since he's heard or seen his husband, and he wants to savor it, much like how he savors the kiss.
"Wei Ying," he says when they break apart from the kiss. "I am sorry." For taking so long, that is. "I was living elsewhere, and looking for you there. Nothing seemed to call me."
They really should get up. Chenqing was off in the sand somewhere. Which meant that the ghost flute would need to be deep cleaned once they got home. Wherever home was for Lan Zhan. He didn't know where the other called home, exactly.
Another kiss and that smile just brightens more. "I'm glad that you found the spot. Even if I thought you were some creepy guy at first. Though, I guess I was creepy too." Now? He's just rambling a bit.
He nips his bottom lip," What called you here, Lan Zhan?"
"Wei Ying." Was it an answer to what called him there or the rambling or both? Lan Zhan wasn't even sure, but it was an answer enough. He kisses him, then, keeping his arms tight around his husband, sits up.
"I have missed you, my love." He's torn between letting go of Wei Ying to stand up or continuing to hold him like this, although after a minute, getting out of the sand wins out. He'll be able to hold Wei Ying again soon enough. So he untangles himself from Wei Ying, standing up, and holding his hand out for his husband.
"I am staying in a temporary apartment. Would you care to join there?"
Wei Ying isn't sure if that's an answer to what called his husband to him, or if he's being admonished for all the rambling. It could mean a million different things when his husband says his name. Though, he merely kisses him back, giving a soft sound into it.
"I've missed you too," he whispers against his lips, despite the fact that they were sitting up now. He didn't want to let go of Lan Zhan. That would make for a very grumpy... well, him.
There's a mock pout out of him when his husband untangles himself from him. Though, he takes that hand and stands up before brushing himself off. Now? Where the hell did that ghost flute go?
"I can join you or you can join me? I do have a permanent place around here."
He's careful to brush the sand off his pants and back, shaking out his hair as well, although Lan Zhan knows there will be sand he'll find much later in awkward spots. It doesn't matter, now that he has Wei Ying.
Noticing Wei Ying looking around, he joins in the hunt for Chenqing, finding it half-buried in the sand a few feet away and picking it up to hand to his husband. It doesn't shock or sting, and instead feels warm and comfortable in his hands. He passes it over to Wei Ying.
Wei Ying is used to being out here in the park. Used to getting sand practically everywhere. He does, however, make sure to brush himself off this time. Even if sand was still going to end up tracked into the apartment anyway. Unfortunately, that was probably going to be something that couldn't be avoided.
He looks over to where the other was and notices Lan Zhan with Chenqing. Funny how, at one point, the ghost flute would've shocked or stung anyone who wasn't him. Back then it hadn't mattered who was or wasn't close to him. He takes the flute and gives his husband a bit of a smile.
"Yes, I know you're upset." This was more to the flute as he turns it to shake the sand out of it. Then to his husband he gives a warm smile," Come on then. Though, do we need to head back to your temporary place to get you clothes?"
It's been long enough now that Chenqing doesn't shock him; sometimes, Lan Zhan thinks, he can feel the tendrils of energy curling around him. And it's often what calls to him, or at least to his guqin, after all these years. It's still better to see it in Wei Ying's hands than it is in his, and he hands it back over easily.
"No," he tells Wei Ying. "I will arrange for my things to be brought over, it will be simple enough." No, he wants to get Wei Ying inside, where they can talk comfortably, and it's not like he has much here in the city. Just his suitcase and a courier can bring that to him. He holds out his hand for Wei Ying to take. "Please, show me your apartment."
Once the sand is out of Chenqing, he twirls the ghost flute for a moment. It was always a familiar weight in his hands, as was the energy that came off of it. One shouldn't be used to resentful energy but he was. Though, he can't help but smile a little when the other half of his soul just says that things could be arranged. That things could be brought to them.
He interlaces their fingers together and gives his husband a smile, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Follow me then, Lan Zhan. Try to keep up," he teases, keeping a hold of that hand, guiding him through the park toward the streets. Luckily, he didn't live that far, but there were people that he didn't like that sometimes got in his way. Hopefully they'd have no troubles tonight.
"I always will," Lan Zhan says, squeezing his hand. And he does, especially since Wei Ying isn't actually running. It might not be the exact words, but Lan Zhan has always promised to keep up with Wei Ying, to follow him where he goes, and find him when he disappears. It's been a habit for centuries.
He doesn't intend to stop now.
The street isn't very crowded, although Lan Zhan immediately notices the small group of people lingering in the shadows of one of the alleys, talking and laughing, but clearly watchful. It's not something that concerns him, but he's always somewhat cautious— much easier to avoid conflict than display his strength.
"Always is a long time, Lan Zhan," he teases. It was a tease that he'd been giving his husband for as long as he could remember. "Though, I believe it was every day means every day. Or maybe my mind is skewered more than I thought," he states with a bit of a grumble. "Or, you know, don't go where I can't follow. Something."
He leans his head on his husband's shoulder and notices where his eyes had gone. "They're not so bad. Next street over is the ones that are a hassle," he whispers close to his ear. It might even sound obvious that Wei Ying has dealt with them a time or two.
"Every day is every day." He smirks as he says that, remembering what happened during that conversation and what inspired. "While I would prefer you do not go where I cannot follow, I will always find you." He'd move everything to find Wei Ying, if needed, and Wei Ying always returned to him.
While he has absolutely every confidence in Wei Ying and his ability to handle groups of fools, his arm still tightens around his hand, and he draws Wei Ying closer, sliding his arm around his waist.
"We've missed a lot of every days, Lan Zhan. How're you going to make that up?" He teases. Though, he probably shouldn't tease his husband in that manner. Not when it could get him in trouble, or stuck in bed for... a very long time, due to not being able to move. "I know you'd find me."
He leans in and kisses his cheek, tone teasing," My hero. Saving me from the ruffians."
"I can think of ways," he reassures Wei Ying, knowing full well how he can make it up to his husband. It involves spending time in bed, and not letting him out of bed until they're both thoroughly sated. And now that Wei Ying remembers, it is much easier to think about that.
Lan Zhan looks at him, corners of his lips lifting. "You do not need saving."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
12
Above all, he remembers the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter. After all these years, encountering Wei Wuxian in dozens of different bodies, the sound of his laughter in that first lifetime is still treasured. It's become the sound of joy in his mind, after all these years, carrying with it the familiar ache of longing and the reminder that he'd had Wei Wuxian, all those years ago. And, the gods willing, gets him again.
It doesn't always happen; sometimes, he can't find Wei Wuxian. Sometimes the distance is too great. He's had to travel to find him, the words on his arm a different language. Sometimes, and it nearly breaks him, the time between rebirths is long, like this. It's been a hundred years since he last saw his soulmate.
(His words never fade: the words, those first memorable words just below his heart are a solid black. The rest line the length of his arm, the penmanship of the writing always appearing rushed, hurried, as though his soulmate had too much energy to control his hand adequately. He sticks to long sleeves to avoid stares at the sheer number of soul marks he has.)
Fifteen hundred years and Lan Wangji would recognize the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter in the middle of a crowd or the middle of nowhere, whether happy or bitter or mocking. It's not a sound he actually hears; none of the reincarnations of Wei Ying have had the same voice, the same vibrancy as he did that first lifetime.
He's passing a park when it happens. Wei Wuxian laughs.
Lan Wangji stops in the middle of the sidewalk, gold eyes going wide as he looks over the scattering of people around him, trying to spot the owner of that voice. It's his laughter; there's no other sound like it.
Someone bumps into him, a rare occurrence, and he steps to the side, frantically looking around, only to notice the swing set and the lithe figure sitting on one of them. It's a small park, clearly meant for children, but it's late enough that there are no children around. He hops the fence separating the park from the sidewalk— there's a gate nearby but he doesn't care about that— approaching the familiar figure on the swing.
It's only then that he looks closer at the man. Lan Wangji's eyes widen and his breath catches, staring at this man who looks a modern version of the man he knew in ancient Gusu. Dark, touseled hair, grey eyes, a lithe build that's still familiar to him. "Wei Ying?"
Normally, he tries to approach without memories of the past lingering on his lips or in his eyes and finds a way to make conversation. (He's had fifteen hundred years on this earth, and though he prefers his books and his solitude over company, some measure of small talk is necessary.) But when faced with such a beloved, familiar face, it's hard to remember something like manners.
no subject
Throughout the times that he'd been reincarnated, he'd followed the beautiful sound of a dizi. Not ahis dizi. Chenqing liked to lul him out of whatever thoughts that ran through his mind, which were hardly any, until he found the flute. There were odd places that he'd found it. Sometimes in the most obvious places. Other times... he had to stow away on something just to get to it. Chenqing's music always stopped the moment his hands wrapped around it.
This time around he'd found Chenqing in some old abandoned house. One that he'd looked into, finding out that no one had lived there. It wasn't much, but he'd managed to fix it up. Even if he'd had to jump through hoops because 'Who are you?' was a factor to people. They'd been painful hoops to jump.
He'd decided, for some unknown reason, to head out to the park. To sit in the dark on the swings and play chenqing. He'd stopped only moments before, the beautiful intricate flute laid in his lap, as he reached up to tie his long hair back in a red ribbon. Except that mid tie he hears a voice and nearly drops the flute at the same time, grey eyes looking up into gold.
The man before him looked familiar, but Lan Zhan should know by now, after fifteen hundred years, that it takes Wei Ying a few moments to remember anything. The man in white would have to be patient a bit longer.
"Seat's empty."
He doesn't normally offer strangers to sit near him. Only ones that do are the friends that he'd made, but somehow this felt right. Even if, for the moment, he didn't know why.
no subject
He steps closer, nodding at Wei Ying. He's almost tempted to reach out and catch the flute, or otherwise move it from where it's tucked between his legs, now clenched together; it can't be comfortable. But that would be invasive, and he doesn't want to invade Wei Ying's space without any warning, especially before he recalls anything about his past.
"I am Lan Zhan," he says, settling into the swing next to him. Lan Zhan isn't the name he generally uses, preferring to keep the distance of his courtesy name, but Wei Ying has always been different. He's always been Lan Zhan to Wei Ying. "You are?"
no subject
"Wei Ying. What drags you out this late at night, Lan Zhan?" He asks a hint of amusement in his tone. Memories or not, he was still a bit of a shameless flirt. "Especially when it's out in my dark ass neck of the woods."
Normally strangers didn't really come this far out. Not when they figured it was the bad part of town. Which wasn't to say they were wrong, it was. This part of town were known for quite a few things but it was still home to him.
no subject
"An evening walk," he responds. "It is good for digestion." Not that he really needs to worry about that but it's a good reason, one he's learned people accept. "I prefer to walk in quieter areas."
Even after all these years, he prefers silence and space and tends to avoid crowds when he can. It's not even common for him to linger in bigger cities, outside of the occasional business meeting or taking care of anything supernatural.
"And you?"
no subject
"Good for digestion? First I've heard that one," he tells him with a faint smile of his own. Though, the mention of quiet areas he shakes his head. "I am not a quiet person and neither is Chenqing. You kind of picked the wrong spot."
Those eyes look around the area for a moment before back at the stranger before him," It's home. Not exactly the best part of town, but it's home. And out here in the park with my flute? I can quiet my mind whenever things become too much."
no subject
So Wei Ying doesn't recognize him; not unusual, especially at first, and something he can work with. He'll let Wei Ying initiate touch, for now, if he wants. "Chenqing?" His eyes drop to the flute in his hands. "A good name for an instrument."
It always seemed to find its way back to Wei Ying, too. Much like Lan Zhan. "Does it quiet your mind?"
no subject
He looks down at the flute in his hand before back towards Lan Zhan," You think so? Kind of found her one day. More like we found each other, I guess. That probably sounds stupid to you, and now I'm rambling."
As for that question, he frowns," Sometimes, but not always. Nine times out of ten? It feels like something is missing. I just haven't figured out what yet, and it gives me a headache trying to figure it out."
He reaches out and brushes a bit of hair out of Lan Zhan's face, fingers brushing lightly over skin," You're beautiful, you know that? And now I sound like a creep. I shouldn't have touched you, I'm sorry." Yeah, he was just going to pull his hand away and hope this beautiful man didn't call the cops.
no subject
"It does not sound stupid. Instruments have a way of calling to their owners." Especially Chenqing, who always finds her way back to Wei Ying. He listens quietly to Wei Ying, knowing some of what's missing, although he prefers Wei Ying to discover that on his own, rather than have his memories forcibly shoved back into him.
Still, when he reaches out and touches him, Lan Zhan clasps his hand around Wei Ying's before he can withdraw. "It's fine. I do not mind you touching me." His long fingers curl around Wei Ying's hand, and he squeezes it lightly. "You can touch me whenever you want."
no subject
A lot of what Lan Zhan is telling him about how instruments call to their owners goes in one ear and out the other. This was a complete and total straighter who was not letting go of his hand. One that was telling him he didn't mind being touched. That he could touch him whenever he wanted. Who did that kind of thing?
Those grey eyes look towards golden before at the hand that was lightly squeezing his own. He wants to ask why. Wants to find out what in the world was going through this stranger's head, except that there were words nagging at the edge of his mind and slipping through the cracks.
Everyday means everyday
He's pretty sure those three words are even in this man's voice. We're sure that Lan Zhan notices it the moment it happens. It doesn't, however, mean that the other gets a chance to brace himself against the fierce tackle or the fall from the swings. The man above him kissing him hard, no care in the world.
If Chenqing ended up somewhere in the sand, well... he'd get her later. "Lan Zhan..." It comes out a bit breathless even as he kisses him again, nipping his bottom lip. "I've missed you, you beautiful man." Forget the fact that he's probably just managed to hurt them both by tackling his husband off the swings, but the pain was not a factor at the moment.
no subject
There's sand beneath him, getting into his hair and his clothes and he can't find it in him to care one whit; the fall should hurt, although it doesn't, both because his core heals any injury within seconds and because he has Wei Ying in his arms. He can ignore much more than a small fall from a playground swing into some sand as long as he has Wei Ying.
"Wei Ying," he says against his lips, his hands wrapping around Wei Ying's waist, holding him close. "A much better spot." It is the best spot, the best park: it's the one with Wei Ying. "And you can touch me as often as you want."
no subject
He loves the feel of those hands wrapping around him. The way that the other held him close. "Mm. I would have to agree. A much better spot." His husband had graced that spot with his presence. There's a bit of a cheshire cat grin out of Wei Ying at his husband's words, though.
"Oh, I plan to touch you a lot and often, Lan Zhan," he says brushing his thumbs along the other's cheeks before kissing him again. "What took you so long?"
no subject
"Mm. As I said, better than the quiet spots." He savors the grin and the glow in his grey eyes and the brightness of his voice. It's been far too long since he's heard or seen his husband, and he wants to savor it, much like how he savors the kiss.
"Wei Ying," he says when they break apart from the kiss. "I am sorry." For taking so long, that is. "I was living elsewhere, and looking for you there. Nothing seemed to call me."
no subject
Another kiss and that smile just brightens more. "I'm glad that you found the spot. Even if I thought you were some creepy guy at first. Though, I guess I was creepy too." Now? He's just rambling a bit.
He nips his bottom lip," What called you here, Lan Zhan?"
no subject
"I have missed you, my love." He's torn between letting go of Wei Ying to stand up or continuing to hold him like this, although after a minute, getting out of the sand wins out. He'll be able to hold Wei Ying again soon enough. So he untangles himself from Wei Ying, standing up, and holding his hand out for his husband.
"I am staying in a temporary apartment. Would you care to join there?"
no subject
"I've missed you too," he whispers against his lips, despite the fact that they were sitting up now. He didn't want to let go of Lan Zhan. That would make for a very grumpy... well, him.
There's a mock pout out of him when his husband untangles himself from him. Though, he takes that hand and stands up before brushing himself off. Now? Where the hell did that ghost flute go?
"I can join you or you can join me? I do have a permanent place around here."
no subject
Noticing Wei Ying looking around, he joins in the hunt for Chenqing, finding it half-buried in the sand a few feet away and picking it up to hand to his husband. It doesn't shock or sting, and instead feels warm and comfortable in his hands. He passes it over to Wei Ying.
"I can join you."
no subject
He looks over to where the other was and notices Lan Zhan with Chenqing. Funny how, at one point, the ghost flute would've shocked or stung anyone who wasn't him. Back then it hadn't mattered who was or wasn't close to him. He takes the flute and gives his husband a bit of a smile.
"Yes, I know you're upset." This was more to the flute as he turns it to shake the sand out of it. Then to his husband he gives a warm smile," Come on then. Though, do we need to head back to your temporary place to get you clothes?"
no subject
"No," he tells Wei Ying. "I will arrange for my things to be brought over, it will be simple enough." No, he wants to get Wei Ying inside, where they can talk comfortably, and it's not like he has much here in the city. Just his suitcase and a courier can bring that to him. He holds out his hand for Wei Ying to take. "Please, show me your apartment."
no subject
He interlaces their fingers together and gives his husband a smile, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Follow me then, Lan Zhan. Try to keep up," he teases, keeping a hold of that hand, guiding him through the park toward the streets. Luckily, he didn't live that far, but there were people that he didn't like that sometimes got in his way. Hopefully they'd have no troubles tonight.
no subject
He doesn't intend to stop now.
The street isn't very crowded, although Lan Zhan immediately notices the small group of people lingering in the shadows of one of the alleys, talking and laughing, but clearly watchful. It's not something that concerns him, but he's always somewhat cautious— much easier to avoid conflict than display his strength.
no subject
He leans his head on his husband's shoulder and notices where his eyes had gone. "They're not so bad. Next street over is the ones that are a hassle," he whispers close to his ear. It might even sound obvious that Wei Ying has dealt with them a time or two.
no subject
While he has absolutely every confidence in Wei Ying and his ability to handle groups of fools, his arm still tightens around his hand, and he draws Wei Ying closer, sliding his arm around his waist.
no subject
He leans in and kisses his cheek, tone teasing," My hero. Saving me from the ruffians."
no subject
Lan Zhan looks at him, corners of his lips lifting. "You do not need saving."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)