Chapter Text
The moment that Meng Yao sits down in the coffee shop near their work, Jin Zixuan says, “I need you to do something for me.”
Meng Yao hasn’t even had the chance to take a sip of his sugary iced coffee. He’s walking blindly into this conversation with no preparation for the oncoming headache. Never mind that he has a mountain of paperwork waiting for him back at his desk. Never mind that he has a meeting this afternoon with their father. Never mind that their father will once again insist that it’s absolutely fine for Meng Yao to illegally forge legal documentation to pressure the Meishan Yu business group into selling a number of their prime investments to the Lanling Jin portfolio.
While Meng Yao considers himself an expert forger- he didn’t support himself through law school by selling essays for nothing- he knows the instant any governing body starts sniffing around, his father is going to use him as the scapegoat. Meng Yao is pretty good at talking himself out of trouble, but he’d prefer to keep the stakes a bit lower than jail time.
And Nie Mingjue would never forgive you, an annoying voice in the back of his head speaks up, before Meng Yao has the chance to stomp it down and shove it into a coffin buried deep beneath the earth.
It doesn’t matter what Nie Mingjue thinks of him anymore. They’ve been broken up for three and a half years. They haven’t had hate sex in nearly nine months. They’re both in competition for the affections of their mutual best friend, Lan Xichen.
So, fuck Nie Mingjue.
Usually, Meng Yao tries not to think about Nie Mingjue at all because it sours his mood for the rest of the day. It certainly sours it now, which is probably not what Jin Zixuan wants, considering he’s sitting on the other side of the table with wide, pleading eyes looking like he’s about to offer up his beloved dog in exchange for this favor.
So Meng Yao will hear him out. Even though this conversation with Jin Zixuan is most likely going to result in a headache.
Every conversation with his half-brother is a headache-inducing conversation, Meng Yao thinks, but only because trying to endure small talk- blessed, beloved small talk that Meng Yao has perfected- with Jin Zixuan is so awkward that Meng Yao would rather he were having teeth pulled.
He pointedly takes a long sip of his drink and sets it down on the table, folding his hands in his lap politely, just to make Jin Zixuan squirm. When he starts getting too fidgety, Meng Yao finally asks, “Yes, what can I help you with?”
“You don’t have to do the fake customer service smile with me,” his brother says, shooting Meng Yao a disconcerted look when he widens his smile and makes his eyes go about 10% more murderous, enough that even oblivious Zixuan will notice. He crinkles his nose. “Dude, stop. It’s creepy.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Meng Yao knows his dimples are showing. He knows he’s adorable, even with the dead eyes. It makes old ladies want to pinch his cheeks and makes him appear demure and subservient enough that people will sign the contracts he writes without reading them. “This is how I smile at people who put a meeting on my busy calendar marked ‘URGENT’ with no less than six exclamation points, and then drag me to a coffee shop to ask favors of me.”
“I bought your coffee,” Jin Zixuan points out, gesturing at the drink in question.
It is because Jin Zixuan paid that Meng Yao had upgraded to a large, rather than his normal medium, despite the fact that his brother never notices Meng Yao’s subtle pettiness. But Meng Yao thinks that he deserves a lifetime of the golden child of the Jin family buying him coffee with Jin money after all he’s suffered at the hands of their family, actually.
He only feels a little bad about it because he knows that this is Jin Zixuan’s genuine and clumsy effort to repair their strained relationship from their teenage years.
The first years had been bad, after Meng Yao’s mother had died and family services had approached Jin Guangshan about the whereabouts of his son at an event that was too public for him to sweep it under the rug and silently send Meng Yao into foster care.
Based on the six months Meng Yao had spent in foster care, he assumes his father was approached in such a public manner because he had been avoiding their phone calls and turning them away from his office. He remembers that time in foster care even less fondly than when he had finally shown up at his father’s penthouse apartment, eager to be accepted by the man his mother had spun so many wonderful stories about, and had promptly been shoved into a bedroom in the servant’s quarters and told to stay out of sight.
He’d made it a week before Madame Jin slapped him for the first time. He’d made it nearly a month before his father kicked him down several flights of stairs after he dared to sneak out of his room to steal some food from Jin Zixuan’s sixteenth birthday party.
It had been Meng Yao’s sixteenth birthday, too, but everyone likes to forget that detail.
Jin Zixuan had been given an expensive sports car and more money and clothes than Meng Yao had ever seen in his lifetime, and Meng Yao had been given a week long hospital stay and a dislocated shoulder.
Jin Zixuan, spoiled and obsessed with the idea of his own status, had turned a blind eye to everything happening.
He ignored Meng Yao at their elitist private school, where Meng Yao was outcast because he was new, and everyone else at the school had grown up together. Jin Zixuan ignored it when their horrible cousin, Jin Zixun, started hurling slurs at Meng Yao left and right because he decided Meng Yao was too small and too pretty to not like boys.
Meng Yao had only come to terms with that fact himself a few months prior, when he was hidden in the back of the crowd at one of the school’s swim meets, hoping to catch a few glimpses of the beautiful senior teaching assistant for his advanced literature seminar. Standing on his tiptoes to peer over at the swimmers behind the blocks, it occurred to Meng Yao that perhaps his fantasies of embracing a wet Lan Xichen after he won his race were more than idle daydreams to help him get through boring lectures.
Jin Zixuan ignored every moment of the suffering Meng Yao was subjected to, content to live in his bubble of privilege, and Meng Yao hated him for it.
At twenty-five, he’s old enough now to admit that, at the time, it had been easier to hate his spoiled brother than the disappointing father he had been raised to revere.
His relationship with his brother has improved in recent years, especially since they both started working for their father’s company- Meng Yao in the legal department and Jin Zixuan upstairs shadowing their father, the CEO. In part, it’s due to the fact that Zixuan actually bothers to pay attention to Meng Yao now.
Whether this change is because Jin Zixuan has finally internalized, after years of watching their father’s treatment of Meng Yao, that he is not a threat to the Jin heir’s inheritance, or whether this is because Jin Zixuan has actually achieved the ability to think critically after a few years out of his parent’s household, Meng Yao can’t say.
It’s most likely Jiang Yanli’s influence. She’s such a good person, she’s even turning his brother into someone that’s tolerable to be around.
Meng Yao takes another long sip of his coffee. Sweet. Vanilla and extra caramel. His teeth are going to feel disgusting after this. Perfect.
“Are you going to actually ask the favor?” Meng Yao asks, using a spoon to scoop some of the whipped cream off the top of his drink. Prim, proper, and polite.
“My parents bought a house in The Hamptons,” Jin Zixuan announces, in that awkward way of his, after fiddling with the lid of his coffee cup for far too long. He blushes. “For me and Jiang Yanli, actually.”
Meng Yao raises his eyebrows at this news. Typical. A sizable cut is taken out of Meng Yao’s paychecks to pay his father back for law school, but they’ll drop millions of dollars on a house so their legitimate son can impress a girl.
“I wasn’t aware the two of you were dating. Last I heard, you were pining after her and overanalyzing every text she sends you.”
Meng Yao knows about this, of course, because in Jin Zixuan’s effort to bond as brothers, he has taken to appearing in Meng Yao’s office at all times of the day to shove a phone in his face and ask ‘what did she mean?’ and ‘what should I say back?’
Meng Yao has even stopped purposefully sabotaging his brother’s texts for his own amusement. It was getting a bit too pathetic. He doesn’t try to help really, but he doesn’t not help anymore.
Truthfully, he thinks Jiang Yanli deserves better after how Jin Zixuan spoke about her in high school, but perhaps she sees the level of effort that Jin Zixuan has put into bettering himself and his relationships with others in recent years. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just… awkward and entitled. Difficult to be around, at times.
“We aren’t dating,” Jin Zixuan snaps, in the exact same tone of voice he used to say that phrase in high school, when people teased him about his rumored arranged marriage with the eldest Jiang daughter. It’s no wonder so many people still think he doesn’t like her, when he says things like that.
“Why the house, then?”
“To invite her to it. To spend time together.” Jin Zixuan groans. “I don’t know. You know that dinner our families had together a few weeks ago?” Meng Yao nods. He does remember this dinner, seeing as he wasn’t invited. Illegitimate son, and all. “Right, well Jiang Yanli mentioned how she missed swimming in the lakes at Lotus Pier over summers, so I said something about how we should visit a lake sometime, thinking I’d invite her paddle boarding upstate or something…” He sighs, wincing. “And then my mom gave me a deed to a house this week, so uh… yeah.”
It’s funny that Jin Zixuan thinks he’d ever work up the nerve to actually invite her paddle boarding. He’d probably make Meng Yao type out and send the text for him.
“Congratulations on your house,” Meng Yao says, only letting about half of the bitterness he feels leak into his tone. “I’m still not sure why you need my help.”
“I need you to come, too,” Jin Zixuan blurts out.
Meng Yao takes another long sip of his drink, letting his brother reflect on how ridiculous that request is before Meng Yao repeats it out loud for the world to hear. Sometimes, Jin Zixuan just needs the more asshole-adjacent things he says to be repeated back to him, so he can hear how it came across wrong.
“Let me get this straight…” Meng Yao speaks patiently, the smile painted back on his face. “You want me to accompany you and the girl that you’re trying to date to The Hamptons…” Jin Zixuan nods at him, which means he’s still not hearing it and Meng Yao can get a bit meaner in his approach. “Why? This isn’t the eighteenth century. You don’t need me to chaperone so I can protect you from catching an immodest view of her ankles. You were on the swim team. I presume you’ve seen a woman in a swimsuit before.”
Jin Zixuan rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t understand. She’s not going to come unless I invite her brothers and they agree to come along, too.”
Famously, Jiang Yanli’s brothers can’t stand Jin Zixuan. One of them punched him and nearly got expelled, back in high school, and Meng Yao had taken wicked pleasure in it.
“I am not well acquainted with either Jiang Cheng or Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao carefully states.
It’s only sort of a lie. He’s acquainted with them, simply by nature of them being two of Nie Huaisang’s best friends, and Nie Huaisang is (embarrassingly) Meng Yao’s closest friend, despite the fact that his older brother is Meng Yao’s ex-boyfriend and that relationship ended… less than poorly.
Meng Yao knows Wei Wuxian better than Jiang Cheng because, sometimes, Wei Wuxian will tag along when Huaisang and Meng Yao go out to drink on the weekends (provided that Meng Yao isn’t drowning in paperwork and forced to work, which he frequently is).
Wei Wuxian is fine. Loud, shameless, and has horrible taste in music, alcohol, food, and clothing. But fine. And mostly harmless.
More importantly, he’s a key step in Meng Yao’s long-term plan to date and marry Lan Xichen.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen’s younger brother have been embarrassingly circling each other since high school. If Meng Yao can remain on friendly terms with Wei Wuxian, then Wei Wuxian will talk kindly about Meng Yao in Lan Xichen’s presence, and that will hopefully counteract all the horrible things that Nie Mingjue is telling Lan Xichen behind Meng Yao’s back, in a bid to win Lan Xichen’s affections for himself.
It’s hard, being at war with your ex-boyfriend for the affections of your mutual best friend that you’re both desperately in love with. It requires a lot of plotting, and Meng Yao has less and less free time for that now that his father has remembered that he exists and is good at finding legal loopholes.
“It’s not about Jiang Cheng or Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan insists. “Wei Wuxian will come if Lan Wangji comes-” this fact is true, because Wei Wuxian is obsessed with Lan Wangji, “-but Lan Wangji will only come if Lan Xichen comes, because Lan Wangji is all uptight about stuff like that, right?”
Meng Yao nods. This is an accurate assessment of the situation thus far.
Zixuan continues, “And Jiang Cheng will come if Nie Huaisang comes, and Nie Huaisang will come if you come, but Nie Mingjue isn’t going to let Nie Huaisang come unless he’s allowed to tag along, too.”
“Nie Mingjue won’t want to be there, if I’m there.” Meng Yao raises his brows, pointing out the fatal flaw in his brother’s logic.
Because Nie Mingjue won’t let Nie Huaisang go by himself- not after Nie Huaisang had to be rushed to the emergency room for slipping and falling off a yacht at some party last summer. Nie Huaisang had broken his ankle and milked it for months. Meng Yao is half-convinced he planned it somehow and never actually fell at all.
“Nie Mingjue will be there because Lan Xichen is there,” Jin Zixuan counters, and he’s right, even if it makes Meng Yao want to grind his teeth in anger. Quieter, Jin Zixuan adds, “And I don’t think he hates you as much as you think he does.”
Evidently, Jin Zixuan has not been present for the screaming matches Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue have gotten into, on the rare occasions when their paths have crossed. They usually fuck about it afterwards, but Meng Yao is trying to resist that particular temptation now that he has his sights fully set on Lan Xichen.
Meng Yao snorts. “So the favor you’re asking of me is to spend- how long exactly?”
“A week.”
“-A week with my ex-boyfriend who hates me and is determined to steal the man I love out from underneath me?”
Jin Zixuan has the decency to pause for a moment, at least, before he manages to find a backbone and nod, “Yes. A-Yao, don’t you see? You’re the, uh- um… what’s that thing they put at the top of an arch to hold it in place?”
Meng Yao pinches the bridge of his nose. “The keystone.”
“Yes!” Jin Zixuan snaps. “You’re the keystone! If you don’t agree to go, then no one is going to agree to go, and then Jiang Yanli won’t go, and then I’ll never be able to tell her how I feel.”
“Are you actually planning to do that on this trip?” Meng Yao glances up, still applying pressure to the bridge of his nose to hold off the headache that is threatening to surface. Even his large drink of nothing but sugar and caffeine are helpless in the face of how dire this situation is.
“It’s only a week.” Jin Zixuan smiles softly. “You’ll get to spend time with Lan Xichen.”
“And so will Nie Mingjue.”
Jin Zixuan- horrible brother that he is- has the audacity to laugh at Meng Yao. “He won’t kill you… Probably.”
“Probably,” Meng Yao scoffs, reaching out for another long sip of his drink. It’s not as sweet, now that it has been tainted by the mention of Nie Mingjue.
Jin Zixuan reaches across the table, his hand curling around Meng Yao’s wrist, and Meng Yao has to snap his mouth shut to keep it from falling open in shock.
“Please, didi?” Jin Zixuan asks.
As spoiled and arrogant as Jin Zixuan is, something in Meng Yao shifts slightly to the left at the plea.
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, shaking off his brother’s touch. Meng Yao is only three hours younger, though his birth certificate technically lists him as six hours younger, because of time zones. He eyes his brother critically. “Fine. I’ll go.”
When Jin Zixuan pulls Meng Yao into an awkward hug on their way out of the coffee shop and thanks him profusely, Meng Yao stiffens, but manages to give his brother a quick pat on the back.
—----------------
Somehow (through carefully skilled planning), Meng Yao is riding in the car with the Lan brothers on the way to Jin Zixuan’s new house in The Hamptons. Nie Mingjue is in a car that is hopefully far, far away from them with Nie Huaisang, if they’ve even managed to leave yet, because Nie Huaisang refuses to get his driver’s license and learn to drive himself.
The circumstances are still less than ideal because Meng Yao is in the back seat, with sub-optimal viewing of Lan Xichen’s beautiful side profile. Although he has no particular fondness nor apathy towards Lan Wangji, it felt cruel to condemn him and his long legs to the discomfort of the back seat just for the sake of gawking at his older brother. And offering to sit in the back had made Meng Yao appear polite in front of Lan Xichen, which is always a bonus.
Even with his partially obscured view, Meng Yao has no complaints. Lan Xichen is wearing a lovely pale blue linen shirt that highlights his broad shoulders, and his long hair is down, cascading like strands of black ink. It’s a wonderful view. Meng Yao wants to kiss him gently, and then ride him until Meng Yao’s legs give out.
Oh, and Wei Wuxian is here, too.
He called Lan Wangji five minutes into their pleasantly silent drive, claiming Jiang Cheng refused to be in the same car as him after Wei Wuxian showed him a preview of his road trip playlist. And, of course, all it took was a quiet “Wei Ying says he needs a ride,” from Lan Wangji, and Lan Xichen was pulling a u-turn that was nearly illegal to turn around and go pick Wei Wuxian up.
The drive is decidedly less quiet now. And despite Meng Yao’s best efforts, Wei Wuxian has been allowed access to the sound system.
Lan Wangji at least has enough common sense left in his lovestruck brain to recognize the horrors that would befall them all if they actually allowed Wei Wuxian’s phone to connect to the car’s bluetooth. Instead, he is allowed to make requests that Lan Wangji is playing off his own phone, in between lovely renditions of classical music that Meng Yao can’t enjoy or discuss with Lan Xichen because Wei Wuxian insists on talking over them.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian leans forward in his seat to poke at Lan Wangji.
Meng Yao had originally selected the seat behind the passenger seat so that he would have better access to watching Lan Xichen as he drives, but his view is now completely obscured by one Wei Wuxian.
“Mn.” Lan Wangji answers and Meng Yao resists the urge to kick the back of his seat for continually giving in to Wei Wuxian’s desperate bids for his attention.
“Have you seen Shrek, Lan Zhan? That’s the movie this song is from.” With no response from Lan Wangji, as most of their conversations seem to go, Wei Wuxian continues chattering, “It’s really good! Why am I even asking? I know you haven’t seen it.” He pokes Lan Wangji’s cheek. “Too green and too animated for your tastes.”
It’s not too animated for his tastes. Wei Wuxian is evidently unaware of the Studio Ghibli movie marathon series that the Lan brothers have been enjoying together during their Thursday night dinners.
Meng Yao has to fight the smug grin off his face- that he knows something about Lan Xichen that the only other man in the world as obsessed with a Lan as he is, doesn’t know. He also knows the only reason Lan Xichen got Lan Wangji to start watching the movies with him was by subjecting him to Studio Ghibli soundtracks for months, until Lan Wangji expressed interest in seeing the movies that accompanied such beautiful music.
That had been Meng Yao’s idea. He tries not to beam too hard with pride when he thinks of how well Lan Xichen executed it.
After belting out the chorus of All Star by Smash Mouth at the top of his lungs, Wei Wuxian leans forward again and his whining resumes, “Lan Zhan, you never told me if you’ve seen Shrek or not!”
“What’s a Shrek?” Lan Wangji asks, and based on the sparkle in Lan Xichen’s eye and the way he’s fighting to hold back his laughter, Lan Wangji is absolutely at least aware of the concept of Shrek.
Meng Yao’s not entirely sure why that thought unnerves him.
Wei Wuxian curls over on himself with laughter, “What’s a Shrek? Oh, Lan Zhan, you kill me! Why does no one think you’re funny? You’re the funniest person I’ve ever met.” He wipes tears out of his eyes and falls back into his seat. “Yao-ge, you’ve seen Shrek right?” Meng Yao nods, and is thankfully spared further attention from Wei Wuxian. “Xichen-ge, have you seen it?
Meng Yao is struck, at once, by the realization that Lan Xichen must not ever, ever be allowed to watch Shrek.
It’s the perfect amount of humor, with a heartwarming message that will have Lan Xichen crying by the end of it, questioning why the world is so cruel to those outcast by society. He will then spend the next several months repeating bad Shrek jokes and asking earnestly, “is that a meme?” and Meng Yao will be subjected to his sad, beautiful eyes every time he’s forced to explain Lan Xichen’s fundamental misunderstanding of what a meme is.
“I have not had the fortune of seeing it yet,” Lan Xichen says. He doesn’t say the silent part out loud- those kinds of movies had been forbidden in their house as they grew up.
Meng Yao is fairly certain all movies, with the exception of educational documentaries, were banned in the Lan household. Lan Xichen is doing his best to acquaint himself with pop culture, and has been dragging his brother along with him, even though Lan Wangji is fairly close-minded to anything new that doesn’t involve melancholic classical music or Wei Ying.
“That’s a shame, Xichen-ge, I think you’d love it.” Unfortunately, even a broken clock is right twice a day. “You would too, Lan Zhan. Everyone loves Shrek!”
“Mn.” Lan Wangji eloquently adds to the conversation, which Meng Yao interprets to mean ‘I’ll watch whatever you ask me to watch, Wei Ying.’
Wei Wuxian allows the remainder of the song to finish and for the next classical piece to start before his chattering resumes. He snaps his fingers, a sign for some horrible idea that he’s just come up with, “Say, on the count of three, let’s all say our favorite movies, ready? One… two… three- Kung Fu Hustle!”
“I’ve enjoyed most of the movies I’ve watched,” Lan Xichen says cheerfully.
What’s worse than Lan Xichen’s non-answer is the fact that he’s not even lying. Even when Lan Xichen doesn’t like the storyline of whatever movie he’s watching, he’ll compliment the costumes, or the acting, or discuss how hard everyone must have worked to put something like that together.
It’s devastatingly endearing.
“Liking things isn’t the same as having a favorite.” Wei Wuxian leans over the seat to poke at Lan Xichen’s shoulders and Meng Yao is nearly blinded by the wave of jealousy that threatens to overtake him and drag him out to an ugly, green sea.
Meng Yao has never been someone to touch as casually and carelessly as Wei Wuxian does. No, touches from Meng Yao- a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingertips when handing something over- are carefully orchestrated affairs. And yet, Wei Wuxian is the one who gets to feel the corded swimmer’s muscles of Lan Xichen’s shoulders.
Lan Wangji gains two appreciation points in Meng Yao’s internal ranking system when he bats Wei Wuxian’s hands away and says, “Brother is driving, Wei Ying. Do not distract the driver.”
“Yeah, what are you gonna do to punish me, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian teases. “I can’t copy the rules back here like I did in high school. You’ll have to tie me up, instead!”
Meng Yao takes back all the times he’s wished for silence on this drive- it’s not worth the awkwardness that settles over the car when it becomes apparent that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are both far too interested in that idea, and both far too ashamed to admit it aloud to the other person.
Meng Yao clears his throat, and Lan Xichen shoots him a grateful look. “My favorite movie is Gone Girl.”
Wei Wuxian makes a face and raises his eyebrows almost into his hairline. “You know what…? Respect. That tracks for you. Please don’t ever frame me for murder?”
“Please,” Meng Yao scoffs. “I wouldn’t have to frame you. I’d frame someone that you know is innocent and you’d sacrifice yourself and take the blame for them.”
Wei Wuxian blinks a few times and, for the second time since he tumbled into the car and sprawled out across the back seat, the car falls silent while he processes the fact that he has been seen so transparently.
Oh, the mortifying ordeal of being known.
Meng Yao’s not sure why he’s surprised. Wei Wuxian tried to take the fall for an obviously guilty Nie Huaisang back during the essay incident that blew up Meng Yao’s relationship with Nie Mingjue. Unfortunately for Wei Wuxian and Meng Yao both, Nie Mingjue can sniff out a lie from miles away like a damn bloodhound.
Nie Huaisang could bat his eyes and feign ignorance all he wanted, and Wei Wuxian could take the blame and say he was the one that wrote it, but it wouldn’t have changed the facts.
Meng Yao did write that essay for Nie Huaisang. It had gotten Nie Huaisang a 71%, exactly as Meng Yao planned it to, and Nie Huaisang hadn’t failed English for a third time- the last time he would have been eligible to take it before the university prevented him from graduating.
In Meng Yao’s defense- it had taken him months before he finally wore down to Nie Huaisang’s pestering. He got sick of the begging eventually, and gave an egregious number, thinking Nie Huaisang would never pay it.
It had not deterred him. Nie Huaisang really, really didn’t want to write his own essays.
It had all been fine until Nie Mingjue found out about it, accused Meng Yao of being a snake and a bad influence on his brother, and threatened to inform the administrations at both Nie Huaisang’s university and Meng Yao’s law school.
Meng Yao knew, even then, that his threats to Nie Huaisang were empty.
Nie Mingjue may be brash, and hot-headed, but he’s protective of those he cares about. He would never willingly hurt Nie Huaisang and his reputation like that.
Meng Yao had been certain that Nie Mingjue would turn him in, though. He’d barely eaten or slept for weeks, too focused on making plans, and backup plans, in the case that he was kicked out of law school.
It never happened.
Meng Yao supposes that’s the last bit of kindness Nie Mingjue would ever extend towards him- that last bit of lingering affection burned away forever.
And at the cost of their relationship, it had given Meng Yao the idea to focus more on expanding his essay writing business during law school, which allowed him to quit his night job working at a convenience store so he could focus on studying.
“Lan Zhan, you never said your favorite movie,” Wei Wuxian whines, throwing himself over the center console. Half of his lanky body nearly lands in Lan Wangji’s lap.
It takes a moment, but Lan Wangji finally admits, “Howl’s Moving Castle.”
It is then that Wei Wuxian finds out about the Lan brothers Studio Ghibli marathon. There’s so little that Meng Yao gets to keep for himself anymore, and now that has been stolen from him, too.
He does get to share a secret, amused look with Lan Xichen, though. And that almost makes up for the loss.
—---------------
“Miss Jiang, let me help,” Meng Yao offers, holding his hands out so she can pass the duty of chopping vegetables over to him.
She shoots him a stern look, which seems remarkably out of place on her gentle features. “A-Yao, how many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Several, that I’ve overheard,” Lan Xichen says- beautiful traitor that he is.
The smile breaks through on Jiang Yanli’s face, sweet and soft, and she finally passes the knife off to Meng Yao with a rather insistent, “Call me Jian Yanli,” that lets him know that he will face dire consequences if he attempts to call her anything else.
Lan Xichen is laughing softly at him when Meng Yao surveys the work Yanli left him and begins to perfectly copy how she was slicing the vegetables.
Lan Wangji is in the kitchen with them because, to Meng Yao’s knowledge, cooking is one of the few things he actually enjoys in life, and also probably because Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian are attempting to make as much noise as humanly possible in the living room, where they’re playing some video game together.
Bizarrely, Jin Zixuan agreed to be their fourth player, but Meng Yao thinks that this is his attempt to ingratiate himself to Jiang Yanli’s brothers.
It’s a futile effort, Meng Yao would have warned his brother, if he would have asked. But, it’s arguably also kind of sweet of him, and Jiang Yanli seems to value effort over anything else.
Unfortunately, this does mean that only a few minutes after Meng Yao has settled himself into the kitchen, at the countertop right next to where Lan Xichen is preparing a vegetable mixture, Nie Mingjue clambors his way into the kitchen, too.
He’s kind to Jiang Yanli, in his own gruff, Nie Mingjue way. He accepts the task that’s given to him without complaint and sets up shop on the only other open counter space, next to Meng Yao.
It pisses Meng Yao off even more because Nie Mingjue is actually a good cook. Tall, ripped, and handsome. A good cook who raised his younger brother after their father died of a heart attack. A business owner who actually treats his employees with respect.
Oh, Meng Yao fucking hates Nie Mingjue.
Nie Mingjue smiles at Lan Xichen over Meng Yao’s head, asks, “A-Huan, what are you making?” and then promptly ignores every one of Meng Yao’s contributions to the conversation as Lan Xichen explains the steamed bun recipe he’s working on.
It’s disrespectful, Meng Yao tells himself. That’s why it hurts so badly. And actually, it’s actually a good thing that Nie Mingjue is ignoring him, because it means that Nie Mingjue isn’t yelling at him.
He isn’t hurt that Nie Mingjue is ignoring him!
He doesn’t care what Nie Mingjue thinks of him or whether Nie Mingjue looks at him at all, ever again.
You certainly looked at me when I was sucking your dick at Nie Huaisang’s Halloween party last year, Meng Yao wants to spit out at him, just to see that familiar hate burning in Nie Mingjue’s eyes. He’d rather that- some reaction, any reaction- than feeling so small and worthless, like he’s been shoved in another back room to be forgotten.
Meng Yao had been a little drunk and hadn’t worn those stupid hot pants Nie Huaisang gave him for nothing, and Nie Mingjue had been there- not wearing any sort of costume other than a press on mustache, that asshole- so it was just easier to piss Nie Mingjue off enough that he followed Meng Yao upstairs and fucked him about it instead of putting the effort in to find someone else.
They had talked about Lan Xichen the whole time, anyway. They had both agreed, after, that maybe it was better if they didn’t ever hook up again and focused their attentions on Lan Xichen, since they were both obviously interested in him.
Meng Yao suspects that he’ll never come harder than he did that night, on all fours with Nie Mingjue draped over his back, whispering to each other about what parts of it Lan Xichen might like, what Lan Xichen might sound like, about how ‘maybe I could finally get you to shut up, A-Yao, if you were sucking Lan Xichen’s cock? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Little thing like you stuffed so full in both ends that you can barely breathe. You’d look so pretty.’
And in the absence of Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue had just shoved three of his thick fingers in Meng Yao’s mouth, instead.
“Are any of you planning on going out on the boat with us tomorrow?” Jiang Yanli asks, after an awkward silence settles over the room.
“Mn.” Lan Wangji answers, which could either mean yes or no. Meng Yao honestly has no clue. He supposes it depends on whether Wei Ying is going or not (and he can’t imagine a world in which Wei Wuxian wouldn’t want to get day drunk on a boat).
“Someone has to make sure Nie Huaisang doesn’t slip off another boat and break his ankle.” Nie Mingjue scoffs, but it’s affectionate. His heart has such capacity for affection, when he lets it.
Meng Yao tries not to remember when he was included in that. It still feels a little bit like he’s been stabbed in the gut.
Besides, the last thing he wants to do is be out on a large body of water, in an enclosed space, for hours with Nie Mingjue, risking potential sunburn.
“What about you, Meng Yao? Lan Xichen?”
Meng Yao smiles at Jiang Yanli, looking over at her with the shoulder that’s nearest to Nie Mingjue so he’s forced to endure Meng Yao’s dimples in his line of sight. He can deny it all he wants, but Meng Yao knows he’s weak for an innocent, dimpled smile.
He came on Meng Yao’s face about it a couple times back when they were dating. And once after they broke up.
“I won’t be able to join, unfortunately. I have some work that I need to get done and it would be best to take advantage of a quiet house.”
Nie Mingjue scoffs and mutters under his breath, “Sure, you do.”
Meng Yao bristles, about to spit out a, ‘What is that supposed to mean? Why would I lie about having work to do?’ when Lan Xichen cuts in, “Oh! A-Yao, if you’ll be at the house tomorrow, I might join you. I brought a few books with me that I was looking forward to reading. And-” he leans in a little closer, gently bumping Meng Yao’s elbow with his own, a smile lighting up his beautiful face, “-I think someone will have to be here to force you to take a break for lunch.”
“Who said I was going to skip lunch?” Meng Yao teases, bumping Lan Xichen’s elbow back.
Meng Yao was absolutely going to skip lunch. Too much work. He skips lunch frequently. That’s what sugary coffee is for.
“Still can’t take care of yourself, can you?” Nie Mingjue sneers. “What work do you even have that’s so important it can’t wait? You work on fucking business contracts.”
It hurts worse to have Nie Mingjue, who always believed in his abilites and never looked down on Meng Yao for his mother’s sex work, reduce all his hard work to something that sounds so trivial. Meng Yao’s barely able to prevent the way his entire body flinches at the words.
“Now, da-ge, that’s not fair,” Lan Xichen attempts to mediate, as he always does when they fight. “A-Yao works very hard-”
“Some of us have bosses!” Meng Yao snaps back at him. “Not all of us can rely on nepotism! Some of us could actually be fired if we don’t get our work done in time.”
“Nepotism. You work for that rat bastard you call a father.” Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes. “Why are you even here, then? Why are you here if you’re so indispensable that you can’t get some other snake of a lawyer to proof-read your company’s bullshit contracts for a week?”
Through gritted teeth, Meng Yao says, “Because my brother asked me. Even you and your thick skull can understand that, can’t you?”
The silence that follows is miserable. Jiang Yanli blinks and glances between the three of them.
“A glass of wine?” she offers. “Who here wants a glass of wine?” Quieter, to herself, she adds, “I think I need a glass of wine.”
—--------------
Meng Yao wants to kill whatever idiot suggested they play Truth or Dare.
They’re a group of professionals. They’re heirs to some of the most important businesses in the country. Meng Yao has a JD! Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are both studying to get PhDs! They aren’t a group of teenagers drinking alcohol for the very first time.
But Lan Xichen had suggested it, citing that he’s never played it before, and he’s had half a glass of wine so his enthusiasm is a bit infectious.
And that is why Meng Yao cannot kill the idiot that suggested they play Truth or Dare. For Meng Yao is in love with that idiot.
Some of the chairs get pushed around the living room to make something resembling a circle. Meng Yao doesn’t help because he doesn’t have the strength for something like that, but he does watch Lan Xichen move furniture with ease.
Lan Xichen, who once told Meng Yao that he does a headstand at the end of his yoga practice every morning, after his six mile run, and Meng Yao had to figure out how to go about the rest of his life after learning that information.
If Nie Mingjue happens to walk into Meng Yao’s view lifting what looks like a very heavy chair, who can really blame Meng Yao for staring at him too? Nie Mingjue’s muscles are very impressive. He works out very hard for them. It would be ruder to look away, really.
“You’re staring,” Nie Huaisang warns him, ducking behind his fan when Meng Yao shoots an icy glare in his direction. Wide, scared doe-eyes pop up from behind the edge of the intricately painted fan a few moments later, “Are you mad at me, san-ge? Don’t be mad at me.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes, nearly as sharp as a knife. “It’s not my fault that you want to fuck my br-”
Meng Yao reaches out and slaps a hand over Nie Huaisang’s mouth, “Nie Huaisang, I will never buy you another fan as long as you live if you don’t shut up right now.”
Nie Huaisang licks his hand and pokes Meng Yao’s cheek with the tip of his fan, “Be honest with me. Why are you really mad?”
“It’s a childish game.” Meng Yao crosses his arms over his chest, aware of how childish the act might make him appear. “Teenagers use it as an excuse to find out about each other’s crushes and dare each other to kiss.”
Nie Huaisang snickers, holding his fan to the side of his mouth so it’s like he and Meng Yao are in on a secret. “Maybe we could dare your brother to finally make a move on Jiang Yanli.”
The image of a flustered, embarrassed Jin Zixuan in his mind is humorous enough that Meng Yao’s exhale is almost a laugh.
“I think it’s much more likely that she’ll make a move on him and he’ll be too blind to see it.”
Nie Huaisang sighs, loud and put-upon, his fan fluttering in front of him. “There’s only so much we can do to help him. He really is starting to seem hopeless.”
Meng Yao has commandeered a bottle of the expensive red wine that he had forced Jin Zixuan to buy for him as part of the terms of Meng Yao agreeing to come on this stupid trip. He’s not nearly drunk enough for this game, so he takes a swig and passes the bottle Nie Huaisang.
He’s always been too indulgent to Nie Huaisang. Perhaps it's because the glimpses he’s caught of the inner machinations of Nie Huaisang’s mind are far sharper than anyone believes them to be, and Meng Yao respects the work and dedication that Nie Huaisang puts in to doing absolutely fucking nothing, besides working on his art and traveling around the world to go bird watching. Perhaps it’s because Nie Huaisang somehow knows exactly what buttons to press to force Meng Yao to have fun, even when he’s wound as tightly as he is right now.
Whatever it is, it causes him to be too indulgent of Nie Huaisang, which is just another thing Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue have in common, even if Nie Mingjue desperately wants to believe in his own moral superiority.
Wei Wuxian appears out of nowhere, jumping on Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang’s backs and wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “What are you two whispering about over here? It’s time to play!”
Wei Wuxian, of course, had been one of the more vocal supporters in playing Truth or Dare.
“I don’t know what we were talking about.” Nie Huaisang waves his fan and shrugs. “I really don’t know.”
Wei Wuxian laughs. Loudly. He tips his head back and everything to do it. For all his (many) flaws, Wei Wuxian can never be accused of not being so vividly alive every moment of his life. He slaps Nie Huaisang on the back, “You’re so full of shit, Nie-xiong.”
Nie Huaisang whines and tries futilely to wriggle away from Wei Wuxian, “Da-ge, Wei Wuxian is attacking me.”
Nie Mingjue side-eyes their little group in the corner of the room. His gaze lingers the longest on Wei Wuxian, and Nie Mingjue offers him a nod of respect before going back to moving another chair.
Wei Wuxian looks a little stunned. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he whispers “wow,” as if it had slipped out of his mouth without meaning to.
Meng Yao gets it.
The hot older brother angle contributes approximately 13% of Nie Mingjue’s sex appeal. The first time Nie Mingjue whispered a ‘good boy, A-Yao’ during sex, Meng Yao came on the spot.
He thinks Lan Xichen would respond similarly. Something about Lan Xichen just screams praise kink. It’s probably all that repression from the strict household he grew up in.
Meng Yao is not thinking about Nie Mingjue saying ‘good boy, A-Huan’ to Lan Xichen as they fuck. No. Definitely not. Because the idea of that should make him feel jealous, and jealousy is definitely not what he’s feeling right now.
Intrigued, maybe? A little horny. Something to explore later.
“Wei Wuxian, get in here,” Jiang Cheng growls. “You always take forever.”
Jiang Cheng then shoots his brother a series of rapid eye movements that Meng Yao thinks means, ‘get over here so we can surround jiejie on the couch and prevent her from sitting next to the peacock.’
Meng Yao should win the best brother of the year award because he grabs a handful of the back of Wei Wuxian’s ugly black band t-shirt to prevent him from running off.
“In a moment,” he politely calls out to Jiang Cheng with a pleasant smile. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
“Fuck, Yao-ge, you’re stronger than you look.” Wei Wuxian squirms and writhes, attempting to pull away, but Meng Yao tightens his grip and keeps smiling.
Wei Wuxian’s shirt rides halfway up his chest, but thankfully gets caught in his arms before he can pull free. From one of the chairs, Lan Wangji is watching intently, until he realizes that he’s been caught and his gaze shifts to the floor, ears bright red.
The brief scuffle allows Jin Zixuan enough time to return to the living room with two drinks in hand, offer one to Jiang Yanli, and occupy the seat on the couch next to her. He shoots Meng Yao a grateful smile and Meng Yao drops his hand from Wei Wuxian’s shirt, releasing him to the wolves (aka a furious Jiang Cheng with a vein pulsing in his forehead).
There’s some shouting from Jiang Cheng and some whining by Wei Wuxian that he doesn’t get to sit next to his sister, and by the time all of that is done, everyone realizes that they’re one chair short.
“That’s okay, I can sit with Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian springs across the room to fling himself onto the arm of Lan Wangji’s chair.
As eloquently as ever, Lan Wangji states, “Mn.” His ears are still bright red.
Lan Xichen winks at his brother in a way that is extremely obvious and truly embarrassing to watch. Meng Yao loves him so much.
Once everyone is settled, Nie Huaisang explains a few of the rules- everyone has to take a turn before you can repeat, you can take a shot instead of doing the dare, if you really don’t want to do it, but you can’t get out of a truth (Meng Yao thinks this rule is just because Nie Huaisang is nosy like that).
“Alright,” Nie Huaisang finishes with a flourish. “Er-ge, you get to go first since you’re the one that wanted to play this game.”
Lan Xichen’s gaze zeros in on Meng Yao.
“A-Yao, truth or dare?”
This feels like a trap. Why does this feel like a trap? Lan Xichen isn’t scheme-y like Meng Yao is, but this reeks of a scheme.
He can’t say truth, obviously, because then he runs the risk of staring into Lan Xichen’s beautiful dark eyes and lying, if he doesn’t like the question. It’s unthinkable. Meng Yao has never, and will never, lie to Lan Xichen.
“Dar-”
“I dare you to make out with Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen says, before Meng Yao is even able to finish the word.
Lan Xichen sounds winded, like he just finished his morning run. There’s something in his eyes, too- not clouded by drunkenness but darkened by something else. Coupled with his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, the effect is devastatingly attractive.
Why couldn’t you dare me to kiss you, Lan Xichen?
“No.” Nie Mingjue spits out gruffly.
Meng Yao tries not to let that rejection sting. A cut that’s never fully healed, continually deepened.
“Da-geeeeeeeeee,” Nie Huaisang whines, throwing himself bodily at his brother before Nie Mingjue can get up and leave. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, da-ge. It’ll only be for a few minutes! And you’ve kissed san-ge before! I used to walk in on you two all the time.”
Unfortunately true. Nie Mingjue didn’t have a habit of locking his bedroom door and Nie Huaisang has always had a habit of throwing himself into a room and draping himself over a chair to complain about the woes he’s suffering, like he’s straight out of an Oscar Wilde novel.
Someone whistles under their breath. Probably Wei Wuxian.
“You can take a shot, instead,” Jiang Yanli offers, like a lifeline.
Meng Yao’s not sure why he’d rather cut the cord and remain floating helplessly at sea. Probably because Lan Xichen doesn’t appear to be paying attention to anyone, a pleasant smile on his face but his gaze intense with something that Meng Yao doesn’t recognize as it drags between Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue.
If Lan Xichen wants it…
Meng Yao would do anything for Lan Xichen. Let this be the proof.
He finally manages to tear his gaze away from Lan Xichen, looking to the chair Nie Mingjue is sitting in. He raises a brow in silent question.
He expects Nie Mingjue to put up more of a fight, or to storm out of the room, or to call Meng Yao a snake, or something. He doesn’t expect Nie Mingjue’s eyes to lazily track up and down the line of Meng Yao’s body. He doesn’t expect Nie Mingjue to sigh and say, “Fine. Whatever. Come here so we can get this over with.”
It feels like there’s too many eyes on Meng Yao as he’s making his way around the coffee table. Distantly, he hears talk of timers and Lan Xichen arguing that it should be ten minutes and someone else arguing that it really only needs to be three.
Somehow, his feet manage to carry him across the room and he stands awkwardly in front of the chair, wondering how they’re going to do this. Nie Mingjue is so tall that it would still be perfectly comfortable if Meng Yao remained standing.
But…
It’s easier if Meng Yao is sitting in his lap. He’s got a knee planted on one side of Nie Mingjue, about to climb on in there, when a strong arm wraps tightly around Meng Yao’s waist and hauls him in.
Mingjue’s lips are warm and slightly chapped. He tastes faintly of the whiskey he’s been sipping all evening, looking devastatingly handsome with a crystal tumbler wrapped up in his large hand.
Meng Yao sighs, tilting his head. It’s so easy to find the right angle. So familiar.
They hadn’t made a habit of kissing, the handful of times that they’ve slept together since the break up. That’s not to say that they’ve avoided kissing all together, but neither of them particularly sought it out. It was more incidental- chasing after the taste in the other’s mouth, or because Nie Mingjue’s dick is huge and Meng Yao usually needs a minute or two to adjust and really, what else are they supposed to do during that time?
But every time it’s happened, kissing Nie Mingjue feels like coming home again.
Their kiss isn’t gentle, but kissing Nie Mingjue has never been gentle. He’s hungry and demanding. He makes Meng Yao feel wanted. He makes Meng Yao want things- beautiful things, forbidden things, things that can’t happen.
The arm around Meng Yao’s waist tightens, pulling him closer, and Nie Mingjue’s other hand winds into his hair. Meng Yao keeps his hands firmly planted on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders so that they won’t be tempted to go wandering other places, but still…
Nice shoulders. Broad shoulders.
His fingers dig in, hard enough that he’s sure he’s leaving bruises. He always tries to leave bruises. Selfishly, at best, he wants Nie Mingjue to be thinking about him, even when he’s not there, trying and failing to fit his fingers to the bruises because his hands are so damn big.
At worst, Meng Yao can comfort himself with the fact that they hopefully piss Nie Mingjue off when he catches sight of them.
Nie Mingjue bites and sucks at Meng Yao’s lower lip and he opens his mouth so wonderfully for Meng Yao to slip his tongue in, tracing it along the roof of Nie Mingjue’s mouth.
Somewhere, from the other side of the room, there’s a sharp gasp. Lan Xichen.
In a few minutes, once Meng Yao regains the ability to think, he’ll admit to himself that Lan Xichen’s gasp is probably what caused the kiss to go off the rails. Not that it had been very controlled to begin with, but whatever happened after that is probably better classified as ‘dry humping in front of a group of your friends and both of your brothers’ than ‘making out.’
Nie Mingjue slips a hand into the pocket of Meng Yao’s shorts. That always used to drive Meng Yao fucking crazy when they were dating.
Thud.
Something hits the back of Meng Yao’s head, knocking him into Nie Mingjue hard enough that their teeth clack together painfully. Meng Yao sucks in a few deep breaths, feeling like he’s coming out of an especially disorienting mid-afternoon nap. Where is he? When is he? Who is he?
“Your time ended, like, almost two minutes ago,” Wei Wuxian informs them with a shit eating grin.
Based on the fact that Jiang Cheng has another pillow in his hands, Meng Yao assumes that he was the one to throw the first. Jin Zixuan is very pointedly staring at the wall on the other side of the room. Nie Huaisang has his fan up like a privacy shield, his head buried in his phone.
And Lan Xichen…
Lan Xichen…
His mouth is hanging open, hands clenched tightly into fists in his lap. But he doesn’t look jealous. He looks like he just witnessed a miracle.
Look at him, Meng Yao wants to lean in and whisper to Nie Mingjue while kissing his neck. Look at our angel carved from jade. Look at how he looks at us.
But he can’t whisper that, because this is a game of stupid Truth or Dare and Nie Huaisang taps his fan on the top of Meng Yao’s head and says, “It’s your turn to pick someone, san-ge.”
Nie Mingjue is so eager to get Meng Yao out of his lap that he practically dumps Meng Yao on the floor. He doesn’t land on his bad hip, so at least he’s able to preserve some of his dignity as he endures the walk of shame back to his own chair without limping.
After running his fingers through his hair a few times and collecting his wine bottle from where he had deposited it on the floor next to his chair, he takes a long swig and then surveys his options.
No Nie Mingjue, obviously, and he’s not sure what he would ask Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli. Leave that to someone who knows them better.
Wei Wuxian will pick dare because he’s shameless. Nie Huaisang will pick dare and attempt to whine his way out of it. Lan Wangji will be boring about it, probably.
“Jin Zixuan, truth or dare?” Meng Yao asks.
Jin Zixuan glances at Jiang Yanli out of the corner of his eye and shoots a panicked shake of his head to Meng Yao. He seems to realize that Meng Yao won’t go easy on him simply by nature of being brothers and he nearly trips over himself to say, “Dare.”
Probably a smart choice on his part. Meng Yao is feeling particularly vindictive after Nie Mingjue dumped him onto the floor and he would have taken twisted pleasure in forcing his brother to admit his crush, had Jin Zixuan picked truth.
“A-Xian.” Meng Yao has never called Wei Wuxian anything other than Wei Wuxian in the entire time that they’ve known each other. Wei Wuxian knows this, so he looks sufficiently panicked when Meng Yao turns his brightest, emptiest smile onto the younger man. If Jin Zixuan is too cowardly to pick truth, then Meng Yao is going to make him suffer. “Did you bring the peppers with you?”
A wicked grin slowly spreads across Wei Wuxian’s face.
“Yao-ge. Gege. San-ge.” Wei Wuxian presses his hand to his heart and bows. “What kind of person would I be, if I didn’t bring any Carolina Reapers with me to a week long vacation in The Hamptons?”
The realization dawns on Jin Zixuan’s face. “No. Shot. I pick the shot. Are you trying to kill me, A-Yao?”
Meng Yao tilts his head to the side, perfectly aware of how unnerving it looks, coupled with the smile on his face. “Why would I do something like that? It was so kind of you to invite me on this trip.”
Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are heckling Jin Zixuan for backing out of the dare and Jiang Yanli is laughing while she tries to control her brothers.
“He at least has to let us pick what shot he’s going to take!” Wei Wuxian cries out.
“Fine.” A shudder wracks Jin Zixuan’s whole body. “Just not the pepper. Anything but the pepper.”
“We’re going to make it terrible!” Wei Wuxian shouts gleefully, dragging Jiang Cheng off the couch so the two of them can go conspire over at the bar in the corner.
Jin Zixuan survives the shot without throwing up. Barely. And Jiang Yanli rubs a hand up and down his back, so maybe it’s not the worst outcome, all things considered.
The game continues on after that. Wei Wuxian dares Nie Huaisang to hotwire a car and he does it in less than two minutes, accompanied immediately by Nie Mingjue dragging his brother out of the car by his collar and shouting, “Where the fuck did you learn to do that? You can’t even drive.”
One by one, more dares than truths are doled out, and it winds back around to Jin Zixuan asking, “A-Yao, truth or dare?”
Based on his experience picking dare in the last round, and the fact that he gave his brother a particularly nasty dare that turned into a particularly nasty shot, Meng Yao doesn’t have to think long before he decides, “Truth."
Really, what’s the worst his brother could ask? Jin Zixuan is too awkward to ask anything particularly scandalous without dying of embarrassment.
Jin Zixuan fiddles with the drink in his hands for a few seconds and then inhales sharply, “No. I’m going to ask it because I don’t think you’d tell me the truth otherwise-” fuck, he’s going to ask if I still have feelings for Nie Mingjue, “-those bruises you used to get in high school… Who was, uh- I mean, how were you getting those? Who was giving those to you?”
“That’s two questions,” Meng Yao points out on reflex, his ears ringing.
Distantly, he hears Wei Wuxian throwing a pillow at Jin Zixuan and shouting, “Peacock, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
A warm hand settles on Meng Yao’s shoulder, pulling him back from where he had rapidly been sinking into his mind. Lan Xichen kneels beside his chair and smiles at him- his eyes look remarkably clearer and the softest Meng Yao has ever seen them. He loves Lan Xichen so much it hurts.
“A-Yao, you don’t have to answer that.”
“He has to answer it, that’s the rules,” Nie Mingjue barks out. “He doesn’t get special treatment during your game just because you think he’s pretty, Lan Xichen.”
Meng Yao needs a full thirty seconds to parse through all the emotions that arise in him. It’s too slow. His mind feels like he’s wading through sand. Is Nie Mingjue trying to humiliate him? Is Nie Mingjue jealous? Why is Nie Mingjue’s fist clenching and unclenching in his lap, like he’s trying to stop himself from hitting something? Lan Xichen thinks I’m pretty?
“It was someone, wasn’t it?” Jin Zixuan continues. “I was always too scared to ask at the time, but… was it my mother? …Father?”
“Yes,” Meng Yao grits out. “There’s your fucking answer.”
Jin Zixuan looks down at the ground, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do more, at the time. It’s my biggest regret.” He shoots a mournful look at Jiang Yanli out of the corner of his eye. “One of them, at least.”
Meng Yao is gripping onto Lan Xichen’s wrist hard enough that he knows it has to hurt, but Lan Xichen’s smile never falters. “We can talk about it later.” Meng Yao is done with this conversation. He hates this game. Why would Lan Xichen ever suggest this horrible game? Meng Yao quickly scans through the list of people who have already taken their turns and asks, “Jiang Yanli, truth or dare?”
She shoots Meng Yao a kind smile. “Dare.”
“Drink pickle juice,” Meng Yao waves a hand haphazardly in the air and slumps back in his chair, cradling his bottle of wine. It’s a boring dare, but it brings back some of the energy in the room, at least.
The mood steadily improves as the game continues, but Meng Yao is content to cradle his bottle of wine and ignore the rest of the stupid game.
“Lan Zhan, truth or dare?!” Wei Wuxian rubs his hands together. Last round he hadn’t been able to get Lan Wangji and literally everyone could tell he was upset about that.
They’ve shifted from their earlier positions sharing the chair. Wei Wuxian occupies it completely and Wangji is sitting with his legs crossed, perfect posture, at Wei Wuxian’s feet.
He tilts his face upwards, studying the smile on Wei Wuxian’s face.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you’re adorable.” Wei Wuxian pokes his forehead. “Don’t worry.” His face looked the exact same, no worry at all. “I’ll go easy on you if you pick dare.”
Lan Wangji is quiet for a long moment but eventually, he tentatively says, “Dare.”
Wei Wuxian’s grin is downright devious. “I dare you to go skinny dipping later.”
“Shameless,” Lan Wangji splutters, the tips of his ears turning bright red.
Wei Wuxian cackles above him. “Lan Zhan, just a quick dip. In and out. I’ll join you, if you want.”
Lan Wangji stares longingly in the direction of the bar, and Meng Yao wonders if he’s going to choose the shot, instead. Lan Wangji might actually die if he takes the shot. Where Lan Xichen indulges in alcohol on occasion, to Meng Yao’s knowledge, Lan Wangji has never drank alcohol before.
“Fine.” Lan Wangji eventually agrees, looking less than enthused. “Later.”
Wei Wuxian whoops in delight. “Yes, later. Later is fine. Later is so good. Look at you, Lan Zhan, you little daredevil.”
Lan Wangji seems eager to get the attention off himself and looks over to Lan Xichen. “Brother, truth or dare?”
Lan Xichen’s smile is resplendent. “Dare!!!”
Lan Wangji is silent for a long time, which makes it clear he’s still flustered by his last turn and can’t think of a dare. Wei Wuxian starts unhelpfully shouting out suggestions and Lan Wangji looks like he’s about to say, ‘What Wei Ying said’ and leave them all trying to figure out which of Wei Wuxian’s ridiculous dares he meant, when Lan Xichen leans over to whisper in his brother’s ear.
“Brother!” Lan Wangji chokes out, the loudest Meng Yao has ever heard the quiet man speak. He looks utterly shocked, too- which means his eyebrows have raised a whole two millimeters on his forehead. “Brother, you’re drunk.”
Lan Wangji attempts, unsuccessfully, to pull the mostly empty glass of wine from Lan Xichen’s hands. Meng Yao is fairly certain this is the same glass he poured earlier, in the kitchen. The Lan tolerance for alcohol is truly abysmal.
“I gave you a suggestion, didi.” Lan Xichen pats his brother on the top of his head. “It’s a very good dare.”
“Brother, I’m not daring you to-” Lan Wangji cuts himself off and shoots a panicked look up to Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian wiggles his toes, digging them into the meat of Lan Wangji’s thigh. He asks in a sing-songy voice, “Lan Zhaaaaan, what did your brother just tell youuuuu? Lan Zhan, you aren’t supposed to keep secrets from me. You should tell me now or I’ll die of heartbreak, thinking I’m unloved.”
Lan Wangji looks momentarily alarmed again. It’s the most expressive Meng Yao has ever seen him. “Wei Ying will not die.”
From the couch, Jiang Cheng groans. “It’s against the rules to pick your own dare.”
“It’s a very good dare!!!” Lan Xichen says defensively. “Wangji, this is taking too long. I’ll say it. Wangji dares me to-”
“Brother!” Lan Wangji cuts Lan Xichen off again. He gets both hands on Lan Xichen’s shoulders and they stare at each other for a long time. Meng Yao has no idea who is winning that particular staring contest. He assumes Lan Wangji, because Lan Wangji is the most stubborn, inflexible man to ever exist, but then he sighs and says, “Are you sure?”
Lan Xichen nods eagerly.
Lan Wangji sighs again- his sighs are so soft that they’re more like exhales. His eyes close. Lan Xichen, what did you ask?
“I dare brother to kiss Nie Mingjue,” Lan Wangji says witheringly. Meng Yao’s heart stops beating in his chest. Nie Mingjue? Why Nie Mingjue? Why, when he dared me to kiss Nie Mingjue earlier? He’s broken out of the dark spiral of his thoughts by Lan Wangji adding, equally put-upon. “And to kiss Meng Yao.”
“Lan Xichen, you dog!” Wei Wuxian cries out in glee, leaning over Lan Wangji’s shoulder to ruffle Lan Xichen’s hair. “If you wanted to play a kissing game, we could’ve played Spin The Bottle.”
“No,” Lan Wangji says emphatically.
Lan Xichen shoots Wei Wuxian a look that says ‘see, he wouldn’t have agreed’ and expands upon that point by saying ‘because Wangji is in love with you and would die inside if he or you ever had to kiss someone else’, but Wei Wuxian likely doesn’t pick up on that second part, on account of being stupid.
Meng Yao licks his lips. His mouth is dry. Too dry. He opens his mouth to try and speak, maybe to shout his agreement or to say something along the lines of ‘someone get ready to give me CPR if I have to watch Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue kiss,’ but all he manages is an undignified squeak that he prays no one overhears.
Lan Xichen is standing in front of him. How did he get there? When did he get there? What is happening right now? It feels like the very fabric of reality is fragmenting and crumbling around Meng Yao.
A hand curls around his wrist. Large. Warm. Gentle. Elegant fingers.
Lan Xichen.
He’s smiling down at Meng Yao- a real smile- one of the ones that is so wide it makes little lines appear at the corners of his eyes. Meng Yao wants to kiss them, every time.
The hand on his wrist tugs and Meng Yao is helpless to do anything but follow as Lan Xichen guides him to a seat on the couch. The couch that was formerly occupied. Suddenly, Meng Yao notices that the room is a lot emptier than it was a few minutes ago.
Lan Xichen squeezes Meng Yao’s wrist before he drops it, stroking his fingers along the back of his hand as he softly orders “stay,” and goes to retrieve Nie Mingjue from his chair. He and Meng Yao exchange a look of equal helplessness, like they both know how bad this situation is.
Lan Xichen is drunk. He’s drunk. But neither of them have ever been able to say no to him.
Meng Yao was expecting Lan Xichen to direct Nie Mingjue to the cushion on the other side of the couch and deposit himself in the middle between them. Meng Yao was counting on that, actually. Everything goes smoother when Lan Xichen is a buffer between Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue.
But Nie Mingjue is the one shoved- shoved! Lan Xichen, who even are you?- onto the middle seat of the couch, so close to Meng Yao that their thighs press together, even when Meng Yao tries to subtly shift further into the corner of the couch to avoid the physical contact.
Nie Mingjue’s thighs are massive. It’s not his fault, really.
As Lan Xichen cradles Nie Mingjue’s face in his hands and straddles those enormous thighs, Meng Yao wonders if he looked that sensual when he was doing the same thing earlier. Probably not. Lan Xichen is the epitome of grace and elegance, all his movements fluid and smooth. He manages to tilt Nie Mingjue’s head back in the same motion as he settles himself in Nie Mingjue’s lap and Meng Yao is sure that he’s dead.
He doesn’t just get to watch this, right?
That’s not how this works. In the impossible scenario where all of Meng Yao’s carefully laid plans fail and Lan Xichen picks Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao had planned to pack up and ask his father for a transfer to the Chinese division of the Jin company. Meng Yao would not be here to see things like this.
He wouldn’t be here to see the way Nie Mingjue looks starstruck- an expression that used to be directed at Meng Yao, but that he hasn’t seen in so long and he’s missed it, desperately. He wouldn’t be here to hear how Lan Xichen nearly purrs as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Nie Mingjue.
There are some benefits to where Meng Yao is sitting. He can hear their breaths, the nearly indistinguishable whimper that comes from Lan Xichen, the wet sounds of their lips sliding against one another. He can see the way Lan Xichen’s mouth curls up slightly in the corner, smiling even now. He can feel Lan Xichen’s knee pressed into the cushion, right next to his hip.
It’s a beautiful kiss, the kind of thing someone might see in a romantic movie. Slow. Hungry. It’s exactly the kind of kiss he would picture the two of them sharing, if he ever allowed his mind to follow that particular train of thought.
His dick twitches in his pants. How could it not, watching a sight like that? And it makes a valiant effort to rouse itself to full hardness when Lan Xichen’s eyes open, heavy and hazy with lust, and he moans softly into Nie Mingjue’s mouth. Just at the sight of Meng Yao.
One of Lan Xichen’s hands fumbles around in Meng Yao’s lap and he freezes. That’s- no- he’s not going to- what is happening? But Lan Xichen only reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.
Oh. Lan Xichen had just wanted to hold his hand. Lan Xichen had just wanted to hold his hand. Lan Xichen had just wanted to hold his hand.
While kissing Nie Mingjue.
Meng Yao squeezes back and Lan Xichen moans again, louder this time, pulling away from Nie Mingjue even when Nie Mingjue tries to chase after him and drag him back into another kiss.
“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen whispers. Breathless. Incredulous. And that’s all the warning Meng Yao gets before Lan Xichen leans over to kiss him.
A strand of Lan Xichen’s long hair tickles Meng Yao’s collar bone and he has to turn his head at an angle that makes him too aware of his bad shoulder.
It’s a fine kiss. Fine. It’s just fine.
Kissing Lan Xichen was never supposed to be just fine, though. It was supposed to be like that kiss in Princess Diaries- a movie Meng Yao has loved his whole life, foolish and aspirational of him to imprint on when he was younger and had dreams of his father coming to rescue him and his mother by sweeping them into a life of grandeur. But he had loved that movie and that silly idea of a foot pop worthy kiss has always stuck in his mind. He’s supposed to want to kick his leg up when he’s kissing Lan Xichen.
Lan Xichen is as close to a perfect prince as humanly possible.
Maybe it’s because of all the years he’s spent thinking of this moment, building it up in his head. He’s been thinking about what it would be like to kiss Lan Xichen since high school- when Lan Xichen had apparently been kissing and exchanging occasional, exploratory handjobs with Nie Mingjue, though Meng Yao didn’t find out about that until much, much later, because Nie Mingjue graduated before Meng Yao’s joined their fancy school.
It’s just that he always had imagined that kissing Lan Xichen would be sweet. The kisses would start soft and innocent and Meng Yao would coax Lan Xichen into something deeper and headier until Lan Xichen was falling apart at the seams.
The reality of the kiss is that Lan Xichen is practically trembling with restraint as he licks into Meng Yao’s mouth and Meng Yao is helpless to do anything but part his lips a bit further and attempt to keep up with Lan Xichen’s enthusiasm.
It’s messy. Maybe Lan Xichen’s motions are being filtered by the alcohol and that’s why everything is so sloppy. Maybe it’s the couch, or the positioning, or the fact that Nie Mingjue is here to ruin everything, as he does.
Meng Yao holds hopefully onto those facts so he isn’t overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his own disappointment.
Kissing Lan Xichen was supposed to be the highlight of Meng Yao’s life. The penultimate moment where all of Meng Yao’s hard work finally pays off with beautiful jade, not the gold lacquered Jin rot he’s constantly surrounded by.
But he is disappointed. Nie Mingjue got the kiss with Lan Xichen that Meng Yao wanted.
The kiss that Meng Yao shared with Nie Mingjue earlier was better than kissing Xichen, and what the fuck does that mean for Meng Yao?
Or is he just disappointed because what he wants isn’t possible. It just isn’t. Nie Mingjue won’t ever trust Meng Yao again. Nie Mingjue only ever expects the worst from Meng Yao. So Meng Yao will settle for just Lan Xichen, who only ever sees the best in Meng Yao, and he’ll spend the rest of his life only ever being half-seen.
He’s not sure why the thought of that nearly makes him cry.
“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen pulls away, his thumb stroking along the line of Meng Yao’s cheek and his beautiful eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Excuse me,” Meng Yao worms his way out from where he’s been crowded into the corner of the couch and slips away from Lan Xichen’s touch.
“A-Yao?” Lan Xichen calls after him, sounding hurt and confused, and it sinks into Meng Yao’s heart like a dagger.
“Let him go, A-Huan,” follows Nie Mingjue’s rumbling voice, and somehow that hurts just as bad.
Nie Mingjue called him A-Huan and I’m not there.
Lan Xichen, I still love you, I just need some time to process and adjust the plans in my head.
Meng Yao escapes up to his room, collapsing face first onto his bed. It’s times like these he misses his mother most. The ache of her loss is always there, but moments like this- like the breakup with Nie Mingjue, like the agonizing nights he spent lying in his bed after being pushed down the stairs- he’d give anything to lay his head in her lap and have her fingers card through his hair. He’d give anything to hear her say, “it’s going to be okay, A-Yao,” in her soft, lyrical voice.
Because right now, it doesn’t feel like things are going to be okay.