[pfsb] sword forms by the lake

[lightamidchaos]

It is late afternoon by the time he makes his way outside.

Lan Wangji is well aware that Wei Ying would probably very much prefer him to be resting again at present, and in truth he likely should be, especially given what had just come to pass in the library not long before.

But. But. It has been three days, and he needs to know how much strength he can regain, how quickly, before he returns to Cold Pond Cave and faces his brother, tomorrow.

(He is fairly certain Shufu did not intend the injuries to be quite as severe this time, either. Fairly certain.)

Bichen flashes into his hand, gleaming along the blade with a faint, icy blue-white shine. Lan Wangji draws a deep breath, and begins to move through each of the Lan sword forms in a slow motion routine, his concentration absolute.

Comments

[lightamidchaos]

“All right.”

He squeezes Wei Ying’s fingers and kisses his cheek, then picks up the comb and hands it to him.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian's smile grows at the kiss. He accepts the comb and turns around, beckoning for Lan Zhan to do the same.

The scars do not look any less terrible in the light of morning than they did the night before. A sick knot tightens in his throat; he swallows it away, gathering Lan Zhan's hair so it may fall softly over the marks. He draws his fingers through it in an initial coaxing, as soft and gentle as if they were still lying side by side in bed.

Once that is complete, he sets to work properly combing it with the same care and focus Lan Zhan displayed.

[lightamidchaos]

His breath catches.

Lan Wangji is not certain of the last time someone touched him like this. Treatment by a doctor or someone acting as one is different, of course. Even more different, and utterly treasured, is the passion that runs between him and Wei Ying now. But this--

No one touches the icy, remote, peerless Second Jade of Lan. Not casually, and certainly not with such intent. No one reaches for Hanguang-jun, not in passing, and never like this.

No one but Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who has always been easy to touch, who for so long thought nothing of slinging his arm around another's shoulders, of friendly, warm camaraderie, and who cannot possibly realize just how overwhelming that is to him, just how much it means. Wei Ying, who ignored the distance that Lan Wangji had tried to set between himself and the rest of the world from the start, and who now has become the most beloved person in it.

He closes his eyes, tries to steady his breathing, and gives himself over to the sensation of being cared for, with love.

[acrookedpath]

He pauses only briefly, when Lan Zhan's breath hitches, to ensure he did not accidentally bump one of the fresh injuries on his back. Only when he is certain Lan Zhan isn't in pain does he continue.

The tangles of the previous night's exertions give way beneath the comb, little by little. Wei Wuxian hums softly as he works: sometimes a snippet of melody he makes up on the spot, sometimes a line from one of Harrow's songs. Once, even, something he vaguely remembers from his excursion to London Above.

When he is done, he sweeps Lan Zhan's hair forward over his shoulders to lay his back bare. Very gently, he presses a kiss to one of the scars high upon his shoulder blades, lingering, eyes closed.

[lightamidchaos]

A shiver runs through him, even as he suddenly holds himself very, very still.

"Wei Ying," he whispers.

[acrookedpath]

Very soft: "I love you, Lan Zhan."

I love every part of you.

A moment passes, and he breaks into a rueful chuckle, drawing away from Lan Zhan. "I also don't remember where your hairpiece ended up. Let me go ahead and tend to your back, then we will finish with your hair."

[lightamidchaos]

He huffs out a soft breath that might be a whisper of a laugh, and nods.

"I am in your hands."

[acrookedpath]

"All right," he says, soft and warm.

Dropping one more small kiss on the side of Lan Zhan's neck, he clambers further up the bed to retrieve the ointment. "Ah, there was also the salve she gave you for pain -- do you want that as well?"

[lightamidchaos]

"No," he says. "I do not need it. I am not in pain."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian glances over his shoulder, all set to shoot Lan Zhan a skeptical look -- but to his surprise (and not-insubstantial relief), Lan Zhan does not carry the same avoidant posture as before, when he insisted he was fine even while half collapsed over a table.

"All right," he says again, more cheerfully. "Then -- "

He scoots around to Lan Zhan's back and uncaps the ointment, dabbing it onto the lacerations.

[lightamidchaos]

He stays still and patient throughout as Wei Ying applies the ointment, while quiet wonder blossoms in his heart once more.

Only once Wei Ying finishes, once he hears the quiet click of the cap snapping back into place, does he turn to him and put both arms around his waist, burying his face in Wei Ying's shoulder.

[acrookedpath]

The embrace squeezes a startled laugh out of Wei Wuxian, even as his arms go around Lan Zhan without thought to draw him closer.

"Lan Zhan, what is it?" he asks.

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head, saying nothing, and just holds on.

[acrookedpath]

A tiny spark of worry ignites under his breastbone. With care, he smooths a hand down Lan Zhan's back; touches his lips to his hair, breathing in the scent of him.

"I am here," he whispers. "It's all right."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods, this time.

"Yes."

[acrookedpath]

He holds Lan Zhan a moment longer, continuing to run his palm over his back in slow, careful strokes. Already, he has begun to learn the map of his scars, fingertips meeting each ridge and valley without surprise. He will not grow used to it; he cannot. But he can accept that they are and shall remain a part of Lan Zhan.

Eventually, he coaxes Lan Zhan's head from his shoulder so he can draw him into a kiss, small ans sweet.

[lightamidchaos]

He kisses him back, then smiles up at him, slight but clear.

"Thank you."

[acrookedpath]

No louder: "You're welcome."

He draws the pad of his thumb over Lan Zhan's cheek as he returns the smile. Unable to resist, he pecks him on the lips one more time before he lets go.

The hairpiece will turn up somewhere. Hopefully under their robes, and not under the bedclothes, lurking in wait to jab one of them in the backside if they lay down on the wrong spot. But first --

(He wishes he did not have to do this. It is no easier than the first time, when they separated so Lan Zhan could go to the library.)

Wei Wuxian picks at the intricate knot holding Lan Zhan's ribbon in place. As if cradling a strand of spun glass, he unwinds the pale silk from his wrist, lets it pool into his palm. He looks up at Lan Zhan with a crooked smile.

"Hold still," he whispers, and reaches up to tie the ribbon around his forehead.

[lightamidchaos]

He remains perfectly still as Wei Ying reties his ribbon, and knows that everything he feels is clear in his eyes as he watches the other man.

"Even when you are not wearing it, you hold my heart."

[acrookedpath]

Oh, no, not again!

"Lan Zhan," and that's all Wei Wuxian gets out before he thuds his head onto Lan Zhan's shoulder, laughing, already blushing so ferociously that Lan Zhan can likely feel it on his bare skin.

[lightamidchaos]

He hums a pleased sound and runs his hand up and down Wei Ying's back.

[acrookedpath]

Muffled, "At least wait until we have the tea so I can warm it properly, zhiji."

He lifts his head, squares his shoulders, grins as bright as the sunlight upon their bed. "Right. Your hairpiece," he says. He swipes a finger against a lock of Lan Zhan's hair to tuck it behind his ear; trails the same fingertip across his forehead ribbon as his grin softens. "It cannot have gone far."

And indeed it hasn't: when he swings himself partway out of bed to rummage through their discarded clothes, he yelps as he closes his hand around a pointy piece of metal buried in Lan Zhan's inner robes. Wei Wuxian shakes the hairpiece free and returns to Lan Zhan's back to begin sweeping his hair in place.

"I am not as good at this as my own hair," he admits as he tries to remember the intricate twists and turns Lan Zhan employs to secure his hair. "But I will do my best."

[lightamidchaos]

"You will become more familiar with it in time."

He sounds unconcerned, the reason for which becomes immediately apparent as he adds,

"Anything you do will be perfect, because it will be how you have made me look."

[acrookedpath]

"You," he accuses, fractionally more high-pitched, "are doing this on purpose now."

He kisses the back of Lan Zhan's neck.

"But yes. I will have many days of our future to practice. Months. Years." His fingers deftly guide one section of his hair in place, then another. "Soon I will be able to do it in my sleep. You will wake at mao hour and I will be dreaming next to you, fiddling with your hair."

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

To him, it sounds exactly as it should be.