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It's been a particularly good year for wine. Not that Lan Xichen would know, because he isn't drinking it, but he can tell. It's in the increased freedom of the laughter at the gathering. It's in the way people smile at each other.
It's in the way Jin Guangyao looks at him. https://twitter.com/sunbirb/status/1277040108412289024
It's in the way Jin Guangyao looks at him. https://twitter.com/sunbirb/status/1277040108412289024
Not that Jin Guangyao is spending a lot of time looking at him. They're careful, in company. It's not as if their relationship is entirely a secret, at least, not from everyone, but there are many reasons to keep it... subtle.
He often wishes this was not true.
He often wishes this was not true.
He's wishing that now.
Jin Guangyao doesn't have a high tolerance for alcohol. It makes his cheeks pink and his eyes shine and it embarrasses him *horribly* when manners demand he drink more than he would prefer.
Lan Xichen would like nothing more than to sweep him out of here.
Jin Guangyao doesn't have a high tolerance for alcohol. It makes his cheeks pink and his eyes shine and it embarrasses him *horribly* when manners demand he drink more than he would prefer.
Lan Xichen would like nothing more than to sweep him out of here.
Lan Xichen can, at least, getting away with not drinking. He can cite his three thousand rules. Jin Guangyao has no defense.
He rises, earning a swift glance from Wangji, who looks like he desperately doesn't want to be here. His robes a flat, crisp white, his food untouched.
He rises, earning a swift glance from Wangji, who looks like he desperately doesn't want to be here. His robes a flat, crisp white, his food untouched.
Wangji follows his gaze to Jin Guangyao, and then what little expression he has flattens from his face.
But there's nothing he can do about that, and Jin Zixun is making a drunken beeline for Jin Guangyao.
Lan Xichen makes sure he gets there first.
But there's nothing he can do about that, and Jin Zixun is making a drunken beeline for Jin Guangyao.
Lan Xichen makes sure he gets there first.
"Jin-gongzi." He bows slightly. Jin Guangyao blinks at him, his reflexes a touch too slow.
"Lan-zongzhu." He's always flustered when Lan Xichen bows to him.
"Will you walk with me?" Lan Xichen asks. "I'd like to speak with you."
It would be rude to refuse. A-Yao is never rude.
"Lan-zongzhu." He's always flustered when Lan Xichen bows to him.
"Will you walk with me?" Lan Xichen asks. "I'd like to speak with you."
It would be rude to refuse. A-Yao is never rude.
The cool evening quiet of the courtyard garden is a soothing balm to both of them. In the lamplight, sweat shines at the edge of A-Yao's hat. He's flushed, and his hands flex slowly at his sides, fingers rubbing over his thumb as if to soothe a hurt.
"What did Lan-zongzhu wish to speak of?" he asks. His vocal control would sound impeccable to most people, but Lan Xichen hears the brittle edge, how hard he's working.
"There's no need to be formal with me, A-Yao." He can't tell him he's rescuing him. A-Yao wouldn't like that.
"There's no need to be formal with me, A-Yao." He can't tell him he's rescuing him. A-Yao wouldn't like that.
A-Yao turns to him. The lamplight glitters in his eyes like stars. He sways, just a little, dizzy from the motion, and Lan Xichen puts out a hand, touches his elbow to offer support.
A-Yao freezes, and then... leans in. His shoulders soften, sag.
A-Yao freezes, and then... leans in. His shoulders soften, sag.
"Are you," he says softly, "*rescuing* me, A-Huan?"
How foolish of him, to think A-Yao wouldn't notice. He smiles, lowers his eyes.
A-Yao smiles back, shadow pooling in the dimple on his cheek.
"Zewu-jun, my hero." His voice is even softer. Husky, now. Lan Xichen swallows.
How foolish of him, to think A-Yao wouldn't notice. He smiles, lowers his eyes.
A-Yao smiles back, shadow pooling in the dimple on his cheek.
"Zewu-jun, my hero." His voice is even softer. Husky, now. Lan Xichen swallows.
"The wine is good this year," Lan Xichen comments, to distract himself from the way A-Yao is *looking* at him. They're in a public garden, after all.
"Yes." A-Yao sighs, sways again. He's so small inside the layers of his robes, all that golden bulk to make him look bigger.
"Yes." A-Yao sighs, sways again. He's so small inside the layers of his robes, all that golden bulk to make him look bigger.
"I picked it," he says. "I needed people to get along. To... listen to me." He blinks owlishly at the lamp, then turns away, starts walking. Lan Xichen walks with him, close enough their shoulders brush with the unusual looseness of A-Yao's stride.
"You didn't plan to drink so much of it," Lan Xichen guesses.
"No..."
"No..."
A-Yao sighs again, tips his head back towards the moon, hanging over the garden like a silver coin. He stretches out one hand as if to pluck it from the sky. The gesture is so graceful, even like this. He should have been a dancer.
"I want," he says slowly, carefully, "to give it to you."
"Give what to me?"
"The... the moon, A-Huan. You could wear it in your hair."
"Give what to me?"
"The... the moon, A-Huan. You could wear it in your hair."
"You want me to wear the moon in my hair?"
"Yes. Aren't you listening? Your hair, black as the sky... you just need a beautiful moon to shine in it..." He lowers his hand slowly, with all the purposeful care of someone aware he's very drunk.
"Yes. Aren't you listening? Your hair, black as the sky... you just need a beautiful moon to shine in it..." He lowers his hand slowly, with all the purposeful care of someone aware he's very drunk.
"I want," he articulates each word with the same care, "to stitch the stars into your clothes. I want to give you the planets for rings. And the moon. In your hair."
Lan Xichen can only stare. He's never, ever heard him talk like this.
Lan Xichen can only stare. He's never, ever heard him talk like this.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" A-Yao asks, when he doesn't answer.
Lan Xichen tries to find the words for it. For being described like that. For the wonder of it, and also how much he's worried about A-Yao at the same time.
He fails.
Lan Xichen tries to find the words for it. For being described like that. For the wonder of it, and also how much he's worried about A-Yao at the same time.
He fails.
"A-Yao, I..."
A-Yao steps closer. Closer. He's so beautiful.
He's so drunk.
"Shh," A-Yao says, and puts his finger against Lan Xichen's lips. "Shh. I'll do it, you know. I can. Get you the moon." He doesn't think A-Yao is actually talking about the moon anymore.
A-Yao steps closer. Closer. He's so beautiful.
He's so drunk.
"Shh," A-Yao says, and puts his finger against Lan Xichen's lips. "Shh. I'll do it, you know. I can. Get you the moon." He doesn't think A-Yao is actually talking about the moon anymore.
"I know." His lips move against A-Yao's finger. It sends a thrill through him. This is not what's supposed to be happening. Here, in a public garden. Here, with A-Yao drunk.
He needs to take control of this situation.
He needs to take control of this situation.
Gently, he curls his fingers around A-Yao's wrist, pulls his hand down. A-Yao doesn't resist, his muscles soft, pliant. He pouts.
He actually *pouts.*
"A-Huan..."
"Let's keep walking. Walk with me. Tell me more about the moon."
They do. He does.
-fin-
He actually *pouts.*
"A-Huan..."
"Let's keep walking. Walk with me. Tell me more about the moon."
They do. He does.
-fin-
