acrookedpath | [pfsb] happy halloween!

[pfsb] happy halloween!

It's that time of year again.

The inn is bustling. All manner of strange outfits have been donned (some more willingly than others). Lanterns flicker ominously in the corners, pumpkins stand sentry at either end of the bar, and every order comes complete with a handful of wrapped candies.

And -- if you're Wei Wuxian -- Madam Bar has also gifted you with an enormous array of tiny cakes, each one with a little candle stuck in its center. His second birthday at the inn has arrived, and he could not be more pleased.

(He's also wearing a red T-shirt that reads, simply, I'M THE CHAOS. Just like last year, he has set his mild confusion aside in favor of delight at the bounty Madam Bar has given him.)

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“It may have. We can ask Madam Bar.”

He breathes, deep and steady. Wei Ying is here, and safe. Jiang Yanli was here and safe, and will be again. The Black Rabbit kept its promise; there was no harm given them, and his own core is now restored. All is as well as it can be.

“You will not have to wait a year. We have found ways before; there must be others.”

"I hope so," he whispers.

Settling his hand more comfortably on Lan Zhan's arm, he glances up at him again. "How is your back?"

“Better.” He reaches to brush a lock of hair back from Wei Ying’s face.

“I hope I did not worry you too much.”

He cracks a tiny smile, leaning into Lan Zhan's touch.

"A little," he admits. "It has been a while since it has hurt that badly, that suddenly, eh? But at least it did not linger."

“It did not,” he promises. It was worth the pain, every second of it, to see them so happy together.

“I am fine.”

"Good," he murmurs. "And you know I will be happy to tend to your back should it grow worse again."

He stretches a few more inches to peck Lan Zhan on the lips.

He makes a soft sound and kisses him back, gently, but thorough and lingering.

Wei Wuxian shivers, sinking into the kiss as if into a warm bath. When they drift apart, he does not press for more; only sighs, in soft contentment, and rests his head on Lan Zhan's shoulder.

His headache is diminishing. His eyes still burn, but no fresh tears seem to be arriving. Should he try to sleep? The coffee, limited though it was, has not entirely worn off yet.

"Are you tired?" he asks. He runs one hand lightly up and down Wei Ying's arm, holding him comfortably in the curve of his other arm.

"Mm. A little," he says, with the smallest shrug -- nothing that would disturb Lan Zhan's embrace. "I suppose I should try to sleep."

He nudges Lan Zhan, lightly.

"And so should you. You did not even have any coffee to help you stay awake this whole night!"

"If you wish," he says, mildly. "Your gift can wait until tomorrow."

He blinks. Slowly, his eyebrows rise.

"I have even more gifts waiting for me?"

“Of course,” he says, just as mildly as before.

"Lan Zhan."

His small smile begins to grow, as he pokes Lan Zhan in the side with one fingertip.

"You know that I am too curious for my own good. Now that you have said that, I cannot help but ask."

“Mn,” he says, untroubled by the poking. “Wait.”

He presses a kiss to Wei Ying’s hair and gets up. Lan Wangji crosses the room and retrieves a cloth-wrapped package from behind the privacy screen, where it rests on the chest, and brings it back to him.

Wei Wuxian's eyes -- still red-rimmed, a little, from his earlier tears -- light up at the sight.

"What could this be?" he says with a laugh, accepting the bundle. It feels soft, a little heavier than he expected, and takes up most of his lap when he settles crosslegged to unwrap it.

“Open it and see.” He watches as the wrappings fall away and the contents are revealed. The shop had done well in their packaging and folding, as they had in their crafting.

The winter-weight outer robes are made of heavy, lustrous silk dyed the deepest black possible, such that the natural patterns in the fabric pick up the light and play like shadows over its surface. In contrast, the deep red inner robe is of pure, fine silk, soft to the touch and a caress against the skin.

Wei Wuxian pulls in a quick breath, staring in wonder at the robes.

"Lan Zhan..." He skates his fingers over the silk, watching the light shift and turn to shadow as he presses down on the fabric. He has not held robes this fine (Lan Zhan's excluded!) in years, let alone owned them. He brushes the collar of the outer robe aside to get a better look at the inner robe, and before he realizes it, his smile has grown so large that his cheeks ache.

He looks up.

"These are incredible. Where did you find them?"

“I had them made,” he murmurs, watching him with a fond smile. “To your measure.”

His eyes widen. And no one questioned you? he wants to ask -- for surely someone would have had questions if Hanguang-jun swept into a shop to commission a set of robes so like the Yiling Patriarch used to wear.

Then again... who would dare to question Hanguang-jun, when such a revered figure chose to grace their shop?

Still.

Without hesitation, he throws his arms around Lan Zhan again, hugging him tight.

He kisses his temple, his cheek, his hair, as he holds him close.

“Happy birthday.”

"My Lan Zhan." He tips his head up to kiss him properly. "You extraordinary man. Thank you."

Beaming anew, he glances to the robes.

"Now I will always be warm if we walk together in the snow."

“Mn.” He sounds satisfied. “I will get you a new outer robe for summer-weight, too, when it is time.”

He shifts one arm, shaking something out of his sleeve, and sets another small wrapped package the size of his hand in Wei Ying’s lap.

As if his eyes could not grow any wider!

"Lan Zhan. Another one?" he exclaims. "How many presents have you stashed away in those layers of yours?"

He scoops up the gift and starts to unwrap it.

As he does, a fine hair comb of pure white jade is revealed, carved with a cloud and lotus motif.

Lan Wangji just watches Wei Ying’s face, and waits.

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