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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"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.

A soft oh escapes him. He touches his hand to his mouth, staring.

When he finally looks up, still speechless, his eyes are bright with tears again -- but oh, his smile.

That smile lights his world and warms him more than any flame. He leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet.

Wei Wuxian returns the kiss, cradling Lan Zhan's cheek, hardly able to stop smiling even as their lips meet and part, meet and part.

"I love you," he whispers against his mouth. "Lan Zhan, ah. My Lan Zhan."

"And I you," he murmurs, between kisses. "My Wei Ying."

When they finally drift apart, Wei Wuxian smooths his hand over Lan Zhan's hair, letting his thumb skate across his forehead ribbon.

"First you let me touch your ribbon," he says, with soft laughter. "Now you gift me a comb. We will be married outright at this rate, eh?"

"Mn."

He can feel it as his ears flush bright red.

Wei Wuxian's laughter is a bit louder now.

"You are adorable when you blush," he says, cheerily unrepentant, and strokes a fingertip over the shell of Lan Zhan's ear before dropping a kiss there.

He shivers a little at the touch.

"Would you want that?" he asks, almost too quiet to hear. "To be married to me?"

Wei Wuxian stills.

It feels very quiet all of a sudden, like the inn itself has held its breath as it listens for his response. As if he has stepped into a field of freshly-fallen snow, wide and white and hushed, the path waiting only for him to step forward and make his mark on this changed, quiet world.

He thinks: but I am dead.

He thinks: that would not be fair to you, to bind yourself so tightly to a ghost.

And yet he cannot hear anything but his heart, singing like the softest chimes on a breeze: yes, yes, yes.

"I would," he whispers. "How could I ever love another as I love you? You are my heart, Lan Zhan. You always will be."

He gathers Wei Ying into his arms and hugs him tightly, as everything within him soars with love and joy.

"And you are mine. You have been for years. You will be forever."

The stillness dissolves into a radiant light, brighter and warmer than the sun, coursing through him until it bubbles up in another joyous laugh. He clings tight to Lan Zhan, fingers wound into his hair, so buoyant he thinks he might float away if he lets go.

"Yes," he says. "Yes. Always, Lan Zhan -- "

Only for his earlier thoughts to throw a shadow over the light. He cups the back of Lan Zhan's head; pulls away enough to meet his eyes, searching.

"But to marry a ghost. You would... Lan Zhan, is that all right? It will not harm you?"

"It has not yet," he says, simply.

Wei Wuxian sputters, his whole countenance brightening again.

"I suppose it hasn't," he agrees, as prim as he can, before catching Lan Zhan's mouth in another kiss.

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