#i kind of want to write the sequel to this

@hellokyochan​ requested:

The bed had at least been big, which was a consolation to Wei Wuxian when he realized there was only the one. Lan Zhan of course offered to sleep on the floor, but that was a waste of a perfectly good mattress. It’s only a couple of nights for a dumb professional conference, and when your company won’t pay for your hotel (seriously, screw Wen Enterprises), you make do with a roommate. And Lan Zhan’s an easy roommate: he’s neat, he doesn’t get drunk, he doesn’t hit on women and then drag them back to the hotel room and leave a condescending note on the door. He’s really the ideal partner for situations like this.

What Wei Wuxian hadn’t counted on, though he really thought he had exhausted every possibility, was the way Lan Zhan looks when he’s asleep.

It’s morning, rays of sunlight drifting over the bed, and Wei Wuxian is lying on his side, utterly fascinated. They’ve drifted closer in their sleep, Lan Zhan all of a sudden so near to him, and Wei Wuxian is marveling at the shape of his lips, the way his eyebrows have relaxed from their usual scowl. The soft noises he makes, half-asleep, a puff of breath and a murmur.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s handsome awake – anyone with working eyes can see that – but asleep, with his guard down, he’s the most beautiful thing Wei Wuxian has seen in years. His hair is a waterfall of shining black, illuminated with the sun’s rays, and his eyelashes are delicate splashes of the same dark water. His skin is pale with only a hint of rose. He’s like a painting. But he’s real, and he’s here and oh so defenseless. Wei Wuxian is overwhelmed by the desire to touch.

He lifts his hand and inches, slow, toward Lan Zhan’s chin. The heat radiates into his fingers. So close – two fingers just shy of the line of his jaw –

– and Lan Zhan stirs. Wei Wuxian snatches his hand back, clamps it tightly at his side. He should probably look away, too, but he can’t quite tear his eyes from Lan Zhan’s lips as they purse, then part – just barely part, as though dreaming of a kiss.

Bleary golden eyes open, then blink. His pupils grow, then shrink, trying to find focus.

“Wei… Ying?” he says. His brows narrow into a frown.

Damn, he’s been caught looking. Wei Wuxian gives his most innocent smile. “Hi.”

“Am I … dreaming?” Lan Zhan’s voice is hesitant and hoarse. It almost doesn’t sound like him. He still can’t quite focus on Wei Wuxian’s face. His confusion is almost pitiful-looking, and Wei Wuxian wants to laugh.

He almost says no, but a wicked idea flashes through him. “Yes,” he says, “this is a dream.”

He expects Lan Zhan to maybe say “oh,” and fall back asleep, or scowl and tell him he knows he’s awake, but that’s not what happens.

Instead, the corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth turn up, and he reaches out.

“Good dream,” he says, and pulls Wei Wuxian into his arms.

All of a sudden Wei Wuxian’s face is pressed into Lan Zhan’s shoulder and his heart is drumming wildly. He can’t even struggle. What is happening? Lan Zhan is … holding him?

Lan Zhan is holding him. In strong arms, warm arms, and Wei Wuxian’s brain is humming with so many possibilities all at once. Is Lan Zhan thinking he’s someone else? Does he just get hug-happy in his dreams? Does he think he’s having one of those weird dreams where you’re with someone you don’t like in real life?  Is he still really asleep?

Or does he really dream about Wei Wuxian?

“Lan Zhan,” he starts to say, but can Lan Zhan even hear him? His head is buried in Lan Zhan’s shoulder, and he’s being held too tightly to pull away. He really needs to struggle. He should struggle. He should find some damn willpower and pull himself out of Lan Zhan’s arms and pretend the whole thing was just a joke.

Then he feels the press of lips against his hair. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs. The low sound rumbles right into Wei Wuxian’s bones. God, even his bones are warm right now, all of him is warm and wanting, and his hands still itch to touch Lan Zhan’s skin.

“Lan Zhan,” he tries again, “Lan Zhan, wake up, this isn’t a dream…”

“My Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, a louder voice now, like he’s protecting Wei Wuxian against a horde of admirers, like he’s claiming his territory. His lips touch Wei Wuxian’s hairline. Now his temple. Now the patch of skin next to his ear. Lan Zhan’s hands are tight on his back, unyielding.

Lan Zhan whispers next to his ear. “Don’t wake me up.”

His breaths are glancing against Wei Wuxian’s face now, soft and warm, and Wei Wuxian has never in his life wanted to be kissed the way he wants Lan Zhan to kiss him now. His hands ball into fists, clutching the folds of Lan Zhan’s T-shirt, and he lifts his head, yearning.

“This is a dream?” Lan Zhan asks again, in a voice that says he’s coming to. He lowers his head so their foreheads touch, eyes only half-open. Wei Wuxian looks at him, looks at the inscrutable emotion in those half-lidded eyes, and all of his control melts into nothingness.

“Yes,” he whispers halfway to Lan Zhan’s lips, “you’re dreaming.”

Lan Zhan’s lips are achingly soft against his.

Lan Zhan is trembling, shoulders wracked with shudders, and Wei Wuxian can’t believe it. This is Lan Zhan? This is the man whose very existence is all about control? He’s shaking against Wei Wuxian’s hands, breathing short, and – and – and kissing him back, oh so slow and sweet, kisses like honey and champagne that make Wei Wuxian dizzy.

They kiss, and they stop and breathe, and they kiss again. Heat is curling in Wei Wuxian’s core, but it’s lazy heat, and he’s content to just feel it. One of Lan Zhan’s hands rises to touch his face, a gentle palm, and it’s grounding. The sureness of it. The steadiness of Lan Zhan that keeps them both in the dream.

And then, all at once, it’s over.

Lan Zhan pulls away, blinks twice. His eyes widen. He pulls backward on the bed, then bolts up to sit, one hand clapped over his mouth.

Wei Wuxian props himself up on one elbow. He’s still getting his bearings after being kissed half to death. “Ah, Lan Zhan,” he complains, wanting that warmth back.

Lan Zhan takes in the sight of him, lifts his eyes to where the sunlight is streaming in the window, looks away. He forces his hand down to his side. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words short and clipped.

“No, no, it was my fault,” Wei Wuxian says. “I told you you were dreaming.”

Lan Zhan is unmoving and unspeaking. There’s a rose tint at his ear, but his face is deathly pale.

Wei Wuxian sits up to meet him face-to-face. “Lan Zhan,” he says, suddenly gripped by shame for what he’s done, “please don’t worry about it. I was just having some fun. I won’t tell anyone.”

His answer is a shake of the head and a deeper flush on the shell of Lan Zhan’s ear. He’s really upset, and Wei Wuxian’s spitballing now, just trying to find the right words that will lift the anchor of awkwardness that’s holding them both down. “Look,” he says, “look, we’ll just pretend nothing happened. Like it never happened.”

More stony silence.

“Ummm…. help me out here, Lan Zhan, I’m running out of ideas.” Wei Wuxian throws up his hands. “Would it help if I said I liked it?”

Lan Zhan turns, abruptly, and stares at him with wide eyes.

A reaction, thank goodness! Wei Wuxian smiles, but it’s a shaky smile, and he can’t keep it steady. “You either like that idea or you really hate it. Lan Zhan, please say something, because I’m not sure if you’re going to kiss me again or challenge me to a duel.”

“You…” When Lan Zhan speaks, it’s always poetry – straightforward, unwavering, truth. But he’s tripping over his own words now, like his tongue’s made of lead. Seeing him like this makes Wei Wuxian’s heart flutter in his throat. “You liked it?”

“Well, of course,” Wei Wuxian says. He knows he sounds carefree and light, but he feels the weight of the words as they come out. “I’m bi as hell, and you’re hot as hell, in what universe would I not enjoy kissing you?”

Lan Zhan keeps looking at him with that incredulous stare that might equally be horror and excitement. “You’d enjoy…?”

“Okay, Lan Zhan, I get that you’re still groggy or whatever, but get with the program here,” Wei Wuxian chides him. “Number one: you’re hot. Number two: I liked kissing you. You get to tell me what number three is.”

They’re sitting up in bed side by side and Lan Zhan is staring at him and Wei Wuxian is grinning because that’s his go-to expression when he has no idea what’s going on (which is right now), and Wei Wuxian is a little afraid they’re going to be frozen like this for a solid half-hour before either of them can think of anything else coherent to say.

Frozen, and then without a single breath of warning Lan Zhan’s hands are on his face and Lan Zhan’s lips are on his again.

This time it’s hot, and it’s possessive, and Wei Wuxian’s gasping against Lan Zhan’s mouth, breathless and wrecked. How long has Lan Zhan felt this way about him? The question flickers in his mind, then sputters out and all he can do is hang on for dear life as Lan Zhan kisses him deep and rough, like he’s been dying for it. Lan Zhan’s tongue strokes his and it’s all Wei Wuxian can do not to go up in flames right there.

Lan Zhan tries to shift, to push him down onto the bed, but Wei Wuxian breaks free, laughing, and resists. “Please, Lan Zhan. Let’s at least go on a date first. Okay?”

Lan Zhan tries to slow his breathing. “Okay.”  

Wei Wuxian smiles and darts in to peck him on the lips. “Let’s start with breakfast?” he says.

“Breakfast,” Lan Zhan echoes. He seems to be slowly pulling himself together. “Yes.”

They dress and head down the hall side by side toward the elevators. As they descend to the lobby, Lan Zhan slips his hand into Wei Wuxian’s. When Wei Wuxian looks at him, he sees soft eyes and the barest hint of a smile. His heart stutters.

Maybehe’s the one who’s dreaming.