Archive of Our Own

They've worked together for just over two years, and despite Wei Ying's reputation as a chaos agent, Lan Zhan has learned that he is in fact a remarkably talented cultivator who approaches the job with all seriousness. He's not cavalier about how he works: he takes appropriate precautions, he is as thorough as he is quick in his assessment of situations, and he has saved Lan Zhan's life more than once in the line of duty.

Lan Zhan trusts him with his life, because Lan Zhan has trusted him with his life. Wei Ying has never been found wanting.

He watches now as Wei Ying skulks around the abandoned building, gravel from where the walls had crumbled crunching under his big boots. They were standard issue for the cultivation teams, only Wei Ying has exchanged the regular laces for ones with pink skulls on them. He has his long hair pulled up in a high ponytail that still dangles halfway down his back. Modern cultivators, more often than not, eschew the traditional long hair style, and it's yet another thing that makes Wei Ying different from most.

Lan Zhan maintains the traditional style as well. But Lan Zhan is, of course, a Lan, and his family is known for their dedication to traditional techniques and customs. Wei Ying is known for a rogue approach to cultivation. He's judged for his unorthodox techniques but he gets the job done. The talismans and gadgets that he has invented have been grudgingly accepted by the cultivation community. They are, in fact, so good that they've become the standard of best practices in the cultivation world.

Lan Zhan had been dubious when Wei Ying had been assigned as his field partner, but never because he doubted his skills.

It strikes him as funny, now, that he'd ever been concerned that they would not get along.

"Back here," Wei Ying says, gesturing for Lan Zhan to come over. "I think I can get the lock to—yeah." The padlock on a door in the back room the back room slides free as the wood of the door crumbles under Wei Ying's hands. Their eyes lock for a moment, and then Wei Ying pushes the door open and eases into the room, talisman at the ready between his fingers.

"Oh," he says softly, taking a few steps in. "It's a cultivation chamber."

Lan Zhan is beside him, moving carefully to the other side of the doorway. They both scan the room, but it's quiet. No movement and, when Lan Zhan focuses inward, no immediate threat level. There's a definite edge of power imbued throughout, but it feels quiet, inert. And like—

"Old power," Wei Ying says, carefully nudging an item on what had clearly been a workbench. "Really old. It feels..." He frowns, stepping forward, bending down to get closer to the work surface. "Lan Zhan, do you feel that?"

"I don't feel anyth—"

There's an explosion of—Lan Zhan is not even sure. His body is reacting like it's a sharp burst of light, heat, smoke, sound, but it's really none of those things. It's power and Wei Ying is at the epicenter of it.

He can't move for too many seconds, he can't breathe, he can't see. He's been flung backwards by the strength of whatever it is, and by the time he manifests his guqin in front of him, all of it has already dissipated. He lurches forward, expecting to find Wei Ying hurt, injured, in a pile, possibly dead, but instead, Wei Ying is still standing, exactly where he was. His eyes are wide and unfocused and he looks disheveled. The surge of power appears to have hit him the way it had Lan Zhan: a physical sensation from a source that is purely spiritual.

Lan Zhan's hands reach out towards Wei Ying, but he freezes and forces himself to stop before touching him. "Wei Ying," he says carefully.

"Yeah?" Wei Ying's tone is absent, and his eyes are still focused in the far distance.

"Wei Ying," he says again, more intently. "Are you all right? Are you—" He stops and focuses his energy, scanning Wei Ying as best he can, trying to discern the negative energy that he's certain must be flowing through him, but—

"It's nothing," Wei Ying says, his voice still vague. "It's..." He snaps into focus, dragging his gaze to Lan Zhan's. His pupils are completely blown and he's biting the corner of his mouth like he's trying to force his attention back into place. "Lan Zhan, what the fuck was that?"

"What do you feel?" Lan Zhan's hands are still held out, but he's hesitant to touch Wei Ying, in case whatever hit him is a touch transfer spell.

"Weird," Wei Ying says after a pause. "I feel weird." He takes a step forward and his knees buckle. Lan Zhan moves to grab him, but Wei Ying waves him off, steadying himself on the counter. "Hang on, just let me..." He fumbles a talisman out of the pocket of his denim jacket, takes a breath, and casts it. There is, this time, an actual physical manifestation of a shower of glowing gold particles that whip around the room soundlessly and thoroughly. When Wei Ying holds out his hand, the energy comes back to him with a visible jolt, and this time Lan Zhan does have to reach out and steady him as he stumbles backwards.

"It's fine," Wei Ying says faintly. "I'm fine, it's not malicious, not exactly, but it's..." He jerks his eyes up to Lan Zhan's face. He's flushed now, and he pushes his hands back through his hair, trying to get it out of his face, knocking his ponytail half-out in the process. His pupils are still huge and his breath seems to be coming faster than before. "Lan Zhan, I need to...sit down, I think? Or, no, I—get me out of here. Get me out of here."

His voice gets fast, frantic, and Lan Zhan grabs his arm and guides him towards the door at the same time as he pulls his cell phone out and hits the button for the central agency.

"They have to lock it down," Wei Ying pants out, stumbling down the hallway beside him. It seems like it's taking them a very long time to get back to the front door. "Don't let them go in, they have to just—secure it. We'll need to—" He half falls down when they reach the doorway, and Lan Zhan finishes the call to the clean-up team, wrapping his arm more securely around Wei Ying and hauling him towards the car.

"Wen Qing," Lan Zhan says as he leans Wei Ying against the car. It's gotten dark out—how long were they in there? It felt like only a few minutes, but the late afternoon sunshine has slid alarmingly into dusk. He makes himself take a breath. He has to focus.

"No," Wei Ying gasps out. He doesn't seem to be able to catch his breath. Has the event—surely it's a curse, it's showing every sign of being a curse—affected his lungs? "No, god, please don't take me to the lab. I just—take me home. I have to get home."

"Wen Qing," Lan Zhan says again, more firmly. "She will be able to diagnose this." She's the strongest medical cultivator on the team. Lan Zhan already has his phone out to contact Wen Qing on the emergency line that calls her to the lab, no matter the time.

"No, please." Lan Zhan has pushed Wei Ying into the car and he's slumped back in the passenger seat, his eyes wide and frantic. "Lan Zhan," he says, clearly summoning all of his energy into the words. "Please trust me on this. Please. You have to take me home."

Lan Zhan looks at him, then shoves his phone into his pocket. He closes Wei Ying's door carefully and goes to get into the car. He sees the clean-up team arriving as he pulls out, and he knows he should stay to give a run-down, but Wei Ying is desperately muttering, "Home, please get me home," beside him. Lan Zhan drives as quickly as safety allows.

It's not a long ride to Wei Ying's apartment, but Lan Zhan's pulse has kicked up to a frantic degree. Wei Ying is very still beside him, his eyes closed, his lips tight, slumped in on himself. Lan Zhan parks the car and Wei Ying moans a little as it jerks to a halt. He makes no move to get out and Lan Zhan hurries around to his side, reaching in to ease him up and out of the car.

Wei Ying whines, clutching at Lan Zhan, his eyes still mostly closed as Lan Zhan levers him to his feet.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan can't help it. "Are you sure we shouldn't go to—"

Wei Ying's fingers dig in against Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Please just get me the fuck inside." He blinks his eyes open, tilting his head back to make eye contact. "Sorry. Sorry. Just—please."

Lan Zhan nods.

He gets them to the elevator, one arm around Wei Ying's waist, Wei Ying stumbling beside him but managing to keep his feet under him. The elevator takes forever to get to the lobby. Wei Ying seems to have again gotten lost in himself, his eyes shut, his fingers still tight against Lan Zhan's shoulder, his breath coming fast, his whole body held tight and tense.

The moment they're on the elevator and the doors close behind them, Wei Ying's head jerks up and he pants out, "Sorry, fuck, I'm so sorry," and he kisses Lan Zhan so hard that they both stumble back against the wall of the elevator.

Lan Zhan's hands are clenched against Wei Ying's shoulders. Wei Ying is kissing him. Wei Ying's tongue is in his mouth and he's pressed up against Lan Zhan and he can feel—

"It's the curse," Lan Zhan says, wrenching his mouth from Wei Ying's.

"It is." Wei Ying's arms are wrapped around Lan Zhan's neck, his mouth moving down Lan Zhan's neck now, sucking hard. "It is the curse. I'm sorry," he says, and then digs his teeth in.

Lan Zhan's hands tighten around Wei Ying's shoulders as he tenses his jaw so as to not make a sound. "It's okay," he says. "It's going to be okay." Wei Ying's mouth is on his neck and the feel of it is sending shudders throughout his body.

"It isn't," Wei Ying says, moving his mouth back up to Lan Zhan's. "I need you to fuck me." He slides his tongue back into Lan Zhan's mouth.

Lan Zhan's brain seems to stutter to a halt. Wei Ying wants him to—wants them to—

The elevator dings and the doors open and Wei Ying whimpers against Lan Zhan's lips.

Lan Zhan, feeling nearly as dazed as Wei Ying looks, pushes him forward. "Let's go," he urges.

"Please." Wei Ying stumbles back, jaw tight, eyes dark. "I need—"

"Let's go," Lan Zhan says again, his tone as urgent as he feels. It seems to get through to Wei Ying, who allows Lan Zhan to tug him out of the elevator and down the hall. Lan Zhan understands, now, why Wei Ying was so insistent about not going to the lab. "Keys," he says, and Wei Ying looks up at him helplessly.

Lan Zhan takes a breath and starts digging through Wei Ying's jacket pockets. Every time his fingers brush against Wei Ying, even though multiple layers of fabric, Wei Ying moans deep in his throat. His hands are moving restlessly over Lan Zhan's body and Lan Zhan is trying to focus on finding the keys and not on Wei Ying's fingers sliding into the waist of Lan Zhan's trousers, or Wei Ying's arousal pressing hard and obvious up against the front of his jeans.

He finally digs the key ring out from an inside jacket pocket and gets the door open. He wrangles Wei Ying inside and shuts the door behind them, turning the lock even as Wei Ying is pawing at him and whining.

Lan Zhan turns around and lets Wei Ying press him back against the door. Wei Ying kisses him, groaning against his mouth, and Lan Zhan holds him close while he tries to figure out what to do. The kissing seems to take the edge off for a moment: Wei Ying is still as hard against him as it's possible to be, but he's lost in it, his tongue stroking Lan Zhan's, shuddering as Lan Zhan runs his hands up and down Wei Ying's back.

Wei Ying needs this. Lan Zhan resolutely tries to stuff down how much he wants this. How much he's wanted this. This isn't about what he wants. It's about Wei Ying being under a curse. It's about Lan Zhan being here to keep Wei Ying safe. He's glad it's him—ruthlessly glad, because he doesn't want Wei Ying to be this vulnerable in front of anybody else.

"Come here," he says, pushing Wei Ying backwards. "Come with me."

Wei Ying can't seem to keep his hands away from Lan Zhan, plucking at his clothes, pushing his jacket back off his shoulders, sliding his hands under his shirt even as Lan Zhan guides them to Wei Ying's bedroom. He flips on the bedside lamp, revealing Wei Ying's bed—unmade, blankets and sheets tangled together. He turns to Wei Ying, who is sweating, his pupils blown. He's hard against Lan Zhan's hip and his fingers are doing everything to worm further inside his clothes. "I need," he pants. "I need, I just need—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't—god, Lan Zhan, I need you. I need you."

It's the way he says you that makes Lan Zhan's decision for him. He knows it's the curse, he knows that Wei Ying needs sex, not sex with Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan is here, and he's safe, and he'll take care of Wei Ying the way he wouldn't trust anyone else to.

When he says, "Wei Ying," pulling back to look him in the eye, the noise Wei Ying makes is profoundly arousing, and profoundly relieved.

"Please," he says, tugging at Lan Zhan's clothes. "Please, please, I need—please."

"I have you," Lan Zhan says.

"Oh thank god." Wei Ying's eyes are pure pupil and he's trembling as he surges up against Lan Zhan. When he reaches down and presses his hand over the front of Lan Zhan's pants and finds him hard, he whimpers. "Yes, god, yes. I need you to fuck me. Please fuck me. I need it. I need it. I need—"

Lan Zhan strips him out of his clothes. He tries to keep it clinical. He fails. Wei Ying is beautiful and each part of him that is exposed is sending sparks of arousal throughout Lan Zhan's body. Wei Ying makes little noises of desperation the entire time, biting his lip like the draw of the fabric against his skin hurts. It takes too long, because Wei Ying can't stop kissing Lan Zhan, letting his mouth drop to his neck, his arm, whatever part of him he can reach as Lan Zhan works to get his clothes off.

When he's done, Wei Ying tries to drag Lan Zhan immediately onto the bed. Lan Zhan strips his own clothes off much more quickly, by virtue of pushing Wei Ying onto the bed. "Touch yourself," he says roughly.

Wei Ying's eyes light up at the command and he falls back, his hand wrapping around his cock, which is hard enough to look actually painful. When he strokes it, he writhes, his head pressed back against the bed, his hips lifting up so he's fucking his own fist.

Lan Zhan steps neatly out of his trousers, leaving them pooled on the floor, and crawls up over Wei Ying.

"Yes, fuck, yes." Wei Ying can't seem to let go of his own cock, but when Lan Zhan drags his hand away and drops down against him, he cries out and shoves up against him, again, and again.

Lan Zhan half expects him to come immediately but Wei Ying is making small, desperate sounds again. "It's not enough," he pants out, his hands like steel around Lan Zhan's hips as he drags him closer, harder. "It's not...I need—fuck, I need more, I need—"

He opens his eyes and they're shiny like he's about to cry. His jaw is tight and he's rutting desperately up against Lan Zhan.

"I have you," Lan Zhan says. "Let me—do you have—"

"No condoms," Wei Ying says frantically. "I need you to—it has to be like this. It has to be, it has to be—"

Lan Zhan sets that part aside for a moment, letting it roll around in the back of his brain while he runs a soothing hand down Wei Ying's side. "Lube?" he says softly.

Wei Ying flings one hand towards the bedside table, half scrambling to get to it, but when the movement drags his cock up against Lan Zhan's, he falls back against the bed, making a sound that is almost a sob.

Lan Zhan is able to reach the drawer without shifting away from Wei Ying—lack of contact seems to cause Wei Ying pain and he will not allow that. If this is what Wei Ying needs, then Lan Zhan is—well, to be perfectly honest, Lan Zhan is nearly as hard as Wei Ying is and he's not the one who's been cursed. He hates that he wants this as badly as Wei Ying does. He wishes he could be clinical about it, but he can help Wei Ying. He can do what Wei Ying so desperately needs. And he can compartmentalize his own desires.

He finds the lube, and when Wei Ying sees it, he moans and struggles under Lan Zhan, pushing himself over onto his stomach with some difficulty. "Quick," he says. "Quick, god, please, now."

He's pushing himself up onto his knees a little, his back soaked with sweat. He can't seem to get fully up to his knees, but his legs are splayed and his fists are clenched in the sheets. When Lan Zhan presses one hand against his side, trying to soothe, he shudders and his fists clench more tightly. "Hnnrgh."

The sound he makes against the sheets spurs Lan Zhan into swifter action. He spills lube on his fingers, probably more than is necessary, and slides a finger into Wei Ying. He doesn't let himself hesitate, which seems to be for the best, as Wei Ying opens up shockingly easily for him and immediately shoves his hips back.

"More," Wei Ying grits out. "Not enough."

Lan Zhan does make him wait—he's not going to risk hurting him—but not too long. When Wei Ying is shoving back against him again, and again, Lan Zhan adds another finger. This earns him a drawn-out sigh of relief, and Wei Ying sags a little against the bed, groaning. "Good," he says, almost slurring it against the sheets. "That, and can you just—"

Lan Zhan can. He can get deeper with two fingers and he drives them in, harder than he had before, and faster. The sounds Wei Ying keeps making are going directly to his cock, but he resolutely ignores it, concentrating instead on the movement of Wei Ying's body under him, how he rocks back against his fingers, small sounds coming out of his throat every time he drives in deep. He can't believe he's getting to do this, getting to see Wei Ying like this. He's still half in shock that it's happening, even as he's pushing his fingers into Wei Ying again, and again.

"It's enough," Wei Ying says, frantically. "It's enough, I need you to—"

Lan Zhan doesn't answer, but he does spill more lube over his fingers and add a third. He's not going to take any chances. He's not sure he'll be able to hold back once he's inside Wei Ying—possibly under any circumstances, but certainly not with the constant demands that keep spilling out of Wei Ying's mouth. He works his fingers into Wei Ying steadily, and his body opens up to him even more. Wei Ying has his mouth pressed against the sheets, panting and shoving his hips back against Lan Zhan. His mantra of, "Please, please, please, please," is constant and desperate.

Throughout, Lan Zhan is considering the question of the condom. Wei Ying literally begging to be taken like this, begging to feel it, and the frantic way he'd said it makes Lan Zhan feel like that's important in order to break the curse. That fundamental question has been rolling around in the back of his head this whole time, too: what is the curse about? Sex, obviously, but also something more basic than that. Human touch. Desperation. Skin-to-skin contact. He hasn't quite worked it out yet—distracted by Wei Ying writhing under him, by having three fingers deep inside Wei Ying, by trying to decide about the condom and safety issue.

He knows Wei Ying is safe, because he had a scare a few months ago after the man he was dating had cheated on him. He'd spent quite some time making Lan Zhan go over the report he'd gotten from the doctor, assuring him that he was fine. Lan Zhan knows that he, himself, is safe. He knows it for a fact, because one, he gets tested regularly but two, he hasn't been with anyone in over a year.

What he doesn't know is if Wei Ying can consent to just taking his word for it when he's in this condition. "Wei Ying," he says cautiously.

"Now," Wei Ying is chanting. "Now, please, now."

Lan Zhan pulls his fingers out of him and the moan Wei Ying gives makes his cock jerk. "I tested negative at my last appointment, and there has been no one since—"

Wei Ying lets out a strangled sob and pushes himself up onto his knees and backwards, until he's practically in Lan Zhan's lap, Lan Zhan's cock pressed up tightly against his ass, sliding in between his soft cheeks where it's slick with lube.

Lan Zhan takes a deep breath and centers his cock, pushing in.

Wei Ying lets out a ringing yell, as Lan Zhan determinedly slides all the way in. They both gasp as he grinds against Wei Ying, letting him know that he's here, he's here.

Wei Ying sobs in relief as Lan Zhan fucks him. At first, he's pushing his hips back to meet Lan Zhan's thrusts but as it goes on, he lets Lan Zhan hold his hips and drive into him. "I need," he's saying, still sounding slurred, like he's too caught up with the driving need of his body and can't spend time on making coherent words. "I need—Lan Zhan, like that, you can go—harder, you can go harder, you have to—"

Lan Zhan can, and does. He fucks him as hard as he possibly can, letting himself get lost in the rhythm of it, because Wei Ying seems to need that as much as he apparently needs to be fucked through the mattress. He keeps saying Lan Zhan's name, even as his face is pressed against the sheets, even as he trembles underneath him. Like he's making sure of him. When Lan Zhan reaches around, intending to stroke Wei Ying to a much-needed orgasm, Wei Ying intercepts his hand, grasping it and hanging on tight. He presses it to the mattress next to him, drawing Lan Zhan down closer, until Lan Zhan is up against him, fucking him still, but with less vigor, more...intimacy.

It makes Lan Zhan's breath catch in his throat. It makes him grind into Wei Ying as hard as he can. It makes him, in the next moment, come so unexpectedly that all he can do is dig his teeth into Wei Ying's shoulder as he comes so hard his hands go numb. He comes for a long time—it rolls through him in waves, and he feels dizzy by the time he's done.

Wei Ying is limp beneath him. Lan Zhan takes a breath and pulls out with as much care as possible, bracing himself up before shifting over onto his side. After a moment, Wei Ying manages to turn over onto his side as well. His cock is soft, and there is a large wet spot beneath him where he'd clearly climaxed without needing Lan Zhan's hand on him. "F-fuck." Wei Ying is blinking up at him with hazy eyes. His hair is a sweaty mess and he has two bright spots of color high on his cheeks. He looks—and sounds—dazed. "Oh god." He stops, swallows, and slides back down so he's flat on his belly against the bed. He makes a face. "I can't—I can't even move all the way out of the wet spot." He laughs, a little hysterically. "But it's my wet spot, so I guess...it's okay?"

"Wei Ying, are you all right?" Lan Zhan wants to reach forward and sweep his hair back out of his eyes, but it feels too intimate. He understands that makes little sense after what they have just done with each other, but the feeling is there nonetheless.

Wei Ying nods his head, but his gaze is still very far away, and he seems to be having a little bit of trouble catching his breath. "Yeah," he says. "I think so. I think—actually, I don't know." He shivers and, again, Lan Zhan resists the urge to pull him close, to wrap his arms around him and hold him until he is warm and calm.

Instead, he lets his head rest against the bed as well, so he's on a level with Wei Ying.

Wei Ying blinks his eyes open and looks at him. "Fuck, Lan Zhan," he says, his voice a little gravelly. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Lan Zhan says. "I..." He doesn't quite know the right thing to say here. The truth—the truth is that he enjoyed it, possibly more than he should have.

"It felt...necessary." Wei Ying bites his lip, his entire expression both thoughtful and conflicted. Like he's working this through with his investigative mind, but can't quite solve it.

Lan Zhan has a sudden, visceral memory of the sound Wei Ying had made as he slid inside him. He feels himself flush and his cock gives a twitch. He makes himself focus on Wei Ying.

"Like I couldn't stop asking for it," Wei Ying says, miserably.

"Asking for help," Lan Zhan points out.

Wei Ying's gaze is heavy on his. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here," he says. "Everything inside me needed—like, I had to have it and if I didn't, I felt like I might—" He cuts himself off and shivers again.

All Lan Zhan has to do is not try to stop the movement—he lets it happen this time, his hand reaching out to rest on Wei Ying's arm, where it's covered with goosebumps. He runs his hand up and down.

Wei Ying sighs, then lets out a wet laugh, almost a sob. "That feels so good." He shifts closer, burying his face against Lan Zhan's chest.

Lan Zhan's whole body goes hot at once, and he wraps his arm around Wei Ying, bringing him closer.

"It's a curse, right?" Wei Ying's voice is muffled against his chest. His hair, messy and wild, is in Lan Zhan's face. It smells like sweat, and like Wei Ying's cherry shampoo. Lan Zhan presses his lips against it. "It's a curse, we know that. We just have to—we have to just figure it out and..."

His voice trails off and Lan Zhan is thinking that they do have to approach this scientifically, to determine if the curse will have any lasting effects. They should probably take Wei Ying into the lab, where the have the equipment to—

He feels the soft, wet heat of Wei Ying's tongue against his neck a moment before Wei Ying is sucking on it. It's a jolt through his body and when Wei Ying digs his teeth in, Lan Zhan can't control the ragged moan that comes from somewhere deep inside.

"Oh," Wei Ying says, quietly, against his skin. "Oh, fuck, yeah." Lan Zhan can feel him, hard again, his cock pressed up against Lan Zhan's hip. Wei Ying is shifting forward into Lan Zhan's space, until Lan Zhan rolls onto his back. Wei Ying climbs on top of him immediately.

"It's happening," Wei Ying says roughly, licking up the line of Lan Zhan's neck to his jaw. "Again."

Lan Zhan shudders underneath him and Wei Ying bites out a moan and grinds down against him. "Can you," he says, his voice catching. "Can you—oh fuck, I'm sorry, Lan Zhan, I'm so sorry—can you get it up again? Can you—"

Lan Zhan is already half-hard. He'd feel ashamed from getting turned on by what is so clearly something out of Wei Ying's control, but Wei Ying's words, Wei Ying's need, Wei Ying's mouth... "I can," he says. "Soon."

Wei Ying bites his lip, hard, and moans desperately. He's looking at Lan Zhan and his expression is, again, verging on frantic.

"If you need to—" He can't quite bring himself to say it, but if the curse means that Wei Ying needs to achieve climax, he can—"I can use my mouth. I'll—" He starts to move down, but Wei Ying is shaking his head.

"No," he says. "No, that's not—no, I need—oh fuck." He's still humping up against Lan Zhan, his cock leaking streaks of pre-come against Lan Zhan's hip.

Lan Zhan will examine how that feeling makes his own cock get harder later.

Wei Ying clutches at Lan Zhan, burying his face against his chest again and laughing somewhat hysterically, even as he's moving his hand down to wrap around Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan breathes in sharply and can't help moving his hips forward, sliding his cock—even harder now—into Wei Ying's grip.

"Fuck," Wei Ying says thickly. "I need to—uhhh, oh god—make it clear that this is a this-time thing. That if—fuck, fuck—you tell me later that I said no to your mouth on my dick, I'd—I'd fucking lose my mind."

Lan Zhan is nearly fully hard now, Wei Ying's hand hot and determined around him as he strokes him. He can't catch his breath.

"I want your mouth." Wei Ying is moving his mouth up Lan Zhan's jaw again, like he can't stop, his teeth biting it just a little. "I think about your mouth." He slides up further, kissing Lan Zhan, open-mouthed and wet. "I jerk off to the idea of your mouth and—fuck." He jerks his gaze up to Lan Zhan's. "Shut me up, Lan Zhan." He sounds almost scared. "Shut me up, I need to stop talking. I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, please fuck me."

He jerks himself away from Lan Zhan, letting go of his cock and sprawling onto his back. He spreads his legs wide and he's reaching out for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan has moved far past hard to feeling nearly as desperate as Wei Ying. Wei Ying, talking about his mouth, is that—does he—

He needs to focus. Wei Ying is making small, desperate sounds. Everything between his legs is still slick, with lube, with Lan Zhan's come. Lan Zhan still fumbles for the lube, while Wei Ying whines and wraps his legs around him, unsteady and graceless. When Lan Zhan's cock is slick, he doesn't make either of them wait. He pulls Wei Ying's legs up over his shoulders—the sound Wei Ying makes when he does it wrenches through the heart of him—and slides in all the way in one smooth motion. Wei Ying is still open for Lan Zhan.

It's slower this time—once Lan Zhan is in him, Wei Ying seems to want to keep him there. He holds him deep inside, his thighs tense, his head thrown back, his whole body clenching around Lan Zhan.

"Like that," Wei Ying breathes out, as Lan Zhan rocks into him. "Just stay, like that, just keep—just keep—" He moans, again and again, with each movement. "I—I—" He blinks his eyes open, staring up at Lan Zhan, his jaw tense, his pupils pure black. "Like that," he says, biting out the words. "I'm—" He pushes his hand in between them, barely getting it on his cock before he jerks and comes, spilling in between them.

His body gets even tighter around Lan Zhan's cock, but he's too lost in the sheer beauty of Wei Ying's face as he writhes with his release. Even when he's done, he's clutching at Lan Zhan, surprisingly strong after all of his exertions. "Don't stop," he's saying, "Don't stop, don't—ah, like that, deep, I—"

Lan Zhan fucks him, staying deep inside, for a long time. He fucks him until Wei Ying comes again, shuddering underneath him weakly. He fucks him until Wei Ying is limp underneath him, his legs nearly sliding off of his shoulders. He fucks him until Wei Ying is muttering under his breath, intense and frantic and necessary, "Now, now, fuck, now, I want to feel you, I want to feel it, I want—"

Lan Zhan pulls nearly all the way out and then pushes back in, stays deep as something throbs inside him and he comes so hard his head drops forward and he can't stop himself from pressing his mouth against Wei Ying's throat as he moans through his climax.

"Good," he hears Wei Ying saying faintly. "That's good, that's—" Wei Ying's hand comes up to curve around the back of Lan Zhan's head, holding him there as Lan Zhan goes soft inside him.

Wei Ying is falling asleep, possibly even as Lan Zhan eases his legs off his shoulders. He mumbles something incoherent and rolls over to press his face into the pillow. When Lan Zhan shifts to the side, he reaches out with one hand blindly, latching on to Lan Zhan's wrist. "Don't go," he mumbles. "Stay here, okay? We need to—we need—"

When Lan Zhan settles his arm over Wei Ying, Wei Ying immediately curls up against him with a soft sigh and goes limp, his breath slow and even against Lan Zhan's chest.

Lan Zhan stares up at the ceiling. His heart is still pounding. He should get up and get a washcloth, at the very least, and try to clean them both up. But Wei Ying is a dead weight against him and Lan Zhan doesn't want to wake him. What he'd just been through seemed almost painful and all Lan Zhan can hope is that the curse has run its course. They'll need to look into it more fully, but that's something for tomorrow. For now, he reaches out and fumbles the bedside lamp off. The room is plunged into darkness and it's a relief—the sensory overload Lan Zhan has experienced in the last few hours is nothing next to what Wei Ying has gone through, but even he feels stripped raw.

His brain whirls in the darkness for a while, tracing over the feeling of being deep inside Wei Ying; over the sounds Wei Ying made as he fucked him; over the feel of Wei Ying now, soft against him and breathing quietly in the darkness.

He doesn't remember falling asleep—he feels like he went from wide-awake to deeply dreaming. He wakes up to Wei Ying kissing him urgently, the room a deeper darkness than it had been before. He's confused, still half-dreaming, not knowing what time it is, what day it is.

"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, kissing him again, frantic and deep. "I'm sorry, I just—please, again. Again. I need—fuck, fuck—I need—"

Lan Zhan apparently needs it, as well, because he's hard again, too. He slicks them both up, Wei Ying begging brokenly throughout. He draws Wei Ying close, Wei Ying pressed back against Lan Zhan, his leg flung back over Lan Zhan's hip as Lan Zhan fucks him. Lan Zhan lets himself press his lips against the side of Wei Ying's neck, feeling Wei Ying's moans rumble up through his throat. He fucks him slow and deep, until Wei Ying comes with a sigh. Lan Zhan drives into him two more times, spilling inside of him with a groan that seems to come from his soul.

They fall back asleep like that, tangled together, Wei Ying clasping Lan Zhan's hand against his chest.

The sunlight is spilling in through the shades they'd never closed the night before when Lan Zhan wakes up. It's bright and he blinks his eyes against it, surprised to have slept so far past his usual 5AM. He sees Wei Ying, awake, sitting up next to him, sheets pooled around him. He's watching Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan tries to blink himself more fully awake. "How are you feeling?" he asks. His voice comes out rough. He shifts and sits up and can't hide his wince. His whole body aches. He shoots a look at Wei Ying, who is still watching him with a rueful half-smile on his face.

"I know," he says, sympathetically. "I'm pretty sore, too."

All Lan Zhan can think is that that must be the understatement of the century. Lan Zhan's thighs are aching, his lower back complaining as he tries to find a comfortable position, his cock feeling...tender. Very tender.

He can only imagine what Wei Ying must be feeling.

"It's fine," Lan Zhan says. "Are you—that is, are you feeling..." He hesitates over the words for a moment. "Have the effects of the curse subsided?"

"Oh, I like that," Wei Ying says with another almost-smile. He looks like he's feeling almost...shy? It's not a look one sees on Wei Ying very often. Shameless is far more common. "That's a good way to put it. To answer your question, yes. I'm no longer desperate to be railed through the fucking mattress." He scratches the back of his head, where his usual high ponytail has long since fallen out and his hair is in utter disarray. "The weird thing—okay, one of the weird things—is that that's what it was," he says. "It wasn't just, like, me being horny." He puts his hand over his face, peeking at Lan Zhan through his fingers. "Though that was part of it, too," he says, like he's confessing something.

Lan Zhan nods, keeping his expression as neutral as he can.

"But it was—I didn't need to just get off." Wei Ying drops his hand to his lap again, though the color is still high in his cheeks. "I needed—like, really, specifically needed—to get fucked."

Lan Zhan clears his throat. "What else?" he says. "We should be—actually, we should go into the lab today, as soon as, ah, we are able." They both need to shower. They both need to shower very thoroughly. "We need to have you looked over. And we need to find out if there are any residual traces, though you think it's burned itself out? The curse?"

Wei Ying shifts again, winces. "Yeah," he says. "I feel...normal." He pauses, looking like he's assessing, his gaze turning inward. "I think?" He makes a face, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not desperately fucking horny anymore, at least." He eyes Lan Zhan. "Do you have experience with...sex curses? Have you, uh, dealt with anything like this before?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head.

"I didn't mean like that!" Wei Ying says hastily. "I didn't mean like last night, like what you—what I asked you to—" He cuts himself off, looking flushed and miserable. "I'm sorry, Lan Zhan." He sighs. "This whole thing is really embarrassing."

"You have no reason to be embarrassed," Lan Zhan says.

"I begged you to fuck me," Wei Ying says flatly. "Three times."

"You were under a curse," Lan Zhan says. "You were in pain. You needed my help. We are partners, Wei Ying. We watch out for each other."

Wei Ying huffs out a laugh. "That was so far outside the realm of watching out for a coworker, I can't even—fuck, I don't even know." He looks up at Lan Zhan. "Okay," he says. "You're right—not about the not being embarrassed thing, because god, Lan Zhan, that was literally the most embarrassing thing that has ever or will ever happen to me, and I'm not going to get over it any time soon."

Lan Zhan nods slowly. "I understand," he says. "But just allow me this: you do not need to feel any shame or concern about my...involvement." He reaches forward, puts his hand over Wei Ying's. "We're more than just coworkers."

Wei Ying laughs. "Well, we sure are now."

"We're friends," Lan Zhan continues steadily. "And have been for some time."

Wei Ying looks at him quietly for a moment.

"And I am glad," Lan Zhan continues. "I'm glad you were with me. I'm glad that I was someone you could...trust." He looks at Wei Ying. "I am someone you can trust."

"All right," Wei Ying says, with a shadow of his usual easy grin. "All right, Lan Zhan." He turns his hand over, squeezing Lan Zhan's for a moment before letting him go. "I'm glad," he says. "For that. And, well, for last night. I mean—" He cuts himself off, laughing again, as the color rises in his cheeks. "Fuck, do we think I'm ever going to stop blushing?"

Lan Zhan allows himself a smile, tilting his head at Wei Ying.

"Anyway," Wei Ying says, waving his hands around. "You're right, we should go in. This is going to be one hell of a report to file. I can't even think about it yet. Okay, right, we, uh, definitely both need to shower."

"You can go first," Lan Zhan says.

"No, come on," Wei Ying says. "You go first. You're a guest and god, after last night, you must be, like—oh fuck." The look he shoots Lan Zhan is stricken. "Fuck, Lan Zhan, I—fuck, I just remembered that I made you—that we didn't use—I'm so fucking sorry, I—"

He looks genuinely horrified—not the quiet embarrassment of before, but like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says. "It's fine."

"It isn't, you shouldn't have had to—I'm so—" He cuts himself off, staring up at Lan Zhan. "I'm clean," he says flatly. "I have—I took all the tests, I'm clean, and I haven't done anything since, and—wait, just hang on." He turns and starts scrambling for the desk near his bed, hissing and freezing for a moment as he moves too quickly.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says again, more firmly. "I know you are. You showed me the test results. Do you remember?"

Wei Ying drops back to the bed with a sigh. "Right," he says. "So you knew—I mean, you know I haven't been with anyone. I would have told you. I would have—wow, that's a weird thing to tell your coworker, I guess? I—"

"We're friends," Lan Zhan says again, as firm as he can make it. "And I'm clean, too. You were in a far more precarious position than I was, last night," he makes himself say. "You couldn't have known that."

Wei Ying's face goes very, very soft. "Lan Zhan," he says. "I absolutely know that. You're the safest person I know."

"You were not in a position to consent," Lan Zhan says steadily, "last night."

"I needed you," Wei Ying says. He's meeting Lan Zhan's eyes now. "I trust you."

Lan Zhan looks at him for a long moment, and gives a short nod. "I'm glad."

Wei Ying cracks a real smile. "I'm glad," he says, with a lot of sincerity in his tone. "Now go—take the first shower, okay?"

Lan Zhan does.

It's nearly two months later and they're still no closer to figuring out what happened. Lan Zhan has delved deeply into it in the weeks after the curse—running tests, doing research, asking roundabout questions of the investigative team—to no avail. Wei Ying had reported what happened, but he'd asked Lan Zhan to help him with the phrasing of the report, which definitely made it seem as though the effects of the curse were limited to Wei Ying—which they were, in fact—and that there hadn't been anyone else present.

Lan Zhan is not a fan of prevarication, but Wei Ying had asked if it was possible to keep what was private, private, and Lan Zhan had allowed it. Lan Zhan had found that he had a difficult time not allowing Wei Ying what he wanted. He had yet to regret it.

There's no lingering aura from the curse: no markers of a continuing curse; no ill-effects that Lan Zhan can discern; no residual resentful energy—other than what Wei Ying cultivates to use himself.

It had taken Lan Zhan some time to overcome his concern about Wei Ying's unconventional use of resentful energy. He'd heard rumors—though perhaps even calling them rumors would be an exaggeration. They had been hints of an unlikely tale: that Wei Ying had lost his golden core. Though that wasn't one hundred percent accurate, either. The whisper that Lan Zhan had heard was that Wei Ying had discovered a means of giving it away.

This is why it was barely a rumor—no one genuinely believed one would, in fact, give away their golden core. Have it taken from them, have it destroyed—these were events that were catalogued, that were recorded. The loss of a golden core was devastating. It was not to be believed that one would ever do it on purpose.

Once Lan Zhan got to know Wei Ying, he had come to believe the possibility that it was true, even before Wei Ying had admitted it to him.

"I'm telling you this," he'd said stiffly, "because we're partners, and pretty good ones." He'd given Lan Zhan a sharp look, as though he was assessing his potential reaction. "I think we can be great ones. So you have to know." His voice had been steady and his gaze direct. "I don't have a golden core. Not anymore."

Lan Zhan had kept his face still.

"That's why I don't carry a sword," Wei Ying had continued. "And it's why my method of cultivation is different, obviously. I work with what I've got." He had paused, apparently waiting to see if Lan Zhan had a response.

Lan Zhan had nodded.

"Okay." Wei Ying had leaned back on his heels. "You need to know this, so you can make an informed decision about continuing this partnership. You can ask to be reassigned. I get it. It's fine."

Lan Zhan had allowed himself a moment to think. How had it happened? Were the rumors, in fact, true? And did it matter if they were? Their partnership thus far had been steady, solid, and it was obvious to him that they worked well together. "I do not wish to be reassigned," he had said.

Wei Ying had given him a long look, then nodded firmly. "Okay, then." He'd flashed a quick grin, the solemn expression discarded. "Partners."

"Partners," Lan Zhan had said in agreement.

In the weeks following the incident, they talk about "the curse," but they don't talk about what they'd done together. They don't discuss it, other than the investigation around it. They are definitely more than coworkers now; though, if pressed, Lan Zhan would admit that they had been more than coworkers even before. Were it anyone other than Wei Ying, Lan Zhan would have started pulling back the moment he recognized that fact. It's not professional to be close friends with coworkers, let alone sleep with them, and normally, Lan Zhan would have realized that and drawn the appropriate lines where he could: stop socializing outside of work, stop sharing on non-work topics, pretend to be very busy instead of letting Wei Ying sit on his desk and talk to him about investigations and new ideas for talismans.

He definitely would never have spent full weekends sleeping on a coworker's couch.

Or allow a coworker to sleep in his guest bed.

Or prepare meals for a coworker, based specifically on said coworker's taste.

When he meets Wei Ying's brother a month after the curse, he has to work very hard to let go of the grudge he's been holding since their first year as partners. Wei Ying had wept to him after a night out for drinks, months after their parents had died in a tragic car accident. Wei Ying's sister had had to leave immediately after the funeral—she'd only recently had a baby and had to get back to her home, several provinces away.

Jiang Cheng had handled his grief by lashing out at Wei Ying, and Wei Ying had borne it, for Jiang Cheng's sake. Jiang Cheng had been needlessly, horribly cruel to Wei Ying. Wei Ying, drunk, had cried on Lan Zhan's shoulder, heartbroken sobs of having lost everything. "Everything, Lan Zhan," he wept. "I'm so alone in this, I'm so fucking alone in this."

They'd never talked about that afterwards, either. But Lan Zhan held onto that grudge tightly, and lets it go with difficulty.

When he and Wei Ying start spending time together more frequently, he gets to know Jiang Cheng. He does not like Jiang Cheng very much, and he is definitely bewildered by their relationship, but he can't doubt that the rough hugs that Jiang Cheng inevitably pulls Wei Ying into at the end of their nights, as well as Wei Ying's fond looks at Jiang Cheng no matter how badly Jiang Cheng has been berating him, seem to be couched in genuine affection.

The way Lan Zhan exchanges affection with his own brother is very, very different.

So nearly two months after the night of the curse, he and Wei Ying are quite close friends, even closer than they had been before the curse. Close enough that Lan Zhan notices that the so-called food poisoning Wei Ying contracts at lunch one day (leading him to turn an alarming shade of green and bolt for the work bathroom) seems to be lingering.

He drives Wei Ying home in Wei Ying's own car, Wei Ying a limp, unhappy lump in the passenger seat. "I'm fine," Wei Ying says. The skin around his lips is still green, and he's pasty pale.

"Mn."

"I could have stayed at work." Wei Ying shifts around unhappily. "It was just the ramen, I think. It sat badly." He looks gloomily out the window.

"It may be the flu," Lan Zhan suggests. "You wouldn't want to give it to anyone."

"It isn't the flu," Wei Ying insists. "I feel fine. Other than my stomach. Which is...okay, not great." He's tense, his lips tight, and he rolls down the window, leaning his head into the fresh air. "I'm good," he says into the rush of air. "We're almost there. That's...good."

When Lan Zhan pulls up out front, he says, "Do you want me to—I can come up and make sure you're—"

"No, I'm good." Wei Ying says it hastily, as he gets out of the car. "I'm gonna just—listen, keep the car for the night, pick me up in the morning, I don't need witnesses for when I inevitably hurl again, which—" He freezes, his hand on the door, for a moment, swallowing convulsively, "is probably going to be soon." He races towards the door. "Sorry, Lan Zhan! Thanks, Lan Zhan!"

Lan Zhan is dubious about Wei Ying's claims of being "fine," but he lets it lie for now, and drives himself home in Wei Ying's car. He texts him later, asking how he's feeling, and Wei Ying responds with, Fine. I swear. I know you won't believe me.

Lan Zhan types slowly, letting the Typing... sit for a while, which he knows makes Wei Ying crazy. Hmm

Wei Ying texts back immediately. I SWEAR!!!

Lan Zhan just waits him out this time.

I puked again but then slept for like 3 hrs and now I feel FINE

Lan Zhan—again—has his doubts, but he allows it for now. I will text you in the morning, he types back. Please tell me if you feel well enough for work.

I'LL BE FINE

Tell me that in the morning

Which Wei Ying does. I'm FINE is the first text Lan Zhan gets. He dutifully and doubtfully drives over to get him.

Wei Ying isn't outside when Lan Zhan gets there, but he races out breathlessly a few minutes later. He gets into the car, slinging his cross-body bag to the floor, and slumps into the seat. He doesn't try to wrest the keys from Lan Zhan. He doesn't try to get Lan Zhan to give up the driver's seat.

Lan Zhan raises his eyebrows. "Wei Ying," he says sternly.

Wei Ying refuses to look at him.

Wen Qing studies Wei Ying by closing her eyes and extending her spiritual energy. He sits, waiting, a slightly smug look on his face. "I don't feel sick anymore," he says to Lan Zhan. "At all."

"Shut up," Wen Qing says without opening her eyes.

Wei Ying does. Wen Qing is the only person that that works for.

She opens her eyes, tilting her head, and studies him again, moving her hands carefully on the outskirts of his body. "I need to take some blood," she says finally.

"Grasping at straws, are we?" Wei Ying smiles broadly. "I told you, I'm fine."

She doesn't bother to respond to that. "Hold out your arm," she says. "Are you afraid of needles?"

"Yes," he says promptly, holding out his arm for her and blinking innocently. "Terrified."

"Well," she says. "Then you're going to hate this."

Wei Ying watches avidly as she pulls two vials of blood swiftly. She's gone for only a few minutes—she has her own lab and she can pull rank whenever necessary. When she comes back in, she gives Lan Zhan a look. "Lan Zhan, could you step outside for a moment?"

Lan Zhan moves to leave but Wei Ying, sitting on Wen Qing's table with a scowl, waves him back. "He stays," he says flatly. "You can say anything in front of him, he's seen me at my worst."

Lan Zhan feels a swell of warmth at that, but still looks to Wen Qing for her approval.

"Fine," she says, turning back to Wei Ying. "You're pregnant."

Lan Zhan feels his mouth drop open and has to work to shut it.

Wei Ying reacts not at all. He's swinging his feet where he's sitting on the table, a bored expression on his face.

Wen Qing just looks at him. "I am not joking about that."

Wei Ying stops swinging his feet. He blinks several times in a row. "Wait," he says.

Wen Qing turns to his chart, flips through it. "Have you had any odd occurrences lately?" she asks. "On the job, or off?"

"Wait," Wei Ying says again, faintly.

"Any strange mishaps? Anything you couldn't quite figure out?" Wen Qing is speaking rapidly, clinically.

Lan Zhan can't feel his hands.

"No," Wei Ying says, snapping back into himself. He hops down off the table and then gets back up again when Wen Qing gives him a look. "No," he says. "I just—it was bad ramen! Or something! Nothing weird has happened—or nothing weirder than usual, anyway. Nothing! I swear!"

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says.

"What?" Wei Ying turns towards him. His eyes are a bit crazed. "There hasn't been any—oh."

"Oh," Lan Zhan echoes, faintly.

"Oh, that." Wei Ying's eyes get very, very big.

"Oh, what?" Wen Qing demands.

"Uh." Wei Ying swallows.

"What," Wen Qing says again, murderously. "The only thing I see in your chart was that horny curse that made you jerk off a lot," she says, glancing down at the chart again. "That wouldn't do this. You can't impregnate yourself." She pauses. "Particularly with your own right hand."

"About that..." Wei Ying says slowly.

"Yes?" Her tone is icy.

Lan Zhan still hasn't moved. He doesn't think he can move. He still can't feel his hands.

"There was," Wei Ying says, "maybe more to that curse than I, uh."

"You lied to me." Wen Qing shuts the chart with a snap. "You lied to me on a professional intake form."

"I didn't...exactly...lie," Wei Ying says. "I just sort of...left some things out."

"What things?" Wen Qing demands.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, turning towards Lan Zhan again with a panicked look on his face. "Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan, what did we—"

"We," Wen Qing says flatly. "So there was a we. I should have figured," she mutters. "Okay, tell me."

Wei Ying is still staring at Lan Zhan with beseeching eyes.

Lan Zhan realizes his mouth has fallen open again. He closes it. He clears his throat. "There was a sexual aspect to the curse," he manages to say.

"Oh my fucking god." Wen Qing puts her hand over her eyes. "It didn't occur to you to tell me that?"

"There was nothing to tell!" Wei Ying protested. "It was over. And anyway, can we please go back to the very pertinent question of how the fuck am I pregnant? How the fuck? I don't have the parts."

"Well, now you do," Wen Qing says tiredly.

"What." Wei Ying is staring at her.

She turns around, hunting through the bookshelves that line her walls. "It's old," she says. "It's old power. Ancient. It doesn't happen very often and we don't have much documentation about it —possibly because some patients don't tell their spiritual doctors about everything."

"Sorry?" Wei Ying says, still staring at her. She's high up on her toes now, reaching for a slim volume. She slams it on her desk. Dust comes from between the pages.

"There is," she says icily, "a curse that can create the right circumstances for procreation." She flips through the pages. "When cast, it can construct the mechanism for it." She shoots Wei Ying a look. "The uterus," she explains. "Which you now have. And the eggs," she adds, when Wei Ying makes a protesting sound. "The curse also provides the impetus," she adds. She looks between the two of them. "I'm assuming you acted upon said impetus."

Wei Ying drops his head into his hands as Lan Zhan nods dumbly.

"Well, there you go." Wen Qing shuts the book with another cloud of dust. "You," she says, pointing at Wei Ying, "are pregnant." She pauses. "I'm going to hazard a guess," she says then, turning to Lan Zhan, "that you are the father? The other father," she clarifies.

He nods again. It's the only thing he can do, apparently. His brain is whirling. Whirling with trying to process the fact of a...spiritual pregnancy? With the thought of Wei Ying being pregnant. With the thought of Wei Ying being pregnant with their child. "I'm...going to sit down," he says, fumbling for the chair he thinks is behind him. It is not. He slides down the wall instead. That's okay. The floor is good.

"I'm gonna throw up," Wei Ying says. "Oh god. I—" He scrambles down from the table and Wen Qing points towards the door behind him. He scurries in, slamming it behind him. There is an immediate sound of retching.

"I'm having a bad day," Wen Qing says softly to herself.

"So," Wei Ying says. He's curled up in a ball on Lan Zhan's couch. Wen Qing had sent them both home from work immediately and Lan Zhan had driven them—still in Wei Ying's car—home pretty much on autopilot. It actually wasn't until he had unlocked his front door and stood aside to let Wei Ying in that he realized maybe Wei Ying would have wanted to go to his home.

But Wei Ying—also seemingly operating on autopilot—had just walked dazedly over to Lan Zhan's couch and collapsed onto it, dragging a pillow over his stomach and curling up around it.

"So," Wei Ying says again, and then stops talking. He's staring into the middle distance and chewing on his lip.

Lan Zhan opens his mouth and then closes it again. He, too, does not know what to say. He's staring at the pillow Wei Ying is clutching against his stomach. Against his—still very flat—stomach. Which apparently now houses a uterus. Which. Has a baby in it.

Their baby in it.

Lan Zhan needs to sit down again. Immediately.

He makes it to the couch before his knees give out and he collapses next to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying turns his head to him slowly. "Lan Zhan," he says. He sounds dazed. Everything he's said since he emerged from the bathroom at Wen Qing's office, the edges of his mouth tense and white, has sounded dazed. "Lan Zhan," he says again, tucking his feet up under himself on the couch and turning to face Lan Zhan fully. "Lan Zhan, what the fuck have we done?"

"We—" Lan Zhan's voice comes out rusty and he has to clear his throat. He turns sideways as well, resting his hands on his knees and trying to take deep, smooth breaths. "We..."

He doesn't know how to end the sentence. He knows what they did. They fucked. They fucked bareback. They fucked bareback three times and it had been raw, and it had been necessary, and it had been the most erotic experience of Lan Zhan's life. He thinks about it daily. He thinks about it when he looks at Wei Ying's sharp, bright smile. He thinks about it when Wei Ying leans against him, as he does very regularly, grinning at him with nothing but trust and affection in his eyes. He thinks about it when he wakes up hard in the morning and doesn't have the wherewithal to stop himself from remembering what it felt like to fuck deep into Wei Ying, the feel of him still slick with lube and Lan Zhan's come, the look in Wei Ying's eyes as he panted up at him and begged him to do it harder, deeper, faster.

He drags himself back to the present. Wei Ying has not noticed that Lan Zhan has wandered off in his head. Wei Ying is still staring at him, but it's as though he's not really seeing him. "What did we—what do we do now?"

Lan Zhan is suddenly, achingly glad that Wei Ying is speaking in "we"s. They're in this together. He hadn't dared to assume.

"We will figure out the path forward," he says.

Wei Ying jerks his gaze up, focusing fully on Lan Zhan for the first time. He looks bewildered, still, and he's holding the pillow against his stomach like he's hiding behind it. Lan Zhan can't stop thinking about it: there's the start of a baby in there. Inside Wei Ying.

"The path forward," Wei Ying says faintly. "With a baby."

"Yes." Lan Zhan's chest feels tight all of a sudden. "Yes," he says again, and he's trying to line up his thoughts but he can't, it's too much. His brain is whirling but he has an overarching need to be sure that Wei Ying knows. "Wei Ying." He reaches forward and tugs the pillow out of Wei Ying's arms.

Wei Ying lets it go reluctantly, his hands immediately going to rest on his stomach.

Lan Zhan takes a deep breath, or tries to, but his lungs don't seem to want to fill to capacity. His voice comes out high and tight. "I don't want to presume," he says rapidly. "It is not a decision that needs to be made right now, today. But I would like to remain a part of this." He feels dizzy and desperate and his efforts to modulate his tone come to naught. He forges ahead. "I would like us to do this together."

Wei Ying looks bewildered, still, but Lan Zhan isn't certain whether that's because of what he's saying or because of the overall...pregnancy processing. He is determined to make himself clear. "I would like us to raise this child. Together." Saying it out loud feels horribly presumptuous, but surely if there ever was a moment for blatant honesty, it's this one.

"Fuck," Wei Ying says, still cupping his stomach. His eyes, which have been wide and unfocused throughout, suddenly narrow. "You don't—you don't have to do that. It's—I'm the one who's—"

"You heard Wen Qing," Lan Zhan says. "It's because of both of us."

"I'm the one who was cursed," Wei Ying argues, shifting closer, sitting up straighter, looking more like his regular self. "I'm the one who made you—"

"You did not make me," Lan Zhan argues back.

"You weren't the one with the horny curse!"

Lan Zhan's cheeks get very, very hot. "I'm aware," he says stiffly. That makes it so much worse. Wei Ying was under a compulsion. Lan Zhan did it of his own free will. "It is—this is ours." He's struggling.

Wei Ying lets out a wet-sounding laugh, sagging forward until his forehead is resting on Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Oh my god," he says. "Our baby." He rocks his head back and forth against Lan Zhan's shoulder.

Lan Zhan rests a hand tentatively on his shoulder.

Wei Ying lifts his head and looks at Lan Zhan. "Our baby," he says again, starting to laugh. "Our baby. Our—oh my god, this is so fucked up. This is so fucked up! But, like, not in a bad way? I think? I—" He's laughing harder now, but he doesn't sound as frenzied. He's clutching Lan Zhan's shoulders and looking him in the eyes, sort of hunched over with laughter. "What do we do, Lan Zhan? Do we need a list? You're good at lists. A list might help."

"We can make a list," Lan Zhan says helplessly. Wei Ying is flushed, and beautiful. Lan Zhan wants to kiss him. He remembers the taste of his mouth from the night they—

"You're the best one." Wei Ying's eyes are damp with laughter and he wipes at them with the back of his hands before reaching out to clutch at Lan Zhan's shoulders again. "Holy shit, Lan Zhan," he says. "We made a baby."

Lan Zhan's breath stutters in his chest and then he's laughing, too. Wei Ying falls forward against his chest, wheezing with laughter and Lan Zhan lets himself hold him close, Wei Ying's hot breath against his chest.

They made a baby.

"How does it come out?" Wei Ying demands again, grimly.

Wen Qing continues to ignore him. The sonographer is still working on setting up the ultrasound equipment and, as Wen Qing promised, is showing absolutely zero interest in Wei Ying or Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying looks over at Lan Zhan. "Can you see me, Lan Zhan?" he asks, leaning back on his hands against the exam table. "Can you hear me? Am I a ghost?"

"If you were a ghost," Wen Qing says calmly, not looking up from the chart she's studying, "you'd be a poltergeist. You're that annoying."

"Shut up, I like poltergeists, they're just working through some stuff." Wei Ying is glaring now. "Listen. How does it come out? Do we have a plan for that? Because I think we need to have a plan for that."

"Have you heard of a caesarean section?" She looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh god," Wei Ying says. He goes a little pale and glances over at Lan Zhan.

"There aren't too many alternatives here." Wen Qing flips the chart closed. "And that part comes a whole lot later, anyway. So how about we just focus on the ultrasound for now, hmm?"

"Sure," Wei Ying says uncertainly, settling back on the table. The sonographer drapes his lap with a paper sheet and Wei Ying curls his fingers around the edges of it, then smooths it out. Lan Zhan stands directly beside him and wonders if he should be holding his hand. But no—nothing has been discussed regarding them in relation to each other, not really. The last few days have been a blur. Lan Zhan feels even more uncertain now.

"It doesn't feel real," Wei Ying says, staring at the screen even though the scan hasn't started yet. "What if you're wrong?" That last part is directed at Wen Qing, who raises one eyebrow at him and doesn't deign to respond.

"She could be wrong," Wei Ying says to Lan Zhan. "It happens."

"Not often." Lan Zhan is staring at the blank screen, as well, and shakes his head, looking down at Wei Ying.

"Okay," says the sonographer cheerfully. "Can you pull your shirt up for me? And I need you to undo your jeans and push them down just a bit."

Wei Ying nods uneasily. He leans back and tugs up his shirt and thumbs open the button of his jeans, wiggling as he pushes them down a little. Both he and Lan Zhan stare down at his absolutely flat stomach. Wei Ying is correct: it does not seem real. It does not seem possible. Lan Zhan feels a frisson of concern that perhaps Wen Qing is, in fact, incorrect, and the scan will not show anything. Which feels as though it should be the wrong thing to be concerned about. Wouldn't it be better for them if it was, in fact, just a false alarm? Why is he centered on this fear that it will come to nothing?

He's worrying the thought around in his brain, staring down at the line of dark hair that leads from just below Wei Ying's navel to—

Wei Ying yelps. The sonographer is spreading gel over his stomach, smiling at him apologetically. "Sorry," she says. "I should have warned you. It's always cold."

Wei Ying stares down at his stomach, now shiny with the gel. "This is weird," he says. "This is really weird."

"Ready?" The sonographer is poised with the instrument over Wei Ying's belly. "The wand is a little chilly, too. I'm going to be pressing down a little hard. It won't hurt, but there'll be some pressure. Okay?"

"...sure," Wei Ying says. His gaze is riveted on the screen.

The sonographer presses the wand firmly against Wei Ying's belly. Wei Ying doesn't move. He doesn't actually seem to be breathing.

It takes a few moments, longer than Lan Zhan has been expecting. He feels the same swooping worry the longer it goes on. What if—what if—

"There you go," the sonographer says. "See it?"

Wei Ying squints at the screen and Lan Zhan finds himself leaning closer, almost over Wei Ying, to look.

"Here, hang on, I can highlight it. There you go."

It's there. It's...very small and very dark and very much there. It's—

"It looks like a bean," Wei Ying breathes out. He's reaching one hand out unsteadily towards Lan Zhan, without taking his eyes off the screen. Lan Zhan grasps it and holds on tight, also still staring at the screen.

It does look like a bean. "A baby," he says idiotically. He thinks his mouth is hanging open but he's unable to remember how to close it.

"Told you so," Wen Qing says.

"Congratulations," the sonographer says.

"Congratulations," Wei Ying echoes faintly. He's clutching Lan Zhan's hand so, so tightly. "Oh god, it's a baby."

"This is going to go well," Wen Qing says dryly.

Lan Zhan gets Wei Ying to move in with him without ever actually discussing it. Wei Ying spends the next couple of weeks somewhat in a daze. His morning sickness ("Which is such a misnomer, Lan Zhan, it's not even funny. It's not morning! Or, well, it's not just morning, it's all the time, and I can't predict it, and I hate it!") gets worse before it gets better. He spends quite a bit of time being either nauseated, or throwing up, or being exhausted after being nauseated and then throwing up. He doesn't seem to have the energy to notice that Lan Zhan has taken to driving them both to and from work in Wei Ying's car and, when he does so, he simply brings Wei Ying home with him.

Wei Ying would spend a lot of time at Lan Zhan's apartment anyway, even before this, and Lan Zhan just allows them to slide into the routine of it. Lan Zhan had spent his fair share of time sleeping on Wei Ying's couch after a night of movies, but Lan Zhan has a guest room, and Lan Zhan has a kitchen with actual food and not just take-out leftovers.

Also, it's a muggy, sticky August and Wei Ying is struggling: he gets more nauseated when he gets too hot.

(Other things that make Wei Ying nauseated, a list in progress: the smell of coffee. Waking up from a nap. The idea of eating eggs—not just Wei Ying himself, but anybody eating eggs. Walking too fast. Getting up too quickly. The list keeps growing.)

They don't discuss it, not in detail, but after a week of Wei Ying crashing at Lan Zhan's and borrowing some of Lan Zhan's clothes and wearing the same jeans for three days in a row, he asks Lan Zhan to drive over to his place with him and he packs a couple of bags. "It's easier," he says, "for right now." He sits down on the side of his unmade bed, clutching a hoodie that he'd been in the middle of stuffing into a bag. He's got dark circles under his eyes and he's chewing on his lip. "I'm not, like, moving in."

"You are welcome to," Lan Zhan says, after a careful pause.

Wei Ying shakes his head. "It's just easier, for now," he repeats.

"It is." Lan Zhan tugs the hoodie out of Wei Ying's hands and Wei Ying lets him. He folds it neatly and tucks it in the bag.

"Is it weird," Wei Ying asks, "doing it like this? Like—I don't know." He's quiet, thinking for a moment.

Lan Zhan takes advantage of his distraction to gather the clothes in and around the laundry hamper in the corner of Wei Ying's room, scooping up a variety of items from around the room as well. "Trash bags?" he asks.

"Kitchen," Wei Ying says vaguely, chewing on the corner of his thumbnail.

When Lan Zhan comes back with trash bags and starts putting the laundry in them, Wei Ying continues his thought like he hadn't missed a beat. "Like, us," he says. "We're not—it's not like we were dating and then this happened and so we just sort of ramp things up." He looks up at Lan Zhan. "Right? This is different from that. There's no script for this."

"There is not," Lan Zhan agrees. "Bathroom items?"

"Oh, right." Wei Ying gets up—a bit too quickly, he has to stop, and swallow, but holds up one hand. "I'm good," he says. Lan Zhan follows him to the bathroom and rummages around, coming up with a travel case from underneath the sink.

Wei Ying starts to haphazardly load it up. "Do we need one?" he says. "It feels like we need one. A script," he clarifies. "Oh, thanks," he adds, as Lan Zhan hands him his razor.

"We do not," Lan Zhan says. "I don't think a script would help here."

Wei Ying stops what he's doing, turning to lean back against the counter to gaze curiously at Lan Zhan. "It wouldn't?"

"No." Lan Zhan is quiet for a moment. "I think that you and I are different."

"Ha." Wei Ying's hand is curled over his still very flat belly, seemingly unconsciously. "We sure are."

"I mean," Lan Zhan continues, "what we have is different."

Wei Ying studies him, dropping down to sit on the closed toilet seat. "How?" he asks.

Lan Zhan thinks about it as he continues to pack up anything that looks important on Wei Ying's counter. "I care about you," he says.

"I know," Wei Ying responds. "I care about you, too." He looks up at Lan Zhan curiously.

"I know," Lan Zhan says, after a beat. "We're in this. We're in this together. I...want this." It feels daring, to say that, and he wants to stop packing Wei Ying's bathroom supplies. He wants to drop down beside Wei Ying and take his face in his hands and make Wei Ying look, make Wei Ying see.

Instead he pauses and then holds up an unopened tube of eye cream.

Wei Ying nods. "Yes."

Lan Zhan has never witnessed Wei Ying using a moisturizing product of any kind, but Wei Ying of the present has constant faith that Wei Ying of the future will take care of his skin. Lan Zhan packs it and makes a mental note to remind Wei Ying about using it.

"We are in this together." Wei Ying's tone is thoughtful. "I like you a lot, Lan Zhan." He's watching Lan Zhan, tilting his head up to look at him. "You honestly don't mind, do you?"

Don't mind. Lan Zhan stops what he's doing, his mind racing through the various ways he "doesn't mind." He looks down at the things he's packed into Wei Ying's bathroom bag for a handful of moments and then he can't stop himself from dropping down to his knees beside Wei Ying. He takes Wei Ying's hands in his tightly and makes himself not let go. "Wei Ying," he says, and then can't continue, his breath caught in his throat.

Wei Ying is still studying him. "You're happy," he says.

"I'm happy," Lan Zhan breathes.

"Okay." Wei Ying squeezes Lan Zhan's hands. The smile that spreads across his face is sudden, and brilliant. "I'm glad it was you," he says. His tone is intense and he's still looking into Lan Zhan's eyes. "I know we're just..."

Lan Zhan's heart beats in the rhythm of that pause.

Wei Ying shakes his head. "But I'm glad," he says again, "it was you." His hands are tight around Lan Zhan's and Lan Zhan is the one who can't catch his breath right now, caught in the intensity of Wei Ying's gaze.

Wei Ying takes a breath, and then another. "Oh fuck," he says, his face going pasty. "I'm gonna puke."

Lan Zhan gets him onto the floor in the next second, flipping the toilet lid up and holding Wei Ying's hair back.

"Sorry," Wei Ying gasps, between heaves. "Sorry, sorry, I—"

Lan Zhan quietly adds "being too happy" to the list of things that makes Wei Ying throw up.

They are edging up on the three month mark. "Three months," Wei Ying says uneasily, watching Keanu Reeves dodge bullets in such an unlikely example of core strength that it makes Lan Zhan curious if the writers of the film are, in fact, cultivators themselves, "is the soonest Wen Qing said we should tell people."

"Yes." Lan Zhan watches the agent on the screen and wonders again about his odd bone structure. He thinks about telling Lan Huan about the baby. He frowns at the television.

"So, like." Wei Ying shifts next to him, and reaches for one of the dozen egg tarts that he'd insisted they stop for on the way home. "I have to tell jiejie." He puts a tart into his mouth. "And Jiang Cheng," he says, garbled around the tart. "So that's terrible."

Lan Zhan feels a jolt of unhappiness at the thought of Wei Ying being reluctant to tell his siblings about their child, then shakes himself. He, too, feels...strange about sharing the news with Lan Huan. He feels, oddly, protective. Until now, it's been between him and Wei Ying. And Wen Qing.

So maybe he should stop feeling quite so protective about the news. But.

"You don't think they'll be happy?" Lan Zhan knows the moment the words are out that that is not the problem.

Wei Ying twists around to look up at him, sagging against his chest and shoving another tart into his mouth. "I don't think they'll understand."

Lan Zhan pauses the movie, Keanu Reeves mid-dodge on the screen. He tugs the container of tarts out of Wei Ying's hands, and wraps his arm around his shoulders. Wei Ying settles back against him with a sigh.

Throughout their friendship, Wei Ying has always been a very tactile person. It took Lan Zhan time to get used to it, the easy touches, the hugs, the casual hand on his shoulder, his back. The way that Wei Ying has always leaned in when they watch movies together, sometimes resting his head on Lan Zhan's shoulder, sometimes tucking his always-freezing feet underneath Lan Zhan's thigh.

Lately, though, he's seemed touch-starved, draping himself over Lan Zhan whenever he can, curling up close to him on the couch. When Lan Zhan responds by pulling him closer, the satisfied sigh Wei Ying gives makes something curl up warmly in Lan Zhan's stomach.

"It's an unusual situation," he says now, allowing his thumb to trace circles on Wei Ying's shoulder.

"Jiang Cheng doesn't do well with unusual situations." Wei Ying sighs and presses closer. His hair is against Lan Zhan's cheek and Lan Zhan wants to press a kiss to the top of his head. That would be a step too far. "It'll be okay. I'll figure it out."

Lan Zhan is quiet, breathing in the scent of Wei Ying, feeling the weight of him against his shoulder, his chest. Wei Ying's hand is resting on Lan Zhan's leg, and he shifts again. He's restless tonight. Lan Zhan keeps his thumb moving softly, hoping it will help him settle.

Wei Ying sighs. He makes a soft sound in his throat as he presses back against Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan's heart picks up a little bit and he glances down at Wei Ying. Wei Ying tilts his head, looking up at him, his eyes soft and a little unfocused.

Lan Zhan takes a breath.

Wei Ying blinks and sits forward all of a sudden, pillows tumbling to the floor. He gets up saying, "Sorry, sorry, I gotta go to bed. We can finish the movie tomorrow? It's fine. I can pay again to stream it. We have twenty-four hours anyway. I just—I'm going to bed! See you tomorrow."

He disappears in a flurry of messy hair and long, bare legs.

Lan Zhan sits for a moment, looking after him. He'd thought—for just a moment, he'd thought Wei Ying was thinking about—

He shakes himself and gets up, bringing the remainder of the tarts back to the kitchen. It doesn't bear thinking about. They've discussed this, largely. They're in this together but Wei Ying has stressed the friendship portion of it time and again. Lan Zhan understands. He gets to be a part of this. He's comfortable with that.

He puts the tarts away and does the last few dishes. He flips off the light in the kitchen and straightens the couch cushions left in disarray by Wei Ying's sudden departure. He folds the couch blankets, draping them over the back, and flips off the television. It's early yet, not even his own bedtime, and he's almost always in bed long before Wei Ying has quieted down. He does know that pregnancy causes a deep exhaustion at certain times. Perhaps this is part of that.

He peers down the hall at the guest room, feeling a little bad about checking, but also too concerned not to. There isn't a light showing under the door. Wei Ying must have been well and truly exhausted. Hopefully a solid night's sleep will do him good.

Wei Ying is running late the next morning. He's not usually the most punctual, but he and Lan Zhan have been driving into work together for weeks now and he's usually scurrying around, looking for his wallet, his phone, rummaging around in the fridge for something to stuff in his bag as a snack.

Instead, he hasn't even emerged from his room yet and it is—Lan Zhan checks his phone one more time—nearly seven minutes later than their agreed-upon departure time. Just as he's about to head down the hall to knock (he knows Wei Ying is awake, he'd heard him emerge from the shower) Wei Ying bursts out of his room. He's dressed and his hair is still damp and flying everywhere. He has his usual thick, red hair elastic around his wrist and he's trying to put his hair up at the same time as he's attempting to grab his work bag. "Sorry," he's saying, breathless. "Sorry, sorry, I had a...rough morning." He's crouched by his work bag—he'd dropped it trying to sling it over his shoulders—and stays crouched down, still struggling to scrape his hair up into his usual ponytail.

"It's okay," Lan Zhan says. "We have time."

"You hate being late." Wei Ying manages to get the elastic secured. "It's lumpy, but it will do," he mutters to himself, yanking on the ponytail to tighten it.

He gets to his feet, blowing wisps of hair out of his face. His cheeks are flushed—possibly from hurrying, but they're very red, two spots of color blooming high in his cheeks, and his eyes look a little unfocused, as well. "Are you feeling okay?" Lan Zhan asks in concern.

"Fine," Wei Ying says shortly. He grabs his bag, pulling it over his head to settle the strap on his shoulder. "Let's go! We're late."

"Are you sure?" Lan Zhan moves closer. "You look feverish." He reaches out towards Wei Ying, trying to rest his hand on his forehead—he really is oddly flushed.

"I'm fine!" Wei Ying bats his hand away, ducking around him and heading for the door. "I'm totally fine, I swear, Lan Zhan." He goes out the door, leaving it open. "You're making us late," he calls from down the hall.

He seems fine, if jittery, on the car ride over. He's jiggling his knee up and down the whole time and is uncharacteristically quiet. Lan Zhan doesn't realize he keeps shooting him looks, but Wei Ying finally sighs and says, "I'm fine. I promise I'm fine."

"Mn." Lan Zhan doesn't believe him.

"Okay," Wei Ying says at the next stop light. "Go ahead. Feel my forehead."

Lan Zhan does. Wei Ying is not feverish. He does shiver a little bit as Lan Zhan rests his hand against his skin, and then pushes his hand away. "See?" he says tightly. "Told you so." He nods at the windshield. "Light's green."

Lan Zhan drives the rest of the way to work in thoughtful silence. Something is going on.

When they get there, Wei Ying darts away immediately. Wei Ying has, ostensibly, a desk of his own, though he spends the vast majority of their in-office time in Lan Zhan's guest chair. He sits with one leg draped over the arm while he chews on a pen and rambles at Lan Zhan about their latest case, or with both legs tucked up underneath him, crammed in place and seemingly very comfortable while he worries at a thumbnail and dictates to Lan Zhan about details to include in their case notes.

Wei Ying has disappeared towards the lab wing of their office suite. Towards Wen Qing's office. Lan Zhan sits down at his desk and wonders. He turns on his computer and supposes that he should be glad that Wei Ying is seeking her guidance on whatever it is that's going on with him. He supposes that the odds are great that Wen Qing is the best person to go to with medical issues. If Wei Ying would rather speak with her than with Lan Zhan regarding a medical concern, that's both reasonable and appropriate, and nothing about it should make Lan Zhan feel a sense of resentment.

He looks in the direction of Wen Qing's lab one more time, then resolutely opens their active case file. They're scheduled to go investigate the resentful energy that's built up on a construction site on the other side of town. It started to manifest during the demolition stage, in the form of petty pranks and minor inconveniences (coffee cups tipped over, power cords left in dangerous places, doors locking and no key to be found), but it escalated to injuring the workers. Electrical sockets found to be live when they had been disconnected and tested recently are only the latest of the issues. One worker is still hospitalized and the site has been shut down for health and safety issues until the issue can be investigated and resolved.

He is able to let himself get lost in the rhythm of his review, jotting down notes as he reads through the file, spending some time cross-referencing the database of incidents that have some similarities.

Wei Ying shows up at his desk moments before they are due to set out.

Lan Zhan allows himself one instance of inquiry. "Are you cleared for site work?"

Wei Ying knows it's a decent question: they are a team, they keep each other safe. He nods shortly, fiddling with the strap of his bag. "I'm good."

Lan Zhan allows it and lets it go, even though Wei Ying's cheeks are still flushed. Wen Qing is leaning in the doorway of her lab as they head out and she gives Lan Zhan an eye roll, which he takes as her assurance that Wei Ying is, indeed, fine.

He can't bring himself to stop wondering, however, and he is, perhaps, more silent than usual on their drive over to the site. Wei Ying is back to his chattering self, going over Lan Zhan's notes and giving his commentary, occasionally grousing about not being able to have coffee in the morning anymore and staring glumly out the window as they pass his favorite shop.

The site is quiet as they make space in the wards and let themselves in. It's already been demolished: the crew had been there in the build-out stage. Lan Zhan closes his eyes and concentrates for several moments before blinking them open at Wei Ying. "I don't feel anything," he says. "Could you—"

Wei Ying nods and digs in his bag for his flute. He plays a few bars of an inquiring tune, tendrils of black smoke drifting out and whirling around him. He lets the music slide to a stop after a minute and they're both poised in the echoing quiet of the space around them. "Nothing," Wei Ying says in surprise. He tucks his flute away, pacing around the space, boots crunching against the floor. His black t-shirt has ridden up a bit and Lan Zhan's gaze gets caught on the thin strip of exposed skin along his waist. He studies him, wondering, not for the first time, what he will look like when he starts to show. When that will happen.

"I think we wait." Wei Ying has stopped, now, standing poised in the middle of the room, like he's listening. "I think—I don't know, it feels like we should just..." He shrugs, and stretches, his shoulders popping. "Let's hang out for a bit before we try again."

Wei Ying has good instincts for circumstances such as these and Lan Zhan agrees.

The quiet holds for a bit before Wei Ying—never good at silences—sighs. "I'm fine," he says—again, for perhaps the fifth time this morning.

Lan Zhan finds his jaw clenching just a bit at the word, and he makes himself loosen it.

"And—sorry." Wei Ying sighs again and tilts his head at Lan Zhan. "I thought— I thought it was the curse. Again."

It takes Lan Zhan a moment to process that. Wei Ying had been experiencing...

"Wen Qing said it's, you know." Wei Ying grimaces and then he buries his face in his hands for just a moment. "God, this is embarrassing. She said it just was hormones. That this sort of...reaction is pretty normal. In this stage of, you know." He stops, setting his jaw. "Pregnancy."

Lan Zhan's brain is still catching up. "You're...you've been..."

Wei Ying sighs gustily. "Horny as fuck, Lan Zhan," he says all in one breath. "That's it. That's all. Nothing I can't handle."

As it were, Lan Zhan thinks. So last night, on the couch. And this morning, in the shower. And—

He makes himself focus on the pertinent part of Wei Ying's confession. "If you thought it was the curse," he says, "you should have told me." He's aware of some swirling energy gathering in the corners of the room, the mounting tension of their conversation drawing some attention.

"It's not your responsibility." Wei Ying is drifting to one side, his eyes surveying the corners of the room. He tugs his flute back out of his bag, and then digs a sheet of talisman paper out of his back pocket. "And anyway, I'm fine." He lifts his chin at Lan Zhan, a quick gesture at the front corner of the space.

Lan Zhan nods, moving so he and Wei Ying are bracketing the space. He draws his sword and stands, poised, as Wei Ying, with a swift bite to his finger, uses his blood to sketch a spell on the talisman paper.

"So you've said," Lan Zhan says stiffly, not looking at Wei Ying. "Several times." He pauses, studying the corner of the room. "Now, Wei Ying."

Wei Ying blows out a breath of frustration and casts the talisman forward. The seething resentful energy in the corner of the room explodes into a frenzy of activity. A whirling jolt of it picks up all the loose bolts, nails, and pieces of metal scattered throughout the work site, a veritable funnel of deadly menace. Lan Zhan ducks and weaves, avoiding them as Wei Ying casts another talisman with deft accuracy. The items fall to the floor like their strings have been cut, and Lan Zhan hears or feels—it's impossible to tell in the moment—a shriek of rage.

He closes his eyes, imbuing his sword with power, and counts it off as he hears the sound of Wei Ying's flute, an upsetting, uncomfortable, meandering melody that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. At the apex of the tune, Lan Zhan spins himself forward, using momentum and a kick of spiritual energy to twirl himself up and over the whirling dervish of anger, now woven through with smoke from Wei Ying's playing.

Lan Zhan lands on the far side of it, slicing into the wall on the other side. The plaster and wood collapses and there's another shriek as a desiccated body is revealed, tucked with care into the space between two joists.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says urgently.

With a swift movement, Lan Zhan stashes his sword and brings forth his guqin, playing a powerful chord. The shrieking in the room, in his head, turns to sobbing. It takes only moments after that to release the spirit—it had been ready, more than ready, to be found. To be set to rest.

"That was..." Wei Ying is staring at Lan Zhan from the center of the room, flute still dangling from his fingers. "That was so well done," he says. He swallows, still watching him as Lan Zhan stashes the guqin and rapidly texts the office to send in a clean-up and removal team.

When he looks back at Wei Ying, Wei Ying is still standing there, his feet planted, his breath coming fast. His face is flushed again, his eyes dark, and the way he's looking at Lan Zhan is—

"Lan Zhan," he says, his voice coming out a little strangled. "Fuck, you're good at that."

It's not his work tone, inasmuch as Wei Ying has a work tone. It is, instead, reminiscent of—

Wei Ying lets out a breath, and it gets caught in his throat, coming out as nearly a groan.

The way he's looking at Lan Zhan. The sudden and overwhelming realization that Wei Ying has been struggling with—that last night, on the couch, under Lan Zhan's arm, he had been getting aroused. Perhaps—almost certainly—had been getting hard.

That right now, his eyes look dark and his face a little frantic, and they're at work, and Lan Zhan shouldn't, but Lan Zhan very definitely does.

It takes nothing to close the space between them: all Lan Zhan has to do is release himself from his restraint and he's there. It's only after he's kissing Wei Ying—his hands on Wei Ying's face, Wei Ying making a sharp, surprised sound into his mouth— that he thinks that perhaps he should have asked.

"The way you were looking at me." He says it against Wei Ying's skin, kissing the corner of Wei Ying's mouth, reveling in the taste of him. He'd only ever gotten to have this the night of the curse. The night he'd gotten Wei Ying pregnant. He shouldn't—he knows, but— "I'm sorry," he says, but his hands are moving down Wei Ying's body, Wei Ying shuddering against him as he wraps them around Wei Ying's hips. "I'm sorry, should I—I can stop."

"You don't have to," Wei Ying says and something surges in Lan Zhan's chest. He pushes Wei Ying back until he's pressed up against the wall.

"You don't have to do this," Wei Ying continues, though, his voice grim. "You—"

Lan Zhan recognizes the tone. He's embarrassed. Lan Zhan isn't always the best at discerning exactly what it is that Wei Ying wants or needs. But he thinks about what Wei Ying said before, and how even now, his head thunking against the wall, his jaw set, Wei Ying's eyes are still darting between Lan Zhan's eyes and his mouth, and Lan Zhan wants him. Lan Zhan wants him so badly.

"This isn't something you're required to do." Wei Ying sounds almost bitter, holding himself tensely against the wall, but—Lan Zhan knows him. "You don't have to—this isn't a curse. I'm not a charity case. My right hand will do just fine."

Lan Zhan takes a breath and kisses Wei Ying again. He's not gentle about it. He wants Wei Ying to feel this.

Wei Ying makes a protesting noise against his mouth.

Lan Zhan sets his own jaw and pushes his hips forward. He is the one who has to swallow a moan when his erection presses against Wei Ying; he is the one who is utterly helpless not to put his mouth against Wei Ying's neck where he can see Wei Ying's pulse fluttering. "I want this." He has to force himself to say it, and he feels heat rising in his own cheeks. He feels exposed, vulnerable, but Wei Ying has been as well, will continue to be, so Lan Zhan must—he has to be honest with him. "I will stop if this is not what you want, but I—" He closes his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against Wei Ying's, his fingers digging into Wei Ying's hips still, because he can't quite make himself stop. He opens his eyes and pulls back so he can see Wei Ying's eyes.

Wei Ying looks guarded, unsure.

Lan Zhan makes himself finish the sentence. "I want this." He'd thought it would be very difficult to say. It was not.

"Fuck." Wei Ying's voice comes out strangled and then he's dragging Lan Zhan's head forward and kissing him like Lan Zhan has never been kissed before in his entire life. This isn't like the kisses Lan Zhan had just been giving him now, though Lan Zhan had been doing his best to pour his desires into them. And it isn't like the crazed, smeared, near-deranged kisses Wei Ying had given him during the curse. Those kisses had been a means to an end—like Wei Ying's body had been driving him to kiss him so that he could get Lan Zhan to fuck him.

These kisses were an event in and of themselves. Wild and deep and Wei Ying constantly moaning into his mouth, his hips hitching forward. Lan Zhan had been aware of Wei Ying's hardness even as he'd spoken to him, but now Wei Ying is pressing it against him and he's lost in the rhythm of it, wanting to meet it with his own. He thinks that, given the chance, he could fuck Wei Ying up against this wall, right here, right now.

Wei Ying gasps against his mouth, "Lan Zhan." He writhes. "Ah, ah, fuck, I—the clean-up team is—"

Lan Zhan drops his head against Wei Ying's neck, digging his teeth in. He'd like to stay here, he'd like to keep Wei Ying pinned against the wall, would like to keep doing this, sucking at his neck with tongue, and teeth, until Wei Ying falls apart underneath him.

But. As Wei Ying says, the clean-up team is en route and very likely arriving at any moment. He pulls away from Wei Ying—who, despite being the one reminding him they need to get out of here, tries to drag him back for a moment. "We should go," Lan Zhan says.

"Right." Wei Ying takes a slightly unsteady step forward. "We're—"

"We should go home." Lan Zhan says it firmly. "I'm minorly injured."

"Wait, you are?" Wei Ying's eyes flicker over him quickly, looking alarmed.

Lan Zhan manages not to roll his eyes. "I heal quickly," he says. "But you should take me home, now." Wei Ying's gaze stills, looking at his face. "You should take me to bed."

"I—okay." Wei Ying is moving rapidly towards the door, reaching out to catch hold of Lan Zhan's hand and dragging him along. "You're totally right, Lan Zhan. You look like you need some...rest."

Lan Zhan drives, even though Wei Ying makes grabby hands for the keys. He gets them back to his place very quickly. They both turn towards each other in the elevator up, and then turn away—this isn't like the night with the curse. They can wait. Wei Ying's breath is coming fast and he's tense beside Lan Zhan as he gazes up at the numbers on the elevator indicator, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

It seems to take forever. Lan Zhan's heart is beating in his throat and he thinks that all it would take for him to break would be to simply brush his fingers against Wei Ying's arm. Even the thought of that sends a rush of heat through his whole body. He thinks, suddenly, that he's not going to make it, that he might just—

They get to his floor. They, somehow, get to his apartment. He unlocks the door with hands that do not tremble as he does so. He can hear Wei Ying breathing behind him, only slightly fast.

Lan Zhan is very, very hard.

He pushes the door open and looks at Wei Ying and, in the next moment, Wei Ying has flung himself into Lan Zhan's arms, kissing him and shoving him inside the apartment.

Lan Zhan is lost in the feel of Wei Ying's mouth against his own. He knows Wei Ying kicks the door shut with a bang. He knows he's got a hold of Wei Ying and is shoving him backwards until he hits a wall.

"Fuck," Wei Ying pants out, and then he's wrapping his legs around Lan Zhan as Lan Zhan hoists him bodily up against the wall.

He just wants to feel him.

"Please," Wei Ying is whining. He's so hard against Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan can't stop kissing him. "Please, I need, please—"

Lan Zhan wants to fuck Wei Ying up against this wall. Or he wants to grind against him here until he makes Wei Ying come. He remembers what it sounds like, the sounds Wei Ying makes as he gets closer to climax, and he wants to hear it again, so badly that he's shaking with it.

He tamps down all of those things and instead says, "What? Tell me what you need, Wei Ying." He lets himself suck Wei Ying's earlobe into his mouth, lets his tongue trace over the small silver loop there, lets himself tug on it just a little with his teeth, while Wei Ying whines in his ear.

"I—" Wei Ying is hitching up against him, his breath coming hot and fast. "I—" He doesn't seem to be able to get past that. That's okay. Lan Zhan is here to help him.

"My mouth?" he says, giving the earring one last tug before letting it slip out of his mouth, moving to nip gently along Wei Ying's jaw.

Wei Ying's entire body shudders against his and the heels of his boots dig into Lan Zhan's ass. "What would you—" He's struggling to get the words out. "What would you do with it?" He buries his face against Lan Zhan's neck, his forehead sweaty against Lan Zhan's skin. "Tell me. I want—tell me."

"I'd take you in my mouth," Lan Zhan says, feeling greatly daring, nearly drunk. "I'd pin you against the wall with my hands." He pushes his face against Wei Ying's neck, bites down, reveling in the groan that Wei Ying lets out. "I'd take you down deep," he says. "I'd keep you there."

Wei Ying whimpers and one leg slides down to brace against the floor. Lan Zhan allows it. "I'd keep you on the edge," he continues, making an effort to keep his tone matter of fact, the way he lectures newer cultivators, even as his voice comes out raspy with need. "I wouldn't let you come," he says. "I'd use my mouth, my tongue, but I'd keep you right there, just—" He licks up Wei Ying's neck, where sweat is dripping down. He tastes of salt, of need. "I'd keep you there until you begged," he continues.

"Yeah, I—" Wei Ying is digging his heel in hard against Lan Zhan's back, his other foot braced on the floor, his hips shoving forward again, and again. "Fuck, Lan Zhan, I—please, please."

Wei Ying isn't going to last long enough for a blowjob. Wei Ying isn't going to last long enough for begging. Lan Zhan shoves his hand in between them, thumbs open the button on Wei Ying's jeans. He's not certain, actually, that Wei Ying is going to last long enough for Lan Zhan to get a hand on him.

"Fuck," Wei Ying says thickly, his other leg dropping to brace against the floor as he pushes Lan Zhan's hand away, shakily opens his zipper, shoving his jeans and his underwear as far down his thighs as he can. "I need—" He trembles and Lan Zhan's heart soars. "I need—"

Lan Zhan could break to pieces, hearing Wei Ying pant those words against his neck. He wraps his hand around Wei Ying—so hard, so warm, so desperate—and strokes him.

"Ah, ah." Wei Ying thrusts into Lan Zhan's hand. "Please, oh my god, I need to—I need to—" He's got his hand on Lan Zhan's head, bringing their mouths together even as he thrusts forward again, and again.

Lan Zhan revels in it when Wei Ying moans, loud and long, against his lips, shuddering and coming in quick, hot spurts, right in his hand. Feeling Wei Ying come like that, getting to see Wei Ying open his eyes in the next moment, his face flushed and his eyes hot, but right there with Lan Zhan, one hundred percent there—

He kisses Wei Ying then, kisses him until Wei Ying is sagging back against the wall, making soft sounds into Lan Zhan's mouth, curling his hand into Lan Zhan's hair. Lan Zhan's own arousal slams back into him.

He drops to his knees in front of Wei Ying.

"Oh fuck." Wei Ying is looking down at him, eyes sharp and hot. "Fuck, yeah." He swallows and cups Lan Zhan's jaw, running his thumb over Lan Zhan's lips. His cock—still soft but already starting to get hard again—is so close to Lan Zhan's mouth.

"Not too soon?" Lan Zhan murmurs. He wants to hear Wei Ying tell him what he wants. He ignores his own cock throbbing in his pants, desperate for touch. He can wait.

Wei Ying is shaking his head, watching Lan Zhan with deep intensity.

"Good." Lan Zhan takes his half-hard dick in his mouth, loving the soft gasp Wei Ying gives above, the feel of Wei Ying's hands on his shoulders. The feel of Wei Ying getting harder in his mouth is a revelation. He tracks the feeling of it, the kick Wei Ying's cock gives as he moves his mouth on it, how it grows slowly until it fills his mouth entirely.

Wei Ying lasts longer this time around, fucking Lan Zhan's mouth as he mutters curses up above him. Lan Zhan desperately needs something against his own cock, but he can't bring himself to let go of Wei Ying's hips where he has them pinned against the wall. Wei Ying's legs are spread as far as they can be, hampered by the jeans still around his thighs. Lan Zhan can feel his booted feet braced against the floor as he spreads his own knees wide, his pants tightening over his cock. Even that small amount of friction makes him need to thrust his hips forward, makes him moan around Wei Ying.

"Fuck, you're into this." Wei Ying's voice is tight, his hands clenching at Lan Zhan's hair. "I can see you," he says. "I can see how into this you are. You—fuck." He's panting now, as Lan Zhan sinks down further, letting himself zone out on the rhythm, relaxing into it until—

"Oh my fucking god, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying gasps as his dick slides all the way in, nudging at his throat.

Lan Zhan loves the breathless way Wei Ying speaks when he's all the way in Lan Zhan's mouth. He loves the feel of swallowing around Wei Ying. He loves the sharp, salty taste against his tongue. He lets Wei Ying slide almost all the way back out, lets himself mouth at the soft head of his cock for a few moments while Wei Ying pants and curses above him, before taking him all the way back down again, as slowly as he can.

Wei Ying pants out a laugh above him. "Show-off," he says, the end of it catching on a groan. "Fuck, you're such a—I love it so much, fuck, do it again."

Lan Zhan does. He does it until he can't take it anymore, until Wei Ying needs the rhythm more than the depth. He wraps his hand around Wei Ying and picks up the pace, his own hips moving as he does it. Wei Ying is making so much noise above him, panting and saying, "Yes, fuck, yes, like that, don't stop, I'm—"

Lan Zhan digs his fingers into Wei Ying's hips and Wei Ying cries out and comes, doubling over with the force of it, his own hands braced on Lan Zhan's shoulders as he spills across Lan Zhan's tongue.

Lan Zhan lets him slide out, sitting back on his haunches and biting his lip as his pants pull even more tightly across the front where he's so, so hard. Wei Ying has his head tilted back against the wall, his breath coming in short gasps. His jeans are halfway down his thighs, his cock is softening, his t-shirt wet with sweat. He looks beautiful.

Lan Zhan thinks, for a moment, that he might come right here, without even being touched.

Wei Ying has a different idea. He blinks his eyes open, looking down at Lan Zhan. "Fuck," he says. "That took the edge off." He blinks again, his gaze going hot and dark. "Bedroom," he says. "I'm—nowhere near done." He yanks his jeans up, leaving them open. He bends down, fumbling with the laces on his boots and muttering curses under his breath.

Lan Zhan bites his lip hard and struggles to his feet. He toes his own shoes off swiftly, pressing one hand against the front of his pants as he does so.

"Is that okay?" Wei Ying asks as he tugs Lan Zhan down the hall.

"My room," Lan Zhan says tightly. "Bigger bed."

"Yes," Wei Ying says, shoving the door open and tumbling Lan Zhan onto the bed. "Good thought. Fuck, I want your dick." He shoves his jeans and underwear down and off, shrugging off his t-shirt almost as an afterthought.

"I'm not going to last very long," Lan Zhan warns as Wei Ying crawls up over him. Completely naked. Gloriously naked. Lan Zhan is definitely not going to last very long at all.

"Well, then." Wei Ying is straddling him. "Let's get you off."

Lan Zhan doesn't bite back the groan as Wei Ying shoves his shirt up, tracing his fingers over his stomach before sliding them down to open up his pants. He doesn't have the wherewithal to stop his hips from thrusting up as Wei Ying puts his hand on Lan Zhan's cock without hesitation.

"Please," Lan Zhan says, his voice coming out surprisingly rough. "I'm—" He doesn't get the chance to finish the sentence, because Wei Ying is pulling his cock out of his underwear, stroking it fast and rough. He's talking again, because he is Wei Ying and he never stops talking. Lan Zhan loves it, he's caught up in it, in the sound of Wei Ying's voice.

"You're so fucking close," Wei Ying says. "Fuck, you're so close, I can feel it."

Lan Zhan has his hands on Wei Ying's hips, his skin warm and soft underneath his hands. Wei Ying's grip on him is unrelenting, and Lan Zhan is captivated by it—by the way Wei Ying is stroking him, by the way Wei Ying is looking at him. He looks like he wants to eat him alive. Lan Zhan feels like he might let him if given the chance.

"God, you're big," Wei Ying is saying. "I felt it afterwards; I felt it for days afterwards."

Something must spiral across Lan Zhan's face because Wei Ying's mouth crooks up in a smile and he says, "I want to feel it again."

Oh. Oh god, Lan Zhan is close. He's—

"I'm gonna make you come," Wei Ying murmurs, almost chanting. "I'm gonna make you come and it's gonna feel so good and then I'm gonna get you hard again, because fuck, fuck, I'm so fucking horny, I could die from it. Oh—" He pauses, his thighs tightening around Lan Zhan's hips. "Tell me, please, I want—"

"I'm going to come." The words feel wrenched from Lan Zhan's chest and he trembles against Wei Ying's grip and in the next second, he's coming all over his own stomach, nearly up to his chest. Wei Ying gasps like he's the one who's coming, as he strokes Lan Zhan through it, the last of it dripping down over Wei Ying's fingers.

"Fuck," Wei Ying pants, and something about how he uses profanity in bed sounds like praying. Lan Zhan is buzzing with orgasm and he thinks he could get hard again in minutes if Wei Ying would only keep talking.

"Fuck," Wei Ying says again. He's hard, again. His cock is standing out, hard enough to look painful, like he hadn't just come—hadn't just come in Lan Zhan's mouth—ten minutes ago. Wei Ying gets wet when he's turned on like this—Lan Zhan had tasted it, as he leaked into his mouth, and he can see it now, as precome wells up on the tip.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, his voice tight. "Okay, you're sure, right? You're sure about this? Fuck, I hope you're sure about this."

Lan Zhan is having a hard time paying attention to what Wei Ying is saying, lost in watching the drop of precome trembling on the head of his cock, waiting for it to fall. When it does, landing on his stomach, he can't stop himself any longer. He flips Wei Ying onto his back in one movement. "I am sure," he says and then he can't stop himself from kissing Wei Ying, as intently as he knows how.

It stops Wei Ying from talking but it doesn't stop Lan Zhan's cock from giving a jump, like it would get hard right now if it were possible. Lan Zhan uses his refractory period to open Wei Ying up, while Wei Ying gasps under him. A different angle would be faster, easier, but he needs more than a moment and he wants to see Wei Ying's face as he does it.

It's a revelation, how Wei Ying's face, as he edges towards ecstasy, is an array of reactions that Lan Zhan didn't get to see the night of the curse. Wei Ying, uncursed, asks for specifics, intently. "Like that," he pants out, his dark eyes watching Lan Zhan's. "Keep going, I want—oh, oh—you can go harder. Please, harder, I want—oh, there, there."

Uncursed, Wei Ying arches into his touch, shivers through it, seems to get caught up in riding the edge. Lan Zhan is getting hard again, lost in the clutch of Wei Ying's body around his fingers, in the sound of his voice as Wei Ying grates out, "Oh fuck, Lan Zhan, you're so good, you're so—that's it, I need—oh fuck, ah."

Lan Zhan curls his fingers again, wanting to hear Wei Ying's voice break again.

"Please," Wei Ying says, curling his fingers around Lan Zhan's shoulders, holding him close. "Please, please, please—"

The nearly mindless chant makes Lan Zhan think of how subsumed Wei Ying had been in his need, the night of the curse. "Tell me," he demands, now. He wants Wei Ying here, with him. "Tell me," he says again, and he pushes his fingers in deeply, twisting them until Wei Ying's face screws up in pleasure. He presses his lips against Wei Ying's skin, mouthing at his neck.

"God." Wei Ying writhes underneath him. Lan Zhan is hard, now, fully so—ready, but he wants to hear it. "God, Lan Zhan." His body is curling up around Lan Zhan, his leg hooked over Lan Zhan's hip, his hand roaming over his side, his head tilted back as he pushes his hips up, his cock a hot brand against Lan Zhan's hip. "I need—" He looks up at Lan Zhan, pushing his hand into Lan Zhan's hair where it's fallen into his face. "I need this." It comes out on a breath of laughter, as he rocks his cock up against Lan Zhan. "But I suppose," he says, dragging Lan Zhan's head over to his so he can kiss him. "I suppose you, uh, figured that out."

"I did," Lan Zhan says. Or. "Well, I didn't. But I know now." He kisses the base of Wei Ying's throat, lets himself linger there.

Wei Ying spreads his legs, an open invitation. "Please," he says. "I need you to—please." He drags in a rough breath.

Lan Zhan fucks him. He's dizzy with it, with how it feels to sink inside Wei Ying, how it feels to have Wei Ying's legs over his shoulders, his body tight around him. He feels powerful, nearly reckless, and Wei Ying's desperate, whispered pleas aren't helping to alleviate the feeling.

"Yes," Wei Ying says, again, and again. He says yes. He says harder. He says more. Lan Zhan gives him everything he asks for.

Lan Zhan takes him to the brink and holds him there. He feels like he's been hard forever, like he could stay hard forever, so long as he can keep sinking into the clench of Wei Ying's body, so long as Wei Ying will keep begging him to keep going. "Don't stop, Lan Zhan," he pants out. "Don't stop, I'm nearly—I'm almost—I need—"

Lan Zhan has what he needs. Lan Zhan allows himself, in that moment where he teeters on the edge, to believe that he is what Wei Ying needs.

Then Wei Ying is gasping and coming underneath him, shaking like he's going to fall to pieces. Lan Zhan fucks him through it, wishing in some small part in his brain that he could taste it again. Wei Ying is holding onto him so tightly.

"God." When he's done, Wei Ying goes limp again, his head thrown back, his throat exposed. "God, you're good. You're so good, you're so—"

Lan Zhan shoves inside him one more time and comes. It throbs through him like a heartbeat. He thinks he's loud. He doesn't care.

He catches his breath with his forehead pressed against Wei Ying's shoulder, and then, when he slips out as he softens, kisses his way down Wei Ying's body until he's curled between his thighs. He licks the come off of Wei Ying's stomach, the taste of it sharp and salty on his tongue.

It goes on like this for weeks, and Lan Zhan knows he is not the one who is experiencing hormonal surges, but he gets caught up in it, just the same.

Pregnancy brings on a penchant for morning sex, which is outside the norm for Wei Ying. Lan Zhan knows this, because Wei Ying tells him, one day, as he rides Lan Zhan's dick in the early morning sunlight creeping through Lan Zhan's windows.

"I don't do this," he says, sinking all the way onto Lan Zhan's cock with a quiet gasp. "I don't—oh fuck, yeah, right there, just—" He grinds back, bracing himself on Lan Zhan's chest. He is incredibly tight around Lan Zhan's cock, pressing down hard, so all Lan Zhan can do is take it. "I sleep in." Wei Ying is almost whining, still holding Lan Zhan inside him as deep as he can get, just rocking back and forth on him.

"I know," Lan Zhan manages. He can't catch his breath. His heart is beating fast and hard. He had been sound asleep all of maybe three minutes ago and now—

"I just need it." Wei Ying lifts up a little now, then drops back down, the feel of it making Lan Zhan gasp. "Yeah, fuck, please, I—" He shakes his head, his hair falling messily over his shoulders, his face sleep-creased, his mouth red and wet and open. "I just need it so fucking bad."

He fucks Lan Zhan, riding him hard and fast now, working his hard cock with one hand while he keeps bracing himself on Lan Zhan with the other. He fucks him until he comes with a shudder and a long moan, spattering Lan Zhan's stomach with it. Lan Zhan, holding on desperately, waits until he's done, then flips him over and drives back inside him. He doesn't last very long, perhaps half a dozen long thrusts, but he comes with Wei Ying's panting in his ear, Wei Ying telling him how good he is, how much he needs him.

Lan Zhan decides that he also likes morning sex now.

They are well past the three month mark. Wei Ying is still not showing. They're both of them somewhat impatient now, equally interested in the physical manifestation of this life that has, until now, only revealed itself through nausea and horniness.

("It's because you're tall," Wen Qing says when they ask her.

Wei Ying stares at her. "What the fuck does that possibly have to do with it?"

Wen Qing closes the chart she's studying with a sharp click. "The fetus," she says, "is only about four inches long right now. You—" She points at Wei Ying, waving her hand up and down, indicating his whole length. Lan Zhan follows her gesture with his eyes. "You are very tall."

Wei Ying still stares at her blankly. He opens his mouth and Wen Qing says, tiredly, "Shh. Just—okay, what shows this early is not the baby, it's the uterus expanding. You have a long abdomen, so you have more space for the uterus to develop up, rather than out."

"Oh," both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan say at the same time.

"Don't worry." Wen Qing squints up at Wei Ying. "You'll pop—probably pretty soon—and then you'll miss being able to see your feet."

Both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan automatically look down at Wei Ying's feet.

"I love making people do that," Wen Qing says, cracking a smile. "Now get out, I have actual work to do.")

"We have to tell people." Lan Zhan has said it a few times now. Wei Ying's lips are set in a stubborn scowl. "It's going to be a lot more complicated if they just...notice."

Wei Ying sighs and slumps back against the corner of the couch. "I know," he says, scowling. He looks tired. He's been exhausted, lately—coming home from work every night and letting his bag slide to the floor, shoes barely off before he's face-down on the couch, asleep and drooling on the couch cushions.

Lan Zhan had woken him up for dinner, tempting him with rice mixed with too much soy sauce and just a dash of chili oil which, even though Wei Ying's near-constant nausea has largely subsided, are the only things he wants right now. He'd eaten the rice still half-asleep, his cheeks flushed, his eyes unfocused.

Now he's rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes. "I know," he says. "I know, I know. I know you're right. I know."

"Jiang Cheng," Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying groans, still covering his eyes.

"I think," Lan Zhan continues, "that committing to it makes it easier." He's given this some thought. "Shall we make a...pact?"

Wei Ying peeks out from behind his hands, looking interested. "A pact," he says.

"I'll text Lan Huan," Lan Zhan says. "And set up a time to talk."

Wei Ying groans, but pushes himself back up to sitting. "I guess the pact means I gotta text Jiang Cheng?"

"And commit," Lan Zhan says. "Once you've set it up, there is no choice but to follow through." He waits until Wei Ying picks his phone up, and then they both do it together.

"Okay." Wei Ying is staring down at his phone. "Okay. Okay. I'm doing it. I did it. I said tomorrow." His gaze darts up at Lan Zhan. "Will you come with me? You don't have to."

"Yes," Lan Zhan says.

"You really don't have to." Wei Ying slumps back miserably against the couch. "It's dumb. He's my brother. I can—"

"I'm glad you asked," Lan Zhan keeps his tone steady.

"Oh," Wei Ying says. His eyes are soft. "You don't have to," he says again.

"I want to." Lan Zhan does. He wants to see Jiang Cheng's face.

"Oh." Wei Ying's whole face—flickers. There's a whole range of emotion there, faster than Lan Zhan can follow. "Well. Good, I'm...glad." He looks up. "I told him we'd meet at Chali Chufang's."

Lan Zhan is the one, he imagines, whose expression now flickers. "A bar," he says.

"Obviously not for us," Wei Ying says hurriedly.

Lan Zhan feels that "us" right in the pit of his stomach.

"I figure if we're in public, there's only so mad he can get," Wei Ying continues. "Also, I can make him do a shot in celebration. Jiang Cheng gets emotional when he gets boozey." He glances up at Lan Zhan. "Crying emotional," he says quickly. "Not angry emotional."

Lan Zhan is dubious. "If we had him here, we could—"

Wei Ying cuts him off. "If we had him here," he says, "we'd be evicted. You'd be evicted," he corrects himself. "Jiang Cheng is loud. In public is better. He has to control himself."

"Mm." Lan Zhan has his doubts.

Wei Ying's continued horniness hits at the very worst times.

"I'm sorry," he says, pushing Lan Zhan into the stall in the bathroom. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I—" He shoves his mouth against Lan Zhan's, kissing him messy and hot and dragging his hand to the front of his jeans. "I just need—I just need—"

It's 6:30 on a Thursday night and they are in a bar and this is going to have to be very quick and very quiet. Lan Zhan shoves his hand into Wei Ying's pants at the same time as he clamps a hand over his mouth.

Wei Ying's whole body shudders against him and the strangled sound he makes is loud even against Lan Zhan's palm.

Lan Zhan gets his hand around Wei Ying and jerks him off fast and hard. He knows how Wei Ying likes it now—Wei Ying has told him in intimate detail, panting it against his ear, cataloguing what works best, what he needs now, now, now.

"Please," he says now, muffled against Lan Zhan's skin.

Lan Zhan moves his hand faster, listening for the bathroom door.

"Fuck." Lan Zhan feels it more than hears it, Wei Ying's breath hot against his palm. Wei Ying shudders and comes in the next moment, groaning against Lan Zhan's hand, spilling hot against him.

Lan Zhan catches most of it in his palm. He's able to wipe it off and get Wei Ying cleaned up, tucked away, with little evidence. After listening for a moment, he opens the stall door and they both move out, going to wash their hands at the sink. Lan Zhan catches Wei Ying's gaze in the mirror and can't help the smile that escapes, even though they still have the night ahead with Wei Ying's brother, even though Lan Zhan is still half-hard.

"Ugh." Wei Ying studies himself in the mirror, turning to the side for a moment, running his hand over his stomach. He still looks like himself. If Lan Zhan hadn't been with him, hadn't seen him through being sick, hadn't seen him through being wrought with hormones—he still wouldn't know. "Okay," he says then, with a deep breath. "Okay, let's go."

They emerge from the bathroom and Lan Zhan had thought they were right on time but Jiang Cheng is already sitting impatiently at a table in the corner, and a quick glance at his watch shows Lan Zhan that they're nearly five minutes late. As they get closer, he sees that Jiang Cheng has someone with him.

"Nie Huaisang? I didn't know you were coming!" Wei Ying sounds genuinely happy to see him, clapping him on the shoulder, then does the same to his brother. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and he's stony-faced as Wei Ying pats him, but Lan Zhan doesn't miss the moment where Jiang Cheng lets his hand clench tightly around Wei Ying's arm before pushing him away.

"You're late," he says as he sits down with a thump.

"Sorry." Wei Ying sits down, tugging Lan Zhan to sit beside him. He seems calmer, now that it's finally happening. "What are you doing here, Nie Huaisang?"

"I invited him," Jiang Cheng snaps. "What, you can bring Lan Zhan with you everywhere you go like an emotional support animal, but I can't have friends?"

Lan Zhan keeps his face impassive but lets his gaze bore into Jiang Cheng until he flushes and drops his eyes.

"Don't be a dick, Jiang Cheng." Wei Ying gives him a warning look before his face relaxes once again. "I haven't seen you in ages. Oh, right, Nie Huaisang, do you know Lan Zhan? This is Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, this is Nie Huaisang. He will deny it, but he is a very big troublemaker and you should never trust him." His tone is affectionate and he's beaming at Nie Huaisang.

"I certainly know of Lan Zhan," Nie Huaisang says. "Your family moves in well-known circles." He looks at Lan Zhan, his face open and curious. "Yet somehow we've never met personally." He doesn't even glance at Wei Ying as he says, "I am going to ignore the disparaging comments regarding my character. I have no idea what he's talking about."

"Lan Huan speaks highly of you." Lan Zhan keeps his gaze steady.

Wei Ying shoots a look at Lan Zhan and then back at Nie Huaisang. "Your brother knows Nie Huaisang?"

Nie Huaisang laughs, waving it off. "Oh, our older brothers have been best friends since their school days."

"Small world." Wei Ying turns his gaze towards Jiang Cheng. He leans forward over the table. "So listen."

"Oh god. Drinks first." Jiang Cheng looks around for the waiter.

"No, hang on, I want to—" Wei Ying shoots a desperate look at Lan Zhan. "Listen, just give me a second to—"

"Hi, what can I get you?" the waiter says cheerfully as he comes over to their table.

Jiang Cheng orders a pitcher of beer for him and Nie Huaisang and doesn't hesitate before ordering Wei Ying a rum and Coke.

Wei Ying presses his lips together, his eyes frustrated. "No, I'm—I don't want it. It's—"

"Tonic and lime, please," Lan Zhan says to the waiter. "For him, as well." He tilts his head towards Wei Ying.

"You got it!" The waiter heads off.

Jiang Cheng sits back with a huff, rolling his eyes. "What, now you expect me to believe you're a teetotaller? On the straight and narrow?"

"No, that's not—exactly it." Wei Ying shifts in his seat and Lan Zhan can almost see him trying to line the words up in his head.

"What, he won't let you?" Jiang Cheng says it with a sneer. "Now that you guys are—" He waves his hand between them. "Whatever it is you are, he wants you to be as dull as he is?"

"Jiang Cheng." Wei Ying's tone is sharper now. "I said, don't be a dick." He reaches out, rests his hand on Jiang Cheng's. Lan Zhan expects Jiang Cheng to slap it away, but he keeps his hand where it is, even though his jaw is jutting out tensely.

Nie Huaisang is watching the back and forth with avid curiosity.

"Just tell me." Jiang Cheng says. "Actually, hang on, here come the drinks." After the waiter is gone, Nie Huaisang pours them each a beer, nodding at Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying to continue.

Jiang Cheng pushes the rum and Coke towards Wei Ying, his lips flat. "Well?"

Wei Ying leaves the glass in front of him, staring over it at Jiang Cheng. "I'm not...thirsty."

Jiang Cheng barks out a laugh. "Has anyone ever seen Wei Ying turn down a drink?" He looks at Nie Huaisang, at Lan Zhan, at the bar as a whole as though all the strangers there will offer an opinion. "What the fuck is going on?"

Nie Huaisang, who is already halfway through his beer, peers across the table at Wei Ying. "Are you pregnant?"

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at Nie Huaisang and then chugs his own beer. "Shut up, I want him to tell me what's going on."

Wei Ying opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks at Nie Huaisang, then back at Jiang Cheng.

"Wei Ying, come on, stop fooling around." Jiang Cheng's eyes are flashing with anger.

Wei Ying gives him a helpless shrug.

"Oh my god, yes." Nie Huaisang leans forward. "How did it happen? Was it a weird sex ritual? Tell me the details."

"It wasn't not a weird sex ritual," Wei Ying says. "It was—it's complicated, I don't want to talk about it, I just wanted to tell you, Jiang Cheng." He reaches for Jiang Cheng's hand. "I wanted to tell you first."

Jiang Cheng looks absolutely furious. "There is no way you are pregnant," he says tightly, his voice dropping low on the last word. "Stop fucking around."

"Fucking around probably had something to do with it," Nie Huaisang says thoughtfully. "A...spiritual gangbang?" He leans further forward. "Was that it?"

"I am, though," Wei Ying says hotly to Jiang Cheng. "It happens." He glances at Nie Huaisang. "It wasn't a gangbang," he says to him. "Spiritual or otherwise."

"It doesn't 'happen.'" Jiang Cheng actually makes the quote mark movement with his hands.

"It does, though." Nie Huaisang shrugs, and refills their beers.

"Yeah, but." Jiang Cheng huffs. "You don't even have a uterus." He says that last part really loudly and flushes as he glances around the bar.

"I do now," Wei Ying says softly.

"Oh my fucking god." Jiang Cheng drops his head to the table. He says something muffled against the surface.

"Jiang Cheng, you know no one can understand you when you do that," Wei Ying says. He has a fond look on his face as he gazes at the top of Jiang Cheng's head.

Lan Zhan really doesn't understand their relationship.

"He said that he supposes that it's Lan Zhan's," Nie Huaisang supplies helpfully. "Is it? Is he your baby daddy? Did you fuck a baby into him?" he asks, turning to look at Lan Zhan with vivid interest.

"Oh my god," Jiang Cheng says at the same time as Wei Ying says, "Sort of."

Lan Zhan contemplates putting his own head down on the table, as well. It looks comforting.

"I thought this was just going to be you telling me that you're dating Lan Zhan!" Jiang Cheng bursts out, lifting his head. "Not that you're—god, I don't know, procreating with him? Starting a family with him? Marrying him?"

"We're not dating." Wei Ying stares at his brother, bewildered.

Lan Zhan catches a look from Jiang Cheng and has to make an effort to keep his face expressionless, instead of matching the look of "how is that fucking possible when you are a) fucking and b) having a baby together" on Jiang Cheng's face.

"Right," Jiang Cheng says flatly. "Well, what are you then?"

Lan Zhan can't help but look at Wei Ying to see what his answer is.

"We're—" Wei Ying pauses. He turns his gaze to Lan Zhan and his eyes grow soft. He reaches out to grab Lan Zhan's hands, dragging them closer.

"Lan Zhan is," he says, "my—he's my—I don't know, he's my—"

"How does the baby come out?" Nie Huaisang interrupts, his tone intently curious. "Is it an ass baby? Does it come out through your ass?"

Everyone at the table winces. "Nie Huaisang," Jiang Cheng says. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Nie Huaisang huffs out an exasperated breath. "It's an important question," he says.

He is not wrong.

And yet, Lan Zhan is waiting with bated breath for Wei Ying's answer. Not about the ass baby.

"We're—" Wei Ying's face softens. "Friends. Friends with...benefits."

Ah. Lan Zhan takes a careful sip of his lime and tonic.

"That makes no fucking sense at all." Jiang Cheng finishes his beer, looks at the empty pitcher, and reaches for the rum and Coke he'd ordered for Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan rarely agrees with Jiang Cheng but even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

"Continued benefits?" Nie Huaisang asks curiously. "Like, obviously you fucked when you got knocked up, but you're still doing it?" He waits a moment as they both don't answer, then looks at Jiang Cheng. "That was definitely what they were doing in the bathroom before they met us."

Jiang Cheng glares at Wei Ying. Lan Zhan looks steadily at his drink.

"I really wish I could do a shot right now," Wei Ying says softly.

Friends. Friends, with benefits. Friends, with benefits, who are having a baby together. That's what Wei Ying says they are, and Lan Zhan needs to accept that. This whole situation is strange and unsteady enough that he doesn't want to make things more complicated than they already very much are. Wei Ying was cursed into what has resulted in a definite life-changing set of circumstances and that fact that he's allowing Lan Zhan to be a part of that—well, that is important enough that Lan Zhan needs to accept Wei Ying's comfort level with it. Friends is—it's something. It's something Lan Zhan has somewhat lacked in his life and his friendship with Wei Ying is important enough to him that he will allow it to push past his usual boundaries. To push past any boundaries he's ever had about what his life might look like in the future.

That life now holds a baby. And he's allowed to be part of it. He needs to be happy with that.

He is happy with that.

Lan Zhan knows it's not possible that it happens overnight, but it feels like it does. One morning, Wei Ying shuffles into the kitchen, yawning, his hair half out of its ponytail. He makes his usual beeline to the coffee maker—he's allowed to have one cup of decaf a day.

("Decaf, Lan Zhan," he had complained. "Which is in and of itself offensive, but at least let me have that."

"Decaffeinated coffee still has 2.4 milligrams of caffeine in an average brewed cup," Lan Zhan had pointed out.

Wei Ying had stared at him in bitter disappointment.

Lan Zhan had tried to suggest switching to orzo coffee, which is made of pure barley and is healthy for pregnancies. "Because not only does it contain a lot of healthy nutrients for both you and the unborn child, it's also supposed to help reduce pregnancy-related water retention."

Wei Ying had stared at him some more, before closing his eyes for somewhat longer than a blink. "Please stop talking, Lan Zhan. Please, I'll—one cup of decaf. Just in the morning. I promise."

Lan Zhan had relented.)

Wei Ying sleeps largely in tank tops and shorts, made of very soft sweatshirt material. His tank top this morning says Science, Bitch and barely brushes the top of the shorts. "Lan Zhan," he says sleepily. "You are far too, like—" He yawns, waving his hand up and down in Lan Zhan's general direction. "Clean. And, like, dressed. For a Saturday morning."

Lan Zhan has, in fact, already been out for a run, and showered, and had breakfast. He's lingering at the small table in the kitchen, reading the paper as he finishes his second cup of tea. He cocks his head at Wei Ying. "I like a strong start to the day," he says, taking a sip and waiting for Wei Yiing's rejoinder.

"Me, too," Wei Ying says. "My strong start involves no alarm going off and a lot of coffee." He glances at Lan Zhan. "A single cup of sad coffee," he amends. When he reaches up to snag a coffee cup from the cabinet, the hem of his tank top rides up and Lan Zhan—who was already staring, and possibly shouldn't have been—says, "Wei Ying."

"What? I'm only going to have one, I swear." Wei Ying turns around fully and Lan Zhan can't stop himself from getting up and moving over to him. "What, I—oh." He looks down at himself, at where Lan Zhan's gaze is resting. "Oh, fuck me."

Seemingly overnight, his belly has—popped. It's pushed forward, the thin black fabric of his tank top riding up over it again, the waistband of the shorts sliding down just a little. It's a definite belly.

They're both staring down at it. Wei Ying reaches down, pushing his shirt up, and it stays, resting on the curve of his stomach. "Oh man, that's weird. That's so fucking weird."

Lan Zhan is mesmerized by it. He wants to touch it. He wants, suddenly, to lick it. It's the strangest possible reaction and he bites the inside of his cheek, hard, in order to push it aside. "Wei Ying," he says again, because it's apparently all he can say right now.

"Uh-huh." Wei Ying is just looking down, still. He fumbles his coffee cup to the counter. He puts both hands near his belly, but keeps them just hovering there, like he can't quite bring himself to touch it.

"You're—that's—" Something about it, about seeing it, seeing the very physical manifestation of it, makes the pregnancy suddenly, profoundly real, in a manner it previously had not been.

"Uh-huh," Wei Ying says again. It comes out tight and when Lan Zhan looks up at him, he realizes that Wei Ying has basically stopped breathing.

He takes Wei Ying's arm. "Do you need to sit down? You should sit down."

"What?" Wei Ying looks up at him, finally drawing a weird, gasping breath. "Fuck, Lan Zhan, I gotta sit down." His legs seem to give out underneath him and he sinks to the kitchen floor.

Lan Zhan ends up following him down. They're sprawled together on the floor, staring at the swell of Wei Ying's belly. Lan Zhan should say something. He should get Wei Ying up off of the chilly linoleum. He should—

"Oh my fucking god," Wei Ying breathes. "There's a baby in there." He gingerly puts one hand against the bump. "Oh, weird," he says. "Oh, weird, oh, weird oh—" He reaches out and grabs Lan Zhan's hand, fumbles it to press against Wei Ying's stomach.

Their fingers are tangled together. Wei Ying's stomach just...feels like a stomach, but the curve of his belly is so strange—he's so thin, so rangy, his stomach usually practically concave. To feel it like this, to see the very clear bump under their hands—it makes what's happening seem much more real.

"Wen Qing," Lan Zhan manages after a moment, "did say that when you did start to show, it would happen...all at once."

"Lan Zhan." Wei Ying is looking up at him. His hand is sweaty against Lan Zhan's. The skin of his belly is warm, and his shorts have ridden down and Lan Zhan is aware that being aroused right now is wholly inappropriate. "Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says again, urgently. "We're having a baby. There's a baby in there," he says again. "Oh god, I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down." Lan Zhan thinks that, were he prone to hysterical laughter, he'd be doing so right now. It feels like there are bubbles in his stomach.

Wei Ying does giggle—it rings loudly in the still air of the kitchen. "I need to lie down, then." He does so, sliding back until he's flat on the floor, which makes the rise of his stomach even more obvious.

Lan Zhan can't stop looking.

"Come down here with me," Wei Ying demands. "It feels good. The floor is cool. I'm overheating. I think I'm in shock. Am I in shock? Is this what being in shock feels like?"

Lan Zhan, after a moment, does lie down on the floor with him. It feels like the right thing to do. Wei Ying reaches out blindly and grabs his hand again. He drags it back over, so their hands are resting together against Wei Ying's stomach again. They stare up at the kitchen ceiling.

"A baby," Wei Ying says again, faintly.

"A baby," Lan Zhan echoes, and makes a mental note to wipe down the light fixture the next cleaning day.

Wei Ying, it turns out, loves the baby bump. When he's dressed for work, it's not hugely noticeable at this point. He has a tendency to pair the work-issued uniform pants with t-shirts and hoodies, and his normal regulation boots with the pink skull-printed laces. Everything still fits right now and to look at him, you wouldn't necessarily know.

"You don't have to tell people at work yet," Wen Qing says. "Or at all, if you don't want to, but it is going to get pretty obvious at some point. You might want to consider telling people while you can still control it."

Wei Ying is taken with the idea of not saying anything and just getting more and more pregnant and never saying a word about it, with the cultivation rumor mill going crazy.

Lan Zhan points out that people already know something is going on, due to them spending so much time locked in Wen Qing's lab. On top of that, it would probably be a good idea for the various teams to know that they might need some extra support as the months go along.

"We won't need extra support." Wei Ying sounds extremely offended. "This isn't going to change anything. I can do everything I used to do, even with a baby, Lan Zhan."

Wen Qing looks up at Wei Ying in exasperation. "You have absolutely no idea how big you're going to get, do you?"

Wei Ying's hand is curved over his stomach the way it has been a lot lately. It's completely unconscious and Lan Zhan is pretty sure they're not going to have to tell a whole lot of people if it keeps going this way—however unusual the situation, it's pretty clear what's going on, if you take a moment to look.

"It'll be fine," Wei Ying says stubbornly.

"Anyway." Wen Qing appears to give up. "You have some time to figure it out, but not much."

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan says it quietly.

Wei Ying deflates a little. "Well." He reaches up and tightens his ponytail. "We've already told Nie Huaisang, I guess." He looks glumly at Lan Zhan. "If Nie Huaisang knows, everyone will know soon." He looks down at his stomach—still disguised, just the smallest curve under the thin fabric of the t-shirt. "It's gonna be weird."

"Everyone here is used to weird." Wen Qing yawns behind her clipboard. "Okay, get out, I need more coffee."

"Thanks, Wen Qing," Wei Ying says absently, shooting her a smile.

She rolls her eyes and taps her foot impatiently, but Lan Zhan sees the corner of her mouth turn up as Wei Ying turns away.

At home, though, Wei Ying revels in it. He's warm all the time—it's November now and turning wintery outside, but the moment he walks in the door from work, he's stripping off his hoodie and immediately heading to his room to change. He'll emerge in shorts that are tiny enough to border on the obscene, often paired with an ancient, threadbare t-shirt from his high school days, short enough to ride up over his belly, which is now persistently poking out and getting bigger week by week.

Lan Zhan will go into his own room when he gets home to brush his hair and re-do his half-ponytail. He'll change out of his work clothes into jeans and a button-down before washing his face and moisturizing.

("Pajamas are for bedtime, Wei Ying."

"Soft clothes are all the time clothes, Lan Zhan!")

They don't have a set dinner plan, however much Lan Zhan has tried to institute one.

"I can't predict what the baby will want, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying will say cheerfully, when Lan Zhan emails him possible recipes for the week, along with a suggested meal plan. "This all looks good right now, but the kid is a wild card! I don't know what to tell you!"

Wei Ying basks in the changes to his body. He revels in saying "the baby" or "the kid." His mouth curves around those words and his face lights up and, over and over again, Lan Zhan will look on with wonder, and think about how it was a curse that got them here, and how strange that is.

Lan Zhan emerges from his room after getting changed and finds Wei Ying in the kitchen, dancing to Taylor Swift as he puts together a messy stir fry. His exposed thighs as he moves around the kitchen are mesmerizing, and his stomach pushing forward against his shirt, the line of hair leading down from the curve of it into the waistband of his shorts, draws the eye.

No matter how much Lan Zhan tries to let Wei Ying take the lead on their sexual liaisons, he cannot stop himself from moving forward now, coming up behind Wei Ying to put his hands on his belly, bury his face against his neck, press his burgeoning erection against the curve of his ass.

Wei Ying's arousal, seemingly always simmering beneath the surface, makes him respond to the touch with a high giggle, a hand pushed back over his shoulder to rest against Lan Zhan's face for a moment before turning around in his arms and pushing up into a kiss.

Lan Zhan can't resist sinking to his knees, giving into the urgent desire to run his tongue along the curve of Wei Ying's belly, tasting the skin there. He lets it slide along the waist of Wei Ying's shorts, his hands curled on Wei Ying's hips, his thumbs sinking below the waistband to push the shorts further down.

"The food," Wei Ying gasps above him, but doesn't push Lan Zhan away.

Lan Zhan reaches out an unerring hand, flicks off the burner, and then urges Wei Ying back until he's pressed up against the counter. "This won't take long."

"Please," Wei Ying says, breathless and high-pitched, his hand in Lan Zhan's hair. His cock is pressed hard against the front of the shorts, indecent and compelling.

Lan Zhan pulls the shorts down Wei Ying's thighs, easing them over his erection while Wei Ying babbles above him. "Please, your mouth, I need—fuck, fuck."

The sounds he makes as Lan Zhan takes him in his mouth are ones Lan Zhan will never tire of hearing. Wei Ying curses and pants, his cock leaking profusely against Lan Zhan's tongue. Lan Zhan wants to taste it, wants to feel it. He goes down deep almost at once, taking Wei Ying in until Wei Ying has no more words, just frantic, desperate sounds of need.

He has his thumbs stroking over the curve of Wei Ying's stomach as Wei Ying shudders and comes down his throat with a hoarse shout.

"Oh," Wei Ying pants out afterwards, clutching at Lan Zhan's shoulders as his knees tremble with aftershocks. "Oh, your fucking mouth, Lan Zhan." He traces his fingers over it as Lan Zhan slowly releases his cock. "Let me—" Wei Ying starts, but his stomach grumbles with hunger—they both grin as they hear it.

"After dinner." Lan Zhan rises to his feet in a smooth motion, despite his erection pressing forward against his jeans.

"Oh, but you're so—" Wei Ying is staring down at his cock with avid interest, but he's also glancing towards the wok on the stove.

"After," Lan Zhan says, flicking the burner back on. "I can wait."

After dinner, Wei Ying is sleepy and sated. Lan Zhan pulls him close on the couch and puts on the television, turned low. "But you—" Wei Ying murmurs, even as his head gets heavy against Lan Zhan's shoulder.

"It's early," Lan Zhan says quietly. "You're fine."

Wei Ying takes a postprandial nap, slipping down to rest his head on Lan Zhan's thigh. Prior to pregnancy, he'd been fidgety whenever he fell asleep on the couch—constantly turning, rearranging himself, hands restless.

Now, when he sleeps, he sleeps hard, sliding into it like he's been pulled under. He doesn't move—occasional twitches as he dreams, but little else. He's a comforting weight next to Lan Zhan on the couch, his head heavy on his leg. Lan Zhan turns off the television once Wei Ying is well and truly asleep, and allows himself to run his fingers through Wei Ying's hair with one hand as he rests the book he's reading against the arm of the couch with the other. It makes turning the pages slightly challenging, but the feel of Wei Ying's slow breathing, the way he curls up closer to Lan Zhan before settling deeper into his nap—he can't bring himself to mind.

Wei Ying rouses after not too long—just an hour or so. Initially, Lan Zhan was concerned these evening naps would result in Wei Ying staying up too late, unable to sleep afterwards, but Wei Ying's eyelids almost always start drooping right around Lan Zhan's preferred bedtime of nine pm. It has assuaged Lan Zhan's concerns.

"Sorry." Wei Ying pushes himself to sitting, scrubbing his hands over his face. His ponytail is askew and his cheek is creased from pressing against Lan Zhan's jeans. Lan Zhan's arousal, which he had pushed aside, kicks up again. "God, I went down hard. Is it tomorrow? It feels like tomorrow."

He's cross-legged on the couch beside Lan Zhan. The inside of his thighs are pale and lean and his bony knee is pressed against Lan Zhan's thigh. Lan Zhan carefully puts the bookmark in his book and sets it aside. "It is not tomorrow." He glances at the clock. It's not even 7:30. "It's early, still."

"Oh." Wei Ying yawns and stretches. His shirt rides up over his belly again and Lan Zhan feels hot all over. "Oh, good, I'm glad."

Lan Zhan has been watching, and he's fairly certain that the way Wei Ying moves now is more deliberate than it was before he'd started showing. He thinks Wei Ying likes the belly; he thinks his movements are more languid, more—sexy. Overtly sexual.

He qualifies his certainty only due to the fact that he finds Wei Ying so profoundly appealing—even more so than before, which had not been insubstantial—that at this stage he's constantly, consistently aroused by his very presence. And, at times, even the mere idea of him.

Wei Ying shifts next to him now, and Lan Zhan brings his eyes up from where they had been lingering on the strip of skin showing above his shorts. "So," Wei Ying says, his eyes sparkling. "I think we said something about an after dinner activity?" He moves, getting his knees under himself and slipping into Lan Zhan's lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around his neck.

Lan Zhan goes from simmering arousal to full hardness so fast that he feels nearly dizzy with it. This is what Wei Ying does to him.

"Is this okay?" Wei Ying is moving languidly against him and he's hard, as well—he'd woken up at least halfway there, from what Lan Zhan has observed, in those shorts that hide nearly nothing. "I'm so—fuck, Lan Zhan." He buries his face against Lan Zhan's neck, as he moves against him. "I'm so fucking primed for it, all the time." His face is warm again Lan Zhan's neck and Lan Zhan allows himself to grasp Wei Ying's hips, dragging him close. "Can we—" Wei Ying has to stop, swallow, before he can continue. "Can we do it here? I want—is that okay?" He lifts his head and takes Lan Zhan's face in his hands, kissing him deep and wet and hot. "Is there lube?"

Embarrassingly, there is. After a few make-out sessions on the couch, with Wei Ying desperate and whining for more, seemingly unable to make it to the bedroom without losing his mind, Lan Zhan had placed some in the drawer of the coffee table. They have used it to smooth the way for frantic handjobs only—they have largely restricted actual fucking to one of their bedrooms.

But given the way Wei Ying looks right now—the heat in his eyes, the slight softness in the line of his jaw that is new in this stage of pregnancy, how he's glowing with desire—Lan Zhan cannot deny him.

It takes them a moment to manage the situation—Wei Ying sliding off Lan Zhan's lap just long enough to shove his shorts off, Lan Zhan getting his pants open and pushed down just enough. Wei Ying clambers back on top of Lan Zhan. He opens himself up, his fingers working inside himself faster than Lan Zhan would have approached it. He has his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes closed, small moans escaping as he does it.

When he pulls his fingers out, he wraps his hand around Lan Zhan, getting him wet. "Please," he pants out, groaning with exasperation when Lan Zhan fumbles for the lube, spilling more onto Wei Ying's fingers. "Please, I—"

Lan Zhan wraps his hand around Wei Ying's, moving it up and down his cock. Both of them are breathing loud and heavy, Wei Ying's eyes lidded as he stares down at Lan Zhan.

When Wei Ying says, "Now, now, please, I need—now," Lan Zhan groans deep in his throat and pulls Wei Ying onto his cock. Lan Zhan is so hard, the arousal that's been swirling inside him since he got home at a fever pitch now.

When Wei Ying sinks fully onto him, he's not sure which one of them groans more loudly. Wei Ying's body is hot and tight around him, and he's got his hands braced on Lan Zhan's shoulders, using the angle to his full advantage. He can ride him hard here, his thighs taut, muscles standing out, his head thrown back, cock hard and dark.

Lan Zhan can only hold on, his hands clenched against Wei Ying's hips. Wei Ying fucks him into oblivion, fucks him until Lan Zhan can't remember his own name, fucks him until the only thing he can think or feel is Wei Ying.

"Fuck," Wei Ying is nearly sobbing above him—he's beautiful as he moves, messy hair streaming down his back, t-shirt rucked up, his belly pushed out roundly. "I can't—" He falls forward, pressing his head against Lan Zhan's neck, hips still working, Lan Zhan deep inside him. He has Lan Zhan pinned—he can't move, can't thrust, can only take it. "I need to—fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to—"

He can't seem to unclench his hands from Lan Zhan's shoulders. He moves again, keeping Lan Zhan in deep, rocking against him. His cock—hard, hot, wet—is pressing against Lan Zhan's body with every move. It can't possibly be enough, but the way Wei Ying is trembling against him—he's riding that edge.

It's incredibly erotic. Lan Zhan's cock feels like it gets even harder inside of Wei Ying and he's suddenly very close. He grits his teeth—his head is thrown back and his body tense and he wants to come, he wants Wei Ying to take him in deep and hold him there and let Lan Zhan shudder to a perfect climax as far inside him as he can possibly get.

He holds on, somehow, teetering on the edge, as Wei Ying thrusts down onto him again, and again, the wet heat of his cock stroking against him each time. "Ah," Wei Ying is gasping, his voice high-pitched and imbued with desperation. "Ah, I'm—ah, oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—" After so long, it happens suddenly enough to suprise both of them, Wei Ying coming with hard, hot spurts against Lan Zhan's stomach, his face a perfect portrait of surprised ecstasy.

Lan Zhan needs—he just needs—he's got his hands clenched hard on Wei Ying's hips and he lifts him up and brings him back down on his cock, Wei Ying nearly limp, moaning. Lan Zhan does it once, twice, and comes, his hips shoving up as much as he can under Wei Ying's weight, holding himself in deep and shuddering through one of the most intense orgasms of his entire life.

It takes him a long time to come down from it. When he manages to open his eyes, Wei Ying is limp against him, his head against Lan Zhan's shoulder, his breath still coming in shuddering gasps.They're both sweat-soaked and Lan Zhan's hands are clenched so hard around Wei Ying's hips that he wonders if he's left marks. This close, he can feel the swell of Wei Ying's belly as he breathes.

He feels like small jolts of energy are still banging around inside his brain. When Wei Ying lifts his head and looks down at him, he looks the way Lan Zhan feels deep in his chest. His expression is wondering, his eyes warm, his mouth half-open. "Lan Zhan," he says, and stops. With one shaky hand, he pushes Lan Zhan's hair back out of his eyes.

Wei Ying is looking at him so intently Lan Zhan can hardly breathe. Lan Zhan knows that sex does not equate love; that it can be easy to get caught up in physical ecstasy and mistake it for such. He knows that.

He also knows that this is the kind of physical act of intimacy and desperation and wild abandon that involves not just need, but the sort of trust and knowledge that can tip one over into believing otherwise.

Wei Ying's watching him, his hand still caught in Lan Zhan's hair. Lan Zhan wants nothing more than to tug him down into a kiss.

He thinks, if he does that, he might never come back from this.

Instead, he takes a breath, and then another. He allows himself to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Wei Ying's ear.

"We should—" he says, shifting a tiny bit.

"Right." Wei Ying's eyes flicker for the barest moment. He shifts his hips, a grin spreading across his face. "Oof," he says. "This is gonna be messy." Lan Zhan feels the muscles move in Wei Ying's thighs as he prepares to lift himself off of Lan Zhan. "I guess that's a good reason not to fuck on the couch."

"Microfiber," Lan Zhan says vaguely, lost in the feel of his soft cock slipping out of Wei Ying as he lifts off of him.

"What?" Wei Ying is giggling at him. Lan Zhan feels the sound of it get caught in his heart for half a moment. Wei Ying isn't wrong—things are quite wet all around them now.

"The couch," Lan Zhan clarifies, "is microfiber." He feels a soft smile spreading across his face, as Wei Ying tumbles down beside him, making an even bigger mess. "It will clean up fine."

"Lan Zhan." Wei Ying is giggling harder now, his face pressed against the couch. "You divine weirdo."

"I know." Lan Zhan watches him. "I know."

They somehow make it until Wei Ying is five months along before they have to tell Lan Qiren, who is their boss and, relatedly, Lan Zhan's uncle.

"I submit quarterly reports," Wen Qing says flatly, unaffected by Wei Ying's beseeching eyes. "I just submitted one before you told me what actually happened when you got cursed. And while it might seem huge to you—" She pauses, scribbles something down on one of a myriad of notepads on her desk, "- it actually didn't constitute its own specific update." She glances up at them. "It does affect our health and safety figures, though. It's included in this month's report."

Wei Ying makes a sort of strangled sound and slumps into the chair by her desk. Lan Zhan can't wholly blame him.

"I'm submitting it today," Wen Qing continues.

Wei Ying continues to make strangled sounds, burying his face in his hands.

"He wants them submitted in paper form." She glances up at the clock. "I'm really busy right now, so I'm probably going to forget to put it in his inbox until he's already gone for the day." She looks up at the two of them. "In which case he won't see it until morning."

"Ah," Lan Zhan says.

"Ah is right." She keeps looking at them. "He gets in early."

They both look at her.

"So I'd be on time," she said. "Were I looking to be on his good side."

"Sure," Wei Ying says, muffled behind his hands.

"Sure." She crosses her arms. "Get out of my office?"

"Right." Wei Ying pushes himself up. "Sure. C'mon, Lan Zhan. Let's head home for our last night before our sudden and inevitable demise. Nice working with you, Wen Qing. I'll miss you when we get fired tomorrow."

"Out," she says distractedly, waving them away.

Wei Ying makes another strangled noise as he stomps out. Lan Zhan trails behind him.

That night, Wei Ying falls asleep before dinner, sprawled on the couch, drooling against the cushions. Lan Zhan believes it's a form of escapism, endeavoring not to think about tomorrow. Still, it gives him the opportunity to retreat to his bedroom and call his brother, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He hasn't been avoiding fulfilling his part of the pact he'd made with Wei Ying, to tell their siblings. Not exactly. But Lan Huan travels frequently, and this isn't something Lan Zhan wanted to rush into. He'd been looking for the right moment, preferably in person. Unfortunately, the universe does not often care about finding the right moments.

"Lan Zhan," Lan Huan answers, sounding happy to hear from him. Lan Zhan realizes, abruptly, that he hasn't called him in several weeks. "It's so good to hear from you!"

"I apologize for not being in touch," Lan Zhan says. "I've been busy." It's not untrue. "I have some news."

"Ah?" Lan Huan sounds interested, even that one word imbued with genuine curiosity. Lan Zhan is hit again with an immediate sense that he should endeavor to share more of his life with his brother.

Lan Zhan has lined the words up in his brain again and again, in preparation of telling his brother for months, even while failing to do so. "There was an incident at work some months back," he says steadily, "which resulted in Wei Ying becoming pregnant."

"Ah." Lan Huan still sounds interested. Confused, but interested. Lan Zhan allows him a moment. "A... spiritual impregnation?"

Lan Huan is, of course, a cultivator as well, though he's been promoted beyond Lan Zhan's level and is the head of his own unit. He understands, perhaps more than most, what level of oddities can happen in their line of work. Lan Zhan has counted on that. "Not exactly," he says. He doesn't let himself pause before continuing. "It's mine. Ours."

"Oh." Lan Huan is silent for an endless series of moments. "Oh, Lan Zhan." He sounds pleased.

Lan Zhan doggedly continues. "We plan to raise the child together."

"Lan Zhan." Now Lan Huan sounds delighted. Which is terrible.

"Wei Ying has moved in with me," Lan Zhan says, keeping his voice steady. He cuts through Lan Huan's excited intake of breath. "Temporarily. He'll stay until the baby is born, and once he's recovered, we'll work out a plan of shared custody and co-parenting."

"Oh." Lan Huan's tone is...carefully neutral.

Lan Zhan ruthlessly holds shut the hole in his heart through which his absurd longing rushes at the smallest instigation. "Uncle will receive the official report in the morning," Lan Zhan continues, "regarding what transpired." He pauses, feeling like he has to catch his breath, even though all he's been doing is sitting here. "I wanted to tell you. First."

Lan Huan is quiet for a moment. "I'm glad you did," he says quietly. "Lan Zhan, are you—"

"Please don't." Lan Zhan maintains his tone. He's pleased with it—it comes out steady, sure.

"Okay." Lan Huan lets the silence hold, and something about that lets Lan Zhan take his first deep breath in what feels like hours. "How far along is he?"

That's good. Lan Zhan can speak in facts and figures. "Five months." It seems like a long time to wait to tell his brother, he realizes suddenly. "We...wanted to be sure."

"I understand," says Lan Huan, sounding as though he actually does.

"Uncle will surely call you tomorrow." Lan Zhan pauses. "I'm sorry."

"No," Lan Huan says distractedly. "I can handle Uncle." There's a pause before he says, "I'm glad you told me." His voice is light. "I'm happy for you. I hope—"

Please, Lan Zhan thinks desperately. Please do not.

"I hope you'll let me know," Lan Huan says carefully, "if there's anything I can do."

"I will," Lan Zhan responds. He closes his eyes.

"Anything at all," Lan Huan says.

"I will," Lan Zhan says again. "Good night, brother."

"I wish you every happiness, Lan Zhan," Lan Huan responds softly.

Lan Zhan is so startled he hangs up without saying anything back.

They're at their desks very early the next morning. Or, well, Lan Zhan is at his desk, and Wei Ying is at Lan Zhan's desk too, sitting in his guest chair and chattering incessantly as they wait. Lan Zhan is dressed as neat and crisp as it is possible to be.

Wei Ying has recently outgrown his standard-issue pants. At five months along, it's becoming obvious he is pregnant. He'd fought against it when Lan Zhan had bought him jeans with a stretchy band across the middle. The marks his far-too-tight jeans had been leaving against his stomach were making Lan Zhan wince. After the first time Wei Ying tried on the jeans with the stretch panel, he was pretty much sold. "It's so good," he says, wiggling his hips. He's well and truly pregnant now—not huge, but there, making the tiny belly of the four month mark seem like almost nothing. "Like jeggings, but better."

He's in the pregnancy jeans now, dark faux-denim, with an actual uniform shirt on—unbuttoned, with a plain black t-shirt stretching over the curve of his belly under it, but still. He'd look almost appropriate, were it not for the boots with the pink skull laces, and the fact that he's pulled his hair into one high ponytail, as high as it can go, wrapped with a long red ribbon trailing down from the top. He's painted his nails a deep, dark crimson, as well. His jaw is set, his face stubborn, his belly obvious.

Like a matador to a bull, Lan Zhan thinks, looking at the red ribbon, the red nails, but he says nothing.

They don't have to wait long. Lan Zhan's uncle has always risen with the sun, and Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had driven in with dawn only just lapping against the skyline. Keeping Lan Qiren waiting, Lan Zhan was determined, would not be one of their faults.

Lan Qiren storms out of his office—nowhere near the rabbit warren of cultivator cubes but resonating through the entire office nonetheless. He comes directly to Lan Zhan's desk.

"You," he says, pointing at Wei Ying. "In my office."

Wei Ying pushes himself smoothly to his feet, boots planted, not allowing his belly to slow him down.

Lan Zhan rises as well.

Lan Qiren wheels on him. "I didn't ask for you to join us."

"This involves me." Lan Zhan keeps his tone even, his eyes calm.

Lan Zhan had not, before, considered that seething could be an actual, physical thing one could observe, but his uncle proves him wrong. He has the report clutched in his hand, Lan Zhan notes. Wen Qing has made it clear that Lan Zhan is involved. His uncle cannot argue.

"Correct." His uncle's eyes flash angrily in his direction. "Both of you. In my office. Now."

Once inside, Lan Qiren seated behind his desk, so angry he's almost vibrating with it, Wei Ying seems to shed all tension. Now that it's happening, he's relaxed, almost serene, standing in front of Lan Qiren's desk, with his back straight and his eyes curious.

Lan Qiren is glaring at them both. Lan Zhan expects his eyes to track over Wei Ying's defiant ponytail, his blood red nails, his boots that are not standard, but his uncle's whole focus is on Wei Ying's belly.

Lan Zhan realizes suddenly, fully, that Wei Ying was trying to draw attention away from the baby, to infuriate Lan Qiren in other ways.

Lan Qiren's eyes flicker from Wei Ying to Lan Zhan, his mouth growing thin and tight. "Shameful," he says.

Lan Zhan stares at him. He does not raise an eyebrow. He waits him out.

He can feel Wei Ying's anger beside him, but Wei Ying remains quiet.

"Shameful," his uncle says again, "and preposterous."

"Is that what Wen Qing's report says, sir?" Wei Ying says. "Preposterous?" He keeps his tone steady, his face serene.

Lan Qiren's face flushes. "It says you are—" He cuts himself off, gestures at Wei Ying's stomach. It seems like he can't even bring himself to say the word. It's funny, all of a sudden, and Lan Zhan feels a bubble of laughter rising up in him. He tamps it down.

"Expecting?" Wei Ying offers. "With child? In a delicate condition? Enceinte?"

It's the enceinte that does it. Lan Zhan shocks himself by laughing.

Wei Ying and Lan Qiren turn to him with nearly identical expressions of surprise on their faces.

Lan Zhan can't quite stop laughing right away. He has to take a gasping breath and work very hard to swallow it down. "Apologies," he manages. "You were saying?"

Wei Ying is the one who lets out a high, sharp giggle then, looking at Lan Zhan in delight.

"You think this is funny?" Lan Qiren says heatedly, wheeling around and slamming the report down on his desk. "Do you know the effect this has on my health and safety figures?"

Oh. Oh, no, Lan Zhan feels like he's absolutely going to lose control of his laughter again. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard, and does not look at Wei Ying. He keeps it together as he says, "The incident occurred on the job. We followed all precautions and protocols. The investigation into it is, as yet, unresolved. There have been no findings that show we overlooked any risk."

His uncle is standing behind the desk now, leaning on it with both hands. "And what," he says, "does your brother think?"

It's not an unexpected question. Lan Qiren has been comparing him to Lan Huan from time immemorial. Lan Zhan does not hesitate before answering. "He is happy for me." The briefest of pauses. "And you, Uncle?"

He leaves it there, the words hanging heavy in the air. He does not generally acknowledge familial ties at work, however common it is in the cultivation world. His uncle is the one to have crossed that line.

Lan Qiren stares at him beadily. "Enough," he says, before looking away and flipping through the pages of the report. "Take all proper precautions," he continues. "I want no further incidents associated with this case. Wen Qing indicates that she will continue to monitor the...situation." His eyes flicker to Wei Ying's belly for a moment. "Follow her orders with regard to safety."

He closes the report and pulls himself up to his full height, hands clasped behind his back, expression cold. "That is all."

Lan Zhan bows neatly, Wei Ying bowing at the exact same time, to the exact same level, arms curved in front of them. Lan Qiren does not respond.

They make their way back to Lan Zhan's desk. Wei Ying collapses into Lan Zhan's chair immediately, his hands going up to tighten his ponytail. Lan Zhan perches on the corner of his own desk—he would not usually behave this casually at work, but his knees do, slightly, want to go out from underneath him.

Wei Ying shakes his head, his hands dropping to his belly. "Well," he says.

"Enceinte," Lan Zhan responds.

Wei Ying's giggles bubble out of him uncontrollably. "I don't know where it came from!"

Lan Zhan can't help but let his own laughter escape. "Wei Ying," he manages.

"Enceinte," Wei Ying gasps, bending over, his legs spread to give his belly room as he plants his head against the desk. "Lan Qiren's face, oh my god."

"Speaking of health and safety issues." Lan Zhan tries to get himself under control, but is unable to.

"Lan Zhan." Wei Ying jerks his head up on a sharp burst of laughter as he looks admiringly at Lan Zhan. "Oh my god."

They're drawing attention now, coworkers gazing over at them curiously. Lan Zhan takes a series of short, sharp breaths, getting himself under control.

"Well." Wei Ying is still giggling between words. "That went about as well as one could expect."

"Quite," Lan Zhan agrees. Despite his uncle's anger, Lan Zhan feels lighter, happier. He's never liked keeping things from his family. Now they all know.

"Okay." Wei Ying wipes his eyes where they have teared up with laughter. "Okay. I gotta get some food. This kid," he pats his belly, "wants a mantou." He'd been unable to eat this morning, due to tension, his mouth drawn and tight. Now he, too, looks lighter, happier. He pushes himself up from the chair and his step is as swift as usual, his gait as smooth.

Lan Zhan will allow the empty calories of the mantou to pass without comment, as a treat.

After telling Lan Qiren, Wei Ying seems to find revealing his pregnancy to coworkers fun. "Can you believe I had to file a report on this?" he declares to Mianmian after he tells her, turning to the side so she can admire the full view of his stomach. "Talk about a rough day at the office, huh?" He grins widely at her. "Would this fall under 'special projects' or 'other duties as assigned,' do you think?"

She eyes his stomach critically. "Five months along?" she says.

"Yes!" Wei Ying beams. "Good guess!"

She shrugs. "I was bigger by that point, but you're so thin to begin with." She looks down. "Your ankles aren't swollen at all yet," she says, sounding slightly bitter.

"I know." Wei Ying sounds proud.

He likes telling the non-cultivators the best. "Oof," he says to Lan Zhan, pressing his hand against his back as he walks with an exaggerated waddle into the breakroom. "I can't believe I have four more months to go before this baby comes."

Zhang Yong from accounting looks up from the coffee maker, his eyes drop to Wei Ying's belly, and he takes what seems to be several involuntary steps backwards, still clutching the coffee pot.

"Oh," Zhang Yong says nervously. "Oh, okay."

Wei Ying beams at him as he lowers himself into a chair.

Lan Zhan watches him wearily—he's perfectly able to sit down with ease. He just likes the attention.

"Did you get my expense report?" Wei Ying asks, while he rests his hand ostentatiously on the curve of his stomach.

"I—" Zhang Yong is staring. "Sure," he says. "Is that—are you really—" He jerks his gaze up, like he realizes he's a harassment suit waiting to happen. "Sorry, I—"

"I am!" Wei Ying says cheerfully. "You didn't hear? Five months along. Wen Qing says it's rare but it does happen."

"Huh." Zhang Yong's mouth is hanging open.

"Not to, like, anyone," Wei Ying says in a reassuring tone. "It was a curse. I'm sure you're not as fertile as I am."

Lan Zhan doesn't wince at "fertile," but only because he knows Wei Ying enjoys it when he does.

Zhang Yong takes another step backwards. "Okay." He glances around the breakroom desperately. "I, uh—I'm gonna—" He leaves, still clutching the coffee pot in one hand. He comes back a moment later. "This, uh, is supposed to stay here," he says, not looking at Wei Ying as he shoves the pot back into the coffee maker and then flees.

Wei Ying grins up at Lan Zhan. "I love doing that."

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow. Wei Ying is a menace.

The weekend after they tell Lan Zhan's uncle, they have Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli over for dinner. "A sort of sibling night!" Wei Ying says cheerfully. "You should invite Lan Huan."

Lan Zhan spends a moment trying to picture what that would look like and his tension spikes alarmingly. "Perhaps another time," he says.

Wei Ying looks disappointed for a moment. "Ah, well," he says. "You know how I feel about a good theme night. But you're right, another time."

They haven't seen Jiang Cheng since Wei Ying had told him about the baby, although Lan Zhan does know that Wei Ying communicates with his brother largely via text and largely by sending each other memes.

Jiang Yanli lives several provinces away but has traveled in for a work conference, her husband staying home with Wei Ying's three year old nephew. Wei Ying had told her about the baby over the phone—Wei Ying had wandered around the apartment as he had talked with her, his tone light and sweet in a way it almost never got around Jiang Cheng. He'd been nervous to make the call but he'd told her right away, and his tone had immediately shifted to the quiet, happy one. "I know," Lan Zhan had heard as Wei Ying passed through the living room on another lap around the apartment. "I remember, you were so sick. Me too. Me too. Oh, god, it's so embarrassing..."

Lan Zhan had continued reading on the couch and tried to give Wei Ying his privacy, but Wei Ying hadn't seemed to care about that. He'd perched on the arm of the couch next to Lan Zhan at one point, his hip pressed against Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Lan Zhan's good," he'd said to his sister. "He takes care of me." He'd grinned down at Lan Zhan. "Yeah. Yeah, he's—yeah." He'd paused for a moment. "We're okay," he'd then. "We figured it out." He'd stood up and drifted away from Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan had stared down at the sentence he'd read three times and still had no idea of its meaning. Have they figured it out? What have they figured out?

Now, the doorbell rings and Wei Ying is beaming as he goes to answer it. "A-jie!"

"Oh my god, look at you!" Jiang Yanli sounds delighted. Lan Zhan allows himself a glance over at Jiang Cheng, who had arrived early and is rolling his eyes behind Wei Ying's back but has a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks at his sister.

"Don't encourage him," Jiang Cheng says gruffly, taking a sip of his beer. "He's way too into himself right now."

"Oh, let him be," Jiang Yanli is saying, her face bright and happy as she takes in Wei Ying's new girth. "Can I?" she asks, her hands tentatively out.

"Oh god, of course," Wei Ying says, holding his hands out to his sides and pushing his belly forward.

"He loves that," Jiang Cheng says. "You've just made his day."

(Wei Ying does, in fact, love it. He loves the belly—the curve of it, the feel of it, the proof that it provides that this is real, and true, and happening. "I don't like transitions, Lan Zhan," he'd said, pulling Lan Zhan's hand over to rest on the curve of his stomach. "It felt so weird and, I don't know, uncertain? Uncertain. When all this baby was was morning sickness and a need to get laid. But now," he'd said, beaming down at his belly, interlacing their fingers together over his stomach. His t-shirt—they're getting too small again, even though he's sized up at least twice now—had ridden up a little and Lan Zhan's pinky had been pressed against the warm softness of Wei Ying's skin. "Now, it feels real." He'd looked up at Lan Zhan, a small, happy smile on his face. "It feels important.")

Lan Zhan watches now as Wei Ying's sister presses her hands against Wei Ying's belly, her smile soft as she looks up at him. "Oh no," she says, her grin getting mischievous. "You're making me want to have another one."

"Do it," Wei Ying declares.

"Oh my god," Jiang Cheng moans. "Will you let her get in? Can you even get past his belly?" he asks Jiang Yanli.

Wei Ying tilts his head to beam over his shoulder at his brother. "He's right," he says. "Come on, let's go sit down. Want a glass of wine? Drink a glass of wine for me, please," he begs. "I just want to watch. It's as close as I get nowadays."

Jiang Yanli slips her shoes off and lets Wei Ying grasp her hand and drag her in.

Dinner goes well. Jiang Yanli is the peacekeeper between Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng, but even their usual barbs seem tempered this evening by their sister's presence, almost rote. Like they're squabbling for the sake of her comforting admonishments.

Lan Zhan thinks, for a moment, that it must have been exhausting for Jiang Yanli growing up.

They move to the living room after dinner. Conversation turns to stories from their own childhood—stories about childhood debacles and the resulting punishments at the hand of Madam Yu that sound excessive, even when compared against Lan Zhan's own strict upbringing. Still, the siblings laugh uproariously at the tales, and Lan Zhan keeps his thoughts to himself.

"I've missed you." Jiang Yanli is on her second glass of wine, her feet curled up under her, gazing fondly at her brothers. "I've missed this."

Lan Zhan feels, all at once, decidedly like he does not belong here. It occurs to him that perhaps Wei Ying had intended this to be only the three of them; that only by virtue of them sharing a home was he invited. Wei Ying is kind, and open, and would not have made a case for Lan Zhan leaving. Perhaps Lan Zhan should have picked up on it on his own.

He feels flushed, and ridiculous, and he's shifting next to Wei Ying on the couch, about to get up and excuse himself, when Wei Ying gasps, his hand flying to his belly.

All three of them turn to him immediately. Lan Zhan is on his feet before he even really registers it. "Wei Ying," he says, sitting down next to him again, leaning forward. "What is it?"

"Lan Zhan." It comes out breathless, but Wei Ying's face doesn't look pained or flushed. "Lan Zhan, it...moved." He grabs Lan Zhan's hand and puts it against his belly. "It moved, the baby—it moved."

Jiang Yanli takes an excited breath. Even Jiang Cheng is leaning forward, looking both interested and dubious.

But Wei Ying is looking at Lan Zhan like he's the only person in the room. His eyes are bright, excited, and he's holding Lan Zhan's hands against the curve of his stomach, pressing down. "It's not—you have to concentrate," he says intently, excitedly. "It was almost—it was like a flutter? But sort of a rolling one? Like a bird doing a somersault?" He's biting his lip, his hands soft and warm over Lan Zhan's.

Jiang Yanli is looking over Wei Ying's shoulder with fond excitement, but Wei Ying doesn't even notice. The rest of the room seems to have fallen away as Lan Zhan looks at Wei Ying and waits. It's a handful of moments later when he feels it—a soft flutter under his palm, very much like that of a bird wing.

Wei Ying gasps agains when it happens, his hands tightening on Lan Zhan's. "Oh," he says, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my god, you felt it, right? You felt it? It's not just me? That's—a baby in there! That's our baby in there!" He lets out a shaky breath and uses the back of one hand to swipe at his eyes. "Oh fuck me," he says shakily. "I can't believe I'm crying. This is embarrassing." He's still holding one hand over Lan Zhan's, pressing it against his belly. "This is so dumb," he says, letting out a damp laugh. The tears are spilling over now and he's laughing even as he wipes them away, the tears falling faster than he can keep up with. "This is so dumb, why are pregnancy hormones like this?"

Jiang Yanli hooks her chin over his shoulder, pressing her face against his. "It's beautiful, Wei Ying. It's okay to cry."

Lan Zhan sets his jaw, because there is a zero percent chance he's going to allow himself to cry in front of Jiang Cheng. He doesn't move his hands away from Wei Ying's belly—he's not sure that he can. He feels as though he can feel Wei Ying's heart thumping, feel the blood flowing through his body, feel their baby's heartbeat against the palm of his hand. None of it is true, of course, but all of it makes him want nothing more than to surge up and press his lips against Wei Ying's and kiss him breathless.

Instead, he reaches up one shaky hand and brushes the tears out from under Wei Ying's eyes. "Wei Ying," he says, wondering at how steadily his voice comes out.

"Lan Zhan." Wei Ying topples forward into his arms in the next moment, tears mixed with laughter against Lan Zhan's shoulder. Jiang Yanli is laughing behind Wei Ying's shoulder, also wiping tears from her eyes, and even Jiang Cheng is laughing softly across the room, caught up in his siblings' ebullience.

Lan Zhan meets Jiang Yanli's eyes over Wei Ying's shoulder for a brief moment. The corners of her eyes soften as she meets his gaze, and she tilts her head, studying him for a second. He doesn't let himself look away, even as he feels himself flushing. She gives him a small smile, her eyes soft and knowing.

Wei Ying pulls his head up at that moment, mopping tears off of his face and giggling. He kisses Lan Zhan easily, then sits back, his hands on his belly, looking back and forth at his two siblings. "Some party," he says. "Sorry, I'm..." He waves his hands around, more tears toppling down his cheeks. "I'm a mess."

You're beautiful, Lan Zhan thinks.

At six months pregnant, Wei Ying's belly is slowly becoming unwieldy. He's carrying entirely in the front—from behind, you wouldn't even know he was pregnant. But when he turns—

"Oh wow, you really are all baby, huh?" Wen Qing says, coming up behind them just as they're getting ready to head out on a case.

Wei Ying makes a face as he turns around. "I know," he sighs. "I know, it's just—" He spreads his hands in a gesture that encompasses the not insubstantial stretch of his stomach. "Babies are supposed to be small, aren't they?" he demands. "You're a doctor; how do they take up so much room?"

Wen Qing shrugs one shoulder. "Do you really want to know?"

"No. My internal organs are nowhere near where they're supposed to be, are they?" Wei Ying says glumly. "The baby is shoving everything around."

Wen Qing opens her mouth, looking mischievous.

Wei Ying holds up his hands. "Please no details."

Wen Qing shrugs, grinning. "Your loss. You don't want to know where your spleen is right now?"

Lan Zhan wonders, not for the first time, if it's safe for Wei Ying to still be doing field work. He's relieved when Wen Qing brings it up now.

"How are you feeling?" Wen Qing continues. "Pain? Shortness of breath? Swollen feet? Forgetfulness?"

"No, no, a little, and how would I know?" Wei Ying answers cheerfully. "I never remember anything to begin with."

Wen Qing stares at him over her clipboard. "You still seem pretty okay on your feet," she says. "If your ankles start swelling to an abnormal degree, or you get short of breath regularly, you have to tell someone." She looks at Lan Zhan, pushing her glasses up on her head. "I'm assuming that someone will be you. And you need to tell me." She tilts her head at Wei Ying. "Because this one will probably forget to. We'll keep a close eye on you," she continues. "If things get rough, I'm pulling you from field work."

Wei Ying opens his mouth in protest and she shuts him up with a look. "It's a health and safety issue," she says firmly. "Your opinion doesn't count here."

Wei Ying sighs. "Let's go, Lan Zhan. A level five spiritual extraction will be more fun than this."

They're being sent to investigate a series of what seem to be spiritual nastiness—a resentful spirit that needs to be quelled. By the time they're called in on cases such as these, the initial investigation has already been completed and it's clear this is not a confused business owner who needs new glasses, or a better ventilation system.

They pull into a spot and get out of the car, Wei Ying still moving smoothly, though he does have to sort of pull himself up a little on the door frame. Lan Zhan can't help but wonder, again, how long is too long for field work.

"Okay," Wei Ying says cheerfully, absent-mindedly rubbing the small of his back. "So a level five means that we do a thorough assessment, all of that, but realistically, this sounds like my jam." He grins at Lan Zhan. "Resentful energy, bring it on, I got you." He tugs his flute out of his bag and spins it though his fingers.

"We'll communicate with it first," Lan Zhan says. "It may be something we can quell peacefully."

"I'm peaceful," Wei Ying says, striding towards the building. "I'm always peaceful, I am ready to make peace."

Lan Zhan is right next to him, matching his stride, so they hit the spot at the exact same moment. The world shifts around them, racing and sliding in an endless blur that still seems to go by in a single breath.

"Locational distortion," Wei Ying gasps when the world slides to a halt around them. "Fucking hell, I hate those. Where are we?" His hand is on his belly, and Lan Zhan finds his hand is wrapped around Wei Ying's arm.

Lan Zhan has his phone out, calling for urgent back-up before the words are out of Wei Ying's mouth. "It's the same building," Lan Zhan says, "where—" He looks down at Wei Ying's belly and up at his face as he fumbles his words. "Where the curse took place."

"Oh." Wei Ying looks up at the building—the locational distortion had taken them to the threshold. "Oh, fuck."

"Let's..." Lan Zhan tilts his head and they move several paces away. "We wait for back-up," he says carefully.

"Oh, yeah." Wei Ying is swift in his agreement. "We're not going in without a full team."

"Something has clearly brought us here," Lan Zhan says. "Deliberately. Perhaps we should—"

"It's our case," Wei Ying says firmly. "I'm not delicate. I'm fine. And if this is about me, then I'm going to need to be there to get it resolved." His jaw is set and he looks both curious and pissed off, which Lan Zhan finds is a devastating combination with regard to how badly he wants to kiss him. "I want to know what the fuck is going on."

Wen Qing has run every scan, every test, cast every talisman. She has assured Wei Ying and Lan Zhan that, despite the supernatural impregnation, every part of the baby is completely normal and there is no sign of arcane energy, resentful or otherwise.

Still. Lan Zhan worries.

The back-up team arrives just as Wei Ying is getting truly antsy. It's a set of second-level cultivators, swords drawn upon arrival, as well as a more conventional back-up enforcement. Amidst the solemn group of cultivators is—

"Wen Ning!" Wei Ying sounds delighted, and he makes his way over to the sweet-faced, pale young man with harsh black lines running down his throat. The cast of his eyes is unusual and slightly off-putting, but the smile he gives Wei Ying is pure joy.

He bows to Wei Ying and Wei Ying scoffs, pulling him up. "You know Wen Qing's brother, right, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying beams down at him. "The Ghost General!"

"Stop it," Wen Ning says, dropping his eyes and scuffing the ground with his foot, looking like he would be blushing if he were able. He pivots towards Lan Zhan and drops into a low bow immediately.

"Wen Ning," Lan Zhan says, bowing in return. Wen Ning seems sweet and simple and polite, but Lan Zhan has read the reports and has heard the stories—he knows how powerful he is.

"I have heard of the Ghost General, but this is our first meeting." He knows of him, due to him being well renowned in the cultivation world, but more so because it is Wei Ying who is credited for bringing Wen Ning back from the dead. He's read the details about Wen Ning's murder—he'd been a relatively low-level cultivator at the time—but his focus was more on the talismans Wei Ying had created and the unorthodox techniques he had used to bring him back. It was...formidable. It had happened before Lan Zhan had been assigned as Wei Ying's partner and it was part of what had made him both apprehensive and curious as to what this partnership would bring.

He could not, as it turns out, have even come close to predicting it.

Wen Ning is now staring down at Wei Ying's belly with an awed look on his face.

"You can touch!" Wei Ying says cheerfully. "I know, it's huge."

"It's beautiful," Wen Ning breathes, gazing up at Wei Ying with wide eyes. His hands are hovering over his belly, as though even with permission, he doesn't quite dare to touch. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Gender is a social construct," Wei Ying says immediately. "But also we're waiting to find out." He looks over at Lan Zhan with a soft smile.

Lan Zhan directs the back-up team to take the lead, keeping both him and Wei Ying in the middle. It's unusual, but he is certain that Wei Ying is the focus of what has drawn them here. If something wants to get at him, Lan Zhan will make sure it has to fight for it.

It's quiet inside and with a quick gesture, he sends units to investigate the perimeter. There is still a cluster of team members around the two of them, with Wen Ning taking point as they move slowly further into the building.

When it happens, it happens suddenly. There is a whirlwind of energy that snaps through the entire space, charged with a seething resentment that hits like a shot to the chest. The team springs into action, scattering in a protective formation. Wen Ning flips himself up and executes a driving kick into the clouded seat of energy situated in the far corner of the room. He explodes into it and lands neatly, arms out, crackling with his own energy.

Lan Zhan dives to the side, materializing his guqin and sending out lashes of powerful chords, which hit the pit of resentful energy like metal hitting a charged wire. He's aware of Wei Ying bracketing his attack, spinning to the other side of the room. The odd, discordant notes of his flute can be heard above the sound of the fray, as the back-up team fights against the energy that seems to be targeting each member individually.

Lan Zhan assesses the room in a glance, before focusing back at where Wen Ning is grappling with a formless energy unit. The thick ropes of black smoke that issue forth along with Wei Ying's notes from the flute are edging around it, and Lan Zhan takes a breath and backs up a step, trying to take a moment to attempt to communicate with the clearly unsettled spirit.

His message via the guqin gets a response that comes back like a shriek of blizzard wind, whipping across the room and sending the team spinning.

NEVER FORGIVE. NEVER REST. HE MURDERED ME. I WILL MURDER BACK.

It's not quite words, it's feelings, and it's currently focused on Wen Ning. The energy lifts him suddenly, slams him up and back against the wall. He hits with an enormous crack and collapses into a heap. His limbs are askew and his body is the sort of limp and undone that appears to be fatal.

"Fuck!" Wei Ying's eyes are narrow and furious, and he plays more forcefully, moving closer. His hair is whipping around, his expression focused and deadly.

Lan Zhan is on the other side of the room from him. He's too far away. Wei Ying is too close to the angry spirit. Lan Zhan barks at the team to reform the ranks, to subdue the spirit, and as they regroup and move in, a black tendril resolves itself from the swirling circles of energy from Wei Ying's flute, which he has not ceased playing. Lan Zhan notices that the new tendril has a solid, slick quality, not in keeping with the lightness of the other smokey tendrils, a moment before it flicks out, wrapping around Wei Ying's leg and dragging him forward.

Everything happens in the space of a moment. Wei Ying topples onto his back, the slick tendril whisking him forward into the heart of the swirling energy, even as Lan Zhan dives forward, hands reaching for Wei Ying. He lands inelegantly against the concrete floor, his hand closing over empty air where Wei Ying had been only a moment before.

Lan Zhan is on his feet in the next second, his sword drawn, ready to lunge into the heart of the energy pattern. He's thrust away by a force as he hits the edge of it, and thrown back. One of the other cultivators catches him, but he barely notices—he's pushed himself up and he's racing forward again immediately.

"Stop." It's a human voice, but it sounds distorted. Lan Zhan can't see anything through the dissipating smoke, and the seething, cloudy air whirling in the center of the energy form. His focus is narrowed, his sword held back and up, over his shoulder, ready to strike, imbued with all the energy he can manage—as soon as he can see his target. The sounds from around the room have fallen away—a part of his brain is aware of the rest of the team aligning around him, some distance back, in solid formation, but every other part of him is focused on the moment where he will bring utter devastation to the thing that has Wei Ying.

"Stay very still," the distorted voice continues. "You wouldn't want my hand to slip before it's time." There is a surge, similar to the way the air feels just before a lightning strike, and the smoke dissipates. Lan Zhan's ears pop as the air in the room resolves itself, revealing Wei Ying—awake, alert, alive, and looking furious—sprawled on the floor, held in place by Changming, a member of the back-up team. Changming is blank-faced, his eyes showing only pure white.

"Possessed," Wei Ying says flatly. The spirit that is housed in Changming's body has one arm wrapped around Wei Ying's throat. Wei Ying has blood trickling steadily down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead. "It's not Changming. Don't hurt him."

Lan Zhan processes the words but his full attention is on the knife that the spirit has clutched in Changming's hand, the tip hovering very close to Wei Ying's stomach.

Lan Zhan adjusts his grip on his sword.

The spirit laughs through Changming's mouth. "Ah, ah," it says mockingly. "Careful, now."

"You won't do it," Wei Ying says. His tone is light, but tightly furious at the same time. Lan Zhan can see a muscle twitching in his jaw, even as Wei Ying relaxes back against the body of Changming. "Why would you go through all this, have me get pregnant, only to end it now?"

The spirit laughs again, a choking, unhuman sound. "Oh," it says. "Oh, you're mistaken. How sweet, that you think I would create life, when all you people have done is destroy mine."

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Wei Ying says. He sounds bored, almost sleepy, but Lan Zhan can see how tensely he's holding himself. The blood trickling slowly down the side of his face is vivid against the paleness of his skin. "What business is this of yours?"

"You wouldn't know, would you?" The spirit's words turn fast and tight, bitten out. "It wouldn't matter to you. Your idiot henchman murdered me without ever once looking back." It jerks Changming's chin back to indicate Wen Ning's body.

"I honestly have no idea what he's talking about," Wei Ying says conversationally to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan feels like every part of him is narrowed down to singular fury. He can hold his sword ready to strike indefinitely. He's poised and, when the time comes, he will destroy this spirit without taking a single unnecessary breath.

"You set him upon me," the spirit grates out. "You called him to murder me and walked away and in reward, you get to create a child so powerful that the world will never look the same after its birth? I think not."

"I think not," Wei Ying repeats. "Who says I think not?"

Lan Zhan wants to tell him to be quiet. He wants to tell him to not incite things. More than that, though, the part of Lan Zhan not engaged with waiting for an opportunity to destroy this spirit permanently, urges him to trust that Wei Ying knows what he's doing. That in moments such as these, Wei Ying rarely babbles without a purpose.

"Your lack of a golden core," the spirit continues, Changming's arm tightening incrementally around Wei Ying's throat, "left space for Lan Zhan's seed."

Wei Ying winces. "Oh god, that's—please stop talking. That's such a fucking unpleasant way to put it."

"T'was not I who cast the spell that allowed this mutation to take place," the spirit continues.

"I don't know what to address first," Wei Ying says. "T'was or mutation."

"You would be wise to cease your babbling." The arm holding the knife is trembling, shifting.

Every part of Lan Zhan's body wants to surge forward. He holds himself steady.

"But it is I who will end it." Changming's body shifts behind Wei Ying, like the spirit is steadying itself for action. "It cannot be allowed into this world. I will put a stop to it."

Lan Zhan's vision goes red around the edges and his blood is pounding in his veins.

"I'd like," Wei Ying says softly, "to see you try."

In the next moment, several things happen at once: Wei Ying moves one arm to brace himself against the floor. The spirit raises the knife high and Lan Zhan lurches forward, just as Wei Ying wrenches himself away, rolling as Wen Ning lifts himself off the ground with astonishing speed and whirls into Changming's body. Changming's body falls to one side, the knife spinning out of his hand across the floor. Wei Ying swipes his hand through the blood on his face and sketches a talisman against the rough floor, imbuing it with energy, and with a swift sharp movement, sending it across the room in a burst of light. It slams with brutal force into the spirit struggling out of Changming's inert body.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says sharply and Lan Zhan drops his sword. He can see the spirit struggling to release itself from Wei Ying's trap and he materializes his guqin once again, focusing all of his energy and shooting one brutal chord after another, intricately detailed and meticulously focused, directly to the heart of the spirit. It breaks apart with a thunderous yowl that seems to split the room apart. There's an explosion of energy as it comes undone, sending most of the cultivators tumbling to the floor.

The silence in the room afterwards is deafening. Lan Zhan is at Wei Ying's side with no memory of how he got there. He's got his arms around him, his hand resting protectively over his stomach, his sleeve up against Wei Ying's forehead, staunching the blood. "Call in medical," he says shortly over his shoulder to the lead back-up. "Get your team on their feet, lock this place down, make sure there are no residual energy traps. Go. Medical first."

"I'm fine." Wei Ying is trying to get to his feet. Lan Zhan pushes him back down. "Honestly, Lan Zhan, it's a scratch."

"You fell," Lan Zhan says, still holding Wei Ying down. He notices, with some small part of his brain, that his hands are trembling. His heart is beating so high in his throat that he can't catch his breath.

"I caught myself," Wei Ying says softly. "I controlled it. The baby's fine." He rests his hand over Lan Zhan's. "I'll go in, I'll get checked out, but it's fine, it is. I promise."

"The knife," Lan Zhan says. His voice comes out steady. He's surprised. He feels like he's trembling from the inside out. "It was—"

"It's gone." Wei Ying's face is so pale as to be nearly transparent. "It's gone. He's gone. We're fine."

Wen Ning comes up and drops down to his haunches a respectful distance away from them. "I murdered him?" he asks anxiously. "I don't remember. I..." He chews on his thumbnail.

"It was early days," Wei Ying says in a reassuring voice. He's leaning against Lan Zhan now, Lan Zhan holding him steady even though he, himself, feels as though he could topple over at any moment. "You were only just back. He wasn't innocent, we were being hunted. I know you don't remember, you were only just—"

"You know who it was?" Lan Zhan says. "The spirit?" The sound of sirens echoes nearby, close now.

"I—" Wei Ying looks up at him, blinking rapidly. "I do, I—it was an accident. He didn't..." His eyes flutter and he slumps over, unconscious. His hands slip off his belly and Lan Zhan's heart catches in his throat.

It's moments only until the medical team arrives but Lan Zhan feels like a lifetime passes with the heavy weight of Wei Ying in his arms.

He gets pulled away and there is a moment where he comes very close to lashing out at the medic who pries his hands off of Wei Ying. He tamps it down but refuses to move more than a few feet away. The medics move swiftly and with certainty, checking Wei Ying out. They get him loaded onto a gurney. He's still unconscious; the blood still trickling down his face. Lan Zhan watches his chest move with his breathing.

"Shock," the medic by Lan Zhan says. Lan Zhan focuses on him. The medic is putting a blanket around his shoulders. "You're in shock. Let's take it easy, okay?"

"My partner." Lan Zhan pushes himself to his feet, nearly falls over, straightens himself as he starts to follow the gurney with Wei Ying out the door. "You have to bring him to Wen Qing. Have you contacted her?"

"We have." The medic puts his hand on Lan Zhan's arm, trying to get him to stay still. Lan Zhan shakes him off and keeps moving. "She's going to meet him at the hospital. Why don't we sit down for a moment? I think you might be—"

Lan Zhan doesn't stop moving forward. "I'm going with him."

"You can't—" The medic protests.

"I can," Lan Zhan cuts him off. He pauses to stare at him, stonily.

The medic narrows his eyes. "Well," he says. "You need to get checked out at the hospital yourself, anyway. Fine. Go."

Lan Zhan does.

"What the hell was that?" Wen Qing demands.

"Fucking Su She," Wei Ying explains succinctly. He's sitting on a hospital bed in the exam room, looking equal parts irritated and tired.

They're in the ER, closed in behind a curtain. Wei Ying's cut on his forehead has been cleaned and closed up—just a couple of butterfly bandages. He's been thoroughly checked out, including Wen Qing sending him for a sonogram just to be absolutely sure everything is fine. It is—the sonographer confirmed it. The fall didn't hurt the baby—other than the cut, nothing is wrong with Wei Ying, apart from a bit of shock and exhaustion, which had hit hard and caused him to pass out.

"That asshole," Wen Qing says. She looks over at Wen Ning, hovering anxiously near Wei Ying. "Of course he wouldn't just fucking die and be dead."

"I don't remember killing him," Wen Ning murmurs, again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Wei Ying says. "It's not your fault. You were protecting me. It was—ugh." He scrubs his hand over his face. He has dark circles under his eyes and he looks absolutely worn out.

Lan Zhan, standing next to the bed, can't stop watching him. He'd come up for the sonogram as well, in order to see that the baby was, actually, okay. Wen Qing had gone over everything with him and assured him Wei Ying was fine. All Lan Zhan wants is to get him out of here—take him home and just watch him for a long, long time.

"Tell me what happened," Wen Qing says. "I need it for the report." But she also looks personally invested and moves over to her brother, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"I know." Wei Ying looks up at Lan Zhan. "It's okay," he says, even though Lan Zhan hasn't said anything. He'd certainly been thinking it, however. "I want to do it. Let's just get through this so I never have to think about that asshole again."

Lan Zhan gives a brief nod. "Fine."

Wei Ying sighs. "You know the basics," he says. "But it was—okay, whatever caused this—" He gestures at his belly. "That wasn't Su She. I don't know how he got involved. He definitely was someone who always stuck his nose in things. I guess that continued after he died. I guess he figured that dragging us to the same spot where it happened would have some sort of, I don't know, dramatic tension?"

"It's a hot spot of spiritual energy," Wen Qing says impatiently. "You know that. You put that in your first report. Of course a resentful spirit would be drawn there."

"Whatever," Wei Ying says tiredly. "He was also a dramatic asshole. Two things can be true at the same time." He shakes his head. "Anyway, I recognized his voice almost right away. I mean, even though it was technically Changming's voice, Su She had a sort of blowhard way of talking that was so fucking irritating. It stuck with me." He shakes his head. "It's so stupid. He said something about this baby being, like, super powerful and that it couldn't be born—he called it a mutation which, like, sure, fine, okay, isn't that what evolution is? He said it like it was a bad thing, which pissed me right the fuck off."

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says.

"Right, right, focus, okay." Wei Ying takes a breath. "Su She blames me for his death, which I'm pretty okay with—it was that case Wen Ning and I were on together, remember, not that long after he came back?"

"With the guy," Wen Ning says softly. "He knocked you off of a fire escape. You hit the ground hard. He had his gun trained on you."

Wei Ying looks at him. "Right," he says. "It's coming back to you, huh? I'm sorry. It was rough."

"I still don't remember what I did." Wen Ning looks sad and Wen Qing's hand tightens against his shoulder.

"You saved my life," Wei Ying says flatly. "He would have killed me. There was security camera footage. He had his gun trained on me, unconscious in an alley. He was going to pull the trigger." He looks softly at Wen Ning. "You got to him first."

Wen Ning still looks anxious but he gives Wei Ying a small smile.

Lan Zhan, thinking about Wei Ying crumpled in an alley, exposed and in danger, gives Wen Ning a slow nod.

Wen Ning, if possible, turns even more colorless, the dark streaks on his neck standing out prominently.

"I genuinely think the baby was just an excuse." Wei Ying leans back against the raised back of the bed, closing his eyes for a moment. "He wanted revenge. He was saying all sort of nutty stuff about Lan Zhan's...involvement in the original curse, but he said it much grosser than that." He opens his eyes, looking faintly sick. "He was always a nasty motherfucker."

"I'll be sure to include that in the report," Wen Qing says. "Also your baby is normal. I have run every test I know, and a couple I invented just for you. It's just a baby. If it has anything special, it's not because it's, like, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's fucking genetic. You two are pretty good at what you do." She shrugs. "The baby has a good gene pool."

Wei Ying manages a grin. "Correct." He looks up at Lan Zhan. "A lucky kid."

Lan Zhan's heart beats hard enough that his knees feel weak. He takes a breath and sits down on the edge of the bed next to Wei Ying. Wei Ying doesn't seem to think that's odd—he just draws Lan Zhan's hand into his own.

"Anyway. Su She was an idiot who apparently thought he had killed Wen Ning—and hey, maybe that move would have killed a regular, run of-the-mill cultivator, but your brother here has been through some shit—a move like that wouldn't even slow him down."

"I was worried," Wen Ning says shyly, "about the knife, being so close to you, and the baby. I wasn't sure what to do. I decided to lie there and think about it until I was sure."

"Good call," Wei Ying says approvingly. "So once he thought it through, Wen Ning drop-kicked poor Changming's body so hard it practically knocked Su She out of it. Changming is okay, right?" he asks Lan Zhan. "They brought him in?"

"He's fine," Lan Zhan confirms. "Some small contusions, a concussion. They've already released him."

"Good," Wei Ying says. "And I cast the talisman that knocked him the rest of the way out of Changming's body and Lan Zhan used chord assassination to break his spirit into particles, goodbye, Su She, don't let the door hit you on your spiritual ass on your way out." He sighs. "Can we go home now? I want to go home. I'm beat."

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, getting up immediately.

"How did you know," Wen Qing asks, "what my brother was going to do?"

"Oh," Wei Ying says. "I know Wen Ning." He drops Wen Ning a wink, and Wen Ning ducks his head, grinning down at the floor. "I knew he wasn't dead. I knew he'd come to my rescue."

"But how did you know when?" Wen Qing persists.

"He tapped," Wei Ying says. "He tapped on the floor. Like a poltergeist." He grins at Wen Ning. "My favorite level two spiritual disturbance."

"That's ridiculous," Wen Qing says fondly, looking at her brother.

"Sometimes simple works." Wei Ying swings his feet off the side of the bed. Lan Zhan gets an arm around him as he gets to his feet. "Fuck," he mutters. Then, "I'm just sore, it's fine." He has his hand on the small of his back as he stands and Lan Zhan can't stop himself from looking at Wen Qing.

"He's fine," she says. "He's going to be sore for a while, and there's some bruising, but he's honestly okay." She looks steadily at Lan Zhan. "I promise. Now get out of here." She directs that last part at both of them. "I'll take care of the discharge papers." She glances up at Wei Ying. "Let's try to cut back on the excessive use of resentful energy, huh?" Wen Qing suggests. "Just for a little bit."

Wei Ying rolls his eyes.

In the car on the way home, Wei Ying keeps his head tilted back against the seat, his eyes closed. He looks drawn. Exhausted. Lan Zhan's heart is still beating too hard, even now—he can't imagine what Wei Ying is feeling.

"What he said," Wei Ying says suddenly, quietly. "What he said about my golden core." He takes a breath in through his nose, lets it out on a humorless chuckle. "Or lack thereof."

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, and stops. You don't have to, he means. You don't owe me this

"I know, just listen," Wei Ying says. His eyes are still closed. "He knew. I don't know, back when it all went down, he found out." He opens his eyes, staring vacantly out the windshield. "I don't know what that has to do with this," he says, looking down. He has one hand curved protectively over his belly—he's had it that way since the hospital. "What he said about my golden core being gone leaving space for...this." He stares down at his stomach. "If I had known back then, it would have been an okay trade-off." He sounds like he's talking to himself.

Lan Zhan wants to reach out, put his hand on Wei Ying's knee. Wants to pull over so he can undo his seatbelt and lean over and hold Wei Ying. He wants—

"Anyway," Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan wrenches his eyes back to the road. "It doesn't matter. I'd do it again. I don't regret it. I don't mind it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lan Zhan sees Wei Ying turn towards him. "Lan Zhan," he says slowly. "You'd do anything for your brother, right?"

There is a sinking feeling in Lan Zhan's chest as he processes what Wei Ying is saying.

"Yes," he says, finally. He would. He thinks he would. He—

"So you understand," Wei Ying says carefully, "how if Lan Huan had—" He stops. Takes a breath. "How if your brother needed—how if he needed, but would never ask, and you knew you could. You knew you could, and you knew that doing it wouldn't hurt you the way it was hurting him, you would—" He's staring at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan can almost feel it against his skin. "You would —"

Lan Zhan can't be anything less than honest. Not right now. "I would," he says. He keeps his tone steady. It's simple, because it's true. "I would."

Wei Ying relaxes back against the seat, his hand still resting over the curve of his stomach. "Yeah," he says, turning to look out the window. "I know. Me too."

When they get back to the apartment, Wei Ying drags himself through the living room, shedding items of clothing as he goes. "I need to shower." He gives a jaw-cracking yawn. "I feel gross. I feel like I'm covered in the smell of—" He waves his hand around as he heads into the bathroom.

Lan Zhan has a nearly overwhelming urge to follow him. To make sure he's okay. He's suddenly worried about every mundane thing that could go wrong. A poorly placed step into the bathtub. A patch of water on the floor. Wei Ying's forehead wound. He can't, suddenly, stop himself. "Wei Ying," he says, knocking.

"Come in." Wei Yiing's tired voice floats through the door.

When Lan Zhan enters, he hears the shower running. He moves closer, pitching his voice so Wei Ying can hear. "The wound on your forehead."

"I'm being careful." Wei Ying sounds exhausted. "I'm keeping it out of the water."

Lan Zhan is quiet for a second. "Can I help?"

There's a long moment of silence before Wei Ying says, "I have, like, so much dirt. Or something. In my hair."

"I can help," Lan Zhan says.

"Okay." Wei Ying sighs a little bit.

Lan Zhan strips down swiftly. "Can I—" he says, his hand on the shower curtain.

"Yeah."

Wei Ying is under the water, facing the stream, his head tilted carefully back. His eyes are closed and in the swirling steam of the shower, he looks luminescent. The water runs over the stretch of his stomach. Lan Zhan has to take a breath before he can move. Wei Ying is bruised—there's an angry-looking mark high up on the back of one shoulder, a slice of color across his hip that looks like it's only going to get darker. Lan Zhan wants to run his fingers over them, wants to run his mouth over them, wants to assure himself that Wei YIng is in one piece.

Instead, he turns Wei Ying around carefully. "Let me," he says.

"Mm-hmm." Wei Ying keeps his eyes shut, his head tilted back. Lan Zhan reaches for the detachable shower head. Wei Ying's belly brushes against him as he does it, but he maintains focus. He washes Wei Ying's hair for him, gently working the debris out of it. The cherry scent of Wei Ying's shampoo fills the air around them. He rinses Wei Ying's hair carefully, using one hand to direct the water away from the injury. Wei Ying rests his hands on Lan Zhan's hips as he keeps his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his face slack.

When Lan Zhan is finished, he says, softly, "There."

Wei Ying doesn't move for a few moments, his hands still resting on Lan Zhan's hips. Then he shakes himself a little. "Thanks," he says. "I've got it from here."

Lan Zhan nods and steps out of the shower. He dries himself efficiently and wraps his towel around his waist. He goes to Wei Ying's room and gets clothes for him—soft shorts that he's bought to fit his new waistline, a well-worn t-shirt, too big to begin with and stretched out now by Wei Ying's belly, and a hoodie. He brings them with him to his own room—quiet, neat, solitary—and he pulls on sweatpants, a t-shirt, before he heads back to the bathroom.

Another quiet knock. Wei Ying opens the bathroom door, wrapped haphazardly in a towel, which is slipping down under his belly. His hair is wet and loose, tangled down his back. He looks like he's trembling with exhaustion.

"Come with me?" Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying follows him without argument.

Back in his room, Lan Zhan hands him the clothes and Wei Ying nods and slowly puts them on while Lan Zhan pushes the bedcovers back.

"Sit, please," he says when Wei Ying is in his sleeping clothes, looking tired and vulnerable as he shivers in the middle of Lan Zhan's room.

Wei Ying nods and climbs in, sitting down in the middle, duvet pooled around him.

Lan Zhan makes his way to sit cross-legged behind Wei Ying. He combs out his hair, using care, undoing each tangle without tugging at Wei Ying's scalp. Wei Ying is quiet in front of him, allowing it. When Wei Ying's hair is smooth, Lan Zhan works it into a neat braid, low and flat. It's an unusual style for him, but the easiest way to keep it smooth and untangled, so Wei Ying can sleep.

"That feels nice," Wei Ying says softly. The braid tucked over his shoulder makes him look very young. He shivers again.

"Lie down." Lan Zhan sits back as Wei Ying lowers himself down. He's moved easily throughout the pregnancy—it's never slowed him down or hampered his movements much. Now, he shifts with aching caution, lying down in increments, easing his belly down, his shoulders, his head. He's curled up on his side, facing the middle, his head on the pillow.

Lan Zhan lies down next to him, facing him. He feels cold as well, all of a sudden. He draws up the duvet over both of them. Wei Ying shifts under the blankets, tucking his knees up under his belly. His hand is under his cheek. It's still daylight out and that feels wrong. It feels as though it should be night, that it should be days later, that what happened today, with Wei Ying in such peril, should have taken up far more time than the matter of minutes it actually did.

Lying there with the late afternoon sunlight edging in around his blinds, Lan Zhan feels something unspooling inside his stomach, the fear and the worry and the desperation he's been tamping down since they first entered the building site slipping out of his control. Perhaps amped up by the realization of what Wei Ying had done for Jiang Cheng. His skin feels too tight against his bones and he has to work to control his breathing. Wei Ying is looking at him, the dark circles etched under his eyes even deeper now.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, his voice soft. "I—"

Everything inside of Lan Zhan tips over, messy and unhinged. He hears a small sound come out of his throat, what might be called something like a sob, and then he's leaning in and kissing Wei Ying. It's not quiet, or soft, or anywhere near friendly. He rarely initiates a kiss between them; he doesn't allow himself that. He's not allowing it now—he can't control it. He's kissing him and he's moved closer, Wei Ying's belly pressing against his own. Lan Zhan can't stop his hands from roaming over Wei Ying's face, making sure of him—the bones under his skin, the softness of his cheeks, the solid feel of his belly.

Wei Ying makes a small gasping noise, and then he's kissing Lan Zhan back. "It's okay," he's saying in between kisses. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm okay, I'm—we're—"

Lan Zhan wrenches himself back. He can't bring himself to move fully away, but he makes himself stop kissing Wei Ying. He has his hand wrapped around the back of Wei Ying's neck, their heads close. "I'm sorry," he says. "I know you're exhausted."

"It's okay." Wei Ying reaches up and runs his thumb under Lan Zhan's eye.

Lan Zhan only now realises his eyes are leaking tears. He doesn't care.

"It's okay," Wei Ying says again. "The baby's okay."

"You," Lan Zhan says. It feels like it's wrenched out of him. He feels reckless with having said it, exposed, lit up inside. Wei Ying has to see. He has to know. "Wei Ying."

"I'm okay. Hey." Wei Ying's hand is soft and warm against Lan Zhan's cheek. "It's all okay." He's looking at Lan Zhan, his eyes soft and warm. "We're all okay."

There's a moment where Lan Zhan rolls the words over in his head, lines them up, feels them on his tongue. Then Wei Ying lets out a small, startled sound, at the same time as Lan Zhan feels a movement against his stomach. "Oh," Wei Ying says, sounding soft and impossibly vulnerable. "Oh, you felt that, right? It was right there, you had to have..."

Lan Zhan had. It was a series of tiny jolts. They pull away from each other to look down, Wei Ying pressing his hand against the side of his stomach. "So many kicks in a row," he says. "The kid is wide awake in there. Come on, feel it." Lan Zhan presses his hand next to Wei Ying's. It's moments later that they feel the slow slide that goes from one side of Wei Ying's belly to the other, feeling like a ripple under Lan Zhan's hand. "Oh," Wei Ying says. "Oh, that's so fucking weird to feel from the inside out." He's got a sleepy smile on his face. "Rolling over. You felt it."

"I did," says Lan Zhan. He's smiling too, he can't help it, feeling their child shift and settle under their hands. Wei Ying is safe in his bed, the day dimming around them. Later, Lan Zhan will get up, make them something to eat. For now, Wei Ying's eyes are blinking slowly, closing bit by bit, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks—cheeks that are less pale now, but the shadows under his eyes no less dark.

Lan Zhan keeps his hand on Wei Ying's belly, even as Wei Ying's head gets heavier against the pillow, even as he struggles to keep his own eyes open. He makes sure Wei Ying is well asleep before allowing himself to follow.

"Shit's getting weird," Wei Ying declares in the seven month. "Third trimester is really fucking weird, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan is fascinated by the third trimester. Wei Ying is carrying, still, entirely in the front, but that means that his belly seems to come into the room well before he does. He's really big now—not yet unwieldy, but he likes demanding to be helped up from couches, chairs, wherever he has collapsed. He gets tired easier now, different than he had been in the earlier months, when Lan Zhan would find him sleeping soundly on various surfaces around the house at the oddest times—curled up fully clothed on the bed at 10AM on a Saturday, or nodding off with his head propped up on his hand at Lan Zhan's desk as they worked on paperwork.

Now, he's just a little bit slower, needs more downtime. It's an odd change—he's not more sedate, but he can't maintain his usual energy level. He's ready for bed before Lan Zhan is most nights, drowsing on the couch, insisting that he's still watching when Lan Zhan quietly turns off the television.

"I'm awake," he mumbles tonight, his eyes half-open, lifting up his hands as Lan Zhan gets up, waiting to be hauled up off the couch. Lan Zhan agreeably takes his hands and acts as an anchor as Wei Ying pulls himself up. "I was watching the show," he insists through a yawn. His hair is pushed up messily on one side where he'd had his head pressed against the couch pillow. His cheeks are flushed, and he is beautiful.

Lan Zhan had closed down the house for the night, shutting off most of the lights, checking the door, putting away the dinner dishes, all while Wei Ying slept on the couch, the TV a quiet background noise.

Wei Ying rests his cheek on Lan Zhan's shoulder, stumbling along beside him. "It's too early for bed," he says sleepily. "It's not even your bedtime."

"You're tired." Lan Zhan can smell Wei Ying's hair, feel his belly brush against him with every step. "It's okay to be tired. Your body is doing a lot of work." The baby is the size of an eggplant now. Wei Ying has informed him of this several times.

("I do not understand," Lan Zhan had said, "what is helpful about comparing the size of our child to that of produce."

"It's not helpful, it's fun." Wei Ying had shrugged. "I don't know why, but it really is.")

Wei Ying yawns, still hanging onto Lan Zhan's arm as they get to his bedroom. "Tuck me in," he demands, tilting his head to look up at Lan Zhan.

"You haven't even brushed your teeth yet," Lan Zhan says, but deposits Wei Ying on the bed agreeably and turns on the bedside lamp.

"I will." Wei Ying's eyes look bright now, more awake, and he's shifting on the bed, gazing up at Lan Zhan. "Hey," he says then, reaching up and tugging Lan Zhan to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. "Hey, c'mere, for just a second."

"I am here." Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying grins, pushing himself up on his elbow.

"Yeah, but, like, come here." He pushes one hand into Lan Zhan's hair and brings him close, kissing him hot and wet and with extremely clear intent.

Lan Zhan is startled. Wei Ying's sex drive has diminished greatly over the last few months, as his body has changed and his various pains have grown. Since the attack from Su She and Lan Zhan's regrettable emotional upheaval thereafter, Lan Zhan has been careful to keep his touches to a minimum, unless initiated by Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan is careful with his touches. Wei Ying is not. Despite his exhaustion, his aches and pains, his growing unwieldiness, his tactile manner has only increased. He wants Lan Zhan to feel every twist and turn of their child inside him; he's constantly pulling Lan Zhan's hand to his belly. He falls asleep on the couch nightly, his head against Lan Zhan's shoulder with a pillow tucked behind his back, holding him upright in an effort to relieve his backaches; or with his feet—constantly freezing, no matter how many layers of socks he's wearing—pressed under Lan Zhan's thigh. He brushes by Lan Zhan in the kitchen, he drapes himself over Lan Zhan's shoulder at work.

It's been a while since this sort of intent has been behind it and Lan Zhan's body reacts to it embarrassingly quickly. It's only one kiss—a kiss with Wei Ying's lips soft against his own, his tongue pressing in, Wei Ying moaning just once against his lips as they sink against each other. One kiss and Lan Zhan is hard so quickly his head spins with it.

Wei Ying pulls back the smallest amount. His breath is coming fast and he's grinning at Lan Zhan in the golden light of the bedside lamp. "I know that I'm not the sexiest person on the planet right now," he says, drawing one hand down over his belly. "But I'm just really..." he pauses, wriggling closer to Lan Zhan, "really fucking turned on right now." He takes a breath, kissing Lan Zhan again and dragging his hand down. He is hard, as well, his cock rigid under Lan Zhan's hand. Lan Zhan can feel it jump, even through the fabric of Wei Ying's pants.

"Not sleepy?" Lan Zhan asks, even as he tightens his grip around Wei Ying's cock.

Wei Ying gasps, rocking his hips up as much as he is able. "Not so much, no." He presses forward, kissing Lan Zhan again and all Lan Zhan has to do is let go of the tight control he holds himself under, and then he's pressing Wei Ying back against the bed and sliding his tongue into his mouth.

He's careful, shifting his weight to one side, so he's not pressed up against Wei Ying's belly. He can't stop his hands from roaming over it—for all that Wei Ying brings his hand to rest against it nearly daily, he doesn't get the free rein he ardently desires. He pushes Wei Ying's shirt up and off, even as Wei Ying wiggles himself out of his pajama pants. He ducks his head, kissing down Wei Ying's jaw, feeling his groans through his skin. He uses the momentum to shift further down. He knows, from Wei Ying's complaints, that his nipples are extremely sensitive now, hardening even from just brushing up against his shirt.

He means to skirt around them. He intends to skirt around them. In the end, he can't help letting his tongue slide over the tight arch of a nipple.

The stuttered moan Wei Ying lets out makes him want to go back to it. Makes him want to bite.

Instead, he just moves to lick the other one lightly while he slides his thigh in between Wei Ying's legs. Wei Ying's hands clench against the bed, his breath escaping him in a long moan. His cock is leaking against Lan Zhan's thigh and he loves it. He rocks up against him, just to feel him moan again.

"Fuck," Wei Ying is chanting. "Fuck, fuck."

Lan Zhan takes the opportunity to move further down. The curve of Wei Ying's belly feels good under his hands, as he strokes down the sides and lets his mouth trace over the soft skin of it. There are silvery stretch marks along it now—he's glimpsed them before, when Wei Ying's shirt has slipped up, but now he gets to taste them. Wei Ying lets out a stuttered breath, his hands clenching over Lan Zhan's shoulders as his mouth moves. "That's—ah, ah, fuck." He laughs, high-pitched and breathless. "I'm huge, I know, you shouldn't—you can't—"

"You're beautiful." It's a fraction of what he's feeling right now but it's the only thing he can allow himself to say. He traces his fingers over the curve of his stomach, lets his mouth follow in their wake. When he licks the lower part of Wei Ying's belly, running his tongue along it, he feels Wei Ying's cock jump.

"I need—" Wei Ying gulps in a breath. "Can you—" He's pushing himself up, making Lan Zhan sit back. "Fuck, kiss me. Kiss me."

Lan Zhan does. Kissing Wei Ying sends waves of heat through his body. Wei Ying is making small, desperate sounds against his mouth as he kisses him, his hands in Lan Zhan's hair, against his face, roaming down his shoulders and back, trying to drag him closer. Lan Zhan wants to crawl up his body, wants to hold him down and kiss him until they're both lost in it. He's shaking with how badly he wants it.

Wei Ying pulls his mouth away. His face is flushed, the color high in his cheeks, his mouth wet and red. "Please," he says, twisting around. He's moving underneath Lan Zhan, clambering to his knees, facing the headboard. "God, please, Lan Zhan, will you fuck me? I need you to—I just want to feel you—"

Lan Zhan's entire body feels lit up. He's so hard he feels like he's thrumming with it. He wants Wei Ying. He's spent so many months swallowing his most desperate thoughts and feelings and maybe his body has reached a tipping point, because he finds the words spilling out, even as he works Wei Ying open with slick fingers. "You're hotter inside, than you were before." He presses the words against the skin of Wei Ying's shoulder, as Wei Ying pants underneath him. "What will that feel like, when I'm inside you?" Wei Ying shudders, his head dropping down between his shoulders as he gulps for breath. Lan Zhan twists his fingers inside him, pausing for just a moment before adding a third. "I'm so hard for you, Wei Ying," he whispers, low and bold.

"I want it." Wei Ying's voice is trembling and Lan Zhan feels a shot of heat through his whole body, thrilling at the thought of Wei Ying being taken apart by only his fingers. "I want it, fuck, I want it." He sucks in a breath, pushing back against Lan Zhan's fingers as he braces himself against the bed. "Please—"

Lan Zhan gives him what he asks for. He pulls his fingers out, and pushes his cock in, and oh god, he's so hard and it's been so long and he was telling the truth that Wei Ying is hotter inside now, feels tight and slick around Lan Zhan as he slides in deep.

"Oh," Wei Ying is panting out, his fingers scrabbling against the headboard. "Oh, oh, fucking hell, yes, that, I need you, I—"

The words resonate in Lan Zhan's brain as he fucks Wei Ying. I need you is the rhythm his thrusts take, his fingers pressed against Wei Ying's hips—softer now, more lush, the usual jut of his hip bones lost in the soft roundness that sets Lan Zhan's heart beating harder.

"More." Wei Ying's hands drop from the headboard to the bed, clenching against the pillows, shoving them aside. "Harder, I want it—harder." He's driving back against Lan Zhan now, meeting him thrust for thrust, his head down, his breath coming in frantic gasps.

Lan Zhan is close—suddenly and shockingly, faster than he'd anticipated. His thrusts turn uneven and he bites his lip, hard, and reaches around to take Wei Ying in hand.

"Oh fuck, yeah, fucking hell, do it—" The words spill out from Wei Ying, dirty and beautiful. His cock thrusts into the circle of Lan Zhan's fingers, damp and hard, so hard, so perfectly hard.

Lan Zhan is going to come. He's overwhelmed by it, holding on by a thread, not wanting this to be over, but everything curling up inside him, his balls tight, his cock so hard he feels like he could die from it. He thrusts into Wei Ying deeply, somehow holding on. Wei Ying is clenched tightly around him, still muttering desperate words against the pillows, his head dropped down.

Lan Zhan thrusts in one more time, deep, and he's coming, holding himself inside Wei Ying. He shakes through it, trembling hard and he's the one now who can't stop talking, hearing disjointed words come out as he spills inside Wei Ying.

Wei Ying gasps, and gasps, grinding back against him, his mouth open against the bed. His cock jerks and he comes over Lan Zhan's fist, hot against his skin. Lan Zhan feels wrenched open. He can't bring himself to pull out of Wei Ying. He can't make himself release Wei Ying's hip. He's holding Wei Ying there, pulled back half into Lan Zhan's lap, as Lan Zhan goes soft inside him.

When he slips out, he makes a sound that is almost a whimper, but Wei Ying doesn't laugh, or tease. He just sighs, and Lan Zhan moves, then, easing Wei Ying down to the bed onto his side. Things are extremely messy in between them but he can't bring himself to care at the very moment. He slides behind Wei Ying, allowing himself to put his hand over his side, resting it against his belly.

Wei Ying is still catching his breath, his face pressed against the pillow, small shudders still running through his body. "Fuck," he says, his voice coming out wrecked. "That was..." He stops, swallows, then laughs a little. "That was exactly what I needed."

"Mn." Lan Zhan wants to press a kiss against his shoulder. He wants to trace his fingers over the sprinkle of freckles there. "Not too much?"

"Hhhhngh." The sound Wei Ying breathes out is evocative, capturing the emotion Lan Zhan is fairly certain he's trying to convey. "God. No. You—" Wei Ying's hand scrambles backwards, latching onto Lan Zhan's hip and tugging him even closer, heedless of how wet and, now, unpleasantly sticky, things are between them. "You..." Wei Ying murmurs again.

Lan Zhan knows he should rouse Wei Ying. That they both need to clean up. That Wei Ying still needs to brush his teeth. That he'll want to smooth on the cream that is supposed to minimize the stretch marks that Lan Zhan finds himself so drawn to but Wei Ying dislikes, frowning at them in the mirror.

He knows all of this.

He lets Wei Ying sink into sleep beside him. He stays close and, after a moment, does allow himself to press his lips against Wei Ying's shoulder. Wei Ying murmurs in his sleep and shifts against Lan Zhan, pressing his face against the pillow.

Lan Zhan takes a breath, and another. He curls around Wei Ying and he does not let go.

Wei Wuxian has his flute out and is spinning it between his fingers. They're in the office, catching up on paperwork. Or, Lan Zhan is catching up on paperwork. Wei Ying had sat at his own desk for approximately seven minutes before making his way over to Lan Zhan's with an armful of paper. He'd ostensibly been going through it and organizing it, but mostly he's been regaling Lan Zhan with tales of past cases.

Lan Zhan doesn't mind. He's good at paperwork, at case files, at spreadsheets and detailed forms. Wei Ying's stories make it go by faster. He's also lugged over the right pile of paperwork from his own desk, so when Lan Zhan murmurs, "The Fenfang report," Wei Ying tucks the flute away and thumbs through his messy array of forms and hands it to him with a flourish.

Wei Ying tells the story, gleefully, of how the rogue cultivator had nearly leveled three city blocks—"And honestly, Lan Zhan, calling him a cultivator," Wei Ying is on a roll, Lan Zhan smiling a little down at his paperwork as he watches him out of the corner of his eye, "is really generous. That talisman he cast was a low-rent knock off of one of mine and if you're going to fuck with a high-intensity spirit array, you should at least check your fucking math before you cast it."

"High-intensity spirit array," Lan Zhan murmurs, making the notation in the appropriate field on the form. He hadn't quite remembered what it was that the cultivator ("cultivator") in question had cast.

"Right," Wei Ying says, like Lan Zhan had made his point for him. "Also—oh, fuck." He hisses in a breath, his hands going to his belly.

Lan Zhan's gaze jerks up.

"A kick," Wei Ying says. "A really obnoxious kick." He directs that second part at his belly. "The kid is moving around like crazy. Oh, c'mere, c'mere."

Lan Zhan slides his desk chair around to the side of his desk. Wei Ying pulls his hands onto his stomach. "Feel it?" he says. "Oh, oh."

Lan Zhan does. There's a telltale slide of some body part—a foot? A butt? Difficult to tell.—that is slowly rippling from one side of Wei Ying's belly to the other. He can feel it move against Wei Ying's belly, moving his hands along with it, as Wei Ying winces with delight.

"Move while you can, kid," Wei Ying says breathlessly. "You're gonna run out of space pretty soon." He giggles and Lan Zhan smiles up at him, his hands still on his belly.

"This is how you behave at work?"

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Ying crows with delight, attempting to throw himself up out of his chair at his brother. He fails, sitting back heavily instead. "Help me up," he demands.

"You're ridiculous." Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes as he reaches down, grasping both of Wei Ying's hands firmly and hauling him carefully to his feet. "Look at you." He sounds embarrassed by the size of Wei Ying's stomach, but he can't seem to stop looking at it.

"I know!" Wei Ying beams at him. "You want to touch it?"

"No!" Jiang Cheng huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, but you do," Wei Ying says, dragging Jiang Cheng's hands forward.

When they're pressed against Wei Ying's belly—over his stretched out t-shirt, which Wei Ying has layered with a hoodie that he strips on and off throughout the day as he careens between too hot and too cold—when Jiang Cheng has his hands over the broad expanse of Wei Ying's stomach, he grins, for just a moment.

Lan Zhan catches it. Wei Ying does too. Jiang Cheng's face looks softer, more open, in a way that Lan Zhan has rarely seen. Wei Ying's smile gets wider.

"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says as Wei Ying opens his mouth.

"What?" Wei Ying says innocently. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were, and I want you to shut the fuck up." Jiang Cheng pulls his hands away. "Sit down before you fall down. How are you even upright right now? How swollen are your ankles?"

"Who knows?" Wei Ying says cheerfully. "I haven't seen them in months." He lowers himself back down with a sigh and makes a show of trying to peer over his belly. "Remember when jiejie was pregnant with A-Ling? Hers were huge. Are mine that bad? Lan Zhan," he demands. "Look at my ankles and tell me how grotesque they are." He holds out his feet which are, of course, covered by the requisite uniform boots.

"Not grotesque. However, you did," Lan Zhan says, "have to loosen the laces." They're loose at the top, big sloppy bows that barely hold them shut. His ankles are swollen—Lan Zhan had made him report it to Wen Qing—but not overly so. Just another part of his changing body that Lan Zhan finds absolutely fascinating.

"I did." Wei Ying beams at Lan Zhan, wiggling his foot in his direction. "They're huge."

"You're fine." Lan Zhan looks at him.

Wei Ying smiles softly back.

Jiang Cheng makes a strangled sound in his throat. "Are you two always like this?" he demands.

Wei Ying shoots him a startled look. "Like what?"

Jiang Cheng stares at him, then just shakes his head, rocking back on his heels. "Are we going to lunch or what?"

"Oh god, food." Wei Ying nods several times in a row and starts to push himself up. Jiang Cheng sighs and reaches out to help him up again. "Yes, c'mon, let's go, there's this place around the corner that makes these dumplings that are absolutely out of this world, honestly. And scallion pancakes that are to die for."

"Watching your salt intake?" Wen Qing's voice is imperious as she comes up behind Wei Ying, dropping a file onto Lan Zhan's desk with a bang.

"Fuck!" Wei Ying jumps, startled. He rests one hand on Lan Zhan's desk as he clasps the other one to his chest. "You're gonna make me pee myself, fuck."

Wen Qing raises one eyebrow, then looks down at Lan Zhan. "That case from last week," she says, nodding at the file. "No findings on my end."

Lan Zhan nods his thanks, as she turns her attention back to Wei Ying. "We talked about this. Less salt. Less spice. You're eating healthy."

"I am!" Wei Ying says insistently, but he's also shifting back and forth where he stands. "I am, I swear, but I'm also genuinely going to pee myself, so." He dashes off, for certain definitions of "dash," which for Wei Ying, right now, is a swift waddle.

"Hey, Jiang Cheng," Wen Qing says. "How's the wrist doing?"

Jiang Cheng gives a weird, choked laugh. "You remembered," he says, lifting his hand and sort of waggling at her. "I mean, ha ha, it's fine, I don't. Uh."

She's giving him a quizzical look. "I set it for you," she says carefully. "When you broke it fighting off that ghoul over in the Wangjing subdistrict."

"I know," Jiang Cheng says loudly. He's smiling but it's too big and looks faintly alarming. Sweat has come out along his hairline. Lan Zhan has seen Jiang Cheng angry, and he has seen him maudlin, and he has seen him mean, and, occasionally, soft, but this is new. "Ha ha," he says again, the look on his face vaguely alarmed. He's still holding up his hand strangely.

"You're able to wear Zidian on it again, that's good," Wen Qing says, stepping forward and studying Jiang Cheng's wrist with a critical eye. "Any issues with range of motion?" She takes his wrist in her hand.

Lan Zhan has never seen Jiang Cheng blush this brightly before. It's somewhat alarming.

Zidian sparks on his wrist—not the same level as in the lead-up to a fight, just a running circle of bright purple sparks that roll around his fingers and wrist. Jiang Cheng is making a low sound in his throat and he clearly wants to pull his hand away, but he lets it hang there in Wen Qing's grasp, Zidian sparking anxiously.

"Well." She releases him. "You let me know if there are any problems."

"Sure will!!" he says it to her back as she pivots and heads back to her office.

Lan Zhan watches him for the series of moments where Jiang Cheng stares longingly at Wen Qing's retreating back. When he turns back around, he's still blushing and staring down at the floor, running one hand through his hair. When he glances up, Lan Zhan doesn't look away, letting Jiang Cheng clock his look for just a moment.

"Where the hell is my brother?" Jiang Cheng says angrily. "How long does it take to pee, even?" He heads off, stumbling a little over Lan Zhan's trash can, swearing at it, and storming over to the lobby.

Lan Zhan makes a mental note to tell Wei Ying all about this particular interaction later. He'll be delighted.

Wei Ying slows down in his ninth month. Wen Qing takes them both off field duty, despite Wei Ying's vociferous protestations. "Your opinion in this matter doesn't count," she says, not even looking up at him as he tries to loom over her in the office. "You're out of commission for the foreseeable future." She glances up at him as he makes an unhappy noise. "Do I need to remind you that this is an on-the-job situation you've found yourself in and the company would be liable even if you hadn't gotten knocked up in the line of duty? But that, given those circumstances, our insurance coverage requires an appropriate amount of caution?"

Wei Ying crosses his arms over his chest, which means they're resting on his—honestly impressively jutting—stomach. "I feel fine," he says. "I'm fine."

"I don't care," Wen Qing says flatly. "You're scheduled for a non-stress test in two weeks. We've got a tentative date for your c-section in twenty-six days." She looks over at Lan Zhan. "Try to keep him out of trouble until then?"

Wei Ying makes a sound like a boiling tea kettle.

Wen Qing looks quietly pleased with herself.

Twenty-six days, Lan Zhan thinks. That's such a short time. They haven't discussed what happens after the baby's born, not really.

"We've got this," Wei Ying says confidently. "It'll be fine. We work together really well, Lan Zhan. What's different about this?"

So many things. So very many things. Wei Ying knows it too, for all he avoids discussing it—he's chewing on his thumbnail as he says it, clearly rolling things over in his brain.

"There's plenty of time, anyway." He says it resolutely, like he can make the decision that twenty-six days is a lifetime. He hasn't been back to his apartment in months. They've bought many things for this impending baby—Lan Zhan has already washed the tiny, soft onesies, the swaddling blankets. They're stacked neatly in a dresser drawer he's cleared for that purpose. They have bottles and formula stored in the kitchen. They have acquired a variety of accouterments, but they're wedged in among their normal, everyday life, like things aren't certain yet, like the baby isn't very clearly en route.

Wei Ying gives him a beseeching look and Lan Zhan lets it go, for now.

Twenty-six days.

"Can I sleep with you?" Wei Ying says that night. As he's gotten further along, he naps more frequently during the day and stays up later at night. Nowhere near his previous night owl tendencies, when Lan Zhan would regularly get texts and pictures from him at one in the morning. ("It's when my best ideas get formed!") But often, when Lan Zhan gets up to go to bed, Wei Ying rouses himself to head to bed too.

"Of course." Wei Ying goes back and forth between Lan Zhan's bed and his own rumpled nest of too many blankets and sheets that need washing. More often than not, lately, it's been Lan Zhan's bed. Lan Zhan had prepared himself for Wei Ying to grow more uncomfortable as the pregnancy progressed, had sternly instructed himself to understand Wei Ying's likely need for personal space.

But as the time has drawn closer, Wei Ying has become even more tactile than before—slipping his hand into Lan Zhan's as they watch television; curling close beside him on the couch; asking to share his bed even if only for comfort. He's gotten used to Wei Ying's heavy weight beside him most nights, to Wei Ying going back and forth between a deep, heavy sleep—so deep that Lan Zhan will sometimes wake up and watch to make sure Wei Ying is, in fact, breathing—to a restless, flopping manner of rest, constantly trying to ease the pressure on his hips, his back, trying to find a cool spot on his pillow.

For all that it's February, raw and biting outside, Wei Ying is constantly overheated now. He strips down to shorts that ride far below his belly as they get to the bathroom, a stretched-out tank top barely covering his stomach. They brush their teeth together—something else that has developed as time has gone on, this bedtime routine that makes Lan Zhan feel like a bright spark has lit in his chest. Wei Ying makes sleepy faces in the mirror and Lan Zhan smiles around his own toothbrush.

When they finish and move back to the bedroom, Lan Zhan expects Wei Ying to sink heavily into bed. Instead he says, "Hey," and pushes his hand into Lan Zhan's hair, and kisses him. It's deep and it's unexpected and Wei Ying has to lean up, his belly getting in his way. Lan Zhan slides his hand over Wei Ying's sides, drawing him closer and kissing him back. Wei Ying makes a soft sound and sinks against him.

Lan Zhan is deeply turned on almost at once. If he was being honest, he's had a low thrum of desire under his skin just from watching Wei Ying's thighs in his shorts, seeing the strip of skin under the hem of the tank top, watching Wei Ying's eyes dance in the bathroom mirror.

Wei Ying is so warm against him and his skin is soft under Lan Zhan's hands. He's kissing Lan Zhan, hot and desperate and Lan Zhan can't help but push him back onto the bed. "Lan Zhan," Wei Ying gasps. "I want you to—can you please—I want—"

Lan Zhan is tugging his shorts down, and off. Wei Ying pulls the tank top off and he's naked on the bed, lit only by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. He's beautiful, and he's hard, his cock jutting up, brushing against his belly. He's leaning back on his hands and he's watching Lan Zhan with a look that Lan Zhan can't quite decipher. "Is this okay?" he says softly.

Lan Zhan can't help the quiet groan he makes as he crawls up the bed and wraps his hand around Wei Ying's cock, taking it into his mouth. His taste has grown stronger during his pregnancy, saltier, richer against Lan Zhan's tongue. Lan Zhan cannot get enough of it.

"Yes, fuck, you're so good." Wei Ying's hand is in Lan Zhan's hair and Lan Zhan wants him to pull on it, wants him to yank his face close, wants Wei Ying to drag him in and thrust into his mouth. He can feel the brush of Wei Ying's belly as he goes down and he can hear the endless, panting moans that Wei Ying gives, mixed up with half-finished words and phrases. "I can't—" Wei Ying gasps, his hips moving up as much as he is able. Lan Zhan pulls his hand away for a moment, taking a breath in through his nose and going down as deep as he can, opening his throat for it. When Wei Ying thrusts in, moaning loudly, he feels it like a jolt through his entire body. His cock jumps and he can't stop himself from pushing his hand down between his legs, grinding the heel of his palm against it.

"Fuck," Wei Ying moans. His head is thrown back, his voice coming out tight, and Lan Zhan can feel the throbbing of his cock against his tongue. He wants so much to just keep doing this—keep the hot, salty taste of Wei Ying sliding over his tongue, keep Wei Ying here on the edge. He pulls back, nearly entirely off, reveling in the sound of Wei Ying whimpering. When he glances up, he can't see Wei Ying's face—the curve of his stomach blocks his view.

It feels intimate, for Wei Ying to allow him this vantage point, more intimate, even, than the head of Wei Ying's cock in his mouth. He wraps his hand around it again, while Wei Ying pants and curses above him, and traces his tongue over the slit carefully. The sound Wei Ying makes when he does it is pleasing, sending a jolt of heat through Lan Zhan, and so he does it again.

"Please." Wei Ying is shifting above him, nearly begging as he tries to push his cock back into Lan Zhan's mouth. "Please, I—I want—" He gulps in a breath.

Lan Zhan likes making Wei Ying breathless. He goes down deep again, and keeps Wei Ying there, swallowing around him while Wei Ying makes soft noises above him, nearly keening as he rocks slowly into his mouth. It takes a while this way, the head of Wei Ying's cock rocking against Lan Zhan's soft palate as he grits out curses above him. Lan Zhan gets lost in the rhythm of it, finding something akin to meditation in the slide of Wei Ying's cock, the clench of one hand in his hair, the desperate sounds he makes above him.

Wei Ying holds Lan Zhan's hair tightly as he shakes desperately just before coming down Lan Zhan's throat. Lan Zhan nearly comes from it as well, the heel of his hand still pressing against his cock through his pajama pants, close, so close.

He manages to hold back until Wei Ying is finished. He lets Wei Ying slip out of his mouth, then leans back on his heels, pushing his pajama pants down his thighs. Wei Ying's eyes are on him as Lan Zhan jerks off hard and fast, coming over his own fist after only a handful of desperate strokes.

Afterward, he brings a soft cloth to wipe his come off of Wei Ying's thighs, Wei Ying shifting and sighing under him. Lan Zhan switches off the bedroom light and crawls into bed beside Wei Ying. Wei Ying moves back against Lan Zhan naked, his skin warm and lush under Lan Zhan's hands.

"It's so soon." Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying's hands moving restlessly over his belly. "The baby," he says quietly into the darkness. "It's almost here." Wei Ying sighs. "It's so weird," he murmurs sleepily. "What's it going to be like?"

Lan Zhan wishes he knew.

Wei Ying had woken up in, as he called it, "a mood." Lan Zhan came out to him bustling around the kitchen, clad in a giant hoodie that Lan Zhan had bought him a couple of months ago that now only barely fits him. His legs are, per usual, bare, strip of belly showing no matter what he's wearing.

Lan Zhan, awake but still half thinking about the dream he'd had—something about scaling a building and somehow never getting to the top—watches him from the kitchen doorway. He really is alarmingly big now, and Lan Zhan wonders, yet again, how he carries such a burden on his slim body. Even now, he has one hand on his lower back as he stirs the congee on the stovetop. Still, he's wiggling his hips and humming along to some music that's only in his head. Lan Zhan peers at the kitchen clock—it's 5:37AM.

"It's early for breakfast, isn't it?" He moves into the kitchen. "Here, let me."

"No, uh-uh, I got it." Wei Ying pushes him away with a hip. "Just get me the bowls, I can't reach them anymore." This much is true—Wei Ying has lately been unable to reach anything but their lower cabinet shelves, his belly providing a barrier against it. He's long-limbed and tall, but even that doesn't make up for his current girth. Lan Zhan smiles as he reaches for the bowls and brings them over. Wei Ying's frustrated noises as he struggles to do small tasks are endearing.

"I woke up starving," Wei Ying says. "This eating for two business is no joke." He spoons the congee into the two bowls while Lan Zhan lays out napkins and spoons. He starts the water for tea, gets the cups ready with Wei Ying's one allowed serving of decaf.

Wei Ying sits down at the table. Even that's a procedure nowadays—his back aches all the time and his balance is off, so he lowers himself carefully into it, landing with a sigh and a wince. "I've been pregnant," he announces, "for eighty-seven years."

His cesarean section is scheduled for four days out. His non-stress test went well—no problems detected.

("The baby has a strong heartbeat," the sonographer had said.

"It's alert," Wen Qing had followed up, studying the screen. "And very round. Not much movement of late, I'd say? It's got no room in there."

Wei Ying had winced, even as she said it. "Every time it moves, I feel like an important internal organ is being shifted."

"Oh, that's accurate," Wen Qing had said.)

"It does seem like it's been longer than nine months," Lan Zhan says now, however.

"It does." Wei Ying stirs his congee, looking down at it with one eyebrow up. He's pulled his hair up into a messy bun on top of his head—as he's gotten more and more pregnant, he's less able to deal with hair in his face or on his neck. He's warm all the time; he's hungry all the time; he has to pee all the time. He's going through quite a lot.

Lan Zhan spoons some into his own mouth. "It's good," he says.

"I'm glad." Wei Ying wriggles a little in his chair, still just playing with the congee with his spoon. "I slept really good, solid. No weird dreams this time."

He's been having a series of intensely strange dreams that leave him unsettled come morning. Wen Qing says this is normal, particularly in the third trimester. "Yet another thing to chalk up to hormonal weirdness," she'd said.

"Good," Lan Zhan says. He watches Wei Ying eat a spoonful of congee before dropping the spoon back into the bowl. "I thought you were starving?" he asks.

"I thought so, too." Wei Ying makes a face. "I don't know, not anymore." He lifts up the spoon again, looking at it contemplatively. "You finish up," he says, putting it down without tasting it. "The kid is directly on my bladder, so I'm gonna go pee—again—and take a shower." He looks up at Lan Zhan. "Let's go out, after," he says. "I can't stay inside today. I need air. I need a walk. I need—" He waves his hands around. "Something."

"All right." Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying heaves himself to his feet, waving off Lan Zhan as he starts to get up to help. He watches him walk out of the kitchen, hand on the small of his back, his movements slow. He looks at the calendar on the wall, with the cesarean date marked for four days out, and he wonders.

It's March and Lan Zhan's phone tells him that the weather is raw, but not as windy as it has been. When Wei Ying emerges, he's in pregnancy jeans and a t-shirt, as well as a hoodie that doesn't close over his middle. His hair is dry, pulled up into his usual half-ponytail, tied up with the same red ribbon he'd worn the day they'd told Lan Zhan's uncle. He looks a little pale, but the smile he gives Lan Zhan is wide and genuine. "Let's drive over to the waterfront," he says. "There's that place that sells steamed buns. That's what I want."

"It's going to be freezing by the waterfront," Lan Zhan says.

"I know," Wei Ying says. "I want the breath blown out of me, just a little. We'll drive over, and park. We'll only be out for a little while. Just long enough to know that we're really living."

Lan Zhan's not sure what bitter March wind has to do with living, but Wei Ying is right that a few minutes won't hurt.

Wei Ying sits down on the bench near the entryway, reaching down for his Converse. He can't reach them. He strains his hand towards them, the looks beseechingly up at Lan Zhan. "Help," he says. "I know I have feet down there, but..." He gestures at his belly and leans back against the wall, wiggling his feet in the air.

Lan Zhan kneels down in front of Wei Ying. "I've got it," he says. He slips Wei Ying's sneakers on one by one, gently tightens the laces around his swollen ankles. He looks up at him when he's done. "Converse sneakers have terrible arch support."

"Yeah, but they're cool." Wei Ying holds his hands out now. "Help," he says again. "God, I'm a fucking disaster."

Lan Zhan hoists Wei Ying to his feet and makes him bundle up in his winter coat and a huge scarf that covers half his face. The coat is second hand but big enough to button securely over his belly, and with enough swoop to it to put a smile on Wei Ying's tired face.

Lan Zhan drives them to the waterfront. The sky is clear today, a startled blue color, what few clouds there are rushing across it like they're late to a meeting. There are more people out today than he expected—he supposes it makes sense, it's the first clear Saturday in months—and they have to park a few blocks away. Lan Zhan opens his mouth to suggest going to another place that they can find closer parking at but -

"These pork buns," Wei Ying declares. "I am telling you."

So pork buns it is. He helps lever Wei Ying out of the car and they start making their slow way over to the restaurant. Wei Ying is happy and satisfied, chatting aimlessly. "Did you see that article?" he demands. "About the new detection tech they're using to flush out spirits? It's so fucking—" He falls silent, cutting himself off. His steps falter.

Lan Zhan glances over. "Wei Ying?"

Wei Ying doesn't respond for a moment. Then he lets his breath out in a long exhale and says, "No, really, you gotta read it, it's super cool."

Lan Zhan stops walking. "Are you all right?"

"Of course." Wei Ying sounds impatient, tugging him onward. "I'm fine. I'm starving, that's all."

"You said you were starving this morning, but then you didn't eat." Lan Zhan has his hand on his phone in his pocket, strongly considering texting Wen Qing.

"That's why I'm starving," Wei Ying says, frowning. "Also, the congee didn't agree with me."

Lan Zhan thinks about how pale he'd been when he emerged from getting showered and dressed this morning. "You threw up?"

Wei Ying makes a face. "It was nothing compared to the way it was at the beginning," he says. "And I felt better right after."

Lan Zhan draws to a halt again. "Wei Ying."

"It was the congee," Wei Ying says insistently. "Please, just let me have my pork bun. I need a pork bun."

They get pork buns. Lan Zhan texts Wen Qing while Wei Ying orders, to say that Wei Ying had been sick this morning. He doesn't get an immediate response and Wei Ying is pressing a pork bun into his hands, so he tucks his phone away.

They eat their pork buns while leaning against the low cement pillars overlooking the harbor. Lan Zhan can't stop studying Wei Ying, who appears not to notice. His cheeks have bright spots of red, high up, and the wind off the water is strong enough to whip their breath away. Wei Ying eats two bites of his pork bun before wrapping it back up. "There's no room in there," he says, when he catches Lan Zhan's look. "See this? This part—" He measures out three quarters of his looming stomach. "That's all baby. I have very little space for things like food and internal organs."

The sky is getting cloudier as they eat and even Wei Ying admits it's too cold to walk along the water afterwards and they make their slow way back to the car. "This is nice," he says. "Isn't this nice, Lan Zhan? I have good ideas sometimes. You know what we should do next?"

"Mn?" Lan Zhan looks over at him. Wei Ying has drawn to a stop and his face looks strange. His hand, where it's looped through Lan Zhan's arm for balance, tightens for a handful of seconds. Then he lets out his breath and starts walking again.

"Stop looking at me like that," he says flatly, tugging Lan Zhan along. "I'm fine."

"What was that, Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan pulls out his phone again, glances down at it. No message from Wen Qing.

"It wasn't anything!" Wei Ying presses one hand against the small of his back, hanging on more tightly to Lan Zhan with the other one. "Everything hurts all the time, you know that. Just sometimes more than others."

Lan Zhan tugs at his arm.

Wei Ying turns to look at him. He has a soft smile on his face. "You worry too much," he says. "We're both ready for this to be over, huh?"

There's a moment between them then, looking at each other while the wind off the water buffets them from behind. Then Wei Ying laughs a little. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go home."

Getting back to the car is a relief. Lan Zhan helps Wei Ying in, lowering him down slowly while Wei Ying grumbles about it, and then hurries around to his own side. He starts driving them home, still glancing down at his phone occasionally, even though he's aware that's a hazardous thing for a driver to do.

"Hey," Wei Ying says suddenly.

Lan Zhan jerks his gaze over to him, but Wei Ying is just looking intently out the window.

"Hey, look," he says again. "Look where we are. Pull over, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan slows but doesn't stop. "Wei Ying..."

"Please." Wei Ying's tone is urgent. "Just for a second."

Lan Zhan looks up ahead. It's the building—the same one where Wei Ying had been cursed. The same one Su She's spirit had drawn them to. "That," he says slowly, "seems like a very bad idea."

Wei Ying shakes his head. "Look," he says, as Lan Zhan pulls reluctantly to a stop out front. "The spirit arrays are still in place. The lock-down team has it sealed up tight. Besides, they did a full investigation right after that thing with Su She." He's still looking out the window at the building. "No negative energy, no disgruntled spirits." He starts to get out of the car.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan jumps out and comes around to where Wei Ying is levering himself out of the car, belly first. Lan Zhan has a moment where he strongly considers just pushing him back into the car and locking the door.

"Listen." Wei Ying's voice is breathless and he's clutching the door frame. Lan Zhan sighs and reaches down to carefully take his arms, getting him on his feet. "Give me like, one minute, okay? Just a minute, I just have to see something."

"This is a bad idea," Lan Zhan says flatly.

"One minute, I just want to—one minute, and then after, I promise you can take me in to see Wen Qing." Wei Ying is looking him directly in the eye, his face serious. "She'll tell us I'm fine, and we'll go home and watch TV, and I won't go anywhere until the baby's due, okay?"

Lan Zhan should fight this. Every part of him is telling him he should fight this. He's never been able to deny Wei Ying anything. "If the spirit arrays are still in place and the location is in lockdown," he says, "how will we even be able to get in?"

"Well," Wei Ying says, moving forward, his face tilted up as he studies the building. "They're my spirit arrays." He shoots Lan Zhan a grin over his shoulder. "My protection spells." He's moving closer to the building, making a series of complex movements with his hands. "They know me."

Lan Zhan is, as ever, caught up in how sure and certain and powerful Wei Ying looks as he works. This is simple for him, a minor annoyance only as he swiftly and gently undoes the arrays just enough so they can slip through the door.

Lan Zhan looks down at his phone again. He's probably fine. Wen Qing has texted. But I'm in the office today. Bring him by so I can take a look.

The building is as dusty and dimly lit as the last time they'd been there, but Wei Ying isn't wrong about there being no sense of a vengeful spirit. It feels peaceful and the light that slants through the window is grey but almost bright. They make their way carefully through the lobby, moving slowly, Lan Zhan keeping an eye on Wei Ying. It's a deep building and it takes them a couple of minutes to get to where they're going.

Wei Ying takes a cautious step forward, his sneakers crunching against the dirt on the floor. "I just want to see—oh."

He stops in the doorway of the cultivation chamber. Lan Zhan is peering over his shoulder to see what drew him to a stop before he realizes Wei Ying's hand is clenched against the doorframe and his breath is coming in tight, sharp pants. "Wei Ying!" A spell? A spirit?

But Lan Zhan is an idiot, because Wei Ying's other hand is clenched against his stomach and he's hunched over a little as he pants through it.

Fuck.

Wei Ying takes another breath and straightens up. "It's fine," he says. "Let me just—"

"No." Lan Zhan takes his arm. "We're going."

"Two minutes," Wei Ying says. "I've just got to—"

"That was a contraction," Lan Zhan says grimly.

"It wasn't. It was just this sort of tight feeling. It happens, off and on." Wei Ying waves him off. "It's not a big deal at all."

Lan Zhan feels like he's losing his mind. "Wei Ying."

"Two minutes." Wei Ying pulls away from him, going into the cultivation chamber. "I just have to—oh."

Lan Zhan lurches forward, certain it's another contraction. Instead, when he manages to wrench his gaze from Wei Ying's awed face, it's the fact that the ancient cultivation chamber is full of golden light that seems to be streaming in from the outside, even though Lan Zhan is aware that it's a grey March day outside and also that any windows in this room have long since been boarded over.

The room isn't dirty or broken down anymore. The workbench is neat, pristine—stacks of talisman papers, clear glass bottles full of swirling, colorful liquids, a pile of scrolls neatly aligned in the center of the desk. It feels peaceful. It feels important. It feels powerful.

"That's weird, huh?" Wei Ying has a careful hand over his belly as he gazes around. "That's..."

He trails off and Lan Zhan's gaze shoots back to him immediately, but there's not that clench of pain on his face right now. He looks like he's not entirely here—his face is tilted up, his eyes distracted, not quite focused. When Lan Zhan lays a hand on his arm, he doesn't move or acknowledge it. It doesn't feel like resentful energy—the room is full of peace and Lan Zhan is aware that something important is happening.

Still, he pulls out his phone, thumbs it unlocked, and tries to call Wen Qing.

No signal.

One minute goes by. Two. Wei Ying's eyes are open and his breathing is light and steady.

Lan Zhan, himself, feels like he might have a heart attack if Wei Ying doesn't come back to himself soon.

Between one blink and the next, the light in the room fades. It goes back to dim and grey and Wei Ying staggers back a step, Lan Zhan's arm going around him to steady him. "Wei Ying," he says, and it comes out more frantic than he thought it would.

"Oh, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying is blinking at him, looking blissed out, happy. "Oh, that was so cool. That was—wow."

"Can we go now?" Lan Zhan doesn't know what Wei Ying experienced, and he is going to have questions later, but right now, getting them out of here is of utmost urgency. "We should go now."

Wei Ying nods distractedly, letting Lan Zhan turn him around and start to guide him out. "Remember what Wen Qing said? About it being old power? It's old. It's older than this building." He stops, looking around. "This had to be built on the center of power. That's why—oh fuck."

Lan Zhan recognizes it this time. It's another contraction. Wei Ying pants, leaning into Lan Zhan, his face screwed up in pain. This one brings him to his knees at the end, dragging Lan Zhan down with him as he rides it out. When it eases, finally, Lan Zhan's heart is beating wildly and Wei Ying is drenched with sweat. "That was...a contraction," Wei Ying says. "Like. A real one."

"Yes." Lan Zhan gets one arm under Wei Ying, who starts getting heavily to his feet again.

"We've got to get out of here." Wei Ying is still catching his breath, as he starts moving forward, Lan Zhan's arm around him, guiding him.

"Yes." Lan Zhan's mind is racing. It's not going to be quicker to call an ambulance. The car is right out front.

"Wen Qing?" Wei Ying's voice is high, anxious. He has his eyes set on the middle distance, moving grimly forward.

"No signal," Lan Zhan says. "We have to—"

"Get out, yeah."

It feels like it takes them a lot longer to get out than it took to get in. Finally, finally, they burst through the doorway. Somehow, despite everything, Wei Ying gathers himself and closes the protective arrays behind them.

Lan Zhan loves him.

They make it to the car and Lan Zhan unlocks it, wrenches the door open, starts helping Wei Ying to lower himself in. "I'll call Wen Qing," Lan Zhan says. "She's in the office. She'll tell us what to do. She'll—" Fuck. Wei Ying's hands have clenched, one around the frame of the car, the other around Lan Zhan's shoulder. His eyes are shut and he's panting, bending forward until his forehead rests against Lan Zhan's chest. "It's happening again," he groans, just before he cries out, muffled against Lan Zhan's coat, his whole body wracked with the contraction. This one seems to go on for much longer, Wei Ying caught half in and half out of the car, while Lan Zhan holds him up.

When it eases, he lets out a half-sob, and lifts his head, looking up at Lan Zhan. "I'm so stupid," he says desperately. "This is what labor feels like. I'm in labor." He looks dazed, lost.

Lan Zhan loves him. He loves him.

"There's no place for this baby to go, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, clutching at Lan Zhan's coat as Lan Zhan lowers him the rest of the way into the car. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

Lan Zhan lifts his feet into the car, reaches to buckle him in, which takes some maneuvering around Wei Ying's stomach. "I've got you," he says with more confidence than he feels. "Wei Ying, listen to me."

Wei Ying looks at him, his eyes damp and wild.

"I've got you," Lan Zhan says again. "Hold on."

Wei Ying gives a jerky nod, and another near-sob. Lan Zhan shuts his door. He calls Wen Qing as he hurries around to the driver's side and gets in. She picks up on the first ring. "Well?" she demands.

"He's in labor." Lan Zhan starts the car.

"Fuck," Wen Qing says. "Hospital. I'm calling it in. I'll meet you there."

"It's early." Lan Zhan shoots a look over at Wei Ying. "They'll know what to do?"

"Never mind them," Wen Qing says. "I'll be there before you are. Go."

Lan Zhan does. He forces himself to drive carefully. Hazardous driving will help no one right now. The hospital is the same one where they've had all of the sonograms. They know what they're doing.

"Do they??" Wei Ying bursts out hysterically, which is the point where Lan Zhan realizes he's been keeping up a running monologue of everything that's going through his head.

"They do." Lan Zhan says it as calmly as possible. Wei Ying is breathing heavily beside him, his hands clutched tightly across his stomach as though he can keep the baby inside through sheer force of will. "We'll be there soon."

"Soon." Wei Ying's breath is coming faster. "And then they cut me open."

Lan Zhan realizes he's going over the speed limit and slows down. He reaches out one hand, palm up. Wei Ying grasps it, his own hand damp with sweat. "Wen Qing is in charge," Lan Zhan says. "She'll take care of you, and of the baby."

Wei Ying lets out a damp laugh. "We're so dumb, Lan Zhan," he says. "Why didn't we talk about this? What was our plan? We had no plan, that's what it was."

Lan Zhan takes a breath. They're only a few minutes out. "I had a plan," he says. "We have a plan."

"You always do," Wei Ying says, clutching his hand even more tightly than before. "That's why I—oh shit." He's biting his lip, hard, his fingers clenched around Lan Zhan's. "Has it even been five minutes? How far apart are these? I—" He bends over in his seat, moaning, a nearly animal-like quality to it as the contraction rips through him.

Lan Zhan decides that the speed limit no longer matters. He gets them through the final blocks to the hospital in record time. He's out of the car and at Wei Ying's side with no memory of having parked. He's reaching for Wei Ying, but Wei Ying is shaking his head. "Hang on," he gasps. "Hang on, I just need to—" He's undoing the seat belt, and swiveling his legs out of the car, but he's not getting up.

Lan Zhan stands with his hands out, waiting for the throes of the contraction (still the last one? A new one?) to pass, but Wei Ying's face isn't contorted with pain right now. He's looking up at Lan Zhan, his voice coming fast and breathless. "Just hold on, I have to tell you—" He stops and gulps in a breath.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan reaches down and grabs his hands. "We have to get you inside. The baby—"

"The baby!" Wei Ying says. "That's it, that's so exactly it."

"Please," Lan Zhan says. "You have to get out of the car."

"I'm gonna," Wei Ying says. "But you have to listen to me first." He's intent.

Lan Zhan discards several options in the space of a moment (lift Wei Ying bodily out of the car; go inside and drag a doctor out to Wei Ying; drop to his heels and bury his head in his hands right here on the sidewalk) and nods. "I'm listening."

"Great." Wei Ying takes a breath. "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you. I think. I think I was in love with you before this all even happened." He bites his lip. "I was. I mean, I had to have been, for this to have happened, but." He looks up at Lan Zhan even more intently. "I was."

Lan Zhan's brain is still processing at a completely different level than Wei Ying's. His brain is telling him Wei Ying is in labor. The baby is coming. Must get him inside. It takes him several frantic beats of his own heart before he hears what Wei Ying has said.

"And I know," Wei Ying is pressing on. Lan Zhan can feel his heart beating behind his eyeballs. "I know it's bad timing, I know this is dumb, I know I have to get in there, but I had to tell you." He gasps in a breath. "I had to tell you. You had to know."

Lan Zhan traces back through the words. "Why...why did you have to have been?" he says. "For this to happen?"

"It's what she said." Wei Ying's look turns dreamy-eyed. Lan Zhan takes the opportunity to reach down and take his hands. The relief he feels as Wei Ying, distracted, lets Lan Zhan start hauling him to his feet, is staggering. "She said it, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying is on his feet, but he's using his grip on Lan Zhan's hands to drag him closer. "The spirit. Or. The entity. I don't know. I don't know what she was. Old, old power. She said—hang on, no, listen to me." He's digging his heels in as Lan Zhan starts tugging him towards the door.

Lan Zhan is fairly certain he could lift Wei Ying up bodily right now. He's strongly considering it.

"Lan Zhan, listen. She said the spell was triggered because she knew. It was a combination of—well, Wen Qing was sort of right. Your power—our power—and the space inside me—and that we loved each other, so the baby would thrive." He looks at Lan Zhan. "Did you know that we loved each other? I didn't know. Not then. Not really. I just thought there was no way—but she said. Did you?" He's watching Lan Zhan with wild eyes. "Do you?"

It's moments like these that Lan Zhan sees the appeal of swearing. There aren't the appropriate words for his response. "Yes," is what he says. "Wei Ying. You—yes." How could he not know? "Yes."

"Oh." Wei Ying scrubs his hand over his eyes. "Oh, that's—oh." He beams up at Lan Zhan. "Will you kiss me? Kiss me, while it's still just you and me."

Lan Zhan's heart is beating in his throat and his brain is whirling, but he can kiss Wei Ying, while it is still only them. While the baby is still inside of Wei Ying, but very determined to get out. He does it, taking Wei Ying in his arms and kissing him. Wei Ying sighs and opens up against his lips, turning it deep, wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan's neck.

"What the fuck do you two idiots think you're doing?"

They break apart at the sound of Wen Qing's exasperated voice behind them.

"Wen Qing," Wei Ying says. "I—" He sucks in a breath and doubles over, going down to his knees on the sidewalk. He's grabbing at Lan Zhan's arm and crying out, his face wracked with pain. "Fuck," he grates out. "Fuck, I fucked up, I—" His face is pasty and damp with sweat as he turns to look at Lan Zhan.

"I've got you." Lan Zhan looks up. Wen Qing has sent over two nurses with a gurney. "We're going to be okay. Let's get you up."

"I can't." Wei Ying is half-sobbing. "I can't, it hurts, I can't."

The nurses are lifting him off the sidewalk efficiently but even so, Wei Ying cries out again, the sound of it cutting through Lan Zhan. "Get him inside," Wen Qing directs. "He's cleared for surgery."

Lan Zhan follows behind the gurney, his heart beating wildly.

Wen Qing looks at Lan Zhan. "We need to put him under general anesthesia," she says. "You know you can't be in the room, right?"

Lan Zhan gives a short nod. "But up until you take him?"

"Get on the elevator with us," she directs. "You have a few minutes only. We have to move."

Lan Zhan pushes next to Wei Ying, who is curled up on his side on the gurney. The most recent contraction seems to be over, and he's got his sweaty face pressed against the sheet, his eyes closed. Lan Zhan can see his pulse jumping in his throat. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan ducks down close to him, puts a hand on his head, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of his face.

The corner of Wei Ying's mouth tugs up just a little. "You're here," he says.

"I'm here." Lan Zhan's heart is in his throat. "Wen Qing will take care of you. She knows what she's doing."

"Hah." Wei Ying shifts a little, his eyes still closed. He has one hand clasped protectively over his belly. "I sure hope so." He winces as the elevator door dings, and moans as the gurney bounces when the nurses push it out.

Things move pretty quickly after that. Wei Ying's face tightens up as another contraction starts. Wen Qing shoves Lan Zhan into a waiting room and disappears down the hall with Wei Ying. "I'll come get you," Wen Qing yells back. "When it's all done."

The sudden silence of the waiting room is nearly deafening. Lan Zhan looks down—his hands are trembling. He should call Wei Ying's siblings. He should call Lan Huan. He can't bring himself to do so yet. Instead, he sits and closes his eyes. He thinks about Wei Ying saying, Did you know? That we loved each other? He thinks about him saying, Kiss me, while it's still just you and me. He thinks about the curve of Wei Ying's smile. He thinks about their baby, struggling to be born.

He waits.

Wen Qing comes to get him after what seems like a very short period of time but which, Lan Zhan realizes, could have been hours. He has no idea what time they got here; no idea of how long he's been waiting. "Well?" Wen Qing says with a smile. "Want to come meet your daughter?" Her voice is softer than usual.

Daughter. Lan Zhan feels himself blinking up at Wen Qing.

Her smile gets wider. "C'mon." She leads him down the hall.

He feels like he's stumbling. His brain is moving very slowly. Daughter.

"He's still in recovery." She glances over at Lan Zhan. "He's fine. He'll be awake soon, and a little woozy. We'll keep him there for a couple of hours and then move him to a room."

She pushes open a door in a series of unremarkable doors, but behind them is his Wei Ying. He's in a bed, with the back propped up a little bit. He's in the slack, slumped sleep of the heavily medicated. He looks very pale and Lan Zhan's heart hurts with how badly he wants to take him in his arms.

Instead, he lets Wen Qing lead him to a chair just next to Wei Ying's bed. "Sit down," she says, and in the next moment, she's bringing him a bundle and pushing it into his arms.

He's looking down at his daughter. At their daughter. She is his and Wei Ying's. She is the smallest possible creature, bundled in blankets. She is wearing a hat. She looks mad. He loves her so much he feels dizzy with it.

"When he wakes up," Wen Qing nods at Wei Ying, "I hope you're ready to figure out a name."

They'd gone in circles over the months regarding the possibilities, but knowing they'd need to meet the baby first. "How can we possibly know their name before we meet them?" Wei Ying had said over and over again.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says. She weighs next to nothing in his arms but when she squirms, it's forceful. "She's strong," he says helplessly. He can't help but think about her inside of Wei Ying, the hours they'd spent watching her move restlessly from side to side. ("Somersaults," Wei Ying had said, his mouth curving in a smile. "Across my bladder.") And now. "She's here."

Wen Qing rests one hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Six pounds, seven ounces," she informs him.

Lan Zhan had never previously quite understood why a new baby's weight seems so important to people but when Wen Qing says it, he feels something akin to pride wash over him, like her size is an accomplishment. He thinks he's smiling stupidly down at her. He doesn't care.

She scrunches her face and makes a long, low noise, a quiet yowl. She settles down in the next moment and blinks her eyes open. Her face still looks slightly miffed, like she's been pulled away from an important meeting.

His heart is beating so hard. His breath feels caught in his chest. He draws his finger down her round, soft cheek.

Wen Qing squeezes his shoulder. "Your boy is waking up." She lifts her chin at Wei Ying, then walks to the other side of the room, leaving them alone.

Wei Ying's eyes are open, his pupils huge. He's blinking at Lan Zhan sleepily, a smile spreading over his face. "Hey," he says, and yawns, and then his eyes snap into focus. "Oh my god," he says, staring at the baby. "Is that ours?"

Lan Zhan gets up carefully. He glances over at Wen Qing, who nods. "She is." He bends over and puts her in Wei Ying's arms.

"She," Wei Ying breathes out. He's looking down at her with a shocked expression. "Our daughter, Lan Zhan." He's holding her close and Lan Zhan eases himself down to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. He doesn't want to jostle Wei Ying, but Wei Ying pays it no mind. He's too busy staring down at their daughter. "What's she so mad about?"

Lan Zhan traces one finger over her cheek again. It's incredibly soft. "The indignity of being born," he suggests.

Wei Ying laughs, bringing his gaze up to Lan Zhan. "Hi," he says. "This is—a lot."

Lan Zhan allows himself to reach out and touch Wei Ying's face gently. "Are you all right?" he asks.

The laugh bubbles out of Wei Ying, and he immediately winces, but keeps laughing through it. "Lan Zhan," he says then. "I am perfect."

"I am exhausted." Wei Ying looks up at Lan Zhan with a small amount of panic in his eyes. "All we did was just get her home and I am exhausted. How are we going to do this? How did they just let us be in charge of her? I should not be in charge of her. She's very small, Lan Zhan."

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says. It does seem overwhelming, to have this tiny baby in their total care. Despite knowing the baby was on the way for so long, it still feels sudden. She had wailed, loud and reedy, throughout the discharge and for the majority of the ride home. The sheer volume of it had been difficult to handle, but it had brought with it the anxiety of what it was that was causing Xie Le to cry. She wasn't wet, she had been fed, she was clean and dry and snug. "Sometimes babies just cry," the nurse who was handling the discharge had said. Her tone had been comforting. The message had not.

Xie Le had wound down to a sniffly, wearied grizzling by the time they got up to the apartment. Lan Zhan had left her in her carrier and brought both her and Wei Ying to his bedroom. Wei Ying's mouth had been tight with pain and he'd needed Lan Zhan's help to ease himself down onto the bed.

Now, Lan Zhan lifts Xie Le carefully out of her carrier. She's gazing at him, angry and dubious, her face damp with tears. She, too, looks exhausted. He lays her down on the bed next to Wei Ying and, after a moment of thought, lies down as well. She's on her back between the two of them, hiccuping every once in a while, her eyes blinking slowly. She's wormed both legs out of the blanket she'd been swaddled in and she kicks them occasionally as she adjusts to her new situation.

"She is, in fact, very small," Lan Zhan allows. "And she is ours." He looks over her at Wei Ying. "We can do this." It comes out more uncertain than he had anticipated. He is tired, as well.

Wei Ying puts his hand on Xie Le's head. "She's so soft," he says, in a tone of absolute adoration. "How is she so soft?"

She gurgles a little, and sighs, her eyes falling shut for a handful of seconds before flying open again, staring up at Wei Ying. "It's okay, baby," he says. "You can sleep."

She sighs again, still staring at him. "So distrustful," he says. "She definitely doesn't believe we're qualified." He looks up at Lan Zhan. "It takes some time, I guess," he says, "to live up to the name."

Lan Zhan looks at Xie Le, blinking slowly now. He thinks that the name is more a wish, a hope, they have for her—joy, harmony, in the heart, mind, and soul. "She'll have it," he says softly.

"I know," Wei Ying agrees.

Lan Zhan can't stop watching them. Wei Ying, pale and tired, his hair a little greasy, tugged back into a messy ponytail, so beautiful that Lan Zhan can't breathe quite right as he looks at him. Their daughter—her eyes fully shut now, breathing so deeply as she falls asleep that her whole body moves with each breath—between them. "Wei Ying." It's all he can say.

"Ah, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying reaches towards him and then winces, sagging a little against the bed, one hand pressed over his stomach where the incision was stitched up. "Fuck," he says softly. "That's going to get old real quick."

Lan Zhan shifts closer, carefully, and puts his hand on Wei Ying's shoulder.

"I'm okay," Wei Ying says, and looks down at Xie Le. "It was worth it."

Lan Zhan thinks about the lifetime of worry he experienced in the waiting room, all the ways things could have gone wrong as Wen Qing worked to bring their daughter into the world. He looks at Wei Ying, words whirling in his brain. "Wei Ying," he says again.

Wei Ying looks at him, his eyes dark and warm. "Lan Zhan," he says. "I'm such an idiot."

"You are not," Lan Zhan says, a shot of defensiveness at Wei Ying's own words about himself running through him.

Wei Ying's mouth curves up in a sleepy smile. "A little bit, though," he says. "Lan Zhan, when we were in the cultivation chamber—the spirit knew. She knew us. She—ah, I am such an idiot, it's true. I kept telling myself that this was just about the baby, that it wasn't about us, that it couldn't be about us. But—" He reaches up and tugs Lan Zhan's hand from his shoulder, presses it up against his own chest, his hand curled around it. "How could it not be about us?"

Lan Zhan can only look at Wei Ying, can only do his best to let his feelings come through in that manner.

Wei Ying flushes a little, and shivers. "When you look at me like that, it's..." He shakes his head. "Every time you looked at me like that, I felt it. I felt it, but I didn't let myself believe it." He tilts his head against the bed.

"Do you believe it now?" Lan Zhan asks.

"I do." Wei Ying smiles softly, his eyes warm. "Come here for a second."

Lan Zhan shifts forward. Xie Le sighs in her sleep as he leans over her. Wei Ying's watching him. "Kiss me," he says.

Lan Zhan does. Even here, even now, after all this time, it feels daring. He pulls back after pressing his lips softly against Wei Ying's.

Wei Ying moves a little, wrapping one arm around Lan Zhan's neck. "Lan Zhan," he says, his voice low and quiet. "Kiss me again."

When Lan Zhan presses his lips against Wei Ying's, Wei Ying sighs quietly against him, his mouth opening a little, deepening the kiss. "Oh," he says, when Lan Zhan finally, reluctantly, pulls away. "Oh, how did I miss it?" He sighs again. "How did I not know?"

"I missed it, too." Lan Zhan props himself up on one elbow, allowing himself to push a wayward strand of hair back from Wei Ying's face. "We both did. But we know now." He lets himself trace the curve of Wei Ying's cheek, his heart stuttering a little as Wei Ying smiles, closing his eyes and pressing his face against Lan Zhan's hand.

"We do." Wei Ying mumbles it against the pillow. His eyes stay closed, eyelashes dark against his cheeks.

"Sleep," Lan Zhan says, unnecessarily, as Wei Ying's breathing deepens. He looks at Wei Ying's sleeping face, and then down at their daughter's. Her cheeks so round, her mouth open, her face extremely serious, eyebrows drawn down. Their home is quiet, their bed is soft, and he tucks his arm under his head and watches his family sleep for a long, long time.

Jiang Cheng is holding the baby and she's staring up at him, calm and fascinated. She's swaddled but one tiny hand has escaped and she's reaching up towards his face, the movements uncertain.

Lan Zhan is leaning in the kitchen doorway, waiting for the tea kettle to boil. Jiang Cheng had taken her confidently when Lan Zhan had passed her over and Lan Zhan has to remind himself that Jiang Cheng was already an uncle before Xie Le. He has more experience with babies than Lan Zhan himself does.

Xie Le looks tiny in his broad arms. He's smiling down at her, soft.

"She cried for a solid hour before you got here," Wei Ying says. "She was starving but was also refusing to take the fucking bottle in her mouth. Even though she definitely knows how." His tone is soft and full of profound affection that belies his exasperated words.

"She's no dummy," Jiang Cheng says, still beaming down at her. "Good job, giving your daddy a hard time."

Wei Ying wriggles a little with happiness, clutching the pillow against his belly where he's still healing. "She's a pain in my ass," he says. He beams over at Lan Zhan. "So, uh, listen, Jiang Cheng," he says. "We wanted to tell you something."

"Oh my god, what have you done now," Jiang Cheng says flatly.

"Nothing!" Wei Ying glances shyly over at Lan Zhan. "It's only that, well." He takes a breath. "I'm gonna give up my apartment. We're moving in together." He takes another, deeper breath. "Lan Zhan and I, we're...together."

Jiang Cheng is softly jiggling Xie Le, still looking at Wei Ying expectantly.

Wei Ying gazes back at him, blushing a little bit.

"Oh,"Jiang Cheng says finally. "Oh, that's the thing you had to tell me? That's the news?" He blows out his breath. "I knew that," he snaps loudly. Xie Le startles a little bit in his arm and immediately gets the hiccups. "Sorry, Xie Le," Jiang Cheng says soothingly. "Sorry, sorry." She calms down, looking up at him with calm consideration, her body jerking a little with hiccups. "I knew that," Jiang Cheng says again, in a quiet, soothing tone. "Everyone knew. What, did someone finally decide to tell you?"

He glances up at his brother. Wei Ying's blushing harder now.

Jiang Chen groans and says to Xie Le, "Did you know your dads are really stupid?"

She coos, as if in agreement.

Lan Zhan looks at Wei Ying fondly and ignores Jiang Cheng entirely.

"Traitor," Wei Ying says to her, just as there's a knock on the door. "Oh, that'll be Lan Huan."

Lan Zhan lets his brother in. He'd visited at the hospital, as Jiang Cheng had, but Wei Ying had demanded a "family playdate" and Lan Zhan had not refused.

There's an awkward handoff of Xie Le once Lan Huan has said hello and come back from washing his hands. Lan Zhan glances at Wei Ying, who is simply beaming up at their two brothers, handing off their tiny daughter. He's got tears standing in his eyes—he's cried at the drop of a hat since the birth.

Lan Huan stands in the middle of the room, Xie Le in his arms. He's staring down at her softly. "She is beautiful," he declares.

Xie Le hiccups up at him. Every adult in the room laughs and she peers around uncertainly.

Lan Zhan serves everyone tea and by the time they're all settled, Xie Le is griping a little in Lan Huan's arms. Lan Zhan goes to get her and brings her over to Wei Ying. She nuzzles up against his chest immediately, knees pulled up, face pressing against his hoodie. Her eyes are shut and her bottom lip falls open. Lan Zhan is the one who must blink back tears for a moment, now.

He pulls his gaze away from her and looks at his brother. Lan Huan is studying him from across the room. His silence speaks volumes as Lan Zhan meets his eyes. The two of you and Finally and It's right and I'm glad.

They talk about the birth—Wei Ying has worked the situation with the curse and the warehouse and the labor and the pork buns into a tale that never fails to make him laugh so hard he ends up gasping in pain around his still-healing surgery incision. Towards the part where Wei Ying is communing with the spirit in the warehouse, Xie Le sighs against his chest and he looks down at her, his eyebrows going up. "Oh my god, kid," he says. He looks over at Lan Zhan. "I think a diaper change is in order." His nose is wrinkled as he presses his lips to the top of Xie Le's head. "Go to your daddy, stinky girl."

Lan Zhan rises, going to get her from Wei Ying.

"He's fully in charge of diaper duty for a while," Wei Ying says. "Until I heal a little bit more. I'll do my fair share then, Lan Zhan. I promise."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I do not mind."

"Can I assist?" Lan Huan asks, also rising.

Lan Zhan tilts his head and Lan Huan follows him.

Lan Zhan is not yet an expert at the process. Xie Le gets excited by being freed from the swaddle and she flails quite a bit. He ends up having to clean poop off of her foot, as well, when it somehow lands squarely in the diaper almost as soon as he gets it open. When he glances up, Lan Huan is smiling at him and Lan Zhan realizes he's smiling, as well, as he cleans up his very messy daughter.

"Happy?" Lan Huan is watching him.

Lan Zhan looks at him. "Yes." His chest feels full, like he can't quite catch his breath for how happy he is.

Lan Huan nods. "Good." He sounds...fierce. Protective.

Lan Zhan, his hand on his daughter's belly to keep her in place (she's so small, he can practically encompass her with it), smiles at him.

He gets her securely in the new diaper and into a fresh onesie (light blue, with a bunny pattern) as she wiggles a little and gurgles up at him. He lifts her up to rest against his shoulder (he's already learned to put a spit-up towel down first), cupping her bottom with his hand. He carries her back out, a sweet-smelling bundle, so small against his shoulder. She's snuffling into his neck and drooling in his hair.

When they get back out, Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng are hugging each other on the couch. When Lan Zhan and his brother enter, Jiang Cheng pulls away. Lan Zhan notices he's careful not to jostle Wei Ying as he does so.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, while Jiang Cheng scrubs one hand over his face, wiping away tears, looking strangely shy. "Look at her."

"She's so small," Jiang Cheng says roughly. "She's super tiny. And you were so huge."

"Still am, mostly," Wei Ying says. "It's gonna take some time for my body to figure out where everything goes now that she's out." He doesn't sound unhappy about it.

Lan Zhan sits beside Wei Ying, who immediately shifts to press up against him.

Jiang Cheng eyes Wei Ying. "She's gonna give you a run for your money," he says. "She's already got you wrapped around her finger."

Wei Ying grins broadly. "Says you," he says, lifting his chin at the absolutely enormous stuffed bunny Jiang Cheng had brought for Xie Le.

Jiang Cheng flushes. "It's very soft, okay?" he says brusquely. "Anyway. Shut up. When is A-Jie getting here? She'll agree with me."

Lan Huan is sitting in the armchair, across from the couch, sipping his tea and looking content. Lan Zhan sits and listens to Wei Ying and his brother happily squabble. He feels Xie Le's heart beating against his shoulder, her soft breath warm against his neck. He thinks that, maybe, just sometimes, curses aren't actually that bad.