we_bring_hell | This is Halloween!

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This is Halloween!

The Bar loves her holidays, but she is also capable of respecting religious strictures. That's why she put a lot of thought into finding a Halloween costume for Harrow that works with her face paint and general insistence on the monochromatic.

Harrow, for her part, is baffled by the white-pinstriped black suit and the oversized bow, but the gloves are very cool, and the buckled shoes suit as well. She has no idea what's going on but she can live with this.

The Bar seems even more unusually populated than usual, and there are a lot of gourds around. Hm.

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“What did you wish for?”

There is a pile of brightly decorated napkins beside the platter. Some have carved gourds with grinning gap-toothed faces. A few have black cats. He selects one of these.

"If I tell you," he says, reproachful, as he nudges Lan Zhan in the side, "then it won't come true. At least, that's what Madam Bar told me."

Surely with this many cakes, Wei Wuxian can have another one! He grabs a cupcake topped with a single red raspberry and gets to work peeling off its paper wrapper.

"I did not think I'd been here long enough to celebrate a birthday, but if she wishes to shower me in desserts, I won't object."

Perhaps it is just unfamiliarity with the wings that is the reason Wei Ying ends up being swatted with white feathers for his chiding nudge.

Perhaps.

Certainly Lan Wangji looks innocent of it all as he pulls his wing back and deliberately selects a small cake for himself.

"Good. Wei Ying should have nice things."

Lan Zhan! How dare. Wei Wuxian splutters as he nearly ends up with a mouthful of feathers, but soon enough he's grinning, bright and fond, his nose wrinkling with the force of his smile.

"I already have plenty of nice things," he says, and, shameless as ever, punctuates this with a firm kiss to Lan Zhan's temple.

"Mn. Still. You should have more."

His tiny smile is warm.

"I am content with what I have now," he says, magnanimous. "Chocolate cakes, and... dessert."

He waggles his eyebrows with zero subtlety and bites into the cupcake. Can anyone fault him for trying to make Lan Zhan blush? Now that he knows well what lurks beneath that placid surface, he must grab the upper hand sometimes.

The faintest hint of pink flushes the upper curve of his ears.

"Shameless," he murmurs, and considers his own cupcake, then considers Wei Ying.

"Only content? That will not do."

A blush is still a blush! He will happily claim his victory.

And, though he is certain to lose it with his next question, he asks anyway: "Oh? Did you have something in mind, so I am not only content?"

"Several things."

He licks deliberately at the cupcake, appreciating the dark chocolate icing.

"But perhaps we can start with one, or two."

His tone remains perfectly mild.

Damn it. Wei Wuxian lets out a small, giddy laugh, his cheeks flaring far brighter than Lan Zhan's ears.

"Ah, Lan Zhan," he says with a mock-wistful sigh, setting his chin in his hand, "I remember when I hardly had to say anything at all and you would stammer and look away. Now here you are, always making me blush terribly."

"That was before."

One white wing starts to move almost unconsciously, but he manages to catch it before it stretches out to him.

"And Wei Ying looks pretty when he blushes."

The only reason Wei Wuxian does not bury his face in his hands is because he still holds a half-eaten cupcake. "Lan Zhan," he says instead, hardly able to get his name out around the next burst of snickering. "I know I started it, but have mercy on me!"

"Mn."

There is deep satisfaction in the sound, but he leaves it at that.

Instead, he sets his cupcake aside on the napkin and begins to search in the pocket of the brown corduroy trousers he is wearing, where his qiankun bag should be.

Wei Wuxian polishes off the cupcake, eyeing Lan Zhan with renewed appreciation as he rummages through his pockets. Making any sort of comment would leave Lan Zhan unfazed and Wei Wuxian bright red again, though; he will leave it unremarked upon.

For now.

(Ah, how the times have changed! Someday, though. Someday, he will learn how to properly fluster Lan Zhan again.)

Finally, finally, he manages to find what he is looking for, and draws out two packages, one much smaller than the other.

Both are carefully wrapped in white silk. It is not obvious, unless one were to look very, very closely, enough to see the subtle cloud embroidery and realize that Lan Wangji has repurposed part of his ocean-marked set of robes. (And not for the first time.)

He sets both down on the bartop between them.

"Happy birthday, Wei Ying."

Behind the sunglasses, Wei Wuxian's eyes widen. "You -- ?"

The packages may as well be wrapped in spun gold for how delicately Wei Wuxian reaches for them. He draws the larger of the two closer, skating his thumb over the white silk. "Lan Zhan, tell me you did not go too far for these."

"I did not," he promises.

The larger package is rectangular, and about two fingers' span in width.

The black wings at his shoulders dip a few centimeters as he sighs in relief. Throwing Lan Zhan another shy, wondering glance, he begins to unwrap the first gift. A book, perhaps? It's the right size for it.

As the silken fabric falls away, it becomes clear that the gift is indeed a book.

The cover is a deep, deep blue, but there is no title written in the block allotted for it, not yet, as Lan Wangji had decided to keep the mystery intact for as long as possible, until Wei Ying opened the book itself. The binding has clearly been done by hand, with great care.

When he opens it, he will find a copy of a musical score for a very, very familiar melody, written in Lan Wangji's own calligraphy. There are three sections; one is the music alone, written for the dizi, the second contains the same piece written as a duet for dizi and guqin, and the third contains a transcription of the lyrics that Wei Ying has so recently heard.

His breath catches the instant he realizes what he is reading. "Lan Zhan," he whispers, for lack of anything else to say.

Gently, he pages through the score. At the duet, he brings his hand to his mouth as if to catch the soft oh that escapes him; when he reaches the lyrics, he almost starts to laugh again, unable to contain the swell of love so huge it nestles right against the inside of his ribs.

It still feels as if Lan Zhan sang to him in a dream. Here is proof: he did not imagine it. Any of it.

"Lan Zhan," he says again, and when he looks up his eyes are brimming bright with tears, cheeks aching from a smile that could light the world. "It's perfect."

He reaches out to cup Wei Ying's cheek with one hand, gently brushing away a tear with his thumb.

His soft smile says everything.

He laughs a little, covering Lan Zhan's hand where it rests on his cheek. "Thank you," he whispers.

It is not easy to pull Lan Zhan into an embrace with the wings in the way, but Wei Wuxian does his best, wrapping his arms tight around his waist and kissing him soundly.

He pulls him close and kisses him back, then slides one arm around his waist and keeps it there.

"You can add the title," he thinks to say. "I did not want to spoil the surprise by having you see it before opening the book."

He would be happy to do so, of course, but he likes the idea of Wei Ying's calligraphy forming the final seal on this work.

Another laugh, a little wobbly. "Lan Zhan, I cannot believe you wrote lyrics but still have not found a title," he says, lacing his fingers together behind Lan Zhan's back. "I will have to think of something good."

Lan Wangji stares at him in absolute shock for several long seconds.

"... I would truly like to know," he says, finally. "How your memory is sometimes so poor."

A beat of silence.

"It has a title."

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