( Lan Zhan is a terrible liar. It's in his body, the curve of it, the words he chooses not to say so that he holds to truth, as much as he can stand it. Comfort doesn't come naturally to him, raised so often without it, that his attempts are warming even in their contrasts. His palm, his fingers, dragging over rabbit to Wei Wuxian's face, where his eyes blink and skin twitches under the caress.
His nose all but twitches like the rabbit's. The weight of it slides down, until it rests in his lap more than against his chest. One hand freed from the hold on the rabbit, who reluctantly settles in to the lap provided, the second rabbit now squirming against Lan Zhan's side, then down, searching for its friend, barely registers to Wei Wuxian. Not in this red eyed moment, where the hollow in his chest feels limed a touch, warmed by his husband's effort when he doesn't, truly, wish to hear a word about any of this.
Wei Wuxian's hand flexes, touches skin warmer than his in the moment, slides to anchor the back of Lan Zhan's neck. Keeps eyes on him, and he says: )
You'd probably rather kiss me.
( Which is the only moment of not so teasing grace before he will, in fact, speak. )
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( Lan Zhan is a terrible liar. It's in his body, the curve of it, the words he chooses not to say so that he holds to truth, as much as he can stand it. Comfort doesn't come naturally to him, raised so often without it, that his attempts are warming even in their contrasts. His palm, his fingers, dragging over rabbit to Wei Wuxian's face, where his eyes blink and skin twitches under the caress.
His nose all but twitches like the rabbit's. The weight of it slides down, until it rests in his lap more than against his chest. One hand freed from the hold on the rabbit, who reluctantly settles in to the lap provided, the second rabbit now squirming against Lan Zhan's side, then down, searching for its friend, barely registers to Wei Wuxian. Not in this red eyed moment, where the hollow in his chest feels limed a touch, warmed by his husband's effort when he doesn't, truly, wish to hear a word about any of this.
Wei Wuxian's hand flexes, touches skin warmer than his in the moment, slides to anchor the back of Lan Zhan's neck. Keeps eyes on him, and he says: )
You'd probably rather kiss me.
( Which is the only moment of not so teasing grace before he will, in fact, speak. )