adoption au time! lan wangji and wei wuxian, strangers, both want...

adoption au time!
lan wangji and wei wuxian, strangers, both want to adopt a-yuan, and, as fate would have it, both can, and can't.
while they wait for the final decision, the three spend their time together.

“i beg your pardon?” lan wangji says, one hand splayed over a white folder on the counter. “i must have misheard.”
the lady looks up at him, chronically unperturbed, and repeats, “the child you want to foster has another applicant.”

lan wangji’s throat is stress-constricted and dry. he forces his hands down from the counter, the folder tacky from his palm. “how is this possible.”
“system error, never heard of those?” the lady says, “first time adopting?”

she turns back to her computer, ancient like anything else the government provides the system with. there are more documents on the screen, accompanied by printed piles around her like temple pillars.

“it is not an error, it is a child,” he says. “a boy.”
an emotionless sound behind the counter that is waist-high for him and chest-high for her. a defence and an obstacle, depending on the side you’re on.
“what is the procedure, then?” lan wangji asks.

the lady turns to him again, and lan wangji stands tall. he will adopt this boy, error or not.
“wait,” she says. “for the hearing. you and the second applicant are both eligible for the foster-to-adopt option. it will take a month or so.”

a month or so before lan wangji will be able to take a-yuan home and properly care for him. a month of a-yuan sleeping in a room full of other abandoned children, alone at night, alone until lan wangji can hold him and listen to his mindless babbling. a month or so.

“you can visit him during this time, though. i think he was going to, as well.”
lan wangji’s stomach lurches. a he, not a woman or a couple. chances are even. “i will. thank you.”

the walk back to the orphanage is well-trodden and almost instinctive at this point. it’s march, the wind feels like icicles slashing across your face. lan wangji knows his nose and cheeks are red and cold when he arrives, and hopes a-yuan will warm them up with his hands.

every time he pushes the orphanage’s front door open, he hopes to see the boy barrelling into him like he did the first time, knocking down the wall of something lan wangji didn’t know he'd had inside. hug his leg, hiding from the teacher, and tug on his fingers.

there’s no a-yuan in the foyer now, only staff heading from one room to another, carrying papers, younger children, food, clothes, more papers, and the general dread of a place where love is very little, and the demand for it is unquenchable.
“mister lan, welcome back.”

lan wangji turns to the sound, and sees miss luo qingyang, a music teacher a-yuan constantly tells him about, and nods to her, unwrapping his scarf and taking off his gloves. at least his hands are warm and won’t distress a-yuan.

miss luo rounds the ‘dump your stuff’ table, smiling. she’s one of the few people who actually smiles here, through thick and thin. lan wangji cannot offer her the same response, but he’s verbally expressed his gratitude for spending more time with a-yuan that she has to.

“a-yuan has been singing the tune you taught him last week, and asked me to play it on the piano. although i didn’t do it any justice, i’m afraid,” she laughs, but it sounds wrong now, after the news. lan wangji hangs the coat and the scarf.
“where is he?”

miss luo blinks at him. “in the nursery, of course. it’s almost dinnertime, so you have about forty-five minutes.”
“no,” lan wangji says, not looking at her. she did nothing wrong. “where is the man who also wants to adopt a-yuan.”
“oh.”

oh, lan wangji thinks, too. he hoped he would be wrong. a-yuan didn’t tell him that he’s been having another visitor, but lan wangji cannot and will not blame him for it. in the end, a child in the orphanage wants a family and care, and a-yuan suddenly got a double.

“he hasn’t come yet,” miss luo says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “i’m sorry, mister lan.”
“no need,” lan wangji says, because it’s true. it’s none of her business anyway. she does what she can, providing an emotional respite for the kids via music.

“shall i call for a-yuan? you can go to the room in the meantime.”
lan wangji nods again, and says, “thank you.”

he’s expertly familiar with the meeting room by now, too – a quicksand sofa the colour of an unripe grape – muted green; no pillows, just memories of lives and families connected or not. a couple of wonky chairs, a carpet with a toy road design on it. a-yuan loves toy cars.

there’s also a table with scattered paper and crayons on it, some bitten or broken, a lot of colours missing. when a-yuan draws for him, people are either pink or green. lan wangji is always a solid blue figure in the drawing, and a-yuan is green. small, beside him.

the door creaks open, and lan wangji turns around on his heels, spotting the boy – smiling, with a pillow fluff on the crown of his head and a trace of red marker on his cheek. he looks pleasantly tired.
“gege!” a-yuan shouts, and breaks into a run.

lan wangji crouches, opening his arms to catch the boy, who cannonballs his tiny body into lan wangji’s chest with a giggle and hugs him around the neck the next instant. lan wangji scoops him up, and closes his eyes.

a-yuan is always incredibly warm and smells of honey – maybe it’s the soap they use in the orphanage, maybe it’s the fabric conditioner, maybe the kids are fed rice cakes during the day – lan wangji is yet to ask. now, he is thawing, basking in a-yuan’s liberal affection.

a-yuan presses his face to lan wangji’s neck and draws a breath. it tickles just a smidge, and lan wangji shifts the boy in his arms. he’s so small, barely two. lan wangji’s palm almost covers his entire back.
“you smell good! what is it?”

“sandalwood,” lan wangji says. he was worried a-yuan wouldn’t like it, and only now he’s allowed himself a try. a successful one so far, is seems.
“what’s sundawood?” a-yuan chirps, tugging of the collar.

his previous shirt was ruined with green paint on a-yuan’s fingerprints. it now hangs proudly in the wardrobe, unwashed.
“sandalwood,” lan wangji amends, achingly fond. “a tree.”
a-yuan detaches himself from lan wangji’s neck, and looks up. “tall like gege?”

“no,” a-yuan frowns, “gege is most tall. and smells like a tree.”
lan wangji huffs, and kisses a-yuan’s cheek. warm and soft. almost his.
“gege’s nose is cold!” a-yuan shrieks, “can i hug it?”
“mn.”

a-yuan is very touchy, and with no small amount of astonishment lan wangji had found out that not only does he not mind it – he himself is now seeking any opportunity to touch the boy, to hug him, to kiss him, and hide him and protect from everything and anything.

a-yuan places his hot palms on lan wangji’s cheeks, murmurs, “frosty gege,” and squeezes a little. lan wangji allows that. he allows the boy everything, and xichen-ge very kindly laughs at him for that. he hasn’t seen lan wangji’s rabbits yet. he hasn't seen a-yuan.

the palms travel all over his face, exploratory and eager to touch, to feel, to count lan wangji’s lashes, although a-yuan can only count to ten. and he does so, counting again and again, stumbling and forgetting numbers. lan wangji holds him, eyes closed for counting.

“so you’re the one who wants to steal my son.”
a-yuan perks up as lan wangji’s eyes snap open.
a man, leaning on the doorframe, watches them. black on black, tall like a tree, and – smiling.
distantly, lan wangji registers that he's the most beautiful man he's ever seen.

a betraying tremor runs through his arms, and lan wangji instinctively pulls the boy closer, but a-yuan cries out, “xian-gege!” and tries to wriggle out so fiercely lan wangji has to hold him down first.
the man does exactly what lan wangji did minutes ago - opens his arms.

a-yuan sprints to the other side of the room, thumping against the stranger’s form with a laugh.
lan wangji watches them, too, now, and breathes in, out. jealousy is bitter on his tongue, suffocating, making his hands clench. a-yuan is happy to see that man just as much.

“good boy! what is it on your cheek, i wonder?” lan wangji hears. then, he sees the man stick his thumb in his mouth and meticulously wipe a-yuan’s cheek from the marker. lan wangji bristles on the spot.
a-yuan is completely fine with that, however. “we drew lanterns today!”

“will you show me? go get your drawing, i need to talk to gege, okay?”
lan wangji sees the moment a-yuan remembers himself and whirls around, looking at him. he thinks a-yuan's never expected the two adults to actually meet each other. was he hoping to be adopted by either? both?

a-yuan’s eyes are glassy, like he knows he did something wrong and will be punished for it. lan wangji beckons him to come closer, and a-yuan obeys – shuffles across the carpet, head bowed down.
“look at me,” lan wangji asks. he’s not angry with him, not ever.

he takes the boy’s hands in his, thumbs running small, soothing circles on the upper palm. a-yuan is watching him, gauging, expecting a scream, a shout, a hit, maybe – lan wangji can’t watch him all the time. he doesn’t know what a-yuan lives with here.
“it’s okay.”

it is, lan wangji tells himself, too. a-yuan doesn’t remember his parents, only his popo, who’s at the hospital now, unconscious. he wants a family. why not have two, given the chance?
“sorry,” a-yuan whispers, and lan wangji tugs him closer, kissing his forehead.
"don't be."

a-yuan fight the tears, lan wangji can see, and he nudges the boy a little in the direction of the door.
“show him the lanterns.”
“and you?”
lan wangji’s heart is beating in his throat, helpless. “if you wish.”
a-yuan beams. “wish!”
"go, then."

the boy scurries away, chanting something under his breath, and lan wangji stands up, ready for god knows what. a fight? a talk? a threat? a demand? a yell? whatever it is, a-yuan is his.
instead, he hears a chuckle.
“he’s sneaky.”
the man is still in the doorway, head tilted.

lan wangji studies his face – and is being studied back, and finds not even a trace of aggression there, which makes him feel uncomfortable and apologetic, even. in the end, none of them knew about each other until today.
“shall we sit?” the man says. “long day.”

long month, lan wangji thinks, careful not to burst out with indignation. he is irritated, and he knows the man is not to blame here, and still.
“yes,” he says, and walks up to the sofa, legs lead-heavy. the man catches him by the elbow there, and says, “thank you.”

lan wangji’s gaze flicks to his face, questioning.
“for making a-yuan happy. he is very clever, but ah, he’s two. he accidentally showed me a drawing with a blue gege, and refused to tell me about you. i thought it was someone from the staff. but here you are.”

“here i am,” lan wangj echoes. here he is, facing a man who might take a-yuan from him in a month’s time, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
“i’m wei wuxian, by the way, nice to meet you. you can call me wei ying, since we’re co-parenting for the time being.”

lan wangji is offered a hand to shake – the same that had wiped a-yuan’s cheek clean.
he takes it.
wei wuxian’s – wei ying’s – hand is street-cold, a bit dry from the frost, small in lan wangji’s own.
wei ying’s expression flickers from the touch.
“lan wangji.”

wei ying beams at him, and it looks so much like a-yuan when he’s gleeful and carefree lan wangji toys with a thought that a-yuan might be his real son, and now wei ying has come to take him home.
“great. i usually come earlier, so that’s why we haven’t met each other."

“how long?” lan wangji asks.
wei ying bites his lip – lan wangji looks away – and makes a thoughtful sound. “three weeks? give or take? and you?”
“three weeks.”
“ah.”
they are still holding hands, and no one is letting go.
lan wangji thinks it's monstrously unfair to him.

“i believe we applied on the same day, that’s why the error occurred,” wei ying says. “i hope you won’t kill me in the alley once we're out?”
“no,” lan wangji says, “in a month’s time, maybe.”
wei ying laughs, bright and genuine, and lan wangji feels a knot inside him unspool.

there’s running in the corridor, and wei ying lets go of his hand with an apologetic ‘ah.' his palm is now warm from lan wangji’s.
“lanterns!” a-yuan screams, and barrels into the room, heading straight to the sofa.
“lanterns!” wei ying says, and plops a-yuan between them.

a-yuan sighs, seemingly very content with sitting between the two of them.
“can you count them?” wei ying asks, pointing at the messy blobs of red and orange.
“to ten!" a-yuan smiles, "gege teached me!”
“taught,” lan wangji and wei ying say at the same time.

“taught,” a-yuan repeats, placid, and puts his finger on each blob as he counts. “gege teached me to count to ten. i count! o-o-ne, two-oo, seven – no, three, fo-o-ur –”
in the corner of his eye, lan wangji sees wei ying’s hand on a-yuan’s back. he wants to slap it away.

“did you say thank you to gege for teaching you?” wei ying asks, pointing lan wangji.
lan wangji opens his mouth to say that there’s no need, he was happy – and hopeful – to teach a-yuan something elementary, but wei ying actually shoots him a look. it’s so–
“thank you, gege!”

“that’s it, good boy,” wei ying praises a-yuan, rubbing his back. “now, kiddo, it’s time for dinner, you have to go. can you draw more lanterns for me tomorrow and give these to gege?”
lan wangji feels being bribed. he hates it insanely, viscerally.
“xian-gege can take them.”

“please?” a-yuan says, turning to him. he’s holding out the drawing, its edges curled from bumping against the objects on the table, a bit crumpled, the paper itself thin and cheap. there are holes in it from the marker’s moisture. there are many, many lanterns.
“of course.”

a-yuan squeaks in delight, places the drawing on lan wangji’s lap, and leans in to hug him goodbye.
45 minutes lan wangji’s been hoping to spend holding a-yuan in his arms are up. he feels betrayed and bereft. he wants to stay and watch a-yuan’s sleep. he wants him home.

a-yuan hugs both of them, and bolts away as soon as he’s done, shouting “goodnight, gege, xian-gege!” on the way out.
lan wangji watches wei ying, who is looking at the door. “he’s so independent,” wei ying murmurs, almost to himself.
“he’s scared.”
“that too.”

lan wangji stands up, careful not to exacerbate the drawing’s condition, and feels wei ying’s hand on his wrist. he looks down, and wei ying gives him a tiny smile. “can we talk?”
“we did,” lan wangji tells him. there’s nothing for them to discuss, really.
“not here. elsewhere.”

lan wangji looks at his watch, just to check, although it must be nearing six anyway, and wei ying releases him immediately. “unless you need to be somewhere? sorry, i didn’t mean to impose.”
lan wangji shakes his head. “it’s fine.”
“can i treat you to a dinner?”

a dinner. he doesn’t remember the last time he had dined with someone that wasn’t his brother. lan wangji hoped it would be a-yuan in the near future.
well.
“yes.”
wei ying makes a pleased sound – just like a-yuan – and stands up, too.
"i like spicy, you?"
"vegetarian."

wei ying drives them to a place he vouches lan wangji will like, and talks the entire way there. lan wangji is clutching the folder with the adoption papers and a-yuan’s drawing tucked safely there, too. the plastic is cutting into his palm, and with wei ying’s rambling,

it feels grounding.
wei ying talks mostly about a-yuan, about stuff lan wangji knows already and has no idea about – a-yuan’s favourite colour is green, and he likes circles. he loves cats and dogs, which wei ying, in high-pitched whisper, says he resents. he prefers fish.

he taught a-yuan how to draw fish.
wei ying talks about his job, too – he works with software.
“what kind of software?” lan wangji asks, just to be present in the conversation, although wei ying seems absolutely fine without him there.
“oh, like, all kinds of."

‘all kinds of’ turns out to be enterprise medical software, which deals with enormous amounts of various data that wei ying and a lot of other people in his department have to find a better way of sorting out of and managing.
“it’s a mess,” wei ying concludes.
"mn."

wei ying’s car has heated seats, but it does nothing to sooth lan wangji’s throbbing heart. he watches the street through the tinted window, watches people struggling in the wind, the bare branches and the leftover snow. it’s cold outside. lan wangji’s flat is colder, still.

“and you?” wei ying asks, changing the line. they’ve driven quite far away already. is he being kidnapped? “what do you do? if i may ask.”
“i’m a translator. medical, too.”
“oh,” wei ying draws the sound like a caramel drop. “job neighbours, huh?”
“mn.”

the place turns out to be a very nondescript place that doesn’t even have a sign, but wei ying only winks, and says, “it’s a special place for special people.”
“i’m not special,” lan wangji says.
wei ying frowns. “a-yuan would disagree with you. i do, too.”

wei ying ushers him inside like it’s fine to do that with strangers. because this is who lan wangji is, after all – a stranger. to a-yuan, to wei ying, to the system.
the restaurant is small and not crowded, despite the hour. not in your face, or pocket, really.

“my treat,” wei ying reminds him, not even glancing at the menu. he’s a regular, then. lan wangji wonders who does he take here. his family? friends? partner? partners?
“wei ying,” lan wangji says, suddenly aware of calling the man by his name for the first time.

at that, wei ying’s expression changes instantly. there’s a myriad emotions touching his every feature – the flutter of lashes, the sharp arch of his brows, the flush across his cheekbones. he looks – surprised? he looks beautiful.
“do you prefer 'wei wuxian'?" lan wangji asks.

wei ying barks out a nervous laugh. he’s not easy to read, but easy to fluster. interesting. “no! no, i don’t, hah, i really don’t, it’s just, um,” wei ying parrots, “no one calls me that.”
“you asked me to call you wei ying.”
wei ying blinks. “yeah, i did. i did, didn't i.”

the food is delicious for lan wangji and of an alarming shade of red for wei ying. lan wangji’s eyes prickle just from sitting across the table.
wei ying talks more about his job, laughs at the relevant jokes he makes, about a-yuan, about nothing in particular.

it feels right. it feels incredibly wrong. it feels like everything lan wangji has never thought he wanted – a company.
“you wanna try?” wei ying says, chopsticks buried in a bowl of roasted vegetables. “delicious. just the right amount of burn.”
"wei ying, why are we here?"

lan wangji’s plate is empty. he wants to leave, he wants to go to the orphanage and sit by a-yuan’s bed all night. what is he doing here? what was he thinking, even? wei ying might take away the boy in a months, and what they’re doing looks like a date.
“dinner?” wei ying tries.

“wei ying,” lan wangji says, “if you have things to say, please speak. i do not need to be cajoled or coaxed.”
wei ying looks abashed at his words. he puts the chopsticks down. “i wasn’t trying to. i just thought – nevermind, lan wangji, it’s just dinner, right?"

it is. a dinner with someone who might take away your future, and has all the rights and the same amount of fortune for that.
wei ying waves a hand at the waiter for the bill, and lan wangji feels an insistent needling of guilt. wei ying is being nice. lan wangji is being rude.

he draws a breath. in the end, neither of them is wrong. they both want the same, and it is unfortunate. lan wangji thinks he wants to adopt a-yuan more than wei ying does. he is being insufferably selfish.
“wei ying,” he says, while they are still alone. “forgive me.”

wei ying’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. “what for? you changed your mind about the alley?”
“no. you still have a month,” lan wangji says, and wei ying snickers. “i’m being rude. thank you for treating me. thank you for being human about it.”

wei ying’s features soften, shoulders sag just enough for lan wangji to stop abusing the napkin on his lap. it’s a miracle he hasn’t torn it yet.
“lan wangji ah, it’s fine. you’re so good i couldn’t possibly miss the opportunity to treat you.”

“oh, i – ” lan wangji begins, and cuts himself off. wei ying thinks he’s good. lan wangji just thinks wei ying doesn’t know him at all. this is fixable. “lan zhan.”
the smile that spreads across wei ying’s face is spectacular. “lan zhan,” he says, grinning. “hi.”

lan wangji prays to the heavens that wei ying doesn’t see the scarlet red of his ears. “hello, wei ying.”
wei ying is smiling, he’s smiling at lan wangji, one of the two – now three – people in the world, and it feels safe.
"dessert?" wei ying asks, "home?"
"home."

on the drive back, wei ying confesses that he’s adopted, as well.
“but i was six, so, like, i know the system’s fucked up. i still remember it. it’s a miracle that we found a-yuan before someone nasty.”
“i lost my parents when i was six,” lan wangji offers. it’s only fair.

wei ying is quiet after that, but that lasts for a single section of the road between the traffic lights.
“you’re so good with him,” he says, staring at the road. “he values you a lot.”
“he shrieks when he sees you.”
“he draws you more.”
“you don’t know that.”
“doesn't matter.”

lan wangji turns to him, full-bodied. “wei ying. everything matters. every sound he makes matters. every secret he hides matters. he didn’t tell me about you or you about me because he doesn’t want to upset either of us. he wants you for his father. he wants me. he wants both.”

wei ying glances at him, keeping his eyes on the road more for an escape than for the regulations. lan wangji might be criminally wrong.
“i know,” wei ying says, gripping the steering wheel. “he’s a greedy boy.”
“he’s an abandoned boy,” lan wangji counters. “he's desperate."

“but it’s not like we can give him what he wants, right?” wei ying says. “it’s just impossible.”
lan wangji should’ve known better. impossible, then.
“impossible,” he says, spotting his apartment building around the corner. "thank you for clarifying it."

in the deafening silence of his flat, later, lan wangji puts the see-through lanterns on his fridge. there are other drawing a-yuan has difted him over the three weeks they've known each other. all have blue figures. this one is sole fire and wishes.
impossible.

the next day wei ying comes later again, and sneaks in a banana and a chocolate bar for a-yuan, who's clutching a plushy rabbit lan wangji has snuck in for him. he eyes wei ying's items.
"we're not allowed to bring food."
"aiyah, lan zhan," is the only thing wei ying says.

it's not a competition of who can earn the boy's heart faster or for good, lan wangji ponders, watching wei ying hunched over the table with a-yuan on his lap, drawing a pink whale. wei ying is murmuring reassurances while a-yuan is drawing, tongue poking out.

it continues for days. on workdays, he and wei ying stay with a-yuan for an hour, give or take, usually listening to what the boy has been doing all day. with each passing day, a-yuan lingers at the door more, and lan wangji and wei ying leave later.

after week one, wei ying has somehow coaxed him into a dinner routine every other day of the week, different places each time. lan wangji learns about medical software more than he's ever wished to. at work, he finds it surprisingly useful, and tells wei ying so later.

"i know!" wei ying beams, extremely smug and delighted, chewing on a green bean. "once you learn something new, you start seeing it everywhere."
he drives lan wangji home every evening, and makes sure lan wangji enters the building before leaving.
three more weeks.

by the end of week two, on friday, a-yuan, chocolate-covered and still droopy somehow, doesn't want to go to dinner.
"can i go with zhan-gege and ying-gege instead?"
lan wangji drags wei ying out of the orphanage, and in the car, wei ying bursts into tears.

"let's kidnap him, lan zhan, i can't, i just can't take it anymore, i want him home, i want him safe and home," wei ying sobs into lan wangji's neck, shuddering with his entire body. "please, lan zhan. i can't go away anymore."
lan wangji holds him, and doesn't cry.

wei ying cries until his head splinters with pain and his stomach hurts from constricting, so lan wangji drives them home. wei ying is half-asleep when they arrive, and lan wangji has barely had the change to ease him out of the coat and shoes when wei ying crashes on the sofa.

he's asleep in seconds, curled up on himself, face red and puffy from crying. he's breathing unevenly, lashes still wet and clumpy.
lan wangji adjusts the pillow under his head and thows a blanket over him.
in the shower, lan wangji cries. in the night, he watches wei ying.

the morning is better for a single reason of an entire weekend being ahead of them. wei ying stumbles into the kitches just as breakfast is ready.
"time?" he asks blearily.
"eight. clothes are in the shower for you."
"mmmm," wei ying decides on, rubbing at his face. "'m sorry."

lan wangji shakes his head. "no need. go shower."
wei ying nods about ten times, slapping his face a couple times for good - bad, in lan wangji's extremely biased opinion - measure, and heads off to the shower.

wei ying, robe-clad and wet-haired, yells when he sees the rabbits in the living room, and drops to his knees in front of the hutch, sticking his finger in.
"they are such fluff balls! lan zhan! why didn't you tell me about them before?"
"you like fish."

wei ying looks up at him, dumbfounded, for a long moment, and then smiles so wide his cheeks must hurt. lan wangji's certainly do.
"you're funny, do you know that? please tell me you don't, i want to have this fact to myself."
lan wangji flushes in seconds. "nonsense."

they eat. wei ying somehow has both bunnies pillowed on his lap while they're at it.
it feels like home.
"all that's missing is a little one," wei ying says so quietly while he's doing dishes he thinks lan wangji won't hear him through the running water.
two weeks.

wei ying wears a-yuan down by chasing him on the weary playground the orphanage has to offer. it's mostly slides, late march puddles gathering under the edge of the tunnels still touched with frost. a-yuan's screeching can be heard from another street. it sounds magnificent.

by lunch time, a-yuan is in lan wangji's arms, rubbing at his eyes and yawning minutely. somehow, wei ying has agreed it with the staff for them to let a-yuan sleep on them in the meeting room.
lan wangji hands him the boy and takes the coats off of them all, boots off a-yuan.

lan wangji hears a phone buzzing – wei ying’s. it’s on vibration somewhere in his back pocket. lan wangji inclines his head, and hopes it means ‘pass me a-yuan and answer’ and not ‘i can get your phone from the back pocket of my jeans.’ he’s not sure wei ying got either.

“later,” wei ying mouths to him, and lan wangji realises that his phone is now vibrating, too. wei ying nods to the door, whispers, “maybe it’s about the process,” and lan wangji’s heart pitches low. it may be a coincidence, but.
he nods, and stand up.

the number is indeed one of the many the adoption process has made him save.
he breathes in, out. whatever the decision is, he - they - will figure it out. a-yuan will be home anyway. which home doesn't matter.
"hello."

wei ying meets him with a poorly concealed worry in his eyes.
"yours?" he whispers, running his hands up and down a-yuan's side.
lan wangji swallows thickly. "it was about his popo. she died in the morning. he's no longer foster-to-adopt. full adoption as of now."

"oh," wei ying says in full volume, and a-yuan stirs. "oh, no," wei ying says, even louder.
a-yuan frowns at him, still very sleepy. "ying-gege?" he mumbles, "why not bed?"
"oh, little one," wei ying says, and turns to lan zhan, like he knows what to do. "i'm so, so sorry."

a-yuan cries quietly in lan zhan's arms, hiding his face in his neck, for the better part of an hour, until he hiccups and then dozes off again. lan zhan walks with him around the room, wei ying follows them, holding a-yuan's socked foot. they both sing an old lullaby to a-yuan.

"where are you going?" lan wangji whispers, watching wei ying throwing lan wangji's coat on instead of his own. he doesn't seem to realise that.
"i'm getting him home at any cost, tonight," wei ying says, the calmest lan wangji's ever heard him. "i don't care."

"wei ying," lan wangji calls, desperate, scared to death of becoming a single dad in the matter of hours. he doesn't know how prisons work. he doesn't know if children are allowed there to visit their parents. "please, be careful."

wei ying fishes out the car keys from the pocket of his coat, strides up to them, kisses a-yuan's on the cheek, then leans in and, without a second's hesitation, kisses lan wangji's.
"i'm getting us home, lan zhan, you better have his cot ready."
"i do," lan wangji swears.

"good. you're cooking dinner, i'll feed the rabbits."
wei ying looks at a-yuan once more, then at lan wangji, then decides something else entirely again, judging by the look on his face, and kisses lan wangji on the lips, quick and light.

lan wangji chases the feeling as wei ying pulls away and runs out of the room, and if wei ying thinks his wheeze went unnoticed, lan wangji will let him believe that. his own wheeze is witnessed only by the luck-bringing sofa and the wonky chairs and broken crayons.

lan wangji glares at the staff who try to come in and take a-yuan away, try to reason with him, and only asks to bring the boy's dinner in.
it's dark out. lan wangji realises his phone is in the pocket of the coat wei ying is wearing. wei ying's own is here, but it's locked.

he doesn't even have wei ying's number.
a-yuan is bleary and out of it even a few hours after he woke up, but lan wangji feeds him dinner like he was born for it. a-yuan can eat himself, and yet spooning congee makes lan wangji want to go and back up wei ying.

it's eight o'clock and the director of the orphanage tells lan wangji from the other side of the room that if he doesn't release the child now, he's calling the police.
lan wangji knows it's done when he hears the front door slam open and a scream of his birth name.

"he's yours!" wei ying shouts from the corridor, wrangling with people in there, probably brandishing the papers at them. "take him home right the fuck now! a-yuan! you're going home!"
home.
a-yuan looks up from the carpet, where he's been racing cars. "home?"

lan wangji takes hoists the boy up into his arms, an effortless movement after everything. he bounces a-yuan on his hip just as wei ying bursts through the door, coatless and red in the face, grinning from ear to ear.
"do you want to go home with us?" lan wangji asks a-yuan.

a-yuan chews on his bottom lip for what feels like an eternity.
"now?"
"yes, little one, now," wei ying wheezes from the door. "now and forever. you, lan zhan, and me. sounds good?"
a-yuan turns to him, then, eyes huge. "forever? no meeting room?"

"no, only your room," lan wangji says, flicking the boy's nose. "you have a whole room with toys and a carpet for your cars. and real bunnies. we can get fish, if you want."
"a whale?" a-yuan asks.
wei ying makes a sound eerily close to choking.
"maybe, little one. let's go."

there's a child car seat in the boot of wei ying's car, which wei ying looks mildly apologetic about, and says, "i bought it the first day." lan wangji nods. he'd bought everything on the first day, not just a car seat.
a-yuan is fine in the car, awake and curious.

he likes the car. he likes the apartment building, into which he steps holding both lan wangji's and wei ying's hands. he likes his room very much, and asks to see the bunnies.
"they are asleep," lan wangji says. "in the morning, you will play with them. promise."

wei ying bathes a-yuan, while lan wangji tries to cook dinner for the two of them. he's not hungry, but wei ying must be. his hands tremble as he tries to chop anything. lan wangji puts the knife down and orders takeaway.
his head is heavy and droning. it doesn't feel real.

a-yuan, overwhelmed and exhausted from everything, falls asleep while they wrestle him into his brand new bunny-print pjs. wei ying looks feral. lan wangji doesn't think he looks any better.
they sit on the kitchen floor, waiting for the wakeaway, and say nothing for a while.

"how," lan wangji asks finally, in order to know if he needs to pack anything for the prison. there's probably lists online.
"i called my brother," wei ying says, scratching at the tiles on the floor.
"you have a brother?"
"and a sister. if i called her, i'd be worse."

"i have a brother," lan wangji says, studying the uderside of the dinner table. there's a random cobweb. "if i called him, i think a-yuan would've already had my last name."
"we should've called our brothers two weeks ago. we're stupid, lan zhan."
"mn."

lan wangji, unlike wei ying, stays awake to get the takeaway, and puts it straight into the fridge, tugging wei ying off the floor into the bedroom. it's barely eleven. he doesn't remember what year it is.
wei ying doesn't protest, shedding clothes on the way.

with wei ying tucked safely into his side, lan wangji asks, "will you marry me? in the morning." and kisses wei ying's shoulder as an afterthought.
"mmmhg," wei ying says into the pillow, no more awake than lan wangji.
"what?"
"i said, your ring is in the pocket of my coat."

"that's why you took mine?"
"mmmmnnh."
"i didn't check your coat, wei ying."
"stupid."
"i know. i love you."
"love you. sleep."

in the morning, they call xichen-ge. a few hours later, a-yuan has two dads and two more bunnies.

notes:
- they all go to wen-popo's funeral.
- they do get an aquarium.
- they adopt a-yuan's best friend, a-yi, a month later, because they call yanli-jie.
- they adopt a girl three years after that.

the end! thank you for bearing with me for eleven fucking hours 🤣