#Well now my brain is fried and it's late so I'm not gonna reply any more tonight

[garrettandoscargirlsblog]

Never Letting You Go Ch9

Summary: Here it is! Another chapter. Lots of stuff happening. Drama, tears ,and new characters!! Cant tell who they are! Hope yall enjoy! since its late my brain is fried to type a proper summary!

Look in William's blue eyes tells everyone in the room he is serious. Santi nods as he goes to pack. That doesnt go well with you. How can he just leave you like that! Need both of them here! Wailed," I need you here! Not going off to be a hero! Will can go alone! Seems like there is some kind of danger. You leave! Can you for once stay put!" Kneeling down in front of your now sitting form. Took your hands into his large ones," I have to baby. Not like before. Want to keep you safe. Have to do this. Not gonna be like before. Have.." Not wanting to hear any of this. Pushed him down rushed into the bathroom. Locked the door. Benny rushed over. Knocking on the door," Baby girl, it's me. Not gonna be alone. I'm here. Never gonna leave ya. Have alot of people in your corner. Remember? Part of a large family now. Come out so I can hold ya in my arms. Pope too. Even ya are pissed at him. If ya like? I can try to reason with him." Listening to what he said was true. You're not alone. At this time you need your husbands. Want to be selfish. Can't Santi see where you are coming from? Want some distraction for your mental trauma.

Gemma arrives to her former home. Looking around. Things look different. House looks modern. From paint to the fixtures. Even the courtyard. Black gates that lead upstairs to your room. Close her eyes and remember the good times. Where you used to play outside. Diane SWlooks out of her kitchen window. Being unterly pissed off. She goes outside yelling," Better get off of my property if you know what's good for your sorry ass. Oh forgot. Ya don't. " Gemma had enough of this. Goes over to Diane ready to fight," Gonna fight me wimp? Ya never can throw a punch to save your life. Such a nice oh so proper girl. Raised to not to fight." Diane had enough. Not much a word from Gemma. Diane slugs her in the face. Knocked her down," Ya were saying? I do know how to hit. Thank my sons for that. Consider that a warning. Now go!" Got up to rub her jaw as she stands up again," oh you want to go down that road? Bring it on!" Shouts coming from outside caused Jack to rush outside . Pulling his wife out of the way. Grunting," Enough! Ya better leave if ya know what is good for ya! This is a private property. Means the house ya called home is mine. Now leave!" Gemma leaves not before yelling" I'll find her! Mark my words! I fucking will!"

An unknown car parked not far from the property. Saw everything that transpired. Took a few pics of Gemm's truck. On the phone. The person replies," Fugitive has been spotted. Call back when I have more to report "

Meanwhile You haven't come out of the bathroom. Others were at wits end on what to do. Shouts from both Will and Santi exorcited, causing Benny to let out a mighty yell, " All of this yellin isn't helping matters! We have a fragile soul in that room that's scared shitless.Which is now our mission to get her out of there. I'm the one to do it." Santi rolls his eyes as he plops into his old, smelly chair. Not wanting to hear that Benny knows you longer than he does. Has more experience in his young age. Will stands next to his friend. Patting the chair," Don't let it get to you man. Sure you have a bond with Sunshine. Something rather special. I remember the story ya told me. This situation is so delicate. Let Benny do his thing.

Benny did his best to finally let him inside the bathroom. Site of your fragile form made him breakdown ,and cry. Hair all wet and mangled from the tears. Practically shaking from all of the crying. All there was to do was lay your head on Benny's lap. All he could do is send some much needed comfort. Rubs your back," Shhhh… baby girl. I'm here. Let me take care of ya okay?" Sniffling at his reply caused you to cry again," All I need is you to hold me baby boy. Can't… go .. out there.. you know… Santi would leave me…."

Benny knows that too.That is how Santi is. Wants to save the day. Protect his family. Hope his brother can talk him out of it. Sounds of your wimper caught his attention again. Looking down to see his fragile baby girl asleep . What he did was to get up,but not to cause you to wake up. Kissed your still damp forehead,” I got ya darlin. No need to worry. Just rest “

" So what's the plan Ironhead? Go over there. Follow her till she screws the hell up?" Santi at this point getting back to his old habit. Not thinking things through. All he wants is to protect his precious Sunshine from a woman he has never met. Does he want to? Will sits on the edge of the messy bed. Rubbing his bearded chin," No, just the opposite. Recon first. Then.. visit the police. Not wanting a fucking repeat of Columbia man! My baby sister is crying on the fucking floor crying all because her husband wants to leave her! I know you want to go ,and play the hero. Not this time okay? Matter of fact. I know a certain sheriff that might help."

Sounds of the door opening caused both men to look at Benny holding you close to him. Santi was ready to rush over to them,but was met by Benny shaking his head,” Not a good idea okay? She needs to rest. Thinkin she might not be ready to see ya .” Santi didn't listen to him. Goes over to rub his finger against your cheek. Taking a deep breath,” Breaks my heart to see her like this… wish … she understands why I have to do this.” Benny lays you down. Covering your body with the blanket that contains both of their soothing scents for comfort. Closed the door . While they can talk downstairs.

Hanna arrived at the Millers . Thought about how long it had been since she was here . Too long. Last time it was for a get together with her parents. Before her mother left. Oh how she missed her. So does her dad. Which doesn't say much. Right now is to chat with the Millers about the run in with Gemma. Jack sees her right before knocking on the door,” Come on in honey. Sit down while I go ,and fetch Diane.” She looked around to see some recent pictures of her friends, Will ,and Benny. Both of them look so happy. Good for them. Sounds of footsteps caused her to shake her head. Diane hugs her,” So happy to see ya hun. I take you have some info to share. “ Clearing her throat as she sits down,” Yes I do. My father wanted to come over,but a situation came up. Seems like this woman in question is wanted for killing a FBI agent in California. Also involved with a bad group of bikers. They deal with illegal gun activities. I'm here to offer y'all some protection. “ The couple wasn't a bit surprised. Gemma was always a bit wild. Even before her husband left. She cheated on him. Just like he cheated on her.

“ So let me get this straight. Will your goin home to do recon alone! Are you nuts?! What would happen if there was a situation ya cant get out of!” Will rolled his eyes. Benny wasn't really listening to the plan . Took a breath,” I'm not going alone. As much as I want Pope to come . Gonna ask Fish to tag along. I know Pope. You want to go. Have to stay. “ Santi nods,” I agree now I see where you are coming from. Still we need another person to help “

Will was about to answer his question when his phone rings. Accepted the call to see who it was. His cousin , Jake Mills.

[guqin-and-flute]

3zun Niebraid concept: JGY who knows exactly what each minor detail in these braids means bc he was part of the sect and memorized everything bc he's just like. that. but never thought he'd ever be allowed any further than wearing the standard disciple braids. Vs LXC who doesn't know that much about them but has been doing NMJs braids since they were young and occasionally got his own hair braided which was nice. And Apparently that was considered flirting which he learns from JGYs reaction

[I LOVE THIS. DAMN this was supposed to be a short oneshot (hahahaaa, when has that ever happened) about just Nie braids, but it turned into...this. It fits perfectly into 3zun Raise Jingyi AU though there’s nothing that specifically hinders you from reading it as unaligned from that. Set before the NieYao Schism, sometime within the 6 months WWX was at Lan Summer School, perhaps a month or two after 3zun have gotten together (which I will also eventually have sometime).

EDIT: I FORGOT TO PUT THIS IN THE FIRST TIME--Heavily influenced by the fic Triple Crown by scarlet_gryphon which I read, like, directly before this. Go read it, it’s so sweet!]

[3zun Raise Jingyi Au Tag] [Ao3 Series] [Ao3 Link]

Xichen had by no means ever considered himself the most rigid or pedantic Lan, but he would certainly never have described himself as salacious. And yet, the sudden rigidity in A-Yao’s smile and the way his eyes darted about the empty corridor makes it seem that the playful tug that he had just given the man’s braid was akin to goosing him in full view of the Nie Council of Elders. His ears were now a lovely pink at the tips--but this was now secondary to what on earth Xichen had just done to his and Mingjue’s new partner. 

Instantly, he drew back his hand, tucking it behind him at the small of his back in contrition. “A-Yao? What’s wrong?”

With nothing but the stymied duck of his chin, A-Yao conveyed the depth of his embarrassment, both at whatever Xichen had done and his own reaction. “Nothing at all, Lan-zongzhu.”

“Now, I don’t believe that. Was I too--did I hurt you?” He chanced to flick his finger illustratively toward his hairstyle before firmly confining it behind himself again. 

“Of course not.” He was smiling, if slightly stiffly, eyes flicking up and down the corridor once more. Checking for people.

“I’ve embarrassed you,” Xichen murmured in dismay, careful to keep his tone from carrying. “I apologize.”

“No, you--” He broke himself off with a sigh and with one more glance around, then led him with the tilt of his chin out a door set into an adjacent wall to the courtyard beyond. “Here.” 

It was a beautiful little garden Xichen had often seen in passing, but never had the occasion to visit. Most of it was shaded by the high walls at this time of day, with a slice of slowly disappearing sunlight that left it cool and verdant, mid-summer flowers rich and bright dotting about. Vines crawled up behind the stone bench set in the corner. Behind him, A-Yao closed and latched the door, then he turned, paused, then shyly reached out and took Xichen’s hand in his. With it, he led them both to sit on that bench, carved into the blunt cornered, slightly geometric patterns, that familiar the Qinghe style. This closeness eased the uncertain knot under his breastbone, the held breath that he had somehow offended or endangered A-Yao by this playful slip. This lush little courtyard had no windows leading onto it and only the one door, so the danger of being seen by anyone who wasn’t leaping about on the rooftops was negligible. 

“And so what have I done, A-Yao, that’s made you blush like this,” Xichen asked quietly once they had settled next to each other, lifting his hand to trace the shell of his still pink ear. “I really do apologize,” he added, a little woefully. “Please let me know if I ever go too far.” 

His touch spread the pink a little farther, onto the tops of his delightful cheekbones and that absurd and giddy joy that he got so often now-a-days whenever he saw A-Yao or watched him with Mingjue or caught a secret expression or--

Firmly he quashed his love-stricken brain and prepared to listen. This thing between them, the two of them, the three of them was still relatively new, mere months old and shaky--not unsteady, but instead like learning new footwork and Xichen would hate to jeopardize any of it.

A-Yao shook his head, smile less plastic and more apologetic. “It wasn’t truly too far, ge, I just...I simply used to a little more, ah, discretion. I suppose I would call it.”

Discretion. Yes, discretion was important, it was what they had promised each other in this, together. 

But certainly...in an unpeopled corridor, the innocent tease was not something that would overtly make anyone think they were anything more than agemates being playful? Well. He had never been very close to any of his Lan agemates and then, the Lan were quite strict about personal space. Perhaps he had somehow misread the more jovial, jostling air of the Nie? Certainly they punched arms, headlocked each other on the practice ground, laid hands on shoulders. Mingjue had never shied away from arms length, with him or any of his similar aged disciples. Xichen tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I should avoid touching you in public, then,” he clarified.

“I wouldn’t say so--no more or less than you might Huaisang or Mingjue-ge, I would think. Just...” he gestured in what was obviously supposed to be an eloquent and encompassing circle about his own head. 

Ah. Ah? His hair, yes? “Just not your hair,” he supplied, helpfully.

A-Yao flickered his eyes over Xichen’s politely inquiring face and they narrowed infinitesimally, calculating something. “Well, yes; at least, certainly the braids,” he replied, almost carefully, as if leading Xichen somewhere.

Xichen was happy to follow him down any path of logic, but this one seemed somewhat...undefined to him. He had braided Mingjue’s hair uncountable times in their youth, after swimming or bathing after training or, later, sex. There had even been several times Mingjue had returned the favor and done his hair in an elaborate series of sweeping, looping, coiled braids that pleased Xichen’s eye to see paired with the stark white of his headband. Of course he understood that playing with each other’s hair wasn’t something you would just go up to any stranger and initiate, but Mingjue had never given him reason to think that it was somehow off limits. 

The first time that they had met, when Mingjue’s parents had come to talk with Uncle and himself, they had wandered alone through the bamboo forest in the Cloud Recesses, talking and climbing rocks. They were both around 10 or 11 and Xichen had been fascinated by the intricate weavings on the older boy’s head. Sometime in the afternoon, after Mingjue had proven all day to be intelligent, easy going, and hard to offend, Xichen had mustered up the courage to chance impertinence to ask; “Can I touch them?” 

Mingjue had blinked back up at him from where he crouched by the burbling stream they had found. “Touch what?”

“Your braids, I--they just look.... I’m sorry, I suppose that’s quite rude.” He made to bow in apology, but Mingjue had just scrambled to his feet and drawn closer, eyes bright as he grinned. 

“Yeah, go ahead, it’s fine.” 

He had been half a head shorter than Xichen at the time, who had started to shoot up like bamboo at an alarming rate earlier that spring, even though Mingjue was a year and some older. It had given him a fine view of the braids’ detail without Mingjue even having to bow his head to let him tentatively stroke along the little beads each segment made. They had been warm from the sun and smooth, like the flank of some tiny, well groomed animal. “They’re very regal,” he had assured the other clan’s heir when he had studied his fill, earning himself another flash of teeth in his tanned face. 

“Thank you.”

But just because Mingjue had been unbothered didn’t mean that A-Yao would be. He hadn’t even grown up Nie and he certainly wasn’t going to demand rigorous explanations to any boundaries A-Yao might try to set down. What surer way to scare the man off? He had seen exactly how difficult it was to make him do anything but grin and bear whatever he thought that he should have to endure stoically in any situation. Getting him to reveal them any sort of 'want’--in bed or socially--was already a nightmare. “Ah, I see, now.”

“You do,” A-Yao nodded, tone seeking firmness in question.

“Well, if you say I shouldn’t, then I shouldn’t.” Xichen aimed for serene but was afraid he simply managed benignly baffled. “What more is there to understand? I never want to make you uncomfortable, A-Yao, that much I hope is clear.”

Seeming momentarily speechless, A-Yao searched his face with a growing, puzzled frown. “I apologize sincerely if this comes across as anything close to patronizing, ge, but...you do know what touching another’s braids means, correct?”

His tone was borderline apologetic, and so nowhere near patronizing. Xichen, however, was now solidifying his suspicion that there was something of cultural significance that he had just blundered right through, like a certain Jiang disciple currently causing his Uncle ulcers back in Gusu. It was an unpleasant feeling, as being savvy and diplomatic were not just things he prided himself on, but necessary for his position as Clan Leader. Being caught out being tactless was....uncomfortable. “I’m beginning to believe that I do not.”

Strangely, this seemed to set A-Yao more at ease, that careful way he had been holding his shoulders relaxing, even as his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “Oh. I see. Ah,” his gaze flitted about on his face, absorbing his obvious disquiet. “It’s just that, among the Nie, their braids are more than simply just decoration--they can denote status, official rank, life stage, and--” he paused only momentarily, eyes drinking in his reaction. “Availability. Touching another’s braids is an intimate gesture.”

Staring almost fixedly into the middle distance, invisible beyond A-Yao’s face as he absorbed this, Xichen noted with chagrin that this last sounded very like the strictures surrounding the Lan headbands. Very like. Had he been repeatedly stomping all over such a sacred border since he was 10? “Ah,” he stated, voice carefully controlled and neutral. And said no more.

“...Ge?” A-Yao sounded as if his silence was making him wary. 

“I was not aware,” he managed, somewhat distantly as he frantically searched his memory for times he might have done something similar to Mingjue in view of any Nie. Or, good gods, to Huaisang. He hoped he would have noticed what an uncomfortable reaction that would have surely gained him. Should he think to apologize to the boy if it ever happened or would that make it more uncomfortable? Mortification was spreading hot up his neck to his ears, though his face remained impassive. He hoped.

Probably not, for A-Yao was beginning to look dismayed, “I never meant to embarrass you, I’m sorry--”

“No, no, I definitely would prefer to know such things.” Mingjue, he added forcefully, silently.

"Has Mingjue-ge never told you?”

“He...has not, no.”

“Well, I doubt he would have just let you send such a message publicly, here, being as discrete as you have both been, so I wouldn’t let it trouble you.” He was clearly trying to soothe him, his hand petting over the backs of Xichen’s own. “And I’m not upset, gege. It was a misstep, you didn’t know.”

“Just...how intimate a gesture is it?” Had he inadvertently propositioned Mingjue on their very first meeting? Proposed? What had his partner thought of him at the time? Exasperation was now making its way through the dismay and horror, slightly prickly. Just what sort of fool have you allowed me to make of myself, my love? 

“Parents and siblings are allowed, and vice versa, though touching your parents braids past a certain age is frowned upon. Among adolescent agemates of no relation? Flirting. Like...a kiss on the cheek or a solid declaration of interest. It’s a little more lax among people of your same sex if you are particularly close friends, but it’s still not something that you do in public. It’s considered a little lewd.”

Lewd. The flush had reached his ears, he was certain, for they burned. No wonder A-Yao had nearly jumped out of his skin when he just reached out and tugged his braid in greeting. It was like goosing him in front of the Nie Council of Elders. “Ah,” he replied faintly. “I’m...terribly sorry for having startled you like that. With that. I never--”

“It probably wouldn’t be taken so seriously,” A-Yao hastened to assure him, clearly desperately sorry for his obvious humiliation. “You’re not Nie, after all. They might just assume that you’re....”

“An idiot?” Xichen supplied, somewhat dryly, as A-Yao trailed off and shut his mouth.

“No,” he returned to his sentence doggedly. “Unaware.”

“Oh,” Xichen breathed. “I was certainly unaware.”

After a few moments of silence, A-Yao noted, “You’re angry,” with something like trepidation, round eyes searching him, face cautious.

“I’m...not.” And he wasn’t. Not really. Not truly. Shocked. Embarrassed. Mm, annoyed at potentially have been making a rude, lewd, lecherous fool of himself for years, Mingjue. 

And now, come to think of it, the harder he thought and the more connections he had made, he recalled that Mingjue had only braided Xichen’s hair when they were spending the night together. Unlikely to be interrupted until he would take another bath and have had them undone. And just what exactly had that particular configuration meant, performed to an unseeing, uncomprehending audience?

Oh, he was certainly going to find out.

“I think, perhaps, a conversation is in order.”

A-Yao was trailing him with something like dread in the tread of his step, back straight as Xichen stalked--walked, he walked--through the paths of Unclean Realm to their joint partner’s office. He knocked, 2 smart and crisp raps with the back of his knuckle. Beside him, A-Yao winced slightly, so he shot him a reassuring smile, which seemed to do nothing of the sort. “Enter,” Mingjue’s distracted voice came from within.

Xichen did so, keeping his movements smooth and measured, now, since seeing A-Yao’s distress. Truly, he wasn’t looking for a fight, he simply wanted an explanation. “Good afternoon, Mingjue-xiong.”

Mingjue squinted up from his papers at him, brows beetled, face suspicious. “What, what happened?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re being...strange.” He cast a questioning look behind him at A-Yao, but Xichen couldn’t see his reaction without turning and he didn’t want to put A-Yao on the spot.

“Not strange. I’ve simply learned something.” As he spoke, he found himself studying Mingjue’s braids, the twisted coil, raising and grounding the large circular guan he habitually wore. The two trailing, adorned with metal circles, behind his ears. And what did this style mean? Clan Leader Nie, most likely. He tried, briefly, to recall if the previous Clan Leader Nie, Mingjue’s father, had worn an identical or similar style and found that it wasn’t something that he had every paid much attention to, while he had known him. “Is there a reason you’ve never informed me of the significance of the Nie braids?”

At this, Mingjue blinked, much like he had that first day that Xichen had asked to touch them, then sat back away from his desk, legs unfurling out from under his proper posture to cross under him, as his arms were doing across his broad chest. “Nie braids?” He shot another searching look at A-Yao, not angry or accusing, but one of confusion. “In what capacity?”

This time, Xichen also looked at A-Yao, but put his hand settlingly on his shoulder, as the man was beginning to look somewhat hunted. “In the capacity of intimacy,” Xichen said, trying to keep the emphasis he felt from stressing the word, and therefore his partners. 

“Intimacy,” Mingjue grunted, unhelpfully, rubbing at his chin. 

“I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything,” A-Yao insisted, a strained smile in place on his face, now. “Either of you. I simply thought that you had known, Lan-zongzhu.”

“Oh, I’ve told you, please don’t, A-Yao, none of that here with us,” Xichen sighed, waving the title away as if it were an annoying gnat. “No one’s in trouble.” Yet, remained unspoken as he pointedly did not raise a reproachful eyebrow at Mingjue, who was staring into space, thoughtfully. “The braids.” He repeated. Helpfully. Steering.

Mingjue finally met his eyes. Then shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Pardon him, but Xichen found that a little galling, so he let his exasperation seep into his voice, just a bit, when he replied, “How on earth could I have known, Mingjue? Who else would have told me of this particularity?” It's not as if the Nie had an exhaustive list of their rules displayed anywhere.

“Hmm.” Without responding further, Mingjue closed his eyes and rubbed his face. Clearly, he was tired, having been cooped up here all day, reading correspondence and doing paperwork, all of which he found difficult and hated. Xichen softened.

“So it wasn’t something you were keeping from me for some reason.”

The look he received when Mingjue took away his hands again was crinkled disbelief and slight affront. “Why the hell would I do that?”

With a sigh, Xichen finally drew closer, allowing himself to settle onto one of the cushions in front of his desk with something a little looser than grace, setting his elbow down and leaning on it in studied ease. “It’s what I had wondered. I don’t know. Making a fool of me for some sort of,” he circled his other hand, searching for the word. “Secret kink seemed...unlikely.”

With a snort, Mingjue folded his arms up again and shook his head. “No. It’s just...not something I really thought about. Not something you had to worry about. I don’t know. Why, did something happen with it?” He then looked up at A-Yao and the tired set to his eyebrows relaxed as Xichen had against them. “Come sit, you look scared stiff. I suppose this is our first...whatever this is.”

“Complication? It’s certainly not an argument,” Xichen murmured, reaching a hand out for A-Yao, who was slowly starting forward, eyes still darting between the two of them.

“Sure.” Mingjue vented a short, mirthless chuckle. “Complication. Here, here,” he reached out his own hand and A-Yao carefully took it, his other hand in Xichen’s as he slowly knelt on the cushion Xichen leaned over to place for him on the short edge of the desk they were nearest to. “You look like you’re going to bolt or something. What?”

“I didn’t mean to cause a problem,” A-Yao replied, lowly, face unbearably serious, chin tucked slightly.

He was doing that subtle, shrinking, ‘don’t look at me, don’t hurt me’ thing that broke Xichen. So he drew A-Yao’s hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles with a smile. It drew A-Yao’s attention to him, so he beamed as much love and assurance through his eyes as he could. His knuckles were smooth under Xichen’s lips. “You didn’t cause a problem. Indeed, you fixed it. How would it have looked if Lan-zongzhu was going around brazenly flirting with his ally’s vice general? Or his fellow zongzhu? Or, gods forbid--” he shot a raised eyebrow at last at Mingjue. “His fellow zongzhu’s didi?” 

And at last, Mingjue did screw up his face in a grimace, perhaps of mild regret, though he offered no further enlightenment. His thumb rubbed absently on the back of A-Yao’s hand. Xichen reached out and took Mingjue’s free hand, lifting it to his lips as well, so both of them were there, side by side--one slightly broader, rougher, hotter, and the other slim but no less strong, and cool, each occupying opposite corners of his mouth. “And so tell me, gege,” he added, playfully now as he set them both down in front of him, squeezing possessively. “What exactly those styles you did me up in meant?” Hopefully further teasing would make A-Yao more at ease that one or the other of them weren’t about to suddenly explode at him.

“Hm?”

“Back on those long nights alone.”

A-Yao’s eyebrows raised in his periphery, pale, curious face turning to Mingjue like a flower. Good. 

“Ah,” Mingjue said, then jutted his jaw to the side, as if mulling something over. Then, he quirked a small, private smile and shrugged, as if discarding embarrassment. “Consort’s braids.”

Good gods, could love kick one in the head like a horse? Xichen felt dazed. “Oh.” His fingers tightened, on both sides as he desperately tried to recall the scaffolding of loops and dips, the hidden declaration of love that these had meant before he had ever thought to look for them. Sadly, all he could bring to mind was that they had taken a while and had left his hair delightfully wiggly when they were, ah, jostled during sex. “Oh,” he breathed again, strangely at a loss for words.

Mingjue was watching whatever play across his face with interest. “Do you remember them?”

“Sadly, I do not.”

“Hmm.” Mingjue eyed A-Yao with deliberation. “I’ll show you. Come here,” he said this last to A-Yao alone, releasing both their hands and scooting back onto his knees, his desk cushion now empty in front of him. He slapped it with his palm.

A-Yao did not move, instead holding up slighly warding hands, a gracious smile on his face. “Ge, I think you’d better show him on his own head, don’t you?” A-Yao tried to politely demur, but, love of his life--at least one of them--Mingjue would not let him.

“No, I want to do it on yours.” 

In the silence following this statement, Xichen covertly watched A-Yao’s face. Would he...? Oh yes. Oh yes, he had understood that. His eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in rare shock. That sweet pink blush was back, warming his ears, his cheeks. Mingjue was never as covert as he was overt and this hadn’t been anywhere near the most blatant admission of either of their intentions with their lovely, intelligent, courteous, graceful, diligent, hardworking partner. But it seemed to be one that he believed, immediately. Finally. “What a lovely idea,” Xichen purred in encouragement, making A-Yao look to him again, rather helplessly, now, he thought.

Slowly, A-Yao stood from his seat, as if a little dazed, and sat quietly where he was bade, curling up his knees to his chest and circling his arms around them. Mingjue rose up on his own knees behind him and began to industriously, yet not ungently, undo the hairstyle that was already there. With each tug, A-Yao rocked minutely, his chin rested in the circle of his arms. Xichen came around to watch over Mingjue’s shoulder with genuine interest as his fingers quickly flicked apart the thin braids, then combed through the dark fall spread across A-Yao’s back, freed from his modest silver guan. Curiously, his own hand came out and stroked down the hair, marveling in the little rivulets of waves coursing through the rest of the straight cascade, tiny delights of sensation. He felt A-Yao shiver, just slightly, under their combined touch in his hair. 

Though he wanted to see the what and how of this particular style--and oh, did he ever want to--A-Yao’s clear uncertainty took precedence here, and so he kindly chivvied A-Yao’s knees down and laid himself down to settle his head own head across his partner’s lap. From this angle, he could see A-Yao’s sweet, clean features above him like the moon in the sky, and beyond him, Mingjue’s strong, beloved face, intent in concentration. The moon and the sun, if he allowed himself to be poetic. And he would. The lights of his life, Mingjue vigorous and vital, strong and golden. A-Yao subtle and mysterious, deep and sweet. Fallen in love with them in different times, in different ways, but each an illuminating, reassuring presence in his life. 

Reaching up, he smoothed his palm onto A-Yao’s cheek, trying to stimulate something of a smile there, and was rewarded by the quirk of his lip, a dimple pressing in underneath the base of his thumb. He smiled in return. “Good?” he mouthed, soundlessly.

A-Yao nodded almost insignificantly against his hand, clearly trying not to jerk his hair from Mingjue’s grip. They allowed silence, then, between them, Mingjue braiding, A-Yao swaying easily when his hair tugged him this way or that, Xichen drinking in their presence below them. Then, A-Yao lifted his own hands and laid them on Xichen’s guan, questioning. He beamed up at him.

It slid from his hair with relative ease once the pin was released--he was glad that he had chosen one of his his smaller, more curved headpieces today instead of the one with spikey, draconic crags. He wouldn’t have been able to comfortably lie on A-Yao’s lap with its point digging into his scalp. To assist, he tensed his core and lifted himself up, slightly, sweeping the length of his hair up with his hands so it no longer lay partially under him, but billowed across A-Yao’s whole lap, then rested his head now on only his closer leg, so he had more room to work. His lover’s hands hovered, uncertain, over this fall of hair. “Ge, it will be...difficult to avoid touching your headband in this.”

Ah, so uncertain of the coil that threaded through it, like an underground river, sometimes surfacing in a surge of bright white. “Then do not avoid it.”

Looking partially stricken, partially amazed, A-Yao peered back down at his face. “But that’s--”

“Yes?” Xichen answered tranquilly, smiling up at him.

“I know what it means,” A-Yao pointed out, voice, if anything, sounding slightly admonishing, almost peevish, as if he expected Xichen of trying to catch him out unawares like Mingjue had inadvertently done to him all these years. “To the Lan, I mean. I’ve researched all the Clans.”

And so Xichen stopped teasing, stopped the slide into mischief. He let his face soften, his brow loosen, his eyes warm. Taking A-Yao’s hand, he brought it up to kiss its fingertips, then rest it against his chest, over his heart, beating along solidly beneath their pressed palms. With his other, he stroked A-Yao’s lovely face; his lovely, uncertain, disbelieving face. How many times must I tell you? How many times must we prove that we mean what we say? How many more months can I make love to you and tell you and tell you that, in a better world, in a kinder world, without fear and shame and duty....

“I know. I know you know. And I am saying, A-Yao; you need not avoid it.” These last words were quiet and low, thrumming in his chest along with his heart. 

A proposal, in as many words as he knew how. As Mingjue’s had been.

Above him, A-Yao stopped breathing.

It made an ache, low in his chest, right at the joining of his ribs, to know that, eventually, his and Mingjue’s duty would rise up to bite their heels, restrain their limbs, fit them into a specific mold. It had been discussed, it was known, by all of them, this finality. The understanding was that, while this lasted, this would be as real and true as they could make it--but none of them were deluded. When the time came, when their duties as men and Clan Leaders called, none of them would begrudge another what was necessary. Their hearts, free of their bodies, would have chosen follow one another.

But they were not free. From their bodies or otherwise.

There was an end to this. There was a day coming, and who knew how distant with all of them already being of an age to be married, when they would have to leave each other’s arms and beds for the last time. It was the understanding that had rested between him and Mingjue for years, laying in the bed they sometimes shared along with them. And now it crowded in here with the three of them. But the courting was real, the intention and the wanting and the sharing was real.

His offer. Was real. 

As real as he could make it.

The ache had traveled up into the base of his throat, and he repressed it, holding it back from his eyes as he smiled up at A-Yao as soft as he knew how. Mingjue already knew, had already known--clearly. Now, A-Yao only had to accept.

Slowly, as if wondering, A-Yao’s hand lowered to rest just off from the crown of Xichen’s head. Still not touching the headband. Above him, Xichen caught that Mingjue’s hands had stilled, his eyes on them. Reaching up, Xichen dug his fingers back through his own hair and unraveled the same knot that he did up every morning and took down every night. The headband slid out easily from his hair with a tug.  A-Yao watched him avidly, dark eyes almost hungry. Xichen would feed that hunger while he still could, hold him while he was still able. Gaze locked on him, Xichen reached up and looped his headband around A-Yao’s wrist, once, twice, thrice, then secured it loosely, ends trailing down like ribbons. “There,” he said, quietly. He was going to continue with something oblique and coy, about it being out of the way, now, or that he needn’t worry about it, but it stuck in his throat like a lump, and he fell silent.

A-Yao’s hands came down, then, gently, lightly, to hold his face, expression unbearably tender. Xichen blinked, then blinked again as his eyes heated, then filled, most embarrassingly. He prided himself on control, this wasn’t....

A-Yao kissed him. He leaned down and kissed and kissed his mouth, deep and slow and thorough, and then, at some private thought, slightly sharp and frantic. Dazed, Xichen let him, kissed back as best he could, raising his hand to bury in his hair--his braids, the beginnings of the loops and ridges there already from Mingjue’s sure fingers. 

‘Yes.’

Unmistakably.

Then, with a shudder, A-Yao tore himself away, back, and up, and reached up to pull Mingjue down from behind him, the kiss he bestowed on him now bordering on desperate, but not with lust. Something else, more undefinable. Mingjue’s hands bracketed A-Yao’s chest, holding him steady, close and returned just as good as he got.

When they broke apart, rogue, unauthorized tears still prickled at the corners of Xichen’s eyes, and it seemed in A-Yao’s eyes too, but he closed them too quickly for Xichen to be completely sure. Neither of them mentioned it. Mingjue, however, gave a rather conspicuous, watery sniff, cleared his throat, and went back to braiding. It made Xichen smile, despite it all. Quietly, A-Yao set about braiding through Xichen’s hair as well, careful and kind to his scalp.

In the end, the consorts braids were indeed familiar. Looping, unisex, strong, they split in 3 back from the forehead, somehow woven into and not simply out of the hair there, cascading in complicated chains down. A-Yao looked gorgeous in them. Xichen wished he could wear them always.

“There would be a small ring, here and here, woven in,” Mingjue laid fingertips at each of A-Yao’s temples, just above his ears, voice contemplative and low. “But I don’t have them. And a guan at the back or a pin, depending on sex and preference.” 

A-Yao raised his hand from Xichen’s hair--the hand bound with Xichen’s headband--and felt tentatively over the beautiful twists there. When Mingjue produced a polished bronze mirror from his desk drawer, he studied it for a long time, face unreadable. Then, he smiled, softly. “I can envision it.”

That smile did much to soothe the ache in Xichen’s chest. Sitting up and twisting to snuggle in next to A-Yao instead of on him, he reached out to tilt the mirror toward himself, lowering his chin to see better. Two braids, drawing back from where his hair peaked on either side of his forehead drew back to coil at the back, where a guan would hold it in place. Odd to see on his own head, but he liked it. “And this?” he questioned with his own smile.

“Mm,” Mingjue hummed in recognition before A-Yao said anything. “Married man.”

Again, that love more like a battering ram than any gentle ocean swell. A yes. A yes, an emphatic yes. 

He smiled, perhaps a little crookedly, over at A-Yao, who was watching him keenly with his bright eyes. Leaning over, he kissed one of his eyebrows. “But this isn’t quite right,” A-Yao said, suddenly, eyes fastened on Xichen’s hair as he drew back and Mingjue hummed again, in agreement, this time.

“Ah yes, second Consort, then?” Xichen suggested, lightly. “First concubine?”

A-Yao snorted rather indelicately and Mingjue said, “I think not.”

Warm. Everywhere. “I think I’ll keep this one anyhow,” Xichen answered. “If just for tonight.”  After all, A-Yao had been the one to do it. Their A-Yao. 

While they all had each other.