#my friends please stop tempting me to flesh this verse out ohmygod

[sarah-yyy]

please say you're writing about wei ying's 18th birthday with lan zhan's painting!

“So many stupid paintings,” Lan Wangji hears Jiang Wanyin’s voice float across, just before he rounds the corner. He stills his footsteps. “Why did you have to be into art of all things? Start telling people you like more useful things, like weapons.”

“The paintings are for me, not for you,” Wei Wuxian says in response to that. “Why are you complaining?”

“Because I’m always the one helping you haul all of these back to your study, you idiot,” Jiang Wanyin snaps. “Are any of them expensive, at least?”

“They’re all expensive,” Wei Wuxian says airily. “Nobody makes a gift out of paintings that are worthless.”

“We should sell them then, and use the proceeds for more Emperor’s Smile,” Jiang Wanyin suggests, to Wei Wuxian’s clear delight. 

Lan Wangji’s fingers clench around the scroll in his hand, and tunes out the rest of the Jiang brothers’ conversation. 

Lan Wangji was foolish to have thought to paint Wei Wuxian something. He should have just gone with the usual, had one of his men pick something out for Wei Wuxian to gift on Lan Wangji’s behalf, but for some reason, it’d felt inadequate this year. 

Wei Wuxian is right. Nobody makes a gift out of something that is worthless. 

Lan Wangji’s painting will be just that to Wei Wuxian - worthless. 

If he gifts it to Wei Wuxian, will Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin ridicule him behind his back?

“Er-dianxia,” Lan Wangji’s servant says from behind him. “Will you still-”

Lan Wangji hands the scroll to his servant. “Keep it out of sight,” he says firmly, jaw clenched, and turns to walk away. 

When he next sees Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian beams at him, and says, “Er-dianxia, you came!” 

Lan Wangji nods. “Mn.” 

“I always look forward to your arrival, er-dianxia,” Wei Wuxian says, still smiling. “Which one is your gift? I’ll make a note to pay special attention to it.”

Lan Wangji glances at him. “I have not prepared a gift,” he tells Wei Wuxian cooly, and tries not to focus too much on the way Wei Wuxian’s face falls. “I was only reminded of your birthday banquet early this morning.” He dips his head in a semblance of an apology. “You are welcome to pick something out of my collection. I’ll have my men send it to you tomorrow.”

“That’s not necessary,” Wei Wuxian says. His smile is forced. “I hope you enjoy the banquet, er-dianxia,” he says quietly. 

If Lan Wangji notices that Wei Wuxian drinks more than he should that night at the banquet, he doesn’t pay mind to it.

(buy me a kofi! // more rebuttable presumption)