Chapter Text
“So? Guess who got knocked up?” Wei Ying practices asking his mirror. “No, terrible. ‘Guess I preggoed my eggo!’ Oh god, definitely not that. ‘I regret to inform you all that despite your hopes, I am, in fact, reproducing.’”
Wei Ying groans and thumps his head forward into the mirror, sliding it down until the top of his head is pressed against it and he’s staring at his stomach.
“This is all your fault,” He accuses. The app he’d downloaded onto his phone after approximately 17 at home pregnancy tests and one frantic visit to the health clinic says It’s the size of a blueberry, so he’s not sure that It quite understands the judgement Wei Ying is raining down on it.
Still, it feels good to place the blame squarely on someone else’s shoulders. Even if that someone doesn’t have shoulders yet. And is not, in fact, even really a someone at this point.
“I have an announcement,” Wei Ying says as soon as he sits down at a table at the spot not far off campus he’s meeting Jiang Cheng and Yanli for lunch.
“Oh god, you’re dropping out of grad school,” Jiang Cheng says, already looking like he’s about to work himself up to a proper fight over the mere thought of such a thing.
“What? No!” Wei Ying says, and then, “Wait, actually, I hadn’t thought about it,” because he hasn’t. Because his brain has been just a constant shrieking klaxon of PREGNANT!! PREGNANT!!!! PREGNANT!!!!! since he found out and he hasn’t even really considered anything else. “No,” He says finally, firmly, decisively, “I have way too much student loan debt to not get an extremely expensive fancy piece of paper out of this.”
“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says, and then, “Well, what’d you do then?”
“How dare you think this is something I did? My own brother-”
“Adopted-” Jiang Cheng interrupts, though it lacks any sting.
“Jiang Cheng,” Yanli scolds.
“-doesn’t trust me! What an outrage. What an insult. What horror,” Wei Ying clutches a hand to his chest dramatically, his eyes wide. He thinks if he really tried he could force a couple tears, but that seems like overkill just to fluster Jiang Cheng.
“One day when you least expect it, Wei Ying, I’ll-”
“I’m pregnant!” Wei Ying declares, before Jiang Cheng can really get started, complete with jazz hands and all.
Calling the “What?!” that leaves Jiang Cheng’s mouth merely a shriek might be a little too generous.
Yanli’s eyes promptly well up with tears that she is very bravely attempting to pretend are not there.
“Don’t freak out,” Wei Ying says, ducking his head a little in an attempt to pretend people aren’t blatantly staring at them now.
“I’m not freaking out! And if I was, it'd be valid!” Jiang Cheng snaps, and winces when Yanli pinches his arm, “I just- How are you pregnant?! What the fuck Wei Ying?”
“Well, you see, you know, when an omega is feeling a little horny and a lot stressed, he starts hooking up with this truly obnoxious alpha getting his fucking M.B.A. even though he swore after that one really disastrous like, three months in undergrad that he’d never fuck around with business majors ever again- apparently for good reason, may I add- but like, the dick is good and the omega is running on like 3 hours of sleep and an unfortunate and possibly dangerous amount of caffeine pills so like, whatever, who cares what his personality is like? The guy can brag all about how none of this matters because he has a buddy whose startup he’s gonna help with all he wants, the omega doesn’t care. And then,” Wei Ying takes a deep breath and leans over the table to slap a hand over Jiang Cheng’s mouth before he can interrupt Wei Ying’s explanation, “because of the aforementioned lack of sleep and stress, he like, forgets to keep track of his heats because whatever, they’re all out of whack anyway because, again, stress or whatever, because the human body is a scam, so the omega just like, doesn’t even question why he’s super extra down to fuck one night when his M.B.A. booty call invites him over until it’s weeks later and he’s peeing on a stick at 3 am because holy shit, what the fuck. And then he attempts to not cry into the phone and the dude who knocked him up is like ‘I really don’t care what you do about it’ and ‘It’s probably not even mine’ and slut shames the omega. That, Jiang Cheng, is how someone gets fucking pregnant.” He finishes, removing his hand from Jiang Cheng’s mouth only to jab a finger at him.
Jiang Cheng looks like he wants to self immolate and/or possibly murder someone. Probably M.B.Asshole. His ‘wants to murder Wei Ying’ look is incredibly different. The murderous intentions are kind of soothing, actually.
Yanli looks torn between laughing and crying, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes suspiciously wet.
In the meantime, their waitress has arrived and looks like she wants to quit her job and run away to live in the woods. Wei Ying relates.
“Well then,” The waitress starts, clapping her hands together and very visibly pretending like the entire restaurant didn’t just witness what happened, “Can I get you guys anything to start? Drinks? Appetizers?”
Wei Ying is leaving her such a big tip.
.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says as he drapes himself dramatically over Lan Zhan’s lap where he’s sitting on the couch in the office they share.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says in what Wei Ying will take for a greeting, lifting his laptop in time for Wei Ying to not land on it and then settling it right down on top of Wei Ying’s back.
“Do you have any snacks? You always have snacks.”
“You don’t like my snacks,” Lan Zhan says, “You think they’re too… how did you say it? Granola-y.”
“Because they’re literally granola. You literally live off granola. I know this is Berkeley but do you have to be a stereotype, Lan Zhan? It’s shameful.” He’s pillowed his face on his arms on the couch cushion next to them, so he can’t see Lan Zhan’s face, but he’s sure that he’s giving Wei Ying a very unimpressed look.
His unimpressed look is not all that different than his normal expression, but Wei Ying shares an office with the guy, sees him literally every day in meetings and classes and even sometimes, just to have fun or hang out outside of anything to do with school, and has made a point of bothering him frequently. He knows the encyclopedia of Lan Zhan microexpressions. He could very well write the encyclopedia of Lan Zhan microexpressions.
“You may have some. If you’d like.” Lan Zhan says finally, instead of arguing with Wei Ying about the validity of his bougie hippie food. That’s probably smart, though somewhat disappointing. Wei Ying could have gone on forever. He loves going on about Lan Zhan’s bougie hippie food. He’s got a whole bit about Lan Zhan as a hippie with bell bottoms. Lan Zhan shifts around without disrupting Wei Ying too much and a reusable snack bag full of granola is plopped in front of Wei Ying’s face.
“My hero,” Wei Ying says, fishing out a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. He’s found it, the most boring food in the world. It doesn’t make him want to hurl like the mere thought of a bowl of Captain Crunch had this morning. “I thought I was going to starve. Turns out morning sickness is no joke.”
Lan Zhan’s laptop almost slides right off of Wei Ying’s back, and in the scuffle of Lan Zhan jerking forward to snatch it before it falls and breaks, Wei Ying tumbles to the ground, clutching the bag of granola to his chest like a prized possession.
“Morning sickness.” If Wei Ying didn’t know better he’d swear that Lan Zhan’s voice cracks.
“Surprise, I’m pregnant,” Wei Ying says and wiggles his fingers in what he thinks is a spectacular imitation of jazz hands. God, he needs to stop doing jazz hands when he announces this. It’s beginning to become a whole thing.
“Who.”
Wei Ying has driven Lan Zan to monosylibles and an even more than usual complete lack of inflection. Neat.
“No one important,” Wei Ying says, waving it away like it’s nothing, because it is. “Help me up Lan Zhan. I’m so delicate and feeble, and you knocked me all the way down here, you should help me up.”
The reaction is immediate. Wei Ying has genuinely never seen Lan Zhan react so quickly, but the moment the words leave his mouth Lan Zhan is crouched over him, helping him up with firm but gentle hands and then steering him back to the couch.
“Oh my god, did I trigger some weird alpha thing? Like, some big bad alpha must protect the poor pregnant omega thing? Oh my god, I did, didn’t I?” Wei Ying asks as Lan Zhan is literally fluffing the sad, deflated cushion of the couch behind Wei Ying’s back.
“No,” Lan Zhan says in what just might be the worst attempt at lying Wei Ying has ever seen, and Wei Ying grew up with Jiang Cheng .
“Wow, Lan Zhan, for someone whose main facial expression is ‘detached,’ you’re incredibly bad at lying.”
Lan Zhan does not respond.
“It’s okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, all wide eyes and an overly serious tone, “I won’t judge you for your instincts. This is a no judgement zone. We even have a sign! See!” He gestures vaguely to the sign that he stuck up their first week in this office.
If Lan Zhan was going to say something or keep staring, Wei Ying will never know, because there’s a knock on the doorframe and the head of one of Wei Ying’s students popping in.
“Sir? I was just wondering if-”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Wei Ying? Sir is Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying says, and then there’s a slight thump, and Lan Zhan is leaving. Wei Ying shakes his head fondly at Lan Zhan. “What a weirdo,” He says before turning his attention back to his student.
There’s a bag of ginger chews and a box of crackers left conspicuously on Wei Ying’s desk the next day. Wei Ying pops a ginger chew into his mouth and ignores the way his stomach flutters in a way that is very much not related to morning sickness.
.
“I’m getting fat.” Wei Ying says, several weeks later, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch in the tiny apartment he shares with Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Mianmian.
“You’re not getting fat. You’re barely even showing,” Mianmian says from where she’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, a mirror and her makeup bag spread out on the coffee table, carefully applying eyeliner. Wei Ying loves Mianmian. Their former crazy roommate, Xue Yang, going absolutely psycho and then bailing to like, live with his weird boyfriends or whatever, and Mianmian happening to need a place at exactly the time Wei Ying and the Wens needed to rush to find someone to take Xue Yang’s place so that they could make rent had really been a boon.
He especially loves Mianmian when she’s indulging in his complaining, because Wen Qing, who is buried in a textbook the size of a small mountain in the spot between the living room and what can only technically be called a “kitchen” that they’ve declared a dining room is pointedly ignoring him.
“I can’t button my jeans,” He pouts. He can, technically. They just dig in more than he’s used to. He wants to complain, however. Complaining sparks joy.
“Then buy new ones,” Wen Qing says, finally acknowledging him. “Maybe you should have thought about how you’d have to buy all new clothes while you were getting pregnant and not thinking about how it would affect you and literally everyone else around you.”
Wen Qing snaps her textbook shut and stalks to her bedroom, Wei Ying looking helplessly after her.
Mianmian huffs a little noise and pats Wei Ying’s knee in a vaguely comforting gesture, “You know how she hates change and doesn’t really have the emotional capability to handle these kinds of things.”
Wei Ying sighs and rolls off the couch, carefully avoiding hitting Mianmian with flailing limbs. “I’m gonna go make her have a heart to heart. Have a good night at work, I hope you earn crazy tips so that you can keep me in the life I’ve grown accustomed to.”
“Wen Qing. Love of my life. My best friend in the world. Smartest person I know,” Wei Ying says pleading as he drops onto the end of Wen Qing’s bed in her shoebox bedroom and clasps his hands in front of his chest, going for an over the top semblance of innocence.
“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, viciously highlighting something in her textbook. Wei Ying’s a little worried for the safety of the page. He can just picture Wen Qing’s highlighter ripping right through it.
“You’re my best friend, you know?” Wei Ying asks, poking at one of Wen Qing’s socked feet in a bid for attention.
“Wen Ning. Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan…”
“Okay, Wen Ning is one day going to become rich and leave us all because the internet loves him, Jiang Cheng is my brother, and I want to climb Lan Zhan like a tree and stay there for literally forever, not be his best friend. You’re the only person who is simultaneously mean enough and still fond enough of me to be my best friend.”
“You’re pushing it with the fondness,” Wen Qing says.
“I’m wounded. Hurt. Destroyed,” Wei Ying says, pouting dramatically.
“Good.”
“You’re so rude to me. If you were at all into men, you and Jiang Cheng could have a long happy life of tormenting me,” Wei Ying says, and then, a little more seriously, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before I went off and got knocked up and shook up our whole world. In my defense, it was kind of an accident. There wasn’t a lot of time to make a pros versus cons list of how it might affect the balance of the roommate force.”
“You’re the worst at apologies, Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, but she’s softened around the edges, Wei Ying can tell. He’s definitely forgiven now.
Wei Ying hums his acknowledgement and they sit in quiet for a long moment while Wen Qing, much more calmly now, highlights a few things in her textbook. Eventually, Wei Ying stretches out and asks, “Do you think I’ll be good at it? The whole mom thing?”
“I think you’re going to forget your kid in a Chili’s at least twice.”
.
By the time Wei Ying is in his second trimester, morning sickness is a thing of the past. Which opens up the new and delightful game Wei Ying likes to call ‘What Gross Pregnancy Foods Can I Eat To Gross Out My Friends?’
Yanli, who is married and disgustingly in love and has been reading up on pregnancy things with Jin Zixuan ( together. They’re doing their reading together because they’re disgustingly in love and married.) so that she can enter the world of planned motherhood, is unfortunately unphased.
Wen Ning who spends hours upon hours a day streaming video games for a living and therefore eats like an absolute trash gremlin is also unmoved.
Wen Qing seems more annoyed by the fact that Wei Ying is trying to achieve something with this than she is disgusted by his food combinations.
Jiang Cheng however? Jiang Cheng is an absolute fucking goldmine.
The first time Wei Ying puts sriracha on his ice cream while in Jiang Cheng’s presence he swears he sees a vein twitch.
And sure, maybe Wei Ying should like, you know, try to be a better person who doesn’t thrive off the discomfort of his own brother, but he’s just not. The vein twitch is practically a challenge to keep pushing it.
He will make Jiang Cheng break.
“What do you think? Any ideas on how to really break him?” Wei Ying asks after explaining all of this to Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan blinks.
“We could start a list! I love a good list,” Wei Ying says, dragging a notepad towards him and writing Gross Pregnancy Food Combos To Defeat Jiang Cheng Once And For All! at the top. He scribbles a couple items onto the list, musing to himself. “Maybe pickles and peanut butter will do it. Even that sounds kind of disgusting to me right now, so it should break Jiang Cheng with his sensitive sensibilities. Oh my god though, pickles. Lan Zhan, I need pickles. No! Pickled jalapenos. Just an entire jar of pickled jalapenos.”
“Okay,” Lan Zhan says and then fucking leaves.
Wei Ying blinks at the empty desk Lan Zhan had literally just been sitting at and then huffs a little and starts the long and arduous process of answering emails.
Lan Zhan returns less than a half hour later and drops a bag from a nearby sandwich shop next to Wei Ying’s computer. Inside is what smells an awful lot like an italian sub as well as twelve souffle cups filled with pickled jalapenos. Twelve!
“ Lan Zhan.”
“You said you wanted pickled jalapenos. Now you have pickled jalapenos,” Lan Zhan says, like it’s that simple, and unwraps his own sandwich. Wei Ying knows in his bones that it’s a very boring sandwich. Lan Zhan only eats boring food. It’s a fatal flaw and yet somehow Wei Ying is hopelessly into it.
“And the sandwich?”
“Adequate nutrition is imperative for healthy fetal development,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying’s not sure if he’s repeating something he read in a textbook or if it’s just how Lan Zhan talks. It could be both, honestly.
“Thank you for caring about the development of my fetus,” Wei Ying says, forcing his expression into something wide eyed and solemn even though he very much wants to laugh at the phrasing. Then, he opens one of the souffle cups and stuffs 3 pickled jalapeno slices directly into his mouth.
“Mh,” Lan Zhan says, and then, “You’re not very good at caring for yourself. Someone has to.”
“Lan Zhan! You’re teasing me! I can feel it. You look so serious but you’re definitely teasing me. This is unfair! Unallowed! Illegal!” Wei Ying says, jabbing a finger at Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan’s mouth curves into the barest hint of a smile. “Eat your sandwich.”
“Yes, dad,” Wei Ying complains even as he unwraps his sandwich and bites into it.
“My mother,” Lan Zhan says finally, a while later, when Wei Ying has eaten an entire half of his sandwich. Wei Ying sits up incredibly straight, his focus entirely on Lan Zhan because Lan Zhan never talks about his parents, only his brother and his uncle, “Apparently wanted carrots dipped in peanut butter when she was pregnant with me. It might work just as well on your brother, and be less disgusting than the pickle option.”
.
Wei Ying is, to the best of his abilities, very much not having a full blown panic attack. His not having a panic attack apparently is not enough however, because Lan Zhan looks at him with a little worried crease between his eyebrows when he walks in and asks “Wei Ying, what’s wrong?” which is, unfortunately, enough that Wei Ying’s eyes immediately fill with tears.
“I am going to have to raise my baby in a box on the side of the road,” Wei Ying says and snaps his laptop shut and pushes it to the opposite side of his desk where he can pretend it doesn’t exist. “Or Kansas or Ohio or somewhere like that . Which is just as bad.”
“I’m sure the people of Kansas would argue with that,” Lan Zhan says and it startles a hitching laugh out of Wei Ying.
“But not the people of Ohio?” Wei Ying asks and Lan Zhan gives a serene nod. “God, you’re very mean Lan Zhan, you know that? It’s kind of great.”
“What’s wrong?” Lan Zhan asks- again, because apparently he’s too stubborn to be distracted by Wei Ying calling him mean. How rude.
“I have come to the conclusion that maybe, possibly, perhaps, a baby, and roommates who are either in med school, streaming on like, twitch or whatever 12 hours a day, or working approximately 8 jobs are not going to be an ideal combination. Wen Qing doesn’t even like kids! She thinks I’m gonna forget the baby at a Denny’s and honestly, when she says it I think there’s hope there. Also there’s no room for a baby in our current setup. Mianmian sleeps in the living room. My room is the size of a closet. My baby will become one of those babies that sleeps in a dresser drawer and then what do I do when it gets too big for a dresser drawer? I could- I could put up sound proofing and get a loft bed and put the baby under it. But oh god, I’d have constant panic attacks about the loft bed falling down and crushing it’s poor little soft skull- did you know babies have freakishly soft heads? So soft that sometimes when they come out they just have, like, a cone shaped head and have to wear a helmet. Oh my god it’s poor little conehead is gonna get squished by my loft bed or I’ll have to raise it in Arkansas where it’ll never meet the rest of it’s family because this is the most expensive place in the fucking-”
“ Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, curling a hand over Wei Ying’s shoulder and giving him a little shake like maybe he’s said Wei Ying’s name multiple times already during Wei Ying’s spiral.
Wei Ying blinks up at Lan Zhan. “Yeah?”
“ Breathe.”
“Oh. Yeah. Good idea. Breathing is a good idea,” Wei Ying says and does his best to, you know, do that . It’s somehow easier to manage when Lan Zhan rubs a hand soothingly, back and forth, across Wei Ying’s back.
“I have an extra room,” Lan Zhan says, when Wei Ying is breathing somewhat normally again and feels slightly less like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin from the anxiety of looking at apartment listings.
Wei Ying stares. He pinches his arm hard and it hurts like a bitch, which he guesses is proof he’s not dreaming. Then, he stares even more at Lan Zhan. “ What.”
“I said,” Lan Zhan pauses, as though gathering his words, and also, maybe, his patience to deal with Wei Ying. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is well aware that he is very difficult, especially, probably, for an alpha while he’s still kind of weepy and frayed around the edges. “I have an extra room. And I do not mind. Young children.”
“Okay, but like, this isn’t a young child, Lan Zhan. This is a baby. And before there’s a baby you’ll have to get through months of me. In your space.”
“That will be preparation enough for when there’s a baby,” Lan Zhan says, looking just a little bit pleased with his joke, and Wei Ying laughs, kicking his feet. He thinks that the more he reacts like this, over the top and delighted, the more Lan Zhan seems to be filled with these smug little jokes. He very much wants to encourage it.
“Lan Zhan you can’t! You can’t just be funny! It’s too surprising. I’m too surprised. This can’t be good for my poor feeble body.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying tries desperately not to imagine he sounds fond.
Wei Ying makes a show of considering it. “Mmmh, I might.” He says before sobering, sitting a little straighter, “Lan Zhan, you can’t just offer for your pregnant cohort to move in with you.”
“Why?” Lan Zhan asks. He sounds a little like he’s indulging Wei Ying. Like he’s already decided how this will go and is just waiting for Wei Ying to catch up. It’s kind of insulting. It also just like, really works for Wei Ying. Unfortunate. He expects to think very thoroughly about Lan Zhan sounding indulgent later. Tonight. When it’s just him in his lonely bed.
“Because… Because!” Wei Ying maybe shouts a little and jabs a finger at Lan Zhan, whose eyebrows creep up as though prompting him to continue. “Because you barely know me! Oh fine, don’t give me that look, I know, I know, we see each other practically every day and I chronically overshare so actually you know me pretty well and we are, in fact, actually pretty good friends. But… But rent! Aha! Rent! I’d have to pay my share of the rent and I’ve seen your apartment, there is no way it’s cheap and as we know from my previous display, I’m very very poor.”
He’s not. Not really. He’s not rolling in money because grad school is expensive and, as he’s established, he lives in one of the most expensive places in the entire country, but also, the home he grew up in after the Jiang’s took him in is literally across the bridge in the Sunset so it’s not like he knows the struggle of poverty intimately or anything. (Outside of some brief, possibly traumatic memories from when he was little, after his parents died but before he was placed with the Jiangs, but he tends not to think about those.)
Theoretically, if everything went to hell he could go home and prostrate himself before Madam Yu and move back into the room he grew up sharing with Jiang Cheng until he’s finished with grad school and has the whole real adult job thing nailed down and stable. Madam Yu would complain about it, but his uncle probably wouldn’t mind, and besides, Madam Yu complains about him if he’s there and complains about him if he’s not there if the play by plays Jiang Cheng texts him of Madam Yu’s rants about Wei Ying’s lack of filial piety, and how she would expect that even he would respect her enough to show up for dinner once a month in the household that raised him are anything to go by.
Lan Zhan, luckily, distracts Wei Ying from spiraling into thoughts of returning to his childhood bedroom where Jiang Cheng’s soccer trophies and Wei Ying’s robotics competition award ribbons live, by placing a piece of paper with a number on it in front of Wei Ying.
“The rent,” He says, which is helpful, because Wei Ying had possibly already forgotten what they were talking about.
Wei Ying blinks. Wei Ying blinks again. “There is no way your rent is that cheap. Lan Zhan I pay more than that for my closet bedroom! Lan Zhan, do not lie to me about your rent!”
“My family owns the building.” Lan Zhan says, seeming somehow uncomfortable. Which. Good. His family owns an entire building! A nice building! Wei Ying has seen that building! Sure, the Jiang’s own their house, but it’s a modest house! Bought decades ago when home ownership was presumably still an achievable goal that didn’t require the sort of money that takes like, sacrificing virgins and/or all morals and ethics for.
Wei Ying does not hold such lofty goals. He assumes, as a millennial, that when he dies it will violate the lease on whatever crappy apartment he lives in at the time and the bad credit from it will follow him into his next life.
“Wait. Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, leaning across his desk to peer at Lan Zhan closely, “Are you, like, super rich? Oh my god you're super rich aren’t you. I knew your clothes looked way too nice! They have very strong celebrity in a perfectly fitted thousand dollar white t-shirt vibes, despite the fact that I have never seen you in an actual t-shirt.”
“We are… Comfortable,” Lan Zhan says, ignoring Wei Ying’s babbling about celebrity t-shirts.
“Oh my god, that’s exactly what rich people say! ”
“We have… veered away from the original point,” Lan Zhan says in a blatant attempt to steer the conversation away from Wei Ying mocking him mercilessly for his family’s money. Even if Wei Ying hasn’t really started the mocking, they know it’s coming. Wei Ying knows it’s coming. Lan Zhan knows it’s coming. Wei Ying making dumb jokes about whether or not Lan Zhan has a trust fund and if he spent summers in the Hamptons or wherever the fuck it is Gossip Girl has taught him rich people spend their summers is going to happen.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes, yes, fine. I will move in with you because that’s an absolute steal, you could be being a leech on society and renting that room out for like five times that and I am unashamed of taking advantage of it. But if you decide to kick me out when this thing is born because you haven’t properly thought through the ramifications of living with a newborn I will have to go live in like, Missouri, but before I do I will ugly cry all over you and everything you love.”
Wei Ying’s threats to cry on everything Lan Zhan loves turn out to be useless because when he shows up at Lan Zhan’s apartment with Wen Qing and Wen Ning to help him move his stuff Lan Zhan sets down a lease and a pen.
“Excuse me,” Wei Ying says and then promptly hides in Lan Zhan’s- his own, oh god- bathroom and maybe cries a little bit.
Wen Qing only lets him have a few minutes to feel sorry for himself for being an emotional wreck before she knocks sharply on the door and demands to be let in.
“It’s not locked,” Wei Ying says and scrubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his flannel.
“You need to get your shit together, Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says and Wei Ying feels his lower lip wobble. “ Shit. I didn’t mean to. It’s not my fault my normal tactics of dealing with you don’t work with baby hormones.”
“You’re the worst at apologies, Wen Qing,” Wei Ying says with a sniffly little smile.
“Why are we hiding in the bathroom?” Wen Qing asks instead of responding like a normal human being, perching herself on the edge of Lan Zhan’s bathtub.
“I’m having an attack of hormones because this idiot invited me and my unborn baby to live here and he drew up a lease. A legal contract! He can’t kick me out even if he wants to!”
“I’m failing to see the problem here,” Wen Qing says, giving Wei Ying a strange look.
“The problem is that he’s perfect!” Wei Ying wails, “How am I supposed to not fall in love with him while living in his house.”
It’s unfortunate. It’s tragic. He’s fine with Lan Zhan just being his friend! He accepts it! He’d hit on Lan Zhan exactly twice when they first met and Lan Zhan had made it perfectly clear that he was absolutely not interested and so Wei Ying had started hooking up with M.B.Asshole because an omega has needs, okay? So, like, he can deal with this. It just feels very tragic and overwrought right now. He’s going to blame it on the hormones.
“You,” Wen Qing tells him, very seriously, “Are an idiot.”
“I don’t see how insulting me is supposed to help with my situation,” Wei Ying says, letting Wen Qing take him by the shoulders and steer him back out of the bathroom. Despite his words it does help a little bit, actually.
100 points to Wen Qing for her creative means of fixing Wei Ying.
Wei Ying signs the lease. He moves his stuff into the bedroom Lan Zhan has said is his. He latches onto Wen Ning and hugs him tightly and refuses to let go for a solid five minutes.
“A-Ning, I will miss you the absolute most! Never forget me or the pure and true bond that we share!” He tells him, clinging a little and Wen Ning gently pats at his back.
“You’re going to see us tomorrow,” Wen Qing says, removing Wei Ying’s octopus arms from her brother.
“Oh. Yeah. You’re right,” Wei Ying says, deflating only a moment before he perks back up and throws his arms around Wen Qing this time. “Wen Qing, I’m going to miss you being mean to me so much .”
“ Wei Ying!” Wen Qing is not, historically, a hugger.
“Honor the bonds of our friendship by letting your poor, poor pregnant friend hug you, Wen Qing. It’ll only be for a second. You can do it. It won’t kill you, I promise.”
“It might. You don’t know that it won’t. I’m the one getting a medical degree.”
Wei Ying huffs out a laugh and presses his face into Wen Qing’s shoulder, breathing in her steady, neutral scent for a moment as she somewhat awkwardly hugs him back. Finally, having sympathy on his poor, poor friend he lets go and steps back.
“Okay, okay, I’m done now. Thanks. For helping me move, and also for like, not being mad that I left you needing to find a new roommate.”
“Please, we would have kicked you out the second the kid was born,” Wen Qing says, and Wei Ying grins because it’s a lie. It’s a big fat giant lie. The kind of lie that can be seen from space. Wei Ying loves his friends so much .
“Uh-huh. Sure you would. Now get out of mine and Lan Zhan’s apartment.”
.
The bed in Lan-Zhan’s-guest-room-turned-Wei-Ying’s room is- Wei Ying is pretty sure sure- actually magical.
The first night he piles blankets and pillows high and curls up in the center of them. He sleeps like the dead, and when he wakes up it’s to the smell of something delicious wafting into his room.
Wei Ying stumbles from the bed, dragging a comforter around his shoulders with him, and follows his nose with his eyes still mostly closed. A pair of hands on his shoulders steer him into a chair and he slumps over the table, yawning into his comforter.
When he finally opens his eyes fully there’s a plate of food in front of him.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims, delighted, and digs in, “This is too much! You’re too good a friend Lan Zhan, I’m going to end up spoiled. I’ll start expecting delicious hot breakfasts in the morning and then when they’re not there I’ll be bereft. How will I ever survive?”
“Mh,” Lan Zhan says, which Wei Ying takes to mean ‘Eat your breakfast, Wei Ying.’
So he does.
It goes on, more or less, like this for a while. Lan Zhan consistently makes sure Wei Ying is eating, and Wei Ying enjoys his magical bed and he especially enjoys the washer-dryer just off the kitchen that means he doesn’t have to drag all his clothes to a laundromat every couple weeks.
“Is this what it feels like to be an adult?” Wei Ying asks his bedding and the universe at large as he shoves it into the washing machine, “Not having to buy a tiny packet of dryer sheets out of a vending machine because you forgot them at home? Getting to lay on your couch instead of sitting on an awkward little bench while you wait? Amazing. Incredible. This is the life. ”
Lan Zhan makes a vague skeptical noise where he’s standing in front of the stove, stir frying what will surely be a balanced and nutritious dinner. Wei Ying had discovered him googling ‘ nutrition for pregnant omegas’ a week ago and he now has way too many facts about how Wei Ying needs things like iron and folic acid and all of that.
Wei Ying had at one point, when faced with these “facts,” grabbed his froot loops from off the top of the fridge and shoved the box into Lan Zhan’s face, insisting that ‘they’re fortified Lan Zhan, it’s like taking a vitamin’ but Lan Zhan hadn’t seemed convinced.
“It is, Lan Zhan, it’s the life,” Wei Ying insists, moving further into the kitchen once he’s started the washing machine and leaning against the counter on his elbows to watch the rice cooker as though he can speed it’s cooking along with Lan Zhan’s through the power of Wei Ying’s will alone. It doesn’t work, of course, which is terrible, because it means Wei Ying has to be patient.
Madam Yu had told him when he was at monthly dinner last that he’d need to develop patience to deal with raising a child, the same as she had to with him, and while at the time Wei Ying had been mostly focused on how impressive it was that he hadn’t responded with ‘that was you being patient?’ he is maybe, now, realizing that she’s possibly correct.
He imagines, for a brief instance, himself and a tiny child, staring impatiently at Lan Zhan while he cooks and then has to very firmly erase Lan Zhan from that picture. Eventually Wei Ying will move out and Lan Zhan will…
Lan Zhan will find someone nice to settle down with and have cute babies of his own with and he will- judging by how over the top he is with Wei Ying, who is only a friend- take insanely good care of them. The best care of them. Out of this world, unbelievable care.
And Wei Ying will embrace single motherhood and probably learn the patience thing Madam Yu was talking about when it comes to dealing with his kid, but probably not when it comes to dinner.
“Make the food cook faster Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, pressing his hands together and giving a very exaggerated pout, “The baby and I are starving. Famished! Withering away into nothingness. Help this poor omega who has not eaten for 40 days and 40 nights. Woe, Lan Zhan, woe!”
Lan Zhan, who has seemingly learned that engaging Wei Ying when he gets like this will surely just make him keep going, does not give any sort of verbal response, because he’s a giant spoil sport, though Wei Ying is sure for a very brief moment- before he convinces himself otherwise- that he isn’t imagining the fond look on Lan Zhan’s face.
.
Wei Ying isn’t quite sure how it happens but somehow Lan Zhan ends up taking Wei Ying to his ultrasound.
While completely unexplainable, this is good because Wei Ying is vibrating with a horrible mix of excitement and anxiety, and Lan Zhan lets him chatter at him through the drive there and the possibly ten minutes, possibly seven hours, Wei Ying could not possibly say because time is meaningless at this juncture, that they spend sitting in the waiting room.
It takes an inordinate amount of time, and also somehow no time at all, before he’s in a tiny room and there’s cold gel being spread on his stomach and then-
“Oh.” He says, his eyes fixed on the screen. He reaches out blindly, grabbing onto Lan Zhan’s hand. “That’s a baby. I mean, I knew it was a baby, but I’d kinda been thinking about them as like, an amorphous blob but they’ve got a nose. Look at their nose Lan Zhan!”
“It’s a very good nose,” Lan Zhan agrees and Wei Ying preens a little bit. He made that nose. He made that whole baby! All by himself! Technically , he guesses, there was another person involved in the baby’s creation, but Wei Ying is absolutely taking full credit for this. He deserves this win, okay?
“Everything looks very good, including the nose,” His doctor, who insists on being called Doctor Claudia, says brightly. He’s sure that if he were able to look away from the screen for even a second he’d see her smiling. She smiles a lot. Her smile is very bright, and her hair very shiny, and at first she’d reminded him deeply of the overly perfect kind of girls in highschool that Xue Yang sold his adderall to but he’d gotten past that impression pretty quickly. And now, a few months, several appointments, and a half dozen viewings of pictures of her wife and children on her phone later, Wei Ying’s become pretty fond of her. “Do you want to know the gender?”
Wei Ying has a whole ramble on how gender is a scam that was initially spurred on by Jiang Cheng asking ‘ what if it’s a boy?’ when Wei Ying bought a tiny adorable little pink tutu only a few weeks into the pregnancy because he absolutely could not resist it. Still, despite his well worn tangent, there’s curiosity, so he doesn’t hesitate to say, “Yes. Absolutely. Please .”
They’re quiet as she moves the wand around over Wei Ying’s stomach, the moment drawing out. Wei Ying still has a tight hold on Lan Zhan’s hand, and he considers- momentarily- letting Lan Zhan have his hand back, because surely he wants it back, before Lan Zhan’s other hand joins the one holding onto Wei Ying’s, squeezing his hand between them, and he gives up that thought entirely.
“Congratulations, it looks like you’re having a girl.”
Oh. “Oh wow.” It suddenly feels very, very real. It’s not like it hadn’t felt real before. It’d certainly felt real enough when Wei Ying was unable to eat most things without wanting to hurl. Or when he was moving in with Lan Zhan. It’s just that now it feels even more real. Like when you know, theoretically, that the jigsaw puzzle you’re working on will become the Eiffel Tower, but it’s not until halfway through that you know how it will all come together.
Except in this case the Eiffel Tower is a baby.
A baby girl.
Oh. Oh wow.
After, when Wei Ying is curled up in the passenger seat of Lan Zhan’s car, he decides that he’s very glad he let Lan Zhan convince him that they should take his car. He’s happy, filled with hope and excitement and no small amount of elation, but he’s also overwhelmed, and the thought of the sights and sounds and smells that would accompany a bus ride home is terrible.
“Can you take me somewhere?”
“Where do you want to go?” Lan Zhan asks, casting a glance away from the road and towards Wei Ying.
“Anywhere out of the city,” Wei Ying says and Lan Zhan nods, turns on his blinker, and winds their way towards the freeway.
Lan Zhan drives them across the bridge and Wei Ying raises his eyebrows as he watches the San Francisco skyline get ever closer.
“We’re just passing through.” Lan Zhan says, the slightest edge of defensiveness lacing his voice.
“I wasn’t doubting you,” Wei Ying says and pats at Lan Zhan’s shoulder before he slumps a little into his seat, shifting until he can prop his feet up on the dash. “If we got a big one and the bridge collapsed would you want to be on the bottom or the top?”
“I’d prefer to not be on the bridge at all,” Lan Zhan says, “Put your feet down, it’s not safe.”
“Okay, yeah, obviously, but like, if you had to choose.”
“If I was on the bridge then I wouldn’t have a choice, would I?” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying narrows his eyes at him because Lan Zhan is being purposefully obtuse but then Lan Zhan removes one hand from the steering wheel, curls it over Wei Ying’s ankle and shoves until Wei Ying drops his feet with a grumble and sits properly. Semi properly. His feet are on the floor at least.
“You’re no fun,” Wei Ying says, pouting dramatically.
As though proving Wei Ying’s point, Lan Zhan hums his agreement instead of responding via words.
They’re fully out of the city when Wei Ying realizes where they’re heading and declares that he wants Taco Bell.
Lan Zhan, because he has become one of Wei Ying’s very best friends, seems to understand exactly what Wei Ying means and shortly after they’re pulling up in front of the wood structure of a Taco Bell with the beach spreading out beyond it.
Once inside they order and Lan Zhan, the jerk , pays before Wei Ying can even think to argue.
He is perfectly capable of arguing after however, which is why he complains that “Lan Zhan I could have paid! It’s practically the cheapest food ever,” while picking out entire handfuls of hot sauce sauce packets while they wait.
Lan Zhan doesn’t even acknowledge his very valid argument, instead swooping over to pick up their tray when it’s ready and then following Wei Ying out onto the patio and to a table.
“You’re very stubborn Lan Zhan, did you know that?” Wei Ying asks, waving a packet of hot sauce at Lan Zhan.
“I’ve been told,” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying with the same sort of look he’d give something very bizarre while Wei Ying meticulously rips open six packets of diablo hot sauce, unwraps his burrito, unfolds the tortilla, then squeezes all of them into the burrito, folds it back up again and takes a huge bite.
“Oh good, I just thought you should know,” Wei Ying says, grinning.
It’s a quiet day, midweek and overcast and a little bit chilly. There’s a few people scattered across the beach, a couple walking their dog- far enough away that Wei Ying doesn’t quite panic at the sight of it, and a couple figures out in the water, surfing.
It’s nice. Calming even, after the excitement and exhilaration and anxiety of his appointment.
Lan Zhan takes a bite of his potato taco.
Someone on the beach shrieks in what sounds like delight as they’re chased into the freezing cold ocean.
There’s a bird hopping on a nearby table, seeking out bits of food left behind. Nie Huaisang would know the exact name of it, he’s sure, but Jiang Cheng once got annoyed and called them “the rats of the sea” purely to piss Nie Huaisang off because the two were in the midst of a fight and now Wei Ying’s brain will never refer to them as anything else.
“Thank you,” Wei Ying says, eventually, when he’s finished his burrito and is starting on his crunchwrap, squeezing diablo sauce onto it before every bite. “Y’know, for coming with me today. For everything, really. You’re- You’re a really good friend Lan Zhan.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying hums a little, flicks a piece of lettuce towards Lan Zhan and says “I know, but I’m still going to.”
When they’re finished, Lan Zhan gathers up their trash, deposits it in the trash can and their tray in it’s spot above it, and then they wander along the beach. It’s nice. Lan Zhan lets Wei Ying curl his arm through Lan Zhan’s, and carries Wei Ying’s shoes when Wei Ying complains about sand getting into them, and seems perfectly content to let Wei Ying lead him around aimlessly despite the fact that he knows Lan Zhan has an early class tomorrow and probably has a whole stack of papers to grade waiting at home.
They end up sat on the beach, while the sun makes it’s slow crawl down across the sky, lighting the world up in orange and blue and pink.
Wei Ying leans against Lan Zhan, his head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of sandalwood and something that’s uniquely Lan Zhan.
“Gosh you smell good,” Wei Ying mumbles into Lan Zhan’s shoulder and above him there’s a strangled sounding noise.
“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, sounding a little strange, but he distracts Wei Ying before he can pester him about it by being an absolute fuddy duddy and saying “We should go home. It’s getting cold, and you have an early class.”
Wei Ying very briefly thinks about being pouty and calling Lan Zhan boring for his respect for what he calls “healthy sleep hygiene” and Wei Ying calls “I can sleep when I’m dead, Lan Zhan.” The warm feeling that suffuses his entire being at the thought of home wins out however and he doesn’t even complain a little bit as Lan Zhan leads him home.
.
There are adjustments to be made when one starts living with someone else. Wei Ying is sure of this. He keeps expecting the hard ones to pop up. For Lan Zhan to get more annoyed with him than the little sigh he does when he comes in to find Wei Ying surrounded by papers and eating cereal straight out of the box on Lan Zhans nice couch. For Lan Zhan to indicate somehow, someway, that he’s growing tired of Wei Ying constantly in his space and needs some time alone.
It never happens. In fact it doesn’t even happen the times it should .
Like when Lan Zhan’s brother and his husband come over for dinner.
Wei Ying is fully prepared to retreat to his room so that Lan Zhan can do the whole family dinner thing, but when he goes to make his escape attempt Lan Zhan gives him a strange look and asks “Where are you going?” like Wei Ying’s the one being weird, so, well, he figures he might as well stick around.
Lan Huan looks like a somewhat more visibly pleasant, older version of Lan Zhan, which is the sort of thing that feels deeply unfair. No singular family should be allowed to create a bunch of hyper-attractive almost-but-not-quite clones. Wei Ying is going to have to fight the universe about it.
Meanwhile, Lan Huan’s husband Meng Yao is, like, the perfect omega . He’s small and well dressed and wears a wedding ring the size of a fucking dinner plate. He has dimples . He brings a bottle of probably very expensive wine and a bottle of sparkling apple cider because ‘Lan Zhan tells us you’re expecting’ and is, at first glance, perfect in the way that makes Wei Ying, who is hurtling face forward towards single parenthood at roughly the speed of a jet plane and is wearing a t-shirt that he bought in high school that is now definitely more holes than shirt, feel, you know, slightly inadequate.
Wei Ying is, in general, pretty comfortable with who he is as a human being and an omega, but he doesn’t think he can be blamed for any doubts when faced with this kind of thing.
“You didn’t tell me they were perfect,” Wei Ying hisses at Lan Zhan when Meng Yao and Lan Huan have disappeared into the kitchen to, like, chill the wine or something like that.
Lan Zhan looks deeply confused for several seconds before he pulls out his phone, taps it for a few seconds, and then says “This is from their joint bachelor party,” with a casualness that belies the fact that he’s sharing the sort of picture that, if Wei Ying had something similar of Jiang Cheng, would be used for a variety of purposes ranging from blackmailing to pasting it in a scrapbook so that he can pull it out and reminisce until Jiang Cheng threatened to strangle him.
It has the exact effect Lan Zhan probably counted on however, because there is no way Wei Ying can think of these people as, like, Instagram-Level-Perfection when he’s staring at a picture of the two of them so clearly and sloppily drunk. Meng Yao is wearing a tiara that sits crookedly on his head, and a sash that says GETTING MARRIED and sitting in a besotted and flushed and very shirtless Lan Huan’s lap.
Lan Zhan flips to another picture and serenely says “This is my brother’s home.”
The photo in question is - ostensibly- of a small, fluffy white dog sitting very primly on a very white, very nice couch, but above it, on the wall, is a deliberately worn wood sign that says Live, Laugh, Love in looping cursive like it’s straight out of someone’s pinterest board.
“This is a photo of my brother on Spring Break with Meng Yao and their friend. You will note, he somehow missed sunscreen on an entire half of his body,” Lan Zhan says next, and then “This is a photo of Lan Huan crying over the end of the movie Marley and Me,” and then, “This is a photo of my brother scrapbooking in his craft room.”
“Wait,” Wei Ying says, no longer able to hold it in, “Do you just, like, have an entire folder on your phone of things to embarrass your brother with?”
“Who would ever do such a thing?” Lan Zhan asks, the picture of innocence. Wei Ying would like to note that that is very much not an answer.
Before Wei Ying can pester him about it however, Lan Huan and Meng Yao are back in the living room and Lan Zhan is shoving his phone back into his pocket while Meng Yao is narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Lan Zhan for the briefest of moments before his expression smooths out into a perfect smile, dimples and all.
After that, the rest of the evening goes smoothly.
Lan Huan makes a series of well meaning and completely innocuous comments that make Lan Zhan’s ears turn red. Meng Yao oscillates with seeming ease between placid niceties and sharp, watchful expressions. The food is delicious and ordered from somewhere expensive, and when Wei Ying forces Lan Zhan to try some of his food directly from his fork because it’s amazing, he has to try it, and Lan Zhan allows it, the silence that follows feels like Wei Ying should literally be hearing crickets.
When they leave, Meng Yao pauses and gives Wei Ying an appraising look. “Try to get him to elope before you have to meet his uncle. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” Meng Yao says and then disappears out the front door to where Lan Zhan is walking Lan Huan to the elevator and out to their car before Wei Ying can respond.
What the fuck, Wei Ying thinks.
“What the fuck,” Wei Ying says, aloud, staring at the empty doorway in front of him.