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Wei Wuxian had assured him - repeatedly - that this particular movie night would not be stressful in any way. In fact, it would be the opposite of stressful. Entirely stress-free. Stress-empty. Jiang Cheng had taken this to mean that they would follow their Friday movie night tradition by ordering too much pizza, indulging in decadent chocolate desserts, and arguing over B-grade pulp fiction movies from the 20th century. And Jiang Cheng, fresh off the hell of midterms week and five consecutive nights of living in the library, wanted nothing more than a good old-fashioned argument with Wei Wuxian on the merits of greyscale color grading over slightly-cold pizza on their worn-out couch to forget the grime and sadness of the student library.
If he’d known that Wei Wuxian, the traitor, had invited Nie Huaisang to join in this time-honoured Jiang family tradition, Jiang Cheng would have preferred to sulk and get ever grimier and sadder in the library.
It wasn’t that Wei Wuxian didn’t know about his - okay fine, it was a long-standing crush, Jiang Cheng had a crush on Nie Huaisang and he’d gotten over it by now, all right? It was that Wei Wuxian, with that familiar twinkle in his eye, enjoyed seeing him squirm and wriggle as Nie Huaisang sat down next to him with a sweet smile. It was that Wei Wuxian was choking with laughter as Nie Huaisang passed Jiang Cheng a fork that Jiang Cheng promptly dropped on the floor, cheeks burning at the fact that their fingers had almost - almost! - made contact. It was that Wei Wuxian enjoyed seeing him suffer as Nie Huaisang simply existed in Jiang Cheng’s vicinity, occasionally giving him soft smiles or leaning over to whisper something to Jiang Cheng that Jiang Cheng promptly forgot because he was too busy trying not to choke at the warm and slightly ticklish feeling of Nie Huaisang’s breath on his ear.
Wei Wuxian was an actual demon.
It came to this - Wei Wuxian claimed the floor for himself and Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang sat on the couch together as they watched some romantic comedy that Nie Huaisang had begged for instead of the low-grade hardboiled crime thriller Jiang Cheng had envisioned. Nie Huaisang's hand rested casually on the space between them, and Jiang Cheng could not seem to stop looking at it ever so often.
Somewhere in the middle, Wei Wuxian had gotten up to turn the lights down low, claiming that the bright light interrupted the ‘mood’ of the whole evening. In the soft flickering glow of the TV, Jiang Cheng could see Nie Huaisang’s lovely profile, shadowy and yet so beautiful and pensive, as he rested his chin on his hands and leant forward. Nie Huaisang was so thoroughly engrossed in the movie that Jiang Cheng took a slight risk and turned his head a fraction. If he got caught, he could always claim that he was staring at him in surprise and bemusement for how invested he seemed to be. If Wei Wuxian claimed otherwise he could always retort that Wuxian had no idea of how his own face looked around Lan Wangji, and was thus not qualified to recognise or point out those signs in anyone else.
He watched Nie Huaisang’s face glow for a brief moment, and then Nie Huaisang’s tongue lightly scraped the bottom of his lower lip as he continued to gaze at the TV, caught up in whatever it was that was happening on the screen.
Jiang Cheng felt his whole body tremble.
And of course Nie Huaisang looked around at that - their couch was old and broken-down and shuddered on its own on a regular day, and Jiang Cheng had vibrated enough to turn into a Himalayan singing bowl. He was violently embarrassed. Nie Huaisang raised his eyebrows.
“Jiang-xiong, are you all right?”
Jiang Cheng tried to speak. Words were so easy, why could he not get them out? He could spew seven dozen words a minute when yelling at Wei Wuxian. But Nie Huaisang was entirely different - he seemed to have a vacuuming effect, where his presence reached into Jiang Cheng and tore out his heart and his tongue and left him speechless. He watched Nie Huaisang blink and begin to lean towards him, concern radiating off his every pore, and tried to tamper the rising panic in his chest.
“Ah, A-Cheng, I’ll go get you some water!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, and Jiang Cheng jumped as Wei Wuxian returned to the forefront of his consciousness. Wei Wuxian’s voice provoked its usual irritation and began to counter the effects of Nie Huaisang’s inexplicable ability to turn Jiang Cheng into an absolute mess.
“I’m f-fine,” he said to Nie Huaisang, proud of the fact that he had managed to string an entire sentence together. “It’s all right.”
Nie Huaisang didn’t look convinced. Jiang Cheng didn’t blame him. He wished Nie Huaisang could turn his focus back to the movie - having those beautiful purple eyes stare fixedly at him was, as usual, churning up his insides.
Vaguely he heard Wei Wuxian stomp out of the living room into the kitchen and mess about in there. That was simultaneously good and concerning - good because Wei Wuxian was out of the way, and bad because now Jiang Cheng was alone in a room sitting next to Nie Huaisang, who was still looking at him with something unreadable in his eyes.
After what felt like an eternity, Nie Huaisang shrugged. His shoulders moved so fluidly , up and down, up and down, two movements in one. Jiang Cheng felt hypnotised.
“If you say so.” Nie Huaisang turned back to the TV, and Jiang Cheng felt his traitorous heart already missing the warmth and pain of his lovely eyes. Jiang Cheng turned back and tried to look appropriately interested. On screen, the male lead had apparently lost a valuable trinket, and was wailing in an open-roofed car in the rain. He was tall and built like a wrestler, muscles bulging under his shirt, and Jiang Cheng found himself terribly disinterested in his fate. He sneaked another glance at Nie Huaisang’s arms out of the left corner of his eye. This was more to his taste - Nie Huaisang was a head shorter than him, small and delicate and yet packing a deadly mean punch.
Nie Huaisang appeared to have forgotten the minor disturbance already and seemed as fixated on the screen as ever. Jiang Cheng caught himself watching the corner of his mouth, longing for the tongue to peek out again, but he promised himself he would not react so visibly the next time.
There it was again! A flash of pink tongue, gone as quickly as it had appeared. Jiang Cheng inwardly groaned and shifted, cracking his neck to stifle his instinctive scream.
There was no sign of Wei Wuxian. The noises in the kitchen seemed to have died down. Jiang Cheng took a deep breath and convinced himself that he could get through this.
A flurry of characters flashed on the screen; Nie Huaisang laughed out loud, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. Jiang Cheng usually hated this habit. Nie Huaisang’s hand fluttered up often, muffling the bright sound of his laughter. But tonight in the dim glow of the TV Nie Huaisang’s hand was beautifully elegant, his fingers long and slender as they curved over his lips, and Jiang Cheng was almost glad that Nie Huaisang’s lips were hidden. The temptation to touch them, to see if they were as soft and shining as he had dreamed of, was raging at him tonight, made all the more stronger by their close proximity on the couch.
“What do you think of the movie so far?”
Huh? Jiang Cheng had no idea what was even happening. He racked his brain, trying to come up with an answer that would not give him away, when Nie Huaisang spoke again, but this time his voice was low and intimate, a caress that shocked Jiang Cheng’s skin as though he had been hit with bolts of a lightning whip.
“Wanyin, do you think he looks incredibly hot?”
Jiang Cheng tried to suppress his shudder again and failed. Nie Huaisang’s voice was pitched low and smooth, dark and velvety, and Jiang Cheng was helpless against its sudden onslaught on his soul. His name - it was his name in Nie Huaisang’s mouth, his beautiful curved mouth with his pink tongue and plush lips, and it was unravelling him.
He gulped and tried to stifle his inarticulate noises. Nie Huaisang’s lips quirked slowly in a deadly smile, and Jiang Cheng watched helplessly, unable to move, as he raised his left hand to his mouth again in slow motion. His fingers curved and settled over his bottom lip, and the half-smirk that he could see gleaming in Nie Huaisang’s dark purple eyes was - devastating. Absolutely devastating. It was the end of Jiang Cheng, for once and for all. Jiang Cheng had spent years around Nie Huaisang and was going to be undone by one single smirk.
Purely on instinct, Jiang Cheng raised both of his hands to cover his face in shame, and suddenly the air seemed to get more frigid than it had been just a moment ago. Nie Huaisang was no longer smiling. He looked at Jiang Cheng with narrowed eyes, and Jiang Cheng blinked several times to try and settle his heart which was jumping all over the place like one of Lan Wangji’s hyperactive rabbits. It didn’t work, exactly, but it did stop him from levitating off the couch in his mixture of lust and shame.
There was still no sign of Wei Wuxian anywhere in the vicinity, but Jiang Cheng found he no longer cared. He was glad Wei Wuxian had cleared off and left them in peace, even if it meant Nie Huaisang’s attention was all on Jiang Cheng.
It was several seconds before Nie Huaisang spoke once more, and this time his voice sounded… strangled? There was something different to his voice now, and Jiang Cheng took a while to recognise it. Nie Huaisang sounded serious, sounded like he had placed a wager on every word he was letting slip out of his mouth. It was new to Jiang Cheng, who had rarely heard Nie Huaisang speak without the levity that seemed to underlie his very being.
“You really think he’s good-looking?”
Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Of course Nie Huaisang was good-looking. Jiang Cheng was not the poetic type - he left the long, rambling and overly emotional declarations of romantic interest to Lan Wangji and his inexplicable interest in Wei Wuxian - but he was not above admitting to himself that he lay awake at night composing odes to Nie Huaisang’s eyes, his long dark braids, his elegant and shapely hands, his deceptively strong arms, and his lips - oh goodness, the remembrance of the wicked curl of his lips that had kept Jiang Cheng awake at 4 AM on midterms week when the fifth cup of coffee had failed to do the trick.
He opened his mouth to say so, and then shut it again. Nie Huaisang was staring at him now, almost pleadingly, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Nie Huaisang’s hands twitching in his lap.
Something came over him then; the spirit of his mother, perhaps, yelling at him to not be a coward. Or maybe it was the gentle persuasive voice of Jiang Yanli, guiding him forward as he boldly shifted closer to Nie Huaisang on the couch, so much closer that their knees knocked together and Jiang Cheng bit his lip hard enough to taste metallic blood. Nie Huaisang continued to stare at him, his tongue peeking out again from between his teeth. It was the most beautiful sight Jiang Cheng had ever seen.
“Yes,” he whispered, the sounds from the TV having drowned into white noise at the back of his mind. His world narrowed down to Nie Huaisang sitting next to him, his body turned to face Jiang Cheng, his eyes widening and little nose twitching adorably. “You’re very good-looking.” Not the word he would have chosen to describe Nie Huaisang - exquisite, maybe, ethereal for certain - but it would do. Jiang Cheng could only take small steps at a time.
The air between them crackled with tension. Jiang Cheng could hardly bear it as he stared at Nie Huaisang, willing him to make a move and to respond. This was exactly why he had never been so bold before; he had never thought himself capable of it, and never allowed himself to think of what might happen if he ever somehow did.
And then, unexpectedly, Nie Huaisang laughed.
Jiang Cheng sat back, astonished and a little hurt, as Nie Huaisang covered his mouth again in that infuriatingly beautiful manner as he laughed loud and long, drowning out the TV. He had known this was a bad idea - why did he ever bother? Now he would have to get Wei Wuxian’s help to run away for three months and hide out in a graveyard to get over the feeling of his heart shattering at Nie Huaisang’s laughter. And yet he still loved the sound of that laughter - so calculated yet carefree, so contradictory in the emotions it invoked in him. He was not going to cry, for heaven’s sake, He would not cry. He would not -
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nie Huaisang said through his giggles, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes snapped back to him as he lay back on the couch, eyes bright above his hand. Jiang Cheng wanted to trace the lines on the palm of that hand so badly at that moment, more than he wanted anything else. He wanted -
“I was worried you might think the actor’s hot. He looks like da-ge.”
A pause in which Jiang Cheng took in what Nie Huaisang had just said, and this time he did shudder again - he shuddered so hard he nearly fell off the couch in his horror. Not that he had anything against Nie Huaisang’s scary and overprotective elder brother - Nie Mingjue was, objectively speaking, extremely good-looking - but he was also Nie Huaisang’s brother, and just the thought of finding him attractive was almost as scary as the thought of what would happen to him if Mingjue ever found out that Jiang Cheng found Nie Huaisang attractive. It was not a very pleasant possibility.
“No, no!” Jiang Cheng hastened to assure Nie Huaisang, who was gazing at him now with such open warmth and affection in his eyes that Jiang Cheng could feel his entire body turning to mush. “I just - I just meant - “
So much for being brave. Now he’d told Nie Huaisang he was good-looking, and all for nothing. Jiang Cheng groaned and tried to get up from the couch. This business of courage was extremely overrated.
Nie Huaisang reached up, quick as lightning, and grabbed on to Jiang Cheng’s sleeve. Jiang Cheng froze. Nie Huaisang held on to Jiang Cheng’s sleeve with the barest of touches, and yet Jiang Cheng could feel the warmth of his hand on his skin as clearly as though Nie Huaisang had placed it there directly.
“If it makes you feel better, Wanyin -” and there was that low-pitched sensuous voice again, sounding so deep and rich, “I think you’re very, very good-looking, too.”
Jiang Cheng’s brain went offline and his systems shut down. He had been completely unprepared for this - nothing in the world could have prepared him for Nie Huaisang leaning in close, his eyelashes curling so prettily and his voice so deep, telling him he thought he was good-looking. Good-looking! What did that word even mean?! All thoughts had flown straight out of Jiang Cheng’s head. What did Nie Huaisang mean by this? His hand was still skimming over Jiang Cheng’s sleeve, and Jiang Cheng felt he might just explode if Nie Huaisang moved it by just one inch. He did not want to move at all. This was exquisite pain and pleasure, a heady cocktail that he wanted to drink forever and forever.
Nie Huaisang said nothing further, just smiled at him even more wickedly as his tongue darted out again to lick his lips. Jiang Cheng sagged back weakly onto the couch, exhausted beyond all measure, unable to look away as Nie Huaisang continued to stare into his soul. He whimpered, low and weak in his throat. Nie Huaisang’s eyes flashed, and he slowly bent his head forward. Jiang Cheng forgot to breathe.
“I’m back!”
Wei Wuxian bounded into the room, cheerful and excited. Jiang Cheng leapt ten feet into the air and scrambled backwards, misjudging the distance of the couch badly enough to get his feet tangled in the stuffing. He landed on the floor with a shriek, limbs askew. Nie Huaisang had not moved - he was frozen, half leaning into the empty space where Jiang Cheng had been mere seconds ago. His hand was still outstretched, scrabbling uselessly at the air.
“What the absolute fuck, Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng yelled from the floor. He coughed and inhaled the air he’d forgotten to breathe while locked in the moment with Nie Huaisang. The shock had restarted his heart, which he could feel thumping at full force. His cheeks were flushed and he just knew his hair was in disarray, his thick braids coming apart. He refused to look at Nie Huaisang, although he could feel the scratch of the couch as Nie Huaisang slowly slid back upright.
Wei Wuxian looked at Jiang Cheng for a second, and then at Nie Huaisang, and then back at Jiang Cheng. He opened his mouth and then, for perhaps the first time in his life, thought better of it and closed it again. He gaped at Jiang Cheng as Jiang Cheng tried to pull himself together and restore his heartbeat to its normal, pre-Nie Huaisang and pre-Wei Wuxian induced levels.
The movie went on playing in the background, suddenly unbelievably loud. There were yells and threats being spewed on the screen. Jiang Cheng slowly stretched his limbs and sat up, wincing as his shoulder flared with pain.
He could feel Nie Huaisang’s eyes on him, still somehow steady and burning with intensity.
Wei Wuxian grimaced. “I think - I think I’ll just go get you some water, A-Cheng.”
He backed out of the room again, waving his hands wildly and shutting the door. Jiang Cheng got to his feet, gingerly swinging his shoulder about. There was no use blaming Wei Wuxian for this - it was clear that Jiang Cheng should have just kept his mouth shut and said nothing. He should have been content with sneaking glances at Nie Huaisang all night, just like he had for the last five years. Jiang Cheng had tried to do something for once, tried to test the waters, and been forcibly thrown back instead. He had to forget everything that had happened, forget the way Nie Huaisang’s eyes glittered as he leant in, whispering to him, his hand on the edge of his sleeve.
He had to forget - he had to forget he had ever heard Nie Huaisang say, “Wanyin, I think you’re very good-looking.”
He sighed.
“I’m just - I’ll be back,” he said without looking at Nie Huaisang. If he looked at that face again and those lovely eyes and lips, he would lose all his resolve. He turned, cheeks flaming red, away from the couch.
He had taken two steps when Nie Huaisang’s hand latched onto his, a sudden hot weight pressing down far sharper than the pain in his shoulder.
“Wanyin.” Nie Huaisang’s voice was firm, as if he’d come to a decision. Jiang Cheng stubbornly pressed down the little flare of hope rising in his chest at the sound of that voice calling his name.
“Nie-xiong,” he returned, gaze fixed on the opposite wall.
“Wanyin.” Nie Huaisang’s fingers trailed down the length of his palm, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Before Jiang Cheng could blink, Nie Huaisang had slipped his fingers into the spaces between Jiang Cheng’s. Jiang Cheng tried to calm his heart, which had again gone into overdrive.
“Come back and finish watching this movie with me.”
Jiang Cheng felt every little step of his resolve crumble in pieces, shattered by Nie Huaisang’s voice. He turned, half afraid of what he would see in Nie Huaisang’s face. Nie Huaisang only smiled at him, gentle and understanding. He was not teasing him, now. Jiang Cheng smiled back at him involuntarily.
Nie Huaisang led him back to the couch, steady and sure, still holding Jiang Cheng’s hand. The shock of the initial contact had settled into a pleasant warmth that spread from Jiang Cheng’s fingers throughout his entire body, his chest tingling as he sat back down next to Nie Huaisang on the couch. How could he have ever thought this couch was old and shitty? It was a throne, because Nie Huaisang was sitting next to him, so close that Jiang Cheng could feel his heartbeat, strong and certain.
Jiang Cheng turned to the movie. Not even the actor’s resemblance to Nie Mingjue could stop the sparks of joy bursting everywhere in his body as Nie Huaisang drew their joint hands closer together and stroked the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand with his thumb. He gasped quietly, and felt rather than saw Nie Huaisang’s mouth lighting up in a smile - one that he couldn’t cover, because his left hand was firmly entwined with him. Him! Jiang Wanyin!
He turned his head to catch Nie Huaisang’s shy smile. Nie Huaisang did not look away from the TV, but his smile somehow grew bigger. It was the most precious thing in the world. Jiang Cheng gave up on trying to calm his heartbeat and let it stutter as he looked straight at Nie Huaisang’s face.
Nie Huaisang licked his lower lip.
This was it, then. Somehow movie night had come to this - Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, sitting side by side on the couch, holding hands. This was no light graze of a sleeve - their hands were in actual contact, 80% of their surface area touching each other, every trace of Nie Huaisang’s lithe fingers filled with an intent that thrilled Jiang Cheng to his very core. Jiang Cheng looked at the TV in front of him and fought to keep the smile off his face. They hadn’t done anything - they hadn’t spoken of this at all - but Nie Huaisang was here next to him, holding his hand, in an act of courage that Jiang Cheng was determined to match. He would let Nie Huaisang lead the next step - maybe Nie Huaisang would let him slide his hand and touch his round shoulders - but that could come later. The night was still young, and Wei Wuxian seemed to have disappeared again, hopefully for good this time.
Jiang Cheng squeezed Nie Huaisang’s hand, and let himself smile wide.