[closed post -- training]

[onthewillowsthere]

The day after Evil Twin Magnus leaves, Galahad shows up for his training with Lan Wangji exactly as he always does (although later in the day, because Lan Wangji asked him to wait until afternoon to meet) -- if Lan Wangji were going solely on his appearance, he'd see absolutely nothing out of order. He throws himself into the sword forms with his usual focus. But he's gripping the hilt of his sword too tightly, and his movements are tense; he's never graceful, but today he's almost clumsy, and each failure or misstep only seems to pull him tighter, like an overwound watch.

Comments

[lightbearinglord]

He is silent for a moment. The memory is recent enough, and heady enough, to pull at him. Wei Ying teased him all the way down, laughed until there were tears in his eyes at the pink handcuffs with the texture of rabbit fur, picked the lock on the flimsiest pair of handcuffs solely to prove that he could -- and then he went so, so still when Lan Wangji tightened the straps that pinned him, face down, to the table. "Some of it," he says finally.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Good," says Galahad, who understands that in that moment of silence Wei Wuxian has submitted to Lan Wangji all over again in whatever way the room allowed.

[lightbearinglord]

When Lan Wangji meets Galahad's gaze, after another beat, it's a little rueful, though he imagines that he is already, to at least some extent, understood in his distraction. He was better at ignoring it once, because it had been so many years since he had seen Wei Ying alive and because he had never, despite everything that he wanted, seen any of those desires come to fruition. He hesitates, then, and says, with some effort at delicacy, "Is there something you need to ask about it?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"No." He has already gleaned all the information he wanted. He's still curious what some of the implements in that room are for, but that's a question for Claudius, not Lan Wangji. "Thank you," he says, to be polite.

[lightbearinglord]

Uncertain whether he is or is not relieved, Lan Wangji says, again, "You're welcome." He would have felt beholden to answering if Galahad did have questions, because he had no one to ask -- nor would he have asked if he had -- and he wants Galahad to fear the things he wants less than Lan Wangji did, once. He is equally content to let it go and to finish stacking the tea service on its accompanying tray.

[onthewillowsthere]

Another space of quiet. "May I help?"

[lightbearinglord]

He glances at Galahad, abruptly fond again. "You may." But first, after a tiny pause for thought, he asks, "Is it better now?" Even a little.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad nods. "I like talking with you."

[lightbearinglord]

Something warm uncoils behind Lan Wangji's breastbone. He could have guessed that, perhaps, but hearing it aloud is a different matter. "I like talking with you," he says, an echo, but one that he means. "It is familiar."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes. I like the ways we are alike."

[lightbearinglord]

"I thought that there was no one else like me," Lan Wangji says carefully. He is certain Galahad will understand what he means, that he is not attempting to brag about his supposedly peerless cultivation or his skill with a sword.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad nods. He's never met anyone else with his same stilted mannerisms, someone who takes everything too seriously and refuses to tolerate injustice, someone whose face is as inexpressive as his own, someone who is as rigid and devoted to routine and who is loved for it by the people to whom he's devoted himself. Lan Wangji is someone he wants to be more like -- he's never imagined his future much beyond the Grail and death, and he has almost no idea of what he wants to grow into, who he'd imagine himself as an older man, and yet when he looks at Lan Wangji he sees someone he wants to be like as he ages.

[lightbearinglord]

He studies Galahad's face for another moment, allowing himself to linger in affection for him. There was a time when he anticipated that Galahad would never speak with him again, much less trust him, allow his embrace, or come and sit with him in his own bedroom like this. For most of his life, he had accepted being singular and alone in that. It is a fragile gift he has been given.

He stands, then, and picks up the tray of dirty tea components, intending to head for the kitchen with Galahad following. He did ask to help.

[onthewillowsthere]

At once Galahad stands and follows, stopping by the door to slip his shoes back on.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji, in a slightly more domestic mood now, settles for sliding his feet into his house slippers before they go. He does, however, recall Bichen to his side before actually directing them down the stairs to the smaller kitchen he most often uses.

[onthewillowsthere]

And Galahad, of course, has his own sword belted on. He follows quietly, not needing to speak.

[lightbearinglord]

The silence is a pleasant one. Lan Wangji told Claudius that he likes to be around people who talk, and that has not changed, but the companionable quiet and their unspoken understanding is equally welcome. They will pick up training tomorrow, but for now he thinks it will be better to turn their sights to a more mundane task. He leads them to the kitchen and begins carefully washing the teacups, passing each item to Galahad for drying as he finishes.

[onthewillowsthere]

He tries each one with care equal to Lan Wangji's, with a light touch for the delicate porcelain. It feels like a kind of meditation. After a while, Galahad asks, "What was it like when you married Wei Wuxian?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji finishes washing the teapot itself and passes that, too, to Galahad. It gives him a moment to think about how he wants to answer. "We were alone," he says, then. "We had already performed our first two bows in the family shrine at Lotus Pier. Only one remained." It didn't matter that, when he took those two bows with Wei Ying beside him, he barely dared to hope that they meant what he wanted them to mean. He would have married him then if he had thought it was wanted. He would have married him the day he came back to life. "Wei Ying had already threatened to dunk me in a pig's cage for taking him once before we were married. We bowed to each other before the next time."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad tries to imagine Claudius pretending to be annoyed about the myriad ways they've coupled since the first time after Dark, without the sinful, unsanctioned union of their marriage. He's still learning all the ways there are to have sex, and often Claudius is the one taking him -- taking his cock worshipfully between those smiling lips, taking his mouth with one hand knotted in his wild hair, taking his hole while he sits atop Claudius' slim hips, touching himself and Claudius with all the wonder of tasting some God-made fruit for the first time. Galahad always feels in control of this taking, though: all this pleasure is his because Claudius loves him, because Claudius would give him anything. When he's ready-- A faint thrill goes through him. On their wedding night, he'll take his bride. He feels his cheeks flush, imagining it, imagining Claudius--

"What do the bows signify?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji notices Galahad's flushed face, naturally, but he would never draw attention to such a thing. "The first is to the heavens and the earth," he says. "The second is to the parents. The last is to each other."

[onthewillowsthere]

"A sign of respect?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn. It is a deep bow performed while kneeling, one of especial respect."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Did you make vows?"

[lightbearinglord]

"We had already said everything we needed to say." A fleetingly tender look crosses his face, a memory of the sweetest part of Guanyin Temple.