Work Text:
The organic chemistry final was three weeks ago. Wei Wuxian still isn't over it.
"I'm just saying," he announces, sliding into the seat across from Lan Wangji in the campus library, "the grading curve was biased."
Lan Wangji doesn't look up from his laptop. "The grading curve was mathematical."
"Exactly. Math is biased."
"That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense if you're me." Wei Wuxian drops his head onto the table. "I studied for forty-eight hours straight. I ate nothing but instant noodles and spite. And you," he lifts his head, pointing accusingly, "you probably meditated for ten minutes and aced it."
"I meditated for thirty minutes."
"THIRTY."
Lan Wangji finally looks at him. His expression is neutral, but there's something dancing in his eyes. "You also slept through the first fifteen minutes of the exam."
"I was resting my eyes."
"You were snoring."
"I do not snore."
"The professor asked if you needed medical attention."
Wei Wuxian groans, dropping his head again. "I hate you. I hate you so much."
The corner of Lan Wangji's mouth twitches. "You came to sit with me."
"Because I hate you."
"You brought your textbook."
"To study. Alone. In your general vicinity. Which I hate."
"Mmm." Lan Wangji pushes his coffee across the table---the same coffee he always drinks, black, no sugar, Wei Wuxian's favorite order even though he won't admit it. "Drink."
Wei Wuxian eyes it suspiciously. "This isn't poisoned?"
"Would I poison you before the final grade release?"
"After?"
Lan Wangji's eyes soften, just barely. "Never."
Wei Wuxian takes the coffee. Their fingers brush. He doesn't pull away.
It's been like this for months. The bickering, the stolen glances, the way Lan Wangji always saves him a seat in the lecture hall even though he never asks. The way Wei Wuxian has memorized every version of Lan Wangji's "disapproving" face: the real ones, the fake ones, the one that means I'm pretending to be annoyed but I'm actually happy you're here.
"This is stupid," Wei Wuxian says, suddenly quiet.
"What is?"
"Us. This." He gestures vaguely between them. "We're supposed to be rivals. Academic enemies. You're the quiet, perfect genius who makes me look bad, and I'm the chaotic disaster who drives you up the wall."
"I don't drive you," Lan Wangji says. "I help."
Wei Wuxian's heart does something inconvenient. "Help what?"
Lan Wangji holds his gaze. "You're not a disaster. You're brilliant. You just don't believe it."
The words land somewhere deep in Wei Wuxian's chest. He opens his mouth to deflect, to joke, to do something, but nothing comes out.
Lan Wangji's hand covers his. Warm. Steady.
"Thirty minutes," Lan Wangji says. "I'll quiz you on next week's material. Then we can study together."
"Together?"
"Together." A pause. "Unless you hate that too."
Wei Wuxian looks at their hands. At the way Lan Wangji's thumb is tracing slow circles on his knuckles. At the quiet, patient certainty in his eyes.
"I don't hate it," Wei Wuxian whispers. "I don't hate any of it."
Lan Wangji's grip tightens. Just a little.
"Good," he says. "Drink your coffee."
Wei Wuxian laughs, shaky and bright. "You're so bossy."
"Someone has to be."
He drinks the coffee. It's perfect.