Lan Wangji is prepared to spend a perfectly calm day with his husband when a harrowed-looking disciple knocks on the door.
”My apologies, Hanguang-jun,” she says. ”There are…” she pauses, visibly searching for words. ”Visitors at the gate.”
”Are they asking for me?” he asks.
”They are foreigners,” the disciple says.
”What?” Wei Ying yells from the bedroom and scrambles to the door in a moment. He’s barely dressed and the disciple flushes, averting her eyes. ”Is there more than one visitor?”
”Five, Senior Wei,” she says, keeping her eyes on her toes. ”And they are weird.”
”Weird how?” Wei Ying asks. He sounds delighted.
Before the disciple has the chance to reply, Lan Wangji says, ”No gossiping.” He gives Wei Ying a sideways look and adds, ”Let the visitors and the guards know that we will be there shortly.”
The disciple nods, bows, and hurries off.
”Lan Zhan, so curt in the morning,” Wei Ying complains. His posture slumps and his robe slides off one shoulder, tempting Lan Wangji to bite his claim on his skin, to cover the areas where his claim is fading. If Wei Ying’s sly smile is anything to go by, he knows exactly what Lan Wangji is thinking. As usual.
”Get dressed,” Lan Wangji says instead of ripping Wei Ying’s robe off and having him right there and then. ”If they are who I suspect they are, you don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Wei Ying’s brows shoot up but he obeys, leaving Lan Wangji to clear tea and haphazard papers off his desk.
The tableau that waits them would make Lan Wangji question his wits if he didn’t already know what to suspect, and even then he pauses for a moment to stare. Next to him, Wei Ying lets out a strangled sound of part outrage, part shock.
”What the fuck?” he murmurs.
It is, despite the vulgarity, a very apt reaction.
On the other side of the gate, stand five people dressed in the strangest selection of mismatched robes Lan Wangji has seen in years. He recognizes Maria Hill, and from her description, he deduces the shorter man with a beard is ”Stark.” The man keeps explaining something agitatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands. Something glows in his chest.
Next to Stark stands a large, fair-haired man with a look of exasperated fondness on his face—a look Lan Wangji knows intimately because it’s something he often wears when dealing with anything Wei Ying related. On Maria Hill’s other side stand two more men, seemingly at ease, but there’s a certain kind of alertness in them. The other has a strange looking bow slung in his back, and the other…hm. He wonders if this is the man Maria Hill talked about? He looks older and frailer than the others, and there’s a strange kind of heaviness hanging over him.
Lan Wangji starts forward and nods at the guards as he passes them. ”Maria Hill,” he greets and inclines his head. ”I am glad to see you again.”
”Likewise,” she says. ”I meant to come with Phil,” she adds wryly, jerking her head at the archer and his companion, ”but he and Clint are a package deal. And then somehow Stark heard about our excursion and invited himself, which meant that Steve would need to come because I’m not taking responsibility for Stark if I can help it.”
”Rude!” the man Lan Wangji had correctly identified as Stark exclaims. He takes a step forward, offers a passable bow, and says, ”Tony Stark, at your service.”
”Unnecessary,” Lan Wangji says, making Wei Ying snort.
”My name is Steve Rogers,” the fair-haired man says. His bow is better than Tony Stark’s. ”My apologies for intruding, but…” his voice trails away.
”Herding Stark in a strange environment with strange magic and technology is a full-time job,” Maria Hill concludes.
”Lies and slander,” Tony Stark gasps with a hand on his chest. ”I need to contact the HR.”
”Good thing I don’t work for you,” Maria Hill deadpans.
Lan Wangji doesn’t understand what HR is but he has a feeling he probably shouldn’t leave Tony Stark and Wei Ying alone and unsupervised.
”Pardon me for not bowing,” the frail-looking man interjects. ”My injury is still acting up at times, and crossing over to your realm seems to have made it worse. I am Phil Coulson and this is my partner, Clint Barton. We’re honored to meet you, Lan Wangji of Gusu Lan.” He inclines his head while next to him, Clint Barton’s bow is one of the best Lan Wangji has ever seen. Interesting.
”Welcome to the Cloud Recesses, the main residence of the Gusu Lan sect,” Lan Wangji says and bows, Wei Ying mirroring him perfectly. ”I am Lan Wangji and this is my husband, Wei Wuxian. Please, follow me.”
He gives Phil Coulson a considering look but decides not to ask if he feels confident he’ll make the climb to the top. Something about the man tells him he’s stronger and more tenacious than he looks—and also, he seems to have a dedicated partner helping him out.
”Your home is beautiful,” Maria Hill says as they make their way up the stairs. ”Very harmonious. Almost ascetic.”
”Mn,” he says. ”Our sect was founded by a monk.”
”Ah,” she says. ”That explains it.”
”—a completely new power source,” Tony Stark says behind them. ”Long story short, there was an accident, something blew up, shrapnels next to the heart, yadda yadda yadda, this magnet keeps the shrapnels from turning my heart into hamburger.”
”I have no clue what half of that even means but it seems interesting,” Wei Ying says, sounding fascinated. ”Can you take it off? Is it a spiritual tool of some sort?”
”I can for a moment, and what’s a spiritual tool? Can I have one?”
”Tony, no,” Steve Rogers sighs.
”Tony, yes,” Tony Stark says. ”Is that what cultivation is? The ability to use spiritual tools?”
”I’m sincerely sorry,” Maria Hill says and rolls her eyes.
”Is he…” Lan Wangji lets his voice trail away and frowns, unsure of how to continue.
”Dangerous?” Maria Hill says. ”Yes. All five of us are dangerous in our own way. I’m a trained operative, Clint is a former assassin and current special agent, Steve is a biologically engineered supersoldier, and while Phil might not look like much, he’s the kind of understated, mild-mannered official who can take you out with a paperclip and a bag of flour.” She pauses. ”Well. Not you, obviously, because you cultivators are kind of superhuman, aren’t you?”
”And Tony Stark?”
Maria Hill glances at him briefly from the corner of her eye before looking forward again. ”Years ago, he was kidnapped and tortured. He built the first version of the device that is keeping him alive in a cave with trash and spare parts. It’s true that he’s a playboy, genius, billionaire, and philanthropist, but that’s nowhere near all he is.”
”Hm,” Lan Wangji says, stealing a look over his shoulder. Tony Stark meets his gaze with a grin and raises a brow. His body language is relaxed, but his eyes are sharp and miss nothing.
He leads them to the second-largest meeting hall and sends one disciple to bring tea and refreshments and another to inform A-Yuan of the guests and ask if he’d like to join them.
”You two have a kid?” Tony Stark asks. ”Can you do that with cultivation?”
Wei Ying cocks his head. ”Hm. Actually—”
Lan Wangji clears his throat, ignoring his husband’s pout. ”A-Yuan is adopted.”
”Oh,” Tony Stark says. He strolls around the room with his hands behind his back, peering at everything and anything. Lan Wangji half-expects him to bat at things like a cat.
”You have a bow,” Wei Ying says to Clint Barton. ”Is that common where you come from?”
”Nah,” the archer says. ”I grew up as a carnie. In a circus,” he adds at Wei Ying’s confusion. ”I performed tricks for paying customers and wow, that came out dirtier than I thought.”
”Tricks?”
Clint Barton shrugs. ”Yeah. Trick shots like hitting a small target from a great distance. My current job also includes stuff like grappling arrows or exploding arrows.”
Wei Ying’s eyes blow wide. ”Exploding—”
”No explosions in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji cuts him off.
”Isn’t that a bit too restrictive?” Tony Stark asks from the other side of the room. He’s holding a scroll upside down and looking at it like it somehow offended him.
”Ah, no,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. ”Lan Zhan is just looking after me. The last time I experimented on stuff, I blew up my workshop and a tree.”
”Were they in contact with your experiment?” Steve Rogers asks.
”I was in the workshop. The tree was right next to Teacher Lan’s office.”
”Uncle did not appreciate the destruction of his favorite tree,” Lan Wangji says dryly.
”Ah,” Steve Rogers says.
Jingyi trails after A-Yuan, and he somehow hits it off with Tony Stark with such fervor that it makes even Wei Ying blink and take a step back. A-Yuan places himself in the vicinity, talking with Steve Rogers while keeping an eye on Jingyi. Wei Ying drags Clint Barton to a friendly archery competition that ends up gathering every Lan junior (and most of the seniors) to watch. There are explosions.
”They’re having fun,” Phil Coulson says softly. He somehow moved silently enough to stand suddenly next to Lan Wangji. Or perhaps he’s just too engrossed in the sharp, delightful smile on Wei Ying’s face.
”Mn,” he says.
”Back in the day, Clint’s stage name was ”World’s Best Marksman,” Phil Coulson continues. ”I bet your husband could’ve given him the run for his money.”
”Wei Ying once shot five arrows at the same time. While blindfolded,” he says and then adds, ”He was a mundane then. No cultivation powers.”
Phil Coulson nods. ”Clint is the only regular human in the team,” he says softly. ”But archery is more about the skill and state of mind than enhanced senses.”
”Mn.” Lan Wangji agrees.
On the clearing, something explodes into a mix of sparkling lights and buzzing…butterflies? Wei Ying lets out a whoop and cackles.
”If I may…” Phil Coulson starts carefully and waits until Lan Wangji inclines his head. ”Maria told me that you and your husband went through something similar to what Clint did with me.”
Lan Wangji’s hand clenches around Bichen. ”Yes.”
”I was prepared to die. I was content to die,” Phil Coulson says, looking at Clint Barton and Wei Ying bickering with increasingly raised voices. ”I didn’t choose to come back but now that I am back, I’m glad. Sometimes I wonder if Clint understands the distinction.”
Lan Wangji swallows around a suddenly dry throat. ”It. Was hard,” he says, haltingly. ”To reconcile. That he did not want to stay.” No. That wasn’t right. ”That he did not see a way. Did not know.”
Wei Ying raises his head and looks at Lan Wangji, and he can practically feel his concern reaching out to him. He makes a small gesture with his hand to tell Wei Ying there’s no need to worry.
”Yeah,” Phil Coulson says. ”For me…I thought I couldn’t come back to him. That he wouldn’t want me to after learning I was alive.” He huffs and shakes his head. ”I was an idiot. Obviously.”
Lan Wangji lets out a non-committal sound.
They fall silent but it’s not uncomfortable. Lan Wangji breathes in the cool, familiar air of his home and relaxes to the sounds of his husband and son and their son’s friend (who often feels like an additional son), content and happy to be alive and with them.
When Phil Coulson lets out a small hiss of discomfort, it feels very natural to guide him to sit in the shade. As he touches him lightly on the elbow, Lan Wangji shivers when he feels a whiff of resentful energy skittering along his sleeve.
”May I?” he asks, holding out a hand.
”Sure,” Phil Coulson says. ”Not that I know what you’re about to do but…”
”Mn,” Lan Wangji says, inclining his head. ”My apologies. I thought I detected a small amount of resentful energy in you.” He lets a sliver of spiritual energy travel through Phil Coulson’s untrained meridians and frowns at the lingering shadows around his heart. He presses his lips into a tight line and manifests Wangji, falling into the familiar routine of Clarity.
”Oh—” Phil Coulson breathes as the notes reverberate through him. ”That’s—”
”Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying calls, and then, ”What’s happening?” from Clint Barton.
Lan Wangji looks at his husband who nods briskly, draws out Chenqing, and joins the music, teasing the resentful energy out with notes flitting and weaving in and out and through Lan Wangji’s playing. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the music, on Wei Ying’s steady presence next to him, on the shadows hissing under Phil Coulson’s skin.
”Hanguang-jun and Senior Wei are helping Phil Coulson,” A-Yuan says calmly. ”Please, don’t disturb them.”
”Is it okay to sit next to him?” Clint Barton asks.
”Not at a touching distance, I’m afraid,” A-Yuan says apologetically. ”In case the resentful energy lashes out. But here—” a pause, ”Yes, this distance is safe. You might feel slightly light-headed, dizzy, or tired yourself but don’t be alarmed. Even when not directed at you, Clarity tends to affect the people nearby. It’s not harmful, and the effects should dissipate in a couple of hours.”
”Okay. Thanks.”
”You are welcome,” A-Yuan says. ”Hanguang-jun, Steve Rogers expressed interest in the texts by Lan Yi. Jingyi and I will take our visitors to the library.”
Lan Wangji hums and concentrates on his playing.
He can already tell by the way Wei Ying is vibrating next to him that there’s something decidedly odd in the resentful energy clinging to Phil Coulson, and that he can’t wait to write his thoughts down.
It’s a long and eventful day.
Phil Coulson and Clint Barton retire for a shichen and re-emerge fresh-faced and full of energy, saying they felt better than they had since whatever happened to them. After A-Yuan and Jingyi give a sword fighting demonstration, Steve Rogers shows them what he can do with a shield, which somehow results in Lan Wangji and Steve Rogers having an arm wrestling competition that Lan Wangji wins. The commotion manages to lure Brother out from his rooms and at some point, Lan Wangji sees him talking with a very serious-looking Tony Stark. (When they later talk about it, Brother merely says that Tony Stark knew how it felt to be betrayed by someone you thought you knew. Lan Wangji doesn’t ask him to elaborate.)
Wei Ying suggests a dinner in Caiyi Town (Brother thanks him for the invitation but declines), and after a short visit to the market for souvenirs, they end up in Wei Ying’s favorite restaurant. Wei Ying orders wine for everyone, then sees the way Tony Stark flinches slightly, and switches the order to tea. There’s way more food than seems realistic even for their party of nine, but then Jingyi challenges Steve Rogers for an eating match and, well.
It’s chaotic and it’s giving Lan Wangji a headache but he ignores it for the look on Wei Ying’s face when he dares Maria Hill to try the spiciest dish and she eats the whole serving while staring at him without blinking.
Lan Wangji talks more and with more people than he has in ages, and while he enjoys it, he already knows he’ll be spending the next several days in silence to recuperate.
When it’s time for their visitors to leave, Lan Wangji leads them to a secluded area outside Caiyi Town. There’s some magic involved; Maria Hill has a tool that can reach through time and space to contact Doctor Strange, who will transport them home—he isn’t interested but he can see Wei Ying is brimming with questions.
”No,” Maria Hill says. When Lan Wangji raises a brow, she shakes her head. ”Dr. Strange is brilliant but if you think Stark is annoying, you’d hate Strange. So, no. I’m not going to ask him to visit so that your husband can pick his brain.”
”Ah.”
”Yeah.” She stops and turns to him. ”Thank you, Lan Wangji,” she says. ”I know we didn’t have much time to talk but I enjoyed our visit. I hope this wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
He thinks for a moment and, to his surprise, realizes it wasn’t. ”No. It was interesting.” He glances at Wei Ying who’s poking at Tony Stark’s glowing chest. ”And Wei Ying enjoyed your company.”
”Your husband is adorable. A bit like a magpie on speed but still adorable.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t know what ”speed” is but the magpie part fits.
She grins and turns to the others. ”Okay, kids, gather up! Time to go back!”
Lan Wangji walks to Wei Ying, A-Yuan, and Jingyi, and together they watch as Maria Hill, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, and Phil Coulson turn and bow as one.
”There’s no place like home,” Tony Stark says and offers a lazy wave at the same time as Maria Hill takes a pendant from under her robes and taps at it. There’s a flash, and a brilliant, sparkling sphere opens up in front of them, and one by one, they walk through.
Maria Hill is the last to leave, and right before she steps into the sphere, she bows.
And then the sphere sparkles, sputters, and winks out.
”Yeah, I get what you meant,” Wei Ying murmurs that night, half asleep on Lan Wangji’s chest. ”She’s a lot like Wen Qing.”
”Mn.”
”Are they going to visit again?”
(Before they left, Maria Hill gave him a small device, round and smooth like a river stone. ”If you feel like it, you can contact me via this. It’s a…hm.” She pursed her lips. ”It’s a communicating device of sorts. It’s keyed on me and can only be activated on this side—a safety measure Strange insisted on.”
”How does it work?”
”You hold it in your hand, and say you want to contact me. It’ll record your message and send it to me.” She shrugged. ”I don’t really know how it works, I just know it does. Oh, and I can only send a reply if you say you want me to reply.”
”Mn.”)
”I don’t know,” he says. ”Would you want them to?”
Wei Ying doesn’t reply. When Lan Wangji cranes his neck to look, he’s asleep.
Well. They can talk about it later.