Thread by @Onomato_poetic

Part 2 of my modern MDZS AU #XiXian fic!

Premises: previous WangXian, intersex Lan Xichen

CW: terminal illness and death (LWJ), grief, pregnancy, anxiety, dysphoria

Start of part 1:

https://twitter.com/Onomato_poetic/status/1490597184995217408?s=20&t=O2y8Xo4BUZdWPh7sCf1FXw

Please note that we're making a POV switch, from WWX to LXC!

lxc wakes up in his bed in the comforting darkness of early morning, a few days after the dinner at jyl's. he's alone in the bed - in his flat, even - because nhs had asked wwx out for a dragshow last night, and lxc thought it'd be a good opportunity to get some time on his own.

it's not even six in the morning and, given how they are rapidly approaching mid-november, still dark outside, except for the shine of streetlights below. lxc turns over onto his back, careful to stay under his warm covers, and with his eyes closed lets one hand trail slowly

down, from the hollow between his collarbones, over his chest (grateful, so ridiculously grateful, that there is still no sign of breasts happening) and down. down to where his stomach once flattened, almost dipped, but now swells under his hand, gently but undeniably rounded.

he has a belly. a bump.
his body has always been different, he's always known that, but it has never *changed*. not like this, reshaping itself into a new form, unasked.
he can't feel the difference very clearly yet when he walks, it isn't big enough to restrict his movements

when he goes through his everyday motions, but like this? it feels like someone else's body.
he lets his hand go lower still, slip in between his folds and, with a questing finger tip, tease the clit. he isn't hard, not yet, but he knows he can get there, and it won't take much.

he fucks himself on his fingers until he can feel himself teetering on the edge of climax, and then pauses. one swipe with a finger, another one, just to send waves of pleasure-need-pain through his warm, waking body, for minutes, before he gets himself off, his moans loud

in the otherwise quiet flat.
he showers, unable both to look at the protruding shape where his usual stomach should be, and to look away from it. he steals glances, instead, as though it might disappear if he looks away, but of course it doesn't. it stays, through washing and

towelling off and getting into soft clothes for his morning yoga. the trousers, despite the stretch, are beginning to feel tight.
he wishes they wouldn't.
as he works through the positions, one by one, he tries to disentangle all these thoughts and feelings from each other, but

to little avail. he feels... off, is all. off-kilter. skewed. jarred. he's felt that way ever since the sunday dinner when he and wwx told jyl's family about the pregnancy. their reaction was... probably not the worst, in the end they were all supportive, but

lxc feels a pang of longing for his uncle, suddenly, for family of his own to share the news with. but lqr, the last of his generation, died over two years ago, a few months before lwj received his diagnosis, and there are no other close relatives left. no one to

lean closer and put their hand over his and look him in the eye and ask "and what about you, xichen? how are you feeling about all of this?"
not that he would know what to answer.
it's been years, decades, since he last felt dysphoric at all, but that respite has obviously

come back with a vengeance. he is torn between being fascinated with how the pregnancy could even happen at all and all the changes his old, ill-suited body is already making to accommodate this new life, and sick with dread over what will happen as it does.

if he looks at his own body with detachment today, what will he feel looking at it in a month, or in three, or five? how will others look at it, what will they see, what will they think, when they see him?
he isn't sure he wants to know.

he would prefer if he would never have to find out.
he wipes the tears from his cheeks and rolls up his yoga mat.

he's in no hurry; he's meeting wwx later today, after lunch, for the scheduled ultrasound, and has taken the whole day off. his colleagues, just like his boss,

have been more supportive than he had expected, but there have been more than a few glances in his direction and conversations ending when he's entered a room, and he's not sure he could face that today. to be fair, there have also been words of congratulations and encouragement

and support, and promises that any questions he might have will be answered by all the women with kids in his department of the company, but to be honest, he's not sure he could take that, either, today.
so instead of packing a lunch and heading for the office, or making himself

a cup of tea to sit down in front of his computer and start the morning with answering e-mails, lxc puts on warm clothes and knitted hat and gloves, and leaves his flat to make a visit.

[break]

the cemetery is quiet as he gets off the bus. there are other visitors, of course, mostly older women with walkers, in neat little shoes and gloves, but it's the middle of the week, barely past ten, and people don't really visit cemeteries here, do they?

he stopped for breakfast on the way here, tea and sandwich and a fruit salad, and the sun has risen high enough by now to be casting some faint rays of light through the naked trees. it's dry, for november, but there can be no doubt that autumn is over and winter is here.

the gravel crunches underneath his feet as he makes his way over the by now already familiar paths, leaving the gates behind and up the gentle rise the brings him up to and just beyond a hill. there, in the second most recent row on the slope, is the spot.

the square of turned soil is gone now, covered with the new grass that grew in while he and wwx were abroad, and the little plaque that stood there at first has recently been replaced by a stone.
lxc sinks to his knees in front of it.

he's been here so many times already, and the sight of the stone is both achingly familiar and dizzyingly unreal.
grey stone, words and characters carefully cut into the slab, spelling out a name lxc has carried in his heart for as long as he can remember and two life-changing

dates.
'here rests lan wangji' he traces with one gloveless fingertip, each letter sharp and clean cut under his touch. 'beloved husband, father, brother, friend.'
and underneath it, a legend. a quote, one that lwj chose himself.
'i love you 'til the end.'

lxc's fingers tremble as he reaches those words, makes him shake so badly he must pull his hand back and hold it, lest he fall apart right here on the grassy slope.

it had been a few weeks after the news, maybe a month, one and a half, lxc doesn't remember. he doesn't remember much from that time; the days passed in a blur as he tried to take in, tried to understand, that his brother was going to die. that there was no medicine, no care,

no wish, *nothing* lxc could do to save him.
he remembers trying to keep his fear and sorrow to himself, to give wangji and his family the space they needed to process the news together, to not impose on them, and how with each passing day he had felt more and more hollowed out.

wangji had called him one day and asked for them to meet up, watch a movie. it wasn't that uncommon, though they'd usually meet up for lunch if it was just the two of them, and wangji had insisted on coming to lxc's.
lxc hadn't been able to say no.

he'd never been able to refuse lwj anything, but it was even more impossible now, with the knowledge that his brother was going to die, caught in his throat like a lump.
so lwj had come over and lxc had seen his drawn, slightly pained expression for what it was, and teared up

right there in the middle of the hall. lwj had patted his shoulder, as unsure as lxc felt, and had stepped into the kitchen to make tea. he had brought a movie as well, and when lxc asked about it, lwj had made an expression even lxc couldn't intrepret.

"it is- something i would like to show you. it is important to me."
and how could lxc say no?
to be quite honest, he didn't get it at first. here was his brother, newly diagnosed as terminally ill, with no one knew how long left to live, and he wanted to watch

a 15 year old straight romcom?
but then he got it. and he cried.
one lover torn from the other by terminal illness. letters left behind, friends and family coming together and being pushed away, over and over like waves against a shore, as grief wore its way through the

surviving lover, as she had to learn how to live again, even while mourning. the love, endless and infinite as the sea.
"why did you want me to see this?" he had asked after, as the postcredits rolled past to the sound of another tearjerking ballad. his voice was thick and

his eyes stung with tears, and there were crumpled tissues on the coffee table - his and wangji's both - and he needed to know why his brother would put him through this, too.
"because i am worried, and because i want to ask you a favour."

"are you planning to leave letters for wei wuxian? i'm not sure i can play the role of the mother, wangji."
"no." lwj had shaken his head and, mystifyingly, placed a hand on lxc's knee. "xiongzhang, if it's my lot to play the role that dies,which of the other characters are you?"

lxc had blinked at him.
"well- if not the mother, then- i don't know, wangji. i don't know."
his brother had bit his lips and looked at him searchingly for several long moments before he said:
"i worry that you will be the main character."

lxc hadn't known what to think, how to react. the main character, the lover, the *widow*? no. no, no, what was lwj thinking?
he sat frozen in his seat, terrified and confused and wishing he could just understand, and lwj's hand was still on his knee, and one day it would never be

again, and it was too much, all too much.
"xiongzhang" lwj had said again, so quietly that lxc couldn't help but look at him again. "you are my only living relative, which means that i am your only living relative as well. wei ying has his family, his friends, his colleagues

at work. he has you. he will hurt but he will heal. but what about you?"
lxc had inhaled sharply, a wet, horrible sound, and his eyes had burned as new tears welled up in them.
"i cannot leave letters for you" lwj had continued, something urgent in his voice lxc didn't want to

recognise. "i do not know whom i could entrust with them. who i could entrust with you. who will help you grieve? who will be there to stand by your side as you find your footing again?"
lxc remembers shaking his head, remembers closing his eyes and feeling his brother's hands on

his cheeks.
"i am going to need you, xiongzhang. wei ying and a-yuan will need you as well. who will you need? who will be there for you as you need them to be?"
"you" lxc had managed, raw and hoarse and desperate. "i need you."

hot tears in streaks down his cheeks, that burning lump in his throat, the hollowness in his chest.
"don't die" he had whispered against his lwj's shoulder as wangji held him, as he held on to his brother like a drowning man to a piece of flotsam. "please, wangji, you

can't. don't die, don't leave me, please, please..."
"i have no choice" lwj had said at some point, and he was crying too. "you know that if i did, this would never be it."
"i know. i know, i know, but- what will i do? what will i do without you?"

lwj's hand in his hair, on the back of his head, holding him and pressing a kiss to his temple as though he were a child, and lxc had trembled, hugged him closer, desperate for any comfort, no matter how small.
"i do not know" wangji has whispered back. "but i think we should try

to find out."

lwj had stayed over that night. for the first time since they were children, they slept in the same bed, close together, entangled not like lovers but like two parts of a whole, desperate not be separated. lxc had heard about otters, holding hands in sleep so as

not to drift apart on the ocean's waves, and maybe that was it. maybe the ocean was time, was inevitable death slowly but surely biding its time until their grip on each other slipped and they would be pulled apart.
not that night, though. lxc had slept and awakened, slept and

awakened, and every time he woke with a start and a gasp, wangji was there still. not whole, not well, but there still.
lxc had breathed in his brother's scent, his warmth, and couldn't fathom that one day they would be gone.

and here he is now, kneeling on the dying grass of a slope in the grey november light, in front of his little brother's grave.
'love you 'til the end'.
lwj had chosen that quote, over all the high-brow ones, all the poems and classical texts he had known and loved. that one,

single line of a song, played over and over in a movie about death and grief and about letting go, as a message. not only to lxc, he knew that. it was a message for wei ying and a-yuan, whom he had also shown the same movie, but it was for lxc, too. a reminder, a wish.

"i love you" he had whispered that night, over and over, more times than lxc had ever heard him say those words before, even to wwx. "i love you, xiongzhang, until the very end, but do not let my end be yours, as well."
"i love you too" lxc had said then; says now, too, reaching

out to touch the stone again. "i love you, didi. and i promised that i would try, but i am just not sure this is how you meant for it to happen."

[break]

he feels like an imposter, a thief.
as though the moment their grip on each other slipped and the ocean pulled them apart; the moment his brother left the stage of his life for a moment, lxc stepped into it and assumed his role.

to live in his house, cook food in his kitchen, keep his shoes and clothes and toothbrush where lwj once kept his. to sleep next to lwj's husband, to kiss him and hold him and fuck him, to be brought to family dinners as his partner.
to become a parent with him.

all of these roles, these functions, used to belong to lwj, and lxc used to always try to let his brother have his own things. there was a time when they were children when lwj had nothing of his own; no interests, no hobbies, no friends - all he had came through lxc.

and lxc, worried that his brother would grow up feeling alone, had encouraged him to develop those interests while at the same time taking a step back from them. had given up music for art, had invited a teenage wwx to lwj's recitals, had tried to give him things of his own.

now, their situations are reversed.
so much of what lxc has, comes from lwj. a-yuan. wwx. and through wwx, friends, family. the few people lxc once counted as his own, his closest, dearest friends, have long since left him.

the questions lwj asked him that night, lxc failed to answer them, failed to complete the task lwj set him. lwj wanted him to find people to call his own, someone who could be there for him to lean on, to support him, when lwj was gone.
lxc didn't.

he sat with his brother through tedious treatment visits at the hospital, cooked dinners for his family, laundered innumerable rounds of sheets and towels from night sweats and sick. listened to concerts with him, read with him, learned to wash him and turn him,

to care for him in ways that he, despite their forty years together in this life, had never known before. the more time passed, the worse lwj turned, the closer lxc stayed. worked from their kitchen table, spent the nights there, sometimes sitting by the bedside, sometimes

lying next to his brother, holding him through his night terrors and pain.
there was already so little time left for the most important relationship of life; how could he have spared any of it to find new people, build new relationships?
so he hadn't.

and here he is, pregnant with lwj's husband's child, living in his house, having family dinners with his in-laws. living *his* life.
lxc swallows against the wave of emotion that rises within him as he remembers last sunday, jzx's unfortunate comment.

he knows, intellectually, that jzx probably didn't mean to imply that lxc and wwx might have cheated on lwj before his death. knows that these changed circumstances are even more new to others than they are to lxc himself, that people in his life will want to understand

it still hurt.
he doesn't want people to see him that way, as a cheater, someone who took his brother's husband from him as he lay dying between them, someone who could hardly wait for lwj to die before he took over his life, his house, his husband - when nothing could be

farther from the truth.
he would give all of this up in an instant, if he could have his brother back.
"i'm sorry" he whispers. "i didn't mean for this, either."
he wishes he could say he doesn't know how it happened, but that would be a lie. he knows.

they were both lonely, grieving, desperate for someone to hold and for someone to hold them in turn. both of them missing someone, missing the same someone, someone who wasn't there and never would be again, and they were the closest thing either of them had to him who was gone.

of course they sought comfort with each other.
and lwj had said wwx would need him, had said lxc would need someone too. well, he was right in that, as he was in so many things about them, but lxc still doesn't think this was quite how he pictured things to turn out.

"i hope you will forgive me, one day" lxc says, caressing the engraved words on the stone one more time, before he pushes off from the ground, rises, and with one last glance at the grave, turns around and walks away.

[break]

lxc arrives at the hospital much too early for his appointment, entirely by design. just like most people, he doesn't like hospitals per se, but over the course of his brother's illness, he learned to find a sense of calm there, and connection.

he goes to the ground floor cafeteria, the one that stays open around the clock. he can't remember how many hours he's spent here, waiting, waiting, waiting. there is always hot water for tea, and snacks and sandwiches, even breakfasts and hot meals,

and no questions if you look as though you just sat through an ambulance ride and then cried your heart out when you finally got here. just an acknowledging look, maybe a smile, an "i'll bring it out for you, shall i?"

today, he buys lunch and tea, and retreats to one of the tables by the wall. it's a good place, not only because the sense of support and solidity the wall provides, but because of the view it gives him of the cafeteria and the people passing through.

there are always people passing through.
and just like with the staff, there is a sense of... community. you don't need to know what someone is going through, why they're here or what they're waiting for, it's enough that you are here, and in that one small way, you are the same.

what else could you possibly need to know?
once he's finished eating, he pushes the plate aside and picks up his sketchbook and pencils instead. he doesn't have an idea in mind, not really, so as usual when he finds his hands itching but his mind unsettled,

he begins to sketch the things around him. chairs, tables, the salt and pepper shakers, their lines and curves and shadows grounding him, reminding him that he too is here, present and physical.

by the time wwx joins him, he has moved on to sketching people. he's working on the position of a woman playing with her dog, trying to get the angle of bent knees correct, when there's movement suddenly in the periphery of his vision and someone plops down on the chair

opposite him with a loud: "found you!"
it's wwx, of course. they'd agreed to meet in the cafeteria, and it's not like lxc was actively hiding, so there's no wonder that he's here. that's not what makes something within lxc, something small and ugly, seize at the casual way wwx

drops into his chair. no laugh, no hand to his hair or cheek or shoulder, no kiss... and why should there be?
"wow, how long have you been here?" wwx leans forward and starts riffling among the papers lxc has torn from his sketchbooks and left on the table.

lxc is happy to let him, happier still to see wwx reach for a pencil without thought. "can i doodle on this?"
"go ahead."
the unease melts away and is replaced by a sense of warmth. this is familiar, safe: wwx picking up one of lxc's discarded sketches, adding a vase of flowers

to a table, a steaming pie to a windowsill. they haven't done this in a long time. years, probably.
they probably shouldn't do it now, either. they have an appointment.

"we should probably head upstairs though" he says, feeling a stab of guilt when wwx moues in protest but puts the pencil down again. another time, lxc tells himself. they'll be able to share this another time.

[break]

it is a familiar walk, following the painted green line in the floor through corridors and up elevators, to get to the right wing. lxc couldn't say how many times he has followed it, but just like sitting in the cafeteria and allowing himself to be carried by the way people and

time simply exist in a hospital, the familiarity of it soothes him.
they don't go to the midwife right away, but to the wing of the hospital building that houses the unit specialised in the care of trans, non-binary and intersex people.

the waiting area is slightly cosier here than the ones in the wards where lwj once received care - no one is being treated for illnesses here, after all - but lxc walks past it, headed for an open door further down the corridor, on the frame of which he knocks lightly.

"lan xichen!" dr. miranda says with a smile as she sees him, getting up from the chair. she shakes his hand with both of hers, a gesture that perfectly balances the familiar and the professional. "welcome, come on in, both of you."

she ushers both of them inside and closes the door behind them.
"dr. miranda, this is wwx" lxc introduces them, "wwx, this is dr. miranda, my gp."
"wei wuxian" the doctor repeats, shaking his hand as well, "how nice to meet you. my name is jacinta miranda, and my pronouns are

she and they. how may i adress you?"
"umm, wei wuxian is fine" wwx says after a moment's hesitation. "he, him for pronouns."
"thank you. come in, sit down."
they take their seats in the small armchairs that take up most of the available space in the room, wwx gingerly so,

lxc with that same sense of calming familiarity.
this, he knows. he's been here before.
"there we go" the doctor says as she too sits down. "i'm very glad we could meet up before your ultrasound appointment. wwx, has lxc told you anything about me or my role here?"

"um, not really" wwx says with a glance in lxc's direction. "only that we were going to see you."
lxc gives him an apologetic smile. it's not as though he's tried to hide anything from wwx, but although he knew dr. miranda wanted to see them both, and has some idea

of what she might want to speak with them about, that is all.
"okay. well, as we've previously established, i'm a gp and i've worked with lxc since... is it seven years, now?"
"eight" lxc supplies.

"eight years. and part of what i do here, at this unit, is normal gp stuff, so i serve as the first point of contact for most kinds of care, and i can do referrals either within the unit or to other units if and when there's a need. what's perhaps a bit special

about working as a gp on this particular unit, is that i also function as a kind of coordinator for patient care within the hospital. for any kind of treatment or care that we cannot provide ourselves here, i can act as a support function, not only referring patients but also

accompanying them to appointments, take notes, and so on."
"that's... pretty cool" wwx says. "i didn't know gp's did that."
"it's not very common, no" dr. miranda agrees, "but we've discovered that our patients here are much more likely to seek care if it's from someone they

won't have to come out to, or if they know they'll be called by the right name and pronouns. and for some, there are aspects of their medical history that can affect what treatments work better for them, but that are difficult to keep track of yourself."

"this is why i wanted to come home" lxc adds, more for wwx's benefit than the doctor's. "i could call dr. miranda and ask for help to determine what was going on with me, and i knew i wouldn't have to start from scratch."
"yeah, that makes sense."

"and i'm very glad you did" dr miranda adds. "and as i've understood it, the reason that you're here today, wwx, is that you will be involved during this pregnancy, and later in the child's life?"
another quick glance from wwx to lxc, before wwx looks back at the doctor and nods.

"yep. i mean, yes, that's the plan."
"noted. and how should i refer to you, in relation to the child?"
"umm..."
"i wish to be referred to as a father" lxc says, to help him out. "i believe that's how you wish to be referred to as well?"

"oh! yes! father, father's good. or dad, or, you know, any variety thereof. baba, probably, though we haven't talked about that-"
he's babbling, lxc notices, and he can't help but smile at him, ridiculously glad that wwx is nervous about it, what he'll get to call himself.

"fathers, then" the doctor concludes. "good. now, lxc has asked me to accompany you to see the midwife today, just to follow up on when we were last there, and i'll be taking some notes and make sure that if you have any questions that neither the midwife nor i can answer today,

they'll be written down so we can find out. i hope that sounds okay to you?"
wwx nods.
"sure, more than okay."
"good. i'll also make sure to give you my number before we leave, so you can contact me if you have questions or need to get in contact for some other reason."

she pauses, places her hands in her lap. "i do wish to make it clear, however, to both of you and at the same time, that i am your gp, lxc. your health and wellbeing are my primary concerns here. i won't disclose any information about you to wwx that you have not allowed me to,

and there may be times when i ask to speak with you alone."
this time it's lxc's turn to nod. she's already told him as much, but he appreciates it nonetheless, that where she's concerned, it's about him, and any decisions are up to him to make.

"now that that's settled" she continues, unclasping her hands, "i'd just like to catch up before we head over to the midwife's. how've you been since i last saw you, lxc?"
"better" lxc replies truthfully. "the nausea has subsided considerably, and i feel more rested after sleep."

"i'm glad to hear it" dr. miranda says, "those are good signs. and what about emotionally and mentally?"
he cannot answer this question right away. he's not surprised that she asked - she usually does whenever he fails to volunteer that information - and he doesn't think that

answering her question truthfully would shock or even surprise wwx, but...
"i still feel conflicted" he says after a few moments. "not about keeping the baby, but about all the changes it brings with it. i told my boss last week, and my colleagues the other day. we've ordered

some new clothes, but i haven't started wearing them yet."
he should; it's not just his yoga trousers that are beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. it just feels like a hurdle.

"it seems like there is a lot going on all at once" dr. miranda says. "it's okay to feel torn, though, and to take your time with those things you can."
"thank you. i'm glad you're able to join us today." he glances at wwx, at dr. miranda, then back at wwx again. "that you'll

both be there with me."
wwx grins at him, the most open expression he's shown since he walked into this office.
"of course! i've never been to an ultrasound before, and this is our baby. i wouldn't want to miss it for anything."

lxc smiles at him almost before he registers the warm feeling in his chest, but he doesn't have time to say anything before dr. miranda puts her hands flat down against her thighs.

"speaking of missing it" she says, glancing at her watch, "we should probably start making our way there. let me just grab my notebook."

it's another five minutes' walk to reach the maternity center of the hospital, a walk which is mostly spent with casual smalltalk. lxc can't quite help the tension that sneaks into his shoulders and hands, the apprehension he feels the closer they get to where they're going, but

it helps that wwx and dr. miranda are both there. the last time he was here was also in dr. miranda's company, but they didn't know, then. it was one more test to confirm or deny what they thought was going on, and he was feeling ill and exhausted and terrified, and more than

anything else, alone. he doesn't feel that way today.
it is the same midwife as last time, a woman in her thirties, and she greets lxc with a smile and asks how he's been since. she's kind, and strange as it may sound, he's glad that she doesn't seem to try too hard.

she greets wwx without any strange pauses or comments, and uses his preferred pronouns when answering one of dr. miranda's questions, and talks about pregnant people as though that is how she usually speaks, like it isn't just for his benefit.

still, lying back on the reclining couch and baring his midsection is not exactly comfortable. the gel feels cold on his skin, and although the only other people in the room are all people who already know that he is pregnant, two of which are health professionals and the other

is the man who not only knocked him up but apparently finds his belly irresistibly sexy, it still doesn't stop him from wanting to cover himself again. he looks... feels... bloated. wrong.

"there, all set" the midwife says and reaches for the probe. "just another minute, and we'll have a look at your baby."
"our baby" wwx repeats next to him, wonder in his voice, and lxc startles.

he'd almost forgotten wwx was there, somehow, which shouldn't be possible given that wwx's smile is as bright as the sun in the dimly lit room. "did you hear that, xichen-ge? *our baby*, on that little screen there."

"yeah..." lxc hears himself answer faintly.
"of course, you've already seen them" wwx continues, a slight teasing quality to his voice, "but i haven't! i've never been to an ultrasound before."
"i haven't." lxc shakes his head. "seen the baby."

"what? why? didn't you say-?"
"there wasn't much to see when you were last here" the midwife says, voice light but reassuring as she moves the probe in increments over his stomach, her full attention on the screen. "but they'll have grown a fair bit since then. almost there."

"i didn't want to" lxc adds, quietly. he doesn't know why he says it, but it's solely for wwx's benefit. dr. miranda and the midwife already know. "i didn't know what to do."

"hey..." wwx scoots a little closer on his chair, puts his hand over lxc's and braids their fingers together. "it's okay. you're not alone in this, remember? we'll figure it out."

the sting of tears in his eyes, wwx's arms around him and wwx's hand in his hair, on his back, and that reassuring whisper of 'i'm not going anywhere, i'm right here, you're not alone, you're not alone...'
he squeezes wwx's hand.

"xichen?" the midwife asks. "would you like the watch the screen today?"
part of him is relieved, even grateful, that she asks about the screen and not the baby. grateful that she asks so open-endedly, even when he's the one who asked for the appointment.

another part of him holds on to the hand in his, the promise of family and togetherness, and not being alone anymore.
"yes" he nods, lips and throat dry as he speaks the words, "yes, i'd like to see the baby, please."

he thinks maybe he stops breathing as he turns his head towards the screen, and the midwife turns the screen towards him. next to him, wwx inhales slowly, before letting out an almost inaudible "woooow."
wow.

blurred lines and fields of whiteish grey on black, amorphous shapes bulging and contorting, but in the center of the screen, unmistakeably, a baby.
it looks just like every other ultrasound image he's ever seen - on tv, in textbooks, on the websites he's been furiously

studying this past month: a small body-shape, curled up like a comma. there is nothing about this image that sets it apart from any other unborn baby. nothing to suggest that this child is in any way connected to him.

except when the probe moves, and the image shifts.
"they appear to be sleeping" the midwife says. lxc hears her as if from a distance, or through a wall, muffled. "this here, this is their arms. they've pulled them up in front of their face, but i can't quite tell-"

she adjusts the probe again. "ah, there we go. they're sucking their thumb."
next to him, wwx coos, but lxc only barely registers it. absent-mindedly he moves his free hand to the top of his bared stomach, feels the hard, rounded curve, and on the screen, the blurry baby-shape

pushes with their feet.
it's not a kick, nothing that can be felt at all, it's just a coincidental little jerk of muscles and he knows it is, but for the first time, he sees it.

"that's my baby?" he asks stupidly, but he really needs to make sure.
"yes" the midwife says with a softly smiling note to her voice. "that's your baby."
his baby.

there. inside him, alive and growing, sleeping and sucking their thumb, and his. his and wwx's, yes, and one day they'll be their own person, but right now they're *his*, in a way no one ever has been before, and they need him.

what is another six months of discomfort, to that?
"wuxian, did you hear that?" he asks, but he can't shift his gaze away from the screen. "that's our baby."

wwx's hand closes tighter around his own, and when he speaks, his voice is close by and very, very warm.
"yeah" he whispers. "would you look at that?"

[break]

the rest of the appointment passes in something of a blur. lxc cannot take his eyes of the blurred little shape on the screen, the way it's curled up, hands in front of its face, shifting ever so slightly now and then, kicking once, twice.

it's healthy, he catches that much, and seems to be growing steadily. the midwife asks if he would like to hear the baby's heartbeat. when they leave 30 minutes later, he cannot stop hearing it.

wwx brings him back to the house, chattering the whole drive - about the baby first, and then about his students, and about a-yuan. he doesn't stop talking until they're at the house, and he ushers lxc into the living room where lxc sits down on the couch,

looking down at the printed photo in his hand. he hasn't been able to let go of it since the midwife gave it to him - she had asked if he wanted one, he had asked for two.
"one for us each" he had said. he doesn't know where wwx put his, but lxc is holding on to his own.

the couch cushion dips as wwx sinks down next to him, and then there's a blanket over his shoulder and a warm mug pressed into his free hand, the scent of tea wafting through the air.
"it's real" he says. "they're real."

he hadn't planned on saying anything, he doesn't even really know what he means, but he feels wwx sidling up closer to his side, the touch of a hand on his arm.
"yeah. they're there."

*it's there*. the words incapsulate so well the way he has felt since he got his suspicions confirmed. where before there was nothing, the baby is there, now. here, becoming more and more real with every change in his body, every new piece of evidence of their existence.

their image. their heartbeat.
undeniably alive.
he wants to protect them. hold them in his arms, shield them from all hurts and dangers of the world, like he tried and failed to shield his little brother. and he knows, obviously, that this baby isn't wangji, that they are their

own person, and that there is only so much he can do. but he can do the most important things: he can give them food and clothes and toys, shelter. hugs and tummy-tickles and lullabies. listening ears and gentle hands and open arms. a home. love.
and he won't be alone in it.

wwx is here, *wants* to be here, not only for the baby but for lxc as well. and then there's a-yuan, who will be a fiercely protective big brother, and yanli-jie and her family, a whole pack of older cousins, something lxc himself never had.

he turns to wwx, looks properly at him for the first time in hours, and wwx meets lxc's gaze with his own, warm and dark and tinged with concern.
"do you think it's possible?" he asks. "to love them already?"
"yeah" wwx smiles. "i know i do."

[break]

things change after that day, as though the ultrasound appointment marks the end of one thing and the beginning of another. lxc doesn't notice at first, but the feelings of anxiety, loneliness and fear that have clouded his mind ever since he returned back home, begin to recede,

and leave room for other things.
so many things have happened in such a short time: finding out about the pregnancy, telling wwx and deciding to keep the baby and raise it with him, and then telling a-yuan and the family and his boss and colleagues,

and deciding to try and live in his brother's house and asking wangji's spirit for forgiveness for all of it... after all of that, all that remains, is to do it. begin living that life.

he begins by going back to his apartment, to pack some of the things that might make the house feel more like home to him. a few of his favourite books, some framed pictures, the two tea mugs a-yuan got him for christmas a few years back, a lambswool blanket. clothes,

although he has no idea for how much longer he'll be able to use them. his yoga mat, pens and pencils. it feels like too little, as if two boxes of clothes and odds and ends could ever be enough to make a home, but he can't bring the furniture and he doesn't want to take away

too much, either. this is his home, has been for years, and he's not ready to give it up. it feels important to be able to come back here, whenever, and still have it feel like coming home if he needs it to.

he spends half a day setting up his work space in the guest room: computer, drawing tablet, light table, a portable speaker for music. sketchpads, soft erasers, his pens and pencils. wwx pops in and tells him it looks like a candy store, that his fingers are itching

to grab one of everything. lxc laughs, tells him he feels the same thing. seeing it all there, assembled and ready for him to reach for whatever he needs, his hands long to do exactly that.

he still goes in to work, two or three days a week depending on what they are working on. as they're approaching the end of the year, there is the general feeling of trying to tie up loose threads and wrap up what can be wrapped up ahead of deadline.

it isn't stressful, exactly, not more than usual since they're always working with multiple deadlines across multiple client accounts, but if lxc had hoped that the higher gear would mean less focus on him, he is soon proven wrong.

there is no open bullying or harassment; in fact, his closest colleagues are nothing but supportive. they ask how he's doing and offer advice, and as the weeks pass, he begins to think they may have even made some sort of agreement between themselves,

because he's hardly ever alone. if they aren't in meetings, there's always someone working by the desk next to his, or coming to initiate a lunch break or grabbing a coffee. he appreciates their efforts, he does, because he can see that they come from a genuine sense of affection

for him, but between their almost over-attentive treatment and the silent glances and murmured comments from colleagues in other teams - people walking past or eating at other tables in the break room - every day at the office becomes more and more exhausting. he feels constantly

on edge, apprehensive of something that never happens, and it makes his skin crawl and leaves him exhausted by the end of the day.

it's infuriating, because no one has really done anything, and yet everything is so different from how it was before, and there's nothing he can do to change it. there is no reversing a pregnancy he has decided to continue, after all, and there is no longer any hiding it.

his belly is growing, almost by the day it seems, and it is a strange relief when he first starts wearing one of the pairs of trousers he and wwx ordered, on a daily basis. they fit him well and even give some support, and it is the first time in weeks he feels comfortable

wearing trousers, but they also accentuate the fact that there is a belly, and it almost doesn't matter what he wears on top: the bump is there, round and swelling.

wwx loves it; loves sneaking his arms around lxc from behind and hug him, hands on the bump, or caressing it when they go to bed - also in the guestroom, because lxc cannot bear to move into the master bedroom, not yet.

instead it is in this room, smaller but more his own than any of the others in the house, that they go to bed together most night; it is in this bed wwx holds and caresses him, and it is here they fuck.

not every night, to be sure, but most of them. the buildup is slow, almost careful - a hand on lxc's arm or at the small of his back as they wash up after dinner, a shared glance in the bathroom mirror, and fingers trailing just inside his waistband.

it is always wwx who initiates, who asks and offers with or without words, and lxc doesn't know why he can't bring himself to do the same, why it feels so wrong, other than the reason he has already given wwx: it feels like it isn't for him to ask.

and he's feeling so horny, too.
there are mornings when he almost resents wwx for sleeping so peacefully in the bed next to him, making it impossible for lxc jerk off in peace before getting out of bed. his sex drive had began to increase over a year ago,

something he had assumed was due to hitting menopause, but wangji's rapidly deteriorating health had left little room - physically and mentally - to act on it. now, it seems, pregnancy is making his hormones run even wilder, and even the briefest drifted thought or gentle touch

can make his heart beat faster and his cunt wet.
without consciously deciding to, he begins to stop by the flat after work, on those days when he's been to the office. his mind exhausted and his skin crawling from other people's attention,

he lies down on his bed - the one that is his, truly his - and closes his eyes. breathes, takes in the silence, until his heart calms down and he begins touching himself.

he doesn't intend to keep it a secret from wwx, but it doesn't strike him as something he has to share, either, and so he doesn't. not for weeks, until one weekend they go to the flat together to pick up some warm sweaters and socks, and wwx spots the half-open box of toys

lxc hadn't bothered to put away last time he was there.
"oh" was all wwx had said, and it was clear he didn't know what more to say - didn't know if it was okay for him to say or ask anything. so lxc had told him, haltingly and with no small amount of blushing,

that he'd come here after work, that playing with himself made him feel better, more relaxed. he expects wwx to tease him, or maybe even say something about how he's sorry lxc doesn't feel comfortable doing that in the house, but wwx doesn't say anything like that at all.

instead, he sits down on the bed and asks "well... will you show me what you've got?"
surprised, lxc laughs incredulously, feeling his skin flush with embarrassment at the question alone. he's not ashamed of what's in that box, but just the thought of actively showing

its contents to wwx is awkward.
"feel free to take a look yourself" he says, "while i begin packing."
"really?" wwx's eyes glitter. "can i?"
lxc nods, and turns away to go through his drawers as wwx removes the lid. to be perfectly honest, it's distracting to have him sit there

on the bed and making noises at lxc's collection of sex toys, but at least they are enthusiastic sounds. giggles and delighted "ooooh"s, an impressed "*nice*" - lxc cannot help but be curious which toy sparked that reaction, but tries to stay focused on his task.

that endeavour is lost when wwx says, in his most intentionally flirtatious voice:
"oh, *xichen-gege*... i'm sorry, i didn't mean to just pull out your dick like that."

heat pools instantly deep down in lxc's core, and when he turns around to look, wwx is holding a dark blue dildo, already fastened into a harness, up in front of his face. his eyes are glittering wildly.
"how very forward of you" lxc manages to remark.

it's been a long while since he last used that particular toy - since he had anyone to use it with - but he remembers the sensation of wearing it with perfect clarity, and to have wwx look up at him like that, mischievous and eager.... it makes him *hunger*.

"xichen-gege?"
"mhm?" strained, a little high-pitched; he's soaking wet already, and wwx grinning at him over the strap-on is *not* helping matters at all.
"can we bring this back with us?"
"why?"

he *knows* why, he doesn't need wwx to say, but he does, all the same. needs to hear wwx say the words, as he sits there on lxc's bed, box full of toys and lube in his lap, with lxc's cock in his hands.

"because i want you to fuck me with this. i want to feel your cock inside me."
and then wwx drags his tongue along the shaft of the dildo.

lxc doesn't realise he has crossed the room until he's already by the bed, one hand pushing the box aside and the other on wwx's face as he leans in and kisses him. desire pulses through his body, hot and demanding, and wwx yelps and yields, pulling him closer with one hand

and groping at his trousers.
"you said" wwx gulps between kisses, "you *said* i deserved to be fucked too, and yet you've kept your pretty cock from me all this time? shame on you, xichen-ge, shame on you."
"you want me to fuck you?"

"yes, xichen-ge, yes."
"right now?"
lxc cups wwx's dick through his trousers, warm but soft under his hand.
wwx clamps down on his hand, makes him squeeze the unaroused cock.

"*yes*. just because my dick doesn't know what's best for it, doesn't mean i don't want it." he raises his hand to lxc's face, thumb on lxc's cheekbone, forcing lxc to meet his gaze. "please, xichen-ge, won't you fuck me with your cock today?"
he will.

they help each other undress; the usual twang of discomfort when his belly is revealed eased by wwx's eager hands and adoring kisses. it is already beginning to get in the way, the bump, becomes something they must navigate around, but the thought dissipates when wwx

goes down on him and with his tongue and lips brings lxc to the threshhold of climax. when they switch, lxc is nothing so much as a trembling heap of need, rubbing his cunt back and forth over wwx's hand as he fingers wwx's hole open, one finger, two, three, moaning as wwx begs

him for his cock. he fumbles as he slips the vibrator end of the dildo into his cunt, and his skin tingles with the way wwx's fingers brushes against it as he helps fasten the harness. there is a moment of awkwardness when he realises he cannot actually see the dildo for his bump

- he already cannot feel it, but if he can't see it either... - but then he feels wwx's hand cupping him, firmly pressing the toy against his clit, and hears wwx moan "fuck, you look so hot, xichen-ge, i can't wait to have you in me" and that makes it easier.

he's not alone in this, wwx is here, willing, wanting, and he is obviously not going to let lxc hurt him.
"you're going to have to help me" he says. "guide me inside."
wwx grins wolfishly, and with the click of two buttons, turns the vibrator for lxc's part of the dildo, on.

later, when they lie face to face on the bed, catching their breaths as their hearts slow and come cools on their skin, wwx laughs into the pillow.
"fuck, that felt good" he says on an exhale. "it's been too long since i was railed like that."

lxc flinches - just a little, because his mind and body both feel pleasantly soft and heavy - but wwx notices and puts his hand on lxc's cheek.
"don't" he whispers. "it was good, you made it good. i want us to do this again." he leans in, and his kiss as his lips

brush against lxc's is soft and sweet, lingering. when he pulls back, his hand stays. "it's okay, xichen-ge. if you need to come here, if you need your own space for whatever reason, that's okay. if you want to stay here, we'll- we'll make it work."

but lxc shakes his head - can feel his throat close up at the mere thought of the truth making it's way out.
"i think... i think i won't be leaving the house much. soon."

"oh" wwx breathes, sympathy in his eyes as he scoots closer and pulls lxc into a hug. "oh, xichen-ge."
"it's so hard" lxc manages to say, eyes closed against the burning tears that somehow still escape down his cheeks. "it's so hard, wuxian."

and wwx hugs him tightly and strokes his back, tells him how strong he is and that everything will be alright, and it helps. he doesn't know if he dares to believe it, but it feels better.

seeing jyl helps, too.

on her urging, he goes to see her once a week, outside of the weekly Sunday dinners. there's often at least one of the children at home, but they do their own thing and he and jyl sit together and talk. he thought it might be awkward, at first; that their conversation might be

stilted and halting, but she does not let it. she sits him down in the couch, pushes a mug of tea into his hands and sits down next to him, legs pulled up under her, and asks him to tell her everything. and so he does.

not *everything*, there's quite a lot he saves for his therapist and dr. miranda, but he considers jyl as a sister and a friend, and that is also how she treats him. she listens when he needs to talk and answers the questions he asks of her.

she curses the woman lxc overheard on the street making comments about him, lends him books and recommends websites, and even finds him an online class of pregnancy yoga to sign up for, that doesn't require appearing on camera or even with voice.

and in true older sibling fashion - and she is older than him, after all - she also gives him advice, even when he doesn't ask for it.

"a-chen..." she says one day, studying him with that mix of concern and insight that he has learned to respect. "have you started to bond with your baby at all?"
he doesn't understand what she's talking about.

"i'm not your doctor, or your therapist, but i've carried and given birth to four children" she says, "and you always talk about the pregnancy, not the baby. they're not separate things, a-chen. the child is not something that comes after the pregnancy ends, it's already here."

lxc doesn't know what to say to that, at first. the child isn't here yet, not really. his routines are still his own, not yet dictated by someone else's needs for food, sleep or comfort. but the pregnancy is ever-present: it affects his mood, his comfort,

his every interaction with others, even just sharing a space with others - whether at work or in the grocery store - draws attention to him he doesn't want, makes his skin itch and crawl. how can he not talk about the pregnancy when it affects his every day?

he manages to say something to this effect, haltingly and with many stops, and when he finally reaches the end, jyl puts her hand over his.
"i know i can't fully understand what you're going through" she says gently,

"and i don't know if this will be helpful to you, but... being pregnant is a temporary thing. it's a phase. yes, it changes your body in so many ways, ways you might not want and don't feel comfortable with and have no control over, and they are drastic changes, but they

are temporary. your body might never go back exactly to what it was before you got pregnant, but it won't stay this way forever. in less than half a year, this phase will be over and you won't have to endure how other people make you feel about your body, but you will have a baby

in your arms that will be there forever. that is new reality you have to prepare for, mentally and emotionally. bonding with the baby now can really help with that."

"i don't know what you mean by that" lxc acknowledges after a while, jyl's words spinning in his mind. "how do you do that?"
she doesn't give him a to-do-list, but she tells him about her own pregnancies. how she'd talk to her babies and sing to them while stroking her belly;

how jzx would talk to and kiss the belly, or read to it, or give it massages. how she'd stopped thinking of her belly as her own body, and as an extension of the baby instead.
"it got easier when the baby started kicking" she says with a fond smile, obviously remembering four

sets of first kicks. "they like to sleep while you're awake, so of course, the moment you start to wind down for sleep, they wake up and start kicking and waving their arms in there. you can push back, you know. you can make

a whole game of it, where they kick and you push, over and over."
lxc looks down on his own belly, one hand resting against it. he has noticed it happening more and more often: how, subconsciously, his hand drifts there, but he can't recall having ever touched himself

intentionally like that, caressing his own skin as though it were the baby's. wwx does, he realises. his hugs, his hands, the way they seek out lxc's belly, isn't only because of his pregnancy kink. he knows there's a baby in there, he's trying to connect with it as much

as he's trying to reassure lxc.
but lxc... he doesn't know how to. even sitting like this, having noticed his own hand protectively settled, feels awkward. perhaps jyl notices, because she gives his other hand a slow, thorough squeeze.

"can you show me?" he asks, and his voice is small with how helpless he feels. but jyl doesn't laugh or dismiss him. she scoots a little closer to him on the couch and asks if he'd like to remove his sweater and if she can touch him, and he chokes out a yes.

without the thick, bulky sweater, his belly feels even more pronounced - on display, almost - and he actually shivers when jyl places her hand on the top of it. her hand is warm, even through the fabric of his top, and she caresses his belly slowly, gently, as she whispers:

"hello, baobei. this is your auntie. i can't wait to meet you." she stills her hand, but continues to stroke her thumb in small, slow motions. "your fathers long to meet you, too. but there's no need to hurry. you stay in there, baobei, and grow strong and healthy.

i'll look after your fathers, and we'll all be here when you're ready. it won't be long now."
she makes a move as though to withdraw, but lxc puts his hand over hers, holding it in place against his belly, desperate suddenly to have that kindness stay for just a moment longer.

when she looks up at him, he can barely discern her face through his tears.

with jyl's help, it becomes easier to see the baby in the ways his body changes. she sends him little updates every wednesday, the kind of texts he would have received from any of a thousand websites or apps if he had dared sign up for them, telling him how

big the baby has grown and what it might have learned or get up to. she coos over the grainy little ultrasound image, and one afternoon, clambers behind him on the couch and with a sizeable squirt of baby oil spread in the palms of her hands, shows him how to give himself

and the bump a massage. as odd as it feels at first, it also feels good, in the most gut-wrenching, soul-harrowing way, to have someone touch him like that: holding him, touching him, in such an intimate way, gentle but firm.

he croaks something about how they must look like that infamous movie scene, the ghost pottery sex scene, only inverted and upended, and jyl snorts and laughs until she almost cannot breathe. later, when the taut skin of lxc's belly is slick, warm and tingling from her massage,

jyl wraps her arms around him tightly and moves them carefully from side to side a few times, as though cradling him.
he cannot recall when he last felt so safe.

it is also jyl's suggestion that they take photos during the pregnancy, in part for himself, in part of the baby. lxc is reluctant at first, worried that taking and looking at pictures of himself might trigger even worse dysphoria than he already feels,

but part of him is also fascinated by the changes he's going through, and when jyl points out that he doesn't have to share the photos with anyone, he decides to give it a try.

he and wwx add it to their routine, and although it starts off as a joke to ease lxc's discomfort at the experience - they intentionally try to take the most quint-essential of "record the bump's growth" photos, complete with stark bathroom lighting and hands positioned

to exaggerate the curve - it soon becomes real; a weekly hours-long session of picking out clothes together, of caressing touches, of making out, even fucking, in front of the walk-in closet mirror or in the shower or on the floor, wherever is closest and - as the bump grows

and lxc begins to experience joint pain - most comfortable. soon, wwx begins to take pictures even outside of those scenes - lxc trying out his new, prenatal yoga poses; lxc in the kitchen, cooking - and there's something so natural and sweetly domestic about them.

lxc shares them to his own phone, and brings them out sometimes in the same way he does the ultrasound picture. wonders, mesmerised, at the possibility that there is someone out there who sees him like this.

he wonders sometimes if they are falling in love with each other, despite their earlier confidence they would not. they share kisses and caresses so much easier now, not only meals and a bed. but lxc still cannot bring himself to sleep in the master bedroom, and there are

still times - early mornings, late nights, weekend afternoons - when he finds wwx curled up on himself in a corner somewhere, or on the floor, caught up in another anxiety attack, face covered in salt tears and snot, limbs stiff and unyielding as he wraps himself around lxc

for comfort and hiccoughs "i miss him" over and over again into lxc's ear.
but on the other hand, there is also wwx making sure to buy lxc's favourite teas and lots of fresh berries for breakfast meals, and touching him lovingly in a hundred different ways throughout the day,

and drawing baths for him in the evenings when the cold of winter joins forces with the pregnancy in making every bone and joint in his body ache. after, wwx rubs him down all over his body and wraps him in warm robes before putting him to bed,

fussing and smiling all the while, as though delighted to be given the opportunity.

one afternoon, when lxc has been working at home all day, tiredness overcomes him and he falls asleep on the living room couch.

when he wakes, sleepy and disoriented, he finds that someone has draped his lambswool blanket - the one he brought from the flat - over him. suddenly overwhelmed by the gesture, he doesn't sit up at once, merely shifts under the blanket, and when a couple of minutes later

wwx shows up with two mugs of tea, lxc has collected himself enough to sit up and, pooling the blanket around his belly, does as he has practiced with jyl for weeks. he puts a hand the bump, looks down at it, and then at wwx, and says:

"your father takes such good care of me, baobei."
he hasn't even had the chance to finish saying "i know he'll take even better care of you" before wwx is next to him on the couch, all pleading eyes and eager but hesitant hands, asking wordlessly for consent, and when lxc nods,

those hands on his stomach, warm and steady, lips against the fabric of his sweater, whispering the words wwx must have kept inside for so long, the same words jyl spoke weeks ago: i long to meet you, be good and grow healthy, i love you already, don't you ever doubt it, baobei.

baobei, baobei, baobei.

it is the week before christmas and a-yuan's winter break when lxc first feels it. perhaps he has felt it before, a bubbling sensation, like nerves or maybe - embarrassingly, gas - but this time, it feels nothing like that at all.

he's at his desk in the office, a place he has grown to resent, sweating and feeling much too warm in his sweater but simultaneously too self-conscious to remove it, trying to finish a sketch for a concept art portfolio, when the sensation makes him drop his pen.

it feels nothing like his own body at all. he has never experienced anything like it, has no vocabulary to describe or even make sense of the sudden sensation that something, *someone*, else, just moved inside him.

he gasps, stills, desperate for it to happen again so that he'll know for sure he hasn't imagined it, but it doesn't. not until later that night, when he sits in the corner of the couch that has somehow become his, reading, and the unexpected sensation makes him sit up

straighter and lay one hand flat against the bump.
"xichen-ge?" wwx asks from the other end of the couch, plucking one earbud from his ear and looking up from his computer screen where who knows what he's watching. "are you okay?"

"yeah" lxc manages, wetting his lips. "it's just... i think i just felt the baby move."
the smile on wwx's face could rival the sun for radiance.

[break - happy holidays! <3]

@threadreaderapp unroll, please!