A/N: A little something for Maeve, for all of the reasons. Okay and maybe it's a bit for me too lol.
A/N2: Always, always thank you to Ro for everything. But also thank you for being my beta reader.
A/N3: Title from the Agnes Obel song
Pairings: 5x3xM
Warnings: language, sexy things, dare I say fluff? Okay also, sorry, of course, a bit of angst. I'm sorry.
Just So
He took too long in the shower, letting his anxiety get the better of him and losing his train of thought as he practiced saying the words, voice lost to the water, and he forgot whether or not he had already washed the conditioner out of his hair or if he had even put it in in the first place.
And then he'd gone through the entire speech in his head again, as he let the conditioner sit, and he realized halfway through that of course he had already conditioned his hair because he had started the speech after doing it the first time.
Frustrated with himself, he finished scrubbing his body and then rinsed the conditioner out of his hair.
And then realized he had forgotten to shave before his shower.
His entire routine was off - he wasn't used to being up this early, to being the only one in the bathroom, to putting this much care into everything and then forgetting what the hell he had been about to do and-
His teeth. He needed to floss.
By the time he finished in the bathroom - having had to double back and put on deodorant - he was convinced that the disaster of the morning was not only a portent of a very bad day ahead of him, but, even more likely, a life of amounting to nothing and doing nothing and being nothing.
He stared at the closet, at the meager section allotted for his clothing. It was, of course, his choice. He had been offered more space, but Wufei was as utilitarian in his wardrobe as he was with most things in life. Or at least, as he had been.
Wufei didn't have much time for useless things. And while he had learned, over the last three years, that some things had uses that he hadn't previously considered, he still had trouble finding the need to own half a dozen dress shirts when three were far more than enough for his needs.
Of course, if everything went well today - and Wufei was convinced it would not, at all - then he would need more than three dress shirts.
As it was, he looked at the paltry choices. White, teal, or red.
The white was plain, boring, and Wufei knew he was already likely to fade into the background as it was - he had the habit of doing that, when he wasn't being so much of a fool that he forced attention onto himself.
The teal shirt hadn't been his purchase, and still wasn't a shirt he even particularly liked. It felt too tight, the smooth cotton blend clinging to his shoulders and arms and making Wufei acutely aware of the fact that he looked like someone out of a clothing advertisement, someone who didn't belong.
The red, of course, was bright - like a tomato, Meilan had muttered when Wufei received the shirt from his mother. It, too, would stand out, but it had been a gift, and it was red. Wufei wasn't religious, wasn't even superstitious, but…
But today had already started off so poorly. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to hedge his bets, to pray for a little luck?
"Put it back."
He turned at the sound of the voice, gravelly from sleep, muffled against the smooth skin of Meilan's shoulder.
They were both awake, looking at him with sleepy eyes, twined together, looking perfect and careless and complete.
He forced himself to banish that thought - as invasive and unwelcome as it was, as constant as it was, he didn't have time to fight that demon today as well.
Trowa lifted one hand from around Meilan's body and gestured at Wufei's shirts.
"The teal. It suits your skin tone better."
Of course, Trowa had been the one to buy the shirt, had been the one to drag Wufei to the mall and force him to update his wardrobe after they had moved in together, after Trowa had discovered that Wufei really did only have a closet full of khakis and polo shirts, all purchased by his mother, all either too big or too small.
Wufei had spent too much money, in his own mind, buying jeans, trousers, sweaters, the white dress shirt - he had balked when Trowa had held up the shirt, had sneered when he put it on and Trowa gave him a low, appreciative whistle. Trowa had insisted on buying it, however, and Wufei had worn it just twice.
Once, that same night, when they had met Meilan for dinner at her place, and then again, just last month, when they had celebrated Trowa's birthday, going out to some fancy restaurant at his sister's insistence, and Wufei had been stared at by strangers all night, painfully aware that everyone thought it was completely logical for Trowa and Meilan to be together, to assume that Wufei was simply the awkward friend they both felt sympathy for.
"Plus, it actually fits you," Meilan grumbled.
She sat up in bed, sheets falling down to her waist, and Wufei was momentarily distracted by the sight of her breasts - amazed, as he always was, that she had any interest in him. That either of them did.
That demon was back, had never been vanquished or even weakened.
"The white suits me better," Wufei argued, putting the red shirt back on its hanger and reaching for that one.
"The teal," she groaned. "You look so hot in the teal shirt, Wufei."
He flushed at that and turned away.
He had grown up with her teasing - the only two Chinese kids in their class at the arts academy they had attended for primary school, they had been confused for each other often enough that it had moved past insulting and became a joke, for the two of them at least, when the mood was right. It didn't mean they particularly liked each other, for all that the experience had allowed them to bond over shared frustrations, and Meilan had been relentless in her teasing of him, just as Wufei had been pathetically focused on constantly proving to her that he was better than she was.
The bed linens rustled, and Wufei turned to see Meilan on her knees, naked body gilded by the sunlight peeking through the blinds, and moving to the foot of the bed. Her movement pulled the sheets away from Trowa as well, each inch revealing more and more of his tanned flesh.
Trowa made no move to cover himself, simply lay back and flicked his eyes over Meilan's body in a slow, possessive caress before meeting Wufei's gaze with a slight smirk.
"Wufei. Come here."
He sighed, and put the white shirt back in the closet as well. Ignoring Meilan never worked out for him. It had taken him almost twenty years to finally admit that.
Wufei approached the foot of the bed, stopping just short of where Meilan knelt.
"Do you think I'm a liar?"
Wufei snorted.
"No." Those same twenty years had given him ample demonstration of the fact that Meilan was painfully, brutally honest.
She reached out and tugged on the waistband of his briefs, drawing him closer, until their chests were flush, until he could feel her nipples brush against him, shifting with each breath either of them took.
"Then why don't you believe me when I tell you that you look hot in the teal shirt?"
It wasn't fair, her using touch to distract him. She knew how tactile he was, how sensitive his skin was and how difficult it was for him to think about anything but pleasure when she was naked and pressed against him.
"That- that's your opinion. It's entirely subjective. It's not a fact."
She groaned, frustrated with him again.
But she kept her fingers curled into the waistband of his briefs, refusing to let him go.
"So you think I have bad taste?"
The look in her dark eyes was challenging, the tilt of her head just the angle Wufei knew was a fraction away from angry.
He slanted a look at Trowa, but the other man was still smirking, amused by the hole Wufei was digging for himself and seemingly content to lay back and watch.
In other circumstances, if this was late at night and they had all had a few glasses of wine or one of Trowa's far-too-strong mixed drinks, Wufei might have argued with her, might have started in on a list of all of her questionable favorite things - but not this morning. Not when he was so anxious, not when so much was already going wrong and his nerves were already so raw.
"No," he sighed, already exhausted with himself, with this day.
Meilan's gaze softened.
"Wufei."
She tugged him even closer, until his weight was carrying both of them back onto the bed, until he found himself pressed between Trowa and the mattress.
Meilan shifted, curling against his side and propping herself up so that she could look down at him.
He could feel Trowa's gaze on him as well, could see the concern in the green eyes that had only moments before been amused.
"You're nervous," Trowa said, sounding disbelieving even as he said it.
Wufei fought the urge to push away from them.
"Yes, of course I'm nervous," he bit out.
Trowa stared down at him, looking as if the concept of Wufei nervous about anything was difficult to comprehend.
Meilan, of course, had seen him nervous plenty of times - hell, Meilan had even held a wastebasket for him while he puked into it their junior year, while they waited to hear which of them had placed first in a scholarship competition. She knew this wasn't anything new, knew that Wufei had always been a mess of nerves, only just managing to hold himself together most of the time.
Trowa, though… Trowa had only known Wufei since college, had only known him well since their senior year, since that party their spring semester when the three of them had been far too drunk and had done too many things that Wufei had only ever thought would be possible in his fantasies.
And since college, since graduating and taking the mildly-lobotomizing job as a graphic artist for a tech company, Wufei hadn't really had too many occasions to get this nervous about - meeting Trowa's sister for the first time, certainly; working up the nerve to say I love you back after Trowa had whispered it into his ear. But Trowa hadn't been there to coax him down after Wufei had convinced himself that asking Trowa to move in with him was a bad idea - that had been Meilan, shoving a bag of popcorn into his hands while she poured them glasses of bourbon and sat him down to watch Terminator, sitting with him on the couch and shoving his hand away from the phone whenever he looked to see if Trowa had messaged him, dragging him into bed with her that night and laying her head on his chest and telling him that he was an idiot, and that Trowa was an idiot, and that men, in general, were idiots, and of course Trowa would call him in the morning, after Trowa had worked through his freakout over the prospect of someone wanting to see him every morning and every night.
"But you're perfect for the job," Trowa said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "They would be blind not to see how great you are."
Wufei felt his cheeks warm at the praise, at the absolute certainty in Trowa's voice.
"Trowa, he doesn't even see how great he is."
Meilan smoothed one hand over Wufei's chest, up his throat and over his jaw. She rubbed her hand against the hard line and looked at him as though she meant the words.
Wufei closed his eyes.
"There are plenty of qualified candidates. I'm one of probably a dozen they're interviewing and-"
"And you're the only Chang Wufei," she interrupted him.
He snorted. She was so sure that that mattered. That he mattered.
She always had been, even when she bested him, even when he bested her. She had always thought he was something special, someone special.
He felt Trowa's hand on his hip, his touch just a little unsure.
"Would sex help?"
It was Meilan who snorted a laugh, breath puffing against Wufei's cheek, and he opened his eyes to see her smirking over at Trowa.
"No, he doesn't like to fuck when he's anxious - it makes him feel even worse."
Trowa looked between them, and he must have seen something on Wufei's face that made him understand.
He nodded.
"That's fine. We can have sex tonight, to celebrate how well you do in the interview."
Trowa brushed his nose over Wufei's cheek, and then pressed a soft kiss to the same spot.
The same place Trowa had first kissed him, weeks before that party, just a casual brush of his lips that had left Wufei feeling as though he had been scorched. The same place Trowa had kissed him at the store, when Wufei put on the teal shirt and glared at him when Trowa said that he looked amazing.
Meilan curled against his side, laying her head down on his shoulder.
The weight and warmth of their bodies was surprisingly comforting, and Wufei allowed himself to appreciate it, allowed himself the moment to just appreciate the sensation of being surrounded.
"The white shirt looks nice too," Meilan said. "You look crisp in it."
Trowa made a noise.
"Yes, I prefer the teal shirt, too," Meilan muttered, and she reached across Wufei to shove at Trowa. "But he doesn't have to dress like our fantasy to look good. He looks good in just about anything."
"Not that red shirt," Trowa muttered. He hadn't gone so far as to compare it unfavorably to fruit, but then again, considering the clothing his sister sometimes purchased for him, he didn't have much of a leg to stand on. Still, his arched eyebrow had made it very clear how he felt about the shirt.
"Well no, not even Wufei can pull off that monstrosity."
Meilan kissed his shoulder.
"Wear whatever you want."
"Except the red shirt," Wufei muttered.
"Exactly." Meilan smirked at him. "You're going to do great."
Wufei still felt the roiling anxiety pressing against him, still felt nearly nauseous at the very thought of the interview.
Trowa nodded in agreement and then got up from the bed, stretching and then leaning back to press a quick kiss to Wufei's lips.
"I love you," he said as he straightened up.
Wufei stared at him as Trowa walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Meilan was still smirking at him, and Wufei flushed.
"What?" he asked defensively as he too got up from the bed.
"Oh, nothing." Meilan sat up, hugging her knees and resting her chin on one as she watched him go back to glaring at his clothes. "It's just adorable how smitten you two are with each other."
"With you too," he muttered, and then sighed as he picked up the teal shirt.
He knew they liked it. He just…
"Wear the gray cardigan with it," Meilan suggested.
Wufei pulled that out as well, and then reached for the one pair of khakis Trowa had let him keep.
"Very nice," Meilan said.
He rolled his eyes, both at her need to offer approval and his desire for it.
By the time he shrugged on his cardigan, Trowa had opened the bathroom door again and was leaning against the frame, watching Wufei with a warm expression on his face that did a lot to ease Wufei's nerves.
Meilan finally got out of the bed and walked over to tweak his collar.
"Yes. You'll do just fine, Chang."
She kissed him on the lips, and he caught her as she started to pull away, holding her against him for another moment until she softened and smiled into his mouth.
"Will you be here tonight?"
Meilan hesitated, biting her lip as she bought herself a moment to answer the question.
Even though the three of them had… been the three of them for almost four years, even though Wufei and Trowa had moved into an apartment together eighteen months ago, Meilan still lived on her own. She spent more nights with them than on her own, but she valued her independence, valued getting to go home to her own apartment, valued getting to be alone.
"Yeah," she decided with a grin. "I will be. I want to hear about how awesome you did in person."
She kissed him again and then moved past Trowa, playfully pushing him out of the door before closing it behind her.
"Call me when you're done?" Trowa asked.
Wufei nodded, and looked at himself in the mirror one last time.
The cardigan helped a lot. He felt more relaxed, and when he put his glasses on and tucked his hair behind his ears, he felt like himself.
As he walked out of the room, Trowa caught his hand and gave it a squeeze.
Wufei squeezed back.
"I love you too," he said, and Trowa grinned at him.
"I know."
Wufei shook his head at Trowa's expression, at the quote, but as he left the apartment, he found that he was grinning himself.
-o-