Chapter Text
Xichen, Mingjue and Meng Yao gather in the Hufflepuff common room, as they usually do whenever they happen to want a picnic.
(The Slytherin common room is strictly for homework, politics, and if Meng Yao is busy, while Gryffindor remains unvisited except during celebrations, because as rowdy as Gryffindor is, they tend to throw the best parties.)
There are blankets and beanbags, a few food baskets and the occasional piece of homework lying around, and Xichen wonders if this is the perfect time to pop the question.
“Da-ge, A-Yao- would either of you perhaps like some ice mice?”
The reply from Mingjue is immediate, a look of horror on his face even as he immediately backs away. “Fuck no , Xichen, how can you stand eating those… things ?”
Meng Yao, on the other hand, shakes his head awkwardly. “Thank you for the offer, er-ge, but I don’t think I want to snack at the moment?”
It’s hardly surprising- the only other person in the castle who actually enjoys ice mice, as far as Xichen knows, is Professor Wen Ruohan. Still, for ninety-nine percent of the population to detest it…
Xichen huffs.
“How am I going to cuddle either of you if you won’t eat the ice mice?”
Mingjue chokes, and nearly falls off his chosen beanbag. “I’m sorry, what .”
“I said, how am I going to cuddle either of you if you won’t eat any ice mice?”
He is pouting, Xichen knows, but seeing Wangji’s antics in order to be noticed by Wei Wuxian -not that Wangji needs it, really!- has inspired him, and he really wants to try it out.
“Er-ge? Did something… happen, earlier?” Meng Yao is being cautious, and quite honestly, for good reason. As the Head Boy, Xichen knows his limits, but even he has ideas sometimes.
(The Sorting Hat had debated on placing him in Slytherin, after all.)
“A-Yao,” Xichen pouts, widening his eyes pleadingly. “Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just- er-ge, please… ice mice are bad for you…” Meng Yao’s voice is lowly concerned, but he eyes the box of ice mice in Xichen’s hand like it is his arch nemesis, and Xichen pouts.
“...What if I ate the ice mice and started shivering, would you cuddle me then?”
Meng Yao’s eyes widen, while, beside him, Mingjue does a double take. “Excuse me, what? Xichen, are you oka-”
“I just want cuddles,” Xichen mumbles, pouting at the box of ice mice before reaching for one to pop into his mouth anyway.
Meng Yao sighs, and then there are tentative arms wrapping around him, and the smaller boy is curling close, tucking himself under Xichen’s arm.
Xichen beams, and pulls Meng Yao even closer before turning pleading eyes upon Mingjue.
Another sigh, and then Mingjue takes a seat on his other side and wraps an arm over Xichen’s shoulder as well.
Laughing, Xichen burrows closer, tugging Meng Yao along with him as he shuffles their positions. “Hooray for cuddles,” he cheers, banishing the box of now-useless ice mice to the coffee table.
“Yes,” Mingjue drawls, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Hooray indeed.”
It is a long moment later that Meng Yao looks up at Xichen with an arched eyebrow, and asks, “So, will you explain to us just where this absurd idea of giving yourself hypothermia for cuddles came from?”
“Wangji stole an entire box of ice mice from me when I visited him in Ravenclaw tower earlier,” Xichen explains, patting Meng Yao gently on the head- and taking the chance to ruffle the younger boy’s hair, because why not?
“He did it just so he could eat them all at one go and get himself lots of cuddles from Wei Wuxian. So I got myself another box for our picnic, because while Ravenclaw has nice armchairs in their common room, beanbags are obviously better for cuddles.”
If only because Mingjue wouldn’t fit into said armchairs, Xichen very resolutely does not add.
“What,” Mingjue starts, pulling away to stare disbelievingly at Xichen. “The fuck?”
Xichen just whines and pulls Mingjue back into the cuddle pile, and pretends to not see the way Mingjue meets Meng Yao’s gaze and whispers -not inconspicuously-, “I thought Lan Wangji was a Ravenclaw! Aren’t Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?”
Meng Yao just shrugs, and Xichen can only cling closer to Mingjue until the taller boy subsides, still grumbling lowly under his breath.
(Well, the ice mice didn’t work, but at least he was still getting cuddles!)