take a ride on my broomstick
take a ride on my broomstick.
{ Are you a golden snitch? Because I've been seeking for something like you my whole life. }
Pairings: Kris/Lay (Xiumin/Luhan)
Genre: Harry Potter!AU, comedy, romance
Rating: G
Wordcount: 10, 425
Summary: Wu Fan is the captain of the Chinese National Quidditch Team. Yixing is his biggest fan. Written for uchouten for exoforsichuan ♥
“Calm down Yixing, before you explode from excitement.”
Yixing lowers his Omnioculars and looks at Lu Han, rolling his eyes.
“Shut up.”
“Your obsessive dream to get in Wu Fan’s pants is practically being broadcast to the entire stadium,” Lu Han says with a smirk, fiddling with the striped scarf fitted snugly around his neck. Yixing makes a disgusted sound in his throat and shoves at Lu Han.
“Stop being a dick. I didn’t bring you along to the Quidditch World Cup to hear you make fun of me.”
“Oh please,” Lu Han drawls, “you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you bought me that ticket you liar.” He looks slightly ridiculous with two streaks of paint on his cheeks; the gold and red of China’s colours.
Yixing huffs a laugh and goes back to looking through the Omnioculars. The crowd is enormous, filling the entire arena until people spill out of the seats and line up against the railings. Advertisements flash up on the enormous billboards, all in English with Chinese subtitles beneath.
The atmosphere is buzzing with electricity. For the last few months, the world cup has been hyped up by all sorts of media outlets, honing in on the fact that China is the first Asian team to ever reach the finals. The Quidditch World Cup is already the biggest sporting event in the wizarding world and with this new novelty tacked on, its popularity has seemed to reach even greater heights this year. Yixing is certain that the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad are working overtime to compensate for the soar in “strange” incidents witnessed by muggles in the area.
There is a distinction half-way across the stadium where the red and gold of the Chinese team is halted by the red and white of the English. The red connects them together though, like a trickle of unity amidst the overwhelming difference of the supporters. Yixing can see the ripple of a wave across the colours and a huge “England for 2013” in blazing letters hovering above the crowd. A shiver of anticipation tickles down his spine and he can’t help but smile, clutching the Omnioculars close to his chest.
There is a cough and then a voice booms out, a translation charm quickly ushered which ripples out across the spectators in a golden hue before curling around in a spherical figure.
“Welcome, my fellow wizards and witches and warlocks and squibs and all other magical creatures who managed to get past security, to the four hundred and forty-first Quidditch world cup!” the deep voice says, echoing around the stadium. “And now, let me hear you make some noise for the Chinese National Quidditch Team making history tonight as the first Asian Quidditch team to reach the finals!”
The Chinese team zoom onto the pitch, streaks of gold issuing from the tips of their brooms, dark clouds trailing in their wake, as the crowd on Yixing’s side erupts in screams. Yixing presses the Omnioculars to his eyes, blinking violently as he searches for the captain. And he sees him, right at the front as he leads the way, blond hair swept back by the wind, gold cloak billowing around him, eyes narrowed in concentration and determination. His posture is perfectly arched over the broom, effortless as he glides across the perimeter of the stadium and Yixing feels like he is about to pass out because Wu Fan looks so much better in real life than he does on the posters in Yixing’s bedroom.
Wu Fan does a little spin in the air, lips quirking in a grin as he salutes the crowd with a wink - the response is thunderous. Yixing laughs and smiles back, bouncing eagerly in the stands. A quick glance across to Lu Han tells him that the latter is just as excited now, lips curved and eyes crinkled with his smile, following the players as they glide around the pitch.
The English team is introduced and they all hurtle forward in a blur of red and white, doing a few fantastic loops before swooping down low over the crowd. Yixing claps appreciatively, shouting his approval but his attention is quickly drawn back to Wu Fan who is now hovering around the goal posts, already preparing himself. He weaves between the three posts slowly, concentration completely on the game ahead.
The referee walks onto the pitch as all of the players settle into their positions. He places the crate that he had been holding on the ground, slipping onto his broomstick as the lid flies open and the balls zoom into the air.
The players are off immediately with an English Chaser getting hold of the Quaffle first, the team passing it quickly between each other, only to be intercepted by a Bludger as it plummets into the tail of one of their brooms. Yixing presses the Omnioculars so close to his eyes that it hurts, unblinking as he watches the Quaffle pass down through the Chinese team before it is caught by the English Keeper, and the game continues.
The first goal is scored within five minutes in a spectacular dive from above that almost has one of the Chinese Chaser striking the hoop, narrowly missing a collision as the Quaffle soars through seamlessly. The crowd roars and stamps their feet and Yixing waves his arms in their air, screaming as loud as he can.
He focuses on Wu Fan and he can see the quiver of a smile on his lips but his expression barely wavers, determination prevailing. The English only manage to score one goal to China’s three within an hour, Wu Fan working brilliantly to keep the Quaffles from falling through the hoops. He defends his position with ease, long arms stretching across to catch the Quaffle or bat it away, leaning right off his broom at one point in order to reach. Each time he saves a goal, the crowd on Yixing’s side shouts victoriously and Wu Fan just offers a small nod alongside the hint of a smile in response.
It goes on for a while, a goal scored here and there, blocked and deflected every other time. There is this one intense moment where the English Seeker is seen hurtling towards the grass, closely followed by the Chinese Seeker, swerving away drastically just before he hits the grass; effectively performing a Wronski Feint manoeuvre (which Yixing animatedly points out to Lu Han.) The Chinese Seeker, Zitao, famous for being the tallest seeker in history, is not so lucky as he crashes head first onto the field and slumps forward on the ground in a sprawled mess of arms and legs. The English Seeker twirls away happily and Lu Han gapes at him.
“Oh my god that’s got to hurt.”
Yixing nods, biting his lip in concern as the mediwizards rush onto the field and quickly patch the seeker up with a few healing spells and a potion. Zitao unsteadily gets to his feet and waves to the crowd with a wonky smile, the audience roaring in approval as he slips back onto his broom.
There are a few more bruises and crashes - one of the English Beaters even flying head first into a goal post and needing to be taken off the field. But it isn’t until about halfway through the second hour that a snitch sighting appears to happen again and the English Seeker zooms towards something on the other side of the pitch.
Yixing glances furiously from the Seeker to where his gaze lies and sees the flash of something gold and the tiny whir of wings.
“It’s the snitch! He’s seen it!”
Lu Han’s fingers clench around Yixing’s arm, and he tugs excitedly.
“Where is it?”
“Right down near England’s goals.”
Zitao is gaining speed quickly, body wrapped tightly around the broom, head down and eyes set on his target. But he’s still too far, the English Seeker having a good head start. Out of the corner of Yixing’s vision, something quick and dark cuts across the air and slams into the English Seeker, knocking him off his broom. Yixing audibly gasps, as does the rest of the crowd, and he sees a Chinese Beater waving her club triumphantly in the air. Zitao grins and plummets forward, hair whipping across his face as he reaches out, fingers stretching to their full capacity, before he rolls forward, falling through the air.
The audience is all on their feet now, Yixing on the tips of his toes in his attempt to see.
“Did he get it?” Lu Han asks, peering over the heads in front of them
A surging roar is their answer as Zitao shakily raises his gloved fist, fingers clenched tight around the Snitch as it weakly flutters its wings. Yixing shouts with them, leaping up and down as he waves his hands manically in the air, Lu Han beside him screeching loudly.
And so China is crowned as Quidditch World Champion for 2013.
*
After the crowd begins to wander out of the stadium and the victorious team has flown the perimeter of the pitch at least fifty times, Yixing drags Lu Han down to the front of the stadium.
“They might give autographs,” Yixing explains as Lu Han stumbles along behind him, tripping over towels thrown haphazardly on the ground and abandoned streamers. There are a few people already waiting, the sort of die-hard fans who have covered every inch of their skin in the relevant colours and probably know how many times their favourite star breathes per minute.
He can see the Quidditch players all huddled on the field, sharing enthusiastic remarks and clapping each other on the back happily. Wu Fan stands in the centre of the Chinese national team, a smile on his lips as he speaks animatedly to his teammates, gloved hand gripping his dark gold Firebolt 2.0. It’s a windy day and his cloak billows outwards with each new gust of air, his blond hair ruffled and wild, falling across his eyes. Their coach, a grin on his face so large that his eyes disappear, gestures over to where the fans wait and motions for them to walk over.
As the Chinese team ventures over to the railings, Yixing pushes closer, holding a small notepad out for them to sign. He is pressed against the barriers, uncomfortably so, with Lu Han beside him. But as Wu Fan walks moves closer, Yixing supposes he can deal with a slight discomfort. Wu Fan looks at him, cheeks flushed a little from exertion, breathing still laboured as he offers a small exhausted smile.
“Hi, who would you like me to make it out to?” he says, taking the notepad from Yixing’s hands, quill hovering over the first page. Yixing blinks, mouth suddenly dry. Wu Fan is just over a head taller than him, eyes bright and lips parted and Yixing feels butterflies flutter in his chest.
“Y-Yixing,” he stutters, attempting a recovery. His eyes trace the slight curve of Wu Fan’s lips, the point of his nose, and the hard line of his jaw. “I’m your biggest fan,” he gushes, unable to help himself. Wu Fan tilts his head, evidently amused.
“I get that a lot,” he replies. Lu Han snorts loudly and they both turn to look at him.
“Oh I can assure you that Yixing takes the cake on that one,” he says, raising an eyebrow. Wu Fan laughs, a soft sort of sound that bubbles from his throat unhindered.
“Is that so?”
Yixing feels a wave of heated embarrassment flood through him but Wu Fan’s smile is kind and not at all condescending.
“I well-yeah, I really like you,” Yixing mumbles, cursing the flush that crawls over his cheeks. Wu Fan hands the book back to Yixing and their fingers touch, just a light contact of skin against skin, but it sets Yixing’s nerves alight with electricity.
“Nice meeting you Yixing,” he says with a slight nod of the head, before he moves on to the next person beside them.
*
Yixing and Lu Han have booked a hotel for two weeks in England following the match (Lu Han refused to come unless there was a holiday attached.) So they sit in a coffee shop the next day and decide how to spend the rest of their time in England. Lu Han has already terrified the muggles sitting behind them when he carelessly caused a packet of sugar to fly across to their table and fall into his drink.
Yixing is circling red marks on the map unfolded before him when he looks up and accidentally inhales his coffee. He splutters for a few seconds before regaining his composure and wildly flapping his hands at Lu Han.
“Ohmyfuckinggoditswufan,” Yixing whispers and Lu Han offers him a pained expression.
“Are you making up your own language again?”
Yixing is far too engrossed in watching the way Wu Fan delicately sips at his coffee, long fingers curled almost protectively around the cup, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes read the newspaper before him with a fierce intensity. Lu Han sighs dramatically and follows Yixing’s gaze, eyes widening when he notices the Quidditch star.
“I really don’t get what you see in him,” he snorts. Yixing makes a loud sound of indignation which, unfortunately, is a little too loud and causes Wu Fan to look up. His eyes fall on Yixing and he blinks, once, twice, slowly; a sliver of recognition flashing across his face.
And then he grins, lips crookedly parting across perfect teeth as his hand lifts in a curt wave of acknowledgement.
A sharp pinch against his arm makes Yixing look across at Lu Han.
“Are you okay? I think your skin is about to burn right off your face it’s so red.”
Yixing doesn’t even care to be honest (but he does manage to give Lu Han a quick kick to the ankle.)
“What do I do Lu Han?”
Lu Han glares at him, rubbing the sore spot on his ankle with a hiss.
“Well you should go talk to him, he seems relatively nice.”
Yixing swallows, heartbeat threatening to burst from his chest.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Lu Han says, “and make sure you open with how many images of his face you have around your bedroom.”
Yixing kicks him again, stands up, and almost collapses when he sees Wu Fan is still watching him, the edges of his curved lips hidden a little as he takes another sip from his coffee. Yixing walks over, cursing his unsteady legs as he hovers self-consciously by Wu Fan’s table.
“Hello,” Yixing says and Wu Fan raises an eyebrow.
“You’re my biggest fan right?” he says, a hint of amusement laced in his tone.
Yixing cringes because it manages to sound so stupid coming from his mouth.
“I-well yes.”
Wu Fan laughs and Yixing feels his heart soar because that’s the second time he has heard Wu Fan laugh and he has never heard Wu Fan laugh before. The captain is always so serious and attentive in interviews, offering warm smiles to the fans but never emitting so much as a small chuckle. And yet within a few days, Yixing has made him laugh. Twice. It almost feels like they already share a special bond Yixing thinks distantly - he can practically hear Lu Han’s snort of disbelief at that thought.
“Wait, you’re not stalking me are you?” Wu Fan says, his eyebrows lowering. Yixing shakes his head fiercely, feeling a stab of embarrassment.
“No! We were just here for a coffee and then I saw you, I wasn’t following you I swear, I’m not like one of the crazy fans okay, im normal, I promise!” Yixing belatedly realises his little tirade of words probably made him seem far from normal but Wu Fan doesn’t seem to be too fussed by it, his smile returning to that previous quiver of amusement which plays on his lips, hands folding the Chinese translation of the Daily Prophet perfectly in front of him. Across the front emblazoned in a solid black is “Chinese Team Cheaters or Triumphant Champions”, the photo below it replaying Wu Fan performing a spectacular save.
Yixing frowns. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the title of the paper.
Wu Fan sighs and presses his lips together in a grim smile.
“They’re trying to make it out like we cheated or something.”
“That’s ridiculous! I don’t see why they can’t just accept the fact that you won.”
Wu Fan shrugs and sighs again, exhaling wistfully.
“It’s alright. There’s only so much they can dig up before they get bored.” He looks at Yixing for a moment, expression scrutinising, and Yixing shifts uncomfortably beneath his gaze.
“Yixing isn’t it?”
Yixing nods.
“Did you want to sit down?” he says, gesturing to the seat across from him, “can I pay for your coffee?”
Yixing blinks, eyes widening in surprise.
“I-uh-what?”
Wu Fan’s cheeks turn a patchy red and Yixing decides embarrassment looks brilliant on him.
“Sorry, I mean, it’s just my manager told me to get to know fans better and well, you’re one so …” He trails off, looking away.
Yixing feels a rising bubble of hysteric laughter in his throat and does his best to quell it.
“Well Lu Han already paid for our drinks but um, if I need another one, I guess I know where to come?”
Wu Fan throws him an apologetic look with a twinge of humiliation, nodding in understanding.
“Sorry,” he says again, and Yixing feels like his heart is so swollen it’s about to burst from emotion. Wu Fan taps his fingers on the table for a little bit before he coughs awkwardly into his hand and folds his newspaper into a neat square. The chair screeches as he stands up and he smiles at Yixing, only a small smile which reveals just the tip of his teeth and lines his skin with faint curves beside his eyes.
“I’ve got to get to Quidditch practice but, nice seeing you Yixing,” he says, tucking the newspaper beneath his arm and walking away. He offers one last wave before the door to the café closes behind him and he disappears into the hustle of the street crowd. Yixing stands there for a moment, slack-jawed in awe at the fact that Wu Fan, king of Keepers, Captain of the Chinese National Quidditch team and now world champion, just offered to pay for his drink.
Lu Han comes up behind him, coffee in one hand, as he shakes Yixing by the shoulders none too lightly.
“So, what happened?”
“I think…I think I love him,” Yixing says, and Lu Han almost spills the entirety of his coffee down Yixing’s shirt in response.
*
They’re in their hotel room when an owl hurtles through the open window. It’s not one of those regular scruffy Barn Owls but a sleek Eagle Owl with a blackened beak and ear tufts. It settles on the bedside table and offers out its leg, beady eyes scrutinising Yixing closely.
Yixing, who admittedly is slightly terrified of such a regal bird, carefully removes the scroll of paper attached to its leg. The letter is in a beautiful gold ink and Yixing’s heart race picks up when his eyes graze over the crest of the Chinese National Quidditch team stamped at the bottom.
“What is it?” Lu Han asks, adjusting his clothes in the mirror.
“It’s….from Wu Fan.”
Lu Han’s eyebrows rise.
“What?”
“He’s invited us to an exclusive party with all of the Quidditch players.”
Lu Han’s eyebrows shoot even higher, disappearing beneath the mess of light hair on his forehead. A grin begins to work itself across his lips.
“I think our favourite Keeper likes you,” Lu Han says amusedly, grin only widening as Yixing flushes bright red.
“Shut up,” he says weakly, thumb smoothing over a crease in the letter. Lu Han moves over, resting a chin on Yixing’s shoulder as his arms wind around Yixing’s waist. He is silent for a moment - Yixing supposes he must be reading the letter - when a puff of air in the form of laughter warms his cheek.
“It says “if you want you can bring your boyfriend from the coffee shop.” He thinks I’m your boyfriend?”
Yixing snorts and gestures vaguely to their position they’re in.
“Well do you blame him?”
Lu Han laughs and detaches himself, falling sideways onto his mattress.
“Well then, we have two days to make you irresistible to the most famous Quidditch player in the world. Do you think we can do it?”
Yixing chooses to answer him by sitting on his stomach.
*
“Is my tie on straight? Do I have anything in my teeth? How does my hair look?”
“For the last time Yixing, you look fine,” Lu Han sighs in exasperation, pushing him along not-so-gently from behind. “Now let’s go find that lover boy of yours.”
Yixing frowns at him, fixing the collar of his shirt.
“Can you please stop calling him that?”
“Fine. How about golden snitch?”
Yixing raises an eyebrow in confusion.
“What?”
“Because you’ve been searching for someone like him your whole life.”
Lu Han waggles his eyebrows and Yixing elbows him in the ribs, just as Wu Fan walks up from behind them.
“Yixing, you made it,” he says and Yixing leaps at least a few inches off the ground. (Who needs a broom to fly really, Yixing seems to be able do that all by himself.)
“Uh, hi Wu Fan, this is Lu Han.”
Lu Han nods politely and the smile on his face is far too devious for Yixing’s liking.
“Hi, I’m Lu Han, we met once before after the World Cup game, and I think you should know that I’m definitely not Yixing’s boyfriend.”
Wu Fan goes a bit red and coughs; flustered.
“Okay, that’s er- good I suppose?”
Lu Han’s grin just widens.
“Oh it certainly is good,” he says, tacking on a whispered, “for you.”
He urges Yixing forward with a swift kick to the shin and twirls on his heel.
“I’m going to go get a drink and meet some famous people. See you in a few hours Yixing,” he sings, disappearing almost immediately into the crowd.
Wu Fan blinks at Yixing and his cheeks flush again - Yixing vaguely wonders if he has had too much to drink already.
“I’m glad you could come,” Wu Fan says slowly, and his eyes seem to wander across Yixing’s face, down over his neck and slightly exposed collarbone, across the expanse of his suit. It’s a little intense and Yixing shifts awkwardly.
“Me too. I’ve always wanted to be able to come to one of these.”
Wu Fan nods, smile quirking on his lips.
“Of course you have.” He coughs again. “So Yixing, what do you do? Apart from stalking Quidditch players of course.”
Yixing laughs a bit at that, hiding a smile behind his curled fingers.
“I’m a healer actually. I work in a small hospital in Changsha.”
Wu Fan’s eyes widen, comical surprise gracing his expression.
“Oh? You don’t seem the type to be a healer.”
It’s not meant as in insult but Yixing feels himself bristle regardless.
“Why because I’m a hardcore Quidditch fan?” he asks, and Wu Fan shakes his head hurriedly, noticing he has slightly offended Yixing.
“No it’s just - we’ll you’re really young.”
Yixing raises an eyebrow and Wu Fan smiles softly.
“I guess most of the healers I’ve been around are old wizards who know Quidditch injuries inside out,” he explains and Yixing hums in understanding.
They slip into easy conversation after that and talk for the good part of an hour before Lu Han returns, an empty glass in one hand a slight swagger in his step.
“Yixing, come meet my new friend,” he says, looping his arm through Yixing’s at the elbow, tugging him away. Yixing sends Wu Fan an apologetic glance, the latter laughing and excusing him with a wave. Lu Han’s “friend” turns out to be the Chinese team’s coach, a Korean man named Minseok who is well known as the best Quidditch coach in Asia. Minseok seems almost as drunk as Lu Han, cheeks red, hair mussed, and eyes glazed a little.
It still sends a prickle of nervousness through Yixing to be so close to another one of his idols but that nervousness vanishes in a mere instant when Lu Han drapes an arm across Minseok’s shoulders and the latter laughs before pressing a sloppy kiss against his cheek.
“So by friend you mean…” Yixing begins, amusement gurgling into laughter. Lu Han blinks widely at him before he grins, rather creepily, Yixing thinks.
“I love him,” Lu Han says, before he nuzzles their noses together and giggles. Trust Lu Han to never do things in halves really. Yixing pries him away from Minseok as best as he can, earning a glare from the two of them.
“You don’t love him, don’t be ridiculous Lu Han.”
Lu Han pouts and it would probably be adorable if he wasn’t all hot and sweaty from dancing and there wasn’t the overpowering stench of Firewhisky on his breath.
“I do! Just like how you love Wu Fan!”
Minseok makes a low sound of intrigue in his throat and leans closer.
“You love Wu Fan?”
“I don’t love him I just- I appreciate his Quidditch skills.”
Lu Han snorts, far too loudly for Yixing’s liking.
“You appreciate his hotness Yixing, please.”
Yixing rolls his eyes and immediately makes himself busy talking to a Quidditch player nearby, viciously plotting Lu Han’s untimely death in his head.
*As the night draws to a close, when Lu Han has already gone back to their hotel and Yixing has spoken to most of the Quidditch players in the room at least once (and collected ten autographs in the process), he decides to leave. He is nearing the edge of his sanity, feeling exhaustion dull his senses and he yawns, draping his coat around his shoulders and crossing his arms across his chest.
Yixing is about to step outside to apparate back to their hotel room when fingers catch his wrist and hold him back. He turns to see Wu Fan looking at him, gaze intense and cheeks slightly flushed.
“Yixing before you go I was just wondering, did you want to come watch us practice tomorrow?”
Yixing inhales sharply, the cold night air piercing his lungs with an icy shock.
“As in, watch your team play Quidditch?”
Wu Fan chuckles softly.
“That is generally what we do when we practice…” He trails off, looking a little hopeful and a little like a lost puppy dog and Yixing feels like screaming.
“Why?” he says, instead of shouting the various forms of agreement currently flying through his head. He regrets it until Wu Fan swallows and looks away, the flush on his cheeks darkening in the dull light which escapes from the party behind him.
“I just thought you would enjoy it since you’re such a big fan,” he says slowly and Yixing’s lips quirk into a smile.
“You aren’t going to let me live that label down are you?”
Wu Fan laughs and brushes the hair away from his face, a twinkle in his eyes. His mouth is set in a wavering line, fighting against a smile.
“Probably not.”
Yixing nods and exhales, breath creating a cloud of mist in the air before him.
“Of course I want to come. You can send me an owl about it tomorrow morning or something.”
A satisfied smile finally breaks across Wu Fan’s lips and he relaxes, fingers playing with the folds of his shirt sleeves, rolled up just above his elbow.
“Alright,” he says and he is about to go back inside when Yixing stops him.
“Wait, how did you even know where I was staying in England to begin with?”
A twinge of embarrassment flashes across his face.
“I have...contacts,” he says hesitantly and Yixing has this fleeting idea that Wu Fan is basically just as much of a stalker as he is, which sends a trickle of laughter passing over his lips, stopped by a quick hand pressed to his mouth. Wu Fan smiles in response and offers a curt wave.
“See you tomorrow then Yixing.”
Yixing bites his bottom lip to stop his grin from splitting his face in half.
*
Wu Fan takes Yixing to Quidditch practice the following afternoon.
Yixing sits on the edge of the grass pitch, knees bent up and arms draped loosely around them. It’s almost surreal to watch the team he has followed for almost all of his life so close and personal. Without even the use of Omnioculars, he can see the look of frustration that passes the Chaser’s face when she fumbles the Quaffle, the way the Seeker’s eyebrows furrow as he searches for the snitch - the way Wu Fan’s gaze is so often distracted by Yixing.
It sends his heartbeat skittering around in his chest to see Wu Fan’s eyes so often drawn to his own, the flicker of a smile on his lips, and the knowledge that his presence is making some sort of difference.
The players all file off the pitch when the sun begins to set and Wu Fan immediately walks over to Yixing, specks of golden light dancing across his hair as the world is set against a warm hue of orange and pink.
“I’m sorry if that was boring,” is the first thing he says and Yixing snorts softly, getting to his feet.
“You think I would find watching my favourite Quidditch team in the world practice boring?”
Wu Fan smiles and some emotion swirls inside his eyes which Yixing can’t quite pinpoint.
“I guess not,” he says, gloved fingers holding his broom loosely against his side. He stands there for a moment and Yixing thinks he looks complete like this, in his Quidditch gear and with a broom by his side, hair all windswept and eyes shining. Wu Fan tilts his head, eyes grazing Yixing’s face.
“Do you fly?”
“Only sometimes. I never was that good really.”
Wu Fan hums and he looks hesitant for a moment, before he holds out his broomstick
“Would you like to?”
Yixing knows that he is gaping but he doesn’t really care.
“What?”
“It’s not the broomstick I use for the actual games,” he explains, although Yixing already knows this. Wu Fan’s real broomstick is a custom made Firebolt 2.0 painted with a gold sheen and with his name engraved into the handle. The one he holds out now is just a Nimbus 2000, a fairly old model considering the influx of broomsticks in the recent years but a model good enough to practice on.
Yixing reaches out to grasp the handle.
“Oh god I haven’t flown in so long,” he whispers and Wu Fan smiles gently. He swings one leg over the handle, in front of where Yixing’s hand lies, and gestures behind him.
“Then let me help.”
Yixing’s eyes grow very wide and he swallows the rising screech of exhilaration. Shakily, he slips over the broom behind Wu Fan, knees bent and unsure where to place his hands. Wu Fan laughs and, with a small kick to the ground, he bends over the broomstick and they take off. The sudden jolt of motion sends Yixing scrambling for a hold and his arms automatically wind around Wu Fan’s chest, moving as close as he can.
“It’s not really made for two,” Wu Fan says, and his breath is warm against Yixing’s clasped hands. Yixing’s nose presses into his shoulder, chin buried the back of Wu Fan’s jacket. And Wu Fan is right, the broom tilts slightly, unstable in its flight but Wu Fan seems to be able to control it well enough, urging it upwards with a twist of his body.
And then they are gliding across the pitch, twirling higher and higher, dancing in the light of the sun and Yixing wonders how much further the clouds sit above them. As Wu Fan makes a sharp turn, Yixing clings to him tighter, legs curled up as close to the broom handle as they can go.
Wu Fan laughs and his hair tickles Yixing’s cheek. His heart races beneath Yixing’s fingertips and Yixing feels a surge of exhilaration and disbelief, setting his own heartbeat soaring with the flight of the broom. It’s beautiful, the way Wu Fan smiles, his eyes alight with true happiness and he seems completed, like he was made to fly.
They climb higher and higher and then Wu Fan grins before they take off at a ridiculous speed angled towards the ground. Yixing is unable to stop a scream of terror from being ripped from his throat but as Wu Fan pulls up at the last minute, and Yixing’s body falls even further into the back of Wu Fan’s, Yixing lets out a laugh of elation.
They slow to a stop, a smooth deceleration that lands them perfectly in the grass. They both get off, Yixing trembling slightly, but his veins powered with adrenalin. Wu Fan holds the broom beside him, eyes dancing.
“So, what do you think?”
His hair is even more messed up from the wind now, cheeks flushed a little, lips pulled into a dorky smile and Yixing feels an intense urge to lean forward and kiss him.
Yixing swallows the knot in his throat.
“It was amazing,” he says softly and the brilliant smile that lights up Wu Fan’s face is far brighter than the sun setting on the horizon.
*
Yixing is sitting in the hotel room when there is a knock on the door. Lu Han, who is currently busy writing out a lovely long, and most probably cringe inducing letter to Minseok, waves at Yixing to open it. Yixing sighs and makes his way over, still in his loose pyjama bottoms and missing a shirt. When he opens the door, he suddenly feels like dying because of fucking course it would be Wu Fan standing there.
“H-h-hi,” he stammers, blushing profusely because oh my god he is currently half naked. Wu Fan is really not making it any easier, an eyebrow rising so high it disappears into his hair as his eyes drift almost lazily across Yixing’s bare chest. Yixing shivers self-consciously and Wu Fan seems to catch himself, averting his gaze immediately.
He scratches his head awkwardly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. I was going to send an owl over but I thought I should come in person.”
Lu Han appears behind Yixing, propping his chin on Yixing’s shoulder to see who it is.
“Oh, hi Wu Fan,” he snorts, and then slithers off again, returning to his sickeningly sweet love letter. Wu Fan frowns after him but his attention quickly returns to Yixing. His hands twist and turn before him and he seems like his is trying to muster up the courage to say something, mouth opening before the potential words breeze out in a sigh of defeat. Yixing, who is feeling more self-conscious by the second and would very much like to go back inside, throw a shirt on, and possibly jump out the window from embarrassment, shifts uncomfortably.
“What’s wrong?”
Wu Fan sighs again.
“Yixing I just - I wanted to ask - can I buy you a drink sometime? You know, since I didn’t get to that other day at the cafe.”
He swallows, but doesn’t look away. Yixing feels himself falling into Wu Fan’s eyes - falling deeper into whatever this might be. Because there is no way Wu Fan has come all this way and gone to so much effort just to repay something he had offered offhandedly a few days ago.
“Are you asking me out?” he says slowly, gauging Wu Fan’s reaction. Wu Fan’s forehead wrinkles in a frown, and something akin to nervousness flickers across his eyes. It’s so very vulnerable and so very human, that for a moment, Yixing forgets that Wu Fan happens to be an international Quidditch star. Here, he is just Wu Fan - the slightly awkward guy Yixing met in that coffee shop. Wu Fan presses his lips together in a thin line and exhales through his nose.
“I just - I guess I never thought my biggest fan would be so attractive,” he mumbles and Yixing can’t help it - he snorts. Wu Fan flushes even darker and finally looks away, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks.
Yixing feels a violent urge to throw up.
“You think I’m attractive?” he asks weakly, bracing himself on the side of the door, because damn, he can’t even feel his legs anymore. He is pretty sure he is gaping like a goldfish right about now.
Wu Fan looks like he wants to sink into the ground which is so utterly adorable that Yixing actually tears up a little.
“Well, yes.”
There aren’t really words to describe how very fucking much Yixing wants to accept so he settles with a garbled-
“ohmygodareyouseriousofcourseIwill.”
Wu Fan tilts his head in confusion, but Yixing doesn’t trust himself to explain any further so he nods aggressively, smile so wide that it hurts his mouth.
A relieved smile breaks across Wu Fan’s lips and he laughs lightly.
“How does tonight sound?”
Yixing has to remember how to breathe.
“Tonight sounds perfect.”
*
They end up in a small restaurant in a backstreet of London. The enchantment causes it to appear as a dilapidated building but as they enter, Yixing can’t help but gasp at the sheer decadence of the place.
Wu Fan notices and his lips pull into a content smile.
“It’s nice isn’t it? I always come here when I visit London.”
The waiter shows them to a table at the corner of the room, away from prying eyes. Already Wu Fan has caused a few head turns and whispers follow them to their seats. Yixing isn’t entirely sure if he likes the attention and he can see that Wu Fan certainly doesn’t, the latter kindly asking for a charm to be cast around their area for privacy.
“I’m sorry that we have to be so discreet,” he says softly, fingers playing with the fork placed at the edge of the plate. Yixing hums, distracted by the way Wu Fan’s mouth is so small, how it curves into a gentle smile when his eyes move up and rest on Yixing. “I mean the rest of the wizarding world don’t even know that I like guys you know? And I don’t think my manager would enjoy that publicity.”
Yixing nods, understanding.
“Wu Fan, you can trust me when I say that I really don’t give a shit at all because the fact that I am currently on a date with you kind of overrides everything else.”
It’s a bit of a thoughtless blurt of words but Yixing doesn’t mind when Wu Fan blinks and colour rushes across his cheeks.
“I’m glad,” he says, and the following curve of lips makes Yixing’s heart somersault in his chest.
“So,” Yixing says, feeling a sudden influx of brazenness, “do you take your fans out on dates often then?” He feels more relaxed around Wu Fan tonight, it’s as though everything else is discarded - all of the money, the fame, the titles. It was Wu Fan who asked Yixing out, albeit fairly awkwardly, and it is Wu Fan who is sitting before him, all nervous and flustered and so very perfect.
Wu Fan laughs and hides his face behind his hand for a moment, an embarrassed pull of lips peeking out from the side of his palm.
“Never actually, so excuse me if I’m not very good at it.”
Something almost arrogant sparks in Yixing’s chest at that, a feeling of exclusivity that certainly alleviates any worries about previous competition. He raises an eyebrow in disbelief though, thumb stroking the edge of his glass.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But surely fans have asked you out before?”
Wu Fan sighs.
“Of course, I’ve just never said yes.”
Yixing looks at him from beneath lowered eyelashes.
“So then, what makes me so different.”
There is a pause and then -
“Because you didn’t ask.” Yixing is about to push the response when Wu Fan begins again.
“I mean, you seem to be able to look past that. Well sometimes anyway. It’s like you see me for me, and not just like some all powerful God or something, you treat me like I’m human. It’s nice,” he finishes lamely with a stupid smile on his face that really makes Yixing want to cover it with his own mouth.
“Oh,” is all he can say, and the word is breathless, a sense of underlying awe laced within it.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to come up with an additional response, because the waiters arrive with the entrée.
Yixing finds that they get along well, away from a social setting even when it’s just the two of them. Wu Fan is far less confident when he is one his own and not supported by anyone else, but Yixing can see that there is a desire to impress which sparks in Wu Fan’s eyes occasionally alongside a swirl of affection. He tells Yixing of how he used to love Quidditch but his father would tell him to give it up and try for a real job. He tells Yixing that it was then, he decided that he would prove himself not only to his family, but to the world. He tells Yixing many stories about his past, of mistakes and failures, of small achievements which boosted morale, of all of the difficulties he faced.
Yixing sits there almost mesmerised, completely immersed in everything Wu Fan says until they realise they are the only two left in the restaurant and the staff are waiting for them to leave.
They walk back along the darkened street outside, a slight sheen to the cobbled pavement from rain which must have fallen which they were having dinner. Yixing shivers in the cold and Wu Fan looks at him, hesitant for a moment, before a large arm pulls him close to Wu Fan’s warmth.
“Can’t have you getting sick on your holiday,” he says, and Yixing bites back a smile.
They reach the end of the street where there is an absence of street lights. It’s dark enough to apparate here without being seen by muggles, and Wu Fan must be thinking the same thing because he turns to Yixing, a smile on his face and the moon glinting in his eyes.
“I’m glad I met you Yixing,” he says and Yixing lets himself smile properly this time, a soft laugh issuing through his lips. Wu Fan reaches his free hand over, poking the side of his mouth, where Yixing knows his dimple sits.
“It’s cute,” Wu Fan mumbles and Yixing feels himself sigh, emotion freewheeling inside his chest. Wu Fan’s smile softens and his gaze intensifies slightly as the fingers against Yixing’s face traces the line of his jaw, thumb pressing into his chin. With a nervous swallow, Wu Fan leans forward and presses a light kiss beside Yixing’s mouth, hovering for a moment, before pulling back completely. Yixing feels his heartbeat flutter and there is nothing he wants to do more than pull Wu Fan towards him and kiss him until neither of them can breathe and yet he doesn’t, he just inhales slowly and smiles, heat fanning out across his cheeks.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Wu Fan asks, vulnerable and tentative.
“Definitely,” Yixing whispers and with a crack, Wu Fan is gone.
*
It’s the day after the date and Wu Fan had turned up at their door early the next morning, an eager expression his face. Lu Han had helped Yixing dress in a low slung singlet top that according to his friend “revealed his magnificent collarbones” or something equally disturbing, but clearly Lu Han must have some sort of eye for fashion as Wu Fan’s eyes have been drifting across the expanse of bare skin near Yixing’s neck for the last ten minutes.
Yixing hums quietly to himself, swinging his arms as he walks. Wu Fan’s hand is by his side, seemingly hesitant between moving to curl against the small of Yixing’s back or remain as is.
“Actually, you know it would be best if we went back to my place,” Wu Fan says suddenly.
Yixing feels himself flush and notes that Wu Fan’s skin also turns a pink hue.
“That’s not - that’s not what I meant. I just mean because it’s out of the way. And they’ve given us each a really great place to stay in while we’re here for the month.”
A month, Yixing thinks drearily, when he and Lu Han are only in England for less than a week.
“Here,” Wu Fan says, holding out his arm, which Yixing takes gratefully, “I’ll take you.”
There is pop and whoosh around Yixing’s ears as his head spins. The world warps into darkness and then illuminates in a burst of vibrant colour - the sun replaced with a hanging chandelier and the street vanishing beneath a deep red wallpaper.
“Wow,” Yixing breathes, taking a good look around. They’re in some sort of lounge room, an archway leading directly into a stainless steel kitchen where a glass table stands. There are photos of famous Quidditch players lining the walls and a framed photo of the Chinese National team above the lounge. A dark golden Firebolt 2.0 sits perfectly in a stand beside the fireplace.
“They seriously went all out for you didn’t they?” Yixing says, voice still hushed in a kind of quiet awe. He walks over to the Firebolt 2.0 and gently touches it, as Wu Fan makes a strangled sound in his throat. Yixing looks back to see Wu Fan watching him with a conflicted expression, evidently not comfortable with the thought of someone else touching his precious broom.
His nose is wrinkled and his eyes are caught halfway in a frown, lips bared over his teeth. It’s protective and it’s cute and Yixing almost wants to pull the broom stick off the stand just to see Wu Fan’s reaction.
“I’m sorry,” Wu Fan says, “I just don’t really like people going near it.” His hands are curled into fists and Yixing walks over, and slowly, almost instinctively, but with a sense of great caution, he reaches down and unfurls Wu Fan’s fingers before linking their hands together.
“Well it’s beautiful,” he says quietly and Wu Fan swallows, tongue darting out to quickly wet his dry lips.
“Thanks,” he replies, an edge of shyness to his tone.
“Are you going to show me the rest of the house now?” Yixing asks. The fingers around his tighten slightly, a small squeeze of hope, of something new and everything in between.
“Alright.”
The house is beautiful, and Yixing becomes more and more amazed as Wu Fan gives him a small tour around its confines. It’s far from anything Yixing could even afford, and this only a temporary house, just to accommodate Wu Fan in his stay in England. They spend a few hours wandering around before curling up on the couch, with Wu Fan at one end and Yixing at the other, engrossed in a conversation about the development of new healing charms. An alarm rings and Wu Fan jolts to attention, muttering a quick cessation spell to stop the sound.
“I’m sorry Yixing, I completely forgot, but I actually have to be at press conference now with the rest of the team.”
He looks a little guilty, and Yixing reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against Wu Fan’s knee.
“That’s alright. I don’t mind.”
“You can come if you want,” Wu Fan says, and there’s this hopeful glint in his eye that suggests that he certainly wouldn’t mind, so Yixing feels himself automatically reply with a smile and a nod of his head.
Wu Fan quickly changes into something a little nicer before draping his golden Quidditch cloak over his shoulders. He looks amazing dressed up like this, with a white shirt and a pair of perfectly creased black pants, a ring on his finger and a dragon necklace dropping down on his neck, just peeking out from beneath his unbuttoned collar. Yixing’s fingers curl around Wu Fan’s offered arm, eyes watching him closely.
“You look good,” Yixing manages to choke out, and the last thing he sees is Wu Fan’s brilliant smile turned in his direction, before the interior of the house disappears with a crack, and they end up in a small auditorium.
The interview starts almost right away. The Quidditch team all stand in a perfect row on the stage in a staggered height order so as not to create any glaring differences. Wu Fan is at one end, wand held at his throat to magnify his voice as he answers questions. The flash from the cameras is more than disconcerting and it makes Yixing feels slightly faint so he decides to retreat behind the curtain across the back of the stage. He exhales and closes his eyes, smiling as he hears Wu Fan answer a question about what they hope to achieve next year.
“Well I’d certainly like to keep a hold of this trophy,” he says lightly, issuing a murmured chuckle throughout the room.
“And what about your personal life,” a high-pitched voice pipes up, “all of our readers at Witch Weekly would love to know if the Captain of the most famous Quidditch team in the world is currently available?”
Wu Fan coughs, and Yixing peeks around the curtain to see an embarrassed quirk of lips on the Keeper’s face.
“I’m seeing someone actually,” he says and the small Witch eagerly taking down notes on her parchment grins toothily as she raises an eyebrow. A few of his teammates exchange surprised glances too, but nothing more is said about it.
After a few more questions, the team files off from the stage and quickly walk away. Wu Fan is the last to leave, smiling for a few more photos and signing a couple of parchments before he slips behind the curtain. He sees Yixing immediately and grins.
“So, you’re seeing someone are you? I’m a little jealous,” Yixing says in a playful tone.
Wu Fan snorts and his lips curve into a teasing smile.
“Yeah, you should be. He’s really hot.”
He says it so easily, but seems to cringe almost immediately after, a wave of humiliation overcoming him. Yixing covers up a laugh with his hand because he loves the way Wu Fan does this - how occasionally his words slip through without a thought and are almost immediately followed by a characteristic flailing and awkwardness.
Yixing just smiles softly and presses a little closer, feeling the warmth of Wu Fan before him.
“I’m glad you think so,” he says, fingers trailing up Wu Fan’s chest, before falling to his side as he steps back. Wu Fan bites back a laugh and loops an arm around Yixing’s shoulders, pulling Yixing along beside him as they walk away.
*
“You know this was supposed to be a holiday,” Lu Han says as he glares at Yixing from his breakfast the next morning, viciously stabbing at a pancake, “and by holiday I didn’t mean a time for you to actually live your dream of getting your hands beneath Wu Fan’s Quidditch gear.”
Yixing shoots him a narrowed look.
“Oh so then did I hear wrong that you and Minseok spent most of yesterday shopping together?”
Lu Han sneers at him before rolling his eyes.
“Possibly.” He falls quiet suddenly, hand stilling in its motion, a sliver of pancake falling to his plate.
“But I do want to spend more time with you,” Lu Han says and Yixing smiles, reaching over to stuff some of his own pancake in Lu Han’s mouth.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. Let’s do something today.”
“A double date?” Lu Han says, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, much to Yixing’s amusement.
“Sure,” Yixing says with a wave of his hand. Lu Han grins at him and immediately begins plotting out a thousand different plans at a ridiculous speed. Yixing blinks; bewildered.
“I take it back,” Yixing says, and Lu Han throws a map of London at Yixing’s head.
*
They meet Wu Fan and Minseok at the markets, because Lu Han had wanted to be a proper tourist and Yixing hadn’t been shopping yet. Wu Fan smiles and almost immediately gravitates to Yixing’s side, and Yixing leans against him, feeling contentment embrace his heart. He is wearing dark sunglasses and some kind of atrocious purple hat which Yixing excuses considering at least this way he is less likely to be recognised.
“This place is usually full of Muggles anyway,” Wu Fan says, noticing Yixing’s look, “so it’s probably not necessary but I thought - well, I didn’t want us to be interrupted”
Yixing flicks the brim of the hat with a grin before linking their pinkies together, bumping their shoulders against each other.
“If anyone stops us, I give you full permission to whisk us away on your broomstick.”
Wu Fan grins and just pulls him closer, fingers creeping around Yixing’s waist. He’s testing their boundaries and Yixing is not bothered in the slightest, making sure Wu Fan knows he is alright with it by relaxing against him.
“So,” Lu Han says, glancing between Wu Fan and Minseok, “Are you two going to be our tour guides then?”
Minseok shrugs, “I’ve only been here a few times. Wu Fan knows the place better than me.”
Wu Fan tilts his head.
“I can get us around. I know enough English to get by too.”
“You can speak English?” Lu Han asks, and it’s Yixing who answers.
“Yeah, he learnt English growing up in Canada.”
All eyes turn to Yixing - Lu Han’s look of judgement, Minseok’s surprise, and Wu Fan’s eyes sparkling with amusement. Yixing cringes and ducks his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says, embarrassment flooding his features. Wu Fan nudges his chin up with a touch of his thumb.
“You’re a little terrifying you know that?” Wu Fan says with a grin of amusement, which only causes Yixing to curl inwards in further embarrassment. Lu Han laughs loudly.
“Good, I’m glad you agree with me,” he says, and Yixing elbows him in the ribs. Lu Han leans closer to Wu Fan, a hand propped up beside his mouth in an exaggerated attempt at secrecy. “Wait until you see his room,” he stage whispers and Wu Fan looks at him.
“Oh?”
Lu Han doesn’t respond, he just nods, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in implication. Wu Fan laughs and pulls Yixing along as Lu Han and Minseok follow close behind them.
“I say we start over here,” he shouts above the noise of the crowd, and his fingers press into Yixing’s hip, slipping a little beneath the fabric so that there is a touch of warmth against his skin. Yixing smiles and Wu Fan grins in response.
They spend most of the day in the markets, a productive shopping trip which sees Yixing with at four bags of souvenirs and small trinkets and Lu Han with at least twice as many. Although Wu Fan leads the way, Minseok and Lu Han seem to dawdle behind, getting distracted by every shop keeper and anything that sparkles. It allows for Wu Fan to pull closer to Yixing, to whisper something with a cold nose pressed into Yixing’s neck, to link their hands together, to make quiet comments and even softer words of adoration. Yixing feels like they are on a real date, not with the fancy atmosphere of a restaurant but something far more substantial. And, he realises that he loves it.
They catch the underground back and end up walking down to the London Eye which Minseok insists that they go to, managing to get in a carriage just as the sun begins to set, much to Yixing’s joy. He stands with Wu Fan at one edge, tourists all around the glass with their cameras ready and their exclamations of awe. Clouds roll over the city, carrying an imminent darkness with them and stars already glitter across the reds and pinks streaked through the sky.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Wu Fan says and his voice is low, just beside Yixing’s ear. Yixing hums in agreement and his gaze drifts from the window to Wu Fan’s face, to the golden lights that play in his eyes and the way his skin is softened in the light of the setting sun but dark shadows are thrown from his jaw. With a deliberate movement, Yixing lifts a hand and gently touches Wu Fan’s cheek, pressing the pads of his fingers against it just hard enough to create a dip in his skin. Wu Fan watches him, confusion laced with amusement.
“What’s wrong?” Wu Fan asks, and his breath his warm as it breezes across Yixing’s fingertips.
Yixing blinks.
“Nothing. And that’s what’s so amazing.”
Wu Fan’s lips tweak upwards into a slow smile, something magical that curves across his mouth and creases his eyes into crescent moons. He licks his lips, mouth parting a little.
“Yixing,” he says quietly, so as no one else can over hear them, “I want to kiss you.”
Yixing inhales, the laugh which threatens to spill from his mouth is stuck in his throat.
“You don’t have to ask,” he says weakly and the last thing he sees is Wu Fan’s smile widening before lips are pressed against his, warm and inviting, something slow in an attempt to indulge in the moment. Yixing’s hands fall feebly to his side as Wu Fan’s arms snake around his back, pulling him closer. Perfection doesn’t even really describe it, because Yixing is suffocating from his emotion, affection choking him, adoration squeezing his heart; he wants to melt into the kiss and never let go.
He does step away though, because the railing is digging painfully into his back and it’s also getting rather difficult to breathe.
Wu Fan wrinkles his nose and it’s nothing short of adorable.
“I’m glad you are my biggest fan Yixing,” he says with the faint hint of a smirk. Yixing narrows his eyes and pokes him in the stomach, earning a satisfying “oof” from Wu Fan who jerks away. He gives Yixing a wounded look and sighs, fingers finding Yixing’s own.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Somewhere along the way I became your biggest fan too so I guess we’re even,” Wu Fan says, and Yixing really wants to voice his disgust at how cheesy that is but instead, he places a light kiss against Wu Fan’s lips, before pulling him close with a sigh, a smile flickering on his face as they watch the sun disappear beyond the city together.
*
Yixing sits in his room working on a new paper about developments in the treatment of Spattergroit. It’s dark outside, with just a small candle flickering beside him, enough to illuminate the parchment and each delicate curl of ink from his quill. They’ve been back in China for a few weeks now, and even though Yixing hasn’t seen Wu Fan in person, he sees him every day in interviews and appearances - the Quidditch star has taken over almost every single wizarding newspaper in China.
Yixing sighs and waits for the ink to dry before he rolls up the parchment. He’s cleaning the quill when there is a loud crack and he falls out of his chair.
“What the fuck…” he says, leaping to his feet. Wu Fan stands in his room, blinking widely at the posters on his wall.
“So Lu Han really wasn’t lying when he mentioned your room.”
Yixing flushes, inwardly cursing himself for forgetting to take down the numerous Quidditch posters aligning his walls. There is a particularly large one of Wu Fan sitting just beside his bed and Wu Fan raises an eyebrow, seemingly about to comment, before Yixing cuts over him.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to apparate into someone’s room uninvited?”
Wu Fan looks a little sheepish.
“Well, Lu Han invited me…”
His gaze falls on Yixing, the pull of his lips playful. They look at each other for a good moment, Yixing letting himself soak in every aspect of the man standing before him, as an overwhelming ache of desire and want pangs in his chest. Wu Fan inhales, eyes dark as he walks over slowly.
“I’m back from England now,” he says softly.
Yixing smiles, a soft laugh issuing through his mouth.
“Thank god. Even three weeks was too long.”
Wu Fan’s fingers dance up his arms, finding the curve of Yixing’s shoulder and squeezing gently. His breath is warm as it ghosts across Yixing’s lips.
“Yixing, I really like you,” he says, a crooked smile on his face, thumb brushing against the curve of Yixing’s jaw.
Yixing, despite himself, feels his heart melt almost immediately.
“I like you too,” he replies. Wu Fan snorts, gaze pointedly falling on the posters.
“I can tell,” he says and Yixing nudges him with a glare.
“No, I like you. I like your stupid self - the Wu Fan who is all shy and awkward and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. I like silly, lanky, loser Wu Fan, not Captain of the Quidditch Team Wu Fan.
Wu Fan smiles and leans closer.
“So you don’t like Captain of the Quidditch Team Wu Fan?”
Yixing grins and presses their lips together.
“Well, I guess he’s pretty awesome too,” Yixing mumbles against his mouth before snaking an arm around Wu Fan’s neck to pull him closer, standing on his toes to alleviate their height difference as Wu Fan bends his knees slightly to accommodate. Wu Fan sighs into the kiss, fingers pressing into Yixing’s hips, slipping just beneath his shirt and Yixing thinks love is almost too shallow a word to describe what he feels right now.
Wu Fan pulls back a little, enough for Yixing to see the indignant furrow of his eyebrows.
“And I’m not a loser. I’ll have you know that I-”
Yixing decides to shut him up with a kiss.
--
AN: the prompt was quidditch player kris and fanboy yixing but this is all kinds of ridiculous AND IM SORRY? I found this easy to write in the beginning but then had so many issues with the development, and I was all over the place with it but it was a whole lot of fun :3 I HOPE YOU LIKE IT MELISSA ♥ I almost like quidditch captain kris more than basketball captain kris now haha~
{ Are you a golden snitch? Because I've been seeking for something like you my whole life. }
Pairings: Kris/Lay (Xiumin/Luhan)
Genre: Harry Potter!AU, comedy, romance
Rating: G
Wordcount: 10, 425
Summary: Wu Fan is the captain of the Chinese National Quidditch Team. Yixing is his biggest fan. Written for uchouten for exoforsichuan ♥
“Calm down Yixing, before you explode from excitement.”
Yixing lowers his Omnioculars and looks at Lu Han, rolling his eyes.
“Shut up.”
“Your obsessive dream to get in Wu Fan’s pants is practically being broadcast to the entire stadium,” Lu Han says with a smirk, fiddling with the striped scarf fitted snugly around his neck. Yixing makes a disgusted sound in his throat and shoves at Lu Han.
“Stop being a dick. I didn’t bring you along to the Quidditch World Cup to hear you make fun of me.”
“Oh please,” Lu Han drawls, “you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you bought me that ticket you liar.” He looks slightly ridiculous with two streaks of paint on his cheeks; the gold and red of China’s colours.
Yixing huffs a laugh and goes back to looking through the Omnioculars. The crowd is enormous, filling the entire arena until people spill out of the seats and line up against the railings. Advertisements flash up on the enormous billboards, all in English with Chinese subtitles beneath.
The atmosphere is buzzing with electricity. For the last few months, the world cup has been hyped up by all sorts of media outlets, honing in on the fact that China is the first Asian team to ever reach the finals. The Quidditch World Cup is already the biggest sporting event in the wizarding world and with this new novelty tacked on, its popularity has seemed to reach even greater heights this year. Yixing is certain that the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad are working overtime to compensate for the soar in “strange” incidents witnessed by muggles in the area.
There is a distinction half-way across the stadium where the red and gold of the Chinese team is halted by the red and white of the English. The red connects them together though, like a trickle of unity amidst the overwhelming difference of the supporters. Yixing can see the ripple of a wave across the colours and a huge “England for 2013” in blazing letters hovering above the crowd. A shiver of anticipation tickles down his spine and he can’t help but smile, clutching the Omnioculars close to his chest.
There is a cough and then a voice booms out, a translation charm quickly ushered which ripples out across the spectators in a golden hue before curling around in a spherical figure.
“Welcome, my fellow wizards and witches and warlocks and squibs and all other magical creatures who managed to get past security, to the four hundred and forty-first Quidditch world cup!” the deep voice says, echoing around the stadium. “And now, let me hear you make some noise for the Chinese National Quidditch Team making history tonight as the first Asian Quidditch team to reach the finals!”
The Chinese team zoom onto the pitch, streaks of gold issuing from the tips of their brooms, dark clouds trailing in their wake, as the crowd on Yixing’s side erupts in screams. Yixing presses the Omnioculars to his eyes, blinking violently as he searches for the captain. And he sees him, right at the front as he leads the way, blond hair swept back by the wind, gold cloak billowing around him, eyes narrowed in concentration and determination. His posture is perfectly arched over the broom, effortless as he glides across the perimeter of the stadium and Yixing feels like he is about to pass out because Wu Fan looks so much better in real life than he does on the posters in Yixing’s bedroom.
Wu Fan does a little spin in the air, lips quirking in a grin as he salutes the crowd with a wink - the response is thunderous. Yixing laughs and smiles back, bouncing eagerly in the stands. A quick glance across to Lu Han tells him that the latter is just as excited now, lips curved and eyes crinkled with his smile, following the players as they glide around the pitch.
The English team is introduced and they all hurtle forward in a blur of red and white, doing a few fantastic loops before swooping down low over the crowd. Yixing claps appreciatively, shouting his approval but his attention is quickly drawn back to Wu Fan who is now hovering around the goal posts, already preparing himself. He weaves between the three posts slowly, concentration completely on the game ahead.
The referee walks onto the pitch as all of the players settle into their positions. He places the crate that he had been holding on the ground, slipping onto his broomstick as the lid flies open and the balls zoom into the air.
The players are off immediately with an English Chaser getting hold of the Quaffle first, the team passing it quickly between each other, only to be intercepted by a Bludger as it plummets into the tail of one of their brooms. Yixing presses the Omnioculars so close to his eyes that it hurts, unblinking as he watches the Quaffle pass down through the Chinese team before it is caught by the English Keeper, and the game continues.
The first goal is scored within five minutes in a spectacular dive from above that almost has one of the Chinese Chaser striking the hoop, narrowly missing a collision as the Quaffle soars through seamlessly. The crowd roars and stamps their feet and Yixing waves his arms in their air, screaming as loud as he can.
He focuses on Wu Fan and he can see the quiver of a smile on his lips but his expression barely wavers, determination prevailing. The English only manage to score one goal to China’s three within an hour, Wu Fan working brilliantly to keep the Quaffles from falling through the hoops. He defends his position with ease, long arms stretching across to catch the Quaffle or bat it away, leaning right off his broom at one point in order to reach. Each time he saves a goal, the crowd on Yixing’s side shouts victoriously and Wu Fan just offers a small nod alongside the hint of a smile in response.
It goes on for a while, a goal scored here and there, blocked and deflected every other time. There is this one intense moment where the English Seeker is seen hurtling towards the grass, closely followed by the Chinese Seeker, swerving away drastically just before he hits the grass; effectively performing a Wronski Feint manoeuvre (which Yixing animatedly points out to Lu Han.) The Chinese Seeker, Zitao, famous for being the tallest seeker in history, is not so lucky as he crashes head first onto the field and slumps forward on the ground in a sprawled mess of arms and legs. The English Seeker twirls away happily and Lu Han gapes at him.
“Oh my god that’s got to hurt.”
Yixing nods, biting his lip in concern as the mediwizards rush onto the field and quickly patch the seeker up with a few healing spells and a potion. Zitao unsteadily gets to his feet and waves to the crowd with a wonky smile, the audience roaring in approval as he slips back onto his broom.
There are a few more bruises and crashes - one of the English Beaters even flying head first into a goal post and needing to be taken off the field. But it isn’t until about halfway through the second hour that a snitch sighting appears to happen again and the English Seeker zooms towards something on the other side of the pitch.
Yixing glances furiously from the Seeker to where his gaze lies and sees the flash of something gold and the tiny whir of wings.
“It’s the snitch! He’s seen it!”
Lu Han’s fingers clench around Yixing’s arm, and he tugs excitedly.
“Where is it?”
“Right down near England’s goals.”
Zitao is gaining speed quickly, body wrapped tightly around the broom, head down and eyes set on his target. But he’s still too far, the English Seeker having a good head start. Out of the corner of Yixing’s vision, something quick and dark cuts across the air and slams into the English Seeker, knocking him off his broom. Yixing audibly gasps, as does the rest of the crowd, and he sees a Chinese Beater waving her club triumphantly in the air. Zitao grins and plummets forward, hair whipping across his face as he reaches out, fingers stretching to their full capacity, before he rolls forward, falling through the air.
The audience is all on their feet now, Yixing on the tips of his toes in his attempt to see.
“Did he get it?” Lu Han asks, peering over the heads in front of them
A surging roar is their answer as Zitao shakily raises his gloved fist, fingers clenched tight around the Snitch as it weakly flutters its wings. Yixing shouts with them, leaping up and down as he waves his hands manically in the air, Lu Han beside him screeching loudly.
And so China is crowned as Quidditch World Champion for 2013.
*
After the crowd begins to wander out of the stadium and the victorious team has flown the perimeter of the pitch at least fifty times, Yixing drags Lu Han down to the front of the stadium.
“They might give autographs,” Yixing explains as Lu Han stumbles along behind him, tripping over towels thrown haphazardly on the ground and abandoned streamers. There are a few people already waiting, the sort of die-hard fans who have covered every inch of their skin in the relevant colours and probably know how many times their favourite star breathes per minute.
He can see the Quidditch players all huddled on the field, sharing enthusiastic remarks and clapping each other on the back happily. Wu Fan stands in the centre of the Chinese national team, a smile on his lips as he speaks animatedly to his teammates, gloved hand gripping his dark gold Firebolt 2.0. It’s a windy day and his cloak billows outwards with each new gust of air, his blond hair ruffled and wild, falling across his eyes. Their coach, a grin on his face so large that his eyes disappear, gestures over to where the fans wait and motions for them to walk over.
As the Chinese team ventures over to the railings, Yixing pushes closer, holding a small notepad out for them to sign. He is pressed against the barriers, uncomfortably so, with Lu Han beside him. But as Wu Fan walks moves closer, Yixing supposes he can deal with a slight discomfort. Wu Fan looks at him, cheeks flushed a little from exertion, breathing still laboured as he offers a small exhausted smile.
“Hi, who would you like me to make it out to?” he says, taking the notepad from Yixing’s hands, quill hovering over the first page. Yixing blinks, mouth suddenly dry. Wu Fan is just over a head taller than him, eyes bright and lips parted and Yixing feels butterflies flutter in his chest.
“Y-Yixing,” he stutters, attempting a recovery. His eyes trace the slight curve of Wu Fan’s lips, the point of his nose, and the hard line of his jaw. “I’m your biggest fan,” he gushes, unable to help himself. Wu Fan tilts his head, evidently amused.
“I get that a lot,” he replies. Lu Han snorts loudly and they both turn to look at him.
“Oh I can assure you that Yixing takes the cake on that one,” he says, raising an eyebrow. Wu Fan laughs, a soft sort of sound that bubbles from his throat unhindered.
“Is that so?”
Yixing feels a wave of heated embarrassment flood through him but Wu Fan’s smile is kind and not at all condescending.
“I well-yeah, I really like you,” Yixing mumbles, cursing the flush that crawls over his cheeks. Wu Fan hands the book back to Yixing and their fingers touch, just a light contact of skin against skin, but it sets Yixing’s nerves alight with electricity.
“Nice meeting you Yixing,” he says with a slight nod of the head, before he moves on to the next person beside them.
*
Yixing and Lu Han have booked a hotel for two weeks in England following the match (Lu Han refused to come unless there was a holiday attached.) So they sit in a coffee shop the next day and decide how to spend the rest of their time in England. Lu Han has already terrified the muggles sitting behind them when he carelessly caused a packet of sugar to fly across to their table and fall into his drink.
Yixing is circling red marks on the map unfolded before him when he looks up and accidentally inhales his coffee. He splutters for a few seconds before regaining his composure and wildly flapping his hands at Lu Han.
“Ohmyfuckinggoditswufan,” Yixing whispers and Lu Han offers him a pained expression.
“Are you making up your own language again?”
Yixing is far too engrossed in watching the way Wu Fan delicately sips at his coffee, long fingers curled almost protectively around the cup, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes read the newspaper before him with a fierce intensity. Lu Han sighs dramatically and follows Yixing’s gaze, eyes widening when he notices the Quidditch star.
“I really don’t get what you see in him,” he snorts. Yixing makes a loud sound of indignation which, unfortunately, is a little too loud and causes Wu Fan to look up. His eyes fall on Yixing and he blinks, once, twice, slowly; a sliver of recognition flashing across his face.
And then he grins, lips crookedly parting across perfect teeth as his hand lifts in a curt wave of acknowledgement.
A sharp pinch against his arm makes Yixing look across at Lu Han.
“Are you okay? I think your skin is about to burn right off your face it’s so red.”
Yixing doesn’t even care to be honest (but he does manage to give Lu Han a quick kick to the ankle.)
“What do I do Lu Han?”
Lu Han glares at him, rubbing the sore spot on his ankle with a hiss.
“Well you should go talk to him, he seems relatively nice.”
Yixing swallows, heartbeat threatening to burst from his chest.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Lu Han says, “and make sure you open with how many images of his face you have around your bedroom.”
Yixing kicks him again, stands up, and almost collapses when he sees Wu Fan is still watching him, the edges of his curved lips hidden a little as he takes another sip from his coffee. Yixing walks over, cursing his unsteady legs as he hovers self-consciously by Wu Fan’s table.
“Hello,” Yixing says and Wu Fan raises an eyebrow.
“You’re my biggest fan right?” he says, a hint of amusement laced in his tone.
Yixing cringes because it manages to sound so stupid coming from his mouth.
“I-well yes.”
Wu Fan laughs and Yixing feels his heart soar because that’s the second time he has heard Wu Fan laugh and he has never heard Wu Fan laugh before. The captain is always so serious and attentive in interviews, offering warm smiles to the fans but never emitting so much as a small chuckle. And yet within a few days, Yixing has made him laugh. Twice. It almost feels like they already share a special bond Yixing thinks distantly - he can practically hear Lu Han’s snort of disbelief at that thought.
“Wait, you’re not stalking me are you?” Wu Fan says, his eyebrows lowering. Yixing shakes his head fiercely, feeling a stab of embarrassment.
“No! We were just here for a coffee and then I saw you, I wasn’t following you I swear, I’m not like one of the crazy fans okay, im normal, I promise!” Yixing belatedly realises his little tirade of words probably made him seem far from normal but Wu Fan doesn’t seem to be too fussed by it, his smile returning to that previous quiver of amusement which plays on his lips, hands folding the Chinese translation of the Daily Prophet perfectly in front of him. Across the front emblazoned in a solid black is “Chinese Team Cheaters or Triumphant Champions”, the photo below it replaying Wu Fan performing a spectacular save.
Yixing frowns. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the title of the paper.
Wu Fan sighs and presses his lips together in a grim smile.
“They’re trying to make it out like we cheated or something.”
“That’s ridiculous! I don’t see why they can’t just accept the fact that you won.”
Wu Fan shrugs and sighs again, exhaling wistfully.
“It’s alright. There’s only so much they can dig up before they get bored.” He looks at Yixing for a moment, expression scrutinising, and Yixing shifts uncomfortably beneath his gaze.
“Yixing isn’t it?”
Yixing nods.
“Did you want to sit down?” he says, gesturing to the seat across from him, “can I pay for your coffee?”
Yixing blinks, eyes widening in surprise.
“I-uh-what?”
Wu Fan’s cheeks turn a patchy red and Yixing decides embarrassment looks brilliant on him.
“Sorry, I mean, it’s just my manager told me to get to know fans better and well, you’re one so …” He trails off, looking away.
Yixing feels a rising bubble of hysteric laughter in his throat and does his best to quell it.
“Well Lu Han already paid for our drinks but um, if I need another one, I guess I know where to come?”
Wu Fan throws him an apologetic look with a twinge of humiliation, nodding in understanding.
“Sorry,” he says again, and Yixing feels like his heart is so swollen it’s about to burst from emotion. Wu Fan taps his fingers on the table for a little bit before he coughs awkwardly into his hand and folds his newspaper into a neat square. The chair screeches as he stands up and he smiles at Yixing, only a small smile which reveals just the tip of his teeth and lines his skin with faint curves beside his eyes.
“I’ve got to get to Quidditch practice but, nice seeing you Yixing,” he says, tucking the newspaper beneath his arm and walking away. He offers one last wave before the door to the café closes behind him and he disappears into the hustle of the street crowd. Yixing stands there for a moment, slack-jawed in awe at the fact that Wu Fan, king of Keepers, Captain of the Chinese National Quidditch team and now world champion, just offered to pay for his drink.
Lu Han comes up behind him, coffee in one hand, as he shakes Yixing by the shoulders none too lightly.
“So, what happened?”
“I think…I think I love him,” Yixing says, and Lu Han almost spills the entirety of his coffee down Yixing’s shirt in response.
*
They’re in their hotel room when an owl hurtles through the open window. It’s not one of those regular scruffy Barn Owls but a sleek Eagle Owl with a blackened beak and ear tufts. It settles on the bedside table and offers out its leg, beady eyes scrutinising Yixing closely.
Yixing, who admittedly is slightly terrified of such a regal bird, carefully removes the scroll of paper attached to its leg. The letter is in a beautiful gold ink and Yixing’s heart race picks up when his eyes graze over the crest of the Chinese National Quidditch team stamped at the bottom.
“What is it?” Lu Han asks, adjusting his clothes in the mirror.
“It’s….from Wu Fan.”
Lu Han’s eyebrows rise.
“What?”
“He’s invited us to an exclusive party with all of the Quidditch players.”
Lu Han’s eyebrows shoot even higher, disappearing beneath the mess of light hair on his forehead. A grin begins to work itself across his lips.
“I think our favourite Keeper likes you,” Lu Han says amusedly, grin only widening as Yixing flushes bright red.
“Shut up,” he says weakly, thumb smoothing over a crease in the letter. Lu Han moves over, resting a chin on Yixing’s shoulder as his arms wind around Yixing’s waist. He is silent for a moment - Yixing supposes he must be reading the letter - when a puff of air in the form of laughter warms his cheek.
“It says “if you want you can bring your boyfriend from the coffee shop.” He thinks I’m your boyfriend?”
Yixing snorts and gestures vaguely to their position they’re in.
“Well do you blame him?”
Lu Han laughs and detaches himself, falling sideways onto his mattress.
“Well then, we have two days to make you irresistible to the most famous Quidditch player in the world. Do you think we can do it?”
Yixing chooses to answer him by sitting on his stomach.
*
“Is my tie on straight? Do I have anything in my teeth? How does my hair look?”
“For the last time Yixing, you look fine,” Lu Han sighs in exasperation, pushing him along not-so-gently from behind. “Now let’s go find that lover boy of yours.”
Yixing frowns at him, fixing the collar of his shirt.
“Can you please stop calling him that?”
“Fine. How about golden snitch?”
Yixing raises an eyebrow in confusion.
“What?”
“Because you’ve been searching for someone like him your whole life.”
Lu Han waggles his eyebrows and Yixing elbows him in the ribs, just as Wu Fan walks up from behind them.
“Yixing, you made it,” he says and Yixing leaps at least a few inches off the ground. (Who needs a broom to fly really, Yixing seems to be able do that all by himself.)
“Uh, hi Wu Fan, this is Lu Han.”
Lu Han nods politely and the smile on his face is far too devious for Yixing’s liking.
“Hi, I’m Lu Han, we met once before after the World Cup game, and I think you should know that I’m definitely not Yixing’s boyfriend.”
Wu Fan goes a bit red and coughs; flustered.
“Okay, that’s er- good I suppose?”
Lu Han’s grin just widens.
“Oh it certainly is good,” he says, tacking on a whispered, “for you.”
He urges Yixing forward with a swift kick to the shin and twirls on his heel.
“I’m going to go get a drink and meet some famous people. See you in a few hours Yixing,” he sings, disappearing almost immediately into the crowd.
Wu Fan blinks at Yixing and his cheeks flush again - Yixing vaguely wonders if he has had too much to drink already.
“I’m glad you could come,” Wu Fan says slowly, and his eyes seem to wander across Yixing’s face, down over his neck and slightly exposed collarbone, across the expanse of his suit. It’s a little intense and Yixing shifts awkwardly.
“Me too. I’ve always wanted to be able to come to one of these.”
Wu Fan nods, smile quirking on his lips.
“Of course you have.” He coughs again. “So Yixing, what do you do? Apart from stalking Quidditch players of course.”
Yixing laughs a bit at that, hiding a smile behind his curled fingers.
“I’m a healer actually. I work in a small hospital in Changsha.”
Wu Fan’s eyes widen, comical surprise gracing his expression.
“Oh? You don’t seem the type to be a healer.”
It’s not meant as in insult but Yixing feels himself bristle regardless.
“Why because I’m a hardcore Quidditch fan?” he asks, and Wu Fan shakes his head hurriedly, noticing he has slightly offended Yixing.
“No it’s just - we’ll you’re really young.”
Yixing raises an eyebrow and Wu Fan smiles softly.
“I guess most of the healers I’ve been around are old wizards who know Quidditch injuries inside out,” he explains and Yixing hums in understanding.
They slip into easy conversation after that and talk for the good part of an hour before Lu Han returns, an empty glass in one hand a slight swagger in his step.
“Yixing, come meet my new friend,” he says, looping his arm through Yixing’s at the elbow, tugging him away. Yixing sends Wu Fan an apologetic glance, the latter laughing and excusing him with a wave. Lu Han’s “friend” turns out to be the Chinese team’s coach, a Korean man named Minseok who is well known as the best Quidditch coach in Asia. Minseok seems almost as drunk as Lu Han, cheeks red, hair mussed, and eyes glazed a little.
It still sends a prickle of nervousness through Yixing to be so close to another one of his idols but that nervousness vanishes in a mere instant when Lu Han drapes an arm across Minseok’s shoulders and the latter laughs before pressing a sloppy kiss against his cheek.
“So by friend you mean…” Yixing begins, amusement gurgling into laughter. Lu Han blinks widely at him before he grins, rather creepily, Yixing thinks.
“I love him,” Lu Han says, before he nuzzles their noses together and giggles. Trust Lu Han to never do things in halves really. Yixing pries him away from Minseok as best as he can, earning a glare from the two of them.
“You don’t love him, don’t be ridiculous Lu Han.”
Lu Han pouts and it would probably be adorable if he wasn’t all hot and sweaty from dancing and there wasn’t the overpowering stench of Firewhisky on his breath.
“I do! Just like how you love Wu Fan!”
Minseok makes a low sound of intrigue in his throat and leans closer.
“You love Wu Fan?”
“I don’t love him I just- I appreciate his Quidditch skills.”
Lu Han snorts, far too loudly for Yixing’s liking.
“You appreciate his hotness Yixing, please.”
Yixing rolls his eyes and immediately makes himself busy talking to a Quidditch player nearby, viciously plotting Lu Han’s untimely death in his head.
*As the night draws to a close, when Lu Han has already gone back to their hotel and Yixing has spoken to most of the Quidditch players in the room at least once (and collected ten autographs in the process), he decides to leave. He is nearing the edge of his sanity, feeling exhaustion dull his senses and he yawns, draping his coat around his shoulders and crossing his arms across his chest.
Yixing is about to step outside to apparate back to their hotel room when fingers catch his wrist and hold him back. He turns to see Wu Fan looking at him, gaze intense and cheeks slightly flushed.
“Yixing before you go I was just wondering, did you want to come watch us practice tomorrow?”
Yixing inhales sharply, the cold night air piercing his lungs with an icy shock.
“As in, watch your team play Quidditch?”
Wu Fan chuckles softly.
“That is generally what we do when we practice…” He trails off, looking a little hopeful and a little like a lost puppy dog and Yixing feels like screaming.
“Why?” he says, instead of shouting the various forms of agreement currently flying through his head. He regrets it until Wu Fan swallows and looks away, the flush on his cheeks darkening in the dull light which escapes from the party behind him.
“I just thought you would enjoy it since you’re such a big fan,” he says slowly and Yixing’s lips quirk into a smile.
“You aren’t going to let me live that label down are you?”
Wu Fan laughs and brushes the hair away from his face, a twinkle in his eyes. His mouth is set in a wavering line, fighting against a smile.
“Probably not.”
Yixing nods and exhales, breath creating a cloud of mist in the air before him.
“Of course I want to come. You can send me an owl about it tomorrow morning or something.”
A satisfied smile finally breaks across Wu Fan’s lips and he relaxes, fingers playing with the folds of his shirt sleeves, rolled up just above his elbow.
“Alright,” he says and he is about to go back inside when Yixing stops him.
“Wait, how did you even know where I was staying in England to begin with?”
A twinge of embarrassment flashes across his face.
“I have...contacts,” he says hesitantly and Yixing has this fleeting idea that Wu Fan is basically just as much of a stalker as he is, which sends a trickle of laughter passing over his lips, stopped by a quick hand pressed to his mouth. Wu Fan smiles in response and offers a curt wave.
“See you tomorrow then Yixing.”
Yixing bites his bottom lip to stop his grin from splitting his face in half.
*
Wu Fan takes Yixing to Quidditch practice the following afternoon.
Yixing sits on the edge of the grass pitch, knees bent up and arms draped loosely around them. It’s almost surreal to watch the team he has followed for almost all of his life so close and personal. Without even the use of Omnioculars, he can see the look of frustration that passes the Chaser’s face when she fumbles the Quaffle, the way the Seeker’s eyebrows furrow as he searches for the snitch - the way Wu Fan’s gaze is so often distracted by Yixing.
It sends his heartbeat skittering around in his chest to see Wu Fan’s eyes so often drawn to his own, the flicker of a smile on his lips, and the knowledge that his presence is making some sort of difference.
The players all file off the pitch when the sun begins to set and Wu Fan immediately walks over to Yixing, specks of golden light dancing across his hair as the world is set against a warm hue of orange and pink.
“I’m sorry if that was boring,” is the first thing he says and Yixing snorts softly, getting to his feet.
“You think I would find watching my favourite Quidditch team in the world practice boring?”
Wu Fan smiles and some emotion swirls inside his eyes which Yixing can’t quite pinpoint.
“I guess not,” he says, gloved fingers holding his broom loosely against his side. He stands there for a moment and Yixing thinks he looks complete like this, in his Quidditch gear and with a broom by his side, hair all windswept and eyes shining. Wu Fan tilts his head, eyes grazing Yixing’s face.
“Do you fly?”
“Only sometimes. I never was that good really.”
Wu Fan hums and he looks hesitant for a moment, before he holds out his broomstick
“Would you like to?”
Yixing knows that he is gaping but he doesn’t really care.
“What?”
“It’s not the broomstick I use for the actual games,” he explains, although Yixing already knows this. Wu Fan’s real broomstick is a custom made Firebolt 2.0 painted with a gold sheen and with his name engraved into the handle. The one he holds out now is just a Nimbus 2000, a fairly old model considering the influx of broomsticks in the recent years but a model good enough to practice on.
Yixing reaches out to grasp the handle.
“Oh god I haven’t flown in so long,” he whispers and Wu Fan smiles gently. He swings one leg over the handle, in front of where Yixing’s hand lies, and gestures behind him.
“Then let me help.”
Yixing’s eyes grow very wide and he swallows the rising screech of exhilaration. Shakily, he slips over the broom behind Wu Fan, knees bent and unsure where to place his hands. Wu Fan laughs and, with a small kick to the ground, he bends over the broomstick and they take off. The sudden jolt of motion sends Yixing scrambling for a hold and his arms automatically wind around Wu Fan’s chest, moving as close as he can.
“It’s not really made for two,” Wu Fan says, and his breath is warm against Yixing’s clasped hands. Yixing’s nose presses into his shoulder, chin buried the back of Wu Fan’s jacket. And Wu Fan is right, the broom tilts slightly, unstable in its flight but Wu Fan seems to be able to control it well enough, urging it upwards with a twist of his body.
And then they are gliding across the pitch, twirling higher and higher, dancing in the light of the sun and Yixing wonders how much further the clouds sit above them. As Wu Fan makes a sharp turn, Yixing clings to him tighter, legs curled up as close to the broom handle as they can go.
Wu Fan laughs and his hair tickles Yixing’s cheek. His heart races beneath Yixing’s fingertips and Yixing feels a surge of exhilaration and disbelief, setting his own heartbeat soaring with the flight of the broom. It’s beautiful, the way Wu Fan smiles, his eyes alight with true happiness and he seems completed, like he was made to fly.
They climb higher and higher and then Wu Fan grins before they take off at a ridiculous speed angled towards the ground. Yixing is unable to stop a scream of terror from being ripped from his throat but as Wu Fan pulls up at the last minute, and Yixing’s body falls even further into the back of Wu Fan’s, Yixing lets out a laugh of elation.
They slow to a stop, a smooth deceleration that lands them perfectly in the grass. They both get off, Yixing trembling slightly, but his veins powered with adrenalin. Wu Fan holds the broom beside him, eyes dancing.
“So, what do you think?”
His hair is even more messed up from the wind now, cheeks flushed a little, lips pulled into a dorky smile and Yixing feels an intense urge to lean forward and kiss him.
Yixing swallows the knot in his throat.
“It was amazing,” he says softly and the brilliant smile that lights up Wu Fan’s face is far brighter than the sun setting on the horizon.
*
Yixing is sitting in the hotel room when there is a knock on the door. Lu Han, who is currently busy writing out a lovely long, and most probably cringe inducing letter to Minseok, waves at Yixing to open it. Yixing sighs and makes his way over, still in his loose pyjama bottoms and missing a shirt. When he opens the door, he suddenly feels like dying because of fucking course it would be Wu Fan standing there.
“H-h-hi,” he stammers, blushing profusely because oh my god he is currently half naked. Wu Fan is really not making it any easier, an eyebrow rising so high it disappears into his hair as his eyes drift almost lazily across Yixing’s bare chest. Yixing shivers self-consciously and Wu Fan seems to catch himself, averting his gaze immediately.
He scratches his head awkwardly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. I was going to send an owl over but I thought I should come in person.”
Lu Han appears behind Yixing, propping his chin on Yixing’s shoulder to see who it is.
“Oh, hi Wu Fan,” he snorts, and then slithers off again, returning to his sickeningly sweet love letter. Wu Fan frowns after him but his attention quickly returns to Yixing. His hands twist and turn before him and he seems like his is trying to muster up the courage to say something, mouth opening before the potential words breeze out in a sigh of defeat. Yixing, who is feeling more self-conscious by the second and would very much like to go back inside, throw a shirt on, and possibly jump out the window from embarrassment, shifts uncomfortably.
“What’s wrong?”
Wu Fan sighs again.
“Yixing I just - I wanted to ask - can I buy you a drink sometime? You know, since I didn’t get to that other day at the cafe.”
He swallows, but doesn’t look away. Yixing feels himself falling into Wu Fan’s eyes - falling deeper into whatever this might be. Because there is no way Wu Fan has come all this way and gone to so much effort just to repay something he had offered offhandedly a few days ago.
“Are you asking me out?” he says slowly, gauging Wu Fan’s reaction. Wu Fan’s forehead wrinkles in a frown, and something akin to nervousness flickers across his eyes. It’s so very vulnerable and so very human, that for a moment, Yixing forgets that Wu Fan happens to be an international Quidditch star. Here, he is just Wu Fan - the slightly awkward guy Yixing met in that coffee shop. Wu Fan presses his lips together in a thin line and exhales through his nose.
“I just - I guess I never thought my biggest fan would be so attractive,” he mumbles and Yixing can’t help it - he snorts. Wu Fan flushes even darker and finally looks away, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks.
Yixing feels a violent urge to throw up.
“You think I’m attractive?” he asks weakly, bracing himself on the side of the door, because damn, he can’t even feel his legs anymore. He is pretty sure he is gaping like a goldfish right about now.
Wu Fan looks like he wants to sink into the ground which is so utterly adorable that Yixing actually tears up a little.
“Well, yes.”
There aren’t really words to describe how very fucking much Yixing wants to accept so he settles with a garbled-
“ohmygodareyouseriousofcourseIwill.”
Wu Fan tilts his head in confusion, but Yixing doesn’t trust himself to explain any further so he nods aggressively, smile so wide that it hurts his mouth.
A relieved smile breaks across Wu Fan’s lips and he laughs lightly.
“How does tonight sound?”
Yixing has to remember how to breathe.
“Tonight sounds perfect.”
*
They end up in a small restaurant in a backstreet of London. The enchantment causes it to appear as a dilapidated building but as they enter, Yixing can’t help but gasp at the sheer decadence of the place.
Wu Fan notices and his lips pull into a content smile.
“It’s nice isn’t it? I always come here when I visit London.”
The waiter shows them to a table at the corner of the room, away from prying eyes. Already Wu Fan has caused a few head turns and whispers follow them to their seats. Yixing isn’t entirely sure if he likes the attention and he can see that Wu Fan certainly doesn’t, the latter kindly asking for a charm to be cast around their area for privacy.
“I’m sorry that we have to be so discreet,” he says softly, fingers playing with the fork placed at the edge of the plate. Yixing hums, distracted by the way Wu Fan’s mouth is so small, how it curves into a gentle smile when his eyes move up and rest on Yixing. “I mean the rest of the wizarding world don’t even know that I like guys you know? And I don’t think my manager would enjoy that publicity.”
Yixing nods, understanding.
“Wu Fan, you can trust me when I say that I really don’t give a shit at all because the fact that I am currently on a date with you kind of overrides everything else.”
It’s a bit of a thoughtless blurt of words but Yixing doesn’t mind when Wu Fan blinks and colour rushes across his cheeks.
“I’m glad,” he says, and the following curve of lips makes Yixing’s heart somersault in his chest.
“So,” Yixing says, feeling a sudden influx of brazenness, “do you take your fans out on dates often then?” He feels more relaxed around Wu Fan tonight, it’s as though everything else is discarded - all of the money, the fame, the titles. It was Wu Fan who asked Yixing out, albeit fairly awkwardly, and it is Wu Fan who is sitting before him, all nervous and flustered and so very perfect.
Wu Fan laughs and hides his face behind his hand for a moment, an embarrassed pull of lips peeking out from the side of his palm.
“Never actually, so excuse me if I’m not very good at it.”
Something almost arrogant sparks in Yixing’s chest at that, a feeling of exclusivity that certainly alleviates any worries about previous competition. He raises an eyebrow in disbelief though, thumb stroking the edge of his glass.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But surely fans have asked you out before?”
Wu Fan sighs.
“Of course, I’ve just never said yes.”
Yixing looks at him from beneath lowered eyelashes.
“So then, what makes me so different.”
There is a pause and then -
“Because you didn’t ask.” Yixing is about to push the response when Wu Fan begins again.
“I mean, you seem to be able to look past that. Well sometimes anyway. It’s like you see me for me, and not just like some all powerful God or something, you treat me like I’m human. It’s nice,” he finishes lamely with a stupid smile on his face that really makes Yixing want to cover it with his own mouth.
“Oh,” is all he can say, and the word is breathless, a sense of underlying awe laced within it.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to come up with an additional response, because the waiters arrive with the entrée.
Yixing finds that they get along well, away from a social setting even when it’s just the two of them. Wu Fan is far less confident when he is one his own and not supported by anyone else, but Yixing can see that there is a desire to impress which sparks in Wu Fan’s eyes occasionally alongside a swirl of affection. He tells Yixing of how he used to love Quidditch but his father would tell him to give it up and try for a real job. He tells Yixing that it was then, he decided that he would prove himself not only to his family, but to the world. He tells Yixing many stories about his past, of mistakes and failures, of small achievements which boosted morale, of all of the difficulties he faced.
Yixing sits there almost mesmerised, completely immersed in everything Wu Fan says until they realise they are the only two left in the restaurant and the staff are waiting for them to leave.
They walk back along the darkened street outside, a slight sheen to the cobbled pavement from rain which must have fallen which they were having dinner. Yixing shivers in the cold and Wu Fan looks at him, hesitant for a moment, before a large arm pulls him close to Wu Fan’s warmth.
“Can’t have you getting sick on your holiday,” he says, and Yixing bites back a smile.
They reach the end of the street where there is an absence of street lights. It’s dark enough to apparate here without being seen by muggles, and Wu Fan must be thinking the same thing because he turns to Yixing, a smile on his face and the moon glinting in his eyes.
“I’m glad I met you Yixing,” he says and Yixing lets himself smile properly this time, a soft laugh issuing through his lips. Wu Fan reaches his free hand over, poking the side of his mouth, where Yixing knows his dimple sits.
“It’s cute,” Wu Fan mumbles and Yixing feels himself sigh, emotion freewheeling inside his chest. Wu Fan’s smile softens and his gaze intensifies slightly as the fingers against Yixing’s face traces the line of his jaw, thumb pressing into his chin. With a nervous swallow, Wu Fan leans forward and presses a light kiss beside Yixing’s mouth, hovering for a moment, before pulling back completely. Yixing feels his heartbeat flutter and there is nothing he wants to do more than pull Wu Fan towards him and kiss him until neither of them can breathe and yet he doesn’t, he just inhales slowly and smiles, heat fanning out across his cheeks.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Wu Fan asks, vulnerable and tentative.
“Definitely,” Yixing whispers and with a crack, Wu Fan is gone.
*
It’s the day after the date and Wu Fan had turned up at their door early the next morning, an eager expression his face. Lu Han had helped Yixing dress in a low slung singlet top that according to his friend “revealed his magnificent collarbones” or something equally disturbing, but clearly Lu Han must have some sort of eye for fashion as Wu Fan’s eyes have been drifting across the expanse of bare skin near Yixing’s neck for the last ten minutes.
Yixing hums quietly to himself, swinging his arms as he walks. Wu Fan’s hand is by his side, seemingly hesitant between moving to curl against the small of Yixing’s back or remain as is.
“Actually, you know it would be best if we went back to my place,” Wu Fan says suddenly.
Yixing feels himself flush and notes that Wu Fan’s skin also turns a pink hue.
“That’s not - that’s not what I meant. I just mean because it’s out of the way. And they’ve given us each a really great place to stay in while we’re here for the month.”
A month, Yixing thinks drearily, when he and Lu Han are only in England for less than a week.
“Here,” Wu Fan says, holding out his arm, which Yixing takes gratefully, “I’ll take you.”
There is pop and whoosh around Yixing’s ears as his head spins. The world warps into darkness and then illuminates in a burst of vibrant colour - the sun replaced with a hanging chandelier and the street vanishing beneath a deep red wallpaper.
“Wow,” Yixing breathes, taking a good look around. They’re in some sort of lounge room, an archway leading directly into a stainless steel kitchen where a glass table stands. There are photos of famous Quidditch players lining the walls and a framed photo of the Chinese National team above the lounge. A dark golden Firebolt 2.0 sits perfectly in a stand beside the fireplace.
“They seriously went all out for you didn’t they?” Yixing says, voice still hushed in a kind of quiet awe. He walks over to the Firebolt 2.0 and gently touches it, as Wu Fan makes a strangled sound in his throat. Yixing looks back to see Wu Fan watching him with a conflicted expression, evidently not comfortable with the thought of someone else touching his precious broom.
His nose is wrinkled and his eyes are caught halfway in a frown, lips bared over his teeth. It’s protective and it’s cute and Yixing almost wants to pull the broom stick off the stand just to see Wu Fan’s reaction.
“I’m sorry,” Wu Fan says, “I just don’t really like people going near it.” His hands are curled into fists and Yixing walks over, and slowly, almost instinctively, but with a sense of great caution, he reaches down and unfurls Wu Fan’s fingers before linking their hands together.
“Well it’s beautiful,” he says quietly and Wu Fan swallows, tongue darting out to quickly wet his dry lips.
“Thanks,” he replies, an edge of shyness to his tone.
“Are you going to show me the rest of the house now?” Yixing asks. The fingers around his tighten slightly, a small squeeze of hope, of something new and everything in between.
“Alright.”
The house is beautiful, and Yixing becomes more and more amazed as Wu Fan gives him a small tour around its confines. It’s far from anything Yixing could even afford, and this only a temporary house, just to accommodate Wu Fan in his stay in England. They spend a few hours wandering around before curling up on the couch, with Wu Fan at one end and Yixing at the other, engrossed in a conversation about the development of new healing charms. An alarm rings and Wu Fan jolts to attention, muttering a quick cessation spell to stop the sound.
“I’m sorry Yixing, I completely forgot, but I actually have to be at press conference now with the rest of the team.”
He looks a little guilty, and Yixing reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against Wu Fan’s knee.
“That’s alright. I don’t mind.”
“You can come if you want,” Wu Fan says, and there’s this hopeful glint in his eye that suggests that he certainly wouldn’t mind, so Yixing feels himself automatically reply with a smile and a nod of his head.
Wu Fan quickly changes into something a little nicer before draping his golden Quidditch cloak over his shoulders. He looks amazing dressed up like this, with a white shirt and a pair of perfectly creased black pants, a ring on his finger and a dragon necklace dropping down on his neck, just peeking out from beneath his unbuttoned collar. Yixing’s fingers curl around Wu Fan’s offered arm, eyes watching him closely.
“You look good,” Yixing manages to choke out, and the last thing he sees is Wu Fan’s brilliant smile turned in his direction, before the interior of the house disappears with a crack, and they end up in a small auditorium.
The interview starts almost right away. The Quidditch team all stand in a perfect row on the stage in a staggered height order so as not to create any glaring differences. Wu Fan is at one end, wand held at his throat to magnify his voice as he answers questions. The flash from the cameras is more than disconcerting and it makes Yixing feels slightly faint so he decides to retreat behind the curtain across the back of the stage. He exhales and closes his eyes, smiling as he hears Wu Fan answer a question about what they hope to achieve next year.
“Well I’d certainly like to keep a hold of this trophy,” he says lightly, issuing a murmured chuckle throughout the room.
“And what about your personal life,” a high-pitched voice pipes up, “all of our readers at Witch Weekly would love to know if the Captain of the most famous Quidditch team in the world is currently available?”
Wu Fan coughs, and Yixing peeks around the curtain to see an embarrassed quirk of lips on the Keeper’s face.
“I’m seeing someone actually,” he says and the small Witch eagerly taking down notes on her parchment grins toothily as she raises an eyebrow. A few of his teammates exchange surprised glances too, but nothing more is said about it.
After a few more questions, the team files off from the stage and quickly walk away. Wu Fan is the last to leave, smiling for a few more photos and signing a couple of parchments before he slips behind the curtain. He sees Yixing immediately and grins.
“So, you’re seeing someone are you? I’m a little jealous,” Yixing says in a playful tone.
Wu Fan snorts and his lips curve into a teasing smile.
“Yeah, you should be. He’s really hot.”
He says it so easily, but seems to cringe almost immediately after, a wave of humiliation overcoming him. Yixing covers up a laugh with his hand because he loves the way Wu Fan does this - how occasionally his words slip through without a thought and are almost immediately followed by a characteristic flailing and awkwardness.
Yixing just smiles softly and presses a little closer, feeling the warmth of Wu Fan before him.
“I’m glad you think so,” he says, fingers trailing up Wu Fan’s chest, before falling to his side as he steps back. Wu Fan bites back a laugh and loops an arm around Yixing’s shoulders, pulling Yixing along beside him as they walk away.
*
“You know this was supposed to be a holiday,” Lu Han says as he glares at Yixing from his breakfast the next morning, viciously stabbing at a pancake, “and by holiday I didn’t mean a time for you to actually live your dream of getting your hands beneath Wu Fan’s Quidditch gear.”
Yixing shoots him a narrowed look.
“Oh so then did I hear wrong that you and Minseok spent most of yesterday shopping together?”
Lu Han sneers at him before rolling his eyes.
“Possibly.” He falls quiet suddenly, hand stilling in its motion, a sliver of pancake falling to his plate.
“But I do want to spend more time with you,” Lu Han says and Yixing smiles, reaching over to stuff some of his own pancake in Lu Han’s mouth.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. Let’s do something today.”
“A double date?” Lu Han says, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, much to Yixing’s amusement.
“Sure,” Yixing says with a wave of his hand. Lu Han grins at him and immediately begins plotting out a thousand different plans at a ridiculous speed. Yixing blinks; bewildered.
“I take it back,” Yixing says, and Lu Han throws a map of London at Yixing’s head.
*
They meet Wu Fan and Minseok at the markets, because Lu Han had wanted to be a proper tourist and Yixing hadn’t been shopping yet. Wu Fan smiles and almost immediately gravitates to Yixing’s side, and Yixing leans against him, feeling contentment embrace his heart. He is wearing dark sunglasses and some kind of atrocious purple hat which Yixing excuses considering at least this way he is less likely to be recognised.
“This place is usually full of Muggles anyway,” Wu Fan says, noticing Yixing’s look, “so it’s probably not necessary but I thought - well, I didn’t want us to be interrupted”
Yixing flicks the brim of the hat with a grin before linking their pinkies together, bumping their shoulders against each other.
“If anyone stops us, I give you full permission to whisk us away on your broomstick.”
Wu Fan grins and just pulls him closer, fingers creeping around Yixing’s waist. He’s testing their boundaries and Yixing is not bothered in the slightest, making sure Wu Fan knows he is alright with it by relaxing against him.
“So,” Lu Han says, glancing between Wu Fan and Minseok, “Are you two going to be our tour guides then?”
Minseok shrugs, “I’ve only been here a few times. Wu Fan knows the place better than me.”
Wu Fan tilts his head.
“I can get us around. I know enough English to get by too.”
“You can speak English?” Lu Han asks, and it’s Yixing who answers.
“Yeah, he learnt English growing up in Canada.”
All eyes turn to Yixing - Lu Han’s look of judgement, Minseok’s surprise, and Wu Fan’s eyes sparkling with amusement. Yixing cringes and ducks his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says, embarrassment flooding his features. Wu Fan nudges his chin up with a touch of his thumb.
“You’re a little terrifying you know that?” Wu Fan says with a grin of amusement, which only causes Yixing to curl inwards in further embarrassment. Lu Han laughs loudly.
“Good, I’m glad you agree with me,” he says, and Yixing elbows him in the ribs. Lu Han leans closer to Wu Fan, a hand propped up beside his mouth in an exaggerated attempt at secrecy. “Wait until you see his room,” he stage whispers and Wu Fan looks at him.
“Oh?”
Lu Han doesn’t respond, he just nods, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in implication. Wu Fan laughs and pulls Yixing along as Lu Han and Minseok follow close behind them.
“I say we start over here,” he shouts above the noise of the crowd, and his fingers press into Yixing’s hip, slipping a little beneath the fabric so that there is a touch of warmth against his skin. Yixing smiles and Wu Fan grins in response.
They spend most of the day in the markets, a productive shopping trip which sees Yixing with at four bags of souvenirs and small trinkets and Lu Han with at least twice as many. Although Wu Fan leads the way, Minseok and Lu Han seem to dawdle behind, getting distracted by every shop keeper and anything that sparkles. It allows for Wu Fan to pull closer to Yixing, to whisper something with a cold nose pressed into Yixing’s neck, to link their hands together, to make quiet comments and even softer words of adoration. Yixing feels like they are on a real date, not with the fancy atmosphere of a restaurant but something far more substantial. And, he realises that he loves it.
They catch the underground back and end up walking down to the London Eye which Minseok insists that they go to, managing to get in a carriage just as the sun begins to set, much to Yixing’s joy. He stands with Wu Fan at one edge, tourists all around the glass with their cameras ready and their exclamations of awe. Clouds roll over the city, carrying an imminent darkness with them and stars already glitter across the reds and pinks streaked through the sky.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Wu Fan says and his voice is low, just beside Yixing’s ear. Yixing hums in agreement and his gaze drifts from the window to Wu Fan’s face, to the golden lights that play in his eyes and the way his skin is softened in the light of the setting sun but dark shadows are thrown from his jaw. With a deliberate movement, Yixing lifts a hand and gently touches Wu Fan’s cheek, pressing the pads of his fingers against it just hard enough to create a dip in his skin. Wu Fan watches him, confusion laced with amusement.
“What’s wrong?” Wu Fan asks, and his breath his warm as it breezes across Yixing’s fingertips.
Yixing blinks.
“Nothing. And that’s what’s so amazing.”
Wu Fan’s lips tweak upwards into a slow smile, something magical that curves across his mouth and creases his eyes into crescent moons. He licks his lips, mouth parting a little.
“Yixing,” he says quietly, so as no one else can over hear them, “I want to kiss you.”
Yixing inhales, the laugh which threatens to spill from his mouth is stuck in his throat.
“You don’t have to ask,” he says weakly and the last thing he sees is Wu Fan’s smile widening before lips are pressed against his, warm and inviting, something slow in an attempt to indulge in the moment. Yixing’s hands fall feebly to his side as Wu Fan’s arms snake around his back, pulling him closer. Perfection doesn’t even really describe it, because Yixing is suffocating from his emotion, affection choking him, adoration squeezing his heart; he wants to melt into the kiss and never let go.
He does step away though, because the railing is digging painfully into his back and it’s also getting rather difficult to breathe.
Wu Fan wrinkles his nose and it’s nothing short of adorable.
“I’m glad you are my biggest fan Yixing,” he says with the faint hint of a smirk. Yixing narrows his eyes and pokes him in the stomach, earning a satisfying “oof” from Wu Fan who jerks away. He gives Yixing a wounded look and sighs, fingers finding Yixing’s own.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Somewhere along the way I became your biggest fan too so I guess we’re even,” Wu Fan says, and Yixing really wants to voice his disgust at how cheesy that is but instead, he places a light kiss against Wu Fan’s lips, before pulling him close with a sigh, a smile flickering on his face as they watch the sun disappear beyond the city together.
*
Yixing sits in his room working on a new paper about developments in the treatment of Spattergroit. It’s dark outside, with just a small candle flickering beside him, enough to illuminate the parchment and each delicate curl of ink from his quill. They’ve been back in China for a few weeks now, and even though Yixing hasn’t seen Wu Fan in person, he sees him every day in interviews and appearances - the Quidditch star has taken over almost every single wizarding newspaper in China.
Yixing sighs and waits for the ink to dry before he rolls up the parchment. He’s cleaning the quill when there is a loud crack and he falls out of his chair.
“What the fuck…” he says, leaping to his feet. Wu Fan stands in his room, blinking widely at the posters on his wall.
“So Lu Han really wasn’t lying when he mentioned your room.”
Yixing flushes, inwardly cursing himself for forgetting to take down the numerous Quidditch posters aligning his walls. There is a particularly large one of Wu Fan sitting just beside his bed and Wu Fan raises an eyebrow, seemingly about to comment, before Yixing cuts over him.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to apparate into someone’s room uninvited?”
Wu Fan looks a little sheepish.
“Well, Lu Han invited me…”
His gaze falls on Yixing, the pull of his lips playful. They look at each other for a good moment, Yixing letting himself soak in every aspect of the man standing before him, as an overwhelming ache of desire and want pangs in his chest. Wu Fan inhales, eyes dark as he walks over slowly.
“I’m back from England now,” he says softly.
Yixing smiles, a soft laugh issuing through his mouth.
“Thank god. Even three weeks was too long.”
Wu Fan’s fingers dance up his arms, finding the curve of Yixing’s shoulder and squeezing gently. His breath is warm as it ghosts across Yixing’s lips.
“Yixing, I really like you,” he says, a crooked smile on his face, thumb brushing against the curve of Yixing’s jaw.
Yixing, despite himself, feels his heart melt almost immediately.
“I like you too,” he replies. Wu Fan snorts, gaze pointedly falling on the posters.
“I can tell,” he says and Yixing nudges him with a glare.
“No, I like you. I like your stupid self - the Wu Fan who is all shy and awkward and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. I like silly, lanky, loser Wu Fan, not Captain of the Quidditch Team Wu Fan.
Wu Fan smiles and leans closer.
“So you don’t like Captain of the Quidditch Team Wu Fan?”
Yixing grins and presses their lips together.
“Well, I guess he’s pretty awesome too,” Yixing mumbles against his mouth before snaking an arm around Wu Fan’s neck to pull him closer, standing on his toes to alleviate their height difference as Wu Fan bends his knees slightly to accommodate. Wu Fan sighs into the kiss, fingers pressing into Yixing’s hips, slipping just beneath his shirt and Yixing thinks love is almost too shallow a word to describe what he feels right now.
Wu Fan pulls back a little, enough for Yixing to see the indignant furrow of his eyebrows.
“And I’m not a loser. I’ll have you know that I-”
Yixing decides to shut him up with a kiss.
--
AN: the prompt was quidditch player kris and fanboy yixing but this is all kinds of ridiculous AND IM SORRY? I found this easy to write in the beginning but then had so many issues with the development, and I was all over the place with it but it was a whole lot of fun :3 I HOPE YOU LIKE IT MELISSA ♥ I almost like quidditch captain kris more than basketball captain kris now haha~