Jiāng Chéng (zidian) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-04-11 14:55:00 |
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As George led Jiang Cheng up to the front yard from the Waypoint they had just exited, past the sign in the ground that read “The Burrow,” he pointed out the garage that held Arthur’s flying Ford Anglia that was off to one side and the chicken coop that was on the opposite side. Chickens clucked at them as George led the other man through the front entry of the kitchen instead of the front door. The kitchen was, without a doubt, the hub of the Weasley home.
“Well,” George said, closing the door behind the other man and then sweeping his hand out toward the kitchen. “Welcome to the Burrow.” It was nowhere near as serene looking as Lotus Pier, but just like that was home to Yunmeng Jiang Clan, the Burrow was home to the Weasleys and several people that they had adopted along the way. A clock that hung in the kitchen struck 7 PM at that moment, drawing attention to it. All the hands on the clock were named for the Weasleys and they were all stuck on “At Home,” save for Fred’s and Charlie’s, which shifted between “working” and “drinking.”
It was still light out though and the dying rays of the sun were shining into the kitchen from the back door that led to the garden. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour and then we can go relax in the garden for a bit,” George said, nodding toward the stairs that led up to the various bedrooms and guest rooms.
Jiang Cheng had been surprised by the invitation to see this place. Even though he’d invited George to his own home and George was by far the more generous and neighborly of them both. It was still strange to be invited to someone’s home when they were as different as night and day. Looking at the outside of such a surreal building and listening to George talk, he kept waiting for the punchline. Surely this was all just an illusion to drive away busybodies or magical something or another.
But no, the inside was definitely just as strange and yet somehow more welcoming than Jiang Cheng expected. He’d left his sword at home for the first time, trying to meet cultural differences somewhere in the middle, and he regretted not having something to do with at least one of his hands.
“This is...a lot to take in,” he said quietly, stepping further into the kitchen. “That clock, the outside--” He gestured behind himself but still stepped closer to George. “Are all those chimneys real or a ruse?”
Looking at the two of them, no one would have expected them to be friends, to be so open with each other, that they brought each other to their familial homes. But three months on and they were definitely at that point. Sure there was a sliver of attraction on George's part as well, but it was nowhere as important as the friendship they had carved out over the last few weeks.
He grinned now, watching as Jiang Cheng took in everything with that wide eyed look everyone seemed to get whenever they were at the Burrow for the first time. "I wonder what sort of ruse you could pull with fake chimneys." The laughter was clear in George's voice, though he hoped it was obvious that he wasn't laughing at Jiang Cheng. "But no, they're real. You'll find the fireplaces they connect to all throughout the house."
Starting up the stairs, he didn't look behind himself to see if the cultivator was following. He started speaking, as he showed off the rooms that belonged to his family, one by one. "At one point, all of us lived here. Six brothers, our sister Ginny, and our parents. Bill's the oldest and he moved out first. He's a cursebreaker, a bit of an adventurer really. Charlie's the one with the dragons and then there's Percy. He followed our father into working for the Ministry of Magic, which governs us witches and wizards." He didn't mention the betrayal and how Percy had finally returned to them, that topic heavier than the lightness he was going for that evening.
He actually stopped when they got to his and Fred's old room, letting Jiang Cheng walk in so he could be horrified by the absolute explosion of red and gold that was the room. Posters of Quidditch teams were all over the walls, as well a few of the Weird Sister and Celestina Warbeck. "Then you know me and Fred. This one's our room. Yes, marvel at it."
While the beds were made, all the available surfaces of the room were covered in clutter and half made trinkets. It was organized chaos, in short. A few items were more serious, like protection charms and such, but their collective jokester personality showed through clearly. Photos of their time in Hogwarts, the two of them with friends, in Gryffindor Tower, on the Quidditch Pitch in uniform...of them all over Hogwarts were taped to their walls. They all moved, like any wizarding photo did, and some of them even waved at Jiang Cheng if he looked at them.
“Things can be just decorative!” Jiang Cheng argued, though he seemed to be fighting a laugh of his own.
Sometimes people rambled at Jiang Cheng and he wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. He didn’t feel that way with George. He felt embarrassingly enamored and annoyed about that fact in equal measure. It left his face fighting between scowl and amused smile all the way up to the twins’ bedroom.
“One girl stuck with six boys,” he murmured, grimacing for this Ginny’s sake. “I can’t imagine nine people living in this house. And you all made it to adulthood. Miracle.” He leaned into the twins’ room and jerked in surprise at the sight of a photo waving at him. He couldn’t help but move closer, unconsciously lifting his hand in a half-wave in return.
"Don't feel too sorry for her. Just because she was the only girl, doesn't mean she didn't hold her own among us. She's tougher than all of us combined," George grinned, watching as Jiang Cheng was fascinated by the moving photos. "There's magic involved in photo taking. The more superstitious population think a little bit of your soul is in each photo of you taken, but if that was the case, we'd all be immortal."
A photo of Angelina Johnson caught his eye, as she smiled and waved. It was from right before he and Fred had left school in such a spectacular fashion, before life had truly gotten terrible and they all still found things to smile over. He brushed his fingers over the photo of her sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, before turning his attention away. Merlin's balls, he still hadn't told Fred about her and him and he wasn't sure if he ever would. It was a gamble, now, considering Katie was from around the same time as him and Angelina falling into bed together, but he wasn't sure if she had ever shared that information with her friends.
What a mess.
"Right! Let's move on, eh?" He asked, mostly rhetorically, as he smiled and waited for Jiang Cheng to follow.
Smirking a little at the fond way George spoke about his sister, Jiang Cheng took in the room with quiet curiosity. He tried to imagine him and his siblings growing up in such a place. The others would probably have thrived in such lived-in chaos. He didn’t know if he was capable. That wouldn’t have stopped him from trying, but still.
“What is the rush? Are you afraid I’ll see something embarrassing if we linger anywhere for too long?” he asked. Instead of allowing George to move this tour along, Jiang Cheng wandered over to the picture that had drawn George’s attention. He picked up the frame and then glanced over his shoulder at George, his eyebrows raised. “She’s quite beautiful. Someone special, I imagine.”
It was his own damn fault for being so obvious, but he still cursed Jiang Cheng’s penchant for observation. He saw way too much, more than George was comfortable with sometimes. “Fred dated her on and off while at Hogwarts,” George admitted, wondering if he could get away with leaving it at that. “She’s a good friend of ours though. We were on our House Quidditch team together - a sport played on broomsticks.”
He found one photo of the team from when Oliver had still been captain and he was still a wee teenager, lifting it and showing it off in hopes that it distracted the older man away from any more questions. “If I can get a game going, you should come watch. Plenty of fun.”
Having grown up around Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng was annoyingly familiar with the kind of talking around a subject a charming person could do. He narrowed his eyes at George in a comedically suspicious way.
“You don’t have to throw a diversion at me to avoid answering questions. If you don’t want to talk about something, just say I don’t want to talk about that. I’m not going to use zidian on you just to get answers,” he deadpanned. As frustratingly curious as he was about George and this house and his life, Jiang Cheng was also a deeply private person who had no shame in telling someone to mind their own damned business. He’d have nothing but begrudging respect for anyone who did the same to him.
“But you can tell me more about this ridiculous sounding game,” he said, gesturing towards the door.
"Wait, zidian can do that?" George sounded surprised, as he put the photo down. And then, per JC’s request, he said, “Great. I don’t want to talk about Angelina. Maybe some other time,” and led the way out of the room and to the rest of the tour. “You’d love Quidditch though. A real test of agility and strength. Plus, who doesn’t love trying to knock the heads off people?” When George had been in his prime, he had been a great Beater. He hadn’t played a game in a couple of years now though, maybe the last being at a family gathering. It would be nice to see if he could still keep up.
He babbled on though, showing off the rest of the house, eventually leading their way back down the rickety stairs to the common rooms. Pictures of various Weasleys and friends peered at them from the walls, moving and whispering to each other as they watched George show Jiang Cheng around. It had been awhile since they had seen George this animated.
While they were in the living room, he opened up the hidden liquor cabinet that Arthur had. It was an open secret and everyone had broken into it, growing up. Thankfully it was stocked enough that George didn't feel guilty taking a bottle of mead and two glasses for them before heading back into the kitchen and to the backyard, which was even more ridiculous than the house.
Flutterby bushes lined the pathway into the backyard, shaking and twitching as their kind tended to do. The red head went for the mismatched patio furniture that was just off to the side of the garden, which was overgrown with weeds and generally unkempt. A pond full of frogs could be heard just around the other side of it, while an orchard laid just beyond.
Setting the mead and glasses down on a table that had seen plenty of abuse through the years, George flopped down on a cushioned recliner. “So, what do you think?”
Jiang Cheng didn’t bother to explain the zidian’s uses, he just gave George a judgmental stare that bordered on affectionate. He was a little relieved they were moving on, when it came down to it. Hearing about some great love of George’s life would’ve been uncomfortable at best. Instead, Jiang Cheng found himself following quietly, making curt commentary here and asking a baffled question there. The moving pictures would never be less unsettling, but he was surprisingly skilled at treating them with respect.
Once they were outside, though, Jiang Cheng felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. This was a home that had been lived in by a family that loved each other dearly. It was painted on every surface.
“I think…” He stood at the edge of the patio and looked out into the yard for a long moment before turning back to George with a thoughtful stare. “It’s very…you. Unpolished, genuine.” Intoxicating. Terrifying. He didn’t voice those thoughts. “Comfortable and familiar even when it has no reason to be.” He smirked a little and sat down in a chair. Or rather, perched on the edge, back straight.
“What’s that?” he nodded to the mead.
There was something off about the other man, but George couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the chaos that the Burrow presented, but whatever it was, it seemed to leave Jiang Cheng now. “I never heard the word unpolished sound so complimentary before,” George teased. And it did. It didn’t feel negative, the way he said, but then again, there was a bias at play here.
Instead of dwelling too much on that though, he poured two glasses of mead, before offering one of the glasses to Jiang Cheng. “This is mead. It’s fermented honey and water and the one here is darker, a little bit stronger than most. So it’s best drank at room temperature. Give it a go, yeah?”
“The unpolished part was definitely a judgment. Have you people never heard of a gardener?” Jiang Cheng joked back, straightfaced but with mischief in his eyes even as he reached for the offered glass. He wasn’t a child; he wouldn’t have a mental breakdown about touching George’s hand. But he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself either.
He was annoyingly touch-starved.
“Smells like something we have at home. It’s not as popular as baijiu but it’s around.” Taking a sip, he tipped his head to the side and lifted his eyebrows in a reluctantly pleased expression. He downed the rest of the glass and held it back out in a silent request for more.
“Seven kids and you think we could hire a gardener,” George laughed, taking up his own glass for a sip. His eyes widened though and he swallowed his mouthful quickly, as the other man knocked back his entire glass with his second drink. If his eyes lingered a little too long on Jiang Cheng’s pale throat as he drank, well, who was to say?
“Merlin, take it a little slowly, will you?” He said, not an admonishment if the mirth in his voice was any indication. And with the way he poured him another glass immediately when it was asked for. “You’re supposed to go slow with it, to savor it...What’s baijiu?”
“Seven kids, I think at least half of you should be gardeners…” Jiang Cheng tried not to be too pleased that he’d encouraged a laugh out of George, but he was predictable like that and a smile teased at his mouth anyway. Positive attention was rare. Precious and nerve wracking all at once. He would not allow himself to get used to it.
“Baijiu is fermented sorghum.” He made a point to smell the mead for longer this time and take a slower drink, but he still left the glass half-empty. The burn helped him breath. He wasn’t his lush of a brother, but he supposed he did have a soft spot for shutting up his brain with liquor. “Most of it tastes awful but it does the job in record time. This is...smoother. Less likely to kick me in the teeth,” he admitted, leaning back into his seat. He rested his head against the back in a rare show of building ease.
Not bothering to hit back on the gardener remark, George swirled his glass of mead around and watched the golden liquid move, so he wasn't staring at the other man so obviously. "That's a grain right? A sweet one?" George wasn't too worldly, but he had used all sorts of things for potions and he recalled that particular plant as having originated in Africa. But he couldn't remember much more than that. Herbology had never been his strongest suit, that had been more of Fred's speciality while George had shown an affinity for Transfiguration.
"Glad I was able to introduce you to something different anyway. Wasn't sure where you were on your journey toward alcoholism," he joked, knowing full well that his own problems with drinking too much were not universal. Jiang Cheng always seemed so buttoned up though, the rare times he saw him let his guard down were around alcohol. As it was, a pleasant warmth was ready spreading through George's body with the mead. Which was why he was probably bold enough to say, "You seem to be getting along better with your brother now. That's nice." Jiang Cheng shrugged his agreement about sorghum, expending more of his energy in taking another drink than educating. The liquor burned nicely and he was quickly feeling looser in his bones. He’d almost forgotten all the lovely family pictures inside. Well, no. Not really. “My alcoholism. I would dump the remains of this glass on you, but I’m actually really enjoying this.” He took another sip and sank even further into the chair, staring out across the yard. “Wei Wuxian and I are…” He exhaled. “He’s more forgiving than he should be.” Boldly, he leaned forward to steal the bottle and started pouring more into his glass. “Is it difficult--,” He gestured at the house with his pilfered bottle, “--being here with only a fraction of your siblings?”
"If family isn't willing to forgive you for horrible mistakes or hard choices that you have to make, who will?" George asked, thinking back to Percy and how messy that situation had become on both sides. "Familial love should be unconditional."
He only watched as the bottle was taken, letting his glass sit at half empty for now as he was in no rush to get stupid drunk at the moment. But he definitely didn't stop Jiang Cheng from indulging, curious about how open he planned to get. Looking over at the house sitting besides them when it was gestured to, he didn't have to ponder the question for very long.
"Honestly? Probably not as difficult as it should be. None of us really live at the Burrow anymore and so we only see each other at functions or if we happen to be home at the same time. There were a few years where I went without seeing anyone I cared about for months at a time. If I just pretend they're only a Floo call away, it's not too hard being back here. Having Fred around lessens the sting of not having the others, too." Maybe that was wrong, maybe it wasn't. It wasn't like he loved any of his siblings less, but none of the others were dead. "Still hoping they end up showing up sometime soon, though."
Since George didn’t seem bothered about the theft, Jiang Cheng kept the bottle next to his opposite hip, out of reach. He wasn’t sure how much more he intended to drink, but he was feeling like being a little bit of a pest for his own personal enjoyment.
“No, I...understand. There are less people at the pier than usual but the important ones haven’t been there in so long. Now that they are...their presence now takes up more space,” he hummed, another drink taken. His eyes closed and he sighed. “Still it’s...a lot.” A mischievous smirk curled the corner of his mouth and he held the glass up to his mouth to speak over the rim. “Can I come visit your ugly garden if I need a break from it?”
That was a good way of putting it. Fred's presence took up a lot more space now, so much that the ghost of the others weren’t quite felt.
Making an offended noise, George drained the rest of his drink and held out his glass on a wordless ask. "Even if that's rude as hell...I guess. So long as you don't try to make it pretty like you." Was the high flush on his cheeks from the mead? Or something else? He wasn't telling.
Jiang Cheng snorted an undignified laugh and leaned over with the bottle to fill George’s glass. The alcohol was already carving off his sharp edges, but the company didn’t hurt either. He dumped some of the mead on George’s hand though. His finesse was always the first thing to go when he was drinking. He clumsily set his drink aside to press his sleeve to the mess on George’s hand and he resolutely didn’t make eye contact.
“I promise not to do your gardening for you,” he said. His tone was overly serious in a mocking way, but it turned flirtatious as he settled back into his seat and reclaimed his own glass. “Unless you ask me very nicely anyway.”
Was this the first time they had actually touched each other? It was, George thought dumbly, as he watched his hand be cleaned up wordlessly. He stayed with his hand outstretched like that a few seconds longer after Jiang Cheng was done and then abruptly drowned the glass of mead like it was a shot. Then he set his glass down and stood unsteadily.
George was always so good at not confronting his feelings. And at the moment? He was having quite a few of them that he wasn’t sure would be welcomed, even if the other man’s defenses had been lowered and he sounded downright inviting with his words. “Right, well, how about I nicely ask you to come help me de-gnome this garden? I feel like the mead’s a fair payoff. And I think you’ll get a kick out of tossing these arseholes over the garden wall.” vThe movement felt abrupt, but Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure if he was just slowing down as the warmth in his belly grew. A voice in the back of his mind quietly panicked anyway. He finished his drink and gave George an awkward smile as he grabbed the bottle.
“Ah...more than fair.” He stood up, his gaze anywhere but George. “As long as I get to take this with me, I’ll toss all the….arseholes you need me to toss.”