Wangxian Oneshots

Will You Be My Booth Bunny?

Summary:
When Jiang Cheng abandons Wei Ying during con week to jetset to Paris for his anniversary, Wei Ying is left in a bind. The convention is in a few days, and he’s down one pair of hands and one male-model-proportioned didi to wear his costumes and entice customers to the booth. Then, in an unexpected twist of fate, Wei Ying’s cold, aloof coworker Lan Zhan volunteers to help Wei Ying in Jiang Cheng’s place. It’ll take some work—there are costumes to tailor, arrangements to be made, and the simple matter of Lan Zhan barely tolerating Wei Ying to overcome—but, with the application of a little elbow grease, it just might work.

Notes:
Sorry about the word count! It was 100% not my intention to write something so long. I'm not entirely sure where it came from, except that I was enjoying myself so much. I guess it just goes to show how much more fun it can be to write what you know! I hope you enjoy the fic even half as much as I enjoyed writing it!

TW/CW:
Lan Zhan comes out as gender fluid to Wei Ying, and is referred to with both she/her and he/him pronouns throughout the fic.
Convention creeps: A plot point involves somebody taking photos of cosplayers without permission. There is reference to the fact that some of the cosplayers may be minors. There are no sexual comments or interactions involving the creep.
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Con Crunch
“Didi! You can’t leave me high and dry like this. We had plans. You promised.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“It was an implicit promise! We always go! You can’t just bail on me! Who will be my booth bunny?”

“Do not call me that,” Jiang Cheng snarled, rudely jabbing his chopsticks at Wei Ying. Wei Ying had half a mind to text A-Jie, but he wasn’t quite ready to call in the big guns yet. He’d save that ace for when things were looking desperate.

“Fine, you’re not a booth bunny. You’re my fully clothed, never ogled model who has definitely never been objectified. All those people buying the photos of you in pasties are definitely looking respectfully.”

“If you keep talking I’m going to break your legs.”

“And then you’d definitely have to come to the con with me to help me get around! You know those places are an accessibility nightmare. A-Cheng, please.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, but Wei Ying could sense he was breaking. He just needed one little push.

“I finished the Ye Ziyun cosplay,” Wei Ying said, playing his trump card. His non-A-Jie trump card, that was.

It did the trick. Jiang Cheng perked up with interest, his ears practically pricking forward. Got him, Wei Ying thought. But the next moment, Jiang Cheng slumped back in his seat.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Didi, it’s Yun-er.”

“I heard you!” Jiang Cheng snapped. He appeared to be chewing something, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if working at a tough piece of gristle. Wei Ying waited, as patiently as he could manage. “It’s our anniversary.” Jiang Cheng finally gritted out. This confession seemed to cause him physical pain, and Wei Ying half expected him to spit a molar onto the table. “Huaisang got us tickets.”

“Oh.” It was a rare glimpse into Jiang Cheng’s love life. He was reluctant to share anything, usually, keeping these things close to his chest. It wasn’t until Wei Ying had shown up at Jiang Cheng’s apartment unannounced, a little tipsy and looking for a drinking buddy, and accidentally walked in on Huaisang lounging in a bathrobe with Jiang Cheng massaging their feet that Wei Ying even learned they were dating. “Well. I mean, a concert’s only a one-night thing, right? You’ll be free during the day—”