[ childe had an edge on him the day he stole a seat beside him at third-round knockout. zhongli hadn't sensed any threat in the area, and the fatui had no reason to target him again anyway. he only hadn't expected exactly who would be seeking him out—but it wasn't a shock when he saw him. they fell into conversation immediately, smooth as silk.
earlier that evening, zhongli hadn't been sure why he ordered a full carafe of wine. he wouldn't have finished it on his own.
maybe this is why he doesn't force childe away when he boxes him in and grasps his neck again. (surprising, considering how vulnerable that part is. anyone else might have met their end between two boulders or under a giant meteor.) zhongli's hand shoots out again to tightly grip childe's wrist—almost twisting, a little threatening.
he feels the press of those fingers and his pulse rising to meet it. he stares outward, beginning to ask what's happened before childe draws away. zhongli hesitates before letting him go. he seems just as confused as him.
his eyes dart to the hand reaching into his jacket, already predicting what it was searching for. was he expecting to cut the offending thing out of his neck? was he finding his pulse for a reason? no—if childe had wanted to sink his knife into him, he had plenty of opportunities to do so already. it didn't line up with all that had happened.
zhongli blinks and the knife hits the wall beside him. he sees the knife shining in his periphery, though his eyes are still settled on childe. he gestures, and zhongli turns to look.
he's observed childe's skillset from a distance before. in the early days of their odd friendship, he was a surreptitious audience to one of his battles against the traveler in the golden house. back then, the mark was enormous and ghostlike, possessing the center of the traveler's body and acting as a target for one of childe's most concentrated attacks. zhongli made sure to remember it.
this isn't like that. he presses his fingers to his skin and watches as it gives and stretches like a scar. its blue outline is almost white now, incandescent where childe had touched it, as if his vision suffused and revived it.
zhongli's heart drops into his stomach. he knows this mark—had something like it once before, thousands of years ago. in that flowering field, a symbol drew itself in gold on the inside of his forearm—a geometric representation of a blooming glaze lily, seen from a bird's eye view. guizhong gently explained to him what it was, smiling with amusement and showing him the shimmering geo symbol on the back of her hand. morax avoided her for a little while after that, sorting through his thoughts, but he couldn't stay away for long.
with guizhong's death, the symbol's faint light slowly eroded. when zhongli shed the dark skin of morax, it disappeared entirely along with it.
zhongli turns his head to childe, eyes wide and staring, fingers still on his neck. his mouth parts open and his stone heart revives, beating upwards into his throat. there shouldn't be two marks. yet here he is. here they are. ]
You...
[ he says quietly, trailing off. childe already said he hadn't done it. he wouldn't have done what he did if that was the case. but why here and now? ]
[Any other time, and that grip on his wrist would've been as good as an invitation, earning Zhongli a vicious grin and ever-more wheedling for a fight. But for once, a fight isn't on his mind; he's far too concerned with watching Zhongli.
With a little more space back between them, and in the quiet of the hallway, it's a little bit easier to clear his head--he'd intended to apologize for causing a scene (hah), but Zhongli's reaction gives him pause.
(And oh, what he wouldn't give to see that wide-eyed look under different circumstances. How many times has he daydreamed about shocking Zhongli on the battlefield, of meeting that legendary strength and proving himself capable against it? He'd be--not jealous, of course, but maybe a little annoyed, if he wasn't so confused.)]
...It wasn't me. [Just--restating, since a lot has happened in the past few minutes. Zhongli's right; he wouldn't have reacted this way if he'd done this. It's undeniably his symbol, but it's a mark he uses exclusively for battle, not... whatever's happening here.] But judging from that expression, it wasn't you, either.
[So his initial assumption, lacking a basis though it was, is off-base, leaving him with nothing but the shock on Zhongli's face to work with. He isn't sensing anything Abyssal, so it can't be that...]
[ childe's words are nearly drowned by his racing thoughts. pieces are slowly but surely sliding and locking into place. he deserves an answer, but if zhongli had this mark, if it is what he thinks it is, then it would stand to reason that—
in the little window of skin where his shirt and jacket unbutton and part open, just above his waistband, zhongli catches sight of a faint glimmer of gold. (why is childe still wearing his suit like this? maybe he was hoping a fight onboard or something.) his eyes are trained on it, following the string of gold as it slowly curves on childe's skin.
he crosses his arms and sets a hand on his chin. finally, he looks back at childe. ]
[It's tempting to want to demand immediate answers--but Childe's a lot more patient than most people assume. But there's not much for him to do but stare while he waits for Zhongli to gather his thoughts. And while he's good at compartmentalizing, it's difficult to stop his own mind from wandering to his... revelations, earlier in the evening.
Gods, he's stupid. No wonder Signora treats--treated him like a fool. It's so obvious, in hindsight. How could he not have realized? Even if tonight's the first time they've ever touched so gently or spoken so intimately, surely he knows himself better than this. There were a hundred opportunities to figure it out. He'd told himself it was just the novelty of finding a friend, that it was just easy to get caught up in Zhongli's easy acceptance of him, as though he were truly just another normal person.
Or maybe he had realized. Maybe he'd purposely chosen to look away as soon as he'd had even the slightest inclination that what he felt in Zhongli's presence ran deeper than the simple pleasure of friendship. That he wanted--anything, really. Because at the end of the day, his desires couldn't outweigh his mission, and that was that.
(Maybe that's why his feelings about Zhongli's deception are so much more complicated than they ever should've been. But that, at least, he'd already known.)
Zhongli speaks again, then, and it draws him out of his thoughts--but it takes a second for the words to register. And while it really doesn't take that much to put 2 and 2 together and figure out why Zhongli's asking, he can't help that his kneejerk reaction is just man blinking.gif]
[ he's disregarding childe's discomfort. this is more important than that.
whether or not he can see it, zhongli can hear his blood beating in his ears. he walks forward to meet childe at arm's length, his eyes still trained on his hip. that shape almost glows brighter with his approach. ]
There.
[ he lowers his hand to that window of skin, just short of touching it. ]
[HELLO? HELLO??? THEY'RE IN PUBLIC. WHAT'S HAPPENING--
--Oh. Yes, that sure is something glowing on him too, isn't it. That makes more sense.
The very abrupt onslaught of ?!?!?!?! emotions subsides just a little, though there's no way he's not obviously blushing, which is almost more embarrassing than everything else that's happened so far. Gods. Is it too much to ask, he wonders, to leave him with a scrap of dignity when it comes to Zhongli? He should've just pretended that damn mark was his doing and freaked out in private.
But it's too late now, and honestly, he wants answers too. So. Here they are. He hadn't backed away when Zhongli moved closer, because of course he hadn't, but now he kind of wishes he had. He hasn't been shy in years, and he's a soldier to boot! Normally, there's nothing weird about showing skin. But noooo, of course now it has to feel different.
Still, he makes a valiant attempt at pretending; he clears his throat, but otherwise doesn't say anything, just does as he's told. Fortunately, he'd left his outer coat out on his chair on the deck, and with the way he tends to tailor his clothes, he doesn't have to get too spicy, so they're probably not going to get kicked off the boat for public indecency.
Some of the awkwardness fades from his body language as he bares the mark, too, his attention drawn back to the situation at hand. Hip. Whatever.]
Huh? [MORA??? WHY. Is this a Harbinger thing. Did Yelan do this somehow. WHAT IS GOING ON.]
[ a valiant attempt, though there's no hiding that sudden flush of childe's cheeks. for that moment, before childe lifts his shirt, zhongli's focus is only on that. this was a side of childe that zhongli's never seen—at least to this degree. he's teased him before, but those instances were easily brushed away. childe seemed bashful around him, taken aback and fighting whatever thoughts occupied him. it was a small show of weakness, and only for zhongli. in the same way that childe wanted to crumble cool exterior, he wants to see this again. for much longer. and many more times after that.
his concentration is broken the instant childe lifts the lower part of his shirt to reveal his hip. ignoring the spread of soft skin and muscle (or not), zhongli's gaze traces the emerging shape with some surprise, though not for the same reason. childe already knows where mora originated from. it nearly cements his idea of what's happened, but there's one last test, if childe doesn't resist or spurn him.
whether childe's ready for it or not, zhongli lightly presses his (still gloved) fingers over the mark. there's an instant reaction, the subtle swell of geo energy rushing to meet him—the same as childe experienced before. he's silent, watching, letting all of the pieces slide and lock into place.
it's all he can do to ignore the consequences of what he's doing. right now, this is too important to be distracted by something like that.
all of those rising feelings throughout the evening. that unusual comfort when childe was by his side, their japes and stories, the letters from far beyond zhongli's reach still finding him across the sea. the steadfast belief that even if childe was reckless and always teetered at the edge of life and death, he would survive. he would always return to liyue, and zhongli would always have a seat waiting for him. everything made sense.
[Childe's not particularly sensitive--dual-wielding hydro and electro does that to a guy, not to mention the whole Abyss thing--but he braces himself anyway as Zhongli reaches out, unwilling to be caught off-guard for the umpteenth time tonight. It's almost a little disappointing when Zhongli's gloved fingertips feel just like anyone else's would against his. If a single glance can set his heart stuttering in his chest, he'd half-expected his knees to go weak at such an intimate touch, like a maiden in a fairytale. He doesn't mind being spared the mortification, but it still seems a little... anticlimactic.
At least until the mark reacts.
It's because he's desensitized that the rush of elemental sensation hits so hard. He's intimately familiar with the rush of hydro, the jolt of electro--those sensations have always run deeper than the physical, and he's trained relentlessly to master them. This feels completely different, and if it weren't so mild on his end, it really would have set him off-kilter.
His muscles jump under Zhongli's touch, though whether he's responding to Zhongli or to the mark is anyone's guess. He takes a steadying breath, keeping his grip tight on his shirt so that he doesn't do something stupid, like grab Zhongli's hand or summon a dagger. Or, worst of all, lean closer.
Zhongli's voice is so quiet, so serious. Childe can't help but match him.]
[ zhongli feels the little jolt and tightening of muscle underneath his fingertips. childe responds to him with a muttered question, and zhongli is brought again from his thoughts. he raises his gold eyes to meet childe's, and it may have been a mistake.
he hadn't taken in how close they were until now. childe's cheeks are still flushed red, and zhongli can feel his warm breath on his chin. it's intoxicating, knowing him for his mischievousness and over-confidence, addling him with the merest glance and the smallest touch. does childe even know himself yet? what kinds of signals he's been giving out? zhongli's heart is drawn towards him again, willing him to lean forward and catch childe by the back of his hair and—
zhongli really is in love. there's relief in finally calling it what it is.
talking first. his fingertips stay pressed to the mark, not willing to draw them away just yet. his eyes flicker away as he conjures up the memory of his conversation with guizhong. ]
There's an old story, lost to history now. Thousands of years ago, a young empress fell for a member of her court. He was an assassin, and he would often be disguised and dispatched to the the other regions of Teyvat. Still, she found that he loved her too, and they promised themselves to each other. Before he left for a particularly long assignment, they drew azure cranes, the woman's favorite bird, into their skin using red ink. They promised that no matter what disguise he wore or how time would change them, they would use these symbols to find each other again.
Years after the assassin was dispatched, the empress was informed of his death. Heartbroken, she was taken in by one of the other kings among her, and he made her his wife.
The woman lived this way into her old age. After her husband passed, she relinquished her empire to her eldest son and settled into retirement. One day, a young orphan wandered to her home, and he bore the mark that she and her lover had drawn long ago. The child was not the man she waited for, but she took him in regardless and raised him as her son. She died many years later, at peace now that the azure cranes found each other once again. Her adopted son became a great and well-loved king, and he made the azure crane a part of his family crest.
[ long as fuck, but aren't genshin convos like that sometimes?? and he's a grandpa who loves stories, so. anyway. ]
This story made sense of the marks that appeared on pairs of humans long ago. They would identify the person they were fated to meet. When they did so, they would play a substantial role in each other's lives, romantic or otherwise. ...You may be more familiar with the term 'soulmates.' This is very much like that.
However, there was an abysmally small number of these instances in Liyue. Many of these pairs perished in the Archon War. I expected this phenomenon to have been lost entirely.
[ zhongli clears his throat, and his eyes fall back down to childe's hip. if childe doesn't resist, his fingers slide over his hip. his thumb presses gently to the mark, feeling that resonance again. soulmates. ]
...I've had a mark like this once before. It vanished when Guizhong passed.
[ he looks at childe again, looking for any dissent or disappointment or resistance. ]
I've never heard of it appearing twice in one lifetime, but Archons are far different from mortals.
[He's always liked listening to Zhongli talk. Not just because of Zhongli's voice, though he does very much like that too--deep and rich, with a steady cadence and calm authority. It is, in fact, probably the only thing that could tear his focus away from the pinpoint sensations of Zhongli's fingertips against his skin.
(It'd be easier to concentrate if he pulled away. He doesn't.)
But he likes the way Zhongli tells stories, too. Childe had realized, long after they'd parted, that many of the things Zhongli had framed as legends and folk tales were things he'd been present to witness personally. It's been a little tricky to adjust his perceptions, especially since Zhongli's steadfastly continued to distance himself, or so he's heard. When Zhongli says things like "it's simply a story that was once popular", it's very easy to believe him.
Except--this time, Zhongli doesn't beat around the bush. He states, in no uncertain terms, that he knows what's going on. That this is something he's not only seen, but personally experienced. Suddenly, everything he'd just listened to slips sideways, and the story takes on a whole new light.
There's no disappointment on his face, no resistance. Just genuine confusion in those lightless blue eyes as he searches Zhongli's face, tilting his head slightly. But his attention stutters at the brush of Zhongli's thumb, sending his thoughts scattering like startled crystalflies.
It makes it easy for a thoughtless reply to slip out, unintentional.]
That can't be right.
[...
Hastily, he lifts a free hand, but he drops it again when he realizes there's not really enough space for it between them. (And that's, hm. Yeah. Let's not focus on that.)]
Wait, I mean--I don't think you're lying. It's just, that doesn't make any sense.
[He's never known Zhongli to be mistaken about important before (save, perhaps, his choice of accomplices). But maybe there's a first time for everything? Granted, Childe's own confidence is totally unfounded, but what Zhongli's saying is... impossible, surely.]
[ that's not a reaction he expected. the shock and confusion, yes, but not being told that his explanation hadn't made sense to him. he thought he was fairly clear. (stupid.)
for now, this takes precedent over the gay panic. ]
Which part of it didn't seem to make sense? I can explain it to you again in simpler terms.
[STUPID. Everyone in this hallway is stupid. Especially Childe, who seems very sure of himself for literally no reason at all.]
No, no, your explanation was clear. [He had been paying attention, up until the steady thrum of geo energy had drawn his attention away. He's a professional. He can concentrate on important things. He is definitely not still halfway-distracted by their proximity.
The whole concept of "soulmates are real, actually" is... something he'll stop and think about in a minute, maybe. For now, he's way too focused on the much more important, much more ridiculous conclusion Zhongli seems to have drawn.] But that can't be what's happening to us, right? Think about it. Me? I'm not even from Liyue. [What does that have to do with anything, Childe.] Not to mention, you know, everything else.
[He's a Harbinger? Mostly human? The part that isn't human came directly from the Abyss? The list goes on and on. There's ten thousand other reasons that there's no way he, of all people, could be... anything more than a blip in Rex Lapis's long, long life, let alone something like a soulmate. Absurd.
Self-deprecating, or self-aware? A little of both, maybe, though Childe certainly thinks of it as the latter. He knows very well who he is, and he isn't ashamed of it; confidence is not something he lacks, and that's genuine. But generally, he doesn't expect other people to tolerate him unless they have to. He could easily count the number of people he'd consider true friends on one hand.
That's part of what had drawn him to Zhongli in the first place, after all. People don't just like him, not beyond a surface level. Probably, that should've been his first sign that something was off.
Zhongli being his soulmate, well, that's... a lot less ridiculous. But if he's lucky, Zhongli won't notice that he hadn't dismissed that part.]
'Everything else.' [ zhongli repeats it dubiously, lowering his head. he'll get into this in a minute. ]
To my knowledge, the anomaly wasn't specific to Liyue. Your country of origin wouldn't be of any significance.
[ 'everything else' could be a multitude of things, none of which (to his knowledge) would be obstructive to what's happened. what use was there in considering the circumstances? that childe was a harbinger, or partially borne out of the abyss, or bloodthirsty, or reckless? the marks would exist regardless, signifying their connection above all others and above all else.
more than that, zhongli understood his own feelings. zhongli had polished his patience over thousands of years, yet he still felt childe's absence once he left for inazuma. he considered the reality of childe's death multiple times, each time stifling that rising feeling of grief once reserved for old comrades and partners.
if childe were to verbalize it, zhongli would argue that a blip is long enough for the earth's plates to slip along a fault and for cities to be leveled in the aftermath. childe was bright and blazing, painting his new life in vivid colors—a brushfire razing a dying field, laying the seeds for spring. liyue's opinion of the fatui (or of childe) was inconsequential. ]
You find it hard to believe that you might be the other half of this.
[ he lowers his eyes back to the shining symbol against childe's hip. the energy chases the tip of his thumb, gathering in a golden swarm. he resists pressing into it again just to see how childe reacts. ]
If I'm understanding you correctly, I don't share your concerns. I've given it thorough consideration.
[ zhongli is dropping hints that he likes childe. ]
[It's a good thing he resists because Childe is having a hard enough time concentrating as it is, sensation crystallizing under his skin the longer Zhongli leaves his fingers where they are. His gaze flicks, against his will, back to the mark glowing so prominently on Zhongli's neck--but it's only for a moment before he processes what Zhongli's saying, looking back at his face with wide eyes.
??
????
????????]
You don't? [Share his concerns? What????] You've given it--what? Right now?
[Sorry Zhongli, maybe he'll answer the question in a minute, he's just busy being a giant question mark at the moment.]
zhongli furrows his brow, but he's otherwise unmoved. he wasn't unclear before, but maybe he is now...?? ]
Yes. I've considered it since I first saw the mark on my neck.
[ which arguably is not so long ago but, but in his mind, there wasn't much to question about it (something he can elaborate on if need be). childe obviously feels differently. ]
I... [Well. Hm. What's his priority, here? Logically, it should be putting this whole conversation to the side and getting to the bottom of what's really going on right now. But...
His gaze drifts back to the mark one more time. Its glow has faded some, presumably without his touch to bolster it; he's not entirely sure what he'll do if he glances down at his own mark right at this moment, so he doesn't.]
Not--wrong, exactly, I just...
[It would make sense to redirect Zhongli's focus and put this aside. But Childe's always been a little too weak to the whims of those he cares about, whether it's for the best or not.
I'm just not sure you realize what you're saying, is how that statement rests on his tongue, unfinished. But he'd doubted Zhongli's claims of inexperience earlier, which means he has to believe that Zhongli understands exactly what he's talking about now. And even if he were to change his mind, his instincts are telling him that it's... unlikely, that Zhongli would be so confident if he were misguided. He's missed plenty of steps in his attempts at being mortal, sure, but this is apparently part of his very own history. And Childe's never known him to be careless with his memories.
Slowly, he lifts a hand. He reaches out, and if Zhongli doesn't stop him, he'll let his hand splay loosely across Zhongli's throat. With his thumb pressed against the center of the Riptide mark, the rest of his fingers rest, loose and relaxed but no less deadly, on the other side of his neck.
Just to see what Zhongli will do, if he lets Childe get that far in the first place.]
[ he had been waiting for the smallest signal that childe understood, be it one word or a soft gaze or a graze of his hand. it was not a matter of if, but when. he watches as childe's words taper off into nothing and he drops his gaze to his neck—to that mark, undoubtedly. the quietude that follows is almost enough. zhongli is seconds from breaking it when childe's hand reaches out.
zhongli is silent, watching him. he swallows once before childe's fingers find his skin, his parted lips coming closed. he raises his chin, and again, he feels that small current under his skin, swirling upward to meet where childe's thumb presses to his pulse. it's less startling now than before, but it's a reminder nonetheless: zhongli is as much a part of this as childe, just as subject to his weaknesses.
he doesn't reach to peel childe's fingers from around his neck. without taking his eyes from childe's, he tips his head away from where his thumb presses down, baring his neck as if it's a show of complacency. it dares him to squeeze at his throat, crush his windpipe, sever a vein—and knows that he would never do such a thing. not to him. not like this, anyway.
zhongli reaffirms his hold over childe's hip, as if holding him steady. he gives into his impulse and gently presses his thumb to childe's mark, feeling the elemental energy rushing to meet him. it's almost reassuring, though zhongli hardly needs any more of that.
with his free hand, zhongli smooths his fingers over childe's jaw and over the edge of his cheek, his fingertips combed into that mess of orange hair. he should have taken off his gloves while he still could.
despite the dangerous circumstances, the way he looks at childe could almost be described as tender. ]
Childe. [ he hesitates a moment, then corrects himself: ] Tartaglia. I've waited for you long enough.
[ zhongli's fingers sink into childe's hair, and, if childe allows, zhongli draws him forward to meet his kiss. ]
It wasn't always this way. Once, he'd been quiet, shy, a boy of daydreams and fairytales. But that boy had died ten years ago, at the bottom of a cavern lit by sickly purple runes and artificial starlight. He tries, around his siblings, to cobble together enough shreds of "Ajax" to shield them from reality, but in truth, that hasn't been him for a decade. Sometimes, he doubts it was ever truly him in the first place--that the potential for Tartaglia always lurked deep in his heart, and that the Abyss simply broke apart the shell that encased it.
Whatever the case, the fact remains that here and now, Zhongli has chosen to communicate with him in the language he speaks best. He does more than indulge Childe's audacity--he bares his throat, offering a level of vulnerability, of trust, that Childe hasn't done anything to deserve.
It would be so easy to tighten his grip. To tap into his Vision, drive five small, watery blades into delicate skin, to stain his white gloves red. It almost certainly wouldn't kill Zhongli, and Childe would never attack him like this anyway, even if his petulant grudge had been truly hateful--but he could.
It's enough to make his own breath catch in his throat. Enough to rip through all the words they've exchanged, freeing him from his Harbinger-honed reflex of searching for deception, hidden traps or misdirections. It's even enough to assuage his other, more personal doubts... almost. He's not naive enough, not able to trust enough, to let one meaningful gesture settle every bit of conflict that's been roused in his heart. But it does mean that he doesn't jerk away when Zhongli tightens his hold on him, or when he reaches out. It means he holds perfectly still, his eyes finally moving back up to search Zhongli's, meeting that tenderness with the sort of wonder that comes with pondering the unbelievable, like the vastness of the universe or the depths of the sea. The affection of a god.
In this moment, he looks very mortal.
The sound of his name--and it is his name now, has been for years--sends a shudder pulsing through him, an involuntary and unfamiliar thing. And to think he'd been so confident about how this evening would go. Maybe it'll be funny in the future.
He doesn't miss the fact that Zhongli draws him in, instead of moving himself forward--but neither does it escape him that Zhongli's using a light touch. The opening strike is Zhongli's, but Childe could block it, if he wanted to.
He doesn't want to. He's still unsure about a lot of things, but not about that.
Whether or not Zhongli's kiss is soft, Childe meets him with demanding fervor. His hand drops from Zhongli's neck to grab his collar instead, the other moving to grip Zhongli's arm, as if to stop him from going too far, should he pull away. It is as much a threat as it is a confession, the very embodiment of the way Childe behaves around him. A bold grab for Zhongli's attention, for--everything Zhongli has to give, really.
It drives him crazy to know that Zhongli won't meet him at full strength in battle. This is a kiss that says I won't let you hold back here, too.
He is so, so bad about wanting things. It's only going to get worse, if he keeps being allowed to have them.
Also, they are definitely going to get caught making out in this hallway.]
since his abdication, zhongli has never missed the awe that came with being the geo archon. the duties he performed for the good of the human race were just that: the obligation allotted to the one with the most power. he did only what he felt he should do as their sole protector. the reverence of his people was a tool for keeping the peace, but the awe and wonder—morax neither wanted it nor sought it out. he would humbly accept his peoples' gratitude yet turn away from the statues and lacquered screens made in his likeness. he was a guardian, a general—not a heavenly being to be worshipped.
when childe stares up at him with those shining and awestruck eyes, infinitely blue, that streak of humility is broken. he wants that wondrous look, over and over.
whatever the intent of zhongli's kiss had been, it's lost in the way that childe surges forward and crushes his mouth against his. it's hard enough to ache, teeth pushing against teeth, as if the bindings that held him finally came loose. he tastes dessert, the wine, the faint hint of water. he feels childe's intent in how the crease of his collar pushes and burns into his skin, the sear of childe's fingers tightly pulling his arm. all of this, it says, is only for him. zhongli is briefly pulled in under the great wave of him, ensnaring and hungry.
then zhongli rises to meet him, as if childe had broken past some unspoken boundary. his desire spills open like blood from a freshly sliced wound. he roughly cranes his neck forward, his mouth opening and closing as he draws a sharp breath in. the light sway of the ship, its passengers, and the moon outside are barely thoughts in his mind. all of everything is tartaglia, lithe and warm against him, forcing his attention as if he could think of anyone else.
his fingers twist in the hair at the back of childe's head, holding him in place. the hand at his hip comes away, and instead he hooks his arm around his waist, splaying his palm against the curve of his back, bent like the string of a bow.
his mouth opens again, his breath hot, and he runs the crowns of his teeth over childe's lower lip. he yanks his hair downward to bare his throat, and then he closes his mouth over the base of it, tempted to bite and suck but ultimately deciding against it.
his lips drag on his skin as he leans over childe's shoulder. he murmurs to his ear in a low rumble: ]
Not here.
[ like he's not part of the problem. all of this to say: however much childe wanted him, zhongli felt the same in equal measure, if not more. there are doors in this hallway. one of them has to be open.
somewhere on the deck outside, ningguang unknowingly loses a bet. it's what she gets for assuming that zhongli is a better judge of character. ]
[It's exactly what she gets tbh. She could stand to lose more bets, in Beidou's opinion.
But there's truly such a difference between knowing and experiencing. Childe's well aware of that, of course, just like any warrior worth their salt would be. But when it comes to intimacy--well, no. When it comes to Zhongli, specifically, it's different.
Long before he'd known Zhongli's truly identity, he'd guessed at the strength hidden behind Zhongli's scholarly demeanor. Childe might be easy to manipulate, but he's not stupid; Zhongli could act as gentlemanly as he wanted, but Childe had recognized the type of warrior that lay underneath. Childe likes to burst onto the battlefield like a flash flood. Zhongli is the type to stroll in like the battle's already been won.
If he'd had to guess how Zhongli would kiss (which is not something he's ever wondered about, definitely, but if it were), he would've wagered it would be the same. Steady, grounding, a solid anchor in a storm. Thousands of years of patience and confidence, unyielding to even the fiercest onslaught.
Never would he have thought that Zhongli would respond to him in kind. It would be overwhelming if it weren't so utterly delightful, and Childe thrives under the attention. He throws himself against the sharp edges of desire all the time, with every fierce battle he seeks. Like hell he'll shy away from it now.
He doesn't know how to handle the idea of Zhongli treating him gently, like one of his countless hoarded treasures. He might very well fall apart.
Not that he isn't halfway there anyway, with the cut of Zhongli's teeth, the strength in his grip. He tenses for a moment when Zhongli pulls his hair, tempted to resist just for the sake of being defiant--but it seems stupid to be a brat about something he wants, and besides, Zhongli's mouth is very persuasive. Zhongli pulls away before he has the chance to lean into it, though, and he shudders again at the tone of Zhongli's voice before he even has a chance to process his words.
There's a myriad of half-baked sentiments on his tongue as he tries to catch his breath, heart racing. Since when has this been an option? and "inexperienced" my ass you damn liar and no really, did you literally just decide this five minutes ago or what--but all he actually manages to get out is a string of Snezhnayan curses, which he cuts off on his own by ducking his head, sinking his teeth into the mark on Zhongli's neck.
Zhongli resisted temptation. Childe has no such reservations.]
If you're fucking with me, [he says finally, rough and breathless against Zhongli's skin,] I'll never forgive you.
[It's more vulnerability than he'd like to show--more than he'd even realized he had left, honestly. But this is the only way he knows how to show trust: by revealing, little by little, how guarded and wary he actually is.]
you can assume zhongli takes him to another room idk this is too long and i rewrote it a bunch
[ there's a small swell of pride as zhongli recognizes the sneznhayan phrases in broken pieces. he can't help his subtle, hidden smile as his grip comes loose from childe's hair. he expects a kiss or a murmur, however deep or demanding—
pain bursts where childe sinks his teeth into his skin. zhongli shuts his eyes and breathes in as he withstands the bolt of pain in his neck. it isn't overwhelming at all, only a small shock of something he hasn't felt in an age.
the moment childe draws away, zhongli's blood rushes to meet the red ring on his neck. childe will see how brightly the riptide sigil glows beneath his lips; it shimmers where he shapes his words, quietly willing for him to return. if there was any hope that they would return to the event outside, that bite has snuffed it out completely.
childe isn't a real threat. zhongli has felt unimaginable pain, and each of childe's attempts to grab his attention is a grain of sand on an ocean floor. but childe tries anyway, slipping challenges into casual conversation, smiling at him with shining canines, waiting for the moment when the late two archon finally relents. even now, he kisses him hard enough to hurt, bites his neck and snarls at him, scrabbles for all he has to give.
this ferocity, too, is something that zhongli loves. it's a twisted want borne out of an insatiable and admirable drive for strength, even if teetered on the edge of lunacy. it's want all the same.
zhongli's desire flares and flickers with childe's breathless mutter. the bite behind his words is lost in their meaning: that childe's hidden hopes were coming to fruition, and he wants to trust that zhongli wouldn't stop.
he affects childe that deeply. he almost feels selfish for indulging in that truth.
he rests his cheek on childe's hair, muttering again to his ear: ]
You think I'd be so cruel?
[ zhongli japes and teases, but only to a certain extent. in contrast, his actions are carefully measured, clear in their intentions, solid as stone. (still, he doesn't explicitly say no. it's almost purposely provoking.)
he lifts his head to see the slope of childe's neck disappearing into his open collar. he leans down and noses past it; he presses a slow kiss to that pale skin, his tongue gently skimming the surface. he tastes the saltwater from earlier in the evening, when childe sat on the ship's banister and lifted his head, smiling at the breeze and sea-spray as if it welcomed him home.
zhongli runs his fingers upward into that nest of orange hair again, this time to simply hold childe against him. it isn't lost on him that this is the closest they've ever been. childe might feel the dull beating of his old heart against his.
he briefly keeps his mouth pressed to his neck, collecting his next words. when he finds them, he (forcibly) draws away to stand straight, his hands falling to childe's waist and the side of his neck. he tips his head forward and regards childe with his golden gaze, searching between his eyes. ]
We should go somewhere without interruptions. [ he traces his thumb over the edge of childe's jaw. it would be so easy to bring childe against the wall behind him and kiss him again, but he has more fortitude than that. he drops his hand down to grasp childe's forearm. ] Follow me.
LMKSJDGHKH both of us watching our tags spiral out of control
[Cruel? No, not really. But what's a mortal's idea of cruelty to an ancient martial god? It's all too easy for an Archon's reasoning to lack humanity. Childe's spent enough time around them to know that.
Truthfully, he doesn't think Zhongli would toy with him like this. Especially not now that Childe's shown his hand. (All that earlier awkwardness probably makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it, Zhongli?) But life has taught him not to assume. He'd been so convinced Zhongli was wrong about the meaning of these marks--that doubt hadn't come from nowhere, and it hasn't disappeared so easily.
...But he wants to trust. No matter how bad of an idea it is, he can't think of anything he wants more in this moment. And even if it is the wrong choice, it might just be worth it, purely for the taste of Zhongli's skin on his tongue.
It's so, so difficult to try and concentrate anyway. He always hates untangling plots and schemes, would much rather lose himself in the physicality of battle. There's no way he's going to bother trying to think too hard when Zhongli's mouth is hot and damp, sending electric sparks up his nerves that make his fingers flex. When he's heady with the power of drawing reactions from Zhongli, too, the potential to rile him up finally dangling within his reach.
It can't be a stupid decision if it's one you're making knowingly, right? Right.
He doesn't actually answer the question, which is, perhaps, an answer in and of itself. He doesn't fight Zhongli's hold, either, even though he doesn't relax into it--it's not wariness, just a keyed up restless energy. His eyes never have any light in them, but when he meets Zhongli's gaze, they're even darker than usual. He wants so badly to drag him back into another kiss, to catch Zhongli's thumb with his teeth, to push in every way he can until Zhongli snaps, just to see what happens when he does.
Instead, he lifts a hand to Zhongli's face, brushing his thumb along the sharp edge of his eyeliner. When he pulls away, there's a smudge of red on his glove.]
Yeah, [He says, instead of but consider: what if we stay right here and just kill anyone who opens the door] alright.
[He can't remember the last time he took someone to bed, but it doesn't matter. Zhongli ruined him for anyone else long before tonight.
...At least, that's what he's assuming is happening here. What happened to talking, Childe? No? Okay.
Because I think it's funny, I'm making the executive decision that there are people in the room of whatever door they open first. Zhongli, a somewhat rational person who cares about his reputation, would probably just say "excuse me" and try another room. Childe, on the other hand, solves this problem very quickly by throwing a Hydro dagger at them--it sails neatly past them and embeds itself in the wall directly above their heads. (There was no risk of it actually hitting them, but they don't need to know that.)
[ those darkened, half-lidded eyes might have alarmed someone else; even zhongli has a glint to his, albeit outshined by the rings of amber and yellow. however, he has watched those eyes more than any person in liyue, he presumes. with the range of their conversations seeming to span nigh-infinitely, he thought he knew their every hue.
this one is entirely new. the greed in them is nearly palpable, and it's focused entirely on him—a warning to anyone else who might approach. he still meets their gaze unflinchingly, lost in that blue as much as before, knowing that this look is his alone—hopefully.
he holds that gaze even as childe's takes his cheek into his palm and presses his thumb to the soft edge of his eye. he blinks only once as it swipes and smudges his makeup. he makes no move to correct it.
it's regrettable now, how he hadn't given in sooner to the idea that childe had feelings for him. he would have enjoyed provoking him throughout the evening to his chagrin until the pieces were finally put together. there's some solace in the idea that if the night continues on well enough, there may be future opportunities to make up for it. ]
[ right now, they'll probably be lucky if they're invited back onto the ocean's pearl anytime soon. if anything was going to be a mood killer, it would be zhongli knocking on countless doors until he found an empty room. somehow, this is worse.
in comes childe before zhongli's knuckles even reach the hardwood. zhongli catches the doorknob before it closes on him, just in time to see that hydro dagger shoot in the air and hit the wall of the room with a comically loud twang, scaring the shit out of its occupants. they stay where they are, crowded and stunned back against the wall, shaking when childe makes his command.
two of the women wail at different octaves. one man begs not to be killed, he has four daughters and a dog. zhongli lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. ]
Please excuse us.
[ he says while the terrified gaggle of people file out like their lives depend on it (and it does), like an apology will do anything at all. ningguang will be asking the northland bank for reparations for the new dent in the wall. the only bright side of this is that they probably paid no attention to the glowing mark on zhongli's neck or the telling smudged eyeliner.
once the fiasco ends, he releases his nose and comes inside. the door falls closed behind him. he looks at childe flatly. ]
[Listen. This is what they get for not locking the door.
Childe is not stupid, so he does lock the door. But then he grins at Zhongli, utterly unrepentant. The Hydro dagger vanishes with a splash, leaving nothing but the damaged wall behind.]
Then I'm sure our friends will have no trouble picking up where they left off. [CHILDE.]
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earlier that evening, zhongli hadn't been sure why he ordered a full carafe of wine. he wouldn't have finished it on his own.
maybe this is why he doesn't force childe away when he boxes him in and grasps his neck again. (surprising, considering how vulnerable that part is. anyone else might have met their end between two boulders or under a giant meteor.) zhongli's hand shoots out again to tightly grip childe's wrist—almost twisting, a little threatening.
he feels the press of those fingers and his pulse rising to meet it. he stares outward, beginning to ask what's happened before childe draws away. zhongli hesitates before letting him go. he seems just as confused as him.
his eyes dart to the hand reaching into his jacket, already predicting what it was searching for. was he expecting to cut the offending thing out of his neck? was he finding his pulse for a reason? no—if childe had wanted to sink his knife into him, he had plenty of opportunities to do so already. it didn't line up with all that had happened.
zhongli blinks and the knife hits the wall beside him. he sees the knife shining in his periphery, though his eyes are still settled on childe. he gestures, and zhongli turns to look.
he's observed childe's skillset from a distance before. in the early days of their odd friendship, he was a surreptitious audience to one of his battles against the traveler in the golden house. back then, the mark was enormous and ghostlike, possessing the center of the traveler's body and acting as a target for one of childe's most concentrated attacks. zhongli made sure to remember it.
this isn't like that. he presses his fingers to his skin and watches as it gives and stretches like a scar. its blue outline is almost white now, incandescent where childe had touched it, as if his vision suffused and revived it.
zhongli's heart drops into his stomach. he knows this mark—had something like it once before, thousands of years ago. in that flowering field, a symbol drew itself in gold on the inside of his forearm—a geometric representation of a blooming glaze lily, seen from a bird's eye view. guizhong gently explained to him what it was, smiling with amusement and showing him the shimmering geo symbol on the back of her hand. morax avoided her for a little while after that, sorting through his thoughts, but he couldn't stay away for long.
with guizhong's death, the symbol's faint light slowly eroded. when zhongli shed the dark skin of morax, it disappeared entirely along with it.
zhongli turns his head to childe, eyes wide and staring, fingers still on his neck. his mouth parts open and his stone heart revives, beating upwards into his throat. there shouldn't be two marks. yet here he is. here they are. ]
You...
[ he says quietly, trailing off. childe already said he hadn't done it. he wouldn't have done what he did if that was the case. but why here and now? ]
It's not possible.
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With a little more space back between them, and in the quiet of the hallway, it's a little bit easier to clear his head--he'd intended to apologize for causing a scene (hah), but Zhongli's reaction gives him pause.
(And oh, what he wouldn't give to see that wide-eyed look under different circumstances. How many times has he daydreamed about shocking Zhongli on the battlefield, of meeting that legendary strength and proving himself capable against it? He'd be--not jealous, of course, but maybe a little annoyed, if he wasn't so confused.)]
...It wasn't me. [Just--restating, since a lot has happened in the past few minutes. Zhongli's right; he wouldn't have reacted this way if he'd done this. It's undeniably his symbol, but it's a mark he uses exclusively for battle, not... whatever's happening here.] But judging from that expression, it wasn't you, either.
[So his initial assumption, lacking a basis though it was, is off-base, leaving him with nothing but the shock on Zhongli's face to work with. He isn't sensing anything Abyssal, so it can't be that...]
What's not possible?
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in the little window of skin where his shirt and jacket unbutton and part open, just above his waistband, zhongli catches sight of a faint glimmer of gold. (why is childe still wearing his suit like this? maybe he was hoping a fight onboard or something.) his eyes are trained on it, following the string of gold as it slowly curves on childe's skin.
he crosses his arms and sets a hand on his chin. finally, he looks back at childe. ]
Lift your shirt for a moment.
[ dead serious. ]
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Gods, he's stupid. No wonder Signora treats--treated him like a fool. It's so obvious, in hindsight. How could he not have realized? Even if tonight's the first time they've ever touched so gently or spoken so intimately, surely he knows himself better than this. There were a hundred opportunities to figure it out. He'd told himself it was just the novelty of finding a friend, that it was just easy to get caught up in Zhongli's easy acceptance of him, as though he were truly just another normal person.
Or maybe he had realized. Maybe he'd purposely chosen to look away as soon as he'd had even the slightest inclination that what he felt in Zhongli's presence ran deeper than the simple pleasure of friendship. That he wanted--anything, really. Because at the end of the day, his desires couldn't outweigh his mission, and that was that.
(Maybe that's why his feelings about Zhongli's deception are so much more complicated than they ever should've been. But that, at least, he'd already known.)
Zhongli speaks again, then, and it draws him out of his thoughts--but it takes a second for the words to register. And while it really doesn't take that much to put 2 and 2 together and figure out why Zhongli's asking, he can't help that his kneejerk reaction is just man blinking.gif]
Sorry?
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whether or not he can see it, zhongli can hear his blood beating in his ears. he walks forward to meet childe at arm's length, his eyes still trained on his hip. that shape almost glows brighter with his approach. ]
There.
[ he lowers his hand to that window of skin, just short of touching it. ]
I see something there. Show it to me.
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--Oh. Yes, that sure is something glowing on him too, isn't it. That makes more sense.
The very abrupt onslaught of ?!?!?!?! emotions subsides just a little, though there's no way he's not obviously blushing, which is almost more embarrassing than everything else that's happened so far. Gods. Is it too much to ask, he wonders, to leave him with a scrap of dignity when it comes to Zhongli? He should've just pretended that damn mark was his doing and freaked out in private.
But it's too late now, and honestly, he wants answers too. So. Here they are. He hadn't backed away when Zhongli moved closer, because of course he hadn't, but now he kind of wishes he had. He hasn't been shy in years, and he's a soldier to boot! Normally, there's nothing weird about showing skin. But noooo, of course now it has to feel different.
Still, he makes a valiant attempt at pretending; he clears his throat, but otherwise doesn't say anything, just does as he's told. Fortunately, he'd left his outer coat out on his chair on the deck, and with the way he tends to tailor his clothes, he doesn't have to get too spicy, so they're probably not going to get kicked off the boat for public indecency.
Some of the awkwardness fades from his body language as he bares the mark, too, his attention drawn back to the situation at hand. Hip. Whatever.]
Huh? [MORA??? WHY. Is this a Harbinger thing. Did Yelan do this somehow. WHAT IS GOING ON.]
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his concentration is broken the instant childe lifts the lower part of his shirt to reveal his hip. ignoring the spread of soft skin and muscle (or not), zhongli's gaze traces the emerging shape with some surprise, though not for the same reason. childe already knows where mora originated from. it nearly cements his idea of what's happened, but there's one last test, if childe doesn't resist or spurn him.
whether childe's ready for it or not, zhongli lightly presses his (still gloved) fingers over the mark. there's an instant reaction, the subtle swell of geo energy rushing to meet him—the same as childe experienced before. he's silent, watching, letting all of the pieces slide and lock into place.
it's all he can do to ignore the consequences of what he's doing. right now, this is too important to be distracted by something like that.
all of those rising feelings throughout the evening. that unusual comfort when childe was by his side, their japes and stories, the letters from far beyond zhongli's reach still finding him across the sea. the steadfast belief that even if childe was reckless and always teetered at the edge of life and death, he would survive. he would always return to liyue, and zhongli would always have a seat waiting for him. everything made sense.
he swallows thickly. quietly: ]
It's as I thought.
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At least until the mark reacts.
It's because he's desensitized that the rush of elemental sensation hits so hard. He's intimately familiar with the rush of hydro, the jolt of electro--those sensations have always run deeper than the physical, and he's trained relentlessly to master them. This feels completely different, and if it weren't so mild on his end, it really would have set him off-kilter.
His muscles jump under Zhongli's touch, though whether he's responding to Zhongli or to the mark is anyone's guess. He takes a steadying breath, keeping his grip tight on his shirt so that he doesn't do something stupid, like grab Zhongli's hand or summon a dagger. Or, worst of all, lean closer.
Zhongli's voice is so quiet, so serious. Childe can't help but match him.]
What is?
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he hadn't taken in how close they were until now. childe's cheeks are still flushed red, and zhongli can feel his warm breath on his chin. it's intoxicating, knowing him for his mischievousness and over-confidence, addling him with the merest glance and the smallest touch. does childe even know himself yet? what kinds of signals he's been giving out? zhongli's heart is drawn towards him again, willing him to lean forward and catch childe by the back of his hair and—
zhongli really is in love. there's relief in finally calling it what it is.
talking first. his fingertips stay pressed to the mark, not willing to draw them away just yet. his eyes flicker away as he conjures up the memory of his conversation with guizhong. ]
There's an old story, lost to history now. Thousands of years ago, a young empress fell for a member of her court. He was an assassin, and he would often be disguised and dispatched to the the other regions of Teyvat. Still, she found that he loved her too, and they promised themselves to each other. Before he left for a particularly long assignment, they drew azure cranes, the woman's favorite bird, into their skin using red ink. They promised that no matter what disguise he wore or how time would change them, they would use these symbols to find each other again.
Years after the assassin was dispatched, the empress was informed of his death. Heartbroken, she was taken in by one of the other kings among her, and he made her his wife.
The woman lived this way into her old age. After her husband passed, she relinquished her empire to her eldest son and settled into retirement. One day, a young orphan wandered to her home, and he bore the mark that she and her lover had drawn long ago. The child was not the man she waited for, but she took him in regardless and raised him as her son. She died many years later, at peace now that the azure cranes found each other once again. Her adopted son became a great and well-loved king, and he made the azure crane a part of his family crest.
[ long as fuck, but aren't genshin convos like that sometimes?? and he's a grandpa who loves stories, so. anyway. ]
This story made sense of the marks that appeared on pairs of humans long ago. They would identify the person they were fated to meet. When they did so, they would play a substantial role in each other's lives, romantic or otherwise. ...You may be more familiar with the term 'soulmates.' This is very much like that.
However, there was an abysmally small number of these instances in Liyue. Many of these pairs perished in the Archon War. I expected this phenomenon to have been lost entirely.
[ zhongli clears his throat, and his eyes fall back down to childe's hip. if childe doesn't resist, his fingers slide over his hip. his thumb presses gently to the mark, feeling that resonance again. soulmates. ]
...I've had a mark like this once before. It vanished when Guizhong passed.
[ he looks at childe again, looking for any dissent or disappointment or resistance. ]
I've never heard of it appearing twice in one lifetime, but Archons are far different from mortals.
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(It'd be easier to concentrate if he pulled away. He doesn't.)
But he likes the way Zhongli tells stories, too. Childe had realized, long after they'd parted, that many of the things Zhongli had framed as legends and folk tales were things he'd been present to witness personally. It's been a little tricky to adjust his perceptions, especially since Zhongli's steadfastly continued to distance himself, or so he's heard. When Zhongli says things like "it's simply a story that was once popular", it's very easy to believe him.
Except--this time, Zhongli doesn't beat around the bush. He states, in no uncertain terms, that he knows what's going on. That this is something he's not only seen, but personally experienced. Suddenly, everything he'd just listened to slips sideways, and the story takes on a whole new light.
There's no disappointment on his face, no resistance. Just genuine confusion in those lightless blue eyes as he searches Zhongli's face, tilting his head slightly. But his attention stutters at the brush of Zhongli's thumb, sending his thoughts scattering like startled crystalflies.
It makes it easy for a thoughtless reply to slip out, unintentional.]
That can't be right.
[...
Hastily, he lifts a free hand, but he drops it again when he realizes there's not really enough space for it between them. (And that's, hm. Yeah. Let's not focus on that.)]
Wait, I mean--I don't think you're lying. It's just, that doesn't make any sense.
[He's never known Zhongli to be mistaken about important before (save, perhaps, his choice of accomplices). But maybe there's a first time for everything? Granted, Childe's own confidence is totally unfounded, but what Zhongli's saying is... impossible, surely.]
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for now, this takes precedent over the gay panic. ]
Which part of it didn't seem to make sense? I can explain it to you again in simpler terms.
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No, no, your explanation was clear. [He had been paying attention, up until the steady thrum of geo energy had drawn his attention away. He's a professional. He can concentrate on important things. He is definitely not still halfway-distracted by their proximity.
The whole concept of "soulmates are real, actually" is... something he'll stop and think about in a minute, maybe. For now, he's way too focused on the much more important, much more ridiculous conclusion Zhongli seems to have drawn.] But that can't be what's happening to us, right? Think about it. Me? I'm not even from Liyue. [What does that have to do with anything, Childe.] Not to mention, you know, everything else.
[He's a Harbinger? Mostly human? The part that isn't human came directly from the Abyss? The list goes on and on. There's ten thousand other reasons that there's no way he, of all people, could be... anything more than a blip in Rex Lapis's long, long life, let alone something like a soulmate. Absurd.
Self-deprecating, or self-aware? A little of both, maybe, though Childe certainly thinks of it as the latter. He knows very well who he is, and he isn't ashamed of it; confidence is not something he lacks, and that's genuine. But generally, he doesn't expect other people to tolerate him unless they have to. He could easily count the number of people he'd consider true friends on one hand.
That's part of what had drawn him to Zhongli in the first place, after all. People don't just like him, not beyond a surface level. Probably, that should've been his first sign that something was off.
Zhongli being his soulmate, well, that's... a lot less ridiculous. But if he's lucky, Zhongli won't notice that he hadn't dismissed that part.]
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To my knowledge, the anomaly wasn't specific to Liyue. Your country of origin wouldn't be of any significance.
[ 'everything else' could be a multitude of things, none of which (to his knowledge) would be obstructive to what's happened. what use was there in considering the circumstances? that childe was a harbinger, or partially borne out of the abyss, or bloodthirsty, or reckless? the marks would exist regardless, signifying their connection above all others and above all else.
more than that, zhongli understood his own feelings. zhongli had polished his patience over thousands of years, yet he still felt childe's absence once he left for inazuma. he considered the reality of childe's death multiple times, each time stifling that rising feeling of grief once reserved for old comrades and partners.
if childe were to verbalize it, zhongli would argue that a blip is long enough for the earth's plates to slip along a fault and for cities to be leveled in the aftermath. childe was bright and blazing, painting his new life in vivid colors—a brushfire razing a dying field, laying the seeds for spring. liyue's opinion of the fatui (or of childe) was inconsequential. ]
You find it hard to believe that you might be the other half of this.
[ he lowers his eyes back to the shining symbol against childe's hip. the energy chases the tip of his thumb, gathering in a golden swarm. he resists pressing into it again just to see how childe reacts. ]
If I'm understanding you correctly, I don't share your concerns. I've given it thorough consideration.
[ zhongli is dropping hints that he likes childe. ]
You think that we're ill-fit for one another?
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??
????
????????]
You don't? [Share his concerns? What????] You've given it--what? Right now?
[Sorry Zhongli, maybe he'll answer the question in a minute, he's just busy being a giant question mark at the moment.]
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zhongli furrows his brow, but he's otherwise unmoved. he wasn't unclear before, but maybe he is now...?? ]
Yes. I've considered it since I first saw the mark on my neck.
[ which arguably is not so long ago but, but in his mind, there wasn't much to question about it (something he can elaborate on if need be). childe obviously feels differently. ]
Is something wrong?
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I... [Well. Hm. What's his priority, here? Logically, it should be putting this whole conversation to the side and getting to the bottom of what's really going on right now. But...
His gaze drifts back to the mark one more time. Its glow has faded some, presumably without his touch to bolster it; he's not entirely sure what he'll do if he glances down at his own mark right at this moment, so he doesn't.]
Not--wrong, exactly, I just...
[It would make sense to redirect Zhongli's focus and put this aside. But Childe's always been a little too weak to the whims of those he cares about, whether it's for the best or not.
I'm just not sure you realize what you're saying, is how that statement rests on his tongue, unfinished. But he'd doubted Zhongli's claims of inexperience earlier, which means he has to believe that Zhongli understands exactly what he's talking about now. And even if he were to change his mind, his instincts are telling him that it's... unlikely, that Zhongli would be so confident if he were misguided. He's missed plenty of steps in his attempts at being mortal, sure, but this is apparently part of his very own history. And Childe's never known him to be careless with his memories.
Slowly, he lifts a hand. He reaches out, and if Zhongli doesn't stop him, he'll let his hand splay loosely across Zhongli's throat. With his thumb pressed against the center of the Riptide mark, the rest of his fingers rest, loose and relaxed but no less deadly, on the other side of his neck.
Just to see what Zhongli will do, if he lets Childe get that far in the first place.]
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zhongli is silent, watching him. he swallows once before childe's fingers find his skin, his parted lips coming closed. he raises his chin, and again, he feels that small current under his skin, swirling upward to meet where childe's thumb presses to his pulse. it's less startling now than before, but it's a reminder nonetheless: zhongli is as much a part of this as childe, just as subject to his weaknesses.
he doesn't reach to peel childe's fingers from around his neck. without taking his eyes from childe's, he tips his head away from where his thumb presses down, baring his neck as if it's a show of complacency. it dares him to squeeze at his throat, crush his windpipe, sever a vein—and knows that he would never do such a thing. not to him. not like this, anyway.
zhongli reaffirms his hold over childe's hip, as if holding him steady. he gives into his impulse and gently presses his thumb to childe's mark, feeling the elemental energy rushing to meet him. it's almost reassuring, though zhongli hardly needs any more of that.
with his free hand, zhongli smooths his fingers over childe's jaw and over the edge of his cheek, his fingertips combed into that mess of orange hair. he should have taken off his gloves while he still could.
despite the dangerous circumstances, the way he looks at childe could almost be described as tender. ]
Childe. [ he hesitates a moment, then corrects himself: ] Tartaglia. I've waited for you long enough.
[ zhongli's fingers sink into childe's hair, and, if childe allows, zhongli draws him forward to meet his kiss. ]
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It wasn't always this way. Once, he'd been quiet, shy, a boy of daydreams and fairytales. But that boy had died ten years ago, at the bottom of a cavern lit by sickly purple runes and artificial starlight. He tries, around his siblings, to cobble together enough shreds of "Ajax" to shield them from reality, but in truth, that hasn't been him for a decade. Sometimes, he doubts it was ever truly him in the first place--that the potential for Tartaglia always lurked deep in his heart, and that the Abyss simply broke apart the shell that encased it.
Whatever the case, the fact remains that here and now, Zhongli has chosen to communicate with him in the language he speaks best. He does more than indulge Childe's audacity--he bares his throat, offering a level of vulnerability, of trust, that Childe hasn't done anything to deserve.
It would be so easy to tighten his grip. To tap into his Vision, drive five small, watery blades into delicate skin, to stain his white gloves red. It almost certainly wouldn't kill Zhongli, and Childe would never attack him like this anyway, even if his petulant grudge had been truly hateful--but he could.
It's enough to make his own breath catch in his throat. Enough to rip through all the words they've exchanged, freeing him from his Harbinger-honed reflex of searching for deception, hidden traps or misdirections. It's even enough to assuage his other, more personal doubts... almost. He's not naive enough, not able to trust enough, to let one meaningful gesture settle every bit of conflict that's been roused in his heart. But it does mean that he doesn't jerk away when Zhongli tightens his hold on him, or when he reaches out. It means he holds perfectly still, his eyes finally moving back up to search Zhongli's, meeting that tenderness with the sort of wonder that comes with pondering the unbelievable, like the vastness of the universe or the depths of the sea. The affection of a god.
In this moment, he looks very mortal.
The sound of his name--and it is his name now, has been for years--sends a shudder pulsing through him, an involuntary and unfamiliar thing. And to think he'd been so confident about how this evening would go. Maybe it'll be funny in the future.
He doesn't miss the fact that Zhongli draws him in, instead of moving himself forward--but neither does it escape him that Zhongli's using a light touch. The opening strike is Zhongli's, but Childe could block it, if he wanted to.
He doesn't want to. He's still unsure about a lot of things, but not about that.
Whether or not Zhongli's kiss is soft, Childe meets him with demanding fervor. His hand drops from Zhongli's neck to grab his collar instead, the other moving to grip Zhongli's arm, as if to stop him from going too far, should he pull away. It is as much a threat as it is a confession, the very embodiment of the way Childe behaves around him. A bold grab for Zhongli's attention, for--everything Zhongli has to give, really.
It drives him crazy to know that Zhongli won't meet him at full strength in battle. This is a kiss that says I won't let you hold back here, too.
He is so, so bad about wanting things. It's only going to get worse, if he keeps being allowed to have them.
Also, they are definitely going to get caught making out in this hallway.]
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since his abdication, zhongli has never missed the awe that came with being the geo archon. the duties he performed for the good of the human race were just that: the obligation allotted to the one with the most power. he did only what he felt he should do as their sole protector. the reverence of his people was a tool for keeping the peace, but the awe and wonder—morax neither wanted it nor sought it out. he would humbly accept his peoples' gratitude yet turn away from the statues and lacquered screens made in his likeness. he was a guardian, a general—not a heavenly being to be worshipped.
when childe stares up at him with those shining and awestruck eyes, infinitely blue, that streak of humility is broken. he wants that wondrous look, over and over.
whatever the intent of zhongli's kiss had been, it's lost in the way that childe surges forward and crushes his mouth against his. it's hard enough to ache, teeth pushing against teeth, as if the bindings that held him finally came loose. he tastes dessert, the wine, the faint hint of water. he feels childe's intent in how the crease of his collar pushes and burns into his skin, the sear of childe's fingers tightly pulling his arm. all of this, it says, is only for him. zhongli is briefly pulled in under the great wave of him, ensnaring and hungry.
then zhongli rises to meet him, as if childe had broken past some unspoken boundary. his desire spills open like blood from a freshly sliced wound. he roughly cranes his neck forward, his mouth opening and closing as he draws a sharp breath in. the light sway of the ship, its passengers, and the moon outside are barely thoughts in his mind. all of everything is tartaglia, lithe and warm against him, forcing his attention as if he could think of anyone else.
his fingers twist in the hair at the back of childe's head, holding him in place. the hand at his hip comes away, and instead he hooks his arm around his waist, splaying his palm against the curve of his back, bent like the string of a bow.
his mouth opens again, his breath hot, and he runs the crowns of his teeth over childe's lower lip. he yanks his hair downward to bare his throat, and then he closes his mouth over the base of it, tempted to bite and suck but ultimately deciding against it.
his lips drag on his skin as he leans over childe's shoulder. he murmurs to his ear in a low rumble: ]
Not here.
[ like he's not part of the problem. all of this to say: however much childe wanted him, zhongli felt the same in equal measure, if not more. there are doors in this hallway. one of them has to be open.
somewhere on the deck outside, ningguang unknowingly loses a bet. it's what she gets for assuming that zhongli is a better judge of character. ]
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But there's truly such a difference between knowing and experiencing. Childe's well aware of that, of course, just like any warrior worth their salt would be. But when it comes to intimacy--well, no. When it comes to Zhongli, specifically, it's different.
Long before he'd known Zhongli's truly identity, he'd guessed at the strength hidden behind Zhongli's scholarly demeanor. Childe might be easy to manipulate, but he's not stupid; Zhongli could act as gentlemanly as he wanted, but Childe had recognized the type of warrior that lay underneath. Childe likes to burst onto the battlefield like a flash flood. Zhongli is the type to stroll in like the battle's already been won.
If he'd had to guess how Zhongli would kiss (which is not something he's ever wondered about, definitely, but if it were), he would've wagered it would be the same. Steady, grounding, a solid anchor in a storm. Thousands of years of patience and confidence, unyielding to even the fiercest onslaught.
Never would he have thought that Zhongli would respond to him in kind. It would be overwhelming if it weren't so utterly delightful, and Childe thrives under the attention. He throws himself against the sharp edges of desire all the time, with every fierce battle he seeks. Like hell he'll shy away from it now.
He doesn't know how to handle the idea of Zhongli treating him gently, like one of his countless hoarded treasures. He might very well fall apart.
Not that he isn't halfway there anyway, with the cut of Zhongli's teeth, the strength in his grip. He tenses for a moment when Zhongli pulls his hair, tempted to resist just for the sake of being defiant--but it seems stupid to be a brat about something he wants, and besides, Zhongli's mouth is very persuasive. Zhongli pulls away before he has the chance to lean into it, though, and he shudders again at the tone of Zhongli's voice before he even has a chance to process his words.
There's a myriad of half-baked sentiments on his tongue as he tries to catch his breath, heart racing. Since when has this been an option? and "inexperienced" my ass you damn liar and no really, did you literally just decide this five minutes ago or what--but all he actually manages to get out is a string of Snezhnayan curses, which he cuts off on his own by ducking his head, sinking his teeth into the mark on Zhongli's neck.
Zhongli resisted temptation. Childe has no such reservations.]
If you're fucking with me, [he says finally, rough and breathless against Zhongli's skin,] I'll never forgive you.
[It's more vulnerability than he'd like to show--more than he'd even realized he had left, honestly. But this is the only way he knows how to show trust: by revealing, little by little, how guarded and wary he actually is.]
you can assume zhongli takes him to another room idk this is too long and i rewrote it a bunch
pain bursts where childe sinks his teeth into his skin. zhongli shuts his eyes and breathes in as he withstands the bolt of pain in his neck. it isn't overwhelming at all, only a small shock of something he hasn't felt in an age.
the moment childe draws away, zhongli's blood rushes to meet the red ring on his neck. childe will see how brightly the riptide sigil glows beneath his lips; it shimmers where he shapes his words, quietly willing for him to return. if there was any hope that they would return to the event outside, that bite has snuffed it out completely.
childe isn't a real threat. zhongli has felt unimaginable pain, and each of childe's attempts to grab his attention is a grain of sand on an ocean floor. but childe tries anyway, slipping challenges into casual conversation, smiling at him with shining canines, waiting for the moment when the late two archon finally relents. even now, he kisses him hard enough to hurt, bites his neck and snarls at him, scrabbles for all he has to give.
this ferocity, too, is something that zhongli loves. it's a twisted want borne out of an insatiable and admirable drive for strength, even if teetered on the edge of lunacy. it's want all the same.
zhongli's desire flares and flickers with childe's breathless mutter. the bite behind his words is lost in their meaning: that childe's hidden hopes were coming to fruition, and he wants to trust that zhongli wouldn't stop.
he affects childe that deeply. he almost feels selfish for indulging in that truth.
he rests his cheek on childe's hair, muttering again to his ear: ]
You think I'd be so cruel?
[ zhongli japes and teases, but only to a certain extent. in contrast, his actions are carefully measured, clear in their intentions, solid as stone. (still, he doesn't explicitly say no. it's almost purposely provoking.)
he lifts his head to see the slope of childe's neck disappearing into his open collar. he leans down and noses past it; he presses a slow kiss to that pale skin, his tongue gently skimming the surface. he tastes the saltwater from earlier in the evening, when childe sat on the ship's banister and lifted his head, smiling at the breeze and sea-spray as if it welcomed him home.
zhongli runs his fingers upward into that nest of orange hair again, this time to simply hold childe against him. it isn't lost on him that this is the closest they've ever been. childe might feel the dull beating of his old heart against his.
he briefly keeps his mouth pressed to his neck, collecting his next words. when he finds them, he (forcibly) draws away to stand straight, his hands falling to childe's waist and the side of his neck. he tips his head forward and regards childe with his golden gaze, searching between his eyes. ]
We should go somewhere without interruptions. [ he traces his thumb over the edge of childe's jaw. it would be so easy to bring childe against the wall behind him and kiss him again, but he has more fortitude than that. he drops his hand down to grasp childe's forearm. ] Follow me.
LMKSJDGHKH both of us watching our tags spiral out of control
Truthfully, he doesn't think Zhongli would toy with him like this. Especially not now that Childe's shown his hand. (All that earlier awkwardness probably makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it, Zhongli?) But life has taught him not to assume. He'd been so convinced Zhongli was wrong about the meaning of these marks--that doubt hadn't come from nowhere, and it hasn't disappeared so easily.
...But he wants to trust. No matter how bad of an idea it is, he can't think of anything he wants more in this moment. And even if it is the wrong choice, it might just be worth it, purely for the taste of Zhongli's skin on his tongue.
It's so, so difficult to try and concentrate anyway. He always hates untangling plots and schemes, would much rather lose himself in the physicality of battle. There's no way he's going to bother trying to think too hard when Zhongli's mouth is hot and damp, sending electric sparks up his nerves that make his fingers flex. When he's heady with the power of drawing reactions from Zhongli, too, the potential to rile him up finally dangling within his reach.
It can't be a stupid decision if it's one you're making knowingly, right? Right.
He doesn't actually answer the question, which is, perhaps, an answer in and of itself. He doesn't fight Zhongli's hold, either, even though he doesn't relax into it--it's not wariness, just a keyed up restless energy. His eyes never have any light in them, but when he meets Zhongli's gaze, they're even darker than usual. He wants so badly to drag him back into another kiss, to catch Zhongli's thumb with his teeth, to push in every way he can until Zhongli snaps, just to see what happens when he does.
Instead, he lifts a hand to Zhongli's face, brushing his thumb along the sharp edge of his eyeliner. When he pulls away, there's a smudge of red on his glove.]
Yeah, [He says, instead of but consider: what if we stay right here and just kill anyone who opens the door] alright.
[He can't remember the last time he took someone to bed, but it doesn't matter. Zhongli ruined him for anyone else long before tonight.
...At least, that's what he's assuming is happening here. What happened to talking, Childe? No? Okay.
Because I think it's funny, I'm making the executive decision that there are people in the room of whatever door they open first. Zhongli, a somewhat rational person who cares about his reputation, would probably just say "excuse me" and try another room. Childe, on the other hand, solves this problem very quickly by throwing a Hydro dagger at them--it sails neatly past them and embeds itself in the wall directly above their heads. (There was no risk of it actually hitting them, but they don't need to know that.)
In his best Harbinger voice, cold and deadly:]
Out.
1/2 HONESTLY
this one is entirely new. the greed in them is nearly palpable, and it's focused entirely on him—a warning to anyone else who might approach. he still meets their gaze unflinchingly, lost in that blue as much as before, knowing that this look is his alone—hopefully.
he holds that gaze even as childe's takes his cheek into his palm and presses his thumb to the soft edge of his eye. he blinks only once as it swipes and smudges his makeup. he makes no move to correct it.
it's regrettable now, how he hadn't given in sooner to the idea that childe had feelings for him. he would have enjoyed provoking him throughout the evening to his chagrin until the pieces were finally put together. there's some solace in the idea that if the night continues on well enough, there may be future opportunities to make up for it. ]
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in comes childe before zhongli's knuckles even reach the hardwood. zhongli catches the doorknob before it closes on him, just in time to see that hydro dagger shoot in the air and hit the wall of the room with a comically loud twang, scaring the shit out of its occupants. they stay where they are, crowded and stunned back against the wall, shaking when childe makes his command.
two of the women wail at different octaves. one man begs not to be killed, he has four daughters and a dog. zhongli lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. ]
Please excuse us.
[ he says while the terrified gaggle of people file out like their lives depend on it (and it does), like an apology will do anything at all. ningguang will be asking the northland bank for reparations for the new dent in the wall. the only bright side of this is that they probably paid no attention to the glowing mark on zhongli's neck or the telling smudged eyeliner.
once the fiasco ends, he releases his nose and comes inside. the door falls closed behind him. he looks at childe flatly. ]
There are plenty of other rooms.
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Childe is not stupid, so he does lock the door. But then he grins at Zhongli, utterly unrepentant. The Hydro dagger vanishes with a splash, leaving nothing but the damaged wall behind.]
Then I'm sure our friends will have no trouble picking up where they left off. [CHILDE.]
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this is so long excuse me...
LMFSDKJHG in this house we trade novels
YEAH.... YUP
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the way my paid ran out and I'm left with like 90% chibi icons lmfdksjghjkhsg
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nice fall out boy reference
JHDFKJSHGK I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE
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I would LOVE if dw would stop giving me errors every time I comment
I KNOW FR i'm back to writing in my notes app
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