Days bleed into weeks and Childe almost forgets that he was recently single.

Dating Zhongli feels natural, like sunshine on his face, or the competitive streak that burns in his veins when presented with a challenge. Zhongli is effortless in the way he leans into it, peppering Childe with questions but never asking too much. Soft, gentle hands across his shoulders and the weight of his palm against the small of Childe's back.

And the sex—heated touches and copious amounts of oral sex and hand jobs that leave Childe wrung out and dry in his bed.With anyone else, he'd complain about the lack of main action but Zhongli makes basic fucking foreplay seem utterly divine in nature.

Childe is satisfied. Beyond satisfied, practically hanging in the clouds waiting for more, and Zhongli is ready to give and give and give—

"Are you planning on working today?" A simple question complimented by an adorable crease in Zhongli's brow.

"I—uh—yeah?"

Zhongli frowns. "I've told you—"

"I know what you've told me," cuts in Childe, giving him no room to budge. There is no need to work, Childe. I can pay, says Zhongli every day like clockwork. He stays over more often than not and when Childe wakes in the morning, Zhongli will be doing some innocuous chore and casually remind Childe that he's richer than the gods themselves. "The answer's the same."

Childe always refuses, adamant about paying his own bills. Stubborn, he knows. Obstinate, he'll admit, but Zhongli never puts up much fight, only sighs softly in return, his gaze fond.

Like now. Zhongli watches him with a star-eyed, dopey gaze, soapy suds dripping from the dish brush as he scrubs their breakfast plates. Childe nearly gives in—nearly. But he has principles. He left that life behind, for better or worse, and he'll lie in the bed he's made.

Even if Zhongli warms it so nicely.

"I don't want to waste the new bike—"

"It was my fault it got stolen." It wasn't, which Childe reminds him for what feels like the thousandth time. And really, Childe wouldn't have taken the bike either but Zhongli had already bought and carried it up the flight of stairs before he could say no. Zhongli huffs and then amends with, "I kept you too long."

"I stayed as long as I always do and you know that." Childe gives him a playful punch against the shoulder. "I'll see you around lunch, yeah?"

Zhongli smiles then, tipping forward to press a sweet kiss to Childe's mouth. Childe grins, fingers curling into the soft material of Zhongli's shirt, lingering as he captures his mouth once more. A lingering thing they both crave.

Childe leaves his apartment feeling blessed that Zhongli no longer has to bribe him with tips just to share some time.

One particular day, Zhongli seems frazzled. Pulled every which-way—up and down, side to side. Childe sits at his desk during the late afternoon, watching Zhongli talk to secretaries and coworkers, directing the flow of paperwork. Eventually, Zhongli pauses long enough to drag a hand through his hair and say, "My apologies, Childe. I'm just—well, you know that I'm busy. There's just a lot riding on this merger and the more that I handle now, the easier it'll be later."

It's a lie, but Zhongli doesn't know that Childe knows this song and dance better than the back of his hand.

"Why don't you sit down?"

"Childe—"

"A couple of minutes of rest won't kill you but the stress just might."

Zhongli sighs and mashes his lips together in a frown but then sits at Childe's insistence. "You act as though I'm old enough to keel over."

"I knew a guy who dropped dead from a heart attack at thirty. No joke." Zhongli isn't old, he's barely gray around the temples but Childe is serious about him working himself too hard. He reaches out to grab Zhongli's warm wrist, worrying at the slip of skin with his thumb. "Let me fuss over you."

"I—" Zhongli's voice falls quiet, his mouth curving into a subtle grin. "Yes, alright."

"What happens with the merger, anyway? What do you get out of it? What's the cut?" Zhongli blinks, surprised by Childe's interest. "Nah, don't give me that look—business major, remember? I have a degree in this so I'm allowed to be curious."

"Retirement," says Zhongli simply.

"What?"

"You asked what my cut is—the draw is that I get to retire."

Childe's mouth falls open. "So that article in Liyuen Men about you turning it in before forty—"

"Would be true, yes. That was the entire point of that article." Zhongli's gaze turns amused. "Did you only stare at the pictures?"

Childe clears his throat. "You were wearing Arlebina so of course, I stared. A lot. Mostly late at night while lonely in bed."

"Childe." It's barely an admonishment. More like a tease. Zhongli clasps his fingers and leans back in his desk chair. "I am in a good position to hand over the reins, so I see no reason not to do so. Not to mention I'm tired. Exhausted. I've spent most of my adult life working and I often feel as though I've...missed out."

"I mean, there isn't much to miss out on. The world is shit."

"That isn't..." Zhongli gives him a thoughtful look. "Take yourself, for example."

Childe blinks. "Um, me?"

"We've established our mutual pining over the years—but why did I wait until now? I never had the time to commit to something even if I wanted it, and I didn't want you to feel stuck in a relationship that lacks—"

"Zhongli, you aren't lacking, even now. You—"

"Ah, but that is the thing, Childe—I've been forcing myself to step back a little. I've been delegating my usual tasks to others so they can get into the habit of taking over these roles. This is a fraction of the hours I used to pull."

Childe isn't surprised. He knows exactly what Zhongli is talking about, and he knows the fear of trying to commit to another person when you have to live and breathe your work. Childe has a sudden thought of inspiration. "Hey, think you can take the afternoon off?"

Zhongli's brow raises. "For?"

"Let's go grab a late lunch—don't give me that look. I know you haven't eaten." Childe leans forward and brushes his fingers across Zhongli's forearm. "A date, just a quick one. Let's go to Wanmin."

Childe expects Zhongli to hesitate, only, he doesn't. His yes comes rather immediately.

"Well, what do we have here?" Xiangling wears a curved smirk that promises mischief, her gaze knocking back and forth between the two of them.

"Ah, Miss Xiangling," greets Zhongli pleasantly.

"The usual to drink, I suppose?" she asks, already writing his tea order onto her notepad. Her eyes slide to Childe, her brow pinched. "It's too early for booze—"

"Water is fine," cuts in Childe. A pause as he rubs his neck. "We, uh—"

"So you worked it out, then? You're..." She stops, thinking of a proper descriptor. "The sordid nature of your trysts are a little less—"

Childe slaps a hand against her mouth. "That's enough of that! Go on, you have other tables." Xiangling huffs, but it's good-natured. She walks off with a dramatic roll of her eyes. When Childe looks at Zhongli, he watches back, amused.

"Sordid nature?"

"I, uh—look, she's a friend, and before we figured out what we were..."

"It is fine to seek out advice, Childe, but I'd prefer if you don't flaunt our more personal activities, no matter how close the friend is."

Childe groans, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his face, drawing the string tight. "I didn't mean to! It just came out because I was so annoyed and I just. Agh."

Zhongli chuckles softly, resting his chin against his palm. "Actually, Childe, there was a favor that I wished to ask of you." He pauses long enough for Xiangling to drop a glass of water and a teapot onto the table. "The final plans for the merger have been accepted, so things are moving smoothly in that regard. Archon Industries is planning on announcing it and my retirement at an upcoming conference and dinner. I would greatly appreciate it if you'd be my date."

Childe's mouth goes dry at the thought of being paraded around on Zhongli's arm publicly for the world to see. Zhongli would look so handsome dressed up to the nines, click and well-preened, something that has ruled Childe's most desperate dreams.

But—

"Are...you sure?"

Zhongli looks almost offended in response. "Do you think I ask this of you lightly?"

"No, I—those sorts of events are big, right? Wouldn't it be kind of a statement to have me there?"

"Are we not together?"

They are exclusive, but it's the first time that Zhongli has said it outright. Childe's tongue feels thick and his face burns bright red. "Yes," he blurts, then pauses to take a shuddering breath. "I mean, yes, you've just never..."

Zhongli scoots his chair around the corner of the table until they're sitting side-by-side, knees touching. He reaches out to brush Childe's bangs behind an ear. "I want to indulge," says Zhongli, his expression kind and his eyes lit up, glowing golden in the restaurant lights. "Other dates for such functions have always been business arrangements meant for a show of power, but this time, I get to call the shots."

Part of Childe hesitates. He's done this song and dance before around CEOs and Marketing Execs, playing into their hands to secure funding for the family empire. The thought of it makes him sick, but with Zhongli there, it might be different.

Besides, it's Liyue. The atmosphere is different from the bitter-cold deals they run in Snezhnaya.

"Yeah, okay," says Childe finally.

Zhongli's smile is wide and genuine. He rubs his thumb over the bone of Childe's wrist, sighing in contentment. "Thank you," he says, as though Childe is the one doing him a favor. A pause. Their knees still touch, warmth seeping through the fabric. Zhongli hesitates before saying, "I suppose that you'll need a suit. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

Childe doesn't know whether to dread that or not.

He dreads it.

Childe forgot how terrible an experience being fitted for a suit can be. Tailors, overzealous in their measurements, hanging around a little too close to his ass and dick. Their hands wander about in very unsexy ways, tugging his clothing to and fro. The man tuts at his leg measurement, which makes Childe frown.

"What?"

"Long, so long." The tailor's eyes flicker to Zhongli. "It'll be an extra charge for an additional half-meter of fabric. He's similar to your height, but his legs are longer, so—"

"That is of no consequence. Whatever is necessary. I only wish for him to look the best."

"Right, so then colors. You like your classic navy, but considering his hair—" The tailor stands, righting himself, thinking. "I would suggest a bright blue or even a gray. Red accents—a pocket square. Neutral tie. Hm, yes, yes. I'll be back with samples."

The tailor slips away, leaving them alone. Zhongli leans close, to cup Childe's cheek. "You seem... jittery."

"I just—" How does Childe explain he isn't new to this? Delivery Boy Childe would never have been fitted for something so fine and fancy. "Overwhelming, I guess," he settles on. It isn't a lie.

Zhongli gives him a sympathetic look, petting his hair and kissing his forehead sweetly. "I'm here," he says quietly. "I'll guide you through it."

When the tailor returns with a thick book of fabric swatches, they pick out one together; a deep charcoal gray with a shiny sateen finish that shifts under the light. A deep red pocket square the color of blood. The tailor sniffs and a second appointment is set, one that Childe already finds himself dreading.

The second time around Childe finds himself standing in a dressing room, the tailor uncomfortably close to his junk as he tugs on a trouser leg. "Hm," the man murmurs, testing the length. "I could let this out more—" He looks up. "How thick is the heel of your shoe sole?"

"Half-inch," replies Childe automatically. Without thinking. "Wingtips." Zhongli's brow creases and Childe catches himself. "Er—they're the only nice pair of shoes I own." Good save.

The tailor taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll drop this another half-inch then." He moves about again with that damned tailor's tape and Childe tenses visibly.

"Baizhu," says Zhongli, "might you let us have a moment?"

The tailor shoots him a mildly annoyed look. "Mr. Zhongli," he starts smoothly, "I have other clients—"

"Then see to them for a bit. I'm willing to compensate for the lost time."

Baizhu's face twists like a sour lemon but he stands nonetheless. "Only because you're one of my most reliable clients. Fifteen minutes." A pause. "And no funny business. I'll know." The dressing room door slams behind him, shaking slightly.

"Childe," says Zhongli, crossing the space. "You seem nervous?"

Words don't come easily. The suit fitting, the stuffiness in the dressing room, the tailor-talk—it all reminds Childe of the things he's run away from. Not nervousness. Annoyance. Exhaustion. A lot of things that Childe doesn't want to think about. Zhongli's warm hand against his wrist pulls him from his thoughts.

"It's nothing like that. Just—"

The last time he was fitted for a suit he looked in the mirror and decided that he'd leave.

Zhongli hums softly, moving to squeeze his tense shoulders with a hand. The other one dips low to curve around his waist. Grazes his hip, brushing over the bone there. And then—

Childe freezes. "Zhongli."

Zhongli looks innocent, his gaze serene. Only, his hand has slipped into Childe's new suit trousers to squeeze at his cock. Already half hard. So quick to rise to the occasion. Fuck. "I'm—he said—"

"He won't know."

He will, he definitely will, either because Childe can't keep his mouth shut, or because he paints the mirror white with his come from an ill-advised orgasm. Childe should say no but saying hard to Zhongli is night impossible, especially with the way that he strokes his cock in a gentle, but tight grip.

"Would you rather I stop?"

"No."

Zhongli's mouth spreads into a smirk and he pulls Childe's cock out of the trousers. "Quickly then," he says, plastering himself against Childe's back, chin resting against his shoulder. A tug against Childe's face with Zhongli's free hand, turning it towards the mirror. "Watch."

"I'm—"

"Watch." Zhongli's voice is deep and hot in his ear, the sound of sin itself.

Childe watches, his gaze dipping low to stare at Zhongli's hand tight around his cock. He pulls away to lick his palm and Childe hisses at the cold contact when he grasps him again. Slicker. Wetter. Zhongli pumps his cock quickly, intent on making a mess of him sooner than later.

"Oh, oh gods."

"Mhm." Zhongli watches too, his golden eyes half-lidded in the reflection. He licks his lips as he stares, cheeks flush. "I only want for you to relax."

"What about public sex would make me—"

"I think this qualifies as semi-public." Childe groans, distracted by the thought that Zhongli actually knows porn tags. Zhongli huffs as his hand quickens, tightening around the tip of his dick when it slides to the end. Childe keens, barely biting back a moan.

Zhongli's hands are dangerous. He's learned what Childe likes, exactly how to pull him apart. A tight grip—but not too tight. Just slick enough to not pull away from delicious friction. Zhongli sweeps a thumb over the weeping tip to spread the precome around and CHilde shudders.

"Look at you," says Zhongli fondly. "So responsive. Go on, you can fuck my hand."

"Gods, fuck you—"

"I'd rather fuck you but this isn't the time nor place." Zhongli sounds amused by the idea, wholly casual in the way it tumbles from his mouth. "No, this is fine. I love watching you like this, desperate for something as simple as my hand."

Oh, because he is. Childe whines softly, the sound of it fleeting. He bucks against Zhongli's hand, sliding into his slick grip.

"Go on," says Zhongli. "Use my hand."

Childe does, barely holding himself up on shaking legs. He bites his lip, bracing himself against Zhongli as he thrusts into his fingers. Long and dextrous, they jerk his dick in time, meeting Childe's movements with calculated timing. "Zhongli," he says. "Zhongli—"

"Quiet, now. Baizhu certainly will notice if he hears that pretty voice of yours." Zhongli presses his fingers against Childe's mouth, slipping between them with little resistance. Childe moans around them, muffled. His breath hitches, rutting against Zhongli's hand, quickly hurtling towards his end.

Pleasure curls, blinding hot in his veins. His cock aches, twitching in Zhongli's fingers with every debaucherous glide. His thrusts stutter. Zhongli's grip tightens, his stroking speeding up, dragging Childe right to his orgasm. He comes with a whine, licking at Zhongli's fingers that tap his tongue down. Paints Zhongli's hand white as he cups underneath Childe's dick with his palm.

"Good boy," whispers Zhongli in his ear, pressing a soft kiss there as he keeps touching him, easing him through the high of his pleasure.

"F-fuck you," says Childe once more when Zhongli pulls his fingers out of his mouth. He's a sweaty mess, chest heaving as he tries to catch a break. Minutes, he thinks. He doesn't think he's come so quickly since he was a teenager.

Zhongli says nothing as he cleans them up with an obscenely expensive handkerchief pulled from his pocket. Then, he tucks Childe's cock back into his clothing, closing the suit trousers as though they were never bothered. One wouldn't notice, save for the flush to their faces.

Childe stands there on shaking legs, glaring at Zhongli—at least until Zhongli leans forward for a kiss and all bets are gone. Forgiveness is easy. Childe sighs against his mouth.

"Better?" asks Zhongli.

Unfortunately, yes. Which is exactly what he says. Zhongli pets his hair again and guides him back through the door.

Baizhu gives them a rude look that speaks volumes but he's professional enough to say nothing for the rest of the fitting.