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Xingqiu doesn’t like parties. Never has, as a matter of fact. Beyond the bland conversation in attempts to win an ounce of his nonexistent favor for diplomatic reasons, there’s also the stuffy heat of a hundred people in a room (his intricate hand-tailored dress coats also do not help in this regard), not to mention his brother pushing glass after glass of champagne into his hands, only for him to deposit them back onto a serving tray. And worst of all, even worse than ‘diplomatic’ pursuits, is having various dancing partners forced onto him along the night.
Which is precisely why he needs to find himself an escort beforehand - and Xingqiu already has the perfect candidate.
“Indulge me, just this once.”
Chongyun sighs heavily. “No,” he repeats.
“I was under the impression ,” Xingqiu says pointedly, putting on his best stuffy prince face and making his voice pretentious in a way that annoys even himself, “that those who worked in the palace served me. Therefore, you should acquiesce. I don’t ask for that much, do I?”
“Please, Your Highness - “
“Xingqiu,” he corrects.
“ Prince Xingqiu,” Chongyun compromises. Well, that’s good enough for now, they can work on it. “You know I’ll be there, right at the doors for you. I don’t understand why you would want me there as your guest, unless … “
Xingqiu allows himself a moment of hope, which is pretty much the most he can do. The only alternative he can think of is flat out saying Chongyun, I genuinely enjoy your company, and I’d much rather hide in your shadow all night than allow other people to take advantage of my kind nature , which is out of the question. He’s not entirely sure why he won’t let himself do that, but there’s almost no chance Chongyun would believe him anyway.
“Prince Xingqiu,” he says slowly, dropping his voice just enough that Xingqiu’s heart skips a beat. “Have you received information about a planned assassination?”
Yes, Xingqiu is going to be screaming into his pillow after this. For sure.
“No, nothing like that.” He clears his throat, in that way that people tend to clear their throats when there isn’t anything to say but they feel the need to fill the silence.
“That’s a relief.” Chongyun starts heading back down the hallway, but Xingqiu follows him. This conversation is not over until he wins.
“Chongyun.” He settles for a half-truth. “I want you to accompany me because I hate dancing.”
Chongyun stumbles on the plush red carpet under his feet.
“Prince Xingqiu, surely you can’t mean that,” he says, alarmed in a disproportionate way that’s surprisingly endearing. “Aren’t parties almost entirely dancing? How do you survive them if you loathe it so much?”
“I don’t,” Xingqiu sighs, draping himself against the wall of the corridor with as much false flair as he can. “A part of me passes away with every one that I attend. So, naturally, I wish to save myself from such a terrible fate, and you happen to be the solution.”
Chongyun doesn’t quite look convinced, but his eyes betray something. This is an incredibly good sign, because most of the time, his face shows nothing but carefully maintained calm.
“Please,” Xingqiu adds softly.
He waits with wide eyes. The sound of metal on metal echoes distantly from the training grounds. The expensive red curtains with the Feiyun family crest marked in gold flutter in the breeze. A whirlwind of emotions pass through Chongyun’s eyes for a brief moment, and then he just sighs heavily, and Xingqiu knows he’s won.
***
It’s quarter to seven precisely when Chongyun knocks on his door.
Xingqiu fails miserably at snuffing out the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Come in.”
Chongyun does, and then immediately backs out and shuts the door again, covering his face as if he’d made some kind of grievous error in making this decision.
Xingqiu stares at the closed door with no small amount of dread. “What?”
“You’re alone,” he says quietly, voice muffled even more by the door. “According to protocol, no one save your personal attendants should be alone with you, especially not before an event such as this - “
“Protocol be damned,” Xingqiu replies, stifling a laugh when he hears a clear noise of protest. “Besides, you aren’t here as a guard, you’re here as my escort.”
For a moment, there’s only silence, probably consideration, but after this brief hesitation, Chongyun re-enters.
Oh.
Xingqiu didn’t know there was a dress uniform for royal guards, but in hindsight of course there must be, because that is clearly what Chongyun is wearing, and he most definitely likes it. Something’s a little bit off about it, the gold clashing with the ice blue of his hair and competing with his pale skin, but even then, it only serves to enhance the parts of his nature that don’t match.
“Are you alright, Prince Xingqiu?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he says quickly, “help me with this clasp?” He holds out his gold pendant necklace. A good distraction, he thinks, until he realizes that this action requires not only close proximity, but Chongyun’s hands on his neck, and that is not good, definitely not -
Chongyun, oblivious to his internal crisis (as he is to most things, apparently), takes the pendant from him and hesitates for a moment before slowly connecting the ends of the chain behind Xingqiu’s neck. It’s clear that he’s taking care not to let himself touch Xingqiu, which part of him appreciates, but in practice, the effort he puts in and the focus in his eyes makes it even worse.
At this rate, he’s going to pass out before he even makes it out of the room.
***
Well. Unfortunately, he is very much conscious when they arrive.
“Are you sure about this?” Chongyun asks quietly, lingering at the corner of the grand ballroom with him, away from the attention spectacle that is the main floor.
“Yes,” Xingqiu reassures him, and probably himself as well, “you’ll be fine.”
This particular celebration, as it turns out, is a spectacle to welcome the newest wave of Snezhnayan diplomats who’ve arrived in Liyue, so it’s not as formal as some others might have been. Relations with the Fatui aren’t exactly tense, especially not with one of their Harbingers permanently residing in the palace (with Zhongli. Everyone pretends not to know even though they very much do). Regardless, there isn’t much pressure on Xingqiu tonight to perform.
So maybe his real motive was just to make the occasion less boring. Xingqiu smothers his desire to laugh in his first glass of champagne of the night.
Which is most definitely not the last. He isn’t entirely sure how many times his glass is refilled over the course of the meal, but it probably isn’t that many, or else he’d know. Besides, Chongyun isn’t drinking at all, he notes. If at least one of them is completely sober, that’ll just make up for the other one, won’t it?
At some point along the course of the night, his mother’s pointed looks can no longer be ignored, and he signals back that he’s waiting for the next song, which he certainly isn’t. He’d gladly wait as long as he can, or even excuse himself to retire early, anything to get out of making a spectacle of himself and dragging Chongyun with him. But to his surprise, it’s Chongyun who offers his hand with a determined look in his eye, and oh, right, he’s absolutely enamored with this stupid oblivious guard who he somehow convinced to -
Anyway. One thing leads to another, and all Xingqiu knows is that he ends up in Chongyun’s arms, dizzy with something that isn’t at all related to being spun, and that if given the choice, he’d stay there forever.
Chongyun gives him an exasperated look, but it’s not without fondness.
***
Over the next few days, in between writing his novel, skirting his royal duties, playing (losing) chess against his least favorite advisor (Ningguang), and escaping to train alongside the higher-ranking recruits, Xingqiu gives the matter some thought, and decides that it was one of the most enjoyable things he’s ever done.
So begins his diabolical plan: annoy Chongyun out of his wits every time a ball is approaching until he finally gives in, thereby avoiding the majority of his suitors. Simple. Genius. Perfect.
***
The second occasion is no more monumental than the first. In fact, it’s even smaller than the rather extravagant Fatui selection that had been in attendance at the previous one, so Xingqiu has little difficulty convincing Chongyun to accompany him. All it takes is a few well-placed pleading looks and his resistance crumbles like a freshly baked lotus flower crisp.
A gathering of Mondstadt officials, their arrival celebrated to ensure that they remain on good terms. The perfect testing ground for his antics.
“Oh?” A giggle interrupts Xingqiu’s thoughts. “And who might this be, my my? I’m ever so curious as to who’s caught your eye.”
Chongyun goes completely stiff, as if frozen in place. He’s silent, so Xingqiu covers for him.
“Barbatos - “
“Venti, please.”
“ - delightful to see you again,” Xingqiu finishes. “How are you faring these days?”
The bard (former ruler, not that he acts like it) waves a hand carelessly. “Perfectly fine with all this wine, I suppose.” He grins brightly, nose scrunching with mischief. “Although, if you could convince Xiao to come to Mond more often, I would not be opposed.”
“Ah.” Xingqiu knows that Xiao will not be so easily swayed, considering his intense loyalty to Liyue, but makes a mental note to inform him that it was Venti who had asked. “Well, this is Chongyun. One of the royal guards, and my escort for tonight.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Venti says with a wink.
Chongyun raises an eyebrow, betraying no emotion beyond mild confusion. “Likewise,” he says, but Xingqiu can tell he isn’t completely sure if he means it or not. His arm is still incredibly still beneath Xingqiu’s hand, in a way that suggests he’s practiced it many, many times.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly as they cross the room, headed for the doorway where the Mondstadt guests are entering. He waves politely, giving the guests as little attention as he can get away with.
“My training did not exactly cover this,” Chongyun admits, turning away slightly, cheeks tinted pink. “This is difficult terrain for me to traverse, so to speak. I … have no idea what to do.”
Xingqiu barely prevents himself from bursting out laughing. “Oh, my dear Chongyun,” he sighs. The strange look his father sends him goes completely unnoticed. “You’re doing perfectly. Just follow my lead. Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
Exactly the response Xingqiu had been hoping for. He hides a smirk. This is most certainly a bargaining chip he will be filing away for later use.
Chongyun seems much more at ease as Xingqiu continues greeting incoming guests (“Welcome to Liyue,” “We hope you’ll enjoy your stay,” “A pleasure to host you,” the usual nonsense), and even joins in smiling slightly for them. Well, it’s probably for them. That’s what Xingqiu tells himself, at least. No need to get his hopes up.
Teasing comments and a little bit of near murder between two of the Mond guests aside, the evening goes well. Xingqiu loses himself in a lengthy conversation with Albedo over the appearance of the princess of his novel over the meal, giving him the appearance of socializing when in reality what he’s doing is infodumping. Chongyun keeps him company in silence, seeming content, which is more than could be said of most people in the same situation.
And then the orchestra strikes up a faster, more purposeful tune, and all of a sudden the ballroom is filled with people, covering the floor like a thin layer of dust.
Xingqiu’s hands go cold.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to dance, no, it’s the complete opposite. Obviously, that’s the reason he invited Chongyun in the first place. The simple truth is that he’s terrified of asking. Besides, didn’t Chongyun say he doesn’t know how to behave here? What if they accidentally made fools of themselves? Archons, this had been easier when he wasn’t sober.
Albedo must notice his sudden silence, because he says, very unhelpfully, “I believe the dancing has begun, if you’d like to join in,” with a pointed look in Chongyun’s direction.
Luckily, Xingqiu is spared from answering by a smug laugh. “Albedo dearest, if you wanted to dance so badly, you could have just said so,” a smooth voice says, and Albedo sighs with uncharacteristically fond annoyance, offering a faint protest (“Kaeya, I was trying to make a point,”) before taking his offered hand and allowing himself to be led out.
Leaving Xingqiu well and truly alone.
“Shall we?” he asks quickly, before the nerves can catch up to him.
Chongyun glances over at him appraisingly. For a moment, Xingqiu’s mind grinds to a halt with the thought that he might decline, but he nods and flashes the slightest hint of a smile, like a sliver of sunset over the fog of Jueyun Karst, and his worries vanish.
Dancing usually feels like such a chore, forced politeness and faked enjoyment and hastily crafted smiles, the ingenuity of it all overwhelming any pleasantness that may have been a part of it. But somehow, with Chongyun, it all feels like a novelty again.
“Forward, forward, left, back,” Xingqiu whispers, and Chongyun nods slightly, glancing down at his feet every so often in a way that’s hopelessly endearing. His steps match the length of Xingqiu’s, something he’s probably calculating carefully, just like everything else he does. Clearly, Chongyun is no stranger to putting up fronts, but he hopes desperately that this isn’t one of them.
Xingqiu decides, completely out of selfishness, to stop signaling the upcoming movements.
Still, Chongyun keeps up with him. When Xingqiu starts to move, he’s right there, following his every step effortlessly; when he spins away, Chongyun releases one hand and reverses the momentum to pull him back in, just like his dance instructor used to when he was younger. It’s horrible. It’s infuriating. Xingqiu thinks he might love it.
The musicians switch tracks again, moving into a more familiar waltz, something easy and well-known. Boring, Xingqiu thinks, and he almost wants to challenge Chongyun by attempting something completely different. Almost. Part of him is too scared of what would happen if Chongyun fell behind, and the other part of him can’t handle the idea of Chongyun managing to predict his movements. So he sticks to the boring routine, same as everyone else, and -
Oh.
Xingqiu may have forgotten a few parts of this, or maybe they just didn’t mean anything to him before. Either way, his brain nearly stops functioning when Chongyun’s hand, formerly contained in his, slips away during a particularly complicated twirl, and finds its way to his waist.
Well. It’s anything but boring. That he can say for sure.
As the music slows and his heartbeat does not, Xingqiu makes a mental note to do that more often, because Archons above, he has never enjoyed being terrified so much.
“Thank you,” Xingqiu says, very unnecessarily, as they make their way back to their seats. “I enjoyed that.”
The frown Chongyun puts on is surprisingly earnest. “I thought you detested dancing.”
“It’s not so bad with you.”
“Really? I felt like I was messing up at least half of everything I did.”
And the notion is so ridiculous that Xingqiu can’t help laughing. “No, you were wonderful,” he assures Chongyun, sighing in a way that he hopes doesn’t expose how strangely ecstatic he feels. He pours himself a short glass of champagne as a distraction, and then begins to fill the glass across from him as well.
“I don’t drink,” Chongyun blurts, rather suddenly.
“Oh? Why not?” Nevertheless, he ceases filling the flute. “I thought everyone in the guards loved drinking. Beidou certainly does, Kazuha and Xinyan aren’t opposed- “
Chongyun grimaces, taking a sip of water instead. “I avoid anything that might provoke my condition. Alcohol, spicy food, holding grudges, anything especially intense.”
“Oh.” Perfectly reasonable, now that he thinks about it. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.” He hopes that it’s good enough to serve as an apology. His thoughts suddenly turn mischievous, and he grins. “I can take that extra champagne off your hands, then.”
“Not again,” Chongyun mumbles somewhat darkly into his hands.
Although he has no intention of letting himself get out of control, Xingqiu just laughs, letting a trace of wickedness filter through. The reaction he gets is worth it.
***
Chongyun is, ultimately, a pushover. This, Xingqiu knows, because he proceeds to drag Chongyun to every weekly palace dinner as his guest, and every event in between, and anything else that he can make a shoddy excuse for. And it’s easy, too easy, so he keeps going.
It’s convenient, he tells himself, that’s all. He just likes having someone to have his back at these types of gatherings, to talk to when he doesn’t want to have to do legitimate socializing. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the way Chongyun never looks away when they’re dancing, how he’ll sometimes sneak out for a few minutes with him if Xingqiu complains of the heat, how Chongyun always places a supporting hand around his shoulders or at his waist when he starts to get tired, which definitely makes him more alert, to say the least -
“Xingqiu? You there?”
He winces. “Yes, gege . I’m listening.”
“Okay, then what did I just say?”
“You just asked if I was here.”
His brother sighs with annoyance that he knows isn’t real - if it was, Xingqiu would have been exiled from Liyue a thousand times over. “Smartass,” he mumbles. “Fine. Just … please make an effort at this one, okay? It’s important.” He sweeps out the door of the study.
“It’s your birthday celebration,” Xingqiu yells after him at the top of his lungs, probably loud enough that everyone in this wing of the Feiyun palace can hear him. “Why do I need to try?”
Correction: everyone except his brother can hear him, apparently. Xingqiu just huffs in irritation. He has a plan anyway. Who cares?
***
“No.”
His tone is colder than a winter’s night in Jueyun Karst.
Xingqiu blinks. His thoughts are completely blank. “What?”
Chongyun doesn’t even bother saying it again. He just picks up his silver claymore again and starts polishing the already pristine blade. Reflection-Xingqiu looks disappointed, or perhaps it’s just his imagination projecting.
“Please - “
“You say that every time, Prince Xingqiu.”
“This is different . Practically everyone in Liyue is going to be there. My brother’s birthday is highly important.” He glares at Chongyun with as much venom as he can muster, even though the other won’t look at him, hasn’t looked at him at all. “I can’t be put at the mercy of eligible marriage candidates. I need you - “
“Archons, just shut up ,” Chongyun snaps, loud enough that the sound echoes through the training ground and into the courtyard. His eyes blaze white, none of their usual calm blue glory present. “I don’t want to keep doing this. I- I won’t let you use me any longer.”
Is that what he thinks? That Xingqiu’s just been using him as an excuse all this time?
Of course he cares about Chongyun. The idea that he doesn’t is so ridiculous that he laughs.
A mistake. Chongyun closes his eyes, inhales deeply, and then abruptly drops his greatsword back into its slot in the rack and leaves. Just leaves. Speedwalks in the direction of the guards’ quarters, fast enough that Xingqiu probably wouldn’t be able to keep up.
“Wait, Chongyun, Chongyun, I didn’t - “
Xingqiu starts sprinting after him, following the faint flashes of blue and white that he occasionally gets as reward for his chasing efforts, but it’s fruitless. By the time he’s gotten far enough into the guards’ quarters to potentially reach Chongyun’s room, he’s completely lost. He calls Chongyun’s name one more time, a vain plea for help more than anything, but no one answers. The mirror along the corridor stares back at him. He isn’t sure if he’s grateful for it or saddened by it.
***
For a while, Xingqiu pretends he isn’t pouting. He greets everyone as they come into the ballroom, offers unbothered smiles and kind words in all the right places, making good use of his talent with words. He makes it through dinner on his flawless manners alone. Thinking about the plot of the next part of his novel prevents him from getting too bored. Albedo just sent him a new design concept, after all, which is perfectly interesting. But he knows he’s pouting anyway.
And apparently, so does his brother, because he feels a tap on his leg and glances to his left, where his brother sits.
What is up with you , his eyes say.
Xingqiu puts on his best innocent face. Absolutely no idea what you’re talking about .
His brother rolls his eyes. Probably a sign to get it together. And fine, since it’s his birthday and all, he decides to indulge him. Also because he doesn’t want to disappoint his mother, whose stares are becoming more and more noticeable. He’s been staying seated for a suspicious amount of time anyway, might as well get it over with.
At least, until he catches a glimpse of pale blue hair at one of the ballroom doors.
Fuck it, Xingqiu thinks. He makes the biggest show possible out of taking some random girl’s hand, and pastes on a smile as he invites her out to dance. He follows the music effortlessly, making it look like he’s fully invested (hopefully).
When Chongyun notices him looking, he stares at the floor with intense determination.
Xingqiu looks away too, pretending he’d never even considered it.
To his immense disappointment, dancing with her isn’t the same. Yes, she’s nice, and she moves with grace, but something isn’t quite right. She doesn’t have that cute scrunched expression on her face, concentrating on her footing. She doesn’t move perfectly in sync with him. She doesn’t make obvious efforts not to touch him when it isn’t necessary, in that way that makes Xingqiu start obsessing over whatever moments they do touch.
There’s nothing wrong with her. It’s just that she isn’t Chongyun .
Xingqiu doesn’t want to think about what that might mean.
Another dance with a different girl (another face he won’t remember in the morning, he thinks), and then another, and another, and he knows none of them are going to measure up. He switches tracks and takes the hand of a blonde boy a little bit taller than him who might be from Fontaine, but still, nothing. Xingqiu’s traitorous eyes drift to the corner door where he knows Chongyun is lingering.
He’s looking back.
Xingqiu switches dance partners again (this time, a person with pink-streaked hair and boots with heels so thin they could likely cut fabric), and beams at them, trying to make a show of enjoying himself. He isn’t. He wishes Chongyun were here instead.
Another revelation he doesn’t want to face.
Xingqiu lets himself be swept around the room for the remainder of the song, and immediately excuses himself to get a drink and probably scream silently while no one’s watching.
Unfortunately, his plans are ruined when a certain chef-slash-duchess follows him to the edge of the room, taking a seat next to him at the banquet table. Since he’s exceptionally polite, he grabs a cup of lemon sorbet for her.
Xiangling flashes her signature sunshine sweet grin. “Aww, thanks.”
“What do you want,” Xingqiu deadpans.
She takes a bite of the lemon sorbet with a comically small spoon, humming in approval.
“Please hurry, Xiangling. I don’t exactly have all night.”
A shrug. “You kinda do, though - “
“That’s beside the point.”
“Right.” She clears her throat in a way that has people looking at her strangely from the neighboring table. Xingqiu resists the urge to faceplant on the table and pretend he is a plate of dessert. “Wanna dance with me?”
“My savior has arrived,” he mumbles, which they both know is a yes.
The thing about Xiangling is that she’s perfect about fifty percent of the time, but she’s insufferably annoying during the other fifty percent. An excellent formula, in Xingqiu’s opinion. If they were siblings instead of cousins, he’s sure he’d say otherwise. Anyway, he usually manages to catch her on the perfect side at parties like this, something proven by her offer to relieve him of the stress of dancing with strangers.
He starts to think of the person he knows is stationed just outside the door on the opposite side of the room, and sighs.
There’s a clear question in Xiangling’s eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.
Yes, she’s definitely in perfect mode. Xingqiu silently sends his thanks to whatever star is watching over him as she leads through an easy waltz, giving out smiles with more energy in them than Xingqiu usually allotts for a whole day.
The music is a nice distraction. He gets through the first song with no errors whatsoever, earning a subtle thumbs-up from Xiangling. You got this. And he almost believes it too, until another traditional Liyue waltz starts to play, the one he remembers Chongyun’s hand at his waist to, counting the steps out.
He abruptly stops moving.
The corner of Xiangling’s mouth lifts up in a slight smirk. “I’m not the one you want to dance with, am I?” she whispers.
Xingqiu shuts his mouth before his idiot brain can force any words out.
She rolls her eyes. “Just go already, it’s getting kind of weird to see you without him.”
Xiangling gives him about half a second to wonder what that last bit meant before she’s shoving him in the direction of the door he knows Chongyun is just outside of. He could swear she throws a wink in there too.
The crowd of people parts for him like he’s a blade slicing through water, but it doesn’t do anything to make him less nervous. Archons, what is he even going to say? He has no idea, but the music and the movement of his feet make up for all the confidence he lacks.
And quickly, too quickly, he’s there.
He’s wearing the dress uniform again, Xingqiu notes. It’s different, though; this one’s got less gold, and it suits his color scheme better. Chongyun is the polar opposite of the deep reds and vibrant golds of the Feiyun family crest, but maybe that’s part of why he’s so interesting.
Xingqiu taps his shoulder. Chongyun doesn’t so much as glance backwards towards him.
He tries again. No response.
Xingqiu sighs. Fine. If he has to, then so be it.
“Chongyun.” He draws in an unsteady breath. “I’m sorry. I want to dance with you. I always have. And it isn’t - it isn’t because you’re easy to convince, it’s because there’s nobody else that I’d like by my side. So, let me plead with you one more time?”
Chongyun hesitates, but turns all the way around, and it hits Xingqiu very suddenly how close he’s managed to get. He doesn’t manage to suppress a flush, mentally blaming it on the heat.
“ … I thought you detested dancing.” His tone is almost teasing, and the faintest hint of a smile graces his lips.
“Not when it’s with you.” Xingqiu offers his hand, trying not to show the sheer nervous energy buzzing behind his calm facade and probably failing abysmally.
Chongyun considers for a single, horrible, breathtaking, terrifying moment, and then -
“Alright.”
Xingqiu beams.