Work Text:
Keqing has worked hard her whole life. In school, she studied to be top of her class; and when learning the blade, she practiced until her palms were red and ripe with bruises. Working hard is what makes her human, and relying on anything silly like prayer or “natural talent” would be foolish, to say the least.
At least this is what she thought until she met Ganyu. The sleepy-eyed secretary can do twice as much work in half the time it takes for Keqing to do it—and she can even afford to take a lunch break. At one point, Keqing stayed late after Ganyu went home and scoured through her coworker’s work, hoping to find at least one mistake to see if the woman sacrifices quality for speed, but Keqing found every page squeaky clean from mistakes.
The most frustrating part of this all is that Keqing can’t even get mad at Ganyu. Not only is Ganyu an incredible worker and a bright woman, but she is also just a sweet person all around. She is easily approachable, and she never makes anyone feel like a bother, even when everyone knows how busy she is. Her only flaw is that she takes on more than she should, and she needs to set clear boundaries so that she can enjoy more of her life.
That’s it, then. The Lantern Rite festival is coming up, and this is the perfect time for Ganyu to take a day off—and the perfect time for Keqing to prove that she can do just as much work as Ganyu can. The plan is to stay late every day for a week or so to lighten Ganyu’s load and then convince the girl to enjoy the festivities outside. Then Ganyu can have a break, and Keqing can feel good knowing that all her hard work is worth it in the end.
It’s a perfect plan. It’s foolproof.
Except that Ganyu beats her to it.
One day before Lantern Rite kicks off, when Keqing is running solely on caffeinated tea and sheer stubborn perseverance, Keqing walks into the office to find that all her work has been completed.
“Oh, I had some extra time, and I noticed you had a lot more on your plate, so I thought I would clear your tasks for the week,” Ganyu explains with her usual polite-and-slightly-distant tone. “That way, you can enjoy the festival outside.”
Keqing doesn’t know if she should be flattered or annoyed.
Misinterpreting Keqing’s torn expression, Ganyu withers. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped.”
“No, that’s not it, I just…”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Keqing grabs Ganyu’s wrist.
“Come on, let’s go to the festival,” Keqing grumbles.
“But it doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
“I said, come on!”
“Oh, OK.”
Technically, the plan did kind of work: Keqing worked hard, and now Ganyu has the day off. But it doesn’t feel like a complete victory that Keqing earned on her own.
—
Maybe Keqing can’t beat Ganyu with work, but she can triumph in something else.
After spending time with Ganyu during Lantern Rite and several shared lunches afterward, Keqing has learned more about the soft-spoken woman. And among the quirks that Keqing has picked up, she recognizes that Ganyu has a habit of holding back when it comes to anything self-indulgent.
So, Keqing will have to do it herself. A gift-giving holiday is just around the corner, and although Keqing usually ignores it because of its romantic undertones (and she is way too busy for romance, of all things), she will partake in it this year to prove to one overworking and all-too-appreciated secretary that she deserves a treat once in a while.
But after spending countless days practicing chocolate-making and one sleepless night perfecting and decorating, Keqing walks into the office to see a much more beautiful and elaborate set of sweets on her desk.
“Happy Giving Day,” Ganyu greets with a small smile.
“Yeah, Happy… Giving Day…” Keqing trails off.
Keqing drops her head to her present, which now just looks simple and cute in comparison to Ganyu’s decadent presentation. She can’t give this to Ganyu, not when Ganyu’s sweets look a hundred times better than Keqing’s does.
Ganyu notices Keqing’s expression, and her face falls.
“Do you not like sweets?” Ganyu assumes. “I’m sorry, I thought you did. You don’t have to eat it—”
“No, I’ll eat it, I…”
Keqing takes a chocolate (elegant, pristine), and she takes an experimental bite. Immediately, an explosion of flavor bursts in her mouth.
“Is it… OK?” Ganyu tests.
Keqing blurts, “Is it OK? Is it OK? How in the world did you make this? What did you put in this?”
“Oh, this and that,” Ganyu answers awkwardly. “I’ve been experimenting for a few years.”
A few years? A few years? How can Keqing compete with years worth of practice and talent?
Finally, Ganyu notices the present in Keqing’s hand.
“Who is that for?” Ganyu asks.
Keqing just shoves the box in Ganyu’s hands and storms away.
—
This combination of frustration and determination is a mix of emotions that Keqing felt once before: when she was first appointed as the Yuheng of the Qixing. She only obtained such a venerable position because her stance on the self-sufficient strength of humankind matched with the Tianquan’s vision; but as Keqing studied more and more about Rex Lapis’ incredible organization skills and juggling of duties, she couldn’t help being impressed by his talents. Soon, that respect turned into obsession and then maybe an embarrassing crush of sorts, one where she lay in bed and wondered what the god might look like if he were disguised as a human walking among them.
Getting to know Ganyu has been a similar experience, but this time, Keqing doesn’t have to imagine what this incredible person would look like. Ganyu is here, really here, standing next to her as they wait for their food to be prepared. Keqing doesn’t have to wonder if Ganyu would be attractive, because she can see just how breathtakingly beautiful she is with her soft eyes, her silky hair, and her stunning physique.
It doesn’t feel like a simple crush, and certainly not one that feels like infatuation with a fictional character or a celebrity. This feels much more real—and much more attainable.
But how should Keqing go about this? Having never done this before, she has no idea how to navigate this kind of situation. Keqing and Ganyu have moved from coworkers to friends now… but could it go any further? Does Ganyu want to go any further?
Their dishes arrive, and Ganyu notices that Keqing’s plate is conspicuously missing something.
“Um, excuse me,” Ganyu calls after the server. “I think you forgot my girlfriend’s dipping sauce.”
All coherent words escape from Keqing’s mind.
“Huh?” Keqing breathes.
“Hm?” Ganyu turns to Keqing. “Don’t you want dipping sauce?”
“You just called me your girlfriend,” Keqing repeats.
Ganyu blinks. “Are you… not?”
“What? I… are we...?”
“Well, I thought since you like me, and I like you…”
Wait, wait. Ganyu likes her? Really?
As always, Ganyu misinterprets Keqing’s shock for the worst possible outcome.
“Do you not want to be my girlfriend?” Ganyu asks in a small voice.
“No, of course not—I mean, yes, yes, I do,” Keqing sputters.
“OK,” Ganyu laughs a little. “Then there’s no problem, right?”
That’s a good question. If Ganyu likes Keqing back, then everything really should be fine. Except Keqing can’t quite push this restless feeling aside.
—
The problem is that Ganyu is always one step ahead of Keqing. The problem is that every time Keqing deliberates about something, carefully plans it out, and then finally starts to act on it, Ganyu has already done it. It doesn’t feel like things are moving too fast; it just feels like Keqing can never keep up.
As anticipated, the pattern persists in the bedroom, too, but here, Keqing never had a chance at all. She has never done something like this, and she knows that no amount of research could educate her to be a better lover. So, Ganyu takes the lead, and she never once makes Keqing feel like an awkward, floundering mess; she only treats Keqing like the most special girl in the world with every kiss and touch to Keqing’s body.
Keqing finds her release, and after a moment to catch her breath, she reaches for Ganyu to return the favor—but she pauses halfway.
“There’s no point,” Keqing mutters.
Ganyu tilts her head. “Sorry?”
Biting her lip, Keqing sits up in bed.
“Nothing I do is ever as good as what you do,” Keqing elaborates. “I try as hard as I can, but it’s not good enough.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is true, and you know it, too!”
Frustrated, Keqing scrunches up the bedsheet in her hand.
“You’re incredible. You’re amazing. You’re perfect,” Keqing sighs. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, and you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You can do anything you want to do, and you can do it well.”
Keqing stabs a finger to her bare chest.
“And then look at me! I’m just—I’m just a girl, that’s all I am. I work hard, but I’m not special like you are.”
Defeated, Keqing drops her hand to the bed.
“How can I possibly believe that I’m good enough for you?” she whispers.
Ganyu has been sitting still for all of Keqing’s outburst, respectfully quiet while letting the other talk. Finally, though, at Keqing’s hopeless question, Ganyu speaks.
“I love you,” Ganyu confesses.
Keqing’s breath catches her in throat—and then she waves her hands erratically in the air.
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Keqing exclaims.
“Wh-what?” Ganyu stutters.
“You’re always one step ahead of me!”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, this is so not fair!”
Keqing huffs and falls backward on the bed, shoving her face in the pillow. After a moment where Ganyu adjusts the blankets over their naked bodies, Ganyu lies down next to her.
“I can see that you’re frustrated, but I really don’t see what the issue is,” Ganyu admits.
“Well, you wouldn’t,” Keqing snaps.
“It’s not a competition,” Ganyu continues. “That’s not what love is about. It’s about collaboration.”
Ganyu scoots closer to Keqing.
“And you and I already know that we work together well,” Ganyu offers.
They do work together well; they have proven that time and again in the workplace. They knew that they were perfect partners ever since they first met each other in the office so many months ago.
How long has it been like this? How long has Keqing been instinctively fighting in the ring while Ganyu has been comfortably sitting on the sidelines and waiting for Keqing to sit down next to her?
After fighting so hard to get to where she is, Keqing forgot how to relax. It feels oddly uncomfortable and undeserved, and Keqing instinctively rejects it.
“But what if—”
Keqing’s rebuttal is met with Ganyu’s mouth against hers. With one touch, the bundle of stubborn resistance in Keqing’s chest uncurls, like a flower slowly blooming from the warmth of the sun.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you. I feel like I’m always overstepping with you,” Ganyu murmurs. “But I think I had to do that.”
Being forced to surrender doesn’t feel good, but a gentle pull toward a soft embrace is easier to accept.
“It’s… it’s fine,” Keqing mumbles.
It’s fine.
For once, it’s fine.
—
Later, before Ganyu turns into her home after the end of the workday, Keqing pushes a small box into Ganyu’s hands.
“What’s this?” Ganyu asks.
Ganyu opens it, and although Keqing can’t see the contents inside, she can see the diamond reflecting off Ganyu’s big, purple eyes.
“Look, I’m nowhere near ready yet, but I know I eventually will be—and by the time I’m shopping around, you’ll have already found the perfect ring and the perfect rock to give to me,” Keqing says, unable to keep the simultaneous bitterness and embarrassment out of her voice. “So, I’m trying to get a step ahead while I still can.”
Ganyu only stares at Keqing with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“There’s no need to rush,” Ganyu reassures.
Keqing shoots back, “You of all people cannot tell me that.”
“What did I do this time?”
“Nothing, just—just let me have this one, all right?”
Ganyu still doesn’t seem to follow, but she closes her mouth and lifts the ring out of the box. Clumsily, Keqing slides the ring on Ganyu’s finger, and Ganyu looks fondly at her bejeweled hand with a warm smile on her face.
Keqing’s motto has always been to work hard and trust in what she knows here and now under her own two hands. She never depended on the gods, and she never believed in destiny. But despite everything she has told herself, when she sees Ganyu smiling at the ring on her finger, Keqing allows herself to believe—just once—in magic, just for a fairy tale happy ending for the two of them.
Because, after all their hard work, frankly, they deserve it.