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It's a mild day in Liyue Harbor, puffy, gray-bottomed clouds hiding the face of the sun too often to provide much warmth. Frothy seawater bites at the pilings with more force than usual, setting the whole wharf to swaying slightly — Zhongli grits his teeth against the sensation, watching men scurry across the deck of the Fatui barque as they prepare for mooring for a few moments before he turns his attention to Ekaterina who stands in attentive silence at his side.
"It shouldn't be much longer now," she says, as if sensing his impatience.
"Thank you for keeping me company," he replies, as if they'd done more than simply stand there in neutral silence and wait for the same individual.
He catches the slightest hint of a smile curling her lips from beneath her mask. "He was right. You are funny, Mr. Zhongli." The silence resumes between them, though it is much more curious on Zhongli's end.
Zhongli only just catches a glimpse of familiar red hair near the front of the ship when they're joined by the harbormaster, who looks deeply unimpressed to see Fatui flags in Liyue Harbor. When the ramp is finally lowered, he's the first to board — Zhongli raises an eyebrow at Ekaterina, who simply shrugs and then gestures for him to follow her.
Zhongli cannot help but look for Childe the moment he's aboard; he finds him easily, hands on his hips and a wry look on his face as the official thumbs through a short stack of paperwork. For a moment, he's caught by the sight of him — the glint of light off the ruby dangling from his ear, the way the breeze tousles his hair and tugs playfully at the crimson stole dangling from his shoulder, lending his lean silhouette an almost heroic cast.
He looks up a moment later, and Zhongli is treated to the vision of his whole face lighting up, a flash of white teeth as he laughs boyishly and moves past the official to stride toward them. "Katya!" She bows, but he's already shifted his attention, and Zhongli can't even find it in himself to be chagrined on her behalf when he watches the way those strange blue eyes go soft and sweet. "Zhongli-xiansheng."
"Childe." Zhongli smiles, catching a glimpse of the way black-gloved hands twitch with an aborted desire to reach out.
Ekaterina holds up a hand. "I will deal with Mr. An. We will speak later, Lord Harbinger."
"Perfect Katya, as always," Childe grins. "I brought you something special from home, so don't let me forget it!" She bows again, fist to chest, and then moves past — and then they are alone. "Four months," Childe says quietly.
"And nine days," Zhongli says. "I hope your travels weren't too terribly adventurous."
Childe snorts. "I don't know why I like you so much, the way you curse me so. Come, follow — I want to show you something."
Zhongli obeys, doing his best to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut as the ship rocks beneath his feet, ducking beneath rigging as he trails Childe toward the stairs that lead under the deck. "Is it to do with why you summoned me?"
"Maybe I just wanted to see you," Childe says over his shoulder, then laughs. "I wasn't sure I'd be allowed off the ship, since we're a bit off-schedule. You know how it can be."
Zhongli doesn't really, but he hums along anyway, eyes flicking from lantern to creaking deck overhead to thin metal grates underfoot as Childe leads him along a hall. Finally, they stop at a nondescript door; Childe unlocks it, and then gestures Zhongli inside with a familiar bow.
The inside is as plain as any room Childe has kept, but Zhongli likes to think he'd still recognize it as his... and that's about as much observation as he manages before Childe is on him like a man starved, hands finding his jaw, tilting his head so that their mouths can meet at a perfect angle. Zhongli allows himself to be directed, pleased to have the opportunity to re-learn the taste of Childe: bitter coffee and bright citrus on his tongue, a hint of something sweet that he does not recognize.
"Do you know much about holidays outside of Liyue?" Childe asks once they've parted.
"I do not, unfortunately."
Childe flashes another bright grin, then pulls him toward the table where a decorative box tied with twisted paper ribbon sits at the center. "Haha, I don't either! But when I was in Fontaine, I saw some sweets merchants setting up decorations, and asked — apparently, today is Lovers' Day, where such lovers are encouraged to spoil one another with flowers and candy and such."
"How interesting," Zhongli says, rubbing his chin as he considers the way Childe shifts his weight from one foot to the other in barely-concealed excitement.
"Funny enough," Childe continues, "the artisans I spoke to claimed that the celebration had been perverted — that before the merchants got to it, it was a time to pray for health and, uh, fertility."
"...ah," Zhongli says, and suddenly the delighted grin on Childe's lovely face makes perfect sense.
"So I thought I'd split the difference!" Childe says triumphantly, and swipes the box from the table to hold out to Zhongli. "Something sweet, for my favorite fertility god."
Zhongli studies the box for a moment — a soft blue lacquer like the core of a glaze lily, the top of it painted with painstakingly detailed tiny white flowers on braided stems, graceful flourishes of gold along the sides. It's beautiful craftsmanship, and Zhongli hums his approval as he tugs the ribbon's knot loose.
Inside the box sits a number of chocolates, ranging from a light almond to a rich cocoa, some powdered, some drizzled, and some with small dried flowers pressed into the top. The presentation is lovely, though there's something about them — the not-quite uniform size, an uneven edge here and there, that leads Zhongli to believe that Childe did not in fact purchase them from one of those confectioners in Fontaine.
A short, slightly nervous-sounding laugh cuts through his thoughts.
"I know that when it comes to sweets, you like those little osmanthus cakes that Mr. Zhou sells the best," Childe says, "and I'd hoped to be able to get to the Stone Gate to pick some up for you, but—"
"You made these," Zhongli says, because he knows that Childe is about to apologize for his perceived oversight, and he cannot fathom trying to pretend the idea is anything less than ludicrous. "Didn't you?" Judging by the appealing flush spreading across those pale, freckled cheeks, he has his answer before Childe even opens his mouth.
"Do you know how difficult it is to make chocolate on a ship?" Childe laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "Pyotr threatened to throw me out of the galley daily, especially when I spilled cocoa beans all over the place and supper was a half hour late! He made me cook every meal for three days in penance."
"I find it hard to imagine anyone ordering a Harbinger around."
Childe shrugs. "On the open water, your cook might as well be second to the Tsaritsa. It's best this way, trust me."
How funny mortals are, Zhongli thinks. How charming, despite all sense. "I thank you sincerely for this thoughtful gift; I regret that I have prepared nothing for you in return."
"Seeing you is more than enough for me, xiansheng," Childe says. "Surely you aren't surprised that I would take any opportunity to spoil you?"
Without expectation, yes — it pleases Zhongli to know that he remains just as touched by the sentiment. He shakes his head fondly, pleased, too, by the way that soft flush deepens. Because it's Childe, because his expectation is written clearly on his face, Zhongli selects a chocolate before setting the box back on the table. "Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart," Zhongli says, and bites into the confection.
It's — surprising. Chocolate is uncommon in Liyue, and even he does not have much experience with it, but the richness of the cocoa and the soft texture is quite pleasant. More than that, there's a citrus edge to it, a bit like—
"I thought," Childe says, moving closer, "that perhaps you would enjoy something a bit more familiar. In Fontaine, they've started using tea to make pastries and chocolates and I thought, why not give it a shot? I have some of the blends you sent me off with — I swear, it was easier to get the texture right than it was to brew the tea without hearing your disapproval in the back of my mind." He grins widely. "So? What do you think?"
That silky softness lingers on Zhongli's tongue after he swallows. "Delicious," he says finally, and lifts the other half of the chocolate to press against Childe's bottom lip. He waits for a few heartbeats, then smiles indulgently when Childe obediently accepts it. "Your effort and culinary sacrifice will be remembered for all time."
Childe makes a soft noise at that. Zhongli gives him a few moments to chew before he leans in to claim his mouth, pleased by the idea of tasting that sweetness again. Childe does not disappoint, opening beautifully beneath the eager sweep of Zhongli's tongue, shivering despite the warmth of the cabin when Zhongli's hand slips beneath the provocative gap of Childe's shirt to skim over his hip and flatten against his spine, tugging him flush against his body. "How long," he murmurs between kisses, "how long may I keep you, to celebrate this day of lovers?"
"Four hours," Childe whispers; Zhongli catches the way his eyes flick toward the door, but he's already pawing at the clasps on Zhongli's coat with trembling fingers, "five if I don't — oh — mind cooking detail again. I thought we could get dinner, maybe, and—"
"Of course," Zhongli says, and he thinks maybe Childe expects it, the way he picks him up, Childe's thighs curling tight against Zhongli's hips as he maneuvers them toward the humble little cabin bed in the corner. "But — dessert first, I think."
"Dessert first," Childe laughs against his lips. "I like that idea."