Work Text:
There's a lot of things Zhang Jiale expected to happen when he joined Tyranny. The uproar from Hundred Blossoms' fans was one. The slightly less impassioned but still very vehement uproar from Tyranny's fans was another. The flood of notifications from his socials that experience told him to ignore. The teasing messages from old friends, both still playing and retired. It all happened like clockwork.
What he hadn't expected was for his old crush on Zhang Xinjie to come hurtling out of nowhere with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He'd barely considered his crush in years, it had been a fleeting infatuation when Zhang Xinjie had debuted, and he'd put it down to being attracted to competence displayed in his rookie year. With the culmination being Tyranny's victory in Season Four, Zhang Xinjie being part of the team that ended Excellent Era's domination of the league.
It was hardly surprising if Zhang Jiale looked over at Tyranny's rookie vice-captain, sharp and focused, and felt a shiver at the thought of his meticulous attention being focused on him. But then Sun Zheping had retired, and Hundred Blossoms became his alone, and Zhang Jiale didn't have time to consider his feelings, and the memory of Zhang Xinjie's smile faded in the haze of exhaustion and burnout.
But now. Now Zhang Jiale had a team again, now he was one senior of many, and hardly intimidating when stood next to Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie, and he found himself with time on his hands again. Without the crushing weight of leadership on his shoulders, maybe it wasn't surprising that his old feelings had resurfaced.
At least, that was Huang Shaotian's working theory.
"It's only natural, maybe Xinjie is scary, he's got that scary thinking face, and he's always thinking, which makes his face always scary, but now you see him when he's thinking about nice things, like stationary and tactics and spreadsheets, so of course it shouldn't surprise you that you remembered that you liked him when he was new and scary, so now that he's scary and close to you, it's obvious that you're going to get squishy about him again, the only problem is what are you planning on doing about it—?"
"What do you mean, what am I going to do about it? I'm not going to be doing anything about it!"
"Aiyah, aiyah!" Zhang Jiale hates that he can see Huang Shaotian in his mind's eye, if he was sitting, he's on his feet now, holding the phone with one hand, his other hand flailing wildly, as if he's trying to swat the words out of the air, even as he uses his own to shoot them down.
"You won't get anywhere like that, I know Xinjie tempered Tyranny's style and reined in Lao Han's relentless forward motion, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate forthrightness and conviction! If you give up before you even start, you'll never catch his eye, and you'll die alone and Xinjie-less!"
"Who's going to die alone?!" Zhang Jiale couldn't stop the way his voice cracked in outrage, even as Huang Shaotian cackled on the other end of the line, clearly delighted by the reaction he'd obtained.
"Well it won't be me, not with my Wenzhou, so if I'm not going to die alone, and you won't even try to win Xinjie over, then surely it's you who will die alone right?"
"You're a horrible friend," the shriek from the other end of the phone might have hurt his ears, but Zhang Jiale was still pleased with himself, mentally evening the score in his head.
"How could you say that! How could you malign my character like this, when I've been so kind to you, when I've offered you my incredible matchmaking services, matchmaking services that cost people a lot of money, and that I'm offering to you for free, who's a bad friend—!" Huang Shaotian's voice cuts off and another voice sounds, a little muffled, but clearly amused.
"The matchmaking services that got you banned from Tiny Herb for two months?" Yu Wenzhou's voice is rich with laughter, and endless fondness, it makes Zhang Jiale want to retch, but he refrains, Huang Shaotian probably wouldn't even hear the taunt if Yu Wenzhou is in his vicinity.
"Captain don't tease," Huang Shaotian's plaintive whine is nauseating and Zhang Jiale considers hanging up, he won't get anything else coherent out of his friend now, but then Huang Shaotian's focus snaps back to him. "Jiale, Jiale, don't worry, don't listen to my captain's slander, I'll send you a spreadsheet, I'll send you a bunch of spreadsheets, and you'll see that I am amazing at matchmaking and it's not my fault that Wang Jiexi's stupid face looks like that and that he's also blind and weird—!"
The call ends abruptly and Zhang Jiale pulls up his emails to silence his notifications before he forgets. He suspects that he will be receiving an onslaught of emails shortly, and he doesn't want to earn Zhang Xinjie's ire if his phone pings during training. Even if there's a thrill to having Zhang Xinjie's unimpressed stare trained on him, warning clear in his eyes, captivating, and impossible to ignore, daring him to disobey—
Zhang Jiale lets his face hit his pillow with a groan, an attempt to smother himself, or at least smother the thoughts out of his head. Zhang Jiale didn't notice himself drifting off, sleep claiming him quickly.
"Jiale?" The call of his name and the tap against his door startles him awake and he stumbles to his door to find Zhang Xinjie stood outside, hand raised as if to knock again. He feels himself being appraised, the dimness of his room constrasting the bright lights in the hall, the rumpled state of his clothing, he can feel Zhang Xinjie's eyes taking him in, and he struggles not to shiver under the weight of his gaze. "Were you napping?"
"No…not intentionally." Zhang Jiale abandons his brief instinct to lie, Zhang Xinjie already knows that he's been napping. He watches as his brows furrow, his lips pulling into a frown, and Zhang Jiale wonders what fresh hell he's been put in when his first thought is that he ought to kiss the little crease that had formed on Zhang Xinjie's forehead.
"This contributes to your poor sleep at night, which is why you stay up too late on your phone." Zhang Jiale expects to be chided, everyone knows that Zhang Xinjie is meticulous with his own schedule, he knew that even before he'd ever met Zhang Xinjie properly. What he hadn't expected, was that Zhang Xinjie was equally concerned with the health and habits of his teammates.
He's watched him drop dental floss in Song Qiying's bag, produce first aid supplies out of seemingly nowhere, wordlessly hold out a pack of lozenges before he realises his throat is sore, and of course, his nightly visits to Zhang Jiale's room. He also hadn't expected to like it so much. He'd expected to feel stifled by it, judged even, but the now-familiar sight of Zhang Xinjie at his door, two mugs of tea in hand, one for himself, the other made to Zhang Jiale's tastes, it almost overwhelms him with how much he enjoys Zhang Xinjie chiding him, enjoys how much his vice-captain cares.
"Ah Xiao Zhang, you don't need to worry about me, I'll sleep fine, there's no sense in worrying." The diminutive slips out unexpectantly, and Zhang Jiale curses himself, running through the best way to apologise, before he takes in Zhang Xinjie's reaction.
It's rare to catch Zhang Xinjie off-guard, he arranges his life so that he knows what's coming at almost any time, and he prepares himself with a response to everything else. And yet, here's Zhang Xinjie, caught off-guard, eyes wide behind his glasses and Zhang Jiale studies him for a quick moment. His lips are slightly parted, as if he was planning on saying something, only for the train of thought to escape him, his gaze is focused on a spot away from Zhang Jiale, almost as if he's shy. Zhang Xinjie's cheeks are flushed, the colour fetching, creeping down his neck, the sight makes Zhang Jiale want.
"I only wanted to make sure you didn't miss dinner," Zhang Xinjie's eyes still refuse to meet his own, smug pride pools hot and sharp in his chest, having the upper hand, even for a fleeting moment, is heady.
"Thank you, you don't have to worry about me, but if you do, I like it, that you do." Zhang Xinjie nods, once, marking an end to the conversation before he leaves, heading towards the cafeteria. If Zhang Jiale wasn't mistaken, he'd almost think it was a retreat.
He pulls out his phone and sees that he was right, there are already seven emails from Huang Shaotian waiting for him, each one with several attachements, and each subject line bearing a variation of "Huang Shaotian's brilliant matchmaking spreadsheets that guarentee you success."
Before he would've scoffed and ignored them, but Zhang Xinjie's reaction…it makes him think, it makes him hope, and so he opens the first email and starts going through the spreadsheet.
Xiao Zhang. Xiao Zhang. Xiao Zhang. The moment replays in his head at the most inoppotune moments and Zhang Xinjie sighs, the gust of air harsh in his frustration. He's supposed to be using this time to go through his expense spreadsheets to make sure the formulae are all working the way they should and that nothing needs to be updated.
But Huang Shaotian hasn't sent him his latest spreadsheet formats, and while Zhang Xinjie doesn't need them, while they weren't promised by a certain time, he finds himself reluctant to start without his friend's insights, even if it means wasting time.
Even while the lull has him lingering on Zhang Jiale's words from a few weeks ago. He sighs again, frowning at himself, chiding himself for lingering on something that clearly wasn't meant like that. Zhang Jiale is a senior player to nearly everyone in the league at this point, it's not surprising, the diminuitive, Zhang Xinjie is nearly certain he's called Song Qiying Xiao Song before. It doesn't mean anything, no matter how much he wants it to—
Which is the crux of the issue.
Not so much Zhang Jiale saying the words, not the fact he's continued to call him Xiao Zhang like it's nothing, like it doesn't make him flush and lose the thread of his thoughts. It's obvious enough that Han Wenqing is raising his eyebrows at him, able to see right through him and while he usually finds it comforting to be known, the fact that his captain knows just how much Zhang Jiale affects him only makes him flush harder.
It would be easier to let it go if it didn't seem almost…calculated at times. Zhang Xinjie is used to being scrutinised, by opponents, by the press, by tutors, he's intimately aware of the sensation. Which means it's easy to recognise the way Zhang Jiale watches him, gaze intense, as if he's taking note of every reaction, filing them away for…something, he doesn't know what, the final piece is missing and—!
The cheerful ping of his notifications pulls him out of his thoughts and brings his attention back to the task at hand. He notes with relief that the email is from Huang Shaotian, and he opens it, pleased for the distraction, pleased that his arbitary restriction has been resolved. Once the spreadsheet is open however, he frowns, it's not the one he sent Huang Shaotian a few weeks ago to review, this one is far more chaotic, and the subject isn't expense-related.
It's a plan, heavily edited and criticised at some key junctures, but a plan nonetheless, entirely focused on how Zhang Jiale ought to ask him out.
Ask him out.
Ask him out.
Zhang Xinjie combs through the sheets with razor-sharp precision, previous task discarded, something that would usually irritate him, but with this to focus on, he finds he doesn't mind. He finds that it's not an accident, that it's not thoughtless, that Zhang Jiale's cheerful, teasing, fond, calls of Xiao Zhang, are entirely calculated, each of his reactions meticulously recorded, a victory tally.
The knowledge cements itself in Zhang Xinjie, soothes away all his uncertainty, and replaces it with crystal-sharp clarity on what he wants to do next. Knowing that Zhang Jiale has been deliberate in his approach, planned out each step, it sparks something in him, makes him want to push back, to see how Zhang Jiale adapts when his plans are disrupted, how he might look, flushed and caught off guard. Zhang Xinjie smiles at the thought.
Another email pings in from Huang Shaotian, this one a rambling mess of panicked apologies and pleas to not rat him out to Zhang Jiale.
His reply is precise and simple.
Don't tell him I know, and I want my own spreadsheet.
The response he gets is an animated Troubling Rain saluting his agreement, and Zhang Xinjie can picture Huang Shaotian's elated grin.
"Zhang Jiale won't know what hit him," Zhang Xinjie thinks, and lets the thought warm him through before turning to his new task with a singular focus.