Work Text:
Arlecchino doesn't mind when her duties have her traveling to distant nations, enjoys the experience even, but being in Snezhnaya truly is a different delight. The flames coursing through her blood render her immune to the bitter cold, she gets to check up on the affairs of the children in the Snezhnograd base of the House of the Hearth, and she gets to enjoy the view of the aurora from the windows of her private quarters with a cup of tea in hand.
Speaking of tea, there is another delight she allows herself to indulge in: the company of a select few of her coworkers around a tea table.
She takes pride in being punctual, so she isn't surprised at being the first to show up to the tea party. The dignified host of these gatherings, Sandrone, takes the rimecurrant cake Arlecchino brought and says she appreciates her arriving on time—complaining about the others always being late in the same breath, naturally—as Arlecchino takes a seat. She takes the cup of piping hot tea that Sandrone serves her and breathes in the delightful scent of it. Sandrone has excellent taste when it comes to blends.
Rosalyne is out on a mission so they are one short of a core member, but they have the Captain and Tartaglia as additional guests today to make up for it. Tartaglia's discipline in battle doesn't extend to his personal life too much, and Columbina is Columbina, so it's no surprise that they haven't arrived here on the dot, but Capitano not being here yet is unusual. Arlecchino has never seen him be late for anything, there must be a reason for his absence. Perhaps something has come up and he won't be able to show up. Arlecchino certainly hopes that's not the case, she has a private meeting with him after the tea party to discuss a collaboration between House of the Hearth and Capitano's troops, she would hate to have it cancelled on such short notice.
She and Sandrone are allowed some time of pleasant chatter before a few quick raps at the door interrupt them.
“Enter,” Sandrone calls out, and in comes Tartaglia, looking like he rushed to get here. He looks around expectantly for a moment, as if searching for someone. Arlecchino knows he most certainly is.
“Hello there!” He greets them, undeterred by the absence of the person he's looking for. “I’m not too late, am I?”
“You’re ten minutes late, but for your standards, it can even be considered early. Congratulations on not being the latest, I guess,” Sandrone says, pouring him a cup of tea and preparing a slice of cake for him. Despite its sardonic package, it's an actual compliment from Sandrone. She must be in a good mood today.
“That's right, I even arrived before Capitano! That's gotta count for something!” Tartaglia says, taking the backhanded compliment in full stride and managing to make it about Capitano at the same time. How predictable.
Tartaglia then takes the seat across Arlecchino, positioning himself so that he's sitting between the only two vacant seats except Columbina’s designated spot near Sandrone, guaranteeing that Capitano will end up sitting next to him. Smart. He's learning. Last time Capitano and him attended, they were seated at opposite ends of the table and Tartaglia spent the entirety of the party sending sad glances to the other side like a lost puppy. Even Arlecchino pitied him.
“Hmph, I hate to admit it but you're right," Sandrone stirs her tea thoughtfully." Where is Capitano? He isn't one to make a habit of showing up late, unlike some."
Another knock comes at the door. Tartaglia perks up where he's sitting like an excited dog. However, Arlecchino knows by the style of knocking that he is bound to be disappointed.
The door opens and Columbina floats in with her usual serene expression.
“Hello,” she greets them and takes her seat beside Sandrone.
“What took you so long?” Sandrone says with half-hearted annoyance, crossing her arms.
“I was busy trying to determine which song suits the acoustics of my bathroom best as I showered. You can smell the shampoo if you want proof,” she leans forward and offers Sandrone the top of her head.
Sandrone scoffs and flicks Columbina’s head with her finger. “Don't be ridiculous, I don't need convincing to believe that you were late for such an absurd reason.”
Columbina straightens up with a smile, and Sandrone’s cheeks blush a faint red.
It's interesting to see how much Sandrone has mellowed out ever since she and Columbina got together recently. Sure, they argue still, Sandrone’s harsh words unable to stick to Columbina’s thick layer of unbothered aura, but their default state has settled into a comfortable banter. Arlecchino is glad for them, although it was a lot of fun watching them dance around each other, embarrassed and panicked on Sandrone’s side, and clumsy and clueless on Columbina’s. Arlecchino almost misses it.
“I came across Capitano on the way here,” Columbina turns to them. “He said an urgent matter came up and he regrettably won't be able to join us today. He sends his deepest apologies.”
Tartaglia deflates like a burst balloon in his seat, disappointment clear as day on his features.
“He also said that while it is urgent, it should not take too long, so he will still be able to attend your business meeting,” Columbina tells Arlecchino.
The news changes little for Arlecchino, so she doesn't mind. “Very well, I shall see him later.”
“Hmph, I would give him hell for ditching us if he weren't exceptionally well mannered,” Sandrone mutters as she pours Columbina tea. “I don't invite just anyone to my tea parties, he should cherish it.”
“You didn't invite Tartaglia, at first, though,” Columbina points out.
“My, is there a security gap in the tea party invitations, Sandrone?” Arlecchino teases, just to fluster her.
Sandrone splutters. “O—Of course not! I allowed it out of my own magnanimity only because it was Capitano who brought him along, and because I saw how much Tartaglia was enjoying himself during my wonderful tea party. Am I wrong, Tartaglia?”
They all look at Tartaglia, who is absentmindedly picking at his rimecurrant cake with his fork, chin resting in his palm. He looks absolutely miserable.
The three women look at each other as an awkward moment passes.
The silence makes Tartaglia snap out of his reverie. “Huh? Sorry, what did you say? I spaced out for a moment, apologies.”
Columbina looks at Sandrone. “Why is he sad?”
“It’s because he was hoping to see Capitano,” Sandrone explains.
“Hey, I wasn't—Well, I was simply—” Tartaglia stammers, cheeks reddening.
“Ohhh,” Columbina says as if having an epiphany. “He must like him a lot. Does he have a crush on him?”
“It’s not my place to say, but the answer is quite obvious.”
“H—Hey! Don't talk about me like I'm not here!” Tartaglia says, face now beet red.
“Well, speak for yourself, then,” Sandrone turns to him. “What is it with you and Capitano?”
Tartaglia pauses a moment. “Well, I— It's just that… I admire him a lot, because he's very strong and capable, but he never uses his power for cruelty. He is very responsible and caring of others, and unafraid to tread his own path. He stands out amongst others with his determination and unwavering faith in his principles, and when he speaks, it makes you feel like—”
He abruptly stops, realizing that everyone else in the room is staring at him, Sandrone with creased brows and resignation, Columbina with a tilted head and confusion, and Arlecchino herself with a slightly quirked eyebrow and interest.
Tartaglia blinks a few times, as if what he said just occurred to him, then he groans, leaning his head against his hands on the table.
“Fine! I like him,” he admits, voice slightly muffled. “I don't think he likes me that way, though.”
Arlecchino wasn't expecting the conversation to evolve in the way it did, but it's a welcome surprise nonetheless. It had been clear to her for a long time that Tartaglia was interested in Capitano romantically, yet it's the first time they have gotten a proper confirmation from Tartaglia himself on the matter. To be honest, Arlecchino had chalked it up to a childish crush of Tartaglia's, but hearing him talk about Capitano has made her realize there is more to it than meets the eye. It's clear to her now that his admiration of Capitano is based not on immature attraction, but a very astute understanding and appreciation of Capitano’s character. Arlecchino is genuinely impressed.
Sandrone takes her teacup in hand, pondering. “Well, leave it to you to pine for someone way out of your league, Tartaglia. I'm not saying that to insult you, it's just that Capitano himself is in a league of his own.”
Tartaglia lifts his head and looks at Sandrone pleadingly. “So you don't think he likes me back?”
Sandrone frowns. “I mean, it's hard to say with Capitano. He's a man of few words, and he's very, how should I say, formal. I've never seen him talk about himself, let alone what kind of person he would be interested in.”
“I see,” Tartaglia leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I thought it was just me he wouldn't speak much about himself to, but it seems it's just how he is with everyone.”
“I would say so, yes. Although, who knows, maybe he really is into annoying gingers, so don't lose hope just yet,” Sandrone says flippantly, but Arlecchino knows she means well.
Tartaglia nods, looking thoughtful. It doesn't seem like Sandrone’s distinct brand of encouragement has lifted his spirits.
“Maybe we should ask him if he likes Tartaglia,” Columbina chimes in.
“That's a horrible idea,” Sandrone scoffs.
Columbina hums. “It worked for us, though.”
“T—That’s— It's because—” Sandrone snaps, flustered. “It wouldn't have worked if you weren't lucky enough that I liked you back!”
“Hm, then maybe Capitano should ask Tartaglia if he likes him. Then the answer will definitely be yes.”
“Columbinaaa! That's not how it works!”
Arlecchino watches with amusement as the conversation devolves into a pointless yet entertaining argument between the two. They will never change, dating or not.
Arlecchino has kept her silence on the topic of the Captain's thoughts on Tartaglia, because she already knows the answer. It's true, Capitano doesn't talk about his feelings, but if one knows where to look, a clear picture emerges, a pattern shown by his actions.
The straightening of his shoulders whenever Tartaglia enters the room, the slight cant of his head towards Tartaglia whenever the younger Harbinger speaks, the way Tartaglia's laugh makes his fingers clench.
The fact that he always knows to which nation Tartaglia's duty has sent him this time, whether he's in Snezhnaya at the moment.
Him talking about the other Harbingers with Arlecchino sometimes, but never mentioning his personal opinion on Tartaglia, as if disclosing it would give too much away.
That time when Tartaglia went missing in action for two weeks and Arlecchino overheard Capitano asking the Director for permission to lead the rescue team, even though there were other capable people around, even though that day he had a very important mission for which he had been preparing for months. When Arlecchino ended up being assigned to lead that mission and Capitano found her after the dust settled, asking about the well-being of Tartaglia as if he couldn't visit him in the infirmary himself, body rigid and voice tight.
There is no doubt about it. Capitano cares for Tartaglia in his own subtle way.
No need to tell this to Tartaglia, though. It’s not her place to intervene, they will surely find their way to each other in due time, just like Sandrone and Columbina did. Arlecchino only hopes that it will be half as entertaining.
Suddenly, an idea finds its way to her head, brilliant in its deviousness.
She thinks of her meeting with Capitano after the tea party as she takes a moment to formulate her plan, and when she has calculated the risks and rewards, she makes her next move.
"If you ask me," she turns to Tartaglia. "I would say that you should change your perspective."
The other two are too engrossed in their argument to notice her talking, just as she expected.
Tartaglia turns to her, surprised. "How do you mean?"
Arlecchino folds her hands on the table. "You are a direct person by nature, Tartaglia, and you expect honesty from the people around you in return. Has it occurred to you that it may not be the case for everyone?"
How ironic that these words come from her, who is about to lie to his face for her own amusement. Well, can't say she didn't warn him.
Tartaglia frowns thoughtfully. "You're saying that Capitano isn't telling the truth?"
"I'm saying that there is always a hidden meaning behind what Capitano says. If you don't believe me, put it to the test the next time you talk to him. Instead of taking what he says at face value, try to decipher what he actually means to say. The results might surprise you."
Tartaglia's eyebrows rise as realization dawns on his face. "I see… I never thought of it that way. I will try it the next time I see him. Thank you for the advice."
Arlecchino brings her teacup to her lips to hide her wicked smile.
"The pleasure is all mine."
When Capitano enters Arlecchino’s office that evening, Arlecchino is ready for the next stage of her plan.
"Welcome, Captain," she greets him, gesturing towards a padded chair. "Glad to see you could make it. I hope your work hasn't been too much of a trouble?"
"Thank you," Capitano replies politely, taking a seat. "It was urgent, but not exactly difficult to deal with."
"Good to hear," Arlecchino replies as she brings a tea tray to the table. "Seeing that you were unable to attend the earlier tea party, I brewed us a pot to make up for it."
"You're too kind," Capitano says, the perfect gentleman as always. Arlecchino almost feels bad for what she's about to do.
"It's no trouble," Arlecchino assures him as she pours each of them a cup. "It's a shame we couldn't see you at the tea party, though. It's not the same without your involvement."
Then she delivers the first strike just as Capitano reaches out for his teacup.
"Tartaglia missed you."
Capitano’s fingers freeze half an inch away from the handle.
Arlecchino suppresses a smile, keeping her face perfectly neutral. Like a fly to a spider's web…
Capitano gathers himself and takes his teacup after his momentary reaction. "So it seems."
Arlecchino takes her own tea in hand. "Any comments on that?"
Capitano’s grip around the handle is tight. "No."
Arlecchino hums. "Tartaglia did have comments, though. When asked about you, he told us how fearless and noble you are, how much he admires you."
Capitano is silent for a while, still as stone.
"I'm lucky to have attained his admiration," he finally says, voice giving nothing away, which is in and of itself a tell.
"And what of his affection?" Arlecchino looks directly into the darkness of his mask. Strike two.
This time Capitano is thoroughly stunned into silence.
Arlecchino traces the rim of her teacup with her fingertip, and speaks softly. "Forgive me for inquiring about a private matter that doesn't concern me, but as someone who considers you a friend, I couldn't allow myself to watch you miss a chance at happiness.
"As a mortal, I can't begin to understand the way an immortal like you would think, but I know from experience that life is fickle, and the chances we have are so very limited. Time flows deceptively fast, and something you thought was constant can be gone the next time you reach for it.
"So, Captain," she finishes, "Don't forget that your time to act is limited, and don't let this chance pass you by."
After a moment of consideration, Capitano puts down his tea and lets out a weary sigh. "You're right. If you'll allow me to be honest, I had feared that I was only imagining the reciprocation, or that even if it was there it was of a shallower nature than mine."
"I wouldn't worry about that, if I were you," Arlecchino crosses her legs and leans onto her fist. "I could tell you more, but I have a feeling you will enjoy the discovery more if you do it yourself."
This time when Capitano speaks, she can hear the small smile in his voice. "I see. Thank you for assuaging my worries."
Arlecchino smiles. "Glad to be of service. I have one more piece of advice, if you'd like to hear it."
"Please, feel free," Capitano urges her to go on, and she delivers the final strike.
"Tartaglia appreciates honesty and directness, so I would suggest that you be clear with your words. If he knows what your intention is, communication will be easier. Tell him exactly what you mean, and you'll have no problems."
Capitano nods. "Fair enough. I will keep it in mind. Thank you."
"Happy to be of service," she takes a sip of her tea.
And just like that, Arlecchino’s plan is in motion. She is exploiting her colleagues' trust in her for her own enjoyment, yes, but she also encouraged Capitano to confess to Tartaglia, so she is helping them at the same time too. No matter, she's sure that they will figure out what she did in a couple hours at most. And if they don't realize, Arlecchino will come clean about her plan once they get together and reveal she made them experience a couple misunderstandings. That's all that will result in, realistically.
After all, how far can these two take a simple misunderstanding?
The next day, Tartaglia exits his private room in Glupov to attend to a few personal matters in Snezhnograd. First, he will collect the dress he had commissioned for Tonia's birthday from the tailor, then he will drop by the pharmacy to buy headache medicine for his father, and lastly he will check the toy store for model train tracks that Anthon and Teucer requested. They already have enough train track pieces for the model train, but they insisted they need more to replicate the entire Snezhnayan railroad system, and who is Tartaglia to deny the little rascals?
Head busy with chores, he almost collides into someone as he rounds the corner.
"Ah, so sorry—" he starts to apologize, but his words run dry the moment he realizes who he's talking to.
Here Capitano is, standing right in front of him. Tartaglia's heart almost bursts out of his chest with excitement.
"Why hello, Captain! What a sight for sore eyes!" he exclaims with joy.
Capitano is silent, which isn't too surprising.
"I heard you had to attend to an urgent business yesterday, hope it wasn't too much trouble?" he asks, undeterred.
Capitano doesn't say anything. Okay, now it's a bit awkward.
"Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" he scrambles. "Light snowfall. My favorite kind of snowfall that isn't heavy. Hahaha, ha…"
Capitano is dead silent. He's just standing there, stone still. Tartaglia can feel his gaze boring into him. Why does he keep looking at him? Is he angry? Is he asleep right now? Would he fall over if Tartaglia poked him in the chest?
"W-well, I'd better be off," he tries to wrap up this awkward excuse of a conversation, "I have some business downtown and—"
"I would like to take you out," Capitano suddenly says.
It's as if a train has hit Tartaglia at full speed.
He tries to make sense of what Capitano has said with his stupefied brain. Capitano wants to take him out? On a date? Capitano likes him? Can it really be true? Has Tartaglia's biggest dream become reality—
Wait.
What if this isn't what Capitano means? Arlecchino said there is always a hidden meaning behind Capitano’s words. What if there's a cryptic message behind what he just said? He said wants to "take him out," right after staring at him silently while Tartaglia tried to talk to him. Does that mean… Capitano wants to kill him? That can't be true, right?
"By take me out, you mean..?"
"I'm aware it's a step further than the spar you've been requesting, but I thought you would enjoy this too," Capitano replies, almost hesitant, and everything falls into place in Tartaglia's head.
Capitano is offering him a fight to death, a chance to cross swords with him like Tartaglia had been requesting, but with higher stakes, because he thought Tartaglia would enjoy it better than a regular spar. This is better than Tartaglia's wildest dreams! How thrilling to come face to face with a Il Capitano himself in a battle, dancing with the blades with the gaping maw of death below them waiting to claim them with the tiniest slip, the tension, the excitement! Tartaglia is shivering with delight at the mere thought of it!
He grins wide and bright. "You sure know the way to my heart, Captain. I accept."
Capitano lets out a breath, as if relieved. "I'm glad. Would tomorrow evening be suitable for you?"
"I've been dreaming of this for ages, even if it wasn't, I'd clear my schedule for this, don't you worry," he winks at Capitano with a smile.
"I-I see," Capitano says, sounding almost bashful. "Then I shall pick you up tomorrow at six, if that's alright with you."
"Fine by me," Tartaglia confirms, and starts walking away, turning his steps backwards to face Capitano a final time and call out, "Pick a nice place!"
After all, the place they fight to death must be appropriately scenic, right?
Tartaglia spends the next twenty four hours doing errands and getting his affairs in order. Well, he's not planning on dying, but being prepared doesn't hurt. He already prepared a will on Pulcinella's insistence a few years back, and his family will inherit everything in the event of his death. The only thing he needs to do, therefore, is to pen a letter to the Tsaritsa explaining the cause of his death, which he then slips into his will. He does all this with cheerful formality, because there is no way he will die by Capitano’s hand. Tartaglia has a plan, you see. People tend to underestimate him, Capitano included, and he intends to use it to his advantage. He will purposefully start slow by holding back, making Capitano drop his guard, then when the opportunity presents itself, he will strike where it hurts and bring Capitano to his knees. But he won't deal the killing blow, oh no. He will spare Capitano’s life, and he will finally see there is more to Tartaglia than meets the eye. After establishing himself as strong enough to beat Capitano, perhaps he will finally notice him..? Tartaglia will do whatever it takes for the mere chance of it.
As the hour approaches, Tartaglia starts to get ready. He's been doing some light drills as warm-up to get ready for combat without tiring himself out, so no problem on the fighting side. As for self presentation, he takes a bath so he goes up to face Capitano fresh and clean. Then he starts fretting about his clothing. What does one wear to a fight to death with his crush? He needs to find the balance between practical and stylish. Maybe the black turtleneck and white pants he saves for special occasions? No, he won't be able to move properly with those fancy pants, it's better if he pairs the silver tactical pants with the turtleneck. Much better. His white Fatui overcoat so he can fling it to the side dramatically, hell yes. His black winter gloves, and boots, and… Should he wear his red scarf? Flinging the coat to the side is cool and all, but doing it to the scarf as well might make it seem too much. Although, his mom would kill him if she knew he went out in the evening cold without a scarf. Screw it, scarf is staying, he doesn't want to get a cold before they even lift their blades.
He debates if he should do something with his hair, but decides against it. It will get mussed up in the fight anyway, and it will look even worse afterwards if he tries to put it in shape using pomade or something. His usual hair is fine. As a final touch, he applies the red eyeliner he had gotten his hands on on a mission in Liyue. There. It will go nicely with blood if some gets splattered on his face.
Just as the clock strikes six, Capitano comes to pick him up. As Tartaglia gets out of the room and locks it, he can feel Capitano’s eyes on him. When he turns to him, Capitano finally says "You look good," with a strained voice. He almost sounds shy.
"Why thank you, Captain," he beams at him. Going all out was definitely the right choice. As he gives Capitano a once over, he realizes that his clothes are different too, of a finer make than his usual combat clothes. Is he that confident that Tartaglia won't be able to land a hit on him? Big mistake, his pretty clothes will be torn to shreds by Tartaglia's blades.
"You're looking mighty fine yourself," he adds as they fall into step together. "Where are you taking me for this most special occasion?"
"I was thinking of having dinner at Pavlin Restaurant first," Capitano says.
Dinner? At Pavlin Restaurant, the most luxurious dining establishment in Snezhnograd, the one you need to make a reservation three months in advance unless you're a Harbinger? Oh, he gets it now. Capitano is taking him there as his last meal before dying! How thoughtful of him! Well, it's also a challenge, insinuating to Tartaglia that he will defeat him, but Tartaglia isn't one to be cowed by such intimidation tactics. He will enjoy his dinner with Capitano, and afterwards he will defeat him in battle and prove himself to him.
Tartaglia holds back a gleeful chuckle. It's almost like they're on a real date!
If someone had told him two days ago that he would be on a date with Tartaglia today, Capitano would think they were delusional; yet here he is, sitting across Tartaglia in the finest restaurant of Snezhnograd, having a pleasant dinner. Pavlin Restaurant is frequented by various Harbingers, so they have a special table secluded from the regular customers reserved for them, with floor length windows overlooking the glittering city view. Capitano appreciates the privacy, it would be quite the hassle if tabloids caught them having a private dinner together. On the flip side, however, being alone with Tartaglia isn't exactly helping his nerves either. He hasn't pursued anyone romantically for centuries, so he has become quite rusty with the matters of the heart, but he wants to do the best he can with Tartaglia, to provide him with a pleasant evening out, and if the young man wants it as well, his partnership.
Despite his anxiousness, however, so far they have had an enjoyable time together, talking about this and that, their current Harbinger responsibilities, the happenings in the city, their personal lives, shifting from topic to topic with ease. Tartaglia is a good conversation partner, confident, witty and humorous, easing Capitano’s rigid awkwardness and helping him loosen up as well. The spark that finds its way to Tartaglia's eyes whenever he mentions his siblings makes Capitano’s heart soar with affection, reassuring him once again that asking Tartaglia out was the right decision. He is grateful to Arlecchino for providing him with the right push to act on his feelings. The more he thinks about it, the more it becomes clear that there is nothing else he would rather do right now than spend his time in Tartaglia's company in an intimate setting. For the first time in a very long while, he feels genuinely… happy.
After Tartaglia tells a story about his youngest sibling trying to domesticate a fluffahog that visits their garden, they fall into a comfortable silence, watching the warm glow of the city below them.
"This is nice," Tartaglia says, chin resting on his palm. "Very casual, considering what we're going to do."
Capitano reaches for his wine glass, intrigued. "And that is..?"
Tartaglia sends him an amused smile. "Acting coy, are we? I'm talking about the moment I'll pin you down and show you what I'm made of."
Capitano almost chokes on his wine. He coughs a few times into his fist, wondering if he heard Tartaglia right. "P-pardon?"
Tartaglia smirks lazily. "I'm saying I can't wait to have you on your knees, begging for mercy."
Capitano can feel heat rush to his head in an instant, almost making steam rise from his head visibly. Oh. So Tartaglia wants to have sex with him. Well, there's nothing wrong with that, but the way he phrased it has left Capitano speechless. He had never expected that Tartaglia would be so blunt about such intimate topics. Yet another way the Eleventh keeps him on his toes.
"I-I see," he stammers. "Didn't know you wanted to do… that."
"Well, of course I do," Tartaglia says, "I hadn't thought about going all the way with you until yesterday, but now that the opportunity has presented itself, I can't wait to cross swords with you."
'Going all the way with him' Capitano can understand, but crossing 'swords'… Capitano can feel himself blush beet red, and he doesn't even have a proper face to blush. Are these common phrases to use these days? He's been out of the dating game a few centuries too long, he has no clue. He tries to get a grip. It's not like he's opposed to having sex on the first date, he's just caught off guard, that's all. That, and the thought of being intimate with Tartaglia tonight makes him feel lightheaded. He never thought they would go that far in such a short time.
"I didn't expect you to be so bold about this," he admits.
Tartaglia takes his wine in hand, swirling it. "People tend to think that way about me, they think I'm all talk. They underestimate me, though. They assume I can't come out on top. But who knows, maybe I will be the one to take the upper hand and bury my blade to the hilt inside you tonight," he takes a sip of his wine, maintaining eye contact with Capitano over the glass.
Capitano almost combusts spontaneously where he sits. Tartaglia really does want to 'take' him, then. Capitano is trying not to panic. He hasn't been with anyone for ages, let alone in that position. Will he be enough to satisfy Tartaglia? What is he even supposed to do while Tartaglia does most of the work, just lie there? He hasn't even done any preparation!
"We'll see when the time comes," he says diplomatically.
"Fine by me," Tartaglia acquiesces. "I have one request, though."
Capitano is sweating bullets right now. He braces himself for the impact, and asks, "Yes..?"
"Tonight I will be giving it my all, so don't go easy on me either," Tartaglia smirks devilishly.
Capitano swallows hard. "I will try my best."
After he manages to get through the dinner without having a heart attack, they exit the restaurant.
Capitano turns to Tartaglia. "I want to take you somewhere." There is a special place outside Snezhnograd with a beautiful view of the city. It's a place Capitano visits from time to time to calm his mind and appreciate the scenery, so he hopes Tartaglia will enjoy that place as well.
Tartaglia smiles mischievously. "Now we're talking. Lead the way."
Encouraged by Tartaglia's enthusiastic response, Capitano leads them out of Snezhnograd and up a deserted mountain path, until they reach a clearing surrounded by pine trees at the top. The northwest edge of the clearing ends with a steep cliff downwards, providing them a spectacular view of the city glimmering warmly despite the cold night, the pale tree whose branches stretch out into the sky overlooking their wintry homeland. They're high enough that they can make out the frigid northern sea just over the towering spires of Glupov, and the aurora paints the sky above them in magical hues of green and pink.
They stand at the edge and watch the scenery a while, admiring the view.
"It's beautiful," Tartaglia says after some time.
"It truly is," Capitano nods, and when he turns his head to Tartaglia, he finds him already looking his way.
Capitano’s breath gets stuck in his lungs. Tartaglia looks stunning under the bright colors of the aurora painting his hair, his face, reflecting off his eyes, which are locked onto Capitano with a quiet sort of focus. Forget the view, it's Tartaglia who is truly beautiful.
It's just that… there's something about his eyes that keeps Capitano on his guard. Tartaglia is watching him with a razor sharp concentration, his body still as a statue, as if ready to respond the moment Capitano makes a move. He is expecting Capitano to make a move, it dawns on him at last.
Capitano swallows, unsure how to proceed for a moment, but the sight of Tartaglia standing in front of him all pretty awakens a sudden urge to caress his cheek gently, so he reaches out to him slowly, giving him ample time to protest.
Tartaglia's bottomless blue eyes follow the approach of Capitano’s hand with the focus of a hawk.
Capitano’s hand gets closer to Tartaglia, closer, and the moment his fingertips are about to touch his cheek—
With lightning speed, Tartaglia moves, and Capitano's arm burns with a burst of hot pain.
The world stands still for a moment as Capitano’s head reels with shock and confusion.
He looks at his still outstretched arm. There's a cut on the forearm of his jacket, and a growing dark spot, warm and wet with blood.
Then he looks at Tartaglia, now standing a safe distance away from him, holding a small blade made of Hydro.
"You keep surprising me, Captain," Tartaglia says with a wondering half-smile, eyebrows raised, twirling the blade between his fingers. "Did you think you could just grab me by the neck like that? That's cheating, I'll have you know. I was expecting a proper fight."
His words pass through Capitano’s mind, their meanings unable to register like a foreign language.
"Did you just stab me?" he asks with disbelief.
"Come now, I just nicked you a little bit," Tartaglia says flippantly. "It's nothing compared to the injuries we'll sustain as we fight to death—"
"What are you talking about?" Capitano snaps with desperate, baffled frustration.
Tartaglia stops, regarding Capitano with furrowed brows. "The fight? The fight to death you offered me? The fight you brought me here for?"
Capitano merely stares at him, speechless. A moment of silence passes.
Tartaglia's face goes slack with realization. "Oh."
Capitano sits on his bed, sleeve pushed above his elbow, while Tartaglia stitches up the cut on his forearm beside him. The air between them is tense with awkwardness.
"So you thought it was all for a fight?" Capitano asks.
"Yeah," Tartaglia says, doing the final stitches on his arm. "And that was you asking me on a date?"
"Yes," Capitano says, voice tight.
They are silent as Tartaglia finishes the stitches. When he starts dressing the wound, Tartaglia speaks. "I'm sorry. At first I thought it was a date, but I assumed you meant something else because of Arlecchino’s advice."
Capitano freezes at the mention of the name. "…Arlecchino?"
"Yeah, she told me to look for hidden meanings in what you say. And I believed her like an idiot."
Dread spreads in Capitano’s chest. "And when was that, exactly?"
"Two days ago, at the tea party. Why?" he lifts his head up from his work to look at Capitano.
Capitano takes a deep breath. "After the tea party, she told me to tell you exactly what I mean."
Tartaglia's jaw drops with shock. "No way. You mean she…"
"Yes. I believe we have been set up," Capitano declares gravely.
Tartaglia looks genuinely betrayed. "She lied to me! Why would she do something like that..?"
"I don't know, but she has some explaining to do for exploiting our trust like that," Capitano says, and stands up, testing the dressing on his wound. "We can confront her tomorrow. In the meantime, it's best if we go our separate ways."
Tartaglia has the audacity to gape at him. "Wait, you don't want me around?" he scrambles with the supplies on his lap and stands up as well. "Why? I mean, I stabbed you, yes, but—"
Capitano is tired. He is heartbroken. His worst fear has come true, his feelings for Tartaglia aren't reciprocated, his attraction to Capitano only because of of his battle prowess. Tartaglia only wants to spend time with him because he wants to fight him. He doesn't care for Capitano the way Capitano does for him.
When he hasn't dared to dream for centuries, the feeling of his first dream in such a long time being absolutely crushed brings out a frustration he hasn't felt in ages.
"Because you won't find what you're looking for here, Tartaglia," he snaps, turning to face him. "I won't give you the fight you're looking for. That was the only reason you wanted to be close to me, was it not? Trying to spend time with me, talking to me, all because you wanted a chance to fight me. Well, you're wasting your time. It's clear our desires don't match, so it's best we end this ridiculous charade before we cause each other more pain."
When he's finished with his outburst, he feels terrible. Each breath he takes feels like fresh poison spreading through his veins. His chest hurts as if a hole has been torn through it, leaving his broken heart bare. And now he has spilled out all his bitterness, disappointment, all his dashed hopes onto Tartaglia, who is completely blameless. Who could fault him for not feeling affection for someone like Capitano?
Tartaglia stares at him, completely stunned. Capitano can't bear to look at him, so he turns his face away.
"Oh, Captain…" Capitano hears him approaching, then a gentle hand cradles the jaw of his mask, turning his face to Tartaglia's. "You really think I don't care for you..?"
Capitano’s jaw clenches involuntarily. Tartaglia is looking at him with such compassion in his eyes, as if gently approaching a wounded animal. Capitano is hesitant. Afraid. Afraid to hope again. What if it's not real? What if Tartaglia doesn't mean what he says? What if they fail to see eye to eye yet again?
Tartaglia opens his mouth to speak, then stops, considering. "You know what? I think we've had enough miscommunication to last us a long while. How about I show you how I feel in a way that can't be misunderstood?"
Capitano is silent, but doesn't protest, so Tartaglia takes it as his cue to reach for Capitano’s hand. He holds the gloveless, blackened hand in his, and brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss.
Capitano’s heart does a flip in his chest, suddenly feeling lighter, pumping blood into his veins with a fluttering excitement. Tartaglia kisses his knuckles one by one, the tips of his fingers, his open palm, showering him with affection. Then he goes lower and kisses the inside of his wrist, lips brushing against his racing pulse. Lower still, the bandaged wound gets a feather-light kiss as well, a small apology. It catches Capitano off-guard when Tartaglia drops his arm, stands up on his toes and plants a short little kiss on the metal jaw of his helmet.
"So, have I convinced you yet?" Tartaglia sends a hopeful smile up at him, still standing so very close.
"Thoroughly," Capitano says, still in a daze.
Tartaglia grins, giddy and excited, and in a moment his arms are around Capitano’s waist in a hug, cheek pressed against his chest.
"I love you. In case you still have some misgivings about that," he quips.
Capitano’s heart has turned light as a butterfly, flapping its wings joyously. He hugs Tartaglia back, resting his chin on his head. "I… I love you too."
They stay together like that, soaking in each other's presence, content to finally hold the other freely.
After a while, Tartaglia speaks. "Wait, so you thought I was flirting with you during dinner?"
"It was a bit more than flirting," Capitano says absentmindedly, and immediately regrets his words.
Tartaglia takes a step back to look up at him, hands still on Capitano’s waist. "What do you mean 'more than flirting?'"
Capitano’s stomach drops. "Nothing."
"Oh, it is something, I can tell," Tartaglia says, tone turning mischievous as an expectant grin spreads on his face. "Tell me."
Capitano extracts himself from Tartaglia's arms and busies himself with putting away the first aid kit. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Let me think, what was it that I said…" Tartaglia muses aloud, "I was challenging you, saying I will defeat you, was that it? How is that similar to flirting? I only said I would bring you to your—"
Tartaglia abruptly stops, and Capitano knows he's done for.
The Eleventh lets out a cackle so loud and shrill it almost rattles the windowpanes.
A few minutes later, when he's finally calmed down, Capitano is lying on his bed on his back, while Tartaglia is sitting beside him.
"You—You really thought I told you that—" Tartaglia wheezes, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Are you quite done?" Capitano grumbles half-heartedly, trying not to show how much he enjoys seeing Tartaglia laugh.
"Nope, I don't think I will ever get over it," Tartaglia snickers, then sighs. "You know what my favorite part about this whole misunderstanding is?"
"Do tell," Capitano says, intrigued despite himself.
"When you thought I was propositioning you, you didn't refuse me."
Capitano is quiet. Oh. He's in trouble, isn't he?
Before that thought properly registers in Capitano’s mind, Tartaglia climbs on top of Capitano, leaning over him with hands on either side of his head, his grin devilish. "Oh my, could it be that my dear Captain wants me to utterly ravish him?"
Capitano’s breath gets stuck in his lungs, heat rushing to his head. The mere thought of the act overwhelms his mind. "I— Maybe another time?" he tries.
Tartaglia's roguish grin softens into a sweet, adoring smile. "Alright," he says, then kisses Capitano’s helmet on the forehead. "We can take it slow, no worries. How about cuddling in the meantime?"
"That… sounds agreeable," Capitano relents. Cuddling sounds like a good place to start for him.
"Nice," Tartaglia says with satisfaction, then immediately flops down on Capitano, nuzzling into his chest.
Capitano’s heart swells with affection, beating so fast that Tartaglia no doubt can hear it through his chest. He hesitantly wraps an arm around Tartaglia's waist and buries his gloveless hand in his soft ginger locks.
Tartaglia sighs with contentment. "Tomorrow, we will make Arlecchino pay. As our first act as a couple."
Capitano’s heart skips a beat at the word. "So we are a couple?"
"Of course we are, are we not?" Tartaglia straightens up to look at him. "I mean, I assumed you wanted to be, because—"
"I do," Capitano tries to reassure him. "It's just that it's better if we establish that clearly, because if we don't, there might be—"
"—another misunderstanding!" Tartaglia finishes for him, aghast. "We could have had another right after the first one! How does this keep happening?! Is it because of me?"
"Blame it on Arlecchino," Capitano says humorously to reassure Tartaglia.
Tartaglia cracks a smile. "Oh, yeah. From now on, every misunderstanding is Arlecchino’s fault. Oh, she will pay for this!.. Tomorrow, though. I have a very comfortable pillow right now," he lies back down on Capitano’s chest.
Capitano feels himself smile as he cards his fingers through his hair, content. "Tomorrow."
Next morning, they find a bakery box full of berry cake outside the door and a note beside it.
I present you my deepest apologies for betraying your trust, I intended to bring you two together while taking a little entertainment out of it for myself as payment, but I never anticipated how far you two could take a simple misunderstanding. I hope you don't hold my little trick against me, and remember that despite the inconvenience it has caused, it's due to my advice that you are together now. I wish dear Captain a speedy recovery and remind the young Eleventh to always look for a motive behind unsolicited kindness (although I'm certain he won't accept any advice from me anymore).
Sincerely,
Arlecchino
P.S. You made me laugh for the first time in my life. Consider it an accomplishment.
Tartaglia crumples up the note and tosses it in the waste basket of Capitano’s desk, and they enjoy their cake breakfast together. As Capitano eats the piece of cake Tartaglia feeds him with a fork through the darkness of his mask, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can forgive Arlecchino.
All's well that ends well, as they say.