hi

He was getting worse at disguising it, Tartaglia thought with a quiet sigh. The poet's voice in the background was far from enough to distract him and the now-lukewarm food was starting to get cold. He needed to focus, to think of something else or he would mess it up sooner or later.

But he couldn't.

Not when Zhongli was… provoking him like that.

Tartaglia bit down at his gloved thumb and narrowed his eyes, almost hypnotized. He stared at Zhongli's hands, the way he handled the cup of tea, the chopsticks, and how his fingers drummed on top of the table along. Tartaglia stared at the way Zhongli's shoulders barely moved with each action, keeping his figure perfect at all times. He stared at the way Zhongli's chest rose with each breath and how perfect the lines of his jaw were. How Zhongli's lips curled into a soft, gentle smile while his eyes gleamed with entertainment at the poet's play. He stared at Zhongli, getting more and more helpless with each little thing he spotted.

Damn it.

He thought he had enough the day before, that their reunion was a fantastic time and plentiful to fulfill every single dream, wish and desire he had while he and Zhongli were apart.

But it wasn't. If anything, he was just craving the old man even more now.

It had been like this since the first time they fought against each other. Tartaglia could never forget the thrill he felt, how heavy each of Zhongli's blows were and how much it hurt him afterwards. Thinking back at it, it did make him look like a maniac or even a freak, but he didn't care. That was what made Zhongli light up the first spark inside Tartaglia's eyes — a pure, yet twisted romance.

The problem, however, was that the closer he got to Zhongli, the less… rough Zhongli got with him. It always felt like Zhongli was holding himself back or being too nice to him. Tartaglia was frustrated, to the point he thought of breaking up with him once. He needed that feeling again, that rush of adrenaline that only someone as strong as Zhongli could provide—

"Ajax!" Zhongli called and forced Tartaglia back into his senses. The ginger blinked, confused, and felt the soft napkin against his chin. "You were drooling," Zhongli sighed and sat back in his seat, "and I assume you didn't listen to what I was saying."

"I— ahm, I'm sorry, xiangsheng," Tartaglia lowered his head and wiped off the corner of his mouth, his cheeks faintly warm now. He clenched his fingers around the napkin and looked up at his concerned partner with a sheepish smile. "Could you repeat? Please?"

"Very well," Zhongli shook his head, but spared the other man from the scolding. Tartaglia thanked that, aware that he wouldn't be able to explain himself behaving like this. "I asked if you planned anything else for later. We've visited nearly every corner of Liyue since your arrival at this point."

"'Planned'?" Tartaglia repeated quietly. There were some things, indeed. A walk by the harbor, a few stores he would like to visit and places he wanted to take Zhongli too — even if they had already visited them a thousand times before. However, there was something else at Tartaglia's mind, something more urgent.

He couldn't waste the chance that was being presented to himself.

After a brief second, Tartaglia smiled and pushed himself back into his seat, nodding. Screw the rest of his plans for the afternoon, Tartaglia thought, he knew where he had to take Zhongli to.

"Yes, I did. But I need to let you know I got a little selfish this time… as a little treat for being such a good date these past days," he winked.

Zhongli chuckled at the charm, seemingly more at ease that Tartaglia started acting like himself again. "It's only fair I show some retribution. I've been nothing but a terrible host so far, after all."

"That's not true ~ I came all the way here to see you, after all."

"But you are the one planning all of our encounters and seem to know the city better than I ever could. It's a truly impressive feat, Ajax," Zhongli insisted on the praise. "Do tell, what is it that you have in mind?"

"Finish your meal first, xiangsheng," Tartaglia said as he served Zhongli another cup of tea, "leave it as a surprise for now."

Despite his words, Tartaglia himself could barely wait for them to leave the restaurant. His leg kept bouncing under the table and his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Time seemed to move slower than natural and he never felt so impatient — but he had to managed it, not only for the sake of his own craving, but for Zhongli's as well.

When they finally left the restaurant, it took him the last bits of self control to not drag Zhongli by his hand. He should pace it comfortably, keep the nice atmosphere and continue to spoil his xiangsheng rotten like he deserved.

"Can you tell me where are we going now, Ajax?" Zhongli broke the silence after a while, a sweet amount of time taken by each of his steps. He looked around, noticing how the buzz of the harbor was slowly being left behind them. The atmosphere, slowly but surely, shifted to the tranquility of the fields around Liyue. "If you didn't tell me you had planned this, I'd assume we wandered into a stray path."

"We may have, yes," Tartaglia admitted, kicking a small patch of a grass and stopping a few steps ahead. "But I wanted it to be just the two of us, xiangsheng."

"Oh?" Zhongli cocked his head to the side and watched the other man stroll left and right, circling the same spot. "And why is that? I assume a bedroom would be more fitting for—"

"No!" Tartaglia gasped, flustered. "Perverted old man, no! That's not why I brought you here!"

"My apologies," Zhongli chuckled, daring to walk towards Tartaglia and close the distance between them. "You said you wanted a 'treat' and I assumed you meant… ahem, then, could you please elaborate, Ajax?"

Tartaglia clenched his hand into a fist, his fingers tightly digging into his palm. He looked down to avoid Zhongli's eyes and felt his accelerated heartbeat, the annoying pounding inside his chest like if he was some sort of teenage about to confess. Pathetic, he told himself before he flashed Zhongli with a shy smile. "Fight me, xiangsheng."

"Fight you?" Zhongli chuckled, "didn't I help you spar just the other day?"

"No," Tartaglia groaned, his arms crossed in front of his chest and annoyance making his brows furrow. "Fight me for real. Like we used to do. Can you do that for me?"

A quiet, polite giggle came from the other man. He was amused, if anything, probably at how simple and predictable Tartaglia was. "And what if you get hurt?"

"Pfft," he scoffed, "do you think you have what it takes? I'm much stronger now, xiangsheng!"

"Very well, then," Zhongli said as he took a few steps back. He reached out his hand and drew his spear, swinging it around twice before assuming his stance. His body stiffened, but his expression remained gentle. "Let's fight until one of us submit. Will that satisfy you?"

"Only if you give me your all," Tartaglia grinned, rolling his shoulders. His vision shone and water began to gather around his hand before a sharp blade took form within his grip.

Zhongli shook his head. "Don't be greedy. I shall give you just enough."

"Tsk, cocky old man!" Tartaglia shouted and charged at his now-opponent, but with nothing but excitement and amusement in his eyes. His body moved before he could think, as if it had a mind of its own, and soon enough the edge of his blade clashed against the handle of Zhongli's spear.

Tartaglia stomped his feet and pushed the blades down towards Zhongli's body. He could feel the other man's strength resisting his, fighting him back. "It still feels like hitting a wall, xiangsheng!"

"I thought you said you grew stronger," Zhongli provoked him again, shifting his grip to push the ginger away. This time, Zhongli was the one to press the advantage and land a blow against Tartaglia. With an elegant turn, he swung the spear around his body and towards Tartaglia's.

"Y-you— agh!" He held the blades close to his body and did his best efforts to block the hit and absorb its impact. Still, Zhongli was undeniably strong. Tartaglia felt himself behind pushed back and into a pillar — that was not there until just a few seconds ago.

The air left his chest when his body hit the Geo Construct, a pained gasp tore from his lips. Before Tartaglia could recover from the harsh landing, Zhongli had already closed the distance and held the fatui's hands pinned against the pillar. "I assume this crowns me as the victor."

"T-that, ahh," Tartaglia gasped, frustrated, and pulled at his arms. Zhongli's grip was firm as the earth itself, unyielding despite how much Tartaglia struggled. He looked at the other man, inches away from him, and smiled. "That was cheating, x-xiangsheng."

"You shouldn't be so reckless, you wouldn't have fell for that if you were paying attention."

"But it's not over yet," Tartaglia insisted and tried to hit Zhongli with his knees, even when it seemed that it hurt himself more than it did damage to his opponent. "I-I didn't submit yet!"

Zhongli arched an eyebrow as if curious by the other's struggle. He grinned gently, too gently for Tartaglia's liking. "You will, because I know you and your weaknesses, Ajax."

Tartaglia widened his eyes, that sentence connecting all the dots inside his head. "Xiangsheng, c-c'mon! You said you'd fihihight— aHAh, n-no! Xiangsheng!"

"I've said I'd give you enough," Zhongli correct him, his free hand already latched onto Tartaglia's side, tickling him. "This should suffice to take you down."

The fatui let out an enraged groan in protest, but the curses were quickly diluted into panicked, loud giggles and laughter. Tartaglia arched his back off the pillar and even kicked his feet up, but Zhongli held him still, vulnerable to the tickling. "Y-yohohou ahahare the wohohorst!"

"Just let us head back, Ajax, and I will cease it," Zhongli chuckled, squeezing up and down the other man's body. He clawed at his ribs and even poked under Tartaglia's arm, all to make him laugh himself stupid. He knew all the buttons to push and, even after all the time apart, this didn't seem to have changed. "You don't seem to be any less ticklish than I remember."

"SHUhuhut up!" Tartaglia gasped, his cheeks red as heat gathered around his collar. He squeezed his eyes shut, not to just try to ignore the tickling, but to distract himself from the fact he was enjoying being handled like that. "D-dahamn yohou, xiahahangsheng! AHah, l-lehehet goho of mehe!"