Seven Months in Heaven [Zhongchi/Tartali]

Chapter 6 - A Mere Mortal

Zhongli's lips shone with damp, and he raised a gloved hand to touch them, the thin slits of his eyes expanding a little wider than usual as his gaze dropped to linger on Childe's parted mouth.

"I said, ahem!" Hu Tao's voice broke the spell and Childe tore himself from Zhongli, cheeks burning as the air hung thick around him.

Didn't anyone ever open a window in here?

"Well, I'm glad you two were enjoying yourselves. But did you really have to use so much tongue? Right in front of my salad too, eww!"

She gestured to the table and, sure enough, while Childe's mouth had been locked with Zhongli's, their meals had been laid out before them. In front of him sat a large bowl, in which floated chunks of pink, succulent meat in a creamy broth, and the scent – meaty, with a slight saltiness – wisped through the air, setting Childe's mouth watering.

Although not quite as much as the kiss had.

The waiter had been graceful enough not to disturb their romantic moment.

"Shall we eat, then?" Zhongli said, smoothing his coat back against his shirt. Not a hair on his head was out of place, showing no sign Childe's fingers had been tugging and winding through it only a minute earlier.

Like it never happened.

Like the kiss they shared meant nothing.

Because it didn't.

Because it was an act.

Childe would do well to remember that, no matter how the pulsing in his ears suggested otherwise.

He picked up his chopsticks with a shaking hand.

It meant nothing.

He reached down to pluck a piece of meat from the soup.

It meant nothing.

Bringing it slowly to his mouth, he told himself once again.

It meant– damnit!

He dropped his morsel, cursing under his breath as it splashed back into his soup, sending flecks of soup-juice up his shirt and stinging hot across his cheek.

"Ah, Childe, you have some–" Zhongli reached a hand toward Childe's face.

"It's fine I've got it!" Childe jumped back, smacking his knee on the table and sending the contents of his bowl slooshing over the edge, creating a puddle of meaty soup that seeped across the table and dripped onto the floor. He sighed, ignoring the growing prickling under his skin. "...I've got it."

"Oh ho ho, you two really like each other, huh?" snickered Hu Tao, a leaf protruding from the corner of her mouth.

Zhongli turned to her sharply. "Director Hu, please. Would you kindly pass Childe a napkin?"

She did so and, napkin in hand, Childe crawled on the floor, scrubbing at the damp patch in the rug where the soup juice had taken up its determined residence, seeping deep between the threads of fabric. Zhongli ate silently, his eyes fixed on his meal, sparing not a glance at Childe, and Hu Tao wasn't of any assistance either, giggling over her food like a misbehaving school child.

Childe's arm was heavy as he finished with the rug and wiped the last remnants of soup from the tiles.

It meant nothing... right?

Returning to his seat at the table, he resumed manoeuvring his chopsticks in an attempt to eat, managing to toss a small piece of meat into his mouth, the flavour a vague afterthought in the back of his mind as he swallowed.