Childe's days are spent zipping around town on his beat-up old bike, delivering all sorts of shit to high-class clientele with money to waste.

It's a tough job full of dodging cars and motorbikes, and stupid pedestrians who can't read traffic signals. His knees hurt and his back is stiff from being hunched over, weighed down by a heavy bag. The quicker he moves, the more money he makes, begging for tips from the hands of those far luckier than he.

He misses money, sometimes, but not the way that is used to bog him down. Wealth comes with its problems, and while being poor does too, he enjoys the freedom that he's gained instead. And so, his clients-usually the sort who turn up their nose once they see his casual, slightly grimy self.

Childe drops off their order and then he's on his way, hopefully with a tip that's at least twenty percent.

He stops before Archon Industries, straddling his bike as he surveys the skyscraper. Childe looks at his wristwatch next, tapping the screen of it gently. "Four o'clock," he says to himself. He's been slugging it on the streets since seven that morning and this'll make for a nice ending gig for the day.

The shiny floors of the lobby reflect his gangly self. He looks a little worse in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Childe does his best to look at least slightly presentable, dragging his fingers through his hair to tousle it just so. Sniffs an armpit and deems it decent. Rubs at his face to at least get the sweat.

Mr. Zhongli is his favorite customer. He's delivered to him more times than he can possibly count over the last couple of years. He's nearly a friend, even-he knows Childe's name, and he asks him about his day. Never tips via the mobile app, but always remembers a wad of cash right before Childe is out of his office door.

This day is no different. Childe shuffles into Zhongli's office on quiet feet, his delivery bag thrown over his shoulder. "Hey, Mr. Zhongli."

Zhongli looks up from the papers he pours over, spread across his desk. And oh, if looks could kill, Childe has been dead and in hell for the last several years. Those dangerous golden eyes look right into him, curling Childe's gut.

"Childe," he greets with a soft smile. "I've told you-"

"Yeah, I know." Zhongli isn't that much older than him, so he doesn't like the formality. Childe though-he waves his hand around at the fancy office that overlooks the city. "You're still more than I'll ever be."

Zhongli's face crinkles slightly. "Childe-"

"Anyway, special delivery!" Childe tugs the bag from his shoulder and pulls Zhongli's order from it. "The usual, of course. Miss Xiangling sends her regards." He drops it on the edge of the desk, away from Zhongli's work.

Zhongli sighs, sitting back in his chair, and rubbing his face. "Thank you," he says softly. "Punctual as always."

"Gotta work for those tips, you know?"

"You don't have to rush for my sake."

"I know that, but I have a reputation to maintain, even with you."

Zhongli laughs at that, a soft little sound. "Nevertheless."

"Right then. That's it for the day. Until the next, Mr. Zhongli." Childe gives him a mock salute before turning on his heel and heading for the door. Three, two, one-

"Ah, Childe," calls out Zhongli right as he reaches the entry of his office. Zhongli stands and pulls his wallet from his pocket. "I nearly forgot-your tip."

Childe pauses as he always does, leaning against the doorframe with a grin. "Thought your memory might've finally failed you, old man."

Zhongli scoffs gently, crossing the room. "You wound me with that," he says, then. "Here." Childe holds out his hand and Zhongli places the cash into his palm.

And then he doesn't let go.

His brow creases slightly as his thumb slides across his hand. "Callouses," he says. "And split knuckles."

"I mean, I ride a bicycle all day. Of course, my hands look like shit."

"They don't," says Zhongli. And then he must realize that he's holding onto him because he drops Childe's hand immediately. "Right, then. Until the next."

"Uh, yeah," replies Childe inelegantly. That was fucking strange.

Still, he grins as he leaves, delighting in Zhongli's soft smile in return.

A week later, Childe picks up an order for Zhongli that isn't his usual.

"Weird," he murmurs, sliding his thumb across his phone screen. Zhongli is the sort of man who has everything carefully prepared. His order is always the same, which is one of the reasons Childe finds it so easy to deliver to him. "Dinner for two, maybe?"

That's a funny thought.

Zhongli is also the sort of man who's married to his job. The only person he'd share a meal with is another unfortunate soul trapped in the office with him.

Which brings Childe to the second weird thing-he looks at his watch, tapping the screen. "Nine." He's working late that day, but Zhongli never orders past five. Childe frowns. Should he be worried? Probably not. He used to work brutal and grueling hours, and he knows exactly how they can sneak up.

"Whatever," he mutters as he kicks up the stand to his bike. He's overthinking it, surely. Even Zhongli can't live the same thing every day.

Childe has never been to the building past closing, but the security guard recognizes him, waving him through once he shows up with Zhongli's order.

Once in the elevator, Childe does his usual check-hair, armpits, and sweat. Not that he has anyone to impress, but Zhongli brings out his vain side. Childe wants to look at least decent. You know, just in case. The elevator dings at Zhongli's level and Childe steps out into the sterile hallway.

Zhongli is alone in his office when he walks in, rubbing tiredly at his face. Childe doesn't think that he's ever seen him so exhausted.

"Delivery?" he asks, stepping into the room fully.

Zhongli jumps but eases once he sees that it's Childe. "Ah, sorry, I was just lost in thought."

Childe drops the order onto the free corner of his desk. "Gotta say that I was a little surprised to get an order from you so late. Don't think I've ever delivered here past nightfall."

"Work is proving difficult. I try not to stay so late, but we're dealing with a merger, and it's been a little hectic." Zhongli sighs softly as he leans back in his chair. "Apologies, I shouldn't complain."

"I mean, you aren't, like, weathering it alone, are you? You ordered dinner for two, so I assume someone's working with you?"

Zhongli's mouth falls open at that. He seems hesitant before he answers. "Actually, no, I-Perhaps this is a little forward of me, but I thought that we might share it."

Childe blinks, unsure that he's heard correctly. "Wait, what?"

"Are you hungry?" asks Zhongli then, reaching across his desk for the bag. "You never look as though you eat well."

"I'm working?" Childe doesn't mean for it to sound like I question. "I mean, I'm working. You know, deliveries, and all." He raises his phone as though it means something.

"I would pay you for your time, obviously." Which sounds terrible, and Zhongli must realize it. "That is to say, I would make sure that you don't lose out on any... potential money."

Childe shouldn't. Sure, they are friendly. And yeah, Zhongli is handsome in a Gods, this man can't be real, kind of way. But to share a meal with him? Oh, he's out of your league. Not that Childe is playing a game to begin with.

"Sure," he says instead, all his smarts going right out the window.

Zhongli looks relieved as Childe plops into the chair opposite him. "I've thought about asking before," he says, a small confession. His cheeks tint pink in a sheepish sort of way. "But, I...well, I've never been good with asking for things, I suppose."

"It's just sharing a meal," says Childe with a laugh. Zhongli doesn't laugh though. Instead, he tugs awkwardly at his collar. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine." Zhongli chuckles softly, setting a container of food before Childe. "Truth be told, I don't have many acquaintances left that I would share a meal with, let alone coworkers. I'm admittedly rusty when it comes to spending time with others."

"I'm just...surprised that you asked me?" Childe rubs at his neck. "Not that I'm complaining, or anything."

"Ah." Zhongli opens his takeout container. "I like you, though." Childe nearly spits out his first bite of food, choking slightly. "Childe?" Zhongli looks utterly baffled, holding his chopsticks like native Liyuean he is.

"Sorry, I just-what?" A fire burns in Childe's gut at Zhongli's easy and kind words.

Zhongli seems genuine enough, looking utterly clueless as to Childe's confusion. "Was it not clear? I always request you as a driver-"

"Because I'm good at it, right?"

"Well, yes, but I would like to think that we have become friends over the years," says Zhongli finally.

Right. Friends. Childe doesn't know why he thought it might have been more, and he doesn't know why he wished for it either. He's not a lucky guy, happenstance is never on his side, so he'll just nurse his little crush quietly and enjoy Zhongli's presence however he can.

"Yes," says Childe with a laugh. "Sorry, let me clock out early and then we can enjoy our meal."

It isn't the first time that they've chatted about themselves or that Zhongli has asked about him. They've shared bits and pieces of their lives over the moments that they've shared, and Childe has always enjoyed it.

Zhongli, though, is so utterly different from him that Childe has always felt like he was watching from outside the glass windows of his pristine and perfect office. It is strange, sitting there at his desk, sharing a meal and laughing softly at what the other says.

It feels nice, something that Childe is quite unused to; but judging by what Zhongli said earlier, Childe thinks that maybe he's just as lonely too, face buried in his work as he spends his nights by himself.

"You aren't good with chopsticks, are you?"

Childe's face burns. "I mean, I'm not from here. Surely, you've realized that by now."

"Nearly three years you've been delivering to me," says Zhongli. "That is plenty of time to get the hang of it."

"Only if I practice." Childe waves them around. "Xiangling didn't pack anything else, so I have no choice tonight."

Zhongli hides a soft smile behind his hand. "It would help if you held them correctly." He reaches out then, curling his fingers around Childe's hand. "Like so." He adjusts his grip with a light-handed touch, thumb smoothing over Childe's calloused skin.

Childe is going to die. Childe is going to die because the touch lingers a little too long, his head spins, and his mouth goes dry.

Zhongli pulls away, saying, "Only the top one moves. It takes practice, but I have faith in you." Childe fumbles awkwardly for the rest of the night, but manages to slog through using them well enough that when he's done, Zhongli rewards him with a deep-timbered, "Good job."

Childe needs to get the fuck out of there. Their chats are always nice, but there's a reason that Childe never sticks around for long. Zhongli only makes his chest tighten. It's dumb, how much Childe just wants.

Shit, it's been too long since he's gotten laid.

"Well, this was nice," says Zhongli as he tidies up his mess, tucking the leftover trash into the takeout bag.

"Yeah. Thanks for...um, treating me? I don't know how I'll pay you back-"

"Nonsense." Zhongli waves the thought away. "It was my treat."

Sooner than later, Childe is back on his feet, shouldering his delivery bag. Neither suggests that they do it again, but Childe thinks that this won't be the last meal they share. A nice thought, one that makes his spine tingle.

"You'll be careful, right?"

"Hm?"

"Going home. It's late and you'll be on a bike."

Zhongli's concern is sweet enough that Childe's mouth curves into a grin. "I'll be fine. Nothing new to me. But you-don't stay here too long. You deserve some rest."

Childe doesn't give Zhongli an opportunity to disagree.

Childe is fucked and not because Zhongli confessed his love in real life instead of in his dreams.

The lock to his bike was cut and someone rode it off. Childe stands there on the sidewalk, staring at the empty spot where it once stood. It was a shitty bike, but it did him well, and Childe can't exactly afford to replace it. "Fuck," he says. And then: "Fuck!" he yells, kicking at the bike rack.

He immediately regrets it, feeling the hit all the way up his shin bone.

"Childe?"

Childe certainly doesn't expect to hear Zhongli's voice or to find him standing there, dressed crisply in his suit, briefcase in hand. He's never seen Zhongli out of the office and it feels almost criminal. Childe's brain short circuits as Zhongli tilts his head to the side, waiting.

"I..."

"Did you not ride here?"

"Someone fucked off with my bike," he says, kicking at the broken lock.

"Let me drive you home." Zhongli doesn't hesitate. The offer comes immediately, smoothly, easily. Like he was looking for an excuse.

"No, you've already done too much. I'll just call a ride-"

"I'm already here and I don't charge for my taxiing services." Zhongli means it as a joke, but Childe weighs the implication of it.

He still slides into the soft leather passenger seat not five minutes later. The car is the sort of luxury that he used to swathe in back when he worked at the bank. Zhongli slips into the other side and buckles himself in.

"I...thanks for the ride, Mr. Zhongli."

Zhongli scoffs, slipping into the ignition and starting the car. "What will it take for you to call me by my name?"

"Probably a few drinks and about a decade of knowing each other."

Zhongli looks at him, amused. "Could I trouble you for your address?" he asks, pulling up the keyboard of the navigation system.

Childe tells him, watching as Zhongli keys them in. His eyes never leave the sight of Zhongli's hand, eyes washing over the smooth, pale skin, and the lines of veins. The ring on his pointer finger, the leather band of his watch, the curve of Zhongli's finely boned wrist, barely peeking out from his sleeve cuff.

Oh, thinks Childe. All the things those hands can do. Childe feels hopelessly pathetic in the way that he pines, imagining it. Zhongli seems none the wiser, turning to back his car out of his assigned parking space.

The car ride is quiet. Childe doesn't actually live that far from Archon Industries tower, so the entire trip takes about fifteen minutes this late and with no traffic. Zhongli hums along with the quiet radio softly, and Childe just stares at those long fingers pressed against the steering wheel.

"We're here," says Zhongli eventually. Regretfully.

Regretfully? Hope blooms in Childe's chest and he wonders if he should take a risk. His brain says no, but his dick says yes, twitching in his trousers, hidden by his delivery bag. Childe isn't stupid. It feels as though Zhongli has been attempting to flirt the entire night. Rather poorly, at that.

Zhongli looks out the window, squinting at his shitty apartment. "This is...modest."

"It's a shithole," says Childe. "But it's in decent shape, I guess. Thanks for the ride. I'm-well, I guess it'll be a while before I see you again. Can't exactly deliver stuff if I don't have a bike." He moves to vacate the car as quickly as possible.

"Childe," says Zhongli, reaching out to grasp his wrist. They both pause, surprised. Zhongli more so than Childe, judging by the way he stares at his hand like it's acted on its own.

Childe's heart thuds in his ears and his instincts scream, but Zhongli makes no move to let go of him. Just do it. Just fucking do it.

"Do you want to come up? Share some tea or something?"

Zhongli's answer comes embarrassingly fast. "Yes," he says, still holding Childe's wrist, thumbing across his pulse.

Well, fuck, thinks Childe. He didn't think that Zhongli would agree.

They do not share tea.

The moment that the door shuts behind them, Childe moves, tugging him inside and pressing Zhongli against the back of his couch. The apartment is a shoebox. There is so little room it takes nothing for Childe to slide close.

"Childe," says Zhongli, his hands dropping to Childe's waist.

They share a breath, staring at each other. Then Zhongli's eyes turn to look at Childe's mouth, his throat bobbing. Oh. Childe reaches out, curls his fingers into the lapels of Zhongli's suit jacket, pulls him close, and kisses him.

And Zhongli kisses him back, licking across the seam of Childe's lips with barely contained passion. Childe nips at his mouth which drags a moan from Zhongli. Zhongli is surprisingly aggressive in his touch, lips slotted against Childe's as he firmly grips his chin.

"Shit," murmurs Childe against him, and Zhongli swallows up the word, tongue snaking out to slip between his lips. Moans and heavy breaths. Hands wander as Zhongli pulls Childe's shirt from his trousers, fingers smoothing over his heated skin.

It almost burns, the way that Childe's cock aches. It twitches, fully hard, dripping at the tip and wetting his clothing. "Fuck."

Zhongli tugs at his chin. "Language," he chides, half-hearted. He slips his thumb into Childe's mouth, and Childe swallows around it, swirling around the digit, tongue pressing against the pad.

Two can play that game. "Fuck off, Mr. Zhongli."

Zhongli's gaze turns this, eyes narrowing as heat washes over his face. Childe's mouth goes dry. He feels the way that his throat bobs as he swallows, watching back as Zhongli practically devours him with that heady gaze.

"I can leave," says Zhongli, then. His voice tips low, a teasing threat.

"Or you can fuck me," says Childe.

Zhongli pushes at him. They stumble across the room to where Childe's bed is in the shitty studio apartment. Any other time he'd be embarrassed, but every shred of his attention is on Zhongli who shrugs out of his jacket and tugs at the knot of his tie.

"Unfair," says Zhongli, dropping the tie to the ground. He undoes the top few buttons of his shirt next.

"What is?"

"How long have you..." Zhongli pauses as he settles onto the bed, leaning over Childe. The question is clear.

"Gods, too long," says Childe.

"We could have-" Zhongli breaks off, laughing, dragging a hand through his hair as though he can't quite believe it. "Sorry, sorry, not to be distracted." He turns his attention back to Childe then, rucking his shirt up.

Things are smooth from there on out. Surprisingly easy. Annoyingly so. Childe's few-and-far-between fucks are always awkward affairs, but with Zhongli, it seems almost natural. Maybe that's what it's like when you actually like the person, when you're harboring feelings, when your heart thuds at the mere sight of them-

Childe moans when Zhongli drops down, presses back his legs, and noses across the bulge in his trousers. He nips at Childe's erection through the rough-spun fabric of his jeans before nudging it with his fingers. Childe watches him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. "Gods, you're-"

"Let me take care of this," says Zhongli quietly, kissing the tip of the tent in his clothing that's dampening more and more by the second.

As if Childe can say no. "Please," he whines, hips bucking up enough to slide those jeans right off. And then his boxer briefs. Zhongli doesn't even bother with Childe's shirt, he just jerks his dick with a warm hand, tongue slipping out to lick across the slit.

Childe arches so violently that he smacks his head against the plaster wall. "Oh fuck," he hisses, reaching up to nurse a quickly forming goose egg. Zhongli chuckles from between his legs, leaning forward to take Childe's entire cock into his mouth. "Oh, oh, fuck."

Zhongli is wicked, swallowing him down to the root. Childe bucks, unable to help himself, delighting in the hot, wet warmth. Zhongli moans, throat tightening. He sucks, cheeks hollowing.

Childe cannot stop staring. He pets through the unflappable Mr. Zhongli's hair with his hand, brushing back the bangs and taking in his heated gaze. Zhongli's eyes flutter closed as he bobs along his cock, stroking the part that isn't shoved into his mouth.

"I didn't know you'd-" Childe whines, his voice cracking as he tugs on Zhongli's hair. "Shit, you're just going at it."

Zhongli pulls off and presses a sweet kiss to the tip. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he says, licking across the vein that bulges on the underside. He smooths the precome around, his thumb dipping into the slit. "How I've dreamed about you."

Yeah, Childe too. His bed's been littered with little tissues because he's fucked his hand so much.

"Gods, you're going to kill me."

Zhongli huffs a laugh then, swirling his tongue around the crown, suckling at it. "We don't want that," he teases before swallowing Childe's dick down again.

Childe bucks into his mouth, an aborted thrust that he does his best to stop-but Zhongli won't have it. He pulls off once more, nuzzling over the length. "Do it," says Zhongli, nipping at the head, tongue sneaking out to lick across it. "Come on, fuck my mouth."

Zhongli watches him with a heated gaze, cheeks red and ruddy. He doesn't break eye contact when he wraps his mouth around Childe, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks him back into that wet, warm heat. Then Zhongli reaches out and grabs Childe's hand, pulling it to rest against the back of his scalp.

Childe's breath is caught at the sight. At the thought that Zhongli wants him to ruin his mouth. He thrusts, shallowly at first, testing the waters, and it drags a moan from deep in Zhongli's throat, vibrating across his length.

"Fuck," murmurs Childe, moving to brush Zhongli's bangs back as he thrusts again and again. "Fuck, Zhongli."

Zhongli's gaze shifts then and Child realizes that he dropped the title. He said only Zhongli's name. And maybe it's a dumb thing to think since he's got his dick in Zhongli's mouth, but it feels like they've crossed a line into new territory.

"I'm-" He will not last long. This will be embarrassingly short, judging by how the heat in his belly curls and coils. His grip on Zhongli's hair tightens as he slides his cock deeper, the tip pressing into the back of his throat.

Zhongli moans, a low and sinuous sound, something that is definitely going to haunt Childe's dreams. Forever, probably. He's never going to forget it. He's imagined it, but none of those fantasies could have prepared him for the way that it bubbles up from Zhongli's throat. Or that way that Zhongli sucks around him, sliding his tongue across the underside.

"Celestia, look at you," hisses Childe, his voice catching, pitching high. He stares at Zhongli, and Zhongli watches him right back, unblinking, his mouth stretched to its limit around his dick. Childe groans, trying to choke off the sound of his embarrassment.

It is not usually like this. Fucking around is usually just that-fucking around. Minute flings that Childe barely remembers, and as of late, not even those. His hand has satisfied his need more than nameless lays because all he's thought about is Zhongli, Zhongli-

"Zhongli," he whines, fucking into his mouth. Childe cradles Zhongli's cheek with his spare hand, thumbing across the high ridge of his cheekbone there. He thrusts in, over and over, driven by heady lust, and the way that Zhongli reacts.

Zhongli claws at Childe's thighs, his nails digging into the skin. He moans, throat convulsing around Childe's dick. Spit wells as Zhongli chokes, bubbling from the corners of his lips, dripping to the sheets in long strings of drool.

Childe is definitely going to die when he comes. "Where," he squeaks out, finally finding his words. "Zhongli, I'm close. Where do you want me to-"

Zhongli pulls back, releasing his cock. "Wherever you want to," he says. "In my mouth, or-"

"On your face," says Childe impulsively. His chest heaves as his gut tightens. Heat thrums in his veins, burning bright. He feels too tight, stretched wide and thin as his toes curl. He thumbs across Zhongli's bottom lip thinking that he wants to see it painted white.

Zhongli smirks then, wrapping those long fingers around him. He strokes Childe's cock, jerking it. He laps at the tip, tasting the precome, looking nearly gone himself. His free hand grabs at Childe's balls, squeezing gently, causing Childe to rut into his grasp.

It's downhill from there. Only a matter of time. Childe comes, white-hot pleasure flashing through him as he spends himself all over Zhongli's face. Zhongli strokes him through it, praising him with filthy words as he sweeps the come from his face and brings it to his mouth.

Oh, oh, oh that's too much.

It is not enough. Childe would sell his soul to the Abyss to see Zhongli eat his come as though he treasures it. "Look at you. Zhongli-fuck, just..."

And then the moment is over.

Zhongli drops Childe's cock and it falls to his belly with a wet slap, already flagging. He stands and goes to wash his hands in the sink, drying them off on a dish towel that Childe is never going to look at the same way again. Then he rights his clothing, tugging at them primly, ensuring that he's as put together as always.

Childe swallows as he watches him.

"Childe," says Zhongli then, looking back. He reties his tie, knotting it perfectly at the neck.

Ask him to stay. But Childe cannot find the words to do so. He tries and fails, utterly awkward as his high wanes..

Zhongli seems unbothered by his silence. He drags a hand through his hair, sparing a glance in the small mirror by the front door, smoothing it into place. "It has been a pleasure," he says then. As if nothing happened. As if he hadn't just sucked Childe's soul right through the tip of his dick.

The only indicator of their debauchery are his swollen lips, rosy from the strain, and the way that his trousers tent.

Return the fucking favor. "Yeah," says Childe instead, the dumbest thing to ever come out of his godsdamned mouth.

Zhongli slips into his suit jacket and straightens the lapels. "Well, then, until the next," he says. And then he hesitates, just for a moment, his brow wrinkled as he considers Childe one last time. His mouth tips open-but whatever he thinks about saying, he doesn't.

"Yeah," repeats Childe. He could kick himself.

Zhongli offers him a smile, a truly kind and generous one. "Don't forget to lock up," he says before he slips through the door, letting himself out.

Childe does not move for a long time, his chest still hammering, cock still half-hard from just the thought of what happened. When he finally does get up to lock the front door, he feels almost foolish.

As if he'd stay over in a dump like this. Childe surely has decisions of grandeur.

At least Zhongli had the fucking decency to not tip him.