Mafia AU

[misfittoys]

[ A tale of two people leading double-lives and the inevitable misunderstandings that follow ]

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[misfittoys]

[ It's wonderfully disorientating how even the smallest gesture from Mr. Zhongli causes Ajax's heart to flutter. Touches as simple as a brush of noses and a chaste kiss are like indulgent sweets, something that should make him feel guilty and yet he just can't help himself from just one more.

(And another and another).

There's a camera to their left that doesn't quite capture the left side of the room, probably because there are no displays there except for decorative posters and decals carefully designed with ancient Liyue as inspiration. The hallway camera's view is also obstructed by a larger-than-life pillar, rich browns lined in geometric gold as it reaches toward the vaulted ceiling in some metaphor of how the earth holds up the sky or something equally poetic.

Ajax leads Zhongli to that spot now, eyes flicking quickly to both cameras before he slips a hand around him again. Or rather— slips one hand under his coat so his hand can rest not-quite-casually on Zhongli's hip, the smooth texture of perfectly ironed slacks pressed against his palm. Wandering fingers slowly and repeatedly trace the hem of the nearest pocket in what one might consider daring if not for the chess game the two of them played out in the open hall a few minutes before. ]

Do you also play this game of stones, Mr. Zhongli?

[ The board and corresponding pieces are worn down from the passing of millennia, but even so it's evident how carefully crafted some of the jade pieces are. Surely in such a game they would be the most valuable pieces on the board. Ajax cants his head to one side, perhaps deliberately drawing attention to the dragon carved from the same material that hangs from his ear. A little gaudy and a clashing with his own personal style, and yet Ajax would not dare go on a date with Zhongli without it. ]

Or are you more into just collecting pretty things?

I can see the appeal in both.

[arcaico]

[ How easy it is, to allow himself to slip into Ajax’s side with a fluid, unhurried grace, as though he’s done it a thousand times before, as though this isn’t new, a precarious, uncharted territory but rather an old and cherished path worn soft by the years. There’s a pleasure in the way he fits there, though they're almost the same height, Zhongli allows his shoulder to lower beneath the underside of Childe's, his arm draped around the other’s back, his fingers stroking gentle circles at the top of a tense spine, then smoothing downward on his arm with the idle, absent affection of someone who knows the value of easing burdens. Perhaps it’s the hush of the museum, the isolation of their little alcove, even away from the gaze of those security cameras. Or perhaps, the permission they’ve granted one another. But it feels startlingly natural; if he let himself think on it, it might make him ache.

His gaze drifts to the board of river stones and jade, lingering on the hand-carved dragon piece that matches the charm dangling from Ajax’s ear. It’s a bold thing that is nothing like the contemporary style Ajax wears, incongruous in his curated outfit, and yet Zhongli smiles to see it, like a little talisman worn in honor of their last encounter. It softens him, makes him almost shy, perhaps humbled.

He hums, soft and warm, his hand drawing slow lines across the sharp slope of Ajax’s shoulder. There’s tension there, always, a readiness that never quite fades, even in stillness. Zhongli wishes, fleetingly, that he could draw it out, smooth it away, leave Ajax loose-limbed and at ease. ]

—On a rare occasion. [ Answering to the museum's rule of silence, and the proximity that somehow neither him nor Ajax can't seem to fight, his voice pitches low as though confiding a secret meant only for the two of them in the hush of the gallery. ] It is my younger sister in Inazuma who is the real enthusiast. Though I’m afraid she’s never quite mastered the game itself. There’s a knack for patience she’s still cultivating.

[ He smiles, remembering days spent at low tables, jade and bone clattering, laughter weaving through the air thick as incense smoke. The memory is honeyed, just sharp enough at the edges to sting. ]

But I suppose I’ve always preferred collecting pieces with a different kind of beauty. [ He glances sidelong at Ajax, gold eyes gleaming with mirth. He's onto you. ]

I admire what’s been shaped, what’s endured, what has been carved, worn down by time and pressure into something with weight. Even the roughest stone can become something worthy of display. [ His fingers lift to stroke lightly at the ends of Childe's hair at his nape. ] I find myself drawn to what proves themselves beautiful in substance as much as in form.