hydrangeabloom | Mafia AU

Entry tags:

Mafia AU

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

[ A faux affronted gasp: ]

Me? Nervous? About what? That I might do something embarrassing in front of this mysterious handsome and intelligent person who I am trying so very hard to impress. Haha, nothing to be nervous about at all!

[ Ajax clasps Zhongli's hand in both of his, turning it to also face palm up as he hunches over across the chess board to peer down at it with a thoughtful hum. ]

But let's see— let's see—

[ He trails a finger across the length of Zhongli's open palm. ]

Oh look here. A strong long life line. That's good!

[ If Zhongli knows anything about palm reading (or even anything about Ajax), that isn't where the lifeline is supposed to be, but it's also the longest line on Zhongli's palm. So for Ajax's intents and purposes, it might as well be as his finger moves to skim over an adjacent line. ]

And the second longest one— oh, that's your work line. It's pretty consistently deep. Are you sure you don't need a vacation? Or maybe a little relaxation.

[ Ajax tilts his head up just enough to give a salacious wink before turning his attention back to Zhongli's palm. ]

Hmmm. And now where is it? Where is it... Ah!

[ His smile widens, a telltale sign that he is teasing. ]

Your love line. It starts late, but looks to be unbroken after that. Lucky you!

[Zhongli's golden eyes gleam with amusement as Ajax traces lines across his palm, the warmth of his touch bringing an unexpected comfort. Though he knows the true lines of palm reading from countless encounters with fortune-tellers within the underworld, who often used the craft as a cover for their operations, he finds himself captivated by the way Ajax weaves his own playful interpretation, with 'ah's and 'ooh's and thoughtful nods.

His eyebrows arch in surprise at the mention of the "work line", causing him to chuckle softly.] A vacation? [He hums thoughtfully, leaning in slightly as his smile widens.] Perhaps I do need it. Do you have any suggestions?

[Zhongli lowers his voice, his smile becoming a touch more flirtatious.] Starting late… quite curious. Does the line say if I should wait longer or if it's already started?

[ Ajax almost almost drops Zhongli hand as his instinct is to put his own hand to his face to hide the red flush that certainly is creeping across his cheeks and up his ears. Oh, casual Zhongli was already enough to make the butterflies in his stomach flutter about to distraction. So flirtatious Zhongli was like unleashing a tornado. How was anyone allowed to be that handsome and have a voice that drop kicked his mind straight in the gutter?

(How was this man still even on the market?)

Ajax clears his throat, thumb now tracing along one of those lines along his palm absently. ]

Mister Zhongli~ I can't give away all my secrets or the mysteries of the universe all in one go. That would be irresponsible.

But worry not. I can answer both of those questions for the low low price of a third date. How does that sound?

[The sight of Ajax's flushed cheeks and the sudden shift in his demeanor is akin to witnessing amber catching the last rays of sunset in Zhongli’s chest. There's something undeniably charming about Ajax's transparency—the way his emotions play so freely on his face. It’s disarming, and though he’s well-versed in the art of calculated conversation, the sincerity pulls him in further, making him want to continue. So he hums softly, the amusement never leaving his eyes as Ajax traces absent patterns on his palm. He leans in just a touch closer, though they do have a table between them.]

A third date, you say? [He tilts his head as he studies the younger man.] I have a feeling that time spent with you should be very highly valued, but it's one price I'm very willing to meet.

I must admit, though, I’m rather intrigued by these secrets of yours. [He smiles, his tone soft but laced with curiosity.] I look forward to unravelling them.

[His free hand moves to rest on top of Ajax's, a not-so subtle gesture of reciprocation, but one that he is at ease with doing. No masks, no walls—just two people, enjoying each other's company.]

But for now, [he continues, the playfulness returning as he glances back at the chessboard, though he hasn't let go of Ajax's hand. Perhaps this was exactly what he needed after this hellish week?] I believe it's still your move, isn’t it?

[ Greedy greedy Ajax moves to lace their fingers together as soon as Zhongli's hand lies atop of his. Looks like that belongs to him for the rest of the match. ]

Mr. Zhongli~

[ He drawls out the name in a petulant whine. ]

How am I supposed to concentrate on the game when I just want to kiss you? Flirty Mr. Zhongli is so handsome. Wait—! No! That means that I'm the loser. Ugh.

[ He swiftly moves one of his pieces across the board without looking. From a cursory glance, it looks like a hasty unthought move but for someone as calculating as Zhongli, he should recognize it as a very strategic push into enemy territory among numerous of Ajax's pieces. One that will leave the match finished in a handful of rounds (by way of knighting one of Ajax's pawns) if the threat proceeds according to plan. ]

[A whirlwind of playful need mixed with competitive spirit, the two collide in a way that sends a ripple of amusement through him. The younger man's open expression, unfiltered desires, the way he communicates so plainly with no hesitation or coyness; all bring about a certain kind of whiplash that Zhongli is still getting used to.

Zhongli watches as Ajax moves his piece across the board without a second glance, the action seemingly rushed, hasty—but upon further inspection, it's clear that it's part of a well-calculated plan. He takes in the positioning, the strategy behind it, and the subtle brilliance that shines through the playful exterior.

How interesting.

Zhongli's golden eyes flicker with intrigue. He makes his next move, a more defensive one, aligning his pieces in a way that invites Ajax’s advance—come catch me, his position seems to say.]

Well, then, I can't help but wonder... should we continue this game?

[His hand remains intertwined with Ajax’s, his thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles along the younger man's skin, his gaze lowering to count the freckles on his cheeks, on his nose, and then the line of his lips.] After all, it’s only a game. And it seems to me that our wills are already quite evenly tied.

[ Ajax's eyes dim two shades darker at the question, something within him roiling at the mention of quitting. Forfeiture was a loss in his book, and Tartaglia had not backed down from anything in his life. Not even when he was a scrawny nobody brought in kicking and biting to the Tsaritsa's chambers upon their first meeting. ]

Only a game?

[ Red creeps along Ajax's cheeks at Zhongli's wandering gaze (for who resist the charm of this man), his own eyes tracking the slow repetitive motion of Zhongli's thumb pressed against his skin. He blinks slowly— once, twice — before lifting his other hand to advance another piece across the board. It's almost violent in its aggressiveness, but aimed pure and true like a knife thudding a bullseye.

Lead the way, Ajax seems to reply even as he knows there is a trap lying in wait. Or perhaps because he knows there is a trap, but the prize is worth that risk.

Ajax runs his tongue along the back of his teeth as if that could unstick the words he means to say. ]

Mister Zhongli~ Mama didn't raise a quitter, especially with a wager on the line. And I know you see my strategy. You know it's an all or nothing gamble that I win in two turns or lose it all.

So I really just have to know—

If you can stop me when you see it coming. You'll indulge me in that, won't you? To see who wins this battle of wills.

[Oh, there's something in him, something that resonates with an unyielding spirit, like a warrior’s refusal to back down.

Zhongli watches the aggressive move Ajax makes, the piece slamming into position with the force of someone determined to seize victory no matter the cost. A victory, or nothing at all. There's no mistaking the precision behind the move, the calculated risk, and the thrill of the chase that Ajax seems to thrive on. And yet, even in the face of that, Zhongli can't help but smile.

How fascinating.

His golden eyes flick up, meeting Ajax's darkened gaze, the younger man's intensity met with an unshakable calm. To think that a mere toy salesman would be this intense; is it because his work and his life provide him with little instances to truly let loose? Or…]

Ah, but quitting wasn’t what I had in mind. [His thumb continues its slow, deliberate circles on Ajax's skin, the touch grounding them both amidst the rising tension.] Merely a negotiation. I suppose we could call it a contract.

[He tips his head an increment, like he's considering something to be honored, one ritual to better demonstrate one's respect.] I won't deny you the thrill of this battle of wills. But I do wonder—what will that mean for you if I stop you?

[He is still teasing, laying out a test of sorts.]

Is it truly a loss, if you win something you wish for regardless?

[ Ajax tilts his head in the opposite direction, mirroring Zhongli as he rests his chin against his palm. His fingers curl tighter around Zhongli where he can, part restless and part to latch onto this enchanting individual. ]

It can't be a true loss, because it's you, Mister Zhongli. Even if there is no prize at the end except for the joy that blooms across your face at an enjoyable match, it's still worthwhile to me.

[ But then he laughs, eyes crinkling as they lose some of their intensity. ]

Though I must admit I wanted to create a win/win situation for the both of us no matter the outcome. That's just good manners when you're getting to know someone.

But if you want to suggest a negotiation—

[ His gaze lowers to their joined hands and then up to Zhongli's lips, an internal conflict on how bold he could or should be. Or perhaps fantasizing about a prize that he's not sure he wants to jeopardize.

But given a new potentially more thrilling option, there is really only one path for him to take. ]

I'm listening.

[The lightness of Ajax's laugh fills the air between them, dissipating the tension in a way that feels both natural and disarming. It's… strangely familiar. He's seen so many people able to weave this kind of mental maneuver, of meaning business, sometimes dangerous business, and they laugh it off to dissipate the threat. It's oddly strange to see such passionate claims coming from Ajax, when he's but someone who works with toys.

Perhaps he's being too nostalgic. How Ajax can be both fiercely determined and so unguardedly open at the same time is something he finds endlessly captivating.

But there is something else that lingers beneath that openness. Maybe even a hesitancy—an unspoken hope that lingers in the way Ajax’s gaze lowers to their joined hands, then to his lips, as if caught between a want and a fear of reaching too far too quickly.

What is he afraid of?]

A win/win situation... [He muses, lowering his gaze to the pieces, his free hand tapping onto one of them, mindlessly tipping it just a fraction, as though weighing the scales of their conversation.] That does sound appealing. But I think there's an opportunity here for something even more... rewarding.

[His thumb still traces slow, steady circles on the back of Ajax’s hand. There’s a pause, and then Zhongli looks up, his voice still a soft murmur, the kind that almost seems to wrap around them, as if sealing them off from the rest of the world.]

How about this: if you win, you can claim your prize—whatever you wish for. But if I win, I get to choose where this evening takes us.

[Zhongli’s smile deepens, warm and knowing, as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around Ajax’s hand.

His fingers move the piece to an extremely dangerous place for the both of them.] I’m certain you’ll find that quite a compelling contract. It’s not often that I offer such terms.

[ For perhaps the first time, Ajax truly blue screens. His eyes widen in shock as if he can't believe what he's hearing— because he doesn't. That sweet inviting tone of Zhongli's voice is something he only fantasized about in the privacy of his bed — not here and definitely not saying these things. ]

Whatever I—

[ And then Zhongli lays out the reward for his own win, and Ajax can feel the flush all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Oh.

Oh.

Normally, Ajax would recoil from such an offer, willful creature that he is. He always liked to have at least one hand on the driver's wheel even if the Tsaritsa sat next to him, calmly delivering order after order in a tone that conveyed the price of disobedience. The thought of allowing Zhongli to decide everything sends a unique and chilling thrill up his spine. The thought of Zhongli (Ajax's hand in his) smiling that too handsome smile and tugging him to an evening of his own design...

Ajax's fingers twitch in Zhongli's grip. His blush does not fade. ]

Okay.

[ Ajax's voice is embarrassingly small even to his own ears, but soon that boyish grin spreads across his face, thawing the ice of vigilance and mistrust. He was Ajax now — the toy seller. Ajax— a simple boy on a simple date with a man who he had a not-so-simple crush on. This was still a win-win— would still be his win. And he'd be a complete fool to let this opportunity pass him by. ]

You have a deal, Mr. Zhongli.

[ And he taps the consultant's most recently moved piece with a forefinger just to let him know he understand the stakes. Just to let him know he knew exactly what Zhongli was doing and was infatuated with him even moreso because of it.

Ajax's knight sweeps across the board to land side-by-side, so close and yet unable to attack or defend against each other. It's a deviation from Ajax's previous scheme but equally (if not moreso) risky. Can Zhongli defend his king when his knight has so thoroughly and brazenly infiltrated his ranks? ]

Check.

[ But not quite yet mate. ]

[Perhaps he shouldn't delight himself in the flush that spreads across Ajax’s face, the wide-eyed shock that briefly freezes him in place, his lips parted so captivatingly. Zhongli feels the delicate balance between them tip, the tension of their playful back-and-forth shifting into something far more profound, having the slide both down the incline into a depth that even he hadn't really expected that day. He wonders, as his smile deepens, if the tension of the week has gotten to him, and he now craves and thrills at seeing Ajax flustered, even if just for a fleeting moment.

He is incredibly distracting, he thinks as he curls his fingers and turns their hands, fingertips tracing over the same lines that Ajax pretended to read on his own. What was it again? Ah, there's a scar where his lifeline is, and a turbulent beginning to his heart's, only for it to settle into something so deep and steady. He wonders if Ajax has read his own palm before.

Okay, he says. A single, soft word, so unlike the boldness Ajax typically radiates. He feels it settle there, like a steady flame, flickering yet unwavering. How endearing.

Zhongli’s golden eyes flicker with interest as he studies the board. Ajax has made a daring move, one that leaves his pieces in a precarious position. A risk, certainly, but one worth taking for someone like him. Zhongli lets the silence stretch, his eyes lifting to meet Ajax's once more. There's a glint of something mischievous in them.]

How bold. However, a knight alone cannot win such a battle.

[Zhongli moves a piece—a defensive play, positioning his queen to protect the king, but also creating a delicate trap of his own, surrounded by all kinds of attacking pieces, even the remaining pawns. It's tempting - take the queen and the king all at once. It's subtle, but it gives Ajax the opportunity to press forward. Should he take it, however, the board will tilt once again, but in Zhongli’s favor. One would call it the sweetness of a venus flytrap.]

[ So focused is Ajax on the board that he pays little attention to his hand being turned so deftly (and oh so so gently) in Zhongli's. His eyes dart from piece to piece, eyes furrowed in concentration until his hand spasms in Zhongli's grasp. The scar on his hand is old, formed back when he was fourteen and newly admitted to the Fatui — never fully healing because he had not known enough about the life he leads now to tend to it correctly. As a result, the tissue itself is tender and Zhongli's touch is almost ticklish as he traces down the line of it. ]

No fair.

[ Ajax complains as if he had not done the same to Zhongli not moments before. But still he lets his hand remain, indulging in Zhongli's wandering touch. It was a distraction — the good kind that provided that wonderful rush, like standing on the precipice of a 10-foot drop. Uncertain, yet soothing.

A knight alone cannot win such a battle.

Ajax's tongue runs against the back of his teeth, eyes set squarely upon that trap and understanding fully the outcome of a frontal assault. The queen he could handle but the knight would be long slain before it reached the king, leaving the rest of his pieces at a severe disadvantage. A glorious fight but ultimately a loss. He would never do that to Her. No matter how much he loved the thrill of the hunt and the adrenaline rush of battle, Tartaglia did not march into battles that were unwinnable.

He manipulated them until they became achievable.

The knight moves again, this time to slay (not a pawn for they were no longer worth his time), a bishop off to the side of the queen and king. Too far for any one piece to reach the knight in a single movement, but threatening enough to put Zhongli on his back foot with one less major piece in play.

That look of concentration forms into a wicked grin, losing its playfulness for just one beat. A second. Too long for someone of Zhongli's astute observation skills: ]

Who says they can't?

[Ajax’s knight lunges, taking his bishop—a daring strike, one that reveals Ajax’s willingness to manipulate the board to his favor at all costs. But in doing so, the knight is now a solitary figure, bold and reckless, drawn far from its comrades. A smirk tugs at Zhongli’s lips—such audacity demands a response.

His fingers move with deliberate grace, reaching for an unassuming pawn. The movement is slow, almost teasing, as he places it in a position that shifts the dynamic of the game entirely. The pawn cuts through the heart of Ajax’s formation, its path carving a line that threatens the rest of the pieces left unprotected behind the knight, a knight of his own set up to attack the knight if it were to go back. It is not a defensive move—this time, it's offensive. A counterstrike. Followed through by the smallest of the pieces, no strong knight, no cunning queen, but a line of the pawns still remaining poised to strike back.]

A knight can be formidable, [Zhongli murmurs, his gaze flicking up to meet Ajax’s with an amused glint, watching how there's some sort of hunger there in the edge of his lips.

Zhongli's foot find Ajax's underneath the table,] but it is still only one piece. Boldness must always be tempered with strategy, lest it leave the rest of the field vulnerable.

[A good player will notice that at the back, a single steady rook somehow looms over the whole board, unmoving still, but its placement commanding, a line of attack ready to intervene if necessary, but still remaining tucked into the corner of the board. Ajax’s knight, though victorious in its previous move, is now stranded, unable to aid in defending the rest of the forces left exposed. Zhongli rests his chin on his wrist, his posture relaxed yet his eyes keenly watching Ajax’s reaction.]

Well? [Behind the measured calm, there’s a flicker of warmth—Zhongli’s delight in this exchange, in the thrill of matching wits with someone who embraces the game with such passion.

Ah, it truly has been a while.]

[ Oh Zhongli. Mister Zhongli. Ajax could burst into flames right now for how each motion, each breath, each word makes the man across from him more attractive. And he'd be thankful for it, too. Like the gravity of the sun, how is he supposed to even escape?

(Not that he wants that. Oh no no. Finally, Ajax has found something precious. Something that makes him feel as alive as those nearly impossible missions the Tsaritsa stacks on her youngest to keep his interest piqued. Why would he ever want such a feeling to end?) ]

It's only one piece.

[ Ajax's eyes flicker over to the line of pawns poised and ready to lay waste to his main troop. Zhongli's careful and meticulous positioning has seen to that. The most logical next step would be to abandon the knight in favor of bolstering the rest of his troops and ensuring the protection of his king and queen. An overextended soldier is not worth paying mind to, after all. They all know the price of being set upon the field. Glory or death.

But Ajax has never been the logical player. The thrill of a risky move has and will guide his hand more than any a clear and straightforwardly boring path to his objective.

His sneaker scuffs against the pristine polish of Zhongli's leather dress shoe, childish but also eager to leave his mark (however small) upon the other. ]

Mmmm. But where does being predictable get you? Nowhere fast if your opponent knows where you're going to be three moves from now. Might as well not act at all in that case. At least it'd be a surprise!

But ah— is strategy the only factor in what piece to play? In what move to choose? Will Mr. Zhongli let a favored piece be sacrificed if that means he gets one step closer to the end game.

[ The knight moves again — two spaces up and one across, the rook in the corner sighted at the end of his lance. A rook can only go straight in any direction. It poses no threat to the flexibility and unpredictability of the knight.

So given the choice between regrouping or recklessness, Ajax had once again pulled out a surprising third option— go for the head of the snake instead of the crown that sits pretty up top as a distraction. And then let Zhongli decide what was most important— Victory above all else? Or some other unknown answer. ]

Let's find out.

[Silently, quietly, Zhongli watches the way the Knight traipses closer to the ever-looming rook, how it sweeps across the field with audacious intent. Interesting, how a single unmoving piece easily caught Ajax's attention. The board reflects the sharp, unexpected rhythm of their exchange, each move rippling outward with tension.

His smile deepens as Ajax once again opts for unpredictability. The knight is reckless, but its purpose is clear. To challenge, to provoke, to seize control of the narrative on the board.

But the battlefield is never as simple as one daring charge. He doesn’t move immediately, letting the moment and the intensity linger. His foot shifts beneath the table, unbothered by the scuff of Ajax's trainer, the polished leather of his shoe sliding up the side of it, pressing against the jut of his ankle. The movement is playful, as his toe edges beneath the hem of Ajax’s trousers, brushing against the socked beginning of his calf. The touch is fleeting but leaves a spark, like the current running between them.

With that, Zhongli moves one of his knights, emerging from behind what had seemed to be an impenetrable line of pawns. The piece darts forward, challenging Ajax’s knight in a manoeuvre that feels less like a counterattack and more like an invitation. A daring move that draws attention, pulling focus back to the knight now standing so near. Behind it, if he notices, there's yet another bishop that he has yet to take.

The rook remains steadfast in its corner, looming like a sentinel. He doesn't say anything, merely watches those ocean depth eyes swirl about the complexity of it all.]

[ The bishop is ignored. It is weak, cowering behind the frontal assault of the knight, and Tartaglia does not bother with the weak when a worthy adversary is on the field. Though his eyes dart between the rook and the knight (queen and king seemingly forgotten) as he carefully considers his next move.

The rook is the head of the snake— every gut instinct burning within him is almost sure of that. Without a doubt, he will need to be taken out. But is the knight a credible enough warrior to deal with first, lest he pay for that mistake gravely later if he wrongfully ignores him? Decisions, decisions. And without proper information to go on.

Ah, but it is the thrill of the unknown that Tartgalia loves. Jumping headfirst into a situation that has him at the disadvantage. So he does not falter. He does not hesitate.

(And he does not let Zhongli have the upper hand in the battle under the table as that teasing sharp touch recedes. Sneakers aren't really made for this kind of elegant touch that Zhongli so expertly wields, but they'll do in a pinch. He catches Zhongli's foot just at the Achille's heel with the curve of his shoe — slides up and down in a mirror of what Zhongli had done a few moments before but making sure to press a little harder against all those delicately vulnerable places.)

The knight moves to engage the other knight, bold and brave and just out of reach of the army of pawns. ]

You're so serious, Mister Zhongli.

[ As if Ajax wasn't just the same. ]

Could it be that perhaps I have tempered your strategy with boldness?

[There’s an art to restraint that Zhongli has perfected over the years, what seems like centuries. And yet, this vivacious, charming man in front of him, seems to have found a way to steadily erode that practiced discipline. Like an orange cat that found something of interest behind a wall, and is stubbornly and willfully digging its claws in, chipping it bit by bit. And yet, the flicker of admiration rises unbidden.

And then, under the table, Ajax mirrors his earlier motion, the curve of his sneaker pressing with an intent that is bolder, less refined, yet no less effective. The pressure against his heel is more assertive than teasing, the rough contrast of his trainer grazing over sensitive, vulnerable places. A touch that feels like a declaration in its own right. Zhongli exhales softly, his lips curling into a subtle smile.]

"Tempered me", have you? [His golden eyes lift from the board to meet Ajax’s, his gaze steady but alight with a warm, teasing glint. And if his voice had raised playfully, fondly, before, it drops yet again a fraction, low enough that it feels like a shared secret between them, woven into the space they’ve claimed in this moment.] Perhaps.

Or perhaps, Ajax, you’ve encouraged me to indulge a little.

[Who sounds like a cat who got the cream, here? Zhongli slides his knight into a position that defends the rook and simultaneously opens a line of attack on the other side of the board. Ajax's knight, moving after the other, move out of the way for a dual purpose—keeping the rook free, and another sentinel to prepare for an unseen strike. His queen remains silent, untouched, biding her time, yet her presence looms over the field, a full line aimed at the king on the other side.]

Boldness is very appealing, Ajax. It certainly has its allure. I do admire it. [His foot shifts again, sliding up the length of Ajax’s calf in a deliberate counterstroke, the polished leather smooth against the fabric of Ajax’s trousers. It lingers just long enough, coiled around that leg, for half a second, pulsing.] But it’s the balance of restraint and daring that truly defines a... good performance.

[His tone softens just slightly, an undercurrent of genuine curiosity threading through his words.] Is there ever a moment when you hold back?

[ Ajax places a finger atop his knight (his favored piece) stroking the resin mane as if it were an actual pet as he surveys the trap which he has so recklessly and willingly wandered into.

Zhongli has many key pieces at his disposal waiting to be deployed: a bishop (forgettable) and a knight (a worthy adversary) and the rook (his ultimate goal) and the queen (the impossible god to tear down from her throne). His king is not safe and his army divided — how just like the Fatui in their scheming and squabbling. It was the true reason they could not overcome the might of Morax, after all. Morax's whose coordination was so perfect, it was almost nauseating. Morax who inspired leadership instead of paid for it strength, fear, and lofty promises. Tartaglia is a Vanguard, a blade to an organization where such pieces prided themselves on strength and undying loyalty. Long-term strategy has never been his forte nor does he care to make it one.

And so— Ajax picks up the knight even when he knows that beyond his own delusions of grandeur, he is a pawn. And pawns either fight tool or nail to be queened or are felled on the battlefield forgotten in a sea of similar shaped corpses. ]

Never.

[ The knight ignores the other knight. It ignores the rook and the bishop. It hops over two pawns deep into enemy territory to challenge the queen. He cannot defeat her from this position, but now he stands between her and his king, a bishop ready to sweep across the board and end her if she were to take the knight. It's a taunt and a threat all wrapped with a little bow. Perhaps he's worked himself into an unwinnable situation, but even so Ajax will take down Zhongli's best if he has to go down fighting. ]

Half-measures rarely give me what I want.

[ And now to turn to the other "battle". The one that Ajax has been sorely (and pleasurably) losing this entire encounter.

Ajax glances once to the left and to the right, clocking everyone else within the room but this part of the museum is quiet and empty save for the staff and the odd couple and family engrossed in their own little outings. His free hand dips below the table to catch Zhongli's wandering foot by the ankle and hoist it further up until it's halfway up Ajax's calf. Two fingers dip underneath the leather lip of the shoe stroking just under the jut of Zhongli's anklebone with that some bold gentleness that Zhongli had displayed earlier before.

His eyes never leave Zhongli's as unlike the polite consultant, Ajax doesn't let go. Perhaps it is a cruelty — the desire he has to whittle away at Zhongli's composure. To try and keep his attention on him and him alone. ]

But I'm glad you find my boldness appealing even if you shouldn't say such things aloud. It just makes me want to test my limits all~ the~ more~

[It's been a long time since anyone pursued him like this, and it's been longer still since he allowed himself to reciprocate.

He’s been desired before, certainly. Admired, revered, respected—often with some distance, often with hesitation, often with reverence that placed him on a pedestal too high to be reached.

But Ajax does not approach him with careful steps or measured words. He does not hesitate, nor does he handle Zhongli like some untouchable relic of the past. He challenges him, dares him. And, perhaps the most dangerous thing of all, he wants him, unashamedly, and does not care to conceal it.

Zhongli swallows, his throat dry, suddenly wishing for tea to steady himself, to give him something to do with his hands, to keep him from revealing too much of the sudden heat creeping into his expression. But there is no such respite, only the heavy, heated weight of Ajax’s palm still holding firm against his ankle, fingers pressing just under the lip of his shoe with a gentleness that feels at odds with the boldness of his words.

Zhongli's golden eyes flick downward, catching the way Ajax’s fingers linger and how he does not let go. The realization sends a ripple of warmth through him—he enjoys being wanted and pursued this time. He cannot deny it, not when his own body betrays him. His breath is just the slightest bit uneven, and his lips part before he presses them together again in a vain attempt to compose himself.

Instead, his tongue flicks out, wetting his lower lip as he exhales quietly, slowly. He could allow himself this, couldn't he? Just this once? To be courted, to be seduced, despite the world outside, despite the weight of his duty, despite the danger of his life. Here, now, within the sanctuary of this quiet museum, where the only battlefield that mattered was the one between them?

But what of once they left this sanctuary?

The bet curls, coils tight in the space between them like a breath waiting to be drawn. He does not know how Ajax will take it—if the other man, for all his daring, would be the type to pull Zhongli into a darkened corridor out of sight of CCTV and wandering eyes, pressing him against a quiet corner of the world with all the heat and fervor that burns beneath his skin. Or if, for all his boldness, Ajax will surprise him again—choosing instead something prim and deceptively polite, a gentleman, pressing a kiss to his lips with decorum, restrained and measured, as though the tension between them did not exist.

(Which did he prefer? Zhongli is at a loss.)

The thought makes his pulse quicken: would it be so terrible to indulge?]

Ah… [The sound escapes him, softer than he intended.] You speak as though I shouldn’t say such things. But I find it’s difficult not to when you keep earning them.

So. [His fingers move to the board again. A misdirection.

Ajax is so focused on the knight, on the queen, on the looming rook that he has already noticed. But there were always two.

The second rook—forgotten until now—moves at last. The twin to the first. The second half of a whole. Or perhaps the second face of the same entity.

This one does not linger behind, does not wait like its twin. This one strikes. It cuts through the space left open and slides into place in a way that could only be described as inevitable, taking Ajax's rook, nestled in their ranks.
Perhaps, like himself, two identities reside within a single force. One to be seen. One to be wielded in secret.]

No hesitation. No half-measures. There is an appeal to such a conviction. But it is, also, utterly dangerous.

[When he lifts his eyes again, he lets his foot rise higher. The smooth drag of polished leather ascends, lifting the weight from the salesman's grasp for half a second, pressing with intent until the arch of his foot settles just beneath Ajax’s knee. He presses, firm enough to be felt, a silent provocation of his own. Happy to be there.] But there is a beauty to surrender, as well, Ajax.

[In war, surrender is a moment of sharp clarity, the instant one recognizes the inevitability of being overcome. It is the breaking of resistance, not in despair, but in recognition of something stronger, something greater. In some ways, it is the truest form of wisdom—to know when to hold the line and when to let it fall, to recognize when the act of giving in is itself an act of claiming something else. The act of allowing. It is the moment one lets go, not into nothingness, but into someone else. To feel their hands, their mouth, their voice guiding, teasing, commanding—and to choose to follow. It is the soft unravelling, the exquisite loss of tension, the offering of oneself into the hands of another with the trust that it will be returned.]

Would you ever let yourself yield?

[ Yield? Surrender?

(Ajax was fourteen when he slit his first throat to put bread on the family table. One might have pitied the boy if not for the focus and glee he took in the task. And how not even a fortnight had passed before he did it again.)

Zhongli's embarrassment (though not his reactions) go momentarily overlooked, spared further teasing by Ajax as he mulls over the words that Zhongli has offered him. He should smile good-naturedly here, hint that his submission comes with a price, and try to see what lovely shade of red dusts Zhongli's cheeks before he guesses exactly what that price is. That is what Ajax should do. But something deep within in, something lodged in to the very core of his character, balks at even entertaining such an idea. Yielding was a weakness. Surrender — a death sentence. There was no beauty to be found there. Only failure.

"Dangerous," Zhongli had called his methods or perhaps he was referring to Ajax himself. The glove fits snugly on either hand anyway. And oh, if Zhongli only knew just how dangerous he could be. He'd run, of course. Any sane person would. But the thought is just enough for Ajax to slip on a fraction of his Harbinger mask instead on relying on the ever-pushing charisma of a foreign businessman. ]

I'll take any loss graciously if it's a fair fight. In fact, I find such strength quite charming whether it be in chess or anything else. Yourself included, of course.

[ Because Ajax does feel the press of fine leather pressed just below his knee, a warmth that only fans the flames of his competitiveness. If Ajax was not so wrapped up in victory over this chess match (silly silly Ajax who prefers the losing prize and yet—), he might be tempted to see what he might strip from the other, public space be damned. Or actually— with Zhongli supporting his own weight now, that leaves Ajax's hand free to release the other man's ankle and go exploring. Up up up, he trails two fingers like a blacksmith admiring the edge of a blade. Up until he reaches Zhongli's mid-calf. Because he must know— with as old-fashioned as Zhongli is, should he expect to feel pleasant tautness of sock garters? That would make this all the more fun for Ajax anyway. ]

But I'm afraid it's against my nature to yield. Sorry to disappoint.

[ He sing-songs in a tone that show he's not sorry in the slightest. Without hesitation, his hand once again picks up the knight. Ajax looks Zhongli in the eye then, a grin stretched across his face as he ignores the pair of rooks that have outsmarted him. He ignores the queen who can easily outmatch him. And he ignores the sad forgotten bishop behind him who is now in a terrible position left bereft of allies.

The knight charges even farther into Zhongli's territory, landing with a small thunk exactly four spaces away from one of the two most important pieces on the board. ]

Check. Mister Zhongli.

[ It is as much of a bluff as it is bold. The king can move in any direction to remove itself out of harm's way of the knight, and Ajax is in no better position than he was before. In fact, he might even be worse off. But that does present Zhongli with only one of two options— flee. Or face the knight in combat.

After all, it's the vanguard's duty to lead the charge. And in this task (while the Fatui themselves have been outmatched), Tartaglia himself has never failed. ]

Do you yield?

[He finds himself enamoured. Captivated. How curious, how terribly fascinating it is that a mere toy salesman should hold such fervor in his chest, such fire in his blood. This is not the ambition of a merchant seeking success, nor the calculated coolness of an investor taking risks. This is something raw. A kind of hunger, a drive he has seen in only the most determined of warriors, the most reckless of his own ranks.

He has encountered many like this before—those who charge into battle headfirst, seeking glory, victory, or something they cannot even place a name upon. He has often tempered them, guided them, and reshaped their reckless edges so they did not crumble under the weight of their own passion.

And yet, here, now, with Ajax, he does not want to. He finds himself wanting to watch him burn.

Perhaps that phoenix earring truly holds a meaning. He wants to see how much of this wildfire consumes them both.

Zhongli’s lips curl, amused and—— He watches as Ajax's knight plunges deeper into enemy territory, pressing close, so close. Reckless, desperate, bold. The man has ignored every looming threat, every carefully placed piece, just to force him into a moment of choice. Flee, or fight?

Such single-minded conviction.

Zhongli exhales, slow, measured, though the way he presses against Ajax’s firm grip on his leg betrays him. He can feel the strength in that hold, the rough drag of fingers curling against his calf. It is not a teasing brush now, but something steady, something sure. Ajax is testing, tasting the waters, indulging, taking.

And Zhongli—despite himself—is enjoying being taken.

The corners of his lips quirk as his fingers shift against the board. Not to his queen. Not yet.

But to a pawn.

A simple, unassuming pawn that stands right by the path his own King, a little to the side, waiting, unmoved all this time. And he merely taps on top of it, a note that he will fall into place before the lone knight, cutting off its charge in an almost underwhelming manner.

A sword, beaten by a pitchfork.

The most insignificant piece, and yet the most important.

His voice lowers, soft, indulgent, golden eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he watches Ajax process the warning.]

You are formidable. [But Zhongli's shield is stronger. And then, his fingers brush forward—graceful, precise—as he finally moves his king.

The piece slides one square to the side, the pawn ready to jump onto its place in case the knight is willing to still follow. And by doing so... The queen, beautiful, elegant, has room to cut into enemy territory, sweeping up the bishop that had been protecting Ajax’s king all this time. The real strike. The silent, waiting force that had only now chosen to move.

The true power, held in reserve until the right moment.

And beneath the table, his foot shifts—higher, just slightly, just enough. His calf moves with the drag of Ajax’s touch, and then oh—he feels it. His breath catches for just a moment, golden eyes lowering. Ajax’s fingers, bold and seeking, have found the garter at his knee.

The realization sends a flush creeping up his neck, a quiet thrill humming beneath his skin. He knew Ajax would find it eventually, the man is far too insatiably curious to resist the exploration. But to feel his fingers there, tracing just beneath the strap, pressing into the slight indent it leaves against his skin...

Zhongli does not flinch, but he does lower his gaze. Coy. Indulgent. He hums, a quiet, pleased sound, something almost sinful in its satisfaction, and lets his fingers linger against the edges of the board, as if savoring the moment, drawing it out.]

Your drive is commendable, Ajax. [And he means it. Truly. Ajax does not know the depths of what he has just exposed, of what he has unknowingly revealed. His willingness to fight, to take the impossible route simply because it excites him, because he wants to—how utterly intoxicating.

If only he knew.

If only he knew.

But for now, they are simply two men. Two men playing a game. Two men wanting each other for who they are in this moment.

The outside world does not exist.

Not yet.]

[ Ajax arches a brow as Zhongli taps his pawn, message received as his free hand drums a senseless staccato against the table. But oh, how he loves to raise the ante, even when the pot is already overflowing with bets beyond their means. Nails scrape against the soft hollow of Zhongli's knee as he hooks two fingers underneath the garter. ]

Flattery will get you everywhere, except when I really really want to win, Mister Zhongli.

[ And he really really wants to win. ]

So I'll take that as you still need a little more convincing. Maybe something to sweeten the deal? Oh! Or maybe you're the type who likes a little assertiveness.

[ In one slow and languid motion, Ajax begins to drag the garter midway down Zhongli's calf. Maybe Zhongli will get to enact that fantasy of Ajax absconding away with him to a shadowed corner where the cameras don't see — all smiles full of teeth as he unravels Zhongli thread by thread to reveal what lies beneath. It's been a while since Ajax has been able to indulge in such a power play against a worthy opponent.

It's been never since the strikes had been traded in desire and denial. And oh, does all of Zhongli's confidence (while incredibly attractive) make Childe want to crack his composure. Just a little bit.

Just to hear his name on Zhongli's lips minus all that carefully packaged decorum.

("Careful now, Ajax. You don't want to spook him on the third date." Says the rational part of his brain which he is paying less and less attention to as the tension between them pulls tauter.) ]

Maybe you want me to leave you with no other alternatives.

[ One might think that Ajax is not even talking about the chess game anymore except for the way that the board has stolen the majority of his focus. Even the teasing touch of Ajax's fingers slipping between bare skin and what has to be very expensive silk is just a distraction. A tantalizingly temptation for the way heat pools in his gut, but a distraction all the same. For even if he becomes less outwardly animated in favor of something more coy, Ajax's eyes dart from one piece to the next on the board in an almost erratic pattern calculating strategies that only he can see.

And so the game continues. With Ajax's wandering fingers stroking Zhongli's calf reverently as he does not slide the garter any lower.

Ajax does not move his knight (unless it is in danger of being removed from the board) for the next turn or many thereafter. It stays in silent vigil, as Zhongli's rook does not a few squares away, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Like a trained sniper pressed low to the roof waiting for the perfect opportunity to take the shot.

Like his father taught him back on the frozen shores of their Snezhnayan home as they huddled around the fishing line in the frigid hours of dawn.

Ajax bides his time with the scattered officers left on his side of the playing field. Small groups of them form up into little squadrons of defense, halting Zhongli's forward momentum. On occasion, a piece is set out to bait to lure the consultant in a very obvious and foolhardy feint. Ever rarer is a feint staged three layers deep so that the logical move results with Ajax's laughter as he triumphantly lines up one of Zhongli's pieces on his edge of the board (always fewer than what Zhongli has managed to capture from Ajax's side).

The outside world does not exist. But neither is this the world where Ajax is but a humble toy salesman.

Queen takes knight. ]

[It is fascinating to watch someone reveal themselves in increments with the reckless certainty of a man who does not know how to do anything by half-measures. It is impossible not to when Ajax lays himself so deliberately bare, as if the very act of wanting, of taking, of pursuing, is a game in and of itself. And perhaps that is the most dangerous thing about him, his strength, his wit, the layered way he maneuvers the chessboard, and how he plays as though there is nothing to lose. That boyish grin that never quite reaches his eyes, how it curls with charm, with ease, with something so sweetly dangerous. How insidious.

How deceptive, that something so bright, so warm, could also be so lethal. How his playfulness lapped at the edges of his cold, calculating gaze, like waves against jagged rock, as if it was his own innocence that made him treacherous.

And isn’t that what makes a man truly terrifying?

The casual gamble of a man who does not flinch at risk, who does not hedge his bets. Ajax plays with all or nothing. And he has since the moment he first sat in front of Zhongli on that quiet park afternoon, all boyish charm and too-bright eyes, an open sort of affection, so genuine it almost seems unpracticed, uncalculated, untouched by the world’s cruelty, moving his chess pieces with the same open ease as he threw flirtations as if to say, Here. Have me. Take me. Or don’t. But I won’t hesitate to try anyway.

He knows that true danger is not the blade at one’s throat, nor the weight of a gun pressed firm to the small of one’s back. True danger is the man who smiles as he does it. It is the light in Ajax’s eyes, too bright, too warm, even as his fingers tighten around the edge of control. That is the kind of man who, were he in the same universe as he is, would not hesitate before pulling a trigger.

Zhongli knows better than to believe in idle hands. Knows better than to think that Ajax is unaware of what he is doing. Knows he lets Zhongli notice his gaze flickering to his mouth as though he thinks he is not watching. No, he is making a point. A bold, shameless declaration, a challenge written in the way his fingertips play so idly with the silk of Zhongli’s restraint.

And it is then, with such dangerous thoughts blooming in his mind, that Zhongli shifts his weight ever so slightly, pressing the arch of his foot harder against the inside of Ajax’s thigh.

Ah. What a dangerous thing to test in such a public place.

Zhongli exhales quietly, clears his throat, barely resisting the urge to reach for a cup of tea that isn’t there. His lips feel dry. He wets them absently, pressing them together as if to compose himself as if the subtle heat curling in his stomach could be soothed with anything so simple.

Instead, a quiet chuckle slips from his lips.]

Perhaps, [he muses, tapping a single finger against the board,] I simply enjoy watching you work for it.

[It is a contradiction, really.

Because just as he speaks, he moves the second rook.

The twin to the first. The shadow to its counterpart. A silent piece that had remained unseen, unnoticed, until now. And as it slides into place, Ajax’s king is caught in check.

But by doing so, Zhongli opens a full, unobstructed path towards his own king.

An exposed throat to a blade. A parting of lips to waiting teeth.

It could be a trap.

Or it could be an offering.]

[ Ajax blinks down at the board for one long moment. However, it is not at any particular piece nor with the concentration of formulating his next strategy. No. Instead he looks at just the spot where if the chessboard and table were not in his way, he could see the leather sole of Zhongli's dress shoe press against his thigh, almost slick against the denim of his jeans. He could see how his fingers draw the garter down farther in indulgence or retaliation (perhaps a little bit of column A and a dash of column B) just far enough so his thumb could stroke the now bared skin of Zhongli's anklebone.

But he can "see" neither of these things, only relish in the caress of Zhongli's delicate skin under his fingertips and tense his thighs in restraint to keep himself from doing something he would not regret, but Zhongli might.

Oh, the things he would do if they were not in public. How he might slip under the table and award Zhongli for his boldness. To watch his back arch in pleasure and draw all sorts of wonderful sounds from him while not stripping him of a single article of clothing. Or perhaps he might shove the chessboard to the side and pull the consultant to him across the table, capturing with enthusiasm that mouth that he couldn't keep his eyes off of.

And oh, the things he would do if he did not want to win so very very badly. (Disturbing the chessboard was off the table entirely no matter how much the warmth in his gut wanted to do the thinking for him.)

They are fast approaching end game with enough blood in the water for two sharks to circle without knowing what their true target is. What Zhongli offers is both a trap and an offering, Tartaglia knows this. Zhongli plays with the strategies of someone who wields the inevitability of time as just another weapon in their arsenal. Under normal circumstances, Tartaglia would find such (dare he say) long-term planning to be incredibly tedious and borderline boring, just like listening to the Fatui and the Syndicate prattle on about their contract loopholes.

But Tartaglia also sees the way Zhongli invites his recklessness. Beckons him to press the Vanguard's knife against his throat, a hunter's trap waiting to ensnare. But ah, is there really any thrill greater than pulling a victory from the jaws of defeat— its teeth already dug into one's flesh. And watching the look of triumph in your opponent's eyes change to shock. Change to horror.

Or as Ajax knew (or wanted with a longing he could not explain) to watch Zhongli's expression sharpen to admiration. That Ajax had done well. That he had rightfully earned that praising look from Zhongli.

Work for it indeed. ]

How fortunate for both of us then.

[ Ajax's queen steps in front of the queen, obscuring the rook from its intended target. ]

That I also enjoy the thrill of the chase.

[ Two turns. ]

I hope you find it to your standards, xiansheng.

[ If his king could evade Zhongli's onslaught for just two turns— ]

Mafia AU

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