Childe promises him that the skates will fit. They do not.

They are similar enough in height, but Zhongli's feet are, apparently, a smidge larger. He struggles to get his foot into the boot, even with all his tugging at the laces and leather. Childe watches with an amused grin, a smile hidden behind his hand.

"This is your fault," mutters Zhongli. He is so rarely annoyed, but Snezhnaya is cold, and Zhongli is—at his core—a lizard. His joints ache and his lungs wheeze, and he hates the ice and snow, and he wishes that he was tucked into blankets instead, basking in the warmth, and—

"Probably," says Childe without an ounce of guilt. "I thought we might've had the kind that just straps to your shoe and adjusts, but Ma says that Pa threw those out years ago. Gotta make do."

Zhongli gives Childe a critical look, his eyebrows drawn high and his mouth flattened into an unamused line. "We could be not doing this."

"Nonsense! You can't come to Snezhnaya and not go ice skating! Consider it a right of passage." Zhongli can think of far better things to do than slide across a dubious-looking frozen lake at the peak of winter. Childe sighs, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "Okay, okay, I know that you don't like the cold—"

"I will remind you that I am, essentially, cold-blooded in nature." Kind of. Depending on the day. Zhongli crafts himself as he sees fit.

"Right, so you say. But—this is a warm winter. Normally it's blizzard conditions around this time of year. We're lucky!"

If this is Childe's definition of lucky, Zhongli should reevaluate everything that he knows about the man, starting first with their friendship. Because that's what Childe told his parents, despite them sharing a bed and clothes, and those lingering glances and touches that last a little bit too long.

Yeah, they aren't fooling anyone.

Zhongli finally manages to shove his foot into the boot of the skate, toes crammed into the end painfully. He winces, but ties up the laces.

Childe helps him to a wobbly stand. "There we go," he says softly, taking Zhongli's mittens into his palms. Zhongli toddles about like a newborn foal, but they manage to inch their way to the edge of the lake.

Once there, the ice stares back at him, foreboding and barren. Zhongli thinks that he's made a mistake.

"It's only a bit of ice," says Childe, his mouth warm near his ear. Childe squeezes his shoulders and then the comforting touch is gone as he moves to stand before him instead, arms held out for Zhongli to hold onto.

"Ajax, have I ever told you that I sink like a rock when it comes to water?"

Childe blinks. "You can't swim?"

"That isn't what I said." Zhongli can certainly swim, but he's a dragon of Geo, and his feet belong firmly planted on the earthen ground.

Childe's expression warms. He pulls off Zhongli's glove and smooths a thumb over the back of his knuckles. Then, Childe tugs his hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it, and just like that Zhongli's apprehension melts right away. So easily done in by a kiss of affection, so simple at its core.

Zhongli truly has become wholly smitten, and Xiao is right to tease him about it.

"You ready?" asks Childe, tugging Zhongli's mitten back on.

"No," says Zhongli.

He still goes with him.

#

Childe promises him that he knows how to ice skate. He does not.

To the east of Morepesok is the ocean, salted with brine as the high tide washes against the rocky beach. To the west, is a lake, small enough to freeze in a thick layer to enjoy a day out on. Childe prefers to fish, but insisted that skating was a must-do activity. But, now that they're out there, just at the edge of the lake, the only ones dumb enough to be out and about in such bitter cold, Zhongli knows that he's been duped.

Childe's legs are just as shaky, as he leads him out. He manages to skate backward, but only just barely—so either he's out of practice, or he was never good at it, to begin with. Zhongli knows Childe and his tendency to over-exaggerate at times, so he assumes the latter.

"Slowly, slowly—"

"For your benefit, or mine?" Zhongli only means to tease, but Childe still trips over the ice. He goes down and down and down, fingers still curled tightly around Zhongli's.

They tumble across the ice, Zhongli sprawled over Childe. Childe looks dangerously relaxed underneath him, like it's exactly where he belongs. Zhongli swallows thickly, willing instinctual lizard-brain thoughts right away.

Still, he can't deny the heat of Childe's body through his trousers, or the pink tinge to his cheeks from the cold. Zhongli leans closer to him, seeking out the warmth and soaking it up.

"I thought you said you were cold-blooded," says Childe with a laugh.

"I said essentially."

"Hm." Childe isn't wearing the same thick and heavy gloves that Zhongli insisted upon, so he's able to curl his fingers into the lapels of Childe's coat and pull him closer. "I don't know, you feel pretty warm to me."

It is quiet. Childe's breath puffs between them as his laughter quiets. Zhongli loves it when he's like this, softened and enamored. Childe is a man bracketed by high and sharp edges, and Zhongli is honored that he's one of the few that he trusts so implicitly.

"What are you thinking?" asks Childe softly.

Zhongli watches him back fondly. "That I want to kiss you."

"Oh? What's keeping you?"

It's cold, Zhongli's nose drips, and even if there is no one out there, they're still a stone's throw from his home which is right there. Someone could come at any moment, and considering that Childe introduced him as a good friend, there might be confusion as to why they are kissing—

Childe pulls him down and slots their mouths together in a sweet touch. It is slow. His mouth is warm and inviting. Zhongli laughs as pulls back to kiss the tip of his reddened nose.

"Come on, you have to give me more than that," teases Childe.

So Zhongli does. He grips his chin in his mittened hand and tugs Childe's mouth up. He kisses him fiercely this time, tongue sneaking out to lick into his mouth. It's still leisurely and languid, but it's all encompassing as they just kiss and kiss and kiss.

Everything melts away. All there is is Childe, and the warmth of this mouth, and how eagerly he responds to his touch. Zhongli all forgets about the snow that Childe is pressed into, or the ice that is cold and wet against his knees. All he thinks of is Childe, Ajax, and how much his heart aches at the thought and feel of him.

There is a cough that they both miss, from just over the ridge, not fifteen paces away. And then another, a little bit louder. Zhongli pulls away, looks up and meets the face of Childe's mother. She watches back with eyebrows raised, a smirk plastered across her face.

Oh, Celestia above.

Childe winces, already knowing. "That's… that's my Ma, isn't it?"

"Yes. It would seem that our guise as friends didn't last long."

"Look, about that—"

"Later, Ajax."

"No, now. I wasn't trying to hide it or anything, I just thought it'd be easier to sit down and talk about it." He pauses, dragging a hand down his face. "Not that Ma believed me. I think she's known from the moment she saw us."

Zhongli looks back at him. "You do wear your feelings right on your sleeve." He kisses Childe's cold forehead and rolls off of him. Zhongli crawls back to the muddy edge of the lake, and struggles to his feet. Childe's mother picks her away across the ground.

"You," she starts, holding out a hand to help Zhongli steady himself. He panics, looking back to Childe who is still trying to pull himself up. "Zhongli." Her mouth curls around his name. She slips her arm through his and tugs him close to her side.

"You will explain to my husband," she says in the Standard tongue, thickly accented.

"Er, explain?" Just what, exactly?

"Yes." She pats his arm and then smiles. "He lost the bet, but he will not believe me. So you will tell him—all about you, and my little Ajax."

"Ma!"

Oh. Oh. Zhongli laughs, pressing his hand to his brow, incredulous. Childe was right, of course; his mother had not only known, she'd made a bet with his father.

Her gaze softens slightly and she squeezes his forearm. "Come. You are cold, and you do not belong out here. And you—" She looks at Childe and tuts, unimpressed. His mother says nothing else as she tugs Zhongli along.

Zhongli isn't one to gloat, but he shoots Childe a look that says, very clearly, I told you so. Childe makes a rude gesture back, and then loses his balance again, face-planting right back into the ice.

Childe's mother tuts once more, shaking her head. "Never mind him," she says, "But you—tell me. Tell me everything."

Zhongli lets himself be led back to the house. "He might tell you something different, but for me… well, perhaps it was love at first sight. In a way." He finds the story easy to tell. Bearing his heart comes naturally.

Childe's mother sighs softly, her face crinkling with joy.