Once upon a time, Xiao had dreams.
He'd nabbed a martial arts scholarship at Liyue University and was on the road to potentially joining the national team. But then he never picked a major, never went to class, wound up dropping out, and has worked at Brewhaha as the world's meanest barista ever since.
Xiao has told himself for a decade that he'll find something better and get out of this backward university town. And it's been a decade that he's done no such thing, coming to like the quiet routine that he's settled into.
The customers are annoying. He hates going home tired and how his laundry comes out of the dryer still smelling like spoiled milk, but—
It's simple. It's neat. Xiao wakes up every day knowing exactly what to expect, and if he's going to be a somewhat deadbeat in his mid-thirties, he might as well make decent tips.
The clock strikes noon and the cafe door opens with a ding.
Venti gives a long-suffering sigh before elbowing Xiao in the ribs. "All yours," he says before disappearing into the back room.
Xiao doesn't mind, though. Professor Zhongli is another constant in his life. Comes in every day at twelve on the dot for a ridiculously complicated coffee order that everyone else is too chicken to brew. It's second nature to Xiao by now, his fingers already finding the pour-over before Zhongli even reaches the counter.
"The usual, please," he says in a quiet and deep baritone.
"Already started," says Xiao, knocking only the finest, premium blonde roast coffee into the filter. Next is water, precisely ninety-six degrees Celsius, steadily poured by hand for a total of two drips. Xiao's eagle-eye carefully monitors it the entire time.
And Zhongli waits patiently with a gentle and placid gaze.
The brew finishes and is poured into Zhongli's well-worn traveler's mug. Xiao tops it off with the finishings: A jigger of milk and a packet of brown sugar, carefully stirred in with a specially made wooden spoon.
The routine has changed over the decade. In the beginning, Zhongli would come with a colleague and forget his wallet. Childe would pay with a roll of his eyes. A few years later, the mobile app rolled out and Zhongli became more responsible, covering his own tab—except when it comes to tipping; the app doesn't allow for it and he's forgotten that cash exists.
Baristas come and go through the years, but none of them ever want to deal with the older, eccentric man, deeming Zhongli's order too complicated for such little return. So, Xiao does it, and really, the reason is pretty self-serving.
"Thank you, Xiao," says Zhongli when he reaches for his mug.
"Of course," says Xiao, offering him a soft smile.
Zhongli does what he always does—watches his face for a second too long before smiling back, a soft curving of his mouth. So handsome and distinguished. Xiao might be an ornery bastard with a crusty heart, but even he's prone to those thorns burning away.
It might not be a tip, but it's damn close.
#
"I'm just saying that a nice smile doesn't pay the bills."
"You don't even make his order." It isn't a new argument with Venti, it's one they have at least twice a week.
"Archons," bemoans Venti as he leans against the counter, his head thrown back dramatically. "Just tell him."
"Tell him what?"
Venti gives Xiao a bemused look. "Xiao, you've been holding a candle for that old dude for like a decade—"
"Holding a what, now?"
"And like, you're kind of old too—"
"I am not old!"
Venti huffs. "Well, you certainly aren't getting any younger." He nudges Xiao with his shoulder. "Dude, just tell him. It's not a schoolyard crush, I'm pretty sure it's full-blown love—"
"It's a welcome distraction," cuts in Xiao. "A nice fantasy. I'm not suited for anything more."
Venti's young, when compared to him, having worked at the shop for a fraction of the time Xiao has. Still, he gives Xiao a piteous look. "Why on earth would you say something like that?"
"Venti, he's a Professor. He has a doctorate. He's tenured." Xiao sighs as he smooths a hand over his apron. "I'm…I brew coffee for a living."
Venti rolls his eyes before pulling away from the counter. "I'm only going to say this once—" A lie because he says it every time. "—but I'm, like, absolutely certain it's in your favor."
"What does that mean?"
Venti opens his mouth but then the door opens with a ring and they look at the clock. Noon on the dot.
"No—" hisses Xiao when Venti gives him a smirk and a rather explicit gesture. Xiao drags a hand down his face and turns to Zhongli, steeling himself.
"Xiao," says Zhongli kindly, and Xiao smiles softly in return. Venti snorts from where he stands, causing the both of them to look. He rolls his eyes and then turns to the espresso machine, pretending to ignore them.
"He's always so… Hm." Zhongli doesn't finish the thought.
"Annoying?" supplies Xiao, already setting up the pour-over press for Zhongli's drink. "Talks too much, is too loud, and entirely wrong about things that aren't—"
"Xiao." Zhongli cuts in, and Xiao realizes just how aggressively he rambled.
"Ah… sorry, I just—"
Zhongli looks amused. "It's normal to have grievances with your coworkers." Xiao snorts at that, not that he actually dislikes Venti.
"Actually, I have a question for you," continues Zhongli rather unexpectedly.
Xiao blinks as he looks at him, knocking the coffee grounds into the press. Chatting while he makes the drink is a common occurrence, but it's usually him that drives the conversation. Zhongli is the kind of man who listens but rarely initiates anything further.
"A question?"
"It's about the mobile application—" Zhongli says it mo-bile, like an old man with no concept of technology. Xiao remembers spending nearly an hour explaining the app to him when it first rolled out. "There was an update recently."
"Oh yeah. They decided to implement a few new features and adjusted others. Happens from time to time."
"Ah," says Zhongli, his brow raising slightly. "Am I correct in assuming I will be allowed to tip through my phone now?"
Xiao nearly drops the pitcher of hot water in surprise. When he looks at Zhongli, he seems sincere enough, watching Xiao back quietly with a kind expression.
"I must admit," says Zhongli, "I don't think about carrying cash much. Once I leave the cafe it hits me, but I still forget. I'm pleased that I'll be able to adjust my habits."
Xiao blinks slightly at that, his mouth falling open in surprise. "Um, well, you don't have to—"
"Nonsense," says Zhongli with a wave of his hand. "You've put up with my order for years. I know that I have very particular tastes, and truthfully, you are the only one who's ever made it correctly. I must give credit where it is due."
Xiao swallows thickly as he finishes the second pour. "Well, I'm—um, glad to…Look, it's just my job, you know?"
Zhongli's face falls slightly, a stark contrast from his previously bemused expression. Xiao nearly kicks himself, having made the entire situation awkward as heck.
He finishes Zhongli's coffee with his usual flare. Pours it into Zhongli's traveler's mug which feels a little like an old friend nowadays. When he slides it across the counter and Zhongli takes it, their fingers meet for a second.
Xiao realizes that Zhongli hesitates, his hand hanging for a little longer than it should.
"Thank you, Xiao," says Zhongli, pulling back and smiling gently.
And Xiao smiles back and doesn't realize it.
Moments later when Zhongli is gone, Venti reappears. "Is it just me, or did he initiate conversation this time?"
Xiao's mood instantly sours. "Shove it," he murmurs.
Venti rolls his eyes as he logs back into the register. "Uh—" Venti looks at Xiao, his eyes wide. "Remember when they were training us on the updates and said we'd be able to see mobile tips through here?"
"Yes?" Xiao scowls. What a dumb question.
Venti just points at the screen awkwardly and Xiao looks. And looks and looks, and then sees it. "That—that has to be a mistake."
"Half a million Mora, my dude." Venti whistles. "The note says to attribute it to you."
"That—"
"A Mister L., Zhongli. Well, would you look at that?"
Xiao gapes openly, his brain on fire. It can't be real. What an absurd amount of money. He's tempted to reverse the charge entirely, well within his power as a manager.
Venti must see the intent on his face and smacks his hands over the screen of the register. "Don't you dare," he hisses.
"Venti, I—"
"What? Can't take the tips you've been owed for a decade? Come on Xiao, it's not as though his hand slipped and it was an accident."
The moment he says it, they both look at each other. That's definitely something that might happen to Zhongli, considering his inability to understand anything created within the last two decades.
Xiao drags a hand down his face, tiredly, and Venti's face shifts into something a little more mischievous. "You know—"
"Don't say it."
"I told you he had a thing for you."
Ridiculous, thinks Xiao. Still, he can't help the way that his heart beats just a little bit faster at the thought.
#
"I can explain," is the first thing that Zhongli says to him the next day.
Xiao must've had a sort of look about him because the moment they'd met gazes, Zhongli hesitated. He looks nervous, the oddest thing because Zhongli has always been calm and collected, the perfect measure of neat and cool.
"Might you share a cup with me?"
Venti practically throws Xiao into the worn and busted chair in the corner and Zhongli follows primly.
"Why," Xiao finally asks, his voice cracking slightly. "I mean, I figured why, but after all this time—"
"I must admit it's intensely personal." Xiao meets his gaze, blinking slowly. Zhongli hides a half-smile behind his hand.
"It's your order, isn't it? No one else will put up with it." Xiao rolls his eyes. "It's not even that bad, it's just a lot of steps—"
"It's actually your smile," cuts in Zhongli.
His what now? Xiao doesn't smile, he never smiles. He makes a point of being the most ornery bastard alive because he's in his mid-thirties and stuck at a dead-end job that he hates that he loves. Life isn't easy because it is, and he likes the quaint nature of brewing joe for rich bastards every day.
Zhongli most certainly included.
"Ah. That is to say—" Zhongli meets his gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, "Whenever I smile at you, you smile back. Over the years I've become quite attached."
"Attached," repeats Xiao, absurdly flabbergasted. "What do you mean attached?"
Zhongli sips at his coffee before placing it neatly on the table. "I love you." Xiao's mouth drops open and Zhongli puts up a hand to stop him. "I know that's odd, and I know it's—"
"No," blurts Xiao.
Zhongli blinks. "It's perfectly fine if you don't—"
"No, it isn't odd, it's—" Xiao stops, his face burning red. He rubs it, embarrassed. Venti was right, and fuck, if Xiao's heart isn't beating wildly in response.
"Your order—Gods, the only reason I—"
Zhongli's mouth quirks at that. "Ah, so it's mutual then?"
"Very!" yells Venti from the counter, eavesdropping as Xiao knew he would. Xiao would love for the earth to open up and swallow him. It doesn't.
Instead, Zhongli reaches out and gently takes his hand. "An awkward confession, I'll admit, but I've floundered for about a decade."
Absurd, thinks Xiao.
"I'm giving it back," says Xiao, resolutely. "The entire tip. I don't need it, I was happy to put up with you." Apparently enough to smile. Gods, he's an idiot.
"Alright then," says Zhongli, amused. "But only if you agree to dinner."
Xiao does, immediately.
And, he agrees to dinner every night for the rest of their lives.
