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Childe is used to hearing the ‘Oh my god’s and similar various forms of devout claims during sex. He is not even bragging. It is just one of the facts of life. The earth revolves around the sun; the area of a triangle is half of its base into its height; and Childe’s dick makes girls and guys alike believe in religion, and possibly heaven.
But he has never heard an “Oh my god” quite like this. The voice sounds more alarmed and scared than blissful and climaxing. He is starting to worry if there is something wrong with his dick before he becomes aware of the front door opening.
“You said you live alone!” The girl who was in between his legs two seconds ago shrieks, grabbing the throw pillow on the couch that Childe is sitting on to cover up her naked torso, which is a shame, because she has really nice boobs.
“I do.” Childe replies. “That’s just Scaramouche.” He raises a hand at said Scaramouche, who throws his spare keycard onto the side table and nods back at him.
“What the hell.” The girl says. “Put your pants back on!”
“Oh, I’ve seen worse, sweetheart. Don’t bother,” Scaramouche waves a hand and takes off his coat. “Tartaglia, I am crashing here tonight.”
It is a statement – not a question or a request – as it always is with Scaramouche. Childe just shrugs back since he is more focused on the girl who is now getting dressed.
“You are leaving?”
“Erm, yeah?” The girl looks at him like he is the one who is crazy – as if he is the one leaving in the middle of sex. “Seems like you’d be busy.”
“No, it’s just Scaramouche.” Childe repeats, but she is already buttoning her coat.
“I’ll see you on Monday?” The girl says, tiptoeing to give Childe a kiss and Childe absentmindedly kisses her back, pretty sure that she won’t be seeing him. He doesn’t really have any plan on going back to her gym after tonight, but now that Scaramouche has cockblocked him, he doesn’t mind going back again, but the trial period he signed up for at the gym she is teaching Yoga at had already expired so that’s a bummer.
“You owe me a blow job.” Childe tells Scaramouche after the girl leaves and he has to regretfully put his pants back on.
Scaramouche doesn’t even bother lifting his head out of the fridge where he is probably raiding all of Childe’s food. “Your dick looks smaller than I remember. Did it shrink? You know I don’t blow guys smaller than 6.5”
“My dick is still the biggest you’ve ever had,” Childe mumbles. “Leftover Chinese on second shelf.”
Scaramouche happily takes out the containers and comes to sit down at the small kitchen island. Childe pours him the wine he was using to woo the extremely hot Yoga instructor since he might as well just finish the bottle.
“Did you finally burn down your apartment to claim insurance?” Childe asks as Scaramouche shoves an impossibly big pork rib piece into his mouth.
“Fuck, no.” Scaramouche grumbles back. “You know I am still on the watch list after the previous four insurance scams I pulled.”
“Yes, I am well aware of your criminal record. Why are you here? Do you know how many useless Yoga sessions I had to sit through to get her to agree to a date?”
“Of course, I don’t. For some of us, the challenge is stopping people from wanting to sleep with us, Tartaglia.” Scaramouche says seriously, and Childe just rolls his eyes. He’d argue back but both of them know that most people throw themselves at Scaramouche’s feet at every single chance anyway. “Anyway, I am here because my housemate is crying and throwing a fit.”
“The med student? You finally got to him?” Childe raises an eyebrow and pours himself another glass. See, Scaramouche pulls this business project (or in street talk, scam) where he rents out the extra bedroom in his apartment to naïve and hopeful small-town kids, and annoy/scare/traumatize them for life until they give up on the security deposit and run back to wherever rat hole they come out from. But the last one, a barely 21 years old from Inazuma who had a permanent scowl/confused look on his face, refuses to leave no matter how many times Scaramouche walks around the house naked or schedules an orgy. From Childe’s experience, a lot of the guy house mates easily leave once Scaramouche brings a guy (or three) over, but this one has been stubborn.
“Nah, I told you I don’t mind him.”
Childe snorts. “That’s the first sign that he should run.”
“He sold my iMac after he found out I was charging him triple the market price for rent. I respect that kind of hustle.” Scaramouche shrugs.
“You got that iMac back yet?” Childe asks. Scaramouche has been dead livid a few days ago because Gorou, the med student, sold his computer off in an attempt of petty revenge and he has been trying to get it back.
“Yeah, he sold it to his church pastor. Noob. I got it back after I cried at them about how it was the graduation present from my grandma before she passed away.”
Childe snorts. “Both of your grandmas are still living.”
“So?” Scaramouche shrugs. “Anyway, he says he’ll pay the same amount for the rent as me and that he is not moving, so I said fine, you know.”
“Then why is he throwing a fit now?”
“Oh, today’s his birthday.” Scaramouche says.
“And?”
“And I fucked his fiancée on his birthday cake.”
Oh, there it is, but Childe has to ask the important questions here.
“He is like 21. Why does he have a fiancée?”
“I know, right?” Scaramouche wrinkles his nose. “Elementary school sweethearts and everything. I mean, it’s gross. How in love Gorou is with that chick.”
“So, you fucked her?”
“No,” Scaramouche looks weirdly offended. “I fucked her because she is a bitch who’s been sleeping around, and she doesn’t even try to hide it, like I found condoms in her bag and Gorou has been very vocal about waiting until the marriage.”
“Questions about why you were looking through her bag aside, maybe she’s saving them for something else.” Childe shrugs.
“For what? To make balloon animals?” Scaramouche snorts. “Plus, it takes a slut to recognize a slut. I mean, you know I am all for it, dude. Spread your love and spread your legs, ya know. But she agreed to get engaged in a monogamy relationship. For money, by the way. She told me when I was taking her dress off, and that’s another thing. She talks so fucking much.”
“You talk like you haven’t fucked married men for money.” Childe rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, but I don’t know their wives.” Scaramouche shrugs. Scaramouche’s moral compass, if he ever possesses one, is pretty crappy and weird to understand in the first place so Childe doesn’t argue further.
“So, he caught you two?”
“Yeah,” Scaramouche nods. “After that, it was easy, you know. To steer the conversation towards her previous hook ups and then they were fighting and she was calling him boring and he was crying and I just left.”
“Shouldn’t you be like, I don’t know, consoling him or something?”
“Ew, no.” Scaramouche says and stands up, all leftover gone. “For what? He should be thanking me, for showing him the cruel reality of the world.”
“And yet, I was the one cruelly left here without a blow job.”
“My god, Tartaglia, you are so noisy.” Scaramouche glares at him. “I will blow you myself if you are that horny. Let me just go brush my teeth first so your dick doesn’t smell like garlic.”
“Forget it.” Childe waves a hand. “Hey, there’s a vodka launch party Tuesday night, you in?”
“Duh. Who else are you gonna take?”
“Plenty of choices.” Childe snorts.
“Yeah, but can any of them dazzle the cameras like I do?”
No. No, they really can’t.
Scaramouche left around fuck-early-o’clock in the morning. Childe felt him get up from the bed he was sharing with him and got out of the room but Childe was too sleep-ridden to be asking him where he was going.
When he finally wakes up, it is half past 9 in the morning and Scaramouche has left him about three messages – two of them with accompanying videos. The first one has Scaramouche with his arm around Gorou, surprisingly.
“I was right, Tartaglia!” Scaramouche is yelling into the phone. “He says me fucking his bitch fiancée is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him.”
“Yeah,” Gorou yells manically into the phone. “I WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN OTHERWISE IF IT WASN’T FOR KUNIKUZUSHI AND I AM FREE NOW!”
Childe winces and turns down the volume on his phone before going to the next video message, which is just a few seconds of a guy dancing in a club before the camera focuses back on Scaramouche. “I am going to sleep with him but he is pinging my creep-o-meter a little bit, you know, he’s still hot but in a serial killer kind of way. Anyway, if you don’t hear back from me by morning, find that guy. Love you. Bye.”
Childe snorts and reads the last message from Scaramouche which is just a string of badly spelled words saying he is back home.
Childe shakes his head, ignores the other messages, some from the hot Yoga instructor and some from work, and tries to find his orange juice, which he just bought two days back. He did find the empty carton in the rubbish bin, so yeah, probably Scaramouche. And the leftovers he was saving for breakfast were also ravished by the same fucker last night so guess Childe is eating breakfast outside today then.
Childe has met Scaramouche at a bar the first day after he turned 18. They slept together two hours after the first time they said hi, Childe had a good time and Scaramouche left with Childe’s most expensive Raf Simons hoodie in the morning. In hindsight, that encounter seems to foreshadow the kind of relationship he will have with Scaramouche all through his adult life.
He really did not expect to see Scaramouche after their one-night stand, not until Scaramouche walked into the dance class Childe was in back then, all dressed in Childe’s Raf Simons hoodie and eyes dripping with honey at the instructor who was a good 15 years older than them.
Childe just wanted his hoodie back; he didn’t expect to end up with an avalanche of a human being as a best friend 5 years later.
But that is what they are. Best friends, in the probably most dysfunctional way but still best friends.
Scaramouche is firey and bright and calculating and narcissist and probably needs at least two lifetimes of counseling, but he loves Childe because Childe loves him just as the magnificent disaster that he is, and it is not like Childe is some outstanding citizen of morals and ethics. Sure, he is not running around scamming people or sleeping with married dudes, but he has his moments, and Scaramouche gets him and that is enough.
“Thank me,” Scaramouche says out of the blue and Childe raises an eyebrow but keeps his eye on the filter he is choosing for his latest Instagram photo.
“Dream on, bitch.”
“Uh uh,” Scaramouche tsks, looking over Childe’s shoulder and pointing at a black and white filter. “That one. It makes your biceps look more impressive.”
“Hmm,” Childe contemplates, and Scaramouche smacks him on the head.
“Use it. That is why you don’t even have half of my follower number.”
“I don’t have half of your follower number because I don’t pose blatant ass shots.” Childe fires back but uses that filter anyway.
“No, but you have plenty of abs shots, which by the way, I haven’t seen from you in, what, two weeks?”
“You track my photos?”
“You know half of my brain capacity is used for cataloguing Instagram matters.” Scaramouche says. “Did you gain some love muffin? Are the washboard abs gone? What am I gonna do body shots on now?”
“You can still lick salt off of my abs, don’t worry.” Childe lifts his shirt and Scaramouche pats at his abs. “I am reeling in the hoe shots a bit because I’ve been wooing this guy.”
“Ergh,” Scaramouche groans. “Another pretty preppy dude? I don’t know what you see in them, man. They are boring and probably also bad at sex.”
“They are not,” Childe says distractedly and posts the photo to Instagram.
“You only like them because they are all groupies. Oooh, it’s Childe, that hot choreographer from YouTube. I bet he can do a handstand during sex as well.”
“No one can do a handstand during sex.” Childe puts down his phone and says. “What were you asking me to thank you about?”
“Oh, yeah,” Scaramouche brightens up. “So, I’ve been seeing this girl for a while, and turns out her sister is interested in a threesome –”
“Fast forward to the part where it is relevant to me,” Childe waves a hand and says.
“She works at an entertainment company. She says they are looking for a non-idol dancer for their new idol dancing shows. Kind of trainer slash judge, you know. The plans are not public yet but supposed to be high profile.”
Well, that does interest him. Childe has been trying to break into the television scene because while he and his studio have a solid footing in the online scene, it has been a little harder to get into the TV and the idol industry because it is already as saturated as it is.
“And guess who got an invite to one of that company’s show launch parties where the main producer of that dance show is attending?”
“Nice,” Childe raises his hand for a high five, but Scaramouche just shakes his finger at him.
“Nah-ah.”
“Thanks?”
“Better, but try harder.” Scaramouche grins.
“I love you?”
“Fuck off.”
Childe rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you drinks.”
“You already always buy me drinks.” Scaramouche says. “I want new sunglasses.”
“Urgh, fine.” Childe gives in. “I need to go shopping for my new video anyway. Tomorrow?”
“What would you ever do without me, Tartaglia?”
Childe met Ayato at the café he frequently visits, partly because the drinks there are cheap but mostly because it is close to the city center and a lot of hot people hang out there, ranging from wanna be models to students from nearby universities. Ayato is the latter category.
He is a little too snobbish and high maintenance for Childe’s liking, but it is not like Childe is out husband hunting. Ayato is pretty enough and Childe likes the way he laughs, which is a strange thing to have as an ideal thing, but whatever. It could be worse. Ayato also has no idea that Childe is a relatively famous dancer. Childe’s dance videos get an average of 1.5 million views with the higher count ending at 5 million in that one video where he gyrated on the floor to Beyoncé’s Hold Up. A lot of people he slept with more or less know him – Scaramouche wasn’t wrong about groupies. It is kind of a new thing, for Childe to show his videos to Ayato like he is waiting for his approval almost.
It is also a new thing for Childe to keep seeing Ayato after the first fuck. It is not like he hasn’t dated before but it has been quite long since he saw the same person for more than two or three weeks, and it had almost been a month with Ayato. Sure, Ayato feels a little too rigid for Childe but maybe that is just what Childe needs – someone who knows how normal relationship works to counter balance him.
Childe decided to introduce Ayato to Scaramouche after they started seeing each other for a month. It’s a thing they do – he and Scaramouche. There is no point introducing each other to the people they sleep with given that it is a shit load, but they do make an effort to let each other know if sleeping has turned into dating.
So, Childe arranges a brunch – “That already sounds pretentious as fuck. Who is this bitch you are seeing?” and asks Scaramouche to dress in his best appropriate shirt. Scaramouche turns up with Gorou– he says it is to let Gorou regulate the conversation since Gorou is such a normie and Childe does appreciate the effort.
Things go ok for the first few minutes after the introduction until Ayato leans onto Childe’s arm and says. “What’s good here, babe? Can you help me order?”
“Veto.” Scaramouche yells and Childe groans. See, this is what he was hoping not to happen.
“Veto what?” Gorou asks and Ayato turns to Scaramouche in the same puzzled expression.
“Him,” Scaramouche points at Ayato and says. “I veto him. Tartaglia, he is vetoed.”
Childe sighs and takes Ayato’s hand off of his arm. “I am really sorry, babe, but me and Scaramouche have this thing where we have the power to veto the person the other one is seeing if we don’t like that person.”
“You can’t be serious,” Ayato blinks.
“Sadly, no. So, yeah, I think we should just go now, but come back some other time to try the bread rolls here. They are amazing.”
“I don’t get it. Ayato is hot and rich, and he likes me.” Childe says, munching on the olives that Scaramouche does not touch from his martini. Brunch was a bust so now they are at Scaramouche’s idea of a lunch – a martini bar with peanuts for nutrition.
“He also has a stick up his ass that I can see from three miles away.” Scaramouche shrugs. “Look, dude, this is for you, ok? Some people have gaydar. I have Tartaglia-is-about-to-get-heartbroken-dar. He is dating you because you are one motorcycle and tragic back story away from the dangerous bad boy type. He’ll run once he realizes he can’t change you into the demure and obedient boyfriend he can leash around.”
“That’s harsh,” Childe sulks.
“Life is harsh, Tartaglia.” Scaramouche says thoughtfully. “At least, I gave you solid reasoning. You vetoed Kazuha because he has about fifty thousand more subscribers than you.”
“I vetoed him because he is an asshole.”
Scaramouche just rolls his eyes. Yes, Childe did veto Scaramouche from seeing Kazuha because he is not above stopping his best friend from dating one of his professional rivals if he can, and now it is coming back to bite him in the ass.
Childe really did like Ayato.
“Whatever. I am going to the studio. Got a class to teach at 4.”
“3:30,” Scaramouche says.
“No, 4.”
“I posted a change of timing post on your dance studio Instagram.” Scaramouche shrugs. “It takes 15 minutes to get to your studio from here and 10 minutes to prep so that should be enough for you to make it in time. I don’t want you idling around and thinking about what-is-his-face.”
“I hate you,” Childe says and jumps off the bar stool. Now, he has to rush back to the studio.
“Pay for your drinks before you leave, bitch.” Scaramouche yells at him but Childe just throws him a middle finger.
Childe meant to honor the veto. He really did.
Except, you know, Ayato turns up at his place late at night, alcohol and the coldness making his face flushed and adorable even when he is yelling in Childe’s face about how Childe is a horrible person and a more horrible boyfriend and Childe stops him by kissing him, partly because he looks cute and partly because this will be the third round if the neighbors complain again about noise disturbance.
And then kissing turns into sex and sex turns into promises made in ecstasy about dates and boyfriends, and Childe finds himself dating Ayato again the next morning.
Childe does not mention that he is still seeing Ayato the next time he meets Scaramouche. It is not like Scaramouche and Ayato run in the same circle anyway. Ayato is more art galleries and musicals and hipster cafés whereas Scaramouche is more parties and rowdy bars and sex clubs.
Ayato keeps pestering Childe though – to meet with Scaramouche once more, which Childe knows, is for Ayato to rub it in Scaramouche’s face that Childe is still seeing him despite the veto, and Childe knows better than to follow through. Ayato leaves bitter comments asking whether Childe is waiting until they eventually break up so he will never have to tell Scaramouche about them, and honestly, part of Childe agrees. But he also knows how to pretend to be a good boyfriend so he does not openly admit that and distracts Ayato with gifts and sex and plenty of compliments until Ayato drops the topic.
Except Ayato keeps hanging out at Childe’s place because who wouldn’t. Half of his money goes into paying the rent since his place is fucking amazing. And Scaramouche uses his spare key any time he likes so Childe supposes he shouldn’t be as shocked when Scaramouche eventually turns up when he and Ayato were watching a French film that Ayato is supposed to be dissecting for a class. Childe is not sure what he is more ashamed of – the fact that Scaramouche catches him with Ayato or the fact that he catches them cuddling.
“I vetoed him, Tartaglia.” Scaramouche crosses his arms and says, lips pursed and brows raised. “What is he doing here?”
“That is not how friendship works.” Ayato cuts in before Childe can open his mouth. “You can’t just veto your friend’s boyfriend. No friend has that much control over each other’s life.”
“We do, and also use some toner. I can see myself in the reflection of your oily face surface.”
“Scara, let’s talk.” Childe jumps up from the couch and takes Scaramouche by the hand to drag him into the small kitchen, shooting an apologetic glance at Ayato.
“Unless you want to tell me that he is the son of the richest man on earth and you are scamming him for his inheritance, there is no other explanation to make this better.”
“I am not scamming him,” Childe grits. “Look, how about we not do the veto thing anymore?”
“What the fuck,” Scaramouche pulls his arm out of Childe’s grasp. “You can’t veto the veto.”
“Well, I am doing it anyway. I am gonna veto the veto.”
“This isn’t gonna work.”
“Scara,” Childe sighs. “Maybe you are right and I might get heartbroken or whatever, but at least, that’d be on my own terms, and not yours.”
“Oh, I don’t mean you and him.” Scaramouche says curtly. “I mean you and me.”
“You are dumping me out of our friendship?” Childe blinks. Sure, Scaramouche gets mad at him from time to time and they are more often than not yelling at each other in the face, but Scaramouche never truly gets mad at him. “Just because I am seeing a guy you don’t like?”
“No, because you didn’t keep your promise and you lied to me.”
“You lie all the time!” Childe says exasperatedly. “Your whole adulthood is based on lying people out of their money.”
“Not to you.” Scaramouche says stubbornly. “I’d never lie to you for money.”
“No,” Childe snorts. “You’d just say Tartaglia give me 50,000 mora and then I’ll never see that money again.”
“Exactly,” Scaramouche points a finger at him. “I’d never lie to you because I value our friendship, but you don’t. So, we are done. Enjoy your time with oily face and don’t crawl back to me when his highness finally dumps you.”
“You can’t survive a day without me.” Childe rolls his eyes. “You’d be either too broke or bored. And who’s gonna come and bail you out of jail?”
“I have Gorou and plenty of sugar daddies,” Scaramouche waves a hand. “Worry about yourself. You’d degrade back to the boring townie before I raised you up by the scruff of your neck into the man that you are today.”
“Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?”
“I hear nothing but the truth.” Scaramouche says and grabs the brand-new wine bottle Childe got from a fan the other day. “I am taking this as compensation for all the time and emotions I have wasted on you.”
“You have no emotions!” Childe yells after him but Scaramouche just takes off, leaving his spare key on the side table next to the door.
“He’s an asshole,” Ayato turns to Childe and says.
“I know,” Childe sighs. “He’ll come back when he has no money to pay his rent or wants someone to go to a party with.”
“You sound like you are waiting for it.” Ayato raises an eyebrow. “Just let it be. Don’t be friends with him anymore. It doesn’t look like it’d be a huge loss.”
“It’s Scaramouche.” Childe says. It is Scaramouche and Childe, has always been. It doesn’t make sense to be Scaramouche minus Childe or Childe minus Scaramouche. Scaramouche will come back when he realizes that as well. “Anyway, I have the night free. What do you want to do?”
“How about you come and meet with my friends for a change? Maybe you’d actually get to see what friends are supposed to be like.”
Childe breaks up with Ayato a week after he met with Ayato’s friends; one of the reasons is because he can feel Ayato getting more and more on edge as time goes on and he starts to realize Childe is never gonna be the prim and proper and all faux-intelligent kind of people that all his friends are. And another is because Childe can blatantly see that Ayato is probably in love with one of the guys from the group of his friends – his blonde friend who looks too dense to feel Ayato’s lingering gaze at him, but that is Ayato’s battle to fight.
Also, Ayato has been getting more and more prickly with Childe and making snide comments about Childe’s social circle and his career and his life – way too much for someone who’s been seeing Childe for a grand total of less than two months, so Childe breaks up with him before Ayato could. Childe never gets dumped.
Childe would be lying if he says he is not affected in the slightest though. Despite the annoyance outweighing a lot of the goods, Ayato is still a fun one and it kind of sucks that Childe does miss him a little bit.
“Are you and Kunikuzushi still not talking?” Gorou asks one day over lunch. Childe does not even remember when he got close enough with Gorou to be regularly getting lunch together, but it’s been happening for a while now, even before Scaramouche’s dramatic exit out of his life. “It’s been a week. Have you ever gone a week without talking to each other?”
“Yeah,” Childe shrugs. “When Scara got hospitalized from alcohol poisoning that one time and couldn’t talk for a week because he has a tube shoved down his throat. Wait, I think that was only five days.”
Gorou blinks. “I want to ask but I also don’t want to. Anyway, when are you guys gonna make up? It feels weird, you know. It’s like when my mom and dad got separated for like a month and they make me choose who I want to stay with on weekends.”
“We are not your parents.”
“And I thank god daily for that.” Gorou deadpans. “But since you, you know, already broke up with your boyfriend, why don’t you talk to Kunikuzushi?”
“Why should I talk to him?” Childe rolls his eyes. “He was the one who dumped me. And, why are you pushing me but not Scara?”
“Because you are the slightly more normal one.”
Childe just drowns his afternoon whiskey.
When Childe does talk to Scaramouche again, it isn’t really in the way Childe was expecting.
He runs into Scaramouche at a Gucci launch party – on the arm of a relatively well-known designer, probably older than both of their mothers. Childe also happens to know her because she sponsored one of Childe’s choreography videos before.
“Childe,” she calls at him, red glittery nails glistening under the neon light as she beckons him over while Scaramouche smiles saccharine sweet at him. Childe rolls his eyes internally. “Oh, it is so good to see you again. This is Kunijiro. He’s an aspiring actor.”
Childe tries his best not to snort. Scaramouche is first of all, not a Kunijiro, and second of all, he is already an actor and the only thing he is aspiring for now is probably her money and maybe a new branded bag.
“Oh, we know each other.” Scaramouche says almost shyly. “Actually, we haven’t met in a while. Do you mind if I catch up with him for a minute?”
“Sure, darling.”
Scaramouche doesn’t even wait for the sentence to end before grabbing Childe by the hand and dragging him into the slightly more crowded area where conversation noises are already a cacophony.
“If you ruin this for me,” Scaramouche’s grip on Childe’s arm tightens as he whispers into Childe’s ear with a smile. “I swear to god I will drive your car into a river.”
“Relax, Kunijiro.” Childe says, emphasis on the ‘Kunijiro’ and Scaramouche rolls his eyes but he seems to be calming down from the way he grabs two champagne glasses from a passing by waiter before handing one to Childe. “How does she not know we are friends? We are literally 50% of each other’s Instagram feed.”
“She’s technologically dumb.” Scaramouche waves a hand. “Plus, I deleted all your photos from my feed. Didn’t you notice?”
“No, because you blocked me. Remember?”
“You only have one Instagram account?” Scaramouche raises an eyebrow. “Jeez. I thought you’d have some sock accounts at least for trolling. Lame.”
Childe just shakes his head. “So, we are talking again now?”
“I am still mad at you.” Scaramouche says.
“I broke up with Ayato.” Childe says as a peace offering.
“I know. Gorou mentioned.” Scaramouche smirks. “Let me guess. He is annoying and also wants you to be as annoying as he is.”
Childe just shrugs.
“Wow. Fake sarcastic shock … I was right???” Scaramouche says with a comical hand-over-the-mouth pose and Childe flicks him on the forehead just for it.
“You were right but I broke up with him because I wanted to, not because of some stupid veto thing we agreed on when we were 21 and stupid.”
“You were … still are the stupid one. I was never.” Scaramouche says primly before giving Childe his empty champagne glass. “Gotta go back to the lady who’s paying my rent this month.”
Childe just laughs and watches Scaramouche plays the naïve shy young guy to a tee throughout the night to a very oblivious and smitten woman. Scaramouche looks over at Childe at one point when everyone’s attention is on the singer performing on the stage, and gives him a wink.
And that’s how Childe knows they are back to being okay again.
Scaramouche drops by the very next day, still dressed in the same suit as last night from the Gucci party and goes straight to the fridge.
“I thought you left your key here.” Childe says. He’s been watching Scaramouche as he walked in, casual as you please, from the small home gym that he had set up in the corner of his studio. It is nice that Scaramouche is here but he needs to finish up his daily routine of 100 pull-ups first.
“I hid an extra one in that dead plant pot outside.” Scaramouche shrugs and then closes the fridge. “Why do you have no food? I am ordering in. Pizza?”
“Sure,” Childe says and does his 57th pull-ups.
Scaramouche’s voice calls at him again when he reaches his 65th one. “Dude, they are saying your credit card is no longer valid.”
“Yeah,” Childe grits his teeth and huffs out a breath. “I lost it last Thursday. The replacement one is supposed to come in tomorrow.”
“Ergh. Now I have to pay for my food too?” Scaramouche mutters but goes back to ordering on the phone while Childe finishes the rest of his routine.
“Stop exercising so much.” Scaramouche says after Childe has finally finished up and goes into the kitchen. “Too much muscle is not an attractive look.”
Childe hip checks him out of the way so he can get a water bottle out of the fridge. “Speak for your lazy self. You got enough for rent last night?”
“And more.” Scaramouche shrugs and jumps up onto the kitchen island. “I am set for like at least two months.”
“Found a good one, huh?” Childe snorts and drowns half of the bottle.
Scaramouche just shrugs back at him.
“What’s the plan for tonight? I don’t have any class.”
“I am laying low for a while.” Scaramouche says, legs swaying back and forth. “Wanna watch a movie and cuddle?”
“You?” Childe laughs. “Want to cuddle? Fully-clothed?”
Scaramouche kicks at him. “Why? You are ok with cuddling with your stupid face boyfriend but not me?”
Childe just rolls his eyes. “Stop bringing up my stupid face ex-boyfriend. And while we are at it, let’s not do the veto thing anymore. It is annoying.”
“No.” Scaramouche says firmly.
“Why not?”
“Who is the first person I’ve vetoed you from ever dating?” Scaramouche asks.
“You.”
“Yeah, it still stands.”
Childe dated – in a very loose term – Scaramouche after they first met. It mainly means a lot of kisses and sex and clubbing together and getting wasted/high together. Scaramouche wasn’t hiding that fact that he was sleeping around and neither was Childe. Those were really good times back then, at least until Scaramouche wants them to stop having sex and Childe didn’t really argue even though he wanted to because to be honest, he was more concerned with not having Scaramouche in his life than not having sex with Scaramouche. Scaramouche told him that he didn’t want to sleep around with Childe anymore and to just be friends, and Childe agreed. He has never particularly regretted saying yes, but he sometimes wondered what would have happened if he had just pushed a little.
“Listen, I was the one who started this veto thing.” Childe says to Scaramouche over pizza. “I can take it back if I want to.”
“No, you cannot.” Scaramouche replies back strongly. “You started it but now it is a two-party thing.”
“You really don’t want me to date you, huh?” Childe says. “Am I supposed to be offended?”
Scaramouche just stares at him before nodding. “Yes to the not-dating part. No to the offended part. I don’t want you to date me because I like you.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Tartaglia,” Scaramouche sighs. “You have to know, right? You are literally the only constant person I have in my life outside of my blood relationship. I’d rather die than date you and then break up with you and lose you.”
“You dumped me just last week.”
“Let’s not act like both of us didn’t know we are gonna be back here again.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes, and touché.
“So, why can’t we at least have sex?” Childe asks again. “Even if you don’t want to date. You told me you wanted to stop sleeping with me too.”
“Sex is supposed to be fun, not, I don’t know, mixed with emotions.”
“You like me so much you were getting emotional when we were fucking?” Childe blinks. “Damn.”
“Stop twisting my words, idiot.” Scaramouche says. “It’s easier to be friends with you.”
Childe sighs. “I vetoed you from dating Kazuha not because he was a more famous dancer than me. It was because I thought you genuinely liked him.”
Scaramouche smiles. “I know.”
“I think something’s wrong with Kunikuzushi,” Gorou says as he hands Childe his coffee. Gorou got a part-time job recently at a café so Childe has been frequenting – both to help with the clientele (some people have to pay Childe to check in at their cafés, ok?) and also to use the family and friends discount that Gorou has.
“Wrong how?” Childe asks. Scaramouche does a lot of things that Gorou does not understand so he has learned to take Gorou’s worries with a pinch of salt over times. Like that one-time Gorou was worried that Scaramouche has been kidnapped or assaulted because of the incoherent messages Scaramouche has left on his phone at 3 in the morning, but it took Childe only one listen to understand that Scaramouche was just high and asking Gorou to buy more lime juice the next time he goes shopping so he can make Mai Tai.
“He has been sleeping at our place for like a week now.” Gorou says.
“He did say he’d be laying low for a while.” Childe shrugs. He has been busy with the dance studio’s upcoming project so he’s been mainly talking to Scaramouche via chat or video calls.
“No, he did go out to party but he comes back by like 1 AM every night and I can’t believe I am saying this but that is way too early for him to be coming home.”
“True,” Childe nods. “I am dropping by at your place later to have dinner with him anyway. I’ll try to see if anything’s wrong.”
“Yo.”
Scaramouche barely looks up from the bottles and glasses in front of him when Childe walks into his tiny apartment.
“You are here? Good.” Scaramouche just says and points at the fridge. “Help me take out the olive jar from the fridge. I am making martinis.”
“You don’t even eat olives.” Childe says but heads to the fridge after taking off his coat.
“It’s not a martini if there isn’t an olive that I can pluck out and throw away.” Scaramouche says and shakes the cocktail mixer violently. Childe just takes the half empty olive jar and pokes small toothpicks on the table into a couple of olives.
“Thank you,” Scaramouche sings and drops an olive stick each into the two glasses.
“That’s your lunch?” Childe points at the glasses and asks.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Scaramouche says and hands him one of the glasses. “I do know how to eat healthy. I had half a ramen earlier.”
Childe shakes his head and laughs, tasting the martini.
“You’d make a decent bartender, you know?”
Scaramouche scowls at him. “Stop insulting me and tell me where you are taking me for dinner later.”
“I don’t know.” Childe shrugs. “Whatever you feel like eating, I guess.”
“Dango,” Scaramouche says and Childe would be lying if he says he is not expecting this.
“I have an invite for a new club opening night later. While their drinks are good, I heard their desserts are even better. Wanna tag along?” Childe asks.
Scaramouche gives him a look. “Do you think I’d refuse?”
“I don’t know,” Childe shrugs. “According to Gorou, you were practically chastise for the past week.”
Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “A guy comes back home on time for a couple of days and Gorou thinks he’s Virgin Mary.”
“You alright though?” Childe leans across the counter and asks. “You don’t have like some STD or anything right?”
Scaramouche punches him in the shoulder before feeding Childe his olives. “I haven’t dropped my condoms and regular test policy, so no. I don’t have any STD.”
“Good to know,” Childe says with a mouthful of olives. “That club is owned by the son of a famous franchise so a lot of rich kids are probably coming. Wear something slutty.”
“Do I own anything else?” Scaramouche smirks.
“These kids keep getting younger and younger,” Scaramouche whispers into Childe’s ear among the thumping bass of the shitty EDM music the club is playing.
“Or you are just old.” Childe wraps his arms around Scaramouche to pull him closer and says. Scaramouche elbows him but grinds his hips right into Childe’s on the beat of the music.
“You see anyone you like?” Childe asks. Scaramouche smells like charcoal (probably from the barbeque restaurant they came from) and the cologne Childe bought him last time.
Scaramouche just gives a non-committal noise as answer and Childe hooks his chin over Scaramouche’s shoulder and sways to the music. They do this a lot, dancing at clubs while they both scout out someone to go home with, mostly to show off because both of them are pretty and suggestive especially when they are dancing. Childe kind of wishes Scaramouche doesn’t find anyone he deems good enough tonight though. He hasn’t danced with Scaramouche in a while and he misses this. Having Scaramouche in his arms, warm skin and familiar scent all for Childe. It might be a useless wish though because this club is crawling with rich ducklings and Childe had already counted about 5 or 6 of them who had been giving Scaramouche the bedroom eyes. He had to eliminate at least half of them though because they’d land Scaramouche in jail for statutory rape.
“I am good now,” Scaramouche says and turns in Childe’s arm so he is facing Childe, and loops his arms around Childe’s neck.
“Good,” Childe repeats Scaramouche’s words and settles his hands in Scaramouche’s pants pockets, which are extremely tight. Well, Childe did tell him to wear something slutty.
They dance for a while until Scaramouche gets thirsty and drags Childe to the bar for a couple of ridiculously named cocktails, which are at least free because it is opening night. Then, he drags Childe back onto the dance floor because he has absurd amount of stamina for someone who has never exercised in his life. But Childe is not one to lose so he just follows Scaramouche’s lead.
“You are pretty,” Childe says halfway through an even more annoying remix of a Chainsmokers song and Scaramouche laughs, teeth blindingly white under the blue light.
“I know, right?”
Childe laughs too. And leans down to kiss Scaramouche. Scaramouche kisses him back and that is normal for them, until Scaramouche’s kisses become rougher and there are hands in his hair and Scaramouche is grinding against him in ways that are probably illegal in some countries.
“The veto…” Childe pants among the kisses before he completely loses his mind over the feeling of Scaramouche’s ass under his hands.
“Fuck the veto.” Scaramouche says and Childe has never agreed on anything more.
Gorou is home and Scaramouche insists that he doesn’t want to traumatize the kid (they are still not Gorou’s parents, dammit), so Childe takes them back to his apartment, and it still is as good, if not better than he remembers. Having Scaramouche under him and above him, making little noises and intakes of breath like Childe is the only one that matters, and Childe doesn’t know what Scaramouche was talking about before. Having sex mixed with emotions is awesome.
Childe hasn’t had sex this satisfying in forever and he falls asleep easily, holding one hand over the back of Scaramouche’s head.
When he wakes up, Scaramouche is not in bed next to him but he can hear the distant noise outside his room so he just waits until Scaramouche comes back in, butt naked and a bowl full of ice cream in his hand.
“Breakfast?” Scaramouche lifts the bowl and asks, mouth already full of ice cream.
“I thought you’d have left with my most expensive shit again.” Childe grins and lets Scaramouche feed him a spoonful of ice cream.
“I’d have asked if I wanted anything from you.” Scaramouche says seriously. “Before, I would just steal it but now I’d tell you Hey Tartaglia, I am taking your Raf Simons hoodie, because I care about you.”
“Very touching.” Childe puts a hand over his naked chest and says.
“Your heart is on the other side, idiot.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes and Childe grins before shifting his hand so it is resting on the left side instead.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Childe asks after he watches Scaramouche eats his breakfast in silence for a while.
“What is?”
“Us.”
“I never said I thought it’d be bad.” Scaramouche says.
“Date me,” Childe says seriously. “Fuck the stupid veto. I want to date you.”
Scaramouche stares at him for a second before sighing and leaning over to put the empty ice cream bowl onto the night stand. “I don’t know, dude.”
“What is so difficult about dating me?” Childe asks.
“Because it is you.” Scaramouche says and lies down back on the bed. Childe throws a leg over him and looks down at Scaramouche’s shining eyes. “Dating comes with expectations and rules and I don’t think I am made for those.”
“It is us.” Childe says, reaching his arm out so he can intertwine Scaramouche’s fingers in his. “We’ll make our own rules, like always. If you want, we can have an open relationship. You know I don’t get jealous over who you sleep with as long as you don’t have actual feelings for them.”
Scaramouche sighs. “You know why I have been such a homebody lately?”
“Because you found the way of God?”
Scaramouche snorts. “Because I keep thinking about you during sex with other people. I even said your name once while I was fucking a guy. Don’t laugh, asshole. I mean, I normally don’t remember or even know the name of the people I am sleeping with, but it is kind of fucked up to call out your name of all things.”
“You are ridiculously in love with me, aren’t you?” Childe beams and leans down to bite at Scaramouche’s lower lip. Scaramouche shoves at his chest.
“Maybe it is temporary.” Scaramouche says after pushing Childe off of him. “I still like going out and partying and telling bar lies so the bartender believes I am actually the distant cousin of some celebrity and gives me free drink.”
“And you can still do all those.” Childe says. “While dating me.”
“And I flirt with a lot of people.”
“I know,” Childe squeezes Scaramouche’s hand tighter. “Have you forgotten that I am also your best friend? I already know all that shit and I still want to date you as you are. As long as you come back home to me.”
Scaramouche gives him a small smile, the one that Childe knows he doesn’t let out often to anyone other than Childe.
“And as long as you don’t get arrested for anything other than like petty theft.”
Scaramouche rolls his eyes but leans up to kiss Childe and Childe easily kisses him back, freeing one hand so he can play with Scaramouche’s ass for possible round three.
“Hang on,” Scaramouche says and gets up and Childe whines.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to drip ice cream over your dick and lick it.” Scaramouche says, leaning over to get the ice cream bowl. “Can I?”
Childe just shakes his head and laughs. “Go nuts.”
So, it goes like this. Childe is still teaching at the dance studio and Scaramouche flirts his way into getting Childe a judge spot at that dance survival show. Childe is still posing photos of his naked abs and Scaramouche is still posing blatant ass shots on Instagram, but they tag each other on those posts now. And Scaramouche still goes out almost every night, sometimes with Childe and sometimes by himself or his other friends and parties and drinks and dances his way through the night but he always, always, comes back to Childe when the night ends (or when the morning ends in some cases), and that’s what matters to Childe.
And sometimes, when they go out together and some strangers want to get all up on Scaramouche, Scaramouche would let them for a few minutes before bringing them over to Childe and saying “This is my boyfriend” before nestling himself at Childe’s side, like he is somehow taking pleasure from the disappointment in those potential suitors’ eyes.
Childe usually just ends up laughing and kissing his human disaster boyfriend.
He really couldn’t have gotten himself anyone better.