Work Text:
Childe quietly whistles a melody to himself as he skips down the last set of stairs. He uses the corner pillar to swirl around and takes the shortest path towards the lecture hall. His steps are light and optimistic as he breaches past the gigantic open door and looks around for a head of blue-purple hair.
He finds it only seconds later.
The man is walking through the rows of chairs, a bored expression on his face while lazily guiding the straw of a juice box into his mouth. After a few steps he sits down next to a tall woman with equally dark blue hair.
Childe strides over to them with both his hands behind his back. The girl notices him first and looks at him as he leans down, positioning his face directly next to the juice sipping man so that his nose slightly bumps against the other’s cheek.
"Fucking-" Scaramouche flinches back and pushes Childe away. "You fucking bastard."
Childe laughs heartily about his shocked expression before straightening himself up again. "Hello to you, too." Then he politely nods in the girl's direction. "And great to see you, Mona. How are you? I haven't seen you around in a couple of weeks."
She takes one of her ponytails between her fingers and twists the hair around thoughtfully. "Had a busy schedule with work, so no time for college.”
Childe tilts his head to the side, making a face as if he’s intently thinking about something. “I see. Hope Scara helped you with your catching-up?”
The mentioned person scoffs. “Scara didn’t and won’t do shit to help an ignorant, treacherous snake.” He narrows his eyes at Mona who just laughs and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Stop being salty about me ditching you in front of the music store! I got a very important work message!”
Childe looks down to the spot where her hand rests on Scaramouche’s shoulder before examining the short man’s face. He has put his juice away and stares at Mona with an irritated expression, starting to explain to her in detail what murder fantasies he experienced while having to deal with the annoying salesperson by himself.
Childe does not like how his existence is ignored. So he slams the bag that he had hidden behind his back onto the table in front of Scaramouche.
“What’s that?” Scaramouche looks at the object, but not at Childe himself. Naturally, the red-haired man leans down into the other’s field of vision.
“Open it.”
Scaramouche narrows his eyes at him, which makes Childe just grin widely and tap against the bag.
After a thoughtful second the blue-haired man reaches for it, careful to not touch Childe’s hand, and draws it closer in order to take a peek inside. When he tilts his head down Childe’s gaze falls onto his ears poking out between the shining strands of hair. Cute.
“What’s this for?” Scaramouche considers him with a suspicious look before taking a bento box out of the bag.
Childe grins happily. “Your lunch.”
“What for?”
“For you to eat.” The red-haired man walks over to stand right next to the other’s chair. There he makes a scooting-gesture with his hands before pushing Scaramouche to the side with his hips when he sits down. They now share one chair, Scaramouche angrily pushed against Mona who makes an annoyed sound and shuffles to the side.
Scaramouche presses his elbow into the other man’s ribs but doesn’t succeed in driving him off. “Why do you randomly bring me food? What do you want and what did you do?”
Childe laughs again before propping up his chin with an elbow braced on the table, his eyes fixed on Scaramouche. “Is your boyfriend not allowed to casually bring you lunch?”
The other narrows his eyes, examining the gleeful face with all its freckles. “You’ve never brought me lunch before.”
Childe inches his face closer until Scaramouche has no other option than to only look at him. “There’s always a first time.”
“Except for you not being annoying. That will literally never happen.”
He laughs in response before signing to the bento. “Open it. I included a little surprise.”
Scaramouche frowns. “I hate surprises.”
“I know!” The red-haired man snakes one arm around Scaramouche’s waist which, in return, makes him complain and try to shake him off half-heartedly.
“You’re so fucking clingy. Get away.”
Childe just leans forward and kisses his cheek. “Open the box.”
“Asshole.” Scaramouche’s ears turn slightly red (which does not go unnoticed by Childe, causing a wave of affection to rush through him) as he lifts the lid off the container and finds himself face to face with an arrangement of rice, vegetables and extremely deformed octopus sausages. On top of the rice there is a ketchup-lettering reading ‘from the best bf’ in extremely messy handwriting.
When Scaramouche turns his head towards him, this best boyfriend is already looking at his face. “You made me food praising yourself?”
Childe closes his eyes while smiling brightly. “A little reminder.” Then he switches back to his default facial expression and nudges his chin towards the food. “Why aren’t you eating?”
The other man grimaces. “I’m not hungry.”
“But I came all the way here from the other side of campus just to bring my loveliest Scara homemade lunch.” He pouts dramatically, losing his grip from the other’s waist in disappointment.
Scaramouche groans in annoyance before snatching chopsticks from the bag and digging into the rice, messing up the ‘best bf’ part of it. Childe tries to suppress the smile that will absolutely tickle an eye roll out of Scaramouche.
“Tastes disgusting. Did you even cook the rice?” Yet, he swallows it and digs in again.
“With all the love stored inside of me.”
Scaramouche puts the chopsticks away and closes the box. “Enough seeing Childe for the day. Leave.”
The taller man laughs but is cut off when Mona leans over to them and claims Scaramouche’s attention again. “If you don’t want it I’ll gladly eat it. I have to save some money.”
“Sure. Enjoy.” Scaramouche pushes the box over to her but Childe immediately slams his hand down, pinning it to the table. Every trace of a smile has disappeared and only left a cold expression in his eyes.
There is a long diabolic moment of awkward silence, the tension in the air clearly tangible. Childe’s insides feel cool and murderous.
“You will not eat it.” He looks into Mona’s face, daring her to fight for the bento box.
But she only raises her shoulders and leans back, interrupting the tense moment. “How unfortunate. I’ll have to ask Fischl for some snacks later.”
When Childe’s freezing stare glides to Scaramouche he finds the other man already grinning at him smugly. That malicious gremlin. He did this on purpose.
Childe huffs an angry sound and removes himself from Scaramouche before standing up and snatching the empty bag from the table.
Before he can leave though, Scaramouche grabs his arm and holds him back.
When Childe looks at him his chest flutters comfortably. No matter how repulsed Scaramouche always acts, his eyes sometimes show some kind of fondness when he looks at Childe and the expression never fails to make the red-haired man’s entire world collapse.
Now is one of these rare occasions. And as always Childe can do nothing else but stare into the other’s eyes and wait for something to happen. He is completely at Scaramouche’s mercy.
Tragically, the fingers around his arms loosen, leaving his skin lonely. Scaramouche seems to want to say something but pauses and pulls the bento box against his chest. “Next time try to not completely fuck up the sausages.” His voice sounds irritated on untrained ears but for Childe, who knows what Scaramouche sounds like when he says something incredibly sweet, this implies a love confession.
A wide smile appears on his lips. “I will give my best.”
______________
“A freshman asked me for directions earlier!” Yoimiya slams her hand on the wooden table, her eyes as big as two saucers. “I seemed approachable enough for them to talk to me!”
Childe laughs. “You do look very kind and approachable.”
Yoimiya giggles before sticking the lollipop back into her mouth. “They looked so cute and untainted.” She sighs. “These precious clueless people. I hate seeing them slowly lose their mind over academics.”
Childe nods in agreement. “Every morning I see this group of freshmen in front of the athletic field. They were so happy and loud and energetic. Until last week when one of them was complaining about an assignment while the other four looked like the walking dead.”
A pitiful sound escapes Yoimiya’s lips but before she can reply anything more her eyes get caught on something behind Childe.
He turns around to see what must be so important and is confronted by a short-ish figure staring at them from the other end of the yard. Seeing this person instantly makes Childe’s chest lighter while he forgets all about the previous conversation topic. With a grin on his lips he waves.
Scaramouche doesn’t move at first, just stares at him with a twisted expression. But eventually, when Yoimiya also waves him over, he sets one foot in front of the other and draws closer. Childe immediately scoots to the side and makes space on the bench right next to him.
However, Scaramouche stays standing next to the table. “Hey.”
Yoimiya grins at him. “Hey, Scara! Come sit with us! We were just talking about how depressing college is.” She signs towards the free spot next to Childe.
But the addressed person only wrinkles his nose. “Call me Scaramouche.”
The energetic woman laughs at the rejection and waves it away with her hand. “No problem, Scaramouche. You can still sit down with us.”
“I don’t want to.” Then he turns his eyes towards Childe who has already been looking at him the whole time, admiring the micro expressions playing around on Scaramouche’s face. “I am certain we had planned to eat together today.”
For a brief heartbeat the blood inside of Childe’s veins freezes. He had sent the other a message yesterday evening, asking for a lunch date. Shit, he really forgot.
But then Childe realizes the situation they’re in right now. Scaramouche went all the way over here from his lecture hall in search of his best boyfriend. Lunch break had started 15 minutes ago so he must have been wandering around for quite a while, not knowing where the other might be. Childe sees an opportunity. Why not see how far he can go?
“But I’m spending some bonding time with Yoi right now.” He knows Scaramouche hates it when he uses nicknames for his friends. “We haven’t talked at all today, you know?”
The blue-haired man blinks at him unbelievingly. “We haven’t talked today either.”
“I know. But we texted yesterday. And Yoi was just about to tell me about her new crush.” He looks over to the woman in question who passionately types something on her phone.
She raises her eyes when realizing she is being stared at but there is a questioning look in her eyes. She hasn’t listened.
“You pathetically whined to me about being sooo lonely just last evening and even wanted to facetime to fall asleep together”, Scaramouche deadpans.
“Yes, and you declined my video call.” He pouts.
“Because I’m not gonna call someone just to see a black screen while they sleep.”
“You are the enemy of romance!”
“That’s not romance, that’s stupidity.”
Childe sulks and looks away. “Whatever. I don’t want to eat lunch with you anymore.”
Scaramouche sighs and rolls his eyes. “I crossed the whole campus just for you. The least you could do is keep your fucking promises.”
“I don’t care. I rather want to spend my free time with Yoi today.” Provokingly, Childe pulls his sports bag onto the bench where Scaramouche has been meant to sit.
The shorter man’s eye twitches. “You’re an asshole.”
Childe just shrugs and fully turns his body away. “Nothing I haven’t heard from you before.”
There is silence after that - Yoimiya engaged in her phone, Childe staring at the horizon behind her and Scaramouche glaring at Childe. Normally, the red-haired man can correctly guess his boyfriend’s next moves but right now he has no idea what this can lead to. Though the most likely outcome is that Scaramouche gets angry at him and gives him the silent treatment for a week until Childe whines and suffers enough to apologize to him.
To Childe’s biggest surprise, Scaramouche does not walk away but instead kicks him in the shin and pushes the bag off the bench in order to make space for his butt. “I fucking hate you.”
Childe blinks at him in astonishment until the other throws a death-glare into his face. The hatred behind it causes the redhead to whisper a quiet “endearing”. Scaramouche has definitely heard it but doesn’t react and just crosses his arms on the table.
Yoimiya hums a song to herself while rummaging through her bag for a portable charger. “Where were we?” After she has found it her attention fully goes back to the conversation at hand. “Ah, yes! Your freshmen in front of the athletic field. Have you ever thought about whether academic depression differs in intensity between majors? Are sports students less depressed than literature ones?”
As the topic continues on, Childe lays a hand on Scaramouche’s thigh under the table.
He is not shy about touching, not afraid of rejection because last week he realized Scaramouche has never seriously pushed him away when he clinged to him like a wet shirt - not even a single time. Scaramouche barely ever initiates physical contact but he also never rejects it. In fact, whenever the blue-haired man feels unseen by other eyes he even leans into the touches.
Just as he does now when he gingerly presses his leg against Childe’s.
______________
There is barely anything that Childe loves more than his body crying for air and his muscles screaming for a break after an excessive hour of training. He does all kinds of sports and today it's the tennis training that makes him feel even more alive than usual.
"That was great. Care about a match?" Eula snatches herself a bottle of water. "Amber, are you on?"
"Oh, for sure!" Childe loves himself a good competition. Thus, he gestures towards his own teammate for a double. Yoimiya jumps from left to right, heating herself up. "I've been born ready. I'll stump you both into the ground."
Childe laughs maliciously and twirls the tennis racket around his hand. "That's what I'm talking about. Let's show them how our dust tastes."
They are halfway through the first set when Childe feels a strange prickly sensation at the back of his neck. He's being watched.
With an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach he wipes the sweat off his forehead and abruptly turns around to catch the stalker right in their act.
To his surprise there's no stalker.
There's only Scaramouche, slowly walking along the fence that surrounds the tennis fields. His last class must've just finished and now he's on his way home.
Immediately, all uncomfortable feelings in Childe's chest disperse and are instead replaced by a familiar deep affection.
Then something else arises inside of him. Mischief.
He returns Scaramouche's look before reaching for the hem of his own shirt and lifting it up in order to wipe the sweat off his face. The cold air that hits his bare stomach assures him that Scaramouche definitely just had a clear view onto his abs.
Childe doesn't work on them for nothing. They need to be shown off at any opportunity he gets.
With a grin he then lets go of the shirt and directs his eyes back to the man outside the fence.
Scaramouche has narrowed his eyes and stopped in his tracks, just staring at the red-haired man with a frosty expression.
Childe grabs his water bottle and jogs over to him.
"Hey! We're not done yet!" Yoimiya calls after him but he just holds up one hand apologetically.
"I'll be right back. Give me five minutes. Take a break."
When he arrives at the fence directly in front of Scaramouche the shorter man scoffs. "Your ego has gotten too big again, time to trim it."
Childe hooks his fingers into the fence and steps as close as he can. "Trim it? Will you do that for me?"
Scaramouche raises one eyebrow. "What's that even supposed to mean?"
The other laughs heartily. "Nothing, nothing." Then he looks around for other people. "You're here alone? Did you particularly come here to see me?" A hopeful expression in his eyes.
"No. The tennis fields are on my way home."
Childe pouts. Then a thought crosses his mind and his face lightens again. "Usually you take a different route though."
"No. I always walk by here."
He doesn't. Childe has walked him to the end of campus countless times. He knows for a fact that the other normally walks by the library, not the sport fields.
Thus, Childe smiles even wider. "I'm happy you came to see me. Will you stay? Watch me win."
"I can't."
"Why?" He tilts his head to the side, eyes not leaving Scaramouche for even a second.
"Group project with Mona. She must be waiting already."
Childe's heart drops, just like his smile. "Oh." He lets go of the fence and averts his eyes while thinking about what to say. He's not jealous of Mona per se, but he dislikes the amount of time she can spend with Scaramouche when Childe himself barely has any spare seconds with him. That is obviously not Mona's fault which is why Childe doesn't dislike her or anything. He's just disappointed that he can't spend more time with his boyfriend.
After Childe has cleared his throat he puts the smile back onto his face. "Then good luck and success with your work!"
The other examines his smile thoroughly before nodding and starting to walk away. "Thanks. Have fun with the rest of your training."
Childe swallows the cold lump in his throat and quickly turns around to prevent torturing himself by watching the man walk away.
"Childe?"
At the sound of Scaramouche's voice he twirls back around, unable to suppress the giddy feeling rising in his chest. The intensity of the effect that Scaramouche has on him is slightly concerning. His mind immediately starts brimming, the blood in his veins flows faster, his stomach curls.
"Come closer." Scaramouche steps directly in front of the fence, nose nearly pressed against it.
Childe couldn't even disobey the man's orders if his life depended on it. Immediately, he does as he is told and walks back up to the fence.
"Closer."
His heart beats faster when he leans forward, face directly in front of Scaramouche's. Does he want to kiss him? Through the fence? They'll definitely touch the cold and dirty metal. Is that dangerous? They might get herpes.
Scaramouche hooks the fingers of one hand into the fence gaps as if he wants to touch Childe's skin. Meanwhile, the latter's breath gets caught in his throat. He might pass out right here and now.
"If you don't win this match I'll not come over on Saturday."
"We had something planned on Saturday?" For a moment Childe feels horrible for having forgotten about a date again.
But Scaramouche only grins slightly, obviously trying to suppress it. "We will have if you win your match."
Childe smiles brightly. "What are we going to do?"
"You haven't won your game yet."
"Are we going to go out or stay in?"
"Play your game first."
"How about staying in? I want to focus on you. We could cook something. Well, I cook. You- you won't touch any ingredients. I learned my lesson from trying to eat your food last time. Can't miss another three days of classes."
"Childe."
"Are you going to stay overnight? Please stay overnight. We haven't slept in the same bed in like a month. I am Scara-deprived."
"Childe!" The commanding tone finally shuts him up.
Scaramouche shakes his head in annoyance. "Stop getting excited when you haven't even won your game yet. If you lose you have gotten your hopes up for no reason and your disappointment will be even worse."
Childe touches the other's fingers, which are still hooked into the fence gaps, before getting a better idea, leaning down and kissing them quickly.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Scaramouche immediately retreats his hand and makes a disgusted face that sends another wave of fondness through Childe's chest.
"I'll win the match. And you will stay over on Saturday. Promise?"
Scaramouche raises his nose. "If you win your game, yes."
Childe can't help himself and raises his fist triumphantly. He is convinced he could even win against a tennis world champion right now.
Scaramouche only chuckles and turns to walk away. "I'll call you later."
Childe is convinced that this is the best day of his life. "I'm looking forward to it!" He eagerly skips back to the training, takes Yoimiya to the side and explains to her in detail how they're going to defeat their malicious enemies.
He will win this match. Even if it kills him.
______________
The doorbell rings.
Childe throws the DVDs he has been holding onto the coffee table and jumps up before taking another last glance around the room. When he finds nothing out of place he eagerly walks to the door and opens it energetically.
It reveals Scaramouche's frame wrapped in a cozy coat with a hat and scarf covering most of his face, hands buried in his pockets. Nevertheless, Childe catches a glimpse of his reddened cheeks and hardly withstands the urge to cup them.
Cute.
"Why are you grinning like that? Let me in or I'll freeze to death." Scaramouche hunches his shoulders and stares at him angrily.
"Ah, sorry, sorry! Come in." Childe hurries away and closes the door after the other has entered. Seeing Scaramouche in his apartment sends a comfortable warmth through his chest.
They usually spend their time on campus, in cafés or at Scaramouche's place because Childe shows up unannounced. He's sure Scaramouche's flatmates must hate him by now, even if he's not over that often. Like once every two weeks. That's not often at all. But then again, maybe they don't dislike him because of the duration of his stay but rather because he disturbs their calm and artistic environment. Both Albedo and Kazuha study something art-related and prefer to live in peace and quiet.
Scaramouche takes off his jacket, scarf and hat and neatly puts them where they belong right next to the entrance.
"Would you care for something warm to drink? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?" Childe leads the way into the kitchen.
"Hot chocolate sounds nice." The other follows him and leans against the counter, watching him prepare their two mugs.
Childe is overly aware of his eyes on his hands and pays the closest attention to working efficiently and without any spills. "How do you feel about fried dumplings for dinner?"
"Sure."
When the hot chocolates are ready Childe brings one mug to his lips for a taste test. Only after approving of its deliciousness, does he sign the other man to sit down at the counter and place the other cup in front of him.
Scaramouche takes a sip and contorts his face. Childe's heart drops. But then, "Fuck, that's hot. How did you drink it so casually!?"
He laughs in relief and wiggles his eyebrows. "I'm used to touching hot things."
The other throws him a disgusted look before softly blowing into his cup. Childe watches him. He can't stop himself from wanting to see every little mannerism that makes Scaramouche Scaramouche.
They prepare dinner together. Well, Childe does most of the work, not trusting the other around food anymore. But he orders Scaramouche around, makes him hand utensils, refill their glasses and skip songs from the playlist they're listening to.
Finally, after a little over an hour, Childe sets two plates down on the table. "Et Voilà! Thy food is served, my beloved!" He twirls around and pulls a chair back for Scaramouche to sit on.
The other blinks at him with an unimpressed expression on his face. Childe expects him to remark something snarky but surprisingly, he stays silent and just sits on the offered chair.
Childe frowns when he sits down. This is very unusual behavior. "Are you alright?"
Scaramouche picks up his (quite literally, Childe had bought them just for him and never uses them himself) chopsticks, eyes trained on the food. "Yes. Should I not be?"
"No, you absolutely should! But you've been acting so…" He gestures around in search for a fitting word. "You've been so nice the whole time."
At that, Scaramouche finally looks him in the eyes. "Don't ever insult me like that again."
Childe chuckles. "Let's eat. And you better give me a compliment for my cooking skills. I know for a fact that my dumplings are the best in the world. They can heal wounds and revive the dead."
Scaramouche raises an eyebrow, takes a dumpling, dips it into the sauce and lets it disappear in his mouth. After chewing a few times he starts coughing and hitting his chest as if he struggles to get air into his lungs.
Immediately, Childe's blood freezes. He puts his cutlery down to dash over and hit the other on the back, trying to help. Yet, after only one pat, Scaramouche abruptly stops coughing and lazily raises his head again, no trace of struggle to breathe but instead an evil smile on his lips. It was all just an act.
"It's so awful it nearly killed me."
Childe hits him in the back of his head. "You fucking asshole. I thought you'd choke and die right here in my kitchen on a Saturday night."
The other laughs. "No way would I die in your snobby apartment. My corpse will probably turn into gold immediately and you'd just be even richer and more annoying. Can't have my death profit you."
Childe snorts and goes back to his own seat. "You wouldn't turn into gold. You're too rotten for that."
His opposite grins. "Good." And eats another dumpling.
When they wash the dishes later - Childe at the sink, Scaramouche next to him with a towel - the blue-haired man surprisingly brings up the topic again.
"The food was really good."
Childe has to pause. Maybe he misheard.
The typical silence that always arises when Scaramouche says something sweet proves him otherwise.
An honest smile spreads across his mouth as he looks over to the other's lowered head. "I'm so glad you liked it! I can cook it more often. Will you come over more frequently if I do?"
The corners of Scaramouche's lips rise but he turns his face, unsuccessfully trying to prevent Childe from seeing it.
"We'll see."
A laugh bubbles up in Childe's chest. So he grabs Scaramouche's face and pulls him closer to sloppily and quickly press his lips onto the other's. Dishwater is dripping from his hands onto Scaramouche's shoulders.
The receiver of the kiss shrieks and violently shoves him away. "What the fuck are you doing!? Get that disgusting water away from me!"
Childe just laughs brightly and splashes him with more.
"Oh, you-" Scaramouche looks around, finds the towel he has used and throws it in the other's face. While Childe reaches for the cloth, Scaramouche jumps forward and takes a glass from the drip grid. Without hesitation he dunks it into the sink before throwing its content right into Childe's face.
Water flies everywhere. The door behind him gets wet, the microwave on the counter gets wet, Childe's phone right next to it gets wet, too.
And Childe opens his mouth in shock. "You did not just do that."
Scaramouche grins maliciously. "Oh, but I did."
"I'll murder you."
He laughs. "Come and try." Before quickly filling the glass with dirty water again.
Childe raises both hands apologetically. "Hey, hey. I didn't mean it. No need to continue the war."
"Oh, yeah? Didn't mean it? Then what's your hand doing there reaching for the water bottle?"
While Scaramouche lunges towards said bottle to prevent Childe from using it, the latter rips the glass out of Scaramouche's hand, leaving him unarmed. Then he dumps the content of the glass over the smaller man's head and laughs about his expression so violently he has to clutch his stomach and nearly topples over.
"You demon! You disgusting, arrogant, backstabbing demon!", Scaramouche curses and reaches for him but Childe hurries away laughing, barely escaping his murderous grip.
"Now we're even! I call truce!"
Scaramouche angrily runs after him. "There will be no truce until I haven't killed you!"
______________
"Please just put it on", Childe whines and moves the shirt around in front of Scaramouche's face.
"Stop forcing your stinky clothes on me. I have my own stuff." Scaramouche stubbornly crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"But your old ones are all wet and you need the other set of clothes you brought for tomorrow. Thus, wearing my clothes is the only option you have. Except…" Childe raises an eyebrow and acts shocked. "Do you plan on sleeping naked!?" He theatrically raises one hand to his forehead. "Is this all a mere scheme to seduce my humblest persona? Thou wouldn't have had to go this far, beloved, I ought to fulfill thee every wish without judging thy divinity."
Scaramouche does not look impressed. "I brought clothes for the night. I'll just wear them now."
Childe shuts his mouth. He has been defeated.
Thus, he sighs, overacted and sad, and drags himself out of the room in order to prepare some snacks for their movie night. The other man just chuckles as he watches him leave.
Five minutes later Scaramouche comes out of the bedroom and sits on the couch next to Childe who has finished preparing just moments ago.
"I vote for watching a psychological thriller. My brain needs to be-" Childe stops when his eyes catch Scaramouche's clothes. Then a grin spreads across his face. "Oh, what a beautiful shirt! Where might that one be from?"
Scaramouche shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Found it lying on the floor."
"Do you pick up clothing items from the floor often?" Childe turns his body towards the other and supports his face with one arm across the back of the sofa.
"Only if they're from one of my hundred boyfriends."
The line does not trigger what it was intended to. Scaramouche must have wanted to tease Childe by mentioning 99 other boyfriends but everything the taller man hears is that he just called him his boyfriend.
This obviously has happened before, but only like two or three times in the whole year they've been together. Therefore, a vibrant feeling explodes in Childe's chest and makes him turn his face into his own arm to hide the overwhelmed expression on it. Scaramouche groans over the reaction but can't stop a genuine laughter from escaping his throat. The sound makes the flower in Childe's chest bloom even more colorfully, his skin prickling, his face hurting from smiling so widely.
To cope with the feeling, Childe leans over and presses his face into the other's shoulder. "You'll absolutely be the death of me."
Scaramouche audibly grins as he speaks. "Good. Then all your money and possessions will go over to me and I'll be the richest man on this planet."
"Doesn't that only work with spouses?" He lifts his head up and stares at Scaramouche's profile. "Are you proposing to me right now?"
"Dream on. It also works with a will. A will that I am going to make you write today before the clock strikes midnight."
Childe laughs, reaches for Scaramouche's hand and intertwines their fingers while leaning his torso back into its original position. "I think I'd rather marry than get up in the next three hours."
Scaramouche looks down to their hands and brushes his thumb over Childe's skin a total of one time - thereby, casually making the latter's heart stop, killing him and granting him an ascension to heaven. The small gesture mercilessly explodes Childe's chest.
"In that case I will definitely bully you into writing that will."
Childe needs ten business days to recover from this.
In the meantime Scaramouche decides on a movie (a psychological thriller!) and covers himself with a blanket.
Naturally, Childe whines about it and weasels his legs under the covers. "I need some warmth, too!"
"Go away. This blanket isn't big enough for us both." Scaramouche rams his elbow into the other's side.
Childe huffs in pain but presses himself closer. "Then we just have to cuddle. How unpleasant." With a triumphant grin he scooches as close as he can.
The other man grimaces in spurious disgust but moves the blanket around until it covers both of their legs equally.
Childe on the other hand shamelessly takes advantage of the situation, wraps both arms around his boyfriend's waist and shuffles around until he can comfortably lay his cheek on the warm shoulder. With a content sigh he locks all his extremities in place and braces himself against incoming tries to shove him away.
But none happen.
Instead, Scaramouche simply makes an obligatory sound of annoyance before using the remote to start the movie.
Childe hides his smile in the shoulder he's resting on and brings their intertwined fingers up to his mouth, so that he can place a tender kiss on the back of Scaramouche's hand.
______________
Two movies and an extensive argument about the value of romantic relationships in thriller and horror films later, they retreat into the bedroom.
"I hope these are clean sheets." Scaramouche lifts the blanket up with only his index finger and thumb touching it.
Childe kicks him in the back of the knee. "What do you think I'm doing with my bed for it not to be clean?"
The other kicks him back before quickly stepping out of reach. "Who knows. You might just fall into bed after school. With all your outside clothes on, unshowered and full of germs."
"You should smell me more often. I shower a lot and smell great all the time."
Scaramouche grimaces in disgust before pulling the blanket back fully. However, he pauses before he can shift under it.
"Which side should I sleep on?" His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, wrapping itself around Childe's poor heart and effortlessly making it surrender.
"You can sleep wherever you like." He tries to reduce the fondness in his voice as he turns off the overhead light but doubts that he succeeds.
Scaramouche hums in understanding before sitting down and pulling the blanket over his legs. Childe lies down on the other side, waiting to find out how the other plans to sleep so he can come up with a way to cuddle.
"You're scheming something again." Scaramouche narrows his eyes at him.
Childe flutters his eyelashes. "What should I be scheming? I just want to sleep."
"Then turn around and sleep."
The red-haired man pouts and slowly does as he is told. He'll just snuggle back up to the other when they have turned off the lights.
Right after this thought the light on Scaramouche's side of the bed goes out and the room falls into darkness. There's a shuffling sound as the blue-haired man lies down as well, pulling the blanket up to his chin and thereby away from Childe.
He doesn't say anything though. He'll cuddle up to the other in a moment anyway.
"Goodnight, Scara", he whispers.
"Hmm", returns.
Childe blinks into the dark. Should he turn around now? Wait longer? Would it be non-consensual cuddling if he waits too long and Scaramouche falls asleep in the meantime? Oh no, he doesn't want to do anything without his consent. He should turn around now.
There's more shuffling behind him. Then Childe feels the mattress dip directly behind his back as Scaramouche scooches closer and rests his forehead against Childe's upper back. The latter can feel the breath against his skin which obviously makes his pulse go crazy.
Oh heavens, he will actually pass away tonight.
However, the fact that he doesn't actively touch Scaramouche bothers him. So he reaches behind himself, finds the smaller man's arm and brushes along it until he reaches the hand. Said hand he takes and places it around his own waist before resting his own arm on top of it.
"Better", he mumbles content.
"Whenever I give you a crumb you always ask for the whole cake."
Childe grins and locks his fingers between Scaramouche's. "Strangely though, you always give me the whole cake when I ask for it."
There's silence after that and Childe sees this as him having won the battle. He closes his eyes with a soft smile on his face.
Multiple minutes pass.
Then, "Scara."
The addressed person makes a throaty sound.
"Scara."
"What do you want?", he bites back annoyed, probably having been close to falling asleep. Childe feels slightly guilty.
"Just wanted to say your name."
Scaramouche removes his forehead from Childe's back. "Fuck you. I was nearly asleep. You revoked your touching rights." While he tries to pull his arm away as well, Childe holds onto his limb like it's a chunk of meat and he's starving.
"Noooo, please stay. I'll behave."
Scaramouche scoffs and retorts sarcastically, "Yeah, because saying that has ever proven itself to be true."
"It will be true this time! Stay like this, please."
When Scaramouche can't get his arm out of Childe's grip he makes another annoyed sound but stops struggling. Instead, he shifts closer than before and buries his complete face in the other man's back.
Childe might start to cry out of happiness.
Another few minutes pass.
Then, "Scaramouche…"
"What is it this time? I'll strangle you in your sleep if you don't shut the fuck up right now." This time he succeeds in jerking his arm away and additionally turns his back towards Childe.
The latter makes a whiny sound and faces around. "Come back! I just love saying your name. It's so pleasant!"
"You have all fucking day to say it. Now is the one time where you actually shut your mouth for once."
Childe sits up and looks at the other's back. He wishes he'd have some self control. But he doesn't. Thus, he leans over and rests his chin on said shoulder, staring down into Scaramouche's pretty face.
"I want to say your name all day and night."
The other cringes and wrinkles his nose. "You're so disgusting. How can you just say embarrassing stuff like that?"
"Because I always speak my honest truth with you." Scaramouche pushes Childe's face away with his hand which makes the red-haired man laugh. "I am being sincere! It's very easy to be honest around you."
"If being honest means you say such cringy things, maybe it shouldn't be this easy. I seem to not bully you enough."
Childe reaches across the other's body, finds support for his hand right next to his neck and lifts himself up, so that he hovers right above Scaramouche. The latter's eyes widen in surprise for a second before he turns onto his back and stares up at him.
His gaze causes Childe's skin to tingle. "Scara."
An eye roll. "Fuck you."
However, before Scaramouche can turn back and ignore him for the rest of the night, Childe leans down and gives him a fleeing kiss right in the middle of his lips.
"I really like your name."
Scaramouche grits his teeth and theatrically wipes his mouth to get rid of any Childe leftovers. "Do you like it enough to never say it again?"
"I'm afraid, no. I don't like it as much as I like you." He leans closer until his face is only mere fingertips away from the other's.
By turning his face to the side, Scaramouche gives him the perfect opportunity to press his lips against the offered cheek. So that's what he does - multiple times. He doesn't rush it but rather plants very calculated kisses all over the place. Scaramouche doesn't move or press him away. Instead, he makes a small relaxed sound that goes right through Childe's chest and nearly makes him lose his balance.
Only when he's satisfied with the amount of love he could portray, does Childe flop onto his stomach right next to Scaramouche. His arm is draped over the other's middle, his face comfortably nestled against his shoulder.
"All ready to sleep."
Scaramouche moves his head closer to the other's (inevitably causing Childe to have a near-death experience) and lays one hand on Childe's arm across his stomach.
"Took you long enough. Goodnight."
"Goodnight. I'll make breakfast tomorrow and bring it into bed. So stay put." Childe's voice is muffled by the shirt covering Scaramouche's skin. Should he pull it down?
"Okay, sure."
Childe waits a few seconds before removing the fabric from the shoulder and then nestling his face against the now bare skin once more, a content smile on his lips.
Scaramouche doesn't comment on it.
A long while passes in silence.
Then, "Scara."
Scaramouche punches him in the side so hard Childe huffs in pain and bites down into the skin in front of him. However, this only earns him an even more painful shoulder in the face when Scaramouche instinctively jerks away.
"I'll seriously smother you in your sleep", Scaramouche threatens.
"With kisses?"
Childe laughs as the other tries to brutally push him as far away as he can, yet doesn't succeed because the red-haired man clings to him like a limpet.
Needless to say, they need a while to actually fall asleep.
______________
On Wednesdays Childe waits in front of the building Scaramouche's first morning lecture is in. It's the only day their classes start at the same time. Thus, every week Childe runs across the whole campus just to greet his boyfriend good morning and then races against the time back to his own class. More than often this results in him being too late but that's a sacrifice he's definitely willing to make. Especially on good days when Scaramouche kisses him good morning. On those days he always comes even later than usual - having whined about not wanting to leave the other.
However, this Wednesday he oversleeps and shows up on campus 15 minutes later than usual. He won't make it to Scaramouche's lecture building before classes start. His day is ruined. His life is miserable. There's no reason to smile today.
That is, until he arrives at the entrance to the building he himself has classes in and finds a familiar frame waiting right next to it.
"Scara?", he asks dumbfounded as he walks up to the person.
Scaramouche pushes himself away from the wall and comes up to meet him halfway. "Good morning."
"What are you doing here?" Childe still blinks in disbelief, not trusting his own eyes. This might be a hallucination out of stress, guilt and lack of sleep.
"I was just taking a stroll and randomly saw you approach", Scaramouche replies sarcastically. "No, obviously I fucking came here to see you."
Childe's lip quivers dramatically as he wants to fake a cry.
Scaramouche rolls his eyes at him. "Now I wish I had just stayed in my lecture room."
"Noooo! I'm so happy!" Childe takes both of the other's hands and pulls him into a hug. "Good morning to you, too! How did you sleep? Are you cold? Is it okay for you to be a bit late in class?"
Scaramouche's voice is muffled by Childe's jacket. "In contrast to your lazy ass I'm a model student. I'll be completely fine even if I'd skip the whole class."
"Then are you going to skip the whole thing and spend your time with me instead?" Childe's eyes light up as he considers at least ten different things they could do instead.
"Absolutely not."
"Scaraaa", he whines. "Why do you always have to crush my hopes and dreams like that?"
Scaramouche removes his face from the other's chest and stares up at him in irritation. "That's literally my favorite activity, my hobby."
Childe brightens up again. "I'm your favorite activity?"
The other groans and pushes him away. "I hate you."
In response Childe snickers and moves the bag further up his shoulder. "You love me so much you actually come all across campus just to say good morning."
"Only because you usually do it!"
"But now you did it." Childe can't stop grinning. Today is actually a wonderful day.
Scaramouche rolls his eyes but drops the topic. Instead, he tilts his head further up and buries his gloved hands in his own pockets while stepping a tiny bit closer. He definitely wants a kiss. Childe returns the look but doesn't move. He will take any opportunity he gets to tease Scaramouche for being just as lovey-dovey as Childe is (that's a lie actually. No one is as lovey-dovey as him).
"Asshole. Are you going to make me ask?"
Childe grins wider, acting clueless. "Ask what?"
Scaramouche frowns angrily but gives him a chance to redeem himself by not moving away immediately.
Childe's self control threatens to falter because the other looks so beautiful in the dim light of dawn, he wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss him. Well, nothing but one thing, namely making Scaramouche ask for a kiss instead.
He might be pushing his luck with this idea, taking into account that Scaramouche barely ever initiates touch in the first place, let alone verbally asks for it.
Nevertheless, he can't help himself but wants to try it.
When Childe still doesn't lean down Scaramouche scoffs and steps away. "Your loss."
"My loss of what?"
Scaramouche narrows his eyes at him. "Your loss of a boyfriend."
Childe immediately rushes forward and cups the other's face, pressing a quick kiss to his cold lips. "I'm sorry. Deeply sorry. I won't do it again."
Scaramouche grins smugly and tilts his head up again, expecting to receive what he originally wanted.
This time Childe complies and kisses him properly, his own lips still warm because he hasn't been outside for long while Scaramouche feels like a refrigerator.
"Give me your hand warmer pad." Scaramouche sneaks his hands into the other's pockets and rummages through them.
Childe doesn't let go of his face as he looks down at himself. "I don't have any."
"You useless piece of trash." Scaramouche doesn't remove his hands.
The insult causes a happy laugh to bubble out of Childe's throat. How much more smitten can he be? "If we both skip classes we can go to a warm café and you won't need any heating pads."
"And what do I do on our way there? I won't have hands anymore when we arrive."
Childe buries his own hands in his pockets and wraps them around Scaramouche's. "Until then I'll just hold your hands and warm them for you."
The shorter man grimaces. "You're repulsive."
He laughs and brushes his thumbs over the other's gloved skin. "So, what do you say? Skip classes with me."
Scaramouche examines his face. "Only under one condition."
"Everything my beloved requests."
The man rolls his eyes again but still doesn't retreat. "Never kiss me again."
Childe grins brightly and takes Scaramouche's hands out of his pockets, bringing one up to his face and kissing the back of it. After intertwining their fingers and dropping their hands he leans down once again to gingerly bestow an affectionate kiss upon the other's lips.
"I wouldn't dare to."
With a triumphant grin he tugs the blue-haired man forward, setting course for their most trusted café. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the tiniest, but most genuine smile on Scaramouche's lips.
Maybe Childe faints right then and there. No one will ever know.