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Lumine has the tip of her sword pressed against Childe’s throat when she notices he’s shivering. He’d been holding his own during their fight without much trouble, and she had assumed the sweat on his brow was only due to exertion, but when she lets her sword fall to the side and puts a hand on his forehead, he’s burning up.
“You’re sick,” she says.
He tries to pull away. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”
“You don’t look fine,” Paimon chirps, floating towards them from the safe distance where she had been watching their weekly match unfold. (She had whined to Lumine about forgetting to bring snacks on the way over.)
Childe’s mouth twists into something almost like a pout. “Well, I am. But—can your fairy please stop duplicating? It’s giving me a headache.”
“Sure you are,” Paimon says. “Completely fine.”
“Childe,” Lumine says, brow furrowed. “I think you need to rest.”
“No,” he says. “We were—we still need to—need to finish up here.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
Lumine’s mouth purses. “You’re shaking, go home and rest.”
Childe crosses his arms over his chest. “Not before I beat you.”
“Paimon doesn’t think you could beat a Pyro Slime in this condition.”
“I am Tartaglia, the 11th of the Fatui Harbingers, and I will not be defeated by mere—”
“Archons, fine, you win!” Lumine says. “You, mighty fearsome harbinger, have defeated me fair and square, so could you, like, take your glorious victory and go home and eat some soup?”
Childe’s eyes narrow. “Are you making fun of me?”
Lumine can’t help the quirk of her mouth. “Only a little,” she says.
Childe glares at her. Lumine thinks his next action is meant to be something resembling a dramatic exit, but he wobbles midway and ends up kneeling on the floor instead.
“Idiot,” she huffs. (And, despite Paimon’s fervent insistence that they should just leave, walks over and helps him up.)
By the time they make it to Northland Bank, Lumine has discovered that Childe is heavier than he looks. A lot heavier. She has also discovered something about herself, namely that she has a lot more patience than she thought she did.
It’s a little more worth it when she sees the surprise on Ekaterina’s face, the way she coughs and excuses herself before marching over to them. “Sir?”
“We’re just dropping him off,” Paimon says. “You can take over from here.”
“What?” she sputters. “Wait, I can’t—I can’t leave. I have a job to do.”
Paimon shrugs. “No longer our problem.”
They’re already turning to leave when Ekaterina calls out, “What if—what if I offer the appropriate amount of compensation? Would you be willing to keep an eye on him then?”
Lumine doesn’t even need to look at her to know how quickly Paimon perks up. “How much Mora are we talking about here?”
“Master Childe’s resources aren’t exactly limited.”
“You know what Lumine, I think we could stay and help out a little here—”
“No,” Lumine says, a sweaty Childe still leaning heavily on the arm he has slung around her shoulder so he can stand. “Absolutely not. I’m not babysitting him.”
“But—but think about the Mora.”
“Paimon—”
“The Mora, Lumine. The Mora.”
Lumine sighs. “You better make this worth it,” she says, throwing a glare Childe’s way. She’s not even sure he’s lucid enough to make sense of anything that’s currently happening around him, but it does make her feel better.
“You will be compensated accordingly,” Ekaterina assures. Paimon cheers. Childe leans more of his weight onto her.
Relatively. Relatively better.
…
Honestly, she never would’ve guessed that a grown man could be so fussy. Childe has opinions about the salt content of Lumine’s Cream Stew when he’s running a fever. She’s been holding the spoon up to his mouth for a good fifteen seconds.
“Come on,” she says. “I tasted it when it was done cooking, it’s not that bad.”
Childe’s face scrunches up. “It’s bland.”
“You’re sick,” Lumine says. “That’s kind of the point. You’re not supposed to strain your body.”
“I’m pretty sure a little salt won’t send me to an early grave,” he says.
“I could think of a few other things that will,” Lumine says.
“Uh, Lumine?” Paimon says. “I don’t they’re still going to pay us if you hand back his corpse.”
Lumine closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. It might be worth losing some Mora not to have to deal with this any longer. She kind of likes Childe better when he’s swinging a blade at her.
Childe laughs. “There’s a decent chance they won’t, no. But it might still be fun to try.”
“Are you seriously still thinking about a fight in this condition?” she asks.
He shrugs. “You’re fun to fight. Besides, you won’t spend any time with me otherwise.”
It takes a second for the words to sink in. “Wait,” Lumine says. “You want to spend time with me?”
Childe’s cheeks grow redder. His fever must be getting higher. “I don’t—I don’t exactly mind it,” he says.
Lumine’s eyes narrow. “Childe, do you—”
“You know what, I’ve changed my mind. That stew is delicious, and I will gladly eat it,” he says, reaching for the spoon.
Lumine pulls it away. “You realize you could just—say that, right?”
“Say what?”
Oh I don’t know,” Lumine says. “Maybe hey, Lumine, I promise I’m not planning anything sinister this time around, do you want to go gather starconches or something?”
“I don’t sound anything like that,” Childe says. “And—sinister, really?”
“I mean, I feel like unsealing a giant water serpent and unleashing it on the harbor qualifies as at least a little sinister,” Lumine says. “But it’s entirely possible my standards are just too high.”
“It was really big,” Paimon chirps.
Childe glares at her. “Why don’t you go take a walk?” he says.
“Nuh-uh,” Paimon says. “No way Paimon’s leaving her alone with you.”
“I’ll double the Mora Ekaterina promised you.”
Paimon considers this for a second. Then—, “You’ll be fine if Paimon leaves for a little bit, right?” she says, glancing at Lumine.
Somehow, Lumine doesn’t think she’s in that much danger next to a bedridden Childe, harbinger or not. “Yes, Paimon, I’ll be fine.”
Paimon is gone before Lumine can even blink.
“You don’t actually have to pay her anything,” Lumine says, turning to Childe. “You can keep your Mora.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “You’re missing out on a prime opportunity to drain Fatui funds here.”
“Yeah, well.” Lumine shrugs. “I guess I owe you one.”
“Owe me?” Childe asks.
She nods. “I mean—if you were being honest, then I should probably be a little nicer too. Can’t hurt, right?”
“As long as you don’t go easy on me during our fights.”
Lumine laughs. “I promise to keep fighting you even if you’re about to faint next time,” she says, even though they both know she won’t.
Childe smiles. “It’s a deal,” he says. “But—your food still needs salt.”
Lumine doesn’t hit him (even though she really wants to).
It’s—a start, definitely.