Work Text:
If you had told 19-year-old Kaeya— who had just been bestowed the title of Ordo Favonius’s Cavalry Captain—, that two years from now he’d find himself draped over the back of a Fatui Harbinger, well, he wouldn’t be that shocked. He had accumulated quite a handful of onerous experiences by that time after all, and Kaeya was sure no instance would hold a candle when compared to the aftermath of Crepus’s death.
(He feels his hair, matted and sticking to his forehead from the rain, feels the cold seeping into his skin— the heat emanating from Diluc’s claymore —, feels something heavy and luminous in his palm.
A Vision.)
Unlike the thick air of repugnance Diluc Ragvindr exudes whenever a member of the Fatui steps inside Angel’s Share, the Cavalry Captain harbored a somewhat neutral view regarding them. Although, having heard of how one of their Harbingers tried to harm the Honorary Knight at Liyue’s Golden House (and then outright hearing the details of such a relentless, blood thirsty fight from the knight themself), he could see how one would be cautious around this particular ginger-haired male currently roaming around the cobblestones of Mondstadt.
If the Harbinger noticed the stares and whispers, he chose to pay them no mind.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The Harbinger— no, Snezhnayan Diplomat, Kaeya had to remind himself —, instinctively pivoted on his heels upon hearing the Captain’s gentle greeting, the tone of the bluenette’s voice similar to that of a purr.
They’ve met before this; within the walls of Ordo Favonius’s Headquarters with Jean right beside him, colored in formalities. Kaeya had his gaze fixated on the ginger-haired after memorizing every Fatui personnel inside the room, idly noting the mask perched on the side of his head and the vision (Hydro, how interesting) on his right hip.
Then his eyes. An emptiness masked by the distinct color of prussian, flickering from the Ordo’s Acting Grandmaster towards the Captain’s visage and staying there, shamelessly raking along Kaeya’s statuesque before introducing himself.
Childe, The Harbinger had said.
You don’t forget eyes like that.
Kaeya didn’t shiver when that gaze greeted him again, but the feeling was too close to his liking. “Cavalry Captain,” Childe greeted with a slight drawl, taking another step to crowd Kaeya’s space without a moment of hesitation. Always full of that boyish charm, but never cocky by all means. Confident. “What a delightful surprise. Here to show me around?”
The Captain emitted a genuine chuckle at that. This right here may be a carefully honed instrument of war, but the Harbinger was hardly discreet about his true desires from the way they easily bleed into his words. Kaeya remembers Childe’s lingering stare in the Knights’ Headquarters, darting from his lips to the exposed, unblemished skin of his chest.
Childe wants him to stay—wants him to know that.
“Perhaps some other time, pretty boy,” he absolutely did not miss how the Harbinger’s adam apple bobbed from that, “Duty calls. Electro Hypostasis making trouble in Cape Oath.”
An immediate glint was evident in Childe’s eyes, the arched eyebrow indicating a clear interest upon hearing the piece of information.
“I can be of help,” he grinned, pearly canines showcasing the thinly-veiled blood-thirst the Captain had heard about. “The Knights are stretched thin already. I’d be honored to lighten the weight of your duties, Sir Alberich.”
Kaeya.. considered.
While it won’t be an easy feat, he knew he could take out the Hypostasis by himself (they don’t call him Mondstadt’s Frostblade for nothing), although it’ll be quite the strenuous job; imagining the soreness that’ll most definitely cling to him after was enough to invoke an internal grimace. And this opportunity may inform him of the way Childe fights, allowing him to pick out the Harbinger’s possible weaknesses should the time for such needs arise. Plus, there was still paperwork that had to be done from the Fatui’s arrival. All the good reasons to accept a helping hand, no?
Yes, of course, he thought with a tight-lipped smile. There are perks and benefits. The Cavalry Captain wasn’t going to accept a Harbinger’s offer solely because the latter managed to intrigue him.
“Alright,” Kaeya accepted with a faint hum, convinced that this wasn’t a mistake based on the beaming expression Child wore, “Try not to fall behind with my pace.”
This is a mistake.
Curse the 11th Harbinger, Kaeya thinks with a barely suppressed growl, Curse the Tsaritsa and everything that came from her forsaken land.
The Hypostasis was as hostile as they all come, static electricity immediately filling the air around them at the first hit of Childe’s arrow. It was a flurry of electricity crackling across the air from then on, hydro and cryo clashing with every hostile pulse of the Hypostasis’s energy.
Kaeya didn’t want to step into the battle with any expectation, but even he had a sliver of hope that they’ll fight side by side smoothly and he wouldn’t have to experience an excruciating soreness from today. So he breathed out a silent prayer to Barbatos before freezing an incoming rock.
Well, that prayer went to hell.
Aside from formulating plans after plans on how to counter the next attack as well as fighting back, he has to keep an eye on Childe in case the Hypostasis finds an opening to electrocute the Hydro-visioned Fatui brat into a crisp. Not easy considering said Fatui brat is currently a little too hell-bent on defeating his opponent.
The Harbinger was quick in his movements, seeming to stubbornly push forward through the Hypostasis’s assaults each time to strike its core—and that means Kaeya had to be even swifter, exerting more energy to cover both of their grounds.
In the end, the Hypostasis goes down with a large burst of electro energy (likely as its last effort of retribution, that foul creature) knocking the Cavalry Captain back against a pillar in the process. His lids blink rapidly as if to gain a sense of clarity from the impact, biting back a groan as he slowly shifts.
“Hold still. I got you.”
He feels a pair of hands against him, one strong arm wrapping itself around his back to gently maneuver him up. He sees the color red first: the Harbinger’s scarf barely hanging from that god-awful brooch pinned on his chest, the mask that used to be perched impeccably on his mop of ginger hair now lopsided (both are no doubt caused by that reckless excuse of a fight).
Then those prussian hues came to view again and maybe, just maybe, there was the slightest hint of worry swimming in that vast sea of emptiness. Though Kaeya’s willing to bet that was just his disoriented vision playing tricks on him.
“Childe,” he breathes once he’s sitting up. And then, annoyingly, “Childe.”
“It almost knocked you out cold there, Captain,” The Harbinger grinned, and Kaeya has half the mind to freeze it off of his face. God, he’s tired. “Can you stand?”
“Give me a moment.” Is the Captain’s sharp reply, yet it lacks any real bite and only gives away a mild sense of irritation. “Mind you, I didn’t come here to babysit a Harbinger who’s too rash for his own good.”
He fixes a pointed stare, reminding just who to blame for their current predicament as he remembers the number of rocks he had to freeze to prevent them from clashing against the Snezhnayan Diplomat. Childe at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish, posture relaxed as if he knew Kaeya isn’t going to get up soon.
“Sorry. They say I can get carried away sometimes.” There’s a story behind that sentence; Kaeya has the feeling that he won’t be hearing it in the near future, though. Instead, the Captain lets out a small sigh, the previous annoyance already evaporating away just from Childe’s genuinely honest tone.
“Fine. I’ll let it slide this one time.” his lashes flutter briefly as he rests his head against the Harbinger’s shoulder, peering up towards that endless blue. If Kaeya isn’t as exhausted, he would chuckle at the way Childe briefly tenses, pink creeping up the ginger-haired’s cheeks as if he’s suddenly hyper-aware he still has one arm securely wrapped around the Cavalry Captain’s back.
Cute. “But you’ll have to carry me back.”
“Heh?” Childe coughs.
“In case it’s not clear enough for you, I’m positively beat. The sooner we get to Mondstadt, the sooner I rest,” a small smirk makes its way to his face. “And the sooner I get to show you around.”
The Harbinger’s gaze gave Kaeya’s form a once-over and the prussian screams want, want, want. Kaeya relishes in the knowledge, knows that his boundless charms are more intoxicating than any spirit in Angel’s Share and the Harbinger’s aching to get the next taste of it. Perhaps it was the grueling fight that managed to shed away bits of the veil previously masking Childe’s true feelings, yet he cannot help the tinge of pride swirling in his chest.
“Alright.” The ginger-haired shifts until his back is facing the Cavalry Captain, arms extending backward as if ushering the bluenette into a piggyback position. “But if you make a fuss, I’ll drop you.” He adds with a low mutter, an attempt to have the upper hand between them despite the tips of his ears flaring red.
“I’ll be good.” Kaeya purrs as a means to tease one last time, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Childe’s neck while simultaneously resting his head on the latter’s shoulder.
He smells like the battle that had just unfolded, like sweat and something else inherently Childe—like the Snezhnayan cold air that clings onto him everywhere he goes, a motherland’s calling for one of its children to come home. Kaeya feels his eyes flutter as the man beneath begins to support his legs, holds them firmly and securely (like a true soldier, his mind supplies) and grants himself the liberty of tucking his head near the crook of the Harbinger’s neck before slowly inhaling.
If Childe notices, he chooses to pay no mind.
There’s a tiny part of him that screams not to fall asleep right here, draped over the ginger-haired’s back as the latter carries him home. This was the enemy. The Harbinger who almost caused Liyue to drown in the great blue. A soldier who can most definitely kill and dispose of his body without a trace left behind.
Yet one fleeting stroke of Childe’s thumb against his clothed thigh was enough to put those thoughts at ease, reciprocating the action with a barely audible hum as his eyes swayed with the temptation of slumber. His body really is sore.
Childe seems to take note of him relaxing, and he soon feels a gentle squeeze delivered to his right thigh.
“You can rest, Kaeya.” The ginger-haired murmurs softly, insistently, and he almost wants to grasp at how tender his name sounds rolling off of Childe’s tongue. “I’ll get you home.”
When Kaeya drifts to sleep he dreams of the ocean and orange skies.