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When Childe and Zhongli begin living together, there's no dramatic change or twist that comes of it. Rather, the two seamlessly become a part of each other's lives more and more, and it is something that Childe is forever grateful for.
At first, having just moved in, Childe was a little worried. He had wondered if Zhongli could still face him the next morning, as Childe goes off into the night. In the name of his Tsarista, Childe still remains duty-bound, an aspect of his life that he holds like a badge of honor.
It is now nothing more than an embarrassing memory.
For who would understand duty no better other than the old God of Contracts himself? So easily did the two connect like this, their pretenses gone and understood. What lies between them now is honesty and respect, something that Childe will covet forever in his life.
Living so seamlessly like this, it was inevitable that such a scene would happen.
On an ordinary sunny morning in Liyue, Childe rises to the sounds of birds chirping. Such a sound has become routine in Childe's life - as living with Zhongli apparently brought all sorts of Liyue's wildlife to their home. Compared to Snezhnaya, everything was truly warmer.
But nothing would feel as warm as what would come next.
In front of the mirror, next to the closet, stands Zhongli himself. But the divergence begins here, for Childe's dear funeral consultant was not wearing his usual suit and coat at all.
It's Childe's own Fatui uniform adorned on Zhongli, the color clashing with his features, and Zhongli at a huff for how unwell-kept everything seemed.
"Haha, hey now. You don't start off in the Fatui wearing a harbinger's clothes."
Zhongli looks up at the mirror to see Childe, a smirk on the harbinger's face.
"Please. I have no interest in such things." Instead, Zhongli busies himself with the mysterious show of skin Childe's uniform possesses, attempting to hide it by pulling down the shirt. It's hilarious. Childe laughs even more.
"If you're taking my shirt for the day," Childe coughs, as an attempt to rein himself in. "You'll be leaving your beloved with nothing, you know."
Zhongli scoffs at that, and gestures to the closet in return. "Then there is a simple solution. Feel free to make your pick."
Greedily now does Childe open the closet, opening it to see hundreds of the same black coat, a sight that adds to Childe's seemingly endless laughter. Despite this, he still manages to carefully extract one coat, admiring it in the soft bedroom light.
"Definitely this one, I think. A good ol' Zhongli classic. Can't go wrong with it."
Zhongli just huffs, seemingly pleased. "Naturally. Would you like for me to help you put it on?" And although presented as a question, Zhongli doesn't seem to wait for any type of approval.
He already knows that for simple things like this, Childe would let him do anything.
The two work in silence at this, Childe standing straight as a soldier, and moving whenever prompted. Zhongli moves easily like this, fixing the buttons and fixing the creases, so easily and in complete silence.
Moments like this, Childe thinks, are a rare treasure.
Because in actuality, Childe and Zhongli don't tend to work together at all. Their lives are different, to the point where some would even say that they are moving in opposite directions. But they will always return here, to this shared apartment as some sort of reprieve. To give what the other cannot have.
Zhongli lingers on Childe's hands, bringing the harbinger back to reality. To Childe's calluses and scars, Zhongli's untouched and smooth skin, the truth stares them face on. They are different.
But still-
His hand is raised to Zhongli's face, his knuckles feeling the soft kiss of the other's lips.
"I worry sometimes," Zhongli's breath is tickling him, making a hunger within Childe roar like he's never known before, "That your hands won't fit with mine anymore."
"Pfft," Childe doesn't move his hand away. Doesn't want to, in fact. "That's nothing. We're still here, aren't we?"
And Zhongli holds on with a firm grasp, now confident and satisfied.
The silence sits on them like a fresh new bed of snow.