Chapter Text
Silver. Wooden stakes. Holy water. Redheads.
Those are the majority of Childe's weaknesses. Unfortunately for him, the hunter, who has been tailing him for months now, ticks off all four of those boxes. Tossing his scarf over his shoulder, he knocks a head of broccoli into the shopping cart, eyeing the reflection of the hunter in the monitor above the 24-hour grocery store's door. He's broad-shouldered, built like a statue, with a thick mane of scarlet hair tied into a messy ponytail. Childe can smell him from here, the scent of worn leather and sage, and he runs the back of his hand over his mouth to hide the rapid growth of his fangs. Oh, what he would give to taste a hunter.
The last one he met was, what, a century and a half ago? Some cute little thing, golden hair, golden eyes, and a penchant for mercy. Briefly, Childe wonders if they ever did find their sibling. Mentally noting down to look their name up later and see if they're up for a rematch, he rounds the corner, searching the shelves for cranberry juice. As expected, the hunter follows soon after, seemingly engrossed in a hastily-scrawled list in his hand. Childe's eyes sharpen. Shit, he has good hands.
Silver, wooden stakes, holy water, redhead, and sexy, sexy hands - this guy really aims above and beyond. He suppresses a laugh, placing two cartons of fruit juice in his shopping basket, and saunters over to the till, fishing around his back pockets for his wallet. As the tired cashier rings him up, Childe glances over his shoulder; lo and behold, the hunter is loitering around the butcher's section, trading words with the drowsy employee behind the desk. Taking the liberty of scoping out the opposition, Childe takes in just how tall he is. His stalker well proportioned, long legs and a trim waist - alright, maybe Childe's not usually into the leggy ones, but goddamn, this man is fine. Shamelessly, he imagines what he tastes like. Perhaps a fine vintage, deep and rich in taste, or maybe a smokier, burning whiskey sour?
Momentarily, he wonders if he's the type to play around with his hits. There was this one hunter, a real tease, who was more than eager to let their little game of cat and mouse stretch over a few years. Such a shame he got repositioned. Frankly, Childe has come to dislike the Guild for more personal reasons, said reasons being that they change the shifts of their hunters every half a century, and that means as soon as Childe makes a new friend, they are torn away from him by the tyranny of the system. Also, the price they've settled for him is only a few grand, and that - well, that's just insulting.
"Sir?" A voice rouses him out of his daydreaming, and he snaps back to attention. "Sir? Do you want an extra bag for this, or...?"
Rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, Childe lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "Ah, sorry. Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."
Behind him, the hunter stops talking, glancing over his shoulder in thought.
Diluc doesn't have weaknesses. He has strengths, and he has patience, and by God, this bloodsucker is really testing both. As the vampire practically frolics out of the grocery store, a bag of inedible food in hand, Diluc rolls his sleeves up. The butcher waves goodbye as he heads over to the self-checkout, trying his best to keep his eyes on the vampire as he crosses through the parking lot. If Diluc cuts him off before he can mingle with the crowd of shoppers frantically salvaging dinner plans and forgotten date nights, then he can quickly dispatch of him before the Guild's representative gets in the way. He slides his card through the machine, punches out his pin, and makes a beeline for the automatic doors.
"Diluc?"
Fuck. Shit. Diluc turns on his heel, plastering a smile on his face as he takes in a sight he would literally beg to never see again.
"Huffman, it's been a while." He says, cursing inwardly.
The other man smiles back. "Yeah, it sure has. How're things going? I haven't seen you since you walked out on the hit in Sumeru."
Ouch. Salt straight in the wound. Not only does Huffman lack tact, but it seems that the Guild has shown up early, for once. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Diluc grins blandly.
"Things are fine. Busy." He says emphatically, but ridiculously, Huffman doesn't get the hint. Either that, or he's deliberately stalling. Prick.
"And by busy, you wouldn't mean illegally tailing an A-Class hit without a permit, would you?"
Diluc sighs. Prick, it is. "Huffman, I don't have the time for those anymore. I have a business to take care of, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be off."
Swiveling away and walking out of the door as fast as humanly possible, Diluc scans the parking lot for his lost target, his grip shifting around the plastic bag in his hand. Unsurprisingly, the vampire isn't anywhere to be seen, and the tell-tale scent of iron and ashes is long gone from the air. Cursing, Diluc glances down at his watch, absentmindedly patting his back pocket for the keys to his car. The entire plan has been dashed hopelessly to pieces, and that means Diluc's going to have to pour even more resources into chasing down some damned mosquito, and for what? Satisfaction? Revenge? Just because he fucking can?
He huffs, unlocking the car and slumping into the front seat. The bag of groceries droops sadly in his lap, deflating in defeat. Inside is a box of mint leaves and a beer, two things he has absolutely no use for. Alcohol messes with him more than he'd admit, although he likes to say it overloads his hunter's senses and makes him inefficient. It's a half-lie, but a lie nonetheless. With a world-weary sigh, Diluc leans forward, hitting his forehead on the steering wheel in frustration.
"Cheer up, sunshine, you're not completely finished." A voice jovially calls out from his backseat, and Diluc's eyes snap open.
Almost instantly, he sits up, yanking the handle near the bottom of his seat and dropping it backward with as much force as he can muster. A winded "Oof!" comes from behind him, and as he looks over his shoulder, the hunter's face contorts into a dark frown. Currently pinned underneath his car seat is the vampire he's been tailing, wriggling like a bug underneath a taxidermist's needle.
"Alright, alright," He groans. "I'll knock next time."
Diluc drives the seat back even further. "Our father, who art in heaven -"
Pressing his hands to his ears and grimacing in pain, the vampire screws an eye shut, attempting to shy away from the sound. "Ah, ah, stop! I'll behave, I promise."
Getting a good look at him now, Diluc takes in the mess of strawberry blonde hair, cold blue eyes, and an unholy amount of freckles. For a creature of the night, he sure looks like his natural habitat is in the sunlight. Taken aback by his appearance, Diluc can't help but stare for a few seconds, but he quickly snaps out of it, remembering his place and untucking his crucifix from underneath his shirt.
"Why are you in my car? Do you have a deathwish?" He demands, and the vampire glances briefly at the swinging pendant, his eyes sharpening in hunger. Perhaps it was an ill-thought-out plan to loosen his collar.
Shrugging, the vampire gives him a haphazard grin, drumming his fingers against the car seat. "Maybe. I just wanted to take a good look at you. For a Guild hunter, you're rather persistent. By now, they should have sent out at least two of you to track me down."
Diluc scowls. "I'm not associated with the Guild."
"So you're pursuing me of your own volition?" He presses a hand to his chest, making a show out of swooning against the car door. "A man after my own heart!"
God, Diluc is going to fucking kill him. You would think that eternal, damned life would sober up an immortal or two, but it seems to have gone to this one's head. Already, Diluc can scope out the key elements of his personality: irritating, cocky, and a complete show-off. In fact, he bets this vampire hasn't even mastered teleportation yet.
"All bark and no bite," The hunter murmurs aloud.
It's at that moment that the faintly amused look in the creature's eyes changes, suddenly hardening into a stare like a riptide current, deep and dangerous. With an easy push, the vampire drives the seat upward, sending Diluc's back ramming hard against the steering wheel, his elbow hitting the dashboard with a painful thud. Before he can react, the redhead is being pushed forward, a hand on the nape of his neck sending his face into the cushion of the front seat, which hurtles back from the impact. The vampire laughs airily, his knee pressed into the base of Diluc's spine. Well, perhaps he was wrong about the teleportation.
He snickers. "So if you're not with the Guild, sunshine, and you're doing this without all of their fancy paperwork, then who's the seasoned hunter I've been expecting? Please don't tell me all you're good at is following breadcrumbs."
Oh, this is just too good. Not even five minutes, and Childe's got a hunter pinned under him like a worm on a hook. He grins as the redhead snarls up at him, crimson eyes burning with anger. It sends an inkling of excitement running down his spine, and he brushes the thick ponytail out of the way to run the pad of his thumb over the hunter's jugular vein. His pulse flutters like a fox caught in a trap.
"Oh dear, weren't you expecting this?" He teases, rubbing gentle circles over the hunter's pulse point. "You're so scared, sunshine. It's cute, I'll admit, but surely you're not some amateur who didn't make the Guild's standards, are you?"
Beneath him, the hunter fucking growls and plants his hands on either side of his chest, trying to push up against inhuman strength. It's futile, obviously. Being trapped under that car seat was just a show, seeing as Childe could rip the thing in half in a matter of seconds, so keeping a little hunter under him is really just a walk in the park. Childe laughs softly, and yes, perhaps he's a little smug, but he deserves it. Just a little arrogance as a treat for outsmarting the vampire hunter.
"If you so much as think that little prayer of yours, I'll crush you into the car, sunshine, so don't get all smart-mouthed on me." He adds, grinding his knee into the arch of the redhead's back.
He groans, clenching his jaw in frustration. "What do you want?"
There's a slight pause, and Childe straightens up a little, thinking hard. What exactly does he want? Childe's fine on funds, seeing as his bank account has racked up plenty of money in his years on this plane, and protection from the Guild is practically slander against his very name - it's unneeded and insulting, thank you very much.
Idly, the vampire thinks about asking for a taste of this hunter, but in all honesty, he'd much rather have it offered to him without fear of being chemically bonded to a car seat. It's fun to make them plead for it.
"Fight me," He says simply, tilting his head to one side to look the hunter in the eye.
Scoffing, he glares back up at him, brow knotted. "You're rather impatient."
Childe preens at the insult, tossing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Flatterer. You really know the way to get a guy going."
Underneath his hand, the hunter's pulse flares again, thrumming at the pace of a startled jackrabbit's. Even his car smells like him, which is a no-brainer, but the scent is so intense, Childe has to stop to savor it, running his tongue over the tips of his fangs. Leaning down to trail his nose across the curve of the redhead's jaw, he laughs softly, his touch gentle. All of his self-control goes down the drain as the hunter stares up at him, breath shuddering in his chest.
"Although a bite couldn't hurt."
Before the man can open his mouth to reply, Childe sinks his fangs above his collar, lapping hungrily at the hot blood spilling from his jugular. The second it reaches his tongue, he hums in satisfaction, a shiver running down his spine. God in heaven, the taste is nothing like he's ever had before. Complex like a vintage wine and deep like mulled cider, the hunter tastes like how a warm fireplace with a drink in your hand feels. Comforting and rich in taste, he can't help but grip the fabric of his shirt to steady himself, his hands shaking slightly.
In fact, it's so good, it even takes a moment for Childe to realize that there is a crucifix pressing against his own neck. As the silver sizzles against his skin, he flies backward, clutching at the burn in pain. In his haste, Childe slams his head against the ceiling, the car shaking from the impact. He draws his hand back, feeling a blister bubble from the subsiding heat. Motherfucker.
The hunter takes his opportunity to flip onto his back, slamming his thigh in between Childe's legs. "Jesus fucking Christ!"
Ouch. A small trickle of smoke escapes from his lips as his tongue throbs in pain. Holy names aren't to be used, no matter how shocked Childe might be. Wincing in pain, the ginger-haired vampire bends at the waist, gritting his teeth. Beneath him, the hunter clamps a hand over his neck, a thin trickle of blood seeping through his fingers. Delirious from the strong scent, Childe feels his head spin, a dull pain throbbing in his neck. It's only now that he realizes that this was maybe a bad idea.
To make matters worse, that's when the man outside knocks on the window.
As he reels from the shock, Diluc's eyes flicker over to Huffman's face, an addled frown contorting his features. He doesn't have time to open the window, seeing as the hunter immediately wrenches the door open and peers inside, a hand on the crucifix strapped to his belt. Glancing up at the vampire, Diluc snatches his ponytail out and fluffs it over his shoulders, obscuring the bite mark on his neck before Huffman can see it.
"I thought I told you to keep quiet!" Diluc hisses, glancing pointedly from the tawny-haired vampire's eyes to Huffman's.
He thanks God that his overgrown mosquito has some semblance of a brain as a look of understanding washes over his face. Quick as lightning, it changes into a look of bashfulness, a sheepish smile stretching across his face, relaxing onto Diluc's lap.
"Ah, my bad, sunshine." He says, patting Diluc's thigh. His thumb brushes against the inner seam of his pants, and the redhead feels the back of his neck flush, and he's so glad he keeps his hair long.
Huffman, on the other hand, looks as though he's swallowed a bee. Fumbling to hide the Guild-assigned cross from view, he gulps, stepping back and staring at the floor as if it holds the secrets of the universe.
"Ah, I'm - I'm so - I'll just go, now." He mutters, staring at the floor.
Diluc stares at his retreating back, watching him do a funny little half-run around the corner, making a beeline for the nearest bus station. As soon as he's out of sight, Diluc pulls out his knife from where it's strapped underneath the glove compartment, shutting the door in the process. Glaring darkly down at him as he loosens his scarf, the vampire doesn't react to the knife being pointed at his face, save for a single glance downward.
"This is personal, now, dickhead." Diluc hisses. "If you want a fight, I'll give you one. The Guild won't get the satisfaction of staking you and dumping your ashes down a sewage drain."
A sharp smile spreads across the vampire's face and, through the strawberry blonde curls, Diluc can see the tell-tale glint of an earring in his left ear as he tilts his head to the side.
He says, "Charming. You'll know where to find me, right?"
Oh, he will. The oozing arrogance and scent of smug bastard are so unmistakable, Diluc would find him in a mere matter of minutes. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the hunter carves a cut the length of a single coin's diameter in the vampire's cheek, watching the blood well like ripe berries against his freckled skin.
"There," He says, his tone cold, "now we're even."