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Your fingers drummed across the table, your other hand patting your left cheek as you allowed your head’s weight to be carried by your hand. The clock ticked in sync with your breathing, eyes following the figure of the short and annoyed young man pacing across the room with amusement flickering in them.
“You’re really anxious about this, aren’t you?” You smiled, chuckling.
Scaramouche whips his head, turning to look at you with a scoff following afterward. “Oh no, it seems that apologies have to be made to the person who made the biggest mistake yet in all missions to have ever been given. Thanks for being a fuck-up, by the way, I really appreciate it.” His sarcasm nearly drove you to laughter, but you kept it in, knowing bursting out would only fuel his irritation more.
“Jeez, lighten up a little bit.” Your carefree manner was irking the Harbinger, his left eye twitching a bit at your lack of tact and wariness.
This was the Tsaritsa he was about to see right now! Because of you !
“’Lighten up’?” He mocks you, glaring at you as stepped over to your circle, his two hands slamming down on the counter of the desk, aura completely authoritative and superior amongst yours. “As special whatever we have may be, I might need to remind you again that I am in control of this relationship. That I have bigger things to take care of. That I’m really mad at you right now and I have no time for—”
You snorted at his attempt to intimidate you, your hands immediately wrapping him by the neck as you pulled him close, causing him to lose his grip on the slick table. Nearly falling chin-first onto the desk, you saved him from pain by putting his head to your chest, grinning. Scaramouche turns red at your actions, trying his best to wriggle out of your hug (as much as he’d love to stay there though, he’s supposed to be mad at you) but quite unsuccessfully, just went limp in your hold.
The male stays still in your embrace, his nose inhaling your scent, his eyes fluttering to a close as he hoped to remember this fragrance to the grave before letting out an indignant scoffs in his head. Perhaps he could humor you a little bit and hug you back — Scaramouche thinks you wouldn’t even have the audacity to mimic him now, anyway—
“Oh? I thought you were mad at me?” Your grin was Cheshire-like, eyes like crescent moons as if belittling him for his sudden gesture of affection.
Or maybe you did have the balls to do that right now.
And immediately, Scaramouche goes back to untangling himself from your hold, shoving you off him as he crosses his arms with a glare, although face is still evidently red from embarrassment. “Alright, stop playing with me. We can do whatever you want later after we’re done with the job.”
You raised a brow. “I thought we were already finished?”
“No, unfortunately. I’m pretty sure we’d get extra work to compensate for what you did.” Scaramouche sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head goes back to the brief memory from an hour ago of your pathetic screw-up before giving you a slight glare. “Right, thanks for that, by the way.” He remarks, practically hearing the sardonic tone dripping from his lips.
You grinned at him, your brows lifting at his sarcasm as you piped up. “You sure are sweet today. This is the second time you’ve thanked me. Maybe I should fuck up more—”
“Please don’t.” He sighs.
“Whatever you say, boss.” You laugh, lighthearted as you relish in the heartwarming atmosphere around you and your superior.
It was a curious one, indeed, how you’d ended up being Scaramouche’s… whatever you call yourself.
Were you his underling? Definitely. Did you have something special with the Fifth Harbinger? Of course. Were you his lover? No, no you weren’t.
You two had something special, but it was not love.
Well, at least that’s what Scaramouche claims anyway. He was the only one in your relationship who thought that way. You one-sidedly believe that he was indeed your boyfriend, while you were his girl. Of course, Scaramouche mocked that belief and said it was ridiculous (it was a little funny how he continued to insult you when he, himself, had a red face that told you how embarrassed he was).
No matter what you did, you’d always catch him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. And every time you would ‘forget’ lunch, Scaramouche would mutter insulting words under his breath but would offer you half of his lunch and if he’s feeling a little too good, he might even feed you himself. Then oftentimes, he would tell others with a proud and confident stature; it never failed to make you giddy and happy — “I trust in my underling. She’s a rare gem.”
How sweet.
Well, regardless of how he saw you, you dearly were and truly just that woman by his side that doted on him one-sidedly.
You stared at him as he paced back and forth in front of you, his exhales trying to maintain balance to not lose focus and patience. You watched him with close eyes, (e/c) orbs trailing as his hands that were smaller compared to most men his age tightened incredulously into fists. You watched as his violet pair of jewels dripped with uncertainty and nervousness. His foot tapped repeatedly on the floor every time he’d stop prancing across the room.
It was strange — what was it about this short, young man that captivated you? He was your typical boss who may or may not have anger issues, sarcastic and just a tiny bit too lax for his own good after a job well done. Yet he’d snatched your fragile heart just like that. He was dangerous on so many levels.
Scaramouche peeked from under his large hat, noticing your fond stare on his figure that looked so awkward stepping forward and back in front of you. “What are you looking at?”
You stiffen, a flustered blush crawling through your cheeks as he loses focus just to talk to you. So he did care. He showed in the most minuscule gestures, but nonetheless, appreciated. You smiled at him gently before it morphed into a teasing grin. “You’re such a softie sometimes, Scaramouche.”
This irked him, of course. His pride mattered a lot to him. It was funny to you how much pride and energy he had stored within that petite body of his. It was also ridiculous how much you mocked him for his height when he was still taller than you.
“Sorry for giving a shit.” he grumbled instantly, crossing his arms as he looked away pettily. This earned a lighthearted chuckle from you, standing up from your seat and stepping towards him with a skip to your step. Scaramouche eyed you tentatively, giving you a small pout he didn’t know he made every time he was growing wary — one of his many habits that you’d adored as time passed by. “What are you doing?”
You stand in front of him, a smile cheekily curved up on your lips while your two hands were intertwined behind your back, your chest touching his which elicited a small quiet yelp from him at the contact.
You grinned at him. “After you’re done, wanna grab dinner with me?”
He narrowed his eyes at you, proudly pumping his chest towards you as well to assert dominance. Man, you always thought it was hot every time he did that — him showing superiority was honestly attractive.
Scaramouche raises his right hand up to his hat to keep it from accidentally covering his line of vision or falling, his face leaning closer towards you. “Dinner better be on you, (Y/n).” His face had this wretched smirk that sent butterflies to your stomach — god, he knew exactly what type of effect he had on you, just like what you did to him.
“You haven’t even paid me this week yet…” You try to avert your eyes from his, his stare that bore into yours now flustering you to no end.
“Yeah, but you offered.”
“Fair point. But it’s still unfair that I don’t get my paycheck—” You grumbled before pulling away — well, at least tried to, you couldn’t even fathom what happened next because the next thing you knew was your left wrist being held firmly, his breath unimaginably close to yours to the point you could feel the mint fan at your lips.
“Consider this your punishment, love.” Scaramouche whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against your ear that sent tingles down your spine just how close he was before leaning slightly back — his lips had slightly, just slightly touched yours and fuck that nearly sent you to a high.
Was he actually taking your relationship to the next level? You didn’t think he’d have the nerve! And what’s up with ‘love’?! He’d never called you that before!
You immediately push him away, blushing furiously ignoring the victorious look he threw at you. What a jerk. “Jeez, do you live off of me all embarrassed or something?” You huffed, eyes still avoiding him like the plague.
“Maybe,” he smiles slightly before turning his attention to the door that had been opened by a Fatui agent who nodded acknowledgingly towards the Sixth Harbinger. Scaramouche sighs, feeling his heart beat fast once more at the current situation he was forced to be in. He looked at you whose expression now appeared guilty before scoffing. “Man up a little, (Y/n). I chose you as one of my more tolerable officers because I trust in you. You messed up, and that’s fine.”
No, for real — who was this guy?? You gaped at him.
Scaramouche eyed your shocked look before turning red slightly at the tips of his ears, his back facing you suddenly when he spun for you to avoid seeing his cerise face. “You’re paying for dinner though. You owe me for giving me so much work, you little troublemaker.” He scoffed.
Your stare lingered on his back a bit more before nodding, giggling. A bounce in your step as your hands went around his body to give him a warm hug. Scaramouche froze in your hold but didn’t dare move, letting you shower him with affection while also glaring at the Fatui agent who awkwardly looked at every corner in the room to give you two some privacy. And as quick as you jumped on him, your lips caught his cheek — it was a brief, sweet peck but the feeling never fled and it sent the Harbinger flushed.
Scaramouche was not known for being a coward too, so it didn’t come off as a surprise to anyone when he twirled around just to face you, his right hand tipping his massive hat beside your faces to cover the sight from the Fatui agent who stood idly by the entrance to the Tsaritsa’s office.
And in a swift motion, his lips caught yours as revenge.
His lips moved against yours in sync, his actions sending fluttering explosions that sent you into an overdrive. His left hand had made its way to the back of your head, pushing you closer to him, his head tilting to deepen the kiss he shared with you. Sparks went wild in your head and stomach, your toes curling as the kiss got warmer and warmer, his upper teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip. A few seconds passed and he’d finally pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting his lip to yours.
As soon as the high had faded, your eyes widened and a mad blush overtook your features, your hand immediately going over to cover your mouth. Scaramouche put back his hat on, purple swirls looking at you with a smirk plastered.
‘We’ll continue later,’ He mouthed that sent your body aflame before he disappeared behind the closed door to meet the Tsaritsa.
Who really was the troublemaker between the two of you?