Work Text:
Scaramouche stared at the black letters on the cream colored paper, at the signature beneath the carefully composed text.
This must have been a mistake. He must have missed something, or simply got it wrong, but no matter how many times he read the file, the words just wouldn’t change. As ridiculous as it sounded, it said just what he had understood when he had skimmed it the first time.
“That’s unexpected.”
Scaramouche glared up at Childe next to him.
“Unexpected? That’s a fucking nightmare.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way...”
He would have put it exactly that way.
Scaramouche read the assignment again, in a desperate attempt to find a detail he had missed before. He didn’t. Every word stayed exactly the same, and so did the names mockingly glancing up at him.
With a groan, he closed the file.
This couldn’t be happening.
“What are you getting so upset about?”
Scaramouche looked up again.
“Why are you not upset?”
Childe shrugged.
“I don’t really mind. Sounds like fun.”
Scaramouche just stared at him.
Taking out some ruin hunters going berserk was fun, training with new recruits was fun, even writing reports could be considered as fun. Going to the town of Mondstadt, pretending to be Childe’s boyfriend only to carry out some observations was everything but. Because it was just that: carry out some observations. They weren’t supposed to actively gain intel but to just merge in the town of Mondstadt to get an impression about its citizens, and of course the famous Knights of Favonius. Nothing else.
How did the Tsaritsa even get this idea?
They were Harbingers, not some subordinates with too much time on their hands. She could have sent pretty much anyone else.
“This is ridiculous. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would she send us?”
Childe shrugged again.
“I don’t know. Guess she considers us suitable for the job.”
Scaramouche huffed. He hadn’t expected a useful answer. He didn’t even know why he had asked Childe to begin with. The other didn’t have any other information than he did. They had been called to an office and got handed two files without so much as a comment.
Besides, Childe was right. If the Tsaritsa decided to send them on a mission together, she had her reasons, no matter how absurd the assignment.
He didn’t doubted her. It wasn’t that he really minded, either, it had just taken him aback. It felt like the Tsaritsa knew something she wasn’t supposed to know, and either lent him a hand, or wanted to test him. Either way, he didn’t feel comfortable. He hadn’t been fighting against everything inside him whenever Childe was in the same room, only to end up as his boyfriend. A fake one, but that wasn’t the point.
With a sigh, Scaramouche headed to the door.
“I guess I start packing then.”
The air was warm, carrying the faint smell of the sea, as they walked down a dusty path leading to the gates of the town of Mondstadt.
He had never been here before, but seen plenty of pictures to have an idea. Yet, when the town rose in front of him, the walls and buildings growing with every step, he couldn’t help but stare in awe.
Childe next to him seemed just as impressed.
It was so different from every place he had been to. Even from outside the walls, he heard the lively voices, dogs barking, and the sound of bells in the distance.
So, this was their honeymoon destination.
Scaramouche glanced up at Childe. The other met his eyes, smiled at him, and Scaramouche didn’t know whether he was excited or wanted to punch him.
Then, the other laid an arm around his shoulder, and Scaramouche decided it was the latter.
“Let’s get going, babe.”
They were allowed into town without further ado. The guards only shot them a friendly smile and wished them a pleasant stay.
They walked up the stairs to a fountain, Childe’s arm still around him. Nearby, two Fatui were absorbed in a conversation, but Scaramouche didn’t miss the glances. Knowing the Tsaritsa, they all knew about their mission and their goal to remain uncovered. Probably, they were even ordered to report on how well they played their little act.
As if he would have ever failed.
Scaramouche cursed the mission in its entirety, but it was still an assignment, and he was the 6th Harbinger. No matter how ridiculous the job, he was going to ace it.
Scaramouche placed his hand on Childe’s waist and leaned against him, ignoring his racing pulse.
Childe seemed surprised at the sudden approach, but smiled again and tightened the grip around his shoulder.
“That way.”
Their inn was close to the main street, but hidden between resident buildings. The room was small and decorated just like he imagined a typical Mondstadt interior was supposed to look like. There was lots of wood, but compared to Liyue or Inazuma, it was brighter and there were lesser ornaments, giving everything a rather rustic and old-fashioned look. Flowers, he had never seen before, were arranged in vase on the table, and a picture above the bed showed a similar landscape they had passed through a little while ago.
It was fine, even though he would have preferred something simpler, or less cliché. And a room of his own.
Scaramouche dropped his bag on a chair and sat down on the bed, trying very hard not to think about the fact that this was where he was going to spend the following nights with Childe.
If the Tsaritsa had planned to get rid of him during a mission, she was achieving just that, because there was no way he was going to survive that.
“You’re up for lunch?”
Scaramouche glanced up.
How was this guy able to keep his calm? Right, he wasn’t pretending to go out with the guy he actually really wanted to go out with.
Scaramouche pushed himself up.
“If there’s booze.”
Childe laughed and interlaced their fingers.
“Anything you want, babe.”
They went to a restaurant with the unimaginative name Good Hunter. At this time of the day, there were hardly any customers. They took a table at the back with view over the main street with its small stores and ordered whatever sounded interesting. It was way too much, but since he had been granted the pleasure of a visit to Mondstadt, he wasn’t going to miss the local specialties.
He was just cutting a piece of fish from a skewer, when a fork with he had no idea what appeared in front of his face.
Childe grinned at him from across the table.
“Try that.”
“I can eat by myself.”
“Let me feed you.”
“No.”
“Come one. Couples do that.”
“Fuck off, Childe.”
“You should be nicer to your boyfriend.”
“Fuck off, sweetheart.”
Childe laughed, but finally gave up, and kept eating.
He was really into the whole thing.
Scaramouche leaned back in his chair. Childe poked at a potato and cut it in half, before he put it into his mouth, a satisfied smile on his face. His blue eyes scanned the different dishes, then slender fingers reached out to a piece of bread. He wasn’t wearing any gloves that day, no scarf, no mask. Nothing reminded of the deadly Harbinger he was. He looked just like an ordinary young man. A very handsome one, but ordinary nonetheless. The only thing that remained of his usual attire was the single earring clinking with his every movement.
Scaramouche wondered whether Childe ever took it off.
He was going to find out that night.
After lunch, they strolled through town. They had barely left the restaurant and were going down a smaller street, when Childe’s hand found his again.
Scaramouche let him.
He could have done without them touching all the time even if Childe had been his boyfriend for real, but he wasn’t going to complain. He guessed it was more authentic that way.
In front of one of the many stores, Childe stopped, forcing him to a halt as well. He pointed at a book about Mondstadt and leaned closer.
“There’s Kaeya Alberich.”
Childe’s breath tickled his ear.
Scaramouche took the book. It was a collection with short stories taking place in and around Mondstadt.
He opened it and skimmed the pages.
“There, to your right.”
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a tall man with dark blue hair letting his fingers wander over the back of different books.
“I’ll buy it for you.”
Scaramouche went to the cashier and paid. On his way out, he cast a last glance at the Cavalry Captain, before he slung his arm around Childe’s waist and handed him the book.
“Thanks.”
Childe placed a kiss on his head, and Scaramouche couldn’t help but flinch under the touch.
“You’re up for drinks later?”
Scaramouche nodded.
Kaeya Alberich was known for spending his free hours at a tavern. Many Fatui had mentioned him being regularly among the last customers, but without ever slacking off at work. According to them, no matter how late he left or how much he drank, Kaeya Alberich never failed his duty. After all, he was the Cavalry Captain.
However, it might have been due to the presence of the Fatui. He would have been an idiot if he had let himself go with the enemy only a few tables away from him.
But Kaeya Alberich didn’t know they were Fatui. To him, they were nothing but a couple spending a few days in Mondstadt.
They had only just ordered drinks and were studying the snacks between them on the small table, as the door to the tavern swung open and a smirking Kaeya Alberich stepped over the threshold.
That was fast.
The Captain greeted the man behind the counter and sat down at a table not too far from them.
His drink arrived without an order.
Childe looked at him with raised eyebrows, and Scaramouche held his gaze. The other was sitting with his back to Kaeya, so it was on him to observe him as casually as possible.
He would have preferred it the other way round.
He didn’t mind undercover missions or gaining intel the way others would have described as unethical. He didn’t care about that. He was good at it, but usually, he was alone. Even though he needed to pretend to be someone else, he always felt comfortable, no matter which role he chose to play. Now, he didn’t. Going by as Childe’s boyfriend hit a little too close to home. Despite his experience as a member of the Fatui, for the first time, he questioned whether he was able to live up to the assignment. He felt like everything about them screamed fake and anyone crossing their path was able to see right through them. Especially someone with the rank of a Cavalry Captain.
Scaramouche glanced behind Childe again, just as Kaeya looked up from his glass. Despite the distance and the dim light, he believed to spot the hint of a grin on the other’s features.
He tore his gaze away.
Maybe, it was time to step up his game.
He eyed his drink and took a generous sip.
He could do this.
There would have been plenty of options for Childe’s fake boyfriend, but the Tsaritsa had chosen him, and whether she knew it or not, he was the best to get the job done.
After all, it wasn’t that fake to him.
He could do this.
Scaramouche shifted on his chair and held his breath.
Childe shot him a curious glance.
He propped his head on his hand and studied him. Then, he leaned in, and blue eyes widened, as he gave the earring a slight tap, before he brushed a ginger strand out of the other’s face.
“I’m glad you kept that on.”
Luckily for them, Childe had his back to Kaeya, because the way the other was staring at him right now made it more than obvious that they weren’t going out.
It was a little satisfying.
He pulled his hand back and placed it on the table between them. Hesitantly, Childe took it. He seemed to have recovered, but there was something in his expression, Scaramouche had never seen before.
Every time Childe had sought his touch that day, there had been something mocking about it. Now, there wasn’t.
He just looked at him, as if Scaramouche was the only person in the room, as if he had completely forgotten about Kaeya Alberich.
After an eternity, the familiar grin returned, but the eyes resting on him were still serious. All of a sudden, nothing felt fake about the fingers playing with his own.
Fuck.
Scaramouche felt like screaming. He had no idea how many times he had turned around already, trying to find a position that allowed him to finally get some rest.
It was pointless.
His mind was wide awake, and the blinds that just wouldn’t shut, letting the faint light of dawn disrupt the darkness, the unfamiliar smell of the wood all around him, and the guy peacefully sleeping next to him didn’t particularly help him calm down.
He had even started to read a short story but gave up after a few lines. The light from outside annoyed him, but it wasn’t bright enough to recognize the letters without effort.
Scaramouche sighed and looked to his right.
Childe was buried beneath the blanket, the messy ginger hair the only thing giving him away. He was unexpectedly quiet, hardly moved in his sleep, but one of the few times he had, Scaramouche had caught a sparkle in the faint light.
Childe’s earring was the second thing he had noticed when the other had joined the Fatui. Right after his eyes.
Back then, he hadn’t been sure what to make of it. It had struck him as odd that someone as bold as Childe chose to wear such a delicate piece of jewelry, but before he had known it, his eyes had started to search for it whenever Childe was around him. It suited him, and as much as the situation freaked him out, there was something strangely reassuring about it.
However, it didn’t change anything about the fact that he wasn’t able to sleep.
With a sigh, Scaramouche got up and headed to the small balcony. He cast a last glance at Childe, before he stepped out and into the warm night.
The lively streets had become quiet, and an almost ghostly silence lingered over the town.
He leaned on the railing and looked down at the back alley.
He didn’t remember a single assignment that had upset him like this one, not even his first one as a member of the Fatui. He had been nervous, but most of all excited, thrilled about the task at hand. Now, he was just a mess, and he hated himself for it.
He was a professional, one of the best among the Fatui. He worked meticulously and carried out his assignments with an efficiency others could only dream about. No matter the job, he just did it, relying on his innate ability to shut himself off from everything else and just focus. Others called it emotionless, to him it meant skilled.
Yet, he wasn’t able to do it with Childe.
It had been hard enough to avoid him and ignore everything the other so annoyingly provoked in him back in Snezhnaya, but possible. He had done it for a long time already.
However, when Childe was that close, his hands casually touched him, and his eyes slightly widened whenever he looked at him, it was an entirely different matter altogether.
“Lovely night, right?”
Scaramouche startled and looked up in the direction of the unfamiliar voice.
Kaeya Alberich.
Across the alley, the Cavalry Captain was bent over a balcony, studying him with the same smirk he had witnessed at the tavern. It awfully reminded him of someone.
So, he really lived there.
At the lack of an answer, Kaeya tried again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Can’t sleep, is all.”
Kaeya shifted, and his long hair fell over his shoulder.
“Trouble with the boyfriend?”
Scaramouche frowned.
They had only exchanged a few words, but Kaeya already started to piss him off.
“Trouble with his sleeping habits. After all these years, I still want to punch him for moving around so much.”
Kaeya laughed.
“If the tavern wasn’t closed already, I’d keep you company.”
He shot him another grin and crossed his arms on the railing, all the while his one eye was focused on him, and Scaramouche couldn’t help but wonder whether Kaeya Alberich was really flirting with him or just wanted to test him. Maybe both.
Under other circumstances, he might have considered finding out, but most likely, cheating on his boyfriend with the Cavalry Captian of Mondstadt wouldn’t have made their fake relationship more credible.
Scaramouche pushed himself off the railing.
“Thanks, but there’s no need.”
He turned around and cast Kaeya Alberich a last glance.
“Good night.”
“Good night. And see you around.”
“Kaeya Alberich hit on you?”
Childe dried his hair on a towel, and Scaramouche tried very hard to focus on the illustration on the book cover.
“He was suspicious, probably.”
“He’s the Cavalry Captain, it’s his job to suspect anyone stepping through the gates of Mondstadt. Still, how very cocky of him to flirt with you with me around.”
Scaramouche shrugged and put the book down.
Childe had tossed the towel away and was just rummaging through his bag in search of a shirt.
Couldn’t he have decided on one before he had taken a shower?
“So, what do you want to do today?”
Scaramouche shrugged again, perfectly aware that Childe wasn’t able to see it.
Childe kept going through his clothes, the muscles on his scarred back flexing with every movement.
In the end, he decided on a black shirt, and Scaramouche silently cursed him.
The usual gray attire looked good on Childe, blue suited him well, but black was perfection. The dark color accentuated his ginger hair and gave his blue eyes new depths, hues that otherwise were hidden.
Childe turned around at him, still buttoning up his shirt. He left the one at the top open.
“Let’s decide over breakfast.”
They left their room and went to a small restaurant just next to the inn.
Over juice, Childe smiled at him.
“We could go sightseeing. Maybe, we run into some Mondstadt celebrities.”
Scaramouche just nodded and focused on his food again.
“It’s nice to see you without your hat.”
His knife slipped.
Where had that come from?
He looked up from his egg and into these damn blue that had so many shades he wondered how he had ever thought of them as just blue.
“It’s nice you decided to properly wear your shirt for a change.”
Childe looked down at himself, as if he had no idea what he was wearing.
A couple sat down at the table next to them.
“It suits you.”
Childe stared at him.
“Black looks great on you.”
He flinched at his own words. He had never planned on saying that out loud, but they were supposed to look like a couple. He might as well just speak the truth. It made things more credible, or so he told himself.
Childe’s smile came back, but he kept quiet. He just kept studying him with that same look from the night before, and something inside Scaramouche twisted.
They spent the day in town, visiting the library, the cathedral, and the many stores aligning the narrow alleys.
All the while, Childe was right by his side, their fingers either entwined, or their arms slung around each other’s backs. First, Scaramouche had wondered whether they weren’t overdoing it, but when the sun was about to set and they walked down the stairs to a side street, Childe’s arm a steady weight on his shoulder, he realized that at some point, he had stopped questioning it.
While he had been freaking out about their sudden closeness, along their hours together, it had become something akin to natural.
And it sucked.
In a few days, they would go back to being the fellow Harbingers they were, and nothing of their fake relationship would remain but for the ghost of Childe’s touch.
He felt Childe’s eyes on him, then fingers brush his shoulder, and Scaramouche prepared himself for the words to come. They didn’t.
Instead, Childe pulled him closer and leaned his head against his.
It felt like a punch to his stomach.
They kept walking like this, his mind accelerating with each step.
Near the fountain, Scaramouche spotted Kaeya Alberich. He was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, and was talking to other Knights of the Favonius: Eula Lawrence and Amber. When he caught sight of him, his grin widened and he lifted his fingers in a small greeting.
The other two turned around at him, but immediately focused on Kaeya again.
“Bastard.”
The grip around his shoulder tightened. This time, Scaramouche wasn’t sure whether it was on purpose.
They crossed de square and went down a flight of stairs. Through the open gate, the sea came into sight. Without a word, they followed the cool breeze to leave the town.
The sun was about to disappear behind the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water. The salty smell grew stronger as they approached the sea. It was familiar, and yet so very strange.
“It’s so different from Snezhnaya.”
Childe’s voice was nothing but a whisper.
The hand on his shoulder wandered lower, fingers closed around his arm just below the hem of his shirt, and Scaramouche suddenly grew hyperaware of the sensation of Childe’s skin against his own.
He really needed to get a hold of himself, but with every minute, with every single time Childe decided to fulfill his role, his resolve crackled.
What if he just followed his instinct?
“But it’s nice.”
It had never failed him.
Scaramouche glanced up. Childe’s gaze was focused on the sea, blue fixing blue.
“It’s nice, being here with you.”
The words rolled off his lips too easily, like always when he had been flirting with him that day, but it was in the way Childe kept looking straight ahead, his fingers motionless on his arm, did Scaramouche realize that Childe wasn’t acting anymore. If he ever had in the first place.
The arm around his shoulder suddenly seemed heavy.
“Don’t say stuff like that.”
Scaramouche freed himself and walked down the shore. He approached the water and looked down at the waves breaking in front of his feet. One after another dissolved in the sand, a constant fight to reach higher and eventually touch grass.
Scaramouche sighed.
He had always been able to rely on his instinct.
Still, it didn’t make any of it any better.
A shadow appeared next to his feet.
Scaramouche looked up at the sky and shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. With another sigh, he let himself fall against Childe.
“You’re the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“I know.”
Childe’s arm enclosed him again.
They just stood there, observing the water grow darker as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon, and the wind disheveled their hair. The air had turned chillier, but Childe still felt warm against him.
How odd that he would think of a fellow Harbinger, so cold and cruel on the battlefield, as warm.
But Childe was, and it felt so damn comforting.
Scaramouche closed his eyes.
Behind them, bells announced the hour, muting every sound around them. He lost count after the fourth toll.
With a deep breath, Scaramouche opened his eyes again.
He was so tired of running.
Next to him, Childe shifted, and he looked up. Blue eyes met his as Childe curiously studied him. Wind ruffled his ginger hair, and between the strands, his earring danced over his neck.
The red crystal was the last thing he took note of when his hand grabbed the black shirt to pull himself up, and Childe’s lips finally found his.
His instinct never failed him.