Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

childe doesn’t exactly know how he ends up here, pushed up against a wall with holes getting pierced through his head by the prettiest deep blue eyes he’s ever seen. his fingers reach for his belt loops, glancing for permission. the boy in front of him doesn’t seem to respond to it, just deepening his glare as he grabs the collar of his shirt. he’s only a few centimeters away from kissing those pretty lips. long, perfect lashes hood over eyes that hold such a fondly familiar anger, one that burns inside his gut and swells in heat.

“ajax,” he snaps, grounding childe back to reality, “are you even listening?”

he blinks at the use of his real name, suddenly aware of his surroundings. they’re in a bathroom, noise and chatter loud outside the door. he’s probably drunk. or high. he doesn’t know. he just knows that he’s definitely at a frat party and he’s definitely hard. knowing scaramouche, he’s probably going to get blue balled in the next few minutes. not that he exactly minds – it won’t be the first time it happens between them.

“not really,” he giggles nervously, which causes scaramouche to roll his eyes. “why are you so close again? please tell me we’re about to suck face right now.”

scaramouche steps back, a tired sigh leaving his lips. “actually, we were about to fight until you suddenly looked like you were about to cum just from me saying i’d fuck you up. probably thought i said i’d fuck you instead.” there’s a disgusted undertone to his words, and he has to hold back a laugh upon realization.

“so… you won’t kiss me?”

there’s a pause, almost like he seriously considers it. “hell no,” scaramouche says, getting close enough for childe to steal a kiss if he just leans in, a scoff tickling his lips instead. “stop spreading rumors that we’re dating.”

he pushes him harshly against the wall as he backs away, causing childe to wince and rub his shoulders. “what? i didn’t—”

“i don’t have time for your bullshit, ajax. i’m serious.” if he didn’t know him any better he would think he was just being an asshole, but the genuine stress in his eyes seems to be clear enough for his fogged up mind.

he leaves before childe can chase his lips, letting out a noise in protest when the shorter man starts walking out. without a pretty face to keep him company, childe decides to go back out to the party. scaramouche has probably gone back to their dorm to study or sleep. whatever keeps him from having to be around intoxicated, horny, loud college students for longer than he intends to. childe doesn’t blame him though, since he’s usually one of them. only during parties, anyway.

as he grabs another drink from the counter, planting himself on the wall in front of the kitchen, he thinks about scaramouche for probably the millionth time today. he finds himself thinking about him a little too often – his purple hair (which had been childe’s favorite color lately), those deep blue eyes that are always glaring at him but never truly hold any hatred towards him, eyeliner he spends way too little time on to look that good without some sort of magic, plump lips that are on the list of things he thinks about a little more often than he’d like to. and archons, his small frame never fails to pin him down until he’s begging for him not to break any of his bones, yet he’s still so gentle, so tender with the way he brushes against him when they walk by each other in their tight kitchen or in their narrow corridors.

in all honesty, childe wants him a little more than he thought he did when they first met.

“uncharacteristic of you to be watching the party instead of being in the middle of one,” kaeya says, pulling him out of his thoughts. he wears an amused smirk on his face. “how’s scara?”

“still a bully as always,” childe chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. it tastes like shit – like all alcohol – but it burns smoothly as it goes down. “how’s albedo?”

he makes a show of grinning happily, swooning at the mention of his lover’s name. “still as hot as ever. i swear, when i say the short guys always have the biggest dicks, venti would agree—”

dramatically, childe retches, covering his cup. “archons, shut the fuck up about that. why are you always so horny? you didn’t even need to bring venti up..”

kaeya just wiggles his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink. he’s probably the only one around who isn’t drinking cheap booze, downing death after noon in his flask like a rich old man. to be fair, whiskey mixed with caprisun and soda is disgusting even to an alcoholic like him.

“so are you going back to your dorm after this?” he asks, his signature “i’ve seen things you wish i didn’t see” smirk dawning his face again. “i saw him drag you into the bathroom.”

childe raises an eyebrow. “what do you think went on in there?”

kaeya shrugs, but the knowing look he gives tells childe that he can probably tell from first glance. “could be anything with scara. he probably tried to choke you out. or you liked it and he noticed.”

“you’re a fucking psychic.”

“oo-kay, apparently it was both.” kaeya kicks himself off of the wall as he takes another big swig from his flask before capping it and putting it in his back pocket (seriously, who the fuck even puts a flask in their back pocket?) “just ask him out if you’re so horny for him. i’m going back to my dorm, albedo will probably get pissed if i’m not back by like, six in the morning.”

as he leaves, childe almost seriously considers going back to his dorm and sneak into his roommate’s bed to surprise him, but realizes he would probably lose a limb and his left eye if he so much as walked in without permission, just like he almost did in the bathroom only a few minutes ago. he hardly knows what he was on about, anyway. rumors? sure, childe thinks he’s hot and wouldn’t mind dating him, but he would never spread rumors about it. besides, boasting about dating someone as pretty as him is a privileged earned only by those who deserve it.

and, from speculation made by firsthand experience, scaramouche probably doesn’t think childe deserves it.

childe: why are u so bothered about the rumors?

childe puts away his phone after sending the text because usually, scaramouche would read it and then ignore it for a good few hours before responding. unless he forgets about it, of course. so naturally, childe is surprised when his phone vibrates in his pocket only seconds after he sends the text, but he answers nonetheless.

“hey—”

“why are you asking me that?” he says on the other line. childe recognizes his tone as the “i’m fucking pissed at you so do what i tell you to do before i beat the shit out of you” voice that he usually uses when childe does something that particularly annoys him.

slightly offended, he scoffs. “because i don’t see why they’re a problem. why do you think i’m the one who spread the rumor, anyway?”

“who else would say that? i know you and all of your friends are immature, but none of them are stupid enough to spread an unnecessary lie.”

“right, because you have no friends. my bad, i forgot you’re an asshole. shouldn’t have asked.”

he can practically feel his glare over the phone. “fine. if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” instead of his usual lighthearted bite, childe senses real anger in his voice.

he rolls his eyes, teasing manner slowly becoming genuine irritation. “you’re really acting like i have any idea who would say this.”

“you’re absolutely fucking insufferable.”

before childe can respond, scaramouche hangs up. fine. it’s not even his problem, anyway.

except he has to sleep somewhere and he doesn’t have his keys. shit.

he could sleep in kaeya and albedo’s couch, but they’re probably screwing and he would rather not have to hear that for the rest of his night. he could ask zhongli for help… yeah, right. the professor he made a move on and blatantly rejected him? no fucking way. he probably blocked childe’s number after what happened, anyway. that incident also means xiao and venti’s place is not an option. to be fair, childe would probably never let a guy who flirted with his dad stay over, either. alright, so he has no more options. no worries, he can just sneak in through scaramouche’s window. a dangerous decision, yes, but unless he wants to wake up in a frat house full of hungover college students, he has no other choice.

before he can convince himself, childe makes his way to scaramouche’s window.

personally, childe isn’t too bothered by the climb to his window. well, yes, it’s three stories up in the dorm building, but he’s done worse as a child in a huge family raised in a fishing village. it’s what happens when he gets there that worries him the most. only two things could happen when he gets into scaramouche’s room. he could either die immediately or get pushed right back out the window, forcing him to climb back up and repeat the process until scaramouche decides to kill him. not exactly the most fun sounding way to go, especially after multiple cups of booze and possibly a few puffs of weed.

nonetheless, he peaks into his room, clutching onto the window sill like his life depends on it (which technically, it does). his roommate is not in his room, but his led lights are still on and there’s clothes carelessly tossed onto his bed. he’s probably in the shower, since he has a class in the morning and probably won’t have any time to shower tomorrow with how long he takes to pick an outfit. luckily, he left his window open, so childe decides to take this opportunity to slip into his room.

when the door opens, he can’t tell whether he regrets coming in at that moment or if he wants to thank the archons for everything they’ve done for him up to this moment.

scaramouche is standing at the door, frozen in shock at childe, who scratches the back of his head nervously. it’s clear he just got out of the shower. his hair is tousled and messy presumably because he had just dried it with a towel and – oh, he’s wearing nothing but childe’s shirt. wait, childe’s shirt? his favorite one that he usually wears when he goes to the gym?

“what the fuck are you doing on my bed?”

childe gulps. he recited an excuse – multiple, actually – in his head on the way here. but now, as he stares at him in one of his shirts and nothing else, hair and skin still damp and those beautiful fucking lips redder than usual, he realizes that all those excuses were left out the window.

“why are you wearing my shirt?” he asks instead, which seems to cause his roommate to flinch.

he doesn’t respond, just stands and stares like an idiot probably because he has no idea how to respond to that.

childe doesn’t know if it’s because of the booze or because he was blue balled earlier, but he does one of the most impulsive things he’s ever done – he steps forward and pushes scaramouche against the wall with one hand, the other hand holding onto his hip as he presses their lips together, expecting him to push away the moment he does it. surprisingly, scaramouche only places his hands at his chest, leaning in impossibly close. he licks his lips open and he feels more than he hears a moan when he practically shoves his tongue down his throat the way he’s wanted to for so long now.

he tastes like the nectar of the gods.

scaramouche’s hands slide downwards, unzipping his jeans and releasing his cock with an efficiency childe would refuse to believe is even humanly possible if he weren’t about to give him a handjob while wearing his shirt. and fuck he just realized he’s not wearing underwear because he can feel him against his leg through the fabric. he knew he was hot, he just didn’t realize he could be this hot.

he’s quickly brought back to reality when his hand starts pumping around his dick, involuntarily bucking into his touch. their lips move sloppily when he picks up the pace. if he were a more sensible man, he would be embarrassed by the sound he lets out when scaramouche bites down on his bottom lip as they part, grip tightening around the tip of his cock.

archons, save him, he just realized scaramouche is free to torment him now.

“did you just whine?” he says, a laugh bubbling in his chest, his breath tickling childe’s neck. “that’s fucking embarrassing.”

he bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough for childe to know that he has to wear a turtleneck or a scarf tomorrow. even if he did bite hard enough to break skin, all his blood has quickly gone south anyway.

their lips meet again, teeth clacking from childe’s eagerness and he would recoil in pain if scaramouche hadn’t chewed on his bottom lip again, this time hard enough for him to bleed, sending fireworks off in his gut as he cums with a moan. his hand doesn’t stop, only speeding up until childe’s lips are open in a silent scream and his hands are beginning to bruise his hips even through the fabric of his shirt before slowing to a stop. scaramouche looks down at his hand, causing childe to laugh weakly when he sees the disgust on his face.

“archons, you’re fucking gross,” he mutters, ducking quickly when childe tries to chase his lips for another kiss.

he pushes childe away and he lands on his bed, walking back to the bathroom to wash his hands. when he comes back, he shoves the man off of his bed, pushing him towards the door.

“seriously? you’ll give me a handjob but won’t let me sleep with you?” he complains, yet allows himself to be forced out of the room.

“then i won’t do it again if it keeps you out of my room,” he huffs once he successfully shoves childe out of the doorway. “now stay the fuck out, asshole.”

when he slams the door closed, childe feels a little bit of his soul leave his body, but he doesn’t mind.

“holy barbatos, you look like shit,” kaeya whistles, taking a sip of his coffee. childe can practically see the split second when he realizes there’s no alcohol in his drink.

“i don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters, rubbing his cheek. there’s a bright right handprint on his face and a turtleneck hastily adjusted to hide most of his neck. kaeya only raises an eyebrow before childe sighs. “i snuck in through his window and he gave me a handjob, then he was pissed in the morning because he was late to class.”

kaeya’s eyebrow raises impossibly further at his explanation. “he gave you a handjob and then he slapped you?” he laughs at that for a beat too long for childe’s ego. “and why exactly does this handjob have to do with him being late?”

childe buries his nose further into his book, whatever book he’s holding. not that he knows what it is nor cares. “because i apparently made him stay up late and he ended up sleeping through his alarm. to be fair, i only lasted like, five minutes.”

kaeya sputters at that. “ five fucking minutes? holy shit, you’re a simp. what even happened? i’m a little curious.”

before childe can tell him off in disgust, albedo joins in from beside him, not bothering to look up from who knows what kind of work he’s doing. “so, he came in from the window. his face gets red every time he thinks about whatever happened last night and he’s obviously not aware of it, so clearly something prompted him to probably make an impulsive move that was enough to be memorable. i assume he’s hiding something under that turtleneck with the way he’s adjusting it constantly. and, if i’m right and scaramouche has any form of fondness or even human attraction, he stayed up thinking about the aforementioned events and is therefore taking out his frustrations on you.”

childe blinks, quite aware that you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“babe, you made him think,” kaeya says in mock surprise. “nice analysis, by the way.”

instead of responding, he just shoves his face in his arms and sighs. “psychology majors,” he mutters, not particularly to anyone.

his cheek still hurts like hell, his head is pounding from the bad decisions made the night prior, and he has a class with probably the only professor he’s embarrassed to show his face to. so obviously, his day is going amazing. it doesn’t help that scaramouche has been ignoring his texts and he’s stuck third wheeling (albeit voluntarily) his least favorite couple on this campus. how is he even going to stop the stupid rumor that they’re dating? all of his friends joke about them dating already and have been for a while, so he doesn’t exactly understand why scaramouche is only worried about this now. the only reason he can think of is that his med student buddies on the other side of campus from the srotc section found out and now they can’t take a joke or something. even if he does stop the rumor from spreading by some miracle, how would he even know? almost everyone he knows is aware that childe just has the hots for his asshole roommate, it’s not like he can tell whether it’s stopped going around or not unless he goes on some sort of… investigation.

a lightbulb metaphorically appears above his head, and kaeya and albedo look at him as if they can practically see it.

childe looks at them with his signature pleading face, used only in the most dire situations. “hey, besties,” he begins, leaning over the table. “can you do me a tiny little favor? please?”

the two of them share a glance, and when albedo shrugs, kaeya finally speaks. “what is it this time?”

“okay, this is going to sound insane, i know.”

“don’t worry. you always sound insane.”

“i need you two to conduct an investigation for me.”

albedo looks up from his work for once, both of them staring at childe with concern painted all over their faces. “have you actually gone insane just for this one boy?”

“look, albedo is a chemistry major, right? scara has a bunch of science classes, which means you have an excuse to be in that building. i just need you guys to… do some digging around there or something.” as crazy as an investigation for something as simple as a rumor sounds, childe is not that stupid. besides, albedo and kaeya are some of the smartest people he knows.

before kaeya even speaks, childe can already tell what he’s about to say. “and how will you pay us?”

“anything,” he says a little too quickly, sipping his drink in embarrassment. “i’ll do your laundry, give you money, pay for drinks, anything.”

again, kaeya glances at albedo, who only shrugs as he neatly packs his things into his bag like a live tetris game. “sure, why not?”

childe lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, clasping his hands together as he almost slams his forehead onto the table. “thank you, man. you are one sexy son of a bitch.”

the two of them leave for their next class, leaving childe to wait for the only srotc class he will ever dislike. today is definitely going to be a long day.

like any normal human being after an almost two hour long lecture in a class where you typically don’t get lectures, childe collapses on the couch the second he’s close enough, groaning loudly into the cushions. he only becomes aware of his roommate’s presence on the couch when he hears him typing away on his laptop, uninterested in childe’s apparent distress. like a worm, he crawls from where he is on to couch to where scaramouche is curled up, causing him to scoot further away from him as he squirms.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he says, not bothering to look up from his work.

“why were you wearing my shirt?” … is what he wants to say, but he knows scaramouche would just ignore him and leave. anything he has no intention of saying usually stays unsaid until he decides to say it. instead, he says something that does less of a good job at scaring him away.

“screaming.”

scaramouche hums in understanding, staying silent for a while before responding. “you just had major zhongli, right?”

instantly, childe pushes himself up, quickly sitting in front of him. “yes! holy shit, i want to switch classes so bad but he’s actually such a nice person and he might feel bad if i suddenly stopped showing up especially since he knows it used to be my favorite class—”

“childe, you wanted to suck his dick and he blocked your number and told his son.”

when childe doesn’t respond, scaramouche shuts his laptop. “i want ramen for dinner,” he says as he gets up to walk to his room.

“yes sir,” childe says sternly, standing at attention and saluting until he closes the door behind him.

and, for some odd reason, childe does what he’s told and makes instant ramen because scaramouche doesn’t like his snezhnayan style cooking (who doesn’t like his cooking?). he walks out of the room before he can even call him over, hair mussed up and eyeliner haphazardly wiped off probably by his own pillows.

“must’ve either been one hell of a nap or someone snuck in and railed you,” childe chuckles, sliding his cup over on his side of the kitchen counter.

scaramouche glares at him for that comment, getting comfortable on the kitchen stool long enough for childe to sit on the one next to him. one more look at him is enough to make him sigh, leaving to get the makeup wipes in the bathroom. he swivels his stool towards his own, which scaramouche doesn’t oppose against, just sitting with his legs under him with a tired look on his face.

“what happened?” childe asks as he wipes off the smudged eyeliner.

he could swear that scaramouche sniffles, brushing it off as a deep breath. “nothing.”

the two of them sit in silence as childe finishes wiping off the rest of his makeup. he starts to get up to throw away the towel before scaramouche grabs his collar, pulling him in for when he expects is a kiss. instead, he hesitates, panic clear through his harsh scowl, before he lets go and takes his bowl of ramen as he stands and leaves.

“sorry, i’m just tired.”

the sound of the door thudding loudly echoes more in childe’s mind than it actually does as a sound.

Chapter Text

the next two weeks of childe’s life feel abnormally dull. kaeya and albedo are surprisingly busying themselves on their current investigation, which leaves childe with more time to stay in his shared dorm room. the problem is, scaramouche has been avoiding him, sneaking out while childe isn’t looking to go to his classes (well, does just busy himself whenever he knows he’s supposed to start going to class, so it’s entirely his fault), so even staying home has been painfully boring.

the second childe considers going off to some random party, his roommate comes home uncharacteristically late. scaramouche rarely comes home late, but when he does, he’s usually pissed off. it usually comes with a text or call that he’ll be home late so that childe can pack his portion of dinner away before the flies get to it. but since he’s being ignored, there hasn’t been a text nor a call in two weeks. instead, he just comes in, hesitating when he makes eye contact with childe, who only stares at him like a cat whose owner had just come home after a long vacation.

“are you going to eat?” he asks, leaning his chin on the armrest of their couch. he didn’t expect a response, so when he hears his voice, it startles him a bit.

“no. i just had dinner with someone.”

childe looks up at him with a raised eyebrow, but scaramouche averts his gaze. “dinner? with who?”

he follows him into his room, watching the way his ears turn bright red with heat. “none of your business.”

childe huffs at that. “who is he? i hope you remember we agreed to no sex in here. well, excluding us, yes, but—”

“ her name is mona,” he corrects, pushing childe’s chest as he steps into the room. “and no, i will not be bringing her in here to have sex because we aren’t even dating yet.”

“yet?” the taller man gawks in surprise, freezing in place. “i thought you were gay!”

scaramouche just raises an eyebrow. “i never said i was into guys.”

“well, you’ve seen and touched my dick enough for me to at least know that you are, in fact, attracted to men.”

his roommate rolls his eyes at that. “you don't know anything.” his tone is more challenging than anything, almost like he’s expecting childe to prove him wrong.

if it’s a challenge, then he’ll take it.

“i know more than some girl you just met.”

scaramouche glares at him, and childe would have mistaken it as genuine hatred if he weren’t looking him in the eyes. the intense gaze he holds against him almost feels like a glare, except his eyes don’t hold the same anger they did when he was pushed against the bathroom stall. it’s hot, being regarded by scaramouche with about the same respect that a dead fly gets without feeling the intention to offend or provoke. in fact, quite the opposite. the way that scaramouche allows childe to step into his room without rejection already proves his speculation to be correct, taking the way he inches toward his bed as an invitation.

“prove it then,” he sneers, and it feels like a middle finger getting shoved in his face.

with the same petty manner, childe steps closer to scaramouche. he hooks his fingers into the belt hoops on his hips and tugs gently, watching him for permission, which is granted when the boy in front of him allows himself to be pulled closer. he takes the opportunity to kiss him hard, lips searing, movements rough and harsh and earning a quiet whine from his roommate. he only allows himself a brief moment of pleasure from the compliance before pushing him gently, causing scaramouche to sit on the edge of his bed as childe leans over him.

“fuck you,” scaramouche grits through his teeth, glaring up at childe as he cranes his neck upward.

“not today, maybe i’ll do that tomorrow,” he says with a teasing laugh, receiving a groan in response.

he hovers over his neck, brushing his lips against the spot where his neck meets his shoulder before sucking a hickey onto it, biting down harshly to make sure it doesn’t fade away anytime soon as payback for the mark on his own neck (which he’s currently still trying to hide under his turtleneck). once he decides he’s done, he moves down between his thighs, being reminded of the size difference between them. scaramouche’s thighs are barely long enough to wrap around his head if he tried to – as long as he can, childe has no complaints. he kisses along one of his thighs and trails his fingers along the other, creeping under his shorts and causing him to shudder. in a moment of impatience, scaramouche lifts his hips, and childe has no idea why he lets himself follow along, tugging his shorts off and letting them drop on the ground. the sight before him shocks him more than he would admit.

he had always been aware that his roommate preferred wearing panties ever since he accused him of being a panty stealing pervert when they first started living together only to find out that the underwear he found in the bathroom’s owner was actually scaramouche himself. what childe wasn't aware of was the fact that he wore lingerie, too. thin black lace fabric hugs his hips perfectly, a pattern of flowers being the only thing covering his dick. the rest is thin and transparent, making it easy to see his smooth, pretty skin. it makes him wonder whether he’s wearing the top piece, too.

“never seen a guy in a thong before?” he says jokingly, then scoffs in surprise when childe goes into an awed silence.

“you’re really pretty,” he says after he allows himself to admire what’s in front of him for another few seconds.

scaramouche huffs, averting his gaze, which childe takes as a cue to come back to reality, reluctantly taking his shaft out of the fabric and into his hand. he reacts to the slightest touch, twitching and squirming whenever childe happens to touch his thighs or his belly in the wrong places (which he only later learns is because he’s ticklish).

“you’re not going to take off your glasses?”

“no,” childe quickly answers, as if it’s obvious, "who knows, maybe you’re into that.”

“you’re fucking stupid, that’s going to be hard to clean— ah! ”

childe takes him into his mouth, effortlessly taking him down to the base as his thighs lock in place around his head. he smirks (mentally, at least) when he looks up at scaramouche, already debauched over a single action. he allows him to adjust, legs trembling and hips struggling to stay still as he swallows around him. he only stills for a moment before he pulls back until only the tip stays between his lips, swiftly sinking back down and enjoying the way scaramouche almost sobs.

the two of them freeze when his phone rings beside him on the bed. childe expects him to ignore it, but he tangles a hand in his hair, mouthing a silent apology before answering the phone.

“hey, mona,” scaramouche says, voice shaky and weak. he has to clear his throat before he can speak again.

childe doesn’t know what he’s talking about nor does he care – all the words go into one ear and fly out the other. all he knows is that he’s on the phone with the girl he just had dinner with and still answered it despite getting head from his roommate. a rational person would leave and pretend like nothing happened. childe, on the other hand, chooses to keep going. he pulls back again to give the tip more attention, using his hand to jerk off the rest of his dick.

“yeah, thanks for dinner—” scaramouche gasps sharply, slapping a hand over his mouth before he makes a sound he’ll regret. “s-sorry, my roommate is being a piece of shit. um, why are you calling me?”

he ignores the insult, lapping his tongue along the side of his shaft before taking all of it down to the base again, savoring the way his voice trembles as he does.

“i’ll, um—” he gulps down a moan, “i’ll work on it tomorrow.”

his grip in childe's hair tightens, probably as a warning or a request to slow down. either way, he ignores this as well, keeping his moans quiet as he bobs quickly. the slick, lewd sounds are so loud that he’s surprised the girl on the phone hasn’t picked up on it yet – not that he would care.

“okay, i have to go. um, goodnight.” scaramouche hangs up quickly, throwing his phone behind him on the bed. “you’re a fucking asshole,” he rasps, although he doesn’t sound very angry now that he’s free to make all the sounds he wants.

his movements are frantic, and childe figures he’s probably unaware that the hand in his hair is responsible for almost all of his movements. he lets his jaw go slack as scaramouche fucks his throat, whining and cursing as his eyes struggle to stay open. childe’s free hand ends up unzipping his own pants to stroke his own cock, barely aware of the sounds coming out of his own mouth. his glasses are crooked and have slipped onto the tip of his nose, strands of hair sticking to his forehead, and he guesses there’s spit and precum dripping down his chin. scaramouche doesn’t look any better, though. his bottom lip is red and raw from him biting and chewing on it, face flushed bright red, eyes teary and fluttering as he forces himself to keep his eyelids open.

in this exact moment, childe thanks the archons for the prior sequence of events and every decision that has led up to this moment.

“fuck— ajax, ” he moans, and it’s enough to make him cum, hand stilling around his cock. he’s probably going to have to change into some new clothes after this, but he leaves that problem to future childe who doesn’t have scaramouche's dick down his throat trying to chase his own orgasm.

his hips stop moving once he grows tired, and childe takes it as an opportunity to take control again. scaramouche lets out a shrill whine when childe pulls away, jerking him off swiftly. it only takes a few more strokes before his thighs wrap around childe's head again, crying out as he spills out onto his face, white beads landing on his cheeks and glasses.

the two of them take a moment to catch their breath, slowly coming down from their highs. childe traces shapes on his leg with his clean hand, which scaramouche surprisingly doesn’t mind. or maybe he’s just too wrecked to do anything about it. once his heart rate becomes steady, childe takes off his glasses, grimacing when he sees his cum start to dry on the lenses.

“i told you,” scaramouche mutters, “it’s going to be hard to clean.”

childe laughs, pressing kisses along his thigh. “i’m not complaining.” he laughs again when his roommate cringes in disgust.

“i need a shower,” he groans, pushing himself off of the bed with some difficulty.

the taller male springs up and follows him. “i’ll go with you,” he offers.

scaramouche raises an eyebrow at him. “you mean like, you’ll get in the shower with me? you want to take a shower with me?” childe nods, and scaramouche narrows his eyes at him. “no,” he says finally, pushing childe away as he walks to the bathroom.

childe doesn’t follow, quickly realizing that staying put was a good idea when he notices scaramouche pulling off his crop top, forgetting to close the door behind him. he gets a glimpse of the top piece of his lingerie, a black laced bra with a floral pattern matching the one on his thong. childe would have gotten hard all over again if scaramouche didn’t glare at him through the mirror, slamming the door shut and leaving childe to sulk as he walks back to his room.

the next morning is significantly better than the mornings before. childe only has archery practice on fridays, but with their shortage of arrows (thanks to childe’s horrible aim and terrible strength control), the coach decided to cancel practice they’re supplied with more. that leaves childe with three days off and an insane amount of free time.

what better way to spend all that free time than doing things a middle aged white woman from the first season of the hit tv show “you” would do?

once he had thoroughly cleaned every surface of every room except scaramouche’s (he gets very grumpy and defensive when someone goes through his room), it had already become dark out. his roommate had to stay out late doing more work since his last class of the day had only ended at five in the afternoon, so childe is free to do whatever he wants. not that the presence of his small, short tempered, very hot and distracting roommate has ever stopped him from doing whatever he wants. it just means that he can go be an irresponsible adult without having scaramouche judge him live about his bad decisions.

kaeya joins him on his walk to another stupid frat party. apparently, even though the host is beidou, it’s supposed to be pretty calm since it’s to help people in business make connections and to give artists more publicity. you know, like a rich people party. her girlfriend ningguang is there, which means that even the people who hate parties will be there. the only thing stopping albedo from joining them is the amount of people he would have to deal with if he did tag along and the possibility of those people getting drunk and being annoying.

“wow, this looks like a wedding after party, what the hell?” kaeya chuckles.

people childe swears would never come to a party if someone mentioned alcohol are here, chattering with drinks in hand. not that he minds. he’s only here because he doesn’t want to be inside all day.

beidou strides toward them with a can of whiteclaw in her grip, which is probably the strongest alcohol in this room since beidou likes to mix whiskey in absolutely anything.

“oh nice, you two are here! can i introduce you to a friend?” she asks, clapping kaeya’s shoulder like the friend she’s referring to is the drink she’s currently clutching. “i told him that i knew a ginger and he got curious. probably thought i was talking about ed sheeran or something.”

childe chooses to ignore that last part. “sure, who is he?”

beidou grins before turning around towards the direction she had come from. “kaz! he’s over here!”

the man that responds does not look like someone he expects to be friends with beidou. then again, she is dating ningguang, so it can’t be that surprising. he has white hair, a streak of bright red sticking out, a pair of strangely gentle eyes the same shade as the streak of strikingly red hair. there’s an elegance in his gaze and the way he holds himself, similar to venti (somehow that boy still carries himself with an elegance that pales in contrast to how extremely annoying he can be) and even jean.

“boys, this is kazuha. kazuha, this is kaeya and childe,” she announces, hands triumphantly placed on her hips as if she were proud that she remembered their names correctly. “now, you three talk, i think i’ll go check if i’m getting laid tonight.”

“only a few minutes since the party started and she’s already this annoying,” kaeya sighs, taking a sip from his flask which had somehow teleported into his.

“eh, you get used to it.” kazuha smiles before bowing his head a bit in greeting, and childe realizes that he’s a little cute. just a little. “it’s nice to meet you two.”

“she said you were curious about me?” childe asks, sensing the amusement in kaeya’s gaze even without having to look at his face.

kazuha nods. “i’m sorry if this is a bit of a personal question but you’re the one everyone thinks is dating scaramouche, right?”

childe and kaeya spare each other a glance. “yeah, everyone’s been saying that lately.”

“based on that answer i assume you’re not willing to confirm nor deny whether you’re dating or not.” his gaze becomes harsher, like he’s hiding a grin behind those eyes. “but you’re his type, clearly. smart, reliable, handsome.”

childe raises an eyebrow. “and how do you know that?”

kazuha smiles, and it almost feels condescending. pitiful. “because he’s my ex.”

childe almost forgets about kaeya’s presence for a moment (how the hell is he not uncomfortable?), the air between them tense and crackling from kazuha’s less than subtle sneer and childe’s plastic smile.

“don’t let him treat you like trash, childe. you’re not so bad looking. it would suck if he put tears in those beautiful eyes of yours.” he walks away with a smile that makes childe’s tongue taste sour.

“i can’t tell if he’s flirting or he’s trying to freak you out on purpose,” kaeya says with a laugh.

“whatever it was, i hated it.”

the two of them stand in silence for a moment, mostly because childe can’t tell whether to laugh or be uncomfortable

“well, we got our scaramouche lore for the day and i’m starting to think that this place is actually a rich people party,” kaeya begins, tugging at childe’s arm. “let’s get a drink at my brother’s bar. he’s got real alcohol.”

childe wakes up the next morning with his head pounding, stomach making grotesque noises, and a blanket haphazardly tossed over him. he stretches out his arms, expecting to hit the arm of the couch and instead hearing a familiar voice curse loudly when his hands hit something softer.

“don’t push me off, asshole!” scaramouche snaps, clinging onto the backrest of the couch similar to a cat when it falls off. he had been perched on the arm of the couch (due to a weird quirk of his where he finds more comfort with typically uncomfortable spots and positions) and had lost balance when childe accidentally pushed his thigh.

“good morning to you, too.”

“it’s three in the afternoon.” he types away – probably working on his project with “mona” – once he gets back onto the couch (next to childe this time so he doesn’t fall again). “mind telling me what caused you to drink outside of campus for once? i thought you didn’t want your parents to catch you or some bullshit like that. as if they’d catch you at a bar so far away from snezhnaya.”

“shitty party,” he groans, moving to rest his head in scaramouche’s lap. to his surprise, he doesn’t react to it, even moving his laptop to the other thigh for him.

“maybe you just need to stop going to parties,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

childe just scoffs. “yeah, i think i just might.”

the two of them go silent long enough for childe to reach for the water on the counter. a comfortable silence, rare between the two of them because of their constant bickering and banter. childe almost dozes off again before his roommate speaks.

“why do you go to parties, anyway? you don’t even do shit, you just drink a little. that’s what kaeya told me at least,” he says as he closes his laptop, stretching his back before his hands land in childe’s hair.

he ponders for a moment. he really has no reason, and he doesn’t really even like to drink that much. alcohol tastes horrible and the hangovers in the morning feel even worse. he would know, he’s going through one right now.

childe shrugs, closing his eyes as he speaks. “just to see different people, you know? it’s hard to find just walking around campus when people are going to class or working or studying. in a party, while everyone is either drunk or high, that’s when people are interesting. when they’re either on the verge of punching you in the gut or they’re about to cuss you out in the middle of a crowd.”

scaramouche chuckles.”so you judge people based on whether they would fight you or not?”

“close. my attraction or interest in a person is based on whether they could beat my ass or if i’d beat theirs.”

“and which category do i fit into?”

“you’re so hot, you have no idea. like, i’m in love with you.”

the words feel so genuine to childe and the way scaramouche just laughs is so painfully humiliating to the little man named “ego” living in his chest that it causes him to bang on his ribcage.

“you’re right,” he says between giggles, “i could do more than just beat your ass.”

archons, please do more than just beat my ass. “no objections here.”

the fingers tangled in his hair feel gentle, strangely intimate in the way they scratch his scalp and smooth over the strands. childe almost forgets about his hangover at the feeling, a pleased sigh escaping his lips. it’s strange how natural it feels whenever the two of them show affection. they bicker and bicker, but when they don’t, he finds that scaramouche’s touch is similar to the touch he feels in his fantasies. the way he can go from sending bruising glares with a violence that childe has never seen before to a loving brush of his fingers sends him into a frenzy of emotions, unpacking questions childe doesn’t feel ready to answer.

“don’t let him treat you like trash, childe.”

kazuha’s words scare him. as sweet as his roommate is, he could just be misinterpreting his joking hostility for genuine toxicity.

right…?

it’s unfair that he’s hiding things from him. he had a toxic ex who talks to childe like a fucking creep, and he goes to the same college as the two of them. it would have been nice to have a warning, or even for scaramouche to simply talk about his past a little more.

“who is kazuha?” childe blurts out loud as he sits up, and his ego isn’t the one pounding at his chest this time.

the silence becomes uncomfortable as scaramouche stares at him.

“what the fuck?”

“sorry if that’s—”

“ sorry? ” he scoffs, standing up in front of childe. “how the fuck do you even know about him? you have no right to ask me about that. we’re just fucking roommates. you don’t get to ask me shit like that.”

the venom that seeps out of his lips as he speaks is less painful than the way his eyes look, eyes wet with tears that he refuses to let out. childe wishes he could go back a few seconds, back to before he asked such a stupid question. now, it seems like the question had opened an old wound and he’s desperately trying to stop it from bleeding.

scaramouche grabs his phone and walks out the door, slamming it behind him. childe could easily chase him, apologize and try to convince him to stay, but how could he when he had just asked him something he had no right to ask? there’s no reason for scaramouche to tell him anything he doesn’t want to because—

“we’re just fucking roommates.”

Chapter Text

childe doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do.

obviously, he has to apologize. he knows that much, he’s not an asshole. but he can’t exactly apologize when scaramouche left to archons know where and he isn’t answering any of his calls or texts. not that childe is surprised. he wouldn’t answer either if he were that pissed but that doesn’t stop him from being worried. what if he doesn’t come back? what if he does come back but only to get his stuff and move out?

and what if he does come back, childe apologizes, and it works? what would they do after that? would everything even be the same now that he’s tried to break a boundary they both agreed not to touch ever since day one?

childe doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel that gentle brush of his fingers playing with his hair ever again.

he feels like a little boy again. small, scared, and so, so young. when he had happened to be separated from his family for what felt like years to him as a kid. so frail and pathetic, except this time he doesn’t have the guts to force himself to fight and do something about it. he doesn’t even have the guts to pick himself up off of their stupid fucking couch.

(“did you really buy a huge fucking couch instead of just.. buying a loveseat like a normal person?” scaramouche says incredulously.

childe, unable to admit the fact that he forgot it would only ever be the two of them in their dorm, huffs stubbornly. “first of all, if i get a ‘loveseat’ then we would have to sit together on something called a loveseat. second, i’m not exactly a normal person. i’m actually brocken.”

scaramouche rolls his eyes and laughs, one of the first times he’s heard anything remotely emotional come out of his mouth. it sounds oddly fond considering the fact that they’ve only been living together for a week.

“sure, edgelord twitter user,” he says, sitting on their new couch. “whatever you say.”)

childe had never woken up to answer a doorbell so fast.

“holy shit, where the fuck were you? i was so worried—”

“he went to diluc’s tavern,” a voice that isn’t scaramouche says. “i’m mona. you’ve probably heard of me…” she looks up at him with a disgusted gaze.

suddenly, he doesn’t feel so tall.

he notices his roommate hanging on her back, flushed and passed out. what he’s more surprised by is the fact that mona seems to have no problem carrying him despite being a few inches shorter, arms hooked under his knees like it’s not the first time she’s had to carry him.

“venti called me,” she continues, the look of revolt still on her face as she invites herself inside, dropping him like a sack of rice on the couch. “he went on some drunk tangent and all i understood was ‘purple guy’ and ‘angry’ and long story short, i’m here to drop him off.”

he blinks in confusion, mostly at the fact that she knew venti was talking about scaramouche when he said the words “purple guy” and “angry”, partly because she called him scara – well, he’s not really surprised now that he thinks about it since they’re close enough to even have dinner together, so naturally he would have allowed her to call him by his nickname (he’s not jealous. he’s not.) – and maybe because she walked in uninvited as if she didn’t give a single shit about whether childe would let her in or not.

he can see why scaramouche gets along with her (he’s literally not jealous).

“uh,” he finally manages, sounding more confused than he thought he was, “why was he at the tavern?”

mona glances at him, then at scaramouche, and sighs as she sits on the couch next to where he’s laying. childe takes it as a hint that she’ll be here longer than he expected. “first, what happened earlier?”

“uhh..”

“his shitty fucking ex was there so i initially assumed it was because he was pissed about him, but i think he was already drinking before they even talked to each other, and he only drinks when he’s upset. that means that something happened before he got there, and i’m sure as hell it has to do with you now that i can tell you cried. see, your eyes are puffy and your nose is runny. it’s disgusting, please wipe it. did you ask about kazuha or something? i’m saying his name because i’m pretty sure you did.”

archons, why does everyone psychoanalyze him so much?

“i did,” childe says once he finishes blowing snot out of his nose. “but only because kazuha talked to me at beidou’s party and i got curious.”

mona stares at him incredulously. “you asked scara about one of his exes? are you insane?”

“i know, i’m stupid, it just slipped out!” childe flops backwards into the cushions, muttering as he speaks. “i’ll apologize once he wakes up.”

mona scoffs. “good luck with that. if he really likes you, he’ll probably only consider not killing you before moving out.”

he frowns, but he figures she’s just being dramatic. probably. hopefully. “how do you know him, anyway?”

she glances down at scaramouche, wrinkling her nose when she realizes he’s drooling. “i met him in middle school. i was obsessed with astrology and he had the audacity to tell me that astrology isn’t real. but i was the one who took care of him after kazuha. he’s like a brother to me, in a sense.” (honestly, childe is just relieved that they aren’t dating or anything.)

childe feels a bit of shame when he brings up his next question. “so… what happened with kazuha?”

mona looks down, fidgeting with her hands. the silence feels heavy, slowly growing worse and worse until childe starts to regret even asking in the first place.

“scara loved him,” she says in a soft tone. “he just didn’t think he was ready to let kazuha fall in love, too. he didn’t think he deserved it. you want to know the whole story? ask him once he’s ready to talk.”

childe glances at scaramouche, who curls up even more next to him. he has the urge to brush his hair out of his face and comfort him, but he doesn’t feel like he has the right to. not yet. he still has to apologize.

“thanks for bringing him home.”

she looks up at him, making eye contact for a brief moment. he can feel her studying him silently, gaze intimidatingly similar to scaramouche’s.

“if i have to drop him off again and i find out it’s your fault,” she says as she begins to leave, “i’ll make sure he moves out the next day.”

childe swallows nervously, nodding as she leaves him and his roommate alone on the couch.

scaramouche isn’t on the couch anymore by the time childe leaves his room. he figures it’s because he’s usually headed to class at this time, although he’s surprised he even had the motivation to get up after drinking the other night. it’s probably because he remembers most of last night and would rather have his hangover during class than near childe.

he can’t exactly blame him for that.

childe hopes that mona is in class with him right now, or they’re at least talking about what happened. actually, screw that. he hopes that she hasn’t said anything, that she’s keeping him calm and making sure he’s okay. she’s the only thing keeping scaramouche from ghosting him completely.

so you can imagine childe’s surprise when scaramouche comes home early, stiff as a board and pale in the face as if he’s about to do something that will surely kill him.

“uh—”

“i’m really sorry,” he blurts, face going from petrified white to a deeply flustered red.

childe blinks in confusion, taking a moment to take in the fact that his roommate, scaramouche just apologized to him for something he’s pretty sure is his fault.

“no, i should be apologizing, you didn’t overreact—”

“shut the fuck up for a second,” he interrupts again, sitting next to him on their couch which childe now realizes is much larger than it should be for just two people.

“although you are an asshole for breaking one simple rule i gave you, i didn’t have to react like that. and…” his voice becomes faint as he trails off, struggling to look at childe as he waits patiently. “i’ve been giving you mixed signals and that’s not fair, so i’m sorry. i trust you with almost everything i have, i just haven’t gotten used to it, really.”

childe looks at him in awe, still shocked that he just managed to apologize for the first time since they’ve met.

“sorry i asked about your ex,” he says, laying the words down like a carpet. he’s suddenly extremely aware of how petty this situation is. “no wait, like, i’m genuinely sorry about that, but this problem literally feels so stupid now that i think about it.”

“no fucking shit, why do you think i apologized?” scaramouche says through a laugh. “but… if you still want to know, i’m okay with talking about it.”

“sure, if you want.” childe really is just curious, but he doesn’t want to make it obvious, so this response is good enough.

scaramouche pulls his legs to his chest, leaning his chin against his knees. “surprisingly, i was a depressed and edgy teenager at some point. i was pretty sure my mother would kill me if i told her i’m gay, especially since she was in a bad place ever since my aunt passed. so instead of dealing with it, i just… left a note and ran away. even now, i’m just too scared to face them again.” he inhales shakily, like he considers telling childe more, then decides not to.

“after that, i moved in with a… family friend, i guess. anyway, in high school i met kazuha. i let him hang out with mona and i.” he looks at childe and hesitates before he talks again. “long story short, i loved him and i didn’t feel like it was fair to let him love me back, so i said some really fucked up bullshit because i thought it would get him to keep his distance. i didn’t think… he would ever talk to you. i’m sorry.”

childe rolls his eyes despite wrapping a comforting arm around him. “stop apologizing, it’s not your fault that i’m so hot your ex couldn’t control himself.”

scaramouche looks at him with furrowed brows, but the gaze in his eyes feels strangely fond. “you’re so fucking annoying.”

he grins triumphantly. “as long as it makes you feel better, i don’t mind.”

the smaller male shakes his head, and childe swears he can feel him lean into his side, even if it was just a little bit.

never, in all of childe’s life, has he ever been so confused.

first of all, he woke up in scara’s bed with no scara. second, now that he’s actually allowed to fuck him, sleep with him, and shower with him, scara still refuses to treat him as anything more than a friend. at least he’s gone from calling this… “relationship” from roommates to friends, so it’s better than nothing. third, when he calls kaeya to cancel their whole “investigation”, he still insists that he pays for their drinks as compensation “for the shit they’ve been through.” of course, childe is extremely fucking rich and doesn’t mind paying for the drinks anyway.

he never expected a post-resolved situation to feel more hectic and rushed than when the situation was still a problem.

“welcome home,” childe says automatically when he hears the door open. when he doesn’t hear a response, he looks up and sees his roommate shove his bag by the door and angrily walk over to him, tugging on his arm as he drags him to his bedroom.

“woah, looks like today was a bad day,” he hums, sitting on scaramouche’s bed and forcing him to slow down by pulling him close. “you okay?”

“i’m fine,” he says with a sigh, pressing their foreheads together. childe studies his face closely – whether out of concern or because he just thinks he’s pretty, he has no idea. “i just feel… gross.”

he cups his face to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “are you sure you don’t need to talk about it?”

scaramouche closes his eyes, holding onto his hips like he’ll lose him if he lets go. childe knows what’s wrong – he’s watched him pick himself apart and put himself back together so many times that he could probably replicate it. they’ve lived together long enough for childe to watch as scaramouche endlessly searches for a way to be comfortable with himself. even now, he still fails to.

“it’s okay, we can do this another time—”

“i need you,” he blurts, louder than he expected to be. “please. i’ll be okay.”

childe studies his face, caressing his cheek with his thumb comfortingly. “alright. therapy is expensive, but sex is free, so at least you know your budget.”

scaramouche chuckles as he leans in for another kiss, reassuring and thankful, leaving a fuzzy and embarrassingly affectionate warmth on his lips even after he pulls away. with a foreign but not unknown gentleness, he helps childe tug off his shirt, highly contrasting the way childe’s hips grind against his torso shamelessly.

“let me know whenever you need me to stop.” childe says quietly before he falls down onto his back.

“i should be telling you that,” he hums, tugging his sweatpants off for him.

skin glides across skin, the heat between them growing hotter and hotter as they indulge in each other. somewhere along the way, childe’s mind wanders in the way scaramouche entangles their fingers. he wonders why the words that fog up the clarity of his mind feel so warm, more blissful than the steady pound of scaramouche’s hips. they have done this before – enough to know what makes the other lose focus of the one in front of them, to be able to get under each other’s skin without even having to think about it – but it has never been intimate enough to make his dear partner let tears fall without any regret. gently, childe brings a hand up to scaramouche’s cheek, struggling to steady his breathing as he wipes away the tears from his porcelain skin. the action earns him a kiss, fleeting and haste as his pace quickens and turns his mind to mush from the overstimulation.

when all the adrenaline subsides, the kisses pressed along his jawline feel rhythmic, but childe soon realizes that they’re words:

“thank you.”

the following morning is another addition to childe’s list of things to spend hours thinking about. whether to question his relationship with his roommate or to fantasize about said roommate late at night, he’s afraid to find out. he wakes up to scaramouche curled up in a ball, knees parallel to his face as he scrolls on his phone lazily. he’s wearing the shirt childe wore the night before, probably because it was already on the bed whereas his own shirt was tossed to an unknown location (and will probably not be found for a long time). without looking up, he speaks in a characteristically monotone voice.

“morning,” he mutters quietly.

childe brings a hand up to tilt his chin up and steal a kiss with surprisingly no resistance. “good morning.”

scaramouche turns his attention back to his phone, moving so he can face childe properly despite not looking up at him. “are you busy today?”

“no, why?”

“zhongli told me i should talk to my mother, i guess he knew she’s a professor here. but i don’t think i can do it alone. if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to—”

childe sits up in his spot, head turning so fast it almost gives him a headache. “you talked to the major? when?”

scaramouche shuts off his phone, staring at his fingers as he fidgets and picks at his nails. “a few weeks ago. he called me because he could tell i was annoyed that people were talking about me for liking guys and i—” he hesitates, like he catches himself from saying something out of line. “i thought i’d make sure you knew i wouldn’t be eating dinner that night.”

he thinks about reaching over to comfort him, to pull him into his chest and press a reassuring kiss to his forehead, but he doesn’t. he’s not quite ready for that yet. instead, he lifts his chin to look him in the eyes, catching the way his pupils shake as he struggles to make eye contact. “i’ll be there for you. always.”

for a long moment, scaramouche seems to melt in his touch, like those were the words he didn’t know he needed to hear. it’s almost as if time slows between them, the universe itself holding its breath when it realizes the words had unintentionally slipped out.

“thank you.”

scaramouche crawls over him, legs entangled under the sheets with his chin rested on childe’s chest. hands begin to wander, the two of them in silent agreement:

they can stay like this for a little while longer.

childe’s hands fidget as he parks his car, glancing around at his unfamiliar surroundings. scaramouche never told him that his family lives in a huge fucking rich people house on the top of a hill where rich people live. yes, childe may be loaded rich himself, but he’s a mere college student that lives in a shared dorm room on campus. he does not live in a huge fucking rich people house on the top of a hill where rich people live.

“i’m pretty sure i’m the one reuniting with my mother after more than a decade,” scaramouche jokes, resting a hand on childe’s. “relax. if my mother tries to kill you, i’ll do my best to stop her.”

he wants to be dramatic for the meme, but the hand on his is warm and gives him butterflies.

“actually, i think my sister is more dangerous. she only recently graduated from high school, but she can beat your ass before you can even blink.”

“ah, so it runs in the family. then i won’t be coming back here ever again.”

scaramouche laughs, shaking his head as he gets out of the car. when childe meets him in front of the door, he notices his hand clenched, trembling ever so slightly and he can’t help but take it. it’s cold to the touch, and he’s obviously too scared to budge, worried that his nonchalant facade might fall apart if he does. gently, childe forces his hand to relax, fingers intertwined as they wait for someone to answer. when the door opens, he snatches his hand away so fast childe doesn’t even have time to protest.

“kuni,” a pink haired woman says cheerfully, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

childe turns to scaramouche, eyebrow raised in question at the nickname. he’s not surprised that he ignores him.

“yae,” he says dryly, “it really has.”

the woman who childe learns is named yae smiles before sparing him a glance. “who is this?”

before childe can answer, scaramouche cuts him off. “this is ajax. he’s my roommate and my ride home.”

she raises an eyebrow, and childe swears that there’s a smirk on her face that looks oddly similar to scaramouche’s expression when he’s about to brutally torture him. the small action makes him want to leave and never come back. “come in, then. leave your shoes at the door.”

when she turns to leave while they walk in, childe throws questions at scaramouche like bullets. “is that your mom? ”

“no, she’s my mom’s assistant. they also grew up together.”

“why did she call you kuni?”

“my birth name is kunikuzushi.”

“that’s a cool ass name, why the fuck do you go by scaramouche? also, your mom grew up with an assistant? what kind of assistant? is your family like, rich rich? is that why you’re broke?”

“shut the fuck up. stop asking so many questions.”

childe follows scaramouche, curiously glancing around. the whole house feels like royalty from top to bottom, like the whole family had been born to rule countries and this house was built as their temporary home before their palace was finished. the decorations make it obvious that liking pink and purple is something common in the family. paintings of cherry blossoms decorate the walls, porcelain pieces painted in a regal purple and blood red. as edgy as scaramouche is, he can imagine his roommate growing up in such a graceful home.

they go out to the patio and the first thing childe notices is that there are literal sword racks, training dummies, and a large circular platform that looks perfect for one on one training. the toddler in him itches to go over there and practice at the ranges, but he knows he shouldn’t. he’s here for scaramouche. he can’t forget that.

his mother, her assistant, and his sister are all sitting at a round glass table. his sister – who does not look like she just graduated high school – has a sword sheathed at her hip, like she had gotten armed in preparation to meet her brother for the first time in years. his mother looks beautiful, hair braided on her shoulder and tucked neatly behind her ears. both of them share scaramouche’s intense violet gaze and hair so strikingly purple you would assume it’s dyed, pale porcelain skin that looks so fragile yet he knows everyone around him right now could fracture all of his bones at once with little effort.

the silence feels tense, and childe feels like a pair of scissors pressed carefully against a taut string. he doesn’t miss the way scaramouche seems to shrink when he meets his mother’s eyes. she stands up and walks towards him, the simple action so graceful and intimidating that childe has to look away. they only stand in front of each other for a moment, but it feels like the longest few seconds he’ll ever experience.

her hand raises, causing both of them to flinch.

“mother, i—”

before he can finish, she hugs him. she wastes no time as she pulls his small frame into her chest, arms wrapping around his waist tightly.

“welcome home, my son.”

childe feels like an intruder, so he glances over to yae, who smirks at him from a glass table as if to say that she knows he’s suffering and finds amusement in it. everyone in this goddamn family is the same, he swears. he manages to let his mind wander enough for him to let the moment fly past his head, afraid of watching such a personal moment as a bystander, so he only comes back into focus when they all take their seats at the table.

“who is this man?” his sister says, who childe later learns is named raiden.

“he’s a…” he chews on his bottom lip avoiding eye contact with childe as he tries to find words, “he’s just a friend.”

raiden looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow, and he soon feels her mother regard him in the same manner, almost as if all the women in the family seem to be disgusted by his presence. or they just hate men. childe has no idea how scaramouche was  under the impression that any of them were homophobic.

“why did you leave?” his mother asks, a wistful look in her eyes, as if she knows the answer but asks because it’s the first thing her mind lands on while she’s still processing the arrival of her son.

scaramouche shifts in his seat uncomfortably, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt under the table. “i was… scared. i didn’t want you to hate me.”

“because you thought we wouldn’t like it if you came out as gay?” raiden says blatantly, like she doesn’t care about the weight of her words.

her brother takes a deep, shaky breath. “that, and i was scared you would hate me even more because i abandoned you guys.”

she looks angry, but childe quickly realizes that that’s just how she always looks when her expression becomes sympathetic.

ei leans forward and catches scaramouche’s attention effortlessly, something childe has failed to do countless times. “we still love you no matter what. your sexuality will never change that.”

scaramouche lets out a quiet chuckle. “i obviously know that now. i guess i never noticed the way yae looks at you.”

his mother reddens and it takes all of childe’s strength not to laugh. thankfully, he’s not the only one, yae herself bursting out in laughter at the remark and raiden letting out a quiet giggle.

“i’m sorry i left,” scaramouche says, voice so soft childe almost doesn’t hear him.

“i’m sorry i never tried hard enough to look for you.”

the string childe had felt so afraid to cut had finally begun to loosen.

“so are you two dating?” yae says before taking a sip of her tea, peering over her cup the same way childe looks at him when he wants to see his reaction.

scaramouche turns bright red, starting to stand up from his chair. “i think we should go.”

“i have no idea myself, actually,” he finally says after hardly speaking throughout the entirety of his visit. “i was planning on asking—”

“ ajax. ” he says through gritted teeth, earning another laugh from yae as he stands up. “thank you for letting us visit.”

“no need to thank me, this is still your home if you want it to be,” ei says carefully.

childe understands it – having to deal with scaramouche’s fragile nature daily teaches you how to add safety nets to every word that leaves your mouth no matter how light the situation is. except this time, he’s sure it isn’t necessary.

scaramouche smiles. “then i take it back.”

a few weeks have passed since scaramouche came out to his family. childe notices ei and yae on campus a lot more often, and scaramouche leaves their shared dorm room more than he used to. kaeya finally got the drinks he so desperately wanted childe to pay for while making fun of him for still not finding the courage to ask scaramouche out.

(“how would i even do that?” he asks, slumped over on the counter as kaeya orders another drink.

“just ask. it’s as easy as that.”

“for you, sure! albedo isn’t as hard to talk to y’know?”

kaeya chuckles, lips pressed to the rim of his glass. “oh, trust me, getting with albedo was much harder than you think.”

“how?”

“because,” he begins, as-a-matter-of-factly, “i fell for him first. that means i had to charm him into liking me back, which is like, a million times harder than actually asking someone out.”

“so you’re saying i don’t have to do that?”

“exactly.” he downs the rest of his drink, grinning like a madman when he puts the glass down. “he’s already in love with you.”)

“ shit,”  scaramouche hisses, nails digging into childe’s back and carving lines over his skin.

gently, childe presses kisses along the side of his neck, greatly contrasting against the fast thrusting of his hips and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin. he’s so hot under him, he thinks, mind muddled and mushy with arousal as he watches the way his face flushes and his makeup smears along with his tears (that one might cost him later, especially since scaramouche spent a lot more time than usual on his eyeliner today).

he’s so goddamn pretty that he wants to see those red, bite swollen lips when they curl up into a smile, to see those pretty eyes shut so tightly stare up at him, smitten and fond. the thought alone is enough to make a sober man even more sober, bringing clarity to his mind as he quickens his pace even more in an effort to please scaramouche. as if making him cum hard enough will make him want to spend the rest of his life with childe. it’s so ridiculous it’s almost funny, except it’s not.

“fuck, slow down, i’m—”

“cum for me.”

scaramouche sobs as his head falls back on the pillows, trembling as he rides out his orgasm. his hole clenches down on him, enough for it to bring childe closer and closer to the edge.

“that’s it, you did so well, baby,” he mutters against his lips before closing the space between them with a messy kiss.

it takes a few harsh thrusts before childe releases into him, digging his face into his shoulder as he moans. the two of them stay still as they come down from their highs, breaths starting to become steady as they begin to calm down. once childe finishes cleaning up, he glances at scaramouche, who has an arm draped over his eyes.

“can i ask you something weird?”

“you just did.”

“do you want to go out with me? like, be my boyfriend?”

childe blinks rapidly, struggling to process the words he just said. “that’s a weird question,” he says with the intelligence of a world renowned scientist.

“i know.”

another moment to process what the fuck is happening.

“uhh,” he says ingeniously, “yeah, sure.”

scaramouche moves his arm and stares at him incredulously. “did you just… say ‘yeah sure’ to someone asking you out? ”

childe shrinks in embarrassment, hiding under the covers. “yeah…?”

when he swears he just made scaramouche regret asking him out, he just laughs, shuffling in the bed to move closer to him. “dude, i fucking hate you.”

“i know.”

as they press gentle kisses against each other’s skin, ignoring the fact that both of them have classes to attend soon, the two of them come to another silent agreement:

they can stay like this for a little while longer.