Chapter Text
“Was that an earthquake?”
“Again? It’s the third time this week.”
“Childe, I am most certainly dying.”
It’s insanity, actual insanity. The adepti loitering outside Zhongli’s bedchambers aren’t helping the matter at all. There’s a peek of blue hair past the door frame, that Childe catches from the corner of his eyes. Nosy, all of them. They’re only adding fuel to the fire with their worried stares, as Zhongli unnecessarily prepares some kind of last will and testament.
“No, you are not.” Childe insists for what feels like the millionth time today. He sighs and tugs at his hair. Zhongli sniffles across from him. The man looks like a wreck, that’s for sure. But, his waxing on about life and death… nothing less than dramatic. “Tell him, ” Childe searches for a grounding opinion. Madame Ping, surely Zhongli will listen to her.
“Given the volume of fluid loss and the increase in our lord’s body temperature, I can assuredly say his body is in a state of decay.”
Excuse me? Have they never seen a sick person in their… what, hundreds, thousands of years lifespan? Or, were they so far removed it never seemed like an issue that would affect them?
There’s a dramatic, muffled wail from beneath a pile of blankets.
Their lord, former Archon and god, reduced to a mess at his first instance of illness.
(A baby, Childe thinks. He is being a big baby.)
“No-!” Childe says. It feels like an increasingly fruitless venture. “That is not- that’s not how it works. It’s a cold. A simple human illness, not some fatal disease. With all the time you’ve spent amongst humans, “And, without a gnosis now, too. “You must have grown susceptible.”
“A human illness? How would he have gotten it?”
Rhetorical. The peering eyes that bore into his back know the answer enough.
Him.
Childe coughs, awkwardly.
“Anyway-”
“Fatui, you are the reason our lord is in this terrible way?” The murderous intent that bears on him forces a laugh from Childe.
“He will be fine,” Childe bides his time with the anxious yaksha. “Fine,” He insists yet again. “I can fix it, if you would give me time. Alone. ” He hisses the last. They have spent too long crowding Zhongli’s already small living room, practically hopping over each other to peer inside at their ailing Archon.
Zhongli does not help the matter with the show he’s put on, snotting and sneezing all over the place. Childe would feel bad- would had he not had to bear witness to their absolute absurdity, and apparent lack of knowledge about human immune systems.
“No-”
The protest is stopped. “Let him,” Madame Ping says. Childe feels relief for the first time today. “The adepti work in what humans would call miracles. For one of us, perhaps a more human touch is needed.”
Xiao grumbles. His displeasure is echoed by the Cloud Retainer.
“If the lord so requests it,”
Zhongli does.
Childe sighs when he’s finally left alone, and the last of the immortal’s oppressive presence leaves the apartment. Zhongli looks at him expectantly. A man, such as he, refined, powerful, intelligent, left bleary eyed and runny nosed. His cheeks are a bright red. Chile pressed the back of his hand to Zhongli’s forehead once, and it seared . A temperature much higher than a normal, human body capable of. His ‘ human germs ’ as the yaksha called it, must really be doing a number on him.
“My body,” Zhongli complains. “It is, as if it is boiling from the inside. And, my skin- it is damp. The sensation is very unpleasant, yet no matter how many times I bathe, it returns. This, as well Childe-” He sniffles. His eyes are wet with tears, and he sneezes yet again. “It does not cease!”
He can’t laugh. Childe cannot laugh at how distraught Zhongli is over something so… mundane. But, Archon’s above, he wants to.
“Yeah, it's your body fighting back. Didn’t know immortals had immune systems. I thought it would be redundant with the whole ‘not dying’ thing. Guess, there’s a first time for everything.”
First time for their adeptus-mortal coupling, and a first time for said relationship to result in one too many things shared. In their close proximity, the virus must have jumped.
“It will go away on its own,” Childe reassures, though Zhongli meets him with suspicion. Idiot, dragon. He needs to trust him. “I can help alleviate some of the symptoms in the meantime.” It is what he promised of the adepti. A less miserable dragon, and hopefully, less geo disturbances in the city.
“Help?” Zhongli asks. Fuck, does he have to look cute like this? Disgusting, yes. A mess… also, yes. But, there’s something endearing in it with how he clings to Childe’s words.
“Like my mother for me,” Childe murmurs before he flits about Zhongli’s house. It’s second nature to him now- in search of the things he needs. How did this happen? He’s a Harbinger. Intimidating. Bloodthirsty. Abyss tainted. Now, acting as some sick Archon’s nurse.
Ironic.
(Childe doesn’t find that he minds much.)
He cleans up the place while he’s at it. In Zhongli’s sickness nesting, he’s made a true disaster of the place. Gathering needed items in his bedroom, things that comfort him to his bed. Laundry, cooking. It all has to be done.
Childe brings Zhongli a cold compress for his fever when he finishes. The dragon purrs at that, latches onto Childe’s wrist and threatens to drag him into his sweaty, germ filled mess of a nest.
“You’ll infect us both.” Childe protests.
Zhongli isn’t having it. “It is allegedly your fault I have contracted this,” Is he fucking with him? Childe is sure of it. “ Cold.”
“ Allegedly .” Childe retorts. He is thankfully released.
There are a few things Childe wishes to try. Things his family used to do for the kids when they were sick. He’s not sure if Zhongli will appreciate Snezhnayan remedies, but the man isn’t in the position to be choosy.
Garlic, Childe finds easily in Zhongli’s kitchen. The bulbs hang from the ceiling near the window. Four heads of it, ground down to a watery paste. The way his grandmother used to do it. Childe always hated this one. He made sure not to cough near her.
Something about it feels… incomplete. Maybe a few jueyan chili seeds? Something from home, and the added spice with the pungent garlic should clear Zhongli’s sinuses like nothing else.
When Childe returns, Zhongli is slumped over on the bed. No more than a lump in the bedding. He sits along the edge and nudges his side. ”Come now, Zhongli. I have something for you to try.”
A groan. When Childe insists again, he is met with a rare curse from the man. This time, he allows himself to laugh.
“You will be fine. Were you not the one longing for the simple life of a mortal? Well, this is part of it.”
God, Zhongli. He pours from every orifice. It only grows worse when Childe shoves the concoction up his nose.
( What is he doing? Fuck, it must be love.)
Zhongli’s reaction is as instantaneous as it is unpleasant.
The earth beneath them tremors in displeasure, and the trinkets and books lining the shelves of Zhongli’s bedroom threaten to crash to the floor. Zhongli recoils from him, as does Childe. Honestly, he is surprised he managed to keep all limbs intact, and Zhongli didn’t just try to chomp his hand.
“Chi- chiiiilde~”
Is it that bad? The betrayal that pours from Zhongli’s eyes is answer enough. He’s never had this kind of reaction. Childe takes a whiff of his creation, and the overwhelming scent makes his eyes water.
He should have skipped the chili seeds.
That Zhongli is still up for round two impresses him. He must loathe his sick state enough to put up with Childe’s growing ‘trial and error’ in traditional home remedies. Childe cannot possibly mess up the second one that bad. It’s a simple gargle to rid Zhongli of his cough.
Dissolve salts in boiling water and infuse with winter beetroot.
Childe acquires fresh salt from Liyue Harbor. The label is fancy, and he is told it is medicinal. Though he thinks it's more in name only for the purposes of a premium price. The beetroot is normally foraged in the pine forests of Snezhnaya. He will have to find a substitute.
Wolfhook gathered near the Liyue, Mondstadt border would do. The berry is a strong blue and would produce the bright color combined with an earthy, mineral rich root. The concoction Childe boils on the stovetop turns out rather… sour. A strong tart flavor rises from the pot. That… is not normal.
No matter. It should still accomplish what he needs it to.
Chile presents a peculiar glass of steaming blue liquid. Zhongli eyes it with an appropriate amount of suspicion, but takes it anyway.
“This… will help me?”
“Should help better than last time.” Childe hopes. “It’s meant to soothe the throat. If you would gargle a small am-”
Zhongli chugs it.
All. In one gulp.
“ No -” Childe tries. He really does. It is too late.
Zhongli spits it back out with a sputter. It sprays across Childe’s gaping face. You know, not the way Childe wants to be covered in his lover’s spit. Sheesh. “You…” He starts slowly with this pained tone. “Weren’t supposed to drink it.”
“That was terrible. My Childe, are you so sure you are not trying to hasten the grasp this disease has on me? Is it another part of the Tsaritisa’s plan you failed to tell me of?”
Is he really that bad at this? No one’s complained before. Childe took care of his kid siblings before, even some of his subordinates. They would tell him right?
(Childe is starting to think the answer is, no.)
The weird medical mixture full of dragon saliva drips down his face. The blue of the wolfhook stains everything it touches. Childe’s clothes, the bed, even the rug beneath them. Childe wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his already sacrificed shirt.
Zhongli watches with this muted horror. “It was too… tart.” He says, sheepishly. At least, the old god feels shame for spitting all over him.
“That would be the-” Childe shakes his hair free of blue liquid. “ The wolfhook.”
“Ah.” Zhongli says in a small voice.
“Ah,” Childe repeats back at him, absolutely dumbfounded.
Zhongli rubs at the base of his throat. He clears it once, and then says, “It does feel soothing. Perhaps instead, you can make me more of that tea. Remember, the one your mother made with the jam. The flavors were quite strong, like those which would appeal to a child, but I found the sensation quite… pleasant.”
“Yeah,” Childe blanches. “I can do that.”
Later, Zhongli asks for Childe to sit with him. At least, until he falls asleep. Only Childe falls asleep, as well.
When he awakens the next day, sweltering in this hot mess of a bed with a snoring man draped across his chest. Childe feels a heaviness in his bones and a pressure behind his eyes. His nose sniffles, and his throat is dry.
Fuck.
Zhongli got him sick, too.