Work Text:
Childe hummed, hopping along the road so each step landed on a separate slab, his stomach full on good food and his heart full on even better company. He and Zhongli made their way down Liyue’s main street, each of Childe’s jolting movements pulling at their linked arms. Already the sun dipped below the mountaintops to the west, and the lights were beginning to flicker on from the people cosied away in their homes, casting long shadows across the city’s streets.
“You seem to be in a good mood, Childe.” Zhongli drew his arm closer to his side, tipping Childe’s balance so their bodies pressed closer together. “I understand you were particularly fond of the dessert, but I would appreciate it if you did not attempt to dislocate my arm as your method of celebration.”
“Hey, don’t blame me! You don’t know how bored I’ve been without our little trips out. Ekaterina gave me double the paperwork to do because I ‘wasn’t busy’, hmph!”
“May I remind you that it was you who have been avoiding me? I requested your presence not once, but several times over the previous month.”
“Pfft, so hung up on details, xiansheng,” Childe scoffed, but it was true: he had been avoiding Zhongli. He considered it quite justified after all Zhongli had put him through. However, when the missive arrived from Her Majesty praising him for his role in retrieving Morax’s gnosis, his temper was somewhat soothed, and within the part of him that previously held anger and resentment was left acceptance and a longing for the company he used to keep.
Besides, he couldn’t exactly claim his own innocence in the situation either, so he let bygones be bygones and accepted Zhongli’s invitation to an evening at Third-Round Knockout. Neither of them spoke of what happened on that day at Northland Bank, instead laughing over old jokes and filling each other in on the events they’d missed in each other’s lives. When Childe fumbled his chopsticks, dropping his dessert on the table, Zhongli laughed, taking Childe’s hand in his own and guiding him to feed himself.
It was almost like a date. Not that Childe minded; it was something he’d casually considered, in times before the incident, on many an evening when he’d returned to his room, Zhongli’s words echoing in his head until he fell into a peaceful sleep.
They headed over the bridge, stopping at the end where they always parted – Zhongli would head to his apartment he rented above Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and Childe would leave for his hotel room near the docks. They bid their farewells, but as Childe turned to leave, Zhongli grabbed his wrist.
“Huh? What is it?” asked Childe.
Zhongli coughed into his fist, not holding Childe’s gaze evenly, but his eyes instead flickered across Childe’s face as though searching for something. “Ahem, Childe, would you perhaps like to do the same tomorrow? If you do not already have arrangements, of course, and we can dine somewhere else if you prefer.”
Childe took his chance, hidden under a layer of playful indifference. “Well, you know, that’s sounding awfully like a date to me.”
Gaze levelling, Zhongli’s grip on him tightened. “It can be, if that is what you wish.”
“Yeah, that’d be great! I mean…” Childe rubbed the back of his neck, which was suddenly far too hot. “A date then, right. Tomorrow, Third-Round Knockout will be great.”
“Then I shall see you tomorrow.” Releasing him, Zhongli took a step toward his path home.
“Hey, wait up!” Before he could stop himself, Childe grabbed the back of Zhongli’s sleeve. “I, uh…” He trailed off, scolding himself mentally: he was one of Her Majesty’s Harbingers, a wielder of powers born of both Celestia and the Abyss, a strong and fearsome warrior – all this hesitation wouldn’t do at all.
Bold.
Powerful.
Fearless.
He eyed Zhongli, his face so perfect in the evening light, and knew what he had to do. With a decisive yank, he pulled Zhongli closer to him, leaned forward and pecked him firmly on the cheek. Zhongli’s eyes widened and Childe’s body tingled warm and cold as he drew back.
“Uhh, goodnight xiansheng, see you tomorrow!” he blurted in a single breath.
Then he ran.
Childe wasn’t able to sleep that night, his lips tingling where they’d touched Zhongli’s skin and his heart pounding at the memory. After several hours of staring at the ceiling he caved, slipping back into his uniform and heading outside for a spot of emergency debt collection, an activity benefiting both the bank and his composure – a win-win!
And a win it was – the unprepared treasure hoarders put up a pitiful fight and Childe had them beaten to the ground in a few well placed strikes. Their incompetence was disappointing, but adrenaline pumped through him in an energising buzz as they directed him to their hoard with shaking voices. After tucking the coins into his pocket and dismissing them with a threatening gesture from his blades, he started out of the encampment at a jog, intent to keep his blood flowing hot and fast.
That was when the evening’s events first went wrong.
For the past week, the rainfall outside of Liyue Harbor’s safe haven had been relentless. Childe had watched the grey mass of cloud rolling over the mountaintops from the safe confines of his hotel room, flashes of light jumping to the ground and thunder booming across the land. However, even though the rainfall had now stopped, the ground remained waterlogged, mud and grass smudged and smeared into a hazardous, slippery mess from the prior fight.
As he rounded the corner, his foot caught the ground wrong, sliding out from underneath him. He careened to the left, the ground flying toward him, and something smashed against the back of his head.
He didn’t remember hitting the ground. When he opened his eyes, the rain had resumed, his uniform already drenched as it pelted down on him. His head pounded and he raised a hand to touch it, blood dripping down his fingers when he pulled it away to inspect the damage.
That was going to need a healer.
Wiping the blood on his jacket, he pulled himself to a kneeling position, his clothes so soaked the ground didn’t feel any worse, save for the way the mud squelched through the fabric, smooth and sticky against his skin. Bracing himself against the culprit for his injury – a jagged stone wall surrounding the treasure hoarder camp – he hauled himself to his feet, the world spinning around him.
Damn, he’d hit his head harder than he’d thought.
Wiping another layer of blood from his hairline, he trudged back toward Liyue, unable to stay quite in the middle of the road. This was bad. The Millelith on guard would think him some violent drunk if he tried to stagger into Liyue like this, weaving bloodstained along the path; he wasn’t in the mood to explain his activities leading to his current state and he was in no condition to fight off more than a couple of them at once.
No problem – he’d go up over one of the mountains and glide home avoiding the guards entirely.
A small part of him noted, as he shuffled toward Mt Tianheng, that his decision making wasn’t at its usual efficiency and climbing a mountain with what was probably a moderate concussion was a bad idea, but the side of him that was cold, aching and longing to get home to a warm bed and a good sleep squashed the logic bug and he continued on his way.
To his credit, he made it to the top with little issue, shifting to his hands and knees to crawl along any particularly narrow ledges, lest the gusts whipping around the mountainside should rip him from the path, flinging him to a near-certain death. With a groan, he pulled himself onto the mountaintop, wiping another swipe of coagulated blood from the wound.
That was when the evening’s events went wrong for the second time.
A screech and a mechanical crunch.
At first, Childe assumed it to be the wind, but when a dark hunk of metal floated into the air in front of him, running its hand down the blade housed on the end of its other arm, a chill ran through his body, as frigid as the wind pressing in from the outside.
Move! Commanded his brain, but his reactions were dulled and he jumped to the side too late as the ruin hunter slashed forward. It caught, ripping through his shirt and jacket and slicing his chest. The sting was instant and biting, and Childe clamped his hand to the wound, a deep crimson spreading across his uniform where it connected.
Weapons, fight, stop messing around!
Right, he needed to fight. He liked fighting. He was good at fighting. Focus.
The rain continued pelting down, but he could use it to his advantage. Drawing power from his Delusion, he generated blades of electro, hissing and sizzling under his hands as the rain connected.
Across the mountaintop, the ruin hunter rounded, drawing its blade again. Childe squared himself, braced and waiting as it charged, and he launched into the air on a jolt of electro.
As he flew toward it, the ruin hunter swung, and his instincts screamed at him to dodge. However, his body was slower to react, the machine's blade catching against his thigh as he plunged his own blade into the central eye. Hydro reacted with electro as blade met waterlogged machine, and it buzzed and stuttered, shuddering and crashing to the ground. Ignoring the searing pain in his leg, Childe held the blade there until the ruin hunter stilled before collapsing to the ground flat on his back.
His uniform was more red than grey; the cuts were deep and they hurt. It took all his strength to push himself to his feet, ignoring the sensation of a thousand needles jamming their way into his skin.
He had to get back. But to where? These injuries needed tending to – blood loss aside, the volume of mud infused into his uniform could cause infection if left uncleaned. Bubu Pharmacy would be closed at this time of night, he’d not requested a Fatui doctor be waiting on standby due to the spontaneity of his trip, and there was no way he could reach the head wound well enough to effectively clean it out himself.
A name weaved itself into the back of his mind.
Could he really go there? Like this?
Readying his glider and jumping, Childe sailed toward the main residential hub of Liyue, his eyes gravitating to a certain funeral parlour. Yes, he could go there, he’d just be shifting their date a little earlier than planned, and if it was too much trouble he could leave, no harm done.
As he approached, an open window caught his view and he adjusted his flight path toward it, his aching body longing for the comfort and care he longed to find within.
He just needed to get himself to Zhongli. Then everything would be fine.
Thud.
Ceiling then floor then ceiling then floor. Childe flipped over and over before slamming into the wall. He laid there on the wooden floor, groaning in a crumpled heap as he attempted to re-orient himself, his vision spinning. A desk was tucked in the opposite corner, framed by two wall-to-floor height bookshelves. Several cabinets full of valuable looking trinkets lined the wall he’d landed against, and Childe considered himself lucky he hadn’t collided with any of them. That would’ve been a difficult expense to get written off on the bank’s mora.
As his senses returned, so did the stabbing pain in his chest and thigh, and he hauled himself to his feet using the wall as support. He needed help. He was here for help.
“Zhongli? Zhongli xiansheng?” he called out, surprised at how breathless and hoarse his own voice sounded. Energy drained, he leaned his head back against the wall, praying that Zhongli heard him the first time; he didn’t possess the strength to try again.
No sooner had his head touched the wall, the door to the left flew open, a dishevelled looking Zhongli rushing in wearing only his trousers and a half-buttoned shirt, his hair wet and loose down his back.
“Childe? This is most unexpected.” His eyes widened as he looked Childe up and down, fixating on the small puddle of blood forming on the floor at Childe’s feet.
“Hey, xiansheng,” said Childe, his adrenaline draining away at the sight of his saviour, leaving him lightheaded and swaying on his feet. “Funny to see you here, ha…” His legs trembled beneath him before giving way, and he crumpled to the floor.
“Ah, I’ve got you.” A pair of arms swooped in underneath him before impact, pulling him close against something soft and warm. “It would seem you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of a predicament.”
Childe blinked, finding the concerned face of Zhongli staring down at him. The soft and warm thing was Zhongli’s body he was being cradled against as Zhongli carried him from the room and into an adjacent one.
A woody scent filled the air and Childe craned his head, trying to figure out where Zhongli was taking him. An already filled bathtub sat along the far wall (that explained the wet hair), and shelves were arranged along the wall, with bottles of ointments, oils and creams all fighting for space atop them.
Zhongli paused, letting out a thoughtful hum before taking Childe to place him on the floor against the wall next to the bath. Finding some of his strength, Childe pushed himself upright as Zhongli fetched several bottles from around the shelves, a cloth from the rack and a box of medical supplies from one of the cupboards.
Returning to Childe’s side, Zhongli knelt down beside him, taking hold of the corner of his jacket. “May I remove this?” he asked.
Childe nodded. The world spun when he sat forward, but Zhongli pressed one hand against Childe’s back in support as he manoeuvred the jacket around his shoulders. Childe helped with his weapon belt, shrugging it off with Zhongli’s assistance, and the shirt underneath came off itself, eviscerated by the ruin hunter’s blade.
The wound wasn’t as deep as he’d first assumed, but it was long, and Childe hissed at the sting when Zhongli pressed the cloth to it, which was soaked with a sweet-clinical smelling substance Childe didn’t know, but also didn’t question.
“Easy now,” soothed Zhongli, dabbing and wiping around the area, cleaning off the dried blood and allowing the strange substance to enter the wound and the surrounding skin. “This is an ointment made primarily with violetgrass, which has medicinal properties aiding in both cleaning and promoting repair of a wound. Now, I’m going to press here, so you might feel some discomfort...”
Zhongli continued talking through his process as he cleaned and bandaged the cut, and Childe closed his eyes to focus on his words. Zhongli left no surprise in his movements, no unexpected pressure, and it was oddly calming.
“Ahem.” Zhongli cleared his throat, and Childe opened his eyes. His chest was now bandaged, the fabric sitting snug against his skin, but Zhongli’s attention had shifted. Instead, he stared at the gash on Childe’s thigh, hand hovering above it. “Childe, could you please assist? I shall, ahem, avert my eyes.”
Childe couldn’t help but laugh, despite how the movement tugged at his wound. Even the distinguished Zhongli could be embarrassed – he’d tuck that little fact away for later. “Sure, sure, don’t worry – I’ve had a wound dressed before, it’s nothing new for me.”
“Yes, of course,” said Zhongli, turning his head away to stare intently at the far wall.
Silly old Archon.
Childe undid his belt, pulled off his boots and slid his trousers down, wincing as he peeled the fabric from the gash in his leg, dried blood pulling as it stuck to his leg hairs and opening the wound, which began to bleed once more.
“Shoot.”
Zhongli’s attention snapped to Childe before he immediately averted his eyes again. “This is no good… please wait a moment.”
He got up and left the room, leaving Childe feeling oddly exposed, leant against the wall in his underwear and a bandage. It wasn't how he’d imagined the night would turn out, he had to admit.
Zhongli returned, a long fluffy robe slung over his arm, and he handed it to Childe, still refusing to look at him. Childe slipped it over his shoulders and wrapped it around his body, the fabric was as soft and comforting as his mother’s embrace, and he melted into it, running his fingertips against the hem of the sleeve.
“You can stop looking at the wall now,” he said, pulling at Zhongli’s trouser leg, “so come on if you don’t want me to bleed all over your nice robe.”
“Yes, of course.”
Zhongli took his position crouched by Childe's side, cleaning the wound as tenderly as the previous one. The gash on his thigh was deeper, however, and continued to dribble blood which collected in a pool on the floor.
“This is rather deep,” said Zhongli, running his hand along the edge. “My skills are not the most developed among healers, but I do have a little I can offer you.”
A golden glow pulsed at the ends of his fingers, flowing into the wound. It tingled and tickled, but there was no pain as the ends knitted together, halving its length by the time Zhongli pulled his hand away.
With a small nod, he took out a bandage and set to dressing the injury. “That is all I can do for now, but the adeptal energy I utilised should help it to repair on its own a little more easily. However, I would ask you to not share this particular talent outside of this room.”
“Sure, sure, o’ ‘definitely-not-an-immortal’ one. I’ll keep your little secret.”
“Thank you. It is appreciated. Now, would you be able to shift forward? I would like to check that head wound of yours.”
With a grunt of acknowledgement, Childe pushed forward, but the room shifted around him, the shelves warping and twisting in position while Zhongli floated backwards away from him.
Zhongli grabbed his arm, holding him upright. “Careful, Childe. You must’ve taken quite the blow. Here, lean against me.”
A shift behind him, then Childe found himself tucked between Zhongli’s legs, his back pressed to Zhongli’s chest and one arm wrapped around his middle, steadying him. He tensed, the close proximity of another usually only found in battle, but when Zhongli’s breaths tickled his neck and a damp cloth wiped cool and refreshing against his neck he settled, allowing his weight to fall back into Zhongli’s support.
“It doesn’t appear to be too deep, despite the volume of blood.” Zhongli combed his fingers through Childe’s hair, teasing it away from the injury site. “Head wounds do tend to bleed rather a lot, but the majority of it appears to be bruising.” He pressed, sending a shooting pain through the back of Childe’s head.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“Apologies, I did not mean to harm you.” Zhongli reached back, and there was the sound of bottles clattering against the floor. “I’m going to clean it out now. This may sting a little, but please hold still as best you can; it will be over soon and I shall endeavour to cause as little pain as possible.”
“It’s fine, I’ve had worse, so do what you need to do, alright?”
“That does not please me to hear, but very well.”
Childe gritted his teeth as the cloth touched to the wound, the liquid on it pressing into his skin setting off a sharp, head-spinning pain ricocheting around his skull. He wasn’t sure what Zhongli was using this time, but it stung like fire and he gripped onto Zhongli’s hand without a second thought.
Before he could pull away, Zhongli laced his fingers through his, stroking over his knuckles. “You’re doing well, just a little more.”
At Zhongli’s words, a fluffy sensation jumbled within Childe’s gut.
Oh. That was nice.
Zhongli continued to work, allowing Childe to squeeze on his hand without complaint each time he applied pressure too firmly or poked the wrong spot, sending another burst of pain shuttering through him.
“There,” he said after an age of poking and prodding, “that should be sufficient – most of the bleeding has already subsided on its own, so I believe you are done.”
“Thanks.” Childe attempted to shuffle forward, but the hand on his waist held him back. “I should probably head home now though, I’ve already kept you up long enough and–”
“Home? You nearly fell over just a few minutes ago while you were already sitting down. I believe that would be a poor idea.”
“I guess, but–”
“Stay.”
Childe froze, pinned down by the weight of all that was unspoken in Zhongli’s single word.
Stay, you are welcome here.
Stay, please do not leave.
Stay, I will take care of you.
Leaning back with a sigh, Childe let his cheek rest on Zhongli’s shoulder. “Well, if you don’t mind… who am I to refuse a request from the mighty Rex Lapis?”
“Rex Lapis is long deceased.” Zhongli tutted into his ear. “But I am pleased to hear you are open to sense.”
“Hey, careful!” protested Childe as Zhongli scooped him up in the same manner as before and carried him into the hallway. “You don’t have to throw me around like a sack of potatoes!”
“I would argue I am treating you nothing like a sack of potatoes. For example, potatoes would not speak,” said Zhongli, but pulled Childe closer into him nevertheless as he turned into a room to their right.
Usually Childe would’ve protested at the way Zhongli laid him gently on the bed as though he was delicate, as though he was some fragile thing prone to breaking, but found no urge to when the plump pillows absorbed his aching head and Zhongli tucked the cool, smooth sheets around his body.
His eyes were already half closed when Zhongli ducked his head down and planted a kiss on Childe’s cheek, in the exact manner Childe had only a few hours earlier.
“Hey, what was that?” The kiss revitalised him, his eyes blown wide as he propped himself up on his elbow, touching a hand to that divine part of his cheek Zhongli’s lips had touched. “I know we were supposed to be going on a date tomorrow and all, but taking me to your bed and a kiss? Little eager, huh? At least take me to dinner first, xiansheng!”
“Hmm?” Zhongli brought a hand to his chin. “I was intending to sleep on the chair, but if you wish for me to sleep in the bed also, I would not object.”
“Huh? That’s not what I–” Childe reached around to rub the back of his neck, but a knot of pain pulsed at the contact and he winced, letting it fall back to the sheets. “Well, I don’t mind either, and I’d feel bad making you sleep on the chair I guess.”
Golden eyes levelled with him, serious and piercing. “Are you certain?”
“I’m sure, it’s fine! Look–” Wiggling back to make room, he patted the empty spot. “See, plenty of room.”
Zhongli’s expression remained serious, but his eyes smiled for him. “In that case, very well.”
Zhongli left the room, leaving Childe counting the seconds ticking by on the clock on the opposite wall, waiting for his return. It didn’t take long for him to stride back through the door, hair brushed sleek and smooth and dressed in loose, flowing nightclothes. He flicked off the main light before climbing into the bed next to Childe, leaving them laying face to face in the half-light glowing from the bedside lamp.
Neither of them closed their eyes. Instead, silence and half-averted stares filled the space between them. Zhongli was beautiful on the inside and out, the flawless angles of his features in perfect congruence with the kindness within his heart, and Childe longed to reach out, to lay close to this perfect creature.
“I…” he started, but no words came to continue the sentence.
“You what, Childe?”
“I dunno.”
Zhongli held up his arm. “I think we are both making this more difficult than it has to be. We were supposed to go on what you would call a date tomorrow, correct?”
Childe caught Zhongli’s eye, and Zhongli caught his, and they both laughed, the tension between them dissipating into a mirthful haze.
“Okay, okay I get what you’re trying to say.” Childe grinned, shuffling into the space Zhongli offered and letting their limbs tangle together, foreheads resting against each other.
“Much better.” Zhongli wrapped his arm tightly around Childe’s middle. “Please let me know if you need my attention during the night. I am here if you need me.”
“I know, I know,” said Childe, and he did. Despite the late hour, his tragic state and the spontaneity of his visit, Zhongli hadn’t hesitated to rechart the course of his evening to tend to Childe with careful touches and reassuring words. It was a peculiar feeling; outside of his family, it was a rare occurrence for him to care and have someone care for him in return, but care Zhongli did, and Childe was going to relish in it for as long as he could.
Yes, Zhongli cared and perhaps, Childe dared to hope, he always would.