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It was the dead of night, the two harbingers were sent out on a mission to investigate in Snezhnaya, the land of perpetual cold. The mission was simple — find the person spreading confidential information and have them be "taken care of". Somehow the traitor was spreading information about the harbingers whereabouts. Luckily it was someone without rank or power — one swift move and the issue was over with. It was foolish to ever betray the Fatui, selling the information for mora had cost the traitor their life.
Upon completing this task, the Eleventh and Sixth Harbinger had found themselves at a rinky-dink inn a long while from their destination.
"Two rooms please!" Childe began to shift through his pockets for some mora, only for his fingers to slip through a hole in his pocket. Scaramouche sighed and slapped his bag of mora on the counter as if this was a frequent occurrence. They had been partnering up more frequently ever since Scaramouche had gotten back from his last mission in Inazuma.
"Oh, I'm truly sorry! It seems we only have a one bedroom available...." the receptionist trailed off, "would you still be interested? It'll be pretty hard to find a place to stay with the upcoming blizzard." Ah yes, Snezhnayan blizzards, they can last a day or they can last months.
Childe looked down at Scaramouche, who now had his arms crossed. It seemed the Sixth was annoyed with how long this was taking, "Scara.. I can take the floor, I'm not opposed to it."
"Alright.. you can take the floor then. That'd be fine, just the one bed then, we'll take it."
They exchanged the mora and obtained the keys, heading to their room swiftly. Unlocking the door and slipping off their bags, the Balladeer headed towards the bathroom with a set of pajamas in hand.
It was usually this quiet, Scaramouche needed time to cool down after any sort of mission, Childe let him be with minimal talking. Childe sat on the sole bed in the room, waiting for his turn in the shower. A metallic squeak came out from the bathroom and soon after, a yelp.
Childe couldn't believe it came from Scaramouche, jumping up to help him, he headed towards the door. His hand just barely touched the knob before Scaramouche exclaimed, "IT'S FUCKING FREEZING."
Childe's hands relaxed, he withdrew them and went back to Scaramouche's bed, plopping down on it until the Sixth opened the door, shivering. "Fuck..it's freezing." He chattered his way over to the bed, Childe instinctively stood up and wrapped the beige sherpa blanket around Scaramouche. Although they both knew they had an interest in each other, neither of the two ever officially brought it up, just subtle flirting attempts frequenting more and more after being partnered up.
"Since you're so cold, we could sleep together and keep each other wa-"
"Don't you even fucking think about slipping into bed with me."
Childe finished wrapping Scaramouche in his burrito blanket setup and turned towards the bathroom, "if that's what you'd like balladeer, I of course am a furnace in the cold, you're missing out!"
The faucet squeaks once more as Scaramouche cannot stop shivering, his teeth are clicking and chattering, he curled into himself and began rubbing his arms with his hands to generate warmth. It wasn't long before Childe's shower was finished, he set up his 'bed' on the ground and chuckled lightly at his companion shivering and chattering.
"You know... the offer is still there."
"No way in hell."
Childe shrugged and turned the lights out, he sat down on the floor, propping himself up against the edge of Scaramouche's bed. He was unsure how he was going to sleep with the bed shaking but managed to do so within the hour.
Scaramouche's shivering continued, he tucked the blanket into himself more. Nothing seemed to be helping him. The Balladeer sat up in bed, examining the room. He was able to see his breath, the windows were lined with ice and frost. His eyes toured to the foot of his bed, towards the ginger hair below him. How was he not cold!? Was Childe truly a furnace? Scaramouche's hand reached for the cheek of the other harbinger. The heat surrounded his fingers and he withdrew them slowly.
"I can't believe I'm about to do this..." he muttered, he took himself out of his bed and maneuvered himself into Childe's lap, hoping not to wake his fellow Harbinger. Being a Harbinger you were generally advised to sleep lightly, it could get you killed otherwise. Childe's eyes snapped open to see disheveled Scaramouche in his lap, "Scara..?"
The smaller harbinger sighed, "I.. it's frigid. I'm freezing."
Childe snaked his arms around The Balladeer's back and lifted him in his blanket, carrying him back to his bed. "I won't say I told you so but..."
"Shut it."
Childe began to run his fingers through Scaramouche's hair, "haha alright, I'll stop teasing you." It wasn't Scaramouche's fault he could not generate his own heat — he is a puppet after all. He set The Balladeer onto the bed, his arms loosely hanging onto Childe's neck. Half lidded eyelashes brushing against the gingers shirt, Scaramouche eyes flickered above him, it was clear he was exhausted from the day and from shivering all night.
Childe maneuvered himself next to his companion, shifting the Balladeer's arms onto his own lower back, and pressed the other further into his chest.
"I'll make sure you stay warm tonight." He pressed his lips onto Scaramouche's forehead, "I promise."
Shortly after Scaramouche tightened the grip onto Tartaglia's back, drifting off into a deep sleep.
"Goodnight Scaramouche."