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“What are you wearing?”
Childe turned, cocking his head slightly in a way that reminded Diluc of his bird. He looked down at himself, brushing his hands over his apron.
“We’re cooking, can’t i wear my apron?”
Diluc snorted. “It’s pink.”
“Yes.”
Diluc looked Childe up and down, desperately trying to keep a straight face. “It has lace on it.”
Childe scoffed, turning back to begin reaching for spices he wanted from the shelf. “That doesn’t make it work less. Now light the stove.”
Diluc smiled fondly, sighing and shaking his head. “Yes, dear.” He removed his gloves and summoned a small flame into the palm of his hand, carefully lighting a small fire at the hearth.
He wasn’t entirely sure what they were making, just that Childe had spent the last two days down by the riverbank, waiting for what he called “the perfect victim”. A little morbid in Diluc’s opinion, but his lover’s violent streak often extended to his other passions, be it brutal spear fishing or the harsh way he would dig his blade when whittling small toys and trinkets for his siblings. He’d made a few for Diluc, too, a little owl and a narwhal that sat together on the desk in his office. If any of his staff had noticed, they hadn’t said a word. (Nothing was exchanged beyond small smiles, barely hidden behind their hands.)
Blinking himself out of his daze, Diluc’s head swam with dizziness as Childe began to dart across the room, between places on the workbench and the table, moving his ingredients around into the order he wanted them and leaving himself ample space to work with. Diluc liked to see him like this, relaxed and in his element, but still working with his usual military grade precision, something they both appreciated. Diluc slouched his shoulders and leaned back to watch the show, as Childe began to tighten his apron, roll up his sleeves and tuck the curling wisps of hair out of his face. The redhead smiled, spotting his opening. He scooted himself closer, running his gloveless hand through Childe’s hair and wrapping the other around his waist, placing small kisses over his cheek and under his ear. Childe sighed, relaxed and heavy, indulging for just a moment before he began to swat Diluc away, claiming they “had to hurry up”. Diluc just smiled, content to go along with most anything to keep the ginger happy.
“Right.” Childe clapped his hands together, gazing at the ingredients set out. An excited glint flashed in his eyes, akin to the hunger before a battle. “I’ll tackle the crab, but you, mister nobleman, are going to have to cut the vegetables. Can you handle that?”
Diluc scoffed. “Do you take me for a child? I can look after myself, you know.”
“With all the help you keep around here, you sure had me fooled.”
Diluc gasped in mock horror, poking Childe in the ribs until he squirmed away, ticklish. “I’ll prove it to you.“ He smirked, and turned his back, set on his (admittedly rather simple) task.
Childe breathed a small sigh of relief, a wash of gentle happiness embracing him like the warmth of Diluc’s pyro vision. He returned to his own station, more than content to be the one to hack away at the crab’s tough shell.
-
“Hey.” Lost in thought, Childe jolted to attention when he felt warm hands on his waist. Then, something was held up near his face, and he pushed the hand back so he could get a better look.
Diluc had cut the carrots into stars. Little tiny star shapes covered the board. It was utterly adorable, and seeing Diluc smile so widely while showing off his handiwork was possibly even cuter. He held it up to Childe’s lips, unrelenting until the other finally gave in and let him pop it in his mouth.
Diluc’s smile could rival the sun. His whole face lifted, eyes crinkling at the corners, nose scrunching up in a way that made him so eye-catching, so damn beautiful. It made Childe’s heart stutter in his chest, totally captivated in the moment, gazing at his lover. Diluc’s arms laced around his hips, and Childe moved to place his shaking hands on Diluc’s shoulders. “Did you chop the lilies too?” He whispered. Diluc didn’t answer, choosing to push forward and press Childe into the counter with a kiss. Childe hummed into his mouth, questions forgotten as he dragged his hands up Diluc’s shoulders to tangle in his hair.
When they parted, a sly smile spread across Diluc’s face. He kissed Childe lightly on the nose, before turning back around and pretending to be engrossed in his own work, as if he wasn’t the distracting one. Attempting to collect his thoughts, Childe shook his head and moved to slice the octopus he had caught. He grinned at the sight of it, fascinated with the deep colour. He was certain it would complete the dish, his “prize catch”.
-
Much later, once they had both finished preparing their ingredients, and Childe had explained three times over the importance of heating a soup slowly over a low flame rather than letting Diluc boil the pot with his bare hands, they stood in comfortable silence while Childe stirred. Diluc returned to his position cuddling into Childe from behind, head heavy on his shoulder, occasionally pressing feather-light kisses to the back of his neck, while wandering hands toyed with the strings of his apron.
Childe hummed to himself, an old Snezhnayan folk song about keeping warm during a storm. He relished in the heat Diluc provided, leaning back and enjoying how Diluc curled his face further into the crook of his neck. Diluc’s eyelashes fluttered on his skin, making him flinch from the ticklish sensation. Diluc laughed, a deep rumble in his chest that Childe so adored, and pressed a kiss to the same spot on his neck.
“I love you.”
Childe huffed a small laugh, setting the spoon down so he could turn to hug Diluc properly, tucking his head under his chin and gleefully relishing in his slight height advantage. Diluc’s strong arms squeezed him, and he couldn’t think of the last time he felt so warm, and happy, and safe.
“I love you too, my firefly.”
The soup began to bubble, signalling to Childe that it was done. Smiling to himself, he formed a small fish using his vision, and let it swim over Diluc’s flame, before popping like a bubble and extinguishing the stove. Snatching a spoon from the table, Childe scooped up some of the broth and held it up for Diluc to get a taste.
Diluc stared at him.
“This isn’t a soup spoon.”
“Oh, you-“ Childe shoved the spoon into Diluc’s mouth, not caring about the temperature when he knew the pyro vision bearer would be unfazed. Diluc pulled a face, knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Suddenly Childe was overwhelmed with worry, that he wasn’t up to standard, that Diluc would hate it, that Diluc would hate him, somehow.
“So?”
Diluc raised his head, staring Childe straight in the eye.
“I love it.” A mischievous smile broke out on Diluc’s face, eyes twinkling like fallen stars. The pit in Childe’s stomach bloomed like a flower, overwhelmed with love for this perfect, perfect man.
“Really?” Diluc cupped his chin with his hands, drawing their lips closer together.
“Of course.”