Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aether and Paimon were used to travelling all by themselves, sometimes crossing paths with old friends, but it had been a long time since they travelled for real with someone else.

When they spent days with other people, it was either because of a mission or festivities like the Lantern Rite in Liyue.

However, after their fight against Scaramouche, the recovery of Irminsul, and Scaramouche’s rescue, Aether knew the current of his life would change a lot.

Or perhaps, he was just afraid of changes.

In any way, he expected it when he saw the Wanderer at the foot of his door. He had given him a seal pass when they discussed with Nahida three months ago, allowing him to come however he pleased in his Serenitea.

It was a questionable action - regarding their history - but Aether did not think much of it. He knew how hard it would be to get news from him if he did not do it.

Nahida convinced Aether and Paimon that the Wanderer could be a great companion.

And Aether did not deny it: he wanted to get to know the brand-new Wanderer.

However, when he recognized his former nemesis, his greetings were not one of the warmest he ever gave, simply walking up to him and waving his hand.

Today had been draining his energy, so even though he liked the new company, he mostly needed rest at once.

But the other man did not seem to mind. Maybe he is used to silence after travelling alone for months, Aether thought.

Once they were close enough to hold a proper conversation, the newcomer smiled – smirked – and teased the other:

“Long time no see, outlander.”

Aether frowned when hearing this name. It sounded more distant than anything.

But he did not have the energy to argue, so he kept his discomfort hidden.

Or so he thought.

The other dropped his taunting expression and sighed:

“Even now, I still don’t know whether you struggle to understand a joke or you’re just not funny.”

Aether could not mask his fatigue and just shrugged, answering:

“Even I don’t have a clue, dude.”

He did not know what to do now, stuck for a few milliseconds. Paimon intervened, at last, exclaiming:

“Paimon is so tired from our commissions. Let’s go eat a good meal and rest.”

The blonde nodded and looked up at his new guest. The latter’s eyes were looking up and down at the traveller form. His body stopped moving like his attention was drawn out of the realm when exchanging a look with the other man.

He absentmindedly told Paimon to go rest while he prepared the meal, the fairy understood the sudden mood change and just acquiesced before calmly floating away.

In the end, only the two men were there, carefully analyzing the mood they were stuck in.

Aether was conscious of his struggles at reading an atmosphere and accepted it. But at times like this, he kept on forcing his limits to stretch – not to avail. When he felt too out of it, he quieted down his anxiety and looked at the person in front of him.

He still had to get used to his new identity. But looking at his eyes, he got a sense of familiarity, which - he would not say it aloud – calmed the race of his thoughts a little.

After what felt like an eternity – a dozen seconds – Scaramouche spoke up: “You’re funny.”

Aether has heard it many times before, but his tone did not let any appreciation out: he was not complimenting him but making fun of him.

Coming to this realization, Aether suddenly felt his energy evaporate. His facial expression blanked out, and he answered with a small voice:

“You can come in; I’ll cook for all of us.”

His sister was also a teaser, except the Wanderer jokes looked like attacks. He had a habit of how to deal with it: moving on.

After coming into his mansion, Aether went to grab a light blanket, a better way for warming himself than a sweater and went into his kitchen.

Someone of his height surprised him, staying in front of his food container. Scaramouche spoke up, his back still partly facing him:

“You don’t have much for three people. I’m hungry too.”

Coming closer to another corner of the room, Aether opened another container.

“What you’re looking at is a gift, but I don’t plan on eating it. It was for Paimon, but you can eat it if you want.”

The plate looked bland: Aether was not thrilled by it, nor was Paimon. Surprisingly, the puppet accepted it.

“Sure, I’ll take it.”

One hour later, they had eaten their meal. Their interactions were short: On one hand, Paimon and the Wanderer were still not at ease with each other, and Aether was tired. He could not wait to go to his bedroom and get a well-deserved rest.

But he could not go before showing a room to his guest, so he walked up to him – who busied himself with fixing a slight rip on his sleeve – and asked:

“I can show you a bedroom to sleep in if you want to stay the night.”

Despite his offer, Scaramouche was so focused that Aether got no response. Usually, Aether would be patient, waiting patiently for the other to finish his task before continuing.

But Aether was tired, and wanted to rest, even though this Scaramouche was easier to talk to.

It felt novel in a good way, but not all the time. Just like now.

Fortunately, Scaramouche finished his task a few seconds later – just in time before Aether’s reaction was to be shown – and muttered, adding a comment: “Mh, I’m too tired to build a campsite anyways.”

He got up from the couch he was sitting on, and Aether showed him to a room upstairs.

They got in, Aether waited for a comment – of displeasure or disapproval as usual – but for the second time tonight, his thoughts were proven wrong when the Wanderer nodded.

Maybe Scaramouche truly improved his conversational skills during those three months, Aether pondered.

Once again tonight, Aether let his gaze rest on the Wanderer’s face while spacing out: which the puppet noticed instantly.

In fact, Aether was proven wrong thrice since the puppet’s arrival: it was not that he was bad at reading atmospheres when he did not understand the mood between them; anyone would struggle. Their relationship was so strange that no one would know for sure, including themselves.

Realizing the complexity of it, Scaramouche stopped pushing his brain’s limits and cleared his throat. The blonde copied him, embarrassed, and murmured a “goodnight” before fleeing to his bedroom.

Today had been quite an emotional rollercoaster. He could enjoy the quiet and the comfort of his bed at last.

~ :3 ~

Scaramouche noticed a few things about Aether that could only be experienced after spending his daily life with him. Firstly, he rarely spoke whenever he did commissions for people unfamiliar to him, usually interacting with his gesture. Secondly, on the contrary, whenever he was at ease – he even could in the company of the Wanderer sometimes – the twin could ramble with such enthusiasm about anecdotes of his sister. And thirdly, he was used to isolating himself for a few hours after a day of work. Paimon never complained, but Scaramouche thought it was interesting.

And whenever he took an interest in something, he had a strange way of showing it: tease someone about it.

And obviously, Aether was to be his target. After spending time together – generally used at joking sarcastically or sulking than correctly conversing - for some weeks now, the traveller understood it was his unusual way of showing his easiness with someone. It made him smile at night, away from the other’s sharp eyes.

The blonde felt himself growing less sensitive to the other’s mocking jokes. It still bugged him, but he thought less of it; it was a gradual process, but they grew more comfortable with each other. Even though the Wanderer’s personality was difficult to stand, Aether was patient, and they could sometimes talk without doubting the other’s actions or words.

Aether’s patience and generosity were among the things that angered the puppet the most: he did not grasp the logic of it. He felt powerless whenever he was seriously irritated at Aether, and the latter stood not too far away from him, waiting for more.

Right, there also was his ability to manage his relationships healthily. Whenever they argued – a usual occurrence – they would go their separate ways for a few hours before Aether magically found his spot and calmly talked about his perception of their arguments: it was well-detailed, expressing his emotions and beliefs.

The puppet hated to admit it: it put him at such ease, still irritated but letting go of his grudges as the other’s monologue continued.

He still did not believe in Aether’s genuine benevolence. How could he consider another life: in which they could act as carefree comrades? Scaramouche was irked every time this word crossed his mind. It sounded so silly, so naïve.

But companions sounded too close, too intimate for them. The Wanderer did many immoral things in life – mainly as the Balladeer – but he still had reservations, some deeply ingrained in his mind.

One of them was not to be carried away in relationships. After erasing all memories linked to his past life in Irminsul, he wandered in Teyvat, in quest of growth. He knew he lacked a lot in social skills, grew distrustful to an unimaginable point, and could in no way grow bonds with anyone.

Aether was no exception; Scaramouche was still wary of engagement – even just as a friend. But while he wandered alone, the only one he was still in contact with was Nahida, so he unwillingly depended on her and her wisdom. Due to her understanding of his complex character, she was able to somewhat clear some shadows in his heart. With his newly acquired knowledge, he learned not to overthink about labelling things, leaving him a little bit of peace of mind and a sense of freedom. He thus avoided paying any mind about the current their link was diving in and was able to enjoy their time spent together.

Aether realized it when they once argued – a big argument that lasted days and not only hours like they were used to – about them.

The room was filled with emotions: one was agitated, another lost, and the last dejected. The silence after the storm was deafening, so one just walked away while the other two were shell-shocked.

Aether spent an awful night after this: shaking and crying in anxiety, exhausted from the burst of emotions, he barely slept and cancelled his commissions. Paimon was worried, but it was not the first time: she experienced it for the first time - right after the death of Teppei and his encounter with the Balladeer - when he woke up in the Narukami Shrine. Paimon looked so stressed by Aether's demeanour. Yae Miko thought he was controlled by an evil spirit. At last, Aether was brought to a quiet place and regained some of his usual composure.

The fairy was utterly lost. When she saw his tensed expression while laboriously breathing, she felt such exhaustion coming from him that it broke her heart.

After all the events in Inazuma, Aether was finally open to the discussion, and Paimon never heard him talk so much than when he tried to explain the weight of all the stimuli on his shoulders, added to the stressful events that fell upon him every time he stepped towards the archons of each nation.

Since their first discussion about it, Paimon felt Aether growing more relaxed in their daily life. His interactions grew: Aether felt he could reveal a bit more about himself – due to the difficulty of showing such a “shadow” of his health.

That was one of the reasons why Aether did not plan on travelling with someone else. He knew that showing such a part of himself - considering he had many enemies in this world - could lead him to death’s doors in a wink of an eye.

Yet, Paimon did not see much reluctance in him whenever Scaramouche came to his Teapot for dinner or when he joined them – from who knows where – for commissions or quests. It became a habit, to Paimon’s dismay.

But she smiled whenever she saw a genuine smile on Aether’s face about whatever the Wanderer could say.

She did not like Scaramouche; however, there was something in their interactions she could not grasp that made Aether grow up in a good way. Even though he stood firm on his principles, he was more understanding. His speech felt more genuine as Paimon noticed similarities in his jokes and his pragmatism to the puppet’s.

The Wanderer was not a good person, but the fairy had to admit it: Aether and he were more compatible than everyone thought.

Chapter Text

Tighnari was right: the desert is too hostile for non-experienced people like them. One second of inattention and scorpions would jump to their faces, or aggressive mercenaries would jump to their throats.

Paimon talked a bit less than usual, the only sounds that went out of Aether’s mouth were of panting, and Scaramouche was even more silent. The technology of his body was highly advanced, but his skin could not stand as long as humans. So he had to reduce some other functions to keep it functioning as long as he could and selectively chose to slow his breathing to an unnatural level.

It would have been scary for most people, but Aether’s own body was not exactly like a human’s too, despite not having the same restrictions as the puppet’s. So, he paid no mind to the technical part.

However, as they walked more and more, his uneasiness grew abruptly high when he took his hair to make it into a ponytail, only to get even more sand in his boots.

It only had been a dozen minutes since they exited Aaru village, but the blonde could barely hold up his irritation, as he knew that letting himself go could lead him to a trap straight away.

Finally, after climbing a sand hill, they found a cave hundreds of meters away.
Paimon rejoiced as she flew toward it. Aether was overjoyed but turned around when he heard no response from the puppet. Thankfully, he was right beside him, feeling all right, except that his veil bought in the village went from his shirt to his eyes. Aether would find it funny if he were not gradually growing overwhelmed by all the stimuli on his skin.

And the Wanderer noticed it when his gaze met the other.
“Something’s wrong?”

Aether never let the puppet see him whenever he felt this bad – except that one time, but it was more of pure anger than of overload of stress – so it was no wonder he would not know for sure.

Despite this, Aether did not have the energy to conceal it, so his tone was colder than usual.
“I officially hate hot environments… and sand.”

In the corner of his mind, Aether thought: I’ll explain later I’m not angry at him, hope he won’t mind too much.

By the time they exchanged those two single lines, Paimon had cut them when she pushed them.

Aether let Scaramouche walk ahead of him, two steps apart. They unconsciously sped up when Paimon arrived in the slightly fresher environment, benefiting the shadows of the entrance.
At the top of the last sand hill, Scaramouche walked down tactically and rapidly until he noticed there were sounds of fighting behind his head.

He instantly turned around and saw the blonde slash a violent scorpion. It was much bigger than the ones they saw on the way and was affected by electro-power.

But what caught his sight was Aether’s form stumbling over it, losing his footing and falling to the ground.

While rolling around and protecting the back of his head with his hands, Scaramouche hurriedly caught him.

“Are you hurt?” He asked with a slightly higher tone than usual.

Aether was right in his arms, with no blood in sight, but paralyzed. Not getting any response worrying the puppet even more, he tried to hold Aether up to look at his face, but he forced his head down.

Scaramouche’s body tensed up in anger before he could feel the blonde gradually trembling. He kept his mouth shut, waiting for the current of things, and he felt the other crouch down.
He kept his hold on the other’s upper arms and tried to look for any wound on him.
The Wanderer was shell-shocked when he felt his trembling growing and heard the other’s tears, his ragged breath.

He saw some of his memories when they connected their consciousnesses: his fights with Childe, when the Raiden Shogun almost slashed him in the back, and when he was shot against the mountain when fighting the Osial the second time.
Just like when he woke up in the Narukami Shrine, he was distressed. Scaramouche had forgotten most of his time as a “god.” So this slipped from his memory.
Yet, despite this knowledge, he did not know what caused it and how to resolve it. Nothing correlated to that time: they were in a scorching desert, no one was hurt or dead, and how dumb would it be to feel so dreadful after fighting a single scorpion?

Lost, the puppet could only hold the traveller by his arms while he looked so desperate.

That is until Paimon popped up right next to them and spoke to Scaramouche in a hurried tone: “Bring him to the cave. He won’t calm down until he’s freed of all the stimuli.”

The Wanderer knew about this condition – when the brain could not function normally if put under a lot of pressure – so he knew it was not some temporary bullshit.
His hand grasped his arm, and he tried to lift him from the ground, but he would not move. Irritation slowly rose in his chest, but he suppressed it.
Distressed, Aether began to cough; the Wanderer unconsciously acted and carried him to the cave.

This situation was so new to him: his reactions left him dumbfounded.
It’s not like he wanted to carry him, to help him; he acted in the heat of the moment, and it did not mean anything.

The puppet hurried to the cave, gradually stressing, and put the blonde down.
While he zoned out, Aether kept coughing – his bridal posture did not help. His tears kept on rolling down, and he did nothing to free himself from Scaramouche’s arms. His emotions were busting: he panicked because of the puppet’s silence and the stimuli that stuck to his body.
Internally, he was more ashamed than afraid. His body reacted against his own will: as if living the worst nightmare on Teyvat. But it was only sand and sweat. It was utterly shameful.
He stopped crying after a few minutes, only fidgeting to remove most of the sand in his clothes and hair.

Paimon slowly approached him and wanted to help him. But when her hands touched his back, he flinched and side-stepped. Aether felt terrible for reacting like this, but it was too much for him.
His brain was too busy mulling over the same things in a loop. Like how Scaramouche went silent ever since he talked to him harshly.

Aether did not forget about their history; he still struggled because of their different worldviews.
But over the last weeks, he grew and learned to listen to his stories and beliefs without triggering his strong principles. And that is an exploit considering his unyielding personality.

Before his epiphany, Scaramouche and he were destined to be nemeses: both were stubborn and still are nowadays. The only difference was in the clarity of the Wanderer's words; he was finally understandable.
Despite their past arguments, Aether grew trusting toward him. So, for him to see him in this state was one of the blonde's hidden fears.

After focusing on his breath, the traveller felt much better, and the storm passed. Except that he did not dare look in Scaramouche's direction.
Yet, this silence was too heavy on his shoulder, so he said:
"Sorry for all this, I... really don't like sand."

It was the first time he talked in a long time, so Paimon was shaken.
She came over and smacked his shoulder as she complained:
"You scared Paimon! Have you seen your fall?! I thought you got a hit on the head."
As an automatism, Aether smiled apologetically before he got up and turned toward the puppet.

The latter went into a corner after putting Aether to the ground and did not utter a sound.
His silence shook the traveller more than he wanted to admit. Whenever they argued, he at least accessed his thoughts. But whenever he sulked and did not want to talk to him, Aether did not know which foot to dance. So, he left him alone if he received a death glare and talked naturally if he only received an insult.

But this time was different: he saw him in such a state. How could he nonchalantly apologize for talking so harshly for no reason? How could he act as if it were nothing? The wanderer was not stupid: he knew something was up with him.

But all his thoughts were stopped when he heard his voice:
"Since when do you overthink this much about me? I'm not your enemy anymore. I... won't be disappointed in you that easily."

This was new. There was a novel gentleness in his words. Aether let out a sigh.
Only then did he realize the power Scaramouche's words had toward him.

He talked again: "Don't worry about unnecessary things. It's only natural to have fears."

His words were simple, but Aether felt understood, just like he did when they talked about their lives. Scaramouche had an odd way of comforting people, but it worked perfectly for Aether.
He started to see their similarities and did not deny it for once.

Facing a new asset of his, the blonde could not help but tease him.
He walked toward him, closing the distance until only two feet separated them and said:
"You're getting better at comforting people. I'm rooting for you."

He turned his back, but before he could get back, he felt his braid being pulled and heard the other's voice:
"I won't be so gentle next time you dare mock me like this."

Aether frowned, but he also felt satisfaction in this interaction. There was evolution.

Chapter Text

A regular day in the vicinity of Liyue Harbor.
Aether and Paimon travelled back to the nation to change sights and get news about their friends.
They patiently went to see most of their friends: most were busy with their daily lives, but some took time on their schedule to spend with them.
Despite breaking his habits - like coming home at noon - Aether did not mind much.

They came back to his teapot for dinner, and something unusual happened.
The wanderer stood at the front door, busying himself with a cat until he heard them.

His head shot up, and his gaze searched for Aether. When he did, he stood up, walked to him, and grabbed his waist before exiting the teapot.

The traveller was greatly surprised by many things: firstly, Scaramouche waited for them at this hour without entering the mansion; secondly, his daring moves - very shocking but not unwelcomed - and thirdly, the place where he took them.

The breeze was not harsh, the cold night was refreshing, and the landscape was beautiful.
They were on top of a hill surrounding the old Mondstadt, previously named the Stormterror's Lair.

Despite the view, Aether's thoughts were all directed toward the other man. The latter was beside him, his grasp not wavering, looking at the scenery. His facial expression did not express much except some tranquillity. So, Aether did not utter any sound.

It had been a few months since they buried the hatchet. They enjoyed spending time together - it could be discussing, chilling in silence, or doing commissions.
But ever since that time in the desert, their interactions changed a bit: they sat closer, their eyes lingered on each other, they argued less, and most importantly, they did not deny their ambiguous relationship.
It shocked many, but both knew better than to worry about outsiders' opinions. Even though their communication skills were to be discussed, they knew that each other worked for mutual growth.
Despite this, they did not discuss the matter seriously, busy enjoying their time together while they could. Thus, there was some strange nervosity and some unresolved frustrations between them.

Sat together on top of a hill, despite the gradually chilling breeze, Aether felt his heart miss a beat when he looked at the other's face.
He’s handsome, Aether thought.

Among the many secrets hidden in his heart - like his birth name Aether and his mental condition - he was aware of his controversial preferences in the romantic field.
There was so much diversity in Teyvat that he knew that from one person to another, this fact did not necessarily put him in danger. But he was still part of a minority, so he hid it. He felt attraction toward someone so rarely that it was not that hard anyway.

Therefore, whenever this kind of thought appeared in his mind, he denied them unconsciously at first. Yet, his hope did not flatter whenever he enjoyed his time with him. So instead of rejecting it, he considered a future in which his desires could be fulfilled.

Thus, he did not flinch in rejection when Scaramouche's hand went from his waist to his hand as they sat down. Blood surged in their cheeks when Aether returned his action.

That was cringe, but they loved the sensation it gave them, so they did not break the atmosphere.

While the blonde was content with the silence, the purple-haired man spoke up: "You're as aware as me about the ambiguity between us, are you?"

The traveller wanted to keep quiet and solely answer with a nod. But he realized the importance of this discussion, so he agreed vocally: "I am."
The tension in the puppet's grip lessened.

"Good."

Their reddened cheeks flushed hard when the wanderer took the opportunity to push the other's chest to the ground and climb on top of him.

The sight was too much to behold for both. One saw a confused face going blank when his gaze lowered on his face, his dishevelled hair and messy clothes, his own hands on his waist and beside his head. The other saw determination and tension in his eyes, his gaze going from his eyes to his lips, and the hesitation in his voice when he said: "You enjoy it, right?"

Aether would have found his hesitation cute if his expression did not make him weak in the legs.
Yet, he found the braveness to say: "What if I do?"

Instead of getting annoyed as usual, Scaramouche found the consent he needed before breaking his last barriers and kissing his lips. Milliseconds later, Aether responded as he got up to face him correctly.

The frustration between them disappeared as they enjoyed themselves, placing their hands elsewhere, deepening the kiss and looking at each other when they backed away to breathe.

Without going further, they looked at each other, praising each other with their eyes.

Eight months after reconciling, they shared a meaningful start for something new during a random night in Mondstadt, the nation of freedom.