Work Text:
Over the years, it had become a habit for Lumine to kick off her boots when entering her Teapot’s manor and throw them in a corner, the clattering muffled against the wall. Likewise, it had become a habit for the Wanderer to straighten her boots and lay his sandals off to the side. There hadn’t always been a need for him to tidy up her entryway; Lumine was hardly the careless type. But over time, their schedules seemed to intertwine. Once their shoes were off and put away, it was routine for Lumine to wander to her bedroom and peel off each bit of armor she had no use for in the safety of her home while he watched, silently removing his own armguards and kyahan to set by the drawer. They were predictable, these habits. Wanderer wasn’t sure when he had become a part of them.
“What’re we thinking for dinner?” Lumine asked, strolling to the kitchen with Paimon by her side. Wanderer lingered by the bedroom’s doorway, only following once the pair disappeared around the corner.
It hadn’t been easy, acclimating to this routine. In his early days, he’d insisted on cooking every time he was invited inside, whether it was for a few hours or overnight. “I have no need for food,” he’d insisted, “so take this chance to relax and let me handle the cooking.” They’d protested at first, especially the pixie; with a stomach the size of a black hole, she couldn’t afford to waste food mishandled by a puppet who didn’t know the first thing about hunger. Her worries were quickly resolved once he set the first dish in front of her, and after some time, she’d even beg Lumine to let him handle dinner for the night. Even without a stomach to eat, he had to admit, her praise certainly fed his ego. Perhaps it was for the best that these days, the chores had become more evenly split.
“You know my preferences,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.
His answer was always the same, and though the contents differed based on her mood, Paimon’s answer too was the same every night: a long list rattled off like a child too small to contain her excitement.
With plenty of suggestions to use, Lumine hummed a small tune as she set about finding the ingredients in her pantry, setting them down on the counter once satisfied. Wanderer leaned against the entryway. Even outside of battle, Lumine always moved with confidence and grace, every step taken with mindless precision. He knew she had her worries, so how was it that everything she did looked so carefree?
Without saying a word, he moved to stand beside her, their rhythm perfectly matched as they began to chop the carrots and potatoes she’d set out only a minute prior.
“It’s my turn to make dinner, remember?”
“Let me help,” he murmured, his voice unusually quiet. If he had to beg for the chance to repay some of his debt to her, did it really count?
Lumine seemed to understand and divided her pile of ingredients in half. She had always been like this, even from the beginning. Accommodating, kind, understanding . It had burned at first, when he was still trying to sort his fake memories from the originals, and yet there she was, looking at him with an expression he didn’t recognize from either lifetime. She should have hated him, that much he remembered, even if sometimes the specifics were a bit blurry back then. Maybe he hated her, with her golden radiance, the audacity to think even he deserved kindness. He’d rather have crawled back to the Abyss than take what she didn’t realize she was offering.
But then again, she did know, didn’t she?
“I’ll focus on dessert if you want to get the main course finished?”
Shouldn’t a star have a voice that’s unreachable? And yet, her tone was always so grounding, pulling him back to the present too easily for his liking. He stoked the flames of the stove higher, bringing his soup to a boil. Had she given him the easier task on purpose? It sounded like her. But as she began to hum an unfamiliar tune, focused solely on whisking some dessert that would likely turn out just right even for his tastes, he found he couldn’t believe she’d conspire about anything, even if it was just chores and it was to his benefit. Maybe she just wanted his company.
It was almost impossible to imagine.
“Next time, we should try to find some hidden treasure! Paimon knows you still have some maps we haven’t looked at yet!”
Dinner was always a lively affair, but not in the way that the Harbingers’ banquets used to be. Those dinners were filled with energy too, but it was used solely in an effort to undermine everyone else present. Dinner had been a type of competition, back then. If he successfully diverted the unfavorable missions to his least favorite co-workers and managed to get some desirable work instead? He’d win. Extra points were awarded if someone managed to send Tartaglia off to the farthest corner of Teyvat.
There was nothing competitive about his dinners with Lumine, unless, of course, he counted trying to survive Paimon’s rambling. But even that was too easy these days to really compare.
“Or we could find a camp of treasure hoarders. They’ve done all the work already, and they’re nothing when it comes to a serious fight.”
“Paimon guesses they would have a lot of sparkly treasures… Hey! No, that’s not the point! Don’t try and trick Paimon into doing your evil schemes!!”
He chuckled, ducking his head to avoid a nasty glare from the fairy. “I just thought I’d offer up a plan that saves you most of the effort. Nothing evil about it.”
Lumine grinned as Paimon launched into a fiery discussion about the proper procedure of adventurers, and how the places in which she liked to routinely bend the rules simply weren’t the same. Though all was promptly forgiven when he slid another bowl of soup, filled with extra meat, her way. There were times when he appreciated her simplicity.
“I don’t see the harm in a little treasure hunting,” Lumine said, wiping her lips with a finger. Done by anyone else, he’d say it was undignified. “Do you think you’ll tag along?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
These days, when was he not following her around? It would’ve been more efficient to ask if he ever planned on leaving.
The rest of dinner followed their familiar routine, in which Lumine and Paimon chattered about past and future adventures, while he watched, lost in thought. How was it that even when he said nothing, he still felt a part of the conversation? A part of their group, even. The thought made him grin, and it wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back his laughter. Even if they couldn’t possibly read his mind, the pair eventually laughed alongside him, and a smooth hand came to rest across his palm. He gripped it tightly, his elation simmering down to embers in his chest.
After dinner, since both did the cooking, Wanderer and Lumine did the dishes, their shoulders bumping together as they scrubbed away stains that were far too stubborn to be natural. He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed, with Lumine right by his side. Some part of him almost craved the tiniest amount of contact she was offering. His past self would have been sick, really. Touch and connection brought nothing but pain. But did it truly? His fingers tapped against one of her plates, trying to remember the last time he had felt even remotely hurt by Lumine.
Maybe it was one month ago, when she’d grazed him during combat with some of the flames she was still learning to wield. But really, the look she gave him hurt more. She knew he’d been to the Abyss and back, been flayed open on Dottore’s table again and again, and yet, one tiny burn was enough to wrinkle her golden eyes. How had he ever tried to kill her when now, just a look of concern was enough to feel as if he was being consumed by flames once more? But the sense of loss he’d always felt before didn’t seem to come to him that time. Instead, his chest felt heavy, as if Lumine had opened him up and crawled inside, her fingers grasping for anything she could pretend was a heart.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Lumine murmured. “Is something on your mind?”
Just you. Always you. But instead, he shook his head and reached for the nearest towel to dry his hands. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
“I’m always worried when it’s you.”
He shot her a glare, though she only chuckled. “Sorry, that came out wrong. It’s just that you’re important to me. And I like hearing your thoughts.”
He hummed in nonresponse. Maybe someday he’d tell her how much it hurt to look at her, straining his eyes as if he was staring into the sun itself. How every time she brushed against his shoulder or cradled his palm, it felt like being burned alive. How could he explain that he longed for that kind of pain, that he liked the suffering she put him through, when in her mind, she thought he was helping him?
She deserved the truth, but he didn’t think he could survive the sadness he’d bring to her eyes.
Lumine eventually dropped the topic, merciful and merciless in her understanding of his moods. Instead, with the sun long settled under the horizon and the last of the chores checked off her list, she dragged him to her bedroom. Paimon was already asleep in another bed in the corner of the room, crafted for someone her size. As he stripped down to his bodysuit, Lumine crawled under the covers, pulling the blankets up to her chin. When he’d apparently stared for long enough, she pulled the blankets off his side and wiggled her fingers. For a being who’d witnessed the births and deaths of stars, she still caught him off guard with how childish she could be.
It was impossible to fight a small grin when Lumine immediately curled up next to his side, hardly giving him time to settle into the mattress.
“Impatience isn’t a good look for you, Lumine.”
“C’mon, it’s obvious you like this,” she cooed, wrapping an arm over his shoulder and shifting so she was spooning him. Her fingertips trailed across his chest, her nails just long enough to press against his skin but not too long to scratch, before her hand stilled against his left side, just above where his Vision would normally rest. Her touch was too light and delicate for it to be comfortable, yet he shifted closer all the same.
“Maybe I’m just tired of refusing your whims. Have you considered that?”
She sighed, slotting a leg between his and dipping her forehead to the back of his neck. He could feel her breath against his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate the sensation. Not when the warmth was spreading from his neck to his face to his chest, until it was all encompassing. He would gladly burn to ash in her warmth, if only she asked.
“I’ve considered it, and I think you like being cuddled. You just don’t want to admit it.” She was going to be stubborn about this. If they stayed like that all night, would they fuse together and become one? That was fine by him.
He didn’t give a reply, staying within her embrace an answer within itself. The feeling of her breath had long settled in the back of his mind, so he didn’t realize her intentions until her lips met his neck, and though he couldn’t see it, he knew she had kissed the electro sigil between his neck and shoulders. She had developed a quiet fascination with it since their relationship had grown. He had asked about it once, and she only said it reminded her of himself. He had wanted to chide her, then. How could a reminder that he was once nothing but a tool to be discarded be looked upon favorably by someone who claimed to love him? She couldn’t even argue it was a feature unique only to him, as surely the Shogun had one too.
He had kept his thoughts to himself then, unwilling to break her delusions, if just for a moment. She was smart; she’d realize the truth for herself, eventually. And maybe she had, though not in the way he had expected. Her fixation on the sigil remained—would always remain, he feared—but she developed new curiosities too. At first it was the red over his eyes, and she’d take any chance she could find to kiss his eyelids, each one by one. Then it was hands. She spent weeks tracing the outlines of his palms, holding them in an embrace only once satisfied. Then it was his chest, then his wrists, then his hips, ankles, and even his kneecaps at one point. Unable to keep silent about her indulgences, he had asked her what she found so special about such unassuming parts of his body. She had shrugged, and said she wanted to memorize each detail of his being, inside and out. He had worried briefly that this was a warning; why memorize something if you planned to keep it by your side? But she held him then was the way he was being held now, so close that it would take the full force of Celestia to separate them. Given the way his luck had worked out in life so far, he didn’t write such a thing off as impossible just yet.
“Do you really not want to talk about what’s on your mind?” Lumine murmured softly. She knew he would have just confessed by now if it wasn’t important, but he knew she’d drop it if he asked.
“Why do you keep me around?” A question for a question was selfish, but what was this relationship if not selfish? He knew he was only bringing his doubts back to the surface for her reassurance, but it was addicting in its pain. Her words always went against the world he told himself was true, and yet, he found he needed them more than almost anything else in the world. He only questioned if it was despite their pain or because of it.
She must have known his intentions, and yet, she answered anyway. “That’s obvious. Because I love you.”
He scoffed quietly, disbelief the first reaction to take root. Cold air enveloped his back as he felt Lumine shift away.
“Come on, why don’t you tell me what’s this really about?” Her hand rested against his pillow, too uncertain to touch him. He shifted, pressing her palm under his cheek.
Words crawled under his skin, pressing up underneath his tongue. He could make her hate him, if he tried. He didn’t understand why, after years, the impulse still lingered. Was it the familiarity he craved? But these days, he was far more accustomed to her softness than her anger. Maybe it was the control he missed, and yet, she was never more unpredictable than when she was his enemy, compared to these routines he had wormed himself into.
He closed his eyes, a breath resting against her wrist. Maybe it had nothing to do with Lumine at all. Of course, it was Lumine’s kindness—Lumine’s perfection —that set him off. How she was so confident in her inhumanity, how at home in her own body she could be. But more than that, it was her eyes. She looked at him like a friend, a partner, a lover, and why wouldn’t she? Wasn’t that what they were? If she was with anyone else, it wouldn’t be questioned, but there was something, even after all this time, that was unequivocally wrong with that gaze being reserved for him. When had he ever been looked at like that? Five hundred years since his mother even dreamed of making a puppet, and he couldn’t recall a single time. He’d had a family once, sure, had even occasionally taken lovers later on, but none of them looked at him like they could see beyond his self and see him .
Once, when he traveled too far into the Abyss, he had come across a pool that looked like the night sky, darker than midnight and shimmering with marrow from those unfortunate enough to fall in. By then, most of his body was in dire need of repairs, so when he stumbled, he only closed his eyes and prepared for maybe, finally, hopefully experiencing an end to his existence. Instead, the pool made its way down his throat, sloshing inside his hollow chest. It burned from the inside, but worse, he could feel it crawling around his void, as if it was more alive than he was. Whatever it was looking for, inside his chest, his arms, his legs, his head, it went unfound.
It felt almost unreasonable that Lumine could see anything other than that when she looked at him.
“Do you want the truth?” He finally asked.
Lumine nodded, pressing her free hand against his palm. He squeezed.
“I can’t stand it when you look at me. It’s unnatural, the same way a puppet was never supposed to play house. Everything about you hurts, but I don’t think I could pick myself up again if you left.”
He could hear Lumine’s breath still, even if it wasn’t the first time they’d been through this.
“And if you left me?”
He just laughed, and the pair went silent. Eventually, she pulled her hand from underneath his cheek and settled against his chest.
“Do I really make you miserable?”
“I don’t know.” He brought his hand to her hair, fingers spread between the strands. In the moonlight, they almost looked silver. “I don’t understand it.”
It was a few moments before Lumine answered, her voice unusually hesitant. “Nahida told me, once, that sometimes people crave things that are bad for them, because that’s what they’re used to. And being in a healthy environment is so out of their comfort zone that they try to avoid it.”
He laughed. “So you’re finally admitting I’m damaged. I didn’t realize you had it in you.”
“I’m saying that I need you to figure out if it hurts because we’re bad for each other, or if you’re not used to a relationship like ours. In the meantime, I’ll be here. With you.”
The words stuck in his throat finally seemed to fade as he went silent. When explained like that, the answer was obvious.
“I don’t think you could be bad for anyone if you tried.”
“I don’t know, I’m sure I’ve ruined someone’s life.” Feeling more confident, her lips curled into a grin. “Someone in the Fatui’s gotta be worse off because of me.”
“They deserved it for joining a group so idiotic.”
They chuckled quietly, their laughter fading into something more uncomfortable. There was still more to say, and both knew it.
“Can I ask something of you?”
“Anything.” He’d never meant something more in his life.
Lumine took a breath, not exactly hesitating, but weighing her words against her lips. “I need you to stop letting things like this fester so badly. And I need you to stop using me as a punishment. If I’m hurting you, tell me. We can figure something out together, or even if you need some time alone, I’ll still be here when you’re feeling better.”
Before he could argue, she continued. “I’m not upset, I just… I don’t want to hurt you. Even if you want me to.”
“You know me too well, Lumine,” he sighed, reaching for her hand. “If it’s what you want, I’ll work on it. But it won’t be easy.”
“I know.”
“This won’t change who I am.”
“I hope it won’t.”
“And this likely won’t be the last conversation we have like this.”
“That’s ok.”
He sighed, sitting up with his back slouched. “You really think this is acceptable?”
She looked up, her eyes flashing in the moonlight. “Are you doing it on purpose?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“Then it’s not a big deal. You’ve already improved a lot since we met, even if it’s hard to see. I know you’ll keep getting better as time goes on, too. I’m not expecting you to be perfect. Ok?”
Feeling a small tug on his elbow, he laid back down and tried to close his eyes, Lumine wrapping an arm over him once more.
“I’ll try,” he whispered, almost hoping it would be too quiet for anyone to hear. There were still feelings left writhing inside his mind, but for tonight, it was progress.
With nothing else left to say, he turned to his side, looking back around with a questioning gaze when she didn’t pull him to her chest like she normally did.
Lumine chuckled and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, holding him in her arms. “I knew you liked being the little spoon.”