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With Tartaglia, there is really no knowing when it will all go off on a sidetrack. There is only one thing to be sure of; that it will occur.
This time, when it happens, he is in Mondstadt. Dragonspine, to be more precise – though he should be collecting information in the corners of the city and stabilizing his reputation as the assigned Snezhnayan diplomat, he has run from the (literal) cage of the city and headed off into the mountains. He tried his best, really; kept himself neatly seated on that boring office chair and did his paperwork for three days, sneaked and snooped for two. On day five, he’d collected so much energy that it’d force its way out sooner or later if he didn’t find an outlet on his own.
So Dragonspine it is. He views his escape as a favor, really. If it wasn’t for the fact that they can’t keep an eye on him out here, he’d think the Knights of Favonius would view it as one, too – he has been careful to cause as little chaos as possible, but he feels the jittery gaze of the Acting Grandmaster. Whenever he meets her, she looks at him as if he is a ticking bomb. When he’s out here, she can no longer keep an eye on his timer, but at least the explosion will cause less damage when it happens.
–Childe’s not really here to explode, though. Spend energy, yes. Cause more trouble than he has to, no.
The decision to go out was an impulse, and so Childe is lightly dressed in the same informal uniform he normally wears: gray over a red undershirt, raised unnecessarily high by a corner of his lower stomach, sleeves short. Far too little fabric for the climate this area greets him with. Though he’d like to proclaim that ‘Dragonspine’s weather is nothing to a seasoned Snezhnayan’, it’s not like living in cold has made him one with it. He longs for the scarf he left in his hotel room.
Well, longed. Staying warm is no longer a problem once he’s gotten his limbs warmed up. Just from scanning the monster camps scattered nearest the main roads, it’s clear where Childe has and hasn’t been; splatters of blood lies on the snow like rose petals let go in the wind, and though he has tried to clean up after himself, irregularities in the terrain betray where bodies have been laid to rest. Childe’s knuckles are red, and he’s not quite sure whether it’s the cold, the blood, or the damage from punching a mitachurl with his bare fists. It’s not like it matters, anyway; he’s not queasy, nor is he weak to pain or frostbite.
He is weak to boredom, though. After a good half an hour, he has to acknowledge the knights do a stupidly good job of keeping this place safe for adventurers. Enemies become fewer the longer he’s present, and the average hilichurl isn’t even enough to keep him preoccupied for ten seconds. At some point, he grows so tired of the same ice-summoning samachurls that he ends up just– sitting down.
He chooses a spot by the southern part of the mountain, right where the ground descends into the sea. Someone has placed a wooden bridge that stretches a few meters into the ocean, and he’s placed himself by the end, legs dangling over the water and eyes fixed on the horizon. The sky is the same icy cold that he feels in his veins. If he strains his ears, he can just barely hear the ‘slosh’ of waves against the shore beneath the howling of the wind.
… He can’t help but be reminded of home.
He isn’t going back there anytime soon, though, so he lets the thought go as he skips a stone across the water. He counts five before it falls in, and then he reaches down to grab a second stone, suddenly compelled to see if he can beat it– he makes eight, this time, and smiles a little at himself.
“Well, well.”
When a voice suddenly breaks the silence, Childe is not surprised.
He heard it coming a minute ago; the soft crunch of soles against the snow, the change in the air that a breathing creature always brings with it. He’s been counting the seconds, relying on instinct to tell how far whatever person was from him– after all, there is no better weapon than letting an opponent think they have the element of surprise, only to reveal it’s always been in someone else's hands. Had this been an enemy, he would have enjoyed seeing the shock on their faces when he slowly turned, looking like someone greeting an invited guest.
But as soon as he hears the voice, Childe can’t help the way he cranes his neck to get a look.
“Look who’s fleeing from his duties.” When Childe squints and spots a face through the snowflakes, Kaeya is smiling. It’s a smug one; it always is, when it’s him. “You’re quite good at that,” the captain nods in his direction, and before he gets to question whether that is a compliment or an insult, he finishes: “at skipping, I mean.”
Kaeya keeps smirking, and Childe cannot stop his smile.
The Cavalry Captain is clad almost as stupidly as himself. His boots seem more fit for the terrain than Childe’s own, but his sleeves are cut short and his gloves fingerless. The fur cape he usually wears still sits over his shoulder, but Childe’s long had a rising suspicion that it is more for show than for practical purposes – that counts for most of Kaeya’s closet, really. His collar is cut ridiculously low, and from his closed posture (arms crossed a little too close to his chest, fingers tucked into the space between his arms and his chest), it looks like he is freezing.
“Thanks,” Childe merely says. “I practice.”
He returns the exact same riddle that Kaeya had first started, and the huff of laughter that it provokes feels like a victory.
A beat of enjoyment passes, and then he continues where his train of thought let off. “Did Jean send you?” He asks, half genuine, half teasing. He would not be surprised; there is no doubt that Jean wants to keep him under supervision, and though Kaeya’s skills are better spent elsewhere, she probably wouldn’t want to pass the average knight on to a harbinger. If he did suddenly decide to be as hostile as she seems to fear he is, the younger recruits would stand no chance.
–nor would Kaeya, really, but at least he’d enjoy that more.
“You have little faith in me,” Kaeya laughs. He lets Childe’s question linger in the air, but it’s not like he minds. The answers matter little to him– much less than Kaeya’s actions matter, as he approaches with such strides that the tip of his booth almost nudges Childe’s lower back. Childe suddenly feels the need to reface the ocean, so he does.
He can still feel Kaeya’s smile behind him.
“Perhaps I just wanted to spend some time with my favorite harbinger,” he sing-songs, and Childe has to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “And make sure he hasn’t fallen into the sea and drowned on our territory. That’d be terrible for diplomatic relations, no?”
Kaeya’s boot pushes a little further forward, nudges the fabric of his shirt and feels like a light pressure against his skin. Childe gets the feeling that there’s a bit of a threat behind the words spoken, and he’s sure that Kaeya knows it excites him. If he kicked him into the waters now, he’d be able to freeze the surface over with his vision, and they wouldn’t find him for months.
“It sure would be,” his grin is broader, more bold in his entertainment now. “And whilst that has yet to happen, I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Yet,” Kaeya hums, and there is no longer any doubt about the threat in the air. It doesn’t make Childe’s smile falter, and when he allows Kaeya the victory of Childe looking upwards, he sees upturned lips there, too.
He turns his head back down, allowing silence to fall over them again. He watches the water of the surface, stretching his toes to poke, observing as rings ripple outward. The water is dark, and he can watch the shadow of Kaeya’s reflection as he feels him step up next to him, spotting his feet out of the corner of his eyes. Then he bends, sits down, and swings his legs over the edge.
“So,” he says. “What’s the big, bad harbinger doing out here, if he’s not drowning or causing trouble?”
Childe smiles. “I never said I wasn’t causing trouble,” he retaliates, almost with a hint of pride in his tone – though he knows Kaeya had likely noticed that himself. Knowing him, it was probably a leading question; bait he’ll gladly take, if he’ll get more of his time out of it.
And when Kaeya tilts his head slightly back and giggles, it’s even more worth it.
“You’re gonna give Jean a headache,” Kaeya sighs. Childe has a hunch that it isn’t actually a gesture of disappointment, and it makes him feel absolutely satisfied with himself. To be adequate entertainment to Kaeya Alberich – that’s a feat he’ll gladly show off. He isn’t afraid to put that thought to words now, either,
“I take pride in it,” he huffs. Kaeya’s smile returns, and though it lingers, he feels that Kaeya is waiting for a genuine response. Childe isn’t the only one who enjoys their back-and-forth, he’s sure of that, but Kaeya is also a Cavalry Captain before anything else. If he was actually going to cause trouble, he’s sure Kaeya would personally knock over his plans. He’s also still quite sure he is in Dragonspine is for him – to keep an eye on the harbinger.
It warms, just a little bit.
“No, really,” he says, giving up on the air of mischief. “I’ve just been clearing camps to spend some… energy. Nothing for Jean – or the pretty cavalry captain – to worry about,” he declares, giving a mock salute with two fingers. He can see the hint of a frown on Kaeya’s face before it happens, and finds himself absolutely confirmed in the belief that should he ever pose a threat to Mondstadt, he’d be elegantly disposed of. Or Kaeya would make the attempt to do so, at least.
“Spending energy?” Kaeya lifts an eyebrow, and Childe prepares for an interrogation. Really, it’s not wrong of him to assume that ‘spending energy’ comes with trouble when it’s Childe, of all people; he’s known for being too eager when faced with the opportunity to fight. He calls it drive, perhaps a passion. Most people call it insanity. He wonders which one Kaeya would choose, if he asked.
Still, he’s fully honest when he says that he has done nothing to inconvenience the knights this time. In fact, perhaps clearing the mountain of so many monsters could almost be viewed as a favor. He’s ready to say so, as he twists his upper body towards Kaeya and raises his hands in front of his chest, grinning. “Now, I promise I’m entirely innocent–”
“Oh, no,” Kaeya interrupts him. This time, Childe’s actually surprised by his actions. When his smirk widens, he knows to take that as a warning. “I have all the faith in the word of my favorite harbinger. I’m simply insulted you didn’t just… come find me.”
Kaeya’s hand wanders across the panels of the bridge and a little closer to his own, and Childe blinks.
“If you need something to spend your energy on, feel free to reach out.”
When Childe lifts his focus and dares to look Kaeya in the eye, he’s smiling – not quite with the same smug expression as before, but a slightly softer one, sensual and inviting. His pointer finger grazes Childe’s thumb, but his gaze stays raised.
And oh, the vixen knows exactly what he’s doing.
“I’m not sure whether you know what you’re getting into here, Kaeya,” he says. He lets his tone drop in pitch, and from the way Kaeya’s lashes drop with it, it has the exact effect he desires. He dares, goes past the line and into the grey area where he’s not quite sure how Kaeya will respond to his actions, and slides his hand fully on top of Kaeya’s before he can run away. He feels the attempt to; a faint flinch, and then he relaxes underneath him. “D’ya really think you can handle it?”
Childe is hooked. The captain’s got him wrapped around his finger, but he can’t quite view it as defeat – not when Kaeya’s choosing to look at him in the first place.
“You underestimate me,” Kaeya purrs. Then he decides to go fully out of bounds and intertwine their fingers.
Now, the air has been special between the two of them since they first met. The… tension isn’t new. Childe’s a simple man; he knows what he wants, and he’s not afraid to chase it. When Kaeya first looked him up and down, smiled at him, and made an offhanded comment that sounded half like a threat, half like a proposition, Childe had shook his hand and promised him one hell of a ride. The spark had stayed since then, threatening to burst into flames whenever they were around each other – now, Childe’s pretty sure it’s about to happen for real. He’s certainly not afraid to prod at the embers.
“I’m simply warning you,” he says, giving Kaeya’s hand a squeeze. “After all, I’m quite good in a spar.”
He snaps the thread, just like that.
Kaeya blinks: once, twice. Childe has a hard time discerning whether he’s genuinely confused or doing it for the dramatics, and that makes it all the more worthwhile. “A spar?” He says it like it’s something strange and unfamiliar, and then falls into a much more mischievous smile. “Sure. That’s not a challenge, either.”
Childe almost wants to take him up on the offer here and now. Though he’s spent the better part of the past three hours fighting off creatures of several kinds, there is still that buzz of excess energy itching under his skin. He’s sure Kaeya would be much better at making it boil to the surface than hilichurls had been, and he’s eager to test the other’s abilities against his own; to find out whether he’d win one-handed, or would actually have to put in some effort. He’s leaning towards the latter, and that makes it even more exciting.
Still, that’s probably what Kaeya expects of him.
And if he keeps going along with all his predictions, he’s going to bore him – that’s the last thing he wants to happen, so he keeps Kaeya on his toes and changes the topic instead.
“I’ll make sure to keep your offer in mind,” he promises, then circles back to a question asked previously. “I’m curious, though,” he starts, “you accuse me of fleeing from my duties, but you still haven’t explained what the cavalry captain is doing out here. Unless Jean did send him.”
“I already told you,” he shrugs, and there’s the slightest pout on his face, as if disappointed in Childe’s lack of attention to his every word. It quickly smoothens out, though, and a softer smile rises. “Making sure my favorite harbinger didn’t drown.”
The nakedness of Kaeya’s words is alarming. Usually, when he’s trying to get something out of someone, there’s this lining of smugness, of a threat; a feeling Childe can’t quite explain, but can always pinpoint. Right now, that feeling is missing – as if Kaeya’s no longer spinning webs or pulling threats, but has let something go and laid himself bare.
Knowing him, that’s a part of it all.
Childe is aware of this much, but cannot stop himself from its effect.
“...Oh,” he lets out. It’s a little too pure, a little too breathy, and he clears his throat almost immediately. He smiles, “Why, that’s awfully sweet of you, captain.”
Kaeya returns his smile, still genuine in nature, and then it sharpens into something full of mischief. “Don’t get too used to it,” he teases, with equal humor and message. “I was kidding, after all.”
–and Childe was right about him, yet again. Kaeya is so incredibly smart, in absolutely all the ways a person can possibly be so. He is a master at phrasing things in the exact way people want to hear it, always without ever promising anyone anything he can’t give. Childe already noticed this at their first meeting, back when they initially clashed tongues and minds.
He has learned a lot about him since then, and thus he is no longer surprised. That said, he still has to make an effort to rein in his disappointment as Kaeya swings one leg over the other.
“Jean wanted me to keep an eye on you, and here I am. Fulfilling my duty, lawfully and effectively.” He mirrors the salute Childe had done minutes earlier and keeps grinning.
“You wound me,” Childe sighs, placing one hand over his heart as if to shield it from the knife. The action seems to push something into place inside him, too. “So mean to my poor soul.”
This gets a real laugh out of Kaeya; short, but far louder in volume than the previous chuckles or giggles. He leans slightly forwards and places one hand over his stomach as it sounds, and Childe almost wishes he could rip that sound from his throat and keep it somewhere safe where nobody can take it out of the world.
“What, are you disappointed I didn’t seek you out of my own volition?” He lifts an eyebrow at him. Childe realizes that, oh no, he’s made him cocky. There’s already a certain flippancy to teasing Childe about a reaction Kaeya clearly intended to get out of him, but he can’t truly mind; not when he was the one who fell for it in the first place. “The captain, following the harbinger around… surely, that’d spark some uncomfortable rumours, no?”
Kaeya is absolutely right. They’re already brewing and starting to smoulder, their names dropped in whispers over drinks and behind stalls and tables. It’s not quite harmful, though – Kaeya has too fine a reputation for the people to believe in his guilt, and Childe, too, has kept himself as low profile as a harbinger can. The voices that speak of them are not negative. They simply… are. And they will surely rise in volume, should Kaeya do as he says.
Childe would let them talk themselves to death, if it’d get him a little more time.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind your company,” Childe smiles, all teeth. He can see the way Kaeya listens for the catch in his tone; the bite they’re so used to, or the trap he’s been looking for ever since high-ranking Fatui first set foot in his city. He’s not sure Kaeya has realized he’s going to find none of it. Nor does he think he’s come to accept that trying to deep-dive into a soldier will only let him breach the upper waters.
Right now, it seems like he gets the honesty, though – so Kaeya flees, separating their hands with an air of nonchalance.
“My, how forward,” he grins. “In that case, I might just take you up on your offer.” Kaeya shifts slightly, uncrossing his legs again to swipe the toe of his boot against the water’s surface. Childe watches the motion ripple outwards, crashing against the poles that support the bridge.
“Well,” Kaeya starts again. “It depends on what interesting places you’re going next.” Childe rips his gaze up, and finds that the other is already looking at him. “Mondstadt needs its cavalry captain, I’m afraid.”
“Actually,” Childe begins, and here comes the announcement he’s actually been quite eager to make. He had to pull a few strings, and convince a director that he could keep himself from wrecking diplomatic havoc, but he got his wish; even if it came with very un-wished paperwork. “I’ll be staying in Mondstadt for quite a while.”
Kaeya blinks, looking taken aback. Childe can’t help but smirk, as a piece he’s long had in his hand is finally placed in the puzzle. He’s had a suspicion that Kaeya had quite the network, possibly a finger on his very own pulse as well, but this feels like absolute confirmation that he is indeed using mysterious connections to get his hands on their intel. It’s so fun to watch as he realizes some things simply don’t reach him. It’s an honor, too, to be the one that Kaeya so neatly stalks.
Then, Kaeya grins, and the victory is over. “Jean is surely going to enjoy that,” he huffs, and Childe can’t help but let out a short-lived laugh. Oh, he can just imagine the Acting Grandmaster’s expression once she hears news that the harbinger’s stay has been extended – he almost feels bad for the minor mental breakdown he might cause.
Keyword: almost.
“At least you’ll get to spend more time with me,” Childe shrugs, smile broad and proud. Kaeya returns it, smaller in stretch, but mirroring the same emotions. Childe adds, just to make sure he’s not making things too easy; “If I have time, that is.”
Kaeya turns his head towards him and scoots closer, and his hands rediscovers the spot it had previously fled from. His fingers are as cold as the air when they brush against his. Childe almost asks, almost offers to find him a source of warmth, but Kaeya – luckily – interrupts him before he can take a jump he’s not sure he’d make.
“Clear your schedule for me, won’t you?” He says. He tilts his head and drops his pitch just slightly, smile turning less smug, more seductive. Childe wants to laugh – not because it isn’t effective, no, but because there’s not any reason when Childe needs no enticement.
“Of course,” he responds, and it’s earnest. “After all, you promised me a spar.”
There is a chance that Kaeya had offered one jokingly, but Childe is not planning to let it remain as such. He itches to try his hand against Kaeya’s, to be able to physically push and see where he gives and where he will have to use more force. He longs for an interesting fight, and there is no doubt in his mind that Kaeya would give him one. He strikes him as the type to be equally chatty and dirty on the battlefield, and a fight is most enjoyed when it is the most like reality: no rules.
“In that case,” Kaeya says. Childe almost wants to hold on, when his hand slips from his and he rises to his feet. He brushes imaginary dust from his shoulder and his shirt, “I can’t disappoint you again, can I?”
Childe looks up at him, and Kaeya extends a hand towards him with a grin. He imagines reaching out just for Kaeya to avoid it, or pull up halfway, then let him fall into the waters.
He takes the extended hand.
“Indeed,” he grins.