Chapter Text
Scaramouche turns up to the party.
He hadn’t been invited. Childe had wanted to send an invitation, had discussed it with Zhongli, but the fact was that most of the people coming were Zhongli’s friends from work: cops, in other words, or else retired cops—but cops all the same. Inviting the head of the biggest criminal organization in the city, the Fatui, to a party filled with police was definitely not the smartest thing to do.
“He probably wouldn’t come, even if we do invite him,” Childe had argued. “He’s smarter than that. And he might feel slighted if we don’t extend an invite.” But in the end they hadn’t sent one.
And yet here he is.
Childe opens the door to the cat omega, Scara’s violet eyes sharp but holding a subtle amusement at his shocked expression. His outfit is stylish as always: black pants, dark purple turtleneck sweater, leather jacket and leather gloves.
Several steps behind him stand two huge alphas—from a quick glance, he guesses a jaguar and a large dog breed of some kind, not a wolf like Childe—carrying a wooden crate between them. With how muscular they are, Childe can’t tell if the box is heavy or just large. They don’t seem to be having any difficulty with it, but that’s not saying much.
“Scaramouche,” he manages at last, trying to compose himself. The sounds of the party echo out of the house over his shoulder, reminding him of every reason why this is bad. He only got bonded officially the night before—is this about to be his last day in this world? His heart thumps loudly in his chest. “How lovely to see you.”
Scara’s eyes narrow, conveying both his continued amusement and his scorn at Childe’s poor attempt at a lie. “Taru,” he smirks. “I think my invitation must have got lost in the mail?”
“Um.” Childe swallows.
“No matter,” Scaramouche waves a hand airily, blue-black cat tail swishing in a lazy arc. Childe dares to hope he’s actually not mortally offended by the slight after all. “I won’t stay long,” the omega continues. “I just wanted to drop off this bonding gift for you and your new mate.” He gestures to the two alphas and the crate behind him. “I know it sounds like an awful line to say ‘I saw it and thought of you’, but it’s true.” He pauses expectantly, but Childe’s still trying to get his brain to catch up to the situation and doesn’t react in time. “Invite me in, then?” Scara rolls his eyes. “Has being bonded affected you so severely? You never used to be this slow.”
Childe gasps a breath and scowls. “Shut up, you mangy alley-cat,” he fires back, and Scara coughs out a surprised chuckle, though the two alphas at his back stiffen and snarl slightly.
“Better,” Scaramouche drawls, and Childe internally sighs with relief. It’d been a gamble, insulting him like that, but it seems to have paid off. Scara’s always been as unpredictable as he is brilliant, but Childe has just enough experience with him to be able to gauge the mood of the conversation. He’s recovered from his surprise now, and regained control of his faculties.
“I don’t think that crate will fit down the hall too well,” he muses, stepping outside and closing the front door behind him. “Let’s head round the house and into the backyard.”
“Trying to keep me away from your new friends?” Scaramouche asks archly.
“Not at all,” Childe replies. He definitely would’ve liked to, but the weather’s so warm today that the party’s spilled out through the patio doors and onto the back lawn. There’s no chance to avoid everyone, even going this way.
He leads Scara down the path at the side of the house, past the kitchen window, and through the low gate. The two alphas follow, setting the crate down by the wall at a nod from their boss, then stepping back and waiting by the gate, out of the way.
Childe holds his breath. Maybe… maybe no one will notice Scara there; maybe he’ll wish him well and be on his way before any of the dozen or so guests out back can pay him any attention. But his hopes are dashed when a voice calls his name. Loudly.
“Childe!” He spots Venti waving to him, already heading over, and with Xiao in tow. “There you are, we were wondering where you’d got to!”
The exclamation makes the other occupants of the backyard turn to look, and an instant hush falls when they see who Childe is standing with. They all know Scaramouche by sight, of course. His picture’s probably plastered up on some ridiculous Wanted board at the station. Not that they’ve ever been able to pin anything concrete on him…
Venti reaches them, his grin still in place, seemingly oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere. He’s wearing another loose-fitting but flattering white shirt, with green pants that hide his tail and the same soft, green hat Childe had seen him in the day before that covers his ears, so whatever animal traits he has are still a complete mystery. He’s holding a glass, half full, and he lets go of Xiao’s wrist as he comes to a halt. Xiao’s just as silent and surly as ever, barely glancing at Childe, all his attention on Scaramouche.
“Hi!” Venti says brightly, extending his hand to the party-crashing omega. “I’m Venti, nice to meet you.”
Scara takes only a second’s pause, tail flicking once, before he grasps Venti’s hand and shakes amiably. “Scaramouche.”
“Oh, that’s a cool name,” Venti smiles, his demeanor so at odds with everyone else’s that to Childe it’s almost like a slap to the face. He bites back a gasp and swallows instead, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. A quick glance at Xiao makes him think the beta must be feeling the same way.
“You’re not with the police,” Scara remarks, half questioning, still courteous.
Venti’s eyes crinkle with laughter and he shakes his head. “Ehe. No, I work at the courthouse. I’m a public defender, so that’s how I know Zhongli and most of these guys.” He waves a hand behind him to indicate the other guests, without turning to look. Over his head, Childe sees them all watching. A few more cops have stepped out of the house since the whole fiasco began, freezing in place on the patio to stand and stare. “Including Xiao,” Venti adds. He turns to indicate his… Childe thinks they’re still just friends?… and finally notices Xiao’s expression. “Do you two know each other?” he checks, frowning. Childe can hardly take a breath. What a question!
“We’ve never met,” Xiao says, his voice somehow even, though he still doesn’t take his eyes off Scaramouche. Perhaps he thinks he might pull out a weapon, although Childe knows that’s not Scara’s style. He doesn’t doubt the cat omega has at least one on him, but he wouldn’t draw first. Then again, his unpredictability means that’s never guaranteed.
“You’re not a cop either, Scaramouche?” Venti asks the gang leader innocently, and Childe is still too shocked to react, but Xiao actually lets out a brief laugh.
“I’m not, no,” Scara says with a wide smile. “I’m in the import/export business, mainly. A little people management, some business mergers, land ownership deals; a real mixture.”
“Sounds like hard work,” Venti nods. “And how do you know Childe and Zhongli?”
Childe’s mouth is already dry; it feels like a desert in there right now. It’s a sharp contrast to the prickle of nervous sweat at his temples and between his shoulder blades.
“I was at school with Childe,” Scaramouche says easily, giving the wolf a smirk. He must know exactly how Childe is feeling, and be enjoying his discomfort.
“That’s wonderful!” Venti exclaims. “So great that you’ve kept in touch all these years, right Childe?”
“Y…yes, right,” Childe agrees, amazed he has any breath left for speech. He might not need anything to actually go down between Scara and the cops—he might pass away merely from stress.
“You must come and get a drink,” Venti offers, half turning towards the table on the far side of the patio, where snacks and bottles are currently going completely ignored by everyone there.
“Oh, I can’t stay,” Scara says, his ears twitching ever so slightly, and Childe can’t tell if he’s finally showing him mercy or if his self-preservation instincts are kicking in. He can see the attention of what’s now almost two dozen cops trained on him like laser sights, even if Venti’s oblivious.
“Nonsense, you just got here. At least stay for one drink,” Venti presses, still clueless to how close he is to danger. “Childe, you look like you need one too.” Childe nods helplessly, giving up any hope of retaining his sanity and just letting Venti lead them all full tilt into whatever’s going to happen next.
Venti completes his turn and makes a soft sound of surprise, only audible because of how quiet everything else has become. “Guys? What’s going on?” he asks, voice carrying. There’s half a breath where no one moves, no one knowing quite what to say, but Venti continues without waiting for an answer. “This is a party! We’re here to celebrate Zhongli and Childe, aren’t we? This is a day for everyone to be happy, for everyone to come together and make merry!” He laughs, high and clear as a bell. “Don’t tell me you can’t all manage that for one day? Grab another drink if you don’t have one—it’ll help, trust me!”
And the most incredible thing happens. The rest of the guests, the cops and ex-cops, look down or glance away, shuffling their feet, abashed. And then they turn back to their groups, starting up their conversations again, some even taking Venti’s advice and meandering over to the drinks table. Childe can’t see from where he’s standing, but he can bet they’re all pouring themselves at least doubles.
“Much better,” he hears Venti mutter to himself, satisfied, before he spins on his heel, beaming, closes the distance and links his arm with Scaramouche’s, as if they’re already fast friends. “Come on, let’s get a drink, and then I’ll introduce you to some of the folks here. Don’t worry, they won’t bite!”
He starts towards the table, Scara at his side, and just after they pass Childe, Venti turns his head and gives him a wink. It’s all Childe can do not to stumble backwards. Instead he stands rooted to the ground in shock. He grabs at Xiao’s arm before he can move away, and the surly beta fixes him with a glare until he realizes his mistake and lets go.
“Did you know?” Childe hisses, his voice so quiet that Xiao has to lean in closer, in spite of his clear preference not to. “Did you tell him?”
“Know what? Tell who what?” Xiao keeps his voice as low as Childe’s, to the wolf’s relief. Venti and Scara are already waiting their turn at the table, but who can tell how sharp their ears are?
“Did you know that Venti’s known who Scara is this whole time?”
Xiao blinks up at him in confusion for a moment, then shifts his gaze to his crush, who’s pointing out to the boss of the Fatui gang which drinks are the best, offering to pour for him, suggesting he pick some food too. A warm smile lights up his face for a moment, and he shakes his head.
“I never told him,” he denies. “I never guessed he’d know. He’s just…” He sighs, then seems to realize how he’s acting and closes down again, pressing his lips together, brows and ears flattening.
“He is, isn’t he?” Childe chuckles, and Xiao scowls at him as if he’s mocking him, or as if Childe has any interest in the omega like that. The wolf snorts. “I just mean, I have no idea how he did…” he waves a hand at the backyard in general, not knowing how to describe the way Venti had got everyone to calm down, “…that.”
Xiao’s expression softens a little. “Yeah. He always knows exactly what to say.” He sounds wry, but more admiring than bitter. Childe still doesn’t know him all that well, but he guesses that Xiao, in contrast, is the type who struggles with what to say in most situations. The two are well suited to each other. Complementary. “We’d better join them,” Xiao adds, voice a little louder now, “before he comes back and drags us over.”
“I’ll be there in a second,” Childe agrees, having a sudden thought. Xiao doesn’t need any further prompting to leave, moving off immediately, and Childe turns away from the patio and back towards the gate, heading to where Scara’s two alpha bodyguards are waiting unobtrusively in the shadow of the hedge.
“Hi,” he greets them, and they look surprised. “Won’t you join the party? It looks like your boss is gonna be here longer than he thought, and there’s plenty of food and drinks to go around. I’m Childe.” He holds out his hand, and after a moment they introduce themselves and follow him to the table.
*
When everyone’s finally left that evening, Zhongli and Childe collapse back onto the couch with matching sighs. Childe slips his hand into his bondmate’s and squeezes.
“That was fun,” he murmurs, tired but happy. His face is flushed from a little too much alcohol, and Zhongli is in the same state.
“It was,” Zhongli concurs, shifting closer until he’s pressed up against Childe’s side. “Oh, when I was cleaning up outside, I saw a crate out there,” he mentions, motioning to the patio doors. “What’s in it?”
Childe sits bolt upright. “Scara’s gift!” he gasps. “I’d totally forgotten about it! Let’s open it!”
The long summer evening is still warm, with enough light for them to see easily. Childe studies the crate for a moment, wondering if they’ll need a crowbar to open it, but the top appears to be on only loosely. Zhongli gets his fingers into the crack and pries it up without much difficulty, and they lean over it together to see what’s inside.
Childe’s eyes widen, and he reaches in and lifts out the object. It’s a sculpture of a bonsai tree, the trunk and branches crafted from twisted gold wire, the leaves made from rubies. Every part of it gleams and glitters in the sunlight. The branches curve and arch in perfect forms, the rubies arranged just so, their color reminding him of a red maple. The pot is glazed in white, red and gold, and the whole thing is very heavy.
“Zhongli look!” he gasps. “It’s so beautiful!”
Zhongli doesn’t reply, but Childe can’t spare a glance towards him just now, needing to put the gift down somewhere before he drops it. He hurries back into the living room and nudges aside some of the items on the coffee table with his elbow, then places the pot down carefully. He takes a step back and admires the sculpture.
“Well?” he prompts again. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“It is extremely beautiful,” Zhongli agrees, coming up beside him and slipping his arm around his waist, but he sounds hesitant. “I’m slightly concerned about its provenance, however, considering who it’s from.”
Childe raises his eyebrows, turning to his alpha in surprise. “You think it’s stolen?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
Childe laughs. “Scara wouldn’t do that,” he insists, then snorts at Zhongli’s look of incredulity. “Oh, I don’t mean he wouldn’t steal, or traffic in stolen items,” he assures him. “I mean he wouldn’t give us a bonding gift that was hot.”
“Still, I should get someone to check in the police database, just to be sure,” Zhongli says.
“Please don’t,” begs Childe. “It’s bad enough we didn’t invite Scara today, but that turned out okay anyway, thanks to Venti.” Zhongli hums quietly in agreement. “Can you accept this gift in the spirit it was given? For me?”
His dragon lets out a breath and smiles, his amber eyes warm as the summer sunshine. “For you, darling? Anything.”