Chapter Text
"Oh shit—" Tartaglia cursed when the Traveller dashed at him right at the moment he attacked, even though his electric spear slashed the blonde's face, the wounded man still closed the distance considerably and pierced his opponent's shoulder. Soon, the Fatui found himself pinned to the floor as the last of the energy he's been using to hold onto his Foul Legacy form has been ripped away from him and the aftereffects hit immediately: all the exhaustion and pain attacking all at once. He struggled to keep a hold of all his senses and felt his opponent's weight on him, as well as his blood dripping onto his face. He managed to focus his vision and saw that the boy also seemed exhausted, but there was a certain strength in it as he continued to stare Childe down in their peculiar situation.
"You can stop being so serious, comrade," he tried to give a lighthearted smile. "You've already won. You know I won't be getting up for a while now."
"Why did you go all out again? It was supposed to be a friendly match. And yet you hurt yourself just to get an edge."
"And you still beat me, so it wasn't a wasted effort. I can't take defeat without giving it all I've got, you should know that much already."
The blonde was silent, but he didn't relax.
"What, are you worried about me?" Childe smirked. The Traveller suddenly broke eye contact, and stopped holding onto his defeated foe so tightly, seeming confused. But the hesitation lasted only a moment. He then looked right back and smiled with a weird gleam in his eye that Tartaglia wasn't sure how to interpret. "Yeah, I am actually," he said. "But only when I see you. Since you appear to really want me to kill you."
"Then why aren't you killing me? You could easily do so now. I am still Fatui and I will probably keep causing trouble for you. What's stopping you?"
The smile disappeared from the Traveler's face and he just kept staring into Childe's eyes.
"Valia," the defeated man said as he hoisted himself slightly up on his healthier arm, the one that wasn't skewered by the other's sword. But before he could find any comfortable position, his opponent suddenly got even closer and he felt his lips on his own, somehow both confident and questioning at the same time. Tartaglia had only a brief moment of surprise before he returned the kiss, struggling a bit to stay upright but Valia soon grabbed his back to hold him. He felt almost entranced for a moment before another voice broke him out of it.
"Aaaaalright, time out Valia, the weird perfume lady is one thing but that's still a Fatui—"
Both men stopped dead in their tracks and the Traveller suddenly hid his face in the other's shoulder for a moment before turning to his flying friend.
"Paimon, please, I know you're just worried, but please—!"
Childe suddenly burst into laughter that soon turned into pained coughing.
"Well, you sure know how to both build and break the tension, comrade."
The Traveller slowly stood up, swaying a little but also shooting Tartaglia a worried look.
"Well, maybe Paimon's idea of a time-out isn't that bad at this point."
"Of course it isn't!" the flying fairy crossed her arms. "You both really overdid it today!"
"Sure, mom," Valia snorted and then turned in a conspirational whisper to Childe, who managed to finally sit up somewhat properly. "I'm not bringing her next time."
"Hey—!"
"It's a date then?" Childe interrupted Paimon's another would-be tangent and his question was immediately answered with a content smile.
"Definitely."