Messy work. He didn’t usually let things get this personal, but tonight, he was already on edge. The negotiations had gone south, another gang trying to muscle in on Fatui turf, and their leader had run his mouth one too many times. Childe wasn’t the type to take disrespect lightly.

But alas, the fight was over before it even began.

He wiped a smear of dirt from his cheek with the back of his hand, scoffing as the unconscious bodies around him groaned weakly. Pathetic. He had warned them. And yet, here they were.

But the moment the adrenaline faded, another thought crept in — the one he always had after nights like these. You

You, waiting for him at home, curled up in one of his oversized shirts, maybe buried in a book or already fast asleep. You, who flinched at loud noises and avoided conflict like the plague, who hated when he came back like this — bruised, bloodied, a storm barely contained beneath his skin. He’s already familiarized with the feeling of your concern, it’s etched at the back of his mind.

Childe exhaled sharply and checked his watch. Time to go home then.

When he got home, the contrast nearly knocked the wind out of him. You looked so peaceful, so soft all curled up under the covers on the bed. You greet him, and he doesn’t even fight back the smile that threatened to appear on his face.

“You should be asleep.” He said, voice softer than he meant it to be.

Childe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. He didn’t deserve this kind of softness, but gods, he was selfish — because he wanted it anyway.