Scaramouche tapped his pen rhythmically against the edge of his notebook, eyes narrowed as he tried to concentrate on the lecture. The monotonous voice of the professor droned on, but his attention kept slipping—mostly because of the idiot sitting beside him.

Childe, his overly cheerful and painfully distracting boyfriend, was doodling on the edge of Scaramouche’s notes again. Little hearts, some messy scribbles, and—was that supposed to be a fox? Scaramouche frowned and nudged him sharply with his elbow.

“Would you stop that?” he hissed, though his tone lacked real anger.

Childe turned to him with his trademark grin, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “What? I’m just making your notes more fun. You’re welcome.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Childe whispered back, leaning a little closer.

“Unfortunately.”

Despite his sarcastic reply, Scaramouche didn’t shove Childe away when his hand brushed his under the table, their fingers intertwining subtly. He let out a small sigh, pretending to focus on the professor while Childe’s thumb traced lazy circles on his palm.

After class, as they packed up their things, Childe swung an arm around Scaramouche’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s grab something to eat. My treat.”

Scaramouche gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Childe said, grinning. “I just want to spoil my favorite grumpy genius.”

“Flattery won’t save you if you keep ruining my notes,” Scaramouche muttered, though he allowed himself to lean slightly into Childe’s side as they walked out of the lecture hall together.