The candlelight flickered against the wooden walls of your shared home in Liyue, casting warm shadows over Childe’s tired form. He sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded beside him, exposing the fresh bruises and shallow cuts that painted his skin like battle scars.

You sighed, shaking your head as you dipped a cloth into warm water. “You push yourself too hard, Ajax.”

He chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. “It’s just another day’s work, babe. Nothing I can’t handle.”

You shot him a look, one that told him you weren’t buying it. He grinned, but it faltered when you pressed the damp cloth to a particularly nasty cut near his ribs. He sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t pull away.

“You’re always so reckless,” you murmured, gently dabbing at the wound. “What if one day you come back worse than this?”

Childe reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers, though calloused from years of combat, were gentle against your skin. “I always come back to you, don’t I?”

You frowned, focusing on your task instead of meeting his gaze. It was the same conversation every time—him brushing off his injuries, you worrying over them. Yet, neither of you would change. He would always fight, and you would always be the one to patch him up afterward.

After cleaning the wounds, you reached for the ointment. Childe hummed in approval when your fingers brushed over his skin, applying the salve with delicate care.

“You know,” he mused, a teasing lilt in his tone, “I think I like getting hurt if it means I get to have you fuss over me like this.”

You swatted his arm lightly. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He laughed, but it melted into something softer when you finally met his eyes. His ocean-blue gaze, usually so sharp and calculating, was filled with warmth. You sighed, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.