Written by leafy on ao3
Warning
Fluff
________
The hotel manager grimaces.
"I'm really sorry," she starts, and the Wanderer watches Lumine slump a little more.
It's bizarre to see her so listless. The past few days of tough commissions and relentless bickering must have taken their toll on her, if the sag of her shoulders is anything to go by.
"No rooms?" she asks.
"Paimon wishes Tubby was done with spring cleaning," Paimon complains, hanging limply in the air. "Paimon wants to go back to the teapot already!"
"Patience, Paimon," Lumine says, scrubbing a hand over her face. "Sareh, are you sure there's no vacancies at all?"
"Well," Sareh says, flipping through her ledger. "There's one. But, uh, it's a single bed room."
Lumine and Paimon turn to the Wanderer and give him identical disgruntled looks.
"Paimon doesn't want to share a bed with him," the fairy declares, crossing her arms.
"I don't think he wants to share a bed with us," Lumine says, and sighs. "I suppose we-"
"I don't mind," says the Wanderer, and three pairs of eyes snap to him.
"Wh-" says Lumine.
"What?" Paimon squawks.
He rolls his eyes, feeling himself get defensive. "It's clearly the practical thing to do."
"You want to share a bed with us?" Lumine asks.
"I never said anything about wanting," he says, peevishly. "It's just the best of a bunch of bad options. Or do you want to go trekking across Teyvat to find another inn?"
The Traveler turns back to Paimon and raises her eyebrows. The pixie glowers at her for a second and then throws up her hands. "Fine!" she exclaims. "But Paimon bets he's a blanket hog."
The bed is big and the room is clean, which already makes it a step up from many of the accommodations the Wanderer has experienced.
Paimon flings herself onto the bed as soon as they enter the room. "Hurry up and get changed!" she orders. "Paimon is sleepy."
Lumine rolls her eyes affectionately and drops her bags on the floor. "You can have that side, Wanderer."
He nods and turns around, disrobing quickly and slipping into his yukata.
When he turns back to the room, Lumine is pulling her dress over her head. The fabric lifts to reveal sharp shoulder blades, ridged vertebrae. White scars on pale skin: two long slashes from shoulder blade to hip, another short one at the base of her neck, numerous smaller nicks littered across corded muscle.
He wants to touch them - and the force of the desire terrifies him. He wants to trace the lines where scar tissue melts into skin, hear the stories behind each old wound.
Too bad he forfeited that privilege the first time he tried to kill her.
He tears his eyes away.
They settle under the blankets quickly, Paimon nestled between them. Lumine turns out the light.
"Goodnight," she says.
"Goodnight," he returns.
The sky is still dark when something pulls him out of slumber. The room is silent except for Paimon's breathing and a strange snuffling sound.
He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, trying to place the noise. It's sort of husky, like crisp fabric crumpled in a fist.
It's coming from Lumine's side of the bed.
