𖥻 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖
⭑⭒ "I'm convinced he thinks you two are flirting."
"He'd have to be an idiot to think that,".
Scaramouce replies, appalled by the
thought.
And then it hits him like a freight train.
...
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━━━ ★ CHAPTER SIX
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Despite Scaramouche telling Dottore to get lost before entering the shower, when he steps out, Dottore is passed out on his bed. Scaramouche rolls his eyes, pulling on a clean pair of briefs. He lacks the energy to wrestle Dottore awake right now, so he’ll do it later. Maybe after a quick meal.
As if on cue, the loud noise of clattering dishes comes from the kitchen, causing Scaramouche to jolt in shock. Dottore is somehow still deep in slumber, but Scaramouche doesn’t wait around to figure out how. He grabs the closest shirt and tugs it on before flinging his bedroom door open. Nobody is robbing his apartment, not if he has anything to say about it.
He’s not getting robbed.
Childe glances over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly when he realizes that he’s been caught red handed.
“Sorry, the pot slipped out of my hands,” Childe says and Scaramouche walks over, skeptically peering around to see if anything’s broken. “I made soup. There’s extra if you want some.”
Scaramouche makes a face. He wants to say that he’d rather consume something poisonous than Childe’s cooking, but the soup smells really, really good and his stomach betrays him by rumbling.
“When did you learn how to cook?” Scaramouche asks, tugging his shirt tighter around himself when a draft creeps into the room. He takes a seat at the dining table, watching as Childe swirls around a big spoon in the pot.
“I have three younger siblings,” Childe mumbles, pulling out two bowls from the cabinet. “I’d rather not have my mom burst a blood vessel by having to take care of the entire family by herself.”
Scaramouche pinches his own thigh. He should not be itching to smile at the thought of Childe in an apron, working away tirelessly in the kitchen while his younger siblings dance around him.
Childe fills both bowls with generous amounts of soup and then carefully slips a spoon into each. He places one in front of Scaramouche and then places another next to him. Scaramouche scoots over, expecting Childe to sit down, but Childe doesn’t budge, so he turns his head curiously and is greeted by a narrowed pair of blue eyes.
