Work Text:
Childe let out a loud, booming scoff once he could rest assured they had fallen out of earshot of the others.
"Man," Childe groaned, tucking his chin under his scarf to ward off the bitter cold surrounding them. "This is the worst."
Dottore glanced over at him as they walked towards the palace together, smirking at the Eleventh's petulant display.
"What is?" Dottore asked. "The passing of one of our comrades, or whatever petty little thoughts are running through your mind at the present?"
Childe pursed his lips in annoyance, not bothering to look at the smug expression on Dottore's face.
"As if you're any more invested in the matter," Childe grumbled. The weary exhale that escaped him vaporized into fog in the icy night air. "I wouldn't be caught dead saying this to his face, but in a way, Pantalone was right. Considering that a full day is out of the question, I would have preferred that operations be unaffected by all this. It's not like I'll have enough time to visit home before Her Majesty plans on shipping me off again. I'll just be stuck in the palace with nothing to do for no good reason."
"Oh, it's not so bad," Dottore said, snickering. "Perhaps a bit of quiet will do us all some good."
"That's easy for you to say," Childe retorted, shooting Dottore a contemptuous look. "You're the only one still working. Who did you think you were fooling, anyway?"
Dottore scoffed. "It wasn't my intention to fool anyone. I made an appearance. And this one is as good as any other."
"I doubt everyone considers it that way."
"So what if they don't?" Dottore shrugged before glancing at Childe slyly. "If anything, being so quick to notice from all the way across the room only attests to the fact that you weren't quite all there either, were you?"
Childe chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "That's got nothing to do with it. You know I can call you out from a mile away. And stop trying to turn this around on me, anyway. I'm certainly not the bad guy here."
"Are you implying that you consider me to be one, then?"
"One of you, at least," Childe huffed.
Dottore fell silent then, expression flat and unreadable, and Childe watched him from the corner of his eye. He'd meant that last part in jest, but from Dottore's reaction, he had to wonder if it had struck a sour chord somehow. At the very least, Dottore suddenly seemed a bit distant. Distracted, maybe.
Childe decided to brush it off, and simply kept pace beside him. He didn't pretend to know exactly how Dottore's Segments worked, nor did he really care to, but he knew they would get like this now and again. Dottore was a bit unfocused by default, but occasionally Childe would notice one of his Segments drifting off unnaturally in the middle of a thought, or suddenly looking far-off and out of place in their surroundings. Childe sometimes wondered if it was merely a side effect of what they were - whatever that may be - or if it meant something more than that. Maybe they were communicating with one another in those moments. Or, more likely, perhaps it was a chance for their Prime Segment to communicate with them.
It was mildly intriguing to consider, but ultimately, Childe never saw much reason to go digging for answers. He doubted he would get them, and moreover, any answer that could have been given wouldn't have changed the way Childe saw them. True, it was easy for him to tell Prime apart from his younger Segments, and easier still to be annoyed at the man's technical absence from what was supposed to be a mandatory service. But at the end of the day, Childe considered these things inconsequential. The fact was, they were all Dottore, regardless of what particular Segment he was speaking to. Childe didn't really need any answers beyond that.
"Childe."
The abrupt call of his name broke Childe out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to Dottore quizzically. It seemed like whatever little hiccup he just experienced had passed, but he still seemed a little… off. Stiffer than he usually carried himself, even taking the biting chill in the air into consideration.
"What is it?" Childe asked.
Dottore hesitated. Childe noticed he seemed to be wringing his hands under his coat, given away by the heavy fabric shifting and rustling in front of his stomach.
"Well… since it seems you have nowhere to be, and nothing to do," Dottore began, the words coming out a bit stilted and unnatural, "I was considering inviting you up to my quarters for the evening."
Childe was so taken aback that he nearly stumbled mid-step. Not by the invitation itself, of course. It was just… the sheer ludicrousness of even asking it like that. Childe had already been planning on just sort of following Dottore wherever he was going, barring him being shooed away before they got there. That was how they usually did things if he was back in town with some time on his hands. Childe of course had his own quarters in the palace, but he was there so infrequently, it didn't feel much like home. So he preferred to spend the nights with Dottore, if he was available. So why would tonight have been any different?
Unable to decipher Dottore's strange demeanor with the information he had, Childe wasn’t sure how to respond.
"Uh… yeah," Childe said carefully, raising an eyebrow at him. "That's a nice… consideration, I suppose."
Dottore glanced over at him with an almost frantic twitch of his head. "So you're coming?"
"Well, yeah, but-" Childe chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He supposed he could try being more tactful, but tact was never his strongest suit. "You short-circuiting or something? Or whatever it is you'd do if your brain's fried?"
"Wh-" Dottore stopped walking, making Childe follow suit, and turned heel to face him with an insulted frown. "No, shithead! My brain is not ‘fried!’"
Childe let out an airy laugh, knitting his brows together in confusion. "Well, what am I supposed to think? I was planning on joining you tonight anyway. What's with the sudden urgency?"
"It isn't urgent ," Dottore argued, too quick and too defensive, crossing his arms over his chest with a slight pout. "I just… want to make sure you're coming."
So it was urgent, at least in a sense. Trouble was, Childe couldn't figure out for the life of him why his presence would be so necessary now.
"Why?" Childe asked genuinely. "Do you just… really want to fuck or something?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Dottore dismissed immediately, waving a hand in front of his face. Upon seeing Childe's offended, scornful glare, he clarified, "Well… sure. Yes. But that's not why I'm asking."
Childe rolled his eyes. Nice save. Still, his curiosity outweighed his annoyance.
"Then what is the reason?"
Dottore scowled slightly, his gaze drifting away from Childe's eyes. He sighed heavily, though for once it seemed to be mostly directed at himself. He looked a little embarrassed.
"Oh, just… Ignore that whole thing. I suppose I was just trying to be-" Dottore made a vague, rolling gesture with his hand, "-romantic."
Childe blinked at him slowly before bursting into laughter.
" That's your idea of romance?" Childe crowed in disbelief. "'I'm considering inviting you up to my quarters?' Was that supposed to be a proposition of some kind?"
"Zip it."
Yet more unparalleled romance, it seemed. But Childe tried his best to taper his giggles, not wanting to completely spoil the moment. Call him a sucker, but now that he knew that it had all been a profoundly inept attempt at formally asking him on a date, Childe couldn't help but feel a warm, floaty sensation rising in his chest. It was sweet - the concept, not the execution. But it did make things all the more curious. Why set this up now, on the eve of a funeral of all things?
"Okay, okay, I get it," Childe conceded affectionately, wiping a lingering tear from his eye. "I'm coming up, don't you worry. But what's the occasion?"
Dottore gave him a smug look, clearly chuffed by Childe's ignorance. "You mean you don't know?"
Childe just shook his head. Knowing something the Eleventh didn't seemed to lift Dottore's spirits again, and his embarrassment was all but forgotten as he chuckled knowingly.
"You'll figure it out soon enough. Just follow me."
Childe did, of course, through the palace gates and all the way into Dottore's quarters. The setting was by no means unfamiliar, but Childe found his gaze flickering this way and that across the room, excitedly studying every nook and cranny his eyes could find. Dottore rarely put on this much of a show for anything other than that which regarded his work, so Childe was chomping at the bit to see what could have possibly worked him into such a tizzy.
Childe followed Dottore over to the desk sitting beside the bed, where he removed his mask and set the birdlike visage atop the smooth wooden surface. In the center was a plain, unassuming little satchel, and Dottore picked it up and peeked inside the bag. Once assuring the contents inside were all in one piece, he suddenly sighed, turning back to Childe with a disgruntled expression.
"I… hadn't intended to give it to you like this ," Dottore said disdainfully, squeezing the satchel closer to his chest as if second-guessing his decision. He scowled then, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, if I'd have known that Scaramouche's little ' liberation ' efforts were going to take up this much of my time, perhaps there are many things I would have done differently. But I haven't had the opportunity to think of displaying it, and I don't suspect we'll see each other again after this until long after the day has passed. Though I suppose you may prefer this way, anyhow. You can get your hands on it straight away."
As Dottore anxiously trudged through his train of thought aloud, Childe had no choice but to figure out his intentions piece by piece. He was giving him something, that much was clear - whatever was in that satchel. It was something he was ill-prepared to give him due to the Harbingers' collective woes in regards to the missing Gnosis, and was clearly bothered by the fact that he now had no choice but to unceremoniously bestow it on him now. Because they wouldn't be seeing each other until "long after the day has passed." But what was the "day?" What event could have possibly caught his attention like-
The last piece of the puzzle abruptly clicked into place, and Childe's eyes went wide.
"My birthday," Childe remarked aloud, awestruck by the realization. His birthday would be coming up in a little over a week. With everything else going on, and so long spent away from home, he hadn’t had a chance to even think of it. "You remembered my birthday."
Childe couldn't mask his sheer disbelief, making Dottore take notice of it with a frown. He held the package tight to his chest again, giving Childe a cagey look.
"I- Yes. Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, it's just- Man, with how busy I’ve been, I barely remembered it!" Childe let out a dumbstruck guffaw, shaking his head in wonder. He wasn't going to bother bringing up the fact that Dottore couldn't even remember most of his assistants' names, or any of his colleagues' assignments, or anything that was not personally spoonfed to him by the many versions of himself that were equally as inclined to completely ignore all which didn't involve them. Because even though simply remembering the date was a miracle in and of itself, what had taken Childe completely by surprise was that Dottore had gotten him a gift for it. This, he did state aloud: "I can't believe you got me a birthday present."
Childe could see the tips of Dottore's ears flushing red. Suddenly, he seemed less inclined to claim possessive ownership over the bundle in his hands, and he stiffly held it out to Childe while attempting to brush off his nerves.
"Yes, yes," Dottore muttered dismissively. "So hurry up and take it."
Childe didn't need to be told twice. He snatched the package out of Dottore's hands before he had a chance to change his mind, popping the bag open and peering inside enthusiastically.
What he found inside was definitely a surprise. Not necessarily in a good way, but certainly not in a bad way, either. It was simply… intriguing. Another curious little mystery to be gradually unfolded in front of him.
Childe reached into the satchel and pulled out the circular object within, grinning in intrigue.
"It's a catalyst?" Childe sought to confirm, flipping the thing around in his hands and studying it further. It was a simple design, though not unimpressive. Its main components were five flat, metal loops suspended around a single uncut gemstone in the center, not looking particularly valuable but exceptionally large and thrumming with untapped energy. The meandering, swirling scrollwork carved into the loops looked reminiscent of Fontainois ironwork - old, old Fontainois ironwork. Childe may not have known well enough to tell anyone what time the people of Fontaine took their supper, or whether or not a diplomat could rest his elbows on their tables, but the one bit of worldliness he cared enough to maintain was his knowledge of weaponry and warfare throughout the ages. And just by looking at it, he could wager that this particular piece was several centuries old - pre-Cataclysm for certain, perhaps even forged in the midst of the Archon War. And while that was all very interesting, the question remained why Dottore would procure such an item for him. Childe was fairly well versed in the craft, but catalysts were not typically his first choice of weaponry. The raw power catalysts could offer allogenes was appealing, but the inherent passiveness of the stance while wielding it… not so much.
"It is," Dottore replied. He relaxed a little as Childe earnestly studied the catalyst, grateful for the opportunity to go off on a smoother tangent. "I know you prefer to be a bit more… hands-on out in the field, but I had a feeling you would still have interest in this.”
Childe looked at him expectantly, open to hearing more. Dottore properly took this as permission to continue.
"I came across this piece in the course of my research, in the plains of rural Fontaine,” Dottore explained. “It was in a funny little tourist trap just off the main road. The older couple that ran the place would stop travelers on their way out and tell them that they’d wandered onto unholy ground, cursed by the blood of fallen gods. They would then go on to tell them about their vast collection of holy relics on display at the little museum they put together, and that paying homage to such a selection was the only way to return good fortune to them on their travels. For the very generous price of a viewing ticket, of course. The majority of these relics were worthless, naturally, and the couple running the place were well aware they were lying. Rather, they thought they were lying. Obviously, the whole reason I was even there was because they had unwittingly set up shop on one of the most active sites for residual Archon activity our scouts clocked in Fontaine. Oh, you should have seen the looks on their faces when our troops were brought in to evict them from the premises. They went ghost white when they heard of it. I think they were sure they would be tried for heresy.
"Before our men got them out, though, I noticed this catalyst standing apart from the rest of their 'relics.' I asked them what they knew of it, and they nearly fainted. They knew the stories surrounding it, but had assumed it to be another tall tale, like all the others they had spun themselves. All they said was that if I was a god-fearing man, I'd be wise to leave the thing be. Since I am not, obviously I had to look into it.
"It's an enchanted Fontainois ruby, encroached by hand-crafted steel with a gilded finish. It was probably forged sometime in the middle of the Archon War, and as you can see, has remained in miraculous condition since then. And out of all the pieces in that sorry little museum, it was the one that seemed to be a bit infamous.
"There was a local legend about that catalyst… something about it once belonging to an ancient, passive god that existed during the war. He was meant to face off against a war-hungry, feral counterpart that sought to usurp the land of Fontaine and treat the people with it as his own personal hunting stock. But naturally, when it came time for combat, the warring god disarmed the passive god easily. As the story goes, the warring god turned to gloat to the bystanders before delivering the killing blow. And when he turned around - whack . The passive god, in an act of desperation, rejected his vow of passivity, brandishing his catalyst like a handaxe and splitting the warring god's skull open like a melon. And that, supposedly, is the very catalyst that did it.”
Dottore paused for a moment, just to grimace and shrug his shoulders.
"I don't know,” he continued. “It's… a very strange tale to tell at all, considering neither of them even ended up winning. I think there's supposed to be some lesson in regards to not abandoning your principles - the Fontainois couldn't tell a good story of their lives depended on it, honestly, so it didn't really surprise me. What did surprise me, however, was that it was all completely true. That site was absolutely teeming with residual Archon activity leftover from the war, and the essence emanating off of that thing contributed no small part to those readings. The people in the area all knew it as a deeply cursed object."
As Childe listened to this tale, the thing in his hands gradually became more and more enticing as the story went on. By the end of it, he was unabashedly beaming. As Dottore paused for a breath, Childe looked at him with round eyes of wonderment, almost glistening with affection.
"So you-" Childe couldn't finish at first, letting out an awestruck laugh at his own giddiness. "So what you're saying is… You got me a cursed catalyst for my birthday?"
Dottore scoffed, giving a disapproving flick of his wrist.
"Oh, don't use that word so earnestly. It is not cursed . That's such a pedestrian term, and it gives into the notion that one greater power is somehow more or less virtuous than another. If anything, the more accurate phrasing would be to say it's haunted." Dottore pursed his lips in amusement then, looking smug as he continued. "But yes. The catalyst is haunted. With the vengeful essence of a crazed, omnipotent warlord."
Childe nearly swooned at the thought. With that, he wasted no more time in activating the catalyst, his Vision pulsating gently at his side as he tapped into its energy. The catalyst slowly began to levitate out of his palm, the metal loops starting to revolve around the gem in the center in a showy cycle.
Oh. That was… different. It was indeed quite a novel sensation compared to the other catalysts he'd wielded before. Catalysts, ideally, were valued for their ease of use, once one grew accustomed to the art of channeling their elemental energy into them. They were an extension of one's spirit; it was supposed to be second nature, almost effortless in execution. To Childe, that inherent effortlessness felt a bit lackluster. But this - this felt like a dying star suspended in the palm of his hand, like something unfathomably dense and chaotic and caught between being a living thing and an absence of body. Just waving it around in front of him was exhilarating, and felt like a daring challenge. His mind began to swim with all the possibilities. He'd definitely have to take it for a spin on his next excursion. And all the history behind it… brandished like a handaxe and used to split a warring god's head in two, huh? He might have to give that a go, if he was so lucky to stumble upon the opportunity.
Childe, transfixed on the weapon, finally caught a glimpse of Dottore out of the corner of his eye. Dottore was smiling at him - one of those rare, genuine smiles of his, one that wasn't full of biting teeth or closed-mouth derision. It was gentle, brimming with affection, and of course fell the moment he realized he'd been caught staring. Dottore quickly averted his gaze, glancing over at the other end of the room as if something interesting had suddenly manifested there. He cleared his throat loudly.
"I trust this is suited to your tastes, then?" Dottore asked casually.
"I love it," Childe said without hesitation.
Dottore scrunched up his nose in a gesture that had become very familiar to Childe, an attempt to stave off another sincere grin threatening to pull at his lips. "Well. Good. Happy Birthday, then."
Childe let out another giddy, contented laugh, letting the catalyst float back down into his hands. As he took hold of the dormant object, getting ready to stuff it back in the bag for safe keeping, a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"This is… safe, right?"
"For you? Absolutely." Dottore paused briefly, tapping a finger against his chin in thought. "Well. Maybe try not to handle it without gloves, if it can be avoided. If not… Ah, I'm sure it will be fine. Just try not to let anyone near it if they're especially… impressionable."
Childe grimaced a bit, but simply threw it back into the bag with a shrug. Probably wouldn't be the best souvenir to bring home, then. But that sat alright with him. He didn't intend to go around bragging about it, anyway. It felt more special than that. It was something far more personal than just a trophy to show off.
Once the catalyst was safe and sound in its satchel, Childe could no longer contain himself. Dottore still had his head turned a bit to the side, trying to look nonchalant, so Childe took his face in his hands before he had a chance to protest. Turning Dottore towards him, he swept in to join their lips together. Dottore let out a little noise of surprise before it was quickly swallowed up, stumbling half a step backward from the weight of Childe's enthusiasm.
They kissed for a moment like this, slow and tender, until Childe finally pulled away to look him in the eyes.
"I love it," Childe repeated, voice ringing with conviction. "Thank you."
This time, Dottore's smile could not escape his gaze. Still, his eyes drifted downwards with a flutter of his lashes, and he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly even as his hands came up to cover Childe's.
"Yes. Well," Dottore muttered, suddenly growing a little downcast. "We may as well have one thing to celebrate while we're here. And this is…"
Dottore trailed off, looking regretful that he had even started. But after a moment, he just sighed, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the top of Childe's hand.
"This is the one matter that he wishes he could have attended to personally," Dottore finished somberly.
Childe frowned, his heart feeling heavy. It was rare, the times he conjured up the image of Dottore's Prime Segment specifically, even if only to imagine him mirroring the same utterly dejected expression that this one was wearing now. And it did sting a little.
But Childe quickly pushed this to the back of his mind. Instead of focusing on it, he just smiled, abruptly dipping his head forward to steal another kiss. Then, he kissed him again. And again, and again, and again, until the shape of Dottore's mouth had curled upwards. Childe pulled back once he felt it, and looked once again upon the gentle smile there. And with the regretful visage once standing in front of him now extinguished, so too did the heart-wrenching image in Childe’s head dissolve away.
"Come on," Childe urged with a laugh, pressing their noses together affectionately. "I thought we were celebrating. And it's just like you said, anyway: you're here. You made an appearance. And this one is as good as any other."
It wasn't just talk - Childe believed that from the bottom of his heart. And never did he believe it more than when Dottore was there, standing right in front of him, with that rare, sweet smile on his face.
Childe didn't pretend to know exactly how this all worked. But there was one thing he trusted in beyond all else; if he tried hard enough, Childe was sure he could make every last part of him smile like this, regardless of where they were.