— Paring: Scaramouche/ Wanderer x Reader
— Tags: short, fluff, light angst
— Summary: Scaramouche arguing with and then comforting you in his own way.
— Word count: 779
— Anonymous request
— Ao3
“I didn’t mean to fall for you.” Scaramouche grumbled.
"And neither did I." You reacted in a similarly bitter tone.
"Excuse me? Do you dare to say it again?"
Scaramouche and you were arguing over insignificant things. You two had always been like that from the first time you met. You didn't understand why he and you could be lovers at all.
"You heard it," you exasperatedly say. "What made me fall in love with you? You're arrogant, you never confess when you're wrong, and you always disregard others, even my feelings!"
"Is that how you really see me?"
Scaramouche arched his brow. He seemed uneasy, as if he had been smacked across the face. And you had only just poked the hive. Every other time you were the one to ignore him, because you were so aware of his unlikable temper. Today, though, was different. It was time to make things clear with Scaramouche.
"That's right."
Everything in front of you became blurry, your nose began to burn, and you struggled to prevent your voice from trembling. You were not a crybaby; you just wanted to frighten Scaramouche so he would be gentle with you. And yet, somehow, you started crying for real.
"You always say hurtful things to people and never apologize! I honestly don't know how I've put up with you for so long..."
Scaramouche was taken aback. He froze, and his face turned unpleasant. After about a minute of reframing the situation, he stated:
"If you find me that unbearable, I'll leave."
You were not given time to react when you saw Scaramouche launch into the sky and disappeared.
"Eh?..."
You were so taken aback and perplexed by his actions that your tears had all dried up. You could never expect comfort from Scaramouche, not one bit.
So, you were upset all day. You were not in the mood to do commissions either. All the monsters you encountered on the road seemed to avoid you, shivering behind the bushes at the sight of the deadly aura radiating from you.
You arrived home in the evening in a condition of intense exhaustion and rage. You wanted to punch something so bad, then you heard the front door open. Without much thought, you ****ed out there with a punch.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
A hand stretched in front of you deflected your strike. It was Scaramouche. In his other hand, he was carrying a small basket of food.
"Are you still upset with me?" He inquired nonchalantly.
"Of course!" You yelled.
"I suppose so, too. Therefore, I prepared something for you."
Distracted by the scent of his cuisine, you followed Scaramouche inside. He set the food on the table for you.
"This is my special dish, Shimi Chazuke."
"Is this your gesture of reconciliation with me?"
Scaramouche said nothing further but encouraged you to eat quickly. His eyes appeared to be remorseful. With your chopsticks, you took a bit of rice. The bitter flavor of tea blended with the sweetness of rice in your tongue. Perhaps Scaramouche, like this Shimi Chazuke, might be both irritating and endearing.
After the meal, you felt less angry with him. Scaramouche, on the other hand, had yet to apologize. He just inquired:
"Delicious?"
"Delicious." You nodded.
"After you've finished eating, wash the dishes yourself."
You locked your gaze on Scaramouche. He appeared to be apologizing to you, but something was not quite right. You stated:
"Didn't you prepare this to make peace with me?"
"That's correct. You've finished it all, which means you're out of anger with me."
You drew your arms over your chest:
"When did I say I wasn't mad at you any longer? You even make me do the dishes now!"
Scaramouche looked down at the empty bowl without a grain of rice, then back at you.
"How come you've eaten so well?"
When Scaramouche was just about to say something that threatened to ignite another fight between you and him, your eyes immediately began to shed tears.
For a single second, his eyes indicated concern. Then he went back to his regular arrogant demeanor.
"Alright then." He said, "Since you're a crybaby, Y/N, I'm going to wash the dishes today."
He got up, packed everything, and went into the kitchen. You fixed your gaze on his back. It was the first time you felt you had prevailed over Scaramouche.
"Oh, wait!" You dashed into the kitchen and said, "You haven't apologized to me yet!"
Scaramouche pretended not to hear you. It was true that he would never confess being wrong, but the fact that he was willing to cook to comfort you was a significant step forward.
-The end-
