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Kaeya had told himself that he's going home after a glass of Death After Noon.
He’s been assigned to morning patrol the next day, and he can’t afford to be hungover (even though it’s a tempting option) because he’ll never hear the end of it from Jean. Or from Amber. Or even from his brother, who calls him and the Knights of Favonius “useless and inefficient.”
Tonight, is a bad night to drink, he thinks. It’s uneventful. There are only a few patrons who visited that were willing to talk to him, and the topics of conversation were duller than a Dull Blade. Occasionally, some women who had paid a visit to the tavern would approach him and ask him about his day, to which he replies with a smile and a flirtatious remark or two that would leave them swooning. Otherwise, nothing.
He sighs as he places his chin in his hand in thought and lazily moves the wineglass in his hand from side to side, causing the burgundy liquid inside to swirl.
Archons, if you hear me, make this night more favorable for a dashing knight like I am so I won’t waste the one glass of Death After Noon that I promised myself to drink for the evening.
Perhaps, Barbatos listens. Perhaps, Barbatos blows his ever-guiding wind to the tavern to fulfill a “dashing knight’s” prayer. Perhaps that’s what Kaeya thinks when the door to the tavern suddenly opens a few minutes after the last word of his prayer.
Ah.
“Good evening, Chief Alchemist,” he greets the newcomer with a wave.
Chief Alchemist Albedo gives him a curt nod. “Good evening, Sir Kaeya.” He settles into the bar stool next to Kaeya and asks the bartender for a glass of dandelion wine.
Kaeya peers at Albedo over his wineglass. His features are soft and dainty and handsome, especially his bright turquoise eyes that seem to shine under the tavern lights. Unknowingly, he smirks as he takes in Albedo’s slim, petite figure (Albedo would not appreciate him calling him petite but the thoughts are in his head, anyway.) He suppresses a chuckle at the sight of his feet barely touching the floor.
Albedo hears it, regardless. “What are you chuckling at, Sir Kaeya?” He swivels in his seat, cocking an eyebrow at the Captain. Kaeya smirks as he takes a sip of his wine. He deduces Albedo’s question was out of pure curiosity and not of smugness. Then again, Albedo has a knack of concealing his true intentions.
“I remembered a faint memory,” Kaeya says. The slight furrow in Albedo’s brows hint that he’s not buying the explanation, but he doesn’t press on. He takes a sip from his own wineglass instead. Kaeya does the same and looks forlornly at the remaining liquid in his glass. He promised himself one. Just one.
Then again, the night had only begun.
“So,” he begins, crossing his arms and leaning against the bar. “What brings you to Angel’s Share? Tired of locking yourself in your laboratory? Or is the sheer cold of Dragonspine already too much for you?”
Albedo trains his gaze at his wineglass, tilting slightly from side to side. He examines things with an analytical gaze even as he drinks. He hums. “I enjoy solitude in my laboratory, so I’m not really tired of it. As for Dragonspine, my research there is nearly complete.” He sets the glass down on the bar and looks at Kaeya. “I just think I haven’t drunk dandelion wine in a while. It’d be a shame to not indulge in Mondstadt’s specialties every now and then.”
Kaeya chuckles. “You should try Death After Noon. It’s sparkling wine and three parts of dandelion wine mixed into one delectable concoction.”
“Maybe I should,” the alchemist says in thought. “It’d be an experiment reserved for another time.”
“I’ll treat you to it the next time we meet.”
Albedo shakes his head. “That will be unnecessary. I have a sufficient amount of Mora to pay for my own indulgences. Keep it to yourself, Sir Kaeya.”
Ah, he’s ever serious. Unfazed to advances, even.
“Suit yourself,” Kaeya shrugs. He downs the rest of his drink and sets the glass on the counter. For yet another time this evening, his lips turn up to form a smirk. “Drinking is much better with a companion to tell stories to,” he suddenly says, as-a-matter-of-factly. “Since you’re here with me, why don’t you tell me about your recent findings? I’m curious as to what research you’re doing in such extreme weather conditions.”
Kaeya hopes to see just a glint of expression grace Albedo’s neutral visage. When he peers at him, however, his stoic front is unfazed.
The Kreideprinz is a peculiar thing, indeed.
He hears him hum in thought. “Alright, I suppose I could tell you just a bit.”
“Wonderful,” he says. He motions for the bartender. “Another glass of Death After Noon, if you will.”
Kaeya hasn’t remembered anything that Albedo had told him thus far.
There’s only a certain “dragon” (another dragon in Mondstadt?) and poisonous sword that comes to mind. The rest is blurred from memory, either by the alcohol or the too incomprehensible scientific jargon his tipsy brain can’t process.
Perhaps it’s the alcohol. From the corner of his eye, three empty wineglasses glimmer in the tavern lights.
He’d promised himself one glass. Just one.
Conversation has slowly faded away at this point. The tavern has gone silent as people slowly stumble out of it in a drunken haze. At this time of night, (or dawn? Kaeya doesn’t know.) they’re the only persons left.
His mind is buzzing with the amount of alcohol he’s consumed to not bore himself with the previous topic. Truth be told he’s just a little bit interested in some aspects of Albedo’s research, but he can’t stand the too-serious, too-formal topic. Perhaps, it’s a reason to hold conversation between the mysterious Kreideprinz, an excuse to pique his interest for a while just so he can revel in his handsome sight just for a longer while.
People can never get ahold of Albedo. One time, he’s roaming the streets of Mondstadt without uttering any words between curious citizens, and the next he’s gone off to his laboratory again with his apprentice, Timaeus and his timid assistant, Sucrose. Other times, one can find him in Starsnatch Cliff, sketching Cecilias or hilichurls. Or in Dragonspine to research, where no one sane would dare come in fear of being frostbitten by sheer cold.
Kaeya knows all the people in Mondstadt by heart except him. Mondstadt’s beloved citizens would gladly open up to him with just a flirtatious smirk or a heart-racing comment or a drinking session in the tavern.
But, the Kreideprinz seems to be unfazed with whatever he does.
That makes him all the more interesting.
Kaeya’s not drunk enough to bring himself to order another glass of Death After Noon, although it’s a tempting offer. The thought of Acting Grand Master Jean chiding him for being late and hungover for morning patrol urges him not to. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he contents himself for being drunk over the addicting, almost intoxicating sight of Chief Alchemist Albedo.
Who, to Kaeya’s surprise, is staring at him intently.
"Whaddya staring at me for, huh, Chief Alchemist?" Kaeya slurs. His eyes are glassed over as he drunkenly places his chin in his hand as he takes a closer look. "That look... I know that look." Kaeya notes. He’s bluffing, though. He can’t read Albedo at all.
Albedo hums as he tilts his head slightly to the side. "What look?"
"That look you're giving me, ya pretty thing," Kaeya says, tilting his chair forward until it teeters haphazardly on only two legs. His eyes are half-lidded now, and his mouth forms a lopsided smirk. He’s far into the act, might as well continue it. He’s drank enough liquid courage for tonight. "You look like you want to kiss me so bad, huh?"
Albedo hums again (Archons know what wonders that hum does to Kaeya’s poor heart.) He places his elbow on the counter of the tavern and places his chin in his hand as he leans forward in Kaeya's direction. His stoic expression remains as he whispers softly.
"And what if I do?"
Kaeya's balancing act on his chair suddenly fails and he almost falls backward on the bar stool as he suddenly shifts his weight. His breath hitches in his throat as his heart almost leaps from his chest. His pupils are blown wide. His jaw drops. His face feels hot. Too hot. It's the alcohol, perhaps. He's not flustered. He never gets flustered. He's the one doing the flustering around in Mondstadt. Not the other way around.
He peers from the corner of his eye if there's someone manning the counter as witness. There's no one. He sighs in relief. He'll never hear the end of it from the bartender once this whole scene is over. Especially if Diluc's manning the bar. The kind, sweet brother that he is would tuck the memory away for safekeeping, like a trump card, ready to brandish in front of him in an argument to catch him off-guard.
He's not religious, but he says a little prayer. Thank the Seven Archons.
But, the Seven Archons are not helping him at this point in the current situation. Surely, they had a hand in making the whole scene more favorable, but they're not brushing away the red dusting his cheeks or evening out his breathing. They're not making Albedo turn his beautiful turquoise eyes away from him, or even pulling on the muscles of his face to mold a hint of expression on his visage. The Archons aren't even stopping Albedo from inching his face closer and closer to his until he can feel his warm breath on his skin.
"You really do, huh," Kaeya whispers in the small gap between their faces. A corner of his lips turns up to form a small smirk to put on a smug face, but it doesn't hide the visible redness of his cheeks. It doesn't do anything to quell the butterflies erupting in his stomach.
He wonders if Albedo is in the same state as he is; acting indifferent on the outside, but bursting with emotion on the inside. Perhaps, it's the alcohol he'd drank earlier that made him as bold as he is right now. But he shows no signs of obvious alcohol intoxication. Plus, some of the knights he had drunk with on previous, choice occasions tell him that he handles his alcohol pretty well. And he's only had a glass of dandelion wine for the evening (what a shame that it wasn't Death After Noon.)
“Don’t you want to?” Albedo asks. Kaeya’s breath almost hitches in his throat as their lips barely brush with every word that the alchemist spoke. For the first time, he’s speechless. Should he tell him that he’s been thinking of how soft his lips would feel on his own since the start of the evening, or how he’d want to taste the dandelion wine on his lips intertwined with the lingering taste of Death After Noon in his tongue? Should he tell him that it’s the first time he’s craved for something so bad that he’s willing to take in too much of liquid courage that he never thought he needed before until he came walking through the door?
In the end he doesn’t tell him any of these things. Nor does he attempt to take it upon himself to stop Albedo’s stalling (or was it his way of teasing?) and just kiss him there and then. He’s not drunk enough to do that.
Perhaps he should’ve ordered another glass of wine.
The only thing his tipsy brain can push him to do, is to lift a hand up to cup Albedo’s face.
The alchemist’s cheek is warm against his cool hand and he relishes in the warmth. Kaeya watches as his eyelids slowly drop, as if submitting to his touch just slightly. Although, Archons know who has the upper hand in this situation.
Albedo takes this action as an answer. Kaeya holds his breath in anticipation as Albedo finally, finally moves to close the little distance that they have.
It’s a touch, barely even a press, but Kaeya feels every good thing about Albedo’s lips all at once. Its softness, its warmth, its taste. The lingering taste of dandelion wine on his lips mingles just slightly with the remnants of Death After Noon on his own. And it’s delicious, intoxicating. He wants more. He needs more of it.
His hands wander to his collar just to give him a slight pull toward the right direction, yes, just a little more to –
“Sir Kaeya, Sir Albedo?”
Too soon, both of them pull away to look at the intruder that has conveniently came at the right moment. Charles’ already reddened cheeks deepen in color as Kaeya glares at him. He coughs in his fist and straightens up awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact with the two men.
After the scene he’d witnessed, how could he?
“Uh…” he begins. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “We’ll uh… be closing soon.”
Albedo hums. He hops off the bar stool and straightens his clothes. “Duly noted, Charles. Thank you.” He turns toward Kaeya. “Can you go home by yourself, Sir Kaeya?”
Kaeya is baffled. There he is again, stoic, tight-lipped, stiff. Like nothing happened. He stands from his seat and tries to pretend that he didn’t go slightly off-balance. “I can,” he says, uncharacteristically cold.
“Good. Well then, I bid you a good night.”
And there he goes. He had come in the tavern as if he’d been led there by Barbatos’ wind, but he leaves as if he’d been whisked away by it.
Perhaps, Barbatos is a trickster. Or he’s teaching him a lesson on how he can’t have too much all at the same time.
He glares at Charles. “Not a word.” Charles nods frantically.
The door to the tavern closes behind him with a loud thud when he leaves. He sighs as he brings his fingers up to his lips and closes his eyes. Perhaps this slight touch would make him remember the feeling again.
It doesn’t though. What the Kreideprinz touches doesn’t linger, he learns.
But maybe, if the Kreideprinz touches a little longer, a little deeper, it will imprint itself on his skin, on his memory.
Kaeya chuckles to himself.
Even though the Kreideprinz’s touches don’t linger, they do make him crave it more.
He’s going to need a lot of Death After Noon. And a little bit of privacy.