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Aether approaches Diluc silently, gold-encrusted boots padding softly against the softer ground. His lips are set in a thin line as they always are, but his eyes are gentle, relaxed. The golden hue of the sun only further softens them, making the young man look radiant as he approaches the quiet river where Diluc bathes.
“For the last time, Kaeya, I—”
Diluc turns around with an irritated look, chartreuse eyes blazing a bold red.
Those same eyes soften the moment Diluc sees that it’s Aether who has approached him.
“Ah—it’s you, Traveler. Forgive me, I did not—”
Diluc sinks his body into the river, hiding his exposed chest until only his head pokes out of the water. Aether can’t help but smile at that, for it shows what a unique relationship Kaeya and Diluc truly have: how they loathe each other to the utmost and yet are so close at the same time, so familiar with one another that Diluc’s cheeks only now flush when he realizes that it was Aether he nearly flashed, not Kaeya.
“No need to apologize,” Aether says, smiling. The short laughter that spills past his lips is airy like the wind, and it seems to dance in the air before it subsides. “I came here to give you this. Kaeya said you’d want it.”
Diluc is quick to catch the tiny bottle Aether tosses him, staring at it before his eyes shift from confusion to understanding.
“Shampoo, right?” Aether cocks his head to the side, staring at the bright blue glow of the glass bottle’s contents.
“Slime condensate, actually. Though it serves roughly the same purpose. Better for the environment, you see, and it’s easier for us adventurers to use since we can find more in nature whenever we run out rather than having to carry an excess of soap around.”
“Interesting. Does the elemental residue from it boost your strength?”
“Perhaps. You’d have to ask Albedo about something like that. Knowing him, he’s probably already done an experiment on it.” An amused smile crosses Diluc’s face at the thought of the alchemist, and he soon beckons Aether to take a step forward. “Here, try some. Maybe you’ll be able to awaken some kind of elemental talent from it.”
Aether bends his knees to offer a hand to Diluc as the man uncaps his bottle and pours an eighth of its contents into the blonde’s palm.
The traveler is left confused about what to do, but he understands how to work the odd goo as soon as he sees Diluc pour some of it into his own hands. Keeping a watchful eye on the Pyro user’s actions, Aether repeats Diluc’s hand motions, rubbing the condensate between his two palms until it’s grown warm and has turned a brighter shade of blue. He watches, then, as Diluc massages the substance into his hair, the bright blue condensate wrapping around every red strand it comes into contact with.
“Wash it out quickly, or it’ll dry on your hands.”
Aether glances down and, sure enough, the condensate has already begun to harden. He kneels forward quickly, rubbing his hands together underwater to free his hands from the sticky substance, but it only seems to cling tighter to his fingers the longer Aether tries to force them underwater. Soon enough, Diluc notices his predicament.
“Ah, that happens sometimes.” Kind words, spoken to ease any embarrassment Aether might feel at having a slime condensate stuck against his palm, but the traveler swears there’s an undertone of amusement to them.
“Here, let me.”
Diluc separates Aether’s hands and pulls a long strand of his hair into Aether’s palms, holding it above the already-solidifying condensate. Sure enough, after five seconds of pause, the stickiness has stopped clinging so ardently to Aether’s palms and Diluc is able to swipe all the condensate away into his hair.
“How did you…”
“Slime condensate has unusual properties. You get used to it after a while.”
Diluc shoots Aether another smile, one that is heartwarmingly natural, before he begins to pull away, but the traveler’s palm instinctively closes over the strand of hair that remains in his palm.
“...Aether?”
It takes a moment for the man to realize why Diluc is staring at him in such confusion, but as soon as the understanding comes, Aether is flinching away, releasing Diluc’s hair with a humiliated flush painting his cheeks.
“I—err—” Diluc seems to be at a loss for words for once, the usually composed man stumbling over his words as he, too, recoils in embarrassment.
A beat of silence passes between them.
“Would you like to—ah—” Diluc pauses, sinking beneath the water once more. “Would you like to wash my hair, traveler?”
Say no, is Aether’s immediate urge. It was embarrassing enough that he held onto Diluc’s hair when the man was ready to pull away: to try and take things further would be tomfoolery. But then, Aether realizes that whatever insecurities blazed through his heart now seem to thump through the mind of the man in front of him, and the traveler doesn’t think he can bear the guilt of being responsible for those hurt eyes.
“My apologies, traveler. That was a foolish offer. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable with my—”
“I want to,” Aether interrupts carefully, reaching over and sliding his boots off. “I want to wash your hair, Diluc. If you’d let me.”
And it’s entirely awkward, but the shaky nod Diluc gives is all the encouragement Aether before he leans forward and unwraps Diluc’s fingers around the small bottle of condensate, taking it into his own palms before pouring more of the gooey substance between his fingers and rubbing them together. Wordlessly, Diluc turns around so that his back faces Aether, the beautiful tresses of red that the traveler has stared at on so many occasions prior now directly before him, and Aether begins to touch.
The sensation is divine.
Diluc’s skin is hot as Aether massages the condensate into his scalp, hot and responsive as Aether’s nails scratch against the skin. Diluc lets out a quiet gasp before leaning into Aether’s touch, and Aether does it again to produce the same results.
“Your hair is soft,” Aether mutters, more to himself than to Diluc. He wonders if it’s a result of prolonged use of slime condensate as a shampoo. Perhaps it’s caused by Diluc’s stringent avoidance of alcohol, something the traveler can hardly attest to from his ale-filled adventures in previous worlds. Or maybe this is just Diluc, a man of honor and loyalty, a man of grape juice and adventures, a man of soft hair and exotic shampoos.
Aether runs his hands through Diluc’s tresses, combing them with his fingers as he moves from scalp to tip, tracing the path of every strand of hair and then repeating the process all over again because touching Diluc’s hair is entrancing, even if it’s now completely slicked by condensate and Aether technically has no purpose here anymore.
And really—who can blame the traveler?
It’s not Diluc’s hair that’s intoxicating so much as it is his presence, his energy, his kindness in letting Aether bask in it all for a little longer. Aether runs his hands through Diluc’s hair again, savoring its feeling, its smoothness, its warmth.
And if Diluc feels the featherlight kiss Aether presses to the tip of one lock of hair, he says nothing about it, merely leaning his head back so the boy can continue his ministrations.