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“To a fruitful collaboration between our two nations. There is no better foundation than one of drink!” The wine in the Snezhnayan merchant’s glass glittered as he raised it in a toast, the color of it a testament to the good vintage Diluc had pulled from the Dawn Winery cellars. Kaeya sat at the opposite end of the table, a much less prestigious vintage in his own glass. He was surprised he’d even merited an invitation to this dinner; he supposed he should be glad enough that the drink in his glass was wine and not juice. He raised his glass along with the rest of the table, his eye lingering on Diluc. The Snezhnayan merchants had brought a bottle of their fire-water, looking for an in-road into Mondstadt’s alcohol industry, and despite what Kaeya was sure he must have heard about it, Diluc had accepted a glass of it with nothing more than a polite nod. Back at his end of the table, Kaeya dug his fingers into his leg, clutching at the fabric of his pants as he watched Diluc swallow the contents of the glass in one smooth motion. The Snezhnayans all cheered, one of them even having the gall to clap Diluc on the back; the lack of response Diluc gave him was strangely satisfying. Kaeya at least knew he could get a snide comment or a sharp look out of Diluc; he hoarded them, perhaps, each one a sign that Diluc cared enough to respond to him. That he still was important enough for a response.
He watched Diluc for a minute more, as long as he could spare before the others seated at the outskirts of the table began to feel left out of his sparkling conversation. Perhaps his intel on fire-water had been incorrect. Diluc looked steady enough, nodding at something the woman seated next to him was saying and murmuring something in response. He was too far away for Kaeya to truly read his lips, not without taking a besotted-looking pose to concentrate. Something in Kaeya’s gut curled, too soft to be jealousy, too sour to be anything else. Why had he been invited? He was the only member of the Knights of Favonius at the table, seated too far down to occupy a family member’s place. Much like every interaction they’d had since that rainy day when everything had changed, Kaeya felt adrift, grasping at any reaction, any hint of emotion he could pull from Diluc before he could close himself away more fully or retreat into his plans for retribution. The years Diluc had been gone had widened that rift between them, and sometimes Kaeya didn’t know if it could ever be bridged. With one last glance up to the head of the table, he threw back the rest of his wine, echoing Diluc’s earlier motion.
The rest of the dinner was uneventful. The Snezhnayan and the Mondstandtian merchants all shook hands as they stood from the table, having drunk themselves into an agreeable mood. Several of them clasped Diluc on the shoulder once more, and it was only because Kaeya was watching not-at-all-jealously that he even caught it: the slight stagger under one of the lighter hands falling on his back, a slower than normal recovery from it. And now that he was looking, he could see the slight tremor of Diluc’s hand as he refrained from clenching it into a fist.
“Are you coming? We can share a carriage back to the city.” The man who’d been seated across from Kaeya at the table nudged his side, looking at Kaeya curiously.
“You go ahead; I’ll find my own way back.” He let his lips turn up as he cocked his head at the man meaningfully. “I wouldn’t dare interfere with your chances for the night.” He laughed as the man’s eyes darted toward the figure already disappearing into his carriage. “See you around.”
“You too,” the man said, leaving Kaeya on the steps of Dawn Winery, wondering once more just what he was doing. As he moved closer to Diluc, he could see that the hollow of his throat, just visible above his shirt and properly-knotted cravat, was glistening with sweat. Diluc’s expression gave nothing away, and his voice was still steady as he bade the last of the merchants farewell. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back as they got into their carriages; as Kaeya closed in, he could see Diluc’s knuckles turning white. His eye darted toward the departing vehicles, willing them to leave faster. So he could do what, he didn’t know just yet.
As the wheels of the last carriage began to turn, he chose his words carefully, as delicately as snatching a crystalfly from the air. Something else he was rusty at, left behind in childhood. Before he could get the first word out, however, Diluc turned sharply and strode back through the doors to the manor, letting them slam behind him.
“Oh dear.” From next to Kaeya, Hillie shook her head. Kaeya simply raised his eyebrow at her. She’d just started at the old manor when he’d...left, but Diluc had kept as much of the staff as warranted when he’d come back and taken the mantle back up, a small show of sentimentality that had given Kaeya hope at the time. Now, he pressed his advantage as someone who wasn’t merely another outsider.
“Is that common these days?” A soft smile to ease Hillie’s nerves, and a thread of concern in his voice that he didn’t have to entirely fake. Something had been off, and as many times as he’d imagined slamming a door in Diluc’s face if he ever came to talk about them and where things had broken, he knew he’d open that door after a beat. For all of his reputation as a charmer, he’d never truly gotten over his first love.
Hillie’s hands clenched once in her apron, her open expression clearly battling with telling her master’s secrets. She looked at Kaeya, searching for something and finding it there. “He’s been working such long hours, and he was already coming back late and hardly sleeping, and we’d had orders to leave him alone after this dinner, to just leave meals at his door until he gave orders otherwise, but I can’t help but worry. What’s he gotten himself into this time?” She turned fully toward Kaeya, reaching for his hands as if to entreat him, but then pulled them back before she could. “Are you worried about him too? Do you think you could go see to him? He might…” She bit her lip, looking down. “As much as he speaks harshly, he lets you get away with being concerned about him.”
This was news to Kaeya. A hundred shrugged shoulders, brushed off touches, “I’m fine”s all echoed in his mind. They’d shared so much in their youth that even though he knew he got away with more than most, it still felt like being shut out compared to that, searching for a way through a thicket of thorns, rebuffed at every attempt.
Something ignited in his chest, combined with the sinking suspicion that his intelligence about fire-water had been correct after all.
“So long as I don’t see any bills for broken pottery,” Kaeya joked as he moved forward, letting Hillie open the door for him. “Something about my methods always ends the same way.” His eyes darted towards a particularly ostentatious vase he’d always hated, but that Diluc insisted was an heirloom. Maybe he could find a way to have that one broken. He could replace it with a vase that would clash, something with bright colors that would force Diluc to think of him every time he saw it. It would be as out of place here as he had been, even if he’d forgotten that for a time.
He hadn’t grown up in this house, but they’d visited often enough, in summers and on holidays, back when the vineyards surrounding the grounds had just been part of how they defined their father instead of a future. He wondered briefly if he’d have spent as much time at Angel’s Share if it weren’t the most guaranteed access to Diluc. If they would have both had a usual table on the second floor, tucked away in the corner, laughing to each other and sharing stories of their latest expedition. Or if they would have just gone home together, content to relax in each other’s company, blissful and blind to the lies in their love. If Mondstadt hadn’t needed them broken apart more than it needed them together.
Lost in thought, Kaeya had to stop himself from automatically turning right at the top of the stairs; of course Diluc would have installed himself in Crepus’ rooms, as befitting the master of the house. He looked briefly at the door to the room they’d shared as boys; they’d pushed the beds together, the better to whisper to each other after dark and the lamps had been blown out. He wondered where those beds were now, if they’d also been tossed aside.
The door to the main suite was as imposing as he remembered, heavy carved wood and a brass doorknob, shiny and smooth with use and age. It spoke of history and legacy; they both knew more about the pain those could bring than most.
To Kaeya’s surprise, the knob turned at his touch; he’d been ready to craft a key from ice. A smile started to lift at his lips; Diluc clearly trusted his staff to follow his request. Too bad he hadn’t accounted for Kaeya.
His Snezhnayan informant had told him about fire-water and the ill effects it had on pyro vision holders, but Kaeya’s heart still jolted as he opened the door. The first thing he saw was Diluc’s coat upon the ground, followed by his belts and shirt, discarded in a way that took Kaeya a moment to process what he was seeing. A memory flashed: Diluc, carefully hanging up his uniform, brushing the tiniest speck of dust from it before turning to pick up Kaeya’s. “These clothes are a symbol of our duty and dedication to Mondstadt; they deserve respect,” he’d said as he slid Kaeya’s jacket onto a hanger. “Nothing about how it doesn’t do for a gentleman to appear with wrinkles on his clothes?” Kayea had joked, adopting a pontificating pose and grinning at the glare Diluc had thrown his way, but Diluc had just turned back, hanging up Kaeya’s jacket with as much care as he had his own, even as Kaeya had come up behind him to slide his hands along Diluc’s waist. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around, then, so you can respect my uniform for me.”
Now, Kaeya picked up the jacket, brushing the soft leather and starting at the heat still clinging to it. He hadn’t lingered before making his way up to ask after Diluc, but it still should have been long enough that his coat shouldn’t be this hot. His steps picked up as he picked his way to the bed, around other pieces of clothing shed haphazardly. The temperature in the room seemed to grow as he did, until he realized it wasn’t just his imagination, or his body’s natural reaction at seeing Diluc shirtless in bed, his chest heaving and hair matted with sweat against his forehead.
Instantly, Kaeya summoned ice to surround Diluc, strengthening it so that it didn’t all melt at once and soak the sheets. Diluc shivered, moaning softly. Kaeya had once catalogued all the sounds Diluc made, knew every snort of irritation from a cough hiding a laugh; he knew a moan of pain from one of relief or pleasure. This was somewhere in between, a wretched noise that tugged at his heart the same way that the sight of Diluc kneeling in the mud, Crepus’ body in his arms had.
He’d summoned ice that night, too. He’d summoned it for Diluc then, too.
Now, though, he simply summoned crystals of it to hang in the air, absorbing the heat that radiated off of Diluc’s body. As the temperature dropped to something less oppressive, Diluc gasped for breath, pulling it greedily into his lungs.
“Easy,” Kaeya murmured, setting the jacket he still held down on a chair behind him and kneeling by the side of the bed. “If you inhale one of those crystals, I can’t promise it won’t cut your lungs, and we can’t have that, now can we?” Then, as Diluc turned to blearily focus on his face, “Though if someone could find a way to fault how I was helping them after a truly stupid decision, it would be you, wouldn’t it?”
Diluc attempted to narrow his eyes at Kaeya, but then just closed them. He still seemed to be struggling to keep air in his lungs, panting as if it would help him cool off. “Sergei didn’t say anything about hallucinations. Go away.”
“Yes, because that’s my fault and not your poor informant’s.” Kaeya gently brushed some of the hair on Diluc’s forehead off, almost jolting back at the heat of his skin. Looking around for something to use as a cloth for a compress, Kaeya winced slightly and picked up Diluc’s shirt, ripping the sleeve and telling himself that if Diluc felt well enough to notice and scold him, then there was little to worry about. He let the ice melt this time and held the cool compress to Diluc’s forehead; the moan Diluc let out this time was more relief than pain, the slightest tinge of pleasure to it that Kaeya didn’t think anyone but him would catch. As he tried to pull away, however, Diluc grabbed at his hand, clutching at it and trapping him in place. A beat later, Diluc’s eyes widened, staring at their joined hands like it was a hydro Abyss Mage that had teleported into the middle of Angel’s Share.
“If this was all that I needed to get you to hold my hand again, I would’ve invited the Snezhayans myself,” he joked as he prepared for the way Diluc would throw their hands apart, would let them break away like always. But, to his surprise, Diluc held tighter, pressing Kaeya’s hand against his burning face, even as he turned away.
“You’re really here.” His eyes widened a second after, as if only just realizing both that Kaeya was there as well as his own words.
“You invited me.”
“Not into my bedroom.”
“I would’ve accepted that invitation too.” Diluc’s face was hot beneath his hand, and Kaeya wished he could tell if it were from the fever burning through him, or something more, if he also couldn’t let go of what they had been, if he burned with the potential of what they still could be.
“You clearly don’t seem to need an invitation.” The words would have had more bite if Diluc were able to glare, if he weren’t still holding Kaeya’s hand to his face, seeking the relief of the ice on his hands like a cat nudging into a touch and more honest and open than Kaeya had seen him in years. It hurt more than he expected.
“If you knew about fire-water, why did you drink the whole glass?” Kaeya couldn’t help but needle Diluc. “It was a trap.”
Diluc coughed. “Of course it was a trap,” he panted, each word seeming to exhaust him. “I would’ve been disappointed if they hadn’t tried something. I might’ve had to actually sign a deal with them.”
“So why?” Kaeya summoned more ice, wishing briefly there was enough room around them to swirl it around them. He could hold Diluc then, surround them both in a bubble of ice, a world just for them. One that Diluc could break out of the second he wanted to; even if Kaeya’s convictions held firm, Diluc was still his weak spot, the one he’d wanted to risk everything for.. Instead he just let the ice settle around Diluc only, giving the heat somewhere to go other than ravaging Diluc’s body. “What if you weren’t able to get through this?”
“I would’ve.”
“You can’t best poison through stubbornness.”
“You would know, after all.” Kaeya knew that would have been accompanied by an eyeroll if Diluc had had the strength. It might have been; Diluc’s head was still turned from him.
“Just means I’m right.”
“This wouldn’t kill me.”
“How do you know? Sergei is sloppy, but he must’ve told you that even Snezhnayan pyro vision holders don’t imbibe fire-water.”
“It was worth the risk.” The words were broken by the sound of panting, loud in the otherwise quiet room, and something in Kaeya warred between worry for Diluc, aggravation that he was so worried, and desire to see Diluc in bed like this under better circumstances. He shoved that last part of himself down as Diluc continued. “They have nothing to gain by assassinating me like this; they simply want to make Mondstadt look weak. If they think they have the upper hand, the advantage, even just on this front, they will underestimate us on others.” He shuddered this time, a burst of heat intense enough to dry the spots on the sheets where the ice had melted radiating from him.
Kaeya instantly set to swirling more ice around him. His mouth twisted down, letting concern creep into his features when he knew Diluc couldn’t see it. “You should have told me. I know you think the Knights are useless, but I could’ve…” he trailed off as he watched Diluc’s shoulders shudder with another wave of heat or perhaps something more. “I could’ve been here sooner.”
Thoughts of sending ice to whisper across Diluc’s skin during dinner, during the farewells, a secret between them like they used to hold. How easy it would’ve been back then; they might have laughed about their plan, might have ended the night with Kaeya curled around Diluc, leeching heat from him, finding strength in sharing their weak spots.
But if all was as it had been, they’d never be in this situation. “I’m here now, and I’d like to see you make me leave.” He put both hands on Diluc’s skin now, letting the ice cycle so that it would carry the heated air away to the further reaches of the room. “You always were a bad patient.” He could feel Diluc’s shoulders tense at that briefly, but even as Kaeya braced himself for a retort, the muscles under his hands relaxed with a soft laugh.
“Maybe you were just a bad nurse.” The words felt joking, honest as if the fever had burned away the usual bite, leaving only the warmth underlying them, and Kaeya selfishly grasped at that, even as he knew the price this openness came at.
Somehow without his noticing, Diluc had shifted once more, rolling back over to lie flat against the bed, no longer turned from him. Even more without his noticing, Kaeya’s hands had followed the movement, sliding from Diluc’s shoulders to rest on his chest. He found himself even rubbing small soothing circles directly against his skin, the wet compress long fallen by the side. It was just him and Diluc once more, skin to skin. As if the motion of his hands was something he could only continue if he didn’t think about it, Kaeya stopped, starting to pull away and reach for the cloth again.
“You...you don’t have to stop.” It was hard to tell on Diluc’s skin what was a flush from the fire-water and what wasn’t, but the way his eyes darted to the side told Kaeya all he needed to know. “Your hands don’t heat up like the compress,” Diluc tried to cover with. “If you’re going to be here, you might as well be as useful as you can.”
At that, Kaeya grinned. Given an inch… “In that case…” Quickly slipping off his shoes and shucking his shirt, he crowded into the bed alongside Diluc, wrapping his arms around him. “If we’re talking usefulness,” he said blithely, ignoring the way Diluc was stock-still beside him, “this is far more efficient than just my hands.”
He could feel the way Diluc both wanted to fight his touch but still lean into it, the small shifts toward and away from him, seeking out the relief of his ice but balking from the nearness of another person. “Isn’t this better?” Kaeya coaxed, never one to stop needling, especially when it came to Diluc. Under it all still lay concern; he could feel just how much heat was still radiating off of Diluc’s skin, almost as if he lay in front of a fire.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither spoke, nor did anything but just breathe.
Inch by inch, second by second, Kaeya could feel Diluc relax into his arms. They fit together still, perhaps even better than when they’d still been growing, gangly boys. Back then, more often than not they found themselves curled facing each other, heads bowed together and hands entangled as if their bodies could form a shield to protect whatever lay between them.
Now they lay with nothing between them but the chasm that had opened between them that day. “Your heart is racing.” Kaeya hadn’t intended for the simple observation to sound so sultry, but between his lips being right next to Diluc’s ear and the way he couldn’t miss the small hitch in Diluc’s breath as he murmured, he figured he might as well lean into it. “Did you miss me in your bed that much?”
Kaeya was prepared for anything - to be kicked, a sharp “be quiet”, his hand to be slapped away from where his thumb had started skimming over heated skin, even angry, bristling silence - anything but the way Diluc seemed to fidget, the way his silence seemed almost contemplative.
He wanted to press, to ask again, and wondered if he did, if he would have to leave. If he could leave Diluc here to test whether or not he would get through this on his own. Kaeya trusted that Diluc would, the stubborn bastard that he could be, but the thought of leaving him to suffer, to toss and turn with fever alone in this dark room won in the end.
Sighing, he resigned himself to staying and meant to just adjust his position to get more comfortable, but the second he started to move his hand away and lift his body to shift, he felt a heat close around his wrist.
“Diluc?” Even at barely louder than a whisper, his name seemed to echo. Kaeya could see the way Diluc’s body had gone fully rigid once more, as if he hadn’t meant to grab Kaeya’s hand. He didn’t release Kaeya, though, the two of them locked in a standoff.
Diluc was the first to break the silence. “Stay,” he rasped, and a part of Kaeya’s heart cracked open at the roughness there he knew was more than just from a parched dry throat. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“Is that what you want or just the fever talking?”
“Kaeya…”
“Fine, fine.” Kaeya did shift and settle into a better position, waiting until Diluc had once again started to relax before saying, “You know, I was only shifting position, but it is nice to hear you begging for me again.” He laughed at the kick that he did receive this time. “Fine, fine. Nice to hear you still care, then.”
Another beat passed. Then, “I never stopped.” Diluc shuddered once more as another wave of heat racked his body; Kaeya was starting to realize it not only reacted with Diluc’s pyro vision, but also his emotions, that he could focus on suppressing one or the other, but not both. “How could I stop? You lied to me, but you were still my brother, my best friend, my—” he cut himself off, barely pausing before continuing on, “things had to change. I left. You stayed with the Knights.” It wasn’t an accusation, but it held the weight of one to Kaeya’s ears.
“I had to.” Flashes of memory, of his father’s hand on his shoulder, of ‘you are our hope now’, of stories of gods and torn-asunder lands he could never visit. He needed it to be worth it. He’d done this much, come this far. “I need to be with the Knights.”
“Will you tell me why?” Diluc made to shift, maybe to roll over and face Kaeya; Kaeya held his breath, unsure if he was ready to face Diluc like this, but to his relief, Diluc settled again still facing away from him. “I used to trust you with everything.”
There was little Kaeya could say to that; a part of him wanted to confess everything he’d kept back that night, all of his confused loyalties, to trust, to have Diluc on his side once more. But he knew how deeply Diluc loved Mondstadt, how fiercely he believed in his ideals, and how deep the sting of betrayal had pierced him. A small, secret part wanted to tell him just to see that hurt in Diluc’s eyes once more, to show him they were the same at their core, willing to fight through anything for the sake of their goal. Instead, fighting all of those parts down, he stayed quiet. “Why did you invite me tonight?” he asked instead, hoping for a truth Diluc wouldn’t give so he wouldn’t feel so bad about his own. He could feel the way Diluc tensed, unwilling to say the answer and instead stalling for time to find words Kaeya would accept.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“Refuse an invitation from you and miss out on the gossip of the season? Never.” Diluc was silent at that. It took Kaeya a moment, turning around Diluc’s words in his head, then stopped. “Hold on. You meant come up here. Why…” He paused, lifting slightly to hover over Diluc, trying to see his expression better, but Diluc had rolled further away from him, face pressed to the bed with no regard of how much the heat must be suffocating him. “I said before; you could’ve just asked me.”
“Could I?” The words were muffled, Diluc still facing the bedding. “You, the Knights of Favonius Cavalry Captain, would hear and grant a request from an outside agent to potentially undermine a diplomatic relationship.”
It brought Kaeya up short for a second, but only for a second. “Of course. If it was you.” He’d asked for forgiveness over permission before and would do it again; he was only slightly startled to realize he’d do it almost as easily for Diluc as for his own convictions.
It startled Diluc as well, from the way he rolled back to face Kaeya, his eyes, already always so big, gone wide.
“Still?” he asked, as if he wasn’t the one Kaeya knew still carried the scars of betrayal deep in his soul, let them drive him towards justice.
Kaeya stared for a moment, letting the silence hang between them. He was hovering so close to Diluc that the way the heat radiating off his skin twined with the chill Kaeya was creating was impossible to ignore, a constant push and pull that all but hypnotized him.
He was about to pull himself together, aware he’d left the question too long, when he saw Diluc open his mouth again, his eyes darting away as if he couldn’t face Kaeya and speak at the same time. “I wanted to.”
The words seemed to stab through Kaeya, slipping past all his walls and masks, to pierce him right to the core where he was still the last of his family, a boy crying with the knowledge that he’d been welcomed into a new one, the knowledge that all roads led to betrayal one day, but who still clung to that ember of hope he saw in the smile and eyes of the boy who extended a hand to him.
He was aware he was still staring at Diluc; he could see Diluc starting to turn away, to retreat back now that he’d revealed a fatal weakness. Before he could really think about it, Kaeya’s lips were on Diluc’s, his hand on Diluc’s chin, turning him back to face him properly. He knew he was pressing too hard, moving too fast, but he didn’t know how to be any other way when it came to Diluc. For a second, it felt like Diluc had frozen entirely, Kaeya’s ice overtaking him, but the next moment, as Kaeya kissed him deeper, seeking the warmth he’d missed, he could feel waves of heat erupt around him. Diluc responded as best he could as he smoldered, gasping for breath—from Kaeya stealing his breath or from the oppressive heat surrounding them both, Kaeya didn’t really care. All he could focus on was the way Diluc writhed underneath him, fighting but clinging to him and certainly not pushing him away. Their kisses before hadn’t been anything like this, seeking advantage and weakness and darting in to claim victory; it was the same feeling as when they used to spar, and Kaeya reveled in it, in the joy of being on a level field with Diluc once again.
They parted when the air between them grew thin, leeched away by the heat and shared too many times between them. Both of them gasped, rolling to their sides, but instead of the familiar position facing each other, Kaeya once again curled around Diluc, once more leeching the heat from his skin. He shifted slightly, Diluc letting him gather the hair off of his neck and brush it over the shoulder against the bed, leaving Kaeya free to press his face to Diluc’s bare shoulder. “This is more effective, after all.” Safer, too, for the hope rekindling in his chest.
Diluc gave a small sound of assent, then, “Where does that leave us, then? What have we become?” His words were still breathy, dazed almost, and Kaeya felt almost as dizzy with it.
“Does it have to leave us anywhere? Can’t we just be, and see where that takes us?” Kaeya twined his arms a little more firmly around Diluc and gave in to the urge to brush his lips against the skin before him. Diluc all but jumped.
“I would’ve thought you had plenty of people jumping at the chance to share your bed.”
Kaeya laughed into Diluc’s neck, mostly to feel him tense and then relax again. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. “Jealous?”
“Not at all. I just refuse to be embroiled in all of…that is all.” Diluc huffed, but when he pressed, just slightly, back against Kaeya, the heat radiating off of him was dulled, a banked fire instead of a blaze.
This time when he spoke against Diluc’s ear, he pressed a quick kiss to the skin underneath before he withdrew. “It’s only ever been you,” he said, a small offering, a piece of trust; he heard Diluc’s intake of breath and knew he was understood. He knew he couldn’t tell Diluc everything now, and that Diluc couldn’t fully trust him in return, but breath by breath, perhaps they could rekindle something, and perhaps when the time came, it would be enough that everything wouldn’t crumble beneath them once again. Curling his arms around Diluc and feeling Diluc press back in response, feeling the brush of hair as Diluc turned his head, then the soft, tentative feeling of Diluc’s lips against his, he could only hope they could be enough.