Work Text:
If there’s one thing you’ve learned to be true in this field, it’s that getting close to others is a risk rarely worth taking.
You need to trust the people you work with as far as you can throw them. It’s not out of ill will, of course, just the nature of your occupation prevents solid bonds from forming. Yesterday’s friend could be today’s enemy. With that in mind, you did what you could to keep others at arm’s length. It wasn’t a crime to interact with people, you’d tell yourself, yet you were mindful to never cross that invisible line into close camaraderie. It wasn’t like you had the time to sustain intimate relations anyway.
That’s been the creed of your life for as long as you can remember — and yet, here you are. Tending to the wounds of a man who often acted on his own accord without considering the repercussions. If he wasn’t such a valuable connection, you would’ve thought twice in teaming your group up with him. While your initial assessment of him was a rich boy who ran away from his responsibilities, traipsing in the night to get a thrill masqueraded as ‘justice’, you’ve since remedied your evaluation.
He has a decent enough head on his shoulders. If only he didn’t act like he was trying to lose it.
“You’ll need to remove your shirt next,” you instruct, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a first aid kit from a high cabinet. “Hurry now, I don’t want to be gone from my watch post for too long. The last thing we need is an ambush when you’re injured.”
“You’re acting like I’m on death’s door.”
Huffing, you pivot on your heel and give your companion an unimpressed glare, which he returns tenfold. Diluc Ragnvindr. Honestly, just when you were accumulating a modicum of respect for him, he went and pulled that stunt. If you weren’t knees deep in enemy territory, you may have considered a drink to take the edge off.
That was far more of a close call than you would’ve liked.
“You will be if you get an infection,” you reply, to which he holds his tongue. Thank Archons for that. “Well? Should I cut through your shirt with my sword? Or are you going to do as I asked?”
He sheds his overcoat at your behest and gets to work on undoing the rest. Blood had started to seep through the dark fabric of his shirt, the midsection in tatters from the blow he took. A twinge of guilt tugs at your heartstrings as he winces, lifting what’s left of his mangled shirt over his head and discarding it. The gash on his abdominals doesn’t look too threatening. It’s got to hurt though, the attack was elementally infused. You do your best not to stare at the defined lines of his torso. Various scars, from fresh and pink to barely noticeable, decorate his body in a way that tells of many previous battles.
He’s not hard on the eyes, you’ll give him that much.
That’s not what I need to focus on now, you think. He may be dense, but if you continue staring, even that would have its limits. You kneel down in front of him and pull out the equipment necessary for the job.
“I would’ve figured a spy to have more patience.”
At this comment, you laugh, his deadpan delivery never fails to amuse you. Diluc’s dry wit paired with his unrelenting poker face took you by surprise when you first met him. It’s little more than an expectation at this point, the two of you could banter for hours if given the opportunity. If you weren’t hunted down and found, perhaps you’d finally get the chance to do just that.
“I have plenty of patience, mind you,” you hum, gingerly dabbing antiseptic over the afflicted area. “Otherwise, I would’ve strangled you in your sleep by now.”
His fingers dig deep into the armchair, likely as a way of keeping the searing pain at bay. “So you admit to considering it?”
“Once or twice, perhaps. Who’s to say for sure?”
Next is clearing the rest of the dried blood away. Fresh gauze in hand, you wipe around the gash, noting that the bleeding has stopped. That’s odd, you think. You expected him to still be bleeding, hence the urgency in getting him to undress so you could treat his wounds. That’s when you notice the peculiar way in which the gash was covered, the skin slightly raised and red. Did he cauterize his own wound? It’s the only explanation you can think of.
Sensing your confusion, he elaborates, “You learn things like this when you’re used to working alone.”
You frown at that. In the throes of battle, pulling a move like this off is dangerous, had he been slightly off he could’ve seriously injured himself. What makes matters worse is how offhanded he’s acting about it. Now that the adrenaline rush of making a hasty escape is winding down, you’re left with memories of your unsuccessful negotiations. It’ll be a pain to cover everything up. Luckily, the local Liyue press owes you a favor or two — you’ll broker a deal with them later to overlook the three corpses currently rotting away in the Bishui Plains.
Two belonging to the Fatui, and one belonging to your group, which got scattered when things went south. You have faith that the others managed to get away safely. It could’ve been worse, in retrospect. Month’s worth of work went down the drain, yet you’re alive, and that’s all that matters. As long as air fills your lungs you can try again.
You finish wrapping a set of bandages around his torso and stand. “What are you going to do now?”
The both of you were counting on the information exchange from the meetup today. Since it didn’t end well, you’re at a loss on what to do next. Getting a contact in the Fatui with information worth hearing isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence. Diluc must be in a similar predicament as you.
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admits, eyes closing in contemplation. “What about you?”
“I’ll try to reconnect with the others in the morning. After that, well…”
You trail off and he nods. The fight left you both drained, any plans beyond this point are an afterthought. What you need now is to recuperate.
The bandages on his person hold your rapt attention, no matter how hard you try to focus on anything else. Everything comes flashing back to you at once. A taunting glint of steel pointed toward you with the intent to kill. Then the gloved hand on your shoulders pushing you back with the force of a carriage out of control. Next were flashes of soft, scarlet hair, obscuring your view of the unfolding nightmare.
“I suppose I never got to thank you, did I?” You play with the edges of your tunic, grateful that you couldn’t fully see Diluc’s expression in the dark room.
“Don’t mention it,” is his response.
You can tell he doesn’t want to dwell on the subject, yet you have pressing questions on your mind. Why did he get so antagonistic toward your contact? Did he not trust your judgment to handle the situation? In retrospect, the negotiations were tense, as the Fatui whistleblowers requested more than you agreed upon. That was a common tactic in bartering, a way to test how much they can squeeze out of you. You may not sympathize with them, but you can’t blame them either. They were about to leak information and put their lives on the line for doing so.
“I’ll admit, I was expecting more of a lecture from you.” Diluc’s comment breaks you from your stupor.
“You made a call in the moment based on the circumstances,” you cross your arms over your chest, frustration mounting. “I wanted to believe they’d hold their end of the bargain up. You didn’t trust them from the beginning. We won’t ever know who was in the right now that it’s all said and done.”
Silence. In the dilapidated living room of one of Diluc’s many safehouses, the two of you assess each other, searching for some indication as to what the other is thinking behind layers of masks. You hide behind your professionalism and he hides behind his supposed indifference. Now that your eyes have begun to adjust to the minimal lighting, you take note of the various idiosyncrasies he displays. They’re subtle enough that even a most trained individual would overlook them. How his eyes trail after your every movement, not a hint of hostility present, but rather curious and daring. His posture reflects his inherent trust in you too. Should you have decided to strike him down, he wouldn’t be able to react fast enough, as his hands are splayed out on the chair’s side.
Diluc sighs and rests his head atop his clenched fist. “... No, I acted out of line. I thought—”
He cuts himself off, much to your confusion. Diluc’s never had trouble voicing his unfiltered opinions with you before, for better or worse; what’s making him hesitate now? His posture has gone rigid, like the mere thought of telling you the inner workings of his mind would be the highest transgression.
“You thought what?”
The lone candle you lit upon arrival dances shadows across his visage, further highlighting his deep grimace. There’s frustration, then contemplation as well, and an eventual resignation to his fate. He parts his lips, yet makes a point of avoiding eye contact when offering his rebuttal.
“I thought… that I’d lose you.”
That was not what you were expecting. His cheeks are painted with the lightest hues of pink, and he’s focusing on everything else in the room other than you. This heartfelt admission manages to throw you off balance as well. It’s seeping into territory you’ve never traversed, borderline affectionate, like the hushed giggly confessions in those books you read from Inazuma. His embarrassment is contagious, and you find yourself at a genuine loss for words.
In hopes of redirecting into less vulnerable territory, you pat your hip, which is obscured by your overcoat. “If all else failed, I could’ve used this.”
That sours his expression like a wine left to ferment in the blazing summer heat. It wasn’t like you adored your Delusion, so you could understand where he was coming from, but you were right. It provided enough power to get you through in a pinch when necessary. The subsequent debilitating fever that left you bedridden for weeks was a pain, yet he didn’t need to know about that. Though your intuition tells you that he’s already aware of that and more.
“I wish you wouldn’t carry that thing with you,” venom oozes from his tone like a festering wound. “I acted as I did on the off chance you’d decide to use it.”
Unimpressed, you tilt your head. “I’m not made of glass, you know. I wouldn’t have shattered into millions of pieces. It’s not the most reliable method, yes, but it gets the job done.”
“The risk is too great.”
“Every risk warrants danger, or it wouldn’t be called a risk.”
“There are some risks not worth taking,” he argues, his voice slightly raising in volume from its usual monotone timbre. “I will protect you. There’s no need to have—”
“Hold on. Let me stop you there,” you lean forward, pressing a finger to his lips, irritation bubbling up inside of you. “Since when have you been given the mantle of knight in shining armor? I haven’t survived through all that I have just for a boy to belittle my efforts, imposing his unwanted guidelines onto my person.”
Diluc gapes as if you’d just shoved a knife into his chest and twisted it. Then, he scowls, and swats away your hand. Instead of giving you the chance to take it back, he holds your wrist, firm yet not enough to inflict pain. You raise an eyebrow as he shakily takes hold of your hand, his warm breath fanning against your skin. It’s your turn to be taken aback by his behavior. In a move you, a masterful tactician could’ve never predicted, he places a chaste kiss to the racing pulse of your wrist.
“[First].”
His barely audible whisper of your name has you struggling to manage a reply, which comes out more like a squeak than anything.
“Y-yes?”
“You’re right,” he rubs a soothing circle into your skin, his fingers warm as the embers after a fire’s died out. “I don’t need to protect you.”
There’s something hanging in the air that’s left unsaid, that you attempt to put into words. “But you want to.”
Trepidation burns in his irises at your unexpected candor. You did your best to keep your personal feelings from interweaving with your words, wanting to test the waters before submerging yourself into the depths of him. He must have sensed this too, as he tries to search your visage for any hint towards the bigger picture, finding nothing but propriety staring back at him. If he was going to waltz past the invisible line between professional and personal, you needed to test his resolve. Anything less than that would be a disservice to yourself.
He’s an adult, and if he wants to seek your affections, then he must make his stance clear as the Qingce rivers.
“I want to,” Diluc repeats your words back, tasting them on his tongue for the first time. The flavor must not be unpleasant, as he continues, albeit hesitantly, “If you’d allow me.”
“Diluc Ragnvindr, inheritor to the most prolific wine industry in Teyvat, Mondstadt’s most sought-after bachelor, asking for permission to court me? Who would’ve thought I’d live to see the day.”
He juts out his lower lip in something akin to a pout, which draws fondness from you like a never-ending well.
“I jest, I jest. Really, I’m honored. I… I had no idea you felt that way,” you feel breathless. Childlike giddiness embraces your soul, and a part of you wonders if this was a dream. That earlier today, you were knocked unconscious, and what you were experiencing now was nothing more than an illusion of vapor, ready to fade away at the slightest prompting.
Opening and baring your soul to another was frightening, if not thrilling as well. The two emotions clashed in a fierce duel inside you, neither willing to relent for the sake of the other, exchanging blows with perfect precision. You could regret it. Or you could allow yourself this one happiness. Things might end poorly, jeopardizing your mission to take down the Fatui. Or your bond could strengthen tenfold, allowing for a new world of possibilities, maybe even a world where you found comfort in another.
Getting close to others is a risk rarely worth taking, you think. However, you said it yourself earlier. Every risk warrants danger, or it wouldn’t be called a risk.
“I accept, on a single condition.”
“Name it and it's yours.”
You smile at that. He could be a charmer if he so chose. “You will protect me, and I will protect you. That’s my condition. Today has proven to me that we both have our fair share of shortcomings… with a little luck, perhaps we can compensate for each other.”
“You want to protect me?” Diluc questions, as if you proposed an absurd idea. At his hesitation, you roll your eyes good-naturedly, finding his expression when he’s confused too endearing. It doesn’t come from a bad place, you assume. The notion of being in the care of another must be startlingly new to someone like Diluc. From what you’ve gathered, he operated on his lonesome for years, only interacting with others to further his pursuits.
“Is that not what lovers do?” You return his question with one of your own.
“So you’d take me as your lover, on the sole condition you can protect me,” Diluc peppers another kiss to your skin, now on the top of your hand. “Very well. You are a strange woman, [First].”
“Can you really blame me? No one in their right mind would be in this field.”
The husky chuckle you earn from that is more rewarding than any chest overflowing with riches. Waning candlelight illuminates his facial structure — parted lips, high brows, hypnotic eyes — everything coalescing together into a sight of unrivaled beauty. Unable to resist any longer, you settle on his lap, mindful not to disturb his wounds. From the urgency in which he places his hands to your hips, you doubt he’d care even if he was in pain.
His long eyelashes flutter shut, relishing in just how right it feels to have you close.
“You said you weren’t sure of what to do next,” he presses his forehead to yours. “Return to Mondstadt with me. You’ll want for nothing — I’ll take care of everything. Then we can plan our next move together.”
Your heart soars as soon as the word “we” leaves his lips.
“I think that you’re forgetting something. There’s cleanup to be done here, Darknight Hero. I can’t just disappear into the horizon without explanation.”
His grip on you tightens, bringing you into a close embrace. “After that, then.”
“My, aren’t you persistent?”
Diluc grunts at your teasing. His proposition, idealistic as it may sound, isn’t the worst idea. You’re no stranger to laying low in Mondstadt. It’s a nation far removed from the others, without the constant surveillance normal in Inazuma these days. A nice, warm room in Dawn Winery is rather tempting as well. Anything beats camping under nothing but a blanket of stars like you’re used to.
“Mondstadt it is then,” you grin ear to ear at how he livens up, like you’d graced him with the most divine news. “I’ve heard rumors as far as Fontaine about the quality of your Dandelion Wine. Treat me to a glass, will you?”
“I’d give you the entire cellar if that’s what it took to have you by my side.”
“Now that’s what I’d call a questionable business practice. Well, you’re the one who said it, not me. I’ll hold you to it.”
“Ah… I’m sure you will.”