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It is late, at the Dawn Winery. The maids have all gone by now, and sleep tugs at Diluc’s eyes but still, he remains awake. Outside, the crickets sing, so loudly and cheerfully that he hardly hears a knock at the front door.
Diluc is not expecting any visitors, ally or not, so he is cautious when approaching the door. With careful hands, he turns the knob and pulls the door open, slowly, then—all at once, for Kaeya is there.
Kaeya, at his winery. Kaeya, dressed in rags. Kaeya, covered in blood and bruises.
Kaeya, with his wings out in full display.
“Master Diluc,” Kaeya says with a poor attempt at a smirk. “A pleasure to see you.”
And he collapses.
Diluc’s clothes are soaked with blood. Kaeya’s blood? Or his foe’s? Kaeya does not answer; the only sound that falls from his lips are tiny groans. It is awkward to carry him with his wings, but Diluc manages to kick the door shut behind himself and makes his way carefully to the winery’s spare bedroom.
There, he lays Kaeya on the bed sheets. His wings are a stark black-blue, like the midnight sky, and Diluc is frozen in a stare—this is the first time he has really, truly seen Kaeya’s wings. The feathers are mussed, they are covered in dirt and blood but underneath it all, they are beautiful.
Horribly so.
Diluc is gone before he allows his thoughts to wander any further, drowning them away in a basin he fills for Kaeya. He grabs bandages, ointment, a needle and thread, and makes his way back into the bedroom.
Kaeya’s clothes are torn and they are cheaply made, nothing that Diluc would expect him to be wearing, not from this peacock of a man. Surely Kaeya will not mind Diluc cutting through his clothes to better see his wounds.
Of them, there are numerous. The water in the basin turns pink as Diluc gently cleans them—thankfully, none are so deep as to require stitches. All he’ll need to do is bandage them.
The worst are the scars that have never healed right, from injuries long ago, ones Diluc was never aware of. The worst is the scar that Diluc finds on Kaeya’s hip—a burn scar. The mark is large and rough and ugly and something crawls in Diluc’s throat.
He finishes patching Kaeya up quickly after that, covering his body with a spare bedsheet. He attempted to clean Kaeya’s wings earlier, but the moment his hands brushed a feather, Kaeya had given a terrible moan; his brow furrowed and a pained expression painted his face.
So, Diluc left it alone. He covers them with the blanket, hiding them and Kaeya’s injuries away. Like this, Kaeya simply looks like he’s sleeping. He looks young. Soft. Frail. A memory surfaces, of glittering blue eyes and a toothy grin. A child Diluc once knew, who died alongside Crepus when they revealed to him their wings.
Diluc does not sleep. The stench of burnt flesh keeps him awake.
He pulls a chair beside Kaeya’s bed, and waits for dawn.
The maids are given a day off. Diluc orders Charles to keep Angel’s Share afloat. His sources tell him none of the knights have asked for Kaeya’s whereabouts. The sheer thought has Diluc nearly setting his kitchen on fire—caused by something other than his usual disgust with the knight’s incompetence.
Kaeya still does not wake. Diluc replaces his bandages and avoids looking at his wings. He manages to sleep once night hits, albeit fitfully.
His dreams are of raucous laughter and childish delight. He dreams of mud-wrestling and swimming in lakes, of late-nights spent under the stars and wine-tasting in cellars.
Diluc opens the door to Kaeya’s bedroom—the spare bedroom, with bandages in hand, and finds Kaeya sitting upright.
Kaeya’s eyes catch his and, reflexively, he hides himself with his wings. Then, he seems to catch himself and, with a wince, Kaeya’s wings shimmer. They glow and in another heartbeat, they’re gone.
“What are you doing?” Diluc asks. He does not move from his spot in the doorway. “You’ll just further irritate your injuries.”
Kaeya’s voice is raspy, is weak. “Your hospitality has proven generous, but I’ve already overstayed my welcome, yes? I’ll be on my leave.”
Diluc strides towards the bed, dumping the bandages on it. He shuts his eyes. Counts: one, two, three.
“Do you really think you’ll be able to make it back to Mondstadt in one piece? You must have hit your head,” he says. “You come to my manor as an absolute mess, leave me here to patch you up, and you think you can leave without an explanation?”
“Oh? And do you intend to keep me here unless I speak?” Kaeya’s eyes flash; his vision glows from its spot on his belt. “My, and here I was under the belief that I was not welcome here.”
“Need I remind you that you were the one who came here in the first place? If you knew that, then why come here? Why not Mondstadt?”
Diluc is standing over Kaeya. From here, peeking out from under the bandages, he can see dark markings crawling across Kaeya’s back. They stretch across his shoulders, to his upper arm.
“To this day, you are the only one who knows of my wings. I intend to keep it that way,” Kaeya says and there is none of his humour or snark underneath his tone. He simply sounds—tired. Diluc does not know how to respond. So, he changes the subject.
“Then stay here,” he says. “Until you heal. You use magic to hide your wings, yes? Save your energy.”
And Kaeya is laughing, a low, deep chuckle. “I must truly look pitiable for you to be extending this offer to me. And here I was, half-expecting you to turn your blade on me the moment you saw my wings again.”
Perhaps he intends it as a joke. Diluc hears an admission, instead. And, again, he does not know how to approach this. How to tell Kaeya that he was no more than a cornered animal lashing out in grief and chose the wrong target. That he was terrified of reaching out, of hurting Kaeya again.
"I will not force you to stay," he simply says. "Choose whatever you want. There should be an extra change of clothes in the dresser for you."
Later, when Diluc is preparing dinner for himself, Kaeya enters the kitchen, dressed in his clothing.
Two letters from Jean arrive, one addressed to Kaeya, one to Diluc. His merely says, " Thank you for taking care of Kaeya."
There is no confusion in her words, no judgement. He didn't even realize Kaeya had told Jean of his predicament.
Evidently, Kaeya's letter was a lot more filling, for he breaks into laughter from his spot on the couch.
"What's so funny?" Diluc asks.
“The Acting Grand Master has gotten much better with her jokes. More importantly, she has informed me that I may take as much time as I need to recover. The knights will survive without me—our Honourary Knight is quite proficient in their duties. Mondstadt is safe in their hands.”
“I see.”
“Of course, Mister Darknight Hero, if you are so distrustful of our knights, you are free to return to Mondstadt. You can trust that I will not destroy the winery while you are gone,” Kaeya says with a smile that screams he will raid the wine cellar the moment Diluc steps away.
“That’s not it,” Diluc says. “I have faith in the Traveler as well. I am just not so keen on leaving you here alone so soon after you were attacked.”
“There is no need for you to worry about me, Master Diluc.” Kaeya’s smile grows wider, a little more wry. “They will not be coming after me.”
Something tells Diluc this is the most he’ll ever get out of Kaeya about his injuries—for now, at least. But, knowing him and his penchant for lying, he could very well have assassins on the way to the winery right now to finish the job.
“In any case, I’ll be here if they do,” Diluc says, knowing full well that Kaeya is more than capable of defending himself, even in his current state.
“A reassuring thought to have with me,” Kaeya replies. “Now, would you trust me to take a walk through the grapevines outdoors, or will you worry too much like an overbearing mother?”
“Shut up.”
There is a leaf in Kaeya’s wing.
They are outdoors, taking a walk through the winery’s greenery, and Kaeya is not hiding his wings. Since the day he woke, and despite Diluc’s insistence that Kaeya is free to show them as he likes within the winery, he has kept them hidden from Diluc’s eyes.
It is no surprise—after all, the sight of them is what spurred Diluc to attack him, all those years ago. It was the nail in the coffin, it was what solidified Kaeya’s confession as truth. A sign that the Kaeya he knew was fake and dead, and the person he grew up alongside was just another cursed child of Khaenri’ah.
Years ago, Diluc would tell himself he never wished Kaeya would have shown him his wings. He wished Kaeya would have continued lying.
Now, Diluc wishes nothing more for Kaeya to leave his wings on full display. Even though it is a bad idea to do so outdoors—Diluc cannot begin to imagine why Kaeya would reveal his wings now, and why outside, of all places—at risk for passerbys to catch sight of his wings. The ones with a leaf in them.
Without thinking, Diluc reaches out to pluck the leaf.
There is an icicle at his neck before he can blink. The leaf, still clutched in his hands, has frozen solid. Kaeya’s expression has turned dangerous, he meets Diluc’s eyes, and a mask passes over him, leaving his face blank.
“You startled me,” Kaeya simply says. The icicle vanishes.
Weakly, Diluc raises the leaf and wags it in Kaeya’s face. “It was caught on your wing. I thought that you might—that I should remove it.”
“How kind of you,” Kaeya says. He has hidden his wings again. “It has gotten rather windy. I suppose we may as well head back indoors.”
He is walking away before Diluc can respond. His entire body is cold.
It takes another two days for Diluc to see Kaeya’s wings again. He is sitting on a couch, his wing curled around his body, and he is picking through the feathers.
“What are you doing?” Diluc asks, and Kaeya nearly jumps.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were purposely sneaking up on me,” Kaeya groans. He throws a loose feather onto the ground and Diluc resists the urge to nag him for it. “I am cleaning my feathers. I would prefer to have been doing it daily but my current state makes it more difficult than I’d like, as much as I’d hate to admit it.”
Kaeya is not one to admit his weaknesses or downfalls. He is a prideful bastard with a silver tongue and Diluc knows he is playing his game. For once, he falls into it willingly.
“Allow me to help. I have experience in falconry, if that means anything.”
“I am not one of your birds,” Kaeya says indignantly, “but fine. Come along, and be careful.”
Diluc takes a seat next to Kaeya, who turns his back to him. His eyes wander from the nape of Kaeya’s neck, to the curve of his back. His wings are made of magic and are able to pass through clothing. Why must he have taken his shirt off for this?
He is impossible. This is going to be impossible. A heavy silence drapes over them as Diluc reaches a hand out, barely brushing a feather with his palm.
Kaeya’s wings are softer than anything Diluc’s felt. He finds himself absentmindedly running one between his fingers before Kaeya clears his throat—at least he sounds more amused than annoyed.
“Tell me if—I’m doing something wrong, or if I’m hurting you,” Diluc says.
There is a pregnant pause before Kaeya answers with, “I will.”
Diluc starts with the feathers closest to the base of his wing. Methodically, carefully, he cleans them of dirt and grime without so much as the occasional twitch from Kaeya. In fact, his entire body is tense, in the same way Kaeya readies for a fight.
This is, perhaps, the closest he’s been to Kaeya since that night.
Where Kaeya is still, Diluc’s hands are shaking. Fidgeting. Kaeya does not trust him, and Diluc cannot blame him. Distracted, Diluc accidentally tugs on a feather far too harshly, and Kaeya jerks away.
“Sorry,” Diluc says, hurriedly.
“It’s unlike you to be so careless,” Kaeya says, and Diluc does not know if he is teasing or not. “I thought you knew what you were doing?”
“I do. I think.”
“Then be more careful, hm?”
Kaeya turns his back to Diluc again. He is still tense, but he allows Diluc to try again.
There are no more incidents or conversations between them. When Diluc is finished, at first, he does not tell Kaeya, leaving his fingers to card through the feathers. He knows that he will have to eventually pull away, and he fears it, fears losing another excuse to be close with Kaeya.
Diluc swallows. His hands drop. “All done.”
Kaeya gives an experimental flap of his wings, stretching them far. “You did a surprisingly thorough job. They look—and feel—wonderful.”
“They do,” Diluc agrees, and Kaeya looks over his shoulder with something like surprise.
The winery is emptier than ever, what with the maids on their so-called vacation and Diluc’s employees ordered to stay away from the upper floors. They hardly have much reason to go inside anyway—the only people there are Kaeya, Diluc, and the ghosts who walk the halls.
(More than once, Diluc has caught Kaeya staring at a portrait of Crepus hanging on the wall. Though he has never confronted him about it, Kaeya is always quieter afterwards).
Diluc is used to constant noise, whether it be from his tavern or his childhood. Though he and Kaeya have taken to eating dinner together, albeit at opposite ends of the dining table, there are no words passed between them.
So different, from when they were children, kicking each other’s legs under the table and stealing food off each other’s plates.
Tonight, Kaeya is picking at his plate.
“They wanted my wings,” Kaeya abruptly breaks the silence. Diluc’s head shoots straight up, but Kaeya is staring into his wine glass. This is the first thing Kaeya has said today.
“It was late, and I had scouted the area beforehand. I had been keeping track of recent treasure hoarder camps and knew there weren’t any nearby. The magic I use to hide my wings is something an amateur can perform, yet it is exhausting nonetheless when used for long periods of time, if only because of the strain it puts on my wings.”
Kaeya is quiet, but Diluc hangs onto every word.
“I thought I could free my wings, if only for a moment. But, as it turns out, I wasn’t alone.”
“Did they—were they targeting you?”
“In a way. They were not aware of my Khaenri’ahn heritage and simply thought I would be an easy target to mug. Once they saw my wings, however, their motives turned towards capturing me. Oh, don’t give me that expression,” Kaeya chides. “I made sure their lips were sealed.”
“Not that I doubt your abilities,” Diluc begins, “but are you positive they are all dead? Where are their bodies?”
“Southeast of Springvale, by the lake. As it is a secluded area, I don’t expect them to be found anytime soon, unless an unlucky hunter stops by.”
Mentally, Diluc files that information away for one of his men to dispose of their bodies. Out-loud, he says, “That was incredibly reckless of you.”
“Rest assured, I will not be making that mistake again,” Kaeya replies dryly.
“I wasn’t finished. I meant—I wanted to say that in the future, if you ever feel the need to let loose your wings, come to the winery. Whether I am here or not. You will always be welcome here.”
Kaeya hums. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer.”
He does not smile or thank Diluc, but his shoulders lose their tension and that, Diluc thinks, is more than enough.
“You kept the vase,” Kaeya says by way of greeting as he enters Diluc’s study the next morning.
Diluc sets down his quill. Spins to face Kaeya, leaning against the wall with a hand on his chin. His wings are visible, for the first time since the night Diluc groomed them.
“I did.”
“May I inquire as to why?”
This is not a conversation Diluc is prepared for. Not this early in the morning, not with Kaeya in his study with sleep-ruffled hair and a shirt far too loose on him.
“Believe me, I wanted to destroy it for the longest time,” Diluc finally admits. “Something always kept me from doing it, though.”
“Ah,” Kaeya says, and that’s that.
They do not speak again until Diluc is in the kitchen preparing dinner. Kaeya waltzes in and, with no prior warning, snatches the knife out of Diluc’s hand that he was using to cut some vegetables.
Diluc raises an eyebrow.
“I am more than capable of cooking a meal and I am, to be frank, tired of bedrest and sitting around doing nothing. More than that, I am tired of eating your cooking.”
“What’s wrong with my cooking?” Diluc bristles.
“Oh, it’s plenty edible. I like it just fine. However, compared to Adelinde’s, it is lacking. I mean no disrespect.”
Damn this man and his ability to rile Diluc up with just a few words. He should be used to it by now but still, he falls for Kaeya’s spell every time.
“Whatever. Let’s see how much better yours is. Just let me help, at least.”
There is a glint in Kaeya’s eyes, one Diluc has not seen in what feels like years. “If you must. You can prepare the meat, then. I trust you know how to cook sticky honey roast?”
“Well enough,” Diluc answers.
It’s strangely domestic, preparing for a dinner alongside Kaeya. This is the first time they’ve ever cooked together and it just feels— right.
Diluc is the one who sets the table. Kaeya brings the food and pours the drinks. Wine for himself and, much to his disdain, grape juice for Diluc.
This time, they are falling easily into conversation over their food. Diluc finds himself smiling more often than not as Kaeya brings up old memories that no longer carry the sting Diluc once felt them with. His eyes do not leave Kaeya’s wings, and how they flutter when he laughs, or how they flick in agitation when Diluc teases him.
It is like he is meeting Kaeya all over again—no, not quite. This was who Kaeya always was. Diluc just had never been able to see it.
While Diluc cleans up, Kaeya nurses a bottle of wine, slouched over on the couch. He is halfway through before Diluc snatches it away.
“So cruel,” Kaeya says as Diluc smoothly avoids his reaching hands. “I am lucky to be leaving tomorrow, back to where I can drink without having a certain someone breathing down my neck.”
“You say that as if you do not frequent my Angel’s Share,” Diluc says. Then, the rest of Kaeya’s words catch onto him. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”
He sounds pathetic. This day was coming soon. Kaeya’s strength is all but back to normal, and he cannot stay cooped up in the winery forever. For the time that he was here, it felt like time had stopped. Diluc’s world had shrunk down to just himself and Kaeya in the manor and now, he has grown too comfortable with it to part ways.
“Alas, I cannot keep Mondstadt waiting forever. I am well enough to go back to my regular duties, and bored enough to find myself not dreading the paperwork that awaits me.”
The wine bottle Diluc stole from Kaeya (or rather, that he took back after Kaeya stole it from his cellars) is looking rather tantalizing right now.
“In any case, I do not want to return to the city with filthy wings, visible or not.”
“You’re well enough to groom them on your own,” Diluc points out, and perhaps he is being petty.
“I am, but it’s easier to make you do it.”
Diluc gives a performative hmph but even as he’s doing it, he’s already got a hand weaving through the feathers on Kaeya’s wing. Kaeya sighs, and leans into Diluc’s touch.
“I meant it,” Diluc says. “What I said before. About coming to the winery. You know that, right?”
“I do,” Kaeya says.
Diluc returns to Mondstadt with Kaeya. The knights guarding the gates give them a strange look but Diluc merely ignores them. Kaeya, on the other hand, is more than happy to entertain their greetings, acting as though walking side-by-side with Diluc is the most natural thing in the world.
It’s strange, to separate from Kaeya, after having spent so much time with him. Diluc finds himself counting the hours down until Angel’s Share opens for the night. Then, until Kaeya finally shows up, Diluc’s heart skipping a beat.
“It’s on the house,” Diluc says as he slides a glass of Death after Noon to Kaeya, who takes it graciously.
It is late, when Diluc hears the tell-tale sound of a key turning a lock. He shuts the book he was reading, and looks up as the front door to his winery swings open.
“Hey,” Diluc says.
“Hey,” Kaeya replies, and he steps inside.