Work Text:
10 tablespoons unsalted butter,
This boy is a menace. When he says one thing, he really means another. When he says, "I'll come over and make something for you," he means, "I'm going to bring the ingredients to bake brownies and you're going to do all the work."
1-¼ cups granulated sugar,
"Diluc, look, I got everything we need from the market!" He beams, setting the heavy bags down on the kitchen counter. How did he carry all of that to the Winery? Probably using wind magic…
¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder,
"Is this because you don't have a kitchen at your place?" Diluc sighs, but begins unloading the bags nonetheless. He's tempted by promise of fresh brownies… And the promise of spending time with Venti, although he wouldn't openly admit that.
"Quite the contrary, I don't have a place," the bard corrects, oddly proud of his evident inability to afford rent. "Oh, here, I also brought this!"
¼ teaspoon fine sea salt,
"You're going to wear this…?" Examining the frilly pink apron adorned with embroidered heart and rose decorations, Diluc raises an eyebrow, looking between it and Venti. It seems absolutely his style, but it also seems way too large for him. Could he…
"I'm not going to wear it, you are!"
That's absurd.
1 teaspoon vanilla extract,
Diluc winds up wearing the apron. Just temporarily. And only because nobody else is around to see, and nobody would believe Venti if he told anyone. The alternative is getting brownie batter on his clothes, and this outfit is expensive.
"Ah, you're such a house husband, Diluc. So pretty in your apron," Venti says with a dreamy note in his voice, resting his chin in his hands and looking at him with adoration.
"I'm going to kick your ass," he grumbles.
"I'm not scared."
Diluc thinks for a moment to come up with a better threat. "I'm not going to let you have any of this brownie."
"Wait, no…"
2 large cold eggs,
How many hands does the recipe assume Diluc has? He's supposed to hold the bowl, mix, and crack eggs into it at the same time. "Venti, can you come here and hold the bowl for a second?"
Venti hops off the chair with a spring in his step and a chipper, "Sure!" He then proceeds to very unhelpfully stand right beside Diluc and nuzzle into his chest as he keeps the bowl steady.
and ½ cup all-purpose flour.
"I can't crack the eggs this way, Venti." Well, he can, but not without elbowing the bard in the face. He doesn't deserve that.
"Tell me to move, then."
Damn it. Diluc waits a minute, letting the silence between them extend just long enough that Venti is able to hear his heartbeat. "…I will in a minute," he mutters. It's a shame his hands are busy stirring; Venti's hair looks very soft and nice to play with…
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Beat together butter, sugar, cocoa powder, and salt.
The batter turns out lovely: smooth and rich-looking, shiny and dark, with a delicious chocolate aroma. It'll assuredly get even better once they bake it. And they managed to avoid spilling flour all over… Mostly.
Diluc turns his back to check the oven for a split second, and when he looks back at the batter, he sees that Venti has stolen a fingerful to taste.
He crosses his arms indignantly. "Venti, there's raw flour and raw eggs in there. You're going to get sick." The combination of fussiness and frilly apron is really making him look like a house husband, but he doesn't notice.
"I'm already sick!" Venti replies, swooning theatrically. "Lovesick! For you, my noble hero, my light in the darkness…"
"I think you might be talking to the brownies," Diluc deadpans.
"Maybe a little bit…"
Stir in vanilla, then add eggs one at a time, mixing until shiny.
"Do you have any idea what we should do while they bake?"
"Get me out of this apron, for one thing." Diluc hastily unties the apron, turning away from Venti's helping hand so as not to feel even more silly than he already does. He balls the article up and throws it into an entirely different room. Venti should consider himself lucky that there was no fire going in the hearth, because setting it alight would be incredibly tempting. "And you should sit on the table there," Diluc adds.
"Huh? Why?"
"Because you're short."
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.
It isn't often that Diluc gets to look up to kiss Venti. But with the bard sitting on the kitchen table, he gets to live that fantasy. Diluc's fingers snake their way into Venti's hair, teasing at the gradient interplay between black and teal. Likewise, Venti's hands cup Diluc's face as he keeps his head at just the right angle, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks.
This, not brownies, had been the real ulterior motive from the very start. Diluc knew it from the moment Venti walked in. But half the fun is seeing what convoluted scheme he'd come up with next to get an excuse to be alone with Diluc. Sure, he could just ask, but they both have a flair for the dramatic.
"Did you keep track of when we put the brownies in?" Diluc asks, pulling away but continuing to stroke Venti's hair.
"Uh… No. I thought you were keeping track…" Venti blushes, tilting his head in a cutely innocent gesture. "Whoops."
"We'll just say we put them in five minutes ago. It should be okay."
"We've been kissing for way longer than five minutes." Venti knits his brow, glancing back down to Diluc's lips. It's clear that he'd like to kiss for even longer still.
"Things always feel slowed-down when I'm with you," Diluc says quietly. Once again, he thanks the stars that nobody but Venti is around to hear that. "I adjusted for that."
Venti nods wordlessly, looking over Diluc's handsome face before trying to steal another kiss. "Hey, you were kidding about not giving me any of the brownie, right?" Diluc keeps silent. "Right?"
Another long pause, then the ghost of a smirk. "Kiss me again and maybe I'll reconsider."