Work Text:
1.
When he was younger, Diluc thought that having a job was fun. After all, watching the maids work and sometimes offering to help them out – although they rarely accepted his offers, which, rude – was entertaining enough. Accompanying his father to work only served to cement his belief that work was fun and those who complained about their jobs just didn’t know how to do it right.
As Diluc grew up, a lot of shit went down, like his father dying and that’s not even mentioning the whole mess that his relationship with Kaeya is –
The glass he’d been polishing cracks. Diluc blinks, then scans the room with a quick eye, but nobody seems to have noticed. Conversations continue merrily, only interrupted by the occassional drunken shout of manliness. He exhales, satisfied with the results of his inspection, then chucks the glass on the floor. Hopefully he’ll remember to clean it up before he checks out.
He picks up another glass, this one alightly dirtier than the other. He frowns at the lipstick stains all over the rim, then picks up his rag. Back to scrubbing it is.
Ahem.
The point is –
As Diluc grew up, lots of things happened, things that contributed to him experiencing several epiphanies, such as: drowning your sorrows in alcohol isn’t a coping mechanism, no matter how many of his patrons insist otherwise; running around with a weird homemade mask and ending up being called the Darknight Hero by a horde of fans is, on the other hand, a coping mechanism. While all of these realizations have been englightening, Diluc has to admit, at least to himself, that the most important thing he’s come to acknowledge is –
Working sucks.
Being an adult sucks.
Sometimes, after a particularly grueling day, he contemplates going to graveyard and begging his father’s ghost to take over for him. Of course, that doesm’t work. Diluc knows. He’s tried it several times, especially after Venti showed up at the tavern –
The door slams open. If the building weren’t as sturdy as it is, Diluc’s pretty sure the wall would’ve wobbled, like his grip on the glass in his hand right now.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Diluc thinks mildly as Venti saunters over to the bar, plopping his ass on a barstool. A barstool that creaks ominously, because of course Venti has to choose the most rickety thing in the room. The drunkard would probably enjoy it if he cracked his head open in Diluc’s tavern, because it would be up to Diluc to deal with it.
"Master Diluuuc,” he slurs, leaning forward on his elbows with a wide grin that shows all of his teeth.
Diluc resists the urge to scrunch up his nose. “You reek,” he says simply.
Venti waves a hand into the air, his eyes widening like he’s captivated by his own actions. Diluc’s eyebrow twitches, which must get Venti’s attention, as he says “A barrel fell on me.” Then he pauses, his brows furrowing. “Or maybe I fell in it. Don’t remember.”
“Did it happen to be one of the barrels in the storeroom?” The locked storeroom, mind you.
Venti shrugs. “Maybe.”
Diluc isn’t stupid enough to believe that Venti’s response actually translates to a no. He’s been his bartender for too long to fall for that.
Diluc takes a deep breath, feeling his chest visibly expand with the force of it, and reminds himself that beating Venti up isn’t an option, especially not in public, where he could get arrested. Not that he couldn’t simply break out of the Knights of Favonius’ cells, it’s actually very easy to do so. He just doesn’t feel like dealing with Kaeya, who’ll certainly come running if he hears that Diluc got in a fistfight with a twig of a man.
“Master Diluuuuc,” aforementioned twig whines. A thin finger pokes Diluc in the stomach. “Master Diluuuuuuuc.”
All that sense of calm Diluc managed to instill in his mind is gone. He grits his teeth. “What.”
Venti slams his hands against the tabletop, a wide grin stretched across his face. “More wine,” he pauses to hiccup, “This is a – a tavern, yeah?”
Diluc doesn’t even feel like dignifying that with an answer, but he has to, lest the drunkard gets louder. “I hope you know I am not going to be the one to carry you out of here once you pass out,” he says instead.
Venti doesn’t acknowledge him, looking perfectly content rest his arms on the tabletop and his head on his arms.
Diluc sighs, but complies with his beloved regular customer’s demand. He gets one of their cheapest bottles – fuck knows Venti is barely able to pay on a good day, after all – and pours alcohol into a glass, then slides it in front of the idiot.
“You’re the best, Master Diluuuuuc,” Venti says, spreading his arms like he’s expecting a hug. Diluc very pointedly steps away, cradling a dirty glass in his arms as he pretends to look for his rag.
That is really not the compliment you think it is, Diluc doesn’t say. He just hums.
A part of him dares to hope that this is the end of it, that Venti will just drink himself into a slumber, but his rational mind knows better than that. Venti’s always been a talkative drunk – why should today be any exception?
Soon enough he’s proven right too, as Venti hugs his pint – where did that even come from? – close to his chest and leans forward.
Oh no, Diluc thinks, he’s going to say words.
“Hey, hey. Master Diluc. Hey. Master Diluuuuuc.”
Don’t crack the glass, Diluc reminds himself. Out loud he says, “Hn.”
Venti pushes the pint away, stretching his arms as he does. “You know, this – this wine, yeah?” He waits till Diluc nods to continue, “This wine – ‘s really good. Like, uh, I can tell you put a lot of eff – effort into it. Yeah?”
Diluc has no idea where this is going, but his instincts, honed by years of training to be a Knight of Favonius and by his recent vigilante escapades, tell him it’s going nowhere beneficial for his sanity.
“And like, it’s great, yeah? Don’t – don’t get me wrong.”
The wine is not great. Diluc knows that. There is a reason that bottle was the cheapest they had in stock. He’s pretty sure Venti’s taste buds have atrophied a long time ago though. After all, Barbatos isn’t getting any younger. Soon enough, Diluc will probably have to help him find his walking stick.
The thought entertains him briefly, but of course it’s not enough to drown out Venti’s constant stream of chatter.
“ – So, as I was saying, this wine’s good, yeah? But if my little sweetie pie, if, if Xiao were here, I’d be drinking his cu –“
The glass he’d been scrubbing cracks in Diluc’s hands. He watches the shards fall to the floor in a daze.
“Eh? Master Diluc?” Venti pokes him in the arm. “Were you listening to me? Hey, hey, do you think you could mix a drink that tastes like Xiao’s –“
Out of a self-preservation instinct, Diluc slams his fist onto the tabletop. “Enough,” he grits out.
Venti looks at him with wide innocent eyes that wouldn’t look out of place on a cherubim. “But I just wanna know if it’s possi –“
“Out,” Diluc cuts in.
“But I –“
“Out.”
2.
Mr. Bard is sad.
It’s not very obvious, because Mr. Bard always has a smile on his face, but Klee can tell! It’s very easy to tell – his smile’s so wide and his fingers never falter on the lyre as he plays a pretty song for the crowd, but his eyes are sad. She’s not sure how everyone else hasn’t noticed –
What if they are the ones who made Mr. Bard sad?!
Klee gasps, then covers her mouth. Her eyes widen, then dart around to check if anyone’s noticed, but the sound seems to have been covered by Mr. Bard’s cheerful ballad.
Good, good! That’s very good, she thinks.
She moves further away from the crowd that surrounds the fountain, taking her backpack off and plopping it on the ground as one of her hands worms its way in to check the contents. Klee grins; dodoco is still there, and so are the mini-dodocos she made earlier this morning.
Awesome!
Now, all she has to do is wait for Mr. Bard to finish singing, find out who made him sad and blast them like she did with those fishies
Klee giggles to herself.
Jean mustn’t find out about that!
She settles on a nearby bench, her backpack in her lap as she drums her fingers on the bench to the rhythm of the song. It’s a lively song, this one. Klee really likes it, but she likes most of what Mr. Bard plays.
As it turns out, she doesn’t have to wait long – Klee has a feeling the performance was meant to end soon, anyway. Mr. Bard had been playing for a while when she saw him after managing to sneak out of solitary confinement. He’s wiping sweat from his brow when he notices her, but she doesn’t miss the disheartened look that briefly flickers over his face, nor does she miss the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Klee is per – percep –
She’s good at noticing little things, ‘kay?! After all, little things go into making a dodoco.
“Hey, Klee. I didn’t quite notice you there – did you have fun?”
Klee nods so rapidly that it almost makes her head feel all woozy. “I always do – you sing very pretty!”
“Prettily,” he corrects. His smile seems to get wider, more real, as he sits down next to her, but it’s not an auth – authen – real smile. A true smile. “Although I don’t know if that’s really the word I’d use to describe a song.”
Klee shakes her head, momentarily distracted. “You’re pretty, so the song is pretty,” she says insistently.
As expected, Mr. Bard smiles. “That’s really sweet of you to say,” He tilts his head with a laugh, “Or are you just saying that so I’ll buy you candy?”
“Albedo gives me enough candy,” she says, then pouts as she realizes what exactly it is that Mr. Bard is trying to do; namely, distract her. Klee shakes her head, brows furrowing. “You’re sad,” she blurts out, slamming her fists onto her backpack for emphasis. It wiggles threateningly, almost falling off her lap, but she secures it before turning her gaze onto Mr. Bard again.
“A-ah,” he says, smile slipping, his eyes wide. However, that doesn’t last long, for his awkward expression is quickly covered by a seemingly curious one. “What do you mean –“
“You’re sad,” Klee tells him again. “I know you are. But,” she wiggles a finger into the air, “You don’t have to be. Tell me who made you sad and I’ll blast ‘em.” She pats the backpack for emphasis and tries to adopt the same expression as Jean when she’s reassuring someone.
Mr. Bard opens his mouth to reply –
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Klee says.
He shuts his mouth.
“Try again,” Klee tells him, getting up to plant her hands on her hips and level him with her most serious stare.
Mr. Bard drums his fingers on the bench, then sighs. When he meets her eyes, there is a smile on his face, small and sad, but real. “I guess you’ve caught me,” he chuckles humorlessly. “It’s not – you don’t need to blast anyone.”
Klee’s pouting intensifies.
Mr. Bard raises both hands up in the universal sign for surrender. “Please don’t blast anyone.”
She huffs, crosses her arms. “Fine. Then why are you sad? Did you get put in solitary confinement too?”
“Well,” He scratches the side of his head, “I suppose you could say that.” Mr. Bard hums, kicking his legs back and forth, careful not to swing to the side and kick her. “I have this person I lo -“ he pauses. “A person that’s very dear to me. He’s really, really, really dear to me, you know? He can come across as standoffish – um, distant, that is. Not easy to talk to, for strangers. I think you’d like him, though.” He takes a deep breath. “Point is, I haven’t seen him in a while and he’s been busy lately.” Mr. Bard sighs. His face looks strangely pink as he adds, “I miss him.”
Klee…
Klee thinks she gets it. She too misses Albedo when he spends too much time on the mountain and forgets to hang with her!
She knows how to fix this!
Made mind up, she grabs Mr. Bard’s hand and leans backwards with all of her weight, huffing and puffing till he gets up to prevent her from falling on her butt.
“Whoa, careful there –“
Undeterred, she shifts to grip his sleeve and holds on for dear life as she begins marching towards the city gate.
“Klee –“
“We’re going to make a flower crown,” she throws over her shoulder, “So you have something to give your person when you see him again!”
Flower crowns always make her happy, even when she’s really, really sad. She hopes it works on Mr. Bard too.
Speaking of him, he hasn’t replied, so she stops, turning to fully face him –
Mr. Bard is smiling. It reaches his eyes and it doesn’t falter, not at all, not even when he says, “Alright, Klee. Let’s go make flower crowns.”
3.
“Alright,” Venti is saying. Lumine can’t quite see him, but she imagines his hands are on his hips because, quite frankly, the pose would fit him. “That new patch of cecilias I saw should just up ahead –“
Lumine grits her teeth, very carefully angling her foot so that she steps on that tiny ledge she spies from the corner of her eye. “Aha,” she grits out.
A pause, then: “Eh? Traveler? Where are you? Did you get lost? Traveleeeeer –“
Lumine throws herself to the side, lands on the tiny ledge that nearly gives out underneath her, then quickly lunges upwards, manages to dig her fingers into the rock and hold on for dear life as the lower part of her body dangles. “I’m,” she manages, slightly out of breath, “right where you left me.”
A shadow falls over her, presumably Venti leaning down, over the cliff’s edge, to look at her. She raises her head to meet his seemingly concerned gaze. “I thought you were better at climbing than this. All that running around in the Archipelago should’ve helped with your stamina.”
Lumine frowns. Part of her is aware that this is ridiculous, that she should be focusing on getting herself up there by Venti’s side, to safety, instead of simply hanging onto a rock and arguing with him, but it’s Venti. He’s always brought out the immature side of her. “You try climbing up Starsnatch Cliff,” she retorts.
Venti blinks wide, innocent eyes at her. “But I did.”
“With your hands,” she amends. “No elemental powers.”
“Ah,” Venti says slowly, then his lips spread into a smile. “I don’t do that. It’s uncool.”
Lumine stares. That is a very untrustworthy expression. “How the fuck do you know that word.”
The fucker has the gall to wink. “Ehe!”
Yeah, no, she thinks, I’m too sober for this.
She even says so, to which Venti frowns and replies, “Ah, I didn’t bring my flask with me today.”
Lumine blinks. “I’m not going to address that,” she tells him.
Venti nods. “Fair enough. Not even Master Diluc wants to address that – last time I went to his tavern, he kicked me out,” he pouts, crossing his arms. “Imagine doing that to your innocent paying customer.”
Lumine opens her mouth, then closes it, internally debating the benefits of pointing out that she’s never seen him pay in her life, but she’s certainly seen his ever-growing tab that, she’s pretty sure, is as long as the list of Mona’s debts.
She inhales deeply, ready to cuss him out just for the sake of it, then stops as the rock begins to wobble underneath her hands.
Ah.
Yeah.
She’d forgotten about that.
Her feet are still dangling. Her entire body is still dangling. She should probably do something about that, like continuing to climb with her own to hands, just so she can lord it over Venti’s head, but the truth is –
The truth is that Lumine has been doing a fuckton of climbing and swimming and digging herself out of sand dunes lately. She’s tired. “Help me up?” she asks.
Venti blinks, then tilts his head to the side with an easygoing smile. “Sure. You should’ve said something from the beginning, you know? This would’ve gone much faster that way.”
Lumine doesn’t get a chance to reply, as an unnaturally strong gust of wind lifts her up. She finds herself letting go of the tiny ledge she’d been holding onto and exhaling loudly through her nose as she watches it crumble.
“I think I can whip out my gli –“ she starts, but Venti hums and gestures backwards with his thumb. Just like that, Lumine is sent flying towards the surface of the cliff and she doesn’t even have the time to brace herself before she falls onto a bunch of flaming flowers.
Footsteps muffled by the grass approach her, then Venti’s shadow falls over her once again. He’s short, so it’s not a particularly long shadow. “You okay there?” he asks, bending at the waist as if he wants to poke her but is hesitating to do so.
“Ow,” she says through a mouthful of leaves. She’s not actually hurt – these days it takes a literal giant robot stepping on her to inflict any sort of damage, but Venti isn’t the only one allowed to dramatize.
Venti’s brow furrows. “My bad, my bad,” he says as he helps Lumine up, then joins her in putting out the mini fire on the hem of her dress. “I must’ve gotten used lifting Xiao that I forgot not everyone has his plunging abilities.”
Lumine raises an eyebrow as she continues patting at her dress. “Xiao, huh?” she wiggles her eyebrows. “You two go climbing a lot?”
Venti grins. It looks so wide that it looks borderline painful. “You know all those trips to Liyue that I take?” he whispers, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “They’re not all for dates.”
She blinks, momentarily distracted from putting out fires. “Then what the fuck are you doing?” she blinks, a metaphorical lightbulb going off in her mind. “Are you – mooching off Zhongli or something?”
Venti waves a hand in the air. “No, no, no!” he pauses, then amends, “Well, only sometimes. The point is,” he pokes her in the shoulder, “I go there to scout high places out. The taller, the better.”
Lumine has a bad feeling about this. A very, very bad feeling about this. However, she didn’t fight two Gods to be scared off by Venti and so she perseveres, despite the lump in her throat. “Why,” she asks.
Venti’s grin widens, impossibly so. “Have you ever seen Xiao climb?” He leans in even closer, till his head’s nearly on her shoulder. “Have you heard him climb? Those noises are divine, I’m telling you. You’d think he was doing someone, I mean, something else –“
Lumine pushes him into the flaming flowers with flaming cheeks and a furrowed brow.
4.
Everything is perfect, Barbara thinks as she lets herself fall backwards onto one of the pews. The church floors have been moped not once, not twice, but thrice, which took up most of her afternoon, but all the frustration washed away the moment she saw her reflection in the marble tiles. Of course, it goes without saying that she washed the windows too, then spent the better part of two hours scrubbing the pews till they sparkled just as much as the rest of the church. She’d have mopped the front steps as well, but she decided to leave that to Rosaria as punishment for coming in hangover. Surely she’ll find them as clean as the day they were carved out.
Surely.
Barbara sighs, allowing the tension to seep out of her bones as she sprawls out. If she focuses a bit, she can hear birds singing. Really, everything is perfect –
“Mind if I sit here?”
Barbara wants to cry, but she doesn’t do that. She opens her eyes, manages to plaster a smile onto her face. “Of course,” she begins, but stops because that is –
That is –
“You’re the one who broke the Holy Lyre del Himmel!”
The bard puts his hands up into the universal sign for surrender. “You know,” he says, looking as sheepish as Rosaria after a pub crawl, which is to say that he doesn’t look sheepish at all. “I wasn’t the only one who broke it. There were more people involved –“
“I don’t want to hear it,” Barbara huffs, straightening up. “What you did was – was blasphemous!”
He scratches the back of his head, taking a seat next to her as he does. “Eeeeh, I don’t think Barbatos minds as much as you do.”
Barbara resists the urge to gasp or, Barbatos forbid, cuss at the man in front of her. She can’t remember the last time she was this angry.
Actually, never mind, she can; it was on the day that stalker of hers accidentally defaced Lord Barbatos’ statue, in an attempt to impress her. She was so angry that she ended up arresting the man herself, bringing him to the Knights’ Headquarters with the help of one bewildered Rosaria. Thinking about the incident calms Barbara, even brings a smile to her face. Just like that, she is ready to help this bard, this misguided soul, return to the right path – the path of Barbatos Worship!
“What brings you here today?” she asks him serenely, channeling every bit of tranquility in her soul. Just like Lord Barbatos would!
“W-woah, that’s a fast change of mood,” the bard mutters. Barbara doesn’t reply, even if the remark irks her. She has a feeling it was not meant for her ears and well, if Lord Barbatos is merciful, so is she. Louder, the man says, “I’m just here to look around. Haven’t seen the inside of the church in a while.”
His curiosity is piqued, then. Perhaps it was the result of Barbara’s cleaning spree – a sparkly church – that drew him in, but his curiosity is piqued, which is important. The line has been cast and the fish has started to swim closer. By the end of this talk, if everything goes according to plan, Barbatos will have a new devout follower.
It’s perfect! Truly, everything is perfect!
Careful not to let any of her glee show, she lays a palm on one of his hands, as sisterly and reliable as can be. “What is it that ails you today, visitor? You look troubled.”
Despite the man’s furrowed brow, he doesn’t take long to reply, albeit hesitantly. “I was just – thinking.”
Barbara’s smile doesn’t falter. “About?”
“An – an anniversary gift! Me and my – partner, that is, my partner – we’ve been together for a while and I wanted to get him something. A little spoiling never hurt anyone, yes?” The man nods to himself, almost as if answering his own question.
An anniversary gift, huh? The church cannot help with that. They’re not a gift shop, after all. Barbara isn’t one to give up quickly, though, nor is she unobservant. The existence of an anniversary implies that this lost soul and his partner have been together for a significant amount of time. Which means –
Perhaps there is something that the church, that Barbara can offer, something to tempt this lost soul back onto the right path.
She squeezes the hand that’s underneath hers and leans in closer, careful to keep her voice light and cheery. “An anniversary gift, huh? Why, I have a marvelous idea.”
“Sure,” the bard says easily, his braids shifting as he nods at her. “I could use some help.”
She feels the smile on her face growing impossibly wider. “Oh, I have just the most splendid of ideas!”
The bard leans closer to her, as if he’s eager to hear her words. “Do tell, do tell!”
Is it just me or is he trying not to smile? Barbara thinks, but her smile doesn’t falter, doesn’t dim. Perhaps he’s simply been touched by the light of Lord Barbatos – yes, that must be it.
“Have you thought,” she begins slowly, “About joining together in a –“
“Oh,” He waves a hand into the air, “We’ve already fucked. Several times. Although,” he pauses to rub at his chin as Barbara’s mouth hangs open, smile all but forgotten, “We could try fucking on a church pew.”
Holy union, she’d been meaning to say.
Lord Barbatos does not look down on such relationships, she’d been meaning to say.
And neither do I, she’d wanted to add.
“Oh,” escapes her mouth, but the man doesn’t seem to hear.
“I think the positioning will be a little weird, but nothing Xiao can’t handle – besides, we haven’t had lap sex in a while,” he’s saying, gazing at the bench with a look in his eyes so calculating that she’d think he was contemplating the truth of this world, or something.
It takes a few seconds for Barbara to register those words, let alone process them, but the moment she does, her face fills with a flush as fierce as the indignation, the anger that’s burning inside of her.
“You – you!”
“Me,” he replies, his tone as clueless and innocent as a newborn’s. His eyes are wide, akin to a child caught with a hand down the cookie jar. If she were anyone else, perhaps she’d be fooled, but Barbara has plenty of experience in dealing with hooligans!
“You,” she sputters, so indignant that she finds herself springing to her feet. “How dare you! How dare you speak so – so vulgarly in Lord Barbatos’ presence?”
“Um,” he raises a hand to scratch at his neck. “Whoops?”
Barbara blinks.
She gathers all the air she can stuff into her lungs, then bellows, “YOU’RE – YOU’RE A SINNER IN THE EYES OF BARBATOS!”
“Ehe!”
4.5
“Hey, hey, traveler, do you think Xiao and I should get married?”
“…”
“What did you say? Marriage and children! My, my, you’re quite bold, aren’t you?”
“…”
“I’m not even sure how that would work, since we’re both men. Hm, should I just lay an egg? Do you think that’s a solution? Should I go all draconic?”
“Wait,” Paimon pipes up, “Children are made? I thought they just appeared if you wished really hard.”
Lumine’s shoulders start shaking. Venti’s not sure if she’s laughing or crying.
“Hey, hey,” Paimon floats in front of her. “How are children made? Do you know?”
Aaah, never mind, she’s definitely crying, he thinks.
5.
Amber loves being an outrider. Really, she does. Sure, the workload is heavy and the hours are atrocious, but it’s all for the good of Mondstadt. Besides, if she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d just quit. As it is, she finds her job very enjoyable – fulfilling, even, especially when she had the opportunity to make someone smile, to help a child find their lost pet, to protect the city gates from a bunch of stray hilichurls.
However, there is a part about her job that she loves more than she expected to – namely, the night shifts. She didn’t expect to like them as much of her day work, but she was pleasantly surprised by just how quiet everything is, by how beautiful the sky is when most people are indoors, when most lights are out. It makes feel alone, but not in a bad way. It’s a strange feeling – even stranger to describe, really – but she likes it.
Of course, that’s not to say that all night shifts are like that. There’s the occasional rowdy drunk that the city guards cannot handle, or that one gang of drunken teens trying to paint vulgar symbols on the walls of random buildings – the usual, really.
Amber is walking down a narrow street, rounding the corner, almost reaching the center of the city – she can see it too, can see the fountain in the distance – when she hears it. Namely, the frustrated voice of one of the city guards.
Looks like tonight won’t be one of the quiet nights, she thinks with a sigh.
She changes direction, walks till she sees her fellow night-shift-sufferer, a young man whose guard uniform hangs loosely off his body, accompanied by someone who is holding onto the wall for dear life. Her eyes widen as she realizes who exactly the drunken person next to him is and she finds herself saying, “Ah, don’t worry, I’ll take it from here.”
The poor guard exhales, relief obvious on every feature of his face. “Thank you, Outrider. I don’t usually have problems on patrol, but –“
She waves a hand into the air. “No worries there! I’m sure you’re great at your job. It’s just that Venti’s a handful, especially when he’s drunk.”
The guard’s brow furrows. “Do you require assistance?”
Amber snorts, sliding her arm around Venti’s side to help keep him upright. He leans into her with no hesitation, squishing his cheek into her shoulder. “Nah, it’s fine,” she tells the guard, who gives her a flustered salute before rushing off, presumably to finish his patrol.
With only the crickets and the random bright light emanating from a window to keep them company, Amber begins the trudge to Venti’s place – also known as the local inn, but he’s been renting the same room for so long that it’s considered his anyway.
“Xiao?” Venti asks at one point, the words so slurred she barely understands them.
Amber shakes her head. “Wrong person, buddy,” she pats him on the shoulder for good measure, an easy feat to accomplish, considering she’s the only thing stopping him from falling face first onto the pavement.
He lifts his head with what looks like great effort and squints at her for a few long seconds. “Oh,” he says eventually. “That’s a – that’s a pity ‘cause, like, I miss Xiao.”
Amber has no idea who Xiao is, but she’d be a fool to miss the longing in Venti’s voice. Looks like somebody’s got a crush, she thinks, but doesn’t say. “I’m sure he misses you too.”
“I just saw him,” Venti whines. “But I miss him so much –“ he pauses, gasping so loudly that for a moment, Amber startles, then continues, “I miss his abs. Did you know he has – he has abs. They’re so good to, good to lick. Tasty.” At her bewildered look, he adds, “Like a sweet madame.”
“I don’t know if your – your Xiao would appreciate being compared to a food,” she tells him as they climb up the stairs.
“He would,” Venti protests loudly. Very loudly. She winces, but he pays her no mind. “He’s my little sweet madame – I told him that once, you know? He got really embarra – emba –“
“Embarrassed,” Amber fills in for him, her lips quirking into a smile. Venti and Xiao sound adorable. She never thought she’d see the day when Mondstadt’s resident bard and bachelor got a partner.
“Yeah, yeah,” Venti nods, so strongly that it shakes both of them. “He was so red – his face, yeah? He has a really pretty face. You should see him when he’s con – concen – doing that thing with his eyes, squinty. Head full, mind going vroom vroom.”
Amber cannot stop herself from chuckling. Venti doesn’t seem to notice – or if he does, he’s not bothered.
Lifting his head once again, he looks her in the eyes with a huge grin. “My favorite face, my favorite face of his is when I slide down his di –“
“Alright,” Amber blurts out, loud enough to startle a few birds that were sleeping on someone’s windowsill. She’s heard more than she ever wanted to hear, just from that one sentence. “Let’s get you to bed, grandpa.”
“It’s not fair,” Venti whines, weakly and ineffectively shoving at her with his palm. “I wanna talk about Xiao.”
Amber sighs. Venti is really lucky that she’s used to his antics by now. “You can talk about Xiao when we get to the inn.”
“Ughhhh.”
+1.
It’s not easy to find Xiao, mostly because he can vanish without a trace and reappear whenever he wishes to do and not a moment later. It’s not at all because Lumine is bad at searching for things. There is a reason she avoids lost-and-found commissions, but it’s not that. She just – doesn’t like them.
Yeah.
That’s it.
Lumine shakes her head, as if that would get rid of the vertigo that comes with using a waypoint. She leans forward, catching a glimpse of the fall that waits her if she were to slip –
Lumine gulps, wrenching herself back to hug the waypoint with an arm. Even with a glider, heights have never been her greatest friends. Some people would consider it a phobia, but Lumine is above that. She totally didn’t want to cry the first time she had to glide. Nope. She has no idea where that rumor came from. None at all.
“Are you okay?” Paimon asks, floating next to her with concern painted all over her face.
Lumije very wisely does not look down again. “Yup.”
Paimon frowns. “Are you sure? We could head back, you know.”
Lumine shakes her head. “Verr Goldet’s counting on me to find Xiao and make sure he hasn’t died of starvation in a fit of angst. I’d rather not let her down.”
Paimon opens her mouth to reply, then her frown deepens. “Can adepti even starve?”
It’s a good question, but the thought of finding out still makes Lumine uneasy. “I don’t want to know.” She shakes her head. “Anyway. Mind scouting the area for me? Look for him from above and all that.”
Paimon nods, the rest of her body bouncing in time with her head. “Sure! There are a lot of peaks in Huaguang Stone Forest though, so it’ll take me some time.”
“That’s fine, Paimon. It’s not like I’m going to just sit on my ass. I’ll look for him too. Just from here. It’s cozy here.”
Paimon tilts her head to the side. “Won’t the possibility of slipping and falling to your death from such a great height bother you?”
A bead of sweat trails down the side of Lumine’s face. “What the fuck,” she tells Paimon.
“I was not aware you could swear,” comes from behind her and she startles, turning around and settling into a fighting stance.
Xiao’s face greets her. He looks fine, unharmed. She’s pretty sure he’s more than fine, considering that one bite mark she can see on his neck. All the tension seeps out of her body and she sighs. Still, she has something to check before engaging in any normal conversation. “You’re not like, starving to death, are you?”
Xiao’s brow furrows ever so slightly, which, translated from Xiaoese to Emotionally Competent People, means he’s befuddled. “No,” he says after a few seconds.
Lumine huffs, resting her hands on her hips. “Good. Verr Goldet thought you were starving yourself to death or something.”
Xiao’s face does something that might look like nothing to a stranger, but tells Lumine that he’s mildly offended. “No,” he says again, then slowly, as if the words are in some foreign language that he’s still trying to master, “I am fine.”
“Yeah,” she runs a hand across her face before looking pointedly at the hickey on his neck. “I can see that.”
Xiao doesn’t flush, but he does avert his gaze.
“Wait,” Paimon blurts before any of them can try to say anything. “Wait, how did you find us? Were you just – hiding behind that waypoint the entire time?!”
Great reasoning there, Paimon, Lumine thinks.
Xiao, who had been just looking at Paimon in that blank way of his that makes you think he’s cursing your entire bloodline, says, very slowly, “You called my name.”
Lumine blinks. She hadn’t known that all it took was for her to pronounce his name – she thought that she needed to be actively calling for him for it to work. “Does that mean you show up every time I say your name in conversation?”
Xiao tilts his head at her. “No, although I do become aware of you, wherever you might be.”
“OOOOOH,” Paimon says. Lumine resists the urge to wince and cover her ears, something she often finds herself wishing to do ever since meeting Paimon.
“Is that all?” he asks them.
The question surprises Lumine. Xiao is not an impatient person by any means – for him to be eager to leave, for him to show hints of that eagerness? He must’ve been in the middle of something really important when she called. She has a feeling she knows what the important thing is too, considering the messy state that his hair’s in and the hickey.
“Having fun, huh?” she teases, but doesn’t even let him try to take it the wrong way before adding, “I’m glad. You need some of that in your life.”
“Hn.”
Xiao very pointedly does not meet her gaze. She’s pretty sure the tips of his ears are red and maybe, just maybe, Lumine has more of a mean streak than she’s willing to admit, because the sight fills her with glee. She presses on, lips twitching. “Were you on a date?”
Surprisingly, Xiao looks up. “Yes. At a restaurant in Liyue.”
Lumine smiles. “Xiangling’s, right? I’ve eaten there before – I really like it.”
He nods, then unprompted, goes on. “I find the food to be enjoyable.”
She smirks. “The company too?”
Xiao flushes a bit at that and Lumine could weep – he’s so pretty. Good thing Venti snatched him up when he did, ‘cause otherwise she might have stepped in.
“Venti is – he’s very good company. I like all of the things we do and the new things he shows me. It’s,” he pauses, but Lumine can hear it anyway: it’s good.
Xiao’s nose wrinkles in displeasure at not being able to find his words, then he tries again. “I find the mortal activities he persuades me into trying to be enjoyable.” At Lumine’s encouraging hum, he adds, hesitantly, “I’m happy. With him.”
The smile that spreads on Lumine’s face is as genuine as can be, and so is the relief, the happiness blooming in her chest. She’s always tried to get Xiao to try living – although that’s putting it dramatically – for something more than just his mostly self-imposed duties. She wasn’t very successful, nor was Ushi, but she’s glad someone was – she’s glad Venti was.
“You two make a cute pair,” she tells him.
The smile she gets in return would not be a smile on anyone else, but on Xiao it’s practically a grin.