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Lambad’s tavern is bustling with energy on any given night. People calling for more drinks and food, the smell of meat cooking on a spit heavy in the air, and servers rushing back and forth between tables. Tonight is no different.
Sethos is crowded against the wall, Hat Guy , or Wanderer as people have taken to calling him recently, pressed up against his side. Wanderer’s thigh is warm against his own, just on the edge of too hot in the stifling air of the tavern. Cyno and Tighnari sit across from them on a bench of their own, not so close that they’re pressed hip to hip but their hands still brush every so often. Sitting on a chair at the end of the table is Collei, nodding along when someone talks.
“Sethos,” Cyno calls, “care for a round of genius invocation?”
“Ah,” Sethos cringes. “I think I’ll pass tonight.”
He can see Collei trying to stifle a laugh as she makes eye contact with Tighnari. Cyno may be his brother but there’s only so many rounds of TCG he can sit through before his brain feels like it will melt through his ears.
Wanderer hums beside him, hiding a smirk behind his hand. “I thought you told me you loved TCG when you forced me to play with you the other night.”
Absolute betrayal. Sethos nudges Wanderer’s foot with his own, pout pulling at his lips. Wanderer sticks out his tongue, eyes alight with mischief.
“Cyno, I’ll play a few round with you later at home,” says Collei.
“You were always my favourite.” Cyno nods, barely flinching even when Tighnari pinches his side.
Tighnari huffs, ears flicking. “Look.” He nods towards the bar. The owner of the tavern exits from behind the bar and walks over to their table.
“The regular?” Lambad asks, a pad of paper tucked into his pocket and pen tucked behind his ear. “We also have a special going on right now. A couple of the staff members came up with having what they call ‘Lambad tries Teyvat’ where we offer a dish from each nation for the week.”
Collei lights up, leaning forward in her seat. “Could I ask what dishes you have?”
“We’ve got sticky honey roast from Mondstadt, masutake meat rolls from Liyue but we’re running low on that one, onigiri from Inazuma, fish and chips from Fontaine and fried shrimp bean balls from Natlan,” says Lambad.
Sethos can’t help but steal a glance at Wanderer. Trying to gauge how he feels. As much as Sethos loves being able to sit with the family he’s gathered, he also isn’t above making a scene in case they need to leave.
“Sticky honey roast…” Collei mutters, hand playing with the ends of her hair. “I think I’d like one of those instead.”
“A sticky honey roast for the little lady then. Anything else?”
Cyno raises his hand. “I’ll get the onigiri. I’ve heard about them from those light novels Collei reads sometimes.”
“Cyno,” Collei whines, hiding her face in her hands.
“I think that’ll be all,” Tighnari speaks up, resting a hand on Collei’s head. “Thanks Lambad.”
Wanderer’s thigh is tense pressed against Sethos. He’s curled inwards, eyes hidden by his hair. Sethos knows why. It wasn’t hard to put little clues together — all the small details Wanderer off-handedly mentions. He’s selfish enough to want to ask for even more.
But he won’t.
Instead he scooches even closer to Wanderer, hand settling in the crease of Wanderer’s arm. He intertwines cold fingers with his own. His thumb strokes the soft skin of the back of Wanderer’s hand.
Sethos keeps their hands under the table, hidden in Wanderer’s lap. It might not be much but he can at least do this. Give some kind of unwavering support, quiet but sure. If only he could do more. But this is enough for now.
“You know, Sethos,” Tighnari says, sharp teeth glistening as he smiles. “If I didn’t know any better I would say that you’re trying to sit on Hat Guy’s lap.”
Sethos doesn’t waver even as he’s caught under those sharp eyes. “Well, that seat isn’t taken now, is it?”
Collei giggles. Her eyes flick between Tighnari and Sethos.
“I didn’t know our very own Hat Guy has another job as a chair.”
Wanderer scoffs, rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t let go of Sethos’ hand.
“I don’t have any job. It’s sort of implied in the name ‘Wanderer.’”
Leaning back in his seat, Cyno shakes his head. “‘No job’ he says, like I don’t see him talking to our Archon almost every day.”
“I wouldn’t call that a job. More like a stubborn thorn in my side.”
And yet Sethos can’t count the amount of times Wanderer will tell him what he and their Archon have done that day, listing endless tales of their time together. He’s still not quite sure what their relationship is but at the very least he knows they’re important to each other. And that’s all Sethos really needs to know.
—
Sethos squeezes Wanderer’s hand in his, head resting on Wanderer’s shoulder. Between the warmth of the tavern and then warmth brewing in his chest he feels like he could drift off to sleep. Comfortable with these people around him and the one he loves held close.
Sethos nudges Wanderer, the back of his hand brushing against Wanderer’s chilled fingers. Even with the wind sweeping over him, the cool night air tossing his hair around his face, Sethos still feels warm.
That warmth builds more and more in his chest with every glance, every moment he shares with Wanderer.
“You know,” Sethos starts, glancing at Wanderer. “The onigiri from the tavern was pretty good.”
It’s a careful walk – like he’s barely balancing on a tight rope that’s taught over a large drop. Toeing between his desire to know more about Wanderer, the need to covet all the little hints and pieces shared with him and hide them deep in his heart, versus his understanding of Wanderer’s hesitance.
Sometimes his greed gets the best of him.
Wanderer clicks his tongue, tugging his hat over his eyes. “It was a fine attempt for an amateur. They should have used proper sushi rice.”
Sethos pinches the ribbon trailing from Wanderer’s hat between his fingers, rubbing over the smooth silk.
“I didn’t know there’s a specific kind of rice for sushi in Inazuma.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know,” Wanderer says, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Sethos wants to kiss him. To close the space lingering between them. Kiss him until his breath is gone and his lips tingle.
Instead, he laughs. “Ah, ah, I happen to know enough to keep me going. But it really is a shame. I want to try more Inazuman food.”
Wanderer rolls his eyes but Sethos still can’t wipe the smile from his face. Because Wanderer’s pinky links with his own – gentle but firm in the ever-changing city.
—
“Thank you so much, dear.” The old lady pats the back of Sethos’ hand, tucking a hard candy wrapped in parchment paper into the palm of his hand.
“It was no problem Granny. Let me know if there’s anything else you needed delivered!” Sethos waves, turning around to get lost in the bustling crowd walking around Sumeru city.
The sweltering heat is beating down. The sun high in the sky and there’s not a single cloud to be seen. The city is more forgiving then the desert is but even still he can feel cool drips of sweat gathering on his forehead.
Yet these are always his favourite days. Where he’s far away from any official duties or worries. Just him and the path ahead of him. And if he’s lucky a certain hat wearing floating guy might show up too.
Granny Fariha was his last stop for the day. He could go back to his home in Sumeru city or even find Cyno to see what he’s been doing lately. But if he’s being honest, the only one he wants to see right now is Wanderer.
“Looks like the busy little bee is done working for today.”
And there he is.
“This little bee might have just found the perfect flower to hover around.” Sethos calls back, chest fluttering.
He can see the way Wanderer’s eyes soften, ever so slightly. Wanderer’s arms uncross as his feet find solid ground in front of Sethos.
Like a petal drifting in the wind, Wanderer turns around and begins to walk away. “Well,” he pauses, “are you coming or not?”
And who is Sethos to argue.
They walk a familiar path together, hands brushing and clothes rustling in the space between them. Sethos tries not to think about grabbing Wanderer’s hand. Tries not to think about leading him away — about the two of them pressed close in only a place they know.
He thinks about it anyways.
Wanderer pushes the door open to his small home. He lives in a tiny house crammed between others. There’s one bedroom off of a single room that holds the kitchen and living area. Sethos would call it very quaint. Wanderer says it’s his personal jail.
Different warm, sweet scents hover in the room. The smell of meat cooking, of different foods being tossed together to make something new. It smells good, enough that Sethos can feel his stomach groaning in protest. He shakes his head.
Sethos stops to take off his shoes, shoving them to the side with his foot. Shakes the loose sand off his clothes even if he knows sand will be trekked through the house anyways.
“Go sit down.” Wanderer nods towards the rickety chair perched in front of the table. The table is crowded with different dishes, so full Sethos is scared of bumping into the table.
“Looks like you were the busy one.” Sethos can’t help but comment.
Wanderer clicks his tongue.
“Unless you didn’t make all this food.”
Rolling his eyes, Wanderer hands Sethos a small plate. “These are all Inazuman dishes. If you don’t eat them, I will.”
“I’ll eat them!’ Sethos huffs, knocking his shoulder into Wanderer’s.
Wanderer loosens the grip he has on his plate, shoulders slowly relaxing. He points at the dish in front of Sethos. “This dish is the one I eat them most often. It’s called shimi chazuke which is green tea poured over rice. I add an umeboshi on top but it’s sour.”
Sethos hums, nodding as he takes everything in.
“Next is grilled unagi or eel.” Wanderer glances at Sethos from the corner of he eyes, letting out a slow breath. “It eaten all year but especially during the summer. It’s thought to help you make it through the summer heat.”
Again, Sethos nods.
“These are regular tricolour dango. It’s very sweet and chewy.” Wanderer’s nose is scrunched. Sethos wants to bite his nose. “There’s a mid autumn festival which is also a moon viewing festival. Dango is placed out as an offering in hope of having good health and a good harvest.”
Wanderer points at the final dish. “And this last one is soba noodles. You can have them cold but this one is in a light broth. On New Years Eve it’s tradition to eat soba. You cut the noodles before eating them to cut away misfortune for the next year.”
“It all looks delicious.”
And yet Sethos can’t help but study Wanderer’s every move, every expression. He wants to burn this moment into his mind. To carry this knowledge, this privilege of knowing Wanderer with him everywhere.
Sethos captures Wanderer’s face in his hand. A look, a breath, a moment. And maybe Sethos isn’t thinking as clearly as he should be, but none of that matters. The careful press of his lips against Wanderer’s is brief, just a whisper of a touch, and it’s still perfect. He pulls back, resting his head against Wanderer’s.
“Thank you,” Sethos whispers, words perfectly crafted just for the two of them to share.