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It’s always on nights when Diluc almost decides not to patrol that he stops a would-be invasion under the side gate of Mondstadt.
He’s handled all the hilichurls already, but two pyro abyss mages have been running– well, flying– circles around him for ages. Diluc has tried to hound them closer to the lake, trick them into extinguishing their shields and drowning. No dice. The mages keep relying on ranged attacks, and Diluc is getting tired, sweat stinging his eyes. The Knights must be sleeping soundly, he thinks bitterly. Indeed, he would rather have the monsters’ attention on him than let them into the city; he’s just not sure how much longer he can keep them busy.
Just as his grip on his greatsword begins to falter, an anemo arrow hits one of the mages. It doesn’t do much besides drawing its attention, but then two figures jump from the city wall and glide close. Diluc recognizes one before he even looks up.
“Surprise baptism!” shouts the other, showering the mages in shimmering hydro.
Ah, of course. Such a line could only come from Deacon Dahlia. Diluc acknowledges his presence with a relieved sigh, but then his eyes instantly drift back to Venti, who has the audacity to wink at him before swirling Dahlia’s hydro. Even though Diluc is wearing a disguise. And sure, one wink doesn’t necessarily prove that the bard knows it’s his recently-made-official boyfriend under that mask and cloak… but this is Venti .
When the two of them bring down one mage’s shield, then the other’s, Diluc sets his weapon alight and swiftly finishes them off. He’s still catching his breath, a thoroughly mixed cocktail of emotions in his veins, when Dahlia smiles and extends a hand towards him.
“Mr Darknight Hero, is it? I don’t believe we’ve met before. I ought to thank Lord Barbatos for the privilege of fighting alongside a living legend,” he says, looking straight at Venti.
Diluc shakes his hand, but remains silent. Dahlia is a regular at Angel’s Share, not to mention a smart man; he would recognize his voice in a heartbeat.
“Why, I’m sure the Lord can arrange for you to meet this brave protector of Mondstadt again!” Venti replies in his stead, cheerful as usual, but with a hint of urgency. “Perhaps in less dire circumstances?”
Dahlia quirks an eyebrow, and for a few moments, he and Venti just stare at each other wordlessly. Finally, the deacon sighs.
“I’ll pray for it. But it is late, and I’ll be overseeing choir practice early in the morning… Goodnight, and may the wind lead.”
With that, he excuses himself. Diluc is pretty sure he can see him dejectedly kicking a pebble before he disappears between buildings. Then, he turns to Venti, and something dangerous swells in his chest.
“I know it’s you, firebird,” the bard says gently. “All the rumors that circle Mondstadt make their way to me eventually. And besides, I know you.”
Diluc takes a deep breath and a step closer. That makes… three and a half people who know, officially.
“I suppose that’s convenient,” he mumbles.
Venti spreads his arms, smiling.
“Isn’t it? No need to thank me, but–”
Before he can get another word out, his back is pressed against the cold stone of the city wall and Diluc’s searing hot lips against his. A small sound of surprise gets caught in Venti’s throat. And then they kiss back, sighing into it, calloused fingers slipping under the hood of Diluc’s cloak to cradle his face.
To be fair, Diluc is even more surprised. No matter how much he may have thought about it, kissing Venti stupid under the moonlight, in public , is an incredibly unwise idea. But with enough adrenaline singing in his veins, he stops caring.
And then Venti undoes the ribbon holding his ponytail in place, and tugs on his hair, and… oh . The whine that comes out of Diluc is going to haunt him later. But he has no time to dwell on it now, because Venti shamelessly takes advantage of his lips parting and slides their tongue into Diluc’s mouth. This is the part where Diluc has no idea what to do, so he tenses up.
“... Too much?” Venti asks apologetically after breaking the kiss. His lips are slick and pupils blown, and Diluc immediately wants to pull him back in. “Sorry, but in my defense, you started it.”
“No, that’s not…” Diluc shakes his head. But now that he’s started thinking properly, the embarrassment catches up to him. “What the hell am I doing?”
“Making out with me?” Venti supplies helpfully. “An unusual but efficient way to blow off steam after a tough battle, and I must admit to enjoying myself. Aren’t you, o Darknight Hero?”
Diluc groans.
“I should make a public statement discouraging people from using that tacky nickname.”
“Forgive me, Master Di–”
Diluc kisses him again. Only to shut him up, he rationalizes, but his body knows better. This time, he doesn’t need to be tricked into opening his mouth; he even tries to match the mystifying movements of Venti’s tongue. And Venti giggles into the kiss.
Time becomes a blur. A small part of Diluc is still alert, looking out for more monsters that might be approaching, but he pays no mind to anything else. Not the fact that his very recognizable red hair is slipping out from under his hood. Nor that Venti is going to be so smug about this later. Or that their leg is currently slotted between Diluc’s thighs… hmm, Diluc does care about that, actually. But only because he knows that if he lets this continue, he’ll end up frustrated in a way that has nothing to do with crime rates or the Knights of Favonius’ incompetence.
“Venti,” he breathes out after pulling away. “We need to talk.”
“Mm, I suppose we do.” The bard’s gaze still lingers on Diluc’s lips. “Where did that come from? Have the grapes of your desire already ripened, ready to be squeezed into–”
“Not that.” Diluc’s ears grow hot. “Not now, at least. I meant your and the deacon’s intervention.”
“It wasn’t due to a lack of trust in your abilities,” Venti assures. “As you know, I try not to get directly involved unless it’s necessary. But when someone as skilled and determined as you gets trapped in a stalemate, it’s only fair to bring more pieces to the gameboard, don’t you think?”
“I could have handled it.”
“Diluc…”
“But it would’ve been much harder without you. And I’m grateful. Not just on my behalf, but the city’s too.” His voice softens. “Thank you for watching over us.”
Venti smiles the kind of smile that reaches their eyes.
“All the hymns that praise Barbatos, the statues, the festivals… And yet I find myself especially pleased by your honest words. Why don’t you say such things more often, hm?”
Diluc rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.
“So you don’t get used to it. By the way, you’re coming with me to the winery.” Seeing the expression on Venti’s face, he clarifies: “To sleep .”
“Aww, no offerings to your Archon to help them dream sweetly?”
“I was going to suggest that you share my bed, but if you find it unsatisfactory–”
“No, no! ‘Tis a most generous offering!” The bard hugs Diluc’s arm, and the two of them start walking. “Combined with the little surprise earlier, you truly spoil me… Kisses of the less chaste kind are fully on the table now, I take it?”
Diluc makes a quiet sound of agreement. His brain is already rewinding to that moment, hung up on phantom sensations of Venti’s lips, hands, all of him. He wants more. But if he lets it show, the teasing will be merciless, so he regretfully reroutes his thoughts.
“I must thank the deacon as well,” he says. “In the morning, you’ll help me pick a wine to his liking.”
“Ah, I see! I was about to ask if you’ll thank him the same way you thanked me.”
Diluc sends Venti an unamused look.
“I don’t have a habit of doing so.”
“Hehe, I know. I’m special!” The bard’s smile widens. “Not that I would mind if it became a habit of yours. Especially directed at me.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Diluc warns, but there’s no bite to it.
It’s nearly dawn when they finally fall asleep, limbs tangled together, Venti contently leeching off his body heat, and Diluc’s dreams are peaceful for once.