Chapter Text
Venti has been behaving oddly as of late.
Well, Venti doesn’t seem to have a very good understanding of what acting strictly ordinary is, but Diluc swears it's not that this time.
It’s hard to pin down anything about this spritely little bard, his will and way of living as buoyant and flighty as the wind he used not to govern. But if Diluc had to hazard a guess, he’d say the odd behaviour started when he officially began allowing Venti to spend his nights at the Winery. More specifically: to spend them in Diluc’s room.
Next to him, in bed.
A rare moment of weakness and beguilement, soaked steadily in good spirits and better wine that had now caught fire and begun to spread. It was not something he would readily agree to sober, and if anything was just another testament to how much he despised alcohol, but there it was.
To put it plainly… he had accidentally asked the mousey little bard to move in with him.
A little part of him hoped that Venti would brush the whole thing off as an empty promise made in wine, but no such luck. The boy had followed Diluc home that night-- embarrassingly much more sober than Diluc himself-- and had continued to come home every night since.
Kicking him out completely seemed a bit harsh even for Diluc’s standards (and it wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy Venti’s company; Diluc would hardly be courting him if he didn’t)-- not to mention Diluc was indeed the one who proposed the idea, as Venti loved to remind him. But he also wasn’t about to get into the habit of freely renting out his home to the nearest Archon-turned-live-in-bard. So, he had put Venti to work around the house.
And the very odd thing is this: Venti is good at it.
Diluc had figured helping around the Winery instead of day drinking and songwriting would go a long way to improving the bard’s languid lifestyle, but he never could have predicted this. One early morning, before leaving for the day, he had simply yet sternly told Venti: “If you’re going to stay here, you need to at least start pulling your weight. I want you to help Moco and Hillie with their chores today. Since you obviously have the free time to spare.”
The boy had characteristically griped and protested, still half asleep more than half naked in bed. But Diluc’s word was firm, and he expected a performance review from Hillie once he returned home. And receive one he did.
“How was he? Not too much trouble, I hope?” Diluc had cautiously asked when he hung up his coat that night.
“On the contrary, sir! He finished almost every task before me or Moco!”
The look on his face must have been quite a sight, because the poor girl had to go and wake up the other maid to vouch for her.
“Hillie seemed very impressed by your work ethic today,” Diluc remarked as he undressed for bed. “I shouldn’t have reason to believe you bribed anyone into doing your work for you, should I?
Venti scoffed dramatically, as if such a suggestion was unheard of. It was, in fact, very heard of, and he knew as much. “Shocking to see how little faith you have in me, Master Diluc! Everything was one hundred percent done by yours truly.”
“Forgive me if I don’t exactly believe you,” He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked his boots off. “I didn’t even have to sweeten the pot with the standard bushel of apples or bottle of wine. You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”
“Well then, I’ll just have to prove it. Assign me any task you deem fit and I will see it done without fail.”
And like that it had continued.
“Elzer is going into town today to meet with some benefactors of the guild. Go along and help him carry his scrolls instead of moulding the foyer couch to your shape, will you?”
“You aren’t busy, are you? Good. Go and see if Adelinde needs any assistance in the kitchen. And wear an apron, I’m not making her scrub wine stains out of your shirt again.”
That last suggestion had been the most recent. It’s late when Diluc finally returns to the Winery that night. The last few stragglers have successfully been ushered out of Angel’s Share, and his patrol-slash-walk home completed without too much incident. He’s all but forgotten about what he told Venti that morning, drowned out in the business of the day. Diluc opens the door and finds the atelier empty of maids, the few candles that Adelinde must have left on before retreating to her quarters for the night are nearly burnt out.
At the dining table, fast asleep, is Venti. Diluc barely sees him in the dim candlelight. His head rests gently on his arms, a dinner for two prepared and, by this hour, gone cold. The slight twinge of guilt he feels quickly dies as his rational thought kicks in. He didn’t ask Venti to go and make him dinner, only for him to assist Adelinde if needed. He certainly didn’t ask him to stay awake until past midnight waiting up for him. He nudges Venti awake and the boy nearly falls out of his chair.
“Hm? Diluc?” he blinks, the loss of balance rendering him startled. “What time is it? Did I fall asleep?” the words slur together drowsily.
“Don’t force yourself to wait up for me when you’re obviously tired,” Diluc says without preamble. “Take a bath and get to sleep. I’ll clean up here.”
Even half-asleep, Venti manages to pout. “Well, now who doesn’t know the value of hard work?”
“Excuse me?”
He stands suddenly, grabbing Diluc’s arm, though his grogginess nearly makes him lose his balance. “Miss Adelinde and I worked hard to prepare this. You’re not seriously going to let that go to waste!” Venti shakes his head sternly and guides Diluc to sit down at the table. Caught off guard by this sudden show of protest, Diluc allows it-- despite how ridiculous he feels. The stew in front of him is swiftly snatched away as Venti retreats to the stove in the kitchen.
Exhausted, Diluc scrubs at his face. It’s true Venti had a talent for getting on his nerves before, but he can’t exactly decide if he prefers this new Venti, either. Largely speaking, it isn’t a particularly negative trait to have, it’s just that… Diluc isn’t sure what it is. He doesn’t know why the sound of Venti in his kitchen warming up his dinner makes his emotions all a mess. Diluc hardly even remembers to eat dinner most of the time. And he hasn’t exactly had someone to come home to in a while.
The stew, when Venti finally returns with it, is piping hot and delicious. Diluc hadn’t paid much attention to the chill in the outside air, but now he’s thankful he has something to chase it away. He’s only aware of Venti staring at him when he’s a good three bites in.
“Go on, sing my praises,” said the boy with a wave of his hand.
Diluc shut his eyes, not rising to the taunt. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m sure the only thing you did was gather ingredients while Adelinde did all the actual preparation.”
“For shame! I see you still don’t have faith in me,” Venti huffed. “I’ll have you know that I cubed the meat and braised it myself. I even added a bit of mint to the spätzle when Miss Adelinde was making it.”
“So that’s what’s different,” Diluc hums as he takes another bite. He had noticed a slight change in taste, but hadn’t attributed it to Venti’s direct involvement. To show his approval would be to let Venti’s ego win, so he doesn’t. “Adelinde’s version is the one I grew up with. She told me the key is to flash fry the onions right before plating.” It really is quite good, even if he and Kaeya ate it countless times when they were small. Every spoonful carries a bittersweet memory.
“I think my version is better,” Venti boasts, his usual arrogant self.
“It’s not bad.” Diluc grants him.
“‘ Not bad’?”
They finish their meal in simple conversation about their days. Topics so mundane are typically something Diluc makes a habit of avoiding, but as he listens to Venti speak he finds himself oddly calmed. Before he knows it, he’s eaten two entire servings. He tilts the bowl to his lips to get the last sips of broth.
Venti giggles at the sight. “Good, right? Aren’t you glad you have someone like me to remind you of the wonders a full stomach can do?”
Diluc, feeling warm from the meal and worn out from the workday, kisses Venti’s forehead in thanks when he takes both of their bowls to the sink.
The maids are beginning to talk. As much as maids do, at least. Which, granted, does seem to be quite a bit. Nothing outright, of course, but hushed rumors here and there.
They talk of how the bard Master Diluc picked up seems to be oddly skilled at a good many things. When Hillie tears her dress after it snags on a trellis in the grape fields, he overhears her griping about how much it’ll cost to fix and offers to stitch it back up for her. She watches him do so, sat on a bench in the shade, and listens as he claims to have learned from a tailor in Liyue a few years ago.
“You must have learned pretty young then,” Hillie marvels. She doesn’t think much of the giggle that escapes Venti in response as he continues to sew.
The meat for meals is typically purchased from the hunter’s guild near Springvale. Adelinde makes the trip a few times a week to see what they have in stock that day, and Venti has taken to keeping the maid company as she prepares meals. The strange little bard is more knowledgeable about cooking than she originally thought, and she can’t say she doesn’t appreciate the opportunity to speak to someone other than the other maids.
“I was planning a roast to thank the girls for all their hard work recently, but they were entirely out of fowl when I went this morning,” Adelinde sighs as she stirs the goulash she’s got on the hearth.
Venti frowns. “The guild is known for overpricing their products anyway, and for such subpar quality.”
“Even if that is the case, It isn’t as if I have many other options. It’s just the most convenient if I want to start dinner on time.”
A calculating look passes over the bard’s features as he sips his wine, kicking his feet lazily on the kitchen stool. Suddenly, he places the glass down after draining it, and tells Adelinde he’ll be back within the hour. She hardly has time to ask what’s gotten into him before he’s grabbed his bow and is out the back door.
When he does return, it’s with not a small amount of fresh game thrown over his shoulder. Ducks and peasants-- he’s even managed to snag a crane. The supper is the talk of the maids in their little dining room that night, saying that they aren’t sure where this little bard came from, but they certainly hope Master Diluc keeps him around.
“And how are you on this fine autumn evening?” Kaeya’s chipper voice rings out over the chatter of the crowd as he takes his usual seat at Diluc’s bar. Angel’s Share is bustling; an impromptu closure of the Cat’s Tail for the night has sent everyone with a plan of getting drunk this evening through Diluc’s doors. This demographic, unfortunately, includes Kaeya, and the one-sided drinking buddy he’s made the quiet nun that sits next to him.
“What’re you having.” Diluc deadpans.
“I’m doing well myself, thank you so kindly for asking,” Kaeya continues, undeterred. “How is the missus?”
Diluc stops. The wine he’s pouring nearly spills onto the counter. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, the little bard you keep as a pet nowadays. He tells me so much about you when we share drinks.”
Diluc’s eyes narrow to a sharp point. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he refutes, and it comes out sounding calmer than he feels.
Kaeya pouts. “I know we haven’t been on the best of terms these past few years, but to think you wouldn’t even send me an invitation to your wedding! Or, are you trying to keep it on the down-low, with how young he is?”
“I have other customers waiting, so if you would please get out of my sight.” Diluc cuts him off before he can say anything else, pushing the drinks towards them hastily and sloshing some onto the counter. He grabs a towel and focuses very hard on cleaning it up, hoping no one can see the way his face has colored. To Kaeya’s credit, he and Rosaria slink off to a far corner of the pub and keep to themselves the rest of the night. Diluc can only pray the curt conversation was lost in the noise of the crowd.
As hard as he tries to forget the entire exchange, it forces itself into his mind on his walk back to the Winery. Even his usual vigilante activities don’t require enough thinking to properly distract him. And it’s infuriating, because for how stupid the phrasing of it was, he can’t confidently say Kaeya was particularly off the mark.
Somewhere between falling into a relationship with him and moving in with him, Diluc’s feelings about Venti had shifted. He had willingly gone from a rowdy nuisance to performing better than some of the staff Diluc actually paid. ‘Impressed’ and ‘proud of Venti turning his behavior around’ was one way of putting it.
‘Made all of Diluc’s rational thought go straight to his cock’ was another.
He couldn’t even scold him as he used to, because Venti wasn’t doing anything at all negative. This was an overall positive turn of events! It didn’t make it make any more sense, though. He resolved the best course of action was to simply stop beating around the bush and ask the other outright.
“Venti,” Diluc says that night as he closes the door to their bedroom. “Why are you so good at these things?”
The bard doesn’t look up from tuning his lyre by the window seat. “You’ll have to be more specific. Singing, songwriting, gliding?” Each word is accentuated with a pluck of string. Diluc has half a mind to be annoyed.
“Homemaking.”
This gets Venti’s attention. “Oh! Yes, that. I’m not sure!”
“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Diluc lets his exasperation show only slightly as he unbuttons his shirt and folds it over a chair.
“I mean that I’m not sure. Why are you asking?” Venti sounds disinterested as ever as he strums a short tune. Diluc exhales, forcing himself to not get heated and risk the conversation breaching something he isn’t ready to examine just yet. When he doesn’t answer, Venti frowns and continues with “Is it a bad thing? I thought you wanted me to stop lazing around so much.” The put-out tone of his voice is enough to engender the slightest sympathy in Diluc, and he sighs.
The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of it. “No, It isn’t bad. It’s just-- you haven’t done this before have you?”
The question was obviously not the one Venti was expecting, and he stops strumming. The lyre lands on a flat note that buzzes through the quiet room. “What? Settled down with someone?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes,” Diluc replies, small. He sits himself on the bed and pulls his hair out of its low ponytail, before he begins to weave it into the braid he usually sleeps in, for want of something to do with his hands.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Master Diluc?” Venti grins, and Diluc knows he’s trying to get a rise out of him, so he doesn’t grace him with the reaction. Even though his fingers fumble a bit in their process.
Venti places the lyre to the side and goes to join the other on the bed. “Kidding, kidding, you’re so serious... though if it’s a direct answer you’re looking for… I’m afraid I don’t exactly have one. I’ve just been around long enough to pick up certain things.”
“It just... seems uncharacteristic of you, is all.”
“That’s assuming you know all there is to know about little old me. Even I don’t know all there is to know about me!” With a signature flippancy, Venti flopped backwards onto the mattress. He doesn’t meet Diluc’s eyes when he speaks, instead staring at the ceiling with something resembling self reflection.
“With my gnosis gone, I’m less of a god than ever. I’m still coming to terms with it,” Venti fiddled with his braids as he spoke. “Might as well take up some other hobbies in the meantime, no? It’s sort of fun to try new things. I was pleasantly surprised myself.”
“You weren’t much of a god in the first place, were you?” Diluc snorts, trying to steer the conversation back to more familiar waters.
“I resent that.”
He sighs, continuing. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the feeling of being sedentary right now. The life of the Anemo Archon is a vagrant and abiding one, never truly putting down roots. It’s nice to just exist in one place for once,” he finally meets Diluc’s gaze, eyes creasing at the bottom in a slight smile, and adds “with you.”
“I…” Diluc has to look away. “I see.”
Venti snorts, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back. “Is that all you have to say about it? Or have I rendered you speechless?”
Venti’s view of the ceiling is suddenly obstructed by a blur of red hair as Diluc’s hands bracket either side of his head. The expression on Venti’s face changes like a cold breeze has washed over him. Gone is the teasing look of before, replaced by wide eyes and a hasty promise of obedience. Diluc simply stares down at the smaller boy, drinking in the shift in energy.
“You talk too much.” Diluc states.
“You asked.” Venti refutes.
“I know.”
A hand cards through Venti’s hair and the bard’s eyelids flutter shut against his cheek, tilting his head to meet Diluc’s palm. It’s not unlike a kitten, easily placated by a tender touch.
“Come on, the little bard you keep as a pet nowadays. He tells me so much about you when we share drinks.”
The connection makes Diluc’s heart falter just for a second, and he pulls his hand away, face hot. There's a shift in pressure, both on the mattress and in the air. When Venti blinks his eyes open at the loss of contact, Diluc is sat on the edge of the bed and decidedly looking away from him.
Venti rolls over in bed, hugging blankets as he goes and half-burying his face in a pillow so when he asks “Master Diluc?”, the words are slightly muffled.
“I’m going to soak in the bath,” Diluc announces, clearing his throat. He’s out of the room before Venti can cheekily invite himself to join him. Venti’s eyes linger on the door as it closes, waiting to see if it’ll open again. When it doesn’t, he rolls fully over onto his stomach.
With his eyes squeezed shut, he brings his own small hand to the place on his forehead that Diluc had so gently touched, but to his dismay, the feeling is hardly replicated.
Diluc finds himself feeling thankful for the late hour as he makes his way down the hall to the bath. The maids have long since retired to their own quarters by this time of night, which means he and Venti are likely the only people awake in the Winery.
He really should be more comforted by that fact than he is.
The feelings currently parading through his mind are not ones he’s keen to dissect. It’s precisely the reason he makes the bathwater hotter than usual when he draws it. All Diluc wishes is to soak in the heat until his mind goes utterly blank, but as he undresses and finds himself half-hard, that ideal quickly dissipates with the steam.
The hot water does at least remedy the ache in his muscles as he sinks into it, but like some young lad still grappling with his hormones, the relaxation only serves to worsen the aching between his legs.
Try as he might, Venti’s visage is glued to the inside of his eyelids. It’s the picture of him asleep at the dinner table, hair tousled and breath steady as he waited up for Diluc. It’s the way he stands next to Adelinde in the kitchen, the apron somehow fitting perfectly over his small frame. It is the way he finds himself distracted at work or on patrol or any second he’s not with him during the day, and how right it feels to see him when he opens the door to the Winery at night.
“Welcome home! I’ve missed you, heheh. Don’t make me wait so long next time, okay?”
When Diluc’s hand eventually makes its way under the steaming water to grip his cock, he maintains his last shred of modesty by telling himself that it’ll only worsen if he pretends otherwise.
He doesn’t exactly make a habit of taking care of himself this way. It’s even less common that he fantasizes about something when he does so. But the images of Venti that Diluc’s mind conjures up are hazy and soft, much like the boy himself, and he can’t help but succumb to their hold on him. Here, hidden in the steam of the bathroom, Diluc allows himself to imagine Venti not as the Archon he once was, but as the docile little thing he has since become.
Venti, so sweet and pliant, waiting for Diluc to come home. Perhaps he’s helped around the house and is just starting dinner. Diluc would enter the foyer and wrap his arms around him, press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head, into his dark hair that smells like the soap they both use. Venti would giggle as he does, a sound that quickly turns into something much more wanting as large hands drag under his apron to his thighs. He’d make little sounds of feigned protest, something about getting caught, but would be unable to say much more as Diluc begins to palm between his legs at the same time his own hips press their way into Venti’s ass. It’s sloppy, hurried-- a product of a long day spent away from one another that Diluc is quick to remedy with something so tactless it could be called borderline animalistic.
“You have been the only thing on my mind since I left you this morning,” Diluc would growl into Venti’s soft neck, the frills of his apron brushing up against his cheek.
“L-likewise,” would come Venti’s reply, only serving to increase the speed of Diluc’s thrusts, the rushed strokes of his hand on Venti’s cock. “Make me yours, I can’t wait anymore--”
So Diluc would.
Guiltily, he comes in his own palm with a strangled sound. Every muscle in his body seems to buzz as he strokes himself through the high, and only realizes he’s been whimpering Venti’s name when the cotton that fills his head subsides. Perhaps he is actually glad the staff is asleep. He doesn’t want to entertain the idea that they aren’t.
In the shame-ridden aftermath, he sinks deep underneath the water, and spends the next moments willing away any thought that dares make itself known. If he could stay beneath the water and simply fade away, he would. At least then he wouldn’t feel so reprehensible when he eventually slides into bed next to Venti, already asleep, and can’t help but selfishly wrap his arms around him.
Maybe in another life the Ragnvindrs had upset a god or two, because Diluc has never been able to sleep past five in the morning.
It’s a small shame, because Venti is professional at the art of heavy sleeping, and sleeping long. Diluc has never known him to wake before noon at the least. But, like most things in the past month, Venti has a way of surprising him.
“Good morning,” Venti says when Diluc shifts to get out of bed. “You’re up early.”
“I should be the one saying that to you,” Diluc responds. “Go back to sleep.”
“Mmn, I can’t.”
“And why is that?”
Without breaking eye contact, Venti cups Diluc’s hand in his own and brings it between his own thighs. A small ‘ah,’ escapes Diluc as he finds Venti’s cock fully hard.
“You’re not late, are you? Could you help me out?” Venti purrs as he motions Diluc’s hand past the waistline of his trousers.
“What’s gotten you so worked up?” Diluc asks, dipping further to slick his fingers before beginning to stroke Venti’s little cock lazily. He’s still groggy with sleep, and uncoordinated, but so is Venti, and he doesn't seem too concerned with tact at the present.
Venti keens. “Maybe just the feeling of you beside me is enough to make my thoughts wander.”
Diluc is so much larger than Venti, and his prick is completely enveloped by Diluc’s firm hand. “Mmmh, hah, please,” Venti chirps, “please, more,”
“Greedy,” Diluc grumbles, and pinches at a pert nipple. Venti moans pathetically, a bit too loudly and Diluc’s heart jumps as he remembers, unlike last night, they’re likely not the only ones awake.
Oh Archons, last night.
“You’re too loud,” he warns, though he doesn’t cease either of his ministrations. If anything, he tweaks Venti’s little nipple harder in punishment, and the bard bucks his hips into Diluc’s fist.
“I can’t help it… I love you, Master Diluc…”
His breath catches, and they’re close enough that Diluc knows Venti took notice. “I love you too,” is all he can whisper back, and Venti feels like he’s being taken apart. He stutters his hips into Diluc’s fist and comes with a small cry. His breath comes in short gasps as Diluc works him through it, not relenting until Venti is soft again in his hand.
“Better now?” Diluc asks, and Venti nods sleepily. Diluc pushes Venti’s bangs out of his face in a small gesture of affection. There is shuffling around the room as Diluc changes out of his smallclothes and into a simple collared shirt and vest. Venti watches through hooded eyes that don’t hide the way they linger on the expanse of Diluc’s back as he dresses.
As Diluc is about to leave, Venti pipes up from under the blankets he’s swathed himself in.
“Master Diluc?”
Diluc pauses to look over his shoulder. “Bard?”
Venti smiles. “That’s for making me fall asleep to the sounds of you pleasuring yourself last night. Have a good day at work!”
The maids downstairs exchange a look at the overheard comment, and then make sure to busy themselves with something so as to pretend not to see Master Diluc hastily making for the front doors, face aflame.