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Diluc’s breath came out in pained, wheezed gasps. His claymore was the only thing keeping him from collapsing; his grip was shaky upon the handle, his blurred vision turning the surroundings into blobs of white. Diluc’s blood burned where it coated his fingers, a sharp contrast from the icy atmosphere chilling him to the bone.
It had only taken a lucky strike, and another when they’d pressed in as Diluc had reared back, ready to take advantage of any weakness they could sniff out. Diluc hadn't let them take another. The fight had ended soon after, any enemies not out of commission taking the time to flee like the cowards they were. Diluc would have chased after them, but…
Diluc’s knees buckled, unable to handle the strain anymore, and he collapsed to the floor with a pained groan. He lifted a trembling hand to his face, the blood standing out against the black of his gloves.
The fight had taken Diluc close to Dragonspine, not deep enough to worry about the monsters of the dangerous mountain, but far enough from Mondstadt that the likelihood of being found was low. Diluc had told no one where he had gone when he’d left, and even if he had, his path had diverged when he’d gone after the Abyss Lector.
Diluc was on his own. Squeezing his sword, he called forth his flames; the brilliant sight was dazzling, warming Diluc where he lay in the freezing snow. Being warm would have been one less thing to worry about, a danger that passed by quickly, if the flames didn’t sputter and go out - not lasting longer than a few seconds, and getting shorter each time he tried to call them.
The fight had been too long, and he’d overdone it. Fuck.
Resisting the urge to childishly call upon his Pyro again and again until it worked, Diluc tried to get up instead. His limbs felt like stone, and the wound sent waves of agony through him, but Diluc tried his best to ignore it. Perhaps he might have managed it, stubbornly ignoring everything but his will to live, to get out and go home -
But then he slipped, his hand squeezing his stomach as he crashed back down with a cry. Dragging in a pained breath, Diluc grit his teeth and tried to wait out the pain. When it died down just the slightest bit, he tried again. And then again when he could barely move. Each subsequent attempt only sapped more of his dwindling energy until Diluc could only lie there, staring up at the sky.
Had he used the last of his strength just trying to stand?
Ha.
That was it then - it would be a toss up between dying of the cold, or dying of his injuries. Which would win?
The last thing Diluc heard before he passed out was footsteps crunching on the snow, and a voice that sparked recognition, though he didn’t know why.
–
Each attempt Diluc made at waking up went by in flashes: the sense of being carried, of warmth chasing away the chill, and through it all that same voice talking incessantly. A flash of orange was his only clue before he lost consciousness again, and then a mask that made him reach for his sword on subconscious impulse. Diluc was never awake long enough for his mind to make a connection before it all slipped away.
Thankfully the pain of his wound was not what woke him, although the sharp pulsing migraine that had done so was not any better. Nor was the scorching heat that threatened to burn him from the inside out. A fever.
Perfect.
Shifting his head slightly, Diluc took in his surroundings with a dampened alarm, too sick to really muster up any reaction other than a stifled whimper. There was only one thing he latched onto: it was a cave. Nothing else stuck to his cloudy thoughts. There was a fire going, sending everything into stark relief, and a man with orange hair was watching him, an amused twist to his lips.
There was a prick of recognition there, a name on the tip of his tongue that Diluc couldn’t quite reach.
“You.. I know you..?” Diluc said, or at least tried to. It came out more muffled than Diluc had intended it to, words slurring and sticking together.
“Forgetting me already, Mr. Diluc? I’m hurt.” Plucking off his gloves, the man moved from the fire to close the distance, his now bare hand coming up to touch Diluc’s forehead. “Aren’t we friends? We’d had such a wonderful time together, after all.”
Flashes of memory fought to be acknowledged; a sharp laugh in the middle of a fight, duels brought to a standstill over and over, neither able to win outright; a helping hand, distrustfully taken. Diluc had always been unwilling to truly consider this man an ally, because this man was a monster. He was a-
“Harbinger…?”
“So you do remember me! And here I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me.” Placing his hand underneath Diluc’s head, Tartaglia gently coaxed him up, slowly getting him to take sips of cool, clean water. Diluc didn’t even question it as he usually might have; everything had a hazy, dream-like sheen to it. Was this actually happening?
Was this some sort of messed up, fever dream?
Tartaglia worked quickly, making sure Diluc stayed covered so that the coolness of the air didn’t touch him, taking off the near dry compress on Diluc’s forehead and replacing it with a colder one. Diluc’s whimper at the shock of it slowed him down, Tartaglia’s expression softening, his hand coming up to stroke Diluc’s hair.
“You should get some more sleep, Mr. Diluc. You’ll feel better later.”
Any denial Diluc would have spoken was quickly thrown to the wayside as he lost the fight to stay awake.
–
When Diluc awoke next, his mind was a little clear and his fever easier to ignore. There was only one thing he clung to with all his might, that pushed away the final issue he had - that being his still incredibly painful injury. That one thing was murder. Specifically, murder of an orange haired asshole of a Harbinger who didn’t look at all opposed to his actions.
The delighted look Tartaglia sported almost took the wind out of his sails, though.
“Aw, come on now, truce?” Tartaglia said, at ease even with Diluc’s claymore dangerously close to his neck. The Hydro dagger digging into Diluc’s chest most likely had something to do with it. “There’s no fun in beating a man when he’s already down, don’t you think? There’s always next time.”
“You-!” Diluc snarled, or he at least tried to. The pain of his injury was too much for him to ignore any longer. Falling back with a pained gasp, his claymore fell from his grip. His bright red hair was a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin, making it all the more obvious that Diluc had gone dangerously pale.
It took Diluc what felt like hours to claw his way back, to stop feeling like he would pass out again, for the pain to dampen down into something more manageable. Every shift brought on a fresh, new wave of agony, so Diluc tried to stay as still as he could.
Tartaglia hadn’t left his side, for once keeping his unwanted comments to himself. The way he let Diluc squeeze his arm to try and distract himself from the pain was… appreciated, though Diluc couldn’t understand why. Then again, Diluc had stopped trying to understand Tartaglia the first time he’d done something like this.
It was something they just didn’t talk about.
“You really got yourself into a bit of a mess this time didn’t you, Diluc?” Tartaglia murmured, sounding almost fond.
“The last person I want to hear that from is you,” Diluc bit out, gritting his teeth against the pain.
“Do you see anyone else here? I think you’ll have to take what you can get, Diluc.” The cheeky grin made Diluc scowl and gave him something else to focus on beside the pain… which only brought awareness of the way he was resting against Tartaglia’s chest, and just how long he had been doing so. Fighting back a flush, and ignoring the aching of his muscles and the burn of his injury, Diluc shifted to get up, only to be stopped by Tartaglia pushing him back down. Tartaglia's hands gently but firmly rested on Diluc’s chest, well away from his injury.
“What are you-? Let go!” Digging his nails into Tartaglia’s hand and trying to get Tartaglia to release him didn’t do much. Fucking asshole.
“I don't think you should move just yet. It’s not very often I get to save someone, you know! You wouldn’t want to ruin my handiwork, would you?” Though Tartaglia’s voice stayed light and his expression open, it was clear he was serious. Tartaglia wouldn’t let go until Diluc agreed to stay put.
Before he could stop himself, Diluc snapped. “As if you’re one to talk about ruining handiwork.”
“Following my example, are you?” Tartaglia laughed, his delight plain to see.” I’m flattered, Diluc! Besides, I did thank you for that, didn’t I?”
Tempted to push the issue, Diluc fell abruptly silent as Tartaglia pushed up his clothes to take a look at his wound. Any angry words Diluc had been about to voice died before he could say them as Tartaglia gently checked over his injury, leaving a trail of fiery pain in his wake.
Diluc's breath hitched before he could stop it - the overuse of his Pyro had affected him deeply. He felt cold from the inside out in a way he never was, the warmth normally just a thought away no longer there. Even his fever couldn't touch it. With how often Diluc had overused his Pyro, he’d have thought he’d grown used to it, but it was never anything but a shock to the system. Dragonspine’s temperature didn’t help matters. The layers of blankets Tartaglia had piled on him helped, and yet none of it compared to the touch of Tartaglia’s fingers.
“Everything looks okay.” Even as Tartaglia pulled back, Diluc could still feel his touch. “Guess you're lucky huh, Diluc?"
His tongue felt too big for his mouth, his words trapped in his throat. It had been so warm. All complaints were forgotten, the adrenaline that had gotten him this far depleted. All Diluc could focus on was how tired he felt all of a sudden. No matter how much Diluc tried to shake it off, the exhaustion felt bone deep.
Staring at a corner of the cave, Diluc blinked, though it did nothing to abate how heavy his eyelids felt. His limbs felt as if they were weighed down by boulders. He'd just been about to drift off when a low noise roused him from his thoughts.
Diluc shifted his head slightly towards Tartaglia, bemused to hear the soft humming - a tune he didn’t recognise, softer and lighter than he’d thought a bloodthirsty harbinger would ever be capable of. Tartaglia had returned to his previous task, and was now cutting up fruit quickly and cleanly.
“What were you doing on Dragonspine?” He hadn't meant to say the words out loud. Diluc decided quickly he’d blame it on his fever.
Tartaglia paused for only a moment, likely trying to understand Diluc’s low and hoarse voice. He spared Diluc a quick look - of concern? - before turning back to the fruit. “Oh, this and that! I do have a life outside of being a bad guy, you know.”
“You could have fooled me.” Diluc snorted, refusing to ask any more questions that Tartaglia would slip around answering, though it burned at him. With nothing else to occupy his thoughts, and sleep slipping away once more, his mind inevitably turned back to his unwanted companion. What could his apparent personal business in Mondstadt be for? And why was he on Dragonspine? Experience told Diluc that he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted, unless Tartaglia felt like telling him.
“Would you believe me if I said I missed home? Dragonspine’s perfect! Cold and danger around every corner. Why, it’s like I never left!” Diluc rolled his eyes, and Tartaglia laughed. “Aw, am I that untrustworthy?”
Diluc didn’t even dignify the question with a response.
-
Hours - days? It was hard to tell in the cave - passed in much the same way, Tartaglia dodging questions and Diluc failing to hold them back. Any attempts at heading home were quickly thwarted by Tartaglia, a stern ‘not yet!’ with a wink. And Tartaglia always, always laughed at Diluc’s attempt to take his head off in return. It was almost peaceful. At the very least, they’d settled into a routine.
Of course, when Tartaglia finally decided Diluc was ready to make the journey home, it was another story.
"I don't need your help," Diluc snapped, adding a glare for good measure. Like hell he was going to let the fucking Harbinger carry him back to Dawn Winery. His headache had gone down a little and, though he still ached, it was now at a far more manageable level. At least enough to get him back home and into his own damn bed.
Moving back a step, Tartaglia threw up his hands in mock-surrender. "Of course not! I'm sure you'll set a great pace rolling down the mountain."
"You-!"
Diluc moved too quickly in his anger and it felt like the world twisted around him. He didn’t even have time to gasp before gravity caught hold and almost sent him crashing to the floor. Tartaglia caught him just in time, lowering them both to the floor. Minutes that felt like hours passed, Diluc’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to ride out the sickening dizziness.
Slowly the world started to bleed in again; his own breathing, loud in his ears, and a soft voice murmuring words he didn’t understand. Diluc became aware of Tartaglia’s warmth pressed against him, and Tartaglia’s hand stroking through his hair. Knowing that he would regret it later, Diluc bit back any protests and just let himself… feel.
It felt better than it had any right to.
Cautiously opening his eyes, Diluc held back a grimace at how lightheaded he felt. The meagre light that shone through the cave burned his eyes. A small part of him was tempted to lie down and sleep it off again, but a bigger part wanted to get it over with, go home and put this entire thing behind him.
Who knew how long he’d be stuck here, if he didn’t force the issue now?
The silence between them stretched as Diluc got his bearings, his breathing slowing, though now he ached anew, undoing any progress. Thankfully, though, his injury stayed a low, uncomfortable buzz instead of a raging inferno of pain. Tartaglia waited with a patience Diluc rarely saw him possess.
Of course, no sooner had the thought crossed Diluc’s mind before Tartaglia ruined it by opening his mouth. “Come on now. Between staying here stuck with me, or letting me help you get home, which is worse?” Tartaglia said, a fond grin on his face, leaning in to touch his forehead to Diluc’s. Diluc huffed, unwilling to answer when he felt so nauseous, though he felt he got his displeasure across anyway. Tartaglia, as he always did, ignored it. “I thought you’d see it my way.”
The way Diluc restrained himself from headbutting Tartaglia at his smug tone impressed even himself, even if it was mainly the thought of the resulting migraine that would spring up that kept him rooted.
“You’re still not carrying me,” Diluc said, using Tartaglia’s shoulders to push himself to his feet. “I can walk.”
Merely humming his agreement, Tartaglia finished packing up their impromptu camp while Diluc waited by the entrance of the cave. It gave Diluc time to take stock: a headache that, he knew from experience, would be a bitch to get rid of; muscles that felt seconds away from giving out, though he had done nothing but rest; his injury was at least still easily ignored, though it likely wouldn’t stay that way on the trek home. All of it together was not ideal, but doable. Diluc was absolutely not going to ask for help from Tartaglia.
Still, there was one relief: his Pyro flickered on the edge of his thoughts, slowly filling in the hole he’d felt in its absence.
“Ready to go, Diluc?” Without waiting for a reply, Tartaglia forged ahead only to pause at the entrance, eyes flicking from the mouth of the cave to Diluc.
“What is it?” Diluc said, annoyed already at whatever was causing Tartaglia to delay their journey even further.
Tartaglia abruptly wrapped his coat around Diluc before he could protest. The sudden warmth was a welcome thing, though Diluc immediately put up a shaking hand to grab Tartaglia’s wrist. His other hand went to yank the coat off, only for Tartaglia’s free hand to grab his. The thought of how ridiculous they must look flashed through Diluc’s mind.
“I think you need it a little more than me, don’t you?” Tartaglia said teasingly.
“I’m not wearing it, take it back,” Diluc snapped. “What are you even going to wear? It’s freezing!”
Diluc quickly regretted the words the moment he said them, especially when Tartaglia’s lip twitched in amusement. “I think I can put up with a little cold better than you, Diluc,” he said. “Especially now, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t agree to wear your fucking coat.”
“Well, it’s either you wear this, or we stay here until you’re all better~!” Tartaglia leant back against the wall, arms crossed, looking content to wait against the freezing cold wall until Diluc did as he said. Every moment in Tartaglia’s presence brought a new one that made Diluc want to punch him, and this just happened to be the most recent winner.
Looking to a random corner of the cave to think it through, and so he wouldn't try to attack Tartaglia again after the last fiasco, Diluc considered his options. He could follow through and refuse to wear the Harbinger's coat, but he knew that Tartaglia would have no objection at making him stay. Usually Diluc would just fight his way out, but with the way fucking standing was getting increasily difficult, Diluc wasn’t sure if he could.
“Fine.” Diluc said, flatly. “Let’s just get out of here.”
To Diluc’s surprise, Tartaglia didn’t talk much on their way down the mountain. Other than the occasional check in on how Diluc was doing, and a warning of ‘watch your step!’, Tartaglia kept his thoughts to himself. The long journey was made even longer by Tartaglia’s insistence on breaks, no matter how much Diluc snapped he could keep going. It was either they take a break, or Diluc let Tartaglia help him, Tartaglia had said.
Diluc unwillingly agreed to take breaks.
It wasn’t until they were on the edge of Dawn Winery that they stopped. It was the scent of grapes that hit Diluc first, and he felt relief instantly well up. Though he couldn't have been gone any longer than a few days, it had felt much longer. The breeze was a pleasant coolness compared to the biting chill of Dragonspine, and the soft voices of his staff talking amongst each other all added to the feeling of home.
“Guess this is the end of the road for us, huh? Don’t miss me too much!”
Diluc rolled his eyes, letting the wall take a little of his weight so he could rest a little before heading into Dawn Winery proper. Diluc wouldn’t be able to just collapse into bed, no, first he’d have to look over the paperwork he'd put to the side when he’d caught wind of the Fatui being close by; explain his absence too, though thankfully he hadn’t been gone long enough to cause worry…
The thought of it all was enough to make his headache throb.
When Tartaglia still made no move to leave, Diluc finally dragged his eyes away to give Tartaglia a look; a silent question. There was never any variation in their meetups; something happened, they talked, they fought, and one always left. Except now Tartaglia was lingering, and even had a spark to his eyes. Diluc knew what it meant, and whatever it was was likely to be something Tartaglia knew would push his buttons.
The idiot never could resist pushing.
Waiting him out was quickly tossed aside, when Diluc lost his patience. “Well, what are you waiting fo-”
Without waiting for him to finish the sentence, Tartaglia grasped the front of Diluc’s coat and pulled him into a kiss.
It was terrible. Between Tartaglia’s incapability to stop grinning and the way Diluc froze in shock, the kiss stayed chaste, but it burned where they were connected. Tartaglia laughed as Diluc grabbed the back of his head and pulled him away, his grin turning sharp and unrepentant.
“Don’t go dying on me now, you hear?” Tartaglia said, eyes flicking to Diluc’s lips and back to his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Diluc resisted the urge to touch his lips, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Keeping his attention on Tartaglia instead of the kiss took far more focus than Diluc would ever admit to.
“Would you have let me otherwise? I couldn’t resist!” Tartaglia said impishly, not bothering to break Diluc's hold on him, though Diluc's grip had started to slacken.
Any retort Diluc thought of, any kind of demand as to what Tartaglia was playing at, fell to the wayside. Being in forced proximity with him for the last however long while in pain had cut away at any of his more reasonable actions, had forced him to think of things he’d ruthlessly buried every time Tartaglia popped back into his life. So Diluc responded in kind - he gripped Tartaglia’s hair anew, and pulled him back in for another kiss.
The way Tartaglia’s eyes went wide made it worth it.
“Maybe you should ask before deciding things for me.” Diluc felt himself flush, though he stuck by his words. It felt like all he was doing was revealing things he hadn’t meant to, thoughts that should have stayed hidden. Tartaglia had the most annoying habit of doing that to him.
“Aw, Diluc! I knew you cared!” Tartaglia said, lip curved into a sly smirk. There was relief there, in the way tensed muscles relaxed ever so slightly. Tartaglia hadn’t been as confident as he’d appeared to be.
Gritting his teeth, Diluc moved before he could think better of it, and shut Tartaglia up with a kiss. From the way Tartaglia laughed around the kiss, he knew it too. There was a slight sense of inevitability around it all, as if they’d been building towards this.
Tartaglia pulled back, his eyes softer and fonder than Diluc had ever seen. Diluc looked away, uncomfortable with the gaze, with the way it made him feel. There was a voice that screamed at him, this is a harbinger! And yet another that whispered: he's Tartaglia.
Tartaglia had the most annoying habit of mixing up his emotions. Asshole.
Diluc’s attention snapped back when Tartaglia brushed his lips over Diluc’s forehead. It was petal soft, yet it made Diluc's breath catch. “I don’t want to kiss and run, but I really do need to go, now.” Tartaglia said ruefully.
“Tartaglia,” Diluc said, rolling his eyes at Tartaglia’s unrepentant grin, Taking off Tartaglia’s coat slowly so he didn’t pull at his injury, Diluc held it out for him to take, only to be left staring incredulously when Tartaglia stepped out of reach. The fuck?
“You should keep it a little longer, Diluc! It looks good on you.” Tartaglia playfully leered, though it looked even sillier with the way he tried to unsuccessfully hold back his grin. Diluc shot a glare in response.
“Take it back,” Diluc said, flatly. “I don’t want it.”
“No, keep it! Think of it as my way of saying see you soon, I’ll want it back after all!” Ignoring Diluc’s protests with a laugh, Tartaglia made his escape before Diluc could get his wits about him and throw it at the moron. Instead he was left there, holding the coat aloft and watching as Tartaglia got further and further away.
Diluc let the wall take more of his weight, still looking in the direction that Tartaglia had long since disappeared from. “Idiot.”
It was the first time that Diluc had had tangible proof that he’d see the Harbinger again. That the next time they saw each other wouldn’t be a coincidence. That Tartaglia even wanted to see him.
It was… something. Stupid. Diluc should burn the coat and leave this whole mess behind him, once and for all.
Diluc’s gaze shifted from the long empty hillside to the coat in his hands, wrinkles forming where he’d clenched his fingers. It would be so easy to burn it, his Pyro now only a single thought away. It would be a smart decision, really. Who willingly entangled themselves with a fucking Harbinger?
Diluc took in a shuddering breath, and made his decision.
The coat was carefully folded over Diluc’s arm as he finally went home.