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In the center of a heart of stone, there’s a sparkling chance that what’s inside could be much more delicate—or even more pliable— than the rock that surrounds it.
In reference to Rex Lapis, that surrounding shell of hardened clay that wraps around his heart has started to crack away. Not exactly quickly, of course. Time and the experiences that come with it have slipped between the crevices of his body and mind, peeling away a part of his soul that was more… level headed. Oh how soft he’s grown.
The fluffiness that comes with this change isn’t unwelcome, just different. At least, it is to Morax. to his fellow archon friend however, it’s something they have never seemed to lack. It's what makes them themselves, Zhongli had always thought. It’s something the younger archon had always picked on him for; being so head-set all the time.
After so much time, so many stories and memories shared, wars fought… the two have found themselves enjoying the most mundane of activities. Which to one of the two retirees entails drinking until they drop. And—as he predicted they would— they drop hard. Into slumber, anyway.
The tendrils of Barbatos’ half-undone braids spread over the tenderness of both their pale skin and the similarly white pillow they rest their heavy head on. It being mid-day, The rays of sun cannot resist spilling through the curtains of the well kept room any longer. A bard whose duty is to wake and sing to their people rises at the first glimpse of light.
Immediately awake with a splitting headache, it’s not hard to guess what they and Zhongli had gotten up to last night. Venti turns their head into their own hair, trying to head back to lala land, but the odor of alcohol still present in the strands keeps them from that dream. Oh well.
Its probably already late in the day anyway, they thought. Mondstadt would have to do without their bard until tonight. The sleepy man looks through their heavy eyelashes, their bright teal eyes contrasting the surprisingly golden-orange hue of the rest of the room. At least from the bed where the open curtains let the flood of the large star seep into the bedroom. It almost looks like a painting; a color wash or an overlay swept over the canvas.
Something feels missing though. emptiness beside them where Venti could’ve sworn there was a presence. They turn their sorry head with another morning whine, when they find what they knew they were missing. On the other side of the large bed stands Zhongli, a silky robe around his body and one mug in each of his draconic hands. The blue of the cup he doesn’t have his lips on contrasts with the still yellow hue of his claws. He looks up, finishing up a sip of something that is clearly still steaming.
“Good afternoon. Did you sleep well?”
“Yawn… don’t joke. It's not after noon,”
Venti sits up in bed, curling their legs up under the covers. “…is it?”
“No, it is not. but it might as well be, with how long you’ve slept.”
The standing man hands the bed-ridden one the blue mug with one hand, Venti taking the cup in both their hands before carefully resting it over the covers, holding it by the handle.
“And I assume you’re regretting your late-night choices by now.” His knowing tone is familiarly patronizing.
“Hush. Ugh...”
As if to prove Zhongli correct, the poor bard's head is struck by a jolt of pain. Is this what you get for not listening to advice you know is true?
“There's coffee in the mug. I got up slightly earlier to prepare it for you. You were knocked out, and i didn’t intend to wake you. I knew you wouldn’t be feeling too well.”
“No tea? I'm surprised. Is this the Morax I know?” A tilt of the head, keeping up spirits.
“I’m already aware you drink it every morning. The caffeine helps with headaches as well.”
Venti looks down into the cup, eyes clouded by the steam before lifting it and taking a long sip. A few tongue clicking sounds follow when their lips part from their mug, their taste buds scorched.
“It's a little hot, but yummy.”
“I expected you’d wait until it cooled off a bit.”
The hungover god stretches their legs under the covers as they put their thoughtfully filled mug of coffee on the nearby bedside table, making sure there’s a coaster to be placed under it. The muscle memory of those actions make them fully realize that yes, they’re in the property of Zhongli. I guess Mondstadt won’t see Venti tonight at all, then.
Zhongli kneels down just barely, uncovering the mostly naked bard—save for an unbuttoned white shirt—a little too soon for their liking. Venti’s offended shiver is amusing to the man towering over them.
“No ‘thank you’?”
“Not after that little stunt you just pulled! It’s too cold in here for that.” They state, actively getting up and preparing to face the chilliness of the air.
Venti finally frees themselves of the heavy covers of Zhongli's bed, scooting towards the edge of the bedside to sloppily wrap their arms around Zhongli. the older man kneels even closer to the floor just so the bard can hug around his neck instead of his chest. Their head hangs heavily against his shoulder, heavy as a boulder. Embraces as light as this are unusual, even for the wind. With a quiet wrap of his arms around his familiar, he is enamored. Their sleepiness is amusing every time.
“Does your head hurt that awfully?”
“I think i had a little more than usual this time. I just cant let myself go around you without going a little too far.”
“I’m glad you’ve realized that. I’m never able to stop you, no matter how many times I remind you of the consequences.”
Venti would really rather not be hearing the ‘I told you so’ shtick right now. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?”
“Apologies, baobei.”
“uh-huh.”
The hug begins to loosen, leaving the orange eyes of the taller man looking endlessly down into the blue of the tired ones that are before him. The shift in hue from teal to dark blue is comforting, even to those who don’t need it at the moment. They still, however, hold each other's hands as they converse.
“I will run us both a bath. Does that sound nice?”
“That’s more like it.” A much more favored outcome than being stoned by Zhonglis endless scorning.
With a swift swipe of his hand, Morax lifts the lighter man right out of bed. The way in which he decides to carry them is.. questionable. He only needs one arm to hold them up, but Venti hastily tries to stay clung onto him, wrapping their limbs wherever they fit against his stone body. They know he won’t let them fall, but the quickness of how Zhongli lifts them up against him always feels unstable at first.
“One day you really are going to drop me! You’re going to feel so sorry.”
“Don't doubt me, Barbatos. your weight is akin to a feather. You know very well I don't need to use both arms.”
“What if I want to feel secure? it’s the principle, Morax.”
“Celestia..”
With the Zhongli equivalent to a groan, he sets down his mug full of tea on the bedside table, reluctantly steadying Venti’s mind with another added arm to hold them up. On Venti’s cheeks is clear contentment.
Since forever, it’s been a pattern for the two oldest archons to conspire in ways like this. Both original and newer archons could attest to Barbatos and Morax’s constant gazing and casual touching, and even their loving words toward each other. Nowadays though, with little contact with the other archons, it only makes sense the two that reside closest to each other keep up their relationship in quiet tranquility. They don’t necessarily try to hide it from others, only acknowledging it when asked. Their relation to each other needs no explanation—it is simply law written into the world.
Often, before the terrors of the Cataclysm, the God of Contracts could be found carrying the God of Song. whether it be while they’re drunk, as a battle tactic, or just because Barbatos insisted on being held. Rex Lapis may well be the only one to get such an opportunity; multiple times, at that. It’s not that Barbatos is weak—this is just for their own amusement.
The modern day is no different.
“Here we are.”
Quiet steps from their carrier as background noise, Venti gets an eyeful of Zhongli's bathroom. It is ginormous compared to Mondstadt's regular washrooms. A large, (surprisingly, for Zhongli) oval shaped white bath tub surrounded by dark maroon shower curtains, golden accents adorning the fabric. surrounding the obvious centerpiece, golden towel racks hang similarly colored towels to the shower curtain. A long, expensive looking mirror sits next to a marble sink. Even though Venti’s seen it all before, it’s almost too much to swallow after getting used to Mondstadt's quaint little homes.
“It never gets any less overwhelming, no matter how many times I see it.” Their big eyes dart around, as if checking to see if anything has changed since they last saw it.
“That’s quite dramatic even for you, Venti.”
“It's true! You know exactly what i’m used to.
“It's not a crime to let yourself enjoy Liyue's much more prosperous looking furnishing.” An argument in which they debate which of the two nations is better. A conversation that has lasted centuries.
“i’m going to punch you.”
That gets a surprisingly hearty laugh out of the old man. It's usually Venti’s job to joke so when Zhongli takes on that responsibility, it’s a little jarring (but welcome) for the bard. Still holding Venti, Zhongli bends to the faucet of the tub, twisting the knob until the temperature of the water is just right.
“Do you want it colder or warmer today? I know hangovers make you feel hot sometimes.”
“Put it just past the middle. I know you can’t handle hot baths too well.”
“Where could you have gotten that idea?”
Venti hits the old man’s rock hard chest with their fist as he turns the knob just past the middle, doing no damage.
“Every time we’ve ever been to the hot springs, you always get out so early! You leave me all on my lonesome.”
“The sweat makes my hair stick to my forehead.”
“Hah! see, I knew it. I read you very well, you just don’t like it.”
With the familiar sight of Barbatos’ tongue sticking out at him, Zhongli cannot attest to giving them a taste of their own medicine. “Alright, get down.”
Zhongli unpromptly slips one arm away from the bard's back, then threatens to take away the other one as well, loosening his grip. with a screech of terror, Venti manually unravels themselves from the rock before they can be dropped to the hard tile floor.
“You vile man!” A pout only fit for the most spoiled of gods.
“We need to undress, dear. And my arms were falling asleep.”
“Aren't you going to buy me dinner first?” Venti pulls this every time. the ‘this is too sudden! I never could’ve expected this!’ act. It's quite funny to them.
“Did you intend to bathe with your shirt on?”
“Well, it’s got stains on it. It could use a little wash.”
Not fooling anyone, the larger man takes the initiative to start undressing the stubborn god in front of him, starting with the button closest to the middle of their chest. The poet's shirt is already half unbuttoned anyway. As shocked and appalled as Venti acts, Zhongli knows better.
“Ah! You didn’t even ask first! Where did your gentlemanly charm fly off to?”
“I know your games, bard.” With a chaste, silencing peck to his friends moving lips, he combs his claw between the folds of their already half unbuttoned shirt, already nearly finished slipping it off. Nudity between the two hasn’t been unusual in a very long time, and neither of them think it ever will be again.
The white shirt finally completely unbuttoned, they pull their own arms out of the sleeves, trying to take back some ounce of control. The shirt is thrown to one of the four corners of the room, and now the blue haired deity stands before the other, bareness and all. Their soft features are hard to miss, only unique to them. gentle redness paints their stomach, shoulders and thighs. Freckles scatter in all the perfect places, whether near their collarbone or on top of their sternum. Zhongli has been positively haunted by this exact figure ever since he saw it for the very first time. They simply look like art.
“What about yourself?”
Barbatos’ words pass through Zhongli's draconic ears like the breeze, in one way and out the other. His slit-like pupils are visibly becoming more dilated the longer he gazes at the beauty before him. He never gets tired of looking at them, no matter how many years go by.
“What was that?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear me? Maybe you could process what your dear friend says more efficiently if you looked them in the eyes.”
Venti’s little jab at Zhonglis ogling snaps him out of it. “Excuse me, baobei.”
“Ah, you’re pulling out the nicknames!! I know you’re embarrassed. Hehe.”
Venti stands on their tip toes with pride, slinking their arms around Zhongli's neck to stay stable while admiring his suddenly stiff stance, having been caught a little too red handed. The tangled mess that is Venti’s hair tickles Zhongli's shoulder as they lean their head innocently on it, giving a kiss to his neck. Their lips linger just to tease his skin while they whisper.
“I thought you were more polite than to stare for so long. I suppose I can let it slide this once, though. Since you’ve been so kind as to get a bath ready for me.”
“It’s hard to watch you continue to be hungover without assistance. Even now, you still stumble.”
“That’ll go away, hon.”
“i’m aware. Is it forbidden for me to want to do something nice for you when you’re in pain?”
A loving scoff breezes between the bard's lips. “Pain is a little too strong a word—“
As Barbatos speaks, Morax takes the liberty to begin undressing himself as well. It seems important to him that they bathe together, Venti notices. The large man’s claws wrap around the tie of the robe, carefully undoing the tie that keeps the robe wrapped around him, unshielding his body from the eyes of his beloved. He wants to be on even ground with them, at least. Barbatos has been vulnerable (almost) nude since they’ve woken up, so he thinks it’s only right to join them.
Venti simply stands and watches, being forced to unwrap themselves from their lover as he abruptly decides to change. They try to say something—whether it be questioning or a joke— but all that comes out is a little croak from the back of their throat. Somehow, they’re still shocked at how sudden Morax's decisions and actions come into fruition, no matter if they’re appropriate or not. He's never exactly been the best at social cues, has he?
Robe dropping to the floor, Rex Lapis’ form is on full display. It's nothing short of magnificent, especially to Barbatos. In recent years with the arrival of a more quiet life, Zhongli has gained very slight weight, which of course Venti would never find issue in; especially since they themselves have done the same. But even so, the muscles that have always characterized him have never faded from Morax’s stature, and neither has the fading brown to gold coloring of the length of his arms. He simply glows, and poor Venti’s like a mouse to cheese.
Fortunately, most if not all of Venti’s libido was entirely spent last night. At the moment, they just want to look at him. maybe feel his skin against theirs; innocent intimacy aflame.
“You're eager, huh?”
They try to sound confident with that smirking expression smeared on their face, but the wavering in their tone is enough to give them away to anyone who knows them as well as Morax. He opts to ignore the comment, knowing anything he could say would play into Venti’s little game. There’s a time and place for everything, and to where that game would lead has no place presently. Maybe soon; As of now, relaxation is in order.
“The bath is nearly full. Here,”
The brown haired god's sizable hand extends to Venti’s, holding it before guiding them to the bath as if they would collapse if they didn’t have help. They find this sweet, however they can only imagine how it would look to anyone else. They’re just fine on their own!
The Anemo Archons lithe body slips into the lukewarm bath water, toes to knees, then to their chest, water surrounds them. Zhongli follows in unison, turning off the faucet as he does so. the water rises a considerable amount as he sits down across from his familiar. There's considerably less room than they both had thought…
“Is the temperature to your liking?”
“It's just fine, thank you. My blockhead is back to being a man of delicacy.” The smaller man cups their hands, dips them under the water, then pours the water they’ve skillfully captured over the other man’s head.
Zhongli blinks drops of water away from his eyes, his long eyelashes acting as a near impenetrable shield to his eyes. He's quite used to this, after all. Many times does he recall the Anemo Archon dumping wine atop his head, soaking him with a proud smile on their face. At first, he couldn’t understand the purpose of doing so other than to annoy him. But as it happened more and more, his heart began to adapt to it, eventually figuring out it was an attempt at bonding to the other archon. could he truly get mad at that?
“I think your hair needs a good washing, mister Zhongli. It smells like dandelion wine!!”
“That may be your fault, Barbatos.”
“Me? What, did I dump it on you last night?”
“You don’t recall? You threatened to spill it if I didn’t allow you to have the whole bottle yourself. If you’d drank all of it, you would’ve thrown it up.”
“I do not recall, no. But past me sure has a good sense of humor. I should keep that in mind…”
Venti shifts and swivels in the water, reaching just past Morax’s shoulder to skillfully take both the shampoo and conditioner bottles in only one hand. With their tongue sticking out between their lips, they unscrew the shampoo bottle.
“Ah, this stuff is so fancy. Actually, it smells like,”
They stick their nose over the open bottle, taking a sniff. “glaze lilies.”
“Hu Tao gifted it to me as a present last year during my birthday. She told me Baizhu played a part in concocting it.”
“Awh, I adore that girl. I need to find time to write some poetry with her again. She's quite the master! Maybe she’d like to join my poetry class…”
Venti rubs their shampoo-covered hands together until the shampoo is bubbly, then extends their arms to smear it all over the top of the other archon's head. continuing, they rustle his hair to make sure the shampoo gets every single strand it can.
“She quite likes you, Venti. she couldn’t stop talking about how much fun she had during the poetry event you had held together.”
“i’d love to hold something like that again, you know. We didn't get to spend a lot of time together.”
“We're spending time together right now.”
“Yes, but it’s fun to watch the kids together, isn’t it? It makes all the trouble setting up the event worth it, seeing them all have so much fun.”
The water somehow feels warmer around Zhongli's torso as Venti speaks. The treasures that are Barbatos’ citizens always amaze them, and they do anything they can to bond with them; that Zhongli already knew. But their love extends so far as to bond and want to take care of Zhongli's people as well. To consider the children of someone else your own…
“Shut your eyes, silly. I'm gonna wash it out now.”
At Venti’s demand, he realizes he had been staring at Venti’s stomach for who knows how long. His thoughts were overwhelmingly flooded with something he couldn’t discern. something paternal mixed with…
“Woosh!!”
Following their warning (and frankly accurate sounding impression), water from the palms of Barbatos’ hands stream down Zhongli's face and hair, creating a small waterfall down his back.
“I told you to close them. At least you’re awake now.”
“I’ve…been awake.”
“Not mentally, it seems. What are you thinking about?”
A knock from Venti’s knuckles to his forehead makes him scoff. He shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than this bath.
“I was thinking it may be time for the conditioner.”
“Patience, dear. I was getting to that part.”
For once, Barbatos is none the wiser to the other archons' thoughts, or to the ever softening rock that keeps his urges hidden away. He'd never imagined his vulnerability would be shared with anyone but his own mind. Barbatos, though, unknowingly erodes the shackles around his heart; cracking and pulling away each slab of stone with their bare hands. They want to see everything. To see his war-hardened eyes rest on theirs—to tell them how he feels without riddle. His heart to be free to feel forevermore.
With conditioner being rubbed into his hair by the one he loves most, he can’t stop himself from imagining an even more mundane life. A more traditional one, maybe. For both of them.
Once again, time has proven to make do with even the most guarded of hearts.
“Venti.”
“Mhm?”
“You make an excellent father.”