#you know I keep saying my cough is annoying rn but I keep inhaling those little frozen juice sticks or whatever they’re called- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suddencolds · 3 years

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I see you say you're taking prompts and I instantly kick down your door. I'd write this myself if I was at home rn but. Venti starting to come down with a cold but going out drinking anyways but the strong scent of the alcohol keeps making him sneeze whenever he tries to drink and people are starting to Worry

Hi anon!! First, sorry for the delay!!! Second, thank you for the prompt (which I have interpreted to take place during Windblume festival, just because. <33) I’ve run around with Venti so much recently that I feel like it’s about time that I write something for him ;w; Hope you enjoy!

—

In hindsight, all the signs were there.

Venti wakes up with the sort of deep, unshakeable exhaustion he hasn’t felt in years—strictly speaking, archons don’t need sleep, so he finds he’s rarely this tired. He catches himself almost nodding off after a conversation with Amber and has to pinch himself awake; when afternoon rolls around, he takes an indulgent nap at Windrise, only to somehow wake up twice as tired as before.

He feels restless, if anything, and it’s too cold outside for his liking, so he heads to the Angel’s Share. Kaeya still owes him a drink as payment for the lessons in poetry—besides, he’s sure the alcohol will warm him up.

It’s one of those days when the tavern is crammed full of customers. When he pushes open the door, he spends a good few seconds trying to find somewhere to sit, until Kaeya—who is predictably present—waves him over.

“Why, if it isn’t Mondstadt’s greatest bard.”

“I seem to recall you owing me one last drink to cover your tuition fee,” Venti tells him.

Kaeya laughs. “I was hoping you’d have forgotten.”

“Haha! I assure you, my memory is excellent when it comes to wine.”

Next to Kaeya is Jean, the Acting Grand-Master, which is unexpected—Venti has always seen her as someone too respectable to drink—but closer inspection tells him that she’s nursing a cup of Windblume Apple Cider, which makes marginally more sense. Then, behind the bar, is Diluc.

“It’s quite the occasion, isn’t it?” Venti says, taking a seat next to Kaeya, though something about a sudden change in temperature in the tavern makes him shiver. “Even Master Diluc is here tonight.”

Jean nods. “He wanted Charles to take the day off so he could properly celebrate.”

“It’s nothing like that. I just happened to be free,” Diluc denies—though, Venti knows that Diluc’s schedule is much less rigid than the Knights’—he gets the sense that Diluc is only here when he actually wants to be here.

“Quite the gentleman, isn’t he?” Kaeya says, giving Diluc a significant look, which Diluc pointedly ignores. “So, what do I owe you? A Windblume-exclusive Apple Cider?”

Venti suppresses another shiver. Really, the tavern feels unusually chilly. Perhaps it’s been set like this in expectation for the abundance of customers—he supposes they’d be less enthusiastic about drinking for hours in a tavern that’s stiflingly warm—but isn’t this overdoing it a bit?

“Actually, I think I’m in the mood for Dandelion Wine,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out uncharacteristically scratchy. “It’ll save you a couple hundred mora.”

Kaeya nods. “Another order of Dandelion Wine, then?”

Venti leans forward on his stool, propping his arms up on the countertop, and listens as Kaeya and Jean discuss the most efficient way for the Knights to investigate some strange movements from the Fatui agents lately. They’re both excellent strategists, though where Jean is reserved, well-acquainted with the terrain and its shortcuts, Kaeya is reckless, pushing for efficiency over certainty. Diluc is listening too, even though he doesn’t offer any interjections.

It’s an enjoyable conversation to sit in on, but Venti really wishes it weren’t so cold here. His nose is running, and there’s a tickle in his nose, so sharp and so pressing that he has to—

“hiih’NKTch-uu!” He sniffles, wiping his nose absently on one wrist.

“Bless you,” Kaeya says offhandedly, then resumes speaking.

It’s only a few seconds later that he finds his breath hitching again. Such a sustained reaction must be—

“hiih… hiiIH’KScHuu!”

—the result of something he’s well acquainted with. This time, it’s Jean that blesses him.

“Ugh, Master Diluc,” Venti laments. “Since when have you allowed cats in the tavern?”

Diluc raises an eyebrow. “I don’t. Has someone brought a cat in?”

“I didn’t see one. But something here seems to be setting off… my.... hiih!!” His nose is actually running now, and he shivers—a lost sneeze is much less unsatisfying than one seen to conclusion. “...my allergies, snf-!”

“Are you sure you want to order wine?” Jean says. “It’s a histamine, so I’m afraid it might make you feel worse, if you’re allergic.”

“It’s no big deal, hehe, just… annoying… hahh… hAHH…” Venti raises a hand to his face, his eyes snapping shut— “hAH’KTCHh-yuu!”

“Bless you,” Jean and Kaeya say simultaneously.

“snf…! Thanks, I’m not sure what’s gotten into me.” Somehow, the next breath he takes in comes in all wrong, and before he knows it he’s muffling coughs into the same hand—harsher, perhaps, than the situation justifies.

“Are you feeling alright?” Jean asks.

Venti smiles, trying for reassuring. “Don’t worry about me! I’m as well as always, snf! Perhaps someone came in with their shirt covered in cat hairs…”

“Or it could be a cold,” Kaeya offers, with a shrug. “Your face is a little red.”

“It is?” Venti asks, though he doesn’t consider the possibility seriously. “I hope it’s flattering.”

Diluc hands him his Dandelion Wine, which Venti takes from him gratefully. On days like this, he’s glad Diluc knows his identity as Barbatos—evenings like this are much more pleasant when the town’s bartenders are willing to indulge him. The burn of the alcohol is pleasant as he sips, but strangely…

...it’s not enough.

Everything’s too cold, still—frigid in a way he feels shivery and tired, even though he thinks he might actually be sweating. He takes another long sip—half out of desperation—and finds that his throat is sore.

“...Venti?”

Before he knows it, Jean is leaning forward to press the back of her hand to his forehead. Jean has always been gentle, and Venti almost protests as she lowers her hand.

“I think you have a fever,” she says.

That can’t be right, can it? “You must be mistaken. I don’t get... hiIh… hiiIH’K-sShu!... sick, snf-!”

Kaeya sighs. “You sound just like Diluc. Really, maybe hot apple cider would’ve been a better choice.”

“No,” Venti insists, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. I... can’t get sick.” He rubs his nose, sniffling into the back of one hand. Diluc passes him a generous stack of napkins. “I’m not supposed to be able to.”

Jean seems to catch on. “Because of your godhood?” Kaeya doesn’t seem surprised at her statement, which implies that Jean has probably told him already.

“I think so. I can’t remember the last time I’ve caught something, and it hasn’t… haHH… snf! It hasn’t ever been something I’ve had to worry about… hIIIh…” Suddenly he’s scrambling for another napkin from the stack, barely managing to unfold it before he’s holding it shakily up to his face. “hiIIHK’SCHhhew! snf-! Ugh, excuse me...”

His head protests. He blinks, his vision swimming, and shuts his eyes.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Kaeya says, sounding so genuine that Venti finds himself faintly surprised. He doesn’t realize Diluc’s taken his coat off until he feels the weight of it around his shoulders.

Perhaps it’s because his gnosis isn’t with him, he realizes, with a jolt. He’s always kept it on him—more inseparable, less tangible than his Vision is, but now that it’s in the hands of the eighth of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers, maybe it means that some of the perks of godhood are gone with it, too.

“I guess so,” he admits. The tickle in his nose is back—not as incessant as it is when he’s petting a cat, but it’s there nonetheless, present and vicious enough to make him shiver in anticipation as his breath snags on an inhale. “hiiH… hiIIH... hIIHKTChh’yuu!” His shoulders shutter forward with the release, forceful enough to jostle the cups on the countertop.

“Bless—”

“HIiih…. IKKSSch’uu!”

“—you.” From Diluc, this time.

Venti blows his nose softly into the napkin and reaches for another. Will this never end? How long are colds supposed to last? Allergies, while annoying, are tolerable enough accompanied by the knowledge that a shower will get rid of them—he’s not looking forward to feeling like this for a week.

“...I have to admit,” he concedes, “I’m quite lost when it comes to dealing with things like this.”

“It’s alright. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” Jean says softly, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay! I don’t need...”

“You should get some rest,” Diluc adds. “Keep the jacket until you’re feeling well again.”

Venti coughs. “I didn’t mean...”

Their concern is a bit embarrassing, really—as often as he fraternizes with the citizens of Mondstadt, isn’t he supposed to be the one looking after them?—but it’s strangely comforting to have the three of them fuss over him, still.

“Why don’t I order something that will actually make you feel better, instead of worse?” Kaeya suggests.

Between today and the last time they’ve been here, Kaeya has already bought him the three drinks he’s owed. Venti sniffles lightly, adjusting Diluc’s jacket around his shoulders to keep it from slipping off. “You’ve already repaid my lessons in full, so it would be unfair of me to—”

“Consider it a tip.” Kaeya raises his own glass, smirking. “To Mondstadt’s greatest romantic advisor.”

Jean clinks her glass with his. It’s sweeter than he’s used to. Despite himself, Venti smiles.

#gen/sh/in im/pac/t #ask #(edits after posting like an idiot...)#snz kink #snz fic #snzfic

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