Chapter Text
If Diluc were to explain the days’ events, from his groggy and inescapably busy morning at the Dawn Winery, to his paperwork duties regarding packing slips for different wine orders around Teyvat, and then to his night shift manning the bar at the Angel’s Share, which he did every Friday in order to make sure his calculations for the next week’s batch of goods would be more than accurate, he would most definitely omit the minor detail that he was, in fact, not feeling his best.
Since the moment he had slipped out of bed, he had felt off. His hands were clammy, his head was uncomfortably warm, and when he focused for too long on lengthy invoices, words would mesh together into unreadable gibberish.
But Diluc Ragnvindr did not get sick. It simply wasn’t in his vocabulary. The last time he fell ill had been so long ago, there were still beds for two in his large, childish bedroom, and the warmth of a happy home rinsed the memory free of any sickly discomfort.
He was an adult now, and the weaknesses that came with being young, along with many of the other sentiments and limitations he held back then, were long gone. Someone with as many responsibilities as himself had no time to take a break because of a small setback.
On top of his errands as the Winery Heir, Diluc had his own agenda regarding upholding justice in Teyvat, and had the experience under his belt to prove his value. He had spent four years in every kind of unlivable terrain imaginable, from scouring Dragonspine in search of a Fatui stowaway, to spending months in the Sumeru underground gathering intel on Abyss Order developments. He had nursed broken bones and could boast about how the number of scars hidden under his dress shirt were less than the scrapes on his broadsword.
Diluc had built himself up into a model Mondstadt citizen who never wavered in his duties. Nothing could stand in his way; he was a force to be reckoned with from all angles.
A small itch tickled his nose, and Diluc crumpled into the elbow of his sleeve as a sneeze ravaged his throat, throwing his scarlet bangs into disarray.
“Feeling under the weather?”
The worst possible person to witness Diluc’s moment of weakness leered over from the table opposite the bar, one starry-sapphire eye twinkling with mirth.
Kaeya sat with his leg crossed, leather boot bouncing on his knee, as he lobbed his signature ominous smirk in Diluc’s direction. He was flanked by Venti and Rosaria, who both veered over with goblets in-hand and glassy stares. All of them had clearly made their way through a hefty amount of alcohol, although Rosaria had always managed to stupefy Diluc with her ability to stay level-headed even after emptying a bottle of Ragnvindr’s finest. They were the Mondstadt trio who held too much power in bodies with too-strong livers.
Diluc sent an unimpressed glare towards the table, which at least got Venti to make a small eeep before avoiding eye contact. Rosaria definitely couldn’t care less, swirling around her tonic as Kaeya’s grin grew in size. He had a sixth sense for vulnerability; it was his strong suit and Diluc’s pet peeve.
“I won’t humor you with a response.” Diluc shuffled around the bar, ignoring the pangs in his temple as he tried and failed to dry the same glass twice over.
“Hit the nail on the head, then.” Kaeya zeroed in, intent to kill. Or at least try and maim Diluc’s pride. “Does Master Diluc have a cold?”
Kaeya’s voice slithered down Diluc’s spine like a bead of ice water. He was never a fan of his name spoken in that tone, that nauseatingly sweet façade laced with malice. Kaeya’s voice had more depth than that, more baritone, but lately he never heard it. Ever since his return to Mondstadt, Kaeya had been a fickle and devious stranger.
Since before then, really.
“Master Diluc,” Rosaria’s cold voice broke the tension radiating between the tabletops with a long-exasperated sigh, “You work quite hard. Perhaps a rest is due.”
“Not everyone can laze around and come and go as they please, like you, Rosaria,” Venti hiccuped a laugh, coming back into focus at the table. “You’re quite lucky the Sisters have given up on trying to corral you back into Church events.”
Rosaria’s lip lifted a fraction into what Diluc could only call a show of emotion. Her stockings shimmered in the dim lighting of the bar, appearing as sheer and wiry as spider webs.
“They are wise not to keep me shackled where I do not wish to be.”
Both Venti and Kaeya shared a small chuckle, Venti more or less because no one valued the freedom of one’s wishes quite as much as himself, and Kaeya, because he sought freedom everywhere and took it by force when he could. Diluc knew that from personal experience.
“Ooh!” Venti exclaimed at an octave befitting his juvenile stature, as he clapped excitedly, “Cryo arm wrestling competition!”
Rosaria and Kaeya’s eyebrows raised in unison. Diluc, who knew better than to stare as it was improper, couldn’t help but notice. He bristled: or was it a shiver? Whatever it was, he felt irked by their synchronization.
Kaeya spoke first. “Huh?”
Venti rolled his eyes, as if the denseness of everyone around him who were not thousands of years old was exhausting, “Both of you, use your Cryo Visions in an arm-wrestling competition. Let’s see who can freeze the other’s arm off first.”
For someone so small and old, it was astounding how simplistic his ideas of entertainment were. Diluc rubbed his eyes and prepared for the migraine he felt forming. The pangs grew worse, as did the heat in his head. Perhaps no one would notice if he doused himself with some water from the faucet.
“Not in my bar.”
Rosaria looked intrigued by this new idea of a competition, to Diluc’s own demise. Her lips pursed, thinking, as she knocked the table in front of her.
“It seems sturdy enough. I don’t see why not.”
Kaeya shrugged, even though it was clear he was already vibrating with anticipation. Backing down from a challenge, no matter how stupid, was next to impossible for the Cavalry Captain. “Oho? Sister Rosaria, no need to worry, I have frostbite salve should you need it.”
Diluc shook blurriness from his vision as he wiped down the counter angrily.
“Are you all hard of hearing? Not in my bar.”
“On the count of three, then.” Venti clasped the two Cryo user’s fists together, Rosaria already having slid her sharp gauntlets off to reveal soft, almost delicate hands. Against the bronze, calloused hand of Kaeya, they looked picturesque, complimenting each other.
Diluc could feel a frenzy of fire stir in his stomach, and he fleetingly thought, Gods, I hope this is only heartburn.
“One…”
Kaeya flexed his grip on Rosaria, his bare wrist and forearm gleaming with vivid, glacial energy. He was already channeling his Vision. Other clients in the bar began pointing in acute interest.
“Two…”
Venti looked like he was about to fall off the edge of his seat when Rosaria’s arm began dripping in icicles, a beautiful cascade of frost heading straight towards Kaeya’s skin. A small crowd had formed; four or five people who realized that two of Mondstadt’s most famous Cryo users were going head-to-head in a subzero clash.
“Three…!”
“Achoo!”
At the same time both Kaeya and Rosaria were about to burst with built-up elemental power, an explosive sound came from behind the bar. The table of three startled and spun around, along with the rest of the patrons around the main floor.
Smoke plumed from where Diluc had been standing, his palms laid flat against the counter top, which was now sizzling. It had been blackened to near-charcoal.
Diluc sniffled, his eyes bleary from all of the dark fumes surrounding him, his nose itching with infuriating intensity.
He watched Kaeya’s body retract its ice like a spring blade; he backed away from Rosaria, almost as if something much more interesting had suddenly materialized out of thin air.
Diluc reached for a rag with his still-fuming palms and blew into it, black ash covering his face in streaks from where his fingers touched.
What the hell?
Kaeya stared at him with wide-eyed wonder, and if it weren’t for the fact Diluc was most likely looking back at him with the same expression, he would have found it hilarious.
Rosaria rearranged her customary icy appearance into a peculiar smile.
“Gesundheit?”