#bartender diluc

The warm glow of Angel’s Share flickered against polished oak and glinting glass, the air thick with the scent of aged wine and subtle spices. It was a quiet evening—rare for Mondstadt’s favorite tavern—save for the usual murmurs of patrons enjoying their drinks. Behind the bar, Diluc worked with practiced efficiency, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Lumine sat at the counter, chin propped on her palm, eyes twinkling with mischief. Beside her, Kaeya swirled his wine lazily, smirking.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Traveler,” Kaeya mused, his tone laced with amusement. “Thinking of your next grand adventure, or are you just enjoying the view?” His gaze flickered toward Diluc meaningfully.

Lumine scoffed. “I’m not that easily distracted.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya leaned in, his smirk widening. “Then, how about a little wager? I bet you can’t make dear Diluc smile before the night is over.”

Lumine straightened. “That’s it? Just a smile?”

Kaeya chuckled. “I’d say it’s harder than facing a Ruin Guard unarmed.”

She tilted her head, sizing up the red-haired bartender. Diluc hadn’t so much as acknowledged their conversation, save for the occasional flick of his eyes toward them. He was always like this—stoic, distant, as if the world outside his tavern mattered little.

But she had seen glimpses of something softer in him, beneath the weight of old wounds and responsibility. A smile? That was a challenge she was more than willing to take on.

Lumine tapped a finger against her lips. “Alright. You’re on.”

Kaeya grinned and leaned back. “This will be fun.”

Lumine started small—little quips, innocent remarks thrown his way as he poured drinks for patrons.

“Do you ever get tired of looking so serious?” she mused, watching as he wiped down a glass with meticulous care.

Diluc didn’t glance up. “I prefer efficiency over idle chatter.”

“Ah, but isn’t a good bartender supposed to entertain their guests?”

“I serve drinks, not performances.”

Kaeya chuckled into his glass, and Lumine huffed. Fine. Subtlety wasn’t the way to go.

She tried more direct means. Stealing his rag to mess with him. Dramatically sighing about how the tavern lacked a welcoming atmosphere. Even outright complimenting him—“You know, Diluc, you have very nice eyes when you’re not glaring at people.”

That one made his hands pause briefly before he resumed his work. Progress, but still no smile.

The night wore on, and the patrons began to dwindle, leaving only a handful of stragglers. Kaeya had long since settled into amused observation, watching as Lumine leaned over the bar, resting on her elbows.

“You know,” she drawled, “I think you’re afraid to smile.”

Diluc finally looked up, one brow arched. “Afraid?”

“Mhm. You act like it’s a weakness.”

“It’s unnecessary.”

Lumine tapped a finger against the wooden counter. “I think it’s because if you do smile, people will see that you’re not just Mondstadt’s brooding hero, but an actual human being. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”

For a second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh, he returned to polishing a glass.

Lumine exhaled, resting her chin in her palm. “Alright, fine. I give up. You win.”

Kaeya chuckled. “You fought bravely.”

But before Lumine could wallow in defeat, a sound—soft, almost imperceptible—broke through the quiet hum of the tavern.

A breath of laughter.

Not loud, not mocking. Just a quiet huff of amusement, paired with the tiniest, fleeting upward curve of his lips.

Lumine froze.

Kaeya’s eyes widened slightly, but he hid his surprise well. “Well, well,” he mused, swirling his wine. “Would you look at that?”

Diluc—calm, composed, and unreadable Diluc—had smiled.

Lumine swallowed. The satisfaction of winning the bet should have been her first thought, but strangely, it wasn’t.

Because now, looking at him, she realized something.

She hadn’t been teasing him just for the sake of the game.