The tavern was louder than usual tonight. A few of the knights, some familiar faces from Mondstadt, and the inevitable troublemakers had all gathered for a casual winter get-together. Nothing formal. Just drinks, laughter, and a little too much noise for Diluc’s usual taste.

He tolerated it, though. Maybe even enjoyed it, in his own quiet way.

The decorations had been slapped up last minute — a few festive wreaths, strings of lights... Not that Diluc didn't care about the holiday atmosphere, but... He wasn't great at it.

You weren’t paying attention to it. Not really. You were busy carrying a tray back toward the bar, laughing at something Kaeya had said, when you turned a corner and nearly collided straight into Diluc.

He caught your arms instinctively, steadying you, and for a second, it was just the two of you; close, way too close.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The sounds of the tavern blurred into the background — chatter, laughter, the low hum of conversation — but it all felt strangely distant. Like you were standing in a bubble, tucked away from the rest of the room.

You blinked, confused, glancing up. And there it was. Right above your heads, a sad little bundle of mistletoe swinging slightly from the rafters.

You opened your mouth, not even sure what you were going to say. Some awkward joke, probably. You felt the heat crawl up your neck immediately. When you looked back at Diluc, he was somehow managing to keep a straight face. Almost.

If you looked closer, though, you could see it — the slight stiffness in his posture, the way his hand flexed at his side like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. The way the tips of his ears, just barely peeking through his hair, were turning a very telling shade of red.

He didn’t move away. Didn’t look up at the mistletoe like he was surprised, either. He just stood there, watching you, as if waiting to see what you would do.

A second stretched out, long and awkward, and then — because really, what else could you do? — you rose up on your toes and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his cheek.

Diluc’s expression didn’t change immediately, but when you stepped back, you caught it: a rare, fleeting crack in his carefully composed mask.

He cleared his throat, low and quiet, and — with all the dignity in the world — turned back toward the bar like nothing had happened.

You could still see the faint, stubborn red climbing the back of his neck as he walked away.