The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light through the windows of the mechanic shop where Diluc worked. The air was thick with the scent of engine oil and metal, a place of comfort for him, but a worry for you. As you pushed open the door, the familiar sound of tools clinking and machines humming greeted you. There he was, bent over a motorcycle, his broad back turned to you, the sight of him always a mix of pride and concern.

“Hey, I brought lunch,” you called, setting the brown paper bag on the counter.

Diluc straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before turning toward you with a small smile. His red hair was tied back, but a few rebellious strands framed his face, and the faint trace of smoke lingered in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you approached him. “Seriously, Diluc, smoking while you work again? You know it's bad for you.”

He chuckled, a soft sound that never failed to make your heart flutter. “I’m careful. Besides, it’s not as often as you think.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. “Careful or not, it still worries me. I need you healthy, you know?”

Diluc wiped the grease from his fingers and reached out to take your hand, his touch warm and familiar. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles, his eyes soft as they met yours. “I like it when you worry about me. But I promise, I’m fine. I’ve been doing this for years.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll stop reminding you,” you teased, leaning into him.

He smirked, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart against yours melted any lingering concern. He might be stubborn, but the way he held you told you how much he appreciated your care, even if he’d never say it outright.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in the comfort of each other, the hum of the shop faded into the background.