Archive of Our Own

What differentiated the Angel’s Share from your typical nightclub was probably that there wasn’t a whole lot of dancing going on. While the low hum of a base could be felt in the background, people seemed more keen on socialising, standing around chatting and laughing with other important looking people, driving home the idea that this was some kind of elite version of a night-out. Perhaps you should choose a drink that’d quickly enter your bloodstream after all.

With your beverage of choice in hand you made your way back to the booth your colleagues were occupying and,  at the beginning of the night, you had a blast getting to know them better, throwing jabs at people in the company and chiming in on their concerns. Throughout all of this, you tried ignoring the stares of a guy you saw in the corner of your eye, who was obnoxious enough to bother you even while you were purposefully looking away. As your group split up more and more over time though, he became progressively harder to dodge and eventually, you ran into him after all.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he drawled, a lazy grin painted on his face. Together with his overall sleazy appearance and demeanour, you barely resisted the urge to vomit over his tacky, patterned dress shirt. “What brings you here tonight?”

“I’m here with my friends,” you pressed out through gritted teeth. “Speaking of which, I should meet up with them again.”

Without giving him the chance to open his mouth again, you whirled around and power walked in the direction opposite of him. Was it a bit rude of you? Perhaps. But this guy was giving you all the wrong signals and you had recently started listening more to your gut feeling; more often than not, it did not steer you wrong. 

And this time was no different, as it turned out.

Despite all your best effort, after several failed attempts at striking up another conversation, there was one single moment your mind was not occupied with evading this creep and that was when you felt it. A hand groping your butt as you were on your own before you physically recoiled with a shocked gasp, slapping it away. And of course it was none other than the sleazeball that had been following you all evening. Seriously, this guy needed to get a life, pronto. 

“You’re quite hard to catch, aren’t you?” At his creepy laughter you merely pressed your lips into a tight line, revolted at the whole scene yet still too surprised to collect your thoughts. When there was no reaction from you, he leaned down, way into your personal space, and the strong scent of booze stung your nose. “Anyway, let’s skip the chase and get right to the point. Wanna head back to my place? You know I can show you a reeaaal good time if you do~”

Going straight into panic mode, the first sentence that slipped through your lips was– “I’m not into men!” A blatant lie but you’d say anything to get out of this situation.

But instead of deterring him, he only stepped closer to you, that ugly grimace of a smirk marring his face once more. “Oh c’mon, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you’ve actually gotten down with one.”

As his hands made grabbing motions for your hips, something in you switched and you saw red. That creep wanted a confrontation? Well, he should have it. Taking another step back, you cooly replied “Likewise.”

“W-What?” Apparently, that wasn’t the answer he had expected because he merely stared at you, dumbfounded; a look that suited him much better, in your opinion.

“I said,” you drew out the syllables of your words, “I’m sure you’d also be into men if you’d ever get frisky with one.”

Apparently, you had hit a sensitive nerve because from one moment to the next the guy flew off the handles, his face morphing into a hideous grimace and you could practically see his veins popping if he clenched his jaw more than he already did. Taking another step towards you, he didn’t shout as you’d have expected, but the tone in which he hissed was definitely meant to threaten you all the same. “What about me makes you think I’m gay, huh?”

It might have been the way he spit out the word gay as if it was an insult but no matter what, you felt not a single sliver of remorse for being rude all evening and now aimed to get rid of him for good. Checking for where to go, your eyes trailed a free path to the bar before landing on your assailant again.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you hummed, appearing to be deep in thought. “For starters, you seem to enjoy having that stick shoved so far up your ass.” 

With that, in his moment of sheer loss, you ducked away from him and between the bodies of other customers as you speed-walked over to the illuminated bar. Not giving much consideration to your surroundings, you hopped onto the first free stool at the far end from where your confrontation had happened.

When you’d calmed your racing heart enough, you noticed you’d plopped yourself down next to a tall, dark-skinned man, who was amusedly talking to an equally tall redhead, who was definitely less amused at their conversation. The latter wore a mostly black outfit with a fitted white vest on top, a golden star pinned to the left side of his chest, identifying him as a staff member of the club. Visibly glad for the interruption, the bartender stopped aggressively wiping down the counter and instead turned to you, his crimson ponytail swinging with the motion and his face still as stoic but obviously less annoyed.

“Anything I can get you?” 

Gripping the counter, you leaned slightly forward, trying not to shout your request through the whole club. “I was wondering if you happen to serve Angel Shots here?”

Immediately, the redhead’s face hardened and his piercing eyes narrowed slightly, definite recognition apparent in his expression. “We do, how would you like yours?”

“Actually, I wanted to order for a certain guy,” you said, fingers fiddling together. It was the first time you ever had to do this and you hoped to get your message across. Turning around you pointed him out, being as inconspicuous as possible. “He’s been pestering me about it all night.”

“Alright, one Angel Shot coming right up,” the bartender said, putting down his towel and rounding the bar instead of taking up a glass and relief flooded over you. Giving the man next to you a slap on the back that was perhaps firmer than needed, he added “Why don’t you make yourself useful for once and show our esteemed guest to a staff room and keep them company, if they’re okay with it, while I prepare the drink?”

The last part was directed at you and you nodded. Surely, if an employee of this renowned establishment trusted him with handling a customer, he couldn’t be just anybody. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice~” Swivelling on his bar stool, the blue-haired guy kicked out his long legs in graceful motions, flipping his long braid over his shoulder before holding up his hand for you to take. “Come on, let’s get you away from all this noise.”

You followed him past a door that was off-limits for all usual guests and none of the workforce there batted an eye at him. With the door shut behind you, the music was barely audible anymore and you could instead only hear your carpet-mufled steps and your own heartbeat. The stranger had let go of your hand again as he led you down a corridor and into a room that was clearly some kind of staff room.

“Make yourself at home,” he smiled at you, all pearly teeth and charisma. Even in a pair of classy black slacks and a silky black dress shirt, he looked almost unreal, silver accessories gleaming as he moved. Now that you weren’t perceiving him under the club lights, he seemed oddly familiar; but where could you have seen a man like him before? Certainly, you’d remember, right? “Do you need anything? Water maybe?”

“Water would be great, yeah,” you agreed before sinking into a cushioned chair. Honestly, if someone could afford lounge chairs this comfortable for their workers, the company would have to make bank.

“Here you go. Try to just calm down a little, Diluc’s got the guy handled,” he assured you as he handed you a glass, which clinked against the rings on his fingers, and plopped down on the couch to your left, kicking up his feet and stretching out on its entire length. Even doing something so casual, he moved with a smooth elegance that had you mesmerised. “My brother’s got a knack for throwing out rowdy customers.”

You perked up for several reasons; the name Diluc rang a bell but what you asked instead was “Your brother?”

“I know, I know. Uncanny resemblance,” the handsome stranger laughed, his eyes forming little crescents. “Well, not by blood but we are legally brothers.”

As your gaze flickered over his figure draped over the length of the sofa, something in your mind stirred and puzzle pieces clicked together. Before your mind’s eye, shards of twinkling periwinkle eyes, colourful fabrics and peacock feathers fell together to reveal–

“YOU’RE KAEYA ALBERICH!” You jumped out of your seat at the realisation, startling the poor man across from you. 

“Looks like I can save myself the self introduction,” Kaeya shrugged, an amused grin back to decorate his handsome face. “Now, if you’d do me the honour of also giving me your name, that’d be greatly appreciated. With less shouting this time around, perhaps.”

Stammering out your name as you settled back down, you tried wrapping your brain around the fact that you just met the Kaeya Alberich, one of the most famous models at the time, easily making it onto the covers of all of the most sought-after fashion magazines and smiling down onto passerbys from big ad screens all over the city. 

His rather simple attire on this night was a stark contrast to the extravagance of his last shoot where he was draped in silks and jewels of various shades of blue, his make-up done to resemble the peacocks he was posing with. Yet, there was no mistaking the air of confidence surrounding him as he lounged on the couch, his posture so similar to the magazine cover. You almost wanted to kick yourself for not recognising him sooner; of course someone as ridiculously beautiful as this man would be a world-class model!

But it felt like one more piece of information was left to be connected. It was at the back of your head, just outside your reach, yet so close to the surface. In an interview you listened to with half an ear, Kaeya once was asked about his family and he mentioned that his brother–

“Your brother Diluc is the owner of Angel’s Share,” you mumbled more to yourself but the model still heard you. 

“Right on the money again,” he mused, twirling a coin between his slender fingers. “You really know your stuff, are you perhaps a fan of mine? What a lucky coincidence, huh?”

At his teasing tone, your brain jumbled all sensible answers out of its metaphorical windows. Seriously though, what did you do when an attractive model sat in front of you, seemingly enjoying twisting your words around?

Once more, Diluc should be your saviour in a time of need as he opened the door to the staff room with determination, stoic face relaxing just a teeny tiny bit as his fiery red gaze landed on you. Adjusting his black gloves, your eyes followed the flexing of his muscles under his uniform as he stepped completely into the room. 

“That guy has been taken care of,” he confirmed, before holding out his hand to shake yours. “Perhaps, I should introduce myself. My name is Diluc Ragnvindr and I own the Angel’s Share. Would you mind recounting what exactly went down? As the owner, I’m of course interested in preventing any future cases of my customers feeling uncomfortable. If you can’t, however, I do understand.”

Having made the connection already, the statement didn’t faze you as much as it would’ve five minutes ago and you could focus on giving a quick rundown of your night, both men listening intently with Kaeya scoffing in apparent disgust with that creep’s behaviour.

“What a pathetic loser,” he concluded your story, irises sparkling like frigid ice. More genuinely, he turned to you. “I’m sorry you had to go through that but you did well handling the situation.”

“I agree with Kaeya, for once,” Diluc nodded. “It was good you went to tell someone working here. And thank you for sharing this with us. Now then, you must be exhausted from all of this; would you like me to call you a cab home?”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” you smiled, tiredness crashing over you now that the situation had been handled. You’d probably still indulge in some self-care and a phone call with your best friend once you’d get home though.

“Sure.” Pulling his phone from his vest pocket, Diluc made a quick call before hanging up. “A driver’s going to be here shortly. I’d like to make up for your negative experience in my establishment by covering your commuting costs and giving you this. If you show it to the security outside -if you choose to honour us with your patronage again- they will show you inside immediately and you’ll enjoy VIP-status. Again, my sincerest apologies.”

Turning the sleek, black card he had handed you over between your fingers, you noted the lineart of an owl engraved in red on the backside, the front displaying the name of the club as well as what you supposed was Diluc’s signature.

“My, you don’t hand these out to just anybody; not even your own brother,” Kaeya whistled as he peeked at the card, before giving you a cheeky wink. “But, I can’t blame him. I’d also like to see you again. Perhaps we can continue our chat when we run into each other next time, sound good?”

As you stepped out into the crisp night air, you couldn’t quite remember what answer you stuttered out when you were faced with his charming smile once more, your thoughts racing past just like the city lights on your way home. But instead of a multitude of colours, the ones before your mind’s eye were a rustle of icy blue and fiery crimson as your fingers grazed over the edges of the card slowly warming between your palms.

Perhaps, giving the Angel’s Share a second shot wouldn’t be so bad…