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Ever since Angel’s Share implemented a dinner menu it’s become more and more of a staple in Mondstadt. Sometimes it feels like the entire city is shoved into the single little tavern. It’s still just you serving up all the dishes, Diluc making the drinks, and sometimes Venti (and the Traveler if they have time) bussing tables and cleaning up the messes. But most of the time, it’s just you and Diluc, two people doing jobs meant for a whole team.
It had been a rough week with a lot of scrimping and saving, a lot of snacks in place of meals. A lot of going to bed hungry. You had hoped you could snag something energizing and filling from the kitchen before your shift, but the tavern was slammed right away as usual. You were busy enough that you could easily ignore the aching and twisting in your gut as you brought out plate after plate, whisked away leftovers and washed away crumbs. But as one AM quickly approaches and all the guests begin to leave, the adrenaline slowly wears off and you begin to get dizzy.
A groan from your stomach echoes throughout the empty tavern, somehow you can still smell the food lingering in the air even though the kitchen has stopped cooking. You drop your washrag mid-wipe and slowly wrap your arms around your waist, head bowed as you try to breathe through a dizzy spell. Your legs feel weak, and you shiver, even though it’s overwhelmingly hot in the tavern. It’s been a few days since you’ve eaten a truly filling meal, and the cheap snacks you munched on for breakfast and lunch are far from enough. You feel so hungry, but the kitchen is closed, and Diluc is locking up, and for some reason that thought alone makes you want to cry.
You were really hoping for something warm and heavy, you were looking forward to not having to worry about whether or not you could eat a good meal. And it’s something so simple and stupid, but the denial of such a pleasure makes you feel so drained and so defeated.
Diluc returns from locking up, and he places something on the table you were washing. It smells so good, and you can’t help but open your watery eyes. It’s a meaty, cheesy steak, roasted to perfection, two plates beside each other. Thick and heavy, with a few red potatoes on the side. Diluc’s hand falls on your shoulder, and you look to him to find the same exhausted look on his face. He doesn’t seem nearly as teary-eyed as you (in fact, he looks more annoyed and irritated, but he often does during shifts like this), but you’d be deaf to miss the low rumbles coming from his own stomach. He sits on one of the chairs, nodding down at the chair beside him. Wordlessly, you sit, turning towards the meal.
It smells so good you almost want to cry harder.
Diluc removes his hand from your shoulder, and the two of you dig in. It’s a little mortifying, acting so ravenous in front of your boss, but it’s not like he’s pretending to not be famished, either. It’s a more human side of the stoic and serious man you work with, a gentle reminder that even the uncrowned king of Mondstadt is made of flesh and blood, and has a stomach that needs to be filled every few hours.
It takes mere minutes for the two of you to clean your plates, and you immediately feel better once you do. The overwhelming urge to cry has dissipated completely, so has the dizziness and weakness and even the cold. The meat sits comfortably in your belly, warming you up from the inside out so satisfyingly you let out a sigh. Beside you, Diluc lets out a similar sound, leaning back in his chair with a hand on his stomach. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be focusing on the sensation of a good, hearty meal sitting in his stomach.
You wince a little, and avert your gaze elsewhere. Diluc was stronger, a bit bigger than you, there was no doubt he had a larger appetite as well. You’d thought he was just a grump during work hours, but perhaps…there was more to the story.
“Come half an hour earlier next time.” He mutters, sitting up slowly and collecting the plates. He still sounds a bit annoyed, but you cut him some slack. He’s had as rough an evening as you, no doubt. “I’ll make dinner before the rush. Can’t have both of us out of commission on a day Venti works his shift.”
You snort out a small laugh, too tired to respond else. Diluc’s steps recede as he walks back to the (unlocked?) kitchen to clean up the mess, and you smile at the wood in the still-unwashed table. There’s a small smile on your face, and you feel warmed even further. You place a hand on your stomach as well, stifling a hiccup.
He cooked it himself…