Chapter Text
Social functions are not a new experience for Espresso, far from it. He’s had his fair share of attending up-scale events while living in the Republic where he’s made to be the guest of honour.
Diligence and resilience--Espresso prides himself for all his earned achievements. Years of hard work and sleepless nights have made him into the renowned Coffee Mage of today, he is one of a kind, first of his kind--and so it’s only natural for everyone to want in on a shiny new toy.
For a time there was an endless stream of invitations, mostly when he first début into the academic world. He plays his part, perhaps even indulging in the spotlight at times. Espresso believes he deserves it after all he’s gone through, but that isn’t to say he doesn’t find these functions exhausting.
Those long evenings spent mingling with the upper echelon as they ask the same questions he’s heard countless times before, gracing the willingly ignorant with an amicable façade as to not stir up tension, sampling on food far too rich for his palette and giving into the social pressure of downing glass after glass of redberry juice.
All that time lost when he could’ve used it to perfect a new blend.
It’s only when Espresso moved to Kingdom was he able to find some semblance of peace. He is still required to travel when a conference is being held, but at least he’s no longer obligated to attend any grand party that’s held in too far lands.
(He has no qualms admitting he doesn’t miss any of it. All that time is much better off spent on his work.)
“Espresso.”
Espresso turns to where the voice came. His veil sways gently as he lifts his head up to see Madeleine. The blond is standing a respectable distance from him, in his hands are two glasses of what appears to be redberry juice. He smiles at Espresso, seemingly apologetic.
“There was a selection of refreshments at the table, but I wasn’t sure which one you’d prefer.” He extends a glass to Espresso, who gingerly takes the stem and gives Madeleine a polite nod in thanks.
“I remember you having no objections to redberry juice back at Sparkling’s bar, so that’s what I picked. I hope you don’t mind.”
Espresso lets out an audible sigh as he recalls a distant memory. “This is fine.”
He looks down at his drinking cup, the liquid swirls a glimmering ruby red under the bright chandelier light.
“And for the record, I could never turn Sparkling down when he was always so insistent that I try his newest bottle every time I came over.”
Espresso is not fond of alcohol, but the tartness of the redberry juice makes it bearable for his taste buds. What with his developed oral fixation of having a cup pressed to his lips once every few minutes, he may accidentally drink himself into a drunken stupor if he isn’t careful.
Madeleine has found his place standing next to Espresso, the distance between them feels too far despite being only a few foot apart.
Espresso chances a glance at Madeleine, and he thinks how the blond looks nothing of that very same bumbling cookie lounging at Sparkling’s bar after a hard day of labour. Where he’d lean against the counter on his elbows with a large lager in hand, and a circle of attentive cookies gathered around him, all eager for yet another tale of his knightly journey.
It’s almost odd seeing Madeleine stand at attention like this, back straight and his head held high, those piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. The way Madeleine has carried himself through the evening feels so different from his more carefree self back in Kingdom, it makes Espresso nearly forget he’s the Knight Commander of the Republic.
“How is he, by the way?”
Madeleine’s voice brings Espresso attention back. He turns to meet with the other’s polite smile.
“Sparkling, I mean.”
“He’s been well.” Espresso says. “With more cookies moving to the Kingdom, he’s been getting more patrons. The bar is livelier than ever nowadays.”
Madeleine hums in acknowledgement, his eyes glancing down at his own glass. “I wish I could have seen that, I would’ve loved to meet the new residents too.”
Espresso purses his lips and averts his gaze to the marble floor, the grip on his wine glass tightens as does his chest.
Madeleine has already given him an explanation as to why he left--a completely valid and reasonable explanation in which he was placed in a position out of his control.
Yet Espresso cannot help but feel a tinge of bitterness at Madeleine’s offhanded comment of missing Kingdom.
“...I’ve been meaning to ask,” Madeleine begins.
Normally, Espresso would chide Madeleine for interrupting his train of thought, but this time it is welcomed. He’d rather not spiral into another broody mood for the rest of the evening.
“What is it?” He gives Madeleine a vague nod to continue, as he brings up his glass for another sip.
“Do you not feel stuffy underneath all that?”
Espresso somehow manages not to choke on his drink.
“Madeleine--”
Espresso whips his head to give Madeleine a scandalized look.
Madeleine has the audacity to look sheepish, but he’s aware of how his question sounded if his defensive wave of a hand was anything to go by. He clears his throat and tries again, a wryly smile stretching across his reddening face.
“I mean to say, I’ve been seeing most attendees here dressed in lighter fabric. The noble ladies’ dress collar are quite low as well.” He says. “I am no expert in fashion but your gown looks quite heavy, and the capelet is covered in embroidery. I would think you don’t have good air circulation right now.”
The gown is indeed heavy. The fabric of choice is what gives the gown its structured form and sharp silhouette, the intricate embroidery on his shoulders and back adds even more weight. Espresso felt its significant heftiness upon wearing it the first time, but he’s grown used to it the longer time goes on.
Only now that Madeleine mentions it that he’s starting to feel weary. Not that he’s going to admit it.
“It doesn’t bother me in the least, besides I am not fond of the cold.” He responds dourly with a shrug.
Madeleine nods, and he finds himself prattling. “Fair enough! I remember how you’d refuse to leave the tower’s warmth during winter months back home in Kingdom.”
Once again, the mention of their time together has Espresso’s chest feel tight. But Madeleine doesn’t stop.
“Do you recall how stubborn you were about bundling up? You’d insist on spending the nights at the tower solely because you didn’t want to walk through the cold wind, even after I brought you an extra cloak!”
Espresso grits his teeth at the memory-- a painfully fond memory that he has replayed in his mind for the past few months.
“I had to be the one to bring you your meals, knowing you would be far too engrossed with your research to think of your own hunger. Then again, I always did that for you during warmer seasons so I saw nothing different of it.” Madeleine chuckles heartily, throwing his head back slightly.
Espresso does not respond to his playful reminiscent. There is silence between them in the midst of lively chatter and instrumental music, Madeleine’s face morphs into one of worry as he tries to peer through the veil.
“Espresso?”
This was exactly what Espresso had feared, the lingering tension between them from when they bumped into each other have yet to dissipate, and it won’t simply disappear until they actually talk.
He suppresses the urge to sigh. “Have you seen Latte at all in the main ballroom area?”
Madeleine blinks at the sudden change of topic, but responds right away. “Almond snatched her away the first chance he could.”
Figures.
“I see, somehow I’m not surprised.” Espresso shrugs lightly and takes another small sip of his sweet wine.
He hasn’t a clue where those two went off to. He hasn’t seen Almond after the brief eye contact they made from afar. But knowing the detective, he’s likely have gone into hiding in one of the private rooms to avoid the crowd after they’ve greeted all their guests.
“They’ve likely gone to recuperate.”
He grimaces at the thought of Latte overexerting herself to entertain the guests. He wouldn’t be surprised if Almond manages to see through her cheery mask and coaxed Latte into resting before nearing the end of the party.
Madeleine nods thoughtfully. “Then I suppose it’s just us.”
Espresso blinks and slowly turns to him.
“Don’t you have important guests to tend to?”
The blond smiles and shakes his head. “No, they’re all here for Latte and Almond. I came purely out of obligations as a friend. While many of these invited guests recognize me, they all flock over to the future bride and groom after we’ve exchanged greetings. I’m just glad the ministry banned the paparazzi from entering the premises.”
And then, he looks over to Espresso, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I did say I will try to make it up to you this evening, didn’t I? You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”
That cheeky little--
Espresso promptly turns back to staring at the centre ballroom with a huff, ignoring Madeleine’s chuckle as he downs the rest of his glass in one go.
They stand against the pillar together, watching as guests in the ballroom pair up to dance. Espresso pays close attention to the way their feet move against the marble floor, and he wonders how some of the cookies don’t trip on their feet while twisting and turning in high heels.
The silence between them is surprisingly comfortable this time, despite the awkwardness from earlier. But Espresso believes that’s also thanks to the small scale orchestra playing a slow score.
Madeleine is looking into the distance, where he spots Latte and Almond coming through the doorway arm in arm.
“Seems the to-be Mr and Mrs have returned.” Madeleine says offhandedly. “Latte looks positively jubilant tonight, something about her is different than usual. Is this what they call a bridal glow?”
Espresso doesn’t know what a ‘bridal glow’ is, but he indulges Madeleine with a sluggish nod anyway. A server weaves past him and he’s quick enough to place his empty glass onto the tray.
Espresso’s only had four glasses of redberry juice so far tonight, and though he’d like to think he’s able to hold his liquor, he can already feel the obvious signs of light-headedness creeping up on him.
He was adjusting his lopsided veil when Madeleine posed the question if he’d like to join him in a dance.
“I don’t know how to dance.” Espresso says.
“Do you want to?” Madeleine tries again, undeterred.
“No.”
Madeleine raises an eyebrow and hums thoughtfully.
“Do you want to try?”
Espresso once again finds himself faced with Madeleine’s outstretched hand the second time that night.
He may have agreed to give Madeleine a chance to make it up to him, but he is still hesitant as he gingerly takes Madeleine’s hand. He misses, holding onto the knight’s fingers instead, and Madeleine has the audacity to chuckle in amusement as he curls his fingers around Espresso’s bare hand.
He pulls Espresso closer, in which he staggers a bit but regains his balance immediately afterwards.
You’ve only had four glasses of wine, pull yourself together.
Madeleine must have noticed his sluggish movements, and his smile falters, a look of worry marring his handsome face.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I think I just had too much to drink.” Espresso shuts his eyes for a moment to rid himself of the vertigo. He’s gone beyond caring that he easily admits this to Madeleine.
“Are you sure you want to dance with a drunk? What if I vomit on your shoes?” He’s exaggerating of course, perhaps it’s to back out while he still has the chance.
“I wouldn’t mind, accidents happen. But I know I really do want to share a dance with you tonight.” Madeleine smiles so tenderly at him that it actually reached his eyes. “Shall we?”
Espresso nods.
Madeleine goes to put a hand on the other’s waist and takes Espresso’s left hand in his, his grip is soft and reassuring; while Espresso places his hand on Madeleine’s shoulder, right over the golden epaulette.
Everyone else around them dances in sync, spinning and twirling and revelling in their high. But Espresso and Madeleine move much slower, as though time has melted into a honeyed stream while they are stuck in their own world.
They move around at the edge of the dance floor, swaying along with the rhythm of the music. The orchestra begins playing a new score, something livelier with the violins, a change in its tempo. The dancing crowd moves faster, but Espresso and Madeleine are still going about it in their own leisurely pace.
“Congratulations by the way. I heard from Almond that you’re opening up a new institute in Kingdom.” Madeleine says, his words sounded clear despite the loud instrumental music in the background. “Is it true that it’ll be funded by the Kingdom?”
Espresso realizes that Madeleine had leaned in a bit closer to whisper into his ear, his upper body pressing lightly against his own.
“Yes, that’s what they told me.” He answers, voice even despite their close proximity.
He nearly shivers when Madeleine chuckles against the shell of his ear.
“That’s wonderful. Yet another achievement by the esteemed Coffee Mage.”
The alcohol in Espresso’s system is starting to get the better of him, he doesn’t realize it yet, but his body is subconsciously craving for more of Madeleine’s warmth, more of those familiar physical touches.
Espresso doesn’t know how to reply, or if he should with how tongue tied he feels himself becoming.
He digs his fingers into Madeleine’s shoulder.
For a moment, they simply bask in their light footed dance with only the melodic violins and piping flutes to carry the conversation. With Espresso’s mind clouded by redberry haze and Madeleine’s presence so close to him, the whole experience feels almost euphoric.
They barely avoided a couple as they both spun around, and that’s when Madeleine pulls him down into a dip--deep and well practised. Espresso wonders if waltzing is a hidden talent of his.
Espresso looks up, eyes catching Madeleine’s vivid blue ones. His golden sidebangs are long enough to cover both their faces from the other dancers as they take a moment to stare into each other’s eyes.
He pulls Espresso up abruptly, and vertigo sets in immediately for the mage as he stumbles to stay upright. Espresso inevitable loses his balance, tripping over his feet and finds himself falling face first into Madeleine’s chest. The assorted medals decorated across Madeleine’s sash and coat did nothing to make his descent any more pleasant than the pain on his face.
Madeleine gasps, and the hand around Espresso’s waist tighten instinctively.
“Oh no, my apologies! Are you alright?”
Espresso releases the other’s hand to touch his own nose.
“I’m fine, no need to fret. Just had… a little stumble.”
Madeleine gives him an apologetic smile.
“I forgot you had too much to drink, perhaps that wasn’t the right move on my part.”
As he’s about to pull away, Espresso grabs his hand again, resuming their position.
“It’s fine, you’re fine.”
Seems it’s not just his feet stumbling about any more, even his lips have become loose.
Instead of standing back upright, Espresso continues to rest his cheek against Madeleine’s chest.
Espresso curses at his choice of footwear for the evening, he should have worn flats instead of his laced up boots knowing the gown would cover his feet anyways. Then again, he never would’ve thought he’d end up dancing drunk with someone he believed to never return again.
Madeleine lets out an amused little laugh, the tremor in his chest rumbling against Espresso’s ears, and that’s when he realizes he had said that all out loud.
“I’m not opposed to this.” Madeleine says, voice soft. “If you don’t mind it of course, we can simply stay the way we are until the music stops.”
His arms snake around Espresso’s waist and they settle comfortably on on his lower back.
They continue to dance completely off beat with the music.
Their dance is no longer a waltz, but resembles more of two people swaying together--careless of their worries and indifferent to the world.
The sound of music is drowned out by Espresso’s thoughts like the crashing waves back in Kingdom’s shores during the rainy seasons. There is no more melodious violins, the mellow yet lyrical flutes disappeared along with the lavishing environment of the ballroom.
Suddenly Espresso finds himself in a past memory. One where he is in Madeleine’s cookie house.
It was the night one week before Madeleine left.
They had finished a hearty dinner of jellysteak and roasted vegetables from Carrot Cookie’s farm. The dining room table has been recently cleared, and music playing from an old record fills his ears.
Espresso cannot quite pinpoint the exact conversation they had, but it was one comment or another from Madeleine about how the mage had been working too hard, that he should relax and loosen up, that Madeleine was more than willing to help him do so--led them to dancing together in Madeleine’s living room.
Madeleine had twirled him around, albeit clumsily, and Espresso had laughed light heartedly at his failed attempts. He remembers how warm Madeleine was, how the homely atmosphere helped to melt all the burden that’s been piling up on Espresso’s shoulders right off, even if for a moment.
The fondness on Madeleine’s face that night haunts him.
The concept of home defers between individuals. They say home is where the heart is, a roof under your head, shelter from wind and rain; it’s not a place but what you make of it, anywhere is home if you will it so.
For Espresso, he never quite found home.
Having fled the fallen Dark Cacao Kingdom at a young age, Espresso does not recall a time where he could call the various foster homes that he lived in a home. He supposes the closest he would consider his home is the slovenly little orphanage in the Republic, where he met Latte Cookie.
When he was of age and out of foster care, home was never something he yearned for. Far too occupied with his studies and research, Espresso hardly even bothers to sleep in his bedroom.
He isn’t alone, but he is undeniably lonely. Pride refuses to let him admit it, even to himself.
For Espresso, home was with Madeleine.
“ Espresso? ”
Someone was calling out to him.
The sound of their past dancing selves laughing faded away, replaced with the professional conduct of violins and cellos. Slowly, the smell of perfume and sweet wine wafts pass Espresso’s nose.
“Espresso?”
It was Madeleine’s voice, quiet and concerned.
A look of worry mar his handsome face as he looks down to Espresso, his eyebrows knitted slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin downward curve. Had Espresso stepped on his foot?
The mage separates himself from Madeleine, looking to the side while keeping the other at arm’s length, all the while still holding onto his forearms.
“I think... I’ve had too much to drink tonight.” Espresso manages shakily. His fingers dig into Madeleine’s sleeves to anchor himself from a sudden hypothetical fainting spell.
“You already said that.” Madeleine points out.
“I did.” Espresso nods numbly. “I did.”
“Would you like to sit down?”
Espresso looks down to his feet, he can start to feel his soles and toes swelling in pain from standing all evening. The less-than-coordinated dancing has definitely worn him down as well. He nods in resignation.
“That would be a good idea.”
He shows no resistance to accepting Madeleine’s offered arm this time, and as Madeleine escorts him to the doorway and away from the crowd, Espresso
"Be truthful, how do you feel? Your face has taken a reddish hue. That can't be good." His hold around Espresso’s arm grows tighter, but not suffocatingly so.
Espresso sighs quietly; regretfully, there is no way he will be able to be truthful about this.
Being dotted on like this shouldn’t make him feel this warm and content. It’s not the first time Madeleine’s tried smothering him with attention, but it’s a welcoming feeling all the same.
“I think I’m just tired, that’s all. this evening has been.. cumbersome”. He subconsciously leans into Madeleine’s touch.
Madeleine’s expression softens, his voice following suit. "We could retire to one of the private rooms, the ones upstairs has a balcony. Some fresh air will do you some good."
He hesitantly places a hand over Espresso’s own, if only to pull him away from the crowd and closer to him. "Come, I wouldn't want to see you pass out from exhaustion."
Espresso pushes away the immediate thought of them being alone in a private room; what he said to Madeleine was partly true at least, he was getting quite tired. tired of being so flustered and so worked up over all of this.
“That would be greatly appreciated, yes.”
Espresso allows Madeleine to lead him away, basking in the attention that the knight had once given him all too easily. He thinks he sees Latte wink at them, but he can’t be certain.
Madeleine’s restrained chortle promptly brings his attention back at hand, the knight looks as exasperated as he sounds.
“You... I try so hard to distract myself from yearning for your company. But the moment you show a more vulnerable side to me, I become completely and utterly defeated. Please forgive me Great Divine, I am not your strongest knight.”
The confession had came out of nowhere, and it was so heavily laced with frustration to boot.
Espresso isn’t sure if he should respond to that, or if he’s able to, with how dry his mouth suddenly feels.
Madeleine is quite wrong if he believes he’s the only one here suffering. If this whole evening hasn’t been designed to test Espresso’s own resistance to doing something he’d come to regret, then that fool’s confession nearly snapped something burning hot inside of him.
But it’s alright, Espresso tells himself. Just blame everything that happens tonight on the alcohol.
End of Chapter 4