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“Anyone sitting here?”
Ignis glared across the table at the man who had decided the seat was empty without waiting for a confirmation from him. “Would you leave if I say yes,” he asked testily, locking eyes with the stranger from above his glasses.
“Heh, and they couldn’t have been bothered to sit their ass down for the past ten minutes or so? Tablespace seems awfully clear for a hypothetical person who obviously isn’t sitting here don’t you think?” Ignis shoved his glasses further up his face as the man placed his cup on the table and pulled out a worn leather bound book from his pocket. (He was surprised that the man had managed to fit the book in his pocket to begin with.) “Anyway, the name’s Gladio nice to meet you-” The stranger squinted at the cup in front of him and then widened when he read its contents. “-Ignis. A blood latte with double espresso shots? I didn’t think you’d need any extra help staying up given you’re a vampire.”
“Maybe I like the taste,” he all but snarled in the man’s face as he took a sip of his drink. “Mmm, delicious.” Ignis set the paper cup on the table just a bit harder than usual.
Gladio snorted. “Sure, you like it for the taste. I weep for your taste buds.” He then flipped the book open to a dog eared page and began to read, a clear signal that he considered the conversation over.
“Excuse you, I’ll have you know my taste buds are in perfectly fine order.” Ignis didn’t even get a grunt in response. The nerve of the man to decide when the conversation was over just like that. He took a twitchy sip of his latte and pretended there wasn’t someone across from him for the rest of the time he was there.
…
The second time Gladio decided to sit across from him, Ignis began to wonder if this wasn’t the start of a pattern. (A very annoying pattern.) “Okay, but how do blood lattes even work? Does blood taste good warm? Are you getting the nutrients you need? And why the milk and espresso shots?” The book in front of him was opened to another dog marked page, and he was beginning to wonder just how many were in the book or if Gladio was reading the same passage over and over again, but Gladio was staring right at him instead of at the book.
Ignis shoved his glasses up his face with one finger. “Some vampires appreciate the finer things in life. The milk, for example, adds a wonderful creamy texture to the blood, which, I assure you, is cold and not heated. Also, who’s to say that vampires don’t need the nutrients in the milk?”
“I notice you’re missing one thing though.” Gladio stared at him as if he was an idiot or he had bad news to give about his mother.
“And what was that?”
“Why the espresso?”
He scowled and folded his arms across his chest. “Because I like the taste.”
It was clear from Gladio’s expression that he didn’t believe Ignis. That couldn’t have prepared Ignis for Gladio suddenly snatching his drink and taking a sip from it. He watched as Gladio’s face scrunched up at the taste and the man spat out the mouthful he had sipped. “Tastes like shit.” Ignis twitched at the pronouncement. “I think turning into a vampire must have changed your taste buds.”
He looked in disgust at the small bloody mess on the ground. (At least it was on the ground and not the table, although it would be satisfying to see the man make a mess of the book he had brought with him.) “I assure you, besides making blood more palatable, although I do wonder what you would have to gain by drinking a mouth full of blood, my taste has not changed.”
Gladio shrugged. “So, your taste is just shit then. I gotcha. ‘Sides I thought it’d be like swallowing down a mouthful of blood, unpleasant but doable.”
“My taste is not shit!” He got a grunt this time for his trouble as Gladio turned the rest of his attention to his book. Ignis sat back in his seat and scowled. He was not going to throw a tantrum at the man for ignoring him like a five year old child, no matter how tempting it might be. As before, Ignis proceeded to ignore Gladio’s existence for the rest of the night.
…
There was a plate with a blood-infused sponge cake topped with a swirl of lemon cream at his usual spot in the cafe. Gladio was looking particularly pleased with himself on the other side of the table with his coffee, book, and a muffin of some kind. “Thought I’d take pity on your taste buds and give them something a little different to enjoy this time,” he said without preamble as Ignis sat in his usual spot across from him. “Girl behind the counter assured me it’s one of their best selling blood treats.”
There was also a fork on the plate. Ignis picked up the fork and poked at the cake as if it would suddenly bite. He frowned when it simply wobbled a bit as cakes were prone to do when poked with a fork. (Pity.) He sliced off the tip of the sponge cake with his fork and put it into his mouth, chewing tentatively. Gladio watched him wordlessly the entire time as he chewed on the cake, deemed it passable, and took another bite.
When he looked up at Gladio next, the man was grinning. “Good then?”
“Passable,” he said instead as he took a sip from his usual blood latte to wash down the cake. It was satisfying to see the grimace on Gladio’s face at the action. “Not something I would order on my own, it’s a bit tart, but I appreciate the treat. Thank you.”
“Huh, not a fan of lemon, hmm? I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
Ignis twitched, and sorely hoped there wouldn’t be a next time. He finished the cake in silence.
…
He was mistaken.
Gladio had somehow taken his acceptance of the sponge cake as permission to bring all sorts of sweets and pastries for him. He would find Gladio either waiting with, or bringing along with a stupid self-satisfied grin, blood infused muffins, or blood infused cookies, or, in one memorable instance, some blood drops that he knew must have been purchased from a speciality candy store and not the little coffee shop they were in. There was always something there waiting for him and Ignis reluctantly accepted the tributes for what they were, appeasements for spitting out his blood latte that one time no doubt. (He refused to think of them as being actual gifts, freely given.)
…
The pattern was broken, one day, by Gladio himself. There was some poetry in the fact that Gladio would break the pattern of showing up by simply deciding to not show up one day. Ignis kept staring out the rain splattered windows for the rest of the night, and kept telling himself he wasn’t disappointed by the disappearance of his usual companion. It was nice to have the table all to himself for once. (Really, it was.)
He told himself that the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.
Ignis didn’t miss Gladio’s presence (or his treats or his witty comments). The space to himself was what he wanted all along, as lonely and quiet as it was.
…
There was a plate of the blood and apple pie that he had grown fond of waiting for him at his usual spot one day. There was also a pile of shiny red blood drops and two small blood-infused muffin and a bowl of apple slices with two dipping sauces at the side. One caramel, and the other blood. It was a veritable feast that had been laid at his usual table, and Gladio was sitting at the spot he had come to think of as Gladio’s across from his usual spot.
“Eh, I might have gone overboard,” Gladio said as he gestured at all the food on the table and shot him an apologetic glance. “I had a work, well work and family, thing come up and- uh, realized that I didn’t have a way to get in contact to warn you.”
Ignis sat across from Gladio, not fulling processing just what Gladio had said. He looked towards the other man in confusion.
Gladio cleared his throat and held out a hand for him to shake. “Let me start this again. Hi, my name is Gladiolus Amicita-” Ignis tried not to jump at the name given to him. Amicita? Like the family protecting royalty Amicita? “-although everyone I know calls me Gladio. What’s your name?”
He tentatively took the hand and shook it. “Ignis, Ignis Scientia. Pleased to meet you Gladio.”
Gladio beamed in response before he let go and pulled out a piece of paper to scribble something on it. “Anyway, you’re cute and dad always said to make the best impression of people you’re interested in.” Ignis spluttered as his brain finally put two and two together to come up with the interesting idea that their impromptu meetings could have been considered dates all along. Oblivious to his internal strife, Gladio slid across a paper with his name and phone number on it. “Here’s my phone number if you’re interested, hope to get a call, or text, whichever is fine, soon.”
Ignis muttered under his breath to himself about oblivious idiots and how food was involved for heaven’s sake as he pulled out his phone and put the number in it. Before he could stop himself by convincing his impulsive side this was a terrible idea, he had sent a text to Gladio.
[Ignis ] Does this mean we’re dating now?
Ignis started on the pie to avoid having to stare at Gladio’s face when the text went through. He got his response soon enough.
[Gladio ] Officially, this our first date.
[ Gladio ] You’re welcome to think of previous ones as unofficial dates if it makes you happy ;)
Ignis made an ugly expression when he read the texts and Gladio teased him about it for the rest of the night. (And for a few nights after.)