Chapter Text
The moment his steps carry him to the grand foyer of Mansion Madeleine, his gaggle of aunts descend on him in a flurry of perfume and meticulously arranged petticoats.
“Oh just look at you, more handsome than ever for our dinner! Come here and let me pinch your cheeks!” his first aunt cooes, reaching for the ‘boy’ in question, only to have her perfectly manicured hands swatted away with a fan.
“Don’t you dare, Crepe Suzette!” Madeleine’s second aunt snaps, “You’ll ruin that perfectly done hair of his and you will not undo my two hours spent taming that mane with nothing but my comb and the hair cream we bought the other day and the berry gel and shampoo and of course the vanilla mist from the perfumer that Charlotte recommended - thank you, by the way, Charlotte dear-”
Madeleine’s third aunt inclines her head, necklace tinkling as she checks her nephew over. “Not a worry, Helene, didn’t I tell you it would be a good choice? Not a hair on his head out of place!”
Madeleine chuckles, sidestepping Helene and Charlotte and gamely bending over to match Aunt Suzette’s height. “Aunties!” he exclaims, words slightly garbled as the oldest aunt squeals and reaches over to squeeze his cheeks, “I can’t express enough how excited I am! In just a moment Espresso Cookie will arrive at Mansion Madeleine for dinner, and I am certain we’ll all show him a wonderful evening, as always!”
“That boy is far too thin!” Helene laments, “Stuck in that building drinking nothing but coffee all day, that can’t be healthy for anyone!”
“And always leaving meals with us in such a hurry too,” Charlotte sighs.
Indeed, Espresso had begrudgingly played guest at Mansion Madeleine several times over the course of his and Madeleine’s… relationship, Madeleine all but dragging him away from his desk at the Institute of Thaumaturgy insisting he eat, Espresso allowing himself to be plied with jellies by the paladin and his overeager family, before begging off on some excuse or other, and scurrying back to his oh-so-important work.
Tonight will be different, however. Tonight, Espresso is a formally invited guest, having made sure to delegate the night’s work to his team of eager interns (the prestige of Being Of Assistance to the creator of Coffee Magic himself far outweighing the prospect of working overtime for an apprentice’s salary of precisely zero coins).
Tonight, Espresso will arrive at 7, sit down for a full five-course meal, and officially meet the family.
The majestic, white-and-gold grandfather clock announces the hour, and on its second chime, one of the servants, stationed at the ready, swings the door open, announcing, “Espresso Cookie, Professor of the Parfaedia Institute and Senior Researcher of the Institute of Thaumaturgy.”
As one, his aunts turn their attention away from Madeleine and toward the mage, shifting uncomfortably in his formalwear and unsuccessfully shielding himself from the onslaught of attention with a jar of dark coffee beans, held up to his chest.
“Espresso Cookie! It’s been too long since you came by for a visit!”
“You must tell me where you had this suit of yours tailored, it fits you perfectly!”
“But oh my poor dear, you’ve lost weight! It’s that Institute of Thorny - whatever-it-is, working you too hard! Why, it’s high time I had some words with Mulled Juice Cookie - he’s my Chess partner on Wednesdays, you know-”
Madeleine hangs back, watches amusedly as Espresso's usually impeccable manners falter, his boyfriend stumbling, overwhelmed, through his aunts’ waterfall of conversation. When he finally breaks away, his long cloak and gift of coffee beans already whisked off by his hosts, Madeleine simply smiles, and greets him with a kiss.
“Espresso,” he says warmly, “I’m so glad you could come tonight, my aunties have been looking forward to this all week!”
“I.” Espresso blinks several times, adjusts his tie, recalibrating to the calm left in his aunts’ wake. “I can tell. They are as… enthusiastic as usual.”
Not one to be left out of conversation for long, Aunt Suzette seizes Espresso’s hands. “Why wouldn’t we be? We all just can’t wait to properly meet the cookie our little Madeleine is so besotted with!”
Espresso turns to Madeleine, a blush slowly spreading across the latter’s face. “ Besotted with , is that right?” he smirks.
Madeleine tosses his hair and puffs out his chest. “Ah, my Aunt Suzette is forward as always, but she’s right, of course! It is only fitting that I, the esteemed Ser Madeleine Cookie, deserving of nothing less than the best, be in love with the very best cookie The Republic, nay, Earthbread has to offer, ha ha!”
It is Espresso’s turn to blush, and he clears his throat. “N- naturally. And,” he adds, regaining his regal bearing as Madeleine slips a hand around his waist, and he and Aunt Suzette lead him to the dining room, “you are all lucky that ‘the best of Earthbread’ was able to clear the evening for this. I can’t understate how much of a headache it was making sure my assistants were properly briefed. Preparing thorough instructions alone kept me up all last night.”
“You stayed up ALL NIGHT?!”
Immediately, the three hear the twin, dismayed cries of Aunts Helene and Charlotte, trailing a little ways behind them but evidently listening in to the conversation.
Espresso sighs, bracing himself for the inevitable reckoning that comes with any interaction with the well-intentioned but boundary-lacking. It’s a good thing he’s had plenty of practice from his dealings with a certain blonde knight, the thought of said knight (along with the prospect of imbibing Mansion Madeleine’s excellent coffee brew) the only things keeping him from leaping bodily out of the nearest window. When he’d told the group they were lucky to have him for the evening, he’d spoken the truth. And unlike his hosts, Espresso is not prone to hyperbole.