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The first time Ignis noticed him, he was humming.
Ignis had been cleaning the front parlor, dusting the grand bookcase across from the wide open window overlooking the front lawn when he heard it: a slow, sweet melody that was offset by the low, graveled voice that hummed it. It took Ignis by surprise even though it shouldn’t have. He wasn’t the only one working for the Lucian prince after all. Yet, he whipped his head around, looking for the source.
His eyes fell on a large figure outside of the window. The man was hunched over, And Ignis could only see the top of his head and the wide expanse of his shoulders. “Just the gardener,” Ignis thought, shedding his worry. Yet, his eyes lingered, drawn in by the song like a ship to a siren. The gardener rose up to stretch, and Ignis’s heart nearly stopped.
The gardener was a bear of a man, tall and muscular with a broad chest and chiseled jawline. As he stretched, the buttons of his green shirt strained against his pectorals. His rolled-up sleeves showed the hint of a black tattoo etched into his muscular arms. He was – for lack of a better term – built, Ignis thought before glancing up to take in the man’s face. The gardener lifted his cap and wiped an arm against his forehead. He was drenched in sweat, but that didn’t take away from his good looks. He had a strong brow and deep caramel-colored eyes. Caramel-colored eyes that were looking right at him.
Oh.
The man on the other side of the parlor window smirked, his lips curling with amusement. He gave a two-fingered wave to Ignis. “Hey,” he said, his voice rich, deep, and rough, fitting his appearance like a leather glove.
Ignis offered a shaky wave back, a slight redness creeping up his neck. “Hello,” he replied, trying to keep his voice calm.
“You’re Noct’s butler, yeah?” the gardener asked, leaning against the window ledge. “I’ve seen you around. What’s your name?”
“Ignis,” he responded quietly, his mouth dry.
“Sorry, what was that?” the man on the other side of the window asked. “Didn’t hear ya.”
“Ignis. My name is Ignis Stupeo Sciencia,” Ignis replied, louder this time but his mouth just as dry. “You’re correct. I am the prince’s personal butler.”
The gardener smiled even wider. “Ignis, huh? Suits you. I’m Gladiolus Amicitia, but call me Gladio.”
“Gladio…” Ignis repeated, letting the name linger against his lips. “Your name suits you as well.”
A handsome name for a handsome man.
Gladio grinned again. He opened his mouth to say something, but a voice from across the lawn called out, “Quit slacking, Gladio! I’ve seen snails that move faster than you do!”
Gladio looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice and groaned. He looked back at Ignis and tipped his cap, saying with a smile, “Duty calls. I’ll see you around, Ignis.”
He rushed off before Ignis had a chance to say anything more. The butler watched as Gladio retreated across the lawn to catch up with whoever was calling to him. Ignis sighed deeply, letting himself take in the larger man’s beautiful form. Once Gladio had disappeared from view, Ignis turned around, returning to his cleaning.
When he turned back towards the window, there was no sign of Gladio. Instead, there were several small white camellia flowers scattered along the windowsill. Ignis smiled, gathered them into a bunch, and put them in a small round vase on the side table.
Two days later, Ignis caught sight of Gladio by the window again. Today, he wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off, showing more of the intricate black tattoo that crawled down his shoulders. Ignis could now see that they were feathers, strong and formidable as the man they adorned. Gladio was trimming the hedge just below the window, carefully pruning unruly leaves. Ignis couldn't help but stare. There was an artistry to Gladio’s methods that Ignis appreciated – at least, that’s what he told himself – when he realized he had been staring for a solid minute.
Gladio glanced up from his work and immediately noticed Ignis through the window. He smiled and rapped on the window, offering a little wave. Ignis waved back and opened the parlor window. “I didn’t mean to disturb you from your work, Gladio. I was simply intrigued by how you manage to keep the shrubbery looking so precise.”
Gladio smiled, rubbing the back of his head in a mildly embarrassed gesture. “It’s nothin’ special. Just doing my job. From what Noct tells me, you do some pretty impressive stuff yourself, Ignis.”
Ignis was taken aback. “Noct speaks of me to you?” he asked, his eyebrows raising. “Goodness. I’m afraid to ask what he’s mentioned to you.”
Gladio laughs. “Nothing embarrassing. He says you’re a pretty good cook. Says you make the best desserts outside of Tennebrae.”
“Well that’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Ignis snorted. “He does nothing but criticize my cooking to me.”
Gladio laughs again. His laughter is deep and warm and filled with deep sincerity that made every other laugh Ignis had ever heard seem fake in comparison. “Noct’s just like that. But hell, the fact that he’s even talking about you to someone like me really does say something about how much he looks up to you.”
Ignis fumbled with his hands, looking down to hide the pink that tinged his cheeks. “That really does make me feel quite special. Thank you for telling me.”
“No problem,” Gladio responded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the windowsill. “So, about those desserts. You wouldn’t happen to have any lying around, would you? I’ve heard so much about them that I’m pretty curious.”
“Do you really think that someone like Noctis would leave any leftover dessert?” Ignis smiled soberly, “That boy will devour anything other than vegetables. No matter how hard I try…” The disappointment on the Gladio’s face flashed onto his features. Ignis felt a slight pang of guilt in his chest for not immediately offering baked goods. “But I can certainly make extras for you. It’s no trouble.”
Gladio’s expression perked up. “You’d do that? I’d like that a lot!” His grin was shining so brightly that Ignis couldn’t help but return the smile. “Same time tomorrow then? If it’s not too soon.”
“Tomorrow is fine by me,” Ignis responded, stifling a laugh at Gladio’s puppy-like exuberance towards the promise of a homemade treat.
Gladio picked up his shears and said, “Tomorrow then. I’ll be looking forward to it.” He walked away, bouncing excitedly with every step, a big grin plastering his face. But a few steps in, he turned and walked back to the window, going back to clipping the hedges. “I got so excited, I forgot I wasn’t even done here,” he said, laughing sheepishly.
For the first time in a long time, Ignis let out a deep, sincere laugh. He turned away, leaving Gladio to his work, returning to his own duties, all the while, thinking of Gladio and what dessert he would make that night.
When Ignis returned to the parlor, Gladio had left, leaving behind neatly trimmed hedges and a small bundle of blue salvia flowers on the window ledge where the camellias had been before.
Two hours had passed, and Ignis still hadn’t decided what to make for Gladio.
He could have made a three-course meal in the time it took him just to decide what dessert to make.
Ignis felt a bit silly being so particular about a simple dessert for the gardener he had only met twice, but deep down, he wanted the experience to be perfect. Ignis was a perfectionist to fault, which led him to being hunched over the wide marble island in the center of the manor’s kitchen, scribbling and almost immediately crossing out any idea that came to his head in his small grey notebook.
Two loud sets of footsteps approached the kitchen, accompanied by loud, familiar chatter. “Oh, hey Ignis!” Noctis’s golden-haired friend called out in his loud and musical voice. “Whatcha workin’ on over there?”
Noctis and Prompto circled on either side of him, trying to glance over the young butler’s shoulder at the notepad. Ignis sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing them on the hem of his crisp black jacket. “If you must intrude, I’m trying to decide what to bake for dessert.”
“That’s a lot of X’s,” Noctis remarked, his eyes scanning down the page. “What’s the celebration?”
“Nothing in particular,” Ignis said, trying not to give away too much to the nosy crown prince and his equally curious friend. “One of the staff members expressed interest in my baking. I simply thought it would be an amicable gesture to offer something for their interest.”
Prompto and Noctis looked at the list and at each other, as though they could communicate telepathically. Noctis smiled and leaned forward beside Ignis. “He must be cute if you’re putting this much work into it.”
Ignis’s ears burned as Noctis looked over the list, completely aware of how much he had made Ignis feel embarrassed. “T-that’s none of your concern,” Ignis stammered, hands clenched against the marble ledge.
“Sure it is,” Noctis responded casually, flipping through the pages of the notebook. Prompto leaned forward, glancing over the list in Noctis’s hand. He let out a small hum and pointed to one of the recipe ideas. “What about this one?” he asked, leaning forward to get a better look at what was actually written on the page. “It’s the only one on the whole list that hasn’t been marked out. What does that say? Who even writes in cursive anymore? Cliff – cliffon – oh, chiffon cake?” Sounds fancy.”
Ignis glanced over at the notebook in Noctis’s hands. Sure enough, among a sea of crossed out desserts was a single, unblemished idea. He knew why: chiffon cake was easily one of his favorite cakes – light and fluffy with the subtlest sweetness. Ignis could feel his stomach purr at the thought of a chiffon cake. But would Gladio even like it? Gladio didn’t really seem like the type to go for “light and airy”. His eyebrows furrowed as he debated internally, weighing the pros with all the potential cons. “Um, hello? Earth to Ignis? You okay there, buddy?” Prompto asked, waving his hands in front of Ignis’s eyes. “You’re totally zoning out man.”
“My apologies,” Ignis responded, snapping back to reality. “I suppose I did get lost in my own thoughts.”
Noctis leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, and looked up at Ignis with a knowing gaze. “You should totally make chiffon cake. It’s one of your favorites, right? If you’re this worried about what to make, the person you’re making it for must be someone you want to impress. You should share stuff you like with people like that. And besides,” he continued, smirking cheekily, jamming his thumb against his chest, “This important person could totally go for some chiffon cake.”
“Nooooct!” Prompto groaned, elbowing his friend roughly as if he wasn’t the Lucian crown prince. “You’re shameless!”
As the two boys laughed and proceeded to prod and tease each other, Ignis exhaled with a soft smile before pulling out his book of recipes and flipping to a familiar page.
Ignis showed up thirty minutes before he and Gladio were supposed to meet. He fidgeted slightly, looking over at the tray of chiffon cakes, neatly decorated with creamy frosting and strawberries. He continued to glance towards the window as though looking would somehow make the time go by faster. Based on the grandfather clock by the parlor door, it seemed to have quite the opposite effect.
How could only five minutes have passed? It feels like I’ve been sitting here for hours…
He calmly reminded himself that he was early and lifted off the couch to at least do something with his hands to pass the time. He strode over to the bookcase and searched for a book: just something to read to pass the time.
“I recommend Essences and Permutations. Don’t let the cover fool you. It’s actually pretty interesting.”
Ignis nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the familiar voice behind him. He turned slowly towards the window, locking eyes with none other than the man he had been waiting for – twenty-five minutes early, no less. Ignis tried to hide his excitement with a small smile and said, “Oh? You consider yourself the book connoisseur?”
Gladio hooked his arms through the window, striking a brilliant contrast to the white windowsill with his black-inked arms and dark grey shirt. He was smiling lazily back at Ignis, loose and easy with no discernable care in the world. “You could say that. It might be presumptuous of me, but I’d be willing to wager that I’ve read more books than even you have, Iggy.”
“Iggy?” Ignis responded to the nickname, unsure of what to make of it.
“You got a problem with nicknames?” Gladio asked, resting his palm against his jaw. “I think it suits you.”
Ignis flushed, his heart pounding down to his fingertips. “I-if you think so, then I can’t say I’m completely opposed to the nickname.”
“Cool,” Gladio said softly, glancing at the book in Ignis’s hands. “So, what are you reading? I might have read it.”
Ignis glanced down at the book in his hands. He had read the book before: a stunning blue and gold copy of Cosmogony that detailed the history of legends from the Lucius Caelum history. He raised the book to show the cover to Gladio, “I’ve already read this one: many times in fact. Surely a self-proclaimed book connoisseur has read this.”
The smile on Gladio’s face widened, showing his pearly white teeth. “Of course. Everyone in the three continents has read that one.”
“Everyone except for Prince Noctis,” Ignis responded coyly. “The only way he’d read it is if I attached it to the end of a fishing pole.”
Gladio laughed, just as sincerely and warmly as he had during their past meeting. “Noct really is a piece of work. Whoever has to take care of him must really have their work cut out for them.”
Ignis smiled knowingly, “Oh, I’m sure he manages somehow.”
They both looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into roaring laughter. Gladio clutched his chest from laughing so hard, and Ignis removed his glasses to wipe away the tears in the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. When their laughter died down into soft chuckles, Gladio stammered through laughs, “Damn. I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. I think I just used muscles I didn’t know I had!”
“Now that’s just absurd, Gladio,” Ignis smiled. “You seem to be well acquainted with all of your muscles.”
Gladio didn’t shy away from the compliment. Instead he grinned and flexed his right arm, letting his bicep swell and recede with every pump of his wrist. “Huh, guess you’re right. This arm and I are basically best friends. Don’t tell the left arm though. I think it’d get jealous.”
Ignis snorted in response, settling down in the chair by the windowsill. “I brought cake for you to try. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made something simple that I thought you’d enjoy no matter what your dessert preferences may be.”
Gladio’s eyes sparkled as Ignis handed him a plate. “My dessert preference is pretty much ‘there for my consumption’, but this looks amazing!” He waited until Ignis had a plate for himself before cutting off a piece of cake with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. Gladio froze for a moment before practically melting into the window ledge. “Iggy, this is amazing! It tastes so good! I’m at a loss for words that aren’t good and amazing because it’s just that good and amazing!”
Gladio wolfed down another bite (more like half the cake), and smiled with crinkling eyes. “You really are an amazing baker! Noct was so right. Guess I have to give him credit for something. Damn! I need to stop talking because talking means I’m not eating.”
Ignis felt like he was smiling so much that his face hurt. He hadn’t touched his own cake, rather contented to simply watch Gladio enjoy his own slice. His heart was positively soaring with joy that Gladio liked the cake so much. The gardener was scraping the bottom of the plate with his fork, trying to get every scrap of cake and frosting. Ignis held out his own plate to Gladio, whose eyes bugged out. “Iggy, I couldn’t…”
“There’s still more cake in the kitchen. I can have another slice later. Please, take it,” Ignis lied, pushing the cake further towards Gladio. The gardener hesitated for only a moment before taking the cake with a simple, “Thanks, Iggy.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Gladio got through half of the cake before setting the plate down, looking up at Ignis with hopeful eyes. “Can we do this again? It doesn’t have to be cake next time. I’d try anything you made.”
Ignis smiled softly, “Certainly.”
They continued to chat at the window: about food, work, books, Prince Noctis – anything really. They would have stayed there for hours if Gladio hadn’t been called away, scolded for slacking off work again. Gladio sighed and looked up at Ignis. “I guess I’ll see you later?”
“Of course,” Ignis responded, kneeling by the window. “I’ll be waiting.”
Ignis watched Gladio walk away, slouched over as he headed towards his supervisor. He sighed, looking longingly at Gladio – the way his hair fell against his shoulders, the curve of his elbow as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, the way his jeans clung so perfectly to his backside. Ignis’s face burned. He truly was smitten with the attractive gardener. He turned around before Gladio had a chance to look back and notice how red the butler’s face had probably become, stacking the practically clean dishes onto the tray. He pressed his gloved hands against his face, feeling his cheeks’ radiating warmth. “What am I doing?” he asked himself, his face still cradled in his hands. “This is probably a foolish endeavor.”
He took the tray back to the kitchen and continued his duties for the day. When he passed the parlor later that afternoon, he noticed a spot of red on the windowsill. Waiting for him was a single red tulip.
The next day was unusually hot.
Ignis had removed his jacket and rolled up his crisp white sleeves. The usually open windows of the parlor were closed to keep the manor cool, but Ignis wanted so much to open the window for the one person he desired to see. He tried not to get his hopes too high up as he cleaned the parlor tables, but kept glancing towards the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of dark hair or tanned skin, but no such luck. Ignis sunk into one of the plush seats of the parlor and looked through the window. He admired Gladio’s immaculate shrubs along the window and the pink peonies that decorated the walkway surrounding the elegant fountain. His eyes followed the walkway, taking in the white irises and lavender and the daylilies that hadn’t yet bloomed. All these flowers had been cared for by Gladio. All touched by his hands.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure hunched over, digging into the sprinkler system. Gladio wore only a black tank top, his face drenched in sweat. Ignis pitied him and he knew he should have rushed to the kitchen and gotten the gardener a glass of water or lemonade or something, but he couldn’t help but stare longingly at Gladio. Ignis licked his lips and scooted towards the window, watching longingly as Gladio worked, muscles straining as he worked to repair a part of the sprinkler. He stretched, pushing his hair back from his face, breathing heavily from the heat. Ignis’s heart was pounding as he watched Gladio reach behind himself, lifting the shirt from his back and pulling it up and over his head, giving his uninvited guest an unobstructed view of his sculpted chest and abdominals. Ignis felt his whole body burn with want and shame, knowing he shouldn’t be staring but unable to pull his eyes away. He drank in the gardener’s body as Gladio wiped his face with his shirt. Gladio slung the tank top over his shoulder and went back to work, completely unaware of his spectator.
Ignis slumped down, his back to the window. He breathed in, begging his heart to slow down and hoping the redness in his cheeks wasn’t too apparent. He was ashamed of himself for his actions. Surely Gladio would consider him a pervert for his behavior. But despite his indignity, he had no regrets.
“Iggy?” a muffled voice asked from above and behind him. “What are you doing down there?”
The butler looked up and came face to face with the man he had just been admiring, still sweaty from his work and still, much to Ignis’s chagrin, bare-chested. Ignis swallowed thickly even though his mouth felt as dry as a Leiden summer. “Oh, erm, hello Gladio. It’s quite hot today, isn’t it?”
Gladio hummed in response, still looking at Ignis. “You don’t look so good. Do you need me to get someone to help you? I’d come in myself, but I’m kinda gross right now. Wouldn’t want to make extra work for you.”
“N-no, no! It’s fine!” Ignis stammered, rising up to face Gladio. He pushed open the window, letting cold air rush out of the parlor. Gladio exhaled in pleasure as the air hit him like a much-needed breeze, rolling back his head to give Ignis an ample view of the column of his neck and puffed-out pectorals. “Damn, feels good,” he grunted in pleasure, blissfully unaware of what he was doing to Ignis. “I haven’t had a chance to get some air all afternoon. It’s been unbearably hot today.”
“Indeed. Unbearably hot,” Ignis responded, trying not to make his attraction obvious.
“Hey, you wouldn’t mind grabbing some water for me, would you?” Gladio asked, hunching over the window. “I feel like I’ve sweated out all the water in my body. If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”
“It’s no trouble,” Ignis said abruptly. “Wait one moment.”
He rushed from the room to grab water for Gladio, ducking into the kitchen. He grabbed a cold bottle from the fridge and hurried back to the parlor. The gardener perked up when he returned and took the bottle enthusiastically from Ignis’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, Iggy. I thought I was gonna die there for a second.”
“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Ignis responded. “With you gone, who would bury the body?”
Gladio snorted and unscrewed the lid to the water bottle, drinking it with no expense for grace. Water dripped from the sides of his mouth and into his beard, down his neck, and into the cleft of his chest.
Oh gods.
Gladio let out a satisfied noise and screwed the lid back onto the bottle. “That hit the spot. What would I do without you, Iggy?”
“I’m sure you’d figure out something. You’ve managed well enough so far.”
“Yeah, I guess. But this past week has just been better,” Gladio said wistfully.
The silence between the two men was palpable. Gladio seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Ignis was lost in Gladio. He absolutely felt the same way about spending time with Gladio. He was much happier when the man was around and looked forward to seeing him every day. It was like a friendship, but different. It was so much more. Better.
Love.
Gladio took another swig from his water bottle and looked at Ignis. “Hey, have you… have you been getting my messages?”
“Messages?” Ignis asked, unsure of what Gladio was talking about.
“Nevermind,” Gladio stammered, quick to respond. “It’s nothing.”
“If you insist,” Ignis said, a bit disappointed.
Gladio hesitated for a moment, the look in his eyes saying that it most certainly was not nothing. “I, uh, I gotta get going. I still have to finish fixing a sprinkler. And you know how the boss likes to ride my ass about slacking off. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Of course. Any time, Gladio,” Ignis responded, sadness ebbing into his words with longing for Gladio not to leave.
Gladio waved goodbye, slowly backing away without turning around. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Ignis wished he would. Anything to hear his voice and prevent them from parting, even if just for a moment. But Gladio turned around and walked away wordlessly.
When Ignis came back to the parlor in the evening doing his final check of the house, he noticed the water bottle he had given Gladio with flowers Ignis had never seen before swaying softly in the evening breeze.
“Hey, Ignis,” Noctis asked, lounging on the sofa in the parlor on a lazy Sunday afternoon. “What’s with all the flowers?”
Ignis, who had been reading in the company of the prince, glanced around the room. Every flower that had been left on the windowsill for him was in a vase in the parlor. “Do you not like having some greenery in the house, Noct? I thought they would bring some color to the room.”
Noctis glanced over at the white camellias, eyebrows raised. “Sure, color. But seriously, what’s the deal with the astilbe in the water bottle? It’s kinda weird.”
Ignis closed his book and looked up at Noctis who was glancing over at the flowers Gladio had left for him yesterday. “Astilbe? How did you know what type of flowers those are?”
The prince shrugged, settling back down onto the couch. “I hang out with Gladio sometimes. That guy knows everything about flowers. Their names, their meanings, when they bloom…”
Their meanings.
“Have you been getting my messages?”
Suddenly, everything made sense.
“That’s it!” Ignis shouted, shooting up out of his chair and letting the book on his lap topple to the floor. Noctis jumped slightly in his seat at Ignis’s sudden movement. “How could I have been so foolish?” He muttered to himself, rushing to the bookshelf and running a finger over the spines of each book. “Surely there must… Where would it be… Ah!”
He pulled out a thick book titled Encyclopedia of Plants and Flowers of the Three Continents and slammed it onto the coffee table. “Gladio has been sending me messages through the flowers.”
Now was Noctis’s turn to sit up. “Gladio? You and Gladio?” Something clicked in Noctis’s brain. “So the other day when you made that cake, it was for Gladio?” Ignis responded with a not, flipping through pages of the book with fervent concentration. “Wow. For someone as smart as you, you can be pretty blind when it comes to relationships.”
Ignis’s eyes widened. “Are you implying…”
“Ignis,” Noctis groaned. “He gave you flowers.”
“I presumed he was simply being friendly!”
“Oh my god, Ignis.”
Ignis finally found the page for astilbe and traced his finger down the page until he found what he was looking for, “Meaning,” he read aloud, “I’ll still be waiting.” Ignis looked at Noctis, who had seated himself on the floor next to Ignis. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe you’re supposed to look at them in order? Which one did he give you first?” Noct asked, shifting to get a better look at the book.
“The camellias,” Ignis answered, flipping forward a few sections until he landed on the page for camellias. “Let’s see… Generally, camellias represent good luck to men along with gratitude, perfection, and contentment. However, different colored camellias have different meanings. See the table below.” Ignis looked at the table and spotted the entry for white camellias, “White camellias: you’re… adorable.” Ignis’s mouth opened and closed, somewhat unsure of what to make of the statement. “Gladio thinks I’m adorable?”
Noct, now heavily invested in searching for the flower meanings, tapped Ignis lightly on the face. “Keep going. What was next?”
“The salvia,” Ignis said, flipping far forward in the book to the “S” section. “There’s another table. Let’s see, blue salvia: wisdom, thinking of you.”
“Holy shit,” Noctis breathed, flipping through the pages of the book before Ignis had even fully let the meaning sink in. “We have to check the last one. The red tulip, right?”
Ignis nodded. His mind was cloudy and buzzing with excitement. He couldn’t believe that Gladio thought about him and put so much heart and meaning into the flowers he left for Ignis. His heart and stomach were leaping and turning and wanted so much to see Gladio and return the sentiments he had left in the flowers.
“Ignis,” Noctis whispered, shocked at what he had found. “Look at this.”
Noctis turned the book towards Ignis, pointing to the table where the red tulip’s meaning was written.
Red tulip: declaration of love.
Ignis was in complete shock. Gladio loved him? He truly loved him? It wasn’t just some mistake? He wasn't trying to give meaning to things that didn’t have a meaning? Surely not: Noctis said that Gladio knew all of the flowers’ meanings. And it made sense, what with all the other flowers’ meanings. His mind flickered back to all the times they had met: all the times they had shared. Everything just made sense and felt right.
“Ignis,” Noctis said softly, breaking the silence between them, “You have to tell him how you feel. And don’t even say that you don’t feel the same way! I know you too well, dude.”
“Yeah,” Ignis responded, his hand pressed against the pages of the book. “I know exactly how I’ll do it.”
When Ignis arrived at the parlor, Gladio was already at the window. He looked a little more kempt than usual in a soft grey shirt with a black t-shirt underneath. He looked up and smiled when Ignis walked into the parlor and leaned up against the ledge of the window. “Hey Iggy. Nice weather today.”
“Indeed it is,” Ignis responded. “You look quite nice today, Gladio.”
Gladio rubbed his nose, smearing a bit of dirt across it. “Thanks. That’s a nice compliment from someone who always looks immaculate.”
Ignis smiled softly. “I got your message.”
Gladio froze, but didn’t show any signs of sheepishness. “Oh? What’d you think?”
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” Ignis instructed, a coy smile creeping onto his lips.
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Gladio obeyed, closing his eyes tightly so his brows furled and his nose wrinkled. Ignis dipped down and picked up the flower he had prepared. It was velvety purple and felt soft in his hands as he pressed it against Gladio’s work-worn palm. His hand lingered against Gladio’s, savoring the touch for just that moment. “Alright, open your eyes.”
Gladio opened his eyes and looked down into his hands. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes unblinking with shock and, Ignis hoped, joy. He shakily smiled, looking up into Ignis’s seafoam green eyes. “Ambrosia,” he whispered, gazing longingly at the purple flower in his hand.
“I’m guessing you understand its meaning then?” Ignis asked, leaning forward against the windowsill.
Gladio nodded. “Requited love.”
“That’s correct.”
They stood still for just a brief moment, looking at each other with knowing eyes. Ignis wasn’t sure who moved first. They hadn’t said anything. They simply moved towards each other, their heads meeting through the window, lips pressed together softly. Simply. It was as if, for just this moment, there was no one else in the world but them, surrounded by flowers and bushes and framed by the wide parlor window.