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The barista arched an eyebrow, and Dedede felt his face warm beneath that stare. “Did you want something?” the barista asked, sounding annoyed. His tag read Meta Knight in thick, looping print.
“I…um, I’ll have a chai tea latte.”
“Do you want that hot or cold?”
“Hot.”
Meta Knight dutifully made the notes on the cup and offered nothing further. Inwardly, Dedede sighed in relief, taking this as an indication that Meta Knight didn’t recognize him. “And your name?”
Dedede rolled his shoulders back and tilted his chin up, like the proud blue-blooded man he was, so he was looking down on Meta Knight. That was much better vantage point, although it wasn't very difficult to look down on Meta Knight. The poor man barely came up to Dedede’s chest. He’d have to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Dedede, which—Dedede thought—wasn’t really a bad image. It was a cute and very appealing idea. Dedede might even be coaxed into bending down and helping poor, short Meta Knight. “It’s Dedede.” He spelled it out; people never got his name right.
Meta Knight wrote the name on the cup with elegant, spidery handwriting and passed it to the waiting barista, who was a pixie-like creature with bubblegum-pink hair. Dedede paid and took his receipt without sparing another glance at the barista. Just as he turned away from the counter, Meta Knight cleared his throat. “Ah, Sir?”
“Yeah?”
“I was just wondering if you'd licked any mailboxes on the way here."
Dammit.
Dedede blamed the entire situation on Susie Haltmann. It’d been her idea to slip away from their respective fathers’ big business party and drink to their heart’s content in her apartment. Sure, Dedede had eagerly went along with it, but that wasn't really important. And on the way to Susie's apartment, they’d both texted a few friends, and the “few friendly drinks” transformed into “drunken slosh-fest" at an alarming speed. They were all sober enough to realize that it was illegal for Susie to run topless around the block, but they were just drunk enough to make mischief. “Dedede,” Bandanna Dee said, a bit unsteady on his feet. “I dare you to go and lick her neighbor’s mailbox.”
Dedede raised an eyebrow. He felt very, very warm, and this small, stupid challenge had suddenly emboldened him. His entire family name was at stake! He had royal blood, after all, and it wouldn't do to disgrace the family honor by refusing the challenge. Yes. Of course, had Dedede been sober, he'd have dismissed the idea in an instant. It was an absurd dare. A stupid dare.
“Oooh, Meta Knight,” Susie said. “He’s very impressive. I’d like to lick him.”
Something about her tone seemed less "I want him to come hither and make love to me" and more “I’d like to abduct him and keep him in my basement.” Dedede’s foggy head was having a difficult time processing things, so he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the creepiness (likely inspired by his recent binge-watching of serial killer movies) or if there really was something genuinely disturbing about how Susie had said it.
Of course, Dedede accepted the dare. He stalked across the yard and ran his tongue slowly and dramatically over Susie’s neighbor’s mailbox, while their friends cheered and wolf-whistled.
Then, a throat cleared. Dedede still had his tongue on the mailbox and stared up, utterly bewildered by this person's sudden appearance.
Susie’s neighbor—Meta Knight, though at the time, Dedede had dubbed him Mr. Gorgeous—stood, with his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly, just a few yards away. Meta Knight’s face was soft-featured, made only moreso by his large eyes and shoulder-length, midnight-blue hair. And his abs were clearly the work of much pride and devotion. Dedede gawked, open-mouthed, at one of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen. Eventually, his mind caught up with his mouth, and Dedede shut his jaw with a painful click.
Dedede felt his face warm and tried very hard to think of an eloquent and reasonable explanation for why he’d just licked said neighbor’s mailbox. It’d be easier if Meta Knight had decided to wear a shirt. His lack of clothing was surely a purposeful attempt to make Dedede unsteady. Dedede squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up, for the maximum amount of intimidation and pretentiousness. Good. Now Dedede just needed an eloquent and reasonable explanation for licking said neighbor’s mailbox. He was certain one would come. Certainly.
“You oughta put a shirt on!” Dedede exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “Quit just flaunting yourself around!”
Okay, so maybe Dedede wasn’t wearing a shirt either, but he wasn’t showing off. He’d just lost his shirt…somewhere. That’d happened somewhere in the truth-or-dare game. Or maybe during the strip poker. But Dedede had a legitimate reason! Susie’s neighbor did not. Dedede smirked at his brilliance. Checkmate.
Meta Knight took a step towards Dedede. Somehow, Susie’s neighbor managed to look imposing, in spite of the fact that Dedede literally had to look down on him. It took Dedede’s alcohol-laden mind a good minute to realize that Susie’s neighbor’s eyes were different colors—one a soft, moon-like silver and the other a blazing amber-gold. “I wouldn’t dream of flaunting myself,” Meta Knight said, with an accent that made Dedede's insides tie themselves up in knots; it sounded Southern-Coastal. “I'd be a fool if I thought I could compete with such elegance and poise."
Dedede’s heart was in his throat. Then, Susie’s neighbor patted his mailbox—notably far away from where Dedede’s impromptu make-out session had ensued. “You’re an ass,” Dedede said.
“And you’re smashed. Kindly see yourself off my lawn, won’t you? Some of us need sleep, and you’re being quite loud.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!”
Susie’s neighbor raised an eyebrow, as if saying, yes, I can tell you what to do, and you’ll do it. As if that tiny, pixie-like creature could even hope to best Dedede in any sort of combat. Dedede felt a hand grab his arm, Bandanna Dee come to his rescue. “Sorry, de Brillante Armadura,” Bandanna Dee said, slurring his words.
“Keep your friend inside, please, before you wake the whole neighborhood.”
With that, Susie’s neighbor loped away, with more grace than it was fair for any one person to have.
The cafe was quiet and cozy. He'd missed the lunch rush, and because of this, Dedede could actually hear the music playing and the chatter behind the counter. It smelled of warmth and cinnamon and seemed like a place too tranquil for plotting vengeance upon someone. As if that would stop him. Dedede spent the time waiting for his coffee by planning his revenge on Meta Knight de Brillante Armadura. Unfortunately, he couldn’t come up with anything worse than demanding Meta Knight remake his drink. Well, of course, he could do worse. He could spill it over the counter and make Meta Knight clean it up. He could find the manager and insist that Meta Knight had been very rude and caused him incomprehensible emotional distress. But…
But he didn’t want to get Meta Knight in trouble, and he certainly didn't want Meta Knight to be yelled at by an overzealous, "the customer is always right" kind of boss. He just wanted to toy with him a little bit. “Dedede!” Meta Knight’s coworker, whose tag identified him as Kirby, pushed the drink onto the counter, and Dedede grabbed the drink, studying it carefully.
There weren't any customers besides himself, and Meta Knight looked very bored about wiping that counter down. “Hello, Mety Knighty!” Dedede said in a sing-song voice. He practically draped himself over the front counter, his drink held teasingly a half-inch from Meta Knight's nose.
“Yes, Sir?” Meta Knight asked.
Dedede grinned. “I'm displeased with my service. Clearly, you're new and don't know how to take coffee orders. You made a huge mistake with mine."
Meta Knight’s face grew guarded and wary. “I see."
"That's all you have to say," Dedede said.
"There's nothing wrong with your drink. You didn't like what I said to you, and you intend to be...obnoxious about it. Fine. I made a mistake. What do you want instead?"
Dedede felt like Meta Knight still—somehow—had the upper hand. "You must have a really good manager."
Meta Knight raised an eyebrow. "I do. Why would you...?"
"You aren't afraid to call me out. That indicates that you ain't scared of getting in trouble with your boss for smarting off to a customer."
"Smarting off," Meta Knight echoed. "I prefer to call it being quick-witted."
“Anyway,” Dedede said. “I just meant that you didn't put your number on it."
Meta Knight tilted his head, clearly confused. “My number?"
“You know. Your cell phone number? We can text?" Dedede mimed texting with his coffee-less hand.
"Maybe I don't want to text you. After all, I don't know how I would feel about playing second-fiddle to my own mailbox."
Dedede laughed. "Well, no worries! I can take a hint."
Meta Knight smiled. "It wasn't a rejection. I get off in ten minutes," he said. "Perhaps, we could do something together?"
"Like a date?"
"Wasn't that what you wanted?"
Dedede smirked. Meta Knight's delicate face was very close to his. "See you in ten."