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fic_ception2018-12-05 11:12 pm
chlorhexidine) wrote in fic_ception2018-12-05 11:12 pm
Universe - Relationships
The start of December brought dark nights, cold days, and rapidly looming deadlines. Ignis spent many of his spare hours holed up in the library where the transient student population rotated through tables among the stacks. On some days he was joined by Bert in quiet reading and note taking. On others, Gladio would take up residence nearby along with Reiner and Grimmjow; their studying style was less quiet, but they were mindful to keep the volume acceptably low.
Sometimes Levi would spend an entire evening working across the table from Ignis in relative silence, and sometimes Ignis would share the space with Nel, Apache, or Annie. Their table of choice might move, from the rows of computers and the e-library to buried deep in a forgotten nook, and even when Ignis didn't need to venture among the shelves proper he'd sometimes travel with them for the company.
He was working on a set of photocopied pages from a book at a table buried among the contemporary history shelves when Nel's phone rang out the marker for thirty minutes and she stretched. Ignis took the alarm going off as a signal to take a few moments himself; he could study in marathon sessions, but things were definitely more easily absorbed if he took breaks.
Nel reached for the ceiling as Ignis flexed his wrist. “How much is in the coffer this week?” she asked, noticing that Ignis had abandoned his reading and highlighting for a few minutes.
“Honestly,” Ignis answered, “I hadn't checked.” They'd had enough in the Sunday tin to pay for a lavish dinner twice over, but that didn't mean the figure had increased since last week. “We don't usually open it until this evening. Why?”
Nel tilted her head and shrugged one shoulder. “I was just thinking we should decorate for Christmas,” she said.
Ignis frowned. “None of us will be here,” he pointed out. The university shut down for a week over Christmas, with the dorms emptying out of students usually until the beginning of the next term. Ignis was only going home for the mandatory week where they weren't permitted in the dorms, but he'd likely be alone on campus for most of the rest of the holiday.
“So?” Nel asked, giving him a thoroughly unhappy frown. “We can still get in the festive spirit.”
Ignis frowned. Christmas was, in his experience, more of a hassle than a celebration. It had been wonderful when he was a young child, and he remembered well the joys of baking in the week before Christmas, and decorating the tree on Christmas Eve. As he'd got older the sparkle had gone out of the season, and it had become more about being pushed to the confessional every Sunday, and dragged to midnight Mass. “I don't know,” he said, hesitantly. If Nel was bringing it up in relation to the Sunday tin, then it was obvious she wanted to use some of that money.
“Oh come on,” Nel pleaded, leaning across the table. “Wouldn't it be nice if we had a Christmas dinner together before we split up for the holiday?”
Ignis found himself torn. The idea of a Christmas dinner with Levi, Bert, Gladio, and the others was appealing. As was the notion of enjoying a secular Christmas, instead of the one mired in Catholic tradition that he was in for at home. Still, he had reservations. “That's a lot of work, Nel,” he said, “and we should have made the pudding already.”
Nel sighed at his answer and sat back in her chair with a huff. “So you're not up for it?” she asked, with obvious disappointment.
Ignis fought against his urge to agree just to wipe away Nel's disappointment. “I didn't say that,” he said, “but it is a lot of work.”
“So's every Sunday,” Nel replied, with a flash of a cheeky grin. It disappeared as she turned back to pleading. “If everyone else agrees would you join us?”
Ignis sighed, quietly. “Of course I would,” he answered. He could hardly refuse. His own guilt at being a Scrooge would overpower him first, and if everyone else wanted to celebrate he wasn't prepared to be the one stopping them.
Nel brightened up considerably. “Great,” she said. “Apache and I can get the decorations this week.”
Ignis realised he'd been talked into agreeing without ever actually giving his explicit agreement, but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. They pulled together to make dinner together every Sunday, the others operating on Ignis's instruction under Levi's guidance. Surely they could manage a Christmas dinner together the same way? “I suppose if we let people know the money is going towards decorations,” he conceded, softly. “What about gifts?” he asked, more hesitantly.
Nel shook her head. “We already talked about that,” she said, without clarifying who 'we' was. “It's unfair to expect us all to get presents for each other; we're not all loaded. But if we wanted to get something for someone in particular, that's between us.”
Ignis gave a thoughtful nod as he considered that. 'We' was likely Nel, Gladio, and Apache, although he doubted that Levi and Bert would object to the decision.
He'd have to get Levi a present. Levi had become Ignis's best friend in the past few weeks, and it would feel improper not to get him something. Ignis couldn't afford to get anything for anyone else, but if a shared dinner would suffice in place of something trite like a secret Santa exchange than it was all the better. “All right,” he said, finally. “But don't go overboard with the decorations,” he advised, “we won't be here for most of Christmas to enjoy them.”
Despite his reservations, Ignis still made his way down to his afternoon history lecture with plans for a Christmas dinner forming in his mind. He'd have to look up a few stuffing recipes; the one his mother preferred was bland and didn't really bring out the flavour of the meat, and they'd have to get a turkey from somewhere. The butcher Ignis was forming a regular relationship with would be able to get one, of course, but ordering one for before Christmas might be trickier.
Ignis would prefer not to get a frozen bird if it could be helped. Frozen meat lost its texture unless it had been frozen properly, and thawed with care.
That was assuming everyone would enjoy turkey. Perhaps it would be best to put it to a vote, as they did with the Sunday dinner meat options? Most of them would be returning home to a Christmas dinner that comprised of turkey with all the trimmings, after all. There could be such a thing as too much turkey.
Ignis began to sketch out an approximate shopping list while he waited for the professor to arrive. Turkey went at the top, question marked, just in case. Ham and goose were marked as alternative options beside it. Then it was sprouts, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, goose fat, chipolata sausages and streaky bacon for pigs in blankets, onions, stuffing, and gravy.
There was also the matter of the pudding. It wasn't a Christmas dinner without a Christmas pudding, and yet they were too late to make one from scratch lest it turn out subpar. A proper pud needed the time to mature in the brandy. Ignis loathed the idea of simply buying a pre-made pudding, but perhaps needs must on this occasion.
He was distracted from his list making when Professor Smith entered the lecture hall. Typically the man was well turned out in a shirt and trousers, and with his blue eyes, blond hair, and relatively well cut physique, there was the look of Captain America about him. Ignis hadn't seen the films, but he'd seen the adverts and heard the muttered comments among the students often enough to find he agreed. He quite liked Professor Smith; he was a commanding presence who had a passion for his subject that Ignis found infectious. History was one of his electives; Understanding politics, vocational politics, research skills, and classical political thought were his first year requirements, but history was the one he'd chosen in supplement to those, and it was proving a favourite.
Ignis took a second look at Smith when he entered the lecture hall, as did the other fifty students in the class. The man was wearing a bright red jumper emblazoned with a giant, knitted Christmas tree. What appeared to be real tinsel hung off it.
“Good afternoon!” Professor Smith called, when he reached his usual talking spot at the front of the room. A camera flashed to Ignis's right, and Ignis glanced over to the source to see one of the other students taking a picture with her phone.
Professor Smith's smile could have illuminated the room, not that it needed to. A second and then third camera flash went off. Ignis watched as a Professor that he had, up to now, respected brought his hand up to press his thumb against one knitted bauble. Each of the knitted lights on the jumper began to flash; coloured LEDS embedded in the material mimicked the flickering fairy lights of a real Christmas tree.
More cameras flashed around Ignis. After a few seconds that seemed to last an interminably long time the flashing lights on the jumper died away.
“Do it with the lights off!” called one student.
“At the end,” Professor Smith replied, and added, “if you're good.”
“Are you going to wear that all month, sir?” called the girl that had first raised her phone to take a picture. Ignis was reasonably sure she'd recorded the light show, too.
To Ignis's relief, Smith shook his head. He ruined it, however, when he explained, “I have a different one for every lecture, but you'll only get to see them all if you impress me.”
Ignis cringed in his seat. He'd never felt so torn about the future of his academic performance before. On the one hand he wished to do well, and on the other, he didn't want Professor Smith thinking he had to wear those awful jumpers for the whole month, or at least what remained of it in the academic year.
“One of them sings,” Smith added, happily. Ripples of conversation and laughter went around the room, and Ignis noted how many students were more engaged with their phones than with what was being said. “But if you're going to see that,” he added, “I need to see every face that's here today in every lecture until January.”
Which was quite clever, when Ignis thought about it. The attendance rate in lectures had dropped off after the first couple of weeks, and there were some students whom Ignis hadn't seen since. Of course, some of them had likely changed their subject, and others may have dropped out, as they'd been warned many did in the first couple of weeks. Changing one's degree program wasn't out of the question so long as one made the decision early enough. But even after that two weeks grace period, attendance had dropped, and now some of Ignis's lectures could have as few as ten people in them.
The afternoon lectures were usually better populated, like this one. It was typically the fullest history lecture Ignis had in the weekly schedule. As the weather turned, it probably became harder to get bottoms in seats. The lure of warm beds overpowered the urge to learn.
The mood in the class had certainly shifted. There was a whisper of determination among the rows. Attending lectures had been made into a challenge, with the reward being the witnessing of a professor looking thoroughly ridiculous. Ignis wondered what other conditions might be applied. 'If you're good' could mean more than merely 'if you attend'.
He had to wait until the end of the lecture to find out. “If you stop by my desk on your way out,” Smith declared, as their hour and a half drew to a close and the students packed away laptops and notepads, “you can collect your next reading pack.”
The curriculum they'd been given at the start of the year had detailed what each lecture would be about, as well as the various essay topics and deadlines. The next deadline for history was the end of January, but that only gave them five weeks of lectures until then. Not that Ignis objected; the need to attend to essays was going to be the excuse he gave to his mother for why he was spending as little time at home this Christmas as he reasonably could. The dorms opened back up just after the New Year, before Twelfth Night, and Ignis already knew his mother wouldn't be keen on him departing for university again before Christmas was really over unless he had very good reason to return.
He lingered at his desk, finishing off some notes before he packed them back into his bag and ventured down to the front. Smith greeted him with a smile as he held the reading pack towards Ignis. Ignis could smell the faint waft of his cologne, as if he'd applied it fresh just before the lecture. He hoped Smith wasn't going out dressed like that. “At least I'll have one student that will attend everything,” he said.
Ignis bowed his head as he took the pack from Smith. “You shouldn't have to go to such lengths to encourage attendance,” he commented. The pack was deceptively heavy in his hands. Some professors gave their students a list of books that could be found in the library that contained relevant chapters that students could photocopy, and some put them on the e-library. The downside was that copying or printing those required paying fees. Smith was the only lecturer Ignis had that handed out hardcopies to students that wanted them, for no charge.
It had been less of a surprise than it would have been since Ignis knew he also regularly topped off the Pay It Forward board in Ebony. The number of drinks on the board was falling rapidly as the end of term approached, and brought with it the need to make the last of a loan payment stretch. Ignis had only sold PIF drinks to professors last week, but it had been more professors than before. Leonis had put two coffees on the board on Saturday.
“You don't think it's festive?” Smith asked, and looked for all the world genuinely disappointed at the possibility.
Ignis tried to think of a way to respond that would be truthful without telling Smith that he looked ridiculous. He settled on, “My family are Catholic. Festive, to me, is advent candles and extra confession.” And the firm reminder that God gave his Son for our sins, he thought, and that Mary was definitely a virgin, despite pregnancy serving as evidence to the contrary in every other case in history.
Seriousness swept over Smith's expression. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to disrespect your faith,” he said.
Ignis couldn't help but laugh. “My family are Catholic,” he explained, “I'm an atheist. You can make light of Christmas all you wish, for me.”
A smile broke out across Smith's face. “Was that an intentional pun?” he asked.
Ignis glanced down at the LEDs on Smith's jumper and realised what he'd just said. “No,” he admitted, finding it difficult to keep a straight face.
Smith's smile didn't fade. “That's a shame,” he said, “it was a good one. If you have any problems with the essay topic or want any further reading material, you know where to find me, don't you?” he asked, shifting back to the topic of Ignis's studies.
“Of course,” Ignis replied, opening his bag again to tuck the reading pack into it.
A freezing wind was whipping up when Ignis left the building. He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself. It was getting too cold for the autumn coat he had, now. He was going to have to consider going out to get one for winter. That would mean checking his bank balance, and potentially some strict budgeting for the rest of the month.
When he got back to the dorm, Levi was in the kitchen making himself a tea. He was dressed in pressed trousers and a pristine white shirt. “Going out?” Ignis asked, heading straight for the kettle and preparing his cafetiere. His hands were halfway to numb, aching with the cold, and he longed for something hot and caffeinated.
“Got a date,” Levi answered, his voice low and matter of fact. “He's picking me up in half an hour.”
“I'm on my own for dinner, then,” Ignis responded. He and Levi usually shared their meals when they were both in. It was far more cost effective to buy for two than for two people to buy for one, and saved Ignis from having to freeze fresh ingredients to prevent them going stale, or sour. He disliked freezing things unless he had no other choice.
“Sorry,” Levi answered, cradling his tea in his hands.
“Don't be,” Ignis answered, flashing Levi a smile. “I'll make do.” Whatever he made, he could chill the leftovers, or he could share with someone else in the dorm. Someone had to save Gladio from his diet of pot noodles, or Bert from himself in all culinary matters, after all. “Where are you going?”
“Some restaurant,” Levi answered, pretending that it wasn't of much significance to him. “He couldn't get a table for Friday.”
Ignis smiled at that information. “Somewhere expensive and in demand, then,” he replied, glancing sidelong at Levi. If Levi thought he was hiding his subtle smile, he was sorely mistaken.
“It better be,” he said. “I'll be back tonight,” he added.
Ignis turned at that, raising an eyebrow. “You're not going to his?” Levi's dates were usually overnight affairs, especially lately, although if a table hadn't been available on Friday, perhaps they'd adjusted plans accordingly.
Levi shook his head. “I've got a lecture tomorrow morning,” he pointed out. “Has Nel spoken to you?” he asked.
The kettle flicked off. Obviously it had only recently been boiled, and Ignis prepared his coffee before he answered. “About Christmas planning?” he asked, and answered, “Yes.”
“What do you think?” Levi asked.
Ignis took his cup and cafetiere over to the dining table. “Christmas dinner might be nice,” he conceded, “but I think the decorating is unnecessary.”
Levi made an agreeing noise. “They took half the tin,” he said, “but they still want donations.”
Ignis frowned at that news. Of course, decorating for Christmas didn't come cheap, but neither did feeding eight people on a Sunday. “What have they left us with?” he asked.
Levi shrugged one shoulder as Ignis set his coffee down on the table. “Nearly forty quid,” he answered. Ignis relaxed a little again. At least it was enough for the meat and accoutrements. “They're going to get the tree later this week.”
“I expect they'll be shaking the tin at everyone for decorations, then.” Forty pounds wouldn't go far when you were buying and decorating a tree, although they could certainly get something for that kind of price.
Levi's phone went off and he looked at the screen. Ignis refrained from commenting on the way Levi's face lit up ever so slightly. It was obvious that, whoever his date was, he was smitten. “You're off then?” he asked, matching Levi's smile.
Levi drained the last of his tea and then transferred his empty cup to the sink to be washed. It wasn't like him to leave an unwashed cup, but Ignis doubted he wanted to risk getting dishwater on his shirt. “He's on his way,” Levi answered, looking up. “I'll see you later.”
“Let me know which restaurant he takes you to,” Ignis said, as Levi made his way to the door.
Levi gave a short huff that passed for a laugh. “It had better be out of our price range,” he replied.
Ignis smiled as Levi left. Whoever Levi was seeing had the funds to spoil him, from the sound of things. Or at least, Levi expected that they did. There weren't many he knew that fell into that category, and since Levi would likely remove his arm before he went out with Yylfordt, or Szayel, it was unlikely to be the only two people Ignis could think of that were that well off.
He really would have to quiz him later.
Ignis sat himself by the window with his coffee, after Levi had gone, watching the rain begin to pour down the windowpane. The lights from nearby dormitories peppered the landscape, and Ignis held his coffee in both hands as he enjoyed the relative peace. He had deadlines coming up, but his essays were nearly completed. He needed some more quotes and attributions for some of them, but it wasn't a difficult task to insert those.
A message from his mother lingered, unanswered, on his phone, asking when he was coming home for Christmas. He needed to speak to her, but he also didn't have the energy to do it right now. As much as he loved his parents, he definitely liked them more the less he saw of them.
The kitchen door swung open, and Ignis turned to see who it was. He smiled faintly at the appearance of Gladio.
“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio greeted him, beelining for one of the two fridges and pulling a can of coke from it.
“Good evening,” he replied, watching as Gladio cracked the can open with the same hand in which he held it as if he did that all the time, and immediately took a drink. “That stuff will rot your teeth and your stomach,” he commented, conversationally.
Gladio's throat moved as he swallowed. The weather had turned cold enough that even Gladio, who had lived in sleeveless gym tops up to now, had opted for a hoodie. He looked like a typical gym rat in it. Ignis considered it unfair that he made that look so good. “So will that creosote you're drinking,” Gladio replied, lowering the can and flashing Ignis a grin that proved there was no malice in the needling. “What you up to?” he asked, walking nearer.
Ignis looked away, back out through the window where grey clouds made the sky so dark that sunset was moot. “Watching the rain,” he answered, “and pondering dinner. Levi's out for the evening, so it's just me,” he added. “It's never as much fun cooking for one.”
If Ignis focused on the glass, he could see his reflection in it, and by extension, Gladio's. He could certainly see Gladio's proverbial ears prick up. “Well if you ever want someone to experiment on,” Gladio offered, sounding as carefully sincere as he could, his eyes fixed on the back of Ignis's head.
Ignis laughed, turning to look back at Gladio again. Gladio wore a bright grin that was more than a little reminiscent of a cheeky schoolboy. “I was considering asking Bert,” Ignis said, and watched Gladio react to the perceived rejection by keeping his smile in place even as the amusement behind it dissipated, “but I'm sure I can stretch to three.”
“Yeah?” Gladio asked. Genuine, flattered surprise creept across his face. “I wouldn't want to impose,” he said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the notion, “I was gonna order pizza.”
Ignis couldn't help but smile. “To be honest, there are a few recipes I want to try,” he answered, “but Levi isn't one for messy food. Would you be willing to be my guinea pig?”
Gladio gave a short laugh. “I'm not afraid of getting messy,” he replied. “Count me in."
They recruited Bert as well, and Ignis spent a good portion of the evening making teriyaki chicken skewers, searing them off in a griddle pan before finishing them in the oven. He made a side of rice and vegetables, too, as man couldn't live on protein alone, for all fad diets tried to dictate otherwise.
It seemed to be a successful enough experiment. Gladio enjoyed the skewers immensely, and it cost rather less than a pizza would have. Bert enjoyed them too, even if his reaction to being invited to join Ignis for dinner was to blush and defend that he had a ready meal he could throw in the oven, something that not even he could get wrong.
It made for a pleasant evening. Gladio promised that when the summer came round again they'd have a barbecue, and Ignis could try cooking a selection of his recipes on an open flame, or at least on hot coals. The idea held a certain appeal, not just because of the implied flattery that was Gladio wishing to try Ignis's cooking again, but also because of the promise of summer evenings spent together with the scent of barbecues and cut grass, even if Gladio didn't mean it that way.
It was nearly eleven before Levi returned to the dorm. He walked into the kitchen looking rather less put together than he'd left, with his top button unfastened, and a jacket slung over his shoulders that was at least four sizes too big for him. Ignis was making his final coffee of the day before he retired for the night, and greeted Levi with a slight smirk. “I was just about to send out the search party,” he commented.
“Ha.” Levi answered, flatly. Despite his tone there was a hint of colour in his face that betrayed him.
Ignis smiled, leaning back against the worktop as Levi made his way to the kettle. “Good evening?” he asked.
“He took me to Crafthouse,” Levi answered, looking quite pleased with his answer. “You'd like it,” he added. “Everything looked like something off the Great British Menu.”
Ignis grinned at Levi's explanation. “It sounds out of my price range.”
“It might have been out of his,” Levi added, with a faint smirk. He gripped the edge of the jacket and tucked it a little more securely onto his shoulders. It was definitely a few sizes too big, and threatening to slide off as Levi moved to make himself a cup of tea. “But I'll make it worth it this weekend.”
Ignis tried not to grimace at the comment, and the implications therein. Levi was hardly shy of that sort of thing, but Ignis still was. “On top of returning his jacket?” he asked, sidling closer to reach for the kettle and hot water before Levi commandeered it for his own purposes. A waft of something familiar crept into Ignis's nostrils.
“It's cold out there,” Levi pointed out. The fact that he waited for Ignis to pour the hot water into his cafetiere spoke volumes about his current good mood.
Ignis murmured agreeably, and inhaled again. It was a pleasant scent, dark and slightly woody, but not, he had to admit, something he'd have associated with Levi. In fact, he knew exactly who he associated it with. “Are you wearing aftershave?” he asked, just in case.
“No,” Levi answered, and then pulled the lapel of the jacket nearer to his nose and inhaled. “That's his. I should ask him what it's called.”
Ignis inhaled again, and held his breath. Levi had been very cagey with information about who his date was; he'd never once named the man, and he'd been secretive enough about them being a man. Just about all Ignis knew about him was that he had blue eyes, lived in permanent housing somewhere in the vicinity, had reason to be present on the campus midweek, and, apparently, that he wore this aftershave.
“I've smelled it before,” Ignis said, softly. Levi looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and Ignis pressed on. “My history lecturer wears it,” he said, “Erwin Smith. He was wearing it this afternoon.”
For a split second Levi didn't move, and then he kept his gaze fixed squarely on his tea as he said, “What a coincidence.” Levi didn't look up from his teapot as he added the water, and then placed the lid to allow it to brew.
“Levi,” Ignis said, when Levi seemed determined to make no move to acknowledge where the conversation was heading, “are you dating my professor?”
Levi glanced at him. Ignis could see the tension in his neck, and the scowl crossing his lips. “You could take that nose to the circus."
“You're dating my professor,” Ignis repeated, letting the words transform into an accusation.
“Not so loud!” Levi hissed, giving a brief guilty glance over his shoulder towards the door. “I didn't know he was your professor,” he defended.
Ignis drew breath. His skin felt like it was prickling, and the world swam with his thoughts as they battled for supremacy. “It doesn't matter that he's mine,” he hissed. “He's a teacher. He could be fired and you could be expelled for that!”
Levi straightened up, and waved his hand, urging Ignis to keep his voice down. “No we can't,” he asserted. “I checked,” he added, before Ignis could argue. “He's not my professor, so there's no conflict of interest and we're both consenting adults, so no one can do anything.”
“He's a teacher,” Ignis repeated, vehemently. “Why would you keep it quiet if there's nothing wrong with it?”
“In case people react like you!” Levi hissed back. He huffed, and drew himself up to his full height, which was still several inches shorter than Ignis. “Yeah, he's a teacher, and I'm a student, but we're under different departments that don't cross over, and I'm not a kid, Ignis.”
Ignis scowled, his coffee temporarily forgotten. Levi, his best friend, was sleeping with Professor Smith. It was a lot to try and wrap his head around. “You may be in different departments,” he pointed out, “but you're my friend, and he's my teacher. You don't think someone could make that into a conflict of interest?”
Levi wrinkled his nose. “Not unless you plan to start paying me to blow him to give you good grades,” he retorted.
Ignis scowled, taking half a step back from Levi. “Don't be crass,” he replied, “you know the point I'm making.”
“Yeah,” Levi conceded, stubbornly, “but it's not like I went round and picked one of your professors deliberately. I liked him. I gave him my number. He didn't even know I was a student until the first date. I'm older than you,” he pointed out, “it's not like I look like a teenager.”
Ignis felt the air rush out of him, along with most of his energy to keep up the righteous indignation. It was all too easy for him to forget, sometimes, that Levi was older.
“I like him,” Levi continued. “None of the rest is anyone else's business.”
Ignis frowned. He wanted to keep protesting. Teachers and students shouldn't be associating that way, even in an environment like this where the students were all, technically speaking, legal adults. They were old enough to drink, and drive, and vote, and get into tremendous amounts of debt. His brain still railed against the idea because of the power imbalance between the two positions, but Levi was right, he was older still than even them. Who were his options? Teenagers three years younger than himself; students his own age who would be departing university soon; busy postgraduates; and faculty. Short of meeting strange men in bars, it would be difficult to meet someone his own age from outside the university.
“But a teacher, Levi,” he repeated, softly. He couldn't bring himself to move past that point, for all it made an awful sort of sense.
“He's not going to stop being a professor just because you keep repeating that he's a professor,” Levi pointed out, sick of hearing the point made over and over.
Ignis took a moment to depress the plunger on his coffee. It had probably been long enough by now. He hoped it had, anyway. Then he sighed. “Did you plan on keeping it secret all year?” he asked, glancing at Levi.
Levi gave an unhappy shrug. “I'd have told you eventually,” he muttered.
Ignis raised an eyebrow. He didn't bother to hide his skepticism. “Did you intend to break the news at the same time as you planned to tell me you were seeing a man?”
Levi gave an exasperated sigh, and Ignis replayed his words to himself. He was being bitchy, he realised, and his shock at finding out Levi was dating his professor didn't warrant that. “I'm sorry,” he said, looking down at his coffee, and tapping his glasses a little higher up his nose. “That was uncalled for.” He shook his head and placed his hands flat on the counter, either side of his empty cup.
“Do you blame me for not telling you?” Levi asked.
Ignis studied his hands, trying to keep the tension out of his jaw. Would he have told Levi if he was dating a man? Certainly. Would he have told Levi he was dating one of Levi's own professors? “No,” he admitted.
He busied himself with pouring his coffee and glanced surreptitiously at Levi, who was scowling into his tea as if he expected an answer from it. “I knew you'd freak,” Levi muttered, “I didn't want you to freak,” he added eventually, turning to look up at Ignis.
Ignis allowed himself a rueful smile. 'Freak' wasn't the half of it, judging by the uncomfortable, rolling feel of his insides. “I suppose this is why you didn't tell me the person you were seeing was male?” he asked. The less details he had, the less likely he would have been to work it out, after all. As it was, the few details he did have were only enough for him to connect the dots by freak chance. If he hadn't smelled Smith's cologne, he wouldn't have realised.
Levi gave a small shrug. “What would you have figured if you'd thought I was dating a woman and came home smelling of aftershave that's not mine?”
“That she'd bought you some,” Ignis admitted. “Or possibly that she favours masculine scents.”
Levi gave a small, half-amused huff at the admission. “Like Apache?” he asked, offering Ignis a wry smirk and a lighter note to the conversation.
Ignis took it, gratefully. His mind wouldn't stop snagging on the fact Levi had been dating Professor Smith, but catching on that same point over and over wasn't helpful. “I think Smith's taste is rather more expensive than Apache's,” Ignis replied, flashing a tiny, crooked smile back. “Unless he secretly wears Lynx when he isn't in history lectures?” he asked. Apache did, if it had been cheaper to buy than Impulse, or whatever the female equivalent of a nasal sledgehammer was called.
Levi grimaced and grunted with disgust.
“Perhaps I'll buy him a gift set for Christmas?” Ignis posited. The tension was seeping slowly out of the air.
Levi's upper lip curled, and his eyes held a hint of threat. “If you do,” he warned, “I'm going to buy some for Gladio.”
Ignis grimaced. The idea of Gladio smelling of Lynx Apollo, not that the particular label made much difference when it all smelled equally terrible, was unfortunate. “Don't ruin him for me,” he replied, with a pleading frown.
Levi snorted quietly. “It's better than him smelling like farm.”
Gladio did not smell like farm. Ignis was quite sure of that, but he refused to rise to Gladio's defence because that was precisely what Levi wanted him to do. “Fine,” he said, “then I'll buy Smith another terrible Christmas jumper for his apparent collection.”
Wary stillness fell over Levi. “His what?”
Ignis couldn't help his triumphant smirk. Obviously, Smith hadn't shown this side of himself to someone he was trying to impress. Although the idea that Smith was actively trying to impress Levi was alien and uncomfortable. “His Christmas jumper collection,” he repeated.
Levi looked like someone that had put a foot down on the floor and heard a dangerous click, and was now wary of lifting their foot back up in case something went off. “I'm going to regret asking, aren't I?”
Ignis smiled like a knife. “The one he was wearing today lit up,” he explained. “He says he has one that sings.”
The look that crept across Levi's face could only be described as pained. “He's such a fucking dork,” he muttered.
“I'll get you a picture,” Ignis promised, his smile coming much more easily now. “He's promised to wear a different one to every lecture.”
Levi scowled like it was himself that was going to be humiliated, rather than Smith. “Are you on snapchat?” he asked.
Ignis shook his head. He'd heard of it, but never had cause to use it. He'd never had friends to use it with. “No,” he answered.
Levi gave a nod at the answer. “Good, at least I won't have to be embarrassed by him in real time.”
Ignis gave a short laugh, transferring his empty cafetiere to the sink to wash in the morning, and picked up his coffee. “We might have to see about that,” he warned, internally vowing to download snapchat as soon as he got back to his room. He caught his lower lip between his teeth for a second before he ventured, “For what it's worth, I'm glad you're happy.”
Levi looked at him, and then turned away to attend to his tea. “Thanks,” he said, seeming uncomfortable with the genuine sentiment.
Ignis took it as his cue to exit, and gave Levi one last nod before he left. “Good night.”
Sometimes Levi would spend an entire evening working across the table from Ignis in relative silence, and sometimes Ignis would share the space with Nel, Apache, or Annie. Their table of choice might move, from the rows of computers and the e-library to buried deep in a forgotten nook, and even when Ignis didn't need to venture among the shelves proper he'd sometimes travel with them for the company.
He was working on a set of photocopied pages from a book at a table buried among the contemporary history shelves when Nel's phone rang out the marker for thirty minutes and she stretched. Ignis took the alarm going off as a signal to take a few moments himself; he could study in marathon sessions, but things were definitely more easily absorbed if he took breaks.
Nel reached for the ceiling as Ignis flexed his wrist. “How much is in the coffer this week?” she asked, noticing that Ignis had abandoned his reading and highlighting for a few minutes.
“Honestly,” Ignis answered, “I hadn't checked.” They'd had enough in the Sunday tin to pay for a lavish dinner twice over, but that didn't mean the figure had increased since last week. “We don't usually open it until this evening. Why?”
Nel tilted her head and shrugged one shoulder. “I was just thinking we should decorate for Christmas,” she said.
Ignis frowned. “None of us will be here,” he pointed out. The university shut down for a week over Christmas, with the dorms emptying out of students usually until the beginning of the next term. Ignis was only going home for the mandatory week where they weren't permitted in the dorms, but he'd likely be alone on campus for most of the rest of the holiday.
“So?” Nel asked, giving him a thoroughly unhappy frown. “We can still get in the festive spirit.”
Ignis frowned. Christmas was, in his experience, more of a hassle than a celebration. It had been wonderful when he was a young child, and he remembered well the joys of baking in the week before Christmas, and decorating the tree on Christmas Eve. As he'd got older the sparkle had gone out of the season, and it had become more about being pushed to the confessional every Sunday, and dragged to midnight Mass. “I don't know,” he said, hesitantly. If Nel was bringing it up in relation to the Sunday tin, then it was obvious she wanted to use some of that money.
“Oh come on,” Nel pleaded, leaning across the table. “Wouldn't it be nice if we had a Christmas dinner together before we split up for the holiday?”
Ignis found himself torn. The idea of a Christmas dinner with Levi, Bert, Gladio, and the others was appealing. As was the notion of enjoying a secular Christmas, instead of the one mired in Catholic tradition that he was in for at home. Still, he had reservations. “That's a lot of work, Nel,” he said, “and we should have made the pudding already.”
Nel sighed at his answer and sat back in her chair with a huff. “So you're not up for it?” she asked, with obvious disappointment.
Ignis fought against his urge to agree just to wipe away Nel's disappointment. “I didn't say that,” he said, “but it is a lot of work.”
“So's every Sunday,” Nel replied, with a flash of a cheeky grin. It disappeared as she turned back to pleading. “If everyone else agrees would you join us?”
Ignis sighed, quietly. “Of course I would,” he answered. He could hardly refuse. His own guilt at being a Scrooge would overpower him first, and if everyone else wanted to celebrate he wasn't prepared to be the one stopping them.
Nel brightened up considerably. “Great,” she said. “Apache and I can get the decorations this week.”
Ignis realised he'd been talked into agreeing without ever actually giving his explicit agreement, but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. They pulled together to make dinner together every Sunday, the others operating on Ignis's instruction under Levi's guidance. Surely they could manage a Christmas dinner together the same way? “I suppose if we let people know the money is going towards decorations,” he conceded, softly. “What about gifts?” he asked, more hesitantly.
Nel shook her head. “We already talked about that,” she said, without clarifying who 'we' was. “It's unfair to expect us all to get presents for each other; we're not all loaded. But if we wanted to get something for someone in particular, that's between us.”
Ignis gave a thoughtful nod as he considered that. 'We' was likely Nel, Gladio, and Apache, although he doubted that Levi and Bert would object to the decision.
He'd have to get Levi a present. Levi had become Ignis's best friend in the past few weeks, and it would feel improper not to get him something. Ignis couldn't afford to get anything for anyone else, but if a shared dinner would suffice in place of something trite like a secret Santa exchange than it was all the better. “All right,” he said, finally. “But don't go overboard with the decorations,” he advised, “we won't be here for most of Christmas to enjoy them.”
Despite his reservations, Ignis still made his way down to his afternoon history lecture with plans for a Christmas dinner forming in his mind. He'd have to look up a few stuffing recipes; the one his mother preferred was bland and didn't really bring out the flavour of the meat, and they'd have to get a turkey from somewhere. The butcher Ignis was forming a regular relationship with would be able to get one, of course, but ordering one for before Christmas might be trickier.
Ignis would prefer not to get a frozen bird if it could be helped. Frozen meat lost its texture unless it had been frozen properly, and thawed with care.
That was assuming everyone would enjoy turkey. Perhaps it would be best to put it to a vote, as they did with the Sunday dinner meat options? Most of them would be returning home to a Christmas dinner that comprised of turkey with all the trimmings, after all. There could be such a thing as too much turkey.
Ignis began to sketch out an approximate shopping list while he waited for the professor to arrive. Turkey went at the top, question marked, just in case. Ham and goose were marked as alternative options beside it. Then it was sprouts, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, goose fat, chipolata sausages and streaky bacon for pigs in blankets, onions, stuffing, and gravy.
There was also the matter of the pudding. It wasn't a Christmas dinner without a Christmas pudding, and yet they were too late to make one from scratch lest it turn out subpar. A proper pud needed the time to mature in the brandy. Ignis loathed the idea of simply buying a pre-made pudding, but perhaps needs must on this occasion.
He was distracted from his list making when Professor Smith entered the lecture hall. Typically the man was well turned out in a shirt and trousers, and with his blue eyes, blond hair, and relatively well cut physique, there was the look of Captain America about him. Ignis hadn't seen the films, but he'd seen the adverts and heard the muttered comments among the students often enough to find he agreed. He quite liked Professor Smith; he was a commanding presence who had a passion for his subject that Ignis found infectious. History was one of his electives; Understanding politics, vocational politics, research skills, and classical political thought were his first year requirements, but history was the one he'd chosen in supplement to those, and it was proving a favourite.
Ignis took a second look at Smith when he entered the lecture hall, as did the other fifty students in the class. The man was wearing a bright red jumper emblazoned with a giant, knitted Christmas tree. What appeared to be real tinsel hung off it.
“Good afternoon!” Professor Smith called, when he reached his usual talking spot at the front of the room. A camera flashed to Ignis's right, and Ignis glanced over to the source to see one of the other students taking a picture with her phone.
Professor Smith's smile could have illuminated the room, not that it needed to. A second and then third camera flash went off. Ignis watched as a Professor that he had, up to now, respected brought his hand up to press his thumb against one knitted bauble. Each of the knitted lights on the jumper began to flash; coloured LEDS embedded in the material mimicked the flickering fairy lights of a real Christmas tree.
More cameras flashed around Ignis. After a few seconds that seemed to last an interminably long time the flashing lights on the jumper died away.
“Do it with the lights off!” called one student.
“At the end,” Professor Smith replied, and added, “if you're good.”
“Are you going to wear that all month, sir?” called the girl that had first raised her phone to take a picture. Ignis was reasonably sure she'd recorded the light show, too.
To Ignis's relief, Smith shook his head. He ruined it, however, when he explained, “I have a different one for every lecture, but you'll only get to see them all if you impress me.”
Ignis cringed in his seat. He'd never felt so torn about the future of his academic performance before. On the one hand he wished to do well, and on the other, he didn't want Professor Smith thinking he had to wear those awful jumpers for the whole month, or at least what remained of it in the academic year.
“One of them sings,” Smith added, happily. Ripples of conversation and laughter went around the room, and Ignis noted how many students were more engaged with their phones than with what was being said. “But if you're going to see that,” he added, “I need to see every face that's here today in every lecture until January.”
Which was quite clever, when Ignis thought about it. The attendance rate in lectures had dropped off after the first couple of weeks, and there were some students whom Ignis hadn't seen since. Of course, some of them had likely changed their subject, and others may have dropped out, as they'd been warned many did in the first couple of weeks. Changing one's degree program wasn't out of the question so long as one made the decision early enough. But even after that two weeks grace period, attendance had dropped, and now some of Ignis's lectures could have as few as ten people in them.
The afternoon lectures were usually better populated, like this one. It was typically the fullest history lecture Ignis had in the weekly schedule. As the weather turned, it probably became harder to get bottoms in seats. The lure of warm beds overpowered the urge to learn.
The mood in the class had certainly shifted. There was a whisper of determination among the rows. Attending lectures had been made into a challenge, with the reward being the witnessing of a professor looking thoroughly ridiculous. Ignis wondered what other conditions might be applied. 'If you're good' could mean more than merely 'if you attend'.
He had to wait until the end of the lecture to find out. “If you stop by my desk on your way out,” Smith declared, as their hour and a half drew to a close and the students packed away laptops and notepads, “you can collect your next reading pack.”
The curriculum they'd been given at the start of the year had detailed what each lecture would be about, as well as the various essay topics and deadlines. The next deadline for history was the end of January, but that only gave them five weeks of lectures until then. Not that Ignis objected; the need to attend to essays was going to be the excuse he gave to his mother for why he was spending as little time at home this Christmas as he reasonably could. The dorms opened back up just after the New Year, before Twelfth Night, and Ignis already knew his mother wouldn't be keen on him departing for university again before Christmas was really over unless he had very good reason to return.
He lingered at his desk, finishing off some notes before he packed them back into his bag and ventured down to the front. Smith greeted him with a smile as he held the reading pack towards Ignis. Ignis could smell the faint waft of his cologne, as if he'd applied it fresh just before the lecture. He hoped Smith wasn't going out dressed like that. “At least I'll have one student that will attend everything,” he said.
Ignis bowed his head as he took the pack from Smith. “You shouldn't have to go to such lengths to encourage attendance,” he commented. The pack was deceptively heavy in his hands. Some professors gave their students a list of books that could be found in the library that contained relevant chapters that students could photocopy, and some put them on the e-library. The downside was that copying or printing those required paying fees. Smith was the only lecturer Ignis had that handed out hardcopies to students that wanted them, for no charge.
It had been less of a surprise than it would have been since Ignis knew he also regularly topped off the Pay It Forward board in Ebony. The number of drinks on the board was falling rapidly as the end of term approached, and brought with it the need to make the last of a loan payment stretch. Ignis had only sold PIF drinks to professors last week, but it had been more professors than before. Leonis had put two coffees on the board on Saturday.
“You don't think it's festive?” Smith asked, and looked for all the world genuinely disappointed at the possibility.
Ignis tried to think of a way to respond that would be truthful without telling Smith that he looked ridiculous. He settled on, “My family are Catholic. Festive, to me, is advent candles and extra confession.” And the firm reminder that God gave his Son for our sins, he thought, and that Mary was definitely a virgin, despite pregnancy serving as evidence to the contrary in every other case in history.
Seriousness swept over Smith's expression. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to disrespect your faith,” he said.
Ignis couldn't help but laugh. “My family are Catholic,” he explained, “I'm an atheist. You can make light of Christmas all you wish, for me.”
A smile broke out across Smith's face. “Was that an intentional pun?” he asked.
Ignis glanced down at the LEDs on Smith's jumper and realised what he'd just said. “No,” he admitted, finding it difficult to keep a straight face.
Smith's smile didn't fade. “That's a shame,” he said, “it was a good one. If you have any problems with the essay topic or want any further reading material, you know where to find me, don't you?” he asked, shifting back to the topic of Ignis's studies.
“Of course,” Ignis replied, opening his bag again to tuck the reading pack into it.
A freezing wind was whipping up when Ignis left the building. He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself. It was getting too cold for the autumn coat he had, now. He was going to have to consider going out to get one for winter. That would mean checking his bank balance, and potentially some strict budgeting for the rest of the month.
When he got back to the dorm, Levi was in the kitchen making himself a tea. He was dressed in pressed trousers and a pristine white shirt. “Going out?” Ignis asked, heading straight for the kettle and preparing his cafetiere. His hands were halfway to numb, aching with the cold, and he longed for something hot and caffeinated.
“Got a date,” Levi answered, his voice low and matter of fact. “He's picking me up in half an hour.”
“I'm on my own for dinner, then,” Ignis responded. He and Levi usually shared their meals when they were both in. It was far more cost effective to buy for two than for two people to buy for one, and saved Ignis from having to freeze fresh ingredients to prevent them going stale, or sour. He disliked freezing things unless he had no other choice.
“Sorry,” Levi answered, cradling his tea in his hands.
“Don't be,” Ignis answered, flashing Levi a smile. “I'll make do.” Whatever he made, he could chill the leftovers, or he could share with someone else in the dorm. Someone had to save Gladio from his diet of pot noodles, or Bert from himself in all culinary matters, after all. “Where are you going?”
“Some restaurant,” Levi answered, pretending that it wasn't of much significance to him. “He couldn't get a table for Friday.”
Ignis smiled at that information. “Somewhere expensive and in demand, then,” he replied, glancing sidelong at Levi. If Levi thought he was hiding his subtle smile, he was sorely mistaken.
“It better be,” he said. “I'll be back tonight,” he added.
Ignis turned at that, raising an eyebrow. “You're not going to his?” Levi's dates were usually overnight affairs, especially lately, although if a table hadn't been available on Friday, perhaps they'd adjusted plans accordingly.
Levi shook his head. “I've got a lecture tomorrow morning,” he pointed out. “Has Nel spoken to you?” he asked.
The kettle flicked off. Obviously it had only recently been boiled, and Ignis prepared his coffee before he answered. “About Christmas planning?” he asked, and answered, “Yes.”
“What do you think?” Levi asked.
Ignis took his cup and cafetiere over to the dining table. “Christmas dinner might be nice,” he conceded, “but I think the decorating is unnecessary.”
Levi made an agreeing noise. “They took half the tin,” he said, “but they still want donations.”
Ignis frowned at that news. Of course, decorating for Christmas didn't come cheap, but neither did feeding eight people on a Sunday. “What have they left us with?” he asked.
Levi shrugged one shoulder as Ignis set his coffee down on the table. “Nearly forty quid,” he answered. Ignis relaxed a little again. At least it was enough for the meat and accoutrements. “They're going to get the tree later this week.”
“I expect they'll be shaking the tin at everyone for decorations, then.” Forty pounds wouldn't go far when you were buying and decorating a tree, although they could certainly get something for that kind of price.
Levi's phone went off and he looked at the screen. Ignis refrained from commenting on the way Levi's face lit up ever so slightly. It was obvious that, whoever his date was, he was smitten. “You're off then?” he asked, matching Levi's smile.
Levi drained the last of his tea and then transferred his empty cup to the sink to be washed. It wasn't like him to leave an unwashed cup, but Ignis doubted he wanted to risk getting dishwater on his shirt. “He's on his way,” Levi answered, looking up. “I'll see you later.”
“Let me know which restaurant he takes you to,” Ignis said, as Levi made his way to the door.
Levi gave a short huff that passed for a laugh. “It had better be out of our price range,” he replied.
Ignis smiled as Levi left. Whoever Levi was seeing had the funds to spoil him, from the sound of things. Or at least, Levi expected that they did. There weren't many he knew that fell into that category, and since Levi would likely remove his arm before he went out with Yylfordt, or Szayel, it was unlikely to be the only two people Ignis could think of that were that well off.
He really would have to quiz him later.
Ignis sat himself by the window with his coffee, after Levi had gone, watching the rain begin to pour down the windowpane. The lights from nearby dormitories peppered the landscape, and Ignis held his coffee in both hands as he enjoyed the relative peace. He had deadlines coming up, but his essays were nearly completed. He needed some more quotes and attributions for some of them, but it wasn't a difficult task to insert those.
A message from his mother lingered, unanswered, on his phone, asking when he was coming home for Christmas. He needed to speak to her, but he also didn't have the energy to do it right now. As much as he loved his parents, he definitely liked them more the less he saw of them.
The kitchen door swung open, and Ignis turned to see who it was. He smiled faintly at the appearance of Gladio.
“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio greeted him, beelining for one of the two fridges and pulling a can of coke from it.
“Good evening,” he replied, watching as Gladio cracked the can open with the same hand in which he held it as if he did that all the time, and immediately took a drink. “That stuff will rot your teeth and your stomach,” he commented, conversationally.
Gladio's throat moved as he swallowed. The weather had turned cold enough that even Gladio, who had lived in sleeveless gym tops up to now, had opted for a hoodie. He looked like a typical gym rat in it. Ignis considered it unfair that he made that look so good. “So will that creosote you're drinking,” Gladio replied, lowering the can and flashing Ignis a grin that proved there was no malice in the needling. “What you up to?” he asked, walking nearer.
Ignis looked away, back out through the window where grey clouds made the sky so dark that sunset was moot. “Watching the rain,” he answered, “and pondering dinner. Levi's out for the evening, so it's just me,” he added. “It's never as much fun cooking for one.”
If Ignis focused on the glass, he could see his reflection in it, and by extension, Gladio's. He could certainly see Gladio's proverbial ears prick up. “Well if you ever want someone to experiment on,” Gladio offered, sounding as carefully sincere as he could, his eyes fixed on the back of Ignis's head.
Ignis laughed, turning to look back at Gladio again. Gladio wore a bright grin that was more than a little reminiscent of a cheeky schoolboy. “I was considering asking Bert,” Ignis said, and watched Gladio react to the perceived rejection by keeping his smile in place even as the amusement behind it dissipated, “but I'm sure I can stretch to three.”
“Yeah?” Gladio asked. Genuine, flattered surprise creept across his face. “I wouldn't want to impose,” he said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the notion, “I was gonna order pizza.”
Ignis couldn't help but smile. “To be honest, there are a few recipes I want to try,” he answered, “but Levi isn't one for messy food. Would you be willing to be my guinea pig?”
Gladio gave a short laugh. “I'm not afraid of getting messy,” he replied. “Count me in."
They recruited Bert as well, and Ignis spent a good portion of the evening making teriyaki chicken skewers, searing them off in a griddle pan before finishing them in the oven. He made a side of rice and vegetables, too, as man couldn't live on protein alone, for all fad diets tried to dictate otherwise.
It seemed to be a successful enough experiment. Gladio enjoyed the skewers immensely, and it cost rather less than a pizza would have. Bert enjoyed them too, even if his reaction to being invited to join Ignis for dinner was to blush and defend that he had a ready meal he could throw in the oven, something that not even he could get wrong.
It made for a pleasant evening. Gladio promised that when the summer came round again they'd have a barbecue, and Ignis could try cooking a selection of his recipes on an open flame, or at least on hot coals. The idea held a certain appeal, not just because of the implied flattery that was Gladio wishing to try Ignis's cooking again, but also because of the promise of summer evenings spent together with the scent of barbecues and cut grass, even if Gladio didn't mean it that way.
It was nearly eleven before Levi returned to the dorm. He walked into the kitchen looking rather less put together than he'd left, with his top button unfastened, and a jacket slung over his shoulders that was at least four sizes too big for him. Ignis was making his final coffee of the day before he retired for the night, and greeted Levi with a slight smirk. “I was just about to send out the search party,” he commented.
“Ha.” Levi answered, flatly. Despite his tone there was a hint of colour in his face that betrayed him.
Ignis smiled, leaning back against the worktop as Levi made his way to the kettle. “Good evening?” he asked.
“He took me to Crafthouse,” Levi answered, looking quite pleased with his answer. “You'd like it,” he added. “Everything looked like something off the Great British Menu.”
Ignis grinned at Levi's explanation. “It sounds out of my price range.”
“It might have been out of his,” Levi added, with a faint smirk. He gripped the edge of the jacket and tucked it a little more securely onto his shoulders. It was definitely a few sizes too big, and threatening to slide off as Levi moved to make himself a cup of tea. “But I'll make it worth it this weekend.”
Ignis tried not to grimace at the comment, and the implications therein. Levi was hardly shy of that sort of thing, but Ignis still was. “On top of returning his jacket?” he asked, sidling closer to reach for the kettle and hot water before Levi commandeered it for his own purposes. A waft of something familiar crept into Ignis's nostrils.
“It's cold out there,” Levi pointed out. The fact that he waited for Ignis to pour the hot water into his cafetiere spoke volumes about his current good mood.
Ignis murmured agreeably, and inhaled again. It was a pleasant scent, dark and slightly woody, but not, he had to admit, something he'd have associated with Levi. In fact, he knew exactly who he associated it with. “Are you wearing aftershave?” he asked, just in case.
“No,” Levi answered, and then pulled the lapel of the jacket nearer to his nose and inhaled. “That's his. I should ask him what it's called.”
Ignis inhaled again, and held his breath. Levi had been very cagey with information about who his date was; he'd never once named the man, and he'd been secretive enough about them being a man. Just about all Ignis knew about him was that he had blue eyes, lived in permanent housing somewhere in the vicinity, had reason to be present on the campus midweek, and, apparently, that he wore this aftershave.
“I've smelled it before,” Ignis said, softly. Levi looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and Ignis pressed on. “My history lecturer wears it,” he said, “Erwin Smith. He was wearing it this afternoon.”
For a split second Levi didn't move, and then he kept his gaze fixed squarely on his tea as he said, “What a coincidence.” Levi didn't look up from his teapot as he added the water, and then placed the lid to allow it to brew.
“Levi,” Ignis said, when Levi seemed determined to make no move to acknowledge where the conversation was heading, “are you dating my professor?”
Levi glanced at him. Ignis could see the tension in his neck, and the scowl crossing his lips. “You could take that nose to the circus."
“You're dating my professor,” Ignis repeated, letting the words transform into an accusation.
“Not so loud!” Levi hissed, giving a brief guilty glance over his shoulder towards the door. “I didn't know he was your professor,” he defended.
Ignis drew breath. His skin felt like it was prickling, and the world swam with his thoughts as they battled for supremacy. “It doesn't matter that he's mine,” he hissed. “He's a teacher. He could be fired and you could be expelled for that!”
Levi straightened up, and waved his hand, urging Ignis to keep his voice down. “No we can't,” he asserted. “I checked,” he added, before Ignis could argue. “He's not my professor, so there's no conflict of interest and we're both consenting adults, so no one can do anything.”
“He's a teacher,” Ignis repeated, vehemently. “Why would you keep it quiet if there's nothing wrong with it?”
“In case people react like you!” Levi hissed back. He huffed, and drew himself up to his full height, which was still several inches shorter than Ignis. “Yeah, he's a teacher, and I'm a student, but we're under different departments that don't cross over, and I'm not a kid, Ignis.”
Ignis scowled, his coffee temporarily forgotten. Levi, his best friend, was sleeping with Professor Smith. It was a lot to try and wrap his head around. “You may be in different departments,” he pointed out, “but you're my friend, and he's my teacher. You don't think someone could make that into a conflict of interest?”
Levi wrinkled his nose. “Not unless you plan to start paying me to blow him to give you good grades,” he retorted.
Ignis scowled, taking half a step back from Levi. “Don't be crass,” he replied, “you know the point I'm making.”
“Yeah,” Levi conceded, stubbornly, “but it's not like I went round and picked one of your professors deliberately. I liked him. I gave him my number. He didn't even know I was a student until the first date. I'm older than you,” he pointed out, “it's not like I look like a teenager.”
Ignis felt the air rush out of him, along with most of his energy to keep up the righteous indignation. It was all too easy for him to forget, sometimes, that Levi was older.
“I like him,” Levi continued. “None of the rest is anyone else's business.”
Ignis frowned. He wanted to keep protesting. Teachers and students shouldn't be associating that way, even in an environment like this where the students were all, technically speaking, legal adults. They were old enough to drink, and drive, and vote, and get into tremendous amounts of debt. His brain still railed against the idea because of the power imbalance between the two positions, but Levi was right, he was older still than even them. Who were his options? Teenagers three years younger than himself; students his own age who would be departing university soon; busy postgraduates; and faculty. Short of meeting strange men in bars, it would be difficult to meet someone his own age from outside the university.
“But a teacher, Levi,” he repeated, softly. He couldn't bring himself to move past that point, for all it made an awful sort of sense.
“He's not going to stop being a professor just because you keep repeating that he's a professor,” Levi pointed out, sick of hearing the point made over and over.
Ignis took a moment to depress the plunger on his coffee. It had probably been long enough by now. He hoped it had, anyway. Then he sighed. “Did you plan on keeping it secret all year?” he asked, glancing at Levi.
Levi gave an unhappy shrug. “I'd have told you eventually,” he muttered.
Ignis raised an eyebrow. He didn't bother to hide his skepticism. “Did you intend to break the news at the same time as you planned to tell me you were seeing a man?”
Levi gave an exasperated sigh, and Ignis replayed his words to himself. He was being bitchy, he realised, and his shock at finding out Levi was dating his professor didn't warrant that. “I'm sorry,” he said, looking down at his coffee, and tapping his glasses a little higher up his nose. “That was uncalled for.” He shook his head and placed his hands flat on the counter, either side of his empty cup.
“Do you blame me for not telling you?” Levi asked.
Ignis studied his hands, trying to keep the tension out of his jaw. Would he have told Levi if he was dating a man? Certainly. Would he have told Levi he was dating one of Levi's own professors? “No,” he admitted.
He busied himself with pouring his coffee and glanced surreptitiously at Levi, who was scowling into his tea as if he expected an answer from it. “I knew you'd freak,” Levi muttered, “I didn't want you to freak,” he added eventually, turning to look up at Ignis.
Ignis allowed himself a rueful smile. 'Freak' wasn't the half of it, judging by the uncomfortable, rolling feel of his insides. “I suppose this is why you didn't tell me the person you were seeing was male?” he asked. The less details he had, the less likely he would have been to work it out, after all. As it was, the few details he did have were only enough for him to connect the dots by freak chance. If he hadn't smelled Smith's cologne, he wouldn't have realised.
Levi gave a small shrug. “What would you have figured if you'd thought I was dating a woman and came home smelling of aftershave that's not mine?”
“That she'd bought you some,” Ignis admitted. “Or possibly that she favours masculine scents.”
Levi gave a small, half-amused huff at the admission. “Like Apache?” he asked, offering Ignis a wry smirk and a lighter note to the conversation.
Ignis took it, gratefully. His mind wouldn't stop snagging on the fact Levi had been dating Professor Smith, but catching on that same point over and over wasn't helpful. “I think Smith's taste is rather more expensive than Apache's,” Ignis replied, flashing a tiny, crooked smile back. “Unless he secretly wears Lynx when he isn't in history lectures?” he asked. Apache did, if it had been cheaper to buy than Impulse, or whatever the female equivalent of a nasal sledgehammer was called.
Levi grimaced and grunted with disgust.
“Perhaps I'll buy him a gift set for Christmas?” Ignis posited. The tension was seeping slowly out of the air.
Levi's upper lip curled, and his eyes held a hint of threat. “If you do,” he warned, “I'm going to buy some for Gladio.”
Ignis grimaced. The idea of Gladio smelling of Lynx Apollo, not that the particular label made much difference when it all smelled equally terrible, was unfortunate. “Don't ruin him for me,” he replied, with a pleading frown.
Levi snorted quietly. “It's better than him smelling like farm.”
Gladio did not smell like farm. Ignis was quite sure of that, but he refused to rise to Gladio's defence because that was precisely what Levi wanted him to do. “Fine,” he said, “then I'll buy Smith another terrible Christmas jumper for his apparent collection.”
Wary stillness fell over Levi. “His what?”
Ignis couldn't help his triumphant smirk. Obviously, Smith hadn't shown this side of himself to someone he was trying to impress. Although the idea that Smith was actively trying to impress Levi was alien and uncomfortable. “His Christmas jumper collection,” he repeated.
Levi looked like someone that had put a foot down on the floor and heard a dangerous click, and was now wary of lifting their foot back up in case something went off. “I'm going to regret asking, aren't I?”
Ignis smiled like a knife. “The one he was wearing today lit up,” he explained. “He says he has one that sings.”
The look that crept across Levi's face could only be described as pained. “He's such a fucking dork,” he muttered.
“I'll get you a picture,” Ignis promised, his smile coming much more easily now. “He's promised to wear a different one to every lecture.”
Levi scowled like it was himself that was going to be humiliated, rather than Smith. “Are you on snapchat?” he asked.
Ignis shook his head. He'd heard of it, but never had cause to use it. He'd never had friends to use it with. “No,” he answered.
Levi gave a nod at the answer. “Good, at least I won't have to be embarrassed by him in real time.”
Ignis gave a short laugh, transferring his empty cafetiere to the sink to wash in the morning, and picked up his coffee. “We might have to see about that,” he warned, internally vowing to download snapchat as soon as he got back to his room. He caught his lower lip between his teeth for a second before he ventured, “For what it's worth, I'm glad you're happy.”
Levi looked at him, and then turned away to attend to his tea. “Thanks,” he said, seeming uncomfortable with the genuine sentiment.
Ignis took it as his cue to exit, and gave Levi one last nod before he left. “Good night.”
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I bet Ignis is going to be unhappy when he remembers the stuff mentioned in the last fic. XD