Luke's Diner; Tuesday [01/13].

[chef_chocobro]

One thing about having a partner who was dealing with some sleeping troubles was that it meant that Ignis also now shared in some of those sleeping troubles, even with his and Liliana's often disparate sleeping schedules. But just as she was, unfortunately, hardly a stranger to fitful dreams, he had spent nearly a decade on the very edge of sleep, prepared for whatever darkness might lurk beyond.

Also, he had coffee.

Coffee of which was in blissfully high supply at Luke's, and that he was clinging to extensively that Tuesday.

Well. Even more than...

Okay, it wasn't really that much different than how much coffee he drank on an average Tuesday, but there was, perhaps, more deeply grateful sighs after sips than was strictly typical.

Today's Specials

Coffee-Marinated Flank Steak Fajitas
Chipotle Coffee Tofu Wrap
Coffee Cake

Luke's is open!

Comments

[deathsmajesty]

If Ignis needed proof of just how poor her sleep had become (and he did not but if), the lack of fanfare announcing her arrival was likely more than enough. The door opened and closed with no announcements, no drama, not even a pause to ensure everyone had a chance to admire her, and footfalls - neither the near silence of her usual step nor the pointed stride of power - headed in his direction. Honestly, if it weren't for her perfume, it wouldn't have been surprising if Ignis hadn't realized* who was making their way to his counter, taking actual steps rather than seeming to almost dance her way to him.

Never mind that it was several hours before he would usually expect to see her. It wasn't entirely out of the question for Liliana to arrive several hours away from her general time to visit, but those were almost uniformly in the opposite direction.

"Hello, my darling," she said, leaning across the counter to lace her fingers through his. "For once, I have a request of you, though I don't think you'll protest overmuch."


* (Okay, yes, it would, in fact, be surprising for Ignis to not know, but we're allowed a little exaggeration. As a treat.)

[chef_chocobro]

Why, the mere pull he felt toward the door the moment it was opened alone...

But the earliest of Liliana's arrival did throw Ignis a little bit, that crease of concern in his forehead deepening with the pure quiet mundanity of the entrance. There was a full mug waiting for her when she arrived at the counter, though set aside, as hands were clearly taking priority.

"I shall still insist upon my right to object," he noted, but with that soft and gentle smile to assure her it would have to be on the level of suggesting he switch to decaf to make him so contrartian, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, "but of course, my love, what is it?"

[deathsmajesty]

"Precisely this," Liliana said, raising the mug to her lips. He'd added the spoonful of cinnamon syrup that she favored and the just the right amount of milk (of course he had), and she found herself taking several long swallows before she set it aside (briefly) to tug him in for a much-delayed kiss of greeting.

Dreadful, to go for a coffee before a kiss, but she felt certain that she was kissing the one of the few men who would understand that impetus.

Once, anyway. A second time might be a stretch.

"And a sip, sometime later, of Ebony," she added.

[chef_chocobro]

A sip if coffee before a kiss only meant that the kiss then tasted like coffee, and who was Ignis to complain about a thing like that? If he had, it would surely be proof positive that something had gone horribly wrong.

And if anyone needed proof positive of just how deep his love for Liliana ran, consider the next statement to come out of his mouth:

"A whole can of it, even, if you so desire.

"But now I, I'm afraid..."

And he paused a moment, for her to have another drink before kissing her again and continuing.

"...would like to make a request of you in return."

[deathsmajesty]

It did help that his supply was no longer rationed, though, surely.

"Only if I get to kiss you after every sip," she murmured, her fingers still firmly laced with his. "I'm listening...and hoping that this request is something deliciously wicked, of course."

Not exactly untrue (she was tired, not dead!), but certainly more reflexive banter than anything else.

[chef_chocobro]

"Well," Ignis stated, "if those are the requirements, then let's make it a case."

A can for Liliana all her own even in a time of scarcity? Yes, without hesitation*. But the promise of a case was clearly coming from a position of comfortable abundance.

"And I can't promise wicked," he admitted, "but it will be delicious. Since you're here now, let me make you breakfast, 'Iana." He punctuated the request with a kiss to the back of her hand. "Something big and elaborate and decadent."

And while making Liliana big, elaborate, decadent breakfasts was nothing out of the ordinary, being able to do it at Luke's during a proper breakfast time? Well, he'd be terribly remiss if he didn't seize that opportunity, wouldn't he?

_________
*^{Well, perhaps some hesitation...}

[deathsmajesty]

There was only one problem with a big, elaborate, decadent breakfast at Luke's: there was no breakfast nooks to enjoy them - and sundry other delicious, decadent, and elaborate things - in.

Perhaps that simply meant she would have to use her poor sleep as a catalyst for another timely breakfast. At their own house, where there were nooks (and parlors and countertops) aplenty. "I have a counterproposal of my own," she said, stroking a chill finger over his face. "Make enough so you can join me."

[chef_chocobro]

"Well, that," Ignis assured her, and when could her finger trace over his face like that without his lips soon chasing after it? "Was inherent to the plan at its inception. So consider it practically already granted."

[deathsmajesty]

She let his lips catch it, tracing over their patrician shape once it had been suitably kissed.

For the moment, anyway.

"Shall I go find our table then and leave you to it?" she asked, though rather than doing anything of the like, she was leaning in for another (im)proper kiss of her own.

Her fingers weren't allowed all the fun, dammit.