#giddy reader

"You need my assistance with a mundane task such as that? Use the government website—"

"I would, but I forgot my password. Again," Gladio tried to mask the slight embarrassment he felt by crossing his thick biceps against his chest. "I attempted too many times and I am locked out. I have to go to the IT department to get everything reset. Look— that is beside the point. I need to find someone and you are the guy that I find most reliable."

Ignis tilted his head, fingers now intertwining within each other— he held them in front of his face. "Did they cause a problem? Does this need the attention of the authorities?" He sat up, eyeing the situation closer.

"No, I have been training with this individual and they have neglected to show up the past few times. She is a glaive. I wanted to see if she had been deployed and never told me." Gladio approached the desk Ignis sat behind— He leaned forward, palms resting flat on the desk on either side of the Advisor's laptop.

"She?" Ignis questioned, slouching back into the chair again, faint smirk painted onto his lips. "Is this one of your paramours?"

Gladio rolled his eyes, before focusing them back to Ignis. "Careful with your tone, Iggy. Your jealousy is showing."

"Hardly the case. Just shocked is all." Ignis sighed before reaching to type on the computer. He pulled up the website and went to the plug in that displayed the entire employee database. "What is her name?" Ignis asked, eyes not looking up from the glowing screen. Gladio swallowed thickly, big hand finding the back of his neck to scratch the base of his scalp.

"I don't know."

"You don't know her name?" Ignis' tone took on a slight mocking one, his sharp manicured eyebrows knotting with confusion. "Did you not ask her?"

"I have tried. She just… won't give it to me." It was true, he has asked. And if Ignis knew just how many times he had asked— He would have been floored. At least Gladio felt that way. In some sense, he supposed it made sense. You were skeptical of his intentions, figuring he was there to get you in trouble rather than let you slip by fully unscathed. It had been months of this however, and he figured you would pick up his jig at one point or another… He didn't expect you to just— stop showing up.

"Gladio, I figure I shouldn't have to break the news to you. Merely because it is you who has luck with the women.. But if she isn't giving you her name then she isn't interested in your advances." The smirk seemed to grow larger on Ignis' usual stoic face, green eyes firing with a playful and mocking glint.

"Sounds like you heard that a lot." Gladio quirked a challenging eyebrow back— spiteful gaze matching to the caliber of Ignis'. "Plus, it isn't like that. It is a complicated story. I just need to see if she's on the deployed list. That's all."

Ignis bowed his head at the slide as if to accept it and he looked back up. "I don't have access to that documentation."

"You don't? I thought we had access to those lists—"

"No, unless it directly effects the Prince and his whereabouts, we do not have access." Ignis relented while slouching back into his seat. "We would need a higher access to view all of that. If anything, you would need to discuss this with Noctis. He has the capabilities to see everything."

"So, I have to ask Noct."

"Essentially, yes." Ignis was ready to close the window on the computer before Gladio pressed forward. This was a problem.

He sighed with defeat, head falling limp. "I can't go to Noctis. You know that." He pushed himself off of Ignis' desk and rested his hands on his hips; Amber gaze now searching the room for any hidden answers. Gladio knew that Noctis would never let the big guy live it down for being "stood up" or "rejected" Even though that wasn't the case. "Don't you have all of Noctis' login information?" Gladiolus was no stranger to Noctis and his habits. It was known and a constant pressure point between the small knitted group, that Ignis did most of Noctis' work for him. Ignis occasionally played the role of Prince when the actual Prince struggled to do so. Of course when the time called for it. Having Noctis' login information only made sense… For two reasons.

So Ignis can check up on Noctis to make sure he is completing tasks that require his attention.

Noctis has more of a tendency to forget passwords and all of that information. One of them had to brandish responsibility and it might as well be the highly trained, dutiful Advisor.

Ignis once again cocked his head in confusion, now sitting up again in his chair. "Are you asking me to infiltrate the Prince's government profile so you can locate a woman who shows little to no interest in you— all in leu of protecting your pride?" Damn Ignis never did pull any punches.

"Yes. That is exactly what I am asking." The confidence was unyielding, and Gladio stood taller now.

"Very well." Ignis sat up and typed at the computer for a small length of time before slowly turning it to face the Shield. "Here is the list," Ignis deadpanned, elbows digging into the desktop. "Says they are touring the western most Cleigne border. In search for any notions of any enemy military upheaval. Appears they will be returning soon."

The Shield hunched over the laptop and scrolled downward using the mouse pad. He skimmed the pictures, searching for your most prominent features. He skimmed until he neared the bottom and saw your face. He could recognize that smile from anywhere, even though you only gave him such a look a couple of times. He swore he wouldn't forget it. His stomach tensed, eyes slowly moved from your face, to the name in boldface, starting with your last, comma, your first name. He grinned, "Gotcha," His voice fell hushed onto the desk in front of him while studying your name closely.

He felt like he won some sort of unsung battle— like you were a boss that had shown no weakness, but with ample research and many helpful individuals he unlocked your secret. He had finally, at long last, knew your name. Countless battles lead him here and he was satisfied.

"Let me see her," Ignis pried, eyes stretching to the computer. Gladio flipped it around again as if he were showing you off. "Pretty thing she is," He hummed, with a nod of approval.

"She is, and is quite a spit fire to go along with all that hot stuff. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen I can borrow?"

Ignis dug around for a moment, shuffling of papers and clanking of writing utensils seemed to fall on deaf ears— Gladio's intense amber eyes only focused onto you and your name. He mouthed it, repeating it with a whisper as if it were a secret that only he could know. Ignis slid a sticky note and a pen towards Gladio's palm that was pressed onto the desk once more.

"May I ask what you are writing down?"

"Just the information I need, don't you worry about it." It took no time at all for Gladio to scrawl your name and a few other bits of information about you, down on a bright yellow sticky note. He looked at his penmanship, your name written in a sloppy, all capital, print. He knew that only his eyes could read such a mess of words and lines. He smiled at the information, your name falling from his lips once more before standing straight. He peeled the note off of the pad and smiled at it. "Thanks Specs. I owe ya." The sticky end of the note stuck to his fingertips and he fluttered it as he turned to leave.

"I wish you luck, Gladiolus," Ignis slid the pad and pen back into their proper locations, catching the Shield's confident grin as he turned to shut the door.

"Thanks, Iggy."

You were exhausted. In fact, you felt that the word did little justice for the way you felt. Your eyes were heavy, their lids trying to droop shut— if it weren't for the sweltering van you were crammed into, you would have easily drifted into slumber.

You were on a routine surveillance mission that happened every so often. A group of glaives, selected by the Marshal and the General, were sent to scout different areas of Lucis— all in search for any suspicious movement of the Niflheim military. This was always randomized, and you almost figured it would be you. It had been a few months since you were sent out, and it was only a matter of time before you were called again to do your time. Many people called these trips, deployments— that was the more official term. You were deployed. And damn was it the worst.

There was nothing more damning then riding across the country, crammed into a small, poorly ventilated van; stuffed like sardines with 10 other glaives. Nothing drove you more crazy then crashing into your seat neighbors every time the driver hit a bump or pot hole. You swore at one point, the driver was doing it on purpose. That or the glaive next to you sensed your frustration and craved to piss you off further.

You were almost home, now trailing through the outskirts of Hammerhead; The last outpost until you reached the limits of Insomnia. From the gate, you calculated, you would be home in 40 minutes. You checked the clock on your phone and sighed heavily. 4:15. Your head hit the back of the seat, causing the glaive next to you glance down at you. You paid his strange stare no mind as you began to mentally wallow in your own misfortune.

It would take you two hours at the earliest to get back to the Citadel. You didn't even bother to factor in rush hour traffic. Your exhaustion seemed to overtake your frustration and you swore you would cry if it wasn't for the several witnesses crammed around you, trying to ignore each other.

Around a quarter after 8, you were finally shuffling out of the Citadel with your personal effects tugged over your shoulder. You decided, halfway home while crossing a busy street— Cooking was absolutely not an option for the evening. Your limbs wanted rest, your body wishing to finally crash onto your couch and watch the TV show you had been neglecting. Nothing can sedate your exhaustion and hunger like a bite of fast food. You took a long way home and stopped of at a fast food joint that you frequented.

With your bag of food in one hand, your personal effects slung over the other arm— you shuffled for your keys that seemed to find the deepest depths of your pants pocket. You turned the corner abruptly, finally pulling the keys from your pocket. It almost felt like they grew hands and were tugging on the hem in a fight to stay warm and secure. Your exhausted mind seemed to find that image hilarious, and you stifled your amusement with a sigh and a gentle shake of your head. You gazed down the hall towards your final destination, at long last— wait… what was that?

There on the doorstep was a vase, jutting out was a small assortment of flowers. "Huh?" You shook your head trying to clean your mind. You were looking at the wrong doorstep, you almost laughed. Who the hell would leave you flowers. You smiled at yourself as you moved to the door your apartment stood behind. You stopped at the welcome mat, your jaw going slack when you found that glass vase and flowers sitting at your feet.

Blinking, you checked the worn numbers on your apartment door. Yeah, that was your apartment. Eyebrows knotting together, you dumped your duffle bag onto the floor to your side and knelt in front of the vase. There was a note tied with a ribbon around the dip within the wall of the vase. With a gentle hand you pried the folded note open with your thumb. The note was written in a neat print, the author wrote in all capital letters which was a unique feature. You hadn't seen many people write like that.

Like a forensic scientist, you began to narrow out your options— who owned penmanship like that? Flittering through the Rolex within your mind, you began to make comparisons to everyone you knew. They had to meet three points of criteria:

They needed to know your address.

Legible handwriting.

Had a reason to buy you flowers.

Well, it couldn't have been anyone in the glaive, none of them had your address on hand. And it couldn't have been the date who stood you up almost a month ago— he didn't have that information either. Prompto? No— He had some half cursive half print handwriting that could hardly be understood. You have harped on him for writing in what you deemed to be the Prompto Language. He was never amused by your slide.

If it wasn't any of them… then who the hell..? You opted to forego the guessing game and decided to read what it said. Second way to know who made this mistake. You blinked a few times before starting at the left hand side of the folded note. It read:

"Glad to see your name wasn't in the paper. The Royal Training Room misses their delinquent. Hope to see you soon,—"

Your eyes stopped suddenly on the gentle way your name was written at the end of the final sentence. "Gladio?" You whispered, eyes intently reading the note for any missing clues. You looked at the vase of flowers, and began to shuffle them around for a listening device or something off the wall. "Flowers?" They were just… flowers? Heat struck your cheeks and carefully you unlocked your door and hoisted the vase up to your chest— duffle bag long forgotten in the hallway.

You turned on all the lights leading to the kitchen and rested your food on the table— it too, long forgotten. The bouquet of flowers looked lovely on your kitchen counter. He had picked a variety, but selected ones that seemed to compliment each other— in color as well as shape. Your eyes flickered back to the note clenched tightly in between your fingers.

You read it again, and again, and again; until your eyes began to spin. You tried to swallow, but your throat was entirely too dry. When the sudden shock seemed to subside, a warm smile graced your face. It sparked warmth that climbed your chest and began to ease your limbs and turn them to jelly. The urge to laugh cascaded over you, and with a bright smile, and completely smitten, you nearly floated to the hallway to get your long forgotten belongings.

Gladiolus Amicitia sent you flowers. That sentence didn't make a lick of sense, but everything else did. Your mind was swirling, and the only bit of information you could keep down was the echoing voice of Prompto: He has his reasons. My guess is… he probably enjoys your company.

The next morning, you found yourself nearly rushing to the kitchen hoping that the random gift wasn't a figment of your imagination— or some cruel dream that the gods had teased you with. But the arrangement stood proudly on your counter, note still dangling gently from the ribbon it was fastened to. Your smile widened further and quickly you gathered yourself together for another risky trip to the forbidden training room, despite it being your day off.

You stood taller, at least that's how you felt. At long last, you were smiled upon— your ugly streak of horrible relationships seemed to be behind you now; disappearing in the rearview mirror. You were confident, and flattered; floating on cloud nine as you rounded the corner to the familiar doors of the Royal Training room. With a practiced, swift maneuver, you tapped the key onto the metal receiver. You were rewarded with a satisfying click, signifying your allowance into the locked room. The metal handle of the door snapped as you shoved it open.

You were greeted with Gladio, perched on the bench with his red covered book in his hands. He looked up, amber eyes softening on your smile. "Let me guess," your smile widened as you spoke, watching as his full attention was now on you; Book long forgotten within his lap. "You tapped the flowers?"

He smiled at you while sliding the book into the side pocket in his bag. "Should I have?" He questioned, his eyebrow finding its way up his forehead in the usual way it would.

You couldn't fight the smile on your face. You felt like a love sick goofball. You shook your head, "Unless you want to hear about all of the other Training rooms I plan on infiltrating, then sure." He stood to his full height, grabbing his bag off of the floor.

"I knew I should have asked for some listening devices." He playfully jabbed. "What are you doing after training today?" He questioned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. A smirk lifted to your face as you looked out at the nearly vacant room.

Your eyes moved back to meet his. They held your gaze gently, softly, you felt the magma begin its high pressured course through your veins. Heat collected to your cheeks and spread quickly to your ears. Swallowing thickly you blinked and looked at the floor. "As far as I know, all I have planned is kicking the Royal Shield's ass."

His grin grew and he laughed, "Well after you kick the Royal Shield's ass, care to join him for dinner?"

You swore the world stopped for a moment— for longer then a moment. And there you sat in an empty room with no meaning, forgetting who you are, forgetting who he is— Your heart nearly hammering out of your chest.

"I would love to," You nearly whispered, the words getting lost in the thickness of your throat.

He tilted his head, eyes still holding yours. "Then it's a date," He spoke just as confidently as ever, his signature smile holding to his soft lips.

"Better not be a set up Mr. Amicitia. I will be livid," you hummed, trying to fight the giddy urge to dance around the room. You spent the energy walking to the locker room to change.

"I would never--" His sentence trailed off, but you caught the faint sound of your name slipping from his lips. the way the timbre of his voice seemed to extenuate the syllables of your name caused your legs to go weak; Heat like never before flooded your face, your body, your mind. You were clouded fully with giddy anticipation. And as you lost your casual clothes, and slipped into your work out outfit; you wondered why the hell you kept your name away from him.