This one doesn't *quite* fit on my Roadtrip timeline, but I didn't know where else to post this little Ignea one-shot. Enjoy!
Aranea's knees drew closer to her chest, a low moan on her lips as images of a mechanical Bahamut spoke to her in Caligo's voice from behind her eyelids. Her legs shifted a bit in the bed as she leapt into the air, screaming a curse at the monster before her. On one side of her Ignis was throwing his daggers, on the other Lunafreya was invigorating both of them with her light. More dæmons were swarming around them and she cursed again with her last backflip. She turned to one, but felt cold metal hands clamp on her shoulder. She swung her elbow back, hard.
"Gods!" Ignis shouted, jarring Aranea awake. She sat upright and panted for breath, dilated eyes looking at the bedroom around her, needing several seconds for the battleground to fade and to realize that Ignis was beside her in his sleepwear and not the gray and white outfit. And he had both hands clamped over his face.
"Oh!" She shouted, her own hands fluttering over her face. "Oh gods did I hit you?!" She asked, reaching out for him but her fingertips hovered just over his hands. "I-I was dreaming and there was something grabbing me." She started, and stopped, as the dream already began to fade away.
"It was… an accident." Ignis replied in a nasaly voice.
"You're bleeding!" She replied. "Oh gods let me get something." She threw the blankets off of her, ignoring his attempt at reassuring her and half-jogged across their small bedroom into the bathroom where she pulled out a facecloth, ran it under the cold tap, and returned to the bed. "Let me see." She asked. He slowly lowered his hands she frowned when she saw the slow trickle of blood coming out both nostrils. "Shit. I'm stronger than I think even in my sleep."
"I should know better than to shake the shoulder of a sleeping soldier."
"I'm so sorry." She replied, and pressed the cool cloth under his nose, which he grabbed and held in place. "Pinch your nose and look down." She instructed, though she knew full well he had basic first aid understanding.
"You seem quite frantic." Ignis said.
"I just elbowed my boyfriend in the face. Doesn't leave a wonderful taste in my mouth." She replied.
"I am not mad." Ignis replied.
"I still feel like shit. Just because you're too perfect to get mad at me for punching you in the face doesn't mean I don't still feel bad."
"Perhaps then you can soothe your guilt by mayhaps making us some tea?" He suggested.
"How hard did I hit you? Tea? Since when are you a tea man?"
"Since I glanced at the clock to see that it is merely three am. While Ebony is the nectar of the gods, it is ill suited for getting back to sleep." He replied. She paused, glanced at the clock, then pinched her lips and nodded.
"Okay. You have a point. Tea it is. You're lucky Luna is always shoving the stuff at me trying to get me to try something new." She swung her legs off the bed and walked to their kitchen. Their apartment was small, but had a certain charm to it. Or perhaps it was simply the feeling of home it gave her. The kettle sat on its usual spot on the back-left burner of their stove. She filled it with water, set it back in place, and used the grill-starter to ignite the stove since all four of the starters didn't like her enough to work. She pulled two mugs from the cabinet, and dropped tea bags into them, picking at random since she knew jack-all about tea despite how much Lunafreya tried to teach her the merits of the stuff.
She rejoined Ignis on the bed, the hour starting to catch up to her as the shock of her nightmare and nearly breaking Ignis's nose wore off, and decided not to wait the minutes required for the tea to steep and remove the bag. She wondered if Lunafreya was waking up from a dead sleep, feeling a disturbance, at her ill-treatment of tea as Ignis would should someone dare to brew his favorite coffee in anything but the most ideal method.
"Thank you." Ignis said, his voice still sounded thick and nasal. The cloth she had given him was stained quite deeply, which brought her guilt back in full force. She set her tea down on the end table and got up again, returning with several fresh cloths.
"Here, switch that nasty one out." She demanded. She threw the blood-soaked one into the bathroom sink to contend with in the morning before returning to bed. "Oh. I should have asked before I sat down… do you need a pain killer?" She asked.
"I am all right." He replied.
"I'm gonna feel like shit for a week no matter how much you tell me that. So how about we watch a movie and move on?" She suggested.
"I wish not for you to feel guilty for so long." He tried to reply but she shook her head and pointed at the television, repeating her suggestion. "I shan't argue with a movie." He gave in. He let her fuss and pile up pillows behind them, grabbing any spares from the closet and the couch before she felt satisfied enough with coming back to bed for the fourth time. This time she came back with an entire container of cookies. Shortbread cookies half-coated in dark chocolate. A treat he would be loath to admit were his favorite, but each time they shopped he would grab a package, and it seemed to be the treat he always asked for when she decided to try her hand at baking. Which was generally a disaster unless he was hovering in the kitchen directing her. She was determined to one day make a passable batch of chocolate-coated cookies for him without his supervision so she could welcome him home with the things. And immediately felt her past-self slap her for having such a domestic goal. She reached over for her phone, pulled up Lunafreya's name, and quickly typed out
What have u done to me?
She opted out of any other context before shoving her phone back in its usual spot to grab the remote to select a movie.
"What you in the mood for?" She asked him.
"In place of a movie, perhaps one of the cooking shows?" He suggested.
"Gonna make me hungry." She replied, but started flicking through the option until the category came up, their streaming service having recognized their usual patterns and already had an entire category of Foodie Dreams filled with every cooking show they could dream of.
By the end of the first episode Ignis's nose had stopped bleeding, their tea was drank, and the package of cookies was half-eaten. Aranea leaned her head against his shoulder, which slowly shifted into having her head on his lap. His fingers idly played with her hair, stroking the side of her face and tracing her ear. She sighed, eyes closing, and drifted off to sleep. This time, no dreams of mechanical astrals.